Boudica: Historical Commentaries, Poetry, and Plays: Historical Commentaries, Poetry, and Plays

By Aleks Matza

What began as a military invasion of Britain by Julius Caesar in 55 BC reached its tragic apex in AD 61 when Queen Boudica of the Iceni led a formidable army against the might of Rome. Although defeated in her quest and all but forgotten by history, Boudica was rediscovered during the Renaissance and elevated to a legendary status that continues unabated to this day.

Boudica: Historical Commentaries, Poetry, and Plays is the first anthology devoted exclusively to the story of her rebellion as seen through the eyes of thirty-two authors spanning eighteen centuries and provides an invaluable reference source for anyone interested in the story of the remarkable and terrifying woman who dared to bring the Roman Empire to its knees.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 18, 2010
• ISBN: 9781462801848

Aleks Matza

Matza is a writer and author whose long-time interest in Boudica and Roman Britain served as the inspiration for this work, drawn from his personal collection. He lives in Illinois.

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Boudica

Historical Commentaries, Poetry, and Plays

EDITED AND WITH

INTRODUCTION BY

Aleks Matza

Copyright © 2010 by Charles Aleks Matza Jr.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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Contents

ILLUSTRATIONS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

tINTRODUCTION

HISTORICAL COMMENTARIES

Tacitus The Life of Agricola

Tacitus The Annals, Book 14

Cassius Dio Roman History, Book 62

Gildas Bandonicus On the Ruin of Britain

Hector Böece The Chronicles of Scotland

Polydore Vergil English History

Raphael Holinshed Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland

John Clapham The Historie of England

Ben Jonson The Masque of Queens

John Speed The History of Great Britaine Under the Conquests of the Romans,

Saxons, Danes, and Normans

Thomas Heywood The Exemplary Lives and Memorable Acts of Nine of the Most

Worthy Women of the World

John Milton The History of Britain, Book II

Aylett Sammes Antiquities of Ancient Britain

Octavius Freire Owen The Heroines of History

Anna Jameson Lives of Celebrated Female Sovereigns and Illustrious Women

Leopold Von Ranke A History of England

Theodor Mommsen The Provinces of the Roman Empire

Sir Charles Oman England Before the Norman Conquest

POETRY

Edmund Spenser Boadicea: A Poem

Edmund Spenser The Ruines of Time

Michael Drayton Poly-Olbion

William Cowper Boadicea, An Ode

William Whewell Boadicea: A Poem

Anne Powell Boadicea

Alfred Tennyson Boadicea

E. Percy Schofield Boadicea

PLAYS

John Fletcher

Bonduca

Richard Glover

Boadicia, A Tragedy

Coutts Lindsay

Boadicea, A Tragedy

Emilia Aylmer Gowing

Boadicea: A Play in Four Acts

Edmund Willan

Boadicea, Queen of the Iceni

Laurence Binyon

Boadicea: A Play in Eight Scenes

BIBLIOGRAPHY

ILLUSTRATIONS

Cover: Boadicea Haranguing the Britons, James S. Virtue, London.

Introduction: Britannia Romana 12

Historical Commentaries: Boadicia, from Aylett Sammes’s Antiquities of Ancient Britain 38

Poetry: Boadicea and Her Daughters, R. A. Artlett,

from the Group by J. Thomas 134

Plays: Mrs. Hunter in the Character of Boadicea,

from Richard Glover’s Boadicea 186

Bibliography: Boadicea, from Octavius Freire Owens’s

The Heroines of History 729

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The University of Chicago Regenstein Library and Department of Special Collections.

The Chicago Public Library.

The British Library, London.

The Harry Ransom Center, University of Texas at Austin.

The Society of Authors as the literary representative of the estate of Laurence Binyon.

Arthur H. Stockwell Publishers, North Devon.

The Portrait Library, K Books, York.

Powell’s Books.

Reprographics Imaging.

The independent booksellers of the United States and England.

Glenn G.

INTRODUCTION

missing image file

In AD 61, the proud and noble people of Albion, long under the yoke of Roman oppression, rose up in open revolt, their leader a passionate and imposing presence enflamed to action by personal tragedy. After a series of victories over their masters—and with freedom within their grasp—the rebels were crushed in a final battle, and their beloved leader, rather than suffer the humiliation of capture and certain death, committed suicide and passed into legend.

Nineteen and a half centuries later, the story of the British warrior queen Boudica continues to fascinate and inspire scholars, artists, writers, poets, and devotees of Celtic culture. Military commander, Druid priestess, barbarian—all of these are fictions and inventions that take as their source a single account written by a Roman decades after the fact and unknown to the rest of the world until the Renaissance. Even now, what we know about Boudica and the tribes of Roman Britain has been limited to archaeological evidence and conjecture, leaving only the certainty that the rebellion did indeed take place. Of the woman at the center of the storm, all we can say for sure is that she is an enigma and will likely remain so.

The problem with bringing Boudica into contemporary focus rests solely with the fact that there is no written Celtic account to provide any counterpoint to our understanding of her life and the Roman occupation of her country. The Celts would not develop their own literature until much later, relying instead upon an oral tradition passed down through the generations. What information Cornelius Tacitus was able to gather (as he never stepped foot on the island) came primarily from his father-in-law Julius Agricola, who first served as tribunus laticlavius in Britain under Suetonius Paulinus at the time of the uprising, then later as the island’s military governor. Even the Greek scholar Cassius Dio drew heavily from Tacitus, adding embellishments to his Roman History some one hundred and fifty years after Tacitus’s Annals first appeared. Subsequent writers culled pertinent information from both Tacitus and Dio in offering their own viewpoints, but few strayed very far from the original Latin text. Even so, Tacitus left us with a host of unanswered questions, and whatever information was available to him at that time has been lost to us.

