When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came
over me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and
peering out of every window I could find; but after a little the
conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings.
When I look back after a few hours I think I must have been
mad for the time, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap.
When, however, the conviction had come to me that I was
helpless I sat down quietly—as quietly as I have ever done
anything in my life—and began to think over what was best to
be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite
conclusion. Of one thing only am I certain; that it is no use
making my ideas known to the Count. He knows well that I am
imprisoned; and as he has done it himself, and has doubtless his
own motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him
fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only plan will be to
keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my
eyes open. I am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby, by
my own fears, or else I am in desperate straits; and if the latter
be so, I need, and shall need, all my brains to get through.I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great
door below shut, and knew that the Count had returned. He did
not come at once into the library, so I went cautiously to my
own room and found him making the bed. This was odd, but
only confirmed what I had all along thought—that there were no
servants in the house. When later I saw him through the chink of
the hinges of the door laying the table in the dining-room, I was
assured of it; for if he does himself all these menial offices,
surely it is proof that there is no one else to do them. This gave
me a fright, for if there is no one else in the castle, it must have
been the Count himself who was the driver of the coach that
brought me here. This is a terrible thought; for if so, what does it
mean that he could control the wolves, as he did, by only
holding up his hand in silence. How was it that all the people at
Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible fear for me? What
meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of
the mountain ash? Bless that good, good woman who hung the
crucifix round my neck! for it is a comfort and a strength to me
whenever I touch it. It is odd that a thing which I have been
taught to regard with disfavour and as idolatrous should in a
time of loneliness and trouble be of help. Is it that there is
something in the essence of the thing itself, or that it is a
medium, a tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy
and comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this
matter and try to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I
must find out all I can about Count Dracula, as it may help me
to understand. To-night he may talk of himself, if I turn theconversation that way. I must be very careful, however, not to
awake his suspicion.
Midnight.—I have had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a
few questions on Transylvania history, and he warmed up to the
subject wonderfully. In his speaking of things and people, and
especially of battles, he spoke as if he had been present at
them all. This he afterwards explained by saying that to a boyar
the pride of his house and name is his own pride, that their glory
is his glory, that their fate is his fate. Whenever he spoke of his
house he always said "we," and spoke almost in the plural, like a
king speaking. I wish I could put down all he said exactly as he
said it, for to me it was most fascinating. It seemed to have in it
a whole history of the country. He grew excited as he spoke,
and walked about the room pulling his great white moustache
and grasping anything on which he laid his hands as though he
would crush it by main strength. One thing he said which I shall
put down as nearly as I can; for it tells in its way the story of his
race:—
"We Szekelys have a right to be proud, for in our veins flows the
blood of
many brave races who fought as the lion fights, for lordship.
Here, in the whirlpool of European races, the Ugric tribe bore
down from Iceland the fighting spirit which Thor and Wodin
gave them, which their Berserkers displayed to such fell intent.
on the seaboards of Europe, ay, and of Asia and Africa too, till
the peoples thought that the were-wolves themselves had come.
Here, too, when they came, they found the Huns, whose warlike
fury had swept the earth like a living flame, till the dying
peoples held that in their veins ran the blood of those old
witches, who, expelled from Scythia had mated with the devils
in the desert. Fools, fools! What devil or what witch was ever so
great as Attila, whose blood is in these veins?" He held up his
arms. "Is it a wonder that we were a conquering race; that we
were proud; that when the Magyar, the Lombard, the Avar, the
Bulgar, or the Turk poured his thousands on our frontiers, we
drove them back? Is it strange that when Arpad and his legions
swept through the Hungarian fatherland he found us here when
he reached the frontier; that the Honfoglalas was completed
there? And when the Hungarian flood swept eastward, the
Szekelys were claimed as kindred by the victorious Magyars,
and to us for centuries was trusted the guarding of the frontier
of Turkey-land; ay, and more than that, endless duty of the
frontier guard, for, as the Turks say, 'water sleeps, and enemy is
sleepless.' Who more gladly than we throughout the Four
Nations received the 'bloody sword,' or at its warlike call flocked
quicker to the standard of the King? When was redeemed that
great shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, when the
flags of the Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the
Crescent? Who was it but one of my own race who as Voivode
crossed the Danube and beat the Turk on his own ground? This
was a Dracula indeed! Woe was it that his own unworthybrother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the Turk and
brought the shame of slavery on them! Was it not this Dracula,
indeed, who inspired that other of his race who in a later age
again and again brought his forces over the great river into
Turkey-land; who, when he was beaten back, came again, and
again, and again, though he had to come alone from the bloody
field where his troops were being slaughtered, since he knew
that he alone could ultimately triumph! They said that he
thought only of himself. Bah! what good are peasants without a
leader? Where ends the war without a brain and heart to
conduct it? Again, when, after the battle of Mohács, we threw
off the Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood were amongst
their leaders, for our spirit would not brook that we were not
free. Ah, young sir, the Szekelys—and the Dracula as their
heart's blood, their brains, and their swords—can boast a record
that mushroom growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs
can never reach. The warlike days are over. Blood is too
precious a thing in these days of dishonourable peace; and the
glories of the great races are as a tale that is told."
