THE ORIENTATION OF GRAVES
When the roaming antiquary stops to watch the sexton dig a grave, he
observes, not for the first time doubtless, that the graves all lie East
and West. To the person whose tastes are not antiquarian, the matter is
quite commonplace and he seldom gives it further thought. Yet, so firmly
is the custom fixed as a popular institution, and so unconsciously is it
obeyed, that it is only when it is perforce disregarded, in crowded
cemetery or churchyard, that one’s feelings receive a slight shock by
reason of the irregularity. Now these unconscious observances carry with
them their certificate of age. For, as John Brand, in the opening words
of his famous book, well declares, concerning such “vulgar rites”: “The
strongest proof of their remote antiquity is that they have outlived the
general knowledge of the very causes that gave rise to them.”
Perhaps there is a little danger of a misunderstanding: it should be
made clear that it is only in modern times that folk have become unable
to give any reason whatever for the custom. The earlier churchmen had an
explanation to tender, though, as we shall see, it was only of secondary
and derivative rank. Further, the rule was, and indeed still is, more
precise in its operation than above stated, for the head of the corpse
is directed towards the West and the feet towards the East. In other
words, the normal disposition of the corpse, according to the ancient
teaching of the Church, is that it shall face the East.
Durandus, who has already been frequently cited, states the rule, and
gives as a reason that the Eastward position is properly assumed in
prayer[600]. Bede explains the arrangement on the supposition that the
Coming of the Great Day and of the “Sun of Righteousness” will be seen
from the East, hence the dead should face the sunrise[601]. The
Scriptural allusion in Zechariah, too, has often been quoted in support
of the practice; the feet of the Messiah, so the verse runs, shall
“stand in that day upon the Mount of Olives, which is before Jerusalem
on the East[602].” Larousse, to mention but one more writer, refers to
the injunction, but adds that the bodies of priests, martyrs, and
bishops are laid in a reverse direction--“_caput versus altare_,” so
that they face the West. A curious reason is assigned: churchmen of high
or clerical rank are expected to rise first, and to pass onwards with
the head looking West[603], a strange contradiction of Bede’s
hypothesis.
Since the effective force of a rule is tested by its exceptions, we
shall now glance at some breaches of conformity. With such
transgressions of custom one might profitably compare the deliberate
refusal to orient churches, discussed in the preceding chapter. Thus, in
John Aubrey’s _Remaines of Gentilisme and Judaisme_, we are assured that
most of the ancient graves at Middleton Stoney, Oxfordshire, were made
to lie North and South. Whether this were due to ignorance or to the
spirit of opposition, the author of the statement, Dr White Kennett, was
unable to say. In one of the rare and anonymous “Marprelate” tracts
(A.D. 1589), now familiar to most students through Professor Arber’s
admirable “English Scholar’s Library,” we read that Martin Month “would
not be laid East and West (for hee ever went against the haire) but
North and South: I think,” adds the tractarian, “because ‘_ab aquilone
omne malum_,’ and the South wind ever brings corruption with it[604].”
Martin Month has not lacked followers. Mr Hissey, in his _Over Fen and
Wold_, has recorded a seventeenth century example from Lincolnshire, a
stronghold of Puritanism[605]. William Glanville, who died at Wotton,
near Dorking, in the year 1750, left documentary injunctions requiring,
among other curious details, that he should be buried facing the North.
In a case of infringement of the rule, as related by Brand, the motive,
strangely enough, was not contumacy, but the desire to exhibit a visible
mark of penitence and humiliation[606]. In support of this view,
attention may be called to a stone coffin which is built into an
exterior angle of two walls at Lindisfarne Priory church. The coffin
lies South-East and North-West, and is believed to have held the body of
a monk who had broken his vows.
Thomas Hearne, the antiquary, as befitted a philosopher, ordered that
his executors should determine the true orientation of his grave by
means of a compass (A.D. 1735). This was done, with the result that the
monument appeared to be awry, though the actual error, it is affirmed,
lay in the incorrect orientation of the surrounding graves[607]. One is
inclined to modify this explanation; the divergence was probably caused
by the different modes of orientation, the earlier graves having been
most probably alined by the sun or the church fabric, while that of the
antiquary was set out by the needle, and, it may be, without making
allowance for the declination. In a parenthesis, an analogous case,
which came under the notice of the present writer, may be given. An
oblong kerbing of marble was to be placed around a grave in the
churchyard of Chipstead, Surrey, and the mason was told to take his
alinement from the wall of the chancel. When the task was finished the
kerbing was seen to be out of line with the surrounding graves. Dispute
was followed by a careful test. The kerb was true to the chancel wall,
but, as was then discovered, the chancel itself was askew, when compared
with the nave. Was the twist, then, of a date posterior to that of the
earliest grave-mounds, and were these made parallel with the nave? I
think the answer to the latter question is probably affirmative, but the
puzzle of dates cannot be so readily solved. It is almost certain that
none of the existing mounds is co-eval with the rebuilding or partial
rebuilding of the chancel[608], but again, the present mounds may have
been alined from a succession of earlier ones.
