[Sidenote: Further evidence for the text of Asser in the tenth century.]
§ 25. We saw in the last lecture that there was good evidence for the
existence of our text of Asser, apart from the interpolations made by
sixteenth and seventeenth century editors, about the year 975. Another
argument pointing the same way is derived from the text of Simeon of
Durham.
[Sidenote: Simeon of Durham.]
In that writer’s Historia Regum there exists a double recension of
the Annals 848-951, both of which are, for the years 848-888, largely
derived, mediately or immediately, from Asser. The explanation of
this curious fact given by Mr. Thomas Arnold in his interesting and
able introduction to the edition of Simeon in the Rolls Series, is as
follows[107]. The earlier recension is the work of a Cuthbertine monk,
writing at Chester-le-Street in the second half of the tenth century,
who drew largely on Asser for the reign of Alfred, farcing the text
however (to use a liturgical term) with many rhetorical flourishes of
his own. When Simeon, at the beginning of the twelfth century, embodied
the Cuthbertine’s work in his Historia Regum, his better taste was
revolted by these florid insertions, and he rewrote these annals, not
wholly discarding his predecessor’s work, but using in addition both
the original text of Asser, and also the recent work of Florence of
Worcester. (The fact, which can be demonstrated, that Simeon used (1)
the original text of Asser; (2) Asser as farced by the Cuthbertine; (3)
Asser as revised by Florence, is one which I commend to the notice of
students of the synoptic problem[108].) Had Simeon lived to give his work
the final revision, he would no doubt have cancelled the earlier version
of these annals. As it is, his literary executors embodied both versions;
and we may be thankful that they did so, as they have thereby preserved
some interesting evidence both literary and historical.
If then Mr. Arnold’s theory is correct, as I believe it to be, we have
once more evidence of the existence of a text of Asser before the end of
the tenth century. This however, though probable, is only a theory. But,
even if it be rejected, the argument of the preceding section remains
unaffected.
[Sidenote: The palaeographical evidence unimportant.]
§ 26. Seeing then that we can trace our Asser text back at least as far
as the year 974, the palaeographical question as to the date of Wise’s
MS. becomes comparatively unimportant. And it is well that it is so; for
the doctors differ to an extraordinary degree. One morning in Bodley I
submitted Wise’s facsimile of the beginning of his MS. to three eminent
palaeographers of this University. The first was too wary to be caught by
my chaff, and refused to give a definite opinion; the second said, ‘Not
much later than 950’; the third said, ‘Well, it isn’t later than the
twelfth century, but it isn’t very much earlier.’ I believe the general
opinion would place it early in the eleventh century, and this fits in
well enough with what I have tried to prove above, that it is copied,
mediately or immediately, from a MS. which cannot be later than 974.
[Sidenote: Conjectural emendation. Alfred’s intercourse with the East.]
§ 27. Something may be done for the text of Asser by cautious conjectural
emendation. There are a certain number of obvious blunders in it due to
the carelessness of scribes, the ignorance of editors, possibly even to
the mistakes of compositors[109]. Most of these are concerned with minor
details. There is one correction however, with which I will trouble you,
as it relates to a point of some historical interest; and, moreover,
converts into a proof of Asser’s accuracy, what might have been used as
an argument against him, though I am not aware that it has actually been
so used. In the somewhat magniloquent passage in which are described
the extensive relations which Alfred cultivated with foreign parts, the
following sentence occurs[110]: ‘nam etiam de Hiersolyma Abel patriarcha
[v. l. patriarchae] epistolas … illi directas uidimus et legimus.’ The
passage as it stands is open to two objections, one historical, the other
grammatical. The historical objection is that no one of the name of Abel
held the patriarchate of Jerusalem during Alfred’s reign; though our
historians go on copying and recopying the name without ever dreaming
of verifying the point. The grammatical objection is that the passive
participle ‘directas’ cries aloud for a preposition of agency. By the
addition of two vowels and the subtraction (if necessary) of another the
passage can be brought into harmony both with history and grammar, thus:
‘ab Elia patriarcha.’ Elias III was patriarch of Jerusalem from 879 to
907[111]. In the earlier of the two versions which occur in Simeon of
Durham the word ‘Abel’ is printed ‘a Bel[112].’ This does justice to the
grammar, but not to the history. In the later version, Simeon himself,
following Florence, omits the passage altogether. One would be glad to
know whether Florence omitted it because he saw the objections to which
it was open.
[Sidenote: Evidence of the Leechbook, and of the Anglo-Saxon Martyrology.]
I was first put on the track of this correction by the curious passage
of the Leechbook printed by Mr. Cockayne in the second volume of his
interesting Anglo-Saxon Leechdoms, where the writer, after giving certain
medical recipes, says at the end: ‘all this my Lord Elias, patriarch of
Jerusalem, bade thus say to King Alfred[113].’ As the MS. from which this
is taken is, according to Mr. Cockayne, of the early part of the tenth
century[114], we are brought very near indeed to Alfred’s time. Moreover
in the Anglo-Saxon Martyrology printed by the same editor in his work
called ‘The Shrine; a collection of occasional papers on dry subjects,’
two Eastern saints, martyred in Persia in 341, SS. Milus and Senneus,
are commemorated at November 15[115]. These are found in no Western
Calendar, and Mr. Cockayne thinks that the knowledge of them must have
come to England through Alfred’s intercourse with Elias of Jerusalem.
