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The Devil's Elixir, Vol. 2 (of 2)

by E. T. A. Hoffmann · English · Gutenberg #37005 · 382,233 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Devil's Elixir, Vol. 2 (of 2)

Author: E. T. A. Hoffmann

Translator: R. P. Gillies


        
Release date: August 8, 2011 [eBook #37005]
                Most recently updated: January 8, 2021

Language: English

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                           THE DEVIL'S ELIXIR.

                           FROM THE GERMAN OF
                           E. T. A. HOFFMANN.


     _In diesem Jahre wandelte auch her_ DEUVEL _offentlich auf den
     Strassen von Berlin.----_

     _Haftit Microc. Berol. p. 1043._

     In that yeare, the Deville was alsoe seene walking publiclie on the
     streetes of  Berline.----


    VOL. II

    WILLIAM BLACKWOOD, EDINBURGH:
    AND T. CADELL, LONDON.
    1829.




THE DEVIL'S ELIXIR.




CHAPTER I.


Who is there, over the wide world, who has not, at one period or
another, in a more or less degree, felt the mysterious influences of
love?--Whoever thou art, then, courteous reader, who shalt, after the
lapse of years, turn over these papers, recall, I beseech you, to
recollection that noontide interval of dazzling brightness--contemplate
once more that beautiful image, which came, like an impersonization of
the abstract spirit of love, from divine regions, to meet you.

At that time, it was through her,--through her alone, that thou
seemed'st assured of thine own existence! Canst thou not yet remember,
how the rushing streams, the waving trees, and the balmy winds of
evening, spoke to thee, in articulate and intelligible accents, of her,
and of the prevailing passion which possessed thy whole heart and
soul?--Canst thou yet behold how the flowers unfolded their bright
beaming eyes, bearing to thine from her kisses and salutation?

Yet, suppose that she herself had actually come--that she vowed to be
thine, and thine only--to live for thee alone--then didst thou fold her
in thy embraces, and it seemed as if Heaven opened its eternal realms to
receive you--as if thou could'st raise thyself with her above all the
petty sorrows or enjoyments of this every-day and earthly sphere. Yet
scarcely hadst thou formed such hopes ere she was lost! The bland
illusion was broken. No longer could'st thou hear the music of her
celestial voice; and only the sorrowful complaints of the despairing and
forsaken lover sounded amid the desolate loneliness!

If then, reader, to me unknown!--if thou hast ever been persecuted by
such a destiny, join, then, and sympathize with the grief of the
penitent monk, who, recollecting still the sunny gleams of his youthful
attachment, weeps on his hard couch, and whose fearful groans
reverberate, in the stillness of night, through the gloomy aisles of the
convent!--But thou, too, in spirit to me related, doubtless wilt concur
in my belief, that it is not till _after death_, that the mysterious
gifts and enjoyments of this passion can be obtained and fulfilled! This
truth is, indeed, announced to us by many a hollow prophesying voice,
which rises on our ears from the immeasurable depths of eternity; and as
in those rites, celebrated by our earliest ancestors, (the children of
nature,) death appears also to us the high festival of love!

I have said before, that my leading object in these pages was rapid,
concise narrative, without any attempt at description. But of my
emotions on meeting Aurelia, that evening, in the palace, no words
could, however skilfully laboured, convey any adequate impression. I was
struck as if with a thundershock. My breast heaved--my heart beat
convulsively--and every pulse and vein throbbed almost audibly.

"To _her_!--to _her_!"--It seemed as if an over-powering impulse would
force me to thrust aside the contemptible mob of insipid worldlings--of
every-day flatterers, scarcely possessed of one rational idea, by whom
she was surrounded--to crush, like webs of gossamer, those despicable
barriers, and snatch her to my arms, in all the wild frenzy of
undisguised passion! Methought I could have exclaimed aloud--"What,
unhappy girl, dost thou strive against? With that supernatural power,
which has irresistibly and unalterably chained thee to me?--Am I not thy
fate, and art thou not indeed mine for ever?"

Yet notwithstanding these emotions, I contrived, far better than
formerly, at the Baron's castle, to conceal from the bystanders my
agitation. Besides, the eyes of all were directed to Aurelia; and thus,
in a circle of people, who to my concerns were perfectly indifferent, I
contrived to move about, without being particularly remarked or spoken
to, which to me would have been intolerable, as I could but see, hear,
and think of her alone.

Let no one insist that a truly beautiful girl appears to most advantage
in a homely household dress. On the contrary, the beauty of woman, like
that of flowers in a parterre, is then most attractive and irresistible
when they are arrayed in their fullest pomp and magnificence. Say,
then, oh lover! to whom I have before addressed myself, when thou for
the first time beholdest the empress of thy heart--who had before worn a
simple garb, now attired with splendour and gleaming, the _cynosure_ of
a brilliant party--did not a new and nameless rapture vibrate through
every nerve and vein? She would appear to you indeed so strange! but
this, joined to the knowledge that she was in reality _the same_,
heightened the charms by which thy soul was wholly subjected. What
unspeakable pleasure, if thou could'st, by stealth, seize and press her
hand in the crowd, and say to thyself, she, who is here the magnet of
all eyes, is mine by indissoluble bonds, and lives for me alone!

Thus I beheld Aurelia on that evening dressed with becoming splendour
for her first introduction at court. Then the spirit of evil once more
became powerful within me, and lifted up his internal voice, to which I
now bent a willing ear--"Seest thou not now, Medardus," it began, "how
thou triumph'st over all the conditional laws and limitations of this
life--how Destiny now submits herself to thy will, and only knots more
firmly the threads which thou thyself hadst spun?"

There were many other women at court who might well have passed for
beautiful, but before the dazzling charms of Aurelia, they faded away
into utter insignificance. A kind of inspiration now seemed to take
possession of the most insipid and common-place characters. Even the old
courtiers gave up their usual strain of unmeaning talk, and visibly
exerted themselves, in order to appear to the best advantage in the eyes
of the beautiful stranger.

Aurelia received all this homage with looks fixed on the ground, and
with deep blushes; but now, when the Prince assembled the elder
courtiers about himself, and many a handsome youth timidly and
respectfully drew near her, she began, by degrees, to lose her
embarrassment, and to seem more cheerful.

There was, in particular, a certain Major of the _garde d'honneur_, who
succeeded in attracting a good deal of her attention, so that she at
last appeared occupied with him in lively discourse. I knew this Major
to be a decided favourite of the female sex; with a fine ear, he could
catch even the very tone, sentiment, and voice of the person whom he
addressed, so that the deceived listener seemed to hear a miraculous
anticipation of her own thoughts--a chord struck in perfect unison. I
now stood not far from Aurelia, who appeared to take no notice of me.
Many times I was on the point of going up to her, but, as if bound by
iron fetters, I could not move from the spot on which I stood. The
bitterness of envy and jealousy possessed my heart. At last, as I
steadfastly gazed on Aurelia and her fortunate companion, methought that
the Major's features were changed into those of Victorin!

As if actuated by some demon, I wholly lost all self-possession. In a
convulsed tone of bitter scorn and mockery, I laughed aloud--"Ha, ha,
ha!--Thou _revenant_!--Thou cursed libertine!" cried I, "has thy bed
then, in the devil's abyss, been so downy, that, in frenzied passion,
thou darest aspire to the chosen paramour of the Monk?"

I know not if I actually uttered these words, but I heard myself laugh,
and started up as from a dream, when the old Court-Marshal, taking my
arm, gently inquired, "What makes you so merry, Mr Leonard?" An ice-cold
shuddering passed over my whole frame.

Were not these the identical words of the pious brother Cyrillus, when,
at the time of my investiture, he remarked my sinful laughter?--Scarcely
was I able to utter some incoherent nonsense in reply--I felt conscious
that Aurelia was no longer near to me, but did not venture to look up to
see what had become of her. Instinctively, I resolved to make my escape,
and ran with my utmost speed through the illuminated apartments.
Doubtless, my appearance was in the utmost degree disordered, for I
remarked how every one cleared the way for me as if seized with horror
and affright. At length, I arrived at the outer-door, and leapt headlong
rather than ran down the broad marble staircase.

Henceforward I completely avoided the court; for to see Aurelia again,
without betraying the mystery which it was my interest to conceal,
seemed to me impossible. Abandoned to my own reveries, I ran through the
fields and woods, thinking of her, and beholding her alone. My
conviction always became more certain that some mysterious destiny bound
up her fate indissolubly with mine, and that my pursuit of her, which
had many times appeared to me as an unpardonable crime, was but the
fulfilment of an eternal and unalterable decree.

Thus encouraging myself, I laughed at the danger which now threatened
me, if Aurelia should recognize in me the murderer of Hermogen! Besides,
this appeared to me very improbable; and, meanwhile, the attentions of
those fluttering youths who laboured to win for themselves the good
graces of her who was altogether and exclusively mine, filled me with
the utmost scorn and contempt for their endeavours.

"What," said I, "are to me these Counts, Freyherrs, Chamberlains, and
military officers, in their motley coats bedaubed with lace, and hung
with orders? What are they more than gaudy impertinent insects, which,
if they became troublesome, I could with one blow crush to
annihilation?"

Reflecting on the chapel adventure of the Cistertian Convent, it seemed
to me as if, robed in my capuchin tunic, I could step in among them with
Aurelia, habited like a bride, in my arms, and that this proud and
haughty Princess should be forced even to sanction the marriage, and
prepare the bridal festival for that conquering and triumphant monk,
whom she now so much despised. Labouring with such thoughts, I
frequently pronounced aloud, and unconsciously, the name of Aurelia;
and, as before in the Capuchin Convent, laughed and howled like a
madman!

But, ere long, this tempest was laid, and I began quietly to take
counsel with myself in what manner I was now to act. Thus I was one
morning gliding through the park, considering whether it would be
prudent for me to attend another evening party at court, which had been
announced to me, when some one touched me on the shoulder. It was the
physician.

To my great surprise, after the usual salutations, he looked steadfastly
in my face, took hold of my arm, and requested that I would allow him to
feel my pulse. "What's the meaning of all this?" cried I, with some
impatience.--"Nay," said he, "there is a sort of madness going about
here, that seizes all at once upon honest Christian people, and makes
them utter tremendous noises, though some will have it that the said
noises are nothing more than very immoderate laughter. At the same time,
this may be all a misconception; this devil of madness may be only a
slight fever, with heat in the blood; therefore I beg of you, sir,
allow me to feel your pulse."

"I assure you, sir," said I, "that I am well, and by no means understand
the drift of this discourse." The physician, however, had kept hold of
my arm, and now taking out his watch, counted my pulse with great
precision. His conduct, indeed, puzzled me completely, and I entreated
of him to explain himself.

"Do you not know, then, Mr Leonard," replied he, "that your behaviour
has lately brought the whole court into the utmost confusion and
consternation? Since that time, the lady of the upper Chamberlain has
been almost perpetually in hysterics; and the President of the
Consistorial Court has been obliged to put off hearing the weightiest
causes, because it was your pleasure to tramp with all your might upon
his gouty toes; so that, now confined to his arm-chair, he sits at home
roaring and cursing most notably. This happened when you were running
out of the hall, after you had laughed in such a demoniacal tone without
any perceptible reason, that all were seized with the utmost horror."

At that moment I thought of the Court-Marshal, and said that I indeed
recollected having laughed in that sudden manner, but that my conduct
surely could not have been attended by such consequences, as the Marshal
had only asked me, with great coolness, "Why I was so merry?"

"Nay, nay," answered the physician, "that will not prove much--The
Marshal is such a _homo impavidus_, that the very devil himself could
scarcely put him out of his way--He retained his ordinary placidity of
manner, but the Consistorial President, on the other hand, was
exceedingly disturbed in mind as well as in body, and maintained
seriously, that none but the devil could have laughed in such a
style.--But what is worst of all, our beautiful Aurelia was seized with
such excessive terror, that all the efforts of the family to quiet her
were in vain,--and she was soon obliged to retire, to the utter despair
of the company. At the moment too, when you, Mr Leonard, so charmingly
laughed, the Baroness Aurelia is said to have shrieked out the name,
"Hermogen!" Now what may be the meaning of all this?--You are generally
a pleasant, lively, and prudent man, Mr Leonard, and I cannot regret
having confided to you the story of Francesco, which, if all suggestions
be true, must be to you particularly intelligible and instructive!"

During this discourse, the physician had continued to hold my arm, and
to gaze steadfastly in my face. Tired of this restraint, I disengaged
myself with some roughness--and answered--"I really know not how to
interpret all this discourse of yours, sir; but I must confess, that
when I saw the beautiful Aurelia surrounded by that tribe of conceited
young gentry, a very bitter remembrance from my early life was called up
in my mind; and that, seized with a kind of angry scorn at the behaviour
of such empty-brained coxcombs, I forgot in whose presence I was, and
laughed aloud in a manner that would only have been warrantable when I
was alone. I am truly sorry that I have unintentionally brought about so
much mischief; but I have done penance on that score, having for some
time denied myself the pleasure of being at court. I hope that the
Prince's family and the Baroness Aurelia will excuse me."

"Alas! dear Mr Leonard," said the Doctor, "one is indeed subject to
strange attacks and varieties of mind, which we might yet easily resist,
if we were but pure in heart, and quiet in conscience."

"Who is there," said I vehemently, "on this earthly sphere, that may
boast of being so?"--The physician suddenly changed his looks and tone.
Mildly and seriously he said--"Mr Leonard, you appear to me to be really
and truly sick: your looks are pale and disordered--your eyes are sunk,
and gleam with a strange kind of fire--your pulse, too, is feverish, and
your voice sounds strangely.--Shall I prescribe something for you?"

"Poison!" answered I, in a kind of hollow whisper.--"Ho, ho," said the
physician, "does it stand thus with you?--Nay, nay, instead of poison,
rather the tranquillizing and sedative remedy of pleasant society, and
moderate dissipation. It may, however, be, that"--(hesitating)--"It is
wonderful indeed, but----"

"I must beg of you, sir," said I, now quite angry, "not to torment me in
that manner by your broken hints, but at once to speak out."

"Hold!" answered the Doctor. "Not so fast, Mr Leonard--yonder comes the
Princess--there are in this world the strangest delusions, and for my
part, I feel almost a conviction that people have here built up an
hypothesis which a few minutes' explanation will dissolve into nothing.
Yonder, as I said, comes the Princess with Aurelia.--Do you make use of
this accidental rencontre. Offer your own excuses for your behaviour.
Properly, indeed, your only crime is, that you have laughed--in an
extraordinary tone it is true, and rather inopportunely. But who can
help it, if people with weak nerves have on that occasion chosen to be
so absurdly terrified?--Adieu!"

The physician started away with that vivacity which to him was
peculiar.--The Princess and Aurelia were coming down the walk to meet
me. I trembled; but with my whole strength laboured to regain composure,
for after the mysterious discourse of the physician, I felt that it was
my duty on the instant to defend my character. Resolutely, therefore, I
went forward to meet them; but no sooner had Aurelia fixed her eyes upon
me than she became deadly pale, and to my utter astonishment, with a
suppressed scream, she fell down in a fainting fit, to the ground. I
wished to assist her, but with looks of aversion and horror, the
Princess then motioned me away, at the same time calling loudly for
help!




CHAPTER II.


As if hunted by a thousand devils and furies, I ran away homewards
through the park--I shut myself up in my lodgings, and gnashing my teeth
with rage and despair, threw myself on the bed. Evening came, and then
the dark hours of night, and I still lay there obstinately cherishing my
grief. At last I heard the outer gate of the house open, and many voices
murmuring and whispering confusedly together. Then there was a noise of
heavy steps tottering and clattering up the staircase,--and with three
hollow knocks on my door, I was commanded to rise and open it in the
name of the magistracy. Without clearly comprehending the danger that
awaited me, I yet felt an instinctive conviction that I was now for ever
lost.

To save myself instantly by flight--This was my only thought, and I flew
to the window, tearing open the lattice. This, however, availed me
nothing,--for before the house door, I saw a troop of armed men, one of
whom directly observed me, and at the same moment, the door of my
apartment was burst in--several men immediately stood around me, whom I
recognized for officers of police, and who shewed me an order of the
Justiciary Court for my immediate imprisonment. Any attempt at
resistance would now have been in vain. They led me down stairs, and
placed me in a carriage, which stood there ready to receive me, and
which immediately drove off rapidly, through the streets.

When arrived at the place which seemed that of my destination, after
being led through divers passages and corridors; also up staircases
_that staircases were none_, but seemed (having no steps[1]) to be like
the side of a mountain; I inquired "Where I was?" I received for answer,
"In the prison of the upper castle." In this place, according to
information already received on the arrestment of others, I knew that
dangerous and treasonable criminals were shut up during the time that
their trial was going on, or was in preparation.

[Footnote 1: This is exemplified in the (old) royal palace at Berlin.]

My apartment was comfortless and ghastly enough; but, in a little time,
my bed and some other furniture were brought, and the gaoler asked if I
wanted anything more. To get rid of him, I answered "No;" and at last
was left alone. The receding steps through the long-sounding passages,
with the opening and shutting of many doors, if I had not known it
already, would have sufficiently made me aware that I was in one of the
innermost prisons of the fortress.

It was to myself inconceivable, how, during a pretty long drive, I had
remained quite quiet, nay, under a kind of stunning and stupefaction of
the senses. I beheld all images that passed before me, as if they
existed only in the half-effaced colours of a faded picture. Now, too, I
did not resign myself to sleep, but to a kind of faint or swoon,
paralysing the faculty of clear thought, and yet leaving me awake to the
most horrible and fantastic apprehensions.

When I awoke in the bright light of the morning, I, for the first time,
gradually took counsel with myself, and fully recollected all that had
happened, and whither I had been brought. As to the room wherein I lay,
its inconvenience made less impression on me than it would have done
upon another. The vaulted roof, and want of comfort, only reminded me of
my cell in the Capuchin Convent; and the chamber would scarcely have
appeared to me a prison, if it had not been that the small and only
window was strongly barred with iron, and so high, that I could scarcely
reach it with my upstretched hands, far less look out from it on the
prospect.

Only a narrow sunbeam fell through this high loop-hole; and being
anxious to examine the environs of my prison, I drew my bed to the wall
under it; over this placed my table, and was just in the act of mounting
up, when my gaoler stepped in and seemed very much surprised at my
proceedings. He inquired roughly what I was about there; and on
receiving for answer, that I only wished, for diversion, to look out at
the window, he did not say a word; but, in significant silence, made the
bed, the table, and chair, be taken away: after which, having set down
my breakfast, he again disappeared.

After about an hour, he came back, accompanied by two other men, and
led me through long passages, up stairs and down stairs, till I entered,
at last, into an audience-hall of moderate dimensions, where one of the
supreme judges awaited me. By his side sat a young man as secretary, to
whom he afterwards dictated whatever information he got from me, in
answer to his questions. I had to thank the influence of my former
station at Court, and the respect with which I had long been treated by
all ranks, for the politeness now shewn to me by this judge. However, I
was convinced that it could only be suspicions, founded on Aurelia's
extraordinary conduct, which had led to my arrestment.

The judge's first demand was, that I should give him a clear and concise
account of my former life. Instead of answering directly to this, I
begged to know whether I had not, in the first place, a right to know
the cause of my sudden imprisonment. He told me that I should, in due
time, have information of the crimes with which I was charged; but that,
meanwhile, it was of the utmost importance that he should learn the
exact course of my life up to that day when I first arrived at the
_residenz_; and he must remind me that, as the court possessed ample
means to detect the slightest deviation from truth, I should be watchful
for my own sake, to avoid any attempt at deception.

This admonishment of the judge (a little spare man, with red hair,
staring eyes, and an absurdly croaking voice) was by no means lost upon
me. I recollected that I had already ventured to give the name of my
birth-place, and some account of my life, to one of the court ladies;
and that the story which I had now to weave, must of necessity be such,
as to harmonize with that which I had already promulgated. It was also
requisite to avoid all marvellous and intricate adventures. Moreover, to
lay the scene, as much as possible, in a country so distant, that
inquiries into the reality of my references would be tedious and
difficult. At that moment too, there came into my remembrance, a young
Pole, with whom I had studied in the college at Koenigswald. I knew the
circumstances of his life, and as the safest method now in my power,
resolved to appropriate them as my own. Thus prepared, I set out as
follows:--

"My arrestment, no doubt, has arisen from the imputation against me of
some heavy crime. For a considerable period, I have lived here under the
eye of the Prince, and all the town's-people, and during that time, have
been guilty of no crime nor misdemeanour; consequently it must be some
stranger lately arrived here who has accused me of a crime formerly
committed; and as my conscience assures me that I am completely free
from any such guilt, I can only account for what has occurred, by
supposing that an unhappy personal resemblance betwixt myself and some
person unknown, has led to the mistake.

