Part 8
If the Walls of our city possess this great interest for us, what shall we say of our Rows? They are practically unique. Other cities and towns have their Walls, but no other place, in England at any rate, has anything like the Rows. And their origin is veiled in obscurity. It is very difficult to give such a description of them as shall enable one who has not seen them to realise what they are like. The late Dean Howson spoke of them as “public highways passing through the front part of the drawing-rooms on the first floor of a series of houses, the windows being taken out, while the inner parts of these drawing-rooms are converted into shops, the bedrooms being overhead, and the passengers walking over the rooms of the ground storey, these rooms again being converted into shops.” Mr. Pennant in his _Tour_ gives this description, founded, as we shall see, upon a mistaken idea as to their origin:--“The principal streets run direct from east to west and from north to south, and were excavated out of the earth, and sunk many feet below the surface. The carriages are driven far below the level of the kitchens, on a line with ranges of shops, over which passengers walk in galleries, which the inhabitants call the Rows, secure from wet or heat. In the Rows are likewise ranges of shops and steps to descend into the street.” Without giving earlier descriptions, it will be gathered, that in the main streets within the city Walls there are covered galleries over the shops on the street level, which also are lined with shops. The walks in these galleries do not come quite to the street frontage, as opposite each shop there is, as a rule, a “stall,” or sloping platform, on which goods may be exposed, though in some few instances this space is occupied by buildings of a permanent character. The stalls are protected from the street to which they are open by balustrades, some of which are of oak and of varying and handsome old patterns. As the shops represent different properties, there is a pleasing lack of uniformity about the Rows. In some instances we have the half-timbered architecture for which Cheshire is famous, in others houses of the date of Queen Anne; whilst in recent times some have been rebuilt and made more in accordance with modern requirements, though due regard has latterly been paid to the character of the ancient buildings. The walk in Eastgate and Bridge Street is continuous, and here are the best and principal shops; in the other streets the walk is interrupted by intervening lanes or streets, except on the south side of Watergate Street, where there are some very striking houses, such as “Bishop Lloyd’s Palace,” or “God’s Providence House.” The variety is also seen in the height of the colonnade, which is sometimes through the older houses quite low, and in the more modern ones much higher. On the west side of Bridge Street there is, in fact, barely headroom for a very tall person in some parts, but here there are no shops in the Row, so that the inconvenience is not felt. In the greater part of Northgate the Row, if it ever existed, has disappeared, and in another part it has recently been brought down to the street level, the under shops, which were really cellars, having been removed. The Rows thus, like the Walls, afford a favourite promenade for visitors. In rainy weather they give protection to those who have business to transact in the shops which line them; whilst “the stalls” afford a convenient position for witnessing any procession passing through the streets. We may even go back in thought to early days and imagine how they would be crowded with spectators when the Chester Plays were acted in the streets, or when the questionable sport (?) of bull-baiting took place before the Pentice at the High Cross. It is curious to know that the ownership of the property on the street level does not necessarily carry with it the ownership of the shop or house in the Row above.
In other parts of the city there are shops or houses where the first floor, supported by brick or stone arches or by wooden posts, is over the footway or pavement, and in the city accounts there are repeated entries of payments made for posts set up in the streets to hold up houses. Interesting examples of this are to be seen in Foregate Street and in Northgate.
The arrangement of the Rows is so singular, that much discussion has taken place as to their history and origin. Some have contended that they may be traced back to the Roman period, and that they were probably suggested by the common form of Roman building with a portico in front of them. Much ingenuity has been displayed by architects and others who urge this view in the drawings by which they seek to justify this contention. Stress, too, is laid by them on the fact that the Rows are confined to that part of the city which is of Roman origin, though this fact has been denied by those who adopt other theories.
