David Punter, ‘Echoes in the Animal House: The Lair of the White Worm’, in Bram Stoker: History, Psychoanalysis and the Gothic, eds. William Hughes and Andrew Smith (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1998).
David Seed, ‘Eruptions of the Primitive into the Present: The Jewel of Seven Stars and The Lair of the White Worm ’, in Bram Stoker: History, Psychoanalysis and the Gothic, eds. Hughes and Smith.
Carol Senf, ‘Dracula and The Lair of the White Worm ’. Bram Stoker’s Commentary on Victorian Science’, Gothic Studies, 2/2 (2000): 218–31.
RELATED TEXTS AND STUDIES
Joseph Andriano, Our Ladies of Darkness: Feminine Daemonology in Male Gothic Fiction (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1993).
Fred Botting, Gothic (London: Routledge, 1996).
Richard Davenport-Hines, Gothic: Four Hundred Years of Excess, Horror, Evil and Ruin (London: Fourth Estate, 1998).
Bram Dijkstra, Idols of Perversity: Fantasies of Feminine Evil in Fin-de-Siècle Culture (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1986).
Markman Ellis, The History of Gothic Fiction (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2001).
Christopher Frayling, Nightmare: The Birth of Horror (London: BBC Books, 1996).
David Glover, Vampires, Mummies and Liberals: Bram Stoker and the Politics of Popular Fiction (Durham: Duke University Press, 1996).
Lucy Hartley, Physiognomy and the Meaning of Expression in Nineteenth-Century Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001).
William Hughes, Beyond Dracula: Bram Stoker’s Fiction and its Cultural Context (Basingstoke: Macmillan/Palgrave, 2000). — and Andrew Smith, eds., Bram Stoker: History, Psychoanalysis and the Gothic (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1998).
Kelly Hurley, The Gothic Body: Sexuality, Materialism, and Degeneration at the ‘Fin de Siècle’ (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).
Darryl Jones, Horror: A Thematic History in Fiction and Film (London: Arnold Publishers, 2002).
Sally Ledger, The New Woman: Fiction and Feminism at the Fin de Siècle (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997).
David Punter, The Literature of Terror: A History of Gothic Fiction from 1765 to the Present Day, 2 vols. (London: Longman, 1996).
Elaine Showalter, Sexual Anarchy: Gender and Culture at the ‘Fin de Siècle’ (London: Virago Press, 1992).
A Note on the Texts
The text follows that of both the first edition of Dracula’s Guest and Other Weird Stories, collated by Florence Stoker and published in London in April 1914 by George Routledge & Sons Ltd (price 1s.) and the first edition of The Lair of the White Worm, published in London in November 1911 by William Rider and Son Ltd (price 6s.).
The Routledge edition of Dracula’s Guest and Other Weird Stories went through three impressions in 1914, and ten more in the next twenty years. A souvenir edition limited to 1, 000 copies was published in 1927 to mark the occasion of the 250th London performance of Dracula at the Prince of Wales’s Theatre in London. Given away to members of the audience, when the book was opened, a black bat (separately enclosed in the front cover), powered by elastic, flew out. In 1966 Jarrolds and Arrow simultaneously published the stories under the title Dracula’s Guest (price 15s., and 3s. 6d. respectively), and in 1974 Arrow published a reprinted edition with identical pagination. An American edition of Dracula’s Guest and Other Weird Stories was published in New York by Hillman-Curl Inc. in 1937 (price $1.50).
Following its initial publication in 1911, The Lair of the White Worm was subsequently published by W. Foulsham & Co. Ltd in 1925 (price 2s.); this edition was heavily abridged and partly rewritten (with the deletion of both the illustrations and several important passages), condensed to only twenty-eight chapters and 182 pages of text. The modern reprints from Arrow (1960), Jarrolds (1966) and Brandon (1991) used this condensed version instead of the original. An American edition of The Lair of the White Worm was published by The Paperback Library (New York) in May 1966 under the title The Garden of Evil. This edition contained the complete text of the original edition of The Lair of the White Worm.
Minor alterations in typography and punctuation (the length of dashes, single quotation marks for doubles and no full stop after personal titles or monarch’s numbers, e.g. Mr, Mrs, William IV) have been silently made throughout the text printed here to conform to house style. The majority of other inconsistencies of spelling and punctuation such as Stoker’s fickle use of the oxford comma, variant spellings (e.g. ‘realise’/‘realize’, ‘Walpurgis Nacht’/‘Walpurgis-Nacht’/‘Walpurgis night’, ‘to-day’/‘today’) and instances of double punctuation (:– and –, ) have been left as they originally occurred in the first edition. The exception to this is in ‘The Judge’s House’ where the first edition’s interchangeable use of ‘Malcolmson’ and ‘Malcomson’ has been regularized to ‘Malcolmson’. Obvious misspellings have also been silently corrected, for example ‘artistocratic’ has been amended to read ‘aristocratic’.
