Produced by David Widger (This file was produced from
images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
RIVER LEGENDS
OR FATHER THAMES AND FATHER RHINE
By E. H. Knatchbull-Hugessen
With Illustrations By Gustave Doré
1875
LIST OF ENGRAVINGS.
FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS.
Hans and his Prisoner................Frontispiece
The Baron’s Oath.....To face page.............107
The Father of all Giants......................140
Powle’s Advance on the Castle.................242
TEXT ILLUSTRATIONS.
Father Thames and Father Rhine................003
The Messenger.................................005
Father Thames after his Ale...................006
The Boar......................................008
The Boar’s Family.............................010
The Infant Smith..............................013
The Sacrifice of Smith’s Father...............015
Smith in Toad-land............................018
The Snakes....................................022
Bertha the Druidess...........................027
The Road into the Forest......................035
The Last of the Boar..........................046
The Baroness and her back hair................056
Father Rhine and his Elves....................059
The River-Demon Thief.........................064
The Greedy Child..............................067
The Devilet...................................072
Martha rousing the Peasants...................078
Father Rhine and the three Baronesses.........081
The Swan-sisters..............................084
Crazy Timothy.................................092
The Old Harper................................097
She keeps the Pigs............................115
She watches the Battle........................132
Giants Mountain-building......................143
Bramble-buffer Storm-making...................148
He uproots the Tree...........................153
Hans sent aloft...............................163
Hans in the Giant’s Mouth.....................166
The Mouth Fortified...........................167
The Giant weeps...............................170
The Giant’s Release...........................173
The Castle....................................181
Mannikins at Play.............................187
Goody Tickleback’s Steed......................188
Flight of the Witches.........................202
The Sea-serpent...............................225
Father Rhine’s Retreat........................252
{001}
RIVER LEGENDS
OR
FATHER THAMES AND FATHER RHINE
I HAD been down to spend a summer’s day at Eton. Dear old Eton! There is
no place where a summer’s day can be more happily spent, especially by
those to whom the spot is hallowed by the memory of boyish days. The
“playing-fields” are delightful, in spite of the passage through the
same being a service of danger when cricket-balls whiz recklessly past
your ear, and a courteous “thank you!” invites your hand to restore to
its owner the engine which has nearly broken your head. “Poet’s Walk”
is charming, although its memories may not be entirely pleasant if you
chance in your boyhood to have been “fag” to some “sixth-form”
master whose tea you had to carry out to that pleasant resort. The
“school-yard” also is not without its recommendations, though when one
has attained the mature age of forty-five one feels rather as if one had
no business there, standing among a crowd of fellows of a younger and
happier age, the only idler among the number.
On {002}the particular day of which I speak, I had rambled about
with those boys I knew, gathered as much pleasure as I could from
the memories which clung around the precincts of the old college, and
afterwards strolled out along the banks of the river in the direction of
Surly. The weather being rather hot, although evening was approaching,
I thought it well to halt in the immediate neighbourhood of Surly Hall,
and having seated myself in the shadiest place I could find, began to
think over the various “Fourths of June” and “Election Saturdays” which
I had witnessed in that famous locality, until I not unnaturally fell
fast asleep. I do not know how long I remained in this comfortable
state, but I was suddenly aroused by the sound of voices, and
immediately opened my eyes and looked around to discover the quarter
from which they proceeded. It was not long before I was enlightened upon
this point.
Nearly opposite the spot upon which I had seated myself was a little
island in the very middle of the river, dividing the water which flowed
on each side of it and left it high and dry. This island was of no great
size, and, I should imagine, of no great value either, being covered
with reeds and willows, and apparently fit for nothing except to afford
shelter to moor-hens and water-rats, which creatures probably found
it an exceedingly convenient habitation. Upon the present occasion,
however, beings of a different nature altogether appeared to have taken
possession of the island. At a plain deal table were seated two ancient
individuals of kingly and majestic mien. He who sat at the end of the
table wore a white beard of mighty size, which streamed downward to his
waist; whilst his companion, who {003}sat at his right hand, and was of
a dark and swarthy complexion, boasted but little beard, but made up
for the deficiency by the size and length of the black appendages which
adorned his upper lip. Each of these two kings (for such the crowns upon
their heads betokened them to be, and the regal dignity of their general
appearance gave further proof of their condition) grasped in his hand a
tumbler which was apparently full of liquor more potent than the water
which flowed around them, whilst a huge pewter pot (which constituted
the only other furniture of their table) bore witness to the quarter
from whence their potations had been supplied.
