Sir William Milner
Sir William Milner contributed his reminiscences to the Memorial number
of Our Lady's Mirror Autumn 1958-Winter 1959, after Fr Patten's death
My first meeting with “Pat” as his friends were told to call him, was, I think, in 1923, at a
League of Our Lady meeting in London, at which a young clergyman dressed in a frock-coat
(Pat’s usual London garb in those days) turned up to give a talk on the newly-reconstituted
pilgrimage to Our Lady of Walsingham; and of absorbing interest it was. The result was that
a small pilgrimage was made from London (very small it was too) in the autumn. It was to
have consisted of three, I being one, but I went down with a bad chill, and only two made it.
Next year, a larger number came, and so it gradually continued to grow.
The inner story of how all this happened started a good many years earlier, when Pat, then
still a boy, began to turn his thoughts to the priesthood, feeling a strong sense of vocation;
and also a strong devotion to Our Lady. When his thoughts on the priesthood began to
crystallise, he often asked Our Lady that, if he became a priest, he might go to some sphere
of work that was particularly associated with her. Fr Lingwood has recounted how this all
came about.
So Pat found himself Vicar of Walsingham. Before he had been there many weeks, he
determined that the Pilgrimage must be got going again; a lovely figure of Our Lady and
the Holy Child, copied from the old seal of the Priory, was carved and coloured by a
Religious, the figure that today stands in the Holy House; and it was solemnly blessed and
enthroned on a carved bracket on a column of the Guilds Chapel in the ancient parish
church of St Mary, Little Walsingham. Here it remained until the new Shrine Church was
built; and this Guilds Chapel was the centre of the early pilgrimages. At that time one of
the highlights of the Pilgrimage was a visit to drink of the Wells in the Abbey grounds; and
as these grounds were only open on a Wednesday, this meant that the pilgrimages could
only take place between Tuesday and Thursday, a not very convenient time for many of the
people who would otherwise have liked to come.
The typical form that the pilgrimages took at that time was as follows. The train was taken
from King’s Cross to Fakenham, where the pilgrims were met by all sorts and kinds of
conveyances, and driven the five miles to Walsingham. After being shown their lodgings at
various houses in the village (where they were invariably received with the greatest
possible kindness and attention by the householder), came the first visit to the Guilds
Chapel to fix their intentions, followed by Vespers of Our Lady, and supper, which in the
very early days took place in a special room in the Black Lion, originally a mediæval pilgrim
Inn, which, so we are told, once welcomed Queen Philippa of Hainault during her
pilgrimage here; for in the old days it was an understood thing that all, high or low, who
could possibly do so, should come to Walsingham every year to salute Our Lady in
England’s Nazareth. This was followed by confessions in the parish church, always an
understood thing at the commencement of any pilgrimage. And then, bed, lulled to sleep
by the quiet voice of the trees. In the morning, priests on pilgrimage said their Mass, and
the lay pilgrims made their Communion. After this came breakfast and Stations of the
Cross, and Sung Mass, followed by a somewhat strenuous walk (some 2 miles) to the
Church of St Giles at Houghton; and then over the footbridge over the Stiffkey to the
Slipper Chapel, where in old days the pilgrims took of their shoes to walk barefoot the mile
or so to England’s Nazareth; the last to do so being Henry VIII, in the days before the Devil
entered into him to destroy the Priory and all the other Religious Houses in the country.
This Chapel was, in our early days, in repair but unused. It had been bought some years
previously by a lady, after being for years used as a hayshed. She unfortunately went over
to Rome, and handed over the Chapel to the Benedictines. We used to visit it, and say
some decades of the Rosary, before walking back to Walsingham, thinking I have no doubt
of all the thousands that had passed that way before us, and feeling that so we were one of
a great company that no man could number. After reaching Walsingham, and luncheon, we
paid our sixpences at the old Priory gate in the High Street, and went into the ruins,
seeking ahead of us the one noble arch that had formerly contained the great East Window
of the Priory. After prayers at the site (as then supposed) of the Holy House on the North
side of where the great church had stood, we went to the Wells, a hundred yards or so to
the East of the Priory Church. Here, enclosed by a wall, and entered by a Norman arch
moved from somewhere else, are two circular wells and a square piscina or bath, with
steps leading down into it. We all drank of the water; and afterwards adjourned for tea on
the Vicarage lawn, always a happy and festive occasion. Then came supper, Vespers to Our
Lady and Benediction. And next morning, after Mass and a last visit to the Guilds Chapel to
say farewell to Our Lady, we started on our various ways home. Those were very happy
days. Many came again and again, and we all felt like meeting old friends.
