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1JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL--continued When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came over me. I rushed up
2and down the stairs, trying every door and peering out of every window I could find; but after a little the conviction
3of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When I look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for
4the time, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap. When, however, the conviction had come to me that I was helpless I
5sat down quietly--as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life--and began to think over what was best to be done.
6I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite conclusion. Of one thing only am I certain; that it is no use
7making my ideas known to the Count. He knows well that I am imprisoned; and as he has done it himself, and has doubtless
8his own motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only
9plan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes open. I am, I know, either being deceived, like a
10baby, by my own fears, or else I am in desperate straits; and if the latter be so, I need, and shall need, all my brains
11to get through. I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great door below shut, and knew that the Count had
12returned. He did not come at once into the library, so I went cautiously to my own room and found him making the bed.
13This was odd, but only confirmed what I had all along thought--that there were no servants in the house. When later I
14saw him through the chink of the hinges of the door laying the table in the dining-room, I was assured of it; for if he
15does himself all these menial offices, surely it is proof that there is no one else to do them. This gave me a fright,
16for if there is no one else in the castle, it must have been the Count himself who was the driver of the coach that
17brought me here. This is a terrible thought; for if so, what does it mean that he could control the wolves, as he did,
18by only holding up his hand in silence. How was it that all the people at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible
19fear for me? What meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of the mountain ash? Bless that
20good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! for it is a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It
21is odd that a thing which I have been taught to regard with disfavour and as idolatrous should in a time of loneliness
22and trouble be of help. Is it that there is something in the essence of the thing itself, or that it is a medium, a
23tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy and comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and
24try to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I must find out all I can about Count Dracula, as it may help me to
25understand. To-night he may talk of himself, if I turn the conversation that way. I must be very careful, however, not
26to awake his suspicion. Midnight.--I have had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a few questions on Transylvania
27history, and he warmed up to the subject wonderfully. In his speaking of things and people, and especially of battles,
28he spoke as if he had been present at them all. This he afterwards explained by saying that to a boyar the pride of his
29house and name is his own pride, that their glory is his glory, that their fate is his fate. Whenever he spoke of his
30house he always said "we," and spoke almost in the plural, like a king speaking. I wish I could put down all he said
31exactly as he said it, for to me it was most fascinating. It seemed to have in it a whole history of the country. He
32grew excited as he spoke, and walked about the room pulling his great white moustache and grasping anything on which he
33laid his hands as though he would crush it by main strength. One thing he said which I shall put down as nearly as I
34can; for it tells in its way the story of his race:-- "We Szekelys have a right to be proud, for in our veins flows the
35blood of many brave races who fought as the lion fights, for lordship. Here, in the whirlpool of European races, the
36Ugric tribe bore down from Iceland the fighting spirit which Thor and Wodin gave them, which their Berserkers displayed
37to such fell intent on the seaboards of Europe, ay, and of Asia and Africa too, till the peoples thought that the
38were-wolves themselves had come. Here, too, when they came, they found the Huns, whose warlike fury had swept the earth
39like a living flame, till the dying peoples held that in their veins ran the blood of those old witches, who, expelled
40from Scythia had mated with the devils in the desert. Fools, fools! What devil or what witch was ever so great as
41Attila, whose blood is in these veins?" He held up his arms. "Is it a wonder that we were a conquering race; that we
42were proud; that when the Magyar, the Lombard, the Avar, the Bulgar, or the Turk poured his thousands on our frontiers,
43we drove them back? Is it strange that when Arpad and his legions swept through the Hungarian fatherland he found us
44here when he reached the frontier; that the Honfoglalas was completed there? And when the Hungarian flood swept
45eastward, the Szekelys were claimed as kindred by the victorious Magyars, and to us for centuries was trusted the
46guarding of the frontier of Turkey-land; ay, and more than that, endless duty of the frontier guard, for, as the Turks
47say, 'water sleeps, and enemy is sleepless.' Who more gladly than we throughout the Four Nations received the 'bloody
48sword,' or at its warlike call flocked quicker to the standard of the King? When was redeemed that great shame of my
49nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of the Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the Crescent? Who was it
50but one of my own race who as Voivode crossed the Danube and beat the Turk on his own ground? This was a Dracula indeed!
51Woe was it that his own unworthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the Turk and brought the shame of
52slavery on them! Was it not this Dracula, indeed, who inspired that other of his race who in a later age again and again
53brought his forces over the great river into Turkey-land; who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again, and
54again, though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being slaughtered, since he knew that he
55alone could ultimately triumph! They said that he thought only of himself. Bah! what good are peasants without a leader?
56Where ends the war without a brain and heart to conduct it? Again, when, after the battle of Mohács, we threw off the
57Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood were amongst their leaders, for our spirit would not brook that we were not
58free. Ah, young sir, the Szekelys--and the Dracula as their heart's blood, their brains, and their swords--can boast a
59record that mushroom growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs can never reach. The warlike days are over. Blood is
60too precious a thing in these days of dishonourable peace; and the glories of the great races are as a tale that is
61told." It was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed. (Mem., this diary seems horribly like the beginning of
62the "Arabian Nights," for everything has to break off at cockcrow--or like the ghost of Hamlet's father.)
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