The martyrology, which is unfortunately incomplete, was not improbably
drawn up by Alfred’s directions, and cannot be later than his reign, as
it mentions St. Oswald’s body as resting at Bardney[116], whence it was
translated to Gloucester by Æthelflæd, lady of the Mercians, and her
husband Æthelred, not long after Alfred’s death[117].
In one instance, I may remark in passing, the editors have altered
Asser’s text for the worse, what the Germans call ‘Verschlimmbesserung.’
It is the passage where Athelney monastery is said to be unapproachable
‘nisi cauticis, aut etiam per unum pontem[118].’ Here ‘cauticis’ has been
altered to ‘nauticis.’ But ‘cautica’ is a perfectly good word, and means
causeway, _chaussée_[119], a much better sense than any that can be got
out of ‘nauticis[120].’
[Sidenote: Evidence of the work as to the author. He was a native of
South Wales.]
§ 28. But even when all has been done that criticism can do for the
restoration and purification of the text, the work still remains a puzzle
almost insoluble. What can we make out as to the author? It is clear that
he was a Celt from South Wales. This is proved partly by his language and
terminology, partly by his knowledge of South Welsh affairs. As to the
former point, he has the special Celtic use of the terms ‘right-hand’ and
‘left-hand,’ to express the ideas of south and north. The Celt always
faced the east, and named the quarters of the heaven from that point of
view. Thus Chippenham is in the left-hand part of Wiltshire[121]. The
author’s own home was to the left and west of Severn[122]. The Danes
throw up earthworks on the right-hand side of Reading[123]; Sussex is
the region of the right-hand Saxons[124]; and, lastly, all the regions
of the right-hand part of Britannia belonged to Alfred[125]. This does
not, however, exclude the use of the more ordinary words ‘meridianus’ and
‘aquilonaris’ for south and north[126].
[Sidenote: Ambiguous use of the term _Britannia_.]
§ 29. The example last cited brings me to another characteristic of the
author’s terminology; viz. his ambiguous use of the word _Britannia_,
which sometimes means Britain in the ordinary sense[127], but more
often means Wales. Historians have gone wrong through ignoring this
distinction. Thus Dr. Pauli[128], in the passage just quoted, takes
_Britannia_ in what is to us the ordinary sense. But that all the
southern parts of Britain belonged to Alfred is so obvious as not to be
worth saying. That all the southern districts of Wales had submitted
to Alfred is a new and most interesting fact. And this clearly is the
meaning; for the statement is introductory to that sketch of the troubles
in South Wales which explains both why the South Welsh princes commended
themselves to Alfred, and why the author consented to enter his service.
Moreover this use is paralleled again and again in the Book of Llandaff,
a primary South Welsh authority. We find there Asser’s very phrase
‘dextralis pars Britanniae’ several times repeated[129]. We have the
clergy and people, the inhabitants, the churches, the archbishop, the
kings and princes, the kingdom, the islands, ‘Dextralis Britanniae[130].’
To return to Asser:—Æthelwulf reduces ‘Britannia’ under Burgred of
Mercia[131]; Offa’s dyke divides Mercia from ‘Britannia[132],’ and
finally Asser himself agrees to spend half his time ‘in Britannia’ and
half with Alfred ‘in Saxonia[133].’
[Sidenote: Use of the terms _Saxones_ and _Saxonia_. Limitation of the
term _Saxonia_.]
§ 30. This brings me to my next point. For our author, as for all
branches of the Celtic race, the Germanic tribes settled in Britain
bear the common name of Saxons[134]. So much is this the case that
he once writes ‘regnum Orientalium Saxonum, quod Saxonice Eastengle
dicitur[135].’ This is a mere slip, for in other cases he has ‘Orientales
Angli’ quite correctly[136]. But it shows how much more natural the word
‘Saxones’ was to him than the other. So too their language is ‘Saxonica
lingua[137],’ as opposed to Welsh, which is ‘Britannicus sermo[138]’;
a place bears one name, ‘Saxonice,’ ‘in English[139],’ and another,
‘Britannice,’ ‘in Welsh[140]’; and we hear of the ‘Saxon’ poems which
Alfred loved from his boyhood[141], and of the ‘Saxon’ books[142],
in which they and other English writings were contained. So too the
country of these tribes is ‘Saxonia[143].’ But here it is important to
notice the precise limitations under which Asser uses this last term.
It is not coextensive with the whole of Germanic Britain. It includes
Wessex, Sussex, Kent, Surrey, and Essex. Cornwall is excluded as being
Celtic[144]; but Mercia is also excluded[145], and _a fortiori_, though
this is not expressly mentioned, East Anglia and Northumbria[146]. In
other words it includes that part of the island which, at the death of
Egbert, was under the direct rule of Wessex; or, to borrow Bede’s useful
distinction, it connotes the ‘regnum’ as opposed to the ‘imperium[147]’
of the West Saxon house. It is possible that in many cases the term
‘Saxones’ should be understood with a like limitation, for the Mercii,
Northanhymbri, and Orientales Angli are generally mentioned separately.
But I do not think that this limitation can be carried out quite so
rigorously, for instance where Asser speaks of the ‘Schola Saxonum’ at
Rome[148], answering to the ‘Angelcynnes scolu’ of the Chronicle. In one
case he does expressly distinguish ‘Angli et Saxones[149].’
[Sidenote: Alfred ‘king of the Anglo-Saxons.’]