It was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed.
(Mem., this
diary seems horribly like the beginning of the "Arabian Nights,"
for everything has to break off at cockcrow—or like the ghost of
Hamlet's father.)12 May.—Let me begin with facts—bare, meagre facts, verified
by books and figures, and of which there can be no doubt. I
must not confuse them with experiences which will have to rest
on my own observation, or my memory of them. Last evening
when the Count came from his room he began by asking me
questions on legal matters and on the doing of certain kinds of
business. I had spent the day wearily over books, and, simply to
keep my mind occupied, went over some of the matters I had
been examined in at Lincoln's Inn. There was a certain method
in the Count's inquiries, so I shall try to put them down in
sequence; the knowledge may somehow or some time be useful
to me.
First, he asked if a man in England might have two solicitors or
more. I told him he might have a dozen if he wished, but that it
would not be wise to have more than one solicitor engaged in
one transaction, as only one could act at a time, and that to
change would be certain to militate against his interest. He
seemed thoroughly to understand, and went on to ask if there
would be any practical difficulty in having one man to attend,
say, to banking, and another to look after shipping, in case local
help were needed in a place far from the home of the banking
solicitor. I asked him to explain more fully, so that I might not
by any chance mislead him, so he said:—
"I shall illustrate. Your friend and mine, Mr. Peter Hawkins, from
under the shadow of your beautiful cathedral at Exeter, which is
far from London, buys for me through your good self my placeat London. Good! Now here let me say frankly, lest you should
think it strange that I have sought the services of one so far off
from London instead of some one resident there, that my
motive was that no local interest might be served save my wish
only; and as one of London residence might, perhaps, have
some purpose of himself or friend to serve, I went thus afield to
seek my agent, whose labours should be only to my interest.
Now, suppose I, who have much of affairs, wish to ship goods,
say, to Newcastle, or Durham, or Harwich, or Dover, might it not
be that it could with more ease be done by consigning to one in
these ports?" I answered that certainly it would be most easy,
but that we solicitors had a system of agency one for the other,
so that local work could be done locally on instruction from any
solicitor, so that the client, simply placing himself in the hands
of one man, could have his wishes carried out by him without
further trouble.
"But," said he, "I could be at liberty to direct myself. Is it not
so?"
"Of course," I replied; and "such is often done by men of
business, who do not like the whole of their affairs to be known
by any one person."
"Good!" he said, and then went on to ask about the means of
making consignments and the forms to be gone through, and of
all sorts of difficultiewhich might arise, but by forethought could be guarded
against. I explained all these things to him to the best of my
ability, and he certainly left me under the impression that he
would have made a wonderful solicitor, for there was nothing
that he did not think of or foresee. For a man who was never in
the country, and who did not evidently do much in the way of
business, his knowledge and acumen were wonderful. When he
had satisfied himself on these points of which he had spoken,
and I had verified all as well as I could by the books available,
he suddenly stood up and said:—
"Have you written since your first letter to our friend Mr. Peter
Hawkins, or to any other?" It was with some bitterness in my
heart that I answered that I had not, that as yet I had not seen
any opportunity of sending letters to anybody.
