Dracula by Bram Stoker

DRACULA

A Mystery Story

by Bram Stoker – 1897 edition

Edited by Dell Sweet © Copyright 2018.

This book is in the public domain


How these papers have been placed in sequence will be made manifest in the

reading of them. All needless matters have been eliminated, so that a history

almost at variance with the possibilities of latter-day belief may stand forth

as simple fact. There is throughout no statement of past things wherein

memory may err, for all the records chosen are exactly contemporary, given

from the standpoints and within the range of knowledge of those who made them.


TABLE OF CONTENTS

 

 

CHAPTER

 

1  Jonathan Harker’s Journal

2  Jonathan Harker’s Journal

3  Jonathan Harker’s Journal

4  Jonathan Harker’s Journal

5  Letter From Miss Mina Murray To Miss Lucy Westenra

6  Mina Murray’s Journal

7  Cutting From “The Dailygraph”, 8 August

8  Mina Murray’s Journal

9  Letter, Mina Harker To Lucy Westenra

10  Letter, Dr. Seward To Hon. Arthur Holmwood

11  Lucy Westenra’s Diary

12  Dr. Seward’s Diary

13  Dr. Seward’s Diary

14  Mina Harker’s Journal

15  Dr. Seward’s Diary

16  Dr. Seward’s Diary

17  Dr. Seward’s Diary

18  Dr. Seward’s Diary

19  Jonathan Harker’s Journal

20  Jonathan Harker’s Journal

21  Dr. Seward’s Diary

22  Jonathan Harker’s Journal

23  Dr. Seward’s Diary

24  Dr. Seward’s Phonograph Diary

25  Dr. Seward’s Diary

26  Dr. Seward’s Diary

27  Mina Harker’s Journal

 


CHAPTER 1

 

 

Jonathan Harker’s Journal

 

(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 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 to 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

shirtsleeves, 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 tonight,

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

goodbye.  Here comes the coach! …


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