coming!”
“How do you like the Queen?” said the Cat in a low voice.
“Not at all,” said Alice: “she’s so extremely—” Just then she
noticed that the Queen was close behind her, listening: so she went
on “—likely to win, that it’s hardly worth while finishing the
game.”
The Queen smiled and passed on.
“Who are you talking to?” said the King, going up to Alice, and
looking at the Cat’s head with great curiosity.
“It’s a friend of mine—a Cheshire-Cat,” said Alice: “allow me to
introduce it.”
“I don’t like the look of it at all,” said the King: “however,
it may kiss my hand, if it likes.”
“I’d rather not,” the Cat remarked.
“Don’t be impertinent,” said the King, “and don’t look at me
like that!” He got behind Alice as he spoke.
“A cat may look at a king,” said Alice. “I’ve read that in some
book, but I don’t remember where.”
“Well, it must be removed,” said the King very decidedly; and he
called the Queen, who was passing at the moment, “My dear! I wish
you would have this cat removed!”
The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great
or small. “Off with his head!” she said without even looking
round.
“I’ll fetch the executioner myself,” said the King eagerly, and
he hurried off.
Alice thought she might as well go back and see how the game was
going on, as she heard the Queen’s voice in the distance, screaming
with passion. She had already heard her sentence three of the
players to be executed for having missed their turns, and she did
not like the look of things at all, as the game was in such
confusion that she never knew whether it was her turn or not. So
she went off in search of her hedgehog.
The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which
seemed to Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them
with the other: the only difficulty was that her flamingo was gone
across the other side of the garden, where Alice could see it
trying in a helpless sort of way to fly up into a tree.
By the time she had caught the flamingo and brought it back, theBy the time she had caught the flamingo and brought it back, the
fight was over, and both the hedgehogs were out of sight: “but it
doesn’t matter much,” thought Alice, “as all the arches are gone
from this side of the ground.” So she tucked it away under her arm,
that it might not escape again, and went back for a little more
conversation with her friend.
When she got back to the Cheshire-Cat, she was surprised to find
quite a large crowd collected round it: there was a dispute going
on between the executioner, the King, and the Queen, who were all
talking at once, while all the rest were quite silent, and looked
very uncomfortable.
The moment Alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to
settle the question, and they repeated their arguments to her,
though, as they all spoke at once, she found it very hard to make
out exactly what they said.
The executioner’s argument was, that you couldn’t cut off a head
unless there was a body to cut it off from: that he had never had
to do such a thing before, and he wasn’t going to begin at his time
of life.
The King’s argument was that anything that had a head could be
beheaded, and that you weren’t to talk nonsense.
The Queen’s argument was that, if something wasn’t done about it
in less than no time, she’d have everybody executed, all round. (It
was this last remark that had made the whole party look so grave
and anxious.)
Alice could think of nothing else to say but “It belongs to the
Duchess: you’d better ask her about it.”
“She’s in prison,” the Queen said to the executioner: “fetch her
here.” And the executioner went off like an arrow.
The Cat’s head began fading away the moment he was gone, and, by
the time he had come back with the Duchess, it had entirely
disappeared: so the King and the executioner ran wildly up and
down, looking for it, while the rest of the party went back to the
game.“You ca’n’t think how glad I am to see you again, you dear old
thing!” said the Duchess, as she tucked her arm affectionately into
Alice’s, and they walked off together.
Alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper, and
thought to herself that perhaps it was only the pepper that had
made her so savage when they met in the kitchen.
“When I’m a Duchess,” she said to herself (not in a very hopeful
tone, though), “I wo’n’t have any pepper in my kitchen at all. Soup
does very well without—Maybe it’s always pepper that makes people
hot-tempered,” she went on, very much pleased at having found out a
new kind of rule, “and vinegar that makes them sour—and camomile
that makes them bitter—and—and barley-sugar and such things that
make children sweet-tempered. I only wish people knew that: then
they wouldn’t be so stingy about it, you know——”
She had quite forgotten the Duchess by this time, and was a
little startled when she heard her voice close to her ear. “You’re
thinking about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to
talk. I ca’n’t tell you just now what the moral of that is, but I
shall remember it in a bit.”
“Perhaps it hasn’t one,” Alice ventured to remark.
“Tut, tut, child!” said the Duchess. “Everything’s got a moral,
if only you can find it.” And she squeezed herself up closer to
Alice’s side as she spoke.
Alice did not much like her keeping so close to her: first,
because the Duchess was very ugly; and secondly, because she was
exactly the right height to rest her chin upon Alice’s shoulder,
and it was an uncomfortably sharp chin. However, she did not like
to be rude: so she bore it as well as she could.
“The game’s going on rather better now,” she said, by way of
keeping up the conversation a little.
“’Tis so,” said the Duchess: “and the moral of that is—‘Oh, ’tis
love, ’tis love, that makes the world go round!’”
“Somebody said,” Alice whispered, “that it’s done by everybody
minding their own business!”
“Ah, well! It means much the same thing,” said the Duchess,


