THE ROMAN PROVINCE AND THE EARLIER TEUTONIC INVASIONS
After Hadrian, in what Florus jokingly termed the great Emperor’s
‘walking about Britain,’ had reorganized the island, and established
the famous military frontier, Britain settled down to a more or less
eventful existence as a Roman province. The unfortunate results of the
enterprise, into which Claudius had perhaps been led partly against
his will, soon began to be apparent, even if to all thinking men they
were not plain as early as the reign of Hadrian. The military boundary
chosen by Trajan’s successor corresponded roughly with the northern
border of the Brigantes, but it was not the frontier of Britain, which
extended from Clyde to Forth. Therefore, in 140-141, the governor,
Lollius Urbicus, the lieutenant of Antoninus Pius, moved the frontier
forward to this line, and covered it by another rampart, strengthened
by ten forts, only a few miles apart. It was the old, old story--a
forward policy can never halt.
The Roman terminus stood between Forth and Clyde for a few years
only. The wild Caledonians--‘Picts,’ as perhaps the Roman troops were
already calling them--saw their independence threatened now as formerly
by Agricola. About 155 the irrepressible Brigantes again broke out
into rebellion. They were only subdued after a fierce struggle, during
which the garrison of the northernmost wall must have been largely
recalled. The result was the gradual abandonment of the recently
occupied territory. The Caledonians raided through the ill-occupied
wall, inflicted at least one severe defeat on a Roman force, and, as
excavations appear to show, stormed some of the forts. By about 190
the frontier was again at Hadrian’s Wall, with advanced stations at
Habitancum (Risingham) and Bremenium (High Rochester), respectively
twelve and twenty miles from Corstopitum (Corbridge), just south of the
Wall, Castra Exploratorum (Netherby), and one or two other places. So,
after every effort, the ‘British Enterprise’ ended in an unsatisfactory
compromise. The Roman frontier was neither ethnic nor natural, and the
wretched Britons between Roman and Pict were literally between hammer
and anvil. In 196-197 the governor, Decimus Clodius Albinus, took
almost the entire army to Gaul to contest the Empire with Severus I.
He was defeated and slain at Lugdunum (Lyons), and the troops returned
to Britain; but they must have suffered very heavily, besides being
thoroughly discontented with the Emperor, who had slain their own
commander. This weakness and disorganization gave the wild Caledonians
too good an opportunity to be missed. They appear to have occupied the
territory north of the Wall, and even to have crossed the fortified
line itself.
So in 208 Severus himself arrived with powerful reinforcements. In 209
he advanced, and for two years pushed slowly and doggedly forward.
His solution of the problem was the heroic one of subduing the whole
island. The losses of the army in the two campaigns were relatively
enormous--fifty thousand men, it is said. The stern old Emperor was
generally ill; he suffered fearfully from gout, but he never faltered.
On over the desolation of wild Caledonia, slowly, painfully, but with
a grim determination more terrible than the fiercest onslaught, with
Severus in his litter at its head, the devoted army wrought its way,
and at last drew near to the ‘extreme end of the Isle of Britain.’[A]
Severus had won his last victory, for the barbarians were cowed by
the steady advance. They sued for peace, and the grim old conqueror
returned to Eboracum to die. His worthless son Caracalla retroceded
the conquered territory to the Picts, receiving in exchange a more
or less nominal homage; but there is every reason to believe that
the barbarians were daunted, and gave little trouble for many years.
Severus left behind him, as a perpetual monument to his greatness, the
gigantic reconstruction in stone of Hadrian’s Wall, whereof the remains
survive to this day.
[A] Herodian.
After his departure, Britain entered upon a period of prosperity
hitherto unknown. It was saved by its insular position from taking more
than a passive part in the wild chaos of civil and foreign war that
overwhelmed the Roman Empire in the third century, and is described by
a contemporary writer as being in a very flourishing condition. The
Picts were held completely in check by the fortified lines of the Wall.
Perhaps, also, they were involved in warfare among themselves. At any
rate, not until the end of the century did Britain again know the fear
of foreign invasion. This time it was not from the North, but from
oversea. The little cloud, no bigger than a man’s hand, had arisen in
Germany, which was to grow until it overshadowed all the heavens, and
ended by forming a new nation on what had been Celtic soil.
