THE ENGLISH CONQUEST
Although the English invasion of Britain is by far the most important
of all those which have affected the island, it is impossible to focus
any very clearly defined picture of the happenings during the long
period of nearly two centuries that followed the so-called departure
of the Romans. The picture is blurred, but certain strong outlines
are conspicuous, and in this chapter an attempt has been made to
concentrate attention on these salient features.
The incident which led to the English invaders obtaining a secure
foothold in south-east Britain was probably connected with internal
troubles rather than foreign invasions. The Celtic chieftains of the
south-west were less occupied than their northern contemporaries in
repelling foreign invaders. They must have cast longing eyes upon the
wealthy Romanized cities, and cherished hopes of bringing them, or some
of them, under their sway. Vortigern, one of these rulers, probably
prince of the Silures, seems to have partially succeeded in doing so,
and about A.D. 450 appears as supreme over the south as far as Dover
Straits. Whether his suzerainty extended north of the Thames must be
considered very doubtful.
The ‘Historia Brittonum’ describes the situation as follows:
‘After the above-said war, the assassination of their rulers, and the
victory of Maximus, who slew Gratian, _and the termination of the Roman
power in Britain, they were in alarm forty years_. Vortigern then
reigned in Britain, and in his time the people had cause of dread,
not only from the inroads of the Picts and Scots, _but also from the
Romans, and their apprehensions of Ambrosius_.’
The passage is a very confused one, and what appear to be the
significant sentences are italicized. The opening statement is a kind
of summing-up of the confused sections which precede it. It has been
seriously misunderstood by several authors, but its meaning is fairly
obvious. The chronology of the ‘Historia’ is its most hopeless feature,
but here it presents no great difficulty. Forty years after the end of
the Roman power, Vortigern reigned in Britain. As we have seen, direct
Roman rule ended in 410-411. We therefore arrive at the year 450-451.
Bede says that Hengist entered Britain in the reign of Marcianus and
Valentinian III.--_i.e._, after 450; but he is out in his reckoning,
and so makes the date A.D. 449. Gildas makes it after 446. Probably it
was after 447, for in that year St. Germanus again came to Britain, and
no foreign troubles are mentioned. On the other hand, the ‘Historia’
says that Vortigern died while St. Germanus was in the island--_i.e._,
in 447. This would place the invasion of Kent in 445 or 446, and if it
really did occur then, it agrees somewhat better with the famous letter
to Aëtius recorded by Gildas. But we dare not trust Gildas for anything
before 470, and the ‘Life of St. Germanus’ used by the compilers of
the ‘Historia’ was evidently a very fanciful work. On the whole the
chronology of the English invasions is very uncertain. The one definite
indication is that Vortigern’s reception of Hengist took place forty
years after the end of Roman power in Britain.
Vortigern was also in fear of Ambrosius. This is a most interesting
statement. The Ambrosius here mentioned may very well have been the
father of the greater figure soon to be noticed. The name is a Latin
one, and Ambrosius was almost certainly the leader of the Romanized
inhabitants as distinct from the Kymry of the West. His family seems
to have been a notable one, for we can hardly doubt that they are
the forbears of the Ambrosius Aurelianus celebrated by Gildas. Where
Ambrosius had his stronghold is not known; quite possibly he was in
league with London, Verulam, and other Roman towns, and was perhaps the
chief of their forces.
Finally, Vortigern was afraid of the Romans. This is probably exactly
the state of affairs if he reigned from about 440 to 450; for the great
general Aëtius was very active in Gaul during this period, and may
have sent assistance to the Romanizing party in Britain. Quite possibly
in the letters mentioned by Gildas the ‘barbarians’ were the Kymry, and
the second visit of St. Germanus may have been as much political as
religious.
However this may be--and everything during this period is largely
conjecture--there is no reason to doubt that Vortigern, whose
suzerainty was evidently a most uneasy one, did, as the ‘Historia’
says, employ German mercenaries under Hengist and Hors, or Horsa. Very
likely he had other bands in his pay, but the fame of this one has
outshone that of the rest.
Hengist is practically beyond doubt an authentic historical figure. He
is probably to be identified with the Hengist in the famous poem of
Beowulf, who made a truce with the Frisian slayers of his lord Hnæf.
