This gun toting Mickey Mouse is an example of the messaging and propaganda they circulated, though the Yippies were more well known for their street actions and stunts, including running a porcine called Pigasus for President. The image was used to promote calls for action and disruption of Disneyland in 1970, more details on that event can be found at libcom.org.
Also, you may find this 1968 film produced by the Yippies informative.
I'll say this for the anonymous artist who worked on this advertising material for the Grumman industrial concern, they did an excellent job with positioning and space.
When I share material older than 1925 I often get asked how it's in the public domain, in this case despite being published material there is no copyright notice present, which was mandated by the US copyright laws at the time.
I'm no fan of the arms industry, in fact over ten years ago I walked away from my plans to pursue a career within it after leaving University. So, its with great frustration that I have to concede that this poster from the 1970s is making an excellent point. The idea behind this buy F-14s advertisement is a concept known as the Security Dilemma, its the major factor for why most nations around the globe spend heavily on defence and offense capabilities, and also how large and well equipped militaries do not in fact lead to a peaceful world by themselves.
The simplest way to think of the Security Dilemma is in the type of scenario presented by this poster,
There's more to international relations than this mechanistic cycle, but it is still an important part of the logic of militarisation. The lack of attention to the Security Dilemma is a major weakness of the pacifist and anti-militarist movements. Much of their argumentation relies on moral arguments, which is understandable, the moral implications of institutions and industries dedicated to the killing of over human beings are as obvious as they are horrific, but this overfocus constrains these movements and limits their potential audiences and strategies of resistance.
They're also heavily constrained by context, I remember the anti-war movements in the UK and Western Europe in the 2000s, they were large and popular since the types of conflicts the UK, France and NATO were involving themselves in were far away and often under the initiatives of their governments. These conflicts were widely seen as aggressive on "Our" part, or at least an overreaction. During the 2010s and especially after 2022 the atmosphere has radically changed and support for military action and spending is much more popular and resistance to it the more marginal. Why? Well now we're all reminded that the "West" is not the sole purveyor of armed strife and repression, their are other powers in the world just as willing and capable of resorting to mass destruction to get their way. Opposing BAE Systems was easy when the news was full of the destruction wrought on Baghdad, its much less so now that the news is full of Russian strikes on hospitals and schools and the ruin of Bakhmut.
The Security Dilemma is also the main reason why the previously somewhat sucessful strategy of partial demilitarisation won't work in the long run. The organised anti-war movement was somewhat sucessful in getting specific types of weapons of destruction to be seen as taboo and were able to leverage the outrage and disgust over them to get some states to adopt laws and subscribe to treaties that would phase out parts of their stockpiles. Land Mines, Cluster munitions and multiple types of chemical and biological weapons and some Nuclear munitions were after years of blood, sweat and tears from millions of passionate campaigners starting to look like endangered species. But now much of that work may well be undone as recent conflicts demonstrate to all the powers that these horrific tools do have practical applications.
In Syria Assad's regime used chemical weapons to break an rebellion that may well have toppled him. He also heavily relied on aviatian, artillery and Iranian and Russian support but the case studies he ran using Chlorine shells will prove useful in certain circles. The war in Ukraine fought between two nations which have not outlawed Cluster munitions or land mines have demonstrated how militarily useful both can be in certain conflict scenarios. When the United States of America which also has not subscribed to the ban on Cluster munitions started supplying Ukraine with some of its stockpiles the leaders of the governments in Western Europe were grilled quite heavily about the issue for a week. They all just reiterated their official opposition to these weapons and then concluded they could do nothing about it.
The only way to solve the Security Dilemma is to take an approach at the root of the issue. Banning F-14s and their equivalents globally won't effect Cruise Missiles, getting Cruise Missiles scrapped won't touch Tanks or Mortars, nor stop the logic that drives businesses to operate in the arms markets, nor states from investing and supporting these companies and the wider market. If we ever genuinely want to see a world free of F-14s, SU-34s, Elbit produced Drones, AK-47s, Challenger 2s, Mirage Fighter Jets and Scud Missiles, we need to attack their support structure.
The military industrial complex and its ancestors have always been extremely resource intensive and required decades of support and investment to bare fruit. Without the capitalist market and the State system they will not be sustainable. If humanity truly is doomed by nature to a cycle of fratricidal violence (which is not what I believe but others apparently do) than by taking away his toys and the workshops that build those toys will prevent the worst excessises of that nature. Anti-Militarism without a Materialist strategy for resistance will be doomed to ultimate failure.
Well the election came and went, It'll take a few days of settling for accurate information to comeout to see what exactly happened there. In the run up to the big day I saw pages of Your Vote is Vital! a 1952 comic book created by Harvey Press to both advocate for voting and explain how the system of elective representation works. The entire comic has been scanned and can be seen/downloaded at Comic Book Plus.
Personally speaking, I find "GOTV" (Get Out the Vote) art tiresome, it often just a short command to participate, sometimes followed up with a moralising attack on a strawman reperesentation of the "apathetic voter". This comic is something of an exception, its still extremely judgy of people who aren't racing to the polling station to vote but formulates several arguments for why a citizen should care about elections and makes some consideration for the limitations and vulnerabilities of the governmental system of the United States of America.
I was tempted to upload every page here, but due to Blogger lacking a gallery function that would look awful, so instead I'll just highlight a few chosen pages.
This is the first page, and it isn't a great start. The argument that one man one vote just isn't true, its not true now, and it wasn't true in 1952. The USA is made up of states and its President is chosen via an electoral college system, that system in many states is functionally independent of the popular vote the decision to award state votes to a candidate who wins the vote in that state is largely done by convention. But even if it was law that the College and the Popular votes had to match there are four elections 1876, 1888,2000,2016 where the eventual winner did not recieve the most popular votes. At best Brown Hat here as an equal vote with his state, or congressional district if he lives in Maine or Nebraska, national his vote is weighted differently.
On the next page we're getting into a bit more substance, I was surprised to see Uncle Sam acknowledge that the assumption that elections are rule by majority is often not the case in reality. Though I notice some backsliding in the assumption that half the eligible (And we'll come to whats iffy about that term later) voters are lazy. It especially strange as pages within this very comic will present us with possible alternative explanations for why the Presidents vote base was so small.
A few things on this page, for historical context the after WWII Czechoslovakia held elections which lead to a coalition government coming to power. That coalition included the Communist party which in 1948-9 launched a coup against its coalition partners and built a dictatorship which quickly aligned with the Soviet Union. There was no voting in China the brutal dictatorial KMT were violently overthrown by the brutal dictatorial CPC, but I believe he's making a general point about complacency with the government being dangerous. I was glad to see a reference to the dictatorial regime of Peron in Argentina, I thought this was going to be a red scare screed but it seems to genuinely be in favour of elective government over overt authoritarianism.
Its wider point that who governs a nation will have an impact on every facet of daily life is important. From experience I've seen people get agitated over one issue to support a policy or faction who hammer them with every other policy they have. But I think the middle argument about organised minorities versus the lazy apathetic masses is a bit weak. It presupposes that the masses are opposed to thses minorities, when we have no way of knowing that, they could just as easily vote with these minorities. This is something that is common to all the typical "I Voted" propaganda that clogs everything in the run up to elections, if your aim is purely to increase participation then that's fine I guess, but generic calls to participation surely if they have any impact would risk encouraging voting for other candidates, policies and positions too?
