more emphatically expressed in these twelfth-century instances. The
centre is usually occupied by a cross, round which, in some cases, were
arranged figures of bishops, angels, and others.
The introduction of these large labyrinths, together with the name which
came at this time to be applied to them in France, namely, _Chemins de
Jerusalem_, suggests the new use to which such arrangements now began to
be put. It is well known that in some cases substitutes for the great
pilgrimage to Jerusalem were allowed to be counted as of almost equal
merit. Thus the Spaniards, so long as they had not expelled the infidel
from their own territory, were forbidden to join the Crusades to the
Holy Land; and were permitted to substitute a journey to the shrine of
S. Jago, at Compostella, for one to the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. By
an extension of the same principle, especially when the zeal of
Christendom for pilgrimages began to cool, easy substitutes for the more
exacting devotion were found in many ways. The introduction of the
Stations of the Cross is ascribed to this cause, the devout following in
imagination of the footsteps of the Saviour in His last sufferings,
being accounted equivalent to visiting the holy places; and somewhat
similarly, the maze, or labyrinth, is said to have been pressed into the
service of religion, the following out (probably upon the knees) of its
long and tortuous path-way, being reckoned as a simple substitute for a
longer pilgrimage.
From such a use as this, it was no great step to the employment of the
maze as a means of penance in other cases. The whole of the intricate
pathway was intended to remind the penitent of the difficulties which
beset the Christian course; and the centre, which could only be reached
by surmounting them, was often called heaven (_Ciel_). Nor could such a
penance be deemed a light one. Though occupying so small a space of
ground, the mazy path was so involved as to reach a considerable length,
whence it was sometimes named the League (_La lieue_). The pathway at
Chartres measures 668 feet; at Sens was a maze which required some 2,000
steps to gain the centre. An hour is said to have been often needed to
accomplish the journey, due allowance being made for the prayers which
had to be recited at certain fixed stations of it, or throughout its
whole course.
At S. Omer are one or two examples of the labyrinth. One at the Church
of Notre Dame has figures of towns, mountains, rivers, and wild beasts
depicted along the pathway, to give, no doubt, greater realism to the
pilgrimage. The existing drawing of another, which has been destroyed,
is inscribed, "The way of the road to Jerusalem at one time marked on
the floor of the Church of S. Bertin." Many of these designs are not
only ingenious, but beautiful. In the Chapterhouse at Bayeux is one
enriched with heraldic figures; that at Chartres has its central circle
relieved with six cusps, while an engrailed border encloses the whole
work. A circular shape was apparently the most popular; the maze at
S. Quentin, with some others, however, is octagonal. The pathway is
usually marked by coloured marbles, sometimes the darker, sometimes the
lighter shades in the design being used for the purpose; at Sens, lead
has been employed to indicate it.
The Revolution, as we have seen, led to the destruction of several
ecclesiastical labyrinths; some, however, became a source of annoyance
to the worshippers, from children attempting to trace the true pathway
during the time of service, and they were removed in consequence.
Labyrinths of this kind do not appear to have been introduced into
England, the only instance known to the present writer being quite a
modern one. This is in the church porch at Alkborough, in Lincolnshire,
where, at the recent restoration, the design of a local maze (to be
noticed further hereafter) was reproduced.
If England, however, has not imitated the continent in this respect, she
has struck out a line no less interesting, which has remained almost
exclusively her own; namely, in the mazes cut in the green turf of her
meadows. Shakespeare has an allusion to these in the "Midsummer Night's
Dream," (Act iii., 3) where Titania says,
"The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud,
And the quaint mazes in the wanton green
For lack of tread are indistinguishable."
Some twenty of these rustic labyrinths have been noted as still
existing, or as recorded by a sound tradition, in England; and no doubt
there have been others which have disappeared, leaving no trace behind.
[Illustration: MAZE AT ALKBOROUGH, LINCOLNSHIRE.]