The custom was for the followers to die with their lord or avenge him.
The fact that Hengist did neither would be quite enough to cause his
disgrace, and the ‘Historia Brittonum’ distinctly says that he was an
exile. It also appears to bear out the ‘Historia’s’ character of him as
a cunning and low-minded, if able, man.
The followers of Hengist only manned three ships, and possibly they
were in a distressed condition when Vortigern took them under his
protection. As the small band can hardly have been of much account by
itself, we must suppose either that the king employed Hengist to raise
a mercenary force, or that when the breach between employers and
employed occurred, the latter were joined by swarms of adventurers.
The ‘Historia’ says that, owing to Hengist’s persuasions, Vortigern
employed in all fifty-nine ships’ crews. The romantic feature of the
affair, according to the ‘Historia,’ is that Vortigern fell violently
in love with Hengist’s daughter, who accompanied him, and married her.
It was not quite an honour for the Jutish maiden Hrothwyn (Rowena),
if indeed that was her name, for Vortigern’s amours were numerous and
indiscriminate. She merely became one of his harem. But if the incident
be true, it is another application of the French proverb, _Cherchez la
femme!_ The marriage was certainly the beginning of woes for Britain.
Vortigern apparently defeated and slew Ambrosius with the help of his
German mercenaries, but then his troubles began. The Isle of Ruim
(Thanet) had been assigned as the land-recompense of the mercenaries,
but they declared that it was too small. Bede says that it supported
six hundred families in his day, and as fifty-nine ships’ crews would
mean hardly less than fifteen hundred warriors, the latter were, from
their own point of view, perfectly right. In any case, they were
accustomed to living by their swords, and presumably believed that
Vortigern, allied to them by marriage, would give way to pressure
exercised by the old and still practised methods of slaughter and
pillage.
At any rate, in 455, if we may trust the ‘Anglo-Saxon Chronicle,’
the bands of Hengist broke out of Thanet and began to move westward,
ravaging as they went. Probably at first they did not attack the
walled towns; they may merely have intended an armed protest. Where
Vortigern was or what he did we cannot say; his sons Vortimer and
Categirn led the opposition to the invaders. A battle was fought
at a place not specified, and Hengist was driven back into Thanet.
Presumably reinforced from the Continent, he again emerged from his
fastness, and encountered Vortimer in two battles, both claimed as
British victories, but clearly indecisive. One was on the Durgwentid
River (perhaps either the Stour or Darenth), the other at Rit-hergabail
or Episford, generally supposed to be Aylesford on the Medway. Horsa
and Categirn were both slain. It was apparently an English reverse, for
the fourth battle was fought by a Roman monument on the shore of the
Channel. The invaders were defeated and driven on board their ships;
but Vortimer, unfortunately for the Britons, died soon afterwards,
perhaps of wounds received in the battle. The story goes that he
desired his followers to bury him at the spot where Hengist had
landed--presumably therefore at Ebbsfleet--so that in death he might
keep watch over the country that he had for the moment saved. He was
not obeyed. Geoffrey of Monmouth, who may perhaps have had some written
authority for his statement, says that he was buried at London.
Vortigern now reappears on the scene, and opens negotiations with the
invaders. The ‘Historia’ says that Hengist arranged a conference and
banquet of six hundred unarmed notables, three hundred from each side.
He, however, ordered his own followers to hide knives in their shoes,
and when the feast was in full progress every Jute drew his dagger upon
his helpless British comrade. Vortigern alone was spared, and, probably
in fear of his life, concluded peace on very disadvantageous terms.
There is no reason to discredit the story, except the quite inadequate
one that the ancestors of Englishmen could not be guilty of such
treachery.
This catastrophe appears to have ended Vortigern’s sovereignty in the
south, and he fled to his own Welsh realm. There is a wild legend that
Germanus called down fire from heaven upon him, but Germanus had died
in Gaul some years before. The motive of the legend is obvious: no
fate was too terrible for the hated dynast who had betrayed Britain,
and the temptation to bring in Germanus must have been irresistible.
Vortigern’s genealogy appears to have been well known, and his
descendants were ruling in south-east Wales ten generations later.
