CHAPTER III.

POPE GREGORY UNDERTAKES THE CONVERSION OF ANGLO-SAXON BRITAIN—MISSIONS OF AUGUSTINE AND PAULINUS—TEMPORAL EFFECTS OF THE INTRODUCTION OF CHRISTIANITY—ETHELBERT OF KENT AND EDWIN OF NORTHUMBRIA—CONVERSION OF THOSE KINGS—FOUNDATION OF THE SEES OF CANTERBURY AND LONDON.

 

Amongst the heathen, we may discern several shades or gradations of delusion. Some nations, like the Mexicans, have so entirely renounced the Divine assistance, as to be allowed to fall into absolute devil-worship; knowingly and wittingly worshipping the sources of evil, and attempting to propitiate the demons whom they adore, by actions which they must confess to be crimes. Others have erred, not so much by denying the Almighty, as by bestowing his attributes upon his creatures, to whom they have rendered the worship due to the Creator. The sun going forth in his course, the moon walking in brightness, and the starry host of heaven, have all received the honour appertaining only to the power by whom they were framed. Nor has this idolatry been confined to inanimate objects; for the lawgivers, the rulers, and the warriors of the people, have been deified by the ignorance or fraud of their subjects or disciples. This sin against the Divine Majesty may exist in fact, although not acknowledged in form. Whenever any veneration is rendered to human virtue, any respect paid to human wisdom, or any confidence placed in human power, in such a manner as to render us unmindful that our talents are the free gifts of Providence, we err, even as if we offered the hecatomb to Apollo, or burnt the incense before Baal.

The religion of the Anglo-Saxons, in general,—it is not in our power to distinguish between the particular tribes,—was evidently a compound of the worship of the celestial bodies, or Sabaism, as it is termed, and of hero-worship; and the Anglo-Saxon names of the days of the week enable us to give a compendium of their creed.

Sunnandaeg and Monandaeg, or Sunday and Monday, scarcely need a version. It must be remarked, however, that, contrary to the mythology of the Greeks and Romans, the Sun was considered by all the Teutons as a female, and the Moon as a male deity. They had an odd notion that if they addressed that power as a Goddess, their wives would be their masters.

The third day of the week, following the two great festivals of Sun-day and Moon-day, was known amongst many of the German nations by the name of Dings-tag or the Court-day, the popular tribunals being then held. But the Anglo-Saxons called it Tiues-daeg, or Tuesday. Some learned men suppose that Tiue is the Tuisco noticed by Tacitus as a deity, whom the Teutons praised in their hymns, and from whom the Teutonic nations were named. Others identify him with Tyr, one of the twelve companions of Odin, much venerated in the North.

Wodnesdag, or Wednesday, was consecrated to the great Woden, or Odin, The worship of this Hero was common to all the Teutons. He was their King, from whom their science and lore had been derived—the song of the bard and the incantation of the sorcerer had been taught by Odin— and all the Princes and Rulers of the Anglo-Saxons claimed, as I have before observed, to be considered as his progeny. In the Scandinavian Sagas, or romances, Odin appears as the leader by whom the Asi, or Northmen, were conducted to the shores of the Baltic from their original clime, perhaps the neighbourhood of the Black Sea; and the learned historians of Sweden and Denmark, by the ingenious device of supposing that there were three Wodens or Odins at different periods, have contrived to reduce the adventures ascribed to him to a kind of consistent chronology. Woden must, however, be considered merely as a mythological creation; and though it is very probable that there is some authentic foundation for the historical character of the Furious One,—such being the meaning of his name,—yet it is quite impossible to analyse the elements of which it is composed.

Thor, the patron deity of Thorsdaeg, or Thursday, follows in the rank immediately after Odin. Thor, like the Roman Jove, to whom the same day was assigned, was worshipped as the Thunderer; his thunderbolt was a hammer, which he wielded with irresistible force; and many tales and fables are told of his achievements and battles against Giants and Demons.

Frega was the wife of Odin, and gave her name to Freua-daeg, or Friday. She was the Venus of the North.

Lastly came Saeter, from whom Saturday was named. He was represented as standing upon a fish, and he held a bucket in his hand, so that he appears to have been a Water deity.

Besides the before-mentioned Deities, many others received their share of honour. Saxnote, the son of Odin, was venerated by the old Saxons of Germany, and probably by their kinsmen in Britain, almost as highly as Odin himself; and from him the Kings of Essex were descended. On the Continent, the Slavonians, who spread themselves into Europe out of Asia, at a later period than the Teutons, had possessed themselves of the shores of the Baltic, where the old Saxons dwelled. The Russians are Slavonians; but this great nation consisted of many tribes, and the wild people who advanced as far as the Elbe were also called Slavo-Winidi, Vendi ,or Vandals. Their mythology had some affinity to the system which now prevails amongst the Hindoos. Their idols were often many-headed, and covered with symbols. The Slavonians or Vandals adopted some of the Teuton Gods from their Saxon neighbours: the latter equally borrowed from the Slavonians; and Saeter appears to have been one of these foreign deities.

In Britain, especially in Deira, the Angles appear to have united their own idolatry to the ministration of a druidical hierarchy. This flexibility of opinion was not the result of unsteadiness. Ignorantly worshipping, and knowing not how to seek the truth, they felt the insufficiency of their belief, and yearned for a better creed. Rocks, and running streams, and green trees, were considered as objects requiring libations and sacrifices. Not that the Anglo-Saxons believed that stocks and stones, or the water, could listen to them; but they offered their prayers beneath the shadows of the forest, or on the banks of the rushing torrent, as being the places more particularly haunted by the Elves, or subordinate Deities who filled this sublunary globe, though unseen to mortal eye. Yet, notwithstanding these and many other similar delusions, the Teutonic nations retained some faint reminiscences of the truths revealed or shadowed to the Patriarchs. Possibly the week of seven days, as used by them, may be considered as one of these vestiges. They had a very firm conviction that the soul did not perish with the body. Of their conception of the essence of the Divine Being, the Anglo-Saxon language affords a singular testimony, for the name of God signifies Good. He was goodness itself, and the author of all goodness. Yet the idea of denoting the Deity by a term equivalent to abstract and absolute perfection, striking as it may appear, is perhaps less remarkable than the fact, that the word Man, which they used, as we do, to designate a human being, also signified Wickedness; showing how well they were aware that our fallen nature had become identified with sin and corruption. They held the doctrine, that this visible world was to be judged and destroyed, preparatory to a new and happier state of being. Though wild, and ferocious towards their enemies, they were less corrupted than the more polished Greeks and Romans. They were faithful, chaste, and honest—turning towards the light, and seeking amendment. The ground was good; and when the sower cast the seed, it brought forth an abundant harvest.

Whilst the Jutes, the Angles, and the Saxons were establishing their temporal dominion in Britain, the means of imparting to them the saving truths of the Gospel were preparing by the intervention of Gregory, who then held the station of Bishop or Patriarch, or, as his office is now more usually termed, of Pope of Rome.

The possession of the Roman Bishopric gave great rank and pre-eminence to the Prelate by whom this dignity was enjoyed. After the Romans, and the nations constituting the Roman empire, had been converted to Christianity, it appeared expedient, that, when the Bishops of the different cities and provinces were assembled for the purpose of deliberating on the rule and government of the church, certain Prelates amongst them should be appointed to preside and keep order in these councils of the Clergy. And this duty was assigned to the Bishops, sometimes called Patriarchs, whose chairs or Cathedrae were placed in the mother, or principal churches of the most important Dioceses; for this latter term, which is now exclusively applied to ecclesiastical divisions, was used according to the imperial nomenclature—as I have before observed—to denote one of the classes of the temporal governments into which the empire was divided. The first, or Primate, of the Cathedral Bishops, was the Patriarch of Rome, who was complimented with an honorary precedence over other Bishops, because Rome was anciently the capital of the whole empire. Constantinople, or New Rome, had a Patriarch, who also possessed the rank of a President; because that city, when the empire was divided, became the capital of the Empire of the East. Jerusalem was the seat of a Patriarch, out of respect to the Holy City; Antioch and Alexandria, as the chief cities of Asia Minor and of Africa, also possessed Prelates, invested with the Patriarchal dignity; and many other cities enjoyed the same honour.

Bishops derive their order and spiritual functions from the Apostles. But the arrangements relating to the places where they are fixed, and to the endowments of their sees, form, a part of the civil government of the church; and as they are not essentially connected with, her doctrines, they may be altered by competent authority. The Church of Rome perverted many human institutions into articles of faith; and the preeminence assigned to the ‘Chair of St. Peter,’ unconnected as it was with anything except the temporal government of the empire, became the origin and source of the vast dominion which the Popes afterwards assumed over the other churches of the Christian world.

Pope Gregory had become much interested in the welfare of the Anglo-Saxons, in consequence of an incident which happened to him at an ear­ier period of his life. It chanced that about he passed through the market at Rome, where certain dealers had just arrived from foreign parts with various kinds of merchandise. Amongst other articles, there were slaves for sale, like cattle. This wicked traffic had existed from time immemorial; and though Christianity had alleviated the lot of the slave, it had not succeeded in breaking his bonds. Gregory, therefore, could only pity the captives; and he was particularly interested by the appearance of some poor little lads, who stood trembling in the expectation of being consigned to a new master. They were beautiful children, with ruddy cheeks and blue eyes, and their fine yellow tresses flowing in long curls upon their shoulders. Long hair, in those days, was a token of dignified birth. Only kings and nobles were accustomed to allow of its growth: persons of an inferior or servile class were closely shorn. Gregory must, therefore, have felt an additional motive for compassion, since he perceived that these children had sustained some great reverse of fortune—and their sufferings must be comparatively much more poignant than if they had been accustomed to privation and labour. The father of the boys had probably been killed in war; and the children, brought up in ease and comfort, were now exposed to hopeless captivity, passing from the tender care of their parents to the power of a merciless task-master in a strange land.

‘To what nation do these poor boys belong?’ was the question which Gregory asked of the dealer. ‘They are Angles, Father.’ ‘Well may they be so called, for they are as comely as angels; and would that, like angels, they might become Cherubim in Heaven! But from which of the many provinces of Britain do they come’ ‘ From Deira, Father.’ ‘Indeed,’ continued Gregory, speaking in Latin, ‘ De ira Dei liberandi sunt.’—From the wrath of God they are to be delivered. And when, on asking the name of their king, he was told it was Ella, or Alla, he added, that Allerlujah—praise ye the Lord—ought to be sung in his dominions .

This conversation may appear trifling; but it was destined to produce the most important effect. The state of Britain having been introduced to the notice of Gregory, he brooded over the thought, and determined to proceed hither in the character of a missionary. Impediments arose, which prevented him from carrying this design into effect, but the impression continued firm in his mind; and when he became Pope of Rome, he despatched Augustine to fulfil the task, the accomplishment of which he had so earnestly desired.

At this period, Kent was governed by Ethelbert, a monarch of great power and ability, who had compelled the other sovereigns of the island, whether Britons or Anglo-Saxons, to acknowledge him as their superior. He had married a princess named Bertha, the sister of Charibert, king of Paris. This lady was a Christian; and, by permission of her husband, she had caused a deserted church, built by the Romans in the neighbourhood of Canterbury, to be repaired and fitted up for divine service. Ethelbert, therefore, was not altogether unacquainted with the character and functions of Augustine and his forty companions, who, when they had landed in the Isle of Tanet, sent a messenger to him, soliciting an interview. Still he had a strange opinion that they might be magicians; and, by a still stranger idea, he fancied they were less likely to be able to hurt him by their enchantments, if he received them in the open air.

Augustine and his companions proceeded to the appointed place, and advanced towards the king, chanting the Litany, and praying earnestly for the Divine blessing and protection.

‘For ever hallowed be this morning fair,

Blest be the unconscious shore on which ye tread,

And blest the Silver Cross, which ye, instead

Of martial banner, in procession bear;

The Cross preceding Him who floats in air,

The pictured Saviour !—By Augustine led,

They come—and onward travel without dread,

Chanting in barbarous ears a tuneful prayer,

Sung for themselves, and those whom they would free!

Rich conquest waits them:—The tempestuous sea

Of ignorance, that ran so rough and high,

And heeded not the voice of clashing swords,

These good men humble by a few bare words,

And calm with fear of God’s divinity.

Ethelbert did not at first yield much attention to the Missionaries. He excused himself from attending to their exhortations; but he received the Priests with kindness, and allowed them free liberty to preach to the people. Ethelbert himself soon became a listener and a convert; and within a short period, all the inhabitants of Kent were convinced of their folly in worshipping Thor and Woden, the idols of their ancestors.

So earnestly indeed did the men of Kent listen to Augustine, that upwards of ten thousand of them were baptized on one Christmas-day. And we have yet a friendly and confidential letter, addressed by Pope Gregory to Eulogius, his brother Patriarch of Alexandria, containing an account of the joyful success attending the missionaries who had laboured amongst the English, ‘in the most remote parts of the world.’ He speaks nearly in the same tone which we should now adopt, if relating the fruits of a mission in Polynesia.