Among those which have been preserved, the following may be noticed. At
Alkborough, in Lincolnshire, near the confluence of the Trent and the
Ouse, is a maze, the diameter of which is 44 feet; by a happy
suggestion, the design of this has been repeated, as was above remarked,
in the porch of the Parish Church, so that should the original
unfortunately be destroyed, a permanent record has been provided.
Hilton, in Huntingdonshire has a maze of exactly the same plan, in the
centre of which is a stone pillar, bearing an inscription in Latin and
English, to the effect that the work was constructed in 1660, by William
Sparrow. Comberton, in Cambridgeshire, possesses a maze, locally known
as the "Mazles," which is fifty feet in diameter. The pathway is two
feet wide, and is defined by small trenches, the whole surface being
gradually hollowed towards the centre. Northamptonshire is represented
by Boughton Green, which has a labyrinth 37 feet in diameter; and
Rutland has one at Wing, which measures 40 feet.
[Illustration: THE MIZE-MAZE ON ST. KATHERINE'S HILL, WINCHESTER.]
At Asenby, in the parish of Topcliffe, Yorkshire, is a maze measuring 51
feet across, which has been carefully preserved by the local
authorities. At Chilcombe, near Winchester, a maze is cut in the turf of
S. Catherine's Hill; it is square in outline, each side being 86 feet.
It is locally known as the "Mize-maze." One much larger than any yet
noticed is found near Saffron Waldon, in Essex, its diameter being 110
feet. There are local records which prove the great antiquity of a maze
at this place. The design is peculiar, being properly a circle, save
that at four equal distances along the circumference the pathway sweeps
out into a horseshoe projection.
[Illustration: THE MAZE NEAR ST. ANNE'S CHAPEL, NOTTINGHAM.]
A similar plan was followed in cutting a maze, once of some celebrity,
near S. Anne's Well, at Sneinton, Nottingham. The projections in this
case are bolder, and within the spaces enclosed by the triple pathway
which swept around them were cut cross-crosslets. The popular names for
this maze in the district were the "Shepherd's Maze," and "Robin
Hood's Race." This was, unfortunately, ploughed up in 1797, at the
enclosure of the lordship of Sneinton. Nottinghamshire has, however,
another example in the small square one at Clifton.
[Illustration: MAZE FORMERLY EXISTING NEAR ST. ANNE'S WELL,
SNEINTON, NOTTINGHAMSHIRE.]
Many of these turf-cut labyrinths were destroyed during the
Commonwealth, before which period, according to Aubrey in his history
of Surrey, there were many in England. Not a few, however, which
survived that time of wanton destruction, have been obliterated since.
In 1827 one which was on Ripon Common was ploughed up. Its diameter was
60 feet. Another existed till comparatively recent times at Hillbury,
between Farnham and Guildford. At Pimpern, in Dorset, there was formerly
a maze of a unique design. The outline was roughly a triangle, which
enclosed nearly an acre of ground; the pathway was marked out by ridges
of earth about a foot in height, and followed a singularly intricate
course. The plough destroyed this also in 1730.
The names locally applied to these structures often imply very erroneous
ideas as to their origin and purpose. In some instances they are
ascribed to the shepherds, as if cut by them as pastime in their idle
moments; a suggestion, which a glance at the mazes themselves, with
their intricate designs and correctly formed curves, will prove to be
hardly tenable. Two other names of frequent occurrence in England are
"Troy Town," and "Julian's Bower"; the latter being connected with the
former, Julius, son of AEneas being the person alluded to. Some have
from these titles sought to trace a connection with a very ancient sport
known as the _Troy Game_, which arose in classic times, and survived
down to the Middle Ages. It consisted probably in the rhythmic
performance of certain evolutions, much after the fashion of the
"Musical Rides" executed by our cavalry. The origin of the idea is to be
sought in a passage in Virgil's AEneid (Bk. V., v. 583 _et seq._), which
has been thus translated by Kennett:--
"Files facing files their bold companions dare,
And wheel, and charge, and urge the sportive war.
Now flight they feign, and naked backs expose,
Now with turned spears drive headlong on the foes,
And now, confederate grown, in peaceful ranks they close.
