Vampire Books Online / Vampires and Vampirism: Part 3

CHAPTER XI
THE VAMPIRE IN LITERATURE

The subject of vampirism does not appear to have attracted litterateurs greatly. True, there are the operas of Palma, Hart, Marschner, and von Lindpainter; and Philostratus and Phlegon of Tralles have discoursed upon the phenomena. There are not, however, many works of fiction based upon the topic, or many poems in which the subject is introduced. There is an Anglo-Saxon poem with the title A Vampyre of the Fens, and a long, wearisome novel, full of gruesome details, entitled Varney the Vampire. Among modern authors, Mr Bram Stoker has made the vampire the foundation of his exciting romance Dracula; but mention of these works almost exhausts the references to separate works upon the subject.

Nor are the references to vampires and[151] vampirism in the ancient Greek authors more numerous. The phantom of Achilles is represented by Euripides (Hec., 109, 599) as appearing on his tomb clad in golden armour and appeased by the sacrifice of a young virgin, whose blood he drank. Œdipus also in Sophocles (Œd. Col., 621), when foretelling a defeat which the Thebans would sustain near his tomb, declares that his cold, dead body will drink their warm blood. Human victims were offered at the funeral pyre of Patroclus in the Iliad (vol. i.).

Though human beings are not sacrificed in the Odyssey, yet the blood of slaughtered sheep was eagerly lapped up by the ghosts consulted by Odysseus (xi. 45, 48, 95, 96, 153, etc.). A sheep was also to be sacrificed at the tombs of mortals, and its blood was supposed to be an offering acceptable to the departed spirit.

Pausanias, Strabo, Ælian, and Suidas relate the legend of Ulysses in his wanderings coming to the town of Temesa, in Italy, where one of his associates was stoned to death by the townsmen for having ravished a virgin. His ghost forthwith haunted the inhabitants, and caused them such[152] annoyance that many were thinking seriously of leaving the town when they were told by Apollo’s oracle that to appease him they must build the hero a temple, and sacrifice to him yearly the most beautiful virgin they had among them. The temple was accordingly raised: access to the sacred enclosure was prohibited to all except the priests, on penalty of death. An engraving of the evil spirit that is alleged to have infested Temesa is given on page 18 of Beaumont’s Treatise on Spirits (ed. 1705).

Philostratus, in his Life of Apollonius of Tyana (iv. 25, p. 165), says that the long intercourse which took place between a female spectre and the Corinthian Menippus was but a prelude to the feast of flesh and blood in which she meant to revel after their marriage.

Some have described the Hebrew lilith as a vampire, but the Jewish Encyclopædia states that: “There is nothing in the Talmud to indicate that the lilith was a vampire.” She was regarded as a nocturnal demon, flying about in the form of a night-owl, and stealing children, and was held to have permission to kill all children[153] sinfully begotten, even from a lawful wife. The lilith is held to have the same signification as the Greek strix and lamiæ, who were sorceresses or magicians, seeking to put to death new-born children. The ancient Greeks believed that these lamiæ devoured children, or sucked away all their blood until they died. Euripides and the scholiast of Aristophanes mention the lilith as a dangerous monster, the enemy of mortals; and Ovid describes the strigæ as dangerous birds, which fly by night and seek for infants to devour them and nourish themselves with their blood. The aluka of Proverbs xxx. 15 is more akin to the vampire. It is a blood-sucking, insatiable monster; the word is synonymous with algul, the well-known demon of the Arabian popular stories, “the man-devouring demon of the waste,” known as the ghoul or goule in the translated edition of the Arabian Nights.

