Chapter VII: Survivals in Burial Customs (2)

An illustration drawn from the writings of Mr Thomas Hardy will doubtless be pardoned, since much genuine Wessex folklore has been presented to us in the garb of fiction by that shrewd observer and archaeologist. In _The Mayor of Casterbridge_ [i.e. Dorchester], after having been told of the death of Mrs Henchard, the reader is treated to a rustic gossip on death in general. Mrs Cuxsom gives her own little commentary, and then proceeds to quote the words of her dead neighbour: “And there’s four ounce pennies, the heaviest I could find, a-tied up in bits of linen, for weights--two for my right eye, and two for my left. And when you’ve used ’em, and my eyes don’t open no more, bury the pennies, good souls, and don’t ye go spending ’em, for I shouldn’t like it.” In the sequel, a servant buries the coins in the garden, but Christopher Coney digs them up and spends them. One of the listeners, Solomon Longways, excuses this action, and can see “no treason in it,” but the general verdict ran: “’Twas a cannibal deed[743].”

Now we may be certain that this conversation describes, in all essential details, the Wessex superstition. Within our own times, Northumbrian folk were wont to bury a penny piece just under the soil of a newly-made grave. And it is a very common belief that misfortune will follow him who desecrates the coin--the ferryman’s penny--by ignoble use. If, as is probable, the “eye-coin” be the genuine representative of this penny, it has degenerated into a humble accessory of the death-chamber; it is not now even deposited in the grave. Nevertheless, the segregated coin must not be put again to everyday uses. Well did Jowett of Balliol in luminous phrase speak of “underground religion,” that strain of superstition which cannot be banished from the peasant mind. Nor, indeed, does orthodoxy, at least as understood by provincial or unthinking folk, raise any serious demur to the observance.

We cannot accept as adequate the superficial explanation that the penny is simply used to close the eyes. This is the immediate purpose, of course, but it does not explain why a penny, though certainly an object of convenient size and shape, should alone be used. Least of all does it account for the placing of coins in the mouth, or of burying money in the grave. Norwegian folk-lore supplies us with a curious correlative. When the Norwegian peasant takes earth from the churchyard to succour ailing children, he must bury silver coins in place of the stolen specific. Customs like these carry us back, by almost imperceptible transitions, to the building of the British barrow, and to the interment therein of flawless arrow-head or fractured celt. Following the centuries forward, we may dimly surmise why the various changes took place; glancing back, we marvel that the beliefs have been clung to so tenaciously.

We must now leave our first group of objects--the axes, the knives, the arrow-tips, with fire-kindlers, pottery, querns, spindle-whorls, and all similar appliances, in order to give some attention to the next division of the relics. This class, it will be remembered, comprises amulets, talismans, and symbolical objects. Some difficulty arises when we try to separate these from the purely decorative articles, but there are certain relics whose purpose does not seem to admit of doubt. The tiny polished celts, of which an example from Puy de Dôme is shown in Fig. 57, must have been charms. Specimens much smaller than the one illustrated are often met with. Still more convincing are the small amber axes which Professor Montelius has described as occurring in Scandinavia: these cannot have had any economical use.

Examples of objects wholly symbolical or protective are furnished by the white or transparent pebbles frequently found in ancient graves. In the innermost chamber of a Scottish cairn opened by Dr Angus Smith, at Achnacree, near Loch Etive, a row of quartz pebbles, each larger than a walnut, was seen displayed on a granite ledge. Canon Greenwell, who examined cairns containing similar objects near Crinan, thought that the stones had a symbolical meaning[744]. Similarly, Mr Reddie Mallett discovered shield-shaped masses of quartz deposited in the Celtic Cemetery at Harlyn Bay, Cornwall[745]. Smooth white pebbles, sometimes five or seven in number, but never more, and usually arranged in crosses, were found in graves under the fallen ramparts of Burghead, in Elginshire[746]. The belief in the virtues of selected pebbles was of an enduring kind, for crystals of quartz and white stones (“Godstones”) were commonly placed in Irish graves within recent times. In ancient Irish graves the finding of such objects is of common occurrence. Pebbles of other hues have also been discovered, representing a small colour-series[747]. The fisher-folk of Inverary have a practice, which outruns all memory, and which is independent of everything save tradition, of placing little white pebbles on the graves of their friends[748]. More might be said concerning these white stones--the symbols of justification in the Apocalypse[749], the sacred comforters of the dying Hindoo, the counters by means of which the ancient Thracians recorded their happy days[750]. We will, however, pass to a more elaborate kind of amulet, the crystal ball which is often found in Saxon graves. Sometimes the crystal is mounted with a silver band or ring, as if its owner had carried it in suspension. From a consideration of the passage in _Beowulf_ respecting the value of such amulets in protecting the head from the blows of the enemy, from a knowledge that crystal pendants have, until modern times, been deemed efficacious in stanching the flow of blood, and from a study of parallel beliefs and divinations existing among various races, we conclude that these objects were prized as talismans. It is noticeable that Mr Roach Smith did not accept this interpretation, and regarded the balls simply as objects of which the use was less obvious than that of the ordinary funeral relic[751].

