Download PDF | Sally Crawford - Childhood in Anglo-Saxon England-The History Press (2024).
317 Pages
Introduction
The study of the history of childhood has, in recent decades, moved forward in leaps and bounds, so that we now have detailed and intensive study of the Roman family, and the family in medieval Europe.’ One area that has been overlooked, however, is childhood in Anglo-Saxon England. Never has the term ‘Dark Ages’ been more relevant than to the study of the early medieval child. Philippe Ariés, the founder of the study of the history of childhood, reflected in 1960 that ‘in medieval society the idea of childhood did not exist’.” Recent work by childhood historians has revised this assertion and has updated many of the suggestions about attitudes towards children in pre-modern history, but while our understanding of the child in past times in general has developed with the discipline, the Anglo-Saxon child remains caught up in outdated prejudices and ignorant speculations.
In the nineteenth century, the Victorian scholar John Thrupp painted a grim picture of Anglo-Saxon childhood: ‘At first, the child could be exposed as soon as born: when reared, he could be sold into slavery: he was liable to be punished for his father’s crimes, and to be sold in payment of his debt. At the time of the Norman conquest all these barbarous liabilities had ceased: and although the child was still regarded as occupying a position of extreme subjection or dependence, he had ceased to be a chattel ora slave.” A century later, Anita Schorsch demonstrated that no change in the perception of childhood had touched the medieval period: ‘Medieval communities dealt with their children as they dealt with their animals ... Both shared the floor, the worms, the dirt, and every manner of disease that being a dog or a child in this period invited and implied. In perhaps one way alone children were uniquely different from the animals with whom they wallowed: children were treated as if they were expendable.
In 1983, Neil Postman felt able to describe the Dark Ages as a time when ‘childhood disappears’.’ Recent work has done much to rectify the image of children and childcare from the eleventh century onwards, but the early Anglo-Saxon period still appears to be difficult territory for childhood historians.’ Overviews of the history of childhood persistently rush from the late Roman period to the eleventh century with only an embarrassed glance at pre-Conquest England. John Boswell, in his magisterial survey of the abandonment of children in western Europe from late antiquity to the Renaissance, offered twenty-nine pages on ‘western Europe in the Early Middle Ages’ of which only three or four paragraphs are about AngloSaxon England, while Charles Somerville, in The Rise and Fall of Childhood devoted only a handful of pages to European childhood from AD 500 to 1000, explaining that: ‘the period between the fall of Rome and the year 1000 is the most obscure in all of western history. We can say little about the lives of children, aside from obvious inferences from the authoritarian family pattern common at that time.’’
In practice, the evidence for the Anglo-Saxon period, while not abundant, is sufficiently informative for me to feel able to devote a whole book to the subject of Anglo-Saxon childhood. The aim of this book is to redress the balance in childhood studies, and to present, as far as is possible given the existing evidence, a picture of childhood and family in the AngloSaxon period. This period covers the arrival of the Anglo-Saxons in England in the fifth century to the Norman Conquest in the eleventh century. The evidence for the child from the Anglo-Saxon period is presented through a variety of forms of discourse, both archaeological and documentary, but these varying forms do not complement each other and cannot present a holistic view of the child — rather, we can snatch at presentations and representations of a set of social personae, or aspects of different childhoods, associated with children through the period.
The evidence for the earlier period until the arrival of Christianity is drawn largely from archaeological sources, in the form of excavated cemeteries and settlements, but later documentary sources also offer insights into preChristian Anglo-Saxon society. From the seventh century onwards Anglo-Saxon society is more clearly recorded in documentary sources such as lawcodes, wills, charters, poetry and the accounts of the lives of the saints, but the archaeological evidence, particularly from the cemeteries, also has a part to play in building a picture of later Anglo-Saxon childhood.
The beginning of the Anglo-Saxon period in England is usually placed somewhere in the fifth century, when the Romano-British culture, with its villas, towns and roads, faded into archaeological obscurity, and a new group, migrating from the coasts of what are now Holland, Germany and Scandinavia, began to make its presence felt in eastern England. The culture of these Germanic settlers, with their distinctive artefacts, cemeteries and settlements, spread rapidly westwards, and soon dominated lowland Britain. The settlers brought a new language, and a way of life that was rural, familial and pagan. The archaeological evidence indicates that the earliest Anglo-Saxons lived in relatively small, dispersed hamlets or farmsteads, with no great constraints on land use. Fences are rarely visible on these sites, and when their timber-built halls began to deteriorate, they were simply abandoned, and new ones were built elsewhere. Little is known about the religion of these people, but their burial ritual included grave goods, and the rich variety of artefacts recovered from their graves by archaeologists may give some insight into the social structures of these communities.
