Remembering the Battle of Bunker Hill, 250 Years Ago—June 17, 1775

our hundred patriots dead,” announced John Adams, delegate from Massachusetts as he rose from his seat amidst the interminable rhetoric of the Second Continental Congress, reading aloud to his fellow delegates a devastating note he had just received from his wife. It bore news of the Battle of Bunker Hill. “Four hundred patriots dead! Not professional soldiers, ordinary citizens of Massachusetts who willingly gave their lives to defend what was rightfully theirs. Their liberty.”

A contemporary painting of the Battle of Bunker Hill by artist Winthrop Chandler (1747–1790)

So much had lead up to this. The unfolding story of our nation’s birth is well known to us all, how in previous years the levied taxations and the responding protests had bloomed into secret committees, written remonstrances and whispered talk of an irrevocable independence from the mother country. In March of 1775 the Virginian orator Patrick Henry had addressed the House of Burgesses with fire and brimstone calling for liberty or death. In April there had been shots fired between the British Regulars and colonial militia over the attempted seizure of powder and arms at Lexington and Concord. Boston had been put under martial law for its unrest, and kept from receiving provisions from its fellow colonies. In May of 1775 a Second Continental congress met in Philadelphia—an illegal assemblage itself with its delegates viewed by the Crown as unauthorized and treasonous.

The Battles of Lexington and Concord, April 19, 1775

Men of the Second Continental Congress voting to declare independence from Britain

By the time this Second Continental Congress met, the point of no return had been reached, although not all attending delegates were aware of this. Delegate Benjamin Franklin—who saw himself as the great intermediary between Britain and America due to his previous experience as such—had spent the previous year in London trying to make peace. In particular, he presented a petition to the Privy Council to have the unpopular Governor Hutchinson of Massachusetts removed. Back then he still believed in a negotiated compromise, but he got no thanks for his pains as his petition coincided with the Boston Tea Party and the inflaming of English opinion toward the colonies. Franklin was accused, to his astonishment, of being ‘the leader of disaffection,’ and a rebel ‘possessed with the idea of a great American republic.’ Having his pleas thus repulsed, Franklin came home and joined this second Congress, noting that “the Unanimity is amazing.” But that was unanimity for resistance; only a minority yet thought in terms of outright independence.

Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790)

‘The Boston Tea Party’, December 16, 1773

On the far extreme of moderation at the Congress was John Dickinson of Pennsylvania, and his proposed direct appeal to King George. He begged his fellows to give Britain yet another “last chance” and drafted what became known as the Olive Branch Petition. Even former fellow moderates thought this measure pointless. John Adams—with characteristic bitterness born of watching first-hand the rapacious treatment of his colony—dismissed it as a groveling attempt to put off the inevitable contest, espousing instead that “powder and artillery are the most efficacious, sure and infallible conciliatory measures we can adopt.” Adams, Franklin, Jefferson, and Washington met together often to create various committees tasked with providing the infrastructure for an independent government, so as not to be caught completely unprepared by the time their fellow delegates might agree to a permanent break with Great Britain. Franklin himself saw to the printing of currency, the manufacturing of gunpowder, and the designing of an independent postal system. He even drew up Articles of Confederation and Perpetual Union. By early June, George Washington had offered to raise a thousand men in his home colony of Virginia, arm and supply them at his own expense, and march them to the relief of Massachusetts. A Continental Army was subsequently established by Congress, with Washington appointed its commander—to the dire alarm of those still clinging to any hope of success from the Olive Branch Petition.

George Washington (1732-1799)

The signature page of the Olive Branch Petition—the signatures of John Hancock, Thomas Jefferson and others are prominent

No matter how much pacifying speechmaking was employed in distant Philadelphia, the situation in New England only grew more perilous with each passing day. Since April, when the open hostilities had begun at Lexington and Concord, bands of colonial militiamen whose numbers were quickly growing began to resemble an army—an American one. Over 15,000 strong and the first of its kind, they had surrounded General Thomas Gage and his garrison of British regulars in Boston, effectively placing the main portion of the town under siege, and taking up various topographically favored positions around the harbor. Two of these spots were nearby Breed’s Hill and Bunker’s Hill, situated on the Charlestown Peninsula, a section of what is now greater Boston. Coinciding with Congress’ diplomatic strivings in the stuffy Pennsylvania State Hall, this American army and its rag-tag soldiers set themselves to hold the line against the army of occupation. Under their watch no further incursions would be made into the interior to seize arms or impose the housing of soldiers on the citizenry. Called hastily from their farms and vocations, lacking organization and military advantages, these were intelligent and independent-minded men nonetheless, capable of turning their mind to anything. They were experts at guns and shovels, if not tactics.

Thomas Gage (1718-1787)

The lay of the land and troop movements in Boston during the Battle of Bunker Hill, as engraved by Jeffrys & Faden, London, August 1, 1775

On the evening of June 16, 1775 about 800 Massachusetts and 200 Connecticut troops, under the command of Col. William Prescott of Massachusetts, were detached to carry out the project of fortifying these hills on the Charleston Peninsula. By some error never explained, Prescott fortified Breed’s Hill, which, though nearer Boston than Bunker’s, was not only lower, but could more easily be surrounded by the British. Prescott and his men had completed digging one redoubt by the time they were discovered by the British at daybreak on the 17th. “We worked there undiscovered till about five in the morning,” wrote 22-year-old Peter Brown, “then we saw our danger, being against ships of the line, and all Boston fortified against us.” Despite a hellish cannonade from British men-of-war in the harbor and from a battery on Copp’s Hill in north Boston, the colonists were able to further strengthen their position during the morning by building a breastwork about 100 yards long, running northward down the slope of the hill toward the Mystic River.

