(Kept in shorthand.)

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 the glimpse 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 Ordnance 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 knownsuperstition 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 to

great floods. It takes a lot of water, and running strong, tosweep 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 ofgreat 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 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 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 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 any one 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 very 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 therefore 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, orthe 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 grey 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 the 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 with 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—which they call by a

name meaning "word-bearer"— came and listened, and thenlooked 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 of which mean

the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for

something that is either were-wolf 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 every one 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 box-

seat—"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 themlest 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 emphasised 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 waspainfully 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 peasant's cart

—with its long, snake-like vertebra, calculated to suit the

inequalities of the

road. On this were sure to be seated quite a group of home-

coming 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 late-lying 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. approach. I shouted and beat the side of the calèche, hoping by

the noise to scare the wolves from that 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 calèche,

and the wolves had 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 moonlit sky.