{"id":25,"date":"2019-02-25T20:46:58","date_gmt":"2019-02-25T20:46:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/dracula\/chapter\/dracula\/"},"modified":"2019-03-18T19:57:55","modified_gmt":"2019-03-18T19:57:55","slug":"1","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/chapter\/1\/","title":{"raw":"Chapter 1 - Jonathan Harker's Journal","rendered":"Chapter 1 – Jonathan Harker’s Journal"},"content":{"raw":"
\r\n\r\n3 May. Bistritz. \u2014Left Munich at 8:35 P. M, on 1st May, arriving\r\nat Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but\r\ntrain was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from\r\nthe glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could\r\nwalk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station,\r\nas we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as\r\npossible.\r\n\r\nThe impression I had was that we were leaving the West and\r\nentering the East; the most western of splendid bridges over the\r\nDanube, which is here of noble width and depth, took us among the\r\ntraditions of Turkish rule.\r\n\r\nWe left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to\r\n[pb_glossary id=\"107\"]Klausenburgh[\/pb_glossary]. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I\r\nhad for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with\r\nred pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Mem. get recipe for\r\nMina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called \"paprika\r\nhendl,\" and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to\r\nget it anywhere along the Carpathians.\r\n\r\nI found my smattering of German very useful here, indeed, I\r\ndon't know how I should be able to get on without it.\r\n\r\nHaving had some time at my disposal when in London, I had\r\nvisited the British Museum, and made search among the books and\r\nmaps in the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that\r\nsome foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some\r\nimportance in dealing with a nobleman of that country.\r\n\r\nI find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the\r\ncountry, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania,\r\nMoldavia, and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian mountains;\r\none of the wildest and least known portions of Europe.\r\n\r\nI was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact\r\nlocality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this\r\ncountry as yet to compare with our own Ordnance Survey Maps; but I\r\nfound that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a\r\nfairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as\r\nthey may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with\r\nMina.\r\n\r\nIn the population of Transylvania there are four distinct\r\nnationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the\r\nWallachs, who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the\r\nWest, and Szekelys in the East and North. I am going among the\r\nlatter, who claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns. This\r\nmay be so, for when the Magyars conquered the country in the\r\neleventh century they found the Huns settled in it.\r\n\r\nI read that every known superstition in the world is gathered\r\ninto the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of\r\nsome sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very\r\ninteresting. (Mem., I must ask the Count all about them.)\r\n\r\nI did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for\r\nI had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night\r\nunder my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it\r\nmay have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in\r\nmy carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was\r\nwakened by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must\r\nhave been sleeping soundly then.\r\n\r\nI had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of\r\nmaize flour which they said was \"mamaliga\", and egg-plant stuffed\r\nwith forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they call \"impletata\".\r\n(Mem.,get recipe for this also.)\r\n\r\nI had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a little before\r\neight, or rather it ought to have done so, for after rushing to the\r\nstation at 7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour\r\nbefore we began to move.\r\n\r\nIt seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual\r\nare the trains. What ought they to be in China?\r\n\r\nAll day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was\r\nfull of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or\r\ncastles on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals;\r\nsometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide\r\nstony margin on each side of them to be subject of great floods. It\r\ntakes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the outside edge\r\nof a river clear.\r\n\r\nAt every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds,\r\nand in all sorts of attire. Some of them were just like the\r\npeasants at home or those I saw coming through France and Germany,\r\nwith short jackets, and round hats, and home-made trousers; but\r\nothers were very picturesque.\r\n\r\nThe women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they\r\nwere very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white sleeves\r\nof some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of\r\nstrips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a\r\nballet, but of course there were petticoats under them.