DEPARTURE OF THE ROMANS.
"He looked and saw wide territory spread
Before him; towns and rural works between,
Cities of men, with lofty gates and towers,
Concourse in arms, fierce forces threatening war--
Assaulting: others, from the wall defend
With dart and javelin, stones and sulphurous fire:
On each hand slaughter and gigantic deeds."
MILTON'S PARADISE LOST, BOOK XI.
The fortified line erected by Agricola was soon broken through by
the northern tribes, and the Emperor Adrian erected a much stronger
barrier, though considerably within the former; and this extended from
the Tyne to the Solway, crossing the whole breadth of that portion of
the island. Urbicus, as if determined that the Romans should not lose
an inch of territory which they had once possessed, restored the more
northern boundary which Adrian had abandoned, and once more stretched
the Roman frontier between the Friths of Clyde and Forth; they thus
possessed two walls, the more northern one, first begun by Agricola,
and the southern one, erected by Adrian. Forts were built at little
more than a mile distant from each other along this line, and a broad
rampart ran within the wall, by which troops could readily march from
one part to another. This outer barrier was the scene where many a hard
contest took place, and in the reign of Commodus it was again broken
down, and the country ravaged up to the very foundations of the wall
of Adrian. This skirmishing and besieging, building up and breaking
down of barriers, lasted for nearly a century, during which period
scarcely a single event transpired in Britain of sufficient importance
to be recorded, though there is every proof that the Britons were,
in the meantime, making rapid strides in civilization; for England
rested securely under the guardianship of the Roman arms. The battles
fought at the northern barriers disturbed not the tranquillity of the
southern parts of the island. It was not until the commencement of
the third century, when old and gouty, and compelled to be borne at
the head of his army in a litter, that the Emperor Severus determined
to conquer the Caledonians, and boldly sallied out for that purpose
beyond the northern frontier. His loss was enormous, and between war
with the natives, and the wearisome labour in making roads, felling
forests, and draining marshes, which had hitherto been impassable to
the Roman troops, fifty thousand soldiers were sacrificed. Nothing
daunted, however, the gouty old emperor still pressed onward, until he
reached the Frith of Moray, and was struck with the difference in the
length of the days, and shortness of the nights, compared with those
in southern latitudes. Saving making a few new roads, and receiving
the submission of the few tribes who chanced to lie in his way, he
appears to have done nothing towards conquering this hardy race; so he
returned to Newcastle, and began to build a stronger barrier than any
of his predecessors had hitherto erected. On the northern side of this
immense wall, he caused a deep ditch to be dug, about thirty-six feet
wide, while the wall itself was twelve feet in height; thus, from the
bottom of the ditch on the northern side there rose a barrier about
twenty-five feet high, which was also further strengthened by a large
number of fortifications, and above three hundred turrets. But before
Severus had well completed his gigantic labours, the Caledonians had
again over-leaped the more northern barrier, and fought their way up to
the new trenches. The grey-headed old hero vowed vengeance, and swore
by "Mars the Red," that he would spare neither age nor sex. Death, who
is sometimes merciful, kindly stepped in, and instead of allowing him
to swing in his litter towards new scenes of slaughter, cut short his
contemplated campaign at York, about the year two hundred and eleven;
and after his death, the northern barrier was again given up to the
Caledonians.