§ 31. And in this connexion it is deplorable to remark that for Asser
Alfred is always ‘king of the Anglo-Saxons[150]’; but then we must
remember that Asser never had the advantage of reading Mr. Freeman’s
history of the Norman Conquest, or of attending the lectures of Professor
Napier. But, jesting apart, it is important to note that by the use of
this title our author intends to mark a real advance in power and dignity
on the part of Alfred as compared with his predecessors, none of whom
bears any higher style than that of king of the West Saxons[151], and the
change of style is justified by the fact that a large number of Mercian
Angles became Alfred’s immediate subjects in 878. On the other hand Asser
does not exaggerate Alfred’s position, as later Chroniclers do, calling
him ‘monarch of the whole of Britain’ and so on[152]. If the heading
of the work is genuine, as I am inclined for this very reason to think
it is, Alfred is addressed as ‘ruler of all the Christians of the isle
of Britain[153].’ In other words the writer recognises exactly the same
limitations to Alfred’s power as does the Saxon Chronicle, where it says
that, after Alfred’s occupation of London, all the English kin submitted
to him, except what was under the thraldom of the Danes[154].
[Sidenote: Other Celtic terms.]
Another term of Celtic origin is probably to be found in the unique
title of ‘secundarius’ given by Asser to Alfred during the reign of
Æthelred[155]; but of this I shall have more to say in another lecture;
while for ‘graphium’ in the sense of ‘donation’ or ‘written grant,’ the
only other authority quoted is from the life of a Welsh saint[156].
[Sidenote: Celtic use of the term _Germania_.]
§ 32. Another trace of Celtic influence is to be found, I believe, in
the innocent-looking passage where it is said that in 884 an army of
pagans from Germany, ‘de Germania,’ invaded the Old _or_ Continental
Saxons[157]. It might be thought that this merely refers to the fact
that part, at any rate, of the invading army had wintered at Duisburg on
the Rhine[158]. But could they be said to be going _from_ Germany when
they invaded Saxony? I cannot speak positively as to all the mediaeval
uses of the word ‘Germania,’ but one would think that it must include
Saxony[159]. But however this may be, the fact remains that Asser nowhere
applies the name ‘Germania’ to any part of the Carolingian empire. The
people of that empire are Franks[160]. Charles the Great[161], Charles
the Bald[162], Charles the Fat[163], Louis the Stammerer[164], Louis,
king of Northern France[165], are all kings of the Franks. Carloman, king
of Aquitaine and Burgundy, is king of the Western Franks[166]. We hear
also of the kingdom or region of the Western Franks[167]. The territory
included in the empire as a whole is called Francia[168]. The eastern
kingdom is Francia Orientalis[169]. The western territory is sometimes
called Gallia[170], and its inhabitants are Gauls[171], or of Gallic
race[172]. Charles the Fat, before he gained the western kingdom, is
king of the Alamanni[173]. I believe that Germania here means Norway,
a meaning which, strange as it may seem, it unquestionably has in the
Welsh Annals. Thus at 1036 the Brut y Tywysogion calls Canute king of
England, Denmark, and Germania, while at 1056 the title king of Germania
is given to Harold Hardrada. In other words, the invaders of Saxony,
according to Asser, came from Norway, and not from Denmark, which he
calls Danubium[174].
[Sidenote: Other Celtic characteristics.]
Another very obvious characteristic of the writer is his fondness for
giving Welsh equivalents for English names of places[175].
May I add without offence that I think another Celtic trait in our author
is a certain largeness of statement? Mons. Henri Martin, a great admirer
of the Celts, notes as characteristic of them a certain ‘rebellion
against facts[176]’; and there are many things in Asser which we can
hardly accept as literally true, though, as I have shown already, and
shall have to show again, some of the criticisms directed against him
rest on misunderstandings of his words.
[Sidenote: Knowledge of South Welsh affairs.]
§ 33. We have next to consider the author’s knowledge of South Welsh
affairs. The principal passage is the one already alluded to where Asser
describes his motives for entering Alfred’s service[177]. He and his
friends hoped thereby to check the mischief inflicted on St. David’s
by Hemeid, king of Dyfed, who had on one occasion expelled Archbishop
Novis, Asser’s relative, and himself. Alfred was in a position to help,
for some time previously all the princes of South Wales had commended
themselves to Alfred; Hemeid himself, and Helised ap Teudyr, king of
Brecheiniog, owing to the pressure of the sons of Rotri Mawr, king of
North Wales; while Howel ap Rhys, king of Glewissig, Brochmail and
Fernmail, sons of Mouric, kings of Gwent, took the same step, owing to
the pressure of Æthelred of Mercia. Even Anaraut, son of Rotri himself,
with his brothers, leaving the friendship of the Northumbrians (by
which I take the Northumbrian Danes to be meant) sought the king’s
friendship; and after being honourably received by him, and made his
godson at confirmation, agreed to stand to him in the same relation of
subordination as Æthelred did in Mercia, and was dismissed with rich
presents—a scene which almost repeats the submission of Guthrum, and
incidentally perhaps supports the view that the defect of which Augustine
complained in Welsh baptismal practice, was the omission of the rite
of confirmation[178]; while the comparison with Æthelred of Mercia
illustrates the semi-royal position of Alfred’s son-in-law[179] at least
as forcibly as it illustrates Anaraut’s dependence.
[Sidenote: Relations of Wales to Wessex.]
§ 34. Many years ago the late Mr. Bradshaw laid stress on the forms of
these Welsh names as showing that Asser could not be a late forgery[180].
This argument becomes of less importance in view of the results we have
already arrived at as to the date, and of the fact that names of the same
type occur in documents later than the latest date which any reasonable
critic could propose for Asser[181]. But the whole passage throws a flood
of light on the state of Wales, and its relations to the house of Wessex.
