Early Britain Anglo-Saxon Britain by Allen, Grant - CHAPTER XVI.

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Early Britain Anglo-Saxon Britain

CHAPTER XVI.

THE AU­GUS­TAN AGE AND THE LAT­ER AN­GLO-​SAX­ON CIVIL­ISA­TION.

The slight pause in the long course of Dan­ish war­fare which oc­curred dur­ing the vig­or­ous ad­min­is­tra­tion of Dun­stan, af­fords the best op­por­tu­ni­ty for con­sid­er­ing the de­gree of civil­isa­tion reached by the En­glish in the last age be­fore the Nor­man Con­quest. Our ma­te­ri­als for such an es­ti­mate are part­ly to be found in ex­ist­ing build­ings, manuscripts, pic­tures, or­na­ments, and oth­er archæo­log­ical re­mains, and part­ly in the doc­umen­tary ev­idence of the chron­icles and char­ters, and more es­pe­cial­ly of the great sur­vey un­der­tak­en by the Con­queror's com­mis­sion­ers, and known as Domes­day Book. From these sources we are en­abled to gain a fair­ly com­plete view of the An­glo-​Sax­on cul­ture in the pe­ri­od im­me­di­ate­ly pre­ced­ing the im­mense in­flux of Ro­mance civil­isa­tion af­ter the Con­quest; and though some such Ro­mance in­flu­ence was al­ready ex­ert­ed by the Nor­man­is­ing ten­den­cies of Ead­ward the Con­fes­sor, we may yet con­ve­nient­ly con­sid­er the whole sub­ject here un­der the age of Eadgar and Æthelred. It is dif­fi­cult, in­deed, to trace any very great im­prove­ment in the arts of life be­tween the days of Dun­stan and the days of Harold.

In spite of con­stant wars and rav­ages from the north­ern pi­rates, there can be lit­tle doubt that Eng­land had been slow­ly ad­vanc­ing in ma­te­ri­al civil­isa­tion ev­er since the in­tro­duc­tion of Chris­tian­ity. The hea­then in­ter­mix­ture in the North and the Mid­lands had re­tard­ed the ad­vance but had not com­plete­ly checked it; while in Wes­sex and the South the in­ter­course with the con­ti­nent and the con­se­quent growth in cul­ture had been steadi­ly in­creas­ing. Æthel­wulf of Wes­sex mar­ried a daugh­ter of Karl the Bald; Æl­fred gave his daugh­ter to a count of Flan­ders; and Ead­ward's princess­es were mar­ried re­spec­tive­ly to the em­per­or, to the king of France, and to the king of Provence. Such al­liances show a con­sid­er­able de­gree of in­ter­course be­tween Wes­sex and the Ro­man world; and the relics of ma­te­ri­al civil­isa­tion ful­ly bear out the in­fer­ence. The In­sti­tutes of the city of Lon­don men­tion traders from Bra­bant, Liège, Rouen, Pon­thieu, France (in the re­strict­ed sense), and the Em­pire; but these came “in their own ves­sels.” Eng­land, which now has in her hands the car­ry­ing trade of the world, was still de­pen­dent for her own sup­ply on for­eign bot­toms. We know al­so that of­fi­cers were ap­point­ed to col­lect tolls from for­eign mer­chants at Can­ter­bury, Dover, Arun­del, and many oth­er towns; and Lon­don and Bris­tol cer­tain­ly trad­ed on their own ac­count with the Con­ti­nent.