"Then write now, my young friend," he said, laying a heavy hand
on my shoulder: "write to our friend and to any other; and say, if
it will please you, that you shall stay with me until a month from
now."
"Do you wish me to stay so long?" I asked, for my heart grew
cold at the thought.
"I desire it much; nay, I will take no refusal. When your master,
employer, what you will, engaged that someone should come on
his behalf, it was understood that my needs only were to be
consulted. I have not stinted. Is it not so?"What could I do but bow acceptance? It was Mr. Hawkins's
interest, not mine, and I had to think of him, not myself; and
besides, while Count Dracula was speaking, there was that in his
eyes and in his bearing which made me remember that I was a
prisoner, and that if I wished it I could have no choice. The
Count saw his victory in my bow, and his mastery in the trouble
of my face, for he began at once to use them, but in his own
smooth, resistless way:
—
"I pray you, my good young friend, that you will not discourse
of things other than business in your letters. It will doubtless
please your friends to know that you are well, and that you look
forward to getting home to them. Is it not so?" As he spoke he
handed me three sheets of note-paper and three envelopes.
They were all of the thinnest foreign post, and looking at them,
then at him, and noticing his quiet smile, with the sharp, canine
teeth lying over the red underlip, I understood as well as if he
had spoken that I should be careful what I wrote, for he would
be able to read it. So I determined to write only formal notes
now, but to write fully to Mr. Hawkins in secret, and also to Mina,
for to her I could write in shorthand, which would puzzle the
Count, if he did see it. When I had written my two letters I sat
quiet, reading a book whilst the Count wrote several notes,
referring as he wrote them to somebooks on his table. Then he took up my two and placed them
with his own, and put by his writing materials, after which, the
instant the door had closed behind him, I leaned over and
looked at the letters, which were face down on the table. I felt
no compunction in doing so, for under the circumstances I felt
that I should protect myself in every way I could.
One of the letters was directed to Samuel F. Billington, No. 7,
The Crescent, Whitby, another to Herr Leutner, Varna; the third
was to Coutts & Co., London, and the fourth to Herren Klopstock
& Billreuth, bankers, Buda- Pesth. The second and fourth were
unsealed. I was just about to look at them when I saw the door-
handle move. I sank back in my seat, having just had time to
replace the letters as they had been and to resume my book
before the Count, holding still another letter in his hand, entered
the room. He took up the letters on the table and stamped them
carefully, and then turning to me, said:—
"I trust you will forgive me, but I have much work to do in
private this evening. You will, I hope, find all things as you wish."
At the door he turned, and after a moment's pause said:—
"Let me advise you, my dear young friend—nay, let me warn
you with all seriousness, that should you leave these rooms you
will not by any chance go to sleep in any other part of the
castle. It is old, and has many memories, and there are bad
dreams for those who sleep unwisely. Be warned! Should sleep
now or ever overcome you, or be like to do, then haste to your
own chamber or to these rooms, for your rest will then be safe.But if you be not careful in this respect, then"—He finished his
speech in a gruesome way, for he motioned with his hands as if
he were washing them. I quite understood; my only doubt was
as to whether any dream could be more terrible than the
unnatural, horrible net of gloom and mystery which seemed
closing around me.
Later.—I endorse the last words written, but this time there is no
doubt in question. I shall not fear to sleep in any place where he
is not. I have placed the crucifix over the head of my bed—I
imagine that my rest is thus freer from dreams; and there it
shall remain.
When he left me I went to my room. After a little while, not
hearing any sound, I came out and went up the stone stair to
where I could look out towards the South. There was some
sense of freedom in the vast expanse, inaccessible though it
was to me, as compared with the narrow darkness of the
courtyard. Looking out on this, I felt that I was indeed in prison,
and I seemed to want a breath of fresh air, though it were of
the night. I am beginning to feel this nocturnal existence tell on
me. It is destroying my nerve. I start at my own shadow, and
am full of all sorts of horrible imaginings. God knows that there
is ground for my terrible fear in this accursed place! I looked out
over the beautiful expanse, bathed in soft yellow moonlight till it
was almost as light as day. In the soft light the distant hillsbecame melted, and the shadows in the valleys and gorges of
velvety blackness. The mere beauty seemed to cheer me; there
was peace and comfort in every breath I drew. As I leaned from
the window my eye was caught by something moving a storey
below me, and somewhat to my left, where I imagined, from the
order of the rooms, that the windows of the Count's own room
would look out. The window at which I stood was tall and deep,
stone-mullioned, and though weatherworn, was still complete;
but it was evidently many a day since the case had been there.
