5 November, afternoon.—I am at least sane. Thank
God for that mercy at all events, though the proving it has
been dreadful. When I left Madam Mina sleeping within
the Holy circle, I took my way to the castle. The
blacksmith hammer which I took in the carriage from
Veresti was useful, though the doors were all open I broke
them off the rusty hinges, lest some ill intent or ill chance
should close them, so that being entered I might not get
out. Jonathan’s bitter experience served me here. By
memory of his diary I found my way to the old chapel, for
I knew that here my work lay. The air was oppressive. It
seemed as if there was some sulphurous fume, which at
times made me dizzy. Either there was a roaring in my
ears or I heard afar off the howl of wolves. Then I
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bethought me of my dear Madam Mina, and I was in
terrible plight. The dilemma had me between his horns.
Her, I had not dare to take into this place, but left safe
from the Vampire in that Holy circle. And yet even there
would be the wolf! I resolve me that my work lay here,
and that as to the wolves we must submit, if it were God’s
will. At any rate it was only death and freedom beyond.
So did I choose for her. Had it but been for myself the
choice had been easy, the maw of the wolf were better to
rest in than the grave of the Vampire! So I make my
choice to go on with my work.
I knew that there were at least three graves to find,
graves that are inhabit. So I search, and search, and I find
one of them. She lay in her Vampire sleep, so full of life
and voluptuous beauty that I shudder as though I have
come to do murder. Ah, I doubt not that in the old time,
when such things were, many a man who set forth to do
such a task as mine, found at the last his heart fail him, and
then his nerve. So he delay, and delay, and delay, till the
mere beauty and the fascination of the wanton Undead
have hypnotize him. And he remain on and on, till sunset
come, and the Vampire sleep be over. Then the beautiful
eyes of the fair woman open and look love, and the
voluptuous mouth present to a kiss, and the man is weak.
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And there remain one more victim in the Vampire fold.
One more to swell the grim and grisly ranks of the
Undead! …
There is some fascination, surely, when I am moved by
the mere presence of such an one, even lying as she lay in
a tomb fretted with age and heavy with the dust of
centuries, though there be that horrid odour such as the
lairs of the Count have had. Yes, I was moved. I, Van
Helsing, with all my purpose and with my motive for
hate. I was moved to a yearning for delay which seemed
to paralyze my faculties and to clog my very soul. It may
have been that the need of natural sleep, and the strange
oppression of the air were beginning to overcome me.
Certain it was that I was lapsing into sleep, the open eyed
sleep of one who yields to a sweet fascination, when there
came through the snow stilled air a long, low wail, so full
of woe and pity that it woke me like the sound of a
clarion. For it was the voice of my dear Madam Mina that
I heard.
Then I braced myself again to my horrid task, and
found by wrenching away tomb tops one other of the
sisters, the other dark one. I dared not pause to look on
her as I had on her sister, lest once more I should begin to
be enthrall. But I go on searching until, presently, I find in
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a high great tomb as if made to one much beloved that
other fair sister which, like Jonathan I had seen to gather
herself out of the atoms of the mist. She was so fair to look
on, so radiantly beautiful, so exquisitely voluptuous, that
the very instinct of man in me, which calls some of my sex
to love and to protect one of hers, made my head whirl
with new emotion. But God be thanked, that soul wail of
my dear Madam Mina had not died out of my ears. And,
before the spell could be wrought further upon me, I had
nerved myself to my wild work. By this time I had
searched all the tombs in the chapel, so far as I could tell.
And as there had been only three of these Undead
phantoms around us in the night, I took it that there were
no more of active Undead existent. There was one great
tomb more lordly than all the rest. Huge it was, and nobly
proportioned. On it was but one word.
DRACULA
This then was the Undead home of the King Vampire,
to whom so many more were due. Its emptiness spoke
eloquent to make certain what I knew. Before I began to
restore these women to their dead selves through my
awful work, I laid in Dracula’s tomb some of the Wafer,
and so banished him from it, Undead, for ever.
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Then began my terrible task, and I dreaded it. Had it
been but one, it had been easy, comparative. But three!
To begin twice more after I had been through a deed of
horror. For it was terrible with the sweet Miss Lucy, what
would it not be with these strange ones who had survived
through centuries, and who had been strengthened by the
passing of the years. Who would, if they could, have
fought for their foul lives …
Oh, my friend John, but it was butcher work. Had I
not been nerved by thoughts of other dead, and of the
living over whom hung such a pall of fear, I could not
have gone on. I tremble and tremble even yet, though till
all was over, God be thanked, my nerve did stand. Had I
not seen the repose in the first place, and the gladness that
stole over it just ere the final dissolution came, as
realization that the soul had been won, I could not have
gone further with my butchery. I could not have endured
the horrid screeching as the stake drove home, the
plunging of writhing form, and lips of bloody foam. I
should have fled in terror and left my work undone. But it
is over! And the poor souls, I can pity them now and
weep, as I think of them placid each in her full sleep of
death for a short moment ere fading. For, friend John,
hardly had my knife severed the head of each, before the
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whole body began to melt away and crumble into its
native dust, as though the death that should have come
centuries ago had at last assert himself and say at once and
loud, ‘I am here!’
Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never
more can the Count enter there Undead.
When I stepped into the circle where Madam Mina
slept, she woke from her sleep and, seeing me, cried out in
pain that I had endured too much.
‘Come!’ she said, ‘come away from this awful place! Let
us go to meet my husband who is, I know, coming
towards us.’ She was looking thin and pale and weak. But
her eyes were pure and glowed with fervour. I was glad to
see her paleness and her illness, for my mind was full of
the fresh horror of that ruddy vampire sleep.
And so with trust and hope, and yet full of fear, we go
eastward to meet our friends, and him, whom Madam
Mina tell me that she know are coming to meet us.
MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL
6 November.—It was late in the afternoon when the
Professor and I took our way towards the east whence I
knew Jonathan was coming. We did not go fast, though
the way was steeply downhill, for we had to take heavy
rugs and wraps with us. We dared not face the possibility
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of being left without warmth in the cold and the snow.
We had to take some of our provisions too, for we were
in a perfect desolation, and so far as we could see through
the snowfall, there was not even the sign of habitation.
When we had gone about a mile, I was tired with the
heavy walking and sat down to rest. Then we looked back
and saw where the clear line of Dracula’s castle cut the
sky. For we were so deep under the hill whereon it was
set that the angle of perspective of the Carpathian
mountains was far below it. We saw it in all its grandeur,
perched a thousand feet on the summit of a sheer
precipice, and with seemingly a great gap between it and
the steep of the adjacent mountain on any side. There was
something wild and uncanny about the place. We could
hear the distant howling of wolves. They were far off, but
the sound, even though coming muffled through the
deadening snowfall, was full of terror. I knew from the
way Dr. Van Helsing was searching about that he was
trying to seek some strategic point, where we would be
less exposed in case of attack. The rough roadway still led
downwards. We could trace it through the drifted snow.
In a little while the Professor signalled to me, so I got
up and joined him. He had found a wonderful spot, a sort
of natural hollow in a rock, with an entrance like a
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doorway between two boulders. He took me by the hand
and drew me in.
‘See!’ he said, ‘here you will be in shelter. And if the
wolves do come I can meet them one by one.’
He brought in our furs, and made a snug nest for me,
and got out some provisions and forced them upon me.
But I could not eat, to even try to do so was repulsive to
me, and much as I would have liked to please him, I could
not bring myself to the attempt. He looked very sad, but
did not reproach me. Taking his field glasses from the case,
he stood on the top of the rock, and began to search the
horizon.
Suddenly he called out, ‘Look! Madam Mina, look!
Look!’
I sprang up and stood beside him on the rock. He
handed me his glasses and pointed. The snow was now
falling more heavily, and swirled about fiercely, for a high
wind was beginning to blow. However, there were times
when there were pauses between the snow flurries and I
could see a long way round. From the height where we
were it was possible to see a great distance. And far off,
beyond the white waste of snow, I could see the river
lying like a black ribbon in kinks and curls as it wound its
way. Straight in front of us and not far off, in fact so near
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that I wondered we had not noticed before, came a group
of mounted men hurrying along. In the midst of them was
a cart, a long leiter wagon which swept from side to side,
like a dog’s tail wagging, with each stern inequality of the
road. Outlined against the snow as they were, I could see
from the men’s clothes that they were peasants or gypsies
of some kind.
On the cart was a great square chest. My heart leaped as
I saw it, for I felt that the end was coming. The evening
was now drawing close, and well I knew that at sunset the
Thing, which was till then imprisoned there, would take
new freedom and could in any of many forms elude
pursuit. In fear I turned to the Professor. To my
consternation, however, he was not there. An instant later,
I saw him below me. Round the rock he had drawn a
circle, such as we had found shelter in last night.
When he had completed it he stood beside me again
saying, ‘At least you shall be safe here from him!’ He took
the glasses from me, and at the next lull of the snow swept
the whole space below us. ‘See,’ he said, ‘they come
quickly. They are flogging the horses, and galloping as
hard as they can.’
He paused and went on in a hollow voice, ‘They are
racing for the sunset. We may be too late. God’s will be
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done!’ Down came another blinding rush of driving snow,
and the whole landscape was blotted out. It soon passed,
however, and once more his glasses were fixed on the
plain.
