CHAPTER I
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
(_Kept in shorthand._)
_3 May. Bistritz._--Left Munich at 8:35 P. M., on 1st May, arriving atVienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was anhour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which Igot of it from the train and the little I could walk through thestreets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrivedlate and would start as near the correct time as possible. Theimpression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering theEast; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which ishere of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkishrule.
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, orrather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which wasvery good but thirsty. (_Mem._, get recipe for Mina.) I asked thewaiter, and he said it was called ”paprika hendl,” and that, as it was anational dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along theCarpathians. I found my smattering of German very useful here; indeed, Idon'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 theBritish Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the libraryregarding Transylvania; it had struck me that some foreknowledge of thecountry could hardly fail to have some importance in dealing with anobleman of that country. I find that the district he named is in theextreme east of the country, just on the borders of three states,Transylvania, Moldavia and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathianmountains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe. I wasnot able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of theCastle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to comparewith our own Ordnance Survey maps; but I found that Bistritz, the posttown named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall enterhere some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I talk over mytravels with Mina.
In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct nationalities:Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the Wallachs, who are thedescendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the West, and Szekelys in theEast and North. I am going among the latter, who claim to be descendedfrom Attila and the Huns. This may be so, for when the Magyars conqueredthe country in the eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it. Iread that every known superstition in the world is gathered into thehorseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort ofimaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting. (_Mem._, Imust ask the Count all about them.)
I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I hadall sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under mywindow, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have beenthe paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and wasstill thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was wakened by the continuousknocking 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 flourwhich they said was ”mamaliga,” and egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat, avery excellent dish, which they call ”impletata.” (_Mem._, get recipefor this also.) I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a littlebefore eight, or rather it ought to have done so, for after rushing tothe station at 7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hourbefore we began to move. It seems to me that the further east you go themore unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China?
All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full ofbeauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on thetop of steep hills such as we see in old missals; sometimes we ran byrivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each sideof them to be subject to great floods. It takes a lot of water, andrunning strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear. At everystation there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sortsof attire. Some of them were just like the peasants at home or those Isaw coming through France and Germany, with short jackets and round hatsand home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque. The womenlooked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsyabout 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 somethingfluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course therewere petticoats under them. The strangest figures we saw were theSlovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boyhats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormousheavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brassnails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, andhad long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are verypicturesque, but do not look prepossessing. On the stage they would beset down at once as some old Oriental band of brigands. They are,however, I am told, very harmless and rather wanting in naturalself-assertion.
It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is avery interesting old place. Being practically on the frontier--for theBorgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina--it has had a very stormyexistence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago a seriesof great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five separateoccasions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century it underwenta siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of warproper being assisted by famine and disease.
Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which Ifound, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for ofcourse I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country. I wasevidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced acheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress--whiteundergarment with long double apron, front, and back, of coloured stufffitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came close she bowed andsaid, ”The Herr Englishman?” ”Yes,” I said, ”Jonathan Harker.” Shesmiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white shirt-sleeves,who had followed her to the door. He went, but immediately returned witha letter:--
”My Friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well to-night. At three to-morrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.
”Your friend,
”DRACULA.”
_4 May._--I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count,directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but onmaking inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, andpretended that he could not understand my German. This could not betrue, because up to then he had understood it perfectly; at least, heanswered my questions exactly as if he did. He and his wife, the oldlady who had received me, looked at each other in a frightened sort ofway. He mumbled out that the money had been sent in a letter, and thatwas all he knew. When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and couldtell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves,and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speakfurther. It was so near the time of starting that I had no time to askany one else, for it was all very mysterious and not by any meanscomforting.
Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in avery hysterical way:
”Must you go? Oh! young Herr, must you go?” She was in such an excitedstate that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she knew, andmixed it all up with some other language which I did not know at all. Iwas just able to follow her by asking many questions. When I told herthat 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?” Onmy 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, whenthe clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will havefull 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, butwithout effect. Finally she went down on her knees and implored me notto go; at least to wait a day or two before starting. It was all veryridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, there was businessto be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it. I thereforetried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thankedher, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go. She then rose anddried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered it to me. Idid not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have beentaught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet itseemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such astate of mind. She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put therosary round my neck, and said, ”For your mother's sake,” and went outof the room. I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waitingfor the coach, which is, of course, late; and the crucifix is stillround my neck. Whether it is the old lady's fear, or the many ghostlytraditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, but Iam not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual. If this book shouldever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my good-bye. Here comes thecoach!
