I was again brought into the carriage, which, to my surprise, was now
empty; and they drove me rapidly away. The terrors of the night--the
violent excitement which I had undergone, and my grief for the
unfortunate Cyrillus, combined to produce a deep gloomy reverie, in
which I scarcely remembered where I was, or knew what was passing around
me. When the carriage stopped, I took no notice; but from this trance I
was awoke by two men, who lifted me (as if I had been unable to help
myself) out of the carriage, and then threw me down, roughly enough,
upon the ground.
The morning had already broke, and I found myself before the gate of my
own convent, of which I immediately rang the bell. The porter was
terrified at my pale and disordered aspect; and, of course, had
announced his apprehensions to the Prior, for, immediately after early
mass, the latter came with anxious looks into my cell.
To his questions I only answered generally, that the death of the person
whom I had been sent for to absolve had been very horrible, and that,
consequently, I could not help being much agitated. The Prior was
satisfied with this answer, but soon afterwards, from the insupportable
torment which I felt in my left arm, I could not contain myself, but
screamed out aloud.
The surgeon of the convent was sent for, and, meanwhile, the sleeve of
my habit ripped open; but the cloth had already grown into my flesh, and
the whole arm was found withered, and eaten away to the very bone, by a
deleterious caustic.
"I was to have drunk wine," said I to the Prior, "but allowed the
contents of the glass to run thus into my sleeve." I said no more,
remembering the injunctions of Cyrillus to secrecy.
On the arrival of the physician, he declared that the wine had been
impregnated with the most destructive and corrosive of all poisons; but
by the remedies which he applied, my torment was lessened, at least,
though by no means assuaged. My recovery was slow and tedious; for it
was considered doubtful whether the limb ought not to be amputated. I
escaped that misfortune, however; but my arm remains to this hour
withered and powerless.
"I am now perfectly aware," said the Prior, one morning after I became
convalescent, "of the peculiar circumstances by which you have lost the
use of your arm. The pious Brother Cyrillus vanished in the most
mysterious manner from our convent and from Rome; and you, dear Brother
Medardus, will in the same manner be lost, if you do not immediately
change your residence. During your illness, many suspicious inquiries
were made after you, and had it not been for my watchfulness, and the
faithful attachment of your brethren, probably you would not now have
been in life.
"To me you appeared from the first an extraordinary man, under the
influence of a destiny, whose final decrees are yet inscrutable; but
however this may be, you have certainly, since your arrival in Rome,
attracted far too much attention, to escape the animosity and
watchfulness of certain people, who, no doubt, wish you to be removed
out of their way. My advice is, therefore, that you should return home
to your own country, and to your own convent. May all happiness, and,
above all, the grace of God, be with you!"
Even without this admonition of the Prior, I should have clearly felt,
that so long as I remained in Rome, my life must be in constant danger.
To this painful thought, others were added. I was haunted still by the
recollection of my numberless and enormous crimes; then, above all,
there was the immediate torment of my festering and withered arm. I
could not value a life which was so useless and miserable, but, on the
contrary, reverted frequently to the thoughts of suicide, which only the
terror of committing a new crime prevented me from carrying into
execution. But even without this, I might soon fall in the way of
obtaining for myself a timely and welcome martyrdom, and whether this
should occur at Rome or elsewhere was to me indifferent.
More and more, however, I accustomed myself to dwell on the thoughts of
a speedy and violent death, to which, by my penitence, I considered
myself entitled. Methought I saw the figure of the monk Medardus, _of
myself_, issuing from the gates of the convent, and passing along the
road. Then there appeared behind him a dark and indefinable form, who
stabbed him with a stiletto to the heart. A crowd immediately collected
round the bloody corpse. "Medardus!" cried they; "the pious and blessed
penitent Medardus is murdered!"
These words were spread and repeated hundred-fold through the streets;
and the crowd always became more numerous, lamenting the loss of a saint
so gifted and distinguished. Women kneeled down, and reverentially dipt
their handkerchiefs in the blood which flowed from my wounds. In doing
this, one of them remarked the scar of the cross on my neck, whereupon
she exclaimed aloud--"He is indeed a martyr--a glorified saint! See here
the impress of Heaven, which he has borne on his earthly frame!"
Hereupon all the multitude threw themselves on their knees, and happy
were those who could touch the mortal remains of the saint, or even the
hem of his garment! Then a new impulse was given. There was an opening
made in the crowd. A bier was brought forward, ornamented with a
profusion of flowers, and in triumphant march, with prayer, and the
choral voice of divine music, the attendant youths carry on it the dead
body of the saint onwards to the church of St Peter!