Hengist does not ever appear to have lost Thanet, and in the disorder
after Vortigern’s death he was again able to invade Kent. In 457 he
won a victory at Crayford, and the Britons retreated to the walls of
London; yet in 465, and again in 473, the invaders are apparently still
fighting in Kent. As the Jutish kingdom never extended far beyond the
bounds of the modern county, there is every reason to believe that the
conquest of Kent was a very slow and difficult process.
Meanwhile, however, the successes of Hengist attracted the notice of
his kinsfolk in Germany, and expeditions, not for purposes of plunder,
but for permanent conquest, were being formed. The supposition must be
put aside that England was founded as a number of separate states by
independent bands of invaders. That the Britons made a stern resistance
is beyond doubt, and to have been successful the invaders must have
been acting in large and more or less organized bodies. Moreover, the
invasions were national ones. Kent, indeed, possibly Sussex, may have
been independent creations by chiefs of bodies of mixed mercenaries,
but the whole English people (Angel-cynn) sooner or later took part in
the settlement. It was a great national migration, and undoubtedly one
of the most remarkable in history. The emigrants could not march by
land, like the Goths and Franks, in great masses, which could bear down
resistance by sheer weight of numbers and courage. They had to transfer
themselves over hundreds of miles of sea in more or less frail open
craft, at the mercy of every gale; yet in the course of a century the
name of Angle had vanished from the Continent, and become peculiar to
Britain. Possibly a remnant of the people remained behind; to this day
a district of Schleswig bears the name of Angeln.
Bede says that the invaders came from three nations of Germany, the
Angles, Saxons, and Jutes. This appears to be so far true in that
these three peoples took part in the migration; but while practically
the entire English nation came, they were accompanied by only a few
Saxons and a portion of the Jutes. It is very probable, also, that
fragments of nearly all the Teutonic tribes on the Continent were in
the invading hosts. The kingdom of Kent is said to have been Jutish;
certainly its social structure differed remarkably from that of the
other English states, but Hengist himself seems to have been an Angle.
Bede says that the Kentish Code was written in the _English_ language.
The confused grammatical structure of the present English tongue
certainly points to a mingling of races, and on the whole we may infer
that the invasion was conducted not only by the Angles, but by many
kindred tribes, and that these latter in course of time gradually came
to regard themselves as English also. Early mediæval writers use the
terms ‘Angle’ and ‘Saxon’ indiscriminately.
The invaders were no mere barbarians. Their deeds were often barbarous
enough, no doubt; but it must be said that the picture drawn by Bede of
kings like Aethelberht and Eadwine and their followers shows them in a
very favourable light. Perhaps Bede idealizes; possibly in the course
of a century the invaders had softened somewhat; but as that century
had been passed for the most part in warfare, the latter conclusion is
unlikely. At any rate, the English brought with them a highly organized
social system, and judging merely from recorded facts, they were, as a
nation, possessed of many of the elements of civilization.
[Illustration: ANGLO-SAXON WEAPONS AND OTHER OBJECTS IN THE BRITISH
MUSEUM.
1 and 2. Shield-boss and knife from Anglo-Saxon cemetery at Long
Wittenham, Berks. 3. Shield-boss, about 7 inches in height,
from grave at Twickenham. 4. Iron sword found in the Thames,
about 3 feet long; the wooden handle is a rough copy of one
found in Cumberland. 5. Spear-head, about 28 inches long, found
in Thames, London. 6, 7, and 9. Spear or lance heads. 8. Brace
of shield showing hand-grip in centre, about 16 inches long,
from Droxford, Hants. 10. An iron lamp or cup, about 12 inches
high, from a grave at Broomfield, Essex. 11. Anglo-Saxon bronze
bowl from a grave at Sarre, Thanet.]
Neither were the invaders a mere disorderly throng of ill-armed and
unarmoured marauders. The evidence of archæology is all to the effect
that they were acquainted with, and used, defensive armour. Probably
only the upper classes wore it, but as elaborate and costly coats of
mail have been found in graves in Schleswig and Denmark dating from
this period, this deduction cannot be made without qualification.
