For centuries there was no England, only rival kings, burning villages, and shifting borders.

Mercia fought Northumbria; Wessex fought Mercia; pagan raiders struck from the sea while Christian monks prayed for survival.

Yet a crisis within this fractured and violent world made a single kingdom emerge victorious, and with it, the first idea of England.

Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More. As I explained in my last newsletter, I have taken some time away from Substack to work out what to do after being made redundant. Despite that issue remaining unresolved, we are back and carrying on with where we left off.

Last History Wednesday article was a brief history of each of the seven kingdoms (Heptarchy) of England during the Anglo-Saxon period. And this week we are going to see how these went from seven divided kingdoms into one England.

The Heptarchy

It is worth reminding ourselves at the start that the Heptarchy was not a stable political unit. Although there were times when a Bretwalda overlorded all the other kingdoms, rivalries were deeply held and fiercely fought over.

The borders of each kingdom changed drastically over the centuries, and smaller kingdoms became puppet states of their neighbours, or were subsumed altogether.

If you were an Anglo-Saxon peasant living on one of those borders, life was tense. The threat of a horde of soldiers raiding into your village and killing your loved ones was an ever-present reality.

Although the Heptarchy had within it the seeds of England, it was not yet England, and the formation of such a country was not guaranteed.

Or was it? What do you think? Was it inevitable that the kingdoms of England would unite? Let me know below in the comments.

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Why unity was difficult

Initially, the kingdoms were divided among racial/cultural lines. Some kingdoms were Saxon, others were Angles or Jutes, and whilst after a few generations the importance of this diminished, kings still traced their authority and lineage back to those first invaders.

Furthermore, whilst paganism had mostly disappeared and the kingdoms were united by Christianity, there were still patches or outbursts of return to paganism and syncretism well into the eighth century. And in some places, these church systems, although united by Rome, operated independently of one another.

Finally, each kingdom had its own laws, traditions, and histories. It can be hard to imagine today as they all seem fairly similar to us, but many people (at least in nobility) were patriotic about their kingdoms and were willing to fight and die for them.

For a long time, Mercia was the dominant kingdom, and a kingdom like Wessex was very much in its shadow. In the north, Northumbria was undergoing something of a monastic golden age of learning and scholarship that set it apart from the others. Meanwhile a kingdom like Kent was continental facing, less troubled by the warring of its neighbours.

At this time, kingdoms looked after themselves and fought for dominance. Nobody was trying to create an ‘England’, they were just trying to come out on top. Other than amongst a few writers such as Bede, the idea that the Anglo-Saxons were/could be one people called ‘English’ was as yet unthought of.

The Nordic shift

So why did that change?

We will talk about this in more detail next newsletter, but the Viking raid on Lindisfarne changed everything.

On June 8^th 793 a small Viking raiding party from Scandinavia arrived on the island monastery of Lindisfarne, sacking it, killing its monks, and burning its buildings. This small attack on the heartland of northern Christianity represented something much bigger – the time of the Vikings had arrived.

Over the next century or so the Vikings began to make headway into England, particularly with the arrival of the Great Heathen army in 865. In time, the Vikings took vast parts of Northumbria, making the ancient city of Eboracum their capital and renaming it Jorvik (York).

They established the Danelaw, a Viking kingdom on English soil, under its own laws, rituals, and governance. In East Anglia, the river ways allowed them to penetrate deeply into the kingdom, and it’s capital of Thetford fell shortly after the Great Heathen army’s arrival.

A unifying enemy

It is well known in psychology and warfare that a potent enemy has the power to unite where there is division, and the Vikings certainly were a potent enemy.

With the threat in the north and the east growing by the day, and more Vikings arriving and settling on English soil, what remained of the diminished heptarchy had to put aside its difference and unite to face this foe. After centuries of dynastic fighting, there was now something bigger to fight for.

This is a very simplified version of what happened, and there were still many divisions and squabbles along the way, but the Viking threat did work to eventually unite the Christian Anglo-Saxon kingdoms against its pagan foe in war for God and the very existence of England.

But once again, even now, the vision of England was not a given. The Vikings could have been successful. Today, we could be speaking a variant of Scandinavian and have closer ties with the Nordic countries rather France and Germany – indeed, many places in the north of England still bear the names and town of the Danelaw.

What can men do against such reckless hate?

To use a quote from King Theoden in LOTR, fear at the Viking’s seemingly ‘reckless hate’ is truly how the Anglo-Saxons felt towards their new neighbours.

There was no shortage of brutality amongst the Anglo-Saxons, but the pagan ways, rumours of human sacrifice, and worship of war amongst the Vikings made them a terrifying force. Their belief in a warrior’s death earning them a place in Valhalla made them particularly ferocious warriors and fighting them must have been a horrifying experience.

But Wessex answered the call, and with it, one of the most important figures in English history.

As I say, we will break this down in more detail over the next few newsletters (this newsletter is just giving a broad overview to set the stage), but in Wessex the idea of England had begun to form.

And at the centre of that story stands one man – Alfred of Wessex.

Alfred had a big dream of an England united into one kingdom, stretching up to Scotland and to the sea in the east, that could push back the Vikings once and for all – and maybe even Christianise them in the process.

Although Alfred would not fully realise his dream, his son Athelstan would go on to be the first king of England.

Next week we will go back and break down some of these aspects in more detail starting with the Viking raid on Lindisfarne and what it meant to the people of Northumbria before moving onto the Great Heathen army, the Danelaw, and the dominance of Wessex.

As ever, if you have enjoyed this today, why not share it with someone you know is interested in history? You can do that here.

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Have a great week.

Tom

Image Credits:

Title Image – Vikings – https://archaeology.org/issues/march-april-2018/features/viking-great-army/

Anglo-Saxon reenactors – https://www.birminghammail.co.uk/news/midlands-news/gallery/anglo-saxon-warriors-launch-new-7955105

The sack of Lindisfarne – https://larryvienneauprints.blogspot.com/2018/06/the-raven-and-viking-raid-on-lindisfarne.html

The Danelaw – https://schoolhistory.co.uk/ancient-world/the-danelaw/

Theoden – https://screenrant.com/lord-of-the-rings-what-your-favorite-character-says-about-you/

Alfred the Great – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cultural_depictions_of_Alfred_the_Great

Imagine a land with no England. No single king. No united people.

Instead, seven rival kingdoms – each with its own ruler, its own ambitions, and its own claim to power.

No, it’s not Game of Thrones, this was Britain in the centuries after the Anglo-Saxon arrival: not a nation, but a battleground. And yet, from this chaos, England would emerge.

Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More. Last time, we imagined a Britain where the Anglo-Saxons never came. This week, we return to reality – a far more violent story – because the Anglo-Saxons did come. And what they built was not one kingdom, but many.

The Heptarchy of England

I have mentioned ‘heptarchy’ several times in recent articles. So, before we explore the kingdoms, let’s examine this word and whether it’s accurate.

Heptarchy means ‘rule of seven’. Prior to the unification efforts by Alfred and Æthelstan (which we will get to), England was seven separate kingdoms, normally vying for land and power from the others.

Well, sort of. The reality is a lot more fluid, and much messier.

There were actually more than seven kingdoms, and this also discounts Cornwall which was still Brittonic and closely aligned with the Welsh Kingdoms. Also, at least early on, there were other smaller kingdoms too such as Hwicce and Middle-Anglia. However, since these were often puppet kingdoms, and eventually subsumed into the larger seven kingdoms, we tend to overlook these – but they do have interesting histories of their own.

Finally, I am saying that these kingdoms were not unified, but this isn’t entirely true either. There was a semi-official position known as Bretwalda – king above kings.

The Bretwalda was normally the king of the most powerful and influential kingdom at the time, and often held considerable sway over other kingdoms. One such example we have already seen is Æthelberht of Kent, who was Bretwalda at the time of the Augustinian mission, and as such had sway over the kingdom of Essex allowing for Mellitus to preach there.

However, as I say, for our purposes today we are going to stick to the seven major kingdoms. So let’s begin as the Anglo-Saxon raiding parties did, with Kent.

Kingdom of Kent – the gateway to Europe

Kent was not a particularly large kingdom, but it was a powerful kingdom early on, with good trade connections to the continent due to its proximity.

It was initially founded by the Jutes when, as Gildas tells us, Hengist and Horsa arrived there with three boats of warriors. By the Augustinian mission in 597, it had become a well-functioning kingdom and was the first in England to convert to Christianity.

Although it was eventually absorbed, Kent, and particularly its capital at Canterbury, retained an importance in England as the seat of Christianity and the home of the primate of England – the Archbishop of Canterbury. But if Kent was the gateway, Wessex was the citadel.

Kingdom of Wessex – the would-be England

Wessex was a major player in early English history, eventually becoming the preeminent kingdom under Alfred the Great, and the unifier of the heptarchy.

As the name implies, Wessex was founded by Saxons, and tradition holds that it too was founded by two invaders – called Cerdic and Cynric. These warriors travelled up the Southampton estuary with five boats and defeated the Britons in 495. Alfred himself claimed direct descent from these rulers.

As for its conversion to Christianity, although Liudhard and Augustine in Kent may have played a role, its conversion is typically attributed to Birinus in 630s. Birinus was sent by Pope Honorius II to Wessex, and eventually baptised King Cynegils leading to the conversion of his kingdom.

There were some relapses into paganism such as under King Cædwalla, but even he seems to have eventually converted as Bede records him as having abdicated to go on pilgrimage to Rome after becoming Christian thanks to Bishop Wilfrid in the late 600s.

Kingdom of Sussex – the tiny one

Sussex, like Wessex, was a kingdom of Saxons – south Saxons in this case. Tradition claims that the Britons of the area were defeated by the Saxon King Ælla and three boats of warriors in 477, and subsequent kings of Sussex would claim descent from him.

As the smallest kingdom of the Heptarchy, Sussex was vulnerable, and became a sub-kingdom of Wessex after the defeat of Æthelwealh in 688. Overtime it changed hands between Mercia and Wessex until its complete absorption into the latter by King Egbert in 825.

Wilfrid is often given credit for the converion of Sussex c.680, and the founding of the See of Selsey there. However, given their proximity to other Christian kingdoms, there is some debate over the extent of Wilfrid’s influence.

Kingdom of Essex – the almost forgotten

Essex was another Saxon kingdom, but little has been written about it as it was a puppet state for most of its history. London, its captial, whilst important, was not the major city it is today (Winchester, Canterbury, and York were more prominent), but it did hold strategic and religious importance.

It was eventually subsumed into Mercia in the mid-700s, and from there, into Wessex in 829. As such, it remains a somewhat overlooked kingdom.

We do, however, know how it was converted, and have discussed this before. Due to Æthelberht’s sway over Essex, Augustine and Gregory were able to send Mellitus to convert the kingdom, which he did, becoming the first Bishop of London. Like much of England, there had been Christianity in the area prior to the Anglo-Saxon arrival – in this case amongst the Brittonic Trinovantes and the Romans at Colchester – but (re)conversion as needed in the time of the Anglo-Saxons.

If you had lived in this period, which kingdom would you have chosen to belong to, and why? Let me know in the comments.

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Kingdom of East Anglia – pagan or Christian?

Although East Anglia today is sometimes seen as a farming backwater or holiday destination, it was once a very powerful kingdom of the Angles. Sadly, our knowledge of its history is limited as its records were destroyed by Viking raids in the ninth-century.

Roger of Wendover tells us that the kingdom was likely established under King Wuffa in 571. However, whether Wuffa came from the Germanic Angles who had arrived in the fifth century, or his family were part of the Swedish monarchy who (according to Beowulf) fled Scandinavia in sixth-century, is unknown. Whatever the case, it is from Wuffa that the East Anglian kings claimed their kingship, and they became known as Wuffingas.

Perhaps the most famous aspect of East Anglia is the amazing burials at Sutton Hoo, where the main mound is thought to be for King Rædwald, who had overthrown Kentish influence and become Bretwalda at Æthelberht’s death in 616.

Like many in Anglo-Saxon England, Rædwald’s Christianity fluctuated over his life, as it did for his kingdom. Although he was likely baptized at Æthelberht’s behest by Augustine in c.604, he reverted to paganism and, if the burial mound at Sutton Hoo is his, died pagan (judging by the burial objects found).

However, Christianity returned to East Anglia through his sons and eventually Sigbert, who allowed St Felix to establish a See at Dunwich in the early to mid-600s. Sigbert eventually renounced his throne to live a monastic life, to his cousin Anna, father of St Ætheldreda of Ely to whom we shall return in time.

Kingdom of Mercia – the brutal powerhouse

Mercia was one of the most powerful kingdoms of the Heptarchy, and its name derives from merce or ‘people of the boundaries’ (due to its border with Wales and Northumbria), but it was a kingdom of Angles. Despite its power, it was taken over by Wessex in 829, likely due to being weakened by Viking attacks.

Little is known about the origins of the kingdom, and its king lists don’t seem to give a clear founder. Given this confusion, many king lists begin with King Penda (c.633-55) who expanded Mercia and may have been Bretwalda at the time.

We do know, however, that Mercia was converted under Penda’s son Wulfhere (658-75) who had become Christian. His faith opened the door for missionaries to enter the kingdom, and the eventual founding of the See at Lichfield. St Chad may have also played a substantial role in the conversion of Mercia, and is credited by the likes of Bede. Wulfhere’s brother, who ascended the throne, allowed the construction of many monasteries before his own abdication to become a monk in the late 600s.

Worthy of brief mention here also is King Offa, who would construct Offa’s dyke, acting as a defensive border between Wales and England for centuries to come. But further north, a different story was unfolding.

Kingdom of Northumbria – the home of Lindisfarne

Northumbria is named for being ‘North of the Humber River’, and it is unique in that it was not initially Anglo-Saxon, but Brittonic. It had a turbulent history as it was originally two kingdoms, Bernicia and Deira (both named after Brittonic tribes). Despite the Brittonic tribes being overthrown by the Angles, it retained a Brittonic heritage not found in other kingdoms. This may explain some modern North/South differences in England, and played a role in how it was converted.

Ælla was Deira’s first notable king, but it is likely he inherited his throne from his father Yffa, and grandfather Wuscfrea. Ælla became king around the time of the Augustinian mission. Bernicia’s first king, on the other hand, was Ida, but his grandfather, Oessa, may have been the one to establish the kingdom.

Unification occurred under King Æthelfrith of Bernicia (592-616), who took Deira and banished Ælla’s son Edwin, who sought refuge in Rædwald’s East Anglia. It is likely there that, after Rædwald’s death, he converted to Christianity. He eventually retook Northumbria, but it re-divided again after his death at the Battle of Hatfield Chase against Cadwallon of Gwynedd and Penda of Mercia. This also led to Bernicia and Deira’s return to paganism.

Christianity returned to Northumbria when the Christian King Oswald returned from exile in Dalriada, requesting that the Celtic Christians on Iona send him a bishop. St Aiden was sent, and he established the important monastery of Lindisfarne from whence Northumbria was converted. However, the conversion of the north by Celtic missionaries, and of the south by Latin missionaries, would lead to problems between the two Churches. In particular with the Latin missionary Paulinus’ arrival in the Northumbria c.625 who became the first Bishop of York.

True Northumbrian unification didn’t come until after Oswald however, possibly in the time of Bede, and it may have even been Bede who first came up with the designation ‘Northumbria’ for this new kingdom.

What do you think? Which kingdom seems the most powerful to you?

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What does this mean for us?

Whilst this can seem detailed and complicated, it points to one salient point – the origin of England was not straightforward.

The England we know today was not inevitable, it was fought over and bloody in its founding.

We haven’t even got to the Vikings or Alfred yet, but the history of the Heptarchy is an important time in English history that should not be overlooked if we want to discover the story of who we are, and what ‘England’ really means.

Do you think England was destined to unite – or could these kingdoms have remained divided forever? Let me know down below.

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Next week we will look in more detail at why this Heptarchy matters. Because from this fractured, violent world, one kingdom would rise – and begin the long, unlikely process of becoming England.

Have a great week.

Tom

If this article has helped you understand English history better, even a little, share it with someone who you is interested in history! It would really help this Substack each more people.

Image Credits:

Title Image – Heptarchy Map – https://www.wellandantiquemaps.co.uk/product/englalond-anglia-anglosaxonum-heptarchia-by-william-hole-1607-1610/

Imagine landing in Britain in the year 800. You hear no English spoken. Instead, the language sounds closer to Welsh or Breton. The towns still bear traces of Rome, and the kings trace their lineage not to Hengist or Horsa, but to the old Romano-British elite.

There is no ‘England’ – no land of the Angles. Only Britain.

No English language. No English people.

This is not fantasy for its own sake, but a serious historical question – what if the Anglo-Saxons had never come?

Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More. It’s been two weeks since our last newsletter as I decided a well-earned break was needed before Easter to refresh and realign.

In our last article we discussed whether the Anglo-Saxon invasion of Britain really was a genocide, replacement, or an integration. We saw that whilst the fate of many Romano-Britons was fleeing to Celtic lands, or being killed, new genetic evidence suggests that over time there was inter-marriage and integration, resulting in the birth of a new people – what Bede would come to call ‘English’.

This week we are asking a more speculative question, which is – what if the Anglo-Saxons had never arrived in the first place? What would England look like today? Would it even be England?

The possibility

The question is worth asking because it is not beyond the realms of possibility that the Anglo-Saxons may not have arrived. Or, arrived in negligible numbers or with negligible cultural impact.

We know that prior to their invasion, there were small settlements of Anglo-Saxons on British soil, and trading links between the two worlds. Perhaps things could have stayed at this level?

What we have seen in our previous discussions is that the shift caused by the Anglo-Saxons was radical – a complete change of language, religion, and culture. But it didn’t have to be this way. Another option is that the Anglo-Saxons could have been repelled altogether.

Gildas tells us that the Anglo-Saxons came to England on the invitation of the tyrant King Vortigern to help defend against the Scotti from Ireland and the Picts from Scotland who were raiding into Britain, but what if this had never happened?

