An Irish Girl’s Nightmare That Shaped a Literary Legend

Céad Míle Fáilte – and welcome to your Letter from Ireland for this week. December has well and truly arrived here in County Cork. The days are short now, with darkness falling by half four in the afternoon, and there’s a definite chill in the air that sends us reaching for an extra layer. The Christmas lights are twinkling in the towns and villages, bringing a bit of cheer to these darker days.

Earlier this week, we had another named Atlantic Storm blow in from the southwest – this time called “Storm Bram”. It was quite a big one, but luckily didn’t cause much damage. How are things in your part of the world today?

I’m sipping a cup of Barry’s tea as I write, and I hope you’ll join me with whatever you fancy as we settle into today’s letter. With “Storm Bram” named by the Irish meteorological service after one of Ireland’s great literary figures, it feels like the perfect moment to reflect on his most enduring creation – and on the remarkable Irish mother whose stories helped shape his imagination and his writing.

The Irish Mother Behind a Literary Legend

Charlotte Blake Thornley was born in Sligo town in 1818, into two of the most illustrious families of Ireland – the Blakes of Galway (one of the famous Tribes of Galway), and the O’Donnells of Tyrconnell. But her childhood was marked by horror that would rival any gothic novel.

While Charlotte was still a young girl, a cholera epidemic hit Sligo with devastating force in 1832 – this after two successive years of potato crop failure. The bodies mounted up all around her, and local carpenters couldn’t source enough wood to keep up with the required coffins for burials.

Imagine being a young girl in such a place – corpses lining the streets of your home town, wondering which of your family and friends might be next. Even more horrifying, some of these supposed “corpses” were still living, too weak to pull themselves back from the edge. These traumatic scenes would stay with Charlotte forever, and she would later pass them on to her children through vivid storytelling.

Stories That Shaped a Legend

Charlotte had a reputation as a storyteller, remembering countless folk tales that had been passed down through her Irish families. After marrying and moving to Dublin, she had several children. Her third child remained sick for an extended period, and he later recalled how she would keep him entertained during those long bedridden days with her stories.

It’s thought that Charlotte filled this boy’s imagination with old Irish legends and her first-hand accounts of the horrors she’d witnessed during the Sligo cholera epidemic. Among the myths she shared were tales like the Abhartach – the blood-drinking dwarf of Ulster, also known as the “Leacht Abhartach” (evil dwarf). According to legend, this creature was killed and buried, but kept rising from the grave. Only a sword made of Yew wood through the heart could finally destroy him for good.

She may also have told him of the “fear an drach fhola,” meaning “man of bad blood.” It’s fascinating that those last two words, “drach fhola”, are pronounced “Drawk-ola.”

This sickly child was Abraham, shortened to “Bram”, Stoker. He would go on to write one of the most widely-read books in the world.

From County Sligo to Transylvania

Have you ever read the original Dracula novel? I remember staying up late as a youngster to watch an old Dracula film – eventually ending up watching from behind the sofa, one hand over my eyes. It took less to scare us back in those days!

Though Bram Stoker left Ireland for London in 1878, it’s clear he brought a large part of his mother’s stories and imagination with him. When he published Dracula in 1897, the nightmarish characters and adventures he detailed eventually took up residence in the imaginations of millions across the world.

Through the years there has been a lot of speculation on the origins and meanings behind the supernatural characters in the book, but there is no doubt that it is deeply informed by the stories and first-hand accounts of famine and epidemic from his west of Ireland mother. The undead rising from their graves, the terror of plague and death, the ancient Irish legends of blood-drinking creatures were all woven together into a tale that continues to captivate readers over a century later.

Winter Evenings and Storytelling

These long December evenings are perfect for storytelling, aren’t they? Just as Charlotte entertained her sick son Bram with tales by the fireside, many of us will gather with family over the coming weeks to share stories of our own. It’s a tradition that connects us across the generations – from Charlotte’s Sligo childhood in the 1820s, through Bram’s Dublin sickbed, and down to our own firesides today.

How about you? Do you have stories and tales from your own Irish ancestors that have stayed with you? Do feel free to leave a comment below and let me know.

As you prepare for Christmas and the turning of the year, perhaps you’ll find yourself sharing family stories with your own children or grandchildren. Who knows what literary careers those tales might inspire?

That’s it for this week,

Slán for now,

Mike.