029: The Vampire Next Door ... venturing into the vaults ... a fish out of water in the Smithfield slum ... and yet another beleaguered ballet-girl!

IN WHICH —

0:13:00: THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON, Prologue and Ch. 1:

• We are introduced to a very young, delicate youth in riding attire, trying to find his way home across Smithfield Market as a terrible storm threatens. Ducking into a doorway to escape the rain, he finds himself inside an abandoned house. Then he hears footsteps – someone is coming in after him …

0:35:20: VARNEY THE VAMPYRE, Ch. 13:

• Henry Bannerworth calls upon his new neighbor, Sir Francis Varney, to talk about selling or leasing Bannerworth Hall to him … and when they see him they are shocked to discover that he is the exact image of the sinister portrait that hangs in Flora’s bedchamber …

1:03:20: SWEENEY TODD, Ch. 51:

• We see Sir Richard Blunt meeting up with some authorities from St. Dunstan’s Church for a late-night exploration of the vaults below, with an eye toward solving the mystery of the horrid smell that’s been filling the church. Sir Richard seems to think he knows what they’re going to find … we’ll see!

PLUS —

• Learn what "Count cards," "Cousin Betties," "Nubbing Coves," "Craping Curls," "Sluicery," "Index," Autem Bawlers," "Tulips of the Goes," "Free and Easy," and "Bits of Blood" meant, in highway-robber slang!

Join Professor Flash, a.k.a. Finn J.D. John. for a 90-minute spree through the story papers of old London! Grab a flicker of blue ruin, unload your stumps, and let's go!

Episode Transcript

(00:14):
A tip top evening to all you count cards, Cousin Betty's and
nights of the Brush and Moon. I'm your host, Finn JD John,
known among the nubbing coves and creping curls around Tyburn
Tree as Professor Flash, welcoming you back to the
chafing crib. It's another Saturday night and
that means it's time for the Penny Dreadful Story Hour

(00:36):
podcast. So take a load off your stampers
and top off your tumblers with your local sluiceries tip top
tipple and swivel your index in my direction because another big
beautiful boatload of crammers in the form of the Penny
Dreadful Story Hour is upon us. Like Big Ben on 1/2 gallon of
mauled Porter. The Penny Dreadful Story Hour is

(00:58):
the podcast that carries you back to the sooty, foggy streets
of early Victorian London When the latest batch of the story
papers hits the streets. Not the fancy ones, that.
Cost a whole. Shilling and have people like
Dickens writing in them, but thecheap unruly ones that the
autumn Ballers and tulips of thego's call penny dreadfuls.

(01:19):
That's right, the good stuff that like a quarter or two of
Clear Blue Vite may be a little rough, but does the job.
Now before we get started, I have another announcement.
I have to change the show arounda little more.
The problem is going through 2 episodes a week as I started
planning in preparation to do last week, I quickly realized it

(01:41):
was more than I could take on. And I've been here before.
I've actually been an active podcaster for a full quarter of
my life. Now, I'm not one of the OG
people who started in the naughties, people like Dan
Carlin, but I'm not far from that either.
My first episode went out in 2011, but in 2014 I launched

(02:02):
something called the Friedrich Wilhelm Fondunst Library of
Forgotten Worlds. This was a fiction podcast on
the lines of Welcome to Night Vale, wrapped around a reading
of a chapter or short piece fromone of the famous pulp writers,
Lovecraft, Howard Burroughs, et cetera.
The meta story involved a terrestrial AM radio
transmission from a phantom stone tower in Dusseldorf, circa

(02:26):
1929. It got a bit of momentum going,
but excited by that obvious progress, I made a critical
error. I increased my output beyond
what I could sustain. At my peak, I was putting out a
new episode every single day. It just couldn't be sustained.
Soon I was regarding the projectwith dread as a chore rather

(02:46):
than an inspiration and a pleasure.
And then came the coup de Grasse.
And what a coup de Grasse it was.
In fact, it was kind of brutal, but it's going to, you're going
to think I'm humble bragging. And maybe I am to some extent,
because, well, let me just tell you, someone posted a review on
the Google Podcast website referring to my narrative

(03:06):
delivery. As quote, the second coming of
Vincent Price. To this day, this is still the
highest and most astonishing compliment anyone has ever paid
me but it. It broke me.
It terrified me, actually. I am still not exactly sure why.
Somehow I just wasn't ready for that level, the level of output

(03:27):
that this compliment implied I was delivering at.
And it was like, what if this isa fluke and I've created
something I'll never be able to duplicate, I'll never be able to
live up to? Like I like I said, I don't
know. And yeah, maybe all that was
bullshit. Most likely that is bullshit
because it was only one review after all.
But it scared me and I reacted by deleting the whole podcast

(03:51):
and memory holding it. I didn't want to be held to that
standard. They still have the audio files,
but they've been scrubbed off the servers online.
Maybe someday I'll do something with them, but I don't know.
Even thinking about it jacks my blood pressure to this day.
So the process of launching and building this podcast has
reminded me a lot of that experience.

(04:12):
And above all, I really want to make sure I don't repeat the
same mistake. So I'll be advancing slowly and
cautiously with this show. I'm not going to jump into a
crazy twice a week schedule and hope for the best like I did
last time. No, I'm going to start this one
off on a bi weekly cycle and that may change down the line as
I get more efficient. But for now, I need to be

(04:33):
supplying a minimum viable product while I feel out my
capabilities and capacity for commitment.
So this week we're going to havethe 1840s stories, and next week
rather. Than on Wednesday of this.
Coming week we'll have the 1860sone, then we'll be back to the
1840s stories the week after that.

(04:53):
As partial compensation for thischange, I am adding yet another
dreadful to this line up, bringing the total to seven.
And I need to stop looking at these because there's a real
hazard that I'll find another one that I just can't resist.
In this case, it's a spectacular1 from 1865 titled Rose Mortimer
or The Ballet Girls Revenge. Oh my gosh, you guys.

(05:16):
Yes, I know another ballet girl.Are we ever in a rut here?
But I predict that you are goingto enjoy this one thoroughly.
I'll introduce it to you next. Week.
Meanwhile, tonight, as noted, isan 1840s edition bringing you a
trio of true crammers from the early years of the penny
Dreadful era. From the time when Victoria was

(05:37):
new on the throne and the culture was just starting to
thaw and change. From the kind of stone hearted
bro culture of the Regency yearsinto something more empathic,
something less callous. Something that would at least
acknowledge inequality and unfairness and work, however
slowly, to redress it. More on that topic in a red hot

(05:57):
minute when I introduce our newest penny dreadful to you.
Speaking of which, it is the newest addition to our program,
which started its run in 1844. It's the introduction and
chapter one of The Mysteries of London by George WM Reynolds.
We're introduced to a very young, delicate looking youth in

(06:18):
riding attire trying to thread his way home across Smithfield
Market as a terrible storm threatens.
Ducking into a doorway to escapethe rain, he finds himself
inside an abandoned house. And then he hears footsteps.
Someone is coming in after him. After that, we'll have Chapter
13 of Varney the Vampire or The Feast of Blood, which started

(06:39):
publication in 1845 in the handsof James Malcolm Reimer.
In it, Henry Bannerworth calls upon his new neighbor, Sir
Francis Varney to talk to him about selling or leasing
Bannerworth Hall to him, and they are shocked to discover
that he is the exact image of the sinister portrait that hangs
in Flora's bed chamber. Finally, we'll Polish you off

(07:01):
for the evening with Chapter 51 of The String of Pearls or The
Barber of Fleet Street by James Malcolm Reimer, also in which
started its publication run in 1846.
We'll see Sir Richard Blunt meeting up with some authorities
from Saint Dunstan's Church for a late night exploration of the
vaults below, with an eye towards solving the mystery of

(07:22):
the horrid smell that's been filling the church.
Sir Richard seems to think he knows the what they're going to
find. I guess we'll see.
So let's get started. The Flash can't word for this
reading is free and easy, as in a free and easy.
I started in singing Danny Boy, a free and easy after Captain
Lushington had got a pretty snughold on the head and I don't

(07:43):
think I'll ever live it down. Do you know this one?
If not, take a guess and we'll get the full story at the end of
our reading from The Mysteries of London.
Speaking of which, since we are going to be starting Mysteries
of London today instead of the usual summary of last week's
action, I want to introduce it. George Reynolds was a bit of a

(08:04):
man ahead of his time. He has a real mid to late
Victorian seriousness about the social evils of his day.
But it was a bit of a daring step to take in 1844 to offer
overt criticism of the contrast between the depths of poverty
and the heights of wealth and comfort.
The prologue runs on for quite some time, and it most

(08:24):
definitely comes off like what our old friend, the old medical
student would characterize as inthe shape of a sermon.
Luckily, it's not super long andit's not our society it's
indicting, but its seriousness forms really interesting
contrast with the Corinthian Tomand Jerry Hawthorne capers that
Pierce Egan was writing about just a dozen years previously.

