The Mysteries of Udolpho

“A well-informed mind is the best security against the contagion of folly and vice. The vacant mind is ever on the watch for relief, and ready to plunge into error, to escape from the languor of idleness.”

St. Aubert’s advice to Emily shows his own wisdom and progressive ideals. For St. Aubert, an education is essential because it feeds the mind. Without this food, the hungry mind wanders and strays. This passage also speaks to the theme of The Importance of Balancing Sensibility and Reason.

“The sun was now setting upon the valley; its last light gleamed upon the water, and heightened the rich yellow and purple tints of the heath and broom, that overspread the mountains.”

Radcliffe’s writing style is often referred to as “painterly,” for its ability to evoke a visual image for the reader. This passage, describing a sunset over a valley during Emily and St. Aubert’s travels, shows how Radcliffe uses visual elements, such as color and light, to paint a picture with her words. The attention to natural scenery in the passage is also reflective of the text’s sympathetic depiction of nature as a place of beauty, solace, and purity of mind.

“Valancourt had known little of the world. His perceptions were clear, and his feelings just; his indignation of an unworthy, or his admiration of a generous action were expressed in terms of equal vehemence. St. Aubert sometimes smiled at his warmth, but seldom checked it, and often repeated to himself, ‘This young man has never been at Paris.’”

St. Aubert’s fond observation of Valancourt appears as an ironic foreshadowing in retrospect, because Valancourt does eventually visit Paris and fall into bad company, breaking Emily’s heart. Paris, being a city, is an ambiguous space in the novel. Unlike the countryside, which is depicted as simple and pure, the city is shown to be a place of temptation, artifice, and confusion.

“These scenes, soften the heart, like the notes of sweet music, and inspire that delicious melancholy which no person, who had felt it once, would resign for the gayest pleasures. They waken our best and purest feelings, disposing us to benevolence, pity, and friendship. Those whom I love—I always seem to love more in such an hour as this.”

Valancourt’s rapturous observations of nature are tinged with the Romantic philosophy of Radcliffe’s time. Nature is seen as perfect because it evokes fine, virtuous emotions such as love, devotion, and compassion. That Valancourt harbors these views makes him a favorable character, much like Emily and St. Aubert.

“‘The world,’ said he, pursuing this train of thought, ‘ridicules a passion which it seldom feels; its scenes, and its interests, distract the mind, deprave the taste, corrupt the heart, and love cannot exist in a heart that has lost the meek dignity of innocence. Virtue and taste are nearly the same, for virtue is little more than active taste, and the most delicate affections of each combine in real love.’”

St. Aubert’s perceptive words highlight the age-old dilemma between the sensitive, artistic individual and the materialistic world. For the world, sensitivity and a love of nature may be meaningless activities, but this should not dissuade the individual. Instead of being useless, the text presents these activities as actually virtuous, since only those who apply the principles of beauty to life always perform the right action.

“This sum then, he said to himself, would make this poor family completely happy—it is in my power to give it—to make them completely happy!”

Valancourt’s exhilaration in discovering the good he can do with a simple action reflects his rejection of materialism and the depth of his humanity. Early in the novel, he embodies the ideal youth, filled with ardor and purity, and prone to impulsivity. These lines separate him from the materialistic men of the world, setting him up as an apt match for Emily.

“Besides, my dear sir, poverty cannot deprive us of intellectual delights. It cannot deprive you of the comfort of affording me examples of fortitude and benevolence; nor me of the delight of consoling a beloved parent. It cannot deaden our taste for the grand, and the beautiful, or deny us the means of indulging it; for the scenes of nature—those sublime spectacles, so infinitely superior to all artificial luxuries! are open for the enjoyment of the poor, as well as of the rich.”

Emily’s consolation to her dying father is a poignant reversal of roles, as well as a manifesto of her deeply-held values. These lines show Emily as a non-materialistic and egalitarian person. She notes that being impoverished cannot keep anyone from enjoying nature, though her statement does not take into account the fact that such enjoyment would require leisure and free time, which people who are impoverished and the working class often lack. Emily’s well-intentioned but naive views are era-appropriate, since class privilege was still not a subject widely examined; her indifference to wealth for its own sake, however, foreshadows the willingness she will show toward helping others when she becomes a rich heiress at the novel’s end.

