The Monk quotes

Whatever was the occasion, it is at least certain that the Capuchin church had never witnessed a more numerous assembly. Every corner was filled, every seat was occupied. The very statues which ornamented the long aisles were pressed into the service.

Boys suspended themselves upon the wings of cherubims; St. Francis and St. Mark bore each a spectator on his shoulders; and St. Agatha found herself under the necessity of carrying double.

The consequence was, that in spite of all their hurry and expedition, our two newcomers, on entering the church, looked round in vain for places.

Both were young, and richly habited. Hearing this appeal to their politeness pronounced in a female voice, they interrupted their conversation to look at the speaker. She had thrown up her veil in order to take a clearer look round the cathedral.

Her hair was red, and she squinted.

The cavaliers turned round, and renewed their conversation.

and he is reported to be so strict an observer of chastity, that he knows not in what consists the difference of man and woman. The common people therefore esteem him to be a saint.”

“Does that make a saint?” enquired Antonia; “Bless me! Then am I one?”

“Holy St. Barbara!” exclaimed Leonella; “What a question! Fie, child, fie! These are not fit subjects for young women to handle.

It was seized eagerly, and immediately divided amidst the spectators. Whoever became possessor of a bead, preserved it as a sacred relic; and had it been the chaplet of thrice-blessed St. Francis himself, it could not have been disputed with greater vivacity.

The abbot, smiling at their eagerness, pronounced his benediction, and quitted the church, while humility dwelt upon every feature. Dwelt she also in his heart?

Antonia’s eyes followed him with anxiety. As the door closed after him, it seemed to her as had she lost someone essential to her happiness. A tear stole in silence down her cheek.

He looked curiously round, and soon descried a man wrapped up in his cloak, who seemed carefully examining whether his actions were observed.

Very few people are exempt from the influence of curiosity.

The unknown seemed anxious to conceal his business in the cathedral, and it was this very circumstance, which made Lorenzo wish to discover what he was about.

Our hero was conscious that he had no right to pry into the secrets of this unknown cavalier.

“I will go,” said Lorenzo. And Lorenzo stayed, where he was.

The shadow thrown by the column, effectually concealed him from the stranger, who continued to advance with caution. At length he drew a letter from beneath his cloak, and hastily placed it beneath a colossal statue of St. Francis.

“So!” said Lorenzo to himself; “This is only some foolish love affair. I believe, I may as well be gone, for I can do no good in it.”

In truth till that moment it never came into his head that he could do any good in it; but he thought it necessary to make some little excuse to himself for having indulged his curiosity.

He now made a second attempt to retire from the church: for this time he gained the porch without meeting with any impediment; but it was destined that he should pay it another visit that night.

Now Antonia had observed the air, with which Don Christoval had kissed this same hand; but as she drew conclusions from it somewhat different from her aunt’s, she was wise enough to hold her tongue.

As this is the only instance known of a woman’s ever having done so, it was judged worthy to be recorded here.

The old lady continued her discourse to Antonia in the same strain, till they gained the street in which was their lodging. Here a crowd collected before their door permitted them not to approach it;

Insolent in your yet-unshaken virtue, you disdained the prayers of a penitent; but God will show mercy, though you show none. And where is the merit of your boasted virtue? What temptations have you vanquished?

Coward! you have fled from it, not opposed seduction.

But the day of trial will arrive! Oh! then when you yield to impetuous passions! when you feel that man is weak, and born to err; when shuddering you look back upon your crimes, and solicit with terror the mercy of your God, oh!

Her alarm was ungrounded.

None sleep so profoundly, as those who are determined not to wake.

The friar was in this predicament: he still seemed buried in a repose, which every succeeding minute rendered him less capable of enjoying. The burning tear had communicated its warmth to his heart.

“Yes,” said he; “The unfortunate shall stay; I have nothing to fear from her presence. Even should my own prove too weak to resist the temptation, I am secured from danger by the innocence of Matilda.”

Ambrosio was yet to learn, that to an heart unacquainted with her, vice is ever most dangerous when lurking behind the mask of virtue.

He found himself so perfectly recovered, that when Father Pablos visited him again at night, he entreated permission to quit his chamber on the day following. His request was granted.

“It is surprising that in all the chronicles of past times, this remarkable personage is never once mentioned.

Fain would I recount to you her life; but unluckily till after her death she was never known to have existed.