It is because of these and other uncertainties that the story of Boudica has provided such fertile ground for speculation and mythmaking. From serious scholarship to fictional potboilers, very few historical figures have received such wide-ranging attention. Stories being what they are, every age has added its own unique perspective, and what remains today is a stew of patriotism, ax-grinding, romanticism, and wishful thinking. But without her side of the story, the truth may never be known.

What’s in a Name?

The two most common names used throughout modern history have been Boudicca and Boadicea, the former from Tacitus, the latter from what has been attributed to early manuscript copying errors. This is not difficult to imagine, as even a casual glance at both names easily points out how they could have been made:

Boudicca Boadicea

The u in Boudicca becomes an a, the second c becomes an e. Simple enough. But what is often overlooked is that this name has seen no less than thirty variations, with many writers and historians using more than one in their works.

Boudica is taken from the word bouda, which means victory, and by extension the name Victoria. This is a convenient appellation for someone who was to lead a massive army against the Romans, and it begs the question: Was this her given name at birth, or was she called Boudica by her troops during the successful annihilation of Camulodunum (Colchester), Londinium (London), and Verulamium (St. Albans)? Given that there are no extant records of her life, is it possible that Julius Agricola had merely passed along a name given to the queen by her followers in recognition of her leadership?

In an appendix to The Rebellion of Boudicca (1962), written by Donald R. Dudley and Graham Webster (two of the twentieth century’s foremost authorities on the subject), philologist K. H. Jackson attempted to set the record straight once and for all:

‘Boudicca.’ This is the form written by Tacitus, apparently, but it is wrong; it should have only one C. I should very much like to see ‘Boudica’ adopted; everyone has been so pleased with the emendation of the old ‘Boadicea’, believing it to be confirmed by Welsh, but they have not got it perfectly right. The name is a derivative of bouda ‘victory’, and is of course the Mod. Welsh buddug, ‘Victoria’. But buddug is a secondary development, with vowel-harmony from (older) buddig, and this is from British ‘Boudica’, which is the correct form of the lady’s name. ‘Bouddicca’ would give Buddech; ‘Boudicca’ would give Buddoch; and Boudica would give Buddeg. The only possible solution is Boudica, from bouda and the—ico—adjectival termination.

Graham Webster used the corrected version of the name in his book Boudica: The British Revolt Against Rome AD 60 (1978). Since then the name Boudica has gained greater currency and is used in this introduction.

The Rebellion

The facts as laid out by Tacitus get right to the point. Upon the death of Prasutagus, Boudica’s husband and king of the Iceni (a tribe occupying southeast England), the Roman procurator Catus Decianus negated the king’s will (leaving half his kingdom to Nero, the other half to Boudica’s daughters) and imprisoned or made slaves of the royal household, the homes and possessions of the Iceni confiscated. Boudica was publicly whipped in front of her own people, and her two daughters were raped. Amassing an army of seasoned warriors, Boudica led a rampage of terror, killing tens of thousands of Romans and British sympathizers. The military governor—Suetonius Paulinus—rushed back from his campaign to wipe out the Druids on the island of Anglesey (also called Mona), but was only able to muster 10,000 soldiers in a desperate defense. Faced with overwhelming odds, Suetonius nevertheless won the day, and Boudica ended her life rather than be captured and paraded through the streets of Rome.

It would be easy to assume that Boudica’s rebellion was an isolated incident, but the fact is that British tribes had been in an almost constant state of rebellion since the emperor Claudius launched his invasion of the island in AD 43, picking up where Julius Caesar had left off nearly a century before. If not for the arrogance and brutality of the Romans in dealing with Boudica, there would be no story to tell, and the Icenian queen would have gone about her life ruling her kingdom and raising her children. And although Tacitus gave prominence to Rome’s glorious victory, he was also clearly critical of his countrymen’s disastrous handling of the situation.

Cassius Dio used Tacitus as the basis for his own telling of the story but went several steps further by giving voice to Boudica in the form of an impossible speech laced with classical allusions and an assault on the emperor Nero’s sexuality. It must have been quite dramatic to listen to, but as serious literature it has little historical veracity. True, Tacitus also gave voice to Boudica and Suetonius, but their speeches are short, sober, and direct, quite possibly what two leaders might have said to their respective armies before battle. Unfortunately, Dio’s version went on to be repeated and quoted as fact, as if someone were actually there on the battlefield recording these speeches for posterity. This merely adds to the legend surrounding Boudica, but it should be seen for what it is—extreme literary license for the purpose of entertainment. Dio also gives us a physical description of Boudica, but no doubt he assimilated past descriptions of the Celts to form his own larger-than-life depiction of the terrifying woman who brought Rome to its knees.

The Narratives of Tacitus and Cassius Dio

Although most of what has been written of the rebellion comes from the Annals, Boudica actually made her first appearance in Agricola, Tacitus’s tribute to his father-in-law. This early account, delivered in a straightforward manner, concerns itself with the grievances of the Britons, who seek to reclaim their island and throw off their chains of slavery. Boudica appears as a minor character, mentioned only at the very end and without much detail. Tacitus quickly wraps up his story merely by saying that Paulinus moved swiftly to save the Roman province, then moves on to other matters.

It wasn’t until Tacitus returned to the subject in the Annals that a full rendering of the rebellion in general and Boudica in particular were given greater detail. In this version, written in the same precise yet very dramatic style, the exact causes of the rebellion and Boudica’s role are given center stage.

