Monk

Author: Matthew Gregory Lewis
Translator: Li Weifang
Country: United Kingdom
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2002-06-01
Features: He thought, "Who besides me could endure the trials of youth with a spotless conscience? Who besides me could restrain my strong emotions and tempestuous nature, enduring voluntary solitude from birth? I cannot find such a person. Only I have such determination. How can religion compare to Ambrose? How immense is the impact of my sermons on my audience! How many people gather around me! How deeply do they adore me, viewing me as the pillar of the Church! What else can I do? Apart from observing my brothers' behavior as I have observed my own, there is nothing else. But wait! Will I not succumb to temptation and deviate from the path I have always followed? Am I not a man of passions, capable of making mistakes? I must abandon the solitary life of the monastery. Many beautiful ladies from Madrid are coming to the monastery, refusing to use any other confessor but me, insisting that I be their confessor. But I must accustom myself to their temptations, resist the allure of luxury and desire. I should meet so many beautiful women here, just like you,! he thought, gazing at a saintly image on the opposite wall. Over the past two years, his interest in the painting had grown, and his admiration for it had increased daily. He paused, then stared at the painting with excitement. "How beautiful her expression is!" After a few moments of silence, he continued to think, "How charming her head turned! How sweet and holy her eyes are! How gently her cheek rests on her hand, more delicate than the rose, more rosy than the lily! Oh, if such a creature truly existed, and existed only for me, how wonderful that would be! How I would love to run my hands through her golden curls, to kiss her pale breasts! Lord, must I resist this temptation? Could I not trade thirty years of suffering for one embrace with her? I cannot give up! How foolish of me! Why must I suffer because of my love for this painting? Get away, these shameful thoughts! I must remember that I am forever destined to be without women. No mortal can be so perfect. But even if such a person did exist, ordinary people could absolutely not resist such temptation, except for me, Ambrose. Am I talking about temptation? It means nothing to me. When I am revered as a man above the ordinary, the immoral behavior of these women disgusts me. Of course, it is not the beauty of this woman that attracts me, but the skill of the painter that moves me. I admire the holiness of divinity that this painting portrays! Have these feelings within me not yet faded? Have I not overcome the weakness of human nature? Do not fear, Ambrose! Believe in the power of your virtue. Bravely enter a new world, you will surpass emotions: remember that you have no flaws, dare to face the dark specters and all challenges.
His mind was in chaos, emotions warring within him, unable to discern which would prevail. He was undecided how to handle the situation. He realized that prudence, religion, propriety, and compulsion demanded that Mathilde leave the monastery; yet on the other hand, he had ample reason to agree to her staying, and he was very willing for her to stay. He could not avoid Mathilde's praise of him; her love greatly satisfied his vanity, for he had inadvertently conquered a heart that even the most noble knights of Spain could not. He could not help but recall the happy moments he had spent with her, yet the thought of the impending separation filled him with emptiness and sorrow. To keep Mathilde, he even thought that, given her wealth, her presence would be an indispensable asset to the monastery. "What dangers would staying with her bring me? Of course, I can trust her words. It would not be difficult to forget her gender and still regard her as my friend and follower. Clearly, her love is as pure as she depicts it. If it were driven by desire, how could she have concealed it for so long? Could she not have used cunning to satisfy her needs? No, quite the opposite. She has been making every effort to conceal her gender, revealing her secret only out of fear of exposure and, perhaps, out of trust in me. She observes the rules as strictly as I do. Before this, she made no attempt to stir up the latent feelings within me, nor did she ever speak of love. If she desired my love rather than respect, she would not have been so careful to conceal her charm. Until now, I have not seen her face, oh, but from what I have seen, her face must be lovely, her body must be beautiful!"
When this last thought crossed his mind, a blush spread across his cheeks. Shocked by his own thoughts, he got out of bed and knelt before the Virgin, praying for her help to extinguish the sinful feelings within him. Then, he returned to bed and fell into a dream filled with erotic scenes: Mathilde stood before him, his eyes fixed on her exposed breasts, she repeatedly expressed her eternal love, her arms around his neck, kissing him passionately. He responded in kind, embracing her in the illusion, which then vanished. Next, he dreamed of the Virgin he cherished: he knelt before her, her eyes shining with an enigmatic, indescribable light. He kissed her and found her lips warm. She came to life, walking down from the wall, embracing him passionately, and he was lost in the experience. Such scenes accompanied Ambrose's sleep, his unsatisfied desires manifesting as sinful, seductive visions. Upon waking, he felt exhausted and ashamed, recalling the dream with regret. When he reflected on the reasons for agreeing to Mathilde staying the previous night, he felt equally ashamed. The dark clouds that had clouded his judgment were dispelled, and he trembled as he realized he had become a slave to flattery, greed, and self-love. If even an hour-long conversation with Mathilde had caused such a change in his thoughts, how could he dare keep her?