What if, like in the legend of Arthur, there had been many defenders of Britain such that the Anglo-Saxons, Scotti, and Picts were all repelled. A Britain that created a strong and fearsome standing army to defend its lands from pirates, with or without Roman aid.

History did not go this way, but it is possible that it could have. Which begs an important question – had this all come to pass differently, and Britain remained in its post-Roman state, what might it look like today?

First, to the geography and land

It is firstly important to remember what Britain looked like in the fifth century before the arrival of the Anglo-Saxons.

Wales had been subdued by the Romans, but life there continued, particularly after the Roman withdrawal, in the Celtic ways it had for centuries. Whilst there were new forts and roads, life in Wales continued to look Brittonic.

The same is true for much of what is today, England. Whilst it had Romanised cities and roads, the countryside was still very Brittonic. What we have across the area of modern Wales and England then is one continuous culture that had centres of Romanisation, but was predominantly still Celto-Brittonic (with some tribal differences).

Many of these people had been Christianised, but Celtic religions still flourished in the groves, valleys, mountains, and forests of the countryside. However, it is likely that in time, just as with Ireland, all of these people would have been Christianised.

Cornwall remained somewhat isolated. It had held out against Roman invasion and remained an independent Celto-Brittonic state, but had good trading links with the Roman Empire on the Continent.

In Ireland and Scotland, there were a series of Scotti and Pictish kingdoms, about which we know very little, but a dominant force was the kingdom of Dal Raida which covered Northern Ireland and Southwestern Scotland into the North of England.

So, in many respects, if one fuses England and Wales into one country, the borderlines of the British Isles did not look too dissimilar to that of today. Had the Anglo-Saxons never come, we may have seen a united country across England, Wales, and Cornwall, a separate Pictish Scotland, and a Scotti Ireland (assuming the Irish didn’t settle Scotland and push the Picts back).

But no England

It is important to note that, whilst I am using the term ‘England’, this is only to discuss the land area. Without the Anglo-Saxon arrival, there is no ‘England’. Instead, there is Britain, a Celtic land covering England, Wales, and Cornwall – from The Channel to Hadrian’s Wall, The Irish Sea to East Anglia (although not called that!).

Or, perhaps over time the Romano-Britons would have descended back into tribal feuds, and instead of a unified Briton, we would have a number of smaller tribal kingdoms.

Whatever the case, this would not have been England, so what would it have been?

We speak no English

Obviously, without England, there is no ‘English’ – both the people and the language.

English is heavily influenced by both Anglo-Saxon and French – with some Nordic Viking words such as place names. Most of our language is therefore Germanic, and the Latin influences we do get are not from the Romans, but the Normans.

Therefore English, may have instead remained as a Celtic language, a Brittonic language. This Brittonic language would have likely looked very similar to Welsh, Breton or Cornish, as these are example of how the Brittonic language was preserved up to today. There may have been Latin influence on this language, directly from the Roman-age, but it would have likely remained predominantly Celtic.

Perhaps we would have found it easier, if not seamless, to communicate with Welsh, Cornish, Breton, and even Gaelic speakers.

Even the word “England” would not exist. London itself might bear a name closer to its Roman or Brittonic origins, as may many other places such as those with ‘-ham’ or ‘-ton’ in their names.

Would you prefer if we spoke a Celtic language? Welsh has always sounded very cool to me, and I love seeing the Welsh language. But the spread of English as a globally dominant language does make travel and communication easier. Let me know what you think in the comments.

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Cultural identity

Of course, another big change would be our culture.

We have far less than we might expect of our Celtic and Roman heritage in everyday English life. English culture almost entirely finds its roots in Anglo-Saxon and Norman culture. But had the Anglo-Saxons never arrived, and particularly if Christianity had not taken root, perhaps our life would look more akin to that of the Celts.

Or, perhaps our legal systems would have remained Roman, our cities thrived in a Roman style economic and social environment, and something more akin to the Italian states would have arisen here.

Our myths and legends, which the Anglo-Saxons brought with them but were largely diminished by the Normans, may have been tales of ancient Celtic heroes. Legends of groves, caves, and druids.

The ethnicity of England too, a culmination of Anglo-Saxon, Norman, and Celtic, would have been different. With the dominant ethnicity likely being more similar to the Welsh and Irish than the Germans and French.

Do you think language shapes identity – or does identity shape language? Let me know what you think.

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Christianity and the English Church

As I have already mentioned, it is likely that without the arrival of the Anglo-Saxons, Christianity would have eventually diffused itself into every corner of Britain, as it did in Ireland. What might this have looked like?

Well, there probably would have been no need for an Augustine type figure. Thanks to the Romans, the British Church, prior to the Anglo-Saxons, was linked with the Church Catholic on the continent, and likely would have continued to be so.

Instead of the need for a renewal, or the later disputes between the Celtic and Latin Churches, there would have been one seamless Church across Britain that was connected to Rome by its bishops.

Or, perhaps a disconnect between the British Isles and the continent would have happened anyway, and we would have a Celtic Christianity such as the type that flourished in Ireland and Scotland in the early days of Anglo-Saxon England.

The Vikings and the Normans

As already mentioned, the Normans particularly go on to play a big role in England’s development, but so did the Vikings. With the arrival of both of them, England drastically changed from Anglo-Saxon dominance to a differing culture and language.

However, how would the Britons, had the Anglo-Saxons never arrived, fared against these opponents?

Would a more unified Celtic Britain have been able to repel these invasions? Or would fractured tribal conflicts have meant a more absolute erasure?

The future could have looked different

Of course, we can never know the definite answers to these questions, but speculation is important because it tells us something about how things are now.

England didn’t have to be this way, or even form in the first place.

England arose out of invasion and conquest, not a continuous and homogenous Celtic origin.

The language, culture, timeline, and ethnicity of this island were completely changed by the arrival of the Anglo-Saxons. England today, for better or worse, is a product of this shift, and we cannot ignore that when we look at what comes next.

If a country is its history, language, and stories, then ours took a drastic turn in the fifth century, going on to become the nation we know today. Without the Anglo-Saxon influence, perhaps we never would have explored and ventured beyond our islands. Perhaps empire, the spread of our language, our ideas, and our inventions never would have happened. In this regard, a non-English England does not just have implications at home, but it radically changes the whole world as we know it today.

And that is worth considering because it reminds us that the world we inhabit was not inevitable, but chosen, shaped, and fought into existence.

If you’ve enjoyed this exploration into the Britain that never was, make sure you’re subscribed – next week we return to what actually happened, as the story of early England continues and we look in more detail at the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, and address the heptarchy that would one day become England.

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A question for the comments.

If the Anglo-Saxons had never come, would Britain be more unified today – or less? What do you think we would have gained… and what would we have lost? Let me know in the comments below.

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Have a great week and a happy Easter!

Tom

Image Credits:

Title Image – Wales sign – https://www.gettyimages.co.uk/videos/matthew-wales

Anglo-Saxon warriors – https://www.hampshireattractions.co.uk/anglo-saxons-do-battle-at-ancient-farm/

500AD Map – Craig, Karl. 2007. Britannia AD 570. The History Jar: Tim Clarkson.

Celtic Language tree – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Celtic_languages

Celtic Cross – https://www.christianity.com/wiki/history/what-is-celtic-christianity.html

Celtic nations flag – https://flagsireland.com/en-gb/products/celtic-nations-flag

When Hengist and Horsa first set foot on the shores of Britain, the stories tell us fire and blood followed in their wake. Cities were razed, families slaughtered, and the native Britons driven to the hills and to foreign lands.

For centuries, historians told a simple story – the Anglo-Saxons came and wiped the Britons out or forced them into Celtic lands.

But new evidence is challenging that tale. DNA from skeletons buried a thousand years ago is telling a different story – one not of extermination, but of slow integration, of two peoples gradually becoming one.

So, what really happened after the Roman world collapsed? Today we will find out.

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Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More. Last week we discussed the arrival of the Anglo-Saxons, and their establishment of a heptarchy of Kingdoms. However, we were left with the question of what happened to the Romano-Britons who lived in these areas. This week we are going to explore the records, archaeology, and genetic evidence to find out. And so our question is – replacement, or integration?

What do you think? Do you imagine Britain emptied, torched, and resettled, or a slow blending of peoples? Let me know in the comments.

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The traditional view.

When David Hume and Tobias Smollett sat down to write their work The History of England, they set out clearly the traditional view of what happened. They wrote,

“[Hengist, the leader of the Saxons] being chiefly anxious to spread the terror of his arms, he spared neither age, nor sex, nor condition, wherever he marched his victorious forces. The private and public edifices of the Britons were reduced to ashes… the people, flying to the mountains and deserts, were intercepted and butchered in heaps: some were glad to accept life and servitude under their victors: others, deserting their native country, took shelter in the province of Armorica…” (Hume, Smollett, and Nolan 1872, 21)

And,

“The first invaders from Germany, instead of excluding other adventurers, who must share with them the spoils of the ancient inhabitants, were obliged to solicit fresh supplies from their own country; and a total extermination of the Britons became the sole expedient for providing a settlement and subsistence to the new planters. Hence there have been found in history few conquests more ruinous that that of the Saxons; and few revolutions more violent than that which they introduced.” (Hume, Smollett, and Nolan 1872, 23)

Not a pretty picture then.

The traditional view is that the Anglo-Saxon raped, burned, pillaged, and then kill everything in their path as they took over Britain. Even those that tried to flee were not spared, but instead kettled and killed.

Those lucky few who did escape became refugees in the Celtic lands, predominantly Wales and Cornwall, but some went to Scotland, Ireland, and Amorica (Brittany).

Hume and Smollett did not invent this view, or pluck it from thin air. They are reflecting over a millennium of tradition.

Although we have few contemporary writers from this period of Anglo-Saxon invasion, those that did write afterwards such as Bede and Gildas, seem to indicate that a genocide had taken place. That word gets banded around a lot these days, but if these writers are correct, then this truly was a genocide.

In the space of a few decades there are no Britons left in England other than salves, and most have been killed with a few uprooted and banished from their homelands – sound a lot like a real genocide to me.

There is only one way to see this view then – replacement.

Totally and completely, the Britons were replaced by Anglo-Saxons, explaining why our culture, language, and even ethnic name (‘English’) are separate to our Celtic cousins in Wales, Ireland, and Scotland.

However, newer evidence seems to be challenging this story.

Now, I’m not going to comment here on possible political and social motivations for this new research, that is for you to decide. But the latest data coming out of the world of archaeology, and particularly genetics, does indicate a different story to the one traditionally given.

In 2006, Mark G. Thomas, Michael P. H. Stumpf, and Heinrich Härke produced a paper titled ‘Evidence for an Apartheid-Like Social Structure in Early Anglo-Saxon England.’

This paper was fairly revolutionary in the world of Anglo-Saxon studies as it challenged the traditional notion of death and destruction, suggesting instead that two parallel societies emerged – more similar to aparthied.

Now, this doesn’t mean there wasn’t some death and destruction, and the Anglo-Saxons certainly become the overlords, likely by force, but it does challenge the idea of total replacement by genocide.

Despite the apartheid, genetic evidence indicates that over time there was some intermarriage between the Britons and Anglo-Saxons, which by the time of the fifteenth generation had made Anglo-Saxons and Britons indistinguishable.

Whilst many likely did still flee to the Celtic lands, and some would have been killed, it seems that overtime the aparthied ended naturally, and people began to identify as one new ethnic group – English (a term coined by Bede).

Following this paper, a series of papers went back and forth in academic journals between Thomas et al. and John E. Pattison debating the extent to which intermarriage occurred.

Whilst Thomas et al. had said it did happen, they felt it was fairly limited, at least at first, with parallel societies for generations instead of intergration early on.

Pattison on the otherhand argued from genetic evidence that there was much greater intergration from early on, and that the distinction between Anglo-Saxon and Briton fizzled out fairly quickly.

The question then becomes not about genocide, but about the speed of intergration – aparthied, eventually leading to intergration, or intergration from early on with no aparthied.

Why this question matters.

Regardless of the truth, which we may never know, it is important to highlight why this matters to us today, prompting a slightly different question – why is England today more Germanic than Celtic.

“If integration happened slowly, why do so few traces of Brittonic language and culture survive in England today?”

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In many respects, England today in terms of its language and culture, seems more like the Germanic peoples than the Welsh. We have very little (if any) Brittonic in our culture, language, traditions, and customs, but this is not the case in Wales.

If there really was integration, why do we not see more elements of Romano-Brittonic influence in English society today? But if the genocide hypothesis is true, then wouldn’t we expect to see that playing out in the genetic evidence, with purely Germanic Early English skeletons rather than mixes with Brittonic DNA.

It’s worth thinking about. If there had been a blending of the cultures, or at least a faster one, what might England look like today? Might we have more Welsh elements in our language, or more deeply engrained Latin elements coming directly from Roman occupation rather than through the Norman conquest. I’d love to hear you views on this in the comments – what might a Celtic England have looked like.

Arguably, it doesn’t matter because we will never know. But on the other hand, without the Anglo-Saxon invasion, or at least one that completely re-wrote British life, we wouldn’t have ‘England’. Quite literally! We would not be the land of the Angles – we might still be Britons. Descendants (genetically and culturally) of the Celts and Romans rather than of the Anglo-Saxons.

The new evidence and discussions, in the light of older traditions does tell us one thing for certain, however. And that is that the beginnings of English history are more complicated and nuanced than they perhaps seem at first.

What do you think? Were the Britons wiped out, or did they slowly merge with the Anglo-Saxons?

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Next week, we’ll ask — if the Anglo-Saxons had never arrived, how might Britain, and the English language itself, look today?”

If you want to find out, and aren’t already, make sure you’re subscribed to get that article as soon as it is out. And if you’ve like this today, please do drop a like below or share this article, it helps me reach more people with the content, and get the message out about the historical inheritance we seem to have collectively lost.

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Until next time, have a great week.

Tom

This article is part of an ongoing series exploring the origins of Britain – from the first prehistoric settlers to the events of 1066 that shaped the nation we recognise today. If you’ve enjoyed this piece and would like to follow the series as it continues, you can subscribe to receive each new article directly in your inbox.

Citations:

Hume, David, Tobias G. Smollett, and E. H. Nolan. 1872. The History of England by Hume and Smollett with a continuation ot the year 1872 by Dr. E. H. Nolan. IV vols. Vol. I. London: Virtue & Co.

Pattison, John E. 2008. “Is It Necessary to Assume an Apartheid-Like Social Structure in Early Anglo-Saxon England?” Proceedings: Biological Sciences 275 (1650): 2423-2429. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25249823.

---. 2011. “Integration Versus Apartheid in Post-Roman Britain: A Response to Thomas et al. (2008).” Human Biology 83 (6): 715-733. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41466778.

Thomas, Mark G., Michael P. H. Stumpf, and Heinrich Härke. 2006. “Evidence for an Apartheid-Like Social Structure in Early Anglo-Saxon England.” Proceedings: Biological Sciences 273 (1601): 2651-2657. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25223656.

---. 2008. “Integration versus Apartheid in Post-Roman Britain: A Response to Pattison.” Proceedings: Biological Sciences 275 (1650): 2419-2421.

Image Credits:

Title Image – Anglo-Saxon village – https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize/articles/zq2m6sg

David Hume, The History of England – https://www.zvab.com/HISTORY-ENGLAND-HUME-David/72645463/bd

Genetics – https://reasons.org/explore/blogs/the-cells-design/new-genetic-evidence-affirms-human-uniqueness

Welsh sign – https://inews.co.uk/news/long-reads/bilingual-scotland-british-uk-road-signs-science-dangerous-639757

Last week we left King Arthur on the Isle of Avalon, waiting for the day when Britain might need him again.

Whether Arthur was real or not, the world he belonged to certainly was. It was the world of post-Roman Britain – a land of crumbling cities, abandoned roads, and warlords fighting to preserve the last fragments of a civilisation that had once been part of the Roman Empire.

For a time, that civilisation survived – fragile, fragmented, but still recognisably Roman. But by the year 600, something remarkable had happened. The land that had once been Roman Britain was no longer Brittonic at all. It had become England — the land of the Angles.

Today we will find out why.

Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More. Over the last four weeks we have discussed the stories of St Patrick and King Arthur, trying to prise apart the legends and the truth and considering their impacts on us today. These figures emerged during the turbulent period when the Romans left Britain and the Anglo-Saxons began to arrive, and given that their lives are among the only literary records we have for this period, they were necessary excursions. Today however we are returning to our timeline with the arrival of the Anglo-Saxons and their settlements.

First, a little reminder.

The Roman exit from Britain was not sudden, but something that happened over a generation or so. Over time, the governing and military presence lessened until one day, the Britons were told by the Roman Emperor Honorius that they would have to look to their own defences.

In this regard, let’s remind ourselves of what Gildas had to say about what happened next:

“Then all the counsellors, together with the proud tyrant Vortigern, leader of the Britons, were blinded, and finding such protection, or rather destruction, for the country, those very fierce Saxons of infamous name, hated by God and men, were brought in like wolves into a sheepfold, into the island to drive away the northern peoples… First landing in the eastern part of the island, at the command of the ill-fated tyrant, they fixed their terrible claws, as if to fight for the country, but in fact to attack it more surely.” (De Excidio. xxiii).

Gildas tells us that in post-Roman Britain the raiding by pirates from Germanic lands, Scotland, and Ireland, had become so bad that the Britons had foolish decided to invite the Saxons to Britain to help defend it. Upon seeing the weakness of the Britons, they had seized the land for themselves, driving the Britons out, and establishing their own kingdoms.

Gildas presents a dramatic story of betrayal and invasion. But how much of it should we believe? Was Britain truly conquered in fire and blood – or was the story later exaggerated by writers trying to explain the collapse of Roman civilisation? Let me know what you think in the comments.

But who were the Anglo-Saxons?

Before we can discuss the Anglo-Saxon takeover of Britain, we first need to establish who they were.