Then came a sudden cry, ‘Look! Look! Look! See, two
horsemen follow fast, coming up from the south. It must
be Quincey and John. Take the glass. Look before the
snow blots it all out!’ I took it and looked. The two men
might be Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris. I knew at all events
that neither of them was Jonathan. At the same time I
knew that Jonathan was not far off. Looking around I saw
on the north side of the coming party two other men,
riding at breakneck speed. One of them I knew was
Jonathan, and the other I took, of course, to be Lord
Godalming. They too, were pursuing the party with the
cart. When I told the Professor he shouted in glee like a
schoolboy, and after looking intently till a snow fall made
sight impossible, he laid his Winchester rifle ready for use
against the boulder at the opening of our shelter.
‘They are all converging,’ he said. ‘When the time
comes we shall have gypsies on all sides.’ I got out my
revolver ready to hand, for whilst we were speaking the
howling of wolves came louder and closer. When the
snow storm abated a moment we looked again. It was
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strange to see the snow falling in such heavy flakes close to
us, and beyond, the sun shining more and more brightly as
it sank down towards the far mountain tops. Sweeping the
glass all around us I could see here and there dots moving
singly and in twos and threes and larger numbers. The
wolves were gathering for their prey.
Every instant seemed an age whilst we waited. The
wind came now in fierce bursts, and the snow was driven
with fury as it swept upon us in circling eddies. At times
we could not see an arm’s length before us. But at others,
as the hollow sounding wind swept by us, it seemed to
clear the air space around us so that we could see afar off.
We had of late been so accustomed to watch for sunrise
and sunset, that we knew with fair accuracy when it
would be. And we knew that before long the sun would
set. It was hard to believe that by our watches it was less
than an hour that we waited in that rocky shelter before
the various bodies began to converge close upon us. The
wind came now with fiercer and more bitter sweeps, and
more steadily from the north. It seemingly had driven the
snow clouds from us, for with only occasional bursts, the
snow fell. We could distinguish clearly the individuals of
each party, the pursued and the pursuers. Strangely
enough those pursued did not seem to realize, or at least
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to care, that they were pursued. They seemed, however,
to hasten with redoubled speed as the sun dropped lower
and lower on the mountain tops.
Closer and closer they drew. The Professor and I
crouched down behind our rock, and held our weapons
ready. I could see that he was determined that they should
not pass. One and all were quite unaware of our presence.
All at once two voices shouted out to ‘Halt!’ One was
my Jonathan’s, raised in a high key of passion. The other
Mr. Morris’ strong resolute tone of quiet command. The
gypsies may not have known the language, but there was
no mistaking the tone, in whatever tongue the words were
spoken. Instinctively they reined in, and at the instant
Lord Godalming and Jonathan dashed up at one side and
Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris on the other. The leader of
the gypsies, a splendid looking fellow who sat his horse
like a centaur, waved them back, and in a fierce voice
gave to his companions some word to proceed. They
lashed the horses which sprang forward. But the four men
raised their Winchester rifles, and in an unmistakable way
commanded them to stop. At the same moment Dr. Van
Helsing and I rose behind the rock and pointed our
weapons at them. Seeing that they were surrounded the
men tightened their reins and drew up. The leader turned
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to them and gave a word at which every man of the gypsy
party drew what weapon he carried, knife or pistol, and
held himself in readiness to attack. Issue was joined in an
instant.
The leader, with a quick movement of his rein, threw
his horse out in front, and pointed first to the sun, now
close down on the hill tops, and then to the castle, said
something which I did not understand. For answer, all
four men of our party threw themselves from their horses
and dashed towards the cart. I should have felt terrible fear
at seeing Jonathan in such danger, but that the ardor of
battle must have been upon me as well as the rest of them.
I felt no fear, but only a wild, surging desire to do
something. Seeing the quick movement of our parties, the
leader of the gypsies gave a command. His men instantly
formed round the cart in a sort of undisciplined
endeavour, each one shouldering and pushing the other in
his eagerness to carry out the order.
In the midst of this I could see that Jonathan on one
side of the ring of men, and Quincey on the other, were
forcing a way to the cart. It was evident that they were
bent on finishing their task before the sun should set.