minding their own business!”
“Ah, well! It means much the same thing,” said the Duchess,
digging her sharp little chin into Alice’s shoulder as she added
“and the moral of that is—‘Take care of the sense, and the sounds
will take care of themselves.’”
“How fond she is of finding morals in things!” Alice thought to
herself.
“I dare say you’re wondering why I don’t put my arm round your
waist,” the Duchess said, after a pause: “the reason is, that I’m
doubtful about the temper of your flamingo. Shall I try the
experiment?”
“He might bite,” Alice cautiously replied, not feeling at all
anxious to have the experiment tried.
“Very true,” said the Duchess: “flamingoes and mustard both
bite. And the moral of that is—‘Birds of a feather flock
together.’”
“Only mustard isn’t a bird,” Alice remarked.
“Right, as usual,” said the Duchess: “what a clear way you have
of putting things!”
“It’s a mineral, I think,” said Alice.
“Of course it is,” said the Duchess, who seemed ready to agree
to everything that Alice said; “there’s a large mustard-mine near
here. And the moral of that is—‘The more there is of mine, the less
there is of yours.’”
“Oh, I know!” exclaimed Alice, who had not attended to this last
remark. “It’s a vegetable. It doesn’t look like one, but it
is.”
“I quite agree with you,” said the Duchess; “and the moral of
that is—‘Be what you would seem to be’—or, if you’d like it put
more simply—‘Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what
it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was
not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to
be otherwise.’”
“I think I should understand that better,” Alice said very
politely, “if I had it written down: but I ca’n’t quite follow it
as you say it.”
“That’s nothing to what I could say if I chose,” the Duchess
replied, in a pleased tone.
“Pray don’t trouble yourself to say it any longer than that,”
said Alice.
“Oh, don’t talk about trouble!” said the Duchess. “I make you a
present of everything I’ve said as yet.”present of everything I’ve said as yet.”
“A cheap sort of present!” thought Alice. “I’m glad they don’t
give birthday-presents like that!” But she did not venture to say
it out loud.
“Thinking again?” the Duchess asked, with another dig of her
sharp little chin.
“I’ve a right to think,” said Alice sharply, for she was
beginning to feel a little worried.
“Just about as much right,” said the Duchess, “as pigs have to
fly; and the m——”
But here, to Alice’s great surprise, the Duchess’s voice died
away, even in the middle of her favourite word “moral,” and the arm
that was linked into hers began to tremble. Alice looked up, and
there stood the Queen in front of them, with her arms folded,
frowning like a thunderstorm.
“A fine day, your Majesty!” the Duchess began in a low, weak
voice.
“Now, I give you fair warning,” shouted the Queen, stamping on
the ground as she spoke; “either you or your head must be off, and
that in about half no time! Take your choice!”
The Duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment.
“Let’s go on with the game,” the Queen said to Alice; and Alice
was too much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back
to the croquet-ground.
The other guests had taken advantage of the Queen’s absence, and
were resting in the shade: however, the moment they saw her, they
hurried back to the game, the Queen merely remarking that a
moment’s delay would cost them their lives.
All the time they were playing the Queen never left off
quarrelling with the other players, and shouting “Off with his
head!' or “Off with her head!” Those whom she sentenced were taken
into custody by the soldiers, who of course had to leave off being
arches to do this, so that, by the end of half an hour or so, there
were no arches left, and all the players, except the King, the
Queen, and Alice, were in custody and under sentence of
execution.
Then the Queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to Alice,
“Have you seen the Mock Turtle yet?”
“No,” said Alice. “I don’t even know what a Mock Turtle is.”“Have you seen the Mock Turtle yet?”
“No,” said Alice. “I don’t even know what a Mock Turtle is.”
“It’s the thing Mock Turtle Soup is made from,” said the
Queen.
“I never saw one, or heard of one,” said Alice.
“Come on, then,” said the Queen, “and he shall tell you his
history,”
As they walked off together, Alice heard the King say in a low
voice, to the company generally, “You are all pardoned.” “Come,
that’s a good thing!” she said to herself, for she had felt quite
unhappy at the number of executions the Queen had ordered.
They very soon came upon a Gryphon, lying fast asleep in the
sun. (If you don’t know what a Gryphon is, look at the picture.)
“Up, lazy thing!” said the Queen, “and take this young lady to see
the Mock Turtle, and to hear his history. I must go back and see
after some executions I have ordered;” and she walked off, leaving
Alice alone with the Gryphon. Alice did not quite like the look of
the creature, but on the whole she thought it would be quite as
safe to stay with it as to go after that savage Queen: so she
waited.
The Gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes: then it watched the
Queen till she was out of sight: then it chuckled. “What fun!” said
the Gryphon, half to itself, half to Alice.
“What is the fun?” said Alice.
“Why, she,” said the Gryphon. “It’s all her fancy, that: they
never executes nobody, you know. Come on!”
“Everybody says ‘come on!’ here,” thought Alice, as she went
slowly after it: “I never was so ordered about before, in all my
life, never!”
They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the
distance, sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as
they came nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart
would break. She pitied him deeply. “What is his sorrow?” she asked
the Gryphon. And the Gryphon answered, very nearly in the same
words as before, “It’s all his fancy, that: he hasn’t got no
sorrow, you know. Come on!”
So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with
large eyes full of tears, but said nothing.


large eyes full of tears, but said nothing.
“This here young lady,” said the Gryphon, “she wants for to know
your history, she do.”
“I’ll tell it her,” said the Mock Turtle in a deep, hollow tone.
“Sit down, both of you, and don’t speak a word till I’ve
finished.”
So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. Alice
thought to herself, “I don’t see how he can ever finish, if he
doesn’t begin.” But she waited patiently.
“Once,” said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, “I was a
real Turtle.”
These words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by
an occasional exclamation of “Hjckrrh!” from the Gryphon, and the
constant heavy sobbing of the Mock Turtle. Alice was very nearly
getting up and saying, “Thank you, Sir, for your interesting
story,” but she could not help thinking there must be more to come,
so she sat still and said nothing.
“When we were little,” the Mock Turtle went on at last, more
calmly, though still sobbing a little now and then, “we went to
school in the sea. The master was an old Turtle—we used to call him
Tortoise——”
“Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn’t one?” Alice
asked.
“We called him Tortoise because he taught us,” said the Mock
Turtle angrily. “Really you are very dull!”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple
question,” added the Gryphon; and then they both sat silent and
looked at poor Alice, who felt ready to sink into the earth. At
last the Gryphon said to the Mock Turtle “Drive on, old fellow!
Don’t be all day about it!”, and he went on in these words:—
“Yes, we went to school in the sea, though you mayn’t believe
it——”
“I never said I didn’t!” interrupted Alice.
“You did,” said the Mock Turtle.
“Hold your tongue!” added the Gryphon, before Alice could speak
again. The Mock Turtle went on.
“We had the best of educations—in fact, we went to school every
day——”
“I’ve been to a day-school, too,” said Alice; “you needn’t be so
proud as all that.”
“With extras?” asked the Mock Turtle, a little anxiously.proud as all that.”
“With extras?” asked the Mock Turtle, a little anxiously.
“Yes,” said Alice, “we learned French and music.”
“And washing?” said the Mock Turtle.
“Certainly not!” said Alice indignantly.
“Ah! then yours wasn’t a really good school,” said the Mock
Turtle in a tone of great relief. “Now, at ours, they had at the
end of the bill, ‘French, music, and washing—extra.’”
“You couldn’t have wanted it much,” said Alice; “living at the
bottom of the sea.”
“I couldn’t afford to learn it,” said the Mock Turtle with a
sigh. “I only took the regular course.”
“What was that?” inquired Alice.
“Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,” the Mock
Turtle replied; “and then the different branches of
Arithmetic—Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.”
“I never heard of ‘Uglification,’” Alice ventured to say. “What
is it?”
The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. “What! Never
heard of uglifying!” it exclaimed. “You know what to beautify is, I
suppose?”
“Yes,” said Alice doubtfully: “it
means—to—make—anything—prettier.”
“Well, then,” the Gryphon went on, “if you don’t know what to
uglify is, you are a simpleton.”
Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about
it: so she turned to the Mock Turtle, and said “What else had you
to learn?”
“Well, there was Mystery,” the Mock Turtle replied, counting off
the subjects on his flappers,—“Mystery, ancient and modern, with
Seaography: then Drawling—the Drawling-master was an old
conger-eel, that used to come once a week: he taught us Drawling,
Stretching, and Fainting in Coils.”
“What was that like?” said Alice.
“Well, I ca’n’t show it you myself,” the Mock Turtle said: “I’m
too stiff. And the Gryphon never learnt it.”
“Hadn’t time,” said the Gryphon: “I went to the Classical
master, though. He was an old crab, he was.”
“I never went to him,” the Mock Turtle said with a sigh. “He
taught Laughing and Grief, they used to say.”
“So he did, so he did,” said the Gryphon, sighing in his turn;
and both creatures hid their faces in their paws.and both creatures hid their faces in their paws.
“And how many hours a day did you do lessons?” said Alice, in a
hurry to change the subject.
“Ten hours the first day,” said the Mock Turtle: “nine the next,
and so on.”
“What a curious plan!” exclaimed Alice.
“That’s the reason they’re called lessons,” the Gryphon
remarked: “because they lessen from day to day.”
This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought it over a
little before she made her next remark. “Then the eleventh day must
have been a holiday?”
“Of course it was,” said the Mock Turtle.
“And how did you manage on the twelfth?” Alice went on
eagerly.
“That’s enough about lessons,” the Gryphon interrupted in a very
decided tone. “Tell her something about the games now.”


