The first street we come to on leaving the Gate is St. John Street; but, the good old rule of “first come, first serve,” must for once be set aside, since we intend to reserve the locality for the close of the present chapter.
Just opposite to St. John Street, is Bank Place; the house at the top of which was long the residence of Richard Llwyd, the Bard of Snowdon, and the author of “Beaumaris Bay,” a zealous, amiable, and intelligent Welsh antiquary. The poet died here in 1835.
Moving away eastward, then, past the end of Frodsham Street, already noticed on our way from the Railway Station, we discern, upon our left, a long passage, leading up to the Commercial Hall; and, on the right, a heavy block of buildings, one hundred and sixty feet long by ninety-two feet wide, rejoicing in the name of the Union Hall. These Halls were erected, the former in 1815, and the latter in 1809, by the Lancashire and Yorkshire merchants, who used formerly to inundate the city with their wares during the continuance of the two great Chester Fairs, in October and July. When first built, these “marts of foreign commerce” were always thronged at the privileged season with both buyers and sellers; but the world is wiser than it was; and even the Cestrians have discovered that one of the worst things they can buy is “a pig in a poke;” and that their own tradesmen sell articles every whit as cheap and as good as did those itinerant pedlars.
Not far from the Union Hall is the old Tennis or Ball Court, where Penn the Quaker once preached to his admirers, and which was afterwards occupied as a Theatre, until the perversion of St. Nicholas’ Chapel (now the Music Hall) to the like use. Here the productions of “rare Ben Jonson,” and the “immortal Will,” together with the minor frivolities of Congreve, Cibber, and Vanbrugh (the latter of whom is claimed as a native of Chester), were doled forth to the patrons of “the legitimate drama.” Chester is now destitute of a Theatre; but whether it has suffered materially by the loss, shall be left, so far at least as we are concerned, an open question.
A little farther, upon the left hand, lies Queen Street; its higher or northern portion being anciently known as the Justing Croft. Beyond the mere name, history has bequeathed us no record of this spot; but, though England’s bard has tritely enough exclaimed—“What’s in a name?” there is something in this one of more than ordinary significance. It is clear that at one time this was the mimic field on which the youthful chivalry of Chester wielded the lance, battle-axe, and sword; that this was the proud arena where, after their return from the wars of Palestine and of France, the belted knights of Cheshire tried a friendly lance with each other, in the presence of their assembled sweethearts and dames; and here, at “tilt and tourney,” met the would-be champions of their county, the Calveleys, the Dones, the Egertons, and the Cholmondeleys, and, mayhap, too, the Grosvenors, the Warburtons, and the Leghs. We could weave—but we won’t, for our time is getting short—a page or two of romance about this once favourite haunt. Let us hurry away, then, first casting a glance at two Chapels in this street—opposition establishments, but near neighbours withal,—the Roman Catholic Chapel, lately transformed into a Cathedral; and the larger and much handsomer meeting-house of the Calvinists, or Independents.
Once again in Foregate Street, we are soon at the head of Love Lane; why so named is a mystery; at all events, its mission of love is now confined to the manufacture of tobacco-pipes. At its eastern corner is a handsome house, with spacious area in front, until lately the city residence of the Barnstons of Crewe Hill, a Cheshire family of high lineage and repute. In the area before this house, March 19, 1804, the colours were presented to the Loyal Cheshire Volunteers, by the lady of Colonel Barnston, commanding officer of the corps. The house is now converted into the Auction Mart of the Messrs. Churton, the knock of whose professional hammer vibrates at intervals through its noble rooms.
Onward again past Seller Street, and the Octagon Chapel, where the Reverend John Wesley once preached, we are not long arriving at a steep road upon our right hand, called Dee Lane, running down to the river side. Near the head of this lane stood an ancient Gateway, stretching right across the main street, bearing the name of The Bars. From a curious plan of the city in the reign of Elizabeth, this Gateway appears to have had a circular turret on either side; but no trace of these remained at the time of its demolition in 1770. From the Bars extended, to the left and right, the outer line of fortifications which encompassed the city during the period of the Siege.
Once clear of the Bars, we have passed into Boughton, having Russell, Steam-Mill, and Stevens Streets, all upon our left hand. Steam-Mill Street, anciently Horn Lane, derives its present name from the large Steam Corn-Mills of Messrs. Frost and Sons, occupying the whole of the northern portion of the street. This is a mammoth establishment, employing a large number of hands, and has been long and successfully carried on by the present proprietors. The premises were destroyed by fire in 1834. Close to these Mills flows the Canal, on the opposite side of which we have a prospect of another hive of industry, the Lead Works and Shot Tower of Messrs. Walker, Parker and Co., already noticed in our earlier rambles.
Returning to the main street, we soon arrive, through “poverty, hunger, and dirt,” at Hoole Lane, the corner of which is now embellished with a neat little structure, known as the Chester Ragged Schools, for the use of those tattered little specimens of humanity ever found about the streets of all populous towns.