Chapter 16

After Dracula transforms her into a vampire, Lucy begins feeding on the children near Whitby. Paradoxically, Arthur, Dr. Seward, Quincey, and Van Helsing attempt to end the violence by staking her. Like much of Bram Stoker’s text, the chapter is rife with erotic undertones that interact with its violent action in disturbing and culturally revealing ways. What does the conflation of eroticism and fatal violence imply of Victorian society?

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            <titleStmt>
                <title>Chapter Sixteen, Bram Stoker's Dracula</title>
                <author>
                    <persName>Sari Dale</persName>
                </author>
            </titleStmt>
            <publicationStmt>
                <ab><date when="2019-04-04"/></ab>
                <ab><orgName>ENGL305/DIHU301</orgName></ab>
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            <sourceDesc>
                <bibl> Stoker, Bram. The Project Gutenberg Ebook of Dracula. 2013.</bibl>
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        <body>
            <head>Chapter XVI</head>
            <div type="passage">
                <head>Continued from <persName ref="#Dr.Seward">Dr. Seward's</persName> Diary,
                        <date>September 29th</date></head>
                <p>It was just a quarter before twelve o’clock when we got into the churchyard over
                    the low wall. The night was dark with occasional gleams of moonlight between the
                    rents of the heavy clouds that scudded across the sky. We all kept somehow close
                    together, with <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</persName> slightly in
                    front as he led the way. When we had come close to the tomb I looked well at
                        <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> for I feared that the proximity to
                    a place laden with so sorrowful a memory would upset him; but he bore himself
                    well. I took it that the very mystery of the proceeding was in some way a
                    counteractant to his grief. The <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Professor</persName>
                    unlocked the door, and seeing a natural hesitation amongst us for various
                    reasons, solved the difficulty by entering first himself. The rest of us
                    followed, and he closed the door. He then lit a dark lantern and pointed to the
                    coffin. <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> stepped forward hesitatingly;
                        <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</persName> said to me:—</p>
                <p>“You were with me here yesterday. Was the body of <persName ref="#Lucy">Miss
                        Lucy</persName> in that coffin?”</p>
                <p>“It was.” The <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Professor</persName> turned to the rest
                    saying:—</p>
                <p>“You hear; and yet there is no one who does not believe with me.” He took his
                    screwdriver and again took off the lid of the coffin. <persName ref="#Arthur"
                        >Arthur</persName> looked on, very pale but silent; when the lid was removed
                    he stepped forward. He evidently did not know that there was a leaden coffin,
                    or, at any rate, had not thought of it. When he saw the rent in the lead, the
                        <ref target="#violenterotic">blood</ref> rushed to his face for an instant,
                    but as quickly fell away again, so that he remained of a ghastly whiteness; he
                    was still silent. <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</persName> forced back
                    the leaden flange, and we all looked in and recoiled.</p>
                <p>The coffin was empty!</p>
                <p>For several minutes no one spoke a word. The silence was broken by <persName
                        ref="Quincey">Quincey Morris</persName>:—</p>
                <p>“<persName ref="#VanHelsing">Professor</persName>, I answered for you. Your word
                    is all I want. I wouldn’t ask such a thing ordinarily—I wouldn’t so dishonour
                    you as to imply a doubt; but this is a mystery that goes beyond any honour or
                    dishonour. Is this your doing?”</p>
                <p>“I swear to you by all that I hold sacred that I have not removed nor touched
                    her. What happened was this: Two nights ago my friend Seward and I came
                    here—with good purpose, believe me. I opened that coffin, which was then sealed
                    up, and we found it, as now, empty. We then waited, and saw something white come
                    through the trees. The next day we came here in day-time, and she lay there. Did
                    she not, friend John?”</p>
                <p>“Yes.”</p>
                <p>“That night we were just in time. One more so small child was missing, and we
                    find it, thank God, unharmed amongst the graves. Yesterday I came here before
                    sundown, for at sundown the Un-Dead can move. I waited here all the night till
                    the sun rose, but I saw nothing. It was most probable that it was because I had
                    laid over the clamps of those doors garlic, which the Un-Dead cannot bear, and
                    other things which they shun. Last night there was no exodus, so to-night before
                    the sundown I took away my garlic and other things. And so it is we find this
                    coffin empty. But bear with me. So far there is much that is strange. Wait you
                    with me outside, unseen and unheard, and things much stranger are yet to be.
                    So”—here he shut the dark slide of his lantern—“now to the outside.” He opened
                    the door, and we filed out, he coming last and locking the door behind him.</p>
                <p>Oh! but it seemed fresh and <ref target="#erotic">pure</ref> in the night air
                    after the terror of that vault. How <ref target="#erotic">sweet</ref> it was to
                    see the clouds race by, and the passing gleams of the moonlight between the
                    scudding clouds crossing and passing—like the gladness and sorrow of a man’s
                    life; how <ref target="#erotic">sweet</ref> it was to breathe the fresh air,
                    that had no taint of death and decay; how humanising to see the <ref
                        target="#erotic">red</ref> lighting of the sky beyond the hill, and to hear
                    far away the muffled roar that marks the life of a great city. Each in his own
                    way was solemn and overcome. <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> was
                    silent, and was, I could see, striving to grasp the purpose and the inner
                    meaning of the mystery. I was myself tolerably patient, and half inclined again
                    to throw aside doubt and to accept <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van
                        Helsing's</persName> conclusions. <persName ref="Quincey"> Quincey Morris
                    </persName>was phlegmatic in the way of a man who accepts all things, and
                    accepts them in the spirit of cool bravery, with hazard of all he has to stake.
                    Not being able to smoke, he cut himself a good-sized plug of tobacco and began
                    to chew. As to Van Helsing, he was employed in a definite way. First he took
                    from his bag a mass of what looked like thin, wafer-like biscuit, which was
                    carefully rolled up in a white napkin; next he took out a double-handful of some
                    whitish stuff, like dough or putty. He crumbled the wafer up fine and worked it
                    into the mass between his hands. This he then took, and rolling it into thin
                    strips, began to lay them into the crevices between the door and its setting in
                    the tomb. I was somewhat puzzled at this, and being close, asked him what it was
                    that he was doing. <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> and <persName
                        ref="Quincey">Quincey</persName> drew near also, as they too were curious.
                    He answered:—</p>
                <p>“I am closing the tomb, so that the Un-Dead may not enter.”</p>
                <p>“And is that stuff you have put there going to do it?” asked <persName
                        ref="Quincey">Quincey</persName>. “Great Scott! Is this a game?”</p>
                <p>“It is.”</p>
                <p>“What is that which you are using?” This time the question was by <persName
                        ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>. <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van
                        Helsing</persName> reverently lifted his hat as he answered:—</p>
                <p>“The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an Indulgence.” It was an answer
                    that appalled the most sceptical of us, and we felt individually that in the
                    presence of such earnest purpose as the <persName ref="#VanHelsing"
                        >Professor's</persName>, a purpose which could thus use the to him most
                    sacred of things, it was impossible to distrust. In respectful silence we took
                    the places assigned to us close round the tomb, but hidden from the sight of any
                    one approaching. I pitied the others, especially <persName ref="#Arthur"
                        >Arthur</persName>. I had myself been apprenticed by my former visits to
                    this watching horror; and yet I, who had up to an hour ago repudiated the
                    proofs, felt my heart sink within me. Never did tombs look so ghastly white;
                    never did cypress, or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of funereal gloom;
                    never did tree or grass wave or rustle so ominously; never did bough creak so
                    mysteriously; and never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a woeful
                    presage through the night.</p>
                <p>There was a long spell of silence, a big, aching void, and then from the
                        <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Professor</persName> a keen “S-s-s-s!” He
                    pointed; and far down the avenue of yews we saw a white figure advance—a dim
                    white figure, which held something dark at its <ref target="#erotic"
                        >breast</ref>. The figure stopped, and at the moment a ray of moonlight fell
                    upon the masses of driving clouds and showed in startling prominence a
                    dark-haired woman, dressed in the cerements of the grave. We could not see the
                    face, for it was bent down over what we saw to be a fair-haired child. There was
                    a pause and a sharp little cry, such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it
                    lies before the fire and dreams. We were starting forward, but the <persName
                        ref="#VanHelsing">Professor's</persName> warning hand, seen by us as he
                    stood behind a yew-tree, kept us back; and then as we looked the white figure
                    moved forwards again. It was now near enough for us to see clearly, and the
                    moonlight still held. My own heart grew cold as ice, and I could hear the <ref
                        target="#erotic">gasp</ref> of <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>, as
                    we recognised the features of <persName ref="#Lucy">Lucy Westerna</persName>.
                        <persName ref="#Lucy">Lucy Westerna</persName>, but yet how changed. The
                        <ref target="#erotic">sweetness</ref> was turned to adamantine, heartless
                    cruelty, and the purity to <ref target="#erotic">voluptuous</ref>
                    <ref target="#erotic">wantonness</ref>. <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van
                        Helsing</persName> stepped out, and, obedient to his gesture, we all
                    advanced too; the four of us ranged in a line before the door of the tomb.
                        <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</persName> raised his lantern and
                    drew the slide; by the concentrated light that fell on <persName ref="#Lucy"
                        >Lucy's</persName> face we could see that the <ref target="#erotic"
                        >lips</ref> were <ref target="#violent">crimson</ref> with fresh <ref
                        target="#violenterotic">blood</ref>, and that the stream had trickled over
                    her chin and stained the <ref target="#erotic">purity</ref> of her lawn
                    death-robe.</p>
                <p>We <ref target="#violenterotic">shuddered</ref> with horror. I could see by the
                    tremulous light that even <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing's</persName>’s
                    iron nerve had failed. <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> was next to me,
                    and if I had not seized his arm and held him up, he would have fallen.</p>
                <p>When <persName ref="#Lucy">Lucy</persName>—I call the thing that was before us
                        <persName ref="#Lucy">Lucy</persName> because it bore her shape—saw us she
                    drew back with an angry <ref target="#violent">snarl</ref>, such as a cat gives
                    when taken unawares; then her eyes ranged over us. <persName ref="#Lucy"
                        >Lucy's</persName> eyes in form and colour; but <persName ref="#Lucy"
                        >Lucy's</persName> eyes unclean and full of hell-fire, instead of the pure,
                    gentle orbs we knew. At that moment the remnant of my <ref target="#erotic"
                        >love</ref> passed into hate and loathing; had she then to be <ref
                        target="#violent">killed</ref>, I could have done it with savage <ref
                        target="#erotic">delight</ref>. As she looked, her eyes blazed with unholy
                    light, and the face became wreathed with a <ref target="#erotic"
                        >voluptuous</ref> smile. Oh, God, how it made me shudder to see it! With a
                    careless motion, she <ref target="#violent">flung to the ground</ref>, callous
