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<title>Chapter 8 - Female Identity and The "New Woman" within Bram Stoker's Dracula</title>
<author>
<persName>Stephanie Awotwi-Pratt</persName>
</author>
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<ab> <date when="2019-04-04"></date></ab>
<ab> <orgName> ENGL305/DIHU301</orgName></ab>
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<bibl>
<note>
Armstrong, Nancy. "Feminism, Fiction, and the Utopian Promise of Dracula." Differences: A Journal of Feminist Cultural Studies, vol. 16, no. 1, 2005, pp. 1-23, https://doi-org.ezproxy.library.ubc.ca/10.1215/10407391-16-1-1.
Demetrakopoulos, Stephanie. “Feminism, Sex Role Exchanges, and Other Subliminal Fantasies in Bram Stoker's ‘Dracula.’” Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies, vol. 2, no. 3, 1977, pp. 104–113, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/3346355.
Johnson, Alan P. "'Dual Life': The Status of Women in Stoker's Dracula.'" Twentieth-Century Literary Criticism, edited by Janet Witalec, vol. 144, Gale, 2004. Literature Resource Center,http://link.galegroup.com.ezproxy.library.ubc.ca/apps/doc/H1420055763/LitRC?u=ubcolumbia. Accessed 10 Mar. 2019. Originally published in Sexuality and Victorian Literature, edited by Don Richard Cox, University of Tennessee Press, 1984, pp. 20-39.
Kline, Salli J. The Degeneration of Women: Bram Stoker's Dracula as Allegorical Criticism of the Fin De Siècle. vol. Bd. 7, CMZ-Verlag, Rheinbach-Merzbach, 1992
Prescott, Charles E., and Grace A. Giorgio. "Vampiric Affinities: Mina Harker and the Paradox of Femininity in Bram Stoker's Dracula." Victorian Literature and Culture, vol. 33, no. 2, 2005, pp. 487-515, https://doi-org.ezproxy.library.ubc.ca/10.1017/S1060150305050953.
Stoker, Bram. "Appendix G: Gender". Dracula. Edited by Glennis Byron, Broadview Edition, 1998.
</note>
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<front>
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</front>
<body>
<!-- main document goes here, possibly divided into <div>s -->
<head>
Mina Murray's Diary
<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina Murray
</persName>
</head>
<p>
<said aloud="unknown">
Same day, 11 o’clock p. m..—Oh, but I am tired! </said>
If it were not that I had made my diary a duty I should not open it tonight. We had a lovely
walk. <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName>, after a while, was in gay spirits, owing, I think, to some dear
cows who came nosing towards us in a field close to the lighthouse, and
frightened the wits out of us. I believe we forgot everything, except of
course, personal fear, and it seemed to wipe the slate clean and give us a
fresh start. We had a capital `severe tea’ at Robin Hood’s Bay in a sweet
little old-fashioned inn, with a bow window right over the seaweed
covered rocks of the strand. I believe we should have shocked the `New
Woman’ with our appetites. Men are more tolerant, bless them!
<note>
<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#Dracula">Dracula
</persName> Mina Murray references the 'New Woman' and the historical shift to the definitions surrounding what it means to be a woman/womanhood as of the 18th century Victorian
era.
</note> Then we walked home with some, or rather many, stoppages to rest, and with our
hearts full of a constant dread of wild bulls.
(<ptr target="#term5"/>) <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> was really tired, and we intended to creep off to bed as soon as we
could. The young curate came in, however, and Mrs. Westenra asked
him to stay for supper. <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> and I had both a fight for it with the dusty
miller. I know it was a hard fight on my part, and I am quite heroic. I
think that some day the bishops must get together and see about
breeding up a new class of curates, who don’t take supper, no matter
how hard they may be pressed to, and who will know when girls are
tired.
(<ptr target="#term5"/>)
Lucy is asleep and breathing softly. She has more color in her cheeks
than usual, and looks, oh so sweet.
<note> It is important to note Mina's expression of affection and love towards <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName>,
not otherwise verbalized throughout the novel, Mina explores her feelings for <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> out of concern. </note>
(<ptr target="#term6"/>) If Mr. Holmwood fell in love with her seeing her only in the drawing room, I wonder what he would say if
he saw her now. Some of the `New Women’ writers will some day start
an idea that men and women should be allowed to see each other asleep
before proposing or accepting. <note> <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina
</persName> makes reference to the 'New Women'
which highlights the contention between men and women and the societal expectations and the imposition
of rules and governance over the female body, on the basis of sex.
