Blog post September 21st

In “The Monk” it made perfect sense that Matilda was a daemon, sent from hell, charged with ruining Ambrosio. After the monk spurred Matilda for his lover it made no sense that she wish to be his friend or help him rape an innocent young girl. As the end of the book approached it seemed more and more likely that Matilda had some sort of plan for exacting her revenge on Ambrosio, or failing that, had indeed been out to corrupt his conscious from the very beginning. But I hadn’t even entertained the possibility Matilda was inhuman. Matilda’s motives in getting close to Ambrosio, seducing him, convincing him to defile another human being, and to sell his eternal soul were all believable once it was revealed that she was an agent of Satan. On page 375 Satan gloats, “I bade a subordinate but crafty spirit assume a similar form, and you eagerly yielded to the blandishments of Matilda.”I think that unlike the mistaking of the Bloody Nun for Agnes in Germany, or Ambrosio’s true identity, this plot twist was the most satisfying and unforeseeable.

Throughout the novel, whenever a character became depressed or melancholy, they seemed to suffer from not only mental distress, but physical maladies as well. I noticed this connection between ill temper and ill health first when Raymond fell deathly ill after hearing of Agnes’ death. I was surprised that a young strong knight would be reduced to a wreck after the supposed death of his beloved. In fact while Lorenzo busied himself with seizing his sister’s assassins and Theodore did all the work in uncovering information, Raymond was more or less useless. Unlike his haunting by the Bloody Nun, his illness stemmed from depression rather nightmare inducing spooks.
Later in the book Antonia falls ill after her mother’s death, which was more believable to me, and I saw a pattern of characters being psychosomatic. Any time a character felt sad enough they were reduced to a shadow of their former selves, struggling to overcome the deathly ennui. Finally Lorenzo becomes afflicted with the strange malady, after witnessing Antonia die in his arms. I don’t think it unreasonable for the characters to be sad, or the level or their sadness, but when at least three characters are bed-ridden by their emotions it is a problem.

Another psychological problem of most of the book’s cast was that of constant fits of hysterics. Agnes is first in line on page 45 with this tantrum, “wild and desperate, she threw herself upon the ground, beating her bosom and rending her veil in all the delirium of despair.” Agnes was by no means the last, Ambrosio, Lorenzo, Raymond all receive their time exhibiting their self-loathing as well. I am reminded by a friend or two who have acted similarly to Agnes or Raymond, who beat their bosoms and fall into unhealthy stupors when life hands them lemons.

I thought it was peculiar how Lorenzo acted during the riot at the church. When the mob broke into the cloister and attacked any nuns they could lay hands on, Lorenzo was fascinated by a figure running away. After chasing the figure into the catacombs he then endeavors to find the source of the strange moaning. Never before had Lorenzo shown any capacity of curiosity. The author seemed to provide suspect reasoning for characters motives or actions often, as if he understood that all the coincidences in his narrative were as unbelievable as the ghosts. When Raymond was trying to escape the house of the bandits, he pretended to become unconscious after an attempt was made to drug him. Rather then shoot him then and there the father of the household explained in detail why he was not going to shoot him then to his sons. After that he went to a cupboard to retrieve a knife and in that time Raymond was able to gain the upper hand. I ended up enjoying this style of the author, the outlandish occurrences and the convoluted reasoning that allowed the story to progress, as it should. It reminded me of a soap opera, which normally I detest.

After reading the first 192 pages of The Monk, I think that the story is much more romantic then it is gothic. Every main character has romantic issues that motivate them and progress the plot. Rosario/Matilda and Ambrosio, Lorenzo and Antonia, Leonella and Don Christoval, Rodolpha and Raymond, Raymond and Agnes, Beatrice and Otto, Marguerite and her Bandit Husbands, as well as the previous generation of Spanish gentry. Unrequited love and plans to abscond to distant lands seem to be commonplace in the novel, and I was reminded of modern day’s soap operas.
When Raymond and Rodolpha are reading together Raymond attempts to confess his love for Agnes. After Raymond says he loves someone Rodolpha replies, “Suppose I were to spare you that confession? Suppose I were to acknowledge that the object of your desires is not unknown to me? Suppose I were to say, that she returns your affection, and laments not less sincerely than yourself the unhappy vows which separate her from you?”(119) Of course she is referring to herself and not Agnes. Romantic misunderstanding ensues with disastrous results.
Only upon closer reading did I discover the gothic aspect to the text. The rotting castles, which served as prisons to damsels in distress, eerie woods occupied by bandits, dark churches ringing with accusations of sin and debauchery. The locations were not always overbearing and haunting, but the climaxes seemed to gravitate towards these settings.
Throughout The Monk the loves that presented themselves were more often then not opposed and seemingly impossible. The love of the characters simply could not be the least bit reasonable or tempered. Matilda loves Ambrosio, who is already a monk of great reputation and has made vows to never be with a woman. Lorenzo is stonewalled by Elvira and asked to never see Antonia again until Raymond accepts Antonia as a part of his family. Lindenburg loves Raymond despite her current marriage to the baron. Marguerite leaves her family to live with her lover, who is a marauding bandit. In fact the characters’ passions seem to go out of their way to convolute the lives around them.
I also noticed a theme of sexless ness that affects several of the characters. When Matilda first tells Ambrosio of her love for him, she promises not to act on her impulses and remain his friend and confidant. She tells Ambrosio that her love has only the noblest intensions and that she will make no move to try to seduce him. Lorenzo makes similar promises to Elvira about his love for Antonia and commits himself to her, professing that he will honor her and that it is not youthful lust that guides his actions. Even the imagined love between Leonella and Don Christoval takes great lengths to remain virtuous in nature.
I enjoyed how the novel took time to establish the supernatural element. The first instance of witchery is the prophecy of the gipsy, which states, “That destruction o’er you hovers; Lustful man and crafty devil will combine to work your evil; And from earth by sorrows driven, soon your soul must speed to heaven”(37). Antonia does not take these words very seriously and soon forgets her imminent prophesized death. Much later the superstitions of the Medina household appear to be baseless and outdated. Later the story of the Bloody Nun is joked about and used as a part of Agnes’ escape plan. But all too quickly the reader is confronted with the reality of the Bloody Nun and the wandering Jew. While the logical Raymond remains incredulous of the events transpiring around him, they still affect him and confirm themselves to be true. What I found interesting is that both the supernatural and the Christian religion are depicted as true in this novel, and that one was usually the other.
What struck me most profoundly was all the kidnappings that took place in the book. Cunegonda is kidnapped for days so that she does not reveal Agnes’ plan for escape and soon after Theodore is kidnapped in turn so that he couldn’t reveal the lies to Agnes about Raymond for what they were. Also a gardener was kidnapped so that Lorenzo and Raymond could get his keys to the nunnery. All these kidnappings seem to be taken in good humor because nothing seems to come of them. Maybe kidnapping didn’t have the nasty stigma it has today back then.
Finally; why, why, why is the word bosom used so often? Is it just me?