ALFRED THE GREAT.
"'Tis much he dare:
And, to that dauntless temper of his mind,
He hath a wisdom that doth guide his brain
To act in safety."--SHAKSPERE.
Near Westbury, in Wiltshire, may still be seen a hill, which, as it
overlooks the neighbouring plain, appears rugged, lofty, abrupt, and
difficult of ascent; its summit is marked with the trenches and ditches
which the Danes threw up when they were encamped upon and around it
during the reign of Alfred. This spot the Saxon king resolved to visit
in disguise before he risked the battle on which the fate of his
kingdom depended. To accomplish this, he assumed the character of a
harper, or gleeman, and approaching the enemy's outposts, he attracted
the attention of the sentries by his singing and music; after playing
for some time among the tents of the common soldiers, the minstrel
was at last led by one of the Danish chiefs to the camp of Godrun,
the sea-king. What were the thoughts of Alfred while he looked full
in the face of his enemy as he stood before him in his tent? what was
the air he played--the words he sang?--though Fancy stands ready, with
her lips apart, to pour both into our ear, Truth, with a grave look,
bids us pass on, and from her silence we know they are lost for ever.
That Alfred narrowly reconnoitred their position, is best proved by
the plan he adopted after the victory, when he drew a belt around the
whole intrenchment. After he was dismissed from the Danish encampments
with praise and presents (the latter the plunder of his own subjects),
he hastened to his island retreat at Athelney, and began to make
preparations for attacking the enemy. The naked sword and arrow were
borne by faithful emissaries throughout the whole length and breadth of
the counties of Wiltshire, Hampshire, Dorsetshire, and Somersetshire;
and in addition to the ancient and imperative summons brought by
these war messengers, they were intrusted with the secret of Alfred's
hiding-place, and all were commanded to meet him with the strongest
military force they could muster, within three days from the time
they first received a message. The east side of Selwood Forest, or,
as the Saxon name signifies, The Wood of Willows, was the mustering
ground. The spot itself was marked by Egbert's stone, said to have been
the remains of a druidical monument, and celebrated on account of a
victory which Egbert once won there. This Wood of Willows, in the time
of Alfred, extended about fifteen miles in length, and six in breadth,
stretching over the country which now lies from beyond Frome to Burham.
[Illustration: _Alfred describing the Danish Camp on his return._]
The news of Alfred's being alive, when no tidings had been heard of
him for nearly six months, spread hope and delight throughout all
the adjoining counties; and for three days the west Saxons rushed in
joyfully to the appointed place of meeting; and never before had the
silent shades of Selwood forest been startled by such a braying of
trumpets and clamour of voices as were ever and anon raised to welcome
each new comer--never had Alfred before received such warm-hearted
homage as he did during those three days from his subjects, nor had
king ever before so boldly perilled himself as to enter alone into the
enemy's encampment. A grand sight must it have been to have witnessed
the Saxon banner, with the white horse displayed upon its folds,
floating above that grey old druidical monument--to have seen that
assembly of brave warriors in the morning sunshine encamped beside the
great willow wood, which was then waving in all the green luxuriance
that adorns the willow-tree at the latter end of May. It was a sight
which, once to have seen, would have made an old man die happy. How we
long to know how Alfred looked, and what he wore, the colour of the
horse he rode upon, and what he said to each new-comer, and whether,
during his absence, he looked thinner, or older, or more care-worn. Yet
all this was seen and heard by thousands, although not a record remains
to bring him again before our "mind's eye."
When all was ready, Alfred marched his newly-raised forces into the
enemy's neighbourhood; and though not clearly made out, it would almost
appear as if he encamped for the night on a hill, which fronted the
intrenchments of the Danes. Next morning, both armies drew up on the
plains of Ethandune. Behind the forces commanded by Godrun rose Bratton
Hill, with its strong encampment, and on this the Danes could fall
back if they were defeated; behind Alfred, there lay, miles away, the
little island of Athelney, the bridge, the towers, and the cowherd's
hut; there was nothing, if he looked back, to tempt him to retreat,
only the broad marshes and the wild willow wood for him again to fall
upon. The sea-king little thought, as he looked on, a shade paler than
when he sat listening to the Saxon gleeman in his tent, that the same
minstrel commanded the mighty force which was then arrayed before him.