Thus my still wandering and deluded fantasy elaborated, in the most
vivid colours, a picture, representing my own martyrdom. Without once
apprehending how the deceitful demon of pride led me on, and by new
methods laboured to ensure my destruction, I resolved, after my perfect
recovery, to remain in Rome; to continue the same penitential life which
I had hitherto adopted, and then either to die in the full odour and
splendour of sanctity, or else, being rescued by the Pope, to raise
myself up to high dignities and power in the church.
My convalescence, as I have already mentioned, was very tedious, but the
powerful energies of my constitution enabled me at first to bear up
against the torture, and at last triumph over that abominable poison,
which had not only destroyed one limb, but threatened, by sympathy, to
injure my whole vitals. The physician, however, had no doubts of my
perfect restoration. Indeed, it was only at those moments of mental
confusion which usually precede sleep, that I was liable still to
feverish attacks and delirium.
In one of these paroxysms I was visited by an extraordinary dream, of
which the circumstances were far too wild and confused to be faithfully
described. Methought I again looked on my own dead body, but not as
before in a public street of Rome. It was now laid in a lonely _berceau_
walk of the convent at Koenigswald, where every object in the landscape
came in vivid colours to my remembrance. Methought I was conscious of my
own separate existence, as a self-subsisting idea, and then I ascended,
as if borne up by my own buoyancy, from the realms of earth, and ere
long found myself floating in a cloud of a beautiful roseate colour.
There I beheld a magnificent array of wood-crowned mountains and rocky
cliffs, gleaming in the morning sun, but far more beautiful than those
of the earth. Anon, methought I stood at the lofty gate of a gorgeous
palace, and wished to enter; but fearful bolts of lightning crossed and
re-crossed each other, like fiery lances, betwixt me and the entrance,
till I was struck down into the bosom of a damp, obscure, and colourless
cloud. As I fell down deeper and deeper, I again beheld the dead body,
which raised itself up and stared upon me with ghastly, lustreless eyes,
and howled out some accents of lamentation, like the north wind in a
narrow ravine. Anon, methought the face of all nature became dead and
withered. The flowers declined their heads, sank down, and faded away.
The trees lost every leaf, and their dry branches rattled like the
marrowless joints of a skeleton. I saw men and women too, no longer like
living beings, but like pale, hideous spectres, and they threw
themselves in despair on the earth, calling out, "Mercy! mercy! Is then
the guilt of our crimes so enormous, that thou, oh Lord, givest unto our
Arch-Enemy power to destroy, and render vain the sin-offering of our
blood?"
I wished for annihilation, though, being a disembodied idea, this was
impossible. Then methought I was, as if by an electrical shock, roused
up from my sleep. The great clock of the convent struck twelve. "The
dead raise themselves up," said a voice; "they rise out of their
graves, and are gone to divine worship." Accordingly, I began to pray.
Then I heard a slight knocking at my door, and believed it was one of my
brethren, who wished to come into the room, till, with
unspeakable horror, I recognized the voice of my ghostly
DOUBLE.--"Broth-er--Broth-er!" said the voice--"I am here--I am
here!--Come with me--Come with me!"
I wished thereupon to start up from my couch, but a shuddering coldness
had fettered every limb, and every attempted movement produced only a
convulsive inward struggle. My only refuge was in prayer; and I heard,
in a strange manner, the audible effect of my own voice. Now it
gradually triumphed over the renewed knocking and stammering of the
spectre; but at last all was confused and lost in the hum of ten
thousand voices, as when the air is filled with myriads of insects. Anon
this humming changed to articulate lamentations as before, and methought
I was again wrapt in the dark cloud; but suddenly there came over it a
gleam of the most exquisite morning red. Through the dark vapours
descended a tall and dignified form, on whose bosom a cross shone with
dazzling effulgence. The features were those of St Rosalia!
The lamentations were now turned to an exulting hymn of praise; and from
afar I beheld the landscape again blooming in all the luxuriance of
spring. Only my own voice was now heard, lamenting--"Shall I then alone,
of all these rejoicing inhabitants of earth, be given a prey to
everlasting torments?"--Then a change came over that beautiful phantom.
Its awe-striking dignity was transformed into mild grace and
beneficence, and a sweet smile was diffused over her features.
"AURELIA!" cried I aloud, and with that name I at last in reality awoke,
and saw the clear morning light beaming into my cell.
By this introduction of Aurelia I clearly recognized the new endeavours
of the restless powers of darkness against me; and no sooner was this
perception aroused, than I understood also the nature of those delusions
by which I had been induced to remain in Rome. I hastened down to the
church, and prayed with great fervour, leaving out, however, all bodily
chastisements, having need of all the strength that I could muster for
my long and fatiguing journey. Before the mid-day sun shot down his
perpendicular and insupportable beams, I was already far from Rome,
taking precisely the same road by which I had come thither.