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IX.
THE TOWER OF ST. GILES’S CHURCH, And some things in relation thereto. ¹⁶

By “relation thereto” I mean that my paper will first speak of myself – my personality and my belongings – and then recall to your memory a few of those changes and events of interest which have taken place in my neighbourhood and surroundings.

Perhaps I ought to apologize for bringing before such a learned branch of the Church of England Young Men’s Society, as is this its Literary Class, so many familiar facts and events as are here alluded to. But nevertheless, I have thought that there might be some considerable interest in grouping and recalling to our minds a few such items connected with one city centre, and especially as they might be supposed to be noted by such an eyewitness as I have suggested myself to be. A knowledge of our city, of its specialities, its changes, and developments, is always good mental store. And although it might be said – are not many of these things to be found recorded in the City Archives, and in the volumes of City History? yet almost certainly many of the members of this class will not have studied these. And therefore, it may fairly be hoped that this little paper may stimulate the historical bump of some of the brains here present, and arouse in them a desire to further study such archæological facts and local histories.

And here let me quote some lines of the Suffolk poet, Bernard Barton, in reference to the survey or study of past events or history. He says: —

 
“No useless, or ignoble toil,
To him who in ‘the past’ delights,
Seems it – from dark Oblivion’s spoil
To cull whate’er our taste invites,
Of by-gone legends, parted rites,
In earlier days believ’d as true;
And bid our old ‘Historic Sites’
Peopled afresh, to charm anew.
 
 
“That is no true Philosophy
Which does not love at times to trace,
With glowing heart and moisten’d eye,
Time honoured haunts, whose chiefest grace
Is to have been their dwelling-place
Whose names in history’s page are shrined,
Whose memories time can ne’er erase
From many a fond admiring mind.”
 

Well – my name and title is

The Tower of St. Giles’s Church, and as such I shall speak of some of the many things which I have seen

As you may suppose, from the prominent position which I – the Tower – have for so many centuries occupied in this old city of ours, I have long since ceased to suffer from the undue modesty which so often accompanies equally deserving but less conspicuous merit. I can only hope that you will agree with my reasons for anticipating from you some of that appreciation and interest which I certainly take in myself. And I propose to introduce my subject in the novel way of speaking of myself as personal, and as having noted, during my long life, various matters to which I shall call your attention.

As an introduction, I am proud to think that I need only say, once again, that I am the Tower of St. Giles’s Church, Norwich. And surely there cannot be many of our citizens who are in the habit of passing up our broad street, St. Giles’s (the lower Newport as it used to be called), who have not been struck with the fine proportions of my structure, standing as I do at the head of this fine thoroughfare, and looking and being an object of admiration for my beauty and my striking position. Many are the beautiful views which I present to the passer-by in the varying lights of the day, but my beauty and grandeur are, I think, seen best of all, when in the evening the sun is setting behind me in the west, or the moon with her paler light throws down along the length of the main street of St. Giles, those shadows, which – produced by my intervening tower – are so well worthy of the admiration of all who have eyes to see, and minds to appreciate, the glory of evening views.¹⁷

Let me say here in passing that Saint Giles, the saint after whom I am named, appears to have lived in France; and history relates that he was adopted as the typical Patron of the crippled portion of humanity from his being himself lame, and from his having been said to have effected a miraculous cure of a sick beggar. As such Patron, parishes which, like mine, were located on the outskirts of towns, have frequently been given the name of St. Giles, as having had the duty, in the olden time from their position, of contributing to the needs of passing wayfarers, and of those requiring Christian charity. And thus, in Norwich, not only was my own parish named after this saint, but the so-called “Old Man’s Hospital,” in Bishopgate Street, at the other end of the city, was also formerly called St. Giles’s Hospital.

