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This feat having been performed, he requested the venerable toad to impart the proverb upon which so much might depend. The worthy old gentleman was nothing loath, and, having given an exulting croak over the bodies of his slain foemen, spat twice in the air for joy, and proceeded to administer the toad-oath, which pledged Smith to strive his utmost to perform some task as yet unknown. Great, however, was his delight at finding that this task wasnone other than the very one to which he had already determined to devote his life, namely, the destruction of the Great Boar. And thus ran the proverb:—
“Blood of slayer and of slainMust together blended beEre the Boar’s detested reignCease, and Windsor shall be free.”
These words having been pronounced by the toad with due solemnity, he again went through the apparently unnecessary, not to say unpleasant, process of spitting twice, after which he quietly subsided, and crept under a large root, with a view to a long nap, which might last for a day, a year, or a century, as the humour took him.
Smith now set himself seriously to consider what should be done, and what was the exact meaning of the proverb. It was his earnest wish that the “detested reign” of the Boar should cease as soon as possible, but what the blending together of the blood of the slayer and the slain could possibly mean was an exceedingly hard puzzle, and one which he knew not how to unravel. As, however, he was bound to do his best to perform the task to the accomplishment of which he had pledged himself, he determined to sally forth from the forest and endeavour to seek the aid which the birds and beasts within it were unable to afford him. Accordingly, he marched back into society, which, if not precisely civilised, was somewhat different from that of the toads and other creatures who had for the best part of his life been his only companions. Had he lived some years later, there can be little doubt that his reappearance wouldhave created considerable surprise, and his costume would have been in singular contrast with that of ordinary men. As, however, at that period of the island’s history, men wore very little costume at all beyond that which nature had bestowed upon them, this was no difficulty in the way of our hero’s return. Moreover, the education given him by the toads had been so vastly superior to that which he would have received at the hands of his fellow-men, that there was nothing strange, uncouth, or remarkable either in his speech or manners, which, in fact, contrasted favourably with those of the human beings whom he was likely to meet.
In those days the villages were small and the dwellings comparatively few and far between. The country upon the borders of the forest presented a barren and miserable appearance, mainly in consequence of the extreme poverty of its inhabitants, who were deterred from the agricultural pursuits which they would otherwise have followed by the constant ravages of the cruel Boar. It was, therefore, a rare thing to see many people in that part of the country, and Smith, had he known it, would have been surprised at the number he saw as he strode forward on his way. As, however, he had been so long in the forest as to have forgotten the usual habits of the peasantry outside, he was not astonished at all, and saw without wonder that people were hurrying along in the same direction as himself from every quarter. It struck him as rather strange that they should all be going the same way, and, being desirous ol knowing the reason why, he took the not unnatural course of asking a peasant woman whom he overtook. “Do you not know?” she replied. “Are you a stranger inthe country, not to have heard that the great Druidess Bertha sacrifices to-day on Ascot Heath?”
“I knew it not,” returned Smith, and followed up his answer by an inquiry as to who the great Druidess Bertha might be. The peasant woman appeared to be quite shocked at his ignorance, but, with the gossiping propensity which occasionally besets the weaker portion of her sex, began instantly to impart to him all she knew and a good deal more.
Bertha, it seemed, was a person whose origin was shrouded in mystery. She had been educated by the Druids, and brought up as a female priestess of that reverend society. Although still young, she was supposed to have attained to great sanctity, and was immensely venerated by the peasantry. One thing alone distinguished her from the other Druids, namely, her unconquerable objection to human sacrifice; and Smith found, on further inquiry, that to-day’s ceremony was to consist only of the slaughter of oxen and sheep, and the offering of corn and fruits to the deities, whose aid was to be once more invoked against the tyranny of the Great Boar of Windsor. The account which he had heard made our hero more than ever desirous to witness the ceremony and to see the Druidess, and he accordingly followed the crowd to the sacred heath upon which it was to take place.
Ascot Heath was at that time somewhat different from its present condition. You remember, Brother Rhine, when you were last in England, what a sight we saw together in that celebrated locality. All London seemed to have emptied itself upon Windsor and its neighbourhood. The heath was thronged with excited crowds.
Hundredsupon hundreds of carts, gigs, and carriages of every description crowded one upon the other, and you owned that Rhineland had nothing to equal our Ascot week. Very different was the condition of things at the time of which I speak. I need hardly tell you that there was no “grand stand” in those days; the “ring” was as yet unknown; “Aunt Sally” was not, and never a gipsy had as yet appeared in the country. But the heath was wide and wild, rough and rugged, a fit place for the enactment of any such strange rites as those which his companion had led Smith to anticipate. He pushed boldly forward until he reached a spot from whence he could view the ceremony.
