In considering how far these lingering customs may represent real

survivals, it will be of some assistance to collect examples showing to

what extent the horse cult was observed in the ceremonial routine of the

ancient Celts and Teutons. In the first place, we are struck by the

respect which was paid to white horses in particular. Tacitus, in a

familiar passage, asserts that the German tribes kept milk-white horses

in consecrated woods and groves[1166]. From these horses, which were

never degraded by being put to any kind of labour, warnings and auguries

were received by the priestly caste. Grimm tells us that there existed,

at Drontheim, temples in which sacred horses were kept and fed[1167].

Other peoples have betrayed a similar affection for the white horse.

Such animals, Virgil relates, are not usually put to work, since they

are beloved of the gods; it is criminal to kill or wound them, except

for sacrifice. Herodotus describes how the sacred white horses of the

Persians were drowned when Cyrus was endeavouring to cross the river

Gyndes[1168]. The same writer states that, in his day, Russia teemed

with white horses[1169]. White was pre-eminently the noble colour. In

the Apocalypse, a white horse is symbolical of victory and

triumph[1170]. This idea is also common among classical writers[1171].

The figure of a white horse appeared on the Standard of the Saxons, and

later, in the arms of Saxony and the House of Brunswick. In our day, a

white horse constitutes the Kentish emblem, and is popular as a tavern

sign. The celebrated “White Horse” carved on the Chalk downs near

Uffington, Berkshire, and its fellow, incised on Bratton Hill, near

Westbury, Wiltshire, though usually believed to commemorate victories

over the Danes, are more probably to be referred to the Late Bronze, or

Early Iron Age. In each case, the neighbouring country abounds with

prehistoric remains--earthworks, barrows, and trackways[1172]. Certain

details of the carvings, such as the bird-like head of the Uffington

Horse, and the crescentic tail of the original, but now destroyed,

“Horse” of Bratton, have been compared with corresponding features on

early British coins[1173]. These coins were probably debased

representations of the gold stater of Philip II. of Macedon. In modern

times, other intaglios have been cut on our hillsides; these, while

reviving the practice, have introduced breeds of horses unknown to the

Britons. This seems a fitting place to observe that we have some

indication of horse figures in Late-Celtic ornament. On a Late-Celtic

bucket (_c._ first century B.C.) unearthed near Marlborough, in 1807,

and enclosing burnt human bones, curious representations of the horse

were carved[1174]. Belonging to about the same period are the queer

horse-like figures depicted on a bronze-mounted wooden bucket, coming

from the Late-Celtic cemetery of Aylesford, Kent[1175]. And, to conclude

this section of our subject, we will note that the Anglo-Saxon tumulus

in Taplow churchyard, Bucks. (cf. p. 81 _supra_), yielded portions of a

bucket decorated with horseshoe symbols[1176]. We find representations

of supposed horses appearing later on church fonts; the celebrated

eleventh-century font of Burnsall, in Wharfedale, will serve as an

example[1177].

Our discussion of the white horse has carried us far afield, and may

have momentarily masked the general question. Not white horses alone

were used in sacrifice and divination. The sacrifice of any horse was a

most solemn event, attended with much ceremony, alike among Persians and

Indians, among Teutons, Finns and Slavs[1178]. In auguries, too, the

animal bore an honoured part. The Greeks, Strabo informs us, deemed the

neighing of a horse an omen of good[1179]. In Germany, divinations by

means of the horse lasted till the seventh century, for, when St Gall

died,

[Illustration: FIG. 87. Capturing the White Horse. In this scene the

artist depicts an imaginary incident in connection with the legend of

the “White Horse of Kent.” The animal, which is of a rather idealized

strain, has broken the cords of the captors, and remains “Invictus.”]

unbroken horses were charged with the burden of his coffin, and to their

decision was entrusted the choice of a burial-place[1180]. In Denmark,

horse-sacrifices lingered until the early part of the eleventh century;

a specific instance is given by Keysler, on the authority of the

historian Dithmar, who was the Bishop of Mersburg, or Merseburg, and who

died A.D. 1028. Dithmar relates that the Danes were wont to celebrate

the Feast of the Epiphany by sacrificing ninety human victims, together

with an equal number of dogs and cocks, in order to appease the infernal

deities[1181]. The custom indicates a not infrequent kind of early

compromise. Kemble states that, although bulls are known to have been

used for divination in England, he knows of no allusion to augury by

means of horses[1182]. A few faint traces, however, suggestive of the

horse cult, may be detected. There is, for example, that curious story,

told by Bede, how the priest Coifi rode on a stallion when he went to

destroy the images in the heathen temple at Godmundingham (now

Goodmanham) in Yorkshire[1183] (cf. p. 32 _supra_). As Bede’s narrative

runs its length, we learn that a high priest among the pagan Saxons

might lawfully ride only on a mare[1184], and one is inclined to

speculate whether any of the idols took the form of this animal. We know

that the stallion was the most honoured among horses[1185], and it is

expressly stated that, when Coifi borrowed the king’s stallion, he did

so in contempt of his former superstitions. The change of steed, at any

rate, coincided with an onslaught upon established custom, and we shall

see later that the priestly rule about riding mares only was abandoned.

Another vestige of the horse cult was the belief, common among Teutonic

peoples, that the last wisp of corn in the harvest field was inhabited

by the sacred horse. For this reason, a horse, representing the

corn-god, was customarily slaughtered, and eaten with special rites by

the reapers at the harvest supper. Professor Frazer describes some

quaint harvest customs, prevalent in Hertfordshire and Shropshire, which

furnish examples of the corn-spirit, appearing in the shape of a horse

or mare. And, again, in his recent work, _Totemism and Exogamy_, he

records the Red Indian practice of sacrificing costly horses to appease

the “medicine” or corn-spirit[1186].

Underlying such observances as those which have been described, there is

an idea which gives a clue to a much-discussed problem. Folk of our

generation are continually asking why the flesh of such a clean-feeding

animal as the horse--a true vegetarian--should be despised as food. The

question is not indeed altogether of recent date, for it was propounded

in A.D. 1720 by Keysler, who reviews the subject at some length[1187].

He contends that the stringent prohibition must not be credited to the

influence of the Mosaic Law; first, because no flesh, in itself, was

deemed unclean for the saints, and secondly, because other articles of

the ceremonial law had already at various times been abandoned with

impunity[1188]. The rejection of horseflesh for food, Keysler concludes,

was due to the Christian teachers, who found our pagan ancestors

employing the animal in sacrifices and auguries, and eating its flesh in

the subsequent repasts; hence, as a mark of disapprobation, this kind of

food was forbidden to converts. The results, it is urged by the old

antiquary, have been deplorable, more especially, because there is no

law of Christ which prescribes this rule of conduct (_Christi certe lex

nulla exstat, quae eum agendi modum praescribat_)[1189].

These propositions, in the main, seem undeniable. We have seen that the

Palaeolithic cave-man ate horseflesh freely, and that the Britons of the

Round Barrow Period were probably addicted to a like custom. There is

little doubt, again, that throughout Roman Britain horseflesh was a

common article of food. This is attested by the frequency of the

occurrence of broken bones of the horse in the “Brit-Welsh” caves of the

Iron Age[1190]. Corroboration of Keysler’s theory is afforded by

historical facts. Pope Gregory III. (ruled A.D. 731-741), in a letter to

St Boniface, the Apostle of Germany, forbade the eating of the flesh of

wild horses as an unclean and execrable act[1191]. Yet at a somewhat

earlier date, Gregory II., when consulted on the same perplexing

subject, had sent a temporizing answer, shielding himself behind the

famous passage in the Epistle to the Corinthians respecting meat offered

to idols[1192]. So long as the new faith held its converts insecurely,

and wherever Christianity was merely nominal, the frontier line of

authority alternatively advanced and receded. Nearly half a century

after the death of Gregory III., at the Council of Celchyth (A.D. 787),

the consumption of horseflesh was noted as a stain on the character of

the British Christians; their fellow-believers in the East were not

guilty of such a sin (_quod nullus Christianorum in orientalibus

facit_)[1193]. Yet the monks of St Gall not only ate horse-flesh, but

returned thanks for it in the metrical grace, written by the monk

Ekkehard III. (died _c._ A.D. 1036): “_Sit feralis equi caro dulcis sub

cruce Christi_.” Elsewhere, too, the habit seemed incurable. The

Norwegians, apparently in paying devotional honour to Odin, still ate

the forbidden food during the eleventh and twelfth centuries[1194]. The

growth of superstition tended to strengthen the Christian ban against

horseflesh. This food was the reputed diet of giants and witches[1195];

its preparation was associated with sacrifices; it was eaten with

hallowed salt. The sacrifices, in turn, were connected with popular

assemblies or folk-moots[1196]. Now witches and trolls were supposed to

live under mounds. Inside these mounds they held their dances, and

played on pipes made of horse bones[1197]. The hillocks were, as a rule,

actually barrows, the burial-places of bygone peoples, and the folk who

had once raised them probably not only ate horseflesh ceremonially, but

regarded it as welcome fare in times of dearth and scarcity. Successors

of the mound builders continued to partake of horseflesh, and coupled

the act with the worship of Odin. The ecclesiastical decrees were thus

primarily directed against the pagan practice, but, because of

superstition, the ban remained when its original necessity had passed

away.

L’Abbé Valentin Dufour, who in the year 1868 translated and edited

Keysler’s valuable chapter on the eating of horseflesh, adds a few facts

which bring the story down to modern times. He tells us that the sale of

horseflesh was forbidden in Paris in A.D. 1739, no reason being assigned

for the prohibition. When, however, in A.D. 1784, a similar promulgation

was issued, the ostensible motive was to prevent disease--there were

certain maladies “_que l’usage de pareilles chairs ne pouvait manquer

d’occasionner_[1198].” Since considerable importance was also attached

to the assumed novelty of eating horseflesh, Dufour is at some pains to

show that slaughter-houses (_boucheries_, _écorcheries_) existed, and

that the forbidden flesh was vended, during the early part of the

fifteenth century[1199]. Statutes continued to be passed against the use

of horseflesh in France, until, in the early nineteenth century (1814,

1816, 1817), the commodity was allowed to be sold by certain persons who

had secured the special privilege[1200]. Scarcity of food was doubtless

a factor in bringing about a relaxation. By some writers it is supposed

that the revulsion of feeling dates from the siege of Copenhagen (A.D.

1807), when the Danes ate horseflesh from necessity, and that the habit

gradually spread all over Europe[1201]. This may be true in the general

sense, but, archaeologically considered, one may doubt whether the

practice had ever been really quite extinct.

The old pre-Christian veneration of the horse probably touches the

groundwork of much of the folk-lore about the animal. Professor A. de

Gubernatis, in his work on _Zoological Mythology_, deals fully with

horse legends as exemplified in the Vedic, Greek, and Latin literatures,

and particularly with the horse as the favourite animal of the solar

hero[1202]. It is common, in ancient art, to find symbols of sun-worship

associated either with the horse or the chariot, or with both. All that

can be done in this place is to supply the reference. One old story may,

nevertheless, be noted: that which tells how the Emperor Caligula spoke

of raising his horse to the consulship. The usual explanation attributes

the remark to a passing caprice, but another interpretation is

conceivable. May it not be that Caligula intended the observation as a

compliment to British and Gallic opinions concerning the sanctity of

selected horses, opinions with which he must have been well acquainted?

We retrace our steps a little. Evidence seems to show that when the

early Palaeolithic cave-men hunted the horse, they were accustomed to

carry into their shelters only the fleshy parts of the carcass, together

with the head of the animal, and--for ornamental purposes--the valuable

tail. The long bones, which were crushed to obtain the marrow, do not

appear, as a rule, to have been taken into the caves[1203]. Light may

be cast on the anomalous separation of flesh and bones by a study of

ancient Egyptian custom as described by Herodotus. This writer states

that imprecations were heaped on the head of the sacrificial victim, so

that any impending evil might fall thereon; the Egyptians, in

consequence, would never eat the head of any animal[1204]. Strict taboo,

as imposed among common folk, is not inconsistent with ceremonial eating

by privileged individuals, and numerous instances might be given in

support of this antinomy of custom. Merely as a speculation, it might be

suggested that the head of the victim was at one time a delicate morsel

reserved for the chieftain. In the caves of the Neolithic and Bronze

Ages, the skull does not seem to be of common occurrence, but in the

early historic period, as shown by folklore, we catch echoes of its

legendary repute. Tacitus relates that the ancient German tribes hung

the heads of animals on trees as offerings to Odin. In Teutonic fairy

tales, the horse’s head works miracles, especially when played upon as

an instrument[1205]. It was thrown by witches into the Midsummer

fire[1206]--a notable collocation of details. Russian magic teaches that

ambrosia comes out of a horse’s head, and enables its possessor to do

deeds of prowess. By virtue of this ambrosia one hero discomfited

ninety-nine hostile monsters[1207]. In parts of Germany, horses’ heads

were buried in stables; in Holland, they were hung over pigstyes; in

Mecklenburg, they were placed under a sick man’s pillow[1208]. Again, in

Lower Saxony, horses’ heads, projecting outwards, were carved on the

gables of buildings, ostensibly for ornament, but in reality, it is

probable, to prevent mischief to the horses kept within. A similar

practice was observed by the builders of the older houses in

Rhaetia[1209]. In modern Norway, the handles of bowls, and the ends of

the wooden lever by which the primitive mangles are worked, are often

formed of carved horse-heads. Numerous examples may be seen in the

Horniman Museum, London. Specimens are said to have been met with in

English houses also. Some authorities considered that the figures

represented a Celtic legacy, but Grimm claims that the custom of carving

these images, like that of horse-worship generally, belongs “equally to

Celts, Teutons, and Slavs[1210].” The domain might be much extended.

Even in our own day (1865), such carvings as those described have been

recorded from Jutland. They were once common, it is stated, in Sussex,

and Miss M. Braitmaier has figured a series of modern gable ornaments

from different parts of Germany[1211]. When someone asked the meaning of

the horses’ heads on the Jutish gables, the natives answered, “Oh, they

are Hengist and Horsa[1212].” (Note that the name Hengist = a stallion,

and Horsa = a mare.) Whether or not Hengist and Horsa were historical

personages may be left in abeyance, the fact remains that they were

sometimes represented by horses’ heads carried in front of the army as

tutelary deities.

In certain parts of England, notably in Kent, there still survives the

custom of a group of men going round at Christmas carrying a horse’s

head, crudely carved in wood, and known as the “hoodening horse.”

Sometimes, it would appear, a skull long buried in the soil, and

afterwards dug up by chance, formed the “wooser,” “wooset,” or

“husset[1213].” Mr P. Maylam, who has carefully collated the records of

analogous customs from both England and Germany, considers that the word

“hoodening” is not, as popularly supposed, derived either from the Norse

word Odin or the Low German form Woden. He prefers to connect it with

those old performances in which the hobby horse and characters

representing Robin Hood and Maid Marian were prominent. A writer in the

_Athenaeum_ ridicules this idea, and prosaically refers the name to the

hood or sack which concealed the supposed body of the horse--really the

body of the hoodener, or performer[1214]. Yes, but why should the

horse, hooded or otherwise, enter into the ceremonies at all? It is easy

to deride the early school, of which Grimm is a representative, as

old-fashioned and full of extravagances. But we have to face a series of

converging customs, which were not begotten of a complex society like

that of modern or even Mediaeval England. Only by an appeal to some

primitive form of the horse cult can an ultimate solution be really

obtained.

Standing in close relationship to the “hoodening horse” custom, is a

somewhat weird Welsh practice, which is now nearly extinct, but which

some enthusiasts have lately attempted to revive. A horse’s skull is

dressed up and carried about by a performer who is enveloped in a cloak.

He makes the jaws of the skull snap to the accompaniment of Welsh

rhymes. Houses are visited, and largesse is demanded. The performance,

known colloquially as Mari Lwyd, is traced by some to pre-Reformation

usage. But doubtless, it goes back, like the “hoodening horse,” of

which, perhaps, it is a mere variant, to pagan times[1215].

