The Facets of Otranto Draft Ver2

{<! -- :: Start -->  (set: $typewriterText to " “Old castles, old pictures, old histories, and the babble of old people make one live back into centuries that cannot disappoint one. One holds fast and surely what is past.” - Horace Walpole ")   <! -- :: Typewriter --> {  (set: $typewriterPos to 1)  |typewriterOutput>[]  (live: 20ms)[  (append: ?typewriterOutput)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)]  (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1)  (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (stop:) ] ] } } [[<img style= "width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/opening.gif" alt="There is a gif of the viewer moving through a darkened forest." width="1000" height="1000">->title card]] { (track: 'piano', 'volume', 0.05) (track: 'piano', 'loop', true) (track: 'piano', 'playwhenpossible') } { (track: 'footsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'footsteps', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'wind', 'loop', true) (track: 'wind', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'bgmusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'armorsound', 'fadeout', 1) }

{ [<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/TCOtitlepage.jpg" alt ="The image is a yellowed title page of The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole. This was the second edition printed in London." width="700" height="1000"/>] } Released on Christmas Eve in 1764, //The Castle of Otranto// was initially claimed to be written by a gentleman named [[William Marshall]]. Marshall allegedly translated a story dating back to 1529 from Naples, Italy that was written by Onuphrio Muralto from the Canon of the Church of St. Nicholas of Otranto. While more “respectable” critics like the Critical Review and Monthly Review were suspicious of its integrity, the story sparked immediate interest and garnered criticism and praise from the general public <a target="_blank" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/333487/the-castle-of-otranto-by-horace-walpole/">(Penguin Classics 117-120)</a>. Seeing the attention the novel received, Horace Walpole claimed authorship in the [[second preface]] and went on to embrace a Gothic persona characterized by later works and the design of his home, Strawberry Hill. In his second preface, Walpole added the subtitle “A Gothic Story” and inspired authors to this day to recognize and recapture the symbols and motifs established in the genre thanks to his novel. (if: (visited:"William Marshall") and (visited:"second preface")) [Despite its brevity, //The Castle of Otranto// presents a myriad of themes that establish iconic staples of the Gothic genre. Through characters, motifs, and environments, Walpole explores different [[avenues]] concerning societal norms and expectations.] { (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') } { (track: 'footsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'footsteps', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) }

//THE// following work was found in the library of an ancient Catholic family in the north of England. It was printed at Naples, in the black letter, in the year 1529. How much sooner it was written does not appear. The principal incidents are such as were believed in the darkest ages of Christianity; but the language and conduct have nothing that savours of barbarism. The style is the purest Italian. If the story was written near the time when it is supposed to have happened, it must have been between 1095, the era of the first Crusade, and 1243, the date of the last, or not long afterwards. There is no other circumstance in the work that can lead us to guess at the period in which the scene is laid: the names of the actors are evidently fictitious, and probably disguised on purpose: yet the Spanish names of the domestics seem to indicate that this work was not composed until the establishment of the Arragonian Kings in Naples had made Spanish appellations familiar in that country. The beauty of the diction, and the zeal of the author (moderated, however, by singular judgment) concur to make me think that the date of the composition was little antecedent to that of the impression. Letters were then in their most flourishing state in Italy, and contributed to dispel the empire of superstition, at that time so forcibly attacked by the reformers. It is not unlikely that an artful priest might endeavour to turn their own arms on the innovators, and might avail himself of his abilities as an author to confirm the populace in their ancient errors and superstitions. If this was his view, he has certainly acted with signal address. Such a work as the following would enslave a hundred vulgar minds beyond half the books of controversy that have been written from the days of Luther to the present hour. This solution of the author's motives is, however, offered as a mere conjecture. Whatever his views were, or whatever effects the execution of them might have, his work can only be laid before the public at present as a matter of entertainment. Even as such, some apology for it is necessary. Miracles, visions, necromancy, dreams, and other preternatural events, are exploded now even from romances. That was not the case when our author wrote; much less when the story itself is supposed to have happened. Belief in every kind of prodigy was so established in those dark ages, that an author would not be faithful to the manners of the times, who should omit all mention of them. He is not bound to believe them himself, but he must represent his actors as believing them. If this air of the miraculous is excused, the reader will find nothing else unworthy of his perusal. Allow the possibility of the facts, and all the actors comport themselves as persons would do in their situation. There is no bombast, no similes, flowers, digressions, or unnecessary descriptions. Everything tends directly to the catastrophe. Never is the reader's attention relaxed. The rules of the drama are almost observed throughout the conduct of the piece. The characters are well drawn, and still better maintained. Terror, the author's principal engine, prevents the story from ever languishing; and it is so often contrasted by pity, that the mind is kept up in a constant vicissitude of interesting passions. Some persons may perhaps think the characters of the domestics too little serious for the general cast of the story; but besides their opposition to the principal personages, the art of the author is very observable in his conduct of the subalterns. They discover many passages essential to the story, which could not be well brought to light but by their NAIVETE and simplicity. In particular, the womanish terror and foibles of Bianca, in the last chapter, conduce essentially towards advancing the catastrophe. It is natural for a translator to be prejudiced in favour of his adopted work. More impartial readers may not be so much struck with the beauties of this piece as I was. Yet I am not blind to my author's defects. I could wish he had grounded his plan on a more useful moral than this: that "the sins of fathers are visited on their children to the third and fourth generation." I doubt whether, in his time, any more than at present, ambition curbed its appetite of dominion from the dread of so remote a punishment. And yet this moral is weakened by that less direct insinuation, that even such anathema may be diverted by devotion to St. Nicholas. Here the interest of the Monk plainly gets the better of the judgment of the author. However, with all its faults, I have no doubt but the English reader will be pleased with a sight of this performance. 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. Should it meet with the success I hope for, I may be encouraged to reprint the original Italian, though it will tend to depreciate my own labour. Our language falls far short of the charms of the Italian, both for variety and harmony. The latter is peculiarly excellent for simple narrative. It is difficult in English to relate without falling too low or rising too high; a fault obviously occasioned by the little care taken to speak pure language in common conversation. Every Italian or Frenchman of any rank piques himself on speaking his own tongue correctly and with choice. I cannot flatter myself with having done justice to my author in this respect: his style is as elegant as his conduct of the passions is masterly. It is a pity that he did not apply his talents to what they were evidently proper for - the theatre. 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. [[Return|fades to black]] { (change: ?Page, (bg: 'https://otranto.asuntaross.com/horace1.png') + (css: "background-color: #000") ) } { (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') } { (track: 'footsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'footsteps', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) }

