When the roaming antiquary stops to watch the sexton dig a grave, he observes, not for the first time doubtless, that the graves all lie East and West. To the person whose tastes are not antiquarian, the matter is quite commonplace and he seldom gives it further thought. Yet, so firmly is the custom fixed as a popular institution, and so unconsciously is it obeyed, that it is only when it is perforce disregarded, in crowded cemetery or churchyard, that one’s feelings receive a slight shock by reason of the irregularity. Now these unconscious observances carry with them their certificate of age. For, as John Brand, in the opening words of his famous book, well declares, concerning such “vulgar rites”: “The strongest proof of their remote antiquity is that they have outlived the general knowledge of the very causes that gave rise to them.”

Perhaps there is a little danger of a misunderstanding: it should be made clear that it is only in modern times that folk have become unable to give any reason whatever for the custom. The earlier churchmen had an explanation to tender, though, as we shall see, it was only of secondary and derivative rank. Further, the rule was, and indeed still is, more precise in its operation than above stated, for the head of the corpse is directed towards the West and the feet towards the East. In other words, the normal disposition of the corpse, according to the ancient teaching of the Church, is that it shall face the East.

Durandus, who has already been frequently cited, states the rule, and gives as a reason that the Eastward position is properly assumed in prayer[600]. Bede explains the arrangement on the supposition that the Coming of the Great Day and of the “Sun of Righteousness” will be seen from the East, hence the dead should face the sunrise[601]. The Scriptural allusion in Zechariah, too, has often been quoted in support of the practice; the feet of the Messiah, so the verse runs, shall “stand in that day upon the Mount of Olives, which is before Jerusalem on the East[602].” Larousse, to mention but one more writer, refers to the injunction, but adds that the bodies of priests, martyrs, and bishops are laid in a reverse direction—“caput versus altare,” so that they face the West. A curious reason is assigned: churchmen of high or clerical rank are expected to rise first, and to pass onwards with the head looking West[603], a strange contradiction of Bede’s hypothesis.

Since the effective force of a rule is tested by its exceptions, we shall now glance at some breaches of conformity. With such transgressions of custom one might profitably compare the deliberate refusal to orient churches, discussed in the preceding chapter. Thus, in John Aubrey’s Remaines of Gentilisme and Judaisme, we are assured that most of the ancient graves at Middleton Stoney, Oxfordshire, were made to lie North and South. Whether this were due to ignorance or to the spirit of opposition, the author of the statement, Dr White Kennett, was unable to say. In one of the rare and anonymous “Marprelate” tracts (A.D. 1589), now familiar to most students through Professor Arber’s admirable “English Scholar’s Library,” we read that Martin Month “would not be laid East and West (for hee ever went against the haire) but North and South: I think,” adds the tractarian, “because ‘ab aquilone omne malum,’ and the South wind ever brings corruption with it[604].” Martin Month has not lacked followers. Mr Hissey, in his Over Fen and Wold, has recorded a seventeenth century example from Lincolnshire, a stronghold of Puritanism[605]. William Glanville, who died at Wotton, near Dorking, in the year 1750, left documentary injunctions requiring, among other curious details, that he should be buried facing the North. In a case of infringement of the rule, as related by Brand, the motive, strangely enough, was not contumacy, but the desire to exhibit a visible mark of penitence and humiliation[606]. In support of this view, attention may be called to a stone coffin which is built into an exterior angle of two walls at Lindisfarne Priory church. The coffin lies South-East and North-West, and is believed to have held the body of a monk who had broken his vows.

Thomas Hearne, the antiquary, as befitted a philosopher, ordered that his executors should determine the true orientation of his grave by means of a compass (A.D. 1735). This was done, with the result that the monument appeared to be awry, though the actual error, it is affirmed, lay in the incorrect orientation of the surrounding graves[607]. One is inclined to modify this explanation; the divergence was probably caused by the different modes of orientation, the earlier graves having been most probably alined by the sun or the church fabric, while that of the antiquary was set out by the needle, and, it may be, without making allowance for the declination. In a parenthesis, an analogous case, which came under the notice of the present writer, may be given. An oblong kerbing of marble was to be placed around a grave in the churchyard of Chipstead, Surrey, and the mason was told to take his alinement from the wall of the chancel. When the task was finished the kerbing was seen to be out of line with the surrounding graves. Dispute was followed by a careful test. The kerb was true to the chancel wall, but, as was then discovered, the chancel itself was askew, when compared with the nave. Was the twist, then, of a date posterior to that of the earliest grave-mounds, and were these made parallel with the nave? I think the answer to the latter question is probably affirmative, but the puzzle of dates cannot be so readily solved. It is almost certain that none of the existing mounds is co-eval with the rebuilding or partial rebuilding of the chancel[608], but again, the present mounds may have been alined from a succession of earlier ones.

