But, when Alfred ascended the throne in 871, the prospect was dark enough; and we can well believe what Asser tells us, confirmed as it seems to be by expressions of Alfred himself in the Boethius, that it was only reluctantly that Alfred undertook the burden laid upon him[460]. The earlier writer embodied in Simeon of Durham says distinctly that Alfred was elected by the chief men of the whole people[461]. Our primary authorities tell us nothing of this[462]; and though their silence is not conclusive[463], a formal election would probably be rendered unnecessary by the arrangement already come to with reference to the succession; while it certainly was no time for coronation festivities or anything of that kind. Even before Æthelred’s death a new force of wikings, ‘a summer army[464]’ as opposed to those who had wintered in the land, invaded the country. Æthelred was interred at Wimborne, where, in Asser’s words, ‘he awaits the coming of the Lord, and the first resurrection with the just[465].’ Even while Alfred was busied with his brother’s exequies, an engagement was being fought in his absence. Ethelwerd alone tells us of this engagement[466]; and at one time I supposed[467] that his account was merely a mistaken version of the battle of Wilton, but I am now convinced that his account is distinct, and that it is not improbable in itself. If I understand him rightly, and he is never very easy to understand, the new force of wikings came to Reading, where they were joined by the Danes who had wintered in the country; and together they defeated an English force, which was in no great numbers, owing to the absence of the king. If this is correct, we have here one of the unnamed ‘folc-gefeoht’ of the Chronicle[468]. But though Ethelwerd calls it a barren victory[469] for the Danes, it seems to have opened to them the heart of Wessex, for the next engagement was fought at Wilton, a month after Æthelred’s death, that is towards the end of May, where another of those enigmatic contests took place, in which the Danes are put to flight, and yet encamp upon the field of battle. Possibly the Danes, whether in real or pretended flight, turned upon their disorderly pursuers and defeated them. This seems to be distinctly suggested by Asser’s narrative[470]. After this, peace was made, probably by purchase, and a respite was well worth paying for. The Danes had suffered scarcely less than the West Saxons[471], and for four whole years they avoided Wessex. The question has been asked: Why did not Burgred of Mercia come to the help of his brothers-in-law in their hour of need, as they had come to help him three years before? Mr. Simcox points out that here too the despised Ingulf[472] supplies the right answer. Burgred was detained by an incursion of the Welsh, acting, no doubt, in concert with the Danes.
The Danes at London. Their exactions. They overrun Mercia.
§ 67. After this peace, the Danes moved from Reading, which had remained their head-quarters, to London, where they spent the winter of 871-2, and forced the Mercians once more to purchase peace. Alfred seems to have kept at any rate an army of observation in the neighbourhood. For a later annal, speaking of the alms sent by Alfred to Rome and India in 883[473], says that this was in fulfilment of a vow made ‘when they encamped against the host at London. And through God’s mercy,’ adds the pious Chronicler, ‘they fully obtained their prayer after that vow.’ Whether these last words refer to an actual defeat inflicted on the Danes by Alfred, or only to his success in keeping them out of Wessex, we cannot tell. In either case the notice illustrates very strikingly the fragmentary nature of even our best authorities. The weight of the exactions which Burgred had to impose to raise the ransom for the Danes, is illustrated by a lease executed this very year (872) of lands belonging to the see of Worcester, which was necessitated ‘owing to the enormous tribute in the year when the heathen sat in London[474].’ The next year the Danes moved northwards and wintered at Torksey, 872-3. The next winter, 873-4, was spent at Repton, and in 874, after destroying that mausoleum of the Mercian kings[475], they overran the whole of Mercia, drove out Burgred, who withdrew to Rome to die; and set up in his place for the present a puppet king in the person of ‘an unwise king’s thane,’ as the Chronicle quaintly calls him, named Ceolwulf, ‘an Englishman by race, but a barbarian in cruelty[476].’ In 875 the Danes divided their forces, and part went to the Tyne and part went to Cambridge. The only event recorded in connexion with the history of Wessex in this year is the defeat, by Alfred in person[477], as it would seem, of a small fleet of seven wiking ships.
The Danes in Wareham. They make a dash for Exeter. Destruction of a Danish fleet. Mercia partitioned.
