The story of the bleeding nun is a whole thing in Matthew Lewis’s The Monk. A few years after its publication he published the following poem in his Tales of Wonder.

I’d never heard the tale of the bleeding nun until I started this Gothic research.

Brief summary: Young lovers learn she is being sent to a convent and plot to use the local legend of the bleeding nun to their benefit. On the night the apparition of the bleeding nun is to appear (which all but the most superstitious know to be myth) they will disguise her as the spectre and once she’s out of the castle the two will escape and elope.

The Bleeding Nun

Where yon proud turrets crown the rock,
Seest thou a warrior stand?
He sighs to hear the castle clock
Say midnight is at hand.

It strikes, and now his lady fair
Comes tripping from her hall,
Her heart is rent by deep despair,
And tears in torrents fall.

— “Ah! woe is me,” my love, she cried,
“What anguish wrings my heart:
“Ah! woe is me,” she said, and sigh’d,
“We must for ever part.

“Know, ere three days are past and flown,
“(Tears choak the piteous tale!)
“A parents vow, till now unknown,
“Devotes me to the veil.”

— — “Not so, my Agnes!” Raymond cried,
“For leave thee will I never;
“Thou art mine, and I am thine,
“Body and soul for ever!

“Then quit thy cruel father’s bower,
“And fly, my love, with me.”
— — “Ah! how can I escape his power,
“Or who can set me free.

“I cannot leap yon wall so high,
“Nor swim the fosse with thee;
“I can but wring my hands, and sigh
“That none can set me free.”

— — “Now list, my lady, list, my love,
“I pray thee list to me,
“For I can all your fears remove,
“And I can set you free.

“Oft have you heard old Ellinore,
“Your nurse, with horror tell,
“How, robed in white, and stain’d with gore,
“Appears a spectre fell,

“And each fifth year, at dead of night,
“Stalks through the castle gate,
“Which, by an ancient solemn rite,
“For her must open wait.

“Soon as to some far distant land,
“Retires to-morrow’s sun,
“With torch and dagger in her hand,
“Appears the Bleeding Nun.

“Now you shall play the bleeding Nun,
“Array’d in robes so white,
“And at the solemn hour of one,
“Stalk forth to meet your knight.

“Our steeds shall bear us far away,
“Beyond your father’s power,
“And Agnes, long ere break of day,
“Shall rest in Raymond’s bower.” —

— “My heart consents, it must be done,
— “Father, ’tis your decree, —
“And I will play the Bleeding Nun,
“And fly, my love, with thee.

“For I am thine,” fair Agnes cried,
“And leave thee will I never;
“I am thine, and thou art mine,
“Body and soul for ever!” —

Fair Agnes sat within her bower,
Array’d in robes so white,
And waited the long wish’d-for hour,
When she should meet her knight.

And Raymond, as the clock struck one,
Before the castle stood;
And soon came forth his lovely Nun,
Her white robes stain’d in blood.

He bore her in his arms away,
And placed her on her steed;
And to the maid he thus did say,
As on they rode with speed:

— “Oh Agnes! Agnes! thou art mine,
“And leave thee will I never;
“Thou art mine, and I am thine,
“Body and soul for ever!” —

— “Oh Raymond! Raymond, I am thine,
“And leave thee will I never;
“I am thine, and thou art mine,
“Body and soul for ever!” —

At length, — “We’re safe!” — the warrior cried;
“Sweet love abate thy speed;” —
But madly still she onwards hied
Nor seem’d his call to heed.

Through wood and wild, they speed their way,
Then sweep along the plain,
And almost at the break of day,
The Danube’s banks they gain.

— “Now stop ye, Raymond, stop ye here,
“And view the farther side;
“Dismount, and say Sir Knight, do’st fear,
“With me to stem the tide.” —

Now on the utmost brink they stand,
And gaze upon the flood,
She seized Don Raymond by the hand,
Her grasp it froze his blood.

A whirling blast from off the stream
Threw back the maiden’s veil;
Don Raymond gave a hideous scream,
And felt his spirits fail.

Then down his limbs, in strange affright,
Cold dews to pour begun;
No Agnes met his shudd’ring sight,

— “God! ’Tis the Bleeding Nun!” —
A form of more than mortal size,
All ghastly, pale, and dead,
Fix’d on the Knight her livid eyes,

And thus the Spectre said.
— “Oh Raymond! Raymond! I am thine,
“And leave thee will I never;
“I am thine, and thou art mine,
“Body and soul for ever!”

