Graduate Work

Gothic Infections (essay assignment #2)
By Scott Hays

The Discussion of Literature
As a Way to Convey Parody
Within the Gothic Novel The Monk

Despite the controversy surrounding the release of Matthew Lewis’ novel The Monk in 1796—that it was blasphemous, immoral, lewd, and indecent for public consumption—the author still managed to convey a sense of parody (and/or irony) within the sublime environment of his Gothic novel by having his characters engage in conversation (or interior monologue) about issues related to writing and literature—such as poetry, censorship, and the thorny relationship between writer and critic.

For openers, it should be noted that while The Monk adheres to several identifiable conventions of 18th century Gothic literature—antiquated spaces, supernatural occurrences, imperiled heroines, ruthless villains, etc.—it breaks form by failing to "instruct in the ways of virtue rather than vice," writes Emma McEvoy in her introduction to the Oxford World’s Classics version of The Monk (Monk, pg. vii). The book also flouts convention by what this writer sees as the most wonton disregard for restraint—there are hints of rape, murder, incest, necrophilia, villainous monks and nuns, and a lot worse; it’s as if the author’s sole intent was to provoke no other reaction than disgust or some other negative emotion. As a result, there apparently existed a battleground surrounding The Monk between critics and author. Some critics even claimed the book threatened to "corrupt youth" because of its supposed hostility or indifference to religion (Monk, pg. viii). Subsequent editions were altered, or specific passages were deleted, which ironically only fueled public interest in the book.

Lewis seems to respond to these criticisms within the context of The Monk, which ultimately takes a careful reader out of the horror of the story and into the mind of its author. Consider Volume II, Chapter I, the History of Don Raymond, who has just returned from declaring his love for Agnes to her brother Lorenzo. This particular section clearly adheres to the conventions of Gothic Literature: secrets from the past, religious figures, an imperiled heroine, a near-death experience, even supernatural occurrences (a ghostly Bleeding Nun and ghostly Wandering Jew).

And then, as is from out of nowhere, the author intrudes into the scene by including an exchange between Don Raymond and his attendant, the young Theodore, who is in the process of composing verse. Like most young writers, Theodore is insecure with the quality of his own writing, and is reluctant to share his poem with his lord. Even so, Don Raymond reads the verse titled Love and Age, and then returns the paper with a "smile of encouragement" and offers the following comment to his young attendant:

"An Author, whether good or bad, or between both, is an Animal whom every body is privileged to attack; For though All are not able to write books, all conceive themselves able to judge them. A bad composition carries with it its own punishment, contempt and ridicule. A good one excites envy, and entails upon its author a thousand mortifications. He finds himself assailed by partial and ill-humoured Criticism; One Man finds fault with the plan, Another with the style, a Third with the precept, which it strives to inculcate; and they who cannot succeed in finding fault with the Book, employ themselves in stigmatizing its Author"
(Monk, pgs. 198-199).

Doubtless, the above passage is intended as a reprimand of the critics who almost certainly censured the author’s life as a writer, and his writing. It clearly doesn’t advance the storyline, and one could argue that it inadvertently serves more as a detraction from the supremely sublime nature of the book itself. Moreover, Lewis continues his denunciation for another several pages. Says Don Raymond: "In short to entire the lists of literature is willfully to expose yourself to the arrows of neglect, ridicule, envy, and disappointment. Whether you write well or ill, be assured that you will not escape from blame" (Monk, pg. 199). Ironically, Don Raymond then goes on to assail the young poet’s verse with ill-humoured criticism—confusing metaphors, borrowed ideas, and verses that only seem introduced in order to rhyme.

One of the purposes of parody is to ridicule the work itself, the subject of the work, or in some cases the subject of the parody. Here in The Monk, readers are not only subjected to the excessive Gothic horror of the book itself, but also to the excessive use of parody. Clearly, it’s intentional. And depending on one’s point of view, this particular technique can either be annoying or engaging. McEvoy in her introduction to the Oxford World’s Classics version of The Monk believes the "Gothic tones easily give way to comedy," and that the bizarre sense of humor is one of the book’s most "surprising aspects and must have disturbed many of its early readers" (Monk, pg. xxviii).

