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Title: Alfred the Great
containing chapters on his life and times
Editor: Alfred Bowker
Contributor: Alfred Austin
Walter Besant
G. F. Browne
John Earle
Frederic Harrison
W. J. Loftie
Sir Clements R. Markham
Charles Oman
Frederick Pollock
Release date: July 22, 2025 [eBook #76551]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Adam & Charles Black, 1899
Credits: MWS and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALFRED THE GREAT ***
ALFRED THE GREAT
[Illustration: KING ALFRED’S JEWEL]
[Illustration: BRITAIN IN TIME OF ALFRED]
Alfred the Great
CONTAINING
Chapters on his Life and Times
BY
MR. FREDERIC HARRISON, THE LORD BISHOP OF BRISTOL
PROFESSOR CHARLES OMAN, SIR CLEMENTS MARKHAM
THE REV. PROFESSOR EARLE, SIR FREDERICK POLLOCK
AND THE REV. W. J. LOFTIE; ALSO CONTAINING
AN INTRODUCTION BY SIR WALTER BESANT
AND A POEM BY THE POET LAUREATE
EDITED, WITH PREFACE, BY
ALFRED BOWKER
MAYOR OF WINCHESTER
1897-98
‘_This will I say—that I have sought to live worthily the while I lived,
and after my life to leave to the men that come after me
a remembering of me in good works._’
LONDON
ADAM & CHARLES BLACK
1899
TO
Her Majesty the Queen
BY GRACIOUS PERMISSION
THIS VOLUME
IS
DEDICATED
THE SPOTLESS KING
I
Some lights there be within the Heavenly Spheres
Yet unrevealed, the interspace so vast:
So through the distance of a thousand years
Alfred’s full radiance shines on us at last.
II
Star of the spotless fame, from far-off skies
Teaching this truth, too long not understood,
That only they are worthy who are wise,
And none are truly great that are not good.
III
Of valour, virtue, letters, learning, law,
Pattern and prince, His name will now abide,
Long as of conscience Rulers live in awe,
And love of country is their only pride.
IV
But with His name four other names attune,
Which from oblivion guardian Song may save;
Lone Athelney, victorious Ethandune,
Wantage his cradle, Winchester his grave.
ALFRED AUSTIN.
PREFACE
Now that we are fast approaching the one thousandth anniversary of the
death of our greatest sovereign of the past—“King Alfred,” whom it is
the laudable desire of many of Her Majesty’s subjects and others to
commemorate fittingly—this book, which bears the king’s name, and is
written in honour of the king, and is intended to present what is known
of the king’s achievements and his claim on the gratitude and love of the
English-speaking race, would hardly seem to demand a preface.
To some minds, however, this small book, if it appeared without a
word of preface, might seem insufficiently comprehensive; it may be
well, therefore, to explain shortly the motive for its production. The
International Committee organising this Commemoration have considered
it very advisable that a publication should be issued with a view to
diffusing, as widely as possible, public knowledge of the king’s life
and work. This being the sole object, it became essential that the book
should not be costly, but within the reach of all. Therefore it was
also necessary to restrict its scope; numerous subjects and possible
illustrations of interest have been left for a full and complete
biography of the great king.
At the same time, it is hoped that the chapters which follow will enable
the general reader to create in his own mind a figure, a mind, a history,
worthy of the king and equal to the occasion. The general introduction
is, in substance, the address delivered in the Guildhall of Winchester by
Sir Walter Besant at the first public meeting held to lay the foundation
stone of this Commemoration. The names of those who have contributed
chapters are a guarantee that the reader is in good hands; the subjects
of these chapters show a fairly complete division of the various lines in
which Alfred achieved greatness.
Whilst taking this opportunity of placing on record my very cordial
thanks to the contributors for their gifts, especially to Sir Walter
Besant, and to the Lord Bishop of Winchester for kindly advice, I feel
that my thanks alone would indeed be a poor requite; but our readers, of
whatever station, whether high or low, by assisting to the best of their
ability in the forthcoming Commemoration, which is veritably that of
one thousand years of many of our institutions, of our government, and
our national existence, will be expressing gratitude and thanks more
acceptable than words of mine can convey.
It may seem strange to some readers that by chance no full account
is given of Asser’s anecdote of the scene between the king and the
herdswoman in the Isle of Athelney, where he took refuge, but as the
story is known to all, its omission may perhaps be pardoned; it is
certainly not due to any lack of interest in the story, which seems
so strikingly to show that at times, maybe when the king was resting
or sitting by the fire mending his bows and weapons, he would become
absorbed in the one thought foremost in his mind—that of the welfare of
his country and people, then sorely harassed and oppressed by the Danes,
and so neglected the homely duty that was present.
I have, further, to draw the reader’s attention to the circular at
the end of the book, but it is not necessary for me to point out the
advisability, or to detail the many praiseworthy reasons, for the
erection of memorials to illustrious dead, stimulating and encouraging as
they are to succeeding generations, engendering patriotic sentiments, and
recalling to us the history of the past by which knowledge is weighed and
gained, and that from the lesson we learn almost unwittingly to shape and
guide our future steps.
In conclusion, I would express a hope that the following chapters will be
read far and wide with as much pleasure and profit as they have been by
myself, and that through their agency, and out of public subscription, we
may soon see rising in the heart of the capital of Wessex, worthy not of
England alone, but of the English-speaking race, a memorial to one who
may rightly be regarded as one of the principal founders of the English
nation and its language, a pioneer of improvement, liberty, learning and
education, and who, though a thousand years have sped, still forms a
mighty beacon of all the highest aims and the noblest aspirations that
may dominate the hearts of men.
A. B.
_1st May 1899._
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION, by Sir Walter Besant, F.S.A. 1
ALFRED AS KING, by Frederic Harrison, Hon. Fellow of Wadham
College, Oxford 39
ALFRED AS A RELIGIOUS MAN AND AN EDUCATIONALIST, by the Right
Rev. the Lord Bishop of Bristol 69
ALFRED AS A WARRIOR, by Charles Oman, M.A., F.S.A., Fellow of
All Souls, Oxford 115
ALFRED AS A GEOGRAPHER, by Sir Clements Markham, K.C.B., President
of the Royal Geographical Society 149
ALFRED AS A WRITER, by Rev. John Earle, Professor of Anglo-Saxon,
Oxford 169
ENGLISH LAW BEFORE THE NORMAN CONQUEST, by Sir Frederick Pollock,
Bart., Corpus Professor of Jurisprudence 207
ALFRED AND THE ARTS, by Rev. W. J. Loftie, F.S.A. 241
INDEX 259
INTRODUCTION
In writing an Introduction to the chapters which follow, I shall not be
expected to contribute any new facts to the life of the great king. As
for any new facts, the time has long gone by when anything new could be
discovered concerning the great king of whom I have to speak. The tale of
Alfred is a twice-told tale: but it is a tale that should be always fresh
and new, because at every point it concerns every successive generation
of English-speaking people. Happily it is not the whole life of Alfred
that we have to consider in this place: it is the example of that life:
the things that Alfred invented and achieved during that short life for
his own generation; things which have lasted to our own day, and still
bear fruit and golden sheaves. I should like to proceed at once to
those achievements, but it is absolutely necessary first that we should
understand some of the conditions of the time: the troubles and the
struggles: the overthrow and ruin with which Alfred’s reign began: the
apparent hopelessness of the situation changed by the unexpected uprising
of one man: and the rapid development of this man as Captain, Conqueror,
Administrator, and Teacher. This done, we shall be in a position to
receive the King as an example that should abide with the people still,
and should still continue to shape the lives and inspire the minds of his
race.
In order to prevent long explanations, and to illustrate at the outset
some of the conditions of England when Alfred was born into the world,
I have caused a small map to be drawn. You will see that the island is
divided up into many nations. There is first the Kingdom of Kent, founded
by the Jutes, who never extended themselves: then the Kingdom of Wessex
or of the West Saxons, who by this time had absorbed the Kingdom of Essex
or East Saxons, and of Sussex or South Saxons. The modern counties of
Norfolk and Suffolk form the Kingdom of East Anglia—founded by Angles,
a people closely allied to Jutes and Saxons: the middle of England is
Mercia, the Kingdom of the March or boundary—the Mercians were also
Angles. On the north is the Kingdom of Northumbria, also founded by
Angles. The West of England is wholly occupied by Strathclyde, Wales,
and Cornwall, all kingdoms of the Britons or Welsh who remained still
unconquered. In Scotland the Highlands were occupied by the Picts, and a
part of the west was peopled by the Scots who crossed over from Ireland.
The Angles therefore occupied the middle, the north, and the east; they
gave their own name to the whole country—Angle-land or England: the
Saxons occupied the south, with the exception of Kent: the Welsh still
held nearly the whole of the west: but their territories were separated
and cut into three parts. If we look backwards and forwards in history
during these centuries we shall find the map of our island constantly
changing. But still we may take this map fairly to represent the country
as it was in the time of Alfred—eight distinct nations in it: three
of them composed of Angles, who were not on that account allies: one
containing Jutes: one of Saxons: three of Welsh. These so-called nations
shifted their borders continually: they fought their neighbours: they
split up and fought each other: there was no coherence or stability among
them: some of them adopted Christianity and then relapsed: some of them
remained pagans.
These were the tribes or nations in the land.
Let us next consider what manner of men it was over whom Alfred was
called upon to rule. In order to get at this knowledge we must inquire
of their religion, their laws, and their customs. As for their religion,
before they became Christians, it was a fierce and cruel religion,
although it was full of imagination, as was to be expected of a people
in whose minds the noblest poetry was slumbering. There were Gods who
created and invented: Gods who gave life and inspired love: Gods who sent
the thunder and the storm: Gods who brought the spring and the sunshine,
the fruit, and the harvest. There were evil Gods—the Gods of Death, who
killed men: the Gods of Disease, who tortured men: the Gods of the Sea
and the River, who drowned men: the Gods of Battle, who struck men with
cowardice, and weighed down their hands so that they could not strike.
There were humbler deities—spirits of the stream, the woods, and the
hills—for the most part hostile to men and malignant, because in certain
stages of civilisation the unknown forces of Nature present themselves
as personal deities who are always hostile to man—according to the Greek
legend, for instance, he who met the great God Pan face to face fell down
dead. They believed in raising spirits and in spectres, much as some of
us do now: they believed in witches and in witchcraft: in magic and in
charms: in love philtres: in divination: in lucky days. In a word, the
Anglo-Saxon was full of the superstitions which belonged to his age.
There was, however—I venture to read between the lines—one saving
clause. The Anglo-Saxon was not only afraid of the unknown, which caused
him to invent malignant deities, but in his mind the God of Creation
was stronger than the God of Destruction. There is hope for a people
while that belief survives. Long after he became a Christian the Saxon
continued to retain his old beliefs under other names: he saw and
conversed in imagination with the old deities whom he had forsaken: they
spoke to him in the thunder: he saw their forms in the flying cloud,
in the splendour of the sunset: he heard their whispers in the woods:
they came to him in dreams. Religion, to the Anglo-Saxon, was a thing
more real, more present, than it has ever been to any people except
the Russian and the Jew. This is perhaps the most important point to
be observed in the character of Alfred’s people. They were profoundly
influenced by their religion. In the eighth century, when Christianity
was spread over the south and the middle of the country, all classes
began to long after the religious life as they understood it. Kings and
Queens—there were ten Kings and eleven Queens—Princes and Princesses,
nobles and freemen—all who could be received, crowded into the
monasteries: they were eager for the life of meditation and of prayer:
they made the cloisters rich: they filled the monastic houses with gold
and silver plate and rich treasure. When the Danish invasion began, the
Danes very soon found out that it was the monastery, and not the town,
which they should sack: and at the same time the people found out that
the full monastery meant the shrunken army. It has been said that the
Anglo-Saxon never changes. In this respect at least he has never changed.
Through all the changes and chances of a thousand years, wherever he has
penetrated, wherever he has settled, he has carried with him the same
earnestness and the same reality of religion.
We must also note, next to the earnestness of his religious belief,
the freedom of his institutions. The liberties of our race, which have
become to us like the very air we breathe, so that we are not even
conscious of them, were not wrested by the people from reluctant kings.
These liberties had always been with them from the prehistoric times
when the family was the unit, and when custom was the only kind of law.
Among their primitive customs were the first rude forms of their free
institutions. From the Forests of North Germany, from the mouth of the
Elbe, not from any king, came the right of free meeting: the right of
free speech: the right of free thought: the right of free work.
Next, as a people the Saxons were also fond of music, singing, poetry:
the quicker witted Norman despised the Saxon as slow of understanding.
Perhaps: but the Saxon proved himself in the long-run far more capable
of enthusiasm, of loyalty, of patriotism, of sacrifice, of all those
actions and emotions which spring from the imagination and produce
forces united and irresistible. Remember that the whole of our literature
is Anglo-Saxon; none of it is Norman. There is not one great Norman poet.
No Norman literature was produced on this our Anglo-Saxon soil.
The next characteristic of this people is less picturesque. They were
obstinate. Now obstinacy, if we think of it, is one of the most useful
and valuable qualities that can be planted in the breast of man. It has
many names: it is called by its friends firmness: under any name it is
the tenacious man who wins in the long-run.
They were essentially an outdoor people: they loved all manner of outdoor
sports: all classes were hunters, hawkers, fishers, trappers: the country
was full of creatures to hunt: there were in the forests wolves, bears,
wild bulls, and stags: they loved the free air of the open hillside:
and they hated towns. It was many years after their settlement in this
country before they ceased to feel the old terror of the magic which,
they thought, could be practised within the walls of a city.
As regards the Anglo-Saxon women, it is pleasant to learn that the very
same virtues which are now conspicuous in our own women of the present
day were conspicuous in them. She was, as Thomas Wright says, “An
attentive housewife: a tender companion: the comforter and consoler of
her husband and her family: the virtuous and noble matron.” In all ranks,
from the queen to the farmer’s wife, we find the lady of the household
attending to her household duties. They were more learned than the men:
they could recite and sing the poetry of their native bards: they were
skilful in playing the harp: and in embroidery and needlework of all
kinds the work of the Anglo-Saxon ladies was in demand all over Western
Europe.
The Anglo-Saxon, therefore, had many virtues. He had also, we must
confess, his faults, which were conspicuous as well as numerous. He
was slothful of mind: he was always ready to sink back to the ancient
seclusion of the village and the forest: he was conservative, and thought
the old ways would last for ever: he was a great drinker—in drinking,
except among the Danes, he had no equal: he would drink for days together
almost without stopping: even the priests did not escape the universal
vice: they were admonished by the bishops not to say mass unless they
were sober: his hospitality consisted chiefly in making the guests drunk.
The Saxons, again, have been charged with cruelty—certainly very terrible
things were done, but we cannot expect a people to be before their age:
it was a cruel age. Frenchman, Norman, Dane, Saxon: all alike were cruel
in their punishments: but these things belong to the time. Let us acquit
the people of Wessex of more than their share of the average cruelty. The
stories told of the Danes, for example, are almost incredible, whether
for the cruelty of the torture, or for the endurance of the victim.
When we say that the Anglo-Saxon was a free man, and governed by free
laws, we must not imagine him to be a Republican of the nineteenth
century. Nor must we conclude that the Anglo-Saxon was a democrat, as
we understand democracy. He had his king over him, to begin with: and
the king was not elected by the people from among themselves, as the
President of a Republic; he succeeded because he belonged to the Royal
blood. He was even allowed, long after they were Christians, to be
descended from the Gods: the people consented to his succession, but
they did not elect him. As king he had very large powers, and these were
undefined: men had not yet begun to question the Royal Prerogative: above
all, he was their captain: he led the army: he fought with the army.
In a word, the Anglo-Saxon of the ninth century was in essentials very
much like his descendant of the present day. He was religious: he was a
lover of order: he was a good fighting man: he was fond of outdoor sports
and occupations: he was tenacious of his freedom: he was imaginative,
poetical, and dreamy: he was fond of music: he was still full of the old
traditions and superstitions which ruled his life, long after he had
become a Christian. This is a general summary of his character. In one
virtue he was as yet wanting. We must not expect in him what we call the
national and patriotic sentiment. The man of Wessex was the enemy of the
man of Mercia: the north stood aloof from the south: there was no England
or Britain: there was only a large island divided among eight nations,
or ten nations, or five nations, according to the year of the Lord: some
of them spoke the same tongue: all the Angles, Jutes, and Saxons had
similar institutions: nevertheless they were enemies. You remember, two
hundred years later on, how London accepted the rule, first, of Cnut the
Dane: and, next, of William the Norman. Both of them were what we should
call foreigners. There was no such feeling then. To the Londoner it
mattered little whether his king was Mercian, Northumbrian, Saxon, Jute,
Dane, or Norman. London received kings from all these people. There was
not yet any feeling existing for the country as a whole. It was part of
the work of Alfred, unseen and unsuspected, to make it possible to weld
the different nations into one: to create little by little the love of
country in place of the old loyalty to the tribe.
Let us concede that Alfred fought, not for England, but for Wessex. In
doing so, it is true, he fought for all England, but perhaps without
his knowledge. In the same way David fought first for his own little
country—for Judea—and made it possible for his successor to create one
great country, of which Judea was the centre.
I have lingered a long time over the character of the people whom Alfred
was called upon to rule. Without this knowledge it is impossible to
understand what the king did and why he did it, and in what respects his
work is so truly remarkable and wonderful. Let us now pass on to the
history itself, and first, naturally, to the invasions of the Danes.
It was in the year 832—seventeen years before the birth of Alfred—that
the Danes first made their appearance on these shores. Their incursions
began and continued exactly in the same way as those of the Saxons
themselves 400 years before. They came over in their ships: they found
the north seas without defence: they found no fleets guarding the
island from the pirates, as of old: the people, ready to believe that
things would go on for ever unaltered, had actually abandoned their
ships; had lost the art of ship-building; and were no longer accustomed
to the sea. The Danish fleet swooped down upon the coast: harried the
country: murdered the people: sacked the monasteries and the churches,
and went away again. They found the coast, like the seas, defenceless:
the monastic houses had drained the country of the fighting nobles: the
warlike spirit of the people was wasting itself in petty tribal wars.
The Danes, until the old spirit returned, were far more than a match for
the Saxons. They appeared suddenly, without warning, now on the coast
of Kent: now on that of Dorsetshire: now at the mouth of the Parret, in
Somerset: now up the Thames: now at Southampton: they came in fleets of
a hundred and fifty ships, carrying each sixty or seventy warriors: an
army greater than anything that could be hastily got together against
them: by the time that an army was collected the Danes had gone, leaving
ruined churches: villages destroyed by fire: monasteries pillaged of
their treasures: and murdered monks lying beside the scattered relics,
which could not protect them. The Danes, their foray over, had gone off,
bearing their treasures with them, to their own country. Next year they
landed again: but on another part of the island.
This yearly invasion of the Danes lasted for twenty years. They always
made straight for the nearest monasteries, which they sacked: there were
not many towns in Saxon England; but there were some—Canterbury, London,
Southampton, York—they attacked these, seized, plundered, and left them
in ruins. For twenty years they came every year: sometimes we hear of a
victory over them: but still they came again: there was never a victory
so decisive as to keep them from returning in ever-increasing numbers.
Then they began to stay in the country: they left off going home in the
autumn: they established themselves in winter quarters, first on Sheppey
Island, then on the Isle of Thanet: then in Norfolk. Then they went
farther afield. In a word, they overran and conquered East Anglia: then
the Kingdom of Northumbria: then that of Mercia: then the united Kingdoms
of Wessex and Kent. It was at this crisis, when all the power of the
Danes was brought to bear against Wessex and Kent, Alfred succeeded to
the throne. His father and his four brothers, kings one after the other,
had spent their lives in vainly beating back hordes of the Danes, who
returned year after year. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle makes the best of
occasional victories, but the fact remains that every year the invaders
became stronger and the defenders became weaker. The King of Mercia at
last gave up the struggle and went to Rome, to adopt the religious life,
leaving his wife behind. Alfred might have done the same thing, and it
would not have been imputed unto him for cowardice, but for godliness.
Happily for England he did not. The Danes had seized Chippenham, in
Wiltshire, and made that place their stronghold and headquarters. From
Chippenham they sent out their light troops, moving rapidly here and
there, devastating and murdering. For nine long years, growing every
year weaker, Alfred fought them: in one year he fought nine battles. At
the end of that time he found himself deserted, save for a few faithful
followers: his country prostrate: everything in the hands of the enemy:
his cause lost, and apparently no loop-hole or glimmer of hope left of
recovery. No darker or more gloomy time ever fell upon this country.
Everywhere the churches and the monasteries were pillaged and destroyed.
All those—bishops, priests, monks, and nuns—who could get away had
fled, carrying with them such of their treasures as they could convey.
The towns were in ruins: the farms were deserted: the people had lost
hope and heart: they bowed their heads and entered into slavery: their
religion was destroyed with the flight or the murder of their priests.
Their arts, their learning, their civilisation, all that they had once
possessed, were destroyed in those nine years’ warfare: destroyed and
gone—it seemed for ever. And the king, with his wife and her sister, and
his children, and the few who still remained with him, had taken refuge
on a little hill rising out of a broad marsh, whither the enemy could not
follow him.
In the after years Alfred was fond of talking over this time of
desolation: he would recall the visions that came to him, and not only
to him but to his wife as well: they both saw visions of consolation and
of promise. Saint Cuthbert himself stood beside his bed and comforted
him with promise of victory and honour. We can very well believe the
vision. To Alfred: to his wife: the aid of the Saints was a thing to be
invoked and to be looked for. Did they not pray daily for the help of
the Saints? And who should aid the Saxons in their trouble but their
greatest Saint—Cuthbert himself? In the sleep or the waking of night,
what more natural than that Alfred should imagine that he saw and spoke
with the Saint himself? To those who drive or walk across the dreary
level of Sedgemoor, now drained by its deep dykes, and dotted with its
village churches, there rises on the right hand the low hill of Athelney.
One can realise, looking upon this hill across the flat land, which was
once covered with bogs and quagmires, and reeds bending before the wind,
how complete was the defeat of the king: how complete the victory of
the Danes; which should drive Alfred to seek such a refuge. The Danish
Conquest, like the Norman Conquest two hundred years later, seemed an
achievement accomplished. No further opposition: no one asked what had
become of Alfred—he had run away to Rome: he had gone into a monastery,
perhaps: everywhere the Danes all over the country reported submission
and the acceptance of their rule. And the old gods had come back again,
Woden, and Thor, and Friga, and the rest: and again the fires flamed upon
the high places, and the children were passed through them, and all the
Christian saints had fled.
Alfred remained inactive during the whole long winter. It was the rule of
the old Kriegs Spiel, the war game of that time, that the armies should
not go forth to fight in winter. The men would have refused to go out in
the cold season. In fact, they could not. The country was covered with
uncleared forests: the roads in winter were deep tracks of mud: it was
impossible for the men to sleep on the cold, wet ground. The delay suited
Alfred: he wanted time to organise a rising in force: he sent messengers
to the Somersetshire people, among whom, in winter quarters, were lying
few or none of the Danish conquerors: he bade them make ready for the
spring: he ordered those of the thanes who were still left to come to him
at Athelney: and in May, when the spring arrived, Alfred appeared once
more as one risen from the dead: once more he raised the Wessex standard
of the Golden Dragon: once more the people, taking renewed courage,
flocked together: as he marched along they joined him, the fugitives
from the woods and those who had been made slaves in their own farms, and
swelled his force.
What follows is like a dream. Or it is like the uprising of the French
under Joan of Arc. There had been nine years of continuous defeat.
The people had lost heart: they had apparently given in. Yet, on the
reappearance of their king, they sprang to arms once more: they followed
him with one consent, and on the first encounter with the Danes they
inflicted upon them a defeat so crushing that they never rallied again.
In one battle, on one field, the country was recovered. In a single
fortnight after this battle the Danes were turned out of Wessex. Alfred
had recovered the whole of his own country, and acquired in addition a
large part of Mercia.
It is significant to read that the Danish chieftain became a Christian,
and was baptized. Do you suppose that he weighed the arguments and
listened to the history and the doctrines of the new religion? Not at
all. He perceived—this logical pagan—that King Alfred’s Gods had shown
their superiority over his own in a manner so unexpected, so amazing,
and so decisive, that he hesitated no longer. He acknowledged that
superiority; he was baptized, and he never afterwards relapsed.
Alfred had got back his kingdom. It remained for him to recover it in
a fuller and a larger sense: to restore its former prosperity and its
ancient strength.
He began by recognising the separate rights of the Mercians. He would
not call himself King of Mercia. He placed his son-in-law Ethelred as
Earl of Mercia, and because London was at that time considered a Mercian
city, Ethelred took up his residence there as soon as the Danes had gone
out. The condition of London was as desolate and as ruinous as that of
the whole country. The walls were falling down: there was no trade: there
were no ships in the river: no merchandise on the wharves: there were
no people in the streets, save the Danish soldiers and the slaves who
worked for them. Alfred restored the walls: rebuilt the gates: brought
back trade and merchants: repaired the Bridge, and made London once
more the most important city of his kingdom: its strongest defence: its
most valuable possession. This was, in fact, the third foundation of
London. If Alfred had failed to understand the importance of London—that
great port, happily placed, not on the coast open to attack, but a long
way up a tidal river, in the very heart of the country—a place easy of
access from every part of the kingdom—a port convenient for every kind
of trade, whether from the Baltic or the Mediterranean—the whole of the
commercial history of England would have been changed, the island might
have remained what it had been for centuries before the Roman Conquest, a
place which exported iron, tin, skins, wool, and slaves, and imported for
the most part weapons to kill each other with.
Alfred gave us London. The lesson of ten years’ fighting taught Alfred
what the Saxons had never before understood, the value of walled cities
in the case of invasion. He saw—he was the first to perceive—how superior
numbers may be rendered of no avail when they fling themselves against
strong walls. The next Danish invaders found themselves stopped on their
way up the Thames by a city fortified by a strong wall which the enemy
could neither knock down nor climb over: and manned by citizens made
doubly courageous by the safety and the strength of their ramparts.
Six separate sieges were endured by London during the second invasion
of the Danes: six separate times the enemy had to raise the siege and
to go elsewhere, leaving London unconquered. Other walled towns were
added—Winchester, York, Exeter, and Canterbury—but the first was London,
whose fallen Roman wall, of which only the hard core of cement remained,
Alfred rebuilt and faced again with stone.
Alfred, I repeat, gave us London. This was a great service which he
rendered to the safety of the country. But there was still a greater
service. The Saxon had quite forgotten the seamanship in which he had
formerly known no master and no equal. Alfred saw that for the sake of
safety there must be a first line of defence before the coast could be
reached. England could only be invaded in ships, and by those who had
the command of the seas. Therefore, he created a navy: he built ships
longer, heavier, swifter than those of the Danes, and he sent these ships
out to meet the Danes on what they supposed to be their own element.
They went out: they met the Danes: they defeated them: and before long
the Saxons had afloat a fleet of a hundred ships to hold the mastery of
the Channel. The history of the English navy is chequered: there have
been periods when its pretensions were low and its achievements humble:
but since the days of Alfred the conviction has never been lost that
the safety of England lies in her command of the sea. Fortresses and
walled cities are useful: it is a very great achievement to have given
them to the country: London alone, restored by Alfred, was the nation’s
stronghold, the nation’s treasure house, a city full of wealth, filled
with valiant citizens, unconquered and defiant: that was a very great
gift to the country: but it was a greater achievement still to have given
to the country a fleet which was ready to meet the enemy before they had
time to land, and to give them most excellent reasons why they should not
land: to make the people understand that above all things, and before
all, it was necessary for all time to keep the mastery of the seas.
Remember, therefore, that Alfred, thus, gave us the command of the seas.
As Rudyard Kipling, our patriot poet, says:
We have fed our seas for a thousand years,
And she calls us, still unfed,
Though there’s never a wave of all her waves
But marks our English dead.
“Never a wave of all her waves”—and it was Alfred who first sent out the
English blood to redden those waves in defence of hearth and home.
Now, there can be no doubt that if he had advanced upon the great defeat
of the Danes he might have recovered the whole of the country and become
not only its overlord, as his grandfather Egbert had been before him,
but its king. No doubt he was tempted: to a successful commander more
successes always lie before him waiting to be snatched. This dream of
conquest he renounced. He sat down with what he had—the old kingdom of
his forefathers, strengthened by his new fleet: by the stronghold of
London: and by the restored courage and self-respect of his people. The
dream of conquest was a dream of personal ambition: he put it aside.
It was part of that renunciation of self which belongs to the whole of
his career. The historian Green has pointed out that Alfred “is the only
instance in the history of Christendom of a ruler who put aside every
personal aim or ambition in order to devote himself wholly to the welfare
of those whom he ruled.”
We have considered Alfred as a captain, a conqueror, and the founder
of our navy. We will now consider him in the capacity of king,
administrator, and law-giver.
I do not claim for Alfred that he was the creator of the English law.
His glory consists mainly in his adaptation of the old order to the
new: he took all that was left of the shattered past and moulded it
anew, with additions to suit the new situation, and for the most part
on the same lines. You will ask, perhaps, how much of the honour due
to Alfred’s achievements should be given to his ministers and how much
to himself? Assign to his officers all the credit possible, all that
belongs to the faithful discharge of duty: still the initiative, the
design of the whole of the past, is absolutely due to Alfred himself. He
must not be considered as a modern king—the modern king reigns while the
people rule: he was the king who ruled: his will ruled the land: he had
his Parliament: his Meeting of the Wise: but his will ruled them: he
appointed his earls or aldermen: his will ruled them: he had his bishops:
his will ruled them. From the time when he began to address himself to
the organisation of a strong nation—that is to say, from the time when
the Dane was baptized, his will ruled supreme. No law existed then to
limit the king’s prerogative. The king was imperator, commander of the
army, and every man in the country was his soldier.
Among the monuments of his reign there stands out pre-eminent his code
of laws. He did not, I say, originate or invent his code. He simply took
the old code and rewrote it, with additions and alterations to suit
the altered conditions of the time. He understood, in fact, the great
truth, which law-makers hardly ever grasp, that successful institutions
must be _the outcome of national character_. Now, the laws and customs
of these nations—Saxons, Angles, and Jutes—were similar, but there were
differences. They had grown with the people, and were the outcome of the
national character. Alfred took over as the foundation of his work for
Wessex the code compiled for the West Saxons by his ancestor, King Ina:
for Mercia, that compiled by Offa, King of Mercia: for the Jutes, that
compiled by Ethelbert, King of Kent. In his work two main principles
guided the law-giver: first, that justice should be provided for every
one, high and low, rich and poor: next, that the Christian religion
should be recognised as containing the Law of God: which must be the
basis of all laws. Both these principles were especially necessary to
be observed at this time. The devastation of the long wars had caused
justice to be neglected: and the destruction of the churches, and the
murder or flight of the clergy, had caused the people to relapse into
their old superstitions.
King Alfred then boldly began his code by reciting the Laws of God. His
opening words were: “Thus saith the Lord, ‘I am the Lord thy God.’”
That is his keynote. The laws of a people must conform with the Laws of
God. If they are contrary to the spirit of these laws they cannot be
righteous laws. In order that every one might himself compare his laws
with the Laws of God, he prefaced his laws first by the Ten Commandments;
after this he quoted at length certain chapters of the Mosaic Law. These
chapters he followed by the short epistle in the Acts of the Apostles
concerning what should be expected and demanded of Christians. Finally,
Alfred adds the precept from St. Matthew, “Whatsoever ye would that men
should do to you, do ye even so to them.”
[Illustration: THE SEASONS—JANUARY TO MARCH
(_Cottonian Library_)]
Some writers have assumed that Alfred required of his subjects by this
preamble that they should be governed in all the details of life by the
Mosaic Law. This view I cannot accept. Alfred set forth, I think, these
laws in order that his own might be compared with them where comparison
was possible, and in order to challenge comparison and to give the
greater weight to his own laws by showing that they were based in spirit
and, _mutatis mutandis_, on the Levitical Law and on the Law of the
Gospel.
Moreover, in order to connect the whole system of justice with religion,
in order to teach the people in the most efficacious manner possible that
the Church desires justice above all things, he added to the sentence of
the judge the penance of the Church. This subjection of the law to the
Church would seem intolerable to us. At that time it was necessary to
make a rude, ignorant, and violent people understand that religion must
be more than a creed: that it must have a practical and restraining side;
a man who was made to understand that an offence against the law was an
offence against the Church which would be punished by the latter as well
as by the secular judge, was made for the first time to feel the reality
of the Church.
This firm determination to link the Divine Law and the Human Law: this
firm reliance on the Divine Law as the foundation of all law: is to me
the most characteristic point in the whole of Alfred’s work. The view—the
intention—the purpose of King Alfred are summed up, without intention,
by the poet whom I have already quoted. The following words of Rudyard
Kipling might be the very words of Alfred: they breathe his very
spirit—they might be, I say, the very words spoken by Alfred:
Keep ye the law: be swift in all obedience—
Clear the land of evil: drive the road and bridge the ford.
Make ye sure to each his own
That he reap where he hath sown:
By the Peace among our Peoples let men know we serve the Lord!
Alfred endeavoured to rebuild the monasteries. He then made the discovery
that the old passion for the monastic life was gone: he could get no one
to go into them. Forty years of a life and death struggle had killed the
desire for the cloister: the people had learned to love action better
than seclusion—their ideal was now the soldier, not the monk. A great
gain for the people, which never afterwards returned to its ancient love
of the Rule and the Hood.
His chief design in rebuilding the monasteries was to restore the
schools. The country had fallen so low in learning that there was hardly
a single priest who could translate the Church Service into Saxon, or
could understand the words he sang. Alfred sent abroad for scholars:
he made his Religious House not only a place for the retreat of pious
men and women, but also the home—the only possible home—of learning,
and the seat of schools. It is long since we have regarded a monastery
as a seat of learning, or the proper place for a school. Go back to
Alfred’s time and consider what a monastery meant in a land still full
of violence: in which morals had been lost: justice trampled down:
learning destroyed: no schools or teachers left: the monastery stood as
an example and a reminder of self-restraint: peace: and order: a life of
industry and such works as the most ignorant must acknowledge to be good:
where the poor and the sick were received and cared for: the young were
taught: and the old sheltered. It was the Life which the monastery Rule
professed; the aim rather than any lower standards accepted by the monks:
which made a monastery in that age like a beacon steadily and brightly
burning, so that the people had always before their eyes a reminder of
the self-governed life. Most of us would be very unwilling to see the
monastery again become a necessity of the national life: yet we must
admit that in the ninth century Alfred had no more powerful weapon for
the maintenance of a religious standard than the monastery.
In the cause of education, indeed, Alfred was before his age, and even
before our age. He desired universal education. At his Court he provided
instructors for his children and the children of the nobles. They learned
to read and write, they studied their own language and its poetry: they
learned Latin: and they learned what were called the “liberal sciences,”
among them the art of music. But he thought also of the poorer class.
“My desire,” he says, “is that all the freeborn youths of my people
may persevere in learning until they can perfectly read the English
Scriptures.” Unhappily he was unable to carry out this wish. Only in
our own days has been at last attempted the dream of the Saxon King—the
extension of education to the whole people.
One more aspect of Alfred’s foresight. He endeavoured to remove the
separation of his island from the rest of the world: he connected his
people with the civilisation of Western Europe by encouraging scholars
and men of learning, workers in gold, and craftsmen of all kinds, to
come over: he created commercial relations with foreign countries: a
merchant who made three voyages to the Mediterranean he ennobled: he
sent an embassy every year to Rome: he sent an embassy as far as India:
he brought to bear upon the somewhat sluggish minds of his people the
imagination and the curiosity which would hereafter engender a spirit of
enterprise to which no other nation can offer a parallel.
It was partly with this view that he strongly enforced the connection
with Rome. One bond of union the nations of the West should have—a common
Faith: and that defined and interpreted for them by the same authority.
Had it not been for that central authority the nations would have been
divided, rather than drawn towards each other, by a Christianity split up
into at least as many sects as there were languages. Imagine the evil, in
an ignorant time, of fifty nations, each swearing by its own creed, and
every creed different. From this danger Alfred kept his country free.
The last, not the least, of his achievements is that to Alfred we owe
the foundations of our literature: the most noble literature that the
world has ever seen. He collected and preserved the poetry based on
the traditions and legends brought from the German Forests. He himself
delighted to hear and to repeat these legends and traditions: the deeds
of the mighty warriors who fought with monsters, dragons, wild boars,
and huge serpents. He made his children learn their songs: he had them
sung in his Court. The tradition goes that he could himself sing them to
the music of his own harp. This wild and spontaneous poetry which Alfred
preserved is the beginning of our own noble choir of poets. In other
words, the foundation of that stately Palace of Literature, built up by
our poets and writers for the admiration and instruction and consolation
of mankind, was laid by Alfred. Well, but he did more than collect the
poetry, he began the prose. Before Alfred there was no Anglo-Saxon prose.
I have already quoted Green’s remark that in everything that Alfred
designed or accomplished he put aside every personal aim or ambition
in order to devote himself wholly to the welfare of those over whom he
ruled. In his capacity as author this remark is specially illustrated.
You all know that it is the leading characteristic—or the infirmity—of
the poet, author, writer, to consider himself as part of his message.
