The Monk: A Romance

“In the whole course of his life He has never been known to transgress a single rule of his order; The smallest stain is not to be discovered upon his character; and He is reported to be so strict an observer of Chastity, that He knows not in what consists the difference of Man and Woman. The common People therefore esteem him to be a Saint.”

Don Lorenzo’s explanation to Antonia as to why Ambrosio is so famous in Madrid establishes Ambrosio’s public reputation for perfect virtue. At the same time, the hyperbole that Don Lorenzo employs—that Ambrosio “knows not in what consists the difference of Man and Woman”—casts doubt on the truth of Ambrosio’s flawless reputation, establishing the tension of Appearance Versus Reality. This exaggeration causes the reader to question whether any human could (or even should) maintain such perfect chastity.

“Ambrosio’s character is perfectly without reproach; and a Man who has passed the whole of his life within the walls of a Convent, cannot have found the opportunity to be guilty, even were He possessed of the inclination. But now, when, obliged by the duties of his situation, He must enter occasionally into the world, and be thrown in the way of temptation, it is now that it behoves him to show the brilliance of virtue. The trial is dangerous; He is just at that period of life when the passions are most vigorous, unbridled, and despotic; His established reputation will mark him out to Seduction as an illustrious Victim.”

Don Lorenzo’s reflections on Ambrosio foreshadow the primary narrative of the novel: the “trial” of Ambrosio’s virtue and his disastrous inability to regulate his “passions.” Don Lorenzo implies that, ironically, a strict religious upbringing does not prepare a man to withstand temptation; rather, it shelters him so much from temptation (Ambrosio “cannot have found the opportunity to be guilty”) that it weakens his ability to resist it. At the same time, Don Lorenzo personifies sin—in this case, “Seduction”—as though it were an active force seeking out an attractive “Victim.” Don Lorenzo suggests that virtue inevitably draws the attention of forces of evil, highlighting Human Frailty in the Face of Temptation.

“Instantly the Cathedral seemed crumbling into pieces; The Monks betook themselves to flight, shrieking fearfully; The Lamps were extinguished, the Altar sank down, and in its place appeared an abyss vomiting forth clouds of flame. Uttering a loud and terrible cry the Monster plunged into the Gulph, and in his fall attempted to drag Antonia down with him. He strove in vain. Animated by supernatural powers She disengaged herself from his embrace; But her white Robe was left in his possession. Instantly a wing of brilliant splendour spread itself from either of Antonia’s arms. She darted upwards.”

Don Lorenzo’s prophetic dream presents a simplified, symbolic depiction of the novel’s events. Ambrosio, “the Monster” who despoils the angelic Antonia, ends by sinking into the “abyss” of hell while Antonia is lifted “upwards” to heaven. However, Antonia’s “white robe,” a symbol of her virginity, remains in Ambrosio’s hands; the dream foreshadows Ambrosio’s rape and murder of Antonia. This dream suggests that the narrative will depict a dramatic contest between good and evil in which good ultimately triumphs, but at the cost of Antonia’s life.

“Have I not freed myself from the frailty of Mankind? Fear not, Ambrosio! Take confidence in the strength of your virtue. Enter boldly into a world, to whose failings you are superior; Reflect that you are now exempted from Humanity’s defects, and defy all the arts of the Spirits of Darkness.”

Ambrosio’s monologue, in which he reflects on the possibility that he might sin, demonstrates his self-righteous arrogance. Ambrosio declares himself “superior” to the rest of “Mankind”; in a typical Christian narrative, such pride is always followed by a fall. Ambrosio’s defiant belief that he can resist all “the Spirits of Darkness” seems to invite the forces of evil to challenge him, foreshadowing that Ambrosio’s confidence will soon be shaken.

“Man of an hard heart! Hear me, Proud, Stern, and Cruel! You could have saved me; you could have restored me to happiness and virtue, but would not! You are the destroyer of my Soul; You are my Murderer, and on you fall the curse of my death and my unborn Infant’s! Insolent in your yet-unshaken virtue, you disdained the prayers of a Penitent.”

