The Wood-Spirit: a novel

Chapter I

Sad and drear is the meeting of sea and shore on the western coast of Jutland ; flattened hills of pale herhless sand stretch away on either side, as far as the eye can reach, in the same monoto nous undulation ; scarcely a trace of man is 'to be seen in that melancholy region, for the chain of sand-hills that runs parallel with the sea, at some distance inland, is the boundary beyond which culture and civilization have not pro gressed. Within that barrier rises the baronial castle and the lordly hall; there wide spread domains, covered with the fruits of earth, repay the smiles of summer ; luxuriant forests shelter the cheerful hamlet, aud the wealthy town lifts its proud steeples over the fertile plain. Bi*t he who wanders on the flat and sterile shore, that spreads between the highland and the sea, may not guess of the lovely scenes that lie a few miles distant in the interior of the country.

Here nothing but desolation meets Ms eye, the ceaseless sounding waves roll over the sandy flats, and the unstable soil shakes with their approaching thunder. Often the howling waters assume a leaden hue, and heavily and slowly as molten lead they fall on the desolate beach which every billow seems to narrow and threatens to cngulph. Then pale and massy clouds come rolling over the sky, shaped like craggy preci pices, and suddenly from those aerial rocks downward leaps the gushing cataract, not like the mild tears of a southern sky, but one un broken flood of impetuous water — anon arises the wind, the rack of the scattered tempest, shorn of its power, is driven over the woods of Jutland, that, sparkling beneathvthc re appearing sun, smile through the tears ofthe storm. The angry sea chides louder amid the broken islands that sentinel the shore, and keep even the adventurous mariner from the unshel tered waste. weep, its tears are tears of joy, for never wa_ there a lovelier tree, never a brighter green than iu its sparkling leaf; see how it lifts its graceful form, screening the spotless white of its pure, soft boughs beneath an emerald veil, and when its proud height would overtop the tallest child of the forest, see how it bends its gentle brow in modesty, how its slender boughs wave down kind greeting to the earth.

Once it was thus. The verdant birch bloomed along that altered coast unto the very verge of the waters, glad villages were scattered in the then sheltered bays, sacred fanes arose amid darkling groves, and lordly castles crowned the peopled heights. Gay commerce spread her many sails upon the sea, the rustling cable sounded in the quipk-thronged harbour, and the mariner's fitful lay challenged the wild song of the landborn peasant ; the morning and evening bell of the sequestered convent came ringing through the trembling trees to remind that all this happiness was given of God. Alas ! that it should have passed ! what envying demon could have marred so soft a scene ? or was it for the sins of man that desolation sought his dwelling . Centuries had flown in peace, and the happy owners of those secluded regions, far from the storms of the world, might have dwelt for ever in tranquillity, had not the restless spirit, ever the companion of man, in solitudes even as in cities, brought upon them the wrath of the dark gods of ocean.

Commerce had sought those shpi'es, wealth flowed into those stormless harbours, but the inscrutable powers of the sea would claim their sacrifice. The exultant mariner left his home in the glad spirit of hope — -from the north and the west and the south, the buoyant breeze came with cheering tidings and with happy hearts ; but he, for whom many a tear dimmed the bright blue eye of love, many a sigh lifted the blonde lock from the snowy breast, he, the loved one, came not again ! — Mayhap the encroaching waves would snatch their tribute from the land — mayhap they would whelm some lonely cot and cause some sorrowing brows amid the village throng; rare was it, however, that the ocean These, however, were not the features of this strand in the oldeji time ; it was then a lovely scene. Then swelling hills heaved their green bosoms to the sea, whoso blue waters gladly danced at their base as'proud to image so much beauty. Their summits wore a crown of weep ing birch — weeping ! Oh ! if the birch doth