As already suggested, direct infraction of the general rule arrests the attention; were it not for this, familiarity might make us blind. So again, one may easily pass by at least two Shakespearean allusions. “Make her grave straight,” says one sexton to the other, when about to dig Ophelia’s grave[609], and, though certain commentators have considered the words to imply “Make it immediately,” there is good authority against this interpretation. The alternative reading supposes that the command is to dig the grave East and West. This rendering of the words seems very reasonable, seeing that they form part of an answer to the question whether Ophelia shall have Christian burial. “I tell thee she is: and therefore make her grave straight.” The explanation is in full accord with the tradition, held in the South-East of England, that the bodies of suicides were buried in a North and South direction. The instruction given by Guiderius to Cadwal concerning the apparently dead body of Imogen is more specific:

The meaning probably is, “Lay his head to face the East”; although the other interpretation, “Head directed to East, feet to West,” is possible. At any rate the passage clearly shows that the orientation of graves was assumed by the poet to have been observed, even in the solitudes.

A scrap of quaint, but illuminating, evidence comes from the folk-lore of Wales, where the East wind is called “the wind of the dead men’s feet[611].” Nor is the practice of orienting graves confined to Britain. A Scandinavian folk-story makes the grave-diggers, either through stress of bad weather, or “out of mischief,” bury an unpopular person, one JÓn Flak, in a grave dug North and South. Every night the dead man haunted the grave-diggers and repeated this verse:

And no rest was obtained until the body was taken up and buried in the proper position[612]. A study of comparative customs will, however, furnish us with departures from the British plan, although haphazard alinements seem to be exceptional. Thus, some Australian tribes allow the head to front the West, others the East. The Samoans, the Fijians, and the North American Indians place the head to the East; this was also the practice of the Peruvians. Some South American tribes and the old Ainus of Yesso made their dead face the sunrise[613]. Plainly, while all these instances involve alinement of the corpse, they illustrate the two opposing ideas mentioned in the last chapter,—that of darkness and death, connected with sunset, and that of resurrection and new life, typified by sunrise. Sir Thomas Browne, in his Hydriotaphia, remarks: “The Persians lay North and South: the Megarians and Phoenicians placed their heads to the East; the Athenians, some think, towards the West, which Christians still retain. And Beda will have it to be the posture of our Saviour[614].”

Various Greek authors attest the practice of orienting graves before the time of Solon (died c. B.C. 558)[615]. Setting this evidence aside, and restricting the inquiry chiefly to our own country, we have good reason to believe that there has been continuity of custom from the Saxon period at least. Mr Romilly Allen asserts that the East-to-West position was usual in the early days of Christianity. Further it was formerly suggested by Mr Reginald A. Smith that, wherever East-to-West graves are met with in Saxon cemeteries, they indicate the burial-places of Christians, in contrast to the tombs of the heathen. But the discoveries at Mitcham, in Surrey, of a large number of skeletons carefully orientated, break the rule, since Mr Smith himself shows that the burials were of pre-Saxon date, while the associated relics point to pagan interment. Again, a cemetery which was discovered at the Roman “level” in Bishopsgate Street, London, contained bodies laid East and West. Since no pagan objects were associated with the skeletons, we may perhaps conjecture that the burials were those of Christians[616]. But the most common position of skeletons in Roman cemeteries, according to Wright, is found to be East and West; usually, though by no means always, the feet are towards the East[617]. This generalization must now be considered too confident. There is the further complication that some of the cemeteries contain burnt, as well as unburnt bodies, suggesting a mingling of pagan and Christian burials.

We next take the pre-Roman period. Two examples from France will serve to illustrate one stage. A cemetery at Charvais, belonging to the earliest Iron Age, contained more than seventy graves, all but two or three of which were so oriented that the head lay at the West end[618]. Out of five graves excavated at Pleurs, in the department of Marne, three exhibited a like arrangement[619]. Examples might be multiplied, so far as the Continent is concerned; the position of the skeleton in English interments of the Iron Age unfortunately seems not to have been much noted by investigators. Even the excellent Guide to the Antiquities of the Early Iron Age does not furnish much information about British orientation, the main cause, doubtless, being the neglect of the excavators to record such details. One remarkable interment, at Kilham, near Driffield, in the East Riding, is worthy of notice. The grave contained the remains of a man, with the head placed at the West end; on each side of the body a goat had been laid, with a similar orientation[620]. Mr J. R. Mortimer, who, in 1897, conducted a series of excavations at Kilham, gave this summary respecting the disposition of the skeletons. Of twenty burials, eleven bodies had the head towards the North, five towards the South, and only four West[621]. At the Late-Celtic cemetery at Harlyn Bay, Cornwall, the majority of the skeletons, which were contracted, lay on their left sides, and faced the East. This evidence, which might be supplemented, plainly shows that the placing of corpses East and West was not uniformly observed during the Early Iron Age.

