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. {101}

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, {106} 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. {108} 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. {113}

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. {117}

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_.

In 1884 they again attended our Musical Festival, and entered and left

the city by St. Giles’s Street.

On both these occasions I noted with great pleasure the large crowds of

citizens who lined the route of the processions, and the enthusiastic

manner in which they welcomed our royal visitors.

All will remember the recent visit of T.R.H. the Duke and Duchess of York

(now the Prince and Princess of Wales), when they came to open our new

Castle Museum. But my views of the royal procession were from my

position unfortunately considerably limited. I am glad, however, to know

that one of my parishioners was Mayor of Norwich, and as such had the

honour to receive and entertain the distinguished party.

I—the Tower—have several eyes, but no proper ears, only vibratory

sensations, and consequently can only hear indistinctly the sweet sounds

of the various bands and singers that now delight so many thousands of

Norwich citizens during the summer season in Chapel Field. But that

these musical entertainments are appreciated, I can _see_ by the large

numbers of persons who attend the concerts and listen to the music

provided for them. It is not to be doubted that these frequent musical

treats constitute a veritable branch of mental education.

In the city generally, I have during the last half century noted the

opening of several parks and public recreation grounds, and I have

watched with pleasure the gradually increasing numbers of citizens, old

and young, who avail themselves of the opportunities which these afford

for obtaining fresher air, exercise, health, and vitality. Amongst

these, you may be sure of the special and daily delight I take in

watching the games and gymnastics of the children, in the corner of

Chapel Field just below me, which has been allotted to them, and which

was so kindly fitted up for them by the late Mr. Henry Birkbeck.

I will only further say, of the many vast changes and items of social

progress in latter years, that I have seen with wonder and astonishment

the advent of steam carriages, and the opening in Norwich of three

railway stations, receiving trains, some of which have travelled more

than fifty miles an hour. Also that as an illuminant, I was long

familiar only with the use of oil, shedding its feeble light, this being

superseded by the gas derived from coal. But, quite recently, I have

opened my eyes to their widest to observe the lighting of our windows and

streets with electric light, and the working of tram carriages upon rails

through our main streets (including my own street of St. Giles) by means

of the electric current.

Norwich generally, like other cities and towns, has in the centuries

marched along the line of steady and continuous developments. Such a

brief mention as I have made of some of these is all that can now be

given. To give a larger _local_ history of these latter eventful times

would occupy us too long, and would not only be tedious to such an

audience as this, but would be beyond my present purpose. I shall be

more than satisfied if, by the little I have said, I have shown how much

of interest there is in the study of even one locality in an ancient city

like Norwich, and in recalling some of the half-forgotten facts connected

more or less intimately with it; and if, as a secondary result, it should

create, or revive, in the members of this literary class a wish to

include amongst its contributed papers and subjects for future

consideration and discussion, that branch of literature which is included

under the name of local Archæology. For we must not forget that past

history includes the study, not only of work done and changes executed,

but also a consideration of the men, the human minds, through whose

agency this work and the resulting changes were carried out. And I trust

that we shall all agree with Dr. Johnson that “Whatever makes the past,

the distant, or the future, predominate over the present, advances us in

the dignity of human beings.”

And I would venture here to quote the following from a late learned

writer on Norwich (Mr. Mark Knights), who has said: “Wonderful is the

amount of thought enveloped in the buildings and history of Norwich.

Would that every citizen had the power to evoke from the monuments of the

past the spirit which gave them form, that they might read their story.”

Let me conclude by quoting the following opinion from the well-known

pages of “Gilbert White of Selborne,” with reference to such a local and

parochial history as I have ventured to place before you this evening.

This great authority expresses very strongly the view that “stationary

men should pay attention to the districts in which they reside, and

should publish their thoughts respecting the objects that surround them.”

And again, that a writer upon these (as he himself so learnedly was), if

he should “have lent a helping hand towards the enlargement of the

boundaries of historical and topographical knowledge; or if he should

have thrown even some small light upon ancient customs and manners, his

purpose would have been fully answered.”

Gentlemen, it is for you to judge whether I have succeeded in placing

before you any interesting facts “respecting the objects which surround

us,” and have “contributed to the enlargement of the boundaries of

(_your_) historical and topographical knowledge.”

I have expressed some opinions, and placed before you many facts. I hope

these may provoke some profitable comments or discussion.

[Picture: Sir Thomas Browne]

X.

SIR THOMAS BROWNE.