Nothing seemed to stop or even to hinder them. Neither
the levelled weapons nor the flashing knives of the gypsies
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in front, nor the howling of the wolves behind, appeared
to even attract their attention. Jonathan’s impetuosity, and
the manifest singleness of his purpose, seemed to overawe
those in front of him. Instinctively they cowered aside and
let him pass. In an instant he had jumped upon the cart,
and with a strength which seemed incredible, raised the
great box, and flung it over the wheel to the ground. In
the meantime, Mr. Morris had had to use force to pass
through his side of the ring of Szgany. All the time I had
been breathlessly watching Jonathan I had, with the tail of
my eye, seen him pressing desperately forward, and had
seen the knives of the gypsies flash as he won a way
through them, and they cut at him. He had parried with
his great bowie knife, and at first I thought that he too had
come through in safety. But as he sprang beside Jonathan,
who had by now jumped from the cart, I could see that
with his left hand he was clutching at his side, and that the
blood was spurting through his fingers. He did not delay
notwithstanding this, for as Jonathan, with desperate
energy, attacked one end of the chest, attempting to prize
off the lid with his great Kukri knife, he attacked the other
frantically with his bowie. Under the efforts of both men
the lid began to yield. The nails drew with a screeching
sound, and the top of the box was thrown back.
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By this time the gypsies, seeing themselves covered by
the Winchesters, and at the mercy of Lord Godalming and
Dr. Seward, had given in and made no further resistance.
The sun was almost down on the mountain tops, and the
shadows of the whole group fell upon the snow. I saw the
Count lying within the box upon the earth, some of
which the rude falling from the cart had scattered over
him. He was deathly pale, just like a waxen image, and the
red eyes glared with the horrible vindictive look which I
knew so well.
As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look
of hate in them turned to triumph.
But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of
Jonathan’s great knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through
the throat. Whilst at the same moment Mr. Morris’s
bowie knife plunged into the heart.
It was like a miracle, but before our very eyes, and
almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body
crumbled into dust and passed from our sight.
I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment
of final dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace,
such as I never could have imagined might have rested
there.
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The Castle of Dracula now stood out against the red
sky, and every stone of its broken battlements was
articulated against the light of the setting sun.
The gypsies, taking us as in some way the cause of the
extraordinary disappearance of the dead man, turned,
without a word, and rode away as if for their lives. Those
who were unmounted jumped upon the leiter wagon and
shouted to the horsemen not to desert them. The wolves,
which had withdrawn to a safe distance, followed in their
wake, leaving us alone.
Mr. Morris, who had sunk to the ground, leaned on his
elbow, holding his hand pressed to his side. The blood still
gushed through his fingers. I flew to him, for the Holy
circle did not now keep me back, so did the two doctors.
Jonathan knelt behind him and the wounded man laid
back his head on his shoulder. With a sigh he took, with a
feeble effort, my hand in that of his own which was
unstained.
He must have seen the anguish of my heart in my face,
for he smiled at me and said, ‘I am only too happy to have
been of service! Oh, God!’ he cried suddenly, struggling to
a sitting posture and pointing to me. ‘It was worth for this
to die! Look! Look!’
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The sun was now right down upon the mountain top,
and the red gleams fell upon my face, so that it was bathed
in rosy light. With one impulse the men sank on their
knees and a deep and earnest ‘Amen’ broke from all as
their eyes followed the pointing of his finger.
The dying man spoke, ‘Now God be thanked that all
has not been in vain! See! The snow is not more stainless
than her forehead! The curse has passed away!’
And, to our bitter grief, with a smile and in silence, he
died, a gallant gentleman.
NOTE
Seven years ago we all went through the flames. And
the happiness of some of us since then is, we think, well
worth the pain we endured. It is an added joy to Mina and
to me that our boy’s birthday is the same day as that on
which Quincey Morris died. His mother holds, I know,
the secret belief that some of our brave friend’s spirit has
passed into him. His bundle of names links all our little
band of men together. But we call him Quincey.
In the summer of this year we made a journey to
Transylvania, and went over the old ground which was,
and is, to us so full of vivid and terrible memories. It was
almost impossible to believe that the things which we had
seen with our own eyes and heard with our own ears were
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living truths. Every trace of all that had been was blotted
out. The castle stood as before, reared high above a waste
of desolation.
When we got home we were talking of the old time,
which we could all look back on without despair, for
Godalming and Seward are both happily married. I took
the papers from the safe where they had been ever since
our return so long ago. We were struck with the fact, that
in all the mass of material of which the record is
composed, there is hardly one authentic document.
Nothing but a mass of typewriting, except the later
notebooks of Mina and Seward and myself, and Van
Helsing’s memorandum. We could hardly ask any one,
even did we wish to, to accept these as proofs of so wild a
story. Van Helsing summed it all up as he said, with our
boy on his knee.
‘We want no proofs. We ask none to believe us! This
boy will some day know what a brave and gallant woman
his mother is. Already he knows her sweetness and loving
care. Later on he will understand how some men so loved
her, that they did dare much for her sake.’
JONATHAN HARKER
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