Fouracre P. The New Cambridge Medieval History, Vol. 1: c. 500-c. 700
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England in the seventh century 483
Mercia. His long and stormy career, which included a second appeal to Rome
in 703, ended with his death as bishop of his church of Hexham in 710.
112
Theodore himself died in 690, leaving the English church in a very different
position from that in which he had found it in 669.Hehad expanded the
number of bishops and brought them together in council. He had founded
aremarkable school at his episcopal see, especially learned in eastern, Anti-
ochene theology, and a nursery of bishops whose most notable pupils held
sees in Wessex, Northumbria and among the Hwicce.
113
He had developed the
discipline of the laity through a series of rulings embodied in his penitential.
Above all, he had established a single archbishopric with undisputed authority
over the whole English church, with Gregory the Great as its patron. In so
doing, he had transformed the fortunes of the Roman mission and the see of
Canterbury, whose pre-eminence remained largely unchallenged even after a
metropolitan see was finally established at York in 735.
In Northumbria, the settlement achieved after the angry disputes at Whitby
is best exemplified by the episcopate and subsequent cult of Cuthbert, bishop
of Lindisfarne, 685–687.Anascetic, trained in the Ionan tradition, Cuthbert
conformed to the Roman Easter and after his death was held up by Lindisfarne
and by Bede as a model Hiberno-Gregorian monastic pastor. His splendid
burial deposit, including silk vestments, a gold and garnet pectoral cross, an
ivory comb, a small gospel book and a silver-plated portable reliquary, suggests
that, while not perhaps of Wilfridian magnificence, his was an opulent milieu.
In 698 the translation of his imperishable remains followed ceremonial recently
developed in Gaul and set the seal on the new synthesis.
114
The impact of the conversion
At the beginning of the seventh century the English elite was mostly pagan. We
will probably never know much about the nature of their beliefs, because Bede
has chosen to tell us so little. He does, however, make it clear that by the early
seventh century in Northumbria at least there was a priestly cadre, headed
by a ‘high priest’ (primus pontificium), who was not allowed to carry arms
or ride upon a male horse. By then worship was coming to be focussed upon
sanctuaries, probably square ditched enclosures, which might be equipped with
images and sacrificial altars.
115
While we cannot know how far these features
are evidence of a well-defined hierarchy or a systematic theology, it seems
112
HE iv.13; v.19; Vita Wilfridi.
113
Bischoff and Lapidge (1994); Lapidge (1995); Stevenson (1995).
114
Tw oLives of St Cuthbert, ed. Colgrave; Bonner, Rollason and Stancliffe (1989).
115
HE ii.13;Blair (1995b); North (1997).
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484 alan thacker
likely that seventh-century English paganism was pervasive – tied into social
activities and attitudes – and, in particular, shaped attitudes to the role of the
supernatural in daily life.
We should probably not think of late Anglo-Saxon paganism and Chris-
tianity as two opposed and mutually impermeable systems; attitudes to
religion among the newly emerging elite of the later sixth century may
have been evolving through contact with the church. At least one English
ruler seems to have tried to bring the two faiths within some sort of
loose continuum: notoriously, the powerful East Anglian king Rædwald
(d. 616 × 627) set up a sanctuary containing altars both to his pagan gods
and to Christ.
116
The East Anglian royal house has sometimes been regarded as
a bastion of traditional paganism, expressed in the richly furnished ship burials
beneath the barrows of Sutton Hoo. But there is no need to interpret Sutton
Hooinsuch terms. Undeniably the East Anglian kings’ great funerary mounds
stand in marked contrast to the cement-shrouded tombs of Æthelberht and his
spouse in their burial church in Canterbury; and it may well be that their burial
rites included sacrificial rituals involving horses and even men. Nevertheless, a
magnificent barrow-burial like that in Mound One at Sutton Hoo is likely to
have been as much about secular display as religious belief.