We see South Wales forced to submit to Wessex by the joint pressure of
North Wales and Mercia; while North Wales, which had remained hostile
at any rate up to 880, when a battle was fought which was regarded
as avenging the slaughter of Rotri Mawr by the Saxons in 877[182],
ultimately found it to its interest to seek the shelter of the West Saxon
overlord. Thus we see actually going on before our eyes the transition
from the state of things under Egbert, when the Celtic population joined
eagerly with the Scandinavian invaders in the hope of undoing the work
of the Saxon Conquest[183], to a state of things in which they combine
with their Saxon rivals against the common foe. It seems to me that such
a passage, introduced so incidentally and naturally, could only have been
written by a contemporary writer. Moreover all the South Welsh princes,
with two exceptions, are mentioned in the Book of Llandaff, several
of them occur in the Annals. Hemeid of Dyfed, Asser’s enemy, died in
892 or 891[184]. Howel ap Rhys is probably the Howel who died at Rome
in 885[185] whither he had gone, it is not unlikely, in expiation of
the crime—a peculiarly foul case of treachery—recited in the Book of
Llandaff[186]. His district, Glewissig, is often mentioned in the same
authority; it is ‘roughly the district between the lower courses of the
Usk and Towy[187].’ Mouric of Gwent and his sons Brochmail and Fernmail
also occur frequently[188]. Mouric is probably the one whose death is
recorded in 873[189]. The only prince as to whom I can find nothing
is Helised ap Teudyr of Brecheiniog. But there is a Teudyr ab Elised,
king of Brecheiniog[190], contemporary with Llunwerth or Llwmbert, the
successor of Novis in the see of St. David’s, who is not impossibly his
father. Of Novis himself I have said enough above (p. 20).
[Sidenote: Events of 878.]
Another place where the author shows his knowledge of South Welsh affairs
is in the interesting addition which he makes to the Chronicle under 878,
to the effect that the heathen force which besieged Cynwit on the north
coast of Devon, had wintered in Dyfed, and massacred many Christians
there[191]. Facts like this explain the change of attitude on the part of
the Welsh. South Wales also suffered severely in 895[192].
[Sidenote: Question as to unity of authorship. Peculiar sense of the word
_aedificia_.]
§ 35. I have so far spoken of ‘our author’ in the singular. But the
question must now be faced: is the work (apart from actual and possible
interpolations) the composition of a single hand? When I first took up
this question I rather hoped that the result to be arrived at would
be, that the annals were the work of one author, the biographical notes
of another, while the florid head-links, of which I spoke before[193],
would be the work of the later editor who combined the two documents.
This would have been a result dear to the heart of the higher critic. But
any such theory, however pretty, will not stand a moment’s examination.
Allowing for the difference of subject-matter, the same characteristics
appear both in the annalistic and biographical sections. Thus of five
instances of the Celtic use of left and right instead of north and
south, two occur in the annals and three in the biography; ‘Britannia,’
in the sense of ‘Wales,’ occurs six times in the biography and once
in the annals[194]. So there are some not quite common words and
expressions, for which the writer has an evident predilection, which
are sprinkled about both parts of the work. The details are too dry for
reproduction here, and may be safely relegated to the obscurity of a
footnote[195]. But one instance is of sufficient general interest to
merit discussion. This is the use of the word ‘aedificia’ in the sense
of articles of goldsmiths’ work. To this I can produce no parallel from
any other writer; but the meaning seems to me practically certain in
three instances, and probable in the fourth; and of these four cases one
occurs in the annals, and the rest in the biography. The first instance
is where Alfred, after Guthrum’s baptism, gives him ‘multa et optima
aedificia[196].’ It is clear that Guthrum did not carry away with him
edifices, in the ordinary sense of the word. Lappenberg would alter
‘aedificia’ into ‘beneficia[197]’; ‘mit vollem Rechte,’ says Pauli[198];
but this will hardly do in other cases, as we shall see.
The next instance is where Asser says that Alfred ‘by his novel
contrivance made “aedificia” more venerable and precious than any of his
predecessors[199].’ Here the ordinary meaning is just possible, though
the epithet ‘pretiosiora’ and the fact that ‘aurifices et artifices’ are
mentioned just before, point decidedly the other way. The third passage
speaks of ‘aedificia of gold and silver incomparably wrought under his
instructions[200].’ Even the most Celtic imagination cannot suppose that
Alfred built edifices, in the ordinary sense, of the precious metals,
especially as his own royal halls and chambers are expressly stated to
have been of stone and wood[201]. The fourth passage tells how Alfred
had workmen who were skilled ‘in omni terreno aedificio[202],’ where
the meaning is probably the same. The use of the word in so strange a
sense in both parts of the work seems to me a strong proof of unity
of authorship. The usage, however, becomes a little less strange if
we remember how much of the goldsmith’s art at that time would go to
the making of shrines and reliquaries, which really were ‘edifices’
in miniature. The two middle passages which speak of Alfred’s ‘novel
contrivance,’ and of his personal instructions to his workmen, are of
singular interest in connexion with the Alfred Jewel; and the fact that
my friend Professor Earle, who has made a special study of that jewel,
agrees with my interpretation of these passages, adds greatly to my
confidence in advancing it. Alfred’s love for this kind of art seems
to have been hereditary. William of Malmesbury gives an account of a
shrine which Æthelwulf had made to contain the bones of St. Aldhelm. ‘The
covering is of crystal, whereon the king’s name may be read in letters of
gold[203].’ This exactly answers to the character of the Alfred Jewel.