The term ‘Anglo-Saxon’ is actually something of a misnomer. Whilst the Angles and the Saxons made up the majority of the invading forces, there were other groups among them such as the Frisians and the Jutes.

The Frisians seem to be the smallest and most sporadic of the four groups. They originated from what is now the Netherlands and probably arrived as traders as much as settlers. Archaeological evidence suggests Frisian presence along the Eastern Coast of England, particularly around the Thames estuary and East Anglia, with some small communities in Kent and Yorkshire. Although we still have a few places names that come from Frisian, such as Frizinghall and Frieston, they did not leave nearly the same sizable mark on England that other groups did.

A larger group of settlers was the Jutes who originated from the Jutland peninsula, which today forms most of mainland Denmark and the very northern edge of Germany. These settlers arrived in significant numbers on the coasts of Kent and the Isle of Wight, making these places part of their kingdom, as well as parts of Hampshire.

The Angles were originally from Angeln, which is a section of the peninsular in Northern Germany. It seems that their migration was more thorough. According to Bede, the migration was so extensive that the homeland of the Angles in Angeln was left largely deserted. Whether this was literally true is debated, but there is no doubt that Anglian settlement in Britain was extensive. Their influence on Britain was significantly more profound than that of the Jutes and the Frisians, and as such we still have an area we name after them – East Anglia. They settled predominantly in East Anglia, Mercia (The Midlands), and Northumbria.

Finally, the Saxons, who came from North-Western Germany (around what is Hamburg and Bremen today) and settled in large numbers around Southern England. As with the Angles, they left their mark as today we still have counties that refer to them such as Sussex, Essex, and Wessex (The south, east, and west Saxons).

All of these groups, however, did share a lot in common. Ethnically, culturally, and religious they were very similar, originating from roughly the same geographic area, and having plenty of contact with one another before coming to Britain. Their Germanic languages were very similar, making communication between them more similar to dialectical difference than linguistic, and their combination of a shared warrior culture and Germanic pagan practices meant that they were somewhat unified in beliefs.

How they arrived.

Although Gildas’ legend of their arrival, and Bede’s story of the arrival of Hengst and Horsa in Kent are the common narrative, there is some question around this.

Whilst it seems clear that small warbands lead by tribal chiefs did arrive with the intention of slaughtering, stealing and settling, some of the later settlement in larger numbers was more peaceful – likely because there was little resistance able to be mounted rather than acceptance amongst the natives!

However, this narrative does miss earlier exchanges between the Anglo-Saxons and Britain. Archaeological evidence indicates that even before the migrations there were trading links between Romano-British communities and Germanic peoples across the North Sea – not just piracy. Therefore, although the Anglo-Saxons were distinct to the Britons, being Germanic rather than Romano-Celtic, they were not entirely alien to Britain and its people.

Now I will add here that there is likely some political motivations behind some of these new archaeological findings and presentations – even science can have its biases. In a time where there is mass migration into Britain, and a somewhat correct desire to downplay Anglo-Saxon might as it was used as propaganda by the Nazis, there has been a move to frame the Anglo-Saxons’ arrival less as an invasion, and more as a migration. This will become more relevant next week as we look at the genetic data, but the political motivations should be kept in mind. Suffice to say that the rhetoric of violent invaders, welcomed in by natives, who proceed to set up their own kingdoms, culture, religion, and language by violent means, is not one that is being as propounded today.

However, writers such as Bede and Gildas did not see it this way. Both saw the arrival of the Anglo-Saxons as the wrath of God on the Britons, who since the Roman withdrawal had become weak both spiritually and militaristically. It seems strange to us today, but medieval monastic writers were not afraid to emphasise how military strength was vital to a Christian society, and that a good Christian kingdom must combine this with orthodox belief and practice.

The extent to which the Anglo-Saxons peacefully migrated versus slaughtered and burned will be more the subject of our next article, but for now, let’s turn our attention to what they did establish.

Upon arriving in Britain, the Anglo-Saxons set up kingdoms.

We have already mentioned a few of these. Initially, there were many smaller kingdoms across England, but in time these would become a Heptarchy of Kingdoms (seven), although at times smaller sub-kingdoms, puppets of larger ones, did rise and fall. In time, these would unite and become the land of the Angles – England – but we that would not happen for several centuries yet.

For a lot of British history, historians had to rely almost entirely on the writings of contemporary and later figures, usually monastic, for their details about the Anglo-Saxon arrival and expanding settlements. However, today, we have a wealth of archaeological evidence that helps us paint a clearer picture.

This picture shows one where it is clear that the Anglo-Saxons did establish cultural and governmental dominance. We see this in finds such as jewellery, burials, weapons, and post holes where great timber halls once stood.

Entire villages have been uncovered that show Germanic style buildings and settlements emerging, rather than Romano-British ones. Quite quickly we see the disappearance of Romano-British and post-Roman artefacts, and an influx of Germanic ones. Burial sites such as Sutton Hoo in East Anglia, dating from the early Anglo-Saxon kingdoms of the 7th century, give us an extraordinary glimpse into the wealth and power of the new ruling elites as their kingdoms enlarged and absorbed others.

Language changes too.

In Britain we retain almost nothing of our Celtic past in the way Wales, Cornwall, and Scotland do. Whilst we do retain some elements of Roman naming, such as Londinium, most of our place names come from Germanic languages ‘ham’ (home), ‘tun/ton’ (town), and ‘ford’ (river crossing).

Although our language has Latin elements today, these come from French through the Norman conquest, they are not from the Latin left by the Romans. Although monastic communities maintained Latin, the English language emerged almost entirely from Anglo-Saxon – what today we would call ‘Old English’. Virtually nothing of the Celtic or Latin languages from pre-Anglo-Saxon England has made its way into the English language we speak today.

All of these factors seem to point to a successful, possibly absolute, conquest of Britain and its transformation into England.

However, the controversial question does remain – how absolute was the Anglo-Saxon takeover of Britain. Bede and Gildas tell us that most of the Britons were slain or fled to Celtic lands, but new genetic data may point to something different. Clearly Britain was no longer Brittonic, it had been transformed. But this transformation leaves us with a mystery that historians still debate today.

If the Anglo-Saxons came to dominate most of England, what happened to the Romano-British people who had lived here before them? Were they driven out, wiped out, or absorbed into this new society?

Modern historians continue to debate just how violent this transformation was. Some argue that the Anglo-Saxon settlement represented a near total replacement of the Romano-British population, whilst others believe the newcomers were a relatively small elite who imposed their language and culture on a largely existing population.

It is a debate that continues in both academia and popular history today, discussed everywhere from university departments to history podcasts such as The Rest Is History.

For more on that, you will have to wait until next week to find out. Between now and then however, a question for you:

If the Anglo-Saxon migrations had never happened, Britain might look utterly different today. Our language might resemble Welsh or Breton. Our place names might still echo Roman Britain. Even the name Englandmight never have existed.

What do you think? If the Anglo-Saxons had never come, what would Britain look like today? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Have a great week.

Tom

This article is part of an ongoing series exploring the origins of Britain – from the first prehistoric settlers to the events of 1066 that shaped the nation we recognise today. If you’ve enjoyed this piece and would like to follow the series as it continues, you can subscribe to receive each new article directly in your inbox.

Image Credits:

Title Image – King Vortigern – https://www.alamy.com/king-vortigern-a-5th-century-warlord-and-king-of-the-britons-burning-alive-at-a-fire-in-his-castle-illuminated-manuscript-painting-by-peter-of-langtoft-1307-1327-image546271005.html

St Gildas – https://anastpaul.com/tag/stgildasthewise/

Anglo-Saxon arrival map –

https://duckduckgo.com/?q=anglo-saxon+britain+invasion+map&iar=images&t=osx

Hengist and Horsa – https://www.ancient-origins.net/history-important-events/hengist-and-horsa-0013768

St Bede – http://www.thomryng.com/amateurmonk/the-venerable-bede-2/saint-bede-the-venerable/

Sutton Hoo – https://smarthistory.org/the-sutton-hoo-ship-burial/

Indo-European Language tree – https://za.pinterest.com/pin/47217496070092211/

Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More. Last week we discussed how the account of Arthur given in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae expanded the legend, bringing in many of the features we know and love today. From there, the story expanded ever further and became embraced as a core legend for the British people. And so, today, we ask the question, where is King Arthur now? And does he still lie in wait on the Isle of Avalon? I want to argue that he does. Arthur still exists today, not as a person, but as a civilisational archetype – a recurring pattern of leadership that occurs in times of national crisis.

The question that won’t die.

Whether Arthur really existed is an interesting debate, and one that still continues to inspire historians to write about him. Nevertheless, given how long after the events the Arthurian tale arose, and given how mythic and magical it is, most historians doubt the existence of Arthur as a real historical figure.

However, it seems likely that there may have been a figure, or amalgamation of figures, during this post-Roman age who did fulfil an Arthurian-type role in uniting the Britons against the Saxon invasion. They were unlikely a king, but a military leader who held off the Saxons against extraordinary odds. That over time this legend grew, and the person/people became known as ‘Arthur’ is entirely possible. Therefore, whilst ‘King Arthur’ and the legends that accompany him are not historically true, an Arthurian figure in post-Roman Britain may be historically true. For what it’s worth, this is the opinion I personally hold on this topic.

And yet, whilst the historical validity of Arthur is an interesting question, I actually think this is a less interesting question. I think that by asking whether the legend of Arthur is historically true actually misses the point. Instead, the more interesting question is whether King Arthur is true in a metaphorical, mythical, and allegorical sense – as a uniting narrative of Britain. In this regard, I think the answer is obviously yes.

Historicity is not the point.

Too many historians, particularly since the modern period, have got bogged down in questions over historicity when it comes to these great legends. I do appreciate that there is a joy and excitement in that – uncovering the real truth of Arthur – but sadly, in the process of doing so, they have cut away at the myth.

Today, fewer people know the Arthurian legend. We are less bound by it. People are not awaiting the return of Arthur, and perhaps that adds to some of the despair we feel. But I, for one, do think Arthur can return. Again, not in a literal sense, but I choose to hang onto the legend that within the British psyche and society, there is room for an Arthur to arise, if needed, and to save us from great peril.

We are a tiny island nation, and yet we once ruled a quarter of the globe? Why? Well in part, I think, because of the strength that the Arthurian legend bestows upon the British people psychologically. Britain is, in many respects, the underdog, and we like that, that’s how we thrive. Arthur, against all odds, held back the Saxon advance. If he can do it, so can we.

Now of course, this isn’t the sole, or even primary reason for the British Empire. Nor is that to say that the British Empire was an entirely (or even predominantly) positive force. But the Arthurian legend allowed the British people to access a self-awareness and mythic unity that made them a formidable force in global affairs.

Although memory of Arthur is slipping away today, we can also recognise that across our history Arthurian ideals have shaped our laws, policies, warfare, literature, and, most importantly, our identity as Brits.

Arthur existed, and still exists.

The course of British history since the Dark Ages of Arthur has not been monolithic. We have been invaded, and repelled invasion. We have seen civil war and reforms. We have been divided, and we have greatly united. Yet, in all of those phases of British history, the Arthurian legend has endured. Sometimes being needed and used, other times being returned to Avalon.

It is interesting that across British history, so many different parties have tried to claim Arthur as their own, to make him a figure that represents their cause. This shows the enduring nature and necessity of the Arthurian legend to British history and its sense of itself. In this regard, whether Arthur historically existed matters less. He remains the mythic high king with the power to unite, maintain our sovereignty, and fight off invasion from within and without.

There is a reason that, as Brits, the story of Arthur continues to rouse us, to encourage us, and we see that when Arthurian ideals are brought forward, they have the power to unite.

There are those alive today who still remember Arthur. We have writings from the Georgian, Victorian, and Tudor period of those who remember Arthur. Arthur is Winston Churchill in Britain’s darkest hour. He is Horatio Nelson, defending our seas against the Spanish and French at the Battle of Trafalgar. He is the Duke of Wellington, repelling the armies of Napoleon on the continent. In British history, Arthur continues to live on, arising when Britain seems to be in its greatest peril.

Now, obviously, I do not mean Churchill is literally Arthur, or the reincarnation of the Arthurian soul, but, during WWII, he did bear the Arthurian archetype – I am not the first to point this out, the comparison of these and other figures to Arthur, across British history, remains a common theme.

The thematic archetype of the Arthurian story clearly does continue; Britain is in peril, a leader emerges; that leader speaks a language of defiance and makes a stand; this stand brings about national unity, and there is victory over the peril; then, retrospectively, this person is immortalised in the British psyche as an Arthurian archetype. Arthur is the archetype of courage, moral clarity, and leadership in times of mortal peril, and we have seen figures such as this across our history time and again.

The once and future king.

Remember, according to the medieval legend, Arthur did not die. He returned to the Isle of Avalon and waits for when he is needed again.

This means that, in the British narrative, there is always room for Arthur to archetypically resurrect in times of trouble. The unfinished ending to the Arthurian story allows for us to write in our own endings, be they Trafalgar, Normandy, or some as yet unforeseen event.

We do not have a tomb to Arthur. He is not buried and memorialised. Arthur lives on, and I think that is precisely why the medieval writers left his story open ended – he can always return.

There are dangers though.

On the one hand, the danger is one I’ve already described. That by focusing too heavily on the history, we write the Arthurian legend out of existence and banish him from our lands as an unhistorical fairy tale.

However, the other danger is to be found in the radicalisation of the unity myths can carry.

The reason in academia the term ‘Anglo-Saxon’ has been controversial, at least for the last couple of decades, is because of how it was used by the Nazis in Germany. They used mythic legends of the Anglo-Saxon conquests and gods to rally the German people into a nationalistic fervour that led to some of the worst evils the earth has ever seen. They were able to do this precisely because a national myth has power.

We have to be careful that in remembering, or even reinvigorating, the Arthurian legend we do not fall prey to elitism or ethno-nationalistic fanaticism. The myth of Arthur should be vital to British life – to unite, inspire, and justify a sense of nationalism – but it should be handled with care so that it does not become a source of arrogance and evil. I am not saying that there is anything intrinsically evil or concerning about the Arthurian myth, but the risk is that all unifying legends can be used in unwise ways, and we must be careful to avoid this temptation.

Avalon endures.

As long as we keep the unity we receive from the Arthurian legend tempered, then it can do a lot of good.

The idea that he still waits, on the mythic Isle of Avalon, can be one that brings us hope and inspires.

Now obviously Avalon is not a real geographical place, but it is a place. Avalon continues to exist in the British imagination as a last bastion. A refuge of hope, of honour, and moral perfection. Avalon holds that which is most important to us – our sense of ourselves and what we could be.

The role of the myth of Arthur and Avalon then, is to continue to inspire new Arthurs. As we once again enter a turbulent time in British history, I for one hope an Arthurian figure does arise. Not because I want war or bloodshed, but because I think we need hope. In times of fracture, Arthur can unite. In times of war, Arthur can defend. And this is why the legend persists – because we need it to.

Therefore, Avalon is not a legendary place in the past, it is a place that continues to exist as a symbol of the potential of the British people.

And so, Arthur waits.

Not for a crown, but for the courage for people to step up and become Arthur.

Perhaps in our lifetime, Arthur will return.

As long as Britain endures, so does Arthur.

Tom

Image Credits:

Title Image – Tintagel Arthur – https://www.breaksincornwall.com/about-cornwall/explore/king-arthur/

Anglo-Saxon war – https://www.thecollector.com/anglo-saxon-gain-supremacy-britons/

Tintagel Castle – https://www.exploring-castles.com/uk/england/tintagel_castle/

Winston Churchil – https://humanidades.com/winston-churchill/

Nazi Rally – https://www.bbc.com/bitesize/guides/zfknb9q/revision/6

Tintagel Arthur – https://www.breaksincornwall.com/about-cornwall/explore/king-arthur/

Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More where last week we discussed the earliest accounts of the Arthurian narrative, considering his real place in history (if he existed) and how he slowly became associated with the Battle of Mount Badon and a last heroically successful stand against the Saxons in the works of Gildas, Y Gododdin and Nennius. We finished with the Annales Cambriae from 900s which first associated Arthur with defeat at Camlann and a warrior called Medraut (later Mordred).

This week we will turn our attention to how the story grew from here into the legend we know and love today, before finishing next week with a literary discussion of the story itself – its symbolism, importance, and place in British society.

After Annales Cambriae there is a gap.

Likely due to the tumult that faced England as Anglo-Saxon culture ended and the Normans invaded, there is a literary gap with regards to Arthur until the twelfth-century, but that does not mean the story was lost.

In the chaos and reforms that followed the Norman Conquest, the Arthurian story grew in the popular imagination, particularly amongst the Britons in Wales, who were happy to see the end of Anglo-Saxon rule. They were pleased that the people who had once oppressed them and forced them out of their lands were now, themselves, being oppressed, and this likely gave rise to a newfound popularity for the Arthurian legend. As the Anglo-Saxons diminished, and the newly arrived French looked for ways to claim not just political, but mythic-historical authority over England, the story sprung up and grew once more through the writings of a Welsh Christian cleric.

Into this growing narrative steps Geoffrey of Monmouth.

In c.1136, Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote a book titled Historia Regum Britanniae (The History of the Kings of Britain) in which we see, for the first time, the full story of the Arthur we know today.

The work itself is highly mythical, and the historical accuracy of it is very questionable to say the least. For example, Monmouth tells us that Britain was founded by Brutus (the Grandson of the Trojan hero Aeneas) after he was banished from Italy and guided to these lands by the Goddess Diana. Monmouth’s work is, therefore, more akin to something like a Bernard Cornwell novel in that it is often based around real people and events, but taking a fictional twist. However, unlike a Cornwell novel, it contains magical events and prophecies too.

The Historia is divided into twelve books, with the whole of the seventh book being dedicated to the prophecies of Merlin – who it seems Monmouth is the first to introduce to literature – and books eight to twelve record the life and story of Arthur as well as surrounding myths associated with him.

Book eight begins with Ambrosius Aurelianus.