The orations of Boudica and Suetonius were, of course, total fabrications, but Tacitus used them to neatly summarize attitudes on both sides of the conflict. It is also the first we read that Boudica poisoned herself rather than be captured. The only aspect of the account that leaves little doubt of Tacitus’s desire to praise the glories of Rome comes from the incredible number of deaths involved: 70,000 killed in the destruction of the three towns, and 80,000 British deaths in the final battle, in which only 400 Roman soldiers out of 10,000 lost their lives. These numbers are highly suspect, beginning with the tribes who rallied to Boudica’s cause. Such a large army would have been unmanageable for a single leader, and yet no other commanders are ever mentioned. As for the final death toll, 150,000 would have been hard to miss let alone deal with. If the devastation of the rebellion was so great, where are the remains of those who died?

Cassius Dio used this account as the basis for his own telling of the story in his Roman History, but here the rebellion takes on a life of its own, with details never mentioned by Tacitus and a British force now numbering 230,000. Boudica’s speech becomes a long-winded, melodramatic call to arms (one can just about hear background music swelling with nationalistic pride), and her death is followed by a magnificent funeral. How her people managed to bury her without the Romans finding out is never explained. Three other features stand out, as well. The first is the inclusion of statesman and philosopher Seneca’s role as a major investor in the island. By some accounts Nero considered abandoning Britain altogether, but Seneca wanted his money back and talked him out of it. The second is a horrific description of brutal acts of savagery committed by the Britons, in particular the ritual sacrifice of any women they didn’t kill along the way. It was no secret that the Celts of Europe and Britain practiced human sacrifice as a form of divination, but to suggest that they took the time between the sacking of three towns to individually mutilate hundreds if not thousands of women only underscores the sensationalistic nature of Dio’s rendering. The third is Boudica’s release of a hare as a portent of victory, followed by a prayer to the goddess Andraste as their true leader.

The goddess Andraste, it should be noted, appears nowhere else in future Celtic literature and lore. It has been suggested that a goddess of similar name—Andarte—was adopted from northern Gaul as a local deity, but beyond that there is no evidence she was worshipped either by the Iceni or by any other tribe throughout the island. She was also called Andasta, Andarta, and Andate.

Boudica Lost

Boudica reappeared briefly in two English works: De Excidio Britanniae (On the Ruin of Britain) by Gildas in the mid-sixth century, and in the Historia Ecclesiastica of the Venerable Bede in AD 731. Gildas’s diatribe against the sins of his countrymen provided the backdrop for his discussion of the rebellion, and although he never mentions her directly by name, Gildas reserves particular venom for Boudica.

When afterwards they returned to Rome, for want of pay, as is said, and had no suspicion of an approaching rebellion, that deceitful lioness put to death the rulers who had been left among them, to unfold more fully and to confirm the enterprises of the Romans. When the report of these things reached the senate, and they with a speedy army made haste to take vengeance on the crafty foxes, as they called them, there was no bold navy on the sea to fight bravely for the country; by land there was no marshalled army, no right wing of battle, nor other preparation for resistance; but their backs were their shields against their vanquishers, and they presented their necks to their swords, whilst chill terror ran through every limb, and they stretched out their hands to be bound, like women; so that it has become a proverb far and wide, that the Britons are neither brave in war nor faithful in time of peace.

Bede, in contrast, mentions the revolt only in passing:

Nero, however, succeeding Claudius in the empire, never durst meddle at all with warlike matters. Whereby among other many hindrances which befell in his time unto the empire, one was that he had almost lost Britain: for under him two most noble towns were there taken and overthrown.

Bede’s naming of only two overthrown towns instead of three, coupled with a decided lack of detail, shows that Boudica was fading away. Indeed, this would be the last mention of the uprising in Britain. This is clearly evident in The History of the Kings of Britain (Historia Regum Britanniae) by Geoffrey of Monmouth in the mid-twelfth century, in which there is no mention whatsoever of Boudica or the revolt. Given the scope of his text, covering a period between 1100 BC and AD 689, one wonders what Geoffrey might have made of her.

From the time of Bede, it would be eight hundred years before the Icenian queen would become known to the world, and with it the start of a legend.

Boudica Rediscovered

In 1360, the Italian writer Giovanni Boccaccio was said to have discovered a wealth of long-lost manuscripts at the monastery of Monte Cassino, among them the works of Tacitus. It was not until 1410 that a portion of the Annals was found, 1430 when the Histories were recovered, and another hundred years before the entire corpus of Tacitus was published (1533). From this point on, the story of Boudica would embark upon a long and oftentimes strange journey through the ages.

If errors in manuscript copying are to blame for the numerous varieties of Boudica’s name, it first comes to light in 1531 with Hector Böece’s The History and Chronicles of Scotland (first published in Paris in 1526). Böece not only moves the entire story to the north but splits Boudica into two separate people, Voada and her youngest daughter Vodicia, both of whom wage war against the Romans. Rather than take matters into her own hands, Voada appeals to her brother (and king of Scotland) Corbreid and other sympathetic kings for help:

Had I been born, most valiant companions, a man, I might not have suffered so many cruel and intolerable injuries as now are done by the Romans: nonetheless, in whatever image nature has formed me, if you will concur with me to revenge the common offence done to us all, these Romans, that are so valiant against women, and so cruel to their subjects, shall soon know what valour ladies may do when extreme danger occurs. And though I may not devoid myself of wifely image, though I shall not want manly hardiment. But I shall fight foremost in the battle with 5,000 armed ladies, who are all sworn to revenge the cruelties done by the Romans. We shall proceed foremost in battle but fear of death or bloody wounds. We shall not, as other women, be afraid for any wounds taken or given by our enemies. I can have no mercy on them that have invaded by friends with sick odious slaughter and cruelties. Their odious tyrant, naked and void of piety, has slain so infinite number of people, and deflowered so many honest virgins and matrons, that they know not themselves, as I believe, men, not born of women. Arm now for this reason most valiant kings, against your common enemies with sick courage as you shall see ladies have before you. And believe not but sicker victory, for the Romans are so afraid that they confide in nothing more at this time than in fleeing. And haste your army with all diligence in adventure, so new power comes not with Catus, the Roman procurator, through whom it shall be more difficult to resist. And finally I beseech you to render not yourself, your wife and children, but sharp bargain to the Romans.