[Sidenote: Asser’s style.]
§ 36. Of Asser’s style two prominent characteristics are a fondness for
long parentheses[204], and a tiresome trick of repeating a word or
phrase, sometimes with a slight variation, at intervals, in some cases
longer, in others very short[205]. He certainly would have had no chance
with the editor who objected to the quotation ‘to the pure all things
are pure,’ on the ground that it sinned against the rule of the office
that the same word must not be repeated within six lines. Occasionally
he seems as if he could not get away from a phrase, but clings to it,
as a drowning man clings to a plank; and I think that this feature is
due, not to any love for these particular words and phrases, but to
a poverty of expression like that which causes the repetitions of an
unpractised speaker. These characteristics come out most strongly no
doubt in the biographical sections, but they are not wholly absent from
the others[206].
[Sidenote: Relation of Asser to the Saxon Chronicle. Mistranslation, or
misunderstanding.]
§ 37. The next question which must be considered is the relation of
the Latin Annals of Asser to the corresponding passages of the Saxon
Chronicle. Sir Henry Howorth indeed expresses roundly his conviction that
Asser wrote (if indeed he would not rather say forged) the Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle[207]. This I regard as quite inconceivable. Sir James Ramsay,
without going so far as this, records that ‘several’ passages have
convinced him that the Latin of Asser is more original than the Saxon of
the Chronicle[208]. Unfortunately he does not indicate these passages.
My own conviction is unfalteringly the other way. In the first place
there is at least one passage in Asser which can only be explained as a
mistranslation of the Chronicle. It occurs under 876. Here the Chronicle
has a phrase which puzzled all translators of the Chronicle, mediaeval
and modern, till it was cleared up by Professor Earle. It runs thus: ‘The
mounted force (_i.e._ of the Danes) stole away from the fyrd and got
into Exeter.’ Asser misunderstands this, making it a defeat of a native
body of cavalry by the Danes[209]. At 886[210] there seems also to be a
mistranslation or misunderstanding, but the text is possibly corrupt, and
Florence has not improved it.
[Sidenote: ‘East-Seaxum.’]
Again, such forms as ‘Middel-Seaxum[211],’ ‘East-Seaxum[212],’
‘Suð-Seaxum[213],’ ‘Eald-Seaxum[214],’ which contain the Saxon dative
plural surely imply a Saxon original. It may be noted too that Asser
retains the Saxon name of the river Seine, Signe[215], whereas the
more classical Florence translates it into the Latin form, Sequana.
Phrases again like ‘ipso eodem anno[216]’ for ‘þy ilcan geare,’ and
the constantly recurring ‘loco funeris dominati sunt[217]’ for ‘ahton
wælstowe geweald,’ ‘superius’ for ‘ufor[218]’ point the same way.
[Sidenote: Omission.]
Again, Asser accidentally omits the annal 884, which is a very brief one
in the Chronicle. Consequently, he mechanically puts the events of 885
under 884.
[Sidenote: Chronology.]
Lastly, Steenstrup showed by a comparison of the continental Chronicles
that the movements of the Danes from 879 to 897 in the Saxon Chronicle
(= 878-896) are probably dated a year too late[219]. This is confirmed by
the mention of a solar eclipse under 879 at one o’clock of the day. Now
in 878 there was a solar eclipse on October 29, at 1.30 p.m. There was
a solar eclipse also in 879, on March 26, but this was at 4 p.m. Asser
gives the hour of the eclipse as ‘between nones and vespers but nearer to
nones[220].’ In other words he has altered the hour of the eclipse given
by the Chronicle to suit the wrong numbering of the Annal. The force of
these arguments taken together seems to me overwhelming.
[Sidenote: Asser’s additions to the Chronicle.]
§ 38. But Asser is not content to be a mere translator. He makes
considerable additions to the Chronicle, which vary very much in value.
Some are pure rhetoric, others are mere inferences from the words of the
Chronicle, legitimate enough it may be, but of no higher authority than
similar inferences deduced by ourselves. Many consist of interpretations
of Saxon names[221], or statements of their Welsh equivalents[222]. A
considerable number are geographical glosses explaining the situation
of the places mentioned[223]. These three last classes of additions
occur only in the Annals, and all three seem to point to an interpreter
wishing to make his original clearer to his readers, who are assumed to
be unfamiliar with Saxon names and places. Even the situation of London
is carefully explained. But other additions, like the one discussed above
about the wintering of the Danish fleet in Dyfed[224], are of real value,
and evidently rest on authentic information.
[Sidenote: Abrupt termination.]
§ 39. The abrupt termination of the work after the year 887 has always
been a difficulty. If we could trust the statement that the work was
written in Alfred’s forty-fifth year, i.e. about 894[225], we might account
for this by supposing that the Chronicle, from which the writer borrows
so much, had not at that time got much beyond 887. And the work may have
been laid aside and never taken up again. Unfortunately this date occurs
in one of those suspicious passages about Alfred’s illness, though not in
the one most open to suspicion. Or, again, the work may be mutilated.
[Sidenote: Asser to be used with caution; but there is a genuine nucleus.]
