THE VAMPYRE
by
John Polidori
(zur
deutschen Übersetzung)
It happened that in the midst of the dissipations attendant
upon London winter, there appeared at the various parties of
the leaders of the ton a nobleman more remarkable for his
singularities, than his rank. He gazed upon the mirth around
him, as if he could not participate therein. Apparently, the
light laughter of the fair only attracted his attention, that
he might by a look quell it and throw fear into those breasts
where thoughtlessness reigned. Those who felt this sensation
of awe, could not explain whence it arose: some attributed it
to the dead grey eye, which, fixing upon the object's face,
did not seem to penetrate, and at one glance to pierce through
to the inward workings of the heart; but fell upon the cheek
with a leaden ray that weighed upon the skin it could not
pass. His peculiarities caused him to be invited to every
house; all wished to see him, and those who had been
accustomed to violent excitement, and now felt the weight of
ennui, were pleased at having something in their presence
capable of engaging their attention. In spite of the deadly
hue of his face, which never gained a wanner tint, either from
the blush of modesty, or from the strong emotion of passion,
though its form and outline were beautiful, many of the female
hunters after notoriety attempted to win his attentions, and
gain, at least, some marks of what they might term affection:
Lady Mercer, who had been the mockery of every monster shewn
in drawing-rooms since her marriage, threw herself in his way,
and did all but put on the dress of a mountebank, to attract
his notice -- though in vain; -- when she stood before him,
though his eyes were apparently fixed upon hers, still it
seemed as if they were unperceived; -- even her unappalled
impudence was baffled, and she left the field. But though the
common adultress could not influence even the guidance of his
eyes, it was not that the female sex was indifferent to him:
yet such was the apparent caution with which he spoke to the
virtuous wife and innocent daughter, that few knew he ever
addressed himself to females. He had, however, the reputation
of a winning tongue; and whether it was that it even overcame
the dread of his singular character, or that they were moved
by his apparent hatred of vice, he was as often among those
females who form the boast of their sex from their domestic
virtues, as among those who sully it by their vices.
About the same time, there came to London a young gentleman of
the name of Aubrey: he was an orphan left with an only sister
in the possession of great wealth, by parents who died while
he was yet in childhood. Left also to himself by guardians,
who thought it their duty merely to take care of his fortune,
while they relinquished the more important charge of his mind
to the care of mercenary subalterns, he cultivated more his
imagination than his judgment. He had, hence, that high
romantic feeling of honour and candour, which daily ruins so
many milliners' apprentices. He believed all to sympathise
with virtue, and thought that vice was thrown in by Providence
merely for the picturesque effect of the scene, as we see in
romances: he thought that the misery of a cottage merely
consisted in the vesting of clothes, which were as warm, but
which were better adapted to the painter's eye by their
irregular folds and various coloured patches. He thought, in
fine, that the dreams of poets were the realities of life. He
was handsome, frank, and rich: for these reasons, upon his
entering into the gay circles, many mothers surrounded him,
striving which should describe with least truth their
languishing or romping favourites: the daughters at the same
time, by their brightening countenances when he approached,
and by their sparkling eyes, when he opened his lips, soon led
him into false notions of his talents and his merit. Attached
as he was to the romance of his solitary hours, he was
startled at finding, that, except in the tallow and wax
candles that flickered, not from the presence of a ghost, but
from want of snuffing, there was no foundation in real life
for any of that congeries of pleasing pictures and
descriptions contained in those volumes, from which he had
formed his study. Finding, however, some compensation in his
gratified vanity, he was about to relinquish his dreams, when
the extraordinary being we have above described, crossed him
in his career.
He watched him; and the very impossibility of forming an idea
of the character of a man entirely absorbed in himself, who
gave few other signs of his observation of external objects,
than the tacit assent to their existence, implied by the
avoidance of their contact: allowing his imagination to
picture every thing that flattered its propensity to
extravagant ideas, he soon formed this object into the hero of
a romance, and determined to observe the offspring of his
fancy, rather than the person before him. He became acquainted
with him, paid him attentions, and so far advanced upon his
notice, that his presence was always recognised. He gradually
learnt that Lord Ruthven's affairs were embarrassed, and soon
found, from the notes of preparation in ---- Street, that he
was about to travel. Desirous of gaining some information
respecting this singular character, who, till now, had only
whetted his curiosity, he hinted to his guardians, that it was
time for him to perform the tour, which for many generations
has been thought necessary to enable the young to take some
rapid steps in the career of vice towards putting themselves
upon an equality with the aged, and not allowing them to
appear as if fallen from the skies, whenever scandalous
intrigues are mentioned as the subjects of pleasantry or of
praise, according to the degree of skill shewn in carrying
them on. They consented: and Aubrey immediately mentioning his
intentions to Lord Ruthven, was surprised to receive from him
a proposal to join him. Flattered such a mark of esteem from
him, who, apparently, had nothing in common with other men, he
gladly accepted it, and in a few days they had passed the
circling waters.
