by Stoker, Bram
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 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.”
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.
I shall try to see the carter who took away the boxes from Carfax when Renfield attacked them. By following up this clue, we may learn a good deal.
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 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 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 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 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 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 saw 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 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!
The next member of “Vampire Hunters, LLC” begins initiation into the group. For Mina, though, Stoker allows less free will about joining than has been the case with any of the men.
Seward has treated his phonograph as a rather mundane but helpful device. It’s easy for us to forget that the “miracles of phonography” might not have yet been widely known to the general populace, so this would have been quite the novelty.
Mina is still a new player, and thus Seward would be concerned about her sensibilities. He does not yet know that she is lacking neither backbone nor willpower.
Mina is without question the most consistently perceptive of all the characters in Dracula. Practical and resolute and not without humor, she shares such traits with the men but shows herself more consistently compassionate and empathic than any of the guys.
Stoker gives us gender differences in Dracula, and considering the times, seldom slanders either male or female!
Hmm, guess that phono thing didn’t have a “search” control … oh.
One of the ways in which a successful team esprit de corps can be formed is with exercises in trust. This “sharing of secrets” contributes to the team-building process.
Time and again, Stoker demonstrates serious knowledge of the thinking and behavior of human beings, especially when it comes to relationships and working in groups.
Seward uses wonderful in the older sense of the word: There’s no “delight” here, only a sense of awe.
Mina seems more capable of “grasping the reins” than any of the fellows. Mina is indeed the “new woman”: Not so many years down the line, her offspring will appear as “Rosie the Riveter.”
Her wishes or her diplomatically presented command? Stoker does a subtle job of giving us a powerful woman in a time when such power had to be disguised. Mina uses her “womanly wiles”—“looked at me so appealingly”—yet makes things happen as she sees they need to.
And what is Mina seeking? Knowledge to be shared with/by all. She knows knowledge is power.
The clearest focus and arguably the strongest will in Dracula? Mina Murray Harker. Whether learning shorthand, bringing Jonathan back from the (Un)dead, or seeking to end Dracula’s threat, she’s on it.
Note the we employed by Seward. He knows the team requires Mina. And his use of this pronoun means Stoker won’t have to give us: “I decided and would tell the others that Mina could bring to our vampire-hunting society a certain …”
From context, we recognize “forked metal” as earphones, although probably not as comfortable as earbuds.
But she is of a wryly humorous disposition! Go, Mina!
Mina shows herself as utterly responsible and in control. One good belt of brandy … and she’s ready to go. Compare this to some of the wavering, indecisive actions (or inactions) of the “men of Dracula.”
Manifold is collated paper with carbon paper backups interleaved. (When I got into writing, I used carbon paper on my Underwood manual typewriter. Not feeling my age or anything …)
Is that a memorable line, or is it?
Sounds like Jonathan’s recovery is complete. Of course, like others in the novel, when faced with a situation forcing him to consider something besides his own concerns, he has proven worthy.
In fairness to Seward, while Renfield did provide clues, there were few enough hints for Seward as to how to interpret those clues. Once more, Seward proves himself a “changed man.” The Seward we first met would never have thought to blame himself for anything.
This is so subtle a way of telling us that (a) Jonathan is back and he’s better than ever, and (b) Mina and Jonathan are indeed the team those two shorthand-using kids had hoped to be. Stoker gives us all that with the simple, “Mina and I have worked all day …”
Exactly. And because we trust Mina’s perception, we know Jonathan is A-OK.
Mina the compassionate is a totally authentic character who knows what she feels and instinctively acts on it.
Mr. Stoker! It is not strange. Mina would know that; we readers certainly do. Did you miss editing this sentence in your final draft?
One more initiating/bonding moment for the “good-guy gang of vampire busters.”
Is it not Mina who makes the group “one for all and all for one”? How cleverly Stoker brings them together. Everyone has a reason to be here, in this space, at this time.
Everyone has a sense of purpose and mission: the same purpose and mission.
And now everyone is evolving into more than a “group of individuals.” They are the team.
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. “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 astonishment he said, “You’re not the girl the doctor wante
d 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 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.
