Jonathan
Harker's Journal5 May The Castle. The gray of the morning
has passed, and the sun is high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged,
whether with trees or hills I know not, for it is so far off that big things and
little are mixed. I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I
awake, naturally I write till sleep comes. There are many odd things to
put down, and, lest who reads them may fancy that I dined too well before I left
Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly. I dined on what they called
"robber steak"--bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper,
and strung on sticks, and roasted over the fire, in simple style of the London
cat's meat! The wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on
the tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable. I had only a couple of
glasses of this, and nothing else. When I got on the coach, the driver had
not taken his seat, and I saw him talking to the landlady. They were evidently
talking of me, for every now and then they looked at me, and some of the people
who were sitting on the bench outside the door--came and listened, and then looked
at me, most of them pityingly. I could hear a lot of words often repeated, queer
words, for there were many nationalities in the crowd, so I quietly got my polyglot
dictionary from my bag and looked them out. I must say they were not cheering
to me, for amongst them were "Ordog"--Satan, "Pokol"--hell,
"stregoica"--witch, "vrolok" and "vlkoslak"--both
mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that
is either werewolf or vampire. (Mem., I must ask the Count about these superstitions.) When
we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had by this time swelled to a
considerable size, all made the sign of the cross and pointed two fingers towards
me. With some difficulty, I got a fellow passenger to tell me what they
meant. He would not answer at first, but on learning that I was English, he explained
that it was a charm or guard against the evil eye. This was not very pleasant
for me, just starting for an unknown place to meet an unknown man. But everyone
seemed so kind-hearted, and so sorrowful, and so sympathetic that I could not
but be touched. I shall never forget the last glimpse which I had of the
inn yard and its crowd of picturesque figures, all crossing themselves, as they
stood round the wide archway, with its background of rich foliage of oleander
and orange trees in green tubs clustered in the centre of the yard. Then
our driver, whose wide linen drawers covered the whole front of the boxseat,--"gotza"
they call them--cracked his big whip over his four small horses, which ran abreast,
and we set off on our journey. I soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly
fears in the beauty of the scene as we drove along, although had I known the language,
or rather languages, which my fellow passengers were speaking, I might not have
been able to throw them off so easily. Before us lay a green sloping land full
of forests and woods, with here and there steep hills, crowned with clumps of
trees or with farmhouses, the blank gable end to the road. There was everywhere
a bewildering mass of fruit blossom--apple, plum, pear, cherry. And as we drove
by I could see the green grass under the trees spangled with the fallen petals.
In and out amongst these green hills of what they call here the "Mittel Land"
ran the road, losing itself as it swept round the grassy curve, or was shut out
by the straggling ends of pine woods, which here and there ran down the hillsides
like tongues of flame. The road was rugged, but still we seemed to fly over it
with a feverish haste. I could not understand then what the haste meant, but the
driver was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching Borgo Prund. I was told
that this road is in summertime excellent, but that it had not yet been put in
order after the winter snows. In this respect it is different from the general
run of roads in the Carpathians, for it is an old tradition that they are not
to be kept in too good order. Of old the Hospadars would not repair them, lest
the Turk should think that they were preparing to bring in foreign troops, and
so hasten the war which was always really at loading point. Beyond the green
swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty slopes of forest up to the lofty
steeps of the Carpathians themselves. Right and left of us they towered, with
the afternoon sun falling full upon them and bringing out all the glorious colours
of this beautiful range, deep blue and purple in the shadows of the peaks, green
and brown where grass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged rock
and pointed crags, till these were themselves lost in the distance, where the
snowy peaks rose grandly. Here and there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains,
through which, as the sun began to sink, we saw now and again the white gleam
of falling water. One of my companions touched my arm as we swept round the base
of a hill and opened up the lofty, snow-covered peak of a mountain, which seemed,
as we wound on our serpentine way, to be right before us. "Look! Isten
szek!"--"God's seat!"--and he crossed himself reverently. As
we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower behind us, the shadows
of the evening began to creep round us. This was emphasized by the fact that the
snowy mountain-top still held the sunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate
cool pink. Here and there we passed Cszeks and Slovaks, all in picturesque attire,
but I noticed that goitre was painfully prevalent. By the roadside were many crosses,
and as we swept by, my companions all crossed themselves. Here and there was a
peasant man or woman kneeling before a shrine, who did not even turn round as
we approached, but seemed in the self-surrender of devotion to have neither eyes
nor ears for the outer world. There were many things new to me. For instance,
hay-ricks in the trees, and here and there very beautiful masses of weeping birch,
their white stems shining like silver through the delicate green of the leaves. Dracula_wagonleiter Now
and again we passed a leiter-wagon--the ordinary peasants's cart--with its long,
snakelike vertebra, calculated to suit the inequalities of the road. On this were
sure to be seated quite a group of homecoming peasants, the Cszeks with their
white, and the Slovaks with their coloured sheepskins, the latter carrying lance-fashion
their long staves, with axe at end. As the evening fell it began to get very cold,
and the growing twilight seemed to merge into one dark mistiness the gloom of
the trees, oak, beech, and pine, though in the valleys which ran deep between
the spurs of the hills, as we ascended through the Pass, the dark firs stood out
here and there against the background of late-lying snow. Sometimes, as the road
was cut through the pine woods that seemed in the darkness to be closing down
upon us, great masses of greyness which here and there bestrewed the trees, produced
a peculiarly weird and solemn effect, which carried on the thoughts and grim fancies
engendered earlier in the evening, when the falling sunset threw into strange
relief the ghost-like clouds which amongst the Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly
through the valleys. Sometimes the hills were so steep that, despite our driver's
haste, the horses could only go slowly. I wished to get down and walk up them,
as we do at home, but the driver would not hear of it. "No, no," he
said. "You must not walk here. The dogs are too fierce." And then he
added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry--for he looked round to
catch the approving smile of the rest--"And you may have enough of such matters
before you go to sleep." The only stop he would make was a moment's pause
to light his lamps. When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement
amongst the passengers, and they kept speaking to him, one after the other, as
though urging him to further speed. He lashed the horses unmercifully with his
long whip, and with wild cries of encouragement urged them on to further exertions.
