Bram Stoker. Dracula.

DRACULA

by

Bram Stoker

1897 edition

CHAPTER 1

Jonathan Harker's Journal

3 May. Bistritz.__Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May,

arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived

at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a won-

derful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the

train and the little I could walk through the streets. I

feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived

late and would start as near the correct time as possible.

The impression I had was that we were leaving the West

and entering the East; the most western of splendid bridges

over the Danube, which is here of noble width and depth,

took us among the traditions of Turkish rule.

We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall

to Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel

Royale. I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done

up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty.

(Mem. get recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said

it was called "paprika hendl," and that, as it was a nation-

al dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the Car-

pathians.

I found my smattering of German very useful here, in-

deed, I don't know how I should be able to get on without

it.

Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I

had visited the British Museum, and made search among the

books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it

had struck me that some foreknowledge of the country could

hardly fail to have some importance in dealing with a

nobleman of that country.

I find that the district he named is in the extreme

east of the country, just on the borders of three states,

Transylvania, Moldavia, and Bukovina, in the midst of the

Carpathian mountains; one of the wildest and least known

portions of Europe.

I was not able to light on any map or work giving the

exact locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps

of this country as yet to compare with our own Ordance

Survey Maps; but I found that Bistritz, the post town named

by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall

enter here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory

when I talk over my travels with Mina.

In the population of Transylvania there are four dis-

tinct nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with

them the Wallachs, who are the descendants of the Dacians;

Magyars in the West, and Szekelys in the East and North. I

am going among the latter, who claim to be descended from

Attila and the Huns. This may be so, for when the Magyars

conquered the country in the eleventh century they found

the Huns settled in it.

I read that every known superstition in the world is

gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it

were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if

so my stay may be very interesting. (Mem., I must ask the

Count all about them.)

I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable

enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was

a dog howling all night under my window, which may have

had something to do with it; or it may have been the

paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my car-

afe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept

and was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door,

so I guess I must have been sleeping soundly then.

I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of

porridge of maize flour which they said was "mamaliga",

and egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat, a very excellent

dish, which they call "impletata". (Mem., get recipe for this

also.)

I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a

little before eight, or rather it ought to have done so,

for after rushing to the station at 7:30 I had to sit in

the carriage for more than an hour before we began to move.

It seems to me that the further east you go the more

unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China?

All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country

which was full of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw

little towns or castles on the top of steep hills such as we

see in old missals; sometimes we ran by rivers and streams

which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side of them

to be subject ot great floods. It takes a lot of water, and

running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear.

At every station there were groups of people, sometimes

crowds, and in all sorts of attire. Some of them were just

like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through

France and Germany, with short jackets, and round hats, and

home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque.

The women looked pretty, except when you got near them,

but they were very clumsy about the waist. They had all

full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them

had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering

from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there

were petticoats under them.

The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who

were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy

hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts,

and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all

studded over with brass nails. They wore high boots, with

their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair

and heavy black moustaches. They are very picturesque,

but do not look prepossessing. On the stage they would

be set down at once as some old Oriental band of brigands.

They are, however, I am told, very harmless and rather

wanting in natural self-assertion.

It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to

Bistritz, which is a very interesting old place. Being

practically on the frontier--for the Borgo Pass leads from

it into Bukovina--it has had a very stormy existence, and

it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago a series

of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on

five separate occasions. At the very beginning of the

seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks

and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper be-

ing assisted by famine and disease.

Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden

Krone Hotel, which I found, to my great delight, to be

thoroughly old-fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all

I could of the ways of the country.

I was evidently expected, for when I got near the

door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual

peasant dress--white undergarment with a long double apron,

front, and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight

for modesty. When I came close she bowed and said, "The

Herr Englishman?"

"Yes," I said, "Jonathan Harker."

She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in

white shirt-sleeves, who had followed her to the door.

He went, but immediately returned with a letter:

"My friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxious-

ly expecting you. Sleep well tonight. At three tomorrow

the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept

for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and

will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London

has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in

my beautiful land.--Your friend, Dracula."

4 May--I found that my landlord had got a letter from

the Count, directing him to secure the best place on the

coach for me; but on making inquiries as to details he seem-

ed somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not under-

stand my German.

This could not be true, because up to then he had under-

stood it perfectly; at least, he answered my questions

exactly as if he did.

He and his wife, the old lady who had received me, look-

ed at each other in a frightened sort of way. He mumbled out

that the money had been sent in a letter,and that was all he

knew. When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could

tell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed

themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply

refused to speak further. It was so near the time of start-

ing that I had no time to ask anyone else, for it was all

very mysterious and not by any means comforting.

Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my

room and said in a hysterical way: "Must you go? Oh! Young

Herr, must you go?" She was in such an excited state that

she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she knew,

and mixed it all up with some other language which I did

not know at all. I was just able to follow her by asking

many questions. When I told her that I must go at once, and

that I was engaged on important business, she asked again:

"Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was

the fourth of May. She shook her head as she said again:

"Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know

what day it is?"

On my saying that I did not understand, she went on:

"It is the eve of St. George's Day. Do you not know

that to-night, when the clock strikes midnight, all the

evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know

where you are going, and what you are going to?" She was

in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but

without effect. Finally, she went down on her knees and

implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two be-

fore starting.

It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel com-

fortable. However, there was business to be done, and I

could allow nothing to interfere with it.

I tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I

could, that I thanked her, but my duty was imperative, and

that I must go.

She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a cruci-

fix from her neck offered it to me.

I did not know what to do, for, as an English Church-

man, I have been taught to regard such things as in some

measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to re-

fuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of

mind.

She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put

the rosary round my neck and said, "For your mother's sake,"

and went out of the room.

I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am

waiting for the coach, which is, of course, late; and the

crucifix is still round my neck.

Whether it is the old lady's fear, or the many ghostly

traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not

know, but I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as

usual.

If this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let

it bring my good-bye. Here comes the coach!

5 May. The Castle.--The gray of the morning has passed,

and the sun is high over the distant horizon, which seems

jagged, whether with trees or hills I know not, for it is

so far off that big things and little are mixed.

I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I

awake, naturally I write till sleep comes.

There are many odd things to put down, and, lest who

reads them may fancy that I dined too well before I left

Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly.

I dined on what they called "robber steak"--bits of

bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and

strung on sticks, and roasted over the fire, in simple style

of the London cat's meat!

The wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer

sting on the tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable.

I had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing

else.

When I got on the coach, the driver had not taken his

seat, and I saw him talking to the landlady.

They were evidently talking of me, for every now and

then they looked at me, and some of the people who were

sitting on the bench outside the door--came and listened,

and then looked at me, most of them pityingly. I could hear

a lot of words often repeated, queer words, for there were

many nationalities in the crowd, so I quietly got my polyglot

dictionary from my bag and looked them out.

I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst

them were "Ordog"--Satan, "Pokol"--hell, "stregoica"--witch,

"vrolok" and "vlkoslak"--both mean the same thing, one being

Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either

werewolf or vampire. (Mem., I must ask the Count about these

superstitions.)

When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which

had by this time swelled to a considerable size, all made

the sign of the cross and pointed two fingers towards me.

With some difficulty, I got a fellow passenger to tell

me what they meant. He would not answer at first, but on

learning that I was English, he explained that it was a

charm or guard against the evil eye.

This was not very pleasant for me, just starting for an

unknown place to meet an unknown man. But everyone seemed

so kind-hearted, and so sorrowful, and so sympathetic that I

could not but be touched.

I shall never forget the last glimpse which I had of

the inn yard and its crowd of picturesque figures,all cross-

ing themselves, as they stood round the wide archway, with

its background of rich foliage of oleander and orange trees

in green tubs clustered in the centre of the yard.

Then our driver, whose wide linen drawers covered the

whole front of the boxseat,--"gotza" they call them--cracked

his big whip over his four small horses, which ran abreast,

and we set off on our journey.

I soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly fears in

the beauty of the scene as we drove along, although had I

known the language, or rather languages, which my fellow-

passengers were speaking, I might not have been able to

throw them off so easily. Before us lay a green sloping

land full of forests and woods, with here and there steep

hills, crowned with clumps of trees or with farmhouses, the

blank gable end to the road. There was everywhere a bewild-

ering mass of fruit blossom--apple, plum, pear, cherry. And

as we drove by I could see the green grass under the trees

spangled with the fallen petals. In and out amongst these

green hills of what they call here the "Mittel Land" ran the

road, losing itself as it swept round the grassy curve, or

was shut out by the straggling ends of pine woods, which

here and there ran down the hillsides like tongues of flame.

The road was rugged, but still we seemed to fly over it with

a feverish haste. I could not understand then what the haste

meant, but the driver was evidently bent on losing no time

in reaching Borgo Prund. I was told that this road is in

summertime excellent, but that it had not yet been put in

order after the winter snows. In this respect it is differ-

ent from the general run of roads in the Carpathians, for it

is an old tradition that they are not to be kept in too good

order. Of old the Hospadars would not repair them, lest the

Turk should think that they were preparing to bring in for-

eign troops, and so hasten the war which was always really

at loading point.

Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose

mighty slopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Car-

pathians themselves. Right and left of us they towered, with

the afternoon sun falling full upon them and bringing out

all the glorious colours of this beautiful range, deep blue

and purple in the shadows of the peaks, green and brown where

grass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged

rock and pointed crags, till these were themselves lost in

the distance, where the snowy peaks rose grandly. Here and

there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains, through which,

as the sun began to sink, we saw now and again the white

gleam of falling water. One of my companions touched my arm

as we swept round the base of a hill and opened up the lofty,

snow-covered peak of a mountain, which seemed, as we wound on

our serpentine way, to be right before us.

"Look! Isten szek!"--"God's seat!"--and he crossed him-

self reverently.

As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower

and lower behind us, the shadows of the evening began to

creep round us. This was emphasized by the fact that the

snowy mountain-top still held the sunset, and seemed to glow

out with a delicate cool pink. Here and there we passed

Cszeks and slovaks, all in picturesque attire, but I noticed

that goitre was painfully prevalent. By the roadside were

many crosses, and as we swept by, my companions all crossed

themselves. Here and there was a peasant man or woman kneel-

ing before a shrine, who did not even turn round as we

approached, but seemed in the self-surrender of devotion to

have neither eyes nor ears for the outer world. There were

many things new to me. For instance, hay-ricks in the trees,

and here and there very beautiful masses of weeping birch,

their white stems shining like silver through the delicate

green of the leaves.

Now and again we passed a leiter-wagon--the ordinary

peasants's cart--with its long, snakelike vertebra, calcu-

lated to suit the inequalities of the road. On this were

sure to be seated quite a group of homecoming peasants, the

Cszeks with their white, and the Slovaks with their coloured

sheepskins, the latter carrying lance-fashion their long

staves, with axe at end. As the evening fell it began to get

very cold, and the growing twilight seemed to merge into one

dark mistiness the gloom of the trees, oak, beech, and pine,

though in the valleys which ran deep between the spurs of

the hills, as we ascended through the Pass, the dark firs

stood out here and there against the background of late-

lying snow. Sometimes, as the road was cut through the pine

woods that seemed in the darkness to be closing down upon

us, great masses of greyness which here and there bestrewed

the trees, produced a peculiarly weird and solemn effect,

which carried on the thoughts and grim fancies engendered

earlier in the evening, when the falling sunset threw into

strange relief the ghost-like clouds which amongst the

Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly through the valleys.

Sometimes the hills were so steep that, despite our driver's

haste, the horses could only go slowly. I wished to get down

and walk up them, as we do at home, but the driver would not

hear of it. "No, no," he said. "You must not walk here. The

dogs are too fierce." And then he added, with what he evi-

dently meant for grim pleasantry--for he looked round to

catch the approving smile of the rest--"And you may have

enough of such matters before you go to sleep." The only

stop he would make was a moment's pause to light his lamps.

When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement

amongst the passengers, and they kept speaking to him, one

after the other, as though urging him to further speed. He

lashed the horses unmercifully with his long whip, and with

wild cries of encouragement urged them on to further

exertions. Then through the darkness I could see a sort of

patch of grey light ahead of us,as though there were a cleft

in the hills. The excitement of the passengers grew greater.

The crazy coach rocked on its great leather springs, and

swayed like a boat tossed on a stormy sea. I had to hold on.

The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly along. Then

the mountains seemed to come nearer to us on each side and

to frown down upon us. We were entering on the Borgo Pass.

One by one several of the passengers offered me gifts, which

they pressed upon me with an earnestness which would take no

denial. These were certainly of an odd and varied kind, but

each was given in simple good faith, with a kindly word, and

a blessing, and that same strange mixture of fear-meaning

movements which I had seen outside the hotel at Bistritz--

the sign of the cross and the guard against the evil eye.

Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned forward, and on

each side the passengers, craning over the edge of the coach,

peered eagerly into the darkness. It was evident that some-

thing very exciting was either happening or expected, but

though I asked each passenger, no one would give me the

slightest explanation. This state of excitement kept on for

some little time. And at last we saw before us the Pass

opening out on the eastern side. There were dark, rolling

clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense

of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had sepa-

rated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the

thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the convey-

ance which was to take me to the Count. Each moment I

expected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness, but

all was dark. The only light was the flickering rays of our

own lamps, in which the steam from our hard-driven horses

rose in a white cloud. We could see now the sandy road lying

white before us, but there was on it no sign of a vehicle.