On the very edge of the forest, beneath a gigantic oak, upon a piece of rising ground, stood a figure upon which he, in common with every one else around him, riveted his eyes with the most intense interest and attention. It was a woman of more than ordinary height, clothed from head to foot in white drapery, her hair failing loosely upon her shoulders, with a simple chaplet of oak-leaves over her forehead. Her features were such as impelled you to look a second time after you had once gazed upon her. Nobility was stamped upon her brow. Courage, truth, and every other virtue which ennobles those of mortal mould were imprinted upon the lineaments of that countenance. Erect she stood, gazing down upon the peasant crowd below; and while her right hand held the sickle with which she had been performing some of the mystic rites of her order, her left arm was far outstretched as she pointed in the direction of that part of the forest in which the mighty Boar had madehis home.
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It was evident to Smith that the sacrifice, whatever it thatnot one word should escape him; and as all the people seemed animated by the same desire, a solemn and almost awful silence prevailed throughout the whole crowd. Then the Druidess spoke; her words fell clear and shrill upon the ears of her audience like the clarion notes of the trumpet which calls forth hosts to battle, and they pierced at once to the heart of Smith as they rang through the startled air. And thus spoke the Druidess:—
“Men of Britain’s Holy Isle,Spiritless and idle stillRest ye here, and all the whileForest demons work their will?Barren lie your hungry fields,Yielding nought for human food,While your spirit tamely yieldsTo the Tyrant of the Wood.Hear the Future! To the godsWhile libations Druids pour,Britain’s Oak to ruin nods,Rotten to the very core!Craven spirits fear and hideFrom the devastating foe.Can the gods be satisfiedWith a race of cowards? No!What the mighty gods inspireBertha to her race imparts.Hear ye all! the gods requireStalwart arms and valiant hearts.All the blood of victims slainNever can your country save,Till that country you sustainWith the daring of the brave.Yet are ye no craven race;If yourselves ye learn’d to know,Never would ye turn your faceFrom the coming of the foe.Ah! the spirit moves me now,Ancient spirit of the oak;'Neath its mighty spell I bow,Hear the words the gods evoke!'Mid the throng I see belowStands a man of courage true,And I see a light I knowFlashing from his eye of blue.'Tis the light of valiant strength,And its flash reveals to meThat the hour is near at lengthWhen my people shall be free;Free from terror and from yokeOf the sanguinary Boar.Let the hero strike the stroke;Ye are free for evermore!”
ThePriestess pronounced her last words with such intense animation, as if inspired by some supernatural power, that they produced a wondrous effect upon those to whom they were addressed. Indeed, it was not only her manner of speaking, but the matter of the words to which she gave utterance, which was well calculated to excite the people. Bowed down and dispirited for years under a great misfortune, they suddenly heard that deliverance was at hand, and that he by whom it might be wrought was actually standing among them at that moment. The greatest excitement, therefore, naturally prevailed, and a low murmur of mingled joy, surprise, and awe ran through the crowd.
The Druidess, meanwhile, stood still as a stone statue upon the hillock under the oak, gazing forward with eyes, fixed upon vacancy as if she were reading far into the Book of the Future, under the influence of some mighty spell. Her appearance, as of one in a trance, increased the reverential awe of the superstitious people, who remained for a few moments in a state of increasing doubt and wonder. Then some of them gathered courage and found voice to express the dearest wish of their hearts. “Holy Bertha!” they cried. “Sacred Maiden!Tell us who is our deliverer. Who is he that shall strike the stroke for our freedom? Where is he? How shall we find him?” And, as he spoke, the people pressed forward eagerly as near to the sacred hillock as their dread of the maiden’s sanctity would permit them to approach. With an imperious gesture she waved them back, and then, passing her hand across her brow, as if to brush away the trance which still partially obscured her vision for things present, she uttered the following words in a low and hurried tone:—
“The strength of a god and the skill of a toadUnite in the man who shall Windsor deliver;His name shall be hallow’d in every abode,And henceforth shall be known in old England for ever!”
These words, although they possibly went but a very little way towards giving to the inquiring crowd the information they so anxiously desired, were of course very intelligible to Smith, even without the aid of any of that magic knowledge which he had acquired from his forest teachers. He was now certain, beyond all reasonable doubt, that the Druidess referred to him as the deliverer from the Great Boar, and that, having committed herself to such a prophecy, she and the priests of her order would, for their own sakes if for no better reason, do their very best to secure its fulfilment. But I am bound to say that other thoughts also occupied the breast of our hero. From the very first moment that he had set eyes upon the Druidess he had been struck with wondrous admiration. There was something in her appearance so majestic, so noble, and at the same time so winning, that the heart of Smith throbbed with new emotions, nor did he cease to gaze earnestlyat the sacred maiden during the whole time of her discourse. In fact, I believe that, almost unconsciously to himself, a fervent desire that Bertha the Druidess should become Mrs. Smith took possession of our hero’s soul, and he fell a hopeless victim to “Love at first sight” without being aware of the fact.