117
In the last resort, the primary impact of the English conversion was upon
the belief systems of an elite. The dynamics are clear. The key figures, as
Gregory himself and those whom he sent patently realised, were the kings,
who in accepting Christianity imitated their barbarian neighbours in adopting
the most potent of all signifiers of Romanitas. Their companions and nobles
generally followed their lead. Powerful kings moreover influenced subordinate
rulers. Æthelberht ’s own conversion undoubtedly owed much to the example
of his powerful neighbours, the Merovingian kings, into whose family he had
married. He in turn brought with him his nephew in Essex. A similar pattern
can be detected among the Northumbrian bretwaldas.Oswald, for example,
exacted baptism with himself as sponsor from the West Saxon Cynegils as the
price of a marriage alliance, just as Peada converted when he married Oswiu’s
daughter.
Christianity had much to offer kings. As Bede observed, their intensified
participation in Romanitas brought with it a new role in the making of law.
118
Æthelberht’s law code opens by expressly noting that it was written down in
the lifetime of his bishop, Augustine.
119
Later codes such as those of Wihtred
and Ine also record the participation of bishops, and the church’s primary
involvement in the process is evident from the prominence with which the laws
116
HE ii.15;Yorke (2003).
117
Cf. Halsall (1995), esp. pp. 61–3.
118
HE ii.5.
119
Laws of the Earliest English Kings,pp.4–17,atp.4.
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England in the seventh century 485
enshrine its rights and privileges.
120
Alongside written law came the charter,
the solemn and grand uncials of which linked it in appearance with the holiest
of the church’s texts, its great Gospel-books. Borrowing formulas from the
diplomata of Gregory the Great, such instruments offered the king a new
flexibility in the disposal of property, of which in the seventh century the
church and more particularly the royal monastery was the main beneficiary.
Although, as Patrick Wormald has argued, they were idiosyncratic documents
with diverse origins, the church, in the person of Augustine or Theodore, had
a primary role in their introduction.
121
Above all, the church offered a vital new means of conferring prestige on
the experimental English kingships. Dynastic saints put kings in touch with
the supernatural. They could make royal descent special and royal residences
a centre of cult. As Janet Nelson has pointed out, a Christian saint differs
from a sacral person in that the saint is dead and has acquired recognition
through a process of external recognition quite unlike the inherent quality of
sacrality.
122
Undeniably, however, the saint-king posthumously acquired some
sacral characteristics.
123
If churchmen as a result remained very cautious in
their treatment and recognition of such figures, they also found them useful.
Concerned as they were with what kings might offer the church, they could
employ the royal saint, and especially the holy king, as a role model.
124
From the
works of Bede, for example, we can distil a notion of an exemplary king, whose
personal virtues ‘corresponded to the requirements of the church’ – who could
offer ‘protection, endowment, largesse, the prosecution of Christian warfare,
and, above all, obedience to its [the church’s] teaching’.
125
That conversion made a difference to kings and their followers is clear. What
is much less clear is how far down the social scale its impact was felt. Bede is
explicit that in Northumbria at least there were mass conversions. He expressly
states that many of the common people (plebs perplurima)followed the lead
of King Edwin.
126
The most obvious ways in which the new religion could
have made an impression would have been through relocated cult sites and a
revised cultic calendar. Here, however, there may well have been continuities.
The progenitor of the Roman mission, Pope Gregory himself, envisaged his
envoys taking over pagan cult sites and structures and dedicating them to
Christian worship. Although Gregory probably knew little of the situation in
England around 600, there is some evidence that in late pagan Kent there
existed links between royal estate centres and cult sites similar to those which
120
Laws of the Earliest English Kings,pp.24, 36.
121
Wormald (1984).
122
Nelson (1986), pp. 69–74.
123
Thacker (1995), pp. 98–104;Cubitt (2000).
124
Nelson (1986), pp. 69–74.Cf. Wallace-Hadrill (1971), pp. 47–97.
125
Wallace-Hadrill (1971), p. 86.
126
HE ii.14.
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486 alan thacker
can be discerned after the conversion.
127
If the pattern remained unchanged, so
perhaps did the sites themselves. Ithas recently been suggested that the medieval
parish church of Goodmanham stands on the site of Edwin’s shrine.
128
Other
continuities are also suggested by the English name for the greatest of Christian
feasts, that of the Saviour’s resurrection. According to Bede, in his great work
on time, De Temporum Ratione, the word Easter derives from the Anglian
goddess Eostre, traditionally worshipped in April, the paschal month.
