A pertinent fact was observed by Mr James Logan, a generation ago. He noticed that moot-hills were the seats of assemblies which afterwards came to be held in churches[182]. Further, he discovered that stone-circles were also formerly used for meetings: he thus anticipated the conclusions of later writers. One remarkable instance is given. So late as A.D. 1380, a Court of Regality was held “apud le stand and Stanes de la Rath de Kingusie[183].” Of the moot-hills proper, Logan found that these were often actually dedicated to saints. The Hill of Scone was known as the Collis Credulitatis. Here we have obviously a consecration due to the influence of Christianity. When, at a somewhat later period, the custom was introduced of holding the courts in churches, the clergy objected on the ground that the sacred building was not suited to such a purpose. A canon was issued forbidding the laity to hold such meetings within the church. These injunctions were frequently disobeyed[184]. Up to this point, Logan is a safe guide, and his theories can be justified by documentary evidence. He is supported, too, by comparative customs. Professor F. Kauffmann, for instance, states that the pagan temples of the West Teutons were situated near the places of judgement, where the Things, or popular assemblies, were held[185]. The “doom-rings,” or stone-circles, of Iceland were used as judgement seats down to a late period. Thus far, Logan’s view is corroborated. But when, misled apparently by the Christian dedications just referred to, he proceeds to argue that moot-hills were raised after the use of churches was disallowed, he exactly reverses the order of events. The stone-circles, according to his own presentment of facts, must have been reared for the same cause, and, similarly, at a late period. One suspects that vague ideas respecting the age of the megaliths led to a hasty conclusion as to the age of the moot-hills. The real history would be that the spots most convenient for folk-moots were most suitable for worship, and that consequently it was politic to build churches there. To what extent the moot-hills were originally sepulchral is, for the moment, inessential. That verdict lies with the labourer’s mattock and spade, not with the theories of the student, who can only collate the records. To resume: little by little, as we shall find, secular business began to be transacted in the churches, and the primary purpose of moot-hills slowly vanished. One result, perhaps, was that the name “moot-hill,” in some cases, got wrongly applied to mounds that had not been used for assemblies. This error probably sprang from the confusion of the moat (mota), belonging to the castle-mound, with the better known and already accredited “moot[186].”
That some of the moot-hills are actually barrows has been proved by excavation. Duggleby Howe, a moot-hill, or “rath,” in the East Riding, was opened by Mr J. R. Mortimer for Sir Tatton Sykes in 1880, and was found to be a prehistoric grave-mound. The relics happened to be very abundant[187]. To show the fallibility even of conclusions based on the results of experimental diggings, another case, reported by Mr Mortimer, may be cited. Eleven miles from the Duggleby moot-hill is another hillock known as Willy Howe. The two mounds are exactly alike in size, shape, and other respects, yet, although Willy Howe has been twice opened, no skeleton has been encountered. Mr Mortimer, evidently anxious to point a much-needed moral, remarks, “Had the excavation at Duggleby been no wider than that of Willy Howe, the two graves containing the primary interments would not have been found[188].” To compare small things with great, one may recall the boring and the tunnelling of the famous Silbury Hill. The toil was barren of results, and one feels that no really safe deduction can be drawn from this negative testimony.
Having admitted that some moot-hills are really mottes, it will be well to lay stress on the present contention that other moot-hills are of a date anterior to that of castle-mounds. If mota has been corrupted into “moot,” the word “moot” itself has also suffered rough treatment. Mr Mortimer speaks of a knoll which perplexed the antiquaries, because it was variously known as Mud, Mude, and Mundal Hill. The real name proved to be Moot Hill, and, although no proper excavations have been made, a bronze celt has been dug up, along with Mediaeval relics, and Mr Mortimer believes that the mound is a British grave[189].
Again, though the castle-mound, especially when standing near the parish church, was convenient as a place of assembly, yet there is a danger in resting satisfied with this truth, and refusing to probe matters further. Mr Allcroft notices several examples of so-called moot-hills which are really castle-mounds, and notices one in particular at Walton-on-the-Hill, Surrey, which is believed to be of this nature. He observes that this mound is surrounded by a ditch, which would be useless for a moot-hill, but would be fitting for a motte on which the lord’s dwelling was built. He therefore concludes that in such cases the motte was degraded to a moot-hill[190]. This criticism is both acute and just, but does it cover the whole field? Moots are very ancient institutions. Is it not quite as likely that, in many instances, the castle-mound was an earlier moot-hill, and that the fosse was constructed when the turris was about to be built? And how are we to know, in the absence of proof to the contrary, that the fosse is not, in some cases, the encircling trench of a large round barrow, deepened for purposes of defence? Moreover can the plea of uselessness be valid against moot-hills, when we remember the frequent occurrence of circular trenches around these barrows and also around some megaliths? The trenches may, in some instances, have been incidental to the mode of construction. These are not idle questions. Some of the moot-hills of the East Riding seem to be grave-hills which were consecrated by making incised crosses on the chalky mound to a depth of several feet. The arms of the cross, in each case, are directed towards the cardinal points. Mr Mortimer believes that the carving of the symbol on the mound gave sanctity to the spot[191]. Frankness compels one to note that the local name for these sunken crosses is bields (= shelters), the underlying notion being that the trenches were originally dug as cattle shelters, and that they were made crosswise to afford protection from all quarters of the heavens. But this explanation could not possibly apply to other crosses, in low relief, formed of ridges of earth and stones, occurring on other ancient sites[192]. Nor is it valid for the intaglio crosses, since these were usually found to have been filled with broken bones and Saxon shards[193]. As shedding light on these strange discoveries, it may be noticed that, in old Saxony, an open-air tribunal was consecrated by digging a grave, into which were thrown ashes, a coal, and a tile[194]. In passing, we note that these moot-hills are often known alternatively as Gallows or Galley Hills, names which evidently denote places set apart for judicial executions[195]. The antiquity of such names may not be very great, and there is a possibility that the word “Galley” in some cases simply means poor and unfertile. Yet there are traditions that gallows stood on these spots, and both the word “gallows” and the thing denoted are ancient. The word is as old as Beowulf, and although hanging does not appear to have been a mode of punishment greatly favoured by the Saxons, it was not altogether unknown. William the Conqueror made provisions to restrict the practice of hanging, a penalty which, curious to relate, was in his day thought more cruel than mutilation[196].
