Notes for The Castle of Otranto (1764)

Horace Walpole (1717-1797), in his attempt to blend the wildness and imagination of the old romances with the probability required of the new fiction, invented the Gothic novel in one step with the Castle of Otranto. Influences or inspirations behind the book include a dream Walpole had, Gothic architecture, castles, old things in general, Aristotle’s Poetics (and the idea of pity and fear purging), Horace’s Art of Poetry, Shakespeare’s plays.

Preface to the First Edition

This preface serves as a frame in which Walpole pretends to be an objective, third party translator. The title page to the first edition reads, “The Castle of Otranto, A Story. Translated by William Marshal, Gent. From the Original Italian of Onuphrio Muralto, Canon of the Church of St. Nicholas at Otranto.” Many novels of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries contain frames similar to this because of the benefits they provide. These include:

• authenticity. For many years, fiction was distrusted. Why read a book that was not true? people would ask. True stories are somehow more compelling than fiction because “they really happened.” Thus, a common pose for novelists was to claim that the story was really true. Some explanation of the origin of the story or manuscript is given (its provenance). In the case of this preface, the “translator” fusses over the date of composition, the probable author, his motives, and so forth to create the impression that we are holding a genuine translation of a genuine document.
• authority. The “translator” supplies his own ethos (character and hence credibility) by revealing the characteristics of a careful scholar. He names the city of original publication, notes that the book was printed in “black letter,” and adds many other details that make him sound like a scholar. The use of details is one indicator of factuality and of carefulness. Vague or general accounts are usually deemed unreliable, while specific accounts are judged to be more credible and accurate. That is why journalists adopt the “journalistic pose,” giving many details in their accounts–the age of the victim, the caliber of the gun, the number of shots fired, and so forth. Thus, this detailed preface provides both a sense of authority for the supposed translator and an air of authenticity to the claim for the text.
• antiquity. The eighteenth century reader of the first edition is told that the book was first printed in 1529, while internal evidence in the story might place its writing “between 1095, the aera of the first crusade, and 1243, the date of the last, or not long afterwards.” The “translator,” however, rejects such an early date and asserts that stylistic evidence indicates a date “little antecedent to that of the impression.” This is a clever ploy. The generous reader will think the story perhaps as old as seven hundred years, while the reader who is cautiously conservative will still think the work two hundred years older than it really is. In the eighteenth century, just as today, there is value bias toward the old, the antique, the ancient story.
• artistic value. If you have ever read a review of a book before you bought it, you know the value of getting a third-party opinion. The author obviously thinks the work valuable, but that does not tell us much. If a third party recommends a work, that is of some use. Consequently, in some old novels the frames use “editors” of “found manuscripts” to produce a sense of third-party valuation of a work, whereas Walpole here shrewdly uses the pose of a translator. If someone valued a work enough to translate every word from one language to another, why then, perhaps it is worth reading.

Paragraphs 1-2. The manner and tone of the “translator” clearly indicate that this book is clearly worth studying, even though the reader “is not bound to believe” the supernatural events described.

Paragraph 3. Terror is “the author’s principal engine” for propelling the plot, while it is often “contrasted by pity.” See Aristotle’s Poetics: Tragedy uses pity and fear to purge those very emotions (Chapter 6).

Paragraph 5. The book is argued to be morally useful: “The piety that reigns throughout, the lessons of virtue that are inculcated, and the rigid purity of the sentiments, exempt this work from the censure to which romances are but too liable.” Compare Horace’s Art of Poetry: “Poets aim at giving either profit or delight, or at combining the giving of pleasure with some useful precepts for life” (Dorsch 90).

Paragraph 6. One last attempt is made to authenticate the narrative: “I cannot but believe that the groundwork of the story is founded on truth.”

Preface to the Second Edition

This might be called the literary preface, because in it Walpole not only admits the imposture of the first preface, but goes on explain his purpose. He says that he wanted to blend ancient and modern romance styles, to create a blending of imagination and probability, of mystery and nature. The remainder of the preface defends his use of comic scenes within the work. Walpole appeals to Shakespeare as justification. The contrast between serious and comic should heighten the serious scenes.

Plot Propulsion

The plot of a novel is the mechanism of movement that connects all the description, characterization, conversations, and even authorial intrusions. Plot or story might be called the nexus generator of the novel. But why, when we read The Castle of Otranto, do we get a sense of wildness to the plot, a sense of jet propulsion? What makes the book “a page turner”? The simple answer might be “suspense” or “mystery,” and that is correct, of course. But there are two other techniques Walpole uses.

• energizing diction. Otranto provides a wonderful text for studying how diction (choice of words) can affect many different facets of the reading experience. If you look at the article “Elements of the Gothic Novel,” you will see a number of word categories that contribute to various “Gothic” effects. Similarly, Walpole uses a set of energizing words to create a sense of speed and movement in the plot, even when the actual movement is small. These words include, among others:

• interrupted events. Often a new event or crisis will arrive before the current one is resolved, creating the effect of plot elements crashing hurriedly into each other. For example, Theodore’s conversation at the trap door with Isabella is interrupted by the arrival of Manfred; the conversation between Bianca and Matilda about Theodore is interrupted by news of Isabella; Theodore’s execution is stopped suddenly by Bianca’s screams; Manfred is cut off by a trumpet sound during an argument with Theodore.

Elements of Mystery

Within the first ten pages of the novel, we note the following inexplicable (and hence mysterious) behaviors on the part of Manfred:

• He dotes on his homely, poorly disposed son and does not care for his beautiful daughter.
• He is impatient for his young son to be married.
• He is more meditative than grieving over the death of his son.
• His first words after seeing his son crushed to death are “Take care of the lady Isabella.”
• He bursts into a “tempest of rage” at the suggestion that the giant helmet resembled the helmet on the statue of Alfonso the Good.
• He tells Isabella that he hopes “in a few years to have reason to rejoice at the death of Conrad” his son.
• He offers to marry Isabella immediately after his son is killed.
• He tells Isabella that his “fate depends on having sons.”

Several other mysterious events (the vague prophecy, the sighing portrait, and supernaturally waving plumes) are also connected with Manfred.

When some of the mysteries in the book are resolved (near the beginning of Chapter III), Walpole immediately introduces several new ones to keep the pages turning. Within a few pages the following events occur:

• Hippolita is rumored to be dead.
• Isabella is missing.
• A hundred men carry in an enormous sword.
• The plumes on the giant helmet agitate.
• The mysterious, silent knight prays in front of the giant helmet.
• The giant sword falls to the ground of its own accord.

Work Cited

Dorsch, T. S. tr. Classical Literary Criticism. Baltimore: Penguin, 1965.