Clermont: A Tale in Four Volumes, Bound in One Volume

by Regina Maria Roche

Clermont is the story of Madeline, a porcelain doll of a Gothic heroine, who lives in seclusion from society with her father, Clermont, whose past is shrouded in mystery. One stormy night, their solitude is interrupted by a benighted traveller, a Countess who turns out to be a friend from Clermont's past.
Madeline goes to live with the Countess to receive her education, but her new idyllic life soon turns into a shocking nightmare. Ruffians attack the gentle Countess, and Madeline is assaulted in a gloomy crypt. And to make matters worse, a sinister stranger appears, threatening to reveal the bloody truth of Clermont's past unless Madeline marries him. Can she avoid the snares of her wily pursuers, solve the mystery of her father's past, and win the love of her dear De Sevignie?
This edition of Clermont includes the unabridged text of the novel, based on the first edition of 1798, as well as a new introduction and other supplementary materials.
About the Editor
Natalie Schroeder is Associate Professor of English at the University of Mississippi. She teaches courses in Victorian Literature, Dickens, and women's literature.

Genres: Gothic, Classics, Horror, Fiction, 18th Century, Historical Fiction, Literature

Hardcover

First published January 1, 1798

About the author

Regina Maria Dalton (1764–1845) married Ambrose Roche at Rathkyran in Kilkenny, in May 1792. She is considered today to be a minor Gothic novelist who wrote in the shadow of Ann Radcliffe. She was, however, a best seller in her own time. The popularity of her third novel, The Children of the Abbey, rivaled that of Ann Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho.
Her book Clermont was Roche’s only real attempt at writing a truly Gothic novel, and is decidedly darker in tone than anything else she wrote. Both novels went through several editions and were translated into both French and Spanish.
(source: Wikipedia)

Reviews

[Warren Fournier · Rating 2 out of 5]

I may be in the minority here, but I truly could not get into "Clermont." As exquisitely beautiful as it is written, the author really could have stood to have grown up a lot more before attempting this. I know she was not a child when she wrote the novel, but either she had the emotional maturity of a 15-year-old goth kid with borderline personality or she thought everyone in her audience were well-read infants.

This 1798 gothic romance has got all the trappings of a truly great cozy read for a wintery or rainy night. Spooky castles somberly overlooking dark woods full of legends and hauntings, a beautiful protagonist who falls in love and into a mystery, exquisitely crafted scenes of shadows gliding into dark corners of drafty chambers. In fact, this book is an absolute perfect representation of the gothic form dialed to eleven. And as such, all of the weaknesses inherit in the genre are also on full display to almost satirical proportions.

For example, let's take the so-called love interest for our main protagonist, Madeline. What on earth possesses her to fall head-over-heels with this putz? All he does is slink around the woods like a serial killer, feeling sorry for himself, playing his oboe to himself, being an absolute bore at parties, telling the women he meets that they intimidate him, lounging around for days taking advantage of other people like an invalid because he fell down like a toddler, and in general loafing and stalking about. He is cold and rude to Madeline, but then throws himself at her like a puppy, only to berate her for acting with surprise and confusion by his inexplicable bipolar and grating behavior.

Hmmm. Maybe this is more realistic than I thought. Let's apply this to a more modern-sounding character. Moody emo dude skulking around, a self-indulgently depressed loner without a job or purpose in life, spending his time on Twitter telling everyone how offensive and racist they are but then whining that he has no friends, playing shitty shoegaze music on his guitar by himself but close enough to his neighbors so that they can comment on what a pained artistic soul he is, yet somehow breaking out of his antisocial shell long enough to show up at all the best parties so that the popular kids know who he is. Yep. Sounds like the kind of guy we fathers just dread our teenage numbskull daughters are going to show up with one Thanksgiving.

Are the rest of the characters any better? Not one bit. Everyone we meet leads very privileged lives of luxury, yet ends up acting like they suffer more than anyone has ever suffered. If this book enjoyed popularity at one point, it was only because it was marketed to wealthy readers who could afford to sit around their library or lounge in the gardens with a book while the servants brought tea and sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Otherwise, I can't imagine who could get emotionally moved by such superficial tripe.