(08:46):
And I actually think it was intended to, you know, when I
was picking Penny dreadfuls for this project, I considered
briefly using Pierce Egan's work, specifically Life in
London, as one of them. I decided not to, and that was
for several reasons. The chief one was that they're
not written in a way that works very well when read aloud.

(09:07):
I believe they were designed to be consumed by an audience of
silent readers, that is to say afully literate and mostly middle
class aspirants to the lifestylethat they describe, the
lifestyle of super rich Corinthian Tom squiring his
wealthy rural cousin Jerry around London showing him life.
As you are probably aware, when a Regency Roysterer like one of

(09:30):
Pierce Egan's high flying Corinthians says life, he means
something more akin to what we call high life.
So the title of his work does not mean existence in London,
but rather something more like rambunctious party times in
London. I can't very efficiently explain
why I believe that life in London was created from middle
class and upper middle class toffs without a visual, so I'll

(09:52):
encourage you to go to Google itand take a look at the way it's
written. Eagan's typography was a
distinct stylistic choice, and it's really unlike anything from
before or after his time. It was always the same, with
copious use of italics and smallcaps and underlining and capital
letters seemingly at random. But after a little while you

(10:13):
figure out what he's doing. It's text decorations intended
to draw emphasis to the words themselves rather than to give a
reader cues for delivering them.These were intended to be read
to oneself. And not to others.
Life in London was not, I believe, for the lower orders
any more than the map and self-guided walking tour at your

(10:34):
local zoo is for the animals. The other thing is that Egan's
stories show what to modernize as a shocking lack of empathy.
I get the appeal, and absolutelyI am here for the high spirited
high jinks, flirting with the pretty Cypriens, singing a
frisky song about gin sweet gin,Maybe boxing a Charlie too
afterwards, getting thrown in the watch house and having to

(10:56):
bail out of jail. That all seems really fun.
But there are other aspects to Egan's work that are really
uncomfortable for me and I suspect that you will feel the
same. Chief among these is a
callousness which I think goes with the territory.
Egan was primarily a sports writer, and that was an age
which sports consisted largely of gratuitous violence that

(11:18):
participants placed wagers on things like baiting bears with
dogs, setting small dogs on captive rats, cock fights, and
of course, bare knuckle London rules prize fighting.
One of Tom and Jerry's favorite activities in life in London is
scampering around the slums of London, sometimes disguised as
beggars, using poor people as basically NPCS and costume props

(11:40):
for their rich boy fun. Basically, Tom and Jerry use
beggars and poor slum dwellers the way that American audiences
used to use black characters in the old minstrel shows.
I'm just not here for that. In what probably is an effort to
ease the cognitive dissonance ofhaving your main characters
frolicking blithely through suchobvious scenes of squalor and

(12:02):
want, Egan makes the case that the beggars of London are
actually making all kinds of great money doing it, Augmented
by the proceeds of petty theft and what not, of course, and
that they're just dressing in rags and going without shoes
because it's good for business. I don't want to get too deep
into Life in London, as it's likely kind of off track here,
but I do think it's pretty likely that Reynolds wanted to

(12:24):
at least throw a reference off to that somewhat similarly
titled book, right? Life in London, The Mysteries of
London. And, you know, the more you
familiarize yourself with life in London, not that I recommend
doing so, but the more you do, the more the Prologue of
Mysteries of London sounds like a direct rebuttal to it.

(12:44):
And I would say a devastating one at that.
When I first read it, it actually did make me feel a
little dirty for having enjoyed Egan's stories about, you know,
Charlie boxing and sweat and gin, sweet gin and the Cypriens
and whatnot. But yeah, let's go ahead and get
started with the prologue now, and I'll talk a little bit more
about it afterwards. Prologue.

(13:11):
Between the 10th and 13th centuries civilization withdrew
from Egypt and Syria, rested fora little space at
Constantinople, and then passed away to the western climes of
Europe. From that period these climes
have been the grand laboratory in which civilization has
wrought out refinement in every art and every science, and

(13:32):
whence it has diffused its benefits over the earth.
It has taught commerce to plow the waves of every sea with the
adventurous keel. It has enabled handfuls of
disciplined warriors to subdue the mighty armaments of Oriental
Princess, and its daring sons have planted its banners amid
the eternal ice of the poles. It has cut down the primitive

(13:54):
forests of America, carried trade into the interior of
Africa, annihilated time and distance by the aid of steam,
and now contemplates how to force a passage through Suez and
Panama. The bounties of civilization are
at present almost everywhere recognized.
Nevertheless, for centuries has civilization has established,

(14:16):
and for centuries will it maintain its headquarters in the
great cities of Western Europe. And with civilization does vice
go hand in hand. Amongst these cities there is
one in which contrasts of a strange nature exist.
The most unbounded wealth is theneighbor of the most hedges.
Poverty, the most gorgeous pomp is placed in strong relief by

(14:39):
the most deplorable squalor. The most seducing luxury is only
separated by a narrow wall from the most appalling misery.
The crumbs which fall from the tables of the rich would appear
delicious violence to starving millions.
Yet those millions obtained themnot.
In that city there are in all districts 5 prominent buildings.

(15:01):
The church in which the pious pray, the Jinn palace, to which
the wretched poor resort to drown their sorrows.
The pawnbrokers, where miserablecreatures pledge their raiment,
and their children's raiment even unto the last rag, to
obtain the means of purchasing food, and the last too often
intoxicating drink. The prison where the victims of

(15:23):
a vitiated condition of society expiate the crimes to which they
have been driven by starvation and despair.
And the workhouse to which the destitute, the aged, and the
friendless hasten to lay down their aching heads and die.
And congregated together in one district of this city, in an
assemblage of palaces, whence emanate by night the delicious

(15:45):
sounds of music. Within whose walls the foot
treads upon rich carpets, whose sideboards are covered with
plate, whose Cellars contain thechoicest nectar of the temperate
and torrid zones, and whose inmates recline beneath velvet
canopies, feast at each meal upon the collated produce of
four worlds, and scarcely have to breathe A wish before they

(16:06):
find it gratified. Alas, how appalling are these
contrasts. And as if to hide its infamy
from the face of heaven, this city wears upon its brow an
everlasting cloud, which even the fresh fan of the morning
fails to disperse for a single hour each.
Day. And in one delicious spot of
that mighty city, whose thousandtowers point upwards from

(16:30):
horizon to horizon as an index of its boundless magnitude,
stands the dwelling of 1 before whom all knees bow, and toward
whose royal footstool none daresapproach save with downcast eyes
and subdued voice. The entire world showers its
bounties upon the head of that favoured mortal.
A nation of millions does homageto the throne, where on that

(16:52):
being is exalted. The dominion of this personage,
so supremely blessed, extends over an empire on which the sun
never sets, an empire greater than Genghis Khan achieved or
Muhammad conquered. This is the parent of a mighty
nation. And yet around that parent seat
the children crave for bread. Women press their little ones to

(17:15):
their dried up breasts in the agonies of despair.
Young delicate creatures waste their energies in toil from the
dawn of day till long past the hour of midnight, perpetuating
their unavailing labor from the hour of the brilliant sun.
To that when the dim candle sheds its light around the
attic's naked walls, and even the very pavement groans beneath

(17:37):
the weight of grief which the poor are doomed to drag over the
rough places of this city of sadcontrasts.
For in this city the daughter ofthe pier is nursed in enjoyments
and passes through an uninterrupted avenue of Felicity
from cradle to tomb, while the daughter of poverty opens her
eyes at birth upon destitution in all its most appalling

(17:58):
shapes, and at length sells her virtue for a loaf of bread.
There are but 2 words known in the moral alphabet of this great
city. For all virtues are summed up in
the one and all vices in the other.
Those words are wealth and poverty.
Crime is abundant in this city. The Lazar house, the prison, the

(18:19):
brothel, the dark alley are rifewith all kinds of enormity in
the same way as the palace, the mansion, the clubhouse, the
parliament and the Parsonage areeach and all characterized by
their different degrees and shades of vice.
But wherefore specify crime and vice by their real names, since
in this city of which we speak they are absorbed in the multi

(18:40):
significant words wealth and poverty.
Crimes borrow their comparative shade of enormity from the
people who perpetuate them. Thus it is that the wealthy may
commit all social offences with impunity, while the poor are
cast into dungeons and coerced with chains for only following
at a humble distance in the pathway of their lordly

(19:00):
precedence. From this city of strange
contrasts branch off 2 roads leading to two points totally
distinct from one another. One winds its tortuous way
through all the noise and dens of crime, chicanery,
dissipation, and voluptuousness.The other meanders amidst rocks
and wearisome acclivities, it istrue, but on the wayside are the

(19:22):
resting places of rectitude and virtue.
Along those roads 2 youths are journeying.
They have started from the same point, but one pursues the
former path, and the other the latter.
Both come from the city of fearful contrasts, and both
follow the wheels of fortune different directions.
Where is that city of fearful contrasts?