Agnes’s “curse” on Ambrosio further reveals the flaws within his supposedly faultless character. Rather than showing Agnes mercy, Ambrosio turns her over to the pitiless prioress. Agnes predicts that Ambrosio will regret his actions when he finds himself in a similar position (revealed as a sinner and pleading for leniency), and her “curse” (or prophecy) is fulfilled when Elvira discovers Ambrosio in her daughter’s bedchamber and vows to inform all of Madrid of his transgressions.

“Ambrosio had yet to learn, that to an heart unacquainted with her, Vice is ever most dangerous when lurking behind the Mask of Virtue.”

The Monk repeatedly underscores that evil does not appear in the obvious form of a “Monster,” as Don Lorenzo’s dream suggests. Rather, the novel insists that evil (personified here as “Vice”) typically appears in outwardly attractive or saintly forms (“lurking behind the Mask of Virtue”). Both Ambrosio and the prioress conceal their sins using their social positions as religious leaders. The novel also suggests that “Vice” grows even worse (“most dangerous”) when disguised behind “Virtue,” as sinners commit the additional sin of hypocrisy in attempting to conceal their vices.

“Either I must die at present, or expire by the lingering torments of unsatisfied desire. Oh! since we last conversed together a dreadful veil has been rent from before my eyes. I love you no longer with the devotion which is paid to a Saint: I prize you no more for the virtues of your soul; I lust for the enjoyment of your person. The Woman reigns in my bosom, and I become petty to the wildest of passions.”

Matilda initially claims to feel only religious devotion for Ambrosio, but she describes her realization that she lusts for Ambrosio as a “veil” being torn away to reveal her true desires beneath; the “veil” serves as a metaphor for sexual purity (as it does throughout the novel). In contrast to the modesty that characterizes the other women in the novel, Matilda identifies femininity with uncontrollable sexuality: “The Woman reigns in my bosom, and I become petty to the wildest of passions.”

“It represented a Female of more than human stature, clothed in the habit of some religious order. Her face was veiled. On her arm hung a chaplet of beads. Her dress was in several places stained with blood which trickled from a wound upon her bosom. In one hand she held a Lamp, in the other a large Knife, and She seemed advancing towards the iron gates of the Hall.”

In this description of the ghost of the Bleeding Nun, the typical connotations of religious imagery are turned upside down; signs of religious faith become the attributes of a monster. The Bleeding Nun carries the chaplet and lamp associated with depictions of nuns and saints, but she pairs these symbols with a terrifying knife and bloodstains. This juxtaposition creates a sense of religious violation, which the symbolism of the bloody veil reinforces. Once again, the nun’s veil represents sexual purity; the Bleeding’s Nun’s purity has been “stained” by her sexual transgressions. The Bleeding Nun symbolizes religious degradation and hypocrisy, important themes within the novel. She also exemplifies how The Monk repurposes traditional religious imagery to inspire horror in its readers.

“While I sat upon a broken ridge of the Hill, the stillness of the scene inspired me with melancholy ideas not altogether unpleasing. The Castle which stood full in my sight, formed an object equally awful and picturesque. Its ponderous Walls tinged by the moon with solemn brightness, its old and partly-ruined Towers lifting themselves into the clouds and seeming to frown on the plains around them, its lofty battlements oer-grown with ivy, and folding Gates expanding in honour of the Visionary Inhabitant, made me sensible of a sad and reverential horror.”

Don Raymond’s description of the German castle in which Agnes resides encapsulates the imagery and spirit of early Romanticism and Gothic literature. This scene possesses all of the imagery that would become classic elements of the Gothic genre: a “picturesque” Castle; old and crumbling “Towers,” over-grown vegetation, and a moonlit night. This “melancholy,” ghostly atmosphere came to define the Gothic novel in English. The early Gothic novel’s links to German Romanticism are also evident here, as Don Raymond finds this scene not only horrifying but awe-inspiring; he experiences the “reverential” sadness typical of Romantic literary descriptions of the “sublime.”

“With trembling apprehension I examined this midnight Visitor. God Almighty! It was the Bleeding Nun! It was my lost Companion! Her face was still veiled, but she no longer held her Lamp and dagger. She lifted up her veil slowly. What a sight presented itself to my startled eyes! I beheld before me an animated Corse. Her countenance was long and haggard; Her cheeks and lips were bloodless; The paleness of death spread over her features, and her eye-balls fixed steadfastly upon me were lustreless and hollow.”

