Dracula by Bram Stoker(11)

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He answered, ‘I am closing the tomb so that the
UnDead may not enter.’
‘And is that stuff you have there going to do it?’
‘It is.’
‘What is that which you are using?’ This time the
question was by Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his
hat as he answered.
‘The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an
Indulgence.’
It was an answer that appalled the most sceptical of us,
and we felt individually that in the presence of such
earnest purpose as the Professor’s, a purpose which could
thus use the to him most sacred of things, it was
impossible to distrust. In respectful silence we took the
places assigned to us close round the tomb, but hidden
from the sight of any one approaching. I pitied the others,
especially Arthur. I had myself been apprenticed by my
former visits to this watching horror, and yet I, who had
up to an hour ago repudiated the proofs, felt my heart sink
within me. Never did tombs look so ghastly white. Never
did cypress, or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of
funeral gloom. Never did tree or grass wave or rustle so
ominously. Never did bough creak so mysteriously, and
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never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a
woeful presage through the night.
There was a long spell of silence, big, aching, void, and
then from the Professor a keen ‘S-s-s-s!’ He pointed, and
far down the avenue of yews we saw a white figure
advance, a dim white figure, which held something dark at
its breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment a ray of
moonlight fell upon the masses of driving clouds, and
showed in startling prominence a dark-haired woman,
dressed in the cerements of the grave. We could not see
the face, for it was bent down over what we saw to be a
fair-haired child. There was a pause and a sharp little cry,
such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before the
fire and dreams. We were starting forward, but the
Professor’s warning hand, seen by us as he stood behind a
yew tree, kept us back. And then as we looked the white
figure moved forwards again. It was now near enough for
us to see clearly, and the moonlight still held. My own
heart grew cold as ice, and I could hear the gasp of Arthur,
as we recognized the features of Lucy Westenra. Lucy

Westenra, but yet how changed. The sweetness was
turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to
voluptuous wantonness.
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Van Helsing stepped out, and obedient to his gesture,
we all advanced too. The four of us ranged in a line before
the door of the tomb. Van Helsing raised his lantern and
drew the slide. By the concentrated light that fell on
Lucy’s face we could see that the lips were crimson with
fresh blood, and that the stream had trickled over her chin
and stained the purity of her lawn death robe.
We shuddered with horror. I could see by the
tremulous light that even Van Helsing’s iron nerve had
failed. Arthur was next to me, and if I had not seized his
arm and held him up, he would have fallen.
When Lucy, I call the thing that was before us Lucy
because it bore her shape, saw us she drew back with an
angry snarl, such as a cat gives when taken unawares, then
her eyes ranged over us. Lucy’s eyes in form and colour,
but Lucy’s eyes unclean and full of hell fire, instead of the
pure, gentle orbs we knew. At that moment the remnant
of my love passed into hate and loathing. Had she then to
be killed, I could have done it with savage delight. As she
looked, her eyes blazed with unholy light, and the face
became wreathed with a voluptuous smile. Oh, God, how
it made me shudder to see it! With a careless motion, she
flung to the ground, callous as a devil, the child that up to
now she had clutched strenuously to her breast, growling
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over it as a dog growls over a bone. The child gave a sharp
cry, and lay there moaning. There was a cold-bloodedness
in the act which wrung a groan from Arthur. When she
advanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton
smile he fell back and hid his face in his hands.
She still advanced, however, and with a languorous,
voluptuous grace, said, ‘Come to me, Arthur. Leave these
others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you.
Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband,
come!’
There was something diabolically sweet in her tones,
something of the tinkling of glass when struck, which rang
through the brains even of us who heard the words
addressed to another.
As for Arthur, he seemed under a spell, moving his
hands from his face, he opened wide his arms. She was
leaping for them, when Van Helsing sprang forward and
held between them his little golden crucifix. She recoiled
from it, and, with a suddenly distorted face, full of rage,
dashed past him as if to enter the tomb.
When within a foot or two of the door, however, she
stopped, as if arrested by some irresistible force. Then she
turned, and her face was shown in the clear burst of
moonlight and by the lamp, which had now no quiver
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from Van Helsing’s nerves. Never did I see such baffled
malice on a face, and never, I trust, shall such ever be seen
again by mortal eyes. The beautiful colour became livid,
the eyes seemed to throw out sparks of hell fire, the brows
were wrinkled as though the folds of flesh were the coils
of Medusa’s snakes, and the lovely, blood-stained mouth
grew to an open square, as in the passion masks of the
Greeks and Japanese. If ever a face meant death, if looks
could kill, we saw it at that moment.
And so for full half a minute, which seemed an
eternity, she remained between the lifted crucifix and the
sacred closing of her means of entry.
Van Helsing broke the silence by asking Arthur,
‘Answer me, oh my friend! Am I to proceed in my work?’
‘Do as you will, friend. Do as you will. There can be
no horror like this ever any more.’ And he groaned in
spirit.
Quincey and I simultaneously moved towards him, and
took his arms. We could hear the click of the closing
lantern as Van Helsing held it down. Coming close to the
tomb, he began to remove from the chinks some of the
sacred emblem which he had placed there. We all looked
on with horrified amazement as we saw, when he stood
back, the woman, with a corporeal body as real at that
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moment as our own, pass through the interstice where
scarce a knife blade could have gone. We all felt a glad
sense of relief when we saw the Professor calmly restoring
the strings of putty to the edges of the door.
When this was done, he lifted the child and said,
‘Come now, my friends. We can do no more till
tomorrow. There is a funeral at noon, so here we shall all
come before long after that. The friends of the dead will
all be gone by two, and when the sexton locks the gate we
shall remain. Then there is more to do, but not like this of
tonight. As for this little one, he is not much harmed, and
by tomorrow night he shall be well. We shall leave him
where the police will find him, as on the other night, and
then to home.’
Coming close to Arthur, he said, ‘My friend Arthur,
you have had a sore trial, but after, when you look back,
you will see how it was necessary. You are now in the
bitter waters, my child. By this time tomorrow you will,
please God, have passed them, and have drunk of the
sweet waters. So do not mourn over-much. Till then I
shall not ask you to forgive me.’
Arthur and Quincey came home with me, and we tried
to cheer each other on the way. We had left behind the
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child in safety, and were tired. So we all slept with more
or less reality of sleep.
29 September, night.—A little before twelve o’clock
we three, Arthur, Quincey Morris, and myself, called for
the Professor. It was odd to notice that by common
consent we had all put on black clothes. Of course, Arthur
wore black, for he was in deep mourning, but the rest of
us wore it by instinct. We got to the graveyard by halfpast
one, and strolled about, keeping out of official
observation, so that when the gravediggers had completed
their task and the sexton under the belief that every one
had gone, had locked the gate, we had the place all to
ourselves. Van Helsing, instead of his little black bag, had
with him a long leather one, something like a cricketing
bag. It was manifestly of fair weight.
When we were alone and had heard the last of the
footsteps die out up the road, we silently, and as if by
ordered intention, followed the Professor to the tomb. He
unlocked the door, and we entered, closing it behind us.