The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper
across his eyes. He looked at Alice and tried to speak, but, for a
minute or two, sobs choked his voice. “Same as if he had a bone in
his throat,” said the Gryphon; and it set to work shaking him and
punching him in the back. At last the Mock Turtle recovered his
voice, and, with tears running down his cheeks, he went on
again:—
“You may not have lived much under the sea—” (“I haven’t,” said
Alice)—“and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster—”
(Alice began to say “I once tasted——” but checked herself hastily,
and said “No, never”) “——so you can have no idea what a delightful
thing a Lobster-Quadrille is!”
“No, indeed,” said Alice. “What sort of a dance is it?”
“Why,” said the Gryphon, “you first form into a line along the
sea-shore——”
“Two lines!” cried the Mock Turtle. “Seals, turtles, salmon, and
so on: then, when you’ve cleared all the jelly-fish out of the
way——”
“That generally takes some time,” interrupted the Gryphon.
“—you advance twice——”
“Each with a lobster as a partner!” cried the Gryphon.
“Of course,” the Mock Turtle said: “advance twice, set to
partners——”
“—change lobsters, and retire in same order,” continued the
Gryphon.
“Then, you know,” the Mock Turtle went on, “you throw the——”
“The lobsters!” shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the
air.
“—as far out to sea as you can——”
“Swim after them!” screamed the Gryphon.
“Turn a somersault in the sea!” cried the Mock Turtle, capering
wildly about.
“Change lobsters again!” yelled the Gryphon at the top of its
voice.
“Back to land again, and—that’s all the first figure,” said the
Mock Turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures,
who had been jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down
again very sadly and quietly, and looked at Alice.
“It must be a very pretty dance,” said Alice timidly.
“Would you like to see a little of it?” said the Mock
Turtle.
“Very much indeed,” said Alice.
“Come, let’s try the first figure!” said the Mock Turtle to the“Very much indeed,” said Alice.
“Come, let’s try the first figure!” said the Mock Turtle to the
Gryphon. “We can do without lobsters, you know. Which shall
sing?”
“Oh, you sing,” said the Gryphon. “I’ve forgotten the
words.”
So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now
and then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and
waving their fore-paws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang
this, very slowly and sadly:—
“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail,
“There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my
tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the
dance?
Will you, wo’n’t you, will you, wo’n’t you, will you join the
dance?
Will you, wo’n’t you, will you, wo’n’t you, wo’n’t you join the
dance?
“You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to
sea!”
But the snail replied “Too far, too far!”, and gave a look
askance—
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the
dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the
dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the
dance.
“What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied.
“There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France—
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the
dance.
Will you, wo’n’t you, will you, wo’n’t you, will you join the
dance?
Will you, wo’n’t you, will you, wo’n’t you, wo’n’t you join the
dance?”
“Thank you, it’s a very interesting dance to watch,” said Alice,
feeling very glad that it was over at last: “and I do so like that
curious song about the whiting!”
“Oh, as to the whiting,” said the Mock Turtle, “they—you’ve seen
them, of course?”
“Yes,” said Alice, “I’ve often seen them at dinn——” she checked
herself hastily.
“I don’t know where Dinn may be,” said the Mock Turtle; “but, ifherself hastily.
“I don’t know where Dinn may be,” said the Mock Turtle; “but, if
you’ve seen them so often, of course you know what they’re
like?”
“I believe so,” Alice replied thoughtfully. “They have their
tails in their mouths—and they’re all over crumbs.”
“You’re wrong about the crumbs,” said the Mock Turtle: “crumbs
would all wash off in the sea. But they have their tails in their
mouths; and the reason is——” here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut
his eyes. “Tell her about the reason and all that,” he said to the
Gryphon.
“The reason is,” said the Gryphon, “that they would go with the
lobsters to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had
to fall a long way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths.
So they couldn’t get them out again. That’s all.”
“Thank you,” said Alice, “it’s very interesting. I never knew so
much about a whiting before.”
“I can tell you more than that, if you like,” said the Gryphon.
“Do you know why it’s called a whiting?”
“I never thought about it,” said Alice. “Why?”
“It does the boots and shoes,” the Gryphon replied very
solemnly.
Alice was thoroughly puzzled. “Does the boots and shoes!” she
repeated in a wondering tone.
“Why, what are your shoes done with?” said the Gryphon. “I mean,
what makes them so shiny?”
Alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she
gave her answer. “They’re done with blacking, I believe.”
“Boots and shoes under the sea,” the Gryphon went on in a deep
voice, “are done with whiting. Now you know.”
“And what are they made of?” Alice asked in a tone of great
curiosity.
“Soles and eels, of course,” the Gryphon replied rather
impatiently: “any shrimp could have told you that.”
“If I’d been the whiting,” said Alice, whose thoughts were still
running on the song, “I’d have said to the porpoise, ‘Keep back,
please! We don’t want you with us!’”
“They were obliged to have him with them,” the Mock Turtle said.
“No wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.”
“Wouldn’t it really?” said Alice in a tone of great
surprise.