And the gossiping and secrets! Good lord! I'm so glad this trend in storytelling was finally done away with by the more gritty and satirical writings of the 1920s and beyond. You know what I'm talking about. Everyone is going around keeping things from each other. Madeline's father has a secret and won't tell his daughter. Her boyfriend has secrets. Madeline herself won't share how she truly feels with anyone. Even the maid knows what the hell is going on and is dying to tell, but Madeline tells her that wouldn't be proper, but then Madeline tears her hair out all night long wishing she knew the secrets. The Countess de Merville seems to know everyone's secrets and brags about it. Take this example of literary genius:

One night, while lounging around after a party (for that is what mostly happens in this book), the Countess tells Madeline to stop trying to find out about her father's past. Well, to be honest, Madeline wasn't really trying to find out anything--she was too busy acting like a wallflower during countless cotillions. But the Countess chastises her anyway, telling her that if "...the dark volume of your father's fate ever opened to your view, peace would for ever forsake your breast; for its characters are marked by horror, and stained with blood."

Now, is that supposed to be designed to quench Madeline's curiosity? Or simply feed it?

"I know something you don't know!"
"Good for you."
"It's about your dad."
"Oh really."
"Yep. And it's awful. I mean really awful."
"Uh huh."
"You mean you don't know?"
"No."
"Geez. I mean this could change everything for you."
"Really? What is it then?"
"How dare you for asking!"
"Uhh... I'm sorry?"
"Look, I can understand you wanting to know, but believe me, you don't!"
"Ok, sorry for asking."
"I mean, you REALLY don't wanna know."
"That's cool."
"Look, just lay off, all right? Stop asking so many questions! It's for your own good!"

Seriously, I sometimes wondered if Roche didn't mean for "Clermont" to be some kind of parody, because it is far too often unintentionally hilarious.

"But Warren," I hear you protest, "this is a gothic novel! They all are kind of like that." Well, you may be right, and perhaps that is why this is not my favorite genre. But I've read my fair share of them, and I find this one to be most egregious with the hysterical swooning and fretting and blushing and primping and sobbing and fainting.

This book was originally published by Minerva Press, an establishment often criticized in it's day for contributing to a quantitative, not qualitative, surplus of literature. At first I didn't understand the problem--it seemed a bunch of wealthy white male academics were in a panic that literacy was being made popular and spread to women and the middle classes. But after reading "Clermont," I can say that the concern maybe had some merit. It's a good thing to introduce accessible literature to a wider audience and promote the joy of reading and learning in the lives of more people where it had once been denied, just as it is a good thing to feed the starving. However, it's another thing if you are feeding people with something that is not nutritious. I'm not saying "Clermont" is garbage at all. But I am saying that it is candy. And I can't help but wonder if the gothic craise was an early example of candy being fed to the masses like Skittles to milking cows.

Let's not forget that we are able to read and criticize "Clermont" today because Jane Austin made a fitting tribute out of such fare with "Northanger Abby," which includes a list of gothic novels, including "Clermont," now known collectively as the "Horrid Novels." This renewed interest in the gothic by the 1920s no doubt helped evolve popular literature from the penny dreadful to the serial magazine stories, the dime novel, the pulps, and mass-market paperbacks. Surely without books like "Clermont" we would not have Paperbacks from Hell, or hard-boiled mysteries and thrillers, or Harlequin romances, or the millions of books that you and I love to get our hands on today. For that, books like "Clermont" should be praised, but for all it's poetic aspirations, archaic nomenclature, and flowery language, let's not forget what it is. Candy.

And for me, "Clermont" was not a Heath bar or a Cella cherry or an ultra-stuffed Reese's Christmas tree. This tasted more like stale circus peanuts or that weird tasteless taffy that would only show up in your trick or treat bag during the 70s and 80s.

But if you like gothic literature, this may be just up your alley. Reprinted by Valancourt Books, I have enjoyed many of the other Minerva Press resurrections that Valancourt has brought back to modern readers, such as "The Animated Skeleton," and in many ways, I got a kick out of "Clermont" too. But overall, it just wasn't for me.

[Arnstein · Rating 3 out of 5]

An 18th century romantic drama with allusions to the contemporary views on mental health; its proportions borders on the epic, with a plethora of secrets that needs to be revealed before Clermont can truly be unveiled.