Then he took from his bag the lantern, which he lit, and
also two wax candles, which, when lighted, he stuck by
melting their own ends, on other coffins, so that they
might give light sufficient to work by. When he again
lifted the lid off Lucy’s coffin we all looked, Arthur
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trembling like an aspen, and saw that the corpse lay there
in all its death beauty. But there was no love in my own
heart, nothing but loathing for the foul Thing which had
taken Lucy’s shape without her soul. I could see even
Arthur’s face grow hard as he looked. Presently he said to
Van Helsing, ‘Is this really Lucy’s body, or only a demon
in her shape?’
‘It is her body, and yet not it. But wait a while, and
you shall see her as she was, and is.’
She seemed like a nightmare of Lucy as she lay there,
the pointed teeth, the blood stained, voluptuous mouth,
which made one shudder to see, the whole carnal and
unspirited appearance, seeming like a devilish mockery of
Lucy’s sweet purity. Van Helsing, with his usual
methodicalness, began taking the various contents from his
bag and placing them ready for use. First he took out a
soldering iron and some plumbing solder, and then small
oil lamp, which gave out, when lit in a corner of the
tomb, gas which burned at a fierce heat with a blue flame,
then his operating knives, which he placed to hand, and
last a round wooden stake, some two and a half or three
inches thick and about three feet long. One end of it was
hardened by charring in the fire, and was sharpened to a
fine point. With this stake came a heavy hammer, such as
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in households is used in the coal cellar for breaking the
lumps. To me, a doctor’s preparations for work of any
kind are stimulating and bracing, but the effect of these
things on both Arthur and Quincey was to cause them a
sort of consternation. They both, however, kept their
courage, and remained silent and quiet.
When all was ready, Van Helsing said, ‘Before we do
anything, let me tell you this. It is out of the lore and
experience of the ancients and of all those who have
studied the powers of the UnDead. When they become
such, there comes with the change the curse of
immortality. They cannot die, but must go on age after
age adding new victims and multiplying the evils of the
world. For all that die from the preying of the Undead
become themselves Undead, and prey on their kind. And
so the circle goes on ever widening, like as the ripples
from a stone thrown in the water. Friend Arthur, if you
had met that kiss which you know of before poor Lucy
die, or again, last night when you open your arms to her,
you would in time, when you had died, have become
nosferatu, as they call it in Eastern Europe, and would for
all time make more of those Un-Deads that so have filled
us with horror. The career of this so unhappy dear lady is
but just begun. Those children whose blood she sucked
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are not as yet so much the worse, but if she lives on,
UnDead, more and more they lose their blood and by her
power over them they come to her, and so she draw their
blood with that so wicked mouth. But if she die in truth,
then all cease. The tiny wounds of the throats disappear,
and they go back to their play unknowing ever of what
has been. But of the most blessed of all, when this now
UnDead be made to rest as true dead, then the soul of the
poor lady whom we love shall again be free. Instead of
working wickedness by night and growing more debased
in the assimilating of it by day, she shall take her place
with the other Angels. So that, my friend, it will be a
blessed hand for her that shall strike the blow that sets her
free. To this I am willing, but is there none amongst us
who has a better right? Will it be no joy to think of
hereafter in the silence of the night when sleep is not, ‘It
was my hand that sent her to the stars. It was the hand of
him that loved her best, the hand that of all she would
herself have chosen, had it been to her to choose?’ Tell me
if there be such a one amongst us?’
We all looked at Arthur. He saw too, what we all did,
the infinite kindness which suggested that his should be
the hand which would restore Lucy to us as a holy, and
not an unholy, memory. He stepped forward and said
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bravely, though his hand trembled, and his face was as pale
as snow, ‘My true friend, from the bottom of my broken
heart I thank you. Tell me what I am to do, and I shall not
falter!’
Van Helsing laid a hand on his shoulder, and said,
‘Brave lad! A moment’s courage, and it is done. This stake
must be driven through her. It well be a fearful ordeal, be
not deceived in that, but it will be only a short time, and
you will then rejoice more than your pain was great. From
this grim tomb you will emerge as though you tread on
air. But you must not falter when once you have begun.
Only think that we, your true friends, are round you, and
that we pray for you all the time.’
‘Go on,’ said Arthur hoarsely. ‘Tell me what I am to
do.’
‘Take this stake in your left hand, ready to place to the
point over the heart, and the hammer in your right. Then
when we begin our prayer for the dead, I shall read him, I
have here the book, and the others shall follow, strike in
God’s name, that so all may be well with the dead that we
love and that the UnDead pass away.’
Arthur took the stake and the hammer, and when once
his mind was set on action his hands never trembled nor
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even quivered. Van Helsing opened his missal and began
to read, and Quincey and I followed as well as we could.
Arthur placed the point over the heart, and as I looked
I could see its dint in the white flesh. Then he struck with
all his might.
The thing in the coffin writhed, and a hideous, bloodcurdling
screech came from the opened red lips. The body
shook and quivered and twisted in wild contortions. The
sharp white teeth champed together till the lips were cut,
and the mouth was smeared with a crimson foam. But
Arthur never faltered. He looked like a figure of Thor as
his untrembling arm rose and fell, driving deeper and
deeper the mercy-bearing stake, whilst the blood from the
pierced heart welled and spurted up around it. His face
was set, and high duty seemed to shine through it. The
sight of it gave us courage so that our voices seemed to
ring through the little vault.
And then the writhing and quivering of the body
became less, and the teeth seemed to champ, and the face
to quiver. Finally it lay still. The terrible task was over.
The hammer fell from Arthur’s hand. He reeled and
would have fallen had we not caught him. The great drops
of sweat sprang from his forehead, and his breath came in
broken gasps. It had indeed been an awful strain on him,
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and had he not been forced to his task by more than
human considerations he could never have gone through
with it. For a few minutes we were so taken up with him
that we did not look towards the coffin. When we did,
however, a murmur of startled surprise ran from one to
the other of us. We gazed so eagerly that Arthur rose, for
he had been seated on the ground, and came and looked
too, and then a glad strange light broke over his face and
dispelled altogether the gloom of horror that lay upon it.
There, in the coffin lay no longer the foul Thing that
we had so dreaded and grown to hate that the work of her
destruction was yielded as a privilege to the one best
entitled to it, but Lucy as we had seen her in life, with her
face of unequalled sweetness and purity. True that there
were there, as we had seen them in life, the traces of care
and pain and waste. But these were all dear to us, for they
marked her truth to what we knew. One and all we felt
that the holy calm that lay like sunshine over the wasted
face and form was only an earthly token and symbol of the
calm that was to reign for ever.
Van Helsing came and laid his hand on Arthur’s
shoulder, and said to him, ‘And now, Arthur my friend,
dear lad, am I not forgiven?’
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The reaction of the terrible strain came as he took the
old man’s hand in his, and raising it to his lips, pressed it,
and said, ‘Forgiven! God bless you that you have given my
dear one her soul again, and me peace.’ He put his hands
on the Professor’s shoulder, and laying his head on his
breast, cried for a while silently, whilst we stood
unmoving.
When he raised his head Van Helsing said to him, ‘And
now, my child, you may kiss her. Kiss her dead lips if you
will, as she would have you to, if for her to choose. For
she is not a grinning devil now, not any more a foul
Thing for all eternity. No longer she is the devil’s
UnDead. She is God’s true dead, whose soul is with Him!’
Arthur bent and kissed her, and then we sent him and
Quincey out of the tomb. The Professor and I sawed the
top off the stake, leaving the point of it in the body. Then
we cut off the head and filled the mouth with garlic. We
soldered up the leaden coffin, screwed on the coffin lid,
and gathering up our belongings, came away. When the
Professor locked the door he gave the key to Arthur.
