Northgate Street.—Commercial Buildings.—The Rows.—The Exchange.—Music
Hall and Old Theatre.—Chester Cathedral.—St. Oswald’s Church.—The
Cloisters and Chapter-House.—Promptuarium, Refectory, and King’s School.
OUR tours of inspection have, so far, been all down hill; let us now,
then, take higher ground, and move glibly onward up NORTHGATE STREET.
Passing ST. PETER’S CHURCH, at the corner of the street, we come
immediately to that classic pile of white freestone—the COMMERCIAL
BUILDINGS AND NEWS ROOM, erected in 1808, from the designs of Mr. T.
Harrison, the architect of the CASTLE and of the GROSVENOR BRIDGE.
To this succeeds SHOEMAKER’S ROW, extending about a hundred yards along
the left side of the street. The Row upon the right hand used formerly
to be known as _Broken-shin Row_, from the rugged and uneven character of
the thoroughfare, and the manifest dangers that threatened the _shins_ of
those who ventured along it. Originally it is said to have been double
its present length; but modern innovation—that wolf in sheep’s
clothing—has here, as elsewhere, played terrible havoc with “ye good olde
citie.”
A little higher up than this latter-named Row, we may profitably turn
round, and survey, from this slight eminence, the lower part of the
Street we have just traversed, together with the curious architecture of
the houses in _Shoemaker’s Row_. The scene is a picturesque one, with
its oddly-carved beams and overhanging gables, which look as if ready to
fall down on the beholder. But in order more fully to impress it on your
memory, we present you farther on with a faithful sketch of NORTHGATE
STREET, as seen from this point.
Onward we go, until an open space upon our left introduces us to the
Market-Place of Chester’s famed city. The market for vegetables is held
in this area, with no other covering save the “bright blue sky;” but the
sale of fish is conducted in that airy looking building, which occupies,
we will not say _adorns_, the lower end of the Market-Place.
[Picture: Northgate Street]
But what is yon new-looking structure, overlooking the Marketplace?
_New_, did you say? Why, it is not very far from a couple of hundred
years since that building, the EXCHANGE, first delighted the eyes of the
old-fashioned citizens. True, the stone-work has been lately restored,
and the bricks newly pointed; but practically this is the same EXCHANGE
which, in 1698, was completed at a cost of 1000_l._,—Roger Whitley, the
then Mayor, being a large contributor. The statue embellishing yonder
niche on the south front is a graceful representation of Queen Anne, of
glorious memory, in her coronation robes,—a work which must have emanated
from no mean chisel. The superstructure of the EXCHANGE stood originally
upon four rows of stone columns, the ground floor being otherwise
entirely open; but in 1756, just a hundred years ago, owing to some
well-grounded fears for the safety of the structure, the lower tiers of
shops, &c., were erected, as an extra support to the fabric; the greater
portion of these are now occupied as police-offices, lock-ups, &c. On
the higher story are the _Assembly Room_, the _Pentice_ or _Council
Chamber_, and the spacious _Town Hall_. The _Assembly Room_ was a
popular resort in the last generation, when corporation feasts, redolent
of venison and primest turtle, were perpetually being discussed there;
but it is many a long day since these savoury viands graced the
aldermanic board. Oh, for the good old days! The winter Assemblies,
too, wont to be held here, are now transferred to more congenial quarters
at the Royal Hotel. The _Town Hall_, which is the _Common Hall_ of the
city, is a noble apartment, the walls ornamented with full-length
portraits of numerous city notables, among whom figure Recorders
Townsend, Leycester, Comberbach, and Williams; and Sirs Henry Bunbury,
and John Egerton, members for the city, of eminence in their day. Here
are held the Quarter Sessions for the city, official public meetings, and
the Elections for the city representatives in parliament. Immediately
beyond this room is the _Pentice_ or Council Chamber, where the mayor and
magistrates settle the accounts of the drunk and disorderly, and take
preliminary depositions in cases of felony, &c. This room, in which the
Mayor is also annually chosen by the Council, has on its walls
full-length portraits of George III., several members of the Grosvenor
family, and of William Cross, Esq., the first Reform Mayor of Chester.
