CHAPTER II.

THE ENGLISH BY THE SHORES OF THE BALTIC.

From the notices left us by Bæda in Britain, and by Nithard and others

on the continent, of the habits and manners which distinguished those

Saxons who remained in the old fatherland, we are able to form some idea

of the primitive condition of those other Saxons, English, and Jutes,

who afterwards colonized Britain, during the period while they still all

lived together in the heather-clad wastes and marshy lowlands of Denmark

and Northern Germany. The early heathen poem of _Beowulf_ also gives us

a glimpse of their ideas and their mode of thought. The known physical

characteristics of the race, the nature of the country which they

inhabited, the analogy of other Germanic tribes, and the recent

discoveries of pre-historic archæology, all help us to piece out a

fairly consistent picture of their appearance, their manner of life, and

their rude political institutions.

We must begin by dismissing from our minds all those modern notions

which are almost inevitably implied by the use of language directly

derived from that of our heathen ancestors, but now mixed up in our

conceptions with the most advanced forms of European civilisation. We

must not allow such words as "king" and "English" to mislead us into a

species of filial blindness to the real nature of our Teutonic

forefathers. The little community of wild farmers and warriors who lived

among the dim woodlands of Sleswick, beside the swampy margin of the

North Sea, has grown into the nucleus of a vast empire, only very

partially Germanic in blood, and enriched by all the alien culture of

Egypt, Assyria, Greece, and Rome. But as it still preserves the

identical tongue of its early barbarous days, we are naturally tempted

to read our modern acquired feelings into the simple but familiar terms

employed by our continental predecessors. What the early English called

a king we should now-a-days call a chief; what they called a meeting of

wise men we should now-a-days call a palaver. In fact, we must recollect

that we are dealing with a purely barbaric race–not savage, indeed, nor

without a certain rude culture of its own, the result of long centuries

of previous development; yet essentially military and predatory in its

habits, and akin in its material civilisation to many races which we now

regard as immeasurably our inferiors. If we wish for a modern equivalent

of the primitive Anglo-Saxon level of culture, we may perhaps best find

it in the Kurds of the Turkish and Persian frontier, or in the Mahrattas

of the wild mountain region of the western Deccan.

The early English in Sleswick and Friesland had partially reached the

agricultural stage of civilisation. They tilled little plots of ground

in the forest; but they depended more largely for subsistence upon their

cattle, and they were also hunters and trappers in the great belts of

woodland or marsh which everywhere surrounded their isolated villages.

They were acquainted with the use of bronze from the first period of

their settlement in Europe, and some of the battle-axes or shields which

they manufactured from this metal were beautifully chased with exquisite

decorative patterns, equalling in taste the ornamental designs still

employed by the Polynesian islanders. Such weapons, however, were

doubtless intended for the use of the chieftains only, and were probably

employed as insignia of rank alone. They are still discovered in the

barrows which cover the remains of the early chieftains; though it is

possible that they may really belong to the monuments of a yet earlier

race. But iron was certainly employed by the English, at least, from

about the first century of the Christian era, and its use was perhaps

introduced into the marshlands of Sleswick by the Germanic conquerors of

the north. Even at this early date, abundant proof exists of mercantile

intercourse with the Roman world (probably through Pannonia), whereby

the alien culture of the south was already engrafted in part upon the

low civilisation of the native English. Amber was then exported from the

Baltic, while gold, silver, and glass beads were given in return. Roman

coins are discovered in Low German tombs of the first five centuries in

Sleswick, Holstein, Friesland, and the Isles; and Roman patterns are

imitated in the iron weapons and utensils of the same period. Gold

byzants of the fifth century prove an intercourse with Constantinople

at the exact date of the colonisation of Britain. From the very earliest

moment when we catch a glimpse of its nature, the home-grown English

culture had already begun to be modified by the superior arts of Rome.

