The Vampire Epidemic - An Explanation, 1737.

The Vampire epidemic of the early to mid eighteenth century made news all over Europe, I have taken this report and explanation of this curious outbreak verbatim from the wonderfully named Fog's Weekly Journal - Saturday, 30th April 1737.

We have lately seen published in several of our papers an article of foreign news from Moldavia, relating to some strolling Ghosts which do great mischief in that country, but as this story is more particularly told us in the Mercure Historique & Politique of October last, we shall give our readers a faithful extract of it, tho' it seems to dumbfound all philosophical speculation and human reasoning; however we shall not pass over these marvellous facts without offering our sentiments on the subject. 

This account comes from Gradisch in Slavonia;

We have in these quarters, not many days since, a new scene of Vampirism, which is formally attested by two officers of the Tribunal of Belgrade, who went purposely to the very spot, and by a noted Commander in the Imperial Garrison at Gradisch, who was present at the whole proceeding.

Kisiljevo Cemetary 

Early last September, at a village named Kisilova (Kisiljevo, Serbia), three leagues from Gradisch, a man died aged sixty two years. On the third night after his burial, he appeared to his son, and asked him for something to eat. The young man sat before him what was at hand, when the father  ate, and then vanished.

Next morning the son acquainted his neighbours with what happened. That night the father came not; but the next he returned, and again asked for victuals. It is not known whether his son gave him any, ot no; but on the morrow he was found dead in bed. 

That very day, five or six of the village were suddenly taken ill, and in a short space of time they all died, one after another. The bailiff of that place sent thereupon a particular account of all this to the magistrates of Belgrade, who forthwith dispatched away to this village two of their officers, together with the executioner, to examine into the affair.

One of the Imperial Commanders at Gradisch, and from whom came this intelligence, is repaired likewise thither, in order to be eye witness of a fact whereof he had before heard so much discourse.

They caused the graves of all those who had been buried within six weeks, to be opened, when the said old fellow had been dug up, they found him with his eyes wide open, his countenance fresh and ruddy, with a natural respiration tho' dead and utterly motionless; from whence they absolutely concluded, that he was a notorious Vampire. The executioner then drove a stake thro' his heart, which done, a great fire was kindled, and the carcase reduced to ashes. No token of Vampirism was found on the body of the son, nor on those of any of the others.

God be praised we are not any way inclined to be over credulous. We withal avow, that none of all the physical lights, we can make use of with regard to this fact, do not discover to us any one of its causes. Nevertheless, we are not in a capacity of absolutely disbelieving a fact juridically attested, and confirmed by persons of credit and probity; besides its not being the only one of the kind. 

We shall here copy out what did occur in the year 1732, and which we then inserted in the Glaneur, Number XVIII:

In a certain Canton of Hungary, the Latin name whereof is Oppida Heidonum, beyond the river Tibiscus, vulgarly called the Teysse, (that is to say, between the said river, which waters the fine and happy territory of Turkey, and the Principality of Transylvania) the people, commonly known by the appellation of Heyduques, do firmly believe, that dead bodies of persons, by them stiled Vampires, sucked out the blood of living persons; insomuch that many who undergo it waist away visibly.

Whereas the carcases of those Vampires, like unto leeches do fill up with blood in such abundance, that is seen distilling out from all the natural conduits, and even thro' the very pores. This opinion of theirs has lately been confirmed by divers facts, the truth whereof seems to be beyond all dispute, considering the quality of those eye witnesses by whom they are certified. We shall here relate some of the most considerable.

It is now about five years since a certain Heyduque, of Medreiga, whose name was Arnold Paulo, was accidentally crushed to death under a waggon loaded with hay which fell upon him.

Just thirty days after his decease, four persons of the neighbourhood died suddenly, and in the very same manner with such as, according to that country's tradition, are molested by the Vampire. It was thereupon recollected, that this Arnold Paulo had often been heard to say, that while he lived near Cassova, and on the frontiers of the Turkish Servia, he had been tormented by a Vampire.

They also believe, that they who, in their lifetime, have been passive Vampires, do become active ones after their demise; which is to say, that such as have been sucked, do themselves, in their turn suck others.

But he had found a cure, by eating earth taken out of the Vampire's grave, and anointing himself with some of the blood of his carcase; a precaution which did not, however, prevent his coming abroad after his burial, since, on the fortieth day, he was dug up again, and found with all the marks of a consummate Vampire.

His flesh was of a lively hue; the hair of his head and beard were considerably grown, as were likewise his nails; and he was withal very full of fluid blood, which ran a pace from every part of his body all over the shroud wherein he was wrapped.

The Hadnagy, or Bailiff of the place, in whose presence the examination was made, and who was an expert on matters of Vampirism, did, as is customary, cause to be driven thro' the defunct Arnold Paulo's heart and body a sharp stake, which made him, as they affirm, give a loud cry, as if he had been alive. This done, they cut off his head, and burned that with the corpse of him, the ashes whereof were cast into the river Save.

The like course was taken with the other four bodies of those who died suddenly, tho' fear lest they, in their turn, should be the death of others. However, all this could not prevent, that, towards the close of last year, that is, at the end of five years, these fatal prodigies recommenced, and that several of the same village died miserably.

Within the space of three months, seventeen persons, of both sexes and different ages, are actually dead of Vampirism, some without any sickness, others after two or three days languishment. They report, among others, that one Stanoska (daughter of a certain Heyduque named Jovitza) who went to bed in perfect health, waked about midnight trembling every joint of her, shrieking very frightfully, and saying, that the deceased son of Millo, the Heyduque, wanted little of strangling her while she was asleep.

From that moment she did nothing but languish, and at the end of three days she died. What this girl reported, concerning the said Heyduque's son, immediately gave people to understand, that he was a Vampire. His grave was thereupon opened, and he found to be such; he was buried nine weeks before.

The chiefs of those quarters with several physicians and surgeons, set themselves on examining, how and by what means Vampirism could have revived after the precautions which had, some years ago, been taken. At length, after many diligent researches, they discovered, that the defunct Arnold Paulo had not only sucked the above mentioned four persons, but also divers cattle, whereof the new Vampires had eaten afterwards, and among them this Millo's son.

Upon these tokens and discoveries, it was resolved, that they should dig up all such as had died within a certain distance of time; and, amidst about forty, no fewer than seventeen were found with all the most evident signs of Vampirism, and accordingly, stakes were driven thro' their hearts, their heads cut off, after which they were all consumed by fire, and the ashes thrown into the river.

All these informations and executions were taken and performed juridically, in due form, and attested by several officers quartered thereabouts, by Head Surgeons of Regiments, and by the principal inhabitants of the country. The verbal process of all was, towards the end of last January, remitted to the Imperial Council of War at Vienna, whence a Military Commission had been issued, purposely to examine into the truth of all these matters. 

This was the Declaration made by Barriabar the Hadnagy, with the oldest Heyduques, and signed by Battuer; first Lieutenant of Alexander Wirtemberg's Regiment, by Flickenger Surgeon Major of Furstembusch's Regiment, with three other Surgeons of Companie's, and by Captain Gubsebitz, quartered at Stallath.

I judged proper thus to collect what I find published relating to Vampirism, the better to enable you to pass a judgment on this matter, by the number of facts; and, 'till I can have your sentiments thereupon, I will venture to give you my own.