Goethe, in his ballad The Bride of Corinth, describes how a young Athenian visits a friend of his father, to whose daughter he had been betrothed, and is disturbed at midnight by the appearance of the vampire spectre of her whom death has prevented[154] from becoming his bride, and who, when detected, says:—

There is one scant reference to the subject in Shelley’s poems. Byron, in his poem The Giaour, has the following passage:—

Dryden relates:—

Scott, in Rokeby, has the following lines:—

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The following legend is related in vol. ii. of Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, and is referred to in a footnote to Southey’s Thalaba the Destroyer (p. 108, ed. 1814):—

In the year 1058 a young man of noble birth had been married in Rome, and during the period of his nuptial feast, having gone with his companions to play at ball, he put his marriage ring on the finger of a broken statue of Venus in the area, to remain while he was engaged in recreation. Desisting from the exercise, he found the finger on which he had put his ring contracted firmly against the palm, and attempted in vain either to break or disengage the ring. He concealed the circumstances from his companions, and returned at night with a servant, when he found the finger extended and the ring gone. He dissembled the loss and returned to his wife; but when he attempted to embrace her he found himself prevented by something dark and dense, which was tangible if not visible, interposing between them; and he heard a voice saying: “Embrace me! for I am Venus, whom this day you wedded, and I will not restore your ring.” As this was constantly repeated, he consulted his relatives,[156] who had recourse to Palumbus, the priest, skilled in necromancy. He directed the young man to go at a certain hour of the night to a spot among the ruins of ancient Rome where four roads meet, and wait silently till he saw a company pass by, and then, without uttering a word, to deliver a letter which he gave him to a majestic being who rode in a chariot after the rest of the company. The young man did as he was directed, and saw the company of all ages, classes and ranks, on horse and on foot, some joyful and others sad, pass along; among whom he distinguished a woman in a meretricious dress, who, from the tenuity of her garments, seemed almost naked. She rode on a mule; her long hair, which flowed over her shoulders, was bound with a golden fillet; and in her hand was a golden rod with which she directed her mule. In the close of the procession a tall, majestic figure appeared in a chariot adorned with emeralds and pearls, who fiercely asked the young man what he did there. He presented the letter in silence, which the demon dared not refuse. As soon as he had read, lifting up his hands to heaven, he exclaimed: “Almighty God![157] how long wilt Thou endure the iniquities of the sorcerer Palumbus!” and immediately despatched some of his attendants, who, with much difficulty, extorted the ring from Venus and restored it to its owner, whose infernal banns were thus dissolved. This legend was made the foundation of Liddell’s poem, The Vampire Bride.

Dion Boucicault wrote and produced a vampire play entitled The Phantom, the scene of which was laid in the ruins of Raby Castle. Anyone remaining in these ruins for one night met with certain death before the morning. The only sign of violence to be found was a wound on the right side of the throat, but no blood was to be seen. The face of the victim was white and the gaze fixed, as though the person had died from fright.

In April 1819 a story entitled “The Vampyre” appeared in Colburn’s New Monthly Magazine, which was attributed to Lord Byron, but which was really from the pen of Dr John William Polidori (uncle of William Michael Rossetti), who was for a time Lord Byron’s travelling physician. The work was also published separately,[158] but the authorship was denied by Lord Byron. Polidori immediately claimed responsibility for the work, and the correspondence and statement of facts published in Rossetti’s Diary of Doctor John William Polydori show how the mistake occurred.

The following poem appears in the Life of James Clerk Maxwell, by Lewis Campbell and William Garnett, and was written by Maxwell in 1845, when he was fourteen years of age:—

Mr Reginald Hodder, in The Vampire (William Rider & Son, Ltd.), has developed a theory which is a novel one in the annals of vampirism. The principal character is a living woman, a member of a secret sisterhood, who is forced to exercise her powers as a vampire to prevent loss of vitality. This power, however, is exercised through the medium of a metallic talisman, and the main thread of the story turns on the struggle for the possession of this talisman. It is wrested ultimately from the hands of those who would use it for malignant purposes, but its recovery is only accomplished by means of a number of extraordinary—though who would dare say impossible?—occult phenomena.

CHAPTER XII
FACT OR FICTION?

