Byways in British Archaeology

Orientation, as the word is commonly understood nowadays, may be described as the principle, and practice, according to which a sacred building or other object is set in an East-to-West line. In speaking of a Christian church, there is implied further that the altar is normally placed at the Eastern end of the building. The word “orientate,” it is hardly necessary to say, comes primarily from the Latin oriri, to rise, the reference being, of course, to the sun. To get one’s bearings with respect to the East was therefore naturally called “orientation.” There is a more general signification when the word is employed scientifically: thus, the crystals in a mass of rock may be orientated, and not necessarily to the East. There is also a broader usage of the term, mostly of literary interest, which merely conveys the sense of determination of one’s position, physically or mentally, so that even theories and opinions may be orientated, honestly or disingenuously, by their advocates. Under this definition, moreover, a building may be orientated, and yet the chief part need not face the geographical East. But it has been conjectured that there was also a Mediaeval Latin word, orientare, which specifically meant “to set towards the East,” and thus arose the fuller and more precise connotation familiar to the modern antiquary[483]. From the Mediaeval term we get our verb “to orientate,” which, like the briefer and more usual term, “to orient,” implies the setting out of a church East to West, with the altar towards the East of the edifice.

The most heedless observer must have noticed the main facts. The choir or chancel of a cathedral or parish church faces East, while the nave runs towards the West. The exceptions form a trifling minority. Casting about for an explanation of these exceptions, it will be found that the buildings which infringe the rule are usually modern, or that the exigencies of space permitted no alternative, or that there has been a spirit of opposition manifested of set purpose. Let us first notice a few examples where the rule is broken. The small, modern church of Well, Lincolnshire, is indeed built East and West, but the altar is situated at the West end. Eastville church, in the same county, runs North and South, its altar being towards the South[484]. St Mary Major, Exeter, which lies to the West of the cathedral, is alined North-East and South-West, but the alteration was probably made in 1866, when the church was rebuilt. The original building was of Norman date[485], and would scarcely be out of line. St Paul’s, Covent Garden, built by Inigo Jones in 1633, and rebuilt at the close of the eighteenth century, has its axis about 30° North of the East-to-West line, but the altar stands at what must be called the “East” end of the church. St John’s, Chatham, another church which transgresses the principle, was erected in the years immediately preceding the Oxford Movement, at a time when the practice of orientation had grown lax[486].

Several Georgian churches in the Paddington and Marylebone districts are out of line, while, strange to tell, a Primitive Methodist Chapel in Seymour Place, hard by, is properly orientated[487]. The fact is noticeable, since the custom is not widely observed by Nonconformists. Camden church, Peckham, is built askew, but that is doubtless owing to its founders having consisted of a coalition of Nonconformists and dissatisfied churchmen from the mother parish of Camberwell. In the Georgian era, as is well known, there was general slackness: fonts were often placed in the North and South aisles, ornaments were neglected, brasses stolen, documents mislaid and misused. To this period of slovenly treatment can be traced the anomalous alinement of St George’s, Bloomsbury. The Eastern recess having proved too small to receive an altarpiece which had been presented by the Duke of Bedford, the main axis of the church was, as it were, turned through an angle of 90°, and it is now arranged almost North and South, the original chancel being represented by a baptistery[488].

Other churches which do not conform to the usual plan are St Edmund the King, Lombard Street, and Immanuel church, Streatham Common (altar at Western end). A number of French examples might also be given, but even were it possible to compile an exhaustive list, it would only weary the reader.

Roman Catholic churches are sometimes found to have unorthodox alinements, but not so generally as is commonly believed. Frequently, the so-called lack of orientation simply means that the position of the altar is reversed. Thus, St George’s Cathedral, in Westminster, like St Peter’s at Rome, has its altar at the West end. But since the axis in these cases, as in that of the little Anglican church at Well, previously mentioned, lies East and West, I prefer to consider these churches as not fundamentally violating the rule. To this matter we must presently return. It has been asserted, and afterwards stoutly denied, that disregard of orientation, with respect to the Eastern altar, is a feature of the churches of the Jesuits[489].

