One picturesque phrase Huntingdon has, where, describing the sudden swoop of the Danes on Chippenham in January, 878, he says that ‘they covered the land like locusts[283].’
Simeon of Durham. Legend of St. Cuthbert.
§ 48. Of the double recension of the annals of this reign in Simeon of Durham I have spoken above. In the second one, which is Simeon’s own, there is very little which is not derived from Florence, Asser, and the Chronicle, except a few notices of northern affairs, taken mainly from his own history of the Church of Durham. The earlier recension also adds little to our authorities, except the writer’s own rhetoric, of which the following specimen from the opening of the battle of Ethandun may suffice[284]:—‘When the most limpid ray of the sun arose, the king and all the glory of his people put on their warlike adornments, that is to say, the threefold breastplate of faith, hope, and love of God. They, rising from the ground, boldly challenged the caitifs[285] to the fight, trusting in the clemency of the Creator, secure and fortified as with a rampart by the presence of their king, whose countenance shone like that of a resplendent angel,’ with more to the same purpose—or want of purpose. In these northern accounts St. Cuthbert plays very much the part which St. Neot plays in southern legend, appearing to Alfred in his distress, and promising him victory[286], a trait adopted also by William of Malmesbury[287]. And with this stream of legend Mr. Freeman[288] ingeniously connects the dedication of the parish church[289] of Wells to St. Cuthbert, a very unusual dedication for a south-country church. Moreover, some of these northern accounts prolong the retreat of Alfred in the marshes of Somerset from three months to three years[290]. We are fast entering the world of legend.
William of Malmesbury.
William of Malmesbury uses both Asser and the Chronicle, though he declines ‘to unravel separately the inextricable labyrinths of Alfred’s labours.’ He adds not only the legend of St. Cuthbert, but also the stories of the golden bracelets, and of Alfred visiting the Danish camp disguised as a minstrel[291]; wandering folk-tales which get attached to more than one historical character. There is no reason to believe that Malmesbury had for Alfred’s reign any historical authority not open to ourselves, as he unquestionably had for that of Athelstan; unless, indeed, he had seen Alfred’s Handbook, of which I shall have more to say later on[292]. He has, however, some very interesting remarks on Alfred’s literary works[293].
Knowledge of early English History declines.
§ 49. After William of Malmesbury men ceased to consult, indeed were unable to consult, the authentic sources of English history[294], and there is nothing to check the growth of legend. We get into a world where cakes are freely burnt, where Alfred is sent to Ireland to be cured (Irish fashion) of an incurable disease by St. Modwenna[295], where he invents tithings, hundreds and shires[296], translates into Saxon the Martian law, originally drawn up by Martia, a wise British queen[297]. Here, too, Alfred rules as monarch of all Britain[298], appoints ‘custodes regni[299],’ yet is considerate enough to abstain from all interference with the Church[300]. Here he founds[301], or better still, reforms, the University of Oxford, to which he sends his son Æthelweard[302], and to which, by an improvement on Asser’s scheme, he devotes a fixed proportion of his revenues[303]. His supreme effort in his mythical realm is marked by the invention of trial by jury[304], and the hanging of forty-four judges in one year for unjust judgements[305]. I think it must be admitted that these achievements were highly creditable to one who, in the same mythical realm, had shown in his early years such licentiousness and tyranny[306].
Origin of some of the myths.
§ 50. In some cases we can trace how the later myth arose; and this furnishes us with an instructive warning as to the danger of listening to the unsupported statements of later chroniclers, as many modern writers are half inclined to do.
Simeon of Durham.