solicitations to drive back the Picts and Scots who overran the land
(but reached not the walls of London). This done, they went away for
good. And now, indeed, we understood that our long security was over,
and that we must arise and defend ourselves, or meet with the fate that
overtakes the weak and cowardly. They put up for us a wall before they
went away, but the wall availed not long. No walls are of any avail
unless there be valiant defenders behind. Then the enemy once more
overran the country. To them were joined pirates from Ireland. Thus the
land of Britain seemed given over to destruction, especially in the
North and West. The merchants who traded with these parts were now
driven to sore straits, because no goods came to them from their
friends, nor were those who were once wealthy able to purchase any more
the luxuries which had formerly been their daily food. But in the lands
east and south, and that part of the country lying east of the fenny
country, the people were free from alarms, and feared nothing, being
protected by the sea on one hand and the fens on the other; so that we
in London looked on with disquiet, it is true, but not with alarm. Nay,
the situation looked hopeful when our people, recovering their spirit,
drove out the enemy, and once more sat down to cultivate the lands. For
a few years there was peace, with plentiful harvests and security. Then
our trade again revived, and so great was the quantity of corn, hides,
iron, and tin which was brought to our ports and shipped for foreign
countries that the old prosperity of Augusta seemed destined to be
doubled and trebled. Many merchants there were--wise men and
far-seeing--who taught that we should take advantage of this respite
from the greed and malice of our enemies to imitate the Romans, and form
legions of our own, adding that the island wanted nothing but security
to become a great treasure-house or garden, producing all manner of
fruit, grain, and cattle for the maintenance and enrichment of the
people. This counsel, however, was neglected.
"Then there fell upon the country a plague which carried off an immense
number. The priests said that the plague, as well as the Pict and the
Scot, came upon us as a visitation for our sins. That may be, though I
believe our chief and greatest sin was that of foolishness in not
providing for our own defence.
"Now we had long been troubled, even when the Count of the Saxon Shore
guarded our coasts, by sudden descents of pirates upon our shores. These
devils, who had fair hair and blue eyes, and were of greater stature
than our own people, carried swords a yard long, and round wooden
shields faced with leather. Some of them also had girdle daggers and
long spears. They were extremely valiant, and, rushing upon their foes
with shouts, generally bore them down and made them run. They seemed to
know, being guided by the Evil One, what places were least defended and
therefore most open to attack. Hither would they steer their keels, and
landing, would snatch as much pillage as they could, and so sail home
with loaded vessels, at sight of which their brothers and their cousins
and all the ravenous crew hungered to join in the sport.
"In an evil moment, truly, for Britannia, our King invited these people
to help in driving off the other enemies. They willingly acceded. So the
lion willingly accepts the protection of the flock and drives off the
wolves. This done, he devours the silly sheep. Not long after a rumor
reached the Bridge that the Jutes had arrived in great numbers and were
warring with the men of Cantia. This news greatly disquieted the City,
not only because from that country, which was rich and populous, great
quantities of food came to the City, with grain and hides for export,
but also because the fleets on their way passed through the narrow
waters between Ruim, which the Jutes call the Isle of Thanet, and the
main-land, on their way to Rutupiæ and thence across the sea to Gallia.
The rumor was confirmed; and one day there came into the City across the
Bridge, their arms having been thrown away, the defeated army, flying
from the victorious Jutes. After this we learned every day of the
capture and destruction of our rich ships in the narrow waters
above-named, insomuch that we were forced to abandon this route and to
attempt the stormy seas beyond the cliffs of Ruim; and the perils of our
sailors were increased, with the risk of our merchants, insomuch that
prayers were offered in all the churches; and those who divined and
foretold the future, after the manner of the old times before the light
of the Gospel shone upon us, came forth again and were consulted by
many, especially by those who had ships to sail or expected ships to
arrive. The priests continually reproached us with our sins and exhorted
us to repentance, whereof nothing came, unless it were the safety of the
souls of those who repented. But while one or two counselled again that
we should imitate the Romans and form legions of our own, others were
for making terms with the enemy, so that our trade might continue and
the City should grow rich. In the end we did nothing. We did not repent,
so far as I could learn, but who knows the human heart? So long as we
could we continued to eat and drink of the best, and we formed no
legions.
