River Legends; Or, Father Thames and Father Rhine
Smith made his home; and often did I see him in those old days, sporting
with his strange playmates among the roots of the gigantic trees which
grew down to my very water’s edge, sometimes playing leap-frog, at other
moments hopping races, and not unfrequently reclining by the side of one
of the worthy toads, his arm thrown around it, and its body serving as a
resting-place for his infant head and shoulders.
From these strange instructors did little Smith receive an education
which fitted him for the career which {018}he had chalked out for
himself. From them he learned more than ordinary mortals could have
taught him; and meanwhile the wholesome and quiet life which he led in
the forest caused him to increase daily in bodily strength, so that he
bid fair to rival Hercules before he arrived at manhood.
All this time the Boar continued to pursue his ravages unchecked and
unmolested, and had become more than ever the terror of the surrounding
country. In vain did the Druids denounce him: the more they cursed the
more he seemed to prosper, and the whole framework of society was shaken
by this terrible animal, The effect, moreover, {019}throughout the whole
island, was the reverse of agreeable.
We have noticed, in the struggles of mankind for supremacy, that when
one particular nation has obtained, whether by good fortune or good
organization, great military successes, it sometimes happens that the
citizens of that nation become puffed up and insolent beyond measure,
considering that the mere fact of belonging to that victorious country
stamps a man (however intellectually poor or morally imbecile) as
something superior to his fellow-creatures, and gives him a right to
be as rude and disagreeable as he pleases. Such was at this time the
precise result of the Boar’s undiminished power. Every pig in the island
thought himself far superior to any other animal. The insolence of
Pigdom became rapidly intolerable; these unpleasant animals thrust their
snouts into everybody else’s dish, and England was threatened with a
porcine yoke which would inevitably have interfered with that great
future which she was destined to achieve in afteryears. However, England
has never been without her Smith in the hour of danger, and this, the
first individual of that illustrious name, set the example which his
descendants, have so often followed.
Having formed the noble determination to free his country or perish in
the attempt, he next determined to avoid the latter alternative if he
possibly could. The manner in which he should proceed required, indeed,
his most careful consideration. Instructed as he had been in magic arts
by the excellent toads, he knew full well that he had to cope with
an adversary who was said to be able to fight with the same weapons.
Caution, {020}therefore, as well as skill, was certainly necessary, and
his first object was to discover the extent of the enemy’s power, and
whether there existed any means by which it could be lessened. To
do this, however, it was necessary to employ some spy to obtain
intelligence upon which reliance might be placed.
No mortal had ever dared to penetrate the lair of the great Boar; and
those who wished to hear him grunt had never ventured to do more than
creep, with stealthy step and timorous aspect, on the outer verge of
the great thicket which he had been seen to enter after his marauding
excursions. Nor, indeed, was it easy to find any four-footed animal who
would undertake the task. The wolves and foxes, of which there were a
very great number in Windsor Forest, respectfully but firmly declined;
the hares and rabbits squeaked and ran away at the very idea; and the
stoats and weasels declared that it was no business of theirs, and they
could not interfere in such matters. Then there were the birds; but
these simple creatures have always had a horror of magic and witchcraft,
and there was nothing to be done with _them._ The tender wood-pigeons
coo’d out their reluctance to dabble with anything which was not pure
and holy and loving; the robin pretended not to hear, and sang his
morning hymn with a provoking vehemence whilst Smith was accosting him;
the owl shook her head gravely and gave vent to a low hoot of determined
refusal; while the gaudy jays flew away laughing and shrieking in a most
impertinent manner, which left no hope of their compliance.
Thus baffled in his first attempt, Smith once more consulted the toads,
and asked the oldest and wisest of them {021}for his advice, which was
promptly given. “The Foul Swine,” said he, “is not the great magician
which he pretends. His tusks are long and his years many, but there are
those within and without the forest more powerful than he. Your task
is certainly one of some difficulty. Nevertheless, there is an ancient
proverb well known among us toads which will be of great use to you,
and which we are bound never to repeat to mortal ear save under certain
conditions. The first of these is, that the mortal to whom we may repeat
it must have passed at least half his life with our own people, and have
learned to speak the toad language like a native. As you have now passed
considerably more than the prescribed period among us, and (except
perhaps as regards spitting) are in all respects a regular toad, this
first condition has evidently been fulfilled in your case. The second
condition requires that the person to whom the proverb shall be imparted
must have rendered service to the toad people by killing at least
twenty of our natural enemies, the snakes. This service you have yet to
perform. The third condition simply stipulates that the individual
in question shall bind himself by the most solemn oath known to
toads--namely, by the eyes of the two golden toads which sit day and
night at the foot of the throne of the Emperor of China--that he
will set himself strenuously to perform the task to which the proverb
alludes. About this you will probably find no difficulty, and therefore
it is really only with the second condition that you need trouble
yourself at all.”
Smith listened with great attention to the remarks made by his ancient
friend, and lost no time in qualifying {022}himself to be the recipient
of the desired information by destroying the requisite number of
snakes. That very evening his art as a snake-charmer was so successfully
practised, that more than fifty of the creatures lay twisting and
writhing in front of the toads’ favourite trees, and were presently
dispatched by vigorous blows from the stalwart arm of Smith.
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 was {023}none 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 slain
Must together blended be
Ere the Boar’s detested reign
Cease, 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 would {024}have 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 in {025}the 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,