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Chapter 5.1: Saxon
settlement and rebellion
Fabio P.
Barbieri
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The revolt of the Saxons, dated to
442 by the Gaulish Chronicle of 452[1], is our next firm date
after the arrival of Palladius to Ireland. Posterity
sees the settlement and subsequent rebellion of
one or more North German tribes as the dominant
feature of "Vortigern"'s reign,
partially or totally forgetting the Pelagian
crisis; and Gildas' report of the Saxon war,
which is revealing beyond his own expectations,
is probably the most famous part of all his book.
In spite of its Ambrosian
allegiance, The ruin has little of what we
might call the black legend of Vortigern. Later
generations never tired of blackening the king's
character, so that by the time of William of
Malmesbury his evil extended systematically over
the Dumézilian three functions, "a man
calculated neither for the field [second
function] nor for the council [first
function] but wholly given up to
the lusts of the flesh, the slave of every vice,
a character of insatiable avarice, ungovernable
pride, and unquenchable lust [third function]". But in
Gildas' time, when credible if biased records
were available, he was not remembered as very
wicked. Even E, in the middle of a
ferocious controversy entailing nothing less than
the future of the island, had not felt able to
ascribe malignitas to him - only nequitia.
And Gildas' judgement is of a piece with this.
Though he had overthrown Ambrosius' father and
forced, or tried to force, the pro-Pelagian
compromise on the British church, Gildas blames
him not for deliberate wickedness, but for
stupidity - a stupidity shared by the whole
ruling class. His blindness was
the instrument of divine punishment over a wholly
corrupt order of society.
According to Gildas, the call to
the pagan tribes followed a great plague. The
plague is probably alluded to in E's description
of illness (admittedly moral) seeping among the
country, the first part of which is a quotation
from Isaiah. "Filii... sine lege,
dereliquistis Deum et ad iracundiam prouocastis
Sanctum Israel. Quid adhuc percutiemini
apponentes iniquitatem? Omne
caput languidum et omne cor maerens; a planta
pedis usque ad uerticem non est in eo
sanitas." Sicque agerint cuncta quae
saluti contraria fuerint, ac si nihil mundo
medicinae a uero omnium medico largiretur:
"'lawless children, you abandoned God and
provoked the Holy One of Israel. Why should
you be struck to such a point, and still add
iniquities? Every head is enfeebled,
every heart in mourning: from the sole of the
foot to the crown there is no health in him.'
And so they would do everything that conflicts
with health [or: salvation], as if
no medicine had been given by the true Healer of
all to the world". It is worth
noticing that the last sentence, which does not
come from Isaiah but is an editorial comment,
deliberately adds to the prophet's medical
metaphor, underlining his core message of
spiritual and physical decay.
It has been said that the fifth
century was not an age of great plagues. We
certainly do not hear of disasters to match the
Justinianic plague of the 540s, but then we do
not know enough to exclude the possibility of one
such in Britain alone. Indeed, if I am
correct in reading allusions from two separate
sources in Gildas, then we have two separate
indications that such a plague took place, one of
which - E - sounds like it had been written while
the plague itself raged. The Spanish chronicler
Hydatius mentions a major pestilence in Spain
about 440. This is at least eight years out
and cannot be the same, but it does show that it
is at least possible to envisage one just as
devastating in Britain. The Chronicle of
452 speaks vaguely of Britanniae usque and
hoc tempus uariis cladibus eventibusque latae,
"the Britains, condemned until this time to
different kinds of chances and calamities",
which does sound as if it might refer to plague
as well as war (and also as if the writer wanted
to be deliberately vague - I wish I knew about
what). The Mild King's dethronement might
also come under uariis euentibus,
different kinds of chances. That they were
"condemned", latae, to all these
various disasters suggests a connection with the
Roman tradition of the wickedness of Britons;
according to Ian Wood, the Chronicle
may have been written by a Briton, Faustus of
Riez, and therefore this might reflect a native
view - parallel to E's and later to Gildas' - of
God's wrath against British sin.
However, if E is speaking about
the plague, this means that he seems to regard it
as punishment in itself. It is a visible
manifestation of social and religious unhealth
that has led the British to rebel against God and
the king both. Gildas does not tie up E's
polemic, which he has embodied in his ch.21, with
the plague; ch.21s description of a
diseased and tottering state of society does not
lead into the next chapters mention of the
plague at all. Rather, ch.22 starts
describing it ex novo a few lines later.
