These are the obvious meanings of such a symbolical device, and this being so, it plainly results that the Figure and its back-plate are united by correlation of thought. The enamelled Figure is the symbol of religion in its ecclesiastical and political aspect; the engraved plate represents the inward disposition of the heart, the root and fount of personal religion. The former is of the nature of a public profession, and as such is openly displayed to view; the latter is reserved, out of sight, facing the wall.
III
A Constructive Inference
And this raises a consideration to which I invite careful attention. These two pictures, the one enamelled, the other engraved, are complementary the one to the other; they are two parts of one design, and as such they combine to declare the unity of thought which locks together the composition and fabric of this Jewel into one constructive whole. And this observation, once verified and clearly apprehended, must henceforth exclude the theory of Sir Francis Palgrave which explained this Jewel as being derived from two diverse sources in the following manner:—
‘Alfred’s Jewel, in the mechanical workmanship of the metallic portion, offers a close resemblance to the Icelandic ornaments, now made in the island, where the mode has probably continued by usage from the most remote periods. The enamel within, on the other hand, resembles some ornaments of the Carlovingian era now existing on the continent, which have been generally considered as Oriental. The head at the extremity of the ornament is extremely like what is found in those architectural ornaments usually called Saxon, e. g. the porch of St. Margaret’s at York. Whether St. Neot be the personage represented in the enamel I rather doubt; and I think it possible that the enamel itself was brought from the continent, and that the setting only was made in England. This would reconcile the two styles of workmanship; the metallic portion is unquestionably Anglo-Saxon, the enamel may be supposed to be from another country. But altogether it is one of the most curious relics of the kind; and no one, taking all the points of evidence together, can reasonably doubt but that it did belong to king Alfred.’
This is copied from the Ashmolean Catalogue, 1836 (p. 138), the work of Mr. Philip Duncan, or rather perhaps of the two brothers, John and Philip Duncan, both Fellows of New College, and successively Keepers of the Ashmolean Museum, men famous in their generation for their zeal in promoting all that was good and generous and beautiful; and graced, both of them, with a strong and manly beauty worthy to support the nobility of their character and set it forth to the best advantage.
I take the above to be an extract from a letter to one of the brothers in answer to enquiries addressed to Sir Francis Palgrave, asking his opinion about the Jewel, and especially whether he thought the evidence warranted the conclusion that it had really belonged to the great king of Wessex. The answer has a peculiar value, because of the firm judgement it supplies upon the main problem. The deliberate opinion of the most competent authority of the time upon this point is of permanent value. Of a different nature is the other part of his answer, in which he embarked upon a bold antiquarian diagnosis, and broached his dualistic theory. This solution was accepted at the time as furnishing a solid basis for the interpretation of the Jewel, and it has held its ground ever since.
This new hypothesis gave satisfaction on three grounds: first, in that it accounted for the quaintness of the Figure as being probably Byzantine or Oriental; secondly, in that it lightened the burden of credit demanded for our insular jewellers of the ninth century; and thirdly, because it squared so well with the accredited fact that Alfred did receive presents from foreign potentates. On all these grounds the dual hypothesis of Sir Francis Palgrave gave general satisfaction and seemed to be absolutely final.
For myself, I adopted it as the pivot of my interpretation, and as such I used it in the last lecture I gave on the subject, which was in May, 1899. But now at length, by the wider and more searching investigation which has been required in the preparation of this Essay, I have satisfied myself that all the parts of this composite work are bound together by a unity of thought which manifests the effort of a single mind.
All available testimony indicates that this was none other than the mind of king Alfred. In support of this broad assertion I will here bring forward a new illustration from the original writings of the king. When he had translated the Pastoral Care he furnished it with a prologue and an epilogue, both in verse: the prologue is given above, in the second of these chapters; the epilogue is quoted here. It illustrates his love of figure and symbol, and his aptness for the development of a train of allegorical thought:
Ðis is nu se wæterscipe