The light of Hawthorne's imagination is directed mainly on three characters—Hester, Arthur, and the elf-like child Pearl, the living symbol of their union. Further in the background lurks the malignant figure of Roger Chillingworth, contriving his fiendish scheme of vengeance, "violating in cold blood the sanctity of a human heart." The blaze of the Scarlet Letter compels us by a strange magnetic power to follow Hester Prynne wherever she goes, but her suffering is less acute and her character less intricate than her lover's. She bears the outward badge of shame, but after "wandering without a clue in the dark labyrinth of mind," wins a dull respite from anguish as she glides "like a grey and sober shadow" over the threshold of those who are visited by sorrow. At the last, when Dimmesdale's spirit is "so shattered and subdued that it could hardly hold itself erect," Hester has still energy to plan and to act. His character is more twisted and tortuous than hers, and to understand him we must visit him apart. The sensitive nature that can endure physical pain but shrinks piteously from moral torture, the capacity for deep and passionate feeling, the strange blending of pride and abject self-loathing, of cowardice and resolve, are portrayed with extraordinary skill. The different strands of his character are "intertwined in an inextricable knot." His is a living soul, complicated and varying in its moods, but ever pursued by a sense of sin. By one of Hawthorne's swift, uncanny flashes of insight, as Dimmesdale goes home after the forest-meeting, we hear nothing of the wild beatings of hope and dreary revulsions to despair, but only of foul, grotesque temptations that assail him, just as earlier—on the pillory—it is the grim humour and not the frightful shame of the situation that strikes him, when by an odd trick of his imagination he suddenly pictures a "whole tribe of decorous personages starting into view with the disorder of a nightmare in their aspects," to look upon their minister.

Hawthorne's delineation of character and motive is as scrupulously accurate and scientific as Godwin's, but there is none of Godwin's inhumanity in his attitude. His complete understanding of human weakness makes pity superfluous and undignified. He pronounces no judgment and offers no plea for mercy. His instinct is to present the story as it appeared through the eyes of those who enacted the drama or who witnessed it. Stern and inexorable as one of his own witch-judging ancestors, Hawthorne foils the lovers' plan of escape across the sea, lets the minister die as soon as he has made the revelation that gives him his one moment of victory, and in the conclusion brings Hester back to take up her long-forsaken symbol of shame. Pearl alone Hawthorne sets free, the spell which bound her human sympathies broken by the kiss she bestows on her guilty father. There are few passionate outbursts of feeling, save when Hester momentarily unlocks her heart in the forest—and even here Hawthorne's language is extraordinarily restrained:

"'What we did had a consecration of its own. We felt it so! We said so to each other. Hast thou forgotten it?' 'Hush, Hester!' said Arthur Dimmesdale, rising from the ground. 'No; I have not forgotten.'"

Or again, after Dimmesdale has confessed that he has neither strength nor courage left him to venture into the world: "'Thou shalt not go alone!' answered she, in a deep whisper. Then all was spoken."

In The House of the Seven Gables (1851), as in The Scarlet Letter, Hawthorne again presents his scenes in the light of a single, pervading idea, this time an ancestral curse, symbolised by the portrait of Colonel Pyncheon, who condemned an innocent man for witchcraft.

"To the thoughtful man there will be no tinge of superstition in what we figuratively express, by affirming that the ghost of a dead progenitor—perhaps as a portion of his own punishment—is often doomed to become the Evil Genius of his family."

Hawthorne wins his effect by presenting the idea to our minds from different points of view, until we are obsessed by the curse that broods heavily over the old house. Even the aristocratic breed of fowls, of "queer, rusty, withered aspect," are an emblem of the decay of the Pyncheon family. The people are apt to be merged into the dense shadows that lurk in the gloomy passages, but when the sun shines on them they stand out with arresting distinctness. The heroic figure of Hepzibah Pyncheon, a little ridiculous and a little forbidding of aspect, but cherishing through weary years a passionate devotion to her brother, is described with a gentle blending of humour and pathos. Clifford Pyncheon—the sybarite made for happiness and hideously cheated of his destiny—is delineated with curious insight and sympathy. It is Judge Jaffery Pyncheon, with his "sultry" smile of "elaborate benevolence"—unrelenting and crafty as his infamous ancestor—who lends to The House of Seven Gables the element of terror. Hour after hour, Hawthorne, with grim and bitter irony, mocks and taunts the dead body of the hypocritical judge until the ghostly pageantry of dead Pyncheons—including at last Judge Jaffery himself with the fatal crimson stain on his neckcloth—fades away with the oncoming of daylight.

Hawthorne's mind was richly stored with "wild chimney-corner legends," many of them no doubt gleaned from an old woman mentioned in one of his Tales and Sketches. He takes over the fantastic superstitions in which his ancestors had believed, and uses them as the playthings of his fancy, picturing with malicious mirth the grey shadows of his stern, dark-browed forefathers sadly lamenting his lapse from grace and saying one to the other:

"A writer of story-books! What kind of a business in life, what manner of glorifying God, or being serviceable to mankind in his day and generation may that be? Why, the degenerate fellow might as well have been a fiddler."

The story of Alice Pyncheon, the maiden under the dreadful power of a wizard, who, to wreak his revenge, compelled her to surrender her will to his and to do whatsoever he list, the legends of ghosts and spectres in the Twice-Told Tales, the allusions to the elixir of life in his Notebooks, the introduction of witches into The Scarlet Letter, of mesmerism into The Blithedale Romance, show how often Hawthorne was pre-occupied with the terrors of magic and of the invisible world. He handles the supernatural in a half-credulous, half-sportive spirit, neither affirming nor denying his belief. One of his artful devices is wilfully to cast doubt upon his fancies, and so to pique us into the desire to be momentarily at least one of the foolish and imaginative.

After writing The Blithedale Romance, in which he embodied his experiences at Brook Farm, and his Italian romance, Transformation, or The Marble Faun, Hawthorne, when his health was failing, strove to find expression for the theme of immortality, which had always exercised a strange fascination upon him. In August, 1855, during his consulate in Liverpool, he visited Smithell's Hall, near Bolton, and heard the legend of the Bloody Footstep. He thought of uniting this story with that of the elixir of life, but ultimately decided to treat the story of the footstep in Dr. Grimshawe's Secret, of which only a fragment was written, and to embody the elixir idea in a separate work, Septimius Felton, of which two unfinished versions exist. Septimius Felton, a young man living in Concord at the time of the war of the Revolution, tries to brew the potion of eternity by adding to a recipe, which his aunt has derived from the Indians, the flowers which spring from the grave of a man whom he has slain. In Dr. Dolliver's Romance, Hawthorne, so far as we may judge from the fragment which remains, seems to be working out an idea jotted down in his notebook several years earlier:

"A man arriving at the extreme point of old age grows young again at the same pace at which he had grown old, returning upon his path throughout the whole of life, and thus taking the reverse view of matters. Methinks it would give rise to some odd concatenations."

The story, which opens with a charming description of Dr. Dolliver and his great-grandchild, Pansie, breaks off so abruptly that it is impossible to forecast the "odd concatenations" that had flashed through Hawthorne's mind.

Although Hawthorne is preoccupied continually with the thought of death, his outlook is melancholy, not morbid. He recoils fastidiously from the fleshly and loses himself in the spiritual. He is concerned with mournful reflections, not frightful events. It is the mystery of death, not its terror, that fascinates him. Sensitive and susceptible himself, he never startles us with physical horrors. He does not search with curious ingenuity for recondite terrors. He was compelled as if by some wizard's strange power, to linger in earth's shadowed places; but the scenes that throng his memory are reflected in quiet, subdued tones. His pictures are never marred by harsh lines or crude colours.

While Hawthorne in his Twice-Told Tales was toying pensively with spectral forms and "dark ideas," Edgar Allan Poe was penetrating intrepidly into trackless regions of terror. Where Hawthorne would have shrunk back, repelled and disgusted, Poe, wildly exhilarated by the anticipation of a new and excruciating thrill, forced his way onwards. He sought untiringly for unusual situations, inordinately gloomy or terrible, and made them the starting point for excursions into abnormal psychology. Just as Hawthorne harps with plaintive insistence on the word "sombre," Poe again and again uses the epithet "novel." His tales are never, as Hawthorne's often are, pathetic. His instinct is always towards the dramatic. Sometimes he rises to tragic heights, sometimes he is merely melodramatic. He rejoices in theatrical effects, like the death-throes of William Wilson, the return of the lady Ligeia, or the entry, awaited with torturing suspense, of the "lofty" and enshrouded figure of the Lady Madeline of Usher. Like Hawthorne, Poe was fascinated by the thought of death, "the hemlock and the cypress overshadowed him night and day," but he describes death accompanied by its direst physical and mental agonies. Hawthorne broods over the idea of sin, but Poe probes curiously into the psychology of crime. The one is detached and remote, the other inhuman and passionless. The contrast in style between Hawthorne and Poe reflects clearly their difference in temper. Hawthorne writes always with easy, finished perfection, choosing the right word unerringly, Poe experiments with language, painfully acquiring a conscious, studied form of expression which is often remarkably effective, but which almost invariably suggests a sense of artifice. In reading The Scarlet Letter we do not think of the style; in reading The Masque of the Red Death we are forcibly impressed by the skilful arrangement of words, the alternation of long and short sentences, the device of repetition and the deliberate choice of epithets. Hawthorne uses his own natural form of expression. Poe, with laborious art, fashions an instrument admirably adapted to his purposes.