Poised to destroy Suetonius’s forces, Voada addresses her troops:

Now rest not, said she, but only to fight against their miserable troops that were safest by their shameful flight from this last battle. And though Suetonius their new captain may exhort them to battle, he may not restore (since they are vanquished) their courage and spirit. Will you consider, said she, your vanquished and defeated adversaries, against whom you should now fight, will you consider your own might and the occasion of battle, you shall think it honorable, other to be victorious in this battle, or else all at once to die, for noble men should choose rather to die honestly than shamefully to live.

After the battle, Voada kills herself. Both of her daughters are taken prisoner and brought before Suetonius. The eldest daughter—who is never named—is married off to Marius, a noble knight of Roman blood (who nevertheless had raped her earlier), and the two become king and queen of Britain. The younger daughter—Vodicia—is left to her own devices, since she returns two chapters later to command her own army. Once again she finds herself on the losing end of the rebellion, this time at the hands of Petulius, and is taken prisoner. Under questioning, Vodicia remains defiant, but this time the Romans execute her.

In Polydore Vergil’s English History (1534), Voadicia (or Vodicia, since both spellings are found in the manuscript) makes her case as being the most wronged of the Britons. The account is pure Tacitus, yet Vergil leaves out the speeches of Boudica and Suetonius Paulinus and voices his skepticism when it comes to the strange events that helped provoke the rebellion:

These and suche like things, whether thei were donn bie the illusion of menn or devells, or whether indeed there bee enie force in the nature of things, which the baser sorte doe som time superstitiouslie note as signes and woonders, I would gladlie have lett passe, lest wee showld seeme to bringe inconvenience to that relligion which, teachinge all thinges to be ordered bie the Divine providence of Godde, dothe rejecte such vaine southesaings of thinges to comme, if the nature of an historie wowlde soe permitte, which will that all thinges trulie donne showld bee faythefullie written. Wherfore nothing shalbee opprobrius unto us, ether in this place or elsewheare, declaring suche thingges but to the follie of menne, who like olde wiches have gonne abowte with suche fore tokens to attaine the knowledge of things ensewinge; and this have I said partlie to thentent that noe manne should to farre welter in suche fanatike and fond observations; therefore even from the beginninge I thought goodd to speake of suche matters beefor hande, bi cause wee ernestlie minde that the reader shoulde incurree noe erroe: but now to the matter.

In 1535, William Stewart wrote A Metrical Version of the History of Hector Böece, a simultaneous translation of the original Latin text in verse along with John Belleden’s prose edition for James the Fifth of Scotland. Stewart’s interpretation is filled with numerous instances of flights of fancy, but in general, Böece’s story of the warrior queen remains intact.

Raphael Holinshed made an attempt to correct the story in his Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland (1577) using Tacitus, Dio Cassius, and Polydore Vergil as his sources, but taking his cue from Dio’s incarnation, Holinshed’s Voadicia has quite a bit to say to her people. She is also referred to as Bunduica and Bunuica. John Clapham’s Historie of England (1602) is notable in that he makes mention of the inner workings of Druid culture before continuing on with the story.

To celebrate the British defeat of the Spanish Armada, James Aske composed Elizabetha Triumphans (1588). It is the first instance in which a British sovereign is compared to Boudica, but instead of fighting the Romans, Elizabeth is set against the damned practices that the devilish Popes of Rome have used ever since her Highness first coming to the Crown, by moving her wicked and traitorous subjects to rebellion and conspiracies, thereby to bereave her Majesty of her lawful seat and happy life.

Now Voada once England’s happy Queene,

Through Romans flight by her constrain’d to flee:

Who making way amidst the slaughtered corps,

Pursued her foes with honor of the day

With Vodice, her daughter (her too like,

Who urging wounds with constant courage died)

Are now reviv’d, their virtues live (I say)

Through this our Queene, now England’s happy Queene.

In a like manner, Boudica appears in two of Edmund Spenser’s poems, The Faerie Queen in 1590 and The Ruines of Time in 1591.

In that same year, Boudica took yet another detour with the publication of Le Vite Delle Donne Illustri Del Regno D’Inghilterra, & del Regno di Scotia (The Lives of the Noble Ladies of the Kingdom of England and Scotland), written by Petruccio Ubaldini. Like Böece before him (Voada/Vodicia), Ubaldini splits Boudica into two people, Voadicia and Bunduica, only this time not as mother and daughter but as two separate queens, one following the narrative of Tacitus, and the other of Dio. Though short on details, Ubaldini’s Lives is not so much a historical account of the rebellion as it is a morality tale, one of a righteous fight against oppression and the other of cruelty as vengeance.

The name Boadicea was first introduced by William Camden, whose 1586 Britannia follows Tacitus almost to the letter. From here Boadicea would become the principal name among historians. Variations would still appear, however. In Ben Jonson’s appendix to his 1609 Masque of Queens, he makes mention of Voadicea, or Boodicea; by some, Bunduica, and Bunduca, but only as a footnote.

From Page to Stage

Boudica officially passed from the realm of history into theater with the production of playwright John Fletcher’s Bonduca, first performed in 1613. Of this and the other plays included in this book more will be said later, but as the centuries passed Boudica’s stature as a rebel leader and political icon vied for attention in the hearts and minds of readers and audiences alike.

