The eventful holiday soon arrived. The church was unusually crowded, and
it was not without considerable trepidation that I mounted the pulpit.
At the commencement, I remained timidly faithful to my manuscript; and
Leonardus told me that I had spoken with a faltering voice, which,
however, exactly corresponded with certain plaintive and pathetic
considerations with which I had begun my discourse, and which,
therefore, was interpreted by most of my auditors into a very skilful
example of rhetorical _tact_.
Soon afterwards, however, it seemed as if my inward mind were gradually
lighted up by the glowing fire of supernatural inspiration. I thought no
more of the manuscript, but gave myself up to the influence of the
moment. I felt how every nerve and fibre was attuned and energized. I
heard my own voice thunder through the vaulted roof. I beheld, as if by
miracle, the halo of divine light shed around my own elevated head and
outstretched arms. By what means I was enabled to preserve connection in
my periods, or to deliver my conceptions with any degree of logical
precision, I know not, for I was carried out of myself. I could not
afterwards have declared whether my discourse had been short or
long--the time past like a dream! With a grand euphonical sentence, in
which I concentrated, as if into one _focus_, all the blessed doctrines
that I had been announcing, I concluded my sermon; of which the effect
was such as had been in the convent wholly unexampled.
Long after I had ceased to speak, there were heard through the church
the sounds of passionate weeping, exclamations of heartfelt rapture, and
audible prayers. The brethren paid me their tribute of the highest
approbation. Leonardus embraced me, and named me the pride of their
institution!
* * * * *
With unexampled rapidity my renown was spread abroad; and henceforward,
on every Sunday or holiday, crowds of the most respectable inhabitants
of the town used to be assembled, even before the doors were opened,
while the church, after all, was found insufficient to hold them. By
this homage, my zeal was proportionably increased. I endeavoured more
and more to give to my periods the proper rounding, and to adorn my
discourses throughout, with all the flowers of eloquence. I succeeded
always more and more in fettering the attention of my audience, until my
fame became such, that the attention paid to me was more like the homage
and veneration due to a saint, than approbation bestowed on any ordinary
mortal. A kind of religious delirium now prevailed through the town.
Even on ordinary week days, and on half-holidays, the inhabitants came
in crowds, merely to see Brother Medardus, and to hear him speak, though
but a few words.
Thus vanity gradually, by imperceptible, but sure approaches, took
possession of my heart. Almost unconsciously, I began to look upon
myself as the _one elect_,--the pre-eminently _chosen_ of Heaven. Then
the miraculous circumstances attending my birth at the Lime-Tree; my
father's forgiveness of a mortal crime; the visionary adventures of my
childhood;--all seemed to indicate that my lofty spirit, in immediate
commerce with supernatural beings, belonged not properly to earth, but
to Heaven, and was but suffered, for a space, to wander here, for the
benefit and consolation of mortals! It became, according to my own
judgment, quite certain, that the venerable old Pilgrim, together with
the wonderful boy that he had brought with him, had been _supernatural_
visitants,--that they had descended on earth, for the express purpose of
greeting me as the chosen saint, who was destined for the instruction of
mankind, to sojourn transiently among them.
But the more vividly all these ideas came before me, the more did my
present situation become oppressive and disagreeable. That unaffected
cheerfulness and inward serenity which had formerly brightened my
existence, was completely banished from my soul. Even all the
good-hearted expressions of the Prior, and friendly behaviour of the
monks, awoke within me only discontent and resentment. By their mode of
conduct, my vanity was bitterly mortified. In me they ought clearly to
have recognised the chosen saint who was above them so highly elevated.
Nay, they should even have prostrated themselves in the dust, and
implored my intercession before the throne of Heaven!
I considered them, therefore, as beings influenced by the most
deplorable obduracy and refractoriness of spirit. Even in my discourses
I contrived to interweave certain mysterious allusions. I ventured to
assert, that now a wholly new and mighty revolution had begun, as with
the roseate light of morning, to dawn upon the earth, announcing to
pious believers, that one of the specially elect of Heaven had been sent
for a space to wander in sublunary regions. My supposed mission I
continued to clothe in mysterious and obscure imagery, which, indeed,
the less it was understood, seemed the more to work like a charm among
the people.
