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.