Chapter II

thus asserted its sovereignty of that shore, and often, like a lenient lord, it gave back those for whom one had long ceased to hope and almost ceased to sorrow ; yet man, whose perverse nature is too frequently corrupted by prosperity and spoiled by kindness, murmured at the powers of the sea, and with rash hands attempted to resist them. Then was it that the dyke was raised, the haven dug, the indignant waters repelled from their own domain, or imprisoned in their rightful dwelling, and in presumption ! even over the unfathomed wild of ocean man dared to claim dominion. Far over the seas blazed the beacon's light, signal answered signal from hill to hill, the sturdy bark careered through idly struggling waves, and despite their anger reached the bul warked bay ; even its depths were not safe from the invading hand, its most secret treasures were brought to light — its mysteries about to be un veiled.

Then at last its dread powers, who had long impatiently gazed upon these daring vanities, but still in pity had witliheld their wrath, now roused by each rapidly succeeding attack, lifted the voice of war and hurled the weight of their anger upon the race of man. It was a dreary morning of November ; un natural sounds and frightful winds had suddenly called the inhabitants of the coast from their slumbers, a trembling was felt in the earth — huge jagged masses of black cloud floated low in the sky, and the eddying wind piercing their inner edges tore from them sheets of imparted water, and dashed them on the earth. The affrighted villagers rushing to the huge vibrating dykes, that shook like reeds before the impendin g ruin, behold how vain were the works of their hands. They gazed aghast upon the sea; an unusual commotion raged upon its surface — slowly and majestically it lifted its mighty form till on a level with the highest rim of the still resisting dyke.

Suddenly there came a mighty sound. It was heard in the south, it was heard in the north, and farther and farther to the north and to the south, arose that awful voice. From signal hill to signal hill it burst with its redoubling thunders ! — It was the war trump ofthe advancing waters ! Still the dyke resisted, and the haggard group gathered upon it stood intently gazing on the approaching death. Again there came that thundering sound — -it shook the mighty dyke to its base. The hills tottered, the earth trembled, the clouds were cleft with its gigantic echo, and with a leap, and with a shout like that of the archangel's trumpet, high over the prostrate mound swept the surf-plumed armies of the ocean ! Down sunk the hills beneath their awful charge — the shrieks of dying thousands, the fall of crushed castles — the loud death of the levelled earth were as nought with the thunder of one single wave !

It is passed ! Where earth had been fair, is desolation, where had been the abode of beauty is horror, and as the waters swept back in con quering majesty, well may their spirits — stern as they are — pity the havoc they had made and spread over the ruins of so fair a scene, a winding sheet of pale white melanchoiy sand. The ministering waves laid it over them, and in pity receding from the shore, sang a low sad dirge above the tomb of happiness. Half a century had passed since this catas trophe, and none again attempted to people that devoted coast ; but the survivors, withdrawing to within the chain of sand-covered hills that stretch along the sea, against which they seem the natural bulwark of the country, left all beyond to the ravages of the waves. Superstition clothed that deserted tract with the wildest tales, and he whom chance might lead within its precincts, often thought he heard other sounds than the moaning of the waters and the howling of the winds, and that he beheld more than the. beaten shingles and the falling spray.

Years had flown, the memory of that dreadful inundation still lived, the picture of its horrors was not forgotten, but the effacing pencil of time had softened down its first sharp lines of woe. Alas ! the sorrows of our ancestors are but as talcs that amuse us. The more a people is separated from inter course with neighbouring nations, the more it cultivates its recollections of former ages, and well might the dwellers in that northern land seek converse with the shades of eld ; for seldom was it that the stranger crossed the waves of the Eyder, and pressed the green turf of Jutland, though its groves were as fair, and its plains as rich as those of many a more southern clime. Nor did the children of the land often pass its bounds in quest of other scenes ; but the noble lived contented in his own proud castle, and cared not to mix in the strife of kings, or the intrigues of courts, that agitated Europe in the middle ages.