                    as a devil, the child that up to now she had clutched strenuously to her <ref
                        target="#erotic">breast</ref>, growling over it as a dog growls over a bone.
                    The child gave a sharp cry, and lay there <ref target="#violenterotic"
                        >moaning</ref>. There was a cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a <ref
                        target="#erotic">groan</ref> from <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>;
                    when she advanced to him with outstretched arms and a <ref target="#erotic"
                        >wanton</ref> smile he fell back and hid his face in his hands.</p>
                <p>She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, <ref target="#erotic"
                        >voluptuous</ref> grace, said:—</p>
                <p>“Come to me, <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>. Leave these others and
                    come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my
                    husband, come!”</p>
                <p>There was something <ref target="#violenterotic">diabolically sweet</ref> in her
                    tones—something of the tingling of glass when struck—which rang through the
                    brains even of us who heard the words addressed to another. As for <persName
                        ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>, he seemed under a spell; moving his hands
                    from his face, he opened wide his arms. She was leaping for them, when <persName
                        ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</persName> sprang forward and held between
                    them his little golden crucifix. She <ref target="#violent">recoiled</ref> from
                    it, and, with a suddenly <ref target="#violent">distorted</ref> face, full of
                    rage, dashed past him as if to enter the tomb.</p>
                <p>When within a foot or two of the door, however, she stopped, as if arrested by
                    some <ref target="#erotic">irresistible</ref> force. Then she turned, and her
                    face was shown in the clear burst of moonlight and by the lamp, which had now no
                    quiver from <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing's</persName> iron nerves.
                    Never did I see such baffled malice on a face; and never, I trust, shall such
                    ever be seen again by mortal eyes. The <ref target="#erotic">beautiful</ref>
                    colour became livid, the eyes seemed to <ref target="#violent">throw out sparks
                        of hell-fire</ref>, the brows were wrinkled as though the folds of the flesh
                    were the coils of Medusa’s snakes, and the <ref target="#erotic">lovely</ref>,
                        <ref target="#violenterotic">blood</ref>-stained <ref target="#erotic"
                        >mouth</ref>grew to an open square, as in the passion masks of the Greeks
                    and Japanese. If ever a face meant death—if looks could <ref target="#violent"
                        >kill</ref>—we saw it at that moment.</p>
                <p>And so for full half a minute, which seemed an eternity, she remained between the
                    lifted crucifix and the sacred closing of her means of entry. <persName
                        ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</persName> broke the silence by asking
                        <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>:—</p>
                <p>“Answer me, oh my friend! Am I to proceed in my work?”</p>
                <p><persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> threw himself on his knees, and hid his
                    face in his hands, as he answered:—</p>
                <p>“Do as you will, friend; do as you will. There can be no horror like this ever
                    any more;” and he groaned in spirit. <persName ref="Quincey">Quincey </persName>
                    and I simultaneously moved towards him, and took his arms. We could hear the
                    click of the closing lantern as Van Helsing held it down; coming close to the
                    tomb, he began to remove from the chinks some of the sacred emblem which he had
                    placed there. We all looked on in horrified amazement as we saw, when he stood
                    back, the woman, with a corporeal body as real at that moment as our own, pass
                    in through the interstice where scarce a <ref target="#violent"
                        >knife-blade</ref> could have gone. We all felt a glad sense of relief when
                    we saw the <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Professor</persName> calmly restoring the
                    strings of putty to the edges of the door.</p>
                <p>When this was done, he lifted the child and said:</p>
                <p>“Come now, my friends; we can do no more till to-morrow. There is a funeral at
                    noon, so here we shall all come before long after that. The friends of the dead
                    will all be gone by two, and when the sexton lock the gate we shall remain. Then
                    there is more to do; but not like this of to-night. As for this little one, he
                    is not much harm, and by to-morrow night he shall be well. We shall leave him
                    where the police will find him, as on the other night; and then to home.” Coming
                    close to <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>, he said:—</p>
                <p>“My friend <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>, you have had a sore trial;
                    but after, when you look back, you will see how it was necessary. You are now in
                    the bitter waters, my child. By this time to-morrow you will, please God, have
                    passed them, and have drunk of the <ref target="#erotic">sweet</ref> waters; so
                    do not mourn overmuch. Till then I shall not ask you to forgive me.”</p>
                <p><persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> and <persName ref="Quincey"
                        >Quincey</persName> came home with me, and we tried to cheer each other on
                    the way. We had left the child in safety, and were tired; so we all slept with
                    more or less reality of sleep.</p>
            </div>
            <div type="passage">
                <head><date>September 29th</date>, <time>night</time></head>
                <p>—A little before <time>twelve o’clock</time> we three—<persName ref="#Arthur"
                        >Arthur</persName>, <persName ref="Quincey">Quincey Morris</persName>, and
                    myself—called for the <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Professor</persName>. It was
                    odd to notice that by common consent we had all put on black clothes. Of course,
                        <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> wore black, for he was in deep
                    mourning, but the rest of us wore it by instinct. We got to the churchyard by
                    half-past one, and strolled about, keeping out of official observation, so that
                    when the gravediggers had completed their task and the sexton under the belief
                    that every one had gone, had locked the gate, we had the place all to ourselves.
                        <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</persName>, instead of his little
                    black bag, had with him a long leather one, something like a cricketing bag; it
                    was manifestly of fair weight.</p>
                <p>When we were alone and had heard the last of the footsteps die out up the road,
                    we silently, and as if by ordered intention, followed the <persName
                        ref="#VanHelsing">Professor</persName> to the tomb. He unlocked the door,
                    and we entered, closing it behind us. Then he took from his bag the lantern,
                    which he lit, and also two wax candles, which, when lighted, he stuck, by
                    melting their own ends, on other coffins, so that they might give light
                    sufficient to work by. When he again lifted the lid off <persName ref="#Lucy"
                        >Lucy's</persName> coffin we all looked—<persName ref="#Arthur"
                        >Arthur</persName>
                    <ref target="#erotic">trembling</ref> like an aspen—and saw that the body lay
                    there in all its <ref target="#violenterotic">death-beauty</ref> But there was
                    no <ref target="#erotic">love</ref> in my own heart, nothing but loathing for
                    the foul Thing which had taken <persName ref="#Lucy">Lucy's</persName> shape
                    without her soul. I could see even <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>’s
                    face grow hard as he looked. Presently he said to Van Helsing:—</p>
                <p>“Is this really <persName ref="#Lucy">Lucy's</persName> body, or only a demon in
                    her shape?”</p>
                <p>“It is her body, and yet not it. But wait a while, and you all see her as she
                    was, and is.”</p>
                <p>She seemed like a nightmare of <persName ref="#Lucy">Lucy</persName> as she lay
                    there; the <ref target="#violenterotic">pointed teeth</ref>, the <ref
                        target="#violenterotic">bloodstained</ref>, <ref target="#erotic"
                        >voluptuous</ref> mouth—which it made one <ref target="#erotic"
                        >shudder</ref> to see—the whole <ref target="#erotic">carnal</ref> and
                    unspiritual appearance, seeming like a devilish mockery of <persName ref="#Lucy"
                        >Lucy's</persName>
                    <ref target="#erotic">sweet purity</ref>. <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van
                        Helsing</persName>, with his usual methodicalness, began taking the various
                    contents from his bag and placing them ready for use. First he took out a
                    soldering iron and some plumbing solder, and then a small oil-lamp, which gave
                    out, when lit in a corner of the tomb, gas which burned at fierce heat with a
                    blue flame; then his operating knives, which he placed to hand; and last a round
                        <ref target="#violent">wooden stake</ref>, some two and a half or three
                    inches thick and about three feet long. One end of it was hardened by charring
                    in the fire, and was sharpened to a fine point. With this stake came a heavy<ref
                        target="#violent"> hammer</ref>, such as in households is used in the
                    coal-cellar for breaking the lumps. To me, a doctor’s preparations for work of
                    any kind are stimulating and bracing, but the effect of these things on both
                        <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> and <persName ref="Quincey"
                        >Quincey</persName> was to cause them a sort of consternation. They both,
                    however, kept their courage, and remained silent and quiet.</p>
                <p>When all was ready, <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</persName> said:—</p>
                <p>“Before we do anything, let me tell you this; it is out of the lore and
                    experience of the ancients and of all those who have studied the powers of the
                    Un-Dead. When they become such, there comes with the change the curse of
                    immortality; they cannot <ref target="#violent">die</ref>, but must go on age
                    after age adding new victims and multiplying the evils of the world; for all
                    that die from the preying of the Un-Dead becomes themselves Un-Dead, and <ref
                        target="#violenterotic">prey</ref> on their kind. And so the circle goes on
                    ever widening, like as the ripples from a stone thrown in the water. Friend
                        <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>, if you had met that <ref
                        target="#erotic">kiss</ref> which you know of before poor <persName
                        ref="#Lucy">Lucy</persName>
                    <ref target="#violent">die</ref>; or again, last night when you open your arms
                    to her, you would in time, when you had died, have become nosferatu, as they
                    call it in Eastern Europe, and would all time make more of those Un-Deads that
                    so have fill us with horror. The career of this so unhappy dear lady is but just
                    begun. Those children whose <ref target="#violenterotic">blood</ref> she <ref
                        target="#violenterotic">suck</ref> are not as yet so much the worse; but if
                    she live on, Un-Dead, more and more they lose their <ref target="#violenterotic"
                        >blood</ref> and by her power over them they come to her; and so she draw
                    their blood with that so <ref target="#violenterotic">wicked mouth</ref>. But if
                    she die in truth, then all cease; the tiny <ref target="#violent">wounds</ref>
                    of the <ref target="#erotic">throats</ref> disappear, and they go back to their
                    plays unknowing ever of what has been. But of the most blessed of all, when this
                    now Un-Dead be made to rest as true dead, then the soul of the poor lady whom we
                        <ref target="#erotic">love</ref> shall again be free. Instead of working
                    wickedness by night and growing more debased in the assimilating of it by day,
                    she shall take her place with the other Angels. So that, my friend, it will be a
                    blessed hand for her that shall strike the blow that sets her free. To this I am
                    willing; but is there none amongst us who has a better right? Will it be no joy
                    to think of hereafter in the silence of the night when sleep is not: ‘It was my
                    hand that sent her to the stars; it was the hand of him that loved her best; the
                    hand that of all she would herself have chosen, had it been to her to choose?’
                    Tell me if there be such a one amongst us?”</p>
                <p>We all looked at <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>. He saw, too, what we
                    all did, the infinite kindness which suggested that his should be the hand which
