CHAPTER I.

REMAINS OF STREET ARCHITECTURE IN ENGLAND--CHESTER: VARIOUS THEORIES OF THE ROWS--REMINISCENCES OF ANCIENT HOUSES IN CHESTER--WIRRAL--CONGLETON--NANTWICH--WHITTINGTON.

There are not many Abbeys or Cathedrals which have not been fairly delineated, and it is a pleasure to add that in this respect few Parish Churches have been neglected. Indeed, if these possess any interest, they are almost sure to secure a record of their form, and at least one antiquary to publish their history. Ancient mansions also have been lithographed by Habershon and Richardson, and very excellently by Nash. Happily, also, for this class of buildings, they generally belong to some family who take a pride in them, and may fairly be left to attend to their preservation.

It is not for such remains as any of the above that a plea is needed; they have powerful friends, and perhaps no enemies. But there is another class of architecture that is fast fading away, and that a class which has brightened many a landscape and figured cheerfully in many a tale. Ruskin, in his Oxford Lectures on Art, has said of the architecture of old streets in towns and cities that “it is passing away like a dream, without any serious attempt having been made to preserve it, or indeed even to delineate it.” Old blocks of buildings have yielded to the modern innovator in numberless cases where a little ingenuity and care would have adapted them to their new requirements; and, as Ruskin has eloquently said, “it is difficult to understand the contempt and envy with which future generations will look upon us who had such things and allowed them to perish.”

Since commencing these pages, not less than three street scenes have been destroyed, which would otherwise now figure among our illustrations. One of them contained four houses that dated back to the reign of Richard III., and these houses have been destroyed, though in an admirable state of solidity, and replaced by others that, as far even as convenience is concerned, have little advantage, and for every other consideration are not to be named in comparison.

The wealth of England, however, in ancient remains of all kinds is still very great, and nothing illustrates this more strikingly than the fact that for all the changes and improvements that go on in ancient cities like Chester, Shrewsbury, or Salisbury, we still find the antique character left, even if several years have elapsed since our last visit.

The superior beauty of ancient street architecture has already arrested the attention of many landowners. Gabled cottages with tall chimneys, in a style superior to that which has been often called, not inappropriately, “Cockney Gothic,” are built, and the problem of making small cheap dwellings picturesque is gradually being solved, a problem that was well understood by our forefathers. This will be dwelt on at greater length in the last chapter of the book.

Perhaps no more suitable starting-point than Chester could be found for our researches. It is tolerably well known to most Englishmen either by description or personal inspection. The distinguishing features of Chester are “The Rows” as they are called. These are long covered arcades of unknown origin and antiquity. In familiar language, they resemble such a space as would be formed by removing the storey over the ground floor of a row of buildings through the entire length of the street, and supporting the upper chambers with columns or piers at irregular distances. They differ entirely from those in Berne, or indeed anywhere else, in their form and purpose, and also from the covered passages outside the city, of which an example is here given. These, indeed, resemble similar structures at Berne, Totness, and other places.

Speaking of them, Colonel Egerton Leigh, one of the members of Parliament for Cheshire, has well remarked in a paper read before the Chester Archæological Society: “I really think it would improve the quaint look of the city if the projection of the second floor, supported on pillars (either of wood, brick, or stone) over the pavement, were, under certain necessary regulations and restrictions, encouraged on the Boughton, Hanbridge, and

Northgate approaches to Chester. There are several examples of this style remaining in the suburbs, and they are a curious and characteristic introduction to the Rows inside the city.” The illustration is taken from the Boughton approach to Chester. One peculiarity may be noticed: the nearest pier of the arcade is enlarged into a kind of buttress capacious enough to accommodate a barber with his stock in trade; and this is not the only example in the city, there are similar establishments in Bridge Street, Watergate Street, Northgate Street, and in the piers of the arcades.

According to Webb, the Rows were built as a refuge to the citizens during any sudden attack of the Welsh, though the mode of building in the more northerly part of England would seem to have been better adapted for any such emergency. However, let Webb tell his own story: “And because these conflicts continued a long time, it was needful for them to build a space before the doors of their upper buildings, upon which they might stand in safety from the violence of their enemies’ horses, and withal defend their houses from spoyl, and stand with advantage to encounter their enemies when they made incursions.” Pennant, on the contrary, says: “These Rows appear to me to have been the same with the ancient vestibules, and to have been a form of building preserved from the time the city was possessed by the Romans. They were built before the doors, midway between the streets and houses, and were the places where dependents waited for the coming out of their patrons, and under which they might walk away the tedious minutes of expectation. Plautus, in the third act of his _Mostella_, describes both their station and use:--

‘Viden vestibulum ante ædes et ambulacrum ejusmodi.’