Well, I am the Tower of St. Giles’s Church, and I have stood in my present position for at least five hundred years, having been built (or rather rebuilt) in the time of King Richard the Second (who ceased to reign in 1399). I am twenty-six feet square, and I am also one of the tallest church towers in Norwich. And not only so, but I stand in one of the most conspicuous positions in the city, on the top of St. Giles’s Hill. I am a square Tower, built like the adjoining Church, largely of flint stone, nearly 120 feet high, battlemented at the top, and having also a small cupola or bell-cup in the centre of my roof, with a conspicuous weather-cock above this. In earlier times, in consequence of my height and conspicuous position, I was used as a Beacon-tower, i. e. a pail containing fuel was hung at one of my corners, ready to be lighted as a danger signal in case of invasion or other serious emergency. Such a beacon, as you may know, was often called a “Cresset,” from the French “Croisette,” which was a pail with a cross on its top.

I am proud of my public spirit and loyalty, for on royal and other special occasions, I raise on my summit a tall flag-staff, and float from it a large and handsome flag. In this, I am sorry to say, I have too few imitators or companions amongst our church towers, perhaps for the reason that even such loyalty as this is expensive, and costs, I am told, some few shillings for each such display. Amongst my various public uses, you have probably all seen soldiers from the barracks on my roof practising flag-drill in connection with others in Chapel Field.

I have said that I am largely built of flint stone, which is of a very enduring nature. In consequence I am thankful to say that I have a very excellent constitution, and have stood the wear and tear of a long life without requiring much fortifying or repairing. I can only venture to hazard the bold suggestion that my excellent health may also, in some mysterious way, have been due to the near presence of so many Norwich doctors, residing as they have so largely done in the neighbouring Bethel and St. Giles’s Streets!! At any rate, for a long time past I had scarcely wanted professional assistance, until about two years ago, when two of my windows (or eyes, as I call them) needed technical help and repair.

Speaking of flint for building, we all know that some of the finest flint work in the kingdom is to be seen in this city, notably in St. Miles’s Church, and in a wall in Bridewell Alley. My flint work is inferior to these, but still handsomely faced. No doubt the large use of flint stone in building our Norwich churches was due to the abundant supply of this material which has existed in the neighbourhood. And with regard to myself it may well have been that my flints, or some of them, may have been extracted from the ancient chalk excavations which until lately existed just beyond St. Giles’s Gates. Mr. Walter Rye, as you perhaps know, has also suggested that flints from these caves may have been used in the building of both the Cathedral and the Norwich Castle.

As curiously illustrating local specialities, one of my parishioners has told me that when travelling some few years ago in Cornwall, where granite and other hard rocks prevail, but no gravel or flints, he asked one of the residents whom he met, if she knew of flint stones, to which she replied, “Oh! yes, I know flints, I have seen one in the Museum at Torquay.” I much fear that not even one flint is to be seen in our grand Museum on the Castle Hill!

Whilst on the subject of myself (the Tower), I may mention the Clock, which has so long existed on my eastern face, and which, judging from the constant reference made to it by the passing throngs, is an undoubted public boon. To the parish it is a source of some expense.

This Clock was restored and re-coloured at the general restoration of the Church in 1865–6, when the figure of Old Time, holding a scythe in his hand (as many of us will remember), was removed. The Clock face and Clock hands do not look to the passer-by to be very large; but I find, on measurement, that the diameter of the Clock face is 10 ft., that the Roman letter numbers on it measure 1½ ft., that the length of the large hand is 6 ft. 5½ in., with a weight of 21 lbs., and that of the small hand 3 ft. 4 in., with a weight of 8 lbs. My Clock has belonging to it a special Clock Bell.

Then, as to my contents. As this is an Autobiography, and as all Autobiographers are necessarily egotistical, you must allow me to dwell a few minutes more upon my personal specialities. And first, as to my Peal of Bells, eight in number, which are naturally of great interest to myself, and which hold a high place among the various peals of Norwich. These, according to the high authority of the late Mr. L’Estrange, were placed in me between the years 1593, or earlier, and 1738, and they were renovated and restored in 1870, at the expense of Messrs. Browne, Bridgman, and Firth, parishioners of St. Giles. (One of these bells is what is called a Gabriel Bell – the “Angel Gabriel brought the good tidings to the Virgin Mary.”) And think for a moment what phases of life these bells have taken part in during all these hundreds of years. I find that since 1538, when our parish registers begin, some 2,524 entries of marriage have been made in them. And it is reasonable to suppose that at a fair proportion of these, especially in earlier times, my bells have rung out their merry chimes, and in their special language have wished all joy and happiness to the newly wedded pairs. You remember how Byron speaks of this: “And all went merry as a marriage bell.”

