It may be assumed therefore, agreeably to the views of Dr. Johnson, that the Norman conquest had no _immediate_ effect on the language of the Anglo-Saxons. It remains then to inquire in what manner the influence of that event was felt at a more distant period, viz.: about a century afterwards, during the reigns of John and Richard Cœur de Lion, the period during which the intermingling of the Norman and Saxon races and tongues is believed to have been consummated. During this period also, we possess the guidance of a great master, who has embodied all the philosophy of this subject in a few pathetic words which he has put into the mouth of a jester.(33) “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 by the heels, like a traitor?” “Pork,” answered the swineherd. “I am very glad every fool knows that too,” said Wamba, “and Pork, I think, is good Norman-French; and so when the brute lives, and is in the charge of a Saxon slave, she goes by her Saxon name; but becomes a Norman, and is called Pork, when she is carried to the Castle-hall to feast among the nobles. What dost thou think of this, friend Gurth, ha?” “It is but too true doctrine, friend Wamba, however it got into thy fool’s pate!” “Nay, I can tell you more,” said Wamba, in the same tone. “There is old Alderman Ox continues to hold his Saxon epithet, while he is under the charge of serfs and bondmen such as thou, but becomes Beef, a fiery French gallant, when he arrives before the worshipful jaws that are destined to consume him. ‘Mynheer Calf,’ too, becomes ‘Monsieur de Veau,’ in the like manner: he is Saxon when he requires tendance, and takes a Norman name when he becomes matter of enjoyment.”