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:

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:

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:

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:—

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.

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:

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.