//The// favourable manner in which this little piece has been received by the public, calls upon the author to explain the grounds on which he composed it. But, before he opens those motives, it is fit that he should ask pardon of his readers for having offered his work to them under the borrowed personage of a translator. As diffidence of his own abilities and the novelty of the attempt, were the sole inducements to assume the disguise, he flatters himself he shall appear excusable. He resigned the performance to the impartial judgement of the public; determined to let it perish in obscurity, if disproved; nor meaning to avow such a trifle, unless better judges should pronounce that he might own it without blush. It was an attempt to blend the two kinds of romance, the ancient and the modern. In the former, all was imagination and improbability: in the latter, nature is always intended to be, and sometimes has been, copied with success. Invention has not been wanting; but the great resources of fancy have been dammed up, by a strict adherence to common life. But if, in the latter species, Nature has cramped imagination, she did but take her revenge, having been totally excluded from old romances. The actions, sentiments, and conversations, of the heroes and heroines of ancient days, were as unnatural as the machines employed to put them in motion. The author of the following pages thought it possible to reconcile the two kinds. Desirous of leaving the powers of fancy at liberty to expatiate through the boundless realms of invention, and thence of creating more interesting situations, he wished to conduct the mortal agents in his drama according to the rules of probability; in short, to make them think, speak, and act, as it might be supposed mere men and women would do in extraordinary positions. He had observed, that, in all inspired writings, the personages under the dispensation of miracles, and witness to the most stupendous phenomena, never lose sight of their human character: whereas, in the productions of romantic story, an improbable event never fails to be attended by an absurd dialogue. The actors seem to lose their senses, the moment the laws of nature have lost their tone. As the public have applauded the attempt, the author must not say he was entirely unequal to the task he had undertaken: yet, if the new route he has struck out shall have paved a road for men of brighter talents, he shall own, with pleasure and modesty, that he was sensible the plan was capable of receiving greater embellishments than his imagination, or conduct of the passions, could bestow on it. With regard to the deportment of the domestics, on which I have touched in the former preface, I will beg leave to add a few words.—The simplicity of their behaviour, almost tending to excite smiles, which, at first, seems not consonant to the serious cast of the work, appeared to me not only improper, but was marked designedly in that manner. My rule was nature. However grave, important, or even melancholy, the sensations of the princes and heroes may be, they do not stamp the same affections on their domestics: at least the latter do not, or should not be made to, express their passions in the same dignified tone. In my humble opinion, the contrast between the sublime of the one and the naivete of the other, sets the pathetic of the former in a stronger light. The very impatience which a reader feels, while delayed, by the coarse pleasantries of vulgar actors, from arriving at the knowledge of the important catastrophe he expects, perhaps heightens, certainly proves that he has been artfully interested in, the depending event. But I had higher authority than my own opinion for this conduct. The great master of nature, SHAKESPEARE, was the model I copied. Let me ask, if his tragedies of Hamlet and Julius Caesar would not lose a considerable share of their spirit and wonderful beauties, if the humour of the gravediggers, the fooleries of Polonius, and the clumsy jests of the Roman citizens, were omitted, or vested in heroics? Is not the eloquence of Antony, the nobler and affectedly-unaffected oration of Brutus, artificially exalted by the rude bursts of nature from the mouths of their auditors? These touches remind one of the Grecian sculptor, who, to convey the idea of a Colossus, within the dimensions of a seal, inserted a little boy measuring his thumb. “No,” says Voltaire, in his edition of Corneille, “this mixture of buffoonery and solemnity is intolerable.”—Voltaire is a genius— but not of Shakespeare’s magnitude. Without recurring to disputable authority, I appeal from Voltaire to himself. I shall not avail myself of his former encomiums on our mighty poet; though the French critic has twice translated the same speech in Hamlet, some years ago in admiration, latterly in derision; and I am sorry to find that his judgment grows weaker when it ought to be farther matured. But I shall make use of his own words, delivered on the general topic of the theatre, when he was neither thinking to recommend or decry Shakespeare’s practice; consequently, at a moment when Voltaire was impartial. In the preface to his Enfant Prodigue, that exquisite piece, of which I declare my admiration, and which, should I live twenty years longer, I trust I shall never attempt to ridicule, he has these words, speaking of comedy (but equally applicable to tragedy, if tragedy is, as surely it ought to be, a picture of human life; nor can I conceive why occassional pleasantry ought more to be banished from the tragic scene than pathetic seriousness from the comic), “One sees there a mixture of the grave and the light, of the comic and the tragic; often even a single adventure exhibits all these contrasts. Nothing is more common than a house in which the father scolds, a girl occupied by her passions weeps, the son ridicules both, some relations take a differing part in the scene, etc. We do not infer from this that every comedy ought to have scenes of buffoonery and of gravity. Now there is gaiety, now seriousness, now a mixture. Then there are others in which tenderness moves one to tears. We must not exclude any type, and if I were asked which is the best I would answer, ‘the one which is best made.” Surely if comedy may be toute sérieuse, tragedy may now and then, soberly, be indulged in a smile. Who shall proscribe it? Shall the critic, who, in self-defence, declares, that no kind ought to be excluded from comedy, give laws to Shakespeare? I am aware that the preface from whence I have quoted these passages does not stand in Monsieur de Voltaire’s name, but in that of his editor; yet who doubts that the editor and the author were the same person? or where is the editor, who has so happily possessed himself of his author’s style, and brilliant ease of argument? These passages were indubitably the genuine sentiments of that great writer. In his epistle to Maffei, prefixed to his Mérope, he delivers almost the same opinion, though, I doubt, with a little irony. I will repeat his words, and then give my reason for quoting them. After translating a passage in Maffei’s Mérope, Monsieur de Voltaire adds, “All of these characteristics are naive. Everything is convenient to those who introduce the scene and to the customs that you give them. These natural familiarities would, I think, have been well received in Athens, but Paris and our nation prefer another type of subtlety.” I doubt, I say, whether there is not a grain of sneer in this and other passages of that epistle; yet the force of truth is not damaged by being tinged with ridicule. Maffei was to represent a Grecian story: surely the Athenians were as competent judges of Grecian manners, and of the propriety of introducing them, as the parterre of Paris. “On the contrary,” says Voltaire (and I cannot but admire his reasoning), “there were but ten thousand citizens at Athens and Paris has near eight hundred thousand inhabitants, among whom one may reckon thirty thousand judges of dramatic works.”—indeed!—but allowing so numerous a tribunal, I believe this is the only instance in which it was ever pretended that thirty thousand persons, living near two thousand years after the era in question, were, upon the mere face of the poll, declared better judges than the Grecians themselves, of what ought to be the manners of a tragedy written on a Grecian story. I will not enter into a discussion of the espèce de simplicité, which the parterre of Paris demands, nor of the shackles with which the thirty thousand judges have cramped their poetry, the chief merit of which, as I gather from repeated passages in the New Commentary on Corneille, consists in vaulting in spite of those fetters; a merit which, if true, would reduce poetry from the lofty effort of imagination, to a puerile and most contemptible labour—difficiles nugae [hard doggerel] with witness! I cannot, however, help mentioning a couplet, which, to my English ears, always sounded as the flattest and most trifling instance of circumstantial propriety, but which Voltaire, who has dealt so severely with nine parts in ten of Corneille’s works, has singled out to defend in Racine; To Caeser’s closet through this door you come. And t’other leads to the Queen’s drawing-room. Unhappy Shakespeare! hadst thou made Rosencrantz inform his compeer, Guildenstern, of the iconography of the palace of Copenhagen, instead of presenting us with a moral dialogue between the Prince of Denmark and the gravedigger, the illuminated pit of Paris would have been instructed a second time to adore thy talents. The result of all I have said, is, to shelter my own daring under the canon of the brightest genius this country, at least, has produced. I might have pleaded that, having created a new species of romance, I was at liberty to lay down what rules I thought fit for the conduct of it: but I should be more proud of having imitated, however faintly, weakly, and at a distance, so masterly a pattern, than to enjoy the entire merit of invention, unless I could have marked my work with genius, as well as with originality. Such as it is, the public have honoured it sufficiently, whatever rank their suffrages allot to it. 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{ [[<img style="33%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/3pathsWindows.png" alt="There is a three-way fork in the road. On the first path, there is a Gothic-style window with three silhouetted women. On the second path, there is a Gothic castle. On the third path, a large gray helmet sits." width="300" height="1000">->window that shows 3 silhouetted women]] [[<img style="33%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/3pathsCastle.png" width="300" height="1000">->castle]] [[<img style="33%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/3pathsHelmet.png" width="300" height="1000">->giant helmet]] } You come across a three-way fork in the road. To the left, there's a spectral window with three silhouetted women watching you. In the middle, a giant castle towering in the distance. To the right, an impossibly large helmet with black plumage swaying in the wind. Choose your path wisely. (if: (visited:"Women's duty conclusion") and (visited:"Castle conclusion") and (visited:"Helmet conclusion")) [ You have explored all you can. The moon watches as you turn around. It's time to [[go|Conclusion]]. ] { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) }

