I will detain the reader no longer, but to make one
short remark. Though the machinery is invention,
and the names of the actors imaginary, I cannot but
believe that the groundwork of the story is founded
on truth. The scene is undoubtedly laid in some
real castle. The author seems frequently, without
design, to describe particular parts. “The
chamber,” says he, “on the right hand;”
“the door on the left hand;” “the
distance from the chapel to Conrad’s apartment:”
these and other passages are strong presumptions that
the author had some certain building in his eye.
Curious persons, who have leisure to employ in such
researches, may possibly discover in the Italian writers
the foundation on which our author has built.
If a catastrophe, at all resembling that which he
describes, is believed to have given rise to this work,
it will contribute to interest the reader, and will
make the “Castle of Otranto” a still more
moving story.
SONNET TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY MARY COKE.
The gentle maid, whose hapless tale
These melancholy pages speak;
Say, gracious lady, shall she fail
To draw the tear adown thy cheek?
No; never was thy pitying breast
Insensible to human woes;
Tender, tho’ firm, it melts distrest
For weaknesses it never knows.
Oh! guard the marvels I relate
Of fell ambition scourg’d by fate,
From reason’s peevish blame.
Blest with thy smile, my dauntless sail
I dare expand to Fancy’s gale,
For sure thy smiles are Fame.
H. W.
CHAPTER I.
Manfred, Prince of Otranto, had one son and one daughter:
the latter, a most beautiful virgin, aged eighteen,
was called Matilda. Conrad, the son, was three
years younger, a homely youth, sickly, and of no promising
disposition; yet he was the darling of his father,
who never showed any symptoms of affection to Matilda.
Manfred had contracted a marriage for his son with
the Marquis of Vicenza’s daughter, Isabella;
and she had already been delivered by her guardians
into the hands of Manfred, that he might celebrate
the wedding as soon as Conrad’s infirm state
of health would permit.
Manfred’s impatience for this ceremonial was
remarked by his family and neighbours. The former,
indeed, apprehending the severity of their Prince’s
disposition, did not dare to utter their surmises on
this precipitation. Hippolita, his wife, an amiable
lady, did sometimes venture to represent the danger
of marrying their only son so early, considering his
great youth, and greater infirmities; but she never
received any other answer than reflections on her own
sterility, who had given him but one heir. His
tenants and subjects were less cautious in their discourses.
They attributed this hasty wedding to the Prince’s
dread of seeing accomplished an ancient prophecy,
which was said to have pronounced that the castle
and lordship of Otranto “should pass from the
present family, whenever the real owner should be
grown too large to inhabit it.” It was
difficult to make any sense of this prophecy; and still
less easy to conceive what it had to do with the marriage
in question. Yet these mysteries, or contradictions,
did not make the populace adhere the less to their
opinion.
