CHAPTER VI

THE BOAR’S HEAD

There is a feature in the Alfred Jewel which appears to support the

theory propounded in the last chapter. I mean the Boar’s Head, which

is so wrought into the composition of the piece as to represent a

subordinate, or even a servile, relation to the saintly Figure which

is seen through the window of crystal.

About the creature indicated by this head there has been some

diversity of opinion. It has been spoken of as the head of a serpent,

of a fish, of a dolphin, and strangest of all, it has been called the

head of a griffin. Of these notions the last is the one that has been

oftenest repeated, and yet it is the most absurd. No doubt the griffin

has been variously described, nevertheless it is generally agreed that

the head of this fabulous animal is either that of an eagle or that

of a lion.

Many years ago, as I happened, in company with Dr. Liddon, to be

passing the entrance of the Ashmolean Museum—the old original building

by the Sheldonian Theatre—I asked him whether he had ever seen the

Alfred Jewel. He had not, and he manifested some alacrity and we went

in. It was naturally my part to act the showman, and I did it with

a will, which was quickened by an interested motive. I set forth

all my best exegesis of every part, except one—I left the animal’s

head unnoticed. The old doubt about the nature of this head had been

recently revived, and I lay in wait for testimony undesigned. I had

the satisfaction of hearing my companion remark interrogatively, ‘That

appears to be a boar’s head?’

Between the wild boar and the helmet there existed a close and

recognized association, as is well attested by the _Beowulf_, which

is our chief voice from the heroic age of Teutonic antiquity. In the

course of that poem there are no less than five passages in which

this habitual association of ideas stands out prominently. The first

passage is where Beowulf and his companions have reached the Danish

coast and stepped ashore and parleyed with the coast-warden, and

obtained his approval of their visit and his offer of guidance to

Hrothgar’s Court. As they set forth on their march inland, the poet

notices the play of the sunlight glancing from the boar-figures on

their helmets:

301 301

Gewiton him þâ fêran Forth on the march they fared

—flota stille bâd, —the floater reposing,

seomode on sæ̂le, wearing on her cable,

sîd-fæðmed scip, the wide-bosomed ship,

on ancre fæst. at anchor fast.

Eoferlic scionon Boar-figures shone

ofer hleor-bergan; over the cheek-plates;

gehroden golde as chequered with gold

fâh and fŷr-heard defiant and fire-hard

ferh wearde heold. the farrow kept ward.

The second passage occurs in the course of the Lay of Hnæf, which is

inserted among the festivities that follow Beowulf’s success against

Grendel, as being sung by the minstrel in Hrothgar’s hall. In the

story of the Lay there is a fight, and that is followed by the burning

of the dead, and here the poet notices the arms which are consumed

with their owners. In the short quotation which follows, the coat of

mail is called a sark, and the helmet is indicated by its crest, which

was a boar of hard iron plated with gold:

1111 1111

æt þæm âde wæs At the place of the pile

êð-gesŷne was plain to behold

swât-fâh syrce, the sark blood-stained,

swîn eal-gylden, the gilded swine-crest,

eofer îren-heard. the boar of hard iron.

The third passage presents us with an incidental description of the

terrors of a hand-to-hand fight between armed champions, and it

pictures a trial of strength between the tough steel of the flashing

sword and the hard iron of the boar on the helmet:

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þonne heoru bunden When the hafted halberd

hamere geþuren, hammer-toughened,

sweord swâte fâh, the sword battle-spotted,

swîn ofer helme at the swine on the helmet

ecgum dyhtig with urgent edge

andweard scîreð. smites importunate.

The first success of Beowulf having left an avenger alive, it becomes

necessary for the hero, in pursuance of his pledged war against the

monster brood, to dive all-armed to the bottom of an awful mere. In

our fourth quotation he is seen arming himself and preparing to plunge

into the abyss; the main pieces of his armour are described, and of

his helmet it is said as follows:—

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ac se hwîta helm But the burnished helmet

hafelan werede, his head to protect,

se þe mere-grundas in the murky mere

mengan scolde, was now to be merged,

sêcan sund-gebland in the swirl of the swimmer

since geweorðad, all its sumptuous array,

befangen frea-wrasnum fringed with lordly filigree

swa hine fyrn-dagum as in far-away days

worhte wæpna-smið, by weapon-smith ’twas wrought,

wundrum teode and wondrously dight,

besette swîn-lîcum beset with figures swine-like

þæ̂t hine siððan nô that on it ever since

brond nê beado-mêcas no brand or blade of war

bîtan ne meahton. had any power to bite.