§ 68. But in 876 the Cambridge division of the Danes managed to slip past the Saxon ‘fyrd,’ and get into Wareham, the ancient importance of which is still attested by the large quadrangular earthworks[478]. We do not know what time of year this was; but apparently the Danes stayed there till the following winter[479]; when Alfred found it expedient to make peace with them, by purchase, according to Ethelwerd; the Danes giving hostages, and swearing their most binding oaths on the sacred temple-ring, ‘on which they would never swear before to any people.’ Yet in spite of this, the negotiations were only a blind on the part of the Danes, and under cover of them they took to their horses, and slipped away by night to Exeter. This seems to have been early in 877. Alfred failed to overtake them before they reached Exeter, and he did not venture to attack them behind their fortifications[480]. But he sat down and blockaded them by land, and, if a later account may be trusted[481], his ships watched the mouth of the Exe. Meanwhile a wiking fleet of 120 sail was making its way west about from East Anglia, no doubt with the view of throwing supplies and reinforcements into Exeter. But off the coast of Swanage they were caught in a violent storm, and in Gaimar’s uncomplimentary language, who rather exaggerates the number of the fleet, ‘140 ships went to the devils[482].’ But for the wreck of these 120 ships the issue of the campaign, perhaps even of the whole war, might have been very different[483]. The motto on a Dutch medal struck to commemorate the ruin of the Armada in 1588 would apply here also: ‘Flauit et dissipati sunt[484].’ ‘Thou didst blow with thy wind, the sea covered them: they sank as lead in the mighty waters[485].’ And so the Danes in Exeter were fain to submit, and swore mighty oaths, which for once they kept, and withdrew to Mercia, which they now partitioned, dividing part of it among themselves, and restoring the remainder to their puppet Ceolwulf. This partition is of some prospective importance as being probably the origin of the distinction between English and Danish Mercia[486].
The campaign of 878. Battle of Ethandun. Submission of the Danes. Defeat of the Danes in North Devon. The Danes retire to East Anglia.
§ 69. Of the sudden swoop of the Danes on Chippenham in January, 878, and Alfred’s retirement to Athelney I have said enough above[487]. It was at Easter, March 23, 878, that Alfred and his little band reared the fort on Athelney. Some seven weeks later, that is to say, about the middle of May, he moved out of it to Brixton Deverill near Warminster. The date of this movement must have been carefully fixed, and widely made known by Alfred’s messengers beforehand. For here he was joined at once by the levies of Somerset, Wilts., and part of Hampshire, ‘and they were fain of him,’ says the Chronicler, in words the more expressive for their extreme simplicity. How effectually the preliminary arrangements had been made, is shown by the fact that the very next day Alfred was able to continue his forward movement to Leigh near Westbury, and the next day to Edington[488]. Here a general engagement was fought with the whole Danish army under Guthrum, which had moved out of Chippenham. The result was a complete victory for Alfred: ‘he put them to flight, and rode after them to their fort, and sat down before it for a fortnight, and then the host (here) gave him leading hostages and swore mighty oaths that they would quit his realm. And they further promised that their king should receive baptism. And so it was performed, and three weeks later [that is, about the end of the first week in June] the king Guthrum, with twenty-nine of those that were worthiest in the host, came to him at Aller near Athelney; and the king received him at baptism, and his chrism-loosing was at Wedmore; and he was twelve nights with the king, and he honoured him much, and feed his followers.’ The ‘fort’ to which Alfred pursued his flying foes was, I think, the Danish lines at Chippenham; and though high authorities, including Professor Earle, take a different view[489], I am glad to see that I am supported by our military historian, Professor Oman[490]. The submission of the Danes would be furthered by a great disaster which befell another body of them earlier in the year. A wiking fleet, which had wintered in South Wales[491], crossed to the opposite coast of Devon; probably intending, after ravaging the southern coast of the Bristol Channel, as they had already ravaged the northern coast, to effect a junction with the Danes at Chippenham. The men of Devon, under their ealdorman Odda, took refuge in a rude fort[492], probably Kenny Castle near Appledore. The Danes, under Ubba, the brother of Halfdene and Ingwar[493], expected an easy victory, but the English, sallying out unexpectedly at early dawn, put their foes to rout, slaying over 800 of them, and driving the rest to their ships[494]. The mystic Raven Banner fell into the hands of the victors. After the ceremony at Wedmore the Danes retired, in accordance with their promise, to Cirencester[495], and the next year, 879, they withdrew altogether to East Anglia; while a body of wikings, which had gathered at Fulham, crossed to the Continent. It would seem that, whether by formal compact or no[496], not only Wessex and its dependencies but English Mercia west of Watling Street was cleared of the invader.
Results of the battle of Ethandun.
§ 70. I have said elsewhere that Alfred holds in real history the place which romance assigns to Arthur[497]; and certainly, after this mid-May victory of Alfred at Edington, his followers might well have sung the song which our late Laureate places in the mouths of Arthur’s men[498]:—
‘Blow trumpet, for the world is white with May;