A goodly number of modern churches owe their incorrect alinements to the limitations of shape, slope, and area of the ground on which the buildings are placed. Thus, while the old parish church of Hornsey, Middlesex, stands correctly, the new building is sadly discordant. This variation is caused by a corresponding difference in the long axis of the rectangular plot on which it is built. The axis of the Roman Catholic church of the English Martyrs at Streatham, again, is in marked disagreement with that of the Anglican parish church hard by; a glance at the manner in which the former edifice is wedged in seems to supply the reason. Whether the North-to-South line of the Church of the Oratory, Brompton, is to be so explained, is more uncertain. Of ancient English buildings which do not orientate, the classic example is found at the Cistercian Abbey of Rievaulx, Yorkshire. A steep bank on the one side of the church, and a river on the other, necessitated an axis from North to South.

Then we have to deal with churches designedly mis-built. The Puritan Sir Walter Mildmay, founder of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, built the original College chapel North and South, as a protest against superstition, and in marked derogation of catholic usage (A.D. 1584). This action led Evelyn to speak of “that zealous house” which was “reformed ab origine[490].” The Cambridge example is serviceable as showing the approximate date when early tradition began to be defied.

To-day, except through pure carelessness on the part of architects or builders, the Church observes the broad rule, both with respect to the axis and the Eastward altar. One or two critical instances will render this evident. When, in India, under the first Bishop of Calcutta, Dr Middleton (A.D. 1814-22), the question arose whether the chancel of a church should not face the city of Jerusalem, it was decided to build towards the East, and leave the sacred city out of account[491]. Again, it was mooted, a few years ago, whether churches situated in, and West of, the diocese of Honolulu in the Sandwich Islands (157° 53´ W.), should not have occidentation, rather than orientation, and the verdict was that the chancel should point to the rising sun[492]. Someone has remarked, in this connection, that in crossing to another hemisphere, the Northern and Southern points may be said to change values[493], but this does not affect the question of orientating from a given place on a fixed meridian. Moreover, since Honolulu lies 21° North of the Equator, it is outside this consideration altogether.

Although, as just stated, the modern builder follows the rule, he appears to lack precision in his methods. This opinion has been expressed in private letters to the writer from such high authorities as Professor Reginald Blomfield, Mr H. Phillips Fletcher, and Mr P. Mainwaring Johnston. Mr Johnston says that even in the matter of inserting the points of the compass on architectural drawings there is greater laxity than was formerly the case. The builder seems often to rely on a small portable compass, which frequently is not corrected for the variation of the needle.

By way of parenthesis, it may be noted that the lodges of Freemasons were formerly orientated, and, although the rule is not always now followed in towns, where meeting places are numerous, yet the house of assembly is still called Orient, and, in the case of a grand lodge, Grand Orient. The explanation is that the Freemasons claimed to be descended from the old ecclesiastical builders[494]. From the annals of Freemasonry we can also gather valuable information concerning the alinement of churches. In some of the Scotch lodges, there are said to exist documents which describe the actual method pursued. The site of the altar having been decided upon, a pole was thrust into the ground, and a day appointed for the building to be commenced. “On the evening previous, the Patrons, Ecclesiastics, and Masons assembled, and spent the night in devotional exercises: one being placed to watch the rising of the sun, gave notice when his rays appeared above the horizon. When fully in view, the Master Mason sent out a man with a rod, which he ranged in line between the altar and the sun, and thus fixed the line of orientation[495].”

“He rose, and straight—as by divine command, They, who had waited for that sign to trace Their work’s foundation, gave with careful hand To the high Altar its determined place; Mindful of Him, who in the Orient born, There liv’d, and on the Cross His life resign’d, And who, from out the regions of the morn Issuing in pomp, shall come to judge mankind[496].”