“Wouldn’t it really?” said Alice in a tone of great
surprise.
“Of course not,” said the Mock Turtle. “Why, if a fish came to
me, and told me he was going a journey, I should say ‘With what
porpoise?’”
“Don’t you mean ‘purpose’?” said Alice.
“I mean what I say,” the Mock Turtle replied in an offended
tone. And the Gryphon added “Come, let’s hear some of your
adventures.”
“I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,”
said Alice a little timidly; “but it’s no use going back to
yesterday, because I was a different person then.”
“Explain all that,” said the Mock Turtle.
“No, no! The adventures first,” said the Gryphon in an impatient
tone: “explanations take such a dreadful time.”
So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when
she first saw the White Rabbit. She was a little nervous about it,
just at first, the two creatures got so close to her, one on each
side, and opened their eyes and mouths so very wide; but she gained
courage as she went on. Her listeners were perfectly quiet till she
got to the part about her repeating “You are old, Father William,”
to the Caterpillar, and the words all coming different, and then
the Mock Turtle drew a long breath, and said “That’s very
curious.”
“It’s all about as curious as it can be,” said the Gryphon.
“It all came different!” the Mock Turtle repeated thoughtfully.
“I should like to hear her try and repeat something now. Tell her
to begin.” He looked at the Gryphon as if he thought it had some
kind of authority over Alice.
“Stand up and repeat ‘’Tis the voice of the sluggard,’” said the
Gryphon.
“How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat
lessons!” thought Alice; “I might as well be at school at once.”
However, she got up, and began to repeat it, but her head was so
full of the Lobster-Quadrille, that she hardly knew what she was
saying, and the words came very queer indeed:—
“’Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare
‘You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.’
As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his noseAs a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.
[later editions continued as follows:
When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,
And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark:
But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,
His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.”]
“That’s different from what I used to say when I was a child,”
said the Gryphon.
“Well, I never heard it before,” said the Mock Turtle; “but it
sounds uncommon nonsense.”
Alice said nothing: she had sat down with her face in her hands,
wondering if anything would ever happen in a natural way again.
“I should like to have it explained,” said the Mock Turtle.
“She ca’n’t explain it,” said the Gryphon hastily. “Go on with
the next verse.”
“But about his toes?” the Mock Turtle persisted. “How could he
turn them out with his nose, you know?”
“It’s the first position in dancing.” Alice said; but was
dreadfully puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the
subject.
“Go on with the next verse,” the Gryphon repeated impatiently:
“it begins ‘I passed by his garden.’”
Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all
come wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:—
“I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,
How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie:
[later editions continued as follows:
The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,
While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.
When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,
Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon:
While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,
And concluded the banquet by——”]
“What is the use of repeating all that stuff,” the Mock Turtle
interrupted, “if you don’t explain it as you go on? It’s by far the
most confusing thing I ever heard!”
“Yes, I think you’d better leave off,” said the Gryphon, and
Alice was only too glad to do so.
“Shall we try another figure of the Lobster-Quadrille?” the
Gryphon went on. “Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you
another song?”Gryphon went on. “Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you
another song?”
“Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind,” Alice
replied, so eagerly that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended
tone, “Hm! No accounting for tastes! Sing her ‘Turtle Soup,’ will
you, old fellow?”
The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice choked with
sobs, to sing this:—
“Beautiful Soup, so rich and green,
Waiting in a hot tureen!
Who for such dainties would not stoop?
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
Beautiful, beautiful Soup!
“Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish,
Game, or any other dish?
Who would not give all else for two
Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
Beautiful, beauti—FUL SOUP!”
“Chorus again!” cried the Gryphon, and the Mock Turtle had just
begun to repeat it, when a cry of “The trial’s beginning!” was
heard in the distance.
“Come on!” cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand, it
hurried off, without waiting for the end of the song.
“What trial is it?” Alice panted as she ran; but the Gryphon
only answered “Come on!” and ran the faster, while more and more
faintly came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the
melancholy words:—
“Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
Beautiful, beautiful Soup!”


The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when
they arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them—all sorts of
little birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the
Knave was standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each
side to guard him; and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a
trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the
very middle of the court was a table, with a large dish of tarts
upon it: they looked so good, that it made Alice quite hungry to
look at them—“I wish they’d get the trial done,” she thought, “and
hand round the refreshments!” But there seemed to be no chance of
this; so she began looking at everything about her to pass away the
time.
Alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had
read about them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that
she knew the name of nearly everything there. “That’s the judge,”
she said to herself, “because of his great wig.”
The judge, by the way, was the King; and as he wore his crown
over the wig, (look at the frontispiece if you want to see how he
did it), he did not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly
not becoming.
“And that’s the jury-box,” thought Alice; “and those twelve
creatures,” (she was obliged to say “creatures,” you see, because
some of them were animals, and some were birds,) “I suppose they
are the jurors.” She said this last word two or three times over to
herself, being rather proud of it: for she thought, and rightly
too, that very few little girls of her age knew the meaning of it
at all. However, “jurymen” would have done just as well.
The twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates. “What
are they doing?” Alice whispered to the Gryphon. “They ca’n’t have
anything to put down yet, before the trial’s begun.”
“They’re putting down their names,” the Gryphon whispered in
reply, “for fear they should forget them before the end of the
trial.”
“Stupid things!” Alice began in a loud, indignant voice; but shetrial.”
“Stupid things!” Alice began in a loud, indignant voice; but she
stopped hastily, for the White Rabbit cried out, “Silence in the
court!”, and the King put on his spectacles and looked anxiously
round, to make out who was talking.
Alice could see, as well as if she were looking over their
shoulders, that all the jurors were writing down “Stupid things!”
on their slates, and she could even make out that one of them
didn’t know how to spell “stupid,” and that he had to ask his
neighbour to tell him. “A nice muddle their slates’ll be in before
the trial’s over!” thought Alice.
One of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. This, of course,
Alice could not stand, and she went round the court and got behind
him, and very soon found an opportunity of taking it away. She did
it so quickly that the poor little juror (it was Bill, the Lizard)
could not make out at all what had become of it; so, after hunting
all about for it, he was obliged to write with one finger for the
rest of the day; and this was of very little use, as it left no
mark on the slate.
“Herald, read the accusation!” said the King.
On this the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and
then unrolled the parchment-scroll, and read as follows:—
“The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts,
All on a summer day:
The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts,
And took them quite away!”
“Consider your verdict,” the King said to the jury.
“Not yet, not yet!” the Rabbit hastily interrupted. “There’s a
great deal to come before that!”
“Call the first witness,” said the King; and the White Rabbit
blew three blasts on the trumpet, and called out, “First
witness!”
The first witness was the Hatter. He came in with a teacup in
one hand and a piece of bread-and-butter in the other. “I beg
pardon, your Majesty,” he began, “for bringing these in; but I
hadn’t quite finished my tea when I was sent for.”
“You ought to have finished,” said the King. “When did you
begin?”
The Hatter looked at the March Hare, who had followed him intobegin?”
The Hatter looked at the March Hare, who had followed him into
the court, arm-in-arm with the Dormouse. “Fourteenth of March, I
think it was,” he said.
“Fifteenth,” said the March Hare.
“Sixteenth,” said the Dormouse.
“Write that down,” the King said to the jury; and the jury
eagerly wrote down all three dates on their slates, and then added
them up, and reduced the answer to shillings and pence.
“Take off your hat,” the King said to the Hatter.
“It isn’t mine,” said the Hatter.
“Stolen!” the King exclaimed, turning to the jury, who instantly
made a memorandum of the fact.
“I keep them to sell,” the Hatter added as an explanation. “I’ve
none of my own. I’m a hatter.”
Here the Queen put on her spectacles, and began staring hard at
the Hatter, who turned pale and fidgeted.
“Give your evidence,” said the King; “and don’t be nervous, or
I’ll have you executed on the spot.”
This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept
shifting from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen,
and in his confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead
of the bread-and-butter.
Just at this moment Alice felt a very curious sensation, which
puzzled her a good deal until she made out what it was: she was
beginning to grow larger again, and she thought at first she would
get up and leave the court; but on second thoughts she decided to
remain where she was as long as there was room for her.
“I wish you wouldn’t squeeze so.” said the Dormouse, who was
sitting next to her. “I can hardly breathe.”
“I ca’n’t help it,” said Alice very meekly: “I’m growing.”
“You’ve no right to grow here,” said the Dormouse.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” said Alice more boldly: “you know you’re
growing too.”
“Yes, but I grow at a reasonable pace,” said the Dormouse: “not
in that ridiculous fashion.” And he got up very sulkily and crossed
over to the other side of the court.
All this time the Queen had never left off staring at the
Hatter, and, just as the Dormouse crossed the court, she said, to


