DRACULA
Bram
Stoker
CHAPTER
XIX.
JONATHAN
HARKER'S JOURNAL.
1 October, 5 a.m.- I went with the party to the search with an
easy mind, for I think I never saw Mina so absolutely strong and well.
I am so glad that she consented to hold back and let us men do
the work. Somehow, it was a dread to me that she was in this fearful
business at all; but now that her work is done, and that it is due to
her energy and brains and foresight that the whole story is put
together in such a way that every point tells, she may well feel that
her part is finished, and that she can henceforth leave the rest to
us. We were, I think, all a little upset by the scene with Mr.
Renfield. When we came away from his room we were silent till we got
back to the study. Then Mr. Morris said to Dr. Seward:-
"Say, Jack, if that man wasn't attempting a bluff, he is
about the sanest lunatic I ever saw. I'm not sure, but I believe that
he had some serious purpose, and if he had, it was pretty rough on him
not to get a chance." Lord Godalming and I were silent, but Dr.
Van Helsing added:-
"Friend John, you know more of lunatics than I do, and I'm
glad of it, for I fear that if it had been to me to decide I would
before that last hysterical outburst have given him free. But we live
and learn, and in our present task we must take no chance, as my
friend Quincey would say. All is best as they are." Dr. Seward
seemed to answer them both in a dreamy kind of way:-
"I don't know but that I agree with you. If that man had
been an ordinary lunatic I would have taken my chance of trusting him;
but he seems so mixed up with the Count in an indexy kind of way that
I am afraid of doing anything wrong by helping his fads. I can't
forget how he prayed with almost equal fervour for a cat, and then
tried to tear my throat out with his teeth. Besides, he called the
Count 'lord and master,' and he may want to get out to help him in
some diabolical way. That horrid thing has the wolves and the rats and
his own kind to help him, so I suppose he isn't above trying to use a
respectable lunatic. He certainly did seem earnest, though. I only
hope we have done what is best. These things, in conjunction with the
wild work we have in hand, help to unnerve a man." The Professor
stepped over, and laying his hand on his shoulder, said in his grave,
kindly way:-
"Friend John, have no fear. We are trying to do our duty
in a very sad and terrible case; we can only do as we deem best. What
else have we to hope for, except the pity of the good God?" Lord
Godalming had slipped away for a few minutes, but he now returned. He
held up a little silver whistle as he remarked:-
"That old place may be full of rats, and if so, I've got
an antidote on call." Having passed the wall, we took our way to
the house, taking care to keep in the shadows of the trees on the lawn
when the moonlight shone out. When we got to the porch the Professor
opened his bag and took out a lot of things, which he laid on the
step, sorting them into four little groups, evidently one for each.
Then he spoke:-
"My friends, we are going into a terrible danger, and we
need arms of many kinds. Our enemy is not merely spiritual. Remember
that he has the strength of twenty men, and that, though our necks or
our windpipes are of the common kind- and therefore breakable or
crushable- his are not amenable to mere strength. A stronger man, or a
body of men more strong in all than him, can at certain times hold
him; but yet they cannot hurt him as we can be hurt by him. We must,
therefore, guard ourselves from his touch. Keep this near your
heart"-as he spoke he lifted a little silver crucifix and held it
out to me, I being nearest to him- "put these flowers round your
neck"-here he handed to me a wreath of withered garlic blossoms-
"for other enemies more mundane, this revolver and this knife;
and for aid in all, these small electric lamps, which you can fasten
to your breast; and for all, and above all at the last, this, which we
must not desecrate needless." This was a portion of Sacred Wafer,
which he put in an envelope and handed to me. Each of the others was
similarly equipped. "Now," he said, "friend John, where
are the skeleton keys? If so that we can open the door, we need not
break house by the window, as before at Miss Lucy's."
Dr. Seward tried one or two skeleton keys, his mechanical
dexterity as a surgeon standing him in good stead. Presently he got
one to suit; after a little play back and forward the bolt yielded,
and, with a rusty clang, shot back. We pressed on the door, the rusty
hinges creaked, and it slowly opened. It was startlingly like the
image conveyed to me in Dr. Seward's diary of the opening of Miss
Westenra's tomb; I fancy that the same idea seemed to strike the
others, for with one accord they shrank back. The Professor was the
first to move forward, and stepped into the open door.
