Tales of the Dead was an English anthology of horror fiction, published in 1813 by the publishing house White, Cochrane and Co.
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The collection had its origin in Das Gespensterbuch ("The Ghost Book"), a five-volume anthology of German ghost stories. The original anthology was published in Leipzig between 1811 and 1815. The stories were compiled by Friedrich August Schulze[1] (1770–1849), under the pen name Friedrich Laun, and Johann August Apel (1771–1816).
A selection of short stories from the first two volumes received a French language translation by Jean Baptiste Benoit Eyries (1767–1846) and was published in Paris during 1812. The French title was Fantasmagoriana, ou Recueil d'Histoires d'Apparitions de Spectres, Revenans, Fantomes, etc.; traduit de l'allemand, par un Amateur. The title is derived from Étienne-Gaspard Robert's Phantasmagoria.[2] The two volumes use as an epigraph "Falsis terroribus implet. — HORAT", meaning roughly "he fills [his breast] with imagined terrors".[3]
Five stories from the Fantasmagoriana were then translated into English by Sarah Elizabeth Utterson née Brown (c.1782–1851), wife of publisher Edward Vernon Utterson (1777–1856).[4] Three of the stories from the French she omitted as they "did not appear equally interesting" to her.[5] She also noted she had "considerably curtailed" her translation of "La Tête de Mort," "as it contained much matter relative to the loves of the hero and heroine, which in a compilation of this kind appeared rather misplaced." Utterson also added a story of her own, "The Storm." The six tales formed the 1813 book Tales of the Dead. Utterson used lines from The Tempest by Shakespeare for an epigraph, "Graves at my command/Have wak'd their sleepers; oped, and let 'em forth/By my so potent art."
Fantasmagoriana has a significant place in the history of English literature. In the summer of 1816 Lord Byron and John William Polidori were staying at the Villa Diodati by Lake Geneva and were visited by Percy Bysshe Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley and Claire Clairmont. Kept indoors by the "incessant rain" of that "wet, ungenial summer", over three days in June the five turned to reading fantastical stories, including Fantasmagoriana (in the French edition), and then devising their own tales. Mary Shelley produced what would become Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus and Polidori was inspired by a fragmentary story of Byron's to produce The Vampyre, the progenitor of the romantic vampire genre. Some parts of Frankenstein are surprisingly similar to those found in Fantasmagoriana and suggest a direct influence upon Mary Shelley's writing.
Both Fantasmagoriana and Tales of the Dead did not receive second editions during the remainder of the 19th century. Thus they were long unavailable for most of the 20th century.
In 1992, the Gothic Society of London published a new edition, introduced and slightly revised by Dr. Terry Hale (1957-). A second edition was published in 1994. This edition was available only by mail.
The 1990s version received a Greek language translation by Nikos Stampakis (Νίκος Σταμπάκης). The translation was published as Istories ton Nekron (Ιστορίες των Nεκρών) by publishing house Archetypo-Metaekdotiki (Greek: Archetype - Meta-publishing) in Thessaloniki during November 2003. The Greek edition claims to be the first available in bookstores since the 1810s.
In 2005, the first "full" English translation of Fantasmagoriana was published by Fantasmagoriana Press. This edition included three additional tales that Mrs Utterson had omitted from her translation; translations of "Le Revenant", "La Chambre grise" and "La Chambre noire" Day gave the titles "The Ghost of the Departed," "The Grey Room" and "The Black Chamber." The book also provided an academic essay by A.J.Day with possible evidence for Mary Shelley's visit to Burg Frankenstein in Germany, prior to the writing of her novel. However, it omits Utterson's translation of the French translator's preface, and reproduces her abridged translation of "La Tête de Mort."
