Dracula The Un-Dead

by Dacre Stoker

  Through these characters’ present lives, we relive some of the key events of their earlier experiences as recorded in Stoker’s novel: the death of Lucy, the madness of Renfield, Mina’s “baptism of blood,” the chase to Transylvania, and the final confrontation with Dracula. The unifying element is provided by Quincey Harker, the son of Jonathan and Mina, who’s “bundle of names links all our little band of men together.” Mentioned briefly in Jonathan Harker’s “Note” at the close of the novel, Quincey is the first member of the next generation.

  Dracula the Un-Dead is set in 1912, a year chosen deliberately. It permits an appearance by Bram Stoker himself (he died on April 20, 1912). Even more crucial to the story is that the authors can dovetail their conclusion into the sailing of the Titanic (which also occurred in April). This essential link lays the trail for a sequel to the sequel, with the distinct possibility that Dracula will indeed find his way to America.

  This decision necessitated altering the dating of the events in Stoker’s original narrative. The story of Dracula has been clearly established as being set in 1893, based on evidence both from the Notes and from references within the text itself. In order to use an adult Quincey Harker as the catalyst (and to set their own story in 1912), Stoker and Holt found it necessary to resituate the plot of Dracula to an earlier year. The selection was 1888, as fortuitous a choice as 1912. It was during the period from August to November 1888 that Jack the Ripper murdered five women in the Whitechapel district of London. That Stoker knew of these murders is without question; in fact, he refers to them directly in the preface he wrote for the Icelandic edition of Dracula, published in 1901. Revealing the identity of the notorious Ripper becomes a subplot in Dracula the Un-Dead.

  The Dracula we meet in this novel is much more than the vampire count of Bram Stoker. For starters, he is clearly identified as Vlad the Impaler, the fifteenth-century Romanian voivode (warlord) notorious for his atrocities. Merging Stoker’s Dracula with Vlad is hardly new, having been popularized by Raymond McNally and Radu Florescu in their best-selling In Search of Dracula (1972) and making its way from there into fiction and film. In reality, the connection in Dracula is much more tentative. Nowhere is the name “Vlad” mentioned in Stoker’s novel (or in his Notes), nor are there any references to the atrocities for which he became notorious. Indeed, recent scholarship has clearly demonstrated that Stoker knew very little about the real Dracula, other than his nickname, that he crossed the Danube to fight against the Turks, and that he had an “unworthy brother.”3 For many, the fact that Vlad has permeated the Dracula story to such an extent has made the two Draculas inseparable. Vlad’s appearance here is almost to be expected.

  But Stoker and Holt do something quite creative with their Vlad/ Dracula. In their novel, he comes to England as Basarab (the name of the royal family to which Vlad the Impaler belonged), a Romanian actor who is taking Europe by storm. Quincey brings Basarab to England, just as his father had paved the way for Count Dracula to undertake a similar journey. Stoker’s original intention as shown in his Notes was to have the count arrive through Dover, the port of entry used by Basarab. The change to Whitby occurred after Stoker visited the town on England’s northeast coast and decided to make it a major setting in his novel.

  One immediately recognizes that Basarab is in part homage to Sir Henry Irving, whose death in 1905 excludes him from an active role in the narrative. The resonances of Irving are pronounced. Quincey Harker is drawn to Basarab much as Stoker himself was to Irving. Quincey hopes that Basarab will play the role of Dracula in a stage version of the Stoker novel; Stoker may have had similar aspirations. The revelation that Basarab is indeed Stoker’s Count Dracula plays cleverly on the widespread (albeit readily challenged) view among scholars that Stoker deliberately modeled his vampire on his domineering employer.

  Obviously, not all of the characters in this novel are drawn from Stoker’s Dracula. Yet those “in the know” will recognize many examples of intriguing intertext. Some are minor, as with Braithwaite Lowery, Quincey’s roommate at the Sorbonne. This name actually appears in Dracula as one of the names on the headstones pointed out by Mr. Swales in the Whitby graveyard. In fact, that is exactly where Stoker found it. Another example is a character listed in an early outline for Dracula (and later discarded) as a detective named Cotford. In Dracula the Un-Dead, this character is resurrected as Inspector Cotford, who had worked the Ripper case under the mentorship of Chief Inspector Frederick Abberline (a real person) and is still obsessed with making up for his earlier failure by solving it now.

