The Mysteries of Udolpho (Oxford World's Classics)

I have been intrigued by this novel for years, but I only knew Udolpho by reputation until I finally read the novel recently. Many studies of Gothic fiction cite Radcliffe's novel as a classic Gothic text, one of the early examples that set the standard for the genre as we now think of it. Scholars of the Female Gothic subgenre in particular point to Udolpho as an early example, mostly due to Emily St. Aubert's perfect turn as the helpless female heroine who became a stock character in early Gothic fiction. Then, of course, I read Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey in a college seminar and imagined Udolpho to be a laugh-worthy, melodramatic, fake horror fest. I can't say there aren't any laughable moments (Emily's poems), or that there isn't melodrama (lots of fainting; the parting scene between Emily and Valancourt at the end of Volume I), or even that there isn't some fake horror (all of the "mysteries" are explained by the novel's close); however, Radcliffe's novel defied my expectations in more ways than it reaffirmed them.

The Oxford World's Classics edition with the introduction by Terry Castle is the only edition I've read, but I recommend it particularly because of the introduction, which I found very interesting and insightful after finishing the novel. One point that Castle makes is that despite the novel's Gothic label, Udolpho is more like "a disconcerting textual hybrid." The multi-generic nature of the novel is one of the features that most surprised me; it takes quite a while for Emily to become imprisoned in Udolpho and what precedes her time there is almost anti-Gothic. Emily has perfect parents and the perfect upbringing, though she begins to suffer relatively early on when her mother dies. After this point, she and her father embark on a long trip across France, described at length by Radcliffe in what Castle terms "a bizarre quasi-travelogue." Here we get super-detailed descriptions of natural scenery and of the innate goodness of the St. Aubert clan. Yes, some of the nature described could be filed under "sublime," and such descriptions are standard in many Gothic texts. They are also standard in many Romantic texts, and while the overlap between those two genres/movements is significant, for some reason the Gothic has been viewed as the dark, popular (ew!) sibling of the (maybe) sunnier (self-satisfied?), high-art-producing Romanticism. While the St. Auberts' innocence and goodness make them prime targets for our evil Italian villains (Montoni, primarily), they do spend a lot of their time happily exploring nature, and even after several tragedies befall her and dampen her spirits (and make her faint a lot), Emily is relatively cheerful at times. In other words, the mood is not always Gothic in the novel; indeed, it's probably Gothic less often than it is something else. And then besides the travel narrative, there are also those poems that Emily composes on a whim, about sea nymphs and weary travelers. Radcliffe also incorporates excerpts from poetry into her prose, along with lines from Shakespeare plays, and she begins each chapter with epigraphs from other works. I think that in many ways, the mixing of genres in the novel ultimately makes it a more interesting and more complex text.

Udolpho is a very long novel (almost 700 pages), but, as an insanely popular best-seller in the late 18th century, Radcliffe's work was apparently quite a page-turner. Even Austen's Henry Tilney admits that after hijacking his younger sister's copy of the novel, he "could not lay down again; I remember finishing it in two days--my hair standing on end the whole time." For modern readers, there's not going to be much in Udolpho that is particularly scary, but Radcliffe does create suspense by introducing mysterious plot elements and not resolving those elements for, literally, hundreds of pages. But because all of those elements are, indeed, resolved, and any potentially supernatural phenomena are explained away, the novel isn't really about scaring the reader at all. Instead, we are invited to witness, as many other reviewers have noted, the coming-of-age of the heroine, as she struggles to overcome her passion and superstition to live a life governed by reason and logic. At the same time, however, I agree with Castle that Radcliffe aims "to reawaken in her readers a sense of the numinous - of invisible forces at work in the world." These forces are not exactly supernatural, though; instead, "Radcliffe represents the human mind itself as a kind of supernatural entity." In this sense, Udolpho is truly a Gothic classic as a result of its interest not in mysterious external forces, but in the way in which the human mind registers such forces, and how it attempts to understand and work through them. The Gothic's preoccupation with human psychology is more often-commented on in response to American Gothic works like Poe's short stories or Female Gothic classics like Gilman's "The Yellow Wallpaper," but I see this as a primary interest of Radcliffe's in Udolpho, as well.