Having seen that, in our day, the custom agrees faithfully with a formulated tradition, we will go back, and, pursuing the link-to-link method, strive to ascertain the origin of the idea. There existed a sound tradition in A.D. 1584, for, as already stated, Sir Walter Mildmay deliberately broke with it. A French example will help to carry us on our way. During the fourteenth century the church of Saint-Benoît, in Paris, had its grand altar turned towards the West, and hence bore the nickname of Saint-Benoît-mal-Tourné, i.e. “Sanctus Benedictus male versus.” The church was rebuilt during the reign of Francis I. (A.D. 1515-47), when the altar was made to face East. The name, says M. L’Abbé Migne, was consequently changed to Saint-Benoît-le-Bétourné, which the narrator claims as the equivalent of “Bene versus[497].” It has been questioned whether bétourné does not really mean mal-tourné[498], but the point to be noticed is, that orientation, in the fuller sense, was recognized in the early sixteenth century, and that even in the fourteenth, a true alinement was observed, though the altar was placed at the wrong end. M. L’Abbé Migne, indeed, asserts that orientation in France is known to date from the eleventh century at least[499]. Yet, in modern times, the French practice has become very uncertain, and numerous instances might be given of North-to-South alinements.

William Durand, commonly known under his Latinized name, Durandus, who was born in Provence, in A.D. 1237, has some interesting remarks on orientation. Following St Isidore, he connects the word temple with contemplate, a kinship which recent lexicographers do not discountenance. While “contemplating,” the worshippers must look towards the East, and Durandus lays down the rule that the exact position should be determined at the equinox. This would ensure that the sections of the building to the right and left of the true East-and-West line should be equal. Thus would the Church Militant show that she behaved herself with moderation, a virtue not symbolized when the median line is taken at the solstice[500].

Dr Daniel Rock asserts that the Saxons built their churches East-and-West, and numerous instances might readily be given to substantiate his statement. A specific example is cited by Dr Rock himself. Wolstan, monk of Winchester (A.D. 990), speaks of a church built by Bishop St Ethelwold (b. A.D. 908, d. 984) as pointing to the East. Like Durandus, Dr Rock favoured the equinoctial East, and urged that, in cases where the site was unfavourable, the East-and-West line should be approached as nearly as possible. The chancel should face South-East rather than North-West, assuming that the axis must run in that line[501]. This principle was formerly undoubtedly considered binding. Brand, quoting from a history of Birmingham, tells how St Bartholomew’s chapel, in that city, “veres toward the North,” because the ground space would admit of no other position. In planning St John’s chapel, Deritend, Birmingham, the architect was so anxious to catch the Eastern point, that he lost the line of the street, hence the writer humorously adds that the designer sacrificed to the East[502]. Another instance of an attempt to keep in harmony with Mediaeval teaching, is seen at Hornsey new church (p. 207 supra), which has its chancel at the Southern end, in preference to the Northern.

Granting that the Saxon churches show orientation, we are led to suppose that the idea goes back still earlier, and this is confirmed by facts. In the “Apostolical Constitutions,” a document dating probably from the latter part of the fourth century, it is ordained that the churches are to be built oblong, with the head to the East, and the congregation is directed to pray Eastward[503]. So early as A.D. 472, there was a tradition that the Apostles turned towards the East in prayer[504]. Leo I., in A.D. 443, is found condemning the people for bowing to the rising sun as they stood on the steps in the Court of St Peter’s[505]. St Basil, who flourished in the middle of the fourth century A.D., alludes distinctly to the custom of turning towards the East in prayer[506]. Several early writers might be quoted for corroborative testimony on this point. The fourth Provincial Council of Milan (A.D. 1576), speaks of the practice of orientating churches as being usual and in accordance with tradition (antiquus mos et probata traditio)[507]. Thus there is cumulative evidence, fairly satisfactory in character, of deference paid to the Eastern position, practically from the time when the Christians began to build their own churches[508].

Certain pronouncements to the contrary, which, if accepted, are calculated to weaken the force of these arguments, and to modify our views on the general question of orientation, must not be withheld. For example, Walcott asserts that orientation has never been a law of the Church, and that it has probably an Eastern origin. He also points out that, in Rome, the entrance to a Christian place of worship was frequently at the East, and that the priest at the altar faced the people[509]. The Romano-British church discovered at Silchester (see p. 23 supra) must be noted as an instance of this kind of ground plan. This “basilica,” as proved by the foundations, had a Western apse, and presumably, therefore, a Western altar, the entrance being towards the East. Fergusson, in his Illustrated Handbook of Architecture, affirms that orientation is wholly a peculiarity of Northern or Gothic races, and that the Italians never knew or practised the custom; it is found only where the inhabitants of an Italian district had been largely superseded by Gothic peoples[510]. Professor Baldwin Brown, again, asserts that “the Church of early times generally, and the Church of Rome throughout,” were indifferent to the practice of orientation. A fourth writer, whose opinion carries great weight, Professor E. B. Tylor, deals with Jewish influence, and concludes that it was scarcely effective in establishing the principle of orientation in the course of European history.

