SOME CLOSING REFLECTIONS
Among the various criticisms which have been elicited by the Alfred
Jewel during the two hundred and seven years which have elapsed since
its discovery in the year 1693, the opinion that the name it bears
is that of the king has not met with more than one definite and
formulated objection. This objection, if it had prevailed, would have
excluded the production of such a work in king Alfred’s time, as a
thing impossible. But the question thus raised has evoked evidence of
so overpowering a nature as not only to neutralize the objection, but
also to increase the balance of probability in favour of the opinion
that the person named on the Jewel is Alfred of Wessex.
The name, combined with the costliness and the strongly marked
individuality of the work, draws the mind naturally to think of the
most remarkable person who bore that name; but, in addition, we have
to consider that it was found in the neighbourhood of the very spot
which is most closely associated with the career of the selfsame
person. In these obvious prima facie elements of the case, there is an
accumulation of probability, which fully justified Hickes in saying
that from his first sight of the Jewel he had never doubted its having
been a personal possession of king Alfred’s[58].
To this central and primary body of evidence other instances of
probability have been added in the course of the present Essay. The
investigation of the Epigraph led us to the conclusion that the
diction answered well to the time of king Alfred’s life, and also that
it bore some resemblance to an analogous piece of his admitted writing.
Our examination of theories concerning the design and use of the Jewel
resulted in the conclusion that the suggestions hitherto advanced were
inadmissible, and of no other value than as narrowing the field of
conjecture. We at least know a number of things that have appeared
plausible in their time, and are now no more to be thought of; namely,
an amulet, a pendant to a collar of state, a decorated umbilicus, the
head of a stilus, a military standard, the handle of a book-pointer,
the tip of a sceptre.
Our review of the abortiveness of early speculations concerning the
design and use of the Jewel drove us by a process of elimination
to seek a place for it in the helmet. In favour of this new theory
historical evidence has been adduced, such as has not been offered
in support of any other explanation. Unless this theory is approved,
both the Alfred Jewel and the minor jewel from Minster Lovel remain
without explanation. There is not so much as a theory in the field. On
the other hand, if this new theory is judged to be right, or to have
high probability, then this circumstance makes strongly in favour of
the identification of the Jewel with king Alfred. For it points to a
warrior, a helmet-wearer, and to a person of commanding position.
One of the effects of the present investigation upon myself has been
to convince me (in the face of what I counted a settled opinion) that
the enamelled Figure is a product of these islands; and that it is not
necessary for us to look abroad towards Byzantium, or further east,
for a satisfactory account of it. This unity again is in favour of
identification with Alfred of Wessex, whose conspicuous interest in
jewellers’ work is asserted by a well-sustained tradition.
* * * * *
The symbolism of the Jewel appears to contain an allegorical
representation of the designer’s position, both inherited and chosen,
both national and personal. His religious standing is pictured in the
Figure and its back-plate; and the ancient religion of his nation in
the boar’s head, once dominant, now under foot, forming a pedestal
for the Head of the Church. And to this I will add the surmise, that
perhaps the scales or waves on the small triangular space in the
reverse signify that his country is an island in the ocean.
I am not without apprehension that these explanations may strike some
readers as too minute and too far-fetched, and that I may be charged
with bringing out of the Jewel more than is in it. I will therefore
endeavour to anticipate this charge with a few apologetic words. And
first of all, I think it well to state that I did not set out with
any idea of discovering latent meanings in the Jewel. When first I
discoursed upon it, I contented myself with exhibiting drawings of
the object, narrating the story of the discovery, explaining the
inscription, and rehearsing the opinions which had been put forward
concerning such a remarkable find. This furnished material to fill
an hour, and to satisfy an audience. Whatever I have added to the
traditional exegesis has broken in upon me from time to time at wide
intervals, causing me on such occasions more surprize and pleasure
than I can hope to impart to my readers.
For those who would test the symbolism of the Jewel, there is an
obvious preliminary question. Is there any reason to think that Alfred
had an aptitude and a fondness for allegory? This question has been
to me a valuable guide in observations on the extant writings of the
king. It would be easy to show, by examples drawn from his writings,
that he had a marked fondness for imagery and parable, that his
habit of mind inclined to all figures of analogy and similitude. It
was not a previous knowledge of these in the writings that led me to
look for them in the Jewel, but reversely. I am not aware that any one
had called attention to this characteristic in the writings: I do not
think I apprehended it from any other source than the Jewel itself. In
regard to this particular feature, the Jewel has (for me) thrown light
on the writings, and these again have reflected illustration back upon
the Jewel. I hope this explanation may make it easier for some to
think that the imagery of the Jewel is a strong indication that Alfred
of Wessex was the designer.