(19:44):
Who are those youths who have thus entered upon path so
opposite the one to the other? And to what destinies do those
separate roads conduct them? Chapter 1.
The old house in Smithfield. Our narrative opens at the

(20:05):
commencement of July 1831. The night was dark and stormy.
The sun had set behind huge piles of dingy purple clouds,
which, after losing the golden hue with which they were for a
while tinged, became somber and menacing.
The blue portions of the sky that here and there had appeared

(20:26):
before the sunset, were now rapidly covered over with those
murky clouds which are the hiding places of the storm, and
which seem to roll themselves together in dense and compact
masses. There they commenced the
elemental war. In the same manner do the
earthly squadrons of cavalry andmighty columns of infantry form
themselves into one collected armament, that the power of

(20:49):
their onslaught may be the more terrific and irresistible.
That canopy of dark and threatening clouds was formed
over London, and a stifling heat, which there was not a
breath of wind to allay or mitigate, permeated the streets
of the great metropolis. Everything portended an awful
storm. In the palace of the pier, then

(21:10):
the hovel of the artisan, the windows were thrown up, and at
many both men and women stood tocontemplate the scene, timid
children crowding behind them. The heat became more and more
oppressive. At length large drops of rain
fell at intervals of two or three inches apart upon the
pavement, and then a flash of lightning, like the forked

(21:32):
tongues of one of those fiery serpents of which we read in
Oriental tales of magic and enchantment, darted forth from
the black clouds overhead. At an interval of a few seconds.
The roar of the Thunder, reverberating through the arches
of heaven, now sinking, now exalting its fearful tone like
the iron wheels of a chariot rolled over a road with patches

(21:54):
of uneven pavement here and there, stunned every ear and
struck terror into many a heart,the innocent as well as the
guilty. It died away like the chariot in
the distance, and then all was solemnly still.
The interval of silence which succeeds the protracted Thunder
clap is appalling in the extreme.
A little while. And again the lightning

(22:16):
illuminated the entire vault above, and again the Thunder in
unequal tones, amongst which was1 resembling the rattling of
many vast iron bars together, awoke every echo of the
metropolis, from north to South,from east to West.
This time the dread interval of silence was interrupted suddenly
by the torrents of rain that nowdeluge the streets.

(22:40):
There was not a breath of air, and the rain fell as
perpendicularly straight as a line, but with it came a sense
of freshness and of a pure atmosphere which formed an
agreeable and cheering contrast to the previous suffocating
heat. It was like the spring of the
Oasis to the wanderer in the burning desert, but still the
lightning played and the Thunderrolled above.

(23:03):
At the first explosion of the storm, amidst the thousands of
men and women and children who were seen hastening, hit her,
and thither in all directions asif they were flying from the
plague, was one person on whose exterior none could gaze without
being inspired with a mingled sentiment of admiration and
interest. He was a youth, apparently not

(23:23):
more than 16 years of age, though taller than boys usually
are at that period of life. But the tenderness of his years
was divined by the extreme effeminacy and juvenile
loveliness of his countenance, which was as fair and delicate
as that of a young girl. His long luxuriant hair, of a
beautiful light chestnut color, and here and there, borrowing

(23:44):
dark shades from the frequent undulations in which it rolled,
flowed not only over the collar of his closely buttoned blue
frock coat, but also upon his shoulders.
Its extreme profusion, and the singular manner in which he wore
it, were, however, partially concealed by the breadth of the
brim of his hat, that was placed, as it were, entirely

(24:04):
upon the back of his head, and thus being thrown off his
countenance, and revealed the high, intelligent, and polished
forehead above which that rich hair was carefully parted.
His frock coat, which was singlebreasted and buttoned up to the
throat, set off his symmetrical and elegant figure to the
greatest advantage. His shoulders were broad, but

(24:25):
were characterized by that fine fall or slope which is so much
admired in the opposite sex. He wore spurs upon the heels of
his diminutive polished boots, and in one hand he carried a
light riding whip. But he was upon foot and alone,
and when the first flash of lightning dazzled his expressive
Hazel eyes, he was hastily traversing the foul and filthy

(24:47):
arena of Smithfield Market. An imagination poetically
inspired would suppose a similitude of a beautiful flower
upon a fetid manure heap. He cast a glance, which may
almost be termed one of a frightaround, and his cheek became
flushed. He had evidently lost his way,
and was uncertain where to obtain an asylum against the

(25:08):
coming storm. The Thunder burst above his
head, and the momentary shudder passed over his frame.
He accosted a man to inquire hisway, but the answer he received
was rude and associated with a ribald joke.
He had not courage to demand a second time the information he
sought, but with a species of haughty disdain at the

(25:28):
threatening storm and a proud reliance upon himself, proceeded
onwards at random. He even slackened his pace.
A contemptuous smile curved his lips, and the glittering white
teeth appeared, as it were, between 2 rose leaves.
His chest, which was very prominent, rose up and down
almost convulsively, for it was evident that he endeavored to

(25:48):
master conflicting feelings of vexation, alarm, and disgust,
all produced by the position in which he found himself to 1 so
young, so delicate, and so frankin appearance.
The mere fact of losing his way at night, in a disgusting
neighborhood, during an impending storm, and insulted by
a lowlife ruffian, was not the mere trifle which it would have

(26:11):
been considered by the Hardy andexperienced man of the world.
Not a public conveyance was to be seen, and the doors of all
the houses around appeared inhospitably closed, and every
moment it seemed to grow darker.The accident conducted the
interesting young stranger into that labyrinth of narrow and
dirty streets which lies in the immediate vicinity of the

(26:32):
northwestern angle of SmithfieldMarket.
It was in this horrible neighborhood that the youth was
now wandering. He was evidently shocked at the
idea that human beings could dwell in such fetid and
unwholesome dens, for he gazed with wonder, disgust, and alarm
upon the houses on either side. It seemed as if he had never

(26:52):
beheld till now a labyrinth of dwellings whose every aspect
appeared to speak of hideous poverty and fearful crime.
Meanwhile the lightning flashed and the Thunder rolled, and at
length the rain poured down in Torrance.
Obeying a mechanical impulse, the youth rushed up the steps of
a house at the end of one of those dark, narrow, and dirty

(27:12):
streets, the ominous appearance of which was every now and then
revealed to him by a light streaming from a narrow window,
or the glare of the lightning. The framework of the door
projected somewhat, and appearedto offer a partial protection
from the rain. The youth drew as closely up to
it as possible, but to his surprise it yielded behind him
and burst open. With difficulty he saved himself

(27:35):
from falling backwards into the passage with which the door
communicated. Having recovered from the sudden
alarm with which this incident had inspired him, his next
sentiment was one of pleasure, to think that he had thus found
a more secure asylum against TheTempest.
He, however, felt wearied, desperately wearied, and his was
not a frame calculated to bear up against the oppressive and

(27:58):
crushing feeling of fatigue. He determined to penetrate
amidst the profound darkness by which he was surrounded into the
dwelling, thinking that if therewere any inmates they would not
refuse him the accommodation of a chair, and if there were none,
he might find a seat upon the staircase.
He advanced along the passage and groped about.

(28:18):
His hand encountered the lock ofa door.
He opened it and entered a room.All was dark as pitch at that
moment. A flash of lightning, more than
usually vivid and prolonged, illuminated the entire scene.
The glance which he cast around was as rapid as the glare which
made objects visible to him. For a few moments, he was in a
room entirely empty, but in the middle of the floor, only three

(28:42):
feet from the spot where he stood.
There was a large. Square of jet blackness.
The lightning passed away. Utter darkness again surrounded
him, and he was unable to ascertain what that black
square, so well defined and apparent upon The Dirty floor,
could be. An indescribable sensation of
fear crept over him, and the perspiration broke out upon his

(29:05):
forehead in large drops. His knees bent beneath him, and
retreating a few steps, he leaned against the door posts
for support. He was alone in an uninhabited
house in the middle of the horrible neighborhood, and all
the fearful tales of midnight murders which he had ever heard
or read rushed to his memory. Then, by a strange but natural

(29:26):
freak of the fancy, those appalling deeds of blood and
crime were suddenly associated with that incomprehensible but
ominous black square upon the floor.
He was in the midst of this terrible waking dream, this more
than ideal nightmare, when hastysteps approached the front door
from the street, and without stopping, entered the passage.