Clermont was one of the bestselling romances of the late 18th century, with several translations and re-releases promptly following its initial release on the then infamous Minerva press. It was one of Roche's two greatest successes, the other being The Children of the Abbey, which was written two years prior. For some reason her later works had no notable success, and so while the fame of her authorship was great it was also brief. And even Clermont, despite being a big thing in its day, had fallen so much into forgetfulness by the start of the 20th century that then when Jane Austen's famous list of recommended Gothic novels – also known as the Northanger horrid seven, so named after the novel Northanger Abbey in which the list was originally presented, and where Clermont was one of the novels mentioned – was examined and given interpretations by the literarians, they did not agree on whether or not the novel had even existed. In more recent years there has been a movement whereby old works of written art have been copied, from libraries dedicated to their preservation, and once again set to print for today's readers to enjoy. Fortunately, Clermont is one of these works who has gotten the chance of a revival.

We follow the trials of Madeline, a young girl of marrying age. She has thus far spent her life in relative seclusion near the French Alps. This seclusion is on the insistence of her father, a secretive and troubled man who goes by the name of Clermont. His given name, if he at all has one, is known to no one but himself, and his strong bouts of melancholy often force him on long solitary ramblings in the woods. Even Madeline, his own daughter and his greatest joy below Heaven, is kept in the dark by him, knowing naught about his past before her birth nor the origins of his laments. There is also the curious absence of her mother, who Clermont refuses to speak or hear mention of. Nevertheless, Madeline's life is a happy one, with her loving father and the poetic beauties of nature that surrounds her, she feels her life is in a state of bliss.

But then a young man by the name of de Sevigne visits the woods, a handsome and well-mannered young man, the kind which a young and virtuous woman like Madeline cannot help but take note of. Yet, despite that the conduct of de Sevigne is one that deserves the highest praises, Clermont does not wish him close to his daughter. Madeline's attempts to figure out this strange behaviour is cut short by a second accidental visit, this time by none other than the Countess de Merville, who it turns out is pleased to recognize her old friend, Clermont. She offers to take Madeline home to her own castle to present her to the society and to give her the experiences of the world that her seclusion had thus far denied her. And so it is settled, Madeline sets out to reside in the Castle de Merville, where further mysteries and even real dangers await. Her's is to be a tale of more woes and tears than that of pleasures.

Depression is one of the tale's most prevalent features. Nearly every character suffers from attacks of prolonged and crippling melancholy, sometimes having to be confined to their beds as they are too weakened to leave them. Roche did herself suffer from such malady, at times forcing her to take absence from her writing, sometimes for years. Having had personal experience with these things it is perhaps only natural for her to transfer some of it to her writing. With that in mind, it is not unlikely that we are here treated to views of mental illness from a past culture, making Clermont perhaps a more important historical document than one might initially suspect. This reviewer will however refrain from any interpretations in order to preserve brevity.

At the point in time that Clermont was written there was still a sense of novelty surrounding the young genre known as Gothic, and its popularity was substantial. Not surprisingly, many authors of the time found the inspiration to inject elements of Gothic into the most popular of all contemporary genres: the romance novel. Roche's Clermont is an exemplar of precisely such an injection, where the majestic castles and their hauntings become but scenery, in front of which is displayed a diversity of intrigues pertaining to the heart. For the reader this has obvious implications, the most major of which would be the fact that this kind of novel will not appeal to the Gothic literate. (Although, granted, the very same person might also be a romance digester and so still see an appeal, though of a different kind.) In particular the supernatural element tends to suffer from this shift of focus, and even then Clermont is more spectrally impoverished than most. As such, to bracket it as Gothic in genre is misleading since the potential reader would then likely expect to find a more haunting tale than a romance that just happens to contain the appropriate architecture.

Vast excesses of politeness characterize Roche's language, which close to doubles the length of any given utterance by the characters. Also their highly theatrical performance will often be considered overdramatized by today's standards, which again prolongs the text. Additional extensions include superfluous reiterations of the characters emotions, often using several paragraphs detailing their fears and then repeating these descriptions in no fewer words when those fears come true. One thousand fifty-nine pages did the original printing stretch, and this would likely have been shortened by at least two hundred pages if a current editor was to get his or her hands on it. It's one of those issues that made sense two centuries ago and which now cannot be dispatched of unless we also shed the impression of the age in which it was created; today's readers are simply going to have to be forgiving if they are to enjoy this tale.