{ [[<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/DoorOpening.gif" alt ="A medieval wooden door opens to a completely black hallway before closing again." width="1000" height="1000">->Enter]] } { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) }

{ [<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/WomenCross.gif" alt ="3 crossroad signs pointing to different directions. One reads Hippolita, the other reads Isabella, and the last reads Matilda" width="1000" height="1000"/>] } //The Castle of Otranto// captures the complexity of a woman's duty through the characters [[Hippolita]], [[Matilda]], and [[Isabella]]. The women share a deep bond because their gender pushes them to rely on each other. They act under the authority of Manfred, but the three women represent different responses to the [[patriarchal power|giant helmet]] over them. Hippolita upholds the misogynistic system, but the newer generation is not so submissive. With Matilda and Isabella, Walpole begins to explore modern, untraditional beliefs that women in his contemporaneous society were postulating. (if: (visited:"Hippolita") and (visited:"Isabella") and (visited:"Matilda")) [ You see the end of the path in the distance. Keep [[moving|Women's duty conclusion]]. ] { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'wind', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') }

{ [[<img style= "width: 48%;aspect-ratio: 1/2" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/leftcastle.gif" alt="This is inside a Gothic castle. Discolored cobblestones make up the walls and floor. There is the option to click the right or left button to explore.">->Left]] [[<img style= "width: 48%;aspect-ratio: 1/2" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/rightcastle.gif">->Right]] } The iconography of the castle in //The Castle of Otranto// represents the themes of a Gothic past and the unstoppable perversion of the home. Go left or right to explore this distortion. (if: (visited:"Left") and (visited:"Right") and (visited:"family") and (visited:"betray") and (visited:"the labyrinth")) [ You see a door that wasn't there before. Keep [[moving|Castle conclusion]]. ] { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'footsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'playwhenpossible') }