(29:47):
The youth crept silently toward the farther end, perspiration
oozing from every pore. He felt the staircase with his
hands. The footsteps approached, and,
light as the fawn, he hurried upthe stairs.
So noiseless were his motions that his presence was not
noticed by the newcomers, who intheir turns also ascended the
staircase. The youth reached a landing and

(30:09):
hastily felt for the doors of the rooms with which it
communicated. In another moment he was in a
chamber at the back part of the house.
He closed the door and placed himself against it with all his
strength. Forgetful poor youth, that his
fragile form was unavailing withall its power against even the
single arm of a man of only ordinary strength.

(30:30):
Meanwhile, the newcomers ascended the stairs.
That's the end of today's chapters of Mysteries of London.
So this chapter is all about setting up the action for the
next chapter. So there isn't a whole lot to
comment on here, but I do want to talk about Smithfield Market.

(30:52):
Starting this story off with an obviously rich toff mincing
through the muck of Smithfield Market was a pretty bold move.
And to appreciate how bold and what a great start, you kind of
need to know a little bit about the market.
I've always thought it was weirdthat whoever started Smithfield
meets, you know, the brand that sells the cheapest breakfast
sausage in the supermarket, chose that name for their

(31:15):
business. Whoever it was cannot possibly
have ever read Dickens, because if they had, they would have
instantly realized what a terrible choice it was.
Yeah, I get it. It's named after the town of
Smithfield in Virginia. But well, as Judith Flanders
puts it in her book The Victorian City, Smithfield.
Was for the first. Half of the century a running

(31:35):
sore in the city. Dickens could hardly bear it,
but neither could he bear to leave it alone on market
mornings, he wrote, The ground was covered near the ankle, deep
with filth and mire. Smithfield Market was a
livestock market held in the middle of London.
It was awful, but it made the city a lot of money, so they
were very reluctant to let it move someplace more salutary.

(31:57):
It finally did, I believe, in the 1860s, but in 1844 it was in
full crime. The animals were packed in very
close, under conditions of greatinhumanity and extraordinary
uncleanliness. Sometimes cows would panic and
run amok and people would get hurt or killed.
And of course, the whole thing smelled like an industrial dairy
farm at all times. It was really quite awful.

(32:20):
And that's where this young man,I guess, although I have my
doubts, is lost and wandering. Speaking of those doubts, I am,
as usual, exactly 1 chapter ahead of you in this book.
I can't help but notice all the hints about this youth.
Beautiful complexion, the pearlyteeth, the gorgeous hair, the
prominent chest. If I were inclined to bet, I

(32:43):
would bet that this youth is actually a woman who has
ventured abroad in drag for somereason.
And I rather imagine the author intended for his readers to
wonder about that a little bit, too.
I'm hoping we'll learn soon. Meanwhile, coming attractions
for next week. The two newcomers will turn out
to be a pair of thieves who are using the house as a Rookery in
a place to bank stolen swag preparatory to fencing it.

(33:06):
The youth who has hidden away init learns some very interesting
further details about it, details that make it clear to
him that he will not be allowed to leave the place alive if the
bad guys figure out that he is here.
But can he get away before they discover him?
Now let's learn what a free and easy is.
Stop it in singing Danny Boy. A free and easy after Captain

(33:26):
Lushington. It got a pretty snug old on the
head. I don't think I'll ever live it
down. It's a singing club at a pub.
Also known as a harmonic meeting.
Definitely the sort of thing that one needs to have a skin
full of flammable spirits on board in order to enter into.
Typically, it would have at least one professional
performer, but everyone involvedwas expected to contribute.

(33:49):
Usually this was a group of palswho met up weekly or nightly for
purposes of drinking and socializing.
You know, to borrow a modern wisecrack, a drinking club with
a singing problem. But it really.
Ran the gamut. So now it's time for a chapter.
Of Vani the vampire or the Feastof Blood.
By James Malcolm Reimer And before we start, of course we'll

(34:10):
talk over another flash can't word or phrase, and I'm going
with bits of blood this time. Here's a quote from the old
medical student author of Hints to Men About Town, which will
probably make the meaning prettyclear.
The title Men About Town embraces all the gay world, from
the Lord who drives his own 4 bits of blood down to the humble
commoner who's six days in the week drives a hard bargain in

(34:33):
the city. All right, take a guess at the
end of our reading, if you haven't already doped it out.
We'll we'll find out if you wereright.
So last week, as you will no doubt remember, we saw poor
Charles Holland struggling with his feelings.
He could not believe such thingsas vampires existed, but if they
did, would he soon have one for a wife?
He stared at the mysterious portrait.

(34:55):
What was its significance? Could there be some hidden
meaning or hidden thing behind it?
And what was that? Scratching at the window, a
human form arises behind it. He raises a pistol.
He fires. A hole is punched in the glass,
but there's no sign of the target.
Was the vampire bulletproof? We won't find out this week, but
we will find out soon. Let's continue now with Chapter

(35:18):
13 of Varney the Vampire Chapter13.
The offer for the hall, the visit to Sir Francis Varney, the
strange resemblance A dreadful suggestion.

(35:38):
The party made a strict search through every nook and corner of
the garden, but it proved to be a fruitless 1.
Not the least trace of anyone could be found.
There was only one circumstance which was pondered over deeply
by the mall, and that was that beneath the window of the room
in which Flora and her mother sat while the brothers were on

(35:59):
their visit to the vault of their ancestors, were visible
marks of blood. To a considerable extent it will
be remembered that Flora had fired a pistol at the spectral
appearance, and that immediatelyupon that it had disappeared
after uttering a sound which might well be construed into a
cry of pain from a wound, that awound then had been inflicted

(36:23):
upon someone. The blood beneath the window now
abundantly testified, and when it was discovered, Henry and
Charles made a very close examination indeed of the
garden, to discover what direction the wounded figure, be
it man or vampire, had taken. But the closest scrutiny did not
reveal to them a single spot of blood beyond the space

(36:45):
immediately beneath the window. There the apparition seemed to
have received its wound, and then, by some mysterious means,
to have disappeared. At length, wearied with the
continued excitement, combined with want of sleep, to which
they had been subjected, they returned to the hall.
Flora, with the exception of thealarm she experienced from the

(37:07):
firing of the pistol, had met with no disturbance, and that,
in order to spare her painful reflections, they told her, was
merely done as a precautionary measure to proclaim to anyone
who might be lurking in the garden that the inmates.
Of the house. Were ready to defend themselves
against any aggression. Whether or not she believed this
kind deceit, they knew not. She only sighed deeply and wept.

(37:31):
The probability is that she morethan suspected the vampire had
made another visit, but they forbore to press the point, and
leaving her with her mother, Henry and George went from her
chamber again. The former to endeavor to seek
some repose, as it would be his turn to watch on the succeeding
night, and the latter to resume his station in a small room

(37:53):
close to Flora's chamber, where it had been agreed watch and
ward should be kept by turns while the alarm lasted.
At length the morning again dawned upon that unhappy family,
and to none were its beams more welcome.
The birds sang their pleasant carols beneath the window, the

(38:13):
sweet, deep colored autumnal sunshone upon all objects with a
golden luster. And to look abroad upon the
beaming face of nature, no one could for a moment suppose,
except from sad experience, thatthere were such things as gloom,
misery, and crime upon the earth.
Earth and must I? Said Henry, as he gazed from a

(38:35):
window of the hall upon the undulating park, the majestic
trees, the flowers, the shrubs, and the many natural beauties
with which the place was. Full Must I be chased from this
spot, the home of myself and my kindred by a phantom?
Must I indeed seek refuge elsewhere because my own home
has become hideous? It was indeed a cruel and a

(38:57):
painful thought. It was 1.
He yet would not, could not be convinced was absolutely
necessary. But now the sun was shining, it
was morning, and the feelings which found a home in his breast
amidst the darkness, the stillness, and the uncertainty
of night, which chased away by those glorious beams of sunlight

(39:17):
that fell upon hill, valley, andstream, and the 1000 sweet
sounds of life and animation that filled that sunny air.
Such a revulsion of feeling was natural enough.
Many of the distresses and mental anxieties of night vanish
with the night, and those which oppressed the heart of Henry
Bannerworth were considerably modified.