The passengers drew back with a sigh of gladness, which

seemed to mock my own disappointment. I was already thinking

what I had best do, when the driver, looking at his watch,

said to the others something which I could hardly hear, it

was spoken so quietly and in so low a tone, I thought it was

"An hour less than the time." Then turning to me, he spoke

in German worse than my own.

"There is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected

after all. He will now come on to Bukovina, and return tomor-

row or the next day, better the next day." Whilst he was

speaking the horses began to neigh and snort and plunge

wildly, so that the driver had to hold them up. Then, amongst

a chorus of screams from the peasants and a universal cross-

ing of themselves, a caleche, with four horses, drove up be-

hind us, overtook us, and drew up beside the coach. I could

see from the flash of our lamps as the rays fell on them,

that the horses were coal-black and splendid animals. They

were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a

great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us. I

could only see the gleam of a pair of very bright eyes, which

seemed red in the lamplight, as he turned to us.

He said to the driver, "You are early tonight, my

friend."

The man stammered in reply, "The English Herr was in

a hurry."

To which the stranger replied, "That is why, I suppose,

you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me,

my friend. I know too much, and my horses are swift."

As he spoke he smiled,and the lamplight fell on a hard-

looking mouth, with very red lips and sharp-looking teeth,

as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered to another

the line from Burger's "Lenore".

"Denn die Todten reiten Schnell."

("For the dead travel fast.")

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he

looked up with a gleaming smile. The passenger turned his

face away, at the same time putting out his two fingers and

crossing himself. "Give me the Herr's luggage," said the

driver, and with exceeding alacrity my bags were handed out

and put in the caleche. Then I descended from the side of

the coach, as the caleche was close alongside, the driver

helping me with a hand which caught my arm in a grip of

steel. His strength must have been prodigious.

Without a word he shook his reins, the horses turned,

and we swept into the darkness of the pass. As I looked back

I saw the steam from the horses of the coach by the light

of the lamps,and projected against it the figures of my late

companions crossing themselves. Then the driver cracked his

whip and called to his horses, and off they swept on their

way to Bukovina. As they sank into the darkness I felt a

strange chill, and a lonely feeling come over me. But a

cloak was thrown over my shoulders, and a rug across my

knees, and the driver said in excellent German--

"The night is chill, mein Herr, and my master the Count

bade me take all care of you. There is a flask of slivovitz

(the plum brandy of the country) underneath the seat, if you

should require it."

I did not take any, but it was a comfort to know it was

there all the same. I felt a little strangely, and not a

little frightened. I think had there been any alternative I

should have taken it, instead of prosecuting that unknown

night journey. The carriage went at a hard pace straight

along, then we made a complete turn and went along another

straight road. It seemed to me that we were simply going

over and over the same ground again, and so I took note of

some salient point, and found that this was so. I would have

liked to have asked the driver what this all meant, but I

really feared to do so, for I thought that, placed as I was,

any protest would have had no effect in case there had been

an intention to delay.

By-and-by, however, as I was curious to know how time

was passing, I struck a match, and by its flame looked at my

watch. It was within a few minutes of midnight. This gave me

a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition

about midnight was increased by my recent experiences. I

waited with a sick feeling of suspense.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far

down the road, a long, agonized wailing, as if from fear.

The sound was taken up by another dog, and then another and

another, till, borne on the wind which now sighed softly

through the Pass, a wild howling began, which seemed to come

from all over the country, as far as the imagination could

grasp it through the gloom of the night.

At the first howl the horses began to strain and rear,

but the driver spoke to them soothingly, and they quieted

down, but shivered and sweated as though after a runaway

from sudden fright. Then, far off in the distance, from the

mountains on each side of us began a louder and a sharper

howling, that of wolves, which affected both the horses and

myself in the same way. For I was minded to jump from the

caleche and run, whilst they reared again and plunged madly,

so that the driver had to use all his great strength to keep

them from bolting. In a few minutes, however, my own ears

got accustomed to the sound, and the horses so far became

quiet that the driver was able to descend and to stand be-

fore them.

He petted and soothed them, and whispered something in

their ears, as I have heard of horse-tamers doing, and with

extraordinary effect, for under his caresses they became

quite manageable again, though they still trembled. The

driver again took his seat, and shaking his reins, started

off at a great pace. This time, after going to the far side

or the Pass, he suddenly turned down a narrow roadway which

ran sharply to the right.

Soon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places

arched right over the roadway till we passed as through a

tunnel. And again great frowning rocks guarded us boldly on

either side. Though we were in shelter, we could hear the

rising wind, for it moaned and whistled through the rocks,

and the branches of the trees crashed together as we swept

along. It grew colder and colder still, and fine, powdery

snow began to fall, so that soon we and all around us were

covered with a white blanket. The keen wind still carried

the howling of the dogs, though this grew fainter as we went

on our way. The baying of the wolves sounded nearer and near-

er, as though they were closing round on us from every side.