Mail and weapons, which latter have been found in thousands, would
hardly be buried, and therefore lost, unless they could be easily
replaced. The chiefs undoubtedly rode to battle; the deposits are full
of horse-trappings. On the whole, we may imagine the armies which
conquered Britain as being more or less like those of the Homeric
Greeks. The nucleus consisted of the king and his retinue, with a
larger or smaller following of nobles and their retainers equipped with
mailshirt, helmet, and shield, and armed with sword and spear. Though
they rode to war, they probably, with few exceptions, fought on foot.
Whether their peasantry were regarded as fighting men is doubtful.
Professor Chadwick thinks that they were not. In that case the conquest
of England was effected by armies consisting of chiefs with larger or
smaller bands of well-armed followers combined into armies under kings
or generals. Perhaps only when they had gained a firm foothold in the
country did the English bring over their peasant retainers and serfs
to till the land, while the fighting men protected them or carried out
further conquests. The frequent gaps in the war-bands may have been
filled up partly by levies from the peasantry, partly by adventurers
from all sides. Success must have brought many of the latter to the
English standards.
Having said so much, we will proceed to give, as far as is possible,
a sketch of the conquest; but the reader must be warned that it is
largely conjecture. The skeleton narrative which follows has been
constructed with care, after study and comparison of the earliest
authorities--Gildas, Nennius, and Bede, and the few other early
mediæval chroniclers who notice Britain--but probably there is hardly a
statement which is not open to criticism.
At first the invaders appear to have come rather as bands of raiders
than as conquering armies, but Gildas implies that some of them, at
least, dashed right across the island to the Irish Sea. His lurid
descriptions of the destruction of towns may be taken for what they
are worth; it is to be noted that he does not name one of them. He
appears to say that the shrine of St. Alban had been destroyed, but as
it almost certainly lay outside Verulam, it need not be assumed that
the town shared its fate. As a fact, judging from what occurred on the
Continent, walled towns were able to defy large hosts of barbarians.
No doubt the raids were destructive enough, and Gildas, despite his
exasperating style, probably does not overstate the misery in those
districts which were wasted by the marauders. But it is certainly rash
to deduce from his narrative that the whole of Eastern Britain up to
the central watershed, including all the important Roman towns, was
conquered and ruined within a few years after 450. The archæological
evidence is of the scantiest. The sites of the greater Roman towns are
almost all built upon. Calleva and Venta Silurum were small places and
of no special importance. The site of Verulam has scarcely been touched.
It is needless to say that all maps of Britain at this period are
purely conjectural. There is no real clue as to the lines of advance of
the invaders. The probability is that they made their way inland along
the rivers. After a time the bands are found coalescing into armies;
for this must be the meaning of Bede’s statement that Aella, whose
coming is placed by the ‘Anglo-Saxon Chronicle’ in 477, was the first
‘Bretwalda.’ The chronology is, of course, worthless, but that Aella
really did command the English host for a time is highly probable. His
main sphere of action is said by the Chronicle to have been Sussex; but
probably, commanding as he did an army whose base was the sea, he had
other fields of operations. His chief exploit is said to have been the
storm of Anderida (Pevensey) in 491, according to the Chronicle, but
probably earlier. He, with his son Cissa, ‘beset Anderida, and slew all
that were therein, nor was there afterwards one Briton left.’
The Britons, according to Gildas, were for a while unable to make any
effective resistance to the attacks of their enemies, who were being
steadily reinforced from oversea; but after a weary time of ravage and
defeat, a Roman (Romanized Briton) named Ambrosius Aurelianus, perhaps
a son of the Ambrosius who had opposed Vortigern, took the lead. The
plan of accepting the suzerainty of Kymric dynasts for the sake of
peace and unity had led to disaster, and men were ready to rally to
one who stood for Roman traditions. Ambrosius succeeded in organizing
an effective resistance, and the result seems to have been that he was
acknowledged as king in the south at least. The ‘Historia Brittonum’
states that Vortigern’s son Pascentius was subject to him, and in the
Welsh traditions he appears as ‘Emrys Gwledig.’