* * * * *
_5 May. The Castle._--The grey of the morning has passed, and the sun ishigh over the distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether with trees orhills I know not, for it is so far off that big things and little aremixed. 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 putdown, and, lest who reads them may fancy that I dined too well before Ileft Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly. I dined on what theycalled ”robber steak”--bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with redpepper, and strung on sticks and roasted over the fire, in the simplestyle of the London cat's meat! The wine was Golden Mediasch, whichproduces a queer sting on the tongue, which is, however, notdisagreeable. 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 himtalking with the landlady. They were evidently talking of me, for everynow and then they looked at me, and some of the people who were sittingon the bench outside the door--which they call by a name meaning”word-bearer”--came and listened, and then looked at me, most of thempityingly. I could hear a lot of words often repeated, queer words, forthere were many nationalities in the crowd; so I quietly got my polyglotdictionary from my bag and looked them out. I must say they were notcheering to me, for amongst them were ”Ordog”--Satan, ”pokol”--hell,”stregoica”--witch, ”vrolok” and ”vlkoslak”--both of which mean the samething, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that iseither were-wolf or vampire. (_Mem._, I must ask the Count about thesesuperstitions)
When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had by this timeswelled to a considerable size, all made the sign of the cross andpointed two fingers towards me. With some difficulty I got afellow-passenger to tell me what they meant; he would not answer atfirst, but on learning that I was English, he explained that it was acharm 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 oneseemed so kind-hearted, and so sorrowful, and so sympathetic that Icould not but be touched. I shall never forget the last glimpse which Ihad of the inn-yard and its crowd of picturesque figures, all crossingthemselves, as they stood round the wide archway, with its background ofrich foliage of oleander and orange trees in green tubs clustered in thecentre of the yard. Then our driver, whose wide linen drawers coveredthe whole front of the box-seat--”gotza” they call them--cracked his bigwhip over his four small horses, which ran abreast, and we set off onour journey.
I soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly fears in the beauty of thescene as we drove along, although had I known the language, or ratherlanguages, which my fellow-passengers were speaking, I might not havebeen able to throw them off so easily. Before us lay a green slopingland full of forests and woods, with here and there steep hills, crownedwith clumps of trees or with farmhouses, the blank gable end to theroad. There was everywhere a bewildering mass of fruit blossom--apple,plum, pear, cherry; and as we drove by I could see the green grass underthe trees spangled with the fallen petals. In and out amongst thesegreen 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 thestraggling ends of pine woods, which here and there ran down thehillsides like tongues of flame. The road was rugged, but still weseemed to fly over it with a feverish haste. I could not understand thenwhat the haste meant, but the driver was evidently bent on losing notime in reaching Borgo Prund. I was told that this road is in summertimeexcellent, but that it had not yet been put in order after the wintersnows. In this respect it is different from the general run of roads inthe Carpathians, for it is an old tradition that they are not to be keptin too good order. Of old the Hospadars would not repair them, lest theTurk 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 slopesof forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians themselves. Rightand left of us they towered, with the afternoon sun falling full uponthem and bringing out all the glorious colours of this beautiful range,deep blue and purple in the shadows of the peaks, green and brown wheregrass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged rock andpointed crags, till these were themselves lost in the distance, wherethe snowy peaks rose grandly. Here and there seemed mighty rifts in themountains, through which, as the sun began to sink, we saw now and againthe white gleam of falling water. One of my companions touched my arm aswe swept round the base of a hill and opened up the lofty, snow-coveredpeak of a mountain, which seemed, as we wound on our serpentine way, tobe 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 behindus, the shadows of the evening began to creep round us. This wasemphasised by the fact that the snowy mountain-top still held thesunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool pink. Here and therewe passed Cszeks and Slovaks, all in picturesque attire, but I noticedthat goitre was painfully prevalent. By the roadside were many crosses,and as we swept by, my companions all crossed themselves. Here and therewas a peasant man or woman kneeling before a shrine, who did not eventurn round as we approached, but seemed in the self-surrender ofdevotion to have neither eyes nor ears for the outer world. There weremany things new to me: for instance, hay-ricks in the trees, and hereand there very beautiful masses of weeping birch, their white stemsshining like silver through the delicate green of the leaves. Now andagain we passed a leiter-wagon--the ordinary peasant's cart--with itslong, snake-like vertebra, calculated to suit the inequalities of theroad. On this were sure to be seated quite a group of home-comingpeasants, the Cszeks with their white, and the Slovaks with theircoloured, sheepskins, the latter carrying lance-fashion their longstaves, 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 thegloom of the trees, oak, beech, and pine, though in the valleys whichran deep between the spurs of the hills, as we ascended through thePass, the dark firs stood out here and there against the background oflate-lying snow. Sometimes, as the road was cut through the pine woodsthat seemed in the darkness to be closing down upon us, great masses ofgreyness, which here and there bestrewed the trees, produced apeculiarly weird and solemn effect, which carried on the thoughts andgrim fancies engendered earlier in the evening, when the falling sunsetthrew into strange relief the ghost-like clouds which amongst theCarpathians seem to wind ceaselessly through the valleys. Sometimes thehills were so steep that, despite our driver's haste, the horses couldonly go slowly. I wished to get down and walk up them, as we do at home,but the driver would not hear of it. ”No, no,” he said; ”you must notwalk here; the dogs are too fierce”; and then he added, with what heevidently meant for grim pleasantry--for he looked round to catch theapproving smile of the rest--”and you may have enough of such mattersbefore you go to sleep.” The only stop he would make was a moment'spause to light his lamps.
