I've taken my Ballad of the White Horse read-aloud from a few years ago, have added some resources (including a discussion group!), and have converted it into a FREE course on Thinkific.
 |
Enjoy!
And Merry Christmas!
Update, 14 April 2025: This course is now hosted at my forum The Well-Tempered Life. It's still free, but you do have to join the free members section to access it.
For many years in our home school I read G.K. Chesterton's poem "The Ballad of the White Horse" to my kids during the month of October. This is the story of Alfred the Great's struggle against the pagan invaders in the late 800s. I chose this month for our annual reading because Alfred's feast day is the 26th of October.
After all my kids graduated, I missed the annual read-aloud, so a couple of years ago I hosted a series of Zoom calls and read the poem aloud to whoever showed up. Before each reading I gave a little bit of historical or literary context to aid the understanding of my listeners.
Each book takes around fifteen minutes to read aloud, so it's perfect for Morning Time. I usually started reading early in the month and read two or three books a week so we'd finish ahead of the feast day, but some years we didn't manage to start till later in the month. It's all good -- just DO read (or listen to) this wonderful tale!
Here's the whole playlist.
 |
| Photo credit: Odejea Wikimedia Commons |
On this day in the year of our Lord 899, Alfred King of the Anglo-Saxons passed into glory. He was a good man -- a poet, a scholar, a warrior, a lawgiver, and above all a devout Christian.
This month I've been reading aloud on Zoom G.K. Chesterton's magnificent Ballad of the White Horse, which is about Alfred's fight against the pagan invaders. Here's the link to the read-aloud on YouTube, if you'd like to listen. I've read it aloud to my kids nearly every October for over a decade and they've all graduated and I'm having my Morning Time alone these days, so that's why I decided to read the Ballad on Zoom. I'm glad I did -- it was a lot of fun. You know, I didn't even think about mentioning it here ahead of time!
You can read more about Alfred at this Lectionary page. It includes the Collect I've quoted above, plus Scripture readings for the day, and brief history of Alfred.
This article from the University of Oxford has more information, including excerpts from some of his writings.
And here's an interesting article from a few years ago about the coin known as the Alfred coin
Enjoy!
To those who know a little of christian history probably the most moving of all the reflections it brings is not the thought of the great events and the well-remembered saints, but of those innumerable millions of entirely obscure faithful men and women, every one with his or her own individual hopes and fears and joys and sorrows and loves — and sins and temptations and prayers — once every whit as vivid and alive as mine are now. They have left no slightest trace in this world, not even a name, but have passed to God utterly forgotten by men. Yet each one of them once believed and prayed as I believe and pray, and found it hard and grew slack and sinned and repented and fell again. Each of them worshipped at the eucharist, and found their thoughts wandering and tried again, and felt heavy and unresponsive and yet knew — just as really and pathetically as I do these things. There is a little ill-spelled ill-carved rustic epitaph of the fourth century from Asia Minor: — ‘Here sleeps the blessed Chione, who has found Jerusalem for she prayed much’. Not another word is known of Chione, some peasant woman who lived in that vanished world of christian Anatolia. But how lovely if all that should survive after sixteen centuries were that one had prayed much, so that the neighbours who saw all one’s life were sure one must have found Jerusalem! What did the Sunday eucharist in her village church every week for a life-time mean to the blessed Chione — and to the millions like her then, and every year since then? The sheer stupendous quantity of the love of God which this ever-repeated action has drawn from the obscure Christian multitudes through the centuries is in itself an overwhelming thought.
— Dom Gregory Dix, The Shape of the Liturgy (1945). One of my favorite paragraphs I’ve ever read. (via wesleyhill)
 |
| Biographies, shelf 2 of 3 |
Lifting the great green ivy~*~ ~*~ ~*~
And the great spear lowering,
One said, “I am Alfred of Wessex,
And I am a conquered king.”
And the man of the cave made answer,
And his eyes were stars of scorn,
“And better kings were conquered
Or ever your sires were born.
“What goddess was your mother,
What fay your breed begot,
That you should not die with Uther
And Arthur and Lancelot?
“But when you win you brag and blow,
And when you lose you rail,
Army of eastland yokels
Not strong enough to fail.”
“I bring not boast or railing,”
Spake Alfred not in ire,
“I bring of Our Lady a lesson set,
This—that the sky grows darker yet
And the sea rises higher.”
Then Colan of the Sacred Tree
Tossed his black mane on high,
And cried, as rigidly he rose,
“And if the sea and sky be foes,
We will tame the sea and sky.”
“But when you win you brag and blow,After we finished reading Book Two, I went back and read that passage over again to my children. It is said that if you want to know what something is, one thing you should do is learn what it is not. Alfred does not respond in anger, but humbly accepts the rebuke and proves proves his greatness by stating that he’s planning on continuing the fight, even if it ultimately ends in defeat.
And when you lose you rail,
Army of eastland yokels
Not strong enough to fail.”