Any friendly feeling, moreover, which might have been suggested by the outward appearance of the holy maid was tenfold increased when her words gave evidence that she was ready to help his accomplishment of that great object to which he had devoted his life. To be singled out from the crowd for praise, compliment, and prophecy of future distinction is an honour of which any man may be proud under general circumstances; but when the person who singles you out happens to be young and lovely, the flattery is not unfrequently of double sweetness, and tends to evoke a feeling which, if it takes its origin in gratitude, is not unlikely to become something warmer. Be this as it may, Smith felt towards the young Druidess as he had never felt before, and was by no means sorry that the circumstances in which he found himself rendered it absolutely necessary that he should seek a private interview with her as soon as possible. For, as no one but he himself could know that her words referred unmistakably to him, it was unlikely that he would be recognised as a leader or clothed with any authority unless some further steps were taken in the matter.
After having pronounced the last words, Bertha had hastily retreated behind the oak, and there was little chance that she would show herself again upon that occasion.. But Smith had underrated both the foresight ofthe Druidess and the intelligence of her hearers. Many of these had observed the presence amongst them of an entire stranger, and as, from a very early period of their history, Britons have been tolerably good hands at “putting two and two together,” they had arrived at the conclusion that this individual was extremely likely to be the deliverer whom the Priestess had declared she saw amid the throng below.
In those days, bashful modesty was not, as now, the characteristic of a British crowd. Instinctively they pressed around the stranger, and addressed to him several observations which savoured more of curiosity than politeness. They were good-natured, to be sure, as British crowds are even to the present day; but not recognising in him at once the qualities which had been so easily perceptible to the inspired Bertha, they questioned him familiarly and as one of themselves. It was not long, however, before their manner changed. Smith told them plainly that he came from the forest, that toads and toad-mysteries were known to him, and that so far at least he answered to the description which they had lately heard as that of their deliverer.
As they listened to his words, the respect of the simple rustics for the speaker greatly increased; his answers were whispered from one to the other, and there appeared a general disposition to welcome him as their leader, if leader indeed there was to be. Seeing that the opportunity was favourable, but yet too cautious to push matters far upon the first onset, Smith begged the crowd to disperse, but promised that, if they were of the same mind three days hence, he would meet them upon the heath at that time. To this they agreed; andhaving with some difficulty escaped from sundry loiterers who followed him, gaping and staring as if he had been some newly discovered monster, our hero returned to the forest and reported his adventures to his friends the toads. The latter listened with much satisfaction to his account of all that had happened, and gave him valuable advice as to his future proceedings. In accordance with their instructions, he again journeyed to the oak of Ascot Heath upon the next evening, and sought an interview with the Priestess upon whom his hopes were centred.
Interviews with Druidesses were not, in those days, very easy of accomplishment, and were not unattended with danger. For, if the Druids did not happen to approve, anddidhappen to discover the fact, the culprit stood an excellent chance of being speedily sacrificed. Smith, however, had no fear, and, as is proverbially the case, fortune favoured the brave. He met the holy maiden walking in the forest before he reached the oak. I really cannot tell you exactly what passed at the interview, but I know it resulted (as such interviews not unfrequently do) in the appointment of another. This also took place without any obstacle arising, and the result was that, when the time appointed for the reassembling of the people had arrived, Smith’s plans were pretty well matured.
Standing near the sacred oak, he addressed the crowd before him in brief but energetic words. He pointed out to them the misery which their country had so long endured through the ravages of the Great Boar. He declared that the thing, was intolerable, and that it only rested with themselves to put an end to it by a greatand united effort. He professed himself willing to lead them if they would only engage to follow him, and was confident that, if he were obeyed, all would go well. If, indeed, they had any doubt about his being a fit person to lead them, let them only say so and he would at once yield to another. These words were received with much favour by many of his audience, but some of the more timid and doubtful still hesitated as to their course, when suddenly a voice spoke from the old oak in words of unmistakable import:—
“This is the man and this the hourTo break the tyrant’s hateful power.No longer, Englishmen, delay;Choose—listen—follow—and obey!”