It is clear that Gildas regards the plague not as
the end of a cycle, the cycle of treachery and
legal sophistry described by E, but as the
beginning of another: pestifera... lues
feraliter... populo incumbit, quae in breui
tantam eius multitudinem - remoto mucrone -
sternit, quantam ne possint uiui humare:
"a murderous plague struck the people
ferociously, and in little time struck down such
a huge number - though the sword was far [from
them] - as the survivors could not bury".
Those two words, remoto mucrone, hint at
worse punishment yet: the sword, though at
present far away, was yet to come.
Then a terrible piece of news
reaches the court: the Picts, hammered into the
ground a generation earlier, are arming for a
return engagement, and have called their friends
in Ireland to join the party. In a sentence
whose wording smells of late-classical Rome a
mile away (initur namque consilium quid
optimum quidue saluberrimum ad repellendas tam
ferales et tam crebras... gentium irruptiones
praedasque decerni deberet - the word order
may be Gildas', but such adverbs as quid
optimum quidue saluberrimum taste of official
Roman correspondence), Gildas describes the
summoning of what he regards as the king's
advisers, the consiliarii or council-men.
I don't think we would be far wrong if we saw
this as a sarcastic quotation of a real and
well-known document; indeed, Gildas follows it up
with his own editorial comments, in which the
words hebetudo, idiocy, and insipiens,
ignorant twit, feature prominently.
It was natural for people of
Gildas' time to see plagues as God punishing
wicked ages (though if He did, exactly how many
plagues would our century have deserved?), but
Gildas is clear enough on the sequence of events
for us to draw our own conclusions. The
Picts, savagely mauled a generation before, had
recovered their strength, and the plague meant
that Britain had in its turn suffered severe
depopulation. Its long lines of defence,
that included both shores as well as the Wall,
needed men of fighting age to man them; and the
plague had destroyed them before an enemy had had
time to raise a sword (remoto mucrone).
The decision was taken to summon settlers from
North Germany ("Saxons").
Gildas is best understood as
saying that the superbus tyrannus, at the
suggestion of his consiliarii, decided not
to hire swordsmen who could be sent home once
their term of service was done, but to settle a
permanent population. This strongly
suggests that the native population was
substantially reduced, lending yet more
credibility to Gildas' story of a devastating
plague. Iubente infausto tyranno, at
the order of the evil-starred tyrant, grex...
in orientales partes insulae... terribiles
inflixit ungues quasi pro patria pugnaturus,
the herd dug its terrible claws in the eastern
part of the island, as if it was going to fight
for a fatherland. They were there to stay
(their "claws" were not to be dug out
of the island's soil), to settle on the eastern
shores (when, later, Gildas wants to underline
how far the war had spread, he says that the
tongues of its flame were even licking the
western ocean) and to fight for the country as if
it was their own - to make it "as if"
their patria.
Gildas' carefully chooses his
words to show that the responsibility was
exclusively the usurpers. Although he
mentions a council twice before he brings in the superbus
tyrannus, he hardly describes it as a
sovereign body. It does not even seem
permanent: summoned in an emergency, Gildas
insists that its task was to give advice - and it
gave bad advice. The comparison with the
silly princes of Isaiah 19.11-15, giving bad
advice to Pharaoh, leaves no doubt as to who are
the advisers and who Pharaoh. As later
kings of the island were to find, there is a
world of difference between a council of advisers
and a sovereign senate or parliament, but this
particular British king, says Gildas, definitely
took advice on decisions he made himself. The
Saxons were settled by his and nobody else's
authority, iubente infausto tyranno
(23.4). The council does not iubet
anybody, the tyrannus does.
Why then the emphasis on the
council's activities? Although Gildas
denies it any decisional power, he is at least as
savage about them as about the tyrannus
himself. An answer may be found by looking
at the suspicious stress on the enormity of the
Saxon demands for annona (a general word
for food dues) and epimenia (monthly
contributions; annona is doled out in epimenia).