There are two different ways to destroy all opinions of the existence of those pretended returners from below ground, and to show the impossibility of such effects as these carcases, utterly void of all sensibility, are affirmed to produce. The first is, to explain the prodigies of the Vampirism by physical causes,. The second is, totally to deny the verity of these facts; and this latter method is, undoubtedly, the most certain, and also the wisest.

But, as there are in the world people to whom the authority of a certificate given and signed by men in offices seems a manifest demonstration of reality of the absurdest stories, I will (before I demonstrate how little we ought to build on the formalities of justice in matters which only regard philosophy) for a while admit that a number of persons do really die of a distemper called Vampirism.

I first lay down this principal, that it actually may be, that there are certain dead bodies which, tho' they have been several days inhumed, put forth, from their several conduits, a quantity of fluid blood. I farther allow, that it is early enough for certain people to imagine that they are sucked by Vampires, and also that the fear, wherewith this fancy inspires them, causes in them a revolution sufficiently violent to deprive them even of life itself.

Being all day taken up with the dread of these imaginary strollers from the grave, is it any extraordinary thing that, in their sleep, the ideas of these phantoms should present themselves to their imagination, and cause in them a terror so violent, as to kill some instantly, and some others in a short time after? How many have been known to die on the spot with a sudden fright? And has not excess of joy frequently produced effects equally fatal?

In examining this recital of the death of these pretended martyrs of Vampirism, I discover all the symptoms of a mere epidemical fanaticism, and very plainly perceive, that the impression which fear makes on them is the sole cause of their loss. They report among others, (say they) that one Stanoska, ect.

Whoever has the least notion of philosophy, this sole passage is sufficient to convince him, that Vampirism is nothing but pure imagination. Here is a girl, waking in a fright, who says that such a one buried nine weeks before was about to strangle her, yet was not sucked, because her cries prevented the Vampire from taking his repast. 

Nor was she, according to appearance, ever so served afterwards, since doubtless she was not left alone during any part of the other nights she survived, or at least had the Vampire attempted it, on any such occasion, her crying out again would have alarmed those within call, already apprised of his former visit.

However, on the third day from her fright, she dies; and her dispiritedness, her melancholy and her languishment, most evidently denote how deeply her imagination was wounded.

They who have lived in towns afflicted with the pestilence, know by experience how frequently people have lost their lives purely thro' fear. When a person is seized with the least ailing, he immediately fancies himself stricken with the epidemical disease, and that causes in him such a revolution, that it is in a manner impossible for him to surmount the disorder.

At Paris, a friend of mine assured me, that, being at Marseilles when the plaque raged there, he saw a gentlewoman actually die of the fear she conceived at a slight indisposition of her maid's, which she thought to be the pestilence.

This woman's daughter was also at death's door, on the same account. Two other persons, living in the same house, took likewise to their beds, sent for a physician, and affirmed to him, that they were seized by the plaque. He presently made a visitation of the maid, and all the other patients, and found that not one of them had the least tincture of contagion, and thereupon strove to calm their minds, ordering them to get up and live just as they used to do before; but all his care had no effect upon the Mistress of the house, who died in two days after having frightened herself.

Now consider, in the other passage, touching the death of a passive Vampire, wherein are most evident proofs of the terrible effects of dread and prepossession - on the third night after his burial, he appeared to his son, ect. - Who can be so blind as not to perceive in those words, the most evident marks of fear and prejudice? The first time the imagination of this pretended martyr of Vampirism was attacked, the attack wrought not it's whole effect, but only disposed his mind to be more susceptible of a stronger shock.

Accordingly that did not fail to happen, or to produce the very effect which might therefrom be naturally expected. Take notice that the walking corpse did not return that night which succeeded the day whereon the son had related the vision, or dream, to his neighbours, because, very seemingly, they watched with him, and kept him from giving way to his fear.

I come next to those dead bodies found full of fluid blood, with their hair, beards and nails growing. We may, I believe, abate at least a third of these prodigies, and yet it will be a compliance to abate only so small a portion.

All men of any discernment know how greatly common report, and even several historians, do stretch and enlarge things which seem ever so little supernatural, however, it is no impossibility to explain the causes thereof physically.

Experience teaches us, that there are certain earths proper to receive human bodies in their whole freshness. The reasons thereof have often enough been explained, without my being at the needless trouble of making recitals. At Toulouse, in a church, is a vault, wherein bodies remain so perfectly entire, that there are some of more than two centuries standing which feel actually alive.

They are ranged upright along the wall, and dressed in their usual apparel. But what is the most peculiar, is, that the bodies which are placed on the contrary side of this vault, do, in two or three days, become full of worms.

As to the growth of hair and nails, the very same is observed frequently in dead bodies. While a carcase has any quantity of moisture remaining in it, there can be nothing surprising in the case, if we see, for some time, a visible augmentation in such parts as require not vital spirits.

The fluid blood, flowing thro' the natural conduits, do indeed seem to advance a greater difficulty; yet we may be able to produce some physical reasons for such flowings. It may very well happen, that the heat of the sun, affording a strong degree of warmth to the nitrous and sulphurous parts of the earth, which is proper to keep fleshy bodies from consuming, these parts, being incorporated with the newly interred bodies, occasion their fermenting; and so, uncoagulating and unfixing the curdled or clotted blood, render it liquid, enabling it to distil gradually thro' the canals.

This is the more probable, as it is confirmed by a known experiment. If we boil in a vessel of glass, or earth, one portion of chyle, or of milk, mixed with two portions of oil of tartar, made by decantation, the liquor, from white as it was, will become red; because the salt of the tartar will have entirely rarified and dissolved the most oily part of the milk, and have converted it into a sort of blood.

That which is formed in the corporeal vessel is somewhat redder, but not at all thicker. It is not therefore impossible, that heat causes fermentation which produces near a like effect with this experiment; and this will be found the more feasible when we consider, that the juices of the flesh and of bones bear a great resemblance with chyle, and that fat and marrow are the most oily parts of the chyle.

Now all these parts, being in a ferment, must, by the rules of experience, be changed into a sort of blood; so, besides that which is uncoagulated and unfixed, the pretended Vampires will also void that which is formed from the melting of the fat and marrow.

This is what may be advanced by such as are disposed not absolutely to give the lie to those formal certificates which are given concerning false prodigies. Indeed, it would be more than absurd to imagine that there can be in them any tincture of reality.

For, the bodies of these imaginary Vampires either do quit their graves to come and suck people, or they do not. If they do suck, they ought to be visible. Now they are not seen; for, whenever the complainants call out for assistance, they who run in at the out cry never see any such matter. They therefore do not come abroad.

If the bodies come not out, it must then be the soul, and spirit. Now, can the soul, or spirit, composed of so subtle a matter, can it, I say, gather up and contain, as in a vessel, a quantity of such a liquid as blood is, and convey it into the body?

Really this spirit is sent on a very pleasant errand. But it would make me blush to employ any more time or pains about proving the impossibility of Vampirism.

In The Slaughter Yard - A Forgotten Tale Of Jack The Ripper From 1890.

                              In The Slaughter Yard.

I came across this story a short while ago, I thought it deserved to see the light of day again, it's not often you find a forgotten Ripper tale, so here goes. 