"However, it seems to me not a little severe, that on account of
_suppositions_ merely, (for here there can exist nothing more,) I should
be thus thrown into prison, and brought like a criminal for examination.
But why have I not been confronted at once with my rash, and perhaps
malicious accuser? I doubt not that individual will be found at last to
be some wicked impostor, or, at best, some misguided fool, who--"

"Softly--softly, Mr Leonard," croaked the judge. "Correct yourself,
otherwise your words may strike against some high personage; and,
besides, I can assure you, that the individual by whom you, Mr Leonard,
have been recognized as--" (here he bit himself in the lip) "is in
truth, neither rash nor foolish, but"--(hesitating) "and besides, we
have unquestionable intelligence from ---- in the Thuringian mountains."

Here he named the residence of the Baron von F.; and I perceived
immediately the dangers which threatened me. It was obvious that Aurelia
had recognized in me the monk, whom she probably looked upon as the
murderer of her brother. This monk, however, was Medardus, the preacher
of the Capuchin Convent, and as such had been recognized by the Baron's
steward Reinhold. The Abbess, however, knew that this Medardus was the
son of Francesco, and thus, my resemblance to him, which had so long
puzzled the Princess, must now probably have corroborated into certainty
the suspicions which the sisters had, no doubt, by letter communicated
to each other.

It was possible even, that intelligence had been received from the
Capuchin Convent; that I had been carefully watched upon my journey; and
that they had unequivocally identified my person with that of Medardus.

All these possibilities came crowding on my recollection, and forced me
to perceive the whole hazard of my situation. The judge, while I was
occupied in this reverie, still continued to talk on, which was very
advantageous, for I had time to repeat to myself the almost unutterable
name of the Polish town which I had assigned to the old lady at court as
the place of my birth. Scarcely, then, had the judge again repeated his
gruff demand, that I would concisely inform him as to my past course of
life, than I once more began--

"My proper name is Leonard Krczinski; and I am the only son of a Polish
nobleman, who had sold his property, and lived privately in the town of
Kwicziczwo."--

"How--what?" said the judge, endeavouring in vain to pronounce after me
either my name, or that of the town to which I had referred. The
secretary had no notion how he was to set the words on paper; I was
obliged to write down both names myself, and then went on--

"You perceive, sir, how difficult it is for a German tongue to imitate
these words of my language, which are so overburdened with consonants,
and herein consists the reason why I have chosen to lay aside my surname
altogether, and bear only my christian name of Leonard.

"But this is, indeed, the only mystery or singularity which I have to
unfold. The rest of my life is the simplest and most ordinary that could
be imagined. My father, who was himself a man of good education,
approved of my decided propensity to literature and the arts, and just
before his death, had resolved on sending me to Cracow, to live there
under the care of a clergyman related to him, by name Stanislaus
Krczinski. After that event, being my father's sole heir, I was left the
uncontrolled choice of my own actions. I therefore sold the small
remnant that was left of a paternal property, called up some debts that
were due to my father, and went with the pecuniary proceeds to Cracow,
where I studied some years under the guardianship of my relation.

"From thence I travelled to Dantzig and Koenigsberg; at last I was
driven, as if by irresistible impulse, to make a journey towards the
south. I trusted that the remainder of my small fortune would be
sufficient to carry me through, and that I should at last obtain a fixed
situation at some university; but in this town I had probably found my
means exhausted, if it had not been that one night's luck at the
Prince's pharo-table enabled me to live comfortably for some time, after
which I intended to prosecute my journey into Italy.

"As to anything truly remarkable or worthy of being related--no such
adventure has ever occurred in my life. Yet perhaps, (here I recollected
myself,) I ought not to say this, for I have at least one singular
occurrence to record. It would have been quite easy for me to prove
exactly the truth of all that I have now deposed, had not a very strange
chance deprived me of my _portefeuille_, in which was contained my pass,
my journal, and various letters, which would have supplied ample
documents for that purpose."

By this conclusion the judge was visibly surprised. It was evidently
something unexpected; he fixed his sharp staring eyes upon me, and then,
in a tone somewhat ironical, requested me to explain what strange
accident had thus unluckily put it out of my power to _prove_ (as might
have been hoped for) my assertions.

"Some months ago," said I, "I was on my way hither by the road leading
through the mountains. The fine season of the year, and the romantic
scenery, made me resolve to perform the journey on foot. One day, being
much fatigued, I sat in the public room of an inn at a small village. I
had there got some refreshments, and had drawn out a leaf from my
pocket-book, in order to take a drawing of some old houses that had
struck my fancy.

"At this time there arrived at the inn a horseman, whose extraordinary
dress and wild looks excited in me much astonishment. He came into the
public room obviously striving with much vain effort to look cheerful
and unconcerned, took his place opposite to me, and called for drink,
casting on me from time to time dark and suspicious glances. The man
seemed to me to be half mad, or something worse. I by no means liked
such company, and therefore, merely to avoid him, stepped out into the
court. Soon afterwards, the stranger also came out, paid the innkeeper,
hastily bowed to me, and remounting his horse, rode off at a rapid pace.

"Afterwards, as I was in the act of setting out myself, I remembered my
_portefeuille_, which I had left on the table of the public room. I
went and found it lying where I had left it, and, in my hurry, believed
all was right. It was not till the following day, that, wishing to refer
to my pocket-book, I found the _portefeuille_ was not mine, but had, in
all probability, belonged to the stranger, who must have, by mistake,
put up mine into his pocket, and left his own in its place.

"In the latter there was nothing but letters and cards, which to me were
unintelligible, addressed to Count Victorin. This _portefeuille_, with
the Count's papers, will be found still among my effects. In mine, which
was lost, I had, as before mentioned, my pass, my journal, and, as now
occurs to me, even my baptism certificate, the production of which would
at once have confirmed whatever regarding myself I have alleged."

The judge here desired that I would give him an accurate description,
from head to foot, of the stranger's personal appearance. Accordingly, I
patched up a skilful composition from the features and dress of the late
Count Victorin, and of myself when on my flight from the Baron's castle.
To the judge's cross-questioning as to all the minutest circumstances of
this meeting, to which there almost seemed no end, I continued to
answer as quietly and decisively as possible, till at last the fiction
that I had thus invented, rounded itself in such manner in my own mind,
that I actually believed all that I had asserted, and ran no risk
whatever of falling into contradictions.

Besides, there were other advantages; my first object indeed had only
been to justify my possession of these letters of Count Victorin, which
would be found in my _portefeuille_; but, by the method that I had
chosen to fulfil this purpose, I had luckily raised up an imaginary
personage, (one at least who no longer existed in reality,) who might
hereafter, as need required, play the part either of the fugitive
Medardus, or of the Count Victorin.

Afterwards, it occurred to me also that probably Euphemia's papers must
have been examined; that among them there were no doubt letters paving
the way for Victorin's plan of appearing as a monk at the castle, and
that this would form a fresh nucleus of clouds sufficient to wrap the
whole affair in impenetrable mystery.

Thus my internal fantasy continued to work, during the whole time of my
examination; and there were always new methods suggesting themselves,
by which I might avoid the risk of discovery; so that at last I believed
myself secure against the very worst that could happen.

I now waited in hopes that the judge would have recourse to the criminal
accusation which had been entered against me, and concluded that I had
said quite enough as to the fortune and adventures of my own past life.

I was mistaken, however, for he seemed as willing to go on with his
tiresome questions as if he had but just begun. Among other inquiries,
he asked, "For what reason I had formed the wish of escaping out of
prison?" I assured him that no such thought had ever entered my mind,
and that I had only wished to look out through the window. The gaoler's
testimony, however, as to the piled-up bed, chair, and table, seemed
here much against me. At last, after a most tedious interview, the judge
finally assured me, that if I attempted any prank of that sort again, I
must, of necessity, be bound to the ground with iron chains.




CHAPTER III.


I was then led back to my prison. My bed, as before mentioned, had been
removed, and a straw mattress in its stead laid on the ground. The table
was firmly screwed down, and, in place of the chair, I found a very low
wooden bench.

Many days passed over in dreary captivity, without any farther
examination, and without the slightest variety. The time of a prisoner
is seldom or never a blank; it is filled up by horrible phantoms and
distorted reveries, such as have often been described, though mine
probably were of a new character. The detail of them, however, is not
within the limits of my present undertaking; I record only simple facts,
in the manner of an obtuse old chronicler; and if there be a colouring
of imagination, it is not only unsought, but unwelcome and involuntary.

During these three days, I did not behold the features of any living
being, except the peevish face of an old sub-janitor, who brought my
food, and in the evening lighted my lamp. Hitherto, I had felt like a
warrior, who, in a mood of martial excitement, was determined, at all,
risks, to meet danger and fight his way to the last; but such passion
had now time enough to decline entirely away.

I fell into a dark melancholy trance, during which all things became
indifferent. Even the cherished vision of Aurelia had faded, or floated
in dim colours before me. But unless I had been in body as much
disordered as in mind, this state of apathy could not, of necessity,
continue long. In a short time my spirit was again roused, only to feel
in all its force the horrid influence of nausea and oppression, which
the dense atmosphere of the prison had produced, and against which I
vainly endeavoured to contend.

In the night I could no longer sleep. In the strange flickering shadows
which the lamp-light threw upon the walls, myriads of distorted visages,
one after another, or hundreds at a time, seemed to be grinning out upon
me. To avoid this annoyance, I extinguished my lamp, and drew the upper
mattress over my head--but in vain! It was now dark, indeed, but the
spectres were visible by their own light, like portraits painted on a
dark ground, and I heard more frightfully the hollow moans and rattling
chains of the prisoners, through the horrid stillness of the night.

Often did it seem to me as if I heard the dying groans of Hermogen and
Euphemia. "Am I then guilty of your destruction? Was it not your own
iniquity that brought you under the wrath of my avenging arm?" One night
I had broken out furiously with these words, when, on the silence that
for a moment succeeded, there distinctly and unequivocally arose a long
deep-drawn sigh or groan, differing from the noises which had disturbed
me before. The latter might have been imaginary--this was assuredly
real, and the sound was reverberated through the vault. Driven to
distraction, I howled out--"It is thou, Hermogen!--the hour of thy
vengeance is come--there is for me no hope of rescue!"

       *       *       *       *       *

It might be on the tenth night of my confinement, when, half-fainting
with terror, I lay stretched out on the cold floor of my prison. I
distinctly heard on the ground directly under me a light, but very
audible knocking, which was repeated at measured intervals. I listened
attentively. The noise was continued, as if with the determination to
attract attention, and occasionally I could distinguish a strange sound
of laughter, that also seemed to come out of the earth.

I started from the floor, and threw myself on the straw couch; but the
beating continued, with the same detestable variety of laughter and
groans. At last I heard a low, stammering, hoarse voice syllabically
pronounce my name--"Me-dar-dus!--Me-dar-dus!"--My blood ran ice cold
through every vein; but with a vehement effort I gained courage enough
to call out, "Who's there?"--The laughter now became louder--the beating
and groaning were renewed; again the stammering demon addressed
me--"Me-dar-dus!--Me-dar-dus!"

I rose from bed, and stamped on the floor. "Whoever thou art," cried I;
"man or devil, who art thus adding to the torments of an already
miserable captive, step forth visibly before mine eyes, that I may look
on thee, or desist from this unmeaning persecution!" The beating was now
right under my feet. "He--he--he!--he--he--he!--Broth-er,--Broth-er!
Open the door!--I am here--am here! Let us go hence to the wood--to the
wood!"

Now, methought I recognised the voice as one that I had known before,
but it was not then so broken and so stammering. Nay, with a chill
shivering of horror, I almost began to think there was something in the
accents that I now heard, resembling the tones of my own voice, and
involuntarily, as if I wished to try whether this were really so, I
stammered, in imitation, "Me-dar-dus!--Me-dar-dus!"

Hereupon the laughter was renewed, but it now sounded scornful and
malicious.--"Broth-er,--Broth-er," said the voice, "do you know me
again?--Open the door--the--the door!--We shall go hence, to the
wood--to the wood!" "Poor insane wretch!" said I; "I cannot open the
door for thee--I cannot enable thee to go forth into the pleasant woods,
to hear the fresh rustling of the leaves, or breathe the fragrance of
Heaven's pure atmosphere. I am, as thou art, shut up, hopeless and
abandoned, within the gloomy walls of a prison."

To this address I was answered only by sobs and moans, as if from the
bitterness of despairing grief; and the knocking became always more
faint and indistinct, till at last it ceased altogether; and from
exhaustion, I sunk into troubled slumber.

At length the morning light had broke in slanting gleams through the
window; the locks and keys rattled, and the gaoler, whom I had not seen
for many days, entered my room.

"Through the last night," said he, "we have heard all sorts of strange
noises in your apartment, and loud speaking. What means this?"

"I am in the habit," answered I, "of talking loudly in my sleep, and
even when awake I indulge in soliloquy. May not this much of liberty be
granted me?"

"Probably," said the gaoler, "it is known to you, that every endeavour
to escape, or to keep up conversation with any of your fellow-prisoners,
will be interpreted to your disadvantage?" I declared that I had never
formed any intentions of that kind; and after a few more surly remarks,
he withdrew.

Some hours after this, I was again summoned, as before, to the hall of
judgment. It was not, however, the judge by whom I had before been
examined, but a very different personage, who now sat on the bench. He
was a man apparently much younger in years, but far surpassing his
predecessor in cleverness and versatility.

Laying aside all the formality of office, he left his place, came up to
me in the friendliest manner, and invited me to take a chair.

Even at this moment his appearance is vividly present to my
recollection. In constitution he seemed, for his time of life, to be
much broken down; he was very bald, and wore spectacles. But in his
whole demeanour there was so much of kindness and good-humour, that, on
this account alone, I found it would be difficult for any one, but the
most reckless and hardened of criminals, to resist his influence.

His questions were thrown out lightly, almost in the style of ordinary
conversation, but they were well contrived, and so precisely couched,
that it was impossible to avoid giving him decisive answers.

"In the first place, I must ask you," said he, "whether all that you
have before deponed is perfectly consistent with truth; or, at least,
whether many other circumstances may not have occurred to you as
requisite to be told, in order to corroborate your former statement?"

"No," said I. "I have already freely communicated every circumstance
which I could mention, or which it can be necessary to mention, as to
the tenor of my simple and uniform life."

"Have you never associated much with clergymen, and with monks?"

"Yes--In Cracow, in Dantzig, Koenigsberg, Frauenberg. In the latter place
especially, with two lay monks, who officiated there as priest and
_capellan_."

"You did not state before that you were in Frauenberg?"

"Because I did not think it worth while to mention a short residence
there of about eight days, on my way from Dantzig to Koenigsberg."

"So, you are a native of Kwicziczwo?"

This question the judge put in the Polish language, and in the most
correct dialect, (all the while looking quite unconcerned, as if his
use of that language had been on the present occasion a matter of
course.)

For a moment this overthrew all my self-possession. I rallied, however;
tried to recollect what little Polish I had learned from my friend
Krczinski, and made shift to answer--

"On a small landed property of my father, near Kwicziczwo."

"What was the name of this estate?"

"Krczinzicswo--the family estate of my relations."

"For a native Pole, you do not pronounce your own language remarkably
well. To say the truth, you speak it rather like a German--How is this?"

"For many years I have spoken nothing but German. Even while in Cracow,
I had much intercourse with German students, who wished to learn from me
our difficult language. Unawares, I may have accustomed myself to their
accent, as one finds it very easy, when living in particular districts
of the country, to adopt provincialisms."

The judge here looked significantly on me. A slight smile passed over
his features; and, turning to the secretary, he dictated to him
something in a whisper, of which I could distinctly make out the words
"visibly embarrassed." Hereupon I wished to say something farther, in
excuse for my bad Polish, but the judge gave me no opportunity.

"Have you never been in Koenigswald, where there is a large Capuchin
Convent?"

"Never."

"The way hither from Koenigsberg should have led you to that town."

"I took another road."

"Have you never been acquainted with a monk from the convent there?"

"Never."

On receiving this answer, the judge rung the bell, and in a low voice
gave an order to the attending officer.

Soon afterwards, an opposite door opened, and how was my whole frame
shaken, and my very heart withered by terror, when I beheld the old
Brother Cyrillus! The judge asked,

"Do you know this man?"

"No. I have never seen him before."

It was now the monk's turn to speak. He came nearer; looked at me
stedfastly--then clasping his hands, while tears involuntarily burst
from his eyes--"Medardus!" cried he, "Brother Medardus! In God's name,
how comes it that I find you thus horribly changed? How came you into
this condition of abandoned and obdurate wickedness? Brother Medardus,
return into thyself--Confess--Repent!--The patience and long-suffering
of God are infinite."

"Can you then recognize this man," said the judge, "for the Monk
Medardus from the Capuchin Convent in Koenigswald?"

"As I hope for Heaven's mercy," answered Cyrillus, "it is impossible for
me to think otherwise. I believe that this man, although he now appears
in a lay dress, is that very Medardus, who lived under my care as a
novice at the Capuchin Convent, and whom I attended at the altar on the
day of his consecration. Yet Medardus had on his neck a scar, in the
shape of a cross, on the left side, and if this man----"

"You perceive," interposed the judge, turning to me, "that you are
looked upon as a runaway monk from the town of Koenigswald, and you may
rightly conjecture that the real monk alluded to has been guilty of
serious crimes. But this man has a particular mark on his neck, which,
according to your own account, you cannot have. This, therefore, at once
gives you the best opportunity to prove your innocence. Untie your
neckcloth."

"There is no need of this," answered I. "It is already certain, that an
exact personal resemblance exists between myself and the fugitive
criminal, who is to me wholly unknown; for I do bear a slight scar on my
throat, such as has been described."--"Remove your neckcloth," repeated
the judge. I did so; and the scar left by the wound from the Abbess's
diamond cross, which had never been effaced, was immediately perceived.
Hereupon Cyrillus uttered a loud exclamation.--"It is--it is the same
impression of the cross," he added.--"Medardus! oh Medardus! hast thou
then renounced thy eternal weal?"--Weeping and half fainting, he sunk
into a chair.

"What answers do you now make to the assertion of this venerable man?"
said the judge.

For a moment I felt as if lifted up and inspired by supernatural
strength. It seemed as if the devil himself came and whispered to me.

"What power have these despicable weaklings over thee, who art yet
strong and undaunted in spirit and in frame? Shall not Aurelia yet
become thine?"

"This monk," said I, with great vehemence, "who sits there fainting in
his chair, is a fantastic, feeble-minded, drivelling dotard. In his
absurd visions, he takes me for a runaway capuchin from his own convent,
to whom, as it happens, I bear a personal resemblance."

The judge had till now remained perfectly tranquil, without changing his
looks, gesture, or tone. Now, however, his visage, for the first time,
assumed a dark and lowering earnestness of expression. He rose, as if
the better to observe me, and even the glare of his spectacles was
intolerable to my feelings, so that I could not utter a word more of my
intended defence. For a moment I lost all self-possession. Abandoned to
rage and despair, I struck my clenched knuckles to my forehead, and, in
a tone which must have sounded unearthly, almost shrieked out the name
"Aurelia!"

"What do you mean by that, sir?" said the judge, in a voice which,
though calm, had yet the effect of thunder, and reverberated through the
vaulted roof of the audience-chamber.

"A dark and implacable destiny," said I, "dooms me to an ignominious
death. But I am innocent--I am wholly innocent of the crimes, whatever
they may be, that are charged against me. Have compassion, therefore;
and for the present, at least, let me go. I feel that madness begins to
rage through my brain, and agitate every nerve: therefore, in mercy, let
me go!"

The judge, who had resumed his seat, and become perfectly calm, dictated
much to the secretary, of which I did not know the import. At last he
read over to me a record, in which all his questions and my answers,
with the evidence of Cyrillus, were faithfully set down. This record I
was obliged to ratify by my own signature.

The judge then requested me, in a careless tone, to write for him, on
separate slips of paper, something in Polish and in German. I did so,
without being aware what object he had in view. He then immediately gave
the German leaf to Cyrillus, with the question, "Have these characters
any resemblance to the hand-writing of your brother, Monk Medardus?"

"It is precisely his hand even to the most minute peculiarities," said
Cyrillus; and turning to me, was about to speak; but a look of the judge
admonished him to silence. The latter examined carefully the leaf which
I had written in Polish. He then rose, quitted the bench, and came down
to me.

"You are no Pole," said he, in a serious and decisive manner. "This
writing is altogether incorrect, full of errors, both in grammar and
spelling. No native Pole would write in that style, even if he were
destitute of that education which you have enjoyed."

