We are all familiar with the attempts which have recently been made by Pasteur in this direction, in regard to that most fatal disease Hydrophobia. It remains to be seen how far he has been successful in solving this preventive problem; and how far this may be the true method by which to utilize our knowledge of bacterial life. Medical men are diligently working at this subject from their own point of view. There is much to be done by microscopic naturalists in unravelling the life-history of these little beings; and we are glad to recognise the kind of results which may be hoped for in the future.
Such considerations as these are fraught with matter for deep reflection, and tend to open our minds to the far-reaching possibilities not only of this special knowledge, but of that which we are gaining in many other branches of science. Each fresh item of knowledge is like a new step upon a ladder, and raises us to a fresh height from which we can take a wider survey, and which we can assume as a loftier and broader basis for further enquiry. Scientific thought is ever as to what may next be done, and how to do it. For, as Sir James Paget has recently said: “Every increase of knowledge brings before us a larger and clearer view of the immeasurable quantity which is still to be gained. The more we know, the more can we see, if we will, how much more there is that we do not know.” And of this we may be sure, that it is by minute and exact work only that in the future our store of knowledge is to be increased and made sure. If no other example to prove this were at hand, it would be sufficient to quote the recent observations of the Rev. Dr. Dallinger on the subject of the conjugation of the nuclei of some minute forms of cell life: observations which bring us nearer to some definite knowledge of this particular matter than any hitherto made upon higher classes of creatures.
Dr. Dallinger has spoken of the “vast area of activity and research in this direction;” and Professor Huxley has said, “that those who have toiled for the advancement of science are in a fair way of being overwhelmed by the realisation of their wishes.”
We appear indeed to be still only on the threshold of knowledge, to have merely touched the fringe of the vast and infinite life-history which the living world, that inexhaustible stream of life which we see everywhere around us, contains. We are proud of the amount of our natural history knowledge. We think to have accumulated a large store of information as to that especially of our own district. We can point to the lists of animals and plants which the research of the members of our Society, and others, has so laboriously gathered together. And we can look to the stores of our Museum as illustrations of what has been done. And yet a little further consideration at once shows us how small a part this is of what is yet to be known. We know the gross form of the specimens; we know something of their habits during life; and yet how little is this of what there is to be known about them. Who is there of the most learned who can properly explain the meaning of one hundredth part of what these creatures present in form, size, colour, and intimate structure? We have a general idea that their special peculiarities have relation to the two primary essentials of life—the daily bread, and the perpetuation of the species—but we are largely unable to explain the raison d’etre of many of the commonest facts which they present. It will be a great day when we can also explain the object or utility of all the variations which they present.
Of course I do not forget the powerful impulse given by the researches of Darwin in the direction of explaining the why and the wherefore. I only indicate how large a portion of this explanatory field is yet untilled.
In this county a Naturalists’ Society will never lack either for material to work on, or for variety and interest of subject. Much, even in its grosser form, still remains to be learned. And the vast variety presented by the county, in respect of climate, soils, strata, heath, woodland, marsh, stagnant and running water, as well as the proximity of the great ocean with its shore—presents an almost unexampled field for the work of the scientific naturalist—a field, too, which is constantly changing in accordance with the physical and other changes steadily going on in the district.
With these great natural advantages, and with the great love for natural science, which is inherent in Norfolk men, I make bold to hope and prognosticate for this Society a prolonged and continuously useful career. We are glad to see its library growing, and its journalistic interchanges increasing. We are glad of the increasing importance of the position which it holds amongst kindred societies. We are all, I am sure, looking forward to the time when this, our Society, will meet in a handsome airy room on the top of the Castle Hill; [88] when any student of any particular branch of this natural history will be able (on repairing to our Museum) to see not merely inaccessible specimens ranged three or four deep, but so displayed as to be available for study and examination; when lectures and demonstrations will be possible, because there will be sufficient room space to contain both the lecturer and his audience; in short, when we in Norwich shall have a scientific centre worthy of the Museum and of the great reputation which this district has always held.
What a happy change, too, when the old Castle of Norwich—the last of our three city prisons—shall exchange its human prisoners for forms, imprisoned indeed, but not human; and intended only to enlarge and instruct and make more free the mind of man. And when Science and Art and the cultivation of the intelligence shall tend year by year, and ever more and more, to render real prisons less and less required. And when the moral sense and the force of cultivated public opinion shall suffice to reduce crime and ill-doing to its minimum. We gladly recognise how much has already been done, and we look forward with hope in both these directions to the good time coming.