I have given the novel five stars, which reflects my personal enjoyment of the work and my interest in the themes and issues it raises for a reader. It will probably be most well-loved by those interested in Gothic fiction, literature by women, and those who are enamored by lengthy, patient, meticulously-detailed narratives. As a fan of all of those things, I recommend the novel and its introduction very highly.

Without intending any slur on the work itself, it's not unreasonable to theorize that "The Mysteries of Udolfo" is read in our time mainly because of its appearance as a plot element in Jane Austen's "Northanger Abbey," the heroine of which has imbibed too much Radcliffe and sees the real world around her in a melodramatically Gothic tint; it is a fond yet subtly comic send-up in which Radcliffe's book, and the sensation it caused in its own time, are essential to Austen's heroine. Thus, had it not been for Jane, some of us wouldn't have come across Ann. And thus did I and a friend come to read "Udolfo" largely for this historical interest: What made this book so immense in its influence that, just a few years later, Jane Austen was moved to build a character around it?

Hard to say.

Many reviewers here are moved to ecstasies in their praise for "Udolfo," and I envy them their devotion; for my part, it is a hard slog. Crucial plot threads peter out disappointingly (the dastardly Montoni is disposed of in the midst of a brief paragraph and thereafter forgotten); there are howling failures of craft (like the hilariously disappearing/reappearing dog, which, into the bargain, behaves like no dog ever did); the book is stuffed with simply unnecessary anachronisms which confirm that the author read no sources before setting a historical novel 200 years before her own time; and one can make a game of the author's most egregious nervous ticks: Go ahead and try to guess how many times the words "pensive," "melancholy," "solemnity," and "countenance" will appear on any given page. And then there are the commas: The editor of this edition, in the excellent and enjoyable foreword, has excused Radcliffe's loopy overuse of commas with the idea that they tell one when to pause while reading aloud to a group (a popular parlor entertainment at the time); maybe so, but when "sounded in the mind's ear" they make the text lurch like a train with sticky brakes.

There are upsides. Radcliffe's descriptions of Emily's travels, her reflections on a stupendous natural world seen through innocent eyes, are lyrical, almost hallucinogenic. They have the intoxicating effect of the monumental naturalist painting style of the era, probably not accidentally. There are also brief, pointed character observations tinged with subtle, wry humor, so skillfully chiseled that they bring Austen to mind. The passages with these qualities prove that Radcliffe could throw down with the top rank; the trouble is that most of time, she didn't.

Considering that the novel as an art form was still new in the late 18th Century, one tends, in good faith, to reflexively defend the book as a product of its time. And yet, one really can't: The equally melodramatic, yet expertly comic "Tom Jones" was four decades earlier and evinces none of "Udolfo's" lapses of craft or plotting. Horace Walpole's "The Castle of Otranto" was thirty years earlier and not only precedes "Udolfo" as the primordial Gothic novel but does so in a drastically tighter package that nevertheless presents all of the now-classic archetypes and schemata. The magnetic attraction of "Udolfo" in its time thus seems curious. It's not like better stuff had never been seen.

And yet it was Radcliffe who created the "Da Vinci Code" of her day, the middlebrow novel that was not only read voraciously but which changed the public's expectations about the experience of reading novels - to the extent that a later, greater author was moved to build a work around this glowering edifice. Radcliffe was paid 500 pounds for the manuscript, unheard of then, and was comfortable for the rest of her life. Why the publisher couldn't also hire an editor to blue-pencil the text I don't know. A second set of eyes could have worked wonders of surgical enhancement.

This is a very long (670 page) coming-of-age novel that foregrounds the evolving sensibility of its teenage heroine Emily. Like any good romantic heroine, Emily is fond of nature, poetry, music & the simple pleasures of country living; and like any good Gothic heroine she's inflinitely susceptible to strange noises, evocative landscapes, and sinister personalities with suspicious histories. Her father instructs her not to be too sensitive or susceptible, and to discipline her still impressionable sensibility but thankfully she's never very successful at following her father's rational instructions. Those who are Emily's equal, and who are as responsive to the transports of nature & as susceptible to and curious about strange occurences & influences as she will immediately adore this book.

Radcliffe is brilliant at describing her heroine's evolving sensibility and allowing her heroine to document her own changing mental states with poetry. This is the higher pleasure of the book: the examination of female sensibility.

