The Castle of Otranto
Fortifying herself with these reflections, and believing by what she
could observe that she was near the mouth of the subterraneous cavern,
she approached the door that had been opened; but a sudden gust of wind
that met her at the door extinguished her lamp, and left her in total
darkness.
Words cannot paint the horror of the Princess’s situation. Alone in so
dismal a place, her mind imprinted with all the terrible events of the
day, hopeless of escaping, expecting every moment the arrival of Manfred,
and far from tranquil on knowing she was within reach of somebody, she
knew not whom, who for some cause seemed concealed thereabouts; all these
thoughts crowded on her distracted mind, and she was ready to sink under
her apprehensions. She addressed herself to every saint in heaven, and
inwardly implored their assistance. For a considerable time she remained
in an agony of despair.
At last, as softly as was possible, she felt for the door, and having
found it, entered trembling into the vault from whence she had heard the
sigh and steps. It gave her a kind of momentary joy to perceive an
imperfect ray of clouded moonshine gleam from the roof of the vault,
which seemed to be fallen in, and from whence hung a fragment of earth or
building, she could not distinguish which, that appeared to have been
crushed inwards. She advanced eagerly towards this chasm, when she
discerned a human form standing close against the wall.
She shrieked, believing it the ghost of her betrothed Conrad. The
figure, advancing, said, in a submissive voice—
“Be not alarmed, Lady; I will not injure you.”
Isabella, a little encouraged by the words and tone of voice of the
stranger, and recollecting that this must be the person who had opened
the door, recovered her spirits enough to reply—
“Sir, whoever you are, take pity on a wretched Princess, standing on the
brink of destruction. Assist me to escape from this fatal castle, or in
a few moments I may be made miserable for ever.”
“Alas!” said the stranger, “what can I do to assist you? I will die in
your defence; but I am unacquainted with the castle, and want—”
“Oh!” said Isabella, hastily interrupting him; “help me but to find a
trap-door that must be hereabout, and it is the greatest service you can
do me, for I have not a minute to lose.”
Saying these words, she felt about on the pavement, and directed the
stranger to search likewise, for a smooth piece of brass enclosed in
one of the stones.
“That,” said she, “is the lock, which opens with a spring, of which I
know the secret. If we can find that, I may escape—if not, alas!
courteous stranger, I fear I shall have involved you in my misfortunes:
Manfred will suspect you for the accomplice of my flight, and you will
fall a victim to his resentment.”
“I value not my life,” said the stranger, “and it will be some comfort to
lose it in trying to deliver you from his tyranny.”
“Generous youth,” said Isabella, “how shall I ever requite—”
As she uttered those words, a ray of moonshine, streaming through a
cranny of the ruin above, shone directly on the lock they sought.
“Oh! transport!” said Isabella; “here is the trap-door!” and, taking out
the key, she touched the spring, which, starting aside, discovered an
iron ring. “Lift up the door,” said the Princess.
The stranger obeyed, and beneath appeared some stone steps descending
into a vault totally dark.
“We must go down here,” said Isabella. “Follow me; dark and dismal as it
is, we cannot miss our way; it leads directly to the church of St.
Nicholas. But, perhaps,” added the Princess modestly, “you have no
reason to leave the castle, nor have I farther occasion for your service;
in a few minutes I shall be safe from Manfred’s rage—only let me know to
whom I am so much obliged.”
“I will never quit you,” said the stranger eagerly, “until I have placed
you in safety—nor think me, Princess, more generous than I am; though you
are my principal care—”
The stranger was interrupted by a sudden noise of voices that seemed
approaching, and they soon distinguished these words—
“Talk not to me of necromancers; I tell you she must be in the castle; I
will find her in spite of enchantment.”
“Oh, heavens!” cried Isabella; “it is the voice of Manfred! Make haste,
or we are ruined! and shut the trap-door after you.”
Saying this, she descended the steps precipitately; and as the stranger
hastened to follow her, he let the door slip out of his hands: it fell,
and the spring closed over it. He tried in vain to open it, not having
observed Isabella’s method of touching the spring; nor had he many
moments to make an essay. The noise of the falling door had been heard
by Manfred, who, directed by the sound, hastened thither, attended by his
servants with torches.
“It must be Isabella,” cried Manfred, before he entered the vault. “She
is escaping by the subterraneous passage, but she cannot have got far.”
What was the astonishment of the Prince when, instead of Isabella, the
light of the torches discovered to him the young peasant whom he thought
confined under the fatal helmet!
“Traitor!” said Manfred; “how camest thou here? I thought thee in
durance above in the court.”
“I am no traitor,” replied the young man boldly, “nor am I answerable for
your thoughts.”
“Presumptuous villain!” cried Manfred; “dost thou provoke my wrath? Tell
me, how hast thou escaped from above? Thou hast corrupted thy guards,
and their lives shall answer it.”
“My poverty,” said the peasant calmly, “will disculpate them: though the
ministers of a tyrant’s wrath, to thee they are faithful, and but too
willing to execute the orders which you unjustly imposed upon them.”