These words at once reassured every one, and effectually settled the question. Smith was unanimously elected leader, and, like other leaders, proceeded at once to declare his policy. He told his followers that the first thing to be done was to make a good road right into the heart of the forest. People are apt to magnify dangers about which they know little, and the thick and impenetrable nature of the Boar’s retreat greatly added to the idea of his wondrous power. The first thing, then, was to let the light of day in upon him, and, accordingly, the very next morning, a strong body of labourers commenced to work at a good, broad road, which should penetrate the heart of the forest.
Of course this undertaking occupied some time, during which the secret interviews between Smith and the fair Druidess were not unfrequent, and the brave young leader obtained much good advice as to his mode of procedure.
Themost extraordinary part of the story is that, all this time, no one heard or saw anything of the Boar. Whether he knew less of magic than was supposed, and, being engaged on the other side of the forest, did not know what was going on near Ascot Heath—or whether he knew and didn’t think it worth while to interfere—or whether he was idle, sleepy, ill, or anything else—I don’t know; but he never interfered at all until a long length of road had been made, and a gang of labourers had got very near his lair.
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Then, one fine morning, he rushed out with a number of his followers, ripping and goring right and left, and driving everything before him. It so happened that Smith was not with the workmen that day. Probably he had gone on some errand for the Druidess; but, however this may have been, the result was the same, and, in the absence ofour hero, the Boar had it all his own way. In consequence of this triumph, the monster gave a great feast of hogwash and potatoes to all his subjects, and their grunting afterwards was so loud and horrible that it was remembered for a period of many years in the neighbourhood of Windsor.
Smith, as you may suppose, was thoroughly disgusted when he found what had occurred, and all the more so as he felt that his presence might, and probably would, have prevented the misfortune. Nothing daunted, however, he resolved to repair the mischief as quickly as possible. He sent far and wide throughout the country for all the white horses which could possibly be secured, and begged as many of their owners as felt martially inclined to accompany their steeds. This was done under the sage advice of the toads, to whom it was well known that to white animals beyond all others has been given the power of resisting the influences of magic arts. The knowledge that Smith’s movement was supported by the Druids materially operated to promote the success of his request. From all quarters white horses and horsemen came flocking to the appointed place on Ascot Heath, and upon a certain day which he had fixed the leader found himself at the head of a numerous body of cavalry. He next proceeded to arm every man with a long wooden spear pointed with iron, and having given them their watchword and rallying cry, “Bacon,” marched boldly towards the forest. And now began the contest with the powers of magic.
The Boar sent forth his legions, having for the nonce converted hundreds of pigs into creatures bearing the formof man, whilst his own regiment of sharp-tusked boars acted as a reserve force in their own shape and form. They could not, however, prevail against the white army, protected by the wisdom of the toads and backed by the incantations of the saintly Druids. After a combat along the whole line which lasted for some hours, the magic forces of the Boar gave way on every side. Their resistance, indeed, stout and dogged as it had been at first, gave way at the sight of an enormous ham, boiled and ready for use, which at a critical moment of the contest was displayed by the orders of Smith at the top of a long pole. No porcine nature could withstand this spell, sure be-tokener of the fate of every vanquished and slaughtered pig. The enchanted animals (as the toads had privately told Smith would certainly be the case) resumed their natural shape by hundreds at the sight of this wondrous emblem, and fled with wild grunts into the forest, followed by the victorious army. On every side the white horsemen rode down the flying porkers, impaling them on their iron-tipped spears, and shouting “Bacon” until the forest rang again with the martial sound. Smith himself performed prodigies of valour, overthrowing and slaying numbers of the foe, and greatly assisting in bringing about the complete and terrible defeat which befell the forces of the Boar.
So it was that towards eventide the battle was practically over, for not a pig but had resumed his natural shape, not a foe but had either fallen or fled into the deep recesses of the forest and sought safety in ignominious concealment from the face of day. Yet fast within his lair remained the Great Boar himself, and no onehad as yet beheld him upon that day so fatal to his tribe. Why or wherefore he had not headed his troops is more than I can say. One would have supposed that his presence would have encouraged them, and that his continued seclusion within his lair must have been the most foolish proceeding on the part of the chief of an army who had so much at stake. But whatever reason he had, it is certain that he never appeared, and his people were slaughtered right and left without his ever coming to the rescue.