By his richest armlet of gold, and the shoulder-blade of his choicest
war-horse, he would have sworn, that had he known of the quality of
his harper, he would that night have sent him to have played in the
banquet-hall of Odin.
The Saxons commenced the attack; for the Danish leader, as if something
foreboded a defeat, seemed with his army to hug the foot of his
encampment;--eager, hot, and impetuous, Alfred's soldiers rushed upon
the enemy in that reckless order which often ends in defeat, unless
it is the impulsive outbreak of determined valour. The Danish ranks
were broken for a few moments, then rallied again in the hand-to-hand
fight as they met the foremost Saxons, who had been thrown in amongst
them. In this mingled _mêlée_ of uplifted swords, battle-axes, and
javelins, and while the Danes were slowly regaining the ground they had
lost, a shower of arrows was suddenly poured in amongst them, which
came full and blinding into their faces, and this was followed by the
instant charge of the Saxon spearmen; and to add to the panic which
had fallen upon the Danes, a cry was raised amongst the superstitious
soldiers under Alfred, that one of the Saxon saints had suddenly
appeared amongst them, had seized the banner, and borne it into the
very thickest of the enemy's ranks. From that moment, the Danes began
to retreat; there was no withstanding an army which fought under the
belief that they were led on by a supernatural leader. Alfred himself
had risen up so unexpectedly amongst them, that their enthusiasm,
which had taken the place of despair, was raised to the highest pitch,
they were ready to believe that St. Neot, or any other saint in the
Saxon calendar, had taken their king under his special protection, and
they cheerfully followed the mysterious standard-bearer into the very
heart of the Danish ranks. They scattered the enemy before them like
thistle-down before the autumnal blast; wherever the sea-kings rallied
for a moment, and made head against the islanders, the Saxon storm
tore over them, and they vanished like the foam which the wind tears
from the billow, and bears howling along as it rushes over the waves,
which roll away affrighted before its wrath. The field was strewn with
the dead; never before had the Danes met with so sudden and decisive a
defeat.
Godrun retreated with the shattered remnant of his army into the
intrenchments. Alfred surrounded him in his stronghold; every day
which saw the Danish garrison grow weaker for want of provisions and
water, saw the army of Alfred strengthened by the arrival of new
forces. The Saxon king had not left his enemies a single passage by
which they could escape, without first fighting their way through the
besieging army. On the fourteenth day, Godrun capitulated, and humbly
sued for peace. Generous as he was brave, Alfred readily acceded to
his request, on such mild terms as must have made the invaders ashamed
of the cruelties they had formerly inflicted upon their conquerors.
Alfred well knew the little value that the Danes placed either upon
their oaths or their hostages; the former they had ever broken the
moment they escaped; and as to the latter, they left them either to
perish or be liberated, just as chance directed. They cared not to
come back and redeem their pledges when there was plunder before
them. Alfred knew that England was ample enough for them both; and he
proposed that if they would abandon their pagan creed, and settle down
peaceably, to cultivate the soil, instead of the arts of war, they
should for the future be friends, and he would give them East Anglia
for an inheritance. Godrun thankfully accepted the noble offer, and
was baptized. Alfred became answerable for the "promises and vows"
made by the Danish king at the font. The boundaries of the two nations
were sworn to in a solemn treaty, and Godrun was installed in his new
territory, which he parcelled out amongst his followers. The immense
space of ground which Alfred allotted to the Danish king and his
soldiers consisted of that which is now occupied by the counties of
Norfolk, Suffolk, Cambridgeshire, and Essex, together with portions
of Hertfordshire, Bedfordshire, and even a part of Huntingdonshire.