A wearisome time must it have been to those old Roman legions, who had
to keep guard on that long, monotonous wall, which went stretching for
nearly seventy miles over hill and valley; nothing but a desolate
country to look over, or that wide, yawning, melancholy ditch to
peep into from the battlements, or a beacon-fire to light on the top
of the turret, as a signal that the barbarians were approaching. An
occasional skirmish must have been a relief to that weary round of
every-day life, made up in marches from fort to fort, where there
was no variety, saving in a change of sentries--no relief excepting
now and then sallying out for forage; for between the outer and
inner wall, the whole country seems at this period to have been a
wilderness--a silent field of death, in which the bones of many a brave
man were left to bleach in the bleak wind, and from which only the
croak of the raven and the howl of the wolf came upon the long dark
midnights that settled down over those ancient battlements. Sometimes
the bold barbarians sailed round the end of the wall in their wicker
boats, covered with "black bull's hide," and landed within the Roman
intrenchments, or spread consternation amongst the British villages;
but with the exception of an occasional inroad like this, the whole
of the northern part of the island appears to have been quiet for
nearly another century, during which the Roman arms seem to have become
weakened, and the British tribes to have given themselves up more to
the arts of peace than of war. Such privileges as were granted to
the Roman citizens, were also now extended to the Britons; and under
the dominion of Caracalla, the successor of Severus, there is but
little doubt that the southern islanders settled peaceably down in
their homesteads (now comfortable abodes), and began to be somewhat
more Romanized in their manners, that marriages took place between
the Romans and the Britons, and that love and peace had now settled
down side by side, in those very spots which the stormy spirits of
Cassivellaunus, Caractacus, and Boadicea had formerly passed over. The
wheels of the dreaded war-chariots seem to have rested on their axles;
we scarcely meet with the record of a single revolt amongst the native
tribes, excepting those beyond the wall of Adrian. Through the pages
of Gildas we catch glimpses of strange miracles, and see the shadow of
the cross falling over the old druidical altars, but nothing appears
distinct; and although we may doubt many passages in the writings of
this our earliest historian, it would be uncharitable to the memory
of the dead even to entertain a thought that he wilfully falsified a
single fact. The only marvel is, that, living in an age when so few
could write--when only common rumours were floating about him--when he
was surrounded with the faint outlines of old traditions, he should
have piled together so many facts which are borne out by contemporary
history. To place no faith in the narrative of Gildas, is to throw
overboard the writings of the venerable Bede, and float over the sea
of time for many a long year, without a single record to guide us.
Although we have confidence in many of these ancient chronicles of
the undefended dead, we shall pass on to undisputed facts, founded
upon their faint records; for we have scarcely any other light to
guide us through these dark caverns, which the ever-working hand of
slow-consuming Time hath hollowed out.
About the commencement of the fourth century, a new enemy made its
appearance upon the British coast, and though it only at first flitted
about from place to place like a shadow, it at last fixed itself firmly
upon the soil, never again to be wholly obliterated. This was the
Saxon--not at that period the only enemy which beside the Caledonians
invaded Britain, for there were others--Scandinavian pirates, ever
ready with their long ships to dart across the British channel upon
our coast. These invaders were kept at bay for a time by a bold naval
commander called Carausius, supposed himself originally to have been a
pirate, and occasionally to have countenanced the inroads of the enemy;
and on this account, or from the dreaded strength of his powerful
fleet, a command was issued from Rome to put him to death. He, however,
continued for some time to keep the mastery of the British Channel,
defied Rome and all its powers, assumed the chief command over Britain,
and was at last stabbed by the hand of his own confidential minister
at York. Allectus, Constantine, Chlorus, and Constantine the Great,
follow each other in succession, each doing their allotted work, then
fading away into Egyptian darkness, scarcely leaving a record behind
beyond their names; for the eyes of the Roman eagle were now beginning
to wax dim, and a fading light was fast settling down upon the Eternal
city, and gloomy and ominous shadows were ever seen flitting athwart
the golden disc whose rounded glory had so long fallen unclouded
upon the Imperial city. Even in Britain the wall of Severus had been
broken through, a Roman general slain, and London itself pillaged by
these hordes of barbarians. The plunderers were, however, attacked by
Theodosius, the spoils retaken, and the inhabitants, whom they were
driving before them in chains, liberated. These assailants are supposed
to have been mingled bodies of the Picts, Scots, and Saxons, and the
addition of Saxonicus was added to the name of Theodosius, in honour of
this victory.