Some historians have associated this person, found in Gildas’ De Excidio, with the real Arthur, but Monmouth instead makes him the uncle of Arthur, who defeats the tyrant Brittonic King Vortigern and becomes King along with his brother Uther. However, Merlin, having seen a dragon shaped comet (a Pendragon – from which Uther and Arthur will get their surnames), prophesies that Ambrosius will die and Uther succeed him – which comes to pass.

Uther Pendragon becomes king and falls in love with the wife of Duke Gorlois of Cornwall, Igerna, sleeping with her through the magical workings of Merlin. Mystically, she conceives a son – Arthur. Uther and Gorlois go to war over this Igerna and Uther is victorious, killing Gorlois and marrying her.

Arthur succeeds to the throne and pushes a Saxon invasion back, leaving Britain free of the Saxons for his lifetime. With Britain safe, Arthur establishes a golden era. He has knightly, chivalrous companions, a great and magnificent court, and much feasting. Although Monmouth does not mention Camelot or the Knights of the Round Table, this aspect of his story lays the foundations for these legends to grow in time.

Monmouth tells us that Arthur then goes on the conquer most of Northern Europe including Ireland, Iceland and Norway, and comes face to face with the Roman Empire who demand he return to Britain and pay taxes to Rome. Arthur defeats the Roman army in Gaul and is set to become the Roman emperor, but in his absence his nephew Mordred had seized the British throne and married Arthur’s great love Guinevere. Arthur returns to Britain to retake it, and a mighty battle ensues at Camlann, in which Mordred is killed, but Arthur is mortally wounded. Arthur, now dying, is carried back to the Isles of Avalon (later associated with Glastonbury Tor).

But Arthur does not die, he is healed, and stays in retreat in Avalon. He waits there, to this day, when once again Britainnia will need him to come and save her. He waits, watching, ready to save these Isles should the occasion once again arise. Arthur remains, according the Monmouth, England’s once and future king.

But hang on, isn’t this meant to be History Wednesdays? Why am I focusing on a myth?

Well Monmouth’s mythic expansion of the legend of Britain and the story of Arthur provides the framework for many of the stories the British will go on to tell themselves over the next few centuries. We will be referring back to this Arthurian legend both in our discussions of history, and of Britishness, and so it is important that we not only discuss the time period and historicity of the Arthurian story, but that we also discuss its implications and mythos.

The wider effects of Monmouth’s Arthurian tale are things we will discuss next week, but to end, it is worth asking why he wrote this?

Why go to the trouble of writing story that is clearly so mythic?

The political climate of Monmouth’s day is, as we discussed earlier, tumultuous. In Monmouth’s own day, England is wracked by a series of conflicts surrounding the ascension of King Stephen. Although the nobility was predominantly Norman, some Anglo-Saxon noble factions and the common people – who are still overwhelmingly Anglo-Saxon – were still putting up resistance.

What Monmouth’s work is trying to do is create a narrative which binds the Britons of Wales and Cornwall to the continent, and to place the Normans as successors of the Arthurian legend. The Anglo-Saxons receive no love in the story, and are treated as second class, whilst the Britons and their cousins in France, are raised up and linked together.

Monmouth was Welsh born, and likely grew up with the myths of a once great Brittonic king called Arthur. He must have longed for a time when once again the Britons would rise and overthrow their barbarous, invading Anglo-Saxon neighbours to the East. In his own politically savvy way, Monmouth is trying to bestow Brittonic lineage onto the Normans, and dimmish the Saxons who, as a Welshman, he would have had no love for.

Monmouth uses Arthur to unite the peoples of Wales, Cornwall, and Normandy under an ancestral king.

By tying Arthur’s birth to Caerleon in Wales, and making his mother’s family Cornish, Monmouth is tying two of the remaining Celtic/Brittonic kingdoms together more deeply. Also, given that the Normans were originally from Scandinavia, and had gone to France through the Viking Duke Rollo (Norman means ‘North man’), by making Arthur king not only of Britain, but over the ancestors of the Normans in Scandinavia, Monmouth links the Britons and the Normans together too.

Monmouth takes Arthur from a possible historical leader at the Battle of Mount Badon and catapults him into a unifying legend. Through Monmouth, a new history of Britain – a legendary history, descended from Troy, that rivals Rome – is created. Within decades, the story was translated into French, and it was expanded, used, and set the standard for chivalric behaviour for generations. It gave the Normans precisely the link to Britain they were looking for, and as even the countryside of England began to Normanise and memory of being Anglo-Saxon faded, the legend was embraced by all the peoples of England, and became one of the defining myths of Britain.

So, what are the implications of this myth today? Well, you will have to wait until next week to find out.

Until then, have a great week.

Tom

Image Credits:

Title Image – Monty Python and the Holy Grail – https://screenrant.com/monty-python-holy-grail-funniest-scenes-black-knight-killer-rabbit/

William the Conqueror – https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofEngland/William-The-Conqueror-Exploding-Corpse/

Geoffrey of Monmouth – https://www.thecollector.com/who-was-geoffrey-of-monmouth/

Merlin – https://www.kg-mti.de/medieval-merlin-manuscript/

Glastonbury Tor – https://thirdeyetraveller.com/glastonbury-tor-walk-isle-of-avalon/

Wars of Stephen and Matilda – https://historychronicler.com/empress-matilda-and-the-anarchy-englands-forgotten-civil-war/

King Arthur – https://www.history-channel.org/king-arthur-who-was-the-real-5th-century-celtic-king-of-the-britons/

Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More. Last week we discussed the life of St Patrick, asking questions about the narrative, and exploring his heritage as the Romano-Briton responsible, at least in part, for the conversion of Ireland. We also discussed how, regardless of the historical validity of some aspects of the St Patrick story, the record of his life from this period of ‘dark age’ Britain, is among some of the only information we have from this time.

In Friday’s newsletter, we examined the idea of myth and story more deeply, considering how a nation is not primarily its geography, but its story, and with that in mind, this week we are turning our attention to perhaps the most mythically important figure in British history – King Arthur.

We will be dividing this across three newsletters however, as there is so much to say. This week will focus on the earliest accounts of Arthur and their historical questionability. Then next week we will turn to the text that really expounded the Arthurian story, and see how the Holy Grail, Camelot, the Isle of Avalon, and the Knights of the Round Table entered the myth. This will culminate in our third Arthurian newsletter in two weeks when we will examine the lasting impacts of the story on the British narrative, asking the question, what does it mean for King Arthur to one day return?

The story of King Arthur is a famous one.

However, it is somewhat fragmented as it has been told across history in different renditions from more historical, to more fictious. From his earliest mention in Gildas’ De Excidio to Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae, to the comedic depictions in Monty Python’s Holy Grail and Shrek 3, Arthur has a seat at the heart of the British imagination.

Now, I will be honest from the start, that apart from the occasional story I heard in my childhood, and some snippets I saw on TV of Disney’s 1963 ‘The Sword in the Stone’, the first full rendition of Arthur’s life I ever experienced was in Monty Python’s Holy Grail, and its Broadway musical spinoff Spamalot. However, in studying the origins of Britain, I have become more acquainted with the real story which I will try to impart in these newsletters. However, I cannot guarantee I will be able to avoid comedic references to coconuts and the knights who say ‘Ni’ entirely.

Let’s begin with setting.

We have to remember, that the world King Arthur exists in is a sparsely recorded one. The Romans have gone, and raids by Picts, the Irish, and the Anglo-Saxons are frequent. There is little contemporary writing from this period, and so it is the perfect setting for un-verifiable myths to arise. It was also a period of collapse and desperation, a time when the need for a unifying myth of a saviour was needed, and the tale of an Arthurian character fits the bill perfectly – a time for an unelected King to rule over the anarcho-socialist peasant communes whilst pretending to ride a horse voiced by coconuts carried by laden swallows.

The nearest contemporary source we have for Arthur is in Gildas, who tells us he was born in the year of Arthur’s most famous battle of Mount Badon. The issue is, we do not know when this was, and Gildas’ does not actually name Arthur in this passage, merely mentioning a British victory at this battle. Instead, the association of Arthur with the victory at Mount Badon came centuries later. The only leader Gildas does mention, that could (and I use ‘could’ very lightly here) be Arthur is a leader of the Britons called Ambrosius Aurelianus.

The Battle of Mount Badon, most historians agree, was a real battle, and a vital one. At this battle of unknown location and timing, it is said that the Britons won a great victory against a Saxon army, and that this defeat was sufficient to hold back the Saxon advance into Britain for a whole generation, giving the Britons some relief from the constant onslaught.

Sadly though, the evidence for Arthur’s presence at this battle is sparse to say the least.

After Gildas, our first real mention of Arthur is in a seventh-century Welsh poem called Y Gododdin, in which there is reference to a warrior being ‘no Arthur’. Whilst this does not tell us anything about King Arthur directly, it does tell us that the idea of Arthur was already in the mind of the Britons, who by this point had been pushed into Wales by Anglo-Saxon advances. Comparing a warrior to the yard stick of Arthurian greatness tells us that there was a legend of a mighty warrior called Arthur floating around in the mythic imagination of the time, and was therefore likely an older idea given that the writer feels able to mention his name without clarification.

After Y Gododdin, we get our first real mention of Arthur as we might recognise him today in a work attributed to a ninth-century Northern Welsh monk St Nennius, called Historia Brittonum (History of Britain), written c.830. This is the first place we get Arthur associated with the Battle of Mount Badon, as well as eleven other battles supposed to have taken place in the same period. Although Nennius does not call Arthur ‘king’, he does call him a dux bellorum, or ‘leader of battles’, and tells us that he killed nearly a thousand men in a single charge during a battle. Sadly, however, Nennius is writing over three-hundred years after Arthur is supposed to have lived, and in a very different political climate.

By the ninth-century, England was distinct from Wales.

We will get into the reasons why later on in our History Wednesday series, but suffice to say that ‘England’ means land of the Angles. With the arrival of the Anglo-Saxons into what would become England, many of the Native Britons were pushed into the West, and particularly into Wales. Wales continued to hold the genetics, language, and culture of what had been the Britons, whilst England become a new, more Germanic land of the Angles and Saxons. Nennius, in writing about a Brittonic warrior who united his people against the Anglo-Saxons, driving them back for a generation at the Battle of Mount Badon, is probably doing so for political reasons. The Brittonic remnant, or ‘Welsh’ as they became known, was constantly in a state of resisting the western advances of the Anglo-Saxons into their lands, and so a uniting narrative of a once great Brittonic force headed by Arthur, would have been politically useful.

The role of Arthur in Nennius then, perhaps for the first time in writing, was to present a unifying figure of resistance against tyranny. Arthur was no longer a historical figure, but a figure of legend that could be wielded for political purposes to create unity against evils in times of trouble – a theme we will return to in time.

After Nennius comes Annales Cambriae in the tenth-century.

Even here, around four-hundred years after the events, the details of Arthur remain sparse. The work, of unknown authorship, simply mentions Arthur’s role in the Battle of Mount Badon, which it dates to 516, and his defeat at the Battle of Camlann in 537. However, the addition of Arthur’s final battle at Camlann, and the death of Medraut (later Mordred, Arthur’s arch-nemesis) are at least new additions to the Arthurian tale that will become key features.

Again, although still lacking, we can see how the figure of Arthur was growing in the literature, and how the groundwork for the Arthurian legend we know today was being laid.

In the tenth and eleventh centuries the Arthurian legend grew. As England re-embraced its post and pre-Roman history, seeing the English as a continuation of it, rather than as an invasion force, people in England began to share and embrace the Arthurian legend. The reasons behind this were predominantly political, as the English began to look to their history for justification for their invasions and occupations of Wales, who had long held the Arthurian legends as their own as descendants of the Britons. This was also likely renewed during the turbulence following 1066 as the English desired a uniting narrative, whispered in alehouses and marketplaces, against the French in the wake of the Norman conquest and subsequent imposition of a distinct ‘Franco-Norman-ness’ on the English. In a time of tumult, once again the narrative of Arthur rose up as a unifying force in Britain against the invading forces of evil and tyranny from the continent.

In time, these legends would make their ways from whispered stories into literature, but you will have to wait until next week for that, where we will turn our attention to the first expansive Arthurian legend, found in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae c.1136. There we will see how the fragments of Arthurian ideas, and the growing myths in the public imagination, culminate in the legend we know today.

Until then, have a great week.

Tom

Image Credits:

Title Image – Monty Python’s Holy Grail – https://www.netflix.com/title/771476

Monty Python’s Holy Grail – https://alphacoders.com/monty-python-and-the-holy-grail-wallpapers

Battle of Mount Badon – https://www.theblackmorevale.co.uk/badbury-rings-king-arthurs-greatest-victory/

England Map 800AD – https://storage.googleapis.com/dgnmasuvrksbie/great-britain-historical-map.html

King Arthur – https://bennettbuzz.wordpress.com/2023/01/26/from-monmouth-to-malory-how-did-the-legend-of-king-arthur-impact-medieval-britain-1-4/

Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More. Last week we looked at the end of Roman Britain, dispelling the myth that it was a sudden withdrawal or collapse, but rather a slow process over several generations, as Romanisation reduced, Brittonic life made a resurgence, and new barbarians entered these lands.

Sadly, during the period between the Roman withdrawal from Britain, and the later arrival of evangelising monks, we have very little recorded about British history. The only near contemporary source we have is Gildas, and so all of our knowledge comes from him, later writers, and the archaeological evidence. Even on the continent where writing continues, little is mentioned of Britain during the post-Roman period, and so our knowledge remains fuzzy.

Historically, we have known this period as ‘the Dark Ages’.

Although this is a misnomer that has been readily dispelled, the lack of writing until the founding of monasteries does lend some truth to this idea. Into this period the myths of great figures arise, some we know were real, such as St Patrick, and others we are less sure of, like King Arthur, but all are magnificently interesting in their own ways. This week, we are turning our attention to former of these legendary figures, and asking how much of what we know is truth, and how much is fiction.

St Patrick is most known as the Patron Saint of Ireland, and is heavily celebrated there and in America on his feast day. But most do not realise that he was not Irish, but Romano-Brittonic, and so we begin our story today in England.

Precisely where Patrick was born and lived is not entirely clear. In his Confessions, an autobiographical work that most accept was written by Patrick himself, he says that he lived in Bannavem Taburniae, of which no lasting record survives. Propositions for the location of this place include Northamptonshire (but given its distance from the sea this seems unlikely), or Kilpatrick in Scotland. Instead, somewhere around Carlisle, near Hadrian’s Wall, is the generally accept location.

We also do not know precisely when he was born.

The dating of Confessions, and facts contained within it suggest that he was likely born in the mid-fifth century, and he died some time in the early sixth-century. What we do know, however, is that he existed, and that many of the elements of his story are likely true.

Being born in the mid-fifth century meant that the decline of Roman Britain was fairly well established by his birth. His parents and grandparents did remember Roman rule however. His father was a Roman decurion (official), and his grandfather had been a deacon, and so Romanisation, even if fading, would have been familiar to Patrick. His own Confession also indicates that, because of his father’s position, they were likely fairly wealthy as they lived in a villa. This is also indicated by the fact that Patrick could read and write, showing that he was educated.

Now I said that Patrick’s birthplace likely needed to be by the sea, specifically on the West coast. The reason for this is that at the age of sixteen, Patrick was captured in one of the many raids by the Irish pirates, and taken into captivity and slavery in Dal Riada (Northeastern Ireland).

There in Ireland Patrick spent six years as a slave. But like many great saints, he does not see this time bitterly or as wasted, but as a blessing from God that made him aware of his youthful pride, and caused him to depend on God – growing spiritually in the process. Furthermore, his time in slavery taught him the Irish language and culture, and a love for its people even though they were his captors.

In Dal Riada, Patrick was set to work as a shepherd.

A combination of this role, and his knowledge of the biblical stories of the likes of King David, must have given Patrick a spiritual sense that he was there for a purpose. Although a hard life, out in the fields, shepherding as so many heroes of the Bible had, he must have felt the presence of God, and His call on Patrick’s life.

Patrick heard God tell him that he would soon return home, and so he escaped his captivity, and made haste to a port two-hundred miles away where he convinced a captain to allow him to board his ship. It is unclear as to whether this ship went to Britain or Gaul, but we know that after some time and trials, he did eventually make it back home.

Upon returning, Patrick felt called to become a priest, and so spent time on the continent training. A lot of his training was done in Auxerre, where he became a deacon, and he was eventually ordained into the priesthood there by St Germanus. It is also likely that whilst on the continent, he spent time at Marmoutier Abbey in Tours, and Lérins Abbey.

Upon returning to Britain as a priest, he felt a new call, and one that must have felt not entirely unexpected. He was to return to Ireland, to the place of his captivity, and to spread Christianity there to its peoples. As someone who spoke the language and knew the culture, he was well-equipped for the task.

And so, Patrick went to Ireland, and preached the message of Christianity.

This was no easy task. He recounts being imprisoned, beaten, and a number of other such trials, but in time he was successful.

Today, Patrick is often credited with being the person who brought Christianity to Ireland, and having been anointed a bishop by Maximus of Turin, he founded churches in the land. He baptised kings, made priests and monks, and by his understanding of Irish culture and language, was able to allow Christianity to blend into Irish life.

His profound impact meant that, in time, Ireland would become a bastion of Christianity, as the monks it produced would go on to re-Christianise England and Scotland after the Anglo-Saxon arrival. This Christianity, which for a time was cut off from the Church in Rome, would develop its own unique characteristics, and remain, in someways, more Eastern Orthodox than Latin Catholic (although this schism wasn’t until the eleventh-century).

The Christianity that persisted in Ireland was natural and earthy, kept the older Eastern dating for Easter, and had a more grounded feeling. This would in time become called ‘Celtic Christianity’, and has seen many recent revivals as its connectedness to nature became more needed in an industrial and then technological age. Things such as the Irish Blessing and the popular hymn ‘Be Thou My Vision’ are good examples of this distinctive strain of Celtic Christianity.

