Byways in British Archaeology

by Walter Johnson

was sometimes provided for the dogs of the local squire. Examples of these recesses could be seen at Aveley, Essex, and Northorpe, Lincolnshire, not much more than a century back[447]. At Northorpe, the dogs’ pew was just within the chancel arch. Nevertheless, not everyone, was permitted to take his dog to church. The dog-whipper was a recognized officer in many churches, and it is common to find, in church accounts, entries relating to the payment of this functionary[448]. In some cases the office was endowed, and the salary, though small, was fixed. His pew was sometimes marked with the words “The dog-whipper.” The dogs kept out of the building were doubtless those belonging to farmers and shepherds. Custom was not uniform, but, as a rule, the minister does not seem to have raised any objection to quiet animals. Some of the contrivances employed by the dog-whipper, or “dog-noper” (noper, knauper = striker), are peculiar. Generally, the weapon was a thick stick, to which was attached a stout lash or thong, but in some churches instruments known as dog-tongs ([Fig. 41], p. 169 supra) were used. These weapons were especially necessary when shepherd dogs flew at each other’s throats. Such fights often led to local disputes, and the incumbent then felt bound to interfere.

There are records which are more distasteful even than those which tell of taking dogs to church. When we read of card-playing and cock-fighting in church, we are really compelled to regard these as acts of wanton impiety which marked a period of deadness in religion. The records are certainly sporadic. Again, there is good reason to believe the tradition, met with at Chislehurst and elsewhere, that parishioners left the house of prayer and walked across the green to the cockpit. At Hayes, in Middlesex, it is said that the uncouth and brutal custom of throwing at cocks in the churchyard was kept up so late as A.D. 1754[449].

It has been a difficult feat to disentangle the secular use of the nave from that of the churchyard. The reason is simple: the play of social and administrative forces was rarely quite balanced and continuously uniform for any considerable length of time. Alternately, the church and the graveyard were utilized for parochial purposes, as ecclesiastical power and public opinion rose and fell. In addition, before the final severance was made, there was a period when assemblies were allowed to be held in the churchyard, on sufferance only. We have seen that, when fairs and markets were impending, the clergy sometimes permitted the church to be used as a warehouse or exchange. Contemporaneously with, as well as subsequently to, this use of the church, we find the traders being pushed into the churchyard, and thence to the village green, or a pasture field.

The village fair was commonly held on the day which was dedicated to the patron saint of the church. This coincidence often proves helpful to the investigator, for when the original dedication of a church has been lost, it may perhaps be recovered by noticing the date of the fair, which gives the anniversary of the saint[450]. (The saint’s day and the dedication festival are not now always coincident, but the divergence may not be a primitive feature.) The agreement of dates doubtless takes us back to the days when Christianity had not yet become supreme, and when the leaders took advantage of any casual support, such as would be obtained by holding the patronal festival on a day devoted to the affairs of popular assemblies or the pleasures of a general holiday. Naturally, there long remained a close connection between the feast and the church fabric which was the centre of much of the activity of the community. When fairs, in the strict sense, began to be held, the old date of the feast would still be retained. For many a century, too, no serious attempt was made to deprive the merry-makers of the right to meet within the sacred enclosure. Farmers came to buy or sell stock, labourers stood for hire, merchants arrived from distant towns to trade in wool or grain, pedlars spread their wares on the tombstones in the churchyard, while the populace gave itself over to pastime and refreshment.

Intermittently, murmurs were heard respecting these doings. Thus, in a presentment (A.D. 1416) from St Michael-le-Belfry, in the city of York, complaint is made of the tumult and clamour caused by the traders. On Sundays and holidays there was “a common market of vendibles in the churchyard.” All kinds of goods were exposed for sale (diversa res et bona ac cirpi [= rushes] vendicioni ibidem exponuntur); while horses stood over the dead and defiled the graves[451]. Especially when a cathedral or church possessed some famous shrine or relic, as at Canterbury, Walsingham, and Glastonbury, pilgrims and traders met on common ground. For a long time it was customary, at St Audrey’s fair, to erect booths in Ely Cathedral, for the sale of laces made of thin silk[452]. Pilgrims from afar would naturally require refreshment at the end of their journey, and the victuallers of the cities were always ready to meet the demand. But, unfortunately, to the legitimate buying and selling of food and drink, was appended the boisterousness of minstrels, actors, and jugglers[453].

Perhaps the most important legislation against churchyard commerce is contained in the Statute of Winchester, A.D. 1285 (13 Edw. I., c. 6), which forbade the holding of fairs and markets in churchyards[454]. The act, however, proved ineffectual, for, in A.D. 1368, Archbishop Simon Langham found it necessary to issue a mandate against Sunday markets in the Isle of Sheppey, where the traders approached so near the church as to interrupt the celebration of Mass. Later infractions have already been noticed ([p. 174] supra), so that the story may be cut short by citing such cases of survival as those of All Saints, Northampton, and Laughton-en-le-Morthen, Yorkshire, where, until modern times, fairs were held in the churchyards[455]. The churchyard at Laughton was of enormous size, and in this respect, at least, was well adapted for its purpose.

I have suggested that the coincidence of fair day and saint’s day is a vestige of a very early compromise, when the dedication festival was substituted for heathen ceremonial. The idea may be pursued in two other directions. First, we might observe how many fairs, or feasts, are held at seasons which are known to correspond to pagan festivals, for example, Whitsuntide and midsummer. It would then be seen to what extent the dedication periods were in harmony with those of festivals, either as regards actual coincidence of dates, or preliminary warnings.

Sir Norman Lockyer and the Rev. J. Griffith have called attention to the large number of fairs which are held on the festival, or quarter days, of the “May Year.” These writers consider that such fairs are the representatives of meetings summoned when fires were lighted and Gorsedds or Gorseddau (see p. 98 supra) were erected. The fairs and the churches together “mark for us the loci of the original circle-worship, and the fact that we are dealing with the May Year and not the solstice shows that we have to do with a very high antiquity.” Our fairs, according to this view, represent “thousands of British Gorsedds, the pedigrees of which are as unimpeachable as that of the Welsh institution[456].” To the present writer, this theory seems to go much beyond the recorded facts, but time and further inquiry may tell.

The second mode of research is to ascertain with what frequency the village fairs are, or were, kept near ancient monuments or earthworks. Thus, from time immemorial a sheep fair has been held within the oval camp on the top of Woodbury Hill, near Bere Regis, in Dorset[457]. Mr Thomas Hardy has seized upon this fact, and has deftly worked it into the opening chapter of Far from the Madding Crowd. Another earthwork used in this way is that known as Yarnborough, or Yarnbury Castle, in the parish of Hanging Langford, Wiltshire[458]. As these words are being written, one may see bills on the walls in London announcing that special trains are to be run on the day of the fair.

Further corroboration might be given, if it were desirable. Sometimes it is a “blue stone,” or a stone pillar, where the concourse of traders gathered. At North Thoresby, in Lincolnshire, the fair was held near a “blue stone” in a meadow near the church called Boundcroft—a significant name.