Dracula in Istanbul

by Bram Stoker

  As these thoughts passed through my mind, footsteps approached the thick door from the other side and a light appeared through the keyhole. Chains rattled; huge rusted bolts moved from their places with a terrible noise; a large key turned inside a lock which apparently had not been used for some time, and the massive door opened inwards.

  A tall, old man stood in front of it. He had a long white mustache and no beard. He was dressed in black from head to toe. There was not even a hint of another color on the man. He held a silver, almost antique candlestick in his hand with nothing to protect the flame that flickered in the draught. The old man made a graceful, inviting gesture with his right hand, and with excellent Turkish but a strange accent he said:

  “Welcome to my home. Please enter freely and of your own accord without hesitation!”

  Hearing such good Turkish in this place and under these circumstances completely bewildered me. His accent resembled that of some of the Greek doctors in Istanbul.

  When he took my hand and shook it, his strength was just like that harsh strength of the driver who brought me here—so much so that I suspected they were the same person. Apart from that, his hand, gripping mine as though it were about to break my bones, was as cold as ice and resembled that of a dead man.

  To ease my confusion I asked:

  “Do I have the honor of addressing Count Dracula?”

  He bowed with great courtesy and grace:

  “Yes, I am Dracula. And I am pleased to bid the lawyer Azmi Bey welcome to my castle.”

  As he spoke these words in accented Turkish, the tall old man placed the candlestick on a stone. He stepped out and brought my bags inside; I objected to his taking the trouble and offered to help. He responded again in Turkish:

  “Nay sir, not at all. It is very late, and my servants are not here; please let me see to your comfort myself!”

  He brought the bags and trunks to a spiral staircase. After climbing the steps, we passed through a long hallway. The Count’s footsteps rang heavily in this stone passage. The Count opened a strong, heavy door at the end of the corridor. We entered a large, well-lit room. There was a round table with food set upon it and a cozy, roaring hearth visible on the other side of the room.

  Count Dracula stopped, setting my bags and trunks to the side. He then opened another door, where there was a smaller, octagonal room illuminated by a single lamp. This small room had no windows. We passed through this room as well.

  The Count opened a third door and motioned for me to enter. Before me was a very welcome sight, for this was a well-lit bedroom heated with a large fireplace. The giant logs in the hearth burned with pleasant crackling sounds and vented their smoke up the wide chimney. Count Dracula brought my belongings in here, left them inside the door, and said:

  “After such a long journey you must surely wish to change your clothes, rest, and put your belongings in place. Here you will find everything you need. When you are ready, come into the parlor; your supper is already prepared.”

  The Count quickly withdrew. The bright, warm environment in which I found myself and the kind, courteous behavior of Count Dracula had immediately dissipated all my fears and suspicions. Having then reached my natural state, I discovered that I was starving. I hastily prepared myself and went into the parlor.

  Just as he said, the supper was laid out on the table. Standing next to a carved statue near the large fireplace, my host invited me to the table with a respectful and graceful gesture.

  “Please, be seated and sup how you please. I ask your forgiveness because I cannot join you; I have dined a little early today and it is not my habit to eat at night.”

  I handed Count Dracula the letter, sealed with red wax, written by Rıfat Bey, the director of my office in Istanbul. Count Dracula opened the envelope, read the letter solemnly, and then, with a smile, gave it back to me to read. As I perused this letter from Rıfat Bey, who is as dear to me as my father, I think some lines made me blush with happiness. I felt a deep sense of gratitude toward Rıfat Bey, and a strong feeling of pride. Referring to his recent rheumatism, Rıfat Bey wrote:

  “…As such, this unfortunate illness prevents me from making this journey. But I am happy to say that I can send a highly trusted attorney of mine in my stead. He may appear very young, but he is highly energetic, cultured, enlightened, and honest. He is discreet and knows how to hold his tongue. I would like to add that he was raised under my patronage and careful supervision, and thereafter completed his education and training. Azmi Bey, my attorney and second son, will stay there as long as you wish after giving you the necessary information. He will acquaint you with the property we purchased for you in Istanbul, through our correspondence, with your permission and under your name. I am deeply sorry that I could not make this trip myself to meet you in person…”

  After I finished the letter, the Count approached the table and removed the cover of a dish; a salad and the famous Hungarian Tokaji wine, with which I was only familiar through novels, complemented the supper. I made a point to drain two glasses of the wine. Count Dracula asked me many questions about my trip and I told him everything that had happened to me. I could not wait to ask many questions myself.

  When the supper was over, I drew up a chair near the fire and began to smoke the cigarettes the Count offered me. Count Dracula said that he did not smoke, and apologized.

  I now had the chance to observe my host closely. The Count’s face and appearance struck me as remarkable. His face was strong, very strong, and his profile was aquiline. His slim nose had a high bridge and his nostrils were arched. His forehead was lofty, so much so as to indicate nobility. His hair, which was thin at the temples, was thick and bushy elsewhere. His eyebrows were also bushy and furrowed, and they nearly conjoined above his nose. As far as I could see under his heavy, white moustache, his mouth suggested great and almost merciless determination. The teeth were strangely sharp and very pointed. And his lips were a blood-red color unusual for a man of his age; they showed an astonishing vitality. His ears were rather pale and the tops were excessively pointed. His jaw was broad and strong, and his cheeks, while thin, still appeared firm. The general impression of his face was one of exceptional pallor.

  Until now I had only seen my host’s hands by the light of the fireplace, and they appeared white and delicate. But now I could see that there were hairs in the center of his palm. Beyond this, his hands and coarse fingers were long and thin and his fingernails were pointed.

  As the Count leaned toward me and touched my hand, a shudder passed through my body. Moreover, the man’s breath was rank, worse than any other. It caused at that moment a wave of nausea to come over me and I was unable to conceal it. Count Dracula undoubtedly sensed this and stepped back. With a grim smile that displayed his long, sharp teeth even more, he moved back to the other side of the roaring fireplace and sat down.

  For a while we were both silent. And at that moment, my eyes discerned the first shimmering rays of sunlight through the windows. There was a strange stillness. But suddenly I heard many wolves howling from the deep valleys down below. His eyes shining, the Count said:

  “Listen to them… Children of the night! What a beautiful symphony they play!”

  He added, upon seeing my reaction:

  “Ah, you city dwellers, you can never understand the life of a hunter…”

  Then he rose suddenly:

  “Effendi from Istanbul, you must be very tired from your journey. Your bedroom is ready; tomorrow you may sleep as late as you wish. I have other business until the evening. Now make yourself comfortable, and dream well!”

  Then he opened the door of the octagonal room with a graceful bow. I entered my bedroom. As the old Turkish poets put it, I was in a sea of bewilderment. And I had delved into a vortex of curiosity. I was suspicious and frightened. I think things that I am afraid to admit even to myself. May God help me. Güzin, dear Güzin, do you see your poor Azmi in your dreams as you sleep this morning in our sweet Istanbul?<
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  7 May.—Morning again. I have been very comfortable during the last twenty-four hours. I slept until late in the morning and woke of my own accord. When I had dressed, I went to the parlor where I had had supper, and there was a cold breakfast on the table and a hot coffeepot near the fireplace. There was a card on the table, upon which was written in German:

  “I will not be in the castle for a while. Please do not wait for me.