FIG. 58. Necklaces from British round barrows.

A. Barrel-shaped jet beads and pendant of like material, with six
smaller glass beads. Tan Hill, Wiltshire. Four-ninths of real size.

B. Amber beads and links, much decayed. Lake, Wiltshire.
Four-ninths of real size.
]

Whether we ought to consider the amber beads of British barrows as charms, or, like their fellows of glass and clay, as ornaments solely, is a moot point. The abundance of the beads increases when we reach the Saxon period. Perhaps, where they are numerous, they formed part of a necklace (Fig. 58). In more than one instance an amber bead was found attached to, or lying near, a skeleton. I am inclined to put the amber beads in a special class because of the virtues formerly assigned to this substance. Amber shielded the living from evil, and it sped the departed on their long journey. Decoration, therefore, was not the sole reason for the selection. Elton quotes an ancient Welsh poem, in which is described, with “Homeric minuteness,” the amber ornaments of the British chief Gododin:

“Adorned with a wreath was the leader, the wolf of the holm;
Amber beads in ringlets encircled his temples;
Precious was the amber, and worth a banquet of wine[752].”

The amber dug out of British barrows is usually of the red variety, not blackish or honey-coloured. Much archaeological warfare has been waged as to its place of origin. Along the East coast of Britain, from Ramsgate to Aberdeen, specimens are frequently picked up, generally of a yellowish tint. A native source, however, is not perhaps to be assigned to most of the amber beads. From their great abundance in Saxon tumuli, Elton favoured the hypothesis that the main supply came from over the North Sea[753].

The supposition that amber beads were credited with occult virtues is strengthened by folk-lore. Such beads were popularly believed to render the wearer proof against witchcraft. St Eloi forbade women to wear these objects around the neck[754]. Zest is added to our inquiry by the superstition about the “lammerbeads” (Scotch, _lammer_ = amber; cf. Fr. _l’ambre_), of Tweedside, which, on being dug out of ancient barrows, were worn as charms for the cure of weak eyes and sprained limbs, and were ultimately handed down as cherished heirlooms[755].

Among the other articles which seem to have been prized for magical or protective properties may be mentioned wolves’ teeth and boars’ tusks, perforated for suspension as charms[756]. Mention, too, must be made of a naturally perforated flint to which a fossil echinoderm (_Micraster_) was attached, found by Mr E. Lovett on the breast of a skeleton in a barrow on the Sussex Downs[757]. This last example leads us imperceptibly to our third group of funeral relics, wherein fossils occupy an important position. This third class includes articles primarily of an ornamental or decorative character. Reviewing the fossils first, we notice that primitive man had learned at an early period to collect and store up the flint echinoderms left among the residual drift of the surface over which he daily trod. We may pass by, with but a hasty glance, the fossil “sea-urchins” dug up in great numbers by Pitt-Rivers in the Romano-British villages at Rotherly (Wilts.) and Woodcuts (Dorset), since these echinoderms are believed to have served purely secular purposes, such as those of coinage[758]. In like manner the ammonites, pierced for spindle-whorls, unearthed at the Glastonbury lake-village, may be dismissed as not being graveyard specimens.

The most famous instance of the occurrence of echinoderms in burial-mounds is that recorded by Mr Worthington G. Smith from a round barrow on Dunstable Downs. The description of this discovery, which is not without pathos, is worthy of even greater renown than it has yet achieved. The barrow, on being opened, revealed the skeleton of a woman, clasping the almost perished relics of a child. One is tempted here to compare the later superstitious practice of burying an unbaptized child at the feet of an adult, to prevent the child-spirit from wandering around its former home. It has been suggested that the child may have been buried alive with its mother. Be this disquieting thought well based or not, the objects associated with the burial were of a striking nature. Besides celts and scrapers of flint, the excavators found a dozen fossil echinoderms. On extending the diggings, nearly 100 more specimens came to light, and after repeatedly shovelling and raking the soil which formed the tumulus, still more, to the number of over 200, were added to the spoils. Mr Smith, who was unfortunately not present at the first opening of the mound, concluded that the fossils had formed a border around the bodies. In his fascinating volume, _Man the Primeval Savage_, he has given us an interesting illustration of the grave as it was probably arranged before the mound was piled over it (Fig. 59). The fossils were of two species: the “Heart urchin” (_Micraster cor-anguinum_) and the “Fairy loaf” (_Echinocorys ovatus_, Leske = _Ananchytes scutatus_)[759]. A belief became somewhat generally current among archaeologists that these “urchins” had been directly obtained from the chalk. If that had been the case, the fossils would have been composed of unabraded flint, with a whitened surface, or the “tests” or outer coverings would have been of calcite, with an amorphous interior filling of chalk. But this opinion, confidently and frequently repeated, seemed to credit the Bronze Age man with much too great a familiarity with chalk fossils. It appeared strange that he should have extracted the fossils from the parent chalk by the aid of a deerhorn pick or a celt of flint or bronze. The presumption was more likely that the specimens were silicified “casts” which had been dissolved out of the chalk mass ages previously, and which, lying on, or near the surface, when the primitive settler tilled the downs for a livelihood, met with the approval of his keen eye. Accordingly, I wrote to Mr Smith, who, in a letter dated 3 May, 1909, stated that this supposition was correct--the fossils were of flint, and had been washed out of the Clay-with-Flints. In other words, they had not been derived immediately from the parent chalk.