(align:"==>")+(box:"=X")[ The castle personifies the Gothic horror genre as we know it today by combining ancient conventions with modern beliefs. Castles have always been powerful symbols of [[ancestry|Right]] within British literature. As sites of historical importance for powerful figures, their presence embodies the reminder that the past will always linger in the present. Paired with the rise in interest for medieval history, these abodes took on "a mythical (...) sense of ancestry" <a target="_blank" href="https://doi.org/10.1353/sec.1979.0019">(Madoff 338)</a>. What really happened within the walls of these bygone buildings did not matter. What they could say about the current state of society, however, did. Exploring this myth meant exploring exactly how the antiquated past showed humanity in its "primal condition" and how that informs the way modern society acts now <a target="_blank" href="https://doi.org/10.1353/sec.1979.0019">(Madoff 338)</a>. The Gothic aesthetic represents the myth of medieval ancestry in particular <a target="_blank" href="https://archivo.revistas.ucr.ac.cr//index.php/rlm/article/view/34684">(Marnieri 43)</a>. Who the actual Goths were is still a bit of a historical gamble, but //Gothic// was meant to serve as a catch-all word. To <a target="_blank" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/261184/lives-of-the-artists-by-giorgio-vasari/">Giorgio Vasari</a>, the man who coined the term in the fifteenth century, it was a style of architecture that offended the classical beauty of Greco-Roman styles and spoke to a barbarity of mind. To British Parliament in the seventeenth century, Gothics were strong self-advocates who championed a more equal share of power <a target="_blank" href="https://doi.org/10.1353/sec.1979.0019">(Madoff 340)</a>. By the time we hit the eighteenth century, Gothicism took on medieval attributes from popular imagination. It was both sound and unstable, elegant and base, awesome and loathsome <a target="_blank" href="https://doi.org/10.1353/sec.1979.0019">(Madoff 341)</a>. Walpole purposefully unites the icon of a castle with the term Gothic to capitalize on a unique aesthetic that allows him to explore society in a removed fashion.\ [[Continue|Enter]] ] (change: ?Page, (bg: 'https://otranto.asuntaross.com/castlebg.gif') + (css: "background-attachment: fixed; min-width: 100%; min-height: 100%; display: block; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #000; background-position-y: bottom; background-position-x: 36px; background-size: 789px;")) { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'footsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'playwhenpossible') }

(align:"==>")+(box:"=X")[= The castle captures the horror of an unstoppable perversion of the home. Building off of [[the Gothic aesthetic |Left]], Walpole manipulates the sanctity of the home by making it uncanny. Instead of being a place where the [[family]] can take respite from the outside world, it starts to [[betray]] its inhabitants and posits the question: What happens when the things you trust are no longer trustworthy? [[Continue|Enter]] (change: ?Page, (bg: 'https://otranto.asuntaross.com/castlebg.gif') + (css: "background-attachment: fixed; min-width: 100%; min-height: 100%; display: block; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #000; background-position-y: bottom; background-position-x: 36px; background-size: 789px;")) { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'footsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'playwhenpossible') }

{ [[<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/doorclose.gif" alt ="A medieval wooden door opens to a completely black hallway before closing again." width="1000" height="1000">->Enter]] } As Railo states, without the haunted castle, "the whole fabric of romance would be bereft of its foundation and would lose its predominant atmosphere" (link: "(7)")[(goto-url: 'https://www.google.com/books/edition/The_Haunted_Castle/yYAkAAAAMAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=0')]. It is the site where alarm bells signal to the reader that even the most concrete structures cannot always be trusted, and the icon establishes the motif of historic spaces within the Gothic horror genre. Audiences are pushed to consider how their reality is also affected by what came before them. [[Go back to the fork in the road|avenues]]. { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'footsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'playwhenpossible') }

{ [<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/ricardo.gif" alt ="A picture of an older medieval man is in an elaborate Gothic picture frame. He is dressed like a noble with a cape and a hat, and he partially hides a sword handle behind his cape. He blinks at you disapprovingly." width="1000" height="1000"/>] } As Manfred is attempting to coerce Isabella into marrying him, he gets distracted from his task when "the portrait of his grandfather, which hung over the bench where they had been sitting, uttered a deep sigh, and heaved its breast (...) Do I dream? cried Manfred, returning; or are the devils themselves in league against me? Speak, infernal spectre! Or, if thou art my grandsire, why dost thou too conspire against thy wretched descendant, who too dearly pays for— Ere he could finish the sentence, the vision sighed again, and made a sign to Manfred to follow him” <a target="_blank" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/333487/the-castle-of-otranto-by-horace-walpole/">(Walpole 24-25)</a>. The interruption is an allegory for Gothicism. In this scene, the past and present unite to remind the audience that that our actions are negotiated by the systems established before us. Manfred recognizes this immediately and starts to blame his grandfather for putting him in this situation to begin with. The Gothic aesthetic is "both sinister and reverential" <a target="_blank" href="https://doi.org/10.1353/sec.1979.0019">(Madoff 342)</a>, and the ghost of Ricardo embodies the mystifying ways people can never escape the past. It lingers and watches in the background, always ready to influence the present. [[Continue|Right]] { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'footsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'loop', true) (track: 'sigh', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'playwhenpossible') }

After barely managing to escape Manfred's attempted assault, Isabella races to find some kind of santcuary within the castle. She remembers a trap door within the underground tunnels that will lead to the nearby Church of St. Nicholas, and she braves [[the labyrinth]] to save herself. { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'footsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'wind', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'playwhenpossible') }

{ [<img style="width: 100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/womenconc.gif" alt ="3 crossroad signs pointing to different directions. Together, the signs read 'You may proceed'." width="1000" height="1000"/>] } With these characters, Walpole sets up a generic staple of the Gothic novel, which is the unique role that women play within horror. As an Other within a male-dominated society, women are already ascribed societal fears by the hegemony. They are weak and dangerous, beautiful and revolting—things to be governed, but Walpole introduces defying those ideas through the lens of horror. The spectrum of female deference that Hippolita, Matilda, and Isabella represent would inspire other female authors to establish the //female// Gothic, a subgenre that capitalizes on how women are prepared to undergo supernatural horrors linked to real fears related to gender, forever changing the Gothic genre as a whole (link: "(Heiland 62)")[(goto-url: 'https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/book/10.1002/9780470775691 ')]. [[Go back to the fork in the road|avenues]]. { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'wind', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') }