Michael Drayton’s Poly-Olbion (1612) was presented as a large-scale poem set to individual Songs, the eighth of these mostly dealing with Rome’s expansion into Britain. Like Tacitus’s Boudica of Agricola, very little is said about the rebellion:

The Colony long kept at Mauldon, overthrowne,

Which by prodigious signes was many times fore-showne,

And often had dismai’d the Roman souldiers: when

Brave Voadicia made with her resolved’st men

To Virolam; whose siege with fire and sword she pli’d,

Till leveld with the earth. To London as shee hy’d,

The Consull coming in with his auspicious ayde,

The Queene (to quit her yoke no longer that delay’d)

Him dar’d by dint of sword, it hers or his to try,

With words that courage show’d, and with a voice as hie

(In her right hand her Launce, and in her left her Shield,

As both the Battells stood prepared in the Field)

Incouraging her men: which resolute, as strong,

Upon the Roman rusht; and shee, the rest among,

Wades in that doubtfull warre: till lastly, when she saw

The fortune of the day unto the Roman draw,

The Queene (t’out-live her friends who highly did disdaine,

And lastly, for proud Rome a Triumph to remaine)

By poyson ends her dayes, unto that end prepar’d,

As lavishly to spend what Suetonius spar’d.

Edmund Bolton’s Nero Caesar of 1624 demonstrates considerable scholarship and the author’s obvious familiarity with not only Tacitus and Cassius Dio, but also with historians as diverse as Polybius, Strabo, and Nennius, combined with Bede, Gildas, Camden, and Holinshed. Bolton provides a complete overview of the rebellion using multiple viewpoints, cultural digressions, and military strategies to great effect. In one noteworthy passage, the fate of London provides insight into the thoughts of Suetonius Paulinus as he makes his decision to abandon the town to Boudica’s forces:

For, whereas Suetonius Paullinus had here appointed the generall assemblie of his side, now upon a view taken, his troups and companies were not found full, but infrequent, and thin. The main prop therefore of resistance failed, which whither it were by Catus Decianus his example, fraud, or baseness, or otherwise, did howsoever happen. A more compulsorie cause was want of corne, which Dio notes. For neither without store of men could so great a citie be defended; nor men be kept alive without food. The fortune of London thus hanging in the balance, and swaying mainly downwards for the present, the news of Boadicia’s terrible approach, drave them whither they would or no, to a round, and present resolution. That seeing London could not be made good against the prevailing rebells, who were now in their ruffe and utmost bravery, the excellencie of the place could be no colour why they should wilfullie perish with it. The honour of the Roman name was doublie safe, both by the monstrous oddes now against them, and by a meere necessitie. Besides that, whensoever they got the upperhand againe, honour would acknowledge old clients, and willinglie returne with advantage.

Drawing upon earlier accounts of the Druids, especially in their clashes with the Romans in Gaul, Bolton dedicates a chapter to the members of this blacke agreement and makes them enthusiastic participants in the butchery that follows:

The Druids interest a most inward cause of troubles. And how much they thought it concernd them to beat off the Romans, who had forbidden their sect in Rome and Gallia, did well appeare in their bedlam doings at Mona. Upon their altars they used to offer in fire the bloud of men; and that was their sacrifice: to know what should happen, they did cut up an enemy quicke; and that was their sooth-say. They opened therefore some Roman or other alive, to read in his heart-strings, how they should speed, and intercepted his bloud to offer to their goddesse Andate. Bloud was the seale of this conivratorie secret, and this a season of all other the most likely for the wives, and daughters in lawe of the wilde and ruder Britanns (of which sort Boadicia’s forces did principallie consist) to celebrate those rites in which Plinie saith they were wont to goe naked, their bodies colourd over with oad. A grizlie ceremonie for a gastlie purpose.

To conclude his narrative, Bolton was convinced that Boudica was buried at Stonage (Stonehenge):

To strengthen which divination, the cleare testimonie of Dio, that the Britanns enterred her pompously, or with much magnificence, cannot be better verified then by assigning these orderly irregular, and formlesse, uniforme heapes of massive marble, to her everlasting remembrance.

John Speed returned to familiar territory in The History of Britaine Under the Conquests of the Romans, Saxons, Danes, and Normans in 1632, but even here the author couldn’t seem to resist trying to outdo Cassius Dio and Raphael Holinshed in Boduo’s oration. Thomas Heywood’s The Exemplary Lives and Memorable Acts of Nine of the Most Worthy Women of the World (1640) demonstrates the continuing problem writers had with Boudica’s place in world history. Previously regarded as either a freedom fighter or a savage (in many instances, both), Heywood first refers to Boudica as a gentile (used in its sense of her being non-Jewish), then in his history as a heathen. Because she was neither Jewish, Christian, nor Muslim, she lacked a faith upon which to apply religious celebration or condemnation. And the fact that she was a woman necessitated the addition of manly qualities to explain her actions.

Bunduca

How much O Brittaine, are we bound to thee

Mother, and Nurse of Magnanimity?

Of which thou from antiquity hast lent

Unto all ages famous president,

Witnes this British Queen, whose masculine spirit

Shall to all future, glorious fame inherit,

Beyond all tongues or pens, who may be proud,

Not thunders voyce, can speake itself more loud,

Of whom, although our moderne Authors wrote

But sparingly, least they should seeme to dote

Too much upon their Natives, forraigne inke

Hath been so lavish, it would make men thinke

Her valour inexpressible; Tacitus

Made her his ample theame, and to discusse,

Her gifts, were Dio’s labour: Xiphiline,

(With many others) made her acts divine,

As above all womans performanace farre,

To whom I onely leave this Character.