Virgil relates a curious tradition which bears on our subject. As the

Carthaginians were digging near a venerable wood, they dug up a horse’s

skull--a “courser’s head,” as the phrase runs in Dryden’s translation,

and this discovery was accounted such a prosperous omen that a temple

was raised to Juno on that spot[1216]. Professor Conington, garnering

his knowledge from several classical writers, gives us the additional

information that the head of an ox was first lighted upon, and that this

was thought to portend servitude, but after further excavation, the

horse’s head appeared--an earnest of plenty, combined with success in

war[1217]. From Vishnu mythology comes a contradictory item, for, in

that system, the mouth of hell is conceived as a huge horse head[1218].

Before quitting this department of folk-lore, we may scan the wider

field of skull superstitions in general. A fox’s head, nailed to a

Scotch stable door, was supposed to keep off the dreaded witch. I

noticed an instance of this custom at Rottingdean, near Brighton, in

1908, but cannot be sure that any significance was attached to the fox’s

head[1219]. Why, again, does the gamekeeper suspend rows of weasels,

stoats, cats, magpies, and jays on his gibbet? Certainly he does this,

in the first place, to prove his zealous stewardship, and perhaps with

some dimly conscious belief that similar “evil-doers” will take warning.

But from observation of other curious practices, scarcely to be

discussed here, one suspects that the origin was ceremonial. We must

also remember cases like that described by Mr Baring-Gould, who once

saw, hanging on a magnificent elm at Westmeston, under Ditchling Beacon,

in Sussex, the carcasses of two horses and three calves. The reason

offered for this custom was that the suspension of the bodies was lucky

for cattle. Keeping, however, to a consideration of heads, we notice

that Sir G. L. Gomme records a peculiar instance from Hornchurch, in

Essex, where the lessee of the tithes used to pay, as a Christmas

tribute, a boar’s head. This payment could not depend upon the intrinsic

value of the toll, nor could the destruction of a single boar be counted

meritorious in itself. The tribute was obviously symbolical. Camden

relates that a stag was formerly paid as part of the rent of Church

lands situated in Essex. He adds that, when he was a boy, namely, in the

third quarter of the sixteenth century, the priests of St Paul’s

Cathedral were accustomed to meet the stag as it was brought up the

steps of the sacred building. The animal’s head was then carried on a

spear round the cathedral, which echoed meanwhile to the sound of horns.

Of this curious ceremony, the young antiquary was an eye-witness[1220].

From a review of these facts, we may deduce that the head of a

slaughtered animal bore an imputed sanctity. This was essentially the

case when the animal had been offered in sacrifice, and it is to pagan

and prehistoric ritual that we must look for an interpretation of the

facts. The species of animal esteemed most sacred would vary with the

time and the place--here, the horse, there, the ox. Later days brought

other competitors for the position of honour. Only by keeping well in

mind the widespread belief in the efficacy of skulls, are we enabled to

understand another series of records, which we now proceed to summarize.

More than half a century ago, when the chancel of St Botolph’s church,

Boston, was being rebuilt, a quantity of horses’ bones and the jaw-bones

of sheep were found under the floor[1221]. Again, we have seen that, on

the site of the present St Paul’s Cathedral, a deposit of bones of oxen

and other animals was discovered indicating a pagan site[1222] (cf. p.

83 _supra_). Secular buildings have also yielded horse remains. In 1895,

when Colonel Stanley Scott was taking up the ground floor of a house in

North Devon, he discovered, laid in order and well preserved, the skulls

of eight horses and ten bullocks[1223]. In Wharfedale, again, under the

floor of a house, probably from two to three hundred years old, the

workmen took up the skulls of seven horses and a cow[1224]. With these

discoveries one naturally associates the Dutch and German customs

already mentioned (p. 440 _supra_). And, of course, the primitive idea

must be connected with that which underlies foundation sacrifices,

although complication arises from the unique merit attached to skulls.

The foundation sacrifice is widely prevalent, but the burial of skulls

is a more specialized custom.

It will be noticed that, of the last two examples, one is recent, and

the other comparatively recent, therefore any folk-memory associated

with the deposition of the skulls was probably defective. According to

popular belief in Ireland, the skulls which are nowadays placed under

buildings are intended to “cause an echo.” Just as a public building

has, or has not, a horses skull buried beneath it, so will it be good or

bad for the purpose of hearing. A certain field which possessed a good

echo was commonly believed to have a horse interred in it; the tradition

was sound, but it is not known whether the horse was buried for that

purpose[1225]. Why, it may be pertinently asked, does a field need a

good echo?

On broad grounds, it is sufficiently obvious that the sacrificial idea

preceded the economic, yet there must have been a period of overlapping.

For not only was some variation of the custom observed, as we shall see,

by Mediaeval church builders, but the practice was kept up until our own

days. Noticeably has this been the case in the Scottish Presbyterian

Church[1226]. When the old Bristol Street meeting-house, in Edinburgh,

was being demolished a century ago, eight horse skulls were found

concealed in the sounding-board of the pulpit[1227]. Less than half a

century back, the same class of object was put under an organ in a

parish church in the province of Munster to increase the effect of the

music[1228].

The modern theory of the acoustic purpose of the skulls fades as we

trace the custom to more remote times. A small chamber in the belfry of

Elsdon church, Northumberland, appeared to have been built specially to

contain three horse skulls, which had lain piled against each other for

hundreds of years[1229]. The masons of old time doubtless imagined that

the skulls would make the tones of the bells more resonant, but, “lulled

in the countless chambers of the brain” there must have been

almost-forgotten memories of these traditional talismans. These sacred

and oracular heads, there can be little question, were built into

heathen temples before the dawn of history, and the habit was passed on

from one generation to another[1230]. Does this theory seem far-fetched?

Consider the conditions at Elsdon. Here is a district teeming with

earthworks and other British and Roman remains. The population is

scanty, the moorland wild and pathless; there was, until recently,

little inter-communication among the scattered folk. Hereditary custom

held firm sway. Such was the preference for burial in Elsdon

churchyard, that corpses were carried many miles over the moors for

interment. Yet pagan customs were rife. Well-worship was carried on here

until our own times, and not many decades have passed since cattle were

driven through the Midsummer bonfires to ward off disease. How much

stronger was superstition when the village church of Elsdon was first

built! There must have been dark, undisturbed depths of paganism in the

lives of the countryfolk. We really know little of the true beliefs of

the Mediaeval peasant, as recorded by himself. Even our information

about the faiths held by the official classes, though somewhat exiguous,

reveals a basis of gross superstition. The gap between the twentieth

century and the sixteenth is almost immeasurable as compared with that

between the sixteenth century and the Neolithic period.

Let us halt, to draw a comparison from Brittany. Who, in the absence of

direct evidence, would have imagined that, in our own generation, a

people, nominally Christian, could have been found to set out dishes of

cream for the dead on All Souls’ Eve, to employ grave-earth for the cure

of fevers, to pour out milk on tombs as a libation, to anoint menhirs

with oil and honey, to scatter the ashes of the festival fires over the

fields to ensure a fat harvest? Yet all these customs have been

practised by the Bretons in recent times. Well-worship, the blessing of

oxen at Carnac, the ghastly reverence paid to images personifying Death,

and all such rites, we pass by, as being everywhere somewhat persistent.

The parallel which I wish to draw is between the Mediaeval Englishman

and the more modern Breton. Could we turn back and thoroughly understand

the pages of history, I am convinced that even the seventeenth century

peasant of the English Cornwall, for example, would be found quite as

superstitious as the nineteenth century peasant of the French Cornwall.

What is true of Cornwall, holds good for the Highlands of Scotland, for

Ireland and Wales, and, in a lesser degree, for the whole of rural

England.

To return: the acoustic idea had its birth so far back as Roman times at

least, though at that period it was associated with the use of sounding

jars. Probably horse skulls were still buried sacrificially, but the

purpose was being forgotten. The belief in the efficacy of horse skulls

as reverberators seems to have been derived from the employment of these

jars, at a rather later time when the sacramental idea concerning skulls

was obsolete. About the jars themselves there has been a vast

controversy, which, even at the risk of being discursive, we must

briefly notice.

To take a Roman example first: along the seats of the Coliseum there was

a peculiar arrangement of horizontal pots, which Sir E. Beckett (Lord

Grimthorpe) believed were intended to augment the sound. As a result of

experiment, this authority found that the vessels acted much in the same

way as would a series of short, wide tubes, if presented to a

hemispherical bell when this was struck[1231]. Vitruvius mentions brazen

vessels, perhaps comparable to the gong or kettle-drum, as being in use

in Roman theatres. Some writers have thought that the purpose was to

make the voices of the actors more distinct, others consider that the

vessels were accessories in the imitation of thunder.

Coming to Mediaeval times, we find that the church of the Celestins at

Metz was furnished (A.D. 1439) with jars, expressly to improve the

chanting, but it is affirmed that experience showed them to be useless.

Mr Gordon M. Hills, in a valuable paper on this subject, says that the

jars were “a great disfigurement to the building, the marvel of all

beholders, and the jest of fools[1232].” There are other Continental

records of acoustic jars from Strasburg, Angers, Paris, and other

places. L’Abbé Cochet discovered numerous specimens in the churches of

Upper Normandy, together with “cornets” of baked earth in the church of

St Blaise, at Arles. Illustrations of some of these are given in

Cochet’s paper in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_[1233], and the statement is

made that similar “cornets” are found in the interior walls and vaults

of many churches in Sweden, Denmark, and Russia[1234]. Didron, after

referring to specimens from the two first-named countries, and to those

discovered at Arles and Metz, decides against the acoustic

hypothesis: “_Ce mode [d’acoustique] me semblait aussi puéril

qu’inefficace_[1235].” And, seeing that the men of the Middle Ages made

bells and organs so commonly, why, he asks, are not the sounding

“poteries” of more frequent occurrence[1236]?

In England, notable finds of jars are on record, though the number of

churches concerned is but a trivial percentage of the whole. At St

Clement’s, Sandwich, the jars were built into the walls of the chancel,

overlooking the altar[1237]. At Barkway, Hertfordshire, they were

likewise embedded in the chancel wall, but on the floor level[1238].

They are also found in the thickness of the wall, a few inches below the

floor level, as at Fountains Abbey, where they had been placed at the

base of the old choir screen. The Fountains vases lay on their sides,

and both in and around them there was an abundance of charcoal. The

charcoal, it is conjectured, may have had no more mysterious origin than

a fire which occurred at the Dissolution[1239]. Jars, supposed to be of

Romano-British make, were found on the top of the chancel wall at East

Harling, Norfolk; in each case the mouth of the jar faced the interior

of the chancel. For a long time a coating of lath and plaster had

concealed these curiosities[1240], and one is led to wonder whether

other jars may not, even now, lie hidden elsewhere. The gables of

Newington church, Kent, yielded three jars. Other records come from

Fairwell (Staffs.), Denford (Northants.), St Peter’s Mancroft and St

Peter-per-Mountergate in Norwich, Upton, near Newark, and from Youghal,

in Ireland[1241]. But the greatest collection of all was uncovered at

the village church of Leeds, near Maidstone, in 1878. Altogether, about

fifty earthenware pots were revealed. They were found on the top of each

wall of the nave, below the wall plate. The walls and oaken roof

belonged to the fifteenth century. The best judges at first declared

that the vessels were of Romano-British manufacture, and dated a

thousand years earlier than the fabric. This would seem to indicate

that a series of urns had been discovered in the neighbourhood, and

pressed into service by the Mediaeval masons. Later expert opinion,

however, declares that the jars, though possessing some Celtic

characteristics, are of Mediaeval date. The bodies of the jars were

cylindrical, and about 8 or 9 inches in diameter, while the mouths

narrowed to 3 or 4 inches. The height averaged 10-12 inches. The bottom

of each jar was convex and perforated. Mr Hills calls attention to some

perplexing general considerations. The jars are of any form and every

form, they are old and new, they are placed, as if at hazard, from the

floor to the roof. He therefore concludes that the intentions were

several, although he does not himself suggest any other purpose to

supplement the acoustic theory[1242]. In such a matter as this,

difference of purpose, variety in underlying belief, changeable custom

according to locality, confused folk-memory and tradition, need cause

the antiquary no surprise. The prime motive having vanished, the custom

is bereft of its full meaning, and the course of development runs along

divergent rather than parallel lines. Two other discoveries which seem

to favour the acoustic theory may be given--those at Ashburton, in Devon

(1838), and Luppitt, also in Devon (1880). The Ashburton jars (Fig. 88

A), though convex at the base, and exhibiting chevron ornament, are

assigned not to the Late-Celtic period, but to the close of the

fourteenth or the beginning of the fifteenth century. The jars from

Luppitt (Fig. 88 B) are comparable to those found at Leeds. They were

apparently made especially for insertion in a wall, as they are

flattened a little in one portion. They probably belong to the fifteenth

century[1243].

This question of “acoustic jars” has been dilated upon because it seems

to involve an indirect derivative of the skull superstition, and one is

induced to outline the story, however roughly and tentatively. We start

with a period when the horse cult is rife, and when solemnity is the

note of the priest and soothsayer. At a later date, a horse, or among

some peoples, an

[Illustration: FIG. 88. Acoustic jars.

A. Skittle-shaped specimen from Ashburton church, Devon. The jar is

grey, and highly burnt. _a_, _b_, are yellow bands, on which are

incised chevrons.

B. Small jar (6´´ × 4½´´) from Luppitt, Devonshire. It has some of

the characteristics of Celtic pottery, but probably belongs to the

fifteenth century.

_Jour. Archaeol. Assoc._ XXXVIII. p. 220.

]

ox, is slain and buried under the foundations of the pagan temple. By

and by, the skull, representing the most mysterious and sacred part of

the animal, is considered to be sufficient by itself. Instead of being

uniformly hidden under the building, it is built into the wall or placed

in a specially constructed recess. The depositories are not confined to

one part of the building. At a later date, a purely practical

interpretation is assigned to the skulls. Secular architects, or

architects not versed in the mystic lore of their heathen fathers,

become prone to substitute an urn or a jar for the skull. The early

Christians, adapting, it may be, the old pagan site, and actuated either

by necessity or diplomacy, at times prudently permit the old rite and

custom. The two practices run side by side, but the motive is weak, and

ultimately becomes debatable. Then springs up the explanation that

skulls and jars alike are used to produce sonorous beauty, and on this

our modern theory is based. Nevertheless, these perversions of the

original purpose have not been everywhere co-eval; we have seen, for

example, that the architects of the Coliseum had reached the structural

stage of the idea, and evidently turned the principle to good account.

Folk-memory weakens according to the degree of civilization and in

response to outside influences. As, on the one hand, the imperfectly

hollow horse skull is supplanted by jars, vases, and urns; so, on the

other, an ox-skull becomes a mere ornament on the frieze of a Roman

Doric building. Again, certain builders, apparently misled by the

earthenware vessels, and connecting them with traditions or actual

experiences of urn-burial, employ a modification of such vessels as pure

ornament. The story has several parts. The mingling of the symbolic and

the utilitarian idea is difficult to unravel, hence there is room for

much speculation, and need for some suspension of final judgement.

CHAPTER XI

“THE LABOUR’D OX”

“Two such I saw, what time the labour’d ox

In his loose traces from the furrow came,

And the swink’t hedger at his supper sate.”

_Comus_, ll. 291-3.

An easy-going reader, with no taste for agricultural inquiries, might

admire the above picturesque lines and then pass on, counting as a

trifle what is really a most important feature of early social

history--the use of the ox as a beast of draught. Let us pursue the

question a little, for, although the spectacle described was apparently

commonplace to the poet, yet, to us, a ploughing ox is undoubtedly a

rarity. Some two or three teams in Sussex, perchance a similar number in

Dorset, and, it may be, an odd team in the West Country, seem to

complete the census of working oxen.