"In manus tuas, Domine!" he said, crossing himself as
he passed over the threshold. We closed the door behind us, lest when
we should have lit our lamps we should possibly attract attention from
the road. The Professor carefully tried the lock, lest we might not be
able to open it from within should we be in a hurry making our exit.
Then we all lit our lamps and proceeded on our search.
The light from the tiny lamps fell in all sorts of odd forms,
as the rays crossed each other, or the opacity of our bodies threw
great shadows. I could not for my life get away from the feeling that
there was some one else amongst us. I suppose it was the recollection,
so powerfully brought home to me by the grim surroundings, of that
terrible experience in Transylvania. I think the feeling was common to
us all, for I noticed that the others kept looking over their
shoulders at every sound and every new shadow, just as I felt myself
doing.
The whole place was thick with dust. The floor was seemingly
inches deep, except where there were recent footsteps, in which on
holding down my lamp I could see marks of hobnails where the dust was
cracked. The walls were fluffy and heavy with dust, and in the corners
were masses of spider's webs, whereon the dust had gathered till they
looked like old tattered rags as the weight had torn them partly down.
On a table in the hall was a great bunch of keys, with a time-yellowed
label on each. They had been used several times, for on the table were
several similar rents in the blanket of dust, similar to that exposed
when the Professor lifted them. He turned to me and said:-
"You know this place, Jonathan. You have copied maps of
it, and you know it at least more than we do. Which is the way to the
chapel?" I had an idea of its direction, though on my former
visit I had not been able to get admission to it; so I led the way,
and after a few wrong turnings found myself opposite a low, arched
oaken door, ribbed with iron bands. "This is the spot," said
the Professor as he turned his lamp on a small map of the house,
copied from the file of my original correspondence regarding the
purchase. With a little trouble we found the key on the bunch and
opened the door. We were prepared for some unpleasantness, for as we
were opening the door a faint, malodorous air seemed to exhale through
the gaps, but none of us even expected such an odour as we
encountered. None of the others had met the Count at all at close
quarters, and when I had seen him he was either in the fasting stage
of his existence in his rooms or, when he was gloated with fresh
blood, in a ruined building open to the air; but here the place was
small and close, and the long disuse had made the air stagnant and
foul. There was an earthy smell, as of some dry miasma, which came
through the fouler air. But as to the odour itself, now shall I
describe it? It was not alone that it was composed of all the ills of
mortality and with the pungent, acrid smell of blood, but it seemed as
though corruption had become itself corrupt. Faugh! it sickens me to think of it. Every breath exhaled by
that monster seemed to have clung to the place and intensified its
loathsomeness.
Under ordinary circumstances such a stench would have brought
our enterprise to an end; but this was no ordinary case, and the high
and terrible purpose in which we were involved gave us a strength
which rose above merely physical considerations. After the involuntary
shrinking consequent on the first nauseous whiff, we one and all set
about our work as though that loathsome place were a garden of roses.
We made an accurate examination of the place, and Professor
saying as we began:-
"The first thing is to see how many of the boxes are left;
we must then examine every hole and corner and cranny and see if we
cannot get some clue as to what has become of the rest." A glance
was sufficient to show how many remained, for the great earth chests
were bulky, and there was no mistaking them.
There were only twenty-nine left out of the fifty! Once I got a
fright, for, seeing Lord Godalming suddenly turn and look out of the
vaulted door into the dark passage beyond, I looked too, and for an
instant my heart stood still. Somewhere, looking out from the shadow,
I seemed to see the high lights of the Count's evil face, the ridge of
the nose, the red eyes, the red lips, the awful pallor.
It was only for a moment, for, as Lord Godalming said, "I
thought I saw a face, but it was only the shadows," and resumed
his inquiry, I turned my lamp in the direction, and stepped into the
passage. There was no sign of any one; and as there were no corners,
no doors, no aperture of any kind, but only the solid walls of the
passage, there could be no hiding-place even for him. I took it that
fear had helped imagination, and said nothing.