{ [<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/hippolita.gif" alt ="A statue of a conservatively dressed medieval woman titled Hippolita is in the middle of a forest clearing. Her head is lowered and her eyes are closed as though she is hurt." width="1000" height="1000"/>] } As the matriarch of the family, Hippolita is a mentor for the next female generation of her household. She is a major proponent of following the dominant culture, and advises Matilda and Isabella to do the same when Manfred makes increasingly concerning demands of his family. The girls struggle with their mutual romantic interest in [[Theodore]] that goes against Manfred's plan to continue his bloodline through Isabella, and they turn to Hippolita for advice. She can see the torment of the situation for the girls, but declares, "It is not ours to make election for ourselves: heaven, our fathers, and our husbands must decide for us (...) answer me not, my daughter: I must not hear a word against the pleasure of thy father" <a target="_blank" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/333487/the-castle-of-otranto-by-horace-walpole/">(Walpole 80)</a>. All agency she has is trusted to the men in her life: her God, the men of faith under Him, and her husband. This passivity has always been celebrated in women because it helps keep men in power, and because it is all she knows, it is the cycle that Hippolita encourages to continue. She is on the far end of the female-deference spectrum meaning, no matter how uncomfortable or hurt she feels, she consistently leaves the decisions to be made in Manfred's hands. While critics may argue this is a limiting representation of women, the other characters' responses to her actions create more nuance. [[Continue|window that shows 3 silhouetted women]] { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'wind', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') }

{ [<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/matilda.gif" alt ="A statue of a young medieval woman titled Matilda sits in the middle of a forest clearing. She looks away from the viewer and holds the skirt of her floor-length dress close to her body with a worried expression." width="1000" height="1000"/>] } Matilda lies towards the middle of the female-deference spectrum as she pivots between following her father's wishes and embracing her own. As an ever-obedient daughter, Matilda is familiar with pushing down her discomfort to please her parents, especially her mother. She follows Hippolita's advice in prioritizing her father's power, but she also confesses the inner turmoil she experiences in doing so. As much as she tries, she cannot wholeheartedly subscribe to their traditional family dynamic. The introduction of [[Theodore]] leads to inner revolution as she starts to explore her own decisions. From the beginning of the story, Manfred has always been suspicious of Theodore and he pins the death of his son on the youth. Because Theodore's prison inevitably ends up under Matilda's room, the two share a brief conversation that leads to Matilda freeing him. As she rationalizes her decision, she states, "Young man, said she, though filial duty and womanly modesty condemn the step I am taking, yet holy charity, surmounting all other ties, justifies this act" <a target="_blank" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/333487/the-castle-of-otranto-by-horace-walpole/">(Walpole 64)</a>. She chooses to take pride in her decision by citing the highest power, the divine, because she recognizes how her choices are valid. Matilda is well-aware of the expectations she must live up to as a woman, which essentially culminate in being an object for the men in her life to use as they will. She chooses to take pride in her decision by citing the highest power, the divine, because she recognizes how her choices are valid. Like Isabella, however, she embodies modern sentiments of rebellion and revolution. The eighteenth century was a time where people were outwardly questioning the status quo. Matilda must decide whether she wants to follow tradition, which means wholly obeying her father, or follow her own sense of right and wrong. [[Continue|window that shows 3 silhouetted women]] { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') }

{ [<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/isabella.gif" alt ="A statue of a young medieval woman titled Isabella sits in the middle of a forest clearing. She is wearing a wedding dress and clasps her hands in front of her, looking defiantly at the viewer." width="1000" height="1000"/>] } Isabella is the odd-man-out in the female trio, which may be why she is the character with the least amount of female-deference from the start. Isabella is like a second daughter to the family because she has been betrothed to Conrad for so long and was extremely close to Hippolita and Matilda. Her love for the family stopp short of Manfred and Conrad, however, which distances her from the family hierarchy that values the men above all else. After Conrad is killed, "she was not sorry to be delivered from a marriage which had promised her little felicity, either from her destined bridegroom, or from the severe temper of Manfred, who, though he had distinguished her by great indulgence, had imprinted her mind with terror" <a target="_blank" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/333487/the-castle-of-otranto-by-horace-walpole/">(Walpole 19)</a>. Already, Isabella is transgressing societal norms by cherishing the women, not the men, in her life. She is not bound to the same domineering hierarchy because she exists outside of it. Her connection to Otranto relies on different forces, so she can easily defy Manfred because she owes him nothing. When Manfred attempts to coerce Isabella into sleeping with him so he can continue his patrilineage, Isabella vehemently rejects him and tries to get away. Outside in the courtyard, the gigantic helmet makes ominous sounds and she cries out, “Look, my Lord! see, Heaven itself declares against your impious intentions!” <a target="_blank" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/333487/the-castle-of-otranto-by-horace-walpole/">(Walpole 24)</a>. Her rejection of Manfred is a rejection of the patriarchal presumption that all women must obey men. She aligns her goal with forces even more powerful than man in her reasoning to appeal to Manfred's morality. The narrative also justifies her choice, and Isabella's rationale reveals Walpole's critique of contemporary society. If the systems in place were followed blindly, it would result in morally wrong outcomes. By showing how the defiance of assumed universal truths can actually be good, readers can similarly begin to critique their own world. [[Continue|window that shows 3 silhouetted women]] { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'wind', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') }

{ [<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/helmet.gif" alt ="A giant helmet of medieval armor is sitting in the grass on top of a pile of blood and a pale, broken hand. The black feathers on top are blowing in the wind as the shadow of a man watches." width="1000" height="1000"/>] } One of the central symbols from //The Castle of Otranto// is the iconic giant armor that appears in or around the castle piece by piece. The novel opens with the wedding of Conrad and Isabella being horrifically stopped by the death of Conrad. A distressed peasant comes to warn the family and leads Manfred, Conrad's father, to the scene. "Shocked with these lamentable sounds, and dreading (Manfred) knew not what, he advanced hastily,—but what a sight for a father’s eyes!—he beheld his child dashed to pieces, and almost buried under an enormous helmet, an hundred times more large than any casque ever made for human being, and shaded with a proportionable quantity of black feathers" <a target="_blank" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/333487/the-castle-of-otranto-by-horace-walpole/">(Walpole 18)</a>. The armor is a realization of the (link-repeat:"prophecy")[(display:"Modal code")(append:?modal)[ "The castle and lordship of Otranto should pass from the present family, whenever the real owner should be grown too large to inhabit it" <a target="_blank" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/333487/the-castle-of-otranto-by-horace-walpole/"> (Walpole 17).</a> ]] tied to Manfred's lineage. Though he hides the truth for his family, the history of Otranto is brought to light by the appearance of [[ghosts from the past]]. The apparent acceptance of the conservative tradition of restoring power to the proper bloodlines is complicated when the novel calls attention to the [[immediate context]] following the appearance of the armor and [[the consequences]] that befall the latest generation. (if: (visited:"ghosts from the past") and (visited:"immediate context") and (visited:"the consequences")) [ You see the end of the path in the distance. Keep [[moving|Helmet conclusion]]. ] { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'armorsound', 'loop', true) (track: 'armorsound', 'playwhenpossible') }

