Again we pass onwards, having on our left the higher wards of the Castle, Julius Cæsar’s Tower, and the lofty boundary wall of the new County Gaol. Cæsar’s Tower (so called) has of late years been converted into a powder magazine, and may, some day or other, make itself both heard and felt by the citizens, unless they procure the removal of the magazine to some more distant and fitting locality.
Still onwards, by the side of the Dee, and we approach the Old Dee Bridge and Mills, having on the opposite shore the suburb of Handbridge, called by the Welsh Treboeth, or burnt town, from its having been so often razed to the ground during their predatory incursions. Yonder is Edgar’s Field, so called from the palace of that Saxon monarch having been traditionally situate there. In this field is a projecting rock, partially excavated, still bearing the name of Edgar’s Cave; and the tradition is that, in 971, that monarch was rowed from thence to St. John’s Church by six petty kings or princes, in token of their subjection to his rule. At the entrance of the cave is a rude sculpture, supposed to represent Minerva, accompanied by her usual symbol, the owl.
Where we are now standing was, fifty years ago, an ancient postern, called the Shipgate, or Sheepgate, from which went a ford across the river into Handbridge. The gate itself, of Roman construction, on being taken down, was carefully preserved, and now ornaments the garden of the present town clerk, J. Finchett-Maddock, Esq., in Abbey Square.
A few steps further will bring us to the South or Bridge Gate, the last of the four principal Gates of the city. It is a bold and imposing structure, erected, in 1782, at the expense of the corporation, in place of the old and ponderous gateway which previously occupied its site. The old Gate is quoted in deeds as far back as the twelfth century, and appears to have been granted by the Norman Earl Randle and his Countess to one Poyns, their servant, for some meritorious but unrecorded service. From his successors it passed, through Philip le Clerc, to the families of Raby, Norris, and Troutbeck, until the honour of “custodian of the Bridge Gate” became vested at length in the Earls of Shrewsbury, who, in the seventeenth century, sold their rights to the Corporation.
Crossing over the Bridge Gate, we have now a better view of the Dee Mills, a massive pile of buildings, resting on the south-west end of the Old Bridge. The Dee Mills existed on this very spot shortly after the Norman Conquest, and were for centuries a source of immense revenue to their owners, the Earls. Edward the Black Prince, as Earl of Chester, granted them for life to Sir Howel-y-Fwyal, constable of Criccaeth Castle, for his gallant conduct at the Battle of Poictiers; since which time they have passed through successive owners to the Wrench family, who are the present possessors. The Mills have been thrice destroyed by fire.
The Dee Bridge is of great antiquity, having been erected in 1280 by the citizens, under a peremptory order to that effect from King Edward I. Previous to that date there had been a wooden bridge here, originating with that amazonian “edifier” of Chester, the Mercian Princess Ethelfleda; but that passage was continually subject to interruptions, both from the violence of the tides, and the restless zeal of the Welshmen,—hence the erection of the present Bridge. It consists at present of seven arches of irregular size, but is said to have originally boasted of two or three more, now built up. It was widened in 1826, by the addition of a projecting footpath, seven feet wide, which has somewhat destroyed its antiquated appearance from this point of view.
The Causeway, or weir, on this side the Bridge, is recorded to have been first built by Hugh Lupus, the Conqueror’s nephew, probably about the time of the foundation of the Dee Mills. It stemmed the tide of the Dee, and of all opposition, until the period of the Commonwealth, when we find an order of parliament commanding the destruction of both Causeway and Mills; but the puritanical order appears to have been derisively set at nought; at all events, it was never carried out. An American author, writing upon this topic, facetiously remarks:—“The dam was built, I don’t know when. The Puritans, they say, tried to destroy it—for its bad name, perhaps—but could not, because, like a duck, it kept under a high flood of water, until the Cavaliers, making a rush to save it, spiked their guns.”
Wending our way to the eastward, we have before us a long and interesting stretch of the meandering Dee, crossed at some distance away by a chaste, yet gossamer-looking bridge, erected in 1852, by Enoch Gerrard, Esq., the projector and proprietor of Queen’s Park, that beautiful range of building land on the opposite side of the river. Those steps on the right, leading down to the river side, are usually known as the Recorder’s Steps, from their having been erected in 1700, for the accommodation of Roger Comberbach, Esq., then Recorder of Chester.
The Walls here run at a great height above the roadway, until we turn quick round to the northward, at a lofty flight of steps, called the Wishing Steps. And why the Wishing Steps, you ask? Listen, and you shall hear. There’s a small bit of “folk lore” bound up with these Steps, and we never pass by them without recalling to mind our boyhood’s attempts to master the difficulty. We were always told when a child, and we heartily believe it as a man, that whosoever shall stand at the foot of these steps, and wish for any mundane blessing—be it the gold of Ophir, aye, or even Paradise itself—and (mind this!) run up to the head, down to the bottom, and up again to the top of these steps, without taking breath, shall have his fondest wish fulfilled, though it were to the half of the kingdom! The secret is, that no one could possibly accomplish the feat without taking breath some half dozen times.
From the top of the Wishing Steps we have a beautiful prospect of the banks of the Dee, and of the south-eastern environs of the city. From an altitude of some sixty feet, we see beneath us the stream of Deva in all but repose, for above the Causeway the River assumes almost the smoothness of a lake. The iron Suspension Bridge, which crosses it midway, and unites the city with its handsome suburb, Queen’s Park, forms a pretty object in the landscape. Though of such spider-like construction, its capabilities and strength have been fully tested. Mr. Dredge, upon whose patent principle the bridge was erected, thus describes it:—“The Queen’s Park Bridge is 262 feet span, and 417 long, resting upon massive block masonry (about 3000 cubical feet), which is all below the surface as foundation, and upon it, on each side of the river, is a cluster of four cast-iron pillars, about 33 feet high. The bridge is 23 feet above the ordinary level of the river, and altogether it consists of about 50 tons of iron, the whole of which was wrought on the ground, and the bridge finished in about three months. Its cost was 850l.” When Mr. Gerrard first projected the Queen’s Park, he saw at once the necessity of providing a shorter and better pathway to the city than the old route through Handbridge, and the erection of Queen’s Park Suspension Bridge was therefore the starting point of his building operations. Nor has the result belied his confident anticipations of the popularity of the Park; for what was, but a year or two ago, a modest agricultural farm, is now fast developing into an important and delightful suburb. In fact, the salubrity of the air, and the high commanding situation of Queen’s Park, together with its beautiful river scenery, and its close proximity to the city, combine to render it peculiarly suitable for villa residences.