</note>
<said aloud="true" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
But I suppose the `New Woman’ won’t
condescend in future to accept. She will do the proposing herself. And a
nice job she will make of it too! <note> <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina
</persName> is critiquing the societal restarint of marraige and
the regualtions behind it. <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina
</persName> is suggesting in this passage that her friend Lucy has every right to
have an abundance of suitors and the liberty of her friend to choose a partner.</note>
There’s some consolation in that. I am (<ptr target="#term5"/>)
so happy tonight, because dear <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> seems better. I really believe she
has turned the corner, and that we are over her troubles with dreaming.
(<ptr target="#term4"/>) I should be quite happy if I only knew if <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#Jonathan">Jonathan
</persName> . . .
God bless and keep him.</said>
</p>
<ab>
<date>
11 August
</date>
</ab>
<div type="diary">
<ab>
Diary again. No sleep now, so I may as well write. I am too
agitated to sleep. We have had such an adventure, such an agonizing
experience. (<ptr target="#term5"/>)
I fell asleep as soon as I had closed my diary . . .Suddenly I
became broad awake, and sat up, with a horrible sense of fear upon me,
and of some feeling of emptiness around me. The room was dark, so I
could not see <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy's
</persName> bed. I stole across and felt for her. The bed was
empty. I lit a match and found that she was not in the room. The door
was shut, but not locked, as I had left it. I feared to wake her mother,
who has been more than usually ill lately, so threw on some clothes and
got ready to look for her. As I was leaving the room it struck me that the
clothes she wore might give me some clue to her dreaming intention.
Dressing-gown would mean house, dress outside. Dressing-gown and
dress were both in their places.
<said aloud="unknown" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“Thank God,” I said to myself, “she
cannot be far, as she is only in her nightdress.”</said>
(<ptr target="#term5"/>)
I ran downstairs and looked in the sitting room. Not there! Then I looked
in all the other rooms of the house, with an ever-growing fear chilling
my heart. Finally, I came to the hall door and found it open. It was not
wide open, but the catch of the lock had not caught. The people of the
house are careful to lock the door every night, so I feared that <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> must
have gone out as she was. There was no time to think of what might
happen. A vague over-mastering fear obscured all details.
I took a big, heavy shawl and ran out. The clock was striking one as I
was in the Crescent, and there was not a soul in sight. I ran along the
North Terrace, but could see no sign of the white figure which I
expected. At the edge of the West Cliff above the pier I looked across
the harbour to the East Cliff, in the hope or fear, I don’t know which, of
seeing Lucy in our favorite seat.
(<ptr target="#term7"/>)
There was a bright full moon, with heavy black, driving clouds, which
threw the whole scene into a fleeting diorama of light and shade as they
sailed across. For a moment or two I could see nothing, as the shadow of
a cloud obscured St. Mary’s Church and all around it. Then as the cloud
passed I could see the ruins of the abbey coming into view, and as the
edge of a narrow band of light as sharp as a sword-cut moved along, the
church and churchyard became gradually visible. Whatever my
expectation was, it was not disappointed, for there, on our favorite seat,
the silver light of the moon struck a half-reclining figure, snowy white.
The coming of the cloud was too quick for me to see much, for shadow
shut down on light almost immediately, but it seemed to me as though
something dark stood behind the seat where the white figure shone, and
bent over it. What it was, whether man or beast, I could not tell.
I did not wait to catch another glance, but flew down the steep steps to
the pier and along by the fish-market to the bridge, which was the only
way to reach the East Cliff. The town seemed as dead, for not a soul did
I see. I rejoiced that it was so, for I wanted no witness of poor <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy's
</persName>
condition. The time and distance seemed endless, and my knees
trembled and my breath came laboured as I toiled up the endless steps to
the abbey. I must have gone fast, and yet it seemed to me as if my feet
were weighted with lead, and as though every joint in my body were
rusty. When I got almost to the top I could see the seat and the white figure, for
I was now close enough to distinguish it even through the spells of
shadow. There was undoubtedly something, long and black, bending
over the half-reclining white figure.
<note> <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina's
</persName> first encounter with Count Dracula </note>
I called in fright,
<said aloud="true" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy! Lucy!</persName>”
</said>
and something raised a head, and from where I was I could see a white face
and red, gleaming eyes.