— Don Raymond shrieks, he faints; the blood
Ran cold in every vein,
He sank into the roaring flood,
And never rose again!

1801 (From Tales of Wonder. Written and Collected by M. G. Lewis. Vol. 2. London, 1801) https://archive.org/details/taleswonder01leydgoog

Here’s a pairing of concepts that’s new to me. I haven’t read his work yet, but historian Dror Wahrman apparently argues/suggests/indicates/frames the British 18th century as one of gender play followed by gender panic.

Hmmm, reading a review of his book The Making of the Modern Self, it looks like he may be addressing something that Horace Walpole exemplifies. And that is the Addisonian condemnation of English character as shallow and superficial. I noted that Walpole embraced these qualities.

One reviewer writes:

“Dror Wahrman is only the most recent historian to attempt to elevate the “forgotten century” to greater prominence in British historical studies, but he has done so by focusing our attention on the very superficiality that has consigned the period to the margins for so long.”

Eglin, John. “The Making of the Modern Self: Identity and Culture in Eighteenth-Century England.” Journal of Social History 40, no. 4 (2007).

I like the countering of the two concepts of gender play and gender panic because it neatly captures something about Timothy Mowl’s biography of Walpole I couldn’t articulate before.

Mowl writes his biography as if he is a historian in an era of gender panic writing about a figure in an era of gender play. (Perhaps mindset is a better term than era?) Mowl deserves abundant credit for taking up issues of gender and sex in the world of Horace Walpole when a few centuries of criticism, review, and biography skated around the topic. Mowl, however, doesn’t have a particularly strong concept of gender history. His work feels dated, even for the mid-1990s. He takes a paragraph in the introduction to establish his heterosexual bonifides and assure the reader he is “happily married to a second wife,” and “father of [a] school-age son,” but he can write about queer life because there is much “homosexual activity” in his chose profession of architectural history. I can smell the gender panic rising from the page.

I’m intrigued by Wahrman’s framing because it suggests Walpole wasn’t an outlier (Mowl calls him “the great outsider”). He was representative of the gender play of his era.

Looking forward to reading Wahrman’s book.

As far as Mowl’s book? Definitely worthwhile for the serious walpolianite, not so necessary for the cursory reader. For the cursory reader interested in Walpolian gender/sex I recommend: Haggerty, George E. “Queering Horace Walpole.” Studies in English Literature, 1500-1900 46, no. 3 (2006): 543–62.

Surrealist auteur Jan Svankmajer made this animated short of Castle of Otranto. He uses an absurdist TV documentary as a framing device. It looks very 1970s Czech TV.

I thought it was just about perfect.

It’s hard not to start with Horace Walpole (1717-1797) when researching the Gothic. His novella The Castle of Otranto he subtitled A Gothic Tale, and a few decades later critics, reviewers, and writers of Gothic stories pointed to him as a key influence. Lots of contemporary academic work still points to Castle of Otranto as the first gothic novel. Walpole was also a key figure in the architectural Gothic Revival of the mid- to late-18th century.

Once I started digging deeper in to Walpole’s writing and his life I was struck by a strong sense of recognition. Walpole’s most significant literary production were his letters. He was a prolific letter writer (the definitive collection runs to 38 48 volumes!) and in these letters he can come across as utterly contemporary. Part of this shock of recognition is also that he reads very queer. He reminds me a lot of John Waters. Arch, gossipy, smart, funny, bitchy, and not inclined to take himself seriously.

When Joseph Addison wrote dismissively of his fellow English he could have been writing about Horace Walpole (though slightly before Walpole’s time).:

“Our general Taste in England is for Epigram, Turns of Wit, and forced Conceits, which have no manner of Influence, either for the bettering or enlarging the Mind of him who reads them, and have been carefully avoided by the greatest Writers, both among the Ancients and Moderns. I have endeavoured in several of my Speculations to banish this Gothic Taste, which has taken Possession among us.” Addison, Thursday, June 19, 1712.