Alfred put himself aside: he presented his works in translations:
they were, indeed, translations: but embellished, altered, enriched
by his own work thus modestly presented. There is one book, now quite
neglected, which for a thousand years profoundly moved the world of
Western Europe. It is a book, written in prison by a noble Roman named
Boethius, a philosopher, soldier, poet, and mathematician. It is entitled
the _Consolation of Philosophy_. Fortunately the author, who wrote it
from a prison, had time to finish it before they executed him. This
book Alfred translated or imitated. For he filled his translations with
his own thoughts and his own judgments. He gives his own theories of
government: of the duties of a king: of maintaining the population, and
especially the proper proportion of the different classes required to
keep the nation in a state of efficiency. Every man in the country is a
weapon which may be—and should be—used for the advancement of the general
welfare. It is the king’s duty to select the best instruments, and to
use them to the best advantage. We even find brief notes of his own
thoughts. “This,” says the king, among these notes, “I can now truly say,
that so long as I have lived I have striven to live worthily, and after
my death to leave my memory to my descendants in good works.”
It is not the part of this Introduction to dwell upon the whole of
Alfred’s literary work. It is enough if we recognise that he introduced
education and restored learning. In the course of time, innumerable books
were attributed to him: it is said that he translated the Psalms. A book
of proverbs and sayings is attributed to him—each one begins with the
words “Thus said Alfred.” The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and contemporary
record of events is said to have been commenced by him. And since it
is certain from the life of the king by one of his own Court that he
was regarded by all classes of his people with the utmost reverence and
respect, I think it is extremely likely that some of his people listened
and took down in writing the sayings of the king, so that the book of
Alfred’s sayings may be as authentic as the sayings of Dr. Johnson,
recorded by his admirer Boswell.
There is next to be observed the permanence of Alfred’s institutions.
They do not perish, but remain. His Witenagemot—Meeting of the Wise—is
our Parliament—it has developed into our many Parliaments. His order
of King, Thane, and Freeman is our order of King, Lords, and Commons.
His theory of education was carried out in some of the towns, and in all
the monasteries and cathedrals: there are schools still existing which
owe their origin to a period before the Norman Conquest. His foundation
of all law upon the Laws of God remains our own: his liberties are our
liberties: his navy is the ancestor of our navy: the literature which
he planted has grown into a goodly tree—the Monarch of the Forest: the
foreign trade that he began is the forerunner of our foreign trade: it
would seem as if there was hardly any point in which we have reason to be
grateful or proud which was not foreseen by this wise king.
To look for the secret of his wisdom is like looking for the secret
of making a great poem or writing a great play: it may be arrived
at and described, but it is not therefore the easier of imitation.
Alfred’s secret is quite simple. _His work was permanent because it was
established on the national character._ It was in order to make this
point clear that I dwelt at length on the character of the people over
whom Alfred ruled. He knew their character, and by instinct, which we
call genius, he gave his people the laws and the education, and the power
of development for which they were fitted. No other laws, no other kind
of government, will enable a people to prosper except those laws to
which they have grown and are adapted. Only those institutions, I repeat,
are permanent which are based on the national character. That was the
secret of King Alfred the law-giver.
It may be asked, what manner of man to look at was this great king? His
biographer, Asser, who knew him well, has not thought fit to tell us. He
only says in words of flattery that Alfred was more comely and gracious
of aspect than his brothers. These brothers, four in number, were all
kings before him, and all died young. Alfred himself was afflicted by a
disease which never left him. It is therefore presumable that there was
some congenital weakness in them all. This was not physical weakness:
whatever the disease, it did not interfere with Alfred’s courage or
his prowess in battle. This is proved by the fact that the Saxon kings
actually fought in person in the forefront of the battle, and on foot.
Alfred, for instance, fought in a dozen battles at least, and always with
the valour that belongs to a strong man. I take him to have been a man
of good stature and of strong build: a man whose appearance was kingly:
who impressed his followers with the gallant and confident carriage of a
brave soldier. But as to his face, or the colour of his hair or eyes, I
can tell nothing. Fair hair he had, I think, and blue eyes: or the more
common type of brown hair and gray eyes. When a king resigns all personal
ambitions and seeks nothing for himself, it seems natural and fitting
that, while his works live after him, he himself should vanish without
leaving so much as a tradition of his face or figure.
From time to time in history—generally in some time of great doubt and
trouble: or in some time when the old ideals are in danger of being
forgotten: or in some time when the nation seems losing the sense of duty
and of responsibility: there appears one, man or woman, who restores
the better spirit of the people by his example: by his preaching: by
his self-sacrifice: by his martyrdom. He is the prophet as priest: the
prophet as king: the prophet as law-giver. There passes in imagination
before us a splendid procession of men and women who have thus restored a
nation or raised the fallen ideals. Among them we recognise many faces:
there are Savonarola: Francis of Assisi: Joan of Arc: our own Queen
Elizabeth, greatest and strongest of all women: the Czar Peter. But the
greatest figure of them all—the most noble—the most god-like—is that of
the ninth-century Alfred, king of that little country which you have upon
your map. There is none like Alfred in the whole page of history: none
with a record altogether so blameless: none so wise: none so human.
We have allowed the memory of him to be too much forgotten: only here
and there a historian—such as Freeman or Green—lifts up his voice and
proclaims aloud that he has no words with which to speak adequately of
this great Englishman. Perhaps the noble lines of Tennyson, written for
another prince whose memory is dear to us all, may be referred to Alfred:
Who reverenced his conscience as his king;
Whose glory was, redressing human wrong;
Who spake no slander, no, nor listen’d to it;
Who loved one only and who clave to her—
We know him now: we see him as he moved:
How modest, kindly, all-accomplish’d, wise,
With what sublime repression of himself;
Not making his high place the lawless perch
Of wing’d ambitions, nor a vantage-ground
For pleasure; but thro’ all this tract of years
Wearing the white flower of a blameless life.
It is the purpose—the wise and patriotic purpose—of certain persons to
erect, for these and other reasons, a monument, visible to all, to the
memory of King Alfred.
Some of the points which I have recalled in this paper may help to show
why such a monument would have been fitting at any time during the last
thousand years. There is, however, a special reason which makes the
erection of such a monument very necessary—I use the word necessary
advisedly—at the present time. In the year 1897—on that memorable day
when we were all drunk with the visible glory and the greatness of the
Empire—there arose in the minds of many a feeling that we ought to teach
the people the meaning of what we saw set forth in that procession—the
meaning of our Empire—not only what it is, but how it came—through
whose creation—by whose foundation. Now so much is Alfred the Founder
that every ship in our Navy might have his name—every school his bust:
every Guildhall his statue. He is everywhere. But he is invisible. And
the people do not know him. The boys do not learn about him. There is
nothing to show him. We want a monument to Alfred, if only to make the
people learn and remember the origin of our Empire—if only that his
noble example may be kept before us, to stimulate and to inspire and to
encourage.
It seems unnecessary to urge that a monument to Alfred must be set up
in Winchester, and not in London or in Westminster, or anywhere else.
Here lies the dust of the kings his ancestors, and of the kings his
successors. Thirty-five of his line made Winchester their capital: twenty
were buried in the Cathedral. In this city Alfred received instruction
from St. Swithin: the city was already old and venerable when Alfred
was a boy. He was buried first in the Cathedral, and afterwards in the
Abbey, which he himself founded, hard by. The name of Alfred’s country,
well-nigh forgotten, except by scholars, has been revived of late years
by a Wessex man—Thomas Hardy. But the name of Alfred’s capital continues
in the venerable and historic city of Winchester, which yields to none in
England for the monuments and the memories of the past.
I venture, lastly, to express my own personal hope that great as were
the achievements of Alfred—the keynote to be struck and to be maintained
will be that Alfred is, and will always remain, the typical man of our
race—call him Anglo-Saxon, call him American, call him Englishman, call
him Australian—the typical man of our race at his best and noblest. I
like to think that the face of the Anglo-Saxon at his best and noblest
is the face of Alfred. I am quite sure and certain that the mind of the
Anglo-Saxon at his best and noblest is the mind of Alfred: that the
aspirations, the hopes, the standards of the Anglo-Saxon at his best and
noblest are the aspirations, the hopes, the standards of Alfred. He is
truly our Leader, our Founder, our King. When our monument takes shape
and form let it somehow recognise this great, this cardinal fact. Let
it show somehow by the example of Alfred the Anglo-Saxon at his best
and noblest—here within the circle of the narrow seas, or across the
ocean; wherever King Alfred’s language is spoken; wherever King Alfred’s
laws prevail; into whatever fair lands of the wide world King Alfred’s
descendants have penetrated.
WALTER BESANT.
ALFRED AS KING
BY FREDERIC HARRISON
ALFRED AS KING
It is a commonplace with historians—and with the historians of many
countries and different schools of opinion—that our English Alfred was
the only perfect man of action recorded in history; for Aurelius was
occasionally too much of the philosopher; Saint Louis usually too much
of the saint; Godfrey too much of the Crusader; the great Emperors were
not saints at all; and of all more modern heroes we know too much to
pretend that they were perfect. Of all the hyperboles of praise there is
but one that we can safely justify with the strictest canons of historic
research. Of all the names in history there is only our English Alfred
whose record is without stain and without weakness—who is equally amongst
the greatest of men in genius, in magnanimity, in valour, in moral
purity, in intellectual force, in practical wisdom, and in beauty of
soul. In his recorded career from infancy to death, we can find no single
trait that is not noble and suggestive, nor a single act or word that
can be counted as a flaw.
In the history of modern Europe there is nothing which can compare in
duration and in organic continuity with the unbroken evolution of our
English nation. And now that the royal house of France has passed from
the sphere of political realities into that of historic memories, there
is no dynasty in Europe which can be named in the same breath with that
which has seen a succession of forty-nine sovereigns since Alfred; nor
has any King or Cæsar a record of ancestry which can compare with that
of the royal Lady who through thirty-two generations traces her lineal
descent to the Hero-King of Wessex.
We have long given up the venerable fables which once gathered round the
name of Alfred, as round Romulus, or Theseus, King Arthur, or the Cid.
Every schoolboy knows that Alfred was not formally King of all England;
nor did he introduce trial by jury, or electoral institutions; he did
not found the University of Oxford; nor write all the pieces which are
attributed to his pen; he was perhaps too practical a man to let his
own supper get burnt on the hearth; and too wary a general to go about
masquerading with a harp in the enemy’s camp. But the historic Alfred
whom we know to-day is a personage more splendid and lifelike than the
legendary Alfred ever was. Though much of what our grandsires believed
about Alfred is now known to be poetry and pious fraud, the traditional
Alfred was quite just in general effect, and modern research has given us
a portrait both nobler and more definite than that drawn by the patriotic
imagination of a less critical age. Patriotic imagination itself falls
far short of scrupulous scholarship when it seeks to draw the likeness of
a real hero.
It is true that the field of Alfred’s achievements was relatively small,
and the whole scale of his career was modest indeed when compared with
that of his imperial compeers. He inherited a kingdom which covered
only a few English counties, and at one time his realm was reduced to a
smaller area than that of some private landlords of modern times. Beside
the great Emperor Charles, or the German Ottos, Henrys, and Fredericks of
the Middle Ages, his dominions, his resources, his armies, his battles,
his fleets, his administrative machinery, his contemporary glory—all
these were almost in miniature—hardly a tithe of theirs. But, we should
remember, it is _quality_ not _quantity_ that weighs in the impartial
scales of History. True human greatness needs no vast territories as its
stage—nor do multitudes add to its power. That which tells in the end is
the living seed of the creative mind, the heroic example, the sovereign
gift of leadership, the undying inspiration of genius and faith.
Turn to the _Chronicle_ and to Asser’s _Life_, with recent historians and
scholars, and mark those miracles of patience, valour, indomitable energy
by which the great king rescued from the savage Norsemen the England
of our forefathers. Watch him as he returns to the charge after every
repulse, rallies his exhausted men, gathers up new armies, plans fresh
methods of war, and at last wins for his people prosperity, honour, and
peace. The scale of these campaigns was narrow—the armies were small—not
indeed weaker than were the Greeks at Thermopylae and Marathon; but the
annals of war have nothing grander than the long record of sagacious
heroism by which Alfred saved England for the English. Then note the
genius with which he saw that the Norsemen must be met on the sea, with
which he organised a navy of ships built on a new design of his own.
Alfred is not only the forerunner of Marlborough and Wellington, but he
was the first to teach the Saxon to be a seaman.
A fine land that had once known prosperity, and even culture, lay
utterly ruined and desolate when Alfred undertook the vast task of its
restoration—its material, moral, intellectual reform. He said in his
Will, “we were all despoiled by the Heathen Folk.” He found the enemy in
possession of something like a standing army of disciplined soldiers; and
we should note how the _Chronicle_ calls the Norsemen “the army.” He met
this by instituting a regular militia with local garrisons and a reserve
force capable of systematic war. When Alfred marshals a new campaign we
find that the era of wild raids to be met by casual musters of countrymen
is a thing of the past. Alfred at last has his “army” too. We are dealing
with regular armies capable of sustaining organised campaigns.
A navy needed to be created and not simply reformed. And the safety of
the southern shores of England—the first command of the Channel—must be
dated from the day when Alfred began the formation of an adequate fleet.
It is true that in the absence of competent seamen in Wessex, he had to
man his earliest ships with Frisians from over the sea. But in later
years he came to have a really English fleet of his own. And it is plain
that in a true sense he is the inventor, but not the actual founder, of a
national navy: of that sea-power which is the birthright of this island.
When Alfred was chosen king, “almost against his will,” we are told, the
prospect was one to appal the stoutest heart. In his boyhood the Northmen
had begun to winter in Kent, had taken Canterbury and London by storm,
and pushed up the Thames. A few years later they stormed Winchester
and ravaged Kent. In the reign of his brother, Ethelred, they stormed
York, and invaded Mercia, whose king, Burhred, had married Alfred’s
sister. They next laid waste East Anglia, martyred its king, Edmund,
and threatened Wessex. The Danes (as they were now known) sailed up the
Thames, and formed a camp round Reading. In a fierce battle at Ashdown a
victory had been won for the moment by the energy and valour of Alfred;
but defeats followed, Surrey was lost, and Ethelred died, it is supposed
of his wounds.
The young king of twenty-two came to the throne of his ancestors in a
dark hour. The supremacy of Wessex in England, won by his grandfather,
Egbert, had vanished. Northumbria, Mercia, East Anglia, and parts
of Wessex had been desolated; the abbeys had been sacked, the monks
murdered, the churches, schools, and homesteads ruined. The Danish
invaders were masters of all Northern, Eastern, and Central England,
and the heart of Wessex was open to assault. The young king met them at
Wilton with a small force, but after a stubborn fight was beaten off. He
was forced to purchase a precarious truce.
In this year, 871, the _Chronicle_ relates (in its grim, laconic style),
the [Danish] army came to Reading, and three nights after, the Alderman
Ethelwulf fought them. Four nights after this, Ethelred and Alfred led
a large force to Reading, and “there was great slaughter on both sides;
the Alderman Ethelwulf was slain, and the Danes held possession of
the battle place.” “And four nights after, Ethelred and Alfred fought
with all the army at Ashdown”; many thousands were slain; “and they
were fighting until night.” And fourteen nights after, King Ethelred
and Alfred his brother fought against the army at Basing, and there
the Danes gained the victory. “And two months after, King Ethelred and
Alfred his brother fought against the army at Merton ... and there was
great slaughter on each side, but the Danes held possession of the battle
place. And after this fight there came a great summer force [of Danes]
to Reading. And the Easter after, King Ethelred died. Then Alfred his
brother succeeded to the kingdom of the West Saxons, and one month after,
with a small force, he fought against all the army at Wilton, but the
Danes held possession of the battle place. _And this year nine great
battles were fought against the army in the kingdom south of the Thames;
besides which Alfred, the king’s brother, and individual aldermen, and
king’s thanes, often rode raids on them, which were not reckoned._”
Such were the disasters with which Alfred’s reign began. His fighting-men
were exhausted or slaughtered; his kingdom torn from side to side, and
its chief towns stormed: the northern, central, and eastern kingdoms had
been blotted out. Burhred of Mercia was driven over sea, and Wessex
was forced to buy a brief rest with gold. Alfred equipped a few ships
and gained some temporary success. But soon after, the Danes with a
great fleet swept round the south coast and penetrated into Dorsetshire
and Devonshire. Thence passing northwards into Gloucestershire, and
reinforced by a new fleet in the Bristol Channel, the Danish host
suddenly fell upon Wiltshire. The Saxon defence was broken in pieces.
“The [Danish] army harried the West Saxons’ land, and settled there, and
drove over sea much of the people, and of the rest the most they harried.
_And the people submitted to them, save the King Alfred; and he, with a
little band, withdrew to the woods and fastnesses in the moors._”
Alfred seemed utterly ruined. He, the grandson of Egbert overlord of
England, the successor on the throne of Wessex of his father and his
three brothers, had been king just seven years, and in scores of battles
he had been fighting the Danes for ten years. He had seen the three
northern kingdoms of Angles broken up and the reigning house in each
exterminated. Step by step he had seen Kent, Surrey, and Wessex overrun;
assailed by sea and land, from the coast, the rivers, and the Bristol
Channel. His own people had been driven across sea, or crushed into
submission; and he himself, with a small band of followers, was forced
to find shelter in woods and swamps. His lot seemed hopeless, but he
alone did not despair.
The crisis was indeed the gravest to which our country has ever been
exposed. The Danish host was now a large and disciplined army bent on
conquering and settling new lands, and already masters of the island
from the Severn to the Tees. They were the fiercest and rudest of the
tribes which had broken into Europe; Heathens, full of hatred and scorn
for the religion, culture, arts, and civilisation of Christendom. With
a real genius for war, both by sea and land, fired with the thirst of
glory and adventure, they were better armed, more mobile, more martially
organised than Saxon, Angle, or Jute. Short of a miracle their ultimate
triumph over the whole island seemed certain. Had it been achieved, the
civilisation of England would have been retarded for ages. Christianity,
learning, arts, and legislation, which had progressed for two centuries,
would have been stamped out, and our island would have been the seat of
a barbarous and heathen horde. From the nature of their island conquest
and their own mastery of the seas, they could not have been absorbed in
Christendom so rapidly as were the Normans of France, or the Danubian
tribes of Germany. They might have resisted for centuries both conversion
and conquest from Europe. Nay more, from the supreme opportunities
afforded by our island and all its resources as a basis for an imperial
race, it is too probable that the heathen Danes, once firmly seated in
the whole of Britain, might have proved the lasting scourge of Europe
itself. From this tremendous peril, England and Europe were saved by the
genius of our Saxon hero.
In the Easter of that year, 878, the _Chronicle_ relates, “Alfred,
with a little band, wrought a fortress at Athelney, and from that work
warred on the army, with that portion of the men of Somerset that was
nearest.” Athelney was a bit of firm ground in the morasses formed by the
Parret and the Tone in Somersetshire. There, for a few months, the king
organised a new army, drawn from Somerset and Wilts and such Hants men
as were left. In May he suddenly dashed out of the wood of Selwood: “his
Wessex men were rejoiced to see him”: he fought a great fight against the
whole “army” at Ethandune, near Westbury, put them to flight and drove
them to their camp, where, after fourteen days of siege, he forced the
Danes to surrender. It was a crushing victory—the turning-point in the
life of Alfred—in the life of England.
The importance of it was this. A part of the beaten host sailed away over
seas. But the rest, under their king, Guthrum, agreed to accept Christian
baptism, to withdraw out of Wessex and the western half of Mercia, and to
settle peaceably in East Anglia, north of Thames. Guthrum, with thirty
of his chiefs, came to Alfred’s stronghold, received at his baptism the
Saxon name of Athelstan from his victor and god-father, remained twelve
days with the king and gave large presents. By the Peace of Wedmore, 878,
Wessex and West England were saved, and the ultimate incorporation of the
Danes with Christendom was secured. At first sight and in strict form,
Alfred had surrendered Eastern England to the conqueror. The Treaty was
not honestly observed by the Danes, and Guthrum and his warriors again
became enemies. But the core of England was saved; the amalgamation of
Dane and Saxon was founded in principle and in distant effect. And the
Peace of Wedmore was a stroke of genius more daring and more far-reaching
in result than the splendid victory of Ethandune by which it had been won.
Leaving the Danes for the present undisturbed in all Eastern England
between Thames and Tees, Alfred occupied himself with restoring his
shattered and desolated Kingdom of Wessex. His treasury was empty, the
towns were in ruins, and civil government paralysed. He built forts,
abbeys, and schools; repeopled and stocked waste districts; and set to
work to establish something like a standing military force to meet the
regular “army” of Danes. Hitherto Alfred had commanded loose levies of
half-armed men, who by custom disbanded after two months’ service. This
had enabled small but organised bands of Danes to overrun England, and
to win practical successes even when beaten by numbers in the fields.
Alfred, like William of Normandy in the eleventh, like Cromwell in the
seventeenth century, saw, even so early as the ninth century, that
victory belonged not to numbers but to regular armies. He organised
what was at least a permanent local militia, with definite quotas of
levies and an alternate system of reserves, besides the garrisons of
fortified places. He rebuilt the broken fortresses, exercised his men in
entrenchments, and adapted from the Danes their military arts.
But his eye of genius foresaw that the country was not safe whilst the
invaders had command of the seas. Thus he organised a fleet, and assessed
the ports and maritime districts to support it. He himself ultimately
designed a class of ship, longer and swifter than those in use, though
at first he had to man his navy with mercenary Frisians and sea-rovers.
Towards the close of his reign, and in that of his son and grandson,
a genuine English navy asserted its command of the Channel, which two
centuries later his feeble successors lost again.
He then turned to reorganise the system of justice, making the judges the
direct ministers of the sovereign, personally responsible to him, and
subject in certain cases to his final appeal. His biographer tells us
that he keenly revised unjust judgments, and tradition exaggerated this
into a preposterous legend. He caused a collection of the old laws to be
compiled—carefully resisting any general new legislation, or the fusion
of the Wessex, Mercian, and Kentish customs into a symmetrical code. His
laws were a compilation, with selection of what was approved best, and
rejection of what was condemned as obsolete or mischievous. In the spirit
of conservative amendment which marks his whole career, he is careful to
tell us that he “durst not venture to set down much of his own.” He was
content with partial revision and excision, under the advice of his Witan.
The combination in a code of Saxon, Anglian, and Kentish “dooms” gave a
certain stimulus towards national union in a larger aggregate. But a much
more powerful cause unexpectedly emerged out of the Danish invasions.
By these savage shocks the royal houses that had ruled in Mercia, in
East Anglia, in Northumbria, were not only overthrown, but were extinct.
Alfred remained the one victorious king of the race of Cerdic, the
legitimate sovereign of Wessex and Kent, the natural source of kingly
authority wherever Danes were not in possession of rule. Having won
back the western half of Mercia by the Peace of Wedmore, Alfred became
its king by silent consent of its Anglian people. He did not fuse West
Mercia with Wessex; he was not formally installed or crowned. He made
Ethelred, the husband of his daughter Ethelfleda, alderman, and himself
exercised the functions of king, with a separate Mercian administration
and Witan. By this wise and tentative system of dual monarchy, Alfred was
firmly seated the undisputed sovereign of Southern England from the mouth
of the Thames to the Exe, ruling by his son-in-law all Central England
west of Watling Street from the Severn to the Ribble. He thus became, but
a few years after his romantic sortie from Athelney, the most powerful
ruler holding the widest single realm within our island. This effected
a practical supremacy over the main part of England proper, except for
the Danes in the east. And he thus made it possible that there should
be a true English kingdom, of which his son Edward, and his grandson
Athelstan, were formally recognised as sovereigns.
More than once after the settlement effected at Wedmore and the years
of peace it brought, Alfred had to meet formidable enemies both by sea
and land. But fierce as these campaigns were, they did not imply such
incessant warfare, such desperate crises, as had made the first ten years
of his early manhood one long battle for life and home. Alfred was now at
least as well able to defend his country from the Scandinavian invaders
as were the rulers of France and Germany, on whom the storm burst
whenever the Northmen had been checked in England.
Six years after the Peace of Wedmore Alfred had to meet again a force
of Danes which had pushed up the Thames, and to chastise the East
Anglians who had violated the Treaty by a fresh outbreak. A new treaty
with Guthrum gave Alfred possession of London and adjacent parts of
Middlesex, which were finally rescued from the Danes, and annexed to
English Mercia under its alderman, Ethelred, Alfred’s son-in-law. Again,
in the twenty-third year of Alfred’s reign a new body of Vikings from
Norway descended on to Wessex and were joined by a second rising of the
Anglian Danes. For more than two years the war was continued over a large
part of England—from the Thames and its affluents across to the Severn;
from Exeter northwards to Chester. By a series of vigorous and skilful
campaigns, in concerted strategy of armies and fleets, the king, his son
and his son-in-law, defeated this formidable combination, captured the
entire Danish fleet, overawed the Britons of Wales and Cornwall, forced
the East Anglian Danes to keep within their own reserves, and drove the
northern freebooters across the Channel. Once again, in the last years of
his reign, Alfred had to meet a new invasion of pirates at sea, who were
defeated in a series of fierce and bloody encounters. These are the last
recorded campaigns of the king, who from his boyhood, for nearly thirty
years, had been continually in arms; but, by obstinate wars and sagacious
policy, he had tamed the savage Norsemen, and at length transmitted to
his descendants a kingdom doubled and trebled in extent and greatly
increased in culture and strength.
England had been rescued from barbarism by the heroism of Alfred and his
aptitude for war. But it is his genius as a creative statesman which
left permanent effects on the history of England and made him one of the
principal founders of the greatness of our country. His conversion and
settlement of Guthrum’s Danes in East Anglia, his generous forbearance
and his repeated treaties with them in spite of their faithless conduct,
led to the ultimate amalgamation of Dane, Angle, and Saxon, which
created the compound English race. A less sagacious victor would have
sought to clear his country of Norsemen, and would undoubtedly have been
overwhelmed by successive invasions himself. Alfred’s whole career shows
a conscious purpose to break with the tribal and local isolation of the
West Saxon, to attach Wessex with Mercia, to civilise Dane and Briton,
and to bring England into closer union with the religious and political
system of Europe.
Alfred’s restoration of London was the stroke of a true statesman.
The city had been stormed by the Norsemen in 851, and since then had
been desolate and almost deserted, save when occupied by the Danes as
winter-quarters, as it was in 872. Within the Danish power it remained
until 886, the year of Alfred’s second treaty with Guthrum. By that it
was ceded to him with the adjacent part of Middlesex. The king rebuilt
its walls and repeopled it, and added it to Mercia, from which it was not
again separated. The military and political genius of Alfred and his long
experience of war with the Danes had seized on the immense importance
of a restored London, carved out of Danish East Anglia, with power to
block all incursions up the Thames and its various tributary rivers. The
restoration of London by the King of Wessex was thus an epoch in the
history, not only of the city itself, but of the country of which it was
destined by nature to be the capital.
Alfred had been at this date fifteen years on the throne, and the whole
aspect of affairs was changed. When he began to reign heathen barbarians
were masters of the Eastern, Central, and Northern parts of England, and
threatened to break up Wessex. They swept round all coasts, and pushed
up the rivers, plundering, burning, raiding, and slaughtering. Now, they
were shut up in East Anglia, outwardly christianised, bound by formal
treaties of peace, confronted at sea by strong fleets, and gradually
submitting to the moral force of superior civilisation. As Goths and
Franks were overawed by the Roman empire they conquered, so Vikings and
Danes gradually recognised the higher organisation of Wessex. Alfred at
last ruled over a compact realm stretching from the Channel up to the
Ribble, with fortresses in such places as Rochester, London, Exeter, and
Chester. Lastly, in a rebuilt London, he was master of the Thames, with a
powerful base on the Danish side of the great river.
As Alfred, we are told, was at Rome in his sixth year, and had
subsequently been with his father at the Court of Charles the Bald, whose
daughter Judith became the boy’s step-mother, the young king must have
been impressed by his memories of foreign lands. His yearly embassies
with offerings to the Pope, and the restoration of the Saxon College at
Rome, bear witness to his close relations with the See. He married his
own daughter, Elfrida, to Baldwin II., Count of Flanders, son of the same
Judith, and ancestor of Matilda, wife of the Conqueror. This brought
about a connection between England and Flanders, both so much threatened
by Northmen invaders.
With the Britons of Cornwall and Wales Alfred’s policy showed the same
moderation, sagacity, and practical skill. They were not dangerous
unless united and in active combination with Danes. By the creation of
English Mercia, he effectively cut them off from East Anglia; and his
whole policy was directed to detach them by separate tribes and to win
them into peaceful union with his own people. He had to fight them in
groups from time to time, but he never attempted to conquer or annex
them in the mass. And after the failure of the house of Roderick, of
North Wales, Alfred secured a recognised supremacy over both North and
South Welsh. His wise, firm, and victorious government impressed the
smaller and more backward tribes on all sides; so that, without demanding
any formal subjection, his paramount authority was recognised over the
island, whilst his sphere of influence was extended to Northumbrians and
Scots. The defence and reorganisation of Wessex had founded a sentiment
of national unity, which was ultimately to be consolidated in a formal
kingdom of all England. He made Wessex an organic, civilised, and
progressive kingdom, and created it as the type which England was to
follow.
It was the same idea of bringing England into the European world which
suggested Alfred’s very remarkable series of distant voyages and
missions. The characteristic account of the discoveries of Ohthere and
Wulfstan round the North Cape and in the Baltic, which Alfred inserts
into his translation of _Orosius_, testifies to the king’s strong
interest in the geography and ethnography of Europe. The expedition which
he despatched to India, it is said, in 883, to the shrines of St. Thomas
and St. Bartholomew, in accordance with his vow when he recovered London
from the Danes, was a really extraordinary feat for that age; and, though
some of the MSS. read _Judea_ for _India_, it is thought that the mission
was really sent to Christian churches then known to exist in India. Asser
relates that the king received letters and presents from the patriarch of
Jerusalem; a tale which the later writers considerably embellish. A deep
impression was left by Alfred’s zeal to extend his foreign relations with
distant lands.
His policy of calling in men of learning, teachers, ecclesiastics, and
seamen from countries outside his own, is more fully recorded. Asser,
the learned and excellent monk of St. David’s, was brought out of Wales
and pressed into the service of the king, whose friend, counsellor,
and biographer he became. Plegmund was brought out of Mercia and made
Archbishop of Canterbury; another Mercian, Werfrith, Bishop of Worcester,
was the constant adviser of the king, both in literary and in state
affairs. Grimbald was brought from the monastery of St. Omer; and John,
of Saxony, from the monastery of Corbey. With these came learned monks to
organise the new abbeys and schools which Alfred founded. He encouraged
foreign traders, and summoned artists and craftsmen from the Continent to
direct his buildings and arts. Until his Saxons had learned seamanship,
he engaged Frisians to man his ships, and took into his service
adventurous Vikings such as Ohthere and Wulfstan.
Alfred has left us his own conception of what a king should be: and no
preacher or moralist has ever drawn the portrait in grander lines:—
Power is never a good, unless he be good that has it; so it is
the good of the man, not of the power. If power be goodness,
therefore is it that no man by his dominion can come to the
virtues, and to merit; but by his virtues and merit he comes to
dominion and power. Thus no man is better for his power; but if
he be good, it is from his virtues that he is good. From his
virtues he becomes worthy of power, if he be worthy of it....
By wisdom you may come to power, though you should not desire
the power. You need not be solicitous about power, nor strive
after it. If you be wise and good, it will follow you, though
you should not wish it.
Ah! Wise One, thou knowest that greed and the possession of
this earthly power never were pleasing to me, nor did I ever
greatly desire this earthly kingdom—save that I desired tools
and materials to do the work that it was commanded me to do.
This was that I might guide and wield wisely the authority
committed to me. Why! thou knowest that no man may understand
any craft or wield any power, unless he have tools and
materials. Every craft has its proper tools. But the tools
that a king needs to rule are these: to have his land fully
peopled; to have priestmen, and soldiermen, and workmen. Yea!
thou knowest that without these tools no king can put forth
his capacity to rule.... It was for this I desired materials
to govern with, that my ability to rule might not be forgotten
and hidden away. For every faculty and authority is apt to grow
obsolete and ignored, if it be without wisdom; and that which
is done in unwisdom can never be reckoned as skill. _This will
I say—that I have sought to live worthily the while I lived,
and after my life to leave to the men that come after me a
remembering of me in good works._
... Ah! my soul, one evil is stoutly to be shunned. It is that
which most constantly and grievously deceives all those who
have a nature of distinction, but who have not attained to full
command of their powers. This is the desire of false glory and
of unrighteous power, and of immoderate fame of good deeds
above all other people. For many men desire power that they may
have fame, though they be unworthy, for even the most depraved
desire it also. But he that will investigate this fame wisely
and earnestly, will perceive how little it is, how precarious,
how frail, how bereft it is of all that is good.
Glory of this world! Why do foolish men with a false voice call
thee glory? Thou art not so. More men have pomp and glory and
worship from the opinion of foolish people, than they have from
their own works.
They say a certain king cried: he had a naked sword hanging
over his head by a small thread ready at a moment to cut short
his life. It was so always to me....
Alfred’s relations to the Church were wholly without a cloud or a
blot—alike free from the violence or the impolicy which too often
discredited even the noblest sovereigns of his age. From the hour when
the child Prince of four was anointed by Pope Leo in Rome, down to the
day when the Canons laid his bones in the Old Minster of Winchester, the
career of Alfred presents to us the purest type of the normal relations
between the temporal and spiritual powers—a type of more wisdom than
that of St. Henry or St. Louis, more truly spiritual than that of the
Emperors Charles or Otto. To Alfred, Religion, Culture, Intelligence had
no local limits. He was essentially European, even cosmopolitan, in his
genius. As a boy he had witnessed the inauguration of the new Papal Rome
on the Vatican. He had been at the Court of the great Frank King, whose
daughter became his step-mother; he had known all that was foremost in
the civilisation of the century: he resolved to transplant it to England.
His missions were his message to the world that Britain was no longer an
_ultima Thule_, but henceforth was to march in the van of Progress. He
was, says Freeman, “the spiritual and intellectual leader of his people.”
It is in his own writings that we come to love Alfred best. No ruler
of men has left us so pellucid a revelation of his own soul. As in
_Meditations_ of Aurelius and the Psalms of David, there is given to men
the outpourings of his aspirations and his sorrows. Neither Richelieu,
Cromwell, nor William the Silent ever recorded more frankly their
problems and their aims. In the authentic writings of Alfred we are in
the presence of one who is a teacher as much as a king—who recalls to
us Augustine and à-Kempis, or Bunyan and Jeremy Taylor. His _Boethius_
served him as texts whereon he preached to his people profound sermons
on the moral and spiritual life. Read his homily on Riches—“that it is
better to give than to receive,”—on the true Ruler—“that power is never a
good, unless he be good that has it,”—on the uses of Adversity—“no wise
man should desire a soft life.” Few men ever had so hard a life—with his
mysterious and cruel malady—“his thorn in the flesh” until his early
death—with his distracted and ruined kingdom—his ferocious enemies—his
never-ending cares. And amidst it all we have the king in his silent
study pouring out poetic thoughts upon married love, or friendship,
on true happiness, or the inner life, composing pastoral poetry, or
casting into English old idylls from Greek epic or myth, ending with some
magnificent _Te Deum_ of his own composition.
And with all this spiritual fervour, this literary genius, this passion
for culture, how wonderful is the many-sided energy of the man—his skill
and delight as a huntsman, his love of ballad, anecdote, and merry tale,
his love of all noble art, his zeal as a great builder, his ingenuity in
mechanical contrivance, his invention for measuring time, his planning a
new type of battleship—his supreme foresight in refounding the desolated
city of London. No man ever so perfectly fulfilled the rule—“Without
haste, without rest.” “I have desired,” he wrote, “to live worthily while
I lived, and after my life to leave to the men that should be after me a
remembrance in good works.” And Alfred “the truth-teller”—as an annalist
calls him—never uttered words more true.
Alfred’s name is almost the only one in the long roll of our national
worthies which awakens no bitter, no jealous thought, which combines the
honour of all; Alfred represents at once the ancient monarchy, the army,
the navy, the law, the literature, the poetry, the art, the enterprise,
the industry, the religion of our race. Neither Welshman, nor Scot, nor
Irishman can feel that Alfred’s memory has left the trace of a wound
for his national pride. No difference of Church arises to separate any
who would join to do Alfred honour. No saint in the Calendar was a more
loyal and cherished member of the ancient faith; and yet no Protestant
can imagine a purer and more simple follower of the Gospel. Alfred was
a victorious warrior whose victories have left no curses behind them:
a king whom no man ever charged with a harsh act: a scholar who never
became a pedant: a saint who knew no superstition: a hero as bold as
Launcelot—as spotless as Galahad.
No people, in ancient or modern times, ever had a hero-founder at once so
truly historic, so venerable, and so supremely great. Alfred was more to
us than the heroes in antique myths—more than Theseus and Solon were to
Athens, or Lycurgus to Sparta, or Romulus and Numa were to Rome—more than
St. Stephen was to Hungary, or Pelayo and the Cid to Spain—more than Hugh
Capet and Jeanne d’Arc were to France—more than William the Silent was to
Holland—nay, almost as much as the Great Charles was to the Franks.