The Roman soldiers in Britain now began to elect their own generals,
and to shake off their allegiance to the Emperor: one undoubted cause
for so few legions being found in England at this period, and a proof
that that once mighty arm had already grown too weak to strike any
effective blow in the distant territories. Chief amongst those elected
to this high rank in Britain stood Maximus, who might doubtless have
obtained undisputed possession of the British Island, had not his
ambition led him to grasp at that portion of the Roman empire which
was in the possession of Gratian. To accomplish this, he crossed over
to Gaul with nearly all his island force, thus leaving Britain almost
defenceless, and at the mercy of the Picts, and Scots, and Saxons, who
were ever on the look-out for plunder. He attained his object, and
lost his life, having been betrayed and put to death by Theodosius the
Great, under whose sway the eastern and western empire of Rome was
again united. Alaric the Goth was now pouring his armed legions into
Italy, and to meet this overwhelming force, Germany, and Gaul, and
Britain were drained of their troops, and our island again left a prey
to the old invaders, who no doubt reaped another rich harvest; for the
Britons, no longer able to defend themselves against these numerous
hordes of barbarians, were compelled to apply for assistance to Rome.
Probably some time elapsed before the required aid was sent, for we
cannot conceive that Stilicho would part with a single legion until
after he had won the battle of Pollentia, and seen the routed army
of Alaric in full retreat. Such was the penalty Britain paid for her
progress in civilization,--the flower of her youth were carried off to
fight and fall in foreign wars,--and when she most needed the powerful
arms of her native sons to protect her, they were attacking the enemies
of Rome in a distant land, and leaving their own island-home a prey to
new invaders. Nor was this all: when the arms of Rome had grown too
feeble to protect Britain,--when beside their own legions, the country
had been drained of almost every available soldier--when in every
way it was weakened, and scarcely possessed the power to make any
defence, it was deserted by the Romans, left almost prostrate at the
feet of Pictish, Scottish, and Saxon hordes, either to sue for mercy
on the best terms that could be obtained, or to perish, from its very
helplessness. Alas! Rome could no longer defend herself, her glory had
all but departed; and the Britons, who for about two centuries had
never been allowed to defend themselves, and were now almost strangers
to arms, were left to combat a force which many a time had driven back
the Roman legions.
The few Roman troops that yet remained in Britain began to elect and
depose their own commanders at pleasure. They first chose Marcus,
allowed him to rule for a short period, then put him to death. Gratian
was next elevated to power, bowed down to and obeyed for three or
four months, then murdered. Their next choice fell upon Constantine,
influenced, it is said, by his high-sounding name; and it almost
appears, by his carrying over his forces to Gaul, as Maximus had
done before him, and aiming at a wider stretch of territory, that he
scarcely thought Britain worth reigning over. Numbers of the brave
British youth were sacrificed to his ambition; and England seems
at this time to have only been a great nursery for foreign wars.
Gerontius, who appears to have been a British chief, now rose to some
influence, and basely betrayed his countrymen by entering into a league
with the Picts, and Scots, and Saxons, and no doubt sharing the plunder
they took from the wretched Britons; he also appears to have carried an
armed force out of the island, probably raised by means of the bargain
he made with the barbarians; he was pursued into Spain by the troops of
the Roman emperor, Honorius; fled into a house for shelter after the
battle; it was set fire to, and he perished in the flames--a dreadful
death, yet almost merited by such a traitorous act as, first selling
his country to these northern robbers and pirates, carrying off those
who were able to protect her, and then leaving his kindred a prey to
the barbarians. The Britons, in their misery, again applied for help
to Rome: Honorius could render none, so he sent them such a letter as
a cold friend, wearied out by repeated applications, sometimes pens to
a poor, broken-down bankrupt; he could do nothing for them, they must
now assist themselves; he forgave them the allegiance they owed, but
had not a soldier to spare. So were the Britons blessed with a liberty
which was of no use to them; they were left to shift for themselves,
like an old slave, who, instead of being a help, becomes an encumbrance
to his task-master, who, to get rid of him, "God blesses him," and
turns him out a free man, with the privilege to beg, or starve, or
perish, unless in his old helpless age he can provide for himself. Not
that the Roman emperor was so unkind in himself; he would perhaps have
assisted the Britons if he could; he was but one in a long chain of
evils, and that the last, and least powerful, which, by disarming the
Britons, and draining off all their strength to feed other channels,
had reduced them to their present helpless state. True, they had now
temples, and baths, and pillared porticoes, and splendid galleries,
and mosaic pavements, and beautifully shaped earthen-vessels; had some
knowledge of Roman literature, and, above all, Roman freedom. Alas!
