Few enough, and scattered enough, were
these abbeys, so as in no degree to disturb the deep solitude of the
region; yet many enough to spread a network or awning of Christian
sanctity over what else might have seemed a heathen wilderness. This
sort of religious talisman being secured, a man the most afraid of
ghosts (like myself, suppose, or the reader) becomes armed into courage
to wander for days in their sylvan recesses. The mountains of the
Vosges, on the eastern frontier of France, have never attracted much
notice from Europe, except in 1813-14 for a few brief months, when they
fell within Napoleon's line of defence against the Allies. But they are
interesting for this among other features, that they do not, like some
loftier ranges, repel woods; the forests and the hills are on sociable
terms. "Live and let live" is their motto. For this reason, in part,
these tracts in Lorraine were a favourite hunting-ground with the
Carlovingian princes. About six hundred years before Joanna's
childhood, Charlemagne was known to have hunted there. That, of itself,
was a grand incident in the traditions of a forest or a chase. In these
vast forests, also, were to be found (if anywhere to be found) those
mysterious fawns that tempted solitary hunters into visionary and
perilous pursuits. Here was seen (if anywhere seen) that ancient stag
who was already nine hundred years old, but possibly a hundred or two
more, when met by Charlemagne; and the thing was put beyond doubt by
the inscription upon his golden collar.
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