Then first did she think it necessary to make some noise in the world, and with that intention she made bold to seize upon the castle of Lindenberg. Having a good taste, she took up her abode in the best room of the house:

Having a good taste, she took up her abode in the best room of the house: and once established there, she began to amuse herself by knocking about the tables and chairs in the middle of the night.

Perhaps she was a bad sleeper, but this I have never been able to ascertain.

According to the tradition, this entertainment commenced about a century ago. It was accompanied with shrieking, howling, groaning, swearing, and many other agreeable noises of the same kind.

“

To heaven, I hope; but if she does, the place certainly is not to her taste, for she always returns after an hour’s absence.

The lady then retires to her chamber, and is quiet for another five years.”

He obeyed my instructions punctually: the equipage arrived at the time appointed. As the period of her lady’s elopement drew nearer, Cunegonda’s rage increased.

I verily believe that spite and passion would have killed her, had I not luckily discovered her prepossession in favour of cherry brandy.

With this favourite liquor she was plentifully supplied, and Theodore always remaining to guard her, the gag was occasionally removed. The liquor seemed to have a wonderful effect in softening the acrimony of her nature;

Fate obliges me to be constantly in movement: I am not permitted to pass more than a fortnight in the same place. I have no friend in the world, and from the restlessness of my destiny I never can acquire one.

Fain would I lay down my miserable life, for I envy those who enjoy the quiet of the grave: but death eludes me, and flies from my embrace.

In vain do I throw myself in the way of danger. I plunge into the ocean; the waves throw me back with abhorrence upon the shore: I rush into fire; the flames recoil at my approach: I oppose myself to the fury of banditti;

I rush into fire; the flames recoil at my approach: I oppose myself to the fury of banditti; their swords become blunted, and break against my breast: the hungry tiger shudders at my approach, and the alligator flies from a monster more horrible than itself.

God has set his seal upon me, and all his creatures respect this fatal mark!

”

No sooner was she out of sight, than I quitted my concealment. Fearing to alarm my lovely mistress, I drew near her gently, intending to discover myself by degrees.

But who for a moment can deceive the eyes of love?

She raised her head at my approach, and recognised me in spite of my disguise at a single glance. She rose hastily from her seat with an exclamation of surprise, and attempted to retire; but I followed her, detained her, and entreated to be heard.

They maliciously rake out from obscurity every little circumstance which may throw ridicule upon his private character or conduct, and aim at wounding the man, since they cannot hurt the writer.

In short, to enter the lists of literature is wilfully 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; indeed this circumstance contains a young author’s chief consolation:

he remembers that Lope de Vega and Calderona had unjust and envious critics, and he modestly conceives himself to be exactly in their predicament. But I am conscious that all these sage observations are thrown away upon you.

Authorship is a mania to conquer which no reasons are sufficiently strong; and you might as easily persuade me not to love, as I persuade you not to write.

However, if you cannot help being occasionally seized with a poetical paroxysm, take at least the precaution of communicating your verses to none but those whose partiality for you secures their approbation.”

those six produced so unlucky an effect that I am fully resolved never to compose another. But I wander from my subject. I was going to say that you cannot employ your time worse than in making verses.

An author, whether good or bad, or between both, is an animal whom everybody 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:

Should you see the Condé d’Ossorio, tell him … I blush while I declare it … Tell him that his presence will be but too acceptable to the sympathetic

The latter sentences were written in red ink, to express the blushes of her cheek, while she committed an outrage upon her virgin modesty.

Lorenzo had no sooner perused this note than he set out in search of Don Christoval. Not being able to find him in the course of the day, he proceeded to Donna Elvira’s alone, to Leonella’s infinite disappointment.

Impatience would not permit her waiting for an explanation: interrupting Lorenzo, who was delivering Raymond’s message, she desired to know what was become of his friend.

He, who thought it necessary to maintain himself in her good graces, strove to console her under her disappointment by committing a little violence upon truth.

“Ah! Señora,” he replied in a melancholy voice, “how grieved will he be at losing this opportunity of paying you his respects! A relation’s illness has obliged him to quit Madrid in haste:

Antonia subscribed to everything without hesitation, though not without regret. Her mother kissed her affectionately, and retired to bed.

Antonia followed her example, and vowed so frequently never more to think of Lorenzo, that till sleep closed her eyes she thought of nothing else.