For long generations Germania had been seething with disorder, for
reasons which cannot here be considered. Tribe was pressing on tribe;
the whole mass of wild barbarism was being forced against the Rhine
and the Danube, behind which lay the Roman Empire, sorely weakened
by invasions, plague, famine, economic decay, and misgovernment. The
North-German tribes--Franks, Saxons, Angles, Jutes, Frisians--finding
raids over the Rhine difficult, dangerous, and more and more
unremunerative, began to take to the sea. Their craft as yet--perhaps
to the end--were small open vessels, incapable of rough sea-work, and
obliged to hug the shore as far as possible. The raiding flotillas
ran down what are now the coasts of Denmark, North-West Germany, and
Holland, and turned to right or left on Britain or Gaul, according
to information or inclination. Others, more daring, or encouraged
by spells of fine weather, ran across from Frisia to the coasts of
Essex, Suffolk, and Norfolk, and landed for hasty raids on those rich
agricultural districts. These appear at first to have been met merely
by detachments of troops; the Roman naval force in the Channel was
small. But when the famous organizer and statesman, Diocletian, took
up the task of saving the Empire in 284, he abandoned timid defensive
strategy. His colleague, Maximianus, to whom he entrusted the West,
organized a great fleet in the Channel, and placed in command a
distinguished naval officer, Marcus Aurelius Carausius, with the title
of ‘Count of the Saxon Shore.’ He cleared the sea of the pirates, but,
presently accused of misappropriation of booty, set up in Britain
as independent ruler. He even endeavoured to conquer Gaul, but only
succeeded in permanently holding Gessoriacum (Boulogne). His naval
power, however, rendered his position invulnerable, and Diocletian
and Maximianus stooped to acknowledge him as their colleague. He was
assassinated in 293, but his murderer and successor, Allectus, held the
province for three years longer. He was not the equal of Carausius,
and allowed Constantius Chlorus, Cæsar of the West, to build ships
unmolested in Gaul until he was able to cross the Channel and overthrow
Allectus (296).
Constantius and his more famous son, Constantine the Great, resided
for long periods in Britain, and, partly to this circumstance, partly
to the renewed peace brought about by the protection of the fleet of
the Saxon Shore, the province enjoyed another lease of prosperity.
Indeed, there is some reason to believe that the period 296-350 was
the most prosperous that Roman Britain ever knew. Building was going
on vigorously. When Constantius II. rebuilt Augustodunum in Gaul he
levied artisans for the work in Britain, a circumstance which points to
a condition of great prosperity. The western mines were being actively
worked; Damnonia (Devon and Cornwall) was evidently being drawn much
more closely into the Roman sphere of civilization. Something of the
same kind seems to have been taking place north of the Wall, though
here the Imperial influence was of a much fainter character.
Something must be said of the towns. They were not numerous or
specially important. It must be remembered that Britain as a province
was comparatively poor and unsettled as compared with Spain or
Asia Minor. Its relative prosperity at this period was thrown into
relief by the fact that Gaul had long been suffering from barbarian
invasions; it is not improbable that there had been immigration from
the Continent. To return to the towns: Camulodunum seems never to have
recovered from its destruction by Boudicca. When it was rebuilt, its
walls enclosed an area less than that of several other places. Glevum,
and probably Lindum, were _colonia_; Verulam had been a _municipium_
since the commencement of the Roman epoch. Eboracum was undoubtedly
the principal place north of the Trent; Corinium, Viroconium, Calleva,
Isca Silurum, and other places, had considerable local importance. Aquæ
Sulis was much frequented as a health resort; but the most important
city of the province from the time of Carausius onwards was undoubtedly
London, which about 340 received the title of Augusta, with, in all
probability, exceptional privileges. Its name was far too ancient
to be ousted by a mere honorary appellation, but Londinium Augusta
was certainly the largest and most important, if not the finest, of
Romano-British towns. Its walls enclosed an area of some 380 acres. The
average of population per acre in modern London is about sixty, but
in Berlin it is one hundred. Sanitation was ill-understood in those
days, and in a commercial centre like London the crowding was probably
often dense. The normal population may have been about 50,000. The
area of Verulam was about 203 acres; its population, perhaps, 20,000.