But Alfred did not rest content with merely presenting them with such
vast territory; he also protected them with the same equal laws; he
made no distinction in the punishment of a crime, whether it was
committed by a Dane or a Saxon--each was to be alike tried by a jury
of twelve men. He made Ethelred, who afterwards married his daughter
Ethelfleda, commander over the kingdom of Mercia, strengthened his
army, and thus planted a strong barrier between that kingdom and the
Danish settlements of Deiri and Bernicia. Cities, and castles, and
fortifications which had fallen into neglect and ruin, he repaired
and rebuilt; he separated the country into hundreds and tythings, and
established a militia, which were to serve for a given number of weeks,
then return home again, and their places to be supplied by others, each
changing about in succession. Hitherto, the Saxons had but little to
defend; but now the country was so well protected, that the soldier
came and went with a cheerful heart, for he no longer found a pile of
blackened ashes to mark the spot where his home had once stood. Instead
of shuddering lest he should see the mangled remains of his wife and
children, or the Danish fires reddening the sky, he now approached
the calm comforts of his humble English home, and slept securely in
the assurance that the eagle eye of Alfred was ever sweeping over
sea and land, and that ten thousand Saxon swords were always ready
to be uplifted at his bidding. Saxon carols were chaunted in the
harvest-fields at the close of the summer of 878; and merry voices were
heard, where only the year before there sounded "the wailing tones of
sad lament," for a mighty mind was now engrossed with the welfare of
the people.
About this time, a large fleet of Danes, under the command of the
famous sea-king Hastings, arrived in the Thames, and, crossing
the country, sought the alliance of Godrun, who with his soldiers
was following the peaceful occupations of husbandry, and the more
useful arts of civilized life, when their Northern brethren landed.
Hastings, finding that he could not win Godrun from his allegiance
to Alfred, after wintering at Fulham, crossed over into Flanders,
where he remained for some time at Ghent. Meantime, Alfred continued
to increase his navy, to build ships of a larger size, and of such
forms as were better adapted to ride out the storm, and to grapple
with the enemy on their own element. The Saxon and Danish ships were
constantly coming in contact on the ocean, and now victory generally
declared itself in favour of the former. In 884, another Danish fleet
invaded England and besieged Rochester, but the citizens valiantly
defended the place until Alfred with his army arrived to relieve them.
No sooner did the Saxon king appear, than the Danes abandoned their
fortress, leaving behind the horses and captives they had brought
over from France; and, hurrying off with their ships, they again set
sail for the coast of Gaul. No sooner were they driven out of England,
than Alfred had to hasten into East Anglia, where a strong force of
Northmen had arrived, and who seemed determined to force the followers
of Godrun into rebellion. Many of the Danish settlers preferred their
old piratical habits to the more peaceful mode of life which Alfred
had compelled them to adopt, and readily took down the battle-axe from
the smoke-discoloured beam where it had so peacefully rested,[6] and
withdrew the club, bristling with iron spikes, the star of the morning,
from its hiding-place, to join the new comers. The first Danish ships
the Saxons attacked, they either captured or sunk, and the Northmen are
said to have fought so fiercely, that every soul on board perished.
Another fleet arrived, and gained some slight advantage over the
Saxons; but in the end Alfred conquered, and compelled the Danes who
occupied East Anglia again to settle down to their peaceful occupations.
The most celebrated sea-king that tried his strength with Alfred, was
Hastings, or Haestan--who again made his appearance--for the weight of
his arm had hitherto fallen upon France and Flanders, and the opposite
coast. For years this famous Vikinger had lived upon the ocean; the
poets of the period extol him as a monarch whose territories were
unbounded, whose kingdom no eye could ever take in at a glance; for
his home was upon the sea, his throne where the tempest rose, and his
sceptre swayed over realms into which the shark, the sea-horse, the
monsters of the deep, and the birds of the ocean dare only venture. He
called his ships together by the sound of an ivory horn, which was ever
suspended around his neck, and the shrill tones of which might be heard
for miles inland, and over the sea--the Saxons called it the Danish
thunder. Whenever that blast broke out, the herdsman hurried his cattle
into the darkest recesses of the forest--the thane barricaded the doors
of his habitation, and the earl drew up his drawbridge, looked up his
armour and his attendants, and never ventured to parley with either
the sea-king or his followers, unless the deep moat was between them.
For a quarter of a century had he harassed the neighbouring nations,
living upon the plunder he obtained, until, weary of leading such an
unsettled life, he resolved to become a king either over the Danes or
the Saxons, and, now that Godrun was dead, he doubted not but that, if
he could conquer Alfred, his own countrymen would gladly accept him for
their monarch.
The mighty mind of Alfred was busy meditating upon the welfare of his
people, and devising plans for their future improvement, when his
study was interrupted by the arrival of this new horde of Northmen,
and he was compelled to throw aside his books and take up the sword.