On the other hand, during the same period, or, rather, up to 1856, when interments in the Churchyard ceased by Act of Parliament, i. e. in 318 years, nearly ten thousand (9,770, as roughly counted) entries of burials here are made in the parish register books. And it is almost certain that one of my bells has announced first the fact of the death, and then that of the mournful ceremony of interment, in each of these cases. Just think, as I do, of all these ten thousand dead lying at my foot, waiting, as Baring Gould has so beautifully said, for the “Resurrection morning,” when “soul and body meet again.” Such an accumulation of mortal remains in so limited a space may well arouse much and solemn reflection. How well a Suffolk poet reverently describes such a disused graveyard as mine now is, where he says: —

 
“The gathered ashes of long centuries rest;
A few white tombstones and a few dim-gray,
Mark names that have not yet quite passed away.”
 

Nor can I fail to quote to you Gray’s beautiful words, so applicable to such a disused churchyard: —

 
“Hark! how the sacred calm, that breathes around,
Bids every fierce tumultuous passion cease,
In still small accents whispering from the ground,
A grateful earnest of eternal peace.”
 

The graveyard of St. Giles, which lies beneath and around me, is, as I have already said, no longer used for burials. It is quite full and crowded with graves and many memorial tombstones. The names upon these, as far as legible, are fully and completely given in the book which has been published by a parishioner of mine,¹⁸ upon the “Parish of St. Giles.”

It is historically interesting to know that the burial registers, by the increased number of interments in some of the long past years, point unmistakably to the prevalence in Norwich at those times of the dread Pestilence or Plague, which is recorded as having ravaged the city from time to time. Thus, in 1603, no less than 112 persons were buried here; and in 1666, some 79 – both of these “Plague years” – instead of a normal average of twenty or thirty. As you may suppose, I (the Tower) shared acutely in the distress which then reigned in the city, intensified as it was to me by the fact of three or four burials occasionally taking place here in the same day. In some other years, an increase of burials may probably have arisen from this place of mortal rest having been a favourite one, and, therefore, selected for the interment of some who had not been resident in the parish. This was certainly so in the fifty years preceding the closure of the churchyard, when fifty, sixty, or seventy were often annually interred here.

But to return to my bells. The perpetuation of the old custom of ringing each night what is called the Curfew Bell in my Tower is well known to us all. This Curfew ringing is now an anachronism, but it doubtless was a great boon at the time of its foundation, seeing that so many legacies were left in various places, as here, for the purpose of having a “Curfew” rung each night in perpetuity.

My Curfew Bell, instituted and endowed in 1457, by Mr. John Colston, and who was buried in St. Giles’s Church, has now rung continuously for some 450 years. And although some people may think this evening tolling of a bell for a quarter of an hour a nuisance, it has in this particular case this merit, that it acts, or has done, as a sort of daily almanac, seeing that the day of the month is told at the end of the quarter of an hour’s ringing, each evening, by a number of strokes on a different bell, corresponding to the day of the month.

The name “Curfew,” you doubtless know to be derived from the French Couvre-feu, or cover fire. And also that the custom in olden times of a public ringing of a bell, or sounding a horn, for the putting out of fires and retiring into houses for the night, arose from the out-door dangers of those less civilised times, and from the inflammable nature of many of the wooden and thatched houses then existing. One such fire in Norwich (in 1507) is said to have destroyed seven hundred houses, including many in my own parish. Who does not know Gray’s lines on this Curfew custom?

 
“The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lea;
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.”
 

And we doubtless also remember Longfellow’s beautiful verses on this old custom: —

 
“Solemnly, mournfully,
Dealing its dole,
The Curfew Bell
Is beginning to toll.
 
 
“Cover the embers,
And put out the light;
Toil comes with the morning,
And rest with the night.
 
 
“Dark grow the windows,
And quenched is the fire;
Sound fades into silence;
All footsteps retire.
 
 
“No voice in the chambers,
No sound in the hall;
Sleep and oblivion
Reign over all!”
 