Even the alphabet was known and used in its Runic form, though the

absence of writing materials caused its employment to be restricted to

inscriptions on wooden tablets, on rude stone monuments, or on utensils

of metal-work. A golden drinking-horn found in Sleswick, and engraved

with the maker's name, referred to the middle of the fourth century,

contains the earliest known specimen of the English language.

The early English society was founded entirely on the tie of blood.

Every clan or family lived by itself and formed a guild for mutual

protection, each kinsman being his brother's keeper, and bound to avenge

his death by feud with the tribe or clan which had killed him. This duty

of blood-revenge was the supreme religion of the race. Moreover, the

clan was answerable as a whole for the ill-deeds of all its members; and

the fine payable for murder or injury was handed over by the family of

the wrong-doer to the family of the injured man.

Each little village of the old English community possessed a general

independence of its own, and lay apart from all the others, often

surrounded by a broad belt or mark of virgin forest. It consisted of a

clearing like those of the American backwoods, where a single family or

kindred had made its home, and preserved its separate independence

intact. Each of these families was known by the name of its real or

supposed ancestor, the patronymic being formed by the addition of the

syllable _ing_. Thus the descendants of Ælla would be called Ællings,

and their _ham_ or stockade would be known as Ællingaham, or in modern

form Allingham. So the _tun_ or enclosure of the Culmings would be

Culmingatun, similarly modernised into Culmington. Names of this type

abound in the newer England at the present day; as in the case of

Birmingham, Buckingham, Wellington, Kensington, Basingstoke, and

Paddington. But while in America the clearing is merely a temporary

phase, and the border of forest is soon cut down so as to connect the

village with its neighbours, in the old Anglo-Saxon fatherland the

border of woodland, heath, or fen was jealously guarded as a frontier

and natural defence for the little predatory and agricultural community.

Whoever crossed it was bound to give notice of his coming by blowing a

horn; else he was cut down at once as a stealthy enemy. The marksmen

wished to remain separate from all others, and only to mix with those of

their own kin. In this primitive love of separation we have the germ of

that local independence and that isolated private home life which is one

of the most marked characteristics of modern Englishmen.

In the middle of the clearing, surrounded by a wooden stockade, stood

the village, a group of rude detached huts. The marksmen each possessed

a separate little homestead, consisting usually of a small wooden house

or shanty, a courtyard, and a cattle-fold. So far, private property in

land had already begun. But the forest and the pasture land were not

appropriated: each man had a right from year to year to let loose his

kine or horses on a certain equal or proportionate space of land

assigned to him by the village in council. The wealth of the people

consisted mainly in cattle which fed on the pasture, and pigs turned out

to fatten on the acorns of the forest: but a small portion of the soil

was ploughed and sown; and this portion also was distributed to the

villagers for tillage by annual arrangement. The hall of the chief rose

in the midst of the lesser houses, open to all comers. The village moot,

or assembly of freemen, met in the open air, under some sacred tree, or

beside some old monumental stone, often a relic of the older aboriginal

race, marking the tomb of a dead chieftain, but worshipped as a god by

the English immigrants. At these informal meetings, every head of a

family had a right to appear and deliberate. The primitive English

constitution was a pure republican aristocracy or oligarchy of

householders, like that which still survives in the Swiss forest

cantons.

But there were yet distinctions of rank in the villages and in the loose

tribes formed by their union for purposes of war or otherwise. The

people were divided into three classes of _æthelings_ or chieftains,

_freolings_ or freemen, and _theows_ or slaves. The _æthelings_ were the

nobles and rulers of each tribe. There was no king: but when the tribes

joined together in a war, their _æthelings_ cast lots together, and

whoever drew the winning lot was made commander for the time being. As

soon as the war was over, each tribe returned to its own independence.

Indeed, the only really coherent body was the village or kindred: and

the whole course of early English history consists of a long and tedious

effort at increased national unity, which was never fully realised till

the Norman conquerors bound the whole nation together in the firm grasp

of William, Henry, and Edward.