As already suggested, direct infraction of the general rule arrests the
attention; were it not for this, familiarity might make us blind. So
again, one may easily pass by at least two Shakespearean allusions.
“Make her grave straight,” says one sexton to the other, when about to
dig Ophelia’s grave[609], and, though certain commentators have
considered the words to imply “Make it immediately,” there is good
authority against this interpretation. The alternative reading supposes
that the command is to dig the grave East and West. This rendering of
the words seems very reasonable, seeing that they form part of an answer
to the question whether Ophelia shall have Christian burial. “I tell
thee she is: and therefore make her grave straight.” The explanation is
in full accord with the tradition, held in the South-East of England,
that the bodies of suicides were buried in a North and South direction.
The instruction given by Guiderius to Cadwal concerning the apparently
dead body of Imogen is more specific:
“Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the East;
My father hath a reason for’t[610].”
The meaning probably is, “Lay his head to face the East”; although the
other interpretation, “Head directed to East, feet to West,” is
possible. At any rate the passage clearly shows that the orientation of
graves was assumed by the poet to have been observed, even in the
solitudes.
A scrap of quaint, but illuminating, evidence comes from the folk-lore
of Wales, where the East wind is called “the wind of the dead men’s
feet[611].” Nor is the practice of orienting graves confined to Britain.
A Scandinavian folk-story makes the grave-diggers, either through stress
of bad weather, or “out of mischief,” bury an unpopular person, one Jón
Flak, in a grave dug North and South. Every night the dead man haunted
the grave-diggers and repeated this verse:
“Cold’s the mould at choir-back,
Cowers beneath it Jón Flak,
Other men lie East and West,
Every one but Jón Flak,
Every one but Jón Flak.”
And no rest was obtained until the body was taken up and buried in the
proper position[612]. A study of comparative customs will, however,
furnish us with departures from the British plan, although haphazard
alinements seem to be exceptional. Thus, some Australian tribes allow
the head to front the West, others the East. The Samoans, the Fijians,
and the North American Indians place the head to the East; this was also
the practice of the Peruvians. Some South American tribes and the old
Ainus of Yesso made their dead face the sunrise[613]. Plainly, while all
these instances involve alinement of the corpse, they illustrate the two
opposing ideas mentioned in the last chapter,--that of darkness and
death, connected with sunset, and that of resurrection and new life,
typified by sunrise. Sir Thomas Browne, in his _Hydriotaphia_, remarks:
“The Persians lay North and South: the Megarians and Phoenicians placed
their heads to the East; the Athenians, some think, towards the West,
which Christians still retain. And Beda will have it to be the posture
of our Saviour[614].”
Various Greek authors attest the practice of orienting graves before the
time of Solon (died _c._ B.C. 558)[615]. Setting this evidence aside,
and restricting the inquiry chiefly to our own country, we have good
reason to believe that there has been continuity of custom from the
Saxon period at least. Mr Romilly Allen asserts that the East-to-West
position was usual in the early days of Christianity. Further it was
formerly suggested by Mr Reginald A. Smith that, wherever East-to-West
graves are met with in Saxon cemeteries, they indicate the burial-places
of Christians, in contrast to the tombs of the heathen. But the
discoveries at Mitcham, in Surrey, of a large number of skeletons
carefully orientated, break the rule, since Mr Smith himself shows that
the burials were of pre-Saxon date, while the associated relics point to
pagan interment. Again, a cemetery which was discovered at the Roman
“level” in Bishopsgate Street, London, contained bodies laid East and
West. Since no pagan objects were associated with the skeletons, we may
perhaps conjecture that the burials were those of Christians[616]. But
the most common position of skeletons in Roman cemeteries, according to
Wright, is found to be East and West; usually, though by no means
always, the feet are towards the East[617]. This generalization must now
be considered too confident. There is the further complication that some
of the cemeteries contain burnt, as well as unburnt bodies, suggesting a
mingling of pagan and Christian burials.
We next take the pre-Roman period. Two examples from France will serve
to illustrate one stage. A cemetery at Charvais, belonging to the
earliest Iron Age, contained more than seventy graves, all but two or
three of which were so oriented that the head lay at the West end[618].
Out of five graves excavated at Pleurs, in the department of Marne,
three exhibited a like arrangement[619]. Examples might be multiplied,
so far as the Continent is concerned; the position of the skeleton in
English interments of the Iron Age unfortunately seems not to have been
much noted by investigators. Even the excellent _Guide to the
Antiquities of the Early Iron Age_ does not furnish much information
about British orientation, the main cause, doubtless, being the neglect
of the excavators to record such details. One remarkable interment, at
Kilham, near Driffield, in the East Riding, is worthy of notice. The
grave contained the remains of a man, with the head placed at the West
end; on each side of the body a goat had been laid, with a similar
orientation[620]. Mr J. R. Mortimer, who, in 1897, conducted a series
of excavations at Kilham, gave this summary respecting the disposition
of the skeletons. Of twenty burials, eleven bodies had the head towards
the North, five towards the South, and only four West[621]. At the
Late-Celtic cemetery at Harlyn Bay, Cornwall, the majority of the
skeletons, which were contracted, lay on their left sides, and faced the
East. This evidence, which might be supplemented, plainly shows that the
placing of corpses East and West was not uniformly observed during the
Early Iron Age.