It may be appositely remarked in this place that the fame of fossil echinoderms is well attested by the folk-name “Fairy loaf,” already given, not to speak of such genuine popular terms as “Shepherd’s crown” or “Shepherd’s helmet” (_Echinocorys_), and “Sugar loaf” (_Conulus = Echincconus = Galerites_). Concerning the Fairy loaf, the legend runs that whoso will keep a specimen in his house shall never lack bread.

FIG. 59. Skeletons of woman and child, surrounded by fossil
echinoderms. The relics were found by Mr Worthington G. Smith in a
round barrow on Dunstable Downs.
]

But the watchful eye of the barrow-builder saw other derelict fossils besides Micrasters and their allies. Man of the Neolithic and Bronze Ages, though deficient in the artistic skill of his Palaeolithic predecessor, exhibited some selective taste even in matters of daily life. Often one lights upon an implement which has been made from a particular substance chosen for its natural beauty. Thus, one perforated hammer is of a green colour; another, of gneissose rock, is banded alternately black and white; a third, from a Wiltshire barrow, contains a mass of fossil serpulae (worm-tubes). Sir John Evans, who records the last-named example, leaves it an open question whether superstition or love of beauty determined the choice[760]. While, as already suggested, the detached fossil was probably regarded as a charm, the section of such a fossil, visible on the surface of a polished celt, or the delicately moulded impression of a shell on a flint flake, was carefully left untouched, mainly for artistic reasons. One occasionally sees an axe in which a fossil remains intact, yet the tool was meant for everyday use. Scrapers, too, are often deftly fashioned from portions of a banded flint, and many arrow-heads chipped from agate or chalcedony speak of beauty as well as utility. In the course of time such objects may indeed have appealed to their owners as talismans.

Endowed, then, with acute vision which was trained to a high degree along certain lines, and gifted with the first glimmerings of artistic taste, prehistoric man learned to appreciate any conspicuous and attractive-looking fossil. That very common chalk fossil, which seems to have settled down finally to the name of _Porosphaera globularis_, and which is by general consent now regarded as a sponge, was a special favourite with men of the Barrow period. This small, spherical fossil, unfortunately nameless among common folk, occurs somewhat plentifully as a flint “pebble” in drift gravels which have originally been eroded from the chalk. Sometimes the _Porosphaera_ has a natural perforation, corresponding with one of its diameters, and thus the searcher could obtain a ready-made bead. By stringing together these fossils, a necklace was formed, and of these necklaces, the “threads” of which have perished, the number of flint “beads” found in the barrows supply convincing testimony. The salient fact is that, in several recorded instances,

FIG. 60. Specimens of the fossil sponge _Porosphaera_ (=
_Coscinopora_) _globularis_, with orifices artificially enlarged.

A, B, C, sections of the fossil; A, with hole artificially enlarged
at both ends; B, in the middle; C, at one end only. D, E, F, show
the natural shapes of _Porosphaera_, and the attempts made to
enlarge the openings. H, J, K, L, exhibit sections of the “beads,”
which contained a little organic matter, probably the remains of
the ligament by which the beads were strung. G is a perforated
fossil shell.
]

the fossils were found in groups; thus precluding natural agencies as a cause of their occurrence. In ordinary circumstances, the fossils would be isolated and scattered throughout the gravels somewhat sparingly. Moreover, Mr James Wyatt, who examined over 200 specimens of _Porosphaera_, believed, from markings which were visible when sections were cut, that in several cases the hole had been artificially enlarged with a drill[761] (Fig. 60). To enumerate barrows which have yielded this particular fossil would be wearisome, but another globular fossil, the beautifully ornamented echinoderm known as _Cidaris_, deserves a note. Evans records his having seen specimens of this fossil bored so as to form part of a Saxon necklace, and, in other cases, to serve as spindle-whorls[762].