"I was born," said I, "in Kwicziczwo, and therefore am most certainly a
Pole; but even were this not really the case, and if circumstances
compelled me to conceal my true rank and name, yet it would by no means
follow, in consequence of this, that I must turn out to be the Monk
Medardus, who, as I understand, came from the Capuchin Convent in
Koenigswald."

"Alas! Brother," interposed Cyrillus, "did not our excellent Prior send
you to Rome, placing the fullest confidence in your fidelity, prudence,
and pious conduct; and is it thus that you requite him? Brother
Medardus, for God's sake, do not any longer, in this blasphemous manner,
deny the holy profession to which you belong."

"I beg of you not to interrupt us," said the judge, and, turning again
to me, proceeded--

"It is my duty to observe to you, that the disinterested evidence of
this reverend clergyman affords the strongest presumptions, that you are
actually that runaway monk, for whom you have been arrested. At the same
time, I ought not to conceal, that various other persons will be brought
forward, who also insist that they have unequivocally recognised you for
that individual. Among them is one, to whom your escape from the due
punishment or coercion of the law would be attended by no little danger,
at all events, by no little fear and apprehension. Besides, many things
have been discovered in your own travelling equipage, which support the
allegations against you.

"Finally, sir, you may rely, that inquiries will be set on foot as to
your pretended family, on which account application is already made to
the court at Posen. All these things I explain to you the more openly,
because it belongs to my office to convince you how little I wish, by
artifice, or any undue method, to extort from you the truth, which you
wish to conceal, but which, at all events, will soon be brought to
light. Prepare yourself, therefore, before-hand, as you best can. If you
are really that criminal named Medardus the Capuchin, you may be assured
that justice will soon penetrate through your deepest disguise; and you
will learn, in due time, the precise crimes of which you are accused.
If, on the other hand, you are Mr Leonard of Kwicziczwo, and only, by
some extraordinary _lusus naturae_, forced to resemble Medardus, you will
be furnished, even by us, with clear and decisive proofs to support this
identity.

"You appeared at your first trial, in a very disordered state of mind;
therefore I wished that you should be allowed sufficient time for mature
reflection. After what has taken place to-day, you will again have ample
store for meditation."

"Then," said I, "you look upon all that I have said to-day as utter
falsehood? You behold in me only the runaway monk Medardus?"

To this I received merely a slight parting bow, with the words, "Adieu,
Herr von Krczinski;" and I was forthwith led back to my prison.




CHAPTER IV.


Every word uttered by this judge had penetrated to my very heart, and I
was unable to subdue my vehement agitation. All the fictions that I had
invented seemed to me utterly absurd and insipid. That the chief person
who was to appear as my accuser, (and who was said to entertain such
fears of me if left at liberty,) was Aurelia, I could have no doubt. How
could I bear this, and how counteract her influence?

I considered afterwards what might have been suspicious among my
travelling effects, and was much vexed by the recollection, that since
my residence at the castle of the Baron von F----, I had retained in my
_portefeuille_, a hair ring, on which Euphemia's name was enwoven, and
which, perhaps, might be recognized by Aurelia. Besides, it had
unfortunately occurred, that in the forest I had bound up Victorin's
portmanteau with the knotted cord, which is part of the dress of our
order; and this had still remained in my possession.

Tormented by these thoughts, I gave myself up for lost; and unconscious
what I did, paced backwards and forwards in despair, through my narrow
chamber. Then it seemed as if there was a rushing and whispering in mine
ears,--"Thou fool," said a voice, "why should'st thou despair? Canst
thou not think on Victorin?" Hereupon, in a loud voice, I called
out--"Ha! the game is not lost!--Nay, it may yet be won!"

My heart beat, and my bosom heaved with new impulses. I had already
thought, that among Euphemia's papers there must, of necessity, be found
something which would point to Victorin's appearance at the castle as a
monk. Resting on this assumption, (or probability,) I would, at my next
examination, amplify on my former deposition as to the meeting with
Victorin; nay, why should I not also have met with the monk Medardus? I
could plead knowledge, also, of those adventures at the castle which
ended so frightfully, and repeat them as if they came to me by hearsay.
With such stories I could interweave references to myself, and to my
resemblance with both these people.

In order to attain my object, however, the most trifling circumstances
must be maturely weighed. I resolved, therefore, that I would commit to
writing the romance, by the incidents of which I was to be rescued. The
gaoler supplied me with the requisite materials, and I laboured with
great zeal till late in the night. In writing, my imagination was
roused, until I almost actually believed whatever I had set down to be
the truth; and I had in the closest manner spun together a web of
falsehood, wherewith I expected completely to blind the eyes of the
judge.

The prison-clock had struck twelve, when I again heard softly,
and as if from a distance, the knocking which, on the preceding day,
so much disturbed me. I had resolved that I would pay no attention
to this noise; but it approached nearer, and became louder. There
were again, at measured intervals, the same divertisements of
knocking, laughing, and groaning. I struck my hand with great vehemence
on the table--"Be quiet!" cried I--"Silence below there!" Thus I
thought that I should banish my persecutor, and recover my composure,
but in vain! On the contrary, there arose instantly a sound of
shrill discordant laughter, and once more the same detestable
voice--"_Brued-er-lein!--Brued-er-lein!_[2] Up to thee! Open the door!
Open the door!"

[Footnote 2: Little brother. One of the German diminutives of
familiarity or endearment.]

Then right under me commenced a vehement rasping and scratching in the
floor, accompanied by continuous groans and cachinnation. In vain did I
try to write, and persuading myself that these were but illusions of the
arch enemy, determined to hold them in contempt. The noise always became
more intolerable, and was diversified occasionally by ponderous blows,
so that I momentarily expected the gaolers to enter in alarm.

I had risen up, and was walking with the lamp in my hand, when suddenly
I felt the floor shake beneath my tread. I stepped aside, and then saw,
on the spot whereon I had stood, a stone lift itself out of the
pavement, and sink again. The phenomenon was repeated, but at the second
time I seized hold of the stone, and easily removed it from the
flooring.

The aperture beneath was but narrow, and little or no light rose from
the gulf. Suddenly, however, as I was gazing on it, a naked arm,
emaciated, but muscular, with a knife, or dagger, in the hand, was
stretched up towards me. Struck with the utmost horror, I recoiled from
the sight. Then the stammering voice spoke from below--"Brother--brother
Me-dar-dus is there--is there!--Take--take!--Break--break!--To the
wood!--To the wood!"

Instantly all fear and apprehension were lost. I repeated to myself,
"Take--take!--Break--break!" for I thought only of the assistance thus
offered me, and of flight! Accordingly I seized the weapon, which the
hand willingly resigned to me, and began zealously to clear away the
mortar and rubbish from the opening that had been made.

The spectral prisoner below laboured also with might and main, till we
had dislodged four or five large stones from the vault, and laid them
aside. I had been occupied in this latter purpose, that is, in placing
the large stones in a corner of my room, that they might not interrupt
my work; when, on turning round, I perceived that my horrible assistant
had raised his naked body as far as the middle, through the aperture
that we had made. The full glare of the lamp fell on his pale features,
which were no longer obscured as formerly, by long matted locks, or the
overgrown grizzly beard, for these had been closely shaven. It could no
longer be said that I was in vigorous health, while he was emaciated,
for in that respect we were now alike. He glared on me with the grin,
the ghastly laughter, of madness on his visage. At the first glance I
RECOGNIZED MYSELF, and losing all consciousness and self-possession,
fell in a deadly swoon on the pavement.

From this state of insensibility I was awoke by a violent pain in the
arm. There was a clear light around me; the rattling of chains, and
knocking of hammers, sounded through the vault. The gaoler and his
assistants were occupied in loading me with irons. Besides handcuffs and
ankle-fetters, I was, by means of a chain and an iron hoop, to be
fastened to the wall.

"Now," said the gaoler, in a satisfied tone, when the workmen had
finished, "the gentleman will probably find it advisable to give over
troubling us with his attempts to escape for the future!"

"But what crimes, then," said the blacksmith, in an under tone, "has
this obstreperous fellow committed?"

"How?" said the gaoler, "dost thou not know that much, Jonathan? The
whole town talks of nothing else. He is a cursed Capuchin monk, who has
murdered three men. All has been fully proved. In a few days there is to
be a grand gala; and among other diversions, the scaffold and the wheel
will not fail to play their part!"

I heard no more, and my senses were again lost. I know not how long I
remained in that state, from which I only painfully and with difficulty
awoke. I was alone, and all was utter darkness; but, after some
interval, faint gleams of daylight broke into the low deep vault,
scarcely six feet square, into which I now, with the utmost horror,
perceived that I had been removed from my former prison. I was tormented
with extreme thirst, and grappled at the water-jug which stood near me.
Cold and moist, it slipped out of my numbed hands before I had gained
from it even one imperfect draught, and, with abhorrence, I saw a large
overgrown toad crawl out of it as it lay on the floor. "Aurelia!" I
groaned, in that feeling of nameless misery into which I was now
sunk--"Aurelia!--and was it for this that I have been guilty of
hypocrisy and abominable falsehood in the court of justice--for this
only, that I might protract, by a few hours, a life of torment and
misery? What would'st thou," said I to myself, "delirious wretch, as
thou art? Thou strivest after the possession of Aurelia, who could be
thine only through an abominable and blasphemous crime; and however thou
might'st disguise thyself from the world, she would infallibly recognize
in thee the accursed murderer of Hermogen, and look on thee with
detestation. Miserable deluded fool, where are now all thy high-flown
projects, thy belief and confidence in thine own supernatural power, by
which thou could'st guide thy destiny even as thou wilt? Thou art wholly
unable and powerless to kill the worm of conscience, which gnaws on the
heart's marrow, and thou wilt shamefully perish in hopeless grief, even
if the arm of temporal justice should spare thee!"

Thus I complained aloud, but at the moment when I uttered these words, I
felt a painful pressure on my breast, which seemed to proceed from some
hard substance in my waistcoat pocket. I grappled with it accordingly,
and drew out, to my surprise, a small stiletto. Never had I worn any
such implement since I had been in the prison. It must, of necessity, be
the same which had been held up to me by my mysterious _double_. I
recognized the glittering heft. It was the identical stiletto with which
I had killed Hermogen, and which, for many weeks, I had been without!

Hereupon there arose in my mind an entire revolution. The inexplicable
manner in which this weapon had been returned to me, seemed like a
warning from supernatural agents. I had it in my power to escape at will
from the ignominious death that awaited me. I had it in my power to die
voluntarily for the sake of Aurelia. It seemed again as if there was a
rushing and whispering of voices around me; and among them Aurelia's
accents were clearly audible. I beheld her as when formerly she appeared
to me in the church of the Capuchin Convent. "I love thee, indeed,
Medardus," said she; "but hitherto thou understandest me not. In this
world there is for us no hope of enjoyment; the true festival and
solemnization of our love is--death." I now firmly resolved that I would
demand a new audience--that I would confess to the judge, without the
least reserve, the whole history of my wanderings, after which I would,
in obedience to the supposed warning, have recourse to suicide.

The gaoler now made his appearance, bringing me better food than usual,
with the addition of a bottle of wine. "It is by the command of the
Prince," said he, covering a table which his servant brought in after
him. He then proceeded to unlock the chain by which I was bound to the
wall.

Remaining firm in my determination, I took but little notice of this,
and earnestly requested that he would communicate to the judge my wish
for an audience that very afternoon, as I had much to disclose that lay
heavy on my conscience. He promised to fulfil my commission, and
retired.

Meanwhile, I waited in vain to be summoned to my trial. No one appeared
until such time as it was quite dark, when the gaoler's servant entered
and lighted my lamp as usual. Owing to the fixed resolution which I had
adopted, I felt much more tranquil than before; and, as the night wore
on, being greatly exhausted, I fell into a deep sleep.

My slumber was haunted, however, by a strange and very vivid dream.
Methought I was led into a high, gloomy, and vaulted hall, wherein I
saw, ranged along the walls, on high-backed chairs, a double row of
spectral figures, like clergymen, all habited in the black _talar_,[3]
and before them was a table covered with red cloth. At their head sat a
judge, and near him was a Dominican friar, in the full habit of his
order.

[Footnote 3: Long black robe.]

"Thou art now," said the judge, in a deep solemn voice, "given over to
the spiritual court; forasmuch as thou, obstinate and criminal as thou
art, hast attempted to deny thy real name, and the sacred profession to
which thou belongest. Franciscus, or, according to thy conventual name,
Medardus, answer, Dost thou plead guilty, or not guilty, to the crimes
of which thou hast been accused?"

Hereupon I wished to confess all that I had done, which, in my own
estimation, was sinful or blame-worthy. But, to my great horror, that
which I uttered was not the thoughts that existed in my mind, and which
I intended to deliver. On the contrary, instead of a sincere and
repentant confession, I lost myself in wandering desultory gibberish,
which sounded even in my own ears quite unpardonable.

Then the Dominican rose up, and, with a frightful menacing
look--"Away--to the rack with him," cried he, "the stiff-necked obdurate
sinner--to the rack with him--he deserves no mercy!" The strange figures
that were ranged along the wall rose up, stretched out their long
skeleton arms towards me, and repeated, in a hoarse horrible
unison--"Ay, ay!--to the rack with him--to the rack--to the rack!"

Instantly I drew out my stiletto and aimed it violently towards my
heart, but, involuntarily, it slid upwards to my throat, and striking on
that part wherein the diamond necklace of the Abbess had left the sign
of the cross, the blade broke in pieces as if it were made of glass, and
left me unwounded! Then the executioner seized me, removed me from the
audience-hall, and dragged me down into a deep subterranean vault.

_There_, however, my persecutions did not cease. The man once more
demanded of me whether I would not make a true confession? Accordingly,
I again made an attempt to do so, but my thoughts and words, as before,
were at variance. Deeply repentant, torn equally by shame and remorse,
I confessed all inwardly and in spirit; but whatever my lips brought
forth audibly, was confused, senseless, unconnected, and foreign from
the dictates of my heart. Hereafter, upon a sign received from the
Dominican, the executioner stripped me naked, and tied my wrists
together behind my back. How he placed me afterwards, I know not, but I
heard the creaking of screws and pulleys, and felt how my stretched
joints cracked, and were ready to break asunder. In the agony of
superhuman torture, I screamed loudly and awoke.

The pain in my hands and feet continued as if I had been really on the
rack, but this proceeded from the heavy chains which I still carried;
yet, besides this, I found a strange pressure on my eye-lids, which, for
some time, I was unable to lift up. At last, it seemed as if a weight
were taken from my forehead, and I was able to raise myself on my couch.

Here my nightly visions once more stepped forth into reality, and I felt
an ice-cold shivering through every vein. Motionless like a statue, with
his arms folded, the monk--the Dominican whom I had seen in my
dream--stood there, and glared on me with his hollow black eyes. In
that look, I at once recognized the expression of the horrible painter,
and fell, half fainting, back upon my straw-bed.

Yet, perhaps, thought I to myself, all this was but a delusion of my
senses, which had its origin from a dream. I mustered courage,
therefore--but the monk was there! He stood, as the painter had ever
done, calm and motionless, with his relentless dark eyes fixed upon me.

"Horrible man!" cried I, "Avaunt!--Away!--But no! Man thou art not. Thou
art the devil himself, who labours to drag me into everlasting
destruction!--Away!--I conjure thee, in the name of God, begone!"

"Poor, short-sighted fool!" answered the Dominican, "I am not the fiend
who endeavours to bind thee with his iron fetters; who seeks to turn thy
heart from those sacred duties to which thou hast, by Divine Providence,
been appointed!--Medardus, poor insane wanderer! I have indeed appeared
frightful to thee, even at those moments when thou should'st have
recognized in me thy best friend--when thou wert tottering within a
hair's-breadth of being hurled into the eternal gulf of destruction, I
have appeared and warned thee; but my designs have ever been perverted
and misunderstood. Rise up, and listen to what I would now say!"

The Dominican uttered this in a tone of deep melancholy and complaint.
His looks, which I had before contemplated with such affright, were
become relaxed and mild. My heart was roused by new and indescribable
emotions. This painter, who had haunted me like a demon, now appeared to
me almost like a special messenger of Providence, sent to console me in
my extreme misery and despair.

I rose from my bed, and stepped towards him. It was no phantom! I
touched his garments. I kneeled down involuntarily, and he laid his hand
on my head as if to bless me. Then, in the brightest colouring of
imagination, a long train of beautiful and cherished images rose on my
mind. I was once more within the consecrated woods of the Holy
Lime-Tree. I stood on the self-same spot of that favourite grove, where
the strangely-dressed pilgrim brought to me the miraculous boy. From
hence I wished to move onwards to the church, which I saw also right
before me. There only it appeared to me, that I might now, penitent and
repentant, receive at last absolution of my heavy crimes. But I remained
motionless; my limbs were powerless, and I could scarcely retain the
feeling of self-identity.--Then a hollow voice pronounced the words,
"The will suffices for the deed!"

The dream vanished. It was the painter who had spoken these words.

"Incomprehensible being!" said I, "was it then thou, who art here with
me as a friend, who appeared leaning on the pillar on that unhappy
morning in the Capuchin church at Koenigswald? At night, in the trading
town of Frankenburg? And now----"

"Stop there," said the painter; "it was I indeed who have been at all
times near to thee, in order, if possible, to rescue thee from
destruction and disgrace; but thy heart was hardened; thy senses were
perverted. The work to which thou wert chosen, must, for thine own weal
and salvation, be fulfilled."

"Alas!" cried I, in a voice of despair, "why, then, didst thou not
withhold mine arm from that accursed deed, when Hermogen----"

"That was not allowed me," said the painter. "Ask no farther. The
attempt to resist the eternal decrees of Omnipotence is not only sinful,
but hopeless presumption. Medardus, thou now drawest near to thy
appointed goal--_To-morrow_!"

At these words I shuddered; for I thought that I completely understood
the painter. I believed that he knew and approved my premeditated
suicide. He now retreated towards the door of my prison.--"When," said
I, with great earnestness, "when shall I see you again?"--"AT THE GOAL,"
said he, in a deep, solemn tone, that reverberated through the
vault.--"So then--_to-morrow_?" He would not answer. The door
opened--turned silently on its hinges--and the painter had vanished.




CHAPTER V.


The faint gleams of daylight had long since made their way through the
gloom of my wretched prison, when at last the gaoler made his appearance
with a train of attendants, who carefully and obsequiously took off the
fetters from my wounded arms and ankles. They announced also that I
should be very soon led up for a final audience in the judgment-hall.

The summons came accordingly. Deeply reserved, and wrapt up in my own
thoughts, becoming always more and more accustomed to the idea of
immediate death, I stepped into the audience-chamber. I had inwardly
arranged my confession in such manner, that I had only a short story to
tell, which would yet embrace every circumstance that was of importance.

To my astonishment, the judge, directly on my entrance, left the bench,
and came to meet me. I must have looked greatly emaciated and
disfigured; for a cheerful smile, that had been at first on his
countenance, changed itself obviously into an expression of the most
painful sympathy and compassion. He shook hands, and made me take
possession of a large arm-chair.

"Herr von Krczinski," said he, in a solemn diplomatic tone, "I am happy
in being able to announce to you some very agreeable intelligence. By
the Prince's commands, all proceedings against you are this day brought
to an end. It appears that people have hitherto confounded you with
another person; and of their mistaken accusations, your exact personal
likeness to that individual must bear the blame. Your innocence is now
established beyond the possibility of doubt. Mr Krczinski, _you are
free_!"

A frightful giddiness now attacked me. The room, with all its furniture,
seemed turning round. The figure of the judge was multiplied a thousand
fold before mine eyes, and I fell into a swoon. When I awoke, the
servants were rubbing my temples with eau de cologne; and I recovered so
far, as to hear the judge read over a short _Protokoll_, stating that he
had duly informed me of the process being given up, and of my final
release from prison. But some indescribable feelings arising from that
last interview with the painter, repressed all joy in my bosom. It
seemed to me as if now, when people believed me innocent, I should
voluntarily make a full confession of my crimes, and then plunge the
dagger into my heart.

I wished to speak; but the judge seemed to expect that I would retire,
and I retreated towards the door. He came after me a few steps. "I have
now," said he, in a low voice, "fulfilled my official duties, and may
confess that, from the first time of our meeting, you interested me very
much. Notwithstanding that appearances (as you must yourself allow) were
so greatly against you, yet I sincerely wished that you might not turn
out to be the horrible monster of wickedness for whom you had been
stigmatized. I may now repeat to you, in confidence, my conviction, that
you are no Pole: you were not born in Kwicziczwo: your name is not
Leonard von Krczinski."