A Paper read at a Meeting of the C.E.Y.M.S. Literary Class, on Monday,

March 12th, 1894. {121}

I am glad to redeem my promise to read a paper before this Literary

Class, during this present session, upon one of our most noted British

Authors, and I have thought that I could not do better than to bring

before your notice one of those who literally resided at our very doors;

and whose works—if not so generally read as those of many other

writers—are not the less deserving of careful study, and will well repay

any time spent upon their perusal. In fact, I make bold to say that the

more they are studied, the more does the great learning displayed in them

impress itself upon us, and the more also does the high moral nature of

the Author make itself felt. I could well have wished that this brief

notice had been more elaborate and more worthy of the Author, but I may

well plead the great public demands which have recently been made upon my

time; and which often have been so numerous and so continuous, as to

leave but little time for literary work or thought, or indeed for

anything but the ordinary duties of each day as it comes round. The

Author whom I have selected for notice this evening is _Sir Thomas

Browne_, long a resident in this city, for many years a practising

physician here; a gentleman who enjoyed the highest reputation even in

his own lifetime, as a man of high character and great literary

attainments; who enjoyed personal and literary acquaintanceship with many

of the greatest men of his day; and whose works attracted the notice of

the learned and the great from the first moment of their public

appearance.

The house in which Sir Thomas Browne resided is the one immediately

opposite to the entrance to this building; and a portion of it is now the

Norfolk and Norwich Savings Bank, just across the street. I am unable to

say how far Sir Thomas Browne’s house extended at the time of his

occupation of it; undoubtedly many of the buildings to the north and east

of it have been erected since his time; and as we are told of his

extensive garden adjoining it, it is probable that this latter extended

far up to, or possibly even on to Orford Hill. It is also believed that

he had another garden somewhere upon Mousehold.

Sir Thomas Browne was not a native of Norwich, for he appears to have

been born in London in 1605. He settled in practice here in 1634 or

1636, and continued to reside here until 1682, when he died at the age of

77 years. He was buried in the chancel of St. Peter Mancroft church in

this city, and a tablet to his memory hangs on the adjoining wall, with a

notable inscription, which any of you can go and see for yourselves, but

which is too long for me to reproduce here.

I am able to show you an engraving from a portrait of him which long hung

neglected in the Vestry Room of St. Peter’s, but which now occupies a

more worthy position on the walls of the Board Room of the Norfolk and

Norwich Hospital. {123} I can also show you a copy of the 7th edition of

his works, dated 1686.

Sir Thomas Browne was knighted in 1671, on the occasion of a visit of

King Charles II. to this city. The King at first offered to confer this

honour upon the Mayor of Norwich, but his worship declining the

compliment, Dr. Thomas Browne was knighted in his stead.

I have said that Sir Thomas Browne was buried in the Chancel of St. Peter

Mancroft Church. Here he appears to have rested in peace for nearly two

hundred years, when in 1840—as recorded by Mr. Fitch—(Proceedings of the

Archæological Institute, 1847) “Some workmen who were employed in digging

a vault in the Chancel of the Church of St. Peter’s Mancroft, Norwich,

accidentally broke, with a blow of the pick axe, the lid of a coffin,

which proved to be that of one whose residence within its walls conferred

honour on Norwich in olden times.” “The bones of the skeleton were found

to be in good preservation, particularly those of the skull; the hair

profuse and perfect, of a fine auburn colour, similar to that in the

portrait presented to the parish by Dr. Howman” (who in later times

occupied his house, now the Savings Bank).

The coffin plate bore a Latin inscription, which was translated by the

late Mr. Firth, of this city, thus—“The very distinguished man, Sir

Thomas Browne, Knight, Doctor of Medicine, aged 77 years, who died on the

19th of October, in the year of our Lord, 1682, sleeping in this coffin

of lead, by the dust of his alchemic body transmuted it into a coffer of

gold.”

You are all, doubtless, familiar with the fact that the skull of this

great man was then taken away, and finally presented to the Museum of the

Norfolk and Norwich Hospital, where, along with a lock of his hair, it

still remains, carefully preserved and held in high honour. And you have

doubtless heard and read of the efforts which have recently been made to

re-obtain possession of it and again consign it to its mother earth. The

numerous letters and papers which have appeared in the public press,

discussing this question, are also fresh in all your minds, and give

nearly every aspect of the matter. One good thing at least they have

affected, and that is, to bring Sir Thomas Browne’s name into greater

prominence than for many long years. And I have no doubt that this

incident, together with a reviving interest in the works of this great

Norwich writer and thinker, have resulted in his being more famous to-day

in Norwich than at any former period since that of his actual residence

here and of the years immediately following his decease.