The life-work of the Great Alfred has had a continuity, an organic
development, a moral, intellectual, and spiritual majesty which has no
parallel or rival amongst rulers in the annals of mankind. He is the
father of English History, the founder of English prose. He gave impulse
and form to the _English Chronicle_, the oldest national record in modern
Europe. He formed himself, or dictated, an organic prose literature,
which was kept in current use until the Norman Conquest. His mark as
a king is the creative mind—the organising genius. His whole life, as
recorded in act and as imagined in his own ideals, has the stamp of
supreme insight, practical wisdom, self-control, devotion to duty. His
passion for poetry, his love for history, his dignity, his grace, his
tenderness, his manly piety—all alike are spontaneous and beautiful—all
are in harmony, none are in excess.
ALFRED AS A RELIGIOUS MAN AND AN EDUCATIONALIST
BY THE BISHOP OF BRISTOL
ALFRED AS A RELIGIOUS MAN AND AN EDUCATIONALIST
I
HIS EARLY YEARS
Earliest years—Visits to Rome—Purpose of such visits—His
father’s will—His education—Saxon poetry—His mother’s book—His
religious interest—His desire for learning—Musical skill—His
religious wars—He becomes king.
The original sources of information from which this chapter is drawn are
fairly numerous. Asser’s _Life of Alfred_ is of course the chief source;
but Alfred’s laws, Alfred’s translations, Alfred’s will, all throw much
light on his character as a religious man; and the translations tell
us something of his views on education, besides what we learn from the
record of his actions.
Alfred’s mother was Osburga; Asser tells us that she was a very religious
woman, noble alike in family and by her own disposition. His father
Ethelwulf gave him an early training in devotion to the faith of Christ.
In the year 853, which Asser declares to have been the fifth year of
Alfred’s life—though some say his eleventh year, which would seem more
probable—Ethelwulf sent him to Rome with an honourable escort of nobles
and commoners. Pope Leo IV. received him, anointed him for king, and
adopted him as his spiritual son. This may mean that Alfred was confirmed
in Rome; Ethelwerd, a descendant of Alfred, believed that it referred to
baptism. Another account states that the Pope anointed him king of the
Demetians; but that seems out of the question, as he had four brothers
older than himself. The statement may be due to the fact that some years
after Alfred became king, the kings and people of that part of Wales
made submission to him.[1] Two years later Ethelwulf himself went to
Rome, with great honour, and took with him Alfred, because he loved him
more than his other sons. A long list of Ethelwulf’s gifts was given by
Anastasius in his _Lives of the Popes_; they were very magnificent if the
record is true. The father and son remained in Rome for a year. Alfred’s
mother was, we must suppose, then dead, for Ethelwulf took a new wife
home with him, Judith, the daughter of Charles the Bald.
We have in Ethelwulf’s will an interesting evidence of the impression
made upon him by Rome. It is as well to state such of the provisions as
have come down to us, for they are in themselves of importance, and they
introduce us to important facts of the time; also, we shall then have
something with which to compare Alfred’s will when the time comes to deal
with it. The provisions show the kind of religious atmosphere in which
Alfred was brought up as a young boy.
Ethelwulf ordered that the money he left behind him should be divided
between his sons and the nobles for the good of his soul. Further, for
the benefit of his soul, which from the first flower of his youth he had
studied in all things to promote, he directed that in all his hereditary
dominions one poor man for each ten hides of land, either a native or a
foreigner,[2] should be provided with meat, drink, and clothing, by his
successors, even to the day of judgment. And the curiously significant
condition is imported, “if the country should continue to be inhabited
by men and cattle, and not become deserted”: to such an extent had the
ravages of the Danish pirates gone. Also, and still for the good of his
soul, three hundred mancuses[3] were to go to Rome. Their destination
explains to us the religious attraction which drew men in his time to
the old capital of the Western world. The journey was dangerous;[4]
it was also expensive.[5] King Canute spoke very strongly about this
in his time. He thanked God that he had been able to visit the holy
Apostles Peter and Paul. That was the aspect in which the purpose of
the pilgrimage to Rome presented itself to his mind, it was to visit
the tombs of the holy Apostles Peter and Paul.[6] But having thanked
God for his visit, he proceeded to complain of the heavy demands upon
“my archbishops” when according to custom they visited the holy see to
receive the pall. “I complained in the presence of the lord Pope, and
said I was much displeased on account of the immense sums of money which
were demanded of them”; it was decreed that this should cease. In like
manner he settled with the emperor and with the Frank king that the
severity of the taxes by the way should be relaxed. In 688 and 728, two
of Alfred’s predecessors, Cædwalla and Ina, kings of Wessex, wishing to
visit Rome, resigned their kingdom to carry out their wish. Bede tells us
precisely what their purpose was. It was that they might visit the tombs
of the blessed Apostles. Ethelwulf, too, makes his object clear in his
will. One hundred mancuses were to go to Rome in honour of St. Peter,
specially to buy oil for filling all the lamps of his apostolic church
on Easter Eve and at cock-crow; also, one hundred mancuses in honour of
St. Paul, for the same purpose of providing oil for the Church of St.
Paul the Apostle, to fill the lamps on Easter Eve and at cock-crow; and
one hundred mancuses for the universal apostolic pontiff. William of
Malmesbury states that these were to be annual gifts, but that is not
supported by Asser, from whom William takes his account.
It is interesting to note the agreement of these gifts with the facts of
the time. In 847 the Saracens had attacked Rome. The great basilicas of
St. Peter and St. Paul were suburban churches, outside the walls, and
they were plundered and desecrated. We are accustomed to the idea of St.
Paul’s being _fuori le mura_, but St. Peter’s, as we know it, lies in
a district surrounded by walls. This fortified district is called the
Leonine City. It owes its existence and its name to Leo IV., who was Pope
when Ethelwulf sent Alfred to Rome as a boy. A concise account of the
eight years’ papacy of Leo IV. would state that he devoted himself to
building the fortifications of the Leonine City, that St. Peter’s and the
Vatican might no longer be suburban, and to restoring the plundered and
desecrated churches of the two Apostles. Hence Ethelwulf’s gifts to the
two churches and the papal purse. If the dates and periods given by Asser
are correct, Pope Leo died while the Saxon king and prince were in Rome,
and was succeeded by Benedict III. In that case Alfred witnessed in the
autumn of 855 the significant spectacle of an antipope stripping the Pope
of his pontifical robes and ruling for a time in the Lateran.
Under influences such as these Alfred was brought up. His brothers appear
to have been sent out to great men of the kingdom to be educated, but
Alfred was kept always at the king’s court, as the favourite son. He was
specially noted for the attention with which he listened to the Saxon
poems of earlier times, and the care with which he stored them up in an
excellent memory. In after years he spoke of Aldhelm’s English songs and
hymns as the best he knew;[7] and that was saying a great deal, for the
national gift of song, both sacred and secular, was great. It would be
difficult to find in the early records of any nation a sacred song more
touching and beautiful than the stanzas of the “Dream of the Holy Rood,”
incised in early Anglian runes upon the great cross-shaft at Ruthwell,
itself a monument such as no other nation can show. The fuller form of
this great song, embodying the earlier stanzas found on the Ruthwell
cross, was discovered at Vercelli two generations ago, in the Wessex
dialect of Alfred’s time. That Alfred knew by heart this among many other
English songs may be taken as certain. That it made its religious mark on
his mind cannot be doubted.
But, Asser remarks with a severe comment on the neglect in this respect
by his parents, the boy Alfred had no book-learning at all. He was
trained in all bodily exercises, and he especially learned and practised
the art of hunting in all its branches with surprising success; an
art so practical then that Asser believed skill and good fortune in
hunting to be “among the gifts of God, as we have often witnessed.” But
book-learning he had none.
It was his mother who gave him his first taste for book-learning. If
we are to accept the dates and statements of Asser as on the whole
correct, this must have been his step-mother, Judith, though one of the
statements would refer it to Osburga’s time. Alfred was about thirteen
when the event occurred; he remained illiterate, Asser says, till he
was twelve years old or more. Those who take the other view make him
almost four at the time of the following episode. There is no evidence
that Osburga had any learning, though her love for Saxon ballad may be
assumed. Judith, on the other hand, was the daughter of a house which
paid much regard to learning and art. The beautiful Bibles of her father
are in existence still, and we can well understand that she would try to
win the affection of her step-sons by showing them treasures of a kind
new to them. No one who has had the privilege of handling and examining
the books in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris can ever forget the
beauty of the manuscripts which belonged to Charles le Chauve, Judith’s
father. The ivory covers of his Psalter and his Book of the Gospels,
the beauty of the interior of those books, and the fineness of his St.
Denis Bible and his Metz Bible (which is possibly the Bible prepared at
Tours for Charlemagne under the care of Alcuin), abundantly convince us
of the artistic taste of his family. Their evidence could be largely
supplemented from the still-existing manuscripts of Charlemagne, Louis le
Débonnaire, and Lothaire.
His mother, then, one day showed to Alfred and an older brother an
ornamental manuscript of Saxon poems. To tempt them to begin to
learn—again the act of one who had not been responsible for their
ignorance of book-learning—she said she would give the book to the boy
who could first learn to read it. Alfred was delighted with the beauty
of the initial letter. He might well be delighted if it approached the
beauty of the Lindisfarne gospels, wrought a century and a half before,
or the very different style of beauty of the manuscript known as the
Psalter of Athelstane, with its Byzantine type and Teutonic origin, parts
of which Judith may well have seen and handled. The initial letter of
the first Psalm in this Psalter would indeed have been a prize for which
a boy might face the pain of learning to read, even a boy devoted to
hunting.
Alfred spoke first, though the younger. “Will you really give it to the
one who can most quickly understand and recite it before you?” She, glad
and smiling, said, “To him I will give it.” He took it from her hand,
went to his master and read it. When it was read, he brought it back and
recited it. It is not at all improbable that Judith did not know of his
power of memory, and that instead of learning to read it, in our sense
of the word, he got his master to read it over till he knew it by heart
and could point with his finger to the words as he recited them. John
the Deacon, writing in the same century, said that Pope Gregory the
Great (others ascribe it to Gregory III.) invented musical notation as a
_memoria technica_ to remind him of tunes he had learned by ear.
However that might be with Alfred, he had got the taste for written
words, which never left him. He set to work to learn the daily course
of the religious services of the several hours; and then certain of the
psalms; and then a number of prayers. All this collection he had in a
little book which he carried day and night in his bosom. Asser, who
joined him many years later, often saw him use this little book to assist
his prayers, amid all the bustle and business of a king’s life. But still
there is a hint that when this collection was made it was only to him a
representation of what he knew by heart; for Asser says he could not at
that time gratify his most ardent wish to learn liberal art, because, as
Alfred told him, there were then no good readers in all the kingdom of
the West Saxons.[8] Indeed, he confessed to Asser with many lamentations
and inmost sighs of his heart that the greatest of all the difficulties
and impediments of his life had been that when he was young, and had
the capacity for learning, he could not find teachers; and when he was
more advanced in life, he was so harassed by a disease unknown to all
the physicians of the island, as well as by anxieties of sovereignty,
internal and external, and continual invasions of pagans, that there was
no time for reading, even his masters and writers being to some extent
disturbed in their occupations. But yet he never to the end of his life
ceased from the insatiable desire of knowledge.
Asser makes no reference to his traditional skill as a harpist and
minstrel. Probably it was a matter of course. Two hundred years before,
Cædmon, in Northumbria, had fled the festive society of his labouring
fellows, because he alone of them, when the harp was passed to him in
turn, could not sing; and the sense of isolation in this respect wrought
so strongly in his mind that in the dreams of the night he created song,
and next morning he remembered the dignified and stately creation.
Aldhelm was singing in Wessex in Cædmon’s time, sitting on the parapet
of Malmesbury bridge, and beguiling people to sacred thought by the
attraction of his secular lays.[9] We have no examples still surviving of
English musical notation of Alfred’s time; but many examples exist of the
next century, as, for instance, the manuscript written in Wessex about
eighty years after Alfred’s death for Æthelwold, Bishop of Winchester,
which includes the kyrie _Rex Splendens_, composed by Dunstan, who was
born in 925. There can practically be little doubt that Alfred had a
similar notation, consisting of very rudimentary musical notes, with
guide-letters showing time and expression. It was, however, the century
after his death that saw the great development of this principle in
England. Up to that time the tradition of the plain-song introduced by
Augustine had been handed down from ear to ear. The chief use of our
musical notation was to guard against the loss or serious variation of
the traditional plain-song and the more complicated additions made by
Dunstan and other skilled musicians. The Wessex churchmen learned their
rugged plain-song so well, that after the Norman Conquest the monks of
Glastonbury suffered death at the hands of the Norman soldiers rather
than abandon their insular use for the lighter graces of the plain-song
of William of Fescamp.
Alfred’s warfare against the Danes began before he was king. It was
in his eyes much more than a warfare against violent invaders of his
territory; it was to him, above all, a religious war. That the enemy
were pagans, and that part of their aim was to obliterate Christianity,
that was his chief stimulus. To the Danes also it was a religious war.
The Angles and Saxons and Jutes, whose lands they pillaged, were their
own very distant cousins; they had in times past worshipped the same
deities whom now the Danes worshipped. To the Danes they were renegades
from the one religion which the Danes held for truth. Asser knew well the
king’s feeling on this subject. He describes at some length the series of
battles which brought Alfred into prominence, and he describes them from
information received from Alfred. He never describes the combatants as
English and Danes; he always speaks of them as Christians and pagans.
The first instance we have of the bent of Alfred’s mind after he came
to maturity occurs in connection with this feeling on his part that
to fight the Danes was a religious work. In 871, just before he came
to the throne, the pagan army fought against the Earl of Berkshire at
Englefield, and the Christians gained the victory. Four days later,
Alfred and his brother King Ethelred attacked the pagans at Reading,
where they had strong fortifications. They cut to pieces such of the
pagans as they found outside the fortifications; but the main body of
the pagans sallied forth, and the Christians fled. Four days after, the
pagan army was on strong ground at Æscesdun, the hill of the ash, and the
Christians, in shame and indignation, roused by the calamity at Reading,
determined to attack them under Ethelred and Alfred.
Ethelred was a religious man, as Alfred was, but his religion took
practically a different form. The king prepared for the fight by hearing
mass, and the army waited for him. The pagans did not wait. Time pressed.
Alfred, who was second in command, became very anxious. The king, who
commanded the force arrayed against the pagan king, was still set in
prayer. He declared he would not depart, alive, till the priest had done,
nor leave the divine service. Alfred was to deal with the two pagan
jarls; he must either retreat or charge without waiting for his brother.
Relying on the divine counsels he charged, and after a long and severe
fight, in which many of the leading pagans were killed, the Christians
won the day. They strewed the whole plain of Æscesdun with pagans,
slaughtered in their flight. Alfred himself, it should be observed, was
from childhood a frequent visitor of holy places, for the sake of prayer
and almsgiving. It was certainly not from any disregard of prayer or of
God’s house and the public worship of God that he fought while Ethelred
heard mass.
That same year, after another great fight at Basing in which the pagans
got the victory, Alfred became king on the death of his brother;
Ethelred’s son Ethelwold being too young to reign. A month later the
pagans defeated him at Wilton. Eight pitched battles in one year, besides
endless skirmishes by night and day in which Alfred and his chief men
were engaged without rest or cessation against the pagans: that is
Asser’s summary of the year which saw Alfred mount the throne of the West
Saxons.
The same note of a religious war is struck in the campaign in which
Alfred finally triumphed. He issued forth from his stronghold in
the marsh of Athelney to make frequent assaults upon the pagans.
In the seventh week after Easter, 878, he rode to Ecgbryht’s Stone
(Brixton-Deverill) in the eastern part of the Selwood, or Great Wood,
in British Coit Mawr, and on the third day reached Edington, where he
fought with valour and persistence against the pagans and defeated them
completely, killing all who were not within the earthworks. The survivors
he hemmed in for fourteen days. At the end of that time the pagans were
worn out, and begged for terms of peace. Their leader Guthrum proposed
to become a Christian. It was agreed that those who would be baptized
might settle in England; those who would remain pagan must leave the
island.[10] In the final terms, as in every phrase of Asser’s story, it
stands out as a religious war, and as a great religious victory it ended.
From that time Christian Danes and Christian Saxons could agree.
II
HIS REIGN
His early years as king—Communications with Rome—Education
of his children and others—His own labours—Religious
exercises—Introduction of learned men—Invention of
candle-clocks—Distribution of income—Foundation of
monasteries—Formation of his Manual—Embassies to foreign
parts—Ecclesiastical laws.
In the early and distressful days of Alfred’s reign his position was
almost unbearable. He would not listen to the appeals for help and
protection pressed upon him by his subjects. What was there that he
could do to help and protect them? He was maturing his plans; meanwhile,
he repulsed his subjects, and paid, or seemed to pay, no heed to their
requests. The holy man St. Neot, who was his relation—some say his
father’s brother—often told him that he would suffer great adversity
on this account, but Alfred turned, or seemed to turn, a deaf ear to
the reproofs of the man of God. His sin, Asser tells us, did not go
unpunished; Alfred fell into so great misery that sometimes none of his
subjects knew where he was or what had become of him. If this is true, it
is sufficiently accounted for by his grave anxieties, and the terrible
and mysterious disease which seized him suddenly in the midst of his
marriage feast in 868, three years before his accession, and never left
him free from pain, or the threat of pain, from the twentieth to the
forty-fourth year of his age. But most probably the episode is merely
part of the legendary life of St. Neot, inserted after Asser’s time in
his _Life of Alfred_.
Among other cares of the first ten or eleven years of his reign, he
turned his attention to the English school in Rome, and persuaded Pope
Martin to free it from tribute and tax. This is the Pope who absolved
Bishop Formosus from his excommunication by Pope John VIII. and from
his vow not to return to Rome; a reversal which led to the trial and
condemnation of the dead body of Formosus, mentioned on a later page.
Alfred was now free to devote himself to the restoration of religion and
learning. His own family management was a pattern to all. His youngest
son, Ethelwerd, was sent to the schools which Alfred had by that time
established. Here he was taught in company with the children of almost
all the nobility of the kingdom, and many that were not noble. They
learned to read both Latin and Saxon books, and they learned to write; so
that by the time they were ready to practise the manly arts—hunting and
such pursuits as befitted noblemen—they had become studious and clever
in the liberal arts. His older children had been taught at home, and no
less carefully. They learned the Psalms and read Saxon books, especially
Saxon poems; at the time when Asser wrote, Edward and Ethelswith[11] were
continually in the habit of making use of books.
The king himself led a laborious life. Invasions by pagans, and his
constantly recurring and disabling bodily pain, did not prevent his
carrying on the government with vigour. And he was full of other
occupations. Hunting in all its branches he continued to practise. He
taught his workers of gold,[12] one of whom no doubt had made in the
earlier years of his reign the ornament of gold and enamel found at
Athelney in 1693 and now in the Bodleian, with its legend speaking of
his personal care, _Alfred had me made_. He trained artificers of all
kinds; he trained his falconers, hawkers, and kennel-men. By his own
mechanical inventions he was able to build houses beyond all precedent
of his ancestors. He learned by heart the Saxon poems and made others
learn them; he recited Saxon books; he alone never desisted from studying
most diligently to the best of his ability. He attended mass and the
other daily religious services; he was frequent in singing psalms and in
prayer, at the day hours and the night hours; he went to the churches at
night to pray secretly, unknown to his courtiers. He was in the habit
of hearing the Divine Scriptures read by his own countrymen, or, if it
so happened, in the company of foreigners. His bishops, too, and all
ecclesiastics, his earls and nobles, his officers and friends, were loved
by him with wonderful affection; their sons who were bred up in the royal
household were as dear to him as his own; he had them instructed in all
good morals, and never ceased to teach them letters day and night. And
yet he complained to God, and to all who were admitted to intimacy with
him, that the Almighty had made him ignorant of divine wisdom and of the
liberal arts. He was affable and pleasant to all—that, we may depend
upon it, was the truth, and not that other story of morose repulse of all
who sought him—and he was curiously eager to investigate things unknown.
Determined to advance learning in his kingdom of Wessex, he invited out
of Mercia four very learned men of that nation. They were Werefrith,
Bishop of Worcester, who translated the dialogues of Gregory and Peter
into Saxon; Plegmund, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, the founder
of the Saxon Chronicle; and the priests Ethelstan and Werewulf. Night
and day, whenever there was leisure, one of these four read to him; so
that he possessed a knowledge of every book, though as yet he could not
himself read his books.
Further, he sent to Gaul for teachers, and two especially are named.
These were Grimbald, the provost of St. Omer, a good singer, prominent
in ecclesiastical discipline and good morals, very learned in Holy
Scripture, and John of Corbey, learned in all kinds of literature and
skilled in many arts. Asser, who was of the greatest service to him,
he persuaded to come to him out of South Wales; Asser’s own account
of the bargaining is very quaint. Asser’s principal function was, as
we have seen in the case of the four Mercians, to read to him night
and day whenever there was time. Alfred carried his determination to
have learned men in important places so far that he would rather keep
a bishopric vacant than fill it with an unlearned man. That he had
the income of vacant bishoprics has been made a charge against him.
An examination of the dates of death of bishops in Alfred’s dominions
and the dates of consecration of their successors fails to provide any
serious ground for a charge of this kind.
The story of Alfred’s invention of candles to measure the time is well
known. It is not so well known that his desire to measure time correctly
came from a religious motive. His determination was to give to God half
his time, day and night. So far as the day was concerned, if the sun was
visible the division could be made; but clouds by day baffled him, and at
night there was darkness. Hence the invention of the candles, which were
measured to burn four hours each. Each candle was divided into twelve
equal parts by lines on the surface. The invention of a lantern followed,
for a reason which sets before us the discomforts of life in those times.
The candles did not burn steadily and evenly, for the flame was blown
about by the violence of the wind, which blew day and night without
intermission through the doors and windows of the churches, the fissures
of the divisions, the plankings, the walls, or the sides of the tents.
Alfred made boxes for the lights, with doors of white ox-horn planed so
thin that they were like glass. There are small niches in some of our
churches now, with signs of doors, probably for protecting the lights at
night from the draught.
And as he gave half of his time to God, so he gave half of his income.
Ethelwulf, his father, had released from tribute to the king one-tenth
part of the royal estates,[13] for the glory of God and his own eternal
salvation. Alfred divided his income into two equal parts, for secular
and for ecclesiastical expenditure. The secular half was divided into
three equal parts. The first was for his soldiers and the nobles who
attended at his court and performed divers functions; these latter
were in three sets, each of which performed one month’s service in
each quarter and spent two months at home. The next third went to the
operatives whom he had collected from every nation, of great skill in
every kind of construction; workers in gold are specially mentioned
in another part of Asser’s description. The remaining third went to
foreigners who visited him, whether they asked for money or not. So much
for the secular half of his income.
The second half of each year’s income was all given to God. It was
divided into four parts. The first part was for the poor of all
nations.[14] It was to be discreetly bestowed; for the king said that,
as far as could be, Pope Gregory’s saying should be fulfilled, give
not much to whom you should give little, nor little to whom much, nor
something to whom nothing, nor nothing to whom something. The second was
for the two monasteries which Alfred had specially founded, at Athelney
and Shaftesbury. The third went to his school, which he had studiously
collected together, of many of the nobility of his own kingdom. The
fourth was for all the neighbouring monasteries in all Saxony and Mercia,
and in some years for monasteries in Wales, Cornwall, Gaul, Brittany,
Northumbria, and sometimes Ireland. It is a remarkable fact that in this
large expenditure for religious purposes, the purposes are at most only
indirectly connected with the definitely spiritual work of ministering
the Word of God and the Sacraments to the people at large.
Asser is not very clear in the sequence of his ideas. But we gather that
the king’s desire to found monasteries was due to his own fixed purpose
of holy meditation, to which he desired to invite others. But he could
not find any one of his own nation, free by birth, who was willing to
adopt the monastic life, except some who were mere children, too young
to choose between good and evil. The love of the monastic life, once so
strong in England, had died out. Asser theorises as to the reasons for
this, and he produces two which seem to be mutually destructive: it was
either because of the constant invasions by sea and land, or because
people abounded in riches of every kind and so despised the monastic
life. He had to get an old Saxon to act as Abbot of his new foundation
of Athelney; and then some priests and deacons from across the seas; and
then, as he had not nearly plenty of inmates, he got as many Gauls as he
possibly could, including children, to be reared to the monastic life.
Asser had himself seen a lad of pagan birth who was educated there, and
who was by no means the hindmost of them all.
The formation of King Alfred’s Manual, which is not known to exist, may
best be told something as Asser tells it. He says that it was in 887
or 888 that the king first formed the desire to interpret passages of
Scripture to those who did not know Latin.
“We were talking together one day, and I read to him an extract from a
certain book. He heard it with both his ears. He brought out his book
with the daily courses and psalms and the prayers he had read in his
youth, and commanded me to write there the quotation. I turned it over,
and found it very nearly full. After some delay I said, had I not better
find another sheet on which this might be entered apart; for perhaps
some other quotation might occur, and if so we should be glad to have
them kept together? ‘Your plan is good,’ he said. So I made haste and
got a sheet and wrote the quotation. That same day no less than three
other passages pleased him; and from that time we talked daily and wrote
such things as pleased him till at last it was full, for he went on
unceasingly collecting many flowers of Divine Scriptures. When the first
quotation was copied onto the sheet, he at once became anxious to read
and interpret it in Saxon, and to teach others. The book grew till it
became almost as large as a Psalter. He called it his Manual, because he
kept it carefully at hand day and night, and found, as he told me, no
small consolation therein.”
It was not to Rome only that Alfred sent messengers and gifts. Asser
speaks, with Celtic breadth, of daily embassies sent to foreign nations,
from the Tyrrhenian sea to the farthest end of Ireland.[15] The English
Chronicle goes further. Alfred vowed, it is said, when they were set
against the enemy in London, to send embassies to St. Thomas and St.
Bartholomew. The Chronicle, under the year 883, tells us that he sent
gifts to India. William of Malmesbury informs us that Sigelm, Bishop
of Sherborne, was sent as ambassador with the gifts to St. Thomas, and
that he prosperously penetrated into India. Thus, Dean Hook remarks,
the first intercourse between England and Hindustan consisted of this
interchange of Christian feeling. It is, however, a little curious that
Asser never mentions India, nor did Alfred interpolate any mention of his
embassy when translating Orosius for his English people. Asser definitely
mentions Judea, telling us that he had seen letters to Alfred which came
with presents from Abel the Patriarch of Jerusalem. It may be worth
mention that other MSS. of the English Chronicle read Iudia and Iudea
instead of India. Still, the fact of the journey of Alfred’s messengers
to some distant part which then bore the name of India, seems to be
accepted on all hands. There is no very violent improbability about it.
Christian missionaries from Persia had reached India and China more than
three centuries before this, two of them bringing the silk-worm to the
Greek empire in Justinian’s reign, about 550. The Egyptian merchant-monk
Cosmas wrote his _Christian Topography_ at that date. He found Nestorian
Christians in Ceylon and Malabar, but the king and people of Ceylon were
still heathens.
Alfred’s Ecclesiastical Laws have a long preface, apparently prepared
by himself. It is an interesting piece of argument. First he gives the
Ten Commandments in Saxon. Writers inform us that he omits the Second
Commandment, in accordance with the evil practice which had already made
considerable progress then; but probably these writers did not read to
the end, for Alfred’s Tenth Commandment is, “Thou shalt not make to
thyself golden gods nor silvern.” Then he points out that our Saviour,
Christ, said He came not to break nor forbid these Commandments, but with
all good to increase them, and mercy and humility He taught. Then he
quotes the decisions of the church at Jerusalem as to the tenderness of
the application of the law to the Gentile converts. When the English race
became Christian, he proceeds, they held synods of holy bishops and great
and wise men. They then ordained, out of that mercy which Christ had
taught, that secular lords, by the synod’s leave, might without sin take
for almost every misdeed, for the first offence, the money fine ordained
by the synod. They then in many synods ordained a fine for many human
misdeeds, and in many synod-books they wrote, at one place one doom, at
another another.
The one offence to which they dared not assign any mercy, that is, any
bot, or money fine, was treason to a lord; because God Almighty adjudged
no mercy to those who despised Him, nor did Christ, the Son of God,
adjudge any to him who sold Him to death, and He commanded that a lord
should be loved as Himself.
This is a very interesting explanation of the Saxon system of money
payments for offences of almost every description. It is not altogether
unlike in principle to the modern magistrate-law that a dog has his first
bite free. That application of the principle found no favour with King
Alfred, in whose days dogs were great and dangerous beasts. If a dog tear
or bite a man, for the first misdeed, 6s.; for the second, 12s.; for the
third, 30s. If the dog do more misdeeds, the owner is to go on paying, or
must repudiate the dog.
“These many dooms I, Alfred the king, gathered together; and commanded
many to be written of those our forefathers held which to me seemed good;
and many of those which seemed to me not good, I rejected them by the
counsel of my wise men. I durst not venture to set down much of my own,
for it was unknown to me what of it would please those who should come
after us.”
Three characteristic dooms may be quoted. “He who steals on Sunday, or
at Christmas or Easter, or on Holy Thursday,[16] or on Rogation days,[17]
or during Lent, shall pay a twofold bot.” “If a man go to the church, and
reveal an offence not revealed, and confess himself in God’s name, be it
half forgiven.” For holidays,—“To all freemen, 12 days at Yule, and the
day on which Christ overcame the devil, and the commemoration day of St.
Gregory, and 7 days before Easter and 7 after, and one day at St. Peter’s
tide, and one day at St. Paul’s tide, and in harvest the whole week
before St. Mary-mass, and one day at the celebration of All Hallows, and
the 4 Wednesdays in Ember weeks,”—forty-two days in all, making, with the
addition of Sundays, just a quarter of the whole year.
III
HIS TRANSLATIONS AND HIS WILL
His translations—Bede’s _Ecclesiastical History of the
English Race_—_The Pastoral Care_—State of learning in
Wessex, Mercia, and Northumbria—Ideal of a bishop’s
life—Orosius—Boethius—Alfred’s religious opinions—John
the Scot—Alfred’s will—Hyde Abbey—State of Rome—Religious
references—Religious bequests—Slaves.
The general drift of Alfred’s opinion as to the sort of learning most
needed by his people is to be gathered from his choice of books to be
put before them in their native language. These were four. For general
history, and for history and geography relating to their own race
on the continent of Europe, he chose Orosius: for mental study, the
_Consolation_ of Boethius: for realisation of the true principles of the
life and work of religion, the _Pastoral Care_: for the Church history
of the English people, of course the great and priceless book of the
Venerable Bede. Of this last we need say nothing. Nor need we dwell upon
the fact that Alfred may be said to have created the continuity of early
English history by his establishment of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle under
Plegmund.
The preface to Alfred’s translation into English from the Latin of Pope
Gregory’s _Pastoral Care_, a treatise on the life and work of a bishop,
gives us so clear an insight into the king’s mind, and such valuable
information as to the state of learning in his time, that it deserves
to be printed in full. Three of the copies of which the king speaks are
in existence, one addressed to Archbishop Plegmund of Canterbury, one
to Bishop Wulfsige of Sherborne, and the third to Bishop Werefrith of
Worcester.
THIS BOOK IS FOR WORCESTER
King Alfred greets Bishop Wærferth with loving words and with
friendship. I let it be known to thee that it has very often
come into my mind, what wise men there formerly were throughout
England, both of sacred and secular orders; and how happy
times there were then throughout England; and how the kings
who had power over the nation in those days obeyed God and his
ministers; and they preserved peace, morality, and order at
home, and at the same time enlarged their territory abroad;
and how they prospered both with war and with wisdom; and
also the sacred orders how zealous they were both in teaching
and learning, and in all the services they owed to God; and
how foreigners came to this land in search of wisdom and
instruction, and how we should now have to get teachers from
abroad if we were to have them. So general was the decay in
England that there were very few on this side of the Humber
who could understand their rituals in English, or translate a
letter from Latin into English; and I believe that there were
not many beyond the Humber. There were so few of them that I
cannot remember a single one south of the Thames when I came
to the throne. Thanks be to God Almighty that we have any
teachers among us now. And therefore I command thee to do as
I believe thou art willing, to disengage thyself from worldly
matters as often as may be, that thou mayest apply the wisdom
which God has given thee wherever thou canst.[18] Consider what
punishments would come upon us on account of this world, if we
neither loved wisdom ourselves nor suffered other men to obtain
it: we should love the name only of Christian, and very few
of the virtues. When I considered all this I remembered also
how I saw in my own early days, before all had been ravaged
and burnt, how the churches throughout the whole of England
stood filled with treasures and books, and there was also a
great multitude of God’s servants. But they had very little
knowledge of the books, for they could not understand anything
of them because they were not written in their own language.
As if they had said: “Our forefathers, who formerly held these
places, loved wisdom, and through it they obtained wealth and
bequeathed it to us. In this we can still see their tracks, but
we cannot follow them, and therefore we have lost both the
wealth and the wisdom, because we would not incline our hearts
after their example.” When I remembered all this, I wondered
extremely that the good and wise men who were formerly all over
England, and had perfectly learnt all the books, did not wish
to translate them into their own language. But again I soon
answered myself and said: They did not think that men would
ever be so careless, and that learning would thus decay; so
they abstained from translating, and they hoped that wisdom in
this land would increase, and our knowledge of languages. Then
I remembered how the law was first known in Hebrew, and again,
when the Greeks had learnt it, they translated the whole of
it into their own language, and all other books besides. And
again, the Romans, when they had learnt it, they translated
the whole of it through learned interpreters into their own
language. And also all other Christian nations translated parts
of it into their own languages. Therefore it seems better to
me, if ye think so, for us also to translate some books which
are most needful for all men to know into the language which
we can all understand. And I would have you do as we very
easily can if we have tranquillity enough, that is, set all
the youth now in England of free men, who are rich enough to
be able to devote themselves to it, to learn, as long as they
are not old enough for other occupations, until they are well
able to read English writing. And let those be afterwards
taught more in the Latin language who are to continue learning
and be promoted to a higher rank. When I remembered how the
knowledge of Latin had formerly decayed throughout England,
and yet many could read English writing, I began, among other
various and manifold troubles of this kingdom, to translate
into English the book which is called in Latin _Pastoralis_,
and in English _Shepherd’s Book_, sometimes word for word and
sometimes according to the sense, as I had learnt it from
Plegmund my archbishop, and Asser my bishop, and Grimbold my
mass-priest, and John my mass-priest.[19] And when I had learnt
it as I could best understand it and as I could most clearly
interpret it, I translated it into English; and I will send a
copy to every bishopric in my kingdom; and on each there is a
[clasp and chain][20] worth fifty mancuses. And I command in
God’s name that no man take the [clasp] from the book or the
book from the minster. It is uncertain how long there may be
such learned bishops as, thanks be to God, there now are nearly
everywhere; therefore I wish these books always to remain in
their place, unless the bishop wish to take them with him, or
they be lent out anywhere, or any one make a copy from them.
Then the book itself is made to speak, as the Cross speaks in the early
Anglian Dream of the Holy Rood:—
This message Augustine over the salt sea brought from the
south to the islanders, as the Lord’s champion had formerly
indited it, the Pope of Rome. The wise Gregorius was versed in
many true doctrines through the wisdom of his mind, his hoard
of studious thoughts. For he gained over most of mankind to
the Guardian of heaven, best of Romans, wisest of men, most
gloriously famous. Afterwards King Alfred brought every word of
me into English, and sent me to his scribes south and north;
ordered more such to be brought to him, that he might send them
to his bishops, for some of them needed it, who knew but little
Latin.
[Illustration: THE SEASONS—APRIL TO JUNE
(_Cottonian Library_)]
It is not our business here to consider the contents of Pope Gregory’s
treatise on the shepherding of the people. But the headings of two or
three of the sixty-five chapters will show what the attraction for
Alfred’s mind was. The first chapter argues “that unlearned men are not
to presume to undertake teaching.” To prevent this was a purpose with
Alfred; he faced obloquy, it is said, rather than fill bishoprics with
unlearned men. The second chapter forbids even learned men to undertake
to teach if they are not ready to live in accordance with their own
precepts. The third and fourth chapters no doubt appealed to himself as
a secular governor, though they related to spiritual government, “how
he who governs must despise all hardships, and how afraid he must be of
every luxury,” and “how often the occupations of power and government
distract the mind of the ruler.” The sixty-fifth chapter brings the whole
to a conclusion with an argument thoroughly after Alfred’s own heart:
“When any one has performed all the duties of his pastoral charge, let
him then consider and understand his own self, lest either his exemplary
life or his successful teaching puff him up.”
In his translation of the history and geography of Orosius he does not
interpolate information where we might not unnaturally have expected him
to do so. Of his large and valuable interpolations of a geographical
character, and in regard to the history of the Teutonic races, mention
is no doubt made in another chapter. In the sixth book, to mention two
cases where Orosius writes of the times of Constantius and Constantine,
and makes references to Britain, he does not speak of Christianity here,
and Alfred does not add anything. Orosius speaks of many martyrs under
Diocletian, not localising any. Again, Alfred does not add anything. Two
quaint phrases the king employs:—“In those days Arius the mass-priest
was in error with regard to the right faith”;—“Constantine was the first
emperor who ordered churches to be built, and locked up the devil’s
houses.”