The shops beneath the Rows were the cryptæ and apothecæ, magazines for the various necessaries of the owners of the houses.”

Other writers, such as Stukely, confirm the Roman origin of the Rows; but Lysons, certainly one of the most accomplished and patient antiquaries of England, dissents from the Roman theory. “Mr. Pennant thinks,” he says, “that he discerns in these Rows the form of the ancient vestibules attached to the houses of the Romans who once possessed the city. Many vestiges of their edifices have certainly been discovered in Chester, but there seems to be little resemblance between the Chester Rows and the vestibules of the Romans, whose houses were constructed only of one storey.” Hemingway, the historian of Chester, seems to differ very much from Lysons, and refers the Rows to the Roman period. “Nor am I aware,” he says, “of any historic data that can disprove an opinion I strongly entertain, that the excavations mentioned, by which our Rows as distinguished from the carriage-road are formed, are the work of Roman hands.”

The end of a Row in Bridge Street here given will easily illustrate the manner in which these singular passages are broken, and resumed after

being intersected by a cross street. Hemingway in another passage says, “It hardly requires a word of argument to show that the pavements in Bridge Street, Watergate Street, and Eastgate Street were originally on a level with the houses standing in the Rows; for it is utterly impossible to conceive that the present sunken state of the streets, as contrasted with the elevated ground on either side, could be the effect of natural causes. It is most obvious, therefore, that at some period or other the principal streets have been made to take their present form by dint of human art and labour; and it is not less evident that from the East, West, and South Gates to the Cross, and from the latter to nearly where the Exchange now stands, which is almost the highest part of the city, excavation has been employed. These conclusions, though they are incapable of proof from any existing testimony, seem necessarily to arise from a close observation of the subject, and I believe they have received the concurrence of all our historians and antiquaries. But some difference of opinion has existed as to the fact whether these excavations were made prior to the erection of the buildings above, or subsequent to them. This question, although involving no important point of history, is worthy of a slight notice, if it were for no other use than a curious speculation. Webb, in _Kings Vale Royal_, fixes the origin of the Rows at a much later period than the one I am of opinion they were entitled to, and he likewise leans to the hypothesis that they were a kind of afterwork, begun and completed when the buildings in the sunken line of the streets were already inhabited.”

Much has been written on the origin of the Rows, and much learning has been expended on the subject, which is indeed of exceptional interest, but it is generally considered that only a little light has been thrown upon it. Of course, at the present time they are so varied in antiquity and form that it is difficult indeed to approach the subject.

The curious Row in Watergate Street here given is a very good example of the more ancient forms. This particular building is generally called Bishop Lloyd’s Palace, and the front of it to the street, as all visitors to Chester will recollect, is ornamented with grotesque wood carvings; but it must be evident that it only occupies the site of some more ancient building; indeed, the oldest of the Rows is evidently in the same position, and we must look for their origin in more remote forms. All theories that refer them to some particular date at which they were simultaneously constructed seem to have been abandoned, and chance-medley has probably had more to do with them than we at one time fancied. An American gentleman of great intelligence, who visited the city for the first time during the progress of this work, may possibly have conjectured something of the origin of the Rows by giving the original builders credit for sufficient

sagacity in their work. “Chester,” he said, “is far beyond any city we possess in the New World in point of convenience. Country towns are run up there on a uniform plan, and in some of the streets in the cities of the far west are great blocks of pretentious warehouses and stores that look like bankruptcy itself. A tradesman commencing business has but little option--he must either take one of these or else he is out of the world. And if he takes a place that is so much too large for him, he has to purchase more goods than he can pay for when the time for payment comes round. I speak,” he said, “of no imaginary evil, but one that actually exists, as I have found out to my cost; but here, in the Rows, are shops and stores of all sizes, so that a tradesman commencing business may suit himself with premises to his proper requirements, yet not be out of the business world.” He further added that their exceeding picturesqueness, the shelter they afforded from summer heats and winter storms were too obvious to even point out, and that such places in America would have the vast advantage of affording a dry footwalk over the snow, and protection from the rays of an almost tropical sun; so that for economy, beauty, and convenience, the Rows have the advantage over all other modes of building for ordinary city purposes. There is, perhaps, no great strain of imagination required to give the original builders of Chester credit for seeing some of the advantages of Rows for commercial purposes, and letting each building as it grew conform with its neighbour. Rows have been stopped and built up