This review is based on the Gale ECCO Print Editions' reproduction of the novels first pressing, then portioned into four volumes by the Minerva press. The print is based on microfilm photographs of the original work, which means that the reproduction looks as similar to the original books as it is possible to get. This allows the reader to experience the novel as if he or she was back in 1798, enabling the feeling of history to accompany the read. These reproductions are not always without flaws and volume one does have a total of four words which are obscured due to ink spots, also there are two cases of swapped pages in volume two; otherwise the volumes are perfectly intact with no loss of legibility. Should one rather wish for a remade, and thus flawless, printing then Valancourt's edition, with its detailed and well-researched introduction, would be recommended.

Clermont may be a patience demanding and long read, and it may not be the Gothic tale many would hope for, but as a romance it still shines bright. Its surprisingly well made plot is likely to have been the source of its success back in its time, and it is likely to be its main selling point now as well.

[Currer Jean · Rating 5 out of 5]

This review cannot come at a more perfect time because not only did I finish a brillisnt classic but I am writing a review for it on my spankin' new laptop. Clermont was one of the mos beautiful books I haveever read. The emotions, the character, the plot development was all carried out in such an honest, wholesome, and at times terrifying ways that it made you genuinely afraid and at the same time hooked on the edge of your seat wondering if evil will really triumph over good. I can understand (though not relate) with the people who don't like Clermont. This book is a wonderful preservation of a time period and it's themes can, at times, be a little cheesy but it is a fondu pot that makes you feel good inide. For any history buff, horror freak, and girl,this book brigd terror and deceit onto a beautiful backdrop of laurestine that will have you picking out spots of a time period that is often covered inaccurately.
I can'texplain why this book mde me so happy and so sad to finish. Maybe it was getting to know such full characters and following them on journeys or the twisting plots and dangerous passage ways that trapped me, whatever it was this book held my attention and at times had me wishing that it would never end. If you are a true fan of origiinal horror,which was far from the bloody spoofs we see today, then this is the perfect book for you. It certaintly was for me.

[Sotiris Karaiskos · Rating 5 out of 5]

Of the seven Horrid Novels of Northanger Abbey, this one was the one that gave me the best promises, and these promises were finally kept as it turned out to be a great Gothic novel. The author, of course, tries very hard to imitate the style of Ann Radcliffe but in contrast to several cases at that time she manages to do it successfully.

The beginning is very reminiscent of The Mysteries of Udolpho, as we come in contact with the typical heroine of the genre who lives in an idyllic natural environment until the mysteries of her own past invade and upset her and lead her to darker surroundings (yes, she does the same with Ann Radcliffe, using descriptions of nature to emphasize the psychology of heroes). From there we are led to a fascinating mystery story with the classic background of castles that have experienced better days and the classic cast of protagonists that we encounter the novels of the genre.

In the end, everything resolves and the reader of the special category who appreciates Ann Radcliffe's books is satisfied with the thought that he has read something good. Of course there are several drawbacks to the genre, such as being overly emotional and supporting the whole plot in a series of coincidences, drawbacks that are not missing from this book, but I feel that there is a restraint in the first - for example the heroines faint less. - while the author includes the second in the Christian message that she wants to pass that in the end divine providence will bring justice.

So it's a book that fans of the genre will appreciate, with the rest filled with indignation. What is certain is that my strange choice to look for these seven novels has now been justified.

Από τα επτά Horrid Novels του Northanger Abbey αυτό εδώ ήταν που μου έδινε τις καλύτερες υποσχέσεις και τελικά αυτές οι υποσχέσεις τηρήθηκαν καθώς τελικά πρόκειται για ένα εξαιρετικό γοτθικό μυθιστόρημα. Η συγγραφέας, βέβαια, προσπαθεί με ιδιαίτερο ζήλο να μιμηθεί το στυλ της Ann Radcliffe αλλά σε αντίθεση με αρκετές περιπτώσεις εκείνη την εποχή καταφέρνει να το κάνει με επιτυχία.

Το ξεκίνημα θυμίζει πάρα πολύ το The Mysteries of Udolpho, καθώς ερχόμαστε σε επαφή με τη χαρακτηριστική ηρωίδα του είδους που ζει σε ένα ειδυλλιακό φυσικό περιβάλλον, μέχρι τα μυστήρια του παρελθόντος των δικών της να εισβάλουν και να την αναστατώσει και να την οδηγήσει σε πιο σκοτεινά περιβάλλοντα (ναι, κάνει το ίδιο με την Ann Radcliffe, χρησιμοποιώντας τις περιγραφές της φύσης για να δώσει έμφαση στην ψυχολογία των ηρώων). Από εκεί και πέρα οδηγούμαστε σε μία συναρπαστική ιστορία μυστηρίου με το κλασικό φόντο των κάστρων που έχουν γνωρίσει και καλύτερες μέρες και το κλασικό καστ πρωταγωνιστών που συναντάμε τα μυθιστορήματα του είδους.