But we must widen the scope of the inquiry, for it is necessary to
remember that the round barrows of the Bronze and Aeneolithic periods,
and the long barrows of the Neolithic Age, were nothing but huge graves.
Mr Mortimer’s excavations in the round barrows of Yorkshire led him to
the conclusion, that, while no rule could be formulated concerning the
alinement of the body, “the most prevalent position of the head [was] to
the West and the East[622].” Canon Greenwell’s explorations revealed a
like absence of regularity in the position of round-barrow skeletons,
though the tables which he furnishes indicate a tendency to an
East-and-West approximation. One of his results is of great interest. He
found that, wherever the head of the skeleton pointed, roughly speaking,
towards the West, the body had generally been laid on its right side;
where the head was towards the East, the body was usually resting on its
left side[623]. The inference has therefore been drawn that the corpse
was made to face, not merely the sun, but the position of the sun in the
sky at the time of burial. This opinion has been widely held until
recent years, but it is now becoming customary to heap ridicule upon
it[624]. The scoffers should, however, in fairness, consider collateral
testimony.
First, it is well to note an actual record of careful orientations. For
example, it is not contested that, in the round barrows of Wiltshire
there is a strong tendency for the body to face the South[625]. If the
theory just mentioned be correct, the corpse had, in the Wiltshire
graves, been placed with the face towards the midday sun, implying a
possible, but not demonstrable intention, with some fixity of custom.
General Pitt-Rivers, who believed that the Saxons arranged the body with
the head towards the rising sun, examined 31 Saxon graves at Winkelbury.
He discovered that, while the skeleton was always alined towards an
Eastern point, the exact axis varied from E. 19° S. to E. 28° N., but
was usually towards the North. Supposing that his theory were valid, he
admitted, with great candour, that all but two of the bodies must, from
their positions, have been buried in summer. Here, again, we meet a
possible, but certainly not provable, adherence to a custom.
Let us now look at Mr Mortimer’s valuable tables, which are found on the
page of his book to which reference has just been made. From an
examination of 383 interments, Mr Mortimer obtained these results:
Bodies lying on the right side 178
“ “ “ left side 103
“ “ “ back 68
“ “ “ chest 3
Position not known 31
The 31 unascertained positions must be ignored. The 71 instances in
which the body lay on its back or chest are obviously testimony against
the “face-to-sun” hypothesis. Moreover, of the 281 remaining cases, only
61 will be found to have the head pointing North-East, South-East, or in
intermediate directions. At first sight, this summary is fatal to the
theory. But the question is not easily settled. Other details must be
known concerning each individual interment, and these are, to some
extent, lacking. It is evident that a corpse may occupy any one of
numerous linear positions, and may lie on either its right or left side,
and yet face the sun at some time of the day. For the sun constantly
changes its position in the course of its daily journey, and also alters
its points of rising and setting. The consequence is, that a body lying
on its left side might have its head directed to any point from
North-East round to North-West approximately, and nevertheless face the
sun. If we do not know the season, or the hour, of the interment, we
cannot assert that the corpse did not so face the sun. Similarly, if the
deceased tribesman were placed on his right side, he might, broadly
speaking, occupy any position from East round to West, and yet fulfil
the condition. Now the tables show that 245 out of the 281 bodies might
conceivably have been laid as the theory supposes. Mr Mortimer gives
Greenwell’s list for comparison: it supplies details of 234 bodies. Of
these bodies, 112 lay on the right side, and 122 on the left--there is
no reference to other positions. An inspection of the columns reveals
that about 200 cases might support the “face-to-sun” theory.
It would be highly undesirable to press the facts further than is
necessary to appeal for a suspended verdict. The “face-to-sun”
hypothesis was never meant to be more than a possible explanation, but
it has the virtue of accounting for many instances in which the skeleton
lies, not due East and West, or North and South, but obliquely, at some
intermediate horizon. And, at least, the alinement of the head, if not
the face, towards the sun, is not peculiarly a British feature of
prehistoric burials. Among the Tlingits, or Tlinkits, of South Alaska,
the corpse was buried with the head towards the sun, so as to allow the
soul of the deceased person to return; if the body were laid in the
contrary direction, the spirit could never come back. Professor Frazer,
who records this custom, asserts that other totemistic peoples inter
their dead, according to fixed rules, with the head towards particular
points of the compass. Professor E. B. Tylor has also collected abundant
testimony corroborative of such customs. In places widely sundered
geographically there has existed a strong desire to bury the dead “in
the path of the sun[626].” Recently, too, Dr A. W. Howitt has
discovered, just in time, at the Australian station of Wotjo, an
isolated tribe which still preserves the custom. The arrangement of the
head of the corpse is determined by the class and totem of the deceased
person, and the direction is fixed by reference to the rising sun. The
practice is nearing extinction, for, although Dr Howitt was able to
secure sufficient information from the natives to construct a kind of
burial compass, they could give him no reason for the varying
dispositions. The only explanation proffered was: “Oh, that is what our
fathers told us.” Such a man was buried in such a way because he was
“nearer to us” than the others[627]. The folk-memory of this tribe will
soon become a mere echo of tradition, and the task of reconstructing
these primitive burial customs will grow increasingly difficult as each
aboriginal patch of the earth’s surface becomes influenced by
civilization.
