The Monk: A Romance
Chest. The first thing which He produced was a small wooden Crucifix:
He sank upon his knees, gazed upon it mournfully, and cast his eyes
towards heaven. He seemed to be praying devoutly. At length He bowed
his head respectfully, kissed the Crucifix thrice, and quitted his
kneeling posture. He next drew from the Chest a covered Goblet: With
the liquor which it contained, and which appeared to be blood, He
sprinkled the floor, and then dipping in it one end of the Crucifix, He
described a circle in the middle of the room. Round about this He
placed various reliques, sculls, thigh-bones &c; I observed, that He
disposed them all in the forms of Crosses. Lastly He took out a large
Bible, and beckoned me to follow him into the Circle. I obeyed.
“Be cautious not to utter a syllable!” whispered the Stranger; “Step
not out of the circle, and as you love yourself, dare not to look upon
my face!”
Holding the Crucifix in one hand, the Bible in the other, He seemed to
read with profound attention. The Clock struck “One”! As usual I heard
the Spectre’s steps upon the Staircase: But I was not seized with the
accustomed shivering. I waited her approach with confidence. She
entered the room, drew near the Circle, and stopped. The Stranger
muttered some words, to me unintelligible. Then raising his head from
the Book, and extending the Crucifix towards the Ghost, He pronounced
in a voice distinct and solemn,
“Beatrice! Beatrice! Beatrice!”
“What wouldst Thou?” replied the Apparition in a hollow faltering tone.
“What disturbs thy sleep? Why dost thou afflict and torture this Youth?
How can rest be restored to thy unquiet Spirit?”
“I dare not tell!—I must not tell!—Fain would I repose in my Grave, but
stern commands force me to prolong my punishment!”
“Knowest Thou this blood? Knowest Thou in whose veins it flowed?
Beatrice! Beatrice! In his name I charge thee to answer me!”
“I dare not disobey my taskers.”
“Darest Thou disobey Me?”
He spoke in a commanding tone, and drew the sable band from his
forehead. In spite of his injunctions to the contrary, Curiosity would
not suffer me to keep my eyes off his face: I raised them, and beheld a
burning Cross impressed upon his brow. For the horror with which this
object inspired me I cannot account, but I never felt its equal! My
senses left me for some moments; A mysterious dread overcame my
courage, and had not the Exorciser caught my hand, I should have fallen
out of the Circle.
When I recovered myself, I perceived that the burning Cross had
produced an effect no less violent upon the Spectre. Her countenance
expressed reverence, and horror, and her visionary limbs were shaken by
fear.
“Yes!” She said at length; “I tremble at that mark!—respect it!—I obey
you! Know then, that my bones lie still unburied: They rot in the
obscurity of Lindenberg Hole. None but this Youth has the right of
consigning them to the Grave. His own lips have made over to me his
body and his soul: Never will I give back his promise, never shall He
know a night devoid of terror, unless He engages to collect my
mouldering bones, and deposit them in the family vault of his
Andalusian Castle. Then let thirty Masses be said for the repose of my
Spirit, and I trouble this world no more. Now let me depart! Those
flames are scorching!”
He let the hand drop slowly which held the Crucifix, and which till
then He had pointed towards her. The apparition bowed her head, and her
form melted into air. The Exorciser led me out of the Circle. He
replaced the Bible &c. in the Chest, and then addressed himself to me,
who stood near him speechless from astonishment.
“Don Raymond, you have heard the conditions on which repose is promised
you. Be it your business to fulfil them to the letter. For me nothing
more remains than to clear up the darkness still spread over the
Spectre’s History, and inform you that when living, Beatrice bore the
name of las Cisternas. She was the great Aunt of your Grandfather: In
quality of your relation, her ashes demand respect from you, though the
enormity of her crimes must excite your abhorrence. The nature of those
crimes no one is more capable of explaining to you than myself: I was
personally acquainted with the holy Man who proscribed her nocturnal
riots in the Castle of Lindenberg, and I hold this narrative from his
own lips.
“Beatrice de las Cisternas took the veil at an early age, not by her
own choice, but at the express command of her Parents. She was then too
young to regret the pleasures of which her profession deprived her: But
no sooner did her warm and voluptuous character begin to be developed
than She abandoned herself freely to the impulse of her passions, and
seized the first opportunity to procure their gratification. This
opportunity was at length presented, after many obstacles which only
added new force to her desires. She contrived to elope from the
Convent, and fled to Germany with the Baron Lindenberg. She lived at
his Castle several months as his avowed Concubine: All Bavaria was
scandalized by her impudent and abandoned conduct. Her feasts vied in
luxury with Cleopatra’s, and Lindenberg became the Theatre of the most
unbridled debauchery. Not satisfied with displaying the incontinence of
a Prostitute, She professed herself an Atheist: She took every
opportunity to scoff at her monastic vows, and loaded with ridicule the
most sacred ceremonies of Religion.
“Possessed of a character so depraved, She did not long confine her
affections to one object. Soon after her arrival at the Castle, the
Baron’s younger Brother attracted her notice by his strong-marked
features, gigantic Stature, and Herculean limbs. She was not of an
humour to keep her inclinations long unknown; But She found in Otto von
Lindenberg her equal in depravity. He returned her passion just
sufficiently to increase it; and when He had worked it up to the
desired pitch, He fixed the price of his love at his Brother’s murder.