Among the other grave-mound fossils, those of cephalopods find a place. A considerable number of belemnites lay in a “large” [i.e. British or pre-Saxon] Dorsetshire barrow opened in the eighteenth century by Colonel Drax. Douglas, who saw the specimens, figures one of them in his _Nenia Britannica_[763]. Canon Greenwell found a portion of an ammonite lying beside a skeleton in one of the Yorkshire mounds[764]. It is well to remember that a black ammonite, of which the species is not stated, is associated with the religious ceremonies of the Brahmans, being regarded by the devout as the embodiment of Vishnu[765]. Some of the larger fish teeth, occurring as fossils, also come in our list. In a tumulus described by Dr Henry Woodward, the sides of the grave were lined with the teeth of _Lepidotus_ (= _Sphaerodus_) _gigas_, a Mesozoic fish allied to the “bony pike” of North American lakes and rivers. In one case a locket-like arrangement was noticed, a kind of keyhole having been cut in the tooth[766]. I record this evidence, but not having seen the specimens referred to, cannot express an opinion on the individual example, and will merely say that the artificial nature of the hole is antecedently probable. But it is only right to add that doubt has been cast on the necessity of invoking human skill to explain certain of these orifices. Some species of boring mollusc may possibly have been the real agent. One recalls the controversy respecting the perforated sharks’ teeth of the Crag formation. To explain this feature, Mr H. A. Burrows suggested that the cavities originally represented hollows for the passage of blood-vessels, and that the perforations had been completed by subsequent friction and solution. It remains to be noted that the first collectors of fossil fish teeth lived in Palaeolithic times, since specimens, associated with flint flakes, were found at the celebrated “Palaeolithic floor” at Stoke Newington[767]. Similarly, fossil and “recent” shells, perforated for suspension, have been found in the Palaeolithic caves of France and Belgium[768]. A limestone cavern, opened by M. Dupont in the latter country in 1860, yielded a collection of fossil molluscan shells, including _Cerithium_, which must have been brought a distance of 40-50 miles. Accompanying the fossils were a piece of fluor spar and other curiosities, so that it has been suggested, with reason, as well as mirth, that here was a primitive museum[769]. British barrows have furnished specimens of the joints of encrinites (“sea-lilies”), known in folk-lore as “St Cuthbert’s beads[770].” In one case the specimen had actually been bored for stringing[771]. It is probable, indeed, that from the earliest ages men have never ceased to collect these beautiful little “beads.”

Land-and sea-shells, not usually so hard as the fossil species, have also been assiduously collected by early man for funeral gifts. It has been asserted that nearly every barrow on the Chalk Downs contains land-shells[772]. Limpet shells have been found under the megaliths of Cornwall and Brittany[773]. Saxon graves in Kent frequently yield, not only native land-and sea-shells, but also exotic cowries, which must have come from the East[774]. Necklaces made of the curious little shell, known from its shape as the “elephant’s tusk” (_Dentalium_), are recorded from barrows, and there is also a note of the discovery of the “Venus’s ear” (_Haliotis_)[775]. The catalogue might be extended, but it is already long enough to illustrate the topic under discussion.

Mention must be made of a parallel custom which was observed in Lapland in both ancient and modern times. Old Lappish graves opened near Varanger Fiord contained, besides our familiar quartz and flint, numbers of sea-urchins, presumably, though it is not explicitly so stated, belonging to recent species[776]. More interesting were the snail-shells, known by the Laplanders as _Hundsjael_, or “dog-souls,” and mussel-shells, or “cow-souls.” It seems that the natives, down to a comparatively recent period, treasured fossils and queerly-shaped stones as fetishes. Nordvi, who opened the graves, conjectured that the shells were substitutes for living dogs and cows, these animals being too precious for sacrifice[777]. This explanation is plausible as an explanation of this particular case. The natives of Ceylon, however, employed shells of a certain species for funeral purposes[778], and altogether the custom is too widely known to be explicable on narrow grounds. To round off these examples, we may note the strange cases reported from Frampton church, near Boston, in Lincolnshire. Several stone coffins, discovered in this church, were found to be filled with sand, together with the shells of cockles and other molluscans. The shells had evidently been placed in the receptacles by design, and as the bones had not perished, the speculation was put forward that the purpose of the shells was to preserve the skeleton[779]. This solution of the puzzle does not appear to be allowable, but the circumstances are certainly peculiar. The fact that the coffins were filled with material leads us to suspect that they had been tampered with at some unknown period[780]. Alternatively, we may suppose that the maritime folk of Frampton were especially given over to the belief in shells, and carried the principle to extremes. For the graves of sailors and fishermen are eminently marked out for shell decoration, though, it is true, these ornaments are now placed above ground. Frequently one reads of the practice being observed when a sailor dies in a strange land.

Our list of grave ornaments is by no means exhausted. Brooches and pins, armlets and bracelets, trinkets of gold or silver, perforated boars’ tusks and crescents of wolves’ teeth, are among the relics known to the barrow-digger. Oftentimes, the decorative and the useful objects lie side by side. We have already noticed Pliny’s allusion to mirrors. A valuable commentary is afforded by the old Swedish custom of depositing a looking-glass in the coffin of an unmarried woman[781]. Instances of the discovery of golden ornaments abound in archaeological handbooks. We look around for an instance of survival, and meet with a startling example of recent date. The incident took place at the funeral of Lord Palmerston in Westminster Abbey, in 1865, and is thus described by Mr Moncure D. Conway: “The rain fell heavily, the wind howled about the old walls, and in that darkness the body was lowered--gold rings along with dust falling on the coffin[782].” This story is of the provoking kind which makes the reader put questions, but Mr Conway, alas, has now also passed beyond the reach of inquiries, and we must be content with the definite statement, inherently probable, and made in all honesty. Perhaps light may come from a study of the practice of presenting rings at funerals to the mourners,--a custom frequently alluded to by John Evelyn in his _Diary_. Were these funeral gifts ever thrown into the grave as votive offerings?

