culture of
Europeans, is turned by the magic of grant-giving into a kind of infrastructure for
particular central institutions whose main characteristic is that they seem to take
no notice at all of the easy flow of ideas that already exists between individuals
who disagree with them.
That is why we need to try to tell this
story straight. It is a way of thinking again about who we really are.
We have to get away from the raucous
seaside, the holiday place that Cecil Warburton knew; the North Sea is much more
than the water between a thousand beaches. It seems minor, it seems grey, but it has
a furious and brilliant history. We can start with the stones on the beach at
Domburg and ask: who brought them there and why, and what did they think they were
doing?
1.
The invention of money
The Roman army on manoeuvres: first century CE , on the North Sea coast, roughly where Belgium now stops and the
Netherlands starts. Plinius Secundus was one of the commanders, and when he came to
write his famous natural histories, he remembered what he had seen.
There were wide salt marshes and he saw no
trees at all. He could not make up his mind if he was on the land or on the sea. There
were houses built on hillocks and he thought they looked like ships in the water, or
maybe more like shipwrecks; he reckoned the houses must be built that way to escape the
worst daily surges of the tides. He sounds almost nervous in this strange marsh
landscape, being an inland Roman and used to having the ground stay firm under his
boots; now he was looking out at a landscape of shifting clay, all cut up with creeks
and gullies where the tides pushed salt water in and out. He might as well have left the
empire altogether because this coast was cut off from the mainland by lagoons and
brackish peat, as good a frontier as the forests that kept whole peoples apart, better
than any river. To reach the marshes, and the water people who lived there, you had to
know the marshes. You also had to be welcome, because you would be seen.
Pliny considered the water people and he
decided they were not worth the bother of conquering. Fish, he wrote, was all they
had. 1
Seven centuries later opinions had not much
changed. Radbodo, Bishop of Utrecht, was most uncharitable about the Frisians, the
people of these marshes: he wrote that they lived in water like fish and they rarely
went anywhere except by boat. They were also crude,barbarous and remote: sodden provincials. 2 And yet between the
writing of those two accounts the Frisians reinvented all the links and ties across the
North Sea, as far as Jutland at the northern tip of Denmark and even beyond. They
founded a new kind of town on the coast that thrived as the old Roman towns were in
decline. They made themselves a capital on the left bank of the Rhine at Dorestad, just
where the river divides to run down to its delta, which became the turntable of all
Northern trade. And they ruled the North Sea, dominating all the trade that went by
water, so for a time its name was changed: the Frisian Sea.
They did something else which helped to
shape our world: they reinvented money. They took coins with them on their trading
voyages, money for buying and selling and doing business. Other territories had run out
of cash, or lived off gifts and barter, or stopped using money for anything except tax
and politics, but the Frisians carried the idea of using money wherever they went. It
was not at all a trivial idea. With it came ideas of the value of things and how to
calculate that abstract value on paper – the value that objects in the real world share,
a pot with a pile of grain with a fish with a plank with a place in a boat going up the
Rhine, even when it seems obvious they have nothing else in common at all. The idea of
value had to work wherever the Frisians came ashore. Trading meant taking that value and
working with it,
David Sherman & Dan Cragg