The late Mr. John Henry Parker, F.S.A., in 1857, wrote as follows:--“The most probable origin of these Rows is, that after some great fire, it was found most convenient to make the footway on the top of the cellars, or vaulted substructures, instead of in the narrow streets between them. It was the usual custom in the towns in the Middle Ages to protect the lower storey, or cellar, which was half underground, by a vault of stone or brick. This was the storeroom in which the merchandise or other valuable property was preserved. The upper parts of the houses were entirely of wood, and the whole of these being destroyed by fire, it was more easy to make the footway on the top of the vaults, leaving the roadway clear for horses and carts. Many of these vaulted chambers of the mediæval period remain in Chester, more or less perfect; some divided by modern walls and used as cellars, others perfect and used as lower shops or warehouses.” This theory, again, is ingenious, and has this justification, that in 1114 a large part of the city was destroyed by fire; but against it may be urged the fact that one of the most perfect, and probably the oldest of these crypts (the house or shop in which it is being called “Ye Olde Crypt”), is not in the street front, but beneath the back portion of the house. Others have supposed that the original ground-level of the city was the same level with the Rows, and that the streets were gradually worn down to their present level through the solid rock. This opinion has, however, been shown to be untenable, inasmuch as in Bridge Street, Watergate, and other parts, Roman remains have been discovered which show that in Roman times buildings were even a little below the present street level, and that the foundations of the Roman buildings correspond practically with the height of the roadway. Archdeacon Rogers, at the end of the sixteenth century, urged that the Rows were constructed for defensive purposes, and would be found useful in this way in the time of Welsh incursions. We have, however, no record of the Welsh having ever effected an entrance into the town, so that the precaution would seem to have been superfluous. Canon Morris, in his valuable work (_Chester during the Plantagenet and Tudor Periods_), advances another theory at some length to account for the gradual development of the Rows from the seldæ, or movable sheds, on the street level, and the shops built on the higher ground behind, formed of the debris of Roman buildings which had been destroyed. These are some of the ideas which have been propounded as to the origin of the Rows. It is well to state them, so that our readers may gather what a fertile source of interesting discussion they furnish. Mr. Henry Dawes Harrod, F.S.A., after carefully examining these explanations, and the arguments on which they were based, came to the conclusion that we must look to ancient Chester for the origin of the Rows, and so go back to Roman times. His contention is not unlike that of Canon Morris, only he gives an earlier date. He says: “The shop of the ambulatory, with its covered way, is perpetuated in the shop in the Row. The stall for traders on the steps finds its lineal descendant in the shop in the streets. The covering over the Rows has given way before the growth of the houses to the front, economising space, and affording better living accommodation. Without any great revolution in design or architecture, the Rows have developed by a natural growth on the lines of the ancient design of Roman Chester.”
“When doctors differ who shall decide?” It may not be possible to come to a definite conclusion on the matter; but, personally, I think that the contention of Mr. Harrod, advanced in a paper read before the Chester Archæological Society on 19th February 1901, and supported by arguments and illustrations, is a most reasonable one, which at any rate commends itself to my humble judgment. The mere mention of these various theories may perhaps lead some of our readers to take even greater interest in the Rows of Chester, and remind the dwellers in both city and county that in them they possess a great and unique treasure.
THE HALF-TIMBERED ARCHITECTURE OF CHESHIRE
By C. H. Minshull
“He that hewed timber out of the thick trees: was known to bring it to an excellent work.”
Albeit this paper is to confine itself to the domestic or secular side of the subject, and this quotation might even more suitably serve as his text by the author treating exclusively of the ecclesiastical examples of timber-framed buildings, yet its appropriateness may warrant these words forming a sort of superscription for what is after all part and parcel of one theme.
While it may be conceded that Cheshire can count many extant memorials of greater historic importance and of longer lineage than any of those remaining recorded in that particular kind of “black and white” coming within our present immediate purview, it may nevertheless be claimed that these specimens of the carpenter’s craft constitute by no means the least charming and characteristic of the county’s architectural possessions.
The “post and panel” work, the “magpie” style, to use the sobriquet sometimes familiarly applied to it, so plentifully strewn throughout its length and breadth, does certainly bring a very distinct contribution to the picturesqueness of the Palatinate, whose now fertile plain, studded with these timber structures, is where buildings of this traditional type most do congregate. Indeed, it is a question whether they do not serve to connote Cheshire quite as much as that prosaic product the cheese, which has made the name and fame of the county a household word! Another proof of the identification of the county with the kind of buildings under consideration is that when a building is referred to as being in the “Cheshire style,” the description is always understood as implying a half-timbered erection, and at the same time goes to show that its designer has been paying his tribute of imitation to and admiration of the manner and method, which formerly was so felicitously employed in several parts of the country, but in none more extensively than in Cheshire--a fact happily still capable of demonstration in the frequency of surviving examples.