§ 40. On the whole, then, Asser is an authority to be used with criticism
and caution; partly because we have always to be alive to the possibility
of interpolation, partly because the writer’s Celtic imagination is apt
to run away with him. But that there is a nucleus which is the genuine
work of a single writer, a South Walian contemporary of Alfred, I feel
tolerably sure, and I know no reason why that South Walian contemporary
should not be Asser of Menevia. There is a slight confirmation of
this view in the quotation which the writer makes from Gregory’s Cura
Pastoralis[226], for we know from Alfred’s own mouth that Asser was
one of those who helped him in the translation of that work. Another
coincidence with Alfred’s preface to the Cura Pastoralis is to be found
in the phrase ‘aliquando sensum ex sensu ponens,’ which Asser uses in
reference to the translation of Gregory’s Dialogues[227]. Anyhow, as I
have shown[228], the work which bears Asser’s name cannot be later than
974, and the attempt to treat it as a forgery of the eleventh or twelfth
century must be regarded as having broken down. I may add that I started
with a strong prejudice against the authenticity of Asser, so that my
conclusions have at any rate been impartially arrived at.
[Sidenote: A puzzling work.]
§ 41. Still the book remains a puzzle both in form and substance. It
was a curious work to offer to Alfred if it contained the scandals
about Æthelbald and Judith, and what we must regard as the idealised
description of Alfred’s court and administration. I am conscious that
I am very far from having solved the problem. I shall be content if
I am thought to have contributed something towards a solution, which
will perhaps be given before long by Mr. Stevenson. The suggestion
of Mr. Macfadyen that the work was drawn up with a view to Alfred’s
canonisation[229] may be dismissed at once. People are not canonised in
their lifetime.
[Sidenote: Lives of saints.]
§ 42. In one class of historical literature, which often very usefully
supplements more formal histories, the reign of Alfred is singularly
barren, I mean the lives of saints. We have nothing like the lives of
Dunstan, Oswald, and Æthelwold, which give us so much help towards the
end of the next century; or like the lives of Wilfrid and Cuthbert at an
earlier period. The times, indeed, were not favourable to the development
of saintship of the mediaeval pattern. The monasteries, the chief schools
of that type of sanctity, suffered more than any other institutions at
the hands of the Danes; and the virtues which the age required were of a
more active kind than those which went to make up the mediaeval ideal.
The title of saint is indeed given by one authority to Werferth, bishop
of Worcester; but this rests, as we shall see, on a misconception;
though in truth, as Mr. Taylor has remarked, the conduct of Werferth
in accepting the see of Worcester in 872, the very year preceding the
expulsion of Burgred, king of Mercia, Alfred’s brother-in-law, by the
Danes, was as heroic as that of any Christian missionary[230].
[Sidenote: Lives of St. Neot; their mythical character.]
§ 43. The only hagiological literature relating to Alfred’s reign
consists of the lives of St. Neot. And these are late, and not merely
unhistorical, but anti-historical. To them are due some of the prevalent
misconceptions as to Alfred’s reign. For this very reason something must
be said about them.
[Sidenote: Five Lives. The Bodleian Life. The Bollandist Life. The
Metrical Life. The Anglo-Saxon Life.]
The existing Lives of St. Neot are, as far as I know, five in number,
four in Latin, of which three are in prose and one in verse, and one
Anglo-Saxon Life. Besides these there is, as we have seen, a fragment
of another Latin Life, embodied in the Annals of St. Neot, and thence
transferred by Archbishop Parker to the text of Asser[231]. Roger of
Wendover’s account of St. Neot[232] seems also to be based on some Life
different from any of those mentioned above. Of the Latin Lives that
have come down to us the earliest is that contained in MS. Bodley 379,
and printed at the end of Whitaker’s Life of St. Neot[233]. It may
sufficiently characterise this writer’s style to say that he describes
Wessex as the country of ‘the Anglican Saxons who dwell beneath
the Zephyr wind[234].’ The next Latin Life is that printed by the
Bollandists[235] from a MS. formerly belonging to Bec. It bears within
itself clear evidence of being later than the Norman Conquest[236]. This
is a very pedantic writer. He talks much of form and matter, genus and
species[237], ‘the dry notions of Logicians,’ as one translator of Thomas
à Kempis[238] depreciatingly calls them; and is fond of using Greek words
like ‘anatole,’ ‘mesembria,’ ‘dysis[239].’ The Metrical Life, printed
by Whitaker[240] from a MS. belonging to Magdalen College, Oxford, is
clearly based on this, of which also John of Tynemouth’s Life[241] is a
mere abridgement. The Anglo-Saxon Life (or rather Homily) is preserved
in a Cottonian MS. (Vesp. D. xiv), whence it was printed by the Rev. G.
C. Gorham in his History and Antiquities of Eynesbury and St. Neot’s
(1824)[242], and more recently by Cockayne[243] and Wülker[244]. As
to its date widely different views have been held, based on divergent
interpretations of a passage near the end, where the writer contrasts the
evils of his own times with the prosperity of Alfred’s later years. Sir
T. Duffus Hardy thought that this description pointed to the year 986
as the date of composition[245], while Professor Earle would place it
in the eleventh or twelfth century[246]. But the mistake of the writer
in making Neot contemporary with Ælfheah of Canterbury is absolutely
conclusive against the earlier date[247]. Wülker is inclined to attribute
it to Ælfric[248]; but this also is unlikely. It is clearly based on
earlier Lives, for the expressions occur: ‘as books say,’ ‘it is told in
writings,’ &c.[249] But I do not think it is directly derived from any
of the preceding Lives, and, though not ancient, it may be earlier than
any of them. It certainly contains one miracle which is not found in any
of the others, a very quaint story (probably a folk-tale) of a fox which
stole the Saint’s shoe while he was bathing[250].