By means of personal investigations made in various counties, and by the

collection of scattered particulars given in certain periodicals, I have

endeavoured to determine at what dates the bullock was discarded as a

draught animal. It may be well to give an epitome of the results,

premising that what is now an exceptional occurrence was, at no remote

period, the general rule, just as it is still the rule in the

agricultural districts of Germany, Austria, and Southern France, not to

speak of such distant lands as Cape Colony and Ceylon.

Commencing with the “county of broad acres,” we find that Arthur Young

speaks of having seen many oxen in harness between York and Beverley in

the year 1768. Waggons were drawn by two oxen and two horses; for

tillage, oxen alone were deemed more serviceable[1244]. A little later,

in 1788, Marshall gives a somewhat different testimony. Oxen were still

preferred for drawing farm carriages and timber waggons along the roads

in the Vale of Pickering, but not a single ox was left at field

work[1245]. Near Whitby, however, bullocks were attached to the plough

so late as 1826[1246], and for hauling stones from the quarry, in

1858[1247]. A single team was still engaged in quarry work in

1895[1248].

Coming to the neighbouring county of Lincoln, draught oxen were still

employed near Brigg in 1853[1249], and five years later the writer’s

father saw a plough-team in regular work at North (or Nun) Ormsby, near

Louth. The particulars from the Midlands touch more recent times. For

Stratford-on-Avon the last recorded year is 1895[1250]. A friend noticed

a team at work near Oxford, in 1881, and I have a record from Helmdon

(Northants), for 1902. At Hockliffe, near Luton, in Bedfordshire, oxen

were constantly employed by an eccentric farmer who died so recently as

1909. The feature was, however, admittedly an anachronism: the farmer in

question would not use machinery, and was, in other respects, a follower

of old-world customs.

The West Country supplies records for the year 1895; in the Vale of

Pewsey it is asserted that more ox-teams than horse-teams were seen at

the plough in that year, though the ox was not used for road-work. In

1909 I could not find a single team; inquiries showed that the year 1897

or 1898 must have marked the change over, so that either there must have

been an abrupt reversal of custom, or, more probably, the statement with

respect to the year 1895 was incorrect. There, as in Dorset, red and

white Herefords represented the breed most in favour[1251]. An

eye-witness reports a team from East Ilsley (Berks.), for 1906. During

the years 1887-8, I occasionally saw oxen ploughing on the Cotswolds,

and, a few years previously, Devonshire farmers still chose bullocks for

heavy land.

Labouring oxen were not uncommon in Hampshire and Dorsetshire about

twenty years ago. Two oxen were yoked to the plough, while, to increase

the speed, a horse was attached as leader. The case of Essex is

peculiar. One is bound to believe that bullock labour was formerly as

common in that county as elsewhere, nevertheless Arthur Young informs us

that the Essex farmers of the eighteenth century ridiculed Lord Clare’s

introduction of oxen to his estate at Braintree. It was only when the

experiment resulted in a great saving of money as compared with the

general expenditure on horse-labour that the example was reluctantly

copied. Young says that the importation of the oxen from

Gloucestershire, where Lord Clare had purchased them “with all their

geers,” was “a stroke of agriculture most unusual in Essex.” On one

occasion, a waggon drawn by horses became “sett” in the village. The

horses were taken off, “and the oxen clapt too (_sic_), who to the

amazement to the beholders, drew it out in triumph[1252].” One cannot

help thinking that the popularity of horse-labour around Braintree was a

chronological inversion, applicable only to a limited area. At whatever

period introduced, working oxen remained in the Essex districts of

Romford and Ilford until the year 1830[1253], and probably later. In the

sister county of Kent, bullocks were worked near Tunbridge Wells until

the year 1886[1254].

It is to the county of Sussex, however, that we must look for the

lingering exploitation of ox-labour. During the summer of 1908,

remembering what I had witnessed about twenty years previously, I made

careful inquiries about the disuse of working-oxen by Sussex farmers.

The result proved that two teams at least were still under the yoke, one

at Housedean Farm, Falmer, and the other, which I did not actually see,

at Itford Farm, near Rodmell, a few miles North of Newhaven. The latter

team has now been disbanded. In February, 1910, Dr W. Heneage Legge, of

Ringmer, informed me that teams could still be seen daily near Brighton.

Later, in August of that year, I found a single team retained--for

sentimental reasons, probably--at Exceat New Barn, near West Dean. The

Falmer cattle are black, long-horned animals, apparently of Welsh breed.

The old Sussex red cattle are no longer employed. The oxen are not shod

at the present day, though it is but a few years since the custom was

abandoned. This is a point to which we shall return. At Pyecombe and

Pangdean, bullocks were last worked, and shod, about eight years since.

“A few years ago,” was the answer given at Saddlescombe, and again at

Sompting. At Steyning, the blacksmith had not shod oxen for twenty

years, nor had his brother craftsman of Ditchling treated bullocks for a

decade or more. Here the details may stop; it is perhaps well that they

should be given, as an aid to the future historian.

But what of the past? For it is practically certain that from the

earliest historical times onwards to the eighteenth century the ox was

pre-eminently, nay, almost entirely, the beast which was yoked to cart,

plough, and harrow. There were, it is true, some exceptions, to be noted

in a moment. The old illuminated manuscripts show pictures of oxen only,

and the famous embroidery known as the Bayeux “tapestry” furnishes

similar evidence. The animals there shown as attached to the plough,

whether they represent oxen, horses, or asses, are very different from

the finely drawn horses exhibited throughout the rest of the

tapestry[1255]. Until the eighth century, as was stated in Chapter X.,

the horse was often used for food, and it was likewise kept for the

saddle. Thus we may say that, while the hunter, the warrior, and the

pilgrim claimed the horse for riding, the husbandman in the field was

content to use the ox for draught.

The language of Domesday Book corroborates the testimony of the early

manuscripts. In general, the records of that remarkable survey indicate

that a painstaking assessment was taken of farming stock. The terms used

in the minute inventories are extremely suggestive. The amount of land

which an ox could till is called an “oxgang” or “bovata” (Lat. _bos_,

_bovis_ = an ox + _ata_). A bovata, originally “one ox’s worth,” was

half a “jugum,” “a pair’s worth” (Lat. _jugum_ = a yoke), and a quarter

of a carucata (post-classical Latin, _car(r)uca_ = a four-wheeled

carriage; cf. root _quatuor_, whence the word was later applied to a

plough, possibly because it was drawn by four oxen, or, by extension,

two yoke of oxen, four abreast)[1256]. Recollections of early Mediaeval

literature will emphasize the truth of our proposition. In the “Vision

of William, concerning Piers the Plowman” (c. A.D. 1377), it was

doubtless an ox-team which ploughed the “half-acre.” Again, in the

writings of Bartholomew Anglicus (cir. A.D. 1260), there is a

description of the duties of Bubulcus, the ox-herd. “He feedeth and

nourisheth oxen, and bringeth them to leas and home again; and bindeth

their feet with a langhaldes [M. E. _langelen_ = to bind together;

_langel_, _lanzel_ = a rope or hopple] and spanells [= fetters; cf.

Germ. _Spannseil_ = a tether] and nigheth and cloggeth them while they

be in pasture and leas, and yoketh and maketh them draw at the plough:

and pricketh the slow with a goad, and maketh them draw even. And

pleaseth them with whistling and with song, to make them bear the yoke

with the better will for liking of melody of the voice.” The oxen not

only “ear” (= plough) the ground, but thresh the corn by treading:

Bartholomew also speaks of their use in “treading the flour[1257].” The

trivial round of the ox-herd’s labours may be completed from an Old

English dialogue of the eleventh century, in which the garthman is made

to say: “I stand over [the oxen], waking against thieves: and then again

in the early morning I betake them, well filled and watered, to the

plowman[1258].” A like story is told in the anonymous “Seneschaucie,” or

“The Office of Seneschal” (_temp._ Edw. I.), wherein it is stated that

ox-herds must sleep with their oxen to guard them[1259]. If we pass by

a few centuries, we get, in a passage from Shakespeare, an allusion to

the traffic in draught oxen at the great fairs of England. Shallow

inquires of Silence, “How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford

fair[1260]?” And moving forward again, we have Robert Burns singing

thus:

“And owsen frae the furrow’d field

Return sae dowf [= slow, heavy] and wearie O[1261].”

In short, through all the centuries down to the middle of the

eighteenth, it might have been affirmed, in the words which Richard

Carew used of his own county of Cornwall: “For meate, draught, and

plowing, Oxen; for carriage and riding, horses[1262].”

But there must have been exceptions, perhaps even a little more

numerous than the foregoing paragraph would seem to imply. Fitzstephen,

who, about the year A.D. 1174, wrote a short account

of the city of London, describes a market at which one could buy

all kinds of commodities, and he remarks, incidentally, “_Stant ibi

aptae aratris, trahis, et bigis equae_” (There stand the mares, fit

for the plough, the sledge, and the cart)[1263]. Letters written in

A.D. 1222 to Ralph de Nevil, Bishop of Winchester,

contain repeated requests for “mares to draw the carts” which were to

convey marl to the fields[1264]. The employment of mares for draught

is directly at variance with their early heathen allocation to the

priestly body, one instance of which was given on p. 436 _supra_. This

old usage does not, of course, imply that all mares were reserved

for the priests: moreover, traditions respecting such animals were

doubtless fading away. But to return to our subject: the evidence

adduced is sufficient to prove that horses were partly employed in

agriculture during the Norman and Plantagenet periods. Moreover, Walter

de Henley, writing not later than A.D. 1250, advised

the farmers of his day to plough with two oxen and two horses, “if the

ground is not so stony that the oxen cannot help themselves with their

feet” (_si la tere ne seyt si perouse ke buefs ne se pussent eyder des

pes_)[1265]. As already noted, this plan was followed in Yorkshire,

Hampshire, and Dorsetshire until modern times. When all exceptions are

allowed for, however, the broad fact remains, that the bullock was the

main beast of draught during the earlier periods of English history.

Even in the Yorkist and Lancastrian periods, horses, we are assured,

were hardly ever used for field-work[1266]. They carried corn to the

mill or the market on their backs[1267], and they served the packman on

his journeys through the country. In the fields the ox was master.

Concerning the number of oxen which were grouped to form a team, usage

has varied. The Domesday terms bearing on the subject have caused much

controversy. Canon Isaac Taylor argued that eight oxen made up the

team[1268]. This view is supported by Dr J. H. Round, and, to some

extent, by Professor Vinogradoff and Professor Seebohm. The last-named

authority believes that eight oxen, yoked four abreast, made up the

full manorial plough-team at the time of Domesday, as well as in the

twelfth and thirteenth centuries. He admits, however, that the villains

had apparently smaller ploughs, with about four oxen to the team (Fig.

89). He also cites records to show that, occasionally, the plough-team

consisted of ten or twelve oxen. Mr W. de Gray Birch contends that the

number was four, and that four bullocks were the equivalent of two

horses[1269].

[Illustration:

FIG. 89. Ploughing in the eleventh century. From

MS. Anglo-Saxon Calendar, early eleventh century.

(Strutt.) It will be observed that the team consists of four

animals. Other illuminated manuscripts also tend to support Mr de

Gray Birch’s theory.

]

Fortunately, there are precise statements extant respecting the

Mediaeval practice. In the Cartulary of Rievaulx Abbey (founded

A.D. 1132) eight is given as the number of the full team

or “draught”: “I[i]dem etiam monachi habebunt in eadem pastura quatuor

carrucatas boum, unamquamque de viii bobus[1270].” A team of eight

was also known on the high road, as we learn from the rhyming _Life

of St Cuthbert_ (c. A.D. 1450). We find the following

description of the conveyance of a huge beam to Durham Abbey:

“It was of eight oxen draght (= draught),

It was in a wayne wraght[1271]” (= worked, put).

This quota was, however, often exceeded. A great bell, cast in London,

was brought to Durham on a truck:

“Oxen twenty and twa

War drawand this bell full thra[1272]” (= vigorously).

By a curious coincidence, twenty-two was the strength of the ox-teams

which formerly drew timber along the proverbially wretched roads of

Sussex[1273]. Mr R. E. Prothero tells us that

[Illustration: FIG. 90. Sussex oxen: showing the wide space required

when turning the headland, with a team of six.

“Thou art not for the fashion of these times.”

(_As You Like It_, Act II. Sc. 3.)

]

in the eighteenth century from eight to ten went to a plough. A trace of

these large teams may be seen, he asserts, in the old crooked ridges

visible on grass lands. The enormous length of the team, together with

the use of unwieldy ploughs, necessitated the allowance of a vast width

of head-row on which to turn (Fig. 90), hence there was a marked

deflection or curvature of the furrow[1274]. The furrow, in fact, took

the form of a flat reversed S[1275]. The Lincolnshire tradition says

that only the tops of the ridges were cultivated, and that the oxen were

attached to each end of a long pole, which stretched across the “land.”

Thus yoked the animals walked along the grass in the furrow. How the

ridges and furrows were originally formed we are not told. Rham says

that the old-fashioned plough was drawn by six oxen, and that barely

half an acre was turned in a summer’s

[Illustration: FIG. 91. Ploughing on the Sussex Downs: a team of four.]

day[1276]. Youatt recommended two pair of oxen to a plough; he

considered the ancient method of using four pair unnecessary[1277]. The

modern Sussex team commonly, but not always (Fig. 91), consists of six

or eight oxen. Eight was also the usual number in Northumberland.

Something, of course, depended upon the mode of harnessing the animals.

A case is recorded, in which a country clergyman, departing from the

common practice of attaching bullocks to the plough by means of a yoke,

adopted Arthur Young’s advice and used collars, with the result that

five oxen, harnessed according to the latter mode, would do the work of

eight in yokes (i.e. paired), with equal ease[1278]. The yoke which was

used in Sussex until quite recent years was a curved wooden beam about 5

feet long, 4 inches thick, and 6 inches deep. Near the extremities were

light oval hoops made of ash, about 1½ inches in thickness. These hoops

passed round the necks of the oxen, and then went through the thickness

of the

[Illustration:

FIG. 92. Ox-yoke (Sussex). _Reliquary_, XI. p. 222. _Dimensions_:

length 5 ft; thickness 4´´; depth 6´´. The loops (ox-bows), which

are of ash, are about 1½ inches thick.

]

[Illustration:

FIG. 93. Ox-yoke (c. A.D. 1800), Gayton-le-Wold, Lincolnshire. Now

in the Museum of the Louth Antiq. and Nat. Soc. The material is

ash. Length 51½´´; breadth 6´´; depth 4½´´. Ropes, or chains,

passing through the vertical holes, appear to have served as

ox-bows.

]

yoke[1279]. One of these yokes lay outside the blacksmith’s shop at

Rodmell, when I visited the village in 1910. Through the kindness of Dr

W. Heneage Legge, I am enabled to give an illustration of a Sussex

ox-yoke (Fig. 92). A Lincolnshire specimen, over a century old, now in

the Museum at Louth, is shown for the sake of comparison (Fig. 93). In

Fitzherbert’s time (A.D. 1534) the hoops were known as ox-bows. It would

appear, from a casual remark made by Rham, that the yoke was sometimes

fixed across the horns[1280]. We may note, by parenthesis, that the team

sometimes carried bells; one of these was discovered under the ruins of

the tower of Ringmer church (Sussex). The tower fell at some period

between the fifteenth and seventeenth centuries, and it is supposed

that oxen had been employed to remove the fallen stones[1281].

[Illustration: FIG. 94. Old Sussex plough and rake, in use about 150

years ago, at Rodmell, near Lewes. Now in the Castle grounds at Lewes.]

