The Life of Bram Stoker (1846-1912)
by R. L. Fisher
Abraham "Bram" Stoker was born near Dublin on November 8, 1847, the third of seven children. An unidentified illness kept him virtually bedridden until age seven. Was the ailment of physical or psychological origin? Was it responsible for Stoker's periodic lapses into morbidity? As with so much of Stoker's life, the truth of this matter remains shrouded in mystery.
Although he remained shy and bookish, in his adolescence Bram Stoker was anything but sickly. Perhaps to make amends for his earlier frailty, he was by this time developing into a fine athlete. At Trinity College, Dublin, he would conquer his shyness and be named University Athlete for his skill in soccer and the marathon walking event. And so he was not the frail figure we might have imagined, but a robust and genial young man, outgoing, bearded, and deft in debate, who graduated Trinity with honors in mathematics and turned his attention to the task of making a living.
Young Bram had always dreamed of becoming a writer, but his father had safer plans. Yielding to the elder's wishes, he followed his father into a career as a civil servant in Dublin Castle. While climbing the civil service ladder, he wrote a dry tome entitled Duties of Clerks of Petty Sessions in Ireland. This book of rules, however, would not be published until 1879, by which time Stoker would be married, living in another country, and immersed in a new career.
During his eight-year stint in the civil service, Stoker continued to write stories, the first of which, a dream fantasy entitled "The Crystal Cup" (1872), was published by The London Society. A serialized four-part horror piece, entitled "The Chain of Destiny" followed three years later in the The Shamrock. He also found time to take unpaid positions as theatrical critic for Dublin's Evening Mail and, later, as editor of The Irish Echo.
At Trinity, Stoker had been dazzled by the acting talent of Henry Irving, whom he had seen in a performance at Dublin's Theatre Royal. Almost a decade later, Irving returned to Dublin to star in the role of Hamlet. Stoker's complimentary reviews in the Mail must have been appreciated by the actor, for he invited the critic to meet him backstage. A friendship developed from that meeting which would last for nearly thirty years.
Two years later, in 1878, Irving offered Stoker the job of actor-manager at London's Lyceum Theatre. Stoker promptly resigned the civil service, married Florence Balcombe, the nineteen-year-old beauty he had planned to wed the following year, and set off for his new life in London. Within a year, Florence had given birth to their only child, a son, Noel, but Stoker and his wife, though continuing to keep up appearances, are said to have become estranged.
In any case, Stoker's heavy workload must have left him little time for home life. His duties included keeping track of more than a hundred and twenty staff member, handling international tour arrangements, writing volumes of correspondence, balancing the Lyceum's books and protecting the wildly-admired actor from those who would exploit his fame.
Still, amazingly, Stoker somehow found the time
to write fiction. His first book, Under the Sunset (1882), consisted
of eight eerie fairy tales for children. His first full-length novel, The
Snake's Pass, was published in 1890. That same year marks the beginning
of Stoker's research for his masterwork, Dracula, which, seen years
later, would launch its bloodthirsty protagonist, Count Dracula (if not
the author himself), on a course toward world-wide acclaim.
Afterword
Bram Stoker seemed fated to bathe in the reflected glory of two individuals, one real--the actor Henry Irving--and the other a product of his own imagination--Count Dracula. As Irving's manager, he had occasion to rub elbows with some of the most prominent people of the day, among them Walt Whitman, the artist Whistler, Mark Twain, the novelist George Eliot, and four American presidents. Yet, just as Stoker's fortunes rose with those of Irving, so did they fall.
In 1898, a year after the publication of Dracula, a fire in the Lyceum's storage buildings decimated a fortune in theatrical paraphernalia. Two years later, declining health caused Sir Henry (who was, incidentally, the first actor ever to be knighted), to turn over his beloved Lyceum Theatre to a syndicate. Two years after that, the theater closed; five years later, the actor died.
After Irving's death, Stoker, who was himself ill (possibly with syphilis) and dependent on his literary efforts for his support, produced a number of books, including The Man (1905), Personal Reminiscences of Henry Irving (1906), Lady Athlyne (1908), The Lady of the Shroud (1909), Famous Impostors (1910), and The Lair of the White Worm (1911), but the publication of Dracula in 1897 was destined to remain the high point of Stoker's literary career. His novel The Jewel of Seven Stars (1903), which inspired the movies Blood from the Mummy's Tomb (1971) and The Awakening (1980), is generally considered to be the book that comes closest to recapturing the magic of Dracula, but even it is hardly better than a pale imitation of the original.
Had Bram Stoker lived to see the full ripening of his famous creation, he would certainly be a wealthy man. In addition to the book's royalties, which would have supported him admirably, Stoker's bank accounts would be bulging with income generated by dozens of movie sequels, including Dracula's Daughter (1936), Son of Dracula (1943), Horror of Dracula (1958), and Nosferatu (1922; remade in 1979); as well as royalties from countless toys, cartoons, comic books, knock-offs, imitations, and offshoots. No doubt he would be rich, but I doubt very much that he would be happy.
How, I wonder, would he feel if he were suddenly to return like one of his characters from the dead to find that his own reputation had been almost totally eclipsed by that of his creation? The name Dracula, after all, evokes instant recognition throughout the world, while the name Bram Stoker is likely to elicit little more than a scratch on the head, a glance at the ceiling, and the query, "who?"
Indeed, fame so thoroughly bypassed Bram Stoker that it prompted his nephew and biographer, Daniel Farson, to call him "one of the least known authors of one of the best known books ever written".
Even more vexing, I should imagine, would be seeing his creation parodied merciless in movies such as Dracula's Dog. I wonder what he would think if he saw his infamous protagonist, Count Dracula, so fearsome in his day, transformed into a carrot-sucking Bunnicula--a vampire rabbit? And what do you think it would do to his ego if he walked into a supermarket and happened upon a cartoon caricature of Dracula, his paragon of unadulterated evil, leering down at him from a box of Count Chocula breakfast cereal?
Come, now . . . money isn't everything!
All new material copyright © 1988 by Tom Doherty Associates, Inc.