This British Queen whom just incensment fires,

Against the Roman Monarchy conspires,

And her revenge more hotly to pursue,

Of their best souldiers fourescore thousand slew.

Whose name all other glories might transcend

Had not adverse fate crost her in the end.

Heywood’s description of Boudica is a precise mixture of traits borrowed largely from Dio:

This Bunduca or Bondicia the Widdow of Prasutagus was not as some have described her a martiall Bosse, or Amazonian Giantesse, but tall of stature, and moderately fat and corpulent, her face excellently comely, yet with all incomparably terrible, her complexion fair and beautifull, which who will wonder at in a Lady borne in Brittaine? Her copious tresses flowing about her shoulders, and dangling in compasse even to her knees, were of a most bright yellow, though by her complection, her constitution might seeme to be cold, yet her noble actions declared that choller had the predominance in her, even to adustion, her eyes were sparkling sharpe and piercing, her tongue shrill and harsh, as her person was tall and great, her progenitors, Kings in Brittaine, and as it may be Heralisd, discended even from mighty Cassibiline himselfe.

As for her burial place, Heywood quotes Edmund Bolton:

In her death, the two injured Princesses (her Daughters) lye obscured, of them there is no remembrance (after her) remaining to Posterity; now concerning the place of Interrement, (as may be gathered from the premises) it was the admirable monument of the stones upon Salisbury Plaine, not being any worke of the Romans, but of the Brittaines, (who were wont to make stones Vocall by inscriptions). It is cald to this day Stonehendge, or Stonage, though some thinke them to have beene brought from Ireland by Merlin: The Roman Histriographers, report that shee was buryed pompously, and with great magnificence by the Brittaines, and what greater than that could be consecrated to the perpetuall memory of Bonduca then this, whole History the whole globe of the earth affordeth not a rarer? If any man shall think, as some of our Chronologers write, that it was the place where those murdred Lords in the time of Aurelius Ambrosius (whom the Pagan Hengist most traterously slew) were buryed, yet it is no hinderance to give credit, that it had beene first erected in honour of that Heroycall, and Masculine spiritted Championesse Bunduca, since the bones of men digged up neere that place, convince it to have beene sepulcrall, but Armours of a large and antique fashion; upon which the spade and pick-axe, have sometimes hit; doe cleare the Owners from being in the number of those Brittish Lords, whom the traiterous Danes slew unarmed, and weaponlesse.

Edward Howard’s The British Princes: An Heroick Poem (1669) sets Bonduca’s story on an epic scale, the longest poem yet written in homage to the queen, but a year later, John Milton made it very clear what he thought about Boudica and her rebellion in his History of Britain (1670):

Hitherto what we have heard of Cassibelan, Togadumnus, Venusius, and Caractacus hath bin full of magnanimitie, soberness, and martial skill: but the truth is, that in this Battel, and whole business, the Britans never more plainly manifested themselves to be right Barbarians; no rule, no foresight, no forecast, experience or estimation, either of themselves or of thir Enemies; such confusion, such impotence, as seem’d likest not to a Warr, but to the wild hurrey of a distracted Woeman, with as mad a Crew at her heeles.

Six years later (1676), Aylett Sammes published his Britannia, a history of the kingdom from antiquity to AD 800. Citing Tacitus as his primary source, Sammes offers no personal opinions regarding Boudica, and other than referring to Camulodunum as Malden, the story remains intact. Adding an operatic element to the tragic tale, composer Henry Purcell wrote incidental music for a revival of Fletcher’s play Bonduca in 1695, which includes Boudica’s aria Oh lead me to some peaceful gloom. The George Powell version of Bonduca, for which Purcell wrote his music, all but removes the queen from the play, and instead concentrates on the male characters.

Other writers would see Boudica in a different light. Charles Hopkins turned history into romance with his play Boadicea in 1697, and in the preface to his play Boadicia in 1753, Richard Glover added a new aspect to the rebellion by focusing on strife within the Celtic tribes as a contributing factor in their failure to defeat the Romans.

John Horsley’s Britannia Romana of 1732 is notable not only for its thorough catalogue of the Roman presence in England but also for solidifying William Camden’s use of the name Boadicea. David Hume’s History of England (1776) makes short work of the rebellion, but leaves little doubt that the Druids were ultimately responsible:

No species of superstition was ever more terrible than that of the druids. Besides the severe penalties, which it was in the power of the ecclesiastics to inflict in this world, they inculcated the eternal transmigration of souls; and thereby extended their authority as far as the fears of their timorous votaries. They practised their rites in dark groves or other secret recesses; and in order to throw a greater mystery over their religion, they communicated their doctrines only to the initiated, and strictly forbade the committing of them to writing, lest they should at any time be exposed to the examination of the profane vulgar. Human sacrifices were practised among them: the spoils of war were often devoted to their divinities; and they punished with the severest tortures whoever dared to secrete any part of the consecrated offering: these treasures they kept in woods and forests secured by no other guard than the terrors of their religion; and this steady conquest over human avidity may be regarded as more signal than their prompting men to the most extraordinary and most violent efforts.

Hume’s nocturnal images of human sacrifice and religious terror thus became wedded to Boudica’s story, further blurring the line between fact and fiction.

George Colman the Elder’s play Bonduca (1778), although nothing more than an adaptation of Fletcher’s play with George Powell’s similar cuts in Boudica’s lines, is worth noting in that after 169 years, the original text was not only still available but was still being produced for the stage. The great thespian David Garrick even provided his own prologue.

