Penny Dreadfuls—How Dreadful Were They?
Early on in my reading and research for The Mystery of Irma Vep, I realized I needed to learn more about “penny dreadfuls.” After all, the play’s subtitle is “A Penny Dreadful.” I knew this referred to sensational stories that were sold in parts to 19th century readers but I had never seen or read a “penny dreadful.” Certainly I knew about the popularity of serial publications in the 19th century—Charles Dickens regularly serialized his novels before publishing them as books and so did many other fiction writers of the time. But, although I had taught English and American literature courses for many years, I had never seen an actual “penny dreadful.” Not too surprising as these popular stories were not really considered literature and also they were not meant to last—they were definitely disposable.
In doing online research I came across an extremely useful volume, Varney the Vampire, or, The Feast of Blood, written by James Malcolm Rymer in the 1840s and edited by Curt Herr and published by Zittaw Press in 2008. At over 800 pages, this book not only makes available the complete text of a long, discursive tale—236 chapters published serially—but also publishes examples of other penny dreadfuls, plus a great deal of historical information.
Illustration from the serialized tale of "Varney the Vampire: or, The Feast of Blood," a Penny Dreadful, by James Malcolm Rymer.
Although Varney the Vampire is not the first tale about vampires to be written in English, it does predate the more famous Bram Stoker novel, Dracula (1897). Penny dreadfuls became popular in the first half of the 19th century and their rise was related to the growth of cities and an increase in the literacy rate. As Herr explains, some tales were called “penny bloods” and were often about cannibalism, mass murders and other such gory events. Eventually, the tales, while still sensational, had more elements of romance and of the supernatural—e.g., characters haunted by vampires and werewolves.
Having acquired Varney the Vampire, I thought I’d give it a try. (Besides, it was February and it snowed every day!) An advantage of stories published in parts is that the parts are short—often a couple of pages—and so don’t require a great commitment. Early chapters had elements I would have expected—a setting in an English country house, a beautiful virginal woman threatened by a vampire, several vain attempts to trick the vampire. Interestingly, Varney himself is developed as a rather forlorn romantic figure and so anticipates some contemporary treatments of vampires as romantic figures. He doesn’t come across as particularly frightening while the men trying to trap him are portrayed as inept. One quality of the writing is the tendency to introduce digressions—suddenly new characters appear and begin telling stories seemingly unrelated to the vampire plot. So it’s easy to lose the narrative thread. I read about half of the book before deciding I knew enough about this “penny dreadful” without reading further. I admit, I did cheat and skip to the end to see what happens to the vampire.
So how dreadful was this particular penny dreadful? That depends. If we’re using the older meaning of “that which inspires dread,” I’d say, no, these characters and situations do not actually inspire dread. (I remember feeling frightened at some of the scenes in Stoker’s Dracula when I read it as an 18-year-old.) Can I see why a penny dreadful such as Varney the Vampire attracted readers? Certainly. It has appeal much like continuing stories on television, whether daytime soaps or evening programs like Grey’s Anatomy, and with many of the same virtues and vices—romance, suspense, interesting characters and situations but often marred by bad writing and odd digressions.
–James Bailey, dramaturge for The Mystery of Irma Vep