Ethelbert was extremely anxious to afford to Augustine and his companions the means of performing divine worship with decency and solemnity; and he surrendered to them his own palace, that they might live therein, and erect a church adjoining: at the same time, he bestowed many ample possessions for the maintenance of the priests who were to become its ministers. This church is now the Cathedral of Canterbury. The present structure, though ancient, is of date long subsequent to the age of Augustine. After a great fire, which consumed the cathedral in the eleventh century, it was rebuilt by Lanfranc, and other portions are of yet later periods. Still the Cathedral retains its original consecration; and venerable as the fabric appears to the eye, it acquires a greater title to our respect, when we recollect how long the spot has been hallowed by the worship of the Lord.

Sebert, the king of the East Saxons, was the nephew of Ethelbert, being the son of his sister Ricola, and the Christian missionaries therefore obtained an easy access into his dominions. London was still noted for its opulence; its fame was diffused far and wide; and the city was the resort of merchants from all parts of the world. I say, still, because it had been equally preeminent in the Roman times. And the great confusion consequent upon the Saxon conquest had scarcely injured the prosperity of London, which has continued increasing from the time of the Romans till the present day.

London was quite unlike the great metropolis which we now inhabit. Its extent was confined to what is now termed ‘the city’, then surrounded by a wall, built, as it is supposed, about the age of Constantine, and of which a few fragments are existing. All around was open country. Towards the north-east a deep marsh,—the name is yet preserved in Moorfields,—extended to the foot of the Roman ramparts. On the western side of the city, and at the distance of nearly two miles, the branches of a small river which fell into the Thames formed an island, so overgrown with thickets and brushwood, that the Saxons called it ‘Thorney’ or the ‘Isle of Thorns’. The river surrounding Thorney crept sullenly along the plashy soil; and the spot was so wild and desolate, that it is described as a fearful and terrible place, which no one could approach after nightfall without great danger. In this island there had been an ancient Roman temple, consecrated to Apollo. And Sebert, perhaps on account of the seclusion which Thorney afforded, resolved to build a church on the site, and he dedicated the fabric to St. Peter the Apostle. This Church is now Westminster Abbey; the busy city of Westminster is old Thorney Island, that seat of desolation; and the bones of Sebert yet rest in the structure which he founded. Another great church was built by Sebert, in the city of London, upon the ruins of the heathen temple of Diana. This church is now St. Paul’s Cathedral (A.D. 604); and Mellitus being appointed the first Bishop by Ethelbert and Sebert, the succession has continued to the present day.

During the lifetime of Augustine, the Anglo-Saxons to the North of the Humber continued strangers to Christianity. Their conversion took place under the reign of Edwin, who, after many vicissitudes of fortune, attained the supreme dignity, and became the Bretwalda or Emperor amongst the Kings of the island of Britain.

Edwin had married Ethelburgha, the daughter of Ethelbert; and at the request of Eadbert, her brother—who succeeded to the kingdom of Kent, upon the death of Ethelbert—he had permitted Paulinus, a missionary despatched by Justus, Archbishop of Canterbury, to enter his dominions. Paulinus was received with courtesy, and his conduct continued to command the respect which, at first, had been yielded to his station. Instead of injudiciously urging the object of his mission, he waited until the way should open before him. About this time, Cwichelm, the King of Wessex, unable to withstand the power of Edwin, treacherously attempted to destroy him by assassination (625-626). Eomer, the agent chosen for this nefarious purpose, approached the throne of Edwin in the character of an Ambassador; and when the King stretched forth his hand to welcome the stranger, the latter drew his sword, and attempted to transfix the King.— But Edwin’s faithful Thane, Lilia, whose keen eye had caught the gesture of the murderer, threw himself between his master and the point of the weapon. Yet so fierce and fell was the thrust, that it passed through the body of the Thane; and though Edwin’s life was saved, he received a dangerous wound. Amidst this alarm, Ethelburgha was seized by the pangs of child­birth, and the mother, as well as the infant, appeared in the greatest danger. The prayers of Paulinus were offered for the queen and her babe: they both recovered; and twelve of the royal household, as well as the infant, were baptized by Edwin’s permission and request.

Edwin himself still hesitated: he was about to engage in war with Cwichelm, for the purpose of punishing his treachery. He asked Paulinus for a sign, and declared, that, should he succeed against his enemies, he would adopt the Christian faith.

As soon as Edwin recovered from his wounds, he collected his forces, marched against the men of Wessex, and inflicted a signal punishment upon all who had conspired against him. On his return, he performed his vow in part: he abjured idolatry; no longer did he sacrifice to the false Gods whom he had adored; and he anxiously laboured to put himself in the right way. Much of his time he passed in discussion with Paulinus, and also with his Counsellors and Nobles, but more in communing with his own heart, in solitude, in reflection, and in prayer.

Edwin was one day alone in his chamber, being in that state of imperfect conviction, when the feelings of religion, alloyed by human doubts, impart more distress than comfort to the soul,—Paulinus suddenly entered, placed his hand upon Edwin’s head, and announced a great deliverance from his enemies. The appearance of Paulinus, his attitude, and the intelligence which he thus communicated, corre­sponded with a foreboding or presentiment which Edwin had received, probably by a dream, when in exile at the court of Redwald, King of the East Angles; and Paulinus, availing himself of the impression thus created, earnestly exhorted Edwin to acknowledge that Power by whom he had been protected and rescued from temporal danger. Edwin now began to yield the assent which he had so long delayed; and he declared unto Paulinus, that he would receive the sacrament of baptism, provided the wise Law-givers of his kingdom would sanction his conversion, and also adopt Christianity.

Edwin had even yet only a wavering faith: humanly speaking, however, his conduct was palliated by the circumstances in which he was placed. The Kings of the Anglo-Saxons did not possess a despotic authority. They were forced to act by the advice of their Nobles, many of whom were Sovereigns in their territories, though the Vas­sals of the King; and if the Northumbrian chieftains had continued contumaciously averse to Christianity, Edwin would not only have been unable to protect the Missionaries, but he might himself have been in danger of losing his crown, and perhaps his life. And that the course so adopted was prudent, may be understood by the ready assent given by Paulinus, to the proposition which Edwin had thus made.

Edwin, therefore, convened his Nobles and Counsellors—and craved their advice upon the important question which he propounded: each was to give his opinion separately from the rest, and each was asked by the King to declare his mind concerning Christianity.

The first who spoke was the High Priest of the Heathen Gods, Coifi by name, who acknowledged the utter vanity of those idols which he had served. He had found that these imaginary Deities could not reward the good; we must suppose that he equally acknowledged their want of power to punish the evil doer; and he concluded by declaring, that if any better doctrine could be taught to him, he would adopt it without hesitation or delay.

Then spoke another of the Nobles, who, ad­dressing himself to Edwin, compared the present life of man to the flight of a swallow:—whence it comes we know not, nor whither it proceeds: our human existence is a gleam in the midst of darkness. ‘We know nothing of our origin’ said he, ‘nothing of our end; and if this new doctrine can teach us anything certain of our destiny, well is it worth that we should follow its law’.

Man’s life is like a sparrow, mighty King!

That, stealing in, while by the fire you sit

Housed with rejoicing friends, is seen to flit

Safe from the storm, in comfort tarrying

Here did it enter—there, on hasty wing

Flies out, and passes on from cold to cold;

But whence it came we know not, nor behold

Whither it goes. E’en such that transient thing

The human soul; not utterly unknown

While in the body lodged, her warm abode—

But from what world she came, what woe or weal

On her departure waits, no tongue hath shewn:

This mystery if the stranger can reveal,

His be a welcome cordially bestowed.

All the other Nobles and Counsellors delivered opinions to the same effect: not a dissentient voice was heard; and Coifi, the High Priest, pro­posed that the Heathen places of worship should be destroyed, or burnt with fire. But who is to execute this task?—The High Priest answers, that he himself will set the example Of destroying the pristine objects of idolatry.

From the tone in which the question was put and answered, it is probable that some danger was apprehended from the anger of the people, and Coifi began his work in such a manner, as to show the most complete abandonment of the Heathen law. According to the ritual of Deira, a Priest could not bear a weapon, or ride on a horse. Coifi girt himself with a sword, and grasped a lance in his hand, and mounting one of the royal steeds, he galloped to the temple of ‘Godmundingham.’

This place of worship appears to have been encircled by several concentric enclosures, like the morais of Polynesia, and as soon as Coifi came within reach of the fane, he hurled his spear against its walls. When the people first saw him sally forth, they thought some sudden insanity had seized him. How much more must they have been astonished at this act!—Yet no opposition was offered; within a very short space of time, the fabric was levelled to the ground; and after the lapse of so many centuries, its name, but slightly altered, continues to attest the truth of the history.

Baptism was then performed by immersion, and so general and so fervent was the zeal of the Northumbrians, that Paulinus was employed during thirty-six successive days, from morning to night, in baptizing the eager multitude (A.D. 628).

Before a century had elapsed, Christianity was firmly and sincerely believed throughout Anglo-Saxon Britain; and; in the state of society which then prevailed, the establishment of the true religion became the means of conferring the greatest tem­poral advantages upon the community. A large proportion of the population consisted either of slaves, or of churls or villains, who were compelled to till the ground for the benefit of their masters. These classes immediately gained the comfort of rest, one day in seven; and they whose labour had hitherto been unremitted, without any pause, except when fainting nature sunk under incessant toil, could now expect the Sabbath of the Lord, as a day of holiness and of repose. So strictly did the temporal laws protect the observance of the seventh day, the right and privilege of the poor, that the master who compelled his slave to work on the Sunday, was deprived of the means of abusing his power,—the slave obtained his free­dom.

A tenth part of the produce of the land was set apart for the maintenance of the clergy, and the support of the destitute. Charity, when resulting from the unaided impulses of humanity, has no permanence. Bestowed merely to relieve ourselves from the painful sight of misery, the virtue blesses neither the giver nor the receiver. But, proceed­ing from the love of God, it is steady and uniform in its operation, not wayward, not lukewarm, not affected by starts and fancies, and ministering to more than the bodily wants of those who are in need.

Paupers, such as we now see, then rarely ex­isted. Bad as it was, the system of slavery had given a house and a home to the great mass of the lowest orders. And the laws, which placed the middling classes under the protection, and at the same time under the control of the more powerful, prevented all such as really belonged to society, from experiencing any severe privations in those years when the people were not visited by any particular misfortunes. But mankind were then subjected to many calamities, which have been moderated in our times. If crops failed, and the earth did not bring forth her fruit, vessels arrived not from distant parts, laden with corn. Hunger wasted the land. Sickness and pestilence followed, and thinned the rem­nant who had been left. Families were broken up, and the survivors became helpless outcasts; for the people of each country raised only as much grain as was sufficient for their own use, and could not supply their neighbours. War often produced still greater miseries. In all these distresses, the spirit of Christianity constantly urged those who were influenced by this enduring spring of action, to exert themselves in affording relief;— to clothe the naked and feed the hungry,—to visit the sick—and bury the corpses of the departed.

The higher or ruling orders saw, in the plain letter of the Bible, the means of amending the rude and savage laws which had governed their fore­fathers; and religion also afforded the means of improving the whole fabric of the state. In addi­tion to their piety, the clergy were the depositaries of all the learning of the age. All the know­ledge which distinguishes civilization from savage life was entrusted to them. Admitted into the supreme Councils of the Realm, they became an Order, possessing acknowledged rights which could not be lawfully assailed. And though they may occasionally have attempted to extend their privileges beyond their proper bounds, yet, in a mo­narchy, the existence of any one Rank or Order invested with franchises which the King must not assail, is in itself a strong and direct protection to the privileges of all other ranks of the commu­nity. Powerful as the nobles may have been, it is doubtful whether they could have maintained their ground, had they been deprived of the support which they derived from the Bishops and Abbots, who stood foremost in the ranks, amongst the Peers of the monarchy. Many a blow which would have cleft the helmet, turned off without harm from the mitre; and the crozier kept many an enemy at bay, who would have rushed without apprehension upon the spear.

To the successors of the Anglo-Saxon prelates, we mainly owe the preservation of the forms and spirit of a free government, defended, not by force, but by law; and the altar may be considered as the corner-stone of the ancient constitution of the realm

 

GARIANONUM (BURGH CASTLE, SUFFOLK).

 

CHAPTER IV

If by the royal dignity we are to understand a permanent authority, enabling the Sovereign to give laws to his subjects in time of peace, to command them to follow him in time of war, and to impose taxes or tributes upon the nation at all times, such an authority was wholly unknown to the Jutes, Angles, and Saxons, before they settled in Britain. Their chieftains were called Ealdormen or Aldermen, in plain English, Eldermen, a title originally employed to denote only the very highest of the chieftains,—Cerdic and Cynric, or Hengist and Horsa,—but which was afterwards given by courtesy to almost every person in command. It was common to all the Teutonic na­tions; but those who adopted the Latin language translated the title into Senior, the origin of the Seigneur, Senor, and Signore of the French, Spa­niards, and Italians.