The serf, unharrassed by the ravages of war, to which nearly all the neighbour ing countries were exposed, lived beneath the not heavy yoke of his lord in comparative tran quillity, for the shout of the Friedlander, and the banner of Tilly were then unknown — the southern war-blast had not yet awakened so northern an echo ; and the placid children of those quiet lands had not yet learned the truths of Liberty, written by the hand of warfare on the heart of sorrow. To them the Lord was still the legitimate owner of the soil, and not a base usurper of his fellows' rights, and contentedly they bowed beneath their easy yoke — for the lord, in turn, like the slumbering snake, whose venom resistance has not stirred, lay in loose coils upon the drowsy land. Well then might the humble villagers of Roscoe marvel what could bring to so sequestered a spot the lofty stranger whom the close of a bright autumn evening saw descending into their valley, and well might his appearance raise their wonder, for neither his habit nor his arms were of a northern clime.

No weighty breast-plate, no cumbrous furs, no massive battle-axe — but the light coat of chain mail refulgent in gold ; the snow-white scarf and vest, adorned with the r badge of a regal house ; the graceful casque, with its wavy plumes ; the long and slender lance and jewelled scymitar; all told of honours won in the far south. Slowly the stranger wound down the green hills that led to the little hamlet of Roscoe, and often did he rein in his coal black steed, and gaze earnestly across the valley to where the horizon was marked by a long line of white sandmight well wander hack in thought to their banks, remembering how he had spurred his charger through the lines of battle and lifted the bright lance in the joyous tournament. And now, now he is far from them, far from courts and camps in a northern land, in an unknown hamlet!

Doth his young heart beat for aught he hath left behind ? He throws his visor up as though to ease the hot press of burning thoughts ; no ! there is a smile upon his face, a welcoming smile, as he looks down upon the groves of Roscoe, which lie at his feet, bosomed amid green mea dows on the eastern side of the valley. The stream that wandered forth from] the rocks in playful wide sweeping meanderings, now verging towards the eastern, then again wending towards the western hills, like a child that sur rounded with things of beauty, now turns to one, then to the other, wishing to grasp them all, found a broader bed as it reached the southern extremity of Roscoe, and spread into a lake so bright and silvery ye might have deemed it a star that had fallen from heaven, and melted in its light. The shades of evening closed — the stranger knight again spurred his steed down I the hill, and crossing the hamlet, hurried on to the monastry of Saint Emmeran. hills, half mingling in distance with the sea, which appeared between their hollows.

Lin geringly, he descended the downward path, till the nearer heights and woods excluded the more remote objects from his view, then, pausing in one of the loveliest scenes fancy could picture — ■ melancholy memories seemed to crowd upon him, and his thoughts to wander back through a far distance of time and space. It is a fairy spot, that smiling vale of Roscoe ; methinks even now I stand upon the hill, on which the wanderer paused, gazing on its beauties ; a swelling mound that runs forth like a hill-peninsula, sent from the loftier heights behind it, into the depths of the valley. A wild coronal of birch waves on its brow, shaking its musical tassels to the evening breeze , a peal of natural bells in the cathedral of forest. Behind, to the east, rise gentle acclivities, forming an undulating horizon of purple heath, green lichen, and autumnal flowers ; on the northern side of Roscoe, they assume a bolder shape, building a wall of craggy precipice between their valley and the polar storms — yet even there they wear no frown, but the rich green ofthe pine forest is writhed around them, and the pure stream leaps from their caverns with mysterious murmur, waking continual whisperings amid the bending boughs.

Deep seated in its rocky recess, with grey turrets, scarce [rising above the pines, stands the monastery of Saint Emmeran. Bright groves of birch and maple, with the graceful larch clothing the western heights, and pencilling their boughs in rich etching against the sunset sky, exclude the distant view of the sea and its lone white boundary, while ,on the south, the eye may wander far over rich undulating plains, studded with castles and baronial seats, till all is lost in the same blue line mingling earth and air ; the western and eastern hills diverging more and more as they range away towards Germany, leave open to the view an almost boundless ex tent of varied scenery. It is as though the spirit of the valley stretched forth its longing arms to the mild glories of the south, and waved its birchen tresses to win the southern air.

