CHAPTER I
Jonathan Harker's Journal
3 May. Bistritz.
Left Munich at 8:35 P. M, on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning
; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems
a wonderful place, from theglimpse which I got of it from the train and
the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from
the station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct
time as possible.
The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the
East; the most western of
splendid bridges over the Danube, which is here of noble width and depth,
took us among the
traditions of Turkish rule.
We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. Here
I stopped for the night at
the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up
some way with red pepper,
which was very good but thirsty. (Mem. get recipe for Mina.) I asked the
waiter, and he said it was
called "paprika hendl," and that, as it was a national dish, I
should be able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians.
I found my smattering of German very useful here, indeed, I don't know how
I should be able to get
on without it.
Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the British
Museum, and made
search among the books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it
had struck me that some
foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some importance in
dealing with a nobleman
of that country.
I find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the country,
just on the borders of three
states, Transylvania, Moldavia, and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian
mountains; one of the
wildest and least known portions of Europe.
I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of
the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to compare
with our own Ordance Survey Maps; but I found that
Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place.
I shall enter here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when
I talk over my travels with Mina.
In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct nationalities:
Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the Wallachs, who are the descendants
of the Dacians; Magyars in the West, and Szekelys in the East and North.
I am going among the latter, who claim to be descended from Attila and the
Huns. This may be so, for when the Magyars conquered the country in the
eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it.
I read that every known superstition in the world is gathered into the horseshoe
of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative
whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting.
(Mem., I must ask the Count all about them.)
I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all
sorts of queer dreams.
There was a dog howling all night under my window, which may have had something
to do with it;
or it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in
my carafe, and was still thirsty.
Towards morning I slept and was wakened by the continuous knocking at my
door, so I guess I must have been sleeping soundly then.
I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize flour
which they said was
"mamaliga", and egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat, a very excellent
dish, which they call "impletata".
(Mem.,get recipe for this also.)
I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a little before eight, or
rather it ought to have done so, for after rushing to the station at 7:30
I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour before we began to move.
It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual are the
trains. What ought they to be in China?
All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of beauty
of every kind.
Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on the top of steep hills such
as we see in old missals;
sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony
margin on each side of
them to be subject ot great floods. It takes a lot of water, and running
strong, to sweep the outside
edge of a river clear.
At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all
sorts of attire. Some of
them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through France
and Germany, with
short jackets, and round hats, and home-made trousers; but others were very
picturesque.
The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very
clumsy about the
waist. They had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of
them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them
like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were
petticoats under them.
The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than
the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers,
white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide,
all studded over with brass nails. They wore high boots, with their trousers
tucked into them, and had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They
are very picturesque, but do not look prepossessing. On the stage they would
be set down at once as some old Oriental band of brigands. They are, however,
I am told, very harmless and rather wanting in natural self-assertion.
It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a
very interesting old place.
Being practically on the frontier--for the Borgo Pass leads from it into
Bukovina--it has had a very
stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago a
series of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five separate
occasions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century it underwent
a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper
being assisted by famine and disease.
Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I found,
to my great delight,
to be thoroughly old fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all I could
of the ways of the country.
I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking
elderly woman in the
usual peasant dress--white undergarment with a long double apron, front,
and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I
came close she bowed and said, "The Herr Englishman?"
"Yes," I said, "Jonathan Harker."
She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white shirt-sleeves,
who had followed her to the door. He went, but immediately returned with
a letter:
"My friend. Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you.
Sleep well tonight. At three tomorrow the diligence will start for Bukovina;
a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await
you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has
been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.--Your
friend, Dracula."
4 May-
I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count, directing him
to secure the best place
on the coach for me; but on making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat
reticent, and pretended that he could not understand my German.
This could not be true, because up to then he had understood it perfectly;
at least, he answered my
questions exactly as if he did.
He and his wife, the old lady who had received me, looked at each other
in a frightened sort of way.
He mumbled out that the money had been sent in a letter, and that was all
he knew. When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything
of his castle, both he and his wife crossed
themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to
speak further. It was so near
the time of starting that I had no time to ask anyone else, for it was all
very mysterious and not by any means comforting.
Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in a
hysterical way: "Must you
go? Oh! Young Herr, must you go?" She was in such an excited state
that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she knew, and mixed
it all up with some other language which I did not know at all. I was just
able to follow her by asking many questions. When I told her that I must
go at once, and that I was engaged on important business, she asked again:
"Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth
of May. She shook her head as she
said again: "Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what
day it is?"
On my saying that I did not understand, she went on: "It is the eve
of St. George's Day. Do you not know that to-night, when the clock strikes
midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know
where you are going, and what you are going to?" She was in such evident
distress that I tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally, she went
down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two
before starting.
It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, there
was business to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it.
I tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked
her, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go.
She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered
it to me.
I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have been taught
to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so
ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of
mind.
She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary round my
neck and said, "For your
mother's sake," and went out of the room. I am writing up this part
of the diary whilst I am waiting for the coach, which is, of course, late;
and the crucifix is still round my neck. Whether it is the old lady's fear,
or the many ghostly traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I
do not know, but I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual. If
this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my good-bye.
Here comes the coach !
5 May- The Castle.
The gray of the morning has passed, and the sun is high over the distant
horizon, which seems jagged, whether with trees or hills I know not, for
it is so far off that big things and little are mixed.
I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I awake, naturally I
write till sleep comes.
There are many odd things to put down, and, lest who reads them may fancy
that I dined too well
before I left Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly.
I dined on what they called "robber steak"--bits of bacon, onion,
and beef, seasoned with red pepper,
and strung on sticks, and roasted over the fire, in simple style of the
London cat's meat!
The wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on the tongue,
which is, however, not disagreeable. I had only a couple of glasses of this,
and nothing else. When I got on the coach, the driver had not taken his
seat, and I saw him talking to the landlady.
They were evidently talking of me, for every now and then they looked at
me, and some of the people who were sitting on the bench outside the door--came
and listened, and then looked at me, most of them pityingly. I could hear
a lot of words often repeated, queer words, for there were many nationalities
in the crowd, so I quietly got my polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked
them out.
I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were "Ordog"
Satan, "Pokol" hell,
"stregoica"witch, "vrolok" and "vlkoslak"--both
mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the
other Servian for something that is either werewolf or vampire. (Mem, I
must ask the Count about
these superstitions.)
When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had by this time swelled
to a considerable
size, all made the sign of the cross and pointed two fingers towards me.
With some difficulty, I got a fellow passenger to tell me what they meant.
He would not answer at
first, but on learning that I was English, he explained that it was a charm
or guard against the evil eye.
This was not very pleasant for me, just starting for an unknown place to
meet an unknown man. But
everyone seemed so kind-hearted, and so sorrowful, and so sympathetic that
I could not but be
touched.
I shall never forget the last glimpse which I had of the inn yard and its
crowd of picturesque figures,
all crossing themselves, as they stood round the wide archway, with its
background of rich foliage of oleander and orange trees in green tubs clustered
in the centre of the yard.
Then our driver, whose wide linen drawers covered the whole front of the
boxseat,"gotza" they call them cracked his big whip over his four
small horses, which ran abreast, and we set off on our
journey.
I soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly fears in the beauty of the
scene as we drove along,
although had I known the language, or rather languages, which my fellow
passengers were speaking, I might not have been able to throw them off so
easily. Before us lay a green sloping land full of forests and woods, with
here and there steep hills, crowned with clumps of trees or with farmhouses,
the blank gable end to the road. There was everywhere a bewildering mass
of fruit blossom apple, plum, pear, cherry. And as we drove by I could see
the green grass under the trees spangled with the fallen petals. In and
out amongst these green hills of what they call here the "Mittel Land"
ran the road, losing itself as it swept round the grassy curve, or was shut
out by the straggling ends of pine woods, which here and there ran down
the hillsides like tongues of flame. The road was rugged, but still we seemed
to fly over it with a feverish haste. I could not understand then what the
haste meant, but the driver was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching
Borgo Prund. I was told that this road is in summertime excellent, but that
it had not yet been put in order after the winter snows. In this respect
it is different from the general run of roads in the Carpathians, for it
is an old tradition that they are not to be kept in too good order. Of old
the Hospadars would not repair them, lest the Turk should think that they
were preparing to bring in foreign troops, and so hasten the war which was
always really at loading point.
Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty slopes of
forest up to the lofty steeps
of the Carpathians themselves. Right and left of us they towered, with the
afternoon sun falling full
upon them and bringing out all the glorious colours of this beautiful range,
deep blue and purple in the shadows of the peaks, green and brown where
grass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged rock and pointed
crags, till these were themselves lost in the distance, where the snowy
peaks rose grandly. Here and there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains,
through which, as the sun began to sink, we saw now and again the white
gleam of falling water. One of my companions touched my arm as we swept
round the base of a hill and opened up the lofty, snow-covered peak of a
mountain, which seemed, as we wound on our serpentine way, to be right before
us.
"Look! Isten szek!"--"God's seat!"--and he crossed himself
reverently.
As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower behind
us, the shadows of the
evening began to creep round us. This was emphasized by the fact that the
snowy mountain-top still
held the sunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool pink. Here
and there we passed Cszeks
and slovaks, all in picturesque attire, but I noticed that goitre was painfully
prevalent. By the roadside were many crosses, and as we swept by, my companions
all crossed themselves. Here and there was a peasant man or woman kneeling
before a shrine, who did not even turn round as we approached, but seemed
in the self-surrender of devotion to have neither eyes nor ears for the
outer world. There were many things new to me. For instance, hay-ricks in
the trees, and here and there very beautiful masses of weeping birch, their
white stems shining like silver through the delicate green of the leaves.
Now and again we passed a leiter-wagon--the ordinary peasants's cart with
its long, snakelike
vertebra, calculated to suit the inequalities of the road. On this were
sure to be seated quite a group of
homecoming peasants, the Cszeks with their white, and the Slovaks with their
coloured sheepskins,
the latter carrying lance-fashion their long staves, with axe at end. As
the evening fell it began to get
very cold, and the growing twilight seemed to merge into one dark mistiness
the gloom of the trees,
oak, beech, and pine, though in the valleys which ran deep between the spurs
of the hills, as we
ascended through the Pass, the dark firs stood out here and there against
the background of latelying
snow. Sometimes, as the road was cut through the pine woods that seemed
in the darkness to be
closing down upon us, great masses of greyness which here and there bestrewed
the trees, produced
a peculiarly weird and solemn effect, which carried on the thoughts and
grim fancies engendered
earlier in the evening, when the falling sunset threw into strange relief
the ghost-like clouds which
amongst the Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly through the valleys. Sometimes
the hills were so
steep that, despite our driver's haste, the horses could only go slowly.
I wished to get down and walk up them, as we do at home, but the driver
would not hear of it. "No, no," he said. "You must not walk
here. The dogs are too fierce." And then he added, with what he evidently
meant for grim
pleasantry--for he looked round to catch the approving smile of the rest"
And you may have enough of such matters before you go to sleep." The
only stop he would make was a moment's pause to light his lamps.
When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement amongst the passengers,
and they kept
speaking to him, one after the other, as though urging him to further speed.
He lashed the horses
unmercifully with his long whip, and with wild cries of encouragement urged
them on to further
exertions. Then through the darkness I could see a sort of patch of grey
light ahead of us, as though
there were a cleft in the hills. The excitement of the passengers grew greater.
The crazy coach rocked
on its great leather springs, and swayed like a boat tossed on a stormy
sea. I had to hold on. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly
along. Then the mountains seemed to come nearer to us on each side and to
frown down upon us. We were entering on the Borgo Pass. One by one several
of the passengers offered me gifts, which they pressed upon me with an earnestness
which would take no denial. These were certainly of an odd and varied kind,
but each was given in simple good faith, with a kindly word, and a blessing,
and that same strange mixture of fear-meaning movements which I had seen
outside the hotel at Bistritz the sign of the cross and the guard against
the evil eye. Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned forward, and on
each side the passengers, craning over the edge of the coach, peered eagerly
into the darkness. It was evident that something very exciting was either
happening or expected, but though I asked each passenger, no one would give
me the slightest explanation. This state of excitement kept on for some
little time. And at last we saw before us the Pass opening out on the eastern
side. There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy,
oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had
separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one.