I'll credit the comic for having the maturity to acknowledge this issue, but its solution to this problem is to spend time learning the voting records and public statements of presumably all the candidates for election, that could easily number in the hundreds. I'm someone who is engaged politically so in principle I agree with Sam, if you're going to vote or do anything to support a candidate/party you should do so informed and certain of your convictions. But, I also know how difficult that is, especially for minority viewpoints who do not have connections to mass media or funds for campaigning material. And then on top of all the difficulties there's the Woodrow Wilson issue. You have zero guarantee that past behaviour will reflect on future behaviour when elected.
In the 1916 election, many supporters of the Socialist Party broke ranks and voted and campaigned for Woodrow Wilson for President. They did this because they were desperate to keep the USA out of the slaughter known as the First World War. Wilson won and in 1917 the USA entered the First World War anyway.
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| This cartoon was made before Wilson won and implies that he'll lose because of his opposition to entering it. |
The voters are not the only instrument of pressure affecting policy, as Wilson discovered after taking office.
See here is some of the vulnerabilities the comic can't or won't try to tackle, ownership of the means of communication. Who owns those newspapers and radio stations? What about the effect of the current government? I do however agree with the last point about the need to use your critical thinking skills to engage with and assess political messaging rather than just accepting what you're given.
I don't necessarily disagree with this messaging, it just that for someone like me it begs the question why bother? If we're already investing our time into thinking about issues and the best solutions to those issues than why bother with governments and elections? Why not just work them out ourselves? Brown Hat and the model voters he represents is already putting in much of the brainwork of problem solving why limit it to choosing candidates and hoping that they win and then hoping that they can buck all the counter pressures? I know the answer is simple, the comics authors didn't think beyond the narrow confines of state government but I don't see why it should limit me or any other reader.
Remember back on page 3 I mentioned some issues with framing non-voters as lazy? Well this page covers many of those issues and doesn't do it very well it just states the official procedure and then refuses to discuss the many issues with it. To vote you have to register to vote which is a procedure that varies heavily from state to state in the USA. Sam is just vaguely describing some of the most common ones here, and we just have to take his word that this is all very easy and the instructions on how to do so are in fact everywhere so its your fault if you don't know. I don't know if you've ever had to interact with a government department for anything but easy and straightforward is not how I'd describe the process.
There's another darker side to this, did you know that US Federal and State governments include people in their jurisidiction that do not qualify for citizenship? Puerto Ricans living in Puerto Rico don't count, they have to move to the proper United States and fulfil a number of bureacratic tasks dependent on where they are to qualify. That's just one example, it also applies to the rest of the populations of the US territories which is currently over 3 million. In addition in some states those found guilty of crimes lose the right to vote even after their terms of imprisonment are up, as far as I can tell these people are still classed as citizens but have this right denied them.
It has been common practice in the United States to make felons ineligible to vote, in some cases permanently. Over the last few decades, the general trend has been toward reinstating the right to vote at some point, although this is a state-by-state policy choice. (See "Recent State Actions" below for a chronology.)
https://www.ncsl.org/elections-and-campaigns/felon-voting-rights
There is still one more issue with this page I feel I must voice. This comic was published in 1952, this is important because Sam is mentioning a literacy test or presentation of school diploma to have the right to vote. At this time several states in Sam's Union were practising legal and open segregation, as part of that attack on the civil rights of Black Americans, these jurisidictions used tests and poll taxes to deny them the vote.
Here's an example of these "reading and writing" tests used in Lousiana
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| To be clear these tests were supposed to be impossible |
And on reflection it is disappointing that a comic about the importance of civic rights, and one that actively warns about the dangers of tyranny has nothing to say about segregation and is endorsing one of its aspects.
Since primaries aren't typical of election systems and are unique to the US I found this page informative but I find that it doesn't reflect reality. We've gone from voting in an election to joining a political party and leveraging influence, in the example Sam gives the winner is the one who can persuade the most people through hard work and personal charisma, but you don't have to be as cynical as I am to figure out that you could also use funds or networks of influence as leverage. Does the average working person have the time, energy and financial cushion to dedicate enough time and energy? And isn't this just an example of the organised minorities in action?
I'm no fan of party allegiance over personal conscience so its good that Sam reminds us that we don't have to vote for a party slate on every election or issue, but if you've formally joined a political party you will be expected to work to its benefit in someway even if its just sending them financial contributions, so the secret ballott isn't an antidote to partisan politics.
I once heard someone describing the problems with the governmental system of the United States of America was that its foundations were laid by men who were extremely concerned with the supposed threat of the general public deciding policy but didn't fully grasp or understand political parties and factions of influence so devised a system that limited the impact of the former and completly failed to account for the latter, and we see that argument borne out in this comic. It is the best defence for the US system I've encountered and it is extremely worried about the dangers of ignorant voting but it barely touches on the potential malign influences of party politics and is completly silent on how capitalist economics create concentrations of power, persuasion and influence.
So in summary according to Uncle Sam the American public as a mass must become political obsessives, investing much of their time and income on a variety of sources, slowly building a habit of critical thinking through experience while actively collaborating in the party system, so that the USA can safe guard against the worst facets of government, forever. If the dangers posed by these institutions in hostile hands is so great, than logically the American people's time would be better spent working towards its dismantling instead of commiting to a forever war against the tyrannical minorities lurking within its society.
In the end I'm left thinking of an old poster on a wall I saw sometime ago, it said "Choosing your master does not make you free".
Before I get started, no Paul Verhoeven's Show Girls and its affiliated properties are not PD media, they're all intact on the copyright front. Something to keep in mind the next time someone tries to tell you only trash is public domain.
I stumbled upon an interesting story on r/lostmedia about another sequel to the infamous flop Showgirls, if you're not familiar with the other slightly more well known sequel which is either called Pennies from Heaven or just Showgirls 2, this was concerning a totally different even more obscure film.
The sequel that was the focus of the post is called Showgirls Exposed/Showgirls 2 the Story of Hope, which is not to be confused with the later re-release of the original film, which is called Showgirls Fully Exposed. It is a strange story, but the film is real and there is a trailer for it online which can be watched online. Here's where copyright rears its ugly head, the film was produced in the 2000s-2010s but could only be seen in the United States of America, why you ask? Well, the film includes scenes from a little movie called The Cabinet of Dr Caligari. Why is footage from a 1919 film an obstacle to wider releases? Because in addition to being old, it's also German. Germany like most of the world uses a life plus system, in their case 70 years after death of creators. That meant that at the time of the film's release Caligari's rights were still owned by the Murnau Foundation, an organisation setup by the West German Government in 1966 to preserve and restore classic German cinema, it has since earned a reputation for censorship and abuse of copyright to control and limit the use of classic German cinema. The director and most of the backers for Showgirls Exposed are themselves German, so this is a bit of an odd oversight to say the least.
So, despite being a German production the film could only be released in one market, the United States which is still using a date of release system despite passing a law to overhaul US copyright to reflect the "normal" international version in the 1970s. Add to that SEO complications and competition from other related projects, and you have a perfect recipe for crippling obscurity.
But I have some good news! In Germany, copyright of motion pictures is determined by the Director, scriptwriter, dialogue writer and composer of original music for the film.
With respect to cinematographic works, the term of protection is the life and 70 years after the death of the longest surviving of a group of authors consisting of the main director, the author of the film script, the author of the dialogue, and the composer of any music created for the film.
https://www.lexology.com/library/detail.aspx?g=5a9f6b59-1014-4d39-a4f0-7f83bb4428f9
And the director of Caligari Robert Wiene died in 1938 and the scriptwriters Carl Mayer and Hans Janowitz perished in 1944 and 1954 respectively. And as a silent movie, it had no credited composer. This means that by January next year the film will be in the public domain in Germany and possibly already is depending on whether Mayer was principle scriptwriter, the information I could find listed both as co-writers with no distinguishing between them. So, if Marc Vorlander, the director of Showgirls Exposed, is still active, perhaps the new year will finally bring some much-needed appreciation to his masterpiece. Time will tell, I guess.