Of the various kinds of plough which have been in use for ox-labour, a

treatise might be written. What surprises the student most, is the

persistent crudeness of these implements down to a very late period. In

the grounds of Lewes Castle there is to be seen a specimen of the old

Sussex plough (Fig. 94). This dilapidated relic, which belongs to the

authorities of the County Museum hard by, is probably a century and a

half old, and originally came from Northease Farm, near Rodmell. The

plough is 12 feet long, and its two wheels are each about 2 feet in

diameter. The hubs and spokes are of wood, and are clumsily fixed to a

narrow iron tire, which is circular in cross-section. This feature may

be observed to-day in some of the ploughs of the neighbourhood, and the

method of attachment of the spokes is nearly as primitive in the modern

implements. The mouldboard of this cumbrous old plough is a semi-conical

iron-plate, and the coulter--a cutting instrument, according to

theory--is a heavy bar of wood with one edge a little narrowed. One may

be sure that the Mediaeval plough was of still ruder design. The Saxon

and Roman ploughs (Fig. 95), drawn by oxen, are of an extremely simple

pattern.

[Illustration: FIG. 95.

A. Bronze, representing Roman ploughman, said to have been found at

Piercebridge, Durham. Lord Londesborough’s collection. (Wright.)

B. Saxon ploughman. From the Psalter of Eadwine, _temp._ Stephen.

(Strutt.) In both cases the oxen represented evidently belong to a

shorthorn breed.

]

Opinions have always differed as to the age when a bullock’s services

are most valuable. A Sussex steward informed me that the age for

commencing work was 4 years, and that the ox would continue to be of use

for seven or eight years afterwards. Another account gave the starting

age as 2½ years, and the working period from three to five years. Youatt

cautiously remarks that the working life varies with the breed[1282].

The Yorkshire plan was to “break in” the animal at the age of 2 or 3

years, and work it till it was rising 6 years; but Marshall, while

agreeing with the “harness age” just given, contends that the beast

might be worked until it was from 15 to 20 years old, when it would be

in its prime[1283]. He adduces this instance: “An ox which I worked

several years in Surrey, might at 17 or 18 years old, have challenged,

for strength, agility, and sagacity, the best bred cart-horse in the

kingdom.”

It will prevent confusion if we pause to note that the terms “ox” and

“bullock” are properly applied to castrated males of the species after

the age of 4 years; up to that age the animals are known as

“steers[1284],” or “stirks.” The distinction, however, need not be made

in the present survey.

When the ox was no longer of service in the field, it was fattened, and,

wherever the food was of a generous kind, the beef, we are assured, was

not especially tough. “Besides,” as an old Sussex peasant once remarked

to the writer, “we a’nt all on us got bad teeth, zur.” A more decided

opinion was that of a Newhaven butcher, who averred that he always used

to consider the beef of ploughing oxen a special dainty for the

consumption of himself and friends[1285]. And in general, the

countryfolk of old acted on the advice of the Hebrew proverb: “If the ox

fall, whet your knife.” Worn-out oxen were doubtless a great boon. In

Mediaeval England, fresh beef was consumed chiefly by the nobles and the

wealthy corporations, and by them only during a few months of the year.

Many bullocks were, indeed, killed and salted in November, when

provender had become scarce, but these represented grass-fed cattle. It

is estimated that only a very small proportion of the whole herd was

fattened for the table[1286]. Sir Anthony, or as he was termed Maister

Fitzherbert, who has already been cited, describes the position of the

husbandman very ingenuously: “And if any sorance (= injury, sore,

disease) come to an oxe, [and he] waxe old, broysed (= bruised) or

blinde, for ii. s. he may be fedde, and thanne he is mannes meate, and

as good or better then euer he was. And the horse, whan he dyethe, is

but caryin[1287].” Horseflesh, in Fitzherbert’s day, had long been

discarded as human food. (See _supra_, pp. 437-8.)

Among the reasons which led to the selection of the ox, rather than the

horse, for dragging the plough or hauling sledges laden with farm

produce, was the comparative cheapness of the keep of the former animal.

During summer, the ox was mainly fed on grass, which was supplied by the

common pasture. Winter found the poor beast living on a scanty diet of

straw, with occasional meals of chaff. Therefore the yeoman who had only

a few acres of land, with access to a waste or common, or the squire who

possessed sufficient pasture to supplement his arable fields, discovered

that bullocks formed the more economical team[1288]. Rogers estimates

that the cost of keeping a horse between October 18th and May 3rd,

during which term it could not graze, was nearly four times that of an

ox[1289]. Again, beast for beast, the bullock was deemed to have

proportionately a greater capacity for draught, that is, the strength of

an ox was utilized to better advantage when the animal was put in

traces, though for carrying burdens the horse was superior. The

assumption seems always to have been that two oxen could, in the mean,

drag as much as a good cart-horse. Though slow, the ox was surefooted,

and on the old, undrained fallows it was invaluable, because its hoofs

spread out as it tramped along. Not indeed that all breeds of this

creature are invariably sluggish. The trotting bullocks of India are

familiar to most folk, and Youatt relates that a British ox ran four

miles on Lewes racecourse in sixteen minutes[1290]. Walter de Henley

actually asserts that the ox is as quick at its work as the horse, but

the context shows that this statement must be interpreted in a peculiar

manner--he is comparing oxen with horses which are “pulled” by sullen,

prejudiced workpeople. “Besides,” so runs the comment, “a plough of oxen

will go as far in a year as a plough of horses, because the malice of

ploughmen (_la malyce des charuers_) will not allow the plough [of

horses] to go beyond their pace, no more [distance] than the plough of

oxen (_aler hors del pas nent ke la charue des buefs_)[1291].”

Generalizations respecting such a subject as ox-labour must obviously,

however, be accepted under reserve. The problem is not really simple.

Arthur Young prepared elaborate tables to show the relative values of

ox-labour and horse-labour, as applied to different soils under varying

conditions[1292]. The balance of opinion, as expressed by Young’s

calculations, is in favour of the ox[1293], but there are some important

conclusions in a contrary sense. Fitzherbert anticipated Young’s

verdict, though his assigned reason seems to indicate that he was

parrying a difficult question. “For in some places an oxen-ploughe is

better than a horse-plough, and in somme places a horse-plough is

better[1294].” Oxen are preferable, he tells us, where there exist

pastures into which the animals can be put on their return from work.

Horses are better when the team has to be “teddered” on leas and balks

(= unploughed, grassy strips), though, in practice, strange to say, they

were not usually so tethered. A more cogent plea for the bullock is

appended to this somewhat weak reason: “And oxen wyl plowe in tough

cley, and upon hylly grounde, where-as horses wyll stande

st[i]ll[1295].” This explanation carries weight, for it is on a steep

hill slope that the superiority of the ox-team was always best seen.

After the teachings of Jethro Tull, Lord Coke, and James Smith of

Deanston, had borne fruit, and farmers had begun to drain their land,

the horse came into serious competition with the ox. Even then, however,

a cause which had, all along, operated against the horse, continued for

some time to exercise a partial influence. This cause lay in the fact

that too little attention had been paid to horse-breeding, but so soon

as this art began to be practised, and powerful draught horses were, in

consequence, developed, the change of system began in earnest. An

illuminating piece of evidence was afforded when the transition was

taking place in Italy. The husbandmen in the neighbourhood of Rome,

copying French and English customs, abandoned ox-labour, but they had

not learnt how to rear horses strong enough for heavy field-work, and

much cruelty resulted from the change[1296].

Another reason for the preference given to cattle requires careful

examination. Mr W. J. Corbett, relying apparently on Walter de Henley

and Fitzherbert, states that the ox did not require shoeing[1297], and

that thus expense was saved. It may be doubted whether this cause was

ever generally active. The custom of shoeing oxen seems to be very

ancient. There is no obvious reason for disbelieving that the iron

object found by General Pitt-Rivers at Rushmore, in Cranborne Chase,

was, as the discoverer supposed, a Romano-British ox-shoe (Fig. 96 _C_).

It was of crescentic shape, widened at one extremity, slightly concave

on the upper side, and measured 3⅖ × 1⅛ inches[1298]. There is the

possibility, of course, that it was part of a horseshoe, but that

alternative is not so likely. The question of the existence of

horseshoes in Roman times has been dealt with in the preceding chapter.

It must be noted, on the one hand, that other objects of about the same

age as the Rushmore example, found in association with Roman remains in

ash-pits at Dorchester and Silchester, and in the Cam valley, have been

considered

[Illustration:

FIG. 96. A. Ox-shoe or “cue,” made at Ditchling, Sussex, c. A.D.

1898. B. Nail for fixing shoe. (Author’s collection.) C. Ox-shoe

discovered by Pitt-Rivers at Rushmore, in Cranborne Chase. D.

Ox-shoes in position.

]

horseshoes[1299]. (Cf. details given on p. 424 _supra_.) Against this

may be set a few scraps of evidence which support the correctness of

Pitt-Rivers’s determination--assuming that the two opinions clash--an

assumption which must not be made unless one has the opportunity of

comparing the various objects. First, we learn from ancient writers like

Pliny that the ancients shod, or at least bandaged, the hoofs of injured

camels with woven or plaited hemp[1300]. They were also often shod with

strong ox-leather[1301]. (Cf. Information about horseshoes, p. 423

_supra_.) Roman mules, and therefore, presumably, horses and oxen, were

shod with iron when they had to cross miry places, or when pomp and

display required some ornamentation of the team. The shoes were, indeed,

ill-fastened, and were often lost in the stiff clay[1302]. If, in view

of facts like these, we feel disposed to allow that the Rushmore plate

was really an ox-shoe, then there follows a strong presumption that the

custom of shoeing bullocks was never altogether given up. That “vis

inertia” of social habit, which so impressed Palgrave[1303], and the

continuity which arose from that condition, are nowhere more noticeable

than in the history of agriculture.

We turn to re-examine the Mediaeval authors already mentioned. On their

writings, partly, one supposes, Thorold Rogers based his statement that

“Oxen were shod, though the shoe is [was] far cheaper than that of the

horse[1304].” Unless, however, Rogers is basing his assertion on writers

other than De Henley and Fitzherbert, whom he frequently quotes, it is

obvious that he has misread his authorities. De Henley, in explaining

his preference for ox-teams, says that “if the horse must be shod” it

will cost “each week more or less a penny in shoeing[1305].” We may

fairly infer, then, that De Henley does not sanction the shoeing of

bullocks, and is a little doubtful about horses. Fitzherbert’s

objection, again, to horse-labour is that the animal must be “well

shodde on all foure feete[1306].” This assertion, standing by itself,

might be taken to imply that cattle were shod on two feet only--the fore

ones. All dispute, however, is removed by Fitzherbert himself, a little

later; speaking of oxen, he definitely tells us, “And they haue no

shoes, as horses haue[1307].” Neither can I find any allusion to the

shoeing of oxen in “Grosseteste’s Rules” (_c._ A.D. 1240), nor in the

“Seneschaucie,” which was probably written about half a century later.

In spite of this negative evidence, one may be bold enough to suppose

that such a careful writer as Thorold Rogers did not go seriously astray

in this matter, and that he had somewhere met with references to the

custom in Mediaeval works. There exists, in fact, some corroborative

testimony, because it is asserted by one who speaks from personal

investigation, that in a fifteenth century will, made in the city of

York, a certain man is described as an “ox-shoer[1308].” This takes us

back beyond Fitzherbert’s days. Two centuries later than the York

evidence, in the years 1666 and 1667, there are clear records of

payments for shoeing oxen in the Northern counties[1309]. Thus there is

a fair case to be put for the prevalence of the custom locally for the

last four or five centuries. Evidently not all oxen were shod. Without

doubt, too, the practice differed according to the county or district.

Recalling, then, the conservatism of agricultural methods, there is a

possibility that the custom has never been altogether in abeyance since

the Roman period. The evidence against the former shoeing of cattle

might be advanced equally to show that horses were not shod, at least,

universally. De Henley’s “if” indicates that the custom was not without

its exceptions, just as some modern equestrians like Mr W. S. Blunt are

exceptional in their opposition to the shoeing. Nor is Mr Blunt’s

doctrine without ancient precedent and parallel among modern primitive

folk. The Jews of Palestine, in the time of Isaiah, did not shoe their

horses, believing that this breach of custom--if it were indeed a

breach--would ensure hoofs “like flint[1310].” This was a great

advantage in warfare, comparable, in the opinion of the prophet, to the

strong man’s possession of sharp arrows and chariot wheels swift as the

whirlwind. As to present practice, the Arabs, the Tartars, the Gauchos

of the Pampas, allow their horses to go barefooted.

Whatever decision we may reach respecting the Mediaeval custom, more

recent records, till within the last few years, afford sufficient

testimony of the shoeing of cattle which worked on the farm. The animals

were also shod when taken long distances to fairs[1311]. The Sussex

tradition is sound on this point, for old drovers still talk of the

former usage. Within the last decade the custom of shoeing has been

abandoned, at the time when “the labour’d ox” is itself about to

disappear. A Sussex farmer told me (1908) that shoeing is unnecessary,

save for bullocks working on the “hard road”: if the creature’s feet

become tender, it should simply be allowed to rest for a day or two. A

second authority puts the matter tersely: “Once begin to shoe, and you

have to keep on doing it.” The operation needed some skill. A rope

(“girt” or girth) was placed around the neck of the animal, while

another cord embraced one fore and one hind leg. Then, by passing the

ropes over a beam--evidently by the aid of a pulley block--the beast was

thrown on its back. To prevent struggling, a man sat on the bullock’s

head and neck. Not unfrequently the long horns would be snapped off by

the impact, in such a way that the horn cores and skull were injured. If

this were followed by excessive bleeding, the ox had to be slaughtered.

Each foot was supplied with two shoes, or, as the Sussex folk term them,

“kews,” or “cues”: “You can’t call them shoes, zur; they are like a

_q_,” and the shape of this letter doubtless originated the nickname.

The word “cue,” as proved by the _English Dialect Dictionary_, is common

in the Southern and Western counties. Sometimes only the outer toe of

each foot was shod, since the exterior edge was believed to get the

greatest strain and pressure. The shoes, as we will continue to

designate them, are in the form of a rough crescent, or a comma much

widened at the head (Fig. 96 _A_). The nails look like tiny hammers

(Fig. 96 _B_). One relic of folk-custom is curious. Before being driven

in, each nail was thrust into “a piece of fat pork,” the belief being

that this made the nail enter the hoof more easily; moreover, if the

“quick” were accidentally pierced, the hurt would be speedily healed.

One blacksmith declared that he was glad when the shoeing of oxen was

given up: he did “not want to shoe any more of the vicious creatures.”

On the contrary, the aged blacksmith of Ditchling, now long past work,

averred that he would rather shoe two bullocks than one horse, although

each bullock required eight “cues” with five nails in each (40 nails),

as against four horseshoes with 28 nails[1312]. But perhaps this worthy,

in his retirement, looked back on his bygone labours through the

pleasant haze of years, and remembered only the happy occasions.

The Ditchling blacksmith, however, unconsciously had the support of an

authority on cattle, Youatt, who, while of opinion that shoeing was a

necessary evil, justifiable only because it increased the speed and

endurance of the bullock, declared that the task was not difficult. He

alludes, adversely, to a contrivance recommended by Bakewell for aiding

the blacksmith. This arrangement, the “trevis” (O. French, _traversan_ =

a cross-beam), was apparently some kind of modification of the

cross-beam described by the Sussex blacksmith. In the Vale of Pewsey,

the ox was placed in a kind of rectangular cage made by fixing

horizontal bars in four uprights. The animal’s leg having been fastened

to one of the posts, “cueing” was an easy matter--at least, so the

Pewsey blacksmith considered. Still another method was to throw the

animal on his back, tie his legs, and “hold down his horns with a

pitchfork.”

Youatt declares that the trevis is dangerous both to the ox and to the

smith. What the bullock suffers from is fear, not natural indocility.