Much has been made, during this discussion, of a paragraph in Sir Thomas

Browne’s disquisition on urn-burial. He is said to have, almost

prophetically, described this incident of the removal of his own skull

from his tomb, when he wrote “to be _knaved_ out of our graves, to have

our skulls made drinking bowls, and our bones turned into pipes, to

delight and sport our enemies, are tragical abominations escaped in

burning burials.” But, I think the whole force of this extract is

removed by turning to Wilkin’s edition, where this passage runs, “to be

_gnawed_ (not knaved) out of our graves,” which clearly gives it a very

different meaning.

Sir Thomas Browne married a few years after settling in Norwich (in

1641), a daughter of Edward Mileham, Esq., of Burlingham St. Peter, in

this county, and granddaughter of John Hobart, Esq., by whom he had ten

children. Of these ten, his eldest son, Dr. Edward Browne, became very

eminent in his profession. He practised in London, where he was made

Physician to King Charles II., and he was afterwards appointed Physician

to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, and later became President of the Royal

College of Physicians.

Sir Thomas Browne appears to have enjoyed for many years a very

considerable practice in this city. But he was also an archæologist, a

naturalist, a studier of plants and animals. He had as personal friends

or literary correspondents such men as Sir Robert Paston, Sir Hamon

L’Estrange, Sir Kenelm Digby, John Evelyn, Sir William Dugdale, and

Bishop Hall, and he appears to have found time to carry on a very large

literary correspondence. He lived in Norwich from 1634 to 1682, which

included the dangerous times of the Stuarts, of the Long Parliament, and

of the Commonwealth. But he appears to have been a staunch Royalist. He

was knighted, as I have said, by King Charles II., on the occasion of his

visiting Norwich in 1671.

Later in this year he was visited by the well-known Evelyn, whose oft

quoted passage respecting him runs thus—“My Lord Henry Howard . . . would

needs have me go with him to Norwich, promising to convey me back after a

day or two; this, as I could not refuse, I was not hard to be persuaded

to, having a desire to see that famous scholar and physitian, Dr. T.

Browne, author of the ‘Religio Medici,’ and ‘Vulgar Errors,’ etc., now

lately knighted.” And he adds, “Next morning I went to see Sir Tho.

Browne (with whom I had some time corresponded by letter, tho’ I had

never seen him before). His whole house and garden being a paradise and

cabinet of rarities, and that of the best collections, especially

medails, books, plants, and natural things. Amongst other curiosities,

Sir Thomas had a collection of the eggs of all the foule and birds he

could procure. . . . He led me to see all the remarkable places of this

ancient citty being one of the largest, and certainly, after London, one

of the noblest of England, for its venerable Cathedrall, number of

stately churches, cleanesse of the streetes, and buildings of flints, so

exquisitely headed and squared, as I was much astonished at. . . . The

Castle is an antique extent of ground, which now they call Marsfield, and

would have been a fitting area to have placed the ducal palace on. The

suburbs are large, the prospects sweete, with other amenities, not

omitting the flower gardens, in which all the inhabitants excel. The

fabric of stuffs brings a vast trade to this populous towne.”

Sir Thomas Browne was, as is evident from even a cursory study of his

works, a great student. He understood most of the European languages,

Latin and Greek critically, and a little Hebrew, and it is quite certain

that he must have studied carefully, not only the Christian Scriptures,

but also the works of many of the ancient fathers of the Christian

Church. His memory of what he had read must have been prodigious. But

though he was so learned a man, a traveller, a student of languages, a

naturalist, a medical practitioner, and in many respects doubtless ahead

of his time, yet a sad blot exists upon his generally great character,

and scientific acumen. I allude to the evidence which he gave at Bury

St. Edmund’s, in 1664, at the trial before Lord Chief Baron Hale, of two

women for witchcraft. Sir Thomas appears to have been a firm believer in

witches and witchcraft, and the declaration which he made to this effect

“was thought to have had no small influence in occasioning the

condemnation of the wretched victims, whose execution was one of the

latest instances of the kind by which the English annals are disgraced.”

After his death his widow resided in his house until her death. Then it

was occupied by Dr. Howman, who presented the portrait of the knight to

St. Peter’s Mancroft. A large portion of his letters and manuscripts

passed into the hands of Sir Hans Sloane, and are now in our National

Library at the British Museum.

During this present century the house has been dismantled and converted

to its new purposes, and its fittings dispersed. A handsome carved

mantel-piece, removed from one of the rooms by the builder, is now in the

possession of Mr. Henry Birkbeck, of Stoke; and the very keys of the

house were long treasured as relics by the late Mr. Barker, of Thorpe

Hamlet.