Hatter, and, just as the Dormouse crossed the court, she said, to
one of the officers of the court, “Bring me the list of the singers
in the last concert!” on which the wretched Hatter trembled so,
that he shook off both his shoes.
“Give your evidence,” the King repeated angrily, “or I’ll have
you executed, whether you are nervous or not.”
“I’m a poor man, your Majesty,” the Hatter began, in a trembling
voice, “—and I hadn’t begun my tea—not above a week or so—and what
with the bread-and-butter getting so thin—and the twinkling of the
tea——”
“The twinkling of what?” said the King.
“It began with the tea,” the Hatter replied.
“Of course twinkling begins with a T!” said the King sharply.
“Do you take me for a dunce? Go on!”
“I’m a poor man,” the Hatter went on, “and most things twinkled
after that—only the March Hare said——”
“I didn’t!” the March Hare interrupted in a great hurry.
“You did!” said the Hatter.
“I deny it!” said the March Hare.
“He denies it,” said the King: “leave out that part.”
“Well, at any rate, the Dormouse said——” the Hatter went on,
looking anxiously round to see if he would deny it too; but the
Dormouse denied nothing, being fast asleep.
“After that,” continued the Hatter, “I cut some more
bread-and-butter——”
“But what did the Dormouse say?” one of the jury asked.
“That I ca’n’t remember,” said the Hatter.
“You must remember,” remarked the King, “or I’ll have you
executed.”
The miserable Hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter,
and went down on one knee. “I’m a poor man, your Majesty,” he
began.
“You’re a very poor speaker,” said the King.
Here one of the guinea-pigs cheered, and was immediately
suppressed by the officers of the court. (As that is rather a hard
word, I will just explain to you how it was done. They had a large
canvas bag, which tied up at the mouth with strings: into this they
slipped the guinea-pig, head first, and then sat upon it.)
“I’m glad I’ve seen that done,” thought Alice. “I’ve so often
read in the newspapers, at the end of trials, ‘There was someread in the newspapers, at the end of trials, ‘There was some
attempt at applause, which was immediately suppressed by the
officers of the court,’ and I never understood what it meant till
now.”
“If that’s all you know about it, you may stand down,” continued
the King.
“I can’t go no lower,” said the Hatter: “I’m on the floor, as it
is.”
“Then you may sit down,” the King replied.
Here the other guinea-pig cheered, and was suppressed.
“Come, that finishes the guinea-pigs!” thought Alice. “Now we
shall get on better.”
“I’d rather finish my tea,” said the Hatter, with an anxious
look at the Queen, who was reading the list of singers.
“You may go,” said the King, and the Hatter hurriedly left the
court, without even waiting to put his shoes on.
“——and just take his head off outside,” the Queen added to one
of the officers; but the Hatter was out of sight before the officer
could get to the door.
“Call the next witness!” said the King.
The next witness was the Duchess’s cook. She carried the
pepper-box in her hand, and Alice guessed who it was, even before
she got into the court, by the way the people near the door began
sneezing all at once.
“Give your evidence,” said the King.
“Sha’n’t,” said the cook.
The King looked anxiously at the White Rabbit, who said, in a
low voice, “Your Majesty must cross-examine this witness.”
“Well, if I must, I must,” the King said with a melancholy air,
and, after folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes
were nearly out of sight, he said, in a deep voice, “What are tarts
made of?”
“Pepper, mostly,” said the cook.
“Treacle,” said a sleepy voice behind her.
“Collar that Dormouse,” the Queen shrieked out. “Behead that
Dormouse! Turn that Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him!
Off with his whiskers!”
For some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the
Dormouse turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again,
the cook had disappeared.
“Never mind!” said the King, with an air of great relief. “Callthe cook had disappeared.
“Never mind!” said the King, with an air of great relief. “Call
the next witness.” And, he added, in an under-tone to the Queen,
“Really, my dear, you must cross-examine the next witness. It quite
makes my forehead ache!”
Alice watched the White Rabbit as he fumbled over the list,
feeling very curious to see what the next witness would be like,
“—for they haven’t got much evidence yet,” she said to herself.
Imagine her surprise, when the White Rabbit read out, at the top of
his shrill little voice, the name “Alice!”“Here!” cried Alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the
moment how large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she
jumped up in such a hurry that she tipped over the jury-box with
the edge of her skirt, upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of
the crowd below, and there they lay sprawling about, reminding her
very much of a globe of gold-fish she had accidentally upset the
week before.
“Oh, I beg your pardon!” she exclaimed in a tone of great
dismay, and began picking them up again as quickly as she could,
for the accident of the gold-fish kept running in her head, and she
had a vague sort of idea that they must be collected at once and
put back into the jury-box, or they would die.
“The trial cannot proceed,” said the King, in a very grave
voice, “until all the jurymen are back in their proper places—all,”
he repeated with great emphasis, looking hard at Alice as he said
so.
Alice looked at the jury-box, and saw that, in her haste, she
had put the Lizard in head downwards, and the poor little thing was
waving its tail about in a melancholy way, being quite unable to
move. She soon got it out again, and put it right; “not that it
signifies much,” she said to herself; “I should think it would be
quite as much use in the trial one way up as the other.”
As soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of
being upset, and their slates and pencils had been found and handed
back to them, they set to work very diligently to write out a
history of the accident, all except the Lizard, who seemed too much
overcome to do anything but sit with its mouth open, gazing up into
the roof of the court.
“What do you know about this business?” the King said to
Alice.
“Nothing,” said Alice.
“Nothing whatever?” persisted the King.
“Nothing whatever,” said Alice.
“That’s very important,” the King said, turning to the jury.
They were just beginning to write this down on their slates, when
the White Rabbit interrupted: “Unimportant, your Majesty means, of