While some writers, belonging mainly to what is popularly known as the orthodox school of theology or professing a materialistic philosophy, have expressed an entire disbelief in the alleged phenomena, others, on the other hand, accepting generally the spiritistic or spiritualistic philosophy, have admitted the possibility of the phenomena, though not pledging their acceptance of all or any of the many stories told concerning the deeds, or rather the misdeeds, of the apparitions.

Dr Pierart, the well-known French savant, maintained that “the facts of vampirism are as well attested by inquiries made as are the facts of catalepsy,” and that “the facts of vampirism are as old as the world,” and pointed to the fact that Tertullian and St Augustine spoke of them.

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Gabriele D’Annunzio was another firm believer in their existence. In his Triumph of Death, translated by Georgina Harding, we read: “What have they not done? Candia told of all the different means they had tried, all the exorcisms they had resorted to. The priest had come and, after covering the child’s head with the end of his stole, had repeated verses from the Gospel. The mother had hung up a wax cross, blessed on Ascension Day, over a door, and had sprinkled the hinges with holy water and repeated the Creed three times in a loud voice; she had tied up a handful of salt in a piece of linen and hung it round the neck of her dying child. The father had ‘done the seven nights’—that is, for seven nights he had waited in the dark behind a lighted lantern, attentive to the slightest sound, ready to catch and grapple with the vampire. A single prick with the pin sufficed to make her visible to the human eye. But the seven nights’ watch had been fruitless, for the child wasted away and grew more hopelessly feeble from hour to hour. At last, in despair, the father had consulted with a wizard, by whose advice he had called a dog and put the body[163] behind the door. The vampire could not then enter the house till she counted every hair on its body.”

Calmet’s explanation of the spectres so much talked of in Hungary, Moravia, Poland, and elsewhere is that they are nothing but persons that are still alive in their graves, though without motion or respiration; and that the freshness and ruddy colour of their blood, the flexibility of their limbs, and their crying out when their hearts were run through with a stick, or their heads cut off, were demonstrative proofs of their being still alive. “But this,” he says, “does not affect the principal difficulty at which I stick, namely, how they come out of and go into their graves, without leaving any mark of the earth’s being removed; and how they appear to carry former clothes. If they are not really dead, why do they return to their graves again and not stay in the land of the living? Why do they suck the blood of their relations, and torment and pester persons that should naturally be true to them and never give them any offence? On the other hand, if it be nothing but a mere whim of the persons infested, whence comes it that[164] these carcases are found in their graves uncorrupted, full of blood, with their limbs pliant and flexible, and their feet dirty, the next day after they have been patrolling about and frightening the neighbourhood, whilst nothing of this sort can be discovered in other carcases that were buried at the same time and in the same mound? Whence is it that they come no more after they are burned or impaled?”

Other writers have accepted the theory that the subjects are not really dead, but are only in a death-like condition. The Germans express this condition of apparent death and of the perfect preservation of the living body by the term scheintod, which is, perhaps, better than the English term “suspended animation.” Dr Herbert Mayo describes the special condition of vampires as a “death-trance”—a positive status, a period of repose, the duration of which is sometimes definite and predetermined, though unknown, and says that the patient sometimes awakes suddenly when the term of the death-trance has expired. During this trance-period the action of the heart, breathing, voluntary motion, as well as feeling and intelligence and the vegetable[165] changes in the body, are said to be suspended. Two instances of the death-trance are quoted.

Cardinal Espinosa, prime minister under Philip the Second of Spain, died, as it was supposed, after a short illness. His rank entitled him to be embalmed. Accordingly, the body was opened for that purpose. The lungs and heart had just been brought into view, when the latter was seen to beat. The cardinal, awakening at the fatal moment, had still strength enough left to seize with his hand the knife of the anatomist.

On the 23rd of September 1763, the Abbé Prévost, the French novelist and compiler of travels, was seized with a fit in the forest of Chantilly. The body was found and conveyed to the residence of the nearest clergyman. It was supposed that death had taken place through apoplexy. But the local authorities, desiring to be satisfied of the fact, ordered the body to be examined. During the process the poor Abbé uttered a cry of agony. It was too late.