To return to our Anglo-Saxon and Jutish Aldermen—they constituted a kind of ruling Caste or Tribe, all sons of Woden, perhaps anciently invested with sacerdotal functions—the priests, as well as the lawgivers and leaders of the nation. Collectively as a Caste, and individually over their own immediate followers and retainers, they possessed great dominion and influence; but there was no political power of any wide extent, vested in any one individual, excepting during hostilities. A chieftain was then elected, to lead the nation, but his rule expired with the urgency which had given it birth, and all the Aldermen were alike again. Such was the government of the old Saxons; but amongst others of the Teutonic nations, the authority of the chieftains had greatly extended. The Romans not unfrequently bestowed the title of ‘Rex’ upon the leaders who had submitted to them, and who were by no means unwilling to purchase an increased authority over their subjects, by compromising their own political independence. Instances of this practice are found as early as the time of Julius Caesar, and they afford a curious exemplification of the course pursued by the Romans in the days of their strength. When the empire decayed, grants of similar titles were the result of the weakness of the imperial power. Clovis may be our example. He was the conqueror of the Gauls; he had come in by right of the sword; and yet he was happy to receive the consular diploma and the purple robe from Anastasius, the Emperor of the East; and, invested with the imperial insignia, he rode in state, scattering gold and silver as he paced on his steed, whilst he was hailed as Augustus by the surrounding multitude. Here was policy on both sides;—Anastasius, by conferring such dignities upon Clovis, kept himself in the position of a superior; and Clovis, by accepting his dignity from Anastasius, not only obtained a firm hold upon his conquered subjects, the Romanized inhabitants of Gaul, but laid the foundation for a dominion over his own Frankish warriors, of a far different nature from that pos­sessed by his fur-clad ancestors in the forests of Germany.

The Anglo-Saxon Aldermen, who, on the other side of the North Sea, were balanced by the authority of very many others, all as good as themselves, felt themselves in great measure relieved from that check, when they settled in Britain. Their power had ample verge and room to expand. The chieftains accompanying the captains of the expediTions, were principally younger branches belonging to the family, who were contented to accept a share of the conquest with a subordinate authority. Cerdic thus bestowed the Isle of Wight upon his nephews, who held it as a subordinate kingdom, which subsisted until the reign of Alfred under monarchs of its own. All the powers of the British kings were assumed by the Saxon victors. The conqueror entered into the palace, encircled his shaggy locks with the diadem, threw the Dalmatica over his shoulder, and became entitled to the riches and ample domains of the British sovereigns. The very word ‘Cynge’, or King, as exclusively appropriated to the sovereign, seems to have been derived from a Celtic term, Cen, or Cean, signifying Head, or Chief. I am compelled to differ from my friends and contemporaries, who are now employed upon the history of England, and to declare my opinion, that the Teutonic dialects do not offer any satisfactory etymology. This, however, is of little consequence; it is sufficient to know that word, ‘King,’ gradually became restricted to denote a sovereign power; whilst the chieftains, now subordinate, because their compeers had been raised above them, and who held the smaller districts, retained the old title of Aldermen, which continued applied to them until the Danish conquests. There were certainly exceptions either way. At one period we read of five Kings of Wessex being killed in battle, who could only have been minor chieftains; yet these irregu­larities in the state nomenclature were not so numerous as to derogate from the general rule.

But there was a prouder honour than that of King; for the title of Bretwalda, Ruler or Emperor of Britain, placed the possessor as much above the Kings, as each King was above his Aldermen.

That Ella, who first assumed the title of Bretwalda, must have obtained this dignity in consequence of his dominion over the Britons, is easily proved by inspection of the map; for the South Saxons and the Jutes had then alone established themselves; and it would have been preposterous in Ella to have founded so wide a claim merely on his supremacy over this narrow angle of the island. The title was evidently assumed in imitation of the Roman imperial authority, whether as exercised by the legitimate Emperors or the British Tyrants; and the idea of such a supremacy is wholly foreign to any species of government existing amongst the Saxons before they came to Britain. It was exercised with as much show of Roman style and splendour as could be attained. The coin of the Bretwalda, rudely copied from the medal of Carausius, exhibits the wolf and twins, the ensigns of old Rome; and the Roman ensign, borne before him, demonstrated the rank which he had claimed, and which he endeavoured, with more or less success, to extend, not only over the Britons, but over all the other nations of the island.

Ella,—Ceawlin of Wessex,—and Ethelbert of Kent, successively held this dignity. Redwald of East Anglia obtained it; but whether in the lifetime of Ethelbert, or after his decease, is somewhat uncertain. I incline to the latter supposition. From Redwald, the Empire passed to Edwin of Northumbria.—His authority extended over every part of Britain which was inhabited either by the Cymri, or by the English and Saxon natives. The Menavian islands, or Man and Anglesea, were equally subjected to his power; and the name by which we denote the latter, meaning the ‘island of the English’ is thought to have been derived from the colonies transplanted there by Edwin: but the Britons must have returned again, for the English colonies disappeared amidst the races by whom ‘Mona, the mother of the Cymri’, was possessed.

Penda, the Mercian, resisted or rebelled against the authority of Edwin; and allying himself with Cadwallader, the King of the Western Britons, they marched their forces against the King of Northumbria. Edwin was overpowered by their numbers, and slain in the battle of Heathfield; and Nort­umbria became, for a time, the prey of the victors.

Oswald, the nephew of Edwin, who united in his own person the claims of the families both Beira and Bernicia, regained all that his Uncle had lost (634-6735). Britain acknowledged him as Emperor;  and the title was given to him in such a manner as to shew that it was equivalent to that of Bretwalda. He ruled supreme, over all the nations and provinces of the island, divided, according to the expression of Bede, into four nations: the Angles, the Picts, the Cymri, and the Scots. Oswald’s virtues, perhaps, assisted in enabling him to acquire this dominion. Humble and lowly-minded, full of piety and active charity, the qualities which caused him to be canonized after his death, obtained the love and veneration of his subjects when living; and the epithet of ‘Bounteous-hand,’ bestowed upon him by the Britons, is a singular testimony of respect shewn to a ‘Sassenagh ’ Sovereign.

Oswald, like Edwin, fell in battle with the Mercians (642); and the miracles supposed to be worked in the field of ‘Maserfelth,’ were accepted as testimonies of the sanctity ascribed to the Northumbrian King. Oswio, the brother of Oswald, after some interval—for his authority over the Northumbrian kingdoms was disturbed and contested even by his own son—obtained the dignity of Bretwalda, like his predecessor; and the Picts and Scots, as well as the other natives of Britain, acknowledged his supremacy.

ADOPTION OF THE ROMAN POLICY.

I have said that the Bretwaldas are to be considered as the successors of the Roman Emperors, or Tyrants. But the remark must be extended; and we may affirm, that when and so soon as the royal authority became developed amongst any of the barbarians who settled on Roman ground, all their Kings took upon themselves, as far as they could, to govern according to the spirit of the Roman policy, and agreeably to the maxims prevailing in the decline of the empire, and declared in the imperial law. At the same time, this copy of the Roman majesty was very rude and inartificial. The edifice was the handy-work of unskilful artists working by eye, and in coarse materials. The Witan  (Sages), and Raedgifa (Givers of Counsel), of the Anglo-Saxon and other of the barbaric kingdoms, used the codes and codicils and rescripts of the Emperors, even as their church archi­tects attempted to imitate the models afforded by the sacred structures of imperial Rome. Yet, though the column be disproportioned, and the capital rude, and the moulding misshapen, we must acknowledge that the cathedral of Charlemagne would never have assumed its characteristic form, if the architect had not sought a prototype in the Basilica of Constantine.

This assumption of power was not unchecked or uncontrolled. Whilst the Kings of the barbaric nations were striving to clothe themselves with an imperial authority, the people, or, to speak more correctly, the communities or bodies of people which they governed, strove equally to maintain their old Germanic freedom; and the nobles, m particular, were fully able to resist all coercion from the royal power. Some of the rights claimed by the monarch were, perhaps mere pretensions: others were contested; and, at the same time, whatever prerogatives the King possessed as an ancient Germanic chieftain, were still enforced by him, to the utmost of his might.

The infusion of Roman or Romanized doctrines into the administration of the monarch, did not derogate from the full exercise of all the laws and legal customs of the barbarians, which the Teutonic warriors considered as their birthright and best privilege. Taking all these things together, we must consider the practical government of the State as resulting from two opposite principles, often discordant, and sometimes entirely hostile to each other—a Roman law which the King endeavoured to introduce into the administration of the state—and a Germanic law, upon which that Roman law was imposed; and by adverting to these circumstances, many of the problems of history may be solved.—Thus, in the kingdom of the Franks, the ‘Comites ’ and ‘Duces,’ (such being the titles by which the subordinate chieftains were distinguished) appear sometimes as hereditary, and sometimes as deriving their authority from the sovereign. Now, if it be assumed that the sovereign, in continuation of the Roman policy, delegated his power to local governors—but that these local governors were usually the old heads or rulers of the subordinate nations or tribes, this contradiction will disappear. By accepting the royal diploma or commission, the Senior accumulated the royal jurisdiction upon his own, and they became inseparably blended when, in process of time, the distinction between his rights as a Teutonic chieftain, and his duties as the king’s officer were neglected or forgotten. This may be illustrated by a familiar comparison:—supposing the Lord-lieutenancy of Merionethshire had been invariably granted, since the reign of Henry VIII, to the Wynns—from father to son; and that when the male line ceased, the office was equally continued in the female line: that we had no regular record or register relating to such appointments; and that the country was in great turbulence and warfare:—under these cir­cumstances, the Wynns and the people of Merionethshire might very naturally be induced to suppose, that. all the powers of the Lieutenancy were inherent in the descendant of Owen Gwynedd, and that they belonged to him by inheritance, like his estates, independently of the will of the King of England.

OSWIO OF NORTHUMBRIA

No monarch of Northumbria, after Oswio, possessed the title of Bretwalda; and, in the course of his reign, he sustained a great loss of dominion. He slew Penda and subdued Mercia: and, without doubt, declared in his manifestoes, that it was a just war, which he had undertaken for the purpose of reducing the ancient dependency of his Northumbrian crown (655). But the conquest profited not to Oswio. The Mercian Nobles or Ealdormen submitted with  an ill will: they concealed Wulfere, Penda’s son; and in less than a year, Wulfere was King of the Mercians and Middle Angles—for the two nations continued distinct. Wulfere extended his conquests into Wessex; and the title of King of all the ‘Australian Regions,’ shows that he possessed the authority of a Bretwalda in all the island south of the Humber.

Northumbria was on the wane; and Ethelbald the Proud greatly increased the power and fame of the Mercian kingdom. The Mercians continued pressing against the Britons who inhabited Powys and Gwynnedd, and Ethelbald waged an obstinate warfare against them. Over his own race, Ethelbald claimed the rights of a Bretwalda, and at one period all the kings of the English were subject to the supremacy of the King of Britain. Ethelbald was not wise in his power. His authority over the West Saxons was accompanied by so many acts of vexation and oppression, that Cuthred, and his people, resolved to make a desperate effort for the purpose of relieving themselves from a yoke which had become intolerable. At Burford, the two sovereigns met in battle. Ethelbald’s army consisted of his own people, the Mercians, the men of Kent, the East Saxons, and the East Angles. Cuthred’s troops were led on by Ethelhun,—the presumptuous Alderman, as he is called in the Chronicles—bearing the Golden Dragon, the ensign of Wessex. Ethel­hun had recently been at war with his Lord, Cuthred; but Cuthred defeated him, and they were good friends again; and Ethelhun was strenuous in his sovereign’s cause. The conflict was extremely obstinate and bloody, but at length Ethelhun and Ethelbald engaged in single combat. Hitherto, Ethelbald had found no equal in prowess; but now his strength failed him, and he betook himself to shameful flight: not long afterwards he was slain by treachery, and his dominion passed to Beorred the Tyrant, who usurped his throne.

Beorred fully deserved the epithet of Tyrant, taken in its worst sense. He appears to have been one of the many Aldermen, whose dominions were united beneath the Mercian crown. He governed the people according to his will, and not according to law. And when his intrusive government had become so oppressive, that the Mercians could bear it no longer, the whole people, gentle and simple, rose as one man; and, expelling Beorred, they elected or recognized Offa as their king. Offa was a Patrician  of the right royal line of Mercia, being descended from Wibba, the son of Creoda; but he had been compelled to take refuge with the king of Hwiccas, who probably was his kinsman. The historical romances of the Anglo-Saxons celebrated two Monarchs of the name of Offa. The first was the son of Wahrmund or True-mouth, being the name which the Franks spell as ‘Pharamond. Wahrmund and really do appear in the genealogies of the Kings of Mercia. And the tales of the North­men repeat the same fables concerning Varmund Vitri, or the Wise, and Olaf, or Uffa Litilate, or the Meek, which had become consecrated by the lays of the Scandinavian Scallds. Offa the Second is fabled to have been miraculously restored from deformity and debility, to symmetry and vigour; and his marriage with the fair but profligate Druda is accompanied by all the machinery of romance. These fictitious Offas must not be confounded with the true one; and it is difficult to discover any slender vestiges of truth which may exist amongst these fables.

