River Legends; Or, Father Thames and Father Rhine
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.
Hundreds {026}upon 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 made
his home.
It {027}was evident to Smith that the sacrifice, whatever it that
{028}not 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 still
Rest ye here, and all the while
Forest demons work their will?
Barren lie your hungry fields,
Yielding nought for human food,
While your spirit tamely yields
To the Tyrant of the Wood.
Hear the Future! To the gods
While libations Druids pour,
Britain’s Oak to ruin nods,
Rotten to the very core!
Craven spirits fear and hide
From the devastating foe.
Can the gods be satisfied
With a race of cowards? No!
What the mighty gods inspire
Bertha to her race imparts.
Hear ye all! the gods require
Stalwart arms and valiant hearts.
All the blood of victims slain
Never can your country save,
Till that country you sustain
With the daring of the brave.
Yet are ye no craven race;
If yourselves ye learn’d to know,
Never would ye turn your face
From 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 below
Stands a man of courage true,
And I see a light I know
Flashing from his eye of blue.
‘Tis the light of valiant strength,
And its flash reveals to me
That the hour is near at length
When my people shall be free;
Free from terror and from yoke
Of the sanguinary Boar.
Let the hero strike the stroke;
Ye are free for evermore!”
The {029}Priestess 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! {030}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 toad
Unite 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 earnestly {031}at 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
of {032}the 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; and {033}having 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, and _did_ happen 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