Therefore prepare the beast gradually for the ordeal. Often handle him,

lift his feet, and strike them gently with the hammer. By and by, as he

finds that no harm is done, he will most likely submit meekly to the

process of real shoeing. Little skill is required on the part of the

artisan, but much patience. There is no weakness of particular parts of

the hoof, no “corn,” no tenderness of the frog, no contraction to be

studied. One has simply to fit the metal to the sole. The shoe of the

hind foot, should be thinner, narrower, and lighter than that of the

fore foot; it should also be less curved and more pointed[1313].

If we now inquire why the bullock was, little by little, driven from his

old position, we may find it partly in the two improvements already

mentioned--the drainage of arable lands, and the evolution of the

draught horse. Another reason which has been assigned, was the wild

condition of the boundary hedges of fields, which, although now usually

trimmed and pleached, had been allowed to straggle wastefully and to

increase in height. The consequence was that the horns of the cattle

often became entangled when the team turned at the headland; where the

branches of hedgerow trees hung low, the risk was still greater. The

narrow roads and hollow lanes, too, were frequently so overarched with

branches and climbing plants that the Craven breed of cattle, whose

horns were a yard in length, were in danger of breaking either their

horns or their necks[1314]. During great heat, Mr Stephen Blackmore

informs me, the oxen would often fall exhausted in the furrow, while the

horses laboured on. Always, too, in hot weather, there was anxiety lest

the team, being attacked by flies, should become ungovernable, and,

dragging the plough over ridge and furrow, dash madly for the nearest

thicket or pond, to the dismay and peril of the ploughman. Such are

some of the causes which are supposed to have wrought the revolution,

but surely these reasons must have been effective long before the actual

change came. Another factor, more operative one would think, was the

improvement made in the construction of ploughs, which now became

lighter and more manageable. Roads, also, received greater attention.

Trackways of soft clay, responsive to the cloven hoof, were superseded

by metalled roads and rough causeways of limestone, “in all seasons

unfriendly to the feet of oxen[1315].” We thus see that it needed a

strong set of forces to break the bond of tradition concerning draught

oxen. For some decades, it is true, the horse and the ox continued to be

allies in farm work, but the partnership was virtually dissolved about

the time when the leas were visited by the

“kittle o’ steäm

Huzzin’ an’ maäzin’ the blessed feälds wi’ the Divil’s oän teäm.”

And now the tradition of working oxen has so nearly vanished that,

except in Sussex, it is difficult to glean information on the subject.

To begin the search for a cow-shoe is almost like setting out to find

the golden fleece. Even more difficult would it be to discover, outside

a museum, a specimen of the framework, with its set of bells, which was

formerly fixed above the yoke. The ox-waggoner of these unromantic

times, could we find such a worthy, would tell us that the bells were

employed for ornament and for their musical sound: his ancestors,

however, would have asserted that the jingling noise kept off witches

and persons possessing the “evil eye.”

There is, indeed, a considerable amount of folk-lore respecting the ox,

but, before examining this, time will not be misspent if we examine the

pedigree of the animal.

Most authorities now recognize three species of ox (_Bos_) as having

inhabited our island in Pleistocene and recent geological times. We will

glance at the three species in order. The European bison (_Bos priscus_)

is now found nowhere except in Poland, and need detain us only a moment.

This animal had

[Illustration:

FIG. 97. Skulls of British oxen. A. The Urus (_Bos primigenius_),

from British Pleistocene deposit (British Museum, Natural History,

South Kensington). B. Upper portion of skull of the urus, showing

the long, curving horns, the bases of which form almost a straight

line with the upper skull. C. Skull of the Celtic shorthorn (_Bos

longifrons_), showing the short, stout, downward-curved horns, and

the depression in the skull between their bases. D. Skull of

Chartley bull, one of our Park cattle. This type exhibits the

straight-topped skull, a feature not possessed by all the breeds of

Park cattle. The outline of the horns is comparable to that seen in

the domestic longhorn breed, rather than to the “pitch-fork”

arrangement in the Chillingham cattle.

]

humps on its withers, and since none of our present breeds of cattle

exhibits this feature, the claimant is deemed an impossible

ancestor[1316]. Next in rank is the gigantic ox, known scientifically as

_Bos primigenius_, which was characterised by long curving horns, of

which the basal portions lay in a straight line with the top of the

skull (Fig. 97 _A_). This beast was domesticated in Switzerland in the

Neolithic Age, though, in Britain, it seems to have been known only as a

wild animal during that period. It had made its appearance in our island

in Palaeolithic days, but many writers suppose that it had become

extinct here before the Roman invasion. Without much hesitation this

animal may be considered identical with the urus which Caesar describes

as inhabiting Continental forests. The urus, he tells us, was a little

below the elephant in size, while its appearance, colour, and shape were

those of a bull (_Hi sunt magnitudine paulo infra elephantos, specie et

colore et figura tauri_). Its strength, speed and ferocity were

extraordinary. The Germans captured it by means of pitfalls and killed

it (_Hos studiose foveis captos interficiunt_)[1317]. It is stated as a

fact of no little importance that the urus, or, as it was sometimes

called by German writers, the aurochs, survived in Poland and Lithuania

until A.D. 1627[1318]. Since its extinction, the name of aurochs has

been improperly given to the European bison, which, as already stated,

still lives on.

The interest of the late survival of the urus lies in the theory that

all European breeds of long-horned oxen, and indirectly--through

introductions from the Continent--some of our semi-wild cattle, are

descended from this species. The famous breeds of Chartley (Fig. 98),

Lyme, and Chillingham Park, are placed in this list. We say

“indirectly,” because Professor James Wilson asserts that _B.

primigenius_ is not found in British deposits latter than the Bronze

Age, and hence cannot have left direct descendants in our country.

Wild bulls are, indeed, mentioned in Fitzstephen’s _Life of Becket_, as

existing near London in the latter part of the twelfth century, though

it is extremely doubtful if these were uri[1319]. They were more

probably more akin to our Park cattle. And one reason for believing that

these Park cattle are derived from partially domesticated breeds is

their white colour, which, had natural selection been allowed free play,

would have tended to bring about their extermination. Moreover, the Park

cattle occasionally have black calves; one was born in the Zoological

Gardens, London, in 1909. This fact would seem to indicate that the

original colour was black. Professor Wilson’s theory is, that the Park

cattle are the wild representatives of oxen introduced by the Romans.

Again, the present feral descendants of the supposed domesticated

ancestors are not all of one type as regards skull and horns, so that

the problem is not simple.

[Illustration:

FIG. 98. Wild bull, Zoological Gardens, London; the sole survivor

of the (mixed) Chartley herd. Characteristics: white body, long,

level back, coarse hair, black muzzle. The horns, which are

blackish towards the tips, project slightly downwards and then

curve upwards again. (Cf. the horns of _B. primigenius_ and _B.

longifrons_, Fig. 97 B, C.)

]

Touching the origin of our domestic long-horned breeds, there are two

views extant. The first hypothesis is that our longhorns are traceable

to the Roman invasion. The Romans had a tame long-horned ox of a size

intermediate between _B. primigenius_ and _B. longifrons_, the last

named being a smaller breed, to be noticed shortly. This Roman ox was

perhaps the result of crossing _B. longifrons_ with Italian stock.

Alternatively, it may have been a domesticated form of _B. primigenius_

itself, which, not having passed through so many generations as later

varieties, retained more of the original features--such as the long

horns and straight forehead--its size alone being diminished[1320]. The

other view taken of our long-horned cattle is that of Professor Boyd

Dawkins, who, arguing from the occurrence of _B. longifrons_ as the only

species discovered at the Roman station of Uriconium, credits the

Scandinavian invaders with the importation of the long-horned

race[1321]. Professor Wilson has also strongly argued that the Norsemen

brought over our polled cattle. Mr R. Hedger Wallace, in an excellent

contribution to this subject, considers that the longhorns may even have

been introduced from Holstein and the Low Countries in Mediaeval

times[1322]. This might be termed a third hypothesis, and, before

accepting it, the student should carefully read Professor Wilson’s

little volume.

We pass to the last of our ancient types, the “Celtic shorthorn” (_Bos

longifrons_ = _B. brachyceros_), already mentioned as known to the

Romans. This smaller ox had an abnormally developed forehead, hence its

name _longifrons_. The short horns and the depressed curve of the upper

portion of the skull frontal should be compared with the corresponding

features in the urus (Fig. 97 _C_). The Celtic shorthorn was

domesticated in Britain in the Neolithic period, and during the Bronze

Age it was our characteristic, if not our only ox, and occupied this

[Illustration:

FIG. 99. Highland cattle, Perthshire. These cattle are mixed

descendants of the Celtic shorthorn (_Bos longifrons_), they have a

shaggy coat, and the horns, which are set widely apart, have a tuft

of hair between their bases. The animals shown in the illustration

are of a tawny-brown colour.

]

position on the arrival of the Romans. Its remains have been found in

vast quantities among the ruined lake-dwellings of Croyland[1323], and

also in turbaries in various parts of England[1324]. In short, if

Professor Wilson be correct, this ox represents our original native

breed. The ox described by Nilsson under the name of _B. frontosus_ is

believed to be the same, or a closely allied species[1325]. From the

black Celtic shorthorn our black cattle of Wales and the Highlands (Fig.

99) are probably derived, though inter-breeding has doubtless much

diminished the purity of the strain. It is curious to find that _B.

longifrons_ is, by some, supposed to have been originally a stunted

variety of _B. primigenius_. Actual crossing of the breeds is unproved.

The larger animal, it is believed, became locally dwarfed by

unfavourable environment, and was hence more easily subjugated by

Neolithic man[1326].

Once having tamed the ox, early man soon used it for purposes of haulage

and carrying burdens. The paintings on ancient Egyptian sepulchres,

which go back nearly to the days of polished stone implements, exhibit

several breeds of the ox tribe, both bearing the yoke and drawing the

plough[1327]. Again, Dr T. Rice Holmes cites authorities to show that an

ox drawing a plough is depicted on rock-carvings in Scandinavia[1328].

And that the animal was used as food there is abundant testimony

afforded by the nature and condition of the bones unearthed from barrows

and primitive settlements.

With the position of the ox in prehistoric times is intimately connected

its status in folk-lore and history. At once, however, we notice that

the ox has not here played such a prominent part as the horse. With

regard to sacrifice, Jacob Grimm sums up the case by the axiom that

agricultural nations have leaned more towards bovine, and warlike

peoples towards equine sacrifices[1329]. We may accept this as a general

tendency, but perhaps not more. Among the Greeks and Romans, indeed,

bullocks were the favourite victims[1330]. It will be remembered, too,

that the Philistines, when about to send back the Ark of Jehovah to the

Israelites, selected for the purpose two milch kine which had never been

subjected to the yoke. These kine were offered as a burnt-offering by

the jubilant Israelites when the end of the journey was reached[1331].

In Sweden, almost down to the time of Grimm (b. 1785, d. 1863), there

existed cattle known as “God’s cows.” Grimm sagaciously hints that the

term had its origin when such animals were claimed as priestly

dues[1332]. One is inclined to trace the expression further, namely, to

the days of real sacrifices. Among the old Norse and Alamannic tribes

the sacrifice of oxen was a custom which was eradicated with great

difficulty. A letter written to St Boniface (died A.D. 755) speaks of

ungodly priests who offered bulls and he-goats to heathen deities (_qui

tauros et hircos diis paganorum immolabant_)[1333]. Gregory the Great,

in a letter to the Abbot Mellitus (A.D. 601), uttered a like complaint

against the Angles: “_Boves solent in sacrificio daemonum multos

occidere_[1334].” The horns of cows intended for sacrifices were

bedecked with garlands[1335], somewhat in the manner of the Swiss cows

which are adorned with ribbons by their herdsmen. To witness the

inveteracy of custom concerning the cult of the ox, it is only necessary

to cross over to Brittany at the period of the great religious

processions. Notably, one should get a glimpse of the display made

during the “Pardon” of St Cornély at Carnac. At that period cattle are

driven many miles to be sprinkled with holy water at a sacred well. Such

farmers as can afford the gift, present an ox as an oblation to the

Church. As soon as the animal has been blessed, it is led away to be

sold by auction, the money being delivered to the church authorities.

Until about a century ago, at Clynnog in North Wales, cattle were

similarly offered to St Beuno. Apparently, both in Wales and Brittany, a

Christian saint had supplanted a pagan deity. Indeed, at a Roman villa

in Carnac, Mr James Miln dug up the votive image of an ox--a suggestive

discovery[1336].

There is another phase of the ox’s domination--that connected with the

soothsayer. The ancient Cimbrians swore oaths over a brazen bull[1337].

In Hindoo folk-lore, the bull appears in the ceremonial associated with

childbirths, weddings, and funerals[1338]. In ancient Rome, as is

familiar to most readers, the ox figured in oracles. Speaking with a

man’s voice, the beast gave dire warnings, such as that which bade

Caesar beware the Ides of March[1339]. White oxen were sacrificed to

Jupiter, and black ones to Pluto. The black ox was therefore deemed

accursed, a herald of ill-luck. In this superstition lies the

explanation of such a proverb as, “The black ox has trodden on his

foot,” allusions to which are found in old writers like Thomas Tusser

and Heywood the dramatist. Perhaps of more interest to us is Kemble’s

statement that there are records of bulls having been used for

divination in England[1340] (p. 435 _supra_). In the Bronze and Early

Iron Ages oxen were frequently sacrificed at graves when interments took

place, as indicated by the prevalence of bones and teeth in the mounds.

It is supposed that the animals formed part of the funeral feast. Ox

skulls (_B. longifrons_) are recorded from many round barrows of the

Aeneolithic (Copper-Stone) and Bronze period[1341]. But more remarkable

was Sir R. Colt Hoare’s discovery, in a barrow near Amesbury (Wilts.),

of the skeletons of two children, each resting on the head of a cow. The

animal appeared to have been of small size. The head of one child lay to

the East, that of the other to the West[1342].

There will perhaps be always some doubt as to which animals were used by

prehistoric folk as daily food, and which were eaten only on ceremonial

occasions. It seems probable that the earlier peoples did not commonly

eat beef. Contrariwise, there is good evidence to show that horseflesh

was much sought after, and we have seen how strong was the later

tradition and how difficult it was to destroy it. Pliny relates the case

of a man who was brought before the Roman people, and condemned to

exile, for having killed an ox for purposes of food. The grave part of

the offence was that the wretch had slain the beast--the partner in

man’s labours--with as little compunction as he would have killed one of

his own peasants[1343]! And Virgil instances the eating of oxen

(_juvenci_ = young bullocks) at banquets as a sign of degeneracy, and

as not having existed in the Golden Age[1344]. Other classical writers

give utterance to a like misgiving. This tradition of a “Golden Age” was

probably an instance of subconscious recollection of the pastoral stage

of society.

Honour, therefore, was reserved for the ox. Labour did not diminish its

dignity. But since wealth sprang from labour, whether of man or beast,

the Athenians did not deem it amiss to stamp the figure of an ox upon

their coins[1345]. Yet the Athenians, Professor Frazer tells us, were

accustomed to sacrifice the ox with elaborate ritual as the

representative of the spirit of vegetation. The sacrifice was known as

“the murder of the ox” (βουφόνια). Apart, too, from actual sacrifice,

there was a mysterious virtue imputed to the animal. Thus, the Egyptian

reverence for cows, which were regarded as embodiments of Isis, and

which were never killed, has been fully established by Professor Frazer,

who attributes the worship to either the pastoral or the agricultural

stage of Egyptian development. The kings of Northern Europe were

accustomed to take with them, when set on great enterprises, one or more

sacred cows, to yield a supply of potent elixir that would ensure

success[1346]. Bulls drew the chariots of Frankish monarchs[1347]. At

this point, the past is revealed in the present, for Defoe records how

he witnessed, near Lewes, the strange spectacle of “an ancient lady of

very good quality” being drawn to church in her own coach by six oxen.

This was done, however, not from “Frolick or Humour,” but from

necessity, the roads being so deep and miry[1348]. In the same county,

too, it was the custom, down to our own days, for a farmer who had

employed oxen on his land to be drawn to his burial by an ox-team[1349].