Then through the darkness I could see a sort of patch of grey light ahead of us,
as though there were a cleft in the hills. The excitement of the passengers grew
greater. The crazy coach rocked on its great leather springs, and swayed like
a boat tossed on a stormy sea. I had to hold on. The road grew more level, and
we appeared to fly along. Then the mountains seemed to come nearer to us on each
side and to frown down upon us. We were entering on the Borgo Pass. One by one
several of the passengers offered me gifts, which they pressed upon me with an
earnestness which would take no denial. These were certainly of an odd and varied
kind, but each was given in simple good faith, with a kindly word, and a blessing,
and that same strange mixture of fear-meaning movements which I had seen outside
the hotel at Bistritz-- the sign of the cross and the guard against the evil eye.
Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned forward, and on each side the passengers,
craning over the edge of the coach, peered eagerly into the darkness. It was evident
that something very exciting was either happening or expected, but though I asked
each passenger, no one would give me the slightest explanation. This state of
excitement kept on for some little time. And at last we saw before us the Pass
opening out on the eastern side. There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and
in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain
range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous
one. I was now myself looking out for the conveyance which was to take me to the
Count. Each moment I expected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness,
but all was dark. The only light was the flickering rays of our own lamps, in
which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in a white cloud. We could see
now the sandy road lying white before us, but there was on it no sign of a vehicle.
The passengers drew back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock my own
disappointment. I was already thinking what I had best do, when the driver, looking
at his watch, said to the others something which I could hardly hear, it was spoken
so quietly and in so low a tone, I thought it was "An hour less than the
time." Then turning to me, he spoke in German worse than my own. "There
is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected after all. He will now come on to
Bukovina, and return tomorrow or the next day, better the next day." Whilst
he was speaking the horses began to neigh and snort and plunge wildly, so that
the driver had to hold them up. Then, amongst a chorus of screams from the peasants
and a universal crossing of themselves, a caleche, with four horses, drove up
behind us, overtook us, and drew up beside the coach . I could see from the flash
of our lamps as the rays fell on them, that the horses were coal-black and splendid
animals. They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black
hat, which seemed to hide his face from us. I could only see the gleam of a pair
of very bright eyes, which seemed red in the lamplight, as he turned to us. He
said to the driver, "You are early tonight, my friend." The man
stammered in reply, "The English Herr was in a hurry." To which
the stranger replied, "That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to
Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend. I know too much, and my horses are
swift." As he spoke he smiled,and the lamplight fell on a hard-looking
mouth, with very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of my
companions whispered to another the line from Burger's "Lenore".
"Denn die Todten reiten Schnell." ("For the dead travel fast.")
The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming
smile. The passenger turned his face away, at the same time putting out his two
fingers and crossing himself. "Give me the Herr's luggage," said the
driver, and with exceeding alacrity my bags were handed out and put in the caleche.