As a whole, how­ev­er, Eng­land still re­mained a pure­ly agri­cul­tur­al coun­try to the very end of the An­glo-​Sax­on pe­ri­od. It had but lit­tle for­eign trade, and what lit­tle ex­ist­ed was chiefly con­fined to im­ports of ar­ti­cles of lux­ury (wine, silk, spices, and artis­tic works) for the wealth­ier no­bles, and of ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal req­ui­sites, such as pic­tures, in­cense, relics, vest­ments, and like south­ern prod­ucts for the church­es and monas­ter­ies. The ex­ports seem main­ly to have con­sist­ed of slaves and wool, though hides may pos­si­bly have been sent out of the coun­try, and a lit­tle of the fa­mous En­glish gold-​work and em­broi­dery was per­haps sold abroad in re­turn for the few im­port­ed lux­uries. But tak­ing the coun­try at a glance, we must still pic­ture it to our­selves as com­posed al­most en­tire­ly of sep­arate agri­cul­tur­al manors, each now owned by a con­sid­er­able landown­er, and tilled main­ly by his churls, whose po­si­tion had sunk dur­ing the Dan­ish wars to that of se­mi-​servile ten­ants, ow­ing cus­tom­ary rents of labour to their su­pe­ri­ors. War had told against the in­de­pen­dence of the less­er freemen, who found them­selves com­pelled to choose them­selves pro­tec­tors among the high­er born class­es, till at last the the­ory be­came gen­er­al that ev­ery man must have a lord. The no­ble him­self lived up­on his manor, ac­cept­ed ser­vice from his churls in till­ing his own home­stead, and al­lowed them lands in re­turn in the out­ly­ing por­tions of his es­tates. His sources of in­come were two on­ly: first, the agri­cul­tur­al pro­duce of his lands, thus tilled for him by free labour and by the hands of his serfs; and sec­ond­ly, the breed­ing of slaves, shipped from the ports of Lon­don and Bris­tol for the mar­kets of the south. The ar­ti­sans de­pend­ed whol­ly up­on their lord, be­ing of­ten serfs, or else churls hold­ing on ser­vice-​tenure. The mass of Eng­land con­sist­ed of such manors, still large­ly in­ter­spersed with wood­land, each with the wood­en hall of its lord oc­cu­py­ing the cen­tre of the home­stead, and with the huts of the churls and serfs among the hays and val­leys of the out­skirts. The but­ter and cheese, bread and ba­con, were made at home; the corn was ground in the quern; the beer was brewed and the hon­ey col­lect­ed by the fam­ily. The spin­ner and weaver, the shoe­mak­er, smith, and car­pen­ter, were all parts of the house­hold. Thus ev­ery manor was whol­ly self-​suf­fic­ing and self-​sus­tain­ing, and towns were ren­dered al­most un­nec­es­sary.

Forests and heaths still al­so cov­ered about half the sur­face. These were now the hunt­ing-​grounds of the kings and no­bles, while in the leys, hursts, and dens, small groups of huts gave shel­ter to the swine­herds and wood­wards who had charge of their lord's prop­er­ty in the wood­lands. The great tree-​cov­ered re­gion of Sel­wood still di­vid­ed Wes­sex in­to two halves; the for­est of the Chilterns still spread close to the walls of Lon­don; the Peak­land was still over­grown by an in­ac­ces­si­ble thick­et; and the long cen­tral ridge be­tween York­shire and Scot­land was still shad­owed by primæ­val oaks, pinewoods, and beech­es. Agri­cul­ture con­tin­ued to be con­fined to the al­lu­vial bot­toms, and had nowhere as yet in­vad­ed the up­lands, or even the stiffer and dri­er low­land re­gions, such as the Weald of Kent or the forests of Ar­den and El­met.

On­ly two el­ements broke the monotony of these self-​suf­fic­ing agri­cul­tur­al com­mu­ni­ties. Those el­ements were the monas­ter­ies and the towns.

