The Banished Part 43

Some years after the fatal battle, the Duke succeeded in re-conquering Wurtemberg. The stern lesson of adversity and misfortune brought him back a wiser Prince and a happier man. He re-established the ancient rights and laws of the land, and won the hearts of his people by judicious measures. He enforced the preaching of holy doctrines, and by his example recommended the practice of them. The religious principles he had imbibed in foreign lands, and which had afforded him the only consolation amidst his sufferings, he now infused into the laws of his country, as the only sure foundation-stone of a people's happiness.

Albert and his pious wife plainly discovered the finger of a merciful G.o.d watching over the fate of Ulerich von Wurtemberg. They blessed Him who thus veils futurity from the eye of mortals, and, as in the present instance, turns dark into light to those who seek his guidance and protection in faith.

The name of Lichtenstein in Wurtemberg became extinct at the death of the old knight; but he lived long enough to see his blooming grand-children attain the age of bearing arms. And in this way generation after generation pa.s.s over the face of the earth, new comers thrusting out old ones, and after a short lapse of fifty or an hundred years, the fame of honest men and faithful hearts is forgotten. The rushing stream of time drowns the voice of their remembrance, and only a few brilliant names float down the tide of history and play upon its surface in partial glittering light. Far more happy is the man whose actions carry their own silent worth along with them, finding their reward alone in the purity of conscience, and pa.s.sing through life without courting the praise or flattery of the times in which he lived, nor living for the applause of after ages. The name of the fifer of Hardt and his actions, have come down to us in simple garb, through the medium of successive generations of shepherds in the neighbourhood of the "Misty Cavern." They relate the deeds of the man who concealed his unfortunate Duke among its deep recesses, as they conduct the stranger through their gloomy paths, and talk of the romantic events of Ulerich's life. The writer of history disdains such stories as unworthy of his pen; but they are not the less credible. When recounted on the spot, such as on the heights of Lichtenstein, where the Duke came every night at a stated hour to the castle, and when the place is pointed out on the bridge of Kongen, whence the undaunted man took the fearful leap into the deep waters below for life or death, we listen to the details with believing ears.

The old castle of Lichtenstein has long since fallen into ruin. A huntsman's house now occupies its foundations, light and airy, like a castle in the air, which imagination builds upon the ruins of antiquity. Wurtemberg's fields spread themselves before the enchanted eye, rich and blooming as formerly, when Bertha by the side of her lover gazed upon them, and the most unhappy of her princes cast a farewell glance on his country from Lichtenstein's windows. The subterranean apartments of the castle, which received the exile, are still to be seen, in all their pride and glory; and the murmuring streams, gushing through the mysterious depths at the foot of the rock, would seem to relate events long since buried in oblivion.

It is a delightful custom of the inhabitants of the country, and also of the stranger from distant parts, to visit Lichtenstein and Ulerich's cavern on Whitsunday. Many hundreds of Swabia's children are attracted to these mountains on that day. They descend into the heart of the earth, whose crystal walls, lighted up by thousands of wax tapers, are made to reflect their sparkling beauties in numberless fantastic forms; they fill the cavern with the sound of the merry song, and listening to its echoes, which are accompanied by the melodious murmur of the running streams in the depth below, enjoy the wonders of nature's handy work. Having satisfied their curiosity, they return to the light of day, more pleased than ever with the glories of sunshine and the comfort of earth's blessings. Ascending the road leading to the heights of Lichtenstein, they arrive on its summit, where the men, surrounded by their wives and families, with the gla.s.s in the hand, overlook the distant fields, displayed to their view in all the lovely colours of the setting sun, and, with grateful hearts, thank heaven for the blessings of their father-land. The halls of Lichtenstein resound again with music, dancing, and the merry song, and the echo from its rocks seems to inspire the jovial guests with recollections of the former inmates of the castle, and with them to gaze upon good old Wurtemberg.

But whether the spirit of the lady of Lichtenstein, with that of Albert and the old knight, inspires them, or whether the faithful musician of Hardt quits his grave, and, as he was wont to do during his life, mounts up to the castle to cheer it with music and song, we know not.

Often have we reposed on these rocks on a still summer's evening, enjoying the landscape, talking over the good old times, witnessing the sun's descent, and observing the castle, standing alone and solitary, lighted up by its last rays. Then it was we fancied we could distinguish, among the rustling of the trees, the sound of known voices, floating on the gentle breeze, wafting to our ears their salutations, and recounting the events of their past lives and actions.

We have frequently experienced such like feelings, presenting to our imagination images, which fancy would realize before our eyes, and salute our ears with the whisper of their romantic tales, until at length we verily believed them to be,--the spirits of Lichtenstein.

THE END.