Respecting graves themselves, we readily perceive that a round barrow,
from its very nature, cannot be normally oriented. But in the British
long barrows, usually accepted as the earlier kind, the long axis
generally runs East and West. The broader end of the mound, where the
sepulchral deposit is, as a rule, discovered, is directed towards the
East[628]. So that, during the Neolithic period, some broad principle of
orientation was observed, the constraining motive being probably
connected with sun-worship.
Orientation in barrow burials having been considered, one is easily led
to discuss an allied subject, in part connected with interments, in part
not so strictly related, yet tinged with like primitive ideas. This
topic is the orientation of megaliths and ancient earthworks, and it has
been so prominently put forward by Sir Norman Lockyer that no
archaeologist can pretend to be alert and watchful who has not, to some
extent, followed the discussion. Hence a notice, however slight and
imperfect, is demanded. Sir Norman Lockyer has made careful
triangulations and measurements in connection with the prehistoric
monuments of Cornwall, Wiltshire, and other counties, and his general
conclusion is, that the axes of these monuments, and their mutual
geographical relations, were carefully determined by their constructors.
The assumption having been made that the monuments were originally
alined to sunrise, the problem has been to calculate when that
arrangement could have existed, because now, owing to the alteration of
the inclination of the earth’s equator with regard to the ecliptic, the
solstitial points have considerably shifted their positions. Stonehenge,
which Sir Norman Lockyer considers to have been a solstitial temple, was
accurately alined by astronomical means when erected. He believes that
the original alinement of the circles was adapted (_c._ B.C. 2200) to a
“farmer’s year,” May to November; but that, about B.C. 1600, a new cult
was introduced, probably from Egypt, and the lines of orientation were
changed to harmonize with a June-to-December year[629]. The
investigation has also been applied to other monuments, and it is
claimed that not only can we determine to what star a particular
megalith was originally oriented, but, as a consequence of this
determination, we can discover the approximate date also of the erection
of the stones[630]. To any one who, like the present writer, is not a
skilled practical astronomer, the evidence is difficult to handle, for
the actual observations and measurements must, of necessity, be
implicitly accepted. Yet, on general grounds, one cannot avoid the
thought that the assumptions are not self-evidently true, and that even
if this were the case, the theory is pushed much further than seems
reasonable. These objections have been raised by several writers, and
the views of Sir Norman Lockyer have been exposed to severe, and,
apparently, disintegrating criticism[631]. It is but fair to add that
these rebutting arguments have been met by rejoinders, though of varying
value. Do we urge that the theory, with the minute measurements which it
involves, presupposes too high a state of culture for those early times,
too deep a knowledge of astronomy, too complicated a system of religion
or worship? We are met by the enunciation of another hypothesis, that
the Druids of Caesar’s time, admittedly men of some learning, were the
descendants of astronomer-priests of a more ancient British
civilization[632]. Do we ask for proof of re-orientation, as a result of
the immigration of a new race of men? We are thrown back on a further
series of intricate astronomical data, reinforced by similar details
relating to Egyptian temples. It may be that the objector has some
misgivings as to the exactitude of the orientation of these very
temples--that is a small matter--but he would like to know the reason
for placing our rough, unhewn cromlechs and menhirs in the same
category. To the general archaeologist, the comparison between our rude
“amorpholiths” and an elaborate Eastern temple is not just. Such a
person asks questions about the instruments which the builders of the
megaliths may have used in their observations, about the possible
obstacles which may have blocked out of view portions of the horizon,
about the difficulty in ascertaining which standard line was used, where
all the monoliths are so crude and irregular. Again, which was
considered the time of sunrise--the moment when the sun’s rim peeped
above the horizon, or when his centre was clearly visible? Each position
has been assumed, the one in England, the other in Egypt. In the ages
when not even the Julian calendar had been invented, could primitive
folk know, for certain, the exact date of the solstice? In England, the
sun rises on the slant: where was the observer’s eye placed in relation
to that oblique line? In one Cornish instance, at least, it has been
asserted that the stones from which the alinement had been taken cannot
be seen from the central group of stones[633]. And of Sidbury Hill,
which was deemed so important in the Stonehenge measurements, Dr T. Rice
Holmes declares that it cannot be seen from that monument, only the
trees on its summit being visible[634].
Somewhat in accord with the conclusions of Sir Norman Lockyer, but by no
means in total agreement, are the theories propounded by the Rev. J. W.
