Forget not the Dead, who have loved, who have left us,
Who bend o’er us now from their bright homes above;
But believe, never doubt, that the God who bereft us
Permits them to mingle with friends they still love.Repeat their fond words—all their noble deeds cherish—
Speak pleasantly of them who left us in tears;
From our lips their dear names other joys should not perish,
While time bears our feet through the valley of years.Yea, forget not the Dead, who are evermore nigh us,
Still floating sometimes round our dream-haunted bed;
In the loneliest hour, in the crowd they are by us!—
Forget not the Dead,—oh! forget not the Dead!
The Chester Cemetery, for such is the beautiful spot we are exploring, seems as if formed by nature for the repose of the dead—all is so still, so serenely still, within its halllowed sphere. Nature and Art have alike combined to produce here a retreat worthy of the dead, and yet full of beauty and allurement for the living; while on the lake below us
See how yon swans, with snowy pride elate,
Arch their high necks, and sail along in state;
In fine, the beautiful trees and shrubs, the serpentine walks, the rustic bridges, the isle-dotted lake, the ivied rock-work, the modest chapels, and, above all, the tombstones of chaste and mostly appropriate design which meet us at every turn—all point out the Chester Cemetery as a fitting refuge for all, who in serious mood would “commune with their own hearts, and be still.” But we must not longer linger here, save to cast a look towards the ancient city, the river, Castle, and the New and Old Bridges, which from the north side of the Cemetery present to the eye a varied and truly interesting panorama.
Opposite to the Cemetery, reached from the Grosvenor Road by a pretty little suspension bridge, is Curzon Park, the property of Earl Howe, and upon which some handsome, aristocratic villas have been erected. It is from Curzon Park whence that view of the city is obtained which figures as the frontispiece of this “Guide,” and certainly from no point is old Chester seen to greater advantage than from this elevated and commanding locality.
Continuing our course from the Cemetery, we come to what we who live in towns and travel only by rail, so seldom meet with—a turnpike-gate,—through which we see the Grosvenor Gateway, to be noticed more particularly hereafter. A road upon the left leads to Handbridge and Queen’s Park, and that upon the right to one of the most thriving suburbs of Chester, Hough Green, and Saltney. Now, we are not troubled with a superfluity of grey hairs, yet do we well remember Saltney when but two houses occupied the site of the present little town. There was nothing heard then of the Port and trade of Saltney! But since the cutting of the two great Railways which form a junction, though not an alliance, at this spot, Saltney has rapidly risen in importance and population. A large Ironworks and coal trade have been established, new streets have sprung up, yclept severally Cable Street, Curzon Street, Wood Street, &c., and the number of inhabitants is now computed at about 3000. The new Church, erected in 1854–5, comes scarcely within our province, standing just beyond the boundaries of the city, which is here separated only by a narrow lane from the Principality of Wales. Looking at the rapidity with which building is going on at Saltney, and at the causes which have induced it, we shall not go far wrong in predicting for this ‘child of the old city’ a long future of commercial health and prosperity.
Returning once more to Bridge Street, we must pause awhile at St. Michael’s Church, standing at the north-east angle of this street and Pepper Street. A Church existed here, in connexion with a Monastery of the same name, almost coëval with the Conquest. In the year 1178, John de Lacy, constable of Chester, whose ancestor Roger de Lacy had devised the Monastery of St. Michael to the Prior of Norton, gave a messuage adjoining this church to the Abbot of Stanlaw. Two years afterwards, viz., on Mid-lent Sunday 1180, this Church and monastery were, with a large portion of the city, destroyed by fire; and Bradshaw the poet-monk assures us, doubtless “on the best authority,” that if it had not been for the virtues attaching to the holy shrine of St. Werburgh, the whole city would have then “lain in dust and ashes!” He that hath faith enough to remove mountains, let him swallow this also—we are confessedly an infidel. The Monastery does not appear to have been rebuilt after the Great Fire; but of the Church frequent mention is made in old charters and deeds. It has been several times rebuilt—the last time in 1849–50—so that it is, at this moment, the newest ecclesiastical edifice in the city. Mr. James Harrison, the architect of the Savings Bank and Music Hall, furnished the plans and elevations for the present Church of St. Michael.
Perhaps the best view we can have of St. Michael’s Church is from a little way down Bridge Street, just opposite to that useful building, the New Lecture Hall. Chester has long stood in need of a room for such purposes, moderate in dimensions, and conveniently situate; and Dr. Norton, the proprietor of the new Lecture Hall, has laudably ministered to that want, by providing a public room admirably adapted, from its size and situation, for popular lectures and musical entertainments. Our illustration embraces a view both of the Lecture Hall and of St. Michael’s Church.
Just behind where we have been standing is a curious relic of the timber architecture of Chester—the Falcon Inn. A few yards higher up than the Falcon, the street was for nearly two centuries blocked up by a strange-looking timber building, erected by Randle Holme in 1655, called the Old Lamb Row. While this house was in being it was the greatest curiosity of its kind in the city; but in 1821, the decaying timbers suddenly parted from their bearings, and the entire pile fell in with a great crash, to the unspeakable relief of the pent-up thoroughfare, but to the great chagrin and regret of the antiquary.