Smith, however, was not to be treated in this manner by his mighty enemy. Unless the latter were dealt with in some satisfactory way, he knew well enough that his victory would have been all in vain, and that the evil with which his country had so long been afflicted would be by no means ended. He hesitated not, therefore, to push boldly forward into the heart of the forest, and seek the tyrant in his lair. The wood was uncommonly thick, and progress extremely difficult. Gigantic brambles formed an almost insuperable barrier, twining round the legs of the traveller in a manner remarkably disagreeable, and forming at certain places an almost impregnable network of defence. The bushes, too, grew thickly where the brambles did not, huge oaks stood about wherever there was any space clear from bush and bramble, strange weeds cropped up around, and altogether the place was as wild and difficult of access as you can well imagine. Yet Smith pushed bravely on, with some of his chosen companions, until he suddenly found himself in an open space some sixty feet square, almost entirely surrounded by oak-trees, plentifully encircled by ivy of the most luxuriant growth. As he enteredthis space, a deep voice uttered these words in terrible accents:—
“How dares the child of loathsome toad.Unasked to enter this abode?No longer press thy childish whim,Back! or I tear thee limb from limb.”
The followers of the great deliverer were visibly staggered by these awful words, more especially as the speaker was nowhere to be seen. Smith himself, however, being perfectly prepared for some such proceeding on the part of his enemy, was not for a moment disconcerted in the smallest degree. By the advice of the powers which had directed and shielded him throughout the whole of his arduous enterprise, he had armed himself with an oaken staff, cut from a sacred tree which grew near to my banks, and which was held in peculiar estimation by the people. This staff, having been dipped in my river, and afterwards heavily tipped with lead, was a weapon of considerable power, and the gallant Smith brandished it on high above his head as he replied to his invisible enemy in the following words:—
“Boast loud and long, thou villain Boar,And trust in dealings magic;More humbly shalt thou shortly roar,And meet an ending tragic.Come forth and try! I thee defy,By mighty aid of Druid,And this good staff, which lately IHave dipt in Thames’s fluid.Come forth, I say! No more delay!You rascal! what, youwon’tstir?I brand thee, in the face of day,A vile and hideous monster! ”
The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when a horriblenoise between a grunt and a roar burst upon the ears of the attacking party, and the Great Boar of Windsor broke from his lair and rushed furiously upon his enemies. His eyes glared like fireballs—his bristles were erect and awful to see—his tusks seemed sharper and more enormous than any one would have supposed possible—and his whole appearance evinced such a mixture of strength and ferocity as might well have caused the stoutest heart to quail before his approach. Fury was in his countenance, and frightful was the expression of his face as he charged headlong down upon Smith, with a force which it seemed impossible to withstand. Uttering his war-cry in the shape of a suppressed but horrid grunt, he held his head low, and was evidently bent upon ripping up the intruder with the least possible delay.
To be ripped up, however, was by no means Smith’s intention. Springing hastily aside, he dealt the Boar a blow with his staff as he passed in the mad career which he was unable to check. The blow, dealt with the hero’s full force upon the back of the monster’s head, changed his grunt into a squeak of pain, but otherwise had no visible effect upon him. Rendered doubly furious by the failure of his first rush, the Boar now turned upon some of Smith’s companions, upon whom he trusted to have wreaked an easy vengeance. But, with admirable sagacity, Smith had foreseen the possibility of such an occurrence, and, instructed by the toads, had carefully provided against it. Each of his followers who had entered the lair, besides being armed with spears as I have described, had in his hand a short stick upon the end of which was fastened a sausage.
Theorder given was, that, if the Boar attacked, this should simply be held out in front of the person in danger, which order you may well believe was faithfully obeyed. The effect was certainly marvellous. At the sight of each sausage the Boar’s powers appeared to fail him, and he turned with a disappointed groan to find another victim. One man, indeed, found the protection useless, and was miserably ripped up and destroyed by the monster. A momentary panic prevailed, but it was fortunately remembered that the luckless individual had brought his own sausage from his own manufactory, and that sundry of his neighbours who had lost their cats had more than once thrown the darkest suspicion upon the character and quality of the article which he supplied. It is therefore probable that the virtue inherent in sausages made from the lawful animal was wanting in his case, and that he perished justly as a deceiver of his fellow-men.
But the Boar could make no head against a body of men so well prepared for his assault. He foamed at the mouth—he roared—he grunted—he howled—he rushed madly to and fro—but all his efforts were useless. Then once more he turned himself round and rushed with a frantic force upon the leader of his foes. Smith was at that instant standing close to an oak-tree, and so sudden was the Boar’s attack that he had barely time to avoid it by a vigorous spring which he made, catching as he did so a branch above his head, and swinging himself up out of harm’s way.