,_The_Nightmare,_1781.jpg) |
| Henry Fuseli's The Nightmare painting in 1781 |
For Samhain I bring you this early entry in the cannon of monsters John William Polidori's The Vampyre, a short story written on the same get together with Byron and friends in which Mary Shelley wrote the first version of Frankenstein. The story was released to the public in 1819.
It happened that in the midst of the dissipations attendant upon a London winter, there appeared at the various parties of the leaders of the ton a nobleman, more remarkable for his singularities, than his rank. He gazed upon the mirth around him, as if he could not participate therein. Apparently, the light laughter of the fair only attracted his attention, that he might by a look quell it, and throw fear into those breasts where thoughtlessness reigned. Those who felt this sensation of awe, could not explain whence it arose: some attributed it to the dead grey eye, which, fixing upon the object’s face, did not seem to penetrate, and at one glance to pierce through to the inward workings of the heart; but fell upon the cheek with a leaden ray that weighed upon the skin it could not pass. His peculiarities caused him to be invited to every house; all wished to see him, and those who had been accustomed to violent excitement, and now felt the weight of ennui, were pleased at having something in their presence capable of engaging their attention. In spite of the deadly hue of his face, which never gained a warmer tint, either from the blush of modesty, or from the strong emotion of passion, though its form and outline were beautiful, many of the female hunters after notoriety attempted to win his attentions, and gain, at least, some marks of what they might term affection: Lady Mercer, who had been the mockery of every monster shown in drawing-rooms since her marriage, threw herself in his way, and did all but put on the dress of a mountebank, to attract his notice:—though in vain:—when she stood before him, though his eyes were apparently fixed upon hers, still it seemed as if they were unperceived;—even her unappalled impudence was baffled, and she left the field. But though the common adultress could not influence even the guidance of his eyes, it was not that the female sex was indifferent to him: yet such was the apparent caution with which he spoke to the virtuous wife and innocent daughter, that few knew he ever addressed himself to females. He had, however, the reputation of a winning tongue; and whether it was that it even overcame the dread of his singular character, or that they were moved by his apparent hatred of vice, he was as often among those females who form the boast of their sex from their domestic virtues, as among those who sully it by their vices.
About the same time, there came to London a young gentleman of the name of Aubrey: he was an orphan left with an only sister in the possession of great wealth, by parents who died while he was yet in childhood. Left also to himself by guardians, who thought it their duty merely to take care of his fortune, while they relinquished the more important charge of his mind to the care of mercenary subalterns, he cultivated more his imagination than his judgment. He had, hence, that high romantic feeling of honour and candour, which daily ruins so many milliners’ apprentices. He believed all to sympathise with virtue, and thought that vice was thrown in by Providence merely for the picturesque effect of the scene, as we see in romances: he thought that the misery of a cottage merely consisted in the vesting of clothes, which were as warm, but which were better adapted to the painter’s eye by their irregular folds and various coloured patches. He thought, in fine, that the dreams of poets were the realities of life. He was handsome, frank, and rich: for these reasons, upon his entering into the gay circles, many mothers surrounded him, striving which should describe with least truth their languishing or romping favourites: the daughters at the same time, by their brightening countenances when he approached, and by their sparkling eyes, when he opened his lips, soon led him into false notions of his talents and his merit. Attached as he was to the romance of his solitary hours, he was startled at finding, that, except in the tallow and wax candles that flickered, not from the presence of a ghost, but from want of snuffing, there was no foundation in real life for any of that congeries of pleasing pictures and descriptions contained in those volumes, from which he had formed his study. Finding, however, some compensation in his gratified vanity, he was about to relinquish his dreams, when the extraordinary being we have above described, crossed him in his career.
He watched him; and the very impossibility of forming an idea of the character of a man entirely absorbed in himself, who gave few other signs of his observation of external objects, than the tacit assent to their existence, implied by the avoidance of their contact: allowing his imagination to picture everything that flattered its propensity to extravagant ideas, he soon formed this object into the hero of a romance, and determined to observe the offspring of his fancy, rather than the person before him. He became acquainted with him, paid him attentions, and so far advanced upon his notice, that his presence was always recognised. He gradually learnt that Lord Ruthven’s affairs were embarrassed, and soon found, from the notes of preparation in ⸻ Street, that he was about to travel. Desirous of gaining some information respecting this singular character, who, till now, had only whetted his curiosity, he hinted to his guardians, that it was time for him to perform the tour, which for many generations has been thought necessary to enable the young to take some rapid steps in the career of vice towards putting themselves upon an equality with the aged, and not allowing them to appear as if fallen from the skies, whenever scandalous intrigues are mentioned as the subjects of pleasantry or of praise, according to the degree of skill shown in carrying them on. They consented: and Aubrey immediately mentioning his intentions to Lord Ruthven, was surprised to receive from him a proposal to join him. Flattered by such a mark of esteem from him, who, apparently, had nothing in common with other men, he gladly accepted it, and in a few days they had passed the circling waters.
Hitherto, Aubrey had had no opportunity of studying Lord Ruthven’s character, and now he found, that, though many more of his actions were exposed to his view, the results offered different conclusions from the apparent motives to his conduct. His companion was profuse in his liberality;—the idle, the vagabond, and the beggar, received from his hand more than enough to relieve their immediate wants. But Aubrey could not avoid remarking, that it was not upon the virtuous, reduced to indigence by the misfortunes attendant even upon virtue, that he bestowed his alms;—these were sent from the door with hardly suppressed sneers; but when the profligate came to ask something, not to relieve his wants, but to allow him to wallow in his lust, or to sink him still deeper in his iniquity, he was sent away with rich charity. This was, however, attributed by him to the greater importunity of the vicious, which generally prevails over the retiring bashfulness of the virtuous indigent. There was one circumstance about the charity of his Lordship, which was still more impressed upon his mind: all those upon whom it was bestowed, inevitably found that there was a curse upon it, for they were all either led to the scaffold, or sunk to the lowest and the most abject misery. At Brussels and other towns through which they passed, Aubrey was surprised at the apparent eagerness with which his companion sought for the centres of all fashionable vice; there he entered into all the spirit of the faro table: he betted, and always gambled with success, except where the known sharper was his antagonist, and then he lost even more than he gained; but it was always with the same unchanging face, with which he generally watched the society around: it was not, however, so when he encountered the rash youthful novice, or the luckless father of a numerous family; then his very wish seemed fortune’s law—this apparent abstractedness of mind was laid aside, and his eyes sparkled with more fire than that of the cat whilst dallying with the half-dead mouse. In every town, he left the formerly affluent youth, torn from the circle he adorned, cursing, in the solitude of a dungeon, the fate that had drawn him within the reach of this fiend; whilst many a father sat frantic, amidst the speaking looks of mute hungry children, without a single farthing of his late immense wealth, wherewith to buy even sufficient to satisfy their present craving. Yet he took no money from the gambling table; but immediately lost, to the ruiner of many, the last gilder he had just snatched from the convulsive grasp of the innocent: this might but be the result of a certain degree of knowledge, which was not, however, capable of combating the cunning of the more experienced. Aubrey often wished to represent this to his friend, and beg him to resign that charity and pleasure which proved the ruin of all, and did not tend to his own profit;—but he delayed it—for each day he hoped his friend would give him some opportunity of speaking frankly and openly to him; however, this never occurred. Lord Ruthven in his carriage, and amidst the various wild and rich scenes of nature, was always the same: his eye spoke less than his lip; and though Aubrey was near the object of his curiosity, he obtained no greater gratification from it than the constant excitement of vainly wishing to break that mystery, which to his exalted imagination began to assume the appearance of something supernatural.