Patrick also became a legendary figure in Ireland and beyond, as many miracles began to be associated with him, such as driving all of the snakes out of Ireland – supposedly the reason why Ireland, still to this day, does not have any snakes. And his use of a clover to explain the Trinity, which has secured the three-leaved clover (Shamrock) as an image of Ireland to the present.

However, how true is all of this?

Well, with regards to the miracles, you can make your own mind up there. Suffice to say that people at the time and since certainly believed them, as Patrick became a venerated saint after his death. But what about the claim he Christianised Ireland?

This is a tricky one. We know that Christianity was already in Ireland at the time of Patrick as we have records of a bishop there called Palladius. So, we cannot credit Patrick with bringing Christianity to Ireland. Furthermore, Patrick did travel, but there is little chance that he personally was responsible for taking Christianity to every community and corner of Ireland.

However, his establishment of churches, and training of priests, likely did mean that he was predominantly responsible for the eventual spread of Christianity across Ireland and beyond. In some respects, Patrick’s mission and the evolution of a Celtic Christianity may be what saved Christianity in Ireland, and allowed for the re-Christianisation of Scotland and Northern England which still retained some of their Brittonic characteristics despite the Anglo-Saxon invasion.

Much of Patrick’s contribution is open to debate, and a lot of it is lost to time, but as a hagiographic mythology (and by that I do not mean untrue), the story of Patrick continues to move people today. The inspiration he can provide in his returning to and serving those who once held him captive, is a Christ-like lesson we can all learn from.

Next week we are going to carry on our exploration of the legends of this ill-recorded period in British history, and turn our attention to folk-hero and mythic figure that is King Arthur. But until then, I leave you with the Irish Blessing – its earthy and practical, but moving words. Words that are special to me personally as they were read at my wedding.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields
and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

May God be with you and bless you;
May you see your children’s children.
May you be poor in misfortune,
rich in blessings.
May you know nothing but happiness
from this day forward.

May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the warm rays of sun fall upon your home,
and may the hand of a friend always be near.

May green be the grass you walk on,
May blue be the skies above you,
May pure be the joys that surround you,
May true be the hearts that love you.

Have a great week.

Tom

Image Credits:

Title Image – St Patrick – https://www.al.com/life/2022/03/celebrating-st-patrick-five-quick-facts-about-the-patron-saint-of-ireland.html

St Patrick painting – https://catholicsaintmedals.com/saints/st-patrick/

Dal Riada Map – http://themcdowellclan.co.uk/dalriada-the-kingdom-of-scotland-and-ireland

Celtic Christianity – https://www.christianity.com/wiki/history/what-is-celtic-christianity.html

St Patrick stained Glass – https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Patrick

Bishop Palladius – https://heavyangloorthodox.blogspot.com/2019/07/holy-hierarch-palladius-apostle-to-scots.html

Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More. Last week we explored three saints’ lives, Alban, Aaron, and Julius, and saw how their martyrdoms marked the start of public Christianity in Britain. We also ended by noting that overtime, as with the rest of the Roman Empire, Christianity slowly became a part of everyday life – particularly in the urbanised areas.

However, this new period would not last long. There were troubles brewing across the Roman Empire, and Britain would soon have to learn to live without Rome.

We need to begin by dispelling a myth.

The Roman Empire did not collapse suddenly, nor did it leave Britain overnight. There wasn’t a ceremonial marching of the legions out of Britain, farewell party, or edict. The end of Roman Britain was a slow process over the course of several generations.

By the end of the 300s AD, Rome was having serious troubles across the empire and in Rome itself. Civil wars, multiple threats, a string of bad emperors, attacks from barbarian tribes, and the slow collapse of its territories, meant that maintaining Britain was no longer a priority. What is more, the capital was no longer Rome but Constantinople, and the Western Roman Empire was beginning to split from the East. By 395AD the split was official, and the Eastern Roman Empire was not interested in aiding the Western Empire in holding onto its territories in the north and west. Britain, a province on the edge of the map, just became too expensive and logistically challenging to continue to secure with half (or more) of the resources gone.

In 383 troops were moved out of the west of the Province of Britannia, leaving Wales free from occupation. In the early 400s, troops were gradually removed from Hadrian’s Wall and the Northern, being recalled to Rome and other parts of the Empire where there were bigger troubles. Over the next few years, the remaining vestiges of Roman governance were also dissolved as judges and politicians were recalled, and the system of Roman taxation in Britain ceased. By 410, there is little to no Roman military presence left in Britain, and the Emperor Honorius sent a letter (likely to Britain) called the ‘Rescript of Honorius’, telling its people to make provisions for their own defences – they could no longer rely on Rome.

In essence, Rome was no longer going to protect them, they would have to do it for themselves.

The urban areas of Britain had enjoyed relative peace and safety under Roman rule and protection, but that was now gone. One cannot help but think of the current situation between Europe and the US at this point. That the US, as the major funder of NATO, has allowed for Europe to remain relatively peaceful, prosperous, and free for time, building vast social welfare systems without focusing on defence spending, but now withdrawal and division is on the table, there is a mad scramble to provide for our own defence. This is much the same to how things played out in Britain.

With the Romans gone, Britain was vulnerable.

For a time, things continued in a state of slow decay. The roads became more dangerous, disorder more common, and building work ceased. Raiding escalated along the coasts, and people began to feel the fear of being slaughtered or kidnapped from their own homes as bands of pirates got bolder.

Some things did, however, survive – at least for a time. Many of the concepts of Roman rule continued, as did Christianity which was still connected to the Church on the continent by its bishops and submission to the Bishop of Rome. Towns, villages, roads, and villas still existed, but there was a growing sense that these were inherited from the past rather than a part of the present – again, a feeling I think many of us Britain feel about our country today.

Although raiding and piracy had been going on during the mid-fourth-century, this picked up after the Roman withdrawal from the West of England in 383, as Wales became more vulnerable. The boldness of the raiders only increased as the Romans withdrew from other parts of Britain, and by 410 raids into England and Wales were commonplace.

Britain was under attack from three fronts; the Scoti from Ireland raided into the West; the Picts from Scotland attacked from the North; and the Saxons from the continent looted the East. The Romano-British peoples, who had rarely had to defend themselves thanks to the might of the legions, begged for help from Rome, but no answer came.

Britain was on its own.

Into this mix came a king called Vortigern, who Gildas tells us was a ‘tyrant’. He rose up as a king of the remaining Britons in England, and decided action needed to be taken against these raids. He and the people decided to call on the Saxons to defend them. Despite the fact the Saxons were raiding into England, the decision was made by Vortigerns that they could pay these warriors, and possibly give them some land to settle too, in exchange for their defence of England. Suffice to say, this did not go well, and Gildas had some stern words to say about it. He wrote,

“Then all the counsellors, together with the proud tyrant Vortigern, leader of the Britons, were blinded, and finding such protection, or rather destruction, for the country, those very fierce Saxons of infamous name, hated by God and men, were brought in like wolves into a sheepfold, into the island to drive away the northern peoples… First landing in the eastern part of the island, at the command of the ill-fated tyrant, they fixed their terrible claws, as if to fight for the country, but in fact to attack it more surely.” (De Excidio. xxiii).

Seeing that the Britons were so weak and defenceless, it seems that the Saxons decided to take England, rather than defend it. The fields were fertile, there was wood, tin, and slaves, and so instead of fighting for wealth, they could just overthrow the people and take it all for themselves.

Over the next century more and more Anglo-Saxon peoples invaded and settled in England, overthrowing the natives, and killing them by the thousands, or driving them out into Wales and Scotland.

Or did they?

Whilst that is the narrative that has existed for the last millennia or so, new genetic research may be challenging the assumptions that the Anglo-Saxon committed a genocidal campaign in Britain. However, that discussion will have to wait a couple of weeks. In the meantime, we will need to turn our attention to a very notable Briton; one who was taken as a slave to Ireland during this period; who after escaping captivity returned to Ireland as a missionary. Yes, next week we will be turning our attention to the legendary story of St Patrick and the conversion of Ireland.

Until then, have a great week.

Tom

Image Credits:

Title Image – Visigoths attack – https://www.sutori.com/en/story/the-fall-of-the-western-roman-empire--d7VLXP8v7iVznrZeCt5ViTSM

Roman Empire split map – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/End_of_Roman_rule_in_Britain#/media/File:Theodosius_I’s_empire.png

Roman Withdrawal Map – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/End_of_Roman_rule_in_Britain#/media/File:End.of.Roman.rule.in.Britain.383.410.jpg

Invasion – https://www.funkidslive.com/learn/top-10-facts/top-10-facts-about-the-anglo-saxons/

Anglo-Saxon Thegn – https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/depiction-of-a-saxon-king-or-aetheling-member-of-the-royal-family-equivalent-to-a-duke-and-retinue-based--452893306248520806/

Hello,

Welcome back to The Case For More Substack for our next edition of History Wednesdays. Last week we saw how Hadrian’s wall created a border between Scotland and England, and meant that Roman society could flourish. We also said that the countryside and forests remained relatively un-Romanised, but instead it was the urban and military centres that saw the most radical change.

One of the most radical changes that occurred during this period of relative peace and Romanisation was the coming of Christianity to Britannia, and this is where we shall turn our attention today.

The Legend

Legend has it that Christianity first arrived in Britain (specifically Glastonbury) with Joseph of Arimathea, sent by St Philip, who brought the Holy Grail to these lands, leading to the myths of King Arthur. Another legend says that Jesus himself walked the lands of England with his father, Joseph, when visiting these shores for trading – inspiring the hymn ‘Jerusalem’, based on William Blakes 1804 poem ‘And did those feet’.

However, since both of these mythic claims seems incredibly unlikely and are impossible to substantiate (if only romantic and exciting), we will focus on what we can and do know.

The Truth

Unlike other Christian incursions into places, Christianity did not arrive in Britain with pomp or ceremony. It came here as a dangerous idea. A secret whisper. A way of life only spoken about on fear of death.

Christianity likely first came to Britain with the arrival of Roman soldiers. These would have been secret Christians, who left behind no trace of their beliefs. It was dangerous to be a Christian in the Roman world, and any soldiers who were followers of ‘The Way’ would have very much kept that fact to themselves.

Such secrecy means we have no way of knowing precisely when or how many Christians came to Britain in its earliest years of Roman occupation, but we do know that they would have been traders and soldiers, likely from the east or from areas of Spain and Gaul.

Whatever the specifics, we do know that by the third-century there were small Christians communities dotted throughout Britannia, and this is when we find tales of the first Christian Martyrs in British history – Ss Alban, Aaron and Julius. This tells us that Christianity must have arrived earlier, but probably not by much since Irenaeus of Lyon fails to mention any British churches at the end of the second century, despite noting several in Gaul.

The pre-Christian Roman Empire was a time of great waves of persecution for the Church, with horrific public executions being performed. It therefore makes sense that our records of precisely when and how Christianity arrived are opaque since no records were kept.

Christianity would become the religion of Rome, but before it did, it was seen as a dangerous religion of rebels and cannibals. People who ate the body and blood of their God in dark ceremonies, and who refused to participate in worship of the Roman Gods. Furthermore, these were people who would not bow to their emperor or profess his divinity. They were political and religious terrorists, radicals, and outcast, and should be put to death.

And speaking of death, let us deal first with the martyrdom of St Alban.

St Alban

We know from works such as Passio Albani that Alban had not heard of Christianity long before his martyrdom. The story goes that during a time of persecution; a priest arrived in Alban’s town, Verulamium, attempting to preach the faith. Moved by the man’s prayers and piety, Alban sheltered him. The time he spent with the priest convinced Alban to renounce his pagan ways and become Christian.

Eventually, the priest’s hiding place was discovered, but when soldiers came to arrest him, Alban put on the priests clothing and let the priest escape. He told the soldiers that he was the priest and was arrested. When questioned by the judge, Alban told him that he was a Christian and refused to renounce his newfound faith or make a sacrifice of atonement to the Roman gods. For this, Alban was flogged and then taken out of the town, across the River Vel (a tributary of the Thames), and up onto a hill where he was executed.

Alban’s time with the priest had been too short for him to be baptised, and so his baptism into Christianity was one of blood.

A moving story, but although we know the date of his execution (22^nd June), we do not know the year. Gildas and Bede suggest the earlier fourth century, and as such, it has been common to say his date of martyrdom was c.304.

Some historians believe that the date of his execution was in the early third century, such as 208-11. However, new research points to a slightly later date between 249-60 when there was serious persecution being carried out under the emperors Decius (249-51) and Valerian (253-60).

The reason for rejecting the dates proposed by Gildas and Bede are simply because they seem to be too late. For Alban to hear about Christianity for the first time from this priest, it must have been earlier than 400 since Christianity was more widespread by the end of then, and it is likely that, had Alban lived around 400, he would have already known about it.

Also, this later date is too close to the 313 Edict of Milan when Emperor Constantine legalised Christianity across the Roman Empire. Prior to its legalisation, the persecution of Christians had begun to subside, and so it is unlikely that Alban’s martyrdom could have occurred in this period.

Whatever the case, Alban’s martyrdom is a moving story of defiance, faith, and Christian holiness. Today, his feast day is celebrated on 22 June, and the hill upon which his execution took place has been named ‘St Albans’. In St Albans, there is a great cathedral dedicated to him, supposedly on the spot of his execution, showing us what an important figure he was in early British Christianity.

But what about Ss Aaran and Julius?

St Aaron and St Julius

Aaron and Julius were martyred at Caerleon, in South Wales, and little is known beyond that statement. Gildas records their martyrdom, among the earliest in British history, simply by saying “Aaron and Julius, citizens of Caerleon… displayed the highest spirit in the battle-line of Christ.” (Gildas, De Excidio.10.19). This naturally gives us little to no information about them.

However, there are some things we can know.

Caerleon was a large and important fort in the Roman occupation of Wales (as mentioned in a previous newsletters). This means we can guess that both Aaron and Julius were Roman soldiers. Julius, particularly, was a very popular name in the Roman army, and we have many epitaphs across the Roman world to soldiers called Julius. Aaron is a little trickier to place since it is a rare name in the Roman world, but their being featured together by Gildas suggests that they were martyred together, and so the suggestion that they were both soldiers holds.

Furthermore, we know from other parts of the Roman world that soldiers did convert to Christianity, and that some of these converts would renounce their oaths to the emperor, being executed for their treachery.

Secondly, we can be fairly certain that the date given by Gildas and Bede for their martyrdom, at the beginning of the fourth century, is wrong. Gildas is working on the belief that they were killed as a part of the persecution of Christians under the Emperor Diocletian, but this wave of persecution did not reach Britain. Additionally, we know that the fortress at Caerleon was abandoned in the late third century, and so the execution of soldier there would have been impossible.

Instead, a likelier date for their executions was at a similar time to Alban, around 249-260 under the empire-wide persecutions instructed by Decius and Valerian.

Today, these two martyrs are less known than Alban, and a cult in their honour was limited. We have a sculptured cross slab from the ninth-century, and record of their martyrdom in The Book of Llandaff from the same period, but beyond that there is little said about them.

Were there other notable Christians in Roman Britain though?

Other Christians

Beyond Ss Alban, Aaron and Julius, we have little to go on with regards to Christianity in Britain. We have some other Christians mentioned by Gildas such as Bishop Augurius of London, and eight other unnamed martyrs of Britannia, but not much else.

We do, however, know that by 314 – the year after the Edict of Milan – there was a more structured and functional Church in Britain.

Constantine called a Church council at Arles, and we know that three English Bishops were summoned – London, York, and Colonia Londiniensium (likely Lincoln). This shows us that not only did Britain now have an established church, but that it was public, and in communion with the Church catholic on the continent.

We also have some archaeological evidence that points to Christianity becoming more widespread in Britain after the Edict of Milan, such as the ‘Hinton St Mary Mosaic’, dated to the fourth century, which depicts Christ at the centre with the Chi Ro behind his head. This large mosaic can be seen on display in the British museum, and was a part of the floor of what may have been a villa.

For more information on the early British martyrs and spread of Christianity in Britain, I would recommend Malcolm Lambert’s 2010 book Christians and Pagans: The Conversion of Britian from Alban to Bede.

And so, after being in hiding and seeing its proponents killed, Christianity had spread in Britain and become a normal part of daily life for the Romano-British citizens in the newly urbanised Roman centres.

However, next week we will see what happens when Rome withdraws, and Britian is left to fend for itself. Will Christianity, let alone any other aspects of Roman life survive? You will have to wait until next week to find out.

Until then, have a great week.

Tom

Image Credits:

Title Image – Hinton St Mary Mosaic – https://www.bmimages.com/preview.asp?image=00172859001

Monty Python and the Holy Grail – https://drafthouse.com/show/monty-python-and-the-holy-grail

Spread of Christianity Map – https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/316026098828188565/

Christian Martyrs in Rome – https://es.pinterest.com/pin/541980136396884840/

St Alban – https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/saint-alban--56013589113081716/

St Alban’s Cathedral – http://www.thehistoryblog.com/archives/category/medieval/page/20

Ss Aaron and Julius – https://tridentine-mass.blogspot.com/2021/07/saint-leo-ii-683-ad-saints-julius-and.html

Caerleon – https://www.visitwales.com/attraction/historic-site/caerleon-roman-fortress-baths-532041

Gildas – https://www.thecollector.com/who-was-gildas/

Hinton St Mary Mosaic – https://www.bmimages.com/preview.asp?image=00172859001

Hello,

Welcome back to The Case For More Substack for our next edition of History Wednesdays.

Last week we saw how the Romans attempted to finally conquer the Scots through the Battle of Mons Graupius. However, despite Roman victory the Scots remained unconquered, and we finished by noting that all the ground gained by Agricola’s campaigns in Scotland was abandoned – Rome had learned its limits.

Today we jump forward a couple of decades to the construction of Hadrian’s Wall, and consider what life in the newly Romanised England was like as conquest turned into governance, and the invaders became part of Britain itself.

