gained a foothold, and in a few years nearly the whole of England was
in their hands. Wave followed wave in the dreadful invasion; fleet after
fleet and army after army was destroyed, and the Saxons were driven
nearly to despair; for added to the evils of pillage and destruction were
pestilence and famine, the usual attendants of desolating wars. In the
year 878 the heroic leader of the disheartened people was compelled to
hide himself, with a few faithful followers, in the forest of Selwood,
amid the marshes of Somersetshire. Yet Alfred--a fugitive--succeeded
at last in rescuing his kingdom of Wessex from the dominion of Pagan
barbarians, and restoring it to a higher state of prosperity than it had
ever attained before. He preserved both Christianity and civilization.
For these exalted services he is called "the Great;" and no prince ever
more heroically earned the title.
"It is hard," says Hughes, who has written an interesting but not
exhaustive life of Alfred, "to account for the sudden and complete
collapse of the West Saxon power in January, 878, since in the
campaign of the preceding year Alfred had been successful both by sea
and land." Yet such seems to have been the fact, whatever may be its
explanation. No such panic had ever overcome the Britons, who made a
more stubborn resistance. No prince ever suffered a severer humiliation
than did the Saxon monarch during the dreary winter of 878; but,
according to Asser, it was for his ultimate good. Alfred was deeply and
sincerely religious, and like David saw the hand of God in all his
misfortunes. In his case adversity proved the school of greatness. For
six months he was hidden from public view, lost sight of entirely by his
afflicted subjects, enduring great privations, and gaining a scanty
subsistence. There are several popular legends about his life in the
marshes, too well known to be described,--one about the cakes and
another about his wanderings to the Danish camp disguised as a
minstrel, both probable enough; yet, if true, they show an extraordinary
depth of misfortunes.
At last his subjects began to rally. It was known by many that Alfred
was alive. Bodies of armed followers gradually gathered at his retreat.
He was strongly intrenched; and occasionally he issued from his retreat
to attack straggling bands, or to make reconnoissance of the enemy's
forces. In May, 878, he left his fortified position and met some brave
and faithful subjects at Egbert's Stone, twenty miles to the east of
Selwood. The gathering had been carefully planned and secretly made,
and was unknown to the Danes. His first marked success was at
Edington, or Ethandune, where the Pagan host lay encamped, near
Westbury. We have no definite knowledge of the number of men
engaged in that bloody and desperate battle, in which the Saxons were
greatly outnumbered by the Danes, who were marshalled under a
chieftain called Guthrun. But the battle was decisive, and made Alfred
once more master of England south of the Thames. Guthrun, now in
Alfred's power, was the ablest warrior that the Northmen had as yet
produced. He was shut up in an inland fort, with no ships on the nearest
river, and with no hope of reinforcements. At the end of two weeks he
humbly sued for peace, offering to quit Wessex for good, and even to
embrace the Christian religion. Strange as it may seem, Alfred granted
his request,--either, with profound statesmanship, not wishing to drive a
desperate enemy to extremities, or seeking his conversion. The remains
of the discomfited Pagan host crossed over into Mercia, and gave no
further trouble. Never was a conquest attended with happier results.
Guthrun (with thirty of his principal nobles) was baptized into the
Christian faith, and received the Saxon name of Athelstan. But East
Anglia became a Danish kingdom. The Danes were not expelled from
England. Their settlement was permanent. The treaty of Wedmore
confirmed them in their possessions. Alfred by this treaty was
acknowledged as undisputed master of England south of the Thames;
of Wessex and Essex, including London, Hertford, and St. Albans; of
the whole of Mercia west of Watling Street,--the great road from
London to Chester; but the Danes retained also one half of England,
which shows how formidable they were, even in defeat. The Danes and
the Saxons, it would seem, commingled, and gradually became one
nation.
The great Danish invasion of the ninth century was successful, since it
gave half of England to the Pagans. It is a sad thing to contemplate.
Civilization was doubtless retarded. Whole districts were depopulated,
and monasteries and churches were ruthlessly destroyed, with their
libraries and works of art. This could not have happened without a
fearful demoralization among the Saxons themselves. They had become
prosperous, and their
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