Hayes, of West Thurrock. Mr Hayes, who has made a close study of
stone-circles, especially with regard to their use in Gorseddau and
other assemblies, has kindly permitted me to read his unpublished
papers, and to glean therefrom such information as is germane to the
present question. It is manifestly impossible to give more than the
briefest summary of the evidence, or to enumerate the miscellaneous
documents, written and printed, which Mr Hayes has consulted. The
leading idea is, that the stone-circles were first erected to serve as
indicators of seasons. By means of these “dials,” the priestly caste
determined the times of fasts and feasts. In spring, there were
sacrifices to ensure bountiful crops. Before entering upon a war, there
were offerings to propitiate the gods and thus to win success. A
comparison is made between the old festivals and our own Easter--itself
a pagan feast originally, and still depending on the moon for the exact
date of its observance. Analogies are also drawn from the customs of the
Jews, the Romans, and the Egyptians. The outstanding menhirs connected
with stone-circles are considered to have been intended to provide
sight-lines, while the trilithons of Stonehenge, it is suggested, marked
out sky-spaces. It is interesting to note, in passing, that Professor W.
Gowland has recorded the use of wooden trilithons by modern Japanese
sun-worshippers, for determining the position of the sun and of sacred
objects.
It will be inferred that Mr Hayes’s theory makes the sacrificial use of
the circles subsidiary to a primary astronomical and judicial purpose.
Yet he takes note that the old Irish name for a cromlech--the accepted
term among modern writers for a “stone-ring”--was _siorcal leacht_, or
“circle-stone-of-death.” In old Irish manuscripts such circles are
always associated with pagan priests or druids. The sepulchral aspect of
stone-circles, however, seems to be largely ignored by the modern school
of investigators.
Mr Hayes lays stress upon a singular fact, the true explanation of which
has long been an enigma--the frequent occurrence of a definite number of
pillars in the stone-ring. Nine is not an uncommon number in England,
though it is recorded from Ireland and Germany. (The stones of the Nine
Maidens, near St Columb Major, in Cornwall, form a row, not a circle.)
The cromlechs of Boscawen-ûn and the Dawns Mên, in Cornwall, of
Whitemoorstone Down, Dartmoor, as well as the inner “horseshoe” at
Stonehenge, have nineteen uprights. Thirty, again, is the tale of some
circles, as in the outer ring of sarsens at Stonehenge. The group of
nine is puzzling, but the arrangement of nineteen is held to represent
the metonic, Indian, or lunar cycle of the astronomers. After the lapse
of nineteen years, the sun and moon occupy relatively the same positions
as at the commencement of the cycle, so that full moon and new moon
recur on the same days of the months as before. Whether this
astronomical explanation of the number nineteen can be proved or not,
one curious feature deserves notice. The circles which show nineteen
stones have a gap towards the East, and no explorations have hitherto
brought a twentieth stone to light.
It further appears that the old Gorsedd circles (p. 98 _supra_)
consisted of twelve stones, set 30° apart, and said to represent the
twelve signs of the Zodiac. The circles reared at the annual Eisteddfod
by the neo-Druidic cult are arranged similarly. Besides the twelve
pillars, three outstanding menhirs were fixed at the North-East, East,
and South-East respectively so that the sun’s rays at the solstices, or
the equinoxes, as might be, fell on the central stone, or “chair” within
the circle. And, by a strange coincidence--or is it due to
imitation?--another plan of the Gorsedd circle, as preserved in ancient
manuscripts, gives nineteen stones, with a gap towards the East. In this
case, eight outstanding pillars were erected, so as to indicate, by
shadows or rays, (1) the summer and winter solstices, (2) the old
May-December agricultural year, (3) the equinoxes, and, possibly, (4)
other solar and lunar periods.
The weakness in the foregoing theories seems to lie in the assumption,
up to the present unproved, that the primary purpose of the cromlechs
was to serve as places of assembly. True, the convocations are supposed
to have been hedged with much ceremony, to which the stones were
accessory. But, dealing with circles, are we not liable to argue in a
circle? Until the prime purpose of the cromlechs is ascertained, the
student is forced back like the turnspit in _Hudibras_:
“And still he’s in the selfsame place
Where, at his setting out, he was.”
Were the stone-rings first erected for worship, and did the later
conveners of Gorseddau, retaining faint memories of ancient usages,
cling to the traditional system of orientation and astronomical
measurement? Or were the cromlechs primarily intended for open-air
meetings, which were afterwards invested by the priests with a religious
character? Or, again, were the circles first of all astronomical, and
the assemblies, features of later times? Minor theories may be
neglected, although, in the present condition of the evidence, even
these might claim recognition.
Setting aside the modern Druidical ceremonies, as having a parentage no
older than the sixteenth or seventeenth century, there remain the more
ancient Gorseddau. The evidence regarding these, for the past 1500
years, notably with respect to the practice of orientation and the use
of “pointers” to indicate the seasons, is weighty, and cannot be ignored
by the impartial student. But the grand difficulty remains. We cannot
yet bridge over the interval between oral tradition and written history,
between the builders of the Bronze and Early Iron Ages and the bards of
the Arthurian period. It is quite possible that folk-memory was
effective during that dim period, but it is equally possible that the
cromlechs became gradually diverted from their original purpose, whether
sepulchral, astronomical, or other. This diversion would be a natural
process when the functions of priest and lawgiver became more
differentiated. The religious ceremonies which accompanied legislative
and judicial meetings would tend to conceal the change which had
occurred.