They soon arrived at Rome, and Aubrey for a time lost sight of his companion; he left him in daily attendance upon the morning circle of an Italian countess, whilst he went in search of the memorials of another almost deserted city. Whilst he was thus engaged, letters arrived from England, which he opened with eager impatience; the first was from his sister, breathing nothing but affection; the others were from his guardians, the latter astonished him; if it had before entered into his imagination that there was an evil power resident in his companion, these seemed to give him sufficient reason for the belief. His guardians insisted upon his immediately leaving his friend, and urged, that his character was dreadfully vicious, for that the possession of irresistible powers of seduction, rendered his licentious habits more dangerous to society. It had been discovered, that his contempt for the adultress had not originated in hatred of her character; but that he had required, to enhance his gratification, that his victim, the partner of his guilt, should be hurled from the pinnacle of unsullied virtue, down to the lowest abyss of infamy and degradation: in fine, that all those females whom he had sought, apparently on account of their virtue, had, since his departure, thrown even the mask aside, and had not scrupled to expose the whole deformity of their vices to the public gaze.
Aubrey determined upon leaving one, whose character had not yet shown a single bright point on which to rest the eye. He resolved to invent some plausible pretext for abandoning him altogether, purposing, in the meanwhile, to watch him more closely, and to let no slight circumstances pass by unnoticed. He entered into the same circle, and soon perceived, that his Lordship was endeavouring to work upon the inexperience of the daughter of the lady whose house he chiefly frequented. In Italy, it is seldom that an unmarried female is met with in society; he was therefore obliged to carry on his plans in secret; but Aubrey’s eye followed him in all his windings, and soon discovered that an assignation had been appointed, which would most likely end in the ruin of an innocent, though thoughtless girl. Losing no time, he entered the apartment of Lord Ruthven, and abruptly asked him his intentions with respect to the lady, informing him at the same time that he was aware of his being about to meet her that very night. Lord Ruthven answered, that his intentions were such as he supposed all would have upon such an occasion; and upon being pressed whether he intended to marry her, merely laughed. Aubrey retired; and, immediately writing a note, to say, that from that moment he must decline accompanying his Lordship in the remainder of their proposed tour, he ordered his servant to seek other apartments, and calling upon the mother of the lady, informed her of all he knew, not only with regard to her daughter, but also concerning the character of his Lordship. The assignation was prevented. Lord Ruthven next day merely sent his servant to notify his complete assent to a separation; but did not hint any suspicion of his plans having been foiled by Aubrey’s interposition.
Having left Rome, Aubrey directed his steps towards Greece, and crossing the Peninsula, soon found himself at Athens. He then fixed his residence in the house of a Greek; and soon occupied himself in tracing the faded records of ancient glory upon monuments that apparently, ashamed of chronicling the deeds of freemen only before slaves, had hidden themselves beneath the sheltering soil or many coloured lichen. Under the same roof as himself, existed a being, so beautiful and delicate, that she might have formed the model for a painter wishing to portray on canvas the promised hope of the faithful in Muhammad’s paradise, save that her eyes spoke too much mind for anyone to think she could belong to those who had no souls. As she danced upon the plain, or tripped along the mountain’s side, one would have thought the gazelle a poor type of her beauties; for who would have exchanged her eye, apparently the eye of animated nature, for that sleepy luxurious look of the animal suited but to the taste of an epicure. The light step of Ianthe often accompanied Aubrey in his search after antiquities, and often would the unconscious girl, engaged in the pursuit of a Kashmere butterfly, show the whole beauty of her form, floating as it were upon the wind, to the eager gaze of him, who forgot the letters he had just decyphered upon an almost effaced tablet, in the contemplation of her sylphlike figure. Often would her tresses falling, as she flitted around, exhibit in the sun’s ray such delicately brilliant and swiftly fading hues, it might well excuse the forgetfulness of the antiquary, who let escape from his mind the very object he had before thought of vital importance to the proper interpretation of a passage in Pausanias. But why attempt to describe charms which all feel, but none can appreciate?—It was innocence, youth, and beauty, unaffected by crowded drawing-rooms and stifling balls. Whilst he drew those remains of which he wished to preserve a memorial for his future hours, she would stand by, and watch the magic effects of his pencil, in tracing the scenes of her native place; she would then describe to him the circling dance upon the open plain, would paint, to him in all the glowing colours of youthful memory, the marriage pomp she remembered viewing in her infancy; and then, turning to subjects that had evidently made a greater impression upon her mind, would tell him all the supernatural tales of her nurse. Her earnestness and apparent belief of what she narrated, excited the interest even of Aubrey; and often as she told him the tale of the living vampire, who had passed years amidst his friends, and dearest ties, forced every year, by feeding upon the life of a lovely female to prolong his existence for the ensuing months, his blood would run cold, whilst he attempted to laugh her out of such idle and horrible fantasies; but Ianthe cited to him the names of old men, who had at last detected one living among themselves, after several of their near relatives and children had been found marked with the stamp of the fiend’s appetite; and when she found him so incredulous, she begged of him to believe her, for it had been remarked, that those who had dared to question their existence, always had some proof given, which obliged them, with grief and heartbreaking, to confess it was true. She detailed to him the traditional appearance of these monsters, and his horror was increased, by hearing a pretty accurate description of Lord Ruthven; he, however, still persisted in persuading her, that there could be no truth in her fears, though at the same time he wondered at the many coincidences which had all tended to excite a belief in the supernatural power of Lord Ruthven.
Aubrey began to attach himself more and more to Ianthe; her innocence, so contrasted with all the affected virtues of the women among whom he had sought for his vision of romance, won his heart; and while he ridiculed the idea of a young man of English habits, marrying an uneducated Greek girl, still he found himself more and more attached to the almost-fairy form before him. He would tear himself at times from her, and, forming a plan for some antiquarian research, he would depart, determined not to return until his object was attained; but he always found it impossible to fix his attention upon the ruins around him, whilst in his mind he retained an image that seemed alone the rightful possessor of his thoughts. Ianthe was unconscious of his love, and was ever the same frank infantile being he had first known. She always seemed to part from him with reluctance; but it was because she had no longer anyone with whom she could visit her favourite haunts, whilst her guardian was occupied in sketching or uncovering some fragment which had yet escaped the destructive hand of time. She had appealed to her parents on the subject of vampires, and they both, with several present, affirmed their existence, pale with horror at the very name. Soon after, Aubrey determined to proceed upon one of his excursions, which was to detain him for a few hours; when they heard the name of the place, they all at once begged of him not to return at night, as he must necessarily pass through a wood, where no Greek would ever remain, after the day had closed, upon any consideration. They described it as the resort of the vampires in their nocturnal orgies, and denounced the most heavy evils as impending upon him who dared to cross their path. Aubrey made light of their representations, and tried to laugh them out of the idea; but when he saw them shudder at his daring thus to mock a superior, infernal power, the very name of which apparently made their blood freeze, he was silent.