It was with this aim that, in chapter vii, I quoted the poetical
Epilogue to Alfred’s _Pastoralis_, and with the same aim I now proceed
to quote a long-drawn simile in prose, which the king inserted into
his translation of Boethius’ _De Consolatione Philosophiæ_. It is in
the fourth book, where the discussion is about Providence and Fate[59].
In the abstract and implicit manner natural to the sage of a mature
and over-blown culture, Boethius had illustrated the relation between
Providence and Fate by the relation between the centre of the circle
and its circumference. This analogy is stated in mathematical fashion.
A series of concentric circles offer points of external contact more
numerous in some and less numerous in others, according as their
circumference is nearer or further from the common centre, but the
centre itself is unaffected by such chances; it remains always the
same, one and indivisible. The stable centre is Divine Providence;
by the various contact of the circumferences with external things is
represented the vicissitude of Fate or Fortune.
This refined similitude was translated by king Alfred, out of the
diamond-cut succinct Latin of Boethius, into the homely speech of his
own people, by means of a concrete figure that was familiar to every
son of the soil.
Accordingly some things in this world are subject to Fate, some are
no whit subject thereto: but Fate, and all the things subject to
it, are in subjection to Divine Providence. Concerning this I can
rehearse unto thee a similitude, whereby thou mayest the better
understand, which men be subject to Fate, and which be not. All this
moving and revolving creation revolves upon God, who is immovable,
unchangeable, and one: and he wieldeth all creatures just as he at
the first had ordained, and still doth ordain.
As on a waggon’s axle the wheels revolve and the axle standeth still
and beareth the whole waggon and governs all the motion; while the
wheel turns about, and the nave next to the axle moves more steadily
and more securely than the fellies do: in such a manner that the
axle is the highest good, which we call God, and the happiest men
move nighest to God, even as the nave moveth nighest to the axle,
and the middling sort are just like the spokes; forasmuch as every
spoke hath one end fast in the nave and the other end in the felly.
So it is with men of the middling sort; at one time he thinks in his
mind about this earthly life, at another time about the heavenly;
like a man looking with one eye to heaven and with the other to
earth. Just as the spokes have one end sticking in the felly and the
other in the nave, while the middle of the spoke is equally near to
both, even so are the middling men in the middle of the spoke, and
the better men nearer to the nave, and the meaner men nearer to the
fellies: they are, however, in connexion with the nave, and the nave
with the axle. So now, the fellies though they are attached to the
spokes, yet are they altogether rolling upon the earth; so are the
meanest connected with the middling and the middling with the best
and the best with God. Though the meanest men all direct their love
to this world, yet can they not rest thereon, nor be of any account,
unless they be in some measure associated with God, any more than
the wheel’s fellies can be in progress, unless they be attached to
the spokes and the spokes to the axle. The fellies are the farthest
from the axle; therefore they move the most unevenly. The nave moves
next to the axle; and that is why it has the surest motion. So do
the happiest men: as they set their love nearer to God, and more
resolutely contemn these earthly things, so are they more free from
care, and less they reck how Fate may chance to turn, or what it
may bring. In like manner the nave is continually so sure, jolt the
fellies on whatso they may jolt; and this even though the nave is
somewhat apart from the axle. By this figure thou mayest understand
that as the waggon is much more durably sound, the less it is parted
from the axle; so are those men the freest of all from care (whether
about anxieties of this life or of the next) who are fast in God: but
in whatever degree they are asunder from God, in the same degree are
they worried and harassed, both in mind and in body.
This prose simile is unquestioned as an original piece of king
Alfred’s authorship, and so is also the poetical epilogue to his
_Pastoralis_, which was quoted above in the seventh chapter. Can
any one doubt that his mind was exuberantly fertile in allegorical
thought, and shall it be judged a thing improbable that in his
imaginative youth, having recently passed through a very grand and
rude transition of experience, he should have strained the plasticity
of a favourite craft to body forth the symbolic expression of thoughts
too deep for common speech?
As the course of investigation into the variety and unity of this
composite Jewel brings it more and more home to the creative mind of
Alfred, the conviction rises that this work represents no passing
freak of artistic fancy, nor the fond elaboration of some fascinating
idea (as in a sonnet); but rather that we have before us the
thoughtful record of a period of life and a phase of some duration,
containing serious reflections by one who had reached a higher stage
of observation, a stage commanding a wider outlook. Of some such
a crisis as this the Alfred Jewel appears to be the pictorial and
symbolic monument.