\r\n\r\nThe strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more\r\nbarbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy\r\ndirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy\r\nleather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass\r\nnails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them,\r\nand had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very\r\npicturesque, but do not look prepossessing. On the stage they would\r\nbe set down at once as some old Oriental band of brigands. They\r\nare, however, I am told, very harmless and rather wanting in\r\nnatural self-assertion.\r\n\r\nIt was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz,\r\nwhich is a very interesting old place. Being practically on the\r\nfrontier\u2014for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina\u2014it has had\r\na very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty\r\nyears ago a series of great fires took place, which made terrible\r\nhavoc on five separate occasions. At the very beginning of the\r\nseventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost\r\n13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by\r\nfamine and disease.\r\n\r\nCount Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel,\r\nwhich I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned,\r\nfor of course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the\r\ncountry.\r\n\r\nI was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a\r\ncheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress\u2014white\r\nundergarment with a long double apron, front, and back, of coloured\r\nstuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came close she\r\nbowed and said, \"The Herr Englishman?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes,\" I said, \"Jonathan Harker.\"\r\n\r\nShe smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white\r\nshirt-sleeves, who had followed her to the door.\r\n\r\nHe went, but immediately returned with a letter:\r\n\r\n\"My friend.\u2014Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting\r\nyou. Sleep well tonight. At three tomorrow the [pb_glossary id=\"115\"]diligence[\/pb_glossary] will start\r\nfor Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my\r\ncarriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your\r\njourney from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy\r\nyour stay in my beautiful land.\u2014Your friend, Dracula.\"\r\n\r\n4 May\u2014I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count,\r\ndirecting him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on\r\nmaking inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and\r\npretended that he could not understand my German.\r\n\r\nThis could not be true, because up to then he had understood it\r\nperfectly; at least, he answered my questions exactly as if he\r\ndid.\r\n\r\nHe and his wife, the old lady who had received me, looked at\r\neach other in a frightened sort of way. He mumbled out that the\r\nmoney had been sent in a letter, and that was all he knew. When I\r\nasked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of\r\nhis castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying\r\nthat they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak further. It\r\nwas so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask anyone\r\nelse, for it was all very mysterious and not by any means\r\ncomforting.\r\n\r\nJust before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and\r\nsaid in a hysterical way: \"Must you go? Oh! Young Herr, must you\r\ngo?\" She was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost\r\nher grip of what German she knew, and mixed it all up with some\r\nother language which I did not know at all. I was just able to\r\nfollow her by asking many questions. When I told her that I must go\r\nat once, and that I was engaged on important business, she asked\r\nagain:\r\n\r\n\"Do you know what day it is?\" I answered that it was the fourth\r\nof May. She shook her head as she said again:\r\n\r\n\"Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what day it\r\nis?\"\r\n\r\nOn my saying that I did not understand, she went on:\r\n\r\n\"It is the eve of St. George's Day. Do you not know that\r\nto-night, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in\r\nthe world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and\r\nwhat you are going to?\" She was in such evident distress that I\r\ntried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally, she went down on\r\nher knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two\r\nbefore starting.\r\n\r\nIt was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable.\r\nHowever, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing\r\nto interfere with it.\r\n\r\nI tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I\r\nthanked her, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go.\r\n\r\nShe then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her\r\nneck offered it to me.\r\n\r\nI did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have\r\nbeen taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous,\r\nand yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so\r\nwell and in such a state of mind.\r\n\r\nShe saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary\r\nround my neck and said, \"For your mother's sake,\" and went out of\r\nthe room.\r\n\r\nI am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waiting for\r\nthe coach, which is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still\r\nround my neck.\r\n\r\nWhether it is the old lady's fear, or the many ghostly\r\ntraditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know,\r\nbut I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual.\r\n\r\nIf this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my\r\ngood-bye. Here comes the coach!\r\n\r\n5 May. The Castle.\u2014The gray of the morning has passed, and the\r\nsun is high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether\r\nwith trees or hills I know not, for it is so far off that big\r\nthings and little are mixed.\r\n\r\nI am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I awake,\r\nnaturally I write till sleep comes.\r\n\r\nThere are many odd things to put down, and, lest who reads them\r\nmay fancy that I dined too well before I left Bistritz, let me put\r\ndown my dinner exactly.\r\n\r\nI dined on what they called \"robber steak\"\u2014bits of bacon, onion,\r\nand beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks, and\r\nroasted over the fire, in simple style of the London cat's\r\nmeat!\r\n\r\nThe wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on\r\nthe tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable.\r\n\r\nI had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing else.\r\n\r\nWhen I got on the coach, the driver had not taken his seat, and\r\nI saw him talking to the landlady.\r\n\r\nThey were evidently talking of me, for every now and then they\r\nlooked at me, and some of the people who were sitting on the bench\r\noutside the door\u2014came and listened, and then looked at me, most of\r\nthem pityingly. I could hear a lot of words often repeated, queer\r\nwords, for there were many nationalities in the crowd, so I quietly\r\ngot my polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked them out.\r\n\r\nI must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were\r\n\"Ordog\"\u2014Satan, \"Pokol\"\u2014hell, \"stregoica\"\u2014witch, \"vrolok\" and\r\n\"vlkoslak\"\u2014both mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other\r\nServian for something that is either werewolf or vampire. (Mem.,I\r\nmust ask the Count about these superstitions.)\r\n\r\nWhen we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had by this\r\ntime swelled to a considerable size, all made the sign of the cross\r\nand pointed two fingers towards me.\r\n\r\nWith some difficulty, I got a fellow passenger to tell me what\r\nthey meant. He would not answer at first, but on learning that I\r\nwas English, he explained that it was a charm or guard against the\r\nevil eye.\r\n\r\nThis was not very pleasant for me, just starting for an unknown\r\nplace to meet an unknown man. But everyone seemed so kind-hearted,\r\nand so sorrowful, and so sympathetic that I could not but be\r\ntouched.\r\n\r\nI shall never forget the last glimpse which I had of the inn\r\nyard and its crowd of picturesque figures, all crossing themselves,\r\nas they stood round the wide archway, with its background of rich\r\nfoliage of oleander and orange trees in green tubs clustered in the\r\ncentre of the yard.\r\n\r\nThen our driver, whose wide linen drawers covered the whole\r\nfront of the boxseat,\u2014\"gotza\" they call them\u2014cracked his big whip\r\nover his four small horses, which ran abreast, and we set off on\r\nour journey.\r\n\r\nI soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly fears in the\r\nbeauty of the scene as we drove along, although had I known the\r\nlanguage, or rather languages, which my fellow-passengers were\r\nspeaking, I might not have been able to throw them off so easily.\r\nBefore us lay a green sloping land full of forests and woods, with\r\nhere and there steep hills, crowned with clumps of trees or with\r\nfarmhouses, the blank gable end to the road. There was everywhere a\r\nbewildering mass of fruit blossom\u2014apple, plum, pear, cherry. And as\r\nwe drove by I could see the green grass under the trees spangled\r\nwith the fallen petals. In and out amongst these green hills of\r\nwhat they call here the \"Mittel Land\" ran the road, losing itself\r\nas it swept round the grassy curve, or was shut out by the\r\nstraggling ends of pine woods, which here and there ran down the\r\nhillsides like tongues of flame. The road was rugged, but still we\r\nseemed to fly over it with a feverish haste. I could not understand\r\nthen what the haste meant, but the driver was evidently bent on\r\nlosing no time in reaching Borgo Prund. I was told that this road\r\nis in summertime excellent, but that it had not yet been put in\r\norder after the winter snows. In this respect it is different from\r\nthe general run of roads in the Carpathians, for it is an old\r\ntradition that they are not to be kept in too good order. Of old\r\nthe Hospadars would not repair them, lest the Turk should think\r\nthat they were preparing to bring in foreign troops, and so hasten\r\nthe war which was always really at loading point.\r\n\r\nBeyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty\r\nslopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians\r\nthemselves. Right and left of us they towered, with the afternoon\r\nsun falling full upon them and bringing out all the glorious\r\ncolours of this beautiful range, deep blue and purple in the\r\nshadows of the peaks, green and brown where grass and rock mingled,\r\nand an endless perspective of jagged rock and pointed crags, till\r\nthese were themselves lost in the distance, where the snowy peaks\r\nrose grandly. Here and there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains,\r\nthrough which, as the sun began to sink, we saw now and again the\r\nwhite gleam of falling water. One of my companions touched my arm\r\nas we swept round the base of a hill and opened up the lofty,\r\nsnow-covered peak of a mountain, which seemed, as we wound on our\r\nserpentine way, to be right before us.