The Old English Baron: a Gothic Story

  Produced by Jack Voller

  THE OLD ENGLISH BARON

  By Clara Reeve

  PREFACE

  As this Story is of a species which, though not new, is out ofthe common track, it has been thought necessary to point out somecircumstances to the reader, which will elucidate the design, and, it ishoped, will induce him to form a favourable, as well as a right judgmentof the work before him.

  This Story is the literary offspring of The Castle of Otranto, writtenupon the same plan, with a design to unite the most attractive andinteresting circumstances of the ancient Romance and modern Novel, atthe same time it assumes a character and manner of its own, that differsfrom both; it is distinguished by the appellation of a Gothic Story,being a picture of Gothic times and manners. Fictitious stories havebeen the delight of all times and all countries, by oral tradition inbarbarous, by writing in more civilized ones; and although some personsof wit and learning have condemned them indiscriminately, I wouldventure to affirm, that even those who so much affect to despise themunder one form, will receive and embrace them under another.

  Thus, for instance, a man shall admire and almost adore the Epic poemsof the Ancients, and yet despise and execrate the ancient Romances,which are only Epics in prose.

  History represents human nature as it is in real life, alas, too oftena melancholy retrospect! Romance displays only the amiable side of thepicture; it shews the pleasing features, and throws a veil over theblemishes: Mankind are naturally pleased with what gratifies theirvanity; and vanity, like all other passions of the human heart, may berendered subservient to good and useful purposes.

  I confess that it may be abused, and become an instrument to corrupt themanners and morals of mankind; so may poetry, so may plays, so mayevery kind of composition; but that will prove nothing more than theold saying lately revived by the philosophers the most in fashion, "thatevery earthly thing has two handles."

  The business of Romance is, first, to excite the attention; andsecondly, to direct it to some useful, or at least innocent, end: Happythe writer who attains both these points, like Richardson! and notunfortunate, or undeserving praise, he who gains only the latter, andfurnishes out an entertainment for the reader!

  Having, in some degree, opened my design, I beg leave to conduct myreader 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 thevarious merits and graces of the ancient Romance and modern Novel.To attain this end, there is required a sufficient degree of themarvellous, 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, buthas a redundancy in the first; the opening excites the attentionvery strongly; the conduct of the story is artful and judicious; thecharacters are admirably drawn and supported; the diction polished andelegant; yet, with all these brilliant advantages, it palls upon themind (though it does not upon the ear); and the reason is obvious, themachinery is so violent, that it destroys the effect it is intended toexcite. Had the story been kept within the utmost verge of probability,the effect had been preserved, without losing the least circumstancethat excites or detains the attention.

  For instance; we can conceive, and allow of, the appearance of a ghost;we can even dispense with an enchanted sword and helmet; but then theymust keep within certain limits of credibility: A sword so large asto require an hundred men to lift it; a helmet that by its own weightforces a passage through a court-yard into an arched vault, big enoughfor a man to go through; a picture that walks out of its frame; askeleton ghost in a hermit's cowl:--When your expectation is wound upto the highest pitch, these circumstances take it down with a witness,destroy the work of imagination, and, instead of attention, excitelaughter. I was both surprised and vexed to find the enchantmentdissolved, which I wished might continue to the end of the book; andseveral of its readers have confessed the same disappointment to me: Thebeauties are so numerous, that we cannot bear the defects, but want itto be perfect in all respects.

  In the course of my observations upon this singular book, it seemed tome that it was possible to compose a work upon the same plan, whereinthese defects might be avoided; and the keeping, as in painting, mightbe preserved.

  But then I began to fear it might happen to me as to certaintranslators, and imitators of Shakespeare; the unities may be preserved,while the spirit is evaporated. However, I ventured to attempt it; Iread the beginning to a circle of friends of approved judgment, and bytheir approbation was encouraged to proceed, and to finish it.