But we must widen the scope of the inquiry, for it is necessary to remember that the round barrows of the Bronze and Aeneolithic periods, and the long barrows of the Neolithic Age, were nothing but huge graves. Mr Mortimer’s excavations in the round barrows of Yorkshire led him to the conclusion, that, while no rule could be formulated concerning the alinement of the body, “the most prevalent position of the head [was] to the West and the East[622].” Canon Greenwell’s explorations revealed a like absence of regularity in the position of round-barrow skeletons, though the tables which he furnishes indicate a tendency to an East-and-West approximation. One of his results is of great interest. He found that, wherever the head of the skeleton pointed, roughly speaking, towards the West, the body had generally been laid on its right side; where the head was towards the East, the body was usually resting on its left side[623]. The inference has therefore been drawn that the corpse was made to face, not merely the sun, but the position of the sun in the sky at the time of burial. This opinion has been widely held until recent years, but it is now becoming customary to heap ridicule upon it[624]. The scoffers should, however, in fairness, consider collateral testimony.

First, it is well to note an actual record of careful orientations. For example, it is not contested that, in the round barrows of Wiltshire there is a strong tendency for the body to face the South[625]. If the theory just mentioned be correct, the corpse had, in the Wiltshire graves, been placed with the face towards the midday sun, implying a possible, but not demonstrable intention, with some fixity of custom. General Pitt-Rivers, who believed that the Saxons arranged the body with the head towards the rising sun, examined 31 Saxon graves at Winkelbury. He discovered that, while the skeleton was always alined towards an Eastern point, the exact axis varied from E. 19° S. to E. 28° N., but was usually towards the North. Supposing that his theory were valid, he admitted, with great candour, that all but two of the bodies must, from their positions, have been buried in summer. Here, again, we meet a possible, but certainly not provable, adherence to a custom.

Let us now look at Mr Mortimer’s valuable tables, which are found on the page of his book to which reference has just been made. From an examination of 383 interments, Mr Mortimer obtained these results:

The 31 unascertained positions must be ignored. The 71 instances in which the body lay on its back or chest are obviously testimony against the “face-to-sun” hypothesis. Moreover, of the 281 remaining cases, only 61 will be found to have the head pointing North-East, South-East, or in intermediate directions. At first sight, this summary is fatal to the theory. But the question is not easily settled. Other details must be known concerning each individual interment, and these are, to some extent, lacking. It is evident that a corpse may occupy any one of numerous linear positions, and may lie on either its right or left side, and yet face the sun at some time of the day. For the sun constantly changes its position in the course of its daily journey, and also alters its points of rising and setting. The consequence is, that a body lying on its left side might have its head directed to any point from North-East round to North-West approximately, and nevertheless face the sun. If we do not know the season, or the hour, of the interment, we cannot assert that the corpse did not so face the sun. Similarly, if the deceased tribesman were placed on his right side, he might, broadly speaking, occupy any position from East round to West, and yet fulfil the condition. Now the tables show that 245 out of the 281 bodies might conceivably have been laid as the theory supposes. Mr Mortimer gives Greenwell’s list for comparison: it supplies details of 234 bodies. Of these bodies, 112 lay on the right side, and 122 on the left—there is no reference to other positions. An inspection of the columns reveals that about 200 cases might support the “face-to-sun” theory.

It would be highly undesirable to press the facts further than is necessary to appeal for a suspended verdict. The “face-to-sun” hypothesis was never meant to be more than a possible explanation, but it has the virtue of accounting for many instances in which the skeleton lies, not due East and West, or North and South, but obliquely, at some intermediate horizon. And, at least, the alinement of the head, if not the face, towards the sun, is not peculiarly a British feature of prehistoric burials. Among the Tlingits, or Tlinkits, of South Alaska, the corpse was buried with the head towards the sun, so as to allow the soul of the deceased person to return; if the body were laid in the contrary direction, the spirit could never come back. Professor Frazer, who records this custom, asserts that other totemistic peoples inter their dead, according to fixed rules, with the head towards particular points of the compass. Professor E. B. Tylor has also collected abundant testimony corroborative of such customs. In places widely sundered geographically there has existed a strong desire to bury the dead “in the path of the sun[626].” Recently, too, Dr A. W. Howitt has discovered, just in time, at the Australian station of Wotjo, an isolated tribe which still preserves the custom. The arrangement of the head of the corpse is determined by the class and totem of the deceased person, and the direction is fixed by reference to the rising sun. The practice is nearing extinction, for, although Dr Howitt was able to secure sufficient information from the natives to construct a kind of burial compass, they could give him no reason for the varying dispositions. The only explanation proffered was: “Oh, that is what our fathers told us.” Such a man was buried in such a way because he was “nearer to us” than the others[627]. The folk-memory of this tribe will soon become a mere echo of tradition, and the task of reconstructing these primitive burial customs will grow increasingly difficult as each aboriginal patch of the earth’s surface becomes influenced by civilization.