What then should readers make of this next passage? In Volume II, Chapter IV, the villainous Monk Ambrosio has already set his perverted designs on the young and virtuous Antonia, whose mother Elvira sleeps in an adjacent room. As Antonia prattles on in her usual "ease and vivacity," Ambrosio examines the book she had been reading, and had now placed upon the table. It was the Bible. Here then comes yet another opportunity for Lewis to convey a sense of parody (and/or irony) within the sublime environment of his Gothic novel by having Ambrosio engage in conversation (or in this case, interior monologue) about issues related to writing and literature.

Ambrosio inspects the book and discovers that Antonia’s prudent mother Elvira had copied out with her own hand excerpts from the Bible, with all improper passages either altered or omitted. Ambosio then muses about the meaning of this censored version of the sacred text, and how many of the narratives in the Bible can only tend to "excite ideas the worst calculated for a female breast" (Monk, pg. 259). Of course, the parodies here are several: (1) the young and virtuous Antonia is reading the Bible just as her most revered living religious figure, The Monk Ambrosio, attempts to seduce her; (2) the Bible, Lewis seems to be saying, is a source of indecent expressions (for which Lewis himself was criticized); and (3) the censoring of the Bible seems to parallel in some perverted way the censoring of The Monk.

"Yet this is the book, which young women are recommended to study; which is put into the hands of Children, able to comprehend little more than those passages of which they had better remain
ignorant; and which but to frequently inculcates the first rudiments of vice, and gives the first alarm to the still sleeping passions"
(Monk, pg. 259.)

Lewis even goes on to suggest that the "lewd exploits" and "lascivious jokes" of various writings—for example, Amadis de Gaul, a late 14th-century romance novel that favored the causes of gallantry and knightly perfection—are indeed less provocative than the Bible itself. McEvoy in her introduction to the Oxford World’s Classics version of The Monk suggests the passage makes "deliberately outrageous comparisons which mock the pious tones of Elvira, and the pomposities of overseers of education, prurient matrons, and critics who express horror at the decadence of romances." And that in the eyes of many, the passage was a "statement of an irreligious Lewis," and a serious case of blasphemy (Monk, viii)

Nonetheless, author intrusions like these employed by Lewis—even if only to convey a sense of parody (and/or irony)—often tend to distract a reader from the central design of the story. Instead of being permitted to react to the horrifying images presented in The Monk, the reader is forced to share the author’s musings on such issues as censorship and the thorny relationship between writer and critic. Take, for example, the most egregious example of author intrusion, the passage mentioned above between Ambrosio and Antonia. Here in one disturbing scene is a highly-respected man of religion who attempts to seduce a prepubescent girl, while her unwell mother sleeps in an adjacent room. It’s a creepy scene that essentially sets the tone for the remainder of the book; yet the side reflection by Ambrosio about Bible censoring (Lewis’ attempt to denounce yet again his critics) serves only to remind readers that they are, well, reading.

All criticism aside, though, apparently the public reacted favorable to The Monk—four separate editions, a play adaptation, several films—which seems to illustrate the fine line between horror and fascination, and the attractiveness of condemnation, writes McEvoy. Clearly, the author’s attempts to convey a sense of parody (and/or irony) within the sublime environment of his Gothic novel didn’t distract his readers from reading his book. And that perhaps is part of the charm of The Monk—it seems to be "always actively transforming itself," adds McEvoy, and alluding to other genres "only to transgress their limits" (Monk, pgs. xxvi-xxvii).

WORKS CITED
Jones, Wendy. "Stories of Desire in The Monk". English Literary History, Vol. 57, No. 1
(Spring, 1990), pgs. 129-150.
Lewis, Matthew. The Monk. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995.
Mudge, Bradford K. "The Man with Two Brains: Gothic Novels, Popular Culture, Literary History". Publication of the Modern Language, Vol. 107, No. 1 (Jan., 1992), pgs. 92-104.

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