A large part of the soil of Eng­land was owned by the monks. They now pos­sessed con­sid­er­able build­ings, with stone church­es of some pre­ten­sions, in which ser­vice was con­duct­ed with pomp and im­pres­sive­ness. The tiny chapel of St. Lawrence, at Brad­ford-​on-​Avon, forms the best ex­am­ple of this prim­itive Ro­manesque ar­chi­tec­ture now sur­viv­ing in Eng­land. Around the monas­ter­ies stretched their well-​tilled lands, most­ly re­claimed from fen or for­est, and prob­ably more sci­en­tif­ical­ly cul­ti­vat­ed than those of the neigh­bour­ing manors. Most of the monks were skilled in civilised hand­icrafts, in­tro­duced from the more cul­ti­vat­ed con­ti­nent. They were ex­cel­lent ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal met­al­work­ers; many of them were ar­chi­tects, who built in rude im­ita­tion of Ro­manesque mod­els; and oth­ers were de­sign­ers or il­lu­mi­na­tors of manuscripts. The books and char­ters of this age are del­icate­ly and minute­ly wrought out, though not with all the artis­tic elab­ora­tion of lat­er mediæ­val work. The art of paint­ing (al­most al­ways in minia­ture) was con­sid­er­ably ad­vanced, the fig­ures be­ing well drawn, in rather stiff but not un­life­like at­ti­tudes, though per­spec­tive is very im­per­fect­ly un­der­stood, and hard­ly ev­er at­tempt­ed. Lat­er An­glo-​Sax­on ar­chi­tec­ture, such as that of Ead­ward's mag­nif­icent abbey church at West­min­ster (af­ter­wards de­stroyed by Hen­ry III. to make way for his own build­ing), was not in­fe­ri­or to con­ti­nen­tal work­man­ship. All the arts prac­tised in the abbeys were of di­rect Ro­man ori­gin, and most of the words re­lat­ing to them are im­me­di­ate­ly de­rived from the Latin. This is the case even with terms re­lat­ing to such com­mon ob­jects as _can­dle_, _pen_, _wine_, and _oil_. Names of weights, mea­sures, coins, and oth­er ex­act quan­ti­ta­tive ideas are al­so de­rived from Ro­man sources. Car­pen­ters, smiths, bak­ers, tan­ners, and millers, were usu­al­ly at­tached to the abbeys. Thus, in many cas­es, as at Glas­ton­bury, Pe­ter­bor­ough, Ripon, Bev­er­ley, and Bury St. Ed­munds, the monastery grew in­to the nu­cle­us of a con­sid­er­able town, though the de­vel­op­ment of such towns is more marked af­ter than be­fore the Nor­man Con­quest. As a whole, it was by means of the monas­ter­ies, and es­pe­cial­ly of their con­stant in­ter­change of in­mates with the con­ti­nent, that Eng­land main­ly kept up the touch with the south­ern civil­isa­tion. There alone was Latin, the uni­ver­sal medi­um of con­ti­nen­tal in­ter­com­mu­ni­ca­tion, taught and spo­ken. There alone were books writ­ten, pre­served, and read. Through the Church alone was an or­gan­isa­tion kept up in di­rect com­mu­ni­ca­tion with the cen­tral civil­is­ing agen­cies of Italy and the south. And while the Church and the monas­ter­ies thus pre­served the con­nec­tion with the con­ti­nent, they al­so formed schools of cul­ture and of in­dus­tri­al arts for the coun­try it­self. At the abbeys bells were cast, glass man­ufac­tured, build­ings de­signed, gold and sil­ver or­na­ments wrought, jew­els enam­elled, and un­skilled labour or­gan­ised by the most trained in­tel­li­gence of the land. They thus re­mained as they had be­gun, homes and re­treats for those ex­cep­tion­al minds which were ca­pa­ble of car­ry­ing on the arts and the knowl­edge of a dy­ing civil­isa­tion across the gulf of preda­to­ry bar­barism which sep­arates the ar­ti­fi­cial cul­ture of Rome from the in­dus­tri­al cul­ture of mod­ern Eu­rope.

The towns were few and rel­ative­ly unim­por­tant, built en­tire­ly of wood (ex­cept the church­es), and very li­able to be burnt down on the least ex­cuse. In con­sid­er­ing them we must dis­miss from our minds the ideas de­rived from our own great and com­plex or­gan­isa­tion, and bring our­selves men­tal­ly in­to the at­ti­tude of a sim­ple agri­cul­tur­al peo­ple, re­quir­ing lit­tle be­yond what was pro­duced on each man's own farm or pet­ty hold­ing. Such peo­ple are main­ly fed from their own corn and meat, main­ly clad from their own home­spun wool and linen. A lit­tle spe­cial­isa­tion of func­tion, how­ev­er, al­ready ex­ist­ed. Salt was pro­cured from the wyches or pans of the coast, and al­so from the in­land wyches or brine wells of Cheshire and the mid­land coun­ties. Such names as Nantwich, Mid­dlewych, Bromwich, and Droitwich, still pre­serve the mem­ory of these ear­ly salt­works. Iron was mined in the For­est of Dean, around Al­ces­ter, and in the Som­er­set­shire dis­trict. The city of Glouces­ter had six smiths' forges in the days of Ead­ward the Con­fes­sor, and paid its tax to the king in iron rods. Lead was found in Der­byshire, and was large­ly em­ployed for roof­ing church­es. Cloth-​weav­ing was spe­cial­ly car­ried on at Stam­ford; but as a rule it is prob­able that ev­ery dis­trict sup­plied its own cloth­ing. En­glish mer­chants at­tend­ed the great fair at St. Denys, in France, much as those of Cen­tral Asia now at­tend the fair at Kan­da­har; and mad­der seems to have been bought there for dye­ing cloth. In Kent, Sus­sex, and East An­glia, her­ring fish­eries al­ready pro­duced con­sid­er­able re­sults. With these few ex­cep­tions, all the towns were ap­par­ent­ly mere lo­cal cen­tres of ex­change for pro­duce, and small man­ufac­tured wares, like the larg­er vil­lages or bazaars of In­dia in our own time. Nev­er­the­less, there was a dis­tinct ad­vance to­wards ur­ban life in the lat­er An­glo-​Sax­on pe­ri­od. Bæ­da men­tions very few towns, and most of those were waste. By the date of the Con­quest there were many, and their func­tions were such as be­fit­ted a more di­ver­si­fied na­tion­al life. Com­mu­ni­ca­tions had be­come far greater; and arts or trade had now to some ex­tent spe­cialised them­selves in spe­cial places.