Outside the air was sweet, the sun shone, and the birds
sang, and it seemed as if all nature were tuned to a
different pitch. There was gladness and mirth and peace
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everywhere, for we were at rest ourselves on one account,
and we were glad, though it was with a tempered joy.
Before we moved away Van Helsing said, ‘Now, my
friends, one step of our work is done, one the most
harrowing to ourselves. But there remains a greater task,
to find out the author of all this or sorrow and to stamp
him out. I have clues which we can follow, but it is a long
task, and a difficult one, and there is danger in it, and pain.
Shall you not all help me? We have learned to believe, all
of us, is it not so? And since so, do we not see our duty?
Yes! And do we not promise to go on to the bitter end?’
Each in turn, we took his hand, and the promise was
made. Then said the Professor as we moved off, ‘Two
nights hence you shall meet with me and dine together at
seven of the clock with friend John. I shall entreat two
others, two that you know not as yet, and I shall be ready
to all our work show and our plans unfold. Friend John,
you come with me home, for I have much to consult you
about, and you can help me. Tonight I leave for
Amsterdam, but shall return tomorrow night. And then
begins our great quest. But first I shall have much to say,
so that you may know what to do and to dread. Then our
promise shall be made to each other anew. For there is a
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terrible task before us, and once our feet are on the
ploughshare we must not draw back.’
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Chapter 17
DR. SEWARD’S DIARY-cont.
When we arrived at the Berkely Hotel, Van Helsing
found a telegram waiting for him.
‘Am coming up by train. Jonathan at Whitby.
Important news. Mina Harker.’
The Professor was delighted. ‘Ah, that wonderful
Madam Mina,’ he said, ‘pearl among women! She arrive,
but I cannot stay. She must go to your house, friend John.
You must meet her at the station. Telegraph her en route
so that she may be prepared.’
When the wire was dispatched he had a cup of tea.
Over it he told me of a diary kept by Jonathan Harker
when abroad, and gave me a typewritten copy of it, as also
of Mrs. Harker’s diary at Whitby. ‘Take these,’ he said,
‘and study them well. When I have returned you will be
master of all the facts, and we can then better enter on our
inquisition. Keep them safe, for there is in them much of
treasure. You will need all your faith, even you who have
had such an experience as that of today. What is here
told,’ he laid his hand heavily and gravely on the packet of
papers as he spoke, ‘may be the beginning of the end to
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you and me and many another, or it may sound the knell
of the UnDead who walk the earth. Read all, I pray you,
with the open mind, and if you can add in any way to the
story here told do so, for it is all important. You have kept
a diary of all these so strange things, is it not so? Yes! Then
we shall go through all these together when we meet.’ He
then made ready for his departure and shortly drove off to
Liverpool Street. I took my way to Paddington, where I
arrived about fifteen minutes before the train came in.
The crowd melted away, after the bustling fashion
common to arrival platforms, and I was beginning to feel
uneasy, lest I might miss my guest, when a sweet-faced,
dainty looking girl stepped up to me, and after a quick
glance said, ‘Dr. Seward, is it not?’
‘And you are Mrs. Harker!’ I answered at once,
whereupon she held out her hand.
‘I knew you from the description of poor dear Lucy,
but …’ She stopped suddenly, and a quick blush
overspread her face.
The blush that rose to my own cheeks somehow set us
both at ease, for it was a tacit answer to her own. I got her
luggage, which included a typewriter, and we took the
Underground to Fenchurch Street, after I had sent a wire
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to my housekeeper to have a sitting room and a bedroom
prepared at once for Mrs. Harker.
In due time we arrived. She knew, of course, that the
place was a lunatic asylum, but I could see that she was
unable to repress a shudder when we entered.
She told me that, if she might, she would come
presently to my study, as she had much to say. So here I
am finishing my entry in my phonograph diary whilst I
await her. As yet I have not had the chance of looking at
the papers which Van Helsing left with me, though they
lie open before me. I must get her interested in something,
so that I may have an opportunity of reading them. She
does not know how precious time is, or what a task we
have in hand. I must be careful not to frighten her. Here
she is!
MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL
29 September.—After I had tidied myself, I went down
to Dr. Seward’s study. At the door I paused a moment, for
I thought I heard him talking with some one. As,
however, he had pressed me to be quick, I knocked at the
door, and on his calling out, ‘Come in,’ I entered.
To my intense surprise, there was no one with him. He
was quite alone, and on the table opposite him was what I
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knew at once from the description to be a phonograph. I
had never seen one, and was much interested.
‘I hope I did not keep you waiting,’ I said, ‘but I stayed
at the door as I heard you talking, and thought there was
someone with you.’
‘Oh,’ he replied with a smile, ‘I was only entering my
diary.’
‘Your diary?’ I asked him in surprise.
‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘I keep it in this.’ As he spoke he
laid his hand on the phonograph. I felt quite excited over
it, and blurted out, ‘Why, this beats even shorthand! May I
hear it say something?’
‘Certainly,’ he replied with alacrity, and stood up to
put it in train for speaking. Then he paused, and a
troubled look overspread his face.
‘The fact is,’ he began awkwardly, ‘I only keep my
diary in it, and as it is entirely, almost entirely, about my
cases it may be awkward, that is, I mean …’ He stopped,
and I tried to help him out of his embarrassment.
‘You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me
hear how she died, for all that I know of her, I shall be
very grateful. She was very, very dear to me.’
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To my surprise, he answered, with a horrorstruck look
in his face, ‘Tell you of her death? Not for the wide
world!’
‘Why not?’ I asked, for some grave, terrible feeling was
coming over me.
Again he paused, and I could see that he was trying to
invent an excuse. At length, he stammered out, ‘You see,
I do not know how to pick out any particular part of the
diary.’
Even while he was speaking an idea dawned upon him,
and he said with unconscious simplicity, in a different
voice, and with the naivete of a child, ‘that’s quite true,
upon my honour. Honest Indian!’
I could not but smile, at which he grimaced. ‘I gave
myself away that time!’ he said. ‘But do you know that,
although I have kept the diary for months past, it never
once struck me how I was going to find any particular part
of it in case I wanted to look it up?’
By this time my mind was made up that the diary of a
doctor who attended Lucy might have something to add
to the sum of our knowledge of that terrible Being, and I
said boldly, ‘Then, Dr. Seward, you had better let me
copy it out for you on my typewriter.’
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He grew to a positively deathly pallor as he said, ‘No!
No! No! For all the world. I wouldn’t let you know that
terrible story.!’
Then it was terrible. My intuition was right! For a
moment, I thought, and as my eyes ranged the room,
unconsciously looking for something or some opportunity
to aid me, they lit on a great batch of typewriting on the
table. His eyes caught the look in mine, and without his
thinking, followed their direction. As they saw the parcel
he realized my meaning.
‘You do not know me,’ I said. ‘When you have read
those papers, my own diary and my husband’s also, which
I have typed, you will know me better. I have not faltered
in giving every thought of my own heart in this cause.
But, of course, you do not know me, yet, and I must not
expect you to trust me so far.’