Don Raymond’s first-person account of his encounter with the Bleeding Nun encourages the reader to identify with Don Raymond’s overwhelming horror. Don Raymond’s short, sharp exclamations create a sense of immediacy and panic while also generating suspense; his pacing of the tale repeatedly delays the crucial description of her deathly face (“Her face was still veiled […] she no longer held the lamp […] She lifted up her veil […] What a sight […]!”). Throughout The Monk, the lifting of a veil reveals an underlying truth or reality, reinforcing the novel’s contention that evil disguises itself with the trappings of virtue (in this case, a nun’s habit).

“But what [Ambrosio] wanted in purity of heart, He supplied by exterior sanctity. The better to cloak his transgression, He redoubled his pretensions to the semblance of virtue, and never appeared more devoted to Heaven as since He had broken through his engagements. Thus did he unconsciously add Hypocrisy to perjury and incontinence: He had fallen into the latter errors from yielding to seduction almost irresistible; But he was now guilty of a voluntary fault by endeavouring to conceal those, into which [Matilda] had betrayed him.”

This passage expresses the novel’s condemnation of the ways Religion, Power, and Hypocrisy intertwine. Ambrosio’s fatal sin is not his sexual excess but his hypocritical desire to maintain his virtuous reputation. The passage asserts that while many men would succumb to sexual temptation (“seduction almost irresistible”), Ambrosio makes a much greater moral error in attempting to “conceal” his transgressions (“he was now guilty of a voluntary fault”). The word “voluntary” suggests that Ambrosio bears more responsibility and blame for his hypocrisy than for his lust. This passage also furthers the novel’s motif of sinfulness disguised by “exterior sanctity.”

“[Ambrosio] was taught to consider compassion for the errors of Others as a crime of the blackest dye: The noble frankness of his temper was exchanged for servile humility; and in order to break his natural spirit, the Monks terrified his young mind, by placing before him all the horrors with which Superstition could furnish them […] While the Monks were busied in rooting out his virtues, and narrowing his sentiments, they allowed every vice which had fallen to his share, to arrive at full perfection. He was suffered to be proud, vain, ambitious, and disdainful.”

This passage criticizes the religious education that (the novel claims) monastic orders provide. The Monk argues that religious orders focus so much on terrifying children with visions of punishment for sinful behavior that they fail to promote positive values of compassion and honesty. More radically, the author suggests that a strict religious upbringing “breaks” a child’s “natural spirit,” resulting in a psychologically and spiritually affected adult. This passage contributes to the novel’s critique of religious hypocrisy and monasticism; it also generates some sympathy for Ambrosio, as the author suggests that Ambrosio would have been a better man were he not raised in the repressive atmosphere of a monastery.

“[Elvira] now endeavoured to make her Daughter [Antonia] aware of the risqué, which She had ran: But she was obliged to treat the subject with caution, lest in removing the bandage of ignorance, the veil of innocence should be rent away.”

Once again, veils symbolize sexual purity. However, this passage suggests that Elvira’s obsessive desire to maintain her daughter’s innocence actually places Antonia in danger; in this instance, it would be better for the “veil” to be “rent away” to expose the truth. “Removing the bandage of ignorance” serves as a metaphor for informing Antonia of Ambrosio’s nefarious plans to seduce her, which Elvira will inadvertently violate Antonia’s innocence by making her aware of sexual desire. Elvira ultimately chooses to preserve Antonia’s “ignorance” and thus her “veil of innocence,” leading to disastrous consequences for Antonia.

“Are you then God’s Friend at present? Have you not broken your engagements with him, renounced his service, and abandoned yourself to the impulse of your passions? Are you not planning the destruction of innocence, the ruin of a Creature, whom he formed in the mould of Angels? If not Daemons, whose aid would you invoke to forward this laudable design? Will the Seraphims protect it, conduct Antonia to your arms, and sanction with their ministry your illicit pleasures? Absurd!”

