River Legends; Or, Father Thames and Father Rhine
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, the {042}hard 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 escape
From 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 words {043}of 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 he
{044}might 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 you {045}to 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, {046}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.
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, {047}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.
This {048}was 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