Then I descended from the side of the coach, as the caleche was close alongside,
the driver helping me with a hand which caught my arm in a grip of steel. His
strength must have been prodigious. Without a word he shook his reins, the
horses turned, and we swept into the darkness of the pass. As I looked back I
saw the steam from the horses of the coach by the light of the lamps,and projected
against it the figures of my late companions crossing themselves. Then the driver
cracked his whip and called to his horses, and off they swept on their way to
Bukovina. As they sank into the darkness I felt a strange chill, and a lonely
feeling come over me. But a cloak was thrown over my shoulders, and a rug across
my knees, and the driver said in excellent German-- "The night is chill,
mein Herr, and my master the Count bade me take all care of you. There is a flask
of slivovitz (the plum brandy of the country) underneath the seat, if you should
require it." I did not take any, but it was a comfort to know it was
there all the same. I felt a little strangely, and not a little frightened. I
think had there been any alternative I should have taken it, instead of prosecuting
that unknown night journey. The carriage went at a hard pace straight along, then
we made a complete turn and went along another straight road. It seemed to me
that we were simply going over and over the same ground again, and so I took note
of some salient point, and found that this was so. I would have liked to have
asked the driver what this all meant, but I really feared to do so, for I thought
that, placed as I was, any protest would have had no effect in case there had
been an intention to delay. By-and-by, however, as I was curious to know
how time was passing, I struck a match, and by its flame looked at my watch. It
was within a few minutes of midnight. This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose
the general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent experiences.
I waited with a sick feeling of suspense. Then a dog began to howl somewhere
in a farmhouse far down the road, a long, agonized wailing, as if from fear. The
sound was taken up by another dog, and then another and another, till, borne on
the wind which now sighed softly through the Pass, a wild howling began, which
seemed to come from all over the country, as far as the imagination could grasp
it through the gloom of the night. At the first howl the horses began to
strain and rear, but the driver spoke to them soothingly, and they quieted down,
but shivered and sweated as though after a runaway from sudden fright. Then, far
off in the distance, from the mountains on each side of us began a louder and
a sharper howling, that of wolves, which affected both the horses and myself in
the same way. For I was minded to jump from the caleche and run, whilst they reared
again and plunged madly, so that the driver had to use all his great strength
to keep them from bolting. In a few minutes, however, my own ears got accustomed
to the sound, and the horses so far became quiet that the driver was able to descend
and to stand before them. He petted and soothed them, and whispered something
in their ears, as I have heard of horse-tamers doing, and with extraordinary effect,
for under his caresses they became quite manageable again, though they still trembled.
The driver again took his seat, and shaking his reins, started off at a great
pace. This time, after going to the far side or the Pass, he suddenly turned down
a narrow roadway which ran sharply to the right. Soon we were hemmed in
with trees, which in places arched right over the roadway till we passed as through
a tunnel. And again great frowning rocks guarded us boldly on either side. Though
we were in shelter, we could hear the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled
through the rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed together as we swept
along. It grew colder and colder still, and fine, powdery snow began to fall,
so that soon we and all around us were covered with a white blanket. The keen
wind still carried the howling of the dogs, though this grew fainter as we went
on our way. The baying of the wolves sounded nearer and nearer, as though they
were closing round on us from every side. I grew dreadfully afraid, and the horses
shared my fear. The driver, however, was not in the least disturbed. He kept turning
his head to left and right, but I could not see anything through the darkness. Suddenly,
away on our left I saw a fain flickering blue flame. The driver saw it at the
same moment. He at once checked the horses, and, jumping to the ground, disappeared
into the darkness. I did not know what to do, the less as the howling of the wolves
grew closer. But while I wondered, the driver suddenly appeared again, and without
a word took his seat, and we resumed our journey. I think I must have fallen asleep
and kept dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be repeated endlessly, and
now looking back, it is like a sort of awful nightmare. Once the flame appeared
so near the road, that even in the darkness around us I could watch the driver's
motions. He went rapidly to where the blue flame arose, it must have been very
faint, for it did not seem to illumine the place around it at all, and gathering
a few stones, formed them into some device. Once there appeared a strange
optical effect. When he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it,
for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same. This startled me, but as the
effect was only momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived me straining through
the darkness. Then for a time there were no blue flames, and we sped onwards through
the gloom, with the howling of the wolves around us, as though they were following
in a moving circle. At last there came a time when the driver went further
afield than he had yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began to tremble
worse than ever and to snort and scream with fright. I could not see any cause
for it, for the howling of the wolves had ceased altogether. But just then the
moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a
beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with
white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair.
They were a hundred times more terrible in the grim silence which held them than
even when they howled. For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only
when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand
their true import. All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight
had had some peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about and reared, and
looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way painful to see. But the
living ring of terror encompassed them on every side, and they had perforce to
remain within it. I called to the coachman to come, for it seemed to me that our
only chance was to try to break out through the ring and to aid his approach,
I shouted and beat the side of the caleche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves
from the side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap. How he came there,
I know not, but I heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious command, and looking
towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway. As he swept his long arms, as
though brushing aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back
further still. Just then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so
that we were again in darkness. When I could see again the driver was climbing
into the caleche, and the wolves disappeared. This was all so strange and uncanny
that a dreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or move. The time
seemed interminable as we swept on our way, now in almost complete darkness, for
the rolling clouds obscured the moon. We kept on ascending, with occasional
periods of quick descent, but in the main always ascending. Suddenly, I became
conscious of the fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses
in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no
ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the sky.
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