Of Alfred’s life of study and devotion we have a pleasant picture in Asser’s Biography. Asser, afterwards Bishop of Sherborne, was a monk of St. David’s whom Alfred persuaded to come to Winchester, and to enter his service as scribe and literary helpmate. Asser tells us that “it was his usual custom both by night and day, amid his numerous occupations of mind and body, either himself to read books or to listen while others read them.” The roll of Alfred’s literary productions is a long one—Orosius, the Consolations of Boethius, the Pastoral Care of Pope Gregory, and Bede’s History of the English Church were all rendered into the vernacular. More important still was the English Chronicle, of which no less an authority than Professor Freeman says, “It is the book we should learn to reverence next after our Bible.” It is a treasure-house of contemporary record, systematically kept and reliable, such as no other nation, save the Hebrews, has ever possessed. In all probability the
AT ITCHEN ABBAS
A village on the Itchen, five miles above Winchester, surrounded everywhere by picturesque scenery. The ‘Gospel Oak’ in Avington Park, is some mile or so distant. Kingsley wrote part of his Water-Babies while staying at the Plough Inn at Itchen Abbas in the course of a fishing holiday. Big trout may often be seen lying under the bridge here.
original was compiled and kept at Wolvesey, and copies were made for use at various other places, as Canterbury, Hereford, Peterborough. Six ancient copies are extant, of which four are in the British Museum. One of the two others is an actual Winchester copy of extreme antiquity, and is preserved in the Parker Collection of MSS. at Corpus Christi College, Cambridge.
Alfred’s last years were devoted to founding religious houses—one at Shaftesbury, one at Athelney, and one, which concerns us most immediately, at Winchester, the ‘Newan Mynstre,’ and his queen, Alswitha, founded a nunnery at Winchester also—‘Nunna Mynstre’ or St. Mary’s Abbey.
Alfred matured his plans for the Newan Mynstre in conjunction with Grimbald of Flanders, whom he invited over to England, and whom he induced to remain by making him the first abbot. But he only lived to acquire the site, for which, it is said, he paid the enormous rate of a mark of gold per foot. The spot selected was north-west of the present cathedral churchyard, in the angle near St. Laurence’s Church, and the minster was completed by Edward the Elder, King Alfred’s son, who succeeded him. The further history of the Newan Mynstre, its removal and rebuilding as Hyde Abbey, its dissolution and its decay, will be related in due course.
Alfred died in 901, and his remains have been thrice interred—first of all in the ‘Ealden Mynstre,’ the old minster, as the cathedral began then to be called; then at the completion of the Newan Mynstre they were translated thither with solemn pomp and reverence; and again at the reconstruction and removal of the fabric with equal pomp and circumstance to Hyde Abbey. The abbey is now merely a ruined fragment, and every trace of the abbey church has disappeared. The citizens of Winchester, so careful in the main of their treasures of antiquity, have permitted Alfred’s resting-place to be lost sight of and forgotten altogether, and modern search has not as yet identified the spot. In 1901, the year of the millenary of his death, an attempt was made to atone in some measure for this irreparable neglect, and the boldly conceived statue of Alfred, erected in Winchester Broadway, in front of the spot which his own queen’s abbey had actually occupied, is a reminder, not unworthy so far as outward monument and statuary art can serve, of the hallowed association of Winchester with this, the greatest of all our English monarchs. True is it that little tangible now remains, whether of Wolvesey, Newan Mynstre, or Hyde which we can directly connect with him—but his story, and his work, the inspiration of his life, and his example are things more real and more tangible in their way even than brick or stone or carven figure, and Alfred’s memory can never here be lost, even though his tomb remains lost sight of and slighted, and ‘no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day.’