Among Theosophists and Continental spiritists a solution to the problem is found in their teaching concerning the astral body and the astral plane, as[166] conveyed by Madame Blavatsky in Isis Unveiled.

It is held that so long as the astral form is not entirely separated from the body there is a liability that it may be forced by magnetic attraction to re-enter it. Sometimes it will be only half-way out when the corpse, which presents the appearance of death, is buried. In such cases the astral body voluntarily re-enters the mortal frame, and then one of two things happens—either the unhappy victim will writhe in the agonising torture of suffocation, or if he has been grossly material he becomes a vampire. It is held that this ethereal form can go wherever it pleases, and that it is possible for this astral body to feed on human victims and carry the sustenance to the corpus lying within the tomb by means of an invisible cord of connection, the nature of which is at present unknown; but psychical researchers—and these number many eminent scientists—have of late years devoted their efforts towards the elucidation of the phenomenon known as the projection of the double; and this, if scientifically and satisfactorily explained, will give the clue to many of the phenomena of vampirism.

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This “double” may sometimes during life be projected unconsciously, and sometimes purposely, by means of hypnotism or provoked somnambulism. An example of the former appeared in the Journal du Magnétisme for October 1909, and the translation of the account was published in the Annals of Psychical Science for January-March 1910, and is here reproduced. The narrator is M. Antonio Salazar of Mexico.

“A Romantic Case of Projection of the Double

“In 1889 I lived at Juatlahuaca, in the state of Oaxaca, Mexico. For a long time I passionately loved the woman who afterwards became my wife.

“At the beginning of 1890, through one of those unfortunate disagreements which occasionally arise between parents and their children, those of my beloved one, wishing to put an end to our mutual love, separated us by taking her to the mountains; but this only increased our love, because of the difficulties and our desire to see each other.

“Several months passed after our separation, and though the distance between us was not great, we had to take into account[168] the vigilance with which she was surrounded, and which was a greater obstacle than the difficulties of the road.

“One night, when I was feeling, as usual, very sad and gloomy, the thought came to me to say to my servant: ‘Jeanette, if any morning you come into my room and do not find me, do not look for me; take the keys and open the shop. If at midday I have not arrived, you can seek for me in the mountains.’

“‘Ah, sir,’ she replied, ‘I would never oppose myself to your commands, if what you tell me did not concern persons whom I love and respect, because you will never thereby accomplish your object.’

“I knew that she was right, and I thought that the best thing I could do was to go to sleep and try to calm my imagination. She also retired, much distressed, and imploring all the saints, to whom she prayed, to prevent any unfortunate incident which would threaten the lives of three persons—my fiancée, her father, and myself.

“The following day I awoke with the same project in my mind, but before carrying it out I wished to inform my fiancée as to the day and hour at which I hoped to speak[169] to her. She replied by showing me the rashness of my project, and offering to do all she could to overcome the obstacles which prevented her from returning to live in the town, which she hoped to do in a few days, and which came to pass as she had predicted. I reckoned, however, on my sagacity and youthful ardour to realise my project before my fiancée was able to return.

“One day, when my mind was indulging itself in all kinds of fancies, I thought it would be quite easy to elude the vigilance of all those who were around my fiancée, and who were opposed to our meeting. When night came on I continued to think of my project, and I resolved to lie down and try to sleep.

“I passed a very disturbed night, waking frequently, and when the day began to break, the servant came to my room to bid me ‘good morning,’ and to ask for the keys of the shop.

“‘How have you passed the night, sir?’ she asked.

“‘Rather badly, Jeanette. I have dreamed continually, and it is impossible for me to give you an idea of all the dangers[170] and precipices which I thought I overcame and crossed; it seems to me that I went over the mountain road which leads to the farm, but it was a very different road. I dreamed that our interview was prevented, I do not know how, and that I had a long walk home again. What can it all mean?’

