Classic Literature: Varney the Vampire

“Presently the corpse opened his eyes and glared full at them. Oh, such glistening, lead-like orbs, that froze the very current of their blood”
Varney the Vampire, Chapter 143

I must admit that to feature “Varney the Vampire. or, the Feast of Blood”, which was written by James Malcolm Rymer, as a piece of classic literature is, for a couple of reasons, a bit of an oxymoron.

Firstly, the work is not that well known, which makes it difficult to argue its classic status. There are no films directly based on the saga that I am aware of and the name of Varney is seldom borrowed (though there are exceptions that prove that rule). I am sure that many will say they have heard of Varney and its central figure Sir Francis Varney but how many can say they have read it, at least in entirety? For myself I had read extracts certainly and had the complete work in pdf form. But it is such a large tome that there was no way I was going to read it electronically. This article came about after I purchased the critical edition produced by Curt Herr, and yes, I did read the entire saga before writing this.

Secondly it is difficult to call Varney classic literature when by all standards it isn’t really that good in a literary sense. Don’t get me wrong, it was never meant to be. Varney started life as a serial of Penny Dreadfuls and was published as such between 1845 and 1847. In many respects Penny Dreadfuls were the literary equivalent to soap operas, produced weekly and sold for a penny an issue, and one can see within them that awful repetition and meandering that the modern TV phenomenon is also full of. They were also produced by writers often paid by the word (leading to more literary meandering) and rarely, if ever, proof read. Typesetting errors and typographical errors were the norm.

Varney ran for an inordinate length of time, when such a serial could be cancelled at a moment’s notice – if the readership lost interest and thus they were not turning the required profit. As such we find that the text itself is self contradictory in lore, events are forgotten and names become confused. However, the worst sins within Varney are in the early to central chapters and the last third of the saga has much to offer, as Herr himself points out. That is not to say that there isn’t anything worth reading in the first two thirds of the mammoth publication, but that the worst excesses of the Penny Dreadful genre are played out in that section.

However Varney, from a vampire genre sense, is classic literature in that it very much bridges the gap between Polidori’s The Vampyre and Stoker’s Dracula (As an aside we actually have a character called Count Pollidori at one point). We can see the definitive influence Sheridan Le Fanu’s Carmilla had on Stoker and, whilst there is no evidence that Stoker had read any/all of Varney, it is difficult to imagine that Stoker was unaware of the saga.

Indeed Herr points out, in the footnotes to the critical edition, that the turning of Clara Crofton – towards the end of the saga – has many similes with the events surrounding Lucy Westenra in Dracula. The turning itself seems slightly at odds with the lore Rymer introduced (as we shall see) but that is hardly surprising in itself. There is a beautiful description; “and in another moment that white clothing was observed to be in motion. Slowly the dead form that was there rose up, and they all saw the pale and ghastly face. A streak of blood was issuing from the mouth, and the eyes were open.”
Varney the Vampire, Chapter 222

Yet despite the ghastly apparition of the raised Clara, she like Lucy, in death and repose, looks more beautiful than when she was alive. The tales’ similarities might be accidental but it is telling that there are resemblances at all. Further, Rymer occasionally put text of other, invented, Penny Dreadfuls within the text of Varney and at one point we are treated to a vampire one called “The Dead not Dead” – a title reminiscent, as Herr again points out, to Stoker’s The Un-Dead (Dracula’s working title). We should also remember that there is the line in Dracula “and if my death can do her good even now, when she is the dead UnDead, she shall have it freely” (chp 15), and the phrases ‘dead UnDead’ and ‘Dead not Dead’ are similar enough to give pause for thought.

More than that, the nineteenth century literary vampire tended to be rather one-dimensional as a character – a criticism often laid at Stoker. People look to Anne Rice, and her Vampire Chronicles, for the popular inception of a vampire with layers (though perhaps the series Dark Shadows got there first); vampires who felt guilt at their acts and yet were pushed to commit them by their infernal instincts, who were capricious and yet generous and who searched for a meaning to their damned existence. Anne Rice was over 100 years too late, Varney did all that and more; sadist and saint, murderer and saviour, Varney was a complex vampire character unbeknown before and for many years afterwards.

It is pointless, within the confines of this article, to try and relay a plot – though in general it saw Varney involved in many a machination, attempting to acquire either wealth or virgin’s blood – as the saga is so huge. However, what I will do is look to some of the more interesting (if contradictory) lore, genre staples and genre oddities that I noted down as I read through the tome.