Many a piquant touch of contrasted colour does the landscape owe to these delightful buildings, one of whose attractive qualities resides in just that faculty of focussing the eye they so eminently possess. Here it may be a cluster of quaint cottages, or perhaps a single cottage of comely proportions nestling in some sequestered spot, or one of those moated granges or sturdy farmsteads that dot the countryside; or there it may be a more elaborate and ornate example, some “stately home,” attesting the skilful handiwork of the _faber lignarius_ who centuries ago followed his calling with such excellent and enduring results, his fitly and soundly framing of the building together having enabled it to withstand the action of time and weather--if so be by good fortune it managed to escape that more fatal enemy fire, whose ravages are no doubt responsible for the disappearance of many an architectural treasure, which, had a more resistant material been employed, might have survived to shed additional lustre on the county, already so renowned for its half-timbered treasures.
The explanation of the prevalence of this species of building, and of Cheshire having become _par excellence_ a centre for it, is, of course, to be found in the fact of the county having possessed an abundance of raw material in the “thick trees” ready to the hand of the hewer.
In his _Story of some English Shires_, as told by the late Dr. Mandell Creighton, speaking of the physical features of Cheshire, he says: “Three great forests covered much of the surface of the ground. From Chester to the sea stretched the forest of Wirral, from the Mersey to the Dee extended the forest of Delamere, and the forest of Macclesfield formed an impenetrable barrier between Cheshire and Derbyshire”; and he adds a remark not altogether irrelevant to the matter in hand: “There was so little agriculture that the men of Cheshire used to leave their homes and serve as harvesters in districts where corn was grown, in the same way as did Irish labourers in our own days.” These copious sources of timber have long since disappeared, and the once afforested area has given place to those broad acres under cultivation now covering the county.
In _Domesday Book_, under Cestrescire, these forests are often referred to, but we are left to conjecture what were the trees growing in them; doubtless there was the ash and the elm, and also “the monarch oak, sole king of forests all,” ready to hand for those who, in the elder days of the carpenter’s art, erected the dwellings from which those later buildings now being considered are either lineal or collateral descendants. The earliest extant of these may only carry us back some 500 years, but this had not only Norman but Anglo-Saxon progenitors. It is well known that the latter employed both in their churches and houses timber as their staple building material, and although all these have perished there remains the testimony of their language; the Saxon word “timbran” signified to build with wood, and builder meant carpenter. Their rude halls may be regarded as the origin of the old English timber-built houses.
The oldest form of rectangular house was erected in “bays,” the simplest form of construction being the house of one bay. Two pairs of bent trees (whence the term “roof tree” seems an outcome) were set up in the ground about 16 feet apart, each pair making a sort of pointed arch, united at their apexes by a longitudinal beam. The gable end of many an old Cheshire cottage shows the persistence of this traditional type.
Before bringing under review some few of the many specimens the county contains, a word or two with regard to their method of construction may not be out of place. Scarcity of stone and difficulties of transit account for this material being so sparingly used. Upon a few courses of stonework forming a plinth, horizontal beams were laid, and into these angle posts and intermediate uprights were framed. These carried the sill of the upper storey, whose floor joists were often made to project, producing the “overhang,” frequently coved, which is one of the most effective features of the style.
It is not, however, so much the general disposition of their main timbers as the varied patterns and devices of the panels filling in the intervening spaces that provides one of the distinguishing characteristics of these Cheshire buildings. As one may often determine a person’s native place by his dialect, so do these lozenges and other chequer patterns enable one to recognise the place of their origin; they are, as it were, a sort of idiomatic architectural expression. When the carpenter had finished the skeleton of the structure, there remained, to complete the wooden walls, the filling in of the interstices of the framing. For this purpose, what is known as “wattle and daub” was commonly employed. By this primitive process clay could be used in its natural state. The method was to make a foundation by interlacing osiers or hazel twigs, thus forming a sort of basket work, and then to daub over with clay mixed with straw or some stringy weed, and upon this put a thin coating of plaster on both the inside and outside faces. In his _Cheshire Glossary_, Colonel Egerton Leigh remarks, “The daub seems to have given a name to a trade,” and in support of this statement a quaint old couplet is quoted:--
“The mayor of Altrincham and the mayor of Over, The one is a thatcher, the other a dauber”;
and then follows this favourable comment on the old process: “Clay, being a non-conductor, makes a warm house in winter and a cool one in summer.”