                    would restore <persName ref="#Lucy">Lucy</persName> to us as a holy, and not an
                    unholy, memory; he stepped forward and said bravely, though his hand <ref
                        target="erotic">trembled</ref>, and his face was as pale as snow:—</p>
                <p>“My true friend, from the bottom of my broken heart I thank you. Tell me what I
                    am to do, and I shall not falter!” <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van
                        Helsing</persName> laid a hand on his shoulder, and said:—</p>
                <p>“Brave lad! A moment’s courage, and it is done. <ref target="#violent">This stake
                        must be driven through her</ref>. It will be a fearful ordeal—be not
                    deceived in that—but it will be only a short time, and you will then rejoice
                    more than your <ref target="#violent">pain</ref> was great; from this grim tomb
                    you will emerge as though you tread on air. But you must not falter when once
                    you have begun. Only think that we, your true friends, are round you, and that
                    we pray for you all the time.”</p>
                <p>“Go on,” said <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> hoarsely. “Tell me what I
                    am to do.”</p>
                <p>“Take this <ref target="#violent">stake</ref> in your left hand, ready to place
                    the point over the heart, and the <ref target="#violent">hammer</ref> in your
                    right. Then when we begin our prayer for the dead—I shall read him, I have here
                    the book, and the others shall follow—strike in God’s name, that so all may be
                    well with the dead that we <ref target="#erotic">love</ref> and that the Un-Dead
                    pass away.”</p>
                <p><persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> took the <ref target="#violent">stake
                        and the hammer</ref>, and when once his mind was set on action his hands
                    never <ref target="#erotic">trembled nor even quivered</ref>. <persName
                        ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</persName> opened his missal and began to
                    read, and <persName ref="Quincey">Quincey</persName> and I followed as well as
                    we could. <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> placed the point over the
                    heart, and as I looked I could see its dint in the white flesh. <ref
                        target="#violent">Then he struck with all his might</ref>.</p>
                <p>The Thing in the coffin <ref target="#violenterotic">writhed</ref>; and a
                    hideous, blood-curdling screech came from the opened <ref target="#erotic">red
                        lips</ref>. The body <ref target="#violenterotic">shook and quivered and
                        twisted in wild contortions; the sharp white teeth champed together till the
                        lips were cut, and the mouth was smeared with a crimson foam</ref>. But
                        <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> never faltered. He looked like a
                    figure of Thor as his untrembling arm rose and fell, <ref target="#violent"
                        >driving deeper and deeper the mercy-bearing stake</ref>, whilst the <ref
                        target="#violenterotic">blood</ref> from the pierced heart welled and
                    spurted up around it. His face was set, and high duty seemed to shine through
                    it; the sight of it gave us courage so that our voices seemed to ring through
                    the little vault.</p>
                <p>And then the <ref target="#violenterotic">writhing and quivering</ref>of the body
                    became less, and the teeth seemed to champ, and the face to <ref
                        target="#erotic">quiver</ref>. Finally it lay still. The terrible task was
                    over.</p>
                <p>The <ref target="#violent">hammer</ref> fell from <persName ref="#Arthur"
                        >Arthur</persName>’s hand. He reeled and would have fallen had we not caught
                    him. The great drops of <ref target="#erotic">sweat</ref> sprang from his
                    forehead, and his breath came in broken <ref target="#erotic">gasps</ref>. It
                    had indeed been an awful strain on him; and had he not been forced to his task
                    by more than human considerations he could never have gone through with it. For
                    a few minutes we were so taken up with him that we did not look towards the
                    coffin. When we did, however, a murmur of startled surprise ran from one to the
                    other of us. We gazed so eagerly that <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>
                    rose, for he had been seated on the ground, and came and looked too; and then a
                    glad, strange light broke over his face and dispelled altogether the gloom of
                    horror that lay upon it.</p>
                <p>There, in the coffin lay no longer the foul Thing that we had so dreaded and
                    grown to hate that the work of her destruction was yielded as a privilege to the
                    one best entitled to it, but <persName ref="#Lucy">Lucy</persName> as we had
                    seen her in her life, with her face of unequalled <ref target="#erotic"
                        >sweetness and purity</ref>. True that there were there, as we had seen them
                    in life, the traces of care and pain and waste; but these were all dear to us,
                    for they marked her truth to what we knew. One and all we felt that the holy
                    calm that lay like sunshine over the wasted face and form was only an earthly
                    token and symbol of the calm that was to reign for ever.</p>
                <p><persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</persName> came and laid his hand on
                        <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>’s shoulder, and said to him:—</p>
                <p>“And now, <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> my friend, dear lad, am I not
                    forgiven?”</p>
                <p>The reaction of the terrible strain came as he took the old man’s hand in his,
                    and raising it to his <ref target="#erotic">lips</ref>, pressed it, and
                    said:—</p>
                <p>“Forgiven! God bless you that you have given my dear one her soul again, and me
                    peace.” He put his hands on the <persName ref="#VanHelsing"
                        >Professor's</persName> shoulder, and laying his head on his breast, cried
                    for a while silently, whilst we stood unmoving. When he raised his head
                        <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</persName> said to him:—</p>
                <p>“And now, my child, you may <ref target="#erotic">kiss</ref> her. <ref
                        target="#violenterotic">Kiss her dead lips</ref> if you will, as she would
                    have you to, if for her to choose. For she is not a grinning devil now—not any
                    more a foul Thing for all eternity. No longer she is the devil’s Un-Dead. She is
                    God’s true dead, whose soul is with Him!”</p>
                <p><persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName> bent and <ref target="#erotic"
                        >kissed</ref> her, and then we sent him and <persName ref="Quincey"
                        >Quincey</persName> out of the tomb; the <persName ref="#VanHelsing"
                        >Professor</persName> and I sawed the top off the <ref target="#violent"
                        >stake</ref>, leaving the point of it in the body. Then we <ref
                        target="#violent">cut off the head</ref> and filled the <ref
                        target="#erotic">mouth</ref> with garlic. We soldered up the leaden coffin,
                    screwed on the coffin-lid, and gathering up our belongings, came away. When the
                        <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Professor</persName> locked the door he gave the
                    key to <persName ref="#Arthur">Arthur</persName>.</p>
                <p>Outside the air was <ref target="#erotic">sweet</ref>, the sun shone, and the
                    birds sang, and it seemed as if all nature were tuned to a different pitch.
                    There was gladness and mirth and peace everywhere, for we were at rest ourselves
                    on one account, and we were glad, though it was with a tempered joy.</p>
                <p>Before we moved away <persName ref="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</persName>
                    said:—</p>
                <p>“Now, my friends, one step of our work is done, one the most harrowing to
                    ourselves. But there remains a greater task: to find out the author of all this
                    our sorrow and to stamp him out. I have clues which we can follow; but it is a
                    long task, and a difficult, and there is danger in it, and <ref
                        target="#violent">pain</ref>. Shall you not all help me? We have learned to
                    believe, all of us—is it not so? And since so, do we not see our duty? Yes! And
                    do we not promise to go on to the bitter end?”</p>
                <p>Each in turn, we took his hand, and the promise was made. Then said the <persName
                        ref="#VanHelsing">Professor</persName> as we moved off:—</p>
                <p>“Two nights hence you shall meet with me and dine together at seven of the clock
                    with friend John. I shall entreat two others, two that you know not as yet; and
                    I shall be ready to all our work show and our plans unfold. Friend John, you
                    come with me home, for I have much to consult about, and you can help me.
                    To-night I leave for Amsterdam, but shall return to-morrow night. And then
                    begins our great quest. But first I shall have much to say, so that you may know
                    what is to do and to dread. Then our promise shall be made to each other anew;
                    for there is a terrible task before us, and once our feet are on the ploughshare
                    we must not draw back.”</p>
            </div>
        </body>
        <back>
            <div type="rationale">
                <head>The Violent Erotic</head>
                <ab xml:id="erotic"><emph>Erotic</emph> - What constitutes erotic language was
                    decided through word frequency studies in Victorian pornographic texts. This
                    language set is largely characterized by adjectives such as wanton and
                    voluptuous.</ab>
                <ab xml:id="violent"><emph>Violent</emph> - Violent language is characterized by
                    weapons and descriptions of weaponry. I have also included verbs describing
                    violence and words related to wounds and wounding.</ab>
                <ab xml:id="violenterotic"><emph>The Violent Erotic</emph> - Violent erotic language
                    describes overlap between the erotic and violent language sets. There are a
                    number of words and phrases that belong to both, implying a shared vocabulary
                    between sex acts and violence.</ab>
            </div>
            <div>
                <listPerson>
                    <person xml:id="Arthur">
                        <persName>Arthur Holmwood</persName>
                        <occupation type="role">Arthur Holmwood is the wealthy son of Lord
                            Goldaming. When his father dies, he inherits his title. He is betrothed
                            to Lucy Westerna earlier on in the novel before Count Dracula transforms
                            her into a vampire.</occupation>
                    </person>
                    <person xml:id="Lucy">
                        <persName>Lucy Westenra</persName>
                        <occupation type="role">Lucy Westenra is the best friend of Mina Murray. She
                            comes from a wealthy family and is decribed throughout the novel as
                            physically attractive. She has a history of sleepwalking, which makes
                            her susceptible to Dracula's enchantment. She becomes mysteriously ill
                            several times before dying and returning to life as a
                            vampire.</occupation>
                        <age>19</age>
                    </person>
                    <person xml:id="Dr.Seward">
                        <persName>Dr. John Seward</persName>
                        <occupation type="role">Best friends with Arthur Holmwood and Quincey
                            Morris, Dr. Seward is a psychiatrist at a mental institute. His
                            observations of R. M. Renfield allow the reader insight into the
                            characteristics of a vampire. Much of the novel is written from his
                            perspective.</occupation>
                    </person>
                    <person xml:id="VanHelsing">
                        <persName>Abraham Van Helsing</persName>
                        <occupation type="role">Van Helsing is invited Dr. Seward to help diagnose
                            the condition of Lucy Westerna, whose state is quickly deteriorating.
                            Van Helsing is well-versed in a number of subjects including vampirism.
                            He is the one who first understands that Lucy is the victim of a
                            vampire. After she dies, he instructs Arthur, Dr. Seward, and Quincey on
                            how to kill Lucy's undead corpse.</occupation>
                    </person>
                    <person xml:id="Quincey">
                        <persName>Quincey Morris</persName>
                        <occupation>Quincey Morris is a wealthy American from Texas. He, along with
                            Arthur, Dr. Seward, and Van Helsing, is part of the Crew of Light, which
                            sets out to destroy Dracula</occupation>
                    </person>
                </listPerson>
            </div>
        </back>
    </text>
</TEI>
Chapter Sixteen, Bram Stoker's Dracula Sari Dale ENGL305/DIHU301 Stoker, Bram. The Project Gutenberg Ebook of Dracula. 2013. Chapter XVI
Continued from Dr. Seward's Diary, September 29th