He is certainly a man of noble nature. Poor dear Lucy
was right about him. He stood up and opened a large
drawer, in which were arranged in order a number of
hollow cylinders of metal covered with dark wax, and
said,
‘You are quite right. I did not trust you because I did
not know you. But I know you now, and let me say that I
should have known you long ago. I know that Lucy told
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you of me. She told me of you too. May I make the only
atonement in my power? Take the cylinders and hear
them. The first half-dozen of them are personal to me, and
they will not horrify you. Then you will know me better.
Dinner will by then be ready. In the meantime I shall read
over some of these documents, and shall be better able to
understand certain things.’
He carried the phonograph himself up to my sitting
room and adjusted it for me. Now I shall learn something
pleasant, I am sure. For it will tell me the other side of a
true love episode of which I know one side already.
DR. SEWARD’S DIARY
29 September.—I was so absorbed in that wonderful
diary of Jonathan Harker and that other of his wife that I
let the time run on without thinking. Mrs. Harker was not
down when the maid came to announce dinner, so I said,
‘She is possibly tired. Let dinner wait an hour,’ and I went
on with my work. I had just finished Mrs. Harker’s diary,
when she came in. She looked sweetly pretty, but very
sad, and her eyes were flushed with crying. This somehow
moved me much. Of late I have had cause for tears, God
knows! But the relief of them was denied me, and now
the sight of those sweet eyes, brightened by recent tears,
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went straight to my heart. So I said as gently as I could, ‘I
greatly fear I have distressed you.’
‘Oh, no, not distressed me,’ she replied. ‘But I have
been more touched than I can say by your grief. That is a
wonderful machine, but it is cruelly true. It told me, in its
very tones, the anguish of your heart. It was like a soul
crying out to Almighty God. No one must hear them
spoken ever again! See, I have tried to be useful. I have
copied out the words on my typewriter, and none other
need now hear your heart beat, as I did.’
‘No one need ever know, shall ever know,’ I said in a
low voice. She laid her hand on mine and said very
gravely, ‘Ah, but they must!’
‘Must! but why?’ I asked.
‘Because it is a part of the terrible story, a part of poor
Lucy’s death and all that led to it. Because in the struggle
which we have before us to rid the earth of this terrible
monster we must have all the knowledge and all the help
which we can get. I think that the cylinders which you
gave me contained more than you intended me to know.
But I can see that there are in your record many lights to
this dark mystery. You will let me help, will you not? I
know all up to a certain point, and I see already, though
your diary only took me to 7 September, how poor Lucy
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was beset, and how her terrible doom was being wrought
out. Jonathan and I have been working day and night
since Professor Van Helsing saw us. He is gone to Whitby
to get more information, and he will be here tomorrow to
help us. We need have no secrets amongst us. Working
together and with absolute trust, we can surely be stronger
than if some of us were in the dark.’
She looked at me so appealingly, and at the same time
manifested such courage and resolution in her bearing,
that I gave in at once to her wishes. ‘You shall,’ I said, ‘do
as you like in the matter. God forgive me if I do wrong!
There are terrible things yet to learn of. But if you have so
far traveled on the road to poor Lucy’s death, you will not
be content, I know, to remain in the dark. Nay, the end,
the very end, may give you a gleam of peace. Come, there
is dinner. We must keep one another strong for what is
before us. We have a cruel and dreadful task. When you
have eaten you shall learn the rest, and I shall answer any
questions you ask, if there be anything which you do not
understand, though it was apparent to us who were
present.’
MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL
29 September.—After dinner I came with Dr. Seward
to his study. He brought back the phonograph from my
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room, and I took a chair, and arranged the phonograph so
that I could touch it without getting up, and showed me
how to stop it in case I should want to pause. Then he
very thoughtfully took a chair, with his back to me, so
that I might be as free as possible, and began to read. I put
the forked metal to my ears and listened.
When the terrible story of Lucy’s death, and all that
followed, was done, I lay back in my chair powerless.
Fortunately I am not of a fainting disposition. When Dr.
Seward saw me he jumped up with a horrified
exclamation, and hurriedly taking a case bottle from the
cupboard, gave me some brandy, which in a few minutes
somewhat restored me. My brain was all in a whirl, and
only that there came through all the multitude of horrors,
the holy ray of light that my dear Lucy was at last at peace,
I do not think I could have borne it without making a
scene. It is all so wild and mysterious, and strange that if I
had not known Jonathan’s experience in Transylvania I
could not have believed. As it was, I didn’t know what to
believe, and so got out of my difficulty by attending to
something else. I took the cover off my typewriter, and
said to Dr. Seward,
‘Let me write this all out now. We must be ready for
Dr. Van Helsing when he comes. I have sent a telegram to
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Jonathan to come on here when he arrives in London
from Whitby. In this matter dates are everything, and I
think that if we get all of our material ready, and have
every item put in chronological order, we shall have done
much.
‘You tell me that Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris are
coming too. Let us be able to tell them when they come.’
He accordingly set the phonograph at a slow pace, and
I began to typewrite from the beginning of the
seventeenth cylinder. I used manifold, and so took three
copies of the diary, just as I had done with the rest. It was
late when I got through, but Dr. Seward went about his
work of going his round of the patients. When he had
finished he came back and sat near me, reading, so that I
did not feel too lonely whilst I worked. How good and
thoughtful he is. The world seems full of good men, even
if there are monsters in it.
Before I left him I remembered what Jonathan put in
his diary of the Professor’s perturbation at reading
something in an evening paper at the station at Exeter, so,
seeing that Dr. Seward keeps his newspapers, I borrowed
the files of ‘The Westminster Gazette’ and ‘The Pall Mall
Gazette’ and took them to my room. I remember how
much the ‘Dailygraph’ and ‘The Whitby Gazette’, of
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which I had made cuttings, had helped us to understand
the terrible events at Whitby when Count Dracula landed,
so I shall look through the evening papers since then, and
perhaps I shall get some new light. I am not sleepy, and
the work will help to keep me quiet.
DR. SEWARD’S DIARY
30 September.—Mr. Harker arrived at nine o’clock.
He got his wife’s wire just before starting. He is
uncommonly clever, if one can judge from his face, and
full of energy. If this journal be true, and judging by one’s
own wonderful experiences, it must be, he is also a man of
great nerve. That going down to the vault a second time
was a remarkable piece of daring. After reading his
account of it I was prepared to meet a good specimen of
manhood, but hardly the quiet, businesslike gentleman
who came here today.
LATER.—After lunch Harker and his wife went back
to their own room, and as I passed a while ago I heard the
click of the typewriter. They are hard at it. Mrs. Harker
says that knitting together in chronological order every
scrap of evidence they have. Harker has got the letters
between the consignee of the boxes at Whitby and the
carriers in London who took charge of them. He is now
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reading his wife’s transcript of my diary. I wonder what
they make out of it. Here it is …
Strange that it never struck me that the very next house
might be the Count’s hiding place! Goodness knows that
we had enough clues from the conduct of the patient
Renfield! The bundle of letters relating to the purchase of
the house were with the transcript. Oh, if we had only
had them earlier we might have saved poor Lucy! Stop!
That way madness lies! Harker has gone back, and is again
collecting material. He says that by dinner time they will
be able to show a whole connected narrative. He thinks
that in the meantime I should see Renfield, as hitherto he
has been a sort of index to the coming and going of the
Count. I hardly see this yet, but when I get at the dates I
suppose I shall. What a good thing that Mrs. Harker put
my cylinders into type! We never could have found the
dates otherwise.