I grew dreadfully afraid, and the horses shared my fear. The

driver, however, was not in the least disturbed. He kept turn-

ing his head to left and right, but I could not see anything

through the darkness.

Suddenly, away on our left I saw a fain flickering blue

flame. The driver saw it at the same moment. He at once

checked the horses, and, jumping to the ground, disappeared

into the darkness. I did not know what to do, the less as

the howling of the wolves grew closer. But while I wondered,

the driver suddenly appeared again, and without a word took

his seat, and we resumed our journey. I think I must have

fallen asleep and kept dreaming of the incident, for it

seemed to be repeated endlessly, and now looking back, it is

like a sort of awful nightmare. Once the flame appeared so

near the road, that even in the darkness around us I could

watch the driver's motions. He went rapidly to where the

blue flame arose, it must have been very faint, for it did

not seem to illumine the place around it at all, and gather-

ing a few stones, formed them into some device.

Once there appeared a strange optical effect. When he

stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I

could see its ghostly flicker all the same. This startled me,

but as the effect was only momentary, I took it that my eyes

deceived me straining through the darkness. Then for a time

there were no blue flames, and we sped onwards through the

gloom, with the howling of the wolves around us, as though

they were following in a moving circle.

At last there came a time when the driver went further

afield than he had yet gone, and during his absence, the

horses began to tremble worse than ever and to snort and

scream with fright. I could not see any cause for it, for the

howling of the wolves had ceased altogether. But just then

the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind

the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its

light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and

lolling red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair.

They were a hundred times more terrible in the grim silence

which held them than even when they howled. For myself, I

felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only when a man feels

himself face to face with such horrors that he can under-

stand their true import.

All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moon-

light had had some peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped

about and reared, and looked helplessly round with eyes that

rolled in a way painful to see. But the living ring of terror

encompassed them on every side, and they had perforce to

remain within it. I called to the coachman to come, for it

seemed to me that our only chance was to try to break out

through the ring and to aid his approach, I shouted and beat

the side of the caleche, hoping by the noise to scare the

wolves from the side, so as to give him a chance of reaching

the trap. How he came there, I know not, but I heard his

voice raised in a tone of imperious command, and looking

towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway. As he swept

his long arms, as though brushing aside some impalpable

obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still. Just

then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so

that we were again in darkness.

When I could see again the driver was climbing into the

caleche, and the wolves disappeared. This was all so strange

and uncanny that a dreadful fear came upon me, and I was

afraid to speak or move. The time seemed interminable as we

swept on our way, now in almost complete darkness, for the

rolling clouds obscured the moon.

We kept on ascending, with occasional periods of quick

descent, but in the main always ascending. Suddenly, I became

conscious of the fact that the driver was in the act of pull-

ing up the horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle,

from whose tall black windows came no ray of light,and whose

broken battlements showed a jagged line against the sky.

CHAPTER 2

Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued

5 May.--I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had

been fully awake I must have noticed the approach of such a

remarkable place. In the gloom the courtyard looked of con-

siderable size, and as several dark ways led from it under

great round arches, it perhaps seemed bigger than it really

is. I have not yet been able to see it by daylight.

When the caleche stopped, the driver jumped down and

held out his hand to assist me to alight. Again I could not

but notice his prodigious strength. His hand actually seemed

like a steel vice that could have crushed mine if he had

chosen. Then he took my traps, and placed them on the ground

beside me as I stood close to a great door, old and studded

with large iron nails, and set in a projecting doorway of

massive stone. I could see even in th e dim light that the

stone was massively carved, but that the carving had been

much worn by time and weather. As I stood, the driver jump-

ed again into his seat and shook the reins. The horses start-

ed forward,and trap and all disappeared down one of the dark

openings.

I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what

to do. Of bell or knocker there was no sign. Through these

frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely

that my voice could penetrate. The time I waited seemed end-

less, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What

sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people?

What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked?

Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's

clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate

to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that.

Solicitor, for just before leaving London I got word that my

examination was successful, and I am now a full-blown solic-

itor! I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I

were awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me,

and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself

at home, with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as

I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of over-

work. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes

were not to be deceived. I was indeed awake and among the

Carpathians. All I could do now was to be patient, and to

wait the coming of morning.

Just as I had come to this conclusion I heard a heavy

step approaching behind the great door, and saw through the

chinks the gleam of a coming light. Then there was the

sound of rattling chains and the clanking of massive bolts

drawn back. A key was turned with the loud grating noise of

long disuse, and the great door swung back.

Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a

long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot,

without a single speck of colour about him anywhere. He

held in his hand an antique silver lamp, in which the flame

burned without a chimney or globe of any kind, throwing long

quivering shadows as it flickered in the draught of the open

door. The old man motioned me in with his right hand with a

courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a

strange intonation.

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own free

will!" He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood

like a statue,as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him

into stone. The instant, however, that I had stepped over the

threshold, he moved impulsively forward, and holding out his

hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an

effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed

cold as ice, more like the hand of a dead than a living man.

Again he said.

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave

something of the happiness you bring!" The strength of the

handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in

the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I

doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speak-

ing. So to make sure, I said interrogatively, "Count Drac-

ula?"

He bowed in a courtly was as he replied, "I am Dracula,

and I bid you welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house. Come in, the

night air is chill, and you must need to eat and rest."As he

was speaking, he put the lamp on a bracket on the wall, and

stepping out, took my luggage. He had carried it in before I

could forestall him. I protested, but he insisted.

"Nay, sir, you are my guest. It is late, and my people

are not available. Let me see to your comfort myself."He in-

sisted on carrying my traps along the passage, and then up a

great winding stair, and along another great passage, on

whose stone floor our steps rang heavily. At the end of this

he threw open a heavy door, and I rejoiced to see within a

well-lit room in which a table was spread for supper, and on

whose mighty hearth a great fire of logs, freshly replenished,

flamed and flared.

The Count halted, putting down my bags, closed the door,

and crossing the room, opened another door, which led into a

small octagonal room lit by a single lamp, and seemingly

without a window of any sort. Passing through this, he open-

ed another door, and motioned me to enter. It was a welcome

sight. For here was a great bedroom well lighted and warmed

with another log fire, also added to but lately, for the top

logs were fresh, which sent a hollow roar up the wide chim-

ney. The Count himself left my luggage inside and withdrew,

saying, before he closed the door.

"You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself

by making your toilet. I trust you will find all you wish.

When you are ready, come into the other room, where you will

find your supper prepared."

The light and warmth and the Count's courteous welcome

seemed to have dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having

then reached my normal state, I discovered that I was half

famished with hunger. So making a hasty toilet, I went into

the other room.

I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on

one side of the great fireplace, leaning against the stone-

work, made a graceful wave of his hand to the table, and

said,

"I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will

I trust, excuse me that I do not join you, but I have dined

already, and I do not sup."

I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had

entrusted to me. He opened it and read it gravely. Then,

with a charming smile, he handed it to me to read. One pass-

age of it, at least, gave me a thrill of pleasure.

"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which mal-

ady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travel-

ling on my part for some time to come. But I am happy to say

I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every

possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and

talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition.

He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my

service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will

during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all

matters."

The count himself came forward and took off the cover

of a dish, and I fell to at once on an excellent roast

chicken. This, with some cheese and a salad and a bottle of

old tokay, of which I had two glasses, was my supper. During

the time I was eating it the Count asked me many question

as to my journey, and I told him by degrees all I had

experienced.

By this time I had finished my supper,and by my host's

desire had drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke

a cigar which he offered me, at the same time excusing him-

self that he did not smoke. I had now an opportunity of

observing him, and found him of a very marked physiognomy.

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 point-

ed. The chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm

though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary

pallor.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they

lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed

rather white and fine. But seeing them now close to me, I

could not but notice that they were rather coarse, broad,

with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the

centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut

to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands

touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been

that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea

came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.

The Count, evidently noticing it, drew back. And with

a grim sort of smile, which showed more than he had yet

done his protruberant teeth, sat himself down again on his

own side of the fireplace. We were both silent for a while,

and as I looked towards the window I saw the first dim

streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness

over everything. But as I listened, I heard as if from down

below in the valley the howling of many wolves. The Count's

eyes gleamed, and he said.

"Listen to them, the children of the night. What music

they make!" Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face

strange to him, he added, "Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city

cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter." Then he rose

and said.

"But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and

tomorrow you shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be

away till the afternoon, so sleep well and dream well!"

With a courteous bow, he opened for me himself the door to

the octagonal room, and I entered my bedroom.

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt. I fear. I think

strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul.

God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

7 May.--It is again early morning, but I have rested

and enjoyed the last twenty-four hours. I slept till late

in the day, and awoke of my own accord. When I had dressed

myself I went into the room where we had supped, and found

a cold breakfast laid out, with coffee kept hot by the pot

being placed on the hearth. There was a card on the table,

on which was written--

"I have to be absent for a while. Do not wait for me.