even in the present century, and in Lower Bridge Street something nearly approaching one has lately been formed. Again, it is very evident that some of the Rows were not existing, at least in their present position, in the thirteenth century, and they must have been constructed since that time. Under all circumstances, the simplest way out of the difficulty would seem to be that the Rows were the result of some prevalent fashion of building, more adventitious than anything else. A Roman portico may have suggested some form that was preserved in rebuilding, or some few spirited proprietors may have commenced the system without any combined action.

Old Lamb Row, here shown, was a perfectly independent Row by itself, and clearly only copied from others. The house is said to have been the residence of Randal Holme, who has left us some valuable records of Chester, though it is clear that the woodwork was of more ancient date, and must have been adapted as the details on the recently uncovered front in the same street which forms the subject of another illustration. The date on this is 1664, but it is very obvious that the carving on the wood is much more ancient, and probably the timbers were taken from some more antique structure. The happy way in which municipal laws were passed and carried, is illustrated by an incident in the career of Lamb Row, for in 1670 the corporation considered it a nuisance, and though no Act of Parliament seems to have been infringed by its erection, they said that the “nuisance erected by Randal Holme in his new building in Bridge Street be taken down, as it annoys his neighbours, and hinders their prospect from their houses.” No particular result would seem to have followed this resolution of the council. Mr. Holme allowed it to stand, though, as events proved, the city were right, for in 1821 it fell down, owing to its bad construction and some slight decay in the timbers. The name Lamb Row was derived from the sign of a lamb over a tavern, for which the building was let after Mr. Holme’s death. It is a curious illustration of the immunity of the times that the Corporation fined Mr. Holme £3: 6: 8 the following year for contempt against the mayor, in disregarding their minute; which fine does not seem to have met with a better fate than the original order.

In the house called Bishop Lloyd’s house are many splendid remains of ceilings and fireplaces. It is let off to subtenants at a few shillings a month: but it is much to be feared that its lease of life is precarious in the face of modern improvement.

The street which cuts through the Row in Bridge Street, and is part of a former illustration, is called Commonhall Street, and it formerly contained a very curious building, of uncertain origin, which afterwards was converted into almshouses. It was very massive and quaint, and it should have formed one of our illustrations, but unhappily, almost without notice to the citizens, it was demolished, to make room for an unsightly row of brick cottages, and, as far as I have been able to learn, no drawing of it is preserved.

In one place only is a Row closed from the light, as in the Dark Row here shown, and it forms a kind of tunnel, which emerges at either end into the open Row.

The fine old residence called Stanley House is situated in the same street as Bishop Lloyd’s house, and is now let off into small cottages. It is historically interesting as being the place where the unfortunate Earl of Derby spent his last day before he was taken to be executed at Bolton, in 1657. “Mr. Bagaley, one of his gentlemen, attended him at his dying hour, and thus speaks of one Lieutenant Smith, a rude fellow, with his hat on:--He told my lord he came from Colonel Duckenfield, the governor, to tell his lordship he must be ready for his journey to Bolton. My lord replied, ‘When would have me to go.’ ‘To-morrow, about six in the morning,’ said Smith. ‘Well,’ said my lord, ‘commend me to the governor, and tell him I shall be ready by that time.’ Then said Smith, ‘Doth your lordship know any friend or servant that would do the thing your lordship knows of? It would do well if you had a friend.’ My lord replied, ‘What do you mean--to cut off my head?’ Smith said, ‘Yes, my lord, if you could have a friend.’ My lord said, ‘Nay, sir, if those men that would have my head will not find one to cut it off, let it stand where it is!’” The carvings in the front of this house are extremely beautiful.