Hitherto, Aubrey had had no opportunity of studying Lord
Ruthven's character, and now he found, that, though many more
of his actions were exposed to his view, the results offered
different conclusions from the apparent motives to his conduct.
His companion was profuse in his liberality; -- the idle, the
vagabond, and the beggar, received from his hand more than
enough to relieve their immediate wants. But Aubrey could not
avoid remarking, that it was not upon the virtuous, reduced to
indigence by the misfortunes attendant even upon virtue, that
he bestowed his alms; -- these were sent from the door with
hardly suppressed sneers; but when the profligate came to ask
something, not to relieve his wants, but to allow him to
wallow in his lust, to sink him still deeper in his iniquity,
he was sent away with rich charity. This was, however,
attributed by him to the greater importunity of the vicious,
which generally prevails over the retiring bashfulness of the
virtuous indigent. There was one circumstance about the
charity of his Lordship, which was still more impressed upon
his mind: all those upon whom it was bestowed, inevitably
found that there was a curse upon it, for they were all either
led to the scaffold, or sunk to the lowest and the most abject
misery. At Brussels and other towns through which they passed,
Aubrey was surprised at the apparent eagerness with which his
companion sought for the centres of all fashionable vice;
there he entered into all the spirit of the faro table: he
betted and always gambled with success, except where the known
sharper was his antagonist, and then he lost even more than he
gained; but it was always with the same unchanging face, with
which he generally watched the society around: it was not,
however, so when he encountered the rash youthful novice, or
the luckless father of a numerous family; then his very wish
seemed fortune's law -- this apparent abstractedness of mind
was laid aside, and his eyes sparkled with more fire than that
of the cat whilst dallying with the half-dead mouse. In every
town, he left the formerly affluent youth, torn from the
circle he adorned, cursing, in the solitude of a dungeon, the
fate that had drawn him within the reach of this fiend; whilst
many a father sat frantic, amidst the speaking looks of mute
hungry children, without a single farthing of his late immense
wealth, wherewith to buy even sufficient to satisfy their
present craving. Yet he took no money from the gambling table;
but immediately lost, to the ruiner of many, the last gilder
he had just snatched from the convulsive grasp of the innocent:
this might but be the result of a certain degree of knowledge,
which was not, however, capable of combating the cunning of
the more experienced. Aubrey often wished to represent this to
his friend, and beg him to resign that charity and pleasure
which proved the ruin of all, and did not tend to his own
profit; but he delayed it -- for each day he hoped his friend
would give him some opportunity of speaking frankly and openly
to him; however, this never occurred. Lord Ruthven in his
carriage, and amidst the various wild and rich scenes of
nature, was always the same: his eye spoke less than his lip;
and though Aubrey was near the object of his curiosity, he
obtained no greater gratification from it than the constant
excitement of vainly wishing to break that mystery, which to
his exalted imagination began to assume the appearance of
something supernatural.
They soon arrived at Rome, and Aubrey for a time lost sight of
his companion; he left him in daily attendance upon the
morning circle of an Italian countess, whilst he went in
search of the memorials of another almost deserted city.
Whilst he was thus engaged, letters arrived from England,
which he opened with eager impatience; the first was from his
sister, breathing nothing but affection; the others were from
his guardians, the latter astonished him; if it had before
entered into his imagination that there was an evil power
resident in his companion these seemed to give him almost
sufficient reason for the belief. His guardians insisted upon
his immediately leaving his friend, and urged that his
character was dreadfully vicious, for that the possession of
irresistible powers of seduction, rendered his licentious
habits more dangerous to society. It had been discovered, that
his contempt for the adultress had not originated in hatred of
her character; but that he had required, to enhance his
gratification, that his victim, the partner of his guilt,
should be hurled from the pinnacle of unsullied virtue, down
to the lowest abyss of infamy and degradation: in fine, that
all those females whom he had sought, apparently on account of
their virtue, had, since his departure, thrown even the mask
aside, and had not scrupled to expose the whole deformity of
their vices to the public gaze.
Aubrey determined upon leaving one, whose character had not
shown a single bright point on which to rest the eye. He
resolved to invent some plausible pretext for abandoning him
altogether, purposing, in the mean while, to watch him more
closely, and to let no slight circumstances pass by unnoticed.
