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DRACULA

 

CHAPTER I

 

JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL

 

(_Kept in shorthand._)

 

 

_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 wonderful 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

national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the

Carpathians. I found my smattering of German very useful here; indeed, 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 Ordnance 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 distinct 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 carafe, 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 to 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 being 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 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 anxiously expecting

you. Sleep well to-night. At three to-morrow 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 seemed somewhat reticent, and

pretended that he could not understand my German. This could not be

true, because up to then he had understood it perfectly; at least, he

answered my questions exactly as if he did. He and his wife, the old

lady who had received me, looked 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 starting that I had no time to ask

any one 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

very 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 before starting. It was all very

ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, there was business

to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it. I therefore

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 crucifix from her neck offered it to me. I

did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have been

taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it

seemed so ungracious to refuse 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 grey 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 the 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 with 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--which they call by a name meaning

"word-bearer"--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 of which mean the same

thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is

either were-wolf 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 every one

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 crossing

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 box-seat--"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 bewildering 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 different 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 foreign 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 Carpathians 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 himself 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

emphasised 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 kneeling 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 peasant's cart--with its

long, snake-like vertebra, calculated to suit the inequalities of the

road. On this were sure to be seated quite a group of home-coming

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

evidently 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 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 something 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 separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got

into the thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the conveyance

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 said

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 to-morrow 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 crossing

of themselves, a caleche, with four horses, drove up behind 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 to-night, 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 came 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, agonised 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 before 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 of the Pass, he suddenly turned down a