Dracula

by Stoker, Bram

  “I could not see him anywhere in the passage, or in any of our rooms. I looked in the study but, though he had been there, he had gone. He had, however …” He stopped suddenly, looking at the poor drooping figure on the bed.

  Van Helsing said gravely, “Go on, friend Arthur. We want here no more concealments. Our hope now is in knowing all. Tell freely!”

  So Art went on, “He had been there, and though it could only have been for a few seconds, he made rare hay of the place. All the manuscript had been burned, and the blue flames were flickering amongst the white ashes. The cylinders of your phonograph too were thrown on the fire, and the wax had helped the flames.”

  Here I interrupted. “Thank God there is the other copy in the safe!”

  His face lit for a moment, but fell again as he went on. “I ran downstairs then, but could see no sign of him. I looked into Renfield’s room, but there was no trace there except …” Again he paused.

  “Go on,” said Harker hoarsely.

  So he bowed his head and moistening his lips with his tongue, added, “except that the poor fellow is dead.” Mrs. Harker raised her head, looking from one to the other of us she said solemnly:—

  “God’s will be done!” I could not but feel that Art was keeping back something. But, as I took it that it was with a purpose, I said nothing. Van Helsing turned to Morris and asked:—

  “And you, friend Quincey, have you any to tell?”

  “A little,” he answered. “It may be much eventually, but at present I can’t say. I thought it well to know if possible where the Count would go when he left the house. I did not see him, but I saw a bat rise from Renfield’s window, and flap westward. I expected to see him in some shape go back to Carfax, but he evidently sought some other lair. He will not be back tonight, for the sky is reddening in the east, and the dawn is close. We must work tomorrow!”

  He said the latter words through his shut teeth. For a space of perhaps a couple of minutes there was silence, and I could fancy that I could hear the sound of our hearts beating. Then Van Helsing said, placing his hand tenderly on Mrs. Harker’s head:—

  “And now, Madam Mina, poor dear, dear, Madam Mina, tell us exactly what happened. God knows that I do not want that you be pained, but it is need that we know all. For now more than ever has all work to be done quick and sharp, and in deadly earnest. The day is close to us that must end all, if it may be so, and now is the chance that we may live and learn.”

  The poor dear lady shivered, and I could see the tension of her nerves as she clasped her husband closer to her and bent her head lower and lower still on his breast. Then she raised her head proudly, and held out one hand to Van Helsing who took it in his, and after stooping and kissing it reverently, held it fast. The other hand was locked in that of her husband, who held his other arm thrown round her protectingly. After a pause in which she was evidently ordering her thoughts, she began.

  “I took the sleeping draught which you had so kindly given me, but for a long time it did not act. I seemed to become more wakeful, and myriads of horrible fancies began to crowd in upon my mind. All of them connected with death, and vampires, with blood, and pain, and trouble.” Her husband involuntarily groaned as she turned to him and said lovingly, “Do not fret, dear. You must be brave and strong, and help me through the horrible task. If you only knew what an effort it is to me to tell of this fearful thing at all, you would understand how much I need your help. Well, I saw I must try to help the medicine to its work with my will, if it was to do me any good, so I resolutely set myself to sleep. Sure enough sleep must soon have come to me, for I remember no more. Jonathan coming in had not waked me, for he lay by my side when next I remember. There was in the room the same thin white mist that I had before noticed. But I forget now if you know of this. You will find it in my diary which I shall show you later. I felt the same vague terror which had come to me before and the same sense of some presence. I turned to wake Jonathan, but found that he slept so soundly that it seemed as if it was he who had taken the sleeping draught, and not I. I tried, but I could not wake him. This caused me a great fear, and I looked around terrified. Then indeed, my heart sank within me. Beside the bed, as if he had stepped out of the mist, or rather as if the mist had turned into his figure, for it had entirely disappeared, stood a tall, thin man, all in black. I knew him at once from the description of the others. The waxen face, the high aquiline nose, on which the light fell in a thin white line, the parted red lips, with the sharp white teeth showing between, and the red eyes that I had seemed to see in the sunset on the windows of St. Mary’s Church at Whitby. I knew, too, the red scar on his forehead where Jonathan had struck him. For an instant my heart stood still, and I would have screamed out, only that I was paralyzed. In the pause he spoke in a sort of keen, cutting whisper, pointing as he spoke to Jonathan:—