Offa’s right to the crown of Mercia was joy­fully acknowledged. Clergy and laity crowned him as King, and he speedily extended his power, far beyond the boundaries which Mercia had possessed under his predecessors. Against the Britons, Offa the Terrible was particularly successful. These people had been slowly reduced. Occasionally they rallied in great strength; but the English were steady in their plans of conquest, and the kingdom, or principality of‘Ferreggs, now called Herefordshire, but to which the Anglo-Saxons gave the name of Hecana, had been gained by the Mercians before the reign of Wulfhere. Offa continued to advance in the same direction. Fair and fertile Powysland was almost wholly subjugated by him (A.D. 777). Flying from Pengwern, now called Shrewsbury, the princes of this country were compelled to fix their residence in the Halls of Mathraval, whilst the best and most valuable part of their dominions was planted with Saxon colonies. To secure these acquisitions, Offa cast up a vast entrenchment, reaching from the neighbourhood of Chester to the Wye. Clawdh Offa, or Offa’s Dyke, it is called by the Welshmen to the present day (A.D. 792). The Britons, however, did not submit tamely to the invader. Issu­ing from their mountain fastnesses, they continually, though unavailingly, attacked the English Mercians, who, on their part, retaliated by ravaging the British territory. During one of these incursions, a memorable battle took place at Rhuddlan. Caradoc, King of Gwinnedd, or North Wales, was slain, together with the flower of the British youth and nobility. The British bards mourned this de­feat by composing a lament, entitled Morva Rhuddlan: the strain is often played upon the harp in Wales; and we may yet listen to the rich and plaintive melody, which, to us Saxons, commemorates the victory of the Mercian Offa.

Upon the conquests of Offa and his predecessor it is necessary to make one important observation, namely, that the political subjugation of Powys and the adjoining countries did not necessarily lead to the total expulsion of the British tribes. English colonists were partially introduced; but the British peasantry continued to dwell upon the soil, though the domain was transferred to other lords; and so numerous were they, that the country continued British in appearance even until the reign of King John, when, in common language, Hereford was still considered to be in Wales.—In fact, the whole of this border was held and peopled nearly as we see Monmouthshire at the present day. The mass of the people are Cymri, speak their ancient British language, and continue to give the ancient denomination of Gwent to the lands on which they dwell. But the higher orders, the gentry and the clergy and the magistrates, are almost wholly of English race; and the county is an integral part of the realm of England.—Very many of the ter­ritories ruled by the Anglo-Saxons had thus a double aspect; Anglo-Saxon, if you considered them as a state; British, if you viewed the populace by which they were filled: and by recollecting this circumstance, we may reconcile and explain many seeming anomalies and contradictions in our history.

The results of these conflicts seem to have confirmed the authority of Offa over the Britons of Cambria, who became the vassals of his crown. Offa lived to accomplish the subjugation of all the Anglo-Saxon states, south of the Humber. Kent was conquered in open battle. The West Saxons, after losing part of their territories, submitted by compromise. The East Saxons were subdued; and the great and opulent city of London, with the ‘Pagus’ of Middlesex, had been annexed to Mercia, perhaps by the voluntary submission of the inhabitants.

East Anglia was acquired by deliberate treachery. Ethelbyrht, the king of this country, was desirous of marrying one of Offa’s daughters; and he proceeded with much pomp to the court of the Mercian King, who usually resided at Tamworth, for the purpose of obtaining her hand. It was most usual in those days for kings and princes to woo by deputy; and the old Romances, whose fictions often afford the best representations and memorials of the manners and customs of real life, describe the scenes which ensued. If one king sought the daughter of ano­ther, he would send ambassadors—grave men—old soldiers—or learned clerks;—when they arrived, they inspected the young princesses, who stood up all in a row, and made a report of the appearance and character of the damsels to their master. The eldest, they might say, was distinguished by her beauty, the second by her wit, but the youngest by her modesty and discretion. Ethelbyrht thought it best to judge with his own eyes, though caution ought to have suggested, that some harm might ensue to him. The once-powerful kingdom of East Anglia had rapidly declined: its history is nearly a blank in our annals. Even the names of the greater number of its monarchs are lost; and we can only surmise, that from the death of Redwald, it had usually submitted to the reigning Bretwalda. Offa asserted his supremacy, and many dissensions had arisen between him and Ethelbyrht. But the latter relied upon the honour of a king; and he proceeded without doubt or hesitation to the palace of his intended father-in-law.

Cwendritha, the queen of Offa, was cruel and crafty. ‘You have your old enemy in your power,’—quoth she to Offa;—‘him whose kingdom you have so long coveted.’—The Mercian, easily yielding to advice which agreed with his wishes, caused the young and valiant Ethelbyrht to be beheaded, and then despatching a powerful army against the East Angles, he took possession of the country. Neither the ‘Giant’s dyke,’ nor the rivers and waters of their frontier could enable them to withstand their enemy.

An Anglo-Saxon King was not always certain that his son would succeed him in his dominions. The royal authority was vested in the royal families; but no individual of such family had any determinate or absolute right. The new King was generally designated by the assent of the nation; and if the son of the late King was not able to ex­ercise the functions of royalty, the brother of the deceased monarch, or even some more remote relation, was called to the throne. Such a mode of succession was not unwisely adapted to the exigences of the age. An Anglo-Saxon King, in the earlier times, was the chief-justice or magistrate of his people in time of peace. He was also their commander-in-chief, both by land and sea, in time of war; and ill would the affairs of the nation have been sped, had they been entrusted to an infant mind or an infant hand. In cases, however, where the heir was approaching to mature age, the deviation from lineal succession, though often practised, was less expedient; nor could it be pleasing to a father to anticipate the exclusion of his son, from the dignity which he himself had possessed.

Offa, therefore, adopted a scheme, not hitherto employed in England, though many examples had been found in foreign nations. He summoned a great council; and, with the assent and concurrence of the prelates and nobles of Mercia, Ecgfrith, his son, was associated to him in the royal dignity. So long as Offa lived, Ecgfrith was styled King of Mercia; he sat by the side of his father, and he succeeded to the throne without opposition after Offa’s demise.

Whilst Charlemagne claimed for himself the title of the most powerful of the kings of Eastern Christendom, he addressed Offa in the same manner, as the most powerful of the kings of the West. He uses the titles interchangeably, and as if he wished to imply that Offa was to be considered as his compeer in authority; and in this and many other notices preserved concerning Offa, we can ascertain that he attained great celebrity and fame. His regal palace at Tamworth Town has been long since levelled to the ground, and the entrenchments, faintly raised above the grass, just enable us to trace the site of the royal residence. But the medals coined by Offa, and which in beauty and work­manship excel those of any other Saxon monarch, afford a proof of the cultivation of those arts whose progress is favoured by opulence and tranquillity. The prosperity of Mercia was, however, of very short duration. The welfare of the country was not founded upon right government and justice. It was a tower built upon the sand; and after the death of Offa (A.D. 795), upon whose personal character the vigour of the government, during his long reign of forty years, had principally depended, the splendour of Mercia declined, and the fortunes of its rival, Wessex, prevailed.

Where lineal succession, that is to say, the rule that the son of a king takes the dignity which had been held by his father, is fully established, it has the good effect of preventing most of those disputes which give rise to civil wars. It is very easy to tell who is the eldest son of the late King: no doubt can arise about that fact; but it is not so easy to determine who is the bravest or the wisest candidate or competitor, because the electors, in such a case, will ascribe all the requisite qualifications to that prince from whom they expect the greatest favours. Hence, all persons are now agreed that, if you have a King, it is best that the dignity should be inheritable according to primogeniture; that the eldest son should take the crown in preference to the youngest brothers, and also in preference to his uncles. For, by this means, all the disputes are avoided, and if the heir be deficient in wisdom, he may perhaps be provided with good ministers, by whose advice he can be guided.

As I have before observed, this rule of lineal succession did not anciently prevail amongst the Anglo-Saxons; and therefore cases of contested successions occasionally arose between the members of royal family. Properly speaking, the Witenagemot, the assembly of Sages, or Great Council, had the right of election or nomination; but if a dispute arose, the knot was usually cut by the sword. When Beortric, King of the West Saxons, was raised to the throne, his succession was opposed by Egbert, the son of Alchmund, who claimed a better title to the dignity. But Egbert had few partisans; and in order to save his life, he took refuge in the dominions of Offa. Such a Pretender, stationed in the adjoining kingdom, might well alarm Beortric; and he despatched ambassadors to Offa, with two earnest requests,—that he, Offa, would be pleased to bestow upon Beortric the hand of his daughter Eadburgha, in marriage;—and that Offa would also kindly surrender up the rebel Egbert to the just vengeance of his rightful sovereign.—Offa assented without any hesitation to the first request; he well knew that he would gain, by ridding himself of his daughter. The second request was denied; yet Offa’s protection was withdrawn from the Pretender. Egbert was compelled to fly from Britain, and he took up his residence in France, where he continued during the whole of Beortric’s reign. These years of exile, however, were not years of misfortune. France, governed by Charlemagne, then excelled all the other states of Western Christendom in good order and civilization. And our ancient historians have remarked, that it was well, that Egbert should have been thus disciplined by adversity before he exercised the wide dominion which he afterwards attained.

QUEEN EADBURGHA

Eadburgha, the Queen of Beortric, had inherited all the cruelty and ambition of her father, Offa. (799-800). Constantly did she labour to excite  jealousy between the king and his subjects. She became hateful to all, and she returned that hatred; and when she could not wreak her vengeance in any other manner, she had recourse to poison. Having prepared a mortal potion, which she intended for the bane of one of the noblemen who attended the court, it chanced that Beortric drank of the cup, and died. The crime could not be concealed: Eadburgha was degraded from her station, and banished; and the men of Wessex, not contented with the punishment inflicted upon the criminal, determined to abolish the rank which she had possessed; they decreed, that thenceforward the consort of the king should neither be called Queen, nor sit on the throne, nor be in any wise associated to the royal dignity. Eadburgha fled to France, disgraced, but wealthy, for she had carried off great store of gold. In that country she sank into the most abandoned profligacy: miserable poverty followed. From France she wandered to Italy. During the last years of her life, she was a common beggar in the streets of Pavia. Thus ended the line of Offa.

Beortric having perished by the wickedness of his Queen, as I have before described, the vacant throne was filled by Egbert, who returned from France, and succeeded without any domestic position; and having concluded a peace with the Mercians who had taken up arms against him, he had full leisure to establish himself in his kingdom. The first nine years of his reign are nearly a void in all the authentic chronicles; but in those narratives which are less trustworthy, the vacant space is partly filled up by the account of a parliament held at Winchester, in which Egbert decreed, that South Britain should take the name of ‘England.’ It is tolerably clear, that, in consequence of the greater preponderance of Angles, the nations whom we usually term Anglo-Saxons, were often called English; but our country was not denominated England till a much later period, and the parliament of Egbert is a pure fable.

According to the usual course of policy amongst the Anglo-Saxons, Egbert pursued the Britons with fierce hostility; yet I believe that it was not for the purpose of expelling them from the country, but rather to reduce them into a state of tributary subjection. (800-814). The Britons of the West opposed a strenuous, but unavail­ing resistance. Great was the slaughter on both sides; but Egbert prevailed; he was equally successful against those who dwelt on the northern shore of the estuary of the Severn; and lastly, all, or the greater part of, modern Wales submitted to his authority. We must now direct our attention to Kent, of which Alchmund, the father of Egbert, had been King; and, as it should seem, after the line of the Aescingas had failed. If you ask me how, and when, and in what manner, Alchmund was placed upon the throne ; I cannot answer these questions, otherwise than by telling you that the Anglo-Saxon Sovereigns in general, but more particularly those of Wessex, were accustomed to provide for their sons by settling them in what the French term ‘apanages’; that is to say, by granting them some smaller kingdom or state, which they held in due subjection to the elder royal branch; just as, in private life, a nobleman, when his son comes of age, surrenders to him a decent property on which he can marry and settle, and bring up his children, until he succeeds to the principal estates of the family.

Alchmund, then, was one of those Kinglets—or Roitelets as the French term them; and, as I suppose, (but recollect, that this is only my hypothesis,) he had been appointed king in Kent by the power of Wessex. But before and during his time, there were many other kings of Kent, some of whose dominions were, perhaps, not more extensive than the ‘Lathes’ into which the country is divided. This petty state was in great confusion; and after the reign of Alchmund, one Eadbert, surnamed Pren or Prynne, obtained the kingdom. The ancestry of Eadbert is not known; some people think that he was a priest or monk, who, having quitted his church or monastery, exchanged the clerical tonsure for a crown. The Mercians, as you have heard, had already been the conquerors of Kent; and Cynewulf, the King of the Mercians, who had succeeded to Ecgfrith, the son of Offa, resolved to gain possession of the country, which he attacked with a powerful army. Eadbert Pren could not make any defence: the ‘Men of the Marsh’ or Merscwara, supposed to be the inhabitants of the neighbourhood of Romney, betrayed him into the power of his enemies. Eadbert is accused of great tyranny; but he was treated with a degree of cruelty which no tyranny could justify. The Merscwara put out his eyes, and struck off his hands; and, thus blinded and maimed, the agonized captive was loaded with chains and fetters, and conducted into Mercia.

Cynewulf had erected a church or monastery at Winchecombe, and on the day when the fabric was consecrated, his heart inclined to mercy. Cynewulf manumitted the captive Eadbert before the altar, in the presence of the applauding multitude; but there his clemency terminated. He took the crown of Kent and placed it on his own head; and then he grasped the sceptre in his hand, and proclaimed himself to be King of the country, which was now subjected to the dominion of Mercia. Kent continued thus subjugated during several years, though the Mercians frequently appointed ‘Under Kings’ or dependent Sovereigns, who governed the land as vassals of the Mercian crown; the first sovereign of this description after the Mercian conquest, being Cuthred, the brother of Cynewulf, who received the country as an apanage.