The Wretch consented to this horrible agreement. A night was pitched
upon for perpetrating the deed. Otto, who resided on a small Estate a
few miles distant from the Castle, promised that at One in the morning
He would be waiting for her at Lindenberg Hole; that He would bring
with him a party of chosen Friends, by whose aid He doubted not being
able to make himself Master of the Castle; and that his next step
should be the uniting her hand to his. It was this last promise, which
overruled every scruple of Beatrice, since in spite of his affection
for her, the Baron had declared positively that He never would make her
his Wife.
“The fatal night arrived. The Baron slept in the arms of his perfidious
Mistress, when the Castle-Bell struck “One.” Immediately Beatrice drew
a dagger from underneath the pillow, and plunged it in her Paramour’s
heart. The Baron uttered a single dreadful groan, and expired. The
Murderess quitted her bed hastily, took a Lamp in one hand, in the
other the bloody dagger, and bent her course towards the cavern. The
Porter dared not to refuse opening the Gates to one more dreaded in the
Castle than its Master. Beatrice reached Lindenberg Hole unopposed,
where according to promise She found Otto waiting for her. He received
and listened to her narrative with transport: But ere She had time to
ask why He came unaccompanied, He convinced her that He wished for no
witnesses to their interview. Anxious to conceal his share in the
murder, and to free himself from a Woman, whose violent and atrocious
character made him tremble with reason for his own safety, He had
resolved on the destruction of his wretched Agent. Rushing upon her
suddenly, He wrested the dagger from her hand: He plunged it still
reeking with his Brother’s blood in her bosom, and put an end to her
existence by repeated blows.
“Otto now succeeded to the Barony of Lindenberg. The murder was
attributed solely to the fugitive Nun, and no one suspected him to have
persuaded her to the action. But though his crime was unpunished by
Man, God’s justice permitted him not to enjoy in peace his
blood-stained honours. Her bones lying still unburied in the Cave, the
restless soul of Beatrice continued to inhabit the Castle. Drest in her
religious habit in memory of her vows broken to heaven, furnished with
the dagger which had drank the blood of her Paramour, and holding the
Lamp which had guided her flying steps, every night did She stand
before the Bed of Otto. The most dreadful confusion reigned through the
Castle; The vaulted chambers resounded with shrieks and groans; And the
Spectre, as She ranged along the antique Galleries, uttered an
incoherent mixture of prayers and blasphemies. Otto was unable to
withstand the shock which He felt at this fearful Vision: Its horror
increased with every succeeding appearance: His alarm at length became
so insupportable that his heart burst, and one morning He was found in
his bed totally deprived of warmth and animation. His death did not put
an end to the nocturnal riots. The bones of Beatrice continued to lie
unburied, and her Ghost continued to haunt the Castle.
“The domains of Lindenberg now fell to a distant Relation. But
terrified by the accounts given him of the Bleeding Nun (So was the
Spectre called by the multitude), the new Baron called to his
assistance a celebrated Exorciser. This holy Man succeeded in obliging
her to temporary repose; But though She discovered to him her history,
He was not permitted to reveal it to others, or cause her skeleton to
be removed to hallowed ground. That Office was reserved for you, and
till your coming, her Ghost was doomed to wander about the Castle and
lament the crime which She had there committed. However, the Exorciser
obliged her to silence during his lifetime. So long as He existed, the
haunted chamber was shut up, and the Spectre was invisible. At his
death which happened in five years after, She again appeared, but only
once on every fifth year, on the same day and at the same hour when She
plunged her Knife in the heart of her sleeping Lover: She then visited
the Cavern which held her mouldering skeleton, returned to the Castle
as soon as the Clock struck “Two,” and was seen no more till the next
five years had elapsed.
“She was doomed to suffer during the space of a Century. That period is
past. Nothing now remains but to consign to the Grave the ashes of
Beatrice. I have been the means of releasing you from your visionary
Tormentor; and amidst all the sorrows which oppress me, to think that I
have been of use to you, is some consolation. Youth, farewell! May the
Ghost of your Relation enjoy that rest in the Tomb, which the
Almighty’s vengeance has denied to me for ever!”
Here the Stranger prepared to quit the apartment.
“Stay yet one moment!” said I; “You have satisfied my curiosity with
regard to the Spectre, but you leave me in prey to yet greater
respecting yourself. Deign to inform me, to whom I am under such real
obligations. You mention circumstances long past, and persons long
dead: You were personally acquainted with the Exorciser, who by your
own account has been deceased near a Century. How am I to account for
this? What means that burning Cross upon your forehead, and why did the
sight of it strike such horror to my soul?”
On these points He for some time refused to satisfy me. At length
overcome by my entreaties, He consented to clear up the whole, on
condition that I would defer his explanation till the next day. With
this request I was obliged to comply, and He left me. In the Morning my
first care was to enquire after the mysterious Stranger. Conceive my
disappointment when informed that He had already quitted Ratisbon. I
dispatched messengers in pursuit of him but in vain. No traces of the