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Vampire
The excursion steamer brought us from Constantinople to the shore of the island of Prinkipo and we disembarked. The number of passengers was not large. There was one Polish family, a father, a mother, a daughter and her bridegroom, and then we two. Oh, yes, I must not forget that when we were already on the wooden bridge which crosses the Golden Horn to Constantinople, a Greek, a rather youthful man, joined us. He was probably an artist, judging by the portfolio he carried under his arm. Long black locks floated to his shoulders, his face was pale, and his black eyes were deeply set in their sockets. From the first moment he interested me, especially for his obligingness and for his knowledge of local conditions. But he talked too much, and I then turned away from him.
All the more agreeable was the Polish family. The father and mother were good-natured, fine people, the lover a handsome young fellow, of direct and refined manners. They had come to Prinkipo to spend the summer months for the sake of the daughter, who was slightly ailing. The beautiful pale girl was either just recovering from a severe illness or else a serious disease was just fastening its hold upon her. She leaned upon her lover when she walked and very often sat down to rest, while a frequent dry little cough interrupted her whispers. Whenever she coughed, her escort would considerately pause in their walk. He always cast upon her a glance of sympathetic suffering and she would look back at him as if she would say: "It is nothing. I am happy!" They believed in health and happiness.
On the recommendation of the Greek, who departed from us immediately at the pier, the family secured quarters in the hotel on the hill. The hotel-keeper was a Frenchman and his entire building was equipped comfortably and artistically, according to the French style.
We breakfasted together and when the noon heat had abated somewhat we all betook ourselves to the heights, where in the grove of Siberian stone-pines we could refresh ourselves with the view. Hardly had we found a suitable spot and settled ourselves when the Greek appeared again. He greeted us lightly, looked about and seated himself only a few steps from us. He opened his portfolio and began to sketch.
"I think he purposely sits with his back to the rocks so that we can't look at his sketch," I said.
"We don't have to," said the young Pole. "We have enough before us to look at." After a while he added, "It seems to me he's sketching us in as a sort of background. Well--let him!"
We truly did have enough to gaze at. There is not a more beautiful or more happy corner in the world than that very Prinkipo! The political martyr, Irene, contemporary of Charles the Great, lived there for a month as an exile. If I could live a month of my life there I would be happy for the memory of it for the rest of my days! I shall never forget even that one day spent at Prinkipo.
The air was as clear as a diamond, so soft, so caressing, that one's whole soul swung out upon it into the distance. At the right beyond the sea projected the brown Asiatic summits; to the left in the distance purpled the steep coasts of Europe. The neighboring Chalki, one of the nine islands of the "Prince's Archipelago," rose with its cypress forests into the peaceful heights like a sorrowful dream, crowned by a great structure--an asylum for those whose minds are sick.
The Sea of Marmora was but slightly ruffled and played in all colors like a sparkling opal. In the distance the sea was as white as milk, then rosy, between the two islands a glowing orange and below us it was beautifully greenish blue, like a transparent sapphire. It was resplendent in its own beauty. Nowhere were there any large ships--only two small craft flying the English flag sped along the shore.
All the more agreeable was the Polish family. The father and mother were good-natured, fine people, the lover a handsome young fellow, of direct and refined manners. They had come to Prinkipo to spend the summer months for the sake of the daughter, who was slightly ailing. The beautiful pale girl was either just recovering from a severe illness or else a serious disease was just fastening its hold upon her. She leaned upon her lover when she walked and very often sat down to rest, while a frequent dry little cough interrupted her whispers. Whenever she coughed, her escort would considerately pause in their walk. He always cast upon her a glance of sympathetic suffering and she would look back at him as if she would say: "It is nothing. I am happy!" They believed in health and happiness.
On the recommendation of the Greek, who departed from us immediately at the pier, the family secured quarters in the hotel on the hill. The hotel-keeper was a Frenchman and his entire building was equipped comfortably and artistically, according to the French style.
We breakfasted together and when the noon heat had abated somewhat we all betook ourselves to the heights, where in the grove of Siberian stone-pines we could refresh ourselves with the view. Hardly had we found a suitable spot and settled ourselves when the Greek appeared again. He greeted us lightly, looked about and seated himself only a few steps from us. He opened his portfolio and began to sketch.
"I think he purposely sits with his back to the rocks so that we can't look at his sketch," I said.
"We don't have to," said the young Pole. "We have enough before us to look at." After a while he added, "It seems to me he's sketching us in as a sort of background. Well--let him!"
