Chapter IV: Preface (4)

The common gaol of the city was in the North Gate, and the prisoners there confined must have had very close quarters. A similar use of the North Gate was made at Canterbury (where the building still remains), and possibly in other places. Just outside the North Gate is the Hospital of St. John, and here in later years the prisoners attended divine service. A memorial of this is to be seen in the little bridge which crossed the fosse, now the Canal, and which has been sometimes called “The Bridge of Sighs.” Not far from here westward is Morgan’s Mount, with a lower chamber and an upper platform from which a fine view may be obtained. During the siege of the city a very important battery was planted here, and the site may well arouse memories of anxious and troublous times. Still further west is Pemberton’s Parlour, so called from the fact that in 1700 John Pemberton established a rope walk here within the walls, and probably from this spot watched at times the operations of his workmen, or rested here after his own labours. Though now semi-circular in shape, it may once have been circular, with a passage through it. It also bore other names, as “Dille’s Tower,” or “The Goblin’s Tower,” the latter suggestive of a ghost story connected with it. An inscription on the city side records the repair of this portion of the Walls 200 years ago, and reminds us of those civic functionaries, the murengers, who had charge of the Walls. The north-west angle of the Walls is marked by Bonewaldesthorne’s Tower, and connected with it by a battlemented curtain wall is the New or Water Tower. When the latter was built in 1323 it was washed by the waters of the Dee, and not long since the rings attached to it for the mooring of vessels might have been seen. At the present day the Tower rises out of gardens, and the river is at some little distance away. Continuing our walk southwards we come to the Roodeye. Formerly, as its name implies, this was an island surrounded at high tide by the waters of the estuary, but it gradually silted up. In 1609 Mr. W. Lester, mercer, who was then Mayor, founded, chiefly at his own cost, the St. George’s Race, which was to be run on St. George’s Day. This was the origin of the Chester Races, which take place ordinarily in the first week in May, which would correspond with old St. George’s Day. On its first foundation the race was introduced by a stately procession, in which certain emblematical characters took part, as well as the Mayor and Corporation “in their best apparell and in scarlet,” and it was followed by a civic banquet at the Pentice. We may call up such scenes as these as we look over the Racecourse, and not content ourselves with imagining what things are like, when that busy throng comes to the Chester Races nowadays. Here, too, were at times presented the Miracle Plays and city Pageants, and Triumphs and other games, including that of football, promoted by the Company of Shoemakers on Shrove Tuesday, otherwise Goteddesse Day, which in 1539 was abolished _owing to its dangerous_ character, foot races being substituted. We may think, too, of the training of soldiers here in Elizabeth’s reign, and in recent years of the Yeomanry, until they were removed to Delamere Forest. As we reach the southern side, and see the waters of the Dee, we may picture to ourselves Edgar rowed up by the tributary princes to the Church of St. John, and in later times see the Walls manned by archers and other brave defenders, ready to resist the incursions of the Welsh. In short, the Walls are full of interesting memories, though only one event is chronicled in an inscription in stone, and that is on the Phœnix Tower, so called from the device of the Painters’ and Stationers’ Company, which is carved upon its south wall. It was from the top of the Tower that King Charles I. witnessed the defeat of his forces on Rowton Moor.

But though only one event is thus definitely recorded, we can think of others--of the monks bringing in solemn procession the relics of St. Werburgh at some critical time of danger, and of the protection which these venerable Walls afforded to the dwellers in the city. Now indeed they afford a pleasant and enjoyable promenade, much frequented both by residents and visitors; but time was when they were an absolute necessity to secure the safety of the citizens, and needed to be jealously guarded by their watchmen, whilst the Gates which provided an entrance had their sergeants and keepers. And thus a walk round the Walls should not fail to suggest a contrast between the peaceful days in which we live, and the troublous and disturbed times which often threatened our forefathers.

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.

ALMS HOUSES:
COMMONHALL LANE, CHESTER,
PULLED DOWN ABOUT 1870.
]

ALMS HOUSES: COMMONHALL LANE: CHESTER
PULLED DOWN ABOUT 1870.
]

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.

