Strangest of all the warrior superstitions was that exemplified in the ceremony of offering food to weapons. The custom, which is plainly traceable to pagan ideas of worship, continued without interruption, we are assured, until the reign of Elizabeth. One instance must suffice. Sir Howel-y-Furyall, known to his fellows as “Sir Howel of the Battle-axe,” a weapon which he wielded bravely at Poitiers, ordained that his axe should be hung up in the Tower of London, and a “messe of meat” served before it daily. The injunction was obeyed, and each day, after the rite had been completed, the food was distributed to beggars[705].
Arms and food do not, however, complete our list of serviceable gifts to the dead. Among implements of this nature must be reckoned divers kinds of fire-producers. Excavations have shown that flint and iron pyrites were occasionally concealed in round barrows, while, in the mounds of later periods, a piece of iron replaced the customary mineral nodule. These ignition agents, the forerunners of our “strike-a-lights” and tinder boxes, are found so late as the Saxon period. Certain small “nests” of chipped flints occurring in Merovingian, Frankish, and Saxon sepulchres, are also believed by some authorities to have been intended for fire-kindlers[706], by means of which the departed spirit could be provided with cheerful warmth. To the present writer this theory is not entirely satisfactory, at least as regards the later developments of the practice. The cases just cited seem to be analogous to those described by Pitt-Rivers, who repeatedly found, in British barrows, urns filled with chips of flint[707]. In a notable barrow at Winkelbury Hill, on a Northern spur of the Wiltshire Downs, not only was the urn packed with flakes, but it was surrounded by a mass of similar objects[708]. Besides the flakes placed in the cist or urn itself, we have to take into account the very common occurrence of flint spalls in the body of the mound, a sight familiar to the barrow-digger. The number of chips is often out of all proportion to what might be incidentally brought together in piling up the substance of the mound from the surface soil. They were evidently struck off for the particular occasion. Now, although the germ of the ceremony may be discoverable in the burial of a trimmed flint and a lump of iron pyrites, there is no manifest virtue in the multiplication of the chips. Each tribesman may indeed have thrown in his tributary flint, or perhaps a handful of small flakes, but the intention would scarcely be to increase the opportunities of procuring fire. Rather do the chips seem to represent some esoteric doctrine, such as that which was held by the primitive Lapps. Hidden in the flint lies the spark, the emblem of life and animation, ready to burst forth. The scattered flakes of flint were therefore probably the proofs, not alone of dutiful respect, but of a strong faith that the dead man was merely asleep, that his spirit would return. Pliny’s Natural History has been credited with the statement that Northern peoples used to throw flint chippings into graves in order to confine the dead within those dark dominions. Pliny does, indeed, describe certain stones that consume dead bodies, and other kinds that have the power to preserve the corpse, and to turn it into stone[709]. But the reference to the flint flakes, as commonly given, is bibliographically incorrect, and, although the passage may exist, I have not been successful in finding it. Except for the sake of the reason assigned to the custom, the passage is unimportant, since we possess actual relics as a testimony of the practice. What is of more interest is the fact that we have a reference to the custom as apparently existing in Shakespeare’s day. When Ophelia is about to be buried, the surly priest makes complaint:
“She should in ground unsanctified have lodged
Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers,
Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her[710].”
From this passage it seems clear that a ceremony, which, if I interpret it aright, was originally indicative of respect, had degenerated into a mark of disgrace. The potsherds and flint chips were known to be a mark of heathen burial, and were therefore reprobated by Christians, without any inquiry as to their purport. There is an alternative explanation: the idea of laying the evil spirit, so that it should not wander abroad and annoy the living, may at some time have been operative. If this assumption be well founded, it might be urged that the priest had caught an echo of the superstition, and actually believed that the ghost of a suicide might return. The usual annotation of the lines, to the effect that Ophelia is worthy only of pagan burial, comes a little short of the whole truth, and one of these ideas—respect or fear—is required to round off the meaning. In support of this view, the case of the Czechs is apposite. When returning from a funeral, it is the custom of this folk to throw stones, mud, and hot coals in the direction of the grave to deter the spirit from following the burial party[711]. Again, the purpose of wearing mourning is believed to have arisen from attempts to disguise the person, so that pursuit by the dead may be evaded; or, as Mr E. S. Hartland contends, the intention was to express sorrow and abasement, so as to deprecate the malice of the disembodied spirit[712]. Yet, in spite of these by-theories, one is led to believe that the earlier intention of the funeral flints was to express honour and respect, though the feeling may have been tinged with wholesome fear. To this extent the theory of ancestor-worship, as opposed to that of animism, receives some confirmation.
A passage occurring in Herodotus has been noted as throwing some light on the custom, while not affording an actual explanation. The writer is describing the ceremony of purification observed after funerals by the Scythians in Europe. A cavity was made, or a dish was placed in the middle of a specially constructed tent. Into this hollow they threw stones heated to a transparent brightness (λίθους ἐκ πυρὸς διαφανέας ἐσβάλλουσι ἐς σκάφην)[713]. This description, however, does not really apply to the rite which we are considering, for Herodotus goes on to say that hemp-seed is put on the red-hot stones. The intention was to prepare a kind of vapour bath, and also probably to induce intoxication[714]. In other words, the heated stones seem to have been our familiar “pot-boilers,” common on all prehistoric camping-grounds, and capable of a purely industrial explanation, though often applied to a ceremonial purpose.
