Part 2

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, 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 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.