“Let me not forget the lessons he has taught me! How often he has pointed out the necessity of resisting even virtuous sorrow; how often we have admired together the greatness of a mind, that can at once suffer and reason! O my father! if you are permitted to look down upon your child, it will please you to see, that she remembers, and endeavors to practice, the precepts you have given her.”

Emily is depicted as an ideal, dutiful child, honoring her father’s words after his death. However, remembering St. Aubert’s advice is not just a matter of empty duty for Emily, but also a survival tactic: As a parentless, single young woman, Emily knows that she must follow her father’s wise advice to navigate the tough world.

“Such is the inconsistency of real love, that it is always awake to suspicion, however unreasonable; always requiring new assurances from the object of its interest.”

Analysis of The Mysteries of Udolpho sometimes focuses more on its supernatural elements at the expense of its central love story, but Radcliffe’s portrayal of the romance is intense and realistic. As Emily is forced to leave for Venice, Valancourt loses his fortitude, asking her for reassurances of love. Valancourt’s insecurity is driven by the intensity of his feelings and his grief at imminent separation from Emily. Unlike Emily, who is bound to conduct herself with propriety at all times, Valancourt gives free rein to his emotions and expresses his agitation, further revealing the divide between how a young man can behave in comparison to a young woman at the time.

“Ah, merry swain, who laugh’d along the vales,

And with your gay pipe made the mountains ring,

Why leave your cot, your woods, and thymy gales,

And friends belov’d, for aught that wealth can bring?”

Poems are an important feature of the novel, reflecting its thematic concerns. These lines open “The Piedmontese,” a poem Emily composes on her way to Italy. A pastoral ballad, the poem asks the merry youth why he must leave the beautiful, familiar countryside for the empty glamor of the city. The poem can be seen as Emily’s own intense longing for an idyllic home she is being forced to leave, while also reflecting the novel’s division between the purity of the countryside and the corruptions of urban life.

“I might as reasonably have expected to find sincerity and uniformity of conduct in one of your sex, as you to convict me of error in this affair.”

Montoni frequently makes such sexist remarks to Emily. After Emily hopes he made a mistake in making her sign a letter, Montoni clarifies that what he did was no accident, but a deliberate ploy. He then takes the chance to slide in a sly insult about Emily’s gender. A woman would have to be honest and rational for Montoni to have made an error. Since that is clearly impossible, Montoni is error-free. The figure of speech Montoni uses here is an example of a hyperbole or an exaggeration.

“I am endeavoring to convince you of your good fortune, and to persuade you to submit to necessity with a good grace […] I would ask you, now, seriously and calmly, what kind of match you can expect, since a Count cannot content your ambition?”

Madame Montoni’s advice to Emily is both cruel and practical. As a materialistic woman who has lived as a widow for a long time, Madame Montoni knows a marriage of convenience can be a necessity for a woman. From the point of view of the ethical and sensitive Emily, already in love with Valancourt, the advice of marrying for money is abhorrent.

“But a terror of this nature, as it occupies and expands the mind, and elevates it to high expectation, is purely sublime, and leads us, by a kind of fascination, to seek even the object, from which we appear to shrink.”

This passage is an example of Radcliffe’s linking of the Gothic to the human psyche and fear. Radcliffe implies terror can occupy the human mind to such an extent that the object of terror remains the only reality. One is drawn to seek this sole reality, despite the terror.

“Yes, Annette, you love the wonderful; but do you know that, unless you guard against this inclination, it will lead you into all the misery of superstition?”

Emily does not realize that she is being unwittingly ironic in her advice to Annette. Like Annette, Emily too tends to be curious about the fantastic, and is prone to suggestions about the supernatural. This statement is an example of Radcliffe’s subtle use of irony and humor. It also highlights the novel’s key theme of The Importance of Balancing Sensibility and Reason.

“From the steps, they proceeded through a passage, adjoining the vaults, the walls of which were dropping with unwholesome dews, and the vapors that crept along the ground, made the torch burn so dimly, that Emily expected every moment to see it extinguished.”