But I must not dwell longer upon his personality and personal history,

interesting though they be, in the light of his being a Norwich man, and

the most famous of Norwich authors. If you wish to know more of his

biography, you will find it all excellently given in the memoir of him

written by Dr. Samuel Johnson, and which, together with a supplemental

memoir by Simon Wilkin, is prefaced to the edition of his works in three

volumes, published by Bohn in 1852, and edited by Wilkin.

We must next consider to what Sir Thomas Browne owes his great literary

fame, and upon what his claims rest for being one of this city’s most

eminent citizens.

Sir Thomas Browne was a very voluminous writer, and he touched a great

variety of subjects. The greatest of his works, the one which was

published soon after his settling in Norwich, was undoubtedly that to

which he gave the name of “_Religio Medici_”—the religion of a physician;

implying thereby, not “that physicians have a religion to themselves, but

that physicians have religion as well as other men.” It immediately

attracted the attention of the most learned in the land, and it is

certainly the production upon which his literary fame most largely

depends. It is quaintly written, full of odd phrases, original thoughts,

and peculiarities of diction, but equally full of fine sentiments and

expressions of confident religious faith. It is a work often so quaint

in its diction, so stilted in its modes of expression (as indeed was

common in those days), and so interlarded with specialized or new-coined

words, that it is somewhat difficult to read and understand. But its

high qualities and beauties are so great that it richly repays the

trouble of mastering its style; and I venture to assert that the

greatness of its sentiments and thoughts grows upon one by perusal, and

that the oftener it is read the more greatly will it be appreciated.

To show what was thought of it from the first, it had, by the year 1736,

passed through fourteen editions, and had also been translated into

Latin, French, Dutch and German.

Now let me briefly quote a few passages from this “_Religio Medici_,” to

show the views and opinions upon the Christian religion which are therein

set forth.

First, Sir T. Browne says, “I dare without usurpation assume the

honourable style of a Christian, not that I merely owe this title to the

font, or any education . . . but that having in my riper years and

confirmed judgement, seen and examined all, I find myself obliged by the

principles of grace, and the law of mine own reason, to embrace no other

name but this.”

Again, whilst professing himself a member of the reformed faith, he shows

the great charity of his mind by saying “I could never divide myself from

any man upon the difference of an opinion, or be angry with his judgement

for not agreeing with me in that from which perhaps within a few days I

should dissent myself.”

And speaking of Death, he says “I hold the same conceit (of the soul)

that we all do of the body, that it should rise again,” and in all

humility he adds “so that I might enjoy my Saviour at the last, I could

with patience be nothing almost unto eternity.”

As for the many difficulties and mysteries of our religion, he expresses

an almost blind faith in all that is written. He writes “I desire to

exercise my faith in the difficultest point: for to credit ordinary and

visible objects, is not faith, but pursuasion;” again, he craves by faith

“that greater blessing pronounced to all that believe and saw not,”

adding “God hath not made a creature that can comprehend him; ’tis a

privilege of his own nature. ‘_I am_, _that I am_,’ was his own

definition unto Moses; and ’twas a short one to confound mortality, that

durst question God, or ask him what he was.”

Speaking of natural, as a confirmation of revealed religion, he says

“there are two books from whence I collect my divinity. Besides that

written one of God, another of his servant nature, that universal and

publick manuscript, that lies expansed unto the eyes of all.” . . . “Nor

do I so forget God as to adore the name of nature, which I define not,

with the schools, to be the principle of motion and rest, but that

straight and regular line, that settled and constant course the wisdom of

God hath ordained the actions of his creatures, according to their

several kinds.”

And as a comfort to the comparatively weak, he says, in speaking of

Christian martyrs, “’Tis not in the power of every honest faith to

proceed thus far, or to pass to Heaven through the flames. . . . Yet men

may, notwithstanding, in a peaceful way, truly adore their Saviour, and

have, no doubt, a faith acceptable in the eyes of God.”

These extracts are quite sufficient to show you the tone in which this

great work was written; and to disprove the allegation made by some

against Browne of having written an Atheistical book. It is remarkable

that it was placed by the Roman Church in the _Index Expurgatorius_.

Sir Thomas Browne wrote yet another religious or semi-religious book,

which was entitled “_Christian Morals_.” It is very different in style

from the one just mentioned, and the manner is more that of proverbs or

aphorisms.

He commences by saying “Tread softly and circumspectly in this . . .

narrow path of goodness; pursue virtue virtuously; leaven not good

actions, nor render virtue disputable.” Again, “In this virtuous voyage

of thy life . . . let not disappointment cause despondency, nor

difficulty despair.” “Rest not in an ovation, but a triumph over thy

passions. Let anger walk hanging down the head; let malice go manacled,

and envy fettered after thee.”