It was just a quarter before twelve o’clock when we got into the churchyard over the low wall. The night was dark with occasional gleams of moonlight between the rents of the heavy clouds that scudded across the sky. We all kept somehow close together, with Van Helsing slightly in front as he led the way. When we had come close to the tomb I looked well at Arthur for I feared that the proximity to a place laden with so sorrowful a memory would upset him; but he bore himself well. I took it that the very mystery of the proceeding was in some way a counteractant to his grief. The Professor unlocked the door, and seeing a natural hesitation amongst us for various reasons, solved the difficulty by entering first himself. The rest of us followed, and he closed the door. He then lit a dark lantern and pointed to the coffin. Arthur stepped forward hesitatingly; Van Helsing said to me:—

“You were with me here yesterday. Was the body of Miss Lucy in that coffin?”

“It was.” The Professor turned to the rest saying:—

“You hear; and yet there is no one who does not believe with me.” He took his screwdriver and again took off the lid of the coffin. Arthur looked on, very pale but silent; when the lid was removed he stepped forward. He evidently did not know that there was a leaden coffin, or, at any rate, had not thought of it. When he saw the rent in the lead, the blood rushed to his face for an instant, but as quickly fell away again, so that he remained of a ghastly whiteness; he was still silent. Van Helsing forced back the leaden flange, and we all looked in and recoiled.

The coffin was empty!

For several minutes no one spoke a word. The silence was broken by Quincey Morris:—

Professor, I answered for you. Your word is all I want. I wouldn’t ask such a thing ordinarily—I wouldn’t so dishonour you as to imply a doubt; but this is a mystery that goes beyond any honour or dishonour. Is this your doing?”

“I swear to you by all that I hold sacred that I have not removed nor touched her. What happened was this: Two nights ago my friend Seward and I came here—with good purpose, believe me. I opened that coffin, which was then sealed up, and we found it, as now, empty. We then waited, and saw something white come through the trees. The next day we came here in day-time, and she lay there. Did she not, friend John?”

“Yes.”

“That night we were just in time. One more so small child was missing, and we find it, thank God, unharmed amongst the graves. Yesterday I came here before sundown, for at sundown the Un-Dead can move. I waited here all the night till the sun rose, but I saw nothing. It was most probable that it was because I had laid over the clamps of those doors garlic, which the Un-Dead cannot bear, and other things which they shun. Last night there was no exodus, so to-night before the sundown I took away my garlic and other things. And so it is we find this coffin empty. But bear with me. So far there is much that is strange. Wait you with me outside, unseen and unheard, and things much stranger are yet to be. So”—here he shut the dark slide of his lantern—“now to the outside.” He opened the door, and we filed out, he coming last and locking the door behind him.

Oh! but it seemed fresh and pure in the night air after the terror of that vault. How sweet it was to see the clouds race by, and the passing gleams of the moonlight between the scudding clouds crossing and passing—like the gladness and sorrow of a man’s life; how sweet it was to breathe the fresh air, that had no taint of death and decay; how humanising to see the red lighting of the sky beyond the hill, and to hear far away the muffled roar that marks the life of a great city. Each in his own way was solemn and overcome. Arthur was silent, and was, I could see, striving to grasp the purpose and the inner meaning of the mystery. I was myself tolerably patient, and half inclined again to throw aside doubt and to accept Van Helsing's conclusions. Quincey Morris was phlegmatic in the way of a man who accepts all things, and accepts them in the spirit of cool bravery, with hazard of all he has to stake. Not being able to smoke, he cut himself a good-sized plug of tobacco and began to chew. As to Van Helsing, he was employed in a definite way. First he took from his bag a mass of what looked like thin, wafer-like biscuit, which was carefully rolled up in a white napkin; next he took out a double-handful of some whitish stuff, like dough or putty. He crumbled the wafer up fine and worked it into the mass between his hands. This he then took, and rolling it into thin strips, began to lay them into the crevices between the door and its setting in the tomb. I was somewhat puzzled at this, and being close, asked him what it was that he was doing. Arthur and Quincey drew near also, as they too were curious. He answered:—

“I am closing the tomb, so that the Un-Dead may not enter.”

“And is that stuff you have put there going to do it?” asked Quincey. “Great Scott! Is this a game?”

“It is.”

“What is that which you are using?” This time the question was by Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat as he answered:—

“The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an Indulgence.” It was an answer that appalled the most sceptical of us, and we felt individually that in the presence of such earnest purpose as the Professor's, a purpose which could thus use the to him most sacred of things, it was impossible to distrust. In respectful silence we took the places assigned to us close round the tomb, but hidden from the sight of any one approaching. I pitied the others, especially Arthur. I had myself been apprenticed by my former visits to this watching horror; and yet I, who had up to an hour ago repudiated the proofs, felt my heart sink within me. Never did tombs look so ghastly white; never did cypress, or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of funereal gloom; never did tree or grass wave or rustle so ominously; never did bough creak so mysteriously; and never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a woeful presage through the night.