Skilled alike in a knowledge of both arts and arms, he readily
transformed himself from the statesman to the soldier, and moved, with
but little preparation, from the closet to the camp. A heart less
brave than Alfred's would have quailed at beholding two hundred and
fifty Danish vessels darkening the Kentish coast, especially when the
forces they contained landed safely near the large forest of Andreade,
that far-stretching land of gloomy trees, which had proved so fatal
to the Britons, when Ella led on his Saxon hosts to battle with the
ancient islanders. But Alfred looked on, and remembered the battle of
Ethandune, and his large eye-lids quivered not, neither did a motion
of fear cloud his firmly-chiselled countenance; for he knew that he
reigned in the hearts of his subjects. He saw the fortress carried
which had been erected in the marshes of Romney; beheld his enemies
ravaging the country along the coast, and as far inland as Berkshire;
saw Hastings enter the mouth of the Thames, with eighty ships, and
strongly fortify himself near Milton, and then he began to act.
Wheeling up his army midway, the Saxon king struck in between the two
divisions of the Danish forces; on his right he left them the gloomy
forest of Andreade, and the straits of Dover to fall back upon; on his
left the deep mouth of the Thames, which opens upon the coast of Essex,
yet even there planting a strong force between the shore and their
ships.
Wherever the Danes moved, to the right or to the left, landward or
seaward, the forces of Alfred were upon them. If they endeavoured to
cross over into Essex, they were driven back upon their intrenchments;
if they sought to rejoin their brethren beside the sea-coast, the West
Saxons drove them back. The sea-shores and the skirts of the forest
were guarded with jealous eyes. Wherever a Danish helmet appeared,
there was a Saxon sword already uplifted. Hastings was awe-struck; he
was a prisoner in his own stronghold; he lay like a giant, manacled
with the very fetters his own strength had forged. If he but stirred
a foot, Saxon blows fell thick and heavily upon it, and jarred again
upon the other limb, which stood useless, and so far apart. Alfred left
the Danes who inhabited East Anglia to break loose and ravage at their
will, they could but prey upon each other. He kept them aloof from the
quarry he was hunting down.
Shut up within his camp, and not able to send out a single forager with
safety, Hastings had at last recourse to stratagem, and sent messengers
to Alfred, offering to leave the kingdom if he would guarantee him a
free passage to his ships. To this proposition Alfred consented; but
no sooner had Hastings embarked, as if to fulfil his engagement, than
the other division of the army rushed across the country, in the rear
of Alfred's forces, and crossing the Thames where it was fordable,
landed in Essex, where they met the division assembled under Hastings
at Benfleet. Only a portion, however, passed; for, turning his back
upon the North Foreland, Alfred pursued the remainder into Surrey, and
overtook them at Farnham, where he obtained a complete victory; for
Alfred had so manoeuvred his forces as to place the remnant of the
Danish army between himself and the Thames, and that too at a spot
where it was no longer fordable. Thus, those who escaped the Saxon
swords plunged into the river, and were drowned. Those who could swim,
and a small portion who were fortunate enough to pass the current on
horseback, escaped through Middlesex into Essex, where Alfred pursued
them across the Coln, and finally blockaded them in the isle of Mersey.
Alfred continued the siege long enough to compel the Northmen to sue
for peace, which he granted them, on condition that they at once
quitted England.
But scarcely had Alfred succeeded in defeating the enemy in one quarter
before a new force sprung up, ready armed, and began to make head
against him. The Danes of Northumbria and East Anglia, who had for a
number of years exchanged their swords and spears for the sickle and
the pruning-hook, were no longer able to withstand the temptations
which war and plunder offered; but uniting their forces together,
resolved to attack Wessex. The Essex fleet, which, combined with
that of Hastings, consisted of about a hundred sail, passed without
interruption round the North Foreland, and along the southern coast,
as far as Devonshire, where they laid siege to Exeter. The other
division, consisting of forty vessels that had been fitted out in
Northumbria, sailed round the north of Scotland, and along the western
coast, until they reached the Bristol channel, where they laid siege to
a fortified town on the north of the Severn. No sooner did the tidings
of this new invasion reach the ears of Alfred, than he hastened off to
the relief of Exeter, where he again conquered the Danes, drove them
back to their ships, then, crossing over to the Severn, he compelled
the Northumbrian fleet to hasten out of the Bristol channel, and once
more left the west of England in a state of security.