The Ballad of the White Horse is available online for free at Gutenberg.com and for Kindle, but I highly recommend the hardback by Ignatius Press, especially if you’re going to be reading it over and over again, which of course you should. This copy is elegantly laid out, uses a simple and beautiful font, and is generously illustrated with woodcuts by Robert Austin. The introduction gives a brief historical note on the events in the poem as well as some discussion of the poem itself, and contains a photograph of the actual white horse, which is cut into the turf on the side of a hill and filled with chalk – it’s nearly 400 feet long and its age is unknown. When the Romans asked the Britons about it, they said that when their people first arrived it was already there, and the people who were there before them did not know who had made it. This copy of the book also has a lot of end notes with helpful and interesting tidbits, but there are no notes in the text itself, so you’re not distracted by them while reading.Brightly the moonpath shone upon the sea, widely seen from high Kynwit wall, the stone fortress where Odda, Helmund’s stark son, stood watching. Hands gripping stone wall stood he there proudly. As a ship’s prow the wall was to him. Moon-swimming clouds above him breasted the sky, and he felt the fortress as a ship moving, traveling the shadowed sea.
On the dark sea eastward no ship moved that he saw. On the high sea cliff westward no warning watchfire gleamed. Men slept in Odda’s hall; the clustered shields slept on the long walls, weary with waiting. Odda therefore went weary likewise to his bedplace. The sentry alone now on the high wall watched nothing, saw nothing but the crowding shadows of clouds on the face of the moon-gleaming sea. On the high sea-cliff by the watchfire the sentry slept, and did not see the dark ships creeping that way, close below the cliff.
Chapter 1
“The Witnesses”
Athelstan Redbeard the Dane, King of East Anglia, died suddenly, sitting upright upon his horse, when I was two years old. He was my godfather, so my mother told me; but I have heard that he considered it his right to be godfather to all the children born at his court, so this was a distinction I shared with many. Once every year, on the anniversary of his own baptism, he held a great christening feast in his hall. There my grandfather, Olaf the Skald, would sing the long story of the King’s deeds and battles, as he himself had known them, having stood beside him both as pagan and Christian through most of them.
(Follow the discussion of Anthony Esolen's book at Cindy’s blog.)no justification of virtue will enable a man to be virtuous. Without the aid of trained emotions the intellect is powerless against the animal organism…. The head rules the belly through the chest—the seat, as Alanus tells us, of Magnanimity, of emotions organized by trained habit into stable sentiments. The Chest-Magnanimity-Sentiment—these are the indispensable liaison officers between cerebral man and visceral man. It may even be said that it is by this middle element that man is man: for by his intellect he is mere spirit and by his appetite mere animal. (The Abolition of Man, pp. 24-25)
St. Augustine defines virtue as ordo amoris, the ordinate condition of the affections in which every object is accorded that kind of degree of love which is appropriate to it. Aristotle says that the aim of education is to make the pupil like and dislike what he ought. (p. 16)
The great fairy tales and fantasy stories capture the meaning of morality through vivid depictions of the struggle between good and evil, where characters must make difficult choices between right and wrong or heroes and villains contest the very fate of imaginary worlds. The great stories avoid didacticism and supply the imagination with important symbolic information about the shape of our world and appropriate responses to its inhabitants. (pp. 17-18)
[m]ere instruction in morality is not sufficient to nurture the virtues. It might even backfire, especially when the presentation is heavily exhortative and the pupil’s will is coerced. Instead, a compelling vision of the goodness of goodness itself needs to be presented in a way that is attractive and stirs the imagination. A good moral education addresses both the congnitive and affective dimensions of human nature. Stories are an irreplaceable medium for this kind of moral education—that is, the education of character. (p. 20)
Now, the little histories that we learnt as children were partly meant simply as inspiring stories. They largely consisted of tales like Alfred and the cakes or Eleanor and the poisoned wound. They ought to have consisted entirely of them. Little children ought to learn nothing but legends; they are the beginnings of all sound morals and manners. I would not be severe on the point: I would not exclude a story solely because it was true. But the essential on which I should insist would be, not that the tale must be true, but that the tale must be fine. (The Illustrated London News, 8 October 1910, found at The Hebdomadal Chesterton)
offers a much more accurate picture of the oddness of Christian reality, a reality packed with weird invisibles and interlacing graces and dark evil. These are a large part of the world around us, but they are precluded from “realistic” stories; they can’t be measured. (“Most Real Fantasy,” Credenda/Agenda, Volume 14, Number 2)
The problem is that we can’t just start putting dialogue in the mouths of angels and demons at whim. Their reality and psychology is beyond us; it would be backhandedly blasphemous to write a tale that dictated where these great beings went and said, what God did next, and how the Holy Spirit answered a particular prayer. In short, we can’t write about real reality without degrading it. (ibid.)
Then Alfred laughed out suddenly,
Like thunder in the spring,
Till shook aloud the lintel-beams,
And the squirrels stirred in dusty dreams,
And the startled birds went up in streams,
For the laughter of the King.
And the beasts of the earth and the birds looked down,
In a wild solemnity,
On a stranger sight than a sylph or elf,
On one man laughing at himself
Under the greenwood tree –
"The gates of heaven are lightly locked,
We do not guard our gold,
Men may uproot where worlds begin,
Or read the name of the nameless sin;
But if he fail or if he win
To no good man is told.
"The men of the East may spell the stars,
And times and triumphs mark,
But the men signed of the cross of Christ
Go gaily in the dark.