There was a long spell of silence, a big, aching void, and then from the Professor a keen “S-s-s-s!” He pointed; and far down the avenue of yews we saw a white figure advance—a dim white figure, which held something dark at its breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment a ray of moonlight fell upon the masses of driving clouds and showed in startling prominence a dark-haired woman, dressed in the cerements of the grave. We could not see the face, for it was bent down over what we saw to be a fair-haired child. There was a pause and a sharp little cry, such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before the fire and dreams. We were starting forward, but the Professor's warning hand, seen by us as he stood behind a yew-tree, kept us back; and then as we looked the white figure moved forwards again. It was now near enough for us to see clearly, and the moonlight still held. My own heart grew cold as ice, and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognised the features of Lucy Westerna. Lucy Westerna, but yet how changed. The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness. Van Helsing stepped out, and, obedient to his gesture, we all advanced too; the four of us ranged in a line before the door of the tomb. Van Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slide; by the concentrated light that fell on Lucy's face we could see that the lips were crimson with fresh blood, and that the stream had trickled over her chin and stained the purity of her lawn death-robe.

We shuddered with horror. I could see by the tremulous light that even Van Helsing's’s iron nerve had failed. Arthur was next to me, and if I had not seized his arm and held him up, he would have fallen.

When Lucy—I call the thing that was before us Lucy because it bore her shape—saw us she drew back with an angry snarl, such as a cat gives when taken unawares; then her eyes ranged over us. Lucy's eyes in form and colour; but Lucy's eyes unclean and full of hell-fire, instead of the pure, gentle orbs we knew. At that moment the remnant of my love passed into hate and loathing; had she then to be killed, I could have done it with savage delight. As she looked, her eyes blazed with unholy light, and the face became wreathed with a voluptuous smile. Oh, God, how it made me shudder to see it! With a careless motion, she flung to the ground, callous as a devil, the child that up to now she had clutched strenuously to her breast, growling over it as a dog growls over a bone. The child gave a sharp cry, and lay there moaning. There was a cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a groan from Arthur; when she advanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton smile he fell back and hid his face in his hands.

She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, voluptuous grace, said:—

“Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come!”

There was something diabolically sweet in her tones—something of the tingling of glass when struck—which rang through the brains even of us who heard the words addressed to another. As for Arthur, he seemed under a spell; moving his hands from his face, he opened wide his arms. She was leaping for them, when Van Helsing sprang forward and held between them his little golden crucifix. She recoiled from it, and, with a suddenly distorted face, full of rage, dashed past him as if to enter the tomb.

When within a foot or two of the door, however, she stopped, as if arrested by some irresistible force. Then she turned, and her face was shown in the clear burst of moonlight and by the lamp, which had now no quiver from Van Helsing's iron nerves. Never did I see such baffled malice on a face; and never, I trust, shall such ever be seen again by mortal eyes. The beautiful colour became livid, the eyes seemed to throw out sparks of hell-fire, the brows were wrinkled as though the folds of the flesh were the coils of Medusa’s snakes, and the lovely, blood-stained mouthgrew to an open square, as in the passion masks of the Greeks and Japanese. If ever a face meant death—if looks could kill—we saw it at that moment.

And so for full half a minute, which seemed an eternity, she remained between the lifted crucifix and the sacred closing of her means of entry. Van Helsing broke the silence by asking Arthur:—

“Answer me, oh my friend! Am I to proceed in my work?”

Arthur threw himself on his knees, and hid his face in his hands, as he answered:—

“Do as you will, friend; do as you will. There can be no horror like this ever any more;” and he groaned in spirit. Quincey and I simultaneously moved towards him, and took his arms. We could hear the click of the closing lantern as Van Helsing held it down; coming close to the tomb, he began to remove from the chinks some of the sacred emblem which he had placed there. We all looked on in horrified amazement as we saw, when he stood back, the woman, with a corporeal body as real at that moment as our own, pass in through the interstice where scarce a knife-blade could have gone. We all felt a glad sense of relief when we saw the Professor calmly restoring the strings of putty to the edges of the door.

When this was done, he lifted the child and said:

“Come now, my friends; we can do no more till to-morrow. There is a funeral at noon, so here we shall all come before long after that. The friends of the dead will all be gone by two, and when the sexton lock the gate we shall remain. Then there is more to do; but not like this of to-night. As for this little one, he is not much harm, and by to-morrow night he shall be well. We shall leave him where the police will find him, as on the other night; and then to home.” Coming close to Arthur, he said:—

“My friend Arthur, you have had a sore trial; but after, when you look back, you will see how it was necessary. You are now in the bitter waters, my child. By this time to-morrow you will, please God, have passed them, and have drunk of the sweet waters; so do not mourn overmuch. Till then I shall not ask you to forgive me.”

Arthur and Quincey came home with me, and we tried to cheer each other on the way. We had left the child in safety, and were tired; so we all slept with more or less reality of sleep.

September 29th,

—A little before we three—Arthur, Quincey Morris, and myself—called for the Professor. It was odd to notice that by common consent we had all put on black clothes. Of course, Arthur wore black, for he was in deep mourning, but the rest of us wore it by instinct. We got to the churchyard by half-past one, and strolled about, keeping out of official observation, so that when the gravediggers had completed their task and the sexton under the belief that every one had gone, had locked the gate, we had the place all to ourselves. Van Helsing, instead of his little black bag, had with him a long leather one, something like a cricketing bag; it was manifestly of fair weight.

When we were alone and had heard the last of the footsteps die out up the road, we silently, and as if by ordered intention, followed the Professor to the tomb. He unlocked the door, and we entered, closing it behind us. Then he took from his bag the lantern, which he lit, and also two wax candles, which, when lighted, he stuck, by melting their own ends, on other coffins, so that they might give light sufficient to work by. When he again lifted the lid off Lucy's coffin we all looked—Arthur trembling like an aspen—and saw that the body lay there in all its death-beauty But there was no love in my own heart, nothing but loathing for the foul Thing which had taken Lucy's shape without her soul. I could see even Arthur’s face grow hard as he looked. Presently he said to Van Helsing:—

“Is this really Lucy's body, or only a demon in her shape?”

“It is her body, and yet not it. But wait a while, and you all see her as she was, and is.”

She seemed like a nightmare of Lucy as she lay there; the pointed teeth, the bloodstained, voluptuous mouth—which it made one shudder to see—the whole carnal and unspiritual appearance, seeming like a devilish mockery of Lucy's sweet purity. Van Helsing, with his usual methodicalness, began taking the various contents from his bag and placing them ready for use. First he took out a soldering iron and some plumbing solder, and then a small oil-lamp, which gave out, when lit in a corner of the tomb, gas which burned at fierce heat with a blue flame; then his operating knives, which he placed to hand; and last a round wooden stake, some two and a half or three inches thick and about three feet long. One end of it was hardened by charring in the fire, and was sharpened to a fine point. With this stake came a heavy hammer, such as in households is used in the coal-cellar for breaking the lumps. To me, a doctor’s preparations for work of any kind are stimulating and bracing, but the effect of these things on both Arthur and Quincey was to cause them a sort of consternation. They both, however, kept their courage, and remained silent and quiet.

When all was ready, Van Helsing said:—

“Before we do anything, let me tell you this; it is out of the lore and experience of the ancients and of all those who have studied the powers of the Un-Dead. When they become such, there comes with the change the curse of immortality; they cannot die, but must go on age after age adding new victims and multiplying the evils of the world; for all that die from the preying of the Un-Dead becomes themselves Un-Dead, and prey on their kind. And so the circle goes on ever widening, like as the ripples from a stone thrown in the water. Friend Arthur, if you had met that kiss which you know of before poor Lucy die; or again, last night when you open your arms to her, you would in time, when you had died, have become nosferatu, as they call it in Eastern Europe, and would all time make more of those Un-Deads that so have fill us with horror. The career of this so unhappy dear lady is but just begun. Those children whose blood she suck are not as yet so much the worse; but if she live on, Un-Dead, more and more they lose their blood and by her power over them they come to her; and so she draw their blood with that so wicked mouth. But if she die in truth, then all cease; the tiny wounds of the throats disappear, and they go back to their plays unknowing ever of what has been. But of the most blessed of all, when this now Un-Dead be made to rest as true dead, then the soul of the poor lady whom we love shall again be free. Instead of working wickedness by night and growing more debased in the assimilating of it by day, she shall take her place with the other Angels. So that, my friend, it will be a blessed hand for her that shall strike the blow that sets her free. To this I am willing; but is there none amongst us who has a better right? Will it be no joy to think of hereafter in the silence of the night when sleep is not: ‘It was my hand that sent her to the stars; it was the hand of him that loved her best; the hand that of all she would herself have chosen, had it been to her to choose?’ Tell me if there be such a one amongst us?”