In a very few cases punctuation has been added where grammatically required, and very slight textual changes have been made where meaning would otherwise have been compromised. A list of such changes is given below:
page: line
1st edition
Penguin
10:12
cypress
cypress,
18:13–14
took ticket
took a ticket
30:8–9
she added. Dr
she added. [new para.]
Thornhill replied.
Dr Thornhill replied.
41:7
cat missing… face
cat, missing… face,
had
had
50:5
Brent’s Rock,
Brent’s Rock
52:10
close home
close to home
52:11
feelings
feeling
52:30
Wykham overcome
Wykham, overcome
56:22
eyes seemed
eyes, seemed
59:37
his object
his object,
61:13–14
Geoffrey in the torrent
Geoffrey, in the torrent
62:25
golden-hair
golden hair
66:21–2
to-night.’ The gipsy
to-night.’ [new para.]
The gipsy
67:23
then said.
then said:
72:31
close quarters with
close quarters, with
75:4
calmly for
calmly, for
77:36
She went on.
She went on:
79:22
Both men
Both men,
82:35
hopes which
hopes, which
87:29
Abel encumbered
Abel, encumbered
96:37
each shelf of which
each shelf, of which
109:31
grim, persistency
grim persistency
112:10–11
island for such
island, for such
112:16
I suppose half a
I suppose, half a
115:20
efforts to destroy
efforts to destroy the
the bridge was
bridge were
123:31
seek for him
seek for him,
125:21
to the uprightness
to uprightness
Scotch song.
Scotch song,
131:12
sporran that
sporran, that
148:37
evening prayers.
evening prayers:
164:22
moved the previous
moved from the
previous
204:11
duties truth
duties, truth
223:29
was, that
was that
226:17
birds, beast, fishes
birds, beasts, fishes
240:18
Watford as key
Watford a key
256:30
With the outside
The outside
260:12
such as mark
such as marks
283:10
metals, has
metals has
303:10
Adam held him
Adam held out to him
308:6
fast;
fast,
311:2–3
alone by the ship
along by the ship canal
canal
315:17–18
had no fears
had fears
316:7
time, soon passes
time soon passes
318:21–2
ordeal, braced him
ordeal braced him
323:6–7
great truth, ’ Sir
great truth.’ [new para]
Nathaniel went on
cheerfully
cheerfully
328:13
any disagreeable
anything disagreeable
331:33–4
herself and
herself, and
362:23
and that as
and as
363:9
last, that
last that
DRACULA’S GUEST
and Other Weird Stories
CONTENTS
DRACULA’S GUEST
THE JUDGE’S HOUSE
THE SQUAW
THE SECRET OF THE GROWING GOLD
A GIPSY PROPHECY
THE COMING OF ABEL BEHENNA
THE BURIAL OF THE RATS
A DREAM OF RED HANDS
CROOKEN SANDS
DRACULA’S GUEST
When we started for our drive the sun was shining brightly on Munich, 1 and the air was full of the joyousness of early summer. Just as we were about to depart, Herr Delbrück (the maître d’hôtel of the Quatre Saisons, where I was staying) came down, bareheaded, to the carriage and, after wishing me a pleasant drive, said to the coachman, still holding his hand on the handle of the carriage door:
‘Remember you are back by nightfall. The sky looks bright but there is a shiver in the north wind that says there may be a sudden storm. But I am sure you will not be late.’ Here he smiled, and added, ‘for you know what night it is.’
Johann answered with an emphatic, ‘Ja, mein Herr, ’ and, touching his hat, drove off quickly. When we had cleared the town, I said, after signalling to him to stop:
‘Tell me, Johann, what is to-night?’
He crossed himself, as he answered laconically: ‘Walpurgis nacht.’2 Then he took out his watch, a great, old-fashioned German silver thing as big as a turnip, and looked at it, with his eyebrows gathered together and a little impatient shrug of his shoulders. I realised that this was his way of respectfully protesting against the unnecessary delay, and sank back in the carriage, merely motioning him to proceed. He started off rapidly, as if to make up for lost time. Every now and then the horses seemed to throw up their heads and sniffed the air suspiciously.3 On such occasions I often looked round in alarm. The road was pretty bleak, for we were traversing a sort of high, wind-swept plateau. As we drove, I saw a road that looked but little used, and which seemed to dip through a little, winding valley. It looked so inviting that, even at the risk of offending him, I called Johann to stop – and when he had pulled up, I told him I would like to drive down that road. He made all sorts of excuses, and frequently crossed himself as he spoke. This somewhat piqued my curiosity, so I asked him various questions. He answered fencingly, and repeatedly looked at his watch in protest. Finally I said:
‘Well, Johann, I want to go down this road. I shall not ask you to come unless you like; but tell me why you do not like to go, that is all I ask.’ For answer he seemed to throw himself off the box, so quickly did he reach the ground. Then he stretched out his hands appealingly to me, and implored me not to go. There was just enough of English mixed with the German for me to understand the drift of his talk. He seemed always just about to tell me something – the very idea of which evidently frightened him; but each time he pulled himself up, saying, as he crossed himself: ‘Walpurgis-Nacht!’