\r\n\r\n\"Look! Isten szek!\"\u2014\"God's seat!\"\u2014and he crossed himself\r\nreverently.\r\n\r\nAs we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower\r\nbehind us, the shadows of the evening began to creep round us. This\r\nwas emphasized by the fact that the snowy mountain-top still held\r\nthe sunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool pink. Here\r\nand there we passed Cszeks and slovaks, all in picturesque attire,\r\nbut I noticed that goitre was painfully prevalent. By the roadside\r\nwere many crosses, and as we swept by, my companions all crossed\r\nthemselves. Here and there was a peasant man or woman kneeling\r\nbefore a shrine, who did not even turn round as we approached, but\r\nseemed in the self-surrender of devotion to have neither eyes nor\r\nears for the outer world. There were many things new to me. For\r\ninstance, hay-ricks in the trees, and here and there very beautiful\r\nmasses of weeping birch, their white stems shining like silver\r\nthrough the delicate green of the leaves.\r\n\r\nNow and again we passed a leiter-wagon\u2014the ordinary peasants's\r\ncart\u2014with its long, snakelike vertebra, calculated to suit the\r\ninequalities of the road. On this were sure to be seated quite a\r\ngroup of homecoming peasants, the Cszeks with their white, and the\r\nSlovaks with their coloured sheepskins, the latter carrying\r\nlance-fashion their long staves, with axe at end. As the evening\r\nfell it began to get very cold, and the growing twilight seemed to\r\nmerge into one dark mistiness the gloom of the trees, oak, beech,\r\nand pine, though in the valleys which ran deep between the spurs of\r\nthe hills, as we ascended through the Pass, the dark firs stood out\r\nhere and there against the background of late lying snow. Sometimes,\r\nas the road was cut through the pine woods that seemed in the\r\ndarkness to be closing down upon us, great masses of greyness which\r\nhere and there bestrewed the trees, produced a peculiarly weird and\r\nsolemn effect, which carried on the thoughts and grim fancies\r\nengendered earlier in the evening, when the falling sunset threw\r\ninto strange relief the ghost-like clouds which amongst the\r\nCarpathians seem to wind ceaselessly through the valleys. Sometimes\r\nthe hills were so steep that, despite our driver's haste, the\r\nhorses could only go slowly. I wished to get down and walk up them,\r\nas we do at home, but the driver would not hear of it. \"No, no,\" he\r\nsaid. \"You must not walk here. The dogs are too fierce.\" And then\r\nhe added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry\u2014for he\r\nlooked round to catch the approving smile of the rest\u2014\"And you may\r\nhave enough of such matters before you go to sleep.\" The only stop\r\nhe would make was a moment's pause to light his lamps.\r\n\r\nWhen it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement amongst the\r\npassengers, and they kept speaking to him, one after the other, as\r\nthough urging him to further speed. He lashed the horses\r\nunmercifully with his long whip, and with wild cries of\r\nencouragement urged them on to further exertions. Then through the\r\ndarkness I could see a sort of patch of grey light ahead of us, as\r\nthough there were a cleft in the hills. The excitement of the\r\npassengers grew greater. The crazy coach rocked on its great\r\nleather springs, and swayed like a boat tossed on a stormy sea. I\r\nhad to hold on. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly\r\nalong. Then the mountains seemed to come nearer to us on each side\r\nand to frown down upon us. We were entering on the Borgo Pass. One\r\nby one several of the passengers offered me gifts, which they\r\npressed upon me with an earnestness which would take no denial.\r\nThese were certainly of an odd and varied kind, but each was given\r\nin simple good faith, with a kindly word, and a blessing, and that\r\nsame strange mixture of fear-meaning movements which I had seen\r\noutside the hotel at Bistritz\u2014 the sign of the cross and the guard\r\nagainst the evil eye. Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned\r\nforward, and on each side the passengers, craning over the edge of\r\nthe coach, peered eagerly into the darkness. It was evident that\r\nsomething very exciting was either happening or expected, but\r\nthough I asked each passenger, no one would give me the slightest\r\nexplanation. This state of excitement kept on for some little time.\r\nAnd at last we saw before us the Pass opening out on the eastern\r\nside. There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the\r\nheavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the\r\nmountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had\r\ngot into the thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the\r\nconveyance which was to take me to the Count. Each moment I\r\nexpected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness, but all\r\nwas dark. The only light was the flickering rays of our own lamps,\r\nin which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in a white\r\ncloud. We could see now the sandy road lying white before us, but\r\nthere was on it no sign of a vehicle. The passengers drew back with\r\na sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock my own disappointment. I\r\nwas already thinking what I had best do, when the driver, looking\r\nat his watch, said to the others something which I could hardly\r\nhear, it was spoken so quietly and in so low a tone, I thought it\r\nwas \"An hour less than the time.\" Then turning to me, he spoke in\r\nGerman worse than my own.