“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned”—But what if the one who is supposed to absolve you is even more guilty? This is an idea explored in quite some depth and from a variety of angles throughout Gothic literature. The Gothic has had a very complicated relationship with religion, and Christianity in particular, from its earliest days. Sincere religious belief is often a virtue of the best Gothic heroes and heroines. But some of the genre’s most debased villains are those who wear the cloth of the Church. Early Gothic novels were highly critical of the horrors committed in the name of religion during the Spanish Inquisition, and these works also reflect Protestant and Anglican fears around Catholicism. But even the most obvious anti-Catholic caricatures were often a bit more nuanced, as many authors relied on the acceptable depiction of evil Catholic clergy to more subtly critique the overreach of religious authorities within their own communities. And no sect is safe! You’ll find dangers in any denomination in later works of Gothic literature. Let’s take a look at how corrupted clergymen (and a few women!) have crept through these novels.
[A quick note: This is far from my area of expertise, being neither very well-versed in Christian theology nor in the complex religious history of Great Britain and Continental Europe that informed most of these novels. I am deeply indebted to Dr. Sam Hirst (@RomGothSam on Twitter) for providing some insight on Christian theology in the Gothic. Follow Dr. Hirst if you’d like to hear more from an expert on this topic!]
Ambrosio, the title character in Matthew Lewis’s The Monk (1797) is the most obvious example from early Gothic literature and served as a prototype for many of the corrupted clergy members that followed. Ambrosio starts off as a devout and virtuous man of faith, but he meets with a corrupting influence within the very halls of the monastery. An alluring young novice named Rosario, turns out to be a woman named Matilda in disguise (who in turn is later revealed to actually be a demon). Matilda seduces Ambrosio, leading him to embrace both his lust and the dark arts. Thoroughly corrupted, Ambrosio then turns his attentions on the innocent young girl Antonia. He uses both the trust placed in him as a religious figure and a bit of sorcery in his attempts to abduct and rape Antonia. After victimizing others throughout the novel, Ambrosio ultimately becomes himself a victim of the Inquisition. He makes a final pact with the Devil for his freedom, but even the Devil finds him to be a repulsive hypocrite.
Ann Radcliffe, one of Lewis’s contemporaries, disagreed with the author of The Monk on much of his philosophy of the Gothic. But one thing they did agree on was including corrupted clergy members in their stories. Father Schedoni is one of the principal villains in Radcliffe’s 1797 novel The Italian. Schedoni is the confessor to the Marchesa di Vivaldi who schemes with him to prevent her son from marrying a beautiful orphan. He abducts the young woman, sends her to a convent, tries to assassinate her, and has the Marchesa’s son imprisoned by the Inquisition. Schedoni is then revealed to have an even darker past that included fratricide, rape, and a forced marriage.
It’s not just the menfolk you need to watch out for, though. Both The Monk and The Italian feature a cruel prioress or abbess as a secondary villain, terrorizing the vulnerable women in their respective convents. But this type character is brought to extremes in W. H. Ireland’s appropriately titled novel The Abbess (1799). Mother Vittoria Bracciano is essentially the female counterpart to Lewis’s Ambrosio. She uses her position as the Mother Superior at the Santa Maria convent to rule over the nuns with an iron fist. She also betrays her vows and indulges in illicit sexual exploits, even forcing herself on the novel’s young hero who is trying to court one of the nuns. Like Schedoni, she has those who displease her captured by the Inquisition, and she enjoys presiding over their torture.
Of course, I can’t write a whole post about corrupted clergy without mentioning Frollo. This iconic Disney villain is just as terrifying in the original Gothic novel, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame by Victor Hugo (1831). Frollo is the archdeacon of the Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris and the guardian of a hunchback named Quasimodo. What the film version leaves out is that he also performs alchemical experiments that gain him a reputation as a sorcerer. But Disney’s adaptation does capture his obsessive lust for the beautiful Esmeralda. In Hugo’s novel, Frollo orders Quasimodo to kidnap Esmeralda. After this fails, Frollo allows Esmeralda to be wrongfully accused of witchcraft and attempted murder. When she claims sanctuary in the cathedral, Frollo tries to leverage her safety for sex. Esmeralda refuses, and Frollo turns her over to the law, laughing while he watches her hang. Yeah, the ending is a bit darker than in the Disney film.
While powerful Catholic leaders of major institutions are the most popular choice for Gothic villains, you can still find pernicious priests in a modest country vicarage. One great example is in Daphne du Maurier’s 1936 novel Jamaica Inn. (I’m about to spoil the big mystery of the book, but hey, once you’re familiar with this trope, you’ll probably see it coming.) When young Mary Yellan goes to stay at Jamaica Inn with her abusive, murderous uncle, she finds an unexpected ally in Francis Davey, a vicar from the neighboring town. She confides in Francis Davey all her thoughts and fears and runs to him for help after her uncle forces her to witness his crimes. Francis Davey betrays that trust, however, and is eventually revealed to be a blaspheming pagan and the evil mastermind behind the uncle’s wrecking and smuggling scheme. He takes Mary hostage and tries to force her to join him in a life of villainy.
We could get into a larger theological discussion here, but I think the main takeaway is that if you ever find yourself inside a Gothic novel, a) avoid convents and monasteries at all costs, b) steer clear of the Inquisition, and c) if you’re feeling the urge to confess your sins, maybe just tell a friend or write them down, rather than putting your trust in the confessional. Can you think of any other examples of corrupted clergy in Gothic literature? What other tropes would you like to see me cover here? Let me know in the comments! And if you’d like to read more on the tropes I’ve already covered, you can click on “Tropes” under the categories listed in the left-hand menu.