Townspeople watching the Battle of Bunker Hill from rooftops on Copp’s Hill

On learning that the New Englanders had entrenched themselves on the Charleston Peninsula with intent to drive him out of Boston, General Gage sent over a detachment of some 2,300 troops under Maj. Gen. William Howe to dislodge or capture the colonists. The British landed on the peninsula without opposition, under protection of British artillery fire, their threat divided into two wings in an attempt to make a flanking maneuver. Howe’s advance, which he led in person, made it up to the base of Breed’s Hill before the previous unbroken stillness was shattered by a deadly volley from a body of Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts troops who had posted themselves behind a rail fence hastily stuffed with grass, hay, and brush. There they had pluckily held their fire until the British were very near, so as not to waste a shot. There the patriots repulsed the advance of the British regulars and sent them reeling into confusion, picking off their officers with savage aim and shattering their discipline. Howe gathered his men and led them on a second and third advance, his flanking movement managing to overwhelm the main redoubt and force the rebel defenders to begin a retreat. “We did as before—reserved our fire until they came within about six or seven rods, then we showed them yankee play and drove them back again. But soon they renewed the attack and came again. But we, being destitute of ammunition, made use of ammunition called cobble stones”, recounted thirteen-year-old Isaac Glynney.

William Howe (1729-1814) in full dress uniform

“The Battle of Bunker Hill” by renowned American artist, Howard Pyle

The militia’s retreat was covered by New England reinforcements, spurred to the front by Gen. Israel Putnam of Connecticut. The resultant casualties, particularly for the British, were extremely heavy in proportion to the number of troops engaged. About 450 Americans were killed, wounded, or captured. The number of British killed or wounded totaled a shocking 1,054, including 89 officers.

A stone marker which reads: ‘In memory of New Hampshire soldiers who fell at Bunker Hill buried in this town and interred in this spot 1849’

Among the Americans who were killed was Gen. Joseph Warren of Massachusetts, a physician and delegate to the First Congress who had entered the redoubt as a volunteer. His death was gravely lamented in Congress by John Adams, who read to his fellow delegates the details of this sacrifice that his wife Abigail had put down thus:

“The Day; perhaps the decisive Day is come on which the fate of America depends. My bursting Heart must find vent at my pen. I have just heard that our dear Friend Dr. Warren is no more but fell gloriously fighting for his Country—saying better to die honourably in the field than ignominiously hang upon the Gallows. Great is our Loss. He has distinguished himself in every engagement, by his courage and fortitude, by animating the Soldiers and leading them on by his own example. . . . Charlstown is laid in ashes. The Battle began upon our [e]ntrenchments upon Bunkers Hill, a Saturday morning about 3 o clock and has not ceased yet and tis now 3 o’clock Sabbeth afternoon. Tis expected they will come out over the Neck tonight, and a dreadful Battle must ensue. Almighty God cover the heads of our Country men, and be a shield to our Dear Friends. How [many ha]ve fallen we know not—the constant roar of the cannon is so [distre]ssing that we can not Eat, Drink or Sleep. May we be supported and sustaind in the dreadful conflict.”

Joseph Warren (1741-1775)

‘The Death of General Warren at the Battle of Bunker’s Hill, June 17, 1775’, by exceptional American painter of the day, John Trumbull

The agitation of such horrific events unfolding did not deter Abigail Adams from taking her eldest son, our future sixth president John Quincy, up to the high ground of the family farm to watch the awful display of British warships turning into a raging inferno the Americans’ resolute defense. There she told him he was witnessing history. John Quincy Adams later wrote his recollections down in 1846:

“The year 1775 was the eighth year of my age. Among the first fruits of the War, was the expulsion of my father’s family from their peaceful abode in Boston, to take refuge in his native town of Braintree. . . . I saw with my own eyes the fires of Charlestown, and heard Britannia’s thunders in the Battle of Bunker’s hill and witnessed the tears of my mother and mingled with them my own, at the fall of Warren a dear friend of my father, and a beloved Physician to me. He had been our family physician and surgeon, and had saved my fore finger from amputation under a very bad fracture. . .”

Grave of Dr. Joseph Warren and various members of his family

Warren offering to serve General Israel Putnam as a private before the Battle of Bunker Hill

If the British had followed the taking of the Charlestown Peninsula by seizing nearby Dorchester Heights, as Abigail Adams had feared, their victory at Bunker Hill might have been worth the heavy cost exacted of them. Yet they did not, presumably because of their heavy losses and the fighting spirit displayed by the militiamen. Citing the original pyrrhic victory of Epirus against the Romans, General Howe declared that with one more such victory, they would lose the war. The British commanders abandoned or indefinitely postponed their plan to drive the rebels out. Consequently, when Gen. George Washington (who took command of the Colonial Army two weeks later) had collected enough heavy guns and ammunition to threaten Boston, he was able, in March 1776, to seize and fortify Dorchester Heights without opposition and to compel the British to evacuate the town and harbor.