In personal appearance, the primitive Anglo-Saxons were typical Germans

of very unmixed blood. Tall, fair-haired, and gray-eyed, their limbs

were large and stout, and their heads of the round or brachycephalic

type, common to most Aryan races. They did not intermarry with other

nations, preserving their Germanic blood pure and unadulterated. But as

they had slaves, and as these slaves must in many cases have been

captives spared in war, we must suppose that such descriptions apply,

strictly speaking, to the freemen and chieftains alone. The slaves might

be of any race, and in process of time they must have learnt to speak

English, and their children must have become English in all but blood.

Many of them, indeed, would probably be actually English on the father's

side, though born of slave mothers. Hence we must be careful not to

interpret the expressions of historians, who would be thinking of the

free classes only, and especially of the nobles, as though they applied

to the slaves as well. Wherever slavery exists, the blood of the slave

community is necessarily very mixed. The picture which the heathen

English have drawn of themselves in _Beowulf_ is one of savage pirates,

clad in shirts of ring-armour, and greedy of gold and ale. Fighting and

drinking are their two delights. The noblest leader is he who builds a

great hall, throws it open for his people to carouse in, and liberally

deals out beer, and bracelets, and money at the feast. The joy of battle

is keen in their breasts. The sea and the storm are welcome to them.

They are fearless and greedy pirates, not ashamed of living by the

strong hand alone.

In creed, the English were pagans, having a religion of beliefs rather

than of rites. Their chief deity, perhaps, was a form of the old Aryan

Sky-god, who took with them the guise of Thunor or Thunder (in

Scandinavian, Thor), an angry warrior hurling his hammer, the

thunder-bolt, from the stormy clouds. These thunder-bolts were often

found buried in the earth; and being really the polished stone-axes of

the earlier inhabitants, they do actually resemble a hammer in shape.

But Woden, the special god of the Teutonic race, had practically usurped

the highest place in their mythology: he is represented as the leader of

the Germans in their exodus from Asia to north-western Europe, and since

all the pedigrees of their chieftains were traced back to Woden, it is

not improbable that he may have been really a deified ancestor of the

principal Germanic families. The popular creed, however, was mainly one

of lesser gods, such as elves, ogres, giants, and monsters, inhabitants

of the mark and fen, stories of whom still survive in English villages

as folk-lore or fairy tales. A few legends of the pagan time are

preserved for us in Christian books. _Beowulf_ is rich in allusions to

these ancient superstitions. If we may build upon the slender materials

which alone are available, it would seem that the dead chieftains were

buried in barrows, and ghost-worship was practised at their tombs. The

temples were mere stockades of wood, with rude blocks or monoliths to

represent deities and altars. Probably their few rites consisted merely

of human or other sacrifices to the gods or the ghosts of departed

chiefs. There was a regular priesthood of the great gods, but each man

was priest for his own household. As in most other heathen communities,

the real worship of the people was mainly directed to the special family

deities of every hearth. The great gods were appealed to by the

chieftains and by the race in battle: but the household gods or deified

ancestors received the chief homage of the churls by their own

firesides.

Thus the Anglo-Saxons, before the great exodus from Denmark and North

Germany, appear as a race of fierce, cruel, and barbaric pagans,

delighting in the sea, in slaughter, and in drink. They dwelt in little

isolated communities, bound together internally by ties of blood, and

uniting occasionally with others only for purposes of rapine. They lived

a life which mainly alternated between grazing, piratical seafaring, and

cattle-lifting; always on the war-trail against the possessions of

others, when they were not specially engaged in taking care of their

own. Every record and every indication shows them to us as fiercer

heathen prototypes of the Scotch clans in the most lawless days of the

Highlands. Incapable of union for any peaceful purpose at home, they

learned their earliest lesson of subordination in their piratical

attacks upon the civilised Christian community of Roman Britain. We

first meet with them in history in the character of destroyers and

sea-robbers. Yet they possessed already in their wild marshy home the

germs of those free institutions which have made the history of England

unique amongst the nations of Europe.

Anglo-Saxon Britain · 第 2 / 21 章