I found Renfield sitting placidly in his room with his
hands folded, smiling benignly. At the moment he seemed
as sane as any one I ever saw. I sat down and talked with
him on a lot of subjects, all of which he treated naturally.
He then, of his own accord, spoke of going home, a
subject he has never mentioned to my knowledge during
his sojourn here. In fact, he spoke quite confidently of
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getting his discharge at once. I believe that, had I not had
the chat with Harker and read the letters and the dates of
his outbursts, I should have been prepared to sign for him
after a brief time of observation. As it is, I am darkly
suspicious. All those out-breaks were in some way linked
with the proximity of the Count. What then does this
absolute content mean? Can it be that his instinct is
satisfied as to the vampire’s ultimate triumph? Stay. He is
himself zoophagous, and in his wild ravings outside the
chapel door of the deserted house he always spoke of
‘master’. This all seems confirmation of our idea.
However, after a while I came away. My friend is just a
little too sane at present to make it safe to probe him too
deep with questions. He might begin to think, and then
… So I came away. I mistrust these quiet moods of of his,
so I have given the attendant a hint to look closely after
him, and to have a strait waistcoat ready in case of need.
JOHNATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL
29 September, in train to London.—When I received
Mr. Billington’s courteous message that he would give me
any information in his power I thought it best to go down
to Whitby and make, on the spot, such inquiries as I
wanted. It was now my object to trace that horrid cargo of
the Count’s to its place in London. Later, we may be able
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to deal with it. Billington junior, a nice lad, met me at the
station, and brought me to his father’s house, where they
had decided that I must spend the night. They are
hospitable, with true Yorkshire hospitality, give a guest
everything and leave him to do as he likes. They all knew
that I was busy, and that my stay was short, and Mr.
Billington had ready in his office all the papers concerning
the consignment of boxes. It gave me almost a turn to see
again one of the letters which I had seen on the Count’s
table before I knew of his diabolical plans. Everything had
been carefully thought out, and done systematically and
with precision. He seemed to have been prepared for
every obstacle which might be placed by accident in the
way of his intentions being carried out. To use an
Americanism, he had ‘taken no chances’, and the absolute
accuracy with which his instructions were fulfilled was
simply the logical result of his care. I saw the invoice, and
took note of it.‘Fifty cases of common earth, to be used
for experimental purposes’. Also the copy of the letter to
Carter Paterson, and their reply. Of both these I got
copies. This was all the information Mr. Billington could
give me, so I went down to the port and saw the
coastguards, the Customs Officers and the harbour master,
who kindly put me in communication with the men who
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had actually received the boxes. Their tally was exact with
the list, and they had nothing to add to the simple
description ‘fifty cases of common earth’, except that the
boxes were ‘main and mortal heavy’, and that shifting
them was dry work. One of them added that it was hard
lines that there wasn’t any gentleman ‘such like as like
yourself, squire’, to show some sort of appreciation of
their efforts in a liquid form. Another put in a rider that
the thirst then generated was such that even the time
which had elapsed had not completely allayed it. Needless
to add, I took care before leaving to lift, forever and
adequately, this source of reproach.
30 September.—The station master was good enough
to give me a line to his old companion the station master
at King’s Cross, so that when I arrived there in the
morning I was able to ask him about the arrival of the
boxes. He, too put me at once in communication with the
proper officials, and I saw that their tally was correct with
the original invoice. The opportunities of acquiring an
abnormal thirst had been here limited. A noble use of
them had, however, been made, and again I was
compelled to deal with the result in ex post facto manner.
From thence I went to Carter Paterson’s central office,
where I met with the utmost courtesy. They looked up
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the transaction in their day book and letter book, and at
once telephoned to their King’s Cross office for more
details. By good fortune, the men who did the teaming
were waiting for work, and the official at once sent them
over, sending also by one of them the way-bill and all the
papers connected with the delivery of the boxes at Carfax.
Here again I found the tally agreeing exactly. The carriers’
men were able to supplement the paucity of the written
words with a few more details. These were, I shortly
found, connected almost solely with the dusty nature of
the job, and the consequent thirst engendered in the
operators. On my affording an opportunity, through the
medium of the currency of the realm, of the allaying, at a
later period, this beneficial evil, one of the men remarked,
‘That ‘ere ‘ouse, guv’nor, is the rummiest I ever was in.
Blyme! But it ain’t been touched sence a hundred years.
There was dust that thick in the place that you might have
slep’ on it without ‘urtin’ of yer bones. An’ the place was
that neglected that yer might ‘ave smelled ole Jerusalem in
it. But the old chapel, that took the cike, that did! Me and
my mate, we thort we wouldn’t never git out quick
enough. Lor’, I wouldn’t take less nor a quid a moment to
stay there arter dark.’
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Having been in the house, I could well believe him,
but if he knew what I know, he would, I think have raised
his terms.
Of one thing I am now satisfied. That all those boxes
which arrived at Whitby from Varna in the Demeter were
safely deposited in the old chapel at Carfax. There should
be fifty of them there, unless any have since been
removed, as from Dr. Seward’s diary I fear.
Later.—Mina and I have worked all day, and we have
put all the papers into order.
MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL
30 September.—I am so glad that I hardly know how
to contain myself. It is, I suppose, the reaction from the
haunting fear which I have had, that this terrible affair and
the reopening of his old wound might act detrimentally on
Jonathan. I saw him leave for Whitby with as brave a face
as could, but I was sick with apprehension. The effort has,
however, done him good. He was never so resolute, never
so strong, never so full of volcanic energy, as at present. It
is just as that dear, good Professor Van Helsing said, he is
true grit, and he improves under strain that would kill a
weaker nature. He came back full of life and hope and
determination. We have got everything in order for
tonight. I feel myself quite wild with excitement. I
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suppose one ought to pity anything so hunted as the
Count. That is just it. This thing is not human, not even a
beast. To read Dr. Seward’s account of poor Lucy’s death,
and what followed, is enough to dry up the springs of pity
in one’s heart.
Later.—Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris arrived earlier
than we expected. Dr. Seward was out on business, and
had taken Jonathan with him, so I had to see them. It was
to me a painful meeting, for it brought back all poor dear
Lucy’s hopes of only a few months ago. Of
course they had heard Lucy speak of me, and it seemed
that Dr. Van Helsing, too, had been quite ‘blowing my
trumpet’, as Mr. Morris expressed it. Poor fellows, neither
of them is aware that I know all about the proposals they
made to Lucy. They did not quite know what to say or
do, as they were ignorant of the amount of my
knowledge. So they had to keep on neutral subjects.
However, I thought the matter over, and came to the
conclusion that the best thing I could do would be to post
them on affairs right up to date. I knew from Dr. Seward’s
diary that they had been at Lucy’s death, her real death,
and that I need not fear to betray any secret before the
time. So I told them, as well as I could, that I had read all
the papers and diaries, and that my husband and I, having
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typewritten them, had just finished putting them in order.
I gave them each a copy to read in the library. When Lord
Godalming got his and turned it over, it does make a
pretty good pile, he said, ‘Did you write all this, Mrs.
Harker?’
I nodded, and he went on.