And if this impression is sound, it ought to help us to some further
conclusions. We ought with this help to be able to form some estimate
of the period in which this Jewel was designed. However we may lament
the poverty of detailed incident in the life of Alfred, we are not
ignorant of its main divisions. And we are now in a position to ask—To
which of these divisions does this carefully elaborated design most
naturally belong?
In seeking materials for the answer to this question, I will first
consider the probabilities of the case, which are suggested by the
course of public events: and then, secondly, I will come to the
indications which are personal to Alfred himself. This plan may tend
to clearness, though it be not feasible to keep the two aspects quite
apart.
For a basis to this enquiry, we must take the year 878, as being that
in which the Jewel disappeared. This is now an established point in
our argument. To this we were led both by history and by tradition:
and it is only by keeping as close as possible to these that we can
shun the proclivities of arbitrary hypothesis.
1. Taking then the year 878 as that in which Alfred saw the Jewel
for the last time, how far back must we recede to come to the most
probable time for his inventing it? Our first step must be to skip
the seven years since his accession in 871. A glimpse at the events
of that period may suffice to assure us that the constant pressure of
sterner duties would have left him in no mood to amuse himself with
enamel and filigree. And even if for the sake of winter relaxation he
had done so, I think he would not have designated himself as plain
Ælfred, when he was king. During his reign his constant style was
ÆLFRED CYNING, and it would have been quite easy to have
added the letter R to his name, as his father did when he ordered the
fashion of his ring. For these reasons (among others), I think the
Jewel was made before 871.
We may still recede another long step, and say that the date we seek
was probably before 866. That is the year in which Alfred began to
share the burden of reigning without the title, the year in which
the common danger entered upon a new and more menacing phase, as the
heathen invasion began to be more systematically conducted. Wessex was
not indeed attacked until the last of these five years, but the whole
period must have been passed in apprehension and intense preparation.
Accordingly, this process of reasoning back from the year 878 by the
light of public events brings us to the result that the design and
execution of the Jewel is probably to be dated before A.D.
866, that is to say, it must belong to the reign of king Æthelberht.
2. Coming now to the second process, we have to consider at what
time it appears likely that Alfred might have been in the mood for
such a work as this, and also in circumstances (as to his immediate
surroundings) favourable for artistic and allegorical meditation.
When does it appear likely that he had leisure for thinking out these
details, while at the same time his mind was exercised with the themes
represented in the Jewel? It was certainly subsequent to his return
from Rome; not immediately, but after an interval, when the first
agitation of his mind had subsided, and he had become reconciled to
his lot.
For we cannot doubt that when he returned from Rome to England, and
witnessed the state of his country—the danger and the depression—he
must have experienced a great revulsion of feeling, a strong outburst
of regret for the long and happy time that he had been enjoying
abroad. His passionate yearning for Rome and his friends there must
have amounted to something like a violent fit of home-sickness. All
this it was his duty to live down; and to do so he had to look the
facts in the face, and take their measure and their bearing, and
ascertain their relation to his path of duty, and interpret his
position by the light of a religious conscience. Some earnest and
ardent minds would find solace and strength in writing poetry, and
perhaps Alfred did so. If this Jewel is not the equivalent of such a
poem it is nearly akin to it. In constructive art there certainly is a
solace of a healing kind, and the Jewel before us answers remarkably
to the situation. It is in many particulars like the outcome of such a
mood. And if such a mood is likely to have followed the return of the
young prince to England, it concerns us to form some opinion about the
probable date of that event.
It is asserted in the bilingual Chronicle (F) that Alfred returned to
England on the occasion of his father’s death, which took place in
January, 858; but the statement is discredited by considerations which
Mr. Plummer has given in his notes to the _Saxon Chronicle_ (vol.
ii, p. 80). Two years later, in 860, his eldest brother, Æthelbald,
king of Wessex, died; and this event occasioned a definite call for
his return. The three brothers, Æthelbald, Æthered, and Ælfred, held
lands in common which were given by their father to these three sons,
in such a way that the whole was to come to the latest survivor. This
property would now pass to the two brothers, Æthered and Ælfred;
and for the sanction of this transfer it was necessary that the
parties should appear before the Witan. This transaction is related
in Alfred’s Will. The two brothers agreed that their joint property
should be held in trust by Æthelbriht, the new king, and that he
should farm it for the benefit of his younger brothers, a trust which
he fully discharged.