The view of Boston from Dorchester Heights

One month after witnessing the Battle of Lexington, a certain Rev. Samuel Langdon, then President of Harvard, had preached to the leading citizenry of Massachusetts an Election Sermon entitled ‘Government Corrupted By Vice and Recovered by Righteousness’. He said that:

“Vice will increase with the riches and glory of an empire; and this generally tends to corrupt the Constitution and in time bring on its dissolution. This may be considered not only as the natural effect of vice, but a religious judgement from Heaven, especially upon a nation which has been favored with the blessings of religion and liberty and is guilty of undervaluing them. . .”

Drum used by John Robbins at the Battle of Bunker Hill, c. 1770

Langdon had gone on to call for repentance, as well as action in faith that God had heard them, and urged them to set up new leaders in the name of the sovereign Lord. Langdon had then personally led the men of his congregation to the heights of Bunker Hill to begin their entrenchments and resist the attack of their mighty foe.

Rev. Langdon recorded in his journal the following:

“June 20, 1775—This has been one of the most important and trying days of my life. . . . Ever since the battle of Bunker Hill my mind has been turned to this subject. God’s servants are needed in the army to pray with it and for it.

This is God’s work; and his ministers should set an example that will convince the people that they believe it to be such. But the scene in the house of God today has tried me sorely. How silent, how solemn, was the congregation and when they sang the sixty-first Psalm, commencing ‘When overwhelm’d with grief, My heart within me dies. . .’ Sobs were heard in every part of the building. At the close, I was astonished to see Deacon S., now nearly sixty years of age, arise and address the congregation. ‘Brethren,’ said he, ‘our minister has acted right. This is God’s cause; and as in days of old the priests bore the ark into the midst of the battle, so must they do it now. We should be unworthy of the fathers and mothers who landed on Plymouth Rock, if we do not cheerfully bear what Providence shall put upon us in the great conflict now before us. I had two sons at Bunker Hill, and one of them, you know, was slain. The other did his duty, and for the future God must do with him what seemeth Him best. I offer my son to liberty. I had thought that I would stay here with the church. But my minister is going, and I will shoulder my musket and go, too.’ In this strain he continued for some time, till the whole congregation was bathed in tears. Oh God must be with this people in the unequal struggle, or else how could they enter upon it with such solemnity and prayer, with such strong reliance on his assistance, and such a profound sense of their need of it? Just before separating, the whole congregation joined in singing ‘O God our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come’.”

Similar to the tale of Rev. Langdon, Rev. Peter Muhlenberg famously preached a sermon stirring his congregation up for the fight, then removed his clerical robes with a flourish to reveal his uniform beneath—the Black Robe Regiment was born

Such was the cost of Bunker Hill, such its legacy far beyond strategy or statistics. It was fought by farmers and preachers, men with families to defend, and included the first instance of freed black militiamen fighting in the national struggle. It was indeed an American struggle, one never to be forgot.

The Bunker Hill Monument, a 221-foot granite obelisk, marks the site on Breed’s Hill where most of the fighting took place

Image Credits: 1 Battle of Bunker Hill (wikipedia.org) 2 Battles of Lexington and Concord (wikipedia.org) 3 Second Continental Congress (wikipedia.org) 4 Benjamin Franklin (wikipedia.org) 5 Boston Tea Party (wikipedia.org) 6 George Washington (wikipedia.org) 7 Olive Branch Petition (wikipedia.org) 8 Thomas Gage (wikipedia.org) 9 Battle Map (wikipedia.org) 10 View from Copp’s Hill (wikipedia.org) 11 William Howe (wikipedia.org) 12 Bunker Hill by Pyle (wikipedia.org) 13 Stone Marker (wikipedia.org) 14 Joseph Warren (wikipedia.org) 15 The Death of General Warren (wikipedia.org) 16 Grave of Warren (wikipedia.org) 17 Warren and Putnam (wikipedia.org) 18 Dorchester Heights (wikipedia.org) 19 Drum (wikipedia.org) 20 Rev. Muhlenberg (explorepahistory.com) 21 Bunker Hill Monument (wikipedia.org)

The Legacy of St. Columba, Gone to Glory, June 9, 597

hen taking stock of those influences considered most responsible for the creation of what is now the modern West, there are many who would credit Scotland as the chief incubator for such progress. With its life-altering contributions in areas of science, philosophy, literature, medicine, commerce, politics, and more, that small nation has shaped and nurtured—in a way vastly disproportionate to its size and assumed influence—most of what we now hold as chief advances in the civilized world.

The wild and rugged landscape of Scotland reflects her people well

From the tradition of drafting declarations of independence, to their staunch refusal to allow the civil sphere to infringe upon that of the religious, to their radically innovative economic theories and medical discoveries over the many ages, Scotland and her famed inhabitants—stubborn, practical and averse to being told what can or can’t be done—have left their cultural heirs a legacy of intrepid vision. None of this great contribution to mankind would have materialized were it not for the first fearless missionary who came to Scotland’s barbarous shores and claimed its inhabitants for Christ. This fearless carrier of good news was named Crimthan, or as he was later called by his Scottish converts, Columba, meaning Dove of the Church. By his molding of Scotland’s wild and discordant people to the influence of the Gospel, the nation was transformed into a beacon of Christendom for centuries after.