the White Rabbit interrupted: “Unimportant, your Majesty means, of
course,” he said, in a very respectful tone, but frowning and
making faces at him as he spoke.
“Unimportant, of course, I meant,” the King hastily said, and
went on to himself in an under-tone,
“important—unimportant—unimportant—important——” as if he were
trying which word sounded best.
Some of the jury wrote it down “important,” and some
“unimportant.” Alice could see this, as she was near enough to look
over their slates; “but it doesn’t matter a bit,” she thought to
herself.
At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily
writing in his note-book, called out “Silence!”, and read out from
his book, “Rule Forty-two. All persons more than a mile high to
leave the court.”
Everybody looked at Alice.
“I’m not a mile high,” said Alice.
“You are,” said the King.
“Nearly two miles high,” added the Queen.
“Well, I sha’n’t go, at any rate,” said Alice: “besides, that’s
not a regular rule: you invented it just now.”
“It’s the oldest rule in the book,” said the King.
“Then it ought to be Number One,” said Alice.
The King turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily. “Consider
your verdict,” he said to the jury, in a low trembling voice.
“There’s more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty,” said
the White Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry: “this paper has just
been picked up.”
“What’s in it?” said the Queen.
“I haven’t opened it yet,” said the White Rabbit; “but it seems
to be a letter, written by the prisoner to—to somebody.”
“It must have been that,” said the King, “unless it was written
to nobody, which isn’t usual, you know.”
“Who is it directed to?” said one of the jurymen.
“It isn’t directed at all,” said the White Rabbit: “in fact,
there’s nothing written on the outside.” He unfolded the paper as
he spoke, and added “It isn’t a letter, after all: it’s a set of
verses.”
“Are they in the prisoner’s handwriting?” asked another of the
jurymen.
“No, they’re not,” said the White Rabbit, “and that’s thejurymen.
“No, they’re not,” said the White Rabbit, “and that’s the
queerest thing about it.” (The jury all looked puzzled.)
“He must have imitated somebody else’s hand,” said the King.
(The jury all brightened up again.)
“Please your Majesty,” said the Knave, “I didn’t write it, and
they ca’n’t prove that I did: there’s no name signed at the
end.”
“If you didn’t sign it,” said the King, “that only makes the
matter worse. You must have meant some mischief, or else you’d have
signed your name like an honest man.”
There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first
really clever thing the King had said that day.
“That proves his guilt, of course,” said the Queen: “so, off
with——.”
“It doesn’t prove anything of the sort!” said Alice. “Why, you
don’t even know what they’re about!”
“Read them,” said the King.
The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. “Where shall I begin,
please your Majesty?” he asked.
“Begin at the beginning,” the King said, very gravely, “and go
on till you come to the end: then stop.”
There was dead silence in the court, whilst the White Rabbit
read out these verses:—
“They told me you had been to her,
And mentioned me to him:
She gave me a good character,
But said I could not swim.
He sent them word I had not gone
(We know it to be true):
If she should push the matter on,
What would become of you?
I gave her one, they gave him two,
You gave us three or more;
They all returned from him to you,
Though they were mine before.
If I or she should chance to be
Involved in this affair,
He trusts to you to set them free,
Exactly as we were.
My notion was that you had been
(Before she had this fit)
An obstacle that came between
Him, and ourselves, and it.
Don’t let him know she liked them best,
For this must ever be
A secret, kept from all the rest,
Between yourself and me.”
“That’s the most important piece of evidence we’ve heard yet,”
said the King, rubbing his hands; “so now let the jury——”
“If any one of them can explain it,” said Alice, (she had grown“If any one of them can explain it,” said Alice, (she had grown
so large in the last few minutes that she wasn't a bit afraid of
interrupting him,) “I’ll give him sixpence. I don't believe there’s
an atom of meaning in it.”
The jury all wrote down, on their slates, “She doesn’t believe
there’s an atom of meaning in it,” but none of them attempted to
explain the paper.
“If there’s no meaning in it,” said the King, “that saves a
world of trouble, you know, as we needn’t try to find any. And yet
I don’t know,” he went on, spreading out the verses on his knee,
and looking at them with one eye; “I seem to see some meaning in
them, after all. ‘—said I could not swim—’ you ca’n’t swim, can
you?” he added, turning to the Knave.
The Knave shook his head sadly. “Do I look like it?” he said.
(Which he certainly did not, being made entirely of cardboard.)
“All right, so far,” said the King; and he went on muttering
over the verses to himself: “‘We know it to be true’—that’s the
jury, of course—‘If she should push the matter on’—that must be the
Queen—‘What would become of you?’—What, indeed!—‘I gave her one,
they gave him two’—why, that must be what he did with the tarts,
you know——”
“But it goes on ‘they all returned from him to you,’” said
Alice.
“Why, there they are!” said the King triumphantly, pointing to
the tarts on the table. “Nothing can be clearer than that. Then
again—‘before she had this fit’—you never had fits, my dear, I
think?” he said to the Queen.
“Never!” said the Queen, furiously, throwing an inkstand at the
Lizard as she spoke. (The unfortunate little Bill had left off
writing on his slate with one finger, as he found it made no mark;
but he now hastily began again, using the ink, that was trickling
down his face, as long as it lasted.)
“Then the words don’t fit you,” said the King, looking round the
court with a smile. There was a dead silence.
“It’s a pun!” the King added in an angry tone, and everybody
laughed. “Let the jury consider their verdict,” the King said, for