The movements of Hastings at this period are not very clearly laid
down. He appears to have crossed the Thames again, and once more to
have established himself in Essex, at South Benfleet. But whether it
was here that the camp of the Danish king was broken up and plundered,
and his wife and children taken prisoners, or whether it was when he
abandoned his encampment in Kent that these disasters befel him, it is
difficult to understand, so rapid were the movements of both the Danes
and the Saxons at this period. Alfred, however, baptized both the sons
of Hastings, and loading them with presents, sent them back again,
together with their mother, in safety to the camp of the Danish king.
But delicacy and kindness were alike wasted upon this Danish chief.
Having neither home nor country which he could call his own, and a vast
family of rapacious robbers to provide for, he had no alternative but
either to plunder or starve. He probably would have quitted England,
but he knew not where to go; and his Danish brethren, fearful that he
should settle down with his numerous followers, and take possession of
the land which they had for several years so peacefully cultivated,
chose what appeared to them the least evil, and assisted him to win new
territories from the Saxons.
[Illustration: _Alfred releasing the family of Hastings._]
Leaving a portion of his followers to protect the intrenchment in
Wessex, Hastings marched at the head of a powerful force into Mercia:
for he found it difficult to secure supplies in a neighbourhood which
was so narrowly watched by Alfred. Scarcely was his back turned, before
the Saxons attacked the stronghold he had quitted, and again carried
off his wealth, his family, and his ships. This was the second time
the wife and children of Hastings had fallen into the hands of Alfred.
His chiefs intreated of him to put them to death, for Hastings had
again violated the oath which he had taken to quit the kingdom, but the
noble nature of Alfred recoiled from so cruel and cold-blooded an act,
and loading them a second time with presents, he sent his own followers
to conduct them in safety to the camp of the Danish king. Another
division of the Danes had again attacked Exeter; Alfred hastened with
his cavalry across the country as before, and compelled them to retreat
to their ships. The fleet put out to sea, then doubled again towards
the land, and attacked Chichester; but here they were defeated by the
citizens and the neighbouring peasantry, and hundreds were slain.
When Alfred returned from Exeter, he found Hastings once more
intrenched in Essex, with his forces greatly strengthened by the
Northumbrian and East Anglian Danes, who had joined him in Mercia.
A less active king than Alfred would never have kept pace with the
rapid motions of the Danish monarch. Hastings now boldly sailed up the
Thames. He then marched across to the Severn, where he was followed
by the governor of Mercia, and attacked by the united forces of the
Saxons and the men of South Wales. Alfred again advanced to join them,
and the invaders were hemmed round by the Saxon army in the strong
fortress of Buttington on the Severn. Here Hastings and his followers
were compelled to endure all the horrors of a sharp siege, for to such
straits were the Danes driven, that they were under the necessity of
killing their horses for food. Blockaded alike on the land and on the
river, and reduced to such a state of famine that numbers perished, the
Northmen resolved at last to sally out upon the Saxons, and either to
force a passage through the besieging army, or perish in the attempt.
They rushed out headlong from their intrenchments, with a determined
valour, worthy of a better cause. Thousands were either slain or
drowned; and the remnant, with Hastings at their head, again escaped
into Essex. The loss on the part of the Saxons was also severe; since,
exhausted as the Danes must have been by siege and famine, it would
not have been difficult to have cut off their retreat, had not the
battle been so desperate; for Alfred had to fight with an enemy who was
compelled either to conquer or perish; who had been defeated and driven
from nearly every kingdom on the continent, and who seemed to pine
for a home in a fertile country, where so many of his brethren had
taken up their abode. The very bread he ate depended upon the chances
of plunder; he would have been contented to settle down peaceably, as
Godrun had beforetime done, but when Alfred saw the East Anglian and
Northumbrian Danes rendering their aid to every new-comer, and eager,
as of old, to oppose him, he found that a further extension of such
lenient policy would soon wrest the remainder of the island entirely
from his hands, and he resolved they should yet feel that a Saxon arm
grasped the sceptre of England. None of the sea-kings had kept their
faith like Godrun; he, alone, regarded the oaths which he swore on the
golden bracelets that were sacred to his gods, and remained true to his
allegiance.
