A Tale of a Vampire. Richard Francis Burton

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       Henry Kuttner, Bram Stoker, John William Polidori, Richard Francis Burton, Jan Neruda, Thomas Peckett Prest, James Malcolm Rymer, Théophile Gautier, Alice Askew, Claude Askew, Hume Nisbet, E. F. Benson, Dudley Wright, George Sylvester Viereck, Earl Peirce, Lloyd Arthur Eshbach, Victor Rowan, Victoria Glad

      A Tale of a Vampire

      Boxed Set of Vampire Books and Legends

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      2021 OK Publishing

      EAN 4064066308582

      Table of Contents

       The Vampyre (John William Polidori)

       Dracula (Bram Stoker)

       Dracula's Guest (Bram Stoker)

       Clarimonde (Théophile Gautier)

       Carmilla (Sheridan Le Fanu)

       Vikram and the Vampire (Sir Richard Francis Burton)

       The Vampire (Jan Neruda)

       Varney the Vampire, or, the Feast of Blood (Thomas Peckett Prest and James Malcolm Rymer)

       The Vampire of Croglin Grange (Augustus Hare)

       Aylmer Vance and the Vampire (Alice and Claude Askew)

       The Vampire Maid (Hume Nisbet)

       The Room in the Tower (E. F. Benson)

       Mrs.Amworth (E. F. Benson)

       Vampires and Vampirism (Dudley Wright)

       I, the Vampire (Henry Kuttner)

       The House of the Vampire (George Sylvester Viereck)

       Vampires of Venus (Anthony Pelcher)

       Doom of the House of Duryea (Earl Peirce)

       Isle of the Undead (Lloyd Arthur Eshbach)

       Four Wooden Stakes (Victor Rowan)

       Each Man Kills (Victoria Glad)

      The Vampyre

       (John William Polidori)

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

       Extract of a Letter From Geneva.

       Introduction

       The Vampyre

       Extract of a Letter, Containing an Account of Lord Byron's Residence in the Island of Mitylene.

      EXTRACT OF A LETTER

       FROM GENEVA.

       Table of Contents

      "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,