Poe's earliest published story, A Manuscript Found in a Bottle—the prize tale for the Baltimore Saturday Visitor, 1833—proves that he soon recognised his peculiar vein of talent. He straightway takes the tale of terror for his own. The experiences of a sailor, shipwrecked in the Simoom and hurled on the crest of a towering billow into a gigantic ship manned by a hoary crew who glide uneasily to and fro "like the ghosts of buried centuries," forecast the more frightful horrors of A Descent into the Maelstrom (1841). Poe's method in both stories is to induce belief by beginning with a circumstantial narrative of every-day events, and by proceeding to relate the most startling phenomena in the same calm, matter-of-fact manner. The whirling abyss of the Maelstrom in which the tiny boat is engulfed, and the sensations of the fishermen—awe, wonder, horror, curiosity, hope, alternating or intermingled—are described with the same quiet precision as the trivial preliminary adventures. The man's dreary expectation of incredulity seals our conviction of the truth of his story. In The Manuscript Found in a Bottle, too, we may trace the first suggestion of that idea which finds its most complete and memorable expression in Ligeia (1837). The antique ship, with its preternaturally aged crew "doomed to hover continually upon the brink of eternity, without taking a final plunge into the abyss," is an early foreshadowing of the fulfilment of Joseph Glanvill's declaration so strikingly illustrated in the return of Ligeia: "Man doth not yield himself to the angels, nor unto death utterly, save only through the weakness of his feeble will." In Ligeia, Poe concentrates on this idea with singleness of purpose. He had striven to embody it in his earlier sketches, in Morella, where the beloved is reincarnated in the form of her own child, in the musical, artificial Eleonora and in the gruesome Berenice. In Ligeia, at last, it finds its appropriate setting in the ebony bridal-chamber, hung with gold tapestries grotesquely embroidered with fearful shapes and constantly wafted to and fro, like those in one of the Episodes of Vathek. In The Fall of the House of Usher he adapts the theme which he had approached in the sketch entitled Premature Burial, and unites with it a subtler conception, the sentience of the vegetable world. Like the guest of Roderick Usher, as we enter the house we fall immediately beneath the overmastering sway of its irredeemable, insufferable gloom. The melancholy building, Usher's wild musical improvisations, his vague but awful paintings, his mystical reading and his eerie verses with the last haunting stanza:

"And travellers now within that valley Through the red-litten windows, see Vast forms that move fantastically To a discordant melody; While, like a rapid, ghastly river, Through the pale door, A hideous throng rush out forever And laugh—but smile no more,"

are all in harmony with the fate that broods over the family of Usher. Poe's gift for avoiding all impressions alien to his effect lends to his tales extraordinary unity of tone and colour. He leads up to his crisis with a gradual crescendo of emotion. The climax, hideous and terrifying, relieves the intensity of our feelings, and once it is past Poe rapidly hastens to the only possible conclusion. The dreary house with its vacant, eye-like windows reflected at the outset in the dark, unruffled tarn, disappears for ever beneath its surface.

In The Masque of the Red Death the imagery changes from moment to moment, each scene standing out clear in colour and sharp in outline; but from first to last the perspective of the whole is kept steadily in view. No part is disproportionate or inappropriate. The arresting overture describing the swift and sudden approach of the Red Death, the gay, thoughtless security of Prince Prospero and his guests within the barricaded abbey, the voluptuous masquerade held in a suite of seven rooms of seven hues, the disconcerting chime of the ebony clock that momentarily stills the grotesque figures of the dancers, prepare us for the dramatic climax, the entry of the audacious guest, the Red Death, and his struggle with Prince Prospero. The story closes as it began with the triumph of the Red Death. Poe achieves his powerful effect with rigid economy of effort. He does not add an unnecessary touch.

In The Cask of Amontillado—perhaps the most terrible and the most perfectly executed of all Poe's tales—the note of grim irony is sustained throughout. The jingling of the bells and the devilish profanity of the last three words—Requiescat in pace—add a final touch of horror to a revenge, devised and carried out with consummate artistry.

Poe, like Hawthorne, loved to peer curiously into the dim recesses of conscience. Hawthorne was concerned with the effect of remorse on character. Poe often exhibits a conscience possessed by the imp of the perverse, and displays no interest in the character of his victim. He chooses no ordinary crimes. He considers, without De Quincey's humour, murder as a fine art. In The Black Cat the terrors are calculated with cold-blooded nicety. Every device is used to deepen the impression and to intensify the agony. In The Tell-Tale Heart, so unremitting is the suspense, as the murderer slowly inch by inch projects his head round the door in the darkness, that it is well-nigh intolerable. The close of the story, which errs on the side of the melodramatic, is less cunningly contrived than Poe's endings usually are. In William Wilson, Poe handles the subject of conscience in an allegorical form, a theme essayed by Bulwer Lytton in one of his sketches in The Student, Monos and Daimonos. He probably influenced Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

In The Pit and the Pendulum, Poe seems to start from the very border-line of the most hideous nightmare that the human mind can conceive, yet there is nothing hazy or indefinite in his analysis of the feelings of his victim. He speaks as one who has experienced the sensations himself, not as one who is making a wild surmise. To read is, indeed, to endure in some measure the torture of the prisoner; but our pain is alleviated not only by the realisation that we at least may win respite when we will, but by our appreciation of Poe's subtle technique. He notices the readiness of the mind, when racked unendurably, to concentrate on frivolous trifles—the exact shape and size of the dungeon; or the sound of the scythe cutting through cloth. Mental and physical agonies are interchanged with careful art.

Poe's constructive power fitted him admirably to write the detective story. In The Mystery of M. Roget he adopts a dull plot without sufficient vigour and originality to rivet our attention, but The Murders of the Rue Morgue secures our interest from beginning to end. As in the case of Godwin's Caleb Williams, the end was conceived first and the plot was carefully woven backwards. No single thread is left loose. Dupin's methods of ratiocination are similar to those of Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes. Poe never shirks a gory detail, but the train of reasoning not the imagery absorbs us in his detective stories. In his treasure story—The Gold Bug, which may have suggested Stevenson's Treasure Island—he compels our interest by the intricacy and elaboration of his problem.

The works of Mrs. Radcliffe, Lewis, and Maturin were not unknown to Poe, and he refers more than once to the halls of Vathek. From Gothic romance he may perhaps vivid that they make the senses ache. Like Maturin, he even resorts to italics to enforce his effect. He crashes down heavily on a chord which would resound at a touch. He is liable too to descend into vulgarity in his choice of phrases. His tales consequently gain in style in the translations of Baudelaire. But these aberrations occur mainly in his inferior work. In his most highly wrought stories, such as Amontillado, The House of Usher, or The Masque of the Red Death, the execution is flawless. In these, Poe never lost sight of the ideal, which, in his admirable review of Hawthorne's Twice-Told Tales and Mosses from an Old Manse, he set before the writer of short stories:

"A skilful literary artist has constructed a tale ... having conceived, with deliberate care, a certain unique or single effect to be wrought out, he then invents such incidents—he then combines such events—as may best aid him in establishing this preconceived effect. If his very initial sentence tend not to the outbringing of this effect, he has failed in the first step. In the whole composition there should be no word written of which the tendency direct or indirect is not to the one pre-established design."

While he was writing, Poe did not for a moment let his imagination run riot. The outline of the story was so distinctly conceived, its atmosphere so familiar to him, that he had leisure to choose his words accurately, and to dispose his sentences harmoniously, with the final effect ever steadily in view. The impression that he swiftly flashes across our minds is deep and enduring.



CHAPTER XII - CONCLUSION.

This book is an attempt to trace in outline the origin and development of the Gothic romance and the tale of terror. Such a survey is necessarily incomplete. For more than fifty years after the publication of The Castle of Otranto the Gothic Romance remained a definitely recognised kind of fiction; but, as the scope of the novel gradually came to include the whole range of human expression, it lost its individuality, and was merged into other forms. To follow every trail of its influence would lead us far afield. The Tale of Terror, if we use the term in its wider sense, may be said to include the magnificent story of the Writing on the Wall at Belshazzar's Feast, the Book of Job, the legends of the Deluge and of the Tower of Babel, and Saul's Visit to the Witch of Endor, which Byron regarded as the best ghost story in the world. In the Hebrew writings fear is used to endow a hero with superhuman powers or to instil a moral truth. The sun stands still in the heavens that Joshua may prevail over his enemies. In modern days the tale of terror is told for its own sake. It has become an end in itself, and is probably appreciated most fully by those who are secure from peril. It satisfies the human desire to experience new emotions and sensations, without actual danger.

There is little doubt that the Gothic Romance primarily made its appeal to women readers, though we know that Mrs. Radcliffe had many men among her admirers, and that Cherubina of The Heroine had a companion in folly, The Story-Haunted Youth. It is remotely allied, as its name implies, to the mediaeval romances, at which Cervantes tilts in Don Quixote. It was more closely akin, however, to the heroic romances satirised in Mrs. Charlotte Lennox's Female Quixote (1752). When the voluminous works of Le Calprenede and of Mademoiselle de Scudery were translated into English, they found many imitators and admirers, and their vogue outlasted the seventeenth century. Artamene ou le Grand Cyrus, out of which Mrs. Pepys told her husband long stories, "though nothing to the purpose, nor in any good manner," is to be found, with a pin stuck through one of the middle leaves, in the lady's library described by Addison in the Spectator, Mrs. Aphra Behn, in Oroonoko and The Fair Jilt, had made some attempt to bring romance nearer to real life; but it was not until the middle of the eighteenth century, when the novel, with the rise of Richardson, Fielding, Smollett and Sterne, took firm root on English soil, that the popularity of Cassandra, Parthenissa and Aretina was superseded. Then, if we may trust the evidence of Colman's farce, Polly Honeycombe, first acted in 1760, Pamela, Clarissa Harlowe and Sophia Western reigned in their stead. For the reader who had patiently followed the eddying, circling course of the heroic romance, with its high-flown language and marvellous adventures, Richardson's novel of sentiment probably held more attraction than Fielding's novel of manners. Fielding, on his broad canvas, paints the life of his day on the highway, in coaches, taverns, sponging-houses or at Vauxhall masquerades. Every class of society is represented, from the vagabond to the noble lord. Richardson, in describing the shifts and subterfuges of Mr. B—and the elaborate intrigue of Lovelace, moves within a narrow circle, devoting himself, not to the portrayal of character, but to the minute analysis of a woman's heart. The sentiment of Richardson descends to Mrs. Radcliffe. Her heroines are fashioned in the likeness of Clarissa Harlowe; her heroes inherit many of the traits of the immaculate Grandison. She adds zest to her plots by wafting her heroines to distant climes and bygone centuries, and by playing on their nerves with superstitious fears. Since human nature often looks to fiction for a refuge from the world, there is always room for the illusion of romance side by side with the picture of actual life. Fanny Burney's spirited record of Evelina's visit to her vulgar, but human, relatives, the Branghtons, in London, is not enough. We need too the sojourn of Emily, with her thick-coming fancies, in the castle of Udolpho.