  “Signed, Count Dracula”

  After reading the card I sat down to table and had a large breakfast. After I finished my meal, I looked for a bell to call a servant to clear the plates, but I could not find one. From what I have seen there are some strange deficiencies in the castle and in my room. These seem especially odd when compared with the evidences of great wealth. For example, the cutlery is of gold. It is so well-made that it is doubtless of great value. The curtains, carpets, and bed sheets are all fashioned from the heaviest and most costly fabric. Although they were made hundreds of years ago, they are yet undamaged. But in none of the rooms is there a single mirror! I could not even find a vanity mirror over my table, so I took out the small mirror in my shaving box so that I might shave and smarten myself up. Not only have I seen no servants inside the castle, but I have not heard any noise apart from the howling wolves. I ate my breakfast; to be honest I do not know if I should call it a breakfast or dinner, for it was about five or six o’clock when I had eaten. I looked around to find something to read, since I did not think it was appropriate to go about the castle without the Count’s permission. There was nothing resembling a book, paper, or ink; eventually, I found some kind of library when I opened the other door. I checked the door of the room opposite mine, but it was locked.

  After I entered the library I was both surprised and overjoyed, as there were many, indeed an indescribable number, of Turkish books! Many shelves were full of them. The Count had certainly been to Istanbul, since he knew Turkish, so seeing some Turkish books here should not have come as a surprise. But they were so many and varied that I began to wonder if Count Dracula was an orientalist interested in the language, culture, and history of eastern nations, like Vambery. This was plausible. The reason he communicated with our bureau in Istanbul, sent a deed of trust to our director Rıfat Bey, and purchased a house in Istanbul was to more closely conduct his research and observations. There were bound Turkish newspapers and magazines everywhere. Many of these were from twenty, thirty years ago.

  As for the subjects of these Turkish books, there was a wide variety. There were books about history, geography, politics, law, many novels, and even a newly printed book on etiquette. Strangely, there were even trade registries and bound copies of the Istanbul Chamber of Commerce’s periodical. When I saw the journal of the Turkish Bar Association, I had the sweet sensation of seeing a close relative.

  Whilst I was looking at these books, the door suddenly opened and Count Dracula entered. After greeting me cheerfully and asking how I was getting along, he said:

  “I am glad you found the library, for there are many things that will interest you here.”

  And then he put his hands on one of the Turkish history books:

  “These are my sweet-voiced friends. I have spent my years with them. In particular, ever since I decided to visit Istanbul I have made good use of them. From them I learned the history and the beauty of Turkey. And I have even loved it. How I long to wander the crowded streets of Istanbul, the center of the world and its history, queen of the eastern world and a diamond among cities. But unfortunately all the Turkish I know I have taught myself from books. I trust to your friendship and your help with this.”

  I answered with surprise:

  “But Count, you speak Turkish very well! Indeed I thought you had been in Turkey for a long time.”

  “Thank you for your compliment, Turk Effendi. But I recognize I have much to learn. Yes, I know the grammar and the words well. But I lack practice.”

  I said again, “Count, you speak exceptionally well.”

  He laughed.

  “Yes, I do; hence I shall have no difficulty when I come to Istanbul. I can even manage much of my business myself. But Azmi Bey, this is not enough for me. I am one of the nobles of my country; I am a Boyar. Everyone here knows me; I am their master. They will respect me regardless. But this is not the case in a foreign country; there, nobody really cares about a stranger. If you make a mistake in grammar or in accent they will say, ‘Look at how this stranger speaks Turkish!’ and laugh at you to your face. I cannot bear that. I have been my own master for so long, I cannot accept the idea of someone else being master of me or laughing at me. Therefore you do not come here merely as the attorney of the business management director, Rıfat Bey, but you shall also sit here and help me with my pronunciation errors in Turkish! You may roam this castle however you like, but I hope you will wish to stay away from closed or locked doors.”

  And then we began to speak Turkish at the Count’s request. For a while I talked about the things I saw when I traveled here in the coach. He evaded some of my questions with skillful wordplay, and answered others in an easy manner:

  “Azmi Bey, remember, you are in Transylvania, known as Erdel in your history. This place is nothing like your country. Its traditions and beliefs are different. According to local superstition, for example, on one night of the year—the night you came—it is believed that all demons and witches are set free; and blue flames are seen in places where treasure has been concealed. It is probable that there were some hidden treasures in the places you passed in my coach. For your armies fought many bloody battles with the Wallachians and Saxons here, and the people of Transylvania used to bury their valuables in remote places like this. But those with the courage to mark the locations of these blue flames may find them the next day.”