Leonardus now became visibly colder in his manner, avoiding to speak
with me, unless before witnesses. At last, one day, when we were left
alone in the great _allee_ of the convent garden, he broke out--"Brother
Medardus, I can no longer conceal from you, that for some time past
your whole behaviour has been such as to excite in me the greatest
displeasure. There has arisen in your mind some adverse and hostile
principle, by which you have become wholly alienated from a life of
pious simplicity. In your discourses, there prevails a dangerous
obscurity; and from this darkness many things appear ready, if you dared
utter them, to start forward, which if plainly spoken, would effectually
separate you and me for ever. To be candid--at this moment you bear
about with you, and betray that unalterable curse of our sinful origin,
by which even every powerful struggle of our spiritual energies is
rendered a means of opening to us the realms of destruction, whereinto
we thoughtless mortals are, alas! too apt to go astray!
"The approbation, nay, the idolatrous admiration, which has been paid to
you by the capricious multitude, who are always in search of novelty,
has dazzled you, and you behold yourself in an artificial character,
which is not your own, but a deceitful phantom, which will entice you
rapidly into the gulf of perdition. Return, then, into yourself,
Medardus--renounce the delusion which thus besets and overpowers you! I
believe that I thoroughly understand this delusion,--at least, I am
well aware of its effects. Already have you lost utterly that calmness
and complacence of spirit, without which there is, on this earth, no
hope of real improvement. Take warning, then, in time! Resist the fiend
who besets you! Be once more that good-humoured and open-hearted youth
whom with my whole soul I loved!"
Tears involuntarily flowed from the eyes of the good Prior while he
spoke thus. He had taken my hand, but now letting it fall, he departed
quickly without waiting for any answer.
His words had indeed penetrated my heart; but, alas! the impressions
that they had left were only those of anger, distrust, and resentment.
He had spoken of the approbation, nay, the admiration and respect, which
I had obtained by my wonderful talents; and it became but too obvious
that only pitiful envy had been the real source of that displeasure,
which he so candidly expressed towards me.
Silent, and wrapt up within myself, I remained at the next meeting of
the brethren, a prey to devouring indignation. Still buoyed up and
excited by the wild inspirations which had risen up within me, I
continued through whole days and long sleepless nights my laborious
contrivances how I might best commit to paper (without a too candid
avowal of my self-idolatry) the glorious ideas that crowded on my mind.
Meanwhile, the more that I became estranged from Leonardus and the
monks, the better I succeeded in attracting the homage of the people;
and my discourses never failed to rivet their attention.
On St Anthony's day this year, it happened that the church was more than
ever thronged--in such manner, that the vestry-men were obliged to keep
the doors open, in order that those who could not get in might at least
hear me from without. Never had I spoken more ardently, more
impressively,--in a word, with more _onction_. I had related, as usual,
many wonderful anecdotes from the lives of the saints, and had
demonstrated in what degree their examples, though not imitable in their
fullest extent, might yet be advantageously applied in real life. I
spoke, too, of the manifold arts of the Devil, to whom the fall of our
first parents had given the power of seducing mankind; and
involuntarily, before I was aware, the stream of eloquence led me away
into the legend of the Elixir, which I wished to represent as an
ingenious allegory.
Then suddenly, my looks, in wandering through the church, fell upon a
tall haggard figure, who had mounted upon a bench, and stood in a
direction nearly opposite to me, leaning against a pillar. He was in a
strange foreign garb, with a dark violet-coloured mantle, of which the
folds were twined round his crossed arms. His countenance was deadly
pale; but there was an unearthly glare in his large black staring eyes,
which struck into my very heart. I trembled involuntarily--a mysterious
horror pervaded my whole frame. I turned away my looks, however, and,
summoning up my utmost courage, forced myself to continue my discourse.
But, as if constrained by some inexplicable spell of an enchanter--as if
fascinated by the basilisk's eyes--I was always obliged to look back
again, where the man stood as before, changeless and motionless, with
his large spectral eyes glaring upon me.
On his high wrinkled forehead, and in the lineaments of his down-drawn
mouth, there was an expression of bitter scorn, of disdain mixed almost
with hatred. His whole figure presented something indescribably and
supernaturally horrid, such as belonged not to this life. The whole
truth now came on my remembrance. It was, it could be no other, than the
unknown miraculous painter from the Lime-Tree, whose form, beheld in
infancy, had never wholly vanished from my mind, and who now haunted me
like the visible impersonification of that hereditary guilt by which my
life was overshadowed.
I felt as if seized on and grappled with by ice-cold talons: My periods
faltered;--my whole discourse became always more and more confused.
There arose a whispering and murmuring in the church;--but the stranger
remained utterly unmoved; and the fixed regard of his eyes never for a
moment relented. At last, in the full paroxysm--the climax of terror and
despair--I screamed aloud--"Thou revenant!--Thou accursed
sorcerer!--Away with thee from hence!--Begone! for I myself am he!--I am
the blessed St Anthony!"