129
One major discontinuity has been detected, which has been thought to stem
from the influence of Christianity. The change in burial custom reflected in the
disappearance of grave-goods has been regarded as an index of the progress of
the church.
130
That, however, is almost certainly too simple a model. There is
nothing specifically Christian or pagan about burial goods: a holy bishop saint
could as easily be buried with the emblems of his vocation as a pagan warrior
noble. It was to be a long while before the church insisted on distinctive sites
or rituals for the burial of the dead.
131
We may distinguish between the precisely locatable moment when
Christianity was officially accepted by a ruling elite and the much longer
and less clearly defined process of Christianisation. There has been much
debate about the part played in this by the Christian culture of those British
who survived in the early English kingdoms (if such there were).
132
Here the
prejudices of Bede are particularly significant. His famed dislike of the British
has led to the suspicion that he wrote them out of his history. While Bede
accused the British of failing in their duty to convert the pagan English, he
clearly assumed that there had been external contact with the Christian inhab-
itants of British kingdoms. That is certainly suggested, for example, by his
treatment of Augustine’s meeting with the British church in the conference at
Augustine’s Oak held on the borders of the kingdoms of the West Saxons and
the Hwicce.
133
Bede, however, has nothing to say of the survival of Christianity among
those former Romano-Britons who became subject to the English elite. There
are a few indications that this may have been more important than his silence
suggests. Inparticular, in the south-east the burial place of the British protomar-
tyr, Alban, seems to have remained an active cult site. In Kent, too, Augustine
seems also to have encountered another British martyr, Sixtus, whose cult he
127
Behr (2000).
128
Blair (1995b).
129
North (1997), pp. 178, 227–8;Bede, De Tempore Ratione c.15.
130
E.g. Campbell (1982), pp. 48–9, 51.
131
Bullough (1983). On the gradual process of Christianisation, see also Wood, chapter 26 below.
132
SeeRollason (1989), pp. 3–20;Sims-Williams (1990), esp. pp. 54–85;Stancliffe (1997), and Stancliffe,
chapter 16 above.
133
HE ii.2.
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England in the seventh century 487
effectively suppressed by replacing it with that of his namesake, the papal mar-
tyr of 258.
134
The survival of such cults, however, does not prove institutional
survival in any meaningful sense. Even the cults themselves could have been
episodic.
There are hints of contact elsewhere. In Wessex, which in the west had an
exceptionally large and well-organised British population, the English bishop
Wini consecrated Chad to the see of Northumbria with the assistance of two
British bishops in 664.
135
The Britishprobably also had a hand in the conversion
of the English in the western kingdoms of the Hwicce and the Magonsæte,
136
while in Mercia itself a case has been made for identifying the episcopal see
of Lichfield as a British ecclesiastical site.
137
On the other hand, there is little
indication of contact with British Christians in East Anglia and the east Mid-
lands, and if anything, the evidence, such as it is, suggests mutual hostility.
138
In the north, in Bede’s own homeland of Northumbria, the evidence is equally
dubious. There is evidence that, at the height of his power as bishop, Wil-
frid of York appropriated vacant British ecclesiastical sites, perhaps west of the
Pennines.
139
Bede tells of a Briton who benefited from the curative powers of
the site (perhaps at Oswestry in Shropshire) where Oswald, the Northumbrian
rex christianissimus, met his death in battle against the pagan Penda.
140
But on
the whole, if he and the author of Wilfrid’s biography are to be believed, the
British made little contribution to the development of Christianity in English
Northumbria.
Nature and organisation of early English Christianity
In seventh-century England dioceses were large and there were few bishops.
English bishops, while undoubtedly of high social status, and in a few cases
(such as that of Bishop Wilfrid) heavily involved in politics, were less pow-
erful than their Frankish or Italian counterparts. Probably too there were few
priests and deacons. Such as there were, were mostly concentrated in the lav-
ishly endowed religious communities established on royal estates, already men-
tioned. There has been much debate on the nature of these communities. Were
they strict monasteries, essentially inward looking, concerned with their own
discipline and with the spiritual and moral welfare both in life and in death
of the royal and aristocratic patrons? Or were they constituent members of an
ordered network of pastorally active centres, each with its own large ‘parish’
(parochia), established at or near royal estate centres to minister to every-
one on those estates? The truth probably lies somewhere between these two
134
Sharpe (2002), pp. 124–5;Brooks (1984), p. 20.