An exemplification of this is provided by Bramall, where the “great hall” has a flat ceiling, and above this is the drawing-room; an apartment growing rapidly into importance in Elizabethan times. This upper chamber, as is the case of Bramall, becomes more handsomely treated with raised plaster and other ornament, and is, moreover, much loftier than the hall below it. Access was by means of a spiral staircase of solid blocks of oak. Bramall, like other contemporary halls of its class, was originally built in quadrangular form; but when peaceful times came, the owners, desiring a more open outlook, secured this by doing away with one side of the quadrangle, and with it swept away the gate-house. The south-eastern wing contains, as houses of this period commonly do, a domestic chapel and also the fine banqueting room. One of its most noteworthy features, “the long gallery,” of which Ormerod gives a sketch, has disappeared. Bramall originally belonged to the Bromeales or Bromhals, but passed by marriage to the Davenports as far back as the reign of Edward III. From the sketches an idea of the general rich character of the timber framing can be gathered. Rivalling it in some respects, one may next mention Moreton or Little Moreton Hall, near the Staffordshire border. It is surrounded by a moat spanned by a stone bridge, and sentinelled by a gatehouse of striking proportions, through which one enters the courtyard, where the many-angled bays at once arrest attention.

By whom they were contrived or, at all events, actually constructed, and when, can be learned from the inscriptions carved above the upper windows, which run thus:

“God is al in al thing.”

“This windows whire made by William Moreton in the yeare of Oure Lorde mdlix.”

“Richard Dale Carpeder made thies windows by the Grac of God.”

Vying with these charming bays in interest and importance, there is occupying the entire length of the main wing a magnificent room on the topmost (the third) floor which, tradition has it, was graced by the presence of Queen Elizabeth, and danced in by her Majesty.

It is at such places as Moreton Hall, with its fine ballroom, to quote some reflections which resulted from an architect’s--the late Mr. H. Taylor, of Manchester--study of this old house, we see the provisions made in the past for enjoying life in the country. In this old house the disturbed state of former times is brought vividly to our minds if we have sufficiently narrow shoulders to creep through the sliding panel into the apartment which was a harbour of refuge for those whose life was in danger. When hotly pursued, the fugitive escaped down a sort of well and through an underground passage. At Moreton Hall, built when Italian ideas were creeping into the country, it is instructive to notice how the architect was apparently puzzled by the conflicting principles of our humble and beautiful Gothic and of the more pretentious Italian style, _e.g._ the ballroom, which is on the third storey, has an open-timbered, pointed roof, with a thrust upon the walls. This thrust he evidently thought it not proper to counteract by buttresses as his brethren a hundred years before would have done, and from this cause the stability of the building has for some time been threatened. The inhabitants at Moreton, we cannot but feel, must have been put to sore inconvenience many a time, inasmuch as no one had then invented corridors, and so there are four or five staircases. This arrangement must have been very disagreeable on a wet night, as the bedrooms could only be reached from different sides of the building by crossing the courtyard with or without candles or lanterns. Much as one is tempted to linger at Moreton, there is that other member of the famous triad of half-timbered treasures on this side of the shire awaiting consideration--Adlington. This is the home of one of Cheshire’s oldest families, in whose possession it has remained for many centuries. Of considerable exterior interest and entered by an admirably-proportioned, two-storeyed porch, it is, however, the interior of the great hall that constitutes its chief glory. A very noticeable feature is the cove-shaped panelling that runs right across one end and contains a large number of shields of arms of the various families connected with the house of Legh.

The roof is of remarkably fine character with principals of hammer-beam design, and is a most effective and decorative piece of richly-moulded carpentry and carved work; the whole having an obviously Gothic character.

Upon some other “memorials” in this part of the county, all deserving to be dealt with at length, a very brief reference is all that can be bestowed--the little priest’s house at Prestbury, with its quaint and curious square-ended bays and four-way gables; Gawsworth Hall, now the rectory, with its remarkable three-storeyed octagonal bay; Handforth Hall, displaying a finely carved doorway; Alderley Edge with its farmhouse, “Eagle and Child” Inn, and cottages, with gables dressed out in the local fashion of draughtboard or chequered devices.