D." I set to and enjoyed a hearty meal. When I had done,

I looked for a bell, so that I might let the servants know

I had finished, but I could not find one. There are cer-

tainly odd deficiencies in the house, considering the ex-

traordinary evidences of wealth which are round me. The

table service is of gold, and so beautifully wrought that

it must be of immense value. The curtains and upholstery

of the chairs and sofas and the hangings of my bed are of

the costliest and most beautiful fabrics, and must have

been of fabulous value when they were made, for they are

centuries old, though in excellent order. I saw something

like them in Hampton Court, but they were worn and frayed

and moth-eaten. But still in none of the rooms is there a

mirror. There is not even a toilet glass on my table, and

I had to get the little shaving glass from my bag before I

could either shave or brush my hair. I have not yet seen a

servant anywhere, or heard a sound near the castle except

the howling of wolves. Some time after I had finished my

meal, I do not know whether to call it breakfast of dinner,

for it was between five and six o'clock when I had it, I

looked about for something to read, for I did not like to

go about the castle until I had asked the Count's permiss-

ion. There was absolutely nothing in the room, book, news-

paper, or even writing materials, so I opened another door

in the room and found a sort of library. The door opposite

mine I tried, but found locked.

In the library I found, to my great delight, a vast

number of English books, whole shelves full of them, and

bound volumes of magazines and newspapers. A table in the

center was littered with English magazines and newspapers,

though none of them were of very recent date. The books

were of the most varied kind, history, geography, politics,

political economy, botany, geology, law, all relating to

England and English life and customs and manners. There

were even such books of reference as the London Directory,

the "Red" and "Blue" books, Whitaker's Almanac, the Army

and Navy Lists, and it somehow gladdened my heart to see

it, the Law List.

Whilst I was looking at the books, the door opened,

and the Count entered. He saluted me in a hearty way, and

hoped that I had had a good night's rest. Then he went on.

"I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure

there is much that will interest you. These companions,"

and he laid his hand on some of the books, "have been good

friends to me, and for some years past, ever since I had

the idea of going to London, have given me many, many hours

of pleasure. Through them I have come to know your great

England, and to know her is to love her. I long to go

through the crowded streets of your mighty London, to be

in the midst of the whirl and rush of humanity, to share

its life, its change, its death, and all that makes it what

it is. But alas! As yet I only know your tongue through

books. To you, my friend, I look that I know it to speak."

"But, Count," I said, "You know and speak English

thoroughly!" He bowed gravely.

"I thank you, my friend, for your all too-flattering

estimate, but yet I fear that I am but a little way on the

road I would travel. True, I know the grammar and the words,

but yet I know not how to speak them.

"Indeed," I said, "You speak excellently."

"Not so," he answered. "Well, I know that, did I move

and speak in your London, none there are who would not know

me for a stranger. That is not enough for me. Here I am nob-

le. I am a Boyar. The common people know me, and I am master.

But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one. Men know

him not, and to know not is to care not for. I am content

if I am like the rest, so that no man stops if he sees me,

or pauses in his speaking if he hears my words, `Ha, ha!

A stranger!' I have been so long master that I would be

master still, or at least that none other should be master

of me. You come to me not alone as agent of my friend Peter

Hawkins, of Exeter, to tell me all about my new estate in

London. You shall, I trust, rest here with me a while, so

that by our talking I may learn the English intonation. And

I would that you tell me when I make error, even of the

smallest, in my speaking. I am sorry that I had to be away

so long today, but you will, I know forgive one who has so

many important affairs in hand."

Of course I said all I could about being willing, and

asked if I might come into that room when I chose. He ans-

wered, "Yes, certainly," and added.

"You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except

where the doors are locked, where of course you will not

wish to go. There is reason that all things are as they are,

and did you see with my eyes and know with my knowledge,

you would perhaps better understand." I said I was sure of

this, and then he went on.

"We are in Transylvania, and Transylvania is not Eng-

land. Our ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you

many strange things. Nay, from what you have told me of

your experiences already, you know something of what

strange things there may be."

This led to much conversation, and as it was evident

that he wanted to talk, if only for talking's sake, I ask-

ed him many questions regarding things that had already

happened to me or come within my notice. Sometimes he

sheered off the subject, or turned the conversation by

pretending not to understand, but generally he answered

all I asked most frankly. Then as time went on, and I had

got somewhat bolder, I asked him of some of the strange

things of the preceding night, as for instance, why the

coachman went to the places where he had seen the blue

flames. He then explained to me that it was commonly

believed that on a certain night of the year, last night,

in fact, when all evil spirits are supposed to have un-

checked sway, a blue flame is seen over any place where

treasure has been concealed.