Yonder series of large panels, contain portraits of Owen Jones, Offley,
and other famous benefactors to the poor of the city. In a room in Abbey
Square, the _City Records_, extending from the reign of the first Edward
to the present time, are wretchedly huddled together—we wish we could say
_preserved_; but surely the day is not far distant when a custodian of
these important documents shall be appointed by the Council,—one who
shall not only understand, but also _glorify_ his office; then will many
a dark epoch in the city’s history be unravelled, and many a fact
revealed which now lies hidden in the dust of obscurity.
[Picture: Exchange, and Markets]
Opposite to the EXCHANGE is SAINT WERBURGH STREET, down which we must
straightway roam, having a glorious treat awaiting us, in our
long-promised visit to CHESTER CATHEDRAL.
But before we set foot within the sacred fane, let us proceed a little
further, in order to examine yonder stately-looking pile, only just
completed,—to wit, the NEW MUSIC HALL. Perhaps no structure within the
city has undergone greater or more numerous changes of character than the
shell of the one we are now surveying. The first we hear of it is as the
Chapel of St. Nicholas, built, it is supposed, early in the fourteenth
century. About this time, we read that the monks of St. Werburgh (monks
were greedy dogs!), wishing to have the whole Cathedral to themselves,
transferred the parish Church of St. Oswald, then as now occupying the
south transept of the Cathedral, to this Chapel of St. Nicholas, which
latter had perhaps been built with that idea “looming in the future.”
But the parishioners and corporation repudiated the change, and after
much litigation recovered their old parish Church,—so the chapel of St.
Nicholas was speedily deserted. After being “to let” for some fifty or
sixty years, we next hear of it as the COMMON HALL of the city, removed
here from Common-hall Street in 1545. In this service it remained, the
arena of _law_, if not of _justice_ (for the two do not always go hand in
hand), until 1698, when the magisterial chair was removed to its present
resting-place in the EXCHANGE. The third phase in its existence was its
conversion into the warehouse of a common carrier, and into a mart for
the sale of _wool_; the name it then bore was the WOOL HALL. Again was
St. Nicholas the victim of transformation; for, at least as early as the
year 1727, the walls, which once echoed forth the sounds of prayer and
praise, were made to ring with the ribald jests of a common _playhouse_.
Thirty years afterwards, there were two Theatres open at one time in
Chester,—one _here_, and the other at the Tennis Court in Foregate
Street; but about 1768, the latter establishment was closed up, and its
“galaxy of talent” transferred to the Wool Hall. In 1777, the necessary
patent from the crown was obtained for the licensing of the premises, and
the Wool Hall forthwith developed into a THEATRE ROYAL. We will not stay
to run over the numerous “stars” which have from time to time graced this
theatrical firmament; it is enough to know that this “light of other days
has faded” away, and that, so far as this building is concerned, the
Chester Theatre exists only as matter of history. In 1854–5, the Theatre
was wholly obliterated, and the building in great part taken down; but
the massive buttresses and sidelight arches of the original
ecclesiastical structure were suffered to remain, and are yet plainly
visible upon the north and south sides of the building. And now comes
the last scene of the drama,—the scene we are now contemplating. On the
ruins of the fallen Theatre, and on the foundation walls of the ancient
Chapel of St. Nicholas, modern enterprise has raised a pile more in
unison with its first estate, and far more worthy its close proximity to
the Cathedral,—the NEW MUSIC HALL. The Hall has been erected from the
designs of Mr. James Harrison, architect, whose other important works
about the city we have already noticed. Its peculiar position, beset
with heavy private buildings on three of its sides, prevented much
attention being paid to the exterior; but the east front, being
comparatively free, has afforded Mr. Harrison an opportunity for
displaying his professional skill. Seen from the other end of St.
Werburgh’s Place, the handsome Tudor windows and porch of this front have
a rich and truly picturesque effect; our artist, however, has chosen a
nearer view, in order to give strength and definition to his sketch. In
addition to a refreshment room, ladies’ waiting and retiring rooms, and
other offices, the interior presents to us a large and noble hall, 108
feet long, 40 feet wide, and 50 feet high, capable, with its two handsome
galleries, of accommodating an audience of 1400 people. Its spacious
orchestra, adorned with an organ of superior excellence, by Jackson, has
ample room for 250 performers. The neatly panelled roof, resting upon
shafted cross-beams tastefully ornamented, gives to the CHESTER MUSIC
HALL a richness and elegance wholly unapproached by any similar room in
the city. The Hall is, in every respect, a credit alike to the architect
and to the city; and it is not too much to add that Mr. J. D. Williams,
the builder and decorator of the structure, has done his part of the work
faithfully and well. One man only was killed during the progress of the
works, by an accidental fall from the ceiling of the Hall. It was opened
Nov. 26, 1855, with a grand concert, at which Clara Novello and others
officiated.