Throughout The Monk, Matilda employs logical arguments to convince Ambrosio to commit more and greater sins. Matilda uses the language and techniques of an orator; here, she employs rhetorical questions to convince Ambrosio that it is useless for him to appeal to God for redemption. Because it would be “absurd” for Ambrosio to appeal to God after committing so many sins, Matilda suggests that the only logical course of action is for Ambrosio to appeal to “Daemons,” or Satan. In The Monk, evil not only takes on an alluring appearance but makes eloquent, persuasive arguments; the novel cautions against taking a rationalist approach to morality that discounts God’s forgiveness, which exceeds the bounds of human understanding.

“[Matilda] had quitted her religious habit: She was now clothed in a long sable Robe, on which was traced in gold embroidery a variety of unknown characters: It was fastened by a girdle of precious stones, in which was fixed a poignard. Her neck and arms were uncovered. In her hand She bore a golden wand. Her hair was loose and flowed wildly upon her shoulders; Her eyes sparkled with terrific expression; and her whole Demeanour was calculated to inspire the beholder with awe and admiration.”

This passage portrays Matilda’s sorcery as empowering and alluring. The description includes imagery commonly associated with sorcery or magic in the late 18th century: “unknown characters,” “precious stones,” a “poignard,” and a “wand.” However, the passage goes further in associating magic with uncontrolled female sexuality, developing the theme of Sexual Desire, Danger, and Deviance; Matilda’s arms are bare, and “her hair [is] loose and flow[s] wildly,” symbolizing unrestrained sexual passion. As a sorceress, Matilda appears not only sexually attractive to Ambrosio but as a dominant—even domineering—figure; her powerful presence “inspire[s]” Ambrosio’s “awe and admiration.” The revelation that Matilda is a magician completes the reversal of traditional gender roles that characterizes Ambrosio and Matilda’s relationship. The powerful Matilda now guides the subservient Ambrosio.

“While [Elvira] spoke thus, the remembrance of Agnes struck upon [Ambrosio’s] mind. Thus had She sued to him for mercy, and thus had he refused her prayer! It was now his turn to suffer, and He could not but acknowledge that his punishment was just.”

This moment closes the narrative circle initiated by Agnes’s “curse” on Ambrosio after he cruelly turns her over to the prioress. As Agnes predicted, Ambrosio now finds himself in the position of a sinner begging for mercy; this role reversal reinforces just how far the proud Ambrosio has fallen in the course of the narrative.

“Here was an opportunity offered [Ambrosio] of gaining access to Antonia, but he hesitated to employ it. The reputation which He enjoyed in Madrid was still dear to him; and since He had lost the reality of virtue, it appeared as if its semblance was become more valuable.”

The novel continues to emphasize Ambrosio’s overwhelming desire to protect his “reputation” above all else. Ambrosio is far more terrified of having his sins known by the public than of God’s judgment. This persistent concern with the “semblance” (rather than the “reality”) of virtue furthers the novel’s theme of religious hypocrisy.

“[Lorenzo] had long observed with disapprobation and contempt the superstition, which governed Madrid’s Inhabitants. His good sense had pointed out to him the artifices of the Monks, the gross absurdity of their miracles, wonders, and suppositious reliques. He blushed to see his Countrymen the Dupes of deceptions so ridiculous, and wished only for an opportunity to free them from their monkish fetters.”

This passage expresses the novel’s strongest critique of organized religion. Through Don Lorenzo’s perspective, the author suggests that much of what passes for serious religion among the public amounts to mere “superstition,” which the author defines as belief in miracles and the power of saints’ relics. The author claims that religious authorities dazzle the public with attractive but deceitful performances of religious power to maintain control over the populace; Don Lorenzo describes the public as imprisoned by “monkish fetters,” or chains. This passage associates religious authority (“the Monks”) with both hypocrisy and tyranny.

“I am now at liberty to relate a Tale, whose circumstances will freeze every honest soul with horror. Mine is the task to rend the veil from Hypocrisy, and show misguided Parents to what dangers the Woman is exposed, who falls under the sway of a monastic Tyrant.”

Mother St. Ursula’s inset tale relates the crimes of the Prioress of St. Clare. The novel once again metaphorically describes the revelation of truth as the tearing away of a “veil” of deception. In her tale of the cruel prioress, Mother St. Ursula emphasizes the novel’s key themes of religious hypocrisy and power; she describes the prioress as a corrupt “Tyrant,” lording her authority over her subject nuns.