Whether this “post and panel” work originally presented the study in black and white it now does, is open to question. Most likely the tarring of the timbers was resorted to rather with the object of preservation than with the intention of producing the contrasted effect between the wood and the plaster, now so conspicuous a characteristic. It may be that the dark brown and yellow ochre colour combination one sees in the corresponding manner of building on the Continent was more like the original appearance of these Cheshire buildings. Space forbids going into side issues and demands the taking into consideration some of the specimens of the “excellent work,” in which the county is so rich as to make the task of selection by no means easy.
The mere enumeration of notable examples would occupy many pages, and to deal with them in detail according to their deserts would call for a treatise instead of this cursory survey. But for a complete chronicle, is there not Ormerod’s _magnum opus_?--that mine of information and monument of industry which is indeed itself one of the county’s “memorials”; and for pictorial treatment there is that gallery of vivid illustrations, Nash’s _Mansions of the Olden Time_, wherein are to be seen, splendidly set forth, several of Cheshire’s celebrated “stately homes,” both as regards their outward aspect and their interiors, and containing, moreover, counterfeit presentments of their former occupants in their habits as they lived.
Any one unable to visit the actual building and desirous of getting an idea of their peculiar charm, aye and the splendour, of these fine old halls of Cheshire, would be well-advised to turn to that artist’s views of Bramall, of Adlington, and of Moreton, which constitute a trio of half-timbered treasures not perhaps surpassed by any buildings of their kind in any other county, or indeed country.
By right of seniority, as well as by reason of uniqueness, Baguley or Baggily Hall, in the neighbourhood of Stockport, claims first consideration. In Parker’s _Domestic Architecture_, remarking upon the difficulty of finding timber houses of the fourteenth century, Baggily is referred to as a “rare example.”
On this account and because of its intrinsic interest, it is now illustrated by two sectional views and by a sketch of the interior showing the purely Gothic spirit of its open-timbered roof, and giving an idea of the massiveness of its oakwork.
There being but few surviving specimens for the purposes of further illustrating the period between the reign of Edward III., when Baggily was built, and that of Elizabeth, certain almshouses from Commonhall Lane, Chester, dating from about the time of Henry VII., may with advantage be here adduced. Unfortunately they are no longer standing, but, before they were pulled down some forty years ago, drawings were made which have rendered possible their reconstruction by means of this sketch; and by the reproduction of the window details to show the distinctive character of this earlier type of timber work.
It is on reaching the spacious times of Queen Elizabeth that there is no longer any paucity but a positive profusion, and there ensues an _embarras de choix_ in the examples available.
Her reign and that of her immediate successors constituted what may perhaps be called the classic era of half-timbered architecture. A period of not much more than a hundred years sufficed for the style to attain its zenith and reach its decline and passing in the seventeenth century.
The frequency with which one comes across the royal cipher E. R. and the many corroborative arms and date panels, both in Cheshire and elsewhere, bring to mind the marvellous outburst of energy and activity that marked her times in all departments of life, one of whose outlets was in the building operations of the period, and especially in the domestic direction, some of the evidences of which we are now concerned with. England, as has been truly said, is awake after the slumber of the Middle Ages, and for a brief period the national life blazes with unprecedented brilliance and splendour.
Adherence to the traditional manner of timber building in Cheshire would be accounted for and be encouraged by the abundant supplies of the requisite raw material still available; for this and the adjoining counties of Shropshire and Lancashire, where this type of building also flourished, were at a safe distance from the iron-smelting works and ship-building yards which made such inroads on the woods and forests in other parts of the kingdom.
In the attractive appearance of those Elizabethan erections, that Baconian dictum (certainly challengeable, at all events, from an architect’s standpoint), “houses are built to live in and not to look on,” found plenty of contemporary refutation in the picturesque and delightful halls of this county.
As in the Edwardian Baggily Hall, so in its Elizabethan successors the “great hall” continued to be the chief feature, the principal pivot, so to say, of the general plan. But, whereas in the earlier examples it was invariably open right up to the roof, it gradually began to be divided into two storeys by the interposition of a floor. One consequence of this change was the disappearance of the minstrels’ gallery and the dais. The cause of the decline in importance of the great hall may partly have been the introduction of Italian ideas, but was mainly due to the alteration in the habits of life. The progress of civilisation brought with it the multiplication of apartments, and hence the space once entirely occupied by the lofty hall could no longer be afforded.