PUNCH’S BOOK OF BRITISH COSTUMES.

CHAPTER IV. – THE ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD (Continued).

Proceeding with the military costume of the Saxons, and having shown in our last chapter what they wore to shield their heads, we may now describe the weapons which were used to break them. Of these, one of the most striking was the double-edged long broad-sword, an arm which was generally wielded with both hands, and which, from the great muscular exertion it required, gave rise to the expression of “More power to your elbow!” It was with this weapon, we read, that at the Battle of Caerbardon, King Arthur killed above four hundred men with his own hand; but we doubt if any arm would have sufficed for such a feat, and though perhaps King Arthur may have said he drew his long bow which he really drew there.*

Anglo-Saxon warrior. From the best authorities. Being extremely rude in the original, the figure has been put into correct drawing.

Another formidable weapon which was wielded by the Saxons was an axe with a long handle, which they called a bill. This bill was somewhat like a lawyer’s in its length, and was thereby well adapted to make short work of an enemy. Bob Wace, the Norman poet, says-

“My contrymen onne Wastygnge’s Wyl,
Were sorelge cutte up bye ge Byl:”

- though Bill, the Conqueror, he adds, got the better of his name-sake. Although the weapon was unwieldy, the Saxons were expert in wielding in; and whether through their superior muscular development, or whether they had less Opposition to contend with, there is no doubt they succeeded in carrying their bills far more easily than Ministers nowadays do theirs.

For the still further comfort and enjoyment of their enemies, the Saxons armed themselves with daggers, javelins and spears; of which latter some were barbed and others broad and leaf-shaped. Of the barbed ones Asser saith, that their use was “trulye barb-arous;” but the others may have possibly been used with some politeness. We can imagine civil Saxons saying, “By your leaf!” when they parried the home-thrust of the spear of an assailant.

Although, as every schoolboy knows, the Saxons owed their name to the Scythic tribe, Sacassani, called otherwise Saxones, stupid people have persisted in deriving it from Seax, a word meaning a curved dagger, which tradition says they wore. To support this foolish notion, these ninnies turn to Nennius, or as we rather should call him, Ninnius; and quote from him a speech, which he reports to have been made by the chairman at a certain public dinner at Stonehenge, which there is reason to believe was an apocryphal repast. Ninnius says this dinner was turned into a tea-flight by the chairman, Mr. Hengist, jumping on the table, and shouting “Take your Seaxes!” as a signal to the Saxons; who, having hid those weapons in the pockets of their braccæ, drew them forth forthwith, and bagged about three hundred of their Ancient British guests. Of course, if this story were proved true, it might be cited as a proof that the Saxons used the seax; but, as the proof wants proving, we don’t believe they did, for any donkey knows better than to pin his faith upon the tale of Nenniass.

Another name for the Seax was, we learn, the Sica; and the Venerable Bede has told another story of it, which, for aught we know, may be as mythical as that which has been told. According to the Venerable, King Edwin, of Northumbria, was attacked by an assassin sent by Cwichelm (pronounced Switch’em) who had been made, or else had made himself, the King of Wessex. The assassin gained an audience on pretence of having a message to deliver to King Edwin, and when that monarch graciously asked what he had to say, the ruffian made a poke at him with a poisoned sica, exclaiming with a bad pun as he did so. “I’ll mak’ sicca!”** An attendant “thegn” named Lilla, secing the king’s danger, would have used his shield to save him; but unluckily his shield had gone that morning to be mended, and all Lilla could do was to fling himself between his monarch and the murderer, and nobly throw away his life to save that of his king. Persons who sing songs may perhaps have heard it stated that “Lilla’s a lady,” but in the Anglo-Saxon time Lilla was a man; and whatever were the rank or station of a “thegn,” this story goes to prove that Lilla was a noble man.

FROM A VERY CURIOUS SAXON MS. IN THE POSSESSION OF MR. PUNCH.