The symbolic side of our subject deserves a word or two. The figure of

an ox was emblematic of St Luke, and in later times, a similar device

was representative of St Frideswide, St Leonard, and St Sylvester[1350].

As the ox gradually lost its prestige, and the symbolic was replaced by

the secular, fables superseded the older reputable beliefs. All are

familiar with the celebrated “Dun Cow,” said to have been slain by the

doughty Guy of Warwick (cf. p. 199 _supra_). It was about four yards in

height, and six in length, with a head proportionately large. As

described in the old ballad:

“On Dunsmore heath I also slewe

A monstrous wyld and cruell beast,

Calld the Dun Cow of Dunsmore heath,

Which many people had opprest.

Some of her bones in Warwick yett

Still for a monument doe lye[1351].”

The basis of this legend of Sir Guy, according to good authorities,

belongs to a period previous to the Norman Conquest.

In Chapter IV. we had occasion to refer to the bones of the Dun Cow. In

recalling the story, the subject of inn-signs deserves a moment’s

notice. The Bull, whether Black, White, or Red, is very popular on

tavern sign-boards, but it is a little curious that the Ox is not

common, and is, in fact, now becoming rare. The Cow takes the place of

the Ox, and is represented as of various colours, Red, White, Brown,

Dun, and Spotted. The Wild Bull is met with, to say nothing of the

Chained Bull and the Bull and Chain. There is reason to believe that the

Ox signs formerly held a more favoured position. In nursery rhymes, the

animal was certainly prominent. The cow that jumped over the moon has

its fellow in the childish jingles of other lands besides ours. There is

also a German counterpart of the bull who tolled the bell when pussy was

drowned, for in a twelfth century manuscript the bull is made to read

the Gospel over the dead body of the wolf[1352]. The tradition that oxen

talk in their stalls on Christmas night is old, but is probably

post-Christian--there being no likely pagan basis for the story.

We may conclude with a notice of a pleasant custom, once common--the

giving of pet names to oxen and cows. Richard Carew (1769) states that

Cornish folk were much addicted to the practice: “Each Oxe hath his

severall name, upon which the drivers call aloud, both to direct and

give them courage as they are at worke[1353].” With dairy cows the

nomenclature was quite as diversified. Excluding the “fancy names” of

the breeder’s herdbook, we find such appellations as Whytelocke (in a

will _c._ A.D. 1546); Fyll Kytt (A.D. 1551); Cherry and Cherrye (in

wills, A.D. 1546, 1585); Shakespeare (A.D. 1793); Fill Bowl and Fill Pan

(A.D. 1809)[1354]. Such names as Daisy, Damsel, Grizzle and Straighthorn

are representative of old Hampshire[1355]. Then there are the names made

familiar to us in literature, for example, “Jetty,” “Lightfoot,” and

“Whitefoot,” of Jean Ingelow, “Brockie” and “Gowans” of Sir Walter

Scott[1356]. Pet names are still given to milch cows, as Mr Edward

Thomas has observed in his _South Country_. Monotonously, persuasively,

the cowboy calls, in turn, to such cows as linger to crop the roadside

sward: “Wo, Cherry! Now, Dolly! Wo, Fancy! Strawberry! Blanche!” and so

on, throughout a pleasant roll-call[1357].

But now that the ox no longer drags his burden along the dusty

turnpike, he receives no nickname. He is merely merchandise--the subject

of transactions between the butcher and the grazier. Not the least

lamentable feature in his history is the fact that no one remembers, or

cares to remember, his social services in the past. Knowledge of the ox

as a toiler of the field has all but departed, and, with oblivion,

kindliness perchance has diminished. “Thou shalt not muzzle the ox when

he treadeth out the corn[1358],” said the Mosaic law. Nowadays, one

hears of Societies whose work, imperatively necessary, consists in

watching, with friendly eye, the interests of dumb, driven cattle. It is

a little doubtful whether any hardships connected with the use of

draught oxen ever exceeded, or equalled, the cruelty which is

oftentimes, if reports be true, associated with the lives of fatted

kine.

CHAPTER XII

RETROSPECT

We are now in a position to see whither the lines of our inquiries

converge, and to draw a few general conclusions. Since each chapter has

been provided with its own summary, the retrospect will not detain us

long.

We began by reviewing the facts with regard to the existence of

Christian churches on ancient pagan sites. It was soon discovered that

the chief testimony was afforded by tangible relics. These objects

comprise, on the one hand, rude stone monuments, ancient burial mounds,

prehistoric earthworks, and sacred wells, existing in close association

with parish churches; and, on the other, of scraps of treasure-trove,

such as bones, urns, coins, and implements, thrown up by the spade. The

material relics, it is true, did not complete the evidence. A little was

learned from place-names, and more, perhaps, from folk-stories

concerning the deeds of fairies and witches, giants and demons, who

baulked the efforts of the early builders. These traditions, widespread

and genuinely spontaneous, are--in whatever way we may choose to explain

and interpret them--valuable records of true folk-memory. Our general

verdict respecting the sites was that, in many instances, they were

originally of pagan selection, although no existing building can be

produced which exhibits, as a structure, undoubted continuity from the

days of heathendom.

From the site we went on to consider the church fabric. It was seen that

some of the earliest churches were raised during periods when the

community thought it wise to plan buildings adapted both for defence and

worship. The truth of this proposition will, by most students, be

deemed to have been satisfactorily proved. The part of the building

specially designed for protection was the steeple, which was frequently,

by turns, conning tower, beacon, treasure-chamber, and fortress.

Touching this ancient use, folk-tales have the true ring.

As the centuries passed away, defensive towers became unnecessary, yet

the idea survived in slight architectural features, now meaningless,

unless interpreted by the light of history. The nave, however, continued

to have its social value for several hundred years. Partly owing to the

Reformation of the sixteenth century, partly in consequence of the

pressure of population and the subsequent provision of more suitable

buildings for secular purposes, even the nave was at last forbidden to

the trader and the religious dramatist. Only a few trivial vestiges,

such as the affixing of public notices on the church door, remain to

tell of the old latitude given to customs, almost all traces of which

have vanished from the memory of the common folk. We must except from

this oblivion the village chatter about Cromwell’s soldiers stabling

their horses in the nave, the gossip about dog-whippers and dicing, and

the numerous bits of scandal coming down from the less creditable

periods of church history. All of these stories possess a germ of

reality. With respect, however, to the current explanations of “lepers’

windows,” squints, “priests’ chambers,” and deflected chancels, there is

no direct tradition, these explanations having been obtained from

outside sources.

Again, with regard to the orientation of churches, the reasons given by

country folk are obviously hearsay presentations of what has been taught

by educated persons. We have, it is true, the records of ecclesiological

writers to aid us, but these are, unfortunately, rather contradictory.

Priest and architect seem to have conspired to keep any actual details

of tradition to themselves, supposing, indeed, that any precise canons

ever existed. This select corporation may have handed down the theory

and the practice, but the rite is now shorn of much ceremonial, and the

custom is followed almost blindly. Moreover, modern builders appear to

be very careless in their alinements. The staple rudimentary idea of

orientation is clearly pagan, and the broad general tradition of

sun-alinements must have been well kept during the early centuries of

church-building, whether any definite, exact rules as to seasonal

alinement were observed or not. If the orientation of modern churches is

settled in a somewhat haphazard manner by the builders, and if the

primitive idea has become blurred and indefinite, the orientation of

graves affords a splendid example of unconscious folk-memory. Not only a

sexton, but probably any villager chosen at random, would take into

account the East-and-West direction in digging a grave, though he might

not be able to assign a reason for his method. The primitive purpose has

long since been driven aside by the force of events, and even the

symbolists have had to introduce secondary explanations.

In burial customs, with their numerous little superstitious observances,

the survival of folk-memory is well displayed. It is needless to repeat

the evidence here--how, in recent years, objects have been

surreptitiously, and even openly, buried with the dead; how the funeral

feast, in an attenuated form, lingers on; how we still scrupulously don

the funeral garb, once the sign of deprecation or fear; how graveyard

teeth are used as charms and remedies. True, the underlying ideas have

much altered; witness, for instance, the modern reasons put forward to

justify the wearing of mourning; but so far as the practices are

affected, we are still living, though, of course, unavowedly, in the

Neolithic period. The superstitions relating to death cannot be expelled

from the uneducated mind, which realizes too well that the event itself

is inescapable. Hence the prejudice against cremation, stubbornly

defying enlightened opinion, and hence the stories of ghosts and

apparitions furtively believed in by many persons who would be ashamed

to admit such credulity.

The folk-memory connected with the points of the compass supplied us

with some curious little touches of local superstition, and with the

familiar objection to burial on the North side of the churchyard--an

inherited antipathy coming down from prehistoric times. Next, the

churchyard yew presented a complicated problem. During the eighteenth

century there appears to have existed an echo of the days when the

churchyard yew was pruned for purposes of archery. In the few instances

where traditions concerning archery are still extant, there is a strong

suspicion that folk-memory has been “assisted” by local writers and

rambling antiquaries. Indeed, the strange silence about the yew in

genuine popular legend is so complete as to be amazing. One does not

refer to accounts of the employment of the yew on Palm Sunday, and other

similar observances; at most, these are valid only as furnishing

secondary motives. The real puzzle remains. Here we have a graveyard

tree, possessing strong distinctive characters--sombreness, strength,

longevity, perpetual verdure--appealing eloquently to human sentiment.

The planting of the tree was a custom in the early days of British

Christianity, and the practice has never become obsolete. Individual

trees, when decayed or uprooted, have been replaced by fresh ones. In

face of the cumulative testimony we cannot believe that the choice of

the yew, like that of the elm or ash, was merely casual; yet most of the

trustworthy tradition respecting the tree has long since disappeared in

a most extraordinary manner.

Rapidly passing on, we recall the chapter relating to the horse-cult.

Neglecting the minor details, we observe, in the obstinate prejudice

against eating horseflesh, a reversal of prehistoric ideas. Here, at

least, the Church made little admitted compromise, though the pagan

habit died hard, and backslidings are recorded. Strange to say, few

persons could give a reason, except that derived from the Jewish law,

for the general repugnance. On broad grounds, we should have expected to

find some curious, inconsequent explanation, such as that involved in

the superstitious fear of killing robins and swallows, or of eating

certain kinds of fish. There could scarcely be any rooted distaste for

horseflesh, nor natural repulsion to so clean an animal. Yet the

original ecclesiastical ban has lingered long after its actual effective

force has been lost. Perhaps a partial explanation is found in the fact

that we have always had numerous other domestic animals which have

furnished us with flesh food, though the native stores have had to be

supplemented by importation.

While folk-memory has sub-consciously kept alive the antipathy to

horseflesh, the story of the working ox supplies us with an excellent

illustration of the direct failure of oral tradition. The use of the

bullock as a beast of draught constituted an economic question simply.

So soon as the immediate material advantage was removed, owing to the

disuse of ox-labour, all interest in keeping up the tradition was lost.

Consequently, it is extremely difficult to get sound information

respecting a custom so recently abandoned, and not one person in a

hundred has ever seen an ox-shoe. Had the ox been pre-eminently

connected with British and Early Teutonic sacrifices and superstitions,

as was the horse, we should almost certainly have inherited a number of

vagrant traditions. As it is, we possess but a few old ballads, legends,

and nursery rhymes, like that of the Dun Cow of Warwick, or the cow that

jumped over the moon.

The study of the ox, indeed, helps us to appreciate exactly where the

strength and the weakness of folk-memory lie. Roughly speaking, the

soundest traditions are concerned either with essential details of

urgent social economy, or with religion and superstition. In these

matters, oral transmission is usually faithful. “This story shall the

good man teach his son.” But let an industrial practice be dropped,

through its being no longer necessary or profitable, and a few decades

will wipe out all direct remembrance. The most stupid myths will arise

to account for this or that visible relic of the industry or custom. So

long as the occupation brings material gain, the tradition is

scrupulously passed on from father to son. Of superstition, or of

widely-felt fears, affecting both body and spirit, there is the same

careful transmission and the same vivid retention. Scenes of horror also

remain long in the memory of the people; hence we meet with traditions

of battles, massacres, raids, burnings. Just in proportion as the

historical facts grow tenuous, the accounts become distorted and

exaggerated, as, for instance, in the Irish legends about Cromwell.

There are minor divisions of each series, such as those which comprise

the stories about buried treasure, ghosts and “barguests,” omens and

amulets, together with superstitions respecting personal

characteristics, times and seasons, health and disease, with many other

matters.

Viewing broadly the tract occupied by folk-memory, we indeed find

certain stable elements. We see the peasantry, diminishing numerically,

but still forming a great multitude, slow-moving by nature, and

tenacious of their heritage of folklore. The dull, mechanical monotony

of the lives of many of the industrial classes, again, tends to check

any breaking away from tradition. Our educational system is, alas, still

so uniform as to put a curb on originality, hence there is a tendency

for ideas to keep their traditional set. Opposed to these conservative

factors, there is at work a well-known biological principle. As our

society--to use the Spencerian phrase--is being slowly transformed from

a state of homogeneity to one of heterogeneity, as the individual

becomes separated and specialized from the mass, the habit of acting

instinctively like blind units of the human crowd is slowly lost, while

race-memory is weakened, and the primitive faculty of unconsciously

preserving and transmitting unwritten lore becomes atrophied and almost

worthless.

Even the wofully scanty records of folk-memory such as those which we

have noticed, are destined soon to disappear. Education, in spite of its

cramped conditions, is destroying many foolish beliefs and baneful

superstitions. But it is doing more than this; for the printed book and

the daily newspaper not only obliterate folk-memory, but remove the need

for its lawful exercise. The reader no longer relies on oral tradition,

but on the printed pages of history and on works of reference. Scarcely

can we tell whether an important event took place five years ago, or a

dozen years ago. The speech and actions of famous men become confused in

popular tradition--always there is some book wherein the record is kept.

A credulous antiquary may proclaim that a certain mound is a barrow, and

though the “barrow” was actually raised within the past twenty years,

few folk can come forward to gainsay the statement. Or some old shepherd

“believes” that he has used flint celts for bell-clappers, whereas it is

more likely that he has merely heard, or read, of such a practice. In

fact, we are swiftly approaching the time when folk-custom and

folk-memory will be so utterly vitiated by books and lectures as to be

worthless. Caution is especially necessary at the present day. In his

address to the British Association in 1910, Mr W. Crooke gave a timely

warning respecting the “half-trained amateur.” Such a person, visiting

India, “may see a totem in every hedge, or expect to meet a corn-spirit

on every threshing floor.” And, at home, the rash enthusiast may see an

idol in every stone heap, an Iberian in every dark-haired man, a symbol

in every line of an ancient building, a prehistoric grave in every stray

bit of potsherd.

There is, however, a middle course of action. And, though folk-memory is

waning, there is work which can be done, if it be done quickly. There

are still waifs and strays of custom to be collected and correlated.

Every village clergyman has his parish registers, which, though

unfortunately not reaching back so far as one could wish, may yet give

information on some of the topics which we have studied. The local

antiquary who will make a precise record of all discoveries which

connect the present with the past, will do great service. The muniment

room, with its deeds and charters, sometimes yields us timely help. The

old chest, with its wills, leases, and covenants, may, in a few

scattered sentences, throw light on some quaint custom. The ballads and

folk-songs, which are now being so sedulously collected and studied,

still safeguard many curious fancies and superstitions. All these

sources will gradually yield less and less to the searcher. It is true

that there are libraries full of volumes which treat of antiquities,

folk-customs, and folk-lore, but the details need to be carefully

re-arranged, and, in many instances, to be re-vivified by comparison

with the living present.