[Picture: Music Hall, and Consistory Court]
And now for our long-deferred visit to the venerable CATHEDRAL. Turning
aside from the Music Hall, we pass a small gate, and are at once in close
communion with the south-west side of this massive structure. We can see
from this point, distinctly enough, the ancient cruciform character of
the edifice, that fittest symbolical form of a Christian Church; the east
end forming the choir and Lady Chapel,—the south transept the Parish
Church of St. Oswald,—the north transept almost unappropriated,—and the
west end the nave, into which latter we are now passing through a rich
and handsome Tudor porch. And here let us observe that, as our knowledge
of architectural detail is unhappily small, we must rely for our
descriptions on the “dogmatic teaching” of other and abler heads. But
first a word or two on the foundation and history of this fine old
CATHEDRAL.
Tradition avers that under the imperial dominion of pagan Rome, a temple,
dedicated to Apollo, occupied the spot now consecrated to the Triune God;
and that this temple had itself supplanted a still older fane of the
superstitious Druids. However this may be, it is an historical fact,
amply corroborated, that Wulpherus, King of the Mercians, who flourished
about A.D. 660, and Ermenilde, his queen, perceiving the attachment of
their daughter, St. Werburgh, to a religious life, built an Abbey at
Chester, for her and such other pious ladies who should, in like manner,
prefer a conventual life. To St. Peter and St. Paul this Saxon Abbey was
dedicated. St. Werburgh, being prioress or patron of three
Abbeys—Chester, Trentham, and Hanbury—died and was buried in the latter
edifice; but owing to the threatened incursions of the Danes, her sacred
relics were thence removed, two hundred years afterwards, to Chester, for
greater security, and lodged in the Abbey her royal father had founded in
her honour. About 907, Ethelfleda, Countess of Mercia, erected on the
same site a nobler Abbey, dedicated to her whose shrine then rested
there—the immaculate St. Werburgh. Thus matters remained for nearly two
centuries, when Earl Hugh Lupus, nephew and favourite of the Conqueror,
having lived a life of debauchery and excess, compounded for his sins by
the erection of an edifice larger and more splendid than the last,
founding there a Monastery of St. Bennet’s order, under the
superintendence of Anselm, then abbot of Bec, in Normandy, afterwards
Archbishop of Canterbury. A day or two before his death, Earl Hugh was
shorn a monk of the Abbey his own remorseful bounty had founded. Immense
possessions accrued to the Abbey, both from Hugh Lupus, the founder, and
from his successors in the earldom. Early in the reign of Edward I., and
in the abbacy of Simon _de Albo Monasterio_ (Whitchurch), the rebuilding
of the Abbey was commenced. It continued slowly to progress, under
succeeding abbots, for about two hundred years, and until Abbot _Simon
Ripley_ virtually completed, in 1492, the erection of the Cathedral as we
see it in the present day. Only fifty years afterwards, the foul blast
of destruction fell like an avalanche upon the monastic institutions of
Britain—Chester among the number. Bluff King Hal, that shameless
polygamist, in a fit of pretended religious zeal, dissolved all these
fraternities, and, pocketing the spoil, dealt out their lands to his
creatures with right royal munificence. True, he left us the _shell_, in
his new foundation of a Cathedral and Chapter; but he gulped up the
_kernel_ in the shape of the manorial possessions of the Abbey. John
Bird was the first peculiar Bishop of Chester; and Thomas Clarke
transposed himself from the last Romanist Abbot to the first Protestant
Dean of Chester.
Entering the CATHEDRAL by the South Porch, we find ourselves in the NAVE,
and close to a lofty chamber now used as the Consistory Court. Here are
tried, before the chancellor of the diocese, the validity or otherwise of
disputed wills, actions for slander, and other causes falling within the
province of ecclesiastical law. Beyond, and to the left of this Court,
near the baptismal font, is the great West Entrance of the Cathedral,
built during the energetic rule of the Abbot Simon Ripley. It was the
design of Ripley to erect two massive towers at this end of the
Cathedral, and the foundations of these towers are still existing there;
but owing to an unexpected “fall in the funds,” or to some other cause,
the original intention was never carried out.