Under the earlier Bretwaldas, the greater Anglo-Saxon powers had been pretty nearly balanced; but Northumbria, as I shall shortly have occasion to explain to you, was now in the last stage of weakness and disunion; and the kings of this country were entirely out of the field. A fierce rivalry prevailed between Wessex and Mercia; they divided all Britain south of the Humber. I say ‘all Britain’ because all the British princes were subjected to one or other of them. It was clear that either would brook no rival; and, under Egbert, the fate of Mercia was speedily decided. Having defeated Beornwulf, king of Mercia, in a great battle at Ellandune, now called Wilton, he marched a very large body of troops into Kent, under the directions of his son, Ethelwulf, or Noble Wolf, and other experienced warriors, the Alderman Wulfhard, and Alstane, bishop of Sherborn, who thus joined in commanding an army; a strange, but not unusual employment for a churchman in those turbulent times. As soon as the army of Wessex had occupied Kent, Baldred, the Mercian ‘Subregulus’ or ‘Under king’ fled beyond the Thames, and the inhabitants of the country unanimously declared in favour of Egbert. Surrey, Sussex, and Essex followed the example of Kent. They all considered that Egbert was their rightful king by descent and blood, and that they had been wrongfully separated from the dominion of his ancestors; and I present this fact to you prominently, because it is one of those which show hew zealously the old English or Anglo-Saxons were attached to the families of their sovereigns. Egbert, upon acquiring possession of Kent and the adjoining countries, acted according to the policy which I have before noticed. He granted these dominions to his son Ethelwulf as an apanage; the latter held them until his accession to his father’s throne; and, thereupon, the apanage passed to Ethelwulf’s son, Athelstane. The mode of descent, therefore, if the Danish invasions, of which I shall shortly speak, had not unsettled the kingdom, would have been nearly like that of the principality of Wales, which is held by the heir-apparent for the time being of the English crown.

These prosperous events were followed by another acquisition of power. The East Anglians, who after the murder of Ethelbyrht had become the sub­jects of Mercia, threw off this hateful supremacy; but Beornwulf, who had usurped the throne of Mercia, (821), asserted his intention of regaining the authority, however unjust, which his predecessors had acquired. Thus harassed, the king of the East Angles and his people placed themselves under the protection of Egbert, requesting his aid and protection against the Mercian power; in other words, they became his vassals; and it is worthy of notice, that the chronicle expresses their submission in the terms employed in the official acts, by which the subjects of the Carolingian empire recognised the authority of their sovereign. Egbert most willingly accepted their homage, and promised to afford them that protection which their submission had earned, for in all such cases the obligation was reciprocal.

Beornwulf was a stout warrior. His name means ‘Bear-wolf,’ and, I almost suspect that, as amongst the North American Indians, the appellations of the Anglo-Saxon chieftains were sometimes given to them in mature age, from the qualities which they possessed, or of which they Wished to be thought the possessors. Beornwulf showed great pugnacity; and, collecting a powerful army, he invaded East Anglia, (825), denouncing vengeance against King and people; but they encountered him with equal obstinacy, and Beornwulf fell in the conflict. Ludica, who can be traced as an Alderman in Mercia, was raised to the throne; but he also was slain by the East Anglians. Upon the death of Ludica, the choice of the Mercian chieftains fell upon Wiglaf, Alderman of the Hwiccians, a collateral kinsman of Offa; but before he could collect his forces, Egbert advanced into Mercia, and expelled him from the kingdom. Wiglaf was now a fugitive: he wandered from place to place, and concealed himself in the wastes of Croyland, where he sought to escape the vengeance of the victor. But about two or three years afterwards, Egbert, moved by pity, restored the kingdom to him, to be held in tributary subjection.

By the conquest of Mercia, Egbert had become Lord of all the States south of the Humber; and he now marched his forces against the Angles of Deira and Bernicia. Unable to resist the invader, the Northumbrians, and their king Eanred, proffered their homage to Egbert, and became his tributaries. (828-830). About the same time, Swithred, King of the East Saxons, was expelled by the conqueror. The Britons north of Severn, in other words, occupying the territory of the modern Welch, were utterly subdued; and Egbert became fully established in the state and honour of the eighth Bretwalda, or supreme Emperor of the Island of Britain.

CHAPTER V.

THE DANISH INVASIONS

 

The victories of Egbert were facilitated by causes which ultimately brought disgrace and ruin upon the Anglo-Saxon name. Although the Anglo-Saxons were quite sensible, in theory, of the advantages resulting from good order and regular policy, the first element of government was wanting. Peace could never have been ensured in a country where the different subordinate chieftains retained the full right of declaring war against one another; and, on the very day of Egbert’s accession, a bloody battle was fought between the men of Wilts and the men of Hwiccas, under the command of their respective chieftains. Ethelmund, whom the Chronicles call the Alderman, was the ruler of the latter people; he also assumed the title of ‘Subregulus,’ whilst in the metrical account of the Abbey of Wilton, he figures as ‘King of the March,’ though he was only a vassal of the Mercian crown.

Our Milton, who, great as he was as a poet, had no peculiar talent for historical enquiries, expresses his opinion that such conflicts are as unworthy of notice ‘as the fights between the Kites and the Crows.’ Burke, the celebrated orator, who, like Milton, failed as an historian, has repeated the same comparison; and it has been borrowed by many other writers of great eminence. With submission, however, they are in the wrong. A simile which may eke out a verse, or embellish and relieve a speech, may, nevertheless, be a very invalid argument; these distinguished writers were entirely deluded by the picture presented to their fancy. And the popularity which the comparison has attained—for it is in every body’s mouth—has tended, in no small degree, to encourage an erroneous mode of investigating the truths of history.

Whether the Kites or the Crows gain the battle, may certainly be of little consequence to us, as an abstract question; but if we are employed in investigating the natural history of these birds, then it becomes very important to know how, and when, and for what reasons, they carry on their hostilities. Their pugnacity is a fact which elucidates their habits, and which must not be neglected by the enquirer. For, assuming that kites and crows do wage war amongst each other, according to Milton’s supposition, the inference to be drawn is, that the nature of the genera to which kites and crows belong, differs most essentially from the genus of rooks, who are quietly directed in their course, without ever engaging against an enemy.

He who wishes to understand history, must learn to estimate the importance of facts and details, especially those relating to remote or obscure periods, not by their apparent value, but in proportion to the insight which they afford into the general character of society. The skirmish to which I have alluded, was probably an ordinary occurrence, exciting no attention at the time; but such petty warfare could not have taken place, if the Anglo-Sakon monarchs had possessed that degree of supremacy over their people, which we now consider as an essential attribute of royal power. This loose and imperfect government accustomed the people to strife and dissension; and the Anglo-Saxon states were miserably divided by internal feuds.

The misfortunes sustained by the men of Kent had been greatly occasioned by their quarrels, during which the line of the Aiscingas had become extinct. But the chief scene of strife was laid in Northumbria. As one faction or another prevailed, the Kings, who were, in truth, only the puppets of these factions, were expelled or restored:—hailed as monarchs,—or slain as traitors and usurpers; and the greater part were of dubious lineage. Amongst a rude people, who, whether justly or not, considered the royal authority as appertaining to a peculiar Caste, this defect of an­cestry alone was enough to prevent any efficient authority, by depriving the kings of that founda­tion of opinion, upon which all peaceable dominion, is grounded.

Against such misrule and anarchy it was not difficult for Egbert to prevail; but his authority was gained at the expense of the Anglo-Saxon people; and much as his imperial dominion may have contributed to his personal aggrandizement, it added nothing to their strength and security. It has been, said that Egbert consolidated the Anglo-Saxon power; but this assertion is most incorrect. Each state and people continued as distinct as before: there was no common legislature, and no means of concentrating in the supreme government the strength and resources of the community. Rivalry is always as injurious to those who indulge in this misleading passion, as it is wrong in its origin. All the Anglo-Saxon states professed one faith, spoke one language, and the depression of any one kingdom ought, in truth, to have been considered as the misfortune of the whole community.

The Romans and Anglo-Saxons had successively prevailed over the Britons, principally by reason of their dissensions, which had prevented them from withstanding their common enemies. Alcuin, the friend of Charlemagne, in the epistles which he addressed to his English countrymen, exhorted them to bear in mind the example afforded them by the ancient annals of the island. From his cloister, he bade them turn to the pages of Gildas, and employ the history of the past in its best use, as a lesson for the present time. But no warning could prevail; and the conquerors, in their turn, were now about to become the victims of the same short-sighted passion and folly: they continued turning their spears against each other, unmindful of the foemen who were preparing to reduce them to the utmost misery.

The Scandinavian nations and their kindred tribes, who about this period were usually called Danes or Northmen, were never at peace. Like the piratical states of Barbary, they depended wholly upon war and plunder; but after the settle­ment of Northumbria by the Angles, all communication between Britain and ‘old England’ seems to have ceased. During this period, it is probable that the Scandinavians and Jutes were much engaged in warfare with the Finns and other inhabitants of the North. Such civilization as they had once possessed was greatly impaired, and a more stem and savage character was imparted to their idolatry.

In the same year when Offa acquired the supremacy of Wessex, three strange vessels made the shore of Dorsetshire, and landed their crews near one of the ‘King’s towns’. Badohard, the Reeve, or Mayor of the town, quite unsuspicious of any danger, rode to meet the strangers, probably thinking that they were traders, and with the intent of claiming the customs due upon their merchandize. If such was his object, he received payment from the Danish battle-axe: his attendants shared the same fate, and fell before the invaders.

From this era, the Danes became the incessant and inveterate foes of Britain and its inhabitants, visiting every part of the island with fire and sword. They are always before us;—we always see the horizon reddened with flame,—we always hear the tramp of war.—It is certain that they must have recollected their kindred with the Anglo-Saxons; but this circumstance rather heightened than mitigated their ferocity. They considered the English, for this familiar name now began to be in use, as apostates and recreants from the warlike virtues of their ancestors. They viewed them as cowards —who, contemning the banquet of Valhalla, had yielded up its joys, for the song of the Priest and the mummery of the Quire.

Another cause of hostility is obscurely indicated: some of the Danish chieftains imagined that they possessed a right to the government of the Anglian states of Britain. The Danish kings were sons of Woden, like our Anglo-Saxon monarchs. Wahrmund and Offa, who appear in the genealogies of Mercia, as before mentioned, were the ancestors of the Norwegian ‘Sea Kings’. And the allusions in the Sagas to the conquests effected by the Danish heroes in Britain, at very early periods, can only be explained by supposing that they relate to the chieftains by whom our island was colonised. This opinion is corroborated by the very strong traditional belief which has pre­vailed concerning the pertinacity of the Danes in keeping up the remembrance of their rights. In the thirteenth century, the French imagined that part of the dowry of the unfortunate Princess Ingeburgha (who was married to Philip Augustus, and was most shamefully treated by him) consisted of the pretensions which Denmark possessed to the dominion of England. The peasantry of Ireland firmly believe, that when a Danish noble­man bestows his daughter in marriage, he always makes an ample Irish settlement upon her; giving her, in part of her fortune, or sometimes as the whole of it, a fine estate in the county Clare, or county Wexford, to which his family have been legally entitled ever since they were dispossessed, in the tenth century. And, but a very few years ago, a party of surveyors employed in measuring Lord Reay’s country, in the shire of Sutherland, were mistaken by the Highlanders for a detachment of the Host of Lochlin, about to reclaim their old inheritance. These traditional opinions are not to be engrafted into history as facts; but yet they are usually the recollections of facts, and not without their value in elucidating the transactions of remote periods, and in connecting and explaining the fragments of information which we possess.

During the last years of Egbert’s reign, the Northmen or Danes had been continually gaining strength. Their attacks were principally directed towards the western districts, thickly peopled with discontented Britons. Gladly did the Britons or Wilisc-men of Devon join the invader, by whose aid they hoped to be delivered from the empire of the sons of Cerdic, and released from the thraldom of their Saxon Lords. Egbert defeated the allies, both Welsh and Northmen; and soon afterwards he died; (836); and the throne devolved upon Ethelwulf, his son, King of Kent; who, upon becoming King of Wessex, resigned this apanage to his son, Athelstane.

During a period of about fifteen years, Ethelwulf was just able to keep the Danes in check, but without gaining any permanent advantage. The Heathens became bolder and bolder: they sailed repeatedly up the Thames. London was stormed and pillaged: Rochester and Canterbury shared the same fate; and the southern districts were attacked and ravaged. The Mercians were assailed with equal hostility; and the need of co-operation against the common persecutors became so manifest, that they and the West Saxons agreed to unite for the purpose of repelling the enemy. A great congress was held at Kingsbury, in Oxfordshire, composed of the prelates and nobles of the two nations; and as Ethelwulf could not attend in person, he despatched his ambassador in his stead. Oslac, the nobleman thus honoured, was Ethelwulf’s father-in-law, and a man of great fame; and in this assembly the Witan deliberated on the best mode of re­sisting the enemy. Soon afterwards, we find that Burhed, King of Mercia, marched against the Danes, perhaps in conformity to the resolutions of the council of Kingsbury, but with ill success; for he was defeated by the enemy. Ethelwulf was more fortunate. The King of Wessex, and his son Ethelbald, gave battle to the Northmen and entirely routed them. Vast numbers of the Heathen-folk were slain; and other advantages were gained at Sandwich. Athelstane, King of Kent, and Elchere, the Alderman, defeated the Danes and took many of their vessels, and the state of affairs seemed to promise a temporary security.

