The Monk: A Romance
on the Person who drinks it the exact image of Death. Let this be
administered to Antonia: You may easily find means to pour a few drops
into her medicine. The effect will be throwing her into strong
convulsions for an hour: After which her blood will gradually cease to
flow, and heart to beat; A mortal paleness will spread itself over her
features, and She will appear a Corse to every eye. She has no Friends
about her: You may charge yourself unsuspected with the superintendence
of her funeral, and cause her to be buried in the Vaults of St. Clare.
Their solitude and easy access render these Caverns favourable to your
designs. Give Antonia the soporific draught this Evening: Eight and
forty hours after She has drank it, Life will revive to her bosom. She
will then be absolutely in your power: She will find all resistance
unavailing, and necessity will compel her to receive you in her arms.”
“Antonia will be in my power!” exclaimed the Monk; “Matilda, you
transport me! At length then, happiness will be mine, and that
happiness will be Matilda’s gift, will be the gift of friendship!
I shall clasp Antonia in my arms, far from every prying eye, from every
tormenting Intruder! I shall sigh out my soul upon her bosom; Shall
teach her young heart the first rudiments of pleasure, and revel
uncontrouled in the endless variety of her charms! And shall this
delight indeed by mine? Shall I give the reins to my desires, and
gratify every wild tumultuous wish? Oh! Matilda, how can I express to
you my gratitude?”
“By profiting by my counsels. Ambrosio, I live but to serve you:
Your interest and happiness are equally mine. Be your person Antonia’s,
but to your friendship and your heart I still assert my claim.
Contributing to yours forms now my only pleasure. Should my exertions
procure the gratification of your wishes, I shall consider my trouble
to be amply repaid. But let us lose no time. The liquor of which I
spoke is only to be found in St. Clare’s Laboratory. Hasten then to the
Prioress; Request of her admission to the Laboratory, and it will not
be denied. There is a Closet at the lower end of the great Room, filled
with liquids of different colours and qualities. The Bottle in question
stands by itself upon the third shelf on the left. It contains a
greenish liquor: Fill a small phial with it when you are unobserved,
and Antonia is your own.”
The Monk hesitated not to adopt this infamous plan. His desires, but
too violent before, had acquired fresh vigour from the sight of
Antonia. As He sat by her bedside, accident had discovered to him some
of those charms which till then had been concealed from him: He found
them even more perfect, than his ardent imagination had pictured them.
Sometimes her white and polished arm was displayed in arranging the
pillow: Sometimes a sudden movement discovered part of her swelling
bosom: But whereever the new-found charm presented itself, there rested
the Friar’s gloting eyes. Scarcely could He master himself sufficiently
to conceal his desires from Antonia and her vigilant Duenna. Inflamed
by the remembrance of these beauties, He entered into Matilda’s scheme
without hesitation.
No sooner were Matins over than He bent his course towards the Convent
of St. Clare: His arrival threw the whole Sisterhood into the utmost
amazement. The Prioress was sensible of the honour done her Convent by
his paying it his first visit, and strove to express her gratitude by
every possible attention. He was paraded through the Garden, shown all
the reliques of Saints and Martyrs, and treated with as much respect
and distinction as had He been the Pope himself. On his part, Ambrosio
received the Domina’s civilities very graciously, and strove to remove
her surprize at his having broken through his resolution. He stated,
that among his penitents, illness prevented many from quitting their
Houses. These were exactly the People who most needed his advice and
the comforts of Religion: Many representations had been made to him
upon this account, and though highly repugnant to his own wishes, He
had found it absolutely necessary for the service of heaven to change
his determination, and quit his beloved retirement. The Prioress
applauded his zeal in his profession and his charity towards Mankind:
She declared that Madrid was happy in possessing a Man so perfect and
irreproachable. In such discourse, the Friar at length reached the
Laboratory. He found the Closet: The Bottle stood in the place which
Matilda had described, and the Monk seized an opportunity to fill his
phial unobserved with the soporific liquor. Then having partaken of a
Collation in the Refectory, He retired from the Convent pleased with
the success of his visit, and leaving the Nuns delighted by the honour
conferred upon them.
He waited till Evening before He took the road to Antonia’s dwelling.
Jacintha welcomed him with transport, and besought him not to forget
his promise to pass the night in the haunted Chamber: That promise He
now repeated. He found Antonia tolerably well, but still harping upon
the Ghost’s prediction. Flora moved not from her Lady’s Bed, and by
symptoms yet stronger than on the former night testified her dislike to
the Abbot’s presence. Still Ambrosio affected not to observe them. The
Physician arrived, while He was conversing with Antonia. It was dark
already; Lights were called for, and Flora was compelled to descend for
them herself. However, as She left a third Person in the room, and
expected to be absent but a few minutes, She believed that She risqued
nothing in quitting her post. No sooner had She left the room, than
Ambrosio moved towards the Table, on which stood Antonia’s medicine: It
was placed in a recess of the window. The Physician seated in an
armed-chair, and employed in questioning his Patient, paid no attention
to the proceedings of the Monk. Ambrosio seized the opportunity: He
drew out the fatal Phial, and let a few drops fall into the medicine.