Next morning Aubrey set off upon his excursion unattended; he was surprised to observe the melancholy face of his host, and was concerned to find that his words, mocking the belief of those horrible fiends, had inspired them with such terror. When he was about to depart, Ianthe came to the side of his horse, and earnestly begged of him to return, ere night allowed the power of these beings to be put in action;—he promised. He was, however, so occupied in his research, that he did not perceive that daylight would soon end, and that in the horizon there was one of those specks which, in the warmer climates, so rapidly gather into a tremendous mass, and pour all their rage upon the devoted country.—He at last, however, mounted his horse, determined to make up by speed for his delay: but it was too late. Twilight, in these southern climates, is almost unknown; immediately the sun sets, night begins: and ere he had advanced far, the power of the storm was above—its echoing thunders had scarcely an interval of rest—its thick heavy rain forced its way through the canopying foliage, whilst the blue forked lightning seemed to fall and radiate at his very feet. Suddenly his horse took fright, and he was carried with dreadful rapidity through the entangled forest. The animal at last, through fatigue, stopped, and he found, by the glare of lightning, that he was in the neighbourhood of a hovel that hardly lifted itself up from the masses of dead leaves and brushwood which surrounded it. Dismounting, he approached, hoping to find someone to guide him to the town, or at least trusting to obtain shelter from the pelting of the storm. As he approached, the thunders, for a moment silent, allowed him to hear the dreadful shrieks of a woman mingling with the stifled, exultant mockery of a laugh, continued in one almost unbroken sound;—he was startled: but, roused by the thunder which again rolled over his head, he, with a sudden effort, forced open the door of the hut. He found himself in utter darkness: the sound, however, guided him. He was apparently unperceived; for, though he called, still the sounds continued, and no notice was taken of him. He found himself in contact with someone, whom he immediately seized; when a voice cried, “Again baffled!” to which a loud laugh succeeded; and he felt himself grappled by one whose strength seemed superhuman: determined to sell his life as dearly as he could, he struggled; but it was in vain: he was lifted from his feet and hurled with enormous force against the ground:—his enemy threw himself upon him, and kneeling upon his breast, had placed his hands upon his throat—when the glare of many torches penetrating through the hole that gave light in the day, disturbed him;—he instantly rose, and, leaving his prey, rushed through the door, and in a moment the crashing of the branches, as he broke through the wood, was no longer heard. The storm was now still; and Aubrey, incapable of moving, was soon heard by those without. They entered; the light of their torches fell upon the mud walls, and the thatch loaded on every individual straw with heavy flakes of soot. At the desire of Aubrey they searched for her who had attracted him by her cries; he was again left in darkness; but what was his horror, when the light of the torches once more burst upon him, to perceive the airy form of his fair conductress brought in a lifeless corpse. He shut his eyes, hoping that it was but a vision arising from his disturbed imagination; but he again saw the same form, when he unclosed them, stretched by his side. There was no colour upon her cheek, not even upon her lip; yet there was a stillness about her face that seemed almost as attaching as the life that once dwelt there:—upon her neck and breast was blood, and upon her throat were the marks of teeth having opened the vein:—to this the men pointed, crying, simultaneously struck with horror, “A vampire! a vampire!” A litter was quickly formed, and Aubrey was laid by the side of her who had lately been to him the object of so many bright and fairy visions, now fallen with the flower of life that had died within her. He knew not what his thoughts were—his mind was benumbed and seemed to shun reflection, and take refuge in vacancy—he held almost unconsciously in his hand a naked dagger of a particular construction, which had been found in the hut. They were soon met by different parties who had been engaged in the search of her whom a mother had missed. Their lamentable cries, as they approached the city, forewarned the parents of some dreadful catastrophe. —To describe their grief would be impossible; but when they ascertained the cause of their child’s death, they looked at Aubrey, and pointed to the corpse. They were inconsolable; both died brokenhearted.
Aubrey being put to bed was seized with a most violent fever, and was often delirious; in these intervals he would call upon Lord Ruthven and upon Ianthe—by some unaccountable combination he seemed to beg of his former companion to spare the being he loved. At other times he would imprecate maledictions upon his head, and curse him as her destroyer. Lord Ruthven, chanced at this time to arrive at Athens, and, from whatever motive, upon hearing of the state of Aubrey, immediately placed himself in the same house, and became his constant attendant. When the latter recovered from his delirium, he was horrified and startled at the sight of him whose image he had now combined with that of a vampire; but Lord Ruthven, by his kind words, implying almost repentance for the fault that had caused their separation, and still more by the attention, anxiety, and care which he showed, soon reconciled him to his presence. His lordship seemed quite changed; he no longer appeared that apathetic being who had so astonished Aubrey; but as soon as his convalescence began to be rapid, he again gradually retired into the same state of mind, and Aubrey perceived no difference from the former man, except that at times he was surprised to meet his gaze fixed intently upon him, with a smile of malicious exultation playing upon his lips: he knew not why, but this smile haunted him. During the last stage of the invalid’s recovery, Lord Ruthven was apparently engaged in watching the tideless waves raised by the cooling breeze, or in marking the progress of those orbs, circling, like our world, the moveless sun;—indeed, he appeared to wish to avoid the eyes of all.
Aubrey’s mind, by this shock, was much weakened, and that elasticity of spirit which had once so distinguished him now seemed to have fled forever. He was now as much a lover of solitude and silence as Lord Ruthven; but much as he wished for solitude, his mind could not find it in the neighbourhood of Athens; if he sought it amidst the ruins he had formerly frequented, Ianthe’s form stood by his side—if he sought it in the woods, her light step would appear wandering amidst the underwood, in quest of the modest violet; then suddenly turning round, would show, to his wild imagination, her pale face and wounded throat, with a meek smile upon her lips. He determined to fly scenes, every feature of which created such bitter associations in his mind. He proposed to Lord Ruthven, to whom he held himself bound by the tender care he had taken of him during his illness, that they should visit those parts of Greece neither had yet seen. They travelled in every direction, and sought every spot to which a recollection could be attached: but though they thus hastened from place to place, yet they seemed not to heed what they gazed upon. They heard much of robbers, but they gradually began to slight these reports, which they imagined were only the invention of individuals, whose interest it was to excite the generosity of those whom they defended from pretended dangers. In consequence of thus neglecting the advice of the inhabitants, on one occasion they travelled with only a few guards, more to serve as guides than as a defence. Upon entering, however, a narrow defile, at the bottom of which was the bed of a torrent, with large masses of rock brought down from the neighbouring precipices, they had reason to repent their negligence; for scarcely were the whole of the party engaged in the narrow pass, when they were startled by the whistling of bullets close to their heads, and by the echoed report of several guns. In an instant their guards had left them, and, placing themselves behind rocks, had begun to fire in the direction whence the report came. Lord Ruthven and Aubrey, imitating their example, retired for a moment behind the sheltering turn of the defile: but ashamed of being thus detained by a foe, who with insulting shouts bade them advance, and being exposed to unresisting slaughter, if any of the robbers should climb above and take them in the rear, they determined at once to rush forward in search of the enemy. Hardly had they lost the shelter of the rock, when Lord Ruthven received a shot in the shoulder, which brought him to the ground. Aubrey hastened to his assistance; and, no longer heeding the contest or his own peril, was soon surprised by seeing the robbers’ faces around him—his guards having, upon Lord Ruthven’s being wounded, immediately thrown up their arms and surrendered.
By promises of great reward, Aubrey soon induced them to convey his wounded friend to a neighbouring cabin; and having agreed upon a ransom, he was no more disturbed by their presence—they being content merely to guard the entrance till their comrade should return with the promised sum, for which he had an order. Lord Ruthven’s strength rapidly decreased; in two days mortification ensued, and death seemed advancing with hasty steps. His conduct and appearance had not changed; he seemed as unconscious of pain as he had been of the objects about him: but towards the close of the last evening, his mind became apparently uneasy, and his eye often fixed upon Aubrey, who was induced to offer his assistance with more than usual earnestness—“Assist me! you may save me—you may do more than that—I mean not my life, I heed the death of my existence as little as that of the passing day; but you may save my honour, your friend’s honour.”
“How? tell me how? I would do anything,” replied Aubrey.
