DRACULA
Bram
Stoker
1897
CHAPTER
I.
JONATHAN
HARKER'S JOURNAL.
(Kept
in shorthand.)
3 May. Bistriz.- 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
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 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 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.
How ever, 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 call "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 innyard 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 and 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 failing
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 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 now see 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 tomorrow of 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 run-away 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 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 nearer, 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 turning his head to left and right, but I could not see
anything through the darkness.
Suddenly, away on our left, I saw a faint 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 gathering 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 moonlight
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 that 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 had 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 pulling 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
moonlit sky.