‘I don’t quite see the drift of it, but you people are all
so good and kind, and have been working so earnestly and
so energetically, that all I can do is to accept your ideas
blindfold and try to help you. I have had one lesson
already in accepting facts that should make a man humble
to the last hour of his life. Besides, I know you loved my
Lucy …’
Here he turned away and covered his face with his
hands. I could hear the tears in his voice. Mr. Morris, with
instinctive delicacy, just laid a hand for a moment on his
shoulder, and then walked quietly out of the room. I
suppose there is something in a woman’s nature that
makes a man free to break down before her and express
his feelings on the tender or emotional side without
feeling it derogatory to his manhood. For when Lord
Godalming found himself alone with me he sat down on
the sofa and gave way utterly and openly. I sat down
beside him and took his hand. I hope he didn’t think it
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forward of me, and that if he ever thinks of it afterwards
he never will have such a thought. There I wrong him. I
know he never will. He is too true a gentleman. I said to
him, for I could see that his heart was breaking, ‘I loved
dear Lucy, and I know what she was to you, and what you
were to her. She and I were like sisters, and now she is
gone, will you not let me be like a sister to you in your
trouble? I know what sorrows you have had, though I
cannot measure the depth of them. If sympathy and pity
can help in your affliction, won’t you let me be of some
little service, for Lucy’s sake?’
In an instant the poor dear fellow was overwhelmed
with grief. It seemed to me that all that he had of late been
suffering in silence found a vent at once. He grew quite
hysterical, and raising his open hands, beat his palms
together in a perfect agony of grief. He stood up and then
sat down again, and the tears rained down his cheeks. I felt
an infinite pity for him, and opened my arms
unthinkingly. With a sob he laid his head on my shoulder
and cried like a wearied child, whilst he shook with
emotion.
We women have something of the mother in us that
makes us rise above smaller matters when the mother spirit
is invoked. I felt this big sorrowing man’s head resting on
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me, as though it were that of a baby that some day may lie
on my bosom, and I stroked his hair as though he were
my own child. I never thought at the time how strange it
all was.
After a little bit his sobs ceased, and he raised himself
with an apology, though he made no disguise of his
emotion. He told me that for days and nights past, weary
days and sleepless nights, he had been unable to speak with
any one, as a man must speak in his time of sorrow. There
was no woman whose sympathy could be given to him, or
with whom, owing to the terrible circumstance with
which his sorrow was surrounded, he could speak freely.
‘I know now how I suffered,’ he said, as he dried his
eyes, ‘but I do not know even yet, and none other can
ever know, how much your sweet sympathy has been to
me today. I shall know better in time, and believe me that,
though I am not ungrateful now, my gratitude will grow
with my understanding. You will let me be like a brother,
will you not, for all our lives, for dear Lucy’s sake?’
‘For dear Lucy’s sake,’ I said as we clasped hands. ‘Ay,
and for your own sake,’ he added, ‘for if a man’s esteem
and gratitude are ever worth the winning, you have won
mine today. If ever the future should bring to you a time
when you need a man’s help, believe me, you will not call
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in vain. God grant that no such time may ever come to
you to break the sunshine of your life, but if it should ever
come, promise me that you will let me know.’
He was so earnest, and his sorrow was so fresh, that I
felt it would comfort him, so I said, ‘I promise.’
As I came along the corridor I say Mr. Morris looking
out of a window. He turned as he heard my footsteps.
‘How is Art?’ he said. Then noticing my red eyes, he went
on, ‘Ah, I see you have been comforting him. Poor old
fellow! He needs it. No one but a woman can help a man
when he is in trouble of the heart, and he had no one to
comfort him.’
He bore his own trouble so bravely that my heart bled
for him. I saw the manuscript in his hand, and I knew that
when he read it he would realize how much I knew, so I
said to him, ‘I wish I could comfort all who suffer from
the heart. Will you let me be your friend, and will you
come to me for comfort if you need it? You will know
later why I speak.’
He saw that I was in earnest, and stooping, took my
hand, and raising it to his lips, kissed it. It seemed but poor
comfort to so brave and unselfish a soul, and impulsively I
bent over and kissed him. The tears rose in his eyes, and
there was a momentary choking in his throat. He said
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quite calmly, ‘Little girl, you will never forget that true
hearted kindness, so long as ever you live!’ Then he went
into the study to his friend.
‘Little girl!’ The very words he had used to Lucy, and,
oh, but he proved himself a friend.
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Chapter 18
DR. SEWARD’S DIARY
30 September.—I got home at five o’clock, and found
that Godalming and Morris had not only arrived, but had
already studied the transcript of the various diaries and
letters which Harker had not yet returned from his visit to
the carriers’ men, of whom Dr. Hennessey had written to
me. Mrs. Harker gave us a cup of tea, and I can honestly
say that, for the first time since I have lived in it, this old
house seemed like home. When we had finished, Mrs.
Harker said,
‘Dr. Seward, may I ask a favour? I want to see your
patient, Mr. Renfield. Do let me see him. What you have
said of him in your diary interests me so much!’
She looked so appealing and so pretty that I could not
refuse her, and there was no possible reason why I should,
so I took her with me. When I went into the room, I told
the man that a lady would like to see him, to which he
simply answered, ‘Why?’
‘She is going through the house, and wants to see every
one in it,’ I answered.
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‘Oh, very well,’ he said, ‘let her come in, by all means,
but just wait a minute till I tidy up the place.’
His method of tidying was peculiar, he simply
swallowed all the flies and spiders in the boxes before I
could stop him. It was quite evident that he feared, or was
jealous of, some interference. When he had got through
his disgusting task, he said cheerfully, ‘Let the lady come
in,’ and sat down on the edge of his bed with his head
down, but with his eyelids raised so that he could see her
as she entered. For a moment I thought that he might
have some homicidal intent. I remembered how quiet he
had been just before he attacked me in my own study, and
I took care to stand where I could seize him at once if he
attempted to make a spring at her.
She came into the room with an easy gracefulness
which would at once command the respect of any lunatic,
for easiness is one of the qualities mad people most respect.
She walked over to him, smiling pleasantly, and held out
her hand.
‘Good evening, Mr. Renfield,’ said she. ‘You see, I
know you, for Dr. Seward has told me of you.’ He made
no immediate reply, but eyed her all over intently with a
set frown on his face. This look gave way to one of
wonder, which merged in doubt, then to my intense
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astonishment he said, ‘You’re not the girl the doctor
wanted to marry, are you? You can’t be, you know, for
she’s dead.’
Mrs. Harker smiled sweetly as she replied, ‘Oh no! I
have a husband of my own, to whom I was married before
I ever saw Dr. Seward, or he me. I am Mrs. Harker.’
‘Then what are you doing here?’
‘My husband and I are staying on a visit with Dr.
Seward.’
‘Then don’t stay.’
‘But why not?’
I thought that this style of conversation might not be
pleasant to Mrs. Harker, any more than it was to me, so I
joined in, ‘How did you know I wanted to marry
anyone?’
His reply was simply contemptuous, given in a pause in
which he turned his eyes from Mrs. Harker to me,
instantly turning them back again, ‘What an asinine
question!’
‘I don’t see that at all, Mr. Renfield,’ said Mrs. Harker,
at once championing me.