Ethelwulf, about this time, had four surviving sons, his children by his wife Osburgha, the daughter of the noble Oslac. Ethelbald, now the eldest, and who had assisted his father in defeating the Danes,—Ethelbert—Ethered—and Alfred. The latter was the best-beloved child of Ethelwulf; and for the purpose of securing the succession to him, he was sent to Rome, where Pope Leo anointed him with holy oil, and consecrated him as a King. (853-855). Ethelwulf also proceeded to Rome; and whilst he was on the continent he espoused Judith, the daughter of Charles the Bald, King of the Franks. The royal diadem was placed upon her head by Hincmar, Bishop of Rheims; and she was inaugurated and crowned as Queen, with great solemnity.

Ethelwulf’s journey was ill-timed. It is said, that he was dull and stupid, and wanting in ability to govern and defend his people; and that, if he ever showed wisdom, it was when acting under the advice of Alstane, Bishop of Sherborne, who had assisted him in making the conquest of Kent, and of Swithin, Bishop of Winchester, a great statesman in those days, but who is now only recollected as the patron of rainy weather. During Ethelwulf’s absence, the discontent which prevailed against him assumed the shape of an organized revolt. The conspirators, headed by Ethelbald, the eldest son of Ethelwulf, who was already king of some apanage or dependant state, assembled in the forest of Selwood, and resolved to prevent Ethelwulf from ever returning to the government of Wessex. Bishop Alstane, Ealhere, Duke of Somerset, and other powerful noblemen, had joined in the plot. Many, however, of the nobles of Wessex sided with the old king; and a most unnatural civil war between the father and son appeared to be impending.

Ethelwulf had alarmed the jealousy of Ethelbald by the coronation of Alfred, who was thus obviously designated as his father’s successor. Equally, or perhaps more offensive to the West Saxons, was the recognition of Judith as Queen. You will recollect, that, in consequence of the crimes of the wicked Eadburgha, the dignity of Queen had been altogether abolished; and the coronation of Judith, with great pomp and solemnity, was regarded as a violation of the constitution. It must also be observed, that Ethelwulf, in order to make way for Judith, had put away Osburgha, the mother of his children. This fact is not mentioned in express terms in our ancient historians; but Osburgha is noticed in a manner which cannot be explained by any other hypothesis; and such conduct must have greatly added to the discontent which prevailed.

Upon the arrival of Ethelwulf in England, his party gained much strength, and he might, perhaps, have expelled Ethelbald. But the general characteristic of the Anglo-Saxon Kings was mildness towards their own people. Ethelwulf shrank from the responsibility of occasioning internal dissensions. He was gentle towards his disobedient child; he also appears to have been much attached to his Frankish Queen; and a compromise was effected. Ethelwulf took to himself the government of the Eastern states appertaining to Wessex; namely, the ancient kingdom of Kent, together with Sussex, Surrey, and perhaps Essex: whilst the kingdom of Wessex-proper, which, of right, belonged to the head of the family, became the portion of Ethelbald, though with a nominal subjection to his father.

Ethelwulf survived these events about four years. Upon his death, Ethelbald immediately married his own step-mother, Judith. This incestuous marriage caused great scandal; but nothing further is recorded concerning him.

He was succeeded by his brother, Ethelbert, who had already been in possession of the kingdom of Kent, with its dependencies. Immediately upon his accession, the invasions of the Danes were renewed. They had been busily employed in Gaul. Paris was burnt, together with many of the principal cities of that country; and so extensive were their operations, that whilst some of their squadrons ascended the Scheld, others passed through the Straits of Gibraltar; and sailing up the Mediterranean, had visited the southern shores with their fury. And now their unsatiated thirst of rapine was again directed against unhappy Britain. Winchester, the ancient capital of Wes­sex, shared the fate of Paris. The city was burnt to the ground. As the Danes were returning to their vessels, laden with spoil, they were attacked by the men of Hampshire and Berkshire, under the command of their respective Aldermen, Athelwulf and Osric, and some of the invading detachments were dispersed. The Saxons called this a victory; but such victories produced no more permanent effect than the fanning of your hand through a cloud of mosquitoes; they give way, and instantly they come together again, as numerous and as teasing as before.

FURTHER INVASIONS OF THE DANES

Though the Danes had not yet acquired any dominion in Britain, they had occupied Thanet, where they fixed their winter­quarters; and this Isle became a rallying point for their forces. (864-865).The same spot on which the Jutes first established themselves against the Britons, was fated to become equally detrimental to their descendants. The men of Kent concluded, or, to speak more accurately, bought, a treaty of peace. They paid a large sum to the Pagans as the price of their forbearance. The Danes took the gold, but they calculated that they could earn more by war than by peace. They secretly and treacherously quitted their position, and fearfully ravaged the country, whose inhabitants relied upon the compact which they had concluded.

The death of Ethelbert and the accession of Ethered, at this calamitous period, are events which appear scarcely discernible amidst the distress and turmoil of the war (866).

Halfdane, Hingwar and Hubba, the sons of Regner Lodbrok, now descended on the coast of East Anglia, having proceeded, as the chroniclers believed, from the Danube; that is to say, from their own northern country, which the ignorance of the monks confounded with the ancient Scythia.

According to the romantic history of the Scandinavians, this invasion was the result of filial piety.—Ella, king of Northumbria, had caused Regner Lodbrok to be cast into a pit full of vipers, by which he was ‘stung to death’; and it is said that this expedition was undertaken by the sons of Regner, to avenge the fate of their father.—No warrior of the North is more celebrated than this Regner Lodbrok, the son of Sigurd. Volumes have been filled with his adventures, and with disquisitions thereupon. I, however, have not space to enlarge upon them, nor indeed am I entirely persuaded of their authenticity. His surname, Lod­brok, was derived from the ingenious device which he employed for his protection when encountering a dragon, by whose death he was to win the hand of the beauteous Thora. It is hardly necessary to observe,—the fact being familiarly known to the merest tyro in romance,—that all dragons spit fire and poison ; and, in order to resist the venom of the beast, Regner, with as much ingenuity as ‘More of More Hall’ clad himself in garments of shaggy leather, of which that portion, which, if he had been a Highlander, he would not have worn, was so remarkable in its appearance, that the name Of Lodbrok adhered to him during the remainder of his life. It would have been well if the raiment itself had covered him in the cave of vipers; but it did not; and whilst the reptiles were ‘stinging’ him, he composed his celebrated death­song, called ‘Krakamal’ the foundation of his history; and this ode he sung whilst he was expiring.

Of such materials is the life of Regner composed and the Danish historians, in order to reduce his adventures into due chronology, are obliged to have recourse to their usual theory of multiplication. Torfaeus divides Regner Lodbrok into two. This will not suffice for Suhm: he supposes there were three successive Regners, and two successive Ellas, by whom the three Lodbroks were killed. Some of our chronicles attribute the expedition, to the revenge of a Northumbrian noble, one Bruern Brocard, irritated to madness, like another Count Julian, by the affront which he had received from the lust of Osbert, the king of Northumbria. And, according to a third narrative, Reg­ner Lodbrok having been cast ashore in East Anglia, was slain by Beorn, the huntsman of the king. But I must dismiss these tales, which I have quoted merely as specimens of the fables intermixed with our authentic history.

As soon as the Danes landed, the pirates were converted into an army of cavalry. They ‘horsed’ themselves forthwith; and their wonderful activity and bodily energy rendered them as formidable by land as by sea. Upon the ample folds of the standard which floated at the head of their host, was depicted the Raven, the bird of Odin. The magic banner had been woven and worked by the daughters of Regner Lodbrok, in one noontide; and the Danes believed that their national ensign was endued with prophetic powers. If victory was to follow, the Raven stood erect and soaring before the warriors ; but if a defeat was impending, the Raven hung his head and drooped his wings.

Had the Northumbrians and the Mercians cordially concurred, at this crisis, with the West Saxons, their united forces would have sufficed to repel the invaders. But even the imminent danger to which they were exposed, failed to produce any degree of union.

The Northumbrians were most unhappily employed in contending amongst themselves; the kingdom being divided between Osbert, who is called the legitimate King, and Ella, the Usurper. Osbert and Ella now plainly saw that their situation was desperate; they suspended their rivalry, and marched against the Heathen, who had occupied the city of York; and the Northumbrians became the assailants of their enemies. The conflict was stubborn; but the Danes gained the victory. Osbert and Ella were slain, and the North­men became the masters of the country, which they occupied.

Thus were the Northumbrians punished. Mercia now felt the scourge. The Heathens crossed the frontier, and took the town of Nottingham. King Burhred and the Mercians implored the aid of Ethered and Alfred, who readily advanced to their assistance, but with little effect, for the Danes retained possession of the town. Henceforth, Nottingham was reckoned among those which were especially denominated the Danish Burghs. The others were, Northweorthig, Leicester, Lincoln, Stamford, York, and Chester, forming a connected chain of strong positions, which equally commanded the English population of Mercia and of Northumbria. In these Burghs there appears to have settled a large and effective population composed of the higher classes of the Danish warriors; and the name of ‘Northweorthig’ was altered by them to the appellation of Deorby, or Derby, which the Town or Borough now bears.

Other similar changes of name took place.— Streoneshalch, the monastery of St. Hilda, acquired the name of Whitby; and it is probable that the greater part of the names of places in Yorkshire, Lincoln, Nottingham, and other shires of the Danelagh, which now terminate in the syllable ‘By,’ were fixed on them by the Danes, in whose language By signifies a place of abode. At a subsequent period, the Danish burghs were recovered by the Anglo-Saxons, but the Danish Thanes were not displaced; and as late as the reign of Ethelred, we can trace their existence as a privileged community, distinct from the kingdom in which they were included. Lincolnshire, or Lindesey, as it was then called, was attacked by the enemy, who advanced simultaneously from Mercia and Northumbria. (869-870). Here, as the traditions of the country in­form us, they were resisted with more conduct and valour than in other parts of England. Three Danish kings were slain in one battle; and the place where they were buried by their followers, acquired the name of Trekinsham, or Thrikingham, which it still retains. But fresh reinforcements of the invaders more than supplied the loss. Five kings, Godrun, Bacseg, Halfdane, Oskettel, and Hamond, and five Jarls, or Earls, Frena, Hingvar, and Hubba, and the two Sidrocs, the father and the son, poured their barbarian hordes into the country; and a victory, which they gained as much by artifice as by numbers, placed the land wholly in their power. Great numbers of the inhabitants were slain; and all the monasteries, Croyland, Medhamstede (afterwards Peterborough), Thomey, Ramsey, and Ely, were levelled with the ground.

The Danes had acquired considerable skill in the art of war; and if you trace their operations on the map, you will find, that, however desultory their attacks may have been, they had evidently formed a settled plan of operations. They sought to post their forces across the island, and also to occupy the best stations on the sea­coast; and hence they now directed their hostility against East Anglia.

At this period, the East Angles were governed by Edmund, a king of singular virtue and piety, and who defended his people against their enemies with great valour. During their invasion of this kingdom, the Danes displayed even more than usual ferocity. Edmund was defeated and made captive. It is said, that this event took place at Hoxne, in Suffolk. Being hotly pursued by his foes, he fled to this town, and attempted to conceal himself by crouching beneath a bridge, now called Gold- bridge. The glittering of his golden spurs discovered him to a newly-married couple, who were returning home by moonlight, and they betrayed him to the Danes. Edmund, as he was dragged from his hiding-place, pronounced a malediction upon all who should afterwards pass this bridge on their way to be married; and so much regard is paid to this tradition by the good folks of Hoxne, that now (or at least till within the last twenty years) no bride and bridegroom would venture along the forbidden path. It is not because I wish you to place any great reliance upon the minute details of such traditions, that I mention them; but they enable you to connect the general outline of history with the geography of England, and hence they may be always recollected with utility.

A particular account of Edmund’s death was given by his Sword-bearer, who, having attained a very advanced age, was wont to repeat the sad story at the court of Athelstane. Edmund was fettered and manacled, and treated with every species of cruelty and indignity. The Heathen Danes bound their captive to a tree, beat and scourged him, and shot their arrows at him as a mark—taunting him, and urging him to deny his faith; but he continued steadfast amidst his sufferings, until Hingvar, wearied by his constancy, commanded that he should be beheaded. His corpse, privately buried by his followers, was, in process of time, removed to a town originally called Badrichesworth, but now St. Edmund’s Bury—a monastery having been founded there to his honour by King Canute. Of this building, once the most sumptuous in England, only a few fragments remain; but the name of ‘ Edmund,’ transmitted from generation to generation in the families of Norfolk and Suffolk, attests the respect anciently rendered in East Anglia to the martyred Sovereign.

