his caer or dun must also be without competing
authority surrounded by his own vassals. Consequently, in Cornwall, churches are, as a rule, away
from the towns, which latter have grown up about the
chieftain's residence, except in such instances as
Padstow and Bodmin, where a religious, monastic
settlement formed the nucleus. Camelford, an old
borough town, is over two miles from its parish
church, Lanteglos, without even a chapel-of-ease in it,
an ecclesiastical scandal in the diocese. Callington,
the old capital of the municipality of Galewig, is
three miles from its church of Southill.
The church of Launceston has grown up out of a small chapel erected for the convenience of those who lived about the castle walls, hangers-on upon the garrison.
The Norman baron, and perhaps the Saxon eorlderman, liked to have his chaplain forming part of his household, and much at his disposal to say mass and sing matins in a chapel to which he could go without inconvenience, forming part of his residence. But such an arrangement was alien to Celtic ideas. Among the Celts the saint stood on an entirely independent footing over against the secular chief, and was in no way subordinate to him. The chaplain of the Norman might hesitate about reprimanding too sharply the noble who supplied him with his bread-and-butter. But the Celtic saint had no scruples of that sort. If a chief had carried off a widow's cow, or had snatched a pretty wench from her parents, the saint seized his staff and went to the dun and demanded admittance.