“The Rioters heeded nothing but the gratification of their barbarous vengeance. They refused to listen to her: They showed her every sort of insult, loaded her with mud and filth, and called her by the most opprobrious appellations. They tore her one from another, and each new Tormenter was more savage than the former. They stifled with howls and execrations her shrill crimes for mercy; and dragged her through the Streets, spurning her, trampling her, and treating her with every species of cruelty which hate or vindictive fury could invent.”

Both Don Lorenzo and Mother St. Ursula are eager to overturn the corrupt authority of the tyrannical prioress; both seem to call for an uprising to free the populace from the control of corrupt religious authorities. However, The Monk portrays this moment of popular revolt as completely “barbarous” and grotesque. Madrid’s populace transforms, in the author’s language, into a thuggish gang of “Rioters,” motivated not by a desire for justice but by “hate” and “vindictive fury." As much as The Monk criticizes the corruption of powerful religious institutions, the novel portrays “the mob” as an even more terrifying entity; this horror reflects the cultural anxieties generated by the mob violence of the French Revolution.

“Scarcely had He succeeded in his design, than He shuddered at himself and the means by which it was effected. The very excess of his former eagerness to possess Antonia now contributed to inspire him with disgust; and a secret impulse made him feel, how base and unmanly was the crime, which He had just committed. He started hastily from her arms. She, who so lately had been the object of his adoration, now raised no other sentiment in his heart than aversion and rage.”

The author suggests that Ambrosio’s indulgence of his sexual desires will never lead to true satisfaction; in The Monk, sexual desire serves as its own punishment. Having finally possessed Antonia, Ambrosio is instantly overcome with regret and “disgust” at his actions. He projects this self-disgust onto Antonia, viewing her with the “aversion and rage” that he feels for himself and his “unmanly” behavior in raping Antonia. Rather than portraying Ambrosio as an unthinking monster, this passage offers psychological insight into the motivations and mental reactions of the sinner. This close attention to Ambrosio’s psychology throughout The Monk elevates the villainous Ambrosio to the status of a protagonist or antihero.

“The infernal Spirits obey me as their Sovereign: By their aid shall my days be past in every refinement of luxury and voluptuousness. I will enjoy unrestrained the gratification of my senses: Every passion shall be indulged, even to satiety; Then will I bid my Servants invent new pleasures, to revive and stimulate my glutted appetites! I go impatient to exercise my newly-gained dominion. I pant to be at liberty.”

In attempting to persuade Ambrosio to sign over his soul to Satan, Matilda strongly emphasizes how her deal with the devil has granted her power; she now commands a host of “infernal Spirits” who must obey her. While Matilda often employs the rhetoric of “liberty” in her attempts to persuade Ambrosio to join with Satan, this passage suggests that ultimately (like Ambrosio and the Prioress of St. Clare) what Matilda truly desires is power (or “dominion”) over others. The novel suggests that while Satan promises freedom, he instead reinstates tyranny.

“Lucifer stood before him a second time. But He came not, as when at Matilda’s summons He borrowed the Seraph’s form to deceive Ambrosio. He appeared in all that ugliness, which since his fall from heaven had been his portion: His blasted limbs still bore marks of the Almighty’s thunder: A swarthy darkness spread itself over his gigantic form: His hands and feet were armed with long Talons: Fury glared in his eyes, which might have struck the bravest heart with terror: Over his shoulders waved two enormous sable wings; and his hair was supplied by living snakes, which twined themselves round his brows with frightful hissings.”

The final scenes of The Monk continue the motif of “unveiling,” as deceptions are uncovered to reveal bitter truths. Satan previously appeared to Ambrosio as a beautiful youth (a “Seraph”); now that Ambrosio is in his power, Satan reveals his true, horrific form. The author employs animalistic imagery (“Talons,” “sable wings,” “living snakes”) typical of literary and artistic depictions of Satan. This mixture of human and animal qualities suggests Satan’s monstrous, unnatural nature as well as his moral degradation; he has fallen from the status of an angel to that of a beast.