Columba (521-597), as portrayed in a stained glass window in Iona Abbey

Columba converting King Brude of the Picts to Christianity

Columba himself came from across the sea, an Irishman by birth and rearing, and descended from those whom St. Patrick had converted a century prior. He was born around 521 into royalty and could have become one of the High Kings of Ireland if he chose. But Columba gave up his crown and prestige in order to pursue his greatest love: all things ecclesiastical and scholarly. Educated in the bardic traditions of his ancestors by his father and then (under Bishop Finnian of Clonard) in the newer tradition of Christian learning, Columba became an accomplished scholar and journeyed in his youth as far as modern day France. There he made note of the Roman Catholic monastic systems that were finding favor on the continent, not only with bishops who feared the movement of independent, wild-eyed proselytizers, but also with the average man who wished to escape the increasing uncertainties of an age of great upheaval by living the simple life of a monk.

Location of Gartan Lough in County Donegal, Ireland

Garton Lough, County Donegal, Ireland—the region where Columba was born

Upon returning home from this trip, the energetic Columba adopted a combined methodology in his own practice, embracing the Irish persuasion to Christianity that did not adhere to papal authority, alongside the continent’s ordered church infrastructure. He began founding monasteries in Ireland at will, at places such as Durrow, Kells, and many others, some of which still remain to this day. So aggressive was his energy for this work that by the time he reached the age of forty-one, there were forty-one Irish churches that could claim him as their royal patron.

The ruins of Eaglais na h-Aoidhe/St Columba’s Church at Uidh, Stornoway, Outer Hebrides, Scotland—one of the dozens of ancient churches named after Columba

But then, at this high point of success and zeal, things took a downward turn for his fortunes; a turn, however, that would be the means of grace for the thousands of lost souls just across the Irish Sea in neighboring Scotland. Columba had a falling out with one of his old mentors regarding an illuminated psalter that Columba had copied while a guest in the man’s house. There were harsh accusations exchanged, with the evidence even brought before High King Diarmait for sentencing in the matter, and Ireland’s first recorded copyright case went down in history with the judgement of “to every cow her calf, to every book its copy”.

Finnian of Movilla (495–589), mentor of Columba and owner of the controversial psalter now known as the Cathach (meaning “Battler”) of Columba

A page from the Cathach of Columba, a late 6th century psalter which is the oldest surviving manuscript in Ireland, and the second oldest Latin psalter in the world

Still retaining that fiery temper which was notable among the Irish people despite all the supposed gentling influences of the Holy Spirit in his life, Columba did not accept this judicial defeat meekly and instead went with his clan into battle with his mentor. When we pass through the remote beauty of county Sligo on Landmark Events’ tour of Ireland, we pass the striking flat top mountain Benbulben where, according to legend, this battle transpired. There beneath its towering ledge, the two armies clashed and while Columba’s side won, the conflict cost the lives of three thousand and one of his fellow countrymen. The contested psalter was amongst the spoils of victory, but the punishment Columba incurred for having created such discord was permanent exile. He was allowed to choose his place of banishment so long as it was out of sight of Irish dominions. He chose to remove himself to the tiny and idyllic island of Iona, nestled in the Scottish Hebrides.

The elaborate Cumdach (ornate carrying box of holy books) of the Cathach of Columba—this relic became a treasured artifact, often carried into battle for protection of the bearers and is now in the National Museum of Ireland while the manuscript is housed in the Royal Irish Academy, both in Dublin, Ireland

Today Iona draws tourists from around the world to see this hidden gem and the site of the monastery first founded there by Columba himself in 563. Yet not content to live out his banishment in idle reflection or even scholarly absorption, Columba and the few companions who had willingly left Ireland to serve alongside him soon left their island sanctuary to penetrate the hostile interior of Scotland, bringing with them the Gospel and all its manifest benefits. From the varied sources we have of these missionary incursions, we learn of these men’s practice of bringing mercy and justice to the settlements they reached, medicine and technology, freedom from superstitions and constant strife, literacy to kings and peasants alike, and even the mention of a confrontation between Columba and a dreadful sea monster inhabiting Loch Ness.

This plaque near the River Foyle in modern day Derry, Northern Ireland marks the departure point of Columba (here called by his original name, Colmcille) to go and establish the work in Iona

The picturesque ruins of Iona Abbey in 1899, before extensive restoration work

Columba settled monasteries everywhere he went in Scotland, and stayed on the mainland for years at a time so that his care and wisdom might be more accessible to his new converts. This was no hurried tour of evangelism where souls were saved and then abandoned in favor of the next fresh crop of sinners—on the contrary, his constancy in discipleship and willingness to remain amongst them garnered him so great a reputation even outside of Scotland that his very name, and that of his monastery at Iona, became synonymous with Christian generosity and equity. He welcomed foreign princes fleeing persecution by their families and spoke in defense of the rights of bards and their storytelling craft. He banished pagan idolatries but prized cultural peculiarities, and upheld the jurisdictional sovereignties of various clans and kingdoms. Rather than being an oddity in his day for all these great pursuits, Columba was in fact a man of his time: half statesman, half churchman, and exceptional at both. Where he did not manage to travel himself, his Irish companions and new disciples pressed ever further, even into the north of England and into France, claiming all for Christ, with a notable absence of any mention of papal authority in the small print.

