THE

CHRISTIAN AMBASSADOR

ART. I.-ALFRED THE GREAT.

LFRED, whom history has justly designated "the Great," belonged to the long line of Anglo-Saxon kings, the last of whom perished on the field of Hastings. An acquaintance with the political condition of England in the ninth century is essential to a proper understanding of his character and reign, and the formidable difficulties with which he had to contend.

After 150 years of bloody war, the Anglo-Saxons had driven the Britons into Cornwall and the mountains of Wales. England was now the home of a new race. The sturdy Teuton had displaced the fiery and impulsive Celt. Having found a richer country and a milder climate, the fierce pirates and sea-kings of the north ceased from their marauding expeditions, and began to cultivate the arts of peace. Christianity was introduced among them, and under its benign influence they rapidly increased in civilisation and wealth.

Anglo-Saxon England was originally divided into seven kingdoms called the Heptarchy, the most important of which were Wessex, Mercia, and Northumbria. Northumbria stretched from the Humber to the mountain home of the Picts and Scots. Mercia comprehended all the midland counties from the Humber in the north to the Thames in the south; Wessex the whole of the kingdom south of the Thames, and behind these, along the east coast, were situated the minor states.

From the manner in which the Saxons, composed of different clans, and led by independent chieftains, acquired possession of England, it was natural that the country should be divided into several small kingdoms; but it was improbable that this dominion should continue long. Its geographical form indicates that it was designed to be the home of one people and the domain of one Sovereignty. Gradually the smaller states yielded to the greater, until Egbert, king of Wessex, having conquered the rival kingdom of Mercia, became virtually king of all England. From Egbert, who reigned at the beginning of the ninth century, the English

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monarchy dates its commencement, and through him from Cerdic the first king of Wessex, all the dynasties that have ruled England-Saxons, Normans, Plantagenets, Tudors, &c., claim to have descended.

The ninth century is memorable also for the invasion and ravages of the Danes. Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and the islands of the Baltic poured forth vast hordes of merciless pirates upon the northeastern part of England. From the stormy bays and creeks of their northern home, these fierce warriors, trained to hardship and adventure, led by their vikings, "men the bravest of the brave, who never slept beneath a raftered roof, or drained the bowl by a sheltered hearth," impelled by a desire for plunder, launched their ships, and passing along the coast of Flanders, Holland and France, fell like a tempest on the shores of Britain.

The Danes made their first appearance on the coasts of England in the latter part of the eighth century, but they did not appear in any large numbers until the time of Egbert. In the latter part of his reign these "locusts of the Baltic," as they were called, were continually invading some part of his dominions: though often defeated they returned in greater force.

In the reign of Ethelwulph, the father of Alfred, they became more fierce and persistent in their attacks, by degrees acquiring territory, and driving the Anglo-Saxons before them. Many of the towns and cities were stormed and pillaged. Such atrocities were perpetrated by them that their name became a terror to the inhabitants. They were evidently bent upon a settlement in England, not by subduing the inhabitants as the Romans and Saxons had done, but by exterminating them.

At this critical period, when the strength of the infant monarchy was tried by these formidable foes, Alfred was born, evidently raised up by providence for this crisis in our national history. He was the youngest son of Ethelwulph by his wife Osberth, a woman, says Asser, remarkable for her piety and understanding. Wantage in Berkshire claims the honour of giving him birth, where many memorials of him still exist. His education was entrusted to St. Swithin, Bishop of Rochester, a man of experience and sagacity. Alfred was in early life distinguished for his ardent thirst for knowledge, and for pious, reverential feelings. To qualify himself for his future position, in which strength and personal courage were of prime moment he devoted a part of his time to manly exercises and the labours of the chase. His father, who saw in him early indications of future greatness, sent him to Rome, accompanied by a large train of attendants to solicit of Pope Leo the oil of consecration, by which kingly power was supposed to be conferred. It is said that he visited Rome subsequently to this, and was educated for some time at a school founded by his father. His visits to

Rome, and his residence in the imperial city were, perhaps, the most important events in his early life, and doubtless exerted a most important influence on his character. Rome bad then passed the meridian of her glory; the sceptre of military supremacy which she had swayed over the nations had fallen from her grasp, but she was still the seat of civilisation and religion, and full of the monuments of ancient art. An enthusiastic and ardent mind like Alfred's could not fail to be impressed with what he saw, and the remembrance of it would produce in after years an eager desire to improve and elevate his own country.

Meanwhile the Danes were committing the most fearful ravages. "From this time," says one writer, "language cannot describe their devastations. It can only repeat the words plunder, murder, rape, famine, distress. It can only enumerate towns, villages, churches, and monasteries, harvests, and libraries ransacked and burned. But by the incessant repetition the horrors are diminished, and we read without emotion of deeds which rent the hearts of thousands with anguish, and inflicted wounds on human happiness and improvements which ages with difficulty healed." The relentless ferocity of the Danes arose partly from their religious faith. They looked upon the tiller of the ground and the merchant as deteriorated Thus in the life of the heathen sea-king, contempt of the civilised man became a feeling eminently religious, and a heart which left no room for pity, became the heart regarded as in the highest degree fitted for the pleasures of the Norse paradise. Barbarianism became a necessary condition of devoutness, and cruelty become a fruit of piety. The southern people were regarded, not only as the foreign, but as the effeminate-as natural enemies to the true children of nature, and to send many such souls to Odin was to live to some purpose." They regarded the Saxons, who had become converts to the Christian faith, with peculiar hatred. Of the same race, and speaking nearly the same language, they looked upon them as wretched apostates from their ancestral faith, to whom no mercy should be shown or quarter given. It was thus a war of barbarism against civilisation, and of Paganism against Christianity. The Danes had special delight in shedding the blood of Anglo-Saxon priests, in plundering monasteries, and desecrating churches. The beautiful abbeys of Croyland and Peterborough were destroyed, the monks connected with them brutally murdered, and the libraries committed to the flames. When they had wasted with fire and sword, they would say in mockery, "We have sung the mass of the lances, it began at dawn of morning, and has lasted even until night."