(39:39):
He was engaged in these reflections when he heard the
sound of the lodge bell, and as a visitor was now somewhat rare
at this establishment, he waitedwith some anxiety to see to whom
he was indebted for so early a call.
In the course of a few minutes one of the servants came to him
with a letter in her hand. It bore a large handsome seal,

(40:02):
and from its appearance would seem to have come from a
personage of consequence. A second glance at him showed
him the name of Varney in the corner, and with some degree of
vexation he muttered to himself.Another condoling epistle from
the troublesome neighbor whom I have not yet seen.
If you play, Sir, said the servant who had brought him the

(40:22):
letter. As I'm here and as you're here,
perhaps you'll have no objectionto give me what I'm to have for
the day and two nights as I've been here, because I can't stay
in the family as is self familiar with all sorts of
ghostesses. I ain't used to such company.
What do you mean? Said Henry.
The question was a superfluous one too.

(40:44):
Well, he knew what the woman meant, and the conviction came
across his mind strongly that nodomestic would consent to live
long in the house which was subject to such dreadful
visitations. What does I mean?
Said the woman. Why said it's all the same to
you? I don't myself come from a
vampire family and I doubt choose to remain in a house

(41:05):
where such things is encouraged.That's what I mean, Sir.
What wages are owing to you? Said Henry.
Why, as to wages, I only come here by the day.
Go then, and settle with my mother.
The sooner you leave this house the better.
Oh indeed, on show I don't. Want to stay?
This woman was one of those who were always armed at all points

(41:28):
for a row, and she had no notionof concluding any engagement or
any character whatever without some disturbance.
Therefore, to see Henry take what she said with such
provoking calmness was aggravating in the extreme.
But there was no help for such asource of vexation.
She could find no other ground of quarrel than what was

(41:48):
connected with the vampire, and as Henry would not quarrel with
her on such a score, she was compelled to give it up in
despair. When Henry found himself alone
and free from the annoyance of this woman, he turned his
attention to the letter he held in his hand, which, from the
autograph in the corner he knew came from his new neighbor, Sir
Francis Varney, whom by some chance or another, he had never

(42:12):
yet seen. To his great surprise, he found
that the letter contained the following words.
Dear Sir, as a neighbor by purchase of an estate contiguous
to your own, I am quite sure youhave excused and taken in good
part the cordial offer I made toyou of friendship and service

(42:34):
some short time since. But now, in addressing to you a
distinct proposition, I trust I shall.
Meet with an indulgent consideration whether such a
proposition be accordant with your views or not.
What I have heard from Common Report induces me to believe
that Banner with Hall cannot be a desirable residence for

(42:56):
yourself or your amiable sister.If I am right in that
conjecture, and you have any serious thought of leaving the
place, I would earnestly recommend you, as one having
some experience in such descriptions of property, to
sell it at once. Now, the proposition with which

(43:17):
I conclude this letter is, I know of a character to make you
doubt the disinterestedness of such advice.
But that it is disinterested, nevertheless, is a fact of which
I can assure my own heart, and of which I beg to assure you.
I propose, then, should you, upon consideration, decide upon

(43:38):
such a course of proceeding, to purchase of you the Hall.
I do not ask for a bargain on account of any extraneous
circumstances which may at present time depreciate the
value of the property, but I am willing to give a fair price for
it. Under these circumstances.
I trust, Sir, that you will givea kindly consideration to my

(44:00):
offer, and even if you reject it, I hope that as neighbors we
may live on in peace and amity and in the interchange.
Of those good officers which should subsist between us.
Awaiting your reply, believe me to be, dear Sir, your very
obedient servant. Francis Varney to Henry

(44:20):
Banoworth, Esquire. Henry after having read this
most unobjectionable letter through.
Folded it up again and placed itin his pocket, clasping his
hands, then behind his back. A favorite attitude of his when
he was in deep contemplation. He paced to and fro in the
garden for some time in deep thought.

(44:41):
How strange, he muttered. It seems that every circumstance
combines to induce me to leave my old ancestral home.
It appears as if everything now that happened had that direct
tendency. What can be the meaning of all
this? Tis very strange, amazingly
strange. Here arise circumstances which
are enough to induce any man to leave a particular place.

(45:03):
Then a friend, in whose single mindedness and judgement I know
I can rely, advised that step. And immediately upon the back of
that comes a fair and candid offer.
There was an apparent connectionbetween all of these
circumstances which much puzzledHenry.
He walked to and fro for nearly an hour, until he heard a hasty

(45:24):
footstep approaching him, and looking in the direction from
whence it came, he saw Mr. Marchdale.
I will seek Marchdale's advice, he said, upon this matter.
I will hear what he says concerning it, Henry.
Said Marchdale when he came sufficiently near to him for
conversation. Why do you remain here alone?

(45:45):
I have received. A communication from our
neighbor Sir Francis Varney, said Henry.
Indeed it is here. Peruse it for yourself and then
tell. Me, Marchdale, candidly what you
think of it, I suppose, said Marchdale as he opened the
letter. It is another friendly note of
condolence on the state of your domestic affairs, which, I
grieve to say from the prattlingof domestics, whose tongue it is

(46:08):
quite impossible to silence, have become the food for gossip
all. Over the neighboring villages,
into states. If anything could add another
paying to those I have already been made to suffer, said Henry,
it would certainly arise from being made the food of vulgar
gossip. But read the letter Marchdale,
you will find its contents of a more important character than

(46:28):
you anticipate. Indeed, said Marchdale, as he
ran his eyes eagerly over the note.
When he had finished it, he glanced at Henry, who then said,
Well, what is your opinion? I know not what to say, Henry.
You know that my own advice to you had been to get rid of this
place. It has with the hope that the

(46:49):
disagreeable affair connected with it now may remain connected
with it as a house and not with you and yours as a family.
It may be. So there appears to me every
likelihood of it. I do not know.
Said Henry with a shudder. I must confess, Marchdale, that
to my own perceptions it seems more probable that the
infliction we have experienced from the strange visitor, who

(47:11):
seems now resolved to pester us with visits, will rather attach
to a family than to a house. The vampire may follow us.
If so, of course the parting with the whole would be a great
pity and no gain. None in the least.
Henry, a thought has struck. Me.
Let's hear it, Marchdale. It is this.
Suppose you were to try the experiment of leaving the hole

(47:33):
without selling it. Suppose for one year you were to
let it to someone, Henry, It might be done, I And it might,
and with very great promise and candor, be proposed to this very
gentleman, Sir Francis Varney, to take it for one year to see
how he likes it, before becomingthe possessor of it.
Then if he found himself tormented by the vampire, he
need not complete the purchase. Or if you found that the

(47:56):
apparition followed you, hence you might yourself return,
feeling that perhaps here in thespots familiar to your youth,
you might be most happy even under such circumstances as at
present depress you. Most happy, ejaculated Henry.
Perhaps I should not have used that word.
I am sure you should. Not, said Henry, when you speak
of me. Well, let us hope that the time

(48:19):
may not be very far distant whenI may use the term happy as
applied to you in the most conclusive and the strongest
manner it can be used. Oh.
Said Henry. I will hope, but do not mock me
with it. Now, Marchdale, I pray you,
heaven forbid that I should mockyou.
Well, I do not believe that you are the man to do so to anyone,
but about the affair of the house.

(48:41):
Distinctly, then, if I were you,I would call upon Sir Francis
Varney and make him an offer to become the tenant of the Hall
for 12 months, during which timeyou could go where you please
and test the absence, riding youor not riding you, of the
dreadful visitant who makes the night here truly hedges.
I will speak to my mother, to George, and to my sister of the
matter they shall decide. Mr. Marchdale now strove in

(49:05):
every possible manner to raise the spirits of Henry
Bannerworth, by painting to him the future in far more ragent
colors than the present, and endeavoring to induce a belief
in his mind that a short period of time might, after all,
replace in his mind, and in the minds of those who are naturally
so dear to him, all their wantedserenity.
Henry, although he felt not muchcomfort from these kindly

(49:28):
efforts, yet could feel gratitude to him who made them.
And after expressing such a feeling to Marchdale in strong
terms, he repaired to the house,in order to hold a solemn
consultation with those whom he felt ought to be consulted, as
well as himself, as to what steps ought to be taken with
regard to the hall. The proposition, or rather the

(49:49):
suggestion, which had been made by Marchdale upon the
proposition of Sir Francis Varney, was in every respect so
reasonable and just, that it met, as was to be expected, with
the concurrence of every member of the family.
Flora's cheeks almost resumed some of their wanted color at
the mere thought now of leaving that home to which she had at
one time being so much attached.Yes, dear Henry, she said, Let

(50:14):
us leave here if you are agreeable to do so, and in
leaving this house we will believe that we leave behind us
a world of terror. Flora remarked Henry, in a tone
of slight reproach. If you were so anxious to leave
Bannowyth Hall, why did you not say so before this proposition
came from other mouths? You know your feelings upon such
a subject would have been laws to me.

