{"id":104340,"date":"2016-10-31T15:03:36","date_gmt":"2016-10-31T19:03:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=104340"},"modified":"2016-10-31T15:03:36","modified_gmt":"2016-10-31T19:03:36","slug":"something-blood-part-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/10\/31\/something-blood-part-3\/","title":{"rendered":"Something in the Blood, Part 3"},"content":{"rendered":"

To celebrate Halloween, we\u2019re publishing a selection of excerpts from David J. Skal\u2019s <\/em>Something in the Blood<\/a>, a\u00a0biography of Bram Stoker<\/em>, out<\/em>\u00a0this month with\u00a0Liveright.\u00a0Today: letters\u00a0between Stoker and Walt Whitman, published in full for the first time in<\/em>\u00a0Something in the Blood. Stoker, moved by\u00a0<\/em>Leaves of Grass, was an ardent fan of Whitman\u2014he and his Trinity College peers called themselves \u201cWalt Whitmanites.\u201d He\u00a0kept his first letter to the poet, a meandering and adoring document, in his desk for four years before gathering the courage to send it. \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\"Bram<\/a>

Bram Stoker at age twenty-five.<\/p><\/div>\n

DUBLIN, IRELAND, FEB 18, 1872<\/p>\n

If you are the man I take you to be you will like to get this letter. If you are not I don\u2019t care whether you like it or not and only ask that you put it into the fire without reading any farther. But I believe you will like it. I don\u2019t think there is a man living, even you who are above the prejudices of the class of small-minded men, who wouldn\u2019t like to get a letter from a younger man, a stranger, across the world\u2014a man living in an atmosphere prejudiced to the truths you sing and your manner of singing them. The idea that arises in my mind is whether there is a man living who would have the pluck to burn a letter in which he felt the smallest atom of interest without reading it. I believe you would and that you believe you would yourself. You can burn this now and test yourself, and all I will ask for my trouble of writing this letter, which for all I can tell you may light your pipe with or apply to some more ignoble purpose\u2014is that you will in some manner let me know that my words have tested your impatience. Put it in the fire if you like\u2014but if you do you will miss the pleasure of the next sentence which ought to be that you have conquered an unworthy impulse. A man who is certain of his own strength might try to encourage himself a piece of bravo, but a man who can write, as you have written, the most candid words that ever fell from the lips of a mortal man\u2014a man to whose candor Rousseau\u2019s Confessions<\/em> is reticence\u2014can have no fear for his own strength. If you have gone this far you may read the letter and I feel in writing now that I am talking to you. If I were before your face I would like to shake hands with you, for I feel that I would like you. I would like to call YOU Comrade and to talk to you as men who are not poets do not often talk. I think that at first a man would be ashamed, for a man cannot in a moment break the habit of comparative reticence that has become second nature to him; but I know I would not long be ashamed to be natural before you. You are a true man, and I would like to be one myself, and so I would be towards you as a brother and as a pupil to his master. In this age no man becomes worthy of the name without an effort. You have shaken off the shackles and your wings are free. I have the shackles on my shoulders still\u2014but I have no wings. If you are going to read this letter any further I should tell you that I am not prepared to \u201cgive up all else\u201d so far as words go. The only thing I am prepared to give up is prejudice, and before I knew you I had begun to throw overboard my cargo, but it is not all gone yet. I do not know how you will take this letter. I have not addressed you in any form as I hear that you dislike to a certain degree the conventional forms in letters. I am writing to you because you are different from other men. If you were the same as the mass I would not write at all. As it is I must either call you Walt Whitman or not call you at all\u2014and I have chosen the latter course. I do not know whether it is unusual for you to get letters from utter strangers who have not even the claim of literary brotherhood to write you. If it is you must be frightfully tormented with letters and I am sorry to have written this. I have, however, the claim of liking you\u2014for your words are your own soul and even if you do not read my letter it is no less a pleasure to me to write it. Shelley wrote to William Godwin and they became friends. I am not Shelley and you are not Godwin and so I will only hope that sometime I may meet you face to face and perhaps shake hands with you. If I ever do it will be one of the greatest pleasures of my life \u2026 The way I came to you was this. A notice of your poems appeared some two years ago or more in Temple Bar<\/em> magazine. I glanced at it and took its dictum as final, and laughed at you among friends. I say it to my own shame but not to regret for it has taught me a lesson to last my life out\u2014without ever having seen your poems<\/em>. More than a year after I heard two men in College talking of you. One of them had your book (Rossetti\u2019s edition) and was reading aloud some passages at which both laughed. They chose only those passages which are most\u00a0foreign to British ears and made fun of them. Something struck me that I had judged you hastily. I took home the volume and read far into the night. Since then I have to thank you for many happy hours, for I have read your poems with my door locked late at night and I have read them on the seashore where I could look all round me and see no more sign of human life than the ships out at sea: and here I often found myself waking up from a reverie with the book open before me. I love all poetry, and high generous thoughts make the tears rush to my eyes, but sometimes a word or a phrase of yours takes me away from the world around me and places me in an ideal land surrounded by realities more than any poem I ever read.\u00a0Last year I was sitting on the beach on a summer\u2019s day reading your preface to the Leaves of Grass<\/em> as printed in Rossetti\u2019s edition \u2026 One thought struck me and I pondered over it for several hours\u2014\u201cthe weather-beaten vessels entering new ports,\u201d you who wrote the words know them better than I do: and to you who sing of your land of progress the words have a meaning that I can only imagine.\u00a0But be assured of this Walt Whitman\u2014that a man of less than half your own age, reared a conservative in a conservative country, and who has always heard your name cried down by the great mass of people who mention it, here felt his heart leap towards you across the Atlantic and his soul swelling at the words or rather the thoughts. It is vain for me to quote an instances of what thoughts of yours I like best\u2014for I like them all and you must feel you are reading the true words of one who feels with you. You see, I have called you by your name. I have been more candid with you\u2014have said more about myself to you than I have said to anyone before. You will not be angry with me if you have read so far. You will not laugh at me for writing this to you. It was no small effort that I began to write and I feel reluctant to stop, but I must not tire you any more. If you would ever care to have more you can imagine, for you have a great heart, how much pleasure it would be to me to write more to you. How sweet a thing it is for a strong healthy man with a woman\u2019s eye and a child\u2019s wishes to feel that he can speak to a man who can be if he wishes father, and brother and wife to his soul. I don\u2019t think you will laugh, Walt Whitman, nor despise me, but at all events I thank you for all the love and sympathy you have given me in common with my kind.<\/p>\n