Such importance as it still retained may have been largely due to the
fact that it was a pleasant place of resort from busy and overcrowded
London. Viroconium, with an area of 170 acres, and Calleva with 102,
can hardly be credited with more than 10,000 and 5,000 inhabitants
respectively. Population does not flock into places of no special
commercial importance. Glevum, Lindum, Eboracum, and Corinium were all,
perhaps, as large as Verulamium. Many of the ports on the south coast
must have attained considerable size. But Britain, unlike Gaul, was not
a province of great cities. Apart from resorts of merchants, such as
London, the real centres of social life seem to have been the numerous
villas.
Nor, apart from prosperity at certain periods, can Britain ever have
been a paying province. The number of troops permanently maintained
there must have approached 40,000; while Severus was in the island
there were probably 100,000; in 400 the Notitia shows over 50,000.
Besides the expense of the army, there was that of the vast and
ever-increasing bureaucracy, and of the maintenance of roads and
military works.
When the chief towns were walled we do not know. There is some reason
to think that the fortification of London was begun by Severus I., but
it is probable that most of the wall dates from a later period. The
opinion of the authors, based upon careful examination of the quality
of the work, is that it was constructed in great haste. The wall of
Verulam is especially strong and massive, but whether it is so early as
it is claimed to be is somewhat doubtful. Inscriptions are plentiful
on the Wall of Severus, but not on those of the towns; and since the
practice of commemorative inscriptions tended to die out in the fourth
century, we are, perhaps, justified in supposing that the fortification
of the towns was undertaken comparatively late. Everything is doubtful
at present. We only know that the ‘departure of the Eagles’ left most
of the British towns walled. Since at Silchester the wall crosses the
ends of streets diagonally, the inference is that it was built at a
late date to enclose only the closely inhabited area.
About 343 the Picts, hitherto more or less quiescent, again took to
the war-path. Apparently the defences of the North had been somewhat
neglected; the Wall of Severus was pierced, Corstopitum burned. The
Emperor Constans came in haste from Gaul in the winter to face the
danger, drove back the raiders, and appears to have received some
sort of homage from them, for Julius Firmicus speaks of the Emperor
as having ‘extended the Empire.’ His coercion was at any rate severe
enough to impose peace for seventeen years. But in 360 troubles again
broke out. The Picts renewed their raids, and for the first time we
hear of a new enemy to Britain--the Scots. They were destined to
give their name to the northern part of Britain in the far future,
but for the present they were probably neither more nor less than
adventurers from Ireland. The name may signify a ‘broken’ or landless
man, though the Scots as a whole appear to have had their home in
north-east Ireland. Perhaps they were a confederation of broken clans
and war-bands. They crossed to Caledonia, and established a settlement
in the modern Argyll. At the same time some of the Picts had effected a
small settlement in Ireland and in Galloway. The two peoples were thus
in close communication, and a united attack from them was what might
have been expected.
About 360, then, Picts and Scots began to direct raids upon the
north and west of Roman Britain. After a while they were joined by
the Attacotti, who seem to have been a confederation of the Britons
beyond the Roman Wall--_i.e._, between Tyne and Forth. For a time
these raids produced only slight effect, and in 360 Britain was
exporting quantities of grain to Gaul for the relief of suffering
provincials there. But by 364 the invaders were growing more daring.
There is reason to think that other Irish tribes were assisting them,
and now the ‘Saxons’--that is Angles, Frisians, Jutes, as well as
Saxons--appear once more on the scene. Ammianus Marcellinus says that
they were ‘in conspiracy’--that is, were acting in unison--and this
is very probable. In 367 they made a combined attack and broke up the
defence by two almost simultaneous victories. The Roman Army of the
North was defeated; its commander, Fullofaudes, was slain, and the
force broken up and dispersed; while Nectarides, Count of the Saxon
Shore, was defeated and slain by the Saxons. The results were very
serious. Probably here and there detachments of troops held out behind
the walls of the larger towns and fortresses; but the invaders seem to
have overrun a great part of the country north of the Thames. Ammianus
says that they dispersed over the country in small marauding bands.
