ENGLAND UNDER THE GOOD SAXON, ALFRED
Alfred the Great was a young man, three-and-twenty years of age, when
he became king. Twice in his childhood, he had been taken to Rome,
where the Saxon nobles were in the habit of going on journeys which
they supposed to be religious; and, once, he had stayed for some time
in Paris. Learning, however, was so little cared for, then, that at
twelve years old he had not been taught to read; although, of the sons
of King Ethelwulf, he, the youngest, was the favourite. But he had—as
most men who grow up to be great and good are generally found to have
had—an excellent mother; and, one day, this lady, whose name was
Osburga, happened, as she was sitting among her sons, to read a book of
Saxon poetry. The art of printing was not known until long and long
after that period, and the book, which was written, was what is called
‘illuminated,’ with beautiful bright letters, richly painted. The
brothers admiring it very much, their mother said, ‘I will give it to
that one of you four princes who first learns to read.’ Alfred sought
out a tutor that very day, applied himself to learn with great
diligence, and soon won the book. He was proud of it, all his life.
This great king, in the first year of his reign, fought nine battles
with the Danes. He made some treaties with them too, by which the false
Danes swore they would quit the country. They pretended to consider
that they had taken a very solemn oath, in swearing this upon the holy
bracelets that they wore, and which were always buried with them when
they died; but they cared little for it, for they thought nothing of
breaking oaths and treaties too, as soon as it suited their purpose,
and coming back again to fight, plunder, and burn, as usual. One fatal
winter, in the fourth year of King Alfred’s reign, they spread
themselves in great numbers over the whole of England; and so dispersed
and routed the King’s soldiers that the King was left alone, and was
obliged to disguise himself as a common peasant, and to take refuge in
the cottage of one of his cowherds who did not know his face.
Here, King Alfred, while the Danes sought him far and near, was left
alone one day, by the cowherd’s wife, to watch some cakes which she put
to bake upon the hearth. But, being at work upon his bow and arrows,
with which he hoped to punish the false Danes when a brighter time
should come, and thinking deeply of his poor unhappy subjects whom the
Danes chased through the land, his noble mind forgot the cakes, and
they were burnt. ‘What!’ said the cowherd’s wife, who scolded him well
when she came back, and little thought she was scolding the King, ‘you
will be ready enough to eat them by-and-by, and yet you cannot watch
them, idle dog?’
At length, the Devonshire men made head against a new host of Danes who
landed on their coast; killed their chief, and captured their flag; on
which was represented the likeness of a Raven—a very fit bird for a
thievish army like that, I think. The loss of their standard troubled
the Danes greatly, for they believed it to be enchanted—woven by the
three daughters of one father in a single afternoon—and they had a
story among themselves that when they were victorious in battle, the
Raven stretched his wings and seemed to fly; and that when they were
defeated, he would droop. He had good reason to droop, now, if he could
have done anything half so sensible; for, King Alfred joined the
Devonshire men; made a camp with them on a piece of firm ground in the
midst of a bog in Somersetshire; and prepared for a great attempt for
vengeance on the Danes, and the deliverance of his oppressed people.
But, first, as it was important to know how numerous those pestilent
Danes were, and how they were fortified, King Alfred, being a good
musician, disguised himself as a glee-man or minstrel, and went, with
his harp, to the Danish camp. He played and sang in the very tent of
Guthrum the Danish leader, and entertained the Danes as they caroused.
While he seemed to think of nothing but his music, he was watchful of
their tents, their arms, their discipline, everything that he desired
to know. And right soon did this great king entertain them to a
different tune; for, summoning all his true followers to meet him at an
appointed place, where they received him with joyful shouts and tears,
as the monarch whom many of them had given up for lost or dead, he put
himself at their head, marched on the Danish camp, defeated the Danes
with great slaughter, and besieged them for fourteen days to prevent
their escape. But, being as merciful as he was good and brave, he then,
instead of killing them, proposed peace: on condition that they should
altogether depart from that Western part of England, and settle in the
East; and that Guthrum should become a Christian, in remembrance of the
Divine religion which now taught his conqueror, the noble Alfred, to
forgive the enemy who had so often injured him. This, Guthrum did. At
his baptism, King Alfred was his godfather. And Guthrum was an
honourable chief who well deserved that clemency; for, ever afterwards
he was loyal and faithful to the king. The Danes under him were
faithful too. They plundered and burned no more, but worked like honest
men. They ploughed, and sowed, and reaped, and led good honest English
lives. And I hope the children of those Danes played, many a time, with
Saxon children in the sunny fields; and that Danish young men fell in
love with Saxon girls, and married them; and that English travellers,
benighted at the doors of Danish cottages, often went in for shelter
until morning; and that Danes and Saxons sat by the red fire, friends,
talking of King Alfred the Great.
All the Danes were not like these under Guthrum; for, after some years,
more of them came over, in the old plundering and burning way—among
them a fierce pirate of the name of Hastings, who had the boldness to
sail up the Thames to Gravesend, with eighty ships. For three years,
there was a war with these Danes; and there was a famine in the
country, too, and a plague, both upon human creatures and beasts. But
King Alfred, whose mighty heart never failed him, built large ships
nevertheless, with which to pursue the pirates on the sea; and he
encouraged his soldiers, by his brave example, to fight valiantly
against them on the shore. At last, he drove them all away; and then
there was repose in England.