  Stoker and Holt incorporate a number of other real people in their narrative. Most obvious is Bram Stoker himself. Due to the restrictions resulting from the choice of narrative time, the authors have had to take certain liberties with the facts of Stoker’s life. Here, as owner of a still-operating Lyceum Theatre, he is active for a while, overseeing a proposed stage production based on his own novel. He admits that Dracula was the result of the merging of his own vampire story with what he thought was a fantastical tale told to him by an old man in a pub. In a confrontation with the titular character (which, incidentally, precipitates his stroke), Stoker faces Basarab’s challenges of some of the “facts” in his novel, as the Romanian actor decries its inconsistencies and false presumptions.

  Another historical personage who finds her way into the text is Elizabeth Bathory, the Hungarian countess infamous for bathing in the blood of murdered maidens. As with Vlad the Impaler, her name has been inextricably connected with Stoker and his novel. There is in Bathory’s case even less evidence of a connection with Stoker and his book. But her appearance gives Dracula the Un-Dead much of its power, allowing the authors to shift some of the “absolute evil” away from Dracula and onto another entity.

  Among the many nuggets in this book are cameo appearances by several characters who are clearly nods (some only in name) to individuals connected with the theatre and/or the Dracula story throughout the twentieth century: for example, Hamilton Deane, Tom Reynolds, John Barrymore, Raymond Huntley, Vincent Price, Christopher Lee, and Louis Jourdan. Others, unrelated to Stoker and his novel, ground the text clearly in 1912. There was, for example, a person named Henri Salmet, an early aviator who flew from London to Paris in March of that year. But arguably the most ingenious is the inclusion of Able Seaman John Coffey. Though he had no connection with Stoker or his novel, he has become part of history as the worker who left the Titanic at Queensland because of a superstitious fear of what lay in store for the great liner.

  In shaping a sequel that is grounded in its predecessor, Stoker and Holt take liberties with both fact and fiction, ranging from the fire at the Lyceum to the location of Seward’s asylum in Whitby. They also create backstories for several of the characters in Stoker’s novel, such as Renfield’s prior association with the Hawkins law firm, Jonathan and Mina’s courtship in Exeter, and the establishment of Seward’s asylum. On one occasion, they even manipulate a key date in the original novel—postponing Dracula’s flight from London back to Transylvania by a few days so that his presence in London on November 9 can make him a suspect in the Ripper murders.

  A purist might indeed be occasionally shocked by the introduction of such “errors” into the original text. While it might seem that the coauthors are only sacrificing accuracy for artistic purposes (a completely legitimate enterprise), something else is taking shape. They reestablish the “true” text of Dracula, which in turn forms the basis of this sequel; at the same time, they recognize in that sequel that there is no single Dracula but many Draculas, ranging from Stoker’s earliest Notes to the latest Hollywood adaptation, and that the boundaries between them are blurred indeed. The urge to reclaim and reshape Dracula is a mark of the novel’s enduring power and influence. To quote Professor Abraham Van Helsing in Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel, “And so the circle goes on ever widening, like as the ripples from a stone thrown in the water.”

  —Elizabeth Miller

  Toronto, Febru
ary 2009

  ELIZABETH MILLER, Professor Emerita (Memorial University of Newfoundland) is recognized internationally for her expertise on Dracula, both the novel and the historical figure. Coeditor (with Robert Eighteen-Bisang) of Bram Stoker’s Notes for Dracula: A Facsimile Edition, she has also published A Dracula Handbook and the award-winning Dracula: Sense & Nonsense. She lectures regularly on both sides of the Atlantic and has participated in numerous radio and television documentaries. At the World Dracula Congress in Romania in 1995, Dr. Miller was granted the honorary title of “Baroness of the House of Dracula.” Her Web sites—Dracula’s homepage and the Dracula Research Centre—are both accessible through www.blooferland.com.

