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.