Of these examples it may be said that, while they all may have a certain family likeness, yet each possesses an individuality of its own, needing but a closer acquaintance for recognition and appreciation.

To pass to the opposite corner of the county, the Wirral. Contrary to what might have been expected, having regard to the fact that the whole of this peninsula, “from Blacon Point to Hilbree,” was formerly one continuous thickly-wooded tract, the region yields practically nothing of half-timbered work. The deforesting which took place under Edward III. may be mainly answerable for the absence alluded to.

This district did, however, once possess in a home of the Stanleys, Hooton Hall, what Ormerod describes as “a very large quadrangular building in timber,” and of which he gives an illustration. It was demolished in 1778, and in its stead stands the present stone-built successor.

Mid and Southern Cheshire well make up for the Wirral’s shortcomings.

To cite but a couple, Carden Hall and Broxton Old Hall. The former must have been a superb example, beautiful alike in situation and in itself; though now somewhat marred by sundry modernisings. Its neighbour, Broxton, has undergone restoration, but retains a good amount of the original framing. As fairly representative of its kind, a detail of a gable is given, “_ab uno disce omnes_.”

Seeing that several towns capable of supplying scores of opportunities for pursuing our subject--_e.g._ Stockport, Sandbach, Middlewich, and Nantwich--have been left out of sight, it is obvious that not a tithe of the county’s wealth has been touched upon in this slight survey.

If, however, none of these towns has been laid under tribute, a similar course with respect to the capital city would be indefensible.

Inasmuch, however, as Chester’s half-timbering has so often been dealt with from the standpoints of antiquary, artist, and architect, more than an abbreviated review seems unrequired, and anything like a complete _catalogue raisonné_ uncalled for of the possessions of what must once have been a veritable “black and white” city, and can still claim to be one of the chief places for studying the style.

Chronologically the Chester timber buildings may not number any quite comparable to Shrewsbury’s “Butcher’s Row”; howbeit there is at least one example running that noted Gothic specimen fairly close, as regards age, at all events--the house at the corner of Castle Street being probably one, if not _the_ earliest--(_pace_ a placard on the seventeenth-century house in Lower Bridge Street proclaiming _it_ to be the oldest house, adding a mere matter of 600 years by converting the figure six on the beam into a nought! and by this doctored date duping, it is to be feared, many an unsuspecting visitor!).

This corner house is closely associated with the names of those Chester worthies, the Randle Holmes, of heraldic and antiquarian renown. An examination of the mouldings and other details of this house points to it having been erected in Tudor times.

Happily still confronting us in Lower Bridge Street is that old hostelry known as the “Falcon,” and also “The Bear and Billet,” once the town house of the Earls of Shrewsbury and Talbot. The former has a most engagingly picturesque appearance, with an effective row of quatrefoils under the range of many-mullioned windows. Looking at the proportion of the fronts of both these buildings taken up by their ranges of windows, stretching from side to side, brings to mind that Derbyshire doggerel, coined to suit a somewhat like case--

“Hardwick Hall, more glass than wall.”

Some reference must be made to the famous fronts in Watergate Street, where is “God’s Providence House.” About the only piece of the original timber-work remaining is the beam with the inscription reminiscent of the plague, which in 1647 so ravaged the city.

Lower down the street is “Bishop Lloyd’s Palace” with its series of panels containing interesting and quaint renderings of sacred subjects. Further down the street one comes to Stanley Palace, which now has no frontage to the street, and hides the attraction of a fine flank up a passage. This is a notable specimen of Jacobean Renaissance as applied to timber work, showing but few traces of the almost forgotten Gothic which dictated its construction.

Among the minor examples may be mentioned a row of quaint little dwellings in Park Street facing the city walls. Of these “Nine Houses” but six are now standing. They have suffered from the insertion of incongruous sash windows, but this has not deprived them of all their interest. One may still admire the handiwork of the old carpenters who there so effectively employed the billet-moulds to the timbers and the chevron cutting on the beams.