It is not to be wondered at that Alfred determined to translate into
English the _Consolation_ of Boethius, and his interpolations show
how dear the book was to his heart and to his reason. King and people
alike had gone through much trial and suffering, and such happiness
and prosperity as they had was at best very precarious. The book of
_Consolation_ which Boethius wrote in the sad days when all his great
prosperity had passed from him, and he waited in chains for the last
fatal word of the tyrant, was well suited for men and women situated as
the English then were. Boethius himself, who was executed in 524, was
both a very learned Christian and a deeply-read student of classical
philosophy. His Consolations are taken entirely from philosophy, but
they have the Christian spirit. They thus supplement the help which the
Christian religion gives to those in anxiety, and put into the troubled
mind fresh and useful trains of thought. This is probably one main reason
for the attraction which the book had in the Middle Ages, and we cannot
doubt that Alfred had this in view in giving it to his people. Why he did
not at the same time have the New Testament translated into English is
not clear, for he himself pointed out, in his Preface to the _Pastoral
Care_, that the law was first given in Hebrew, and then necessarily
translated into Greek, and Latin, and the languages of the various
nations which embraced Christianity. William of Malmesbury tells us that
the king did as a matter of fact set about translating the Psalter, but
died before the first part was done.
Besides the hint which his translation of Boethius gives, it is on
another account probable that Alfred took a broad view of religious
questions. If the evidence is to be accepted as sufficient, he was a
patron of Johannes Scotus Erigena. John the Scot, that is, as we should
now say, the Irishman, had made the Continent too hot to hold him by
the breadth of his religious views. He refused to distinguish religion
from philosophy, an attitude of mind which may have specially influenced
Alfred, who had probably known him as a boy at the court of Charles the
Bald, where John acted as tutor to Judith. He had maintained, too, that
authority, when it is not confirmed by reason, is of no value. He had
made a determined stand against the new and materialistic teaching on
the Real Presence, known as transubstantiation. He found a refuge at the
court of Alfred. This can scarcely have meant less than that Alfred, to
some extent at least, shared his opinions; and if that was so, we see an
additional reason for Alfred’s admiration of Boethius, and we have some
explanation of the character of the provisions of the will by which the
king disposed of his property.
In those days, and in days earlier still, to teach an unpopular opinion
was a dangerous thing. Great violence was not unknown in schools of
learning. Even in modern times we hear a good deal of the violence of
students in Paris and in other universities of the Continent. When
Archbishop Theodore came over to England in 664 and began to teach,
there were very sharp passages at arms between the teacher and the Irish
students who attended his lectures. Aldhelm was a student at Canterbury
at the time, and he describes one of these encounters, where the Irish
students baited their lecturer, Archbishop though he was. The old student
and lecturer of the University of Athens was more than a match for them.
“He treated them,” Aldhelm wrote to a friend, “as the truculent boar
treats the Molossian hounds. He tore them with the tusk of grammar,
and shot them with the deep and sharp syllogisms of chronography, till
they cast away their weapons and hurriedly fled to the recesses of
their dens.” In Wessex the students went further still. One John—almost
certainly not the famous John of whom we are speaking, though mediæval
writers took him to be the same—so irritated the students of the great
school of Malmesbury, that they set on him with the sharp iron styles
of the time, which represented our modern pens, and inflicted wounds of
which he died. William of Malmesbury gives the epitaph of this John from
a tomb on the left side of the altar at Malmesbury; he is described as
the holy sophist John, and is said to have been a martyr. William does
not absolutely identify him with Johannes Erigena, but he describes him
as Johannes Scottus, and says that he had been at the court of Charles
the Bald, and was attracted by the munificence of Alfred. We may fairly
say that William believed their John to be the Erigena, and we may
almost certainly say that in that belief he was wrong.
John the Erin-born is usually said to have died about 886. There is
thus no difficulty on the score of dates in the way of his being at
Alfred’s court. He must have been an oldish man, for he was a prominent
controversialist as early as 854.
Alfred’s will is on all accounts a document of very great interest. We
have noticed already the provisions of his father’s will, so far as they
have been preserved for us, and with these we cannot but contrast the
corresponding parts of Alfred’s disposition of his property. Many details
of the will we must for our present purpose pass by, notwithstanding
their general importance: they are no doubt dealt with in another chapter.
Alfred’s will exists in an Anglo-Saxon form and in a Latin form. It
is preserved in the Register of Newminster, which Alfred founded at
Winchester. This institution was afterwards moved to Hyde. The will was
copied into the Register now known as the Register of Hyde Abbey, about
the years 1028-1032.
Ethelwulf had bequeathed considerable sums to the Church of St. Peter
and the Church of St. Paul at Rome, and to the Pope. Alfred had sent
presents to Rome. From 883 to 890 there are four records of West Saxon
gifts. But after 890 there is no record, and in Alfred’s will no mention
is made of the chief city of the Western world or of the spiritual head
of the Church of the West. One explanation may be that at his death the
sad period had already begun which makes men of all Christian creeds hang
their heads with shame that such things could be. King Alfred’s court
was unique among secular courts in its purity and order; the papal court
had entered upon one of those phases in its existence where it has stood
out prominently among the most impure and disorderly spots on the face
of the known earth. It is enough, for any one who knows the meaning of
the references, to glance at the table of contents of a Church history
for the years 896 and 897:—“Death of Pope Formosus; Pope Boniface VII.;
trial and condemnation of the body of Formosus by Pope Stephen VI.; Pope
Stephen strangled; Pope Romanus; Pope Theodorus II.; Pope John IX.; Pope
Sergius IV.; Marquisate of Tusculum; Theodora and Marozia.” We can well
understand that not all Alfred’s reverence for the place where lay the
bodies of St. Peter and St. Paul could overcome the effect of a record so
grievous as that.
Turning to those parts of Alfred’s will which have a directly religious
bearing, it is impossible not to be struck by the obliqueness of the
religious references. Of his reliance on divine help and his trust in
divine assistance there is no doubt. He clearly regarded these as
powers actually at work in the world, and as the one only means by which
the actions of those who should follow him might be rightly guided. It
is by God’s support that he trusts his will may be carried out. He is
king by God’s grace. He has considered of his soul’s health, and of the
inheritance which God and his ancestors did give; but he is reserved
and allusive where other men of the time were detailed and definite.
The air of reserve would almost seem to indicate that the teaching of
John the Erin-born, while it had not in the least shaken the confidence
of his faith and trust, had seriously indisposed him to speak in
confident detail of the relations of man’s service to God’s help. “Let
them distribute, for me and for my father and for the friends that he
interceded for and I intercede for, 200 pounds; 50 to the mass-priests
all over my kingdom, 50 to the poor servants of God, 50 to the distressed
poor, 50 to the church where I shall rest.” “And I will that they do
restore to the families at Domersham their land-deeds and their liberty
to choose any man they will [_i.e._ to continue to live under that lord
or to choose another], for me and for Ælflæd [his eldest daughter] and
for the friends that she did intercede for and I do intercede for.” “And
let them also seek with a living price[21] for my soul’s health so far
as may be[22] and as is fitting and as ye to give me shall be disposed.”
It has been clearly shown that _on cwicum ceape_ was a recognised phrase
for “with live stock.” The reserve of Alfred’s language in this, the
most important part of his will in mediæval opinion, is worthy of note.
Indeed, the absence of definite words which might have been expected is
so marked that in another Latin copy, a very incorrect translation of
part of the Anglo-Saxon will, they are added, but curiously enough are
connected solely with the restoration of the land-books to the people at
Domersham. The freeing of slaves was a religious work. It will be seen
that as a religious work Alfred himself regarded it. “I beseech in God’s
name and in the name of His Saints that no one of my relations or heirs
obstruct the freedom of those whom I have redeemed. The West-Saxon Witan
have pronounced it lawful that I may leave them free or bond as I will.
But I, for God’s love and for my soul’s advantage, will that they be
master of their freedom and of their will; and in the name of the living
God I bid that none disturb them, neither by money exaction nor by any
manner of means.”
It is a well-known fact that the Church set before men the duty of giving
slaves their freedom. Late in the seventh century, Bishop Wilfrith
released 250 men and women whom he found attached as slaves to his
estate of Selsey; and Archbishop Theodore denied Christian burial to the
kidnapper, and prohibited the sale of children by their parents after the
age of seven. In the year 816, the archbishop and bishops of the southern
province, thirteen in number, met in council at Celchyth (Chelsea), and
bound themselves by canon to free at their death every Englishman, who,
during their tenure of the lands of the bishoprics, had become a slave,
the usual causes of enslavement in time of peace being poverty or crime.
There is a canon of that council, directed against the abstraction of
monastic charters and lists of landed property, which has a very modern
sound about its title, “that monasteries be not deprived of their
telligraphs.”
We cannot close this chapter better than with Alfred’s own right royal
words. “I can assert this in all truth, that during the whole course of
my existence I have always striven to live in a becoming manner, and at
my death to leave to those who follow me a worthy memorial in my works.”
ALFRED AS WARRIOR
BY CHARLES OMAN
ALFRED AS WARRIOR
Of all the aspects of Alfred’s many-sided life there is none more
interesting, yet more baffling, than his military career. We know its
outlines: his lot fell in the direst time of storm and stress that
had ever come upon the English; he weathered the tempest which had so
sorely buffeted his father and his brothers, and steered the ship of the
state into calmer waters. We have a not inconsiderable bulk of records
concerning his campaigns, yet again and again the why and the wherefore
of triumph and defeat elude us. The all-important details which would
explain why things went ill in 872 and well in 878, why Basing saw a
disaster and Buttington a victory, are withheld. The unwearied king
marches east and marches west, now with a large army, now with a mere
handful of men; he reaches his foes and brings them to bay; then “the
heathen are put to flight,” or, on the other hand, “after great slaughter
on both sides the Danes hold possession of the place of battle”; but
whether superior tactics, or superior numbers, or superior endurance
won the day is concealed from us. It is seldom that even the most vague
and general features of the fight are narrated: of really important
engagements like Ashdown or Eddington, or the struggle on the Lea, we
know only just enough to make us desire to know more.
Fortunately we are able to make out a good deal more about the strategy
than about the tactics of Alfred’s campaigns. His itineraries are
generally preserved, and the natural features of hill and vale and marsh
and wood can easily be ascertained. Similarly there is a certain amount
to be recovered concerning his work as a military organiser, though here
our authorities give us hints rather than facts, and make it very hard to
disentangle his reforms from those of his worthy successor, Edward the
Elder.
When Alfred first looked upon the face of war, the English had been
already engaged for some seventy years in their great struggle to drive
off the Vikings, and were prospering little in the attempt. The period
during which the invaders had contented themselves with sporadic descents
on the towns and monasteries hard by the sea, was long over. They were
now cutting their way deep into England from every side, and prolonging
their stay more and more every year. While Alfred was still a child
by his mother’s knee, a yet more threatening stage had been reached:
instead of returning to their homes by the Danish and Norwegian fiords,
when autumn drew to an end, the enemy had begun to fortify some ness or
island by the English shore, and to abide there all the winter months.
The period of objectless plunder was drawing near its end, and that of
settlement and conquest was approaching.
It is not hard to make out the main causes of the ineffectiveness of
the resistance which the English kingdoms offered to the invader; they
were much the same as those which were to be seen in the Frankish
empire on the other side of the British Channel—the want of any central
organisation for combined defence—the want of any large bodies of
professional fighting-men, fully equipped with the best arms of the
day—the scarcity of fortified places—the non-existence of a war-fleet.
In respect of the first of these matters the English were in some ways
more unfortunate, in others happier, than the Franks. On the Continent
the Vikings were confronted by a vast empire which was beginning to
drop to pieces from its own weight; the realm of Charlemagne would have
split up into national kingdoms even if there had been no invaders from
outside to hasten the process. Particularism and heritage-partition
were the order of the day; it was impossible to hope that the numerous
descendants of the great Carling house would loyally aid each other
against the external enemy, or that their heterogeneous subjects would
care much for the woes of their neighbours. In England, on the other
hand, the national evolution of the times was tending towards union. Even
before the effects of the Danish invasions began to be felt, the states
of the Heptarchy were already beginning to draw together into larger
units. Offa the Mercian (755-794) had been suzerain of all England in a
far truer sense than any of the early “Bretwalda” kings that were before
him. He had annexed kingdoms like Kent, Essex, East Anglia, instead of
merely making their monarchs do him homage. These states rose again for a
short space at his death; but when Egbert won the supremacy for Wessex a
few years later, the same tendency was apparent: that great warrior was
able to incorporate the old realms of Kent and Sussex with his ancestral
dominions, nor did they ever again free themselves from dependence on
the house of Cerdic. It was clear that England was tending to group
itself into no more than three or four large states: the smaller tribal
nationalities were beginning to be absorbed in the greater. Thus, though
Egbert and his successor Ethelwulf were kings south of Thames alone, and
only enjoyed a precarious suzerainty north of it, yet there was some hope
for the future. The fatal disruptive tendencies visible among the Franks
were not paralleled on this side of the Channel.
In the second point wherein the old Christian kingdoms were at a
disadvantage when struggling with the Dane—the want of a large and
well-armed body of trained fighting-men—England was probably in a worse
condition than her continental neighbour. Both possessed two classes of
warriors—a small body of wealthy landed vassals of the king, bound to him
by special oaths of allegiance, and the general levy of the country-side,
torn from the plough when necessity demanded. The former were more
or less professional warriors: the English “_gesithcund_ man holding
land,” if he neglected his lord’s summons to join the host, forfeited
his estate and paid a crushing fine as well: the ordinary peasant, the
“ceorlish man,” only suffered pecuniary punishment for the same offence.
The _gesiths_, or _thegns_, as they were now beginning to be called, a
wealthy, well-armoured military class, were the core of the national
host. The rude masses of the half-armed country folk were a far less
efficient part of the military forces of the realm. But in England the
thegnhood does not appear in the ninth century to have reached nearly
the same stage of relative importance as had the Frankish vassals. They
would seem to have been less numerous in proportion to the size of the
states, and less powerful in the realm. As a combatant body, too, they
were inferior, for the Franks had taken to fighting on horseback, and
every vassal came to the host not only well armed, but well mounted. The
English were still fighting on foot like their ancestors: they did not,
indeed, learn cavalry service till the eleventh century. In contending
with an active and rapidly moving enemy like the Dane, this want of
horsemen was a terrible drawback to the English host.
The third source of weakness which we have named—the scarcity of
well-fortified strongholds—was felt both on this and on the other side
of the Channel. Neither Frank nor Anglo-Saxon had made any systematic
attempt to keep up the great fortresses which they had inherited from the
Romans. But here again the English were at a greater disadvantage than
their continental neighbours. They had neglected scientific fortification
even more than the Franks. They mostly dwelt in open towns and villages;
even the ancient Roman walls of great cities like London and York had
been allowed to fall into decay. At most they surrounded important
positions with a ditch and a stockade; of the building of an actual wall
we hear only at one place, the Northumbrian capital of Bamborough. The
Franks, among whom city life was far more important than in England,
seem to have done somewhat more in the way of keeping up the old Roman
_enceintes_ of their great towns. They had also taken of late to the
building of strongholds destined to hold down conquered territory.
Charlemagne had warred down the obstinate Saxons mainly by rearing line
after line of _burgs_ among their heaths and forests. No great English
king had yet tried to maintain his control over his vassal-states by such
an expedient. Even if the Frankish _burgs_ were but concentric rings of
ditch, mound, and palisade, they were by no means lacking in importance
in the day of danger.
In the matter of naval defence, on the other hand, there was more hope
for England than for her continental neighbours. The Saxons and Angles
had always been seafarers: the Franks had never taken to the water.
Neither of the nations possessed any regular war-fleet, but in the one
the national genius was favourable to its creation; in the other it was
not. We hear, indeed, long before Alfred’s day, of intermittent attempts
of English kings to do something on the seas. The most notable was the
assault on Ireland which the Northumbrian Ecgfrith made in 684. In the
days of Alfred’s own father, Ethelwulf, there was at least one endeavour
to meet the Danes upon the water: the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle tells how the
Kentish alderman Ealhere “fought in ships” at Sandwich, and “took nine
ships of the heathen, and put the rest to flight” (851). It is possible
that the same chief was engaged in a second naval battle two years
later, for in an unsuccessful attempt which he made to turn the Vikings
out of Thanet “there was much slaughter and many men _drowned_ upon both
sides.” Thanet being then separated from the Kentish mainland by a broad
estuary, it is conceivable that there was some fighting on shipboard on
this occasion also.
But any small naval resources which England possessed in the second
half of the ninth century seemed hopelessly inadequate to impose the
least check on the Danes. The invaders came in squadrons numbered by the
hundred vessels. Even after Alfred had begun to take in hand a scheme
for building a regular fleet, the English ships were only counted in
tens or scores. In our own days a power possessing some few vessels, and
expecting invasion, would turn them to use by setting them to watch for
the enemy, discover him, and give early knowledge of his approach, or
to follow his course and divine his intentions. But such tactics demand
vessels that can keep the sea for long spaces of time and in any weather.
Neither English nor Danish galleys were suited for such work: they
preferred coasting voyages, and touched the shore frequently, creeping
from cape to cape and from isle to isle. The only voyage across a broad
and open sea was that which was made when a Viking fleet ran straight
across from the southwestern cape of Norway instead of coasting along
the Danish and Frisian shore. The Scandinavians were daring seamen,
but their skill and pluck was shown rather by the way in which they
felt their way along dangerous, rock-bound coasts, like those of the
Hebrides or Western Ireland, than by passages across the high seas. For
such crossings they waited for long spells of fine weather, in order to
run the least possible risk. This was only natural, for their ships were
but long, light, undecked vessels, depending mainly on their twelve or
sixteen oars a side, and only using their sails when the wind set fair.
To face a really serious Atlantic storm they were wholly unfitted, and
even the rough weather of the Channel could be too much for them. In 877
a whole fleet of a hundred and twenty ships was wrecked near Swanage on
the cliffs of the Isle of Purbeck. It was no wonder that they preferred
to pick their weather, and to hug the shore, in order that they might run
into the nearest haven when a tempest seemed at hand. The seamanship of
the English was undoubtedly inferior to that of the Scandinavians in the
ninth century, and we may guess that in handiness as well as in numbers
they were wholly unable to vie with their enemies before Alfred’s day.
The years 840-880 were the darkest period in the dismal century of the
Viking raids. Neither in England nor on the Continent had there been
found any effective way of resisting the invaders, nor any great warrior
who could inspire his subject with the energy and courage that was needed
to face the ever-growing evil. Kings like Ethelwulf or Charles the Bald,
however good their intentions, were wholly inadequate to the task. Their
warlike sons, Louis III., the victor of Saucourt, and Ethelred, the
victor of Ashdown, were cut off in the prime of their years, just when
they were beginning to win themselves a name. The Danes went where they
would, no longer taking to their ships when the national levy came out
against them, but stockading a camp and defying the owners of the soil to
evict them from it. Almost always the assaults made on these strongholds
ended in disastrous failures: it is hard to say whether the repulse of
Charles the Bald at Givald’s Foss (852), of Ethelred at Reading (871), or
of Charles the Fat at Ashloh (882), was the more heart-breaking to the
landsfolk. It seemed impossible to burst through the bristling line of
stakes and ditch manned by the veteran axemen of the heathen bands.
The fact was that the rank and file of the Viking hosts were individually
superior to the peasant-levies that strove to overwhelm them. In a
Frankish or an English army only counts and aldermen, thegns and wealthy
vassals, wore the steel helm and the ring-mail byrnie: the masses
that followed them to the field had no more than spear and shield,
possessing no defensive armour whatever. The Vikings, on the other hand,
were professional fighting-men, armed not only with the “war-nets” that
their own smiths could make, but with the spoils of a hundred victorious
fights. It was no wonder that they could hold out against very superior
numbers of the raw, half-armed militia of the English _Fyrd_ and the
Frankish _Ban_. In the ages when personal skill with axe and sword and
trained agility of body counted for so much, one practised warrior was
worth two farmers fresh from the plough. It required a vast preponderance
of force, or a very skilled and fortunate leader, to enable the Christian
host to inflict a really crushing defeat on the invaders.
When Alfred was a child the problem seemed growing more hopeless day
by day. Even the greatest cities of Western Christendom were falling a
prey to the heathen. London had been taken and sacked in 851, Tours in
853, Paris in 857, Winchester in 860. The invading hordes, now carried
in fleets of three or four hundred sail, came ashore where they would,
seized horses in the country-side and rode across the land, plundering
far and wide, to some appointed spot to which their fleet came round and
joined them. Or they would draw their ships ashore at some convenient
estuary, set a guard over them, and send the rest of the host to make
a circular raid, which finally took them back to their camp and their
vessels. The former plan was the better, since if the ships ran out to
sea after throwing ashore the landing force, the defenders of the realm
did not know where the march of the enemy would be directed; while if the
fleet was immobilised on some ness or island, it was easy to intercept
the raiders, who were bound to make their way back to their base.
The lowest pitch of despair seemed to be reached when in many regions
rulers and people ceased to try to defend themselves against the Danes,
and merely strove to procure a precarious respite from their oppressors
by bribing them to depart and transfer their ravages to other shores.
This was done in 865 by the Kentishmen, in 866 by the East Angles, in 869
by the Mercians. Of course the expedient was futile; the news that one
Viking host had received a handsome tribute only drew down another, set
on obtaining similar booty.
Finally, there came the last step of all: not content with plunder and
blackmail the invaders began to think of taking up their permanent
residence in the land and making its unfortunate inhabitants their
subjects. The idea had already occurred to Jarl Thorgils in Ireland, but
his ephemeral kingdom had disappeared at his murder. Now it was renewed
in England in 868, after the battle of York, the most fearful disaster
which had yet befallen any of the Christian kingdoms. The Danes had
stormed the Northumbrian capital: they had slain the two rival kings,
Osbert and Ella, who combined to attack them: all the thegnhood of the
northern realm had perished. Taking up their quarters in the ancient city
of Edwin and Oswald, the conquerors began to parcel out the neighbouring
region among themselves as a permanent possession.
It was in the year after this terrible downfall of the Northern Kingdom
that Alfred made his first campaign. He was now nineteen, and had just
married his Mercian bride, Ealhswith, the daughter of Alderman Ethelred.
The enterprise in which he was engaged was one of a very typical
character—a dozen expeditions with the same unfortunate end could be
cited from the English and Frankish annals of the third quarter of the
ninth century. A large Viking host had entered Mercia and forced its way
up the Trent as far as Nottingham. King Burgred sent to Wessex to beg
the aid of his brother-in-law Ethelred, who marched to his help, taking
his brother Alfred with him as second in command. The united hosts of
the two English realms were too large for the Vikings to dare to face
them in the open field. They stockaded themselves in a great camp on the
banks of the Trent and waited to be attacked. The landsfolk laid siege
to the stronghold, and strove to storm it; but they utterly failed to
break their way in. After lying some time before it, they dispersed in
despair: Ethelred and Alfred went home: the unfortunate Burgred then
asked for terms, and got rid of the Vikings for a short space by paying
them a large tribute. The Danes returned to York, lay there for one year,
and then threw themselves upon the East Angles. They slew King Edmund,
“the Martyr,” scattered his army, sacked the towns and monasteries of
Norfolk and Suffolk, and made themselves masters of the whole realm (870).
Next year the turn of Wessex came: the Mercians had at least bought two
years of respite by the treaty of Nottingham. Marching from East Anglia
the “Grand Army” of the Vikings crossed the Thames, seized Reading, and
stockaded a great camp in the angle between the Kennet and the Thames
to serve as a base for their ravaging parties. But in spite of a dozen
disasters suffered during the last forty years at the hands of the same
enemy, the spirit of Wessex was not yet quenched. Its shire-levies
loyally answered King Ethelred’s call, and gathered in great strength
opposite the Danish camp. The Berkshire fyrd even succeeded in bringing
to bay and destroying at Englefield a large plundering party headed by a
Jarl. But the main body of the Vikings was not so easily disposed of. A
general attack on their stronghold, headed by Ethelred and Alfred, proved
wholly unfortunate. When the assailants had wearied themselves in vain
attempts to hew their way through the stockade, and drew off repulsed,
the enemy made a sudden sortie: “bursting out of the gates like wolves,”
they fell on the shattered ranks of the men of Wessex, drove them away,
and held possession of the battle spot. Thinking apparently that the
English were disposed of so far as further fighting was concerned,
the Vikings now started for a raid westward along the Thames valley:
the camps at Sinodun and Pusey, both large and formidable structures,
possibly represent their halting-places on the first and second nights of
their advance. The third day took them to Ashdown, in the “Vale of the
White Horse.” But they found there was still heavy fighting in prospect:
the untiring Ethelred and Alfred had rallied their beaten host, and were
now hanging on the invaders’ heels and making it impossible for them to
scatter after plunder. The heathen kings Halfdan and Bagsceg thereupon
determined to take the offensive, and to attack and scatter the men of
Wessex before proceeding farther with their raid. They were encamped high
on the ridge of the Berkshire Downs, while Ethelred and Alfred lay at
some distance below them.
Two such warriors as the sons of Ethelwulf were not likely to decline a
fair battle in the open. When the Danes drew up in front of their camp
in two heavy bodies, the English arrayed themselves in two corresponding
masses. It is now that we get our first concrete and personal notice of
Alfred as warrior. His brother the king, pious even to superstition as
his father had been, lingered behind in his camp hearing the mass. News
was brought him that the Danes were on the move, but he swore that he
would not leave his tent till the priest had finished the last word of
the service. Alfred meanwhile, not less pious but more practical than his
brother, was in his proper place at the head of his division. He waited
long for Ethelred, but the king came not, and meanwhile the Danes were
drawing near, moving downward in good order along the hillside. If they
struck the English host while it stood idly halted on the lower slope,
it was certain that they would bear it down by their mere impetus. Then
Alfred, taking all the responsibility upon himself, ordered the men of
Wessex to advance up the ridge. The four hostile divisions met with a
great crash on the down-side, where a single stunted thorn was long
pointed out as the actual spot of collision. The struggle was long and
fierce; but Alfred, “pushing uphill like a fierce wild boar,” broke the
Danish line, and finally the invaders gave way and fled. King Bagsceg
and five earls, two Sihtrics, Osbiorn, Fraena, and Harald were slain,
with many thousands of their men. Ethelred only arrived in time to urge
the pursuit, which was continued for two days, till King Halfdan and
the wrecks of his host succeeded in sheltering themselves behind the
palisades of their camp at Reading.
Western Christendom had won few such victories over its invaders; yet all
the fruits of the success vanished unaccountably in a few weeks. How it
came to pass we cannot say, but only fourteen days after Ashdown another
fight took place at Basing, a dozen miles south of Reading, and this time
Ethelred was defeated. Two months later the war was still lingering on
the borders of Berks and Wilts, and a battle was fought at Marton, near
Bedwyn, in which Ethelred and Alfred were thoroughly beaten, and the king
mortally wounded. He died at Eastertide, and his decease was at once
followed by his brother’s election to the throne (871).
Hitherto, save at Ashdown, it has been impossible to separate Alfred’s
doings from those of Ethelred. We may guess that much of the untiring
energy shown by the men of Wessex was due to the activity of the Etheling
rather than to that of his pious elder brother; but we can prove nothing.
When, however, Alfred begins to reign in his own right, we can at last
make him personally responsible for the conduct of the war.
At first, it must be confessed, we can detect little more than mere
courage and perseverance in the young king’s conduct. Of generalship
we find no evidence. His first battle was a disaster. The victors of
Marton, strengthened by a large new “summer-army” from over-seas, pressed
deeper into Wiltshire. Ere Alfred had been a month on the throne, he met
them near Wilton, but his army was small. The spirit of Wessex had begun
to fail after a year in which eight engagements with the invaders had
already been fought, four of which had been bloody defeats. The thegnhood
was terribly worn down in numbers, the shire-levies so discouraged that
they came to the muster in number far smaller than usual. But Alfred
nevertheless offered battle. Taking up a strong position on a hill, he
repulsed the Danes with great slaughter when they attacked him. But his
army, carried away by their ardour, charged down from its favourable
post to cut up the defeated enemy. The Vikings rallied, and turned
on their scattered pursuers, whom they finally drove from the field.
Thus inauspiciously began Alfred’s independent military career. But in
spite of their victory the Danes, who had suffered almost as much as
the English in this year of battles, consented to retire from Wessex on
receiving a moderate sum of money. Alfred paid them, though he must have
been aware that he was only buying a short respite. Time, however, was
all-valuable to a king who wished to reorganise his exhausted realm.
For the next four years (872-875) there was comparative peace in Wessex:
the enemy was employed partly on the Continent, partly in the conquest of
Mercia, whose eastern half they annexed in 874, handing over the western
part as a vassal kingdom to “an unwise thegn named Ceolwulf,” who fondly
thought that it was possible to settle down as a vassal of the greedy
Northmen. Alfred’s main endeavour in these years was to develop a navy;
he “built galleys and long-ships,” and exerted himself to find trained
crews for them, hiring “pirates”—converted Danes, we may suppose—to teach
his own men seamanship. The beginnings of this national fleet must have
been modest, for the chronicler thinks it a fact of note that the king’s
galleys were able in 875 to attack seven Viking ships, take one, and
chase the rest out to sea. Two years later, however, the squadron, as
we shall see from its doings, must have developed to a more formidable
strength.
It was not till 876 that Alfred’s reorganisation of his realm was
put to the test. In that year a great Viking host under the kings
Guthrum, Oskytel, and Amund made a sudden dash into Wessex, appeared
in Dorsetshire, and seized Wareham, where they stockaded themselves
between the Frome and the Trent in one of their usual water-girt camps.
Alfred was soon upon them with the whole levy of Wessex, and held them
so tightly blockaded—he made no attempt to storm their works after the
experience of Reading—that they asked for terms, gave hostages, swore
their greatest oath, and promised to depart. But when the king was
off his guard all that part of the host that was provided with horses
made a sudden sally, slipped through the English lines, and rode day
and night till they reached Exeter, which they took by surprise. There
they again stockaded themselves, and lay entrenched for the winter of
876-877. The indefatigable king followed them, again drew lines round
their camp, and beleaguered them till they were oppressed with famine.
They were depending for their relief on a squadron which was to run down
the Channel and join them at the mouth of the Exe; but Alfred sent his
fleet, such as it was, to intercept the incoming pirates. There was an
engagement somewhere off the south coast, from which the Danes retired
without winning a victory, and immediately after a great storm cast
their vessels on the cliffs of the Isle of Purbeck. A hundred and twenty
galleys, with all their crews, are said to have perished near Swanage.
Reduced to despair by this news, the Danes at Exeter asked for terms, and
departed for Mercia before the summer was out.
This campaign had been such a complete success for Alfred that the events
of the next year are a perfect surprise to us—as indeed they were to the
contemporary observer; “slay thirty thousand of these heathen in one
day,” says Asser, “and on the next sixty thousand will appear.” In the
first days of January 878 the main army of the Vikings, starting from
Mercia, made a sudden and unexpected descent on Wiltshire, cutting the
West-Saxon realm in twain. From a central camp at Chippenham they raided
east and west into Hampshire on the one side and Somersetshire on the
other. At the same time a separate pirate fleet which had spent its Yule
in South Wales crossed the Bristol Channel and threw itself upon North
Devon. It must have been the sudden and unexpected character of such an
attack at mid-winter which for a moment seemed to have crushed Wessex.
The king, who appears to have been in the west at the time, threw himself
into the Isle of Athelney with a small band of his thegns and personal
retainers, and there built his famous stockade in the marshes of the
Parret. Elsewhere there was panic: many men of note fled over-seas to the
Franks: large districts offered tribute and submission to the Danish king
Guthrum.
But the worst of the panic only lasted a few weeks: before Easter the
men of Devonshire rallied and cut to pieces at Kenwith the army from
South Wales, slaying its leaders, Ingwar and Hubba, and 1200 of their
followers, and capturing their famous Raven standard. Somewhat later the
levies of Somerset, Wilts, and Hampshire assembled in the forest of
Selwood under the king in person and marched against the Danish camp at
Chippenham. The invaders, thinking they were strong enough to fight in
the open, moved out to Eddington to meet the advancing English. There
they were routed in a battle of which we know no details, save that
the king’s men fought in one dense mass—not in two, as at Ashdown—and
that the fight was long and desperate. The defeated host fled to its
stronghold at Chippenham, on the east bank of the Avon. Alfred followed
hard upon them, and, pushing up to the very gates of the stockade,
built a camp almost in actual touch with it, so as to make any sortie
well-nigh impossible. The Danes were quite unprepared for a siege; they
had fondly imagined that Wessex was their own, and had accumulated no
stores. In fourteen days they were starved out, and concluded with the
king the famous pact which is often, but inaccurately, called the Peace
of Wedmore. King Guthrum and thirty of his chiefs consented to receive
baptism, did homage to Alfred, and undertook to withdraw from his realm
and to trouble him no more. These conditions, it is surprising to find,
were punctually fulfilled; the Viking became a Christian, and withdrew
his host first to Cirencester in Mercia and then to East Anglia, where
they all settled down and gave no trouble for some years. A great fleet
which had come up the Thames as far as Fulham, and had been harassing
Kent and Western Wessex, lingered some months after Guthrum’s defeat, but
gave up its enterprise in the spring of 879, sailed off eastwards, and
set itself to ravage Flanders.
The peace of 878 is rightly taken as the turning-point of Alfred’s reign.
He had so thoroughly impressed upon the Vikings the notion that in Wessex
they would meet hard blows and small plunder that for some years they
gave his realm a wide berth, and devoted their main attention to the
Frankish kingdoms, where the imbecile Charles the Fat was just about to
start upon his disgraceful career. It was more profitable to blackmail
realms whose kings shirked battles and proffered rich tribute than pay
a visit to the indefatigable ruler of Wessex. The events of 872-878 had
made Alfred thoroughly well acquainted with every wile of Danish warfare;
he was not likely again to be taken by surprise, or caught unawares
by an attack in time of truce or negotiation. In the numerous wars of
his later years he shows a mastery over his opponents which he was far
from possessing in the days of Reading or Wilton. In especial the great
struggle of 893-896, when he had to face dangers quite as complicated
and pressing as those of 872 or 878, found him so well prepared that
its issue was never seriously in doubt, though the seat of war was
perpetually shifting over every region between Kent and Chester, Essex
and Exeter.
The first occupation to which Alfred seems to have devoted himself
after the peace of 878 was the further development of his fleet. In 882
he actually went out with it in person and destroyed a small Viking
squadron. In 885 he took the more daring step of sending it northward
into hostile water. The East Anglian Danes having, after seven years of
peace, broken their pact with him, he sent a squadron from Kent all up
the Essex coast, and destroyed sixteen long-ships at the mouth of the
Stour. Unfortunately his victorious vessels were intercepted by the whole
force of the Danelagh ere they could return, and suffered a disastrous
defeat. It was not till some years later, and when his last great war on
land was over, that Alfred tried his final naval experiment, building
“long-ships that were nigh twice as large as those of the Danes, some
with sixty oars, some with more. They were both steadier and swifter, and
also higher than others, and were shaped neither as the Frisian nor the
Danish ships, but as it seemed to himself that they would be most handy.”
The natural result was the destruction of more than twenty Viking ships
along the south coast in the sole summer of 897.
The second expedient which Alfred took in hand was the systematic
construction of fortifications. Not only were the towns encouraged to
surround themselves with strong ditches and palisades, but “burhs”—moated
mounds girt with concentric rings of ditch and stockade—were erected at
strategical points. London, recovered from the East Anglian Danes in 886,
was made far stronger than it had ever been before by the patching up
of its ancient Roman walls. It was filled with a new colony of warlike
settlers, and became an outpost of Wessex to the north of the Thames. The
consequences of the fact that the larger English towns were no longer
open but well fortified are clearly seen in Alfred’s later wars. The
Danes cannot capture important places at the first rush, as they had done
with York, Winchester, and London thirty years before. They have to lay
siege to them in full form, and always before the siege is many days old
the indefatigable king appears with an army of relief. The invaders had
then either to fight, to take to their ships, or to stockade themselves
in their entrenchments and suffer a leaguer themselves. Generally
they chose the second alternative, as at Rochester in 886, when they
abandoned their horses, their stores, and all their heavy plunder, and
sailed off the moment that the army of succour came in sight. The same
scene occurred at Exeter in 894. The importance of fortified places in
keeping the Danes employed till the fyrd could assemble can hardly
be exaggerated. The only stronghold which did not serve its purpose
was a certain “work only half constructed in which there were some few
countryfolk” near Appledore in Kent. This fell before an attack of the
“Great Army” in 893.
It would seem that the system by which Alfred’s “burhs” were maintained
was not unlike that which Henry the Fowler employed in Germany a
generation later. To each stronghold there was allotted, as it would
appear, a certain number of “hides” of land in the surrounding region.
All the thegns dwelling on these hides were responsible for the defence
of the burh. Probably they were bound to build a house within it, and
either to dwell there in person, or to place therein a substitute
equally competent with themselves for military purposes. It would seem
that the “cnihten-guilds” of London and several other places were the
original associations of these military settlers whom Alfred and his
immediate successors placed in their burhs. Of the local distribution
of the fortresses we have a precious relic in the “Burgal Hidage,” a
document belonging to the very early years of the tenth century, which
gives a complete list of all the land dependent on the burhs of Wessex,
and certain materials for the regions north of Thames also, where Edward
the Elder was beginning to encroach on the Danelagh by means of his new
foundations. That the system started with Alfred rather than his son
seems to follow from two passages in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, where,
under the year 894, we hear of “the king’s thegns who were at home in the
fortresses,” and again of the fyrd being “half in the field and half at
home, beside those men that held the burhs.”