He replied to her with as much courtesy and respect as
he had shown contempt to me, ‘You will, of course,
understand, Mrs. Harker, that when a man is so loved and
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honoured as our host is, everything regarding him is of
interest in our little community. Dr. Seward is loved not
only by his household and his friends, but even by his
patients, who, being some of them hardly in mental
equilibrium, are apt to distort causes and effects. Since I
myself have been an inmate of a lunatic asylum, I cannot
but notice that the sophistic tendencies of some of its
inmates lean towards the errors of non causa and ignoratio
elenche.’
I positively opened my eyes at this new development.
Here was my own pet lunatic, the most pronounced of his
type that I had ever met with, talking elemental
philosophy, and with the manner of a polished gentleman.
I wonder if it was Mrs. Harker’s presence which had
touched some chord in his memory. If this new phase was
spontaneous, or in any way due to her unconscious
influence, she must have some rare gift or power.
We continued to talk for some time, and seeing that he
was seemingly quite reasonable, she ventured, looking at
me questioningly as she began, to lead him to his favourite
topic. I was again astonished, for he addressed himself to
the question with the impartiality of the completest sanity.
He even took himself as an example when he mentioned
certain things.
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‘Why, I myself am an instance of a man who had a
strange belief. Indeed, it was no wonder that my friends
were alarmed, and insisted on my being put under control.
I used to fancy that life was a positive and perpetual entity,
and that by consuming a multitude of live things, no
matter how low in the scale of creation, one might
indefinitely prolong life. At times I held the belief so
strongly that I actually tried to take human life. The
doctor here will bear me out that on one occasion I tried
to kill him for the purpose of strengthening my vital
powers by the assimilation with my own body of his life
through the medium of his blood, relying of course, upon
the Scriptural phrase, ‘For the blood is the life.’ Though,
indeed, the vendor of a certain nostrum has vulgarized the
truism to the very point of contempt. Isn’t that true,
doctor?’
I nodded assent, for I was so amazed that I hardly knew
what to either think or say, it was hard to imagine that I
had seen him eat up his spiders and flies not five minutes
before. Looking at my watch, I saw that I should go to the
station to meet Van Helsing, so I told Mrs. Harker that it
was time to leave.
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She came at once, after saying pleasantly to Mr.
Renfield, ‘Goodbye, and I hope I may see you often,
under auspices pleasanter to yourself.’
To which, to my astonishment, he replied, ‘Goodbye,
my dear. I pray God I may never see your sweet face
again. May He bless and keep you!’
When I went to the station to meet Van Helsing I left
the boys behind me. Poor Art seemed more cheerful than
he has been since Lucy first took ill, and Quincey is more
like his own bright self than he has been for many a long
day.
Van Helsing stepped from the carriage with the eager
nimbleness of a boy. He saw me at once, and rushed up to
me, saying, ‘Ah, friend John, how goes all? Well? So! I
have been busy, for I come here to stay if need be. All
affairs are settled with me, and I have much to tell. Madam
Mina is with you? Yes. And her so fine husband? And
Arthur and my friend Quincey, they are with you, too?
Good!’
As I drove to the house I told him of what had passed,
and of how my own diary had come to be of some use
through Mrs. Harker’s suggestion, at which the Professor
interrupted me.
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‘Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina! She has man’s brain,
a brain that a man should have were he much gifted, and a
woman’s heart. The good God fashioned her for a
purpose, believe me, when He made that so good
combination. Friend John, up to now fortune has made
that woman of help to us, after tonight she must not have
to do with this so terrible affair. It is not good that she run
a risk so great. We men are determined, nay, are we not
pledged, to destroy this monster? But it is no part for a
woman. Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her
in so much and so many horrors and hereafter she may
suffer, both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from
her dreams. And, besides, she is young woman and not so
long married, there may be other things to think of some
time, if not now. You tell me she has wrote all, then she
must consult with us, but tomorrow she say goodbye to
this work, and we go alone.’
I agreed heartily with him, and then I told him what
we had found in his absence, that the house which
Dracula had bought was the very next one to my own. He
was amazed, and a great concern seemed to come on him.
‘Oh that we had known it before!’ he said, ‘for then we
might have reached him in time to save poor Lucy.
However, ‘the milk that is spilt cries not out afterwards,’as
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you say. We shall not think of that, but go on our way to
the end.’ Then he fell into a silence that lasted till we
entered my own gateway. Before we went to prepare for
dinner he said to Mrs. Harker, ‘I am told, Madam Mina,
by my friend John that you and your husband have put up
in exact order all things that have been, up to this
moment.’
‘Not up to this moment, Professor,’ she said
impulsively, ‘but up to this morning.’
‘But why not up to now? We have seen hitherto how
good light all the little things have made. We have told
our secrets, and yet no one who has told is the worse for
it.’
Mrs. Harker began to blush, and taking a paper from
her pockets, she said, ‘Dr. Van Helsing, will you read this,
and tell me if it must go in. It is my record of today. I too
have seen the need of putting down at present everything,
however trivial, but there is little in this except what is
personal. Must it go in?’
The Professor read it over gravely, and handed it back,
saying, ‘It need not go in if you do not wish it, but I pray
that it may. It can but make your husband love you the
more, and all us, your friends, more honour you, as well as
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more esteem and love.’ She took it back with another
blush and a bright smile.
And so now, up to this very hour, all the records we
have are complete and in order. The Professor took away
one copy to study after dinner, and before our meeting,
which is fixed for nine o’clock. The rest of us have already
read everything, so when we meet in the study we shall all
be informed as to facts, and can arrange our plan of battle
with this terrible and mysterious enemy.
MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL
30 September.—When we met in Dr. Seward’s study
two hours after dinner, which had been at six o’clock, we
unconsciously formed a sort of board or committee.
Professor Van Helsing took the head of the table, to which
Dr. Seward motioned him as he came into the room. He
made me sit next to him on his right, and asked me to act
as secretary. Jonathan sat next to me. Opposite us were
Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, and Mr. Morris, Lord
Godalming being next the Professor, and Dr. Seward in
the centre.
The Professor said, ‘I may, I suppose, take it that we
are all acquainted with the facts that are in these papers.’
We all expressed assent, and he went on, ‘Then it were, I
think, good that I tell you something of the kind of enemy
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with which we have to deal. I shall then make known to
you something of the history of this man, which has been
ascertained for me. So we then can discuss how we shall
act, and can take our measure according.
‘There are such beings as vampires, some of us have
evidence that they exist. Even had we not the proof of our
own unhappy experience, the teachings and the records of
the past give proof enough for sane peoples. I admit that at
the first I was sceptic. Were it not that through long years
I have trained myself to keep an open mind, I could not
have believed until such time as that fact thunder on my
ear.‘See! See! I prove, I prove.’ Alas! Had I known at first
what now I know, nay, had I even guess at him, one so
precious life had been spared to many of us who did love
her. But that is gone, and we must so work, that other
poor souls perish not, whilst we can save. The nosferatu
do not die like the bee when he sting once. He is only
stronger, and being stronger, have yet more power to
work evil. This vampire which is amongst us is of himself
so strong in person as twenty men, he is of cunning more
than mortal, for his cunning be the growth of ages, he
have still the aids of necromancy, which is, as his
etymology imply, the divination by the dead, and all the
dead that he can come nigh to are for him at command,
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he is brute, and more than brute, he is devil in callous, and
the heart of him is not, he can, within his range, direct the
elements, the storm, the fog, the thunder, he can
command all the meaner things, the rat, and the owl, and
the bat, the moth, and the fox, and the wolf, he can grow
and become small, and he can at times vanish and come
unknown. How then are we to begin our strike to destroy
him? How shall we find his where, and having found it,
how can we destroy? My friends, this is much, it is a
terrible task that we undertake, and there may be
consequence to make the brave shudder. For if we fail in
this our fight he must surely win, and then where end we?
