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.