_Additions by Father Spiridion, Librarian of the Capuchin Monastery at
Koenigswald._
In the night of the 3d-4th September, in this year 17--, much that is
worthy of being recorded has happened in our monastery. It might be
about midnight, when, in the cell of Brother Medardus, which was next to
mine, I overheard a strange noise of stammering and laughing, which
continued for a considerable time; and at intervals I heard also obscure
sounds of lamentation, sobbing, and groaning. It seemed to me as if I
could distinguish the articulate accents of a most disagreeable broken
voice, from which I involuntarily recoiled and shuddered, and which
pronounced the words "_Brued-er-lein! Brued-er-lein!_--Come with me--Come
with me.--The bride is here--The bride is here!"--I immediately started
up, and wished to inquire for Brother Medardus; but then there fell
upon me an unaccountable and supernatural horror, so that my limbs shook
and my jaws clattered, as if in the cold fit of an ague. Thereafter, I
went not into the cell of Brother Medardus, but to the Prior, and, with
some trouble, woke him from his sleep. The Prior was much alarmed by my
description of what I had heard, and desired me to bring consecrated
candles, and then we should both go to the assistance of Medardus. I did
as he commanded me, lighted the candles at the lamp beside the image of
the blessed Virgin in the aisle, and we went along the corridor, till we
came near the cell. There Leonardus stood for some time, listening at
the door; but the voice which I had described to him was no longer to be
heard. On the contrary, we observed a pleasant silvery sound, as of the
ringing of bells, and methought the air was filled with the fragrance of
roses. Leonardus was about to enter, when the door opened, and lo! there
stepped forth the form of a very tall man, with a long white beard,
attired in a dark violet-coloured mantle. I was indescribably terrified,
knowing well that this must be a supernatural apparition, for the
convent gates were all firmly locked, and it was impossible for any
stranger, without my knowledge, to have gained admittance. Leonardus,
however, looked at him boldly, though without uttering a word. "The hour
of fulfilment is not far distant," said the figure, in a tone very
hollow and solemn. With these words he vanished in the obscurity of the
corridor, so that my fear was greatly increased, and I had almost let
the candles fall out of my hand. The Prior, who, by his extreme piety
and strength of faith, is wholly protected from any such fear of ghosts,
took me by the arm. "Now," said he, "let us go, and speak with Brother
Medardus." We entered accordingly, and found our brother, who for some
time past had been in very weak health, already dying. He could no
longer speak, and breathed with great difficulty. The Prior assisted
him; and I went to ring the great bell, and awaken the brethren. "Rise
up--rise up," cried I in a loud voice; "Brother Medardus is on the point
of death." They all attended on the instant, so that not one of our
number was wanting, and stood, with consecrated candles in their hands,
round the couch of the dying man, every one feeling for him deep regret
and compassion. Leonardus commanded that he should be laid on a bier,
carried down to the church, and placed before the high altar, which was
accordingly done. There, to our utter astonishment, he recovered, and
began to speak. Leonardus, after confession and absolution had been
regularly gone through, administered the last unction. Thereupon, while
the Prior continued with the dying man, consoling and supporting him, we
betook ourselves to the choir, and sang the usual dirge for the soul's
weal of our departing brother. On the following day, namely, on the 5th
September, 17--, exactly as the convent clock struck twelve, Brother
Medardus expired in the arms of the Prior. We remarked that it was
precisely on the same day, and at the same hour, in the preceding year,
that the nun Rosalia, in a horrible manner, just after she had taken the
vows, had been murdered.
At the funeral, during the requiem also, the following circumstance
occurred. We perceived that the air was strongly perfumed by roses, and
on looking round, saw, that to the celebrated picture of St Rosalia's
martyrdom, painted by an old unknown Italian artist, (which was
purchased for a large sum by our convent, in Rome,) there was a large
garland affixed, of the finest and freshest roses, which at this late
season had become very rare. The porter said, that early in the morning
a ragged, very miserable-looking beggar, unobserved by any of us, had
climbed up to the picture, and hung on it this wreath. The same beggar
made his appearance before the funeral was over, and forced his way
among the brethren. We intended to order him away; but when Leonardus
had sharply looked at, and seemed to recognize him, he was allowed, by
the Prior's order, to remain. He was afterwards, by his earnest
entreaty, received as a lay-monk into the convent, by the name of
Brother Peter, as he had been in the world called Peter Schoenfeld; and
we granted him this honoured name so much the more readily, as he was
always very quiet and well-behaved, only now and then made strange
grimaces, and laughed very absurdly, which, however, as it could not be
called sinful, only served for our diversion. The Prior said, that
Brother Peter's intellectual light was quenched and obscured by the
vapours of folly, so that nothing in this world appeared to him without
being strangely caricatured and metamorphosed. We scarcely understood
what the learned Prior meant by these allusions, but perceived that he
had known something of the former life of our lay-brother Peter, which
induced him charitably to admit the poor man among us.
Thus to the manuscript, which is said to contain an account of our late
brother's life, (but which I have not read,) I have added, not without
labour, and all to the greater glory of God and our religion, this
circumstantial history of his death. Peace to the soul of Medardus, and
may the Almighty one day call him to a blessed resurrection, and receive
him into the choir of the saints, for his death was indeed very pious!
THE END.
EDINBURGH:
Printed by James Ballantyne and Co.