First reaction is that of course national hatred
would forbid Gildas, as it would forbid anyone
else, to admit that there was anything to be said
for the Saxons. But the whole passage is
notably defensive in tone: the Saxons, it admits,
had multo tempore, for a long time,
received regular payments with which they had
been content, when the trouble began. Gildas,
who had been telling the story in the historic
perfect, suddenly breaks into a dramatic present:
item queruntur non affluenter sibi epimenia
contribui, "likewise they complain that
the monthly payment is not offered in sufficient
abundance". (The word
"likewise", item, is
interesting, as we will see.)
Affluenter, in this
context, is a deliberately misleading adverb.
In Latin it has the connotation of enormous
profligacy and waste, but the context proves that
the Saxons were complaining that they were being
stinted the agreed measure, affluenter
meaning "with proper abundance" rather
than "with excessive abundance". The
Saxons are not setting up a howl for extra
rations, much less for what Gildas implies is the
Roman equivalent of lobsters and champagne; they
are complaining about specific incidents - occasiones
de industria colorantes - in which they were
denied what they felt was their due as fighters.
And we notice that there is no indication that
the Saxons had not fulfilled their part of the
bargain; in fact, from the moment they appear on
Gildas' stage the Picts and Scots disappear. He describes the
Saxon claim that they were magna... discrimina
pro bonis hostibus subituris, there to
undergo great dangers for their good hosts, as a
lie (mentiebantur), but events show that
the Saxons must have seen off the immediate
threat. In fact, if they hadn't, the
British would not have dared try and stint them
the annona.
The main complaint against the
Saxons is that they brought in, uninvited, some
extra drafts: genetrix, comperiens primo
agmini fuisse prosperatum, item mittit satellitum
canumque prolixiorem catastam, "the
mother (that is the mother country, the barbara
leaena), discovering that the first advance
party had done well, likewise sent a more
extravagant heaping-up of satellites and
dogs..." We will not pay for anything
except the first draft, the British were saying.
There is a further elaboration of refusal in the
form satellitum canumque, which implies
that the second draft was of inferior quality,
made of camp-followers, "satellites",
and low-grade "dogs": that the Saxons
had sent over to Britain not the best but the
dregs of their own society.
One can only envy Gildas'
incredible mastery of the Latin vocabulary of
abuse, but I have to say that the rhetorical
fireworks here remind me of those points where
Churchill would jot a pencil note to himself on
the margins of a speech: "weak point -
shout". They are there to cover
poverty of thought. The fraudulent nature
of the whole contention is clear when we realize
that the British seem to have made no complaint
for all the multo tempore in which the
Saxons lived in peace with them, fought their
wars, and died for them. To raise the
question of uninvited later drafts after such a
long residence was clearly a pretext.
The particle item, in this
sentence, not only ties this second draft of
troops to the first, but also looks forwards to
that second item at the end of the
paragraph. Item refers to something
that was done before and is repeated again:
"likewise". So where is the
corresponding item? Gildas, we know,
thinks in paragraphs rather than sentences; his
grammar and vocabulary are of crystalline purity;
he is the last man in the world to leave an
unanswered dangling item. Therefore
the otherwise inexplicable item in item
queruntur non affluenter sibi epimenia contribui
- what does it mean, since the Saxons had not
made such claims before? - can only refer back to
the item about the arrival of extra
numbers, not only of canes, but of satellites,without
permission: item, mittit satellitum canumque
prolixiorem catastam... item, queruntur non
affluenter sibi epimenia contribui... Gildas
is trying to make this tendentious couple of
"likewise" say that the Saxon demands
resulted not from any British obligation, but
from the presence of later drafts to which the
British had never agreed, and which were part of
a pattern of deception and conquest by stealth
that had started from the moment the children of
the leaena barbara had first set foot on
the patria. "These demands - he
is saying - excessive and fraudulent as they
were, were part of a pattern of prevarication and
extortion practised by the Saxons from the
beginning; nothing new had been added to the
balance (such as for instance new British
unwillingness to pay or attempts to cheat the
Saxons); and therefore the Saxons had only
themselves to blame."
This sort of polemic has a certain
kind of dirty fingerprint all over it: it is
typical of the feelings of a selfish moneyed
class that feels that the world demands a living
from it and that the State is hell-bent on making
the recipients of its bounty live in luxury at
its expense. Gildas, or rather the British
landowners whose polemic he repeats, describe the
Saxons in exactly the same terms as modern pub
philosophers speak of welfare mothers. But
it is also typical of the late Empire, when
taxation and payment for mercenaries were two
notorious sore points. If the British state
had decided to hire Saxon mercenaries, it must
also have decided to appropriate the means to pay
them. If the active men of this population
are to be soldiers, then someone else has to feed
them, and feed them well. Todays
armies would call it combat pay - it is not fair
to ask someone to shed their blood for you
without proper reward.