[Illustration: 016]
As I regarded these two strange beings with an astonishment not
altogether unmixed with reverential awe (for I saw at once that they
were more than ordinary mortals), he at the end of the table broke
silence, and striking his fist upon the board in an emphatic manner,
thus addressed his companion: “Brother Rhine!” {004}said he, “welcome to
old England. Thames gives thee hearty welcome.” The other gravely bowed
his head in acknowledgment of this cordial speech, but uttered no word
in reply, and methought I perceived upon his royal countenance some
signs such as appear upon the face of a passenger between Dover and
Calais whom the ocean has rudely shaken. Father Thames (for as such I
instinctively recognised the first speaker) appeared to make a somewhat
similar observation, for he forthwith addressed his friend a second time
in these words: “What aileth thee, Brother Rhine? Lovest thou not this
change of climate, or dost thou fear that thy waters will overflow or
thy tributary streams rebel during thy brief absence?”
He who was thus accosted smiled grimly, and stroked his dark moustache
as he made answer: “Neither the one nor the other, Brother Thames. It
is but thine English ale which is somewhat more potent than my native
drink. But, craving thy pardon, the matter will soon be set right. A
trusty messenger should by this time be arriving with a supply of mine
own Rhine wine, and I would fain have thee try the vintage.”
The countenance of Father Thames visibly darkened. “I forsake not mine
ale,” said he gloomily. “It gladdens the heart and strengthens the frame
more than the juice of grape.”
“And yet,” replied the other, “there are merry hearts, strong frames,
and brave spirits in plenty upon my banks; and thus it has ever been, as
many an old legend can well bear witness.”
“Doubtless,” responded Father Thames, though still somewhat moodily.
“But yet for legends and stories of {005}the olden time my river lacketh
not a good supply, nor are British hearts less merry or British spirits
less brave than those of whom thou makest thy boast.”
[Illustration: 018]
“I doubt it not, I doubt it not,” rejoined the monarch of the Rhine.
“But see, here comes my messenger!” As he spoke, I looked up and beheld
an enormous eagle, carrying a huge silver flagon in his beak and another
in each of his claws, and hovering immediately over the heads of the two
kings. Presently he alighted, deposited his precious burdens upon the
table directly in front of the Rhine king, and obediently waited for
orders {006}behind his master. The latter lost no time in hesitation
over his course of procedure. Taking up the vessel from which he had
recently drank, he dipped it several times in the running water at his
feet until all traces of the ale had disappeared, then, filling it
full with sparkling wine from one of the flagons before him, he looked
steadily at his companion, gravely inclined his head towards him, and
then tossed off his liquor with an air of supreme satisfaction, and
replaced his tumbler upon the table.
[Illustration: 019]
Father Thames meanwhile had not been idle. Whilst his brother king
was thus engaged, he had drawn the pewter pot nearer to himself and
replenished his tumbler with foaming ale. “Your health, Brother Rhine,”
he shouted in a stentorian voice, and winking one eye in a peculiar but
not unpleasant manner, he drained his glass to the dregs. A change at
once appeared to come over his countenance--it positively sparkled with
fun; a species of light appeared to play around his head as if the rays
of the sun had come to give a parting radiance to his crown before they
retired for the night. His whole face beamed with internal and intense
satisfaction, and once more striking his hand on the table, he spoke
thus: “Brother Rhine, we have each his own liquor and each his own
river. Let {007}each enjoy his own! Live and let live. But whilst we sit
here so happily, let us while away the time by recounting some of the
legends for which our banks are so famous, and of which we each have a
good store.”
“Agreed!” cried he of the Rhine; “and as thou hast proposed the pastime,
Brother Thames, do thou begin.” Thus adjured, Father Thames, having
previously filled and emptied his tumbler once more, cleared his throat
and commenced the history of--
THE GREAT BOAR OF WINDSOR FOREST
I need scarcely tell you that England was not always what it is to-day,
and that the advance of time has wrought very considerable changes in
the scenery of the country through which the waters of the Thames hold
their course. The river which bears my name now washes fertile shores
which were once barren plains, and pleasant towns and smiling meadows
have replaced wild thickets and dense forests. I suppose there never
was a more delightful forest than that of which Windsor can boast. When
mortals speak of Windsor Forest, they generally associate therewith the
name of Herne the Hunter, who was quite a character in his way, had an
oak of his own, and has had more than one very readable story written
about him. But Herne the Hunter is quite a modern hero compared with
those of whom I am about to tell you. I speak of old, very old days,
and if I do not give you the exact date when the events occurred which I
shall presently relate, it is only because I haven’t the least idea
what that {008}date may have been. But, be it what you will, it is an
undoubted fact that long, long ago there was a forest which stretched
down to the very edge of my river near to this particular spot, and this
forest was the abode of many strange and incomprehensible beings.