A few minutes later I saw Morris step suddenly back from a
corner, which he was examining. We all followed his movements with our
eyes, for undoubtedly some nervousness was growing on us, and we saw a
whole mass of phosphorescence, which twinkled like stars. We all
instinctively drew back. The whole place was becoming alive with rats.
For a moment or two we stood appalled, all save Lord Godalming,
who was seemingly prepared for such an emergency. Rushing over to the
great iron-bound oaken door, which Dr. Seward had described from the
outside, and which I had seen myself, he turned the key in the lock,
drew the huge bolts, and swung the door open. Then, taking his little
silver whistle from his pocket, he blew a low, shrill call.
It was answered from behind Dr. Seward's house by the yelping
of dogs, and after about a minute three terriers came dashing round
the corner of the house. Unconsciously we had all moved towards the
door, and as we moved I noticed that the dust had been much disturbed:
the boxes which had been taken out had been brought this way. But even
in the minute that had elapsed the number of the rats had vastly
increased. They seemed to swarm over the place all at once, till the
lamplight, shining on their moving dark bodies and glittering, baleful
eyes, made the place look like a bank of earth set with fireflies. The
dogs dashed on, but at the threshold suddenly stopped and snarled, and
then, simultaneously lifting their noses, began to howl in most
lugubrious fashion. The rats were multiplying in thousands, and we
moved out.
Lord Godalming lifted one of the dogs, and carrying him in,
placed him on the floor. The instant his feet touched the ground he
seemed to recover his courage, and rushed at his natural enemies. They
fled before him so fast that before he had shaken the life out of a
score, the other dogs, who had by now been lifted in in the same
manner, had but small prey ere the whole mass had vanished.
With their going it seemed as if some evil presence had
departed, for the dogs frisked about and barked merrily as they made
sudden darts at their prostrate foes, and turned them over and over
and tossed them in the air with vicious shakes. We all seemed to find
our spirits rise. Whether it was the purifying of the deadly
atmosphere by the opening of the chapel door, or the relief which we
experienced by finding ourselves in the open I know not; but most
certainly the shadow of dread seemed to slip from us like a robe, and
the occasion of our coming lost something of its grim significance,
though we did not slacken a whit in our resolution. We closed the
outer door and barred and locked it, and bringing the dogs with us,
began our search of the house. We found nothing throughout except dust
in extraordinary proportions, and all untouched save for my own
footsteps when I had made my first visit. Never once did the dogs
exhibit any symptom of uneasiness, and even when we returned to the
chapel they frisked about as though they had been rabbit-hunting in a
summer wood.
The morning was quickening in the east when we emerged from the
front. Dr. Van Helsing had taken the key of the hall-door from the
bunch, and locked the door in orthodox fashion, putting the key into
his pocket when he had done.
"So far," he said, "our night has been eminently
successful. No harm has come to us such as I feared might be and yet
we have ascertained how many boxes are missing. More than all do I
rejoice that this, our first- and perhaps our most difficult and
dangerous- step has been accomplished without the bringing thereinto
our most sweet Madam Mina or troubling her walking or sleeping
thoughts with sights and sounds and smells of horror which she might
never forget. One lesson, too, we have learned, if it be allowable to
argue a particulari: that the brute beasts which are to the Count's
command are yet themselves not amenable to his spiritual power; for
look, these rats that would come to his call, just as from his castle
top he summon the wolves to your going and to that poor mother's cry,
though they come to him, they run pell-mell from the so little dogs of
my friend Arthur. We have other matters before us, other dangers,
other fears; and that monster- he has not used his power over the
brute world for the only or the last time to-night. So be it that he
has gone elsewhere. Good! It has given us opportunity to cry 'check'
in some ways in this chess game, which we play for the stake of human
souls. And now let us go home. The dawn is close at hand, and we have
reason to be content with our first night's work. It may be ordained
that we have many nights and days to follow, if full of peril; but we
must go on, and from no danger shall we shrink."
The house was silent when we got back, save for some poor
creature who was screaming away in one of the distant wards, and a
low, moaning sound from Renfield's room. The poor wretch was doubtless
torturing himself, after the manner of the insane, with needless
thoughts of pain.