As Crete's fam'd labyrinth, to a thousand ways
And endless darken'd walls the guest conveys;
Endless, inextricable rounds amuse,
And no kind track the doubtful passage shows;
So the glad Trojan youth, the winding course
Sporting pursue, and charge the rival force."
Tresco, Scilly, has a maze known as Troy-town; and it would seem that
such were once common in Cornwall, since any intricate arrangement is
often locally called by that name.
It has, however, been pointed out that most of these mazes date from a
time when classical knowledge was not widely spread in England; that, in
fact, the name has probably been given in most instances long after the
date of the construction of the work.
It would seem rather that the original use of these quaint figures was,
as with those continental examples before noted, ecclesiastical. No one
who has had the opportunity of comparing the designs of the English and
the foreign mazes can fail to be struck with the great similarity
between them; suggesting, at least, a common origin and purpose. And
this suggestion is greatly strengthened when we notice that, although
the English mazes are never (with one modern instance only excepted)
within churches, as are the continental instances, yet they are almost
invariably close to a church, or the ancient site of a church. The
Alkborough and Wing mazes, for instance, are hard by the parish
churches; and those at Sneinton, Winchester, and Boughton Green are
beside spots once consecrated by chapels dedicated in honour of St.
Anne, St. Catherine, and St. John. The most probable conjecture is that
these were originally formed, and for long years were used, for
purposes of devotion and penance. Doubtless in later times the children
often trod those mazy ways in sport and emulation, which had been slowly
measured countless times before in silent meditation or in penitential
tears.
A word or two may be added in conclusion on mazes of the more modern
sort, formed for amusement rather than for use, as a curious feature in
a scheme of landscape gardening. These _topiary_ mazes, as they are
called, usually have their paths defined by walls of well-cut box, yew,
or other suitable shrubs; and they differ from the turf mazes in that
they are often made purposely puzzling and misleading. In the
ecclesiastical maze, it is always the patience, not the ingenuity, which
is tested; there is but one road to follow, and though that one wanders
in and out with tantalizing curves and coils, yet it leads him who
follows it unerringly to the centre.
From Tudor times this form of decoration for a large garden has been
more or less popular. Burleigh formed one at the old palace at
Theobald's, Hertfordshire, about 1560; and the Maze in Southwark, near a
spot once occupied by the residence of Queen Mary before coming to the
throne, and Maze Hill at Greenwich, no doubt mark the sites of
labyrinths now otherwise forgotten. Lord Fauconbergh had a maze at
Sutton Court in 1691; and William III. so highly approved of them that,
having left one behind him at the Palace of the Loo, he had another
constructed at Hampton Court.
Literature and art have not disdained to interest themselves in this
somewhat formal method of gardening; for in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries more than one treatise on their construction was
published; while Holbein and Tintoretto have left behind them designs
for topiary labyrinths.
The oldest and most famous maze in our history is "Fair Rosamond's
Bower," already mentioned. Of what kind this was, if indeed it was at
all, it is difficult to say; authorities disagreeing as to whether it
was a matter of architectural arrangement, of connected caves, or of
some other kind. The trend of modern historical criticism in this, as in
so many other romantic stories from our annals, is to deny its
genuineness altogether.
Fortunately although so many of our ancient mazes have disappeared, the
designs of their construction has, in not a few cases, been preserved
to us by means of contemporary drawings; so that a fairly accurate idea
of the type most commonly followed may still be obtained.
We have to thank Mr. J. Potter Briscoe, F.R.H.S., editor of "Old
Nottinghamshire," for kindly placing at our disposal the two
illustrations relating to the St. Anne's Well Maze.
Churchyard Superstitions.
By the Rev. Theodore Johnson.