Sir Norman Lockyer considers the whole question of Gorsedd circles so
important, that, in the second edition of his work (1909), he has
devoted a special chapter to the subject. Should it be finally
established, beyond cavil, that Gorsedd circles have been frequently
erected throughout the period which extends from the fifth century of
our era until the present day, there will be a fair claim for
continuity, if not of function, yet of habit, from prehistoric times.
But there will also arise a grave suspicion whether some of the
cromlechs, hitherto ascribed to prehistoric peoples, may not, after all,
be the more permanent Gorsedd circles of a later date. We cannot forget
the misleading stone-circle set up at Pontypridd no farther back than
fifty years ago, by the “Arch-Druid” of that time, Myfyr Morganwg (or
Myvyr Morgannwg); nor the sham “Druidic structure,” raised in the
neighbourhood of Pateley Bridge, in Yorkshire, about thirty years
previously.
Having uttered these objections, and having implied the necessity of
slow-moving circumspection, one cannot think that the boundary of
knowledge has yet been reached. Frequently, excavations reveal little
more evidence than was already suspected after critical external
examination. If then the archaeologist and the astronomer can find
agreement in common premisses, the theodolite may indeed help the spade
and atone for its limitations. While feeling persuaded that our
megalithic monuments were never alined with such nicety that the
orientation can be expressed in seconds, one can still understand that
they may have been set out with greater accuracy than is commonly
supposed. When we recollect, too, that many of our megaliths had at
first probably a sepulchral purpose, we shall see no sufficient reason
why they should not have been planned, at any rate, as skilfully as
funeral earthworks.
The Rev. J. Griffith, indeed, carries the orientation theory further,
and applies it to primitive earthworks of a general character--those
which are popularly known as camps and forts. Speaking of Burrington
Camp, Somerset, he claims that its Southern bank is oriented to the
equinox, and that another bank corresponds both to the sunset line at
the summer solstice, and to sunrise at the winter solstice. He adds that
the star alinement of this earthwork has been “worked out” by Sir Norman
Lockyer to Arcturus. Castle Dyke, near Aysgarth, Yorkshire, gives
indications of an alinement either to Alpha Centauri or to Capella[635].
These much-canvassed theories have led us away from our highroad, yet
the digression was really slight, seeing that many of our megaliths mark
the position of early burial-places. It is not asserted that all our
ancient stone monuments are of this character, but some, at least, of
those which are claimed as “temples,” were primarily graves; hence they
come under our survey. Here, too, it seems fitting to notice another
matter, dependent to some extent on the orientation of graves, and
illustrative of the persistency of unconscious folk-memory.
The modern sexton, having filled up the grave, banks up the surplus soil
in the form of a long, neatly-finished mound. Is there any obvious
reason why he should do this, instead of spreading out the remaining
earth until all is level? The explanation of positive necessity is not
admissible: I have noticed one churchyard in which mounds are not
raised, just as, in two or three other instances, all the tombstones are
laid in a horizontal position. The popular belief, if it is found to
exist, ascribes the mound to an economical cause--the advantage of
banking up some soil to prevent the shallow depression which is the
after result of subsidence. But this does not account for the oblong
mound with curved ends--a shape which does not altogether correspond
with that of the pit which is being closed. Nor does it explain the
careful turfing-over which sometimes follows, nor the masonry or coped
tombstone which is frequently designed to preserve the accepted form of
the mound.
The only satisfactory answer to the question, so far as competent
authorities have yet discovered, is that the modern grave-mound is the
shrunken representative of the long barrow, the features having been
retained because of the inertia of social custom, and because inveterate
imitation is easier than new experiment. It is noteworthy that the
modern mound is often so large as to be unsightly. The size is
especially increased in places where, as in the little Huguenot burying
ground at Wandsworth, the pile is surmounted by a “box” tomb of brick or
stone. (These mounds are not, however, comparable in size to that of
Chislehurst, p. 76 _supra_.) To the late Mr Grant Allen belongs, I
believe, the chief credit for the barrow theory, the conclusion having
been forced upon him by long study of the comparative burial customs of
primitive folk[636]. Thomas Wright had earlier classed the Saxon barrow
as the prototype of the modern grave-mound; and, in the eighteenth
century, Hearne had remarked, concerning tumuli and churchyards: “But
now the straitness of [churchyards] will not permit such _aggeres
consecratos_, as some terme them, to be made there.”