The Emperor Valentinian I. sent to cope with this most dangerous
irruption a gallant Spanish officer, Theodosius, entrusting to him
large reinforcements of Teutonic mercenaries and two regiments of the
Imperial Guard. Theodosius’s first care was to clear the Midlands, a
task involving much rapid marching and hard fighting, but successfully
carried out. He wisely did not threaten disbanded troops with military
punishment, and thus was able to rally the Army of Britain on the corps
which accompanied him, and to completely reorganize it. In 369 he
cleared the north, and, so Claudian tells us, pursued the enemy oversea
to their refuges--presumably the Irish coast and the Hebrides. Whatever
exaggeration may be behind the poet’s eulogy, there is no doubt that
Theodosius gained great and, for the time, decisive successes. Although
the theory of a new ‘province of Valentia’ between the Walls of Hadrian
and Antoninus is due to a misunderstanding of the words of Ammianus,
there is some reason to think that Theodosius did in a sense advance
the border. He abolished the ‘Arcani,’ a sort of frontier intelligence
corps composed of border Britons, and this may imply supersession of
them by advanced detachments of regulars. Secondly, we find Attacotti
soon after serving in considerable numbers in the Roman army, a
circumstance which seems to imply complete defeat, if not political
subjection. Thirdly, while Ammianus says that Theodosius restored
all the frontier forts, excavation appears to indicate that the line
of the Wall with its mile-castles was not repaired. The evidence is
not quite conclusive, for the remains of the last occupation lying
nearest to the surface would be the first to perish. The frontier was
guarded in force till forty years later. This has been contested by
Mommsen, who suggested that the roll of the Army of Britain in the
Notitia Dignitatum was copied from an earlier list in order to hide
the chasm caused by the destruction of corps in the Picto-Scottish
wars. Professor Oman has satisfactorily rebutted this theory. He points
out that, though there is a remarkable survival of old regiments, yet
intermingled with them are many with unquestionable fourth-century
titles such as ‘The Thundering Moors,’ ‘The Senior Lions,’ and ‘The
Bears of Valentinian.’ Claudian distinctly states that to meet Alaric,
Stilicho withdrew troops from the North of Britain. Coins of Maximus
(383-388) have been found on the Wall, proving an occupation until
almost the end of the fourth century; and lacking, as there is,
information of any great disaster, it cannot be asserted that the Roman
hold on Britain was not effective until the last. The case of the
Attacotti is suggestive, and there is evidence (some of it certainly
late) that the British tribes between the walls were practically
adjuncts of the province and co-operating in its defence.
The arrangements of Theodosius sufficed to ensure the safety of the
province for some fourteen years. That much damage had been inflicted
is certain, and perhaps Britain never entirely recovered from the
effects of the invasions of 364-368. It has been suggested that Deva,
Viroconium, and other towns in the west, had been destroyed by the
Scots; but this seems very doubtful. A fact to be noted is that there
was already a considerable Teutonic element in the island in the shape
of many _numeri_ formed out of prisoners taken in the chronic wars on
the Rhine. In 371 the Emperor Valentinian sent over to Britain a whole
Alemannic sub-tribe.
In 383 the Army of Britain revolted against Gratianus, the successor
of Valentinian I., and proclaimed as Emperor an able Spanish general,
Magnus Clemens Maximus, who held high command in the island, but had
been passed over by Gratian’s ministers for promotion. The Picts and
Scots seized the opportunity to renew their raids, but were repelled
by Maximus, who then, however, crossed to Gaul to expel Gratian.
The troops joined him, Gratian was murdered by one of his officers,
and Maximus became supreme over Gaul and Spain. Gratian’s brother,
Valentinian II., retained Italy for a while, but in 387 Maximus
expelled him. He hoped, perhaps, to repeat the deeds of Constantine
I., who had conquered the whole empire from the West, but fate decreed
otherwise. In 388 Theodosius I., Emperor of the East, son of Count
Theodosius, came up against him, and he was defeated at Aquileia,
captured, and executed.