The Boar, meanwhile, unable to stop himself, rushed with great force against the tree. To his infinite surprise, and indeed to the astonishment of all who saw it, thehard surface of the oak yielded to his touch, his tusks penetrated the bark, and he remained there firm and fast, caught by the head and held as if by a vice. At the same moment a strain of sweet and solemn music burst upon the ears of those who were present, and from behind the oak-tree stepped the figure of the Priestess Bertha, clad as she had been on the previous occasion of her addressing the people, save that she wore upon her head a wreath of mistletoe, bright and glistening with berries. Walking up to the still struggling Boar, she calmly sat down upon him, just as if he had been a camp-stool, upon which he groaned audibly, but remained perfectly still. Then the Priestess proceeded to speak:—
“The Boar is vanquished in the fight,And ended is his former might.Cursed by his yoke no more ye be,But Windsor’s children shall be free.Yet be ye cautious, firm, and wise,Or other foes may still arise,And ye may scarcely yet escapeFrom boars in brute or human shape.Still, good advice I give to you:Be honest, loyal, just, and true;Drink not the wine that tastes of cork;Keep down the pigs by eating pork;Love sausages (avoiding shams);And don’t forget to cure your hams.So, if your lives are good and pure,Your happiness shall be secure;Windsor to high renown shall soar,And ne’er again be spoiled by boar.Meanwhile, ’tis time I play my part,And banish hence foul magic art!”
Then, slowly rising from her strange seat, and extending her arm high in the air above the miserable Boar, She began to mutter to herself in a low tone mystic wordsof dark and wondrous import, which had all the more effect upon her hearers because nobody understood them. Presently she turned again to the listening army, and thus addressed the Boar, her countenance bearing a stern expression and her whole appearance being one of queenly dignity:—
“Foul beast! henceforth thy power is stayed,Thy former vassals shall be free;Thine art no more shall be displayed,But Windsor Forest boarless be!Yet must thou not this forest leave,Or quit the place, alive or dead,Whence thou hast caused the land to grieve,And tears in oceans to be shed.In altered form remaining here,Receive, vile tyrant, this thy ban:Be filled henceforth with timid fear,And tremble at the sight of man.Henceforth on roots and insects feed;And yet, when nobler creatures die,Be thou suspected of the deed,A hated sight to keeper’s eye!”
She spoke; and as the words fell from her inspired lips, a wondrous and melancholy change came over the unhappy animal to whom they were addressed. His tusks fell off, his head diminished, his body grew smaller even while she was speaking, and, as she ceased, the once great Boar stood there in the presence of his enemies, neither more nor less than an unusually large hedgehog. Shouts of mingled joy and astonishment broke from the surrounding peasants as they perceived this highly satisfactory transformation taking place upon their dreaded foe. There he stood, trembling and shivering before them, furtively casting his eyes right and left as if in search of some hiding-place to which hemight betake himself at once. Then, after a moment or two, he curled himself up after the general manner of hedgehogs into a round, impenetrable ball, a proceeding which evoked shouts of laughter from those who had lately trembled at his very glance, but who now felt the most supreme contempt for their vanquished enemy. As they stood and gazed upon him, the transformed animal presently unrolled himself again, and scuttled away as fast as he could among the dry leaves, making, with a new but natural instinct, for a place of concealment beneath the roots of the enormous trees which grew around the spot. And in fact, so far as this history concerns the Great Boar of Windsor, Brother Rhine, I might as well bring it to a close at once, for little more was ever heard of him. The blow struck at Boardom throughout the kingdom by the destruction of his power was very great, and the race gradually died away and became extinct. Not so by any means the hedgehogs, who from that time forth mightily increased all over England, and who down to the present day love to make it their boast that they are lineally descended from the Great Boar of Windsor. So proud of ancient ancestry are even the brute beasts of creation, aping that arrant fool, man, in this as well as sundry other follies.
It is curious to observe how exactly the prophecy of the Druidess has been fulfilled with regard to these hedgehogs. They live, as we know, upon roots and insects, and it has been over and over again demonstrated by learned naturalists that their physical formation is such as to preclude the possibility of their being carnivorous animals. But tell a gamekeeper this, and he will laugh youto scorn. The words of the Druidess have come true enough in this instance; and if a nest of eggs is found destroyed, or a young pheasant torn or slain, the hedgehog is declared to be the culprit, and his unhappy race is persecuted even unto death.
