Dracula

and looking towards the sound, saw him stand hi the roadway.

As he swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some im-

palpable 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 hi 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

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 13

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

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

ing clouds obscured the moon. We kept on ascending, with oc-

casional 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.

CHAPTER II

JONATHAN BARKER’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 remark-

able 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 out 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 the 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, fc~ 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 ad-

venture 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 Lon-

don 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 night-

mare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and

14

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 15

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 the 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. oot, without a single

speck of colour about him anywhere. He ’held in his hand an

antique silver lamp, in which the flame burned without 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 vith a courtly gesture, saying in excel-

lent English, but with a. strange intonation:

«Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own 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 as cold as ice more like

the hand of a dead than a living man. Again he said:

«Welcome to my house. Come 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 way 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 wind-

16 Dracula

ing 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 with-

out a window of any sort. Passing through this, he opened an-

other 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 en-

trusted 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 1

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 confi-

dence. 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

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 17

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 questions 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 de-

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

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-jnDJUs^Ux^'^aj.^ecr’and ratheTTriiel-looking, with

peculiarly sharp ~^bffiL&&pEKese protnifer"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 extraor-

dinary 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 pahn. 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 o\ er me, which, do what I would, I could not con-

ceal. The Count, evidently noticing it, drew back; and with a

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

protuberant 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 fr^m 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:

i8 Dracula

«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 to-

morrow you shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be away

till the afternoon; so sleep well and dream well!» With a cour-

teous 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!

f

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

joyed 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

heartK. 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 beauti-

fully 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 there 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 or 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

it locked.

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

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 19

English books, whole shelves full of them, and bound volumes

of magazines and newspapers. A table in the centre 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 cus-

toms and manners. There were even such books of reference as

the London Directory, the «Red» and «Blue» books, Whit-

aker’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 tr^p

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 thor-

oughly!» 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 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 see me, or pause in his speaking

if he hear 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

2O Dracula

estate in London. You shall, I trust, rest here with me awhile, 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 to-day;

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 ex-

periences 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 ques-

tions 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 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

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 21

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 undis-

covered, 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 mat-

ters.

«Come, ' he said at last, «tell me of London and 01 the house

which you have procured for me.» With an apology for my re-

missness, 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, no-

ticed 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, read-

ing, of all things in the world, an 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 neigh-

bourhood, 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

22 Dracula

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 is 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 car-

dinal 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

t> y 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 im-

mensely 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 has 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 not 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

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 23

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, asidng me to put all 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 at 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 York-

shire 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 in-

deed, 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 ex-

periencing 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

the dawn or at the turn of the tide; any one 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 a 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 regard-

ing 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 own 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.

24 Dracula

8 May. I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was get-

ting too diffuse; but now I am glad that I went into detail from

s 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 prosaic so far as

facts can be; it wiirhelp 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 that 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 lacCj, Jiis eyes blazed_with a sort of demoniac

fury, ancThe suddenly made a grab at myj^roat.,! drewaway,

and his hand touched the.string of beads which held the crucifix.

It made an instant change ir> Mm, 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 than 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 heavy 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.

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 25

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 bot-

tom 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 terrible 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 everywhere, 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!