Chapter III

It was night. — In the abbott's cell of Saint Emmeran sat a warrior and a priest — a dim lamp lit their confessional, and nought but the vault echo listened to their words. Thus spoke the warrior : ' Holy father ! The first sourlds I heard were the notes of war ; for on the day of my birth, in the camp of Conrad of Hohenstaufen, his troops were marshalled to guard him on his new as cended throne. The first sights I saw were arms and waving banners. ' My first years were passed in the Court of Conrad, but his Court was a camp, and his reign a ceaseless battle through his ruined states. The first tidings I was able to understand, were the murder of my emperor by his half brother Man fred, who usurped the vacant throne. Horror succeeding horror, and crime on crime were the schools in which I was taught.

The paths of glory were the paths of sin — murder was called chivalry — robbery was dignified war — and the glories of princes were but the catalogues of their atrocities. What endless lands lie beyond that opening ! gaze away over yon plains, extend thy mental vision over the Eyder, the Elbe, and the Rhine ; their broad tides roll through varied scenes and differing people. Gods of the mighty streams ! what see you not on yonder wanderings ? what tell you not in the. halls of Father Ocean, when ye all flow in with tidings of the earth ; ye are the paths on which the children of the sea visit their brethren of the land. Often do they come from the depth of waters in the mysterious tide, and the streams descend from their mountains to meet them. They j converse in their wave, and then again they part, and ebb flows back to the main.

But, then, I understood this not. Deprived early of a mother's care, had it not been for the mercy of heaven I might have become as the wretches that were around me. But Thaddeus of Suessa was the friend of my father, and through his guidance I was led into the paths of virtue. He told me how my sire had come from our northern land to fight ifnder the banners of the cross and of the second Frederick ; he told me of the fate of that really injured monarch, one of the few bright names in the catalogue of royalty, and he wept as he told likewise of his christian Cru sade, the only one that deserved not a curse, for the Emperor gained that through his justice and forbearance, which had been tried in vain by arms ; he told me also how my father fell in the ranks of Ezzelino de Romano, who, still faith fully sighting for the rights of his Emperor, as- How often when peace sat smiling amid har vests on your shores came the storm of war, and the mountain rills rolled redly downward ; but here in this sweet vale the din of battle rageth not, the blows that strike down the towers of southern palaces wake not even an echo in yon grey convent turrets.

The knightly wanderer, who had come from those proud streams, so often denied by man, serted his authority in his absence. He related how discord tore the world at the death of Con rad ; how the church was made the footstool of ambition ; and how courts were the seats of crime, and camps the abode of brigands. He unfolded to me the glories of the house of Hohenstaufen, and his heart warmed at the recital. That house, which was unfortunate because it was superior to its fellows, that luck less line of princes, who, because they despised the craft of kings and the fear of popes, because they checked the tyranny of nobles and the law lessness of soldiers, were hounded into ruin and the grave by a banded world. Three sons of that house still remained, Manfred, the murderer, Entius the captive, and Conradin the fugitive — in the last his hopes centred, for the youthful prince was worthy of his fathers.

Thaddeus led me to him, and the bonds of friendship bound me to the young and landless monarch, with whom I fled through the warm hills of Italy ; and often when in the melancholy twilight as the sun set over the sea, we climbed some lone height of the Appennine, and Conradin, a home less emperor, looked over the wide and lovely land that should be his, I gazed alternately on him and on the setting sun, and scarcely knew which was the proudest sight — the golden front of the sinking fire, or the pale brow of the fallen Prince ! The dark clouds that rolled in the west, but could not dim the sun ; the vapours of ad versity that swept round Conradin, but could not bow his spirit ! and I thought the grandest spec tacle on earth, is the struggle of a noble heart with misfortune, that forgets its own sorrows in mourning for the cares of others.

