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The Mysteries of Udolpho

 A Romance 

 Interspersed With Some Pieces of Poetry 

 By Ann Radcliffe



Contents


 VOLUME I
 CHAPTER I
 CHAPTER II
 CHAPTER III
 CHAPTER IV
 CHAPTER V
 CHAPTER VI
 CHAPTER VII
 CHAPTER VIII
 CHAPTER IX
 CHAPTER X
 CHAPTER XI
 CHAPTER XII
 CHAPTER XIII

 VOLUME II
 CHAPTER I
 CHAPTER II
 CHAPTER III
 CHAPTER IV
 CHAPTER V
 CHAPTER VI
 CHAPTER VII
 CHAPTER VIII
 CHAPTER IX
 CHAPTER X
 CHAPTER XI
 CHAPTER XII

 VOLUME III
 CHAPTER I
 CHAPTER II
 CHAPTER III
 CHAPTER IV
 CHAPTER V
 CHAPTER VI
 CHAPTER VII
 CHAPTER VIII
 CHAPTER IX
 CHAPTER X
 CHAPTER XI
 CHAPTER XII
 CHAPTER XIII

 VOLUME IV
 CHAPTER I
 CHAPTER II
 CHAPTER III
 CHAPTER IV
 CHAPTER V
 CHAPTER VI
 CHAPTER VII
 CHAPTER VIII
 CHAPTER IX
 CHAPTER X
 CHAPTER XI
 CHAPTER XII
 CHAPTER XIII
 CHAPTER XIV
 CHAPTER XV
 CHAPTER XVI
 CHAPTER XVII
 CHAPTER XVIII
 CHAPTER XIX



Fate sits on these dark battlements, and frowns,
And, as the portals open to receive me,
Her voice, in sullen echoes through the courts,
Tells of a nameless deed. VOLUME 1



CHAPTER I

home is the resort
Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where,
Supporting and supported, polish’d friends
And dear relations mingle into bliss. THOMSON


On the pleasant banks of the Garonne, in the province of Gascony,
stood, in the year 1584, the château of Monsieur St. Aubert. From its
windows were seen the pastoral landscapes of Guienne and Gascony
stretching along the river, gay with luxuriant woods and vine, and
plantations of olives. To the south, the view was bounded by the
majestic Pyrenees, whose summits, veiled in clouds, or exhibiting awful
forms, seen, and lost again, as the partial vapours rolled along, were
sometimes barren, and gleamed through the blue tinge of air, and
sometimes frowned with forests of gloomy pine, that swept downward to
their base. These tremendous precipices were contrasted by the soft
green of the pastures and woods that hung upon their skirts; among
whose flocks, and herds, and simple cottages, the eye, after having
scaled the cliffs above, delighted to repose. To the north, and to the
east, the plains of Guienne and Languedoc were lost in the mist of
distance; on the west, Gascony was bounded by the waters of Biscay. M. St. Aubert loved to wander, with his wife and daughter, on the
margin of the Garonne, and to listen to the music that floated on its
waves. He had known life in other forms than those of pastoral
simplicity, having mingled in the gay and in the busy scenes of the
world; but the flattering portrait of mankind, which his heart had
delineated in early youth, his experience had too sorrowfully
corrected. Yet, amidst the changing visions of life, his principles
remained unshaken, his benevolence unchilled; and he retired from the
multitude “more in _pity_ than in anger,” to scenes of simple nature,
to the pure delights of literature, and to the exercise of domestic
virtues. He was a descendant from the younger branch of an illustrious family,
and it was designed, that the deficiency of his patrimonial wealth
should be supplied either by a splendid alliance in marriage, or by
success in the intrigues of public affairs. But St. Aubert had too nice
a sense of honour to fulfil the latter hope, and too small a portion of
ambition to sacrifice what he called happiness, to the attainment of
wealth. After the death of his father he married a very amiable woman,
his equal in birth, and not his superior in fortune. The late Monsieur
St. Aubert’s liberality, or extravagance, had so much involved his
affairs, that his son found it necessary to dispose of a part of the
family domain, and, some years after his marriage, he sold it to
Monsieur Quesnel, the brother of his wife, and retired to a small
estate in Gascony, where conjugal felicity, and parental duties,
divided his attention with the treasures of knowledge and the
illuminations of genius. To this spot he had been attached from his infancy. He had often made
excursions to it when a boy, and the impressions of delight given to
his mind by the homely kindness of the grey-headed peasant, to whom it
was intrusted, and whose fruit and cream never failed, had not been
obliterated by succeeding circumstances. The green pastures along which
he had so often bounded in the exultation of health, and youthful
freedom—the woods, under whose refreshing shade he had first indulged
that pensive melancholy, which afterwards made a strong feature of his
character—the wild walks of the mountains, the river, on whose waves he
had floated, and the distant plains, which seemed boundless as his
early hopes—were never after remembered by St. Aubert but with
enthusiasm and regret. At length he disengaged himself from the world,
and retired hither, to realise the wishes of many years. The building, as it then stood, was merely a summer cottage, rendered
interesting to a stranger by its neat simplicity, or the beauty of the
surrounding scene; and considerable additions were necessary to make it
a comfortable family residence. St. Aubert felt a kind of affection for
every part of the fabric, which he remembered in his youth, and would
not suffer a stone of it to be removed, so that the new building,
adapted to the style of the old one, formed with it only a simple and
elegant residence. The taste of Madame St. Aubert was conspicuous in
its internal finishing, where the same chaste simplicity was observable
in the furniture, and in the few ornaments of the apartments, that
characterised the manners of its inhabitants. The library occupied the west side of the château, and was enriched by
a collection of the best books in the ancient and modern languages. This room opened upon a grove, which stood on the brow of a gentle
declivity, that fell towards the river, and the tall trees gave it a
melancholy and pleasing shade; while from the windows the eye caught,
beneath the spreading branches, the gay and luxuriant landscape
stretching to the west, and overlooked on the left by the bold
precipices of the Pyrenees. Adjoining the library was a green-house,
stored with scarce and beautiful plants; for one of the amusements of
St. Aubert was the study of botany, and among the neighbouring
mountains, which afforded a luxurious feast to the mind of the
naturalist, he often passed the day in the pursuit of his favourite
science. He was sometimes accompanied in these little excursions by
Madame St. Aubert, and frequently by his daughter; when, with a small
osier basket to receive plants, and another filled with cold
refreshments, such as the cabin of the shepherd did not afford, they
wandered away among the most romantic and magnificent scenes, nor
suffered the charms of Nature’s lowly children to abstract them from
the observance of her stupendous works.