One of Alfred’s devices of fortification deserves a special mention, as
being new on this side of the Channel, though some partial precedents
for it can be found in the wars of the Franks. In 896 the main body
of the Viking invaders had concentrated at the Thames mouth, and then
pushed up the river Lea to a spot fifteen miles from London, dragging
their fleet with them. Noting the narrowness of the river, Alfred built
two formidable burhs, one on each side of the Lea, just below the Danish
camp, and then obstructed the stream—probably by palisades and floating
booms—between the two forts. The hostile fleet was so securely “bottled
up” that the Vikings had to abandon it when they moved off on land, and
the Londoners were able to bring back the whole of the galleys to their
city when the enemy was gone.
Beside the building of a fleet, and the systematic use of fortification,
we have strong evidence that Alfred employed the third means of
strengthening his realm that we indicated in the beginning of this
chapter—that of increasing the numbers of the thegnhood, the
professional military class. We are unfortunately not able to separate
his work from that of his successor, Edward the Elder; but as Alfred was
a man of far more original genius than his son, we may fairly suspect him
of being the originator of the scheme. It took the shape of enlisting
in the ranks of the thegnhood all the more wealthy and energetic of the
middle-classes both in the country-side and in the towns. Every ceorl
who “throve so that he had fully five hides of land, and a helm and a
mail-shirt, and a sword ornamented with gold,” was to be for the future
reckoned “gesithcund,” or as another law phrased it, “of thegn-right
worthy.” A second draft of the first-quoted document even allows a ceorl
who has the military equipment complete, but not fully the five hides of
land, to slip into the privileged class. The same privilege was given—as
a premium for energy among town-dwellers—to “the merchant who had fared
thrice over the high seas at his own expense.”
In return for their promotion in the social scale, ceorl and merchant
alike were of course bound to follow the king to the field in full
mail when he raised his banner, and no longer got off with the less
arduous service expected from mere members of the shire-levy. We cannot
doubt that such measures caused a large increase in the numbers of the
thegnhood, and thereby provided the king with a more efficient and
better armed core for the national host than his predecessors had ever
possessed.
The campaigns against Hasting and the “Great Army” in 893-896 give,
as we have already said, the best test of the efficiency of Alfred’s
reorganisation of his realm. The invaders came ashore in two places,
Appledore in Kent and Milton by the Thames mouth. Each host found itself
at once observed by a strong force, and unable to disperse for plunder.
The king “encamped as near to them as he had room for the wood-fastnesses
and the water-fastnesses, so that he might reach either if they might
seek a field. Then they tried to go through the weald in troops, on
whichever side there might not be a force. But each troop was sought out
by a band from the king’s host, and also from the burhs.” At last the
whole host at Appledore broke up and tried to march northward. Alfred
stopped them at Farnham, took all their baggage, and drove them in
disorder over the Thames. The survivors joined part of Hasting’s army
at Benfleet in Essex: the pirate king himself was absent with the rest.
Following hard on their heels, the English stormed the camp, captured
Hasting’s wife and sons, and took a vast booty. But Alfred was not in
person with this army: a third Viking host of a hundred ships had laid
siege to Exeter, and he had flown westward to deal with it. On his
approach the Vikings took to their ships and sailed up to the Channel
and round the North Foreland to Shoeburyness in Essex, where they picked
up the remnants of the force that had been routed at Benfleet, and some
other reinforcements from the East Anglian Danes. Swelled to a large host
by these accretions, the army that had failed at Exeter marched across
Southern Mercia to the Severn, and “wrought a work” at Buttington.[23]
Here they were at once beset by Alfred’s son-in-law and most faithful
servant, Ethelred Alderman of the Hwiccas, who had with him the levies
of Somerset, Wilts, Gloucester, and Worcester. Expelled by him from the
Severn valley, the Vikings retired to their kinsmen in Eastern England.
There they again gathered reinforcements, and returning to the west,
seized the empty walls of Chester—desolate since Ethelfrith had sacked
the old Roman town in 606—and tried to establish themselves there. But
again they had no rest: the forces of English Mercia, aided by the kings
of North Wales, laid siege to the place. Starvation finally compelled the
Vikings to abandon it. They went back through the friendly territory of
their Northumbrian kinsmen, and returned to East Anglia (895). Their last
effort was made in the following year, and consisted in the advance up
the Thames and Lea which we have already had occasion to describe. There
King Alfred assailed them in person, and captured their fleet by the
device of blocking the river by his two burhs. Deprived of their vessels
the Danes made their last march: pressing overland, they for the second
time entered the Severn valley and “wrought a work” at Quatbridge.[24]
Alfred followed them with the bulk of his host, and lay opposite them
as the winter set in. It was impossible to get away from this untiring
pursuer, and in the next spring the “Great Army” broke up in despair:
“some returned to East Anglia and some to Northumbria, and those that
were moneyless got themselves ships and went south over sea to the Seine.
Thanks be to God, the army had not broken up the English race” (896).
These splendid campaigns, known to us, alas! only in outline, are the
finest testimony to Alfred’s powers of organisation that could be given.
Wherever the Vikings appeared they were at once met by a sufficient force
and held in check. Their strong camps could not defend them as of old:
sometimes the palisades were stormed, sometimes blockade did the work,
and the host had to depart in order to save itself from starvation.
Three years of perpetual disaster tired out at last even the obstinacy
of the battle-loving Northmen. They dispersed and sought other scenes of
activity and enemies less formidable than the great king of Wessex.
For the last four years of his life Alfred was undisturbed save by
trifling raids of small squadrons, which he brushed off with ease by
means of the new fleet of “great ships” which he had built. The work
of defence was done: Wessex was saved, and with Wessex the English
nationality. In a few years the king’s gallant son, Edward the Elder, was
to take the offensive against the old enemy, and to repay on the Danelagh
all the evils that England had suffered during the miserable years of the
ninth century. That such triumphs lay within his power was absolutely
and entirely the work of his great father, who had turned defeat into
victory, brought order out of chaos, and left the torn and riven kingdom
that he had inherited transformed into the best organised and most
powerful state in Western Europe.
ALFRED AS A GEOGRAPHER
BY SIR CLEMENTS MARKHAM
ALFRED AS A GEOGRAPHER
The single-minded devotion of King Alfred to the service of his people is
shown in every action of his life; and one of the greatest, certainly the
most remarkable undertaking for that end, was the conveyance of knowledge
to them in their own language, through paraphrased translations. It was
thus that he strove to disseminate some acquaintance with theology, moral
philosophy, history, and geography. It is a very striking and suggestive
fact that a ruler who surpassed all others that the world has ever seen
in wisdom and insight, as well as in complete abnegation of every selfish
thought in his dealings with his people, should have given so high a
place to geography. Alfred knew by experience that an acquaintance with
the relative positions of places on the earth’s surface was the necessary
foundation of the kind of knowledge required equally by the statesman,
the soldier, and the merchant; and he therefore gave its due place to
geography in his grand scheme for the enlightenment of Englishmen. In
this he was centuries in advance of his age, and even now the standard in
this, as in other respects, is below that of the wisest of our kings.
Alfred, as was his wont, when he had resolved to bring knowledge on any
particular subject within the reach of his people, diligently sought out
the best authority on geography. Ptolemy, Strabo, and Pliny were unknown
to his generation, still hidden away in dark repositories and not to be
unearthed until the dawn of the Renaissance. In the ninth century the
best geographical work was that of Paulus Orosius, who had lived in the
days of the Emperor Honorius. He was a native of Tarragona in Spain,
and took orders in the Christian church. Perplexed by the controversies
in his own country, the young Spanish deacon undertook a voyage to
Africa, to receive the solution of his doubts from the famous Bishop of
Hippo. Orosius secured the friendship of St. Augustine, who sent him to
Palestine on two occasions before A.D. 416, and gave him opportunities
for study. The result was a work intended to refute the pagan opinion
that the sack of Rome by Alaric was due to the anger of the ancient
gods. It, however, contained much more than mere polemics, and was in
fact a summary of the world’s history from the creation to the days of
Honorius, with a sketch of all that was then known of geography.
Alfred brought high qualifications to the task of translating and editing
Orosius.[25] In his boyhood he had twice made journeys to Rome, which,
as regards danger and hardships, may be compared to an expedition to
Lhasa at the present day. In after life he had become very intimately
acquainted with the topography of his native island, from the Humber
to the shores of the Channel, and from the Severn to the East Anglian
coast. As a military tactician he knew each river, valley, hill range,
and plain; as an administrator he had examined the capabilities of every
district; and as a naval commander, the harbours and estuaries, the tides
and currents were familiar to him. So far as his personal knowledge
extended, Alfred was a trained geographer. He was also in a position to
increase the information derived from his own personal experiences by
diligently collecting materials from those foreigners who frequented his
court, and by reading. He had the gift of assimilating the knowledge thus
acquired, and he studied most diligently. Above all, he was eager to
investigate unknown things for the great end he always had in view—the
good of his people.
Alfred’s design was to collect the best and most extensive geographical
information, without confining himself to the text of Orosius. Thus he
commences his geographical work with a very lucid account of the peoples
of central Europe and of their relative positions, which is not in the
work of Orosius, but was composed by the king himself from his own
sources of information. It is the only account from which such details in
that age can be derived.
The East Franks, he tells us, were established east of the Rhine and
north of the source of the Danube. The Swabians were to the south and
beyond the Danube, while the Bavarians were farther east round the
town of Ratisbon, both peoples occupying the country up to the foot
of the Alps. East of the Bavarians was Bohemia, and to the north-east
was Thuringia. Turning to the north of Germany the king places the old
Saxons round the mouth of the Elbe, and the Frisians farther west. North
of the Elbe were the Angles, who nearly all came to people England, and
the Danes on the mainland and in the island of Zeeland. King Alfred then
gives some details respecting the Slavonic tribes in the eastern part of
Germany. The Afdrede were established in what is now Mecklenburg, and
the Wylte in that part of the mark of Brandenburg then called Hæfeldan.
The Sysyle were in a part of Eastern Prussia then known as Wineda-land.
Eastward from the countries of the Bohemians and Bavarians were the
Moravians; and to the south, beyond the Danube again, and extending to
the Alps, was Carinthia. A desert, by which the Karst may be intended,
extended between Carinthia and the land of the Bulgarians, beyond which
was the Byzantine empire. To the east of Moravia was Wisl-land, the
region watered by the Vistula, Dalamensan, Horithi, and Surpe. These
Slavonic peoples occupied Poland, and to the north-east was Sermende, the
modern Livonia.
Having given the relative positions of the peoples inhabiting central
Europe, King Alfred turns to the north, and takes us to the countries
bordering on the British sea and the Baltic, or Ost-sæ as he calls
it. The north Danes were then in the provinces of Halland and Scania,
now part of Sweden, as well as in the islands. To the eastward were
the Afdrede already mentioned as occupying Mecklenburg, the Burgendas
apparently on the island of Bornholm, and Osti or Easterlings, a Finnish
race, inhabited Esthonia. On the Scandinavian peninsula were the Sweon
or Swedes, the Northmen, and the Scride-Finnas or “striding Finns.” Far
to the north, between the Gulf of Bothnia and the Arctic Sea, including
Finmarken, was the waste country called Cwenland.
Having given this most valuable summary of the inhabitants of Central and
Northern Europe during the ninth century, King Alfred proceeds to relate
the particulars of two important voyages made by distinguished seamen who
had come to his court and recited their adventures to him. The first was
an influential Northman or Norwegian named Oht-here, or in old Norwegian,
Ottar. The name is derived from the two words _oht_ (dread or fear) and
_hær_ or _here_ (an army), _hærmand_, a warrior. The right meaning of
Oht-here is, therefore, “terror-causing warrior.” This able navigator
“told his Lord King Alfred that he dwelt northmost of all Northmen, on
the land by the west sea.” The district in which he dwelt was called
Halgoland, the land of fire, or more probably “the land of the northern
lights.” Oht-here’s home has been placed on the shores of Lerivik Sound,
between the Island of Senjen and the mainland. “He said no man abode
north of him. He was a wealthy man in those possessions in which their
wealth consists,” possessing 600 tame reindeer of his own breeding, 20
horned cattle, as many sheep and swine, and horses with which he ploughed
a small extent of tilled land. But his revenues were chiefly derived from
tribute paid to him by the Laplanders, called Finns by the Norwegians, in
furs and skins, birds’ feathers, whalebone, and ropes made from walrus
hide. Oht-here called his country Northweg (Norway), and described it as
being very long and narrow, with all the pasture and culturable land near
the sea, which, however, is very rocky in some places. Inland, he said
that there were high mountains, and farther to the eastward were Sweden
in the south and Cwenland in the north. He added that to the north of
Halgoland the country was waste and desert, except in a few places, where
the Laplanders were encamped for hunting, or on the sea-coast for fishing
in the summer.
Oht-here was evidently a man of high position and great influence, one
who was worthy of the friendship and confidence of King Alfred. He was
inspired by the noble desire for Arctic exploration and discovery, or,
as he expressed himself to the king, he desired to find out how the land
lay far to the north. So he undertook a most adventurous voyage to the
northward, coasting along the land, keeping the wild, rocky coast on his
starboard side and the wide Arctic Sea on what he called his _bæc-bord_.
Continuing this course for three days, he passed beyond the most northern
point to which the whale-hunters ever went in those days. Still pressing
onwards, he attained the most northern point ever reached by man, in
about 71° 15′ N. The land then trended eastward, and, after waiting a
short time for a westerly wind, he shaped a course along the coast to the
eastward until he reached the entrance of the White Sea on the fourth
day. Here he waited for a northerly breeze, which enabled him to coast
round the Kola peninsula to the mouth of the Varzuga river, and thus to
discover the White Sea. Here he stopped owing to fear of hostilities from
the natives beyond. These were the North Carelians, on the western coast
of the White Sea. Oht-here calls them Beormas, and says that they had a
well-peopled land.
Oht-here’s discoveries included the whole of the Arctic coast of
Finmarken and the shores of the White Sea as far as the mouth of the
Varzuga. He was the first to double the North Cape, and Oht-here’s
farthest north held its ground for nearly seven hundred years, until the
voyage of Willoughby and Chancellor in 1553.
Oht-here calls the country between the Gulf of Bothnia and the Arctic
Sea, Terfinna land, _Ter_ being the ancient name of the Kola peninsula.
Terfinna therefore means the Finns in Ter. He describes it as entirely
waste and uninhabited, except where the Laplanders were encamped for
hunting or fishing. He was told many tales respecting their country by
the Beormas, but King Alfred did not record them, because they were only
from hearsay, and not things the explorer could testify to from personal
knowledge. Besides discovery, another object of Oht-here’s voyage was
the capture of walrus, for the sake of their hides and tusks. He calls
the walrus a horse whale, but says that it is much smaller than other
whales; thus correctly including whales, usually supposed to be fish in
ancient times, under the head of mammalia, by classing them with the
walrus. The length of a walrus is given, with approximate accuracy, at
14 feet. Oht-here told King Alfred that the great whales were from 96 to
100 feet long, and that the best whale-hunting was off his own country
of Halgoland. The skill and energy of those old Norsemen must have been
most remarkable, for Oht-here says that his was one of six vessels which
killed sixty whales in two days. The ships must have had very large
crews, and a considerable number of boats for each ship, to have achieved
such an unequalled feat, probably without a rival in the whole history of
whaling. But it is more likely that Oht-here alluded to walrus or “horse
whales.”
Oht-here also described to the king a voyage to the south from Halgoland,
along the coast of Norway, to Denmark and Slesvig. He said that with a
fair wind, and anchoring each night, the voyage from Halgoland to a port
he calls Sciringesheal, might be made in a month. Sciringesheal is in
old Norwegian _Scirings-salr_, which, in the ninth century, was a town
on the shores of a small bay in Larviks-fjord, called Viks-fjord. In
the English of Alfred the termination _salr_ (a large room) is changed
into _heal_ (a hall). On the _bæc-bord_ is Norway, and on the starboard
side is Iraland and other islands. He then describes a great sea running
inland, the Kattegat and the Baltic, with Jutland and Zeeland on the
other side. The Baltic, he adds, runs several hundred miles up into the
land. Oht-here sailed from Sciringesheal southwards, through the Danish
islands to the coast of Slesvig, and reached the port of Haddeby. Alfred
adds the interesting fact that the Angles dwelt in these lands round
Haddeby before they came into England.
Oht-here made a present of walrus ivory to King Alfred; but he was not
the only adventurous seaman who brought welcome information to the king.
A Dane named Wulfstan gave him an account of a voyage in the Baltic from
Haddeby to Truso, in what is now Eastern Prussia, and described to him
the manners and customs of the people he visited.
Haddeby, mentioned both by Oht-here and Wulfstan, was no doubt an
important trading port in the ninth century. The word, as given by
Alfred, is _æt Hæthum_, meaning “at the Heaths.” “The town at the heaths”
is the same as Hedeby or Haddeby, the ancient name of Slesvig. It is
now a pretty little village, with a very ancient granite church, on
the banks of the river Schley, just opposite the more recent town of
Slesvig. Wulfstan made the voyage from Haddeby to Truso in seven days.
He had the Danish islands on the _bæc-bord_, and the land of the Wends,
now Mecklenburg, and Pomerania on his starboard side; then the Swedish
provinces of Bleking and Smaland, and the isles of Bornholm, Öland,
and Gothland, to the north; and the mouth of the Vistula to the south.
Wulfstan finished his voyage by entering the inland sea, called Frische
Haff, by a narrow strait, and going up the Elbing river to the town of
Truso on the Drausen lake in East Prussia.
Wulfstan gave a very full account of this country of Estum or Esthonia
to King Alfred. There are kings in every town, he says, and the richer
folk drink mare’s milk (probably the fermented _kumiss_ made from milk),
while the poor people drink mead. The custom of treating their dead is to
keep the bodies preserved in ice for a long time before they are burnt,
during which there is drinking and festivities. The dead man’s property
is then divided into several lots, and placed along a course to be raced
for, so that swift horses become uncommonly dear. King Alfred was also
much struck by Wulfstan’s account of the way in which the Esthonians
could produce cold, both for preserving the dead during the period of
festivities, and for icing their liquors.
In recording the information received from his two sailor visitors,
Oht-here and Wulfstan, the clearness and perspicacity of the narrative,
and the rejection of all hearsay evidence, show that King Alfred was
most careful and conscientious, anxious to secure accuracy, and only
to present to his people what was reliable. The voyages themselves are
interesting, because they prove that, although the seas were alive with
the piratical fleets of Rolf the Ganger, Hasting, and many other warriors
bent only on pillage and rapine, there were at the same time peaceful
ventures and even expeditions of discovery.
The first voyage of Oht-here is memorable as the first Arctic expedition
undertaken for the sake of discovery and exploration. There is nothing
to show that it was undertaken under the auspices, or even with the
knowledge, of Alfred. But it is certain that it received the cordial
approval of our great king, and that its motives had the sympathy and
appreciation of one who, in regenerating the navy of England, knew well
that such training was of vital importance to a naval power. The welcome
he extended to his Arctic visitor, and the care with which he elicited
his information and recorded it, leave no doubt of what Alfred’s feelings
were upon this subject. When it is remembered that Alfred the Great
rebuilt the English navy from his own designs, improving upon the lines
of Danish and Norse ships, it ought not to be forgotten, in the same
connection, how highly he valued the work of Arctic exploration. He at
least knew that a training in deeds of seaman-like daring and adventure
is as important as the building of ships for securing and maintaining
power on the sea. We have no further knowledge of the personal
intercourse between the first Arctic explorer and “his Lord King Alfred.”
He was cordially received at the English court, he presented the king
with an offering of walrus ivory, and there must have been conversations
in the course of which the king received and sifted the evidence of his
guest, until he was able to record the lucid and accurate narrative which
has been preserved and handed down to us.
After recording the events of the voyages of Oht-here and Wulfstan, King
Alfred returns to the text of Orosius, where the geography of Greece and
the islands is discussed, as well as that of the countries on the shores
of the Adriatic. Thence Orosius passes to Italy, France, and Spain; and
in the latter country Cadiz and Betanzos in Galicia are mentioned. France
was personally known to Alfred, who had visited the court of Charles the
Bald, but he gives no reminiscence of his journeys. Nearly all Spain
was then under the enlightened rule of the powerful western Khalifas
Almondhir and Abdallah, while the Christian kings of Oviedo fought
to maintain a struggling existence in the mountains of Asturias. Even
Leon was not occupied by them until after the death of Alfred. In his
reference to Britain and the surrounding islands, including the Orkneys,
there is an allusion to “the uttermost land that men call Thule,”
north-west of Ireland. Alfred held it to be Iceland, apparently.
Africa is then treated of, with rather more fulness. The positions of
Egypt and Libya Cyrenaica, of the Nasamones, near the Syrtis Major, of
Numidia, Mauritania, and the Atlas Mountains, are laid down; and after a
passage where Orosius remarks on the ingratitude of the Egyptians to the
memory of Joseph, King Alfred inserts an interesting reflection of his
own: “So also it is still in all the world. If God for a very long time
grants any one his will, and he then takes it away for a less time, he
soon forgets the good which he had before, and thinks only upon the evil
which he then hath.”
The concluding part of the work refers to the Mediterranean islands.
Sicily is described with its three points, Pelorus, Pachynum, and
Lilybæum; but there is a serious mistake as regards its size, perhaps
due to an error in transcription. Finally, there are notices of Scythia
and Bactria, of Arabia and India, of Palestine and the Jordan, and of
Cilicia, Isauria, and other places in Asia Minor, this part being from
the text of Orosius. Africa seems to have been conceived to be a long,
narrow continent, smaller than Europe, with no very great extension
towards the south.
When we consider the ignorance which prevailed in England before Alfred’s
time, we can form an idea of the immense importance of his geographical
labours and of the brightness of the light with which he dispelled outer
darkness in the minds of his countrymen. His work was more especially
useful in his own time, owing to the intercourse he encouraged with
foreign lands, and to the frequent missions he despatched and received.
Every year there was intercourse with Rome, when the alms for St. Peter
were despatched, generally in charge of an alderman or a dignitary
of the Church. Embassies were received from Germany and the northern
countries, from France, and probably from the Emperor Leo the Philosopher
at Constantinople, and from the great western Khalifa at Cordova. King
Alfred even despatched a mission to India, at the head of which was
Sighelm or Suithelm, the Bishop of Sherburn. In those days there were
native dynasties at the principal seats of Hindu civilisation. The Chohan
kings were reigning at Delhi and Ajmir. At Ujjayana the Malwa Rajas held
a brilliant court, where literature flourished, and where Kalidasa and
his school reached the highest flights of poetic imagination. At Madura,
in Southern India, was the cultured Pandyon dynasty. It is probable that
the visit of King Alfred’s envoy was to the Pandyon King of Madura, for
his instructions were to seek out the shrine of St. Thomas, which has
traditionally been placed on the Coromandel coast. It is recorded that
the Bishop of Sherburn returned safely to England, bringing back with him
gems and other products of a country which was destined, in after ages,
to become the brightest gem in the diadem of the descendants of Alfred
the Great.
Both through his promotion of intercourse with distant lands and through
his literary work, our great king enlightened his people by disseminating
geographical knowledge. The first to encourage Arctic exploration, the
first to point the way to eastern trade by the Baltic, the first to open
communication with India, his literary labours in the cause of geography
are even more astonishing. There have been literary sovereigns since
the days of Timæus of Sicily, writing for their own glory or for their
own edification or amusement. Alfred alone wrote with the sole object
of his people’s good; while in his methods, in his scientific accuracy,
and in his aims, he was several centuries in advance of his time. After
his death there was a dreary waste of ignorance, with scarcely even a
sign of dawn on the distant horizon. A few Englishmen of ability, such
as Roger Bacon and Sacrobosco, speculated and wrote on questions “_de
sphærâ_,” but there was no practical geography until Eden and Hakluyt
rose up, nearly seven centuries after the death of our great king.
Richard Hakluyt was indebted to Alfred for portions of his work, and he
resembled his illustrious precursor somewhat in his zeal, his patriotism,
and his diligence. Hakluyt was, however, far behind Alfred in scientific
precision and insight, although he lived so long afterwards, with seven
more centuries of experience to guide him. Even now men of learning and
research have their admiration aroused at the accuracy of King Alfred’s
descriptions, and at the pains he must have taken to reject what was
doubtful and to retain only what was true. This called for the exercise
of ability of a high order, as well as patience.
Alfred the Great was, in the truest sense of the term, a man of science;
and we hail him as one who stands alone and unrivalled—the founder of the
science of geography in this country.
ALFRED AS A WRITER
BY REV. PROFESSOR EARLE
ALFRED AS A WRITER
Our estimate of the literary achievements of King Alfred will depend very
much upon what we are in the habit of thinking about his early education.
If we are content to accept the story in Asser, that he had reached his
twelfth year before he had learned to read, then we must reckon his
literary career as a prodigy, a phenomenon which defies explanation.
Or, if that will not satisfy us, we may liken him to his grandfather’s
contemporary the great Charles, who, being illiterate, knew the value
of learning, and surrounded himself with learned men. On this theory it
would follow that the writings of King Alfred are his only in that sense
in which all works and monuments are said to belong to the king who has
ordered them and paid for them. He who refuses to be satisfied with
either of these alternatives can hardly fail to question the story about
Alfred and the picture-book.
The Saxon Chronicle says that Alfred was sent to Rome in the year 853,
at which time he was a little boy. This statement naturally suggests that
he was sent to reside at the English College in Rome for the benefit of
his education. But this is blurred in Asser by the further statement that
he went to Rome a second time in the very next year; which has the effect
of reducing his travels to mere excursions. The second journey to Rome is
not in the Chronicle, and it looks rather like an artifice, designed to
parry the natural inference that the journey to Rome was for a prolonged
and educational residence. Perhaps the author of “Asser’s Life” was
minded to make his hero a prodigy, and to this end the picture-book story
must by all means be protected and maintained. These variations had the
effect of shaking the credibility of the narrative, and raising doubts
as to whether Alfred ever went to Rome at all. The statement in the
Chronicle got involved in that cloud of unreality which overshadows so
much of Alfred’s history.
Happily this particular point is now quite cleared up. A letter has been
discovered, written by Leo IV., the reigning Pope in the year 853, and
addressed to King Æthelwulf, the father of Alfred, announcing the safe
arrival of the boy. This discovery has added a new confirmation to the
Chronicle, and has established it once for all as a firm historical fact,
that Alfred was sent to Rome in the year 853. If now we interpret this
step in the most natural manner, as designed by his father to send the
child out of the way in dangerous times, and to occupy his tender years
with liberal studies, we find the course of Alfred’s literary development
well and reasonably accounted for. Indeed, it seems in every way most
probable that Alfred enjoyed the best opportunities for study that the
times afforded, and that he used them so far as was compatible with the
vocation of a warrior. How many years he spent in Rome is not known; in
the reign of Æthered he was at home and he made a conspicuous military
figure while yet in his teens, and this seems to indicate that he had
never in his book-learning forgotten that he would have to fight for his
country against the northern invaders.
The first seven years of his own reign (871-878) were years of deadly
struggle. In 877 his cause seemed to be lost, but in 878 the King of
Wessex was victorious. He made peace with the conquered Danes, and
their king, Guthrum, was baptized. And now he had to guide in peace the
nation which he had guided in war. He had to reconstruct the social and
political fabric which had been shattered by the devastations and panics
of three generations. In all his reconstruction there is manifested a
purpose not only of restoration, but also of improvement and reform. This
is conspicuous in his revision of the West Saxon Laws. The Law-book then
in use was that of King Ina (688-726). When Alfred’s code was published,
that of Ina was not abolished, but it was re-edited in the same volume,
after the manner of an appendix to Alfred’s Laws. That a new departure
was purposed is indicated by the new feature of a Prologue composed
of the Decalogue and kindred selections from Scripture. This is to be
understood partly as a consecration of the new Law-book; but further, as
the inauguration of a new principle, namely, that laws are founded in
right reason and have their highest sanction in religion. Before Alfred’s
time laws had rested upon tradition, deriving their force from the fact
that they were ancestral, or if reasoned at all were based upon a stunted
and barbaric type of reasoning. We happen to have an extant example in
which we can compare a law of Ina’s with Alfred’s reform of it. In the
case of damage to a wood, the old law drew a distinction between injury
by fire and injury by the axe, and that by fire was punished far more
heavily than the other, for this assigned reason—that fire is a thief and
works silently, whereas the axe announces itself.
“In case any one burn a tree in a wood, and it come to light who did it,
let him pay the full penalty, let him give sixty shillings, because fire
is a thief. If one fell in a wood ever so many trees, and it be found out
afterwards, let him pay for three trees, each with thirty shillings.
He is not required to pay for more of them, however many they might be,
because the axe is a reporter and not a thief (forðon seo æsc biþ melda,
nalles ðeof).”
This contrast could be retorted: for it might be urged that if fire is a
thief relatively to the owner of the wood, so is it also relatively to
the defendant, for it had started up afresh when he had left the place
thinking that all was safe. The worst that could be proved upon him
was the want of _sufficient_ caution. In fact, the law is only good as
against arson, wanton or malicious; and for that case it is not severe
enough. It may be assumed that in the bulk of cases damage by fire would
be undesigned and accidental.
But where the axe is used there can be no doubt about the motive. The man
who fells another man’s timber does so plainly with intent to steal, and
the noise of the axe is not extenuating but rather aggravating by reason
of its audacity.
In Ina’s law all such considerations were prevented by two venerable
maxims which said, “Fire is a thief, but the axe is outspoken.” Jacob
Grimm, in his _Antiquities of Law_, produced some parallels from old
German codes, but he gave the palm to this of ours for its poetic tinge.
Moreover, as an indication of the national instinct which is favourable
to whatever is open and straightforward, it may be interesting; but the
distinction was bad as law, and it was abolished by King Alfred. His new
law equalised the penalty thus: “If a man burn or hew another man’s wood
without leave, let him pay for every great tree with five shillings, and
afterwards for each, let there be ever so many, with five pence;—and a
fine of thirty shillings.”
The closing words of the king’s Prologue are as follows:—
“I, Alfred the King, gathered these (laws) together and ordered many
to be written which our forefathers held, such as I approved, and many
which I approved not I rejected, and had other ordinances enacted with
the counsel of my Witan; for I dared not venture to set much of my own
upon the statute-book, for I knew not what might be approved by those who
should come after us. But such ordinances as I found, either in the time
of my kinsman Ina, or of Offa, King of the Mercians, or of Ethelberht,
who first received baptism in England—such as seemed to me rightest I
have collected here, and the rest I have let drop.
“I, then, Alfred, King of the West Saxons, showed these laws to all my
Witan, and they then said that they all approved of them as proper to be
holden.”
[Illustration: THE SEASONS—JULY TO SEPTEMBER
(_Cottonian Library_)]
The same spirit of improvement and vigorous initiative is manifested in
his famous translations. Either by his own knowledge or by the good
advice which he knew how to obtain and appreciate, he selected from the
books then accessible those which were calculated to be most generally
useful to his people. The chief books were five, the productions of four
authors: one by Orosius, written about A.D. 412; one by Boethius, of
about A.D. 522; two by Gregory the Great, written towards A.D. 600; and
one by the Venerable Bede, which was brought to a close in the year 731.
It may be useful to add a few particulars about each of the works which
appear to have constituted the select library of King Alfred.
Orosius was a young priest who came out of Spain into Africa to visit
Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, at the time when that Father of the Latin
Church was writing his greatest work, which he entitled the _City of
God_. The occasion for this work arose out of the sack of Rome by Alaric
the Goth in the year 410. A great outcry was made by the pagans against
Christianity, as if it had been the cause of calamities which they
attributed to the displeasure of the ancient gods for their neglected
altars. In his _City of God_, which was conceived as an answer to this
charge, Augustine constructed his argument upon a broad view of human
history, urging that events must not be interpreted in an isolated
manner, but must be taken with their connection and sequence; and then we
shall discern signs of a great providential purpose guiding mankind in a
progressive course of amelioration. The old dispensation prepared men for
a fuller revelation, and the spread of Christianity has brought manifest
improvement in the condition of human life. The heathen empires of the
world, as Babylon in the East and Rome in the West, have been active
though unconscious factors in this vast and beneficent process. The book
is in fact a philosophy of history, with the Gospel for its pivot, and
all events subordinated to this master principle. The thesis is developed
with an extraordinary wealth of reasoning and illustration. To make this
great argument the more complete, Orosius undertook, at Augustine’s
request, to write a compendium of general history in the same spirit,
and accordingly he loses no opportunity of showing up the calamities of
the old heathen times, and indicating the tendency of Christianity to
mitigate the horrors of war. This book of Orosius became the recognised
manual of general history down to the sixteenth century.
The _Consolation of Philosophy_ by Boethius was the chief if not the
sole representative of the philosophy, the ethics, and the religious
aspirations of the ancients during the Dark and early Middle Ages. The
author is thus introduced by Gibbon: “The senator Boethius is the last
of the Romans whom Cato or Tully could have acknowledged for their
countryman.” Suspected by Theodoric, the Gothic King of Italy, of the
crime of Roman patriotism, he was cast into prison, and a sentence
of confiscation and death was pronounced against him, while he was
denied the means of making his defence. Chained and in view of death he
composed the _Consolation of Philosophy_, of which Gibbon says: “A golden
volume, not unworthy of the leisure of Plato or Tully, but which claims
incomparable merit from the barbarism of the times and the situation of
the author.”[26]
Gregory the Great, who in A.D. 597 sent Augustine with his missionary
band to the King of Kent, is a name which through the whole extent of
Anglo-Saxon literature is mentioned with a peculiar veneration. From his
writings the king took two books to be included in his library of English
translations. The first was his _Pastoral Care_ (_Cura Pastoralis_), a
guide-book for the use of the priest, to instruct the consciences of
those who come to him for spiritual counsel; and as it is the first,
so it may safely be pronounced the best of all manuals of the kind.
Gregory’s ideal is a world governed by conscience, and the spirit of the
_Cura Pastoralis_ would transform all men into worthy citizens of such a
polity.
The other book of Gregory’s which Alfred took was of a different kind.
The _Dialogues_ are stories of a sensational or even grotesque character,
with a religious moral. They are calculated for a childish level of
intelligence, and were designed to compete with the degrading tales which
were the entertainment of barbarian circles. This book, which enjoyed the
highest popularity for centuries, and was among the earliest books to be
printed, is now entirely neglected, and Alfred’s translation has not yet
been edited.
Bede was born in the neighbourhood of Wearmouth in 672. In his seventh
year he entered the abbey recently founded there by Benedict Biscop, who
was the first abbot. In that and the sister house of Jarrow he continued
to his death in 735. He wrote _Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum_,
the History of the Conversion of the Angles and Saxons and of their
Earliest Ecclesiastical Institutions. No other national church possesses
a history of equal merit.[27] This was the youngest book on Alfred’s
list, and as Orosius was, what Pauli calls it,[28] a Chronicle of the
World, so this was a History of England.
I have thus endeavoured to give some idea of the books chosen by Alfred,
as regards their rank and place in general literature. Our next step
is to consider how Alfred dealt with these books and what he made of
them. In his mind the translator’s function was not to reproduce an
ancient author, but to produce a useful work. How he treated Orosius may
readily be seen by any one who will examine the latest edition of the
translation, that by Dr. Sweet (Early English Text Society). He hit upon
the admirable plan of printing opposite the translation the corresponding
portions of the Latin text, using italics for such parts of the original
as are not literally translated. How great was the freedom of adaptation
is promptly seen by the swarms of italics with which the Latin pages are
bespangled. Besides these adaptations there are substantial additions in
the shape of original contributions by King Alfred to the knowledge of
European geography. First there is a map-like description of the nations
of Central and Northern Europe, which are comprised under the name of
Germania. The author begins with a sketch of his area: by east and west,
from the Don to the sea about Britain; by north and south, from the
Danube and Euxine to the White Sea. Coming to details, he starts with the
East Franks (whose land-mark and memorial now lives in Frankfort), and
with these East Franks for a centre he gives the relative positions of
Swabians, Bavarians, Bohemians, and Thuringians, to the north of whom lie
the Old Saxons, who are bounded on the west by Elbe-mouth and Friesland.
From this point the Old Saxons become the pivot of the description.
This new piece of geographical literature is followed by two narratives
of northern voyagers: Oht-here, who had explored the coast of Norway from
where is now Christiania to far round the North Cape; and Wulfstan, who
explored the southern coasts of the Baltic, and describes the strange
customs of the Esthonians.
These three pieces taken together constitute one homologous group of
ninth-century geography, which fully justifies Reinhold Pauli’s estimate,
that the “Germania” of Alfred is more extensive and better defined than
the “Germania” of Tacitus.
Besides this large insertion there are several smaller ones in the
course of the work, and these may easily be found by observing where
blanks occur on the Latin page of Dr. Sweet’s edition. Where Orosius
tells how M. Fabius refused a Triumph when it was offered to him by
the Senate, the translator inserts two paragraphs, one describing a
Roman Triumph, and the other relating the origin and functions of the
Roman Senate. In Cæsar’s invasion of Britain, where Orosius tells how he
reached the river Thames, which (says he) is fordable in one place only;
the translator adds that the ford is now called Wallingford. In such
occasional insertions we see the beginnings of that vast apparatus of
modern learning which is now relegated to footnotes or to separate books
of reference.