135
Bede, HE iii.28;Yorke (1995), pp. 43–51, 66–72.
136
Sims-Williams (1990), pp. 55–86.
137
Gould (1973).
138
E.g. Felix, Vita Guthlaci.
139
Vita Wilfridi c.17.
140
Bede, HE iii.10.
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488 alan thacker
positions. It seems clear that the religion of a seventh-century English king
was not purely a private affair but mattered to his followers; that explains the
Roman missionaries’ concentration on kings, and the mass conversions such as
those effected by Paulinus under King Edwin. On the other hand, contempo-
raries appear to have made some distinction between clergy who functioned in
churches and monks based in monasteries. Moreover, the distribution of these
early communities is such that their establishment cannot have been entirely
systematic and may well reflect differences in function. Whether, in this early
phase, all communities, whether of clerici or monachi, had pastoral functions
must remain a moot point. It seems certain, however, that many did, or at least
were intended to have them.
141
The cult of the saints, as we have already seen, played an important role in
making Christianity attractive to kings. It also offered an important means by
which it could reach the common people; the tombs and relics of saints were
regarded as the principal means by which men could engage with supernatural
power and manipulate it for their benefit. When the missionaries arrived,
the English had no saints of their own and the relics which they brought
(almost certainly from Rome) had immense prestige.
142
By the mid-seventh
century, however, influenced by their Merovingian neighbours, the English
were establishing their own saints in their see churches and most notably in
their royal monasteries. A process had been initiated which was to gather
momentum in the eighth century and see most minster churches endowed
with their own local saint.
143
A key institution in these developments is the family monastery, the resting
place of the dynastic saint, and repository of the traditions and treasures of
a specific royal lineage. Such institutions were generally presided over by a
royal abbess. They have been misleadingly called ‘double monasteries’, but
essentially they were royal nunneries served by communities of male chaplains.
The great Northumbrian monastery of Whitby and the Kentish foundations
of Sheppey and Minster in Thanet are leading seventh-century examples. Like
the royal nunneries of Ottonian Germany, they formed a stable focus for
the accretion of family lands and wealth in an unstable world in which male
members of the kin were frequently killed, taking with them the fragile personal
loyalties on which their power depended.
144
These female communities may
have developed out of an older pre-Christian pattern. As Charlotte Behr has
convincingly suggested, the opulent royal jewellery, enriched with images of
the Woden cult, apparently worn predominantly by women in late pagan Kent,
141
Blair and Sharpe (1992), esp. the contributions of Blair, Cubitt, Foot and Thacker; Cambridge and
Rollason (1995); Blair (1995a).
142
Thacker (2000).
143
Blair (2002).
144
Thacker (1992), pp. 142–5;Foot (2000), pp. 35–61.
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England in the seventh century 489
suggests that high-status women already had a significant involvement in the
transmission of their families’ religious and political role.
145
economic and social organisation
Territorial organisation
Seventh-century England was overwhelmingly rural. In general, the principal
settlements were estate centres where there was a royal hall or an important
church. Landholding, it is currently thought, was organised through large
units termed ‘multiple estates’.
146
Such units enabled a minority to control and
exploit the people and resources of a wide and, to a degree, dispersed territory.
The multiple estate was composed of ‘hierarchies of settlements’. Its essential
features comprised a central place, where the lord had his hall and probably
his principal church, associated with which was ‘inland’ settled by dependent
tenants and, almost certainly, slaves. Beyond lay groupings of outer settlements
bound to supply their lord with rent, food renders and a variety of services,
including perhaps various labour services to assist the lord in exploiting the
land directly in his hands. In some instances at least such units may have been,
as Jones believed, simply the early shire or small provinces in another guise.
Recently, however, Rosamond Faith has argued that the estate developed from
the early shire as ‘rule and control over people gradually evolved into ownership
of land’.
147
Within these estates lay many settlements. ‘A kin-based group living in
a nucleated settlement surrounded by its own land has long been taken as
a primary type of northern European settlement’,
148
and it has often been
assumed that it was widespread in England. Much about the early period,
however, remains unresolved. Although in some places we may detect what
have been termed stable ‘pre-village nuclei’, perhaps in origin early farmsteads
supporting a single family, in others settlements seem to have moved, although
the estate boundaries within which they were situated remain stable.