We must now return to the Danes. Elated by the victories which I have briefly narrated, they attacked the kingdom of Wessex, fighting their way as they advanced, and sustaining many changes of fortune. A bloody battle was fought at Ashdown: King Bacseg was slain, together with many other Danish leaders—Sidroc, and Osbern, and Frena, and Harold,— whose names had become the terror of the English nation. A single thorn-bush, which grew in the midst of the field, marked the spot where the fight had raged most furiously; and it was sur­rounded by heaps of corpses when the English became the masters of the ‘field of slaughter.’ No permanent advantage, however, was gained by this dear-bought victory. Less fortunate conflicts ensued, and the scale was turned against the English, by the continued reinforcements which filled the ranks of the Pagan armies. In one of these battles, Ethered received a wound, which, though not immediately fatal, was the cause of his death; the effects of the injury being probably aggravated, by the disquiet and mental uneasiness which he sustained.

 

 

CHAPTER VI

ACCESSION AND DEATH OF ALFRED THE GREAT<

 

Alfred, during the life of his brothers, was possessed of a subordinate royal authority. Some writers think that he was acknowledged as king by the Britons of Wales; but this point is not clear. According to the expression employed by Asser, his contemporary biographer, he was invested with a ‘secondary’ power, but no further contemporary exposition is obtained.

Alfred was already so much distinguished, both by his good sense and valour, that he might, had he chosen to do so, have obtained the title of King of Wessex, to the prejudice of Ethered; but he did not covet the dignity; and when, upon the decease of his brother, the voice of the nobles and people designated him as Ethered’s successor, he unwillingly accepted the laborious honour.

In those days, royalty, never an easy or enviable station, was accompanied by great danger and toil. A king was compelled to sleep on the hard ground, to encounter every privation and difficulty, and to expose his life for the defence of his crown and people; and, had Alfred been a sluggard, it might have been supposed that love of ease rendered him unwilling to undertake an office of so much peril. But his conduct, both before and after his accession, disproves this supposition; and we may, therefore, fully believe that he was actuated by the motive assigned for his reluctance, and transmitted to us by Asser, his biographer and friend. He knew that he could not be furthered in his attempts to govern well, except by the continual aid of Providence; and he feared that such help might not be granted unto him. With this full sense and conviction of his own utter weakness and inability to help himself, did Alfred begin his reign, during which he was enabled to acquire a better reputation than any other monarch of Western Christendom.

England sustained extreme misery and devastation at the period of Alfred’s accession to the throne. (871-872). Nine pitched battles were fought between the English and the Danes in the course of one year. The minor conflicts and skirmishes were innumerable. These wars were conducted with the most savage ferocity; neither old nor young were spared by the Danes. They were enemies who tore the screaming babes from the mothers’ arms, and tossed them on the point of the spear. If they took any prisoners, they never spared the lives of their captives, excepting for the purpose of extorting money from their relatives by way of ransom; and they often put their victims to death with the most cruel tortures. Against such foes did Alfred contend. The Mercians had utterly lost all courage, and made what was called a peace. This was observed by the Danes just as long as it was convenient to them. They established their head-quarters in Lincolnshire, until they had a good opportunity of attacking King Burhred, whom they defeated without difficulty. He escaped beyond the sea to Rome, where he ended his weary days, and was buried in the ‘school’ or college of the English nation.

Mercia was now entirely in the power of the Danes; but, according to their cunning policy, they did not immediately assume the government of the country. There was one Ceolwulf, a Thane, or ‘Minister’ of King Burhred, whom they found to be a convenient tool: and they installed him as king; but upon condition, that he should be ready to give up his kingdom whenever he should be required by his masters. Ceolwulf, invested with this precarious dominion, acted like a Turkish Pasha: he only endeavoured to make the most of his government. Mercia had been completely ravaged; the greater part of the nobility had fled, or had fallen in battle ; few but the peasantry or churls were left. These were plundered most pitilessly by Ceolwulf, who continued to commit every act of oppression, until his Danish masters needed him no longer. As soon as it was convenient for them to do so, they deprived him of his disgraceful authority.

Northumbria, as you will recollect, had been already overrun; but the Danes had not yet entirely reduced the country. After the death of Osbert and Ella, they appointed one Egbert, a Northumbrian, to govern, or rather to oppress, Bernicia, as a vassal King, under their supremacy. In one of the revolutions which desolated that country, he was expelled, and Ricsig, a Dane, was appointed in his stead; but the inroads of the enemy were renewed. The Pagans, under Halfdane, destroyed all the churches and monasteries. The ruin of the cathedral of Lindisfairne, in particular, was lamented as the greatest misfortune of the age.

Cuthbert, one of the Prelates of this see, canonized by the grateful veneration of the English, was considered as the patron saint of the North; and the island of Lindisfairne was viewed as holy land. A considerable tract between the Tyne and Wear, part of the ancient march-land between the two Northumbrian kingdoms, had been granted to the bishops, and brought into cultivation by their tenants. This territory was desolated by the Danes, who extended their devastations over every part of Northumbria: nor did they spare the adjoining districts: Picts, Scots, and Cumbrians—all were equally ravaged by them. Halfdane completed his conquest by dividing great part of the Northumbrian territory amongst his followers, who, settling amongst the Angles, were at last so mixed with them, as to form almost one people.

During these transactions, a continual predatory warfare was carried on in every part of Britain by the Danish or northern chieftains. They infested the coast of France with equal pertinacity. Sometimes they were defeated; but after every re­verse they seemed more powerful than ever.—‘If thirty thousand are slain in one day’—said the English—‘there will be double that number in the field on the morrow.’

The Danes were remarkable for the celerity of their movements, both by sea and land. As soon as they disembarked from their ships, the pirates became a force of cavalry, and dashed through England. This activity magnified their apparent numbers; yet they were really very numerous, and commanded by the most valiant and experienced of the sons of Odin.

Amongst these chieftains was one Hrolf, or Rollo, whom his own countrymen called the ‘Ganger,’ or the ‘Walker.’ It is supposed that he was marvellously tall and bulky, and some Danish historians assert that he was always compelled to walk or go on foot, as no horse could bear his weight; and that he hence derived his name.—‘No,’—say other grave Danish historians;—‘Rollo did ride, but when he was on horseback, his long legs almost touched the ground, and thus he seemed to be walking.’—Since this diversity of opinion exists among the learned, I may have an hypothesis of my own ; and I will conjecture that he acquired the name of the ‘Ganger, from his incessant movements against his enemies. Rollo, after an expedition against the Hebrides, landed in England. Defeated, or at least checked, in an obstinate conflict, he drew off to France, where a brighter fortune awaited him. After a long series of events, Rollo succeeded in gaining possession of the province of Neustria, which the king of the French, Charles the Simple, was compelled to yield to the Danish pirate. This cession, however, was made upon condition, that he should consider himself as the vassal of Charles, and that the king of the French should be accepted as the superior of the Duke of the Northmen. Rollo had little reluctance to enter into this stipulation; and the scene which took place, when he was invested with the territory, will show what kind of subjects the Northmen were likely to prove. It was the custom in Gaul, that the vassal who received a donation should kiss the king’s foot; which, after all, being the accustomed form, was no more humiliating than the act of kissing the king's hand. Rollo refused,—he said he would bow to no one;—but at last he consented to perform the ceremony by deputy, and he beckoned to one of his soldiers to come forward accordingly. The gruff and surly Dane obeyed; but seizing hold of the king’s foot, he raised it to his lips with so much rudeness and violence, that Charles the Simple was thrown upon his back, amidst the shouts and laughter of the surrounding multitude. Rollo, the ‘Ganger,’ who took the name of Robert, thus became the first Duke of Normandy. Berengarius and Alan, the chiefs of the Britons of Armorica, submitted, as his vassals, to his power; and the English, in after times, had reason enough to rue the day on which Rollo abandoned Britain for the opposite shore.

Whilst one great body of the Danes found employment in reducing the kingdom of Mercia, others continued their operations against Alfred and the West Saxons. An army of these barbarians marched against Exeter; whilst their navy, stationed at the mouth of the Thames, sailed westward, for the purpose of joining the land forces. Exeter seems at that time to have been a free city, almost independent of the Kings of Wessex: and the Britons, as you may recollect, were rebelling against the English government; so that the Danes wisely attempted to assail Alfred in the most vulnerable portion of his dominions. Alfred, who was fully sensible of the importance attached to naval warfare, had ordered ‘long ships,’ or vessels calculated for warfare, to be built in all the ports, wherewith he intended to intercept the pirates; but he was unexpectedly assisted by the elements: a great storm arose, and many of the Danish ships were lost. Alfred’s army was sufficiently numerous to allow him to invest the Danes in Exeter, but he could not take the city; and a peace, or truce, was negotiated between the besieged and the besiegers.

The Danes took oaths, and gave hostages, for the due observance of the peace. In the preceding year they had broken a similar engagement contracted in the most solemn manner—by swearing on the ‘holy ring or bracelet,’ consecrated to Odin. But they were not believers, even in their own misbelief: they had violated their promise; and the truce into which they had now entered, was infringed by them with equal readiness. The faithlessness of these barbarians was only to be equalled by their ferocity; and such as they were, would the Anglo-Saxons have become, had it not been for the introduction of Christianity.

In the depth of the winter, (878 A.D.), a season in which military operations can seldom be pursued, the Danes made a sudden irruption into Wilts, and the adjoining shires. So fearful was their incursion, that a great portion of the inhabitants fled to the Isle of Wight: others submitted. Alfred, almost wholly deprived of his authority, was driven with a small but trusty band of followers,—and his old mother, Osburgha, also accompanied him,—into ‘Athelney,’ a secluded spot, at the confluence of the Thone and the Parrett, surrounded by marshes and moors, which served at once for his concealment and his defence; and great were the hardships and privations which Alfred here sustained. He now lived like an outlaw. His daily sustenance depended upon chance and accident. Sometimes the waters furnished him with food: sometimes he hunted the wild-deer; and sometimes he was compelled to forage in the country occupied by the Danes, and to seize by force the stores of the enemy. Yet these misfortunes neither damped his courage, nor subdued his energy.

ALFRED AND THE NEATHERD’S WIFE

Amongst other adventures, it chanced that he was sheltered in the cabin of a Neatherd. Here an adventure happened to him which has been often told. Crouching before the fire, he was busily employed in fitting his bow and arrows: round the hearth were the loaves which the wife of the Neatherd had prepared. Alfred had been commanded by her to take care of the batch; and intent as he was upon his other task, he did not perceive that the bread was caught by the fire. The Good-wife, who had quicker eyes, ran to the hearth and turned the loaves ; and she rated Alfred soundly for his carelessness.—‘Why, man,’—she cried out at the top of her shrill voice’—‘with such idleness and neglect, how can ye come to good in the world, be ye who you may?’—And she continued her vituperations, telling him that he, who was ready enow to devour the loaves when baked, was surely bound to be more attentive during the baking. To these reproofs, Alfred listened with great patience, turning the loaves as he was bid by the Shrew, and never replying to her upbraidings. Our historians must have considered this obedi­ence as a great trial, for it holds a prominent station in all their histories. We know that Alfred was wont, when happier times arrived, to recount his adventures to his listening friends; and this anecdote may have been among those which originally rested upon his own testimony.

One very curious fact remains to be added. The king wore an ornament, probably fastened to a necklace, made of gold and enamel, which being lost by him at Athelney, was found there, entire and undefaced, in the seventeenth century. It is now preserved at Oxford; and the inscription which surrounds it, ‘Alfred het meh gewirca,—‘ Alfred caused me to be (worked) made—affords the most authentic testimony of its origin.

Whilst Alfred was thus concealed, the men of Wessex gained a signal victory. Biorn-Ironside and Hubba, who attempted to land in Devonshire, were killed, together with many of their followers. Hubba was buried under a cairn, which, in after ages, retained his name. The Danes lamented their chieftain with loud outcries; but it was not their custom to grieve long over their dead; and ten times the number of the slain would scarcely have occasioned any perceptible diminution of their forces. Their magical banner, the Raven, had, however, become the prize of the enemy; and this loss, added to the death of their leaders, served to dispirit them, and to impress them with feelings of inferiority, hitherto unknown. The news of the battle reached Alfred in his seclusion in Athelney, and he determined upon bolder operations. Disguising himself as a Minstrel or Glee-man, he stole into the camp of the Danes, and was gladly received by the rude chieftains, as one who increased their mirth and jollity. So skilfully did Alfred act his part, that whilst he entirely escaped suspicion or detection, there was no object which he did not observe, both with eyes and ears. He thus abode amongst the Danes for several days, till he had satisfied his mind upon every matter which he wished to investigate, and he then returned to his hiding-place.