The kin group was at the heart of early Anglo-Saxon society, and was responsible for the safety, protection and good conduct of its members. To be without family or kin was a desperate plight, as Old English poems such as The Wanderer and The Seafarer testify.
At the end of the pagan period, there were significant political, cultural and economic upheavals in Anglo-Saxon England. Christianity was introduced to Anglo-Saxon society by the late sixth century, and with it, Mediterranean or Roman ideas on age thresholds and appropriate treatment of juveniles almost certainly had an impact on the old Germanic social structures. With Christianity came formal schooling. Education, a great factor in extending the period of perceived childhood, was apparently introduced widely and may not have been confined only to the small upper-class section of society. A general move from rural to urban life is identifiable towards the end of this period, putting different strains and influences on family structure and attitudes towards offspring. Old family groups and kinship ties may have been weakened, as the fragmented political units of early Anglo-Saxon society, probably originally based around kinship groups, were gradually merged, and Anglo-Saxons gained wider, supra-familial, regional and even national identities. Where once the family was looked to for fulfilment of responsibilities and obligations, now responsibility devolved from the kin to the Church and ‘state’, to whom loyalty was now owed and from whom care was expected. These factors had a reconstructable effect on attitudes towards children. Later written sources, immediately post-dating Christianity, nonetheless have something to say about the earlier society the Church tried to reconstruct, both in terms of allowable marriage bonds and in terms of new extensions to the family in the form of god-parents.
The study of earlier Anglo-Saxon children and their families is valuable not only in its own right as a fascinating area of research, but also for its wider implications. A great deal of myth and misunderstanding surrounds research into family life in past societies, in particular the question of social attitudes towards children. Any endeavour to clarify our understanding of even one society from the past may help all such studies of childhood. More specifically, the scrutiny of Anglo-Saxon childhood should complement recent interest in the reconstruction of society at this time. It is difficult to investigate thoroughly any facet of adult life in the Anglo-Saxon world when the researcher does not know the parameters within which she or he is working: an analysis of adult burial ritual, for instance, is going to be severely hampered if the age at which the ritual distinguishes adults from juveniles is unknown.
In the documentary sources, we can see that Christianity, with its ideals of human society drawn from a Mediterranean model, was sometimes at odds with the traditional Germanic society. Much of the literature from the Christian period deals with ‘correct’ socialisation, but to what extent did the strictures of the Church — about the rearing of children, the proper formation of family relationships, the education of children and the socialisation of children — have an impact on actual Anglo-Saxon practice? One of the aims of this book will be to try to reconstruct, as far as possible, the ‘shape’ of the Anglo-Saxon family and the place of the child within the family, including any experience of fosterage or of extended families.
An overall synthesis of the archaeological evidence and the comparative evidence of anthropological and literary sources may provide answers to simple questions that as yet have received no detailed response. First, it should be possible to establish at what age Anglo-Saxons considered that a child became an adult, and whether there were any rites of passage in the child’s progression to adult status. Second, it should also be possible to establish whether this juvenile/adult age was firmly fixed, or whether it varied according to social occasion, as modern child/adult limits do. As an artificial barrier, it would not be surprising if the perceived age of transition from juvenility to adulthood was subject to variation.
Anglo-Saxon vocabulary recognised the stages of childhood (cildhad) and youth (gugodhad). There were also various words for describing the condition of being a child.” Other sources of evidence indicate that the Anglo-Saxons distinguished between adults and children. A simple comparison of burial ritual suggests that child burials were not identical to those of adults in that, as a group, they were buried with significantly fewer grave goods than adults were. At the cemetery of Portway, Hampshire, the excavator noted that, with only three exceptions, the burials without grave goods were of children.” Documentary evidence from the Anglo-Saxon period reinforces the idea that juveniles were a recognised group apart from adults. Twenty-five of the surviving lawcodes from the Anglo-Saxon period deal specifically with the problems of children and their protection.'”
Seven of these lawcodes also deal with the problem of the juvenile age limit, and one code of Aithelstan is purely concerned with the problem of defining the age at which a child was able to take responsibility for its actions. For the lawmakers, from the late sixth-century A:thelbert of Kent to those of the Norman Conquest, the age limit hovered between ten years and twelve, with one brief and uncharacteristic leap to fifteen in the legislation of King A‘thelstan. The question of appropriate age thresholds between the adult and juvenile worlds was one that exercised this section of Anglo-Saxon society at least.