[Sidenote: Analysis of the Lives.]
§ 44. These lives cover much the same ground. St. Neot is made the son
of Æthelwulf and his wife, granted to their prayers as a reward for
their piety[251]. Æthelwulf is represented not incorrectly as king of
one of the four English kingdoms, viz. of Wessex with Kent[252], the
other three of course being Mercia, East Anglia, and Northumbria. Of the
relations of these kingdoms a very ideal sketch is given. As the Metrical
Life says, in verses which are as open to criticism on prosodical as they
are on historical grounds:—
‘Suffecit cuique sua pars, nec plura petebat,
Alter in alterius nil sibi iure petit.
Pax stabilis, uita concors, discordia nulla;
Inter eos regnat gratia, liuor abest[253].’
Neot becomes a monk at Glastonbury under Dunstan[254] (who was made abbot
of Glastonbury in 946!), and was the special friend of Æthelwold[255]
(bishop of Winchester 963!) or of his successor Ælfheah[256]! After this
Neot becomes an anchorite in Cornwall, whence he goes to Rome to Pope
Marinus[257]. On his return he founds a monastery in Cornwall[258],
and now it is that Alfred first hears of him (though according to the
pedigree he would be his own brother). Alfred visits him, and Neot
rebukes him for his licentiousness and tyranny[259], compelling him, in
the words of the Bollandist Life, ‘to tremble at the sulphureous flames
of Gehenna’; he prophesies Alfred’s expulsion from the throne, and his
ultimate restoration, and then dies[260]. Next comes the invasion of
Guthrum. Alfred gives up everything and flies to Athelney; the cakes are
duly burnt[261], and then St. Neot appears in a vision and finally leads
the English hosts to victory at Ethandun[262].
[Sidenote: Absurdity of the story.]
§ 45. It would not be necessary to quote this precious stuff, even in
outline, were it not that people still continue to treat it as more or
less historical. I have already adverted to the strange inconsistency
of making Alfred first hear of Neot’s fame after the latter’s return
from Rome, although he was his own brother according to the pedigree.
This seems to show that the making Neot a son of Æthelwulf was a later
development, and not part of the original legend. And, indeed, in the
fragment of the Life interpolated in Asser he is no more than Alfred’s
‘cognatus[263],’ which in mediaeval Latin means cousin, or sometimes
brother-in-law, like ‘cognato’ in modern Italian[264]. But if St. Neot
ever existed, his connexion with the royal house of Wessex has probably
as little basis in fact, as the forged Carolingian pedigree which the
later Lives of St. Hubert give to that Saint[265]. Another noteworthy
point is that the only pope contemporary with Alfred known to these Lives
is Marinus[266], though his obscure pontificate only lasted a little over
a year (December, 882, to the beginning of 884[267]), and was some time
posterior to the death of Neot, who is represented as dying before the
campaign of 878[268]. The reason for this prominence is, of course, to
be found in the privileges which this pope was said to have granted, at
Alfred’s request, to the English School at Rome[269], and still more in
the story that he had sent a fragment of the true cross to Alfred[270]. I
need hardly say that the idea of Alfred’s early licentiousness, or of his
tyranny at the beginning of his reign, is absolutely inconsistent with
authentic history. The year 871, when Wessex was at deathgrips with the
foe, was not the time, even if Alfred had been the man, for establishing
a tyranny. It is pitiable that modern writers should lend even half an
ear[271] to these wretched tales, which besmirch the fair fame of our
hero king, in order to exalt a phantom saint.
[Sidenote: Alfred’s withdrawal to Athelney.]
§ 46. But perhaps the worst misconception, and the one which has most
injuriously affected English history, is that connected with the
withdrawal to Athelney. The Lives represent Alfred on the invasion of
Guthrum as becoming not merely a helpless, but a cowardly and criminal
fugitive. This view is put most strongly in the Saxon Life, which runs
as follows[272]: ‘Then came Guthrum the heathen king with his cruel host
first to the eastern part of Saxland (Saxonia).… When King Alfred …
learnt that the host … was … so near England, he straightway for fear
took to flight, and forsook all his warriors and his captains and all
his people, … and crept by hedge and lane, through wood and field, till
he … came to Athelney,’ where the cakes are burnt. Now there is no doubt
that Wessex was thoroughly surprised by the sudden attack of the Danes
at mid-winter, after twelfth-night, 878[273]. And it is possible that
in this the Danes were hardly ‘playing the game.’ Military operations
were generally suspended in the winter. Chippenham was a ‘villa regia’
as Asser notes; and it looks as if the Danes, with Boer ‘slimness,’ had
tried to surprise Alfred in his winter home[274]. Happily they failed in
this, and, as Pauli has finely said[275], Alfred’s cause was not hopeless
as long as Alfred was alive. For the moment the struggle was converted
into a guerilla war. But this is what authentic history has to say about
it: ‘Here the host … stole on Chippenham and surprised Wessex, … and most
of the people they reduced except the King Alfred[276], and he with a
little band made his way with difficulty by wood and swamp; … and then
after Easter he with his little band made a fort at Athelney, and from
that fort kept fighting against the foe[277],’ until he in his turn
surprised the Danes, and forced them to submit. Athelney, in fact, played
no small part in the redemption of England.
[Sidenote: Later Chroniclers; Ethelwerd.]