He entered into the same circle, and soon perceived, that his
Lordship was endeavouring to work upon the inexperience of the
daughter of the lady whose house he chiefly frequented. In
Italy, it is seldom that an unmarried female is met with in
society; he was therefore obliged to carry on his plans in
secret; but Aubrey's eye followed him in all his windings, and
soon discovered that an assignation had been appointed, which
would most likely end in the ruin of an innocent, though
thoughtless girl. Losing no time, he entered the apartment of
Lord Ruthven, and abruptly asked him his intentions with
respect to the lady, informing him at the same time that he
was aware of his being about to meet her that very night. Lord
Ruthven answered, that his intentions were such as he supposed
all would have upon such an occasion; and upon being pressed
whether he intended to marry her, merely laughed. Aubrey
retired; and, immediately writing a note, to say, that from
that moment he must decline accompanying his Lordship in the
remainder of their proposed tour, he ordered his servant to
seek other apartments, and calling upon the mother of the lady
informed her of all he knew, not only with regard to her
daughter, but also concerning the character of his Lordship.
The assignation was prevented. Lord Ruthven next day merely
sent his servant to notify his complete assent to a separation;
but did not hint any suspicion of his plans having been foiled
by Aubrey's interposition.
Having left Rome, Aubrey directed his steps towards Greece,
and crossing the Peninsula, soon found himself at Athens. He
then fixed residence in the house of a Greek; and soon
occupied himself in tracing the faded records of ancient glory
upon monuments that apparently, ashamed of chronicling the
deeds of freemen only before slaves, had hidden themselves
beneath the sheltering soil or many coloured lichen. Under the
same roof as himself, existed a being, so beautiful and
delicate, that she might have formed the model for a painter,
wishing to portray on canvass the promised hope of the
faithful in Mahomet's paradise, save that her eyes spoke too
much mind for any one to think she could belong to those who
had no souls. As she danced upon the plain, or tripped along
the mountain's side, one would have thought the gazelle a poor
type of her beauties; for who would have exchanged her eye,
apparently the eye of animated nature, for that sleepy
luxurious look of the animal suited but to the taste of an
epicure. The light step of Ianthe often accompanied Aubrey in
his search after antiquities, and often would the unconscious
girl, engaged in the pursuit of a Kashmere butterfly, show the
whole beauty of her form, boating as it were upon the wind, to
the eager gaze of him, who forgot the letters he had just
decyphered upon an almost effaced tablet, in the contemplation
of her sylph-like figure. Often would her tresses falling, as
she flitted around, exhibit in the sun's ray such delicately
brilliant and swiftly fading hues, as might well excuse the
forgetfulness of the antiquary, who let escape from his mind
the very object he had before thought of vital importance to
the proper interpretation of a passage in Pausanias. But why
attempt to describe charms which all feel, but none can
appreciate? -- It was innocence, youth, and beauty, unaffected
by crowded drawing-rooms and stifling balls. Whilst he drew
those remains of which he wished to preserve a memorial for
his future hours, she would stand by, and watch the magic
effects of his pencil, in tracing the scenes of her native
place; she would then describe to him the circling dance upon
the open plain, would paint to him in all the glowing colours
of youthful memory, the marriage pomp she remembered viewing
in her infancy; and then, turning to subjects that had
evidently made a greater impression upon her mind, would tell
him all the supernatural tales of her nurse. Her earnestness
and apparent belief of what she narrated, excited the interest
even of Aubrey; and often as she told him the tale of the
living vampyre, who had passed years amidst his friends, and
dearest ties, forced every year, by feeding upon the life of a
lovely female to prolong his existence for the ensuing months,
his blood would run cold, whilst he attempted to laugh her out
of such idle and horrible fantasies; but Ianthe cited to him
the names of old men, who had at last detected one living
among themselves, after several of their near relatives and
children had been found marked with the stamp of the fiend's
appetite; and when she found him so incredulous, she begged of
him to believe her, for it had been remarked, that those who
had dared to question their existence, always had some proof
given, which obliged them, with grief and heartbreaking, to
confess it was true. She detailed to him the traditional
appearance of these monsters, and his horror was increased by
hearing a pretty accurate description of Lord Ruthven; he,
however, still persisted in persuading her, that there could
be no truth in her fears, though at the same time he wondered
at the many coincidences which had all tended to excite a
belief in the supernatural power of Lord Ruthven.
Aubrey began to attach himself more and more to Ianthe; her
innocence, so contrasted with all the affected virtues of the
women among whom he had sought for his vision of romance, won
his heart and while he ridiculed the idea of a young man of
English habits, marrying an uneducated Greek girl, still he
found himself more and more attached to the almost fairy form
before him. He would tear himself at times from her, and,
forming a plan for some antiquarian research, would depart,
determined not to return until his object was attained; but he
always found it impossible to fix his attention upon the ruins
around him, whilst in his mind he retained an image that
seemed alone the rightful possessor of his thoughts. Ianthe
was unconscious of his love, and was ever the same frank
infantile being he had first known. She always seemed to part
from him with reluctance; but it was because she had no longer
any one with whom she could visit her favourite haunts, whilst
her guardian was occupied in sketching or uncovering some
fragment which had yet escaped the destructive hand of time.