Among all classes of English people there are mixed feelings relating to
our churchyards. They are either places of reverence on the one hand, or
superstition on the other. The sacred plot surrounding the old Parish
Church carries with it such a host of memories and associations, that to
the learned and thoughtful it has always been God's Acre, hallowed with
a tender hush of silent contemplation of the many sad rifts and partings
among us. We almost vie with each other in proclaiming that deep
reverence for this one sacred spot, so dear to our family life, and
affections, by those mementos of love which we raise over the
resting-places of our lost ones gone before. This is strangely apparent
in the stately monument, where the carver's art declares the virtues of
the dead, either by sculptured figure, or verse engraven, as well as in
the ofttimes more pathetic, and perhaps more beautiful, tribute of the
floral cross or wreath culled by loving hands, and borne in silence, by
our poorer brethren, as the only offering, or tribute, their slender
means allows them to make. Be sure of this one fact, that our English
Churchyards are better kept--more worthy of the name of God's Acre than
in the times past, for what is a more beautiful sight, than to see the
kneeling children around the garden grave of a parent, or a child
companion, adorning the little mound with flowers for the Eastertide
festival. Here we have a living illustration of the truth of the
concluding words of our Great Creed: "I look for the Resurrection of the
Dead and the Life of the World to come."
On the other hand, to the ignorant, and unlearned in these things, the
Churchyard often becomes a place of dread, and it may be, some of the
strange behaviour sometimes seen there arises from this inner feeling of
awe, which in their ignorant superstition they are wont to carry off in
the spirit of daring bravado.
From a close study of the subject, I am led to conclude that the common
unchristian idea, that the churchyard is 'haunted,' whatever that may
mean to a weak or ignorant person, has much to do with it. The evil
report, once circulated, will be handed on to generations yet unborn,
until the simple origin, which at first might have been easily
explained, becomes clouded in mystery as time goes on, and the deep
rooted feeling of horror spreads around us, until even the more
strong-minded among us, feel at times, somewhat doubtful as to whether
there may not be some truth where the popular testimony is so strong.
In country districts, more than in towns, superstition is rife with
regard to our Churchyards. The variety and form of this superstition is
well nigh 'Legion,' and though many of my readers may enjoy an Ingoldsby
experience when read in a well-lighted room, surrounded by smiling
companions, few of them, after such an experience would care to pay a
visit alone to some neighbouring churchyard, renowned for its tale of
ghostly appearances. This will, I think enable me to show that by far
the larger number of churchyard superstitions are purely chimerous
fancies of the brain, and do not owe their origin, or existence, to any
other source, be that source a wilful fraud, or imposition, designed to
produce fear, or merely the imaginative delusion of some overstrained,
or weak brain, which called first it into existence.
Yet there are prevalent ideas or notions, about the churchyard and its
sleepers, as deep-rooted as any wild superstition, and perhaps as
difficult to solve, or to trace to any rational source. I would here
mention one of the most strange, and probably one of the most prejudiced
notions to be met with relating to burial in the churchyard. I refer to
the East Anglian prejudice of being buried on the north side of the
church. That this prejudice is a strong one, among the country people in
certain parts of England, is proved by the scarcity of graves, nay, in
many instances the total absence of graves, on the north side of our
churches.
Some seventeen years ago, shortly after taking charge of a parish in
Norfolk, I was called upon to select a suitable spot for the burial of a
poor man, who had been killed by an accident. After several places had
been suggested by me to the sexton, who claimed for them either a family
right, or some similar objection; I noticed for the first time, that
there were no graves upon the north side of the church, and I, in my
innocence, suggested that there would be plenty of space there;
whereupon my companion's face at once assumed the most serious
expression, and I immediately saw that fear had taken hold of his mind,
as he answered with a somewhat shaky voice, "No, Sir! No, that cannot
be!" My curiosity was immediately aroused, and I sought for an
explanation, which I found not from my good and loyal friend, who would
not trust himself to answer further than "No, Sir! No, that cannot be!"
The sexton's manner puzzled me greatly, for the man was an upright,
straightforward, open-hearted, servant of the Church--but I at once saw
that it would be fruitless to push the matter further with him, so after
marking out a suitable resting place for the poor unfortunate man, who
not being a parishoner of long standing, had no family burial place
awaiting him, I made my way home to think over the whole occurrence.