\r\n\r\n\"There is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected after all.\r\nHe will now come on to Bukovina, and return tomorrow or the next\r\nday, better the next day.\" Whilst he was speaking the horses began\r\nto neigh and snort and plunge wildly, so that the driver had to\r\nhold them up. Then, amongst a chorus of screams from the peasants\r\nand a universal crossing of themselves, a caleche, with four\r\nhorses, drove up behind us, overtook us, and drew up beside the\r\ncoach. I could see from the flash of our lamps as the rays fell on\r\nthem, that the horses were coal-black and splendid animals. They\r\nwere driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great\r\nblack hat, which seemed to hide his face from us. I could only see\r\nthe gleam of a pair of very bright eyes, which seemed red in the\r\nlamplight, as he turned to us.\r\n\r\nHe said to the driver, \"You are early tonight, my friend.\"\r\n\r\nThe man stammered in reply, \"The English Herr was in a\r\nhurry.\"\r\n\r\nTo which the stranger replied, \"That is why, I suppose, you\r\nwished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend.\r\nI know too much, and my horses are swift.\"\r\n\r\nAs he spoke he smiled, and the lamplight fell on a hardlooking\r\nmouth, with very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as white as\r\nivory. One of my companions whispered to another the line from\r\nBurger's \"Lenore\".\r\n\r\n\"Denn die Todten reiten Schnell.\" (\"For the dead travel\r\nfast.\")\r\n\r\nThe strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up\r\nwith a gleaming smile. The passenger turned his face away, at the\r\nsame time putting out his two fingers and crossing himself. \"Give\r\nme the Herr's luggage,\" said the driver, and with exceeding\r\nalacrity my bags were handed out and put in the caleche. Then I\r\ndescended from the side of the coach, as the caleche was close\r\nalongside, the driver helping me with a hand which caught my arm in\r\na grip of steel. His strength must have been prodigious.\r\n\r\nWithout a word he shook his reins, the horses turned, and we\r\nswept into the darkness of the pass. As I looked back I saw the\r\nsteam from the horses of the coach by the light of the lamps, and\r\nprojected against it the figures of my late companions crossing\r\nthemselves. Then the driver cracked his whip and called to his\r\nhorses, and off they swept on their way to Bukovina. As they sank\r\ninto the darkness I felt a strange chill, and a lonely feeling come\r\nover me. But a cloak was thrown over my shoulders, and a rug across\r\nmy knees, and the driver said in excellent German\u2014\r\n\r\n\"The night is chill, mein Herr, and my master the Count bade me\r\ntake all care of you. There is a flask of slivovitz (the plum\r\nbrandy of the country) underneath the seat, if you should require\r\nit.\"\r\n\r\nI did not take any, but it was a comfort to know it was there\r\nall the same. I felt a little strangely, and not a little\r\nfrightened. I think had there been any alternative I should have\r\ntaken it, instead of prosecuting that unknown night journey. The\r\ncarriage went at a hard pace straight along, then we made a\r\ncomplete turn and went along another straight road. It seemed to me\r\nthat we were simply going over and over the same ground again, and\r\nso I took note of some salient point, and found that this was so. I\r\nwould have liked to have asked the driver what this all meant, but\r\nI really feared to do so, for I thought that, placed as I was, any\r\nprotest would have had no effect in case there had been an\r\nintention to delay.\r\n\r\nBy-and-by, however, as I was curious to know how time was\r\npassing, I struck a match, and by its flame looked at my watch. It\r\nwas within a few minutes of midnight. This gave me a sort of shock,\r\nfor I suppose the general superstition about midnight was increased\r\nby my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of\r\nsuspense.\r\n\r\nThen a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the\r\nroad, a long, agonized wailing, as if from fear. The sound was\r\ntaken up by another dog, and then another and another, till, borne\r\non the wind which now sighed softly through the Pass, a wild\r\nhowling began, which seemed to come from all over the country, as\r\nfar as the imagination could grasp it through the gloom of the\r\nnight.\r\n\r\nAt the first howl the horses began to strain and rear, but the\r\ndriver spoke to them soothingly, and they quieted down, but\r\nshivered and sweated as though after a runaway from sudden fright.\r\nThen, far off in the distance, from the mountains on each side of\r\nus began a louder and a sharper howling, that of wolves, which\r\naffected both the horses and myself in the same way. For I was\r\nminded to jump from the caleche and run, whilst they reared again\r\nand plunged madly, so that the driver had to use all his great\r\nstrength to keep them from bolting. In a few minutes, however, my\r\nown ears got accustomed to the sound, and the horses so far became\r\nquiet that the driver was able to descend and to stand before\r\nthem.\r\n\r\nHe petted and soothed them, and whispered something in their\r\nears, as I have heard of horse-tamers doing, and with extraordinary\r\neffect, for under his caresses they became quite manageable again,\r\nthough they still trembled. The driver again took his seat, and\r\nshaking his reins, started off at a great pace. This time, after\r\ngoing to the far side or the Pass, he suddenly turned down a narrow\r\nroadway which ran sharply to the right.