1THE VAMPYRE:A TaleBy John William PolidoriLONDONPRINTED FOR SHERWOOD, NEELY, AND JONESPATERNOSTER ROW1819[Entered at Stationers' Hall, March 27, 1819]Gillet, Printer, Crown Court, Fleet Street, London.
2Table of ContentsExtract of a Letter from Geneva.Pg. 3Introduction.Pg. 6The Vampyre.Pg. 9Extract of a Letter, Containing an Account of Lord Byron’s Residence in theIsland of Mitylene.Pg. 21
3EXTRACT OF A LETTERFROM GENEVA."I breathe freely in the neighbourhood of this lake; the ground upon which I tread has beensubdued from the earliest ages; the principal objects which immediately strike my eye, bring tomy recollection scenes, in which man acted the hero and was the chief object of interest. Not tolook back to earlier times of battles and sieges, here is the bust of Rousseau—here is a housewith an inscription denoting that the Genevan philosopher first drew breath under its roof. Alittle out of the town is Ferney, the residence of Voltaire; where that wonderful, though certainlyin 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'sabode, and, a few steps beyond, the house of that astonishing woman Madame de Stael: perhapsthe first of her sex, who has really proved its often claimed equality with, the nobler man. Wehave before had women who have written interesting-novels and poems, in which their tact atobserving drawing-room characters has availed them; but never since the days of Heloise havethose 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 theexistence 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, thestages for our progress; whilst upon the other side there is one house, built by Diodati, the friendof Milton, which has contained within its walls, for several months, that poet whom we have sooften read together, and who—if human passions remain the same, and human feelings, likechords, on being swept by nature's impulses shall vibrate as before—will be placed by posterityin the first rank of our English Poets. You must have heard, or the Third Canto of Childe Haroldwill have informed you, that Lord Byron resided many months in this neighbourhood. I wentwith some friends a few days ago, after having seen Ferney, to view this mansion. I trod thefloors with the same feelings of awe and respect as we did, together, those of Shakespeare'sdwelling at Stratford. I sat down in a chair of the saloon, and satisfied myself that I was restingon 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