(<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#Dracula">Dracula
</persName>)
<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> did not answer, and I ran on to the entrance of the churchyard. As I
entered, the church was between me and the seat, and for a minute or so I lost sight of her. When I came in view again the cloud had passed, and
the moonlight struck so brilliantly that I could see <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> half reclining
with her head lying over the back of the seat.
She was quite alone, (<ptr target="#term5"/>)and there was not a sign of any living thing about.
When I bent over her I could see that she was still asleep. Her lips were
parted, and she was breathing, not softly as usual with her, but in long,
heavy gasps, as though striving to get her lungs full at every breath. As I
came close, she put up her hand in her sleep and pulled the collar of her
nightdress close around her, (<ptr target="#term3"/>) as though she felt the cold. I flung the warm
shawl over her, and drew the edges tight around her neck, for I dreaded
lest she should get some deadly chill from the night air, unclad as she
was. I feared to wake her all at once, so, in order to have my hands free
to help her, I fastened the shawl at her throat with a big safety pin. (<ptr target="#term7"/>)But I
must have been clumsy in my anxiety and pinched or pricked her with it,
for by-and-by, when her breathing became quieter, she put her hand to
her throat again and moaned. When I had her carefully wrapped up I put
my shoes on her feet, and then began very gently to wake her.
(<ptr target="#term5"/>)
At first she did not respond, but gradually she became more and more
uneasy in her sleep, moaning and sighing occasionally. (<ptr target="#term5"/>)
At last, as time was passing fast, and for many other reasons, I wished to get her home
at once, I shook her forcibly, (<ptr target="#term3"/>) till finally she opened her eyes and awoke.
She did not seem surprised to see me, as, of course, she did not realize
all at once where she was. (<ptr target="#term3"/>)
<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> always wakes prettily, and even at such a time,when her body must
have been chilled with cold, and her mind somewhat appalled at waking
unclad in a churchyard at night, she did not lose her grace. She trembled
a little, and clung to me. When I told her to come at once with me home,
she rose without a word, with the obedience of a child. <note>
Mina is making a critique of the obediant and subserviant nature of being a woman. Mina
is suggesting here that <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> is complicit and compliant to orders.
</note> As we passed along, the gravel hurt my feet, and <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> noticed me wince.(<ptr target="#term7"/>) She stopped
and wanted to insist upon my taking my shoes, but I would not.
However, when we got to the pathway outside the chruchyard, where
there was a puddle of water, remaining from the storm, I daubed my feet
with mud, using each foot in turn on the other, so that as we went home,
no one, in case we should meet any one, should notice my bare feet.
Fortune favoured us, and we got home without meeting a soul. Once we
saw a man, who seemed not quite sober, passing along a street in front
of us. But we hid in a door till he had disappeared up an opening such as
there are here, steep little closes, or `wynds’, as they call them in
Scotland. My heart beat so loud all the time sometimes I thought I
should faint. (<ptr target="#term7"/>) I was filled with anxiety about <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName>, not only for her
health, lest she should suffer from the exposure, but for her reputation in
case the story should get wind. When we got in, and had washed our
feet, and had said a prayer of thankfulness together, I tucked her into
bed. Before falling asleep she asked, even implored, me not to say a
word to any one, even her mother, about her sleepwalking adventure.
I hesitated at first, to promise, but on thinking of the state of her
mother’s health, and how the knowledge of such a thing would fret her,
and think too, of how such a story might become distorted, nay,
infallibly would, in case it should leak out, I thought it wiser to do so. I
hope I did right. I have locked the door, and the key is tied to my wrist,
so perhaps I shall not be again disturbed. <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> is sleeping soundly. The
reflex of the dawn is high and far over the sea . . .
Same day, noon.—All goes well. <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> slept till I woke her and seemed
not to have even changed her side. (<ptr target="#term3"/>)The adventure of the night does not
seem to have harmed her, on the contrary, it has benefited her, for she
looks better this morning than she has done for weeks. I was sorry to
notice that my clumsiness with the safety-pin hurt her. Indeed, it might
have been serious, for the skin of her throat was pierced. I must have
pinched up a piece of loose skin and have transfixed it, for there are two
little red points like pin-pricks, and on the band of her nightdress was a
drop of blood. When I apologised and was concerned about it, (<ptr target="#term5"/>) she
laughed and petted me, and said she did not even feel it. Fortunately it
cannot leave a scar, as it is so tiny.
