The Romance of the Forest

Endangering the heroine’s sexual virtue is a familiar device for creating conflict in a romance. This is a dramatic technique Samuel Richardson relied upon in his formative novel Pamela (1740), in which the heroine’s refusal of an impassioned suitor eventually leads to marriage. But in Richardson’s second novel, Clarissa (1748), the heroine gives in to her suitor and later declines into death when he abandons her. The question of whether Adeline will refuse the Marquis and still preserve her well-being scaffolds the dramatic events of this section.

Adeline’s friendless plight is, in one sense, the result and a critique of a culture that makes women dependent on men. Without a family of her own, she is in constant need of protection from others. Those who could or should be her protectors continually abandon her, beginning with her supposed father and continuing with La Motte, who, when forced to choose between defending Adeline or displeasing the Marquis, sacrifices Adeline. Her attractiveness allows her a choice of protectors—both Louis and Theodore have proclaimed their love—but her kidnapping by the Marquis proves that her allure is equally a source of danger. Adeline’s fruitless wanderings in the gardens of the Marquis’s chateau, when she is lost in the dark, signal how dramatically dependent she is on others for guidance, assistance, and support. Even though Theodore poses no threat to her person, Adeline is still aware of her vulnerability. Radcliffe reinforces this dependency of women on men by the plight of Madame La Motte, who shares her husband’s exile and has lost her friends, position, and material comforts all because of him. Adeline notes amid her dilemma that, were she to call upon Madame La Motte for assistance, it is most likely that Madame would simply support her husband’s wishes.

Resisting the sexual advances of the Marquis becomes another way that Adeline’s actions thematically support Self-Interest, Self-Preservation, and the Insistence of Virtue. La Motte suggests the path of self-interest, urging her to take what the Marquis offers for her benefit and his. But Adeline’s maintenance of her sexual purity is a form of self-preservation. A convention of 18th-century thinking about sexuality held that, for a woman, losing her virginity outside of marriage was a step on a sure road to ruin. This idea is represented in Richardson’s novels as well as in visual arts like William Hogarth’s series of paintings titled A Harlot’s Progress, published in 1731. Preservation of her sexual chastity by resisting his false offer of marriage, and then his attempts at seduction with food and music, signals Adeline’s strength of character. Further proof is her distaste for deceit in pretending to be flattered by his attentions, even when such deceit is a matter of self-preservation.

Amplifying the sexual danger that Adeline is in, the discovery of the hidden chamber, the dagger, and the manuscript of the prisoner’s diary all hint at a worse possible threat by corroborating the suggestion of murder. Adeline’s early question about whether the Marquis is responsible raises the possibility that his villainy toward her could increase. These discoveries add to the Gothic effects of terror as much as pathos, for the discovery creates moments of deep emotional affect for Adeline. Her distress for the plight of the prisoner, whose identity she does not yet know, illustrates her sensitivity not just to appropriate sentiments like pity but to nobler sentiments of justice, as she perceives he was wronged by both his imprisonment and his death. The laments of the imprisoned man over his sufferings parallel Adeline’s sense of being held captive by the Marquis, first in the abbey and then later in his chateau. The presumed fate of this poor prisoner hangs over her wrongful imprisonment, threatening the possibility that she could meet the same fate.

At the same time, Adeline’s reading of the manuscript is another self-conscious gesture on the part of the novel toward its mechanisms and intentions. She is, in essence, reading a Gothic tale of her own: there is a medieval setting, an atmosphere of terror and foreboding, and a sense of innocence wronged. The characters’ sufferings are so acute that Adeline feels compelled at various points to stop reading. Moreover, the narrative acts so potently on The Power of Imagination for Adeline that she begins to perceive disturbances around her as potential threats—tapestries moved by wind, Peter’s calling for her, and the invisible sigh, among others. The interruption of her reading due to kidnapping leaves what seems, at the time, a loose end in the narrative. However, Adeline’s last night in the abbey parallels the prisoner’s last night in the abbey as well, another hint at a connection between the two, which Radcliffe will reveal as important later.

The twist of Theodore’s appearance, when Adeline fears capture instead, is another of the reversals that maintain the dramatic action. More importantly, his professed love and admiration for Adeline, his concern for her safety, and his insistence that her consent be freely rendered mark him as the hero of this romance. Their removal to what seems a place of refuge—where Adeline entertains the brief hope of real safety—allows opportunity for the romantic attachment to develop.