We truly did have enough to gaze at. There is not a more beautiful or more happy corner in the world than that very Prinkipo! The political martyr, Irene, contemporary of Charles the Great, lived there for a month as an exile. If I could live a month of my life there I would be happy for the memory of it for the rest of my days! I shall never forget even that one day spent at Prinkipo.
The air was as clear as a diamond, so soft, so caressing, that one's whole soul swung out upon it into the distance. At the right beyond the sea projected the brown Asiatic summits; to the left in the distance purpled the steep coasts of Europe. The neighboring Chalki, one of the nine islands of the "Prince's Archipelago," rose with its cypress forests into the peaceful heights like a sorrowful dream, crowned by a great structure--an asylum for those whose minds are sick.
The Sea of Marmora was but slightly ruffled and played in all colors like a sparkling opal. In the distance the sea was as white as milk, then rosy, between the two islands a glowing orange and below us it was beautifully greenish blue, like a transparent sapphire. It was resplendent in its own beauty. Nowhere were there any large ships--only two small craft flying the English flag sped along the shore.
150 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1920
2 people are currently reading
137 people want to read
About the author
Jan Neruda
207 books46 followersJan Nepomuk Neruda was a Czech journalist, writer and poet, one of the most prominent representatives of Czech Realism and a member of "the May school".
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Displaying 1 - 29 of 29 reviews
September 24, 2022
The story is set on the Island of Büyükada (Big Island)/Prinkipos (Πρίγκηπος = Prince) a few kilometres south of Istanbul in the Ottoman Empire. (Btw, this car-free Island is a beauty in RL!)
The Narrator tells us about his observations while on an excursion to the Island with a few stranger of whom one a is sickly young girl. We have her family and her lover as well as an artist which the Narrator tells us about and the events, that surrounds them.
This was a nice read with 10 pages (≈ 10 minutes).
I was positively surprised by this short piece from an Austrian-Czech Gentleman of the last century. After a few minutes into it (I read while listening to it) I had a good idea about what would happen but I still enjoyed the piece as it was.
You can clearly read between the words that the author was a poet AND that the translator is well versed in translating between both languages (Czech & English).
If you want to listen to or read this short story. Here are the Links.
For your ears -> »Vampire« @ Youtube
For your eyes -> »Vampire« @ Project Gutenberg of Australia
The Narrator tells us about his observations while on an excursion to the Island with a few stranger of whom one a is sickly young girl. We have her family and her lover as well as an artist which the Narrator tells us about and the events, that surrounds them.
This was a nice read with 10 pages (≈ 10 minutes).
I was positively surprised by this short piece from an Austrian-Czech Gentleman of the last century. After a few minutes into it (I read while listening to it) I had a good idea about what would happen but I still enjoyed the piece as it was.
You can clearly read between the words that the author was a poet AND that the translator is well versed in translating between both languages (Czech & English).
If you want to listen to or read this short story. Here are the Links.
For your ears -> »Vampire« @ Youtube
For your eyes -> »Vampire« @ Project Gutenberg of Australia
April 30, 2020
Nearly failed to answer half the questions during the UPCAT because I read this story 3 times over, memorizing it, and eventually finding it once I got home. Worth it.
Actual thoughts: There was more attention given to descriptive language than there was to the plot itself; so when the ending came, it came with a force strong enough to shock but not one strong enough to make perfect sense. Still, I enjoyed reading this one during the test, and I still do.
Actual thoughts: There was more attention given to descriptive language than there was to the plot itself; so when the ending came, it came with a force strong enough to shock but not one strong enough to make perfect sense. Still, I enjoyed reading this one during the test, and I still do.
January 5, 2019
While I was reading, I wondered what kind of vampire the story is talking about. And perhaps this is the very fascination of this short story set on an island near Constantinople. I heard about the story when I read that Jaroslav Panuska drew inspiration from Neruda’s tale for his painting of the same name, where he draws the spirit “with amorphous, elongated, changeable faces, both human and animal” (arte e magia - Rovigo 2018 - Exhibition Catalogue). A very short story, just four pages, downloadable for free on the Internet, and worth reading.
Jaroslav Panuska/Vampire
Jaroslav Panuska/Vampire
June 29, 2013
Very short. The author spends more time describing the scenery than attacking the plot line. The title is more than a bit deceiving. This is not a story about a vampire, but rather about a morbid character whom the locals nicknamed "The Vampire".
2 STARS
2 STARS
July 21, 2023
En el momento que muere la chica logra crear muy buena atmosfera de tensión pero me quedó la sensación que falto algo más, además que como tal no salió la figura del vampiro
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 16, 2021
The English translation of this 1871 story first appeared in 1920. I wonder if it is a mistranslation; the man is referred to as a vampire and a vulture.