We all looked at Arthur. He saw, too, what we all did, the infinite kindness which suggested that his should be the hand which would restore Lucy to us as a holy, and not an unholy, memory; he stepped forward and said bravely, though his hand trembled, and his face was as pale as snow:—

“My true friend, from the bottom of my broken heart I thank you. Tell me what I am to do, and I shall not falter!” Van Helsing laid a hand on his shoulder, and said:—

“Brave lad! A moment’s courage, and it is done. This stake must be driven through her. It will be a fearful ordeal—be not deceived in that—but it will be only a short time, and you will then rejoice more than your pain was great; from this grim tomb you will emerge as though you tread on air. But you must not falter when once you have begun. Only think that we, your true friends, are round you, and that we pray for you all the time.”

“Go on,” said Arthur hoarsely. “Tell me what I am to do.”

“Take this stake in your left hand, ready to place the point over the heart, and the hammer in your right. Then when we begin our prayer for the dead—I shall read him, I have here the book, and the others shall follow—strike in God’s name, that so all may be well with the dead that we love and that the Un-Dead pass away.”

Arthur took the stake and the hammer, and when once his mind was set on action his hands never trembled nor even quivered. Van Helsing opened his missal and began to read, and Quincey and I followed as well as we could. Arthur placed the point over the heart, and as I looked I could see its dint in the white flesh. Then he struck with all his might.

The Thing in the coffin writhed; and a hideous, blood-curdling screech came from the opened red lips. The body shook and quivered and twisted in wild contortions; the sharp white teeth champed together till the lips were cut, and the mouth was smeared with a crimson foam. But Arthur never faltered. He looked like a figure of Thor as his untrembling arm rose and fell, driving deeper and deeper the mercy-bearing stake, whilst the blood from the pierced heart welled and spurted up around it. His face was set, and high duty seemed to shine through it; the sight of it gave us courage so that our voices seemed to ring through the little vault.

And then the writhing and quiveringof the body became less, and the teeth seemed to champ, and the face to quiver. Finally it lay still. The terrible task was over.

The hammer fell from Arthur’s hand. He reeled and would have fallen had we not caught him. The great drops of sweat sprang from his forehead, and his breath came in broken gasps. It had indeed been an awful strain on him; and had he not been forced to his task by more than human considerations he could never have gone through with it. For a few minutes we were so taken up with him that we did not look towards the coffin. When we did, however, a murmur of startled surprise ran from one to the other of us. We gazed so eagerly that Arthur rose, for he had been seated on the ground, and came and looked too; and then a glad, strange light broke over his face and dispelled altogether the gloom of horror that lay upon it.

There, in the coffin lay no longer the foul Thing that we had so dreaded and grown to hate that the work of her destruction was yielded as a privilege to the one best entitled to it, but Lucy as we had seen her in her life, with her face of unequalled sweetness and purity. True that there were there, as we had seen them in life, the traces of care and pain and waste; but these were all dear to us, for they marked her truth to what we knew. One and all we felt that the holy calm that lay like sunshine over the wasted face and form was only an earthly token and symbol of the calm that was to reign for ever.

Van Helsing came and laid his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and said to him:—

“And now, Arthur my friend, dear lad, am I not forgiven?”

The reaction of the terrible strain came as he took the old man’s hand in his, and raising it to his lips, pressed it, and said:—

“Forgiven! God bless you that you have given my dear one her soul again, and me peace.” He put his hands on the Professor's shoulder, and laying his head on his breast, cried for a while silently, whilst we stood unmoving. When he raised his head Van Helsing said to him:—

“And now, my child, you may kiss her. Kiss her dead lips if you will, as she would have you to, if for her to choose. For she is not a grinning devil now—not any more a foul Thing for all eternity. No longer she is the devil’s Un-Dead. She is God’s true dead, whose soul is with Him!”

Arthur bent and kissed her, and then we sent him and Quincey out of the tomb; the Professor and I sawed the top off the stake, leaving the point of it in the body. Then we cut off the head and filled the mouth with garlic. We soldered up the leaden coffin, screwed on the coffin-lid, and gathering up our belongings, came away. When the Professor locked the door he gave the key to Arthur.

Outside the air was sweet, the sun shone, and the birds sang, and it seemed as if all nature were tuned to a different pitch. There was gladness and mirth and peace everywhere, for we were at rest ourselves on one account, and we were glad, though it was with a tempered joy.

Before we moved away Van Helsing said:—

“Now, my friends, one step of our work is done, one the most harrowing to ourselves. But there remains a greater task: to find out the author of all this our sorrow and to stamp him out. I have clues which we can follow; but it is a long task, and a difficult, and there is danger in it, and pain. Shall you not all help me? We have learned to believe, all of us—is it not so? And since so, do we not see our duty? Yes! And do we not promise to go on to the bitter end?”

Each in turn, we took his hand, and the promise was made. Then said the Professor as we moved off:—

“Two nights hence you shall meet with me and dine together at seven of the clock with friend John. I shall entreat two others, two that you know not as yet; and I shall be ready to all our work show and our plans unfold. Friend John, you come with me home, for I have much to consult about, and you can help me. To-night I leave for Amsterdam, but shall return to-morrow night. And then begins our great quest. But first I shall have much to say, so that you may know what is to do and to dread. Then our promise shall be made to each other anew; for there is a terrible task before us, and once our feet are on the ploughshare we must not draw back.”

The Violent Erotic Erotic - What constitutes erotic language was decided through word frequency studies in Victorian pornographic texts. This language set is largely characterized by adjectives such as wanton and voluptuous. Violent - Violent language is characterized by weapons and descriptions of weaponry. I have also included verbs describing violence and words related to wounds and wounding. The Violent Erotic - Violent erotic language describes overlap between the erotic and violent language sets. There are a number of words and phrases that belong to both, implying a shared vocabulary between sex acts and violence.

Dr. John Seward

Best friends with Arthur Holmwood and Quincey Morris, Dr. Seward is a psychiatrist at a mental institute. His observations of R. M. Renfield allow the reader insight into the characteristics of a vampire. Much of the novel is written from his perspective.

Abraham Van Helsing

Van Helsing is invited Dr. Seward to help diagnose the condition of Lucy Westerna, whose state is quickly deteriorating. Van Helsing is well-versed in a number of subjects including vampirism. He is the one who first understands that Lucy is the victim of a vampire. After she dies, he instructs Arthur, Dr. Seward, and Quincey on how to kill Lucy's undead corpse.

Arthur Holmwood

Arthur Holmwood is the wealthy son of Lord Goldaming. When his father dies, he inherits his title. He is betrothed to Lucy Westerna earlier on in the novel before Count Dracula transforms her into a vampire.

Lucy Westenra

19

Lucy Westenra is the best friend of Mina Murray. She comes from a wealthy family and is decribed throughout the novel as physically attractive. She has a history of sleepwalking, which makes her susceptible to Dracula's enchantment. She becomes mysteriously ill several times before dying and returning to life as a vampire.

Quincey Morris

Quincey Morris is a wealthy American from Texas. He, along with Arthur, Dr. Seward, and Van Helsing, is part of the Crew of Light, which sets out to destroy Dracula

Toolbox

Themes:

Chapter Sixteen, Bram Stoker's Dracula Sari Dale ENGL305/DIHU301 Stoker, Bram. The Project Gutenberg Ebook of Dracula. 2013. Chapter XVI
Continued from Dr. Seward's Diary, September 29th

It was just a quarter before twelve o’clock when we got into the churchyard over the low wall. The night was dark with occasional gleams of moonlight between the rents of the heavy clouds that scudded across the sky. We all kept somehow close together, with Van Helsing slightly in front as he led the way. When we had come close to the tomb I looked well at Arthur for I feared that the proximity to a place laden with so sorrowful a memory would upset him; but he bore himself well. I took it that the very mystery of the proceeding was in some way a counteractant to his grief. The Professor unlocked the door, and seeing a natural hesitation amongst us for various reasons, solved the difficulty by entering first himself. The rest of us followed, and he closed the door. He then lit a dark lantern and pointed to the coffin. Arthur stepped forward hesitatingly; Van Helsing said to me:—

“You were with me here yesterday. Was the body of Miss Lucy in that coffin?”

“It was.” The Professor turned to the rest saying:—

“You hear; and yet there is no one who does not believe with me.” He took his screwdriver and again took off the lid of the coffin. Arthur looked on, very pale but silent; when the lid was removed he stepped forward. He evidently did not know that there was a leaden coffin, or, at any rate, had not thought of it. When he saw the rent in the lead, the blood rushed to his face for an instant, but as quickly fell away again, so that he remained of a ghastly whiteness; he was still silent. Van Helsing forced back the leaden flange, and we all looked in and recoiled.

The coffin was empty!

For several minutes no one spoke a word. The silence was broken by Quincey Morris:—

Professor, I answered for you. Your word is all I want. I wouldn’t ask such a thing ordinarily—I wouldn’t so dishonour you as to imply a doubt; but this is a mystery that goes beyond any honour or dishonour. Is this your doing?”

“I swear to you by all that I hold sacred that I have not removed nor touched her. What happened was this: Two nights ago my friend Seward and I came here—with good purpose, believe me. I opened that coffin, which was then sealed up, and we found it, as now, empty. We then waited, and saw something white come through the trees. The next day we came here in day-time, and she lay there. Did she not, friend John?”

“Yes.”