The conditions under which Boethius produced that unique work _The
Consolation of Philosophy_ may have tended to give the book a special
attraction for the mind of the trouble-tossed king. He certainly seems
to have made great use of the book as a text for his own reflections and
meditations. “For although King Alfred professed to translate the work
of Boethius, yet he inserted in various parts many of his own thoughts
and feelings,” etc. These are the words of one who up to the moment of
writing was the latest editor of Alfred’s _Boethius_;[29] but now he must
share the ground with Mr. Sedgefield, whose new and greatly improved text
has just issued from the Clarendon Press. On Alfred’s manner of dealing
with his originals Mr. Sedgefield says: “Even in his most faithful
translation, that of the _Cura Pastoralis_, King Alfred is by no means
what in these days would be called literal; while in his _Boethius_ it
is the exception to find a passage of even a few lines rendered word for
word.” And, we may add, it is precisely this free handling which gives
to the king’s translations their personal interest, and nowhere is this
peculiar attraction so strongly felt as in his adaptation of Boethius.
German research has somewhat modified the inference which ascribed
to Alfred everything in his version which is not found in the text.
Old Latin commentaries and scholia upon the _De Consolatione_ have
been discovered in continental libraries, which contain similar
expansions, especially those in the direction of Christian doctrine.
This discovery enlarges the literary interest, with small detraction
from the work of the king. His glory is not of a kind to rise and fall
by little gradations of more or less. The suggestions supplied by these
commentaries are in their nature very obvious. For, as was observed by
Mr. Stewart, the most casual reader of Boethius cannot fail to be struck
with the strong theism which breathes through his pages, and invites
the touch of paraphrase to give it the full Christian sound, as when
the city of Truth, from which Boethius represents himself as exiled,
becomes under the translator’s hand the heavenly Jerusalem; a thought
which is expressed in the recently discovered scholia. But in Lib. ii.
metr. 4, where the translator brings in the striking sentence, “Christ
dwelleth in the vale of Humility and at the monumental stone of Wisdom,”
the old Latin annotator contributes only this—“The stone is Christ.” Of
the famous simile which likens the world to an egg, there is this much
found in the scholia—“That the sky and the earth and the sea are in
configuration like an egg.” See how this is developed by the poet:[30]—
Ðu gestaðoladest Thou didst establish
þurh þa strongan meaht, through strong might,
weroda wuldor cyning, glorious king of hosts,
wunderlice wonderfully
eorðan swa fæste the earth so fast
þæt hio on ænige that she on any
healfe ne heldeð, side heeleth not,
ne mæg hio hider ne þider nor can hither or thither
sigan þe swiðor any more decline
þe hio symle dyde. than she ever did.
Hwæt hi þeah eorðlices Lo nothing earthly
auht ne haldeð, at all sustains her,
is þeah efn eþe it is equally easy
up and of dune upwards and downwards
to feallanne that there should be a fall
foldan þisse: of this earth:
þæm anlicost likest in fashion to
þe on æge bið how in an egg
gioleca on middan, middlemost is the yolk,
glideð hwæþre and withal gliding free
æg ymbutan. the egg round about.
Swa stent eall weoruld So standeth the world
stille on tille, still in its place,
streamas ymbutan, while streaming around,
lagufloda gelac, water-floods play,
lyfte and tungla, welkin and stars,
and sio scire scell and the shining shell
scriðeð ymbutan circleth about
dogora gehwilce; day by day now
dyde lange swa. as it did long ago.
Book iii. metre 9; p. 182, ed. Sedgefield.
This simile occurs only in the poetical version of the Metres, for there
are two versions, one in prose and another in verse, and it is agreed
that the versification has been done after and from the prose; but there
is a question (into which we cannot now enter) whether Alfred is the
author of both, or only of the prose version.
But before we quit Alfred’s _Boethius_, we must notice his treatment
of Lib. ii. prosa 7, where we may discover something more than free
handling. In the first three lines of that section he found a profession
of disinterestedness which he could honestly appropriate to himself. The
Latin speaks thus: “Thou knowest, said I, that I was never governed by
the ambition of transitory wealth. But material for action I did covet,
that my talents might not rust in idleness.” Upon these lines for a text
the king made his chapter xvii., in which it is evident that he forgets
Boethius and speaks for himself and of himself throughout. Applying his
author’s words to himself, he expands them into a veritable apology,
explaining why a king needs a great revenue, and ending thus: “I resolved
to live honourably as long as I lived, and after my time to leave to the
men who should come after me my memorial in good works.”
Now we come to the translation of the _Cura Pastoralis_, a work of
high and manifold interest.[31] A copy of it was sent to every bishop
in England. The very copy which was addressed to Werferth, Bishop of
Worcester, is still in our possession. It is preserved in the Bodleian
Library, and may be seen under glass by every visitor. This wonderful
relic, like the Alfred Jewel, seems to bring us into personal contact
with the great king himself.
In Alfred’s Epistle to the bishops, which forms his Preface to the
_Pastoralis_, the mind of the king is laid open in a very remarkable
manner. Among the many precious evidences which time has spared for the
perpetuation of a noble memory, the first place must certainly (on the
whole) be accorded to this Preface. It exhibits in the clearest light
the reflections of the king upon the past and present condition of his
country, his deep sense of the vast losses that had been sustained, his
meditation on the means of repair at his command, and the direction of
his thoughts to that which is the only root of effective reform, an
enlightened and instructed national conscience. In his contemplation of
this vital principle, he perceives the value of religious education, and
the necessity of beginning there. At this point his discourse enters more
into detail, the practical drift of which is, that the Latin schools
being lost, and being (for the present at least) irreplaceable, it will
be necessary to institute a system of education through the medium of
the English language. Some scholars thought that education could only be
properly conducted through Latin, and that the vernacular would lower
its dignity and value. They could not wholly approve of the method of
translations. Here Alfred had nearly the same battle to fight as Jerome
fought before him, and in his apology he drew materials from Jerome’s
store, adding the further inference that if Scripture might be had in the
vulgar tongue, why not other good books?
Children (he thought) should be taught to read English, and this
elementary stage of education should be common to all of free birth.
For the sons of those who could afford to prolong the education of
their children, Latin studies should follow, and such boys should be
trained for the higher offices. Here the English basis of education
is propounded as a course which was dictated by necessity; but if ever
it should be demonstrated that this course is absolutely the best, the
credit of having been the first to open the right path must not on that
account be denied to King Alfred. In the good old times, Wessex had been
far behind Northumbria in the culture of the classics, but this had led
to a fuller development of the vernacular, and Alfred found his mother
tongue not inadequate to the occasion, and large specimens of Latin
literature were rendered in West Saxon, and thus it happened that the
dialect of Wessex became to the after literature of England what the
Attic dialect was to the literature of Greece.
The king’s letter to the bishops begins thus:—
ÐEOS BÔC SCEAL TO WIOGORA CEASTRE
THIS BOOK IS TO GO TO WORCESTER
Alfred, king, commandeth to greet Wærferth, bishop, with
his words in loving and friendly wise: and I would have you
informed that it has often come into my remembrance, what
wise men there formerly were among the Angle race, both of
the sacred orders and the secular; and how happy times those
were throughout the Angle race; and how the kings who had
the government of the folk in those days obeyed God and His
messengers; and they on the one hand maintained their peace
and their customs and their authority within their borders,
while at the same time they spread their territory outwards;
and how it then went well with them both in war and in wisdom;
and likewise the sacred orders, how earnest they were, as well
about teaching as about learning, and about all the services
that they owed to God; and how people from abroad came to this
land for wisdom and instruction; and how we now should have to
get them abroad if we were going to have them. So clean was
it fallen away in the Angle race, that there were very few on
this side Humber who would know how to render their services in
English, or just read off an epistle out of Latin into English;
and I wean that not many would be on the other side Humber.
So few of them were there that I cannot think of so much as
a single one south of Thames when I took to the realm. God
Almighty be thanked that we have now any teachers in office.
Moreover, the king called also to mind what he had himself seen in his
early days, before all the harryings and burnings of recent times:
how the churches of England had been well stored with books, and the
clergy were numerous, but they had profited little by the books, because
they could not understand them, as they were not written in their own
language. At this point his eloquence rises to a dramatic pitch, and
“It is,” he breaks out, “as if they had said: ‘Our ancestors, who were
the masters of these sacred places, they loved wisdom, and by means of
it they acquired wealth and left it to us. Here may yet be seen their
traces, but we are not able to walk in their steps, forasmuch as we have
now lost both the wealth and the wisdom, because we were not willing to
bend our minds to that pursuit.’” Remembering all this, he had marvelled
very exceedingly at those good scholars who were once so frequent in
England, men who had completely mastered the Latin books, that they had
not been willing to translate any part of them into their own language.
But he soon answered himself and said, that they never could have
anticipated the present utter decay, and it was their very zeal for
learning which caused them to abstain from translating, because they
thought that the path of education and knowledge lay through the study of
languages.
Then I remembered how the law of Moses was first known in
Hebrew; and later, when the Greeks had learned it, they
translated it into their own language, and all other books too.
And later still the Latin people in the same manner, they by
means of wise interpreters, translated all the books into their
own speech. And so also did all the other Christian nations
translate some portion of the books into their own speech.
Therefore to me it seemeth better, if it seemeth so to you,
that we also some books, those that most needful are for all
men to be acquainted with, that we turn those into the speech
which we all can understand, and that ye do as we very easily
may with God’s help, if we have the requisite peace, that all
the youth which now is in England of free men, of those who
have the means to be able to go in for it, be set to learning,
while they are fit for no other business, until such time as
they can thoroughly read English writing: afterwards further
instruction may be given in the Latin language to such as are
intended for a more advanced education, and are to be prepared
for higher office. As I then reflected how the teaching of the
Latin language had recently decayed throughout this people of
the Angles, and yet many could read English writing, then began
I among other various and manifold businesses of this kingdom
to turn into English the book that is called _Pastoralis_ in
Latin, and _Hierdebóc_ (Shepherding-Book) in English, sometimes
word for word, sometimes sense for sense, just as I learned
it of Plegmund my archbishop, and of Asser my bishop, and of
Grimbald my priest, and of John my priest. After I had learned
it so that I understood it and could render it with fullest
meaning, I translated it into English; and to each see in my
kingdom I will send one; and on each there is an “æstel” (ón
ælcre bið án æstel), which is of the value of 50 mancuses. And
I command in the name of God that no man remove the “æstel”
from the book, nor the book from the minster. No one knows how
long such learned bishops may be there, as now, thank God!
there are in several places; and therefore I would that they
(the books) should always be at the place; unless the bishop
should wish to have it with him, or it should be anywhere on
loan, or any one should be writing another copy.
It has never been satisfactorily decided what kind of object is meant by
the “æstel” which accompanied every one of the presentation copies of the
_Hierdebóc_. Dr. Sweet translates thus: “And on each there is a clasp
worth fifty mancus. And I command in God’s name that no man take the
clasp from the book, or the book from the minster.” Dr. Bosworth, in his
Dictionary, explained æstel as a writing-tablet, and identified the word
with “astula” in Du Cange. Now it is not easy to see the propriety of
combining so personal a thing as a note-book with a volume designed for
common use. Nor could such an object be a fixture upon the great book,
which is what the king’s phrase (ón ælcre bið) seems to require. On the
other hand, Dr. Sweet’s clasp is indeed a fixture, but of such a kind as
to be a part of the book itself which could not be removed without wilful
mutilation, and it does not appear that the king in his injunction is
apprehensive of so flagrant an outrage as that.
My own impression is that the clue to the interpretation is furnished by
a Glossary of the eleventh century, which gives “indicatorium” as the
equivalent of æstel (Wright-Wülker, i. 327). I imagine a marker either of
metal or of wood with metal fittings, so constructed as to be fixed upon
the binding, and to bring a small plank across the page wherever desired.
This would keep the parchment flat when apt to buckle, would mark the
reader’s or transcriber’s place, and would minimise the risk of injury by
fingering. It would be attached to one of the boards only in a movable
way, perhaps with a screw, and consequently would require a strict and
imperative rule to secure it from misplacement. The derivation might well
be from “astula” (= assula).
This great epistolary Preface is followed by a second, of another theme
and another type. The first is conceived in the statesmanlike spirit of
a king who is meditating of civil order and education in a country that
has almost lapsed into barbarism. The second is the utterance of the
literary artist concerning the book he has translated, the author and his
merits, and the weight of his authority, not disregarding the history and
transmission of the very codex over which he has been at work. The first
of these prefaces is in strong and ragged prose; the second is in heroic
verse, which recalls the tradition that Alfred was fond of the old songs
of his native land.
Þis ærendgewrit Agustinus
ofer sealtne sæ suðan brohte
ieg-buendum, swa hit ær fore
adihtode drihtnes cempa
Rome papa. Ryhtspell monig 5
Gregorius gleawmod gind wód
ðurh sefan snythro searoðonca hord.
Forðæm he monncynnes mæst gestriende
rodra wearde, Romwara betest,
monna módwelegost, mærðum gefrægost. 10
Siððan min on Englisc Ælfred kyning
awende worda gehwelc, and me his writerum
sende suð and norð; heht him swelcra má
brengan bi ðære bisene, ðæt he his biscepum
sendan meahte forðæm hi his sume ðorften, 15
ða ðe Lædenspræce læste cuðon.
I append an alliterative translation, which runs almost line for line:—
This epistle Augustine
over salt sea brought from the south
to us island-dwellers, just as it erst
indited had been by Christ’s doughty soldier
the Roman pontiff. Much right discourse 5.
did Gregory of glowing wit give forth apace
with skilful soul, a hoard of studious thought.
He of mankind converted the most
to the Ruler of heaven: he of Romans the best,
of men the most learned and widest admired. 10.
At length into English, Alfred the King
wended[32] my every word: and me to his writers
south and north sent out; more copies of such
he bade them bring back, that he to his bishops
might send, for some of them needed it, 15.
those who with Latin speech had least acquaintance.
A few notes may be useful here. In the first line the expression “This
epistle” applies to the entire work, because it is addressed by Gregory
to John, Bishop of Ravenna, and opens with a dedication in epistolary
form.
The poet has a warm feeling for the very manuscript he has been bending
over, which he venerates as a sacred relic, because it was one of the
books which were brought to this island by Augustine, Gregory’s chosen
missionary.
In lines 8-10 is there not a reminiscence of the closing lines of the
_Beowulf_?
At verse 11 there is an abrupt transition, and the after part is in an
altered manner. The book itself becomes the speaker, and in the diction
we recognise the manner of him who dictated to his goldsmith the now
famous legend:
ÆLFRED MEC HEHT GEWYRCAN.
In line 12 we should particularly note the assertion which is couched in
the words “awende worda gehwelc,” a marked and idiomatic phrase which
may be represented in Latin thus: “vertit verborum quodque,” _i.e._
translated every word. This does not point to any rule or restriction
in the manner of rendering, as if the translator had tasked himself
to a verbal fidelity, for in his first preface, speaking of this very
work, he had plainly said that he had sometimes rendered word by word
and sometimes sense for sense (hwilum word be worde, hwilum andgit of
andgite). But what he meant to say was this, that whereas in his other
translations he had used his originals as passive material to be wrought
upon and converted as his own design and purpose guided him, he had
treated Gregory’s _Pastoral Care_ as he would treat Scripture, wherein
nothing could be added nor taken away.
To conclude the subject of Alfred’s Gregory’s _Pastoral Care_, let it be
noted, that not only is it one of the books which are said to have been
translated by the king, but the statement is made by himself speaking in
the first person, and with a singular circumstantiality, and that besides
this the book is distinguished by three peculiar incidents: (1) That the
translation was entire; (2) that a copy of it was sent to every bishop;
(3) that the king was pleased to celebrate the memorable history of the
copy upon which he had worked.
As the chief of Alfred’s translations the _Hierdebóc_ has naturally taken
up much of our space, and we must now be brief on the _Dialogues_. And
indeed we have the less to say because the Alfredian version has not yet
been edited.[33] It exists in three manuscripts of the eleventh century,
one in the Cotton Library, and the other two at Oxford and Cambridge.
This translation is reputed to have been made by Werferth, Bishop of
Worcester, but the authority for this statement is late and of doubtful
value. There is no mention of it in the preface, where the king speaks in
the first person, and acknowledges the services of friends who had acted
as transcribers. It runs thus:—
“I, Alfred, by the grace of Christ, dignified with the honour of royalty,
have assuredly understood, and through the reading of holy books have
often heard, that we to whom God hath given so much eminence of worldly
distinction, have peculiar need at times to humble and subdue our minds
to the divine and spiritual law, in the midst of this earthly anxiety;
and I accordingly sought and requested of my trusty friends that they
for me, out of pious books about the conversation and miracles of holy
men, would transcribe the instruction that hereinafter followeth: that I,
through the admonition and love being strengthened in my mind, may now
and then contemplate the heavenly things in the midst of these earthly
troubles.”
Such is the preface in the two manuscripts at Oxford and Cambridge; but
in lieu of this the Cotton manuscript has a preface in high-pitched
archaic and stilted prose wherein the book speaks and sets forth that it
was transcribed by order of a Bishop Wulfstan from a copy that was given
him by King Alfred, whose name is glorified with romantic superlatives
of eulogy. This is poor apocryphal stuff, but yet as a glimpse at
the posthumous cultus of Alfred’s fame it is interesting and even
valuable.[34]
Bede’s _History_ was the most modern of the books on Alfred’s list. In
this book the translator omitted considerable sections and added none.
There is no contemporary record that the translator was King Alfred.
The earliest extant statement of the kind is in Ælfric’s _Homily on St.
Gregory’s Day_, where the preacher, referring to “Historia Anglorum,”
as he calls it, adds, “which King Alfred translated out of Latin into
English.” Though a hundred years later, this is nevertheless excellent
testimony, and it has been supported both by later historians and until
recently by modern critics.
But now the latest editor,[35] Mr. Thomas Miller, has pointed out some
radical differences of dialect between the West Saxon of the _Cura
Pastoralis_ and the English of this translation, which he locates in the
northern part of Mercia. He is further guided by certain ecclesiastical
considerations (especially the contents of the parts omitted) to select
Litchfield as the spot where the translation was probably made. The
evidence is too multifarious to be stated here, but it seems worthy to
receive a searching examination and discussion.
So far we have treated of the more conspicuous and better-known of
the king’s writings; we must now make mention of his minor works. In
“The Shrine: a Collection of Occasional Papers on Dry Subjects,” which
appeared at irregular intervals from 1864 to 1870, the Rev. Oswald
Cockayne published for the first time two works which claim to rank among
Alfredian literature. These he entitled, _King Ælfred’s Book of Martyrs_
and _Blooms by King Ælfred_.
The _Blooms_ are a translation or adaptation of Augustine’s Soliloquies
and his Epistle to Paulina on the Vision of God, intermingled with
extracts from the _City of God_ and from Gregory, and from Jerome, and
withal many passages that appear to be original. The English of the
book is a debased Saxon of the twelfth century. The title _Blooms_ is a
translation of “blostman,” which is repeatedly used of the work in the
Anglo-Saxon text. There is a preface, in which the work is spoken of
under another figure—that of collecting material to build a house. At
the close we read, “Here end the sayings which King Alfred collected.”
Lappenberg classed the book (then unprinted) among the apocryphal works
of the king, and Pauli thought that some compiler of the twelfth century
had used the name of the king whose memory was still dear to the people.
But in 1877 Professor Wülker took it up, and he soon changed the aspect
of the case. He showed, in a highly convincing manner, that this book
has an intimate relation with Alfred’s _Boethius_, that it carries on an
argument which was broached there, and that the two books must be from
the same hand. His inference is that it was done after the _Boethius_,
and that it was (apparently) the latest work upon which the king was
engaged. In 1894 the affinity between the two books was further confirmed
by Mr. Frank G. Hubbard in _Modern Language Notes_. Specially convincing
are two brief touches in chapter xvii., which echo the argument of the
similarly numbered chapter in Alfred’s _Boethius_ which I have called an
apology. The book is in an imperfect state.
[Illustration: THE SEASONS—OCTOBER TO DECEMBER
(_Cottonian Library_)]
The _Book of Martyrs_ is also imperfect, beginning at December 31 with
St. Columba, and ending with St. Thomas, December 21. The first day of
January is called “the eighth Yule day” (se eahteða geohhel dæg). There
are four manuscripts of this book, and one of them, a fragment of two
leaves, appears to be of Alfred’s time. Moreover, of the saints which
are recorded none are later than the ninth century. Another argument
is that under November 15 is given a Life of St. Milus, which must
(says Cockayne) have been brought direct from Syria to England, and
probably from Helias, the patriarch of Jerusalem, with whom Alfred had a
correspondence, according to the nearly contemporary _Leech Book_. These
evidences appear to Wülker to justify the conclusion of Cockayne, “that
the Martyr Book here presented was at least in use in Ælfred’s time, and
was probably then composed.”
We must now mention some titles of books imputed to the king. By the
third generation after Alfred the tradition of his literary activity had
already assumed mythical proportions. The Latin historian Æthelweard
says that nobody knows how many volumes he produced (_volumina numero
ignoto_). William of Malmesbury says that at the time of his death he
was working at a translation of the Psalter. There is a poetical work
of maxims and proverbs in which each of the detached sentences begins
with “Thus said Alfred.” This book opens with an assembly of notables
at Seaford, presided over by King Alfred, the Shepherd and Darling of
England. These Proverbs of Alfred appear to be a composition of the
twelfth century. Moreover, he is said to have translated into English the
Fables of Æsop. He is also credited with a treatise on Falconry.
But if in one direction the tradition has reached a fabulous extreme, it
is possible, on the other hand, that there may still remain something of
his which has been overlooked or has not been adequately recognised. I
allude to the Saxon Chronicle, about the king’s relation to which there
is doubtless more to be said than has yet found a place in literature. To
speak but of one section—I never can read the annals of 893-897 without
seeming to hear the voice of King Alfred. Among the illuminations of the
approaching anniversary, we may hope that a clearer light will be shed
upon this interesting question.
The Will of Alfred is a very remarkable document, and opens to us more
than might be expected of family arrangements as to property. That
coupling of the names of Æþered and Ælfred which has such a singular and
conspicuous appearance in the Chronicle receives some very practical
illustration. There were at that time no professional men to make Wills,
and we have no cause to doubt that the diction is Alfred’s, as it
purports to be, being indited in the first person. There is much in this
document to provoke inquiry and research, and it would probably repay the
diligent student for a closer investigation than it has hitherto received.
In our time when books are freely produced in great abundance, it is
hard to appreciate the power and originality of King Alfred’s work in
the field of literature. When we look about for his motives we find
such as these: need of occasional retirement and solace in the midst
of harassing affairs, desire for personal improvement and edification,
strong intellectual appetites, etc.—but all these controlled by one chief
and dominant purpose, that of national education. Looking at the external
aspect of the king’s situation we might have judged it sufficient for him
at that time to concentrate his energies upon the restoration of material
prosperity and the strengthening of the national armaments. That the
prior necessity of these was not overlooked, we have ample proof in
the subsequent progress of Wessex. But this did not satisfy the kingly
ambition of Alfred; he craved for his people the higher benefits of
political life, their moral and intellectual and spiritual development.
Curiosity may well prick us to ask from what source far-reaching aims
like these so suddenly burst into our history, and that, too, at a time
of exhaustion at home and apprehension from abroad. If King Alfred saw a
connection between general education and the acquisition of wealth (as
there is some indication that he did), this may partly explain the energy
of his educational policy, but we still desiderate something more. If
we might assume that being under a strong sense of what he had himself
gained by his early education, he desired to impart the like advantages
to his people, then and only then the problem would find its appropriate
and adequate solution.
The beginnings of modern education in the seventh century were quickened
with the sense that something had been lost, and the whole movement
was coloured with the sentiment of retrieval and recovery. Two great
historical exhibitions of this effort are displayed in the Latin schools
of Anglia and of Charlemagne, which are in fact but two parts of one
movement, linked together by the name of Alcuin.
King Alfred’s educational revival is isolated from the preceding by the
wars and desolations of the Wicingas, and it starts with a new basis
in the installation of the mother tongue as the medium of elementary
teaching. To this innovation it is due that we alone of all European
nations have a fine vernacular literature in the ninth and tenth and
eleventh centuries. And the domestic culture of that era, I take it, was
the cause why the great French immigration which followed in the wake of
the Norman Conquest did not finally swamp the English language.
ENGLISH LAW BEFORE THE NORMAN CONQUEST
BY SIR FREDERICK POLLOCK
ENGLISH LAW BEFORE THE NORMAN CONQUEST[36]
At first sight Anglo-Saxon law may appear merely barbarous to the modern
reader. In order to be just to it we must consider its surroundings.
Anglo-Saxon life was rough and crude as compared not only with any modern
standard but with the amount of civilisation which survived, or had been
recovered, on the Continent. There was very little foreign trade, not
much internal traffic, nothing like industrial business of any kind on
a large scale, and (it need hardly be said) no system of credit. Such
conditions gave no room for refined legal science applied by elaborate
legal machinery, such as those of the Roman Empire had been and those
of modern England and the commonwealths that have sprung from her were
to be. Such as the men were, such had to be the rules and methods
whereby some kind of order was kept among them. Our ancestors before
the Norman Conquest lived under a judicial system, if system it can be
called, as rudimentary in substance as it was cumbrous in form. They
sought justice, as a rule, at their primary local court, the court of
the hundred, which met once a month, and for greater matters at a higher
and more general court, the county court, which met only twice a year,
except, perhaps, for merely formal business. We say purposely met rather
than sat. The courts were open-air meetings of the freemen who were
bound to attend them, the _suitors_ as they are called in the terms of
Anglo-Norman and later medieval law; there was no class of professional
lawyers; there were no judges in our sense of learned persons specially
appointed to preside, expound the law, and cause justice to be done; the
only learning available was that of the bishops, abbots, and other great
ecclesiastics. This learning, indeed, was all the more available and
influential because, before the Norman Conquest, there were no separate
ecclesiastical courts in England. There were no clerks nor, apparently,
any permanent officials of the popular courts; their judgments proceeded
from the meeting itself, not from its presiding officer, and were
regularly preserved only in the memory of the suitors. A modern student
or man of business will at first sight wonder how this rude and scanty
provision for judicial affairs can have sufficed even in the Dark Ages.
But when we have reflected on the actual state of Anglo-Saxon society, we
may be apt to think that at times the hundred and the county court found
too little to do rather than too much. The materials for what we now call
civil business practically did not exist.
There is now no doubt among scholars that the primary court was the
hundred court. If the township had any regular meeting (which is quite
uncertain), that meeting was not a judicial body. The King, on the other
hand, assisted by his Council of wise men, the Witan,[37] had a superior
authority in reserve. It was allowable to seek justice at the king’s
hands if one had failed, after due diligence, to obtain it in the hundred
or the county court. Moreover the Witan assumed jurisdiction in the first
instance where land granted by the king was in question, and perhaps in
other cases where religious foundations or the king’s great men were
concerned. Several examples of such proceedings are recorded, recited
as we should say in modern technical speech, in extant land-charters
which declare and confirm the result of disputes, and therefore we know
more of them than we do of the ordinary proceedings in the county and
hundred courts, of which no written record was kept. But they can have
had very little bearing, if any, on the daily lives of the smaller folk.
In important cases, the county court might be strengthened by adding the
chief men of other counties; and, when thus reinforced, there is hardly
anything to distinguish it from the Witan save that the king is not there
in person.[38] The king might act as arbitrator or give advice to his
immediate dependents to compromise their suits; but there was no regular
way of appealing from the judgments of the popular courts.
Some considerable time before the Norman Conquest, but how long is not
known, bishops and other great men had acquired the right of holding
courts of their own and taking the profits in the shape of fines and
fees, or what would have been the king’s share of the profits. My own
belief is that this began very early, but there is no actual proof
of it. Twenty years after the Conquest, at any rate, we find private
jurisdiction constantly mentioned in the Domesday Survey, and common in
every part of England: about the same time, or very shortly afterwards,
it was recognised as a main ingredient in the complex and artificial
system of feudalism. After having grown in England, as elsewhere, to
the point of threatening the king’s supremacy, but having happily
found in Edward I. a master such as it did not find elsewhere before
the time of Richelieu, the manorial court is still with us in a form
attenuated almost to the point of extinction. It is not material for the
later history of English law to settle exactly how far the process of
concession or encroachment had gone in the time of Edward the Confessor,
or how fast its rate was increasing at the date of the Conquest. There
can be no doubt that on the one hand it had gained and was gaining speed
before “the day when King Edward was alive and dead,”[39] or on the other
hand that it was further accelerated and emphasised under rulers who
were familiar with a more advanced stage of feudalism on the Continent.
But this very familiarity helped to make them wise in time; and there
was at least some foreshadowing of royal supremacy in existing English
institutions. Although the courts of the hundred and the county were
not the king’s courts, the king was bound by his office to exercise
some general supervision over their working. He was represented in the
county court by the sheriff; he might send out commissioners to inquire
and report how justice was done, though he could not interfere with the
actual decisions. The efficiency of these powers varied in fact according
to the king’s means and capacity for exercising them. Under a wise and
strong ruler like Alfred or Æthelstan they might count for much; under a
feeble one like Æthelred they could count for very little.
A modern reader fresh to the subject might perhaps expect to find that
the procedure of the old popular courts was loose and informal. In fact
it was governed by traditional rules of the most formal and unbending
kind. Little as we know of the details, we know enough to be sure of
this; and it agrees with all the evidences we have of the early history
of legal proceedings elsewhere. The forms become not less but more
stringent as we pursue them to a higher antiquity; they seem to have not
more but less appreciable relation to any rational attempt to ascertain
the truth in disputed matters of fact. That task, indeed, appears to have
been regarded as too hard or too dangerous to be attempted by unassisted
human faculties. All the accustomed modes of proof involved some kind of
appeal to supernatural sanctions. The simplest was the oath of one of
the parties, not by way of testimony to particular facts, but by way of
assertion of his whole claim or defence; and this was fortified by the
oaths of a greater or less number of helpers, according to the nature of
the case and the importance of the persons concerned, who swore with him
that his oath was true. He lost his cause without a chance of recovery
if any slip was made in pronouncing the proper forms, or if a sufficient
number of helpers were not present and ready to make the oath. On the
other hand the oath, like all archaic forms of proof, was conclusive when
once duly carried through. Hence it was almost always an advantage to
be called upon to make the oath of proof, and this usually belonged to
the defendant. “Gainsaying is ever stronger than affirming ... Owning is
nearer to him who has the thing than to him who claims.”[40] Our modern
phrase “burden of proof” is quite inapplicable to the course of justice
in Anglo-Saxon courts: the benefit or “prerogative” of proof, as it is
called even in modern Scottish books, was eagerly contended for. The
swearer and his oath-helpers might perjure themselves, but if they did
there was no remedy for the loser in this world, unless he was prepared
to charge the court itself with giving false judgment. Obviously there
was no room in such a scheme for what we now call rules of evidence.
Rules there were, but they declared what number of oath-helpers was
required, or how many common men’s oaths would balance a thegn’s. In
the absence of manifest facts, such as a fresh wound, which could be
shown to the court, an oath called the “fore-oath” was required of the
complainant in the first instance as a security against frivolous suits.
This was quite different from the final oath of proof.
Oath being the normal mode of proof in disputes about property, we
find it supplemented by ordeal in criminal accusations. A man of good
repute could usually clear himself by oath; but circumstances of grave
suspicion in the particular case, or previous bad character, would drive
the defendant to stand his trial by ordeal. In the usual forms of which
we read in England the tests were sinking or floating in cold water,[41]
and recovery within a limited time from the effects of plunging the
arm into boiling water or handling red-hot iron. The hot-water ordeal
at any rate was in use from an early time, though the extant forms of
ritual, after the Church had assumed the direction of the proceedings,
are comparatively late. Originally, no doubt, the appeal was to the god
of water or fire, as the case might be. The Church objected, temporised,
hallowed the obstinate heathen customs by the addition of Christian
ceremonies, and finally, but not until the thirteenth century, was strong
enough to banish them. As a man was not put to the ordeal unless he was
disqualified from clearing himself by oath for one of the reasons above
mentioned, the results were probably less remote from rough justice than
we should expect, and it seems that the proportion of acquittals was
also larger. Certainly people generally believed to be guilty did often
escape, how far accidentally or otherwise we can only conjecture.[42]
Another form of ordeal favoured in many Germanic tribes from early times,
notwithstanding protest from the Church, and in use for deciding every
kind of dispute, was trial by battle: but this makes its first appearance
in England and Scotland not as a Saxon but as a distinctly Norman
institution.[43] It is hard to say why, but the fact is so. It seems
from Anglo-Norman evidence that a party to a dispute which we should now
call purely civil sometimes offered to prove his case not only by oath
or combat, but by ordeal, as the court might award. This again suggests
various explanations of which none is certain.[44]
Inasmuch as all the early modes of proof involved large elements of
unknown risk, it was rather common for the parties to compromise at
the last moment. Also, since there were no ready means of enforcing the
performance of a judgment on unwilling parties, great men supported by
numerous followers could often defy the court, and this naturally made
it undesirable to carry matters to extremity which, if both parties were
strong, might mean private war. Most early forms of jurisdiction, indeed,
of which we have any knowledge, seem better fitted to put pressure on the
litigants to agree than to produce an effective judgment of compulsory
force. Assuredly this was the case with those which we find in England
even after the consolidation of the kingdom under the Danish dynasty.
Rigid and cumbrous as Anglo-Saxon justice was in the things it did
provide for, it was, to modern eyes, strangely defective in its lack of
executive power. Among the most important functions of courts as we know
them is compelling the attendance of parties and enforcing the fulfilment
both of final judgments and of interlocutory orders dealing with the
conduct of proceedings and the like. Such things are done as of course
under the ordinary authority of the court, and with means constantly at
its disposal; open resistance to judicial orders is so plainly useless
that it is seldom attempted, and obstinate preference of penalties to
submission, a thing which now and then happens, is counted a mark of
eccentricity bordering on unsoundness of mind. Exceptional difficulties,
when they occur, indicate an abnormal state of the commonwealth or some
of its members. But this reign of law did not come by nature; it has
been slowly and laboriously won. Jurisdiction began, it seems, with
being merely voluntary, derived not from the authority of the State but
from the consent of the parties. People might come to the court for a
decision if they agreed to do so. They were bound in honour to accept the
result; they might forfeit pledges deposited with the court, or put their
neighbours who had become sureties in an awkward position; but the court
could not compel their obedience any more than a tribunal of arbitration
appointed at this day under a treaty between sovereign States can compel
the rulers of those States to fulfil its award. Anglo-Saxon courts had
got beyond this most early stage, but not very far beyond it.
The only way to bring an unwilling adversary before the court was to take
something of his as security till he would attend to the demand; and
practically the only things that could be taken without personal violence
were cattle. Distress in this form was practised and also regulated from
a very early time. It was forbidden to distrain until right had been
formally demanded—in Cnut’s time to the extent of three summonings—and
refused. Thus leave of the court was required, but the party had to act
for himself as best he could. If distress failed to make the defendant
appear, the only resource left was to deny the law’s protection to the
stiff-necked man who would not come to be judged by law. He might be
outlawed, and this must have been enough to coerce most men who had
anything to lose and were not strong enough to live in rebellion; but
still no right could be done to the complainant without his submission.
The device of a judgment by default, which is familiar enough to us, was
unknown, and probably would not have been understood. An elaborate system
of never trusting one man without two or more sureties (to describe it
roughly) was used to supplement these defects, and we may suppose it to
have been more or less effective, though clumsy and tedious.
Final judgment, when obtained, could in like manner not be directly
enforced. The successful party had to see to gathering the “fruits of
judgment,” as we say, for himself. In case of continued refusal to do
right according to the sentence of the court, he might take the law
into his own hands, in fact wage war on his obstinate opponent. The
ealdorman’s aid, and ultimately the king’s, could be invoked in such
extreme cases as that of a wealthy man, or one backed by a powerful
family, setting the law at open defiance. But this was an extraordinary
measure, analogous to nothing in the regular modern process of law.
The details of Anglo-Saxon procedure and judicial usage had become or
were fast becoming obsolete in the thirteenth century, which is as much
as to say that they were already outworn when the definite growth of the
Common Law began. But the general features of the earlier practice, and
still more the ideas that underlay them, have to be borne in mind. They
left their stamp on the course of our legal history in manifold ways;
many things in the medieval law cannot be understood without reference to
them; and even in modern law their traces are often to be found.
While the customary forms of judgment and justice were such as we have
said, there was a comparatively large amount of legislation or at least
express declaration of law; and, what is even more remarkable, it was
delivered in the mother tongue of the people from the first. Æthelberht,
the converted king of Kent, was anxious to emulate the civilisation of
Rome in secular things also, and reduced the customs of his kingdom, so
far as might be, to writing; but they were called _dooms_, not _leges_;
they were issued in English, and were translated into Latin only after
the lapse of some centuries. Other Kentish princes, and afterwards Ine of
Wessex, followed the example; but the regular series of Anglo-Saxon laws
begins towards the end of the ninth century with Alfred’s publication
of his own dooms, and (it seems) an amended version of Ine’s, in which
these are now preserved. Through the century and a half between Alfred’s
time and Cnut’s[45] legislation was pretty continuous, and it was always
in English. The later restoration of English to the statute roll after
the medieval reign of Latin and French was not the new thing it seemed.
It may be that the activity of the Wessex princes in legislation was
connected with the conquest of the Western parts of England, and the need
of having fixed rules for the conduct of affairs in the newly settled
districts. No one doubts that a considerable West-Welsh population
remained in this region, and it would have been difficult to apply any
local West-Saxon custom to them.