\u2014Bram Stoker<\/em><\/p>\n

41 STEVENS ST. CAMBDEN,
1. JERSEY, COR. WEST.
U.S. AMERICA,<\/p>\n

March 6, \u201976<\/p>\n

BRAM STOKER,\u2014My dear young man,\u2014Your letters have been most welcome to me\u2014welcome to me as a Person and then as Author\u2014I don\u2019t know which most. You did so well to write to me so unconventionally, so fresh, so manly, and affectionately too. I, too, hope (though it is not probable) that we will some day personally meet each other. Meantime, I send my friendship and thanks.<\/p>\n

Edward Dowden\u2019s letter containing among others your subscription for a copy of my new edition has just been recd. I shall send the book very soon by express in a package to his address. I have just written to E.D.<\/p>\n

My physique is entirely shatter\u2019d\u2014doubtless permanently\u2014from paralysis and other ailments. But I am up and dress\u2019d, and get out every day a little, live here quite lonesome, but hearty, and good spirits.\u2014Write to me again.<\/p>\n

\u2014Walt Whitman<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\n

These letters were originally printed in\u00a0<\/i>Something in the Blood: The Untold Story of Bram Stoker, the Man Who Wrote \u2018Dracula\u2019\u00a0by David J. Skal. Copyright \u00a9 2016 by David J. Skal. With permission of the publisher, Liveright Publishing Corporation. All rights reserved<\/i><\/a>.<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

To celebrate Halloween, we\u2019re publishing a selection of excerpts from David J. Skal\u2019s Something in the Blood, a\u00a0biography of Bram Stoker, out\u00a0this month with\u00a0Liveright.\u00a0Today: letters\u00a0between Stoker and Walt Whitman, published in full for the first time in\u00a0Something in the Blood. Stoker, moved by\u00a0Leaves of Grass, was an ardent fan of Whitman\u2014he and his Trinity College […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1092,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1900],"tags":[25471,25472,23436,199,4454,25470,5733,1214,9671,5965,1146,1120,3769,182,25398,2111,25469,25468,25473,6589,165,25397,5430,264,25474,11851],"class_list":["post-104340","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-correspondence","tag-admiration","tag-adoration","tag-affection","tag-biography","tag-bram-stoker","tag-confession","tag-correspondence-2","tag-dracula","tag-excerpts","tag-fans","tag-halloween","tag-ireland","tag-leaves-of-grass","tag-letters","tag-liveright","tag-love","tag-manly-affection","tag-manly-love","tag-meandering","tag-percy-bysshe-shelley","tag-poetry","tag-something-in-the-blood","tag-trinity-college","tag-walt-whitman","tag-walt-whitmanites","tag-william-godwin"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nLetters Between Bram Stoker and Walt Whitman<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"\u201cSometimes a word or a phrase of yours \u2026 places me in an ideal land surrounded by realities more than any poem I ever read.\u201d\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/10\/31\/something-blood-part-3\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Something in the Blood, Part 3 by Bram Stoker and Walt Whitman\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"October 31, 2016 \u2013 To celebrate Halloween, we\u2019re publishing a selection of excerpts from David J. 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