The West Entrance, as we now behold it, has a large and magnificent
window of delicate tracery, recently filled with a series of designs in
stained glass, illustrating the final sentence of the Apostles’ Creed,
“The Resurrection of the Body, and the Life Everlasting.” In the centre
of the main opening, we have the “Appearance of our Lord to St. Mary
Magdalene in the Garden;” and beneath, “Our Lord’s Supper with the
Disciples at Emmaus.” The three lights south of the centre illustrate
the “Resurrection of our Lord,” above Whom are seen the Heavenly Host,
while below are the affrighted soldiers, the angel at the tomb, with the
apostles and holy women. In the three divisions on the north side is
depicted “Our Lord in Judgment,” surrounded by the patriarchs, prophets,
apostles, and saints: beneath is the Archangel Michael trampling upon
Satan, with groups of “the Just” on their way up to Heaven, accompanied
by guardian angels. The rich tracery overhead is filled with the
“Genealogical Tree of our Lord,” commencing with the reclining figure of
Jesse, and its branches spreading through more than one hundred openings,
finishing with the birth, death, and glorification of Jesus Christ. This
is a memorial window, erected by the widow of the Rev. P. W. Hamilton, of
Hoole, near Chester, and cannot fail to be an object of surpassing
interest to every visitor. It was designed and executed by Messrs. M.
and A. O’Connor, of London.
[Picture: West Entrance to the Cathedral]
The door being open, let us step out to the open air, and refresh our
eyes with a momentary glance at the WEST ENTRANCE OF THE CATHEDRAL. This
is, externally, the most beautiful remaining portion of this glorious
edifice. Time has, of course, been at work here, as elsewhere, gnawing
away at the old red sandstone; but there is still enough left to give us
an idea of its ancient beauty.
Forms of saints are meekly kneeling
The Cathedral door above:
the which door is a beautiful double Tudor arch of chaste design,
supported on either side by four canopied niches, once ornamented with
statuettes, but now fast going to decay. Over this is the great west
window of eight lights, the whole flanked by two fine octagonal turrets
with embattled parapets. Altogether, this front is a sight grateful to
look upon, but one eminently suggestive of the ephemeral character of all
things here below.
Returning to the Nave, we find at the head of the north aisle a flight of
stairs leading up through the arched doorway into the Episcopal Palace;
through this door the bishop ordinarily enters the Cathedral in his
robes. The external wall of this aisle is one of the most ancient
portions of the entire structure, being part of the Norman edifice of
Hugh Lupus. It has two doors, one at each end, opening to the east and
west walks of the CLOISTERS, of which more anon. The windows of the Nave
and of the clerestory above it, are all of the perpendicular character,
and throw a flood of dim religious light into the interior. There is but
one stained-glass window, and _that_ an obituary one, in the south aisle
of the nave. Numerous monuments deck the walls, and disfigure the
pillars of the nave, conspicuous among which are those to Dean Smith,
translator of Longinus, Thucydides, and other classic authors; also
memorials of the Mainwaring, Dod, Buchanan, Matthews, Ward, and Hilton
families. One in the north aisle to the memory of Captain John Moore
Napier, who died in India of Asiatic cholera, is worthy of special
remark, from the spirited and touching epitaph, written by his uncle,
that brave and gallant soldier, Sir Charles Napier, the veteran hero of
Scinde. It runs thus:—
The tomb is no record of high lineage;
His may be traced by his name.
His race was one of soldiers;
Among soldiers he lived, among them he died,
A soldier falling where numbers fell with him
In a barbarous land.
Yet there died none more generous,
More daring, more gifted, more religious.
On his early grave
Fell the tears of stern and hardy men,
As his had fallen on the grave of others.
True poetry this, albeit expressed in modest prose! The Nave is 160 feet
long, 74½ feet wide, and 78 feet high.
The following are the present dignitaries of the Cathedral:—
BISHOP—The Right Rev. John Graham, D.D.
DEAN—The Very Reverend Frederick Anson, D.D.
ARCHDEACONS.