The next engraving shows the tower in Chester Castle called “Julius Cæsar’s Tower.” This castle has been much modernised, but was a grand specimen of a Norman residence even in Pennant’s time, writing at the close of the last century. “On the sides of the lower court stands the noble room called _Hugh Lupus’_ Hall. The length is nearly 99 feet, the breadth 45, the height very awful, and worthy the state apartment of a great baron. The roof supported by wood-work, in a bold style, carved, and placed on the sides, resting on stout brackets.” This building, now destroyed, probably retained its original dimensions. The character of the first

Norman earl required a hall suited to the greatness of his hospitality, which was confined to no bounds. “He was,” says Ordericus, “not only liberal but profuse; he did not carry a family with him, but an army. He kept no account of receipts or disbursements. He was perpetually wasting his estates, and was much fonder of falconers and huntsmen than of cultivators of land and holy men; and by his gluttony he grew so excessively fat that he could hardly crawl about.” Adjoining the end of this great hall is the court of exchequer, or the chancery of the county palatinate of Chester. The account here given is, we will hope, an exceptional one of the barons of the period.

The walls of Chester are entire, and a complete circuit of the city may be made on them without once leaving the footwalk on their summit. These are the only complete walls in England, though at one time all considerable towns were similarly surrounded. The semicircular building shown here is the lower part of a tower that was taken down, and similar towers yet remain on the walls in a state of great preservation.

Close by the tower here shown was an old hostelry called the “Blue Posts,” kept by Mrs. Mottershed in the year 1558. This was the year when Queen Mary reigned; and one Dr. Henry Cole, Dean of St. Paul’s, was charged by his royal mistress with a commission to the council in Ireland, which had for its object the persecution of Irish Protestants.

“In this house,” says Hemingway, “he was visited by the mayor, to whom, in the course of conversation, he related his errand, in confirmation of which he took from his cloak a leather box, exclaiming, in a tone of exultation, ‘Here is that which will lash the heretics of Ireland.’ This annunciation was caught by the landlady, who had a brother in Dublin, and while the commissioner was escorting his worship (who that year was Sir Lawrence Smith) down stairs, the good woman, prompted by an affectionate regard for the safety of her brother, opened the box, took out the commission, and placed in lieu of it a pack of cards with the knave of clubs uppermost. This the doctor carefully packed up, without suspecting the transformation, nor was the deception discovered till his arrival in the presence of the lord deputy and privy council at the castle of Dublin. The surprise of the whole assembly on opening the box containing the supposed commission may be more easily imagined than described. The doctor was sent back immediately for a more satisfactory authority, but before he could return to Ireland, Queen Mary had breathed her last. The ingenuity and affectionate zeal of the landlady were rewarded by Elizabeth with a pension of forty pounds a year.”

The old front previously shown is in the same street where the “Blue Posts” stood, and is a fine example of a black-and-white gable. The carving on the woodwork is more ancient than the date that appears on the building, and has been cut and adapted from some older house--not by any means an uncommon case, though the cause of considerable confusion to the antiquary if the adaptation has been a good one. This is the house that has been alluded to as being covered with plaster, and only brought to light during the progress of the present work. Indeed plans were prepared for a new building, but the firm of architects who were employed, as soon as they found that there was ancient work under the plaster, properly cancelled their plans, and adapted the old front to the requirements of the proprietor. The curious house in the same street, here shown, is probably among the most ancient wooden structures in Chester: there is nothing to indicate its exact age, but its general appearance would point to considerable antiquity; houses of this shape, however, were common from the beginning of the fifteenth to the seventeenth century.

Hemingway, speaking of Bridge Street, says, “Every gradation of architecture, from the rude clumsy wood hut to the open airy commodious hotel, is here displayed, and it is not perhaps the least worthy of observation to see the awkward confinement of low close rooms gradually yielding to the more healthful taste of modern building. The

original plan of the houses (if there was any plan at all) seems to have been in the cottage style, with the gable end of each to face the street. This mode of building certainly gives great extent of premises behind, but renders the inner rooms and staircase rather dark.” He adds what is true of other streets in the city beside Bridge Street, “The curious observer will discover in the street that the square brick fronts of some of the houses are nothing more than a wall carried up as high as the ridge of the roof, thus having the appearance of a handsome modern house, while the interior retains most of its original formation.”

The next illustration is of a fine gabled house in Whitefriars: this is remarkably well proportioned, and has some very excellent work inside.