[Illustration: 021]
Perhaps the most curious and most disagreeable of these in the days
I speak of was a personage familiarly termed the Wild {009}Boar of
Windsor. This creature was of enormous size and strength, and was
generally acknowledged as the king of his tribe.
Wild boars were at that time numerous in England, and I believe, if the
truth were known, that fairies and Fairyland power had much to do with
their existence. That power has passed away now, or at least has so
greatly diminished that, although there are plenty of persons left who
may be correctly described by a word which sounds exactly like the name
of the animal in question, yet the fairies have nothing to do with
this. Magic power no longer converts the objects of its wrath into brute
beasts or hideous monsters, as was frequently the case in the good old
times of which I speak. Whether the Wild Boar in question was the victim
of some such vengeance, or whether he had always been what he appeared
in those days, it is not necessary to inquire. Anyhow, he was certainly
more than mortal. He had apparently the gift of prophecy, for his grunts
were often repeated by his subservient followers as having foretold
subsequent events with singular accuracy, and he was not unfrequently
sought out by persons who desired to be acquainted beforehand with
future events, which has in all ages been a foolish weakness to which
human nature has been subject.
This Boar had a numerous family, who were daily fed out of silver
dishes, sitting all in a row and eating with as much decorum as could be
expected. It is not, however, of his family or domestic life that I am
about to tell you to-day, but of the extraordinary events which occurred
in connection with the efforts made by mankind to rid themselves of this
exceedingly troublesome creature. {010}For although, as I have already
said, the ignorant peasants of the neighbourhood held the Boar in great
reverence, and used to creep timidly into the forest in search of the
knowledge which he was said to possess, and which _they_ certainly
lacked, there were others who regarded the kingly Boar as an unmitigated
nuisance. This was scarcely wonderful, since he and his tribe had the
most unpleasant habit of issuing forth from the forest, and devastating
the country far and wide, making everybody as uncomfortable as possible.
[Illustration: 023]
Ever since I have known this country, which is now a good many years
ago, the people who inhabit it have liked to be as comfortable as they
could be, especially when living quietly in their own homes, intrusion
into which they have always greatly resented. “An Englishman’s house is
his castle” is a very old proverb amongst them, and they have a strong
attachment to the particular localities in which they have been bom and
bred. So that when this Boar ravaged right and left, {011}respected no
man’s castle, uprooted everybody’s crops, and made himself generally
disagreeable, it was quite natural that the worthy people who suffered
from his depredations should feel exceedingly annoyed. After a while,
this annoyance took the form of an earnest desire to get rid of
the monster. The question, however, of the means to be employed to
accomplish this desirable result was by no means easy of solution. To
dig pits, such as were in those days commonly used for the destruction
of wild animals, would have been an utterly useless proceeding when
employed against a creature of such supernatural sagacity. Guns had not
been invented; no dog could be found strong and fierce enough to attack
the monster; and the more the poor people thought of the matter the more
hopeless did their case appear. Law and order were not then what they
are now, and there existed no county constabulary to whom, in the
present day, the business would at once be referred with a perfect
certainty that the wrong-doer would be forthwith arrested and punished.
Nor had the pious founder of Eton College as yet existed, or doubtless
aid would have been sought by the sufferers from the provost and fellows
of that famous abode of learning. Their prayers at least would have been
invoked, for these saintly men have always been persons of great age,
profound wisdom, and extreme piety, and the only doubt might have been
lest, as the Boar had been so long in existence, they might not have
considered him as one of the institutions of their country, and declined
to take any steps against him in consequence. But, as they themselves
did not then exist, the question did not arise, and the Boar continued
supreme.
For {012}aught I know, he might have continued so down to this day but
for the circumstances which I am about to relate.
A poor woman of the neighbourhood dreamed that she was about to become
the mother of the largest family that the world had ever seen. This
being a thing which her husband, being in straitened circumstances,
deemed by no means desirable, he received the news with disgust only
tempered by disbelief, and treated his helpmate to language of a rough
and discourteous character. His frame of mind changed, however, when,
as years rolled on, one child only claimed him for its father, which
of course entitled him to sneer at his wife and her dreams as a good
husband would naturally do under such circumstances. The child, however,
was one of no ordinary description. Not only was he the largest and
most strongly made child ever seen in these parts, but he showed from an
early age a singular and precocious intelligence. Before the time when
infants are supposed to be able to convey their meaning to their friends
by intelligible utterances, a very remarkable instance of this precocity
occurred. The father and mother (whose names have not been handed down
to posterity) were discussing the future of their promising babe in his
presence, and one asked of the other the question what distinguishing
name should be given to so fine a child. The astonishment of the
parents may be imagined when the infant, suddenly sitting upright in his
mother’s lap, and steadfastly regarding his father, winked his left eye
violently, laid the first finger of his right hand against his little
nose in a confidential manner, and emphatically pronounced the word
“Smith.”
