ALFRED'S ACCESSION TO THE THRONE
At the battle in which Alfred's brother, Ethelred, whom Alfred
succeeded on the throne, was killed, as is briefly mentioned at the
close of chapter fourth, Alfred himself, then a brave and energetic
young man, fought by his side. The party of Danes whom they were
contending against in this fatal fight was the same one that came
out in the expedition organized by the sons of Lothbroc, and whose
exploits in destroying monasteries and convents were described in the
last chapter. Soon after the events there narrated, this formidable
body of marauders moved westward, toward that part of the kingdom
where the dominions more particularly pertaining to the family of
Alfred lay.
There was in those days a certain stronghold or castle on the River
Thames, about forty miles west from London, which was not far from
the confines of Ethelred's dominions. The large and populous town of
Reading now stands upon the spot. It is at the confluence of the River
Thames with the Kennet, a small branch of the Thames, which here flows
into it from the south. The spot, having the waters of the rivers for
a defense upon two sides of it, was easily fortified. A castle had
been built there, and, as usual in such cases, a town had sprung up
about the walls.
The Danes advanced to this stronghold and took possession of it, and
they made it for some time their head-quarters. It was at once the
center from which they carried on their enterprises in all directions
about the island, and the refuge to which they could always retreat
when defeated and pursued. In the possession of such a fastness, they,
of course, became more formidable than ever. King Ethelred determined
to dislodge them. He raised, accordingly, as large a force as his
kingdom would furnish, and, taking his brother Alfred as his second in
command, he advanced toward Reading in a very resolute and determined
manner.
He first encountered a large body of the Danes who were out on a
marauding excursion. This party consisted only of a small detachment,
the main body of the army of the Danes having been left at Reading to
strengthen and complete the fortifications. They were digging a trench
from river to river, so as completely to insulate the castle, and make
it entirely inaccessible on either side except by boats or a bridge.
With the earth thrown out of the trench they were making an embankment
on the inner side, so that an enemy, after crossing the ditch, would
have a steep ascent to climb, defended too, as of course it would be
in such an emergency, by long lines of desperate men upon the top,
hurling at the assailants showers of javelins and arrows.
While, therefore, a considerable portion of the Danes were at work
within and around their castle, to make it as nearly as possible
impregnable as a place of defense, the detachment above referred to
had gone forth for plunder, under the command of some of the bolder
and more adventurous spirits in the horde. This party Ethelred
overtook. A furious battle was fought. The Danes were defeated, and
driven off the ground. They fled toward Reading. Ethelred and Alfred
pursued them. The various parties of Danes that were outside of the
fortifications, employed in completing the outworks, or encamped in
the neighborhood, were surprised and slaughtered; or, at least,
vast numbers of them were killed, and the rest retreated within the
works--all maddened at their defeat, and burning with desire for
revenge.
The Saxons were not strong enough to dispossess them of their
fastness. On the contrary, in a few days, the Danes, having matured
their plans, made a desperate sally against the Saxons, and, after a
very determined and obstinate conflict, they gained the victory, and
drove the Saxons off the ground. Some of the leading Saxon chieftains
were killed, and the whole country was thrown into great alarm at
the danger which was impending, that the Danes would soon gain the
complete and undisputed possession of the whole land.
The Saxons, however, were not yet prepared to give up the struggle.
They rallied their forces, gathered new recruits, reorganized their
ranks, and made preparations for another struggle. The Danes, too,
feeling fresh strength and energy in consequence of their successes,
formed themselves in battle array, and, leaving their strong-hold,
they marched out into the open country in pursuit of their foe. The
two armies gradually approached each other and prepared for battle.
Every thing portended a terrible conflict, which was to be, in fact,
the great final struggle.
The place where the armies met was called in those times Æscesdune,
which means Ashdown. It was, in fact, a hill-side covered with ash
trees. The name has become shortened and softened in the course of the
ten centuries which have intervened since this celebrated battle, into
Aston; if, indeed, as is generally supposed, the Aston of the present
day is the locality of the ancient battle.