In now resigning this chair to my learned and distinguished successor, I can only trust that he will find his year of office as pleasant, and as profitable to himself, as the Members of this Society, and their excellent Secretary, have rendered mine to me.
The parish of St. Giles’s, though relatively not large, yet has always in later periods occupied an important position in the City of Norwich. It formerly—as is usual with parishes dedicated to Saint Giles—lay upon the outskirts of the city, though not necessarily within the city proper previously to 1253 [90b] (as Mr. Hudson has pointed out), when the city was enclosed with a fosse. In recent times Norwich has expanded largely in the direction of Earlham and Heigham, and St. Giles’s is now completely overlapped by these populous suburbs.
Blomefield describes the parish as having been part of a new portion of Norwich called the New Burgh, originally settled in the time of Edward the Confessor, but much increased at the Conquest by the Normans or Frenchmen settling in it. He says they chose and took this position as being the pleasantest part of the city; but it may also have been that they selected it as being merely the best ground as yet unoccupied by earlier settlers.
St. Giles’s parish is broadly triangular in form, with its base along Chapel Field Road and St. Giles’s Hill. It covers (according to Ordnance Survey) a space of 22·952 acres, and comprises within its area rather more than half of Chapel Field. Its western boundary is along the site of the old city wall, and of St. Giles’s Gate, whilst on the eastern or city side it extends as far as Fisher’s Lane and a little beyond. The population in 1881 was 1,438.
A main city street runs through it, now known as St. Giles’s Street, but formerly called Inferior Newport, Nether Newport, or Lower Newport; Bethel Street being then called Over or Upper Newport.
This street is handsome and well-built, and contains several large and important houses or mansions. Of late years several of these have been converted into the homes of public institutions, and the “Young Men’s Christian Association,” “Gilman’s Insurance Offices,” and the “Masonic Association,” now occupy some of the largest of them.
On the north side of this main street, near to Fisher’s Lane, formerly stood a Domus Dei, or Almshouse, but this was pulled down about 150 years ago. Browne, writing in 1814, says: “On the south side of this street is the office of Mack’s London Waggons, which go and return to and from London every week.” These waggons continued to ply for many years; and “Mack’s yard,” which adjoined what is now Mortimer’s Hotel, was a business centre of considerable importance.
In olden times, Fisher’s Lane, which extends from St. Giles’s Broad Street to Pottergate Street, was believed to have been so called as being the road to a fish-quay, which formerly existed there; but this is now thought to be very doubtful. The other principal thoroughfares are St. Giles’s Plain, in which was formerly an open pit—seen and mentioned by Kirkpatrick, but long since filled up; Rigby’s Court, leading from it, formerly called Pit Lane, but now known as Rigby’s Court, from the eminent Dr. Rigby, who once lived at its St. Giles’s end; and Willow Lane, noteworthy for having for a time been the residence of the Rev. Francis Blomefield, the Norfolk historian, and of George Henry Borrow, the celebrated writer.
The principal Public Buildings are
The Church,
The Church Schools, built in 1862,
The Roman Catholic Chapel, erected in 1828, and
The Volunteer Drill Hall, erected in 1865–6.
Until quite recently the City Prison stood immediately outside the Gate of St. Giles; but the site of this prison is now occupied by the Roman Catholic Church, now in process of erection.
In earlier times a Leper-house existed just beyond the gate.
Also until recently there existed just beyond the gate a series of remarkable and ancient chalk vaults, or excavations. They are described by Mr. Woodward (“Archæologia” vol. xxiij., p. 411), who showed a plan of them made by John Bond in 1571. Woodward thinks they were galleries made to obtain the chalk flints for building purposes, whilst Mr. Rye says “they were probably worked by the masons of the Castle and Cathedral for the sake of the chalk.” They are now filled up.
The City Wall, built between 1294 and 1319, surrounded the outer and western margin of this parish; and St. Giles’s Gateway, the “Porte de Newport,” or Gate of Newport, stood at the western end of St. Giles’s Street. Over this gate, at one time, lived an hermit. It was pulled down in 1792. In 1867 the greater portion of this part of the City Wall was also taken down; only a small portion near the southern end of Chapel Field, with one of the towers, being left standing. A photograph of this remnant is given in my book on St. Giles’s parish; as well as views of the Gateway as it existed in 1720 and 1792. The latter were sketched by the Ninhams, and published by Mr. Fitch in his work on the Gates of Norwich.