It is with William Cowper’s Ode (1782) that the queen was transformed into a symbol of the ever-expanding British Empire, mocking the failure of Rome while glorifying a nation on its own path of world domination. The religious aspects—or lack thereof—of Boudica’s story found comment in Octavius Owen’s The Heroines of History (1854). Though the account of the rebellion sides with Tacitus, Owen nevertheless concludes the tale with a decidedly Christian finale:

Contempt for death, and the reception of it with an exaggerated welcome, formed the grand basis of barbarian virtue; and the woman who fell by her own hand, was formerly an object of applause and example. Now the consolatory doctrines of Christianity teach us a nobler lesson. The great principle of worldly probation is the endurance of afflictions, which are but for a moment, by the exercise of a faith, constant and inviolate, in the Unseen. Putting it upon no higher ground, it is indeed but politic, and therefore—

—"better far to bear the ills we know,

Than fly to others which we dream not of;"—

and he who is so much a coward as to refuse to bow before the storms of adversity, will, upon moderate reflection, find in himself scarcely sufficient boldness to brave the anger of an offended Judge, when ushered with all his imperfections on his head, unsummoned, into the presence of his Maker!

Alfred Tennyson added his take on Boudica in 1859 with the writing of what he called an experiment, a poem set in the meter of Catullus’s Atys.

Returning Tacitus to serious scholarship, Anna Jameson’s Lives of Celebrated Female Sovereigns and Illustrious Women in 1870 not only reestablished the historical Boadicea, but also began a practical telling of the story, without the lengthy speeches and lurid descriptions of mass murder that marked previous histories. This practicality would also be reflected in the works of Theodor Mommsen, B. W. Henderson, Alfred von Domaszewski, Sir Charles Oman, Leopold Von Ranke, Winston Churchill, and Ronald Syme.

Boudica’s story would take many forms throughout the nineteenth century; indeed, her name was invoked across a large spectrum of the arts and scholarship: J. Brettel’s Boadicea, A New Serious Opera (1813); William Whewell’s Boadicea, A Poem (1814); Anne Powell’s Clifton, Caractacus, Boadicea, and Other Pieces (1821); Sir Coutts Bart Lindsay’s Boadicea: A Tragedy (1857); Francis Barker’s Boadicea (1859); Harry Mingden Scarth’s Boadicea and Camulodunum (1876); G. E. Troutbeck’s Boadicea, Queen of the Iceni: A Cantata (1880); Farley Newman’s Boadicea: Grand March for the Pianoforte (1884); and Emilia Gowing’s Boadicea, A Play in Four Acts (1899). In the twentieth century, Marie Trevelyan’s Britain’s Greatness Foretold (1900) became the first novelization of the rebellion, while Charles M. Doughty’s The Dawn in Britain (1906) continued the tradition of the epic, romantic poem.

Books, poems, and plays were not the only venues for expressing national pride in Boudica. Woodcuts and prints tended to reflect scenes from the final battle, with Boudica exhorting her troops, while statues and stained glass preferred to show the quiet nobility of the queen, sometimes alone and defiant, other times protecting her two daughters. And anyone who has been to London has no doubt seen the statue of Boudica across from Parliament, conceived by Thomas Thornycroft in 1856 and completed by his son and first shown in 1902. L. Priddle provided a glimpse into the story behind the statue in his History of the Boadicea Group:

The London County Council paid 1,500 pounds for the project, with the rest raised through subscriptions.

Messrs. J. W. Singer and Sons, the art metal workers from Frome, offered to carry out the casting for 2,800 pounds.

The Warrior Queen, her daughters, her chariot, and her horses, were cast in 50 pieces; the various sections are connected by means of iron pegs.

When these pegs were driven home, and the welding process completed, it is impossible to detect the joint… The group in bronze weighs about 10 tons, but, of course, the figures are not composed of solid brass, a uniform thickness of metal being obtained by the insertion of sand cores during the casting.

Boadicea herself stands 10 feet high. Her face and attitude are instinct with commanding grandeur, and we can well imagine the heroine calling upon her people to drive the tyrant Romans from the land.

The figure is much more classic than barbaric. Thomas Thornycroft’s ideal is an august Boadicea of Imperial presence. On either side of the queen crouch her daughters; the face of the one is lit with eager hope but the other is horror-struck at the thought of the coming battle. The horses rear and plunge assunder, their blowing manes and tails, together with the drapery pressed against the body of Boadicea, giving the idea the car is travelling at high speed. As is requisite in all open-air sculpture, the designer has specially studied the outline, and no matter from which direction the group is viewed, there is no disadvantageous point from whence the sublime becomes the ridiculous.

The granite plinth rises about 11 feet from the ground, and has a length of 20 feet, with a width of 15 feet. Cut deep in the stone is William Cowper’s line—

Regions Caesar never knew thy posterity shall sway.

Long before the modelling was completed, the late Prince Consort suggested the statuary should adorn the summit of the central arch at Hyde Park Corner, but this was abandoned as too high. Mr. Bull, chairman of the London County Council Bridges Committee, selected the site a few yards east of Westminster Bridge, and almost under the shadow of Big Ben.

Her late Majesty Queen Victoria, remembering the interest of the late Prince Consort took in the group, inspected the model and expressed her pleasure at the effect.

Inasmuch as the plaster-cast was valued at 10,000 pounds, the nation obtains a thing of beauty and joy for ever at a remarkably slight expense to the public purse.

Messrs. Singer are adept at producing gigantic bronzes, but the one under notice is the largest cast made for several years at their works, so charmingly situated amid the hills and trout streams of the West of England.

The Commentaries, Poetry, and Plays

With the exception of Tacitus, Gildas, Böece, and Vergil (translated from Latin) and Cassius Dio (Greek), all of the excerpts included in this book are presented as they were originally written, with editing only to provide narrative breaks and clarifications. Not only do these works tell us the story of Boudica, they also shed light on the development of the English language and should be appreciated for their manner of expression.