Exemplifying a later manner and different treatment, the house in Whitefriars is reserved as the last of this brief review. This bit of seventeenth century work with its widely overhanging upper portion, and the raised plaster ornament in the gables, with the date 1658, may claim to be regarded as not the least interesting of the “memorials” we have been considering.

Those who esteem the half-timbered work as among the county’s chief antiquarian attractions and architectural assets--indeed all who feel the fascination of the style--cannot but welcome the reversion to the type and the revival of the manner in recent years.

Among the patrons of the building arts none was more susceptible to the peculiar charm of this “nogging-work” than the late Duke of Westminster, who caused to be erected on his Eaton estate numerous buildings faithfully reproducing the forms and features of their Cheshire prototypes. In this work his Grace was fortunate in having at command the services of an architect, Mr. John Douglas, than whom no one has been more successful in recapturing the spirit of the old timber-work. To the late Duke’s liking for and desire to keep up the “Cheshire style” of architecture, Chester itself owes much that has been done towards preserving and also perpetuating the traditional character of its buildings. It is a matter for congratulation that the lead given has been so loyally followed, both by the Corporation and by the citizens. Another notable instance of revival is to be seen at Bidston Court in the Wirral; when this fine half-timbered house was built a few years ago, an actual and accurate reproduction of those bays at Old Moreton Hall was embodied therein.

By way of summing up the subject, the following words from Ruskin may perhaps be not out of place:--

“If indeed there be any profit in our knowledge of the past, or any joy in the thought of being remembered hereafter, which can give strength to present exertion or patience to present endurance, there are two duties respecting national architecture whose importance it is impossible to overrate: the first, to render the architecture of the day historical; and, the second, to preserve, as the most precious of inheritance, that of past ages.”

AN OLD CONSISTORY COURT

By the Archdeacon of Chester

The title of this chapter may possibly suggest to the reader that it will unfold some startling records of the proceedings which have been enacted in one of those ecclesiastical institutions called a Consistory Court. Let me at once dispel such anticipation. Though a search into the dusty documents which have accumulated might reveal some interesting details of some _cause célèbre_, and disclose and hand on to future generations some forgotten page of history, my purpose is much less ambitious, for it is rather with the building and interior arrangement of the Court than with its legal proceedings that I propose to deal.

One of the most interesting features of Chester Cathedral is, that it gives us specimens of every style of architecture, except, indeed, the Saxon. You have Norman work in the remains of S. Anselm’s Church and buildings; exquisite examples of Early English in the Lady Chapel and Chapter House; Decorated and Perpendicular of every period in the Choir, Nave, and great South Transept; and Jacobean in the Consistory Court and in some minor details. It is of the latter that we are about to treat.