I tried to argue with him, but it was difficult to argue with a man when I did not know his language. The advantage certainly rested with him, for although he began to speak in English, of a very crude and broken kind, he always got excited and broke into his native tongue – and every time he did so, he looked at his watch. Then the horses became restless and sniffed the air. At this he grew very pale, and, looking around in a frightened way, he suddenly jumped forward, took them by the bridles and led them on some twenty feet. I followed, and asked why he had done this. For answer he crossed himself, pointed to the spot we had left and drew his carriage in the direction of the other road, indicating a cross, and said, first in German, then in English: ‘Buried him – him what killed themselves.’
I remembered the old custom of burying suicides at crossroads:4 ‘Ah! I see, a suicide. How interesting!’ But for the life of me I could not make out why the horses were frightened.
Whilst we were talking, we heard a sort of sound between a yelp and a bark. It was far away; but the horses got very restless, and it took Johann all his time to quiet them. He was pale, and said: ‘It sounds like a wolf – but yet there are no wolves here now.’
‘No?’ I said, questioning him; ‘isn’t it long since the wolves were so near the city?’
‘Long, long, ’ he answered, ‘in the spring and summer; but with the snow the wolves have been here not so long.’
Whilst he was petting the horses and trying to quiet them, dark clouds drifted rapidly across the sky. The sunshine passed away, and a breath of cold wind seemed to drift past us. It was only a breath, however, and more in the nature of a warning than a fact, for the sun came out brightly again. Johann looked under his lifted hand at the horizon and said:
‘The storm of snow, he comes before long time.’ Then he looked at his watch again, and, straightway holding his reins firmly – for the horses were still pawing the ground restlessly and shaking their heads – he climbed to his box as though the time had come for proceeding on our journey.
I felt a little obstinate and did not at once get into the carriage.
‘Tell me, ’ I said, ‘about this place where the road leads, ’ and I pointed down.
Again he crossed himself and mumbled a prayer, before he answered: ‘It is unholy.’
‘What is unholy?’ I enquired.
‘The village.’
‘Then there is a village?’
‘No, no. No one lives there hundreds of years.’ My curiosity was piqued: ‘But you said there was a village.’
‘There was.’
‘Where is it now?’
Whereupon he burst out into a long story in German and English, so mixed up that I could not quite understand exactly what he said, but roughly I gathered that long ago, hundreds of years, men had died there and been buried in their graves; and sounds were heard under the clay, and when the graves were opened, men and women were found rosy with life, and their mouths red with blood.5 And so, in haste to save their lives (aye, and their souls! – and here he crossed himself) those who were left fled away to other places, where the living lived, and the dead were dead and not – not something. He was evidently afraid to speak the last words. As he proceeded with his narration, he grew more and more excited. It seemed as if his imagination had got hold of him, and he ended in a pe
rfect paroxysm of fear – white-faced, perspiring, trembling and looking round him, as if expecting that some dreadful presence would manifest itself there in the bright sunshine on the open plain. Finally, in an agony of desperation, he cried:
‘Walpurgis nacht!’ and pointed to the carriage for me to get in. All my English blood rose at this, and, standing back, I said:
‘You are afraid, Johann – you are afraid. Go home; I shall return alone; the walk will do me good.’ The carriage door was open. I took from the seat my oak walking-stick – which I always carry on my holiday excursions – and closed the door, pointing back to Munich, and said, ‘Go home, Johann – Walpurgis-nacht doesn’t concern Englishmen.’
The horses were now more restive than ever, and Johann was trying to hold them in, while excitedly imploring me not to do anything so foolish. I pitied the poor fellow, he was so deeply in earnest; but all the same I could not help laughing. His English was quite gone now. In his anxiety he had forgotten that his only means of making me understand was to talk my language, so he jabbered away in his native German. It began to be a little tedious. After giving the direction, ‘Home!’ I turned to go down the cross-road into the valley.
With a despairing gesture, Johann turned his horses towards Munich. I leaned on my stick and looked after him. He went slowly along the road for a while: then there came over the crest of the hill a man tall and thin. I could see so much in the distance. When he drew near the horses, they began to jump and kick about, then to scream with terror. Johann could not hold them in; they bolted down the road, running away madly. I watched them out of sight, then looked for the stranger, but I found that he, too, was gone.