The lower pleasure of the book would be the GOTHIC atmospheres & characters that Radcliffe subjects her romantically-inclined heroine to. The Gothic atmospheres (castles with secret passageways, veiled portraits, remote mountain passes populated by banditti) & characters (almost all of the villains are Italian and excessively vile) are great fun. A lot of people (including Percy Shelley & Jane Austen) make fun of this kind of Gothic writing, but without it think of all the pleasures we would be missing out on.

Certainly some Gothic writing addresses serious real-world anxieties and fears (about divine abandonment; about psychic dissolution; about aristocratic power arbitrarily and maliciously exercised; about women's rights; about sexuality; about irrationality and/or susceptibility to unknown forces both within and without). However, this is not one of the more radical examples of Gothic literature. In fact, this is often considered to be a rather conservative example of Gothic literature. There is no real mention of God, instead nature is unquestionably revered. There is one instance of mental breakdown but its due to excessive guilt not any metaphysical anxiety or fear. There are plenty of corrupt aristocrats but they are more interested in acquiring property than in torturing young maidens. Womens rights and sexuality are topics that are never brought up, at least not explicitly. For every unnatural phenomenon there is a rational explanation. Hence this is a rather tame version of the Gothic.

For readers seeking more sensual & lurid versions of the Gothic, the Marquise de Sade's Justine & Matthew Lewis's The Monk might be better options.

And for those seeking more metaphysically & philosophically evocative versions of the Gothic, there is Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.

But Radcliffe definitely has her strengths. Even though the things that happen around Emily and some of the other characters often seem overly done, Emily herself is a great Gothic heroine (sensitive, imaginative, and infinitely susceptible to terrors).

I may be biased as I'm an English major with a focus in 18th century literature, but I think this is a great book. A very interesting combination of spookiness, romance, and even thrill. Very extensive descriptions of traveling and nature, but certainly of interest. I wouldn't recommend this to anyone looking for a really casual read- unless you're like me, who considers this "a bit of light reading" (*insert Hermione Granger throwing an enormous tome onto a wooden table*). It's a beautiful book if you're willing to put the work into reading it, which I would encourage. It's a fascinating look into the development of horror and 18th century understandings of history- and there are plenty of ghosts and evil villains to keep you happy. Bottom line: a difficult read, but please don't let that stop you!

Having an interest in Gothic literature (mostly of the horror variety), and hoping to read a novel length version of the great short stories I read in "the Oxford Book of Gothic Tales", I picked up what was supposed to be THE Gothic Novel, "The Mysteries of Udolpho".

Though Anne Radcliffe may be one of the founders of Gothic literature, I can't say that her work represents the best examples of it.

Characters are two dimensional and often hilariously so. Montoni doesn't even have enough depth to twirl his mustache. He's cruel and calculating, no redeemable qualities to be found, no intriguing facets to be had, not even a charismatic sociopath, you just hate him and his flat, tedious, generic villainy. The aunt, not much of an improvement, might as well be the evil step-mother from Cinderella. The main character Emily, is chaste and ladylike, she likes to recite her own poetry (if you thought all the songs and poems in LotR were a chore, brace yourself). She also faints at the sight of her own shadow. This becomes a running joke in the novel, except the author is being dead serious. And Valancourt, good lord, I can't imagine, even back then, that someone would ever act like this. Extremely sensitive and sentimental, he sighs, he gasps, he clutches his chest, he jumps out of his seat and paces in forlorning, I was surprised that he didn't start fainting as well.

Anne Radcliffe ascribes to "explained supernaturalism". I personally found all the reveals to the supernatural elements disappointing. I think it is partly a case of that troupe being done to death (ie. they were just crazy the whole time), but it is also because Anne way overdoes it. Most stories will only introduce one supernatural element, and it will turn out to be a major plot point. Anne just fires them out one after the other, and none of them amount to anything. One in particular was so built up, you expected some kind of Dorian Grey action, and instead what you actually got, I just laughed.

While it makes heavy use of some troupes, there are other troupes that would have actually been beneficial to it and yet wasn't used. A big climatic showdown with the villain? Nope. The love interest to the rescue? Nope. The heroine takes charge and escapes by her own wits? Nope. The whole thing was equivalent to having the villain defeated by tripping on his own shoelaces and falling down a flight of stairs, returning home to find that your knight in shinning armor had spent the whole time you were in captivity in front of the t.v watching football, and the only reason you escaped in the first place was because everyone guarding you just decided to leave.