  AUTHORS’ NOTE

  Dacre’s Story

  Since I am a Stoker, it is not surprising that I have had a lifelong interest in the work of my ancestor. Bram’s youngest brother, George, believed to be the sibling with whom he had the closest relationship, was my great-grandfather, so I am Bram’s great-grandnephew. In college, I wrote a paper on my great granduncle, examining what may have motivated him to write Dracula. My research opened my eyes to how, from my family’s perspective, the history of the book Dracula, is pretty tragic.

  Bram Stoker died without ever seeing Dracula become popular. The sales of the novel were so limited at the time of his death that his widow, Florence, thought she would never benefit financially from Bram’s “wasted” seven years of research and writing. With Bram’s other fiction and nonfiction books out of print, Florence was convinced she would live out her days on a tight budget.

  It was ten years after Bram’s death when his literary imagination finally caught up with that of the public. The vampire/horror genres had begun heating up, which sparked sales of Dracula. Posthumously, Bram started to receive recognition as the progenitor of the modern vampire/ horror novel.

  In 1922 Florence was confronted with the knowledge that a film based on her late husband’s book had been made without her consent. She was dependent on what little income was to be derived from Dracula , and as inheritor of Bram’s copyright, she should have benefited from this and any other film versions.

  Florence went to court, suing the German company Prana Films for copyright infringement for their unauthorized adaptation of Dracula into the movie Nosferatu. The case was extremely complicated and it dragged on through numerous appeals over a three and a half year period. She finally prevailed in 1925, only to find out that Prana Films was bankrupt, so although she recovered her legal fees, Florence never received any cash settlement.

  Florence’s only accomplishment after the legal nightmare was the satisfaction that all copies of the film Nosferatu were ordered destroyed—or so she thought. To her great dismay, she soon discovered that a copy had survived and begun to appear in film houses in London in 1928 and in the United States in 1929. Frustrated, Florence gave up her fight over the film.

  Florence did, however, enforce her copyright and give her input to stage adaptations of Bram’s Dracula in the United Kingdom, for which she received percentages and royalties. She later benefited from the sale of movie rights to Universal Studios in 1930, but payments were not easily forthcoming.

  After the film deal with Universal, it came to light that for some reason Bram had not complied with one small requirement of the U.S. copyright office, therefore rendering Dracula public domain in the United States since 1899. From this point on, Florence would have to be satisfied with U.K. royalties only.

  With the U.S. copyright lost, Hollywood, corporate America, and anyone else was free to do whatever they wanted to Bram’s story and characters. The Stoker family was never again asked for input or approval of any of the hundreds of incarnations of Dracula over the next century.

  As a Stoker growing up in North America, I saw firsthand how the entire copyright issue impacted our family. My father’s generation had a negative feeling for all things Hollywood and Dracula—except, of course, for Bram’s original novel. I didn’t write about these issues in my college paper, but they were always on my mind. I felt it was a shame that my family could not control the legacy of my great-granduncle. I also felt that it was important for the Stokers to somehow lay claim to the character of Dracula as he was more and more embraced by popular culture. Unfortunately, for much of my life I had no idea how I could help make this happen.

  It was many years after college that I met an interesting character, Ian Holt. Ian is a screenwriter who has been obsessed with all things Dracula since childhood. Ian, being a true idealist, had a plan that inspired me to not accept the frustrating history of Dracula. He wanted to change history. Ian’s plan was simple: to reestablish creative control over Bram’s novel and characters by writing a sequel that bore the Stoker name. To my surprise, none in my family had ever considered this. Intrigued, I decided to join Ian on a roller-coaster ride as coauthor.

  In writing Dracula the Un-Dead, I felt a strong sense of duty and familial responsibility. I hoped to work with Ian to represent Bram’s vision for the character of Dracula. We aimed to resurrect Bram’s original themes and characters, just as Bram conceived them more than a century ago. So many books and films had strayed from Bram’s vision—and thus our intent was to give both Bram and Dracula back their dignity in some small way.

