



Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer. THE

                               VAMPYRE;

                               A Tale. By John William Polidori



                               LONDON

                 PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD, NEELY, AND JONES

                           PATERNOSTER ROW


                                1819

              [Entered at Stationers' Hall, March 27, 1819]

           Gillet, Printer, Crown Court, Fleet Street, London. EXTRACT OF A LETTER

                             FROM GENEVA. ______________

"I breathe freely in the neighbourhood of this lake; the ground upon
which I tread has been subdued from the earliest ages; the principal
objects which immediately strike my eye, bring to my recollection
scenes, in which man acted the hero and was the chief object of
interest. Not to look back to earlier times of battles and sieges,
here is the bust of Rousseau--here is a house with an inscription
denoting that the Genevan philosopher first drew breath under its
roof. A little out of the town is Ferney, the residence of Voltaire;
where that wonderful, though certainly in many respects contemptible,
character, received, like the hermits of old, the visits of pilgrims,
not only from his own nation, but from the farthest boundaries of
Europe. Here too is Bonnet's abode, and, a few steps beyond, the house
of that astonishing woman Madame de Stael: perhaps the first of her
sex, who has really proved its often claimed equality with, the nobler
man. We have before had women who have written interesting novels and
poems, in which their tact at observing drawing-room characters has
availed them; but never since the days of Heloise have those faculties
which are peculiar to man, been developed as the possible inheritance
of woman. Though even here, as in the case of Heloise, our sex have
not been backward in alledging the existence of an Abeilard in the
person of M. Schlegel as the inspirer of her works. But to proceed:
upon the same side of the lake, Gibbon, Bonnivard, Bradshaw, and
others mark, as it were, the stages for our progress; whilst upon the
other side there is one house, built by Diodati, the friend of Milton,
which has contained within its walls, for several months, that poet
whom we have so often read together, and who--if human passions remain
the same, and human feelings, like chords, on being swept by nature's
impulses shall vibrate as before--will be placed by posterity in the
first rank of our English Poets. You must have heard, or the Third
Canto of Childe Harold will have informed you, that Lord Byron resided
many months in this neighbourhood. I went with some friends a few days
ago, after having seen Ferney, to view this mansion. I trod the floors
with the same feelings of awe and respect as we did, together, those
of Shakespeare's dwelling at Stratford. I sat down in a chair of the
saloon, and satisfied myself that I was resting on what he had made
his constant seat. I found a servant there who had lived with him;
she, however, gave me but little information. She pointed out his
bed-chamber upon the same level as the saloon and dining-room, and
informed me that he retired to rest at three, got up at two, and
employed himself a long time over his toilette; that he never went to
sleep without a pair of pistols and a dagger by his side, and that he
never ate animal food. He apparently spent some part of every day upon
the lake in an English boat. There is a balcony from the saloon which
looks upon the lake and the mountain Jura; and I imagine, that it must
have been hence, he contemplated the storm so magnificently described
in the Third Canto; for you have from here a most extensive view of
all the points he has therein depicted. I can fancy him like the
scathed pine, whilst all around was sunk to repose, still waking to
observe, what gave but a weak image of the storms which had desolated
his own breast. The sky is changed!--and such a change; Oh, night! And storm and darkness, ye are wond'rous strong,
  Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
  Of a dark eye in woman! Far along
  From peak to peak, the rattling crags among,
  Leaps the lire thunder! Not from one lone cloud,
  But every mountain now hath found a tongue,
  And Jura answers thro' her misty shroud,
  Back to the joyous Alps who call to her aloud! And this is in the night:--Most glorious night! Thou wer't not sent for slumber! let me be
  A sharer in thy far and fierce delight,--
  A portion of the tempest and of me! How the lit lake shines a phosphoric sea,
  And the big rain comet dancing to the earth! And now again 'tis black,--and now the glee
  Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain mirth,
  As if they did rejoice o'er a young; earthquake's birth,

  Now where the swift Rhine cleaves his way between
  Heights which appear, as lovers who have parted
  In haste, whose mining depths so intervene,
  That they can meet no more, tho' broken hearted;
  Tho' in their souls which thus each other thwarted,
  Love was the very root of the fond rage
  Which blighted their life's bloom, and then departed--
  Itself expired, but leaving; them an age
  Of years all winter--war within themselves to wage. I went down to the little port, if I may use the expression, wherein
his vessel used to lay, and conversed with the cottager, who had the
care of it. You may smile, but I have my pleasure in thus helping my
personification of the individual I admire, by attaining to the
knowledge of those circumstances which were daily around him. I have
made numerous enquiries in the town concerning him, but can learn
nothing. He only went into society there once, when M. Pictet took him
to the house of a lady to spend the evening. They say he is a very
singular man, and seem to think him very uncivil. Amongst other things
they relate, that having invited M. Pictet and Bonstetten to dinner,
he went on the lake to Chillon, leaving a gentleman who travelled with
him to receive them and make his apologies. Another evening, being
invited to the house of Lady D---- H----, he promised to attend,
but upon approaching the windows of her ladyship's villa, and
perceiving the room to be full of company, he set down his friend,
desiring him to plead his excuse, and immediately returned home. This
will serve as a contradiction to the report which you tell me is
current in England, of his having been avoided by his countrymen on
the continent. The case happens to be directly the reverse, as he has
been generally sought by them, though on most occasions, apparently
without success. It is said, indeed, that upon paying his first visit
at Coppet, following the servant who had announced his name, he was
surprised to meet a lady carried out fainting; but before he had been
seated many minutes, the same lady, who had been so affected at the
sound of his name, returned and conversed with him a considerable
time--such is female curiosity and affectation!