Now I suggest that the annona
was the reason for the summoning of the council.
Annona in such quantity could not be
skimmed off neighbouring villages or squeezed
from smallholders; food in abundant and regular
amounts, to feed a whole population, demands the
support of large managed estates. Surely it
was to agree on this measure, that would have
affected every landowner in the island, that the superbus
tyrannus summoned a council; behind the
"advice" they were supposed to give him
lay the need for taxes or contributions in grain
and other produce. Whatever the powers of
king and council, it would have been suicidal to
proceed with such measures without the taxpayers'
consent.
In a climate of crisis when the
wolf seemed to be at everybody's door, such
contributions will at first have been accepted as
necessary. But even if the government of
Vortigern (so to call him) had suffered from no
internal opposition, this is still the sort of
thing that would eventually have run into trouble
when raiders had been warded off and invaders
sent home or pacified: the owners of the land no
doubt felt that they had better things to do with
their own produce than to give it for free to a
bunch of barbarian swordsmen far away (most of
Britain would never have seen a Saxon up to that
point, settled as they were in a restricted
eastern area). The well-practised British
legal agility of which E complains was therefore
brought into play; reasons were found to cut down
the irksome payments, and suddenly the secondary
drafts of Germanic immigrants became an issue.
From a neighbour's land to the dethronement of an
undesirable king, it was the way of
Romano-British aristocrats to use the law to get
what they wanted.
This, it leaps to the eye, is not
legend. The sound of actual legal quarrels,
the problems of taxation and consent, the poverty
and selfishness of the arguments offered by
Gildas, the obvious evasions, ring with real
politics; we must regard it as a party political
version of genuine events. And bearing in
mind that 120 years (442-561) and a long war or
wars separated Gildas from these debates, there
is no alternative but to accept that he had a
written source. I already postulated a
pre-disaster British source for his ch.21, E, but
the source of this account must be distinct; it
is later in time and different in spirit. E
comes from the last age of pre-Saxon British
prosperity, from the last days of Ambrosius'
father and the first of "Vortigern";
the account of the origin of the Saxon war comes
from after its outset, but close enough to have a
direct if self-serving memory of its political
origins. The former is a prophetic
denunciation of the upper classes of Britain,
coming from a supporter of a fallen king; the
latter is a self-righteous whinge from a rich
man, probably a layman (probably but not
certainly; the Church owned land too). To
the source of ch.21, everything in Britain was
wrong beginning with its elites; to the source of
the Saxon account, the British elites were wholly
in the right and there could be no question of
them quibbling or trying to wiggle out of agreed
obligations on spurious legal grounds, a kind of
behaviour that E placed among the worst British
vices.
It is striking how comprehensively
Gildas' usual jaundiced eye for British failings
fails him. It is not only possible, it is
very easy, to prove from his words that the
Saxons were deceived, used and left to starve, by selfish British
landowners who hoped that once they found that
Britain held no more easy pickings, they would
just go back - and that wasn't the deal. The
ugly echo of modern greed, modern prejudice and
modern selfishness comes back to taunt us from
the doomed British aristocracy of fifteen hundred
years ago, led to destruction by their own
unwillingness to pay what they had agreed.
Why can Gildas not see the
cemeterial rich man's selfishness in their
behaviour, why does he take them at their word
with no qualm or doubt, when he was so ready to
find bad reasons (and not without cause) for
everything else they did? We have already
seen that Gildas, elsewhere, gave a very
different view of proper Christian behaviour to
pagans: his first fragment (typical of him in his
powerful rhetorical cadence, built on an echoing
sequence of -non... non.. non..) goes
through the whole of Genesis and Exodus to prove
that it is not wrong for a Christian to talk,
eat, work, even fight, side by side with pagans
and excommunicates, culminating in the example of
Our Lord eating with publicans (i.e.
extortioners) and whores. When Gildas wrote the
First Fragment, he was actually willing to bend
the evidence in favour of toleration;
Bible-soaked as ever, he made a deliberate
selection, excluding all the passages (and they
are the majority) that disagree with him, from
Phinehas slaughtering the Jews who had married
Gentiles, to Elijah butchering the priests of
Baal, to St.John demanding that nobody should so
much as break bread with an excommunicated
heretic. On the other hand, the mentality
of The ruin of Britain is exterminating,
and Gildas displays a complete lack of sympathy
with any legitimate Saxon claim.