The Gothic Romance did not reflect real life, or reveal character, or display humour. Its aim was different. It was full of sentimentality, and it stirred the emotions of pity and fear. The ethereal, sensitive heroine, suffering through no fault of her own, could not fail to win sympathy. The hero was pale, melancholy, and unfortunate enough to be attractive. The villain, bold and desperate in his crimes, was secretly admired as well as feared. Hairbreadth escapes and wicked intrigues in castles built over beetling precipices were sufficiently outside the reader's own experience to produce a thrill. Ghosts, and rumours of ghosts, touched nearly the eighteenth century reader, who had often listened, with bated breath, to winter's tales of spirits seen on Halloween in the churchyard, or white-robed spectres encountered in dark lanes and lonely ruins. In country houses like those described in Miss Austen's novels, where life was diversified only by paying calls, dining out, taking gentle exercise or playing round games like "commerce" or "word-making and work-taking," the Gothic Romances must have proved a welcome source of pleasurable excitement. Mr. Woodhouse, with his melancholy views on the effects of wedding cake and muffin, would have condemned them, no doubt, as unwholesome; Lady Catherine de Bourgh would have been too impatient to read them; but Lydia Bennet, Elinor Dashwood and Isabella Thorpe must have found in them an inestimable solace. Their fame was soon overshadowed by that of the Waverley Novels, but they had served their turn in providing an entertaining interlude before the arrival of Sir Walter Scott. Even at the very height of his vogue, they probably enjoyed a surreptitious popularity, not merely in the servants' hall, but in the drawing room. Nineteenth century literature abounds in references to the vogue of this school of fiction. There were spasmodic attempts at a revival in an anonymous work called Forman (1819), dedicated to Scott, and in Ainsworth's Rookwood (1834); and terror has never ceased to be used as a motive in fiction.

In Villette, Lucy Snowe, whose nerves Ginevra describes as "real iron and bend leather," gazes steadily for the space of five minutes at the spectral "nun." This episode indicates a change of fashion; for the lady of Gothic romance could not have submitted to the ordeal for five seconds without fainting. A more robust heroine, who thinks clearly and yet feels strongly, has come into her own. In Jane Eyre many of the situations are fraught with terror, but it is the power of human passion, transcending the hideous scenes, that grips our imagination. Terror is used as a means to an end, not as an end in itself. In Wuthering Heights the windswept Yorkshire moors are the background for elemental feelings. We no longer "tremble with delicious dread" or "snatch a fearful joy." The gloom never lightens. We live ourselves beneath the shadow of Heathcliff's awe-inspiring personality, and there is no escape from a terror, which passes almost beyond the bounds of speech. The Brontes do not trifle with emotion or use supernatural elements to increase the tension. Theirs are the terrors of actual life.

Other novelists, contemporary with the Brontes, revel in terror for its own sake. Wilkie Collins weaves elaborate plots of hair-raising events. The charm of The Moonstone and the Woman in White is independent of character or literary finish. It consists in the unravelling of a skilfully woven fabric. Le Fanu, who resented the term "sensational" which was justly applied to his works, plays pitilessly on our nerves with both real and fictitious horrors. He, like Wilkie Collins, made a cult of terror. Their literary descendants may perhaps be found in such authors as Richard Marsh or Bram Stoker, or Sax Rohmer. In Bram Stoker's Dracula the old vampire legend is brought up to date, and we are held from beginning to end in a state of frightful suspense. No one who has read the book will fail to remember the picture of Dracula climbing up the front of the castle in Transylvania, or the scene in the tomb when a stake is driven through the heart of the vampire who has taken possession of Lucy's form. The ineffable horror of the "Un-Dead" would repel us by its painfulness, if it were not made endurable by the love, hope and faith of the living characters, particularly of the old Dutch doctor, Van Helsing. The matter-of-fact style of the narrative, which is compiled of letters, diaries and journals, and the mention of such familiar places as Whitby and Hampstead, help to enhance the illusion.

The motive of terror has often been mingled with other motives in the novel as well as in the short tale. In unwinding the complicated thread of the modern detective story, which follows the design originated by Godwin and perfected by Poe, we are frequently kept to our task by the force of terror as well as of curiosity. In The Sign of Four and in The Hound of the Baskervilles, to choose two entirely different stories, Conan Doyle realises that darkness and loneliness place us at the mercy of terror, and he works artfully on our fears of the unknown. Phillips Oppenheim and William Le Queux, in romances which have sometimes a background of international politics, maintain our interest by means of mystifications, which screw up our imagination to the utmost pitch, and then let us down gently with a natural but not too obvious explanation. A certain amount of terror is almost essential to heighten the interest of a novel of costume and adventure, like The Prisoner of Zenda or Rupert of Hentzau, or of the fantastic, exciting romances of Jules Verne. Rider Haggard's African romances, She and King Solomon's Mines, belong to a large group of supernatural tales with a foreign setting. They combine strangeness, wonder, mystery and horror. The ancient theme of bartering souls is given a new twist in Robert Hichens' novel, The Flames. E.F. Benson, in The Image in the Sand, experiments with Oriental magic. The investigations of the Society for Psychical Research gave a new impulse to stories of the occult and the uncanny. Algernon Blackwood is one of the most ingenious exponents of this type of story. By means of psychical explanations, he succeeds in revivifying many ancient superstitions. In Dr. John Silence, even the werewolf, whom we believed extinct, manifests himself in modern days among a party of cheerful campers on a lonely island, and brings unspeakable terror in his trail. Sometimes terror is used nowadays, as Bulwer Lytton used it, to serve a moral purpose. Oscar Wilde's Picture of Dorian Gray is intended to show that sin must ultimately affect the soul; and the Sorrows of Satan, in Miss Corelli's novel, are caused by the wickedness of the world. But apart from any ulterior motive there is still a desire for the unusual, there is still pleasure to be found in a thrill, and so long as this human instinct endures devices will be found for satisfying it. Of the making of tales of terror there is no end; and almost every novelist of note has, at one time or another, tried his hand at the art. Early in his career Arnold Bennett fashioned a novelette, Hugo, which may be read as a modernised version of the Gothic romance. Instead of subterranean vaults in a deserted abbey, we have the strong rooms of an enterprising Sloane Street emporium. The coffin, containing an image of the heroine, is buried not in a mouldering chapel, but in a suburban cemetery. The lovely but harassed heroine has fallen, indeed, from her high estate, for Camilla earns her living as a milliner. There are, it is true, no sonnets and no sunsets, but the excitement of the plot, which is partially unfolded by means of a phonographic record, renders them superfluous. H.G. Wells makes excursions into quasi-scientific, fantastic realms of grotesque horror in his First Men in the Moon, and in some of his sketches and short stories. Joseph Conrad has the power of fear ever at the command of his romantic imagination. In The Nigger of the Narcissus, in Typhoon, and, above all, in The Shadow-Line, he shows his supreme mastery over inexpressible mystery and nameless terror. The voyage of the schooner, doomed by the evil influence of her dead captain, is comparable only in awe and horror to that of The Ancient Mariner. Conrad touches unfathomable depths of human feelings, and in his hands the tale of terror becomes a finished work of art. The future of the tale of terror it is impossible to predict; but the experiments of living authors, who continually find new outlets with the advance of science and of psychological enquiry, suffice to prove that its powers are not yet exhausted. Those who make the 'moving accident' their trade will no doubt continue to assail us with the shock of startling and sensational events. Others with more insidious art, will set themselves to devise stories which evoke subtler refinements of fear. The interest has already been transferred from 'bogle-wark' to the effect of the inexplicable, the mysterious and the uncanny on human thought and emotion. It may well be that this track will lead us into unexplored labyrinths of terror.



NOTES:

[1: Frazer, Folklore of the Old Testament, I. iv. sec. 2.]

[2: Cock Lane and Common Sense, 1894.]

[3: Spectator, No. 12.]

[4: Spectator, No. 110.]

[5: Boswell, Life of Johnson, June 12th, 1784.]

[6: Tom Jones, Bk. xvi. ch. v.]

[7: Letter to Dr. Moore, Aug. 2, 1787.]

[8: Ashton, Chapbooks of the Eighteenth Century, 1882.]

[9: Advertisement to Cloudesley, 1830.]

[10: Preface to Mandeville, Oct. 25, 1817.]

[11: Letters, vii. 27.]

[12: The Uncommercial Traveller.]

[13: Odyssey, xi.]

[14: April 17, 1765.]

[15: Nov. 13, 1784.]

[16: June 12, 1753.]

[17: Remarks on Italy.]

[18: Aug. 4, 1753.]

[19: Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay, vol. ii. Appendix ii.: A Visit to Strawberry Hill in 1786.]

[20: Jan. 5, 1766.]

[21: July 15, 1783.]

[22: March 26, 1765.]

[23: Nov. 5, 1782.]

[24: It has been pointed out (Scott, Lives of the Novelists, note) that in Lope de Vega's Jerusalem the picture of Noradine stalks from its panel and addresses Saladine.]

[25: Cf. Wallace, Blind Harry.]

[26: Preface, 1764.]

[27: Ch. XX.]

[28: Ch. XXXIV.]

[29: Ch. lxii.]

[30: Jan. 27, 1780.]

[31: Letters, April 8, 1778, and Jan. 27, 1780.]

