The Resuscitation of a Vampire

The Resuscitation of a Vampire From Varney the Vampire

By James Malcolm Rymer © 2002 By www.HorrorMasters.com

It is nearly half an hour to midnight. The sky is still cloudy, but glimpses of the moon can be got as occasionally the clouds slip from before her disc, and then what a glorious flood of silver light spreads itself over the landscape. And a landscape in every rcspect more calculated to look beautiful and romantic under the chaste moon’s ray, than that to which we would now invite attention, certainly could not have been found elsewhere, within many a mile of London. It is Hampstead Heath, that favoured spot where upon a small scale are collected some of the rarest landscape beauties that the most romantic mountainous counties of England can present to the gratified eye of the tourist. Those who are familiar with London and its environs, of course, are wcll acquainted with every nook, glade, tree, and deli in that beautiful heath, where, at all and every time and season, there is much to recommend that semi-wild spot to notice. Indeed, if it were, as it ought to be, divested of its donkey-drivers and laundresses, a more delightful place of residence could scarcely bc found than some of those suburban villas, that are dotted round the margin of this picturesque waste. But it is midnight, nearly. That time is forthcoming, at which popular superstition trembles— that time, at which the voice of ignorance and of cant lowers to whispers, and when the poor of heart and timid of spirit imagine worlds of unknown terrors. On this occasion, though, it will be seen that there would have been some excuse if even the most bold had shrunk back appalled at what was taking place. But we will not anticipate for truly in this instance might we say sufficient for the time are the horrors thereof. If any one had stood on that portion of the high road which leads right over the heath and so on to Hendon or to Highgate, according as the left hand or the right hand route is taken, and after reaching the Castle Tavern, had looked across the wide expanse of heath to the west, they would have seen nothing for a while but the clustering bushes of heath blossom, and the picturesque fir trees, that there are to be beheld in great luxuriance. But, after a time, something of a more noticeable character would have presented itself. At a quarter to twelve there rose up from a tangled mass of brushwood, which had partially concealed a deep cavernous place where sand had been dug, a human form, and there it stood in the calm still hour of night so motionless that it scarcely seemed to possess life, but presently another rose at a short distance. And then there was a third, so that these three strange-looking beings stood like landmarks against the sky, and when the moon shone out from some clouds which had for a short the obscured her rays, they looked strange and tall, and superhuman. One spoke. “’Tis time,” he said, in a deep, hollow voice, that sounded as if it came from the tomb. “Yes, time,” said another. “Time has come,” said the third. (c) 2002 by HorrorMasters.com

Then they moved, and by the gestures they used, it seemed as if an animated discussion was taking place among them, after which they moved along in perfect silence, and in a most stately manner, towards the village of Hampstead. Before reaching it, however, they turned down some narrow shaded walks among garden walls, and the backs of stables, until they emerged close to the old churchyard, which stands on high ground, and which was not then—at least, the western portion of it—overlooked by any buildings. Those villas which now skirt it, are of recent elevation. A dense mass of clouds had now been brought up by a south wind, and had swept over the face of the moon, so that at this juncture, and as twelve o’clock might be expected to strike, the night was darker than it had yet been since sunset. The circumstance was probably considered by the mysterious beings who sought the churchyard as favourable to them, and they got without difficulty within those sacred precincts devoted to the dead. Scarcely had they found the way a dozen feet among the old tomb-stones, when from behind a large square monument, there appeared two more persons; and if the attorney, Mr Miller, had been there, he would probably have thought they bore such a strong resemblance to those whom he had seen in the park, he would have had but little hesitation in declaring that they were the same. These two persons joined the other three, who manifested no surprise at seeing them, and then the whole five stood close to the wall of the church, so that they were quite secure from observation, and one of them spoke. “Brothers,” he said, “you who prey upon human nature by the law of your being, we have work to do tonight—that work which we never leave undone, and which we dare not neglect when we know that it is to do. One of our fraternity lies here.” “Yes,” said the others, with the exception of one, and he spoke passionately. “Why,” he said, “when there were enough, and more than enough, to do the work, summon me?” “Not more than enough, there are but five.” “And why should you not be summoned,” said another, “you are one of us. You ought to do your part with us in setting a brother free from the clay that presses on his breast.” “I was engaged in my vocation. If the moon shine out in all her lustre again, you will see that I am wan and wasted, and have need of—” “Blood,” said one. “Blood, blood, blood,” repeated the others. And then the first speaker said, to him who complained: “You are one whom we are glad to have with us on a service of danger. You are strong and bold, your deeds are known, you have lived long, and are not yet crushed.” “I do not know our brother’s name,” said one of the others with an air of curiosity. “I go by many.” “So do we all. But by what name may we know you best?” “Slieghton, I was named in the reign of the third Edward. But many have known me as Varney, the Vampire!” There was a visible sensation among those wretched beings as these words were uttered, and one was about to say something, when Varney interrupted him. “Come,” he said, “I have been summoned here, and I have come to assist in the exhumation of a brother. It is one of the conditions of our being that we do so. Let the work be proceeded with This text was illegally taken from H M . C O M.