With the Romans out of Scotland, raiders from the Caledonian tribes had still continued to bother the Romans Northern England. The military campaigns to keep the Welsh and Scots under control had been expensive, and in Scotland, had ultimately been futile.

Britian did not look like the prosperous province the Romans had initial desired or envisioned, and it was becoming more of a pain to keep it, than to let it go.

When the Emperor Hadrian visited Britain in 122AD, this is precisely the conclusion he came to. In order to keep Britain in the Roman Empire, and turn it into a stable and prosperous society, something drastic had to be done.

Hadrian therefore took an approach that was relatively unique to the Roman mind – he decided that stability could be better achieved through defence than offence.

Hadrian order that, instead of campaigning north and crushing the tribes as they had already tried and failed to do, they would instead create a defensive structure to keep the tribes out of Northern England. By protecting the north, keeping the Welsh under pressure, and allowing for peace within the Provence of Britannia rather than instead of military rule, Hadrian could get his ideal Britain.

In 122AD, Hadrian therefore order that a great wall should built from east to west, drawing a definitive line between the newly civilised Roman Britain, and the barbarians to the north.

And that’s precisely what was done.

A wall, 73 miles (80 Roman miles) long was built from coast to coast, defining the border and protecting Northern England from the Scots beyond.

Now, ‘wall’ may be a slight misnomer, ‘fort’ may be better. Initially, only the eastern portion of the wall was stone, the west was turf. Instead, a great ditch had been dug that allowed for a defensive position to be mounted in the event of an attack. At each Roman mile, there was a small rectangular fort called a ‘milecastle’, that allowed manned defence and 24/7 observation. Finally, a system of roads was built to supply and support the defensive efforts at the wall.

In total, around 10,000 men would have manned the wall once completed, and it became a formidable symbol of the Roman’s desire to protect their new province from interference.

Hadrian’s wall was updated and expanded over time, and the turf section to the west did eventually receive a stone wall. However, what is important for our attention now is not the wall itself, but what it was protecting.

By building the wall, Hadrian made a clear division of ‘us, and them’.

Over time, ‘the us’, the British, did become a people apart from their increasingly distantly related tribal cousins to the north. There was a brief attempt to construct a wall further north under Emperor Antonius Pius, but this failed and Hadrian’s wall became the boarder. And therefore, Hadrian’s plan had, in part worked, and south of the wall Britain began to become Romanised and peaceful.

However, I say ‘in part’. Romanisation took place heavily near Roman towns, garrisons, and even in the communities that sprung up along Hadrian’s wall. But in the hills and forest, away from urbanisation and Romanisation, many Britons continued to live much as they had done. This was also truer in Wales, Cornwall, and even parts of the north of England than it was for the South. Due to trading links with the continent, and being closer to the mainland empire, the south and centre of England Romanised much faster and more significantly than other areas in Britain.

However, for the time being, we are not going to pay much attention to these native Britons who were not Romanised. After Agricola they mostly kept themselves to themselves. They will become important again when Rome withdraws, but for now it is suffice to say that their un-Romanised way of life continue in private and secret.

Our focus for thew next couple of newsletters then is going to be on Roman Britain, and specifically the Romanised areas and societies – mainly urban or military – so let us keep our eyes south of the wall.

In urbanised England, Roman life had begun to be adopted in full. Villas were built (such as at Littlecote – pictured above), roads began to join cities and towns together, and trade was flowing well. With raids decreasing and peace abounding, Britain began to become the prosperous and civil society Hadrian had desired.

Ethnically too, things were less divisive. Those Britons that wished to join Roman society did so, and in time, many Roman soldiers had married Brittonic women and had children in their new land. When they were discharged from duty, many of these soldiers settled in England and their families grew as Britons and Romans became merged.

The economy of Britain flourished too. A coin-based economy was in full swing. Mining in Wales and Cornwall was pouring wealth into Britain, and the wealth allowed for the construction of great and ornate villas. With money to spare, taverns and bathhouses sprang up across the province (such as in Bath – pictured above), and Roman goods from the Mediterranean and Middle East became increasingly common in Britain.

Even in terms of religion, there was surprising peace. The Romans had a view that many of the Gods were the same Gods with different names. Whilst they brought their own system of gods, and constructed temples in their honour (such as Leptis Magna – pictured below), many Britons continued to worship their native gods, or join growing religions and cults such as the Cult of Mithras.

All in all, the wall worked. Britain had gone from a tribal backwater full of infighting, raids, and military activity, to a flourishing, profitable, and peaceful province. Hadrian’s decision to decide who was in, and who was out, had worked, and in many respects, Britain was all the better for it. Britain was finally at peace, and for the next couple of centuries, Roman life thrived.

Into this peace, however, was about to be thrown a new philosophy. A religion in the East was growing, and it was making its way towards the shores of England.

Next week we will be looking at the coming of Christianity to Britain, and the stories and martyrdoms of Ss. Alban, Aaron, and Julius.

Until then, have a great day.

Tom

Image Credits:

Title Image – Hadrian’s Wall – https://maximumadventure.com/adventure/hadrians-wall-marathon-self-guided/

Roman Legionaries – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Roman_legion_at_attack.jpg

Hadrian’s Wall map – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antonine_Wall#/media/File:Hadrians_Wall_map.svg

Hadrian’s Wall Blueprints – https://www.architecturecourses.org/learn/hadrians-wall-northumberland-architecture

Birdoswald Fort – https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/3189814

Hadrian’s Wall image – https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/visit/places/hadrians-wall/?awc=5928_1496248954_a6971bb15bb7888af10c214b71df9ab0&awc=5928_1496248954_a6971bb15bb7888af10c214b71df9ab0

Map of Roman Britain – https://www.heritagedaily.com/2021/05/the-leptis-magna-roman-ruins-near-london/139295

Littlecote Roman Villa Mosaic – https://www.artofit.org/image-gallery/482659285075529602/the-beautiful-4th-century-orpheus-mosaic-at-littlecote-roman-villa-in-wiltshire/

Romans baths in Bath – https://traveldigg.com/roman-baths-the-oldest-roman-baths-site-in-the-uk/

Leptis Magna Temple ruins – https://www.heritagedaily.com/2021/05/the-leptis-magna-roman-ruins-near-london/139295

Emperor Hadrian bust – https://totallyhistory.com/hadrian/

Hello,

And welcome back to History Wednesdays. We ended last week on a bit of a cliff hanger. Agricola had decided that instead of throwing his full legionary might against the 30,000-strong Caledonian army, he would send his 8,000 auxiliaries. Furthermore, before they could even reach Calgacus’ main force, they had to cross open ground that was littered with charioteers. It is here that we pick up today.

As Agricola’s auxiliaries tried to cross the field to the slopes on which Calgacus’ army stood, they were bombarded with swooping attacks by the well-practiced charioteers of the Caledonians. They would speed into the Roman shield wall, delivering severe damage, and then pull away again before they could be harmed.

To protect against these chariot attacks, Agricola ordered his auxiliaries to spread out from their wall-like formation into a looser fighting pattern. Opening gaps in their front meant that the chariots could be funnelled into killing corridors and the auxiliaries made short work of their foe.

With most of the chariots dealt with, Agricola’s auxiliaries closed in on the main Caledonian front, and both sides began to launch missiles at one another. For the Romans, this was little bother as their broad shields gave them shelter from the Caledonian spears. However, the exceptional smithing of the Roman javelins meant that the Scottish shields were no match for the sharpened spear tips of Agricola’s forces, and many Scots died before the lines even touched.

As the Roman auxiliaries crashed up against the Caledonian ranks, any advantages the Scots may have had quickly became meaningless. Their long swords and spear were not suited to such close quarters fighting, and the Roman gladii (short swords) made swift work of the Caledonian front. As the auxiliaries pushed onwards and up the slope, those Roman soldiers further back in the shield wall trod on the dead and dying, using the edges of their heavy shields to smash to pieces the bodies of any survivors.

Seeing that the Romans were pushing forwards, Calgacus order his calvary to flank Agricola’s auxiliaries and surround them, but Agricola was ready for this. He sent his own cavalry, 3,000 strong, to fend off against encirclement and to leave his auxiliaries free to press forwards. The wild and individual nature of the Caledonian riders was no match for the well-disciplined Roman cavalry who chased them off into the hills.

Having dispatched of the charioteers and now engaging in a bloody battle to push the Caledonians back up the slope, the Roman auxiliaries were beginning to tire. The Scots saw their opportunity and tried to flank the auxiliary force for a second time. But once again Agricola had planned for this. He sent his remaining cavalry in to protect the flanks of his auxiliaries, and they cut down the enveloping Caledonians just in the nick of time. These flanking Scots were not the mighty warriors of the front lines, and were less well armed, trained, and experience. The Romans made easy work of butchering them as others fled.

It seemed hopeless, and the Caledonians began to retreat into the hills and forests behind them. The Romans, and Agricola himself, pursued them and were met with some guerilla resistance as they chased down the survivors. However, these guerilla-style efforts were ultimately unsuccessful, and the battle was a clear victory for Agricola’s army – and his auxiliaries in particular.

Tacitus suggests that around 10,000 Caledonians were killed in the battle, with only 360 Roman casualties. Whilst this is likely propaganda, it does show the scale of the Roman victory. As for Calgacus, it is likely that as a warrior of noble status he would have been among the charioteers, and therefore likely died early in the battles. Whatever his fate, suffice to say we never hear of him again.

So, a decisive Roman victory? Not quite.

Although the Romans did win the battle, very little changed in Scotland. It did not become a new Roman province as intended; the locals did not become Romanised; no permanent occupation followed; and the forts of Agricola’s advance were abandoned soon after. From 85-90AD the Romans slowly pulled out of Scotland, eventually stopping at the line that would later become Hadrian’s Wall. There were later attempts to push into Scotland again, and a more northern position called the Antonine wall was held for a short time, but Hadrian’s Wall ultimately became the dividing line between the Romanised England and the wild Scottish lands for the next few centuries.

Several factors in Rome played a role in Scotland’s continued freedom. The Emperor Domitian was not best pleased by Agricola’s growing popularity and so had recalled him to Rome. Furthermore, the conquest had been expensive and seen little reward; holding Scotland and maintaining an occupying force there was difficult and just not worth the effort. Over time, there seemed to be an acceptance that to the north were a people and a land that could never truly be conquered. Ultimately, the Romans had lost their appetite for such a gruelling occupation to the north.

Ironically for Rome, their victory at Mons Graupius convinced them to stop winning. They had no need to continue their push into Scotland anymore and instead opted for defensive strategies like the building of Hadrian’s Wall.

And it is with the building of the wall that we shall pick up our story next week.

Until then, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your week, and are looking forward to our next book review on Friday.

Tom

Photo Credits:

Title Image – https://dariusz-bufnal-imaging-battles.blogspot.com

Pictish Charioteer – https://es.pinterest.com/pin/44543483795292201/

Roman Tortoise formation – https://se.pinterest.com/pin/513691901228341896/

Map of the Battle – https://www.forcesnews.com/long-reads/rome-comes-scotland-lost-battle-mons-graupius

Roman Warriors – https://imperiumromanum.pl/en/roman-army/power-of-roman-military/

Hadrian’s and Antonine’s Walls – https://www.forcesnews.com/long-reads/rome-comes-scotland-lost-battle-mons-graupius

Hello,

And welcome back to History Wednesdays for our first edition of the new year. If you are new to The Case For More, welcome! Over the past couple of months, we have been working our way through the origins of England, one newsletter at a time. Our aim with these newsletters is to consider how Britain was formed, from the earliest origins of its people in ancient history, up to and including the Norman conquest of 1066. This week, we are going to reach the climax of Agricola’s part in our story with the infamous battle of Mons Graupius in the Scottish Highlands.

As we finished with last week, Agricola and his men had used a combined land and sea strategy to burrow deep into Scotland. They had worked their way up the relative flatness of the East coast, carving roads through the valleys and woodlands as they went. Most vitally, Agricola had built a series of forts at key locations such as river crossings, hills, and movement corridors, rendering resistance from the local clans near impossible. However, as winter had come and icy cold prevented further expansion, the Romans had shut themselves up in their forts for the winter. But whilst the Romans rested, the Caledonians were preparing for defence.

As winter became spring and the new year of 83AD drew on, new Roman advances meant that the Caledonians could no longer avoid a head on confrontation with the legions. Whilst the Britons preferred guerilla warfare – raiding and then disappearing back into the terrain from whence they came – the Roman preferred pitched battle, and Agricola had found a way to force it.

In the later stages of 83AD, the Romans decided to attack the granaries of the Caledonian people. With the harvest season just finishing, these granaries were not only full, but vital to sustaining the people over the cold winter months. In desperation to defend against this attack a man named Clagacus, rose up as a leader of the Caledonians.

All we know about Calgacus comes to us through the Roman writer Tacitus. Whilst some historians doubt Calgacus’ existence, it seems almost certain that some leading figure like him rose at this time, and so for our purposes we shall call him Calgacus. With Agricola making a beeline for the Caledonian granaries, Calgacus, whoever he was, was left with two choices – pitched battle, or starvation.

The choice, unfortunately, was not a hard one, and so Calgacus summoned up his allies, and they made ready to block the Roman advance at a place called Mons Graupius.

Now, as already said, there is a lot we don’t know about this battle. Firstly, whilst 83AD is the assumed date, there is some suggestion it could have been in 84AD – although this is less likely. Furthermore, in addition to doubt about the existence of Calgacus, historians are not sure of the location of the battle, something that remains a consistent debate in the Roman-age archaeology of Scotland today. Some suggest Aberdeenshire, other the Grampian foothills. Regardless, we know it likely took place in the Northeast of Scotland. Additionally, the only record we have of the battle comes from Tacitus, and given that he is a Roman writer, some bias and exaggeration can be assumed.

Despite these factors, we know enough about it to get a good picture of what may have happened. We do, for example, know about the geography of the battlefield. We know that it was flat, with hills to the rear of the Caledonians, and plenty of room for Agricola to manoeuvre his cavalry. This was ground that favoured the Romans with their strict discipline more than the raiding style of the Scots.

Tacitus opens his record of the battle with an imagined speech by Calgacus to his Caledonian warriors. It is a truly eloquent and beautiful soliloquy on the themes of freedom and resisting tyranny, revolting against the Romans, and how the Caledonians might once and for all overthrow the imperial yoke. You can read it for yourself here, but it rings very strongly of Braveheart stylism – which suggests that the Mel Gibson may have read Calgacus’ speech when considering his own in that iconic movie about Scottish freedom.

Speaking of the barbarism of the Romans, Calgacus delivers the famous line, “They make a desert (solitude) and call it peace”. Calgacus knew that if he and his army were to fail, there would be nothing left of their society; they and their way of life would be erased from history as the Romans had done to countless other Brittonic tribes before them. This was a battle for their very existence.

Agricola’s speech on the other hand was not about freedom or resistance, but was aimed at fortifying his soldier’s minds. This was not a fight against one tribe, this was about taking peace, order, and security to the edge of the world. The Romans were fighting for glory, strength, honour, and to bring civility to what they saw as chaotic and barbarous lands.

With the speeches completed, it was time for war.

Agricola had 15-20,000 soldier in his command, meaning they were outnumbered nearly two-to-one by the 30,000 strong horde in Calgacus’. However, the Romans and Caledonians used completely different fighting styles. The Caledonians would swarm en masse, but their fighting was done individually, man to man, there was no formation or cohesiveness. The Romans on the other hand were well trained, armoured, and disciplines. They worked as a unit, not as individuals, and this worked to their advantage.

Whilst the Scots would throw everything at the battle – this was a fight for their survival after all – Agricola, knowing he would still have to man his forts even if he lost, was more cautious. Instead of throwing his full might at the Scots, he sent just his auxiliaries, around 8,000 men, to take on the 30,000 Caledonian warriors.

At Agricola’s command the Roman auxiliaries moved forward and crossed into the flat land that lay between them and the Caledonians who had formed a curved front on the raised ground ahead – the battle had begun. However, between the Roman auxiliaries and the main Caledonian force lay a field of charioteers, armed, fast, and experts at swopping attacks.

How will the auxiliaries fair against the Caledonian chariots? If they do manage to cross the field, how will they defeat an army nearly four times their size? Will the auxiliaries be destroyed and Agricola be forced to send in the legions?

I’m afraid that to find exactly how the battle went you will have to wait until next week (otherwise this newsletter would have been nearly 2000 words long!!!).

In the meantime, I hope your first week back at work for the new year isn’t too bad, and I will write to you this Friday where we will be doing the first in our philosophy series.

Until then, have a great week.

Tom

Photo Credits:

Title Image – https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/pinterest--322077810850597947/

Roman Fort in Scotland – https://romansinscotland.com/roman-fort-layout/

Calgacus’ Speech – https://thehistorianshut.com/2019/08/10/the-battle-of-mons-graupius/

Mons Graupius – https://www.forcesnews.com/long-reads/rome-comes-scotland-lost-battle-mons-graupius

Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More’s History Wednesdays on the eve of the new year. I hope you have some lovely plans for New Year’s Eve, be they raucous or relaxing. I for one will likely just be trying to get a goodnights sleep!

Last week on our History Wednesdays newsletter we saw how, after decades of resistance, Wales fell quickly to the Romans once Agricola arrived. We ended by saying that, with Wales occupied, Agricola turned his sights north towards Scotland, and this is where we pick up today.

In 82AD, as Agricola was finishing smashing through the Brigantes of Northern England, he had one thing on his mind – to take Rome to edge of the known world.

It’s hard to think about it today with google maps, but Scotland truly did represent the northern edge of the known world, and the seas beyond it were mostly unknown – a tempting prospect.

Rome did not need Scotland, it now had all of the wealth of England and Wales at its fingertips, but it wanted Scotland. The slaves, mines, tin, hunting dogs, and fertile lands of England and Wales were not enough for the Romans, their eyes were now fixed on Scotland.