About Easter, Alfred and his followers had completed a ‘work’ or entrenchment, at Athelney, which he destined, and successfully, as the key of his position against the enemy. Seven weeks afterwards, having been joined by the men of Somerset, he sallied forth and took his position at ‘Egbert’s stone,’ on the verge of the forest of Selwood; which by the Welch, or British inhabitants of Somerset, who perhaps constituted the majority of the population, was called by the name of the great forest or Coit-mawr. Here he unfurled his standard. All the inhabitants of the adjoining districts of Somerset, Dorset, and Hampshire, mustered beneath the banner of Alfred with the utmost zeal. They rejoiced to see him again amidst them; and whatever causes of discontent had existed, these were now wholly forgotten. With the forces thus raised, and at the head of an army of warriors who, for the first time, could venture to hope that their country might be delivered from the enemy, Alfred prepared for the struggle. Two days were employed in making ready for battle. On the third, the king assembled his army; and, taking advantage of a commanding height, he encamped there. The following morning, he advanced to a spot called Ethandune, in front of the enemy. Alfred then addressed his troops: his speech was short and energetic, exhorting them to avail themselves, of this, perhaps the last opportunity, of rescuing themselves from shameful slavery. The battle began by a flight of arrows. The English and British lances were next hurled against the Northmen; and when the missiles were ex­pended, the combatants engaged hand to hand. After a murderous conflict, the English were left masters of the field; whilst the scattered remnants of the Danish army, under Guthrun, were compelled to take refuge in their entrenchments. Here they were blockaded by Alfred during fourteen days. No succour could be afforded to them by their countrymen; and at last, being well-nigh hunger-starved, they were compelled to accept the terms which Alfred imposed.

Alfred, though victorious, could not expel the Banes from the island of Britain: he was compelled to cede an extensive territory to these invaders, and to Guthrun their King—namely, from the mouth of the Lea to its source, thence to Bedford, and thence along the Ouse to Watling Street, or the ancient Roman road;—and this territory, together with Northumbria, became from henceforth known by the name of the Danelagh, or Dane-law.

In East Anglia, and in the portions of Essex and Mercia thus ceded, the Danes settled and established themselves; not as enemies, but as vassals to Alfred’s crown. Guthrun became a convert to Christianity—Alfred was his godfather;—and the Banes followed the example of their king. They appear to have been wearied out, by their own barbarism. A compact, or treaty, was concluded between Guthrun and Alfred, for the confirmation of peace and friendship between the two nations; and such laws were established, by mutual consent, as were best calculated to ensure a reasonable conformity to the Anglo-Saxon policy, though many of their old customs were still retained by the Danes.

It may be thought that Alfred would have acted more wisely by insisting that the Danes should entirely quit Britain. But, had he done so, how would he have prevented their return in the following year?—they had the command of the sea. The country had been so much depopulated by the wars, that the settlement of the Danes did not straiten the East Anglians; and Guthrun, as long as he lived, appears to have continued in peace and friendship with his godfather, rendering to him that subjection which was due from a vassal to his lord.

After the death of Halfdane, the ‘Host’ of Danes who had conquered Northumbria continued without a leader. The Northmen were much at variance amongst themselves. Several years before, the sons of Regner Lodbrok had seized upon Guthred, the son of Hardacnute, the king of Lethra, in Sweden: they sold him as a slave, or thrall; and, at the period concerning which I am now writing, Hardacnute’s son was in servitude, the property of an old widow in Northumberland. Guthred’s lineage, however, was known: he was marked as one of royal race, and he was raised to the supreme authority in a very singular manner. Eadred, Bishop of Lindisfairne, acting, as it is said, under the di­rection of St. Cuthbert, who had appeared to him in a dream, proceeded to the host of the Danes, and persuaded them, as well as the English, to accept Guthred as their sovereign. He was conducted to ‘Oswin’s Dune,’ or the Hill of Oswin, and invested with the golden bracelets, the ensigns of royal dignity, and solemnly inaugurated as King of the Northumbrians, though in vassalage to Alfred as his superior. Guthred was deeply indebted to Bishop Eadred; and following the hint given by a second vision of St. Cuthbert, he paid his debt of gratitude by granting and confirming to the Bishop, not only the lands between Tyne and Wear, the ancient endowment of Lindisfairne, but the royal dominion over all the land between Tyne and Tees. Alfred assented to this donation: perhaps he directed it should be made; and he probably saw the advantage which would result from the grant. Covered for the greater part with wood and forests, the country in itself was of little value. In the possession of the Church, the soil would be improved, and brought into cultivation; and the respect rendered to St. Cuthbert might perhaps contribute to protect his Franchise from hostile invasion. From this ancient donation, arose the Palatinate rights of the prelates of Durham, which the modem Bishops still, in part, retain. All the ultimate property, or dominion of the land in the county palatine, is vested in the Bishop, and to him it reverts if the freeholder dies without an heir, or incurs a legal forfeiture. The gift made by the royal donor was so expressed as to convey a complete jurisdiction, and the Bishop became a kind of prince within his franchise. He exercised the power of life and death. Like a king, he could pardon and condemn; and even now, the Bishop of Durham may, if he chooses, sit on the bench in his scarlet robes when the judges try a criminal within his palatinate.

Guthred, like Guthrun, continued true and faithful to Alfred; and the English began to enjoy a respite from their enemies. With the Britons, Alfred never was engaged in war: they seemed, indeed, to consider his government as their best protection, and they submitted completely to his supremacy. In Mercia, where the old royal line had been extinguished, the people whom he had delivered were too happy to hail him as their lord. But, according to the constitution of the Anglo-Saxon states, it was desirable that they should have a ruler of their own; and this authority Alfred bestowed upon his son-in-law, Ethelred, who, about 883, under the title of Alderman, governed the country with royal power. In the course of seven years after his restoration, Alfred was ac­knowledged as the paramount monarch of Britain south of the Humber; for, though the Danes were not always obedient, still the theory of their government imported that they were his vassals. Wessex, with its dependencies, the most opulent and favoured portion of the island, was entirely, in fact as well as in name, under Alfred’s royal authority. Mercia was virtually under his dominion; and wherever his power extended, he applied himself, with all his heart and soul, to promote the welfare of the community.

England was like a country which had been visited with a destructive inundation. The flood had subsided, but the face of the land was covered with desolation and ruin. Alfred’s labours will be detailed hereafter: successful as they were, he was compelled to prosecute them during a period of hostility, scarcely less obstinate and harassing than that series of attacks which had nearly destroyed the independence of his kingdoms.

The Scandinavian pirates had acquired so much fierceness and activity, that they seemed to have planned the subjugation of the whole of Europe. Whether they plundered the northern or the southern shores of the Channel, their movements constituted but part of one great scheme. It was Scandinavian Heathendom, against all Christendom. Hence, if they were defeated, it was considered, and truly, that the advantage was for all the civi­lised nations of Europe; whilst every success which they gained was felt as a common disaster.

And upon this ground the Scots claimed and earned the gratitude and friendship of Charlemagne, for a victory which they obtained over the Northmen. The balance of success, on the whole, was in favour of the Heathens: and they were often really victors when they appeared to be vanquished; for even if dispersed, after plundering a city, they were able to carry off as much booty as repaid them for the loss of life, of which they were reckless.

The Chronicles detail a series of attacks sustained by Alfred, after the recovery of his authority, which could only be made intelligible by relating them as they happened, and in chronological order. Here it is sufficient to state, that the Danes continued hovering about the coasts; shifting their quarters from Fulham to Ghent, from the Thames to the Maine, as best answered their purpose. Alfred, on his part, never relaxed his vigilance; and when the armies of the Danes were blockading Paris, he availed himself of that opportunity to fortify the city of London, which had been repeatedly plundered and insulted by the barbarians.

The siege of Paris lasted during two entire years. It was followed by extensive warfare in the country now called Flanders, then a dependence upon the crown of the Frankish Sovereigns. A great famine ensued. (893)—England still offering many tempting resources, the Danes determined to return to our island; and in the course of a very few days, the Kentish men saw a fleet of two hundred and fifty vessels, all filled with warriors, stationed off the mouth of the Rother and the adjoining shore, whilst another fleet of eighty vessels entered the Thames.

This squadron, formidable from its numbers, was commanded by the famous Hasting, the son of one of the most experienced Danish warriors; and he displayed his skill by forthwith casting up strong entrenchments, in which his forces took up their position, and continued for about a year. Other bands overspread the country. The Danes of Northumbria and East Anglia, the latter under King Eric, violated their oaths of fealty, and joined their kinsmen in their work of desolation.

Alfred was in much perplexity, yet nothing disheartened. He had great difficulty in bringing up his forces; for the ‘Fyrd ’ or ‘levée-en-masse’, could not be compelled to serve more than a stated time, probably forty days; and it was also necessary to provide for the defence of the towns and the cultivation of the country. He therefore adopted the plan of calling the militia out in divisions; so that one division supplied the place of the other, which continued at home. In the course of the war, Alfred’s troops surprised a fortress at Benfleet, where Hasting had left his wife and children. Alfred sent back the youths and their mother to Hasting, uninjured and unharmed. This act of magnanimity did not excite any corresponding sentiment on the part of the Dane. He relented not; but collected his forces again, and advancing into Mercia, he carried on the war in the very heart of England.

Being surrounded, in a disadvantageous position on the banks of the Severn, the Danes could not obtain any provisions, and were nearly starved. They broke out, and suffered great loss from the Anglo-Saxon armies, which encompassed them. And yet these routed freebooters rallied again in Essex. All that they possessed, and that they valued most, their wives, their children, and their plunder, they committed to the care of their kindred, the East Anglian Danes; and then marching on the stretch, day and night, they crossed the island, and threw themselves into Chester, then devoid of inhabitants. It had been very strongly fortified by the Romans; and the noble arched gateways, built by them, were standing until a recent period. Chester, after the Roman period, was successively occupied by the Britons and Anglo-Saxons; but the city had been abandoned during the convulsions of the times. The direction of the Danes towards this distant point, shows how well they were acquainted with the military capabilities of the country. Amidst all their apparent irregularity, they made war by system. Wales was also plundered by the Danes; and the Britons found, to their cost, that the ‘Black strangers’ were as bitter enemies as the ‘Sassenagh.’ As soon as they had gathered this harvest of plunder, away again they marched. Alfred and his army were distanced by their rapid movements; and long before the winter had set in, the Danes were stationed in Essex, and in the southern parts of the kingdom.

The Danish forces pressed so close upon London, that Alfred was compelled to encamp with his army round about the city, whilst the citizens got in their harvest. London, as I have before observed, was a place of considerable trade; but the great majority of the Burgesses, as in all the Anglo-Saxon towns, were husband­men and soldiers. The Danes, wary and considerate, had selected a station about twenty miles from London, situated on the river Lea; and that river, then much deeper than it is at present, was filled with their vessels. Alfred, certainly not without much danger to himself, surveyed the Danish camp, and devised a plan for preventing further annoyance from the enemy. He caused two fortifications or bulwarks to be erected on either shore of the Lea, below the Danish station; and he also lowered the level of the river, by cutting three additional channels, which drained off the stream into the Thames. The want of water, and the fortifications cast up by Alfred, prevented the Danes from getting their vessels out. But their boldness equalled Alfred’s invention. As before, they intrusted their wives and their children, and their booty, to their East Anglian brethren; and abandoning their vessels and their entrenchments, they stole out, crossed the land, reached ‘Quatbridge’ on the Severn; and there cast up such entrenchments, as offered a formidable obstacle to all the forces which Alfred could raise.

In the following summer, the Host of the Danes dispersed themselves, some into East Anglia, some into Northumbria. Hasting sailed to the Seine, and he never again revisited England. Many of the Danes, who had lost all their gains and plunder by the casualties of war, put themselves afloat again, and carried on their attacks with great vigour, infesting and harassing the country. Alfred constantly sought to meet them, and he caused ‘long ships’ to be constructed, steadier in their draught, higher in their sides, and swifter in their course, than any others. The Danish and Frisian build appears hitherto to have been considered as the best model of naval architecture; but these more serviceable ships were after a plan of Alfred’s own.

In a battle off the coast of Devonshire, the new vessels were tried against the enemy. Alfred’s ships were principally officered by Frieslanders, who were, perhaps, better seamen than his own subjects, though not better warriors. After the battle, two of the Danish ships were cast on shore: their crews were conducted to Alfred at Winchester, and he ordered that they should be hanged—a cruel and unjustifiable act of vengeance. The Danes do not seem to have violated the law of nations, as such law was then understood. Mortal punishment, thus inflicted upon the wretches whom misfortune had placed in Alfred’s power, was contrary to the customs of his age, as well as irreconcileable to the dictates of mercy; and we must acknowledge this stain upon the character of our Anglo-Saxon King.

That he yielded to a feeling of vengeance, is, perhaps, to be ascribed to the contemplation of the miseries which the Danes had inflicted upon his people. In addition to the harm occasioned by the war, sickness had, as usual, followed the host of the destroyers; and very many of the ‘mightiest Thanes,’ or people of the greatest consequence, had perished by the pestilence. Alfred died six nights before ‘All­Hallows Mass-day,’ in the year 901, in the fifty-third year of his age: prematurely, if years be alone reckoned, but full of desert and honour.

 

CHAPTER VII.

ALFRED, THE WISEST MAN IN ENGLAND. LITERATURE AND CULTIVATION OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS. THE RUNES. THE LATIN ALPHABET INTRODUCED BY THE ROMAN MIS­SIONARIES—DIFFICULTY OF EXPLAINING RUNIC INSCRIP­TIONS—ART OF WRITING NOT MUCH PRACTISED, AND COMPARATIVELY OF SMALL IMPORTANCE.        USE OF VISIBLE SYMBOLS IN LEGAL TRANSACTIONS INSTEAD OF WRITTEN INSTRUMENTS. HISTORICAL POETRY OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS.SCARCITY OF BOOKS—POSSIBLE DECAY OF LITERATURE AND SCIENCE.