Sanguinary Sophisticates

Allow me to introduce some friends of mine. They are dead, but restless. Their corpses harbour no breath, no beating heart, no spark of life. Contravening the laws of God and nature, they lift themselves from the grave, walking the earth in search of victims. Their flesh is mouldering, they stink of corruption, they are filth itself. Their souls are damned and their bodies are mere tools of the Devil. Under cover of darkness they slink from the necropolis back to the land of the living, there to prey upon some unsuspecting person, possibly someone that they may have loved in life. They tear at flesh, drinking blood, destroying life and spreading misery. What do I call these repugnant beings of pure evil? The Aristocrats!

That doesn't make a lot of sense. I'm talking about vampires, of course. The vampires of legend and folklore were many and various. Some were agents of Satan, others shambling ghouls. None of them were witty conversationalists, snappy dressers, or socially notable. Not the sort of people who got invited to the better parties, and certainly not titled nobility.

So why is it that our most popular conception of the vampire is a well groomed gentleman in tie and tales? Why are they now counts, lords, and marquis?

John Polidori, that's why.

If you like reading good stuff you probably know the story of the "Frankenstein Summer" of 1816. It was the so-called "Year Without a Summer," when northern Europe and the northeastern part of the American continent experienced a remarkably cold, wet, and overcast season. A group of bright young things from England were hanging around in Switzerland. Percy Shelley and his girlfriend Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin (soon to be better known as Mary Shelley) spend time reading ghost stories with Lord Byron and his personal physician, John Polidori. Byron suggests that they all have a hand at writing some spooky stuff. The two famous writers don't come up with much. Mary, of course, writes the beginnings of a really great novel. Polidori writes a short story called "The Vampyre."

"The Vampyre" is not the first vampire story. But it is the first modern vampire story. The bloodsucker, Lord Ruthven, is not a shambling atrocity, skulking in shadows. He is an English lord, dark, brooding, mysterious, and sexy. Women are drawn to him. The more he is seen to withdraw, the more they want him. He is a romantic figure. He is, in short, Byron.

There seems little doubt that Polidori was inspired by his own relationship with the "mad, bad, and dangerous to know" poet. The protagonist Aubrey is Polidori himself, horrified by the excesses of his friend but bound by social convention not to denounce him.

Separating story from writer for a moment, one might want to ask why a vampire would choose to move in such circles. If the passion is simply bloodlust then it could just as easily be slaked in the old fashioned way, preying on the weak and isolated, stalking travellers through the forest, that sort of thing. Why seduce? Why entangle? Why seek to destroy honor and reputation as well as lives?

That's where we see the real genius of Polidori. He knows that the vampire isn't simply an animal. It is an agent of evil. As such it has chosen high society as its forest. It has chosen people who value position, honor, and reputation and uses those things as weapons. The vampire seeks to destroy souls as well as lives, to sow despair as well as blood.

***Spoiler Alert! *** There are some spoilers for "The Vampyre" below***

Ruthven tricks Aubrey into making a vow of silence. Later just a simple word could save the life and (more importantly) the honor of his sister. But he is unable to speak. The first time I read this I thought it silly. What sort of man would value his word above human life. Then the realization struck me. This was another time and another people. The past truly is a different country. These people, these upper class English, were living by rules that were as real to them as the furniture in their homes. Ruthven used that reality. He hid behind and stalked from it. He used the restrictive rules of society to trap his prey. He turned social convention against itself and used it to destroy. Aubrey is driven mad by the internal conflict, no doubt as Ruthven had planned.

*** This is the end of the spoilers. No more spoilers below***

"The Vampyre" was a hit. Its influence on Bram Stoker is obvious. He created his own "gentleman" vampire who stalked polite society. Eventually the blood-soaked idiot made way for the titled, sophisticated, man-about-town. The vampire was forever ennobled, for better or worse, as Polidori imagined him. And for that I'm not sure we should thank him. His Byron-inspired bloodsucker launched a thousand caped and coiffed imitators; most of them crud.

I guess I can't hold that against him. How was he to know that his slightly overwrought, pleasantly creepy little social satire would create a genre that cannot be killed?