In the Shadow of Alfred the Great
See you the windy levels spread
About the gates of Rye?
O that was where the Northmen fled,
When Alfred’s ships came by.
-Rudyard Kipling, from “Puck’s Song”
“The high tide!” King Alfred cried.
“The high tide and the turn!“
-G.K. Chesterton, from The Ballad of the White Horse
The praises of Alfred the Great have been sung by hosts of poets and historians even apart from Rudyard Kipling and G.K. Chesterton, the latter of whom wrote an entire book-length epic poem in veneration of the great warrior king of the Anglo-Saxons. As to Anglo-Saxon kings, others might come to mind in addition to Alfred, especially the two who became saints, Edmund the Martyr and Edward the Confessor, both of whom were hallowed as patron saints of England until its patronage passed to St. George at the time of the crusades.
Few, however, will remember Athelstan, Alfred’s grandson, who is neither lionized by the poets nor canonized by the Church. As we shall see, he is a warrior king who is perhaps equal in greatness to Alfred and possibly rivals Edmund and Edward in piety.
Athelstan was born in the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Wessex around A.D. 894. Five years later upon the death of his grandfather, his father, known to history as Edward the Elder, became king. Edward would rule for 25 years, laying solid political foundations for the kingdom his son would inherit in 924.
Edward is himself largely unsung in terms of historical recognition and has been described by contemporary British historian Nick Higham as “perhaps the most neglected of English kings.” The medieval chronicler William of Malmesbury judged that Edward the Elder was “much inferior to his father in the cultivation of letters” but “incomparably more glorious in the power of his rule.”
If we take William of Malmesbury’s judgment seriously, we might be tempted to proclaim Edward the Elder as an unsung hero of Christendom, but such a temptation would be a little premature. Unsung hero of England he might be, but he showed no great inclination to promote Christian civilization nor to support the presence of the Church. As William of Malmesbury confessed, he was “much inferior” to Alfred in terms of learning and culture, and contemporary British historian Alan Thacker wrote that Edward “gave little to the church indeed…Judging by the dearth of charters for much of his reign he seems to have given away little at all…More than any other, Edward’s kingship seems to epitomise the new hard-nosed monarchy of Wessex, determined to exploit all its resources, lay and ecclesiastical, for its own benefit.” Clearly this “hard-nosed” king was no hero of Christendom.
Unlike his father, Athelstan was particularly pious, defending the Faith as vigorously as he defended his kingdom. In terms of politics, he would become more powerful than either his father or grandfather, building on the solid foundations they’d laid. Whereas Alfred was the first King of the Anglo-Saxons, having united the various Anglo-Saxon kingdoms in the south of the country, Athelstan would become the first King of the English, following his 927 conquest of York, the last remaining Viking kingdom in England.
It is, therefore, to Athelstan’s reign that we can date the birth of the political entity which we now know as England, prior to which the country had been divided between various Anglo-Saxon regional kingdoms that were Christian and the parts of the country under Viking (pagan) domination.
However, even attributing the foundation of the English nation to Athelstan would not, in itself, make him a hero of Christendom. His heroic status in this respect rests on his piety and his practical efforts to promote Christianity during his reign. One of the most pious of all the Anglo-Saxon kings, he collected relics, founded churches, promoted learning, and laid the foundation for the Benedictine monastic reform that came later in the century.
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