Walpole would take that Gothic taste and make it his own. He celebrated the epigram and wit, embraced anecdote, gossip, and witty one-liners. Walpole’s aesthetics weren’t driven by historical accuracy (though he was a noted antiquarian) but by personal joy, which included large doses of whimsy, humor, and absurdity.

Around the time he was renovating his Gothic chateau (Strawberry Hill House) his neighbors along the Thames were were also renovating. Walpole wrote:

“The country wears a new face; everybody is improving their places…. The dispersed buildings, I mean, temples, bridges, etc. are generally Gothic or Chinese and give a whimsical air of novelty that is very pleasing.”

This taste for whimsy and novelty is continually emphasized by Walpole but is often overlooked by his biographers. Perhaps by its utter ubiquity it’s not necessary to address.

In the following frontispiece commissioned by Walpole for his memoir of the reign of George II, Walpole is handing a sheaf of papers to Democritus, the laughing philosopher, and turning away from Heraclitus, the weeping philosopher. (The trope of having these two philosophers together (Heraclitus always weeping or sad, Democritus always laughing or happy) was common in this era.)

(Holy Mackerel! As I am writing this I remember that Democritus is from Abdera! Horace Walpole is Abderitic!)

There’s an abundant amount of humor and whimsy in Strawberry Hill House, and his Gothic novella intoduces an absurd element in the second paragraph. The Castle of Otranto opens with a giant helmet falling from the sky and crushing the puny prince. A moment of absurd humor that would be noted by Andre Breton when he went searching for the forebears of surrealism.

Hmmm, I wonder if there are elements of humor/absurdity in post-Walpole Gothic lit I’ve missed? Probably? But I also suspect much of the tongue-in-cheek humor prized by Walpole evaporated from the genre as it developed later in the 18th century.

Hi all. I hope your new year is starting out well.

One of the tropes of blogging is to note how long it’s been since the last post and to make an earnest declaration to post more frequently moving forward. Let’s take that as a given and move on.

I’ve decided to make 2024 my Year of Gothic. Last summer I took a more-or-less random detour into Frankenstein and all things Frankenstein-related which sparked an interest in the gothic literature of the 18th and 19th century.

I’m allowing serendipity to guide my interests in this project. There are so many forking pathways to divert my attention and I believe this may occupy the whole of 2024.

Who even knows how much posting there will be this year. Not me! But with any luck I’ll share some of cool stuff I’m unearthing.

One pathway I won’t be exploring much is goth music of the late-20th century. Perhaps a post or two but I wager I’ll spend more time writing about elegiac poetry of the 18th century than Siouxsie or The Cure.

But that’s not for today. Today is to wish good health and much love to everyone. 2023 is gone and here’s to a better year in 2024!

Ha! I haven’t been doing daily cartooning practice. Regardless, here’s #3.

Spring/Summer (sprummer) cartooning is starting slowly, nonetheless I persist.

Next cartooning supply to buy – wite-out!

Writer/artist/poet/collagist/speaker/inspiring internet dude Austin Kleon credits Lynda Barry with changing his artistic life.

Inspired by Barry and other artists, Kleon has developed his own notebook practice over the years. This guy is a really dedicated notebooker! He keeps THREE notebooks going at the same time (a logbook, a diary, and a commonplace diary). Here are his posts about his notebook practice.

In Syllabus, Barry recommends pasting/taping stuff into your notebook. She expects students to fill up 3 to 4 composition books over the course of a semester. Kleon similarly puts in lots and lots of stuff, from notes taken when listening to podcasts, to collages, notes to self, cartoons, doodles, & scribbles.

Here’s a more-or-less random example he’s posted online:

I notebooked from about 13 to 37, stopped from 37 to 53, and have been notebooking the last few years (~5ish). I don’t think I’ve ever completed the equivalent of 4 notebooks in a semester. (One a month?) I also wasn’t doodling, drawing, sketching, and scribbling so I’ll see if I can pick up the pace this cartoon sprummer.

First unforeseen challenge was trying to get my scanner to talk to my computer. I spent an hour doing network troubleshooting yesterday afternoon before giving up and deciding to use the scanner at work.

I didn’t want to ink over the pencil image in case I made a mistake. So, the following cartoon is inked over a photocopy of a penciled cartoon, which means there’s no pencil underlay to erase, which means it has a weird double-lining.

Anyway, this is my first attempt to create a cartoon avatar for myself.

Cartoon #1