At the death of Æthelbriht and the accession of Æthered in 866, the
heathen invasion began to assume a more alarming form; but the reign
of Æthelbriht had been a quiet time, at least for Wessex. This period
(860 to 866), from Alfred’s thirteenth to his eighteenth year, would
be a time of leisure, and he would be at the age of youthful reverie,
and his mind would be stimulated by reports that would reach his ear
of the savagery of the heathen raids in neighbour and kindred nations
contrasted with the humanities of Christianity, while his memory
would contrast the learned culture of Rome with the ignorance of his
own people. These appear to be apt conditions for exercising the mind
of a serious prince with such thoughts as we find symbolized in the
Alfred Jewel.
* * * * *
In collecting evidence for the argument of this Essay, I have been
solicitous to omit nothing that seemed to make for the credit of a
Jewel, concerning which I am persuaded in my own mind that it bears
the authentic signature of Alfred of Wessex. I hope that this aim
has not betrayed me into the use of any arguments which are of no
validity. And if any reader’s opinion should be against me on this
point, I would ask him to consider that in the region of probability
all men do not judge exactly alike: one may think a particular fact
or tradition of no argumentative value, while another may hesitate to
exclude it. And even if any such instance were disallowed and ruled to
be of no weight, still it cannot invalidate the rest.
Morally, it may damage the effect of the whole, because it may
prejudice the mind of the reader; but logically, it leaves the
argumentative effect of the rest where it was before. Such being
the case, I have leaned toward comprehension as being the more
useful course; and if I have erred I hope I may claim the reader’s
indulgence, on the ground of being faithful to the view which I had of
the task before me.
In this scientific age, there are more persons who can appreciate a
train of exact serial reasoning than of those who can do justice to a
combination of probabilities. It is not very rare to find disputants
capable of testing a mathematical demonstration, who if they had to
examine a probable argument might dismiss it with the proverbial
maxim, which says that no chain is stronger than its weakest link.
There are arguments which are like a chain, and to them the maxim
applies: one weak link vitiates the conclusion. Such are the
demonstrations in Euclid. But the argument which runs through this
book is not of that kind, rather it resembles a bundle, and to such
the maxim does not apply. It cannot be said, for example, that no
faggot is stronger than its weakest stick. And this is the simile
which applies to the evidence in probable reasoning. It is not
linked, but massed.
When Gulliver awoke on the shore of Liliput and found that he was
fastened to the ground, the threads which bound him were severally
slight, but the total effect was irresistible. Analogous thereto was
the combined effect of many partial and inconclusive arguments on the
mind of Sir Francis Palgrave, when he testified that ‘no one, taking
all the points of evidence together, can reasonably doubt but that it
did belong to king Alfred[60].’
This conclusion may now be somewhat amplified. I trust we are now in
a position to say with reasonable confidence, that not only did this
Jewel belong to Alfred of Wessex, having been made by his order; but
further, that it was his work, having been made after his design; and
further again, that the design referred to, and was based upon, his
own position; and, moreover, that the Jewel was a production of his
youth, of the period after his return from Rome, and before he assumed
a share in public affairs by the side of his brother Æthelred.
[58] See above, p. 8.
[59] The Anglo-Saxon text may be found in Cardale’s edition (1829),
p. 338, and in the recent edition by Mr. Sedgefield, p. 129.
[60] See above, p. 84.
[Illustration: THE JEWEL, FRONT AND BACK.]
APPENDIX A
THE FIRST PUBLISHED NOTICE OF THE ALFRED JEWEL
(pp. 25 and 144)
The following is an Article in the _Philosophical Transactions_ of the
Royal Society of London, vol. xx, No. 247, page 441:—
_Part of a Letter from Dr. Musgrave, Fellow of the College of
Physicians and R. S., to Dr. Sloane; concerning a Piece of
Antiquity lately found in Somersetshire._
I enclose, to you, the Figure (see Fig. 4) of a curious piece
of Antiquity, lately found near Ashelney in Somersetshire; the
Place where King Alfred built, as Milton affirms, a Fortress: But
according to William of Malmsbury, a Monastery; in Memory (as some
have thought) of his Deliverance, obscure Retreat to that Place, and
Concealment in it, from the Danes.
The Substance is in the Possession of Col. P. of Fairfield in the
same County; by whose Permission, I had the Sight of it. ’Tis of the
same Length and Breadth with the Figure: the Work very fine; so as to
make some Men question its true Age: But in all probability, it did
belong to that great King, it is so well represented in the Figure,
that a short Description will suffice.
The Edge is thin, as far as the Letters. The Letters are on a Plane
rising obliquely. All within the inner Pyramidal Line is on a Plane
equi-distant from the Reverse. The Representation (in that upper
Plane) seems to be of some Person in a Chair. It is in Enamel,
cover’d over with a Crystal; which is secured in its place by the
little Leaves coming over its Edges. In the Reverse are Flowers
engraved. The whole piece may be of the Weight of Three Guineas. The
Chrystal and Enamel excepted, it is all of pure Gold.