Respecting graves themselves, we readily perceive that a round barrow, from its very nature, cannot be normally oriented. But in the British long barrows, usually accepted as the earlier kind, the long axis generally runs East and West. The broader end of the mound, where the sepulchral deposit is, as a rule, discovered, is directed towards the East[628]. So that, during the Neolithic period, some broad principle of orientation was observed, the constraining motive being probably connected with sun-worship.

Orientation in barrow burials having been considered, one is easily led to discuss an allied subject, in part connected with interments, in part not so strictly related, yet tinged with like primitive ideas. This topic is the orientation of megaliths and ancient earthworks, and it has been so prominently put forward by Sir Norman Lockyer that no archaeologist can pretend to be alert and watchful who has not, to some extent, followed the discussion. Hence a notice, however slight and imperfect, is demanded. Sir Norman Lockyer has made careful triangulations and measurements in connection with the prehistoric monuments of Cornwall, Wiltshire, and other counties, and his general conclusion is, that the axes of these monuments, and their mutual geographical relations, were carefully determined by their constructors. The assumption having been made that the monuments were originally alined to sunrise, the problem has been to calculate when that arrangement could have existed, because now, owing to the alteration of the inclination of the earth’s equator with regard to the ecliptic, the solstitial points have considerably shifted their positions. Stonehenge, which Sir Norman Lockyer considers to have been a solstitial temple, was accurately alined by astronomical means when erected. He believes that the original alinement of the circles was adapted (c. B.C. 2200) to a “farmer’s year,” May to November; but that, about B.C. 1600, a new cult was introduced, probably from Egypt, and the lines of orientation were changed to harmonize with a June-to-December year[629]. The investigation has also been applied to other monuments, and it is claimed that not only can we determine to what star a particular megalith was originally oriented, but, as a consequence of this determination, we can discover the approximate date also of the erection of the stones[630]. To any one who, like the present writer, is not a skilled practical astronomer, the evidence is difficult to handle, for the actual observations and measurements must, of necessity, be implicitly accepted. Yet, on general grounds, one cannot avoid the thought that the assumptions are not self-evidently true, and that even if this were the case, the theory is pushed much further than seems reasonable. These objections have been raised by several writers, and the views of Sir Norman Lockyer have been exposed to severe, and, apparently, disintegrating criticism[631]. It is but fair to add that these rebutting arguments have been met by rejoinders, though of varying value. Do we urge that the theory, with the minute measurements which it involves, presupposes too high a state of culture for those early times, too deep a knowledge of astronomy, too complicated a system of religion or worship? We are met by the enunciation of another hypothesis, that the Druids of Caesar’s time, admittedly men of some learning, were the descendants of astronomer-priests of a more ancient British civilization[632]. Do we ask for proof of re-orientation, as a result of the immigration of a new race of men? We are thrown back on a further series of intricate astronomical data, reinforced by similar details relating to Egyptian temples. It may be that the objector has some misgivings as to the exactitude of the orientation of these very temples—that is a small matter—but he would like to know the reason for placing our rough, unhewn cromlechs and menhirs in the same category. To the general archaeologist, the comparison between our rude “amorpholiths” and an elaborate Eastern temple is not just. Such a person asks questions about the instruments which the builders of the megaliths may have used in their observations, about the possible obstacles which may have blocked out of view portions of the horizon, about the difficulty in ascertaining which standard line was used, where all the monoliths are so crude and irregular. Again, which was considered the time of sunrise—the moment when the sun’s rim peeped above the horizon, or when his centre was clearly visible? Each position has been assumed, the one in England, the other in Egypt. In the ages when not even the Julian calendar had been invented, could primitive folk know, for certain, the exact date of the solstice? In England, the sun rises on the slant: where was the observer’s eye placed in relation to that oblique line? In one Cornish instance, at least, it has been asserted that the stones from which the alinement had been taken cannot be seen from the central group of stones[633]. And of Sidbury Hill, which was deemed so important in the Stonehenge measurements, Dr T. Rice Holmes declares that it cannot be seen from that monument, only the trees on its summit being visible[634].