On the surface, the commentaries may appear to be repetitious; after all, Tacitus and Dio provided the basics for subsequent historians and writers, who also borrowed from each other. What makes these commentaries unique are the subtle differences in which the authors chose to present the material. Each of the commentaries corresponds to a particular time in English history and should be taken as a reflection of the attitudes and politics of the era. In a similar vein, the poetry included are also a product of their times yet utilize both history and performance as their guides.

The eight plays presented in this volume span a period of 332 years, beginning with John Fletcher’s Bonduca in 1609 and ending with Robert Raynolds’s Boadicea in 194l. Each play approaches the rebellion from a different viewpoint, and Boudica herself is seen as either a tragic heroine or a reckless savage unable to control her own troops, much less direct their common anger at the Roman invaders. It is often up to the men in these dramas to give perspective to the proceedings and to wax eloquently on issues of honor, friendship, and conquest. It was not until 1927 that Boudica took on a greater role in her own mythos and a greater role on the stage.

For example, John Fletcher’s play Bonduca really should have been called Caratach, as the queen makes only sporadic appearances and is hardly held in high regard by the other characters, a precursor to Milton’s contention that a woman had no business leading the rebellion. There has been speculation that Fletcher gave the lion’s share of the play to Caratach to showcase the talents of his lead actor Richard Burbage, and also as a possible backlash in British society against female rule, as England had long been under the leadership of Elizabeth I. This may explain the outright hostility Caratach shows not only to Bonduca, but to her daughters. First there is Caratach’s opinion of Boudica’s skills as a military commander:

Car. The woman fool! Why did you give the word

Unto the carts to charge down, and our people,

In gross before the enemy? We pay for’t;

Our own swords cut our throats! Why, pox on’t!

Why do you offer to command? The devil,

The devil, and his dam too! who bid you

Meddle in men’s affairs?

Bond. I’ll help all.

[Exeunt all but Caratach.

Car. Home,

Home and spin, woman, spin, go spin! you trifle.

Open before there, or all’s ruin’d—How?

[Shouts within.

Now comes the tempest on ourselves, by Heaven!

Within. Victoria!

Car. Oh, woman, scurvy woman, beastly woman!

Three scenes earlier, Caratach is disgusted that Boudica’s daughters would stoop to trickery to capture Roman officers:

Car. A woman’s wisdom in our triumphs? Out!

Out, out, ye sluts, ye follies! From our swords

Filch our revenges basely?—Arm again, gentlemen!—

Soldiers, I charge ye help ’em.

2 Daugh. By Heaven, uncle,

We will have vengeance for our rapes!

Car. By Heaven,

Ye should have kept your legs close then.—Dispatch there!

Boadicea, by Charles Hopkins (1697), is told entirely in verse and all but abandons the Tacitean narrative in favor of love and deception. Boadicea and Suetonius have negotiated a peace, and all is well. Cassibelan, Boadicea’s general, is in love with her daughter Camilla. Suetonius Paulinus is in love with the other daughter, Venutia. But Decius, co-general with Suetonius, covets Venutia for himself and singlehandedly dismantles the truce. In a curious turn of events worthy of alternative history, Suetonius offers to join forces with Boadicea, but in the end Boadicea and Camilla commit suicide, Cassibelan falls on his sword, and Suetonius and Venutia come together at last, presumably to reestablish peace on the island and live happily ever after.

Boadicia once again returns the queen to the background in Richard Glover’s 1751 production. This time the story concerns Dumnorix, the Trinobantian chief, and two Roman captives, Flaminius and Aenobarbus. All three spend considerable time speaking of honor between warriors, while Boadicia is portrayed as a frantic woman who is unsuccessfully debated in sparing the Roman’s lives while attempting to stave off what Dumnorix sees as a losing cause that will only bring more grief to the Britons. Boadicia dies offstage with nary a second thought, but with his own death Dumnorix is hailed by the Romans as a hero, just as Caratach was praised by the Romans in Bonduca.

In the twentieth century, Boudica is not only a tragic figure but a philosophical one, going so far as to meet with Suetonius to discuss Rome’s insatiable need to conquer in Laurence Binyon’s Boadicea (1927). Presented as a soldier who very clearly understands that Rome is capable of great evils, Paulinus nevertheless intends to carry out his orders:

Boadicea: Suetonius, I loved not ignorance.

I had no blind hate. Had I not eyes to see

The wonders of your world: what you could do,

Where we were helpless: how you made us seem

Beggars and simpletons with your inventions,

Your science and your arts? You seemed like Gods

Possessed of magic powers: so, like a child,

When I was young, I saw you. But I see

Now how you use those powers. I have been taught.

My husband was Rome’s friend, bequeathed his all,

Trusting Rome’s greatness. What reward was his?

I, a Queen, fresh from his grave, taken and scourged,

My daughter given to the last infamy,

Our land, our liberties wrenched vilely from us.

Are we brute beasts that you should treat us so?

Suetonius: Boadicea,

You have been wronged, and I am sorry for it.

Had I been there—but what is done is done.

Nations, like men, that do things in this world

Do often what they would not. It is easy

To escape an ill name sitting still. And Rome

Has many ministers, and some unworthy.

But Rome is something more than all her servants.

Though you were to destroy me and all my army

She is not one tittle less.

It is not the final battle, however, that brings about the queen’s downfall; rather, she becomes obsessed with a statue of Caesar, unable to fathom how a mere block of stone, with its lifeless and empty eyes, can command such loyalty and inspire men so far away from home. Ever the soldier, Suetonius praises the dead queen, but ends the play with allegiance to his emperor.

Robert Raynolds’s conception of Boadicea (1941) centers on the loss of one’s