n of the romantic school, may be said to have had their origin
on the night when Walpole lay down to sleep, his head crammed full of
Wardour Street curiosities, and dreamed that he saw a gigantic hand in
armor resting on the banisters of his staircase."

It is impossible at this day to take "The Castle of Otranto" seriously,
and hard to explain the respect with which it was once mentioned by
writers of authority. Warburton called it "a master-piece in the Fable,
and a new species likewise. . . The scene is laid in Gothic chivalry;
where a beautiful imagination, supported by strength of judgment, has
enabled the reader to go beyond his subject and effect the full purpose
of the ancient tragedy; _i.e._, to purge the passions by pity and terror,
in coloring as great and harmonious as in any of the best dramatic
writers." Byron called Walpole the author of the last tragedy[13] and
the first romance in the language. Scott wrote of "The Castle of
Otranto": "This romance has been justly considered, not only as the
original and model of a peculiar species of composition attempted and
successfully executed by a man of great genius, but as one of the
standard works of our lighter literature." Gray in a letter to Walpole
(December 30, 1764), acknowledging the receipt of his copy, says: "It
makes some of us cry a little, and all in general afraid to go to bed o'
nights." Walpole's masterpiece can no longer make anyone cry even a
little; and instead of keeping us out of bed, it sends us there--or
would, if it were a trifle longer. For the only thing that is tolerable
about the book is its brevity, and a certain rapidity in the action.
Macaulay, who confesses its absurdity and insipidity, says that no
reader, probably, ever thought it dull. "The story, whatever its value
may be, never flags for a single moment. There are no digressions, or
unreasonable descriptions, or long speeches. Every sentence carries the
action forward. The excitement is constantly renewed." Excitement is
too strong a word to describe any emotion which "The Castle of Otranto"
is now capable of arousing. But the same cleverness which makes
Walpole's correspondence always readable saves his romance from the
unpardonable sin--in literature--of tediousness. It does go along and
may still be read without a too painful effort.

There is nothing very new in the plot, which has all the stock properties
of romantic fiction, as common in the days of Sidney'