Gildas says that, to defend himself against Theodosius, Maximus
stripped Britain of her warriors, and so paved the way for the ruin
that was to come. This, however, is very doubtful, and Gildas cannot be
relied upon except for his own times. But Claudian may be believed when
he says that Britain suffered from Pictish and Scottish raids, though
he no doubt paints his picture in the darkest colours. The ‘Historia
Brittonum’ says that about 385-390 the Scots were in possession of
North Wales, but that they were driven out by an army led by Cunedda
and his eight sons from the land of the Otadini--_i.e._, the Lothians
(Manau Gododin). If this statement--and it is very precise--may be
taken as historical fact, it can only mean that the Otadini now formed
part of the province, and that an auxiliary force led by one of their
chiefs was employed to clear North Wales of the Scots. Cunedda was
clearly a Romanized Briton; his father Æternus and his grandfather
Paternus bear just the quaint names that were common among Romans
in the fourth century. It is possible that Cunedda’s campaign was
initiated by Maximus. ‘Maxim Gwledig’ (= Maximus Imperator) bulks
largely in British legend, and it is permissible to suppose that there
was some solid reason for the respect paid to his memory. The theory
that Wales, and possibly Damnonia, were defended by their own local
levies accounts satisfactorily for the fact that in the Notitia we find
no regular troops stationed in those regions. It also explains the
early formation of monarchical states among them, which is a feature
of the next century. Finally, if a large part of the warriors of the
Otadini went to Wales, we might expect to find the defence of the north
weakened, and, if Claudian may be trusted, this is what did happen.
When Theodosius the Great died in 395 the Roman Empire was already
sorely pressed, but for more than ten years ruin was staved off by the
great Vandal Stilicho, guardian of the weak young Emperor Honorius, and
Commander-in-Chief in the West. Amongst other things, he reorganized
the defences of Britain. The General in the North was called the ‘Duke
of the Britains’ (_Dux Britanniarum_). From Brancaster, in Norfolk,
to Southampton Water extended the district of the Count of the Saxon
Shore (_Comes Littoris Saxonici_). Both were under the supreme command
of the Count of the Britains (_Comes Britanniarum_), who controlled a
reserve force which could be used at need to strengthen either north or
east. The VIth Legion was still at York; the IInd was now at Rutupiæ;
and there were besides thirty-seven auxiliary regiments of infantry
and sixteen of cavalry--nearly 60,000 men in all. There were also two
naval squadrons--one stationed on the ‘Saxon Shore,’ the other off the
Lancashire coast.
One most important fact must be kept steadily in mind: the Army of
Britain, though it contained some foreign corps and a large number of
soldiers of foreign extraction, was in the main British in composition
and feeling. For centuries the troops of each Roman province had been
very largely recruited locally, either by conscripts or the children
of the soldiers themselves, often trained to camp-life and war from
their youth up. A so-called Moorish cohort would perhaps not contain
a single Moor, and so on throughout the army. A regiment stationed in
Britain kept its name, but was made up with British recruits.
In 402 King Alaric and the Visigoths set out to invade Italy, and
Stilicho was forced to weaken the Army of Britain for the defence of
Ravenna and Rome. Among the troops withdrawn was the VIth Legion--its
long residence at York at last at an end--and none of them ever came
back; for though Stilicho hurled invasion after invasion out of Italy,
on January 1, 406, a horde of Teutons poured over the frozen Rhine and
began to waste Gaul. Like an army whose line has been pierced, the
provinces found the Germans interposed between them, and Britain was
cut off from Italy.
Thereupon the Army of Britain appears to have decided that Honorius and
Stilicho were useless as defenders of the Empire, and resolved to save
it themselves--by mutinying! They selected a certain Marcus as emperor,
and almost immediately murdered him. A second, named Gratianus, had
the same fate; but the third, Constantine, was made of sterner stuff,
and wore the purple for over three years--perhaps because he was wise
enough to leave Britain. He decided to imitate the example of ‘Maxim
Gwledig,’ and crossed to Gaul in 407. This is the event so often, and
wrongly, called the ‘departure of the legions.’
Constantine had been chosen Emperor in order to carry out the task with
which Stilicho had failed to successfully grapple. Is it to be supposed
that he would have dared to leave Britain defenceless, even had he so
desired? The idea is absurd. He no doubt took to Gaul a considerable
force, which must have been mainly British, and his chief general,
Gerontius (Geraint), was a Briton. But to suppose that, as Gildas
wails, the province was left defenceless, and that the inhabitants were
so effeminate and cowardly as to be incapable of bearing arms, cannot
be allowed. It is certain that the Britons were among the best fighting
peoples of the Empire, and when Constantine crossed to Gaul in 407 he
undoubtedly left his base properly garrisoned. It is not even certain
that the IInd Legion left Britain.
Constantine laid hands on a great part of Gaul and Spain--so far
as they were not held by barbarians--and marched down to the Rhone
to oust Honorius, who had just murdered his guardian and principal
stay, the great Stilicho. Gerontius, however, revolted from him, and
in 411 he was besieged in Arelate (Arles), captured, and executed.