The army of Hastings was soon recruited again from the former
resources, and early in the spring he once more set out into the
midland counties, plundering along his march until he reached Chester,
where he again threw up a strong intrenchment. Alfred, at the head
of his army, was soon in pursuit of the dangerous sea-king, and when
he found how strongly he had fortified himself at Chester, the Saxon
monarch had recourse to his old plan of starving out the garrison;
and to effect this purpose he gathered up all the cattle in the
neighbourhood, and all the corn in the district for miles around.
Hastings and his followers had too bitter a remembrance of the famine
they had endured at Buttington, to run another risk of suffering
such privation, while there yet remained a chance of escape; so they
once more forced their way through the Saxon army, rushed into North
Wales, carried off from thence what booty they could, and retreated
into East Anglia through such counties as were inhabited by the Danes,
carefully avoiding every spot which Alfred and his army occupied.
The county of Essex seems always to have been the favourite rallying
point of Hastings, and here he appears to have settled down amongst
his countrymen in the autumn of 896; to protect his ships during the
winter, he built a fortress on the river Lea, which divides Middlesex
from Essex, and there drew up his fleet within a distance of twenty
miles from London. In this neighbourhood he appears to have reposed in
safety until the following summer, when London poured forth its troops
to attack the Danish fortress; but so strongly had Hastings intrenched
himself, that all the military array of Middlesex was unable to
penetrate the encampment of the sea-king.
At the close of summer, Alfred considered it necessary to be in the
neighbourhood of the metropolis, to protect his subjects from the
attacks of the Danes while they gathered in their harvest. Driving
in foragers, attacking outposts, and checking attempted sallies, had
rendered Alfred as familiar with the construction of the invaders'
fortresses as they were themselves; and one day while meditating how he
could most advantageously strike a decisive blow, and compel the enemy
to abandon their stronghold, he hit upon the daring plan of draining
the river Lea, and leaving the whole of the Danish fleet aground. To
accomplish this, he ordered his soldiers to dig three new channels
below the level of the river, and to raise two fortresses on either
side the Lea to protect their operations. He drew off the waters into
a tributary stream which emptied itself into the Thames, so that,
as an old writer says, "where a ship might sail in time afore past,
then a little boat might scarcely row." In the night, Hastings again
broke through the toils with which the inventive genius of Alfred had
encompassed him; and abandoning his ships, which were now useless, he
contrived to send off the wives and children of his followers into East
Anglia, to the care of his countrymen; he thus escaped from Alfred,
and reached Bridgenorth, near the Severn, where he again intrenched
himself. Although, as usual, he was quickly followed by the Saxon king,
yet so strong was the military position which the Danes occupied, that
with the exception of a slight skirmish or two, they were allowed to
pass the winter unmolested. Many of the Danish vessels which Hastings
had left behind were again set afloat, and conducted with great triumph
into the Thames. The remainder were burnt and destroyed.
Harassed and defeated on every hand, the spirit of Hastings at last
bowed down before the superior genius of Alfred; and as dissensions
already began to break out in the Danish camp, the brave but
unfortunate sea-king fitted up his shattered fleet as he best could,
and in the spring of 897 departed for France, where some small portion
of territory was allotted to him by the king, and there he passed the
remainder of his days. A few naval engagements of but little note took
place after the departure of Hastings, in all of which the Saxons were
victorious; and towards the close of his reign Alfred treated these
sea-pirates with great severity, and on one occasion ordered several
of them to be executed. These, however, appear to have belonged to
either Northumbria or East Anglia,--and all such had sworn allegiance
to Alfred. Before the close of his reign, the Saxon fleet consisted of
above a hundred strongly-built and well-rigged vessels, many of these
were manned by Frieslanders, and as they were placed in such situations
as the Danes had generally selected for their landing-places, they
silently overawed and checked the inroads of the enemy, as they went
prowling about "like guardian giants along the coast." This great king
did not survive the departure of Hastings above three years. He died
on the 26th of October, in the year 900, or 901. Hitherto we have been
compelled to confine ourselves to the military achievements of this
celebrated monarch. A summary of his great intellectual attainments,
which a volume would scarcely suffice to contain, we shall attempt to
crowd within the brief space of another chapter.