She had appealed to her parents on the subject of Vampyres,
and they both, with several present, affirmed their existence,
pale with horror at the very name. Soon after, Aubrey
determined to proceed upon one of his excursions, which was to
detain him for a few hours; when they heard the name of the
place, they all at once begged of him not to return at night,
as he must necessarily pass through a wood, where no Greek
would ever remain, after the day had closed, upon any
consideration. They described it as the resort of the vampyres
in their nocturnal orgies and denounced the most heavy evils
as impending upon him who dared to cross their path. Aubrey
made light of their representations, and tried to laugh them
out of the idea; but when he saw them shudder at his daring
thus to mock a superior, infernal power, the very name of
which apparently made their blood freeze, he was silent.
Next morning Aubrey set off upon his excursion unattended; he
was surprised to observe the melancholy face of his host, and
was concerned to find that his words, mocking the belief of
those horrible fiends, had inspired them with such terror.
When he was about to depart, Ianthe came to the side of his
horse, and earnestly begged of him to return, ere night
allowed the power of these beings to be put in action; -- he
promised. He was, however, so occupied in his research, that
he did not perceive that day-light would soon end, and that in
the horizon there was one of those specks which, in the warmer
climates, so rapidly gather into a tremendous mass, and pour
all their rage upon the devoted country. -- He at last,
however, mounted his horse, determined to make up by speed for
his delay: but it was too late. Twilight, in these southern
climates, is almost unknown; immediately the sun sets, night
begins: and ere he had advanced far, the power of the storm
was above -- its echoing thunders had scarcely an interval of
rest; -- its thick heavy rain forced its way through the
canopying foliage, whilst the blue forked lightning seemed to
fall and radiate at his very feet. Suddenly his horse took
fright, and he was carried with dreadful rapidity through the
entangled forest. The animal at last, through fatigue, stopped,
and he found, by the glare of lightning, that he was in the
neighbourhood of a hovel that hardly lifted itself up from the
masses of dead leaves and brushwood which surrounded it.
Dismounting, he approached, hoping to find some one to guide
him to the town, or at least trusting to obtain shelter from
the pelting of the storm. As he approached, the thunders, for
a moment silent, allowed him to hear the dreadful shrieks of a
woman mingling with the stifled, exultant mockery of a laugh,
continued in one almost unbroken sound; -- he was startled:
but, roused by the thunder which again rolled over his head,
he, with a sudden effort, forced open the door of the hut. He
found himself in utter darkness: the sound, however, guided
him. He was apparently unperceived; for, though he called,
still the sounds continued, and no notice was taken of him. He
found himself in contact with some one, whom he immediately
seized; when a voice cried, "Again baffled!" to
which a loud laugh succeeded; and he felt himself grappled by
one whose strength seemed superhuman: determined to sell his
life as dearly as he could, he struggled; but it was in vain:
he was lifted from his feet and hurled with enormous force
against the ground: -- his enemy threw himself upon him, and
kneeling upon his breast, had placed his hands upon his throat
when the glare of many torches penetrating through the hole
that gave light in the day, disturbed him; -- he instantly
rose, and, leaving his prey, rushed through the door, and in a
moment the crashing of branches, as he broke through the wood,
was no longer heard. The storm was now still; and Aubrey,
incapable of moving, was soon heard by those without. They
entered; the light of their torches fell upon mud walls, and
the thatch loaded on every individual straw with heavy flakes
of soot. At the desire of Aubrey they searched for her who had
attracted him by her cries; he was again left in darkness; but
what was his horror, when the light of the torches once more
burst upon him, to perceive the airy form of his fair
conductress brought in a lifeless corpse. He shut his eyes,
hoping that it was but a vision arising from his disturbed
imagination; but he again saw the same form, when he unclosed
them, stretched by his side. There was no colour upon her
cheek, not even upon her lip; yet there was a stillness about
her face that seemed almost as attaching as the life that once
dwelt there: -- upon her neck and breast was blood, and upon
her throat were the marks of teeth having opened the vein: --
to this the men pointed, crying, simultaneously struck with
horror, "A Vampyre! a Vampyre!" A litter was quickly
formed, and Aubrey was laid by the side of her who had lately
been to him the object of so many bright and fairy visions,
now fallen; with the flower of life that had died within her.
He knew not what his thoughts were -- his mind was benumbed
and seemed to shun reflection and take refuge in vacancy; --
he held almost unconsciously in his hand a naked dagger of a
particular construction, which had been found in the hut. They
were soon met by different parties who had been engaged in the
search of her whom a mother had missed. Their lamentable cries
as they approached the city, forewarned the parents of some
dreadful catastrophe. -- To describe their grief would be
impossible; but when they ascertained the cause of their
child's death, they looked at Aubrey and pointed to the corpse.
They were inconsolable; both died brokenhearted.
Aubrey being put to bed was seized with a most violent fever,
and was often delirious; in these intervals he would call upon
Lord Ruthven and upon Ianthe -- by some unaccountable
combination he seemed to beg of his former companion to spare
the being he loved. At other times he would imprecate
maledictions upon his head, and curse him as her destroyer.