“Art thou so hardy as to dare my vengeance?” said the Prince; “but
tortures shall force the truth from thee. Tell me; I will know thy
accomplices.”
“There was my accomplice!” said the youth, smiling, and pointing to the
roof.
Manfred ordered the torches to be held up, and perceived that one of the
cheeks of the enchanted casque had forced its way through the pavement of
the court, as his servants had let it fall over the peasant, and had
broken through into the vault, leaving a gap, through which the peasant
had pressed himself some minutes before he was found by Isabella.
“Was that the way by which thou didst descend?” said Manfred.
“It was,” said the youth.
“But what noise was that,” said Manfred, “which I heard as I entered the
cloister?”
“A door clapped,” said the peasant; “I heard it as well as you.”
“What door?” said Manfred hastily.
“I am not acquainted with your castle,” said the peasant; “this is the
first time I ever entered it, and this vault the only part of it within
which I ever was.”
“But I tell thee,” said Manfred (wishing to find out if the youth had
discovered the trap-door), “it was this way I heard the noise. My
servants heard it too.”
“My Lord,” interrupted one of them officiously, “to be sure it was the
trap-door, and he was going to make his escape.”
“Peace, blockhead!” said the Prince angrily; “if he was going to escape,
how should he come on this side? I will know from his own mouth what
noise it was I heard. Tell me truly; thy life depends on thy veracity.”
“My veracity is dearer to me than my life,” said the peasant; “nor would
I purchase the one by forfeiting the other.”
“Indeed, young philosopher!” said Manfred contemptuously; “tell me, then,
what was the noise I heard?”
“Ask me what I can answer,” said he, “and put me to death instantly if I
tell you a lie.”
Manfred, growing impatient at the steady valour and indifference of the
youth, cried—
“Well, then, thou man of truth, answer! Was it the fall of the trap-door
that I heard?”
“It was,” said the youth.
“It was!” said the Prince; “and how didst thou come to know there was a
trap-door here?”
“I saw the plate of brass by a gleam of moonshine,” replied he.
“But what told thee it was a lock?” said Manfred. “How didst thou
discover the secret of opening it?”
“Providence, that delivered me from the helmet, was able to direct me to
the spring of a lock,” said he.
“Providence should have gone a little farther, and have placed thee out
of the reach of my resentment,” said Manfred. “When Providence had
taught thee to open the lock, it abandoned thee for a fool, who did not
know how to make use of its favours. Why didst thou not pursue the path
pointed out for thy escape? Why didst thou shut the trap-door before
thou hadst descended the steps?”
“I might ask you, my Lord,” said the peasant, “how I, totally
unacquainted with your castle, was to know that those steps led to any
outlet? but I scorn to evade your questions. Wherever those steps lead
to, perhaps I should have explored the way—I could not be in a worse
situation than I was. But the truth is, I let the trap-door fall: your
immediate arrival followed. I had given the alarm—what imported it to me
whether I was seized a minute sooner or a minute later?”
“Thou art a resolute villain for thy years,” said Manfred; “yet on
reflection I suspect thou dost but trifle with me. Thou hast not yet
told me how thou didst open the lock.”
“That I will show you, my Lord,” said the peasant; and, taking up a
fragment of stone that had fallen from above, he laid himself on the
trap-door, and began to beat on the piece of brass that covered it,
meaning to gain time for the escape of the Princess. This presence of
mind, joined to the frankness of the youth, staggered Manfred. He even
felt a disposition towards pardoning one who had been guilty of no crime.
Manfred was not one of those savage tyrants who wanton in cruelty
unprovoked. The circumstances of his fortune had given an asperity to
his temper, which was naturally humane; and his virtues were always ready
to operate, when his passions did not obscure his reason.
While the Prince was in this suspense, a confused noise of voices echoed
through the distant vaults. As the sound approached, he distinguished
the clamours of some of his domestics, whom he had dispersed through the
castle in search of Isabella, calling out—
“Where is my Lord? where is the Prince?”
“Here I am,” said Manfred, as they came nearer; “have you found the
Princess?”
The first that arrived, replied, “Oh, my Lord! I am glad we have found
you.”
“Found me!” said Manfred; “have you found the Princess?”
“We thought we had, my Lord,” said the fellow, looking terrified, “but—”
“But, what?” cried the Prince; “has she escaped?”
“Jaquez and I, my Lord—”
“Yes, I and Diego,” interrupted the second, who came up in still greater
consternation.
“Speak one of you at a time,” said Manfred; “I ask you, where is the
Princess?”
“We do not know,” said they both together; “but we are frightened out of
our wits.”
“So I think, blockheads,” said Manfred; “what is it has scared you thus?”
“Oh! my Lord,” said Jaquez, “Diego has seen such a sight! your Highness
would not believe our eyes.”
“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?”
“My gracious Lord,” said Jaquez, “if it please your Highness to hear me;
Diego and I, according to your Highness’s orders, went to search for the
young Lady; but being comprehensive that we might meet the ghost of my
young Lord, your Highness’s son, God rest his soul, as he has not
received Christian burial—”
“Sot!” cried Manfred in a rage; “is it only a ghost, then, that thou hast
seen?”