One possible answer is that, in The
ruin, Gildas adopted the views and attitudes
of his listeners, to prompt them to act as he
hoped. We have seen that his purpose was to
stimulate a crusade against the Saxons, to
forestall a dreaded Byzantine intervention, and
to bring the nobility of the island together in
one Christian enterprise. Addressing them,
he can castigate the past away to his heart's
content, but can argue no point that would tell
against the project of a Crusade. Also, one
of his chief addressees is the house of
Ambrosius; and the more he condemns their present
degeneracy, the more he has to play up their
ancestor's greatness. For that matter, he
may not even have known any different. It
is quite clear that what he is repeating here is
the Aurelian version of British history, the
accepted version. The venom with which
Vortigerns policies are described is
personal, not to Gildas, but to what might be
called the anti-Vortigern party. This is
the talk of a faction. It reminds me of
nothing so much as the various victors'
histories, from the "Whig interpretation of
history" to Trotsky's history of the Russian
Revolution - spiteful mixes of special pleading
and the cruel belief that all the suffering of
the past was justified by the victorious group's
conquest of power and all the wondrous things
this would lead to.
It becomes clear that at some
point what was left of the Mild King's supporters
had come together with the "can't pay, won't
pay" party in opposition to annona-raising.
Taxation must have brought many rich people to
oppose Vortigern's policies, and the deposed
king's party will have found the declining
popularity of his enemy an irresistible
attraction. In that madly law-minded
society, the assault took place
on legal grounds. The anti-tax party
attacked the legitimacy of consilium and tyrannus
to show that their decisions did not have the
value of law. Of course, an attack on the
legitimacy of the tyrannus would have been
music to the ears of the deposed king and his
supporters. Only a few years had passed since the legal
authorities of post-Roman Britain had overthrown
him. Given the nature of the governing
classes, the people who took part in the Mild
King's overthrow must have been closely allied,
or indeed the same, as the consiliarii who
approved the Saxon settlement. The Mild
King's fall may have been accompanied by a purge
of his supporters; after which purge victims
would be apt to regard the current governing
institutions as a rump deprived of legal
authority. The Ambrosian party would have
been glad of an excuse to delegitimate them.
The evidence is in Gildas'
vocabulary, which is calculated to delegitimate
both "Vortigern" and his council.
He does not use the right terms for a legally
constituted government. 92.3 - which,
remember, is a direct quotation - gives us a name
for the aristocrats who were paltering and
compromising with religious truth: they are patres
ac domini, fathers and lords. To any
Latin-speaker the word patres in this
sense must suggest the Senate of Rome - patres
conscripti; and every corporate governing
body or appointed parliament in any part of the
empire could and did get called by the name of
the great Roman body. And now we see
the point of Gildas' use of the vague word consiliarii
- his vocabulary is always delicately attuned to
every shade of meaning - as well as his statement
(incredible in the light of the evidence) that
they were only summoned to deal with the Pictish
emergency and that the tyrannus alone
decided. What he or his source are doing is
denying the Senate of "Vortigern" all
legal status, reducing it to a mere group of
hangers-on of the victorious usurper, legally
unfit to reach any decision and not allowed to
vote on any law, not domini, let alone patres
conscripti, but only consiliarii - a
word barely a step above his contemptous
description of the friends of kings as commanipulares,
people who went raiding together. And their boss
wears that opprobrious Gildasian word tyrannus,
never used by the great writer except
degradingly.
The truth is that there was
collective decision-making in post-Roman Britain.
92.3's call to purge the ruling British
institutions of a foedus with hostes
ecclesiae allowed to be patres ac domini
nostri shows that the Church regarded the
presence of heretics among a British body of
fathers and lords as a threat; they
wouldn't be so menacing unless that position gave
them power. E makes it clear that it was
not a king or tyrant alone, but the whole British
upper class, that had gone for compromise,
shocking committed Augustinians with a scandalous
display of relativism; they are all charged with
welcoming Pelagianism and deposing the Mild King.