| Das Gespensterbuch | Fantasmagoriana | Tales of the Dead | Ιστορίες των Nεκρών |
|---|---|---|---|
| Die Bilder der Ahnen | Portraits de Famille | The Family Portraits | Τα Οικογενειακά Πορτραίτα |
| Die Verwandtschaft mit der Geisterwelt | L'Heure Fatale | The Fated Hour | Η Μοιραία Ώρα |
| Der Todtenkopf | La Tête de Mort | The Death's Head | Η Νεκροκεφαλή |
| Die Todtenbraut | La Morte Fiancée | The Death-Bride | Η Νύφη του Θανάτου |
| N/A | N/A | The Storm | Η Καταιγίδα |
| Stumme Liebe | L'Amour Muet | The Spectre Barber | Ο Κουρέας-Φάντασμα |
| Der Geist des Verstorbenen | Le Revenant | N/A | N/A |
| Die graue Stube | La Chambre grise | N/A | N/A |
| Die schwartze Kammer | La Chambre noire | N/A | N/A |
Day attributes the story to Johann August Apel.
The tale starts briefly after sunset in a forest road of the former Holy Roman Empire. A lonely stagecoach makes its way through the forest. The coachman complains of the disrepair of the old road while his passenger is lost in contemplation. The narrator introduces the passenger as Ferdinand Meltheim, last of the "ancient" Meltheim family. Ferdinand was reportedly a typical youthful member of the aristocracy, having visited several universities and traveled across Europe. His father however had died during his absence. Ferdinand was returning to his homeland in order to receive his paternal inheritance.
His contemplations concern Clotilde Hainthal, a female member of another distinguished Noble House. She was one of several women his mother had made a point of bringing to his attention as suitable brides for him. His mother had apparently reached the conclusion that Clotilde was the most promising candidate. Consequently their latest correspondence mainly concerned Clotilde and the chance for her to give birth to a new heir for the Meltheims. Having however never met the young lady, Ferdinand was reportedly less than eager to marry her. He had however decided to head for the capital where the Hainthals were reportedly attending a carnival. Reasoning that meeting the bride would provide him with better arguments for rejecting her than a mere whim.
The imagination of Ferdinand also turns to the pleasant memories from his early days. He reportedly felt his future offered no charm comparable to those of his past. Content to recall his past existence, Ferdinand felt discouraged from a future seemingly against his inclination. He would reportedly like to prolong this journey.
Returning to the present and noticing a nearby village, Ferdinand instructed the coachman to enter it. The villagers were apparently having a celebration. Mr. Meltheim first reserved the best room of the local inn and then went out for a walk. He was attracted by the sounds of a concert and followed their source to the house of the local pastor. There he was welcomed by the host and his wife. Offered a choice between joining the amateur musician led by the pastor or the conversation circle of his youthful wife.
Ferdinand chose the latter and was led to a room reportedly containing several women and few men. The chosen theme for this night conversation was the narration of ghost stories. Ferdinand claimed to have no talent for explaining the wonderful. He was assured that no explanation would be required. Or else there would be no pleasure left in the stories. He had however interrupted the story of a young blonde woman. She asked him to listen to her story and then tell one of his own in return. The youth politely agreed.
Her story concerned Juliana, one of her young friends, who spend summers with her family in an old farm. The old villa at its center was "ancient" and had reportedly been inherited through a long line of paternal ancestors. Her father preserved the traditional style of the building and was especially proud of its portrait gallery.
This particular room of Gothic architecture contained the portraits of his ancestors and since time immemorial also served as the dining room. Juliana however felt fearful and repulsed while in this room and often asked to be excused. Since early childhood this had reportedly been her reaction to the particular portrait of an unnamed woman. The woman reportedly little resembled the rest of the family and her relationship to them was uncertain. Juliana claimed the portrait was looking directly at her with melancholic eyes. Yearning to pull her to those lips seemingly ready to speak to her. She felt sure this portrait would cause her death.
One night, Juliana thought she had seen those lips moving. She immediately had convulsions due to her fear. The attending physician advised her father to remove any source of fear from her sight. The ominous portrait was removed from the gallery and placed in a previously unoccupied room of the upper floor. Juliana spend two undisturbed years that ended with her engagement. Her fiancé visited her a day before their marriage. Juliana guided through the villa, first the bottom floor and then the upper one with its view to the distant mountain. Her path unknowingly led them to the room inhabited by the solitary portrait. The fiancé enquired about the identity of the depicted woman. Juliana took a glimpse of it, recognized it and then screamed. She panicked and ran for the door. The portrait fell on her. Juliana died because of a combination of its weight and her extreme fear.