Tradition says, however, that death has never fallen upon the Great Boar himself, or that if his body has really perished, as one would suppose to have been the case long ago, his spirit still haunts the locality which his power and his crimes rendered so celebrated in those days of yore. Certain it is, that if you happen to know the site of the Boar’s lair, which of course I know, Brother Rhine, but which is hidden from the knowledge of all mortals save those favoured by Fairyland power, you may sometimes hear tidings of its former occupant. Wander forth on a clear moonlight night, hide yourself securely among the brushwood or behind the gigantic oaks which still exist, and you will see all that is left of the monster who was so long the scourge and terror of the place. A large hedgehog, bearing the weight of many years upon his back, will issue from beneath the roots of some of the old trees, followed by several smaller beings of the same species. Slowly and sadly he will creep, with feeble steps and decrepit gait, down the open space in front of the trees, and pass before you, uttering a low grunt of retrospective misery as he crawls over the altered scenes of his departed greatness. Move not; raise not a finger; keep entire silence; and as you gaze upon the unhappy wretch, let pity rather than scorn take possession of your heart; and when after his short walk he returns shaking with age and sorrow, and once more creeps into his humble hiding-place,ponder over the shortness and instability of earthly power and wealth, and remember that you have beheld all that remains of that terrible being who was once so infamously notorious as the Great Boar of Windsor.
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But although I told you that, so far as the Boar was concerned, my story might very well have ended here, you cannot have listened to me with the attention which you have deigned to bestow without wishing to know something more of the fortunes of the other personages of whom I have spoken. As soon as the hedgehog had retired,and their apprehensions were once and for all removed, the worthy peasants broke out into what is nowadays called a “truly British cheer.” While they did this, the Priestess Bertha took the opportunity of retiring into the forest, so that when the good people had cheered enough, and were getting rather hoarse, they found that she had disappeared. The whole of their attention, therefore, was concentrated upon Smith, whom they surrounded with expressions of the warmest gratitude, and overwhelmed with thanks for the ability, courage, and discretion which he had evinced in the conduct of the whole affair. Had it been a few centuries later, they would doubtless have presented him with the freedom of their city, supposing them to have had one. As it was, they could do little but thank him, and declare themselves anxious that he should be their chief, or king, or anything else he pleased. Smith, however, stood moodily aside, leaning upon his spear, and declined to accept the offered dignity. The people were still crowding around him and urging him to complete the good work which he had just begun, by ruling over those whom he had freed from an intolerable yoke, when an event took place which entirely changed the character of the proceedings.
Suddenly there appeared among the trees and amid the people a number of Druids, clad in the vestments which they habitually wore, and brandishing the weapons with which they usually perpetrated the sacrifices which accompanied their most solemn rites. Without more ado they proceeded to seize upon Smith, and declared to the astonished people that the gods had intimated their will that he should be immediately sacrificed.
Thiswas by no means welcome news to those who heard it, nor could they readily understand why the Druids should desire the life of one who had hitherto shown the greatest reverence for them and their religion, and who had, moreover, just rendered a great public service.
Murmurs began to arise from the crowd, murmurs deep and angry, to the effect that jealousy of Smith’s influence was at the bottom of the movement, and that the Druids, who had never been able to get rid of the Boar until Smith had appeared on the scene, were ready to kill him out of the way as soon as ever he had accomplished the task which had been too much for themselves. Anxious to remove an impression which, if allowed to remain, might become the source of danger to their authority over the people, one of the chief Druids jumped upon the trunk of a fallen tree and begged leave to explain. This having been readily granted, the venerable man stated that the people ought to know by this time that reverend ecclesiastics never did anything wrong, and that mean or ignoble motives were never harboured in their holy hearts. “But,” he continued, “although Smith had certainly rendered considerable service to the people (and this the Druids would be the last to deny), he had nullified all his claims to their gratitude by the commission of an offence which struck a deep blow at the very root of that religion which was the sole basis of their social order, and their only hope alike for the present and the future. He had ventured to speak of love to the holy Druidess Bertha, and there was every reason to believe that they were privately married!”
Atthese words a thrill of horror ran through the crowd, who had been taught to believe a Druidess to be a species of being superior to the ordinary feelings of mortals, and one to whom marriage should have been an entire impossibility. They dared offer no further opposition to the Druids, and were about to suffer their gallant defender and deliverer to be dragged away to a cruel death without further effort to save him. But all was not over yet. Smith had allies of whom his cowardly followers and his bigoted persecutors were alike ignorant. With a mighty effort he shook off the priests who held him, and in a stentorian voice shouted aloud the words of magic token, “Help, oh, my Toddlekins!” Scarce were the words out of his mouth when a toad of extraordinary size hopped from the forest into the open space, and looked around with eyes that sparkled with angry indignation. At the sight of him the Druids felt their hearts fail; their arms dropped by their sides, their weapons fell from their hands, and they lacked alike the will and the power to harm their intended victim.