Every word of E and 92.3, in other words,
suggests collective decision-making, in sharp
contrast with the picture Gildas gives of a superbus
tyrannus taking advice and then giving his
own orders (iubente). And if the
Mild King, with his religious scruples so alien
to the rest of the country, was in fact
Ambrosius' father, then the king who made the foedus
was "Vortigern".
This lends a lot of point to the
two great pictures that frame Gildas' account of
the Saxon war: on one side, the superbus
tyrannus, surrounded by his gilded consiliarii,
like Pharaoh of Egypt with the anger of the Lord
hanging over him; on the other, Ambrosio
Aureliano uiro modesto, the modest hero
Ambrosius Aurelianus, standing alone except for a
few resolute survivors and the simple, nameless ciues.
And this picture admits something that Gildas'
sources would not: whatever might be made of
"Vortigern"'s tyrannical character and
illegitimate power, it is clear that he was in
fact backed and surrounded by the aristocracy of
the province in its corporate character - the patres
ac domini nostri, the "silly princes of
Zoar", the gilded, rich, doomed consiliarii.
By contrast, Ambrosius stands almost alone, with
a crowd of ciues of no name or rank,
clearly there to take orders, not to debate them,
and only a few "survivors" of the
aristocracy. It is Ambrosius, far more than
Vortigern, who suggests an authoritarian ruler.
To the Ambrosian party, the power
of the Senate did not exist in law; it was a mere
outgrowth of the illegal power of the usurper, a
bunch of councilmen (consiliarii) summoned
at will; and, as Gildas says, their decisions are
not their responsibility, but of the
"evil-fated tyrant" (iubente
infausto tyranno). But the evidence
contradicts him. Personal authority seems
associated with Ambrosius, if not with his
unhappy father, and collective decision-making,
with its allied features of compromise and
quarrels over taxation, with Vortigern. And
the bitterness against the consiliarii
does not agree with the notion that they were
helpless courtiers: every word in Gildas implies
their guilt on the same level as the sovereign.
Gildas' account (or rather, the
account of his source) is mendacious in another
way: it was the opposition, not the government,
that provoked the catastrophe. I cannot
emphasize this too much; it is one of the
clearest points in the entire dossier.
The "guilty men" are to be found among
the "can't pay won't pay" party; it was
they who provoked the Saxons to war. But
such people always find ways to lay the blame on
their opponents anyway. Did not the superbus
tyrannus and his consiliarii call in
the Saxons? Well, then!
The rise of the "can't pay
won't pay" party must have been a feature of
the later years of "Vortigern"'s reign;
earlier, all our records suggest that its main
political problem was the Pelagian issue. Nor
were the "can't-pay-won't-pay"
necessarily the same as the other opposition
groups, Catholics and supporters of the
overthrown Mild King; they must have included
quite a few of the same religious indifferentists
who had worked to overthrow the Mild King and
enthusiastically supported the readmission, exceptio,
of the Pelagian "Satan". How
hard-line Augustinians reacted to the call to the
Saxons we cannot know, but, if their hope lay in
the Mild King, then they must have aligned
themselves willy-nilly with the
"can't-pay-won't-pay" people, though
their motives were somewhat less than saintly; at
a time when the Church was threatened by not one
but three formidable heresies, Catholics were not
going to be nice about allies (a ruinous strategy
that commended itself to Catholics in trouble
down the centuries, and always caused worse
disasters than those it tried to avert). There
is little doubt that the house of Ambrosius did
align itself with them, since Gildas
Ambrosian sources embodied their polemic. (One
wonders whether Ambrosius' father made much
headway; too many of the very people who were now
opposing his successor's policies must have been
among those who, not long before, had made up
their minds to force him out at all costs. He
may have achieved no more than to find himself a
prominent and damagingly visible member of the
anti-Saxon party.) Hostility from the
remnants of Ambrosius' father's party; distaste
of hard-line Catholics for the doctrinal laxitude
of his government; hostility to taxation from
many of the rich; all tended to undermine
Vortigern.
