The Vampyre09:41 Jan 27 2009
Times Read: 614
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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