Like all written laws, the Anglo-Saxon dooms have to be interpreted in
the light of their circumstances. Unluckily for modern students, the
matters of habit and custom which they naturally take for granted are
those of which we now have least direct evidence. A large part of them is
filled by minute catalogues of the fines and compositions payable for
manslaughter, wounding, and other acts of violence. We may well suppose
that in matters of sums and number such provisions often express an
authoritative compromise between the varying though not widely dissimilar
usages of local courts; at all events we have an undoubted example of
a like process in the fixing of standard measures after the Conquest;
and in some of the later Anglo-Saxon laws we get a comparative standard
of Danish and English reckoning. Otherwise we cannot certainly tell
how much is declaration of existing custom, or what we should now call
consolidation, and how much was new. We know from Alfred’s preamble to
his laws, evidently framed with special care, that he did innovate to
some extent, but, like a true father of English statesmen, was anxious
to innovate cautiously. On the whole the Anglo-Saxon written laws,
though of priceless use to students of the times, need a good deal of
circumspection and careful comparison of other authorities for using them
aright. It is altogether misleading to speak of them as codes, or as if
they were intended to be a complete exposition of the customary law.
We pass on to the substance of Anglo-Saxon law, so far as capable of
being dealt with in a summary view. There were sharp distinctions between
different conditions of persons, noble, free, and slave. We may talk
of “serfs” if we like, but the Anglo-Saxon “theow” was much more like
a Roman slave than a medieval villein. Not only slaves could be bought
and sold, but there was so much regular slave-trading that selling men
beyond seas had to be specially forbidden. Slaves were more harshly
punished than free men, and must have been largely at their owner’s
mercy, though there is reason to think that usage had a more advanced
standard of humanity than was afforded by any positive rules. Manumission
was not uncommon, and was specially favoured by the Church. The slave had
opportunities (perhaps first secured under Alfred) for acquiring means of
his own, and sometimes bought his freedom.
Among free men there were two kinds of difference. A man might be a lord
having dependents, protecting them and in turn supported by them, and
answerable in some measure for their conduct; or he might be a free man
of small estate dependent on a lord. In the tenth century, if not before,
every man who was not a lord himself was bound to have a lord on pain
of being treated as unworthy of a free man’s rights; “lordless man” was
to Anglo-Saxon ears much the same as “rogue and vagabond” to ours. This
wide-spread relation of lord and man was one of the elements that in due
time went to make up feudalism. It was not necessarily associated with
any holding of land by the man from the lord, but the association was
doubtless already common a long time before the Conquest, and there is
every reason to think that the legally uniform class of dependent free
men included many varieties of wealth and prosperity. Many were probably
no worse off than substantial farmers, and many not much better than
slaves.
The other legal difference between free men was their estimation for
_wergild_, the “man’s price” which a man’s kinsfolk were entitled to
demand from his slayer, and which sometimes he might have to pay for his
own offences; and this was the more important because the weight of a
man’s oath also varied with it. A _thegn_ (which would be more closely
represented by “gentilhomme” than by “nobleman”) had a wergild six times
as great as a _ceorl’s_[46] or common man’s, and his oath counted for six
common oaths before the court.[47] All free men, noble or simple, looked
to their kindred as their natural helpers and avengers; and one chief
office of early criminal law was to regulate the blood-feud until there
was a power strong enough to supersede it.
We collect from the general tenor of the Anglo-Saxon laws that the
evils most frequently calling for remedy were manslaying, wounding, and
cattle-stealing; it is obvious enough that the latter, when followed
by pursuit in hot blood, was a natural and prolific source of the two
former. The rules dealing with such wrongs or crimes (for archaic laws
draw no firm line between public offence and private injury) present a
strange contrast of crude ideas and minute specification, as it appears
at first sight. Both are however really due to similar conditions. A
society which is incapable of refined conceptions, but is advanced
enough to require equal rules of some kind and to limit the ordinary
power of its rulers, is likewise incapable of leaving any play for
judicial discretion. Anglo-Saxon courts had not the means of apportioning
punishment to guilt in the particular case, or assessing compensation
according to the actual damage, any more than of deciding on the merits
of conflicting claims according to the evidence. Thus the only way
remaining open was to fix an equivalent in money or in kind for each
particular injury: so much for life and so much for every limb and member
of the human body. The same thing occurs with even greater profusion of
detail in the other Germanic compilations of the Dark Ages. In the latter
days of Anglo-Saxon monarchy treason was added to the rude catalogue
of crimes, under continental influence ultimately derived from Roman
law; but the sin of plotting against the sovereign was the more readily
conceived as heinous above all others by reason of the ancient Germanic
principle of faith between a lord and his men. This prominence of the
personal relation explains why down to quite modern times the murder of a
husband by his wife, of a master by his servant, and of an ecclesiastical
superior by a clerk, secular or regular, owing him obedience, were
specially classed as “petit treason” and distinguished from murder in
general.[48]
Secret murder as opposed to open slaying was treated with special
severity. This throws no light on our later criminal law; nor has it much
to do with love of a fair fight, though this may have strengthened the
feeling; rather it goes back to a time when witchcraft, and poisoning
as presumably connected therewith, were believed to be unavoidable by
ordinary caution, and regarded with a supernatural horror which is still
easy to observe among barbarous people. With these exceptions, and a
few later ones of offences reserved for the king’s jurisdiction, crimes
were not classified or distinguished in Anglo-Saxon custom save by the
amount of public fine[49] and private composition required to redeem the
wrong-doer’s life in each case. Capital punishment and money payment,
or rather liability to the blood-feud redeemable by money payment, and
slavery for a thief who could not make the proper fine, were the only
means of compulsion generally applicable, though false accusers and some
other infamous persons were liable to corporal penalties. Imprisonment
is not heard of as a substantive punishment; and it is needless to say
that nothing like a system of penal discipline was known. We cannot doubt
that a large number of offences, even notorious ones, went unpunished.
The more skilled and subtle attacks on property, such as forgery and
allied kinds of fraud, did not occur, not because men were more honest,
but because fraudulent documents could not be invented or employed in
a society which knew nothing of credit and did not use writing for any
common business of life.
Far more significant for the future development of English law are the
beginnings of the King’s Peace. In later times this became a synonym
for public order maintained by the king’s general authority; nowadays
we do not easily conceive how the peace which lawful men ought to keep
can be any other than the Queen’s or the commonwealth’s. But the king’s
justice, as we have seen, was at first not ordinary but exceptional,
and his power was called to aid only when other means had failed. To
be in the king’s peace was to have a special protection, a local or
personal privilege. Every free man was entitled to peace in his own
house, the sanctity of the homestead being one of the most ancient and
general principles of Teutonic law. The worth set on a man’s peace, like
that of his life, varied with his rank, and thus the king’s peace was
higher than any other man’s. Fighting in the king’s house was a capital
offence from an early time. Gradually the privileges of the king’s
house were extended to the precincts of his court, to the army, to the
regular meetings of the shire and hundred, and to the great roads. Also
the king might grant special personal protection to his officers and
followers; and these two kinds of privilege spread until they coalesced
and covered the whole ground. The more serious public offences were
appropriated to the king’s jurisdiction; the king’s peace was used as a
special sanction for the settlement of blood-feuds, and was proclaimed on
various solemn occasions; it seems to have been specially prominent—may
we say as a “frontier regulation”?—where English conquest and settlement
were recent.[50] In the generation before the Conquest it was, to all
appearance, extending fast. In this kind of development the first stage
is a really exceptional right; the second is a right which has to be
distinctly claimed, but is open to all who will claim it in the proper
form; the third is the “common right” which the courts will take for
granted. The Normans found the king’s peace nearing, if not touching, the
second stage.
Except for a few peculiar provisions, there is nothing in Anglo-Saxon
customs resembling our modern distinctions between wilful, negligent,
and purely accidental injuries. Private vengeance does not stop to
discriminate in such matters, and customary law which started from
making terms with the avenger could not afford to take a more judicial
view. This old harshness of the Germanic rules has left its traces
in the Common Law down to quite recent times. A special provision in
Alfred’s laws recommends a man carrying a spear on his shoulder to keep
the point level with the butt; if another runs on the point so carried,
only simple compensation at most[51] will be payable. If the point has
been borne higher (so that it would naturally come in a man’s face),
this carelessness may put the party to his oath to avoid a fine. If a
dog worried or killed any one, the owner was answerable in a scale of
fines rising after the first offence;[52] the indulgence of the modern
law which requires knowledge of the dog’s habits was unknown. But it may
be doubted whether these rules applied to anything short of serious
injury. Alfred’s wise men show their practical sense by an explanatory
caution which they add: the owner may not set up as an excuse that the
dog forthwith ran away and was lost. This might otherwise have seemed
an excellent defence according to the archaic notion that the animal or
instrument which does damage carries the liability about with it, and the
owner may free himself by abandoning it (_noxa caput sequitur_).[53]
We have spoken of money payments for convenience; but it does not seem
likely that enough money was available, as a rule, to pay the more
substantial wergilds and fines; and it must once have been the common
practice for the pacified avenger to accept cattle, arms, or valuable
ornaments, at a price agreed between the parties or settled by the court.
The alternative of delivering cattle is expressly mentioned in some of
the earlier laws.
As for the law of property, it was rudimentary, and inextricably mixed up
with precautions against theft and charges of theft. A prudent buyer of
cattle had to secure himself against the possible claim of some former
owner who might allege that the beasts had been stolen. The only way to
do this was to take every step in public and with good witness. If he
set out on a journey to a fair, he would let his neighbours know it.
When he did business either far or near, he would buy only in open market
and before credible persons, and, if the sale were at any distance from
home, still more if he had done some trade on the way without having set
out for the purpose, he would call the good men of his own township to
witness when he came back driving his newly-gotten oxen, and not till
then would he turn them out on the common pasture. These observances,
probably approved by long-standing custom, are prescribed in a whole
series of ordinances on pain of stringent forfeitures.[54] Even then a
purchaser whose title was challenged had to produce his seller, or, if
he could not do that, clear himself by oath. The seller might produce
in turn the man from whom he had bought, and he again might do the
like; but this process (“vouching to warranty” in the language of later
medieval law) could not be carried more than three steps back, to the
“fourth hand” including the buyer himself. All this has nothing to do
with the proof of the contract in case of a dispute between the original
parties to the sale; it is much more aimed at collusion between them,
in fact at arrangements for the receipt and disposal of stolen goods.
The witnesses to the sale are there not for the parties’ sake, but as a
check in the public interest. We are tempted at first sight to think of
various modern enactments that require signature or other formalities as
a condition of particular kinds of contracts being enforceable; but their
provisions belong to a wholly different category.
Another archaic source of anxiety is that borrowed arms may be used in a
fatal fight and bring the lender into trouble. The early notion would be
that a weapon used for manslaying should bring home the liability with
it to the owner, quite regardless of any fault; which would afterwards
become a more or less rational presumption that he lent it for no good
purpose. Then the risk of such weapons being forfeited continued even
to modern times. Hence the armourer who takes a sword or spear to be
repaired, and even a smith who takes charge of tools, must warrant
their return free from blood-guiltiness, unless it has been agreed to
the contrary.[55] We also find, with regard to the forfeiture of things
which “move to death,” that even in case of pure accident, such as a tree
falling on a woodman, the kindred still have their rights. They may take
away the tree if they will come for it within thirty days.[56]
There was not any law of contract at all, as we now understand it. The
two principal kinds of transaction requiring the exchange or acceptance
of promises to be performed in the future were marriage and the payment
of wergild. Apart from the general sanctions of the Church, and the
king’s special authority where his peace had been declared, the only
ways of adding any definite security to a promise were oath and giving
of pledges. One or both of these were doubtless regularly used on solemn
occasions like the settlement of a blood-feud; and we may guess that
the oath, which at all events carried a spiritual sanction, was freely
resorted to for various purposes. But business had hardly got beyond
delivery against ready money between parties both present, and there
was not much room for such confidence as that on which, for example,
the existence of modern banking rests. How far the popular law took
any notice of petty trading disputes, such as there were, we are not
informed; it seems likely that for the most part they were left to be
settled by special customs of traders, and possibly by special local
tribunals in towns and markets. Merchants trafficking beyond seas, in any
case, must have relied on the customs of their trade and order rather
than the cumbrous formal justice of the time.
Anglo-Saxon landholding has been much discussed, but is still imperfectly
understood, and our knowledge of it, so far from throwing any light on
the later law, depends largely on what can be inferred from Anglo-Norman
sources. It is certain that there were a considerable number of
independent free men holding land of various amounts down to the time
of the Conquest. In the eastern counties some such holdings, undoubtedly
free, were very small indeed.[57] But many of the lesser free men were
in practical subjection to a lord who was entitled to receive dues and
services from them; he got a share of their labour in tilling his land,
rents in money and kind, and so forth. In short they were already in
much the same position as those who were called villeins in the twelfth
and thirteenth centuries. Also some poor free men seem to have hired
themselves out to work for others from an early time.[58] We know next
to nothing of the rules under which free men, whether of greater or
lesser substance, held “folk-land,” that is, estates governed by the
old customary law. Probably there was not much buying and selling of
such land. There is no reason to suppose that alienation was easier
than in other archaic societies, and some local customs found surviving
long after the Conquest point to the conclusion that often the consent
of the village as well as of the family was a necessary condition of a
sale. Indeed it is not certain that folk-land, generally speaking, could
be sold at all. There is equally no reason to think that ordinary free
landholders could dispose of their land by will, or were in the habit of
making wills for any purpose. Anglo-Saxon wills (or rather documents
more like a modern will than a modern deed) exist, but they are the wills
of great folk, such as were accustomed to witness the king’s charters,
had their own wills witnessed or confirmed by bishops and kings, and
held charters of their own; and it is by no means clear that the lands
dealt with in these wills were held as ordinary folk-land. In some cases
it looks as if a special licence or consent had been required; we also
hear of persistent attempts by the heirs to dispute even gifts to great
churches.[59]
Soon after the conversion of the south of England to Christianity,
English kings began to grant the lordship and revenues of lands, often
of extensive districts, to the Church, or more accurately speaking to
churches, by written charters framed in imitation of continental models.
Land held under these grants by charter or “book,” which in course of
time acquired set forms and characters peculiar to England, was called
_bookland_, and the king’s bounty in this kind was in course of time
extended to his lay magnates. The same extraordinary power of the king,
exercised with the witness and advice[60] of his Witan, which could
confer a title to princely revenues, could also confer large disposing
capacities unknown to the customary law; thus the fortunate holder of
bookland might be and often was entitled not only to make a grant in his
lifetime or to let it on such terms as he chose, but also to leave it
by will. My own belief is that the land given by the Anglo-Saxon wills
which are preserved was almost always bookland even when it is not so
described. Indeed these wills are rather in the nature of postponed
grants, as in Scotland a “trust disposition” had to be till quite lately,
than of a true last will and testament as we now understand it. They
certainly had nothing to do with the Roman testament.
Long before the Conquest it had become the ambition of every man of
substance to hold bookland, and we may well think that this was on the
way to become the normal form of land-ownership. But this process,
whatever its results might have been, was broken off by the advent of
Norman lords and Norman clerks with their own different set of ideas and
forms.
The various customs of inheritance that are to be found even to this
day in English copyholds, and to a limited extent in freehold land, and
which are certainly of great antiquity, bear sufficient witness that at
least as much variety was to be found before the Conquest. Probably the
least usual of the typical customs was primogeniture; preference of the
youngest son, ultimogeniture or junior-right as recent authors have
called it, the “borough-English” of our post-Norman books, was common
in some parts; preference of the youngest daughter, in default of sons,
or even of the youngest among collateral heirs, was not unknown. But
the prevailing type was equal division among sons, not among children
including daughters on an equal footing as modern systems have it.
Here again the effect of the Norman Conquest was to arrest or divert
the native lines of growth. In this country we now live under laws of
succession derived in part from the military needs of Western Europe in
the early Middle Ages, and in part from the cosmopolitan legislation of
Justinian, the line between the application of the two systems being
drawn in a manner which is accounted for by the peculiar history of
our institutions and the relations between different jurisdictions in
England, but cannot be explained on any rational principle. But the
unlimited freedom of disposal by will which we enjoy under our modern law
has reduced the anomalies of our intestate succession to a matter of only
occasional inconvenience.
Small indeed, it is easy to perceive, is the portion of Anglo-Saxon
customs which can be said to have survived in a recognisable form. This
fact nevertheless remains compatible with a perfectly real and living
continuity of spirit in our legal institutions.
If we do not nowadays observe King Alfred’s dooms, or anything like them,
still we owe it to the work of Alfred and his children that England was
saved to become an individual nation, and that our fundamental ideas of
justice have survived all external changes. Those ideas may be summed up
very shortly. Justice is essentially public; the business of parties is
to conduct their cases according to the rules of law, the business of the
court is to hear and determine between them, not to conduct an inquiry;
judicial interpretation of the law is the only authentic and binding
interpretation, and in particular the executive has no such power. These
principles appear obvious to most of us, but there are many civilised
countries where they are not admitted. We can trace them back to the
rudest beginnings of our jurisprudence; they are as vigorous as ever,
in all the complexity of modern affairs, wherever the English tongue is
spoken.
ALFRED AND THE ARTS
BY REV. W. J. LOFTIE
ALFRED AND THE ARTS
The story of the life of King Alfred connects his name with the practice
of three arts. He was an architect, a writer, and a musician. We so
often hear of the art of war that when we remember his proficiency as a
soldier we are inclined to forget that fortification, fighting, fishing,
and hunting, if they may be called arts, are not fine arts. Alfred’s
noble defence of England against the Danes has ever since his day been
an example to his countrymen of later generations. He first taught them
the negative virtue that consists in not knowing when they are beaten.
But our concern, in the particular chapter that has fallen to my lot,
is with Alfred and the fine arts: and as you cannot enjoy painting or
music without a house, it behoves us to inquire first as to the state of
architecture in the ninth century, and as to the part taken by Alfred in
building houses, churches, and cities. We must remember that though, as
we know, writing and the illumination of manuscripts had attained a very
high pitch of excellence, Alfred had no maps to guide him. His workmen
may have been able to scratch their diagrams on stones, and in other
similar ways to obtain guidance in carrying out such buildings as the
king required. But he had traversed all that part of England over which
he reigned, and was as well acquainted with the marshes of Somerset as
with the wooded valley of the Lea and the chalk cliffs of his southern
shore. He knew how to build and how to handle the ships of his time, and
was able to defeat the Danes on what might be called their own element.
Tradition has always and plausibly assigned to him a further feat of
naval warfare. When his enemies had sailed up to Hertford and prepared
to rest for the winter and mend their boats, he, so to speak, drew the
water from under them by the knowledge which prompted him to divide the
channels. The object of this and other achievements of the kind was
his anxiety to obtain the command of the great estuary into which the
Fleet, the Wallbrook, the Lea, and the creeks about Barking fell. To gain
this region was one thing, to hold it another. The Saxons before his
time disliked the use of walls in warfare. Still more they disliked the
trouble of building and maintaining them. But Alfred possessed whatever
was known of fortification, and by this knowledge he was able to raise
the first permanent impediment in the way of future invaders.
The best authorities agree that to Alfred rather than to the Romans
must be ascribed the foundation of London as it was during the Middle
Ages, and as, in a sense, it is still. Stow, as far back as the reign
of Queen Elizabeth, citing some long-lost document or tradition, tells
us that Alfred found London empty. He, to use a very modern expression,
“restored” the walls. He rebuilt them with the material at hand, namely,
the material with which another Saxon king had built the church of St.
Alban. The Saxons had disdained to fight behind walls in their conquest
of the degenerate and Romanised Britons. But the Danes were as fighting
men equal to the Saxons. Some advantage was needed before the Saxons
could overcome their formidable invaders. He saw two important points to
be gained by the restoration of London: first, that his new city would be
virtually impregnable by the Danes; secondly, that the situation would
be that from which he could best defend the whole valley of the Thames.
As the Thames rises in Gloucestershire, and runs thence to Essex and
Kent, this was to defend all his English dominions. We say now that to
hold the Nile is to hold all Egypt and much more. In those days, when the
river was the chief highway, to protect the Thames was to protect Kent,
Wessex, and Mercia. I have mentioned hunting as an art. Alfred had an eye
for a hunting country, as we say now. London was seen by him as we see
Pevensey, a ruined wall enclosing nothing. There may have been vestiges
of a church. There may have been the piers of a bridge. There can have
been little else. Alfred made the bridge into a fortress, renewing the
great timbers which had connected the piers. The bridge stood a long way
farther down the stream than the modern London Bridge, and to defend it
the king built a tower at the south-east corner of the restored wall.
William the Conqueror, like Alfred, saw the advantages of the site, and
here he placed the tower which still stands, a relic of his reign, a
reminiscence of that of his great predecessor. The Roman roads through
the city, and the gates by which they made their exit, no longer existed,
or, at best, were ruined and useless. He made one road diagonally from
the bridge across his market-place to Westgate, which we know as Newgate.
A second road led to what we still call Bishopsgate, some distance
westward from the site of a Roman gate which opened on the old roads to
Lincoln and into Essex. His corn-market, where there was a weighing-stone
for wheat, stood to the west of the Market Place or Cheap. A road along
the northern side of the Cheap was in existence so soon after Alfred’s
time that it must have been planned if it was not made by him. We call
it Cheapside, and here there are traditions of a king’s palace near the
spot where, centuries later, the great men of the city began to assemble
in their Guildhall.
We have mentioned Alfred’s wall. His outline, we may be sure, was
speedily filled up. St. Paul’s Church rose among the wooden and brick
houses. Civic institutions began to show themselves where there was
security; and Alfred’s brother-in-law, Burgred, the last King of Mercia,
had a house in Coleman Street, and gave the cabbage garden to the Bishop
of Worcester. Alfred’s daughter, Æthelflæd, married Æthelred, Burgred’s
successor, who was called the Alderman of the Mercians. To him, and after
his death to his widow, the king committed the charge and governance
of the city, and Æthelbert became the first alderman of London. The
importance of the place is apparent. It was the easternmost bulwark of
Alfred’s kingdom against the settled Danes of East Anglia, as well as
against the fresh incursions of pirates and filibusters from over the
sea. Alfred’s prescience is proved by one single fact. From that day to
this London has never been taken by force of arms. The Danes from the
North Sea never got past the Tower—the Danes from the Danelaw never broke
through the wall.
With regard to ecclesiastical architecture in Alfred’s time we know very
little; with regard to civil architecture scarcely anything. The church
of St. Lawrence, Bradford-on-Avon, is assigned by competent judges to as
late a date as the ninth century; but Aldhelm, who was Bishop of Sherborn
near the beginning of the seventh century, founded a nunnery at Bradford,
which was afterwards connected with that of Shaftesbury, and the church
is mentioned as early as the time of King Æthelred, just a hundred years
after the death of Alfred. Building-stone of the best kind abounds in
the neighbourhood, as well as in that of Deerhurst, near Tewkesbury. The
stone masonry suggests that wooden buildings set the pattern in both
places: while, from the ease with which St. Paul’s in London was burnt,
both before and after the Norman Conquest, we may be sure it contained
very little brickwork. Deerhurst was built in 1053, so we must not look
to it as an example of the architecture of Alfred’s time. At Wing, near
Aylesbury, the chancel is Saxon, and not unlike St. Lawrence’s chapel
in its peculiar flat panelling. It is very lofty, but less narrow in
proportion than Bradford, and has a series of very interesting vaulted
crypts, in which we see a good many thin bricks of the kind usually
ascribed to the Romans, fragments perhaps of a Roman fortress or a
villa at that place. Several towers with early Saxon features remain,
but many have lately been destroyed, as at St. Albans, Limpsfield, and
other places. A few fragments of Beda’s time may possibly remain in the
very ancient church of Jarrow. Saxon building with Roman bricks is to be
seen at St. Martin’s, Canterbury, and at Dover, but both falsified by
injudicious alterations. Where good building-stone comes to the surface,
as in Northamptonshire, we find not far apart examples of churches and
towers which may well have existed at the beginning of the tenth century.
Barnack and Earls Barton may be named, and with them should be classed
St. Michael’s at Oxford, and St. Benedict’s at Cambridge. Traces of Saxon
work are often found in old churches, but they can seldom be dated in the
age of Alfred. It may, in fact, be laid down as a rule that where there
were no fortifications, building was of but a temporary character, and
where stone did not greatly abound, churches were made of wood and were
very perishable. In a few places towers were built specially, like the
Irish round towers, for storage and defence. In these cases we usually
find great height in proportion, and an arrangement of the entrance so
that it can only be reached by a ladder, such as we may still trace in
the Tower of London, the keep of which had no entrance on the ground
level before the reign of Henry VIII. Of dwelling-houses we see no
examples. In London, as much as two centuries later, ordinances were made
for the improvement of town dwellings, but that previously this branch
of architecture had been sadly neglected we may infer from reading that
even chimneys were usually made of wood.
We know that castles were built by Alfred, and in his time, but in
a majority of cases they consisted only of mounds and stockades,
strengthened by great beams and balks of timber. To withstand attacks
like those of the Danes, sudden and usually brief, these defences may
have been very powerful. At a few places like Tamworth, where some
supposed Saxon masonry is still pointed out, or at Colchester, where, as
at London, Roman walls were restored, a little building took the place
of woodwork. Mr. Clark, the best authority about _Medieval Military
Architecture_, says plainly that though “the English were from a remote
period conversant with masonry, and constructed churches of stone or
timber as suited them best,” they avoided everything but timber where
they made a mound or an artificial earthwork of any kind. The Norsemen
from the mouth of the Elbe were not very different from the Danes and
the Saxons, Jutes and Angles were only earlier immigrants from the same
regions. It is not possible now to distinguish the earthworks thrown up
by Alfred and his men from those of the Danes which they overthrew. One
thing only we can recognise as his peculiar work, namely, the formation
in his own mind of clearly devised plans by which, with inferior
strength, with fewer men and arms, and in face of frequent disaster, he
was able to consolidate his power, to turn even defeat into success, and
at last, before his early death, both to obtain a time of respite for his
people and to show them how in the future they might always hopefully
resist the invader. If the Danish attack was for the moment overwhelming,
it was desultory. The defence offered by Alfred was far-seeing, part of a
consistent whole, a scheme which must eventually prevail.
In 876 the pirates attacked Wareham successfully, and thence fell upon
Exeter: but in 878 Alfred made his famous camp in the Somerset marshes,
and by slow degrees drove them northward and eastward, established
himself in London, and fortified it, thence expelling them from
Gravesend, from Rochester, from Farnham, from their great timber fort
at Benfleet, until Hasting, the Danish leader, in 893, submitted to
Alfred and was converted and baptized. Finally, in 897 the war was over.
The Danes had thrown up a work “on the Lea, twenty miles from London,
whereupon Ælfred,” says Mr. Clark, “threw up another work on each bank
of that river lower down, and diverted the waters through a number of
shallow courses, thus effectually shutting in the Danish ships.” From
this time to the end of his life, a brief period of about four years,
Alfred devoted himself to the arts of peace. Among them he reckoned
ship-building and the codification of the laws, but we chiefly remember
his love of books, his establishment of schools, in which writing was
practised as a fine art, and his encouragement of skilful work in gold,
enamel, and inlay.
Many examples remain to show us that art of this last kind, as well as
poetry and music, were largely and successfully practised among the
Anglo-Saxons. The great discoveries in grave mounds in Kent, of which the
results may be seen in the Mayer Museum at Liverpool, prove that from
a very early period there were among the people skilful designers and
artificers, not only in jewellery, but in glass. The well-known ornament
preserved at Oxford, probably a royal badge, which bears his name, is
perhaps the most familiar object which can be connected with him. We may
remember of Alfred, as well as of King Edwin of Northumbria and of other
law-loving monarchs, that he hung up gold bracelets by the wayside, and
that none dared to steal them. Unfortunately for another story connecting
Alfred with the fine arts, it is not older than the twelfth century. The
fact that such a legend existed shows us what was the popular estimate of
the king’s character. We are glad therefore to observe that Freeman finds
nothing impossible in the story that “Alfred, wishing to know what the
Danes were about and how strong they were, set out one day from Athelney
in the disguise of a minstrel or juggler, and went into the Danish camp
and stayed there several days, amusing the Danes with his playing, till
he had seen all that he wanted, and then went back without any one
finding him out.” Alfred’s dealings with the Danes, whether in disguise
or otherwise, led to the defeat and conversion of Guthorm, to the peace
of Wedmore, and to two incidents in which pictorial art has a place: the
capture of the Raven standard, and the cutting of one of the figures of
a horse on the side of the chalk downs. There are two such white horses,
one near Edington, which has been “restored,” the other near Shrivenham,
“which has not been altered at all, but is very old and rude, so that you
might hardly know that it was meant for a horse at all.”
The pretty story of Alfred’s youth, as to his learning to read, will
not, unfortunately, bear critical examination. That it should have been
so long believed and so often told is, however, eloquent as to the
reputation he acquired as a boy. Some have even doubted if he could
read, but in his journey to Rome he learned Latin—at least it is more
probable that he knew Latin than that he was ignorant of it. He was
certainly desirous, during his scanty leisure from warfare, to further
the cause of learning by all means in his power. His monks at Athelney
and his nuns at Shaftesbury were expressly devoted to the labours of the
scriptorium, and when we observe the number of the books which, in spite
of the Danes, were produced in England in the course of the eighth and
ninth centuries, we are forced to the conclusion that the powers of the
time were unanimously in favour of the art of writing. We may, indeed, go
much further than this. After a careful comparison, such as may be made
in the British Museum, or any other great public library, we are forced
to the conclusion that no country in Europe at that time could boast of
the production of such beautiful books, filled with such skilful writing
and illustrated with such exquisite pictures, as England in the reign
of King Alfred. A well-known manuscript (Addl. MSS. 34, 890) produced
by the monks of Alfred’s own monastery at Winchester, or the volume of
Gospels and other readings written without illustrations at Canterbury,
cannot be surpassed in all the qualities which we admire in manuscripts.
Italy itself could do nothing even approaching the _Psychomachia_ of
Prudentius, probably written at Shaftesbury in the ninth century. It is
filled with figures representing the soul in conflict with evil. They
are wrongly described as “tinted,” but the figures and their draperies
are drawn in two colours, in outline, in a manner which would not
surprise us on a Greek vase of the best period. We admire in a relief by
Donatello, or a fresco by Giotto, similar art, centuries later. Of the
same period, or earlier, is a book reciting the names of the benefactors
of Lindisfarne—St. Cuthbert was Alfred’s special patron—in which the
lettering is partly in black, partly in gold, worthy of a _Liber Vitæ_.
In many volumes we see such an initial as that which figures in the story
mentioned above, among them copies of Beowulf’s or Cædmon’s poems, such
as might very well answer to the book of old songs which Alfred’s mother
was said to have shown him. (Cottonian MSS. Vit. A. xv.)
The famous _Benedictional_ written for Æthelwold, Bishop of Winchester,
some fifty years after Alfred’s time, may be taken to show us to what
perfection this art was brought. The style is that to which the artists
of his time were tending. Here and there, among older books, we may
trace features which occur in this sumptuous volume, both among the
figure-subjects and among the ornaments. Sir Digby Wyatt, an excellent
judge, is enthusiastic on the manuscript, yet fails to appreciate the
figure-subjects, because they show “little classical influence.” I am
not inclined to find fault on that account. The opinion of a learned
antiquary of the last generation, John Gage, should have great weight.
He looked upon the _Benedictional_ as the culmination of the art of the
Anglo-Saxon school; and John Young Ottley expressed himself in equally
eulogistic terms about the manuscript, which is in the collection of
the Duke of Devonshire and which was fully described and in great part
engraved by the Society of Antiquaries in 1832 (_Archæologia_, vol.
xxiv.) Ottley points out its chief claim on our admiration thus: “You
desire from me a few words on the illuminations in St. Æthelwold’s
Benedictionary, with my opinion of their merits as works of art. I
feel honoured by the request, and comply with it the more willingly as
I can honestly say that I think them in the highest degree creditable
to the taste and intelligence of this nation at a period when in most
parts of Europe the fine arts are commonly believed to have been at
a very low ebb.” Farther on, Ottley speaks of “the justness of the
general proportions of the figures.” He especially praises some little
angels holding scrolls, which, he says, “have so much gracefulness and
animation, are so beautifully draped, and so well adapted in their
attitudes to the spaces they occupy, that I hardly know how to praise
them sufficiently.”
The mechanical part of the work should be carefully examined. It
shows—and not it alone, but many early books as well—that in the time
of Alfred artists could command the help of artificers who knew how to
make vellum fit for the most delicate painting and writing; that colours
were produced worthy of the vellum for which they were prepared; that
gold-beating and gilding with the leaf had been carried to a perfection
never since surpassed. Godeman, the monk, afterwards, in 970, abbot of
Thorney, who wrote the book, must have been born during the reign of
Alfred, or soon after, and learned his art from the writers of the great
king who, in his English translation of the Pastoral of Gregory, remarks
feelingly on the destruction wrought by the Danes, and how before their
incursions “the churches throughout Britain were filled with treasures
and books.”
FOOTNOTES
[1] We still have, at Llantwit Major, the beautiful monument set up by
one of the kings who thus made submission, Howel, son of Ris. The Latin
is not as good as the decoration of the monument: _ni nomine di patris et
spiritus santdi anc crucem houelt properabit pro anima res patris eus_.
The monument is a singularly beautiful “wheel” cross with broad stem.
It has long been broken in two. It lies on the ground in the remarkable
western portion of the double church at Llantwit.
[2] Possibly meaning an Englishman who was not a Wessex man.
[3] The mancus was more than the third of a pound.
[4] In 959, Alfsin, Archbishop of Canterbury, died in the Alps on his way
for the pall, overcome by the snow and the cold.
[5] A hundred years before Alfred’s time, Alcuin of York wrote to Bishop
Remedius of Coire, to beg him to let his messenger pass through the
mountains to Italy without payment of the heavy tolls.
[6] Canute’s descriptive letter is given by Florence, under the year
1031. The argument used by Wilfrith at Whitby, and by Aldhelm in writing
to the Britons, had been brought to bear on the king. “I learned from
wise men that the holy Apostle Peter received of the Lord great power
of binding and loosing, and is the key-bearer of the heavenly kingdom,
and thus I held it mightily useful to seek diligently his more special
patronage with the Lord.”
[7] We learn this from William of Malmesbury, Aldhelm’s own monastery.
William reports Alfred as saying that no one in any age equalled Aldhelm
in poetry, for he could make a poem, compose an air, and aptly either
sing or recite. A street-song common in Alfred’s time was composed by
Aldhelm. See also p. 81.
[8] A marginal note in the Cotton MS. remarks that this disposes of the
story of a school of literature at Oxford at that time. An interpolation
in Asser credits this school with the high approval of Germanus in A.D.
430.
[9] See also note on p. 76.
[10] In the form of treaty as it has come down to us, there is no mention
of Christianity, except so far as this, that it is confirmed by an oath
for themselves and their “successors born and unborn who love God’s mercy
and ours.” The tradition probably mixes up the simple terms of peace with
the events that followed, and treats those events as the fulfilment of
conditions.
[11] Nothing is said of her training in needlework. The skill of the
Saxon ladies was great. There is contemporary evidence of this in the
tapestry-work figures of the stole of Frithestan, now in the Chapter
Library at Durham, worked under the direction of Alfred’s daughter-in-law
Ælflæd, between 910 and 915. A Latin inscription states that _Ælflæd
ordered it to be made for the pious Bishop Frithestan_. The most gorgeous
cope seen by Anselm at the Council of Bari in 1098 had been a Canterbury
vestment in Canute’s time.
[12] Frithestan’s stole is a wonderful example of weaving in gold-wire,
beaten flat like narrow tape. It is woven with selvedged openings
for the insertion of the prophets, etc., these figures being made in
tapestry-work.
[13] This is variously stated.
[14] Here as elsewhere we may suppose that the various races in these
islands are meant. The list of countries given under the fourth head is
probably a sufficient guide to the meaning of the phrase.
[15] A mediæval editor proposes to read Hiberiæ instead of Hiberniæ,
Spain instead of Ireland. But the English Chronicle tells of a visit to
Alfred in 891 of three Scots, that is, Irishmen, smitten with the desire
to wander. A later Chronicle assigns their departure from their own land
to the death of their favourite teacher Swifneh. He was known as the most
wise, or most skilled, of the Scots, and the English Chronicle mentions
his death. His beautiful Celtic grave slab is at Clonmacnoise. The close
connection which existed between the early Anglo-Saxons and the Irish
schools of learning had now ceased.
[16] We have lost the sense of paganism in the names of our days, but it
comes out quaintly in the Saxon form, _on thone Halgan Thunres dæg_.
[17] Still called in Yorkshire, as in Alfred’s Ecclesiastical Law,
gang-days.
[18] Even of the famous scholar Aldhelm, 200 years before, it was said
that when he became bishop he was absorbed, as the manner of bishops was,
in the secular cares of his position.
[19] His translation of this book is much closer to the original than is
the case with his History (Bede), Geography (Orosius), and Philosophy
(Boethius).
[20] Perhaps a desk and pointer. See Professor Earle’s remarks in this
volume.
[21] The words in the Saxon will are _sec man eac on cwicum ceape_; in
the Latin will, _imploretur deus viventi pretio_.
[22] Saxon, _swa hit beon mæge_; Latin, _quantum fieri possit_.
[23] in Shropshire, and not to be identified with Boddington in
Gloucestershire.
[24] Now Quatford, in Shropshire, like their former stronghold at
Buttington.