A list of the chief ear­ly En­glish towns may pos­si­bly seem to give too much im­por­tance to these very mi­nor el­ements of En­glish life; yet one may, per­haps, be ap­pend­ed with due pre­cau­tion against mis­ap­pre­hen­sion.

The cap­ital, if any place de­served to be so called un­der the per­am­bu­lat­ing ear­ly En­glish dy­nasty, was Winch­ester (Win­tan-​ceast­er), with its old and new min­sters, con­tain­ing the tombs of the West-​Sax­on kings. It pos­sessed a large num­ber of crafts­men, doubt­less de­pen­dant ul­ti­mate­ly up­on the court; and it was rel­ative­ly a place of far greater im­por­tance than at any lat­er date.

The chief ports were Lon­don (Lun­den­byrig), sit­uat­ed at the head of tidal nav­iga­tion on the Thames; and Bris­tol (Bricgestow) and Glouces­ter (Gleawan-​ceast­er), sim­ilar­ly placed on the Avon and Sev­ern. These towns were con­ve­nient for ear­ly ship­ping be­cause of their tidal po­si­tion, at an age when ar­ti­fi­cial har­bours were un­known; They were the seat of the ex­port traf­fic in slaves and the im­port traf­fic in con­ti­nen­tal goods. Be­fore Æl­fred's reign the car­ry­ing trade by sea seems to have been in the hands of the Frisian skip­pers and slave-​deal­ers, who stood to the En­glish in the same re­la­tion as the Arabs now stand to the East African and Cen­tral African ne­groes; but af­ter the in­creased at­ten­tion paid to ship­build­ing dur­ing the strug­gle with the Danes, En­glish ves­sels be­gan to en­gage in trade on their own ac­count. Lon­don must al­ready have been the largest and rich­est town in the king­dom. Even in Bæ­da's time it was “the mart of many na­tions, re­sort­ing to it by sea and land.” It seems, in­deed, to have been a sort of mer­chant com­mon­wealth, gov­erned by its own port reeve, and it made its own dooms, which have been pre­served to the present day. From the Ro­man time on­ward, the po­si­tion of Lon­don as a great free com­mer­cial town was prob­ably un­in­ter­rupt­ed.

York (Eo­for­wic), the cap­ital of the North, had its own arch­bish­op and its Dan­ish in­ter­nal or­gan­isa­tion. It seems to have been al­ways an im­por­tant and con­sid­er­able town, and it doubt­less pos­sessed the same large body of hand­icrafts­men as Winch­ester. Dur­ing the doubt­ful pe­ri­od of Dan­ish and En­glish strug­gles, the arch­bish­op ap­par­ent­ly ex­er­cised quasi-​roy­al au­thor­ity over the En­glish burghers them­selves.

Among the cathe­dral towns the most im­por­tant were Can­ter­bury (Cant-​wara-​byrig), the old cap­ital of Kent and metropo­lis of all Eng­land, which seems to have con­tained a rel­ative­ly large trad­ing pop­ula­tion; Dorch­ester, in Ox­ford­shire, first the roy­al city of the West Sax­ons, and af­ter­wards the seat of the ex­iled bish­opric of Lin­coln; Rochester (Hro­fes-​ceast­er), the old cap­ital of the West Kent­ings, and seat of their bish­op: and Worces­ter (Wig­or­na-​ceast­er), the chief town of the Huiccii. Of the monas­tic towns the chief were Pe­ter­bor­ough (Burh), Ely (Elig), and Glas­ton­bury (Glæstingabyrig). Bath, Ames­bury, Colch­ester, Lin­coln, Chester, and oth­er towns of Ro­man ori­gin were al­so im­por­tant. Ex­eter, the old cap­ital of the West Welsh, sit­uat­ed at the tidal head of the Exe, had con­sid­er­able trade. Ox­ford was a place of traf­fic and a for­ti­fied town. Hast­ings, Dover, and the oth­er south-​coast ports had some com­mu­ni­ca­tions with France. The on­ly oth­er places of any note were Chip­pen­ham, Bens­ing­ton, and Ayles­bury; Northamp­ton and Southamp­ton; Bam­bor­ough; the for­ti­fied posts built by Ead­ward and Æthelflæd; and the Dan­ish bor­oughs of Bed­ford, Der­by, Le­ices­ter, Stam­ford, Not­ting­ham, and Hunt­ing­don. The Wite­na-​gemots and the syn­ods took place in any town, ir­re­spec­tive of size, ac­cord­ing to roy­al con­ve­nience. But as ear­ly as the days of Cnut, Lon­don was be­gin­ning to be felt as the re­al cen­tre of na­tion­al life: and Ead­ward the Con­fes­sor, by found­ing West­min­ster Abbey, made it prac­ti­cal­ly the home of the kings. The Con­queror “wore his crown on East­er­tide at Winch­ester; on Pen­te­cost at West­min­ster; and on Mid­win­ter at Glouces­ter:” which prob­ably marks the rel­ative po­si­tion of the three towns as the chief places in the old West Sax­on realm at least. Un­der Æthel­stan, Lon­don had eight mon­ey­ers or mint-​mas­ters, while Winch­ester had on­ly six, and Can­ter­bury sev­en.