With all this, and what I have now said, I think I may claim that I – the Tower – have fully discharged the general duty of public usefulness, and am a great public benefactor. My beacon pail is no longer required; but by my weather-cock I tell the direction of the wind; by my clock I tell the time of day; and by the final strokes of my curfew bell at night, I act as an almanac, and tell the day of the month – for the benefit not only of my neighbours, but to the great multitude of the passers-by.¹⁹ And let it not be forgotten that all this implies not only the discharge of public duty, but also the expenditure of money, necessary to keep the various arrangements for these in correct and working order – money which has to be provided by the parish of St. Giles.

Opinions as to the desirability of the ringing of the Church Bells in towns differ, as we know, considerably. And every now and then we read a letter in a newspaper in condemnation of them. But I believe that those who think thus are in a very small minority. I have said how well they emphasize such occasions as weddings, and funerals. And I think they most appropriately add to the expression of public rejoicing on such occasions as the election of a new Mayor, or a royal visit, or a royal anniversary – or especially on the eve of such a great Christian festival as Christmas or Easter. But beyond all this, I (the Tower) consider that they are in the best sense public music, and that when well rung this music is of a very high order indeed. Who does not recognise the grandeur of the great twelve-bell peal of St. Peter Mancroft, as rung by the skilled ringers of that church, or the solemnity imparted to a public mourning by the muffled peal occasionally rung, on the departure from this world of some great local or national citizen?

In country villages I know that the possession of a good peal of church bells is usually very highly appreciated, and the practice of the ringing cannot be otherwise than an excellent musical training for the young men of the parish.

It is curious how little regard Jackdaws pay to the noise of clanging bells. In my tower, as elsewhere, they habitually build their nests, and rear their young, apparently quite free from alarm at the noise. From their constant selection of church towers as breeding places, may we not suppose that these birds have ears for music, or may even practice singing amongst their family parties, to the accompanying chimes?

I have windows on all four of my sides, and until lately (1866), when the Church was so thoroughly restored, I had an eye in my lower eastern portion which enabled me to view the changes which have taken place in the interior of the Church. Long, long ago, I noted the dilapidation of the Chancel, and its final demolition and removal (in 1581), on a bargain being made by which the parish was allowed to take all the remaining lead, stone, and other materials (for some parochial charity) belonging to it, on condition that the Dean and Chapter were no longer to be held liable for its repair. This Chancel I had the pleasure of seeing rebuilt in 1866, mainly through the beneficence of Rev. Canon Ripley, then incumbent of the vicarage, when also the Church was finely restored, and reseated.

You are aware that the years 1903–4 represent the five-hundredth anniversary of the giving of a Mayor to the City of Norwich. Several St. Giles’s inhabitants have held this important office, as well as that of Sheriff, during all those centuries, but I will only specially mention the names of Richard Purdaunce and of Robert Baxter, who were very early Mayors, in 1420 and 1424 respectively, and who were interred in the nave of this Church, with brasses over their tombs. These still remain, and are of considerable interest as showing the costumes of the period.

And now as to the parish of St. Giles itself, in which I stand, I cannot but recall with satisfaction the large number of residents who have been in their day most important and influential citizens in various departments of life. As public men I will only mention the names of a few such departed neighbours whose careers and public services I have watched. Let us only recall the names (given alphabetically) in public life of such examples as Baxter, Beevor, Bolingbroke, Cadge, Chapman, Churchman, Cole, Crosse, Day, Foster, Herring, Kinghorn, Johnson, Lubbock, Offley, Purdaunce, Ranking, Rigby, Suffield, Taylor, Wilkins; or as ornaments of the literary and artistic world, such names as Brand, Blomefield, Borrow, Crossgrove, Charlotte Elizabeth, Daniel, Ninham – and now we may add that of Bateman. This, you will agree with me, is a goodly list, and marks out St. Giles’s parish as having been one of the most important residential districts in the city, and as having largely contributed to its welfare and general reputation. And in this regard we may well regret that so many of the fine parish residences have been or are being absorbed by public companies or other bodies; and that in consequence, the most actively important men of the city are gradually being driven to other and more distant localities. And we may even note here how the neighbouring and almost historical old “Norfolk Hotel” has been swept away, and its site occupied by a modern variety theatre.