While this was passing at Elvira’s, Lorenzo hastened to rejoin the Marquis. Everything was ready for the second elopement of Agnes; and at twelve the two friends with a coach and four were at the garden wall of the convent.

Have I not shared in your guilt? Have you not shared in my pleasure? Guilt, did I say? In what consists ours, unless in the opinion of an ill-judging world? Let that world be ignorant of them, and our joys become divine and blameless!

Unnatural were your vows of celibacy; man was not created for such a state; and were love a crime, God never would have made it so sweet, so irresistible!

Then banish those clouds from your brow, my Ambrosio! Indulge in those pleasures freely, without which life is a worthless gift: cease to reproach me with having taught you what is bliss, and feel equal transports with the woman who adores you!”

his warm constitution still made him seek in her arms the gratification of his lust: but when the moment of passion was over, he quitted her with disgust, and his humour, naturally inconstant, made him sigh impatiently for variety.

Possession, which cloys man, only increases the affection of woman.

Matilda with every succeeding day grew more attached to the friar. Since he had obtained her favours, he was become dearer to her than ever, and she felt grateful to him for the pleasures in which they had equally been sharers.

Again he paced his chamber hastily. Then stopping, his eye fell upon the picture of his once-admired Madonna. He tore it with indignation from the wall: he threw it on the ground, and spurned it from him with his foot.

Unfortunate Matilda! Her paramour forgot that for his sake alone she had forfeited her claim to virtue; and his only reason for despising her was that she had loved him much too well.

He threw himself into a chair which stood near the table. He saw the card with Elvira’s address. He took it up, and it brought to his recollection his promise respecting a confessor. He passed a few minutes in doubt:

She replied with diffidence, but without restraint: she feared not to relate to him all her little sorrows, all her little fears and anxieties; and she thanked him for his goodness with all the genuine warmth which favours kindle in a young and innocent heart.

Such alone know how to estimate benefits at their full value.

They who are conscious of mankind’s perfidy and selfishness, ever receive an obligation with apprehension and distrust: they suspect that some secret motive must lurk behind it:

“Stay, stay! Now I recollect how it was. He was put into the abbey quite a child; the common people say that he fell from heaven, and was sent as a present to the Capuchins by the Virgin.”

“That was very kind of her. And so he fell from heaven, Antonia? He must have had a terrible tumble.”

“Many do not credit this, and I fancy, my dear mother, that I must number you among the unbelievers.

Having finished her usual devotions, Antonia retired to bed.

Sleep soon stole over her senses; and for several hours she enjoyed that calm repose which innocence alone can know, and for which many a monarch with pleasure would exchange his crown.

“

To them who dare nothing is impossible.

Rely upon me, and you may yet be happy. The time is come, Ambrosio, when regard for your comfort and tranquillity compels me to reveal a part of my history, with which you are still unacquainted. Listen, and do not interrupt me:

Will the seraphims protect it, conduct Antonia to your arms, and sanction with their ministry your illicit pleasures? Absurd! But I am not deceived, Ambrosio! It is not virtue which makes you reject my offer: you would accept it, but you dare not.

’Tis not the crime which holds your hand, but the punishment; ’tis not respect for God which restrains you, but the terror of his vengeance!

Fain would you offend him in secret, but you tremble to profess yourself his foe. Now shame on the coward soul, which wants the courage either to be a firm friend or open enemy!”

’Tis not the crime which holds your hand, but the punishment; ’tis not respect for God which restrains you, but the terror of his vengeance! Fain would you offend him in secret, but you tremble to profess yourself his foe.

Now shame on the coward soul, which wants the courage either to be a firm friend or open enemy!

”

with many other circumstances to the full as remarkable.

He said, that he was born in Terra Incognita, was educated at an Hottentot university, and had passed two years among the Americans of Silesia.

“For what regards the loss of my eye,” said he, “it was a just punishment upon me for disrespect to the Virgin, when I made my second pilgrimage to Loretto. I stood near the altar in the miraculous chapel:

“

By no means, reverend lady; they are of a delicate pea-green with flame-coloured hair and whiskers.

”

Guided by the moonbeams, he proceeded up the staircase with slow and cautious steps. He looked round him every moment with apprehension and anxiety.

He saw a spy in every shadow, and heard a voice in every murmur of the night breeze.

Consciousness of the guilty business on which he was employed appalled his heart, and rendered it more timid than a woman’s. Yet still he proceeded. He reached the door of Antonia’s chamber. He stopped, and listened. All was hushed within.