Chapel Field, whose history is so strongly interwoven with that of Norwich, lies on the southern side of St. Giles’s. It takes its name from a Chapel of St. Mary, which formerly stood where now is the building used as a High School for Girls. More than half of it lies in this parish (4·790 acres out of a total of 8·994 acres). It was formerly known as Chapel Field Croft; and its ancient owners are stated by Blomefield to have been the Prior of Buckenham, the Prioress of Carhowe, and the Dean and College of the Chapel in the Fields. But it appears to have been acquired by the City during the sixteenth century, after the dissolution of the monasteries. Chapel Field was at one time a sort of Campus Martius of the city, and was used for the musters and training of the local trained bands, as well as for military reviews. After its acquirement by the Corporation, the Field was for a long time usually let out on lease.
In 1707 it was first railed in. In 1746 its main avenues of trees were planted by Sir Thomas Churchman. In 1792 a large portion of it was used for the construction of the reservoir of the old Norwich Waterworks. In later times it has been used for the drilling of Militia or Volunteers; as well as for Volunteer reviews; also for the holding of fêtes, flower shows, bicycle meetings, and horse shows. The well-remembered Fisheries Exhibition was held in the Drill Hall in 1881.
In 1866 the Prince and Princess of Wales each planted a Wellingtonia tree in the Field, but these did not flourish, and have been removed. In the same year the Field was enclosed with its present handsome iron palisading, and it has since then been transformed into the delightful Chapel Field Gardens, as we now see them, with their special beauties, and the handsome iron Pavilion in their midst.
The Church of St. Giles, dedicated to the Saint of that name, stands on the north side of Upper St. Giles’s Street; and is a striking object as we pass up the street, as well as from many other points of view. It occupies a commanding position, overlooking much of the surrounding district, and was anciently called St. Giles’s on the Hill.
Blomefield says it was founded by Elwyn the priest, and given by him to the Monks of Norwich, after he had procured an indulgence of twenty days’ pardon for all who should come and offer here on St. Giles’s Day, or within seven days after, and it was rebuilt in the time of Richard II. The chancel, which appears to have been a very long one, was demolished in 1581, and was not rebuilt until the general restoration of the Church in 1866, when it was restored mainly at the cost of the Rev. W. N. Ripley (now Canon Ripley) who was then Incumbent.
The Church is a fine perpendicular flint-work structure. The tower is large and well proportioned. It is battlemented and crowned with a small bell-cot and weather-cock. It is rather more than 113 feet high, and the hill upon which it stands is 85·8 feet above the level of the sea. From its height and conspicuous position, it was selected in 1549 for placing a cresset, for a fire beacon, upon its top. There was formerly a Cross and Image of the Trinity in a niche on the west side of the steeple (Blomefield). It has a clock on its eastern face, and contains eight bells, one of which is rung as a Curfew every evening at eight o’clock, as has been the case for more than four hundred years, in accordance with a benefaction of one John Colton, in 1457.
The Belfry Chamber contains five large steeple-boards, with many names of ringers.
The Porch has a fine groined vault, with fan tracery, and a rich parapet and cornice.
Kirkpatrick (1712) says of it: “There is a neat porch of freestone on the south side of the Church for entrance, with a chamber above it. On each side of the window, which is in the front, is a niche (with) spired top. On each side of the arch of the door, cut in stone, is a cherub with an escocheon before him. That on the east side has two pastoral staffs. On the (west) a Pall, and at the top of the porch a border of carved work whereon you see the letter G of the antient form with a crown upon it and an escocheon with vine branch of various small ones denoting St. Giles, to whom dedicated.” (These three niches are now empty.) “On the north side of Church there is no porch, but only a door opposite to that of the south.” (This doorway no longer exists.)
The Church itself consists of new Chancel, Nave, and North and South Aisles. The whole building is about 120 feet long, and the nave with its aisles is 48 feet across. The roof is of good open woodwork, supported by “Angels bearing shields, emblazoned with the Arms of England, France, and Castile” (Bayne). And Taylor says the Arms of Norwich Priory are (or were) seen in this roof. The columns supporting it are light and elegant. They are four in number, with a pilaster at each end, and they divide the nave from the aisles. The clerestory windows have been modernised. They are five in number, and closely correspond to the larger windows in the walls of the north and south aisles. Of these there are five in the north side, and four (and the porch) on the south side.
