Walpole - The castle of Otranto: a Gothic story

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Castle of Otranto, by Horace Walpole(#1 in our series by Horace Walpole)Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check thecopyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributingthis or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this ProjectGutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit theheader without written permission.Please read the "legal small print," and other information about theeBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included isimportant information about your specific rights and restrictions inhow the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make adonation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts****eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971*******These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****Title: The Castle of OtrantoAuthor: Horace WalpoleRelease Date: October, 1996 [EBook #696][This file was first posted on October 22, 1996][Most recently updated: September 8, 2002]Edition: 10Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: ASCII

Transcribed from the 1901 Cassell andCompany edition by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
The following work was found in the library of an ancient Catholicfamily in the north of England. It was printed at Naples, inthe black letter, in the year 1529. How much sooner it waswritten does not appear. The principal incidents are such aswere believed in the darkest ages of Christianity; but the languageand conduct have nothing that savours of barbarism. The styleis the purest Italian.
If the story was written near the time when it is supposed to havehappened, it must have been between 1095, the era of the firstCrusade, and 1243, the date of the last, or not longafterwards. There is no other circumstance in the work thatcan lead us to guess at the period in which the scene is laid: thenames of the actors are evidently fictitious, and probablydisguised on purpose: yet the Spanish names of the domestics seemto indicate that this work was not composed until the establishmentof the Arragonian Kings in Naples had made Spanish appellationsfamiliar in that country. The beauty of the diction, and thezeal of the author (moderated, however, by singular judgment)concur to make me think that the date of the composition was littleantecedent to that of the impression. Letters were then intheir most flourishing state in Italy, and contributed to dispelthe empire of superstition, at that time so forcibly attacked bythe reformers. It is not unlikely that an artful priest mightendeavour to turn their own arms on the innovators, and might availhimself of his abilities as an author to confirm the populace intheir ancient errors and superstitions. If this was his view,he has certainly acted with signal address. Such a work asthe following would enslave a hundred vulgar minds beyond half thebooks of controversy that have been written from the days of Lutherto the present hour.
This solution of the authors motives is, however, offered as amere conjecture. Whatever his views were, or whatever effectsthe execution of them might have, his work can only be laid beforethe public at present as a matter of entertainment. Even assuch, some apology for it is necessary. Miracles, visions,necromancy, dreams, and other preternatural events, are explodednow even from romances. That was not the case when our authorwrote; much less when the story itself is supposed to havehappened. Belief in every kind of prodigy was so establishedin those dark ages, that an author would not be faithful to themanners of the times, who should omit all mention of them. Heis not bound to believe them himself, but he must represent hisactors as believing them.
If this air of the miraculous is excused, the reader will findnothing else unworthy of his perusal. Allow the possibilityof the facts, and all the actors comport themselves as personswould do in their situation. There is no bombast, no similes,flowers, digressions, or unnecessary descriptions. Everythingtends directly to the catastrophe. Never is the readersattention relaxed. The rules of the drama are almost observedthroughout the conduct of the piece. The characters are welldrawn, and still better maintained. Terror, the authorsprincipal engine, prevents the story from ever languishing; and itis so often contrasted by pity, that the mind is kept up in aconstant vicissitude of interesting passions.
Some persons may perhaps think the characters of the domestics toolittle serious for the general cast of the story; but besides theiropposition to the principal personages, the art of the author isvery observable in his conduct of the subalterns. Theydiscover many passages essential to the story, which could not bewell brought to light but by their navet andsimplicity. In particular, the womanish terror and foibles ofBianca, in the last chapter, conduce essentially towards advancingthe catastrophe.
It is natural for a translator to be prejudiced in favour of hisadopted work. More impartial readers may not be so muchstruck with the beauties of this piece as I was. Yet I am notblind to my authors defects. I could wish he had groundedhis plan on a more useful moral than this: that the sins offathers are visited on their children to the third and fourthgeneration. I doubt whether, in his time, any more than atpresent, ambition curbed its appetite of dominion from the dread ofso remote a punishment. And yet this moral is weakened bythat less direct insinuation, that even such anathema may bediverted by devotion to St. Nicholas. Here the interest ofthe Monk plainly gets the better of the judgment of theauthor. However, with all its faults, I have no doubt but theEnglish reader will be pleased with a sight of thisperformance. The piety that reigns throughout, the lessons ofvirtue that are inculcated, and the rigid purity of the sentiments,exempt this work from the censure to which romances are but tooliable. Should it meet with the success I hope for, I may beencouraged to reprint the original Italian, though it will tend todepreciate my own labour. Our language falls far short of thecharms of the Italian, both for variety and harmony. Thelatter is peculiarly excellent for simple narrative. It isdifficult in English to relate without falling too low or risingtoo high; a fault obviously occasioned by the little care taken tospeak pure language in common conversation. Every Italian orFrenchman of any rank piques himself on speaking his own tonguecorrectly and with choice. I cannot flatter myself withhaving done justice to my author in this respect: his style is aselegant as his conduct of the passions is masterly. It is apity that he did not apply his talents to what they were evidentlyproper for - the theatre.
I will detain the reader no longer, but to make one shortremark. Though the machinery is invention, and the names ofthe actors imaginary, I cannot but believe that the groundwork ofthe story is founded on truth. The scene is undoubtedly laidin some real castle. The author seems frequently, withoutdesign, to describe particular parts. The chamber, says he,on the right hand; the door on the left hand; the distancefrom the chapel to Conrads apartment: these and other passagesare strong presumptions that the author had some certain buildingin his eye. Curious persons, who have leisure to employ insuch researches, may possibly discover in the Italian writers thefoundation on which our author has built. If a catastrophe,at all resembling that which he describes, is believed to havegiven rise to this work, it will contribute to interest the reader,and will make the Castle of Otranto a still more movingstory.
SONNET TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY MARY COKE.
The gentle maid, whose hapless tale