“That night we were just in time. One more so small child was missing, and we find it, thank God, unharmed amongst the graves. Yesterday I came here before sundown, for at sundown the Un-Dead can move. I waited here all the night till the sun rose, but I saw nothing. It was most probable that it was because I had laid over the clamps of those doors garlic, which the Un-Dead cannot bear, and other things which they shun. Last night there was no exodus, so to-night before the sundown I took away my garlic and other things. And so it is we find this coffin empty. But bear with me. So far there is much that is strange. Wait you with me outside, unseen and unheard, and things much stranger are yet to be. So”—here he shut the dark slide of his lantern—“now to the outside.” He opened the door, and we filed out, he coming last and locking the door behind him.

Oh! but it seemed fresh and pure in the night air after the terror of that vault. How sweet it was to see the clouds race by, and the passing gleams of the moonlight between the scudding clouds crossing and passing—like the gladness and sorrow of a man’s life; how sweet it was to breathe the fresh air, that had no taint of death and decay; how humanising to see the red lighting of the sky beyond the hill, and to hear far away the muffled roar that marks the life of a great city. Each in his own way was solemn and overcome. Arthur was silent, and was, I could see, striving to grasp the purpose and the inner meaning of the mystery. I was myself tolerably patient, and half inclined again to throw aside doubt and to accept Van Helsing's conclusions. Quincey Morris was phlegmatic in the way of a man who accepts all things, and accepts them in the spirit of cool bravery, with hazard of all he has to stake. Not being able to smoke, he cut himself a good-sized plug of tobacco and began to chew. As to Van Helsing, he was employed in a definite way. First he took from his bag a mass of what looked like thin, wafer-like biscuit, which was carefully rolled up in a white napkin; next he took out a double-handful of some whitish stuff, like dough or putty. He crumbled the wafer up fine and worked it into the mass between his hands. This he then took, and rolling it into thin strips, began to lay them into the crevices between the door and its setting in the tomb. I was somewhat puzzled at this, and being close, asked him what it was that he was doing. Arthur and Quincey drew near also, as they too were curious. He answered:—

“I am closing the tomb, so that the Un-Dead may not enter.”

“And is that stuff you have put there going to do it?” asked Quincey. “Great Scott! Is this a game?”

“It is.”

“What is that which you are using?” This time the question was by Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat as he answered:—

“The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an Indulgence.” It was an answer that appalled the most sceptical of us, and we felt individually that in the presence of such earnest purpose as the Professor's, a purpose which could thus use the to him most sacred of things, it was impossible to distrust. In respectful silence we took the places assigned to us close round the tomb, but hidden from the sight of any one approaching. I pitied the others, especially Arthur. I had myself been apprenticed by my former visits to this watching horror; and yet I, who had up to an hour ago repudiated the proofs, felt my heart sink within me. Never did tombs look so ghastly white; never did cypress, or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of funereal gloom; never did tree or grass wave or rustle so ominously; never did bough creak so mysteriously; and never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a woeful presage through the night.

There was a long spell of silence, a big, aching void, and then from the Professor a keen “S-s-s-s!” He pointed; and far down the avenue of yews we saw a white figure advance—a dim white figure, which held something dark at its breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment a ray of moonlight fell upon the masses of driving clouds and showed in startling prominence a dark-haired woman, dressed in the cerements of the grave. We could not see the face, for it was bent down over what we saw to be a fair-haired child. There was a pause and a sharp little cry, such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before the fire and dreams. We were starting forward, but the Professor's warning hand, seen by us as he stood behind a yew-tree, kept us back; and then as we looked the white figure moved forwards again. It was now near enough for us to see clearly, and the moonlight still held. My own heart grew cold as ice, and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognised the features of Lucy Westerna. Lucy Westerna, but yet how changed. The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness. Van Helsing stepped out, and, obedient to his gesture, we all advanced too; the four of us ranged in a line before the door of the tomb. Van Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slide; by the concentrated light that fell on Lucy's face we could see that the lips were crimson with fresh blood, and that the stream had trickled over her chin and stained the purity of her lawn death-robe.

We shuddered with horror. I could see by the tremulous light that even Van Helsing's’s iron nerve had failed. Arthur was next to me, and if I had not seized his arm and held him up, he would have fallen.

When Lucy—I call the thing that was before us Lucy because it bore her shape—saw us she drew back with an angry snarl, such as a cat gives when taken unawares; then her eyes ranged over us. Lucy's eyes in form and colour; but Lucy's eyes unclean and full of hell-fire, instead of the pure, gentle orbs we knew. At that moment the remnant of my love passed into hate and loathing; had she then to be killed, I could have done it with savage delight. As she looked, her eyes blazed with unholy light, and the face became wreathed with a voluptuous smile. Oh, God, how it made me shudder to see it! With a careless motion, she flung to the ground, callous as a devil, the child that up to now she had clutched strenuously to her breast, growling over it as a dog growls over a bone. The child gave a sharp cry, and lay there moaning. There was a cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a groan from Arthur; when she advanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton smile he fell back and hid his face in his hands.

She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, voluptuous grace, said:—

“Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come!”

There was something diabolically sweet in her tones—something of the tingling of glass when struck—which rang through the brains even of us who heard the words addressed to another. As for Arthur, he seemed under a spell; moving his hands from his face, he opened wide his arms. She was leaping for them, when Van Helsing sprang forward and held between them his little golden crucifix. She recoiled from it, and, with a suddenly distorted face, full of rage, dashed past him as if to enter the tomb.

When within a foot or two of the door, however, she stopped, as if arrested by some irresistible force. Then she turned, and her face was shown in the clear burst of moonlight and by the lamp, which had now no quiver from Van Helsing's iron nerves. Never did I see such baffled malice on a face; and never, I trust, shall such ever be seen again by mortal eyes. The beautiful colour became livid, the eyes seemed to throw out sparks of hell-fire, the brows were wrinkled as though the folds of the flesh were the coils of Medusa’s snakes, and the lovely, blood-stained mouthgrew to an open square, as in the passion masks of the Greeks and Japanese. If ever a face meant death—if looks could kill—we saw it at that moment.

And so for full half a minute, which seemed an eternity, she remained between the lifted crucifix and the sacred closing of her means of entry. Van Helsing broke the silence by asking Arthur:—

“Answer me, oh my friend! Am I to proceed in my work?”

Arthur threw himself on his knees, and hid his face in his hands, as he answered:—

“Do as you will, friend; do as you will. There can be no horror like this ever any more;” and he groaned in spirit. Quincey and I simultaneously moved towards him, and took his arms. We could hear the click of the closing lantern as Van Helsing held it down; coming close to the tomb, he began to remove from the chinks some of the sacred emblem which he had placed there. We all looked on in horrified amazement as we saw, when he stood back, the woman, with a corporeal body as real at that moment as our own, pass in through the interstice where scarce a knife-blade could have gone. We all felt a glad sense of relief when we saw the Professor calmly restoring the strings of putty to the edges of the door.

When this was done, he lifted the child and said:

“Come now, my friends; we can do no more till to-morrow. There is a funeral at noon, so here we shall all come before long after that. The friends of the dead will all be gone by two, and when the sexton lock the gate we shall remain. Then there is more to do; but not like this of to-night. As for this little one, he is not much harm, and by to-morrow night he shall be well. We shall leave him where the police will find him, as on the other night; and then to home.” Coming close to Arthur, he said:—

“My friend Arthur, you have had a sore trial; but after, when you look back, you will see how it was necessary. You are now in the bitter waters, my child. By this time to-morrow you will, please God, have passed them, and have drunk of the sweet waters; so do not mourn overmuch. Till then I shall not ask you to forgive me.”

Arthur and Quincey came home with me, and we tried to cheer each other on the way. We had left the child in safety, and were tired; so we all slept with more or less reality of sleep.

September 29th,

—A little before we three—Arthur, Quincey Morris, and myself—called for the Professor. It was odd to notice that by common consent we had all put on black clothes. Of course, Arthur wore black, for he was in deep mourning, but the rest of us wore it by instinct. We got to the churchyard by half-past one, and strolled about, keeping out of official observation, so that when the gravediggers had completed their task and the sexton under the belief that every one had gone, had locked the gate, we had the place all to ourselves. Van Helsing, instead of his little black bag, had with him a long leather one, something like a cricketing bag; it was manifestly of fair weight.

When we were alone and had heard the last of the footsteps die out up the road, we silently, and as if by ordered intention, followed the Professor to the tomb. He unlocked the door, and we entered, closing it behind us. Then he took from his bag the lantern, which he lit, and also two wax candles, which, when lighted, he stuck, by melting their own ends, on other coffins, so that they might give light sufficient to work by. When he again lifted the lid off Lucy's coffin we all looked—Arthur trembling like an aspen—and saw that the body lay there in all its death-beauty But there was no love in my own heart, nothing but loathing for the foul Thing which had taken Lucy's shape without her soul. I could see even Arthur’s face grow hard as he looked. Presently he said to Van Helsing:—

“Is this really Lucy's body, or only a demon in her shape?”

“It is her body, and yet not it. But wait a while, and you all see her as she was, and is.”

