England is old. The history of its foundation remains shrouded in mystery and the allure of myth. Undeniably the date 1066 looms largest in the popular imagination; the Norman Conquest marks the beginning of monarchical and aristocratic institutions that still exist today. The Cambridge professor David Woodman argues in his new book that it may speak to the spirit of the English that they focus more on their country’s subjugation than its formation. He claims that the tenth-century king Æthelstan (d. 939) is the man responsible for this state formation and is the most worthy of being titled the first king of England.
Woodman bemoans the fact that Æthelstan is so little present in the national consciousness, but he points out that this has as much to do with Æthelstan’s famous grandfather, Alfred the Great (848–99), as it does with the Normans a century later. The year 1066 is the date that every schoolchild in England knows, but there was a time when the story of Alfred burning the peasant woman’s cakes could be recited just as easily.
In the ninth century, Britain was a collection of kingdoms vying for stability and power. The Anglo-Saxon kingdoms of Wessex, Mercia, Northumbria, and East Anglia had all experienced extensive raiding and settlement by Norsemen. East Anglia was the first to be swallowed up by the invaders, followed by the southern part of Northumbria and then finally Mercia, leaving Alfred’s Wessex as the last free Anglo-Saxon kingdom. In 878, Alfred was pushed deep into his own territory by the Great Heathen Army. His eternal fame comes from the battle he won at Edington later the same year, beating the Norse army and forcing them to terms. As a mature ruler, he gained control of Mercia, promoted Latin literacy and learning in his realm, and left behind a stable kingdom for his son Edward the Elder (d. 924) to inherit. Woodman opens his narrative with Alfred the Great not only because the kingdom he created, which was then expanded by his son Edward, set the stage for Æthelstan’s reign, but also because in telling Alfred’s story, Woodman can expertly craft an image of the British Isles in the long tenth century.
Æthelstan inherited the kingdoms of Wessex and Mercia as well as most of a reclaimed East Anglia. The existential threat to Alfred’s early reign had dissipated; Æthelstan had many of the same challenges as Alfred did—Vikings, myriad Welsh and Cornish kingdoms to the west, and a range of Celtic kingdoms in the north—but he also had the power and means for a far greater ambition.
There is little known about Æthelstan’s private life, including his date of birth. He ascended to the throne in 925 around the age of thirty. He spent at least a sizable portion of his childhood in Mercia, the kingdom of his aunt Æthelflæd. When he rose to the throne, the only remaining Anglo-Saxon kingdom not under Æthelstan’s control was Northumbria, which was ruled by the Norse king Sihtric (d. 927). A marriage was quickly struck between Sihtric and Æthelstan’s sister. When Sihtric died in 927, only a year after the marriage, Æthelstan annexed his territories, bringing the last Anglo-Saxon kingdom under the rule of one man. Later the same year, Æthelstan’s supremacy over the whole island of Britain was recognized by Welsh, Scottish, and Northumbrian kings.
Despite the lack of exact detail in the sequence of events, Woodman is clear that “whatever the circumstances in which Northumbria was added to Æthelstan’s domain, this was the year that ‘England’ as a recognizable geographical and political form was born.” A kingdom, more or less in the familiar shape of modern England, with Old English as the main language, and with a religion that had regionally distinct forms but was recognizably the same, was formed under a single ruler.
The broad strokes of this “English” kingdom are easy to understand, but the value of Woodman’s work is in how he expounds upon the unifying “political form” that was born under Æthelstan. Historians of the period are largely reliant on two primary sources: Æthelstan’s “diplomas” (charters) and his law codes. The diplomas give an idea of the range of Æthelstan’s power and movements, providing evidence of the land he controlled, of his location at the time of their writing, and of the powerful men of the kingdom who were brought to witness them.
The traditional West Saxon organizational system of shires slowly spread to the other kingdoms, starting the process of bringing the whole kingdom under one administrative system—although this was not completed until Æthelstan’s successor, Edgar the Peaceable (943–75). Æthelstan also began standardizing coinage and bringing all mints under his control. Woodman’s insight here is immense, and he illustrates a complex centralized government that verges on an early form of the nation-state. This is further exemplified by Æthelstan’s consistent interactions with the British kings who were subordinate to him, as well as with his neighbors on the Continent with whom he had strong ties through marriage.
A last challenge to Æthelstan’s power came in 937, when an alliance between the Norse King Óláf Guthfrithson of Dublin, the Scottish king Constantine II, and Owain of Strathclyde marched against Æthelstan. The ensuing battle of Brunanburh was remembered for its brutality and the unprecedented death toll, but Æthelstan came out the victor, keeping his newly made kingdom intact.
He only lived a few more years after the battle, but his legacy was ensured. Æthelstan was remembered for his piety, and through his conquest and governance, set the benchmark for what England became and how it has come to be ruled. Woodman knows how to mine the thin and paltry source material for its worthwhile metals, giving us an informative biography of an elusive king.