laughed. “Let the jury consider their verdict,” the King said, for
about the twentieth time that day.
“No, no!” said the Queen. “Sentence first—verdict
afterwards.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” said Alice loudly. “The idea of having the
sentence first!”
“Hold your tongue!” said the Queen, turning purple.
“I wo’n’t!” said Alice.
“Off with her head!” the Queen shouted at the top of her voice.
Nobody moved.
“Who cares for you?” said Alice (she had grown to her full size
by this time). “You’re nothing but a pack of cards!”
At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying
down upon her; she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of
anger, and tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the
bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently
brushing away some dead leaves that had fluttered down from the
trees upon her face.
“Wake up, Alice dear!” said her sister; “Why, what a long sleep
you’ve had!”
“Oh, I’ve had such a curious dream!” said Alice. And she told
her sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange
Adventures of hers that you have just been reading about; and, when
she had finished, her sister kissed her, and said, “It was a
curious dream, dear, certainly; but now run in to your tea: it’s
getting late.” So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran,
as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had been.
But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head
on her hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice
and all her wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after
a fashion, and this was her dream:—
First, she dreamed about little Alice herself: once again the
tiny hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes
were looking up into hers—she could hear the very tones of her
voice, and see that queer little toss of her head to keep back the
wandering hair that would always get into her eyes—and still as she
listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her becamelistened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became
alive the strange creatures of her little sister’s dream.
The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried
by—the frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring
pool—she could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and
his friends shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of
the Queen ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution—once
more the pig-baby was sneezing on the Duchess’s knee, while plates
and dishes crashed around it—once more the shriek of the Gryphon,
the squeaking of the Lizard’s slate-pencil, and the choking of the
suppressed guinea-pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the distant
sob of the miserable Mock Turtle.
So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in
Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all
would change to dull reality—the grass would be only rustling in
the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds—the
rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the
Queen’s shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy—and the
sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other
queer noises, would change (she knew) to the confused clamour of
the busy farm-yard—while the lowing of the cattle in the distance
would take the place of the Mock Turtle’s heavy sobs.
Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of
hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how
she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving
heart of her childhood; and how she would gather about her other
little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a
strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long
ago; and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find
a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own
child-life, and the happy summer days.


3 May. Bistritz. —Left Munich at 8:35 P. M, on 1st May, arriving
at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but
train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from
the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could
walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station,
as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as
possible.
The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and
entering the East; the most western of splendid bridges over the
Danube, which is here of noble width and depth, took us among the
traditions of Turkish rule.
We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to
Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I
had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with
red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Mem. get recipe for
Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called "paprika
hendl," and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to
get it anywhere along the Carpathians.
I found my smattering of German very useful here, indeed, I
don't know how I should be able to get on without it.
Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had
visited the British Museum, and made search among the books and
maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that
some foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some
importance in dealing with a nobleman of that country.
I find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the
country, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania,
Moldavia, and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian mountains;
one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe.
I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact
locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this
country as yet to compare with our own Ordance Survey Maps; but I
found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a
fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, asfairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as
they may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with
Mina.
In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct
nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the
Wallachs, who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the
West, and Szekelys in the East and North. I am going among the
latter, who claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns. This
may be so, for when the Magyars conquered the country in the
eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it.
I read that every known superstition in the world is gathered
into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of
some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very
interesting. (Mem., I must ask the Count all about them.)
I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for
I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night
under my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it
may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in
my carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was
wakened by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must
have been sleeping soundly then.
I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of
maize flour which they said was "mamaliga", and egg-plant stuffed
with forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they call "impletata".
(Mem.,get recipe for this also.)
I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a little before
eight, or rather it ought to have done so, for after rushing to the
station at 7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour
before we began to move.
It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual
are the trains. What ought they to be in China?
All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was
full of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or
castles on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals;castles on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals;
sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide
stony margin on each side of them to be subject of great floods. It
takes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the outside edge
of a river clear.
At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds,
and in all sorts of attire. Some of them were just like the
peasants at home or those I saw coming through France and Germany,
with short jackets, and round hats, and home-made trousers; but
others were very picturesque.
The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they
were very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white sleeves
of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of
strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a
ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them.
The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more
barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy
dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy
leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass
nails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them,
and had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very
picturesque, but do not look prepossessing. On the stage they would
be set down at once as some old Oriental band of brigands. They
are, however, I am told, very harmless and rather wanting in
natural self-assertion.
It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz,
which is a very interesting old place. Being practically on the
frontier—for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina—it has had
a very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty
years ago a series of great fires took place, which made terrible
havoc on five separate occasions. At the very beginning of the
seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost
13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by
famine and disease.


13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by
famine and disease.
Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel,
which I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned,
for of course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the
country.
I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a
cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress—white
undergarment with a long double apron, front, and back, of coloured
stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came close she
bowed and said, "The Herr Englishman?"
"Yes," I said, "Jonathan Harker."
She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white
shirt-sleeves, who had followed her to the door.
He went, but immediately returned with a letter:
"My friend.—Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting
you. Sleep well tonight. At three tomorrow the diligence will start
for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my
carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your
journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy
your stay in my beautiful land.—Your friend, Dracula."
4 May—I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count,
directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on
making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and
pretended that he could not understand my German.
This could not be true, because up to then he had understood it
perfectly; at least, he answered my questions exactly as if he
did.
He and his wife, the old lady who had received me, looked at
each other in a frightened sort of way. He mumbled out that the
money had been sent in a letter, and that was all he knew. When I
asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of
his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying
that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak further. It
was so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask anyonewas so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask anyone
else, for it was all very mysterious and not by any means
comforting.
Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and
said in a hysterical way: "Must you go? Oh! Young Herr, must you
go?" She was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost
her grip of what German she knew, and mixed it all up with some
other language which I did not know at all. I was just able to
follow her by asking many questions. When I told her that I must go
at once, and that I was engaged on important business, she asked
again:
"Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth
of May. She shook her head as she said again:
"Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what day it
is?"
On my saying that I did not understand, she went on:
"It is the eve of St. George's Day. Do you not know that
to-night, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in
the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and
what you are going to?" She was in such evident distress that I
tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally, she went down on
her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two
before starting.
It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable.
However, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing
to interfere with it.
I tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I
thanked her, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go.
She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her
neck offered it to me.
I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have
been taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous,
and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so
well and in such a state of mind.
She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary
round my neck and said, "For your mother's sake," and went out of
the room.
I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waiting forthe room.
I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waiting for
the coach, which is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still
round my neck.
Whether it is the old lady's fear, or the many ghostly
traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know,
but I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual.
If this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my
good-bye. Here comes the coach!
5 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


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 thestraggling 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,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.
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 latelying 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


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 easternAnd 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."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 hardlooking
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


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 theirthem.
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 watchso 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, Ito 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.