And often would Conradin weep over the sufferings of those lands. Oft would he say of their tame peoples, ' Alas ! poor slaves ! Unworthy of liberty ! Their sharp swords, while wearing their chains, do little, they must strike the spark of manhood forth from their hearts-" alone against a world inarms ; — then it was that his heart beat prouder, and his virtues lent a glory to his landless diadem. Often have I seen him overthrow the towers of his enemies ; olten have I heard the Appennines reverberate to his battle shout, and the war song of the German soldier roll away amidst their hollows louder than their native thunder ! and where are they now, those sounds? There lives not even an echo ! Often have I seen his banners wave from the heights like sunlit thunder-clouds, pnd flow above the gleaming lines of lances that fringed them with their lightnings, and where are they now ?

The very trace where the bolt fell is no more ! often has the serf, whom he had saved from oppression, blessed his youthful arms, and the captive whom he had freed from a dungeon thanked him for a second birth. Then would the kingly spirit which was entombed in his heart, and shrouded by adversity, beam once more from his eyes, and a glow of god-like triumph light his lofty brow. Bright, though brief, success crowned his en deavours, and he moved a King through Italy. But the host of Anjou, countless and dark, swarmed down the snowy Alps, and many a brave brow paled, and many a false heart joyed at its approach ; the Gallic tyrant came powerful in overwhelming numbers, with the chivalry of France ; and the faithless of Italy soon joined his standard. It was then that Conradin as sumed a kinglier port — the triple crown blazed on his head, and the imperial ensigns waved over his tent, in bold defiance of the crowned vul tures that assailed him.

In the majesty of an Emperor, he bore down to meet his deadly foe, for the might of that foe was worthy of his arms. It was evening when we reached the heights of Scurcola ; beneath, in the plains, spread the countless powers of France, their murmur came up the hills like the stormfall of an ocean — the booming of a death-surge to our hopes ! our small, but valiant band, encamped along the heights in melancholy silence, whilst the oriflamme flaunted in the evening sun, in the centre of the rich plains below. Conradin seized the huge banner of Hohen staufen, waved it in the air to win the breeze, then planted it firmly in the ground. Bravely it unrolled to the wind ; and the sun— alas it was a setting sun — printed a consecrated kiss upon its regal field. A melancholy smile passed over the proud and lovely face of the exile, whilst he knelt in its shadow and said : — " Sol diers ! to-morrow by that banner we will live or die!"

The kneeling host repeated the words, but I heard nought save — "to-morrow we will die!" Some there were who dared brave the thunder of the Vatican, the arms of Anjou, and the steel of traitors, for the sake of their injured Prince ; often would a valiant heart descend the icy Alps and wander to our almost silent camp ; in a short time a goodly show of broad German swords had gathered around the tent of the exile, and soon his young arm made known its deeds of prowess to the soft Italians, and the dastard brigands fled before his lance. With the impe rial crown on his sable helmet, but clad in the hue of mourning, he was the first in the charge and foremost in the breach; every lance and arrow were aimed at that heart — every sword was drawn to cleave that brow, and yet, like the youthful lion, he dashed them from him, and struck through the raging tide that rolled over his throne.

But the storm gathered deeper and darker around him, and sad tidings of misfortune came from the plains. Manfred had fallen at Benevento — a hero, though a murderer. The lovely Entius had died a captive and a King, at Bologna; the disloyal prelate, who still trembled before the regal arm of Conradin, had sum moned the tyrant of Anjou to aid him in his re bellion; and Charles obeyed the command of Clemens. Then it was that the young hero stood

Chapter IV

The morning came — the morn of Scurcola, a bright and lovely morn. Our troops had passed the night under arms and in prayer, in anxious expectation of the approaching battle, and we hailed with something akin to joy the birth of the first mountain shadow that fell from the Appennine, and pointed with grey finger to the hostile camp. As the mist rolled away from the plains, we could see the countles3 army of An jou ranged in order of battle below. The Italian troops, and other auxiliaries occupying the centre, the gold of their armour, regilt by the morning sun, formed a compact and glittering phalanx. Ou either flank were placed the men at arms, the flower ofthe Gallic chivalry. These formed the first line of the hostile battle. On their left was a thick wood, which covered the northern side ofthe plain, and hid a part of their order from our view.