Lord Ruthven chanced at this time to arrive at Athens, and
from whatever motive, upon hearing of the state of Aubrey,
immediately placed himself in the same house, and became his
constant attendant. When the latter recovered from his
delirium, he was horrified and startled at the sight of him
whose image he had now combined with that of a Vampyre; but
Lord Ruthven, by his kind words, implying almost repentance
for the fault that had caused their separation, and still more
by the attention, anxiety, and care which he showed, soon
reconciled him to his presence. His lordship seemed quite
changed; he no longer appeared that apathetic being who had so
astonished Aubrey; but as soon as his convalescence began to
be rapid, he again gradually retired into the same state of
mind, and Aubrey perceived no difference from the former man,
except that at times he was surprised to meet his gaze fixed
intently upon him, with a smile of malicious exultation
playing upon his lips: he knew not why, but this smile haunted
him. During the last stage of the invalid's recovery, Lord
Ruthven was apparently engaged in watching the tideless waves
raised by the cooling breeze, or in marking the progress of
those orbs, circling, like our world, the moveless sun; --
indeed, he appeared to wish to avoid the eyes of all.
Aubrey's mind, by this shock, was much weakened, and that
elasticity of spirit which had once so distinguished him now
seemed to have fled for ever. He was now as much a lover of
solitude and silence as Lord Ruthven; but much as he wished
for solitude, his mind could not find it in the neighbourhood
of Athens; if he sought it amidst the ruins he had formerly
frequented, Ianthe's form stood by his side; -- if he sought
it in the woods, her light step would appear wandering amidst
the underwood, in quest of the modest violet; then suddenly
turning round, would show, to his wild imagination, her pale
face and wounded throat, with a meek smile upon her lips. He
determined to fly scenes, every feature of which created such
bitter associations in his mind. He proposed to Lord Ruthven,
to whom he held himself bound by the tender care he had taken
of him during his illness, that they should visit those parts
of Greece neither had yet seen. They travelled in every
direction, and sought every spot to which a recollection could
be attached: but though they thus hastened from place to place,
yet they seemed not to heed what they gazed upon. They heard
much of robbers, but they gradually began to slight these
reports, which they imagined were only the invention of
individuals, whose interest it was to excite the generosity of
those whom they defended from pretended dangers. In
consequence of thus neglecting the advice of the inhabitants,
on one occasion they travelled with only a few guards, more to
serve as guides than as a defence. Upon entering, however, a
narrow defile, at the bottom of which was the bed of a torrent,
with large masses of rock brought down from the neighbouring
precipices, they had reason to repent their negligence; for
scarcely were the whole of the party engaged in the narrow
pass, when they were startled by the whistling of bullets
close to their heads, and by the echoed report of several guns.
In an instant their guards had left them, and, placing
themselves behind rocks, had begun to fire in the direction
whence the report came. Lord Ruthven and Aubrey, imitating
their example, retired for a moment behind the sheltering turn
of the defile: but ashamed of being thus detained by a foe,
who with insulting shouts bade them advance, and being exposed
to unresisting slaughter, if any of the robbers should climb
above and take them in the rear, they determined at once to
rush forward in search of the enemy. Hardly had they lost the
shelter of rock, when Lord Ruthven received a shot in the
shoulder, which brought him to the ground. Aubrey hastened to
his assistance; and, no longer heeding the contest or his own
peril, was soon surprised by seeing the robbers' faces around
him -- his guards having, upon Lord Ruthven's being wounded,
immediately thrown up their arms and surrendered.
By promises of great reward, Aubrey soon induced them to
convey his wounded friend to a neighbouring cabin; and having
agreed upon a ransom, he was no more disturbed by their
presence -- they being content merely to guard the entrance
till their comrade should return with the promised sum, for
which he had an order. Lord Ruthven's strength rapidly
decreased; in two days mortification ensued, and death seemed
advancing with hasty steps. His conduct and appearance had not
changed; he seemed as unconscious of pain as he had been of
the objects about him: but towards the close of the last
evening, his mind became apparently uneasy, and his eye often
fixed upon Aubrey, who was induced to offer his assistance
with more than usual earnestness -- "Assist me! you may
save me -- you may do more than that -- I mean not life, I
heed the death of my existence as little as that of the
passing day; but you may save my honour, your friend's honour."
-- "How? tell me how? I would do any thing," replied
Aubrey. -- "I need but little, my life ebbs apace -- I
cannot explain the whole -- but if you would conceal all you
know of me, my honour were free from stain in the world's
mouth -- and if my death were unknown for some time in England
-- I -- I -- but life." -- "It shall not be known."