Meanwhile the toad who had been adjured under the name of Toddlekins gave a jerk with his legs right and left, shook off his toad-skin, and appeared in the shape of a young man of singularly prepossessing appearance. His form was tall and manly, his beautifully shaped head was covered with dark hair, and the remarkably sweet expression of his countenance was enhanced by the extraordinary beauty and brightness of his eyes. Looking about him right and left, and waving his hand in a careless manner, he addressed the people as follows: “My friends,” he said, “you will excuse me for making the remark that you are a set of very particularfools. In order to convince you that I have a right to say this, I will tell you with plain brevity who and whatIam. I was born, never mind when or where, into this world, and being found in all respects much too good for it, the Fates decided that I should wait for a certain number of centuries before I again came into it as a mortal, and should meanwhile pass my time as a powerful fairy. As such I have lived in Toadland for some time past, and have especially watched over the education of my friend Smith. That is all I shall tell you about myself, except that my power has aided you to achieve your freedom, and will now prevent you from suffering a crime to be perpetrated which would disgrace you for ever. But I have something more to tell you about the person called Smith. He is one for whom I cherish a particular regard, and you ought to do the same. For has he not delivered you from your ancient enemy? But he has done more. The very crime of which he is accused, if crime it be, has been done inyourservice. He has fulfilled the old proverb, which it was necessary to do before the Boar’s power could be destroyed. This proverb declared that the blood of the ‘slayer and the slain’ must be blended together before the Boar’s reign should cease. Do you ask how this has been done? I will read you the riddle. The father of the Priestess Bertha was none other than an old Druid who sacrificed (most improperly) the male parent of my friend Smith. He had no right to a daughter at all, but of this I will say nothing except that the holy maiden has possession of the very spectacles which he always wore on sacrificing days, and which he bestowed upon her at his death, conveyingto her at the same time the information respecting her birth which I have just given you. Thus, then, the blood of the slayer and slain have been blended together by the marriage of the daughter of the former with the son of the latter. The Boar has consequently been got rid of, and unless you are the most ungrateful set of varlets that ever breathed, you will tell the Druids to go home and mind their own business, will celebrate the nuptials of the happy couple by a jolly good dinner, and break up at the close of the evening with ‘three cheers for Smith!’”
This speech of the fairy Toddlekins was received with rapturous applause by every one present, especially the closing allusion to a “jolly good dinner,” which in every age has had a decided attraction for Englishmen. The Druids, who were wise in their generation, at once determined not to risk the loss of their influence by further opposition to that which was evidently the popular will, and was moreover supported by the powers of Fairyland. So, determined to make the best of it without further delay, they pretended to have been entirely convinced by the speech they had just heard, and not only joined in the cheers which greeted its conclusion, but volunteered to stand the dinner into the bargain! They proceeded to do still more; within an incredibly short space of time they fetched Bertha (who had previously stood no inconsiderable chance of being sacrificed too), and presented her and Smith together before the fairy youth for his approving benediction. This, as you may easily suppose, was freely and kindly given.
I hardly think I need tell you any more. Smith still declinedto reign over the people, and, considering the experience he had had of their fickle nature, I don’t think he was far wrong. Nor do I deem him to have erred in his determination to leave that particular neighbourhood, being under the belief that when holy men have once intended to sacrifice a fellow, they are never very safe customers for him afterwards. So the happy couple very soon departed from Windsor, and I know very little more about them except that their family is not extinct at the present day, and is by no means likely to become so. I believe they lived very happily, and I never heard of any unpleasantness between them. Still I confess that, if I had been Smith, I should have been afraid to marry a woman who could change a boar into a hedgehog, lest at any time she should take it into her head to exercise her powers upon her husband in a manner which might have been inconvenient, to say the least of it.
I am scarcely in a position to tell you whether the fairy Toddlekins has ever left Toadland again and come once more upon earth as a mortal. I might make a guess, Brother Rhine, if I chose, even atthis, but perhaps I had better be silent. Many a pleasant youthful face, worthy of Fairyland, frequents my waters at times, and the old college of Eton has sent me such over and over again. But if I should single out any particular face and form, and declare to the astonished world that therein I recognised the noble fairy Toddlekins of the Druid times, I don’t suppose anybody would believe me; and even you, Brother Rhine, might think it possible that I was mistaken. So now I have finished my legend, and as I see that youhave not neglected your flagon of wine meanwhile, I hope that you have derived therefrom sufficient inspiration to be able to give me a tale of your own fair country which shall eclipse in interest the account which I have ventured to give you of the Great Boar of Windsor!
As soon as Father Thames had thus concluded his story, his companion clapped his hands in an approving manner. “That,” he remarked, “is a capital legend, and ends, as a legend should, in a comfortable manner. I have many curious tales of my own river, but none, I think, more curious than the one you have related. However, as it is now my turn, I will do my best, and, with your good leave, will tell you the famous story of 'Martha’s Vengeance.’”
Father Thames having gravely bowed approval, the monarch of the Rhine thus proceeded:—