The Adventures Of The Adventurers' Club was written by Arthur Spencer Thurgood, but published anonymously by Gardner and Co, Covent Garden, London in 1890.

Thurgood would sadly shoot himself at the time of publication in a railway carriage at Carshalton, letters were found on his body intimating that an engagement with a professional lady had been broken off.1

The book consists of six stories of high adventure and horror in the streets of Victorian London.

To quote the first chapter "The Adventure Club: What Is It" the book reads;

"We are always hearing of the oddities and peculiarities of London clubs, but perhaps the strangest of them all has been passed by completely unnoticed. The club in question is the Adventurers' Club, which meets in two moderate sized rooms over a shop in Regent Street.

It's nature is perhaps best understood from the motto which it bears, taken from the well known saying of Lord Beaconsfield, 'Adventures are to the adventurous.'

Certainly the records of the club are able to show that its members have not been without their fair share of such doings."

The rules of the club are; "The members meet on one night in every month and dine together. At ten o'clock their meeting breaks up, and each proceeds to wander till dawn through London in search of adventures. Next morning they re-assemble at eleven o'clock, and relate what had befallen them in the course of the night."

So each member goes on their individual adventure, I will fast forward here to the fifth story, the one associated with the Whitechapel murderer, when our hero returns to Regent Street with a very peculiar tale to tell, this chapter is;

In The Slaughter Yard.

'You seem to have had a lively time of it, Jeaffreson; at all events you've got something to show for your night's adventure,' said the President, pointing to the bandaged hand of Mr Horace Jeaffreson.

'Yes,' replied that gentleman,  'I've got something to remember last night by; but I've got something more to show than this bandaged hand that you all stare at so curiously.' And then Horace Jeaffreson rose, drew himself up to his full height of six feet one, and exhibited the left side of his closely buttoned, well fitting frock coat.

'I should like you to notice that,' he said, pointing to a straight, clean cut in the cloth, just on a level with the region of the heart. 'When you've heard what I've got to tell, you'll acknowledge that I had a pretty narrow squeak of it last night; three inches more and it would have been all up with H.J.

I don't regret it a bit, because I believe that I have been the means of ridding the world of a monster. Time alone will tell prove whether my suspicion is correct,' and then Mr Horace Jeaffreson shuddered.

Before I begin the history of my adventures, there are two objects that I must Submit to your inspection; they are in that little parcel that I have laid upon the mantlepiece. Perhaps, as my left hand is disabled, you won't mind undoing the parcel, Mr President.

He laid a long, narrow parcel upon the table, and the President proceeded to open it. The contents consisted of a policeman's truncheon - branded H 1839 - and a long, narrow bladed, double edged knife, having an ebony handle, which was cut in criss-cross ridges. There were stains of blood upon the truncheon, and the knife appeared to have been dipped in a red varnish, of the nature of which there could be no doubt.

'Those are the exhibits,' said Horace Jeaffreson. 'The slit in my coat, my wounded hand, that truncheon and that blood stained knife, and a copy of the morning paper, are all the proofs I have to give you that my adventure of last night was not a hideous nightmare dream, or a wildly improbable yarn.

I must confess that when I placed my forefinger haphazard upon the map last night, and found that fate had given me Whitechapel as my hunting ground, I was considerably disgusted. I left this place bound for the heart of sordid London, the home of vice, of misery, and crime.

Until last night I knew nothing whatever about the East End of London. I've never been bitten with the desire to do even the smallest bit of slumming. I'm sorry enough for the poor, I'd do all I can to help them in the way of subscribing, and that sort of thing, you know; but actual poverty in the flesh I confess to fighting shy of - it's a weakness I own, but, so to say, poverty, crass poverty, offends my nostrils. I'm not a snob, but that's the truth. However, I was in for it; I had got to pass the night in Whitechapel for the sake of what might turn up. A good deal turned up, and a good deal more than I had bargained for.'

'Shall I wait for you, sir?' said the cabman, as he pulled up his hansom at the corner of Osborne Street. 'I'm game to wait, sir, if you won't be long.'

But I dismissed him, 'I shall be here for several hours, my man.' I said.

'You know best, sir,' said the cabman; 'everyone to his taste. You'd better keep yer weather eye open, sir, anyhow; for the side streets ain't over and above safe about here. If I were you, sir, I'd get a copper to show me around.' And then the man thanked me for a liberal fare, and flicking his horse, drove off.

But I had come to Whitechapel to seek adventure, something was bound to turn up, and, as a modern Don Quixote, I determined to take my chance alone; for it wasn't under the protecting wing of a member of the force that I was likely to come across any very stirring novelty.

I wandered about the dirty, badly lighted streets, and I marvelled at the teeming hundreds who thronged the principal thoroughfares. I don't think that ever in my life before I had seen so many hungry, hopeless looking, anxious looking people crowded together. They all seemed to be hurrying either to the public house or from the public house. Nobody offered to molest me.

I'm a fairly big man, and with the exception of having my pockets attempted some half dozen times, I met with no annoyance of any kind. As twelve o'clock struck an extraordinary change came over the neighbourhood; the doors of the public houses were closed, and, save in the larger thoroughfares, the whole miserable quarter seemed to become suddenly silent and deserted.

I had succeeded in losing myself at least half a dozen times; but go where I would, turn where I might, two things struck me - first, the extraordinary number of policemen about; second, the frightful way in which men and women, particularly the homeless wanderers of the night, of both sexes, regarded me. Belated wayfarers would step aside out of my path, and stare at me, as though with dread. Some, more timorous than the rest, would even cross the road at my approach; or, avoiding me, start off at a run or at a shambling trot.

It puzzled me at first. Why on earth should the poverty stricken rabble, who had the misfortune to live in this wretched neighborhood, be afraid of a man, who had a decent coat on his back?

The side streets, as I say, were almost absolutely deserted, save for infrequent policemen who gave me a good night, or gazed at me suspiciously. I was wandering aimlessly along, when my curiosity was suddenly aroused by a powerful, acrid, and peculiar odour. 'Without a doubt,' said I to myself, 'that is the nastiest stench it has ever been my misfortune to smell in the whole course of my life.'

Stench is a Johnsonian word, and very expressive; it's the only word to convey any idea of the nastiness of the mixed odours which assailed my nostrils. 'I will follow my nose,' I said to myself, and I turned down a narrow lane, a short lane, lit by a single gas lamp. 'It gets worse and worse,' I thought, 'and it can't be far off, whatever it is.' It was so bad that I actually had to hold my nose.

At that moment I ran into the arms of a policeman, who appeared to spring suddenly out of the earth. 'I'm sure I beg your pardon,' I said to the man. 'Don't mention it, sir,' replied the policeman briskly, and there was something of a countryman's drawl in the young man's voice. 'Been and lost yourself, sir, I suppose?' he continued.

'Well, not exactly,' I replied. 'The fact is, I wandered down here to see where the smell came from.' 'You've come to the right shop, sir,' said the policeman, with a smile; 'it's a regular devil's kitchen they've got going on down here, it's just a knacker's, sir, that's what it is; and they make glue, and size, and cat's meat, and patent manure. It isn't a trade that most people would hanker for,' said the young policeman with a smile.