\r\n\r\nSoon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places arched right\r\nover the roadway till we passed as through a tunnel. And again\r\ngreat frowning rocks guarded us boldly on either side. Though we\r\nwere in shelter, we could hear the rising wind, for it moaned and\r\nwhistled through the rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed\r\ntogether as we swept along. It grew colder and colder still, and\r\nfine, powdery snow began to fall, so that soon we and all around us\r\nwere covered with a white blanket. The keen wind still carried the\r\nhowling of the dogs, though this grew fainter as we went on our\r\nway. The baying of the wolves sounded nearer and nearer, as though\r\nthey were closing round on us from every side. I grew dreadfully\r\nafraid, and the horses shared my fear. The driver, however, was not\r\nin the least disturbed. He kept turning his head to left and right,\r\nbut I could not see anything through the darkness.\r\n\r\nSuddenly, away on our left I saw a fain flickering blue flame.\r\nThe driver saw it at the same moment. He at once checked the\r\nhorses, and, jumping to the ground, disappeared into the darkness.\r\nI did not know what to do, the less as the howling of the wolves\r\ngrew closer. But while I wondered, the driver suddenly appeared\r\nagain, and without a word took his seat, and we resumed our\r\njourney. I think I must have fallen asleep and kept dreaming of the\r\nincident, for it seemed to be repeated endlessly, and now looking\r\nback, it is like a sort of awful nightmare. Once the flame appeared\r\nso near the road, that even in the darkness around us I could watch\r\nthe driver's motions. He went rapidly to where the blue flame\r\narose, it must have been very faint, for it did not seem to\r\nillumine the place around it at all, and gathering a few stones,\r\nformed them into some device.\r\n\r\nOnce there appeared a strange optical effect. When he stood\r\nbetween me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see\r\nits ghostly flicker all the same. This startled me, but as the\r\neffect was only momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived me\r\nstraining through the darkness. Then for a time there were no blue\r\nflames, and we sped onwards through the gloom, with the howling of\r\nthe wolves around us, as though they were following in a moving\r\ncircle.\r\n\r\nAt last there came a time when the driver went further afield\r\nthan he had yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began to\r\ntremble worse than ever and to snort and scream with fright. I\r\ncould not see any cause for it, for the howling of the wolves had\r\nceased altogether. But just then the moon, sailing through the\r\nblack clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a beetling,\r\npine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of wolves,\r\nwith white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs\r\nand shaggy hair. They were a hundred times more terrible in the\r\ngrim silence which held them than even when they howled. For\r\nmyself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only when a man\r\nfeels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand\r\ntheir true import.\r\n\r\nAll at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had\r\nhad some peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about and\r\nreared, and looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way\r\npainful to see. But the living ring of terror encompassed them on\r\nevery side, and they had perforce to remain within it. I called to\r\nthe coachman to come, for it seemed to me that our only chance was\r\nto try to break out through the ring and to aid his approach, I\r\nshouted and beat the side of the caleche, hoping by the noise to\r\nscare the wolves from the side, so as to give him a chance of\r\nreaching the trap. How he came there, I know not, but I heard his\r\nvoice raised in a tone of imperious command, and looking towards\r\nthe sound, saw him stand in the roadway. As he swept his long arms,\r\nas though brushing aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves fell\r\nback and back further still. Just then a heavy cloud passed across\r\nthe face of the moon, so that we were again in darkness.\r\n\r\nWhen I could see again the driver was climbing into the caleche,\r\nand the wolves disappeared. This was all so strange and uncanny\r\nthat a dreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or\r\nmove. The time seemed interminable as we swept on our way, now in\r\nalmost complete darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the\r\nmoon.\r\n\r\nWe kept on ascending, with occasional periods of quick descent,\r\nbut in the main always ascending. Suddenly, I became conscious of\r\nthe fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in\r\nthe courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black\r\nwindows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a\r\njagged line against the sky.\r\n\r\n<\/div>","rendered":"
\n

3 May. Bistritz. \u2014Left Munich at 8:35 P. M, on 1st May, arriving
\nat Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but
\ntrain was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from
\nthe glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could
\nwalk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station,
\nas we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as
\npossible.<\/p>\n

The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and
\nentering the East; the most western of splendid bridges over the
\nDanube, which is here of noble width and depth, took us among the
\ntraditions of Turkish rule.<\/p>\n

We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to
\n