“I need but little—my life ebbs apace—I cannot explain the whole—but if you would conceal all you know of me, my honour were free from stain in the world’s mouth—and if my death were unknown for some time in England—I—I—but life.”
“It shall not be known.”
“Swear!” cried the dying man, raising himself with exultant violence. “Swear by all your soul reveres, by all your nature fears, swear that, for a year and a day you will not impart your knowledge of my crimes or death to any living being in any way, whatever may happen, or whatever you may see.”
His eyes seemed bursting from their sockets: “I swear!” said Aubrey; he sunk laughing upon his pillow, and breathed no more.
Aubrey retired to rest, but did not sleep; the many circumstances attending his acquaintance with this man rose upon his mind, and he knew not why; when he remembered his oath a cold shivering came over him, as if from the presentiment of something horrible awaiting him. Rising early in the morning, he was about to enter the hovel in which he had left the corpse, when a robber met him, and informed him that it was no longer there, having been conveyed by himself and comrades, upon his retiring, to the pinnacle of a neighbouring mount, according to a promise they had given his lordship, that it should be exposed to the first cold ray of the moon that rose after his death. Aubrey astonished, and taking several of the men, determined to go and bury it upon the spot where it lay. But, when he had mounted to the summit he found no trace of either the corpse or the clothes, though the robbers swore they pointed out the identical rock on which they had laid the body. For a time his mind was bewildered in conjectures, but he at last returned, convinced that they had buried the corpse for the sake of the clothes.
Weary of a country in which he had met with such terrible misfortunes, and in which all apparently conspired to heighten that superstitious melancholy that had seized upon his mind, he resolved to leave it, and soon arrived at Smyrna. While waiting for a vessel to convey him to Otranto, or to Naples, he occupied himself in arranging those effects he had with him belonging to Lord Ruthven. Amongst other things there was a case containing several weapons of offence, more or less adapted to ensure the death of the victim. There were several daggers and yataghans. Whilst turning them over, and examining their curious forms, what was his surprise at finding a sheath apparently ornamented in the same style as the dagger discovered in the fatal hut—he shuddered—hastening to gain further proof, he found the weapon, and his horror may be imagined when he discovered that it fitted, though peculiarly shaped, the sheath he held in his hand. His eyes seemed to need no further certainty—they seemed gazing to be bound to the dagger; yet still he wished to disbelieve; but the particular form, the same varying tints upon the haft and sheath were alike in splendour on both, and left no room for doubt; there were also drops of blood on each.
He left Smyrna, and on his way home, at Rome, his first inquiries were concerning the lady he had attempted to snatch from Lord Ruthven’s seductive arts. Her parents were in distress, their fortune ruined, and she had not been heard of since the departure of his lordship. Aubrey’s mind became almost broken under so many repeated horrors; he was afraid that this lady had fallen a victim to the destroyer of Ianthe. He became morose and silent; and his only occupation consisted in urging the speed of the postilions, as if he were going to save the life of someone he held dear. He arrived at Calais; a breeze, which seemed obedient to his will, soon wafted him to the English shores; and he hastened to the mansion of his fathers, and there, for a moment, appeared to lose, in the embraces and caresses of his sister, all memory of the past. If she before, by her infantine caresses, had gained his affection, now that the woman began to appear, she was still more attaching as a companion.
Miss Aubrey had not that winning grace which gains the gaze and applause of the drawing-room assemblies. There was none of that light brilliancy which only exists in the heated atmosphere of a crowded apartment. Her blue eye was never lit up by the levity of the mind beneath. There was a melancholy charm about it which did not seem to arise from misfortune, but from some feeling within, that appeared to indicate a soul conscious of a brighter realm. Her step was not that light footing, which strays where’er a butterfly or a colour may attract—it was sedate and pensive. When alone, her face was never brightened by the smile of joy; but when her brother breathed to her his affection, and would in her presence forget those griefs she knew destroyed his rest, who would have exchanged her smile for that of the voluptuary? It seemed as if those eyes—that face were then playing in the light of their own native sphere. She was yet only eighteen, and had not been presented to the world, it having been thought by her guardians more fit that her presentation should be delayed until her brother’s return from the continent, when he might be her protector. It was now, therefore, resolved that the next drawing-room, which was fast approaching, should be the epoch of her entry into the “busy scene.” Aubrey would rather have remained in the mansion of his fathers, and fed upon the melancholy which overpowered him. He could not feel interest about the frivolities of fashionable strangers, when his mind had been so torn by the events he had witnessed; but he determined to sacrifice his own comfort to the protection of his sister. They soon arrived in town, and prepared for the next day, which had been announced as a drawing-room.
The crowd was excessive—a drawing-room had not been held for a long time, and all who were anxious to bask in the smile of royalty, hastened thither. Aubrey was there with his sister. While he was standing in a corner by himself, heedless of all around him, engaged in the remembrance that the first time he had seen Lord Ruthven was in that very place—he felt himself suddenly seized by the arm, and a voice he recognized too well, sounded in his ear—“Remember your oath.” He had hardly courage to turn, fearful of seeing a spectre that would blast him, when he perceived, at a little distance, the same figure which had attracted his notice on this spot upon his first entry into society. He gazed till his limbs almost refusing to bear their weight, he was obliged to take the arm of a friend, and forcing a passage through the crowd, he threw himself into his carriage, and was driven home. He paced the room with hurried steps, and fixed his hands upon his head, as if he were afraid his thoughts were bursting from his brain. Lord Ruthven again before him—circumstances started up in dreadful array—the dagger—his oath.—He roused himself, he could not believe it possible—the dead rise again!—He thought his imagination had conjured up the image his mind was resting upon. It was impossible that it could be real—he determined, therefore, to go again into society; for though he attempted to ask concerning Lord Ruthven, the name hung upon his lips, and he could not succeed in gaining information. He went a few nights after with his sister to the assembly of a near relation. Leaving her under the protection of a matron, he retired into a recess, and there gave himself up to his own devouring thoughts. Perceiving, at last, that many were leaving, he roused himself, and entering another room, found his sister surrounded by several, apparently in earnest conversation; he attempted to pass and get near her, when one, whom he requested to move, turned round, and revealed to him those features he most abhorred. He sprang forward, seized his sister’s arm, and, with hurried step, forced her towards the street: at the door he found himself impeded by the crowd of servants who were waiting for their lords; and while he was engaged in passing them, he again heard that voice whisper close to him—“Remember your oath!”—He did not dare to turn, but, hurrying his sister, soon reached home.
Aubrey became almost distracted. If before his mind had been absorbed by one subject, how much more completely was it engrossed, now that the certainty of the monster’s living again pressed upon his thoughts. His sister’s attentions were now unheeded, and it was in vain that she intreated him to explain to her what had caused his abrupt conduct. He only uttered a few words, and those terrified her. The more he thought, the more he was bewildered. His oath startled him;—was he then to allow this monster to roam, bearing ruin upon his breath, amidst all he held dear, and not avert its progress? His very sister might have been touched by him. But even if he were to break his oath, and disclose his suspicions, who would believe him? He thought of employing his own hand to free the world from such a wretch; but death, he remembered, had been already mocked. For days he remained in this state; shut up in his room, he saw no one, and ate only when his sister came, who, with eyes streaming with tears, besought him, for her sake, to support nature. At last, no longer capable of bearing stillness and solitude, he left his house, roamed from street to street, anxious to fly that image which haunted him. His dress became neglected, and he wandered, as often exposed to the noonday sun as to the midnight damps. He was no longer to be recognized; at first he returned with the evening to the house; but at last he laid him down to rest wherever fatigue overtook him. His sister, anxious for his safety, employed people to follow him; but they were soon distanced by him who fled from a pursuer swifter than any—from thought. His conduct, however, suddenly changed. Struck with the idea that he left by his absence the whole of his friends, with a fiend amongst them, of whose presence they were unconscious, he determined to enter again into society, and watch him closely, anxious to forewarn, in spite of his oath, all whom Lord Ruthven approached with intimacy. But when he entered into a room, his haggard and suspicious looks were so striking, his inward shudderings so visible, that his sister was at last obliged to beg of him to abstain from seeking, for her sake, a society which affected him so strongly. When, however, remonstrance proved unavailing, the guardians thought proper to interpose, and, fearing that his mind was becoming alienated, they thought it high time to resume again that trust which had been before imposed upon them by Aubrey’s parents.
