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Matthew LewisA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: This section references rape and incest.
The Monk insists that every person is vulnerable to temptation, and it strongly condemns those who fail to make allowances for human frailty in their judgments of others. Ambrosio breaks his vows of chastity in his sexual relationship with Matilda; however, the narrative suggests that sexual transgressions (though sinful) matter little in comparison to the sins of pride and hypocrisy—essentially, the sins of believing oneself to be (or portraying oneself as) above temptation.
When the narrative first reveals Ambrosio’s real and flawed character (in contrast to his public performance of saintliness), the author does not emphasize his lustfulness but instead depicts his prideful and confident belief in his unique ability to withstand temptation: “Have I not freed myself from the frailty of Mankind? Fear not, Ambrosio! Take confidence in the strength of your virtue, to whose failings you are superior; Reflect that you are exempted from Humanity’s defects” (33). Ambrosio’s confidence in his own virtue leads him to treat Agnes—who has sinned through her sexual relationship with Don Raymond—mercilessly, cruelly turning her over to the vicious prioress. Agnes responds by predicting that Ambrosio’s confidence in his own lack of “frailty” will lead to his downfall: “Insolent in your yet-unshaken virtue, you disdain the prayers of a Penitent […] Oh! then when you yield to impetuous passions […] Think upon your Cruelty! Think upon Agnes, and despair of pardon!” (39). In the narrative’s final scene, Satan confirms that it was indeed Ambrosio’s confidence in his “yet-unshaken virtue” that made him an attractive target for Satan’s manipulations: “And you it was who thought yourself proof against temptation, absolved from human frailties, and free from error and vice […] I long have marked you for my prey” (337). In The Monk, virtue almost invites its own destruction. As Don Lorenzo observes of Ambrosio, “His established reputation will mark him out to Seduction as an illustrious Victim” (18).
The novel portrays succumbing to temptation (or sin) as an inevitable facet of human existence; indeed, it evens suggests that demonic forces of “Seduction” specifically tempt humans to sin. Therefore, the novel advocates for mercy, and it reserves its harshest punishments for those who either refuse to admit their sins or to forgive the sins of others. Ambrosio, who committed the far greater sin of murder in order to preserve his reputation for chastity, dies “blind, maimed, helpless, and despairing” (339), and the hard-hearted prioress—prepared to starve Agnes to death as punishment for her pregnancy—is torn to pieces by a vengeful mob. The novel suggests that rather than attempting to deny his sinfulness and human frailty, Ambrosio should have humbled himself and abandoned his pretension to live as a “Saint.”
The Monk criticizes powerful religious institutions as worldly and thus hypocritical. Although the time period in which the narrative takes place is unclear, Lewis specifically sets his novel in Madrid, Spain, where the Catholic Church historically played an influential role in both government and society. Lewis does not suggest that the religious authorities portrayed in The Monk are hypocritical because their religious beliefs are insincere; rather, he suggests that these authorities are hypocritical because they are far more concerned with maintaining their public power, influence, and fame than they are with leading a holy life. While monasteries and convents present themselves as places of retreat from a sinful secular world, The Monk emphasizes the ways in which these religious orders are deeply intertwined with the secular world—a common Protestant criticism of Catholicism given the Catholic Church’s wealth and perceived emphasis on materialism broadly (e.g., the use of religious icons).
The most striking example of this hypocrisy in the novel is the character of the Prioress of St. Clare. The head of the Convent of St. Clare, the prioress seeks social status and fame above all else, assiduously recruiting beautiful noblewomen to join her order: “She leaves no means untried to persuade young Women of rank to become members of her Community” (169). The prioress punishes Agnes so harshly not simply because she broke her vows of chastity but because Agnes encouraged other noblewomen to reject convent life. The Monk suggests that convents collaborate with noble families in imprisoning young women and that the power granted to the leaders of religious orders leads to religious institutions full of “the low jealousies, the petty intrigues, the servile court and gross flattery expected by the Superior” (305).
Although Ambrosio (the head of his monastic order) initially seems far less cruel than the prioress, he shares her concern with worldly fame and reputation. While the populace admires Ambrosio for his strict isolation from secular life, Ambrosio values his public reputation for saintliness more than his own soul: “[H]e shuddered at reflecting, that a trifling indiscretion on his part […] would overturn that fabric of reputation which it had cost him thirty years to erect, and render him the abhorrence of that People of whom He was then the Idol” (175).
The Monk suggests that when religious institutions and leaders are granted so much public reverence and social influence (the populace, after all, treats Ambrosio as an “Idol”—a loaded word that frames him as the object of inappropriate religious veneration), hypocrisy flourishes, as maintaining power depends on cultivating an appearance of “exterior sanctity” regardless of one’s real character. While The Monk is careful not to reject Christianity itself (for example, Matilda, who encourages Ambrosio to abandon his faith, is eventually revealed to be a demon), the novel suggests that power and fame inevitably corrupt religious leaders and institutions.