Meanwhile, what of Britain? In 409 came the first mutterings of the
coming storm. The Saxons and their allies made raids both on Britain
and Gaul. Thereupon the provincials disowned Constantine, who was
clearly no more of a success than Stilicho, expelled his officials,
elected others of their own choosing, raised new levies of troops, and
repulsed the raiders. This is vouched for by the chronicler Zosimus.
The ministers of Honorius, beset by many troubles, had already sent
word to the British communities that they must defend themselves, and
the provincials probably regarded their action as one of adherence to
the legitimate Emperor as against usurpers of the type of Constantine.
Certainly there was no conscious withdrawal from the Empire.
The course of events can only be dimly conjectured. In the east the
Romanized cities probably took the lead. In the west and north matters
went differently. These regions were less civilized, and the political
unit was the tribe and not the city. In North Wales Cunedda was
practically king, and small monarchial states soon sprang up elsewhere.
In the north, about 450, St. Patrick tells us of a military state
(Strathclyde), ruled by a chief whom he calls Coroticus, who possessed
both a paid army and a fleet, and had not only beaten off the Scots,
but had made retaliating raids on Ireland. Both Cunedda and Coroticus
are called Gwledig (overlord) in the Welsh genealogies, and Cunedda at
least appears to have held the post of _Dux Britanniarum_ (General of
the Northern Frontier). Apparently after his death a new state named
Reged arose on the Wall; it was founded by Coel--the ‘Old King Cole’ of
an irreverent nursery rhyme. Speaking roughly, we may say that in South
Wales and Damnonia tribal kingdoms, in North Wales and the north-west
military states, were the rule; while the cities apparently kept up
Roman traditions, and by means of their walls maintained independence.
It will be seen that in many ways the outlook was bad for Britain.
The interests of the military chiefs of the tribal dynasts and of the
Romanized cities were certain to diverge, and hostilities between them
were almost inevitable. Probably even the cities did not always find
co-operation easy. It is possible that there were already numbers of
Teutons in the country; there may have been Teutonic settlements on
the coast of Lothian as early as 400. The fleet of the Saxon Shore had
apparently disappeared, presumably during the troubled period 407-411.
Finally, the country lacked the unifying bond of a common religion.
It is practically certain that though the Christian Church in Britain
was a vigorous organization, its adherents were in a minority. The
church at Calleva is so small as to make it certain that the Christian
population was only some hundreds in number, the total of inhabitants
being, perhaps, 5,000. The fragments of a local god were found by the
explorers around its pedestal--_i.e._, the statue was standing there
when disaster overtook the place. When St. Germanus visited Britain
in 429 he baptized thousands of converts. Probably in Britain, as
elsewhere in the failing Empire, the adhesion of the upper classes to
Christianity was nominal or non-existent, as it was to be for some
generations; and the majority among the masses was frankly pagan.
Thus divided, distracted, with a defensive system disorganized by
repeated withdrawals or shifting of troops, and with little prospect of
co-operation between its cities and tribal cantons, Britain had to face
attacks from three sides. On the north were the restless Picts, on the
west the Scots, on the east the Teutons.
To construct anything like a connected narrative out of the few
authorities who shed light on this period is almost, if not quite,
impossible. The whole epoch has been called the ‘lost period,’ but
it would not be by any means unfair to describe it as neglected. The
authorities are scanty, obscure, and hopelessly confused; but it is
possible, by careful study, to construct a not improbable skeleton of
facts.
From 409 to 429 we have no clear indication of the course of events in
Britain. It seems, however, to have been somewhat as follows:
Internally the process of reorganization with city states, tribal
principalities, and military monarchies went on, probably with much
jarring and intestine strife, of which there are indications in Gildas,
and the queer mosaic of fairy tales, legends, genealogies, and scraps
of lost chronicles called the ‘Historia Brittonum.’ The most remarkable
fact is that the Picts and Teutons were in communication, and acted at
times in conjunction. Various statements in the Life of St. Germanus,
and in the ‘Historia Brittonum’ lead one to infer that the earliest
settlements of the English in Britain were neither in the south nor
the east, but on the Firth of Forth. According to the Northumbrian
genealogies in the ‘Historia Brittonum,’ Soemil, the predecessor of
Aella of Deira, in the fifth generation, was the first to separate
Deira from Bernicia. This must mean that he founded a Teutonic
principality in the north-east. Bernicia is, apparently, a corruption
of Brigantia (Bryneich, or Berneich, in the ‘Historia’).