The proposed interpretation involves the assumption that the practice of
barrow-burial, in the sense of raising a tumulus of some kind over the
dead, has never completely died out in our country. Link by link, as we
pass onwards from the Neolithic period, through the Bronze and Iron
Ages, and include the Romans, Saxons, and Danes in our survey, we
discover that this claim can be made good. The chief difference between
the ancient practice and that of our own day lies in the fact that
mound-burial is now almost universal, at least throughout our country,
while in former ages it was not quite so general. One may hazard the
opinion that mound-burial may have been markedly the exception in
prehistoric times. The great ones of the land were truly laid under
these earthen monuments, but in what manner the great masses of the
poorer folk were buried we may never know. Perhaps these humbler members
of the community were interred in much the same way as nearly the whole
of the present population may expect to be interred; that is, a hole was
dug in the ground, and perhaps a tiny tumulus was heaped above the
buried corpse. But the mound was not always raised, especially when
cremation came into fashion. The question need not be here complicated
by a consideration of the evolution of the coffin, since some remarks
will be made on this subject later. An instance or two will tend to
confirm the opinion just expressed. Dr T. Rice Holmes has collected
numerous records to show that there were moundless graves during the
Bronze Age[637]. Such graves were dug in caverns, or sunk on the chalk
downs, or in other soils near a settlement. Doubtless, other examples
remain yet to be discovered. The reader will, however, note that, except
in the case of caves, the original absence of a mound cannot always be
absolutely proven; the forces of Nature, aided by the plough, may have
obliterated the external signs of burial. During the Early Iron Age,
mounds appear to have been even less general than in the preceding
period. Thus, several pit-burials have been recorded from Hagbourne
Hill, near Didcot, Berkshire[638], and from the celebrated “urn-field”
at Aylesford, Kent, which dates from _c._ B.C. 50[639]. For the
intervening Roman period, there is no need to cite examples, since they
abound, and of the Anglo-Saxon burials, it may be sufficient to state
that in various localities (Cambridge, Northampton, Gloucester,
Wiltshire), groups of graves have been found in such close proximity
that the tumuli, if they ever existed, must have been of small
dimensions[640].
All through these centuries, nevertheless, barrow-burial had persisted.
Nay, more, the barrows were often collected in groups, representing the
prototypes of our modern cemeteries. The classic example of such
clusters is seen in the barrows around Stonehenge; within a circuit of
three miles it is said that there are about three hundred barrows[641].
Another illuminating record is that of the collection of barrows known
as the Danes’ Graves, near Kilham, on the Wolds of Yorkshire. Not fewer
than 500 graves once existed here, “massed together as in a modern
churchyard, not isolated as in the Bronze period[642].” Mr J. R.
Mortimer found that the burial-mounds of East Yorkshire fell readily
into clusters, some of which contained so many as thirty or more
individual barrows. From Mr Mortimer’s conclusion that the ground-plans
of these groups agree with the outlines of certain of the heavenly
constellations, notably with that of Charles’s Wain, we must, however,
withhold assent. The Stonehenge barrows are grouped, not actually
“massed.” Other groups of tumuli might be given; we will merely mention
those interesting cases where one or two large barrows are connected
with collections of tiny mounds; the smaller ones, perhaps, representing
the resting-place of the poorer tribesmen[643]. It would be safe to
assert that most of the small barrows have ere now been long levelled
down. Of the larger mounds not a tithe of the original number remains.
The clusters of barrows, one may consider, led indirectly to the
Christian cemeteries. At first, as stated in a sermon by St Chrysostom
(A.D. 403), the Christian communities had their cemeteries outside the
walls of cities[644]. Interment in churchyards was not a primitive
practice, and was prohibited by the decrees of early church councils.
The custom gradually crept into use about the sixth century[645], the
innovation appearing first in connection with monastic settlements. By
the time of St Cuthbert (_c._ A.D. 742) the practice was becoming well
known, the bones of pious men and martyrs being actually admitted within
the building itself[646]. To such an extent did the practice grow, that
the floors of churches often became too uneven for walking over. As a
parenthesis, we note that the early ban against churchyard burial must
not be interpreted as contradicting the probability of the building of
churches near older Christian cemeteries.
Scandinavia was apparently in a state of transition from barrow burial
to small-mound burial at a later date, namely, during the Viking Age
(A.D. 700-1000). At that period it became the habit to make low barrows
for the poorer folk, the “warrior houes” being reserved for the families
of powerful chieftains[647]. And one cannot doubt that the collaterals
of the Scandinavians--the Anglo-Saxons--developed their burial customs
along similar lines. In addition, it must be remembered that these
latter peoples, when settled in England, had a marked predilection for
burial in the older and larger barrows which they found already in
existence. Such “secondary burials” are familiar to the archaeologist,
and are discriminated by the level and posture of the skeletons, as well
as by the associated objects. When the conversion of the people to
Christianity became more general, such practices were discountenanced.
Down to the eighth century, however, it was usual to bury the
illegitimate offspring of nuns and others in these older mounds.
The Capitularies of Charlemagne (A.D. 789) order the burial of
Christians in cemeteries, and expressly forbid the pagan practice of
barrow-burial: “_Jubemus, ut corpora Christianorum Saxonum ad
coemiteria_ [al. _coemeteria_] _Ecclesiae deferantur, et non ad tumulos
paganorum_[648].” The burial-ground soon became known in Germany as
“Gottes-acker” (God’s Acre). This change, too, completed the break
between cremation and simple burial of the corpse. Orientation of graves
now became a fixed rule. Keysler suggests, and his view has since been
largely upheld, that the transfer of custom was due to the doctrine of
the Resurrection, as epitomized in I Cor. xv. 5 et seqq. and St John
xii. 24[649]. In other words, the new religion discouraged cremation,
and enjoined simple earth burial, thus curiously reviving the primitive
habit (cf. p. 264 _infra_).