He is rather of opinion that the rise of the Christian custom is sufficiently accounted for by Asiatic sun-worshippers, such as the Persians. The rite of orientation, he considers, was unknown to primitive Christianity, and was developed within its first four centuries[511].

Let us examine these statements. That orientation has never been a law of the Church may be literally true. I can find no such obligation recorded in works like Sir R. Phillimore’s Ecclesiastical Law. Yet Dr Rock refers to an authority, “one deeply read in liturgical lore,”—Bellotte, who pronounced him guilty of mortal sin who wilfully built a church which was not directed towards the East[512]. Again, Mgr Barbier de Montault, while regretting that the canonists no longer make orientation rigorously compulsory, observes that the rule, all the same, remains prescribed in the rubric of the Missal (“qui n’en reste pas moins inscrite dans la rubrique du Missel”)[513]. Above this, the evidence already adduced shows that the rule has had a very general acceptation in England since the Saxon period at least.

The churches of Rome, and indeed, of Italy as a whole, are admittedly irregular in their adherence to strict orientation. Yet even these churches largely conform to the principle, in its wider sense of East-to-West alinement. Very frequently, however, the second, and perhaps almost equally important part of the principle is ignored, that is, the altar is placed at the Western end, instead of at the Eastern. St Peter’s itself supplies a good example of this arrangement; other instances are found in St John Lateran, San Paolo fuori le Mura, and Sta Maria Maggiore. In these churches, now often called basilicas, the entrance is at the East, and the sanctuary at the West[514]. Out of fifty early churches in Rome examined by Mr G. G. Scott, forty were found to have the sanctuary at the West; of the remaining examples, “there are only seven which appear to have retained their original form and which have an Eastern sanctuary[515].” Of the forty churches just mentioned, as of some later ones, it must be noted that the alinement is by no means true East-to-West, hence the epigram of the French wit: “Tout système d’orientation peut trouver son modèle à Rome.”

To leave the matter here would nevertheless convey a false impression. It is credibly asserted that, in the cases where the altar is at the Western extremity, the celebrant faces the East, thus taking the same relative position personally as when, under a reverse arrangement, he turns his back on the congregation[516]. If, then, the axis of the church be situated East-to-West, and if the prayers be offered towards the East, orientation cannot be truly said to be neglected: the relative dispositions of portico and altar become secondary considerations.

Dr Rock, with a manifest anxiety to reconcile the diversity of practice in Rome, submitted, as an explanation, that isolated basilicas (= Christian churches) grew up over narrow, lonely pagan grottos, or the graves of martyrs, or sprang out of the halls of patrician converts[517]. That many of the anomalous alinements may be thus accounted for is probable, but too much must not be made of this method of harmonizing contradictions. Other writers, like Fergusson, have urged that the church was a basilica, or court of justice adapted to Christian worship. The word “basilica,” by the way, is said not to have been used by writers or architects of Byzantine times[518]—a significant detail, if correct (cf. p. 151 supra). For it is contended that there is, in Rome, no well-authenticated instance of the conversion of any pagan forensic basilica into a Christian church, though there are abundant examples of pagan temples which became Christian sanctuaries[519]. The actual secular basilicas would generally be still required, and still employed, century after century, for the transaction of legal business; the heathen temples, now useless for their original purpose, would be adapted and consecrated by the teachers of the new faith. The Christians most likely copied the basilican type of building for their meeting-places because it offered the simplest and most economical plan of accommodating an immense body of worshippers[520].

An attempt has been made to evolve order out of chaos by supposing that, during the early days of the Church, in some parts of the Empire, the priest stood on the Western side of the altar, namely, the side remote from the people, and that, during the celebrations, he looked towards the East, over the heads of the worshippers. The body of the church thus lay to the East of the sanctuary, and the altar was interposed between priest and congregation. At a later date, for some unassigned reason, the priest changed his position with respect to the altar, and stood with his back to the people, hence the ground-plan of the building was modified, so that the main entrance was fixed at the West, and the sanctuary at the East[521]. Thus the Eastward position of the priest was the essential feature, not the position of the altar in the church.