If, as early as 420 (Soemil can hardly be placed much later), the
Angles were able to effect permanent settlements in north-east Britain,
they were probably raiding there years before. That their raids, more
or less in conjunction with the Picts, penetrated a considerable
distance south is also probable, though the establishment of the
kingdoms of Strathclyde and Reged in this quarter tended to check them.
It was probably during the intestine struggles, which resulted in the
founding of these states, that the English effected their lodgments.
The men of Strathclyde and Reged soon began a series of fierce attacks
upon them, and for a century and a half they were confined to narrow,
and perhaps disconnected, slips of coast; but once established, they
were never really dislodged. The Britons, who had the Picts and Scots
also on their hands, and were further distracted by dynastic broils,
never made the united attack which might have driven the English, to
use Napoleon’s famous phrase, ‘into the sea.’
In the west the Britons were probably more occupied with the Scots
and Irish than with Picts, though it is highly probable that German
pirate squadrons occasionally harassed the south-west. In Lancashire
and western Yorkshire was the kingdom of Theyrnllwg, and to the east
another called Elmet, whose capital was Loidis (Leeds). Both these
states may have represented sub-tribes of the Brigantes. In the western
Midlands was the kingdom of Powys, and in the south-west Damnonia. In
Wales there were at least three states, probably corresponding to the
old tribal cantons of the Ordovices, Silures, and Demetæ. Gwynedd,
under the dynasty of Cunedda, appears to have been generally regarded
as the chief state, and the suzerainty of its kings was sometimes
effective. There are indications that Cunedda, at least, ruled both
Gwynedd and Theyrnllwg, but, as usual in Celtic dynasties, his
successors divided his heritage.
On the whole, it seems, as is natural, that while the British states
were in course of formation, the Picts and Scots were able to raid the
province with comparative success for some years. About 425 Dathi,
Ard-righ (suzerain king) of Ireland, is said, in the Irish annals, to
have been slain oversea; and this may have occurred on a raid against
the Britons. In 429 Germanus, Bishop of Auxerre, who had formerly
been ‘Dux’ of Aremorica, and Lupus, Bishop of Troyes, came to Britain
to combat the Pelagian heresy which had sprung up in the island. It
is curious that a Church which had so far failed to Christianize the
province could produce a heresiarch like Pelagius; but the phenomenon
is not by any means unparalleled.
Germanus was one of those fine men about whom all that was best of
society rallied in those terrible days. One biography of him, written
by a Gallic priest, survives; another, probably composed in Britain, is
lost, but was known to one of the compilers of the ‘Historia Brittonum.’
Germanus and Lupus met their Pelagian opponents in synod at Verulam. We
are told that they worshipped at the tomb of St. Alban; and as this lay
outside the walls, it may be considered as certain that the south-east
had not been visited by raiders. The sanctity of the spot explains
the choice of it as the meeting-place. We might rather have expected
London, but it is noteworthy that St. Paul’s is said to have been built
on the site, not of a former church, but of a temple of Apollo; and
it is possible that London, a great resort of merchants, was rather a
stronghold of eclecticism, if not paganism, than of Christianity.
The Gallic bishops had other and more mundane work to do before they
departed. Some part of the island, probably the north-east, was being
wasted by a joint invasion of Picts and ‘Saxons.’ There must have been
men in the British levies opposing them who had heard of Germanus as a
soldier--officers and men of the old Imperial cohorts--and a message
was sent begging the Gallic bishops to join the camp. The point upon
which the biographer dwells is naturally the conversion and baptism on
the eve of battle of thousands of the pagan peasant soldiers, but we
may suspect that the old warrior Germanus was busily engaged as well
in drilling and organizing his motley troops. His generalship appears
to have been very good; he drew the enemy into a battle on his own
chosen ground. The British army was stationed in a valley, the centre
in battle array at its head, the wings carefully concealed, thrown
forward along both sides. To inspirit the new levies, Germanus gave as
the word for the day ‘Alleluia.’