Awakened to the danger, he resolved to drive her away without delay. He began to believe he could not resist temptation; no matter how composed Mathilde remained, he could not remain untouched. Yet he had once thought he could resist any temptation. "Agnes! Agnes!" he cried out in his predicament, "I have felt the curse!" He left the room, determined to drive away the false Rosalio. During morning prayer, his mind and heart were filled with worldly thoughts, preventing him from concentrating. After the ceremony, he entered the garden and came to the place where he had felt awkward the previous night. He was certain Mathilde would come looking for him. Sure enough, soon after, Mathilde arrived at this secluded spot, approaching him timidly. After a few moments of silence, Mathilde seemed to be about to speak, but Ambrose quickly interrupted her. Though unsure of her impact on him, he was already afraid of hearing her sweet voice.
In the outer room, he saw Antonia. He could not let this opportunity pass; he went over to comfort her, telling her that her mother needed rest and quiet, and that her condition might improve. He asked who was caring for her mother and promised to send a highly skilled doctor. Then, he praised her mother greatly, calling her pure of heart and strong of spirit, someone he deeply respected. Antonia was deeply moved, tears welling in her eyes. His hope for her mother's recovery, his sympathy for her, and the admiring expression on his face when he mentioned her, along with the praise he had received for his judgment and virtue, and the impression his eloquence had left on her, all confirmed why Antonia had developed a preference for him from their first meeting. She answered him shyly but without reservation. She revealed her grief, worries, and concerns without hesitation; she expressed her gratitude for his kindness with great warmth, a sincerity that easily arises in a young and innocent heart. Only such genuine warmth allows one to truly appreciate the benefits received. Those who understand the treachery and selfishness of human nature always accept help with anxiety and suspicion, suspecting hidden motives behind it. Their expressions of gratitude are cautious and restrained, fearing to fully acknowledge kindness and knowing that one day they will need to repay it. Antonia was not like that. She believed the world was made up of people like her, unaware of the existence of sin. The monk had helped her; he had wished her health and happiness, and she was deeply grateful, not knowing how to express her thanks.
Ambrose listened to Antonia's words with great pleasure! Her natural elegance, innocent demeanor, beautiful and charming face, sweet and gentle voice, and understanding eyes all delighted him, filling him with admiration. Moreover, her expressions were clear, precise, and unadorned, entirely the spontaneous outpouring of her sincere heart, making her even more captivating. "Antonia will be mine!" the monk exclaimed; "Mathilde, you fill me with joy! Happy moments are coming, a gift from you, a symbol of friendship! I will be free from the eyes of onlookers, free from disturbers, and possess my Antonia freely! I will confess my love to her, teach her how to love, and enjoy the pleasure! Oh, does this happiness truly belong to me? Can I do as I please? Ah! Mathilde, how can I thank you?"
"Antonia lives to serve you, so my advice, which will help you achieve your goals, is my greatest happiness. Your interests and happiness are mine. Your body may belong to Antonia, but your friendship, your heart—those remain mine. To bring you joy is my only joy. If my efforts satisfy your desires, then my labor will be doubly rewarded. Now, do not waste any more time. The liquid I mentioned is kept in the laboratory of the Convent of Saint Claire. Go quickly to Abbess Domina; she will allow you to enter the laboratory. In the large laboratory, there is a closet containing liquids of different colors and properties. The bottle you seek is on the third shelf from the left, and the liquid is green. Slip a small bottle unnoticed, and you will be successful."
Ambrose immediately agreed to carry out this wicked plan. His already intense desire for Antonia had grown even more uncontrollable after sitting by her bedside in the morning. He realized Antonia was far more beautiful than he had imagined, and he saw a charm he had never noticed before: her arms exposed on the pillow were smooth and pale; sometimes a sudden twitch revealed her rounded breasts. His eyes lingered on every part of her that captivated him, and before Antonia and her protector, Fraulein Florella, he almost lost control.
Recalling these thoughts, he began to carry out Mathilde's plan. As soon as morning prayer ended, Ambrose went to the Convent of Saint Claire. His arrival surprised all the nuns; they had never imagined that Ambrose would deign to visit them. The abbess felt deeply honored and did her best to please him. He was led through the garden, shown the relics of saints and virgins, and treated with the utmost respect, as if the Pope himself had come. Naturally, Ambrose thanked the abbess for her hospitality and told her, to satisfy her curiosity, that many of those who confessed to him were too ill to leave their homes and urgently needed religious guidance and comfort. Many had asked for his help, though against his own wishes, he felt compelled to serve God and change his plans, leaving his beloved solitude. Abbess Domina praised his great passion for his profession and his love for humanity, saying that Madrid was proud to have such a perfect man.
Just then, Ambrose reached the laboratory. He indeed found the closet and the bottle exactly where Mathilde had described. He seized an opportunity, unnoticed by others, to pour the sleeping liquid into a small bottle he had brought. After breakfast in the refectory, with the nuns' farewell, he left the Convent of Saint Claire, filled with the joy of success.