I came tiptoe into our own room, and found Mina asleep,
breathing so softly that I had to put my ear down to hear it. She
looks paler than usual. I hope the meeting to-night has not upset her.
I am truly thankful that she is to be left out of our future work, and
even of our deliberations. It is too great a strain for a woman to
bear. I did not think so
at first, but I know better now. Therefore I am glad that it is
settled. There may be things which would frighten her to hear; and yet
to conceal them from her might be worse than to tell her if once she
suspected that there was any concealment.
Henceforth our work is to be a sealed book to her, till at
least such time as we can tell her that all is finished, and the earth
free from a monster of the nether world. I daresay it will be
difficult to begin to keep silence after such confidence as ours; but
I must be resolute, and to-morrow I shall keep dark over to-night's
doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that has happened. I
rest on the sofa, so as not to disturb her.
1 October, later.- I suppose it was natural that we should have
all overslept ourselves, for the day was a busy one, and the night had
no rest at all. Even Mina must have felt its exhaustion, for though I
slept till the sun was high, I was awake before her, and had to call
two or three times before she awoke. Indeed, she was so sound asleep
that for a few seconds she did not recognize me, but looked at me with
a sort of blank terror, as one looks who has been waked out of a bad
dream. She complained a little of being tired, and I let her rest till
later in the day. We now know of twenty one boxes having been removed,
and if it be that several were taken in any of these removals we may
be able to trace them all. Such will, of course, immensely simplify
our labour, and the sooner the matter is attended to the better. I
shall look up Thomas Snelling to-day.
Dr. Seward's Diary.
1 October.- it was towards noon when I was awakened by the
Professor walking into my room. He was more jolly and cheerful than
usual, and it is quite evident that last night's work has helped to
take some of the brooding weight off his mind. After going over the
adventure of the night he suddenly said:-
"Your patient interests me much. May it be that with you I
visit him this morning? Or if that you are too occupy, I can go alone
if it may be. It is a new experience to me to find a lunatic who talk
philosophy, and reason sound." I had some work to do which
pressed, so I told him that if he would go alone I would be glad, as
then I should not have to keep him waiting; so I called an attendant
and gave him the necessary instructions. Before the Professor left the
room I cautioned him against getting any false impression from my
patient. "But,"
he answered, "I want him to talk of himself and of his delusion
as to consuming live things. He said to Madam Mina, as I see in your
diary of yesterday, that he had once had such a belief. Why do you
smile, friend John?"
"Excuse me," I said, "but the answer is
here." I laid my hand on the type-written matter. "When our
sane and learned lunatic made that very statement of how he used to
consume life, his mouth was actually nauseous with the flies and
spiders which he had eaten just before Mrs. Harker entered the
room." Van Helsing smiled in turn. "Good!" he said.
"Your memory is true, friend John. I should have remembered. And
yet it is this very obliquity of thought and memory which makes mental
disease such a fascinating study. Perhaps I may gain more knowledge
out of the folly of this madman than I shall from the teaching of the
most wise. Who knows?" I went on with my work, and before long
was through that in hand. It seemed that the time had been very short
indeed, but there was Van Helsing back in the study. "Do I
interrupt?" he asked politely as he stood at the door.
"Not at all," I answered. "Come in. My work is
finished, and I am free. I can go with you now, if you like"
"It is needless; I have seen him!"
"Well?"
"I fear that he does not appraise me at much. Our
interview was short. When I entered his room he was sitting on a stool
in the centre, with his elbows on his knees, and his face was the
picture of sullen discontent. I spoke to him as cheerfully as I could,
and with such a measure of respect as I could assume. He made no reply
whatever. "Don't you know me?" I asked. His answer was not
reassuring: "I know you well enough; you are the old fool Van
Helsing. I wish you would take yourself and your idiotic brain
theories somewhere else. Damn all thick-headed Dutchmen!" Not a
word more would he say, but sat in his implacable sullenness as
indifferent to the as though I had not been ill the room at all. Thus
departed for this time my chance of much learning from this so clever
lunatic; so I shall go, if I may, and cheer myself with a few happy
words with that sweet soul Madam Mina. Friend John, it does rejoice me
unspeakable that she is no more to be pained, no more to be worried,
with our terrible things. Though
we shall much miss her help, it is better so."