This, perhaps, was an Amulet of King Alfred’s.
EXON, _Dec. 10, 1698_.
APPENDIX B
ST. NEOT AND ST. CUTHBERT
(pp. 29 and 74)
Among the tentative interpretations of the enamelled Figure both of
these saints have at different times been put forward, as was only
natural, since they both hold a place in the current narratives of
king Alfred’s life. But it is well to observe that their several
relations to the stream of tradition are neither equal nor alike.
The first is found united with that stream in the tenth century,
that is to say, at the highest point which has been reached in the
investigation of these episodes. As to what is told of St. Neot,
however unlikely, it cannot be pronounced impossible that it may have
had some original right to the place which it holds. The second is a
transparent fraud, introduced in the twelfth century by wrong-headed
zeal. A few details will make this clear.
The oldest source for the life of St. Neot is an Anglo-Saxon
homily of that well-known type which sprang out of the monastic
revival associated with the names of Odo and Æthelwold and Dunstan.
Conspicuous examples of this type are the Lives of St. Edmund, King
and Martyr, and of St. Swithun.
At this epoch the relics of St. Neot (by a traffic too intricate for
us to unravel) were removed from their natural resting-place at St.
Neots in Cornwall, where the man had lived and died, to enrich a new
foundation in Huntingdonshire, where influential persons were planting
a new monastery, which became a second St. Neots. We may pretty
safely assume that this event, which happened about 984, gave rise
to the biography, in which the relations of St. Neot to Alfred form
the distinguishing feature. Of this writing only a late and somewhat
interpolated copy has reached our times.
The modern historian will not hesitate to say of St. Cuthbert that his
relations to Alfred are wholly fictitious; but he cannot undertake to
say the same of St. Neot. Nevertheless, they are equally out of the
question so far as regards the _icuncula_. The idea that the Figure
might be St. Neot is excluded by the homily, which places the death of
St. Neot shortly before the troubles of Alfred, and the accepted date
is 877. According to the most probable chronology we have been able to
make out for the Jewel, it was fabricated before 866.
* * * * *
The legendary connexion of St. Cuthbert with Alfred dates from the
twelfth century, and is apparently due to Simeon the historian, who
was a monk of the monastery of Durham, and who, when about thirty-five
years old, witnessed the impressive ceremonial of the translation of
the great saint of the North Country, which took place in 1104.
When he compiled his narrative of the reign of king Alfred, he
sacrificed facts of history to the fame of the saint. Omitting
genuine details which he had at hand, he subjected the capital events
of Alfred’s life to the patronage of St. Cuthbert. Thus he begins:
‘In the year 877 the nefarious host quitted Exeter and came to
Chippenham and wintered there. King Alfred in those days endured great
tribulations and lived an unsettled life. Being encouraged with an
explicit oracle by St. Cuthbert, king Alfred fought against the Danes,
at the time and in the place which the saint had directed, and gained
the victory, and from that time forward he was terrible and invincible
to his enemies. The manner in which he vanquished his foes is related
as followeth.’
In such a manner was this figment introduced into the page of history,
where it long continued in good repute. Hickes was so much swayed by
it, that he relinquished his first interpretation of the _icuncula_ in
favour of St. Cuthbert.
If the connexion of Alfred with St. Neot is (as it may well be) of a
mythical nature, or even an invention of the biographer, he did but
use the licence which was then accorded to the panegyrist; and it is
very different from that abuse of the authority of the historian which
introduced St. Cuthbert into the narrative of the deeds of Alfred.
APPENDIX C
THE TWO-SCEPTERED FIGURE IN THE BOOK OF KELLS
(p. 78)
I am indebted to Miss Swann for the following extract from Professor
Westwood’s _Miniatures and Ornaments of Anglo-Saxon and Irish Art_ (p.
29):
The drawing representing (as I apprehend) the Temptation of the
Saviour occurs on fol. 202 v., and is copied in my Plate XI.
Here the bust of the Saviour is represented at the summit of an
elaborately ornamented conical design, which I suppose represents a
‘pinnacle of the temple’ rather than the ‘exceeding high mountain.’
The head of the Saviour is surrounded by a cruciferous nimbus, like
that of the Virgin in the above-described drawing, and He appears to
hold a roll in His left hand.
Two very rudely designed angels hover above His head, and two others
occupy the upper angles of the picture, the interstices of the latter
being filled in with foliage and branches springing from vases; that
on the right hand being in an unusual position.