Fergusson’s dictum concerning the churches of Italy, however, need not be accepted without demur. It has been endorsed by writers like Sir E. Beckett (Lord Grimthorpe)[522], but is considered by others to involve overstatement. Fergusson himself admits that, while it is only by accident that we find the rule observed in Pisa, Bologna, and Ferrara, yet in more Northerly (“German”) cities like Milan and Verona, the orientation will be found correct nine times out of ten[523]. He accounts for the absence of orientation in the three first-named cities by supposing that in them the original population was not submerged by “Gothic races.” Whatever may be the precise meaning which Fergusson attaches to this phrase is of little moment, for it is fairly certain, as we shall soon see, that the principle was put into practice by peoples to whom the term could by no licence be applied. Therefore, at any rate, the custom was not, as he believes, wholly a feature of the Gothic builders. Let us recall the fact that seven out of fifty early churches in Rome are carefully oriented. Link this with the fact that many other ancient churches in that city are more or less accurately alined, and the conclusion is clear that the direction of the median line was rarely left to chance. This verdict is confirmed by an examination of early Romanesque churches elsewhere. In Auvergne, for instance, the present writer ascertained, by a careful use of the compass, that oriented churches were very common, yet Gothic influence has not, even in our day, penetrated that region to any considerable extent.

Professor Tylor’s opinion that the Jews exercised little influence on the development of the custom among the early Christians, claims great respect and attention, because of the high authority which he deservedly possesses. Yet it may be doubted whether he has not under-estimated Jewish influences, and over-estimated the effects of Jewish contact with the Persians and other peoples living East of Palestine. In the first place, one is led to conclude that Professor Tylor’s argument is somewhat weakened by the stress which is laid upon the differences of position adopted in prayer, with respect to the sun. The Brahmans, we are told, pray towards the East, the Thugs towards the West. In the first case, the symbolism represents hope, the birth of life, the glory of the rising sun; in the antithesis of the second, the gloom and horror of death, typified by the departure of the life-giver. These distinctions, though not trivial in themselves, and even less so in their later developments, seem to be largely obliterated by the very existence of adoration performed sunwards. The essence of orientation, in its early stages, appears, if one may so express it, to consist in respect paid to the sun. This deference is proved by the East-and-West axial line, as exemplified in primitive temples and monuments. Where the altar was at the Western end, the sun’s rays fell on the sacred object through the Eastern doors at sunrise. As the centuries pass by, we still find rival opinions as to the proper positions for the altar or other sacred object.

Now do we not find noticeable traces of the solar idea in the Hebrew Scriptures, with a certain tendency, moreover, to the adoption of the Eastern rather than the Western position? The Tabernacle of Moses and the Temple of Solomon had their entrances towards the East, and in each building the Holy of Holies was at the West. There was also an Eastern porch to Herod’s Temple[524]. The student of the Bible and the Apocrypha will be familiar with numerous passages, which, without any wresting from the context, appear to contain the germ of the idea of orientation[525], displayed in respect paid to prayer at sunrise. In the Wisdom of Solomon, xvi. 28, these words occur, “We must prevent the sun to give thee thanks, and at the dayspring pray to thee.” Language of a very similar kind is found in more than one of the Psalms. It is undeniable that repeated attempts were made by the monotheistic Hebrews to prevent adoration of the sun. The practice is implicitly forbidden in the Second Commandment, and expressly in such passages as Deut. iv. 19. Why should these prohibitions have been necessary, unless the Jews were prone, in this matter as in some others, either to copy pagan rites, or to follow primal instincts inherited from forefathers among whom solar worship was common? Ezekiel was horror-stricken at the sight of the five-and-twenty men who worshipped the sun with their backs toward the Temple and their faces toward the East[526].