  “‘Silence! If you make a sound I shall take him and dash his brains out before your very eyes.’ I was appalled and was too bewildered to do or say anything. With a mocking smile, he placed one hand upon my shoulder and, holding me tight, bared my throat with the other, saying as he did so, ‘First, a little refreshment to reward my exertions. You may as well be quiet. It is not the first time, or the second that your veins have appeased my thirst!’ I was bewildered, and strangely enough, I did not want to hinder him. I suppose it is a part of the horrible curse that such is, when his touch is on his victim. And oh, my God, my God, pity me! He placed his reeking lips upon my throat!” Her husband groaned again. She clasped his hand harder, and looked at him pityingly, as if he were the injured one, and went on:—

  “I felt my strength fading away, and I was in a half swoon. How long this horrible thing lasted I know not, but it seemed that a long time must have passed before he took his foul, awful, sneering mouth away. I saw it drip with the fresh blood!” The remembrance seemed for a while to overpower her, and she drooped and would have sunk down but for her husband’s sustaining arm. With a great effort she recovered herself and went on:—

  “Then he spoke to me mockingly, ‘And so you, like the others, would play your brains against mine. You would help these men to hunt me and frustrate me in my design! You know now, and they know in part already, and will know in full before long, what it is to cross my path. They should have kept their energies for use closer to home. Whilst they played wits against me, against me who commanded nations, and intrigued for them, and fought for them, hundreds of years before they were born, I was countermining them. And you, their best beloved one, are now to me, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, kin of my kin, my bountiful wine-press for a while, and shall be later on my companion and my helper. You shall be avenged in turn, for not one of them but shall minister to your needs. But as yet you are to be punished for what you have done. You have aided in thwarting me. Now you shall come to my call. When my brain says “Come!” to you, you shall cross land or sea to do my bidding. And to that end this!’ With that he pulled open his shirt, and with his long sharp nails opened a vein in his breast. When the blood began to spurt out, he took my hands in one of his, holding them tight, and with the other seized my neck and pressed my mouth to the wound, so that I must either suffocate or swallow some to the … Oh, my God! My God! What have I done? What have I done to deserve such a fate, I who have tried to walk in meekness and righteousness all my days. God pity me! Look down on a poor soul in worse than mortal peril. And in mercy pity those to whom she is dear!” Then she began to rub her lips as though to cleanse them from pollution.

  As she was telling her terrible story, the eastern sky began to quicken, and everything became more and more clear. Harker was still and quiet; but over his face, as the awful narrative went on, came a grey look which deepened and deepened in the morning light, till when the first red streak of the coming dawn shot up, the flesh stood darkly out against the whitening hair.

  We have arranged that one of us is to stay within call of the unhappy pair till we can meet together and arrange about taking ac
tion.

  Of this I am sure. The sun rises today on no more miserable house in all the great round of its daily course.

  Why should he not be calm? That is the question we as readers are meant to ask. We know the revelation(s) will be dramatic, and thus, at a point in the text when we might otherwise be getting a tad sluggish with the “bigness of the story,” Stoker re-engages us with his cliff-hanger/revelation double-barreled literary technique.

  In considering Edgar Rice Burroughs, who created Tarzan and John Carter of Mars, critics point out such literary gaffes in his work as over-the-top purple prose and off-the-wall melodrama. They zing him for putting tigers in Africa when Mother Nature did not do so, etc., but no one ever criticizes his ability to keep the reader asking, “What happens next?” No one ever denies Edgar Rice Burroughs is a storyteller.

  As is Bram Stoker with Dracula. Yes, he bungles various details, many of them medical, but there’s no question: He is a master of “what happens next?” writing. Stoker is the consummate storyteller.

  I’d say that would have been some kind of “awkward kink.”

