Count Dracula

Hello and welcome back to Fab Figmentals, the podcast that explores the realm of curious creatures, magical monsters, and beautiful beasts!

I’m your host, Lindsey Morse.

Each episode, we dive into the folklore and history of a different legendary creature and share a story about it. And today we’re concluding our look at some of Halloween’s most famous monsters.

Over the course of the last several weeks, we’ve looked at Frankenstein’s Monster, the Headless Horseman, mummies, and werewolves, and today we’re rounding out our Halloween-themed episodes by looking at a monster that’s captivated audiences for over a hundred years— Count Dracula. 

Count Dracula is the invention of Bram Stoker, who featured the famous villain in his 1897 novel, Dracula, but vampires have existed— in some form— in nearly every culture throughout history. From Africa to Asia and Ancient Rome to Mesopotamia, pretty much everywhere you look you’ll find some form of vampiric creature, but Count Dracula, the Transylvanian count and undead, centuries old vampire, is really the grandfather of the creature we think of today. 

Stoker wasn’t the first of his generation to pen vampire fiction, but our modern idea of the vampire is largely due to his work. 

Unlike the vampires of Eastern European folklore, which were described as repulsive animated corpses, Dracula is a charming, charismatic aristocrat. He might be a monster, but he can present as a gentleman. Stoker’s vampire can shift into a bat, a wolf, and fog, and he can scramble vertically straight up the side of a tall building. But perhaps most notably, Stoker was the first to introduce the idea that vampires have no reflection. 

Dracula is an epistolary novel that’s written as a series of documents— a collection of letters, diary entries, and newspaper articles— and it follows the journey of several protagonists who come together to defeat and destroy the famous undead count. 

I love this novel, and I’ll be honest— it was hard for me to choose which section to share on today’s show. Ultimately, I decided to go with an excerpt from the beginning of the novel, an entry from the journal of Jonathan Harker, a solicitor who’s been sent to visit with Count Dracula at his castle in the Carpathian Mountains. I’ve picked this part of the story because it’s the first time we meet Dracula, and the descriptions are wonderful. 

Today, I’ve invited Verity Clayton, host of Scary Stories Podcast, to step in as our guest storyteller. Scary Stories is an atmospheric exploration of the psychology of fear told through those classic stories that happened to a friend of a friend. It’s pretty awesome. Stay tuned at the end of the episode to hear a promo for the show. 

Now, let’s meet up with Jonathan Harker. He’s just about to arrive at the castle of Count Dracula. 

Take it away, Verity. 

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JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL

5 May.—

I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had been fully awake I must have noticed the approach of such a remarkable place. In the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable size, and as several dark ways led from it under great round arches, it perhaps seemed bigger than it really is. I have not yet been able to see it by daylight.

When the calèche stopped, the driver jumped down and held out his hand to assist me to alight. Again I could not but notice his prodigious strength. His hand actually seemed like a steel vice that could have crushed mine if he had chosen. Then he took out my traps, and placed them on the ground beside me as I stood close to a great door, old and studded with large iron nails, and set in a projecting doorway of massive stone. I could see even in the dim light that the stone was massively carved, but that the carving had been much worn by time and weather. As I stood, the driver jumped again into his seat and shook the reins; the horses started forward, and trap and all disappeared down one of the dark openings.

I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what to do. Of bell or knocker there was no sign; through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate. The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked? 

I heard a heavy step approaching behind the great door, and saw through the chinks the gleam of a coming light. Then there was the sound of rattling chains and the clanking of massive bolts drawn back. A key was turned with the loud grating noise of long disuse, and the great door swung back.

Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere. He held in his hand an antique silver lamp, in which the flame burned without chimney or globe of any kind, throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the draught of the open door. The old man motioned me in with his right hand with a courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a strange intonation:—

“Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!” He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. The instant, however, that I had stepped over the threshold, he moved impulsively forward, and holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as ice—more like the hand of a dead than a living man. Again he said:—

“Welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring!” The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking; so to make sure, I said interrogatively:—

“Count Dracula?” He bowed in a courtly way as he replied:—

“I am Dracula; and I bid you welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house. Come in; the night air is chill, and you must need to eat and rest.” As he was speaking, he put the lamp on a bracket on the wall, and stepping out, took my luggage; he had carried it in before I could forestall him. I protested but he insisted:—

“Nay, sir, you are my guest. It is late, and my people are not available. Let me see to your comfort myself.” He insisted on carrying my traps along the passage, and then up a great winding stair, and along another great passage, on whose stone floor our steps rang heavily. At the end of this he threw open a heavy door, and I rejoiced to see within a well-lit room in which a table was spread for supper, and on whose mighty hearth a great fire of logs, freshly replenished, flamed and flared.

The Count halted, putting down my bags, closed the door, and crossing the room, opened another door, which led into a small octagonal room lit by a single lamp, and seemingly without a window of any sort. Passing through this, he opened another door, and motioned me to enter. It was a welcome sight; for here was a great bedroom well lighted and warmed with another log fire, which sent a hollow roar up the wide chimney. The Count himself left my luggage inside and withdrew, saying, before he closed the door:—

“You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself. I trust you will find all you wish. When you are ready, come into the other room, where you will find your supper prepared.”

The light and warmth and the Count’s courteous welcome seemed to have dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having then reached my normal state, I discovered that I was half famished with hunger; so, I went into the other room.

I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on one side of the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, made a graceful wave of his hand to the table, and said:—

“I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will, I trust, excuse me that I do not join you; but I have dined already.”

The Count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish, and I fell to at once on an excellent roast chicken. This, with some cheese and a salad and a bottle of old Tokay, of which I had two glasses, was my supper. During the time I was eating it the Count asked me many questions as to my journey, and I told him by degrees all I had experienced.

By this time I had finished my supper, and by my host’s desire had drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigar which he offered me, at the same time excusing himself that he did not smoke. I had now an opportunity of observing him, and found him of a very marked physiognomy.

His face was a strong—a very strong—aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils; with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth; these protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale, and at the tops extremely pointed; the chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary pallor.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather coarse—broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal. The Count, evidently noticing it, drew back; and with a grim sort of smile, which showed more than he had yet done his protuberant teeth, sat himself down again on his own side of the fireplace. We were both silent for a while; and as I looked towards the window I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves. The Count’s eyes gleamed, and he said:—

“Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!” Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:—

“Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter.” Then he rose and said:—

“But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and to-morrow you shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be away till the afternoon; so sleep well and dream well!” With a courteous bow, he opened for me himself the door to the octagonal room, and I entered my bedroom....

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. 

God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

—————————

Thanks so much, Verity, that was wonderful. 

So, here, we readers get our first glimpse at the titular character of Stoker’s novel. And what a character he is— mysterious, welcoming, and— odd. His appearance, in particular, is strange, isn’t it. Most notable, I think, are his sharp, pointed fingernails, hairy palms, “evil looking” mouth, ruddy lips, and protruding fangs.

So where did Bram Stoker find inspiration for such a unique and eerie character? 

I’ve seen it written that Count Dracula is largely based on Vlad the Impaler, also known as Vlad Dracula, a Romanian ruler with a reputation for cruelty who reigned in the region of Wallachia from around 1428-1476, but there are some reasons to doubt that Stoker drew much inspiration here. The novelist kept good records of his working notes for the book, and there’s no mention of Vlad to be found anywhere. Scholars have looked into this topic further, and most have drawn the conclusion that Stoker was unlikely to have known much about the ancient Wallachian ruler. Aside from the name “Dracula” and some small bits of information about Wallachia, there aren’t many other similarities between the ancient Romanian ruler and our favorite fanged villain. 

True, Vlad the Impaler had a taste for blood— he was a ruthless leader whose brutal acts and violent mass slayings would be condemned by the standards of today— but Stoker is the first to suggest he was a literal blood guzzling vampire. 