Not only was Pat immersed in the work of restoring the devotion to Our Lady of
Walsingham; he had the Catholic way of life to build up in the three parishes. This he did
partly by persistent visiting, getting to know his people, taking part in all their joys and
sorrows, and getting them to trust and to love him. The work he did to spread Catholic
faith and practice in these years is beyond all knowledge; at any rate, one measure of it
was the usual attendance at the Sung Mass on Sundays, which, out of a population of
some 1,000 was seldom less than 100-150; and the numbers of confessions was
considerable, always the acid test of true conversion. He had a large band of local boys
trained as Servers; and one of the joyous things of those times was the weekly servers’
evening at the Vicarage, when Pat and all the rest used to play games, some of them on
the riotous side! One often used to see him with an impish grin on his face, and his hair all
upside down, as a result of some rough-and-tumble. I mention this, as it seems to me to
set the whole tone and friendliness of the place.
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Somewhere about 1926, he took up to the Vicarage a young chap from the village whom
he thought had a vocation to the priesthood. This boy, as well as being convinced of his
vocation, also developed a genius for finance, a quality lacking in Pat himself; and what Pat
and the work and building up of the work of the Shrine owed to Fr Derrick Lingwood (as he
is now) is beyond all knowledge. Only a few intimates realised what it all meant; in latter
years, Fr Derrick was often down working at the Shrine Office until well after midnight; and
it is entirely owing to the devoted work of Pat and himself that the work of the Pilgrimage
is what it is today. Soon after he was priested by the late Bishop of Bradford, they started
on an idea that Pad had long cherished, the beginning of a College of Priests founded on
the idea of the ancient mediæval Chantry Colleges. There was just themselves at first, and
they made a chapel in the Vicarage in which they used daily to recite the Divine Office of
Matins and Evensong in common.
So things went on, gradually growing; until sometime early in 1930 the then Bishop of
Norwich (Dr Bertram Pollock) arrived in the parish, and asked to see the Vicar. He told Pat
that he wanted to go down to the church. So down they went; and the Bishop marched
along to the Guilds Chapel, where he surveyed all that was therein. The first protest was
against the altar that was (and still is) placed in front of The Sidney Cenotaph. The Bishop
said “What a pity to hide the base of it.” Pat’s reply was “But don’t you think the upper part
makes an admirable reredos to the altar?” This however did not satisfy my Lord, who
wanted to see the base; so the frontal was lifted and he crawled underneath; and the
edifying spectacle was presented of the Episcopal posterior protruding outside while the
Episcopal face was studying the monument! Afterwards he turned to the image; and he
said “Mr Patten, do you teach your people to worship the Virgin?” Pat replied “Yes, but only
in the sense that you may say that you worship your earthly mother!” “Oh I see,” said my
Lord. He then moved closer to have a nearer look, and tripped heavily over the candle-box.
“Oh, what HAVE I done?” said the Bishop, as candles shot in all directions. Anyway, the
upshot of it was that the Bishop asked if the image might not be removed and be replaced
by a picture of Our Lady (a subtle difference that seems to have been in vogue in the C of
E for some years). Pat said he would have to consult his friends about this; and so they left
the church. As they were going out, Pat asked for the Episcopal blessing. Bertram seemed
to be rather nonplussed by this, but finally said “yes”; and solemnly led him up to the High
Altar and got behind the communion rails for the purpose. The upshot of all this was that
the Bishop unknowingly started something of which he never dreamed, for Pat consulted
with his friends and it was decided to accede to the Bishop’s wish but to build, on some of
the land already in the hands of the Shrine, a church modelled on the original layout of the
old chapel; that is, the Holy House inside a covering church to which the image would be
solemnly translated when it was finished. This apparently met with the Bishop’s wishes (he
had evidently been bully-ragged in the House of Lords by some of the backwoods Peers).
A charming picture of O.L.W. was painted by the late Clifford Pember, to take the place of
the image. So the work on the new building was started, and the image translated on a
morning of mid-October Sir William Milner, holding the deeds and a candle, in the
procession to the new Holy House, 19311931. A large number of priests and lay-folk
attended, to the number of a thousand or more. In the procession
was also the then Abbot of Nashdom and an Orthodox Archbishop.
The procession stretched all the way from St Mary’s, along the
High Street, to the new Pilgrimage Church. It was a colourful
throng; the Archbishop in his eastern vestment with Deacons of
Honour; the Abbot; various Religious, male and female, the donor
of the land on which the new church was built [this was Sir
William himself] carrying the title-deeds to be laid on the Altar of
the Holy House; the image of Our Lady of Walsingham carried
shoulder-high on a feretory carried by four priests in dalmatics, the Bishop of Accra, the
consecrator of the new buildings, with his Deacons of Honour, and the celebrant Fr Patten
himself. It must have been a proud day for him. And then the image was installed in the
Holy House in the niche where it still is over the altar. A strange thing happened the night
before, when Fr Patten was in the new building, and was conscious of the presence of
several figures, in the dress of Augustinian Canons, visiting the various altars, consulting a
paper which one of them held in his hands, and then nodding their heads in evident
pleasure at each altar, newly consecrated that day. The vision remained for quite some
time, and then faded.