{ [<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/theo.gif" alt ="A statue of a young medieval man titled Theodore sits in the middle of a forest clearing." width="1000" height="1000"/>] } Theodore's past is another Gothic trope that Walpole establishes, which is the hero(ine) reclaiming their rightful places from usurpers after a life of tribulation. While Alfonso was sailing to the Holy Land, his ship was separated from the rest of his crew and he was trapped in Sicily due to poor weather. There, he married a woman named Victoria but had to keep the marriage a secret because he still had to fight in the Crusades. When the weather allowed it, Alfonso left to continue fighting and planned to return later. Victoria discovered she was pregnant with a baby girl but later learned of Alfonso's death without their marriage being revealed to anyone. That daughter went on to marry Jerome, the former Count of Falconra turned friar in the Church of St. Nicholas. They would later have Theodore. At age five, Theodore and his mother were separated from Jerome and kidnapped by pirates and taken to Algiers while the kingdom was wasted. His mother died of grief shortly after after revealing that Theodore was the son of the Count of Falconara. Theodore worked as a slave on the pirate ship until he was rescued by a Christian ship that defeated his captors in battle. Ever since, he has been working to survive and find clues on where his father disappeared to after Falconara's destruction. Theodore's endurance through difficult circumstances is an embrace of Gothicism's vaguely medieval themes ((link: "(Madoff 340)")[(goto-url: 'https://doi.org/10.1353/sec.1979.0019')]. Undergoing barbaric treatment and emerging as a respectable individual thanks to inherent traits tied to your lineage echoes the sentiment of divine power being passed down from God. Those who can weather storms are predisposed to suffer elegantly because the universe will eventually return what they have been robbed of, as seen in the restoration of Alfonso's bloodline to the Otranto throne.

{ [<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/helmet.gif" alt ="A giant helmet of medieval armor is sitting in the grass on top of a pile of blood. The black feathers on top are blowing in the wind as the shadow of a man watches." width="1000" height="1000"/>] } While the idea of unavoidable armor dropping from the sky is terrifying, even (link-repeat:"audiences at the time")[(display:"Modal code")(append:?modal)[ "Having, in some degree, opened my design, I beg leave to conduct my reader back again, till he comes within view of The Castle of Otranto; a work which, as already has been observed, is an attempt to unite the various merits and graces of the ancient Romance and modern Novel. To attain this end, there is required a sufficient degree of the marvellous, to excite the attention; enough of the manners of real life, to give an air of probability to the work; and enough of the pathetic, to engage the heart in its behalf. The book we have mentioned is excellent in the two last points, but has a redundancy in the first; the opening excites the attention very strongly; the conduct of the story is artful and judicious; the characters are admirably drawn and supported; the diction polished and elegant; yet, with all these brilliant advantages, it palls upon the mind (though it does not upon the ear); and the reason is obvious, the machinery is so violent, that it destroys the effect it is intended to excite. Had the story been kept within the utmost verge of probability, the effect had been preserved, without losing the least circumstance that excites or detains the attention." <a target="_blank" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/5182/5182-h/5182-h.htm"> (Clara Reeve, Preface to //The Old English Baron//, 2nd edition)</a> ]] could not overlook how the situation was also just //silly//. The peasants of Otranto are the first to experience the humongous armor and must relay what they have seen to the nobles. When they do, the novel features a Shakespearean tonal shift where miscommunication dilutes the horror <a target="_blank" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/333487/the-castle-of-otranto-by-horace-walpole/">(Gamer xxx)</a>. After Isabella escapes the castle following Manfred's attempted coercion, Manfred sends servants to try and find her. Diego and Jaquez come to him with information about the giant leg they saw in the great gallery but the two stumble over each other and only exasperate Manfred. "What new absurdity is this? cried Manfred — give me a direct answer, or, by heaven — Why, my Lord, if it please your Highness to hear me, said the poor fellow; Diego and I — Yes, I and Jaquez— cried his comrade — Did not I forbid you to speak both at a time? said the prince: You, Jaquez, answer; for the other fool seems more distracted than thou art; what is the matter? <a target="_blank" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/333487/the-castle-of-otranto-by-horace-walpole/">(Walpole 31)</a>. Following the presumption that the armor represents the patriarchal power of the past, Walpole seems to be pointing out the arbitrarity of the system. It is nearly impossible to rationalize with words, as seen by how the common people struggle to do so, but is still accepted as uncontestable given the blatant consequences of the situation. This echoes how the perception of property laws in the eighteenth century was starting to change. People began to question their initial acceptance of rules that kept certain individuals in power and others out of it, destabilizing the acceptance of the status quo. By pairing a representation of this system with humor, Walpole treats it like an "absurd force" <a target="_blank" href="https://doi.org/10.7202/1042227ar">(Winter 123)</a>. Cartoonishly large pieces of armor somehow leads to nearly years of undisturbed power being completely discarded in exhange for a young stranger, begging the question: What kind of system happily accepts this and why do we continue to follow it? [[Continue|giant helmet]] { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'armorsound', 'loop', true) (track: 'armorsound', 'playwhenpossible') }