These closing lines recall the remarkable passage of Tacitus, where

he says that the Æstii (Esthonians) venerate the mother of the gods,

and that they wear figures of the wild boar as the emblem of her

cult, and that this observance alone suffices without arms offensive

or defensive to make her votary feel secure even in the midst of

enemies[15].

The mother of the gods may be identified, or at least proximately

equated, with FRIGE, the consort of Woden, whose name survives in

the sixth day of the week, Friday; FRIGE-DÆG. A survival of her cult

is seen in the festive ceremony of the Boar’s Head, which is kept up

in Queen’s College, Oxford, adding a mystic incident to the mirth of

Christmas.

Caput apri defero,

Reddens laudes Domino.

The boar’s head in hand bring I,

With garlands gay and rosemary.

Our fifth example occurs in a passage eminently characteristic of the

heroic age, when the institutions of monarchy rested upon the personal

devotion of the thane to the king. This relation is one of great

historical consequence; it was to grow into the later institution

of knighthood; it had been matured by that immemorial tradition of

sacred confidence and fidelity between the war-chief and his companion

in arms, which is signalized by Tacitus in words familiar to the

modern historian. The passage which I am about to quote exhibits this

devotion in concrete act. Beowulf, the hero of the poem, has returned

successful from his adventure, and he is fulfilling his first duty by

rendering a report to Hygelac his king. His speech is closing with

mention of rich guerdon he had received from the king whom he had

delivered, namely, Hrothgar, son of Halfdan; and then he produces the

noblest of these prizes as a dutiful offering to his lord. This scene

constitutes a frame to our last instance of the boar-figure as the

most signal feature in a warrior’s headgear:

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“Swa se þeod kyning “So in fair customs lived

þeawum lyfde; the imperial king;

nealles ic þam leanum nor of fitting guerdon I

forloren hæfde, was aught forlorn,

mægnes mêde— of meed for service—

ac he me mâdmas geaf, yea, mighty things he gave,

sunu Healfdenes, did Halfdan’s son,

on minne sylfes dôm; myself withal to please;

þâ ic þê, beorn-cyning, which I to thee, brave prince,

bringan wylle, by choice do bring,

êstum geŷwan. in willing homage.

Gên is eall æt þê All my wealth proceeds

lissa gelong: of thy good lordship:

ic lŷt hafo nor is my lot to have

heafod-mâga, kinsman of chief account,

nefne Hygelâc þec!” king Hygelac, but thee!”

Hêt þa in beran Then bade he in to bear

eafor heafod-segn, the wild-boar crest,

heaðo-steapne helm, the helm in fight so high,

hâre byrnan, the hoary mail-coat gray,

gûð-sweord geatolic— the sword seigneurial—

gyd æfter wræc: and he said withal:

“Mê þis hilde-sceorp “To me this battle-harness

Hrôðgâr sealde, Hrothgar gave,

snotra fengel...” the sapient monarch” &c.

In the evidence above given we see indications that this traditional

choice of the wild boar for a crest was of high antiquity, and had

its origin in a religious sentiment, and our fourth passage (1449

ff.) certainly conveys the idea that the armourer who wrought at the

furniture of the helmet did so with a mind still under the spell of

the old persuasion that a mystic sanction clung to the figure of the

wild boar, and qualified it for its time-honoured post as guardian of

the warrior’s head.

In the Alfred Jewel the Boar’s Head appears to discharge a double

function: one subservient, as affording a base or pedestal to the

frame of the sacred effigy; the other servile, as a socket for the

shaft whereby the elaborate and composite design is to be fixed in its

destined place.

[15] ‘Matrem deûm venerantur. Insigne superstitionis formas aprorum

gestant: id pro armis omnique tutelâ securum deæ cultorem etiam

inter hostes præstat.’ _Germania_, 45.

The Alfred Jewel: An Historical Essay · 第 6 / 11 章