Returning to the shards alluded to by the priest at Ophelia’s grave, we note, as an illustration, that Pitt-Rivers found considerable quantities of broken pottery in the Romano-British graves of Dorset and Wiltshire. A remarkable coincidence must now be mentioned. Douglas, writing his Nenia Britannica in 1793, had noticed that pebbles and fragments of pottery were often mixed with the earth which had been scattered over the corpses in Saxon graves. The shards were generally of more ancient date than the interment[715]. Douglas had lighted upon the passage in Hamlet, already quoted, and had connected it with the superstitious Saxon practice. Over half a century later, Mr W. M. Wylie, who was exploring Saxon graves at Fairford, in Gloucestershire, came upon quantities of similar burial shards. The vessels which had furnished the fragments had not been newly broken for the occasion, since the pieces did not correspond, but had been previously collected and kept in readiness. Along with these potsherds were found pebbles that had been fired, as well as scoriae from iron smeltings, obtained perhaps from the neighbourhood of Cirencester, not far away[716]. After referring to the description of the Scythian custom, which has just been quoted from Herodotus, and after making a half-hearted attempt to connect the Scythians with the Northern Teutons, Wylie cites the now-famous lines from Hamlet. That Wylie should have independently come to the same conclusion as Douglas, and should have called attention to the same Shakespearean allusion, is very noteworthy, for he had never read Douglas’s work[717].
Although we are considering relics which were judged to be of use to the dead, we have transgressed our limits, and have been compelled to glance at the ceremonial aspect. Yet before we can safely return to the main inquiry, we must notice some instances of survival in this matter of potsherds. Numerous records tend to show that the deposition of pieces of earthenware in Christian graves was not an uncommon practice during the Middle Ages. At once, however, we must make a reservation: the scraps of pottery may, to some extent, represent vessels in which charcoal had been deposited, but which afterwards were fractured by the sexton’s spade. For the broken pottery is sometimes, but not always, associated with charcoal, while, as we shall see, the charcoal is often found alone. The Rev. R. Ashington Bullen found traces of the custom at Little Stukeley, Huntingdonshire. At a depth of 4½ feet, graves were found to contain fragments of Mediaeval pottery, possessing a greenish glaze, but no charcoal was discovered[718]. Canon Atkinson states that potsherds were also found near Dunsley chapel, Yorkshire, which was probably demolished prior to the Dissolution of the Monasteries. This capable antiquary, whose eye was well trained for the work, observed charcoal and broken crocks in abundance in the old churchyard graves of Danby-in-Cleveland. The charcoal occurred in lumps of the size of a small bean. Occasionally, out of half a spade-graft of mould brought to the surface, from one-third to one-half would be principally charcoal. Fragments of coarse red pottery, partly glazed on the interior surface, and without doubt of Mediaeval age, were also constantly lighted upon. About a wheelbarrow full of shards was turned up within a quarter of a century, few graves being dug without some scraps being encountered. The charcoal and the pottery were not actually found in contact, nevertheless Canon Atkinson believed that charcoal, in the form of live coals [Qy live charcoal, i.e. “coal” in the older sense?] had been placed in earthen vessels. The reason for this opinion is not given, nor does the hypothesis harmonize with all the related facts. Canon Atkinson, while granting that the idea of purificatory energy may have underlain the custom, stated that collateral evidences showed a desire to keep the spirit in abeyance[719]. These opinions have been dealt with in advance; it remains to be noted that Danby churchyard seems once to have formed part of an open field. “That pagan Danes were laid to their rest there I make no doubt; and that they were the fore-elders of a Christianized generation or series of generations is equally certain[720].” These details, though interesting, are unimportant; the essential matter is that the bulk of the pottery was of Mediaeval date—the narrator allows for exceptions—and must therefore have been employed in Christian times (see p. 287 supra). The practice had possibly a direct lineal descent from the Bronze Age. In one barrow belonging to that period, a deposit of burnt bones was underlain by wood, and was covered with charcoal and wood ashes, probably the remains of the funeral pile[721]. On the other hand, a barrow which was opened by Canon Atkinson contained pieces of charcoal, varying in size from a bean to a nutmeg, scattered through the material of the mound[722]. Other cases might be given from the investigations of Pitt-Rivers. Late Frankish cemeteries have yielded fragments of charcoal[723], and the same may be said of Mediaeval graves in France[724]. The accidentals of cremation ceremonies clearly survived the essentials, and a pagan custom was engrafted on Christian rite. The Mediaeval churchman’s explanation of the charcoal is thus given by Durandus: Carbones in testimonium, quod terra illa ad communes usus amplius redigi non potest, plus enim durat carbo sub terra quam aliud[725]; that is: Charcoal is employed to show that the earth can no longer be put to ordinary uses, because charcoal endures underground longer than any other substance.