{ [<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/balance2.gif" alt ="A scale of justice holds a helmet on one side and a family consisting of a mother, father, son and daughter. It teeters every now and then, but the helmet seems to weigh the most." width="1000" height="1000"/>] } The uncontestable power of resorative justice is ultimately rendered ambivalent when the endings of the characters are highlighted. None of the latest descendants get a happy ending despite things being restored to their rightful place. Conrad, the next heir and most prevalent threat to the traditional power system, is the first victim of restorative justice when he is killed by Alfonso. Williams explains that “Conrad, is crushed by the weight of a past not his own,” and his family hardly gets a chance to mourn because they are presented with so many immediate events <a target="_blank" href="https://archive.org/details/artofdarknesspoe0000will/page/n5/mode/2up">(Williams 29)</a>. The person he could have been is quietly swept away because of things entirely out of his control, leaving a bitter taste in the readers mouth. Matilda, Isabella, and Theodore also suffer the consequences of their ancestor's actions. Matilda is mistakenly murdered by her own father after she disobeys her parents' orders and dies struggling with her attempt at agency leading to her doom. She captures the tension of doing the right thing as a person, woman, daughter, and potential lover in eloquent introspective speeches. She esteems everyone around her, including her father despite his harsh treatment of her and Hippolita, and this makes her a sympathetic character the audience wants to root for. Her death is made all the more tragic when we realize that she will never get to experience what she wanted—a happy life for those around her. Utterly heartbroken by Matilda's death, "Theodore’s grief was too fresh to admit the thought of another love; and it was not until after frequent discourses with Isabella of his dear Matilda, that he was persuaded he could know no happiness but in the society of one with whom he could for ever indulge the melancholy that had taken possession of his soul" <a target="_blank" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/333487/the-castle-of-otranto-by-horace-walpole/">(Walpole 100-101)</a>. While Theodore and Isabella have claim to Otranto through their bloodlines, neither get to enjoy being restored to their rightful place. Theodore's eternal unhappiness is a direct consequence of usurpers being vanquished as he is locked in a marriage where he can lose himself in his grief. Isabella genuinely liked Theodore and initially gave him up to Matilda when she saw their feelings reciprocated for each other. Her sacrifice is rendered pointless as she is later stuck in an unrequited marriage. Both characters suffer when participating in the traditional hierarchical system that puts them on top, acting as a criticism of the lasting effects of systems established in the past. What the hegemony agrees is normal and moral may not actually be that way to those experiencing it. Dominating systems that constrain their subjects are made supernaturally Gothic in order to critique modernity from a safe distance. The terror can be interpreted as relics of a bygone era or ghosts that continue to haunt the present, and Walpole leaves it up to the reader to determine how they see it. [[Continue|giant helmet]] { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'armorsound', 'loop', true) (track: 'armorsound', 'playwhenpossible') }

{ [<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/ancestry.gif" alt="There is a pixellated forest in the background. On top, there is an unnamed, expansive ancestral family tree." width="1000" height="1000"/>] } Manfred's grandfather, Ricardo, was the chamberlain of Alfonso, the last true prince of Otranto. Fueled by jealousy, Ricardo secretly poisoned the noble and faked a will that bequethed the land to him. When traveling to his newest home, Ricardo was caught in a storm and vowed to build a church and two convents for St. Nicholas if he reached Otranto alive. The spirit of St. Nicholas appeared to him and agreed to the bargain with the caveat of the prophecy <a target="_blank" href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/333487/the-castle-of-otranto-by-horace-walpole/">(Walpole 99)</a>. The supernatural powers that drive the conflict of the novel are dramatized representations of eighteenth century property laws. Ensuring the right descendants are given their due was a strategy for "dead hands keeping a grip on their property from beyond the grave" <a target="_blank" href="https://doi.org/10.7202/1042227ar">(Winter 124)</a>. Alfonso's gigantic armor is a manifestation of this conservative will. It annihilates another false heir gearing up to take charge of the principality and menaces Manfred's home, literally paving the way for [[Theodore]], Alfonso's descendant, to become the Prince of Otranto by physically destroying the walls of the castle to announce the true heir. It seems as though the universe itself is righting the wrong committed years ago, harkening back to the power of mortmain in real life that dictated who was and was not allowed to own property based on things from the past <a target="_blank" href="https://doi.org/10.7202/1042227ar">(Winter 125)</a>. Mortmain was treated as a universal truth by contemporary society, something Walpole was extrememly familiar given his own esteemed heritage Legitimacy of power is violently upheld by the gigantic armor, a larger than life representation of how traditional hierarchal structures completely dominate and, literally and figuratively, squash those that attempt to subvert it. [[Continue|giant helmet]] { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'armorsound', 'loop', true) (track: 'armorsound', 'playwhenpossible') }

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=") [Bibliography] Heiland, Donna. //Gothic & Gender: An Introduction//. Blackwell, 2004. Madoff, Mark. “The Useful Myth of Gothic Ancestry.” //Studies in Eighteenth-Century Culture//, vol. 8, no. 1, 1979, pp. 337–50. https://doi.org/10.1353/sec.1979.0019. Marnieri, Maria Teresa. “Castles, Forests, and Literary Syncretism. An Analysis of Horace Walpole’s //The Castle of Otranto//.” //Revista de Lenguas Modernas//, no. 28, 2018, pp. 43–58. Walpole, Horace. //The Castle of Otranto: A Gothic Story//. Penguin Classics, 2002. Winter, Carole. “‘Some Fatal Secret’: Mortmain in Horace Walpole’s //The Castle of Otranto//.” //Lumen// (Edmonton, Alta.), vol. 37, pp. 123-34. https://doi.org/10.7202/1042227ar. { (track: 'piano', 'volume', 0.05) (track: 'piano', 'loop', true) (track: 'piano', 'playwhenpossible') } { (track: 'footsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'footsteps', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'wind', 'loop', true) (track: 'wind', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'bgmusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'armorsound', 'fadeout', 1) }

{ [<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/book.gif" alt ="There is an open book with yellowed pages that turn." width="1000" height="1000"/>] } //The Castle of Otranto//'s use of women's duty, the Gothic castle, and ghostly patriarchal control are only a handful of the themes it lays as the groundwork for the Gothic horror genre. By combining a constantly fluctuating term with the buregeoning revolutions of the eighteenth century, Walpole uses horror to explore contemporary issues with the backdrop of the bare bones of society through a loose representation of medieval times. The foundation laid by the first Gothic horror novel went on to inspire the genre for life, influencing writers from Clara Reeves to Mary Shelley, Shirley Jackson to Stephen King, and many more. Walpole's formation of the genre provides a safer space to engage with contempory issues, his powerful story speaking to audiences of the time and continuing to speak to us now. [[The End]] { (track: 'piano', 'volume', 0.05) (track: 'piano', 'loop', true) (track: 'piano', 'playwhenpossible') } { (track: 'footsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'footsteps', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'wind', 'loop', true) (track: 'wind', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'bgmusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'armorsound', 'fadeout', 1) }