Agricola’s desire for Scotland was three-fold. Firstly, the lands of its northern tribes were safe havens for Brittonic rebels to escape to, re-arm, and continue their fight against Roman imperialism. Tactically, it is very hard to take a territory if there is still support and supplies for the guerilla fighters in other areas (exactly as the US found out in Vietnam and Afghanistan).

Secondly, glory.

The new emperor in Rome, Domitian, was hungry for increased power, glory, and prestige. Conquering further into the edges of the known world offered exactly this opportunity. As Tacitus records a Caledonian leader saying, ‘There are no lands beyond us, nothing but waves and rock’. An exciting prospect for an emperor and a general trying to make a name for themselves.

Thirdly, unconquered lands were unfinished business for the Romans. Their ideology was one of expansion and conquest. A whole unknown, unconquered land siting to their north was unacceptable, it must be brought under Roman control.

So, with his motivations ready, Agricola pushed north into Caledonia but faced issues he had not elsewhere in Britain.

Whilst Wales was mountainous and forested, it was not too hard to bring supplies in from England, especially along the low-lying coasts. Scotland was a completely different beast. The landscape was not farming land, and it was far from supply stations. The Romans could not march up neat roads and take food from farms along their way. Instead, what confronted them was a mountainous, forested land, with dangerous bogs, river crossings, lochs, pounding rain, and freezing weather – and yet we still insist on holidaying there! Agricola and his army could not live off the land as they had elsewhere, and so he was forced to innovate.

He assembled a massive fleet of ships. For the first time in the invasion of Britain, Agricola combined the land and sea might of Rome to build a naval force that would allow his troops to traverse the coastline with greater ease. Instead of marching through difficult forests, he and his navy could project power into places further north without being ambushed. His naval fleet also allowed him to resupply troops more easily, and scout the coastline and rivers for signs of resistance.

Psychologically, a great Roman fleet must have played a significant role. The Caledonians had never seen anything like this before. The size and agility of the ships, combined with the sheer number must have been a shocking sight for their spies on the coast.

Agricola also used other new tactics in Scotland, that made the Romans less prone to the guerilla style ambushes Brittonic tribes had used against them in the past. Instead of pushing deep into the territory to provoke pitched battle, Agricola moved slowly, making sure to build forts along the way to hold key strategic points such as river crossings, movement corridors, and high places. This cut of movement and supplies for the tribes, and prevented them from uniting in resistance.

Today, the remains of many of these forts are still visible in counties such as Fife and Perthshire. They tell a tale of a masterful general who understood the tactics of his enemies, and made sure that they could not be used against him.

As the Romans slowly moved north, they waged psychological warfare on the inhabitants too. What was once thick forest known only to locals, was now paved with great roads used to move and resupply troops, as well as to transport the materials needed to build the forts. Columns of troops now marched easily through what had once been dense woodland.

Agricola also had another, more devious tactic – divide and conquer.

It is easy to paint a Braveheart-esque romantic picture of a united Scottish people, ready to stand up to the Romans, but this was not the case. There were many different tribes and clans (e.g., Picts, Caledonii, Taexali etc.) that had ancient feuds with one another and Agricola exploited this. Through various deals and political puppeteering, he was able to get tribes to turn on one another, identifying their strongholds, killing their men, and turning the land over to Rome.

But as 82AD turned into 83AD, Agricola’s advance slowed and the Romans wintered down in their forts. They had pushed further into Caledonia than they had thought they would, but whilst they had all but conquered the Eastern coast, the central and Western highlands remained free.

And it is here that rebellion and resistance was brewing. In the bitter cold, the Scots did not hunker down for the winter, they plotted their revenge. Rome had gone too far, it had stretched itself too thin, and holding each fort was becoming more difficult. For Agricola, Caledonia had not yet been defeated, but the bitter cold meant little more could be done until winter was over, and so Agricola’s army bedded down and waited.

But one man saw this. One man watched as the Romans hid behind the walls of their forts. One man rose up to unite the tribes. And come the end of winter, this man would bring together the remaining might and ferocity of the Scots under one leader. That man was Calgacus, and as the Romans rested for winter, he prepared his warriors.

Next week we turn our attention to Calgacus and his Caledonian resistance as we gaze up at the mighty battle at Mons Graupius. But who will be victorious? The Romans or the Scots?

Find out next week by subscribing the The Case For More.

Happy New Year!

Tom

Photo Credits:

Title Image – https://www.historyfiles.co.uk/KingListsBritain/GaelsPictland.htm

Agricola statue – https://www.historyanswers.co.uk/ancient/roman-leaders-the-10-greatest-generals-of-ancient-rome/

Roman ship mosaic – https://www.heritagedaily.com/2020/10/the-classis-britannica-the-roman-navy-of-britannia/135939

Ardoch Roman Fort – https://romansinscotland.com/agricola-invasion-79ad/

Map of Agricola’s Campaigns – https://romansinscotland.com/agricola-invasion-79ad/

Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More’s History Wednesdays on this Christmas Eve.

Last week we saw how the Romans finally annihilated Boudica’s rebellion and that things were now looking more secure for the Romans in Southern and Central England. But to their West, the Welsh are still there, they have not forgotten Suetonius’ actions on Anglesey, and they will not go down without a fight.

Although Rome had been attempting to extend its power into Wales since around 47AD, it had not yet succeeded fully despite small victories. There are three main factors that contributed to this lack of full occupation.

Firstly, the tribal identity and alliances of the Welsh, particularly the Silures and Ordovices, made overthrowing them very difficult. Unlike other Brittonic tribes, these were not loosely bound raiders, they were well organised, experienced guerilla warriors, and loyal to their clan. Rome could not divide and conquer them as they had elsewhere, they had to attack them as one unit.

A second issue Rome faced was the terrain of Wales – particularly in the north. The Roman legions were excellent at maintaining formation in pitched battles, and even at using the field to their advantage. But there were no fields. In the Brecon Beacons and Snowdonia, the dense forests and mountainous landscapes made this near impossible. Wales was not the farmland of open fields it is today, it was covered in trees, tight valleys, and marching from place to place was near impossible. The Welsh tribes knew this, and they were on home turf. They knew the hills, the terrain, the valleys, and could use it to their advantage as they waged guerilla warfare on their would-be occupiers

Finally, the druids. These were the spiritual heart of the Britons. With their wonderous magical powers and rumours of human sacrifice, they gave courage to the Britons and put fear into the Romans.

Now, as we know, Suetonius had already dealt with the druids in our timeline, but the earlier resistance by Caratacus, and his retreat into Wales had taught the Welsh that the Romans weren’t invincible, and couldindeed be defeated. This gave them the strength and fortitude to continue their fight despite the destruction on Anglesey.

Although the Romans had contained the Welsh tribes in Wales, and stopped them helping or aligning with other Brittonic tribes, it was less ‘fish in a barrel’, and more like hungry piranhas in an underwater maze.

Furthermore, with the sudden Boudican rebellion, Suetonius’ conquest in Wales had been left incomplete, and with his withdrawal from Anglesey, Wales had once again been free of the Romans, and Anglesey had been reinhabited by the druids.

But in 77AD, the Roman governor of Britain, Gnaeus Julius Agricola, decided it was time to crush Welsh resistance once and for all. Like many generals after him, Agricola crossed into Wales to supress the pesky Welsh – and spoiler alert, he was mostly successful.

Southern Wales and the Silures that dwelt there had, by the time of Agricola, almost been entirely crushed. Successive Roman campaigns had put them on the backfoot, and the large garrison at Caerleon (pictured below) of the Second Legion Augusta had made resistance difficult. By doubling down on the efforts to wipe out the military aged males in the population, and to take farming land, Agricola’s consistent campaign of destruction meant that he finally conquered the Silures fully and established Roman occupation.

Agricola began his campaign into Northern Wales in 77AD, and almost immediately wiped out the Ordovices who had stood against Rome for the last three decades. Having crushed them, he made a beeline up to Anglesey.

This time however, there was no standoff, no druidic chanting, no hesitation. Agricola arrived, crossed the Menai Strait, and set to work dismantling the centre of Druidic power once and for all – killing the druids and destroying their shrines. By 78AD Agricola’s work was done, and the Welsh were finally occupied.

It was rather embarrassing for the Welsh. After thirty years of resistance, one new governor had managed to occupy them fully in the space of two years. However, notice I say ‘occupy’.

It is questionable as to whether Rome ever really did defeat the Welsh tribes, or whether they were just so significantly suppressed that they could not rebel. The same thing surely? Well, not quite.

In England, once the tribes were crushed, they very often became Romanised. We see Roman towns, villas, and roads – but we do not see these in Wales. The Romans occupied Wales, and held it until their withdrawal, but they never managed to make the Welsh into Romans as they did with the tribes in England. Instead, there was always tension, small raids, and the threat of larger organised resistance. And, away from the centres of Roman might, life went on mostly the same as it had before the occupation. What’s more, once the Romans withdrew, very little changed for the Welsh until the Irish and Pictish raids began.

Over our study of British history, we will see this trend time and again. The Welsh could not be conquered by Agricola, only occupied by a system of forts, barracks, and regular patrols. This is perhaps why Welsh language and culture remained in ways it did not in England. In England, we no longer have Celtic, or even Roman, culture and language – at least not in any meaningful sense. But the Welsh mostly still maintain Celtic life, language, and traditions despite two millennia of attempts by those in England to rid Wales of these vestiges.

However, from Agricola’s perspective, the work was done, and for all intents and purposes the Welsh were now sufficiently subdued so as to no longer represent a threat. And so, he turned North. Another group that will consistently thwart our study of English history, who would not subdue but continued to resist Rome, were now in Agricola’s sights – the Scots.

As Agricola smashed through the northern English tribes, notably the Brigantes, and made his way to Scottish border, the Caledonians were preparing to resist. As he built forts and secured Roman rule in Northern England, the Caledonians watched and waited. And as Agricola prepared for his next expansive campaign and reached the Forth-Clyde line, they were ready.

Will he succeed in Scotland or not? You’ll have to make sure you are subscribed to find out next week when Agricola crosses the Forth-Clyde border and heads into Scotland. In the meantime, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, and look out for a Christmas special newsletter on Boxing Day.

Have a very merry Christmas!

Tom

Photo Credits:

Title Image – https://www.roman-britain.co.uk/tribes/ordovices/

Snowdonia – https://www.active-traveller.com/advice/everything-you-need-to-know-before-climbing-snowdon

Welsh Tribes map – https://intarch.ac.uk/journal/issue48/9/box3.html

Caerleon – https://www.wildwalestours.com/single-post/2017/10/10/The-Roman-Fortress-Caerleon

Pictish Warrior – https://allthatsinteresting.com/picts

Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More.

We pick up this week with the story of the Boudica and Suetonius, both masterful generals in their own rights, and both wanting to take back control of the English heartlands (somethings never change!). Last week we saw how Suetonius’ terrifying campaign on Anglesey had been a great success. But back in England, specifically in what is today Norfolk, trouble was brewing with the Iceni and their leader Boudica who, after atrocities were committed against her and her daughters, had razed the Camulodunum (Colchester) to the ground and set her sights on Londinium (London).

However, it is back in Wales we return first.

Suetonius, having just defeated the druids and trying to take some well-earned rest, saw messengers coming up the valley bringing grave new. Camulodunum had been sacked, and a rebel Brittonic army, numbering in the tens of thousands, was headed south. Without letting his army rest, Suetonius got them in order and marched out of Wales for Londinium – assuming this was Boudica’s next target. He raced down Watling Street (pictured) in the hope of getting there first.

However, arriving in Londinium, Suetonius realised he had too few troops to hold the city. He had sped ahead on horse, but most of his soldiers were still marching down the road behind him. He had no choice but to order an evacuation and abandon the city to Boudica’s army. An army who had just destroyed Camulodunum and annihilated Ceriallis’ IX legion on the road as they headed to the capital. Arriving in Londinium, like with Camulodunum, Boudica’s army burned it to the ground and killed any who had not fled. Catus Decianus, the one who had started the whole debacle, fled for Gaul.

But Boudica’s wrath did not stop at there. Her great army had a lust for Roman blood and so marched north to Verulamium (St Albans) and put it to the torch. Things were looking bad for the Romans; Suetonius’ army was spread across Watling street; his troops were tired; and the Romans had now had their three major towns burned to the ground and their inhabitants killed. Ancient sources such as Tacitus describe the slaughter as truly brutal, and indicate that somewhere in the region of 70-80,000 were killed in Boudica’s campaign of revenge.

Suetonius was losing his grip on Britain. He gathered what troops he had and prepared for battle.

With around 10,000 troops made up from the XIV legion, detachments from the XX legion, and some auxiliaries, Suetonius’ army was massively outnumbered by Boudica’s, which likely numbered over 100,000. But Suetonius was a masterful general and picked a spot on Watling Street to make his stand, a place where he knew he could use the geography of the land to his advantage.

Now, exactly where on Watling Street the battle took place is still unknown, but Mancetter in Warwickshire is the most likely candidate. However, what we do know is that the geography of the land Suetonius had chosen meant that the Romans were protected by a forest at their rear, preventing encirclement, and had use of the contours of the land in front of them to create a bottleneck for Boudica’s forces.

An army of 100,000 becomes much smaller when only a few hundred at a time can actually face your army, and this was Suetonius’ gamble. The legions formed a shield wall that, like the fictional battle of Helm’s Deep in Tolkien’s Lord of The Rings, could block the advancing Britons and limit their force capabilities by narrowing their front. The stage was set then for one of the largest battles to ever take place on English soil, and the bloodshed, on a scale as yet unseen on these isles, was about to start.

As Boudica’s army advanced, the Roman’s launched pila (spear-like javelins) into their midst, killing a great number. As the wall of Britons approached, the Roman shield walls formed teeth-like wedges that sucked the tribal warriors into killing zones, allowing the legionaries to thrust at the Britons with their gladii (short swords) from both sides – the infamous Battle of Watling Street had begun.

The Roman auxiliaries on the flanks harried the Britons into the middle of the battlefield, making further prey for the teeth of the legions. The slaughter began to put fear into the hearts of the Brittonic warriors as panic and chaos set in. Like fish in a barrel the Roman were stabbing at them and cutting them down, hundreds at a time. Unsurprisingly, some Britons began to flee, but as they did so, from behind Suetonius’ ranks, his cavalry charged and cut down all in their path. Boudica ordered a retreat, but had made one very costly error.

It was custom for the families to travel with the army, and Boudica had placed them in a semi-circle at her rear to watch what she had assumed would be an easy win. However, instead of witnessing Brittonic victory, these wagons and the families around them acted like a fence. As the Romans advanced in formation from one end of the battlefield, the wagons blocked the escape route at the other.

The Brittonic warriors could not escape, they were trapped.

The Romans slaughtered everyone, and destroyed everything in sight. Ancient writers record that possibly around 80,000 Britons were killed in the battle, and only 400 Romans. Although these numbers are likely exaggerated in favour of the Romans, they do give us a good idea of how great Boudica’s defeat was.

Boudica fled the battle and died shortly afterwards. Tacitus says that she drank poison and killed herself. Cassius Dio suggests she fell ill and died honourably. Either way, we know Boudica died after the battle, and that she was not captured. Her daughters, on the other hand, seem to disappear from the historical record completely.

Naturally, all of the killing, destruction, and rebellion caused by Boudica did not sit well with the Romans. Although they had butchered Boudica’s army, they had had their three most important cities destroyed and thousands of their people killed. The retribution from Suetonius was, in true Roman style, utterly brutal.

Tribal leaders thought to be associated with the uprising were tortured and killed. Many survivors were enslaved and their lands were seized. The rebellious tribal kingdoms were fully absorbed and reorganised, and puppet rulers were all but abandoned in favour of full Roman control. Crops were destroyed and farmers were killed, restricting access to food for the Britons such that a mass starvation began.

In the end however, Suetonius’ genocidal retribution against the Britons was so brutal that Nero recalled him to Rome and replaced him with the gentler Julius Classicianus to bring the temperature back down. If Nero, an emperor known for brutality, thinks you’ve gone too far, it would be fair to say that Suetonius’ revenge must have been truly horrific.

After the Boudican revolt, things calmed down for a while in the lands of what is today southern and central England, and the Romans established relative peace. Small scale raids still occurred, and tribal resistance continued in isolated pockets, but nothing on the scale of the Boudican revolt.

As the Romans pushed into Northern England, there was one last large-scale resistance by the Brigantes in 69-71AD, but, being much smaller than Boudica’s revolt, was crushed by the legions. Instead, over time, Southern and Central England became Romanised as the benefits of the Roman way of life became apparent to the natives. This Romanised lifestyle would flourish there for the next couple of centuries until the withdrawal. The Romans pushed north too, all the way up to the Scottish Lowlands, Romanising the populations and creating centres of trade as they went – such as Eboracum (York).

Even in Dumnonia (Cornwall and Devon), whilst the Celtic tribe of the Dumnonii remained independent from Rome – and did so until the withdrawal – they had positive economic relations with them due to their wealth of tin. There was no war or rebellion here, just prosperity and trade.

However, to the west in Wales, and to the north towards Scotland, things were not so simple. As the Roman expansion pushed beyond the borders of England, it did so against severe resistance. And so, next week we turn our attention back to Wales where they have not forgotten the Roman butchery of their druids, and they too, like Boudica, want revenge.

Who do you side with more in this week’s ‘History Wednesdays’. The wrath of Boudica? Or the brutality of the Romans? Both were committing horrific acts, but is one more justified than the other? Let me know in the comments below. And as ever, please like, share, and if you haven’t already, subscribe to get our newsletters straight into your inbox.

Have a good week!

Tom

Photo Credits:

Title Image – https://mx.pinterest.com/pin/53550683047263855/

Watling Street Map – https://britishheritage.com/travel/watling-street

The Battle of Watling Street Map – https://www.roman-britain.co.uk/roman-conquest-and-occupation-of-britain/boudica-the-iceni-warrior-queen/boudica-the-battle-of-watling-street/

The Battle of Watling Street – https://www.warhistoryonline.com/ancient-history/3-ancient-battles-ended-complete_bloodshed.html

Boudica – https://www.britannica.com/place/Roman-Britain

Roman Britain Map – https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/513340057502658742/

Hello,

And welcome back to The Case For More Substack on this Wednesday morning. Last week, we saw how the Romans established a foothold in Britain, and finally tamed the tribal warlord Caratacus in 51AD following the Claudian invasion. This week, we pick up with a Roman Britain that is looking evermore settled.

