“The Romance of the Forest” by Ann Radcliffe

An Underappreciated Gem

“…He has not been able to get The Romance of the Forest yet. He was so busy the last time he was at Kingston that he quite forgot it, but he goes again tomorrow.”

So says Harriet Smith to Emma Woodhouse in Jane Austen’s Emma. An innocuous mention of a novel published twenty-five years before her own, serving mostly to further Emma’s distain for the man in question. How can her friend Harriet like Mr. Martin, a man who can’t even be bothered to obtain the book his lady friend recommended?

“How much his business engrosses him already, is very plain from the circumstance of his forgetting to inquire for the book you recommended…What has he to do with books? And I have no doubt that he will thrive and be a very rich man in time—and his being illiterate and coarse need not disturb us.”

For once, I am in agreement with Emma. Those who cannot appreciate the gem of a novel which is The Romance of the Forest need not disturb us.

Now, chances are, in this little portion of Emma, any novel would have accomplished the same purpose, narratively speaking. However, Jane Austen herself was an enjoyer of Ann Radcliffe novels, as evidenced by Northanger Abbey, in which a significant portion of the plot revolves around Mrs. Radcliffe’s best-known work, The Mysteries of Udolpho.

We’re not here to discuss Udolpho, though. We’re here to discuss The Romance of the Forest, an arguably better, certainly more tightly-plotted novel with as much adventure as a reader could wish, and far more poetry.

The Romance of the Forest was published in England in 1791, at a time when books of poetry and travelogues were in vogue—not novels. The author, Ann Radcliffe, had already published a few less successful novels in the genre of Gothic Romance. Her problem was they were set in Scotland, which the Brits at the time thought was boring. As soon as she started setting novels in France and Italy, however, they became exciting and amazing.

Before you raise too many eyebrows at the words “Gothic Romance,” let me inform you Romance in this context is literary Romance, that is, “A work of fiction dealing with events remote from real life,” (OED). Not romance in the modern sense. That’s not to say there’s no love story—there definitely is. It’s not the main driving force of the plot, though.

What is it about? Set in France in the 1650s, Adeline, the heroine of the novel, is cast into the care of strangers, the de le Motte family. The de la Mottes are fleeing Paris because Pierre de la Motte—or simply La Motte as he is more frequently called in the novel—is a gentleman turned semi-petty criminal whose crimes are finally catching up to him. The husband and wife, with Adeline now in tow, flee to a forest, where they find refuge in an abandoned abbey and become squatters. The inhabitants of a nearby town, when asked about the abbey, are all too eager to share their urban legend that someone was once murdered in the abbey. Spooky. After a while, the Marquis who owns the forest and abbey shows up, and Gothic Romance Plotlines ensue.

If you think one of those plotlines is the Marquis and Adeline falling in love—don’t mind me. I’m over in the corner dying of laughter. No, no, I told you this isn’t a romance novel. The Marquis is our Dastardly Villain. Emphasis on dastardly.

The actual love interest is Theodore, a soldier. While I enjoy Ann Radcliffe novels, I have an issue with most of her heroines’ love interests. I plan on writing about Udolpho one day, so I won’t go much into Valancourt here, but good heavens, the man is useless! That’s still one step above Vivaldi, the hero of The Italian, who is worse than useless, actively making everything worse for his lady love. Theodore, on the other hand, is a man of action. He is bound and determined to protect Adeline, and he risks life and limb to do so. His resolve and competence is quite refreshing compared to the other two.

Now, for Adeline herself. She’s caring, honorable, and brave. She’s attuned and solicitous of the feelings of those around her. It is always her first priority to make her friends and family comfortable and ease their burdens in whatever way she can. She refuses to compromise her morals, no matter what situation she’s in. As for her bravery, well, she got through her Gothic Romance Plotlines basically unscathed. That takes some guts in a character.

One thing modern readers have a bit of trouble with in Gothic novels is the women. I will tell you right now, Adeline faints probably twenty times over the course of the book. Keep in mind, this was published in 1791. For the time, it’s not a sign of weakness or worthlessness in a woman and is not meant to be taken as such. I’ll admit though, when I first read the novel, the fainting seemed like a sign of a particularly delicate constitution to me. At one point, the book declares Adeline does not have a delicate constitution, but I remain unconvinced. Either way, don’t take it to mean Adeline is a weakling. That’s doing her a great disservice. For example, partway through the book, when she’s captured by the villain, she saves herself by escaping through a window (spoilers?).

After that incident, the man, the myth, the legend, Theodore is there with an escape carriage. He couldn’t figure out how to get Adeline away, so she needed to escape on her own, but she couldn’t have outrun the villain’s henchmen if Theodore hadn’t brough an escape vehicle. See, it all ties together in a neat little bow.

Or, it would, if the story were over. It isn’t. We still have some people who need to get stabbed and stuff. Not to mention that abbey murder mystery to unravel. Also poetry. Have I mentioned how much poetry this book has? So much poetry. Way too much poetry.

Another thing the book will constantly point out about Adeline is her incredible beauty. This is a device to illustrate her extreme purity of spirit and inherent goodness, as well as her innocence, because nothing about her is hidden. Her inner nature is reflected by her outer appearance. The Marquis is also attractive on the outside, but unlike Adeline, he is vile on the inside. This contradiction is a part of his character. Many modern authors eschew this form of physical characterization, but it’s done very well here, and shows why it was a literary tradition for many years.

One of my favorite parts of an Ann Radcliff novel, which this book has in spades, are the vivid descriptions of the glory of nature. I, too, like to wax eloquent about how wonderful mountains and forests are, and I love how the author uses her heroine’s appreciation for nature to show Adeline is a deep, enlightened thinker. Anyone in a Radcliffe novel who can’t appreciate nature is a buffoon or evil. Just like real life, right?

To the modern reader, many aspects of this book may feel ridiculously cliché. While I understand if that makes it annoying for some, I would like to remind the modern reader this book was published in 1791. It was basically inventing the clichés, or at least solidifying them, which makes it a fascinating read all on its own.

The Romance of the Forest is one of those cozy books to me, a book I can be happy curling up with when I just need to read something comforting and familiar. While it may not have the literary acclaim of other classics because it actually has a happy ending (spoilers?), it is definitely an underrated gem of a novel still well-worth reading in the modern day.