[32: Poetical Works, ed. Sampson, p. 8.]

[33: Translated Blackwood's Magazine, 1820 (Nov.). Cf. Scott, Bridal of Triermain.]

[34: E.g. Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay, June 18, 1795; Mathias, Pursuits of Literature, 14th ed. 1808, p. 56; Scott, Lives of the Novelists; Extracts from the Diary of a Lover of Literature (1810); Byron, Childe Harold, iv. xviii.; Thackeray, Newcomes, chs. xi., xxviii.; Bronte, Shirley, ch. xxvii; Trollope, Barchester Towers, ch. xv., etc.]

[35: Family Letters, 1908.]

[36: Reprinted, Romancist and Novelist's Library.]

[37: Journeys of Mrs. Radcliffe, 2nd ed., 1795, vol. ii. p. 171.]

[38: Noctes Ambrosianae, ed. 1855, vol. i. p. 201.]

[39: Lecture on The English Novelists.]

[40: Life and Correspondence of M. G. Lewis, 1839, i. 122.]

[41: Life and Correspondence, July 22nd, 1794.]

[42: Essay on The State of German Literature.]

[43: Southey, Preface to Madoc.]

[44: Life and Correspondence, Feb. 23, 1798.]

[45: Letter to John Murray, Aug. 23rd, 1814.]

[46: Monthly Review, June, 1797.]

[47: No. 148.]

[48: Cf. Musaeus: Die Entfuehrung.]

[49: Marmion, Canto ii. Intro.]

[50: Reprinted, Romancist and Novelist's Library, vol. i. 1839.]

[51: Essay on German Playwrights.]

[52: English Bards and Scotch Reviewers (1809).]

[53: Many of these were issued by B. Crosby, Stationers' Court.]

[54: Recollections of the Table-Talk of Samuel Rogers, 1856, p. 138.]

[55: Trans. from the German of Christian August Vulpius.]

[56: Cf. Thackeray, "Tunbridge Toys" (Roundabout Papers).]

[57: English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.]

[58: Gentleman's Magazine, 1825; and memoir prefixed to the edition of Melmoth the Wanderer, published in 1892.]

[59: Prose Works, 1851, vol. xviii.]

[60: Letters and Memoir, 1895, vol. i. p. 101.]

[61: Life (Melville), 1909, vol. i. p. 79.]

[62: Letters, 2nd Series, 1872, vol. i. p. 101.]

[63: Gustave Planche, Portraits Litteraires.]

[64: Cf. Stevenson's Bottle-Imp.]

[65: Edinburgh Review, July 1821.]

[66: Conant, The Oriental Tale in England, pp. 36-38.]

[67: Conant, The Oriental Tale in England, pp. 36-38.]

[68: Letter to Henley, Jan. 29, 1782.]

[69: Life and Letters, Melville, 1910, p. 20.]

[70: Life and Letters, 1910, p. 20.]

[71: Memoirs, Journal and Correspondence of Thomas Moore, 1853, vol. ii. p. 197.]

[72: Nov. 24, 1777, Life and Letters, p. 40.]

[73: Austen Leigh, Memoir of Jane Austen.]

[74: Letter to William Godwin, Dec. 7, 1817.]

[75: William Godwin: His Friends and Contemporaries. Kegan Paul, 1876, vol. i. p. 78.]

[76: Preface to Fleetwood, 1832.]

[77: Preface to Fleetwood, 1832.]

[78: Preface to Fleetwood, 1832, p. xi: "I read over a little old book entitled The Adventures of Mme. De St. Phale, I turned over the pages of a tremendous compilation entitled God's Revenge against Murder, where the beam of the eye of omniscience was represented as perpetually pursuing the guilty... I was extremely conversant with The Newgate Calendar and The Lives of the Pirates. I rather amused myself with tracing a certain similitude between the story of Caleb Williams and the tale of Bluebeard;" and Preface to Cloudesley: "The present publication may in the same sense be denominated a paraphrase of the old ballad of the Children in the Wood."]

[79: Scott, Introduction to The Abbot, 1831.]

[80: William Godwin: His Friends and Contemporaries, 1876, vol. ii. p. 304.]

[81: Caleb Williams, ch. x.]

[82: William Godwin: His Friends and Contemporaries, vol. i. pp. 330-1.]

[83: Political Justice, bk. ii, ch. ii.]

[84: William Godwin: His Friends and Contemporaries, vol. i. pp. 330-1; Preface to 1st edition, 1799.]

[85: Hermippus Redivivus; or The Sage's Triumph over Old Age and the Grave (translated from the Latin of Cohausen, with annotations), 1743. Dr. Johnson pronounced the volume "very entertaining as an account of the hermetic philosophy and as furnishing a curious history of the extravagancies of the human mind," adding "if it were merely imaginary it would be nothing at all."]

[86: St. Leon, vol. iv. ch, xiii.]

[87: St. Leon, Bk. iv, ch. v.]

[88: Lives of the Necromancers, 1834, Preface. "The main purpose of this book is to exhibit a fair delineation of the credulity of the human mind. Such an exhibition cannot fail to be productive of the most salutary lessons."]

[89: St. Godwin: A Tale of the 16th, 17th and 18th Century, by Count Reginald de St. Leon, 1800, p. 234.]

[90: Dowden, Life of Shelley, vol. i. p. 10.]

[91: Dowden, Life of Shelley, vol. i. p. 44.]

[92: Hogg, Life of Shelley, vol. i. p. 15.]

[93: Cf. Castle of Lindenberg story in The Monk, and ballad of Alonzo the Brave.]

[94: A versification of the story of the Wandering Jew, Bleeding Nun and Don Raymond in The Monk.]

[95: This poem was borrowed from Lewis's Tales of Terror (without Shelley's knowledge), where it is entitled The Black Canon of Elmham, or St. Edmond's Eve.]

[96: Letter to Edward Fergus Graham, Ap. 23, 1810 (Letters, ed. Ingpen, 1909, vol. i, pp. 4-6).]

[97: Letter to John Joseph Stockdale, Nov. 14, 1810.]

[98: Mme. de Montolieu, Caroline de Lichfield, translated by Thos. Holcroft, 1786.]

[99: Mme. de Genlis, translated by Rev. Beresford, 1796.]

[100: Peter Middleton Darling, Romance of the Highlands, 1810.]

[101: Regina Maria Roche, The Discarded Son, or The Haunt of the Banditti, 1806.]

[102: Agnes Musgrave, Cicely, or The Rose of Raby.]

[103: Aphra Behn, The Nun.]

[104: Charlotte Smith, Ethelinde, or The Recluse of the Lake, 1790.]

[105: The Relapse: a novel, 1780.]

[106: Tales of the Hall.]

[107: Crebillon, Les Egarements du Coeur et de l'Esprit.]

[108: The Borough, Ellen Orford, Letter xx.]

[109: The Borough, xx, ll. 56 seqq.]

[110: Parish Register.]

[111: William and Helen, 1796.]

[112: House of Aspen, 1799 (Keepsake, 1830). Doom of Devorgoil, 1817 (Keepsake, 1830).]

[113: Scott, Lives of the Novelists (on Clara Reeve and Mrs. Radcliffe and Maturin).]

[114: Keepsake, 1828.]

[115: Keepsake, 1828.]

[116: Journal, Feb. 23, 1826.]

[117: List of books read 1814-1816.]

[118: Fantasmagoriana: ou Recueil d'Histoires d'Apparitions, de Spectres, de Revenans, trad. d'Allemand par un Amateur. Paris, 1812.]

[119: Diary of John William Polidori, June 17, 1816.]

[120: Byron, Letters and Journals, 1899, iii. 446. Mary Shelley, Life and Letters, 1889, i. 586. Extract from Mary Shelley's Diary, Aug. 14, 1816.]

[121: Nov. 15, 1823, Life and Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (Marshall), ii. 52.]

[122: Life and Letters, ii. 88. ]

[123: Romancist and Novelist's Library.]

[124: Reprinted in Treasure House of Tales by Great Authors, ed. Garnett, 1891.]

[125: Punch, vol. x. p. 31:

"Says Ainsworth to Colburn A plan in my pate is To give my romance, as A supplement gratis. Says Colburn to Ainsworth 'Twill do very nicely, For that will be charging Its value precisely."]

[126: Life, Letters and Literary Remains, 1883, vol. ii. pp. 70 seqq.]

[127: Dublin University Magazine, 1862. "Forgotten Novels."]

[128: Blackwood's Magazine, 1830-1837.]

[129: Within the Tides, 1915.]

[130: Preface to The Algerine Captive (Walpole, Vermont, 1797) quoted Loshe, Early American Novel, N.Y. 1907.]

[131: Preface to Edgar Huntly.]

[132: Peacock, Memoirs of Shelley.]



INDEX

Abbey of Clunedale, Drake's, 35.

Abbot, Scott's, 109 note, 153.

Abdallah, Tieck's, 65.

Abellino, Zschokke's, 70.

Adam Blair, Lockhart's, 207.

Addison, Joseph, 5, 17, 69, 95, 222.

Adela Cathcart, Macdonald's, 173.

Adventures of Abdallah, Bignon's, 94, 96.

Adventures of Mme. de St. Phale, 109 note.

After Dark, Wilkie Collins', 190.

Aikin, A.L. (see Barbauld, Mrs. A.L.).

Aikin, Dr. J., 28.

Aikin, Lucy, 28.

Ainsworth, Harrison, 149, 174-177.

Alastor, Shelley's, 127, 163.

Albigenses, Maturin's, 82.

Alciphron, Moore's, 117.

Algerine Captive, 197 note.

Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll's, 116.

All the Year Round, 183, 190.

Almoran and Hamet, Hawkesworth's, 95.

Alonzo and Melissa, 197.

Alonzo the Brave, Lewis's, n, 120 note.

Amadas, Sir, 4.

Amelia, Fielding's, 134, 135.

Ancient Mariner, Coleridge's, 9, 227.