Life is nothings, I heed him not. But to fail here, is not
mere life or death. It is that we become as him, that we
henceforward become foul things of the night like him,
without heart or conscience, preying on the bodies and
the souls of those we love best. To us forever are the gates
of heaven shut, for who shall open them to us again? We
go on for all time abhorred by all, a blot on the face of
God’s sunshine, an arrow in the side of Him who died for
man. But we are face to face with duty, and in such case
must we shrink? For me, I say no, but then I am old, and
life, with his sunshine, his fair places, his song of birds, his
music and his love, lie far behind. You others are young.
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Some have seen sorrow, but there are fair days yet in store.
What say you?’
Whilst he was speaking, Jonathan had taken my hand. I
feared, oh so much, that the appalling nature of our
danger was overcoming him when I saw his hand stretch
out, but it was life to me to feel its touch, so strong, so self
reliant, so resolute. A brave man’s hand can speak for itself,
it does not even need a woman’s love to hear its music.
When the Professor had done speaking my husband
looked in my eyes, and I in his, there was no need for
speaking between us.
‘I answer for Mina and myself,’ he said.
‘Count me in, Professor,’ said Mr. Quincey Morris,
laconically as usual.
‘I am with you,’ said Lord Godalming, ‘for Lucy’s sake,
if for no other reason.’
Dr. Seward simply nodded.
The Professor stood up and, after laying his golden
crucifix on the table, held out his hand on either side. I
took his right hand, and Lord Godalming his left, Jonathan
held my right with his left and stretched across to Mr.
Morris. So as we all took hands our solemn compact was
made. I felt my heart icy cold, but it did not even occur to
me to draw back. We resumed our places, and Dr. Van
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Helsing went on with a sort of cheerfulness which showed
that the serious work had begun. It was to be taken as
gravely, and in as businesslike a way, as any other
transaction of life.
‘Well, you know what we have to contend against, but
we too, are not without strength. We have on our side
power of combination, a power denied to the vampire
kind, we have sources of science, we are free to act and
think, and the hours of the day and the night are ours
equally. In fact, so far as our powers extend, they are
unfettered, and we are free to use them. We have self
devotion in a cause and an end to achieve which is not a
selfish one. These things are much.
‘Now let us see how far the general powers arrayed
against us are restrict, and how the individual cannot. In
fine, let us consider the limitations of the vampire in
general, and of this one in particular.
‘All we have to go upon are traditions and superstitions.
These do not at the first appear much, when the matter is
one of life and death, nay of more than either life or death.
Yet must we be satisfied, in the first place because we have
to be, no other means is at our control, and secondly,
because, after all these things, tradition and superstition,
are everything. Does not the belief in vampires rest for
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others, though not, alas! for us, on them! A year ago
which of us would have received such a possibility, in the
midst of our scientific, sceptical, matter-of-fact nineteenth
century? We even scouted a belief that we saw justified
under our very eyes. Take it, then, that the vampire, and
the belief in his limitations and his cure, rest for the
moment on the same base. For, let me tell you, he is
known everywhere that men have been. In old Greece, in
old Rome, he flourish in Germany all over, in France, in
India, even in the Chermosese, and in China, so far from
us in all ways, there even is he, and the peoples for him at
this day. He have follow the wake of the berserker
Icelander, the devil-begotten Hun, the Slav, the Saxon,
the Magyar.
‘So far, then, we have all we may act upon, and let me
tell you that very much of the beliefs are justified by what
we have seen in our own so unhappy experience. The
vampire live on, and cannot die by mere passing of the
time, he can flourish when that he can fatten on the blood
of the living. Even more, we have seen amongst us that he
can even grow younger, that his vital faculties grow
strenuous, and seem as though they refresh themselves
when his special pabulum is plenty.
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‘But he cannot flourish without this diet, he eat not as
others. Even friend Jonathan, who lived with him for
weeks, did never see him eat, never! He throws no
shadow, he make in the mirror no reflect, as again
Jonathan observe. He has the strength of many of his
hand, witness again Jonathan when he shut the door
against the wolves, and when he help him from the
diligence too. He can transform himself to wolf, as we
gather from the ship arrival in Whitby, when he tear open
the dog, he can be as bat, as Madam Mina saw him on the
window at Whitby, and as friend John saw him fly from
this so near house, and as my friend Quincey saw him at
the window of Miss Lucy.
‘He can come in mist which he create, that noble ship’s
captain proved him of this, but, from what we know, the
distance he can make this mist is limited, and it can only
be round himself.
‘He come on moonlight rays as elemental dust, as again
Jonathan saw those sisters in the castle of Dracula. He
become so small, we ourselves saw Miss Lucy, ere she was
at peace, slip through a hairbreadth space at the tomb
door. He can, when once he find his way, come out from
anything or into anything, no matter how close it be
bound or even fused up with fire, solder you call it. He
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can see in the dark, no small power this, in a world which
is one half shut from the light. Ah, but hear me through.
‘He can do all these things, yet he is not free. Nay, he
is even more prisoner than the slave of the galley, than the
madman in his cell. He cannot go where he lists, he who
is not of nature has yet to obey some of nature’s laws, why
we know not. He may not enter anywhere at the first,
unless there be some one of the household who bid him
to come, though afterwards he can come as he please. His
power ceases, as does that of all evil things, at the coming
of the day.
‘Only at certain times can he have limited freedom. If
he be not at the place whither he is bound, he can only
change himself at noon or at exact sunrise or sunset. These
things we are told, and in this record of ours we have
proof by inference. Thus, whereas he can do as he will
within his limit, when he have his earth-home, his coffinhome,
his hell-home, the place unhallowed, as we saw
when he went to the grave of the suicide at Whitby, still
at other time he can only change when the time come. It
is said, too, that he can only pass running water at the
slack or the flood of the tide. Then there are things which
so afflict him that he has no power, as the garlic that we
know of, and as for things sacred, as this symbol, my
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crucifix, that was amongst us even now when we resolve,
to them he is nothing, but in their presence he take his
place far off and silent with respect. There are others, too,
which I shall tell you of, lest in our seeking we may need
them.
‘The branch of wild rose on his coffin keep him that he
move not from it, a sacred bullet fired into the coffin kill
him so that he be true dead, and as for the stake through
him, we know already of its peace, or the cut off head that
giveth rest. We have seen it with our eyes.
‘Thus when we find the habitation of this man-thatwas,
we can confine him to his coffin and destroy him, if
we obey what we know. But he is clever. I have asked my
friend Arminius, of Buda-Pesth University, to make his
record, and from all the means that are, he tell me of what
he has been. He must, indeed, have been that Voivode
Dracula who won his name against the Turk, over the
great river on the very frontier of Turkeyland. If it be so,
then was he no common man, for in that time, and for
centuries after, he was spoken of as the cleverest and the
most cunning, as well as the bravest of the sons of the
‘land beyond the forest.’ That mighty brain and that iron
resolution went with him to his grave, and are even now
arrayed against us. The Draculas were, says Arminius, a
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