The location of the Isle of Iona on Scotland’s rugged coastline

The cloisters of Iona Abbey

By the time of Columba’s death in the last days of the sixth century, monastic communities had been founded in his name all along the jagged inlets and mountainy heights of windswept Scotland. He had long since passed his self-imposed quota of three thousand and one souls saved—one for each man who had perished in the battle he had instigated all those years before. According to the ancient Irish historian Adomnán, on the day of his death Columba had been writing out Psalm 34. He stopped after completing the words “But they that seek the Lord shall not want any thing that is good”. He set down his quill and whispered: “Let Baithene write the rest”. That night Columba rose as usual from his spartan bed to join the brothers in singing the midnight hymns. As the monks reached the darkened church, they found Columba in ecstasy before the altar, where he blessed them all and then died. Historian James Bulloch has remarked, “All England north of the Thames was indebted to the Celtic mission for its conversion”. And indeed, Columba remains an example for the worldwide church of what great change can be conceived by zealous faithfulness, what happens when the meager span of our lifetimes does not limit our vision of Gospel dominion.

A fragment of an elaborately ornamented crozier (walking staff) said to have belonged to Columba

The Isle of Iona and Iona Abbey as seen today

Image Credits: 1 Panoramic view of Scotland (wikipedia.org) 2 Columba (wikipedia.org) 3 Columba converts a pict king (wikipedia.org) 4 Location of Gartan (wikipedia.org) 5 Gartan Lough (wikipedia.org) 6 Columba’s Church at Uidh (wikipedia.org) 7 Finnian of Moville (wikipedia.org) 8 Psalter page (wikipedia.org) 9 Cumdach of the Cathach of Columba (wikipedia.org) 10 Point of Departure (wikipedia.org) 11 Iona in 1899 (wikipedia.org) 12 Location of Iona (wikipedia.org) 13 Iona Cloisters (wikipedia.org) 14 Crozier of Columba (wikipedia.org) 15 Iona today (wikipedia.org)

King Alfred’s Victory Over the Great Heathen Army at Ethandun, c. May 6, 878

ne of the most pivotal battles in the history of Christendom occurred in the southernmost English kingdom of Wessex with nothing short of the future of Christianity at stake. Like so many deliverances of God’s people before and since, it came at the lowest ebb in their fortunes, after years of loss and torment, invasion and subjugation, with the hero of the hour being afflicted in body with various ailments and burdened with the duty of kingship at his kingdom’s darkest hour. Such is the stuff of legend. Such is the tale of Alfred the Great’s defeat of the heathen host at Ethandun (or Edington).

Battle of Ethandun Memorial Stone

It is fitting that King Alfred—a man credited with first envisioning a united, Christian England—should have enjoyed so long a fascination in English literature, with ballads and novels and histories having been ceaselessly dedicated to his legacy, as he himself made an incalculable contribution to the same in his own age. His legacy is one that must not be forgotten, one that unequivocally stands for a Christian England, with Christian laws and Christian erudition, against those who would supplant the Gospel with warped creeds of their own. King Alfred’s own example was one of generous willingness to make peace when possible, to convert rather than destroy, but in the end, to go down fighting rather than relinquish a country claimed by Christ to those who love death and death’s dark works.

King Alfred (849-899)

Viking Ships besieging Paris, 845

For generations before Alfred’s own reign, the island we now know as England—then a composite of various Briton and Anglo-Saxon kingdoms—had suffered from raiders coming in from the sea in their longboats to pillage and destroy its rich lands. These raiders had dragons carved into the prows of their ships and Thor’s hammer hung about their necks; they worshiped angry gods who called them to angry deeds, and their favored places of attack were monasteries. Even their very name, that of “Viking”, is more a descriptor associated with their bloody vocation than any particular ethnic link. They were the outcasts of their own peaceful, trade-oriented societies in the modern day countries of Denmark, Sweden and Norway.

Viking Ships with their dragon insignia

Reenactment of Vikings attacking and burning a village

Alfred’s grandfather had won a great victory against these raiders in his own day, cementing the kingdom of Wessex as independent, and raising hopes in the surety of his dynasty. Now in the mid 800’s, under the kingship of his elder brother, Prince Alfred continued to fight these ruthless incursions. The two brothers fought four battles, and suffered defeat at three of them. They gained one solitary victory against the heathen at Ashdown. The courage and fervor he displayed that day earned the young Prince Alfred his first sobriquet, “the Wild Boar of Ashdown”.

A detailed map of England from 865-872, showing the routes of and battles with the Viking Great Heathen Army

Such success was fleeting, the heathen army was far from fully vanquished at Ashdown, and soon were reinforced by a great summer army arriving from their homelands. To make matters worse, Alfred’s older brother, King Æthelred I, was gravely wounded in battle and succumbed to his wounds in April of 871.

By such tragic circumstances, and caught in a most unenviable position, Alfred’s own kingship began. The attacks he had once faced with his brother continued unrelenting in the wake of his brother’s death. At a constant martial disadvantage and with the threat of butchery lingering constantly over his citizenry, Alfred first offered to buy peace from the Vikings. Such a choice did not endear him to most of his own folk, though it was becoming a common tactic by Saxon kings to buy time and harmony. It was a flimsy bribe at best, one they knew would not last. So did Alfred, yet by careful statecraft he managed to enact multiple treaties with the heathen Vikings, often suffering betrayal after betrayal from them in turn.