Further, as a sign of the times, I may mention to you a spot in St. Giles’s Street, situated behind “Mortimer’s Hotel,” which was long known as “Mack’s Yard.” Mr. Mack was for a long period the enterprising proprietor of some carrier waggons, which made a weekly journey to and from London, carrying parcels and goods. This was in the days when the stage coaches to London occupied two days in the journey; and when the starting of these coaches, as well as of Mack’s waggons, was an interesting incident of Norwich life.

So much for my immediate personal relations. Let me now look a little further around and beyond me.

No doubt, almost everyone present this evening, when crossing Mousehold Park, or when passing along the roads on the outskirts of the city, will have noted how I – the Tower – stand out more prominently than any other object than the Castle or the Cathedral spire. And, on the other hand, those of our younger citizens who may have ascended to my summit, can bear testimony to the wide and expanded views from it of the surrounding country. In fact, I command a view, not only of much of the city, but also of the neighbourhood for many miles around. And this commanding position has enabled me to note most of those great changes, and improvements, which have taken place – by slow degrees and with many fluctuations – in the city generally. And, of course, I have keenly felt the change in my own position which the recent spread of the city all around me has produced. Not so very long ago I was situated in its very outskirts, and very close to the boundary City Walls. Now, I am almost in the heart of Norwich, and from my summit I can see the lines of houses extending a mile or more beyond me, and, I fear, detracting by their extent from the conspicuous dignity of the position which I had so long enjoyed.

Of the many more distant but important Norwich events of the past centuries, which from my lofty position I have been enabled to witness, I will only mention two or three which have specially impressed me, thus: —

In King Edward VI.’s reign, I was able to note many of the incidents connected with Kett’s Rebellion.

A little later, I saw the reflection of the fires at the Lollard’s pit, when Bilney and others were there burnt for their religious opinions.

I saw the processions attending the visits to Norwich of Queen Elizabeth, and of King Charles II. And you will remember that it was on this latter occasion that our distinguished citizen, Sir Thomas Browne, to whom we have so recently erected a statue, received the honour of Knighthood from his Sovereign.

Then again, I was cognizant of the blowing down of the Cathedral spire, during a great storm, in 1601; and of the spire of the St. Andrew’s Hall tower.

And, shall I say, with how much regret in quite later times, I witnessed the riotous and disgraceful scenes which took place at some of the Parliamentary elections held in Norwich – followed, as we know, by the exciting but not too pleasant “Chairing” of the elected candidates.

In my more immediate neighbourhood I have watched the foundation (in 1714) and the subsequent career of that beautiful example of Christian charity, the well-known Bethel Hospital for the poorer class of insane patients. We all know that in those earlier times, simply to remove from the general community and to house those suffering from mental derangement, was all that was known to be able to be done for those thus afflicted. But I have been charmed to note from my window-eyes how greatly their treatment has been improved in latter times, and to watch with pathetic interest the great changes which have been made, and are still continually being made, for the comfort and recreation and general welfare of the patients in this beneficent institution.²⁰

Very numerous and historically important are the changes and advances and improvements which have taken place in our city during the last 150 years, and which I have witnessed from my lofty summit.

In 1770, I saw the first Norfolk and Norwich Hospital built, and I have seen the old building replaced (in 1879–1881) by a larger and handsomer structure.

In 1792, I saw our St. Giles’s Gate, along with many others, taken down and removed; whilst, in 1867, I saw much of the neighbouring City Wall demolished, only a small piece of it being left in the Chapel Field Road, and in the adjacent “Duck Lane.”

You will remember that this defensive wall was built around the city between the years 1294 and 1319, and was broken down between the St. Stephen’s and St. Giles’s Gates by Earl Warwick’s army, in the time of Kett’s Rebellion.

Then I have seen numerous churches and chapels, factories, and other large buildings, arise in various parts of the city – these latter including the Norwich Union Workhouse, the Jenny Lind Infirmary, and (in the far distance) the Hellesdon Asylum.