I drew back behind the stonework, and looked carefully out.
What I saw was the Count's head coming out from the window.
I did not see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and the
movement of his back and arms. In any case I could not
mistake the hands which I had had so many opportunities of
studying. I was at first interested and somewhat amused, for it
is wonderful how small a matter will interest and amuse a man
when he is a prisoner. But my very feelings changed to repulsion
and terror when I saw the whole man slowly emerge from the
window and begin to crawl down the castle wall over that
dreadful abyss, face down with his cloak spreading out around
him like great wings. At first I could not believe my eyes. I
thought it was some trick of the moonlight, some weird effect of
shadow; but I kept looking, and it could be no delusion. I saw
the fingers and toes grasp the corners of the stones, worn clear
of the mortar by the stress of years, and by thus using everyprojection and inequality move downwards with considerable
speed, just as a lizard moves along a wall.
What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature is it in
the semblance of man? I feel the dread of this horrible place
overpowering me; I am in fear—in awful fear—and there is no
escape for me; I am encompassed about with terrors that I
dare not think of....
15 May.—Once more have I seen the Count go out in his lizard
fashion. He moved downwards in a sidelong way, some hundred
feet down, and a good deal to the left. He vanished into some
hole or window. When his head had disappeared, I leaned out
to try and see more, but without avail—the distance was too
great to allow a proper angle of sight. I knew he had left the
castle now, and thought to use the opportunity to explore more
than I had dared to do as yet. I went back to the room, and
taking a lamp, tried all the doors. They were all locked, as I had
expected, and the locks were comparatively new; but I went
down the stone stairs to the hall where I had entered originally.
I found I could pull back the bolts easily enough and unhook
the great chains; but the door was locked, and the key was
gone! That key must be in the Count's room; I must watch
should his door be unlocked, so that I may get it and
escape. I went on to make a thorough examination of the
various stairs and passages, and to try the doors that openedfrom them. One or two small rooms near the hall were open, but
there was nothing to see in them except old furniture, dusty with
age and moth-eaten. At last, however, I found one door at the
top of the stairway which, though it seemed to be locked, gave
a little under pressure. I tried it harder, and found that it was
not really locked, but that the resistance came from the fact
that the hinges had fallen somewhat, and the heavy door rested
on the floor. Here was an opportunity which I might not have
again, so I exerted myself, and with many efforts forced it back
so that I could enter. I was now in a wing of the castle further to
the right than the rooms I knew and a storey lower down. From
the windows I could see that the suite of rooms lay along to the
south of the castle, the windows of the end room looking out
both west and south. On the latter side, as well as to the former,
there was a great precipice. The castle was built on the corner
of a great rock, so that on three sides it was quite impregnable,
and great windows were placed here where sling, or bow, or
culverin could not reach, and consequently light and comfort,
impossible to a position which had to be guarded, were secured.
To the west was a great valley, and then, rising far away, great
jagged mountain fastnesses, rising peak on peak, the sheer rock
studded with mountain ash and thorn, whose roots clung in
cracks and crevices and crannies of the stone. This was
evidently the portion of the castle occupied by the ladies in
bygone days, for the furniture had more air of comfort than any
I had seen. The windows were curtainless, and the yellow
moonlight, flooding in through the diamond panes, enabled oneto see even colours, whilst it softened the wealth of dust which
lay over all and disguised in some measure the ravages of time
and the moth. My lamp seemed to be of little effect in the
brilliant moonlight, but I was glad to have it with me, for there
was a dread loneliness in the place which chilled my heart and
made my nerves tremble. Still, it was better than living alone in
the rooms which I had come to hate from the presence of the
Count, and after trying a little to school my nerves, I found a
soft quietude come over me. Here I am, sitting at a little oak
table where in old times possibly some fair lady sat to pen, with
much thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love-letter, and
writing in my diary in shorthand all that has happened since I
closed it last. It is nineteenth century up-to-date with a
vengeance. And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old
centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere
"modernity" cannot kill.