Ven. Isaac Wood, Middlewich. Ven. John Jones, Liverpool.
CANONS.
Rev. James Slade, M.A. Rev. Thomas Eaton, M.A.
Rev. George B. Blomfield, M.A. Rev. Temple Hillyard, M.A.
HONORARY CANONS.
Rev. C. A. Thurlow, M.A. Rev. Hugh Stowell, M.A.
Rev. Hugh McNeile, D.D. Rev. William Cooke, M.A.
MINOR CANONS.
Rev. W. Harrison, M.A. Rev. R. M. Smith, M.A.
Rev. E. F. Thurland, Precentor. Rev. H. Venables, M.A.
Through an oaken door at the extremity of the north aisle, we pass into
the north wing of the Transept,—like the Nave, not appropriated to any of
the ordinary services of the church. The lower portion of its walls is
indisputably Norman work, as is evidenced by the seven-arched triforium,
which traverses midway its eastern side. A small doorway in the corner
of this wall leads up, by a spiral staircase, to the triforium and great
tower, as also to the clerestory gallery, which “threads its devious
course” almost wholly round the sacred edifice. The archway under the
great north window of the Transept conducts to the Chapter House and
Cathedral Library. Two monuments in this wing deserve our notice,—one to
the memory of Sir John Grey Egerton, Bart., sometime M.P. for
Chester,—and the other to Colonel Roger Barnston, of Chester, erected by
the subscriptions of his admiring friends and fellow-citizens.
Immediately over the monument of Sir John Egerton is placed a piece of
magnificent tapestry, copied from one of Raphael’s masterpieces,
representing “Elymas the sorcerer struck with blindness before Sergius
Paulus.” This is stated to have been brought over from a nunnery in
France, and, until the recent alterations, usurped the place of the
reredos at the back of the High Altar.
Thence returning to the Nave, we pass under the massive stone screen into
the CHOIR, and are at once filled with admiration of its noble
proportions, and of the taste and elegance which everywhere pervade it.
The great features of the structure we have hitherto examined have been
chiefly architectural, but here we are introduced to a scene in which all
the resources of human art have been brought to bear by the creature man
in honour of his Creator God. Look at this gorgeous canopy of ancient
oak, adorning and supporting the fine organ overhead—at that magnificent
range of Stalls, also of old oak, four-and-twenty on either side, crowned
with canopies of the richest tracery, no one stall a copy of the other—at
those pews of fairest form and choicest elaboration—at yon Shrine of St.
Werburgh, now the Episcopal Throne—at the handsome stone pulpit—at the
bold oak lectern, the eagle bearing upon his wings the glad tidings of
salvation—at the graceful Altar-screen and Holy Table—and at the
stained-glass enrichments of the two great east windows, through which
gleams the morning sun,
Dyed
In the soft chequerings of a sleepy light.—
As all these meet our wondering eyes, then do we awake to the
consciousness that this is the Lord’s House, and, as it richly deserves
to be, the Mother Church of the city and diocese. The seats of the
STALLS, or _misericordiæ_, are worthy of our inspection, every one
bearing some device different from its companions. The THRONE is
composed, in great part, of the pedestal on which rested, in Romish days,
the sacred relics of St. Werburgh,—those relics which, according to
Father Bradshaw, performed such great and astounding miracles. The
images surrounding it are supposed to be those of Mercian kings and
saints, to which royal line St. Werburgh belonged. The Throne has been
improved and raised some feet within the last fifteen years. The stone
PULPIT replaced an older one of monarch oak, which has since been
transformed into a long open seat for the Lady Chapel. The Communion
Table and its appointments are all in good taste; and the elegant stone
REREDOS, which divides the ALTAR from the Lady Chapel, is of exceedingly
chaste and appropriate character. The subjects in the east clerestory
window represent “Our blessed Lord between the four Evangelists,” over
whom are depicted five incidents in Christ’s career on earth,—the Agony
in the Garden—Jesus bearing His Cross—the Crucifixion—the
Resurrection—and the Ascension. The entire length of the CHOIR is 125
feet, breadth 74½ feet, and height 78 feet.
