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The Vampyre de John William
Polidori
John William
Polidori (Gran Bretaña, 1795-1821)
 Médico
y escritor inglés nacido en Londres. Hijo de un patriota italiano,
en 1815 se graduó en Medicina por la Universidad de Edimburgo. A
partir de 1816 fue médico y secretario personal del poeta Lord Byron.
Ese año le acompaño en un viaje por toda Europa. En una noche de
1816, recluidos por una tormenta en Villa Diodati, al lado del lago
Leman, en Ginebra, Lord Byron, Polidori, Percy Shelley y su flamante
esposa Mary, pasaron la noche leyendo historias de fantasmas y
propusieron escribir sus propias historias. Mary Shelley y Polidori
llevaron a cabo el desafío. Aquella escribió Frankenstein, este
escribió El vampiro (1819), un cuento cuya importancia radica
en la creación de la imagen prototípica del vampiro. Su personaje
principal Lord Ruthven, aristocrático, sofisticado, misterioso,
frío, encantador para las mujeres y bebedor de sangre, se pasea por
los círculos más selectos. No hace falta ser muy sagaz para
descubrir que el siniestro, flaco y pálido Lord Ruthven no es otra
cosa que un retrato despiadado de Lord Byron. El que eligiera la
figura de un vampiro para descargar su reprimida animadversión hacia
el poeta, sugiere que era así como Polidori vivía inconscientemente
esa relación: con su personalidad vampirizada por la del otro.
Despedido por Byron y después de escribir un poema ambicioso, La
caída de los ángeles (1821), murió en circunstancias
misteriosas, probablemente por un veneno que él mismo se suministró
THE VAMPIRE
by John Polidori
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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