I have also witnessed the laying-out of the new Norwich Cemetery, and its more recent enlargement. And at my very foot I have noted the erection of our Volunteer Drill Hall, and the removal of the old City Gaol. The closure of this latter, and of the Castle as a prison, and their replacement by a single model prison on Mousehold Hill, marking the advances of the times and the progressive development of political humanity.

Of the grand Castle Museum, which is in my full view, I need say nothing. Its influence in spreading knowledge, and in developing the higher and better faculties of the mind, are obvious to all. I am pleased to learn of the interest taken in it by the public, as shown by the visiting of it by the more than 100,000 persons who annually resort to it.

If I do not weary you, I would now like to claim your attention for a very few minutes to what may fairly be termed my “Home Circle,” that is, to the events which I have witnessed immediately around me in recent times. Several of these have been closely connected with the neighbouring “Chapel Field,” formerly a real and open field, but now a charming recreation garden, and one of the beauty spots of our city, with the present handsome palisading around it, erected in 1866. The avenues of trees which adorn this field are, or were, one of its great features.

And it is worth noting that Norwich history relates that the main west avenue was planted in 1746 by Sir Thomas Churchman, then a resident in St. Giles’s parish and an important citizen. The ordinary age of elm trees is (I believe) not greatly more than a century and a-half, and consequently some of these trees have decayed in their branches or trunks. But until a few months ago a long row of the elms towered up to their eighty or ninety feet of height, in great beauty and apparent vigour. I need not say with what pain I looked down upon the process of lopping and topping which was carried out upon these, or how I grieved over such a dire necessity for this operation as was alleged to exist.

One other example of tree grandeur existed until the other day in the northern avenue, namely, a splendid specimen of the Aspen Poplar, towering nearly one hundred feet high, and an object of extreme beauty to all who could appreciate such arboreal grandeur. Even so long ago as 1841 this tree was figured by Grigor in his work on “The Remarkable Trees of Norfolk,” as a fine example of this poplar. And we may well feel how the further sixty-three years of its life had added to its size, its dignity, and its grandeur. I greatly regret that since the late great gale it has been thought necessary to remove several of its upper branches, and so destroy all its grandeur. But the old line, “Woodman, spare that tree” for the greatest possible length of time was, I hope, fully in the minds of those who presided over its fate.

The splendid Horse-Chestnut tree near the centre of the field is familiar to us all, and I have watched its growth and circular uniformity with pleasure and interest.

This Chapel Field, as you may know, takes it name from a Chapel of St. Mary, which formerly existed on the site of the present Theatre and High School buildings. At that time the ground was really an open field; and it seems to have been acquired by the Corporation in the sixteenth century.

Probably few, and perhaps none, of those present in this room, can remember as I do the big water reservoir of the proprietors of the Norwich Water Works of that date, which formerly existed in Chapel Field, near its centre, on ground leased by them from the Corporation. This reservoir was large, nearly three hundred yards in circumference, and had on its north side a tower, into which water was forced to gain height for supplying the higher portions of the city. It remained here from 1792 until 1852, just sixty years, when the lease of the ground was surrendered, the works demolished, and the new and enlarged reservoirs of the present Norwich Water Works Company, at Lakenham, were substituted.

I may mention here a rumour which reached me, and which I have no doubt was true, that in April, 1852, the Corporation of Norwich proposed to place the statue of Lord Nelson, which had just then been executed for Norwich, “on an elegant fountain pedestal in the centre of this reservoir,” which was then about to be disused.²¹

I have, of course, noted many public events which have taken place in the Chapel Field – martial, agricultural, and otherwise. But naturally, a great impression has been made upon me by observing the historical visits of their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales (now our gracious King and Queen) in 1866 and 1884, on both which occasions they entered Norwich by St. Giles’s Gates. The visit of 1866 was, as you will remember, the first they had paid to Norwich, and they were then entertained by Lord and Lady Stafford, at Costessey Hall. The royal party then included the Queen of Denmark (mother of the Princess), and the Duke of Edinburgh; and the procession entered our street under a triumphal arch erected on the site of the old St. Giles’s Gate. They then attended a morning concert of the Musical Festival then being held; and afterwards returned to Chapel Field, where the Prince and Princess each planted a “Wellingtonia” tree, and afterwards formally opened the new Drill Hall.