Josiah found it necessary to put down the idolatrous priests, whom the kings of Judah had ordained to burn incense to Baal, and to the sun, moon, and planets; the “chariots of the sun” he burned with fire[527]. The attention paid to direction in offering one’s prayers is illustrated again by the case of Daniel. Domiciled in a heathen land, he prayed with his face towards Jerusalem, although that city lies West, and not East, of Babylon[528]. To look again toward the Holy Temple was the prayer uttered by Jonah when in the belly of the fish[529]. In short, prayer offered towards Jerusalem was actually recommended, if not stipulated, by Solomon, as a condition of success in warfare[530]. The Jews, in later times, seem always to have been zealous in obeying the precept, though it is not recorded that they carry a compass with them for the purpose, as the Mohammedans are said to do[531].

The Book of Job contains a remarkable and enlightening passage concerning sun-worship. Protesting his integrity, the patriarch says: “If I beheld the sun when it shined, or the moon walking in brightness; And my heart hath been secretly enticed, or my mouth hath kissed my hand: This also were an iniquity to be punished by the judge[532].” Now, the ancient Greeks used to kiss their hands as an act of worship to the sun, and Tertullian had to complain that even Christians would move their lips toward the sunrise, as if affecting adoration[533]. Grimm says that Teutonic peoples would swear an oath by the sun, stretching out their hands to the all-seeing god[534].

A moment’s pause may be made to notice a remarkable parallel, suggested by Barclay. On the one side, we have the stretching out vertically of the separated fingers. On the other, as Barclay observes, we have the five large trilithons of the outer “horsehoe” of Stonehenge, graduated so that the central one corresponds to the middle finger of the hand, and the other trilithons to the other fingers, each to each. Similarly, if the fingers are brought together so as to form a circle, we get the symbol employed in the sacred salute to the sun[535]. Barclay’s comparisons may be fanciful, but who shall deny their aptness? We cannot forget the symbolism adopted in the Greek and Latin churches when the Benediction is pronounced. Even a temporary assent to Barclay’s hypothesis leads us to ask further, Whence came the custom of shading the face with the hands when the worshipper is engaged in prayer? Did the habit originate in protecting the eyes from the sun during the act of supplication?

But to return: we have seen that sun-worship, and prayer offered towards the East, or towards a hallowed site, are abundantly illustrated in the Old Testament. Again, if the Jews did not practise orientation in our specific sense of the word, they observed an East-to-West system in planning their chief place of worship. The older generations of Jews, at least, could not have been ignorant of orientation. As bondmen in Egypt, they must have become acquainted with the principle. In Canaan, they were subjected, as Professor Tylor states, to the influences of solar worship on all sides. Their heathen neighbours, the Phoenicians, bowed themselves to Baal, the Ammonites offered sacrifices to Molech, and the Syrians worshipped the god Hadad[536].

If the probabilities favour a knowledge of the idea of orientation among the Jews of the Old Testament times, reason must be shown for the assumption of a complete break between the ancient practice and the customs of the Apostolic period. For primitive Christianity was not only in great measure developed from, but was a fulfilment of, the older Judaism. The “Sun of Righteousness” in Malachi has its counterpart in the “Day spring from on high” of St Luke, the “Day star” of the Second Epistle of Peter, and the “Morning star” of the Apocalypse[537]. The “Light of the World,” or some variant of the phrase, occurs again and again. While, therefore, it would be folly to force these figurative expressions too far, it would equally be a mistake to overlook them. There is a possibility, then, of an early Christian as well as a Hebraic groundwork for subsequent developments of orientation. Perhaps the lesson was soon reinforced by Christian contact with converts from paganism, for, as already shown, we do not get far into the Christian era before we meet with oriented churches and the custom of praying towards the East. During the rite of baptism, too, as we learn from St Jerome, the candidate turned towards the West to renounce the devil, and then faced East to confess allegiance to Christ[538].