The armies came into the vicinity of each other toward the close of
the day. They were both eager for the contest, or, at least, they
pretended to be so, but they waited until the morning. The Danes
divided their forces into two bodies. Two kings commanded one
division, and certain chieftains, called _earls_, directed the
other. King Ethelred undertook to meet this order of battle by
a corresponding distribution of his own troops, and he gave,
accordingly, to Alfred the command of one division, while he himself
was to lead the other. All things being thus arranged, the hum and
bustle of the two great encampments subsided at last, at a late hour,
as the men sought repose under their rude tents, in preparation for
the fatigues and exposures of the coming day. Some slept; others
watched restlessly, and talked together, sleepless under the influence
of that strange excitement, half exhilaration and half fear, which
prevails in a camp on the eve of a battle. The camp fires burned
brightly all the night, and the sentinels kept vigilant watch,
expecting every moment some sudden alarm.
The night passed quietly away. Ethelred and Alfred both arose early.
Alfred went out to arouse and muster the men in his division of the
encampment, and to prepare for battle. Ethelred, on the other hand,
sent for his priest, and, assembling the officers in immediate
attendance upon him, commenced divine service in his tent--the service
of the mass, according to the forms and usages which, even in that
early day, were prescribed by the Catholic Church. Alfred was thus
bent on immediate and energetic action, while Ethelred thought that
the hour for putting forth the exertion of human strength did not come
until time had been allowed for completing, in the most deliberate and
solemn manner, the work of imploring the protection of Heaven.
Ethelred seems by his conduct on this occasion to have inherited from
his father, even more than Alfred, the spirit of religious devotion at
least so far as the strict and faithful observance of religious forms
was concerned. There was, it is true, a particular reason in this case
why the forms of divine service should be faithfully observed, and
that is, that the war was considered in a great measure a religious
war. The Danes were pagans. The Saxons were Christians. In making
their attacks upon the dominions of Ethelred, the ruthless invaders
were animated by a special hatred of the name of Christ, and they
evinced a special hostility toward every edifice, or institution, or
observance which bore the Christian name. The Saxons, therefore, in
resisting them, felt that they were not only fighting for their own
possessions and for their own lives, but that they were defending
the kingdom of God, and that he, looking down from his throne in
the heavens, regarded them as the champions of his cause; and,
consequently, that he would either protect them in the struggle, or,
if they fell, that he would receive them to mansions of special glory
and happiness in heaven, as martyrs who had shed their blood in his
service and for his glory.
Taking this view of the subject, Ethelred, instead of going out to
battle at the early dawn, collected his officers into his tent, and
formed them into a religious congregation. Alfred, on the other hand,
full of impetuosity and ardor, was arousing his men, animating them by
his words of encouragement and by the influence of his example, and
making, as energetically as possible, all the preparations necessary
for the approaching conflict.
In fact, Alfred, though his brother was king, and he himself only a
lieutenant general under him, had been accustomed to take the lead in
all the military operations of the army, on account of the superior
energy, resolution, and tact which he evinced, even in this early
period of his life. His brothers, though they retained the scepter, as
it fell successively into their hands, relied mainly on his wisdom and
courage in all their efforts to defend it, and Ethelred may have been
somewhat more at his ease, in listening to the priest's prayers in his
tent, from knowing that the arrangements for marshaling and directing
a large part of the force were in such good hands.
The two encampments of Alfred and Ethelred seem to have been at some
little distance from each other. Alfred was impatient at Ethelred's
delay. He asked the reason for it. They told him that Ethelred was
attending mass, and that he had said he should on no account leave his
tent until the service was concluded. Alfred, in the mean time, took
possession of a gentle elevation of land, which now would give him an
advantage in the conflict. A single thorn-tree, growing there alone,
marked the spot. The Danes advanced to attack him, expecting that, as
he was not sustained by Ethelred's division of the army, he would be
easily overpowered and driven from his post.