Is there any known instance of the actual use of flint flakes at Christian funerals? Research has so far given a negative reply, but a scrap or two of evidence may be produced. Canon Atkinson found flint chippings and even the ruder kinds of implements in the churchyards of Cleveland[726]. The present writer picked up a flint flake from a newly-dug grave at Northolt, Middlesex, and another, a long, thin specimen, with a “back ridge,” at Warlingham churchyard, Surrey. The risks of drawing an inference from such isolated occurrences as these are both numerous and patent. The churchyard was once part of the open country, and these flakes might, perhaps, originally have been derived from the surface soil. Again, chips of a rough kind fall as waste when flint is dressed and squared for church walls. A sufficient knowledge of the properties of modern and ancient flakes enables the observer to dismiss this source of error, though it must be stated that both at Warlingham and Northolt flint forms a portion of the structural materials. Now the two flakes described were not whitened by exposure and dissolution of the colloidal portion of the silica. They had retained their old unpatinated surface, save that a polish had been acquired; one may therefore conclude that they had lain for a considerable period in a close impervious clay or loam. Probably they had been dug from a depth of two or three feet below the surface. The specimens were certainly ancient. Should instances of this nature be recorded with a fair degree of frequency, the meaning might be deciphered in either of two ways: the adaptation of a pagan site for a Christian place of worship, or the casting of flint chips into a Christian grave. Whether the occurrence of quantities of ancient splinters of flint near a churchyard, as at St Paul’s Cray, Kent, must be interpreted in the same manner, is not so clear. I prefer to await further records, which are, from the nature of the case, difficult to procure. The flints are mysterious witnesses, at most, and the sceptic may justly scorn their testimony, if asked to consider these objects alone. But the triad of flints, potsherds, and charcoal, stands moderately firm. Concerning the charcoal, we have fortunately, apart from the relics, the words of Durandus to help us to read the ostensible meaning. But assume that we were unaware of the Mediaeval character of some of the graveyard pottery, who would believe that the custom of interring potsherds was observed at so late a period? The sceptic would say that the scraps represented prehistoric urns accidentally occurring in the churchyard soil. We should be justified in refusing our assent at the outset, but we should have to reconsider the matter when we found that the habit of breaking vessels and utensils over the dead is common among many races[727]. Moreover, there is a record, within the last thirty years, of a Lincolnshire woman’s breaking pottery over her husband’s grave, because she had forgotten to inter the perfect vessels with the body. At present, then, we must allow that there is a possible preliminary case in favour of the flints, if these should be now and again detected.
Let us summarize the last few paragraphs. The original purpose of placing apparently useless potsherds with the dead was to provide the departed tribesman with the spiritual utensils thus represented, the spirit-forms having been liberated by the breaking of the vessels. Similarly, the charcoal, the calcined pebbles or “pot-boilers,” and the few scraps of flint, would supply him with fire, first material, afterwards spiritual. Thus he had the means of making a fire, and of carrying water and hot embers. “Poor indeed,” says Professor T. Rupert Jones, “was the greatest of the heroes, on his dreary death-path, who had not ‘a sherd to take fire from the hearth, or to take water withal out of the pit’ (Isa. xxx. 14)[728].” So far, the theory agrees well with the explanation given respecting votive implements and weapons. Moreover, we can see how the idea of “laying the spirit” with hot stones and fractured flints may have arisen. The homeless ghost would be happy only when fealty had been proved by funeral gifts. Careless or daring folk who neglected to pay the tribute would, in dreams, receive visits from the disembodied dead. Where no affection or respect existed, experience might teach that formal adherence to custom was prudent. The explanation based on actual needs seems only to suffice for those cases where the flint and earthenware gifts are solitary, or at any rate, few, like the celts and arrow-heads. Wherever the flint flakes are counted by scores, and the potsherds, broken, it may be, from vessels made expressly for the sepulchre, are representative of many individual pieces of pottery, the idea involved seems to be, not mere utility, but dutiful respect, tempered, as some will have it, with fear.
It may be submitted that, just as the Bedouin Arabs are wont to set up groups of stones around the burial-place of a fakir, so the chief members of a prehistoric tribe, each carrying his portion, produced the accumulation of flint spalls. True; but this does not support the suggested explanation that the flakes were strike-a-lights. So soon as the multiplication of fire-kindlers—if we assume that the flakes were at first of this nature—reached to the extent of filling an urn or cist, utility must have been the waning, and reverence the waxing principle. The idea that material objects could benefit the dead lingered, it is true, for ages, and in some half-hearted manner persisted, as we shall see, until our own day, but it was ultimately overpowered by the growth of symbolical rites. It remains to notice Pitt-Rivers’ theory that the broken pottery may have been buried to mark the site of a barrow, but how this mode of indication could be effective that cautious and experienced investigator does not suggest. In a boundary tumulus, entombed pottery might be significant, but even there, it could not form a visible memorial.