The visitor to the Cathedral, as he enters by the south-west porch, may see on his left a plain nail-studded door, reached by three steps, and set in a stone screen surmounted by heavy ornamental masonry of the date of the seventeenth century. The doorway and wall may have been built in the sixteenth century, when the unfinished south-west tower was projected and commenced, but the superincumbent balustrade is at any rate later, and bears the date 1636, and on a small shield the initials “J. B.”--clear indication that it was erected by John Bridgman, who was Bishop of Chester from 1619 to 1650. It is through this door that the Consistory Court, which is, in fact, the basement of the unfinished tower, is reached. Comparatively few visitors to the Cathedral ever see this portion of it. One reason for this may be that it is not under the complete control of the Dean and Chapter like the rest of the building. The Consistory Court is the Bishop’s Court, and the papers contained therein are under his jurisdiction, and it would not do for the general public to be admitted indiscriminately, unless they were stored in safe receptacles. A Consistory Court implies a Bishop; in fact, “a consistory is the court of a Bishop, in which the principle is that he is surrounded by representatives of the clergy of his diocese, who act as his council. In modern times, however, the Consistory Courts of Bishops are held by deputy, the Chancellor of the diocese or one of his surrogates being the sole representatives of the Bishop and clergy.” Until the foundation of the See of Chester in 1541 there would, of course, be no Consistory Court in Chester, unless, indeed, the Bishop of Lichfield, who at one time had a throne or seat in S. John’s Church, ever had one there. When the Abbey Church became the Cathedral of the new See, it would seem that the Lady Chapel was used as the Consistory Court. At any rate it was here that George Marsh was tried and condemned to death in 1554, when George Cotes was Bishop. In _The Life of Bridgman_ there is an allusion to this original position of the Court, when it is stated that Mrs. Bridgman was buried “at the east end of the church, next to the _old_ Consistory Court, which is now called our Ladye’s Chapel.” Whether the Court was moved to the place it now occupies before Bishop Bridgman’s time, I cannot say. He, at any rate, put up the screen (or the upper portion of it) which separates it from the south aisle, as is shown by the date and by the arms of the Bridgman family. The Bishop was responsible for many repairs and improvements in the Cathedral, and “in the Pallace of the Bishop which was in great decay”; and in a manuscript in the University Library at Cambridge, there is a full and interesting account of what he did in this respect. Curiously enough no mention is made of this screen or of the fittings of the Court, and yet both undoubtedly were due to him, and erected in his time. He may have rightly thought that the basement of this tower at the west end of the church was a more seemly and fitting place for the holding of a Court, even though the business conducted there was ecclesiastical, than the chapel at the east, which was designed and used for the most sacred offices of religion. It may be said here that it is not an uncommon thing for the Consistory Court to be a portion of the Cathedral. This is the case at Carlisle, Durham, Chichester, Hereford, Lichfield, Llandaff, Peterborough, Ripon, and Winchester (and this list may not be exhaustive), though the exact position of the Court in the church varies considerably.

On entering the Court, the visitor cannot fail to be struck with the old-world scene before him as he looks upon the fittings, which were put up 270 years ago. There is a square enclosure, surrounded by a partition of oak some four feet high. To this there are entrance-doors at each corner. Inside a seat is fixed all round this partition, the central space being filled with a large square table covered with a green cloth. At the west side, reached by three steps, is the raised seat for the Chancellor, with a desk in front of it. The seat is sufficiently wide for two persons, so that the Chancellor might have an assessor by his side. The judgment-seat is flanked on either side by another seat with a smaller desk before it. It is rendered imposing by an elongated oak canopy with a carved cornice and by the Jacobean panelling which supports it. The cornice is, unfortunately, not quite perfect. A portion is missing on the south side, and on the north a piece has been cut away. The arms of the Bridgman family are to be seen in one of the centre panels, thus proving that the Bishop was responsible for its erection, and on the imperfect panel on the north side are the letters

EDM
CAN^.

These, no doubt, refer to Edmund Mainwaring, LL.D., who is styled by Sir Peter Leycester, “Chancellor of Chester in 1642,” though his patent is not in the office. It shows that the seat was intended for the Chancellor, and that it was originally constructed for the position it now occupies. At the north-east corner of the enclosure is a perched-up seat resting on the top of the oak partition which surrounds the enclosure. Any person who sat in it would have to mount upon the seat which surrounds the table, and to use it as a resting-place for his feet. It does not look a very safe position. We are left to conjecture for whom this seat was intended. It may have been for the defendant (perhaps a notorious evil-doer) in ecclesiastical suits or for the witness who was to be examined. In either case the seat was an uncomfortable one, and the occupant would certainly be under close observation. As we look upon these fittings, black with the lapse of years, one is tempted to think how much they would be improved by careful and judicious cleaning. The seat referred to is evidently of the same date as the other fittings, but it is never occupied now, though the Court is used regularly, and the Chancellor or his deputy sits on days duly advertised to hear applications for faculties. It may be doubted whether there is any other Court in England which has a similar experience, and of which it can be said that the seating and arrangements are identical with what existed nearly 300 years ago. I have been told that there is one of the same kind at Lincoln: if that be so, the Chester Consistory Court cannot claim to be an absolutely unique example. The Consistory Court at Lichfield, which is under St. Chad’s Chapel in the south aisle of the Choir, and is probably the oldest part of the building, has in it some curious old Jacobean woodwork, but this is part of the stall work put up after 1661. The Court has been presided over for many years by the Worshipful Chancellor Espin, one of the two clerical Diocesan Chancellors at the present time. I am indebted to him for the following:--“I do not know of any other Court which has preserved its ancient character as ours has. I suspect that some, perhaps many, of the Consistory Courts in the older dioceses have been dismantled. Some years ago, when Bishop Hobhouse was Chancellor of the Diocese of Lichfield, I went to stay with him. He told me that he had been touring about the West of England, and among other places had lionised Gloucester Cathedral. Having been taken round by the verger, he asked next to see the Consistory Court. The verger had never heard of it, and said there was no such place there. Hobhouse insisted, and after some altercation an old verger was sent for who had retired on a pension, and was mouldering away somewhere hard by. He did remember, but said the Court had never been used for many years, in fact, not since 1856. When Hobhouse was taken to the place, he found that all the fittings had been cleared away, and it was made a receptacle for coals and lumber. Alas for the judicature of England! I believe the ancient ‘Alma Curia de Arcubus’ (Court of Arches) is now a cheesemonger’s warehouse.” The Court still retains some relics of its old procedure. The official who opens and adjourns the Court, and who cites all objectors to an application to appear, always begins with the formula, “Oyez, Oyez!” carefully pronounced as “Oh yes, Oh yes!”