The cause for non-burial on the north side of the Church was indeed a
mystery, yet that my parishoners had some valid reason for not being
laid to rest there, was apparent; so I set about the task of unravelling
the superstition, if so it may be called.
My library shelves seemed to be the most natural place of research, but
here after consultation with several volumes of Archaeology,
Ecclesiology, and Folk Lore, I could find nothing bearing upon the
subject, beyond that in certain instances relating to Churchyard
Parishes on the sea-coast, the north side by reason of its exposure to
wind and storm, and being the sunless quarter of the burying ground, was
less used than other parts; but here the reason given was in
consideration of the living mourners at the time of the interment, and
not the body sleeping in its last resting place of earth.
After some considerable correspondence with friends likely to be
interested in such a matter, I was rewarded with information that, in
some instances, the northern portion of the churchyard was left
unconsecrated, and only thus occasionally used for the burial of
suicides, vagrants, highwaymen (after the four cross road graves had
been discontinued), or for nondescripts and unbaptised persons, for whom
no religious service was considered necessary. Even this I did not
accept as a solution of my problem. That there was something more than
local feeling underlying this superstition, I was certain, but how to
get to the root of the subject perplexed me.
The Editor of "Notes and Queries" could not satisfy me. His general
suggestions and kind desire to aid me were well-nigh fruitless, so that
there remained for me the course of watching and waiting, as none of my
neighbours could, or would, go beyond the conclusive statement of the
sexton, "It must not be!" or what was even more indefinite, "I have
never heard of such a thing."
The subject was a fruitful source of thought for some months, and in
vain I tried to connect some religious custom of other days, or to find
some Text of Scripture, which might have given rise to the idea, if
mistranslated, or twisted by human ingenuity, to serve such a purpose,
but none occurred to me that in the least would bear of such a
contortion.
In my intercourse with my older parishoners I sought in vain to test the
unbaptized or suicidal burying place theory as suggested above, but this
was entirely foreign to them. At length, the truth of the old saying,
"_All things come to those who wait_" brought its due reward. I was
called in to visit an aged parishoner, who was nearing the end of life's
journey, and among other subjects naturally came the thoughts, and
wishes, of this old saintly man's last hours on earth. He had been a
shepherd for well nigh sixty years, and a widower for the past fifteen
years, and in consequence he had lived and worked much alone. This had
produced a thoughtful spirit, and a certain slowness of speech, so that
he was quite the last man I should have consulted for a solution of my
mystery. Yet, here the secret was unfolded, or to my mind more
satisfactorily explained, than by any previous consultation with either
men or books. The grand old labourer, or faithful shepherd, as he was
laid helpless on his bed, with his life work symbol--the shepherd's
crook, standing idle in the corner, and his trusty dog, restless and
perplexed, roaming from room to room, was a wonderful picture of a
Christian death-bed.
There I learned many a solemn life-lesson never to be forgotten. The
calm voice, the monosyllabic answers given in response to my questions
are still fresh to me; and there I learned the source of my Churchyard
Superstition in the following manner:--
With a strange, weird, unnatural light in the aged man's eyes, which
portrayed much anxiety of mind, he spoke about his burial-place, and
particularly emphasising the words "_On the south side, sir, near by the
wife_." When I ventured to inquire if he knew why such a strong
objection was held to burial on the north side of the church. He started
suddenly, and I shall never forget his reproachful, sad look as he more
readily than usual gave the answer:--"The left side of Christ, sir: we
don't like to be counted among the goats."
As a flash of lightning illuminates the whole darkness of the country
side, and reveals for the moment every object in clear outline, so this
quaint saying of my dying friend dispelled in a moment the mists of the
past which clouded the truth of my strange superstition.
Here was the best answer to the mystery, pointing with no uncertain
words to the glorious Resurrection Day, this aged, earthly shepherd at
the end of his years of toil recognised his Great Master, Jesus, as the
True Shepherd of mankind, meeting His flock as they arose from their
long sleep of death, with their faces turned eastward, awaiting His
appearing.