"I agree with you with all my heart," I answered
earnestly, for I did not want him to weaken in this matter, "Mrs.
Harker is better out of it. Things are quite bad enough for us, all
men of the world, and who have been in many tight places in our time;
but it is no place for a woman, and if she had remained in touch with
the affair, it would in time infallibly have wrecked her."
So Van Helsing has gone to confer with Mrs. Harker and Harker;
Quincey and Art are all out following up the clues as to the
earth-boxes. I shall finish my round of work, and we shall meet
to-night.
Mina Harker's Journal.
1 October.- it is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am
to-day; after Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to see him
manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all.
This morning I slept late after the fatigues of yesterday, and
though Jonathan was late too, he was the earlier. He spoke to me
before he went out, never more sweetly or tenderly, but he never
mentioned a word of what had happened in the visit to the Count's
house. And yet he must have known how terribly anxious I was. Poor
dear fellow! I suppose it must have distressed him even more than it
did me. They all agreed that it was best that I should not be drawn
further into this awful work, and I acquiesced. But to think that he
keeps anything from me! And now I am crying like a silly fool, when I
know it comes from my husband's great love and from the good, good
wishes of those other strong men...
That has done me good. Well, some day Jonathan will tell me
all, and lest it should ever be that he should think for a moment that
I kept anything from him, I still keep my journal as usual. Then if he
has feared of my trust I shall show it to him, with every thought of
my heart put down for his dear eyes to read. I feel strangely sad and
low-spirited to-day. I suppose it is the reaction from the terrible
excitement.
Last night I went to bed when the men had gone, simply because
they told me to. I didn't feel sleepy, and I did feel full of
devouring anxiety. I kept thinking over everything that has been ever
since Jonathan came to see me in London, and it all seems like a
horrible tragedy, with fate pressing on relentlessly to some destined
end. Everything that one does seems, no matter how right it may be, to
bring on the very thing which is most to be deplored. If I hadn't gone
to Whitby, perhaps poor dear Lucy would be with us now. She hadn't
taken to visiting the churchyard till I came, and if she hadn't come
there in the day-time with me she wouldn't have walked there in her
sleep; and if she hadn't gone there at night and asleep, that monster
couldn't have destroyed her as he did. Oh, why did I ever go to Whitby?
There now, crying again! I wonder what has come over me today. I must
hide it from Jonathan, for if he knew that I had been crying twice in
one morning- I, who never cried on my own account, and whom he has
never caused to shed a tear- the dear fellow would fret his heart out.
I shall put a bold face on, and if I do feel weepy, he shall never see
it. I suppose it is one of the lessons that we poor women have to
learn...
I can't quite remember how I fell asleep last night. I remember
hearing the sudden barking of the dogs and a lot of queer sounds, like
praying on a very tumultuous scale, from Mr. Renfield's room, which is
somewhere under this. And then there was silence over everything,
silence so profound that it startled me, and I got up and looked out
of the window. All was dark and silent, the black shadows thrown by
the moonlight seeming full of a silent mystery of their own. Not a
thing seemed to be stirring, but all to be grim and fixed as death or
fate; so that a thin streak of white mist, that crept with almost
imperceptible slowness across the grass towards the house, seemed to
have a sentience and a vitality of its own. I think that the
digression of my thoughts must have done me good, for when I got back
to bed I found a lethargy creeping over me. I lay a while, but could
not quite sleep, so I got out and looked out of the window again. The
mist was spreading, and was now close up to the house, so that I could
see it lying thick against the wall, as though it were stealing up to
the windows. The poor man was more loud than ever, and though I could
not distinguish a word he said, I could in some way recognise in his
tones some passionate entreaty on his part. Then there was the sound
of a struggle, and I knew that the attendants were dealing with him. I
was so frightened that I crept into bed, and pulled the clothes over
my head, putting my fingers in my ears. I was not then a bit sleepy,
at least so I thought; but I must have fallen asleep, for, except
dreams, I do not remember anything until the morning, when Jonathan
woke me. I think that it took me an effort and a little time to
realise where I was, and that it was Jonathan who was bending over me.