The north aisle of the Choir has one stained-glass obituary window, but
no other object of interest, save a few old monuments, and a vestry for
the Canons, the latter being a portion of the old Norman edifice. We
pass hence to the LADY CHAPEL, at the east end of the Choir, supposed by
some to be the oldest portion of the present re-edified Cathedral. It is
65 feet long, 74½ feet wide, including the side aisles, and 33 feet high.
The Chapel consisted originally of one central aisle only, the two side
aisles having been added at a later period. At the east end stood the
Shrine of St. Werburgh, until the Reformation saw it removed to the
Choir, and converted thenceforward into the Bishop’s Throne. The east
window of the Lady Chapel is embellished with stained glass of the
richest description—the subjects being severally, the Annunciation, the
Nativity, the Wise Men’s Offering, the Presentation in the Temple, Christ
disputing with the Doctors, the Baptism of John, the Water turned into
Wine, Healing the Lame, Walking on the Sea, Feeding the Multitude, the
Transfiguration, the Raising of Lazarus, the Entry into Jerusalem,
Washing the Disciples’ Feet, and the Last Supper,—the whole crowned with
symbolical figures of the Twelve Apostles. In this Chapel George Marsh
was condemned to be burnt for heresy in the days of Queen Mary.
The south aisle of the Choir and Lady Chapel has all its windows adorned
with stained glass, the one at the east end being an obituary memorial
for the late Hugh Robert Hughes, Esq., of the Bache, erected by his son,
inheritor from his uncle, Lord Dinorben, of Kinmel Park, Flintshire.
Obituary windows to the Humberston and Anson families, and two others
piously erected by the present worthy Dean, complete the adornment of
this aisle. Dean Anson has done more to beautify his Cathedral than all
his predecessors put together! Under an indented arch in the east wall
recline the dust and ashes of one of the abbots of St. Werburgh, the slab
adorned with a cross _floree_. In the centre of this aisle stands an
altar-tomb, once built into the wall of the Sedilia. This tomb tradition
assigns to Henry IV. of Germany; but it appears that monarch died and was
buried in his own dominions: other and better authority surmises it to be
the tomb of one of the later abbots.
From this aisle we pass into the south wing of the Transept, time out of
mind appropriated to the parish CHURCH OF ST. OSWALD. So early as the
ninth century, a Church existed here, independent of the Abbey; but on
the enlargement of the latter in the thirteenth century, St. Oswald’s
became incorporated with the Abbey, as its southern transept. This was
the Church, the functions of which were transferred by the monks to St.
Nicholas Chapel, now the MUSIC HALL; but the parishioners could not
forget their first love, and soon wormed their way back again to St.
Oswald’s. The Church contains some handsome monuments, worthy the
attention of the visitor.
Crossing the nave, we see opposite to us a door, introducing us to the
CLOISTERS of this once powerful Abbey. The arch we are now passing under
is a Norman specimen of exceeding purity; and disfigured as it has been
by modern _improvements_, yet affords a high degree of interest to the
intelligent antiquary. The CLOISTERS once formed a quadrangle of 110
feet square; but the south portion has almost entirely disappeared, the
bases of some of the pillars alone remaining. The east walk has a
doorway leading into the CHAPTER HOUSE, through a vaulted Vestibule of
great architectural beauty. These two apartments were the favourite
places of sepulture of the puissant Norman earls, as well as of the
earlier abbots of the Monastery. In the Chapter House, which is a noble
building of the twelfth century, are deposited the Cathedral Library, as
well as some vestiges of antiquity found within the Abbey and its
precincts. Of these, a part of the stone coffin of Abbot Simon Ripley,
and a Roman red sandstone inscription found near the present Deanery, are
the most prominent and interesting. Over the door hang two
bullet-tattered flags, once belonging to the 22nd (Cheshire) Regiment. A
passage beyond the Chapter House leads, by the Maiden’s Walk, into the
Abbey Court; and a doorway at the northwest corner to the Dormitory, now
totally destroyed. A beautiful Norman chamber runs along the side of the
western walk, and is variously designated the Promptuarium and _Abbot’s
Hall_. This apartment, although an engraving of it appeared in Ormerod’s
“History of Cheshire,” was but little known to Chester antiquaries until
the year 1849, when this city was honoured with a visit from the British
Archæological Association. A vast amount of rubbish, the accumulation of
centuries, at that period blocked up the chamber; but the greater part of
it was removed at the expense of the Association, and an able paper
delivered on the subject, by Mr. Ashpitel, at their Chester Congress.