The outside of the Row in Eastgate Street, behind which the “Dark Row,” previously alluded to, runs, has unfortunately been pulled down since this work was commenced, but the drawing at the head of the chapter gives an accurate idea of the premises, and was made just before the building was demolished. It consisted of the three gables shown, and some back premises, and its strength was so great that some time was spent in its destruction.

The most westerly part of Cheshire is called Wirral, and it formerly was covered with forests, though now it is nearly destitute of any considerable woods. The land of which it is formed is rocky, and contains some good veins of building stone. In consequence of this there are a number of very substantial stone houses in most of the villages. Many of them are of good design, and well adapted to modern requirements; simple, indeed, as this style may seem, it is quite possible for the designer to find himself in confusion in carrying it out. The roofs and chimneys should be so contrived as to stand out clearly, and to show that the house _has_ a roof and a chimney. The great danger of this style is that, if employed by inartistic hands, it is apt to become tame, or else to develope itself into some kind of Swiss cottage that hardly suits an English landscape.

The ancient house at Bidston village, here given, was at one time the residence of one of the Derby family. The Earl, who was executed at Bolton, and whose tragic end has been alluded to, lived at Bidston Hall, now a picturesque and substantial farm-house.

At Tranmere village, on the Cheshire side of the river Mersey, is an exterior well known to all Liverpool pedestrians. There are some curious panes of glass in it, with emblematic devices and legends on them, and the stonework is excellently true.

The greater part, however, of the Wirral houses have been sadly mutilated, owing to the proximity of that part of Cheshire to Liverpool.

Congleton, in the eastern part of Cheshire, is a fine example of an old English country town that has been built at various times, but has always retained its antique character. It is situated in a lovely country, through which the river Dane quietly flows to the Weaver, and it is hemmed in on all sides with venerable family seats. The buildings tell their own tale in very permanent materials. There are red brick houses of a century and a half old, and joining these are gabled ones of greater age. The roofs are of different levels, and covered, according to the period of their erection, with slates or tiles or flags. Here and there a black and white house is left, and there are in some streets a few cottages built into the motley row; some of these are of great antiquity.

The old Inn at Congleton is a fine specimen of a black-and-white gabled hostelry. The great porch, with a room over, rests on two stone pillars, and the interior of the Inn quite corresponds in character with the exterior. This is just the kind of Inn so dear to novelists, and so seldom well described. Perhaps the country Inn in _Barnaby Rudge_ is as well-drawn a picture of one of the old houses of accommodation as any; and if Dickens’ works are ever to be picturesquely illustrated, the Lion Inn at Congleton might serve the artist for a model. All it wants to complete its ancient character is the signboard across the road.

Cheshire abounds with material for such a work as this; and many old towns--Sandbach, Malpas, Nantwich, or Knutsford, for example--are well worthy of a visit. A curious old house at Nantwich is here given; the bow window consists of a heavy octagonal bow overhanging another of similar shape and smaller dimensions in a kind of telescope fashion. The noble octagonal church tower is rising above. Nantwich church is seen to great advantage from many parts of the town, and is of Cathedral dimensions. It is remarkably beautiful in details, and is in a fine state of preservation.

There are many houses in Nantwich with dates of the sixteenth century carved on them, and there is a curious history belonging to them. In 1583 a great fire swept away nearly the whole of Nantwich, and immediately after a collection was instituted to reimburse the inhabitants for their heavy losses. The parish register says, “A most terrible and vehement fire, beginning at the water-lode, about six of the clocke by night, in a kitchen, by brewinge. The winde being very boisterouse increased the said fire, which more vehementlie burned, and consumed in the space of 15 hours, 600 bayes of buildings, and could not be stayed neither by labour nor pollice, which I thought good to commend unto posteritie, as a favourable interposition of the Almightie, in destroying the buildings and goods only, but sparing the lives of many people, which, considering the time, space, and perill, were in great jopardie.”

The term “600 bayes” is a suggestive expression, and it probably has a similar meaning to bay of modern times. This is generally understood to denote the space between the principals of a roof, the sections as it were into which the front to the street was cut. The building here illustrated would thus have five bays; but the expression seems to have been customary in Queen Elizabeth’s time to define the size of a house. The clown says in “Measure for Measure,” “If this law hold in Vienna ten years, I’ll rent the fairest house in it after threepence a bay.”