Nevertheless, the success was only partial. It appears certain that
the Teutons were firmly established on the eastern coast as well as in
Kent and Sussex. Ambrosius fought against them incessantly with varying
fortune all through his reign, but if he confined them to the territory
which they had already won, and checked their raids inland, it was as
much as he could do. The invaders’ base was the sea, and they could
attack when and where they pleased; we do not hear, nor is it probable,
that Ambrosius succeeded in organizing a navy, and no other means could
have definitely checked the advance. On the other hand, Ambrosius
probably had to some extent the advantage which unity of command gives,
while his opponents’ operations would often be disunited and erratic.
In the midst of the struggle Ambrosius died.
His gallant efforts appear to have produced important results. Not
only was he able to pass on his power to his descendants, as Gildas
witnesses, but a more or less united resistance was kept up against
the invaders. In the place of Ambrosius the cities and kings appear
to have chosen as Commander-in-chief, or _Dux Bellorum_, a certain
Artorius, famed in legend as ‘King Arthur.’ He may or may not have been
the immediate successor of Aurelianus; perhaps here again Geoffrey of
Monmouth had some authority for interposing a third figure between the
two, though ‘Uther’ looks suspiciously like a variation of Arthur.
Artorius may have been a relation of Ambrosius.
At any rate, his leadership was signalized by a long succession of
victories. The ‘Historia Brittonum’ gives the rather suspicious round
number of twelve, but as it is obtained by there having been four
battles in the same locality, there is no obvious reason for doubting
it.
The first battle was at the mouth of the river Gleni; the second,
third, fourth, and fifth on the river Dubglas, in the region Linuis;
the sixth on the river Bassas; the seventh in Celidon Wood. The eighth
was at Gwinnion Castle, and in this fight it is especially noted that
Arthur’s standard was an image or picture of the Virgin. The ninth
battle was at the City-of-the-Legion, the tenth on the Ribruit or
Tribruit, and the eleventh on a mountain called Agned. The twelfth
was at Mount Badon, and in it Arthur is credited with the slaughter,
single-handed, of nine hundred and sixty Saxons!
Of these twelve engagements the field of the seventh is practically
certain. Coit Celidon must be the Caledonian Forest (on the upper
Forth). This fixes some of the battles at least as fought in the north;
and this is rendered more probable, because one recension of the
‘Historia’ says that the Virgin of Gwinnion was afterwards deposited at
Wedale, near Melrose. The Gleni may be the Glen in Northumberland. The
Dubglas must clearly have been a most important strategic point if four
battles were fought there.
[Illustration: THE PASS THROUGH THE LAMMERMUIRS.
The extraordinary network of fortifications indicates the vast
strategic importance in the past of this highway between
the Lothians and north-eastern England. The broken black
lines indicate localities now under cultivation, and where,
consequently, the fortifications are no longer obvious.]
If the first batch of battles occurred in the north, it is fair to
assume that they were fought against the Angles, and this practically
fixes them in the north-east. There is good reason for believing that
the Angles had very early established themselves in this quarter.
Now, it is worthy of note that there is to-day a streamlet called
the Dunglass at the entrance of Cockburnspath, the pass through the
eastern corner of the Lammermuirs, south-east of Dunbar, which played
an important part in the Great Civil War over eleven centuries later.
Cockburnspath is just the place at which one might expect battles
between rival forces moving from north to south and _vice versa_. The
hills around are still covered with the remains of fortifications,
many apparently of great antiquity. It may be that the course of the
war in this neighbourhood was as follows: The English moving south
from their settlements on the Firth of Forth were met and defeated by
Arthur, perhaps on the Glen, and retreated to Cockburnspath. After a
succession of engagements, they were driven thence, again defeated on
the Bassas (locality unknown), and finally pursued into the Caledonian
Forest.
The seat of war then appears to shift southward. Gwinnion may have been
fought to drive off some of the invaders who had got into the rear of
the Britons while the latter were fighting at the Forth. Urbs Legionis
is probably in this instance York. The Ribruit and Agned cannot be
identified; Mons Badonis or Badonicus is supposed to have been Bath,
but there is no reason for this identification; it probably arose out
of the similarity between Badon and the English appellation of Aquae
Sulis. Wadon Hill, near Avebury, and Badbury (? Baden-burh) Rings in
Dorset have both been identified with this mysterious site. It seems
from Gildas that it was a fortress. Probably it was besieged by the
invaders, and relieved by Arthur in a battle which stayed the English
advance for many years.
