“And the Rows! them long bars of the gridiron,
That Dickens hev wrote on—so quare;
Them ere Rows are a great institution,
In the town at the mouth of the Yare.”
“Great Yarmouth is one vast gridiron, of which the bars are represented by ‘Rows,’ to the number of one hundred and fifty-six. Repel the recollection of a Chester-row, a Paradise-row, or a Rotten-row. A Row is a long, narrow lane or alley, quite straight, or as nearly as may be, with houses on each side, both of which you can sometimes touch at once with the finger tips of each hand, by stretching out your arms to their full extent. Now and then the houses overhang, and even join above your head, converting the Row, so far, into a sort of tunnel or tubular passage. Many and many picturesque old bit of domestic architecture is to be hunted up among the Rows. In some Rows there is little more than a blank wall for the double boundary. In others, the houses retreat into tiny square courts, where washing and clear starching are done, and wonderful nasturtiums and scarlet runners are reared from green boxes, filled with that scarce commodity, vegetable mould. Most of the Rows are paved with pebbles from the Beach, and, strange to say, these narrow gangways are traversed by horses and carts which are built for this special service, and which have been the cause of serious misunderstanding among antiquaries, as to whether they were or were not modelled after the chariots of Roman invaders. Of course, if two carts were to meet in the middle of a Row, one of the two must either go back to the end again, or pass over the other one, like goats upon a single file ledge of a precipice. The straightness of the passage usually obviates this alternative. A few Rows are well paved throughout with flagstones.
The reader cannot fail to have observed the numerical diversity in the above quotations, as to the total number of the Rows. The discrepancy probably arose through a compositor, when engaged upon a Yarmouth publication, transposing two of the numerals, thus turning the number 145 to 154, and the error passing unobserved remained uncorrected; and succeeding writers, instead of drawing inspiration from the fountain-head—the Rows themselves, have complacently copied, and so perpetuated the blunder. This, however, does not explain the number given as 156.
Considerable allowances must be made for many of the statements given by the various writers, in consideration of the length of time that has since elapsed. The onward march of improvement has become so general, it has penetrated even into the recesses of these old-world thoroughfares. Although they remain, as in all probability they will continue to be, the picturesque, tumble-down Rows of Yarmouth, a “Paradise for painters,” as Punch described them, still the signs of the times are now apparent within their precincts. Pedestrians are no longer compelled to tread gingerly upon uncrushed “petrified kidneys,” when threading their way through them, but may proceed satisfactorily and pleasantly along a pathway of concrete or flagstone, and if disposed to enter them at night, he will discover that nearly all are now illuminated by gas. When preparation was being made for these improvements in the year 1884, an official measurement of eighty-one of the Rows was taken, and the total length of them was ascertained to be 8,372 yards, or rather more than 4¾ miles. The entire length of the 145 Rows exceeds seven miles. Within the eighty-one Rows which were measured, the number of the dwelling-houses was found to be 1,811.
The names of some of the Rows were sufficiently remarkable to justify Dickens in amusingly referring to them as “Jumber’s Row,” and “Mopus’s Row.” Known as the Rows were to succeeding generations all down the ages, by name only, it was no easy matter to wean the Yarmouthians from the method so familiar to them and their forefathers, of recognising each Row by its name. The change from name to number was adopted by the Corporation in the year 1804, and although a century of years have since nearly run their course, many of the old inhabitants still recognise a Row by name, in preference to its number. The writer has found it a common occurrence for persons, after long residence in Rows, to be utterly unable to state their numbers. A woman when asked the number of the Row she lived in, said, “57, but I don’t know whether it is the same number at both ends.” Quite recently, “Row 161” was given to the writer as a place of residence of an individual. A woman born in Row 21, in 1869, wrote in 1893, “I was born in Row 100, where some houses were pulled down for Sir E. Lacon’s Brewery.” An illustration of a similar character may be given from one of the Register Books at the Parish Church. In 1840, at their marriage, a couple were asked their place of residence, and it was given as “Row 171,” and they evidently stood uncorrected, as “Row 171” was recorded. Still further proofs may be culled from these Registers, showing the tenacity with which the old names were cherished. Most of the following designations have been obtained from entries which were made within the first four years of Her present Majesty’s reign:—
Angel Row
Almshouse Row
Adam the Barber’s Row
Buck Row