She seemed like a nightmare of Lucy as she lay there; the pointed teeth, the bloodstained, voluptuous mouth—which it made one shudder to see—the whole carnal and unspiritual appearance, seeming like a devilish mockery of Lucy's sweet purity. Van Helsing, with his usual methodicalness, began taking the various contents from his bag and placing them ready for use. First he took out a soldering iron and some plumbing solder, and then a small oil-lamp, which gave out, when lit in a corner of the tomb, gas which burned at fierce heat with a blue flame; then his operating knives, which he placed to hand; and last a round wooden stake, some two and a half or three inches thick and about three feet long. One end of it was hardened by charring in the fire, and was sharpened to a fine point. With this stake came a heavy hammer, such as in households is used in the coal-cellar for breaking the lumps. To me, a doctor’s preparations for work of any kind are stimulating and bracing, but the effect of these things on both Arthur and Quincey was to cause them a sort of consternation. They both, however, kept their courage, and remained silent and quiet.

When all was ready, Van Helsing said:—

“Before we do anything, let me tell you this; it is out of the lore and experience of the ancients and of all those who have studied the powers of the Un-Dead. When they become such, there comes with the change the curse of immortality; they cannot die, but must go on age after age adding new victims and multiplying the evils of the world; for all that die from the preying of the Un-Dead becomes themselves Un-Dead, and prey on their kind. And so the circle goes on ever widening, like as the ripples from a stone thrown in the water. Friend Arthur, if you had met that kiss which you know of before poor Lucy die; or again, last night when you open your arms to her, you would in time, when you had died, have become nosferatu, as they call it in Eastern Europe, and would all time make more of those Un-Deads that so have fill us with horror. The career of this so unhappy dear lady is but just begun. Those children whose blood she suck are not as yet so much the worse; but if she live on, Un-Dead, more and more they lose their blood and by her power over them they come to her; and so she draw their blood with that so wicked mouth. But if she die in truth, then all cease; the tiny wounds of the throats disappear, and they go back to their plays unknowing ever of what has been. But of the most blessed of all, when this now Un-Dead be made to rest as true dead, then the soul of the poor lady whom we love shall again be free. Instead of working wickedness by night and growing more debased in the assimilating of it by day, she shall take her place with the other Angels. So that, my friend, it will be a blessed hand for her that shall strike the blow that sets her free. To this I am willing; but is there none amongst us who has a better right? Will it be no joy to think of hereafter in the silence of the night when sleep is not: ‘It was my hand that sent her to the stars; it was the hand of him that loved her best; the hand that of all she would herself have chosen, had it been to her to choose?’ Tell me if there be such a one amongst us?”

We all looked at Arthur. He saw, too, what we all did, the infinite kindness which suggested that his should be the hand which would restore Lucy to us as a holy, and not an unholy, memory; he stepped forward and said bravely, though his hand trembled, and his face was as pale as snow:—

“My true friend, from the bottom of my broken heart I thank you. Tell me what I am to do, and I shall not falter!” Van Helsing laid a hand on his shoulder, and said:—

“Brave lad! A moment’s courage, and it is done. This stake must be driven through her. It will be a fearful ordeal—be not deceived in that—but it will be only a short time, and you will then rejoice more than your pain was great; from this grim tomb you will emerge as though you tread on air. But you must not falter when once you have begun. Only think that we, your true friends, are round you, and that we pray for you all the time.”

“Go on,” said Arthur hoarsely. “Tell me what I am to do.”

“Take this stake in your left hand, ready to place the point over the heart, and the hammer in your right. Then when we begin our prayer for the dead—I shall read him, I have here the book, and the others shall follow—strike in God’s name, that so all may be well with the dead that we love and that the Un-Dead pass away.”

Arthur took the stake and the hammer, and when once his mind was set on action his hands never trembled nor even quivered. Van Helsing opened his missal and began to read, and Quincey and I followed as well as we could. Arthur placed the point over the heart, and as I looked I could see its dint in the white flesh. Then he struck with all his might.

The Thing in the coffin writhed; and a hideous, blood-curdling screech came from the opened red lips. The body shook and quivered and twisted in wild contortions; the sharp white teeth champed together till the lips were cut, and the mouth was smeared with a crimson foam. But Arthur never faltered. He looked like a figure of Thor as his untrembling arm rose and fell, driving deeper and deeper the mercy-bearing stake, whilst the blood from the pierced heart welled and spurted up around it. His face was set, and high duty seemed to shine through it; the sight of it gave us courage so that our voices seemed to ring through the little vault.

And then the writhing and quiveringof the body became less, and the teeth seemed to champ, and the face to quiver. Finally it lay still. The terrible task was over.

The hammer fell from Arthur’s hand. He reeled and would have fallen had we not caught him. The great drops of sweat sprang from his forehead, and his breath came in broken gasps. It had indeed been an awful strain on him; and had he not been forced to his task by more than human considerations he could never have gone through with it. For a few minutes we were so taken up with him that we did not look towards the coffin. When we did, however, a murmur of startled surprise ran from one to the other of us. We gazed so eagerly that Arthur rose, for he had been seated on the ground, and came and looked too; and then a glad, strange light broke over his face and dispelled altogether the gloom of horror that lay upon it.

There, in the coffin lay no longer the foul Thing that we had so dreaded and grown to hate that the work of her destruction was yielded as a privilege to the one best entitled to it, but Lucy as we had seen her in her life, with her face of unequalled sweetness and purity. True that there were there, as we had seen them in life, the traces of care and pain and waste; but these were all dear to us, for they marked her truth to what we knew. One and all we felt that the holy calm that lay like sunshine over the wasted face and form was only an earthly token and symbol of the calm that was to reign for ever.

Van Helsing came and laid his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and said to him:—

“And now, Arthur my friend, dear lad, am I not forgiven?”

The reaction of the terrible strain came as he took the old man’s hand in his, and raising it to his lips, pressed it, and said:—

“Forgiven! God bless you that you have given my dear one her soul again, and me peace.” He put his hands on the Professor's shoulder, and laying his head on his breast, cried for a while silently, whilst we stood unmoving. When he raised his head Van Helsing said to him:—

“And now, my child, you may kiss her. Kiss her dead lips if you will, as she would have you to, if for her to choose. For she is not a grinning devil now—not any more a foul Thing for all eternity. No longer she is the devil’s Un-Dead. She is God’s true dead, whose soul is with Him!”

Arthur bent and kissed her, and then we sent him and Quincey out of the tomb; the Professor and I sawed the top off the stake, leaving the point of it in the body. Then we cut off the head and filled the mouth with garlic. We soldered up the leaden coffin, screwed on the coffin-lid, and gathering up our belongings, came away. When the Professor locked the door he gave the key to Arthur.

Outside the air was sweet, the sun shone, and the birds sang, and it seemed as if all nature were tuned to a different pitch. There was gladness and mirth and peace everywhere, for we were at rest ourselves on one account, and we were glad, though it was with a tempered joy.

Before we moved away Van Helsing said:—

“Now, my friends, one step of our work is done, one the most harrowing to ourselves. But there remains a greater task: to find out the author of all this our sorrow and to stamp him out. I have clues which we can follow; but it is a long task, and a difficult, and there is danger in it, and pain. Shall you not all help me? We have learned to believe, all of us—is it not so? And since so, do we not see our duty? Yes! And do we not promise to go on to the bitter end?”

Each in turn, we took his hand, and the promise was made. Then said the Professor as we moved off:—

“Two nights hence you shall meet with me and dine together at seven of the clock with friend John. I shall entreat two others, two that you know not as yet; and I shall be ready to all our work show and our plans unfold. Friend John, you come with me home, for I have much to consult about, and you can help me. To-night I leave for Amsterdam, but shall return to-morrow night. And then begins our great quest. But first I shall have much to say, so that you may know what is to do and to dread. Then our promise shall be made to each other anew; for there is a terrible task before us, and once our feet are on the ploughshare we must not draw back.”

The Violent Erotic Erotic - What constitutes erotic language was decided through word frequency studies in Victorian pornographic texts. This language set is largely characterized by adjectives such as wanton and voluptuous. Violent - Violent language is characterized by weapons and descriptions of weaponry. I have also included verbs describing violence and words related to wounds and wounding. The Violent Erotic - Violent erotic language describes overlap between the erotic and violent language sets. There are a number of words and phrases that belong to both, implying a shared vocabulary between sex acts and violence.
Arthur Holmwood Arthur Holmwood is the wealthy son of Lord Goldaming. When his father dies, he inherits his title. He is betrothed to Lucy Westerna earlier on in the novel before Count Dracula transforms her into a vampire. Lucy Westenra Lucy Westenra is the best friend of Mina Murray. She comes from a wealthy family and is decribed throughout the novel as physically attractive. She has a history of sleepwalking, which makes her susceptible to Dracula's enchantment. She becomes mysteriously ill several times before dying and returning to life as a vampire. 19 Dr. John Seward Best friends with Arthur Holmwood and Quincey Morris, Dr. Seward is a psychiatrist at a mental institute. His observations of R. M. Renfield allow the reader insight into the characteristics of a vampire. Much of the novel is written from his perspective. Abraham Van Helsing Van Helsing is invited Dr. Seward to help diagnose the condition of Lucy Westerna, whose state is quickly deteriorating. Van Helsing is well-versed in a number of subjects including vampirism. He is the one who first understands that Lucy is the victim of a vampire. After she dies, he instructs Arthur, Dr. Seward, and Quincey on how to kill Lucy's undead corpse. Quincey Morris Quincey Morris is a wealthy American from Texas. He, along with Arthur, Dr. Seward, and Van Helsing, is part of the Crew of Light, which sets out to destroy Dracula