The biological arguments for placing children in a special category are almost too obvious to need stating, and even though there must be caveats about the relationship between physical growth and social transition, in the light of some modern researches and excavation reports to be discussed later, the arguments need to be outlined here. In biological terms, children are quite simply not adults. Children are different; their perceptions are different, as are their requirements. They are dependants, learners and developers in different proportions through their earliest years.
They are not, mentally or physically, part of the adult world, particularly in their first five to ten years of life. It has long been held by child psychologists that in any given society, the physical and mental development of the normal child follows the same pattern from year to year: although no two individuals are exactly alike, all normal children tend to follow a general sequence of growth characteristic of the species and of a cultural group. Every child has a unique pattern of growth but that pattern is a variant of a basic sequence.
This concept is of crucial importance in my examination of childhood based on difficult and incomplete evidence. Within certain parameters, the age at which a child in any society will be able to take on a full adult role will vary according to diet, the complexity of the society, the responsibilities that must be borne in adult life, and so on, but the fact remains that children are different because they are immature — because that is part of being a child. Other social categories, such as priests or slaves, are not biologically predetermined — a slave does not have to be a slave except that society makes him so; there is nothing about him, physically, that decrees he should be a slave as opposed to a freeman — and indeed in Anglo-Saxon society people could and did move from slavery to freedom and back again. In other words, we may take the fact that not all societies have slaves or priests as an argument for not assuming that there are slaves or priests in a given population until their presence is proven, but all societies have children who are, inevitably, different to adults, and therefore need to be treated as such. The only circumstance under which children can be ignored as a separate group in, for example, a cemetery population, is if it can be shown absolutely clearly that they were not accorded differential treatment in the burial ritual.
Given that children are not adults, it follows that the society of which they form a part must have to differentiate between the treatment of juveniles and adults. How a society manifests these differences may vary because, notwithstanding the biological changes that occur during it, childhood is essentially a social construct — the childhood you experience is dependent not on biological growth, which would mean that all children everywhere and at all times were treated in exactly the same way, but rather is a product of a particular social setting. Today, for example, children are given some adult attributes from an early age. After weaning, they tend to eat the same foods as adults (though some foods such as fish fingers or spaghetti shapes are considered more appropriate for children than for adults), and wear clothes that imitate adult fashions.
There are also, however, compulsory forms of differentiation. Children have to go to school, they may pay half price for some services such as public transport and amusements (although the age limit on this varies from place to place) and are conventionally excluded from certain topics of conversation that are not considered by adults to be good for them. All adult life, not just the lives of parents, is affected by this special treatment afforded to children.
A trivial example is that, because certain aspects of adult society are ideally considered taboo for children, adults in the UK have restricted viewing on terrestrial television up to the nine o’clock ‘watershed’. We also have recognised ages at which children may become formally initiated into the adult world, although these age limits are not consistent. At sixteen they may marry, at eighteen they may vote, and at twenty-one they may have a large party to celebrate complete membership of adult society. In other societies, different customs prevail. The Kayapo tribe of central Brazil considers children to be extensions of their parents until they are weaned, and until that time, they wear their hair long and have red ear-lobe plugs, like adults.’
Finally, of course, it should be recognised that ‘the child is father to the man’, and that the study of Anglo-Saxon children is important because much adult social behaviour is shaped by childhood experience. However, as James Schultz remarked, the modern assumption that upbringing or nurture may have an impact on the behaviour of the adult does not apply in all societies at all times.” According to Schultz’s study of medieval High German literature, there was no perceived link between childhood and adulthood. Skills learnt in childhood by literary figures bore no relationship to their skills in adulthood, and their nature — what they were genetically programmed to be — was far more significant. Thus Parzival, who was kept ignorant of knighthood until he was a youth, at his first contact with the courtly world of the military knight becomes an adept fighter, capable of overthrowing experienced warriors. Parzival’s noble blood determined his skills, not his childhood and training. This literary construct of the High German Middle Ages is taken further by Schultz: he suggests that adult behaviour determines the childhood of the heroes, rather than the other way around.
Thus a saint will have a saintly childhood — no saint could do otherwise. Effectively, in medieval High German literature, it does not matter how traumatic or dislocated a childhood may have been — abandonment, fosterage and orphanage are a commonplace for such children — there will be no impact on the character or behaviour of the adult. If such literature has any bearing on a society’s actual views about childhood, then it is worth noting that the Anglo-Saxon perspective is ambiguous.
The saintly Cuthbert behaved like a ‘normal’ child until he was miraculously warned that his destiny was to be a holy man. The saint Guthlac was clearly and emphatically conditioned by his childhood (nurture): it was because he had listened to heroic tales in his childhood that he determined to become a warrior in his later years. The hagiographer emphasised that Guthlac’s innate good nature came through even when he was leading a band of warriors, because he tended to give away a proportion of his booty to the poor, like an earlier version of Robin Hood. Ultimately, Guthlac’s destiny caught up with him (as indicated by the miracles at his birth) and he became a monk.