"Why should I delay? Still the invaders flocked over. Of one nation all
came--men, women, and children--leaving a desert behind. In the year of
our Lord 500, the whole of the east and most of the south country were
in the hands of this new people. Now this strange thing has been
observed of them. They love not towns, and will not willingly dwell
within walls for some reason connected with their diabolical religion;
or perhaps because they suspect magic. Therefore, when they conquered
the country, they occupied the lands indeed, and built thereon their
farm-houses, but they left the towns deserted. When they took a place
they utterly burned and destroyed it, and then they left it, so that at
this day there are many once rich and flourishing towns which now stand
desolate and deserted. For instance, the city and stronghold of Rutupiæ,
once garrisoned by the Second Legion; this they took and destroyed. It
is reported that its walls still stand, but it is quite deserted. So
also Anderida, where they massacred every man, woman, and child, and
then went away, leaving the houses in ashes and the dead to the wolves;
and they say that Anderida still stands deserted. So, also, Calleva
Atrebatum, which they also destroyed, and that, too, stands desolate.
So, too, Durovernum, which they now call Cantwarabyrig. This they
destroyed, and for many years it lay desolate, but is now, I learn,
again peopled. So, too, alas! the great and glorious Augusta, which now
lies empty, a city lone and widowed, which before was full of people.
"When Cantia fell to the Jutes we lost our trade with that fair and rich
province. When the East Saxons and the Angles occupied the east country,
and the South Saxons the south, trade was lost with all this region.
Then the gates of the Vicinal Way and that of the Bridge were closed.
Also the navigation of the Lower Thames became full of danger. And the
prosperity of Augusta daily declined. Still there stood open the great
highway which led to the middle of Britannia and the north, and the
river afforded a safe way for barges and for boats from the west. But
the time came when these avenues were closed. For the Saxons stretched
out envious hands from their seaboard settlements, and presently the
whole of this rich country, where yet lived so many great and wealthy
families, was exposed to all the miseries of war. The towns were
destroyed, the farms ruined, the cattle driven away. Where was now the
wealth of this famous province? It was gone. Where was the trade of
Augusta? That, too, was gone. Nothing was brought to the port for
export; the roads were closed; the river was closed; there was nothing,
in fact, to send; nay, there were no more households to buy the things
we formerly sent them. They lived now by the shore and in the recesses
of the forest, who once lived in great villas, lay on silken pillows,
and drank the wine of Gaul and Spain.
"Then we of the City saw plainly that our end was come; for not only
there was no more trade, but there was no more food. The supplies had
long been scanty, and food was dear; therefore those who could no longer
buy food left the town, and sallied forth westward, hoping to find a
place of safety, but many perished of cold, of hunger, and by sword of
the enemy. Some who reached towns yet untaken joined the warriors, and
received alternate defeat and victory, yet mostly the former.
"Still food became scarcer. The foreign merchants by this time had all
gone away; our slaves deserted us; the wharves stood desolate; a few
ships without cargo or crew lay moored beside our quays; our churches
were empty; silence reigned in the streets. Now, had the enemy attacked
the City there would have been no resistance, but no enemy appeared. We
were left alone--perhaps forgotten. The marshes and moors which surround
the City on all sides became our protection. Augusta, to the invader,
was invisible. And she was silent. Her enmity could do no harm, and her
friendship could do no good. She was full of rich and precious things;
the Basilica and the Forum, with the columns and the statues, stood in
the midst; the houses contained pictures, books, baths, costly hangings;
yet the Saxon wanted none of these things. The City contained no
soldiers, and therefore he passed it by, or even forgot its existence.
"There came the day when no more provisions were left. Then those who
were left, a scanty band, gathered in the Basilica, and it was resolved
that we should leave the place, since we could no longer live in it.
Some proposed to try escape by sea, some by land. I, with my wife and
children, and others who agreed to accompany me, took what we could of
food and of weapons, leaving behind us the houses where our lives had
been so soft and happy, and went out by the western gate, and taking
refuge where we could in the forest, we began our escape. Mostly we
travelled by night; we passed burning towns and flaming farmsteads; we
encountered hapless fugitives more naked and miserable than ourselves.