'They are in a very large way of business, sir, are Melmoth Brothers; it might be worth your while, sir, to take a look round; you'll find the night watchman inside, sir, and he'd be pleased to show you over the place for a trifle; and it's worth seeing is Melmoth Brothers.'

'I'll take your advice, and have a look at the place,' I answered. 'There seems to be a great number of police about tonight, my man,' I said. 'Well, yes, sir,' replied the constable, 'you see the scare down here gets worse and worse; and the people here are just afraid of their own shadows after midnight; the wonder to my mind is, sir, that we haven't dropped on him long ago.'

Then all at once it dawned on me why it was that men and women had turned aside from me in fear; then I saw why it was that the place seemed a perfect ants' nest of police. The great scare was at its height: the last atrocity had been committed only four days before.

'Why, bless my heart, sir,' cried the young policeman confidentially, 'one might come upon him red handed at any moment. I only wish it was my luck to come across him, sir,' he added. 'Lor bless ye, sir' the young policeman weant on, 'he'll be a pulling it off just once too often, one of these nights.'

'Well I suppose he helps to keep you awake,' I said with a smile, for want of something better to say. 'Keep me awake, sir!' said the man solemnly; 'I don't suppose there's a single constable in the whole of H Division as thinks of aught else. Why, sir, he haunts me like; and do you know, sir' - and the man's voice suddenly dropped to a very low whisper - 'I do think as how I saw him;'  and then he gave a sigh.

'I was standing, sir, just where I was when I popped out on you, a hiding up like; it was more than a month ago, and there was a woman standing crying, leaning on that very post, sir, by Melmoth Brothers' gate, with just a thin ragged shawl, sir, drawn over her head. She was down on her luck, I suppose, you see, sir - and there was a heavyish fog on at the time - when stealing up out of the fog behind where that poor thing was standing, sir, sobbing and crying for all the world just like a hungry child, I saw something brown noiselessly stealing up towards the woman; she had her back to it, sir - and she never moved. 

I could just make out the stooping figure of a man, who came swiftly forward with noiseless footsteps, crouching along in the deep shadow of yonder wall. I rubbed my eyes to see if I was awake or dreaming; and, as the crouching figure rapidly advanced, I saw that it was a man in a long close fitting brown coat of common tweed. He'd got a black billycock jammed down over his eyes, and a red cotton comforter that hid his face; and in his left hand, which held behind him, sir, was something that now and again glittered in the light of that lamp up there.

I loosed my truncheon, sir, and I stood back as quiet as a mouse, for I guessed who I'd got to deal with. Whoever he was, he meant murder, that was clear - murder and worse. All of a sudden, sir, he turned and ran back into the fog, and I after him as hard as I could pelt; and then he disappeared just as if he'd sunk into the earth. I blew my whistle, sir, and reported what I'd seen at the station, and the superintendent - he just reprimanded me, that's what he did.

'1839, I don't believe a word of it,' said he; and he didn't. 'But I did see him, sir, all the same; and if I get the chance,' said the man bitterly, 'I'll put my mark on him.' 'Well policeman,' I said, 'I hope you may, for your sake,' and then I forced a shilling on him.

'I'll go and have a look round at Melmoth Brothers' place,' I said. I gave the young policeman a goodnight, and crossed the road and walked through the open gateway into a large yard, from whence proceeded the atrocious odour that poisoned the neighbourhood.

The place was on a slope, it was paved with small round stones, and was triangular in shape; a high wall at the end by which I had entered formed the base of the triangle, and one side of the narrow lane in which I had left the young policeman. There was a sort of shed or shelter of corrugated iron running along this wall, and under the shed I could indistinctly see the figures of horses and other animals, evidently secured in a long row.

All down one side of the boundary wall of the great yard which sloped from the lane towards the point of the triangle, I saw a number of furnace doors, five and twenty of them at least; they appeared to be let into a long low wall of masonry of the most solid description , and they presented an extraordinary  appearance, giving one the idea of a mysterious ship, burnt well nigh to the water's edge, through whose closed ports the fire, which was slowly consuming her, might be plainly seen. 

The curious similitude to a burning hulk was rendered still more striking by the fact that, above the low wall in which the furnace doors were set, there was a heavy cloud of dense white steam which hung suspended above what seemed like a burning hull of the great phantom ship.

There wasn't a breath of air last night, you know, to stir that reeking cloud of fetid steam; and the young summer moon shone down upon it bright and clear, making the heaped pile of steaming vapour look like great clouds of fleecy whiteness. The place was silent as the grave itself, save for a soft bubbling sound as of some thick fluid that perpetually boiled and simmered, and the occasional movement of one of the tethered animals.

The wall opposite the row of furnaces, which formed the other side of the triangle, had a number of stout iron rings set in it some four feet apart, and looked, for all the world, like some old wharf from which the sea had long ago receded. At the apex of the triangle, where the walls nearly met, were a pair of heavy double doors of wood, which were well nigh covered with stains and slashes of dazzling whiteness; and the ground in front of them was stained white too, as though milk or whitewash, had been spilled, for several feet.

There were great wooden blocks and huge benches standing about in the great paved yard; and I noted a couple of solid gallows like structures, from each of which depended an iron pulley, holding a chain and a great iron hook. I noted, too, as a strange thing, that though the ground was paved with rounded stones - and, as you know, it was a dry night and early summer - yet in many places there were puddles of dark mud, and the ground there was wet and slippery.

But what struck me as the strangest thing of all in this weird and dreadful place, were the numerous horses lying about in every direction, apparently sleeping soundly; but as I stared at them, brilliantly lighted up as they were by the rays of the clear bright moon, I saw that they were not sleeping beasts at all - that they were not old and worn out animals calmly sleeping in happy ignorance of the fate that waited them on the morrow - but by their strange stiffened and gruesome attitudes, I perceived that the creatures were already dead.

I am no longer a child, I have no illusions, and I'm not easily frightened; but I felt a terrible sense of oppression come over me in this dreadful place. I began to feel as a little one feels when he is thrust, for the first time in his life, into a dark room by a thoughtless nurse.

But I had come out of curiosity to see the place; I had expressed my intention of doing so to Constable 1839 of the H Division; so I made up my mind to go through with it. I would see what there was to be seen, I would learn something about the mysterious trade of Melmoth Brothers; and as a preliminary I proceeded to light my briar root, so as, if possible, to get rid to some extent of the numerous diabolical smells of the place by the fragrant odour of Murray's Mixture.

And then, when I had lighted my pipe, I was startled by a hoarse voice which suddenly croaked out - 'Make yourself at home, guv'nor; don't you stand on no sort o' ceremony, for you look a gentleman, a chap what always has the price of a pint in his pocket, and wouldn't grudge the loan of a bit of baccy to a pore old chap as is down on his luck.'

I turned to the place from whence the voice proceeded. It was a strange looking creature that had addressed me. He was an old man with a pointed grey beard, who sat upon a bench of massive timber covered with dreadful stains. The bright moon lighted up his face, and I could see his features as clearly as though I saw them in the light of day.

He was clad in a long linen jerkin of coarse stuff, reaching nearly to his heels; but it's colour was no longer white - the garment was red, reddened by awful smears and splashes from head to foot. The figure wore a pair of heavy jackboots, with wooden soles, nigh upon an inch thick, to which the uppers were riveted with nails of copper; those great boots of his made me sick to look at them.