The ‘Saxons’ and Picts, presumably in the dense column formation common
to barbarians, pushed boldly up the valley against the British centre,
but when they came to close quarters Germanus let loose the ambushed
wings. With wild shouts of ‘Alleluia! Alleluia!’ the Britons poured
down to the attack, and a complete rout ensued, the barbarians breaking
up and throwing away their arms in panic-stricken flight. A river lay
athwart their line of retreat, and the passage of this proved as fatal
as the battle. The result appears to have been to secure the north for
a time at least. When next we get a glimpse of these regions we find
a strong British state taking the offensive against the Picts, and
gaining territory from them; this may very well have been due to the
victory of Germanus. The battlefield cannot be identified, but it is
as well to warn visitors to Maes Garmon, near Mold, that this site is
an extremely unlikely one. Picts are not likely to have raided in this
direction, and the English did not appear there for at least a century
and a half.
It is to be inferred from the ‘Vita S. Germani’ that in the south-east
at least Britain was still under Roman civil government. We hear
nothing of kings or even chiefs. Roman official titles are mentioned,
and we are told that the magnates were richly attired. It is impossible
to make anything of the strange statement in the ‘Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle’ that in 418 the Romans in Britain burned their treasures and
fled to Gaul. The Chronicle is far too late to be of any authority for
this period. Its chronology cannot in any case be depended upon; but it
is just possible that there really was during this period a migration
of some sort, perhaps of non-British officials and their families. It
must not be forgotten that Britain not only extended northward to the
Forth, but also, perhaps, already had a colony in Gaul--the modern
Brittany. The ‘Historia Brittonum’ makes the quite credible statement
(though some of the details look rather absurd) that this settlement
was initiated by Magnus Maximus, but, at any rate, we know from
Sidonius Apollinaris that in 469 it was a very large one. Possibly, the
statement above may refer to some incident connected with Brittany.
Finally, it is very necessary even to-day to warn readers against the
foolish idea that ‘Romans’ and Britons were at this date distinct
peoples. A Roman meant during the Imperial period anyone under the
Roman Government possessing civil rights--that is, almost all the free
population. A Roman might be by birth a Briton, a Gaul, an Italian, a
Greek, an Illyrian, a Jew; and a Briton or a Greek was neither more nor
less a Roman than an Italian. The average Roman legion rarely contained
Italians, much less inhabitants of the city of Rome; but, nevertheless,
the soldiers were Roman. So with the civil administration: a Roman
Ministry might contain members of every race under the Roman rule.
Once, again, we must repeat that men were Roman by virtue of their
political status, and not by reason of their national origin. The
Britons were Romans--Romano-Hellenic, that is, in manner and customs,
Latin in speech. The Roman government never definitely abandoned
Britain. In the troubles of the fifth century the province was left,
like many other regions, under local autonomy until such time as the
central government could again exercise control, and for various
reasons this never occurred. The country almost insensibly drifted
apart from the labouring Roman world, but a hundred years later its
people still called themselves ‘Cives,’ and were proud that they were
Romans.
After the events of 429, it appears that the course of history somewhat
changed. The ‘Alleluia’ victory apparently checked serious foreign
invasions, but there is no reason to doubt that, as the ‘Historia’
says, Britain was in alarm. The Roman world was in wild disorder, which
must have affected Britain; but when, in 447, Germanus once more came
to combat Pelagianism, we do not hear of foreign war. Yet a Gallic
chronicle says that Britain was conquered by the Saxons in 441, and
Gildas states that in 446 some British provincials sent a miserable
letter, called ‘The groans of the Britons,’ to the great general
Aëtius, who then upheld the Roman name in Gaul. The latter statement
we can neither accept nor deny. Possibly it is only one of Gildas’s
rhetorical flights; possibly, if the incident occurred, it referred
only to a single community. The Gallic chronicler may have been
misinformed, or his chronology may be wrong. In any case, his statement
must be rejected. Perhaps there was a raid in 441, the consequences of
which were exaggerated by those who were responsible for the report
made of it in Gaul. It seems impossible that, if the English conquest
had already begun in 447, we should hear nothing of it in connection
with the second visit of Germanus.
The only conclusion to which it is possible to come is that after the
‘Alleluia’ victory Britain, though more or less harassed by sporadic
raids, was for some years comparatively free from barbarian attacks.