With composure and firmness I answered, "No."--"Nor are you a monk,"
said the judge, casting his eyes on the ground, that he might not seem
to play the part of an inquisitor; but by this question I was
irresistibly agitated.--"Listen, then," said I, in a resolute tone, "and
I shall explain _all_."--"Nay, nay, be silent," said the judge. "What I
surmised at first is, according to my present belief, wholly confirmed.
I see that there is here some dark and deep mystery; and that, by some
inexplicable game of chances, your fate is involved with that of certain
personages of our court. But it is no longer my vocation to make
inquiries; and I should look upon myself as a presumptuous intermeddler,
if I wished to extort from you any of the real adventures of your life,
of which the tenure has probably been very peculiar.

"There is but one suggestion which I cannot help offering. Would it not
be well if you were to tear yourself away from this _residenz_, where
there is so much that is hostile to your mental repose? After what has
happened, it is almost impossible that your abode here can be agreeable
to you."

When the judge spoke in this manner, my mind again underwent an entire
revolution. All the dark shadows that had gathered around me were
suddenly dissolved. The spirit of life once more, with all its
enjoyments, vibrated through every nerve.--"Aurelia! Aurelia!--Should I
leave this place and forsake her for ever!"

The judge looked on me with an expression of the greatest
astonishment.--"God forbid, Mr Leonard," said he, "that a very frightful
apprehension, which has now risen up in my mind, should ever be
fulfilled. But you know best the nature of your own plans. I shall say
no more."

The hypocritical calmness with which I now answered him, was a proof
that my short-lived repentance was over and gone.--"So then," said I,
"you still look upon me as guilty?"--"Permit me, sir," said the judge,
"to keep my present fears to myself. They are, I must confess,
unsubstantiated by proof, and are perhaps the result of imaginary
apprehensions. It has been in the most conclusive manner proved, that
you are not the Monk Medardus; for that very man is in his own person
here among us, and has been recognized by the old Father Cyrillus,
though the latter had been deceived at the trial, by the exactitude of
your resemblance. Nay, this man does not deny that he is the Capuchin
Medardus, for whom you were arrested. Therefore everything has happened
that could have been desired, in order to free you from that first
imputation."

At that moment an attendant called the judge away, and thus the dialogue
was interrupted at the very time when it began to be disagreeable to me.
I betook myself forthwith to my old lodgings in the town, where I found
my effects placed carefully in the same order in which I had left them.
My papers had been put up in a sealed envelope. Only Victorin's
_portefeuille_ and the Capuchin's hair-rope were wanting. My
suppositions as to the importance that would be attached to the latter
article were therefore correct.

But a short time elapsed, when an equerry of the Prince made his
appearance, with a card from the Sovereign, and the present of a very
elegant box, set with diamonds. The card was in his usual familiar
style. "There have been very severe measures taken against you, Mr
Krczinski, but neither we ourselves, nor our court of justice, can
rightly be blamed. You are inconceivably like in person to a very wicked
and dangerous man. All now, however, has been cleared up to your
advantage. I send you a small token of my good will, and hope that we
shall see you soon."

The good will of the Prince and his present were at this moment both
indifferent to me. My long imprisonment had greatly enfeebled my bodily
strength, and the extreme excitement which I had undergone, was followed
by lassitude and relaxation. Thus I had sunk into a deep and dark
melancholy, and looked on it as very fortunate when the physician came
to visit me, and prescribed some remedies, which he judged absolutely
requisite for the restoration of my health. He then, as usual, entered
into conversation.

"Is it not," said he, "a most extraordinary chance, and concatenation of
circumstances, that, at the very moment when every one felt himself
convinced that you were that horrible monk, who had caused such
misfortunes in the family of the Baron von F----, this monk should
_himself_ actually appear, and rescue you at once from the impending
danger?"

"It would oblige me," said I, "if you would inform me of the minuter
circumstances which led to my liberation; for as yet I have only heard
generally that the Capuchin Medardus, for whom I had been taken, had
been found here and arrested."

"Nay, it is to be observed," answered the physician, "that he did not
come hither of his own accord, but was brought in, bound with ropes, as
a maniac, and delivered over to the police at the very time when you
first came to the _residenz_. By the way, it just now occurs to me that,
on a former occasion, when I was occupied in relating to you the
wonderful events which had happened at our court, I was interrupted,
just as I had got to the story of this abominable Medardus, the
acknowledged son of Francesco, and his enormous crimes at the castle of
the Baron von F----. I shall now take up the thread of my discourse
exactly where it was then broken off.

"The sister of our reigning Princess, who, as you well know, is Abbess
of a Cistertian monastery at Kreuzberg, once received very kindly, and
took charge of a poor deserted woman, who, with her infant son, was
travelling homeward, towards the south, from a pilgrimage to the Convent
of the Holy Lime-Tree."

"The woman," said I, "was Francesco's widow, and the boy was Medardus."

"Quite right," answered the physician; "but how do you come to know
this?"

"The events of this Medardus's life," said I, "have indeed become known
to me in a manner the strangest and most incredible. I am aware of them
even up to the period when he fled from the castle of the Baron von
F----; and of every circumstance that happened there I have received
minute information."

"But how?" said the physician; "and from whom?"

"In a dream," answered I; "in a dream I have had the liveliest
perception of all his sufferings and adventures."

"You are in jest," said the physician.

"By no means," replied I. "It actually seems to me, as if I had in a
vision become acquainted with the history of an unhappy man, who, like a
mere plaything in the hands of dark powers,--a weed cast on the waves of
a stormy sea, had been hurled hither and thither, and driven onward from
crime to crime. In the Holzheimer forest, which is not far from hence,
on my way hither, the postilion, one stormy night, drove out of the
right track, and there, in the _forst-haus_----"

"Ha! now I understand you," said the physician, "there you met with the
monk."

"So it is," answered I; "but he was mad."

"He does not seem to be so now," observed the physician. "Even at that
time, no doubt, he had lucid intervals, and told you his history."

"Not exactly," said I. "In the night, being unapprized of my arrival at
the _forst-haus_, he came into my room. Perhaps it was on account of the
extraordinary likeness existing betwixt us, that my appearance
frightened him extremely. He probably looked upon me as his _double_,
and believed that such an apparition of necessity announced his own
death. Accordingly, he began to stammer out strange confessions, to
which I listened for some time, till at last, being tired by a long
journey, I fell asleep; but the monk, not aware of this, continued to
speak on. I dreamed, but know not where the reality ended and the dream
began. So far as I can recollect, it appears to me that the monk
maintained that it could not be he who had caused the death of the
Baroness von F---- and Hermogen, but that they had both been murdered
by the Count Victorin."

"Strange, very strange!" said the physician. "But wherefore did you
conceal this mysterious adventure at your trial?"

"How could I imagine," answered I, "that the judge would attach any
importance to such a story? At best, it must have appeared to him a mere
romance; and will any enlightened court of justice receive evidence
which even borders on the visionary and supernatural?"

"At least," replied the physician, "you might have at once supposed that
people were confounding you with this insane monk, and should have
pointed out him as the real Capuchin Medardus?"

"Ay, forsooth," answered I; "and in the face of the venerable Father
Cyrillus, (such, I believe, was his name,) an old dotard, who would
absolutely have me, right or wrong, to be his Capuchin brother? Besides,
it did not occur to me either that the insane monk was Medardus, or that
the crime which he had confessed to me was the object of the present
process. But the keeper of the _forst-haus_ told me the monk had never
given up his name. How, then, did people here make the discovery?"

"In the simplest manner," said the physician. "The monk, as you know,
had been a considerable time with the forester. Now and then, it seemed
as if he were completely cured; but at last he broke out again into
insanity so frightful, that the forester was obliged to send him hither,
where he was shut up in the mad-house. There he sat night and day, with
staring eyes, and motionless as a statue. He never uttered a word, and
must be fed, as he never moved a hand. Various methods were tried to
rouse him from this lethargy, but in vain; and his attendants were
afraid to try severe measures, for fear of bringing back his outrageous
madness.

"A few days ago, the forester's eldest son came to the _residenz_, and
desired admittance into the mad-house, to see the monk, which,
accordingly, was granted him. Quite shocked at the hopeless state in
which he found the unhappy man, he was leaving the prison, just as
Father Cyrillus, from the Capuchin Convent in Koenigswald, happened to be
going past. He spoke to the latter, and begged of him to visit a poor
unhappy brother, who was shut up here, as, perhaps, the conversation of
one of his own order might be beneficial to the maniac.

"To this Cyrillus agreed; but as soon as he saw the monk, he started
back, with a loud exclamation--'Medardus!' cried he; 'unhappy Medardus!'
And at that name the monk, who before scarcely shewed signs of life,
began to open his eyes, and attend to what went forward. He even rose
from his seat; but had scarcely done so, when, seemingly overpowered by
his cruel malady, (of which he was himself not unconscious,) he uttered
a strange hollow cry, and fell prostrate on the ground.

"Cyrillus, accompanied by the forester's son and others, went directly
to the judge by whom you had been tried, and announced this new
discovery. The judge went back with them to the prison, where they found
the monk in a state of great weakness; but (judging by his conversation)
not at all under the influence of delirium. He confessed that he was
Medardus, from the Capuchin Convent in Koenigswald; and Cyrillus agreed
on his side, that your inconceivable resemblance to this Medardus had
completely deceived him.

"Now, however, he remarked many circumstances of language, tone, and
gesture, in which Mr Leonard differed from the real Capuchin. What is
most of all remarkable is, that they discovered on the neck of the
madman the same mark, in the form of a cross, to which so much
importance was attached at your trial. Several questions also were now
put to the monk, as to the horrid incidents at the castle of the Baron
von F----, to which the only answers they could then obtain were in
broken exclamations. 'I am, indeed,' said he, 'an accursed and abandoned
criminal; but I repent deeply of all that I have done. Alas! I allowed
myself to be cheated, by temptations of the devil, out of my own reason,
and out of my immortal soul. Let my accusers but have some compassion on
me, and allow me time--I shall confess all.'

"The Prince being duly advised of what had happened, commanded that the
proceedings against you should be brought to an end, and that you should
be immediately released from prison. This is the history of your
liberation. The monk has been brought from the mad-house into one of the
dungeons for criminals."

"And has he yet confessed all? Is he the murderer of Euphemia, Baroness
von F----, and of Hermogen? How stands public belief with regard to the
Count Victorin?"

"So far as I know," said the physician, "the trial of the monk was only
to begin this day. As to Count Victorin, it appears that nothing farther
must be said of him. Whatever connection those former events at our
court may seem to have with the present, all is to remain in mystery and
oblivion."

"But," said I, "how the catastrophe at the Baron's castle can be
connected with these events at your Prince's court, I am unable to
perceive."

"Properly," answered the physician, "I allude more to the dramatis
personae than to the incidents."

"I do not understand you," said I.

"Do you not remember," said the physician, "my relation of the
circumstances attending the Duke's death?"

"Certainly," answered I.

"Has it not then become clear to you," resumed the doctor, "that
Francesco entertained a criminal attachment towards the Italian
Countess? That it was he who made his entrance secretly into the bridal
chamber, and who poniarded the Duke? Victorin, as you know, was the
off-spring of that crime. He and Medardus, therefore, are sons of one
father. Victorin has vanished from the world, without leaving a trace of
his fate. All inquiries after him have been in vain."

"The monk," said I, "hurled him down into the Devil's Abyss, amid the
Thuringian mountains. Curses on the delirious fratricide!"

Softly, at the moment after I had pronounced these words, there came on
my ears, from underneath the floor whereon we stood, the same measured
knocking which I had heard in my dungeon. Whether this were imagination
or reality, the effect on my feelings was the same. I could not contend
against the horror which now seized me. The physician seemed neither to
remark my agitation, nor the mysterious noise.

"What!" said he, "did the monk then confess to you that Victorin also
fell by his hand?"

"Yes," answered I. "At least I drew this conclusion from various
passages in his confused and broken confessions--connecting them also in
my own mind with the sudden disappearance of Victorin. Woe--woe to the
relentless fratricide!"

The knocking was now more powerful. There was again a
moaning and sobbing. Methought a shrill laughter sounded
through the air, and I heard the same stammering
voice--"Me-dar-dus--Me-dar-dus!--He--he--he--Help,
help!--He--he--he--Help, help!"--I was amazed that the physician
took no notice of this, but he quietly resumed.

"An extraordinary degree of mystery seems to rest upon Francesco's
appearance at our court. It is highly probable that he also was related
to our Prince's house. This much; at least, is certain, that Euphemia,
Baroness von F----, was the daughter----"

With a tremendous stroke, so that the bolts and hinges seemed broken
into splinters, methought the door flew open, and I heard the voice of
the spectre absolutely scream with laughter. I could not bear this any
longer. "Ho--ho--ho! _Brued-er-lein!_" cried I. "Here am I--Here am
I!--Come on--come on quickly, if thou would'st fight with me--Now the
owl holds his wedding-feast, and we shall mount to the roof, and contend
with each other. There the weather-cock sings aloud, and he who knocks
the other down, is king, and may drink blood!"

"How now?" cried the physician, starting up, and seizing me by the arm.
"What the devil is all that? You are ill, Mr Leonard, dangerously ill.
Away--away with you to bed!"

I continued, however, staring at the open door, momentarily expecting
that it would open, and that my horrible _double_ would enter _in
propria persona_. Nothing appeared, however, and I soon recovered from
the delirium and horror which had seized upon me.

The physician insisted that I was much worse than I supposed myself to
be, and attributed all the mental derangement and wildness that I had
betrayed, to the effects of my long imprisonment, and the agitation
which, on account of my trial, I must have undergone.

I submissively used whatever sedative remedies he prescribed; but what
most of all contributed to my recovery was, that the horrible knocking
was not heard any more, and that the intolerable _double_ seemed to have
forsaken me altogether.




CHAPTER VI.


The delightful season of spring had now once more returned. Every
morning the birds serenaded me at the window of my lodgings, which were
in a garden-house, near a street called the Parterre, not far from the
river. Doubtless, the year is never so delightful and interesting as
when all things are yet undeveloped, and in their prime; when the
gardener is yet going about, with his hatchet, and bill-hook, and large
sheers, lopping the branches, though the flourishing boughs are already
redolent of green buds, that give out their fresh odours in the warm
sun. One says to himself--Let the gardener, or pruner, do his worst--let
him remove every unprofitable branch, so that the daylight may fall into
the most secret recesses, where the loves of a former year have been
celebrated and are gone by, yet the trees will, ere long, be in their
full luxuriance--all that he has lopped away will soon be more than
amply replaced.

It is the season of hope and bright anticipations. Every new flower that
rises from the teeming earth, and every bright green leaf that breaks
forth along the southern slope of the forest, calls forth responsive
feelings of buoyancy and delight in the soul.

Thus it happened, that one morning the vernal sun darted his unclouded
golden gleams into my chamber. Sweet odours of flowers streamed through
the open window, for the wind was in the south-west. The birds, as
usual, cheered me with their songs.

An irresistible longing urged me to go forth, and wander at will through
the open country. Despising, therefore, the directions of my physician,
I dressed, went down stairs, and betook myself, in the first place, to
the Prince's park. There the trees and shrubs, rustling with their
new-born green leaves, greeted the weakly convalescent. It seemed as if
I had just awoke from a long and heavy dream; and deep sighs were the
inexpressive tokens of rapture which I breathed forth, amid the joyous
carolling of birds, the humming of insects, and gladness of all nature.

Ay, life itself now appeared to me like a heavy and frightful dream, not
only for the time lately passed, but through the whole interval since I
had left the convent. I now found myself in a walk, shaded by dark
platanus trees, which give out their green leaves very early in the
year; and gradually I became lost in reverie. Methought I was once more
in the garden of the Capuchin Convent at Koenigswald. Out of the distant
thickets rose already the well-known lofty crucifix, at which I had so
often prayed with fervent devotion for strength to resist all
temptation.

The cross seemed to me to be now that only goal, after which I ought to
strive; _there_, prostrate in the dust, to do penance for the sinful
dreams in which I had indulged, for the guilty delusions into which I
had been led by the Arch-fiend. I stepped forward, therefore, with my
clasped hands lifted up, and with my eyes fixed upon the cross.
Methought I heard the pious hymns of the monks borne upon the air; but
it was only the mysterious voice of the woods, where the wind was up
amid the yet dry branches and the verdant foliage.

Its influence was more than in my weakly condition I could yet bear. I
was soon obliged to support myself against a tree, and even to lie down
on the turf: yet I never lost sight of the cross, but collecting my
whole strength, rose again, and tottered on. However, I could only reach
a rustic moss-seat, in front of the consecrated thicket, where, like a
weak old man, I sat languidly down, and in hollow groans tried to
lighten the anguish of my oppressed heart.

How long I remained in this situation, I know not. But at last I heard a
rustling, and the sounds of light steps on the walk. Instinctively, I
knew whom I was to expect--AURELIA! Scarcely had I formed the thought,
when, turning the corner of an opposite walk leading towards the seat,
she stood visibly before me!

Description here fails me, nor indeed have I in this narrative often
attempted to describe. Tears glistened in her heavenly blue eyes; but
through those tears gleamed a kindling light of love, which was,
perhaps, foreign to the saint-like character of Aurelia. This
expression, however, reminded me at once of that mysterious visitant of
the confessional, whom in my cherished dreams I had so often beheld.
Aurelia advanced towards me. She accepted my proffered hand. "Can you,"
said she in a low voice--"Can you ever forgive me?"

Then losing all self-possession, I threw myself on the ground before
her. I seized her hand, and bathed it with my tears.--"Aurelia,
Aurelia!" cried I, "for thy sake, gladly would I endure martyrdom!--I
would die a thousand deaths!" I felt myself gently lifted up. It was
Aurelia who raised me, and who afterwards sunk into my arms. I scarcely
know how these moments passed. Probably our interview was short, for I
remember only these words--"All my best hopes are now fulfilled--all the
mysterious fears that have haunted me are at an end!--But see! we are
observed." She quickly disengaged herself from my embrace, and I saw the
Princess coming up one of the walks. Not wishing at present to venture
an interview with one whom I had never dared to look on as a friend, I
retired into the thicket, where I discovered that the object which I had
mistaken for a crucifix, was only the grey withered stem of an old
pollard willow.

From that moment, I no longer felt any effects of my severe illness, far
less any influence of melancholy. The kiss of reconciliation which I had
thus received from Aurelia, inspired me with new life; and it seemed as
if, for the first time, I enjoyed the mysterious raptures of which even
this our terrestrial existence is susceptible. For the first time, I
knew the happiness of mutual love! I stood upon the highest pinnacle of
worldly fortune, and my path must, from henceforth, lead downwards, in
order to conduct me to that goal which the powers of darkness had seemed
to mark out for my final destination.

It was a dream of happiness like this to which I alluded, when I before
painted the delights of my first meeting again with Aurelia at the
Prince's court. Then I addressed myself to thee, oh stranger! who may
one day read these pages. I requested thee to recall the bright sunny
days of thy first love, and to imagine that dark disappointment had
annihilated every prospect painted for thee by the fairy hands of
Hope--then would'st thou be able to sympathize with the unhappy monk,
who, in his solitary prison, moaning over the remembrance of his early
visions, lay the victim of despair. Yet once more I beg of you to
recall that happy time--but now let there be no thought nor apprehension
of disappointment--and I need not then attempt to describe to thee the
supernatural light that was now shed on my path by my fortunate love. No
gloomy thoughts had longer any influence over my mind; I began even to
entertain a firm conviction that I was not the reckless criminal who, at
the Baron's castle, had killed Hermogen and Euphemia, but that it was
actually the delirious monk whom I had met at the _forst-haus_, that had
been the culprit.

All, therefore, that I had said to the physician appeared to me no
longer the fiction of my own brain, but the true narrative of events
which to myself remained mysterious and inexplicable. The Prince had
received me with the utmost kindness as a valued friend, whom he had
believed lost, and by whose unexpected return he had been greatly
rejoiced. This conduct of the Sovereign naturally gave the tone to that
of all my former acquaintances at court; only the Princess seemed still
to look upon me with coldness and reserve.

I had now the opportunity of daily meetings with Aurelia, nor did any
one venture remarks on our attachment. Many times our interviews were
without witnesses; but on these occasions her saint-like purity,
mildness, and timidity of character, which I could not but observe,
inspired me with an involuntary awe and reverence. I felt that she
placed in me implicit confidence, and with no one, not even with the
nearest relation, could such meetings have been more safe.

       *       *       *       *       *

For several days I had not seen Aurelia. She had gone with the Princess
to a neighbouring summer-house in the forest. At last I could not bear
her absence, but determined on a pedestrian excursion thither.

