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THE FIRST PICTURE
King Alfred’s long-ships, newly built for the defence of the realm, attack vessels of the Danish invaders storm-beaten in Swanage Bay. 877.
Painter—C0LIN GILL                        Donor—THE DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE

 

HISTORICAL pictures, if they are really works of art, are not designed to give information on points of fact they are not merely literal illustrations to a prosaic narrative. The present series in particular is intended to go beyond fact, and to symbolize the inner meaning of certain events—to awake us to the greatness and wonder of our growth as a nation, our evolution from a group of tribal states to a world-wide Commonwealth.

Nevertheless, if a picture is to be historical it must be reasonably accurate in all essential matters. In this earliest scene both the facts and the details belong to the dim background of our history, and are not familiarly known. But there is evidence, and it has been carefully used. The ships of the time are accurately represented, even to the lines of construction and the fine lion’s head at the English ship’s prow: the weapons too are authentic, and so are the svastika emblem and the Dane’s raven flag. The account of the fight is given in Asser’s Life of Alfred, in a passage which may have been added or amplified at a later date, perhaps by Roger of Wendover. But according to the best authorities there is no reason to doubt its sincerity and substantial accuracy.

In the year 877, we are told, the Danish invaders were part at Wareham, part in Exeter, where they were besieged; and their losses were continually made good by reinforcements from Denmark. “Then King Alfred commanded boats and galleys, that is, long-ships, to be built throughout the kingdom, in order to offer battle by sea to the enemy as they were coming. He also gave orders to his sailors to prevent them from obtaining any supplies by sea.” No words could more aptly describe the inevitable foundation of our Navy. It was no doubt at first a small and inadequate force, and was fortunate not to be crushed by numbers. The enemy arrived in “a fleet of a hundred and twenty ships full of armed soldiers, who were come to help their countrymen.” The King’s men “leapt to their arms and bravely attacked those barbaric tribes; but the pagans, who had now for almost a month been tossed and all but wrecked among the waves of the sea, fought vainly against them: their bands were discomfited in a moment, and all were sunk in the sea, at a place called Swanage.” This glowing account is justified, so far as the result is concerned:

The blockade was maintained and the reinforcements destroyed. No doubt, as Professor Sir Charles Oman has warned us, “the God of Storms, a good old friend of England on many occasions, was the real author of the Danish naval disaster,” and Mr. Gill has symbolized this by the head of AEolus blowing from above, and by the sweep of the wild geese across the sky. But we need not doubt that a blow was struck too by the first English navy in its first sea-fight.

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