Alfred himself felt an extreme and feverish anxiety at Ethelred's
delay. He fought, however, with the greatest determination and
bravery. The thorn-tree continued to be the center of the conflict for
a long time, and, as the morning advanced, it became more and more
doubtful how it would end. At last, Ethelred, having finished his
devotional services, came forth from his camp at the head of his
division, and advanced vigorously to his faltering brother's aid.
This soon decided the contest. The Danes were overpowered and put to
flight. They fled at first in all directions, wherever each separate
band saw the readiest prospect of escape from the immediate vengeance
of their pursuers. They soon, however, all began with one accord
to seek the roads which would conduct them to their stronghold at
Reading. They were madly pursued, and massacred as they fled, by
Alfred's and Ethelred's army. Vast numbers fell. The remnant secured
their retreat, shut themselves up within their walls, and began to
devote their eager and earnest attention to the work of repairing and
making good their defenses.
This victory changed for the time being the whole face of affairs,
and led, in various ways, to very important consequences, the most
important of which was, as we shall presently see, that it was the
means indirectly of bringing Alfred soon to the throne. As to
the cause of the victory, or, rather, the manner in which it was
accomplished, the writers of the times give very different accounts,
according as their respective characters incline them to commend, in
man, a feeling of quiet trust and confidence in God when placed in
circumstances of difficulty or danger, or a vigorous and resolute
exertion of his own powers. Alfred looked for deliverance to the
determined assaults and heavy blows which he could bring to bear upon
his pagan enemies with weapons of steel around the thorn-tree in the
field. Ethelred trusted to his hope of obtaining, by his prayers
in his tent, the effectual protection of Heaven; and they who have
written the story differ, as they who read it will on the question to
whose instrumentality the victory is to be ascribed. One says that
Alfred gained it by his sword. Another, that Alfred exerted his
strength and his valor in vain, and was saved from defeat and
destruction only by the intervention of Ethelred, bringing with him
the blessing of Heaven.
In fact, the various narratives of these ancient events, which are
found at the present day in the old chronicles that record them,
differ always very essentially, not only in respect to matters of
opinion, and to the point of view in which they are to be regarded,
but also in respect to questions of fact. Even the place where this
battle was fought, notwithstanding what we have said about the
derivation of Aston from Æscesdune, is not absolutely certain. There
is in the same vicinity another town, called Ashbury, which claims the
honor. One reason for supposing that this last is the true locality is
that there are the ruins of an ancient monument here, which, tradition
says, was a monument built to commemorate the death of a Danish
chieftain slain here by Alfred. There is also in the neighborhood
another very singular monument, called The White Horse, which also
has the reputation of having been fashioned to commemorate Alfred's
victories. The White Horse is a rude representation of a horse, formed
by cutting away the turf from the steep slope of a hill, so as to
expose a portion of the white surface of the chalky rock below of such
a form that the figure is called a horse, though they who see it seem
to think it might as well have been called a dog. The name, however,
of _The White Horse_ has come down with it from ancient times, and
the hill on which it is cut is known as The White Horse Hill. Some
ingenious antiquarians think they find evidence that this gigantic
profile was made to commemorate the victory obtained by Alfred and
Ethelred over the Danes at the ancient Æscesdune.