Blomefield says that “In the west end of the south aisle there was formerly a chapel, altar, and image of St. Catharine, with a light burning before it; and against one of the pillars there was a famous rood called the Brown-rood. There was a Gild of St. Mary kept before the altar of the Virgin of Pity. The west window in the north aisle was adorned with the history of Our Lord’s passion; and there were lights burning before the images of St. Mary, St. John Baptist, St. Christopher, St. Unkumber, and St. Wilegesartis; besides those that continually burned before the Holy-rood, or cross, the Holy Sepulchre, and the Sacrament.”
Mr. Hudson says that S. Uncumber and S. Wilegesartis, or Wylgefort, were the same person, and in the St. Peter Mountergate Parish Magazine for February of this year (1891) he has thus briefly given her history: “She was a beautiful maiden who was ordered to marry a man to whom she had a great aversion. While she was at her wits’ end to know how to avoid her fate, she was delighted to discover that in the course of a few hours she had become adorned with a full-grown and very ugly black beard. This, of course, disposed of the gentleman. Wylgefort lived to be a happy old maid, and when she died was honoured as a Saint . . . She was thought to have some special power to uncumber (i.e. disencumber, make free) discontented wives from disagreeable husbands. Hence her popular name.”
The remains of a colossal fresco painting of St. Christopher and two consecration crosses were discovered on the wall of the north aisle in 1723.
At the lower end of the Church stands an ancient stone Font; the upper part, or basin, evidently of much older date than the base, which consists of a pedestal and two steps. The outer part of the basin has eight facets, carved with shields and flowers, and below these are eight cherubs’ heads, with flowers between. The pedestal is carved out on its sides into niches, having cusped tracery heads. There was formerly a cover, which has been lost. Standing within the large basin is a small leaden vessel and cover, a rough miniature copy of the font itself, made about fifty years ago by Mr. Culyer, then parish clerk.
The Communion Plate [97a] consists of six pieces, silver gilt, and presented by Robert Snell in 1738, and of two brass bowls, presented by Mr. John Gurney in 1869.
The reading desk and pulpit, the organ, the oak fittings, and the vestry room were all added in 1866, when the whole Church was restored, and the Chancel rebuilt. [97b] The building is thoroughly heated by hot water. The Communion rail was added about five years ago.
The Church contains several monuments, besides mural tablets and inscribed stones. The principal of the former are those of
Adrian Payne, 1686, the founder of Payne’s Charity.
Robert Snell, 1738, who gave the Communion Plate.
Alderman Churchman, 1742.
Dr. Offley, 1767.
Sir Thomas Churchman, 1781.
Dr. John Beevor, 1815.
The Stannard Family, 1838.
Slabs to the memory of Henry Crossgrove, printer, 1744, who published the first Norwich newspaper in 1706; and to Elizabeth, wife of Colonel Cobbe, of Sandringham Hall, 1698, may also be mentioned.
There are several brasses, the two principal represent Robert Baxter, Mayor of Norwich in 1424 and 1429, with his wife; and Richard Purdaunce, Mayor 1422 and 1433, with his wife. Both of these are figured in Cotman’s “Brasses of Norfolk.”
Other and smaller brasses are inscribed with the names of John Smith, Elizabeth Bedingfield, Margaret Landysdale, Thomas Hervey, and Rachel Spendlove.
The Room over the Porch contains some church standards of former St. Giles’s Mayors; also a dilapidated ‘Parish Umbrella’; and the parish ‘Watchman’s Crake,’ or rattle.
The Parish Registers date from 1538, and are very perfect. The Burial Register shows distinct evidence of the presence of unusual mortality in some of the well-known pestilence years. The first part contains a very remarkable illustrated dedication.
The Churchyard was altered and enclosed with a wall and iron railing in 1866–7. Taylor says that a Hermitage formerly existed in its south-west corner.
There are several and important parish Charities; their proceeds being partly for Church purposes, and partly for the benefit of poor parishioners.
The incumbency has an endowment of about £70 a year. It was formerly a Perpetual Curacy, and is now a Vicarage. It is in the gift of the Dean and Chapter. A vicarage house for the minister has been purchased quite recently.
The Tower of St. Giles’s Church
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. [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.
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.”