Quite Shameless: Cultural Reflections on the Vampire

Drawing on the University of Leeds’ rich collections, a new exhibition follows the bloody trail of the vampire through artistic movements and cultural moments from ancient times to the present, reflecting the terrors and obsessions of each age that summons it. Quite Shameless features handwritten manuscripts and first editions of Gothic literature, but also looks to ancient folklore, science, medicine, theatre and contemporary cultural anxieties to piece together a picture of a truly immortal fiend. In a celebrated letter written after the publication of Dracula, Bram Stoker jokes, “Lord forgive me, I am now quite shameless!” This and other unique items from Leeds’ impressive holdings of Stoker correspondence and manuscripts pinpoint the zenith of the literary vampire. The author’s expansive fund of inspiration is seen in source material ranging from books on Hungary and Transylvania to Sabine Baring-Gould’s 1865 Book of Were-Wolves, documenting canine teeth, pointed nails, transformations, wolves and eerie blue flames. Animal skulls from the University of Leeds School of Dentistry Museum show further sources for the vampire’s most distinctive attribute. Telegrams, railway timetables and wax phonograph cylinders represent the modern technology folded into, and often driving, the plot of Dracula; and books on mesmerism and a collection of Victorian pocket watches show the influence of the craze on his psychic domination of his victims. Lesser-known works on show from the decadent era show the ascent of the vampire in connection with queerness and forbidden attraction, appearing in increasingly sensationalist stories – and lurid artwork and bindings. Sheridan Le Fanu’s 1872 Carmilla introduced readers to a seductive female vampire who continues to be a transgressive touchstone, and it’s presented here with the original letter in which Le Fanu appropriated the phrase ‘a pleasing terror’. Byron’s entry to the infamous ghost story competition at the Villa Diodati can be seen in his original handwritten manuscript; blood means sacrifice, redemption and purification in John Bingley Garland’s dreadfully beautiful Victorian collage; the undead burst from trees on horseback in spine-chilling medieval illuminations; and Yorkshire’s soil gives up horrifying stories of revenants at Byland Abbey and Wharram Percy.