"That treasure has been hidden," he went on, "in the

region through which you came last night, there can be but

little doubt. For it was the ground fought over for centur-

ies by the Wallachian, the Saxon, and the Turk. Why, there

is hardly a foot of soil in all this region that has not

been enriched by the blood of men, patriots or invaders.

In the old days there were stirring times, when the Aust-

rian and the Hungarian came up in hordes, and the patriots

went out to meet them, men and women, the aged and the chil-

dren too, and waited their coming on the rocks above the

passes, that they might sweep destruction on them with

their artificial avalanches. When the invader was trium-

phant he found but little, for whatever there was had been

sheltered in the friendly soil."

"But how," said I, "can it have remained so long un-

discovered, when there is a sure index to it if men will

but take the trouble to look? "The Count smiled, and as his

lips ran back over his gums, the long, sharp, canine teeth

showed out strangely. He answered.

"Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool!

Those flames only appear on one night, and on that night no

man of this land will, if he can help it, stir without his

doors. And, dear sir, even if he did he would not know what

to do. Why, even the peasant that you tell me of who marked

the place of the flame would not know where to look in day-

light even for his own work. Even you would not, I dare be

sworn, be able to find these places again?"

"There you are right," I said. "I know no more than the

dead where even to look for them." Then we drifted into

other matters.

"Come," he said at last, "tell me of London and of the

house which you have procured for me." With an apology for

my remissness, I went into my own room to get the papers

from my bag. Whilst I was placing them in order I heard a

rattling of china and silver in the next room, and as I

passed through, noticed that the table had been cleared and

the lamp lit, for it was by this time deep into the dark.

The lamps were also lit in the study or library, and I

found the Count lying on the sofa, reading, of all things

in the world, and English Bradshaw's Guide. When I came in

he cleared the books and papers from the table, and with

him I went into plans and deeds and figures of all sorts.

He was interested in everything, and asked me a myriad

questions about the place and its surroundings. He clearly

had studied beforehand all he could get on the subject of

the neighborhood, for he evidently at the end knew very

much more than I did. When I remarked this, he answered.

"Well, but, my friend, is it not needful that I should?

When I go there I shall be all alone, and my friend Harker

Jonathan, nay, pardon me. I fall into my country's habit of

putting your patronymic first, my friend Jonathan Harker

will not be by my side to correct and aid me. He will be

in Exeter, miles away, probably working at papers of the

law with my other friend, Peter Hawkins. So!"

We went thoroughly into the business of the purchase

of the estate at Purfleet. When I had told him the facts

and got his signature to the necessary papers, and had

written a letter with them ready to post to Mr. Hawkins, he

began to ask me how I had come across so suitable a place.

I read to him the notes which I had made at the time, and

which I inscribe here.

"At Purfleet, on a by-road, I came across just such a

place as seemed to be required, and where was displayed a

dilapidated notice that the place was for sale. It was sur-

rounded by a high wall, of ancient structure, built of heavy

stones, and has not been repaired for a large number of

years. The closed gates are of heavy old oak and iron, all

eaten with rust.

"The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of

the old Quatre Face, as the house is four sided, agreeing

with the cardinal points of the compass. It contains in all

some twenty acres, quite surrounded by the solid stone wall

above mentioned. There are many trees on it, which make it

in places gloomy, and there is a deep, dark-looking pond

or small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as the water

is clear and flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house

is very large and of all periods back, I should say, to

mediaeval times, for one part is of stone immensely thick,

with only a few windows high up and heavily barred with

iron. It looks like part of a keep, and is close to an old

chapel or church. I could not enter it, as I had not the

key of the door leading to it from the house, but I have

taken with my Kodak views of it from various points. The

house had been added to, but in a very straggling way, and

I can only guess at the amount of ground it covers, which

must be very great. There are but few houses close at

hand, one being a very large house only recently added

to and formed into a private lunatic asylum. It is not, how-

ever, visible from the grounds."

When I had finished, he said, "I am glad that it is old

and big. I myself am of an old family, and to live in a new

house would kill me. A house cannot be made habitable in a

day, and after all, how few days go to make up a century. I

rejoice also that there is a chapel of old times. We Tran-

sylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may lie

amongst the common dead. I seek not gaiety nor mirth, not

the bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and sparkling

waters which please the young and gay. I am no longer

young, and my heart, through weary years of mourning over

the dead, is attuned to mirth. Moreover, the walls of my

castle are broken. The shadows are many, and the wind