This specific inquiry may now be dropped, yet a brief survey of religions and races other than the Jewish will not only elucidate the subject generally, but will cast a light back on the question which we are leaving. We are informed, on good authority, that, in the Holy Eastern Church, orientation is “universal through Asia as well as Europe[539].” Again, with respect to the ancient Coptic churches of Egypt, it is asserted by Butler that the entrance is “almost invariably towards, if not in, the Western side, while the sanctuaries lie always on the Eastern[540].” This authority suggests that the early Christians may have derived the practice of orientation from Egypt. The ancient Egyptian temples afford wide scope for discussion. Sir J. Norman Lockyer and other workers have arranged these temples in groups according to their orientation. One temple, at Karnak, is said to be so planned that it acts as a gigantic telescope which allows a two minutes’ flash at the summer solstice, when the building is found to be accurately oriented[541]. Other temples are so alined that, on the anniversary of the dedication, the rays of the sun fall on the innermost sanctuary, and light up the statues placed therein. The sanctuaries, it should be explained, are situated at the Western end, so that the sun’s beams would shine through the Eastern entrance. Other groups of structures may, perhaps, exhibit “orientation” to Sirius, Spica, Capella, and so on[542].

The evidence goes to show that considerable nicety of observation was required to get the true axis; probably this was done either by watching the shadow cast by a vertical object when the sun was on the meridian, by stretching a cord between two stakes, carefully alined, or by keeping a standard line constantly directed towards the North Pole of the heavens. It has just been stated that Egyptian temples are sources of much controversy, and it would be unwise to attempt further to make clear one complicated question by introducing another fully as perplexing. Merely observing, then, that Sir Norman Lockyer has submitted evidence to show that the orientation of Egyptian temples influenced the temples of Greece, a country which he believes to represent a transitional stage of the custom[543], we again turn our attention to English churches.

The first obvious fact to demand notice is that few of our churches face the true equinoctial East. Over sixty years ago a series of Norfolk churches was examined, when it was found that, at West Beckham, the axis was due East; at St Peter’s, Bampton, so much as 20° North of East; and in a number of other examples the discrepancies varied from 5° to 8°[544]. In 1856, a paper was read by the Rev. W. Airy, in which he stated that, among churches which he had inspected, there were hundreds deviating between 5° and 10° from the true East, six or seven diverged above 20°, and one more than 30°[545]. The late Mr T. W. Shore, whose knowledge of Hampshire was very comprehensive and thorough, found that a line about 20° North of East was favoured in that county, about seventy churches having this inclination[546]. If, then, we assume, for the moment, that the orientation was taken from the rising sun on the day when the building was commenced, the Hampshire figures would indicate that operations were usually begun either about a month after the vernal equinox or a month before the autumnal equinox. This conclusion must not be finally accepted without inquiry. From an old map known as John Leake’s Exact Surveigh (1667), it has been found that hardly any two city churches then existing agreed in their axes, nor with the true East-to-West line. Such is the assertion made in Smith’s Old Topography of London, but I doubt whether the map, which one may see in the Library of the British Museum, will bear the strictest tests.

The authority just cited affirms that he made minute measurements for his plan of Westminster and discovered that even such close neighbours as Westminster Abbey, St Margaret’s, and St Catherine’s in the Little Cloister, vary many points from each other[547]. Sir Henry Chauncy had noticed similar variations in Hertfordshire at the close of the sixteenth century, and had explained them on the theory of seasonal alinement just given[548]. It is needless to adduce further examples: let the student take a carefully adjusted compass, and test a number of churches for himself. Like the present writer, he will find that he rarely meets with a chancel which faces exactly East.

If we scan the pages of works on ecclesiology and symbolism we shall find hypotheses regarding orientation in great abundance. Whether or not the Christian practice came directly from Jewish antecedents, concerning which question, as we have seen, there is a doubt, its ultimate origin must be sought among pagan peoples. Yet the old authors were mainly unaware of these beginnings, and they, like the common folk, were driven to invent secondary explanations. And it may well be that the subsidiary beliefs were, at certain periods, fully effective—that builders did orient churches for this or that symbolical reason, unconscious meanwhile of a deeper cause which lay behind, rooted in past heathenism and strengthened by long prescription.

As we follow the tortuous threads of Mediaeval and later traditions, it becomes plain that some of the clues may be dropped as valueless. Thus, because the Tabernacle and the Temple had each the Holy Place towards the West, and because the Jews turned their faces thitherward in prayer, some writers have ingeniously supposed that the early Christians adopted the opposite arrangement, in order to mark the advent of the new Gospel. In like manner, urge these writers, the Day of Rest was changed from the seventh to the first day of the week[549]. This hypothesis respecting orientation, born in the study of the mystic, is too whimsical and lacking in proof to be seriously considered.