When I arrived, it was already late in the evening. The sun had declined
in red effulgence in the west. The air was filled with the odoriferous
breath of young leaves and flowers, and the woods resounded with the
sweetest notes of unnumbered nightingales. The approach to the
Princess's country-house was through a very long avenue of magnificent
pine-trees, whose massy down-hanging branches swept the ground, waving
in the balmy evening breeze with a mysterious murmur; and,
notwithstanding all the enchantments of the hour and scene, methought I
almost heard a warning voice pronounce the word, "Beware!" whereupon I
only quickened my pace, and with a beating heart arrived at the
garden-gate of the summer-house.

In the garden I met with one of the maids of honour, who pointed out to
me the wing of the chateau in which were Aurelia's apartments, for I by
no means wished to encounter the Princess. Softly I opened the door of
the anti-room, from which the warm breath of flowers and exotic plants
greeted me with their almost too-powerful fragrance. Remembrance was
busy with her dim illusions. "Is not this," said I, "the _identical_
chamber of Aurelia at the Baron's castle, where, on that fatal
night----" Scarcely had I formed this idea, when methought a dark form
reared itself up in gigantic height behind me, and, with terror that
shook my inmost heart, I heard a voice pronounce the name, "Hermogen!"

Losing all self-possession, I tottered onwards. I intended to knock, but
the door of the cabinet was ajar, and I saw Aurelia kneeling at a
_tabourett_, on which there was an open book, and above it a crucifix. I
looked back trembling, to see if the spectre was yet there, but it was
now vanished; then, in a tone of rapture, though not such as to alarm
her, I called out, "Aurelia--Aurelia!" "Is it possible," said she,
softly--"Leonard, my beloved, how came you hither?" She arose, and in
the next moment was folded in my arms. Her luxuriant hair hung
dishevelled over my head and shoulder. I felt her heart beat, and saw
her eyes gleam with unwonted fire; but at that moment there was a noise
behind us as if from the strong and powerful beating of wings. A moan
like the death-cry of one mortally wounded, sounded through the chamber.
"Hermogen!" cried Aurelia, and sunk fainting out of my arms. I placed
her on the sofa, but, in a voice of horror, she cried to me,
"Away--away! I command, I beseech you, begone!"

Scarcely knowing what I did, I left the room, and soon afterwards found
myself, unawares, in the entrance-hall of the ground-floor, where I was
met by the Princess. She looked at me gravely and haughtily. "Mr
Leonard," said she, "I am indeed not a little surprised to find you
here--What means this intrusion?" By a violent effort, combating my
distraction, I stammered out some incoherent apologies, by which I
perceived, from the looks of the Princess, that she was by no means
satisfied. On the contrary, I durst not venture to remain longer in the
house, but, after a hasty obeisance, betook myself to the front-gate,
and departed.

As I passed once more through the darkness amid the waving pine-trees,
methought I no longer walked alone! On the contrary, it seemed to me as
if some person ran all the way very near me, keeping time with my steps,
and as if I heard a stammering voice, which pronounced the words,
"Ev-er--ev-er am I with thee! Broth-er--broth-er Me-dar-dus! Go whither
thou wilt, east, north, or south, I am ever with thee!"

Hereupon I paused and looked round me; I became convinced that this
horrible _double_, by whom I was haunted, had his existence only in my
own disturbed imagination. However, I could by no means get rid of the
frightful image; he continued to run along by my side, and to speak with
me at intervals, till at last it seemed to me as if I must actually
enter into conversation, and relate to him the recent adventures of my
life. Accordingly, I confessed that I had just now been very foolish,
and had allowed myself once more to be terrified by the insane Hermogen;
however, that St Rosalia should now very soon be irrevocably mine, and
that, for her sake only, I had become a monk, and received the
investiture and consecration.

Then my detestable _double_ laughed and groaned as he had before done,
and stuttered out--"But lose no time--lose no time--Quick-ly, quick-ly!"

"Nay, have a little patience," said I, "and all will go well. Only, the
blow that I struck Hermogen has not been deep enough. He has got one of
those damned protecting crosses in the throat, even as thou hast, and I
have! But my stiletto, which thou hast preserved for me, is still sharp
and bright!"--"He--he--he!--He--he--he!--Strike him well, then--strike
him well!" Such were the accents of my infernal companion, amid the dark
rushing of the pine-tree woods; nor did they end there. The same
persecution accompanied me almost the whole way homeward into town,
until at last, the fresh morning wind cooled the burning fever of my
brow, and a roseate splendour advancing in the east, announced the dawn
of a new vernal day.

I had enjoyed only about two hours' broken rest at my lodgings, when I
received a summons to attend the Prince. I betook myself immediately to
the palace, where he received me very cordially.

"In truth, Mr Leonard," he began, "you have won my good opinion in the
highest degree. I cannot conceal from you that my prepossessions in your
favour have ripened into real friendship. I should be sorry to lose you,
and would rejoice in contributing to your happiness. Besides, it is our
duty to atone to you as much as possible, for all that you have been
made to suffer among us. By the way, Mr Leonard, do you know what was
the direct cause of the process against you--that is, who first accused
you?"

"No, sire," answered I.

"Baroness Aurelia," said the Prince,--"you are astonished. Nay, it is
very true, Baroness Aurelia, Mr Leonard, mistook you for a
Capuchin."--(He laughed heartily.)--"Now, if you are a Capuchin, you are
certainly the politest and best-favoured of that order that has ever
fallen under my notice. Say, in truth, Mr Leonard, have you ever been a
monk?"

"Sire," answered I, "I know not by what wicked fatality I am always to
be transformed into a monk; but----"

"Well, well!" interrupted the Prince, "I am no inquisitor. It would be a
serious disaster, however, if you were bound by any clerical vows. But
to the point--Would you not like to have your revenge on Aurelia for the
mischief that she has brought on you?"

"In what mortal's breast," said I, "would such a thought as that of
revenge arise against the amiable Baroness?"

"Do you not love Aurelia?" said the Prince.

I was silent, but replied by an expressive gesture, laying my hand on my
heart.

"I know it," resumed his highness. "You have loved this young lady since
that moment when she, for the first time, made her appearance here with
the Princess. Your affection is returned, and indeed with a fervour of
which I scarcely believed the mild Aurelia to be capable. The Princess
has told me all, and I know that she lives only for you. Would you
believe, that after your imprisonment, Aurelia gave herself up to a mood
of utter despondency, and became at last so ill, that we entertained
serious apprehensions for her life? She at that time looked upon you as
the murderer of her brother, and her grief, therefore, appeared to us
unaccountable; but the truth was, that even then she loved you.

"Now, Mr Leonard, or Mr von Krczinski, (for you are by birth noble,) I
shall fix you at the court in a manner that will be agreeable to you.
You shall marry Aurelia, and in a few days we shall solemnize the
betrothment. I myself will act in place of the bride's father.
Meanwhile, adieu!" The Prince, in his usual abrupt manner, then left the
audience-chamber.




CHAPTER VII.


Aurelia my wife!--the wife of a perjured and apostate monk! It may seem
incredible that my mind could undergo so many changes; but it is
nevertheless true, that though this idea had so long been cherished, and
had been familiar to myself, yet now, when I for the first time heard it
announced by another, it was attended by a clear perception of its
unfitness, and the almost utter unfeasibility of its realization. No!
said I to myself, the dark powers by whom my actions have been
instigated, whatever else of evil they may have in store, cannot have
resolved on this! I endeavoured to combat these fears, but in vain; and
yet to determine on voluntary separation from Aurelia was impossible.

It was the idea of the marriage ceremony, which filled me with a degree
of terror to myself inexplicable. I believed, indeed, that if the
perjured monk dared to kneel before the altar, making a mockery of
sacred vows, then, of necessity, the figure of that spectral omnipresent
painter, not with a demeanour mild and friendly as in the prison, but
announcing vengeance and destruction, would appear--as at Francesco's
marriage--to overwhelm me with disgrace and misery.

But then methought I heard, in a deep solemn tone, the words, "And yet
must Aurelia be thine! Weak-minded fool! How durst thou think of
changing that destiny which hangs over her and thee?" Scarcely were
these words uttered, when another voice rose within me--"Down--down!
throw thyself into the dust, thou blind wicked mortal! Never can she be
thine!--It is the blessed St Rosalia herself, whom thou madly think'st
to clasp in the embraces of terrestrial passion!"

Thus utterly at variance with myself, tost hither and thither by
contending impulses, I had left the palace, and wandered through the
park, in a state of such distraction, that, to arrive at any rational
plan for my future conduct, was wholly impossible. Past and gone was now
that happier mood, in which I had looked upon my whole former life, and
especially on my adventures at the Baron's castle, as a frightful
dream! On the contrary, I saw in myself only a base criminal, and
hypocritical deceiver. All that I had said to the physician and the
judge was only a collection of foolish and badly invented falsehoods, by
no means inspired, as I had before persuaded myself, by any supernatural
voice, but the off-spring of my own feeble ingenuity.

Lost and wrapt up in these bitter reflections, I was hurrying through
the streets towards my lodgings, when I was overtaken by one of the
Prince's carriages, which immediately stopped. I heard my own name
pronounced aloud, and saw that I was beckoned to by the physician, who
alighted, and immediately took me with him to his apartments.

"What means all this?" said he, "you violent unreasonable man! You have
thought proper, it seems, to make your appearance like a ghost to the
Baroness Aurelia, in the gloom of night too, so suddenly, that the poor
nervous young lady has been almost frightened out of her senses, and has
been attacked by serious indisposition--Well, well," (continued he,
perceiving a change in my countenance,) "I must not frighten you. Her
illness has not lasted long. She has again been out walking, and will
return to-morrow with the Princess into town. Of you, Mr Leonard, the
Baroness has in confidence said much to me. She longs greatly to see you
again, and to excuse herself; for she allows, that her conduct at your
last visit, must have appeared to you both childish and silly."

When I reflected on what had really passed at the summer-house, I was at
a loss how to interpret these expressions of Aurelia. The physician,
however, gave me no time to brood over this, but indulged in his usual
vein of loquacity. He gave me to understand, that he was perfectly aware
of the Prince's views for my advancement in rank, and marriage with
Aurelia. Hereupon reverting to her late fit of nervous irritability, he
gave, wickedly enough, such a caricature (for he was an excellent mimic)
of her conduct and expressions, when he had arrived express at the
summer-house, contrasting these also, with the grave ceremonious
_hauteur_ of the Princess, that I was forced, even against my will, to
laugh, (for the good humour of the physician was infectious,) and
gradually recovered a degree of cheerfulness, which, but a few minutes
before, I had supposed lost for ever.

"Could the imagination of any man," said the physician, "have
anticipated, when you came to our _residenz_, that so many wonderful
events would, in so short a time, have taken place: First, the absurd
misunderstanding which brought you as a criminal before the Justiciary
Court--Then the truly enviable fortune which has acquired for you the
special friendship and patronage of the Prince!"

"His highness," said I, "no doubt treated me from the first with marked
condescension and politeness. As to the advances that I have lately made
in his good graces, I ascribe this to his recollection of the unjust
prosecution by which I suffered, and which he is now desirous to atone
for."

"The Prince's favour," said the physician, "perhaps is not owing so much
to this, as to another circumstance, which you, no doubt, can guess."

"I cannot," answered I.

"The people, it is true," resumed the physician, "continue to give you
the same name which you assumed on your first arrival. Every one knows,
however, that you are by birth noble, as the intelligence which has been
received from Poland confirms all that you had asserted!"

"Admitting this intelligence to have been received," said I, "I know not
why it should have any influence on my reception at court, since, at my
first introduction there, I declared that I had no pretensions to any
rank beyond that of a citizen _particulier_, and yet was treated by all
with kindness, and even respect."

To this the physician replied, by a harangue, which lasted nearly an
hour, on the true principles which regulate the distinction of ranks;
and the lecture being delivered with his usual vivacity, had at least
the beneficial effect of engaging my attention, and putting to flight
the gloomy thoughts by which I had been overwhelmed. I could not but
feel also a kind of triumph at the manner in which I had again seemed to
rule over my own destiny, as by accidentally choosing the Polish name of
Kwicziczwo in conversation with the old lady, on the evening of my first
presentation at court, I had created for myself that patent of nobility
which induced the Prince to bestow on me the Baroness in marriage.

       *       *       *       *       *

As soon as I ascertained that the Princess was returned to the palace, I
hastened to Aurelia, and immediately obtained an interview. The desire
to excuse herself for the needless and capricious agitation, to which
she had given way on my last visit, gave a new tone to her voice and
manner, and new expression to her eyes, so that her timidity being less,
I could once more say to myself, "The prize will yet be thine!" Tears
glistened in her beautiful eyes, and her tone was that of earnest and
plaintive supplication.

Still haunted by the idea of my spectral _double_, I wished to learn
from her explicitly what had been the real cause of her terror.
"Aurelia," said I, "I conjure you by all the saints, tell me what
horrible phantom was it that then appeared to you?" At this question she
gazed at me with obvious astonishment--her looks became always more and
more fixed, as if in deep thought--then suddenly started up as if to go,
but stood irresolute. At last, with both hands pressed on her eyes, she
sobbed out--"No--no--no;--It is not--it cannot be he!"--

Unconsciously she allowed me to support her to a chair, into which she
sank down exhausted. "For God's sake, Aurelia, who is it that you mean?"
cried I, though I had already dark anticipations of what was passing
through her mind. "Alas!" said she, "my beloved friend, were I to
confess to you the whole truth, would you not look on me as an insane
visionary? A horrible phantom accompanies me through life, and mars, by
its irresistible influence, every enjoyment, even at the times when I
should otherwise be most happy. At our very first meeting, this
frightful dream hovered, as if on dark wings, over me, spreading an
ice-cold atmosphere of death around us, where there should have
prevailed only a buoyant spirit of cheerfulness and hope.

"In like manner, when you came into my room at the Princess's
country-house, the same evil power acquired its full dominion over me.
But this persecution is not without its especial cause. Precisely in the
same manner in which you entered my apartments, though at a later hour
of the night, an accursed monk of the Capuchin order once surprised me.
Spare me the repetition of what then occurred. Suffice it, that he
became the murderer of my brother; and _now_, your features--your tone
of voice--your figure--But no more--no more of this--let me be silent on
that subject for ever, and forgive, if possible, my weakness in this
betrayal!"

Aurelia reclined on the sofa on which I had placed her, and seemed
unconscious of that freedom with which I now contemplated the exquisite
contour of her shape, and the angelic beauty of her features. Once
more--all better inspirations--all doubts and fears vanished from my
mind--with a fiendlike scorn and contempt, I said in a low voice--"Thou
unhappy _fated_ girl! Thou bought and sold of Satan! Thou, forsooth,
believest that thou hast escaped from thine old enemy--from the Capuchin
monk, who long ago would have led thee on to ruin and despair! But
_now_, thou art his bride; and in unconscious mockery of the religion
which thou cherishest, art doomed to kneel with him at the altar of the
Most High!"

The powers of darkness had, for a time, acquired over me supreme
dominion. I exulted over Aurelia as my devoted prey, and began to think,
like a professed libertine, that her destruction would form the noblest
epoch in my life. Our present interview, however, was not suffered to be
of long duration, for Aurelia was summoned to attend the Princess, and I
was left alone. Her expressions in apologizing for her conduct at the
Princess's _chateau_, had convinced me that there existed some mystery
betwixt us, of the nature of which I was yet unaware, and which I had
not the means of unravelling, for I perceived that there was no chance
of inducing Aurelia to speak more explicitly on the subject.

Accident soon after revealed to me that which she had been so determined
to conceal. One day I happened to be in the apartment of that officer of
the court, whose business it was to take charge of the receipt and
delivery of letters. He was suddenly called out, when Aurelia's
waiting-maid came with a large packet, and placed it among others which
were already on the table. A fleeting glance confirmed me that the
hand-writing was that of the Baroness, and I perceived that the
superscription was to the Abbess of the Cistertian Nunnery at
Kreuzberg. With the rapidity of lightning the thought vibrated through
me, that this packet would afford the key to many yet unexplored
mysteries, and before the officer returned, I had retired, and taken
with me Aurelia's letter--of which now follows a transcript--




CHAPTER VIII.



     "BARONESS AURELIA VON F----, to the Abbess
     of the Cistertian Convent at Kreuzberg:--

     "My dear kind Mother--How shall I find adequate words to announce
     to you that your daughter is fortunate and happy--that at length
     the horrid spectre is banished, whose terrific influence, blighting
     every flower, and clouding every sun-gleam, had, for a long
     interval, rendered her existence utterly wretched!

     "But now self-reproach falls heavy on my heart. When after my
     unhappy brother's death, and when my father perished from grief and
     disappointment, you received and supported me during my otherwise
     hopeless affliction, I ought then, not only to have confessed my
     sins, but to have acquainted you fully and explicitly with the
     strange and mysterious impressions, by which my tranquillity had
     been broken.

     "I was unwilling, however, to disturb you by a detail, which would
     have seemed rather like the fantastic illusions of a disordered
     imagination, than reality, and of which the malignant influence
     then admitted of no cure nor antidote. Circumstances are now
     changed, and I can freely write to you of that secret, which has so
     long been deeply concealed in my own breast. It seems to me,
     indeed, as if that mysterious power by whom I have been haunted,
     had mocked, like a demon, at my every prospect of happiness! I have
     been tost about hither and thither, as if on the waves of a stormy
     sea, and left ever and anon to perish without hope of rescue! Yet
     Heaven has almost miraculously assisted me, even at the moment when
     I was on the point of being irrecoverably lost.

     "In order to render my disclosures intelligible, I must look back
     to the period of my earliest recollections, for even at that time,
     the foundation was laid in my heart of those apprehensions which
     have since grown with my growth, and strengthened with my strength.

     "It happened when I was only about four years old, that one day,
     when the spring season was at its brightest and loveliest, I was
     busily engaged with Hermogen at play in the castle gardens.
     Hermogen had run about supplying me with a thousand varieties of
     flowers, which he also assisted me to weave into garlands, with
     which I adorned myself, till being completely decked out like a
     fairy queen, and covered with flowers, I said, 'Now, let me go!--I
     must shew myself to my mother!'

     "Hermogen, as you know, was older than I was, and exercised a kind
     of authority over his sister. At these words of mine, he started
     up, 'Stay here, Aurelia,' said he, in a commanding voice--'Thy
     mother is in her blue closet, and speaks with the devil!' I could
     not tell what my brother meant by this, but, quite overcome with
     terror, I began to weep bitterly--'Foolish Aurelia,' said Hermogen,
     'wherefore weepest thou?--Your mother speaks every day with the
     devil. But let us keep out of his way, and he will do us no harm!'
     He spoke, and looked angrily, so that I was obliged to be silent.

     "My mother was even then in very feeble health--she was attacked
     often by frightful convulsions, which left her in a state of
     deathlike weakness. This happened once in presence of Hermogen,
     and myself. We were ordered out of the room, and I wept bitterly;
     but Hermogen only said, 'It is the devil that has done this to
     her!'

     "Thus the belief was firmly impressed on my mind, that my mother
     every day held conversations with some frightful spectre, whom,
     even to look upon, would, to any one else, be death. (As to
     religious instructions, they were, of course, yet wholly beyond my
     comprehension.) One day, after rambling through the castle, I was
     horrified to find myself alone in the blue cabinet which had been
     alluded to by Hermogen.

     "I should instantly have taken refuge in flight, but my mother came
     in with a deadly paleness on her countenance, and without observing
     me, (for I stood in a corner,) in a deep melancholy tone, she
     pronounced the name, 'Francesco--Francesco!' There was then a
     strange rustling and rattling behind the oak pannels of the wall.
     The boards began to move, and drew themselves asunder. I then saw a
     full-length portrait, so admirably painted, that it had all the
     animation of life, representing a man in a foreign dress, with a
     dark violet-coloured mantle.

     "The figure and expressive countenance of this unknown, made on me
     an indescribable impression, which I never afterwards forgot. My
     admiration was such that I could no longer be silent, but uttered
     an exclamation of joy, which, for the first time, made my mother
     aware of my presence. Her temper, which was generally mild and
     equable, was now more ruffled than on any former occasion.--'What
     would'st thou here, Aurelia?' said she, in an angry tone; 'who
     brought thee hither?'--'They left me all alone,' cried I, bursting
     into tears. 'I know not how I came hither, and had no wish to be
     here!'

     "Meanwhile the pannels were again put in motion, and the portrait
     disappeared.--'Alas!' said I, 'the beautiful picture--Mother,
     dearest mother, why is it gone?'--The Baroness lifted me up in her
     arms, and caressed me.--'Thou art my dear good child,' said she;
     'but no one must see that picture, nor speak of its having been
     there. It is now gone, Aurelia, and will never come again!'