The lack of a link between nurture and adult behaviour is suggested by the Old English poem The Fates of Man which effectively argued that, no matter how carefully and lovingly parents reared their children, in the end, when the child left home, the parents could not control the destiny of their offspring. This fatalistic prognostication may argue against nurture having a part to play, but such comments do strike a chord with many modern parents. It is a simple and true enough observation that parents do their best to bring up their children well, and often their own personal hopes for their adolescents are at odds with reality.
Not all Anglo-Saxon parents had to ask themselves where they went wrong — the biographer Asser remarked that King Alfred’s children, brought up within the royal court and carefully educated, were a credit to their father.” Furthermore, the literary Anglo-Saxons of the later period were fully aware of the Biblical teaching that ‘he who spares the rod spoils the child’, a maxim encapsulating the belief that there was a clear correlation between nurture and adult behaviour: what happened in childhood would have a direct impact on the child’s mature character.
The whole question of the place of children in any society is a vexed one. Children occupy an anomalous, subliminal position. They are both within the boundaries of ‘normal’ society, learning how to occupy their place in it, but they are also outsiders, a group apart, with their own particular requirements and rules. Because of this, evidence demonstrating adult attitudes towards children tends to be conflicting and baffling, but children as a distinctive group to whom distinctive rules apply, are worthy of separate and intensive study if the full complexity of earlier Anglo-Saxon society is to be more clearly comprehended.
A brief introduction to the study of childhood and family structure is provided in the first chapter of this book, because a grasp of the general discussions about the theory of childhood is essential for any informed and meaningful interpretation of the archaeological and documentary evidence; and the theoretical debates, well known to historians of childhood, are almost undiscussed within Anglo-Saxon studies. This chapter is followed by a discussion of the archaeological and documentary sources relevant to the study of Anglo-Saxon childhood.
The two significant types of archaeological material that have any bearing on the study of childhood are the excavated Anglo-Saxon cemeteries and the settlement sites. Of these two, the evidence from the cemeteries is by far the most important, offering valuable information, not only about the physical remains of the Anglo-Saxons (diet, pathology, life expectancy), but also about the social behaviour of the burying populations. The pagan Anglo-Saxons buried their dead with a variety of grave goods, and the types of grave goods associated with children, as well as their relationship to other burials in the communal cemeteries give clues about age-related mortuary ritual, and offer tantalising suggestions about the ritual importance of juveniles at various ages within the burial community.
The last thirty years has seen increasing sophistication in methods of interpreting burial archaeology, and current anthropological thinking on the interpretation of mortuary symbolism will be discussed in Chapter 2. Much of the archaeological evidence used in this book will be drawn from a
database consisting of information from thirteen fifth- to seventh-century cemetery sites. Since documentary sources also exist which do appear to have some bearing on pre-Christian Anglo-Saxon society, these sources have also been dragooned into service. The use of later sources to elucidate earlier society is not without major pitfalls, and these will be examined in due course. The various sources — poetry, hagiography, medical texts, lawcodes, charters and wills — require a clear context if we are to be sure that they have any bearing on earlier Anglo-Saxon society, so their usefulness as evidence will be given careful scrutiny. It is always tempting for archaeologists to draw on sources that seem to fit their current theories while conveniently ignoring those that do not and completely overlooking the possibility that the plundered texts may not have any real relevance at all, but it would be equally misguided to ignore the documentary sources just because they are treacherous friends.
Since schooling and literacy did not emerge until the arrival of Christianity, the literature inevitably deals with the later Anglo-Saxon period. This is not to say that there is no link between the two periods: the early centuries of Anglo-Saxon occupation formed the foundations for the later society — the pagan period was not totally divorced from the Christian, any more than our own modern society owes nothing to the societies that preceded it. In the same way, much of the literature draws on oral traditions that extend back into the pagan past. Archaeological and historical evidence essentially provide two rather blurred windows looking onto Anglo-Saxon childhood, the one yielding an insight into the more physical aspects of juvenile life and death, the other being invaluable in providing evidence for the ‘ideal’ and psychological attitudes of adults towards offspring.
What I mean by ‘childhood’ is what Anglo-Saxons conceived children to be, and what I am studying is the treatment and environment of, the responsibilities given to, and the attitudes shown towards, children by Anglo-Saxon adults. Children offer no histories of themselves in this period; almost all the sources give us only the Anglo-Saxon adult’s perception of the child and the child’s world.
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