I was now myself looking out for the conveyance which was to take me to
the Count. Each moment I expected to see the glare of lamps through the
blackness, but all was dark. The only light was the flickering rays of our
own lamps, in which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in a white
cloud. We could see now the sandy road lying white before us, but there
was on it no sign of a vehicle. The passengers drew back with a sigh of
gladness, which seemed to mock my own disappointment. I was already thinking
what I had best do, when the driver, looking at his watch, said to the others
something which I could hardly hear, it was spoken so quietly and in so
low a tone, I thought it was "An hour less than the time." Then
turning to me, he spoke in German worse than my own. "There is no carriage
here. The Herr is not expected after all. He will now come on to Bukovina,
and return tomorrow or the next day, better the next day." Whilst he
was speaking the horses began to neigh and snort and plunge wildly, so that
the driver had to hold them up. Then, amongst a chorus of screams from the
peasants and a universal crossing of themselves, a caleche, with four horses,
drove up behind us, overtook us, and drew up beside the coach. I could see
from the flash of our lamps as the rays fell on them, that the horses were
coal-black and splendid animals. They were driven by a tall man, with a
long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from
us. I could only see the gleam of a pair of very bright eyes, which seemed
red in the lamplight, as he turned to us. He said to the driver, "You
are early tonight, my friend."
The man stammered in reply, "The English Herr was in a hurry."
To which the stranger replied, "That is why, I suppose, you wished
him to go on to Bukovina. You
cannot deceive me, my friend. I know too much, and my horses are swift."
As he spoke he smiled, and the lamplight fell on a hardlooking mouth, with
very red lips and
sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered to
another the line from
Burger's "Lenore".
"Denn die Todten reiten Schnell." ("For the dead travel fast.")
The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming
smile. The passenger turned his face away, at the same time putting out
his two fingers and crossing himself. "Give me the Herr's luggage,"
said the driver, and with exceeding alacrity my bags were handed out and
put in the caleche. Then I descended from the side of the coach, as the
caleche was close alongside, the driver helping me with a hand which caught
my arm in a grip of steel. His strength must have been prodigious.
Without a word he shook his reins, the horses turned, and we swept into
the darkness of the pass. As I looked back I saw the steam from the horses
of the coach by the light of the lamps, and projected against it the figures
of my late companions crossing themselves. Then the driver cracked his whip
and called to his horses, and off they swept on their way to Bukovina. As
they sank into the darkness I felt a strange chill, and a lonely feeling
come over me. But a cloak was thrown over my shoulders, and a rug across
my knees, and the driver said in excellent German.
"The night is chill, mein Herr, and my master the Count bade me take
all care of you. There is a flask of slivovitz (the plum brandy of the country)
underneath the seat, if you should require it."
I did not take any, but it was a comfort to know it was there all the same.
I felt a little strangely, and
not a little frightened. I think had there been any alternative I should
have taken it, instead of
prosecuting that unknown night journey. The carriage went at a hard pace
straight along, then we
made a complete turn and went along another straight road. It seemed to
me that we were simply
going over and over the same ground again, and so I took note of some salient
point, and found that
this was so. I would have liked to have asked the driver what this all meant,
but I really feared to do
so, for I thought that, placed as I was, any protest would have had no effect
in case there had been an
intention to delay.
By-and-by, however, as I was curious to know how time was passing, I struck
a match, and by its
flame looked at my watch. It was within a few minutes of midnight. This
gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight
was increased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of
suspense.
Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road, a long,
agonized wailing, as if from fear. The sound was taken up by another dog,
and then another and another, till, borne on the wind which now sighed softly
through the Pass, a wild howling began, which seemed to come from all over
the country, as far as the imagination could grasp it through the gloom
of the night.