The first thing we should ask ourselves is who is Varney? The answer, unfortunately, is that we do not know. Rymer, through the life of the text, changed Varney’s background many times. At one point Varney states that he is 180 years old, at another point he states that he was born, under the name Sleighton, in the reign of Edward the 3rd (1327 – 1377), which would make him more around the 500 mark. This is likely down to faults within the text, rather than any trickery on the part of the character, due to the nature of the Penny Dreadful writing process.

Likewise we do not know how he came to be. We meet a vampire intimated to be his sire and we also hear that vampires come about as a punishment for murder of the innocent. It is suggested that Varney killed his wife or lover, at one point, and his child at another. When we hear that vampirism is a punishment we see a group of vampires (including Varney), summoned, to raise ritually a newly created vampire from the grave. This happens with Clara Crompton, Varney raises her, but she was not guilty of murder – she was merely the victim of a vampire and her birth into the ranks of the undead was part of a sadistic revenge Varney gave out for an act of chivalrous charity (her brothers fished his dead body from the sea). Yet Varney tells Flora Bannerworth, the first vampire casualty detailed in the saga, that a vampire bite will not turn a victim.

It is interesting to note that a red herring is thrown into the early plot that indicates he might have been revived through experimentation with electricity upon his hanged corpse – bringing a modern (post-cinema view of) Frankenstein to mind also. This electrical revival is not the case, and the reviving was coincidental to the experiment (or so I interpreted that section, at least). Later, Rymer likens the effects of the moon (which we shall detail later) to such experimentation when he writes: “Suddenly there was a movement in the form of the dead man −− a spasmodic jerk of the whole muscles of the frame, as if a galvanic battery had been applied to it;”
Varney the Vampire, Chapter 139

The vampire must feed on blood. We hear some folklore that suggests: “those who know about vampires say there are two sorts, one sort always attacks its own relations as were, and nobody else, and the other always selects the most charming young girls.”
Varney the Vampire, Chapter 183
As for Varney, well he is partial to the charming young girls (for that read virginal girls) and has a wont to marry them, often, before feeding. Clara also feeds on young girls and is an early example of female vampire/female victim feeding pattern – predating Carmilla. Whether the vampire can eat and drink normal fare fluctuates; at one point Varney ravenously eats, at another he eats to disguise himself and at yet another he does not partake of mortal food.

The fact that Varney gets these girls to marry him (he has been married several times we hear) is unusual in itself as he is not the dashing hero. He is overly tall, with a ghastly complexion and described often as ugly. Indeed one of the reasons he wants money is as a lure for maidens to marry him as well as to gain a standing in society. The text is a little fluctuating as to whether he has fangs. Sometimes fangs are mentioned, other times teeth. At one point someone mentions a protruding tooth at the front and at another long front teeth are mentioned, both of which brought to mind Nosferatu. At yet another point Varney is described as having tusk like teeth.

Vampires in Varney do not shape change, he is likened occasionally (in his manner of movement) to a wolf – though we should remember that the vampire and the werewolf were interchangeable as concepts at the time – and Annette Lake states that, when attacked by Varney, she dreamt that it was a wolf attacking her before she awoke to see the vampire. Bats are not mentioned – Stoker introduced that bit of lore – and the bat winged demons on the cover of the first issue were artistic and not story integral.

There is a hint of mesmeric eyes but this occurs just once and most of the time Varney’s victims cry out – leading to his detection by others in the household. Like other nineteenth century vampires sunlight is not an issue but, in this, the vampire is not indestructible; he can die by very ordinary means, such as a gunshot or sword strike. More than this, lack of blood (though feeding frequency seems quite moderate) can kill the vampire. However, this is not true death and exposure to moonlight, as with Polidori’s Lord Ruthven, will revive the corpse again:

“No sooner was the whole of the body, the breast, and the face illumined, than there was a particular quiver through that form”
Varney the Vampire, Chapter 104

True vampiric death is difficult to achieve, to say the least. Stopping exposure to moonlight may cause the body to rot after a time and the peasants believe that staking will hold the corpse down and allow it to rot (not necessarily through the heart either, a stake through the stomach is mentioned at one point). Varney, when at his most self-loathing with regards his ‘condition’, attempts suicide. At one point this is attempted by drowning, hoping that the moonbeams will not penetrate the ocean – unfortunately this is when the Cromptons fish his body from the sea. He finally succeeds – at the very end of the saga – by jumping into the fiery mouth of Vesuvius.

I have barely scratched the surface of Varney the Vampire – literally a full book, indeed many volumes, could be written about him, his adventures and his likely impact on the genre. It can be a slog to read but the rewards are there for the genre fan, especially towards the end of the tale. I would recommend Herr’s critical edition as illustrated at the head of this article, which has copious footnotes and critical essays on Varney and the Penny Dreadful form itself.

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