He then hastily left the Table, and returned to the seat which He had
quitted. When Flora made her appearance with lights, every thing seemed
to be exactly as She had left it.
The Physician declared that Antonia might quit her chamber the next day
with perfect safety. He recommended her following the same prescription
which, on the night before, had procured her a refreshing sleep: Flora
replied that the draught stood ready upon the Table: He advised the
Patient to take it without delay, and then retired. Flora poured the
medicine into a Cup and presented it to her Mistress. At that moment
Ambrosio’s courage failed him. Might not Matilda have deceived him?
Might not Jealousy have persuaded her to destroy her Rival, and
substitute poison in the room of an opiate? This idea appeared so
reasonable that He was on the point of preventing her from swallowing
the medicine. His resolution was adopted too late: The Cup was already
emptied, and Antonia restored it into Flora’s hands. No remedy was now
to be found: Ambrosio could only expect the moment impatiently,
destined to decide upon Antonia’s life or death, upon his own happiness
or despair.
Dreading to create suspicion by his stay, or betray himself by his
mind’s agitation, He took leave of his Victim, and withdrew from the
room. Antonia parted from him with less cordiality than on the former
night. Flora had represented to her Mistress that to admit his visits
was to disobey her Mother’s orders: She described to her his emotion on
entering the room, and the fire which sparkled in his eyes while He
gazed upon her. This had escaped Antonia’s observation, but not her
Attendant’s; Who explaining the Monk’s designs and their probable
consequences in terms much clearer than Elvira’s, though not quite so
delicate, had succeeded in alarming her young Lady, and persuading her
to treat him more distantly than She had done hitherto. The idea of
obeying her Mother’s will at once determined Antonia. Though She
grieved at losing his society, She conquered herself sufficiently to
receive the Monk with some degree of reserve and coldness. She thanked
him with respect and gratitude for his former visits, but did not
invite his repeating them in future. It now was not the Friar’s
interest to solicit admission to her presence, and He took leave of her
as if not designing to return. Fully persuaded that the acquaintance
which She dreaded was now at an end, Flora was so much worked upon by
his easy compliance that She began to doubt the justice of her
suspicions. As She lighted him down Stairs, She thanked him for having
endeavoured to root out from Antonia’s mind her superstitious terrors
of the Spectre’s prediction: She added, that as He seemed interested in
Donna Antonia’s welfare, should any change take place in her situation,
She would be careful to let him know it. The Monk in replying took
pains to raise his voice, hoping that Jacintha would hear it. In this
He succeeded; As He reached the foot of the Stairs with his
Conductress, the Landlady failed not to make her appearance.
“Why surely you are not going away, reverend Father?” cried She; “Did
you not promise to pass the night in the haunted Chamber? Christ Jesus!
I shall be left alone with the Ghost, and a fine pickle I shall be in
by morning! Do all I could, say all I could, that obstinate old Brute,
Simon Gonzalez, refused to marry me today; And before tomorrow comes, I
suppose, I shall be torn to pieces, by the Ghosts, and Goblins, and
Devils, and what not! For God’s sake, your Holiness, do not leave me in
such a woeful condition! On my bended knees I beseech you to keep your
promise: Watch this night in the haunted chamber; Lay the Apparition in
the Red Sea, and Jacintha remembers you in her prayers to the last day
of her existence!”
This request Ambrosio expected and desired; Yet He affected to raise
objections, and to seem unwilling to keep his word. He told Jacintha
that the Ghost existed nowhere but in her own brain, and that her
insisting upon his staying all night in the House was ridiculous and
useless. Jacintha was obstinate: She was not to be convinced, and
pressed him so urgently not to leave her a prey to the Devil, that at
length He granted her request. All this show of resistance imposed not
upon Flora, who was naturally of a suspicious temper. She suspected the
Monk to be acting a part very contrary to his own inclinations, and
that He wished for no better than to remain where He was. She even went
so far as to believe that Jacintha was in his interest; and the poor
old Woman was immediately set down, as no better than a Procuress.
While She applauded herself for having penetrated into this plot
against her Lady’s honour, She resolved in secret to render it
fruitless.
“So then,” said She to the Abbot with a look half-satirical and half
indignant; “So then you mean to stay here tonight? Do so, in God’s
name! Nobody will prevent you. Sit up to watch for the Ghost’s arrival:
I shall sit up too, and the Lord grant that I may see nothing worse
than a Ghost! I quit not Donna Antonia’s Bedside during this blessed
night: Let me see any one dare to enter the room, and be He mortal or
immortal, be He Ghost, Devil, or Man, I warrant his repenting that ever
He crossed the threshold!”
This hint was sufficiently strong, and Ambrosio understood its meaning.
But instead of showing that He perceived her suspicions; He replied
mildly that He approved the Duenna’s precautions, and advised her to
persevere in her intention. This, She assured him faithfully that He
might depend upon her doing. Jacintha then conducted him into the
chamber where the Ghost had appeared, and Flora returned to her Lady’s.
Jacintha opened the door of the haunted room with a trembling hand: She