The story was verified by another of the guests who had known the family and had seen the portrait. She described the look of the depicted woman as full of affectionate melancholy which pierces the heart. But the portrait was also described as full of charm and with life-like eyes. The hostess commented that she did not like portraits. They were said to grow pale following the death of their subject. The hostess could not stand to look at those wax figures of the dead.
Time however came for Ferdinand to add his own tale though commenting it as very similar to the previous one. He claimed to have learned it from a trust-worthy friend. The "friend" was actually Ferdinand himself.
One day, many years ago, Ferdinand had reportedly quarreled with a close friend of his on the subject of ghosts and omens. The two friends had however agreed to spend their vacation from university together. Following an unusually long winter, Ferdinand and his friend arrived at the family house of the latter in April. The visitor reportedly soon became as familiar to his hosts and their servants as the actual returning son. The two younger brothers of his friend were absent during the day but would sleep at night either with their elder brother or with his visiting friend. Emily, their twelve-year-old sister, called both university students "brothers" and was very hospitable to the unofficial family member.
The visitor noticed however that his younger friends appeared fearful when approaching a particular sizeable portrait. Ferdinand decided to more closely examine this portrait. The painting depicted a knight of the distant past. A long gray cloak hanged from his shoulders to his knees. A foot was set in front of the rest of the body, making the knight appear ready to step out of the painting. His facial expression caused fear to viewers. Rigor mortis having reportedly frozen the face in an expression revealing violent and disastrous passion, unconquered by death. The portrait gave the impression its unnamed artist had depicted the features of a man risen from the grave. Only the adolescent girl smiled at the painting. She regarded the man to be not evil but miserable. The portrait depicted the founder of this family.
The vacation was eventually reaching its conclusion. The elderly Count at the head of the family devoted the day preceding the departure of the two youths to a series of entertainments for them. Emily visibly took pleasure in actively participating and organizing them. The count and his daughter also made their visitor promise to return during the autumn. Ferdinand went to sleep with the two younger boys that night. But found himself unable to sleep. Partly due to his anticipation for the journey to university and partly due to his thoughts of young Emily. He was certain of her affection for him.
He eventually rose from the bed and reached the widow to gaze at the spots of the garden Emily had revealed to him. He feared that months of absence would replace her affection with reserve toward him. Ferdinand was lost in sad thoughts while leaving the room. He absent-mindedly started wandering the rooms until again reaching the scary portrait. Late at night the painting was partly covered in darkness and partly revealed by the moonlight. The knight appeared to be a horrid, moving spectre about to step out of the darkness. His facial expression revealing deep melancholy and pain. A shaken Ferdinand returned to his room. Only to see through the window, a deep fog seemingly leaving the ruins of the nearby ancestral tower and quickly approaching the window. The familiar gray-cloaked figure of the knight approaching with it. Ferdinand was further unnerved and returned to bed with the sleeping boys on the bed. But the knight soon also appeared at the edge of the bed. Ferdinand was petrified from fear while witnessing the ghost lightly kissing both boys on their foreheads.
The next morning Ferdinand awoke to the caressing of the two boys. He was eager to consider the events of the previous night as a dream. The elderly count however informed him of having been seen wandering the garden late at night. Ferdinand did not remember the event but attributed it to fever along with the terrifying visions of the previous night. The count enquired on those visions and learned of the ghostly kiss. Informing Ferdinand of its meaning. Both boys were expected to die. The ghost believed to serve as a messenger of death from the spiritual world.
Visitor and elder brother wanted to learn the reason of this fate for the two boys. But the elderly count considered them too young to learn the truth. The two left according to schedule. Informed three days later that both younger boys had perished during the same night.
Hale attributes the story to Schulze.
Hale attributes the story to Schulze.
Hale attributes the story to Utterson.
Titled in the original German, "Stumme Liebe", Hale attributes the story to Johann Karl August Musaus (29 March 1735 - 28 October 1787).