Angelina, Maria Edgeworth's, 133.

Annual Review, 73.

Antiquary, Scott's, 154.

Apel, J.A., 174.

Apostate Nun (see Convent of Grey Penitents).

Apparitions, History and Reality of, Defoe's, 5, 139.

Apparitions, History of, Taylor's, 149.

Apuleius, 13.

Arabian Nights, 12, 94.

Ardinghello, Heinse's, 65.

Arliss's Pocket Magazine, 175.

Arlamene ou le Grand Cyrus, Mme. de Scudery's, 222.

Arthur Mervyn, C.B. Brown's, 198.

Asylum or Alonzo and Melissa, 197.

Auberge Rouge, Balzac's, 203.

Auriol, Ainsworth's, 176-177.

Austen, Jane, 100, 125-133, 138, 140, 223.

Avenger, De Quincey's, 174.

Avenging Demon, Shelley's, 120.

Azemia, Beckford's, 97.

Babel, Tower of, 221.

Babes in the Wood, 13, 109 note.

Babylonica, Iamblichus', 12.

Ballad collections, 9.

Baltimore Saturday Visitor, 214.

Balzac, Honore de, 86, 203.

Bandit of Florence, 76.

Banditti of the Forest, 76.

Barbastal, or the Magician of the Forest of the Bloody Ash, 186.

Barbauld, Mrs. A.L., 28-31, 32, 33, 147.

Barchester Towers, Trollope's, 38 note.

Bard, Gray's, 7.

Barrett, E.S., 22, 79, 133-137, 138.

Baudelaire, Charles, 86, 220.

Beckford, William, 94-99, 118.

Beggar Girl and her Benefactors, Mrs. Bennett's, 74, 134.

Behn, Mrs. Aphra, 141 note, 222.

Benevolent Monk, Melville's, 75.

Bennett, Mrs. A.M., 74.

Bennett, Arnold, 227.

Benson, E.F., 226.

Beowulf, 2.

Berenice, Poe's, 215.

Bertram, Maturin's, 81, 149.

Betrothed, Scott's, 153.

Bibliotheca Britannica, Watt's, 75, 129.

Bignon, Jean-Paul, 94.

Biographical Memoirs of Extraordinary Painters, Beckford's, 97.

Black Canon of Elmham (Tales of Terror), 120 note.

Black Cat, Poe's, 217.

Black Forest, 76.

Blackwood, Algernon, 226.

Blackwood's Magazine, 34 note, 174, 182, 189, 190, 194.

Blake, William, 31-32.

Blanche and Osbright, Lewis's, 71.

"Blind Harry," 21 note.

Blithedale Romance, Hawthorne's, 212.

Bloody Monk of Udolpho, Horsley Curteis', 75.

Bluebeard, 3, 13, 109 note.

Boeotian, 175.

Bold Dragoon, Irving's, 201.

Boleyn, Anne, 31.

Book for a Corner, Leigh Hunt's, 28.

Borough, Crabbe's, 142, 143.

Bosom-Serpent, Hawthorne's, 206.

Bottle-Imp, Stevenson's, 87 note.

Bovet, 14, 149.

Bravo of Bohemia or Black Forest, 76.

Bravo of Venice, Lewis's, 70, 71, 125.

Bridal of Triermain, Scott's, 34 note.

Bride of Lammermoor, Scott's, 81, 153.

Brigand Tales, 186.

Bronte, Charlotte, 38 note, 51, 224.

Bronte, Emily, 224-225.

Brown, Charles Brockden, 140, 188, 197-200.

Browne, Sir Thomas, 5.

Bulke, Sir George, 57.

Bullfrog, Mrs., Hawthorne's, 206.

Bunyan, John, 5.

Buerger, Gottfried, II, 148, 200.

Burney, Dr. Charles, 17.

Burney, Fanny, 38 note, 135, 223.

Burns, Robert, 8, 9.

Burton, Robert, 5.

Byron, Lord, 38 note, 55, 59, 72, 79, 81, 135, 158, 160, 167, 169, 171, 221.

Caleb Williams, Godwin's, 13, 102-111, 168, 199, 218.

Caledonian Banditti, 76.

Camilla, Fanny Burney's, 134.

Campbell, Dr. John, 112.

Carlyle, Thomas, 65, 72.

Caroline of Lichfield, Mme. de Montolieu's, 134.

Carroll, Lewis, 201.

Cask of Amontillado, Poe's, 217, 220.

Castle Connor, Clara Reeve's, 28.

Castle of Otranto, Walpole's, 12, 16-23, 25, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 39, 40, 58, 77, 146, 221.

Castle of Wolfenbach, Mrs. Parson's, 129.

Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne, Mrs. Radcliffe's, 39-41, 45.

Castle Spectre, Lewis's, 66, 149.

Castle without a Spectre, Mrs. Hunter's, 76.

Cazotte, Jacques, 68.

Cecilia, Fanny Burney's, 134, 135.

Cenci, Shelley's, 127.

Cervantes, 222.

Chateau de Montville, Sarah Wilkinson's, 77.

Cherubina, Adventures of (see Heroine).

Childe Harold, Byron's, 38 note.

Children of the Abbey, Mrs. Roche's, 22, 59, 129, 130, 134.

Chinese Tales, Gueulette's, 94.

Christabel, Coleridge's, 9, 10.

"Christopher North" (Wilson, John), 192.

Cicely or The Rose of Raby, Miss Agnes Musgrave's, 141 note.

Clarissa Harlowe, Richardson's, 46, 134, 140.

Clerk Saunders, 3.

Clermont, Mrs. Roche's, 129.

Cock Lane and Commonsense, Andrew Lang's, 2 note.

"Cock Lane Ghost," 6.

Coleridge, S.T., 9, 10, 66, 81.

Collectanea, Leland's, 57.

Collins, Wilkie, 190, 194, 225.

Collins, William, 7, 8, 12, 35, 58.

Colman, George, the younger, 109.

Colman, George, the elder, 129, 222.

Conant, Martha, 95 note.

Confessions of a Fanatic, Hogg's, 192.

Conrad, Joseph, 194, 195, 227.

Contes de ma Mere Oie, Perrault's, 12.

Convent of St. Ursula, Miss Wilkinson's, 78.

Convent of the Grey Penitents, Miss Wilkinson's, 74, 76, 77-78.

Corelli, Marie, 226.

Corsair, Byron's, 56.

Count of Narbonne, Jephson's, 19.

"Count Reginald de St. Leon," 116.

Coverley, Sir Roger de, 5.

Crabbe, George, 76, 140-144.

Crebillon, C.P.J., 141 note.

Crichton, Ainsworth's, 176.

Croly, George, 118.

Cruikshank, 176.

Cunningham, Allan, 191-192.

Curteis, T.J. Horsley, 75.

Dacre, Charlotte ("Rosa Matilda"), 75, 122.

D'Arblay, Mme. (see Burney, Fanny).

Darwin, Erasmus, 160.

D'Aulnoy, Countess, 12.

David, 2.

Death of Despina, Mrs. Shelley's, 168.

Defoe, Daniel, 5, 6, 139.

Delicate Distress, 134.

"Demon Frigate," 12.

"Demon Lover," 2, 14.

Demonology and Witchcraft, Letters on, Scott's, 149.

Demonology, Treatise on, James I.'s, 4.

De Quincey, 173-174.

De Scudery, Mme., 222.

Descent into the Maelstrom, Poe's, 215.

Devil in Love, Cazotte's, 68.

Diary of a Lover of Literature, Green's, 38 note.

Dice, De Quincey's, 174.

Dickens, Charles, 14, 59, 81, 190, 192, 193.

Discarded Son, Mrs. Roche's, 140 note.

Discovery of Witchcraft, Scot's, 14, 147.

Disraeli, Benjamin, 99.

Distress, Kinds of, which Excite Agreeable Sensations, Barbauld's, 29.

Dr. Dolliver's Romance, Hawthorne's, 212-213.

Dr. Grimshawe's Secret, Hawthorne's, 212.

Dr. Heidegger's Experiment, Hawthorne's, 207.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Stevenson's, 218.

Dr. Marigold's Prescriptions, Dickens', 194.

Don Quixote, Cervantes', 222.

Doom of Devorgoil, Scott's, 149 note.

Douglas, Home's, 8.

Doyle, Sir A. Conan, 103, 218, 226.

Dracula, Bram Stoker's, 2, 173, 225.

Drake, Dr. Nathan, 32-37, 147.

Dream Children, Lamb's, 193.

Dublin University Magazine, 173, 186 note, 190, 191.

Dumas, Alexandre, 175.

Edgar Huntly, C.B. Brown's, 197, 198, 199-200.

Edgeworth, Maria, 133.

Edinburgh Review, 87 note.

Edmond, Orphan of the Castle, 28.

Edward, 34.

Edward Fane's Rosebud, Hawthorne's, 205.

Egarements du Coeur et de l'Esprit, Crebillon's, 141 note.

Elegant Enthusiast, Beckford's, 97.

Eleanora, Poe's, 215.

Elixir de la Longue Vie, Balzac's, 203.

Elixir des Teufels, Hoffmann's, 70.

Elsie Venner, Holmes', 207.

Endor, Witch of, 2, 221.

English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, Byron's, 72 note, 79.

English Chronicle, 39.

English Novelists, Lectures on, Hazlitt's, 62.

Entfuehrung, Musaeus', 68 note.

Epicurean, Moore's, 117, 118.

Ernestus Berchtold, Polidori's, 160, 170-171.

Ethan Brand, Hawthorne's, 205.

Ethelinde, Charlotte Smith's, 141.

"Ettrick Shepherd" (see Hogg, James).

European Magazine, 175.

Evelina, Fanny Burney's, 134.

Eve of St. Agnes, Keats', 10.

Ewige Jude, Schubart's, 120.

Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar, Poe's, 219.

Faerie Queene, Spenser's, 17.

Fair Elenor, Blake's, 31-32.