(50:36):
I knew you were. Attached to the old house, said
Flora. And besides, events have come
upon us all with such fearful rapidity, there has scarcely
been time to think true, true. And you will leave Henry?
I will call upon Sir Francis Varney myself, and speak to him
upon the subject. A new impetus to existence

(50:56):
appeared now to come. Over the whole family at the
idea of leaving a place which always would be now associated
in their minds with so much terror.
Each member of the family felt happier and breathed more freely
than before, so that the change which had come over them seemed
almost magical. And Charles Holland too, was
much better pleased. And he whispered to Flora, Dear

(51:19):
Flora, you will now surely no longer talk of driving from you
the honest heart that loves you.Hush, Charles.
Hush. She said meet me in an hour
hence in the garden and we will talk of this.
That hour will seem an age, he said.
Henry, now having made a determination to see Sir Francis
Varney, lost no time in putting it into execution.

(51:42):
At Mr. Marchdale's own request he took him with him, as it was
desirable to have a third personpresent in the sort of business
negotiation which was going on. The estate, which had been so
recently entered upon by the person calling himself Sir
Francis Varney, and which CommonReport said he had purchased,
was a small but complete property and situated so close

(52:05):
to the grounds connected with Bannerworth Hall.
That a short. Walk soon placed Henry and Mr.
Marchdale before the residence of this gentleman, who had shown
so kindly a feeling towards the Bannerworth family.
Have you seen Sir Francis Varney?
Asked Henry of Mr. Marchdale as he rung the gate bell.
I have not. Have you?

(52:26):
No, I never saw him. It is rather.
Awkward are both being absolute strangest to his person.
We can but send in our names, however, and from the great vein
of courtesy that runs through his letter, I have no doubt we
shall receive the most gentlemanly reception from him.
The servant in handsome livery appeared at the iron gates which
opened upon a lawn at the front of Sir Francis Varney's house,

(52:49):
and to this domestic Henry Bannerworth handed his card,
upon which he had written in pencil likewise the name of Mr.
Marchdale. If your master, he said, is
within, we shall be glad to see him.
Sir Francis is at home, Sir, wasthe reply, although not very
well. If you will be pleased to walk
in, I will announce you to him. Henry and Marchdale followed the

(53:13):
man into a handsome enough reception room where they were
desired to wait until their names were announced.
Do you know if this gentleman bea baronet?
Said Henry. Or a knight merely.
I do not. I never saw him in my life or
heard of him before he came intothis neighborhood.
And I have been too much occupied with the painful

(53:33):
occurrences of this whole to know anything of our neighbors.
I dare say Mr. Chillingworth, ifwe had thought to ask him, would
have known something concerning him.
No doubt this brief colloquy wasput an end to by the servant,
who said, My master gentleman isnot very well, but he begs me to
present his best compliments, and to say he is much gratified

(53:56):
with your visit, and will be happy to see you in his study.
Henry and Marchdale followed theman up a flight of stone stairs,
and they were then conducted through a large apartment into a
smaller one. There was very little light in
this small room, but at the moment of their entrance a tall
man, who was seated, rose, and touching the spring of a blind

(54:19):
which was to the window, It was up in a moment, admitting a
broad glare of light. A cry of surprise mingled with
terror came from Henry Bannerworth's lip.
The original of the portrait on the panel stood before him.
There was the lofty stature, thelong sallow face, the slightly

(54:39):
projecting teeth, the dark, lustrous, although somewhat
sombre eyes, the expression of the features.
Oh, we're alike. Are you unwell, Sir?
Said Sir Francis Varney in soft,mellow accents as he handed a
chair to the bewildered Henry. God of Heaven, said Henry.
How like you seem surprised, Sir.

(55:02):
Have you ever seen me before? Sir?
Francis drew himself up to his full height and cast a strange
glance upon Henry, whose eyes were riveted upon his face as if
with a species of fascination which he could not resist.
Marchdale. Henry gasped.
Marchdale, my friend, Marchdale I I am surely mad Hush.

(55:24):
Be calm, whispered Marchdale. Calm.
Calm. Can you not see Marchdale?
Is this a dream? Look, Look.
Oh, look. For God's sake, Henry, compose
yourself. Is your friend often thus?
Said Sir Francis Farney, with the same mellifluous tone which
seemed habitual with him. No, Sir, he is not.

(55:45):
But recent circumstances have shattered his nerves, and, to
tell the truth, you bear so strong a resemblance to an old
portrait in his house that I do not wonder so much as I
otherwise should at his agitation.
Indeed, a resemblance, said Henry.
A resemblance, God of heaven, Itis the face itself.
You much surprise me, said Sir Francis.

(56:08):
Henry sunk into the chair which was near him, and he trembled
violently. The rush of painful thoughts and
conjectures that came through his mind was enough to make
anyone tremble. Is this the vampire?
Was the horrible question that seemed impressed upon his very
brain and letters of flame. Is this the vampire?

(56:28):
Are you better, Sir? Said Sir Francis Varney in his
bland musical voice. Shall I order a refreshment for
you? No, no, gasped Henry.
For the love of truth, tell us, is is your name really Varney?
Sir. Have you no other name?
To which perhaps a better title you could urge, Mr. Bannerworth.

(56:49):
I can assure you that I am too proud of the name of the family
to which I belong to exchange itfor any other, be it what it
may. How wonderfully like I grieve to
see you so much distressed, Mr. Bannerworth.
I presume ill health has thus shattered your nerves.
Real health has not done the work.
I know not what to say, Sir Francis Varney to you, but

(57:10):
recent events in my family have made the sight of you full of
horrible conjectures. What mean you, Sir?
You know from Common Report thatwe have had a fearful visitor at
our house. A vampire I have heard.
Said Sir Francis Varney with a bland and almost beautiful smile
which displayed his white glistening teeth to perfection.

(57:32):
Yes, a vampire, and, and I pray you go on, Sir, you surely are
above the vulgar superstition ofbelieving in such matters.
My judgement is assailed in too many ways and shapes for it to
hold out, probably as it ought to do against so hideous A
belief. But never was it so much
bewildered as now. Why so?

(57:53):
Because, hey, Henry, whispered Mr. Marchdale, it is scarcely
civil to tell Sir Francis to hisface that he resembles a
vampire. I must.
I must. Hurry, Sir, interrupted Varney
to Marchdale. Permit Mr. Bannerworth to speak
carefreely. There is nothing in the whole
world I so much admire as candor.

(58:14):
Then you so much resemble the vampire, added Henry.
That that I know not what to think.
Is it possible it is a damning fact?
Well, it's unfortunate for me, Ipresume.
Ah, Varney gave a twinge of pain, as if some sudden bodily
ailment had attacked him severely.

(58:34):
You are unwell, Sir, said Marchdale.
No, no, no, he said. I hurt my arm and happened
accidentally to touch the arm ofthis chair with it.
I hurt, said Henry. Yes, Mr. Bannerworth.
Oh, a wound. Yes, a wound, but not much more
than skin deep. In fact, a little.

(58:55):
Beyond an abrasion of the skin. May I inquire how you came by
it? Oh, yes, yes, a slight fall,
indeed. Remarkable, is it not very
remarkable? We never know a moment when from
some most trifling 'cause we mayreceive some serious bodily
hurt. How true it is, Mr. Bannerworth,
that in the midst of life we arein death.

(59:17):
And equally true, perhaps, said Henry, that in the midst of
death there may be found a horrible life.
Well, I should not wonder. There are really are so many
strange things in the world thatI have left off wondering at
anything now. There are strange things, said
Henry. You wish to purchase of me the
hall, Sir, If you wish to sell you, you are perhaps attached to

(59:40):
the place. Perhaps you recollected it, Sir,
long ago. Not very long, smiled Sir
Frances Varney. It seems a nice, comfortable old
house, and the grounds too appear to be amazingly well
wooded, which to one of rather aromantic temperament like
myself, is always an additional charm to a place.
I was extremely pleased with it the first time I beheld it.

