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,