Fair Jilt, Mrs. Aphra Behn's, 222.

Falkner, Godwin's, 168.

Fall of the House of Usher, Poe's, 216, 220.

Family of Montorio, 72, 74, 80, 81, 82-86, 88, 91, 93, 158.

Fantasmagoriana, 160 note.

Farina, Meredith's, 70.

Fatal Marksman, De Quincey's, 174.

Fatal Revenge (see Family of Montorio).

Faust, Goethe's, 92, 198.

Faustus, Dr., Marlowe's, 4, 12, 91, 92.

Fear, Ode to, Collins', 35.

"Felix Phantom," 77.

Female Quixote, Mrs. Lennox's, 222.

Ferdinand, Count Fathom, Adventures of, Smollett's, 12, 23-25, 29, 35, 68.

Feudal Tyrants, Lewis's, 71.

Fielding, Henry, 222.

Field of Terror, De La Motte Fouque's, 34.

First Men in the Moon, Wells', 227.

Flames, Hichens', 226.

Fleetwood, Godwin's, 102 note, 104 note, 109 note.

Flood, Story of, 1, 221.

Ford, John, 127.

Forman, 224.

Fortress of Saguntum, Ainsworth's, 175.

Fortunes of Nigel, Scott's, 153.

Fouque, De la Motte, 34, 153.

Francis, Sophia, 76.

Frankenstein, Mrs. Shelley's, 158-165, 169.

Frazer, 2 note.

Fredolfo, Maturin's, 81.

Freischuetz, Apel's, 174.

Fugitive Countess, Miss Wilkinson's, 78.

Galland, Antoine, 12, 94.

Gaskell, Mrs., 192-193.

Gaston de Blondeville, Mrs. Radcliffe's, 39, 40, 56-58, 60.

Geisterseher, Schiller's, 51.

Geistertodtenglocke, 191.

"Geoffrey Crayon" (see Irving, Washington).

German Literature, Essay on, Carlyle's, 65.

German Playwrights, Essay on, Carlyle's, 72 note.

German Student, Story of a, 201.

Ghasta, Shelley's, 120.

Ghost, "Felix Phantom's," 77.

Giaour, Byron's, 55.

Gilgamesh epic, 1-2.

Ginevra, Shelley's, 127.

Glanvill, Joseph, 6, 215.

Glenallan, Lytton's, 179.

Glenfinlas, Scott's, 11.

Godolphin, Lytton's, 179.

God's Revenge Against Murder, 109 note.

Godwin, William, 13, 92, 100-117, 124, 158, 166, 175, 197, 199, 200, 209, 218, 226.

Goethe, Johann Wolfgang, 65, 92, 148, 198.

Golden Ass, Apuleius', 13, 14, 15.

Goodman Brown, Hawthorne's, 206.

Goetz van Berlichingen, Goethe's, 148.

Grand Cyrus, Mme. de Scudery's, 222.

Grandison, Sir Charles, Richardson's, 134.

Green, Sarah, 133.

Green Tea, Le Fanu's, 190.

Gray, Thomas, 7, 12, 20, 40, 58, 75.

Grillparzer, Franz, 72.

Grosse, Marquis von, 76, 129.

Guardian, 68.

Gueulette, 94.

Haggard, Rider, 226.

Half Hangit, Ainsworth's, 175.

Halloween, Burns', 8.

Hamilton, Count Antony, 95.

Hamlet, Shakespeare's, 86.

Hardyknute, 35.

Haunted and the Haunters, Lytton's, 179, 182-183.

Haunted Ships, Cunningham's, 191.

Hawkesworth, Dr. John, 95.

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 203-213, 214, 217, 220.

Hayne, D.F., 188.

Hazlitt, William, 62.

Heinse, Wilhelm, 65.

Hellas, Shelley's, 120.

Henley, Rev. S., 94.

Henry Fitzowen, Drake's, 33.

Hermippus Redivivus, Campbell's, 112.

Heroine, Barrett's, 79, 133-137.

Heywood, Thomas, 149.

Hierarchy of the Blessed Angels, Heywood's, 149.

History of Nourjahad, Mrs. Sheridan's, 95.

History of the Exchequer, Mador's, 57.

Hobson, Elizabeth, 6.

Hoffmann, E.T.A., 70, 175.

Hogg, James, 11, 58, 61, 191, 192.

Hollow of the Three Hills, Hawthorne's, 205.

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 207,

Home, John, 8.

Horrid Mysteries, Marquis von Grosse's, 76, 126, 129, 199.

Hound of the Baskervilles, 226.

Hours of Idleness, Byron's, 72.

Household Words, 190, 193.

Household Wreck, De Quincey's, 174.

House of Aspen, Scott, 149 note.

House of the Seven Gables, Hawthorne's, 210-211.

Hughes, A.M.D., 122.

Hugo, Bennett's, 227.

Hugo, Victor, 175.

Hunt, Leigh, 28, 186.

Hunter, Mrs. Rachel, 76.

Hurd, Bishop, 17, 20.

Iamblichus, 12.

Icelandic saga, 2, 14.

Iliad, 14.

Image in the Sand, Benson's, 226.

Indicator, Leigh Hunt's, 187.

Inn of the Two Witches, Conrad's, 195.

Invisible Man, Wells', 196.

Iron Shroud, Mudford's, 194.

Irving, Washington, 200-203.

Isabella, Keats', 10.

Italian, Mrs. Radcliffe's, 34, 45, 47, 52-56, 58, 60, 69, 70, 114, 124, 125, 128, 137, 168, 185.

Ivanhoe, Scott's, 18.

Jack the Giant-Killer, 19.

Jacobs, W.W., 193.

James I., 4.

James, Henry, 196.

Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte's, 224.

Jekyll and Hyde, Stevenson's, 218.

"Jenny Spinner," 179.

Jephson, Robert, 19.

Jerdan, W., 189.

Jerusalem, Lope de Vega's, 21 note.

Job, Book of, 221.

John Silence, Blackwood's, 226.

Johnson, Samuel, 6, 7, 95.

Johnson, T.B., 140.

Jonson, Ben, 4.

Journal, Moore's, 97.

Journeys of Mrs. Radcliffe, 60-61.

Juif Errant, Sue's, 118.

Keats, John, 10.

Keepsake, 149 note, 150 note, 151 note.

Kemble, John, 19.

Kidnapped, Stevenson, 41, 195.

Kilmeny, Hogg's, 11.

King John, Shakespeare's, 55.

King Lear, Shakespeare's, 3, 110.

King Solomon's Mines, Haggard's, 226.

Kipling, Rudyard, 195.

Klingemann, 72.

Klosterheim, De Quincey's, 173.

Knight of the Burning Pestle, Beaumont and Fletcher's, 7.

Knights of the Swan, Mme. de Genlis', 134.

Koenigsmark the Robber, Lewis's, 71.

Kotzebue, August von, 65, 72.

Kubla Khan, 10.

La Belle Dame sans Merci, Keats', 11.

Lacroix, Paul, 175.

Lady in the Sacque, Scott's, 150, 201.

Lady of the Lake, Scott's, 152.

Lamb, Charles, 193.

Lamia, Keats', 10.

Lancashire Witches, Ainsworth's, 176.

Lang, Andrew, 2.

Langhorne, John, 95.

Lara, Byron's, 56.

Last Man, Mrs. Shelley's, 166-168.

Lathom, Francis, 76.

Lay of the Last Minstrel, Scott's, 79, 152.

Le Calprenede, 222.

Lee, Sophia, 39, 57.

Le Fanu, Sheridan, 190, 225.

Legend of Montrose, Scott's, 153.

Legends of a Nunnery, Lewis's, 71.

Legends of Terror, 186.

Legends of the Province House, Hawthorne's, 204.

Leland, John, 57.

Lemoine, Anne, 186.

Lennox, Mrs. Charlotte, 222.

Lenore, Buerger's, 11, 148.

Le Queux, William, 226.

Letitia, Mrs. Rachel Hunter's, 76.

Letters on Chivalry and Romance, Hurd's, 17, 20.

Lewis, M.G. ("Monk"), 11, 14, 32, 55, 56, 61, 63-72, 76, 77, 85, 91, 114, 120, 122, 123, 125, 136, 148, 157, 158, 174, 175, 185, 186, 188, 197, 203, 218.

Ligeia, Poe's, 215.

Literary Hours, Drake's, 32.

Literary Souvenir, 175.

Little Annie's Rambles, Hawthorne's, 205.

Lives of the Necromancers, Godwin's, 115, 117.

Lives of the Novelists, Scott's, 21 note, 38 note, 150 note, 153.

Lives of the Pirates, 109 note.

Lives, Plutarch's, 162.

Lockhart, John, 192, 207.

Lodore, Mrs. Shelley's, 168.

London Magazine, 191.

Longsword, Leland's, 57.

Lope de Vega, 21 note.

Lopez and Aranthe, Miss Sarah Wilkinson's, 78.

Lord of Ennerdale, Scott's, 148.

Loshe, 197.

Lucifer, 188.

Lyttleton, Lord, 6.

Lytton, Bulwer, 109, 116, 178-184, 226.

Macaulay, Lord, 77.

Macbeth, Shakespeare's, 4, 85.

Macpherson, James, 12, 20.

Madoc, Southey's, 65 note.

Mador, 57.

Magician of the Forest of the Bloody Ash, 186.

Malfi, Duchess of, Webster's, 4.

Mallet, David, 7.

Malone, Edmund, 19.

Malory, Sir Thomas, 4.

Manuscript Found in a Bottle, Poe's, 214, 215.

Mandeville, Godwin's, 101.

Manfroni, 75.

Manuel, Maturin's, 81.

Man in the Bell, 194.

Marble Faun, Hawthorne's, 204, 212.

Margaret Nicholson, Posthumous Poems of, 120.

Mark of the Beast, Kipling's, 195.

Marlowe, Christopher, 4, 92.

Marmion, Scott's, 69 note.