What follows is guesswork, but I
think it makes good sense. The Saxons can
hardly have ignored the powerful among their
employers. They no doubt made their own
study of the internal politics of their boni
hospites, especially as they concerned them,
and were surely fascinated spectators of the
growing success of an anti-tax, anti-Saxon party:
they must have been, to say the least, quite
interested to see the deposed king, or at least
his party, trying to take the leadership of the
very people who wanted to starve them out. For
years they had lived in Britain, not as
mercenaries, but as residents raising families,
"fighting for the island as if for a
fatherland", paid to defend the British by
land and water. They knew where their
friends and kinsmen lay, lost at sea, or buried
or burned on battlefields where Pictish and Irish
hosts had been met, turned and slaughtered.
If they thought even more of their role than was
their due; if they would not perhaps consider or
much respect native British troops elsewhere; if
they happened to think, in fact, that the island
had no better defenders, maybe no other
defenders, than themselves - that would have been
quite natural. And now they were told that
they had to leave Britain or starve. Possibly
"Vortigern" himself, in spite of later
legend, was not altogether overzealous in
defending them, now that the plague had gone, the
enemy was subdued, and new drafts of native
Britons were available.
There is nothing in seven
continents more dangerous than to openly try to
cheat an army with its weapons still at hand and
recent fighting experience. The
Roman-educated aristocracy of 430s Britain ought
to have remembered what had happened when the
Empire had tried the very same game with the
Goths. In John Morris' crisp sentences: "The government of
Valens admitted the Visigothic refugees, but
corruption let them keep their arms, and at the
same time assured that they were fed at
outrageous famine prices. Life was
intolerable for a people unprovided with coin,
whose sole marketable commodities were their
children. When the scared Roman general
tried to assassinate their leaders, and bungled
his treachery, the starved and indignant Goths
rebelled, destroying the army and the emperor of
the East at Adrianople in 378." That
had been the beginning of the end of the West -
within living memory. Truly, the stupidity
of the Britons' pub-philosopher selfishness was
unfathomable.
The Saxons took their own
measures. Gildas describes a blitzkrieg, a
sudden onslaught without warning or previous
negotiation; a fact that tells its own story.
Throughout history, lightning campaigns have been
the reaction of smaller groups who saw larger
powers aligning themselves against them and felt
they had to strike first or be destroyed:
Frederick II of Prussia in 1756 and Israel in
1967 are classic examples. The Saxon
blitzkrieg against their former boni hospites
shows clearly enough that they felt they had to
do or die.
The plague must have taken place
after St.Germanus' first visit; Constantius says
nothing of it, and had it preceded or accompanied
Germanus, he could hardly have failed to mention
such a divine sign. It cannot have been
much later either, since time must be allowed for
the plague, the coming of the Saxons, the defeat
of the Picts and possibly the Irish, and the
"long time" that followed before the
Saxons revolted in 441-2. It is even likely
that the sudden death of Palladius in Britain -
according to Irish records - may have been due to
it. Palladius, after all, must have been
fit enough to undertake a long and dangerous
journey, as the Lord's athlete going to wrestle
the enemy down; yet (if we trust the Irish
texts), within a year he was dead.
The call to the Saxons followed
the plague - 432-34 approx., up to ten years
before their rebellion. According to
Nennius ch.66, which, though "certainly
corrupt" (Dumville), preserves pre-Nennian
traditions otherwise lost, they settled in
Britain in the fourth year of Vortigern's reign.
This would give us a chronology somewhat like
this: 426/27, crisis of the Mild King's rule; E
writes his first defence, asserting that no king
should be overthrown non pro ueri examinatione;
427/428, the Mild King's downfall,
"Vortigern"'s coronation; 429,
Germanus' journey; 431, Palladius comes; 431-432,
plague; E writes again, describing Britain as
sick from top to toe; Palladius dies; 432-433,
the Saxons are called to settle in the East of
the island; 441-442, the Saxons, with the choice
between fighting and starving, take up weapons.
The sequence is tight but hardly
impossible: the plague should have been of
extraordinary swiftness and violence - as indeed
Gildas describes it - enough to stampede
"Vortigern" and the British Senate into
calling the "Saxons" to defend the
depleted country; and their settlement must have
been dated to the actual decision of their
calling (although, as we have the misfortune to
see in our own day, ethnic transfers can take
place with extraordinary swiftness, a few weeks
sufficing for whole populations, if there is good
or bad enough cause; just ask the Kosovars and
the wretched East Timorese).
Notes
History
of Britain, 407-597 is copyright © 2002, Fabio
P. Barbieri. Used with permission.
Comments
to: Fabio P.
Barbieri
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