Did I mention that all of this is heavily padded with long descriptions of scenery, dialogue about loving scenery, and thoughts about how great the scenery is?

Read Jane Eyre instead. It was inspired by this novel, but the prose, characterization, and story is far superior.

I was about to embark on another reading of "Northanger Abbey," when I decided, why not read the book so often referred to in that novel?
So I picked up "The Mysteries of Udolpho" instead, and am thrilled that I did. Not only did it make my subsequent reading of "Northanger Abbey" much more lively, I was as captivated by "Udolpho" as Catherine Moreland was herself, who says in "Northanger," "Oh! I am delighted with the book! I should like to spend my whole life in reading it."
What I loved so much more than the Gothic terrors was Radcliffe's descriptions of sublime scenery and her description of its impact on her heroine. Emily is full of sensibility and her life brims over with misfortune, but her sensitivity to the grandeur around her maintains its heightened energy no matter what catastrophes befall her.
Although I had to periodically put the book down (one isn't always in the mood) it will stand forever in my mind as an example of a high mark of civilization.

I'm glad that writing has improved over the years. I've travelled in southern France and was amazed at how accurate her descriptions were. Otherwise, I found the book rather boring. I was curious after having read Jane Austin to see what she had read.

great condition

As a female horror author, I decided last fall it was high time I read what is considered to be one of the first Gothic novels written by a woman, “The Mysteries of Udolpho” by Ann Radcliffe.

My first encounter with Gothic literature came at around the age of twelve. I’ve always been big into vampires, and as luck would have it, my best friend’s brother had a copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula that he was willing to let me have it. 19th Century novels are hard enough for most adults, but I was a determined reader and pushed my way through. I went on to read it at least ten more times over the years, each time understanding a little bit more.

From Stoker, I moved on to Poe, Dickens, and Hawthorne all on a voluntary basis, plus whatever reading of that period that was required of us for English classes such as Mark Twain. After high school, I discovered the likes of Willkie Collins, Emily Bronte, and Oscar Wilde. As a Civil War reenactor for nearly ten years, I wanted to learn more about the period based on the diaries which led me to the likes of Sarah Morgan, Rose Greenhow, and Mary Chestnut.

All this being the long-winded way of saying I am familiar with the ins and outs of 18th-19th century writing. Speaking of long-winded, let’s talk about the novel in question.

The Mysteries of Udolpho, published in 1794, takes us on what is now considered a typical Gothic adventure. A life of peace and happiness is shattered when young Emily is left a poor orphan and placed in the cruel hands of her nearest relative. In this case, an aunt. During Emily’s happier days she meets and falls in love with a handsome cavalier named Valencourt. But, alas, this love struck couple will not find it so easy to be married and live happily ever after. First, Emily must be torn from her native land of France to reside in Italy with her heartless aunt and uncle who want to marry her off to a wealthy friend who’s old enough to be Emily’s father. But, Emily’s heart has sworn allegiance to Valencourt and she’ll have no business with her elderly suitor. Next, she is removed to the isolated fortress of Castle Udolpho where, after the death of her aunt, it seems as if Emily is destined to suffer the same fate at the hands of her greedy uncle.

Getting to this point, unfortunately, took half the book and with a total of over 600 pages, that’s a long and somewhat tedious amount of reading. And yet, much like slogging my way through Dracula as a twelve-year-old, I persisted and emerged victorious. But, did Emily? Will she ever escape her treacherous uncle and the prison Castle Udolpho has become? Who is the mysterious male figure she keeps seeing at night moving about on the battlements? What of the female ghost-like apparition being reported by the servants and seen by Emily herself? Will she and Valencourt ever set eyes on each other again? I’m not telling!

Dark, brooding, and suspenseful, it’s easy to see how The Mysteries of Udolpho set the stage for so many other Gothic novels that would follow and why it was so popular with the ladies of its hay day. A tough read at times, but well worth the effort and satisfaction I got when I was finally able to close the covers knowing at long last, the eluded to mysteries of Udolpho.

Due to it taking half the novel to get to the good stuff, I’m giving it –

3 out of 5 Ravens

To read more of my book reviews, visit pamelamorrisbooks.com

This is regarded as one of the most influential novels in gothic literature. Unfortunately, I struggled through every page. Highlights include some philosophical musings in a couple places, but the payoff for fighting through this 700+ page novel was less than satisfying.