This text was illegally taken from H M . C O M.

This text was illegally taken from H M . C O M.

then, at once, I have no time to spare. Let it be done with. Where lies the vampire? Who was he?” “A man of good repute, Varncy,” said the first speaker. “A smooth, fair-spoken man, a religious man, so far as cant went, a proud, cowardly, haughty, worldly follower of religion. Ha, ha, ha!” “And what made him one of us?” “He dipped his hands in blood. There was a poor boy, a brother’s only child, ’twas left an orphan. He slew the boy, and he is one of us.” “With a weapon.” “Yes, and a sharp one; the weapon of unkindness. The child was young and gentle, and harsh words, blows, and revilngs placed him in his grave, he is in heaven, while the man will be a vampire.” “’Tis well—dig him up.” They each produced from under the dark cloaks they wore, a short double-edged, broad, flatbladed weapon, not unlike the swords worn by the Romans, and he who assumed the office of guide, led the way to a newly-made grave, and diligently, and with amazing rapidity and power, they commenced removing the earth. It was something amazing to see the systematic manner in which they worked, and in ten minutes one of them struck the blade of his weapon upon the lid of a coffin, and said: “It is here.” The lid was then partially raised in the direction of the moon, which, although now hidden, they could see would in a very short time show itself in some gaps of the clouds, that were rapidly approaching at great speed across the heavens. They then desisted from their labour, and stood around the grave in silence for a time, until, as the moon was longer showing her fair face, they began to discourse in whispers. “What shall become of him,” said one, pointing to the grave. “Shall we aid him?” “No,” said Varney, “I have heard that of him which shall not induce me to lift hand or voice in his behalf. Let him fly, shrieking like a frightened ghost where he lists.” “Did you not once know some people named Bannerworth?” “I did. You came to see me, I think, at an inn. They are all dead.” “Hush,” said another, “look, the moon will soon be free from the vapours that sail between it and the green earth. Behold, she shines out fresh once more; there will be life in the coffin soon, and our work will be done.” It was so. The dark clouds passed over the face of the moon, and with a sudden burst of splendour, it shone out again as before. *** A death-like stillness now was over the whole scene, and those who had partially exhumed the body stood as still as statues, waiting the event which they looked forward to as certain to ensue. The clear beauty and intensity of the moonbeams increased each moment, and the whole surrounding landscape was lit up with a perfect flood of soft silvery light. The old church stood out in fine relief, and every tree, and every wild flower, and every blade of grass in the churchyard, could be seen in its finest and most delicate proportions and construction.

The lid of the coffin was wrenched up on one side to about six inches in height, and that side faced the moon, so that some rays, it was quite clearly to be seen, found their way into that sad receptacle for the dead. A quarter of an hour, however, passed away, and nothing happened. “Are you certain he is one of us?” whispered Varney. “Quite, I have known it years past. He had the mark upon him.” “Enough. Behold.” A deep and dreadful groan came from the grave, and yet it could hardly be called a groan; it was more like a howl, and the lid which was partially open, was visibly agitated. “He comes,” whispered one. “Hush,” said another. “hush; our duty will be done when he stands upon the level ground. Hush, let him near nothing, let him know nothing, since we will not aid him. Behold, behold.” They all looked down into the grave, but they betrayed no signs oh emotion, and the sight they saw there was such as one would have supposed would have created emotion in the breast of any one at all capable of feeling. But then we must not reason upon these strange frightful existences as we reason upon human nature such as we usually know it. The coflin lid was each moment more and nrore agitated. The deep frightful groans increased in number and sound, and then the corpse stretched out one ghastly hand from the open crevice and grasped despairingly and frantically at the damp earth that was around. There was still towards one side of the coffin sufficient weight of mould that it would require some strength to turn it off, but as the dead man struggled within his narrow house it kept falling aside in lumps, so that his task of exhumation became each moment an easier one. At length he uttered a strange wailing shriek, and by a great effort succeeded in throwing the coffin lid quite open, and then he sat up, looking so horrible and ghastly in the grave clothes, that even the vampires that were around the grave recoiled a little. “Is it done?” said Varney. “Not yet,” said he who had summoned them to the fearful rite, and so assumed a sort of direction over them, “not yet; we will not assist him, but we may not leave him before telling him who and what he is.” “Do so now.” The corpse stood up in the coffin and the moonlight fell full upon him. “Vampire arise,” said he who had just spoken to Varney. “Vampire arise, and do your work in the world until your doom shall be accomplished. Vampire arise—arise. Pursue your victims in the mansion and in the cottage. Be a terror and a desolation, go you where you may, and if the hand of death strike you down, the cold beams of the moon shall restore you to new life. Vampire arise, arise!” “I come, I come!” shrieked the corpse. In another moment the five vampires who had dug him from the grave were gone. Moaning, shrieking, and groaning he made some further attempts to get out of the deep grave. He clutched at it in vain, the earth crumbled beneath him, and it was only at last by dint of reaching up and dragging in the displaced material that lay in a heap at the sides, so that in a few minnites it formed a mound for him to stand upon in the grave, that he was at length able to get out. Then, although he sighed, and now and then uttered a wailing shriek as he went about the work, he with a strange kind of instinct, began to carefully fill up the grave from which he had but just emerged, nor did he cease from his occupation until he had finished it, and so carefully This text was lifted from another site--warning, copyrights may have been violated.