Desirous of saving him from the injuries and sufferings he had daily encountered in his wanderings, and of preventing him from exposing to the general eye those marks of what they considered folly, they engaged a physician to reside in the house, and take constant care of him. He hardly appeared to notice it, so completely was his mind absorbed by one terrible subject. His incoherence became at last so great, that he was confined to his chamber. There he would often lie for days, incapable of being roused. He had become emaciated, his eyes had attained a glassy lustre;—the only sign of affection and recollection remaining displayed itself upon the entry of his sister; then he would sometimes start, and, seizing her hands, with looks that severely afflicted her, he would desire her not to touch him. “Oh, do not touch him—if your love for me is aught, do not go near him!” When, however, she inquired to whom he referred, his only answer was, “True! true!” and again he sank into a state, whence not even she could rouse him. This lasted many months: gradually, however, as the year was passing, his incoherences became less frequent, and his mind threw off a portion of its gloom, whilst his guardians observed, that several times in the day he would count upon his fingers a definite number, and then smile.
The time had nearly elapsed, when, upon the last day of the year, one of his guardians entering his room, began to converse with his physician upon the melancholy circumstance of Aubrey’s being in so awful a situation, when his sister was going next day to be married. Instantly Aubrey’s attention was attracted; he asked anxiously to whom. Glad of this mark of returning intellect, of which they feared he had been deprived, they mentioned the name of the Earl of Marsden. Thinking this was a young Earl whom he had met with in society, Aubrey seemed pleased, and astonished them still more by his expressing his intention to be present at the nuptials, and desiring to see his sister. They answered not, but in a few minutes his sister was with him. He was apparently again capable of being affected by the influence of her lovely smile; for he pressed her to his breast, and kissed her cheek, wet with tears, flowing at the thought of her brother’s being once more alive to the feelings of affection. He began to speak with all his wonted warmth, and to congratulate her upon her marriage with a person so distinguished for rank and every accomplishment; when he suddenly perceived a locket upon her breast; opening it, what was his surprise at beholding the features of the monster who had so long influenced his life. He seized the portrait in a paroxysm of rage, and trampled it under foot. Upon her asking him why he thus destroyed the resemblance of her future husband, he looked as if he did not understand her—then seizing her hands, and gazing on her with a frantic expression of countenance, he bade her swear that she would never wed this monster, for he—But he could not advance—it seemed as if that voice again bade him remember his oath—he turned suddenly round, thinking Lord Ruthven was near him but saw no one. In the meantime the guardians and physician, who had heard the whole, and thought this was but a return of his disorder, entered, and forcing him from Miss Aubrey, desired her to leave him. He fell upon his knees to them, he implored, he begged of them to delay but for one day. They, attributing this to the insanity they imagined had taken possession of his mind, endeavoured to pacify him, and retired.
Lord Ruthven had called the morning after the drawing-room, and had been refused with everyone else. When he heard of Aubrey’s ill health, he readily understood himself to be the cause of it; but when he learned that he was deemed insane, his exultation and pleasure could hardly be concealed from those among whom he had gained this information. He hastened to the house of his former companion, and, by constant attendance, and the pretence of great affection for the brother and interest in his fate, he gradually won the ear of Miss Aubrey. Who could resist his power? His tongue had dangers and toils to recount—could speak of himself as of an individual having no sympathy with any being on the crowded earth, save with her to whom he addressed himself;—could tell how, since he knew her, his existence, had begun to seem worthy of preservation, if it were merely that he might listen to her soothing accents;—in fine, he knew so well how to use the serpent’s art, or such was the will of fate, that he gained her affections. The title of the elder branch falling at length to him, he obtained an important embassy, which served as an excuse for hastening the marriage, (in spite of her brother’s deranged state,) which was to take place the very day before his departure for the continent.
Aubrey, when he was left by the physician and his guardians, attempted to bribe the servants, but in vain. He asked for pen and paper; it was given him; he wrote a letter to his sister, conjuring her, as she valued her own happiness, her own honour, and the honour of those now in the grave, who once held her in their arms as their hope and the hope of their house, to delay but for a few hours that marriage, on which he denounced the most heavy curses. The servants promised they would deliver it; but giving it to the physician, he thought it better not to harass any more the mind of Miss Aubrey by, what he considered, the ravings of a maniac. Night passed on without rest to the busy inmates of the house; and Aubrey heard, with a horror that may more easily be conceived than described, the notes of busy preparation. Morning came, and the sound of carriages broke upon his ear. Aubrey grew almost frantic. The curiosity of the servants at last overcame their vigilance, they gradually stole away, leaving him in the custody of an helpless old woman. He seized the opportunity, with one bound was out of the room, and in a moment found himself in the apartment where all were nearly assembled. Lord Ruthven was the first to perceive him: he immediately approached, and, taking his arm by force, hurried him from the room, speechless with rage. When on the staircase, Lord Ruthven whispered in his ear—“Remember your oath, and know, if not my bride today, your sister is dishonoured. Women are frail!” So saying, he pushed him towards his attendants, who, roused by the old woman, had come in search of him. Aubrey could no longer support himself; his rage not finding vent, had broken a blood-vessel, and he was conveyed to bed. This was not mentioned to his sister, who was not present when he entered, as the physician was afraid of agitating her. The marriage was solemnized, and the bride and bridegroom left London.
Aubrey’s weakness increased; the effusion of blood produced symptoms of the near approach of death. He desired his sister’s guardians might be called, and when the midnight hour had struck, he related composedly what the reader has perused—he died immediately after.
The guardians hastened to protect Miss Aubrey; but when they arrived, it was too late. Lord Ruthven had disappeared, and Aubrey’s sister had glutted the thirst of a vampire!
Considering how likely we all are to be blown to pieces by it within the next five years, the atomic bomb has not roused so much discussion as might have been expected. The newspapers have published numerous diagrams, not very helpful to the average man, of protons and neutrons doing their stuff, and there has been much reiteration of the useless statement that the bomb “ought to be put under international control.” But curiously little has been said, at any rate in print, about the question that is of most urgent interest to all of us, namely: “How difficult are these things to manufacture?”
Such information as we – that is, the big public – possess on this subject has come to us in a rather indirect way, apropos of President Truman’s decision not to hand over certain secrets to the USSR. Some months ago, when the bomb was still only a rumour, there was a widespread belief that splitting the atom was merely a problem for the physicists, and that when they had solved it a new and devastating weapon would be within reach of almost everybody. (At any moment, so the rumour went, some lonely lunatic in a laboratory might blow civilisation to smithereens, as easily as touching off a firework.)
Had that been true, the whole trend of history would have been abruptly altered. The distinction between great states and small states would have been wiped out, and the power of the State over the individual would have been greatly weakened. However, it appears from President Truman’s remarks, and various comments that have been made on them, that the bomb is fantastically expensive and that its manufacture demands an enormous industrial effort, such as only three or four countries in the world are capable of making. This point is of cardinal importance, because it may mean that the discovery of the atomic bomb, so far from reversing history, will simply intensify the trends which have been apparent for a dozen years past.
