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 considerable 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 jumped
again into his seat and shook
the reins. The horses started
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 endless, 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 solicitor! 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 overwork.
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 speaking. So to make sure,
I said interrogatively, "Count
Dracula?"
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 insisted
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 opened 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
chimney. 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 stonework,
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 passage of
it, at least, gave me a thrill
of pleasure.
"I must regret
that an attack of gout, from
which malady I
am a constant sufferer, forbids
absolutely any travelling 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 himself 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 pointed.
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 certainly odd deficiencies
in the house, considering the
extraordinary 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 permission.
There was absolutely nothing
in the room, book, newspaper,
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 noble. 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 answered, "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 England.
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 asked 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 unchecked 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 centuries 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 Austrian and
the Hungarian came up in hordes,
and the patriots went out to
meet them, men and women, the
aged and the children 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 triumphant
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 undiscovered,
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 daylight 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 surrounded 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, however,
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 Transylvanian 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 breathes cold through the
broken battlements and casements.
I love the shade and the shadow,
and would be alone with my thoughts
when I may." Somehow his words
and his look did not seem to
accord, or else it was that his
cast of face made his smile look
malignant and saturnine.
Presently, with an excuse,
he left me, asking me to pull
my papers together. He was some
little time away, and I began
to look at some of the books
around me. One was an atlas,
which I found opened naturally
to England, as if that map had
been much used. On looking at
it I found in certain places
little rings marked, and on examining
these I noticed that one was
near London on the east side,
manifestly where his new estate
was situated. The other two were
Exeter, and Whitby on the Yorkshire
coast.
It was the
better part of an hour when
the Count returned. "Aha!" he
said. "Still at your books? Good!
But you must not work always.
Come! I am informed that your
supper is ready." He took my
arm, and we went into the next
room, where I found an excellent
supper ready on the table. The
Count again excused himself,
as he had dined out on his being
away from home. But he sat as
on the previous night, and chatted
whilst I ate. After supper I
smoked, as on the last evening,
and the Count stayed with me,
chatting and asking questions
on every conceivable subject,
hour after hour. I felt that
it was getting very late indeed,
but I did not say anything, for
I felt under obligation to meet
my host's wishes in every way.
I was not sleepy, as the long
sleep yesterday had fortified
me, but I could not help experiencing
that chill which comes over one
at the coming of the dawn, which
is like, in its way, the turn
of the tide. They say that people
who are near death die generally
at the change to dawn or at the
turn of the tide. Anyone who
has when tired, and tied as it
were to his post, experienced
this change in the atmosphere
can well believe it. All at once
we heard the crow of the cock
coming up with preternatural
shrillness through the clear
morning air.
Count Dracula,
jumping to his feet, said, "Why there is the
morning again! How remiss I am
to let you stay up so long. You
must make your conversation regarding
my dear new country of England
less interesting, so that I may
not forget how time flies by
us," and with a courtly bow,
he quickly left me.
I went into my room and drew
the curtains, but there was little
to notice. My window opened into
the courtyard, all I could see
was the warm grey of quickening
sky. So I pulled the curtains
again, and have written of this
day.
8 May.--I began to fear as
I wrote in this book that I was
getting too diffuse. But now
I am glad that I went into detail
from the first, for there is
something so strange about this
place and all in it that I cannot
but feel uneasy. I wish I were
safe out of it, or that I had
never come. It may be that this
strange night existence is telling
on me, but would that that were
all! If there were any one to
talk to I could bear it, but
there is no one. I have only
the Count to speak with, and
he-- I fear I am myself the only
living soul within the place.
Let me be prosaiac so far as
facts can be. It will help me
to bear up, and imagination must
not run riot with me. If it does
I am lost. Let me say at once
how I stand, or seem to.
I only slept
a few hours when I went to
bed, and feeling that
I could not sleep any more, got
up. I had hung my shaving glass
by the window, and was just beginning
to shave. Suddenly I felt a hand
on my shoulder, and heard the
Count's voice saying to me, "Good
morning." I started, for it amazed
me that I had not seen him, since
the reflection of the glass covered
the whole room behind me. In
starting I had cut myself slightly,
but did not notice it at the
moment. Having answered the Count's
salutation, I turned to the glass
again to see how I had been mistaken.
This time there could be no error,
for the man was close to me,
and I could see him over my shoulder.
But there was no reflection of
him in the mirror! The whole
room behind me was displayed,
but there was no sign of a man
in it, except myself.
This was startling, and coming
on the top of so many strange
things, was beginning to increase
that vague feeling of uneasiness
which I always have when the
Count is near. But at the instant
I saw the the cut had bled a
little, and the blood was trickling
over my chin. I laid down the
razor, turning as I did so half
round to look for some sticking
plaster. When the Count saw my
face, his eyes blazed with a
sort of demoniac fury, and he
suddenly made a grab at my throat.
I drew away and his hand touched
the string of beads which held
the crucifix. It made an instant
change in him, for the fury passed
so quickly that I could hardly
believe that it was ever there.
"Take care," he said, "take
care how you cut yourself. It
is more dangerous that you think
in this country." Then seizing
the shaving glass, he went on, "And
this is the wretched thing that
has done the mischief. It is
a foul bauble of man's vanity.
Away with it!" And opening the
window with one wrench of his
terrible hand, he flung out the
glass, which was shattered into
a thousand pieces on the stones
of the courtyard far below. Then
he withdrew without a word. It
is very annoying, for I do not
see how I am to shave, unless
in my watch-case or the bottom
of the shaving pot, which is
fortunately of metal.
When I went into the dining
room, breakfast was prepared,
but I could not find the Count
anywhere. So I breakfasted alone.
It is strange that as yet I have
not seen the Count eat or drink.
He must be a very peculiar man!
After breakfast I did a little
exploring in the castle. I went
out on the stairs, and found
a room looking towards the South.
The view was magnificent, and
from where I stood there was
every opportunity of seeing it.
The castle is on the very edge
of a terrific precipice. A stone
falling from the window would
fall a thousand feet without
touching anything! As far as
the eye can reach is a sea of
green tree tops, with occasionally
a deep rift where there is a
chasm. Here and there are silver
threads where the rivers wind
in deep gorges through the forests.
But I am not in heart to describe
beauty, for when I had seen the
view I explored further. Doors,
doors, doors everywere, and all
locked and bolted. In no place
save from the windows in the
castle walls is there an available
exit. The castle is a veritable
prison, and I am a prisoner! |