With the foregoing incident we may compare the evidence given in the _Victoria History of Cornwall_, tending to show that the practice of burying rings, coins, and other articles, was common in Cornwall during the Mediaeval period and lasted until the latter part of the sixteenth century. Still more singular is the persistence of the practice of laying combs along with the other mortuary furniture. Wooden combs are not unusually found in settlements of the Bronze Age[783], and examples in bone are of common occurrence on Early Iron Age sites. It is believed, however, that some of these combs were employed, not for arranging the hair, but for pressing home the weft in the manufacture of fabrics[784]. But when we approach the Saxon period, we find the ordinary comb installed as a recognized grave gift. Contemporary burials on the Continent, in North France, in Luxembourg, in Belgium, tell the same story[785]. The Saxon combs, incised with lines and circles, were laid in the graves both of men and women. Turning to our _Hydriotaphia_, and reading once more of Browne’s discovery, in his beloved Norfolk, of “nippers” and “combs handsomely wrought[786],” we are tempted to pursue the matter. The sequel is curious: combs, in later history, appear to have been reserved for burials of members of the priestly order. The beginnings of the practice are seen as early as the days of St Cuthbert, on whose breast was found, when his body was disinterred in Durham Cathedral, a plain simple Saxon comb of ivory[787]. Later records are numerous, and it has been conjectured that the combs were those which had been used at the first tonsure of the novice[788]. The comb played an important part in Mediaeval ritual, as related by Dr Daniel Rock. These objects were of ivory, elaborately carved, and studded with gems. At the High Mass, the hair of the celebrant was combed by someone appointed for that purpose, this coadjutor varying according to the rank of his superior[789]. Mr Romilly Allen, in discussing the changes in the methods of sepulture brought about by the spread of Christianity, asserts that no objects were placed in the grave with the Christian dead[790]. This pronouncement, even when made by such a high authority, must not be accepted literally. Apart from the comb, ecclesiastics had other special articles buried with them. Mr Allen himself notices the striking exception of burying a crozier in the coffin of a bishop[791]. The chalice and paten were also commonly deposited with priests. Specimens of these articles, with a pair of scissors, were found in the coffin of St Cuthbert. Dr Rock tells us, too, that small wooden crosses, gilded with metal, were placed in the coffin, and on the breast of the corpse was a parchment scroll, inscribed with the Absolution. Again, while on the one hand, Professor Tylor has shown that the early Christians of Rome and Greece retained the heathen custom of placing in the tomb articles of toilet and children’s playthings[792]; on the other, records prove that in our own country there has always been a secret longing to place gifts in the grave. The truth seems to be that, down to our own day, there has existed among the more ignorant classes an undercurrent of belief, essentially pagan in its origin, usually driven under by the external pressure of orthodoxy and public opinion, but so strong and permanent, that it often reaches the surface, to the surprise of the more intelligent folk. But the heathen belief has been present all the time, and need not greatly astonish us, since the most advanced materialist is frequently a victim of trivial superstitions which are scouted by scientific men as absurd and baseless.

The fourth group of articles with which we have to deal, comprising objects partly useful and partly symbolical or commemorative, will not detain us long. The sole reason for considering this miscellaneous group separately is its diversified character--the objects do not so readily fall into classes. One or two modern examples will illustrate the kind of collection sometimes met with. While this chapter was being written, the daily newspaper supplied an account of the burial of a gipsy woman and her son at Tiverton. All the woman’s jewellery was deposited in her coffin, and, by the side of her son, the mourners laid his watch and chain. All the other personal effects were burned. A short time previously the same journal had recorded the funeral of an old mountain hermit at Carnarvon. The dead man was buried in his ordinary clothes, and with him were placed his pipe, his tobacco pouch and walking-stick. Only a whim, exclaims the careless reader, but the fancy was not bred for the first time in the brain of that old recluse. Other folk, not unobservant, recognize that such a miscellany of votive offerings is evidence of an older condition of culture, and that the variety of objects proves only the decay of tradition, with a consequent confusion of ideas. To some degree this is true, but the ethnologist and the archaeologist can decipher the meaning otherwise, and can show that primitive peoples love to offer a wealth of objects. First, the student of ethnology notices similar customs prevailing in many countries. The practice was well known to the ancients, and the translator of Ovid has thus rendered the idea:

“Tombs have their honours, too, our parents crave
Some slender present to adorn the grave....
They only ask a tile, with garlands crowned,
And fruit and salt to scatter on the ground.”

Salt, by the way, was formerly strewn on graves in the North of England. Sir William Turner tells how the grave of an aboriginal Australian savage, who was buried only a little over sixty years ago, contained a varied assortment of articles, not all of quite the same age. The list included a large piece of flint and the handle of a pocket-knife--probably fire agents--a clay pipe, an iron spoon, and the remains of a rusted pannikin[793]. In Bengal, modern graves have revealed such diverse objects as rice, tinfoil coins, pipes, paper houses, and models of boats[794]. Thus the custom under notice, though of isolated occurrence in Britain, has its correlative in other lands. But even in Britain, one hears whisperings of weird customs. A lock of wool used to be placed in the coffins of Wiltshire shepherds. The traditional explanation was that shepherds are often unavoidably absent from church, and the wool was a guarantee that the nature of the man’s calling would not be overlooked at the great assize. But elsewhere we read of the desire to inter some tool or vessel typical of the occupation of the deceased person; and with this habit we might connect the practice, common in Scotland and the North of England, of carving tools and implements on gravestones.