5 May.—I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had been
fully awake I must have noticed the approach of such a remarkable
place. In the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable size, and
as several dark ways led from it under great round arches, it
perhaps seemed bigger than it really is. I have not yet been able
to see it by daylight.
When the caleche stopped, the driver jumped down and held out
his hand to assist me to alight. Again I could not but notice his
prodigious strength. His hand actually seemed like a steel vice
that could have crushed mine if he had chosen. Then he took my
traps, and placed them on the ground beside me as I stood close to
a great door, old and studded with large iron nails, and set in a
projecting doorway of massive stone. I could see even in the dim
light that the stone was massively carved, but that the carving had
been much worn by time and weather. As I stood, the driver jumped
again into his seat and shook the reins. The horses started
forward, and trap and all disappeared down one of the dark
openings.
I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what to do.
Of bell or knocker there was no sign. Through these frowning walls
and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could
penetrate. The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and
fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among
what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I
had embarked? Was this a customary incident in the life of a
solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London
estate to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that.
Solicitor, for just before leaving London I got word that my
examination was successful, and I am now a full-blown solicitor! I
began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It
all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I
should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn
struggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt instruggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in
the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the
pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed
awake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be
patient, and to wait the coming of morning.
Just as I had come to this conclusion I heard a heavy step
approaching behind the great door, and saw through the chinks the
gleam of a coming light. Then there was the sound of rattling
chains and the clanking of massive bolts drawn back. A key was
turned with the loud grating noise of long disuse, and the great
door swung back.
Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white
moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single
speck of colour about him anywhere. He held in his hand an antique
silver lamp, in which the flame burned without a chimney or globe
of any kind, throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the
draught of the open door. The old man motioned me in with his right
hand with a courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with
a strange intonation.
"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own free will!"
He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue,
as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. The
instant, however, that I had stepped over the threshold, he moved
impulsively forward, and holding out his hand grasped mine with a
strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by
the fact that it seemed cold as ice, more like the hand of a dead
than a living man. Again he said.
"Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave
something of the happiness you bring!" The strength of the
handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the
driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if
it were not the same person to whom I was speaking. So to make
sure, I said interrogatively, "Count Dracula?"
He bowed in a courtly was as he replied, "I am Dracula, and IHe bowed in a courtly was as he replied, "I am Dracula, and I
bid you welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house. Come in, the night air is
chill, and you must need to eat and rest."As he was speaking, he
put the lamp on a bracket on the wall, and stepping out, took my
luggage. He had carried it in before I could forestall him. I
protested, but he insisted.
"Nay, sir, you are my guest. It is late, and my people are not
available. Let me see to your comfort myself."He insisted on
carrying my traps along the passage, and then up a great winding
stair, and along another great passage, on whose stone floor our
steps rang heavily. At the end of this he threw open a heavy door,
and I rejoiced to see within a well-lit room in which a table was
spread for supper, and on whose mighty hearth a great fire of logs,
freshly replenished, flamed and flared.
The Count halted, putting down my bags, closed the door, and
crossing the room, opened another door, which led into a small
octagonal room lit by a single lamp, and seemingly without a window
of any sort. Passing through this, he opened another door, and
motioned me to enter. It was a welcome sight. For here was a great
bedroom well lighted and warmed with another log fire, also added
to but lately, for the top logs were fresh, which sent a hollow
roar up the wide chimney. The Count himself left my luggage inside
and withdrew, saying, before he closed the door.
"You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by
making your toilet. I trust you will find all you wish. When you
are ready, come into the other room, where you will find your
supper prepared."
The light and warmth and the Count's courteous welcome seemed to
have dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having then reached my
normal state, I discovered that I was half famished with hunger. So
making a hasty toilet, I went into the other room.
I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on one side
of the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, made a
graceful wave of his hand to the table, and said,


graceful wave of his hand to the table, and said,
"I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will I trust,
excuse me that I do not join you, but I have dined already, and I
do not sup."
I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had
entrusted to me. He opened it and read it gravely. Then, with a
charming smile, he handed it to me to read. One passage of it, at
least, gave me a thrill of pleasure.
"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a
constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for
some time to come. But I am happy to say I can send a sufficient
substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a
young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very
faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into
manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you
will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all
matters."
The count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish,
and I fell to at once on an excellent roast chicken. This, with
some cheese and a salad and a bottle of old tokay, of which I had
two glasses, was my supper. During the time I was eating it the
Count asked me many question as to my journey, and I told him by
degrees all I had experienced.
By this time I had finished my supper, and by my host's desire
had drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigar which
he offered me, at the same time excusing himself that he did not
smoke. I had now an opportunity of observing him, and found him of
a very marked physiognomy.
His face was a strong, a very strong, aquiline, with high bridge
of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils, with lofty domed
forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely
elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the
nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion.
The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, wasThe mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was
fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth.
These protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed
astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears
were pale, and at the tops extremely pointed. The chin was broad
and strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was
one of extraordinary pallor.
Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his
knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine.
But seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they
were rather coarse, broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say,
there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and
fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his
hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been
that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came
over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.
The Count, evidently noticing it, drew back. And with a grim
sort of smile, which showed more than he had yet done his
protruberant teeth, sat himself down again on his own side of the
fireplace. We were both silent for a while, and as I looked towards
the window I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There
seemed a strange stillness over everything. But as I listened, I
heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many
wolves. The Count's eyes gleamed, and he said.
"Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they
make!" Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to
him, he added,"Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into
the feelings of the hunter." Then he rose and said.
"But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and tomorrow
you shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be away till the
afternoon, so sleep well and dream well!" With a courteous bow, he
opened for me himself the door to the octagonal room, and I entered
my bedroom.opened for me himself the door to the octagonal room, and I entered
my bedroom.
I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt. I fear. I think strange
things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if
only for the sake of those dear to me!
7 May.—It is again early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed
the last twenty-four hours. I slept till late in the day, and awoke
of my own accord. When I had dressed myself I went into the room
where we had supped, and found a cold breakfast laid out, with
coffee kept hot by the pot being placed on the hearth. There was a
card on the table, on which was written—
"I have to be absent for a while. Do not wait for me. D." I set
to and enjoyed a hearty meal. When I had done, I looked for a bell,
so that I might let the servants know I had finished, but I could
not find one. There are certainly odd deficiencies in the house,
considering the extraordinary evidences of wealth which are round
me. The table service is of gold, and so beautifully wrought that
it must be of immense value. The curtains and upholstery of the
chairs and sofas and the hangings of my bed are of the costliest
and most beautiful fabrics, and must have been of fabulous value
when they were made, for they are centuries old, though in
excellent order. I saw something like them in Hampton Court, but
they were worn and frayed and moth-eaten. But still in none of the
rooms is there a mirror. There is not even a toilet glass on my
table, and I had to get the little shaving glass from my bag before
I could either shave or brush my hair. I have not yet seen a
servant anywhere, or heard a sound near the castle except the
howling of wolves. Some time after I had finished my meal, I do not
know whether to call it breakfast of dinner, for it was between
five and six o'clock when I had it, I looked about for something to
read, for I did not like to go about the castle until I had asked
the Count's permission. There was absolutely nothing in the room,
book, newspaper, or even writing materials, so I opened another