Στο τέλος όλα ξεδιαλύνονται και ο αναγνώστης της ειδικής κατηγορίας που εκτιμάει τα βιβλία της Ann Radcliffe μένει ικανοποιημένο με τη σκέψη ότι διάβασε κάτι καλό. Φυσικά υπάρχουν αρκετά μειονεκτήματα στο είδος, όπως ο υπέρμετρος συναισθηματισμός και το στήριγμα όλης της πλοκής σε μία σειρά συμπτώσεων, μειονεκτήματα που δεν λείπουν και από αυτό εδώ το βιβλίο, νιώθω, όμως, ότι υπάρχει μία αυτοσυγκράτηση στον πρώτο - για παράδειγμα οι ηρωίδες λιποθυμούν λιγότερο - ενώ το δεύτερο η συγγραφέας το εντάσσει στο χριστιανικό μήνυμα που θέλει να περάσει και που θέλει στο τέλος η θεία πρόνοια να φέρνει τη δικαιοσύνη.

Οπότε είναι ένα βιβλίο που οι φανατικοί του είδους θα το εκτιμήσουν, με τους υπόλοιπους να γεμίζουν από αγανάκτηση. Το σίγουρο είναι ότι πλέον δικαιολογήθηκε η περίεργη επιλογή μου να αναζητήσω αυτά τα επτά μυθιστορήματα.

[CheshRCat]

Virtuous maidens! Gothic mansions! Dark secrets! Mysterious noises in the night, wicked and lustful gentlemen, gossipy servant girls, grottos and cloisters and handsome young men who wander around the alps playing the oboe! How could anyone dislike this book?

One thing: Madeline, sweetheart.... Contrary to what you might think, women are allowed to ask questions. You are allowed to learn stuff. Sometimes it's useful, yeah? Just a thought. Also, contemplating the possibility of eavesdropping, then not actually doing it, is not even the tiniest bit wicked. It's really not. And don't you think it's a bit rich of your father to tell you off when you confess the next morning, considering that he....well, anyway. I'm just saying. Also, isn't De Sevignie your cousin? I mean, all those relationships are really complex, so it's possible I missed something, but the two of you are related, right? I guess Paul Clifford did the same thing, but that doesn't make it any more advisable.

[Lady Tea · Rating 4 out of 5]

Second Read Rating: 4.35 / 5

Okay, so, still the same rating, but at least now I understand the book better, as well as the genre, and I've figured out the right way to read your typical Romantic Gothic novel: through emotion. Because, just as the Romantic Era thrived on emotion and nature and raw feelings, so the plot of the story proceeds. In terms of logic, there is some, but it's obvious from the get-go that the story is driven by emotion and the need to be in dramatic and dire situations, one after the other.

Some things, like Madeline constantly fainting (which I personally think so real woman would do unless she had a medical condition) took away from the seriousness of the situations for me. Granted, at some times (but these were the minimum), like when she thought that she might actually die, then it made sense to faint. Heck, if someone approached me with a knife or gun or something, who's to say that I wouldn't do the same? But just because she's overcome by emotion...?


However, that being said, I will repeat again that I do really like this novel. I wouldn't have read it twice if I didn't. It's a really good foray into the genre of Romantic Gothic fiction for me, and encourages me to give novels like The Mysteries of Udolpho another chance for when I'm feeling in need of naturesque seclusion. It's given me a new perspective, for sure, and a better way of appreciating the Romantics. I will be doing so again in the future, to be sure, which is quite a change from the first time I read this book.

Guess sometimes we just need to feel, right?


Rating: 4.35 / 5

Last year, upon finishing Uncle Silas and The Woman in White and The Monk, I was able to conclude that the genre best suited to my tastes and preferences is the Gothic genre. Now, I would like to specify further by saying that the genre most suited to my tastes is the Victorian Gothic genre only.