It is a commonplace that the history of civilisation is largely the history of weapons. In particular, the connection between the discovery of gunpowder and the overthrow of feudalism by the bourgeoisie has been pointed out over and over again. And though I have no doubt exceptions can be brought forward, I think the following rule would be found generally true: that ages in which the dominant weapon is expensive or difficult to make will tend to be ages of despotism, whereas when the dominant weapon is cheap and simple, the common people have a chance. Thus, for example, tanks, battleships and bombing planes are inherently tyrannical weapons, while rifles, muskets, long-bows and hand-grenades are inherently democratic weapons. A complex weapon makes the strong stronger, while a simple weapon – so long as there is no answer to it – gives claws to the weak.
The great age of democracy and of national self-determination was the age of the musket and the rifle. After the invention of the flintlock, and before the invention of the percussion cap, the musket was a fairly efficient weapon, and at the same time so simple that it could be produced almost anywhere. Its combination of qualities made possible the success of the American and French revolutions, and made a popular insurrection a more serious business than it could be in our own day. After the musket came the breech-loading rifle. This was a comparatively complex thing, but it could still be produced in scores of countries, and it was cheap, easily smuggled and economical of ammunition. Even the most backward nation could always get hold of rifles from one source or another, so that Boers, Bulgars, Abyssinians, Moroccans – even Tibetans – could put up a fight for their independence, sometimes with success. But thereafter every development in military technique has favoured the State as against the individual, and the industrialised country as against the backward one. There are fewer and fewer foci of power. Already, in 1939, there were only five states capable of waging war on the grand scale, and now there are only three – ultimately, perhaps, only two. This trend has been obvious for years, and was pointed out by a few observers even before 1914. The one thing that might reverse it is the discovery of a weapon – or, to put it more broadly, of a method of fighting – not dependent on huge concentrations of industrial plant.
From various symptoms one can infer that the Russians do not yet possess the secret of making the atomic bomb; on the other hand, the consensus of opinion seems to be that they will possess it within a few years. So we have before us the prospect of two or three monstrous super-states, each possessed of a weapon by which millions of people can be wiped out in a few seconds, dividing the world between them. It has been rather hastily assumed that this means bigger and bloodier wars, and perhaps an actual end to the machine civilisation. But suppose – and really this the likeliest development – that the surviving great nations make a tacit agreement never to use the atomic bomb against one another? Suppose they only use it, or the threat of it, against people who are unable to retaliate? In that case, we are back where we were before, the only difference being that power is concentrated in still fewer hands and that the outlook for subject peoples and oppressed classes is still more hopeless.
When James Burnham wrote The Managerial Revolution it seemed probable to many Americans that the Germans would win the European end of the war, and it was therefore natural to assume that Germany and not Russia would dominate the Eurasian land mass, while Japan would remain master of East Asia. This was a miscalculation, but it does not affect the main argument. For Burnham’s geographical picture of the new world has turned out to be correct. More and more obviously the surface of the earth is being parcelled off into three great empires, each self-contained and cut off from contact with the outer world, and each ruled, under one disguise or another, by a self-elected oligarchy. The haggling as to where the frontiers are to be drawn is still going on, and will continue for some years, and the third of the three super-states – East Asia, dominated by China – is still potential rather than actual. But the general drift is unmistakable, and every scientific discovery of recent years has accelerated it.
We were once told that the aeroplane had “abolished frontiers”; actually, it is only since the aeroplane became a serious weapon that frontiers have become definitely impassable. The radio was once expected to promote international understanding and co-operation; it has turned out to be a means of insulating one nation from another. The atomic bomb may complete the process by robbing the exploited classes and peoples of all power to revolt, and at the same time putting the possessors of the bomb on a basis of military equality. Unable to conquer one another, they are likely to continue ruling the world between them, and it is difficult to see how the balance can be upset except by slow and unpredictable demographic changes.
For forty or fifty years past, Mr. H. G. Wells and others have been warning us that man is in danger of destroying himself with his own weapons, leaving the ants or some other gregarious species to take over. Anyone who has seen the ruined cities of Germany will find this notion at least thinkable. Nevertheless, looking at the world as a whole, the drift for many decades has been not towards anarchy but towards the reimposition of slavery. We may be heading not for general breakdown but for an epoch as horribly stable as the slave empires of antiquity. James Burnham’s theory has been much discussed, but few people have yet considered its ideological implications – that is, the kind of world-view, the kind of beliefs, and the social structure that would probably prevail in a state which was at once unconquerable and in a permanent state of “cold war” with its neighbours.
Had the atomic bomb turned out to be something as cheap and easily manufactured as a bicycle or an alarm clock, it might well have plunged us back into barbarism, but it might, on the other hand, have meant the end of national sovereignty and of the highly-centralised police State. If, as seems to be the case, it is a rare and costly object as difficult to produce as a battleship, it is likelier to put an end to large-scale wars at the cost of prolonging indefinitely a “peace that is no peace”.
Tribune, 19 October 1945
If you're old enough to remember the early seasons of the Simpsons, you'll probably remember an exchange between Principal Skinner and an unusually exasperated Apu. Here it is in all its glory.
Apu does an excellent job of bursting Skinner's bubble, it's a terrible idea in direct competition with a financial and cultural juggernaut in its prime. However, at no point in his tirade does Apu cite copyright, that is because you cannot copyright an idea. Despite the existence of Jurassic Park, Skinner is free to write a novel or a script or a comic or any other format he chooses about a futuristic theme park where Dinosaurs are brought back to life through cloning experiments. The concepts of Dinosaurs, theme parks and cloning are all fair game, he would get some opposition if he titled his masterpiece Jurassic Park over trademarking, but that would have to playout in the courts titles and names aren't protected as such which is why there so many films with Exorcist in the title.
If Billy and the Cloneasuarus either got to a stage where it could be published, Skinner would enjoy the experience of trying to find an agent and a publisher, who almost certainly would strong-arm him into changing the title to anything more marketable. The concepts themselves are fair game, anyone can make a movie about an aggressive Alien life form attacking the crew members, Alien knockoffs are quite common, The Raid, and Judge Dredd, both feature a police officer locked inside an apartment complex controlled by a ganglord and have to fight their way to the top, and both are excellent action movies to boot. Both were released without a lengthy and exhausting legal battle between each others owners over IP rights.
So, you might be wondering what exactly does copyright, well copyright. It's the story, the specific story and its combination of concepts, characters and events and the point of view of that author. You make your own story up on the same premise, you're just not allowed to actively copy an existing work and pass it off as your own. So, to take a hypothetical example Billy and the Cloneasaurus, Billy the young protagonist gets to go to a futuristic theme park where Dinosaurs are brought back to life via some bioengineering process, the book ends with Billy befriending the Cloneasaurus and eager for the chance to return to the theme park. That is a unique if not very good story that differs substantially from Jurassic Park. So long as Skinner didn't just copy Crichton's Jurassic Park, and then slap on that title he would face no opposition to publication on that front, he would face plenty of opposition for the reason Apu gave, the title's awful and there isn't a market for it.
The reason I made this post is to clarify a misconception about copyright, as bad as it is, it isn't that Draconian, not yet at least. A common post I see on public domain and creative writing message boards is asking for "free to use versions of X" and while the discussion started by these questions can sometimes bring attention to an underrated character or story It's not necessary, just make up your own version. Public Domain and Creative Commons media are tools to be used, but that doesn't mean you're restricted to them, you can make your own superheroes despite DC and Marvel existing, you can animate talking animals without getting the go-ahead from Disney and whoever owns Warner Brothers now.