After the defeat of the southeastern tribes, the Romans looked to establish a firmer hold on the ground it had won. Over the next decade they built roads, villas, forts, political connections, and a system of taxation.

Camulodunum (Colchester), once a centre of tribal power, had become a veteran colony for retired legionaries. Londinium (London), had been established on the banks of the Thames as a trading port and political centre with roads leading out from it across the newly conquered lands. The Romans had made their mark, and they were here to stay.

However, in the West, things were brewing. As will become a theme across our conversations on British history, the Welsh were not happy – some could say they were actively naffed off. And so, for the next few years, they raided into the West of the Roman expansion. Around 60AD the Roman governor Suetonius Paulinus had had enough, and decided once and for all that these persistent and rebellious Welsh tribes needed crushing. With this in mind, he made a fateful decision to hit them where it counted.

Suetonius battled along the Northern Welsh coast against the Deceangli and the mountainous Ordovices to make his way to Ynys Môn (Anglesey) – the homeland of the druids. The druids there were rumoured to be powerful, and with the strong currents and unpredictable weather on the Menai strait, it is easy to see why their magical powers were feared by the Romans. Their control over nature, combined with the devotion they inspired amongst the natives, and the rumours of human sacrifice, made them a terrifying opponent to the legions.

However, it is precisely because Anglesey represented the heartland of the tribal druidic religion that it was so important for Suetonius to crush them. And so, despite the eerie chanting and curses being hurled at them from across the strait, the Romans advanced in flat bottomed boats.

When they reached the island, they set about butchering the druids and destroying their sacred places (many of which you can still see remnants of, and I have had the pleasure of visiting on several occasions).

A victory perhaps then? Suetonius certainly thought so. But that was quickly about to change.

Earlier that year Prasutagus, a client king of the Romans, who ruled over the Iceni tribe of what is today Norfolk, had died. In his will, he had left half of his kingdom to the Roman Emperor Nero, and the other half to his daughters. At the time, this seemed like a good arrangement; it allowed his family to retain some control whilst also paying further fealty to Rome. But, upon his death, the Roman procurator of Britain, a man called Catus Decianus, decided that Prasutagus’ will was void.

Decianus invaded the lands of the Iceni, took the kingdom, demanded the repayment of massive loans, had Prasutagus’ wife Boudica flogged, and his daughters were raped.

Naturally, this did not go down well with Boudica, her daughters, or the Iceni. What is more, Decianus hadn’t counted on the fact that the majority of the Roman forces were engaged in Wales. And so, when Boudica rallied a force in revenge, there was little Decianus could do.

Boudica brought together a tribal army of the Iceni, the Trinovantes (who had had their lands taken by the Romans), and warriors of several other tribes. This huge Brittonic army had one thing on its mind – revenge.

Boudica’s marched south towards Camulodunum. As a city of regional importance to both the Romans and Britons, it was a prime target for Boudica’s wrath. However, there were other reasons for her to attack the city. Foremost, it was a town for retired legionary veterans and their families. The same people who had initial killed and enslaved her people were now sat unguarded, old, and vulnerable. Furthermore, Camulodunum was home to a temple built to honour the emperor Claudius as a God – the same man who had order the invasion of her island. Boudica therefore had good and manifold reasons to strike the city.

Receiving word that a great Brittonic force was advancing on them, the city begged for reinforcements. However, the 200 soldiers that arrived were no match for Boudica’s army of around 100,000. Her army invaded the city, and began to put its people to the sword, and its buildings to the torch. The hated Roman veterans were brutally killed, and their fleeing families were hunted like game.

Many survivors hoping to find refuge, fled to the Claudian temple, but this was a big mistake. With the survivors inside, Boudica order the temple be surrounded, and burned to the ground, killing all those sheltering inside. But Boudica was not done with Camulodunum – her wrath extended far beyond one city and its people.

As for Suetonius, weary but elated from his defeat of the druids, he began getting word of the events at Camulodunum, and even more concerning news that Boudica now had her sights set on Londinium. With little rest, he prepared his army and began marching down Watling Street to meet Boudica and defend Londinium.

But will he make it in time? Join us next week to find out what happens in the story of Boudica’s revenge. And as ever, please like, comment, and subscribe to grow this channel.

What do you think is more impressive, Suetonius and his military strategies? Or Boudica’s revenge and ability to bring together the tribes? Let me know down in the comments.

Until next time, have a great week.

Tom

Photo Credits:

Title Picture – https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/497577458818313011/

Camulodunum – https://www.reddit.com/r/papertowns/comments/vvw4ks/camulodunum_the_first_capitol_of_roman_britain/?rdt=38794

Celtic Druids – https://fity.club/lists/suggestions/Druid-Ancient-Religion/

Boudica - https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofEngland/Boudica/

Boudica’s army – https://www.roman-britain.co.uk/roman-conquest-and-occupation-of-britain/boudica-the-iceni-warrior-queen/

Good Morning,

And welcome back to The Case For More’s History Wednesdays. Last week we looked at Julius Caesar’s incursions into Britain as part of the Gallic wars. We also considered that, whilst the Romans may have appeared to have been successful, very little changed in the conquered regions of Britain – he left behind no garrisons, ruling structures, or permanent Roman presence. However, Julius Caesar’s raids into Britain did teach the Romans and Celts more about one another, meaning both were prepared to meet again.

We pick up this week with a new Caesar, Claudius, who is looking for fame, fortune, and notoriety back in Rome. He has his sights set on the land Julius Caesar had failed to fully tame, and decides it is time to bring the rebellious Britons under the rule of Rome once and for all.

Claudius was a man who needed a win; physically disabled, mocked by the Roman elites, and only emperor because of the assassination of Caligula; Claudius needed a big win, and where better than a land which had failed to succumb to the mighty Julius, and had a wealth of pearls, tin, slaves, and hunting dogs.

And so, in 43AD, under the guise of a diplomatic mission to help Verica, the exiled Brittonic king of the Atrebates, Claudius decided this was now the perfect excuse and opportunity to take the Britain once and for all.

Given that Rome now had knowledge of the Britons, and vice versa, Claudius was not taking any chances. He amassed a much larger force than that of the Julian invasion around a century earlier, with estimates suggesting this Claudian invasion force was around 40-45,000 strong, containing four legions (around 20,000 troops), an equal number of auxiliary forces (e.g., archers, cavalry, scouts), and a massive naval force to move them across The Channel.

The Claudian forces likely crossed in three waves, and made land in Kent in what is today Richborough. The opposition, the Catuvellauni (residing in what is today an area north of London and up towards Cambridgeshire and Milton Keynes) were led by the infamous Caratacus and his brother Togodumnus. Caratacus decided that unlike during the Julian invasions, his forces would not attack the Romans on the beaches and cliffs, but instead wait for the Romans to move inland. This allowed the Catuvellauni to use their superior knowledge of the land to their advantage. The Catuvellauni also had spies in Gaul and knew the Romans were coming; this time, even more than during the first Julian invasion, they were prepared to defend themselves.

The Roman forces, led by the experienced general Aulus Plautius, landed with relative ease and made their way north towards the Thames with very little resistance. However, upon reaching the Medway (east of London), the Romans ran into fierce resistance and battled onto a hard-won victory that came at considerable cost to their forces. However, Plautius had done what he needed to do, he had cleared a path to the Thames, and by extension, the underbelly of the Catuvellauni.

Another hard fight ensued across the Thames, but the Romans were victorious after, as the Roman writer Cassius Dio records, Roman auxiliaries in full armour swam across the river and outflanked the Catuvellauni’s forces. The battle also forced the retreat of Caratacus into Wales, and saw the death of his brother Togodomnus in the fray.

The Romans, having defeated the Catuvellauni, pushed onto their capital of Camulodunum (Colchester). At this time, Claudius, who had been waiting in Gaul for news, arrived in Britain with fresh troops, war elephants (a fearful sight for the native Britons), and political advisors. Whilst in Britain, he marched with the army into Camulodunum, and took tributes, and pledges of fealty and surrender from various tribal leaders. Naturally, this visit also gave Claudius the opportunity to take credit for the victory he had not been present for.

It seemed that at least a chunk of Britain was now under Roman rule, with troops and political forces stationed around the region, and a Roman propaganda machine in full spin to convince the natives to accept Roman rule. And although Claudius was only in Britain for 16 days, the impact has reverberated across history as, for the first time, it seemed Roman rule really was here to stay.

The Romans set up a regional capital in Camulodunum, and set about building roads, garrisons, a tax system, forts, retirement villas for soldiers, and puppet kings. Within the space of a few years, the southeast of Britain was completely and firmly under Roman control. By 47AD, Rome held Kent, Sussex, Hampshire, Essex, London, part of the Midlands, and the Severn Valley.

Caratacus, in hiding in Wales, united with several Welsh tribes and waged guerilla warfare against the advancing Romans, with some success. However, he was eventually capture in around 50-51AD and placed on trial. His defiant spirit and speech persuaded Claudius to spare him, and he lived out the rest of his days with his family in Rome, under Roman protection – becoming something of a celebrity there.

Whilst the Romans now had a firm grip on a large section of Britain, and a good foothold from which to launch further campaigns into the north and west of the British Isles, it would not all be plain sailing.

Next week we pick up with Boudica and her stand against the Roman advance. Will she be successful? Or will the might of Roman prevail once again? You likely already know the answer, but look out for next week’s edition of History Wednesdays with The Case For More where we will turn our attention to both Wales and East Anglia, and the uprisings that took place there.

As ever, please like, subscribe, comment, and share to help grow this Substack! Do you find Caratacus’ efforts admirable and inspirational as the underdog stood up to the might of Rome? Or do you think his comfortable retirement in Rome makes him a sellout?

Until next week, have a good day.

Tom

Photo Credits:

Title Image of Claudian Ships - https://www.roman-britain.co.uk/roman-conquest-and-occupation-of-britain/initial-claudian-invasion-and-conquest-43-60-ad/the-claudian-invasion-of-britain/

Emperor Claudius – https://englishhistory.net/romans/emperor-claudius/

Catuvellauni map - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catuvellauni#/media/File:Map_of_the_Territory_of_the_Catuvellauni.svg

Claudius on an Elephant – https://de.pinterest.com/pin/169659110953956907/

Roman road – https://www.odysseytraveller.com/articles/roman-roads-in-the-british-isles/

Caratacus – https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofEngland/Caratacus/

And welcome to the second edition of The Case For More’s History Wednesdays. Last week we looked at how we got here – the origins of Britain from the Stone Age up to the Celto-Brittonic period, just before the arrival of the Romans. And that is where we pick up today; with the first incursion into Britain by the Romans.

Although these events only take place over the course of around two years (55-54BC), they shattered the relative isolation of the island dwelling Celts (also called ‘Britons’ – I will use the names interchangeably) and showed them the might of Rome that laid across the sea. A might that few Britons, other than traders, had heard of before, let alone encountered.

Firstly, the setting.

Today, we can think of Britain as being a part of a global trade network, and a significant (albeit diminishing) player in the global economy. However, this was obviously not always the case. If you look at a modern world map, Britain is roughly in the North of the ‘central’ line dictated by our own invention – Greenwich Mean Time.

To the people of the Mediterranean world of the Greco-Roman empires, few knew of the Island that lay beyond Gaul (modern Northern France). Those that did, called it ‘Albion’/‘Brettanike’ in Greek, or ‘Prettanike’/‘Brettaniai’ in Latin – hence the name ‘Britons’ (for the people), and Britain today – and even ‘Albion’ when we are feeling particularly nostalgically nationalistic. Those scholars, explorers, and traders who knew of this land saw it as a wild place of painted people, war-like barbarians, and evil magical druids. Our name amongst the Romans, ‘Pritani’, even means ‘painted people’ – in the warrior sense, not the summer fete face-painting sense.

Whilst to the East of the Roman Empire the land expanse continued on towards what is today Iran and India, to the West, there was the great sea and the edge of the world. Britain then, before the discovery of America, was the edge of the known world, and a place of magic, mystery, and adventure.

However, the reality is quite different. Britain at this time was a great trading partner. Tin from Cornwall, gold from Wales, hunting dogs, slaves, and grains, were all being traded by the Britons with the other Celtic tribes (and sometimes the Romans) on mainland Europe. Whilst there is truth in its geographical isolation at the edge of the world, and its ferocious warring tribes armed with mystical druids and dangerous charioteers, Celtic Britain was by no means still stuck in the stone age.

However, the ever-increasing civility and structured social life of the Britons was nothing compared to the systematic, rich, and well-ordered Roman Empire.

Between 58-50BC, Julius Caesar (yes, the one who was stabbed in the back) was pursuing a campaign in Northern France against the Gauls called the Gallic Wars. During these wars, many of the Gaulish tribes received help from their Celtic cousins beyond the sea in Britain. And so, in order to crush those providing assistance to the Gauls, along with no shortage of desire for prowess, victory, and adventure, Julius Caesar crossed The Channel in 55BC with the aim of gathering intelligence about these tribes and, eventually, bringing them under Roman rule.

In the summer of 55BC Caesar set out from Boulogne with 80 ships, headed for the English coast. The might of one of the most powerful empires the world has ever seen, battled hardened from years of campaigns in Gaul, bearing down on a tiny and insignificant island at the edge of the known world – I think I’d put my money on Rome.

But it did not go to plan.

Firstly, storms battered the ships and delayed the ships carrying the horses. When Caesar eventually made it to the Kentish coast, the Britons – who had been forewarned by their spies in Gaul – were waiting for them.

Jumping into stormy seas, even near a beach, is hard enough in a wetsuit; but in full armour, the soldiers refused. In the end, Julius Caesar himself had to jump into the water and waded ashore to get his men to follow, shouting “leap, fellow soldiers, unless you want to betray your eagle to the enemy”.

As his soldiers finally approached the shore, the Britons, armed and ready with spears, stones, and chariots, bombarded the Romans, riding in and out amongst their battered and wet armour. Fierce fighting on the beaches and dunes ensued before, eventually, the Britons retreated. But with the absence of cavalry, Caesar could not pursue.

A terrible start for the might of Rome despite its minor victory.

As modern history tells us all too well, don’t fight a guerilla army in its own territory! The might of America against Vietnam – failed. The Soviets against Afghanistan – failed. The combined might of NATO against the Taliban – took a while, but ultimately, failed. The Romans, against the Britons – no different.

Over the next few months, as the Romans tried to push further into Britain, they failed time and again. Raiding parties and ambushes diminished their supplies and troop numbers. The Britons, appearing out of bushes and trees would attack, and then disappear back into the forest and countryside from whence they came.

By Winter, Julius Caesar was battered, beaten, fed up, and I suspect – knowing British weather – soaking wet and cold to the bone! He sensibly retreated back to Gaul and prepared for the following campaign season.

In 54BC he returned with vengeance. This time with 5 legions (around 25,000 soldiers), 2,000 calvary, and over 800 ships. Overwhelmed by the size of the Roman force, the Britons put up little initial resistance at first.

Although many of the same guerilla tactics were used, the combination of Caesar’s previous experience with them, and the sheer size of the Roman advance, meant that the Britons did very little real damage to the legions.

The advance swiftly made it across the Thames, having crushed most of the Cantaici who occupied Kent at the time along their way.

Having crossed the river, they met resistance in pitched battle from an army assembled across multiple tribes by Cassivellaunus. However, Caesar allied with Cassivellaunus’ sworn enemies the Trinovantes (from what is today Suffolk) and crushed the Brittonic tribal army, who had to resort back to guerilla tactics.

The campaign ended with Caesar looking, at least to those back in Rome, victorious. Hostages were taken from several tribes, tributes were paid to Rome, and puppet/Roman-sympathetic tribal leaders were placed in power– including within the Trinovantes.

To those back in Rome, Julius Caesar had done it! He had conquered the edge of the known world and brought it under the submission of Rome. This gave him military prestige, and it gave the Romans a foothold in Britain from which they could gain intelligence about the rest of the British Isles, increase trade, and extract wealth through materials and slaves.

However, whilst to the Romans this looked like a great defeat, in reality, Caesar had not got much further into Britain than the Thames. No permanent force was left in Britain, the tributes were mostly symbolic (and probably never collected), and tribal life in the British Isles continued pretty much as it had for centuries.

All in all, it could be said that Julius Caesar’s campaign in 55-54BC was a worthless one, and in many respects, this is true. However, for both the Britons and the Romans, it left a lasting impression. Both now had a better understanding of the other (particularly with regards to military prowess and strategy), and both could use this to their advantage in any future engagements. This was particularly true for the Romans who had Julius Caesar’s own written accounts of the campaign – his Commentary on the Gallic Wars – to which they could refer.

And so, nearly a century later, when Rome decided to once again try to conquer Britain, both parties were prepared for one another.

Next week we pick up with Rome’s second invasion into Britain, with the Claudian conquest of 43AD. Will they fair any better? Will lasting rule be established this time? Make sure you have subscribed to find out next week on The Case For More’s History Wednesdays.

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One for the comments this week – who do you side with more, the Celts, or the Romans? I’ve got to say, I love the Celtic rebelliousness and free spirit. But the sheer might and order of the Roman legions is magnificent, if ultimately unsuccessful.

Have a great rest of your week.

Tom

Photo Credits:

Roman Warships attack Britain – https://www.britannica.com/technology/naval-ship/Rome

Painted Celts – https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/537687643008102890/

Julius Caesar – https://www.nationalgeographic.com/history/history-magazine/article/julius-caesar-crossing-rubicon-rome

Map of Caesar’s Incursion – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julius_Caesar%27s_invasions_of_Britain#/media/File:Campagne_Bretagne_-54.png