“‘It is only the result of your wishes and preoccupation in regard to the young lady. She will soon return, and then these follies will disappear.’

“I very soon forgot all about what I have just described, and so did my servant, for neither of us attached any importance to a dream; but, after a short time, a messenger from the farm handed me a letter, in which my fiancée reproached me for my violence, my bad conduct and disobedience in going there in defiance of the commands and wishes of her father.

“‘What? I? No. Never! Tell your mistress that, although I have thought of going to see her, I have never carried out my desires; if I have not done so, it has not been through lack of courage and will on my part, but only because of my desire to please her and not to oppose her wishes.’

“‘But we saw you.’

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“‘Me?’

“‘Yes, sir—you.’

“‘You are telling an untruth. I have not been out. My servant can corroborate that; and, further, I have nothing to lose by telling the truth.’

“‘That may be as you please, but it is true that you spoke to me; you questioned me on the subject of Mademoiselle—desired me to tell her that you were there and wished to speak to her.’

“‘These are illusions on your part; you have been dreaming.’

“‘That is possible; but there were two, three, all the servants, who also saw you. You did not arrive until nearly midnight; you were dressed as you are now, and riding a white horse, which you fastened to the gnarled oak. We could all recognise you by the moonlight, and you were going towards the side door when I stopped you from entering.

“‘Hearing our voices, the dogs began to bark, which caused all the servants to get up. You were recognised by my master and the young lady, who fell on her knees before her father, beseeching him not to fire on you. Without showing any fear,[172] you returned step by step to your horse and went down the mountain again. My master was much annoyed with you, called his confidential servant Marino, ordered him to follow you and not to be afraid, but to fire on you two or three times, as he would be responsible. Marino set out, and, although he walked quickly and tried all he could to catch you up, he could not do so. A curious phenomenon aroused his attention, which was that he always saw you going at the same pace, and he had not the courage to fire his rifle.

“‘You arrived at the entrance to the town about five o’clock in the morning; the moon was setting and the day commencing to break. Before you arrived at the first crossing of the streets you began to run, and turned quickly along the first street in the town; and though Marino ran after you, he lost sight of you at the next crossing.’

“My persecutor, frightened by what he had seen, returned immediately to the farm to inform his master of what had taken place, and which seemed very extraordinary and supernormal.

“For a long time this adventure, of which[173] I was the unconscious hero, made a great stir in the town.”

Colonel de Rochas, a distinguished French savant, has made this question of the externalisation or projection of the double and of the motricity and sensibility of the subject his special and patient study, and has embodied the results of many of his experiments in separate works. Some have also been published in the pages of the Annals of Psychical Science, so that the reader who is particularly interested in the question will have no difficulty in finding material for further consideration and study.

The Société Magnétique de France has also conducted extensive experiments in this field of research, particulars of which are published from time to time in the Journal du Magnétisme. The following theoretical explanation given at the conclusion of the report of a series of these experiments is reprinted from the Annals for July-September 1910:—

“We know that the phantom is the psychical body projected from the physical body. It is that which enjoys or suffers, thinks, wishes, judges, and perceives all[174] sensations. It is constantly animated by extremely rapid vibratory movements which are certainly the same as when it is within the body. This principle being admitted, we understand that, when it animates the body, its vibratory movements are not projected outside, and that it exercises no appreciable action on other organisms in its neighbourhood. But when it is outside the body its movements are easily externalised. Then the phantom and another person, vibrating in unison, represent two stringed instruments which sound at the same time when one only is touched. If I can obtain this transmission at great distances, we can explain this strange and unexpected phenomenon by the theory of wireless telegraphy or telephony.”

The results of the many experiments conducted by and under the auspices of French scientists in particular tend to indicate that in the near future an explanation of the phenomena of vampirism will be forthcoming.

BIBLIOGRAPHY