(01:00:03):
In a desire to call myself, the owner of it took possession of
my mind. The scenery is.
Remarkable for its beauty, and from what I have seen of it, is
rarely to be excelled. No doubt you are greatly
attached to it. It has been my home from
infancy, returned Henry, and being also the residents of my
ancestors for centuries, it is natural that I should be so.

(01:00:25):
True, true. The House no doubt has suffered
much, said Henry, Within the last 100 years.
No doubt it has. 100 years is a tolerable long space of time,
you know. It is indeed.
Oh, how any human life which hasspun out to such an extent must
lose its charms by losing all its fondest and dearest

(01:00:46):
associations. Ah, how true, said Sir Francis
Varney. He had some minutes previously,
touched a bell and at this moment a servant brought in on a
tray some wine and refreshments.Well, of course we know Sir
Francis Varney is a vampire because of the title of the

(01:01:08):
book, but it's fun to see what acool character he is with his
bland musical voice. Funny I I do believe I remember
the same description being applied to Missus Lovett's voice
in Sweeney Todd So what are bitsof blood?
You might remember the referencefrom the first chapter of Hints
for Men About Town. The hate me horrid we read from
last week. The title Men about Town

(01:01:30):
embraces all the gay world, fromthe Lord who drives his own 4
bits of blood down to the humblecommoner who's six days a week
drives a hard. Bargain in the.
City the bits of blood are well bred horses, also known as rum
prads. Well, that means it's now time
to Polish off our night's readings with a chapter from The

(01:01:52):
String of Pearls or The Barber of Fleet St. starring, of
course, Sweeney Todd. And yes, clever one.
I did in fact move Sweeney Todd to the end of the episode just
so I could use that. Line.
Speaking of lines, it's Flash can't time.
Let's unpack the terms that I used in the introductory patter
on this episode. I wished, as you will recall, a

(01:02:13):
tip top evening to all Count cards, Cousin Betty's and
Knights of the Brush and the Moon.
I said I was known among the nubbing coves and creping curls
of the Tyburn Tree as Professor Flash and I invited you to take
a load off your stampers and fill up with your local
sluceries, tip top tipple and swivel your index.
My direction for the show. And I said the the Autumn

(01:02:36):
Ballers and Tulips of the Goes disdain our stories as Penny
Dreadful. Give it a guess after the story,
we'll find out if you got them all.
Last week in Chapter 50 of Sweeney Todd, Johanna Oakley was
forced to take her burly but notoverly smart cousin Big Ben the
Beefeater into her confidence and tell him she was dressing in
boys clothes to spy on the barbershop where she still

(01:02:58):
thinks Mark and Jester was murdered.
Big Ben, of course, promptly went to the shop to be shaved to
investigate and the only the timely intervention of Sir
Richard Blunt. And yes, we will be receiving
confirmation in the third paragraph of today's reading
that it was he prevented Big Benfrom ending up in a batch of
pies. So let's now continue with

(01:03:19):
Chapter 51. Chapter 50.
One the vaults of Saint Dunstan's.
A ponderous stone was raised in the flooring of Saint Dunstan's
church. The Beadle, the church warden,
and the workmen shrank back, back, back, until they could get

(01:03:42):
no further. I needed a no red.
Smell, said the Beadle, then theplain looking man who had been
at Sweeney Todd's advanced. He was none other than Sir
Richard Blunt and whispering to the church warden, he said.
If what I expect to be found here, we cannot have too few
witnesses to it. Let the workmen be dismissed.

(01:04:04):
As you please, Sir Richard. What an awful phoof stench there
is. I have no doubt they won't be
sorry to get away here my man. Here's half a crown for you.
Go and get something to drink and come back in an hour.
Think you're on earth? Cried one of the men.
I'm sure. By Saint Patrick's bones, we
want something to drink, for thestench in this church sticks in

(01:04:25):
my blessed throat like a marrow bone, so it does get oot.
Said the beetle. We hates low people and Hyrish,
they thinks no more of beetles, of nothing in the world.
The workmen retired laughing, and when the church was clear of
them, the church warden said to Sir Richard Blunt.
Did you ever, Sir Richard, smellsuch a horrid charnel house kind

(01:04:47):
of stench as comes up from that opening in the floor of the old
church? Sir Richard shook his head and
was about to say something when the sound of a footstep upon the
pavement of the church made him look round, and he saw a fat
Percy looking individual approaching.
Oh, it's Mr. Vickley, the overseer, said the Beadle.
I hope says you're as well, Mr. Vickley.

(01:05:08):
Years are and smell. God bless me.
Cried the overseer, as with his fat finger and thumb he held his
snubbed nose. What's this?
It's worse and worse. You're Sir, said the Beadle,
talking of smell. We have to let the cat out of a
bag, I think. Good gracious, put her in again.
Then it can't be a cat. Begging your pardon, Mr.

(01:05:30):
Vickley, I only spoke anatomically.
If you comes in here Sir, you'llfind that all the smell comes
out of this year opening. What an opening close to my Pew,
my family Pew, where I every Sunday enjoy my repose, I mean
my hopes of everlasting glory upon my life.
I think it's a piece of of damned impudence to open the

(01:05:52):
floor of the church close to my Pew.
If there was anything of the kind done, shouldn't it have
been done somewhere among the free sittings?
I should like to know, Mr. Vickley.
Said Sir Richard. Pray be satisfied that I have
sufficient authority for what I do here, and if I thought it
necessary to take up the flooring of your Pew while you
had been in it, I should have done it.

(01:06:15):
In Pray, Sir, said Mr. Vickley, swelling himself up to as large
a size as possible, and glancingat his watch chain to see that
all the seals hung upon the convexity of his pouch as usual.
Who are you? Oh, dear, Oh dear, said the
Beatle. Convulsions, convulsions.
What a thing it is to see authorities are going at each

(01:06:36):
other. A gentleman, gentleman
convulsions. Ain't there lots of poor people
in the world? Don't you be a going at each
other. I am a magistrate and I am an
overseer. Ah, you may be an overseer or an
underseer if you like. I am going to search the vaults
of Saint Dunstan. 'S the church warden now, took

(01:06:57):
the overseer aside and after a while succeeded in calming down
his irascibility. Oh well, well, said Mr. Vickley.
Authorities is authorities, and if so be as the horrid spell in
the church can be got rid of. I'm willing as possible.
It has often prevented me sleeping, I mean listening to

(01:07:17):
the sermon. Your servant, Sir, I shall of
course be very happy to assist you.
The Beadle wiped his face with his large yellow handkerchief as
he said. No Vasir is delightful and
affecting to see a four is agreeing together.
Lord, why should authorities snap at each other's noses off
when there's lots of poor peopleas can be said, Anything to and

(01:07:39):
anything done to and they may snap themselves.
Will Will added Mr. Vickley, I am quite satisfied.
Of course, if there's anything disagreeable to be done in a
church, and it can be done amongthe free seats, it's all the
better. And indeed, if the smell in
Saint Dunstans could have been kept away from the respectable

(01:08:00):
part of the congregation, I don't know that it would have
mattered much. Convulsions.
Cried the Beadle. It wouldn't have mattered at
all, gentlemen, but only think of a Bishop smelling it upon my
life, gentlemen, I didn't think when I saw the Right Reverend
Father in God's house looking upand down like a cat when she

(01:08:21):
smells a bunch of lights and knowed it was all went of a
smell in the church. I didn't think as I could have
gone down through the floor, cocked hat and all that I did,
couldn't Walsh, and that was a moment.
It was said the church warden, Mercy Mercy, said Mr. Vickley.
The Beadle was so affected by the remembrance of what had

(01:08:43):
happened at the confirmation, that he was forced to blow his
nose with an energy that produced a trumpet like sound in
the empty church, and echoed again from nave to gallery.
Sir Richard Blunt had let all the discourse go on without
paying the least attention to it.
He was quietly waiting for the foul vapors that rose from the
vaults beneath the church to dissipate a little before he

(01:09:04):
ventured upon exploring them. Now, however, he advanced and.
Spoke. Gentlemen, I hope I shall be
able to rid Saint Dunstan's of the stench which for a long time
has given it so unenviable a reputation.
If you can do that. Said the church.
Warden, you will delight the whole parish.
It has been a puzzle to us. All where the stench could come
from. Where's the puzzle?

(01:09:27):
Now, said Sir Richard Blunt, as he pointed to the opening in the
floor of the church, from whenceissued like a steamy vapor.
Such horrible exhalation. Why?
It must certainly have come fromthe vaults.
But, said the overseer, the parish books show that there has
not been anyone buried in any ofthe vaults directly beneath the
church for 30 years. Then, said the Beadle.