“Be charitable before wealth make thee covetous, and lose not the glory

of the mite. If riches increase, let thy mind hold pace with them, and

think it not enough to be liberal, but munificent. Though a cup of cold

water may not be without its reward, yet stick not thou for wine and oil

for the wounds of the distressed.”

“Let not the law of thy country be the _non ultra_ of thy honesty. . . .

Join Gospel righteousness with legal right.”

“Let not the sun go down upon thy wrath, but write thy wrongs in ashes.

Draw the curtain of night upon injuries, shut them up in the tower of

oblivion, and let them be as though they had not been. To forgive our

enemies, yet hope that God will punish them, is not to forgive enough.”

“Think not that always good which thou thinkest thou can always make

good, nor that concealed which the sun doth not behold. There is no

darkness unto conscience; which can see without light, and in the deepest

obscurity give a clear draught of things, which the cloud of

dissimulation hath concealed from all eyes.”

As final quotations from “_Christian Morals_” let me give these

sentences, “Bright thoughts, clear deeds, constancy, fidelity, bounty,

and generous honesty, are the gems of noble minds,”—and

“Live happy in the Elysium of a virtuously composed mind. . . .

Tranquility is better than jollity, and to appease pain than to invent

pleasure. . . . Forget not the capital end, and frustrate not the

opportunity of once living. . . . Think every day the last, and live

always beyond thy account.”

I want neither to tire you, nor to read you a sermon at second-hand. So

having now shown you the religious side of Browne’s character, let me

give you some idea of his learning and acquirements and general industry.

In his grand treatise on _Hydriotaphia_ or _Urn-burial_, which he wrote

consequent upon the discovery of some ancient sepulchral urns at Old

Walsingham, in Norfolk, he exemplifies the great stores of knowledge

which by his reading and memory he had accumulated. He quaintly prefaces

this treatise by saying, “Who knows the fate of his bones, or how often

he is to be buried? Who hath the oracle of his ashes, or whither they

are to be scattered?” And then he goes on to describe the various modes

of disposal of the dead in various ages, and among different nations.

For instance, he says that “Carnal interment or burying was of the elder

date,” as shown by the older examples of Abraham and the Patriarchs.

“But the practice of burning was also of great antiquity, and of no

slender extent.” And he illustrates this by the Grecian funerals of

Homer; the funeral pyre of Hector; and by early records of the practice

in various countries of Asia, in Rome itself, and in different countries

of both Europe and Africa.

Touching the various modes of disposal of the dead, he says, “The Indian

Brachmans thought it the noblest way to end their days in fire.

“The Chaldeans abhorred fire.

“The Egyptians objected to the merciless consuming of their bodies by

fire, but preserved them, by precious embalments, depositure in dry

earths, or handsome enclosure in glasses.

“The Scythians, who swore by wind and sword, declined all interment, and

made their graves in the air.

“The Icthyophagi, or fish-eating nations about Egypt, affected the sea

for their grave.

“The Chinese, without cremation of their bodies, made use of trees, and

much burning, while they plant a pine tree by their grave.

“The Jews usually buried their dead, but occasionally admitted cremation,

as when Jabesh burnt the body of Saul, and as was their practice in times

of pestilence.

“The Christians have preferred the practice of the Patriarchs, returning

their bodies, not to ashes, but to dust.”

He then goes on to discuss the various customs in this respect of the

successive inhabitants of England; and he concludes his learned and

interesting treatise by saying, as to the hopes of Christians, and the

comparative unimportance of the mode of sepulture, “To subsist in lasting

monuments, to live in their productions, . . . was large satisfaction

unto old expectations. But all this is nothing in the metaphysicks of

true belief. To live indeed is to be again ourselves, which being not

only a hope, but an evidence in noble believers, ’tis all one to lie in

St. Innocents’ Churchyard, or in the sands of Egypt. Ready to be

anything, in the ecstasy of being ever, and as content with six foot (of

earth) as the _Moles_ of Adrianus.”

But I must hurry on, and next very briefly call your attention to another

of his great works, that which he styled _Pseudodoxia Epidemica_, or

“Enquiries into many received tenets and presumed truths, which,

examined, prove but vulgar and common errors.”

These “errors,” which he treats of in papers or treatises of various

lengths, are very numerous, and for even a cursory knowledge of them I

must refer you to the book itself.

To give you an idea of the subjects, I will only mention a few of the

titles of the errors which he proceeds to refute:—

That crystal is nothing else but ice strongly congealed,

That an elephant hath no joints,

That a pigeon hath no gall,

Of the Phœnix,

Of the Basilisk,

That a Salamander lives in the fire,

That an ostrich digesteth iron.