FIG. 61. Roman Sepulchral chest, found at Avisford, Sussex. The
chest was formed out of a single block and was covered with a flat
slab. The square glass vessel in the middle contained calcined
bones. Around this vessel were disposed three earthen vases with
handles, several paterae, a pair of sandals, an oval dish, with
handle, scalloped round the edge, containing a transparent
egg-shaped agate. Three lamps are fixed on supporting projections
of stone.
]

The archaeologist advances to inspect examples of early tombs rich in funeral relics. He pauses a moment to remark the abundance of objects sometimes found in Saxon graves: swords and buckets, rivets and nails, weighing scales and bunches of keys, drinking-cups, brooches, buttons, and many other articles[795]. The Romans, too, besides entombing coins and jewellery, added such objects as sandals, glass vessels, and amphorae[796] (Fig. 61). The taste for accumulating grave-gifts can be observed in the earlier Barrow period. A Bronze Age barrow at Aldbourne, Wiltshire, supplies perhaps the most noteworthy example. This grave contained an exceptional number of articles. Besides the “incense-cup,” with its characteristic ornament, the excavators found, among the burnt bones, a small bronze knife and two bronze awls, each tool bearing signs of having passed through the funeral fire. Beads were also discovered, wrought from such different materials as glass-paste, amber, and lignite, and one from the stem of an encrinite. The list further included a large flat ring and a pendant ornament of lignite, a conical button made of shale, a small polished pebble of haematite, and the cast of a cardium shell, presumably in a fossil condition. The flint flakes, the arrow-heads and shards, the bones, tusks, and teeth of animals, which complete the list[797], seem unimpressive by the side of such a collection. Here then, in very early times, we see the system of funeral gifts highly developed. The abundance of objects displayed in the Aldbourne barrow may indicate the burial of someone whose importance was pre-eminent, but in other cases, where the number, rather than the value, of the gifts is noticeable, there seems to have been a desire to supply the deceased person with all things conveniently obtainable. Food, weapons, and charms, ornaments and luxuries were thus provided. Our modern representative relics of this cultural stage furnish a list, meagre by comparison, but still significant by reason of its eclectic character. The same idea, materialized in somewhat different forms, impelled the man of old and the man of yesterday. Belief in a future state, at times modified by fear and faint in its expression, at others amounting to a profound conviction, has tinctured almost all of our funeral ceremonies. Savage and sage, for some thousands of years past, seem to have acted towards the dead in accordance with the word of our English philosopher: “It is the heaviest stone that melancholy can throw at a man to tell him he is at the end of his nature[798].”

We have yet to review, very briefly, three or four interesting subjects which fall within the scope of this already lengthy chapter. The Burial Service of the Anglican Church provides for earth to be cast on the coffin “by some standing by,” while the priest pronounces the solemn words, “earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” This combination of phrases has been traced to a similar passage in the Sarum Manual, a passage founded in turn, it is supposed, on several Biblical expressions[799]. A little doubt, however, hangs over the ultimate origin of the words of the Commendation, though the precise form of the phrases may be due to Scriptural influence. The idea underlying the words, and its mode of operation, are alike ancient. For my part, I think that the expression plainly points to a time when cremation and inhumation were both familiar to the community; that is to say, some equivalent words were used when the early Christians of Britain had begun to combat, not altogether with success, the system of burning the body. If the words “earth to earth” and “dust to dust” stood alone, it might fairly be argued that the compilers of the earliest Services believed literally in the creation of man from the dust. But the phrase “ashes to ashes” forbids that interpretation. It has, so far as may be known, never been taught that man originally came from ashes, though, figuratively, in moments of contrition, he has declared himself to be “but dust and ashes.” The collocation of the phrases seems to betray a compromise between modes of burial. Parenthetically, we note that the Roman practice, as described by Horace, was to cast earth three times upon the body[800]. Until this was done, the spirit could not enter Elysium. It is probable that a like custom goes back to the Barrow period. Canon Greenwell supposes that, at a barrow funeral, each of the tribesmen carried his portion of earth, probably in a basket[801]. This conjecture receives support from the conduct of certain South African tribes, the members of which share the task of scooping together the material for the burial-mound, using however, for that purpose, the hands alone. The same procedure is followed by Lascars when burying a comrade in a strange land[802].

