Alfred the Great was a young man three and twenty years of age when he
became king of England. Twice in his childhood he had been taken to
Rome, where the Saxon nobles were in the habit of going on pilgrimages,
and once he had stayed for some time in Paris. Learning, however, was
so little cared for in those days that at twelve years of age he had not
been taught to read, although he was the favorite son of King Ethelwulf.
But like most men who grew up to be great and good, he had an excellent
mother. One day this lady, whose name was Osburga, happened, as she sat
among her sons, to read a book of Saxon poetry. The art of printing was
not known until long after that period. The book, which was written, was
illuminated with beautiful, bright letters, richly painted. The brothers
admiring it very much, their mother said, “I shall give it to that one
of you 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.
[Illustration: CHARLES DICKENS]
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 that they would quit the country. They pretended that they
had taken a very solemn oath; but they thought nothing of breaking
oaths, and treaties, too, as soon as it suited their purpose, and of
coming back again to fight, plunder, and burn.
One fatal winter, in the fourth year of King Alfred’s reign, the Danes
spread themselves in great numbers over England. They so dispersed the
king’s soldiers that Alfred 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 him.
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 the king was at work upon his bow and
arrows, with which he hoped to punish the false Danes when a brighter
time should come. He was thinking deeply, too, of his poor, unhappy
subjects, whom the Danes chased through the land. And so 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. They killed the Danish chief, and captured the
famous flag, on which was the likeness of a raven. The loss of this
standard troubled the Danes greatly. They believed it to be enchanted,
for it had been woven by the three daughters of their king in a single
afternoon. And they had a story among themselves, that when they were
victorious in battle, the raven would stretch his wings and seem to fly;
and that when they were defeated, he would droop.
It was important to know how numerous the Danes were, and how they were
fortified. And so King Alfred, being a good musician, disguised himself
as a 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 feasted. 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.
Right soon did this great king entertain them to a different tune.
Summoning all his true followers to meet him at an appointed place, he
put himself at their head, marched on the Danish camp, defeated the
Danes, and besieged them 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 all depart from
that western part of England, and settle in the eastern. Guthrum was an
honorable chief, and forever afterwards he was loyal and faithful to the
king. The Danes under him were faithful, too. They plundered and burned
no more, but ploughed and sowed and reaped, and led good honest lives.
And the children of those Danes played many a time with Saxon children
in the sunny fields; and their elders, Danes and Saxons, sat by the red
fire in winter, talking of King Alfred the Great.
All the Danes, however, were not like these under Guthrum. After some
years, more of them came over in the old plundering, burning way. Among
them was a fierce pirate named Hastings, who had the boldness to sail up
the Thames with eighty ships. For three years there was war with these
Danes; and there was a famine in the country, too, and a plague, upon
both human creatures and beasts. But King Alfred, whose mighty heart
never failed him, built large ships, with which to pursue the pirates on
the sea. 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 labors 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 one of his labors was to
translate Latin books into the English-Saxon tongue, that his people
might be improved by reading them.
He made just laws that his people might live more happily and freely. He
turned away all partial judges that no wrong might be done. He 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 them. 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, and happier in all ways than he had found
it.
His industry was astonishing. Every day he divided into 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, all of
the same size and notched across at regular distances. These candles
were always kept burning, and as they burned down he divided the day
into notches, almost as accurately as we now divide it into hours upon
the clock. But it was found that the wind and draughts of air, blowing
into the palace through the doors and windows, caused the candles to
burn unequally. To prevent this the king had them put into cases formed
of wood and white horn. And these were the first lanterns ever made in
England.
King Alfred died in the year 901; but as 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.--CHARLES DICKENS.