ADDENDA

Page 9. _Churches on Roman foundations._ The piers of the chancel arch

of Bosham church, Sussex, rest on enormous square bases, which are

believed to be Roman. The capitals were also probably copied from Roman

models. Mr P. M. Johnston, F.S.A., in _Victoria Hist. of Sussex_, 1907,

II. p. 362, suggests that the work represents “possibly the triumphal

arch of Vespasian’s basilica.” Roman relics have been found under the

floor of this pre-Conquest church.

St Michael’s church, St Albans, retains much Roman material in its walls

and piers.

Since this chapter went to press, I have read Mr Montagu Sharpe’s

_Parish Churches on Romano-British Sites_, 1909, in which evidence is

adduced to show that many of our parish churches occupy the sites of

pagan rural chapels (_sacella_) and are closely associated with the

lines of centuriation as planned by Roman surveyors. The sacellum was a

small unroofed place consecrated to a deity (p. 4), containing an altar,

and sometimes a shrine (_aedicula_). The sacellum was also used for

non-religious purposes, e.g. as a place of refreshment. Mr Sharpe states

that the Roman surveyors divided a district into areas or “blocks” by

means of four public ways (_viae vicinales_). In the canton of the

London Civitas a side of such a square measured 1⅛ miles (p. 2). Maps

are given, one of which shows that 30 parish churches of the Isle of

Wight “had intimate connection with the lines of the Roman Survey” (p.

3). Such churches are especially found near cross-roads.

Mr John Ward’s _The Roman Era in Britain_, 1911, pp. 111-113, deserves

notice in this connection, especially with regard to the conflict

between the historical evidence and the “comparative silence of

archaeology.”

Page 14. _Classification of earthworks._ A portion of the scheme is

appended, in order to explain the groups of earthworks to which

reference is made.

A. Promontory fortresses: partly inaccessible, on account of cliffs or

water, partly defended by artificial walls or banks.

B. Hill-or Contour-forts: fortresses situated on hill-tops, with

artificial defences following the natural line of the hill.

C. Rectangular, or other simple enclosures, including forts and towns of

the Romano-British kind.

D. Castle mounts: forts consisting of a mount, with an encircling ditch

or fosse.

E. Castle mounts with baileys: fortified mounts wholly or partly

artificial, having an attendant court or bailey.

Page 118. _Churches as fortresses._ The church of St Michael,

Torrington, Devon, was employed by the Royalists (1646), both as a

prison and a powder magazine. Owing to an explosion, probably

accidental, the church was blown up, and about 200 prisoners were

killed.

The town referred to by Thorold Rogers seems to be Alton.

Page 161. _Arms taken to church._ A few of the old oak seats in Clovelly

church, Devon, are notched, and it has been supposed that the purpose

was the accommodation of weapons. In one case there is a corresponding

hole in the floor, rectangular in shape, which may have been intended to

receive the butt end of a musket (cf. the stands in City churches for

holding the sword of the Lord Mayor).

Respecting the rating of the clergy for armour, see _Notes and Queries_,

11th Ser., IV. p. 468.

Page 167. _The Borsholder._ The powers of this official are enumerated

in William Lambard’s work, _The Duties of Constables, Borsholders,

Tythingmen, and such other lowe Ministers of the peace_ (1583), pp. 15,

16, 20, etc.

Page 201. _Objects in churches._ An enormous pole was formerly suspended

in a horizontal position in the nave of Bosham church, Sussex. It was

traditionally said to be the staff of a Mediaeval giant, Sir Bevis of

Southampton, who was accustomed to stride across Bosham Harbour at one

step, on his way to Southampton (K. H. MacDermott, _The Story of Bosham

church, Sussex_, 1906, pp. 14-15). For a list of curiosities formerly

preserved in pagan temples, see J. Beckmann’s _History of Inventions,

Discoveries, and Origins_, trans. by W. Johnston, 1846, I. pp. 283-4.

Page 344. _Plan of churchyards._ Additional examples of churches which

have little space on the North side: West Tarring, Sussex; Northam and

Clovelly, Devon; Hambledon, Surrey. Small South yards: Ferring and

Lyminster, Sussex.

Page 346. _Introduction of headstones._ It is asserted that the

churchyard of Grasmere, Westmoreland, was devoid of gravestones until

the early part of the nineteenth century, and was used as the playground

of the village school. Wordsworth thus refers to the churchyard in _The

Brothers_:

“An orphan could not find his mother’s grave;

Here’s neither head nor footstone, plate of brass,

Cross-bones nor skull,--type of our earthly state

Nor emblem of our hopes: the dead man’s home

Is but a fellow to that pasture-field.”

Page 405. _Tennyson and the yew._ Two other lines from the same poem

(_In Memoriam_, XXXIX. _vv._ 1, 2) deserve notice:

“Dark yew, that graspest at the stones

And dippest toward the dreamless head.”

These lines suggest the Breton superstition that the yew sends out a

root into the mouths of the dead.

Page 412. _Drawings of the horse._ Sketches of hog-maned horses, bearing

signs of halters, have recently been discovered in the Magdalenian caves

of North Spain.

Page 440. _Superstitions respecting the horse._ In Bavaria, it was

formerly the custom for horses to be taken to church once every year, to

peep at the altar or the effigy of the local saint. This observance was

supposed to ensure good health to the animals during the next

twelvemonth. (_Notes and Queries_, 11th Ser., III. p. 266, authority

cited.) The practice is still followed in Italy.

In our own country, horses were taken at Easter into the “middle” of

Hertfordshire churches to be blessed. (_Notes and Queries_, 11th Ser.,

III. p. 318.)

Page 460. _Curved ridges due to plough-teams of oxen._ The curvature

indicative of ancient tillage generally takes the form of a flat

reversed S; in other words the unwieldy team turned to the left when

approaching the headland. Mr T. Blashill (_Jour. Brit. Archaeol.

Assoc._, N.S., II. pp. 218-23) deduces that the old-fashioned heavy

ploughs turned the furrow-slice to the left. This is not, however, a

necessary conclusion. A reversed S-curve might be associated with a

right-handed mould-board. Moreover, Dr W. Fream (_Elements of

Agriculture_, 1892, p. 45) asserts that “none of the old ploughs turned

a furrow”; they stirred the earth but did not turn it over. In such a

conservative occupation as agriculture, one would scarcely expect to

find such a revolution as Mr Blashill postulates. He observes that

modern ploughs are so made that the furrow-slice is thrown to the right,

and the team also turns in that direction at the headland. A similar

feature is noticeable in old cultivation ridges in many parts of the

Continent, where the curve is more frequently that of a flat S, not

reversed. It should be remembered that the old turnwrest plough,

formerly employed in some parts of England, enabled the ploughman to

throw the furrow either way.

The “line of beauty” traced by old ploughs is alluded to by William

Mason, in his _English Garden_, Bk II., ll. 51-6 (Vol. I. of _Works_,

1811, p. 237). He is referring to “ploughing steers”:

“That peculiar curve,

Alike averse to crooked and to straight

Where sweet Simplicity resides; which Grace

And Beauty call their own; whose lambent flow

Charms us at once with symmetry and ease;

’Tis Nature’s curve ...”

To prevent overstatement respecting the connection between ox-teams and

the curved furrow, it should be added that formerly there was “a

prejudice, if not a superstition, in favour of crooked ridges” (W. L.

Rham, _Dict. of the Farm_, 1858, p. 291).

INDEX

Abbots Bromley (Staffs.), 160, 185

Abbotsbury (Dorset), 128 n.

Abbotsham (Devon), 345

Aberdeen, 301

Abinger (Surrey), mound, 62-3;

stocks, 165

Achnacree (Argyle), 299

Acoustic jars in churches, 446-9, 451

Acoustic skulls in churches, 444-5, 449-51

Addington (Kent), 46

Addy, Mr S. O., on old Welsh courts, 64;

Touting Hills, 71;

old St Paul’s, 139;

Royal Arms in churches, 144;

theory respecting basilicas, 147-50, 151;

word “church,” 147-9;

“lord’s house,” 148;

ostiarius, 149

Adonis, and Yuletide, 27

Aeneas, and chariots, 429

Aeneolithic Age, 249, 417, 419, 483

Aerolites, in churches, 197;

superstition respecting, 198

Aestheticism in architecture, 238-41

Age of trees, how determined, 366-8

Agglestone, the (Dorset), 35-6

Ainus, burial customs of the, 247

Aird Dhubh (mountain), 352

Airy, Rev. W., on orientation of churches, 222, 226, 227, 233

Aland Isles, 402

Alciston (Sussex), 344

Aldborough (Yorks.), 273

Aldbourne (Wilts.), barrow, 314, 315

Aldworth (Berks.), 374, 398

“Ales” (= feasts), 175-9

Alexander Severus, 422

Alfold (Surrey), stocks, 165;

yew, 221 n.

Alfriston (Sussex), clergy house, 176;

elm, 176, 384

Alinement of churches (see Orientation)

Allcroft, Mr A. H., on Chisbury camp, 14;

Burpham, 16;

Mediaeval earthworks, 16, 60;

defensive churches, 17;

churches near earthworks, 17;

Church Barrow, 30;

castle-mounds, 55, 67;

Cublington earthworks, 60;

mound at Walton-on-the-Hill, 67;

word “Toot,” 71;

window-slits, 116

Allen, Grant, on grave-mounds, 260, 264;

trees on barrows, 270;

objects buried with the dead, 280, 319;

barrow burials, 320;

_Evolution of the Idea of God_, cited, 400

Allen, Mr J. Romilly, on the Chi-Rho, 5;

Irish round towers, 121-2;

orientation of graves, 247;

evolution of “wheel-cross,” 269-70;

coped tombstones, 272;

burial customs of early Christians, 272, 275;

Charon’s penny, 296;

the comb in ritual, 311-12;

burial of crozier with bishops, 311-12;

chariot-burial, 430

Allington (Kent), 75

Alloa (Clackmannan), 275

All Souls’ Day, 27;

Eve, 446

Alnwick (Northumberland), 163

Alpha Centauri, orientation to, 259

Alphamstone (Essex), 84-6

Altars, at East end of church, 205, 208-24;

at West end, 206, 207, 214-17

Altar-tombs, 76, 346

Alton (Hants.), 496

Alvingham (Lincs.), 137

Amber, beads in graves, 300-1;

as a charm, 301

Amesbury (Wilts.), churchyard, 344;

discoveries at, 483

Amulets, in graves, 298, 300;

teeth, used as, 301, 314

Ancaster (Lincs.), 12

Ancestor-worship, 280

_Anchitherium_, 409

Andrews, Dr C. W., on the horse, 408

Angers (France), 447

Anglo-Saxon remains (see under Saxon)

Animism, defined, 279;

Prof. Tylor on, 279-81

Anketell, Rev. R. H., on Alphamstone discoveries, 85, 86

Anne Boleyn’s Well (Surrey), 96

Annual rings, in trees, 364, 365, 366-9

_Apostolical Constitutions_, quoted, 211

Applesham Creek (Sussex), 78

Apsidal churches, 20, 22, 149, 213

Arabs, and magnetic needle, 228;

burial customs, 293;

cardinal points of, 326;

and shoeing horses, 472

Arbalest, or cross-bow, 385, 386

Arber, Prof. E., his “English Scholar’s Library,” 244

_Archaeologia_, cited, 430

_Archaeologia Cantiana_, cited, 428

Archery, British, 385-94;

statutes concerning, 389-90;

practised on the village green, 392;

traditions, 491

Arcturus, orientation to, 259

Arkholme (Lancs.), mound, 56, 61

Arles (France), Council of, 2;

church of St Blaise, 447

Arlington (Sussex), 79

Armitage, Mrs E. S., on castle-mounds, 55

Armour, stored in churches, 157-62;

parish, 158;

town, 158;

funeral, 159, 284;

at Repton, 159;

Darley, 159;

Mendlesham, 160;

Olaus Magnus, respecting, 161-2;

stands for, in churches, 496

Arnold-Forster, Miss F., her _Studies in Church Dedications_, 234

Arrichinaga (Spain), 29

Arrow-heads, 283, 315, 388, 390

Arrows, regulation of manufacture, 390

Art, of primitive man, 411-12, 414, 420-1

Aryans, early orientation among, 325, 328;

supposed Asiatic origin, 333, 382;

and horses, 421-2

Ascension Day customs, 92

Ascham, Roger, on archery, 391

Ash (Kent), 283

Ashburnham (Sussex), 201 n.

Ashburton (Devon), manorial courts, 137;

yew-tree, 391;

acoustic jars, 449, 450

Ashby, Dr Thomas, explorations at Caerwent, 25

Ashby-de-la-Zouch (Leicester), 349

Ashford (Middlesex), 250 n.

Ashtead (Surrey), Roman camp, 11;

cedar and yew in churchyard, 384

Ash-trees, in churchyards, 384

Ash-Wednesday, symbolism of, 317;

and yew, 382

Assandun, battle of, 200

Aston, as place-name, 339

Astronomy, early, 254, 257;

cycles, 256

_As You Like It_, quoted, 460

Athelstan, and horse-breeding, 422

_Athenaeum_, cited, 4, 441

Athenian coins, 484;

sacrifices, 484

Atkinson, Canon J. C., on Whitby Abbey, 234, 239;

charcoal in graves, 289-90;

funeral feasts, 319;

“averils,” 320;

grave-mounds, 357

Aubrey, John, on horseshoe custom, 157;

dancing in church, 185;

burial in a

North-and-South direction, 244;

Tandridge yew, 370-1

Augurs, divination by the left hand, 326, 327;

by the horse, 434, 435

Augustine, and churches, 26

Augustus, Emperor, his villa at Capri, 198;

burial of his horse, 432

Aurochs, the, 477

Austen, Canon G., on Whitby Abbey, 234 n., 235

Australia, burial customs, 247, 313, 322

Austria, 452

Auvergne, churches of, 216

Avebury (Wilts.), earthwork, 13, 30;

church, 13;

Palm Sunday celebration, 194

Avebury, Lord, on the horse, 416

Aveley (Essex), 189

“Averils,” or averil bread, 320

Avisford (Sussex), 314

Axes, made of amber, 299

Aylesford (Kent), “urn-field,” 261;

flat-earth burials, 276;

discovery of bucket, 434

Aysgarth (Yorks.), 259

Baal-worship, 218, 220

Bagshot Sands, 35, 40

Bailey, or bailey-court, 52, 61

Bailiff, chosen in church, 143

Bakewell (Derby), churchyard cross, 329

Bakewell, Robert, on shoeing oxen, 473

Baldock (Herts.), 159

Bale, Bishop, his Protestant plays, 183

Bamberg (Bavaria), 27

Bampton (Norfolk), 222

Banquets, in churches, 178-80;

funeral, 319-21, 419

Baptism, at the church door, 143;

St Jerome on, 220;

superstition, 331

Barclay, E., on Stonehenge, 219

Bards, assemblies of, 33, 98

Bardsey (Yorks.), 59

Barfreston (Kent), 239

Baring-Gould, Rev. S., on holy wells of Cornwall, 96;

wheels of fortune, 202;

deflected chancels, 231;

animals suspended from trees, 443

Barkway (Herts.), 448

Barnet (Herts.), 344

Barrington, Daines, on Fortingal yew, 376;

on “shelter theory,” 384

Barrows, at Abinger, 62-3;

early respect for, 64, 83, 87;

Over Worton, 75;

Ryton, 76;

Brinklow, 76;

Speeton, 78;

Taplow, 81-2;

Ludlow, 82;

of Neolithic and Bronze Ages, 99, 249, 417;

trees planted on, 270;

discussion on word, 270-1;

objects found in, 280, 282-3, 285, 300-1, 430, 483;

fire-kindlers in, 293, 294;

fossils, 302-4, 305;

Aldbourne, 314, 315;

feasts, 320, 438;

North side of, 357;

horse in, 416, 417, 419;

oxen in, 483

Bartholomew Anglicus, quoted, 456

Barwick-in-Elmet (Yorks.), 59

Basildon (Berks.), 373

Basilica, at Southwell, 9;

Reculver, 20;

Silchester, 23;

meaning of word, 146, 151;

Roman, 148, 150;

British, 148, 213;

at Jarrow, 149;

Rome, 150, 214-15;

orientation of, 213, 214-15;

at Bosham, 495

Bateman, T., his excavations of barrows, 416

Battlements, 117

Bavaria, 497

Baye, Baron J. de, on sacrificial custom, 321

Bayeux tapestry, and long-bow, 387;

oxen, 455

Bayonne (France) Cathedral, 231

Beads, in graves, 300-1, 305, 314

Becket’s shrine, 131

Beckett, Sir E. (Lord Grimthorpe), on orientation, 216;

acoustic jars, 447

Beckmann, J., on shoeing horses, 470 n.