The collection was ordered by the Queen in 1585, and perhaps partook rather of the character of a rate. The estimated damage was £30,000, an enormous sum in those days.

Ellesmere is situated in the northern extremity of Shropshire, nearly at its contact with Cheshire. It is on a fine sheet of water, from which it takes its name. The streets are remarkably picturesque. There are many substantial residences in it, which are finely shaded with forest trees and evergreens, and at one end of the town is a large ancient cruciform church overlooking the lake. The woods and lawns of Oakley Park stretch along the opposite shore, and it would be difficult to imagine a more delightful scene. Long low comfortable hotels with bow windows prevail in Ellesmere, and they have ample accommodation for coaches and post-horses, though now grass grows in many of the roomy quadrangles round which their stables are built, as most of their occupation is gone.

I noticed a pleasing device on the front of one of the houses which faced the south: a large grape vine grew at one end of the house, and it was bent horizontally after reaching a certain height across the whole front of the building; over it was an open verandah roofed with thick glass, which enabled the grapes to ripen, and formed a charming summer shade; indeed, on the bleakest winter day, Ellesmere has a sunny cheerful look. The road from Ellesmere to Oswestry lies through a beautiful country, and is about eight miles long. The Green Man, so called from the sign of a forester in hunting green, is another example of an old-fashioned roadside Inn. The walls are panelled in oak, and the ancient benches and tables with carved legs still remain. The fireplace in the hall is 12 feet wide, and ornamented with a great store of antique pewter platters. Halston Park, a little farther along the Oswestry road, was the seat of the celebrated Captain Mytton, whose random exploits are the subject of a rather uncommon biography.

Whittington village lies on the same road, and is about two miles from Oswestry. It is introduced here to illustrate the excellent effect of breadth in a landscape. A well-defined broad white gable stands out against the rest of the village and sets it off. Of course there is the advantage of fine trees behind it, but it stands back from the road, which is broader here, and affords them every chance of being seen. It is actually a fact, which few persons unacquainted with perspective would at first credit, that if the road continued at the same width, and if ordinary three-storied village houses were substituted, this beautiful scene would be completely closed out. We pass in English roads hundreds of pleasant prospects that we do not know of, as they are shut out by the dreary brick buildings that characterise the present century.

A comparatively small object may do an immense amount of mischief. We may, for example, be admirably placed in a theatre for seeing and hearing everything. The building may be crowded, but we see over a low-sized individual in front the whole of the scenery and the performers, when a hat, only six inches high, and about as broad, appears, and then “our revels all are ended,” and the actors have “melted into air--into thin air.”

This kind of teaching is especially wanted now among architects. It is not too much to say of the majority of them, that if they were required to build a church in some distant county, they would consider it quite sufficient to have a plan of the churchyard and adjoining lanes sent to them, without their having the least idea of the surrounding buildings or trees, or the outline of the neighbouring hills. Infinite pains are taken with details, but though books which treat of these are excellent and numerous, one turns in vain for any architectural work to guide him to a knowledge of what is more important--picturesqueness. Ruskin’s works are not as yet studied by architects as they should be; indeed they require a previous knowledge of, at any rate, the preliminary elements of art, which, to some extent, would limit their general acceptance in the profession. Still the number of his readers is increasing yearly among architects, much to the advantage of the country. Detail, however beautiful, and however necessary excellence in it may be, can no more improve a building that jars with its surroundings, than an elaborate label can cure a bottle of indifferent Rhenish wine.

There is a curious old book written by Sir Edward Moore to his son and heir, which shows how a landlord of the seventeenth century regarded the appearance of his street property. He was the principal lord of the manor of Liverpool, and at great length gives directions for the guidance of his heir. Speaking of one of the tenants, he says:--“This man should have built two dormer-windows, as the others did, but when he had got me fast, and he was loose, he would build none, but made the house like a barn, much to the disparagement of the street. If he have occasion to use you, deal not with him till he hath made two dormer windows.” Instances are unhappily the exception where such fastidious care is taken of the appearance of a street by the proprietor.

It may be mentioned incidentally that the gateway of Peveril’s castle is in Whittington village, which was also the birthplace of Sir Richard Whittington, three times Mayor of London.