This text was lifted from another site--warning, copyrights may have been violated.

This text was lifted from another site--warning, copyrights may have been violated.

shaped the mound of mould and turf over it that no one would have thought it had been disturbed. When this work was done a kind of madness seemed to seize him, and he walked to the gate of the graveyard, which opens upon Church Street, and placing his hands upon the sides of his mouth he produced such an appalling shriek that it must have awakened everybody in Hampstcad. Then, turning, he fled like a hunted hare in the other direction, and taking the first turning to the right ran up a lane called Frognal Lane, and which is parallel to the town, for a town Hampstead may be fairly called now, although it was not then. By pursuing this lane, he got upon the outskirts of the heath, and then turning to the right again, for, with a strange pcrtinacity, he always kept, as far as he could, his face towards the light of the moon, he rushed down a deep hollow, where there was a cluster of little cottages, enjoying such repose that one. It was quite clear that the new vampyre had as yet no notion of what he was about, or where he was going, and that he was with mere frantic haste speeding along, from the first impulsc of his frightful nature. The place into which he had now plunged, is called the Vale of Health: now a place of very favourite resort, but then a mere collection of white faced cottages, with a couple of places that might be called villas. A watchman went his nightly rounds in that place. And it so happened that the guardian of the Vale had just roused himself up at this juncture, and made up his mind to make his walk of observation, when he saw the terrific figure of a man attired in grave clothes coming along with dreadful speed towards him, as if to take the Vale of Health by storm. The watchman was so paralysed by fear that he could not find strength enough to spring his rattle, although he made the attempt, and held it out at arm’s length, while his eyes glared with perfect ferocity, and his mouth was wide enough open to nourish the idea, that after all he had a hope of being able to swallow the spectre. But, nothing heeding him, the vampire came wildly on. Fain now would the petrified watchman have got out of the way, but he could not, and in another moment he was dashed down to the earth, and trodden on by the horrible existence that knew not what it did. A cloud came over the moon, and the vampire sunk down, exhausted, by a garden-wall, and there lay as if dead, while the watchman, who had fairly fainted away, lay in a picturesque attitude on iris back, not very far off. Half an hour passed, and a slight mist-like rain began to fall. The vampire slowly rose to his feet, and commenced wringing his hands and moaning, but his former violence of demeanour had passed away. That was but the first flush of new life, and now he seemed to be more fully aware of who and what he was. He shivered as he tottered slowly on, until he came to where the watchman lay, and then he divested that guardian of the Vale of his greatcoat, his hat, and some other portions of his apparel, all of which he put on himself, still slightly moaning as he did so, and ever and anon stopping to make a gesture of despair. When this operation was completed, he slunk off into a narrow path which led on to the heath again, and there he seemed to waver a little, whether he would go towards London, or the country. At length it seemed that he decided upon the former course, and he walked on at a rapid pace right through Hampstead, and down the hill towards London, the lights of which could be seen gleaming in the distance. Now for a break from the story. Where do you think that this came from? Another site, that's where. Sorry if you find this annoying, but you might want to find a site that does the work instead of stealing someone else's work.

Now for a break from the story. Where do you think that this came from? Another site, that's where. Sorry if you find this annoying, but you might want to find a site that does the work instead of stealing someone else's work.

Now for a break from the story. Where do you think that this came from? Another site, that's where. Sorry if you find this annoying, but you might want to find a site that does the work instead of stealing someone else's work.

When the watchman did recover himself, the first thing he did was, to be kind enough to rouse everybody up from their sleep in the Vale of Health, by springing his rattle at a prodigious rate, and by the time he had roused up the whole neighbourhood, he felt almost ready to faint again at the bare recollection of the terrible apparition that had knocked him down. The story in the morning was told all over the place, with many additions to it of course, and it was long afterwards before the inhabitants of the Vale could induce another watchman, for that one gave up the post, to run the risk of such a visitation. And the oddest thing of all was, that the watchman declared that he caught a glance at the countenance, and that it was like that of a Mr Brooks, who had only been buried the day previous, that if he had not known that gentleman to be dead and buried, he should have thought it was he himself gone mad. But there was the grave of Mr Brooks, with its circular mound of earth, all right enough; and then Mr B. was known to have been such a respectable man. He went to the city every day, and used to do so just for the purpose of granting audiences to ladies and gentlemen who might be labouring under any little pecumary difficulties, and accommodating them. Kind Mr Brooks. He only took one hundred pounds per cent. Why should he be a Vampire? Bless him! Too severe, really! There were people who called him a bloodsucker while he lived, and now he was one practically, and yet he had his own pew at church, and subscribed a whole guinea a year to a hospital—he did, although people did say it was in order that be might pack off any of his servants at once to it in case of illness. But then the world is so censorious. And to this day the watchman’s story of the apparition that visited the Vale of Health is still talked of by the old women who make what they call tea for Sunday parties at nine pence a head.