To their right they were sheltered by a ravine and broken ground. Their second line was placed ata considerable distance from the first, and was composed of the body guard and household troops of Charles, who headed them in person. There might be seen the oriflamme rolling like a cloud over the shining host, and throwing its shade of glory over the chivalry of Gaul. To attack so overwhelming a force with our slender powers was rash indeed, but there was no alternative, for fresh troops from Lombardy and Rome were approaching to assail our rear. They were already within a day's march, and to resist their combined numbers would have been certain destruction; to escape from them im possible ; we therefore determined on receiving the enemy, and in case ofhis remaining inactive on forcing him to battle.

The morning mist sheltered our scanty numbers from his view, and perceiving the advantage this gave, Conradin determined upon sudden onset. His German phalanx, as the most trusty and the bravest, he placed in the centre, in two divisions, the second to act in reserve, and support the wings, which, consisting principally of Italians, had to resist the far-famed cavalry of Anjou, against which we could scarcely oppose a single squadron of horse. Before us waved the banner of Hohen staufen — the last time it should stream in the air over an imperial brow ! Bravely it waved that day, for hold hearts beat under its shadow. The evening came, and the banner was not there ; the hearts of its defenders were cold, and the house of Hohenstaufen was but a name ! In silence we descended from the heights, and as the first gleams of our array broke from their misty shroud, a shout, long and prolonged, ran along the Gallic line, and found its echo among the fading stars.

Like a torrent of fire, our sun lit battle rushed down towards the plain, voice less and swift, but a thunder rolled along with it in its course, as the earth shook beneath its tread. The army of Anjou stood firm to receive our charge, and soon, with the crash of a bursting storm, the German guard broke upon its glittering centre. There was a momentary struggle, and then the snowy plumes and wavy banners ofthe Italian force rolled back in tumul tuous floods, as in one compact serried body the brave soldiers of the empire pressed steadily onward. The cavalry of France moved not from their position, hut stood an impenetrable wall on either side, while their centre was swept from between them. They easily repulsed the irregular onset of Conradin's Italian troops, who fell back upon the hills in great disorder to where the young Emperor stood at the head of his guard, watching the progress of the first attack, and commanding a view of the whole plain below.

Still fled the hostile centre tojs-ids its reserve, and still we beheld pressing onward that serried band, like a small dark bark amid the ocean of its foes. It reached the open space between the first and second line of the enemy — then burst the first shout from that gallant body, and we could hear it ascending heaven ward, the spontaneous offering of brave hearts to God ! To the right and to the left through the open space dispersed the flying foe, and parting, like a cloud, disclosed the impenetrable phalanx of the French reserve. Our brave Germans, confident of victory, prepared to rush on the firm line lhat stood before them, but they had progressed further than had been the intention of their leader, and the attack on the wings of the enemy, on which the result of the battle mainly depended, had proved a failure.

Conradin, seeing their exposed situation, and the discomfiture of his Italian troops, waved the banner of Hohenstaufen, and leading his body guard to the charge, bore down with all his power upon the hostile line to support his victo rious centre ; but as we charged down the hills, I gazed upon the plain, and oh ! the sight was changed — still the gallant band stood firm, a dark spot, the urn of glory and virtue, amidst the vast numbers of the enemy ; but it grew less and less as I beheld, and vainly it struggled to reach the immoveable phalanx before it, while from either side, as it advanced, poured the engines of death that m owed it down by ranks ; even amid the din of battle, the groan of the balista and the loud rush of the hurled rock was heard ; the false flight ofthe enemy had intentionally led to this spot of ruin.