Somewhat in accord with the conclusions of Sir Norman Lockyer, but by no means in total agreement, are the theories propounded by the Rev. J. W. Hayes, of West Thurrock. Mr Hayes, who has made a close study of stone-circles, especially with regard to their use in Gorseddau and other assemblies, has kindly permitted me to read his unpublished papers, and to glean therefrom such information as is germane to the present question. It is manifestly impossible to give more than the briefest summary of the evidence, or to enumerate the miscellaneous documents, written and printed, which Mr Hayes has consulted. The leading idea is, that the stone-circles were first erected to serve as indicators of seasons. By means of these “dials,” the priestly caste determined the times of fasts and feasts. In spring, there were sacrifices to ensure bountiful crops. Before entering upon a war, there were offerings to propitiate the gods and thus to win success. A comparison is made between the old festivals and our own Easter—itself a pagan feast originally, and still depending on the moon for the exact date of its observance. Analogies are also drawn from the customs of the Jews, the Romans, and the Egyptians. The outstanding menhirs connected with stone-circles are considered to have been intended to provide sight-lines, while the trilithons of Stonehenge, it is suggested, marked out sky-spaces. It is interesting to note, in passing, that Professor W. Gowland has recorded the use of wooden trilithons by modern Japanese sun-worshippers, for determining the position of the sun and of sacred objects.

It will be inferred that Mr Hayes’s theory makes the sacrificial use of the circles subsidiary to a primary astronomical and judicial purpose. Yet he takes note that the old Irish name for a cromlech—the accepted term among modern writers for a “stone-ring”—was siorcal leacht, or “circle-stone-of-death.” In old Irish manuscripts such circles are always associated with pagan priests or druids. The sepulchral aspect of stone-circles, however, seems to be largely ignored by the modern school of investigators.

Mr Hayes lays stress upon a singular fact, the true explanation of which has long been an enigma—the frequent occurrence of a definite number of pillars in the stone-ring. Nine is not an uncommon number in England, though it is recorded from Ireland and Germany. (The stones of the Nine Maidens, near St Columb Major, in Cornwall, form a row, not a circle.) The cromlechs of Boscawen-Ûn and the Dawns MÊn, in Cornwall, of Whitemoorstone Down, Dartmoor, as well as the inner “horseshoe” at Stonehenge, have nineteen uprights. Thirty, again, is the tale of some circles, as in the outer ring of sarsens at Stonehenge. The group of nine is puzzling, but the arrangement of nineteen is held to represent the metonic, Indian, or lunar cycle of the astronomers. After the lapse of nineteen years, the sun and moon occupy relatively the same positions as at the commencement of the cycle, so that full moon and new moon recur on the same days of the months as before. Whether this astronomical explanation of the number nineteen can be proved or not, one curious feature deserves notice. The circles which show nineteen stones have a gap towards the East, and no explorations have hitherto brought a twentieth stone to light.

It further appears that the old Gorsedd circles (p. 98 supra) consisted of twelve stones, set 30° apart, and said to represent the twelve signs of the Zodiac. The circles reared at the annual Eisteddfod by the neo-Druidic cult are arranged similarly. Besides the twelve pillars, three outstanding menhirs were fixed at the North-East, East, and South-East respectively so that the sun’s rays at the solstices, or the equinoxes, as might be, fell on the central stone, or “chair” within the circle. And, by a strange coincidence—or is it due to imitation?—another plan of the Gorsedd circle, as preserved in ancient manuscripts, gives nineteen stones, with a gap towards the East. In this case, eight outstanding pillars were erected, so as to indicate, by shadows or rays, (1) the summer and winter solstices, (2) the old May-December agricultural year, (3) the equinoxes, and, possibly, (4) other solar and lunar periods.

The weakness in the foregoing theories seems to lie in the assumption, up to the present unproved, that the primary purpose of the cromlechs was to serve as places of assembly. True, the convocations are supposed to have been hedged with much ceremony, to which the stones were accessory. But, dealing with circles, are we not liable to argue in a circle? Until the prime purpose of the cromlechs is ascertained, the student is forced back like the turnspit in Hudibras:

Were the stone-rings first erected for worship, and did the later conveners of Gorseddau, retaining faint memories of ancient usages, cling to the traditional system of orientation and astronomical measurement? Or were the cromlechs primarily intended for open-air meetings, which were afterwards invested by the priests with a religious character? Or, again, were the circles first of all astronomical, and the assemblies, features of later times? Minor theories may be neglected, although, in the present condition of the evidence, even these might claim recognition.

Setting aside the modern Druidical ceremonies, as having a parentage no older than the sixteenth or seventeenth century, there remain the more ancient Gorseddau. The evidence regarding these, for the past 1500 years, notably with respect to the practice of orientation and the use of “pointers” to indicate the seasons, is weighty, and cannot be ignored by the impartial student. But the grand difficulty remains. We cannot yet bridge over the interval between oral tradition and written history, between the builders of the Bronze and Early Iron Ages and the bards of the Arthurian period. It is quite possible that folk-memory was effective during that dim period, but it is equally possible that the cromlechs became gradually diverted from their original purpose, whether sepulchral, astronomical, or other. This diversion would be a natural process when the functions of priest and lawgiver became more differentiated. The religious ceremonies which accompanied legislative and judicial meetings would tend to conceal the change which had occurred.