But finally we arrived in safety at the town of Glevum, where we have
found shelter and repose.
"Every year our people are driven westward more and more. There seems
no frontier that will stop them. My sons have fallen in battle; my
daughters have lost their husbands; my grandchildren are taught to look
for nothing but continual war. Should they succeed in reaching our City,
the old will perish; but the young may take flight across the river
Sabrina, and even among the mountains of the West--their last place of
flight. Should they be driven from the hills, it will be into the sea.
And of Augusta have I learned nothing for many years. Wherefore am I
sure that it remains desolate and deserted to this day."
[Illustration: SEPULCHRAL CISTS, ETC.: FOUND IN WARWICK SQUARE, NEWGATE
STREET, 1881 (_British Museum_)]
The writer of this journal, most valuable and interesting--even
unique--was not quite right. Not all the inhabitants of Augusta went
away. In the city a remnant was left--there is always a remnant. Some of
them were slaves. All of them were of the baser sort, whose safety, when
cities are taken by assault and massacres are abroad, lies in their
abject poverty and in the dens wherein they crouch. These remained;
there were not many of them, because hunger had already driven away
most. When the rest were gone they came out of their holes and looked
about them, irresolute. Seeing no enemy, they hastily shut and barred
the city gates and sat down fearful. But days passed, and no attack was
made upon them. Then they began to take courage, and they presently
bethought them that the whole town was their own to plunder and to
pillage. They began, therefore, with great joy to collect together the
things which the people had been unable to carry with them--the sacred
vessels from the churches and the rich embroidered robes of silk worn by
the priests. They found soft stuffs in the villas, with which they
wrapped themselves; they found curtains, rich hangings, pillows,
cushions, carpets--all of which they took. The carved work and statues,
books, pictures, and things which they understood not they broke in
pieces or burned. They carried off their plunder to the houses on the
river-side--the quarter which they chose as handy to their boats in case
of an alarm and convenient for fishing--on which they now placed their
chief reliance for food. When they found that no one molested them they
ventured out into the Northern forest, where they trapped the deer and
the boar. Their thin veneer of civilization was speedily lost: when they
had used up all the fine clothes, when they had burned up all the
wood-work in the place, when the roofs of their houses fell in, they
went back to quite the ancient manner; they made a circular hut with a
fire in the middle of it, around which they crouched. They had no more
blankets and woollen cloaks, but they did very well with a wild beast's
skin for dress. Their religion slipped away and was forgotten; indeed,
that was the first thing to go. But, which was strange, they had not
even kept the remembrance of their ancestors' worship. If they had any
religion at all, it was marked by cruel sacrifices to a malignant unseen
being.
By this time nothing remained of the old houses but their walls, and
these, disintegrated by frost and rain, were mostly ready to fall; the
gardens of the villas, the beautiful gardens in which their owners took
so much delight, were choked and overgrown with nettles and brambles;
the mosaic pavements were covered up with rubbish and mould.
[Illustration: ROMAN KEYS (_Guildhall_)]
How long did this go on? For fifty years or more. The rude survivors of
Augusta and their children lived neglected and forgotten, like the Arabs
in the ruins of Palmyra. Outside they knew that a fierce enemy roamed
the country; sometimes they could see a band of them on the southern
bank gazing curiously at the silent and deserted walls of the City. But
these warriors cared nothing for cities, and shuddered, suspecting
magic at the sight of the gray wall, and went away again.
One day, however, because nothing remains always undiscovered, there
came along the great Vicinal Way so tough and strong, on which the tooth
of Time gnawed in vain, a troop of East Saxons. They were an offshoot, a
late arrival, a small colony looking about if haply they could find or
conquer a convenient place of settlement not yet held by their own
people. They marched along the road, and presently saw before them the
gray walls of the City, with its gates and bastions. It was a city of
which they had heard--once full of people, now, like so many others, a
waste chester. It was of no use to them; they wanted a place convenient
for farming, not a place encumbered with ruins of houses; a place where
they could set up their village community and grow their crops and keep
their cattle. The first rush and fury of battle were now over. The East
Saxons were at peace, the enemy being either driven away or killed. A
single generation of comfort and prosperity had made the people milder
in temper. They desired no longer to fight and slay. What, however, if
they were to visit the City?