This description of a scene from Emily’s treacherous journey with Barnardine shows how Radcliffe uses subtle atmosphere, instead of gore, to build up the air of menace in Emily’s surroundings. The walls and vaults, although everyday features of a castle, are depicted as uncanny and hostile—a projection of the protagonist’s terrorized state of mind.

“You may find […] that the strength of my mind is equal to the justice of my cause; and that I can endure with fortitude, when it is resistance to oppression.”

Emily is modest and temperate, but she is also strong-minded and courageous, as she exhibits in this exchange with Montoni. Refusing to sign over her property rights to him, Emily attempts to maintain a degree of autonomy and resistance to patriarchal systems of control. Her willingness to stand up for herself shows the development of her character arc.

“‘You speak like a heroine,” said Montoni, contemptuously, “we shall see whether you can suffer like one.’”

Montoni often mocks Emily for trying to be a “heroine,” a woman who fancies herself the hero of her own destiny. He could also be referring to the female lead in popular narratives of Radcliffe’s times, who are often imperiled or imprisoned. Montoni here threatens Emily with a similar fate, suggesting that the real-world terrors Montoni represents are far more threatening than the supernatural elements in the story.

“Where is she? Signor […] tell us where she is.”

Verezzi’s insistence on knowing Emily’s whereabouts is as chilling as any scene of supernatural horror. A hidden Emily listens as he and his drunk friend get her possible location from Montoni and chase after her. The sexual threat to Emily is a recurring motif in the text and is a rational explanation for her state of anxiety in Udolpho.

“To have lost Valancourt by death, or to have seen him married to a rival, would, she thought, have given her less anguish, than a conviction of his unworthiness, which must terminate in misery to himself, and which robbed her even of the solitary image her heart so long had cherished.”

Emily’s heartbreak is made worse by her disillusionment in Valancourt. Had she lost him any other way, she would have had the consolation of having his pristine memory. She is doubly grieved now because she feels even her memory of Valancourt has been sullied. The intensity of Emily’s feelings and judgment reflects her youth and sensitivity.

“How strange it is, that a fool or a knave, with riches, should be treated with more respect by the world, than a good man, or a wise man in poverty!”

Emily’s observation of the way power and class operate in the world shows her growth as a character. Lack of wealth does not just rob one of choices, it also alters the way one is perceived by people. Emily cynically notes that the mourners being nice to her at Madame Montoni’s estate are doing so only because she is now an heiress. When she was just Madame Montoni’s impoverished niece, the same people scorned her.

“He spared her the pain of replying by leaving her, and she strolled on, somewhat displeased with the count for having persevered to plead a suit, which she had repeatedly rejected.”

This passage highlights how even well-intentioned men like Count de Villefort push Emily’s boundaries on questions of marriage. Emily has clearly told the count she is not interested in Du Pont, yet he patronizingly repeats the proposal to her. Emily’s inner resistance to the count’s actions shows her courage and strong-mindedness.

“‘Her death presents to us a great and awful lesson. Let us read it, and profit by it; let it teach us to prepare ourselves for the change, that awaits us all! You are young […] Preserve it in your youth, that it may comfort you in age; for vain, alas! and imperfect are the good deeds of our latter years, if those of our early life have been evil!’

Emily would have said, that good deeds, she hoped, were never in vain.”

The abbess of St. Clare is depicted as compassionate, but her statement about the dying Sister Agnes claims Agnes’s later good deeds are imperfect because they cannot cancel out her prior sins. Emily privately notes that good deeds are ”never in vain,” implying that good deeds are always worth doing, whatever one’s prior flaws may have been. Emily’s response shows her wisdom and her evolution as a character, while also foreshadowing her eventual forgiveness of Valancourt for his own youthful failings.

“‘You know me then,’ said Laurentini, ‘and you are the daughter of the Marchioness.’ Emily was somewhat surprised at this abrupt assertion. ‘I am the daughter of the late Mons. St. Aubert,’ said she; ‘and the lady you name is an utter stranger to me.’”

Sister Agnes/ Signora Laurentini’s dramatic statement enhances the suspense of the plot, and also voices one of the latent suspicions growing in Emily’s own mind. Although Emily denies the assumption made by Laurentini, the matter is not resolved immediately, heightening the intrigue in the narrative.