(01:09:50):
It's a very wrong thing of respectable parishioners, for of
course them, as has waltz as respectable to keep quiet for 30
years and then begin stinking like blazes.
It's uncommon. Wrong convulsions.
Sir Richard Blunt took a paper from his pocket and folded it.
From this plan he said that I have procured of the vaults of

(01:10:13):
Saint Dunstan's. It appears that the stone we
have raised, which was numbered 30, discloses a stone staircase
communicating with two passages from which all the vaults can be
reached. I propose searching them.
And now, gentlemen, and you, Mr.Beadle, listen to me.
They all three looked at him with surprise as he took another
letter from his pockets. Here, he said, are a few words

(01:10:36):
from the Secretary of State. Pray read them, Mr. Vickley.
The. Overseer.
Read as follows. The Secretary of State presents
his compliments to Sir Richard Blunt, and begs to say that as
regards the affairs and Dunsons,Sir Richard is to consider
himself armed with any extraordinary powers he may
consider necessary. No, gentlemen, added Sir Richard

(01:10:58):
Blunt. Of you will descend with me into
the vaults, all I require of youis the most profound secrecy
with regard to what you may see there.
Do you fully understand? Yes, stammered Mr. Vickley.
But I rather think I I I would just as soon not go.
Then, Sir, be silent regarding the going of others.
Will you go, Sir? To the church warden.

(01:11:20):
Why, yes, I, I, I think I ought,or I shall be obliged to you.
I may feel the want of a witness.
We will take you with us, Mr. Beadle, of course.
Me, me. Convulsions.
Yes, you, you go, you know, ex officio, ex the dudes.
I don't want to go. Oh, convulsions, convulsions.

(01:11:42):
We cannot dispense with your services, so the church warden,
if you refuse to go, it will be your duty to lay your conduct
before the vestry. Oh, oh, oh.
Get a torch, said Sir Richard Blunt, and I will lower it down
the opening in the floor. If the air is not so foul as to
extinguish the light, it will not be too bad for us to breathe
for a short space of time. Most reluctantly, and with

(01:12:05):
terrible misgivings of what might be the result of the
frightful adventure into which he was about to be dragged, the
beetle fetched a link from the vestry.
It was lighted, and Sir Richard,tying a string to it, let it
down into the passage beneath the church.
The light was not extinguished, but it burnt feebly and with a
Wan and sickly luster. It will do.

(01:12:26):
Said Sir Richard. We can live in that place,
although a protracted stay mightbe fatal.
Follow me. I will go 1st, and I hope we
shall not have our trouble only for our pains.
That finishes off our reading from Sweeney Todd.
I don't want to go on record at this time as preferring Sweeney

(01:12:48):
Todd to all the other early dreadfuls, but chapters like
this one try my resolution sorely.
Rhymer is so good with certain local characters.
Mr. Vickley is like Exhibit A here.
Mr. Vickley, the fat overseer ofSaint Dunstan's church, who
objects to having the vault opened up so close to.
My family Pew, where every Sunday I enjoy my repose, I mean

(01:13:13):
my hopes of everlasting glory. And go dig in the free seats
where the peasants in the riffraff sit.
It really is very delicious, andI can only imagine how
wonderfully this story would have resonated with me if I had
been one of the Londoners it waswritten for.
If the smell could be kept away from the respectable part of the

(01:13:34):
congregation, I don't know that it would have mattered.
Much. I love it.
Also the Beadle Mr. Otten, who really is a little bit of a
former day Yogi Berra. Except, of course, that Yogi
Berra was a very smart man, and Mr. Otten not so much.
It's a very wrong thing of respectable parishioners to keep
quiet for 30 years and then begin stinking like blazes.

(01:13:57):
It's uncommon wrong convulsions.And what do you suppose they?
Will find in the vaults. Now you and I both know very
well what they will find there, but I'm still really looking
forward to them doing so next week.
Speaking of next week, that wraps up our readings for this
week and I hope you enjoyed themas much as I did.

(01:14:18):
But before we mizzle off count cards are out and Outers hail
fellow well met types. Cousin Betty's are traveling,
let's just say Cyprian damsels. Sometimes prostitutes, sometimes
just friendly ladies. Nubbing coves are hangmen, and
so are creping curls. The crepe part I think is a
reference to the black crepe paper that is part of morning

(01:14:39):
costume. It's the same basis as creped
meaning hanged, which I think I have been mispronouncing as
crapped for obvious modern slangreasons.
CRAPP apostrophe DI say. I think these things because the
page I need to find out for sureis missing from my Oxford
English Dictionary. It appears to be a manufacturing

(01:14:59):
defect rather than vandalism. There's an entire folio left.
Out of the. Binding, and no sign that it
ever was there. But you know Rivino's on Nomu
Tong, as what's his name says. Stampers are, of course, feet.
Your local slucerie would have been your nearest gin palace.
I mean, I suppose you could sluice your ivories with beer,
but they seem to go straight to gin.

(01:15:21):
Your index or your frontis pieceis your face.
And finally, Autumn Ballers is adisparaging reference to
preachers. I think we had that one recently
as well, so you probably alreadyknew that.
Also Tulips of the Goes, which as you I'm sure also know are
fancy self important high society types.
Well that's it in the labs. I hope you will join me again

(01:15:42):
next week on the Penny Dreadful Story Hour for the 1860s
edition, which brings with it a foursome of additional tales
from the later years of the Penny Dreadful Story Papers era.
After the higher moral tone of Queen Victoria had started to
really be felt in the streets and on the stories being
supplied for St. Urchins and working Londoners to

(01:16:03):
read which include our 4 Black Bess are The Night of the Road
starring of course highwayman Dick Turpin.
Spring Heeled Jack, the terror of London, international
espionage sensation story The Black Band or their mysteries of
Midnight and a new one about which more and a bit Rose
Mortimer or the ballet Girl's revenge.

(01:16:26):
In Black Bess, we'll finally getto see Dick Turpin do his
legendary stand and deliver thing.
The fellow he robs, though, is going to turn out to be a bit of
a handful, even for Dick. In the black band of the World's
Stupidest Marquess comes dashingup to Lady Edith Vandaler's
house at midnight, ready to takeher away to the altar.
The poor dumb fratricidal fool is 12 hours too late.

(01:16:49):
Alas. Sucks to be him.
Really sucks to be him. In Springhill, Jack, we'll meet
a ballet girl. Yes, another ballet girl.
You may remember Clara Melville from the last chapter of The
Black Band. And of course, we've got another
ballet girl coming too, but moreon her in a bit.
Just about the same situation, too.

(01:17:09):
All three of these ballet girls are going to be in as a dashing
and dissipated libertine, stocking her home from the
ballet, crooning sweet persuasion at her.
And how far do you think he'll be willing to go to win her
love? And will Spring heal Jack, be
able to save her in time if he decides to subject her to all

(01:17:29):
together now, a fate worse than death?
We shall see. Finally, we're going to start
our perusal of Rose Mortimer or the Ballet Girls Revenge.
This is a delicious dreadful with a really, really remarkable
cover art. Seriously, if we had a pulp lit
Grand Mercantile Emporium and I were selling temporary tattoos

(01:17:50):
therein, this would be our firstoffering.
It is, as our mutual friend Bertie Wooster would say, ripe
stuff indeed will be introduced to Rose on a deserted street
where a wicked Parson is trying to ravish her.
That much, at least, is new. She's got a man of the cloth
playing the libertine role. She is rescued by a dashing hero

(01:18:11):
from the ballet she's trying to join, which turns it into a
lucky break for her. Then we follow her home and
learn that her father, who is a nasty brute, is also a
counterfeiter. And the person who tried to
subject her to the good old fateworse than death is threatening
to have her father transported to Australia.
So all of those, plus some new flash camp words are coming your

(01:18:33):
way next Saturday Eve. Our theme music is a track
called Night Radiance by Maksim Cornishev.
You can find more of his work onSpotify, Apple Music, Band Camp,
and some other places. Too.
Penny Dreadful Story Hour is a production of Pulp Lit Studios.
For all the gory details, look to pulplit.com and to get in
touch with me, hit me up at [e-mail].

(01:18:56):
Thanks again for joining me, Pippins.
It is time for us to mizzle off into the night for the Penny
Dreadful story hour. I am Professor Flash AKA Finn JD
John signing off and now fair forth and fill up the rest of
the week with stuff that will make you want to cock your leg
and cry sugar. Bye now.