Whether {013}this proceeding was, by the powers of magic, ordered
and decreed with a view to the fulfilment of the dream of the child’s
mother, is a question upon which (like most others) various opinions may
be entertained. Certain, however, it is that the result justifies the
idea, inasmuch as the astonished parents obeyed the commands of their
offspring, and gave him that name which has since been borne by so many
of the inhabitants of this island, and of which, (despite all other
accounts bearing the stamp of probability) this child was the inventor
and founder.
[Illustration: 026]
As the babe grew older, his wondrous strength was the subject of general
remark. His favourite plaything was a club, much thicker at one end than
the other, and nearly as tall as himself. This he would brandish about
over his head to the imminent danger of the bystanders, {014}or would
lovingly encircle with his arm, leaning his head against it, as he sat
upon the ground pondering over some plans only known to himself with a
more than childish gravity.
These, you must know, were the days of the worthy Druids, who guided
the religious feelings of the country, and, as has been occasionally
the fashion of ecclesiastics in all ages, used the ignorance and
superstition of the people to establish their own authority.’Take them
all in all, I don’t know that they were worse than other priests whom I
have seen upon my banks in later ages; but they had an awkward habit of
occasionally discovering that their personal enemies were required by
the gods as a sacrifice, and thus not unfrequently managed to propitiate
their own vengeance and that of the irate deities at one and the same
moment. Smith’s father, having been unlucky enough to fall under the ban
of one of these respectable gentlemen, was sacrificed one fine
morning, in spite of all his protestations; and, his mother having died
previously, the child was left an orphan, poor and desolate. Under these
circumstances you will wonder what became of him.
There were no poor-laws, and consequently no workhouses, in those days.
“Relieving officers” were unknown, and even parish beadles had not come
into being. Indeed, if this had been the case, I should have no legend
to relate to you upon my present theme. Smith would have lived
a different life altogether. He would very likely have been the
interesting subject of discussion between several parishes, each
laudably anxious to escape being called upon to pay for his nurture and
education, who would possibly have spent in {015}the contest more than
would have fed and educated twenty Smiths.
[Illustration: 028]
Eventually he would have been consigned to the workhouse school until
he had arrived at an age when he might possibly have been able to learn
something, {016}at which moment this would very properly have been
prevented by his being transferred to the enlivening employment of
rook-keeping, from which he would have gradually risen to the position
of a day-labourer upon some neighbouring farm, unless he had evinced
sufficient intellectual ability to have aspired to the rank and dignity
of “waggoner’s mate.” This brilliant career, however, was not open to
our hero in the benighted days of which I speak. This being so, he not
unnaturally did something else. He disappeared from the eyes of the
world in a manner which would have been perfectly marvellous if there
had been anybody who cared to marvel at it. This, however, was not the
case.
The venerable Druid who had sacrificed the child’s father took no
trouble about the child, though he would probably have sacrificed him
too with the greatest pleasure had any hint been given him upon the
subject. The people who had permitted and sanctioned the deed never
gave a thought to the infant who had thereby been left destitute. Public
opinion was not in existence, and as this island had not then, as it
has now, what is popularly called “the blessing of a Free Press,”
the attention of the neighbourhood was not called to such trifling
occurrences. So Smith’s father perished and Smith disappeared, without
notice or remark from anybody. What really happened to the lad is known,
of course, to me, and is sufficiently laughable. He wandered into the
forest, and became the friend and companion of the toads, for which
Windsor has always been famous.
Now, although mortals are not generally aware of the fact, it is well
known, brother, to you and me, that toads {017}are among the wisest and
most intelligent of animals. They may be called ugly by those who only
judge of character and worth by the standard of that beauty which is
after all but skin-deep; they may be termed slimy and unpleasant by
those who cannot see below the surface; they may even be deemed stupid
by people who are unable to discern the intellectual vigour which shines
forth in the extraordinary brightness of the eye of a well-bred toad.
But, as we know full well, a toad is one of the most powerful of created
beings in his knowledge of magic and of hidden art. How many are the
buried treasures over which a toad sits as guardian, laughing to himself
at the busy mortals above who would give their eyes and ears to possess
that which is really within their reach if they did but know it!
And, apart from this peculiar point of view, how happy the life of a
well-regulated toad!--how simple his tastes; how free from care his
heart, how tranquil his existence, so long as he is permitted to enjoy
it without being stamped upon by the cruel heel of mortal, or swallowed
by the voracious mouth of snake. With the toads of the forest, then,
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.
[Illustration: 031]
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.
[Illustration: 035]
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,
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.
[Illustration: 040]
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
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 great {034}and 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 hour
To 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.