149
The
physical nature of such settlements is very difficult to establish. They were
no doubt, however, comprised of groups of wooden structures, presumably
farmhouses and associated outbuildings.
Social organisation
The laws are our best source for the social structure of the early English king-
doms. The classic view of early English society, drawn from a reading of those
145
Behr (2000).
146
The classic statement is Jones (1976), pp. 15–40.For recent discussion see Faith (1997), pp. 11–14.
147
Faith (1997), p. 11.
148
Faith (1997), p. 129.
149
Taylor (1984); Hamerow (2002), esp. pp. 93–9, 120–4.
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490 alan thacker
laws, has been that its bedrock was the thriving free peasant, the ceorl, who
worked land sufficient to support his household and some dependants and
owed only modest services to his lord, if he had one. His primary support
system was his kindred, who were entitled to compensation for offences against
his person and his household, and who might enforce such compensation, if
all else failed, by the feud. But, although they take the freeborn man as the
basic element within society, the laws also assume a high degree of social dif-
ferentiation and allude to complex hierarchies of rank. The great variation in
wergilds, the compensation due to a family for the killing of one of its members,
suggests that there were very considerable inequalities in early English society.
That picture is confirmed by the existence of extremely rich and well-furnished
burials in the earlier seventh century. It is also clear that for many the bonds of
kin did not provide sufficient sustenance and protection. For that, most men
depended upon a lord. The existence of lords (hlafordas, dryhten)istaken for
granted in the early laws and the effects of lordship are all-pervasive. The laws
of Wihtred, for example, contain clauses which enforce penalties on the servile
(esnas) for offences against their lords or provide for lords clearing those who
serve them.
150
Those of Ine show that freemen and even noble (gesithcund)
men could have lords.
151
They also make provision as a matter of course for the
rights of lords and not only are full of the penalties payable for offences against
them, but make explicit their legal responsibilities for the doings of their slaves
(theowas)orservants (geneatas).
152
That the nobles formed a class is evident from references in the early laws to
the eorlcund or gesithcund – those born into the noble rank of eorl or royal com-
panion. In the laws, the killing of such men and peace within their households
were protected by especially high penalties, which might be double those for
the non-noble free man. The king drew his companions and councillors, his
ealdormen and bishops, and his warriors from the ranks of the noble. Status
clearly mattered and was evident in behaviour and speech. When the cap-
tive Imma claimed to be a poor peasant, his appearance, bearing and speech
betrayed that he was not a peasant but de nobilibus.His fate was that appropri-
ate to the humble: he was sold to a Frisian slave merchant in London. Similarly
he owed the fact that he was eventually spared to his noble connections, for
he was ransomed by King Hlothere, nephew of his former mistress, Queen
Æthelthryth.
153
This noble class clearly owned and could grant land. The laws of Ine envisage
a gesithcund man who might hold an estate assessed at as much as twenty or
as little as three hides and head a household which might include a reeve, a
150
E.g. Laws of Wihtred 9–10, 23–4.
151
E.g. Laws of Ine 50, 70.
152
E.g. Laws of Ine 3.1–2, 22.
153
HE iv.22.
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England in the seventh century 491
smith and a nurse for his children. They also envisage him moving willingly
from this land or being evicted. Nobles, it appears, could have tenants owing
both service and rent and probably holding on fixed leases. They themselves,
it has been suggested, may also have taken fixed period tenancies.
154
There
has been much debate over whether or not such land was held by revocable
royal grant or inalienable family right. Ine’s laws suggest that some estates
at least were held on a temporary basis. But it seems likely that there was
also inalienable family land. The way in which such land was passed on is
unknown. The analogy of kingship would suggest that there may have been
some form of shared inheritance. This could easily lead to the fragmentation of
inheritance. The ‘booking’ of land to the church by charter offered a means
of circumventing this, and it led in the first instance to the establishment
of the family monasteries of which Bede so disapproved. It was only later,
after 700, that the secular application of bookland made such monasteries
unnecessary.
155
Below the noble in rank lay the thriving free ceorl, traditionally regarded
as the mainstay of early English society. His status is quite difficult to define.