[Illustration: TOILET ARTICLES--HAIR-PINS; HAIR-PIN (SABINA, WIFE OF
HADRIAN); BONE COMB AND CASE (CLOAKHAM); BONE COMB (LOWER THAMES
STREET)]
The gate was closed. They blew their horns and called upon the people,
if there were any, to surrender. There was no answer. No arrow was shot
from the walls, not a stone was thrown, not a head was seen upon the
bastion. Then they plied their axes upon the crumbling wood until the
gate gave way and fell backward with a crash. Shouting, the men of Essex
ran forward. But they soon ceased to shout. Within they found a deserted
city; the walls of what had been stately villas stood in broad gardens,
but the houses were roofless, the pictured pavements were broken or
covered up, the fountains were choked, the walls were tottering. The
astonished warriors pressed forward. The ruined villas gave way to
crumbling remains of smaller houses standing close together. The streets
showed signs of traffic in deep ruts worn by the cart-wheels. Grass grew
between the stones. Here and there stood buildings larger than the
houses; they, too, were roofless, but over the lintels were carved
certain curious emblems--crosses and palm-branches, lambs, vine leaves,
and even fish--the meaning of which they understood not. Then the men
reached the river-side. Here there had also been a wall, but much of it
was broken down; and here they found certain circular huts thatched.
Within, the fire was still burning in the middle of the hut. There were
signs of hurried departure--the fish was still in the frying-pan, the
bed of dried leaves still warm. Where were the people?
They were gone. They had fled in affright. When they heard the shouts of
the Saxons, they gathered together their weapons and such things as they
could carry, and they fled. They passed out by the gate of that road
which their conquerors afterwards called Watling Street. Outside the
City they turned northward, and plunged for safety into the pathless
forest, whither the enemy would not follow.
When these Saxons found that the walled area contained nothing that was
of the least use to them they simply went away. They left it quite
alone, as they left the places which they called Pevensey, Silchester,
Porchester, and Richborough, and as they left many other waste chesters.
Then Augusta lay silent and dead for a space.
Presently the fugitives crept back and resumed their old life among the
ruins and died peacefully, and were followed by their children.
How, then, did London get settled again?
The times became peaceful: the tide of warfare rolled westward; there
were no more ships crossing with fresh invaders; there were no more
pirates hovering about the broad reaches of the Lower Thames. The
country round London on all sides--north, south, east, and west--was
settled and in tranquillity. The river was safe. Then a few merchants,
finding that the way was open, timidly ventured up the river with wares
such as might tempt those fair-haired savages. They went to the port of
which the memory survived. No one disputed with them the possession of
the grass-grown quays; there were no people, there was no market, there
were no buyers. They then sent messengers to the nearest settlements;
these--the first commercial travellers, the first gentlemen of the
road--showed spear-heads of the finest, swords of the stoutest,
beautiful helmets and fine shields, all to be had in exchange for wool
and hides. The people learned to trade, and London began to revive. The
rustics saw things that tempted them; new wants, new desires were
created in their minds. Some of them went into the town and admired its
life, how busy it was, how full of companionship; and they thought with
pity of the quiet country life and the long days all alone in the
fields; they desired to stay there; others saw the beauty of the arts,
and were attracted by natural aptitude to learn and practise them.
Others, quicker witted than the rest, perceived how by trade a man may
live without his own handiwork and by the labor of his brother man. No
discovery ever was made more important to the world than this great
fact. "You, my brother," said this discoverer, "shall continue to dig
and to toil, in hot weather or cold; your limbs shall stiffen and your
back shall be bent; I, for my part, will take your work and sell it in
places where it is wanted. My shoulders will not grow round, nor will my
back be bent. On the contrary, I shall walk jocund and erect, with a
laughing eye and a dancing leg, when you are long past laugh or
saraband. It is an excellent division of labor. To me the market, where
I shall sit at ease chaffering with my wares and jesting with my fellows
and feasting at night. To you the plough and the sickle and the flail.
An excellent division."