(<ptr target="#term2"/>)
Same day, night.We passed a happy day. The air was clear, and the
sun bright, and there was a cool breeze. We took our lunch to Mulgrave
Woods, <persName>Mrs. Westenra </persName>driving by the road and <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> and I walking by
the cliff-path and joining her at the gate. I felt a little sad myself, for I
could not but feel how absolutely happy it would have been had
Jonathan been with me. But there! I must only be patient. In the evening
we strolled in the Casino Terrace, and heard some good music by Spohr
and Mackenzie, and went to bed early.(<ptr target="#term5"/>)<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> seems more restful than she
has been for some time, and fell asleep at once. I shall lock the door and
secure the key the same as before, though I do not expect any trouble
tonight.
</ab>
</div>
<div>
<dateline>
12 August
</dateline>
<gap>
</gap>
</div>
<div>
<p>
My expectations were wrong, for twice during the night I
was wakened by <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> trying to get out. She seemed, even in her sleep,
to be a little impatient at finding the door shut, and went back to bed
under a sort of protest (<ptr target="#term5"/>). I woke with the dawn, and heard the birds
chirping outside of the window. <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> woke, too, and I was glad to see,
was even better than on the previous morning. All her old gaiety of
manner seemed to have come back, and she came and snuggled in beside
me and told me all about <persName>Arthur </persName>. I told her how anxious I was about
<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#Jonathan">Jonathan
</persName>, and then she tried to comfort me. Well, she succeeded
somewhat, for, though sympathy can’t alter facts, it can make them more
bearable.
</p>
</div>
<div type= "diary">
<dateline>
13 August.
</dateline>
<ab>
Another quiet day, and to bed with the key on my wrist as
before. Again I awoke in the night, and found <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> sitting up in bed,
still asleep, pointing to the window. I got up quietly, and pulling aside
the blind, looked out. It was brilliant moonlight, and the soft effect of the
light over the sea and sky, merged together in one great silent mystery,
was beautiful beyond words. Between me and the moonlight flitted a
great bat, coming and going in great whirling circles. Once or twice it
came quite close, but was, I suppose, frightened at seeing me, and flitted
away across the harbour towards the abbey. When I came back from the
window <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> had lain down again, and was sleeping peacefully. She did
not stir again all night.
</ab>
</div>
<div>
<dateline>
14 August
</dateline>
<p>
On the East Cliff, reading and writing all day. <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra"> Lucy
</persName> seems
to have become as much in love with the spot as I am, and it is hard to
get her away from it when it is time to come home for lunch or tea or
dinner. This afternoon she made a funny remark. We were coming home
for dinner, and had come to the top of the steps up from the West Pier
and stopped to look at the view, as we generally do. The setting sun, low
down in the sky, was just dropping behind Kettleness. The red light was
thrown over on the East Cliff and the old abbey, and seemed to bathe
everything in a beautiful rosy glow. We were silent for a while, and
suddenly <persName ref="bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> murmured as if to herself . . .
<said aloud="true" rend="pre(“) post(”)">“His red eyes again!
They are just the same.”</said> It was such an odd
expression, coming apropos of nothing, that it quite startled me. I slewed
round a little, so as to see <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> well without seeming to stare at her, and
saw that she was in a half dreamy state, with an odd look on her face that
I could not quite make out, so I said nothing, but followed her eyes. She
appeared to be looking over at our own seat, whereon was a dark figure
seated alone. I was quite a little startled myself, for it seemed for an
instant as if the stranger had great eyes like burning flames, but a second
look dispelled the illusion. The red sunlight was shining on the windows
of St. Mary’s Church behind our seat, and as the sun dipped there was
just sufficient change in the refraction and reflection to make it appear as
if the light moved. I called <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy’s
</persName> attention to the peculiar effect, and
she became herself with a start, but she looked sad all the same.
(<ptr target="#term5"/>)
It may have been that she was thinking of that terrible night up there. We never
refer to it, so I said nothing, and we went home to dinner. <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> had a headache and went early to bed.I saw her asleep, and went out for a little stroll myself.