  And then the Count said:

  “Now, Azmi Bey, my friend, tell me about the house you procured in Istanbul.”

  I arose from my seat, went to my room, and retrieved the necessary papers concerning the business. When I came back into the library, everything had been cleared; on the table was a large-scale block plan of Istanbul, printed by the Istanbul city council some time ago. The fact that the Count placed this much importance on everything was surprising. I began to describe in detail the purchased house, and to my great surprise I found that the Count knew the neighborhoods of Istanbul, particularly the one in which the mansion is situated, almost better than myself! Finally all the necessary facts were given, the Count signed some papers, and a letter was written to my director, Rıfat Bey.

  The mansion we procured for Count Dracula was in a neighborhood matching his stated requirements and of the type he requested. Count Dracula desired a building reminiscent of the Turkish spirit, with a large garden and in a quiet area. And he had written that no expense should be spared. Apparently he wished to live in a place known for its historical significance, full of old life and poetry, like the famous French writer and old Istanbul enthusiast Pierre Loti. The mansion we purchased was the remains of an old public building outside Eyüp and was, according to the locals, scheduled to be demolished. In a far corner of its garden there were such buildings as a stable, servants’ quarters, and a mausoleum.

  The Count was very pleased with this description. Presently, with an excuse, Count Dracula left the library. As I looked at the Istanbul map in front of me, I observed some circles drawn in pencil around certain neighborhoods; one of those markings was just over the area of Eyüp where we purchased the mansion. In addition, there were circles around Bakırköy, Şişli, and Sarıyer. Did this man want, or had he already bought, property in these areas as well?

  After about half an hour, the Count returned.

  “Ohhh,” he said, “you are still busy with the books, it seems. But this is too much work. Please come, they have informed me that your supper is ready.”

  He took my arm and we went out. An excellent table was set in the parlor. Count Dracula again told me that he was not h
ungry and apologized for not joining me. I sat down to table alone; while I ate, he chatted and asked me questions. After dinner, although it felt very late I said nothing. Because I had gotten plenty of sleep, I did not feel tired.

  Finally, the crow of a rooster was heard through the chill of the morning, and suddenly Count Dracula leapt from his chair and said:

  “Oh, I have kept you up all night again. You are such good company, I did not notice the passage of time.”

  And he left the room with a graceful bow.

  8 May.—When I began this journal I was worried about going into too many specifics, but now I am happy that I have discussed every event in detail. I am witnessing and experiencing so many strange phenomena that it is impossible not to feel afraid. Ah, if only I could be safely out of here. Or had never come here in the first place! Perhaps sitting up every night until the morning has made me lose my nerve. But if only that were all… If I could find a friend to talk to, I could put up with this. However, it is impossible! The only one I can speak to is Count Dracula. But the Count, this man…

  Oh, I am frightened. Could I be the only living soul in this castle?

  When I went to bed I could not manage to sleep, so after tossing and turning for a while, I rose. I had hung my small shaving mirror beside the window, and to make use of my free time I had begun to shave, when suddenly I saw a hand touching my shoulder and heard the Count say:

  “Good morning!”

  I was greatly startled, for although the mirror in front of me displayed the entire room, I could not see Count Dracula in it! When I turned my head toward him in astonishment, I cut my face with the razor, though I did not notice it. After greeting the Count, I turned to the mirror once again to see if I had been mistaken. This time there could be no possibility that I was wrong; for the Count was standing right behind me and I was able to see over my shoulder. But there was still no reflection in the mirror! The area of the room behind me was visible, but there was no sign of any other man in the mirror except myself.