Later: the Morning of 16 May.—God preserve my sanity, for to
this I am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety are
things of the past. Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to
hope for, that I may not go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad
already. If I be sane, then surely it is maddening to think that of
all the foul things that lurk in this hateful place the Count is the
least dreadful to
me; that to him alone I can look for safety, even though this be
only whilst I can serve his purpose. Great God! merciful God! Letme be calm, for out of that way lies madness indeed. I begin to
get new lights on certain things which have puzzled me. Up to
now I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant when he
made Hamlet say:—
"My tablets! quick, my tablets! 'Tis meet that I put it down," etc.,
for now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if
the shock had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my
diary for repose. The habit of entering accurately must help to
soothe me.
The Count's mysterious warning frightened me at the time; it
frightens me more now when I think of it, for in future he has a
fearful hold upon me. I shall fear to doubt what he may say!
When I had written in my diary and had fortunately replaced
the book and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The Count's
warning came into my mind, but I took a pleasure in disobeying
it. The sense of sleep was upon me, and with it the obstinacy
which sleep brings as outrider. The soft moonlight soothed, and
the wide expanse without gave a sense of freedom which
refreshed me. I determined not to return to-night to the gloom-
haunted rooms, but to sleep here, where, of old, ladies had sat
and sung and lived sweet lives whilst their gentle breasts were
sad for their menfolk away in the midst of remorseless wars. I
drew a great couch out of its place near the corner, so that as I
lay, I could look at the lovely view to east and south, and
unthinking of and uncaring for the dust, composed myself forsleep. I suppose I must have fallen asleep; I hope so, but I fear,
for all that followed was startlingly real—so real that now sitting
here in the broad, full sunlight of the morning, I cannot in the
least believe that it was all sleep.
I was not alone. The room was the same, unchanged in any way
since I came into it; I could see along the floor, in the brilliant
moonlight, my own footsteps marked where I had disturbed the
long accumulation of dust. In the moonlight opposite me were
three young women, ladies by their dress and manner. I thought
at the time that I must be dreaming when I saw them, for,
though the moonlight was behind them, they threw no shadow
on the floor. They came close to me, and looked at me for some
time, and then whispered together. Two were dark, and had
high aquiline noses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing
eyes that seemed to be almost red when contrasted with the
pale yellow moon. The other was fair, as fair as can be, with
great wavy masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires.
I seemed somehow to know her face, and to know it in
connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at
the moment how or where. All three had brilliant white
teeth that shone like pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous
lips. There was something about them that made me uneasy,
some longing and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt in
my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with
those red lips. It is not good to note this down, lest some day itshould meet Mina's eyes and cause her pain; but it is the truth.
They whispered together, and then they all three laughed—such
a silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though the sound never
could have come through the softness of human lips. It was like
the intolerable, tingling sweetness of water- glasses when
played on by a cunning hand. The fair girl shook her head
coquettishly, and the other two urged her on. One said:—
"Go on! You are first, and we shall follow; yours is the right to
begin." The other added:—
"He is young and strong; there are kisses for us all." I lay quiet,
looking out under my eyelashes in an agony of delightful
anticipation. The fair girl advanced and bent over me till I could
feel the movement of her breath upon me. Sweet it was in one
sense, honey-sweet, and sent the same tingling through the
nerves as her voice, but with a bitter underlying the sweet, a
bitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood.
I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw
perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent
over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate
voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as
she arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an animal,
till I could see in the moonlight the moisture shining on the
scarlet lips and on the red tongue as it lapped the white sharp
teeth. Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the
range of my mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my
throat. Then she paused, and I could hear the churning sound ofThere was no door near them, and they could not have passed
me without my noticing. They simply seemed to fade into the
rays of the moonlight and pass out through the window, for I
could see outside the dim, shadowy forms for a moment before
they entirely faded away.
Then the horror overcame me, and I sank down unconscious.