Let us examine a little further this co-operation of the mourners, as testified by actual survival. As already stated, the rubric directs that the earth shall be cast upon the body “by some standing by,” while the priest repeats the collect or “Commendation.” In practice, the sexton usually throws in the earth, although I feel certain that I have more than once seen the officiating clergyman perform this office. The rubric, as we know it, was formulated in the year 1552. Prior to that date, the soil was cast upon the corpse by the priest[803]. We may take it that this was the more common practice in Mediaeval times. The ceremony was also rendered symbolical in some districts by strewing the earth in the form of a cross[804]. Again, as in the Ritual of Brixen, the priest scattered the earth three times with a shovel[805]. In the Greek rite, too, the lot fell to the priest[806]. Among the Jews, each relative of the dead person threw earth on the coffin[807], and there are records of a like observance in Christian communities[808]. The daily newspapers occasionally report instances of the practice in our own day. Taking these isolated examples, and comparing them with the custom, once common in rural England, of five or six persons assisting the sexton to fill up the grave[809], we can outline a simple hypothesis. The early Christians probably followed their heathen contemporaries in allowing the interment to be a common labour. Afterwards, the throwing in of handfuls of earth--and perhaps of ashes also (cf. p. 290 _supra_, concerning charcoal)--was a rite in which many took part, the antiphonal service being chanted during the act. In the later Mediaeval period the priest seems largely to have usurped the office. The Reformation allotted the function once more to the mourners in general, at least nominally, and on rare occasions the right is still exercised. The original meaning is forgotten, and symbolism is evoked to explain the practice. And just as some writers are content to see, in the ashes, merely a symbol of penitence and humiliation, as illustrated in the old Ash Wednesday observances, so other authorities, with what appears to be a short view, deem the earth simply typical of man’s reputed origin and mortality: _Hodie mihi, cras tibi_. It seems more in accord with facts to recognize the bit of soil thrown into the grave as a vestigial proof of the continuity of habit, weakened to some degree because the ceremony, instead of being generally shared by the mourners, is performed vicariously by the sexton.

The next survival to claim our attention is illustrated by the Lancashire custom, in vogue not further back than the year 1888, of sending a small sheaf of wheat to be distributed, at the time of the funeral, to the relatives of the deceased person[810]. At once the words of the Burial Service, and the Scriptural allusion to the “corn of wheat,” come to mind[811]. The ancient Christians considered wheat to be a symbol of the resurrection of the body, and this idea is exemplified on a gem described by De Montfaucon. The ear of wheat, carved in wood or stone, seems to perpetuate an old pagan belief. The custom, in varied forms, is as widespread as it is time-honoured. At a modern Greek funeral two men were observed carrying each a dish of parboiled wheat to be deposited over the corpse[812]. General Pitt-Rivers quotes Professor Pearson to the effect that the burning of corn on graves was forbidden by the Church in Saxon times[813]. This ban implies that the practice had its roots in pagan soil, so that all that the Christians did was to change the underlying principle. General Pitt-Rivers himself found ears of corn mixed with the sand near a Romano-British grave which contained a skeleton, and he also recorded the finding of charred wheat in contiguity with skeletons belonging probably to the Roman period[814]. Closely connected with these observances is the practice of placing corn and other articles of food on the grave. Instances are multitudinous. In the recesses of the Pamirs, corn, berries, and flowers are the offerings[815]; the Spaniards deposit bread and wine on the anniversary of death; the Bulgarians hold a special Feast of the Dead on Palm Sunday, and eat the remains of the funeral offerings[816]. The subject is, indeed, wide and complicated. At the back of the attenuated ceremony of to-day lies the primitive belief in the life of the dead, with the consequent feasts and sacrifices. The inquiry, upon which we cannot now enter, soon leads us into an investigation of the corn-gods and “gods of cultivation,” which are associated with the religions of primitive folk. For a discussion of these matters, the reader is referred to the exhaustive works of Professor Frazer and Mr Grant Allen.

With respect to the burial feasts of the prehistoric period, the line of descent might be easily traced. The funeral suppers given by the Greeks and Romans to the relatives of a dead person are frequently referred to by classical authors. Similar feasts are mentioned by our English writers from the time of Robert de Brunne (fl. A.D. 1288-1338) onwards[817]. Huge repasts--shall we not say orgies?--continued in fashion until the eighteenth century at least. Brand relates that, at the funeral of a Highland lord in 1725, not fewer than 100 black cattle and 300 sheep were slain “for the entertainment of the company[818].” Nowadays the feast has dwindled, in most localities, to a glass of wine and a biscuit. But there have been some amazing exceptions. Canon Atkinson, in the earlier years of his incumbency at Danby-in-Cleveland, about the middle of the nineteenth century, found that the “funeral bak’d meats” were held in high esteem. On the death of a villager of importance, invitations were sent out “not merely by the score, but by the hundred. I have myself counted,” he says, “more than three hundred seated in the church on at least four, if not five, different occasions. And the rule is, and, still more, was, that the preponderating majority of these ‘went to the burial’ at the house where the corpse lay, beginning at ten o’clock and continuing to drop in, according to convenience or distance to be traversed, throughout the morning and afternoon till it became time to ‘lift the body’ and make a start for the church. And all these were fed--entertained, rather--at the house of mourning, if it chanced to be that of one of the principal inhabitants.” All day long there were relays of visitors, from a dozen up to a score, smoking and drinking at the house[819]. During the latter part of the entertainment glasses of wine were handed round, with crisp cakes, colloquially known as “averils” or “averil bread[820].” Canon Atkinson traced this word thus: _averil_, _avril_, then by transposition, _arvil_ or _arvel_ (= heir-ale). This “heir-ale,” or succession-ale, thus stands for the feast at which the heirs drank themselves into their father’s land. It is interesting to note that this etymology is supported by the highest authorities--for example, by the _New Oxford Dictionary_.

