The Mysteries of Udolpho - The Original Classic Edition
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I fear I dont have the words to fully explain just how important, enjoyable, and breath-taking this novel is to me; The Mysteries of Udolpho is simply one of the greatest written works ever produced. While this is a Gothic novel, arguably the greatest Gothic novel ever written, it is so much more than that. Gothic denotes dark castles, spectral haunts, dastardly deeds performed by cruel, mysterious men–certainly these elements are here. However, a large portion of this novel is simply beautiful–no one I know of has ever described the simple grandeur of life and nature or waxed more poetically on the noble merits of love and honor as does Ann Radcliffe. <p> Emily is one of the most memorable characters in all of fiction. To be frank, I simply fell in love with her. Through her, I was able to not only see but to better appreciate life itself and the simple beauties it manifests. When she was hurt or pained, I shared her sorrow; many times, I felt compelled to jump up and somehow defend her against the monstrous injustices inflicted upon her. I admired her morality and deep commitment to honor, a commitment so deep that she sacrificed in deference to it her own deep love for Valancourt, a love so deep that it alone allowed her to withstand the horrors of Count Montoni and the castle of Udolpho. Certainly, Emily is very sensitive and overdramatic, and she does tend to faint a lot, but she is a pure angel to someone like myself who is a Victorian at heart. <p> I wish I could mention all of the wonderful characters and all of the scenes and events, both beautiful and horrific, to be found in these pages. These were times when I literally had to put one hand across the page to keep from jumping ahead to see what was about to happen. I do want to stress the beauty and romance of the novel because these aspects are overshadowed by the perception people have of Gothic literature. The story of Emily and Valancourt is one of the greatest love stories in literature. Future readers, please dont pick the novel up until such a time as you are truly committed to reading it; it is rather long, and this is not a novel you will want to lay aside for several days at a time. Also, the first 100 pages or so are somewhat hard to get through. Radcliffe paints a living portrait of nature in these pages, describing more details than I could ever even hope to witness. You wont encounter the Gothic horror you may be expecting until you get rather deeply into the story, so keep that in mind. Approach this novel as you would a work of art because that is exactly what it is.
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THE MYSTERIES OF UDOLPHO
A Romance
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St. Aubert continued silent till he reached the chateau, where his wife had retired to her chamber. The languor and dejection, that
had lately oppressed her, and which the exertion called forth by the arrival of her guests had suspended, now returned with increased effect. On the following day, symptoms of fever appeared, and St. Aubert, having sent for medical advice, learned, that her disorder was a fever of the same nature as that, from which he had lately recovered. She had, indeed, taken the infection, during her attendance upon him, and, her constitution being too weak to throw out the disease immediately, it had lurked in her veins, and occasioned the heavy languor of which she had complained. St. Aubert, whose anxiety for his wife overcame every other consideration, detained the physician in his house. He remembered the feelings and the reflections that had called a momentary gloom upon his mind, on the day when he had last visited the fishing-house, in company with Madame St. Aubert, and he now admitted a presentiment, that this illness would be a fatal one. But he effectually concealed this from her, and from his daughter, whom he endeavoured to reanimate with hopes that her constant assiduities would not be unavailing. The physician, when asked by St. Aubert for his opinion of the disorder, replied, that the event of it depended upon circumstances which he could not ascertain. Madame St. Aubert seemed to have formed a more decided one; but her eyes only gave hints of this. She frequently fixed them upon her anxious friends with an expression of pity, and of tenderness, as if she anticipated the sorrow that awaited them, and that seemed to say, it was for their sakes only, for their sufferings, that she regretted life. On the seventh day, the disorder was at its crisis. The physician assumed a graver manner, which she observed, and took occasion, when her family had once quitted the chamber, to tell him, that she perceived her death was approaching. 'Do not attempt to deceive me,' said she, 'I feel that I cannot long survive. I am prepared for the event, I have long,
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