Bedale (Yorks.), 107

Bede, the Venerable, on St Alban, 4;

St Martin’s, 20;

temple at Godmanham, 32;

Wessex, 36;

Jarrow, 43;

orientation of graves, 244, 247;

witchcraft, 397;

horse-races, 422;

story of Coifi, 436

Beehive huts, 120

Beeston (Norfolk), 353

Belemnites, in barrows, 307

Belfries, in Ireland, 120-2;

origin of word, 126-7;

horse-skulls found in, 445

Belgium, votive offerings, 203;

caves of, 308;

burial customs, 311

Belloc, Mr Hilaire, on Bishopstoke church, 45;

Pilgrims’ Way, 338, 339

Bells, early, 120-2;

“thief and reever,” 138;

Mediaeval, 448;

on oxen, 462-3, 475

Beltane fires, 403

Beltout (Sussex), 71

Benachie (Aberdeen), 48

Benedictine abbeys, 329

“Benefit of adjuration,” 354

Bengal, grave-gifts of, 313

Bennett, Mr F. J., on sarsens near churches, 40;

Ogbourne Maisey mound, 75

Benson, Mr A. C., quoted, 137

“Beowulf,” use of the word “gallows,” 68;

funeral mounds, 73;

amulets in graves, 300

Berenger, Richard, on horseshoes, 424

Berkeley (Glos.), detached tower, 122;

school in church porch, 154

Berkeley, Bishop G., quoted, 333

Berkshire, yews of, 406

Berwick (Sussex), mound, 75-6;

dovecot, 188, 189

Berzelius, on analysis of bone, 90

Beverley (Yorks.) Minster, 165;

oxen, 452

Bewcastle (Cumberland), 87

Bible, ideas of orientation in, 217-20;

quoted, 318;

symbolism of the North, 334-5;

references to the horse, 420;

white horses, 433;

horse hoofs, 472;

oxen, 481, 487

Bid-ales, 179

Bields (= cattle-shelters), 68

Bildeston (Suffolk), 155

Binstead (I. of Wight), 49

Birch, Mr W. de Gray, on Domesday ox-team, 458

Birling (Kent), 40

Birmingham, St Bartholomew’s chapel, 211

Bishops, burial of, 312

Bishopsgate Street (London), 247

Bishopstoke (Hants.), 45

Bishopstone (Sussex), position of church, 101;

sundial, 162;

chancel, 230;

churchyard, 344

Bishops Stortford (Herts.), 418

Bisley (Glos.), 95

Bison, the European, 475-6

Black Death, the, 175

Black, Mr W. G., on yew in witchcraft, 396

Blackmore, Mr Stephen, 80, 474

Blashill, Mr T., on ancient agriculture, 497

Blickling (Norfolk), 266

Blomfield, Prof. R., on orientation, 209

Bloomsbury (London), 207

“Blue stones,” 35, 193

Blunt, Mr W. S., on shoeing horses, 471-2

Blyborough (Lincs.), 346

Boars’ tusks in graves, 80, 83, 302, 310, 430

Boat, model of Scandinavian, 108

Boldre (Hants.), 384

Bologna (Italy), 216

Bolsterstone (Yorks.), 42

Bolton (Lancs.), 137

Bond, Mr F., on Southwell Cathedral, 9;

Westminster Abbey, 9, 134-5;

age of church towers, 108;

Irish round towers, 121;

size of churches, 134-5;

entasis of spires, 240

Bone-caves, 308, 411, 417

Bones, in churches, 198-201;

as talismans, 321

Bonner, Mr A., on place-names, 32, 43

Bonner, Bishop, and miracle plays, 183

Booty, Rev. C. S., on Rudstone menhir, 43

Borromeo, St Charles, on church-building, 241

Bosbury (Hereford), 123

Boscawen-ûn (Cornwall), 256

_Bos frontosus_, 480

Bosham (Sussex), Roman villa, 9, 495;

deflected chancel, 230;

pole in, 496

_Bos longifrons_, 476, 478, 479, 480

_Bos primigenius_, 476, 477, 479, 480

_Bos priscus_, 475

Boston (Lincs.), mayor chosen in church, 143;

discoveries at, 444

Botontine (= surveyor’s mound), 61

Bottesford (Lincs.), 350

Boulder Clay, 16, 36, 85, 110, 406

Boundaries, barrows on, 69;

treaties concerning, 338

“Bournes” (= intermittent springs), 96

Bovata (= oxgang), 456

Bow, antiquity of word, 387;

kinds of, 387-90

Bowman, J. E., experiments on yews, 365

Bowstaves, statutes concerning, 390, 391;

from the churchyard yew, 394

Brabourne (Kent), 376, 379

Bradford-on-Avon (Wilts.), 115, 171, 172

Brading (I. of Wight), 165

Bradwell (Essex), 23

Brady, J., on English yew timber, 392

Brahmans, the, and praying towards the East, 217;

respect for fossil ammonites, 307

Braintree (Essex), 454

Braitmaier, Miss M., on gable ornaments, 441

Bramber (Sussex), 78

Bramfield (Suffolk), 123

“Brandgruben,” 276

Brand, John, on tithe-barns, 176;

Birmingham church, 211;

vulgar rites, 243;

curious burial, 245;

funeral feasts, 319;

burial on North side, 343;

Edinburgh burial-ground, 351

Branks (= scolds’ bridles), 163

Branscombe (Devon), stone in churchyard, 41;

headstones, 346

Branxton (Northumberland), 354

Bratton Hill (Wilts.), 433, 434

Bray, W., on church porch at Wotton, 154

Bread, stored in churches, 173

Breedon (Leicester), 104

Brenchley (Kent), 52

Brent Pelham (Herts.), stocks, 165;

deflected chancel, 230

Brent Tor (Devon), 129

Bretasche, or guard-house, 53

Bride-ales, 179

Bridgenorth (Salop), 394

Bridlington (Yorks.), 230, 483 n.

Brigg (Lincs.), 453

Brighston (see Brixton)

Brightlingsea (Essex), 143

Brighton and Hove Archaeological Club, 78

Brighton Museum, 80

Brinklow (Warwick), 76

Bristol, St Mary’s Redcliffe, 199

Britain, early settlements, 105-6

British Association, the, 403, 418, 494

Brittany, lingering paganism in, 29;

crosses and calvaries, 37;

church superstition, 103;

dolmens, 270;

peasantry and thunderbolts, 197;

“wheels of fortune,” 202;

objects in churches, 203;

megaliths, 308;

superstitious customs, 446, 496;

“Pardons,” 482

“Brit-Welsh” caves, 437

Brixton (I. of Wight), 90

Brixworth (Northants.), church, 9, 10;

church crypt, 148

Brompton (London), 208

Bronze Age, relics, 67, 84, 85, 99, 249, 249 n., 257,

274, 290, 311, 418, 419, 433;

moundless graves, 261;

coffins, 274, 278;

horse, 416;

rock-carvings, 421;

oxen, 477, 479, 483

Brook (I. of Wight), 101

Brookland (Kent), 123

Brown, Rev. A. W., on Pytchley burials, 80

Brown, Prof. G. Baldwin, on Romano-British churches, 5;

Reculver, 20;

Dover Castle, 20;

St Martin’s (Canterbury), 22;

Jarrow, 23;

Silchester, 24, 30;

St Martin’s (Leicester), 30;

Earl’s Barton mound, 62;

pagan sites, 99;

Lincolnshire towers, 108, 110;

_Eccles_- in place-names, 147;

“coenacula,” 148;

orientation of churches, 213

Browne, Sir T., quoted, 201, 267;

on burial customs, 201, 247;

combs in graves, 311;

yew on funeral pyres, 382-3

Brownsover (Warwick), 15

Bruniquel (Tarn-et-Garonne), 421

Brunne, Robert de, on funeral feasts, 319

Brunswick, arms of, 433

Buckland (Kent), 377

Bucklebury (Berks.), 295

Buick, Rev. G. R., discovery at Whitepark Bay, 418

Bulgarian funeral custom, 318

Bull-baiting, 179

Bullen, Rev. R. A., on Constantine church, 41;

charcoal in graves, 289

Bullock, use of term, 465 (see also Oxen)

Bulls, in divination, 435, 483;

in sacrifice, 481;

in folk-lore, 482, 484, 486

Burghcastle (Suffolk), 11

Burghead (Elgin), 299

Burgh-on-the-Sands (Cumberland), 107

Burgundy, burial custom, 296

“Burh,” meaning of term, 55

Burham (Kent), 4

Burial customs, survivals in, 268-323, 490

Burial feasts, 319-21, 419

Burial-grounds, ancient, near Christian churches, 83-6, 262

Burials, in East-and-West position, 80, 83, 243-9, 352;

North-and-South, 244-5, 246;

in barrows, 249-51, 357;

facing the sun, 249-52;

in cemeteries, 262, 263;

in churchyards, 262, 353;

in church, 262;

in upright position, 266;

on hills, 266-7;

without coffins, 271;

in woollen, 278-9;

of unbaptized persons, 302, 351;

of suicides, 351, 352, 357-9;

in open fields, 359

Burials Bill, 1899, 341

Burial Service, the, 315, 318;

modified, 341

Burke, Edmund, quoted, 342

Burlingham St Andrew (Norfolk), 348

Burnham-on-Crouch (Essex), 344

Burn, J., his _Parish Registers_, cited, 352

Burns, Robert, quoted, 457

Burnsall (Yorks.), 165;

font, 434

Burpham (Sussex), 15, 443 n.

Burrington Camp (Somerset), 258

Burrowes, Stephen, his voyages, 228

Burrows, Mr H. A., on fossil teeth, 308

Bury Fields (Bucks.), 61

Bury St Edmunds (Suffolk), 139

Butler, A. J., on Coptic churches, 221

Butler, Bishop, quoted, 346, 360

Butts, near churchyard, 353;

shooting at, 386;

repair of, 391

Byzantine architecture, 215

Cabot, Sebastian, 199

Caddington (Beds.), 41

Caer Capel (Denbigh), 104

Cae’r Hen Eglwys (Glamorgan), 31

Caerleon-on-Usk (Monmouth), 422

Caerwent (Monmouth), 25

Caesar, on British camps, 89 n.;

on the yew, 362;

British chariots, 421, 422;

the urus, 477;

the Ides of March, 482

Caister (Norfolk), 11

Caistor (Lincs.), Roman camp, 12;

springs, 12, 97

Calcined flints, 292

Calendar, alteration of, 226;

Julian 254

Caligula, and his horse, 439

Calleva Atrebatum (= Silchester), 23

Calvaries of Brittany, 37

Camberwell (London), 206

Camborne (Cornwall), 37

Cambridge, round church, 99;

Emmanuel College, 208;

prehistoric bowstave, 388

Camden, W., on Essex custom, 443

Camels, shoeing of, 470

Campanile, use of, 121;

of old St Paul’s, 148

Cam valley, the, 468

Candles, in graves, 295

Canewdon (Essex), bone in church, 199-200;

battle, 200;

name, 201

Canterbury, churches, 20;

Becket’s shrine, 192;

alinement of cathedral, 230

Canute, his battle with Edmund Ironsides, 200

Cape Colony, 452

Capel Garmon (Denbigh), 104

Capella, orientation to, 221, 259

Capri (Italy), 198

Cardinal points, folk-lore of the, 324-59;

symbolism, 324-59, 404;

Heylyn’s description, 333-4;

in place-names, 339-40

Carew, Richard, on Cornish oxen, 457;

names of oxen, 486

Carnac (France), Mont St Michel, 129;

blessing of oxen, 446;

“Pardon,” 482;

discovery at, 482

Carnarvon, circular churchyards of, 99;

burial at, 312

Carshalton (Surrey), 96

Cartailhac, M. É., on the domestication of the horse, 415

Carthaginians, and temple of Juno, 442

“Carucata,” meaning discussed, 456

Castle Acre (Norfolk), 12

Castles, early, 51-5;

keeps compared with church towers, 107;

mounds, 51-63, 67 (see Moated Mounds)

Cataclew stone, 41

Caterham (Surrey), position of church, 101;

churchyard, 344

Cativolcus, poisoned by yew, 362

Cattle, in the church and churchyard, 186-8;

and yew leaves, 362, 385;

breeds, 453, 455;

Park, 476, 477, 478;

long-horned and short-horned, 478-9;

polled, 479;

black, 480, 483

(see also Oxen)

Caumont, M. de, on deflection of chancels, 231

Cave period, 414, 437;

men of, 439-40

Caves, of France, 308, 411, 412;

of England, 412;

of Spain, 497

Caythorpe (Lincs.), 240

Cedars, in churchyards, 384

Celchyth, Council of, 437

Celtic burials, 276, 299;

horse cult, 433, 441;

pottery, 449, 450

Celtic shorthorn, 476, 479-80

Celts, chariots of the, 421-2

Celts (= stone implements), 79-80, 197, 298, 302

Cemeteries, ancient, 83-6, 262, 299, 353, 354

Centaurs, the, 419

_Century Dictionary_, cited, 363

_Cerithium_ (= fossil shell), 308

Cerne Abbas (Dorset), 96, 427

Ceylon, 309, 452

Chadwell St Mary (Essex), 50

Chagford (Devon), 175

Chained books, in churches, 164

Chaldon (Surrey), 101

Chalk (Kent), 9

Chalk coffin, 351

Chambers, Mr E. K., his _Mediaeval Stage_ referred to, 180;

evolution of ritual and miracle plays, 181-2, 183

Chancels, at East end of church, 205-11;

at West end, 206, 207;

“twisted” or deflected, 229-38, 242, 334;

and rebuilding of church, 233-4, 235

Chapel Carn Brea (Cornwall), 78

Charcoal, in graves, 287, 289-91, 292-3

Chariots, burial of, 276, 429, 430, 431;

early use, 419, 421;

British, 421;

the Latin word discussed, 422

Charlemagne, 263

Charms, teeth, 302, 305;

yew, 396, 397, 399

Charon’s penny, 296

Chart (Kent), 167

Chartley (Staffs.), 477, 478

Charvais (France), 248

Chatham (Kent), 206, 459 n.

Chaucer, his _Wife of Bath_ quoted, 156

Chauncy, Sir H., on orientation, 223

Chedworth (Glos.), 5

Cheltenham (Glos.), 154

Cheriton (Hants.), mound, 74;

spring, 74, 96

Cheriton (Kent), 128

Chertsey (Surrey), 344

Cheshire, scolds’ bridles in, 163

Chesterfield (Derby), 199

Chester-le-Street (Durham), 12

“Chestnuts” of the horse, 411

Chests, church, 168-70, 199, 200

Chichester cathedral, 312 n.

Childeric I, tomb of, 424

Chillingham Park (Northumberland), cattle of, 476, 477

Chilswell Hill (Oxford), 195

Chilworth (Surrey), 131, 269

China, and magnetic needle, 228;

burial custom in, 296;

and eclipses, 397

Chipstead (Surrey), alinement of graves, 230;

deflected chancel, 245;

yew, 377, 379- 405

Chi-Rho monogram, 5, 6, 24

Chisbury (Wilts.), 14

Chislehurst, mound in churchyard, 76-8, 260;

cockpit, 190;

tombstones, 344