Whilst insisting on the continuity of custom and folk-memory, as proved by survivals, it would be very unwise to ignore the changes which have been gradually taking place since the Barrow period. Looking, for the moment, at extreme cases, the actual result appears to reveal a wide gap, and for the sake of contrast, I will quote Mr Grant Allen’s fanciful description of the burial of a chieftain in a long barrow on Ogbury Downs, Wiltshire. The passage is long and somewhat ornate, but, because it is probably correct in most of the details, and helps us to “visualize the past,” it shall be given in full. “I saw them bear aloft, with beating of breasts and loud gesticulations, the bent corpse of their dead chieftain: I saw the terrified and fainting wives haled along by thongs of raw oxhide, and the weeping prisoners driven passively like sheep to the slaughter: I saw the fearful orgy of massacre and rapine around the open tumulus, the wild priest shattering with his gleaming tomahawk the skulls of his victims, the fire of gorse and low brushwood prepared to roast them, the heads and feet flung carelessly on the top of the yet uncovered stone chamber, the awful dance of blood-stained cannibals around the mangled remains of men and oxen, and, finally, the long task of heaping up above the stone hut of the dead king the earthen mound that was never again to be opened to the light of day till, ten thousand years later, we modern Britons invaded with our prying, sacrilegious mattock the sacred privacy of the cannibal ghost[821].”

A curious side-question is raised by this mention of funeral feasts--the difficulty sometimes felt in accounting for the abundance of teeth, human and non-human, in ancient graves. Granted, that the heads of animals might be thrown into the grave as uneatable, or, perchance, as having accredited virtues, and granted, again, that teeth are among the most durable portions of a skeleton, the facts are occasionally puzzling. Baron de Baye suggests that the heads of sacrificial animals--he is referring to the Saxon period--were fixed on large stakes as offerings to the gods, and that, as the heads decayed, the teeth became detached, and were scattered over the ground, to be accidentally mixed with the soil when a fresh burial took place[822]. The explanation may be partially true, but one thinks that a simpler solution is at hand, in the successive interments and sacrifices which would be associated with one grave. This would lead to inevitable mingling of bones and teeth, and if, as is probable, the skeletons of the dead were often kept some time before they were buried, the confusion would be increased. This would account for the numbers of human teeth found in the Late-Celtic cemetery at Harlyn Bay, not corresponding to the skeletons with which they were associated. In one cist there were twenty-three teeth which did not belong to that particular interment[823]. Though putting forward the prosaic explanation of unintentional mixture, I think that there is another phase of the question--the superstitious. Among primitive folk there is commonly a belief in the efficacy of human bones as talismans. The atlas and axis bones of the neck have been preserved for this purpose, and the skull especially has been treasured and worshipped[824]. It is very probable that pieces of human skulls which had, either in life or after death, undergone the operation of trepanning, were kept as mascots. And, remembering the part played by teeth in folk-lore and superstition, one is compelled to retain an open mind on the subject of teeth found in ancient graves. Messrs Spencer and Gillen have described, in a vivid manner, the ceremony of knocking out the teeth, as performed by some of the tribes of Central Australia. The operation is accompanied by the drinking of blood as an act of fealty, the displaced teeth being pounded, laid on a scrap of meat, and eaten by a specified relative[825]. Again, in Cornwall, the very county, as it happens, in which Harlyn Bay is situated, teeth were formerly stolen from the coffins under the floors of churches and sold as charms against disease[826]. According to the Devonshire superstition, a tooth bitten out of a churchyard skull will ward off toothache, and the Shropshire peasant has a similar legend[827]. All over England we hear of the fancy for preserving or ceremonially burning teeth which have been extracted. Somersetshire women would hide the teeth in their hair[828], but more usually, the teeth, like the parings of the nails and locks of hair, are burnt, lest they should fall into the hands of an enemy who, by “sympathetic magic,” might injure the whole body of the owner[829]. The most suggestive evidence, however, comes from Yorkshire, Derbyshire, and Cornwall. In those counties all the teeth shed during a person’s lifetime were saved and placed in his coffin, being “required at the Resurrection.” Authentic instances are on record[830].

We have now surveyed, however inadequately, our modes of burial, the forms of the graves, the gifts deposited with the dead, and funeral feasts, and incidentally we have noticed a number of superstitions. We may fittingly terminate the discussion by glancing at the closing ceremony of a modern funeral--the placing of flowers on the grave. The practice has its aesthetic as well as its religious side, and represents the refinement of ideas which are really very ancient. Even in the time of Durandus, the funeral evergreens were deemed to be symbolical only[831]. The rite of strewing graves with flowers was symbolical, too, among the Romans. Yet this kindly ceremony belongs, in the first place, to the pre-Christian age[832], and we are bound to believe that the original objects scattered over the dead were neither evergreens nor flowers. Perhaps these prototypes were the flints and shards of which we have spoken. These “forgotten things, long cast behind,” have reappeared, in a more attractive guise, and, consecrated by time, have secured a firm hold in the sentiments of European nations.