The reading of Clermont has convinced me of this because it is, simply put, a Romantic Gothic novel, and that is quite different from a Victorian Gothic novel, which is what I have read thus far--The Monk is the exception of this, as there are too many demonic references for it to really be "Romantic" in the sense of either the era or the word, ergo the French Revolution influence on the author (research needed here, but oh well).

In the Victorian Gothic novel, what I love apart from the Gothic elements is that the main characters are rational in some way or another, and there is still a sense of realism to their characters and dialogues, even though the scenarios that they face are sinister.

In the Romantic Gothic novel however, not only is the language and entire narrative very melodramatic and emotional (as is characteristic of Romanticism as a movement), but everything is extremely complicated and involves a secret or other that is discovered only via horrible means. The emotional involvement, dramatics, poetic lamentations--all of it is not only cheesy by today's standards, but unrealistic overall. (Not that Gothic novels strive towards realism, I know, but practicality is a necessity for a protagonist, I think, otherwise the reader will be unable to enjoy the story and instead feel the need to criticize said protagonist's bad decisions and personality.)

To sum up what I didn't like about this novel would be to sum up all of its Romantic points:

The whole "damsel in distress" thing happening to an unfortunate, innocent girl, wherein she's constantly going "woe is me" and relies on others to get her out of the situation instead of thinking for herself


The archetype of evil villains having the simple and undeveloped motivations of avarice and lust just because (I'm fine with these in general, but I NEED them to be psychologically developed in complex ways, like, say, Ambrosio in The Monk!)


The "coincidental" meetings of the main characters who should be together and very much want to be, but they just "CAN'T"


However, for all that I'm making fun of it, I actually did enjoy this novel as a whole. What's interesting is that even while the book doesn't function through the lens of Clermont as a character, the story really is his in that it centers around his past, his family, his actions, etc. Madeline, his daughter and the protagonist, is just, if you will, the unfortunate child who must "pay for the sins of the father", as it were. (Meaning, in this case, that the unfortunate stuff keeps happening to her.)

The story did indeed move slowly, but I was interested in what was happening all throughout everything, and enjoyed the writing style when it was basing description and not overly poetic fiddle-faddle. The soliloquies of sorrow and joy and other strong emotions were readable with a kind of skepticism behind what I was reading, and I did enjoy the characters for what they were, even though it was only Clermont himself whom I found particularly complex--and even then, between him and, say, Jean Valjean, I'd obviously choose the latter as being more interesting.

I couldn't tell where the plot was going to go exactly, but my guesses were pretty close. As a reader exposed to postmodern literature and criticism at length though, I suppose that this wasn't fully avoidable any which way you put it. Still, with all these things in mind, I did enjoy it, and could see why Austen referenced it in Northanger Abbey.

Like Austen though, I think it's just an itty-bitty bit more fun to make fun of the Romantic-Gothic elements of this book than to take them seriously though. But, all in all, a pleasant and charming read, one that I will be reading again at some time in the future.

[Kieran Walsh · Rating 3 out of 5]

One of the seven ‘horrid novels’ that Isabella Thorpe and Catherine Moreland alluded to in Austen’s Northanger Abbey, Clermont is an interesting take on the Radcliffean Gothic novel. I was tempted to pick this one up not only because of the JA connection but because Maria Regina Roche was an Irish writer that is probably so obscure now most people have never heard of her.

The story is text book gothic in that its formula includes dark castles, despicable characters, gloomy weather, poetic landscapes and tragic (and beautiful) heroines! I do believe, however, that Austen might have genuinely studied the book and used its framework for certain characters in NA. Catherine Moreland’s initials are reversed in Madeline Clermont. Henry Tillney and Henri DeSevignie share the same first name – both gentlemen acting as the perfect (ie, textbook) heroes. Interestingly I think Austen probably watered down her novel so as to make it more palatable to the public. I was taken aback by Roche’s ability to write about the depth of human depravity in contemporary popular literature. While death (murder) scenes tend not to be ‘gory’ the context around them are pretty bone chilling. There’s murder in a crypt, servants being poisoned (slowly), countess de Merville hiding Madeline so as to avoid her being raped by her husband etc. I’m not sure Austen could have gotten away with all the violence. Roche, however, is guilty of packing Clermont with lots of characters, oddly related to eachother in some way. The story has a tendency to get a little confusing, however.
Roche’s characters, for the most part, are very one dimensional and they wear their nefarious machinations on their sleeves (one or two exceptions). You know what you can expect when you are introduced to them. There’s a glaring competition of good versus evil that gets a little tired after a while.
I have to admire her ability to keep rolling out the action and adventure. Everybody has a history (also making it a little difficult to read). Good people die. Evil people are forgiven and there’s less of a moral at the end of it – more of a ‘dang, that girl sure got herself into some serious trouble along the way’. While Northanger Abbey is rather anti climatic in its gothic formula Clermont keeps the reader entertained.
Parts made me laugh, however (aside from atrocious spelling). Claude Clermont was as useless a provider (father) as you could find. His sniffling mea culpas and attempts to amend for the past were rather pathetic. Henri De Sevignie’s appearance, flitting in and out of the story, playing melancholy tunes on the oboe and breaking hearts was rather cringe worthy.
All in all, worth a read for those Eighteenth Century gothic novel aficionados who might enjoy a subtle connection with one of the most famous English writers of all time!