Several interesting discoveries were made in the course of the building. When digging for
the foundations, a cobbled yard was found some four feet below the surface; and beyond,
the bases of walls, which seemed to agree very closely in plan and area with the
dimensions left by William of Worcester and Erasmus. Furthermore, a well was discovered
which, on being freed of the clay stopping, was found to contain at the bottom some old
rusty knives and old shoes, which were pronounced by the Victoria and Albert Museum
authorities to be of XVIth century date; and were evidently thrown in to dishonour the well.
The water at once welled up again. The structure of the well was, at the bottom few
courses, oak logs; and high up circular, of rough flint-work; quite consistent with a late
Saxon date; and near at hand was a large masonry foundation, square, and with a square
socket in it, which was undoubtedly the base of a great cross. It was found that the well
dropped into place exactly between two piers of the new arcade of the covering church;
and we none of us have any doubts that what was discovered was the original Holy Well.
This is still in use for drinking and sprinkling for pilgrims. The Stations of the Cross were
built round the Hospice Garden, culminating in a Hill of Calvary carrying three great
crosses; and also, for the XIVth station, a model of the Holy Sepulchre, containing an exact
model of the Holy Tomb, and a figure of the Saviour laying in it.
All this meant a great stride forward for the pilgrimage; in the first place, now that we had
our own Holy Well, and the probable original site of the ancient building, it was no longer
necessary to restrict pilgrimages to Tuesday/Thursday; but they could be held on any days
of the week. Parish pilgrimages began to come along from all over the country, besides
many from the London area.
So the work grew rapidly, until by 1935 it became evident that the original buildings were
quite inadequate to contain the numbers who came. One morning, when I was staying at
the Vicarage, we were all at breakfast, when Fr Derrick opened a letter that had come in
the post, and casually pushed it over to Pat, saying “Here is a cheque for £6,000.” Pat
thought he was pulling his leg; but nevertheless it was true; and this
amount made possible the much-needed extension to the Pilgrimage
Church. The work was put in hand at the east end of the original
building, which (the east end) was pulled down, and its site marked
in the pavement by a line of grey bricks, and the arcades carried on
to form a new nave and choir, with apse and various side-chapels,
which brought the number of altars up to fifteen, one for each of the
Mysteries of the Rosary. Care was taken in digging for the
foundations of the new building, to look out for the old foundations,
which were again found, all except one corner that came under the
original building. They were carefully cleared, and the corner that
came under the new extensions was crypted over so that it would be
still possible to visit it.
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I will not deal at length with the ensuing period, as many others besides myself have full
knowledge of all that went on. I will just mention that, to ensure continuity, it seemed good
to him to constitute a College of Guardians of the Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham, part
priests, part lay. With the opening of the enlarged Pilgrimage Church, Fr Patten and Fr
Derrick started to recite the Divine Office of Matins and Evensong solemnly in the choir;
and the Nuns had their own chapel behind the Organ Gallery, where is now a second
vestry.
The work continued and grew until 1939 brought the Second Great War; Walsingham
became a Prohibited Area, and pilgrimages, except for those living actually in the area, had
to cease, though the Guardians, as officials with official business there, were still allowed
in. Later on in the war period, a part of the Quainton Hall School at Harrow was evacuated
to Long Marston, in Northamptonshire. The Government eventually desired to commandeer
the site where they were living, and it became necessary for the boys to seek a new home.
Walsingham was chosen; and the derelict buildings in the Army Yard, and also St
Augustine’s, were altered, with Pat’s inimitable genius for this sort of thing and now the
Shrine had its own Choir School. After the War, he decided to make the Vicarage over to
the School, and himself to occupy the buildings by the Shrine, which became the College of
St Augustine, originally intended for priests; but it so happened that several laymen wished
to come, so the basis of it was changed to accommodate them. Pat and Derrick moved
down there; it happened during one of my visits to Walsingham, and he and I spent the
first night in the new Master’s House. The Office of Matins and Evensong were of obligation,
and were solemnly and very beautifully sung, together with the Lesser Hours (the latter not
at first of obligation).
All who have had the privilege of coming into the College will have been amazed by the
charm that Pat got into those derelict buildings, and the charming gardens that he laid out
both in the College Quad, and later on in front of the buildings that were repaired for the
accommodation of retired priests in what is now known as the North Wing.
But these are matters that are known to many others, who can deal with them far more
ably than myself; all I will say is that, when Pat became a priest, the Profession of
Architecture lost a very promising neophyte. Not that he had ever considered this as a
possibility so far as I know. But he could have been a very great one. Now he is passed
from our sight, it remains for us to carry on and extend the work that he so wonderfully
started. But one of the perennial headaches is that of finance; and the Guardians have
decided that there could be no more suitable memorial of his life and work than the raising
of a Fund of £50,000 to form a permanent endowment for the priests and the work of the
Shrine; for without this, it is impossible for the work to progress as we should all wish to
see it progress. I commend it to you all.
“Rest eternal grant unto him, O Lord, and let Light Perpetual shine upon him”
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