But the strangest thing of all in the dreadful costume of the grim figure was the headdress, which was a close fitting wig of knitted grey wool; very similar, in appearance at all events, to the undress wig worn by the Lord High Chancellor of England - that wig, that once sacred wig, which Mr George Grossmith has taught us to look upon with that familiarity which breeds contempt. The wig was tied beneath the pointed beard by a string. I noted that round the figure's waist was a leather strap, from which hung a sort of black pouch; from the top of this projected, so as to be ready to his hand, the hafts of several knives of divers sorts and sizes.

The face was lean, haggard, and wrinkled; fierce ferrety eyes sparkled beneath long shaggy grey eyebrows; and the toothless jaws of the old man and his pointed grey beard seemed to wag convulsively as in suppressed amusement.

And then Macaulay's lines ran through my mind --

                                     'To the mouth of some dark lair,

                          Where growling low, a fierce old bear

                          Lies amidst bones and blood.'

'Haw haw! guv'nor,' he said, 'you might think as I was one o' these murderers. I ain't the kind of cove as a young woman would care to meet of a summer night, nor any sort of night for the matter of that, am I? Haw haw! But the houses is closed, guv'nor, worse luck; and I'm dreadful dry.'

'You talk as if you'd been drinking, my man,' I said. 'That's where you're wrong, guv'nor. Why, bless me if I've touched a drop of drink for six mortal days; but tomorrow's pay day, and tomorrow night, guv'nor - tomorrow night I'll make up for it. And so you've come to look round, eh? You're the fust swell as I ever seed in this here blooming yard as had the pluck.'

And then I began to question him about the details of the hideous business of Melmoth Brothers.

'They brings 'em in, guv'nor, mostly irregular,' said the old man; 'they bring 'em in dead, and chucks 'em down anywhere, just as you see; and they brings 'em in alive, and we ties 'em up and feeds 'em proper, and gives 'em water, according to the Act; and then we just turns 'em into size and glue, or various special lines, or cat's meat, or patent manure, or superphosphate, as the case may be.

We boils 'em down within twenty four hours. Haw haw!' cried the dreadful old man in almost fiendish glee. 'There ain't much left of 'em when we've done with 'em, except the smell. Haw haw! Why, bless ye, there's nigh on half a dozen cab ranks a simmering in them there boilers,' and he pointed to the furnace fires.

And then the old man led me past the great row of furnace doors, and down the yard to the very end; and then we reached the two low wooden gates which stood at the lower end of the sloping yard. He pushed back one of the splashed and whitened doors with a great iron fork, and propped it open; then he flung open the door of the end furnace, which threw a lurid light into the low vaulted brickwork chamber within. I saw the floor of the chamber consisted of a vast leaden cistern, and that some fluid, on whose surface was a thick white scum, filled it, and gave forth a strangely acrid and, at the same time, pungent odour.

'This 'ere,' said the old man, 'is where we make the superphosphate; there's several tons of the strongest vitriol in this here place; we filled up fresh today, guv'nor. If I wos to shove you into that there vat, you'd just melt up for all the world like a lump of sugar in a glass of hot toddy; and you'd come out superphosphate, guv'nor, when they drors the vat. 

Haw haw! Seein's believin', they say; just look here. This here barrer's full of fresh horses' bones; they've been biled nigh on two days. They're bones, you see, real bones, without a bit of flesh on 'em. You just stand back, guv'nor, lest you get splashed and spiles yer clothes. Haw haw!'

I did as I was bid. And then, with another diabolical laugh, as the fluid in the cistern of the great arched chamber hissed and bubbled. 'They was bones; they're superphosphate by this time. There ain't no more to show ye, guv'nor,' said the old man with a leer, as he stretched out his hand.

I placed a half crown in it. 'I knowed ye was a gentleman,' he said. 'It's a hot night, guv'nor, and I'm dreadful droughty; but I do know where a drink's to be had at any hour, when you've got the ready, and I'll be off to get one.'

'You've forgotten to shut the furnace door, my man,' I said. 'Thank ye, guv'nor, but I did it a purpose; the boiler above it's to be drored tomorrow.'

'Aren't you afraid that if you leave the place something may be stolen?'

'Lor, guv'nor,' said the old man with a laugh, 'you're the fust as has showed his nose inside of Melmoth Brothers' premises after dark, except the chaps as works here. Haw haw! they dursn't, guv'nor, come into this place; they calls it the Devil's Cookshop hereabouts,' and taking the iron fork up, the whitened wooden door swung back into its place, and hid the mass of seething vitriol from my view.

Then, without a word, the old man in his heavy wooden soled boots clattered out of the place, leaving me alone upon the premises of Melmoth Brothers.

For several minutes I stood and gazed around me upon the strange weird scene of horror, when suddenly I heard a sound in the lane without, a sound as of a half stifled shriek of agony. I hurried out into the lane at once. I looked up and down it, and fancied that I saw a dark brown shadow suddenly disappear within an archway. I walked hurriedly towards the archway. There was nothing.

And now I heard a low voice cry in choking accents, 'Help!' Then there was a groan. At that instant I stumbled over something which lay half in half out of the entrance to a court. It was the body of a man. I stooped over him - it was the young policeman. I recognised his face instantly.

'I'm glad you've come, sir,' said the poor fellow, in failing accents. 'He's the hat on me, sir. He stabbed me from behind, and I'm choking, sir. But I saw him plain this time; it was him, sir, the man with the brown tweed coat and the red comforter. Don't you move, sir,' said the dying man, in a still lower whisper; I see him, sir; I see him now, stooping and peeping round the archway. If you move, sir, he'll twig you, and he'll slope. 'Oh God!' sobbed the poor young constable, and he gave a shudder. He was dead.

Still leaning over the body of the dead man, I tried to collect my thoughts, for, my friends, I don't mind confessing to you, for the first time in my life, since I was a child, I was really afraid. An awful deadly fear - a fear of I knew not what - had come upon me. I trembled in every limb, my hair grew wet with sweat, and I could hear - yes, I could hear - the actual beating of my own heart, as though it were a sledge hammer.

I was alone - alone and unarmed, two hours after midnight, in this dreadful place, with - well, I had no doubt with whom.

No, not unarmed. I placed my hand upon the truncheon case of the dead man. I gripped the truncheon which is now lying upon the table, and in an instant my courage came back to me. Then still stooping over the body of the murdered man, I slowly - very slowly - turned my head.

There was the man, the murderer, the wretch who had been so accurately described to me, the crouching figure in the brown tweed coat, with the red cotton comforter loosely wound round his neck. In his left hand there was something long and bright and keen, that glittered in the soft moonlight of the silent summer night.

And I saw his face, his dreadful face, the face that will haunt me to my dying day. It wasn't a bit like the descriptions. Mr Stewart Cumberland's vision of 'The Man' differed in every possible particular from the being whom I watched from under the dark shadow of the entry of the court, as he stood glaring at me in the moonlight, like a hungry tiger prepared to spring.

The man had long, crisp looking locks of tangled hair, which hung on either side of his face. There was no difficulty in studying him; the features were clearly, even brilliantly illuminated, both by the bright moonlight and by the one street lamp, which chanced above his head; even the humidity of his fierce black eyes and of his cruel teeth was plainly apparent; there wasn't a single detail of the dreadful face that escaped me.