-- "Swear!" cried the dying man raising himself with
exultant violence. "Swear by all your soul reveres, by
all your nature fears, swear that for a year and a day you
will not impart your knowledge of my crimes or death to any
living being in any way, whatever may happen, or whatever you
may see." -- His eyes seemed bursting from their sockets;
"I swear!" said Aubrey; he sunk laughing upon his
pillow, and breathed no more.
Aubrey retired to rest, but did not sleep; the many
circumstances attending his acquaintance with this man rose
upon his mind, and he knew not why; when he remembered his
oath a cold shivering came over him, as if from the
presentiment of something horrible awaiting him. Rising early
in the morning, he was about to enter the hovel in which he
had left the corpse, when a robber met him, and informed him
that it was no longer there, having been conveyed by himself
and comrades, upon his retiring, to the pinnacle of a
neighbouring mount, according to a promise they had given his
lordship, that it should be exposed to the first cold ray of
the moon that rose after his death. Aubrey astonished, and
taking several of the men, determined to go and bury it upon
the spot where it lay. But, when he had mounted to the summit
he found no trace of either the corpse or the clothes, though
the robbers swore they pointed out the identical rock on which
they had laid the body. For a time his mind was bewildered in
conjectures, but he at last returned, convinced that they had
buried the corpse for the sake of the clothes.
Weary of a country in which he had met with such terrible
misfortunes, and in which all apparently conspired to heighten
that superstitious melancholy that had seized upon his mind,
he resolved to leave it, and soon arrived at Smyrna. While
waiting for a vessel to convey him to Otranto, or to Naples,
he occupied himself in arranging those effects he had with him
belonging to Lord Ruthven. Amongst other things there was a
case containing several weapons of offence, more or less
adapted to ensure the death of the victim. There were several
daggers and ataghans. Whilst turning them over, and examining
their curious forms, what was his surprise at finding a sheath
apparently ornamented in the same style as the dagger
discovered in the fatal hut; -- he shuddered; hastening to
gain further proof, he found the weapon, and his horror may be
imagined when he discovered that it fitted, though peculiarly
shaped, the sheath he held in his hand. His eyes seemed to
need no further certainty -- they seemed gazing to be bound to
the dagger, yet still he wished to disbelieve; but the
particular form, the same varying tints upon the haft and
sheath were alike in splendour on both, and left no room for
doubt; there were also drops of blood on each.
He left Smyrna, and on his way home, at Rome, his first
inquiries were concerning the lady he had attempted to snatch
from Lord Ruthven's seductive arts. Her parents were in
distress, their fortune ruined, and she had not been heard of
since the departure of his lordship. Aubrey's mind became
almost broken under so many repeated horrors; he was afraid
that this lady had fallen a victim to the destroyer of Ianthe.
He became morose and silent; and his only occupation consisted
in urging the speed of the postilions, as if he were going to
save the life of some one he held dear. He arrived at Calais;
a breeze, which seemed obedient to his will, soon wafted him
to the English shores; and he hastened to the mansion of his
fathers, and there, for a moment, appeared to lose, in the
embraces and caresses of his sister, all memory of the past.
If she before, by her infantine caresses, had gained his
affection, now that the woman began to appear, she was still
more attaching as a companion.
Miss Aubrey had not that winning grace which gains the gaze
and applause of the drawing-room assemblies. There was none of
that light brilliancy which only exists in the heated
atmosphere of a crowded apartment. Her blue eye was never lit
up by the levity of the mind beneath. There was a melancholy
charm about it which did not seem to arise from misfortune,
but from some feeling within, that appeared to indicate a soul
conscious of a brighter realm. Her step was not that light
footing, which strays where'er a butterfly or a colour may
attract -- it was sedate and pensive. When alone, her face was
never brightened by the smile of joy; but when her brother
breathed to her his affection, and would in her presence
forget those griefs she knew destroyed his rest, who would
have exchanged her smile for that of the voluptuary? It seemed
as if those eyes, that face were then playing in the light of
their own native sphere. She was yet only eighteen, and had
not been presented to the world, it having been thought by her
guardians more fit that her presentation should be delayed
until her brother's return from the continent, when he might
be her protector. It was now, therefore, resolved that the
next drawing-room, which was fast approaching, should be the
epoch of her entry into the "busy scene." Aubrey
would rather have remained in the mansion of his fathers, and
feed upon the melancholy which overpowered him. He could not
feel interest about the frivolities of fashionable strangers,
when his mind had been so torn by the events he had witnessed;
but he determined to sacrifice his own comfort to the
protection of his sister. They soon arrived in town, and
prepared for the next day, which had been announced as a
drawing- room.
The crowd was excessive -- a drawing-room had not been held
for long time, and all who were anxious to bask in the smile
of royalty, hastened thither. Aubrey was there with his sister.
While he was standing in a corner by himself, heedless of all
around him, engaged in the remembrance that the first time he
had seen Lord Ruthven was in that very place -- he felt
himself suddenly seized by the arm, and a voice he recognized
too well, sounded in his ear -- "Remember your oath."