If we desire, to-day, to see folk who represent the transitional stage
of culture which connects the large tumulus with the smaller and more
insignificant mound, we may visit the natives of the Pandsh valley, in
the district of the Pamirs. Recently it has been discovered by Olufsen
that these “equine-faced” folk raise a burial-mound over the dead, and
surround it by high stones or a clay wall, according to the social
standing, riches, or holiness of the deceased man[650]. The
distinctions of rank have ever been preserved by the tomb, in spite of
proverbial wisdom.
Reverting to the “mould’ring heap” of which Gray sings in his _Elegy_,
it may fairly be asked why the mound should be long and not round. A
decisive answer cannot be tendered. It is worth considering,
nevertheless, whether this shape does not represent a “throw-back” to
Neolithic custom. The round barrows which fell under the Christian ban
enclosed the relics of burnt or partially burnt bodies. The long
barrows, which, with some possible exceptions[651], are believed to be
of earlier date, were raised over corpses which had not been cremated.
Now, if it be true, as Mr Grant Allen supposed, that the shape of the
circular tumulus was determined by the cinerary urn around which it was
piled, while the form of the long barrow depended on the subjacent
chambered tomb--the underground home or palace of the dead
person[652]--we begin to see a glimmer of light. For the subterranean
chamber, being intended to hold an uncremated corpse, would be roughly
adapted to the form of the human body. In like manner, when inhumation
was again enforced, there would be an unconscious return to the use of
the long mound. As if to show once more that no rule is of universal
application, certain exceptions must be recorded. In some village
churchyards, a few round mounds are interspersed with the long ones.
Occasionally, the round mounds may be explained by the division of a
long mound caused by the tread of careless feet, repeated throughout
several generations. That this is not always the reason, is plain to the
observant eye. Do these mounds represent the graves of children, or of
unbaptized infants? On the Sussex coast, the graves of drowned sailors
are said to be thus distinguished. Once again, why should it be
customary, as in some churchyards of Dorsetshire and the Isle of Wight,
to make the long mounds of unusual size?
A fact of some little interest, though it has no scientific bearing on
our theme, is that the late Professor Tyndall’s grave, in Haslemere
churchyard, Surrey, is a round tumulus, clad with bracken and heather.
The memorial took this unpretentious form in accordance with the
expressed wish of the philosopher himself. Through the kindness of Miss
Truda Hutchinson, I am enabled to give an illustration (Fig. 51) of the
mound. For the purpose of comparison, a round barrow situated at
Henley-on-Thames is shown (Fig. 52).
[Illustration: FIG. 51. Tyndall’s grave, Haslemere churchyard, Surrey. A
modern round barrow.]
We have seen that orientation, as we know it, was not strictly observed
in the burials of prehistoric folk, while, in our day, it is all but
universal. Contrariwise, what was originally a common feature--the
placing of the corpse in a crouched or sitting posture--is now decidedly
exceptional, being restricted to the
[Illustration: FIG. 52. Round barrow, Henley-on-Thames, Oxfordshire.]
burials of very eccentric or very pious persons[653]. Interment in an
upright position has not, however, been of infrequent occurrence. Ben
Jonson was so buried at Westminster. The case of the Hobarts, who are
buried in a brickwork vault at Blickling, Norfolk, is also often cited.
The vertical position was formerly adopted for the interment of captains
in the army[654]. The body of Clement Spelman, Recorder of Nottingham,
was immured (A.D. 1679) in a pillar in Narburgh church[655]. Many other
curious vagaries of custom might be given; one or two instances must
suffice. Surrey folk are familiar with Leith Hill Tower, under which lie
the remains of Mr Richard Hull, who died in 1772, and whose peculiar
opinions led him to stipulate burial in this elevated region[656]. In
another instance, a corpse was buried within a flint pyramid at the top
of a fir-clad hill near Great Missenden, in Buckinghamshire. A chapter
might easily be filled with such particulars, but enough has been said
to show that, amid all these eccentricities of habit, there is often an
unwitting reversion to primitive methods. The similarities have been
revealed only by the labours of the barrow-digger and the antiquary. Not
only has the practice of orientation been found to have a very ancient
descent, but many quaint usages, ofttimes deemed abnormal, have proved
to be genuine survivals. In the next chapter some of these survivals
will be considered. Not a little pathos is associated with our knowledge
of these details. Bones which had “quietly rested under the drums and
tramplings of three conquests,” have been unromantically disturbed by
the busy archaeologist, and compelled to yield their secret. One cannot
withhold sympathy from the investigator who had obtained permission to
open a certain barrow, but who pondered and procrastinated, viewing,
with indulgent eye, the even outline of the grassy mound. Day by day his
pity for the sleeping warrior increased, and he hesitated to thrust his
spade into the wind-swept turf, until the opportunity for work had
slipped away. One admires the spirit, yet to widen the limits of
knowledge that spirit has to be sadly, though judiciously, corrected.