     "Accordingly, as long as I remembered this warning, I intrusted to
     no one what I had observed in the mysterious blue cabinet. Only to
     Hermogen, I once said--'Dearest brother, it is not with the devil,
     as you supposed, that our mother speaks, but with a young handsome
     man. However, he is only a picture, and starts out of the wall when
     she calls for him.'--'The devil,' answered Hermogen, with a fixed
     serious look, 'may look as he will,--so says our father confessor.
     But as to the Baroness, he dare no longer trouble her!'--Horror
     seized on me at these words, and I begged of Hermogen, that he
     never would speak of the devil again.

     "Soon after this we went to the _residenz_, and the picture
     _almost_ vanished from my remembrance; nor did I think of it till
     after my mother's death, when we came back to the country. The wing
     of the castle in which was that blue cabinet, remained uninhabited.
     Here had been my late mother's favourite apartments; and my father
     could not enter them without suffering from the most painful
     recollections.

     "At last, after an interval of several years, it became necessary
     to order some repairs in that wing; and being now in my fourteenth
     year, restless and wild, I happened to come into the blue cabinet,
     just at the time when the workmen were about to tear up the floor.
     When one of them was in the act of lifting a heavy table, which
     stood in the middle of the room, there was a strange noise heard
     behind the wall, the pannels burst asunder, and the portrait of the
     unknown again became visible.

     "On examination, they discovered a spring in the floor, which being
     pressed down, brought into motion certain machinery behind the
     wainscot, which was accordingly drawn aside, as already described,
     so as to exhibit the picture. Once more that extraordinary event of
     my childhood was brought vividly to my remembrance; and, at the
     recollection of my beloved mother, tears started into my eyes. Yet
     I could not turn away my looks from the expressive and interesting
     features of the unknown, which were so admirably painted, that they
     seemed more like life and reality, than any work of art. Above all,
     his eyes were so animated, that their glance seemed to penetrate
     into my very soul.

     "Probably the workmen had sent word to my father, of the discovery
     which they had made; for while I yet stood gazing on the unknown,
     he hastily entered the room. He had scarcely cast a fleeting
     glance on the picture, when he appeared almost petrified by some
     mysterious emotion, and murmured to himself, in a deep tone, the
     name '_Francesco!_'--

     "Then suddenly, as if awoke from a painful reverie, he turned round
     to the workmen, and, with a stern voice, commanded them, that they
     should directly tear the painting from the wall, roll it up, and
     give it in charge to Reinhold. I was greatly distressed by this
     order. It seemed to me as if I should never more behold that form,
     so heroic, noble, and interesting; who, in his foreign garb,
     appeared to me almost like some prince of the spiritual world! Yet
     an unconquerable timidity prevented me from requesting of my
     father, that he would not allow the portrait to be destroyed.

     "In a few days, however, these impressions altogether vanished; nor
     did they recur till after a long interval. I was now carried away
     by the volatility and light-heartedness of youth. A thousand
     sports, of my own devising, every day engaged my attention; and my
     father often said, that Hermogen, at this time, had the quiet,
     timid manners of a well-behaved girl; while I, on the contrary,
     behaved like a wild romping boy!

     "These characteristics, however, were soon to be changed. Hermogen
     was already past the years of adolescence, and began to devote his
     whole attention to his own professional pursuits as a young
     soldier. He thought only of hardening his frame to endure every
     possible fatigue--of parades and reviews--of military
     tactics--above all, of actual service in time of danger; and in
     these views, his father (having determined on his son's
     destination) wholly concurred.

     "For my part, my whole existence now underwent a complete
     revolution, which I was then unable to interpret, and which I yet
     cannot adequately describe. The solitude in which I lived probably
     contributed to heighten every fantastic impression. If any new
     feeling arose within me, being wholly undiverted by any external
     influence, or by the usual dissipations of society to which others
     can have recourse, it naturally grew into excess. I became
     thoughtful, melancholy, nervous, and discontented. By night, I was
     visited by strange and unaccountable dreams; and during the day, I
     was, by fits, extravagantly merry, or, on the slightest
     provocation, burst into a passion of tears.

     "My father observed these changes, which he ascribed to
     irritability of nerves, and called in a physician, who prescribed
     for me all sorts of remedies, without the slightest good effect. At
     this time--I know not myself how it could have happened--but one
     night the half-forgotten image of the unknown appeared before me,
     in colours so vivid and lively, that he was no longer a dead
     phantom on canvass, but a corporeal and living being, who gazed on
     me with an aspect of kindness and compassion.

     "'Alas!' cried I, 'must I then die? What is it by which I am thus
     so unspeakably tormented?'--'Thou lovest me, Aurelia,' said the
     vision, 'and this is the cause of thy present illness and
     distraction. But canst thou dissolve the vows of one already
     devoted to heaven?' To my astonishment, I now perceived that the
     unknown wore the robes of a monk.

     "Summoning my whole strength, I endeavoured to break the spells
     with which the detestable dream had fettered my senses; and, for
     the present moment, I succeeded in this; but I could not prevent
     the same phantom from recurring to my imagination, and persecuting
     me with tenfold power. I perceived only too well, that for me the
     mysteries of a first love were revealed,--that, with a passionate
     fervour, of which only the youthful heart is capable, I was
     attached to the nameless and visionary unknown! My indisposition
     seemed, however, to have attained its crisis, and I became
     perceptibly better. My nervous irritability decreased, and I was
     able again to mix in society; only the constant presence of that
     image, my fantastic love of a being who existed only in my own
     brain, rendered me so _distraite_, that I frequently gave absurd
     answers when questioned; and being wholly wrapt up in my own
     reveries, must have appeared to others either an affected prude, or
     an unidea'd simpleton.

     "About this time, I had found, among other romances, in my
     brother's room, one containing the history of a monk, who, being
     overcome by temptations of the devil, renounced his vows, and fell
     in love with a young lady, who in consequence perished miserably.
     This I read with avidity, and though the lessons that it contained
     might have been expected to open my eyes to the dangers which I was
     drawing on myself, yet it had an effect directly the reverse, by
     fixing my attention more and more on those visions which I ought to
     have banished for ever from my mind. Frequently I thought of
     Hermogen's words--'Thy mother speaks with the devil;' and began to
     think, that the unknown was, in truth, an agent of the Arch-fiend,
     employed to entice me to destruction. Yet I could not cease to love
     him; and when Reinhold came back, on one occasion, from a journey,
     and talked much of a certain Brother Medardus, whom he had heard
     preach in the town of Koenigswald, there arose within me an obscure
     dim apprehension, that the original of the beloved and yet dreaded
     vision might be that very Medardus; and this belief Reinhold's
     description of the preacher's features and person seemed amply to
     sanction. Thereafter, the wild dreams and internal conflicts by
     which I was persecuted, were increased tenfold. It happened that a
     monk (as was often the case) came to visit at my father's house;
     and this person chose, in a very diffuse lecture, to describe the
     manifold temptations of the devil, and the wretched delusions to
     which especially youthful minds were subjected, if they did not
     sufficiently resist his influence. My father seemed to approve of
     this discourse, and I believed it was aimed particularly at
     me.--'Only unbounded trust and confidence,' said the clergyman,
     'not only in religion, but in her servants, and submissive
     obedience to their injunctions and advice, can afford hopes of
     rescue.'

     "Not long after this, I accompanied my father to the town of
     Koenigswald, whither he went to attend a law process which Reinhold
     had been unable to finish alone. We lived at the garden-house of
     the Graf van M----, which is close by the celebrated chapel of the
     Capuchin Convent; and remembering the lecture which I had heard
     just before leaving home, I resolved not to lose that opportunity
     of fulfilling the sacred duty of confession."

[Aurelia's letter is very long, and contains a recapitulation, in a
diffuse rambling style, of events that are already known to the reader.
In the first place, there is her interview with Medardus in the church,
which has been described already in the first volume of these Memoirs.
After this, it appears that Aurelia was seized by a long and dangerous
illness, by which her passion for Medardus was, for a time, completely
subdued and alienated. To this change his vehement exhortation to her
in the confessional had also contributed; but, for the future, she
looked on the whole transaction as a dream, with which she had been
visited, in order that her eyes should be opened to the errors into
which she had, by a youthful imagination, been led.

Secondly, there is a full explanation of her conduct at the time when
Medardus appeared at the castle of her father the Baron von F----.
Though she at once recognized the former object of her affections, yet,
with an unshaken perseverance, she persisted in her determination, on no
occasion whatever to betray this recognition. Many times, however, she
now underwent severe conflicts on account of a transient recurrence of
her not yet wholly conquered passion; but against these her mind was
fortified by the constant presence and advice of Hermogen.

Thirdly, and lastly, comes a detail of recent circumstances which are
already sufficiently intelligible. No sooner had Medardus, in
consequence of Aurelia's representations, been thrown into prison, and,
by the opinion of every one, already prejudged to the scaffold, than
she became dreadfully agitated; and, although conscious that her conduct
was but the fulfilment of imperious duty, and feeling the utmost
abhorrence for him as a criminal, yet with these feelings was blended a
share of compassion, so that she almost regretted what she had done. At
this period, the discovery of the insane monk, in whom Cyrillus
recognized the true Medardus--the proofs received from Posen, that the
individual who had, in consequence of her accusations, been imprisoned,
was a Polish nobleman, and never had been a monk--effected an entire
revolution in her mind. Regret for the sufferings which she had so
unwarrantably inflicted, led naturally to the revival of her early
passion, which had now found a legitimate and innocent object.

She dwells with satisfaction on many attributes of character and
demeanour, in which her beloved Leonard differs from, and contrasts
with, the detestable monk, by whom her brother had been put to death.
Only the adventure at the Princess's country-house had, for a time,
broken in upon this confidence, and given rise to many harassing doubts
and fears, with an oppressive feeling of mystery, by which her mind is
still clouded, and against which she earnestly entreats the prayers and
maternal blessing of the Abbess for herself and her betrothed husband.]




CHAPTER IX.


Repeatedly, and with the greatest attention, I read over this letter of
Aurelia, especially the latter pages, in which there was obviously
displayed so much of true piety and confiding simplicity of heart, that,
at our next meeting, I was unable to continue my addresses in the tone
and manner in which I had before indulged. Aurelia remarked this change
in my conduct; and, struck with remorse, I penitentially confessed to
her my robbery of her letter addressed to the Lady Abbess--(which,
however, I had duly sealed and forwarded)--excusing myself on the
principle, that some mysterious and supernatural impulse had forced me
to this deed, against which it was impossible to contend. I insisted
also, that a similar influence, emanating from some high and
inexplicable source, had already shadowed forth to me in visions some of
the principal incidents in her life, which the perusal of the letter,
therefore, had only confirmed and realized.--"As a proof," said I, "of
the intellectual sympathy existing betwixt us, I could long ere now have
informed you of a wonderful dream by which I was myself visited, in
which you confessed to me your love; but methought I was transformed
into a miserable monk, whose heart, instead of being rejoiced by such
good fortune, was torn by remorse and self-reproach. I loved you,
indeed, with the utmost fervour; but my love was mortal sin; for I had
regularly taken the vows of a Capuchin; and you, Aurelia, were
metamorphosed into the blessed St Rosalia."

At these words Aurelia started up in affright. "For God's sake,
Leonard," said she, "say no more! Our lives are mutually obscured by
some frightful and impenetrable mystery; and the less we endeavour to
break through the veil by which it is now wrapt in darkness, the better.
Who knows what insupportable horrors may be therein concealed? Let us
think no more of such frightful inquiries, but rely firmly on each
other. That you have read my letter to the Abbess no doubt surprises
and vexes me. But what is done cannot be retrieved. As to its contents,
I would willingly have imparted them to you _viva voce_, if I had known
that it was to serve any good purpose, for no secrets dare exist betwixt
us. But to say the truth, Leonard, it appears to me that you yourself
struggle against the evil influence of much that is wrapt up in your own
bosom, and which, on account of false shame, you do not allow to pass
your lips. If possible, be for the future sincere! How much would your
heart be lightened by a free confession, and as to our attachment, its
bonds would thereby be strengthened tenfold!"

At these words of Aurelia, I felt in all its bitterness the torment of
conscious deception and hypocrisy. I reflected with the keenest
self-reproach, how, only a few moments before, I had voluntarily
practised imposition against this pious simple-hearted girl; and an
almost unconquerable impulse arose within me to confess to her
_all_--even the worst that I could utter against myself, and yet
methought I should not even then lose her affection!

"Aurelia! my guardian angel, who rescued me from----" I had thus even
begun my confession, when the Princess abruptly entered the room, and
produced an entire change, not only in my behaviour, but in my feelings.
Her manner, as usual, was haughty and ceremonious. I met her with all
the outward forms of respect, but internally with emotions of scorn and
defiance. As the acknowledged bridegroom of Aurelia, she was now obliged
to bear with me, and I boldly kept my place, though I perceived that her
aversion to me was by no means abated. In truth, it was only when alone
with Aurelia that I was now free from all wicked thoughts and impulses.
At such moments, the beatitude of Heaven seemed to descend on me, and I
began once more to wish anxiously for our marriage, in despite of every
obstacle.

About this time it came to pass that a remarkable dream one night
greatly disturbed my rest, by the recollection of which I continued for
several days to be haunted. Methought the figure of my mother stood
vividly before me, and when I wished to salute and welcome her, I
perceived it was but an aerial phantom which assumed her features, and
mocked my filial embrace. "To what purpose this absurd deception?" cried
I, angrily--"Thou delusive shadow, what would'st thou here?"

Then methought my mother wept bitterly. The tears that she shed were
changed into bright dazzling stars which floated through the air, and
began to form a circle round my head; but ever and anon, a black
frightful hand, like that of a demon, with long claws, broke the circle
as soon as it was nearly formed. "Thou, whom I brought pure and sinless
into the world," said my mother, "and whose infancy and youth I watched
over with such care, hast thou lost all energy and self-command, that
thou submittest, like a grovelling slave, to every enticement of Satan?
Now, indeed, I can look into thine inmost heart, since the load of
earthly existence, under which I have long struggled, is taken from my
shoulders. Rouse thyself, Franciscus! Resist the fiend that besets thee,
and he will flee! I shall once more adorn thee, as in early days, with
ribbons and flowers, for St Bernard's day is come, and thou shalt again
be a pious and happy child!"

Now it seemed to me as if, in obedience to my mother's admonition, I
must once more begin singing one of the lovely anthems which I had
learned in my youth, but frightful and indescribable noises overpowered
my voice. My attempts at music were like the howling of a wild beast;
and betwixt me and my phantom visitant there fell, rustling and
undulating, the folds of a massy black veil, supported by the spectral
arms of demons, with long hideous talons. Thus ended my dream.

Two days afterwards, I happened to meet in the park the chief judge of
the criminal court, who came up to me in a very friendly manner, and
entered into conversation.

"Do you know," said he, "that the final issue of Medardus's trial has
again become very doubtful? Judgment of death had nearly been pronounced
against him, indeed was all but carried into effect, when he again
shewed symptoms of madness. The court received intelligence of the death
of his mother. I made this known to him. Then he laughed aloud like a
maniac, and in a tone which would have inspired the stoutest heart with
horror--'The Duchess of Neuenburg!' said he, (naming the wife of the
late Duke, brother of our Sovereign,)--'She is long since dead. If this
is all the intelligence you had to bring, the trouble might have been
spared!'

"In consequence of this paroxysm, the execution of the sentence is
delayed, and a new medical inquiry set on foot. However, it is
generally believed that his madness is only pretended, and that his
condemnation is therefore inevitable."

I afterwards obtained information of the day and hour of my mother's
death, and found that these corresponded exactly with the time at which
she had appeared to me in that remarkable vision.

       *       *       *       *       *

The day which the Prince had appointed for our marriage was at last
arrived; and the ceremony was to take place in the morning, at the altar
of St Rosalia, in the church of a neighbouring convent, which (I know
not for what reason) Aurelia preferred to the Prince's chapel. I passed
the preceding night in watching and prayer.--Alas! I did not reflect
that prayer under such circumstances, and cherishing such intentions in
my heart, was only adding by blasphemy to my previous guilt.

When I went to Aurelia, she came, dressed in white, and wearing roses as
her only ornament, to meet me. Never had she looked more beautiful; but
in the fashion of her dress, and in the flower wreaths that she had
chosen, there was something that inspired me with strange and mysterious
recollections, which I knew not how to define. At the same moment I
remembered that the painting over the altar, at which the marriage
ceremony was to take place, represented the martyrdom of St Rosalia, and
that the saint was there dressed precisely as Aurelia now appeared,
whereupon my whole frame was shaken with horrid and uncontrollable
apprehensions, which it was hardly in my power to conceal.

We had no time for conversation, however. Scarcely had I saluted
Aurelia, when a servant of the Prince announced that we were waited for
by the wedding-party. She quickly drew on her gloves, and gave me her
arm. Then one of her attendants remarked that some ringlets of her hair
had fallen loose, and begged for a moment's delay. Aurelia seemed vexed
at the interruption, but waited accordingly.

At that moment a hollow rumbling noise, and a tumult of voices on the
street, attracted our attention. At Aurelia's request I hastened to the
window. There, just before the palace, was a _leiter-wagen_, which, on
account of some obstacle, had stopped in the street. The car was
surrounded by the executioners of justice; and within it, I perceived
the horrible monk, who sat looking backwards, while before him was a
capuchin, earnestly engaged in prayer. His countenance was deadly pale,
and again disfigured by a grizzly beard, but the features of my
detestable _double_ were to me but too easily recognizable.

When the carriage, that had been for a short space interrupted by the
crowd, began to roll on, he seemed awoke from his reverie, and turning
up his staring spectral eyes towards me, instantly became animated. He
laughed and howled aloud--"_Brued-er-lein_--_Brued-er-lein!_" cried
he.--"Bride-groom!--Bride-groom!--Come quickly--come quickly.--Up--up to
the roof of the house. There the owl holds his wedding-feast; the
weather-cock sings aloud! There shall we contend together, and whoever
casts the other down, is king, and may drink blood!"

The howling voice in which he uttered these words, the glare of his
eyes, and the horrible writhings of his visage, that was like that of an
animated corse, were more than, weakened as I was by previous
agitation, I was able to withstand. From that moment I lost all
self-possession; I became also utterly insane, and unconscious what I
did! At first I tried to speak calmly. "Horrible wretch!" said I; "what
mean'st thou? What would'st thou from me?"

Then I grinned, jabbered, and howled back to the madman; and Aurelia, in
an agony of terror, broke from her attendants, and ran up to me. With
all her strength, she seized my arms, and endeavoured to draw me from
the window. "For God's sake," cried she, "leave that horrible spectacle;
they are dragging Medardus, the murderer of my brother, to the scaffold.
Leonard!--Leonard!"

Then all the demons of hell seemed awoke within me, and manifested, in
its utmost extent, that power which they are allowed to exercise over an
obdurate and unrepentant sinner. With reckless cruelty I repulsed
Aurelia, who trembled, as if shook by convulsions, in every
limb.--"Ha--ha--ha!" I almost shrieked aloud--"foolish, insane girl! I
myself, thy lover, thy chosen bridegroom, am the murderer of thy
brother! Would'st thou by thy complaints bring down destruction from
heaven on thy sworn husband?--Ho--ho--ho! I am king--I am king--and will
drink blood!"

I drew out the stiletto--I struck at Aurelia,--blood streamed over my
arm and hand, and she fell lifeless at my feet. I rushed down
stairs,--forced my way through the crowd to the carriage--seized the
monk by the collar, and with supernatural strength tore him from the
car. Then I was arrested by the executioner; but with the stiletto in my
hand, I defended myself so furiously, that I broke loose, and rushed
into the thick of the mob, where, in a few moments, I found myself
wounded by a stab in the side; but the people were struck with such
terror, that I made my way through them as far as to the neighbouring
wall of the park, which, by a frightful effort, I leapt over.

"Murder--murder!--Stop--stop the murderer!" I had fallen down, almost
fainting, on the other side of the wall, but these outcries instantly
gave me new strength. Some were knocking with great violence, in vain
endeavours to break open one of the park gates, which, not being the
regular entrance, was always kept closed. Others were striving to
clamber over the wall, which I had cleared by an incredible leap. I
rose, and exerting my utmost speed, ran forward. I came, ere long, to a
broad _fosse_, by which the park was separated from the adjoining
forest. By another tremendous effort, I jumped over, and continued to
run on through the wood, until at last I sank down, utterly exhausted,
under a tree.

I know not how the time had passed, but it was already evening, and dark
shadows reigned through the forest, when I came again to my
recollection. My progress in running so far had passed over like an
obscure dream. I recollect only the wind roaring amid the dense canopy
of the trees, and that many times I mistook some old moss-grown pollard
stem for an officer of justice, armed and ready to seize upon me!

