Dracula & West Point
Henry Irving and Helen Terry. Source: Archives, Calvin College
On March 19, 1888, as the East Coast dug out from one of the worst blizzards of the century, a train carrying a unique group of passengers made its way north from Weehawken, New Jersey to the Military Academy at West Point. Onboard were some of the world’s most renowned Shakespearean actors, including famed British thespian Henry Irving, later to become the first actor to be knighted, and the legendary Ellen Terry.
Irving was a dominant figure in the theater world in the last quarter of the 19th century as both an actor and as manager of London’s Lyceum Theatre. In Britain and around the world, Irving oversaw the production and direction of classical English plays while also acting in key roles. His portrayals of Hamlet, Macbeth, and Shylock played to packed houses.
During trips to America, Irving became acquainted with West Point through friendships with Colonel Peter Michie and other professors, and he and Ellen Terry would sometimes vacation at Cranston’s Hotel, the preeminent established of the area. It was situated on the hill in Buttermilk Falls (Highland Falls) where the West Point Museum and Five Star Inn are today. On an earlier trip to West Point, Irving had told Michie that he wanted to do a performance for the cadets at the Academy. When the 1887-1888 residency at New York City’s Star Theatre — 13th and Broadway near Union Square — came about, Irving reiterated his interest to Michie. Academy leaders elevated Irving’s request to the Secretary of War, who, to everyone’s surprise, graciously agreed.
The logistics of such a performance were complicated. Irving wanted cadets to come to New York City, but the Academy refused to let cadets miss classes and thought it was a risk to discipline. A matinee was also rejected because of the loss of class time. In the end, Irving agreed to close down the Star Theatre for the night of March 11, 1888, at great expense, and bring his entire troupe and sets to West Point.
New York City during the Blizzard of March, 1888. Source: Library of Congress
And then the blizzard struck.
Between 10 and 60 inches of snow plus winds reported to be 100mph in some places created huge drifts that crippled transportation and clogged the streets of cities from Maryland to Maine. For days, New York City was paralyzed, as was the Hudson Valley. A report out of Newburgh says 4’ of snow was common.
At West Point, 15-foot snowdrifts clogged the Barracks sally port and forced the Academy to cut food rations in half as deliveries became impossible. Marching to meals in formation was suspended because the paths through the snow were barely one person wide, and cadets took to jumping out of upper-story barracks windows into snowdrifts for fun. The West Shore Rail tunnel under the Plain was also blocked by snow and a Utica express train stalled in the snow at West Point, shutting down the line for days.
After several days, Irving worked with train officials and managed to arrange a special 4-car train that left Weehawken at 2:30 pm on March 19th for West Point. They were helped in the effort by General Horace Porter, USMA Class of 1860, who had been president of the West Shore Railroad, the line used to get to West Point. As Grant’s former personal secretary, Porter had influence.
The rail company was only able to spare four cars for the entire company of actors, musicians, dressers, and staff. Two cars for the gentlemen, a parlor car for the ladies, and a baggage car made up the special train. Irving’s dog “Fussy” accompanied the players. But the storm made it impossible to bring sets.
Grant Hall, West Point’s mess hall. Source: USMA Archives.
A small platform had already been erected in Grant Hall, the mess hall, by Irving’s crew, and the troupe had practiced on an equally-sized space. Behind the stage, British and American flags were hung and a makeshift curtain was arranged. Two limelights brought by Irving were used. These were the spotlights of the day, creating a bright light by heating quicklime (calcium oxide) with a flame of oxygen and hydrogen.
The play was The Merchant of Venice. Lacking sets, signs were hung that indicated the location of a scene, such as, “Venice: A Public Place.” Academy furniture was changed scene-by-scene. Tables were removed and benches brought in so that all cadets and Academy personnel were able to gather for the special event. The Corps sat in the front rows, in uniform, by class.
Many cadets had never seen a professional play before and were enthralled. By March of any winter in the 19th century, cadets had been isolated for months, so the experience was quite a treat. Ellen Terry was known as a particularly charming performer and easily won the hearts of the room. She even visited the one absent cadet that night, a young man stuck in the Cadet’s Hospital.
At the end of the show, every cadet in the room spontaneously threw their hat in the air and cheered. This was a punishable offense without permission, but Academy leadership ignored the breach of regulation. Cadets demanded a curtain call by the players and Irving gave a short speech. Thrilled, he declared that “...for the first time the British have captured West Point!”
A couple of professors canceled assignments for the next day, but in finest West Point form, most did not. Life went on at West Point, but based on letters sent home in the days after the performance, the extravaganza was a memorable one for the Corps. Some of the letters were published in newspapers across the country.
So, Dracula. In attendance on that March night was the Lyceum’s business manager, Bram Stoker. Nine years after the West Point performance, Stoker would publish his novel Dracula, featuring a title character that would become world-famous in the 20th century.
Bram Stoker about 20 years after his visit to West Point. Source: National Portrait Gallery, London.
Born in Dublin in 1847 at the height of the potato famine, Stoker was a sickly child and supposedly couldn’t even stand for much of his childhood. He would have likely endured treatments such as bloodletting. His exact malady is unknown. The child of a civil servant and a strong mother, he eventually became well enough to get some proper schooling and managed to enroll at Trinity College, Dublin, where he was a mediocre student. After a couple of years, he too became a civil servant before graduating, but a year into his job, he returned to school and became an extracurricular powerhouse, a star on the rugby pitch and in meetings of the Philosophical Society.
Long interested in theater, Stoker began working on the side as a critic. He had become enamored with Henry Irving after seeing the actor years in Dublin. Stoker’s near-total infatuation with Irving has been written about by many biographers. In 1871, Stoker reviewed Irving in a production of Hamlet which the actor read. Irving invited Stoker to dinner and they became friends.
By 1878, Stoker had married and moved to London, where he became a manager and eventually the business manager of the Lyceum Theatre, which Irving took control of in the same year. For the next 30 years, Stoker and Irving would work together with the future Dracula author traveling with the troupe around the world. Stoker would eventually set two novels in America and Dracula features a prominent American character, Quincey Morris. Stoker’s job as the Theatre’s business manner can be seen in Dracula in the details that he put into the novel’s travel scenes.
Stoker biographers and Dracula enthusiasts commonly state that Irving was one of the strongest influences on the development of the character Count Dracula. First, Irving’s physical appearance is very close to the novel’s description of the Count, which differs from the 20th-century movie stereotype of the suave romantic:
His face was a strong, a very strong, aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils, with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth. These protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale, and at the tops extremely pointed. The chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary pallor (Stoker 1897, Chapter 2).
Sir Henry Irving Source: Library of Congress
Another connection between the Count & Irving relates to the actor’s personality. Writers have suggested that Irving’s management style was to use people to feed his ego. In other words, he could drain the life from someone.
So, on that March day in 1888, not only did the creator of Dracula visit West Point but so too did the Count himself, in a way.
Selected Sources:
“At Rondout.” The Buffalo Commercial (Buffalo, NY), Mar. 13, 1888.
“Snow-Plows Stuck.” The Times (Philadelphia, PA), March 15, 1888
Stoker, Bram. Dracula. London: Archibald Constable & Co, 1987.
Stoker, Bram. Personal Reminiscences of Henry Irving - Volume 1. United Kingdom: Macmillan, 1906.
”West Point Captured.” Omaha Daily Bee (Omaha, NE), Mar. 21, 1888.
“A Unique Theatre Party.” The Sun (New York, NY), Mar. 20, 1888.