[Illustration: BRITAIN FROM ABOUT 500-570.
Showing the probable effects of the Romano-British rally under
Ambrosius Aurelianus and his successors. No towns are indicated
within the English areas, as it is probable that all had been
deserted or destroyed.]
The date of these events is doubtful. Gildas, in a sentence which is
the despair of all Latinists, seems to say that the battle of Mons
Badonicus was fought forty-four years and one month before he wrote his
book. We know that he wrote some years before the death of King Mælgwn
of Gwynedd (A.D. 547). This fixes the date of the battle at about 500.
The ‘Annales Cambriæ’ put it in 516, but the ‘Annales’ are as late as
the ‘Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.’ Mr. E. B. Nicholson has suggested that the
forty-four years are to be reckoned from the appearance of Ambrosius
to 516. It is quite possible that the great leader did commence his
campaigns about 472, but Gildas hardly gives us the impression of a man
capable of very accurate chronology. But if he were born on the day of
the battle, as he says, it would be a simple matter. On the whole, we
may reasonably say that the battle was fought about the year 500, and
its effect was to stay the advance of the English in the south for at
least forty-four years.
One would willingly hear more of the men whose efforts for a while
stayed the flowing English tide; but practically all that is known is
here set down. The ‘Annales Cambriæ’ state that twenty-one years after
Mons Badonicus Arthur and Medrant fell in a battle at Camlan. Arthur is
repeatedly mentioned in the bardic poems of Wales, but we cannot tell
to what extent these works may have been altered in later ages.
Whatever the fate of Arthur, and whatever the extent and nature of
his influence in Britain, his victories staved off ruin for half a
century, but no longer. The curse of Britain was that there were too
many dynasts for ever warring among themselves. The picture that Gildas
has painted may be highly coloured, but there is no reason to doubt
that when the danger appeared to be over, the old tribal quarrels
began again. Strathclyde and Reged were divided among the different
branches of the Houses of Coroticus and Coel. About 540 the energetic
but unscrupulous and dissolute Mælgwn, King of Gwynedd, succeeded in
getting rid of his related competitors. He may also have asserted a
primacy in the south and west, for Gildas calls him ‘Insularis Draco’
(Island Dragon), though it is true that this may simply refer to the
fact that the seat of the Cunedda dynasty was at Aberffraw in Mona.
Gildas overwhelms him with turgid invective and garbled quotations
from Scripture--in fact, his so-called history is, on the face of it,
nothing but a sermon directed at Mælgwn. He also denounces two other
Welsh dynasts--Vortipore of the Demetæ, and Cuneglass of Powys(?), and
two princes with Latin names--Constantinus of Damnonia and Aurelius
Caninus. The first name of the latter suggests that he may have been
one of those degenerate grandsons of Ambrosius Aurelianus of whom
Gildas speaks.
It is in the interval between Mons Badonicus and 577 that the Saxon
Chronicle places the conquest of Wessex. To discuss this matter in
detail would be to occupy far more space than is here available, but
it may be said, in short, that there is every reason to believe that
the Chronicle’s chronology is wrong; that it is highly improbable
that the West Saxons ever came up Southampton Water, the shores of
which were occupied by Jutes at an early date; finally, that Cerdic
is a very doubtful figure. The West Saxons were also, and commonly,
called Gewissæ, ‘the Confederates.’ Cerdic is a Celtic name; it is,
indeed, the same as Coroticus, or Caradoc, and this fact, coupled
with the curious name of the kingdom, suggests that Cerdic may have
been a Celtic prince, who founded a kingdom with the aid of English
mercenaries or allies, and became so identified with them that his
origin was forgotten. The latest opinion is that Wessex did not start
from Hampshire at all. Some of the battles mentioned--_i.e._, that with
Natan-leod--may be authentic, but they were the work of Jutes. Any
delimitation of the territory occupied by the invaders at the time must
necessarily be a very vague one; but it is probable that when Gildas
wrote they fell into three sections. South of the Thames--largely south
of the Weald--a long English-Jutish strip of territory stretched from
Southampton Water to Thanet, never reaching far inland except in Kent,
which was solidly occupied, and, perhaps, always the wealthiest of the
new States.