We have now reached this point: a moot-hill may be natural or artificial, and, if artificial, it may, or may not, be a burial mound. That the pagan Saxons respected mounds which they believed to be barrows is fairly evident. Thomas Wright has clearly shown that Roman monumental inscriptions not infrequently contain warnings against neglect of, or disrespect to, the tombs of the departed. Besides, therefore, the leaven of superstition, I consider that we must reckon with the probability of living knowledge, the result of direct transmission, possessed by those members of the population who understood debased Latin at the time of the Teutonic invasion. Some of the venerated mounds were employed as boundaries[197]. We shall find, at a later stage of our studies, that the half-Christianized folk were apt to resort to the barrows for the burial of their dead. Roads are even reported to swerve a little from their course to avoid a grave-mound. These clues are “light as air, but strong as links of iron.” The pivotal fact to be remembered is that, wherever the church-builders found a reputed barrow at a spot not altogether unsuitable in other respects, they would recognize the sanctity of the mound, and would be enticed to accept it as a fit neighbour for the new structure.
A possible illustration seems to be afforded by a hummock which is in contiguity with the churchyard at Old Hunstanton, Norfolk. Canon A. Jessopp surmised that this mound was a moot-hill[198], but excavations, we are now informed, have proved that the knoll is purely natural[199]. Accepting the correctness of this conclusion, one may yet reasonably retain the hypothesis that the mound was used as an open-air court. Both the early settlers and the later architects may conceivably have mistaken the hillock for a sepulchre. Our problem does not concern alone the character of the knoll, but the purpose to which it was applied. We have not simply to ask, Is the mound an artifact? but, How came the church to be associated with the mound? Were such an instance solitary, it would not be worth a moment’s thought. Contrariwise, if the examples are numerous, as they undoubtedly are, we are not justified in dismissing them summarily and without reserve.
The third group of mounds placed in the vicinity of churches will detain us a still shorter time than did the second. The “Toot Hills” are frequently confounded with the “Moot Hills,” both in name and nature. Often, indeed, a particular eminence would serve both purposes, and it would be difficult to define each class with distinctness. The Toot Hill at Pirton ([p. 60] supra) is accepted as a castle motte, though it must have also been an earthwork watch-tower. Such outposts, or places of observation, have been employed by many peoples. Xenophon and Herodotus speak of the σκοπιἁ, or watch-tower, while Cicero and Livy use specula in practically the same sense (view-point or beacon). In Britain the toot-hills appear to have been utilized throughout the Middle Ages; perhaps, too, they did not fall into entire disuse until after the Peninsular War, but were employed, at intervals, in times of stress and danger. When they did not serve as rallying points, they were still valuable for beacon-fires.
The word “toot” is almost certainly derived from A. S. tōtian, to project, to peep, the allusion being primarily to the swelling or protuberance of the ground (cf. tumulus) and afterwards to the watch which was kept from its summit. Professor J. Tait has collected much interesting lore concerning the word. Thus, the word which in the Authorized Version of the Bible (Isa. xxi. 8) is rendered “watch-tower” was translated “toothyl” by Wyclif[200]. The Vulgate renders the term by specula. Mr Allcroft further connects the word “toot” with A.S. tutta, a spy[201]. The absurd etymologies once in vogue, such as that which associated “toot” with Taith, a pagan deity, are now relinquished. Among the variations and compounds of “toot” are Tout Hill, Tothill, Tutt Hill (near Thetford), Tutbury, Tothill Fields, Touting Hill, Beltout (Sussex), and others. Some of these are familiar to us as names of villages and districts. Sir John Rhŷs describes vantage-points in the Isle of Man, which are evidently the equivalents of our toot-hills. These knolls are called cronks, and they are found near churches. Thus, we have “Cronk yn Iree Laa,” near Jurby, a name which signifies “Hill of the Rise of Day,” or possibly, “Hill of Watch and Ward[202].” In Ireland an artificial hillock of this kind is called Moate-o’-Ward, or alternatively, a rath or Danes’ Grave. In the popular mind, again, our English word has been associated with burial mounds and banked enclosures. For instance, a long barrow in Staffordshire is known as the Fairy’s Toot. The Toot Hill at Uttoxeter was found to contain both Neolithic and Roman remains. Again, the quadrilateral earthwork at Toothill, near Macclesfield, is provisionally believed, as the result of spade-work, to be an early fortification.
Mr S. O. Addy, in his valuable work The Evolution of the English House, speaks of the presence of “Tout” or “Touting Hills” near parish churches, but, from his descriptions, it would seem that most of his examples are genuine castle-mounds[203]. In two features, however, the mound which is a toot-hill, and nothing more, occasionally differs from the other hillocks which we are