The murdered Elvira was continually before his eyes, and his guilt was already punished by the agonies of his conscience. Time, however, considerably weakened these impressions: one day passed away, another followed it, and still not the least suspicion was thrown upon him.

Impunity reconciled him to his guilt: he began to resume his spirits; and as his fears of detection died away, he paid less attention to the reproaches of remorse.

Matilda exerted herself to quiet his alarms. At the first intelligence of Elvira’s death, she seemed greatly affected, and joined the monk in deploring the unhappy catastrophe of his adventure:

Consequently, she entertained very little hope of ever being recompensed; but this consideration prevented her not from taking care that the interment was performed with decency, and from showing the unfortunate Antonia all possible respect.

Nobody dies of mere grief; of this Antonia was an instance.

Aided by her youth and healthy constitution, she shook off the malady which her mother’s death had occasioned; but it was not so easy to remove the disease of her mind. Her eyes were constantly filled with tears:

“Go to your mistress, Flora,” said she; “Here are rare doings! Oh! I am the most unfortunate woman alive!

My house is filled with ghosts and dead bodies, and the Lord knows what besides; yet I am sure, nobody likes such company less than I do.

But go your way to Donna Antonia, Flora, and let me go mine.”

Forsooth, it well becomes her to go racketing about my house at midnight, popping into her daughter’s room through the keyhole, and frightening the poor child out of her wits!

Though she be a ghost, she might be more civil than to bolt into a person’s house, who likes her company so little.

But as for me, reverend father, the plain state of the case is this: if she walks into my house, I must walk out of it, for I cannot abide such visitors, not I!

The duke found him upon the bed of sickness. His attendants expressed serious apprehensions for his life; but the uncle entertained not the same fears.

He was of opinion, and not unwisely, that “men have died, and worms have eat them; but not for love!”

He therefore flattered himself that however deep might be the impression made upon his nephew’s heart, time and Virginia would be able to efface it. He now hastened to the afflicted youth, and endeavoured to console him:

Thither must you now be conveyed. Food shall be supplied you, but not sufficient for the indulgence of appetite: you shall have just enough to keep together body and soul, and its quality shall be the simplest and coarsest.

Weep, daughter, weep, and moisten your bread with your tears: god knows that you have ample cause for sorrow!

Chained down in one of these secret dungeons, shut out from the world and light forever, with no comfort but religion, no society but repentance, thus must you groan away the remainder of your days. Such are St. Clare’s orders; submit to them without repining.

I had once been taught to look forward to a lot so different! At one time my prospects had appeared so bright, so flattering! Now all was lost to me. Friends, comfort, society, happiness, in one moment I was deprived of all!

Dead to the world, dead to pleasure, I lived to nothing but the sense of misery.

How fair did that world seem to me, from which I was forever excluded! How many loved objects did it contain, whom I never should behold again!

She told the nuns to whose custody I was committed that my fault was of the most heinous nature, that no sufferings could equal the offence, and that nothing could save me from eternal perdition but punishing my guilt with the utmost severity.

The superior’s word is an oracle to but too many of a convent’s inhabitants.

The nuns believed whatever the prioress chose to assert: though contradicted by reason and charity, they hesitated not to admit the truth of her arguments.

The exquisite sorrows with which they had been afflicted, made them think lightly of every succeeding woe.

They had felt the sharpest darts in misfortune’s quiver; those which remained appeared blunt in comparison.

Having weathered fate’s heaviest storms, they looked calmly upon its terrors: or if ever they felt affliction’s casual gales, they seemed to them gentle as zephyrs which breathe over summer-seas.

The exquisite sorrows with which they had been afflicted, made them think lightly of every succeeding woe. They had felt the sharpest darts in misfortune’s quiver; those which remained appeared blunt in comparison.

Having weathered fate’s heaviest storms, they looked calmly upon its terrors: or if ever they felt affliction’s casual gales, they seemed to them gentle as zephyrs which breathe over summer-seas.

This attempt was unsuccessful: the same excuse being repeated day after day, the archer’s story gradually obtained confidence.

His partisans abandoned him: no one entertained a doubt of his guilt; and they who before had been the warmest in his praise were now the most vociferous in his condemnation.

While his innocence or guilt was debated in Madrid with the utmost acrimony, Ambrosio was a prey to the pangs of conscious villainy, and the terrors of punishment impending over him.