When I awoke from the swoon and utter stupefaction into which I had
fallen, my first impulse was merely to set out again, like a hunted wild
beast, and fly, if possible, from my pursuers to the very end of the
earth! As soon, however, as I was only past the frontiers of the
Prince's dominions, I would certainly be safe from all immediate
persecution.

I rose accordingly, but scarcely had I advanced a few steps, when there
was a violent rustling in the thicket; and from thence, in a state of
the most vehement rage and excitement, sprung the monk, who, no doubt in
consequence of the disturbance that I had raised, had contrived to make
his escape from the guards and executioners.

In a paroxysm of madness he flew towards me, leaping through the bushes
like a tiger, and finally sprung upon my shoulders, clasping his arms
about my throat, so that I was almost suffocated. Under any other
circumstances, I would have instantly freed myself from such an attack,
but I was enfeebled to the last degree by the exertions I had undergone,
and all that I could attempt was to render this feebleness subservient
to my rescue. I fell down under his weight, and endeavoured to take
advantage of that event. I rolled myself on the ground, and grappled
with him; but in vain! I could not disengage myself, and my
infernal double laughed scornfully. His abominable accents,
"He--he--he!--He--he--he!" sounded amid the desolate loneliness of the
woods.

During this contest, the moon broke, only for a moment, through the
clouds, for the night was gloomy and tempestuous. Then, as her silvery
gleam slanted through the dark shade of the pine trees, I beheld, in all
its horror, the deadly pale visage of my _second self_, with the same
expression which had glared out upon me from the cart in which he had
been dragged to execution. "He--he--he--Broth-er, broth-er!--Ever, ever
I am with thee!--Leave thee, leave thee never!--Cannot run as thou
canst! Must carry--carry me! Come straight from the gallows--They would
have nailed me to the wheel--He--he--he!--He--he--he!"

Thus the infernal spectre howled and laughed aloud as we lay on the
ground; but ere the fleeting moonbeam had passed away, I was roused once
more to furious rage. I sprang up like a bear in the embraces of a
boa-constrictor, and ran with my utmost force against trees and
fragments of rock, so that if I could not kill him, I might at least
wound him in such manner that he would be under the necessity of letting
me go. But in vain. He only laughed the more loudly and scornfully; and
my personal sufferings were increased tenfold by my endeavours to end
them.

I then strove with my whole remaining strength to burst asunder his
hands, which were firmly knotted round my throat, but the supernatural
energies of the monster threatened me with strangulation. At last, after
a furious conflict, he suddenly fell, as if lifeless, on the ground: and
though scarcely able to breathe, I had run onwards for some yards, when
again he sat upon my shoulders, laughing as before, and stammering out
the same horrible words. Of new succeeded the same efforts of despairing
rage! Of new I was freed! Then again locked in the embraces of this
demoniacal spectre!

After this I lost all consciousness.--I am utterly unable to say
distinctly how long I was persecuted by my relentless _double_. It seems
to me as if my struggles must have continued at least during a whole
month; and that during this long period I neither ate nor drank. I
remember only _one_ lucid interval. All the rest is utter darkness.

I had just succeeded in throwing off my double, when a clear gleam of
sun-light brightened the woods, and with it a pleasant sound of bells
rose on mine ear. I distinguished unequivocally the chimes of a convent,
which rung for early mass. For a moment I rejoiced; but then the thought
came like annihilation upon me--"Thou hast murdered Aurelia!" and once
more losing all self-possession and recollection, I fell in despair upon
the earth.




CHAPTER X.


Methought the air in which I breathed had a mildness and fragrance such
as now I had never known; but, as yet, I was labouring under the
influence of a deep and morbid slumber. I felt a strange irritation, a
shooting prickly pain in every vein and fibre, till it seemed as if my
frame was split and divided an hundred fold, and every division thence
arising assumed a peculiar and individual principle of life, while the
head in vain strove to command the limbs, which, like unfaithful
vassals, would not submit themselves to its dominion.

Then, methought, each of these separated parts became a glittering fiery
point, which began to turn itself round in a circle, till hundreds of
them, whirling rapidly together, formed at last the appearance of a
fixed ball of fire, which darted forth flames and coruscations. "These
are my limbs which are thus moving," said I to myself; "now I am for
certain about to awake."

At that moment, when the fiery ball was turning round, I felt sudden and
violent pain, and distinctly heard the sound of a clear chime of bells.
"Away, away--Onward, onward!" cried I, believing myself still in the
wood, and making a vehement effort to rise up, but I fell back powerless
on my couch. Now, for the first time, I was restored to perfect
consciousness, and saw, with great surprise, that I was no longer in the
forest. In the dress of a Capuchin monk, I lay upon a well-stuffed
mattress. The room was vaulted and lofty; a pair of rush-bottomed
chairs, and a small table, stood beside my bed.

I concluded that my state of unconsciousness must have continued for a
long time, and that, while in that unhappy situation, I must have been
brought to some convent or other, where the monks were, by their rule,
obliged to receive the sick. Probably my clothes had been torn, and they
had been obliged, for the meanwhile, to supply me with a cowl. However
this might be, there was no doubt that I had escaped from all immediate
danger. I was also free from pain, though very weak, therefore continued
quite tranquil, having no doubt that my protectors would, in due time,
look after their charge.

Accordingly, it was not long before I heard steps that seemed, from
their sound, to approach through a long stone-floored gallery. My door
opened, and I saw two men, of whom one had a lay dress, the other wore
the habit of the brethren of charity. They came up to me in silence; the
man in the lay dress fixed his eyes on me, and seemed much astonished.
"I am again come to myself, sir," said I, in a weak voice. "Heaven be
praised, who has restored to me my reason. But will you be so good as to
inform me where I am, and how I have been brought hither?"

Without answering me, the physician (as I supposed him to be) turned to
the clergyman, and said, in Italian, "This is indeed very extraordinary.
His looks are, since our last visit, completely changed. His speech is
quite clear, only weak. Some particular crisis must have taken place in
his malady."

"For my part," said the monk, "I have no doubt that he is completely
cured."

"Of that," said the physician, "we cannot judge, until we have seen how
he may conduct himself for the next few days. But do you not understand
as much German as to speak with him?"

The monk answered in the negative.

"I understand and speak Italian," interrupted I. "Tell me, then, I
beseech you, where I am, and how I found my way hither?"

"Ha!" cried the physician, "our difficulties are then at an end. You
find yourself, reverend sir, in a place where every possible precaution
has been, and will be taken, for your perfect recovery. Three months ago
you were brought hither in a very critical and dangerous situation; but,
under our care and attention, you seem to have made great progress
towards convalescence; and if we shall have the good fortune to complete
your cure, you may then freely pursue your journey, for, as I have
understood, you wish to go to Rome."

"Did I come to you, then," said I, "in this Capuchin dress which I now
wear?"

"Truly you did so," said the physician; "but give over, I pray you, this
asking of questions, and do not disquiet yourself--everything shall, in
due time, be explained to your satisfaction. Our business at present is
to attend to your bodily health."

He then felt my pulse, and the monk, who had for a moment disappeared,
returned with a cup full of some liquid, which the physician desired me
to drink, and then to tell him what I thought it was. I obeyed, and told
him that what I had drunk seemed to me a strong and nourishing
meat-broth. "Good--very good," said the monk, with a smile of
satisfaction. They then left me alone, with a promise of returning in a
short time.

Through the next three days, I was attended with the utmost skill and
kindness by the brethren and the physician. I continued rapidly to
improve, and at the end of that time was able to rise up, and, leaning
on the monk's arm, to walk through the room. He led me to the window and
opened the lattice. A delightfully warm and fragrant (but not sultry)
air, such as till then I had never breathed, came in at the window.
Without, I beheld an extensive garden, wherein all sorts of fruit-trees
grew, and flourished in the highest luxuriance. There were also
delightful arbours, bowers, and temples; while, even around the window
from which I looked, the grapes hung in rich massy clusters. Above all,
however, it was, with the clear cloudless blue of the sky that I was
altogether enchanted. I could not find words to express my admiration.

"Where am I then?" cried I. "Have the blessed saints granted to a
wretched sinner to dwell in their Elysium?"

The monk smiled contentedly at my raptures. "You are in Italy, brother,"
said he.

"In Italy!" repeated I, with the utmost astonishment. I then urged the
clergyman to explain to me more particularly how I could have found my
way to such a distance. He referred me to the physician, who just then
entered, and who at last informed me, that a strange man of most
eccentric manners had brought me hither about three months ago, and
begged that I might be taken into their house; that, finally, I was in a
regular hospital, which was taken charge of by the brethren of charity.

As I gradually gained more strength, I found that the monk and physician
willingly entered into conversation with me on various subjects of
literature and the arts. The latter, as if in order to obtain
information for himself, even requested me to write down many things
which he afterwards read over in my presence; but I was puzzled by
observing that, instead of praising what I had written on its own
account, he only said, "Indeed?--This looks well!--I have not been
deceived--Excellent--excellent!"

I was now allowed at certain hours to walk in the garden, where,
however, I was greatly discomposed by the sight of strange spectral
figures, who, as if quite unable to take care of themselves, were led
about by the monks. Once, in particular, I was struck by the appearance
of a tall haggard man, in a dingy yellow mantle, who was led by two of
the brethren, one on each side, and in this manner met me as I was
returning to the house. At every step, he made the most absurd
gesticulations, as if he were about to commence a _pas seul_, at the
same time whistling shrilly an accompaniment.

Astonished at this, I stood gazing on the man, but the monk by whom I
was attended drew me suddenly away. "Come, come, dear brother Medardus!"
said he, "that is no business of yours!"

"For God's sake," said I, "tell me how is it that you know anything of
my name?"

The vehemence with which I put this question seemed to discompose my
attendant. "For what reason," said he, "should we not know your name?
The man by whom you were brought hither, named you without hesitation,
and you were accordingly entered in the list of the house--Medardus,
brother of the Capuchin Convent at Koenigswald."

Once more I felt the ice-cold shuddering of terror vibrate in every
limb. But whoever was the unknown by whom I had been brought to the
hospital, whether he were or were not initiated in the horrible
mysteries of my life, he certainly had not cherished any evil intentions
towards me, for I had been treated with the greatest care and
tenderness, and was, besides, at liberty to go whereever I wished.

After this walk, I had returned to my chamber, and was leaning out at
the open window inhaling the delightful fragrance of the air, which
seemed to inspire me with new life and energy in every fibre, when I
beheld in the garden a man coming up the middle walk, whom I thought
that I had seen before, but could not immediately recollect where.

He was a diminutive withered figure, had upon his head a small hat with
a long peaked crown, and was dressed in a miserable weather-beaten
surtout. In his gait, he rather danced than walked; nay, every now and
then cut a caper right up into the air; and anon, started off to one
side, as if he were possessed by the demon of St Vitus. Occasionally he
made a full stop, and at one of these intervals, perceiving me at the
window, he took off his high-peaked hat, and waved it in the air, then
kissed his hand repeatedly, with an emphasis of gesticulation which at
once confirmed and cleared up my recollection. There was but one
individual in the world who could have practised these manoeuvres, and
that was Belcampo! He vanished, however, among the trees; but, not long
afterwards, I heard a particular rap at the door, of which the style and
manner immediately taught me whom I was to expect.

"Schoenfeld!" said I, as he indeed made his appearance; "how, in the name
of wonder, have you found your way hither?"

"Ach--ach!" said he, twisting his face, as if he were about to
weep--"how should I have come hither otherwise than driven and hurled
onwards as I was by that malignant and relentless destiny, which never
fails to persecute every man of true genius. On account of a murder, I
was obliged to fly from the rich and flourishing town of Frankenburg."

"On account of a murder!--What would'st thou say?" interrupted I, with
considerable agitation.

"Ay, truly," answered he--"on account of a murder. I had, in a fit of
wrath, immolated the left whisker of the youngest _Commerziensrath_ in
that free town, and had also dangerously wounded the right mustachio."

"Once more," said I, "I must beg of you to give up these absurd and
unmeaning jokes, and to tell your story connectedly, otherwise you had
better leave the room."

"Nay, dear brother Medardus," he resumed, "this is indeed unforeseen and
unaccountable; now that you are restored to health, you would send me
from you in disgrace; but, as long as you were ill, you were glad to
have me for a companion in your room, and to be always near to you."

"What does all this mean?" cried I, quite confounded; "and how have you
got to the knowledge of my name Medardus?"

"Look," said he, with an ironical smile, "if you please, at the
right-hand lappelle of your monk's cowl."

I did so, and became almost petrified with terror and astonishment, for
I found the name "Medardus" embroidered thereupon; and, on more accurate
inspection, I could discover also that this was the identical tunic
which, on my flight from the castle of the Baron von F----, I had thrown
into a hollow tree in the forest.

Schoenfeld did not fail to remark my agitation, over which he seemed
wickedly to triumph. With his fore-finger on his nose, and lifting
himself on tiptoe, he looked stedfastly in my face. I remained
speechless; then, in a low and pensive tone, he resumed--

"Your excellency, no doubt, wonders at the handsome dress which has been
chosen for you. To say the truth, it seemed in every respect to fit and
become you better than the nut-brown suit, with plated buttons, which
my wise friend Damon supplied for you. It was I, the banished, the
despised and misunderstood Belcampo, who provided for you this dress, in
order to cover your nakedness. Brother Medardus, you were then, indeed,
but in a sorry plight, for, instead of great-coat, vest, pantaloons,
English frock, &c. &c. you wore, in the simplest, and most unpretending
manner, your own skin. As to a proper friseur, you thought as little of
him as you did of a tailor, performing his functions with your own ten
fingers, in a style which was by no means to be commended."

"Give over these disgusting follies," said I, much incensed;
"Schoenfeld--I insist on your being rational, otherwise I will hear no
more!"

"Pietro Belcampo is my name," interrupted he, with great vehemence; "Ay,
Pietro Belcampo; for we are now in Italy, and you must know, reverend
sir, that I, simple as I here stand, impersonize that folly, which
luckily has been present on every disastrous occasion, to assist your
wisdom; and without which, you would have found yourself miserably
deficient. It is from Folly alone that you have derived protection. By
this alone your boasted reason, which is unable to hold itself upright,
but totters about like a drunk man or a child, has been supported, and
instructed to find the right road home, that is to say, to the
mad-house, where we are both happily arrived."

By these last words I was much agitated. I thought on the strange
figures that I had seen, especially on the tall haggard man in the dingy
yellow mantle, who had made such absurd gesticulations; and could
entertain no doubt that Schoenfeld had told me the truth. "Ay, dear
brother Medardus," resumed Schoenfeld, with solemn voice and gestures;
"Folly is, indeed, on this earth, the true intellectual queen. Reason,
on the other hand, is only a pitiful viceroy, who never troubles himself
with what happens beyond his own narrow boundaries, who, from sheer
_ennui_, indeed, makes his soldiers be exercised on the _parade-platz_,
though the said soldiers afterwards, in time of danger, cannot fire a
single volley in proper time. But Folly, the true queen of the people,
marches in with kettle-drums and trumpets--Huzza! Huzza!--before and
behind her, triumph and rejoicing! The lieges straightway emancipate
themselves from the constraint in which Reason would have held them, and
will no longer stand or walk as their pedantic tutor would have them to
do. At last he calls the roll, and complains,--'Lo! Folly hath robbed me
of my best recruits--hath driven them away--driven their wits a
wool-gathering--ay, driven them mad.' That is a play of words, dear
brother Medardus, and such play is like a glowing pair of curling-irons
in the hand of Folly, with which she can twist such a thought!"

"Desist, I once more entreat of you," said I, "desist from this childish
clatter of unmeaning words, and tell me concisely how you came hither,
and what you know regarding the dress which I now wear!" Hereupon I
seized him by both arms, and forced him into a chair, where he seemed to
recollect himself, fixed his eyes stedfastly on the ground, and with a
deep sigh resumed,--

"I have saved your life," said he, "for the second time. It was I who
enabled you to escape from the town of Frankenburg. It was I, too, who
brought you hither."

"But, in the name of Heaven," said I, "where did you last find me?"

I had let him go, and he instantly bolted up--"Ha, brother Medardus,"
said he, "if I, weak and diminutive as I seem, had not contrived to bear
you on my shoulders, your limbs would by this time, have lain the food
of ravens on the wheel!"

I shuddered as if ready to faint, and sunk into a chair. At that moment
my attendant monk entered the room. "How hast thou come hither? Who gave
thee liberty now to enter this room?" said he, very angrily, to
Belcampo.

"Alas! venerable father," said the latter, in a supplicating tone, and
pretending to burst into tears, "I could no longer resist the vehement
impulse to visit my dearest friend, whom I had rescued from danger of
death!"

I now recovered myself. "Tell me, brother," said I to the monk, "did
this man really bring me hither?"

The monk hesitated.

"I scarcely know," said I, "in what sort of hospital I am now protected,
but I can easily suppose that I have been in the most frightful of all
conditions. You perceive, however, that I am now quite well, and
therefore, I may hear all which was before intentionally concealed from
me, when you supposed that my nerves were yet too irritable."




CHAPTER XI.


"It is, indeed, quite true," said the monk, "this man brought you hither
about three months and a half ago. He had, according to his own account,
found you in the Lovanian forest, (which separates the dominions of the
Prince of Laguria, from our district,) and had recognized you for the
Capuchin Medardus from Koenigswald, who had before, on a journey to Rome,
passed through a town where he then lived.

"When first brought among us, you were in a state of utter apathy. You
walked when you were led, remained standing if one let you alone, and
seated or laid yourself down according as you were put into the required
position. Food and drink we were obliged to pour down your throat; as to
words, you were able only to utter hollow unintelligible sounds, and
your eyes appeared to stare, without the power of distinguishing any
object. Belcampo then never left you, but was your faithful attendant.
After an interval of about a month, you fell into a state of outrageous
madness, and we were obliged to place you in one of the cells
appropriated for persons in that frightful malady. You were then like a
ferocious wild beast; but I dare not describe your sufferings more
minutely, as the picture might be too painful. After some weeks, your
state of apathy again returned, and seemed more obstinate than ever, but
at last, God be praised, you awoke from your stupefaction, into your
present convalescence."

Schoenfeld had, during this narrative of the monk, seated himself, as if
in deep reflection, leaning his head on his hand. "Ay, truly," he
resumed, "I know that I am sometimes little better than a self-conceited
fool; but the air of the mad-house, destructive to reasonable people,
has on me had a very beneficial influence. I begin to speculate on my
own errors, which is no bad sign. If, generally speaking, I exist only
through my own self-consciousness, it is only requisite that this
consciousness should pull off the fool's motley coat, and I shall shew
myself to the world, a very wise, rational gentleman. But, oh, heavens!
is not a genial friseur, according to the principles of his character
and profession, a privileged fool and coxcomb? Such folly is, in truth,
a protection from all madness; and I can assure you, reverend sir, that
in a north-west wind, I can distinguish very well between a church-tower
and a lamp-post!"

"If this be really the case," said I, "give us a proof of it now by a
quiet rational narrative, how you discovered me in the wood, and brought
me to this house."

"That shall immediately be done," said Belcampo, "though the reverend
father on my right hand looks at me with a very suspicious aspect. You
must know, then, that on the morning after your escape from Frankenburg,
the foreign painter, with his collection of pictures, had also, in an
inconceivable manner, vanished; and although the disturbance that you
had raised at first excited a good deal of notice, yet, in the stream of
other events, and the bustle of the fair, it was ere long forgotten. It
was not till after the murder at the castle of the Baron von F----
became generally talked of, and the magistracy of that district
published handbills, offering a reward for the arrest of Medardus, a
Capuchin monk in Koenigswald, that people were reminded of the painter
having indeed told the whole story, and recognized in you the said
brother Medardus.

"The landlord of the hotel wherein you had lodged, confirmed a
supposition that had already got afloat, of my having been accessory to
your flight. The people, therefore, fixed their attention on me, and
would have thrown me into prison. Having long wished to quit for ever
the miserable course of life that I had been dragging on, my resolution
was, in consequence, very speedily adopted. I determined to go into
Italy, where there are _Abbates_ with powdered wigs, and encouragement
is yet afforded to an accomplished _friseur_. On my way thither I saw
you in the _residenz_ of the Prince von Rosenthurm. The people there
talked of your marriage with the Baroness Aurelia, and of the
condemnation and execution of the monk Medardus.

"I had also an opportunity of seeing this criminal monk, and whatever
his history might have been, I was convinced at once that you were the
true Medardus. I placed myself in your way, but you did not observe me,
and I left the Prince's _residenz_, in order to follow out my own plans.