He had hardly courage to turn, fearful of seeing a spectre
that would blast him, when he perceived, at a little distance,
the same figure which had attracted his notice on this spot
upon his first entry into society. He gazed till his limbs
almost refusing to bear their weight, he was obliged to take
the arm of a friend, and forcing a passage through the crowd,
he threw himself into his carriage, and was driven home. He
paced the room with hurried steps, and fixed his hands upon
his head, as if he were afraid his thoughts were bursting from
his brain. Lord Ruthven again before him -- circumstances
started up in dreadful array -- the dagger -- his oath. -- He
roused himself, he could not believe it possible -- the dead
rise again! -- He thought his imagination had conjured up the
image his mind was resting upon. It was impossible that it
could be real -- he determined, therefore, to go again into
society; for though he attempted to ask concerning Lord
Ruthven, the name hung upon his lips and he could not succeed
in gaining information. He went a few nights after with his
sister to the assembly of a near relation. Leaving her under
the protection of a matron, he retired into a recess, and
there gave himself up to his own devouring thoughts.
Perceiving, at last, that many were leaving, he roused himself,
and entering another room, found his sister surrounded by
several, apparently in earnest conversation; he attempted to
pass and get near her, when one, whom he requested to move,
turned round, and revealed to him those features he most
abhorred. He sprang forward, seized his sister's arm, and,
with hurried step, forced her towards the street: at the door
he found himself impeded by the crowd of servants who were
waiting for their lords; and while he was engaged in passing
them, he again heard that voice whisper close to him -- "Remember
your oath!" -- He did not dare to turn, but, hurrying his
sister, soon reached home.
Aubrey became almost distracted. If before his mind had been
absorbed by one subject, how much more completely was it
engrossed now that the certainty of the monster's living again
pressed upon his thoughts. His sister's attentions were now
unheeded, and it was in vain that she intreated him to explain
to her what had caused his abrupt conduct. He only uttered a
few words, and those terrified her. The more he thought, the
more he was bewildered. His oath startled him; -- was he then
to allow this monster to roam, bearing ruin upon his breath,
amidst all he held dear, and not avert its progress? His very
sister might have been touched by him. But even if he were to
break his oath, and disclose his suspicions, who would believe
him? He thought of employing his own hand to free the world
from such a wretch; but death, he remembered, had been already
mocked. For days he remained in state; shut up in his room, he
saw no one, and ate only when his sister came, who, with eyes
streaming with tears, besought him, for her sake, to support
nature. At last, no longer capable of bearing stillness and
solitude, he left his house, roamed from street to street,
anxious to fly that image which haunted him. His dress became
neglected, and he wandered, as often exposed to the noon-day
sun as to the mid-night damps. He was no longer to be
recognized; at first he returned with evening to the house;
but at last he laid him down to rest wherever fatigue overtook
him. His sister, anxious for his safety, employed people to
follow him; but they were soon distanced by him who fled from
a pursuer swifter than any -- from thought. His conduct,
however, suddenly changed. Struck with the idea that he left
by his absence the whole of his friends, with a fiend amongst
them, of whose presence they were unconscious, he determined
to enter again into society, and watch him closely, anxious to
forewarn, in spite of his oath, all whom Lord Ruthven
approached with intimacy. But when he entered into a room, his
haggard and suspicious looks were so striking, his inward
shuddering so visible, that his sister was at last obliged to
beg of him to abstain from seeking, for her sake, a society
which affected him so strongly. When, however, remonstrance
proved unavailing, the guardians thought proper to interpose,
and, fearing that his mind was becoming alienated, they
thought it high time to resume again that trust which had been
before imposed upon them by Aubrey's parents.
Desirous of saving him from the injuries and sufferings he had
daily encountered in his wanderings, and of preventing him
from exposing to the general eye those marks of what they
considered folly, they engaged a physician to reside in the
house, and take constant care of him. He hardly appeared to
notice it, so completely was his mind absorbed by one terrible
subject. His incoherence became at last so great that he was
confined to his chamber. There he would often lie for days,
incapable of being roused. He had become emaciated, his eyes
had attained a glassy lustre; -- the only sign of affection
and recollection remaining displayed itself upon the entry of
his sister; then he would sometimes start, and, seizing her
hands, with looks that severely afflicted her, he would desire
her not to touch him. "Oh, do not touch him -- if your
love for me is aught, do not go near him!" When, however,
she inquired to whom he referred, his only answer was, "True!
true!" and again he sank into a state, whence not even
she could rouse him. This lasted many months: gradually,
however, as the year was passing, his incoherences became less
frequent, and his mind threw off a portion of its gloom,
whilst his guardians observed, that several times in the day
he would count upon his fingers a definite number, and then
smile.