[Melissa · Rating 4 out of 5]

A gothic novel first published in 1798, Clermont is every bit as "twisty" as all these modern thrillers. Unlike them, however, the author was somehow able to tie up every last one of her seemingly endless loose ends. Kudos to her; the woman must have written with a spreadsheet in front of her!

[Andrius · Rating 3 out of 5]

As expected for an 18th century Gothic novel, Clermont is overlong, meandering, weirdly structured, but also occasionally atmospheric and generally very comfy to read. Almost nothing really happens in the first half of the book, and to be honest I really loved that -- this is the closest a Gothic novel has come to that true slice-of-life feel for me. The story itself is pretty fun and exciting too once you get to it, but also there's nothing really exceptional there. I enjoyed my time with it, but it's not really essential Gothic reading, unless you really love the vibe of the early Gothics.

[Dan · Rating 3 out of 5]

In Jane Austen's "Northanger Abbey," one of the characters rattles off the name of seven Gothic novels as a proposed reading list. Her friend asks, "...but are they all horrid, are you sure they are all horrid?" About 15 years ago Valencourt Press decided to reprint these novels, labeling them as the "Northanger Abbey Horrid Novels." Each novel comes with a preface written by an academic specialist. This book also has a notes section with citations of the various poetic works referenced.

Clermont is the first of the Northanger Horrid Novels that I have read. I have also read Roche's "Children of the Abbey," only because it was mentioned in Austen's "Emma." Unlike Robert Martin, I have indeed read "Romance of the Forest" and "Children of the Abbey." I don't remember much about "Children of the Abbey," other than that it took me forever to get through it. Roche's sentences are overlong and needlessly complicated. It's as if she's been allocated a fixed number of periods, so she throws in colons and semicolons in their stead. I gave "Children of the Abbey" 5 stars in my review, which was probably overly generous. I was unfamiliar not only with the gothic genre, but also other novels of that period. I still have only scratched the surface of novels of that period, but I think I have a better sense of their tropes.

Natlie Schroeder, Professor of English at Ole Miss, wrote the preface for "Clermont." She makes the argument that "Clermont" is basically a cheap copy of Ann Radcliff's "Mysteries of Udolpho," which is also heavily referenced in Austen's "Northanger Abbey." I gave "Mysteries of Udolpho" two stars, which was probably overly harsh. I rightly criticized Radcliff's literary style, but didn't give her enough credit for an action-packed plot, absurd as it may be. Clermont's plot somewhat mimics Udolpho, but isn't as elaborate (although it is still rather far-fecthed). Schroeder's preface makes the good point that Clermont has more gore than Udolpho, whose mysteries are usually of the Scooby-Doo variety.

I'm starting to think that Gothic novels should be thought of as the Romance novels of their day. If one looks past their sensational parts, one can ferret out real concerns that the authors are grappling with. In Clermont, the would-be hero alternates between red-hot passion and cruel apathy. His behavior is explained away by the author in the end, but the takeaway is that dudes with commitment problems aren't a modern problem; they were a real phenomenon 225 years ago.

A mainstay of gothic novels is an odious man who demands sex from the heroine, usually, but not always in the form a marriage. Rape is always a possibility. The heroine's right of refusal is pushed to its outer extremity. She has the nominal right to say no, but society won't back her up. The judicial system is under the control of the rich and powerful. If the heroine has friends, they are just as likely to tell her to give into the man's demands as they are to give her moral support. The plots of gothic novels are outlandish but the underlying problem they deal with is all too real: women are at the mercy of men who have too much power over every facet of their lives.