Viking invaders conquered by strength as well as intimidation

Arrival of the Viking Raiders

In the next few years, the Viking hordes gobbled up each independent kingdom lying north of Wessex; no amount of tribute or offer of alliance was accepted by them for long. Ravenous and ever dissatisfied, various Viking leaders drained each king dry, and when one could no longer deliver his payments, they would supplant him. Viking law was established throughout the conquered lands in each case, and Christian practices with Christian ethics were entirely erased. Those who would not submit were put to death, or fled to Alfred’s Wessex for sanctuary. This teetering refuge of Christian independence would be hailed as “the last kingdom”, and Alfred was looked to as her sole instrument of preservation.

Viking invaders swept all opposition before them

Invasion into Wessex came again in the year 878, from land and sea, and a Viking king, Guthrum by name, even managed to seize Alfred’s capitol at Winchester, forcing Alfred and those faithful to him to flee and take refuge in the marshy wilderness outside. While Alfred was thus brought low and every day met with the suggestion of abandoning his cause permanently, the heathen King Guthrum was enjoying the pleasures of the captured capitol—among them Alfred’s remarkable library of translated Gospels and confessions.

The Boyhood of Alfred the Great by Edmund Blair Leighton, depicting Alfred’s very studious and scholarly bent, even from a young age

Then, in May of the same year came the pivotal battle of Ethandun, when Guthrum went out to hunt Alfred in his marshy hideaway and Alfred’s valiant men of Wessex rallied to him one more time. They clashed in the fields of Wiltshire, near the old landmark of the White Horse, a gigantic chalked equine figure that was ancient even by Alfred’s time. The final battle, the white horse, and Alfred’s last ditch defense of his land has been immortalized time and again, particularly in G.K. Chesterton’s Ballad of the White Horse. In it he imagines in dramatized fashion what the more factual Anglo Saxon Chronicle cryptically informs us was a monumental victory. The ballad begins, as all good hero-tales do, at the lowest ebb of near defeat, only for the tale to soar, as it did in real life, to a victory that would change the trajectory of the West forever.

Aerial view of the Uffington Horse, Oxfordshire, England…

Similar ancient hillside carvings of white horses appear throughout the English countryside

The victory at Ethandun brought an abrupt halt to the Viking rampages of Christian lands and ensured the continuation of that system of justice that would become, in time, English common law. By securing Wessex, the battle at Ethandun laid the groundwork for Alfred’s dream of a united England, securing the peace and prosperity required for his later reforms, ones which strengthened his kingdom militarily, administratively, and culturally. His establishment of burhs (fortified towns) and naval defenses, and his zealous promotion of scholarship helped Wessex become a respected capitol of Christian learning.

King Alfred the scholar

The division of England under “Danelaw” after the treaty between King Alfred and King Guthrum

Alfred’s successors—his son Edward the Elder and grandson Æthelstan—built on this victory to reconquer all those kingdoms previously ruled by the Vikings, eventually amalgamating them into a single kingdom of England, united under the banner of Christ.

Of all outcomes of the battle of Ethandun which we remember today, most surprising was that of the public conversion and baptism of Alfred’s fierce Viking opponent, King Guthrum. Upon this great change, these two former enemies became responsible for the establishment of “Danelaw” in England, which fostered peaceable relations between Saxon and Viking settlements living side by side.

King Alfred and court witnessing the baptism King Guthrum, known afterwards by his Christian name of Æthelstan

By the time of Alfred’s grandson, King Æthelstan in the early 900’s, most Viking warlords had followed Guthrum’s example and converted to Christianity, proving Alfred’s own conviction that while martial defense is often necessary, there is nothing so powerfully absorbing as the work of Christ in the hearts of even the darkest of our enemies.

Image Credits: 1 Ethandun Memorial Stone (wikipedia.org) 2 King Alfred, Winchester (wikipedia.org) 3 Viking Siege of Paris (wikipedia.org) 4 Viking Dragon Ships (wikipedia.org) 5 Village Burning (wikipedia.org) 6 Great Heathen Army (wikipedia.org) 7 Viking Warrior (wikipedia.org) 8 Viking Landing (wikipedia.org) 9 Viking Ship Battle (wikipedia.org) 10 Boyhood of Alfred (wikipedia.org) 11 Uffington Horse, 1 (wikipedia.org) 12 Uffington Horse, 2 (wikipedia.org) 13 King Alfred the Scholar (wikipedia.org) 14 Danelaw Map (wikipedia.org) 15 Baptism of Guthrum (wikipedia.org)

Death of John Foxe, Author of Foxe’s Book of Martyrs, April 18, 1587

he Bible is replete with commands to chronicle and remember the great deeds of our Lord and the acts of His humble instruments—the saints throughout time. Their heroic acts of faith are separated from us only by their ordained place in the continuum of time and our short lifespans, and that separation is a small drop in the bucket of the everlasting fellowship we will share together in heaven. From the Apostle Paul’s account of the “great cloud of witnesses” in the book of Hebrews to God’s own command in Genesis to Moses after the defeat of Amalek to “write this as a memorial in a book and recite it in the ears of Joshua”, we are assured of two things: He is faithful and we are forgetful.

