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The narrative returns to Don Lorenzo and Don Raymond, both grief-stricken and suspicious of the Prioress of St. Clare’s tale of Agnes’s death in childbirth. Don Lorenzo’s valet, Theodore, disguises himself as a beggar and street musician in order to insinuate himself with the nuns of St. Clare and gain more information about Agnes’s death. Delighted by his beauty and musical talent, the nuns invite Theodore into the abbey to perform. Hoping Agnes will hear his voice, he sings a ballad about a young woman tricked into marrying a “water-sprite” who drowns her. After his performance, one of the most respected of the nuns, Mother St. Ursula, slips Theodore a letter. Mother St. Ursula recognized Theodore as the servant of Agnes’s brother, Don Lorenzo, and the note informs Don Lorenzo that he must obtain an order of arrest for the Prioress of St. Clare and present it at the Festival of St. Clare. Mother St. Ursula promises to reveal the prioress’s crimes.
That night, Ambrosio employs the magic myrtle branch to enter Antonia’s home and bedchamber. He reflects that the crime is a dangerous one, but he believes that the people of Madrid are unlikely to believe the word of Antonia over the word of the city’s most famously virtuous monk. Ambrosio is moments away from assaulting the sleeping Antonia when Elvira enters the bedchamber; she vows to reveal Ambrosio’s hypocrisy and sinfulness to all of Madrid. Frantic at the prospect of losing his status and reputation, Ambrosio strangles Elvira. He leaves her corpse in Antonia’s room and flees to the monastery.
Horrified by his murder of Elvira, Ambrosio destroys the magic myrtle branch. However, he gradually convinces himself that—having already committed such a terrible sin—he must continue his pursuit of Antonia.
The discovery of her mother’s death plunges Antonia into grief and illness. At night, Antonia sees the ghost of her mother, who warns Antonia, “[T]hree days, and we meet again!” (246). Antonia’s landlady is terrified by the appearance of the ghost; she runs to the monastery and begs Ambrosio to return to the house and protect Antonia from the specter. Ambrosio seizes the opportunity and visits Antonia on her sick bed. Antonia, unaware that Ambrosio is her mother’s murderer, invites him to visit her again.
Learning of this opportunity, Matilda provides Ambrosio with an elixir composed of “certain herbs known to but a few, which brings on the Person who drinks it the exact image of Death” (254). Ambrosio will administer the elixir to Antonia, who will appear dead for three days before reviving. In the meantime, Antonia will have been buried in the crypt of St. Clare; when she wakes, she will be completely in Ambrosio’s power.
Ambrosio returns to Antonia’s house and administers the elixir; Antonia soon appears to die and is interred in one of the underground tombs of the Convent of St. Clare.
Disguise and misrecognition remain important motifs in these chapters, contributing to the novel’s ongoing critique of Religion, Power, and Hypocrisy as well as its exploration of Appearance Versus Reality. Disguise appears comedic in Theodore’s narrative; Theodore charms the nuns by assuming the role of a handsome beggar extravagantly grateful for the nun’s charity. This adventure points out the religious hypocrisy of the nuns, who are enthralled by a handsome face and happy to have their “vanity” appealed to. Theodore’s facility at disguise, “changing his shape every day” (218), serves as a comic foil to the serious—even tragic—ability of Ambrosio to maintain the façade of a holy man even as he grows more sinful. In Ambrosio’s narrative, religious hypocrisy is literally a matter of life and death, as his determination to maintain his public reputation for saintliness leads him to murder Elvira. This social status as a holy man leads to multiple instances of dramatic irony in these chapters, as Antonia welcomes her mother’s murderer into her home and her landlady seeks out Ambrosio to exorcise Elvira’s ghost. Even Ambrosio, however, is unaware of the deepest layer of misrecognition and tragic irony at play in these chapters: the inability of Elvira, Antonia, and Ambrosio himself to recognize one another as family members. The Monk portrays social relations as so distorted by deception and hypocrisy that its characters literally cannot recognize one another; the novel supports Elvira’s pessimistic view of society as “a world so base, perfidious, and depraved” that no one (217)—not even the “Idol” of Madrid—can be trusted.
This pervasive mood of pessimism and doom reflects the novel’s depiction of Human Frailty in the Face of Temptation and Ambrosio’s continuing fall from grace. The narrative of Ambrosio’s fall follows a clear structure: In Part 1, Ambrosio succumbs to sexual temptation; in Part 2, he commits the far more terrible crime of murder to conceal his sexual transgressions; and in Part 3, Ambrosio symbolically descends into hell itself when he rapes Antonia in the tombs of St. Clare, reaching his “lowest” point both literally and morally. As in many Christian narratives of a person’s “fall” from grace, evil possesses its own momentum. Once Ambrosio succumbs to temptation, the narrative suggests, he will continue to sin ever faster and more terribly. Indeed, Ambrosio’s murder of Elvira only makes him more determined to seduce Antonia, “as if the crimes into which his passion had seduced him, had only increased its violence” (237).
The Monk portrays not only sin in general but sexual desire in particular as momentously powerful and perverse; Antonia appears utterly doomed because, the narrative suggests, corrupt sexuality longs to destroy innocence. In another instance of tragic irony, it is Antonia’s purity that marks her out as Ambrosio’s victim. The narrative repeats again and again that Ambrosio is attracted to Antonia precisely because of her lack of sexual desire: “An air of enchanting innocence and candour pervaded her whole form; and there was a sort of modesty in her nakedness, which added fresh stings to the desires of the lustful Monk” (232). This attraction to sexual innocence suggests a gendered power dynamic in which men lust to dominate vulnerable women. Ambrosio appears obsessed with the idea that once Antonia is in the tombs of St. Clare, she will “be absolutely in his power” (232). This dynamic also reflects the novel’s repeated association of sexual desire with destruction and death: Ambrosio gives in to Matilda’s sexual demands as she hovers on the brink of death; Don Lorenzo’s elopement with Agnes leads to his “marriage” to a corpse; Ambrosio murders Elvira when she interrupts his attempt to rape Antonia; and Ambrosio agrees to poison Antonia—making her “the exact image of Death […] She will appear a Corse to every eye” (254)—to sexually assault her. Even as The Monk suggests that religious orders unjustly repress natural sexual desires, the novel still links Sexual Desire, Danger, and Deviance to one another.
These chapters also continue the novel’s motif of Dreams and Omens; Elvira’s ghost appears to warn Antonia that she will soon follow her into the afterlife. However, just as Antonia dismissed the fortuneteller’s prophecy earlier in the novel, Antonia ignores her mother’s ghost, convincing herself that she hallucinated her mother’s appearance. The Monk portrays religious hypocrisy as so pervasive—and religious leaders as so untrustworthy—that supernatural beings seem to offer an alternative source of higher truth outside the structures of organized religion. However, the novel’s characters seem unable to make use of these revelations, as these specters simply terrify them. Elvira’s ghost, wrapped in a white shroud, also recalls the Bleeding Nun. Like the Bleeding Nun, Ambrosio is a member of a religious order who commits murder in his pursuit of sexual pleasure; this ghostly appearance foreshadows not only Antonia’s but also Ambrosio’s ultimate demise.