I'm not going to describe it, it was too awful, and words would fail me. I'll tell you why I'll not describe it in a moment.

Have you ever seen a horse with a very tight bearing rein? Of course you have. Well, just as the horse throws his head about in uneasy torture, and champing his bit flings forth great flecks of foam, so did the man I was watching - watching with the hunters eye, watching as a wild and noxious beast that I was hoping anon to slay - so did his jaws, I say, champ and gnash and mumble savagely and throw forth great flecks of white froth.

The creature literally foamed at the mouth, for this dreadful thirst for blood was evidently, as yet, unsatiated. The eyes were those of a madman, or of a hunted beast driven to bay. I have no doubt, no shadow of a doubt, in my own mind, that he - the man in the brown coat - was a savage maniac, a person wholly irresponsible for his actions.

And now I'll tell you why I'm not going to describe that dreadful face of his, because, as I have told you, words would fail me. Give free rein to your fancy, let your imagination loose, and they will fail to convey to your mind one tittle of the loathsome horror of those features. The face was scarred in every direction - the mouth------

'Bah!" I need say no more, the man was a leper. I have been in the South Seas, and I know - I know - I know what a leper is like.

But I hadn't much time for meditation. I was alone with the dead man and his murderer; as likely as not, if the man in the brown coat should escape me, I might be accused of the crime; the very fact of my being possessed of the dead man's truncheon would be looked on as a damning proof.

Gripping the truncheon I rushed out upon the living horror. I would have shouted for assistance, but, why I cannot tell, my voice died away as to a whisper within my breast. It wasn't fear, for I rushed upon him fully determined to either take or slay the dreadful thing that wore the ghastly semblance of a man. I rushed upon him, I say, and struck furiously at him with the heavy staff, But he eluded me.

Noiselessly and swiftly, without even breaking the silence of the night, just as a snake slinks into its hole, the creature dived suddenly beneath my arm, and with an activity that astounded me, passed as though he were without substance (for I heard no sound of footfalls) through the great open gates which formed the entry to the premises of Melmoth Brothers.

'As he passed under my outstretched arm he must have stabbed through my thin overcoat, and as you see,' said Horace Jeaffreson, pointing to the cut in his frock coat, 'an inch or two more, and H.J. wouldn't have been among you to eat his breakfast and spin his yarn. The slash in the overcoat I wore last night, my friends, has a trace of blood stains on it - but it was not my blood.'

'Now,' thought I, 'I've got him;' his very flight filled me with determination, and I resolved to take him alive if possible, for I felt that he was delivered into my hand, and I was determined that he should not escape me; rather than that, I would knock him on the head with as little compunction as I would kill a mad dog.

As these thoughts passed through my mind, I sped after the murderer of the unfortunate policeman. I gained upon him rapidly, I was within three yards of him, when he reached the middle of the great knackers' yard; and then he attempted to dodge me round a sort of huge chopping block which stood there.

'If you don't surrender, by God I'll kill you,' I shouted.

He never answered me, he only mowed and gibbered as he fled, threatening me at the same time with the knife which he held in his hand.

I vaulted the block, and flung myself upon him; and I struck at him savagely and caught him across the forehead with the truncheon; and suddenly uttering a sort of cry as of an animal in pain, he stabbed me through the hand and turned and fled once more, I after him.

At the moment I didn't even know that I had been stabbed. I gained upon him, but he reached the bottom of the yard, and turned in front of the low whitened doors and stopped and stood at bay - crouching, knife in hand, in the strong light thrown out by the open furnace door, as though about to spring.

Blood was streaming over his face from the wound I had given him upon his forehead, and it half blinded him; and ever and anon he tried to clear his eyes of it with the cuff of his right hand. His face and figure glowed red and unearthly in the firelight.

I wasn't afraid of him now; I advanced on him.

Suddenly he sprang forward. I stepped back and hit him over the knuckles of his raised left hand, in which glittered the knife you see on the table. I struck with all my might, and the knife fell from his nerveless grasp.

He rushed back with wonderful agility. The white and rotting doors rolled open on their hinges. I saw him fall backwards with a splash into the mass of froth now coloured by the firelight with a pinky glow.

He disappeared.

And then, horror of horrors, I saw the dreadful form rise once more, and cling for an instant to the low edge of the great leaden tank, and make its one last struggle for existence; and then it sank beneath the fuming waves, never to rise again.

That's all I have to tell. I picked up the knife and secured it, with the truncheon, about my person, as best I could.

I'm glad that I avenged the death of the poor fellow whom I only knew as 1839 H. I shall be happier still if, as I believe, through my humble instrumentality, the awful outrages at the East End of London have ended.

I got to my chambers in the Albany by three in the morning; then I sent for the nearest doctor to dress my hand. It's not a serious cut, but I had bled like a pig.

I bought the morning paper on my way here; it gives the details of the murder of Constable 1839 of the H Division by an unknown hand; and it mentions that the murderer appears to have possessed himself of the truncheon of his victim. You see he was stabbed through the great vessels of the lungs.

I have no further remarks to make, except that I don't believe we shall hear any more of Jack the Ripper. Of one thing I am perfectly certain, that I shall not visit Whitechapel again in a hurry.

I'd rather, if you don't mind, that you didn't repeat this story of mine for the next six months.

Note by the editor - As yet since Mr Horace Jeaffreson's strange nocturnal adventure, no further 'outrages' have taken place in Whitechapel. Is Mr Jeaffreson's theory correct? Time alone will prove this.

1. Many thanks to Stewart Evans for furnishing me with the information concerning the author Arthur Spencer Thurgood.

The Power Of The Cross - The First Touring "Dracula" Play.

Dracula has been a significant cultural fixture throughout the 20th century, and is still going strong. The novel was published on the 26th May 1897, the week before publication a "copyright play" was performed at the Lyceum to shore up the dramatic adaptation rights. Anyone wanting to put the Count on stage would have to tread very carefully indeed, eight years later a play would push those boundaries.

The Power Of The Cross was a play written by George A. De Gray, the play had it's copyright performance at the Royalty Theatre, Chester in May 1905. Towards the end of the year it was taken up by Lingford Carson's Tours of Liverpool, and received rave reviews and full houses all over the UK from December 1905 and well into 1909.

The first performance was at the Queen's Theatre, Keighley, on Saturday the 23rd of December 1905. "The Era" of 6th January 1906 said;

The Era - Saturday 25 November 1899

 "Amongst the dramas produced by Mr Lingford Carson at this theatre, perhaps none has met with so cordial a reception as The Power Of The Cross, and it is pleasing to note a record week's business had been done. The author has composed an original play abounding in startling incidents, and interspersed with humour and abundant pathos."

"The principal character is Baron Woulfe Curzola. To all appearances, he is an ordinary human being, and his entrance in the first act creates no unusual curiosity. Later, however, he assumes satanic shape as the Vampire. He emerges through the trunk of an oak tree, heralded by thunder and lightning. His exits are of a startling nature, and an intense weirdness is added by the hoot of an owl."

