You will perceive that there is a covered Row also on the other side of this street, similar in character, though not in adornment, to the one we have just been noticing. This is popularly known as the Pepper Alley Row, a quaint but gloomy looking region, rendered still more so by the projecting block of buildings displayed in our engraving. Here are the well known drapery establishments of Messrs. Oakes, and Ambrose Williams, and that curious old zigzag erection, occupied by Mr. Hill, Chester’s enterprising boot-maker: behind which premises Pepper Alley Row “worms its darksome way” into Northgate Street. In this Row are the rooms of the Church of England Educational Institute, and the Chester Excise Office.
On the ground floor of Messrs. Prichard and Dodd’s carpet warehouse in Eastgate Street, there is a curious and interesting old crypt, erected, it is supposed, in the eighth century, an illustration of which will be found in our advertising sheet.
We are now fairly arrived at the High Cross, and close to the spot where that sacred emblem of the faith in old time stood. This ancient landmark, which was of stone, and elaborately carved, had for centuries ornamented this part of the city, and was a relic much and deservedly prized by the citizens. The Puritans, however, on obtaining possession of the city in 1646, with their characteristic abhorrence of the beautiful, and in direct breach of the articles of surrender, demolished this “fayre crosse.” “No cross, no crown” was, in a perverted sense, the motto of these fanatics, whose “organs of destructiveness” must, beyond doubt, have been largely developed. Some fragments of the Cross were picked up at the time, and hidden within the porch of St. Peter’s Church hard by, where a century or so afterwards they were discovered, and now ornament the grounds of Netherlegh House, near this city.
Near the Cross was the Conduit, to which water was of old brought in pipes to this city from St. Giles’ Well in Boughton, and this conduit it was that, according to ancient records, was made to “run with wine” on all public and festive occasions. Here also, upon the south side of St. Peter’s Church, was the Penthouse or Pentice of the city, where the mayor and magistrates of the old regime sat to administer justice with the one hand, and feed on turtle with the other. A lean alderman was as great a curiosity in those days, as a fat parish pauper would be deemed in the present. The Pentice, which, with its accessories the Stocks and the Pillory, had too long obstructed this quarter of the city, was pulled down in 1803, and its jurisdiction removed to a more commodious room in the north end of the Exchange.
This locality, crowded as it must have been before the removal of these obstructions, was also annually the scene of the Corporation Bullbait, thus vividly described by Cowdroy, a local scribe of the last century: “The Cross is famous for being the annual scene of exhibition of that polite play called a bull-bait; where four or five of these horned heroes are attended by several hundred lovers of that rational amusement. Till within a few years the dramatis personæ of this elegant scene included even magistracy itself, the mayor and corporation attending in their official habiliments, at the Pentice windows, not only to countenance the diversions of the ring, but to participate in a sight of its enjoyments. A proclamation was also made by the crier of the court, with all the gravity and solemnity of an oration before a Romish sacrifice; the elegant composition of which runs thus, ‘Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! If any man stands within twenty yards of the bull-ring, let him take—what comes.’ After which followed the usual public ejaculations, for the safety of the king, and the mayor of the city;” when the beauties of the scene commenced, and the dogs immediately fell to. Here a prayer for his worship was not unseasonable, as even the ermined cloak was no security against the carcases of dead animals, with which spectators, without distinction, were occasionally saluted. In many ancient boroughs a law formerly prevailed, that no bulls should be slaughtered for food without having been first thus baited by dogs. They loved tender beefsteaks in those days!
This barbarous recreation of a bygone age has long since been put down by the strong arm of the law, and we can now from the very spot study the character of yonder Row, which commanded in those days so near a view of the revolting spectacle.
The ancient and the modern in domestic architecture here stand forth in curious juxtaposition. To the left rests a building of venerable mien, the builder of which flourished probably in the sixteenth century, when Harry the Eighth or Elizabeth swayed the sceptre of England, and when wood and plaster was the chief ingredient in houses of this description.
In the centre of our view, looking affably down on its two-gabled neighbour, is a bold and substantial building of white freestone, erected in 1837, on the site of an older and more picturesque house. This is the business retreat of our publisher, and by the same token the oldest book establishment in the city. Here are procurable, in almost endless variety, Guides to Chester and North Wales, local prints, books of views, &c. to suit every imaginable taste and requirement. Perhaps no city in the empire has been so fully and faithfully illustrated as Chester,—Prout, Cuitt, Pickering, Sumners, and others equally celebrated in the walks of art, have plied their pencils in its honour, while the genius of the engraver and the enterprise of the publisher have given permanence to their works.