ariondas/full_text_dataset · Datasets at Hugging Face

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one of the fallen Druidical monuments, a person about ten years younger
in appearance, and whose dress, though resembling his companion's in
form, was of better materials, and of a more fantastic appearance. His
jacket had been stained of a bright purple hue, upon which there had
been some attempt to paint grotesque ornaments in different colours. To
the jacket he added a short cloak, which scarcely reached half way down
his thigh; it was of crimson cloth, though a good deal soiled, lined
with bright yellow; and as he could transfer it from one shoulder to the
other, or at his pleasure draw it all around him, its width, contrasted
with its want of longitude, formed a fantastic piece of drapery. He had
thin silver bracelets upon his arms, and on his neck a collar of the
same metal bearing the inscription, "Wamba, the son of Witless, is the
thrall of Cedric of Rotherwood." This personage had the same sort of
sandals with his companion, but instead of the roll of leather thong,
his legs were cased in a sort of gaiters, of which one was red and the
other yellow. He was provided also with a cap, having around it more
than one bell, about the size of those attached to hawks, which jingled
as he turned his head to one side or other; and as he seldom remained a
minute in the same posture, the sound might be considered as incessant.
Around the edge of this cap was a stiff bandeau of leather, cut at the
top into open work, resembling a coronet, while a prolonged bag arose
from within it, and fell down on one shoulder like an old-fashioned
nightcap, or a jelly-bag, or the head-gear of a modern hussar. It was to
this part of the cap that the bells were attached; which circumstance,
as well as the shape of his head-dress, and his own half-crazed,
half-cunning expression of countenance, sufficiently pointed him out as
belonging to the race of domestic clowns or jesters, maintained in the
houses of the wealthy, to help away the tedium of those lingering
hours which they were obliged to spend within doors. He bore, like
his companion, a scrip, attached to his belt, but had neither horn nor
knife, being probably considered as belonging to a class whom it is
esteemed dangerous to intrust with edge-tools. In place of these, he
was equipped with a sword of lath, resembling that with which Harlequin
operates his wonders upon the modern stage.

The outward appearance of these two men formed scarce a stronger
contrast than their look and demeanour. That of the serf, or bondsman,
was sad and sullen; his aspect was bent on the ground with an appearance
of deep dejection, which might be almost construed into apathy, had
not the fire which occasionally sparkled in his red eye manifested that
there slumbered, under the appearance of sullen despondency, a sense of
oppression, and a disposition to resistance. The looks of Wamba, on
the other hand, indicated, as usual with his class, a sort of vacant
curiosity, and fidgetty impatience of any posture of repose, together
with the utmost self-satisfaction respecting his own situation, and the
appearance which he made. The dialogue which they maintained between
them, was carried on in Anglo-Saxon, which, as we said before, was
universally spoken by the inferior classes, excepting the Norman
soldiers, and the immediate personal dependants of the great feudal
nobles. But to give their conversation in the original would convey but
little information to the modern reader, for whose benefit we beg to
offer the following translation:

"The curse of St Withold upon these infernal porkers!" said the
swine-herd, after blowing his horn obstreperously, to collect together
the scattered herd of swine, which, answering his call with notes
equally melodious, made, however, no haste to remove themselves from the
luxurious banquet of beech-mast and acorns on which they had fattened,
or to forsake the marshy banks of the rivulet, where several of them,
half plunged in mud, lay stretched at their ease, altogether regardless
of the voice of their keeper. "The curse of St Withold upon them and
upon me!" said Gurth; "if the two-legged wolf snap not up some of them
ere nightfall, I am no true man. Here, Fangs! Fangs!" he ejaculated at
the top of his voice to a ragged wolfish-looking dog, a sort of lurcher,
half mastiff, half greyhound, which ran limping about as if with the
purpose of seconding his master in collecting the refractory grunters;
but which, in fact, from misapprehension of the swine-herd's signals,
ignorance of his own duty, or malice prepense, only drove them hither
and thither, and increased the evil which he seemed to design to remedy.
"A devil draw the teeth of him," said Gurth, "and the mother of mischief
confound the Ranger of the forest, that cuts the foreclaws off our dogs,
and makes them unfit for their trade! [8] Wamba, up and help me an thou
be'st a man; take a turn round the back o' the hill to gain the wind
on them; and when thous't got the weather-gage, thou mayst drive them
before thee as gently as so many innocent lambs."

"Truly," said Wamba, without stirring from the spot, "I have consulted
my legs upon this matter, and they are altogether of opinion, that
to carry my gay garments through these sloughs, would be an act of
unfriendship to my sovereign person and royal wardrobe; wherefore,
Gurth, I advise thee to call off Fangs, and leave the herd to their
destiny, which, whether they meet with bands of travelling soldiers,
or of outlaws, or of wandering pilgrims, can be little else than to
be converted into Normans before morning, to thy no small ease and
comfort."

"The swine turned Normans to my comfort!" quoth Gurth; "expound that
to me, Wamba, for my brain is too dull, and my mind too vexed, to read
riddles."

"Why, how call you those grunting brutes running about on their four
legs?" demanded Wamba.

"Swine, fool, swine," said the herd, "every fool knows that."

"And swine is good Saxon," said the Jester; "but how call you the sow
when she is flayed, and drawn, and quartered, and hung up by the heels,
like a traitor?"