Lingford Carson

"The only antidote for Curzola's deadly work being the power of the cross. The heroine is the possessor of that cross, which is a gift from her lover, and visits the Baron's tomb in Dalmatia. Three stabs into the coffin of the last of the Curzolas ends the fearful work of the vampire."

There are several nods to the famous vampire tale by Bram Stoker, the plot is slightly changed, all the names of the characters are different and even the vampires place of origin was changed, instead of Austro-Hungarian Transylvania we are taken instead to Austro-Hungarian Dalmatia. The cross still holds power over the undead, hence the name of the play, he uses hypnotic powers, he is chased to his native land by a group of vampire hunters, and he is killed with a knife plunged through his heart, however, there is no mention of it being a bowie knife and the kukri is omitted.

In 1908 the play headed south to New Zealand and Australia, where it enjoyed a great deal of success playing in theatres all over those countries.

Curzola is not repulsive!

The Newcastle Morning Herald and Miners Advocate, Wednesday 8th January 1908 stated;

 "At the Victorian Theatre. The Power Of The Cross is an intensely dramatic creation, which last night held the audience until the curtain descended. It is a mystic story of a superhuman satanic influence, into which tradition has been interwoven. Curzola, the last of his race of human vampires, which lives in a fortress in Hungary, is the centre around which a clever act of incidents has been woven, resulting in a play of unusual merit."

"Curzola conveys the impression of an evil hypnotic power, more by his remarkable gestures and make up than by the text....Curzola introduces a disease baffling to science into English homes, and which, as with the direct power the creature uses, can only be assailed by the power of the cross."

 The Bulletin. Vol. 29 No. 1467, 26th March 1908.

"Burglar's Alley, Whitechapel. (Act III).

Leslie, a refugee from gaol, in the lodgings of Mr and Mrs O'Dowd, his humble though devoted friends. While there, the brilliant young fellow unearths a medical treatise 'translated from the German 100 years ago by the famous Dr Johnson,' which tells the way to out a vampire when you meet him. 'Joy, oh joy!' In the midst of congratulatory hand wringing the lights would die away, a long drawn wail sounds, and Woulfe materialises.

He throws Dr Johnson's invaluable work into the fire. Fortunately O'Dowd plunges forward and salvages the volume. Dreadful things now occur. The vampire is annoyed. He towers, with arms held high and hands drooping, and makes sharp prodding movements in Leslie's direction.

The young physician wilts. He subsides behind a screen. When he emerges his hair is white. Later, Woulfe invades Margaret's boudoir, and towers and prods at her as well; also he vamps her innocent child with fatal results. 

England wearies him, he has now outstayed his welcome, and he returns to his native land. This he does and appears crouching amid the ruins of his ancestral abbey. Hardly had the vampire hunters arrived on the scene than he begins his old tricks. So Leslie's young lady holds up a gold cross, and Rita steps forward with her knife and stabs Woulfe so that he dies. And the popular verdict is that it serves him right."

The play finally ended it's prolonged Australian tour in 1912, in the advertising any pretence to this not being loosely based on Bram Stoker's Dracula went out of the window!

The Age - Saturday 3rd February 1912.

“A long felt want.

Saturday Next, 10th February.

The Mystic Sensational Play.

THE POWER OF THE CROSS.

A Dramatisation by George de Gray of Bram Stoker’s Notable Novel, Dracula, in Four Acts and Twelve Scenes.

MANAGERIAL NOTE - The Melbourne Dramatic Company have taken a long leave of Wirth’s New Hippodrome, which has been converted into a modern theatre, cool and up to date in every particular. In this commodious building - its seating capacity is 3500 - a rapid succession of stirring dramas will be presented, at frequent intervals, at prices to meet the times.

The charges of admission will be from 6d to 2s. There will be nothing cheap about the productions. All who can admire good scenic effects and sound acting will find their wishes amply provided for.

The Opening Piece,

THE POWER OF THE CROSS.

Is a play along approved modern lines. The Author tells a story which is worthwhile. There is a powerful love interest, and sensation after sensation follow one another in logical sequences. In real life tragedy is never far from comedy. Laughter and tears are our common portion, and the playwright has, in this respect, boldly held the mirror up to nature.

Full particulars will be announced from day to day in the metropolitan press.”

The New Hippodrome was part of the Wirth’s Park Circus complex in Melbourne, by 1912 Wirth’s had expanded their business to Sydney, while this was going on they hired out the New Hippodrome in Melbourne for stage performances. Wirth’s Park would become a hospital during the Great War and would finally burn down in 1953.

Wirth's Park, the Hippodrome is top right.

Reviews.

The Herald - Monday, 12th February 1912.

“New Hippodrome

Power Of The Cross.

The Melbourne Dramatic Company’s experiment of providing dramatic entertainment at cheap rates was begun most auspiciously at the New Hippodrome Theatre, Wirth’s Park, on Saturday night.

The Power Of The Cross, a dramatisation by Mr George De Gray of Bram Stoker’s novel ‘Dracula’, was selected as the opening piece, and it was full of sensation, interspersed with some clever comedy. The plot mostly revolves around the doings of Baron Woulfe Curzola, a ‘human vampire,’ who performs all the blood sucking feats popularly attributed to the vampire. The only way in which his evil machinations can be defeated is by exhibiting a cross to him, and from this circumstance the name of the play was derived.

The part of Baron Curzola was taken in a masterly manner by Mr W. Dalgleish, while Mr Robert Inman presented a good characterisation of the weak Gerald Fairfax. As the adventuress prepared to do anything to attain her ends, Miss Ada Guildford could not have been better placed, while Miss Maud Appleton played the sweet ill used heroine with success.

Robert E. Inman

The company was exceedingly well balanced on the whole. In addition to those already mentioned, Misses Marle Greville and Margaret Linden, and Messers W. Vincent, G. Edwards, F. Patey and others in minor parts did all that was required of them, while the comedy element provided by Mr Frank Crossley and Miss Lillian Wiseman was keenly appreciated by the audience.

The Power Of The Cross will be shown for the next fortnight, and will then be replaced by  'The Heart Of A Hero’, for the next piece the company will be further strengthened.”

The Argus - Monday 12th February 1912.

The auditorium is semi circular in form, and covers the entire floor space. Its centre is occupied by stalls and reserved seats, the pit in tiers surrounding them on every side. The stage is a very large one, and the lighting is perfect.

The piece selected for the opening performance is an adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, under its modern title the Power Of The Cross, it results in a mystic, exciting melodrama that required just the forceful presentation it received at the hands of the Melbourne Dramatic Company.

The story hinges on a cheque forged by Gerald Fairfax; the murder of a postman who is bringing it to Gerald’s employer by the arch villain of the play; and the conviction, escape from prison, and pursuit of Dr Leslie Fairfax, who wrongly suffers for the forgery and murder.

Mysticism is introduced by a figure, half man, half devil, Baron Woulfe Curzola, who haunts the characters through out and conducts himself in the manner vampires are credited with. In the end the dead past is allowed to bury its dead, all the wrongs that can be are righted, and Curzola meets his well merited doom amidst the ruins of his own abbey, situated in picturesque Dalmatia.