It has been stated above that the Court is under Episcopal control, and so is not generally seen by visitors to the Cathedral. Any one, however, who is desirous of seeing this “Memorial of Old Cheshire” can do so by applying to the verger in attendance, and will be repaid by his visit, as it is extremely doubtful whether anywhere in England such a venerable specimen of the accessories of a legal court of olden days can be found. The visitor, if gifted with a lively imagination, may people the Court with persons of a former generation, and call up in fancy some keenly-contested suit in connection with Ecclesiastical discipline, or some matrimonial or probate cause. If it should happen that the Court is sitting, he may see the Chancellor hearing applications for faculties, and may possibly note the opposition which is sometimes raised; but he will not be likely to witness such a scene of excitement as recently marked the Consistory Court of a southern diocese. He must be content with hearing the judge give his decision, it may be after a few explanatory remarks, in the words: “The Faculty is decreed in terms of the Citation.”

HALTON COURT LEET

By V. B. Davies

There is an interesting little village called Halton on the northerly border of Cheshire, about two and a half miles from Runcorn; but as it is not on the high road to anywhere in particular, it is little known and seldom visited by strangers. It is interesting because of the ruins of an old castle which are there. This castle is situated on a high hill commanding an extensive view over a large part of Cheshire and across the river Mersey (which is of considerable width at this point) into Lancashire. Halton Castle is of very ancient date. It was built by Hugh Lupus, first Earl of Chester, soon after the Norman Conquest, and the manor and fee of Halton descended to Henry the Fourth, since when it has been annexed to the Crown, except during the time of the Protectorate of Cromwell, when it was put up for sale by auction and purchased by Henry Brooke of Halton, a predecessor of the present Sir Richard Brooke. On the restoration of the monarchy it reverted back to the Crown, and at this day it belongs to the King, who, as the Duke of Lancaster, is Lord of the Manor.

In former days the stewards of this manor were officials of considerable importance, and one of the early stewards was John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. The late Mr. William Beamont and Mr. Robert Davies of Warrington were stewards in more recent years. On the death of the latter gentleman in 1902, Mr. Bolden, one of the officials in the Duke of Lancaster’s office in London, was appointed steward, and Mr. Vere Beamont Davies and Mr. Herbert Hatton of Warrington were appointed deputy stewards, and this arrangement holds good at the present time. In connection with this manor there is a court of very ancient origin, termed the Halton Court Leet, held at the castle, and over which the deputy steward presides. The earliest records of the court are dated 1347, in the time of Edward III.; but it is believed the court goes back for a period of about 660 years. The court formerly had a very extensive jurisdiction and a variety of duties to perform, but at the present time it has been superseded by the county courts and magistrates’ courts, and its powers have passed away.