The time had nearly elapsed, when, upon the last day of the
year, one of his guardians entering his room, began to
converse with his physician upon the melancholy circumstance
of Aubrey's being in so awful a situation, when his sister was
going next day to be married. Instantly Aubrey's attention was
attracted; he asked anxiously to whom. Glad of this mark of
returning intellect, of which they feared he had been deprived,
they mentioned the name of the Earl of Marsden. Thinking this
was a young Earl whom he had met with in society, Aubrey
seemed pleased, and astonished them still more by his
expressing his intention to be present at the nuptials, and
desiring to see his sister. They answered not, but in a few
minutes his sister was with him. He was apparently again
capable of being affected by the influence of her lovely smile;
for he pressed her to his breast, and kissed her cheek, wet
with tears, flowing at the thought of her brother's being once
more alive to the feelings of affection. He began to speak
with all his wonted warmth, and to congratulate her upon her
marriage with a person so distinguished for rank and every
accomplishment; when he suddenly perceived a locket upon her
breast; opening it, what was his surprise at beholding the
features of the monster who had so long influenced his life.
He seized the portrait in a paroxysm of rage, and trampled it
under foot. Upon her asking him why he thus destroyed the
resemblance of her future husband, he looked as if he did not
understand her; -- then seizing her hands, and gazing on her
with a frantic expression of countenance, he bade her swear
that she would never wed this monster, for he -- But he could
not advance -- it seemed as if that voice again bade him
remember his oath -- he turned suddenly round, thinking Lord
Ruthven was near him but saw no one. In the meantime the
guardians and physician, who had heard the whole, and thought
this was but a return of his disorder, entered, and forcing
him from Miss Aubrey, desired her to leave him. He fell upon
his knees to them, he implored, he begged of them to delay but
for one day. They, attributing this to the insanity they
imagined had taken possession of his mind endeavoured to
pacify him, and retired.
Lord Ruthven had called the morning after the drawing-room,
and had been refused with every one else. When he heard of
Aubrey's ill health, he readily understood himself to be the
cause of it; but when he learned that he was deemed insane,
his exultation and pleasure could hardly be concealed from
those among whom he had gained this information. He hastened
to the house of his former companion, and, by constant
attendance, and the pretence of great affection for the
brother and interest in his fate, he gradually won the ear of
Miss Aubrey. Who could resist his power? His tongue had
dangers and toils to recount -- could speak of himself as of
an individual having no sympathy with any being on the crowded
earth, save with her to whom he addressed himself; -- could
tell how, since he knew her, his existence had begun to seem
worthy of preservation, if it were merely that he might listen
her soothing accents; -- in fine, he knew so well how to use
the serpent's art, or such was the will of fate, that he
gained her affections. The title of the elder branch falling
at length to him, he obtained an important embassy, which
served as an excuse for hastening the marriage (in spite of
her brother's deranged state), which was to take place the
very day before his departure for the continent.
Aubrey, when he was left by the physician and his guardians,
attempted to bribe the servants, but in vain. He asked for pen
and paper; it was given him; he wrote a letter to his sister,
conjuring her, as she valued her own happiness, her own honour,
and the honour of those now in the grave, who once held her in
their arms as their hope and the hope of their house, to delay
but for a few hours that marriage, on which he denounced the
most heavy curses. The servants promised they would deliver it;
but giving it to the physician, he thought it better not to
harass any more the mind of Miss Aubrey by, what he considered,
the ravings of a maniac. Night passed on without rest to the
busy inmates of the house; and Aubrey heard, with a horror
that may more easily be conceived than described, the notes of
busy preparation. Morning came, and the sound of carriages
broke upon his ear. Aubrey grew almost frantic. The curiosity
of the servants at last overcame their vigilance; they
gradually stole away, leaving him in the custody of an
helpless old woman. He seized the opportunity, with one bound
was out of the room, and in a moment found himself in the
apartment where all were nearly assembled. Lord Ruthven was
the first to perceive him: he immediately approached, and,
taking his arm by force, hurried him from the room, speechless
with rage. When on the staircase, Lord Ruthven whispered in
his ear -- "Remember your oath, and know, if not my bride
to day, your sister is dishonoured. Women are frail!" So
saying, he pushed him towards his attendants, who, roused by
the old woman, had come in search of him. Aubrey could no
longer support himself; his rage not finding vent, had broken
a blood-vessel, and he was conveyed to bed. This was not
mentioned to his sister, who was not present when he entered,
as the physician was afraid of agitating her. The marriage was
solemnized, and the bride and bridegroom left London.
Aubrey's weakness increased; the effusion of blood produced
symptoms of the near approach of death. He desired his
sister's guardians might be called, and when the midnight hour
had struck, he related composedly what the reader has perused
-- he died immediately after.
The guardians hastened to protect Miss Aubrey; but when they
arrived, it was too late. Lord Ruthven had disappeared, and
Aubrey's sister had glutted the thirst of a VAMPYRE!
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