The cast includes many members who are favourably known to Melbourne audiences. Mr Robert Inman play the role of the weak and erring Gerald Fairfax, a man who sins impulsively and seeks oblivion in intemperance. As the adventuress out after wealth, and using any vile methods or accomplice in obtaining it, Miss Ada Guildford is well suited, and in her way discloses herself a fiend quite the equal of Curzola.

Her overreaching husband, who falls easy prey to the confidence tricks of the comic people, is keenly appreciated by Mr Walter Vincent, an actor who makes his points by a quiet, polished, incisive manner and crisp delivery that always tell.

The Power Of The Cross, which has been seen in Melbourne before, is well staged and dressed, a realistic fire scene, in the second act, and the rescue of those in peril drawing rounds of applause. The company, which will be still further augmented by the inclusion of two or three well known actors, will next produce the modern play, The Heart Of A Hero.”

From an advertisement dated 12th February “Thousands have read Bram Stoker’s famous story Dracula…..Hundreds of thousands will come and see the dramatisation entitled ‘The Power Of The Cross.”

Melbourne Punch - Thursday 15th February 1912.

“The play is cast upon sterling and frankly melodramatic lines, and if these are in the main conventional, there is a sufficiency of sensation and excitement in the drama to keep the audience attentive and excited.

Interwoven with the time honoured and ever enduring contest between Virtue and Vice (both with capitals) are some of the mysticism of ‘Faust’ and the blood curdling  attributes of ‘The Face At The Window.’

The drama is founded on Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula,’ and the most important personage in the play is Baron Woulfe Curzola, a cheerful vampire king, who goes about the world literally sucking the blood of all and sundry. He sucks the blood from their veins, and is thus a trifle more gruesome in his methods than his descendants, the mining and other company promoters.

One thing, however, in common with other evil things he cannot stand, and that is the power of the cross. That sends him to grass in each round for his ten seconds, and finally knocks him out altogether.

There are a number of sensational situations in the play, and all are well managed, notably a big fire scene. The acting, as might have been anticipated, is good. It is intended as soon as possible to furnish the patrons with a new and agreeable entr’acte lounge in the shape of a garden in the park, in which, between the acts, the audience so inclined may enjoy fresh air, cool breezes and refreshments.”

Table Talk - Thursday 15th February 1912.

“A notable addition to Melbourne theatrical houses was made on Saturday evening, when Wirths’ transformed Hippodrome was opened as a theatre for melodrama. The play chosen for the opening night, ‘The Power Of The Cross’, is an adaptation of Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’, which in the original is so sensational and creepy, characteristics which it has certainly not lost in the process of dramatisation by Mr George De Gray.

The sensations came thick and fast, among them being murders, forgery, a big realistic fire scene, and the hunting down of the mysterious ghoulish vampire king. The plot moves from England to Dalmatia, which gives scope for picturesque settings.

The character around which the action revolves is the vampire, just as it does around Mephistopheles in ‘Faust,’ indeed, he recalls Mephisto in being only susceptible to the influence of the cross, but he is far more ghoulish in his actions, attacking those he wants to overcome by attacking literally with tooth and nail.

Mr Walter Dalgleish in this role, Baron Woulfe Curzola, came out with flying colours. He acted with dash and vigour, and was such a convincing villain as to be excreted by the audience. Miss Ada Guildford, as his partner in crime and villainy backed him up in the most whole hearted way. These two were particularly dramatic and forceful in their actions.

Miss Maud Appleton, as the heroine, Margaret Seaton, won much favour from the audience, as she endured all her tribulations sweetly and uncomplainingly. Mr Robert Inman, as the weak Gerald Fairfax, whose troubles drive him to intemperance, is the hero.”

Melbourne Punch - Thursday 15th February 1912.

“The Melbourne Dramatic Company, under the joint management of Len Davis and our beaming acquaintance, Michael Joseph, has started a long season of melodrama at Wirths’ Hippodrome, and at present is filling the waste spaces in the papers with extraordinary news of its operations.

The first play submitted to notice was ‘The Power Of The Cross,’ in which, if one remembers rightly , a super demon named Woulfe Curzola has a habit of moaning thrice in a greenish limelight before thirstily sucking his victim’s blud (sic).

Woulfe is a patient, if omniscient monster, and the management is to be congratulated for unchaining him nightly for prices of a fearfully popular character. Fees ranging from 2s to 6d a head are all that are painlessly extracted for the pleasure of observing the awful Woulfe, and considering that almost any sum might be demanded under the circumstances, the moderation of the charges looks like sheer philanthropy.”

From an advertisement dated the 15th February;

“THE POWER OF THE CROSS, comedy, sensation and pathos.

Resume Of The Scenes And Incidents:-

The Lawn, Sunnyside, Kingstone-On-Thames, Curzola’s Kiss, The Downward Path, Burglar’s Alley (Whitechapel), A Terrible Discovery, The Ruins - The Abbey, The Last Of The Curzolas.

The Maitland Daily Mercury - Monday 19th February 1912.

“Sensational Stage Incident.

Actor Stabbed.

Considerable sensation was caused towards the close of the performance of ‘The Power Of The Cross’ at the New Hippodrome, Wirth’s Park, Melbourne, on Saturday evening, by an accident which might have had very serious consequences.

The play works to a climax, in which the adventuress, who is Miss Ada Guildford, in a frenzy of remorse rushes upon the villain (Mr Walter Dalgleish), and stabs him to the heart.

On Saturday evening as Miss Guildford sprang with a dagger in her upraised hand, Mr Dalgleish tripped, and the blade, instead of being cunningly buried in the clothes of the stage victim, struck him above the left eye. Mr Dalgleish, who was visibly affected, exclaimed with more than ordinary feeling, ‘Good heavens, woman, you have stabbed me,’  and the curtain was dropped as he staggered off the stage.

Dr Davis, who happened to be in the audience, was called in attendance. He found that the blade had glanced off the bone. Had it struck a little lower the point of the weapon would have pierced the eye. Mr Dalgleish is not incapacitated through his painful experience." 

On the 20th April 1912 Bram Stoker died, but his Count lives on. After a short revival in the early 1920's the author of the play Mr George A. De Gray, obviously still worried about copyright issues, and following the action Bram's widow Florence took against Prana Films on their release of "Nosferatu" in 1922, who can blame him! On the 26th November 1924 he wrote a letter to "The Era";

The Era - Wednesday 26th November 1924.

"The Power Of The Cross.

Sir, I notice the announcement of a forthcoming tour of 'Dracula.' To avoid any discussion in the future, I should like to draw attention to the fact that on Boxing Day, 1905, at the Queens Theatre, Keighley, in conjunction with the late Lingford Carson. I produced and afterward toured continuously for four years with sensational success, 'The Power Of The Cross,' the Colonial rights of which were secured by the late George Marlow, who ran it for a long period throughout Australia and New Zealand.

This play, which was the first, and so far as I am aware, up to now, the only one to introduce the Dracula type of character to the public, was suggested by an old Austrian legend, published in 'Chambers Journal' in 1874 or 76'. 

As I have been approached by many resident managers with a suggestion that I should revive the piece next spring, and as I do not wish the question to arise in the future as to an infringement of any other rights. I should be greatly obliged if you would find space in your valuable paper for this letter.

Yours faithfully,

George A. De Gray."

Having searched Chambers Journal for the entire 1870s, I still cannot find any "Austrian Legends," the search continues..........