[Rhys-Marie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Clermont is an enjoyable though flawed example of the sort of Gothic novel that was eminently popular in the late eighteenth century. Like The Mysteries of Udolpho this novel includes a beautiful, innocent heroine, fearsome castles, and mysterious secrets in the lives of those the heroine holds dear. Neither story is perfect in its execution, but something about Udolpho made it stand out to me, something in which Clermont seemed lacking. Perhaps the issue was Clermont’s heroine, Madeline Clermont. Though similar to Emily St. Aubert, I sympathized with Emily and had no patience with the too-perfect Madeline. If you asked the people in Madeline’s life, they would probably say she never had a wrong thought, word, or deed. Of course it’s good to have characters that readers can look up to, but none of us are without sin, and I think writers ought to portray that in literature.

The other characters were no better. If you thought Valancourt was disappointingly unmanly, then de Sevignie is not the romantic hero for you. I could never understand what Madeline saw in him, and I was relieved that he was absent for so much of the novel. Most of the side characters fall into the not-very-nuanced categories of flawless saints, avaricious villains, or repentant former villains. The only slightly interesting character is Clermont, Madeline’s father.

Although there are some parts that are dripping with Gothic atmosphere, Clermont’s writing style in general disappointed me. It wasn’t bad—and it wasn’t overburdened with commas like Udolpho—but it was rather plain for an eighteenth century novel. Ann Radcliffe’s prose made even the slowest portions of her novels a pleasure to read, but unfortunately that’s not the case in Clermont.

However, I did find one significant aspect of Roche’s novel to be superior to all the other Gothic novels I’ve read from this time period. Though implausible, the mystery of Madeline’s father’s early life is immaculately plotted. I was spellbound as each layer of secrets unraveled.

I’m glad I took the time to read Clermont. Even though some parts—especially the beginning—were slow, the Gothic atmosphere in the middle of the story is worth the tedium. However, I don’t think I’ll read any of Regina Maria Roche’s other novels anytime soon, especially since this one is apparently her only true Gothic novel.

[Tracey Madeley · Rating 5 out of 5]

Regina Maria Roche is perhaps best known for her novel Children of the Abbey, but many readers will know Clermont as one of the ‘horrid novels’ listed in Northanger Abbey.

This book not only has all the elements of a good gothic novel, fear, mystery, treachery, castles, dark landscapes and a persecuted heroine, but also a complex web of inter-relationships. Clermont was originally christened Lausane and became St Julian when he came into his title. The antagonists Monsieur D’Alembert are father and son, with the latter also assuming the name Dupont. The servants do not change names, but their testimony can be deceptive and unreliable. It is only in the final chapters that motivations and relationships are revealed, and the truth is known.

Clermont has a secret that he wishes to hide from his daughter and the rest of the world. The novel not only contains secret passages and hidden compartments but also personal secrets that the characters choose to hide. The exception is Madeline, the innocent heroine and daughter of Clermont.

As part of Lane’s Minerva Press, Roche was as popular and successful as Ann Radcliffe, but today remains less well known.

[Helen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Practically hundreds of Gothic novels came out from 1790 to about 1820-1823. This novel is really outstanding amongst them. And all of this author's novels are very good. This is a very sweet and moving story, a book which you don't leave on your shelf if you don't finish it first. One of my best purchases ever!

[Gilbert · Rating 3 out of 5]

Another gothic very similar in style and structure to the first six of this set of novels. Gets boring reading the same basic story time and again.

[Lorri · Rating 2 out of 5]

The tale is in four parts. Part one is pastoral with mysterious overtones. Part two branches out with new people in new places and some more mysteries. In part three, more mysterious events take place and a few mysteries are partially revealed. Almost all the important action takes place in part four and almost all the explanations are in its final chapter.

[Monica · Rating 4 out of 5]

Definitely one of the better Gothic novels I've read

[Jossalyn]

for Jane Austen book club, Feb mtg- was unable to manage more than half the book. excruciating to read.

[Hannah Kelly · Rating 2 out of 5]

Started out interesting but drug on and became convoluted by the end.

[Naticia · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love Gothic romances. The end.