hat they would absolutely subjugate the
Anglo-Saxons was imminent. Ethelwulf gave up the struggle in despair and
died. Ethelred fell in battle. And as the Greeks of old in their terror
cast around for the strongest man they could find to repel the Persian
invaders, and picked on the boy Alexander, so did the Anglo-Saxons turn
to Alfred, the gentle and silent. He was only twenty-three years old. In
build he was slight and slender, but he had given token of his courage
for four years, fighting with his brother. He had qualities that were
closely akin to those of both Alexander and Caesar. He had a cool, clear
and vivid intellect and he had invincible courage. But he surpassed both
of the men just named in that he had a tender, sympathetic heart.

The Danes were overconfident, and had allowed their discipline to relax.
Alfred had at first evidently encouraged them in their idea that they
had won, for he struck feebly and then withdrew his army to the marshes,
where the Danish horsemen could not follow.

The Danes went into winter quarters, fat and feasting. Alfred made a
definite plan for a campaign, drilled his men, prayed with them, and
filled their hearts with the one idea that they were going forth to
certain victory. And to victory they went. They fell upon the Danes with
an impetuosity as unexpected as it was invincible, and before they could
get into their armor, or secure their horses, they were in a rout. Every
timid Engle and Saxon now took heart--it was the Lord's victory--they
were fighting for home--the Danes gave way. This was not all
accomplished quite as easily as I am writing it, but difficulties,
deprivations and disaster only brought out new resources in Alfred. He
was as serenely hopeful as was Washington at Valley Forge, and his
soldiers were just as ragged. He, too, like Thomas Paine, cried, "These
are the times that try men's souls--be grateful for this crisis, for it
will give us opportunity to show that we are men." He had aroused his
people to a pitch where the Danes would have had to kill them all, or
else give way. As they could not kill them they gave way. Napoleon at
twenty-six was master of France and had Italy under his heel, and so was
Alfred at the same age supreme in Southern Britain--including Wessex and
Mercia. He rounded up the enemy, took away their weapons, and then held
a revival-meeting, asking everybody to come forward to the
mourners'-bench. There is no proof that he coerced them