We come now to the costume of the evil Anglo-Saxons, having done with the uncivil ones, called otherwise the military. And here the reader will no doubt be somewhat startled when we tell him, that having carefully got up some mountains of MSS., and waded through whole oceans of books upon the subject, we are driven to conclude that for nearly four whole centuries but little change, or none, was noticed in the fashions! A fact so extraordinary of course needs the strongest proof, but there is evidence collateral, besides direct, to cite for it. According to Monfaucon, the Franks kept to one fashion during just as long a period, and springing like the Saxons from an oriental source, they too showed an oriental liking for old raiment. For the sake though of the cleanly reputation of our ancestors, we trust they did not further prove their oriental origin by adopting in their persons the practice of the Persians. We are told, these Eastern people not merely handed down their children, but they left their wardrobes as heirlooms to them also; so that sons not only stood in their fathers’ shoes, but wore the gaiters of their grandfathers, and their great-great-grandfathers’ great coats. Babies, when they grew big enough, put on their parents’ pinafores; and the identical same garments descended to descendants, and were handed down as long as they would hang together. It is therefore not unlikely that the raiment of a Persian, in its ultimate threadbariness, bore somewhat of resemblance to the garment of the Irishman, which was not made of cloth, sure, but of holes just stitched together.

But, however long deferred, changes, like Reform Bills, must be made at last; and accordingly, we find, the Saxons when they altered their religion, changed their raiment, and when they conformed to Christian doctrines they put on Christian dress.

One of the chief novelties in the dress worn by civilians from the Eighth to the Tenth century was, that for the first time then our ancestors wore shirts. We learn from Edingartus that they were made of linen; but whether they were starched or not be quite omits to tell us, nor does he say if they were mostly worn with buttons or with studs. Conjecturing the former, we would ask the feeling reader to drop the tear of pity to the memory of him, who was the first to feel the agony of finding that his dress shirt had been sent home with a button off! – a discovery which somehow is quite certain to be made at a time when one is dressing to dine with punctual people, who regard one as a murderer of one comes two minutes late.

Over this was worn a tunic, made of woollen stuff or linen, according to the season, and open at the neck so as to put on like the shirt. It descended, as that Ass-er tells us, “kneearly toe yo knee:” and was confined by a belt or girdle round the waist. We find its Saxon name was roc; so if Sindbad was a Saxon, he might have fitly worn this garment when he visited the roc’s nest. Its chief peculiarity was however in the sleeve, which was made quite long enough to cover up the hand, and was worn in rolls or wrinkles from the elbow to the wrist. The use of having sleeves so long perhaps may be conjectured, on the ground that very possibly they served by way of gloves, of which there is no mention so early in our history; and in this respect their wrinkles might put our daughters up to one, and teach them how to keep their hands warm, without dipping them so deeply as they now do in our pockets, where they look to find the wherewithal to fit them weekly with new kids.

FROM THE SAME MS.

A short cloak called a mentil was worn over the tunic, and fastened on the breast or on the shoulder with a brooch. This mentil, or mantle as we now-a-days should call it, could be thrown off or assumed by merely slipping the head through: as is brought to light quite plainly by an old illumination, in which a Saxon gent is pictured fighting with a lion. A mantle is here seen lying by the lion, much the same as Mr. Pyarmus’s in the well-known tragic farce; and as the mantle is left fastened at the throat, one infers that it was taken off without the gent’s undoing it. Judges say this picture is in fact a Scripture piece, and that the Saxon gent we speak of is intended for no less a person than King David. Whether this be really so, we, who are no judge, are not called on to determine, and we shall therefore show our judgment by not trying to decide.

King David.

* The sword which is here mentioned may perhaps have been the one which, the poets say, King Arthur christened his “Excalibar:” and with such a name as this, there really is no saying what a blade might not accomplish. We have, however, looked to the latest of authorities, and as the Idylls of the King contain no mention of the feat, we incline to think the tale has not a leg to stand upon.

** The Venerable Bede omits to mention this remark, which the reader of Scotch history may doubtless recollect is therein said to have been used at a somewhat later period. But of course this is no proof that the words were not made use of at the time of which we write, and, for aught we know, the Scotchman may have been a plagiarist.

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