But it is rather creepy, but I keep thinking about it. I have so many questions.
3 stars
is it a 'gift', like the cat in the palliative care unit that sits with the next to die. Is he painting people he drained earlier waiting for their life to run out, as it were. Is he a distance vampire?
But it is rather creepy, but I keep thinking about it. I have so many questions.
3 stars
is it a 'gift', like the cat in the palliative care unit that sits with the next to die. Is he painting people he drained earlier waiting for their life to run out, as it were. Is he a distance vampire?
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November 21, 2022🔔The waters of the Sea of Marmora were only slightly ruffled, and played in all colours like a sparkling opal. In the distance was the ocean, white as milk, then rose-tinted, then between two islands like a glowing orange, and beneath us of a beautiful greenish-blue like a transparent sapphire. It was alone in its beauty; no large vessels were to be seen. Only two email craft with English flags were slipping along hard by the shore. One was a steam-boat, the size of a watchman's booth, the other was manned by about twelve rowers, and when all their oars were lifted at the same time, it was as if molten silver were trickling from them. Artless dolphins were moving in their midst, and flew in long curves above the surface of the water. From time to time across the blue sky peaceful eagles soared, measuring out a boundary between two portions of the world
October 13, 2020
3.5 A strange occurrence during a vacation in the Greek islands. Amongst the travelers is an interesting young man, who appears to be an artist because he carries a portfolio with him. It turns out that the locals call him The Vampire. Originally published in Czech in 1871 and finally translated into English in 1920.
I liked it, but I wish it had been longer.
I liked it, but I wish it had been longer.
August 1, 2012
A short story from the 1920's. While it was a good book, I didn't feel that the plot was very well developed.
January 23, 2023
The Vampire, Jan Neruda (1834-1891), Czech.
“The air was as clear as a diamond, so soft, so caressing, that one’s whole soul swung upon it into the distance.”
Delightful conditions of the Turkish island of Prinkipo. Cool story of a young Greek artist .. the vampire. ***
“The air was as clear as a diamond, so soft, so caressing, that one’s whole soul swung upon it into the distance.”
Delightful conditions of the Turkish island of Prinkipo. Cool story of a young Greek artist .. the vampire. ***
June 21, 2025
I really liked this short story :) the descriptions of the setting, Prinkipo are just beautiful and while the man isn't actually a vampire he still truly embodies the essence of the monster. That's my interpretation. 👍
5/5 stars
5/5 stars
April 17, 2020
Seems like a magical vampire to me..
September 11, 2020
It was interesting how the Greek artist was able to predict one's death through his drawings
December 15, 2020
Compelling!
May 3, 2023
A little snippet of a story. Very moody and atmospheric and with a neat little twist in the vein of old gothic horror stories.
May 1, 2024
A great way to sell drawings to gullible tourists!
June 5, 2024
Beautiful description of the sea, but with such a clear title I was definitely expecting more vampire. The ending is painfully rushed.
March 2, 2025
Artist can see how people will die through drawings. It's an undeveloped fragment not really a story here.
September 11, 2025
A very sweet short story. More Grim Repear then vampire.
December 30, 2020
Such a sweet short story. Momento Mori.
February 13, 2016
"..paints them beforehand--and he never makes a mistake--just like a vulture!"
short story, too short perhaps, beautifully painted by Jan, ...en fin, he, called the vampire, who is not one, in fact, but a painter, sketches the doomed beforehand and completes on the very same day they die, as if prophesying.
short story, too short perhaps, beautifully painted by Jan, ...en fin, he, called the vampire, who is not one, in fact, but a painter, sketches the doomed beforehand and completes on the very same day they die, as if prophesying.
October 24, 2024
Short horror story depicting an artist who can predict death. A group of tourists vacation on the island of Prinkipo. A strange artist in the group has a rare talent of painting people who die within a short time after their portraits are finished. A spooky short story perfect for Halloween!
August 6, 2011
Short story with an unexpected ending. Very interesting, considering when it was written.
February 9, 2013
nice !!!
August 25, 2013
Strikingly short and captivating...
January 27, 2014
I was expecting a horror story, but the impression I'm left with is just that this was a sweet little story.
July 17, 2016
A very, very short story. It was entertaining, but I think it would've been better had it been a bit longer, maybe.
March 20, 2009
Very short story that is a quick read but nothing special.
March 25, 2017
It was a striking short story for its brevity. How much he is able to accomplish in such a short span is incredible. Beautiful language. I think it's notable to consider that Neruda specialized in writing short stories, or feuilletons, like this because he enjoyed that they permitted more experimentation and freedom than novels would.
Displaying 1 - 29 of 29 reviews