Gothic Vault is an advice column for tormented, Gothic characters and their dreadful, eerie, bump-in-the-night dilemmas. Correspondent Erzsebet Carmean replies to questions submitted by fictitious people who have fictional problems. As author of Gothic characters, Erzsebet is abundantly qualified to dispense no-nonsense wisdom to those penned by others.
Most Graceful and Virtuous Erzsebet,
I beg pardon for addressing you without a formal introduction befitting your charity. May my reason for this unforgivable lapse be sufficient to move your virtuous heart to proffer advice. My need is dire and scarce can I write without trembling!
My true love, the virginal and innocent Agnes! How I sigh for her! Her mother, with a surfeit of piety, dedicated Agnes to God upon her birth. In the full sadness of fate, I met my dearest Agnes with scant time before she would be lost to the cloister of a nunnery. There was no chance of persuading her mother to remit her promise to God, though certainly God would not create two people so fitted for matrimony as my Agness and me if He did not intend us to be together! I am a man of no little means and could absolve us of our righteous deceit by buying extra Masses to be said in supplication for our immortal souls. In the extremity, I will petition the Most Holy Pope for an indulgence to restore our rightful good grace in Heaven.
Agnes is uncommonly shrewd for a girl of her tender age and devised a stratagem to affect her escape. Dearest Erzsebet, Agnes related to me that her familial castle is burthened by a specter known as The Bleeding Nun. This ghoul makes an appearance on the fifth of May every five years. At precisely one in the morning, The Bleeding Nun exits her chamber, descends the East Tower staircase, crosses the great hall and from there exits the castle. As per tradition, the castle gates are left open for her fearful exit: she needs this not (being able to spirit through any barrier), but politeness impels the Porter. Faint with terror to encounter her ghostly holiness, every living soul avoids the East Tower on the night of her excursion. My most delicate and pure Agnes proposed to disguise herself as the apparition and descend the East Staircase, pass through the unbarred gates, and meet me and a hired carriage. Certain that our blessed love will overcome her mother’s resistance, we will exchange our vows in a secret ceremony. Once wed and bed, Agnes can no longer be forced to take the veil.
I could see no flaw in her plan, save the importunate Duenna Cunegonda, who discovered our decision and vowed to waylay Agnes. My loyal manservant, Theodore, helped me abduct Cunegonda. This devout and misguided woman I stowed in a closet of my lodging; bound and gagged, she strove to scream for help whenever we loosed her mouth to eat. Honest Theodore discovered that secreting a bottle of brandy in the closet was a more efficient pacifier for the troublesome Duenna, and this we have done.
On the fifth night of the fifth month, I awaited my beloved as instructed. My heart and body ached with desire to clasp her to me. Be not scandalized, Wisest Erzsebet! I made solemn oath to protect Agnes’s chastity until the blessed night of our wedding. Imagine my joy when I espied a lantern gleam through the narrow casements of the East Tower and was assured of my darling’s descent to our cherished future. Ere she passed through the gates, I clutched her in my arms; she fell against me, swooning and speechless. I proclaimed to her, “Thou art mine! I am thine! In my veins while blood shall roll, thou art mine!” Brave Agnes, overcome by the adventure and her rapture to be with me, was cold to the touch. I hastened her into the carriage where she lay motionless across my lap. Even as a horrendous tempest howled about us, even as the horses ran in terror as if something more unnatural than a storm pursued them, even as the carriage overturned: Agnes remained as still as a corse [sic].
Flung from my seat, my head dashed upon a rock, I regained my senses only with the coming of the dawn and peasants poking at me with sticks to see if I yet lived. Upon gathering my strength, I inquired after the lady, begging news of her health. Oh, dreadful days of despair! I entreated the peasants and my hostess at the inn to search for Agnes. Their efforts were in vain. Weakened by my distress, I was unable to participate in the search but begged them time and again to venture back to the site of our accident. The lowly inhabitants of the village believed me delirious from the fall and a doctor bad [sic] me to drink a composing medicine. Gentle Erzsebet, may you never feel such agonies of heart!
And here, perhaps, you believe my tale to be at a melancholy close. Would that it were! One night, as repose eluded me, I heard the church bell chime one o’clock. Immediately thereafter, I perceived footfalls on the staircase. The door to my dim-lit chamber opened, and there approached my Agnes, still dressed in her disguise! Unaccountable cold dews glistered upon my brow, while the tremors wracked my body. My very hair stood on end! My dearest has arrived, yet I felt immense fear. Despite this, I drew up the veil covering my love’s face.
Oh, horror! Oh, perfected terror! The face, what there was of it, carried not one hint of the youthful, fresh skin of my Agnes. Believe me, dear Lady, when I say I looked upon the corrupt face of a corse![sic] This rotted, animated corse [sic] possessed hypnotic eyes and a horrible, paralyzing voice. “”Thou art mine! I am thine!” she rasped. “Mine thy body! Mine thy soul!” When she sat on my bed to take my hand in her icy grasp, when she pressed her frigid lips to mine – what pure agony of horror!
I have determined not to avail myself of advice from those I know well. The reputation of my family name relies upon my discretion. However, I am at my mind’s utter limit & my sanity at stake, for this evil pretender steals upon my chamber night upon night! I beg you, if you have a Christian heart, please reply with all haste.
Signed,
Your loyal servant and forlorn lover of the beatific Agnes
Dear Loyal Servant and Forlorn Lover of the Beatific Agnes,
You have much, much bigger problems than a ghost. I’ve notified the authorities that you are drugging and falsely imprisoning Duenna Cunegonda. They are knocking doors in all the towns closest to the castle of The Bleeding Nun and you will be found.
Your one saving grace (since you seem into that kind of thing) is that you failed to kidnap Agnes. You did not say how old she is, but given you refer to her as “virginal,” “pure,” and “innocent,” I am erring on the side of what-the-everloving-fuck are you doing with a girl who is “of tender age?” You deserve no congratulations on your pledge to protect her chastity until you are married: you have groomed this young woman to meet your needs. However, that you failed to abduct her does save you from jail time surrounded by convicted murderers who would love to get their hands on a man of your “proclivities.” In addition to abduction of a minor, you should thank the Nun Corse (which we spell c-o-r-s-p-e these days) for saving you from consummating your inappropriate marriage. In many locales, the difference in your ages might make you guilty of statutory rape. And, no, not even a note from the Pope will get you out of that judicial pickle.
You will be tempted to hire a sorcerer to rid yourself of the specter. Don’t bother. The police will be there before you can figure out how to put your gold coins into PayPal.
Looking forward to your trial & the ruination of your family name,
Erzsebet
The story of the elopement-gone-wrong is from The Monk by Matthew Lewis. The Monk is considered the forbearer to Gothic fiction. It incorporates many of the moods and tropes of Romanticism but is bitingly funny and unafraid to poke fun at Romantic ideals.
Erzsebet Carmean 