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.]