Marryat, Captain, 2, 177.

Marsh, Richard, 225.

Mary Burnet, Hogg's, 192.

Mason, 16, 20, 58.

Masque of Queens, Ben Jonson's, 4.

Masque of the Red Death, Poe's, 214, 216, 217, 220.

Master of Ballantrae, Stevenson's, 195.

Mathias, T.J., 38 note.

Maturin, C.R., 55, 61, 72, 80-93, 150 note, 157, 158, 175, 185, 188, 203, 218, 220.

Medwin, Thomas, 74, 120.

Meeke, Mrs., 77.

Melancholy, Ode on, Keats', 10.

Melmoth Reconcilie a l'Eglise, Balzac's, 86.

Melmoth the Wanderer, Maturin's, 14, 80 note, 82, 86-93, 158, 174, 185.

Melville, Theodore, 75.

Meredith, George, 70, 99.

Merry Men, Stevenson's, 195.

Mickle, William Julius, 69.

Midnight Bell, George Walker's, 77, 129.

Midnight Groan, 120.

Midnight Horrors, 75.

Midnight Weddings, Mrs. Meeke's, 77.

Milesian Chief, Maturin's, 81.

Milton, John, 54, 58.

Minerva Press, 74.

Misanthropic Parent, Miss Smith's, 135.

Mitford, Miss Mary Russell, 58, 86.

Modern Language Review, 122.

Modern Oedipus, Polidori's, 160, 170-171.

Mogul Tales, Gueulette's, 94, 95.

Monastery, Scott's, 109, 152.

Monk, Lewis's, 64, 65, 66-70, 91, 114, 120 note, 123, 129, 136, 148, 152.

Monk of Madrid, George Moore's, 75.

Monkey's Paw, Jacobs', 193.

Monks of Cluny or Castle Acre Monastery, 186.

Monos and Daimonos, Lytton's, 217.

Montagu, George, 18.

Monthly Review, 68 note.

Montmorenci, Drake's, 34, 35.

Moonstone, Wilkie Collins', 190, 225.

Moore, George, 75.

Moore, Dr. John, 53.

Moore, Thomas, 97, 117, 118.

Moral Tales, Maria Edgeworth's, 133.

More Ghosts, "Felix Phantom's," 77.

More, Hannah, 16.

Morella, Poe's, 215.

Morgan, Lady, 81.

Mortal Immortal, Mrs. Shelley's, 169.

Morte D'Arthur, Malory's, 4.

Mosses from an old Manse, Hawthorne's, 206, 220.

Mudford, William, 194.

Mugby Junction, Dickens', 194.

Murder, Considered as one of the Fine Arts, De Quincey's, 173.

Murders of the Rue Morgue, Poe's, 218.

Musaeus, Johann, 68 note.

Musgrave, Agnes, 141 note.

My Aunt Margaret's Mirror, Scott's, 150.

Mysteries of the Forest, Miss Eleanor Sleath's, 76.

Mysteries of Udolpho (see Udolpho, Mysteries of).

Mysterious Bravo, 76.

Mysterious Bride, James Hogg's, 191.

Mysterious Freebooter, Lathom's, 76, 120.

Mysterious Hand, Randolph's, 76, 120.

Mysterious Mother, Walpole's, 34, 58.

Mysterious Spaniard, 186.

Mysterious Summons, 186.

Mysterious Visits, Mrs. Parson's, 76.

Mysterious Wanderer, Miss Sophia Reeve's, 76.

Mysterious Warnings, Mrs. Parson's, 76, 129.

Mystery of M. Roget, Poe's, 218.

Mystery of the Abbey, T.B. Johnson's, 140.

Mystery of the Black Tower, Palmer's, 76.

Mystic Sepulchre, Palmer's, 76.

My Uncle's Garret Window, Lewis's, 65.

Necromancer of the Black Forest, 129.

New Arabian Nights, Stevenson's, 195.

Newcomes, Thackeray's, 38 note.

Newgate Calendar, 109 note.

New Monk, "R.S.'s" 75.

New Monthly, 177.

Nigger of the Narcissus, Conrad's, 227.

Nightmare, Shelley's, 120.

Nightmare Abbey, Peacock's, 47, 126, 138, 140.

Noctes Ambrosianae, 58, 62 note, 192.

Nocturnal Minstrel, Miss Sleath's, 77.

Northanger Abbey, Jane Austen's, 44, 128, 129-133, 185.

Notebooks, Hawthorne's, 204, 212, 213.

Nouvelle Heloise, Rousseau's, 134.

Nun, Mrs. Aphra Behn's, 141.

Nun of Misericordia, Miss Sophia Francis's, 76.

Nun of St. Omer's, "Rosa Matilda's," 75.

Nurse's Story, Mrs. Gaskell's, 192, 193.

Objects of Terror, Drake's essay on, 34.

Oblong Box, Poe's, 219.

Old Bachelor, Crabbe's, 142.

Old English Baron, Clara Reeve's, 22, 25-28, 57.

"Old Jeffrey," 6.

Old Manor House, Charlotte Smith's, 77.

Old Mortality, Scott's, 22, 154.

Old St. Paul's, Ainsworth's, 176.

Old Woman of Berkeley, Southey's, 11.

Oppenheim, Phillips, 226.

Oriental Tale in England, Conant's, 95 note, 96 note.

Ormond, T.B. Brown's, 198.

Oroonoko, Mrs. Aphra Behn's, 222.

Orphan of the Rhine, Miss Sleath's, 129.

Oscar and Alva, Byron's, 72.

Osorio, Coleridge's, 81.

Ossian, Macpherson's, 12, 20, 58.

Oval Portrait, Poe's, 219.

Pain, Barry, 193.

Palmer, John, 76.

Pamela, Richardson's, 134.

Pandemonium or the Devil's Cloyster Opened, Bovet's, 14, 149.

Paradise Lost, Milton's, 162.

Parish Register, Crabbe's, 144 note.

Parsons, Mrs. Eliza, 73, 74, 76, 129.

Passages from the Diary of a Late Physician, Warren's, 188.

Paul Clifford, Lytton's, 109.

Peacock, T.L., 72, 126, 138-140, 197.

Peep at our Ancestors, Mrs. Rouviere's, 74, 75.

Pegge, Samuel, 57.

Pepys, Mrs., 222.

Percy, Bishop, 9, 20.

Perkin Warbeck, Mrs. Shelley's, 168.

Perrault, Charles, 12.

Persian Tales, Galland's, 94.

Peruvian Tales, Gueulette's, 94.

Petronius, 2.

Peveril of the Peak, Scott's, 154.

Phantasmagoria, Lewis Carroll's, 201.

Phantom Ship, Marryat's, 2, 177.

Pickwick, Dickens', 193.

Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde's, 226.

Pilgrim's Progress, Bunyan's, 5.

Pillar of Mystery, 197.

Pit and the Pendulum, Poe's, 194, 218.

Planche, Gustave, 86 note.

Plato, 101.

Pleasure derived from Objects of Terror, Mrs. Barbauld's essay on, 28.

Pliny, 14.

Plutarch, 162.

Poe, Edgar Allan, 149, 175, 213-220, 226.

Poetical Sketches, Blake's, 31.

Polidori, Dr., 158, 160, 169-173.

Political Justice, Godwin's, 100, 101, 102, 111, 197.

Polly Honeycombe, Colman's, 222.

Polyphemus, 2.

Pope, Alexander, 17.

Popular Tales and Romances of the Northern Nations, 174.

Portraits Litteraires, Planche's, 86 note.

Pour et Contre, Maturin's, 81.

Preceptor Husband, Crabbe's, 141.

Preface to Shakespeare, Pope's, 17.

Premature Burial, Poe's, 216.

Priory of St. Clair, Miss Wilkinson's, 74, 78.

Prisoner of Zenda, Hope's, 226.

Prometheus Unbound, Shelley's, 101, 120, 127.

Pursuits of Literature, Mathias', 38 note.

Quarterly Review, 72.

Queenhoo Hall, Strutt's, 57.

Queen Mab, 101, 120.

Radcliffe, Mrs. Anne, 12, 13, 14, 20, 22, 24, 26, 31, 33, 34, 35, 38-62, 63, 64, 68, 69, 70, 76, 77, 81, 82, 84, 85, 91, 101, 104, 105, 109, 114, 122, 123, 124, 128, 129, 130, 133, 135, 136, 137, 148, 150 note, 154, 155, 157, 158, 167, 168, 173, 175, 176, 185, 188, 197, 198, 218, 219, 222, 223.

Rambler, Johnson's, 94.

Randolph, A.J., 76.

Rappacini's Daughter, Dr., Hawthorne's, 206.

Rasselas, Johnson's, 94, 134.

Raeuber, Schiller's, 55, 65, 148, 198.

Raven, Poe's, 219.

Recess, Sophia Lee's, 39, 57.

Reeve, Clara, 13, 21, 25-28, 33, 38, 57, 150 note.

Reeve, Sophia, 76.

Relapse, 141.

Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, Percy's, 9, 20.

Return of Imray, Kipling's, 195.

Revelations of London (see Auriol).

Revenge (Poems of Victor and Cazire), 120.

Revolt of Islam, Shelley's, 101, 127.

Richard III., Shakespeare's, 55.

Richardson, Samuel, 46, 222, 223.

Ridley, James, 95.

Rill from the Town Pump, Hawthorne's, 205.

Robber Bridegroom, 3.

Robbers (see Raeuber).

Robinson, Crabb, 59.

Rob Roy, Scott's, 154.

Roche, Mrs. Regina Maria, 22, 59, 129, 134, 140 note.

Rogers, Samuel, 74.

Rohmer, Sax, 225.

Rokeby, Scott's, 152, 154.

Romance of the Castle, D.F. Hayne's, 188.

Romance of the Cavern, George Walker's, 76.

Romance of the Forest, Mrs. Radcliffe's, 26, 42-46, 52, 53, 56, 69, 76, 109, 131, 132, 134.