The strangely emaciated black figure of the Tempter (destitute of
tail, but with hoof-like feet), and the crowd of heads at the side
and bottom of the design, as also the bust within a frame holding two
rosette-bearing rods, merit particular notice.
My interpretation of the Irish Figure was made solely from a study of
the picture itself, without suggestion from any quarter. I had great
difficulty in making up my mind whether the meaning were a personage
at a window in the building, or whether it were simply a framed
picture exhibited in front of the building. I was not then aware of
Professor Westwood’s description, which takes the latter view. It is
obvious that this view gives to the representation the nature of a
reflection or comment more pointedly than the view which I have taken
in the text.
I will here add another quotation from Professor Westwood, in which
he describes and characterizes the _Book of Kells_: ‘It is the most
astonishing book of the Four Gospels which exists in the world, and
it is in Trinity College, Dublin, where it was placed along with
the books of Archbishop Usher, after his death in 1656, where it has
since remained, and where I trust it will ever remain, as the glory of
Ireland’ (_The Book of Kells: a Lecture_, &c., p. 6).
For a partial illustration of the contents of this Appendix, see the
illustration facing p. 77.
APPENDIX D
THE BRITISH ORIGIN OF THE ENAMELLED FIGURE
(p. 91)
I am greatly indebted to my friend Mr. C. F. Bell, the Assistant
Keeper of the Ashmolean Museum, for the following observations upon
the technical characteristics of early _cloisonnée_ enamels. These
observations are very germane to, and indeed were partly occasioned
by, the questions which surround the Enamel in the Alfred Jewel.
Setting aside the reliquary at Poitiers, which, if it could really
justify its claim to having been a gift of Justinian II to St.
Radigund, would be by far the oldest piece of Byzantine enamel
work in existence, as well as all such specimens as have no
inscriptions or documentary evidence to indicate their age, there
exist, apparently, only two enamelled objects of supposed Byzantine
workmanship that can be maintained to be older than the Alfred Jewel.
These are the iron crown of Monza and the golden altar of Saint
Ambrose at Milan.
With regard to the first, apart from the controversy as to whether it
truly was amongst the jewels given to the cathedral by Theodolinda,
there seems to be some uncertainty as to whether there is any
_cloisonnée_ enamel about the crown at all. Du Sommerard, who was
allowed to make a drawing of it which is reproduced in his _Arts
au Moyen Age_ (Album, série x, pl. 14), speaks of incrustations
of jewels, but makes no mention of enamel. His carefully coloured
illustration shows the plaques described by Labarte (_Arts
Industriels_, i. 312), but the emerald-green ground that figures in
the description is not indicated. Du Sommerard’s plate fails in one
or two other particulars to tally with Labarte’s description; and
as the latter speaks of his difficulty in obtaining a sight of the
crown, it is possible that he mistook in this instance, as he appears
to have done in the case of the Limburg reliquary, what M. Molinier
(_Trésor de Saint Marc de Venise_, p. 48) calls _la verroterie
cloisonnée_—that is, presumably, glass mosaic inlaid in golden
cells—for _cloisonnée_ enamel. At any rate, some fresh opinion is
surely needed to establish the iron crown as a monument of this class
of enamel work.
To turn to the altar of Saint Ambrose. It was made in 838; and
Labarte admits that the Latin inscriptions upon it, and the Latin
name of its artist, proclaim the Italian origin of the greater part
of the work. But the enamels which form a comparatively unimportant
part of the decoration ‘doivent,’ he says, ‘avoir été exécutés par
un des artistes grecs qui travaillaient en grand nombre en Italie
à cette époque. On remarquera que les carnations des figures sont
rendues en émail blanc opaque’ (_Histoire des Arts Industriels_,
iii. 10). Of these enamels the most striking appear to be eight
small, circular medallions upon the doors at the back of the altar.
These medallions do not form an integral portion of the work, but are
affixed, in the manner of jewels, to the framework of the silver-gilt
bas-reliefs, and may in fact be amongst those very English enamels
whose discovery upon the early shrines in continental churches and
museums Mr. Starkie Gardner predicts (_Catalogue of European Enamels
exhibited at the Burlington Fine Arts Club_, 1897, p. ix). Each
represents a diademed head seen in full face, a palm branch, or
perhaps a wing, appearing above each shoulder against a translucent
green background. In motive they thus present an extraordinarily
close parallel to the Alfred Jewel (Du Sommerard, _Arts au Moyen
Age_, Album, série ix, planches 18 and 19).