"Pork," answered the swine-herd.

one of the fallen Druidical monuments, a person about ten years younger

in appearance, and whose dress, though resembling his companion's in

form, was of better materials, and of a more fantastic appearance. His

jacket had been stained of a bright purple hue, upon which there had

been some attempt to paint grotesque ornaments in different colours. To

the jacket he added a short cloak, which scarcely reached half way down

his thigh; it was of crimson cloth, though a good deal soiled, lined

with bright yellow; and as he could transfer it from one shoulder to the

other, or at his pleasure draw it all around him, its width, contrasted

with its want of longitude, formed a fantastic piece of drapery. He had

thin silver bracelets upon his arms, and on his neck a collar of the

same metal bearing the inscription, "Wamba, the son of Witless, is the

thrall of Cedric of Rotherwood." This personage had the same sort of

sandals with his companion, but instead of the roll of leather thong,

his legs were cased in a sort of gaiters, of which one was red and the

other yellow. He was provided also with a cap, having around it more

than one bell, about the size of those attached to hawks, which jingled

as he turned his head to one side or other; and as he seldom remained a

minute in the same posture, the sound might be considered as incessant.

Around the edge of this cap was a stiff bandeau of leather, cut at the

top into open work, resembling a coronet, while a prolonged bag arose

from within it, and fell down on one shoulder like an old-fashioned

nightcap, or a jelly-bag, or the head-gear of a modern hussar. It was to

this part of the cap that the bells were attached; which circumstance,

as well as the shape of his head-dress, and his own half-crazed,

half-cunning expression of countenance, sufficiently pointed him out as

belonging to the race of domestic clowns or jesters, maintained in the

houses of the wealthy, to help away the tedium of those lingering

hours which they were obliged to spend within doors. He bore, like

his companion, a scrip, attached to his belt, but had neither horn nor

knife, being probably considered as belonging to a class whom it is

esteemed dangerous to intrust with edge-tools. In place of these, he

was equipped with a sword of lath, resembling that with which Harlequin

operates his wonders upon the modern stage.

The outward appearance of these two men formed scarce a stronger

contrast than their look and demeanour. That of the serf, or bondsman,

was sad and sullen; his aspect was bent on the ground with an appearance

of deep dejection, which might be almost construed into apathy, had

not the fire which occasionally sparkled in his red eye manifested that

there slumbered, under the appearance of sullen despondency, a sense of

oppression, and a disposition to resistance. The looks of Wamba, on

the other hand, indicated, as usual with his class, a sort of vacant

curiosity, and fidgetty impatience of any posture of repose, together

with the utmost self-satisfaction respecting his own situation, and the

appearance which he made. The dialogue which they maintained between

them, was carried on in Anglo-Saxon, which, as we said before, was

universally spoken by the inferior classes, excepting the Norman

soldiers, and the immediate personal dependants of the great feudal

nobles. But to give their conversation in the original would convey but

little information to the modern reader, for whose benefit we beg to

offer the following translation:

"The curse of St Withold upon these infernal porkers!" said the

swine-herd, after blowing his horn obstreperously, to collect together

the scattered herd of swine, which, answering his call with notes

equally melodious, made, however, no haste to remove themselves from the

luxurious banquet of beech-mast and acorns on which they had fattened,

or to forsake the marshy banks of the rivulet, where several of them,

half plunged in mud, lay stretched at their ease, altogether regardless

of the voice of their keeper. "The curse of St Withold upon them and

upon me!" said Gurth; "if the two-legged wolf snap not up some of them

ere nightfall, I am no true man. Here, Fangs! Fangs!" he ejaculated at

the top of his voice to a ragged wolfish-looking dog, a sort of lurcher,

half mastiff, half greyhound, which ran limping about as if with the

purpose of seconding his master in collecting the refractory grunters;

but which, in fact, from misapprehension of the swine-herd's signals,

ignorance of his own duty, or malice prepense, only drove them hither

and thither, and increased the evil which he seemed to design to remedy.

"A devil draw the teeth of him," said Gurth, "and the mother of mischief

confound the Ranger of the forest, that cuts the foreclaws off our dogs,

and makes them unfit for their trade! [8] Wamba, up and help me an thou

be'st a man; take a turn round the back o' the hill to gain the wind

on them; and when thous't got the weather-gage, thou mayst drive them

before thee as gently as so many innocent lambs."

"Truly," said Wamba, without stirring from the spot, "I have consulted

my legs upon this matter, and they are altogether of opinion, that

to carry my gay garments through these sloughs, would be an act of

unfriendship to my sovereign person and royal wardrobe; wherefore,

Gurth, I advise thee to call off Fangs, and leave the herd to their

destiny, which, whether they meet with bands of travelling soldiers,

or of outlaws, or of wandering pilgrims, can be little else than to

be converted into Normans before morning, to thy no small ease and

comfort."

"The swine turned Normans to my comfort!" quoth Gurth; "expound that

to me, Wamba, for my brain is too dull, and my mind too vexed, to read

riddles."

"Why, how call you those grunting brutes running about on their four

legs?" demanded Wamba.

"Swine, fool, swine," said the herd, "every fool knows that."

"And swine is good Saxon," said the Jester; "but how call you the sow

when she is flayed, and drawn, and quartered, and hung up by the heels,

like a traitor?"

"Pork," answered the swine-herd.