At the first howl the horses began to strain and rear, but the driver spoke
to them soothingly, and they quieted down, but shivered and sweated as though
after a runaway from sudden fright. Then, far off in the distance, from
the mountains on each side of us began a louder and a sharper howling, that
of wolves, which affected both the horses and myself in the same way. For
I was minded to jump from the caleche and run, whilst they reared again
and plunged madly, so that the driver had to use all his great strength
to keep them from bolting. In a few minutes, however, my own ears got accustomed
to the sound, and the horses so far became quiet that the driver was able
to descend and to stand before them.
He petted and soothed them, and whispered something in their ears, as I
have heard of horse-tamers
doing, and with extraordinary effect, for under his caresses they became
quite manageable again,
though they still trembled. The driver again took his seat, and shaking
his reins, started off at a great
pace. This time, after going to the far side or the Pass, he suddenly turned
down a narrow roadway
which ran sharply to the right.
Soon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places arched right over the
roadway till we passed as through a tunnel. And again great frowning rocks
guarded us boldly on either side. Though we were in shelter, we could hear
the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled through the rocks, and the
branches of the trees crashed together as we swept along. It grew colder
and colder still, and fine,
powdery snow began to fall, so that soon we and all around us were covered
with a white blanket.
The keen wind still carried the howling of the dogs, though this grew fainter
as we went on our way.
The baying of the wolves sounded nearer and nearer, as though they were
closing round on us from
every side. I grew dreadfully afraid, and the horses shared my fear. The
driver, however, was not in
the least disturbed. He kept turning his head to left and right, but I could
not see anything through the darkness.
Suddenly, away on our left I saw a fain flickering blue flame. The driver
saw it at the same moment.
He at once checked the horses, and, jumping to the ground, disappeared into
the darkness. I did not
know what to do, the less as the howling of the wolves grew closer. But
while I wondered, the driver suddenly appeared again, and without a word
took his seat, and we resumed our journey. I think I must have fallen asleep
and kept dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be repeated endlessly,
and now looking back, it is like a sort of awful nightmare. Once the flame
appeared so near the road, that even in the darkness around us I could watch
the driver's motions. He went rapidly to where the blue flame arose, it
must have been very faint, for it did not seem to illumine the place around
it at all, and gathering a few stones, formed them into some device.
Once there appeared a strange optical effect. When he stood between me and
the flame he did not
obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same. This startled
me, but as the effect was only
momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived me straining through the darkness.
Then for a time there
were no blue flames, and we sped onwards through the gloom, with the howling
of the wolves
around us, as though they were following in a moving circle.
At last there came a time when the driver went further afield than he had
yet gone, and during his
absence, the horses began to tremble worse than ever and to snort and scream
with fright. I could not see any cause for it, for the howling of the wolves
had ceased altogether. But just then the moon,
sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a
beetling, pine-clad rock, and
by its light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling
red tongues, with long,
sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a hundred times more terrible in
the grim silence which
held them than even when they howled. For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis
of fear. It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors
that he can understand their true import.
All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had had some
peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about and reared, and looked
helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way painful to see. But the
living ring of terror encompassed them on every side, and they had perforce
to remain within it. I called to the coachman to come, for it seemed to
me that our only chance was to try to break out through the ring and to
aid his approach, I shouted and beat the side of the caleche, hoping by
the noise to scare the wolves from the side, so as to give him a chance
of reaching the trap. How he came there, I know not, but I heard his voice
raised in a tone of imperious command, and looking towards the sound, saw
him stand in the roadway. As he swept his long arms, as though brushing
aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still.
Just then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so that we were
again in darkness.
When I could see again the driver was climbing into the caleche, and the
wolves disappeared. This
was all so strange and uncanny that a dreadful fear came upon me, and I
was afraid to speak or move. The time seemed interminable as we swept on
our way, now in almost complete darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured
the moon.
We kept on ascending, with occasional periods of quick descent, but in the
main always ascending.
Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the driver was in the act
of pulling up the horses in the
courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no
ray of light, and whose
broken battlements showed a jagged line against the sky.