That gentleman pronounced it to be the _Promptuarium_, or _Buttery_ of
the Abbey; but a room, originally 105 feet long, seems of undue
proportions for such a purpose. Mr. W. F. Ayrton, Secretary of the
Chester Archæological Society, with greater apparent probability
conceives it to be the _secunda aula_ of the Monastery, such as we find
described in the charter of Henry VIII. Here it was that audience was
given to strangers and dependants, and where friends of the abbot were
temporarily entertained during their visits to the Monastery.
The wall of the obliterated south walk, notwithstanding the cloister
itself is ‘no more,’ is yet not without interest to the real lover of
antiquity. Two rude arcades of late Norman work stretch along this wall,
the arches of which mark the place of sepulture of four early abbots of
the foundation. Some of the bases of the pillars once supporting the
roof of the south walk are still visible on the Preese, or Cloister
Green.
Returning to the north walk, we pass thence, under a richly ornamented
arch, into another apartment on the right hand, now and for three
centuries past occupied as the GRAMMAR SCHOOL of the Cathedral. Few
portions of the conventual buildings are so little known to visitors as
the one we are now entering,—few will so amply repay their inspection as
will this, the ancient REFECTORY of this once famous Monastery. Time
was,
And a gay time it was then, O!
when this noble apartment, the _Frater House_ of the Abbey, re-echoed
with the sounds of feast and revelry,—when the monks of St. Werburgh, and
their privileged friends, discussed, in joyous mood, the good things of
this life, dished up to them from the kitchens and buttery of the Abbey.
Fancy how the tables groaned with the savoury venison and other titbits
from the granges of the abbot,—with the products of their favourite
kaleyards and fisheries,—and their wines and liquors brought from beyond
sea,—and say, if you think these degenerate times can show aught to equal
those palmy days! After all, though
Many have told of the monks of old,
What a saintly race they were;
Yet ’tis most true that a merrier crew
Could scarce be found elsewhere.
For they sang and laughed,
And the rich wine quaffed,
And lived on the daintiest fare.
And the Abbot meek, with his form so sleek,
Was the heartiest of them all,
And would take his place, with a smiling face,
When the REFECTORY bell would call;
And they sang and laughed,
And the rich wine quaffed,
Till they shook the olden hall!
Say what you will of the austerities supposed to belong to the monastic
life, those recluses of old lived a life as jolly, as careless, and as
free, as the gayest of us in this 19th century! Yonder, at the head of
that staircased recess in the south wall, is the ancient Oratory, from
which one of the ‘knights of the cowl’ daily ‘said grace,’ and pronounced
a classic oration, while his brethren were at meals in the spacious hall
beneath him. Oh, what a sight for carnal eyes like his to dwell and
gloat upon! But we must not soliloquise. The Fratry, or Refectory, in
the days we are describing, was of nobler dimensions even than now; for
it then extended some twenty or thirty feet farther westward, and was
doubtless shorn of its fair proportions at the time the present road was
constructed from the Abbey Square. This room, which is 98 feet long and
34 feet high, has a range of six pointed windows on the one side, and
four on the other, and had once an eastern lancet-shaped window of
considerable beauty. Of the window of the present day we forbear to
speak; simply let us hope that the hour is at hand, when so hideous an
abortion of all that is “chaste and beautiful in art” shall vanish from
the scene, and be replaced by a window worthy of the apartment it was
meant to adorn! The steps leading up to the Oratory communicated
originally with the DORMITORY of the Abbey, which prior to the present
century occupied the higher range of the eastern cloister, but has now
entirely disappeared.
At the Reformation, when King Henry VIII. transformed the Abbey into a
Cathedral, he founded here, in the thirty-sixth year of his reign, a
GRAMMAR SCHOOL for twenty-four boys, and endowed it with a Head Master,
and numerous privileges, some of which it was _our_ lot, twenty years
ago, personally to share. The history of the School, and of the many
Cheshire worthies educated within its walls, would furnish matter for a
distinct treatise, and it is not improbable that such may one day appear
from our humble pen. For the present, then, we will retire from this
scene of our boyhood’s delight, and ascending the range of steps near the
entrance door, emerge from the “bosom of our spiritual mother” at a point
very close to the head of Abbey Street.