St. Mary’s Churchyard in Whitby in Photos

Halloween is not my thing, but because I have these quite dark and mystic shots taken at St. Mary’s Churchyard in Whitby and because Bram Stoker’s Dracula was released 125 years ago (nice anniversary year number) I thought that now, on 31 October 2022, is time to publish those shots that I took more than twenty years ago.

Whitby and Dracula, you cannot separate them thanks to Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula that was released on 26 May 1897. When I visited Whitby on 18 February 2002, I was not thinking of Dracula. I travelled there to write an article about a gallery devoted to the work of a photographer Francis Meadow Sutcliffe. I had arrived on previous evening, so I had a whole day for Whitby on the following day. I started my day by visiting the gallery and after the work part of my Whitby visit was done, I ascended those famous 199 steps (also mentioned in Dracula) to reach St. Mary’s Church or in my case, the burial ground.

If I remember correctly, I had done no plans for my Whitby visit besides the gallery visit. So, I guess I just saw the steps and naturally decided to see what’s in the other end of them. I found this beautiful burial ground and the sky was perfect for photographs. So, these photos were born without any big plans.

Unfortunately, I didn’t study the headstones, I just took photos. But you can read about the graveyard and its history and about the grave of Humpty Dumpty (well, sort of, I missed that, too) for example here (the Whitby Guide) and here (Dead Good Travel).

As the burial ground is located on top of the East Cliff of Whitby, there is a good view to … at least to the harbour as when looking at my shots, I have taken photos only of the harbour lighthouses that I could spot from the cliff.

(Advice regarding watching the photos… as I have for some strange reason taken only vertical shots, I decided to publish them here in groups of two or three. You can see them bigger by clicking the image and then you come back to this main site by clicking the tiny x on the top right-hand corner, that’s the quickest way.)

Occasionally the sun was appearing…

And before you ask, no, I didn’t go to have a closer look at the Whitby Abbey ruins either. But I got it included in these three shots below:

There was a bright full moon, with heavy black, driving clouds, which threw the whole scene into a fleeting diorama of light and shade as they sailed across. For a moment or two I could see nothing, as the shadow of a cloud obscured St. Mary’s Church and all around it. Then as the cloud passed I could see the ruins of the abbey coming into view; and as the edge of a narrow band of light as sharp as a sword-cut moved along, the church and the churchyard became gradually visible. Whatever my expectation was, it was not disappointed, for there, on our favourite seat, the silver light of the moon struck a half-reclining figure, snowy white. The coming of the cloud was too quick for me to see much, for shadow shut down on light almost immediately; but it seemed to me as though something dark stood behind the seat where the white figure shone, and bent over it. What it was, whether man or beast, I could not tell; I did not wait to catch another glance, but flew down the steep steps to the pier and along by the fish-market to the bridge, which was the only way to reach the East Cliff. (Source)

This is what one character in Stoker’s Dracula, Mina, had written in her diary. She had looked across the harbour to the East Cliff when she was searching for Lucy. As my copy of the book is a Finnish translation, I had to use an internet source for this quote. My last two images are of the above-mentioned St. Mary’s Church:

I had planned to visit Whitby again, but it never happened. It might be that I won’t ever go there anymore. But I am glad I could capture these scenes on the top of East Cliff.

Photos and text © Katriina Etholén