  I am very proud to have the support of my extended Stoker family to reclaim Dracula. I think Bram would be proud that a family member has taken this initiative, and finally done justice to the legacy he created.

  Ian’s Story

  I am not ashamed to say it, I LOVE horror films. As a child there was no horror film I loved more than the Bela Lugosi-Tod Browning 1931 classic, Dracula. When I was ten years old, my mother bought me a record for Halloween with Christopher Lee narrating the story of Dracula by Bram Stoker. Reading that record sleeve changed my life, for it was then I learned that Transylvania was an actual place and that Dracula was a historical figure. As a ten-year-old boy, I swore I would travel to the land and seek out the old count.

  Inspired by the record, I then read Bram Stoker’s Dracula. I was surprised at how different the novel was from the films—and I had seen every Dracula film ever made. The novel was more intelligent, astute, and dark. The novel had more intricate and exciting characters than I could have ever imagined. I felt cheated by Hollywood. I vowed revenge!

  Fifteen years later, my opportunity came. Flipping channels one night, I came upon a program on the making of Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula. On the program, Coppola held up the 1972 book In Search of Dracula written by Fulbright Scholars Professor Raymond McNally and Professor Radu Florescu (Prince Dracula’s actual descendant). Coppola had used the professors’ research of the historical Prince Dracula’s life as inspiration for the opening sequence of his film.

  Before taking a breath I was on a plane to Boston College to meet the professors. After showing them some notes on the screenplay I planned to write based on their book, the professors sold me the rights for one dollar and became my partners, mentors, and great friends.

  The friendship I forged with McNally and Florescu has borne fruit in many ways. I soon began traveling with the professors giving lectures on the impact of Bram Stoker’s novel on our culture. This garnered me an invitation to speak at The First World Dracula Congress in Bucharest, Romania, in 1995—a gathering of Dracula/horror scholars from around the world. At last I had made it to Transylvania. There I spent a night in the ruins of Dracula’s castle in Poenari and traveled to his palace in Tirgoviste—it was here that I stood on the balcony of Dracula’s Chindia tower, where Prince Dracula had looked out upon his Forest of the Impaled. I also visited Dracula’s birthplace in Sighisoara and his “empty grave” at Snagov Island Monastery. I had finally made the dream I had as a ten-year-old come true.

  Thanks to the friends I made at the First World Dracula Congress, I was asked to join the Transylvanian Society of Dracula—a scholarly organization dedicated to the study of all things Dracula. Through friends in the so
ciety I met Professor Elizabeth Miller, the world’s foremost authority on all things vampire, Dracula, and Bram.

  Professor Miller asked me to speak at the Dracula convention in Los Angeles in 1997, where we celebrated the 100th anniversary of the release of Bram’s novel. It was a horror geek’s dream. It was there that I conceived a sequel to Bram Stoker’s Dracula. This was not new, but there had never been a sequel made with input from a member of the Stoker family. Securing that input became my goal.

  I then reached out to the Stoker family patriarch. Still scarred by the Nosferatu copyright affair and years of being ignored and abused by Hollywood, the members of this generation of the Stoker family wanted nothing to do with me. But I wouldn’t give up. I simply kept building up my film-writing résumé and Dracula connections, preparing for the day when the younger generation of Stokers came to forefront. Five years later, I met Dacre Stoker—Bram’s great-grandnephew. I pitched him my sequel idea, which at the time I had been planning as a screenplay. Dacre was enthusiastic and suggested that the proper way to proceed was with a book first. I eagerly agreed to a writing partnership.

  Dacre contacted numerous members of his extensive family and presented them with our sequel proposal. Once it was understood that this would be a labor of love, our intentions honorable, and that our plan was to restore to the world Bram’s original vision and characters, the Stokers offered support, at long last.

  Dracula the Un-Dead is the culmination of my lifelong dream and years of hard work. It is my gift to every horror nut out there. My greatest wish is we have created a book that is close to Bram’s original gothic vision—while modernizing it at the same time. Believe me, I realize how lucky I am. I have been truly blessed that in some small way, my name will be linked with that of my hero, Bram Stoker—the man who invented modern horror.