§ 47. Of later Chroniclers, Ethelwerd, at the end of the next century,
bases his work mainly on the Chronicle. But, like Asser, he has good
additions here and there; and as he was closely connected with the royal
house of Wessex, being descended from Æthelred, Alfred’s brother, and was
also highly placed as an ealdorman in Wessex, he may well have had access
to authentic sources of information. Unfortunately there is no one who
has worked at Ethelwerd, who will not echo Ranke’s sigh: ‘wenn er nur
verständlich wäre[278]!’ ‘If only he were intelligible!’ The designation
which he gives to himself: ‘Patricius consul Fabius Quaestor Ethelwerdus’
is but too true an index of the puerile pomposity of his style. Something
of this unintelligibility is no doubt to be put down to the corruption of
the text[279], of which no MS. is known to exist. But if he fails to make
us understand his Latin, his blunders in translating the Chronicle show
that he had a very imperfect acquaintance with the Saxon language[280].
It is possible that this fact may be due, as Professor York Powell once
suggested to me, to his having been brought up on the Continent.
[Sidenote: Florence of Worcester.]
The careful Florence gives us less help than usual in this reign,
because, as we have seen, he borrows so much from Asser. His splendid and
inspiring panegyric on Alfred[281] is almost his only serious addition,
though a worthy one, to what we learn from Asser and the Chronicle.
[Sidenote: Henry of Huntingdon.]
Henry of Huntingdon makes no use of Asser, and does little more than
reproduce the Chronicle. There is no trace of the use of ancient
ballads[282], such as we find in other parts of his history; no survival
of personal traditions, like the splendid anecdotes of old Siward
a century and a half later, one of which is the ultimate source of
Shakespeare’s glorious lines:—
‘Had he his hurts before?’
‘Ay, on the front.’
‘Why then, God’s soldier be he!
Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
I would not wish them to a fairer death.’
One picturesque phrase Huntingdon has, where, describing the sudden swoop
of the Danes on Chippenham in January, 878, he says that ‘they covered
the land like locusts[283].’
[Sidenote: Simeon of Durham. Legend of St. Cuthbert.]
§ 48. Of the double recension of the annals of this reign in Simeon of
Durham I have spoken above. In the second one, which is Simeon’s own,
there is very little which is not derived from Florence, Asser, and the
Chronicle, except a few notices of northern affairs, taken mainly from
his own history of the Church of Durham. The earlier recension also adds
little to our authorities, except the writer’s own rhetoric, of which
the following specimen from the opening of the battle of Ethandun may
suffice[284]:—‘When the most limpid ray of the sun arose, the king and
all the glory of his people put on their warlike adornments, that is to
say, the threefold breastplate of faith, hope, and love of God. They,
rising from the ground, boldly challenged the caitifs[285] to the fight,
trusting in the clemency of the Creator, secure and fortified as with
a rampart by the presence of their king, whose countenance shone like
that of a resplendent angel,’ with more to the same purpose—or want of
purpose. In these northern accounts St. Cuthbert plays very much the
part which St. Neot plays in southern legend, appearing to Alfred in his
distress, and promising him victory[286], a trait adopted also by William
of Malmesbury[287]. And with this stream of legend Mr. Freeman[288]
ingeniously connects the dedication of the parish church[289] of Wells
to St. Cuthbert, a very unusual dedication for a south-country church.
Moreover, some of these northern accounts prolong the retreat of Alfred
in the marshes of Somerset from three months to three years[290]. We are
fast entering the world of legend.
[Sidenote: William of Malmesbury.]
William of Malmesbury uses both Asser and the Chronicle, though he
declines ‘to unravel separately the inextricable labyrinths of Alfred’s
labours.’ He adds not only the legend of St. Cuthbert, but also the
stories of the golden bracelets, and of Alfred visiting the Danish camp
disguised as a minstrel[291]; wandering folk-tales which get attached
to more than one historical character. There is no reason to believe
that Malmesbury had for Alfred’s reign any historical authority not open
to ourselves, as he unquestionably had for that of Athelstan; unless,
indeed, he had seen Alfred’s Handbook, of which I shall have more to say
later on[292]. He has, however, some very interesting remarks on Alfred’s
literary works[293].
[Sidenote: Knowledge of early English History declines.]
§ 49. After William of Malmesbury men ceased to consult, indeed were
unable to consult, the authentic sources of English history[294], and
there is nothing to check the growth of legend. We get into a world
where cakes are freely burnt, where Alfred is sent to Ireland to be
cured (Irish fashion) of an incurable disease by St. Modwenna[295],
where he invents tithings, hundreds and shires[296], translates into
Saxon the Martian law, originally drawn up by Martia, a wise British
queen[297]. Here, too, Alfred rules as monarch of all Britain[298],
appoints ‘custodes regni[299],’ yet is considerate enough to abstain from
all interference with the Church[300]. Here he founds[301], or better
still, reforms, the University of Oxford, to which he sends his son
Æthelweard[302], and to which, by an improvement on Asser’s scheme, he
devotes a fixed proportion of his revenues[303]. His supreme effort in
his mythical realm is marked by the invention of trial by jury[304], and
the hanging of forty-four judges in one year for unjust judgements[305].
I think it must be admitted that these achievements were highly
creditable to one who, in the same mythical realm, had shown in his early
years such licentiousness and tyranny[306].
[Sidenote: Origin of some of the myths.]
§ 50. In some cases we can trace how the later myth arose; and this
furnishes us with an instructive warning as to the danger of listening to
the unsupported statements of later chroniclers, as many modern writers
are half inclined to do.
[Sidenote: Simeon of Durham.]