Sir Norman Lockyer considers the whole question of Gorsedd circles so important, that, in the second edition of his work (1909), he has devoted a special chapter to the subject. Should it be finally established, beyond cavil, that Gorsedd circles have been frequently erected throughout the period which extends from the fifth century of our era until the present day, there will be a fair claim for continuity, if not of function, yet of habit, from prehistoric times. But there will also arise a grave suspicion whether some of the cromlechs, hitherto ascribed to prehistoric peoples, may not, after all, be the more permanent Gorsedd circles of a later date. We cannot forget the misleading stone-circle set up at Pontypridd no farther back than fifty years ago, by the “Arch-Druid” of that time, Myfyr Morganwg (or Myvyr Morgannwg); nor the sham “Druidic structure,” raised in the neighbourhood of Pateley Bridge, in Yorkshire, about thirty years previously.

Having uttered these objections, and having implied the necessity of slow-moving circumspection, one cannot think that the boundary of knowledge has yet been reached. Frequently, excavations reveal little more evidence than was already suspected after critical external examination. If then the archaeologist and the astronomer can find agreement in common premisses, the theodolite may indeed help the spade and atone for its limitations. While feeling persuaded that our megalithic monuments were never alined with such nicety that the orientation can be expressed in seconds, one can still understand that they may have been set out with greater accuracy than is commonly supposed. When we recollect, too, that many of our megaliths had at first probably a sepulchral purpose, we shall see no sufficient reason why they should not have been planned, at any rate, as skilfully as funeral earthworks.

The Rev. J. Griffith, indeed, carries the orientation theory further, and applies it to primitive earthworks of a general character—those which are popularly known as camps and forts. Speaking of Burrington Camp, Somerset, he claims that its Southern bank is oriented to the equinox, and that another bank corresponds both to the sunset line at the summer solstice, and to sunrise at the winter solstice. He adds that the star alinement of this earthwork has been “worked out” by Sir Norman Lockyer to Arcturus. Castle Dyke, near Aysgarth, Yorkshire, gives indications of an alinement either to Alpha Centauri or to Capella[635].

These much-canvassed theories have led us away from our highroad, yet the digression was really slight, seeing that many of our megaliths mark the position of early burial-places. It is not asserted that all our ancient stone monuments are of this character, but some, at least, of those which are claimed as “temples,” were primarily graves; hence they come under our survey. Here, too, it seems fitting to notice another matter, dependent to some extent on the orientation of graves, and illustrative of the persistency of unconscious folk-memory.

The modern sexton, having filled up the grave, banks up the surplus soil in the form of a long, neatly-finished mound. Is there any obvious reason why he should do this, instead of spreading out the remaining earth until all is level? The explanation of positive necessity is not admissible: I have noticed one churchyard in which mounds are not raised, just as, in two or three other instances, all the tombstones are laid in a horizontal position. The popular belief, if it is found to exist, ascribes the mound to an economical cause—the advantage of banking up some soil to prevent the shallow depression which is the after result of subsidence. But this does not account for the oblong mound with curved ends—a shape which does not altogether correspond with that of the pit which is being closed. Nor does it explain the careful turfing-over which sometimes follows, nor the masonry or coped tombstone which is frequently designed to preserve the accepted form of the mound.

The only satisfactory answer to the question, so far as competent authorities have yet discovered, is that the modern grave-mound is the shrunken representative of the long barrow, the features having been retained because of the inertia of social custom, and because inveterate imitation is easier than new experiment. It is noteworthy that the modern mound is often so large as to be unsightly. The size is especially increased in places where, as in the little Huguenot burying ground at Wandsworth, the pile is surmounted by a “box” tomb of brick or stone. (These mounds are not, however, comparable in size to that of Chislehurst, p. 76 supra.) To the late Mr Grant Allen belongs, I believe, the chief credit for the barrow theory, the conclusion having been forced upon him by long study of the comparative burial customs of primitive folk[636]. Thomas Wright had earlier classed the Saxon barrow as the prototype of the modern grave-mound; and, in the eighteenth century, Hearne had remarked, concerning tumuli and churchyards: “But now the straitness of [churchyards] will not permit such aggeres consecratos, as some terme them, to be made there.”