However this may be, and whatever view we may take of the comparative
influence of Alfred's energetic action and Ethelred's religious faith
in the defeat of the Danes at this great battle, it is certain that
the results of it were very momentous to all concerned. Ethelred
received a wound, either in this battle or in some of the smaller
contests and collisions which followed it, under the effects of which
he pined and lingered for some months, and then died. Alfred, by his
decision and courage on the day of the battle, and by the ardor and
resolution with which he pressed all the subsequent operations during
the period of Ethelred's decline, made himself still more conspicuous
in the eyes of his countrymen than he had ever been before. In looking
forward to Ethelred's approaching death, the people, accordingly,
began to turn their eyes to Alfred as his successor. There were
children of some of his older brothers living at that time, and they,
according to all received principles of hereditary right, would
naturally succeed to the throne; but the nation seems to have thought
that the crisis was too serious, and the dangers which threatened
their country were too imminent, to justify putting any child upon the
throne. The accession of one of those children would have been the
signal for a terrible and protracted struggle among powerful relatives
and friends for the regency during the minority of the youthful
sovereign, and this, while the Danes remained in their strong-hold at
Reading, in daily expectation of new re-enforcements from beyond the
sea, would have plunged the country in hopeless ruin. They turned
their eyes toward Alfred, therefore, as the sovereign to whom they
were to bow so soon as Ethelred should cease to breathe.
In the mean time, the Danes, far from being subdued by the adverse
turn of fortune which had befallen them, strengthened themselves in
their fortress, made desperate sallies from their intrenchments,
attacked their foes on every possible occasion, and kept the country
in continual alarm. They at length so far recruited their strength,
and intimidated and discouraged their foes, whose king and nominal
leader, Ethelred, was now less able than ever to resist them, as to
take the field again. They fought more pitched battles; and, though
the Saxon chroniclers who narrate these events are very reluctant to
admit that the Saxons were really vanquished in these struggles, they
allow that the Danes kept the ground which they successively took post
upon, and the discouraged and disheartened inhabitants of the country
were forced to retire.
In the mean time, too, new parties of Danes were continually arriving
on the coast, and spreading themselves in marauding and plundering
excursions over the country. The Danes at Reading were re-enforced
by these bands, which made the conflict between them and Ethelred's
forces more unequal still. Alfred did his utmost to resist the tide of
ill fortune, with the limited and doubtful authority which he held;
but all was in vain. Ethelred, worn down, probably, with the anxiety
and depression which the situation of his kingdom brought upon him,
lingered for a time, and then died, and Alfred was by general consent
called to the throne. This was in the year 871.
It was a matter of moment to find a safe and secure place of deposit
for the body of Ethelred, who, as a Christian slain in contending with
pagans, was to be considered a martyr. His memory was honored as that
of one who had sacrificed his life in defense of the Christian faith.
They knew very well that even his lifeless remains would not be safe
from the vengeance of his foes unless they were placed effectually
beyond the reach of these desperate marauders. There was, far to the
south, in Dorsetshire, on the southern coast of England, a monastery,
at Wimborne, a very sacred spot, worthy to be selected as a place of
royal sepulture. The spot has continued sacred to the present day; and
it has now upon the site, as is supposed, of the ancient monastery, a
grand cathedral church or minster, full of monuments of former days,
and impressing all beholders with its solemn architectural grandeur.
Here they conveyed the body of Ethelred and interred it. It was a
place of sacred seclusion, where there reigned a solemn stillness and
awe, which no _Christian_ hostility would ever have dared to disturb.
The sacrilegious paganism of the Danes, however, would have respected
it but little, if they had ever found access to it; but they did
not. The body of Ethelred remained undisturbed; and, many centuries
afterward, some travelers who visited the spot recorded the fact that
there was a monument there with this inscription:
"IN HOC LOCO QUIESC'T CORPUS ETHELREDI REGIS WEST SAXONUM, MARTYRIS,
QUI ANNO DOMINI DCCCLXXI., XXIII. APRILIS, PER MANUS DANORUM
PAGANORUM, OCCUBUIT."[1]
Such is the commonly received opinion of the death of Ethelred. And
yet some of the critical historians of modern times, who find cause to
doubt or disbelieve a very large portion of what is stated in ancient
records, attempt to prove that Ethelred was not killed by the Danes
at all, but that he died of the plague, which terrible disease was at
that time prevailing in that part of England. At all events, he died,
and Alfred, his brother, was called to reign in his stead.
[Footnote 1: "Here rests the body of Ethelred, king of West Saxony,
the Martyr, who died by the hands of the pagan Danes, in the year of
our Lord 871."]