‘Peasant’ carries the wrong connotations; in many ways his property and his
privileges before the law placed him closer to the noble than the poor and
economically dependent tenants and labourers. The ceorl, assigned by Ine a
wergild of 200 shillings (one-sixth of that of the landed royal companion), held
sufficient land to support a single household, himself, his family, his servants,
unfree tenants and slaves. This is the hide, the English unit of assessment (not
a measurement of acreage), which Bede termed the familia, and it was crucial
to the status of the ceorl, his qualification for the rights and obligations of
the free.
156
The ceorl’s ‘enclosed farmsteads and personal property rights’,
157
protected by the laws, comprised the one-hide family farms which Rosamond
Faith has traced in many parts of England. Such holdings were probably her-
itable and in some way partible, in some instances the land being physically
divided while in others it was farmed jointly.
158
Below the ceorl lay a variety of smallholders, living on the margin with
insufficient land to support themselves and usually owing heavy dues to their
lord. They were probably very numerous in seventh-century England. Three
classes of semi-free laets occur in the laws of Æthelberht, while in those of Ine
the less free include the gafolgelda, who held land from a lord in return for
rent, and the gebur, who received land and stock from his lord in return for
agricultural and other services.
159
154
Laws of Ine 44.1, 51, 63–8; Charles-Edwards (1976).
155
Faith (1997); Brooks (1971).
156
E.g. HE i.25; ii.9; iii.4, 24; iv.13; 19; Charles-Edwards (1972).
157
Faith (1997), p. 116.
158
Faith (1997), pp. 126–40.
159
Laws of Æthelberht 26; Laws of Ine 6.3; Chadwick (1905).
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492 alan thacker
At the very bottom of the social order lay the slave. The famous story of
Pope Gregory the Great’s encounter with the Anglian slave boys in the market
at Rome is one among several which show that in the late sixth and seventh
century England was known, indeed probably well known, as a source of
slaves.
160
Slaves could be obtained in a variety of ways. Most obviously, perhaps,
they were taken in warfare or carried off in raids, as Bede’s account of the fate
of Imma makes plain. But slaves could also be created through judicial process,
as a penalty for severe or uncompounded crimes, and they could even be the
result of voluntary action. And, of course, numbers were increased through
the reproduction of those who were already slaves.
161
The laws of Ine treat
penal enslavement for both his English and his British subjects as a matter of
course; they even envisage whole families being enslaved.
162
For many offences,
they impose very high fines payable to the king for which the alternative was
presumably slavery.
163
It would seem then that enslavement was a common
event in seventh-century England. That slaves were numerous is confirmed by
the frequency with which the sources refer to their existence. Some indication
of this is provided by Bede’s account of Wilfrid in the 680sfreeing 250 slaves
on the eighty-seven hide estate granted him by King Æthelwealh of Sussex.
164
Ine’s laws also include a further category absent from the other early
codes: the Welsh (Wealas). They suffered legal discrimination: the penal-
ties for offending against them were generally half those for their English
counterparts.
165
Nevertheless, they comprised a particularly complex group-
ing. Provision is made for the landless, for men holding from a half to five
hides of land, for the Welsh gafolgelda, and for Welsh horsemen in the king’s
service.
166
To wns and trade
There were very few towns in seventh-century England. One or two Roman
towns, such as Canterbury and perhaps York, had remained to some degree
inhabited centres of power, or perhaps been revived at an early period. London
still remained of sufficient importance for the Roman missionaries to establish
an episcopal see there in 604 and to be the home of a mint by the 630s.
By the late seventh century a number of maritime trading centres, known to
historians as wics or ‘emporia’, had emerged in the south-east, most notably
at Southampton (Hamwih), Ipswich and Aldwich (Lundenwic), outside the
160
Earliest Life of Gregory the Great cc.9–10; HE ii.1.
161
Cf. McCormick (2002), p. 744.
162
E.g. Laws of Ine 3.1–2, 24, 48, 54.2.
163
E.g. Laws of Ine 3.2.
164
HE iv.13;Pelteret (1995), p. 137.
165
Laws of Ine 23.3, etc.
166
Laws of Ine 23.3, 24.2, 32–3.