  But we have a pretty good idea how it might have happened, don’t we? Who is it that has the strength of twenty men? Who could twist, bend, and pound Renfield as though he were made of Play-doh? This is super-human strength … or inhuman strength. Undead strength.

  As long as we’re concealing, we might as well conceal our deductions from the attendant.

  Stoker soon gives us evidence that this is one of his favorite words!

  The medical term more often used is trepanning, or boring a hole in the skull. In this case, Van Helsing, whose medical practices in the past, particularly with blood transfusions, have been questionable, is doing what he should to relieve building pressure on the brain.

  Ah, stertorous the second.

  One more stertorous.

  Brandy as stimulant … works every time.

  Very subtle: By capitalizing the pronoun he whenever Renfield refers to Dracula, we know not only just who he is speaking of, but the fear and reverence with which he regards him, that is … Him: Renfield’s Lord and Master.

  We have previously been told of Dracula’s mental powers. Now we are about to see what the Count can do thanks to Renfield, who has directly experienced those powers.

  In Matthew 4:9, the Devil says to Jesus, “All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.” This is not then a bad line for Dracula to come up with. We have previously seen that Dracula is something of a Biblical scholar back in Chapter 2.

  Of course, Stoker does not imply nor should we deduce that Renfield is akin to Jesus, although in the end, it does seem that he has something self-sacrificial in his nature.

  Remember the rules Dracula must observe: A vampire cannot enter a house unless so bidden by one within. Consistency is key when it comes to the rules one must play with when dealing with a creature like Dracula.

  Delicately implied as it would have to be for these times, Dracula carries with him “the smell of a woman”: none other than Mina Harker.

  Once more, Mina shows herself to be the most capable human character of the novel. Renfield has frequently shown disdain for Seward, has taunted Van Helsing, and pretty much ignored the other men, but Mina means something to him. She has touched his humanity, and so he is furious with Dracula for taking the life out of her.

  Now we know exactly how—and why—Renfield has sustained his injuries.

  … stertorous the fourth.

  Sometimes beginning writers hesitate to repeat a word too close in its proximity to a previous usage. Thus we get tortured lines like:

  “He walked down the sidewalk. He paused. Looking down near the toe of his shoe, he saw a penny on the concrete pathway. He bent to pick it up, accidentally scraping his knuckles on the roughness of the pavement.”

  But an occasional repetition is no bad thing.

  If, however, there are so many repetitions that a reader becomes more conscious of the word itself than of the story and he gets taken out of the “enveloping dream,” then it’s a distraction that should be avoided.

  The ever-so-polite gentlemanly gentlemen come across as near comedy, like the overly polite Gaston and Pierre of Warner Bros. cartoons.

  “After you, my dear Pierre.”

  “No, after you, my dear Gaston.”

  “I insist, my dear Pierre.”

  “No, I am the one who must insist, my dear Gaston.”

  It straddles humor and social commentary … even in the face of evil, are we not gentlemen?

  Van Helsing tries to conclude this minicomedy of manners …

  But Quincey isn’t going for it!

  With what is about to happen, Stoker might have been striving for a bit of comedy, because we are about to see one of the novel’s most horrific scenes! Stoker is adept at softening a scene in order to maximize the impact of a twist, a shock, or a scream.

  And we are about to see what he sees …

  But first Stoker keeps us hanging on for the presentation of the totally credible “hair rising on the neck” and “stop the heart” response. We’re keyed up for what we are about to see …

  “Cruel to cute little animals” is not how we readers see and interpret this scene, is it? We get the sexual implications, including the possibility that Mr. Harker has been violated as well as Mrs. Harker, and is now in something akin to a post-coital stupor. And with the blood liberally splattered as it is, clothes in disarray, etc., the critics who have done psychosexual studies of Dracula have a strong case for this being a nasty double rape scene.

  This is the first time the “anti-Dracula gang” has reason to be confident in their quest to destroy the vampire. They see him fearful and retreating before them. This is a “story reversal” in reverse! It gives our good guys confidence as we see that these not-always-competent characters can defeat Dracula.