There’s no evidence to suggest that Vlad Dracula was an actual vampire, but it is interesting to note that his stomping ground, Wallachia, which is adjacent to Transylvania and part of the seeming hub of vampire lore, is located right next door to Serbia.

In the 18th century, The Age of Enlightenment was changing the way Europe thought about philosophy, government, and religion. People turned towards reason and away from superstition, and as a result many legends ceased to captivate minds in the way they once did. However, for some strange reason, vampires were the exception to the rule. During this period, vampire sighting skyrocketed, belief in vampires increased with a fervor, and a mass hysteria gripped most of Europe. The "18th-Century Vampire Controversy" raged on for decades, and nowhere was gripped quite so tightly as Serbia.

While Serbia isn’t the first place we think of when we think of the blood sucking undead, it’s home of a couple of remarkable, well-documented cases of alleged real life vampires. 

It all starts with Petar Blagojević, a Serbian peasant who died in 1725. In the eight days following his death, a further nine people also died, all due to a whirlwind 24 hour illness that swept them quickly into the grave. On their deathbeds, many of these victims pointed the finger of blame at Petar, who they claimed had attacked them in the night. Petar’s own wife also said that she’d been visited by her deceased husband. He’d apparently turned up one day looking for a pair of his shoes. It was quickly determined that there was only one thing to do: disinter Petar’s body to check for signs of vampyrism. A group of townspeople, a local government authority, and a priest gathered to inspect the body. To their horror, they discovered that the body had not decomposed at all. Even worse, Petar seemed to have grown new skin, and there was fresh blood in his mouth. They immediately staked him. 

The following year, there was another vampire scare. 

This time, the alleged vampire was a man named Arnold Paole, a sort of Serbian freedom fighter who made repeated claims during his life that he had been at one time stalked by a vampire, but that he had freed himself from the vampire’s curse by eating soil from the vampire’s grave and smearing himself with its blood. Paole died in an accident, and several weeks later, four people came forward with claims that he wasn’t really gone. They had been visited by him, and he was definitely a vampire. Shortly thereafter, they all died. Locals decided it was imperative that they exhume Paole’s body as soon as possible.  Was he truly dead?

Both the case of Blagojević and Paole were well-documented. Government officials examined bodies, wrote case reports, and published books throughout Europe. As such, we have a recording of what they found when they pulled up Paole’s body.

"Fresh blood flowed from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears; … the shirt, the covering, and the coffin were completely bloody; [and] the old nails on his hands and feet, along with the skin, had fallen off, and new ones had grown". 

They concluded that he was indeed a vampire, and drove a stake through his heart. They also staked his four victims, just to be safe. 

To be fair, both of these cases can probably be blamed on weather-related preservation and a poor understanding of the decomposition of bodies, but…  where’s the fun in that. 

Instead, I’m going to leave you with an interesting factoid. 

Serbia has given the world some great things: paprika, Nikola Tesla, and top ranking tennis player, Novak Djoković. But, interestingly, there’s only one Serbian word known all around the world: Vampire. 

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Thank you so much for tuning in to Fab Figmentals!

Research, writing, and sound editing are done by me, Lindsey Morse. Niall Cooper assists with writing and editing. Our theme music was created by Graeme Ronald. Our story today was ready by Verity Clayton, the host of Scary Stories Podcast. Stay tuned after the credits to hear a promo for the show.

I hope you’ve enjoyed our deep dive into some of Halloween’s most famous monsters. I’ve had a great time writing these episodes, and I’m toying with the idea of doing something similar in December— maybe a look at some of the darker characters in the Yultide pantheon. What do you think? Reach out and let me know. 

You can get in touch via our website, FabFigmentals.com, or tweet me @figmentals.

If you like Fab Figmentals, please tell a friend. Word of mouth is really the best way to support the show and help it grow.

Thanks again for listening, and I hope you’ll join me next week.

If your little one suddenly seems different… and strange… beware. It could be that fairies have swapped out your human child for one of their own, a Changeling. We’ll talk all about these imposters next week. 

We’ll see you next time. 

(Scary Stories Promo)