alas! their old forest fortresses, and neglected war-chariots, and
rude huts, guarded by the dangerous morass, and quaking bog, would
now have stood them in better stead; their splendid mansions were
but temptations to the barbarians, their broad, firm roads so many
open doors to the robbers. They may not inaptly be compared to some
poor family, left in a large and splendid mansion in some dangerous
neighbourhood, which the owner has deserted, with all his retinue and
wealth, for fear of the thieves and murderers who were ever assailing
him, leaving only behind a book or two for their amusement, a few
useless statues to gaze upon, and but little beside great gaping
galleries, whose very echoes were alarming to the new possessors. Sir
Walter Scott has beautifully said, when speaking of the Romans leaving
the Britons in this defenceless state, that "Their parting exhortation
to them to stand in their own defence, and their affectation of having,
by abandoning the island, restored them to freedom, were as cruel as
it would be to dismiss a domesticated bird or animal to shift for
itself, after having been from its birth fed and supplied by the hand
of man."[1] Strange retribution, that whilst the sun of Rome should
from this period sink never to rise again in its former glory, that of
Britain should slowly emerge from the storm and clouds which threatened
nothing but future darkness, and burst at last into a golden blaze,
whose brightness now gilds the remotest regions of the earth.
But Britain had still a few sons left, worthy of the names which their
brave forefathers bore; the blood of Boadicea still flowed in their
veins; it might have been thinned by the luxury of the Roman bath, and
deadened by long inactivity, but though it only ran sluggishly, it was
still the same as had roused the strong hearts of Cassivellaunus and
Caractacus when the Roman trumpets brayed defiance at the gates of
their forest cities. There was still liberty or death left to struggle
for; the Roman freedom they threw down in disdain, and trampled upon
the solemn mockery; and when they once cast off this poisoned garment,
they arose like men inspired with a new life; they seemed to look about
as if suddenly aroused from some despairing dream--as if astonished
to hear their old island waves rolling upon a beach unploughed by the
keel of a Roman galley--as if wondering that they had not before broken
through those circumscribed lines, and forts, and ramparts, while they
were yet guarded with the few Roman sentinels; they saw the sunshine
streaming upon their broad meadows, and old forests, and green hills,
and tall pale-faced cliffs, turning to gold every ripple that came
from afar to embrace the sparkling sands of the white beach, and they
felt that such a beautiful country was never intended to become the
home of slaves. They shed a few natural tears when they remembered how
many of their sons and daughters had been borne over those billows in
the gilded galleys of the invaders; they recalled the faces they had
seen depart for ever over the lessening waves; the mother weeping over
her son; the manacled father, whose "eyes burnt and throbbed, but had
no tears;" the pale-cheeked British maidens, who sat with their faces
buried in their hands, as, amid the distant sound of Roman music,
their lovers were hurried away to leave their bones bleaching upon
some foreign shore; and they would have fallen down and prostrated
themselves upon the ground for very sorrow, had not the thunder of
their northern invaders rung with a startling sound upon their ears,
and they felt thankful that much work yet remained to be done, and
that they were now left to fight their own battles, even as their
forefathers had fought, in the dearly remembered days of their ancient
glory.