As re­gards the arts and traf­fic in the towns, they were chiefly car­ried on by guilds, which had their ori­gin, as Dr. Brentano has shown with great prob­abil­ity, in sep­arate fam­ilies, who com­bined to keep up their own trade se­crets as a fam­ily af­fair. In time, how­ev­er, the guilds grew in­to reg­ular or­gan­isa­tions, hav­ing their own code of rules and laws, many of which (as at Cam­bridge, Ex­eter, and Ab­bots­bury) we still pos­sess. It is pos­si­ble that the fam­ilies of crafts­men may at first have been Ro­man­ised Welsh in­hab­itants of the cities; for all the old­er towns–Lon­don, Can­ter­bury, York, Lin­coln, and Rochester–were al­most cer­tain­ly in­hab­it­ed with­out in­ter­rup­tion from the Ro­man pe­ri­od on­ward. But in any case the guilds seem to have grown out of fam­ily com­pacts, and to have re­tained al­ways the char­ac­ter of close cor­po­ra­tions. There must have been con­sid­er­able di­vi­sion of the var­ious trades even be­fore the Con­quest, and each trade must have in­hab­it­ed a sep­arate quar­ter; for we find at Winch­ester, or else­where, in the reign of Æthelred, Fell­mon­ger, Horse­mon­ger, Flesh­mon­ger, Shield­wright, Shoewright, Turn­er, and Salter Streets.

The ex­act amount of the pop­ula­tion of Eng­land can­not be as­cer­tained, even ap­prox­imate­ly; but we may ob­tain a rough ap­prox­ima­tion from the es­ti­mates based up­on Domes­day Book. It seems prob­able that at the end of the Con­queror's reign, Eng­land con­tained 1,800,000 souls. Al­low­ing for the large num­ber of per­sons in­tro­duced at the Con­quest, and for the nat­ural in­crease dur­ing the un­usu­al peace in the reigns of Cnut, of Ead­ward the Con­fes­sor, and, above all, of William him­self, we may guess that it could not have con­tained more than a mil­lion and a quar­ter in the days of Eadgar. Lon­don may have had a pop­ula­tion of some 10,000; Winch­ester and York of 5,000 each; cer­tain­ly that of York at the date of Domes­day could not have ex­ceed­ed 7,000 per­sons, and we know that it con­tained 1,800 hous­es in the time of Ead­ward the Con­fes­sor.

The or­gan­isa­tion of the coun­try con­tin­ued on the lines of the old con­sti­tu­tion. But the im­por­tance of the sim­ple free­man had now quite died out, and the gemot was rather a meet­ing of the earls, bish­ops, ab­bots, and wealthy land­hold­ers, than a re­al as­sem­bly of the peo­ple. The sub-​di­vi­sions of the king­dom were now pret­ty gen­er­al­ly con­ter­mi­nous with the mod­ern coun­ties. In Wes­sex and the east the coun­ties are ei­ther old­er king­doms, like Kent, Sus­sex, and Es­sex; or else trib­al di­vi­sions of the king­dom, like Dorset, Som­er­set, Nor­folk, Suf­folk, and Sur­rey. In Mer­cia, the re­cov­ered coun­try is ar­ti­fi­cial­ly mapped out round the chief Dan­ish burgs, as in the case of Der­byshire, Not­ting­hamshire, Bed­ford­shire, Northamp­ton­shire, and Le­ices­ter­shire, where the coun­ty town usu­al­ly oc­cu­pies the cen­tre of the ar­bi­trary shire. In Northum­bria it is di­vid­ed in­to equal­ly ar­ti­fi­cial coun­ties by the rivers. Be­neath the coun­ties stood the old­er or­gan­isa­tion of the hun­dred, and be­neath that again the prim­itive unit of the town­ship, known on its ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal side as the parish. In the reign of Eadgar, Eng­land seems to have con­tained about 3,000 parish church­es.