Читать книгу History of the Fylde of Lancashire онлайн

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The Heptarchy, established about 550, and consisting of seven sovereign states, was finally abolished in 830, and Egbert became king over the whole island. The province of Northumbria, more especially the Fylde and tracts of adjoining territory, had at that date been the scene of irregular and intermittent warfare during the previous forty years. Lancashire had suffered cruelly from the visitations of the Northmen, or Danes, who spared neither age, sex, nor condition in their furious sallies. In the years 787, 794, and 800, these pirates invaded the soil, ravaged the country, butchered the inhabitants, and on the last occasion shot Edmund, the king of the West Saxons, to death with arrows, because he refused to renounce the Christian faith and embrace the errors of heathenism. Egbert was no sooner seated on the throne than the Danes re-appeared off the coasts, and there can be little doubt that some of their bands made their way down the western shore of the island, entered the Bay of Morecambe, and, guided by the old Roman road near the mouth of the Wyre, pushed onwards into and through the heart of the Fylde, plundering and laying waste villages, hamlets, and every trace of agriculture in their path. “The name of the Danes’ Pad,” says Mr. Thornber, “given to the Roman agger is and ever will be an everlasting memorial of their ravages and atrocities in this quarter.”[9] In addition it may be stated that many warlike relics of the Danes have been found along the road here indicated, and that the names of the Great and Little Knots in the channel of Wyre, opposite Fleetwood, were of pure Scandinavian derivation, and signified “round heaps,” probably, of stones. These mounds were, during the formation of the harbour entrance, either destroyed or disfigured beyond recognition. Several localities, also, along the sea boundary of the Fylde bear Danish denominations, which will be treated of hereafter. In 869 Lancashire was again visited by a dreadful famine, and many of the people in every part of the county fell victims either to the dearth itself or the fatal disorders following in its train. Those who were fortunate enough to escape the wholesale destruction of the scourge suffered so severely from the merciless massacres of the Danes that at the accession of Alfred the Great, in 871, our Hundred was but sparsely populated. During the reign of that illustrious monarch England was divided into counties, which again were subdivided into Hundreds. Each Hundred was composed of ten Tithings, and each Tithing of ten Freeholders and their families. When this division of the kingdom was effected the south-western portion of the old province of Northumbria was separated from the remainder, and received the name of Lonceshire, from the capital Loncaster, the castle on the Lone, or Lune. Alfred, as we are told by his biographer Asser, did much to improve the condition of his subjects both for peace and war; referring to their illiterate state, on his accession the king himself says:—“When I took the kingdom there were very few on the south side of the river Humber, the most improved portion of England, who could understand their daily prayers in English, or translate a letter from the Latin. I think they were not many beyond the Humber. There were so few that I cannot, indeed, recollect one single instance on the south of the Thames.”[10] After suffering a defeat at Wilton almost at the outset of his career, Alfred surprised and overthrew the Danish camp at Eddington; Guthrum, their leader, and the whole of his followers were taken prisoners, but afterwards liberated and permitted to colonise East Anglia, and subsequently Northumbria, an act of clemency which entailed most disastrous consequences upon the different sections of the latter province. The Fylde now became the legalised abode of numbers of the northern race, between whom and the Saxon settlers perpetual strife was carried on; in addition the restless and covetous spirit of the new colonists constantly prompted them to raids beyond the legitimate limits of their territory, rebellions amongst themselves, and conspiracies against the king; insurrection followed insurrection, and it was not until Athelstan had inflicted a decisive blow upon the Danish forces, and brought the seditious province of Northumbria under his own more immediate dominion, that a short lull of peace was obtained. In the reign of his successor, however, they broke out again, and having been once more reduced to order, agreed to take the name of Christians, abjure their false gods, and live quietly henceforth. These promises, made to appease the anger of Edmund, were only temporarily observed, and their turbulent natures were never tranquilised until Canute, the first Danish king, ascended the throne of England in 1017. The Norse line of monarchs comprised only three, and terminated in 1041. Reverting to Athelstan and the Danes we find that about ten years after the subjugation of the latter in 926, as recorded in the Saxon Chronicle, Anlaf, a noted Danish chieftain, made a vigorous attempt to regain Northumbria. The site of the glorious battle where this ambitious project was overthrown and the army of Anlaf routed and driven to seek refuge in flight from the shore, on which they had but a short time previously landed exulting in a prospect of conquest and plunder, is a matter of dispute, and nothing authentic can be discovered concerning it beyond the fact that the name of the town or district where the forces met was Brunandune or Brunanburgh, and was situated in the province of Northumbria. The former orthography is used in Ethelwerd’s Chronicle:—“A fierce battle was fought against the barbarians at Brunandune, whereof that fight is called great even to the present day; then the barbarian tribes were defeated and domineer no longer; they are driven beyond the ocean.” Burn, in Thornton township, is one of the several rival localities which claim to have witnessed the sanguinary conflict. In the Domesday Survey, Burn was written Brune, and it also comprises a rising ground or Dune, which seem to imply some connection with Brunandune. From an ancient song or poem, bearing the date 937, it is clear that the battle lasted from sunrise to sunset, and that at night-fall Anlaf and the remnant of his followers, being utterly discomfited, escaped from the coast in the manner before described. This circumstance also upholds the pretentions of Burn, as it is situated close to the banks of the Wyre, and at a very short distance both from the Irish Sea and Morecambe Bay, as well as being in the direct line of the road called Danes’ Pad, the track usually taken by the Northmen in former incursions into the Fylde and county. In addition it may be mentioned that tradition affirms that a large quantity of human bones were ploughed up in a field between Burn and Poulton about a century ago. Sharon Turner says:—“It is singular that the position of this famous battle is not yet ascertained. The Saxon song says it was at Brunanburgh; Ethelwerd, a contemporary, names the place Brunandune. These of course are the same place, but where is it?”[11] Having done our best to suggest or rather renew an answer presenting several points worthy of consideration to Mr. Turner’s query, we will, before bidding farewell to the subject, give our readers a translated extract from the old song to which allusion has been made:—