"After a long and fatiguing journey, I had taken up my night's rest at a
small obscure hamlet. In the morning I rose very early, as was the
custom of the inhabitants there, and prepared to continue my laborious
progress through a forest, which lay in gloomy darkness before me. Just
as the first gleams of the morning had begun to break through the clouds
of the east, there was a rustling in the thickets, and a man, with his
hair matted, and staring out in various directions, his beard, too, in
the same disorder, but wearing an elegant modern suit of clothes, leaped
past me!

"His looks were wild and outrageous, and I gazed after him with the
greatest astonishment, but in a moment he had disappeared again in the
thick of the tangled coppice, and I could see no more of him. I walked
onwards, therefore; but what words can express the horror that I felt,
when right before me I saw a naked human figure stretched out flat upon
the ground! There seemed to me no doubt that a murder had been
committed, and that the fugitive whom I had before seen was the
murderer.

"I knelt down beside the naked man, recognized at once your features,
and perceived that you still breathed. Close beside you lay the Capuchin
habit, which at this moment you are wearing. With much labour and
stratagem I contrived to dress you in it, and to drag you along with me.
At last you awoke out of your deep swoon, but you remained in that
frightful state of apathy in which this reverend gentleman has described
you.

"It cost me no little exertion to get you dragged along, and
consequently it was not till late in the evening that I was able to
reach an ale-house, which was situated in the middle of the forest. Here
I placed you upon a bench of turf at the door, where you lay as if
utterly overcome and drunk with sleep. I then went into the house to
procure you food and drink, and, found (as I suspected might be the
case) a party of hussars, who, as the hostess informed me, were in
pursuit of a monk, who, in an inconceivable manner, had escaped at the
moment when, on account of his enormous crimes, preparations were making
for his death on the scaffold.

"It was to me an inexplicable mystery how you could have escaped out of
the _residenz_ into the forest; but the entire conviction that you were
the Medardus whom they now sought after, made me exert myself to the
utmost to rescue you from the danger which now hovered over you. Of
course, I brought you away directly from the ale-house, in which
undertaking I was favoured by the increasing darkness; and thereafter
choosing always the by-roads and most unfrequented tracks, I succeeded
at last in conducting you over the frontiers.

"Finally, after long and incredible wanderings, I came with you to this
house, where the inhabitants received us both, as I declared that I was
not willing to separate from you. Here I was convinced that you were
perfectly secure, for by no means would the venerable fathers give up a
sick person whom they had once received, to any criminal court.

"In this very chamber, then, I faithfully attended and nursed you; for
as to your own five senses, you were indeed but very indifferently
provided. Nor were the movements of your limbs to be commended. Neither
Vestris nor Noverre would have given you much encouragement, for your
head hung down on your breast, and when any one wished you to stand
upright, then you tumbled about like a capotted nine-pin or skittle. As
to your celebrated eloquence, too, you fared still worse, for you were
d----d _monosyllabic_, and in your lucid intervals, only said, 'Hu--hu!'
and 'Me--me!' out of which expressions your thoughts and wishes were not
to be very clearly divined: Indeed, it was to be supposed, that your
rational faculties had become unfaithful to you, and were gone
a-vagabondizing on their own private account.

"At last you became all of a sudden extravagantly merry, cut inordinate
capers in the air, and roared aloud with sheer exuberance of delight,
tearing your habit at the same time, in order, we supposed, to escape
even from the smallest restraint. Your appetite was then----"

"Stop, stop, Schoenfeld," cried I, "give over this horrible and cruel
raillery--you have already sufficiently informed me of the frightful
situation into which I had fallen. Thanks and praise to the
long-suffering and mercy of Heaven, and the intercession of the saints,
that I am now rescued!"

"Alas! reverend sir," resumed Schoenfeld, "in what respect are you the
better of all that you have gained, I mean of this peculiar attribute of
the soul, which is called self-consciousness? Methinks it might well be
compared to the cursed activity of a pettifogging toll-keeper, or
excise-officer, at best, or a controller of customs, who has established
his damnable _comptoir_ in the brain, and upon the last indication of
goods coming forth from hence, cries out 'Hey day! The export is
forbidden. These wares must remain in the country.' The richest jewels,
like contemptible grains of seed, remain stuck in the earth, and at
last, all that rises above the surface are _runkelrueben_,[4] from an
hundred thousand weight of which, perhaps a quarter of an ounce of bad
sugar is afterwards extracted; and yet this pitiful export is, forsooth,
to lay the foundation of trade with the glorious city of the New
Jerusalem in the realms above, where all is magnificence and splendour.
Oh, heavens! I would have given all my dearly bought powder _a la
Marchalle_, or _a la Pompadour_, or _a la Reine de Golconde_,--would
have cast it into the river, where it is deepest, if by transi-to-trade,
I could have obtained from thence but a _quentlein_ of the golden dust of
the sun's rays, to dress the wigs of reverend professors, and men of
learning, but in the first place, mine own! What do I say? If my
excellent friend Damon, reverend sir, had, instead of the flea-coloured
frock, contrived to hang about your shoulders one of those robes made of
the morning light, in which the burgesses of the holy city walk to
church, then, as to dignity and gentility, we should have come off very
differently; but as the matter stood, the world held you for a common
_glebae adscriptus_, and the devil for your cousin-german!"

[Footnote 4: Beet-roots.]

Schoenfeld had risen up, and walked, or rather hopped, about the room,
with vehement gesticulations, and twisting his features into incredible
contortions. He was in the plenitude of his vein, kindling up one folly
by another. I therefore seized him again by both arms. "Art thou
resolved," said I, "to secure thyself a place in this hospital instead
of me? Is it impossible for thee to talk more than five minutes
together without falling into these absurdities?"

"Is then all that I utter," said he, "so very foolish, when thus the
spirit comes upon me?"

"That is precisely what renders your talk so intolerable," said I.
"There is often good sense at the bottom of all this gibberish, but so
abominably metamorphosed, that a thought, good in itself, is like a fine
dress hung over with party-coloured rags. Like a drunk man, thou canst
not proceed in a straight direction, but art everlastingly floundering
away hither and thither. Thy conduct is never consistent or
consecutive."

"What is conduct?" said Schoenfeld, with a contemptuous smile--"What is
conduct, most venerable Capuchin? Doth not that term imply the
preconception in the mind of some fixed and certain object, for the
attainment of which we shape and adapt our procedure? Are you, reverend
sir, sure of your own object? Are you not rather afraid that you may
have occasionally admitted too little alloy in your spirituous
potations, and now, like a giddy tower-watcher, see two goals, without
knowing the right one? Besides, sir, let it be forgiven to one of my
profession, if he is apt, perhaps too often, to have recourse to the
humorous and the _outre_, in order to season the insipidity of this
life, as we add Spanish pepper to cauliflower; without this, an artist
of my vocation would be but a pitiful _dummkopf_,[5] who carries his
privilege in his pocket, without ever daring to make use of it."

[Footnote 5: Blockhead.]

The monk had remained in the room, and had looked attentively at
Belcampo and at me; but as we spoke German, he did not understand a
single word. At last, he resolutely interrupted our dialogue. "Excuse
me, gentlemen," said he, "if I put an end to a discourse from which it
is impossible for either of you to derive any advantage. Your health,
brother, is yet much too weak to bear with a conversation which probably
awakens painful recollections as to your past life. Besides, you will
have time enough to learn all that your friend has to inform you of, as
when you leave our establishment, he will no doubt accompany you.
Belcampo has a strange manner of speaking; and by his eloquence and
gesticulations together, never fails, when he tells a story, to bring
every adventure vividly before the eyes of his listener. In Germany he
must, I suppose, be looked on as mad. Here in Italy, he would be valued
as a capital buffoon, and on the stage might make a fortune."

Schoenfeld stared with all his might at the clergyman, then lifted
himself on tiptoe, clasped his hands over his head, and called out in
Italian, "Thou warning voice from the world of spirits--thou voice of
omnipotent destiny! To me thou hast spoken at last through the organs of
this reverend father. Belcampo--Belcampo! How could'st thou mistake so
long thy true vocation? It is now resolved!" He then ran out of the
room, and for that day I saw no more of him.

       *       *       *       *       *

Next morning he made his appearance, equipt for a journey. "Dear Brother
Medardus," said he, "you are now quite recovered; you do not any longer
require my assistance. I therefore take my departure, in order to go, as
the spirit moves me, into the world. Farewell, then! Yet permit me that
I exercise on you, for the last time, my art, although in my own
estimation it has now become utterly contemptible."

Hereupon he drew out his razors, comb, and scissars, and with a thousand
grimaces, _more suo_, brought my hair and visage into proper order. At
last he took his leave, with many tears; and as the man, notwithstanding
his fidelity, had become very strange and mysterious, and knew more of
my history than I could have wished, I was not sorry to find myself free
from his tiresome conversation.

       *       *       *       *       *

The physician's remedies had been of great service to me; and as, by
taking every day longer and longer walks, I had quite recovered my
strength, I became convinced that I was able for the fatigues of a
pedestrian journey, and resolved to leave a house, which, however
suitable to the sick, was by no means a congenial abode for those who
were in health.

The plan of going to Rome had been, without any volition of my own,
brought so far into execution. I had always been advancing farther
towards the place of my destination, and resolved, therefore, that I
would now persevere in the same course.




CHAPTER XII.


At last I had taken leave of the charitable brethren, and set out as a
pilgrim on that high road, which I was told was the proper route to the
great city. Notwithstanding that my health was now thoroughly
reinstated, yet I was conscious of a strange apathy of mind, which threw
a dark shade on every image, rendering the prospects before me grey,
withered, and cloudy. Without even any clear remembrance of my past
life, I was completely occupied by cares for the present moment. Towards
evening, I always looked out anxiously for some place, (generally a
convent or private house,) where I would be able to extort food and
shelter for the night. I rejoiced not a little, when I met with persons
sufficiently devout to fill my knap-sack and wine-bottle, in return for
which I mechanically repeated, according to monastic form, the customary
blessings. In short, I had sunk in spirit, as well as in outward
observances, into an ordinary, stupid, and depraved mendicant friar.

At last, after many adventures, no one of which deserves particular
commemoration, (for they were all of a similar character,) I came at
last to a great Capuchin Convent, which, surrounded only by houses
belonging to the establishment, and forming in itself a little town, is
situated not far from Rome. This convent, though within itself large and
populous, is, in other respects, lonely and insulated. The monks are by
their rule obliged to receive others of the same order, and I imagined
that I should live for some time with much comfort among them.

Accordingly I made up a story, such as I thought would sound favourably
in their ears. I pretended that the convent to which I belonged in
Germany had been recently broken up; that consequently I had been thrown
on the wide world, and wished to be received into some other monastery,
under the same laws.

With that hospitality and cheerfulness which are peculiar to the Italian
clergy, they, in the first place, entertained me sumptuously, and the
Prior formally said, that if no fulfilment of a sacred vow obliged me
to travel farther, I was welcome to remain there as long as I chose.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was now the hour of vespers. The monks went to their appointed places
in the choir, and I walked into the church. I was deeply impressed by
the bold and magnificent architecture of the great aisle--but, alas! my
spirit could now no more be exalted by those raptures which in early
days attended me in the church of the Holy Lime-Tree, to which this bore
a marked and mysterious resemblance!

When I had completed my devotions at the high altar, I indulged myself
in walking through the different subsidiary aisles, contemplating the
paintings at various shrines, which, as usual, represented the
martyrdoms of the saints, to whom they were severally consecrated. At
last I was attracted by a small and retired chapel, where the altar was
exquisitely illuminated by the beams of the now setting sun, that
streamed in through the painted window.

I wished to examine the picture, and devoutly making the sign of the
cross, mounted up the marble steps. Oh, heaven! It was precisely the
same, the fatal altar-piece of my own convent--the martyrdom of St
Rosalia! Methought, however, the figure was yet more beautiful, more
exquisitely attractive and seducing. It was Aurelia, in her fullest
bloom of beauty, that I beheld; and my whole past life, which I had
begun to forget, with all its wanderings and crimes--the murder of
Euphemia, of Hermogen, and of Aurelia, revived on my recollection, as if
concentrated instantaneously into one horrible thought, that penetrated
my heart and brain, like a burning hot implement of torture.

I threw myself prostrate on the stone floor. I was convulsively shook
and torn by my inward conflicts, as if I had been laid on the rack of
the most cruel and relentless inquisition. Death would have been
welcome--but, alas! death would not come to my relief! Hereupon I began
to tear my garments, in the furious rage of despair. I howled in
hopeless anguish, so that my voice resounded through the vaulted aisles
of the church.

"I am cursed," cried I aloud--"I am cursed for ever. There is for me no
grace, no consolation more--neither in this world nor in the next. To
hell--to hell am I doomed! Sentence of eternal damnation has gone forth
against me--an accursed and abandoned sinner!"

My cries of course alarmed the whole community. People came, lifted me
up, and carried me from the altar of St Rosalia. The service was now
over, and the monks assembled in the chapel. At their head was the
Prior. He looked at me with an indescribable mildness and gravity of
expression, which reminded me of Leonardus. He then advanced and took me
by the hand, while to me it seemed as if some blessed saint, hovering in
the air, held up the miserable sinner above the fiery and bottomless
pool of destruction into which he was about to plunge.

"You are ill and feverish, brother," said the Prior; "the fatigues of
your long pilgrimage have been too great a trial of your strength, but
we shall carry you safely into the sick ward of the convent, where you
will be faithfully attended by our physician, and restored to health."

I could not make any articulate answer to this address. I knelt before
him in abject misery, and even kissed the hem of his garment.
Deep-drawn sighs, which I could not repress, betrayed the frightful
condition of my soul. The monks again lifted me up, and brought me into
the refectorium, where they insisted on my accepting of some
refreshments.

On a sign from the Prior, the brethren then retired, and I remained with
him alone.

"Brother," he began, "your conscience seems to be loaded with some heavy
sins; for nothing but repentance almost without hope, on account of some
extraordinary crime, could have given rise to such conduct as you have
this evening exhibited. Yet great and boundless are the mercy and
long-suffering of God; very powerful, too, is the intercession of the
saints. Therefore, take courage! You shall confess to me; and when this
duty is fulfilled, the consolations of the church shall not be wanting."

These words in themselves were not remarkable; but the tone and manner
of the Prior made on me such an impression, that at this moment
methought the mysterious pilgrim of the Holy Lime-Tree stood beside me,
and as if he were the only being on the wide earth to whom I was bound
to disclose the horrors of my life, and from whom I must allow nothing
to remain concealed. Still I was unable to speak. I could only prostrate
myself again upon the earth before the old man.

"I am now obliged," said he, "to return to the chapel. Should you
resolve to follow my counsel, you will find me there."

My determination was already fixed. As soon as I had, by a great effort,
recovered some degree of composure, I hastened after the Prior, and
found him waiting in the confessional. Acting according to the impulse
of the moment, I began to speak, for the first time since a very long
period, without the slightest attempt at disguise. On the contrary, I
confessed all the adventures of my life, from first to last, without
mitigating a single circumstance, which the severest censor could have
suggested against me!

Horrible was the penance which the Prior now imposed upon me! Forbid to
appear again in the church--shut out like an alien from the society of
the monks, I was henceforth confined to the charnel vaults of the
convent--miserably prolonging my life by a stinted portion of tasteless
roots and water, scourging myself with knotted ropes, and mangling my
flesh with various implements of martyrdom, which the ingenuity of
demoniacal malevolence had _first_ invented, lifting up my voice only in
bitter accusations against myself, or in the most passionate and abject
supplications for deliverance from that hell whose flames already seemed
to burn within me!

But when my blood streamed from an hundred wounds--when pain, in a
hundred scorpion stings, assailed me--and nature yielded at last, from
inability to continue the conflict, so that I fell asleep like an
exhausted child, even in despite of my torments--then the horrid imagery
of dreams molested me with a new and involuntary martyrdom.

Methought I saw Euphemia, who came floating towards me in all the
luxuriance of her beauty, and casting on me the most seductive glances.
But I cried out aloud, "What would'st thou from me, thou accursed sinful
woman? No! hell shall not triumph over the truly penitent!" Then
methought her form, before so wanton and luxurious, shook and shivered.
She threw aside her robes, and a horror, like that of annihilation,
seized upon me; for I saw that her body was dried up into a skeleton,
and through the ribs of the spectre I saw not worms, but numberless
serpents that twined and twisted within and without, thrusting out their
heads and forked burning tongues towards me.

"Away!--begone!" cried I, in delirium; "thy serpents are stinging my
already wounded flesh. They would fatten on my heart's-blood,--but
then--I should die--I should die--Death would release me from thy
vengeance!"

"My serpents," howled out the spectre, who now seemed like an infernal
fury,--"my serpents may nourish themselves from thy heart's-blood, but
herein consists not thy torment, oh wretched sinner! Thy pain is within
thine own bosom, and in vain hopest thou for release in death. Thy
torment is the thought of thine own crimes, and this thought is
eternal!"

Hereafter the figure of Hermogen, streaming with blood, rose up out of
the dusky void, and Euphemia fled before him. He, too, staid not; but
rushed past, with an hideous groan, and pointing to a wound in his
throat, which had the form of the cross.

I now wished to pray; but my senses were lost and overcome in the
confusion that ensued. At first the whole air was animated, and filled
with rustling and flapping of wings, and gibbering of unearthly voices.
Then mortals, whom I had before known in the world, appeared
metamorphosed into the most insane caricatures. Heads, with well-known
features, came crawling about me on scarecrow legs, which grew out of
their own ears. Strange winged monsters, too, which I knew not, and
could not name, came floating through the air. Among these were ravens,
and other birds, with human faces. But at last, these gave place to the
Bishop's choir-master, at Koenigswald, with his sister. The latter
wheeled herself about in a wild and furious _walz_, to which her brother
supplied the music; but he kept all the while strumming on his own
breast, which had become a violin.

Belcampo, whom I recognised, although he wore a hateful lizard's head,
and sat upon a disgusting winged serpent, came driving up towards me. He
wanted to comb my beard with a red-hot iron comb; but could not succeed
in his attempt. The tumult always became wilder and wilder. More strange
and indescribable were the figures, from the smallest beetle, dancing on
large human feet, up to the long drawn-out horse skeleton, with blazing
eyes, and with his own hide made into a pillion, upon which sat a rider,
with a gleaming owl's head. A gigantic bottomless beaker served for his
coat of mail, and an inverted funnel was his helmet.

"Hell," cried a voice, "is in a mood of mirth, and triumphs!" Hereupon I
heard myself laugh aloud; but the exertion of laughter tore my breast;
my pain became more scorching, and my wounds bled more fiercely.

At last the rabble rout vanished, and there came forward the glorious
form of a woman more beauteous than the fairest of the boasted
Circassians on earth! She walked up towards me.--"Oh, heaven, it is
Aurelia!"--"I live," said she; "I live, and I am now for ever thine!"

Then the raging fires of sinful passion once more arose within me. I
flew to Aurelia, seized and embraced her with fervour. All weakness and
exhaustion were utterly forgotten; but instead of her light and
sylph-like form, methought I felt the weight and the torture of burning
lead or iron laid on my breast. My visage and eyes, too, were scratched
and wounded as if with rough bristles, like a wool-dresser's comb; and
Satan roared aloud, with thrilling laughter--"Now, _now_ art thou wholly
mine!"

With a shriek of terror I awoke, and anon my blood flowed anew in
streams, from the strokes of the knotted whip, with which, in hopeless
agony, I chastised myself. For the crime of that interview with Aurelia,
though but in a dream, demanded double penance, and I was resolved to
run the risk even of committing indirect suicide, rather than omit one
iota of the prescribed inflictions.

       *       *       *       *       *

At last, the period appointed by the Prior for my seclusion in the
vaults was over, and, by his express command, I was obliged to remove
from thence, in order to finish the remainder of my penance in the
convent, although my cell was yet to be separated from all the other
brethren; for, by such gradations, I was at last to arrive at his
permission to return to the church, and to the society of the monks.

But with the latter gradations of penance I was not myself satisfied. I
was enjoined only solitude and a daily use of the knotted rope; but I
stedfastly refused every better sort of food which was now offered to
me; and when at last allowed to enter the church, I lay for whole days
on the cold marble floor, before the shrine of St Rosalia, and chastised
myself in my cell in the most cruel and immoderate degree. By these
outward sufferings, I thought that I should overcome the more fearful
pains by which I was inwardly tormented, but in vain! Those phantoms,
the off-spring of my own perturbed imagination, always returned, and I
believed myself given up a helpless prey to Satan, who thus, for his own
special divertisement, assailed me, and enticed me to commit those sins
in _thought_, which in _deed_ were no longer in my 

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