The whole policy of the Angevin kings tended to mould their insular subjects into an united English nation. Their equal administration completed that wiping-out of local distinctions which had been begun by the wisdom of the Norman kings and helped on by the confusion of the civil war; their developement of old English methods of judicial and administrative procedure brought the English people again visibly and tangibly to the forefront of affairs. Even those very qualities and tendencies which were most un-English in the Angevins themselves helped indirectly to a like result. The almost world-wide range of their political interests gave England once more a place among the nations, and a place far more important than any which she had ever before held. For, above all, it was England that they represented in the eyes of the continental powers; it was as “Kings of the English” that they stood before the world; and it was as Kings of the English that their successors were to stand there still, when the Angevin empire had crumbled into dust. On the eve of that catastrophe the new England found a voice. The English tongue once more asserted its right to a place among the literary tongues of Europe. The higher English poetry, which had slumbered ever since the days of Cadmon, suddenly woke again to life among the Worcestershire hills. The story of the origin of Layamon’s Brut can never be told half so well as in the poet’s own words. “A priest there was in the land, Layamon was he named; he was Leovenath’s son; may the Lord be gracious to him! He dwelt at Ernley, at a noble church by Severn’s bank—good it there seemed to him!—hard by Radstone, where he read books. It came into his mind, and into his chief thoughts, that he would tell the noble deeds of Englishmen—what they were called, and whence they came, who first owned English land.... Layamon began to journey wide over this land, and got the noble books that he took for models. He took the English book that Saint Beda made; another he took, in Latin, that Saint Albin made, and the fair Austin, who brought baptism in hither; a third book he took, and laid there in the midst, that a French clerk made, Wace was he called, who well could write, and he gave it to the noble Eleanor who was the high King Henry’s queen. Layamon laid these books before him, and turned the leaves; he lovingly beheld them; may the Lord be merciful to him! Pen he took with fingers and wrote on a bookskin, and the true words set together, and the three books compressed into one.”[2304] We must not blame a dweller on the western border in the early days of King John if, when setting himself to tell “the noble deeds of Englishmen,” he thought it needful to begin with the fall of Troy after the pattern of Wace and Wace’s original, Geoffrey of Monmouth. We can only be thankful to this simple English priest for leaving to us a purely English poem of more than thirty thousand lines which is indeed beyond all price, not only as a specimen of our language at one of its most interesting stages, but as an abiding witness to the new spirit of patriotism which, ten years and more before the signing of the Great Charter, was growing up in such quiet corners of the land as this little parish of “Ernley” (or Areley Kings) by Severn-side. The subject-matter of Layamon’s book might be taken chiefly from his French guide, Wace; but its spirit and its language are both alike thoroughly English. The poet’s “chief thought,” as he says himself, was to “tell the noble deeds of Englishmen,” to Englishmen, in their own English tongue. A man who wrote with such an ambition as this was surely not unworthy of the simple reward which was all that he asked of his readers: “Now prayeth Layamon, for love of Almighty God, every good man that shall read this book and learn this counsel, that he say together these soothfast words for his father’s soul, and for his mother’s soul, and for his own soul, that it may be the happier thereby. Amen!”[2305]

Layamon’s Brut was written at some time between John’s crowning and his return to England, after the loss of Normandy, in 1206.[2306] It was a token that, on both sides of the sea, the Angevins’ work was all but ended, their mission all but fulfilled. The noblest part of that mission was something of which they themselves can never have been fully conscious; and yet perhaps through that very unconsciousness they had fulfilled it the more thoroughly. “The silent growth and elevation of the English people”—as that people’s own historian has taught us—“was the real work of their reigns;”[2307] and even from a survey so imperfect as ours we may see that when John came home in 1206 the work was practically done.

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