Joshua fighting Amalek

At the height of the Protestant Reformation in Europe, one Englishman named John Foxe found himself an exile from his mother country, forced to shelter in neutral Switzerland as his friends, mentors, and fellow congregants were put to death back home for their Protestant faith. Oxford educated and accustomed to earning his living by the printing trade, an idea formed in Foxe’s mind that soon engrossed all his energies: he would compile a record of the persecution of God’s people throughout the ages.

John Foxe (1516/1517-1587)

Before having to flee England for his life and welfare, Foxe himself had cast in his lot with the fledgling Nonconformists, thereby lost his position at Oxford (under King Henry VI), and his family had disowned him as a heretic. Adrift in Switzerland, he had found a strong community of other Protestant refugees, one of them being Scotland’s famous John Knox who encouraged him in his vision. Foxe published his first volume in Latin—the universal language of scholars—and its themes dealt none too subtly with persecutions in previous centuries in England, highlighting the Reforming movements of John Wycliff and his followers, known as Lollards.

An illustration from the first edition of Foxe’s Actes and Monuments of these Latter and Perillous Days, Touching Matters of the Church, more commonly known as Foxe’s Book of Martyrs, first published in 1563

John Wycliffe sending out a band of itinerant preachers who became known as Lollards

While Foxe was in the process of publishing this first book, a new monarch ascended the throne back in England. Her strict adherence to the Catholic Church and drastic measures to root out all those who would not bow to its mandates earned her the monicker “Bloody Mary”. All Bibles in English were sought out and destroyed, and those who owned them and would not recant from their faith were tortured and put to death by public burnings. Such tales of woe reached Foxe in Switzerland, among them those of the heroism of his close friends, Tyndale, Latimer, Ridley and Cranmer—all martyred for their faith and in the cause of preserving God’s Word in the common tongue.

Martyrdom of William Tyndale (1494-1536)

Martyrdom of Thomas Cranmer (1489-1556)

Foxe compiled into a second volume the stories that reached him from the faithful back in England, which he initially published in a small release in Basel, Switzerland. Shortly after this, yet another English queen replaced the previous—her name was Elizabeth, and under her more tolerant policies, Foxe felt safe to return to his homeland and take up pastoral work. There, at home in England, Foxe spent years in further study, tracking down documents and certain eyewitnesses to martyrdoms, and afterwards produced an expanded work of his volume on martyrology. Once completed, the book boasted a total of 1,800 pages, embellished with numerous illustrations sparing no detail pertaining to the gruesome fates of the faithful sufferers. Foxe translated this work into English so that it might be read by the common man and had it published by John Day in London in the year 1563.

A 1562 portrait of Publisher John Day (c.1522-1584) from the frontispiece of Foxe’s Book of Martyrs

Basel, Switzerland as viewed from the Rhine River, with the Protestant Cathedral dominating the landscape

A still later edition was published in 1570, revised and enlarged to some 2,500 pages to include the history of persecution from the Early Church forward, although scrupulously exempt from any mention of Catholic persecution, it should be noted. Under Elizabeth’s direction this new volume was ordered displayed alongside the Holy Bible in every church, common hall, and college throughout England.

The title page to the 1563 edition of Foxe’s Book of Martyrs, heavily illustrated to show the breadth of history covered

The Reformation of the sixteenth century had brought about change in culture and not just the church—there was a literacy revolution afoot unlike any seen before. Average men and women were now capable of owning books due to the proliferation of the printing press, and the education required to comprehend them kept apace. The great Reformer William Tyndale’s hope for the ‘humble ploughboy to know more of the Scriptures’ than the pretentious clergy had come into being. Foxe’s Book of Martyrs as it became known, was second only to the Divine Word in its reach during that time—a time that boasted authors like Shakespeare and Moore. Vicars read from it during Sunday services. Francis Drake read it aloud on the Western seas. It inspired the upcoming generation of Puritans. It took the world by storm. But the rigors of his research also took a toll on Foxe’s personal health, and he went to be with his Lord and the saints whom he so diligently honored on this day, April 18, in the year 1587.

An engraving of John Foxe, captioned: “The true Picture of John Foxe, who Gathered together and published the Actes and Monuments of the Universall History of the same, wherein is set at Large the Whole Course of the church, from the Primitive age to these Latter times, Especially in this Realme of England”

St. Giles-without-Cripplegate, London—final resting place of John Foxe

Foxe’s incredible work is still in print today, unabridged and as stirring as ever, a harrowing reminder of the price those who have come before us paid for their faith—a price still exacted to this day from our brothers and sisters all over the world. A compilation of stories with no earthly happy ending, whose common denominator is only one of the most feared mortal things on earth—death—is only a fortifying read to those whose faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

Image Credits: 1 Joshua fighting Amalek (wikipedia.org) 2 John Foxe (wikipedia.org) 3 Illustration (wikipedia.org) 4 Wycliffe and Lollards (wikipedia.org) 5 Martyrdom of Tyndale (wikipedia.org) 6 Martyrdom of Cranmer (wikipedia.org) 7 John Day (wikipedia.org) 8 Basel, Switzerland (wikipedia.org) 9 Title Page (wikipedia.org) 10 Foxe, from his Book of Martyrs (wikipedia.org) 11 St. Giles, Cripplegate (wikipedia.org)

The Death of Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, April 4, AD 397

ntrusted by Providence with the great task of leading the renowned Augustine of Hippo to Christ and baptizing him into the church, Ambrose of Milan was a model bishop and servant of the Gospel during his lifetime. Commended as one of the greatest of the early church fathers, Ambrose was a statesman turned bishop, a fearless defender of orthodoxy and a studied theologian that each subsequent generation of pastors has learned from greatly.