The earliest enamels of incontestably Byzantine origin, which can be
dated with accuracy by documentary evidence, seem to go no further
back than the beginning of the tenth century. It cannot, however, be
said that these works, with those of closely subsequent periods, have
the appearance of being the productions of the school in its infancy
and early development. Very considerable technical accomplishment
is shown in the manipulation of the extremely narrow gold cloisons,
disposed for the most part in straight or slightly curved lines, and
filling even the spaces of the drapery with closely laid chevrons or
parallel stripes; while the innumerable minute cells thus formed are
filled with homogeneous, brilliant, many-hued enamels. A warm tone of
pink is invariably used to represent flesh.
An impressive object, possessing certain characteristics in common
with the Jewel and other supposed Celtic-Saxon enamels, is the eagle
fibula found at Mainz, and now in the museum there. The present
setting of the enamelled eagle has been supposed to be Frankish,
of the latter part of the tenth or earlier years of the eleventh
century, and the eight small enamelled jewels inserted in the border
confirm this view, as they closely resemble the jewels incrusted upon
the frame of the Crucifixion plaque in the Reiche-Capelle at Munich,
which has usually been attributed to that age (Von Hefner-Alteneck,
_Trachten des christlichen Mittelalters_; Schlumberger, _Nicephorus
Phocas_). The figure of the eagle, presumably, consisted originally
of five plaques, one representing the head, another the tail, two
others the outspread wings, and a fifth the body of the bird. This
last is missing, its place having been supplied, apparently at
the time the setting was made, by a plaque of engraved gold. This
circumstance seems in favour of the idea that the enamels are of
foreign workmanship, and earlier than the setting.
The cloisons of neither the eagle nor the Roach Smith ouche are as
narrow as those employed by the Byzantine enamellers, although they
are at most only half the width of those made use of in the Alfred
Jewel. The doubling of the cloisons into loops, not commonly seen in
Byzantine work but remarkable in the Jewel, is also noticeable in
the eagle. Amongst the five colours employed in the eagle are the
dark, translucent green, and the yellow, considered by Mr. Gardner
as characteristic of Celtic-Saxon enamels, and also the opaque white
such as is used for the flesh tint in the Jewel and the ouche, and,
as Labarte particularly remarks, in the closely analogous heads upon
the altar of Saint Ambrose.
Of all these monuments the enamel of the Alfred Jewel is at once the
coarsest and most primitive in execution. Having been protected by
the rock-crystal pane, its surface is presumably in much the same
state as when it left the maker’s hands. It was, evidently, when it
came out of the furnace, extremely uneven and rough, and had to be
subjected to a grinding process, traces of which are still apparent.
The gold cloisons are dull with minute scratches, and where two ran
close together they have become one confused, ragged line. Both the
eagle and the ouche, although exposed for long periods to the direct
action of the soil, preserve a far higher degree of polish.
Yet the rough workmanship by itself cannot, it must be remembered,
be held to preclude the Byzantine origin of this enamel, since, as
there is not known to exist a single indisputably dated work of
the Byzantine school in its primitive stages, it is impossible to
assert that this school was not, during the lifetime of king Alfred,
producing work as rude in execution as the Jewel. It may be that
such a specimen will some day make its appearance, and determine
the Eastern origin of this enamel and all cognate works. It is also
possible that the discovery of an undoubtedly Irish example may place
above all dispute the contention that it is of Celtic-Saxon origin,
and finally justify the absorption into the same class of the ouche,
the eagle, the eight medallions upon the altar of Saint Ambrose, nay,
even of the crown of Theodolinda itself.
APPENDIX E
ATHELNEY ABBEY
(p. 115)
[Illustration]
The Abbey of Athelney was founded by king Alfred, in pious gratitude
for mercies received. There are no remains now visible on its site.
The materials have doubtless passed into the neighbouring farm
buildings. The spot is marked by a monumental pillar, which was
erected in 1801 by the then proprietor of the land, with an historical
inscription, which is not too inaccurate for the time in which it was
composed. It runs thus:
King Ælfred the Great, in the year of our Lord 879, having been
defeated by the Danes, fled for refuge to the forest of Athelney,
where he lay concealed from his enemies for the space of a whole
year. He soon after regained possession of the throne; and in
grateful remembrance of the protection he had received, under the
favour of Heaven, he erected a monastery on this spot, and endowed it
with all the lands contained in the Isle of Athelney. To perpetuate
the memory of so remarkable an incident in the life of that
illustrious prince, this edifice was founded by John Slade, Esq., of
Maunsel, the proprietor of Athelney, and lord of the manor of North
Petherton, A.D. 1801.
The present representative of this gentleman is his
great-great-grandson, Sir Cuthbert Slade of Maunsel, Bart., lord of
the Manor of North Petherton.