[25] The manuscripts of Alfred’s _Orosius_ are in the Cottonian
collection and in the Lauderdale MS. They were used by Hakluyt. The work
was first edited by Daines Barrington and Reinhold Foster in 1773; and in
1855 a literal English translation, with a facsimile, and the Anglo-Saxon
text, were published by the Rev. Joseph Bosworth, D.D.
[26] It is a noted character of this book that while it contains much
that is acceptable to the Christian spirit and nothing that is repugnant
to it, there is not a word in it which might not have been written by a
pagan of the sixth century who had inherited the influences of centuries
of Christianity. Those who desire to know more about Boethius, and
the various ancient translations of his last work, and his influence
upon mediæval thought, and the controversies of which he has been the
occasion, should consult _Boethius, An Essay_, by Hugh Fraser Stewart,
M.A.; Blackwood and Son, 1891.
[27] The only one to be compared with it is the _History of Early
Frankish Christianity_, by Gregory, the Bishop of Tours, with which,
indeed, it has been compared by Canon Bright, and the comparison is made
in a generous spirit.
[28] _König Ælfred und seine Stelle in der Geschichte Englands_, von
Dr. Reinhold Pauli, Berlin, 1851. _The Life of Alfred the Great._
Translated from the German of Dr. R. Pauli. To which is appended Alfred’s
Anglo-Saxon version of Orosius. With a literal English translation, etc.
London, 1853. (Bohn’s Antiquarian Library.)
[29] _King Alfred’s Anglo-Saxon Version of Boethius_, etc. By the Rev.
Samuel Fox, M.A., 1864. (Bohn’s Antiquarian Library.) This book will
continue to be in request, because of the translation which faces the
Anglo-Saxon text.
[30] The characters Þ þ and Ð ð are of identical value, meaning TH th.
[31] _King Alfred’s West-Saxon Version of Gregory’s Pastoral Care_, with
an English translation, etc. By Henry Sweet, Esq., Balliol College,
Oxford, 1871 and 1872. (Early English Text Society.)
[32] My excuse for using an obsolete word is that it is Alfred’s own, and
I could not do without it. Moreover, I was fortified by the hope that
some poet might adopt it and revive its transitival use.
[33] It is said that a critical edition, based upon the three
manuscripts, is in preparation by Herr Hans Hecht.
[34] This bizarre composition was published by Dr. Krebs in _Anglia_,
iii. (1880).
[35] Yet there is a later edition proceeding from the press, by Dr.
Schipper, Professor of English at Vienna.
[36] A chapter from a work in preparation, reprinted here, with some
omissions and alterations, from the _Law Quarterly Review_.
[37] There is more authority for this short form than for the fuller
Witena-Gemót (not witenágemot as sometimes mispronounced by persons
ignorant of Old-English inflexions).
[38] Such a court, after the Conquest, was that which restored and
confirmed the rights of the see of Canterbury on Penenden Heath: but it
was held under a very special writ from the king.
[39] The common form of reference in Domesday Book.
[40] _Æthelr._ ii. 9.
[41] There is a curious French variant of the cold-water ordeal in which
not the accused person, but some bystander taken at random, is immersed:
I do not know of any English example.
[42] The cold-water ordeal was apparently most feared; see the case of
Ailward, _Materials for Hist. St. Thomas_, i. 156, ii. 172; Bigelow,
_Plac. A.-N._ 260. For a full account, see Lea, _Superstition and Force_.
[43] See more in Neilson, _Trial by Combat_, an excellent and most
interesting monograph.
[44] Cases from D. B. collected in Bigelow, _Plac. A.-N._ 40-44, 61. Even
under Henry II. we find, in terms, such an offer, but it looks, in the
light of the context, more like a rhetorical asseveration—in fact the
modern “j’en mettrais ma main au feu”—than anything else: _op. cit._ 196.
[45] The so-called laws of Edward the Confessor, an antiquarian
compilation of the twelfth century largely mixed with invention, do not
even profess to be actual dooms of the Confessor, but the customs of his
time collected by order of William the Conqueror.
[46] The modern forms of these words, _thane_ and _churl_, have passed
through so much change of meaning and application that they cannot be
safely used for historical purposes.
[47] There were minor distinctions between ranks of free men which are
now obscure, and were probably no less obscure in the thirteenth century:
they seem to have been disregarded very soon after the Conquest.
[48] Blackstone, _Com._ iv. 203.
[49] _Wite_ was probably, in its origin, rather a fee to the court for
arranging the composition than a punishment. But it is treated as penal
from the earliest period of written laws. In the tenth century it could
mean pain or torment; see C. D. 1222 _ad fin._
[50] See the customs of Chester, D. B. i. 262 b, extracted in Stubbs,
_Sel. Ch._
[51] Ælf. 36. The statement is rather obscure. One is tempted to suppose
that an accident of that kind had happened to some well-known person at
the king’s court.
[52] Ælf. 23.
[53] See Holmes, _The Common Law_, 7-12.
[54] See especially Edg. iv. 6-11.
[55] Ælf. 19.
[56] Ælf. 13.
[57] Maitland, _Domesday Book and Beyond_, 106.
[58] Ælf. 43.
[59] See C. D. 226 compared with 256.
[60] A strictly accurate statement in few words is hardly possible. See
the section “Book-land and Folk-land” in Maitland, _Domesday Book and
Beyond_, p. 244 _sqq._
INDEX
Æstel, the, 192, 195
Africa, description of, 164
Alfred regains his kingdom, 17, 18
as law-giver, 22-26
permanence of his work, 32
personal appearance of, 33
as king, 41
legendary and real, 42, 43
army, 45
accession to throne, 46, 133
visit to Rome, 58, 172
portrait of a king, 61, 62
writings of, 63, 64
life work, 66
mother of, 71
parentage, 71, 72
his youth, 76
as a musician, 81
his laborious life, 88-90
translations of books, 100-104
religious views, 107
will of, 110, 203
military tactics, 118
first campaign, 129
marriage, 129
campaigns against Hasting and the “Great Army,” 145-147
as a geographer, 151
selection of books for the people, 177-181
minor literary works, 199-202
as architect, writer, musician, 243
Anglo-Saxon dooms, 222
justice, 218
landholding, 234-239
life, 209
women, 7, 8
Anglo-Saxons, gods of, 3-5
manners and customs of, 7-10
Ashdown, battle of, 118
Basing, battle of, 133
Bede, literary works of, 180
Bede’s _History_, 198
_Benedictional_, 255
Boethius’s _Consolation of Philosophy_, 30, 178, 183
extract from Sedgefield edition, 185, 186
Britons of Cornwall and Wales, 58, 59
Burhs, 142
Candle-clocks, invention of, 91
Canute on pilgrimages to Rome, 74
Capital punishment, 228
Castles built by Alfred, 250
Church, Alfred’s relation to the, 63
_City of God_, Orosius’s, 177
Code of Alfred, 174-176
Courts of bishops and great men, 212
_Cura Pastoralis_, 179, 180
translation of, 187
Danes, Alfred’s feelings towards, 83
baptism of, 85
first appearance of, 11
second invasion of, 55
wars of, 15
Danish Conquest, 15
invasion, 46-50
_Dialogues_ of Gregory the Great, 180
Ealhswith, 129
Ecclesiastical Laws, 97-99
Eddington, battle of, 118
Edmund the Martyr, 130
Education of Alfred’s children, 87, 88
of children, Alfred’s views on, 188
Embassies to foreign parts, 95, 96
England in Alfred’s time, map of, 2
Ethelred, death of, 133
Ethelwulf’s will, 73
Europe, summary of inhabitants, 154-156
Final judgment in court, 220
Foreign discoveries, 59, 60
Fortification of towns, 141, 143
Gregory the Great, 179
Gregory’s treatise, 105
Guthrum, King of Danes, 50
treaty with, 55
Haddeby, 160
_Hierdebóc_, 187-192
Hyde Abbey, Register of, 110
Income, distribution of, 92
John the Scot, 108
Kingdom, settlement of, 54
King, portrait of, by Alfred, 61, 62
King’s peace, 228
Kriegs Spiel, 16
Laws, code of, compiled, 53
Learning, encouragement of, 60, 61
introduced, 90
Letter to bishops, 189-192
Life work of Alfred, 66
Literature fostered by Alfred, 29
London fortified, 19, 20
restoration of, 57
Map of Alfred’s England, 2
Manual, formation of Alfred’s, 94
Military tactics of Alfred, 118
Monasteries, foundation of, 93, 94
rebuilt, 26, 27
Monument to Alfred, reasons for, 36
Naval forces, state of, 123-125
Navy, development of, 135, 140
foundation of, 52
Oath, in court of law, 214-217
Oht-here, voyage of, 157-160
Orosius, Paulus, 152, 177
Payments for convenience, 225, 231
Peace of 878, 139
Pilgrimages to Rome, 75
Property law, 231, 232
Religion of the tribes, 3-5
Religious bequests by Alfred, 112
Rome, Alfred’s connection with, 28
communication with, 86
Slaves, freedom of, 113
of Anglo-Saxons, 223-225
St. Cuthbert, 15
St. Lawrence, Bradford-on-Avon, 248
State of English defences, 119-123
Stone masonry, 248
Thegnhood increased, 143, 144
Viking raids, 125-129, 135-139
Vikings, invasion of, 55
Voyages of Oht-here and Wulfstan, 157-160
Walls of London restored by Alfred, 245, 247
Wergild, payment of, 233
Will of Alfred, 110, 203
of Ethelwulf, 73
Witenagemot, 31, 32, 211
Women of Anglo-Saxons, 7, 8
Writings of Alfred, 63, 64
Wulfstan, voyage of, 160, 161
York, battle of, 128
_Printed by R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, Edinburgh._
THE THOUSANDTH ANNIVERSARY
OF
KING ALFRED THE GREAT
1901
King Alfred died (according to the accustomed authorities) in October 901
A.D., and it is proposed to hold in 1901, the Thousandth Anniversary of
his Death, a NATIONAL COMMEMORATION of the King to whom this Empire owes
so much in many various ways. The antiquity of the Monarchy still held
by his descendants has no parallel in Europe, and the traditions which
have gathered round his name are those of religion, learning, defence,
seamanship, law, and culture. It is hoped that all who use our mother
tongue will join, without distinction of creed, race, nation, or party,
in honour to one who was both Hero and Saint.
Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen
has been pleased to signify her approval of the proposal.
It is decided that the City of Winchester, which was the Capital of
Wessex, the Royal Residence and Burial Place of the King, shall occupy a
prominent position in the celebration.
_The National Commemoration & Memorial._
At a Meeting convened by the Lord Mayor of London at the Mansion House on
the 18th of March 1898, the LORD MAYOR in the Chair,
It was proposed by the BISHOP OF LONDON, seconded by the Rt. Hon. J.
BRYCE, M.P., and unanimously resolved, that: “The Thousandth Anniversary
of the Death of King Alfred, which occurs in October 1901, should be
celebrated by a National Commemoration.”
Among the speakers at the Mansion House, when a National Memorial was
also decided on, and the Committee appointed, were the Archbishop of
Canterbury, the Bishop of Winchester, Lord Wantage, Sir Frederick
Pollock, Bart., the Chief Rabbi, Dr. Clifford, Professor Burrows, Mr.
Louis Dyer (representing the Chicago Historical Society), and several
others.
The Committee appointed—
_Chairman_—The Right Hon. THE LORD MAYOR OF LONDON.
_Treasurer_—The Right Hon. Sir JOHN LUBBOCK, Bart., M.P.
_Honorary Secretary_—Mr. ALFRED BOWKER (Mayor of Winchester, 1897-8).
Their Worships the Mayors of Cities and Boroughs.
Lord Aberdare
The Earl of Aberdeen, G.C.M.G.
Lord Acton
Lord Bishop of St. Albans
Mr. Alderman and Sheriff Fred. P. Alliston
Sir W. R. Anson, Bart. (Vice-Chancellor of Oxford)
Sir Arthur Arnold
Sir Edwin Arnold, K.C.I.E., C.S.I.
The Lord Bishop of St. Asaph
The Right Hon. Evelyn Ashley
Lord Balcarres
The Right Hon. A. J. Balfour, M.P. (Chancellor Edinburgh University)
Sir Squire Bancroft
Mr. Godfrey Baring
Lord Basing
Lord Battersea
Mr. W. W. B. Beach, M.P.
Mr. W. à Beckett
Mr. E. H. Beerbohm Tree
The Lord Mayor of Belfast
Rev. G. C. Bell (Headmaster Marlborough College)
Canon Benham, F.S.A.
Mr. E. F. Benson
Sir Walter Besant
The Lord Mayor of Birmingham
Mr. Augustine Birrell, Q.C., M.P.
Sir James Blyth, Bart.
Mr. Albert Brassey, M.P.
Lord Brassey
Professor James W. Bright (Honorary Secretary to the United States
Committee)
The Lord Bishop of Bristol
Sir H. W. Campbell (Chairman of London and South-Western Railway
Company)
Mr. Andrew Carnegie (New York)
The Hon. D. Carnegie
Mr. J. Bonham-Carter (High Sheriff of Hampshire)
Mr. A. Bonham-Carter
Rev. Stopford Brooke
Mr. Oscar Browning (Cambridge)
The Right Hon. J. Bryce, M.P.
Sir Henry Burdett, K.C.B.
Sir Philip Burne-Jones, Bart.
Professor Montagu Burrows, M.A. (Chichele Professor of Modern History,
Oxford)
Sir Frederick Burton
Dr. H. M. Butler (Cambridge)
Lord Bishop of Calcutta
Lord Calthorpe
Archbishop of Canterbury
The Dean of Canterbury
Lord Bishop of Carlisle
The Earl of Carlisle
Mr. R. K. Causton, M.P.
The Lord Chief Justice
The Chief Rabbi (The Rev. Dr. Adler)
Professor E. C. Clark (Regius Professor of Civil Law, Cambridge)
Dr. John Clifford (Westbourne Park Baptist Chapel)
The Master of the Clothworkers’ Company
Mr. W. G. Clough, M.P.
Mr. J. Colman
Professor Albert S. Cook (Yale University, U.S.A.)
The Master of the Coopers’ Company
Viscount Cromer, G.C.B.
Dr. Cunningham
Mr. Lionel Cust (National Portrait Gallery)
Col. Sir Horatio Davies, K.C.M.G., M.P.
Mr. Dewar
Professor Albert V. Dicey, Q.C. (Vinerian Professor of Law, Oxford)
Viscount Dillon (President of the Royal Archæological Institute)
Alderman Sir Joseph Dimsdale
Dr. Conan Doyle
The Master of the Drapers’ Company
The Lord Mayor of Dublin
Marquess of Dufferin and Ava, K.P.
Lord Bishop of Durham
The Dean of Durham
Mr. Louis Dyer (Representing the Chicago Historical Society and other
American Societies)
Professor J. Earle (Oxford)
The Lord Provost of Edinburgh
Sir Whittaker Ellis, Bart.
Mr. A. J. Evans (Ashmolean Museum)
Sir John Evans, K.C.B. (Treasurer Royal Society)
Sir Francis H. Evans, K.C.M.G., M.P. (Chairman of the Union Steamship
Company)
Mr. C. E. Fagan (British Museum)
Dr. Fearon (the Headmaster of Winchester College)
The Duke of Fife, K.T.
Mr. J. Staats Forbes (Chairman of London, Chatham, and Dover Railway
Company)
Mr. E. A. Onslow Ford, R.A.
Professor M. Foster (Cambridge, President British Association)
Mr. Lewis Fry, M.P.
Professor Gayley (Representing the Universities of Berkeley and
Michigan, U.S.A.)
Professor S. R. Gardiner, D.C.L.
Dr. R. Garnett (British Museum)
The Right Hon. H. Gladstone, M.P.
The Lord Provost of Glasgow
Lord Glenesk
Mr. E. L. Godkin
The Right Hon. G. J. Goschen, M.P. (First Lord of the Admiralty)
Mr. Edmund Gosse
Sir Mountstuart E. Grant Duff, G.C.S.I. (President Royal Historical
Society)
Lord Grantley
Mr. Alderman Frank Green
Sir E. Grey, M.P.
The Lord Bishop of Guildford
The Right Hon. W. C. Gully, M.P. (Speaker of the House of Commons)
Sir Francis Seymour Haden, F.R.C.S. (President Royal Society of
Painter Etchers)
Mr. Rider Haggard
Professor Hales, F.S.A.
Mr. W. Hamilton Yatman
The Right Hon. Sir William Harcourt, Bart., M.P.
Mr. Thomas Hardy
Mr. G. W. Harper
Mr. Frederic Harrison
Sir F. Dixon Hartland, Bart., M.P.
Lord Hawkesbury
Mr. Anthony Hope Hawkins
Admiral Sir J. C. Dalrymple Hay, Bart., K.C.B.
The Hon. J. S. Hay (Secretary of State, America)
Mr. J. K. J. Hichens (Chairman of the Stock Exchange)
Mr. Hubert Herkomer, R.A.
Dr. Alexander Hill (Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge)
Rev. Hugh Price Hughes
Sir Robert Hunter
Sir Henry Irving
Mr. T. H. Ismay
Lord Iveagh, K.P.
Professor R. C. Jebb, M.P. (Cambridge)
The Earl of Jersey, G.C.M.G.
The Right Hon. Sir F. H. Jeune, K.C.B. (President Probate Division)
Field-Marshal Lord Roberts of Kandahar, K.P., G.C.B.
Mr. A. Barton Kent (The Skinners’ Company)
Mr. Rudyard Kipling
Mr. H. L. W. Lawson, L.C.C.
The Lord Mayor of Leeds
Mr. G. D. Leslie, R.A.
Lord Bishop of Lichfield
Sir J. D. Linton (President Royal Institute of Painters in Water
Colours)
Lord Lister (President Royal Society)
The Lord Mayor of Liverpool
Lord Llangattock
Lord Loch, G.C.B., K.C.B.
Professor R. Lodge (Glasgow University)
The Lord Bishop of London
The Marquess of Lorne, K.T.
Mr. Albert G. Sandeman (President of the London Chamber of Commerce)
The Right Hon. Sir John Lubbock, Bart., M.P.
Sir A. C. Lyall
Rev. Edward Lyttelton, M.A. (Headmaster of Haileybury College)
Mr. G. Macmillan
Dr. J. R. Magrath (Oxford)
Professor F. W. Maitland (Cambridge)
The Lord Mayor of Manchester
Sir C. R. Markham, K.C.B. (President Royal Geographical Society)
Mr. Justin M’Carthy, M.P.
Lord Monkswell
Lord Morpeth
Sir Lewis Morris
Mr. Walter Morrison, M.P.
The Right Hon. Sir J. R. Mowbray, Bart., M.P.
Mr. John Murray
Mr. W. H. Myers, M.P.
The Lord Bishop of Oxford
The Warden of Merton College (Oxford)
Professor Napier (Oxford)
Lord Bishop of Newcastle
Mr. William Nicholson
Dr. Joseph Parker (City Temple)
Sir Walter Parratt
Mr. Passmore Edwards
The Dean of St. Paul’s
Mr. C. Arthur Pearson
Viscount Peel
Mr. E. H. Pember, Q.C.
Lord Bishop of Peterborough
The Earl of Pembroke, G.C.V.O.
The Master of the Pewterers’ Company
The Poet Laureate
Sir Frederick Pollock, Bart. (Corpus Professor of Jurisprudence,
Oxford)
Rev. B. Pollock, M.A. (Headmaster of Wellington College)
Mr. Melville Portal
Mr. Wyndham S. Portal (Ex-Chairman of London and South-Western
Railway Company)
Mr. W. W. Portal
The Bishop of Portsmouth
The Earl of Portsmouth
Sir E. J. Poynter (President Royal Academy)
Professor York Powell (Regius Professor of Modern History, Oxford)
Captain E. G. Pretyman, M.P.
Mr. Sheriff Clifford Probyn
Professor G. W. Prothero (Edinburgh University)
Sir James H. Ramsay, Bart.
Canon Rawnsley
Lord Reay, G.C.S.I. (Chairman of London School Board)
Sir Wemyss Reid
Sir W. B. Richmond, K.C.B., R.A.
Marquess of Ripon, K.G., G.C.S.I.
Mr. Briton Riviere, R.A.
Sir J. R. Robinson
Lord Bishop of Rochester
Lord Rothschild
Mr. John Ruskin
Sir Richard Rycroft, Bart.
The Marquess of Salisbury, K.G.
The Earl of Sandwich
The Earl of Scarborough
Sir Samuel Scott, Bart.
Mr. W. J. Sedgefield (Cambridge)
The Earl of Selborne
Rev. E. C. Selwyn, M.A. (Headmaster of Uppingham School)
The Right Hon. G. Shaw Lefevre, L.C.C.
The Lord Mayor of Sheffield
Mr. T. W. Shore, F.G.S.
Professor W. W. Skeat (Cambridge)
Professor H. Sidgwick (Cambridge)
Mr. W. B. Simonds
Hon. W. F. D. Smith, M.P.
Mr. Henry Sotheran
Mr. W. J. Soulsby, C.B.
The President of the Southampton Chamber of Commerce
Lord Bishop of Southwell
Lord Stalbridge (Chairman of London and North-Western Railway Company)
Lord Stanmore
Mr. Leslie Stephen
Lord Strathcona and Mount Royal
Sir Arthur Sullivan
His Excellency the U.S. Ambassador
The Right Hon. J. G. Talbot, M.P.
The Master of the Temple (Rev. Canon Ainger)
Lord Tennyson
Mr. William L. Thomas
Sir E. Maunde Thomson, K.C.B. (British Museum)
Lord Bishop of Truro
Viscount Valentia, M.P.
Cardinal Vaughan
Lord Bishop of Wakefield
Sir Spencer Walpole, K.C.B.
Lord Wantage, V.C.
Rev. Edmund Warre, D.D. (Headmaster of Eton College)
Mr. Ernest A. Waterlow (President Royal Society of Painters in Water
Colours)
Sir Richard E. Webster, G.C.M.G., M.P.
Lord Welby, G.C.B.
The Duke of Wellington
Mr. Julius Wernher
Rev. F. B. Westcott, M.A. (Headmaster of Sherborne School)
The Duke of Westminster
The Dean of Westminster
The Lord Bishop of Winchester
The Dean of Winchester
The Dean of Windsor
Field-Marshal Viscount Wolseley, K.P.
Dr. J. Wood (Headmaster of Harrow School)
Sir H. T. Wood (Secretary Society of Arts)
The Archbishop of York
The Executive Committee.
_Chairman_—The Right Hon. THE LORD MAYOR OF LONDON
_Treasurer_—The Right Hon. Sir J. LUBBOCK, Bart., M.P.
The Right Hon. the Earl of Carlisle
Mr. R. K. Causton, M.P.
The Right Hon. the Lord Lister
The Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of Winchester
The President of the Royal Academy
The Right Hon. J. Bryce, M.P.
His Excellency the Ambassador of the United States
Sir Walter Besant
Mr. Frederic Harrison
The Right Hon. G. Shaw Lefevre, L.C.C.
The President of the Royal Geographical Society
Mr. Walter Morrison, M.P.
Sir Frederick Pollock, Bart.
Sir E. Maunde Thompson, K.C.B.
The President of the London Chamber of Commerce
The Rt. Worshipful the Mayor of Winchester
Sir Arthur Arnold
Sir W. B. Richmond, K.C.B., R.A.
Lord Edmund Fitzmaurice, M.P.
The Chairman of the Committee of the London Stock Exchange
Mr. William Wyndham Portal
The Honourable the Warden of Merton College, Oxford
Mr. Alfred Bowker, _Honorary Secretary_
At a Meeting of the General Committee at the Mansion House, held on the
3rd November 1898, it was unanimously resolved:—
“That the National Memorial decided on at the Mansion House
Meeting of March 18th shall be at Winchester, and consist of
a Statue of King Alfred, together with a Hall to be used as a
Museum of Early English History.”
The Site considered most appropriate for the Statue has been given by the
unanimous vote of the Corporation of Winchester for that purpose.
The Executive Committee have under consideration the expediency of
holding an exhibition of objects pertaining to the Alfred period, in
London, during the anniversary year.
Several other suggested means of Commemoration are before the Committee,
and receiving their consideration, including a Military Review, Naval
Display, Historic Pageant, and a Meeting of Learned Societies.
It is proposed that the Government be approached with a view to obtaining
their co-operation in the Commemoration, on which the execution of some
of the suggestions before the Committee obviously depend.
It is estimated that £30,000 will be required in order to provide a
Memorial worthy of the nation and to cover incidental expenses. It is
hoped that the Memorial will be completed by the time of Commemoration,
so that Funds are now needed that the work may be undertaken forthwith.
Subscriptions are invited (payment of sums of £25 and upwards may be
spread over two years), and may be forwarded either to The Right Hon.
the Lord Mayor of London, the Mansion House, The Right Hon. Sir John
Lubbock, Bart., M.P., care of Messrs. Robarts, Lubbock, and Co., 15
Lombard Street, London, or will be received by any of the following
Banks:—The Bank of England; Messrs. Barclay and Co.; Brown, Janson, and
Co.; Capital and Counties; Coutts and Co.; Cox and Co.; Glyn, Mills,
and Currie; Lloyds; London and County; London and Provincial; London
and South-Western; London and Westminster; London Joint Stock; National
Provincial; Parrs; Prescott and Co.; Smith, Payne, and Smith; Stillwell
and Sons; or may be forwarded to the Honorary Secretary, Guildhall,
Winchester, to whom all communications should be addressed.
BY SIR WALTER BESANT
THE SURVEY OF LONDON
Messrs. A. & C. BLACK have for some time been making arrangements,
which are now completed, for the execution of a new “Survey of London.”
The last edition of Stowe and Strype’s famous work was issued in 1754;
Maitland’s Survey appeared in 1756; Entick’s Survey in 1766; Lambert’s
Survey in 1806: all these were based upon Stowe. Since that time, though
there have been many books written on London, on parts of London, on
churches of London, and on institutions of London, there has been no
actual Survey of London. In this long interval London has extended very
far beyond the modest limits of its walls and suburbs of 1806. At the
present moment the jurisdiction of the London County Council covers
an area, including the old city, which roughly may be estimated at
seventeen miles long by twelve miles broad. The whole of this area is to
be included in the new Survey. The Editor, Director, and the principal
writer of the work is Sir WALTER BESANT, M.A., F.S.A., who has made a
study of London—not only in books, but in exploration of the streets—the
occupation of his leisure hours for more than twenty-five years. The
new work will not be, like those of Maitland and Entick, merely a
reproduction brought up to date of Stowe, but an entirely new work on a
different plan. It will contain a history of London newly written and
illustrated by the records and documents which have been brought to
light during the last fifty years. These papers enable the historian to
reconstruct and to present the city and its people as they were from
age to age; not only the achievement of its liberties will be recorded,
but also the development of its trade, the growth of its political
power, the changes in its religious ideas, the manners and customs of
the people. There will be a perambulation of the whole “County” as well
as of the City proper, in the course of which every ancient building,
every historical association, every Institution—Church, School, Hospital,
Almshouse, Museum, Town Hall, Theatre—every great house of business will
be noted and described.
It is, in short, the desire of the Publishers and the Editor to erect a
monument worthy of this great and venerable city.
The work will be abundantly illustrated with Maps and Drawings of
buildings past and present, and will form at least eight Royal quarto
volumes, the first to be published in 1900, to be followed at short
regular intervals.
A. & C. BLACK, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON.
BY REAR-ADMIRAL THE HON. VICTOR A. MONTAGU
A MIDDY’S RECOLLECTIONS 1853-1860
_In Square Crown 8vo. Printed on Light Paper, with Deckled Edges, and
bound in Buckram. Price 6s._
_Containing 2 Photogravures and 6 other full-page Illustrations._
“Full of interest as illustrating the life of a midshipman afloat in the
last days of the wooden Navy, and as recording a much larger and more
varied share of war experience than has fallen to the lot of most young
officers in these latter days.”—_The Times._
“Few officers could have had so much active service crowded
into the first few years of their career as the author of these
reminiscences.”—_Morning Post._
“The life on board ship, the boisterous humour of the gun-room, and the
stern discipline of those rough-and-tumble days are described with a
sailor’s breezy frankness.”—_Pall Mall Gazette._
“It will interest all who are fond of exciting incident, quite apart from
its personal interest.”—_Outlook._
“His descriptions are written with as much freshness and _verve_ as
if the events recorded were of quite recent occurrence, and with a
sailorly downrightness and infectious good-humour that help to render
this extremely interesting volume a welcome exception to the great
majority of works of its order with which the book market has lately been
flooded.”—_The World._
“Breezy, full of cheerfulness, Admiral Montagu lived his boyhood in
stirring times, and was a part of them. His record is a piece of pleasant
and straightforward work.”—_Country Life._
“The book is full of good things from beginning to end.”—_Army and Navy
Gazette._
“His accounts of active warfare, of pirate-hunting, and shipwreck are
exhilarating, and there are many enlightening pages in the book dealing
with punishments in the Navy, the leisure hours of a middy’s life on
board ship, his duties and companionships.”—_Daily Mail._
“The book is delightfully frank and breezy, and is one which will be
eagerly read.”—_Whitehall Review._
“It says a good deal for Admiral Montagu’s memory that he has been able
to reproduce his impressions of nearly forty years ago so clearly and
pleasantly.”—_Daily Chronicle._
“A most delightful volume. Many delightful records of experience in the
Naval Service have recently appeared, and for genuine interest and frank
and easy style I am disposed to reckon Admiral Montagu’s volume among the
best.”—_Navy and Army Illustrated._
A. & C. BLACK, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON.
BY SIR CLEMENTS R. MARKHAM
THE PALADINS OF EDWIN THE GREAT
_Containing 10 full-page Illustrations by RALPH PEACOCK. Crown 8vo.
Cloth. Gilt edges._
Price 5/
[Illustration: Reduced specimen Illustration.]
OUTLINE OF STORY.
“The author presents to boys a valuable picture of life in Northumbria
thirteen hundred years ago. The scene is laid in the neighbourhood of
York. The early chapter affords a picture of the life, education, and
pleasures of boys of the time. While engaged in a hunting expedition the
four boy heroes, with three companions, are captured by sea robbers,
taken abroad, and fall into the hands of a trader who takes them to Rome
and sells them as slaves. Deacon Gregory buys three of them, two boys are
purchased by Pamphronius, and two by another Roman.”—_Standard._
A. & C. BLACK, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON.
A PRISONER OF FRANCE
BEING THE REMINISCENCES OF THE LATE CAPTAIN CHARLES BOOTHBY, R.E.
_In Square Crown 8vo. Printed on Light Paper, with Deckled Edges, and
bound in Buckram. Price 6s._
_Containing a Frontispiece Portrait of the Author, and several small
Illustrations from Pen-and-ink Sketches in the Author’s journals._
“We cordially recommend this charming bit of autobiography. A page of
it is worth a whole sackful of the trumpery trash which figures in the
publishers’ advertisements as the historical novel.”—_Daily News._
“Exceptionally interesting on account of the details which it supplies
concerning the manner in which he was treated.”—_Glasgow Herald._
“A very vivid picture of military life in the Peninsula.”—_Speaker._
“It is impossible to read his diary without liking a man who
made so light of trouble, and who bore himself so gallantly in
captivity.”—_Standard._
“The cheerfulness with which he writes throughout is singularly
refreshing.”—_Academy._
“It will be read with eager interest.... The narrative often reads like
romance, but the author had too high a sense of probity to palm off
fiction for actual personal experience.”—_Scotsman._
“A very engrossing story.... It abounds in interesting anecdote and in
intelligent observation.”—_The Broad Arrow._
“These Memoirs thoroughly justify their publication, and they will be
perused by students of military history with considerable advantage as
well as keen enjoyment.”—_St. James’s Gazette._
“‘A Prisoner of France’ should be in the hands of all young soldiers, for
it is a manual of soldierly kindness and fine humanity.”—_Vanity Fair._
A. & C. BLACK, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON.
A BRITISH RIFLE MAN
THE JOURNALS AND CORRESPONDENCE OF MAJOR GEORGE SIMMONS, RIFLE BRIGADE,
DURING THE PENINSULAR WAR AND THE CAMPAIGN OF WATERLOO
_In Square Crown 8vo. Printed on Light Paper, with Deckled Edges. Price
10s. 6d._
_Containing 3 Sketch Maps._
“Altogether this is a most attractive book, bringing back vividly to the
memory one of the most brilliant periods of English military history, and
giving a pleasant, because unintentional, picture of a gallant soldier
and gentleman.”—_Standard._
“It will be long invaluable as a record of the heroism, the occasional,
though exceptional, excesses, and the wondrous endurance of the British
soldier.”—_Daily Chronicle._
“It is a far cry now to the Peninsular War, yet seldom have we
read a more realistic picture of certain phases of that heroic
struggle.”—_Speaker._
“Welcome as contributing contemporary records made by an observant man
taking part in world-moulding struggles.”—_Observer._
“This book is certainly one that all riflemen will value, and which all
who are interested in the Peninsular War will enjoy.... The book is thus
fairly packed with interest, for the author belonged to a regiment that
saw more fighting than any other in the Peninsula, and certainly Major
Simmons was a remarkable man.”—_The Army and Navy Gazette._
“An extremely vivid account of the many historic and exciting scenes
witnessed by the writer.”—_Dublin Express._
A. & C. BLACK, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON.
BY JOHN KNOX
THE HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION OF RELIGION WITHIN THE REALM OF SCOTLAND
CONTAINING THE MANNER AND BY WHAT PERSONS THE LIGHT OF CHRIST’S EVANGEL
HATH BEEN MANIFESTED UNTO THIS REALM AFTER THAT HORRIBLE AND UNIVERSAL
DEFECTION FROM THE TRUTH, WHICH HATH COME BY MEANS OF THAT ROMAN
ANTICHRIST 1527 to 1564
EDITED FOR POPULAR USE BY CHARLES JOHN GUTHRIE, Q.C.
_WITH NOTES, SUMMARY, GLOSSARY, INDEX, AND FIFTY-SIX ILLUSTRATIONS_
SECOND EDITION
_In One Volume. Large Crown 8vo. Cloth, Gilt Top. Price 7s. 6d._
“The task is one which Carlyle desired to see accomplished nearly thirty
years ago, when he wrote in one of the least known of his works: ‘It is
really a loss to English and even to universal literature, that Knox’s
hasty and strangely interesting, impressive, and peculiar book ...
has not been rendered far more extensively legible to serious mankind
at large than is hitherto the case.’ It will be interesting to see if
Mr. Guthrie’s labour can restore John Knox’s ‘History’ to the place
of honour it once held, but seems long to have lost, among Scottish
classics.”—_Glasgow Herald._
“Nothing more graphic in incidents and portraiture, or trustworthy in
narrative, than this history remains to us of the literature of the
period. The book represents an immense amount of labour, and needs only
to be casually examined to convince one of the editor’s intelligent care
in its preparation, and of its present-day value. The footnotes are
invariably fresh and informative.”—_Pray and Trust Magazine._
A. & C. BLACK, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON.
BY JUSTIN M’CARTHY, M.P.
AUTHOR OF ‘A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES’
THE STORY OF GLADSTONE’S LIFE
_In One Vol., Extra Crown 8vo. Containing 45 Illustrations, mostly
full-page Portraits representing Mr. Gladstone at different periods.
Price 7s. 6d._
NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION
“It is an excellent piece of work.... The book is the best
existing memoir of Mr. Gladstone, and is not likely to be easily
superseded.”—_Athenæum._
“Mr. M’Carthy’s charm of style and temperament will give it an immediate
place among biographies, and will probably make many in all parties
regard Mr. Gladstone more favourably than hitherto. For the portrait is
charming, sympathetic, and convincing; it does honour to both subject and
painter.”—_Daily Chronicle._
“A calm, judicial, thoroughly well-balanced estimate of Mr. Gladstone as
a man, and an eloquent, accurate, and fascinating account of his eventful
life.”—_Daily Mail._
“The book has deep interest for readers of all shades of political
opinion, and is distinctly the most attractive monograph yet written on
‘the greatest English statesman who has appeared during the reign of
Queen Victoria.’”—_Literature._
“The greatest praise that can be given to the story of a life is that it
charms, fascinates, and has no padding, and all that can be truthfully
said of this book.”—_Star._
“Barrowsful of books have been written about Gladstone. But it would be
difficult to name one which holds the reader fast from first page to end
as Mr. M’Carthy’s does.”—_Echo._
“Extremely well done, and deserves to be widely read.”—_Daily Graphic._
“‘The Story of Gladstone’s Life,’ here rendered as it is with charming
literary grace, will be read with delight all over the English-speaking
world.”—_Weekly Sun._
“This is a charmingly written sketch of Mr. Gladstone’s public career,
with some interesting glimpses at the same time into his private
life.”—_Observer._
“Most brilliantly and charmingly written, and most generously written,
and full of evidences of the impartiality which distinguished his great
‘History of our Own Times.’ And it is written just as a biography of Mr.
Gladstone should be written.”—_The Queen._
A. & C. BLACK, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON.
_THE POET LAUREATE ON KING ALFRED_
_Crown 8vo 5s._
ALFRED THE GREAT
ENGLAND’S DARLING
BY
ALFRED AUSTIN
POET LAUREATE
“Alike by his birth, his character, and his exploits, Alfred is the one
Englishman qualified to be a National Hero.”—_Extract from Preface._
LONDON
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND NEW YORK
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