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[(text-style:"underline")[//''Sound effects credits''//] Armor sound effect: https://freesound.org/people/Tyronm123/sounds/541569/ Background music: https://freesound.org/people/cormi/sounds/155609/ Chase music: https://freesound.org/people/SuperGamerSVK/sounds/509924/ Grassy footsteps: https://freesound.org/people/sardan1972/sounds/275190/ Man sighing: https://freesound.org/people/ValentinPetiteau/sounds/569568/ Piano: https://freesound.org/people/complexor/sounds/645686/ Stone footsteps: https://freesound.org/people/Galbenshire/sounds/464520/ Wind blowing: https://freesound.org/people/jorge0000/sounds/361053/ Woman's footsteps: https://freesound.org/people/SpliceSound/sounds/218292/ (text-style:"underline")[//''Images used''//] Horace Walpole portrait: Carriera, Rosalba. //Walpole//. 1741. //The Castle of Otranto// title page: (text-style:"underline")[//''Fonts Used''//] Grenze Gotisch Jacquard 12 Charted [[Bibliography]] [[Read this essay again|Opening Sequence]] or explore [[more Gothic horror readings|More Gothic Horror Readings]] ] { (track: 'piano', 'volume', 0.05) (track: 'piano', 'loop', true) (track: 'piano', 'playwhenpossible') } { (track: 'footsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'footsteps', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'wind', 'loop', true) (track: 'wind', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'bgmusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'armorsound', 'fadeout', 1) }

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{ [<img style="width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/conchelm.gif" alt ="A giant helmet of medieval armor is sitting in the grass on top of a pile of blood and a pale, broken hand. The black feathers on top are blowing in the wind as the shadow of a man watches." width="1000" height="1000"/>] } As a symbol of the looming threat of the patriarchy, the helmet is Walpole's satirical critique of society's adherence to tradition. While absurd in its size and bordering on cheesy, the damage left by Alfonso's humongous armor sobers the narrative as it robs two young adults of their lives and the other young adults distraught. The Gothic genre closely follows the consequences of tradition through unique symbols, and //The Castle of Otranto// set the precedent with its inclusion of the helmet. [[Go back to the fork in the road|avenues]]. { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 6) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'bgmusic', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'armorsound', 'loop', true) (track: 'armorsound', 'playwhenpossible') }

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{<! -- :: Start -->  (set: $typewriterText to " As Isabella runs, “An awful silence reigned throughout those subterraneous regions, except now and then some blasts of wind that shook the doors she had passed, and which, grating on the rusty hinges, were re-echoed through that long labyrinth of darkness” (Walpole 26). Like Isabella, you must also escape these dark passages. Use the blue keys to go through the light gray doorways and don't stop running. The echoes of this labyrinth make it hard to tell if Manfred is behind you, so it's best you don't test your luck. ")   <! -- :: Typewriter --> {  (set: $typewriterPos to 1)  |typewriterOutput>[]  (live: 20ms)[  (append: ?typewriterOutput)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)]  (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1)  (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (stop:) ] ] } } { <iframe src="https://www.puzzlescript.net/play.html?p=1a3bd9ea6eb325bbca6dd1236d5c5a72" width="600" height="600"></iframe> } { <! -- :: StoryTitle --> <! -- Delayed Text in Harlowe --> <! -- :: Start { (live: 60s)[ (stop:) The horror of this scene comes not only from the crime that Isabella is at the risk of suffering, but also the castle itself. This structure has served as Isabella's home for a while now, as she is essentially a second daughter of the family. It should be a place of protection, somewhere she can turn to for aid, but it has turned into a dangerous cage. She can't escape through the entrance because the castle is under Manfred's discretion and //he// controls where she is able to go. Instead, she has to descend into a twisting maze that has always been lurking under the surface of her home. The environment acts as though it is alive, disorienting her with an endless din and maze-like layout. Like her, you must [[continue|Enter]]. ] } } { (track: 'piano', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'footsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'bgmusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'wind', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'volume', 0.05) (track: 'chasemusic', 'loop', true) (track: 'chasemusic', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'isafootsteps', 'volume') (track: 'isafootsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'playwhenpossible') }

[[<img style= "width=100%" src="https://otranto.asuntaross.com/title.gif" alt="On top of a starry sky, the title 'The Facets of Otranto' is written. The author is Asunta Ross, and there is a start button." width="1000" height="1000">->fades to black]] (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Content Warning: Blood, minor gore Headphones recommended A/N: Explore every link to progress the story. Avoid using the back arrow because it will affect what your passages reveal.] { (track: 'piano', 'volume', 0.05) (track: 'piano', 'loop', true) (track: 'piano', 'playwhenpossible') } { (track: 'footsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'footsteps', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'wind', 'loop', true) (track: 'wind', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'armorsound', 'loop', true) (track: 'armorsound', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'bgmusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) }

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Try out these stories if you enjoyed the Gothic aesthetic in //The Castle of Otranto//! 🏰 //The Romance of the Forest// by Ann Radcliffe (1791) //Frankenstein// by Mary Shelley (1818) //Wuthering Heights// by Emily Brontë (1847) //The Woman in White// by Wilkie Collins (1860) //Carmilla// by Sheridan Le Fanu (1872) //The Phantom of the Opera// by Gaston Leroux (1909) //The Haunting of Hill House// by Shirley Jackson (1959) //Interview with the Vampire// by Anne Rice (1976) //The Worm in Every Heart// by Gemma Files (2004) //The Hacienda// by Isabel Cañas (2023) //We Used to Live Here: A Novel// by Marcus Kliewer (2024) [[Read the essay again|Opening Sequence]] ] { (track: 'piano', 'volume', 0.05) (track: 'piano', 'loop', true) (track: 'piano', 'playwhenpossible') } { (track: 'footsteps', 'loop', true) (track: 'footsteps', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'wind', 'loop', true) (track: 'wind', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'bgmusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'stonefootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'sigh', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'isafootsteps', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'chasemusic', 'fadeout', 1) (track: 'armorsound', 'fadeout', 1) }