Ambrose surrounded by his books

Ambrose was born in the province of Gaul, where his father served as the Roman governor there. After the death of his father when he was quite young, Ambrose’s Christian mother moved the family to Rome so that Ambrose might receive the best education available at the time. He was raised to be a skilled poet, orator, and lawyer, in close association with men of the church, and after practicing law in the Roman courts for a time, Ambrose was himself named governor of the entirety of northern Italy, and headquartered in Milan.

A scale model of the ancient Roman city of Trier (Augusta Treverorum), birthplace of Ambrose, in the Roman province of Gaul—note the Roman Circus and Amphitheater as prominent features of the landscape

The Roman province of Gaul as it would have been shortly before the birth of Ambrose

At this time there was a great crisis in Christendom that greatly affected Milan: a schism tearing the church apart between the Nicean Christians and the Arian Christians. The debate centered around the full divinity of Christ and the orthodox understanding of the Trinity, doctrines that years before a man named Arius had challenged. So greatly divided was the church at Milan that they insisted on the irregular practice of maintaining two Bishops, one for each sect. Such an arrangement hardly promoted harmony or the effective administration of the church, but under Ambrose’s civil governorship, the parishioners found at least their temporal well-being cared for to a great degree.

The First Council of Nicea in 325—Arius is pictured condemned at the feet of the Council

A most unexpected calling arose for Ambrose when the Arian Bishop Auxentius died in 374. The city of Milan was divided over who should replace him—if he should be replaced at all—and tensions were high. As governor, Ambrose assembled the people and used his oratorical powers to help forestall violence in the settlement of this dispute. Yet, even while Ambrose was still speaking, a cry from the crowd rose up and turned into a chant: “Let Ambrose be bishop!”

Saint Ambrose in His Study, Spanish, Palencia, ca. 1500—on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, NY

Ambrose himself had been a noted opponent of the Arian creed in his personal life, yet his fairness and piety in civil matters was so respected that he was universally agreed upon to become the new bishop of a consolidated church of Milan. So it was that the thirty-five-year-old governor, to his great dismay, was elected the city’s pastor by will of the people and a confirming order from the Emperor himself.

A marble portrait of a young Gratian (359-383), future Emperor, who would confirm Ambrose as Bishop

Despite this unplanned calling to ministry, Ambrose diligently set himself to bolster his youthful studies in theology and soon became an incredible preacher and a deft defender of orthodox doctrine. He combatted paganism and heresy with diligence, maintained the independence of the church against civil overreach, and championed morality. He confronted political leaders—even emperors—when necessary, and had to defend his cathedral repeatedly from soldiers sent by the same to bend his theology to their whims. He wrote books, treatises and commentaries on the Bible that are still consulted to this day. He is credited with introducing the tradition of singing hymns into the western church. He modeled for others the pastoral attitude of visiting the sick, providing for the needy and championing the rights of those without representation. Ambrose tended the grand city of Milan as a shepherd.

Ambrose of Milan (339-397) as represented in a mosaic in the church St. Ambrogio in Milan—this might be an actual portrait, made while Ambrose was living

Bishop Ambrose bars Emperor Theodosius I from entering Milan Cathedral. After the ‘Massacre of Thessalonica’ in 390, Bishop Ambrose forbade the emperor from entering and taking communion without first doing public penance, with which Theodosius complied by coming to worship in plain clothes (not his imperial robes) for several months, after which time Ambrose welcomed him back into fellowship and permitted him at the Lord’s Table once again.

Among his flock was a widow who held a great love for him and his teachings. Her name was Monica, and it was her most fervent prayer that her infidel son would come to know Christ. Ambrose prayed with Monica for this wayward son, and in time those prayers were answered—the young man’s name was Augustine. Through Ambrose’s influence and preaching, the skeptical Augustine found himself deeply impressed, sought personal counseling from the bishop and was converted.

The conversion of Augustine

Monica and her son Augustine

Ambrose continued preaching until he fell sick in 397. When distressed friends prayed for his healing, he said, “I have so lived among you that I cannot be ashamed to live longer, but neither do I fear to die; for we have a good Lord.” On Good Friday, April 3, 397, Ambrose lay with his hands extended in the form of the cross, moving his lips in prayer. His friends huddled in sadness and watched. Sometime past midnight their beloved bishop passed to his good Lord.

Image Credits: 1 Mosaic of Ambrose (wikipedia.org) 2 Model of Trier (wikipedia.org) 3 Roman Gaul (wikipedia.org) 4 Council of Nicea (wikipedia.org) 5 Ambrose in his study (wikipedia.org) 6 Young Emperor Gratian (wikipedia.org) 7 Ambrose with his books (wikipedia.org) 8 Ambrose barring Theodosius I (wikipedia.org) 9 Conversion of Augustine (wikipedia.org) 10 Augustine and his mother Monica (wikipedia.org)