My dream was very peculiar, and was almost typical of the way that
waking thoughts become merged in, or continued in, dreams.
I thought that I was asleep, and waiting for Jonathan to come
back. I was very anxious about him, and I was powerless to act; my
feet, and my hands, and my brain were weighted, so that nothing could
proceed at the usual pace. And so I slept uneasily and thought. Then
it began to dawn upon me that the air was heavy, and dank, and cold. I
put back the clothes from my face, and found, to my surprise, that all
was dim around. The gas-light which I had left lit for Jonathan, but
turned down, came only like a tiny red spark through the fog, which
had evidently grown thicker and poured into the room. There it
occurred to me that I had shut the window before I had come to bed. I
would have got out to make certain on the point, but some leaden
lethargy seemed to chain my limbs and even my will.
I lay still and endured; that was all. I closed my eyes, but
could still see through my eyelids. (it is wonderful what tricks our
dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.) The mist grew
thicker and thicker, and I could see now how it came in, for I could
see it like smoke- or with the white energy of boiling water-pouring
in, not through the window, but through the joinings of the door. It
got thicker and thicker, till it seemed as if it became concentrated
into a sort of pillar of cloud in the room, through the top of which I
could see the light of the gas shining like a red eye. Things began to
whirl through my brain just as the cloudy column was now whirling in
the room, and through it all came the scriptural words "a pillar
of cloud by day and of fire by night." Was it indeed some such
spiritual guidance that was coming to me in my sleep? But the pillar
was composed of both the day and the night-guiding, for the fire was
in the red eye, which at the thought got a new fascination for me;
till, as I looked, the fire divided, and seemed to shine on me through
the fog like two red eyes, such as Lucy told me of in her momentary
mental wandering when, on the cliff, the dying sunlight struck the
windows of St. Mary's Church. Suddenly
the horror burst upon me that it was thus that Jonathan had seen those
awful women growing into reality throught the whirling mist in the
moonlight, and in my dream I must have fainted, for all became black
darkness. The last conscious effort which imagination made was to show
me a livid white face bending over me out of the mist. I must be
careful of such dreams, for they would unseat one's reason if there
were too much of them. I would get Dr. Van Helsing or Dr. Seward to
prescribe something for me which would make me sleep, only that I fear
to alarm them. Such a dream at the present time would become woven
into their fears for me. To-night I shall strive hard to sleep
naturally. If I do not, I shall to-morrow night get them to give me a
dose of chloral; that cannot hurt me for once, and it will give me a
good night's sleep. Last night tired me more than if I had not slept
at all.
2 October 10 p.m.- Last night I slept, but did not dream, I
must have slept soundly, for I was not waked by Jonathan coming to
bed; but the sleep has not refreshed me, for to-day I feel terribly
weak and spiritless. I spent all yesterday trying to read, or lying
down dozing. In the afternoon Mr. Renfield asked if he might see me.
Poor man, he was very gentle, and when I came away he kissed my hand
and bade God bless me. Some way it affected me much; I am crying when
I think of him. This is a new weakness, of which I must be careful.
Jonathan would be miserable if he knew I had been crying. He
and the others were out until dinner-time, and they all came in tired.
I did what I could to brighten them up, and I suppose that the effort
did me good, for I forgot how tired I was. After dinner they sent me
to bed, and all went off to smoke together, as they said, but I knew
that they wanted to tell each other of what had occurred to each
during the day; I could see from Jonathan's manner that he had
something important to communicate. I was not so sleepy as I should
have been; so before they went I asked Dr. Seward to give me a little
opiate of some kind, as I had not slept well the night before. He very
kindly made me up a sleeping draught, which he gave to me, telling me
that it would do me no harm, as it was very mild... I have taken it,
and am waiting for sleep, which still keeps aloof. I hope I have not
done wrong, for as sleep begins to flirt with me, a new fear comes:
that I may have been foolish in thus depriving myself of the power of
waking. I might want it. Here comes sleep. Goodnight.