North of the Thames indications are even vaguer. Professor Oman is of
opinion that all the Romano-British cities in Eastern Britain perished
very early, mainly on the authority of Gildas, who appears to give ‘a
picture of a Celtic Britain which does not extend anywhere towards the
east coast.’
To attempt to make any definite geographical deductions from a writer
so vague as Gildas is rash; as a fact, we know that his five dynasts
are only some of several, and the territory of one of them who bears
the most suggestive name of all is not specified. Aurelius Caninus
may just as well have been king of London and Verulam as of Glevum,
Corinium, and Aquæ Sulis. Opinion is steadily trending in the
direction of a belief in the continuous existence of London through the
‘lost’ centuries. This is too great a question to discuss here, but on
practical military grounds it may be pointed out that London, strongly
fortified, apparently populous, and situated astride of a great river,
was eminently fitted to be the curb of a barbarian invasion. There is
also to be considered the curious fact that the country round London
was called Middlesex, as if it at one time formed a sort of buffer
between East and West Saxons. The name certainly seems to show that
London and its territory became English late.
The English north of the Thames possibly lay north and east of a line
drawn from Leicester to the mouth of the Thames. If so, their abode
corresponded roughly to the later ‘Danelaw.’ They probably formed, like
the Vikings, a confused mingling of petty kingdoms, earldoms, and the
camps of war bands. What was going on north of the Humber is not known,
but certainly the Bernician Angles in Lothian were fighting hard with
the British kingdoms of Strathclyde and Reged. Not until 547 did they
take Bamborough. The beginnings of Deira were probably still later;
it is not at all certain that the English had as yet any footing in
Yorkshire. Had a second Ambrosius Aurelianus or Artorius arisen to
coerce the warring British states into unity, the English settlements
might have been conquered, as were those of the Danes by Alfred and
Eadward I.
This was not to be. About 540 the Anglian settlements were fast
increasing in strength. The whole ‘Angel-cynn,’ in fact, were streaming
over to Britain every year as fast as their ships could take them.
Probably they were forced on by the disorder in Europe, and the
pressure caused by the migrating Slavs and the raiding Avars with their
kindred tribes. At any rate, about 550 we find the English once more on
the move, and this time the Britons had no Ambrosius or Arthur to save
them.
About 547 King Ida of Bernicia took Dinguardi, soon to be Bebban-burh,
and began to push southward in the teeth of a desperate resistance from
the Britons of Reged under King Dutigern. The struggle was celebrated
in the songs of the great bards, Talhærn, Aneurin, Taliesin, and
Llywarch. Ida left twelve sons, several of whom reigned after him.
The most celebrated was the fierce raider Theudric--‘Flamddwyn,’ the
‘Burner,’ as the Britons called him. After much fighting, he was
completely defeated by Urien of Reged, and forced to take refuge on
Lindisfarne. But Urien was murdered by his own jealous kinsfolk in the
hour of victory, and Theudric, reinforced by new Anglian war bands, was
able to take the offensive again. The murder of Urien seems to have
broken the British power. His son Owen was slain by the ‘Burner,’ and
Theudric ranged up and down the country, wasting it mercilessly, and
finally establishing English Bernicia so strongly that it was never
again in peril (_circa_ A.D. 570).
Meanwhile, in the south, too, about 571, the English had begun a fresh
advance under Ceawlin, the first authentic king of the Gewissæ or
West Saxons. He probably commanded a large confederate army collected
from all the English states between Humber and Thames. A great battle
was fought at Bedford. The English were completely victorious, and
conquered the whole of the south-east Midlands as far as the Thames.
The towns captured are given their English names by the ‘Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle,’ which is only to be expected; by the ninth century their
Roman appellations had vanished. The effect of the victory would
naturally be to leave London isolated. Possibly it maintained its
independence for some time, but by 596 it was certainly included in
Essex or Kent. Perhaps it had been in alliance with Kent for some time,
for Ceawlin had hostilities with the young King Aethelberht, and the
possession of London may have been the _casus belli_.
The battle of Bedford firmly established the kingdom of the Gewissæ,
and Ceawlin probably extended his sway southward to the Weald and the
New Forest. Perhaps it was now that Calleva was finally abandoned. The
confines of the Britons were narrowed, and the last seats of the old
Roman civilization (if it had not by now entirely disappeared) were
about to fall into the hands of the English.