The Abbey of Athelney never attained to any considerable wealth or
importance; but a sculptured boss, which was found on the site, and
which is here figured in two aspects, after drawings by Mr. Alfred A.
Clarke of Wells, seems to indicate some costly architecture among the
abbey buildings in the fourteenth century.
[Illustration]
APPENDIX F
NORTH NEWTON CHURCH
(p. 139)
The church of North Newton has features suggestive of ancient
celebrity, but the dates which are historically known, do not mount so
high as might have been expected. The tower, which is the oldest part,
and to which the high antiquity of a thousand years has been popularly
attributed, speaks by its architecture, which is here represented.
The earliest known date connected with the fabric is 1292, in which
year the foundation stone of the elder chapel was laid by Richard
de Barfleur, called also Richard de Plesseto. This being a chantry
chapel, the endowment was taken away in 1548, and the fabric decayed.
In the time of Charles I, Sir Thomas Wrothe built a new chapel and
provided a stipend for the minister, which still continues. The
Parable Door, the Oak Screen, and the Pulpit are evidently of the same
period, and were probably given by the same benefactor.
[Illustration: THE TOWER OF NORTH NEWTON CHURCH.]
The village of North Newton, originally a chapelry, was separated
from the mother parish of North Petherton, and formed into an
ecclesiastical parish on the twenty-third day of March, 1880. It is
situated two miles north of Durston Station (Great Western Railway),
four and a half south-west of Bridgwater, and seven north-east of
Taunton. These particulars are taken from a little book entitled _The
Church and Parish of St. Peter’s, North Newton_, by the Rev. L. H.
King, M.A., Vicar; to whom I am also personally indebted for some
interesting local information.
APPENDIX G
THE PRESENTATION OF THE ALFRED JEWEL TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
(pp. 140 and 145.)
I have been favoured by Sir Alexander Acland Hood with the following
extract from the Manuscript of Mr. Thomas Palmer, which is preserved
in Fairfield House:—
‘NEWENTON, NEWTON, OR PETHERTON PARK.
‘The Park and Manor of Newenton belonged to the King at the time of
the general survey, and probably this is the Petherton where king
John held his court. The House was on the north side of the Park,
where there is now a tenement called Parker’s Field. At this place
a remarkable piece of antiquity was dug up in the year 1693, which
is, by Dr. Hickes and other antiquaries, adjudged to have been of the
age of King Alfred, the letters being such as were introduced by this
King in imitation of the Roman Alphabet, and never used before or
since.
‘Doctor Hickes interprets this inscription to be “Alfred ordered me
to be made”; and supposes the enamelled figure to be the picture of
St. Cuthbert, the tutelar saint of that King. The whole is of gold,
over the enamel is a piece of rock crystal, half an inch thick: the
gold rim is cut through to form the letters of the inscription. This
is now among the antiquities of the University of Oxford.’
The Keeper of the Archives (Mr. Bayne of Christ Church) has kindly
made search at my request, and he writes: ‘I have gone carefully
through the Convocation Register for 1718, and can find no reference
to the Jewel, nor to Mr. Palmer who died 6 March, 1735.’
The Register of Benefactions of the Ashmolean Museum has a paragraph
in Latin, which however gives no information on this point.
The most interesting piece I have found on this point is in
Collinson’s _History of Somerset_ (1791), vol. i, p. 87, where he is
speaking of Athelney Abbey: it is as follows:—
Some allusion to the vision of St. Cuthbert above-mentioned is
supposed to have been intended by a little curious amulet of enamel
and gold, richly ornamented, that was found in 1693 in Newton Park,
at some distance northward from the abbey. On one side of it is a
rude figure of a person sitting crowned, and holding in each hand a
sceptre surmounted by a lily, which Dr. Hickes and other antiquaries
have imagined to be designed for St. Cuthbert. The other side is
filled by a large flower, and round the edge is the following legend:
AELFRED MEC HEIT GEVVRCAN; that is, _Alfred ordered me to be made_.
This piece of antiquity is now in the museum at Oxford, accompanied
with the accounts of doctors Hickes and Musgrave, and the following
memorandum: “Nov. 16, 1718, Tho. Palmer, esq; of Fairfield in
Somersetshire, put this ancient picture of St. Cuthbert, made by
order of king Alfred, into my hands to bee conveyed to y^r Bodlean
Library in Oxford, where his father Nat. Palmer, esq; lately dead,
desired it might be placed and preserved.
“Geo. Clark.”
[Illustration: ATHELNEY.]
Transcriber’s Notes:
- Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
- Blank pages have been removed.
- Silently corrected typographical errors.
- Spelling and hyphenation variations made consistent except in
quotations.