The proposed interpretation involves the assumption that the practice of barrow-burial, in the sense of raising a tumulus of some kind over the dead, has never completely died out in our country. Link by link, as we pass onwards from the Neolithic period, through the Bronze and Iron Ages, and include the Romans, Saxons, and Danes in our survey, we discover that this claim can be made good. The chief difference between the ancient practice and that of our own day lies in the fact that mound-burial is now almost universal, at least throughout our country, while in former ages it was not quite so general. One may hazard the opinion that mound-burial may have been markedly the exception in prehistoric times. The great ones of the land were truly laid under these earthen monuments, but in what manner the great masses of the poorer folk were buried we may never know. Perhaps these humbler members of the community were interred in much the same way as nearly the whole of the present population may expect to be interred; that is, a hole was dug in the ground, and perhaps a tiny tumulus was heaped above the buried corpse. But the mound was not always raised, especially when cremation came into fashion. The question need not be here complicated by a consideration of the evolution of the coffin, since some remarks will be made on this subject later. An instance or two will tend to confirm the opinion just expressed. Dr T. Rice Holmes has collected numerous records to show that there were moundless graves during the Bronze Age[637]. Such graves were dug in caverns, or sunk on the chalk downs, or in other soils near a settlement. Doubtless, other examples remain yet to be discovered. The reader will, however, note that, except in the case of caves, the original absence of a mound cannot always be absolutely proven; the forces of Nature, aided by the plough, may have obliterated the external signs of burial. During the Early Iron Age, mounds appear to have been even less general than in the preceding period. Thus, several pit-burials have been recorded from Hagbourne Hill, near Didcot, Berkshire[638], and from the celebrated “urn-field” at Aylesford, Kent, which dates from c. B.C. 50[639]. For the intervening Roman period, there is no need to cite examples, since they abound, and of the Anglo-Saxon burials, it may be sufficient to state that in various localities (Cambridge, Northampton, Gloucester, Wiltshire), groups of graves have been found in such close proximity that the tumuli, if they ever existed, must have been of small dimensions[640].

All through these centuries, nevertheless, barrow-burial had persisted. Nay, more, the barrows were often collected in groups, representing the prototypes of our modern cemeteries. The classic example of such clusters is seen in the barrows around Stonehenge; within a circuit of three miles it is said that there are about three hundred barrows[641]. Another illuminating record is that of the collection of barrows known as the Danes’ Graves, near Kilham, on the Wolds of Yorkshire. Not fewer than 500 graves once existed here, “massed together as in a modern churchyard, not isolated as in the Bronze period[642].” Mr J. R. Mortimer found that the burial-mounds of East Yorkshire fell readily into clusters, some of which contained so many as thirty or more individual barrows. From Mr Mortimer’s conclusion that the ground-plans of these groups agree with the outlines of certain of the heavenly constellations, notably with that of Charles’s Wain, we must, however, withhold assent. The Stonehenge barrows are grouped, not actually “massed.” Other groups of tumuli might be given; we will merely mention those interesting cases where one or two large barrows are connected with collections of tiny mounds; the smaller ones, perhaps, representing the resting-place of the poorer tribesmen[643]. It would be safe to assert that most of the small barrows have ere now been long levelled down. Of the larger mounds not a tithe of the original number remains.

The clusters of barrows, one may consider, led indirectly to the Christian cemeteries. At first, as stated in a sermon by St Chrysostom (A.D. 403), the Christian communities had their cemeteries outside the walls of cities[644]. Interment in churchyards was not a primitive practice, and was prohibited by the decrees of early church councils. The custom gradually crept into use about the sixth century[645], the innovation appearing first in connection with monastic settlements. By the time of St Cuthbert (c. A.D. 742) the practice was becoming well known, the bones of pious men and martyrs being actually admitted within the building itself[646]. To such an extent did the practice grow, that the floors of churches often became too uneven for walking over. As a parenthesis, we note that the early ban against churchyard burial must not be interpreted as contradicting the probability of the building of churches near older Christian cemeteries.

Scandinavia was apparently in a state of transition from barrow burial to small-mound burial at a later date, namely, during the Viking Age (A.D. 700-1000). At that period it became the habit to make low barrows for the poorer folk, the “warrior houes” being reserved for the families of powerful chieftains[647]. And one cannot doubt that the collaterals of the Scandinavians—the Anglo-Saxons—developed their burial customs along similar lines. In addition, it must be remembered that these latter peoples, when settled in England, had a marked predilection for burial in the older and larger barrows which they found already in existence. Such “secondary burials” are familiar to the archaeologist, and are discriminated by the level and posture of the skeletons, as well as by the associated objects. When the conversion of the people to Christianity became more general, such practices were discountenanced. Down to the eighth century, however, it was usual to bury the illegitimate offspring of nuns and others in these older mounds.

The Capitularies of Charlemagne (A.D. 789) order the burial of Christians in cemeteries, and expressly forbid the pagan practice of barrow-burial: “Jubemus, ut corpora Christianorum Saxonum ad coemiteria [al. coemeteria] Ecclesiae deferantur, et non ad tumulos paganorum[648].” The burial-ground soon became known in Germany as “Gottes-acker” (God’s Acre). This change, too, completed the break between cremation and simple burial of the corpse. Orientation of graves now became a fixed rule. Keysler suggests, and his view has since been largely upheld, that the transfer of custom was due to the doctrine of the Resurrection, as epitomized in I Cor. xv. 5 et seqq. and St John xii. 24[649]. In other words, the new religion discouraged cremation, and enjoined simple earth burial, thus curiously reviving the primitive habit (cf. p. 264 infra).