With a population so thinned as it must have been by the heavy drainage
made from time to time from the flower of its youth, we can readily
conceive how difficult it was to defend the wall which Severus had
erected, after the departure of the Romans. But we cannot imagine that
the Britons would hesitate to abandon a position which they could no
longer maintain, or waste their strength at an outer barrier when
the enemy had already marched far into the country. On this point
the venerable Gildas must have been misinformed, and the narrative
of Zosimus is, beyond doubt, the correct one. From his history it
is evident that the Britons rose up and boldly defended themselves
from the northern invaders; they also deposed the Roman rulers that
still lingered in the British cities, and who, no longer overawed by
the dictates of the emperor, doubtless hoped to establish themselves
as kings, or chiefs, amongst the different tribes they had so long
held in thrall. But the Britons threw off this foreign yoke, and at
last rooted out all that remained of the power of Rome. Thus, beside
the Picts and Scots, who were ever pouring in their ravaging hordes
from the north, and the Saxons, who came with almost every favourable
breeze which blew, to the British shore, there was an old and stubborn
foe to uproot, and one which had for above four centuries retained a
tenacious hold of our island soil. Many of the Romans who remained
were in possession of splendid mansions, and large estates, and as the
imperial city was now over-run with bands of barbarians, they were
loath to leave a land abounding with plenty, for a country then shaken
to its very centre by the thunder of war. Though not clearly stated,
there is strong reason for believing that these very Romans, who were
so reluctant to quit Britain, connived at the ravages of the Picts and
Scots, as if hoping, by their aid, once more to establish themselves in
the island.
This was a terrible time for the struggling Britons--it was no longer
a war in which offers of peace were made, and hostages received, but
a contest between two powers, for the very soil on which they trod.
This the islanders knew, and though often sorely depressed and hardly
driven, they still continued to look the storm in the face. Every man
had now his own household to fight for--the Roman party was led on by
Aurelius Ambrosius, the British headed by Vortigern; a name which they
long remembered and detested, for the misery it brought into the land.
As for Rome, she had no longer leisure to turn her eye upon the distant
struggle, for Attila and his Goths were now baying at her heels; there
was a cry of wailing and lamentation in her towered streets, and the
wide landscape which stretched at her imperial feet, was blackened by
the fire of the destroyer. She had no time, either to look on or send
assistance to either party; and when Ætius had read the petition sent
by the Britons, who complained that "the barbarians chase us into the
sea; the sea throws us back upon the barbarians; and we have only the
hard choice left us of perishing by the sword or by the waves," he
doubtless cast it aside, and exclaimed, "I also am beset by a host of
enemies, and cannot help you:" a grim smile, perhaps, for a moment
lighting up his features, as he recalled the Romans who, false to their
country, had basely lingered in the British island, and thus deserted
him in the hour of need; and as the stern shadow again settled down
upon his features, he consoled himself for a moment by thinking that
they also had met with their reward--then again prepared to defend
himself against the overwhelming force of Attila.
Harassed on all sides, the Britons now began to look to other quarters
for aid, for they appear to have assembled at last under one head,
and to have been guided in their course by Vortigern. The character
of this ancient British king is placed in so many various lights by
the historians who have recorded the events of this obscure period,
that it is impossible to get at the truth. What he did, is tolerably
clear; nor are we altogether justified in ascribing his motives only
to self advancement; pressed within and without by powerful enemies,
he, no doubt, sought assistance from the strongest side, though it
is not evident that he ever made any formal offer. He must have had
some acquaintance with the Saxons, whom he enlisted in his cause--it
is improbable that he would hail an enemy, standing out at sea with
his ships--invite him to land and attack a foe, with whom this very
stranger had been leagued. One man might have done so, but what
Vortigern did had, doubtless, the sanction of the British chiefs who
were assembled around him at the time. They must have had strong
faith in the Saxons, and it is not improbable that some of them had
been allowed to settle in the Isle of Thanet--had already aided the
Britons in their wars against the Romans, who were located in the
island, as well as against their northern invaders, before they were
intrusted with the defence of Britain. But we must first glance at
the England of that day before we introduce our Saxon ancestors--the
"grey forefathers" of our native land, whose very language outlived
that of their Norman conquerors, and who blotted out almost every
trace of the ancient Britons by their power--"A tribe which, in the
days of Ptolemy," says Sharon Turner, in his admirable history of the
Anglo-Saxons, "just darkened the neck of the peninsula of Jutland, and
three inconsiderable islands in its neighbourhood. One of the obscure
tribes whom Providence selected, and trained to form the nobler nations
of France, Germany, and England, and who have accomplished their
distinguished destiny." These stand dimly arrayed upon the distant
shore of time, and calmly await our coming.