The Mysteries of Udolpho: A Romance
by Ann Radcliffe
Emily continued to urge her father the truth, which himself had impressed upon her mind.
'Besides, my dear sire, 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 to enjoyment of the poor, as well as the rich. [...] We retain, then, the sublime luxuries of nature, and lose only the frivolous ones of art.' (59-60)
I read this book in search of pre-1882 fictional female scientists. Emily St Aubert approximates one in some ways-- she is trained in reason, and she is able to control her emotions better than many of the men she encounters, she looks at plants-- but as I believe the above quotation shows, she is
not one. Emily enjoys grand vistas, and her father is a botanist, but neither of them study nature in the way that we would now call
scientifically. They appreciate it aesthetically; they are not out there to
objectively analyze it, or to catalogue it in that way a Victorian might. Similarly, Emily might have a handle on her emotions, but it's not because of any kind of scientific training, more a general kind of intellectual training. Now, I think all of this derives from the same Age of Enlightenment set of values that, at the time
The Mysteries of Udolpho was written, was giving
birth to what we now call science, but it is not quite the same thing
as science, and so therefore Emily is no scientist or woman of science; perhaps her father is a naturalist at best.
Also, can I say that I have now read two of Ann Radcliffe's Gothic novels, and both were exceedingly dull? I know the past is another country and all, that's what I've devoted my life to explicating, but how anyone found this book suspenseful is beyond me. The occasional snatch of spooky music is not enough to carry one through hundreds of pages of tedium before someone finally gets probably murdered over three hundred pages in. By that point, the eternally virtuous Emily had caused me to completely check out. I did dutifully plow through to the end, but by the end, the skimming was highly aggressive.