If we desire, to-day, to see folk who represent the transitional stage of culture which connects the large tumulus with the smaller and more insignificant mound, we may visit the natives of the Pandsh valley, in the district of the Pamirs. Recently it has been discovered by Olufsen that these “equine-faced” folk raise a burial-mound over the dead, and surround it by high stones or a clay wall, according to the social standing, riches, or holiness of the deceased man[650]. The distinctions of rank have ever been preserved by the tomb, in spite of proverbial wisdom.

Reverting to the “mould’ring heap” of which Gray sings in his Elegy, it may fairly be asked why the mound should be long and not round. A decisive answer cannot be tendered. It is worth considering, nevertheless, whether this shape does not represent a “throw-back” to Neolithic custom. The round barrows which fell under the Christian ban enclosed the relics of burnt or partially burnt bodies. The long barrows, which, with some possible exceptions[651], are believed to be of earlier date, were raised over corpses which had not been cremated. Now, if it be true, as Mr Grant Allen supposed, that the shape of the circular tumulus was determined by the cinerary urn around which it was piled, while the form of the long barrow depended on the subjacent chambered tomb—the underground home or palace of the dead person[652]—we begin to see a glimmer of light. For the subterranean chamber, being intended to hold an uncremated corpse, would be roughly adapted to the form of the human body. In like manner, when inhumation was again enforced, there would be an unconscious return to the use of the long mound. As if to show once more that no rule is of universal application, certain exceptions must be recorded. In some village churchyards, a few round mounds are interspersed with the long ones. Occasionally, the round mounds may be explained by the division of a long mound caused by the tread of careless feet, repeated throughout several generations. That this is not always the reason, is plain to the observant eye. Do these mounds represent the graves of children, or of unbaptized infants? On the Sussex coast, the graves of drowned sailors are said to be thus distinguished. Once again, why should it be customary, as in some churchyards of Dorsetshire and the Isle of Wight, to make the long mounds of unusual size?

A fact of some little interest, though it has no scientific bearing on our theme, is that the late Professor Tyndall’s grave, in Haslemere churchyard, Surrey, is a round tumulus, clad with bracken and heather. The memorial took this unpretentious form in accordance with the expressed wish of the philosopher himself. Through the kindness of Miss Truda Hutchinson, I am enabled to give an illustration (Fig. 51) of the mound. For the purpose of comparison, a round barrow situated at Henley-on-Thames is shown (Fig. 52).

We have seen that orientation, as we know it, was not strictly observed in the burials of prehistoric folk, while, in our day, it is all but universal. Contrariwise, what was originally a common feature—the placing of the corpse in a crouched or sitting posture—is now decidedly exceptional, being restricted to the

burials of very eccentric or very pious persons[653]. Interment in an upright position has not, however, been of infrequent occurrence. Ben Jonson was so buried at Westminster. The case of the Hobarts, who are buried in a brickwork vault at Blickling, Norfolk, is also often cited. The vertical position was formerly adopted for the interment of captains in the army[654]. The body of Clement Spelman, Recorder of Nottingham, was immured (A.D. 1679) in a pillar in Narburgh church[655]. Many other curious vagaries of custom might be given; one or two instances must suffice. Surrey folk are familiar with Leith Hill Tower, under which lie the remains of Mr Richard Hull, who died in 1772, and whose peculiar opinions led him to stipulate burial in this elevated region[656]. In another instance, a corpse was buried within a flint pyramid at the top of a fir-clad hill near Great Missenden, in Buckinghamshire. A chapter might easily be filled with such particulars, but enough has been said to show that, amid all these eccentricities of habit, there is often an unwitting reversion to primitive methods. The similarities have been revealed only by the labours of the barrow-digger and the antiquary. Not only has the practice of orientation been found to have a very ancient descent, but many quaint usages, ofttimes deemed abnormal, have proved to be genuine survivals. In the next chapter some of these survivals will be considered. Not a little pathos is associated with our knowledge of these details. Bones which had “quietly rested under the drums and tramplings of three conquests,” have been unromantically disturbed by the busy archaeologist, and compelled to yield their secret. One cannot withhold sympathy from the investigator who had obtained permission to open a certain barrow, but who pondered and procrastinated, viewing, with indulgent eye, the even outline of the grassy mound. Day by day his pity for the sleeping warrior increased, and he hesitated to thrust his spade into the wind-swept turf, until the opportunity for work had slipped away. One admires the spirit, yet to widen the limits of knowledge that spirit has to be sadly, though judiciously, corrected.