The Monk depicts a world in which characters constantly struggle to distinguish between appearance and reality. This difficulty reflects the novel’s concern with moral and religious hypocrisy. The narrative suggests that those who appear virtuous (such as Ambrosio and the prioress) may, in fact, be sinful. However, the novel goes even further, suggesting that evil is most likely to assume attractive forms. The novel implies that while we tend to imagine evil and sin in monstrous terms—as when Don Lorenzo dreams of a hideous “Monster” pursuing the beautiful Antonia—evil more often assumes a beautiful façade: “Vice is ever more dangerous when lurking behind the Mask of Virtue” (66). The beautiful Matilda turns out to be a demon sent by Satan to destroy Ambrosio, and Satan himself first appears before Ambrosio as “a Figure more beautiful, than Fancy’s pencil ever drew […] the perfection of whose form and face was unrivalled” (213).
In a world in which evil enchants and seduces, characters can hardly trust the evidence of their senses or even their own judgment. Don Raymond, for example, mistakes a robber who plans to murder him for a kindly host while dismissing his virtuous wife as a “madwoman.” Characters frequently assume disguises (Matilda as “Rosario,” Don Raymond as “Alphonso d’Alvarada,” Theodore as a beggar) and just as frequently fail to recognize one another; Don Raymond elopes with the ghost of the Bleeding Nun instead of with Agnes, and Don Lorenzo does not recognize the woman in the dungeon as his own sister. Most tragically, Ambrosio, Antonia, and Elvira all fail to recognize one another as family members. Ignorant of her child’s fate, Elvira has no idea that she is confronting her own son. The Monk portrays society as characterized by pervasive hypocrisy, deception, and secrecy; thus, a mood of confusion, uncertainty, and suspicion permeates the narrative.
The novel reinforces this atmosphere of deception and doubt in its descriptions of the “subterraneous” vaults beneath the Convent of St. Clare (209). More than a simple burial ground, these vaults and passageways suggest a dark reality lying just beneath the surface of society. These passages create a terrifying “Labyrinth” and “deep abyss” that characters must navigate in “total darkness.” The Monk inspires terror in its characters (and readers) by portraying a world in which appearance and reality no longer correspond to one another and individuals struggle to make sense of an unpredictable world.
Sexuality plays a complex role in The Monk; the novel simultaneously portrays sexual desire as a natural and inevitable part of life and as a dangerous force of degradation and destruction. The narrator of The Monk emphasizes the idea that very few people can resist sexual temptation and suggests that sexual transgressions represent mild sins in comparison to more serious sins such as hypocrisy. The narrator argues that Ambrosio’s greatest sin is not his sexual relationship with Matilda but his hypocritical desire to maintain his chaste reputation: “He had fallen into […] errors from yielding to seduction almost irresistible; But he was now guilty of a voluntary fault by endeavouring to conceal those [errors]” (174). In addition, the narrative does not blame Agnes for breaking her vows and becoming pregnant with Don Raymond’s child; Agnes ends the narrative “happy” and married to the man she loves.
The novel also criticizes Catholic religious orders for over-emphasizing the importance of sexual chastity while ignoring the dangers posed by other sins. The narrator partially blames Ambrosio’s downfall on the education he received from the Capuchin monks, which emphasized the “torments” that would befall the unchaste while allowing Ambrosio “to be proud, vain, ambitious, and disdainful” (182). Indeed, Ambrosio is so panicked at the prospect of his sexual transgressions coming to light that he commits murder to prevent it. The novel further implies that the sexual repression demanded by religious orders only results in stronger and more deviant sexual desires: “[Ambrosio’s] long Fast had only given a keener edge to his appetite” (173). This critique may partly reflect the Protestant sensibilities of its writer and readership. Unlike the Catholic Church, the Church of England does not require celibacy of its clergy.
Even as it criticizes the sexual abstinence demanded by religious orders, however, The Monk undoubtedly portrays sexuality as a dangerous and destructive force. The novel’s treatment of cross-class relationships, for example, is a testament to both the power of sexual desire and its potential to destabilize society. While characters repeatedly experience attraction across boundaries of rank and status, such relationships end disastrously, suggesting that sexuality must be contained within socially sanctioned channels (i.e., those that do not upset traditional hierarchies). More sensationally, Satan engineers Ambrosio’s downfall by sending a demon (Matilda) to inflame Ambrosio’s sexual passions; for Ambrosio, the simple gratification of lust leads to hypocrisy, murder, sorcery, rape, and death. Sexual desire proves even more dangerous for the female characters of The Monk, suggesting a double standard in which women’s sexuality is punished far more harshly than men’s. Although Agnes’s story ends happily, her sexual transgression with Don Raymond leads to her imprisonment and torture. Furthermore, the novel portrays women who openly express sexual desire as “disgusting” and even “demonic.” Matilda, who begs Ambrosio to relieve her “torments of unsatisfied desire” by making love to her (70), soon appears repulsive to Ambrosio because of the “manly” strength of her passions. The figure of the “Bleeding Nun” provides an even more horrifying and repulsive image of a “depraved,” sexually licentious woman.
Even women who do not express sexual desire find themselves destroyed by it in The Monk. The novel portrays sexual desire as so powerful and perverse that even Antonia—a young girl so innocent that she initially cannot tell the difference between men and women—falls victim to it, raped and then stabbed to death by Ambrosio. Antonia’s innocence provides her with no defense against sexual violence; ironically, her ignorance of sexuality simply makes her easier prey for Ambrosio, as she fails to recognize his advances. The Monk portrays sexual desire as both inevitable and destructive, easy to succumb to yet associated with deadly and demonic forces.