In 577 Ceawlin went westward, perhaps from Calleva, with the whole host
of the Gewissæ. At Deorham, probably Derham, north of Bath, he met a
confederate British army under three kings--Conmail, Farinmail, and
Condidan. The last name may perhaps be read (Aurelius) Candidianus.
The English victory was complete; the three kings were slain; Glevum,
Corinium, and Aquæ Sulis, together with the whole valley of the lower
Severn, fell into the hands of the conquerors.
Ceawlin’s later fortune was not equal to that of his earlier days. He
was defeated in an attempt to penetrate Wales, and his motley host
then revolted and deposed him. The Gewissan state became subject
to Aethelberht of Kent, who now succeeded to Ceawlin’s position of
‘Bretwalda.’ Nevertheless, Ceawlin had done his work; the battle of
Deorham was the most decisive struggle in the war which won Britain for
the English.
North of the Humber, after the death of Aethelric, the last of Ida’s
sons, Aethelfrith, the son of Aethelric, became king of Bernicia about
593. He made himself supreme also over Deira, and in 603 gained a most
complete and decisive victory over a confederation of Strathclydian
and Regedian Britons, Scots, and Irish from Ulster, under Aedan, King
of the Scots of Dalriada. The result was the destruction of Reged,
which survived only in a few scattered fragments, and the consolidation
of English power in the north. Then, in 613, the Northumbrian king
advanced upon Deva; a glance at the map will show his admirable
strategy. Bede’s half-sorrowful praise of him (he was a heathen) was
evidently well deserved.
[Illustration: BRITAIN ABOUT 613.
Showing the effects of the victorious campaigns of Ceawlin and
Aethelfrith. The line of the Anglo-British frontier was
extremely vague, and the indications are therefore only
approximate.]
Before Deva there gathered for battle Cadwan, King of Gwynedd, the
most powerful of the Kymric princes; Brochmail, King of Theyrnllwg;
and Selim, perhaps Prince of Powys. Near Deva lay the great monastery
of Bangor Iscoed, with its 2,100 monks; and, after spending three days
in prayer and fasting, 1,200 of the latter accompanied the Britons
to the field. They stood apart, and a detachment of warriors under
Brochmail guarded them. Aethelfrith watched the gestures and movements
of the strange company, and the sound of their chants and prayers
floated across to him. ‘They bear not arms,’ he said to his chiefs,
‘but our enemies they be, for their imprecations assail us. Slay them
first.’ The grim order was obeyed. Brochmail and his followers were
put to flight; the monks were butchered ruthlessly, and then, having
disposed of supernatural enmity, the English turned to fight their
secular adversaries. The battle was long and desperately contested, and
Bede says that Aethelfrith’s army suffered severely; but it ended in
another great English victory. Two British kings were slain; Cadwan and
Brochmail fled with only a remnant of their army.
Aethelfrith did not live to complete the conquest of the north; he
died in civil strife four years later. But the battles of Deorham and
Deva ensured the complete conquest of Britain. The British states were
hopelessly parted from one another, and could never again combine for
resistance, even had they the will to do so. They were, in 620, as
their foes had been in 520, cut into disconnected masses. Worse still,
they occupied wild and barren territories, and the dynastic conditions
did not make for internal peace. Nor did they ever again produce a
really great leader. After Deorham and Deva there was never any real
hope of recovering the lost ground, and to Ceawlin and Aethelfrith this
result was almost entirely due.
Inadequate and nebulous as this narrative of the events of a period
of such vital importance to the English nation may appear, yet out of
it there stand forth certain clearly-defined epochs and figures. The
invaders at first only plundered, until an apparently chance incident
opened the way to permanent settlement. For a time the tide of conquest
and occupation was checked by the series of brilliant victories gained
by Ambrosius and Arthur, but the civil broils of the Britons prevented
any permanent success over the continually multiplying enemy; and with
the advent of two really great leaders on the side of the invaders, the
older inhabitants found themselves hopelessly penned up in the barren
regions of the west. Thenceforth Britain was Britain no longer, but
Angle-land--England.