Romance of the Highlands, Peter Darling's, 134.

Romance Readers and Romance Writers, Sarah Green's, 133.

Romances, an Imitation, 29.

Romancist and Novelist's Library, 39 note, 122, 129, 168 note, 187, 188, 189.

Rookwood, Ainsworth's, 175-176, 224.

"Rosa Matilda" (see Dacre).

Rose of Raby, Miss Agnes Musgrave's, 141.

Rossetti, Christina, 39.

Rossetti, D.G., 86, 186.

Rossetti, W.M., 169.

Roundabout Papers, Thackeray's, 75 note.

Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 89, 115, 137.

Rouviere, Mrs. Henrietta, 74, 75.

Ruins of Empire, Volney's, 162.

Ruins of St. Luke's Abbey, 186.

Sadducismus Triumphatus, Glanvill's, 6.

St. Edmond's Eve (Tales of Terror), 120 note.

St. Edmund's Eve (Poems by Victor and Cazire), 120.

St. Godwin, 116.

St. Irvyne, Shelley's, 13, 66, 120, 121, 122, 123-126.

St. Leon, Godwin's, 91, 102, 111-116, 117, 124, 166, 169.

Saintsbury, George, 192.

Salathiel, Croly's, 118.

Satan's Invisible World Discovered, Sinclair's, 14, 149.

Scarlet Letter, Hawthorne's, 207-210, 212.

Schiller, Friedrich, 51, 65.

Schubart, 120.

Scot, Reginald, 14, 147.

Scott, Sir Walter, 11, 14, 20, 21 note, 22, 38 note, 55, 57, 69, 72, 73, 74, 75, 77, 80, 81, 82, 86, 109, 135, 145-156, 190, 194, 200, 201, 224.

Secret History of the Good Devil of Woodstock, 154.

Sensitive Plant, Shelley's, 127.

Septimius Felton, Hawthorne's, 212.

Seven Vagabonds, Hawthorne's, 205.

Seward, Anna, 150.

Sexton of Cologne, 188.

Shadow Line, Conrad's, 227.

Shakespeare, 54, 55, 58, 85, 89, 127.

Shaving of Shagpat, Meredith's, 99.

She, Rider Haggard's, 226.

Shelley, Mary, 158-169, 188.

Shelley, P.B., 13, 66, 74, 101, 118-127, 160, 167, 168, 175, 197, 198, 199.

Sheridan, Mrs. Frances, 95.

Sheridan, R.B., 129.

Shirley, Charlotte Bronte's, 38 note.

Shrine of St. Alstice, 76.

Sicilian Pirate, 197.

Sicilian Romance, Mrs. Radcliffe's, 13, 22, 41-42, 45, 53, 123, 132, 137.

Sign of Four, Conan Doyle's, 226.

Sinclair, George, 14, 149.

Sir Bertrand, Mrs. Barbauld's, 28-31.

Sir Egbert, Drake's, 35.

Sir Eustace Grey, Crabbe's, 144.

Sir Michael Scott, Cunningham's, 191.

Sketch Book, Irving's, 200.

Sleath, Eleanor, 76, 77, 129.

Sleepless Woman, Jerdan's, 189.

Smith, Mrs. Charlotte, 77, 141 note.

Smollett, Tobias, 12, 23-25, 29, 31, 68, 222.

Solyman and Almena, Langhorne's, 95.

Sorcerer, Mickle's, 68, 69.

Southey, Robert, 11, 65.

Spectator, 5, 222.

Spectral Horseman, 120.

Spectre Barber, 188.

Spectre Bride, 175, 188.

Spectre Bridegroom, 200.

Spectre of Lanmere Abbey, Miss Wilkinson's, 79.

Spectre of the Murdered Nun, Miss Wilkinson's, 74, 78.

Spectre-Smitten, 188.

Spectre Unmasked, 188.

Spenser, Edmund, 4, 17, 32, 33, 36, 37, 102.

Steele, Richard, 129.

Sterne, Laurence, 222.

Stevenson, R.L., 87 note, 147, 186, 195, 218.

Stoker, Bram, 2, 225.

Story-Haunted, 188, 222.

Story Teller, 187, 188, 189.

Strange Story, Lytton's, 116, 183-184.

Strutt, Joseph, 57.

Student, 217.

Subterranean Horrors, Randolph's, 76, 120.

Sue, Eugene, 118.

Sunday at Home, Hawthorne's, 205.

Superstitions of the Scottish Highlands, Ode on the, Collins', 8.

Sweet William's Ghost, 3.

Symposium, Plato's, 101.

Tales for a Chimney Corner, Leigh Hunt's, 187.

Tale of Mystery, 175.

Tale of the Passions, Mrs. Shelley's, 168.

Tales and Sketches, Hogg's, 192.

Tales and Sketches, Hawthorne's, 211.

Tales of a Traveller, Irving's, 201-202.

Tales of Chivalry, 186.

Tales of Superstition and Chivalry, 73.

Tales of Terror, Lewis's, 32, 70, 120.

Tales of the Genii, Ridley's, 95.

Tales of the Hall, Crabbe's, 141.

Tales of Wonder, Lewis's, 69, 70, 120, 148, 186.

Tam Lin, 3.

Tam o' Shanter, Burns', 8.

Tapestried Chamber, Scott's, 150, 201.

Tartarian Tales, Gueulette's, 94.

Taylor, Joseph, 149.

Taylor, William (of Norwich), 148.

Tedworth, Drummer of, 6, 153.

Tell-Tale Heart, Poe's, 217.

Tender Husband, Steele's, 129.

Terribly Strange Bed, Wilkie Collins', 194.

Test of Affection, Ainsworth's, 175.

Thackeray, W.M., 38 note, 39, 75 note, 78, 86.

Theocritus, 14.

Thomas the Rhymer, 147.

Thorgunna, 14.

Thrawn Janet, Stevenson's, 147.

Three Students of Goettingen, 188.

Tieck, Ludwig, 65, 175.

Told in the Dark, Barry Pain's, 193.

Tomb of Aurora, 186.

Tom Jones, Fielding's, 7 note, 126 note.

Tourneur, Cyril, 127.

Tower of London, Ainsworth's, 176.

Traditional Tales of the English and Scottish Peasantry, Cunningham's, 191.

Transformation, Hawthorne's (see Marble Faun).

Transformation, Mrs. Shelley's, 169.

Treasure House of Tales by Great Authors, Garnett's, 169 note.

Treasure Island, Stevenson's, 195, 218.

Trimalchio, Supper of, Petronius', 2.

Tristram Shandy, Sterne's, 134.

Triumph of Conscience, Shelley's, 120.

Trollope, Anthony, 38 note.

True Thomas, 3.

Tunbridge Toys, Thackeray's, 75 note.

Turkish Tales, Galland's, 94.

Turn of the Screw, James', 196.

Twelve o'clock, or The Three Robbers, 186.

Twice-Told Tales, Hawthorne's, 203, 205-206, 212, 213, 220.

Typhoon, Conrad's, 227.

Udolpho, Mysteries of, Mrs. Radcliffe's, 13, 14, 25, 45, 47-51, 52, 53. 59, 61, 64, 75, 76, 123, 125, 128, 129, 131, 134, 137, 145, 202.

Ulysses, 2, 14.

Uncommercial Traveller, Dickens', 193.

Usher's Well, Wife of, 3.

Valperga, Mrs. Shelley's, 165-166.

Vampyre, Polidori's, 169, 171-173.

Vathek, Episodes of, Beckford's, 96, 216.

Vathek, History of the Caliph, Beckford's, 94-99, 118.

Veal, Mrs., Defoe's, 6.

Verne, Jules, 226.

Victor and Cazire, Poems by, Shelley's, 120.

Villette, Charlotte Bronte's, 51, 224.

Virtuoso's Collection, Hawthorne's, 204.

Vision of Mirza, Addison's, 94.

Volney, Count de, 162.

Voltaire, 95.

Walker, George, 76, 77, 129.

Wallace, Sir William, 13, 21 note.

Walpole, Horace, 12, 13, 16-23, 25, 27, 28, 30, 31, 32, 33, 37, 39, 175, 185, 188.

Wandering Jew, 12, 14, 68, 92, 118, 120, 158.

Wandering Willie's Tale, Scott's, 147, 148, 149, 151-152.

Watt, Robert, 75, 129.

Waverley, Scott's, 59, 145, 146, 153, 166.

Webster, John, 4, 127.

Wehr-Wolf, 188.

Weit Weber, 65.

Wells, H.G., 196, 227.

Werther, Sorrows of, Goethe's, 65, 162.

Wesley, John, 6.

West Wind, Ode to the, Shelley's, 127.

White Old Maid, Hawthorne's,

Wieland, C.B. Brown's, 140, 198.

Wilde, Oscar, 226.

Wild Irish Boy, Maturin's, 81.

Wild Irish Girl, Lady Morgan's, 81.

"Wild Roses," 186.

Wilkinson, Miss Sarah, 66, 73, 74, 76, 77-80.

Will, R., 76, 129.

William and Margaret, Mallet's, 7.

William Lovell, Tieck's, 65.

William Wilson, Poe's, 217.

Windsor Castle, Ainsworth's, 176.

Witch of Fife, Hogg's, 11.

Woman in White, Wilkie Collins', 190, 225.

Women, Maturin's, 81.

Wood-Demon, 188.

Woodstock, Scott's, 149, 153, 154.

"Writing on the Wall," 221.

Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte's, 224.

Yellow Mask, Wilkie Collins', 190.

Zanoni, Lytton's, 116, 179, 180-182.

Zastrozzi, Shelley's, 13, 66, 121, 122-123.

Zeluco, Dr. John Moore's, 53.

Zicci, Lytton's, 116, 180.

Zofloya, Miss Charlotte Dacre's, 122-123, 124.

Zschokke, Heinrich, 70.



Glasgow: Printed at the University Press by Robert MacLehose and Co. Ltd.

THE END