When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement amongst thepassengers, and they kept speaking to him, one after the other, asthough urging him to further speed. He lashed the horses unmercifullywith his long whip, and with wild cries of encouragement urged them onto further exertions. Then through the darkness I could see a sort ofpatch of grey light ahead of us, as though there were a cleft in thehills. The excitement of the passengers grew greater; the crazy coachrocked on its great leather springs, and swayed like a boat tossed on astormy sea. I had to hold on. The road grew more level, and we appearedto fly along. Then the mountains seemed to come nearer to us on eachside and to frown down upon us; we were entering on the Borgo Pass. Oneby one several of the passengers offered me gifts, which they pressedupon me with an earnestness which would take no denial; these werecertainly of an odd and varied kind, but each was given in simple goodfaith, with a kindly word, and a blessing, and that strange mixture offear-meaning movements which I had seen outside the hotel atBistritz--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 thepassengers, craning over the edge of the coach, peered eagerly into thedarkness. It was evident that something very exciting was eitherhappening or expected, but though I asked each passenger, no one wouldgive me the slightest explanation. This state of excitement kept on forsome little time; and at last we saw before us the Pass opening out onthe eastern side. There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in theair the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though themountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had gotinto the thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the conveyancewhich was to take me to the Count. Each moment I expected to see theglare of lamps through the blackness; but all was dark. The only lightwas the flickering rays of our own lamps, in which the steam from ourhard-driven horses rose in a white cloud. We could see now the sandyroad 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 mockmy own disappointment. I was already thinking what I had best do, whenthe driver, looking at his watch, said to the others something which Icould hardly hear, it was spoken so quietly and in so low a tone; Ithought it was ”An hour less than the time.” Then turning to me, he saidin German worse than my own:--
”There is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected after all. He willnow come on to Bukovina, and return to-morrow or the next day; betterthe next day.” Whilst he was speaking the horses began to neigh andsnort and plunge wildly, so that the driver had to hold them up. Then,amongst a chorus of screams from the peasants and a universal crossingof themselves, a caleche, with four horses, drove up behind us, overtookus, and drew up beside the coach. I could see from the flash of ourlamps, as the rays fell on them, that the horses were coal-black andsplendid animals. They were driven by a tall man, with a long brownbeard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us. Icould only see the gleam of a pair of very bright eyes, which seemed redin 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 cannotdeceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift.” As hespoke he smiled, and the lamplight fell on a hard-looking mouth, withvery red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of mycompanions 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 agleaming smile. The passenger turned his face away, at the same timeputting out his two fingers and crossing himself. ”Give me the Herr'sluggage,” said the driver; and with exceeding alacrity my bags werehanded out and put in the caleche. Then I descended from the side of thecoach, as the caleche was close alongside, the driver helping me with ahand which caught my arm in a grip of steel; his strength must have beenprodigious. Without a word he shook his reins, the horses turned, and weswept into the darkness of the Pass. As I looked back I saw the steamfrom the horses of the coach by the light of the lamps, and projectedagainst it the figures of my late companions crossing themselves. Thenthe driver cracked his whip and called to his horses, and off they swepton their way to Bukovina. As they sank into the darkness I felt astrange chill, and a lonely feeling came over me; but a cloak was thrownover my shoulders, and a rug across my knees, and the driver said inexcellent German:--
”The night is chill, mein Herr, and my master the Count bade me take allcare of you. There is a flask of slivovitz (the plum brandy of thecountry) underneath the seat, if you should require it.” I did not takeany, but it was a comfort to know it was there all the same. I felt alittle strangely, and not a little frightened. I think had there beenany alternative I should have taken it, instead of prosecuting thatunknown night journey. The carriage went at a hard pace straight along,then we made a complete turn and went along another straight road. Itseemed to me that we were simply going over and over the same groundagain; and so I took note of some salient point, and found that this wasso. I would have liked to have asked the driver what this all meant, butI really feared to do so, for I thought that, placed as I was, anyprotest would have had no effect in case there had been an intention todelay. By-and-by, however, as I was curious to know how time waspassing, I struck a match, and by its flame looked at my watch; it waswithin a few minutes of midnight. This gave me a sort of shock, for Isuppose the general superstition about midnight was increased by myrecent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.
Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road--along, agonised wailing, as if from fear. The sound was taken up byanother dog, and then another and another, till, borne on the wind whichnow sighed softly through the Pass, a wild howling began, which seemedto come from all over the country, as far as the imagination could graspit through the gloom of the night. At the first howl the horses began tostrain and rear, but the driver spoke to them soothingly, and theyquieted down, but shivered and sweated as though after a runaway fromsudden fright. Then, far off in the distance, from the mountains on eachside of us began a louder and a sharper howling--that of wolves--whichaffected both the horses and myself in the same way--for I was minded tojump from the caleche and run, whilst they reared again and plungedmadly, so that the driver had to use all his great strength to keep themfrom bolting. In a few minutes, however, my own ears got accustomed tothe sound, and the horses so far became quiet that the driver was ableto descend and to stand before them. He petted and soothed them, andwhispered something in their ears, as I have heard of horse-tamersdoing, and with extraordinary effect, for under his caresses they becamequite manageable again, though they still trembled. The driver againtook his seat, and shaking his reins, started off at a great pace. Thistime, after going to the far side of the Pass, he suddenly turned down anarrow roadway which ran sharply to the right.
Soon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places arched right over theroadway till we passed as through a tunnel; and again great frowningrocks guarded us boldly on either side. Though we were in shelter, wecould hear the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled through therocks, 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. Thekeen wind still carried the howling of the dogs, though this grewfainter as we went on our way. The baying of the wolves sounded nearerand nearer, as though they were closing round on us from every side. Igrew dreadfully afraid, and the horses shared my fear. The driver,however, was not in the least disturbed; he kept turning his head toleft and right, but I could not see anything through the darkness.
Suddenly, away on our left, I saw a faint flickering blue flame. Thedriver saw it at the same moment; he at once checked the horses, and,jumping to the ground, disappeared into the darkness. I did not knowwhat to do, the less as the howling of the wolves grew closer; but whileI wondered the driver suddenly appeared again, and without a word tookhis seat, and we resumed our journey. I think I must have fallen asleepand kept dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be repeatedendlessly, and now looking back, it is like a sort of awful nightmare.Once the flame appeared so near the road, that even in the darknessaround us I could watch the driver's motions. He went rapidly to wherethe blue flame arose--it must have been very faint, for it did not seemto illumine the place around it at all--and gathering a few stones,formed them into some device. Once there appeared a strange opticaleffect: 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, butas the effect was only momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived mestraining through the darkness. Then for a time there were no blueflames, and we sped onwards through the gloom, with the howling of thewolves around us, as though they were following in a moving circle.
At last there came a time when the driver went further afield than hehad yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began to tremble worsethan ever and to snort and scream with fright. I could not see any causefor it, for the howling of the wolves had ceased altogether; but justthen the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind thejagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I sawaround us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues,with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a hundred times moreterrible 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 manfeels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understandtheir true import.
All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had hadsome peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about and reared, andlooked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way painful to see;but the living ring of terror encompassed them on every side; and theyhad perforce to remain within it. I called to the coachman to come, forit seemed to me that our only chance was to try to break out through thering and to aid his approach. I shouted and beat the side of thecaleche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so asto give him a chance of reaching the trap. How he came there, I knownot, but I heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious command, andlooking towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway. As he swept hislong arms, as though brushing aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolvesfell back and back further still. Just then a heavy cloud passed acrossthe face of the moon, so that we were again in darkness.
When I could see again the driver was climbing into the caleche, and thewolves had disappeared. This was all so strange and uncanny that adreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or move. The timeseemed interminable as we swept on our way, now in almost completedarkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the moon. We kept onascending, with occasional periods of quick descent, but in the mainalways ascending. Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that thedriver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of avast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light,and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the moonlitsky.