  A story or plot reversal occurs when things appear to be going one way, but they end up going another. If handled poorly, the reversal can seem like contrivance, an act that occurs because of the author’s too obvious hand. If done correctly, surprisingly but logically—indeed, inevitably—it can ramp up character’s motivation and add to reader involvement.

  Despite the many abstractions, Stoker gives us the sound of Mina’s scream. This is showing for the ear.

  This is a writer’s commentary on Dracula, not a psychotherapist’s. If you find an erotic meaning, well, I leave you to interpret: “ … all the man in him awake.”

  Right, Van Helsing has always been most forthcoming (can you hear my sarcastic tone?).

  Jonathan, of course, is not sleeping a normal sleep. Dracula’s mental powers are at work. We realize this, and the author has no need to so inform us. Once more, we see Stoker as a fine storyteller, not for what he writes but for what he realizes he does not have to write.

  The “strange moods” and lethargy affecting Mina are explained.

  Notice Mina cannot bring herself to say, “I saw it drip with my fresh blood!” It’s psychologically perceptive of Stoker to have her try to distance herself from what has transpired, even if only in this small verbal way.

  Dracula loves Biblical cadences and phraseology. It is only right that Evil mock Good in Good’s own words …

  … and with the next beat, he’s making a bad joke about Mina becoming his wine press.

  Once again a Biblical reference: Mina is taking communion, a “baptism by blood” into vampirism. This is blood. Drink it. You will become part of me and I a part of you.

  The Bible has been a springboard for horror stories ever since the Bible has recounted horror stories. It is hard to imagine the Western horror genre without the massive Biblical touchstone.

  It’s not too great a leap to see Mina in the role of Job or any of the Bible’s many protagonists and prophets who questioned why the Lord allowed them to suffer though they were not sinners.

  Despite the victory the men have experienced in driving
back Dracula, this chapter ends on the natural notes of gloom and doom as it ought.

  It might be instructive for authors of all stripes, not just horror writers, to go through Dracula and decide how many chapters wrap with an up, down, or neutral note. Stoker has a finely developed feeling for story rhythm, and this rhythmic pulse can be felt beating at the end of each chapter.

  Chapter 22

  JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL

  3 OCTOBER.—As I must do something or go mad, I write this diary. It is now six o’clock, and we are to meet in the study in half an hour and take something to eat, for Dr. Van Helsing and Dr. Seward are agreed that if we do not eat we cannot work our best. Our best will be, God knows, required today. I must keep writing at every chance, for I dare not stop to think. All, big and little, must go down. Perhaps at the end the little things may teach us most. The teaching, big or little, could not have landed Mina or me anywhere worse than we are today. However, we must trust and hope. Poor Mina told me just now, with the tears running down her dear cheeks, that it is in trouble and trial that our faith is tested. That we must keep on trusting, and that God will aid us up to the end. The end! Oh my God! What end? … To work! To work!

  When Dr. Van Helsing and Dr. Seward had come back from seeing poor Renfield, we went gravely into what was to be done. First, Dr. Seward told us that when he and Dr. Van Helsing had gone down to the room below they had found Renfield lying on the floor, all in a heap. His face was all bruised and crushed in, and the bones of the neck were broken.

  Dr. Seward asked the attendant who was on duty in the passage if he had heard anything. He said that he had been sitting down, he confessed to half dozing, when he heard loud voices in the room, and then Renfield had called out loudly several times, “God! God! God!” After that there was a sound of falling, and when he entered the room he found him lying on the floor, face down, just as the doctors had seen him. Van Helsing asked if he had heard “voices” or “a voice,” and he said he could not say. That at first it had seemed to him as if there were two, but as there was no one in the room it could have been only one. He could swear to it, if required, that the word “God” was spoken by the patient. Dr. Seward said to us, when we were alone, that he did not wish to go into the matter. The question of an inquest had to be considered, and it would never do to put forward the truth, as no one would believe it. As it was, he thought that on the attendant’s evidence he could give a certificate of death by misadventure in falling from bed. In case the coroner should demand it, there would be a formal inquest, necessarily to the same result.