As great and good in peace, as he was great and good in war, King
Alfred never rested from his labours to improve his people. He loved to
talk with clever men, and with travellers from foreign countries, and
to write down what they told him, for his people to read. He had
studied Latin after learning to read English, and now another of his
labours was, to translate Latin books into the English-Saxon tongue,
that his people might be interested, and improved by their contents. He
made just laws, that they might live more happily and freely; he turned
away all partial judges, that no wrong might be done them; he was so
careful of their property, and punished robbers so severely, that it
was a common thing to say that under the great King Alfred, garlands of
golden chains and jewels might have hung across the streets, and no man
would have touched one. He founded schools; he patiently heard causes
himself in his Court of Justice; the great desires of his heart were,
to do right to all his subjects, and to leave England better, wiser,
happier in all ways, than he found it. His industry in these efforts
was quite astonishing. Every day he divided into certain portions, and
in each portion devoted himself to a certain pursuit. That he might
divide his time exactly, he had wax torches or candles made, which were
all of the same size, were notched across at regular distances, and
were always kept burning. Thus, as the candles burnt down, he divided
the day into notches, almost as accurately as we now divide it into
hours upon the clock. But when the candles were first invented, it was
found that the wind and draughts of air, blowing into the palace
through the doors and windows, and through the chinks in the walls,
caused them to gutter and burn unequally. To prevent this, the King had
them put into cases formed of wood and white horn. And these were the
first lanthorns ever made in England.
All this time, he was afflicted with a terrible unknown disease, which
caused him violent and frequent pain that nothing could relieve. He
bore it, as he had borne all the troubles of his life, like a brave
good man, until he was fifty-three years old; and then, having reigned
thirty years, he died. He died in the year nine hundred and one; but,
long ago as that is, his fame, and the love and gratitude with which
his subjects regarded him, are freshly remembered to the present hour.
In the next reign, which was the reign of Edward, surnamed The Elder,
who was chosen in council to succeed, a nephew of King Alfred troubled
the country by trying to obtain the throne. The Danes in the East of
England took part with this usurper (perhaps because they had honoured
his uncle so much, and honoured him for his uncle’s sake), and there
was hard fighting; but, the King, with the assistance of his sister,
gained the day, and reigned in peace for four and twenty years. He
gradually extended his power over the whole of England, and so the
Seven Kingdoms were united into one.
When England thus became one kingdom, ruled over by one Saxon king, the
Saxons had been settled in the country more than four hundred and fifty
years. Great changes had taken place in its customs during that time.
The Saxons were still greedy eaters and great drinkers, and their
feasts were often of a noisy and drunken kind; but many new comforts
and even elegances had become known, and were fast increasing. Hangings
for the walls of rooms, where, in these modern days, we paste up paper,
are known to have been sometimes made of silk, ornamented with birds
and flowers in needlework. Tables and chairs were curiously carved in
different woods; were sometimes decorated with gold or silver;
sometimes even made of those precious metals. Knives and spoons were
used at table; golden ornaments were worn—with silk and cloth, and
golden tissues and embroideries; dishes were made of gold and silver,
brass and bone. There were varieties of drinking-horns, bedsteads,
musical instruments. A harp was passed round, at a feast, like the
drinking-bowl, from guest to guest; and each one usually sang or played
when his turn came. The weapons of the Saxons were stoutly made, and
among them was a terrible iron hammer that gave deadly blows, and was
long remembered. The Saxons themselves were a handsome people. The men
were proud of their long fair hair, parted on the forehead; their ample
beards, their fresh complexions, and clear eyes. The beauty of the
Saxon women filled all England with a new delight and grace.
I have more to tell of the Saxons yet, but I stop to say this now,
because under the Great Alfred, all the best points of the
English-Saxon character were first encouraged, and in him first shown.
It has been the greatest character among the nations of the earth.
Wherever the descendants of the Saxon race have gone, have sailed, or
otherwise made their way, even to the remotest regions of the world,
they have been patient, persevering, never to be broken in spirit,
never to be turned aside from enterprises on which they have resolved.
In Europe, Asia, Africa, America, the whole world over; in the desert,
in the forest, on the sea; scorched by a burning sun, or frozen by ice
that never melts; the Saxon blood remains unchanged. Wheresoever that
race goes, there, law, and industry, and safety for life and property,
and all the great results of steady perseverance, are certain to arise.
I pause to think with admiration, of the noble king who, in his single
person, possessed all the Saxon virtues. Whom misfortune could not
subdue, whom prosperity could not spoil, whose perseverance nothing
could shake. Who was hopeful in defeat, and generous in success. Who
loved justice, freedom, truth, and knowledge. Who, in his care to
instruct his people, probably did more to preserve the beautiful old
Saxon language, than I can imagine. Without whom, the English tongue in
which I tell this story might have wanted half its meaning. As it is
said that his spirit still inspires some of our best English laws, so,
let you and I pray that it may animate our English hearts, at least to
this—to resolve, when we see any of our fellow-creatures left in
ignorance, that we will do our best, while life is in us, to have them
taught; and to tell those rulers whose duty it is to teach them, and
who neglect their duty, that they have profited very little by all the
years that have rolled away since the year nine hundred and one, and
that they are far behind the bright example of King Alfred the Great.