Then more merchants came, and yet more merchants, and the people began
to flock in from the country as they do now; and London--Augusta being
dead--set her children to work, making some rich, for an example and a
stimulus--else no one would work--and keeping the many poor--else there
would be no chance for the few to get rich. And she has kept them at
work ever since. So that it came to pass when Bishop Mellitus, first of
the bishops of London, came to his diocese in the year 604, he found it
once more a market and a port with a goodly trade and a crowd of ships
and a new people, proud, turbulent, and independent.
So began and so grew modern London.
[Illustration: STATUETTES: FOUND IN THAMES STREET, 1889 (_Guildhall_)]
To the old Rome it owes nothing, not so much as a tradition. Later, when
another kind of influence began, London learned much and took much from
Rome; but from Augusta--from Roman London--nothing. Roman traditions,
Roman speech, Roman superstitions linger yet among the southern
Spaniards, though the Moor conquered and held the country for six
hundred years. They linger, in spite of many conquests, in France, in
Italy (north and south), in Roumania, in Anatolia. In London alone, of
all the places which Imperial Rome made her own, and kept for hundreds
of years, no trace of ancient Rome remains. When London next hears of
the Eternal City it is Rome of the Christian Church.
Compare the conquest of London by the men of Essex with that of
Jerusalem by Titus. The latter conqueror utterly destroyed the city, and
drove out its people. One might have expected the silence of Silchester
or Pevensey. No, the people crept back by degrees; the old traditions
remained and still remain. Behind the monkish sites are those familiar
to the common people. Here is the old place of execution--the monks knew
nothing of that--here is the valley of Hinnom; here that of Kedron.
These memories have not died. But of the old Augusta nothing at all
remains. Not a single tradition was preserved by the scanty remnant of
slaves which survived the conquest; not a single name survives. All the
streets have been renamed--nay, their very course has been changed. The
literature of the City, which, like Bordeaux, had its poets and its
schools of rhetoric, has disappeared; it has vanished as completely as
that of Carthage. All the memories of four hundred years have gone;
there is nothing left but a few fragments of the old wall, and these
seem to contain but little of the Roman work: an old bath, part of the
course of an ancient street, and the fragment which we call London
Stone. Perhaps some portions of the Roman river-wall have been
unearthed, but this is uncertain.
One fact alone has been considered to suggest that some of the old Roman
buildings remained and were used again for their old purposes.
[Illustration: ROMAN AMPHORÆ]
In the oldest part of the City, that which lies along the river-bank,
the churches are mostly dedicated to the apostles. Those which stand
farther inland are dedicated to local and later saints--St. Dunstan, St.
Botolph, St. Osyth, St. Ethelburga, for instance. But among those along
the river are the churches of St. Peter, St. Paul, St. Mary, St.
Stephen, St. Michael. It is therefore suggested, but with hesitation,
that when the East Saxons took possession they found the Roman basilicas
still standing; that when they became converted they learned the
original purpose of their churches and the meaning of the emblems; that
they proceeded to rebuild them, preserving their dedications, and made
them their own churches. This may be so, but I do not think it at all
likely. It is possible, I say, but not probable.
You have heard the story how Augusta disappeared, and how the East
Saxons found it deserted, and how London was born, not the daughter of
Augusta at all. Augusta was childless.
_APPENDIX TO CHAPTER I_
The principal Roman buildings consisted of a bridge, a wall, a fort
at either end of this bridge, and two ports--Queenhithe and
Billingsgate. No one knows when the bridge was built: the wall was
not erected until some time between A.D. 350 and A.D. 369. At that
time the area enclosed by the wall was covered with villas and
gardens. The wall has been traced with certainty, and portions
either of the original wall or the mediæval repairs have been found
in many places, and may still be seen above-ground. The Roman
remains which have been dug up consist of mosaic pavements,
sepulchral cists, keys, toilet articles, lamps, fibulæ, amphoræ,
domestic things, and a few bronze statuettes. Nothing whatever has
been found to show that Augusta was ever a great city, in the sense
that Massilia, Ephesus, Bordeaux, or Alexandria was great.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] See _The Two Lost Centuries of Britain_, by W. H. Babcock.
Lippincott, Philadelphia, 1890; an excellent little work on this
subject.
II
SAXON AND NORMAN