About the time when Alfred attained to manhood, the Danish invasion was at its height. Having subdued Northumbria and Mercia, the kingdom of Wessex became the object of attack. A

large army of Northmen, led by the two kings Bagseg and Halfdene, by two distinguished chiefs, and the earls Osbearn, Frene, and Harold, ascended the Thames in their ships, and sending off detachments in different directions, overran the South provinces of the West Saxons, the main body penetrating as far as Reading.

Alfred and his brother Ethelred, who was then king, collected their forces and advanced to meet the Danes. In the first encounter the Saxons were defeated, but rallying again, they shortly offered battle at a place called Ashdown, where the most bloody conflict that had yet taken place ensued. It was a real trial of strength between the Saxons and Danes. Alfred was early astir, and prompt in preparing for battle. The Danes having divided themselves into two bodies, and raised their shields over their heads in the form of a tortoise arch, the Saxons imitated their example. Ethelred ought to have given the word of command, but he was at his devotions and could not leave until the priest had uttered the last word of prayer, but Alfred seeing the time for action had come and that it would be dangerous to delay, gave the signal for battle, and impetuously led his troops in compact order against the Danes. The Northmen bent on conquest, and flushed with previous victories, fought with determined courage. The Saxons, fighting for liberty and religion, their families and homes, performed prodigies of valour. On the field of battle grew a solitary thorn, around which the battle raged fiercely, until the Danes, having lost a great part of their force, and some of their most distinguished leaders, fled, pursued by the Saxons. Though this defeat cost the Danes so dearly, they were soon ready for battle again. Fresh supplies of men filled up the broken ranks. The hive whence they issued seemed inexhaustible. Two battles soon followed in which the Danes were partially successful. In one of these Ethelred was slain, leaving the throne to his brother Alfred.

Seldom has a king come to the throne under circumstances more gloomy and inauspicious. Everything foreboded a short and calamitous reign. The Saxons, shattered and dispirited, were scarcely able to hold their own against the savage bands of Northmen that overran the kingdom, and the issue of the conflict might reduce Alfred and his subjects to the condition of slaves. The other kingdoms of the Heptarchy were subdued, and with Alfred and the men of Wessex it rested to determine the future race and faith of England. Alfred was not the man to falter in the path of duty. No sooner had he consigned his brother Ethelred to the tomb, than he led forth his forces against the Danes. In the first year of his reign no fewer than eight pitched battles were fought, besides incessant skirmishing. The gloom was thickening over the nation. The Danes, who mustered to the conflict in still greater numbers, were evidently bent on gaining possession of England. It was no

longer plunder, but dominion for which they fought. They formed permanent settlements in the large towns, changing their names. Spreading over Northumbria, they reduced Tynemouth and Carlisle to ashes; seeking fresh territory, they attacked the Picts and Scots, and Cambrians. It seemed, indeed, as if everything was going to be swept before them.

During this gloomy period, the wide sea-board of England, without a navy, was a source of weakness to the Saxons. The acute mind of Alfred perceived the importance of being able to intercept the Danes on the ocean. As it was, the Danes having command of the sea, could land their forces at the most vulnerable points. Ships of war were therefore built and manned, and a splendid naval victory over the Danes was achieved. The clumsy galleys that Alfred built, rowed with oars, and armed with nothing better than the swords and spears of their crews, may appear contemptible when compared to those magnificent iron clads, propelled by steam and of formidable armament, which form our present navy; but it is interesting to note the beginning of that naval power, which has developed into such grand proportions, the unfurling for the first time of that "flag which has braved a thousand years the battle and the breeze." It is interesting to chronicle the first of those splendid naval victories which have made Britannia mistress of the seas.

With the exception of this gleam of sunshine, the promise of future glory, the fortunes of the Anglo-Saxons were now at their lowest ebb. Discouraged by repeated defeats, the proud spirit of the Saxons was broken. Many fled into the mountain fastnesses of the country with what they could carry with them, while others submitted to their conquerors. In vain Alfred sent his messengers through the towns and hamlets, carrying an arrow and a naked sword, the symbolic war summons. The old national proclamation, "Let every man that is not unworthy, whether in the boroughs, or out of the boroughs, leave his house and come forward," a proclamation which few Saxons capable of bearing arms had ever before disregarded, was now responded to by few. Alfred found himself nearly alone, and was obliged to flee for his life, a fugitive in the kingdom over which he had so lately reigned.

If at this time Alfred had given up the cause of his country, and taken refuge in foreign lands, how different might have been the future of England. "The old northern Paganism-which the Saxon had abandoned-would have again become ascendant; the religion of the Cross would have probably ceased. The barbaric customs of Scandinavia would have found a new home in England. The near prospect of that powerful English monarchy, towards which so many influences had seemed to be converging, would have Vanished. This island might have become, and have long continued,