Category: Gothic

Wilkie Collins – The Woman in White

This is the story of what a Woman’s patience can endure, and what a Man’s resolution can achieve. If the machinery of the Law could be depended on to fathom every case of suspicion, and to conduct every process of inquiry, with moderate assistance only from the lubricating influences of oil of gold, the events […]

Nathaniel Hawthorne – The Marble Faun

Four individuals, in whose fortunes we should be glad to interest the reader, happened to be standing in one of the saloons of the sculpture-gallery in the Capitol at Rome. It was that room (the first, after ascending the staircase) in the centre of which reclines the noble and most pathetic figure of the Dying […]

Nathaniel Hawthorne – The House of the Seven Gables

HALFWAY down a by-street of one of our New England towns stands a rusty wooden house, with seven acutely peaked gables, facing towards various points of the compass, and a huge, clustered chimney in the midst. The street is Pyncheon Street; the house is the old Pyncheon House; and an elmtree, of wide circumference, rooted […]

Matthew Lewis – The Monk

——Lord Angelo is precise; Stands at a guard with envy; Scarce confesses That his blood flows, or that his appetite Is more to bread than stone. Measure for Measure. Scarcely had the Abbey Bell tolled for five minutes,and already was the Church of the Capuchins thronged with Auditors. Do not encourage the idea that the […]

Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu – Wylders Hand

It was late in the autumn, and I was skimming along, through a rich English county, in a postchaise, among tall hedgerows gilded, like all the landscape, with the slanting beams of sunset. The road makes a long and easy descent into the little town of Gylingden, and down this we were going at an […]

Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu – Uncle Silas

It was winter—that is, about the second week in November—and great gusts were rattling at the windows, and wailing and thundering among our tall trees and ivied chimneys—a very dark night, and a very cheerful fire blazing, a pleasant mixture of good round coal and spluttering dry wood, in a genuine old fireplace, in a […]

Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu – The House by the Church-Yard

We are going to talk, if you please, in the ensuing chapters, of what was going on in Chapelizod about a hundred years ago. A hundred years, to be sure, is a good while; but though fashions have changed, some old phrases dropped out, and new ones come in; and snuff and hair-powder, and sacques […]

Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu – The Evil Guest

“When Lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth Sin: and Sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth Death.” About sixty years ago, and somewhat more than twenty miles from the ancient town of Chester, in a southward direction, there stood a large, and, even then, an old-fashioned mansion-house. It lay in the midst of a demesne […]

Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu – Carmilla

In Styria, we, though by no means magnificent people, inhabit a castle, or schloss. A small income, in that part of the world, goes a great way. Eight or nine hundred a year does wonders. Scantily enough ours would have answered among wealthy people at home. My father is English, and I bear an English […]

James Malcom Rymer – Varney the Vampire

——”How graves give up their dead. And how the night air hideous grows With shrieks!” The solemn tones of an old cathedral clock have announced midnight—the air is thick and heavy— a strange, death like stillness pervades all nature. Like the ominous calm which precedes some more than usually terrific outbreak of the elements, they […]

Hume Nisbet – The Vampire Maid

It was the exact kind of abode that I had been looking after for weeks, for I was in that condition of mind when absolute renunciation of society was a necessity. I had become diffident of myself, and wearied of my kind. A strange unrest was in my blood; a barren dearth in my brains. […]

Horace Walpole – The Castle of Otranto

Manfred, Prince of Otranto, had one son and one daughter: the latter, a most beautiful virgin, aged eighteen, was called Matilda. Conrad, the son, was three years younger, a homely youth, sickly, and of no promising disposition; yet he was the darling of his father, who never showed any symptoms of affection to Matilda. Manfred […]

George Sylvester Viereck – The House of the Vampire

The freakish little leader of the orchestra, newly imported from Sicily to New York, tossed his conductor’s wand excitedly through the air, drowning with musical thunders the hum of conversation and the clatter of plates. Yet neither his apish demeanour nor the deafening noises that responded to every movement of his agile body detracted attention […]

George Eliot – The Lifted Veil

The time of my end approaches. I have lately been subject to attacks of angina pectoris; and in the ordinary course of things, my physician tells me, I may fairly hope that my life will not be protracted many months. Unless, then, I am cursed with an exceptional physical constitution, as I am cursed with […]

George du Maurier – Trilby

‘Mimi Pinson est une blonde,’ Une blonde que l’on connait; Elle n’a qu’une robe au monde. Launderirette! et qu’un bonnet!’ IT WAS A FINE, SUNNY, showery day in April. The big studio window was open at the top, and let in a pleasant breeze from the north-west. Things were beginning to look shipshape at last. […]

Charles Robert Maturin – Melmoth the Wanderer (Lock and Key Version)

John Melmoth, student at Trinity College, Dublin, having journeyed to County Wicklow for attendance at the deathbed of his miserly uncle, finds the old man, even in his last moments, tortured by avarice, and by suspicion of all around him. He whispers to John: “I want a glass of wine, it would keep me alive […]

Charles Brockden Brown – Wieland or, The Transformation

I feel little reluctance in complying with your request. You know not fully the cause of my sorrows. You are a stranger to the depth of my distresses. Hence your efforts at consolation must necessarily fail. Yet the tale that I am going to tell is not intended as a claim upon your sympathy. In […]

Bram Stoker – The Man

‘I would rather be an angel than God!’ The voice of the speaker sounded clearly through the hawthorn tree. The young man and the young girl who sat together on the low tombstone looked at each other. They had heard the voices of the two children talking, but had not noticed what they said; it […]

Ann Radcliffe – The Mysteries of Udolpho

Home is the resort Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where, Supporting and supported, polish’d friends And dear relations mingle into bliss. Thomson On the pleasant banks of the Garonne, in the province of Gascony, stood, in the year 1584, the chateau of Monsieur St. Aubert. From its windows were seen the pastoral […]

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