(<ptr target="#term3"/>) I walked along the cliffs
to the westward, and was full of sweet sadness,
for I was thinking of <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#Jonathan">Jonathan
</persName> . When coming home, it was then bright
moonlight, so bright that, though the front of our part of the Crescent
was in shadow, everything could be well seen, I threw a glance up at our
window, and saw <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy’s
</persName> head leaning out. I opened my handkerchief
and waved it. She did not notice or make any movement whatever. Just
then, the moonlight crept round an angle of the building, and the light
fell on the window. There distinctly was <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName>with her head lying up
against the side of the window sill and her eyes shut. She was fast
asleep, and by her, seated on the window sill, was something that looked
like a good-sized bird. I was afraid she might get a chill,
(<ptr target="#term3"/>) so I ran upstairs, but as I came into the room
she was moving back to her bed,
fast asleep, and breathing heavily. She was holding her hand to her
throat, as though to protect if from the cold.
I did not wake her, but tucked her up warmly. I have taken care that the
door is locked and the window securely fastened.
She looks so sweet as she sleeps, but she is paler than is her wont, and
there is a drawn, haggard look under her eyes which I do not like. I fear
she is fretting about something. I wish I could find out what it is.
(<ptr target="#term5"/>)
</p>
<div>
<dateline>
15 August.
</dateline>
</div>
<div>
<p>
Rose later than usual. <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> was languid and tired, and slept
on after we had been called. We had a happy surprise at breakfast.
Arthur’s father is better, and wants the marriage to come off soon. <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> is full of quiet joy, and her mother is glad and sorry at once. Later on in
the day she told me the cause. She is grieved to lose <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> as her very
own, but she is rejoiced that she is soon to have some one to protect her.
<said aloud="unknown" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
Poor dear, sweet lady! </said>
She confided to me that she has got her death
warrant. She has not told <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName>, and made me promise secrecy. Her
doctor told her that within a few months, at most, she must die, for her
heart is weakening. At any time, even now, a sudden shock would be
almost sure to kill her. Ah, we were wise to keep from her the affair of
the dreadful night of <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy's
</persName> sleep-walking.
(<ptr target="#term5"/>)
</p>
</div>
<div>
<p>
No diary for two whole days. I have not had the heart to
write.
<note>
<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina
</persName> descerns that she feels exasperated from keeping the secret from Lucy about her
mother, and her true feelings about <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy's
</persName> sleep walking habits and disapearence.
</note>
Some sort of shadowy pall seems to be coming over our
happiness. No news from Jonathan, and Lucy seems to be growing
weaker, whilst her mother’s hours are numbering to a close. I do not
understand <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy's
</persName> fading away as she is doing. She eats well and sleeps
well, and enjoys the fresh air, but all the time the roses in her cheeks are
fading, and she gets weaker and more languid day by day. At night I
hear her gasping as if for air.
I keep the key of our door always fastened to my wrist at night, but she
gets up and walks about the room, and sits at the open window. Last
night I found her leaning out when I woke up, and when I tried to wake
her I could not.
She was in a faint. When I managed to restore her, she was weak as
water, and cried silently between long, painful struggles for breath.
When I asked her how she came to be at the window she shook her head
and turned away.
I trust her feeling ill may not be from that unlucky prick of the safetypin.
(<ptr target="#term5"/>)
I looked at her throat just now as she lay asleep, and the tiny
wounds seem not to have healed. They are still open, and, if anything,
larger than before, and the edges of them are faintly white. They are like
little white dots with red centres. Unless they heal within a day or two, I
shall insist on the doctor seeing about them.
</p>
</div>
<div>
<dateline>
17 August
</dateline>
</div>
<div>
<head>LETTER, SAMUEL F. BILLINGTON & SON, SOLICITORS WHITBY, TO MESSRS. CARTER, PATERSON & CO., LONDON
</head>
</div>
<div type= "letter">
<p>
<said aloud="false" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“Dear Sirs,
“Herewith please receive invoice of goods sent by Great Northern
Railway. Same are to be delivered at Carfax, near Purfleet, immediately
on receipt at goods station King’s Cross. The house is at present empty,
but enclosed please find keys, all of which are labelled.
You will please deposit the boxes, fifty in number, which form the
consignment, in the partially ruined building forming part of the house
and marked `A’ on rough diagrams enclosed. Your agent will easily
recognize the locality, as it is the ancient chapel of the mansion. The
goods leave by the train at 9:30 tonight, and will be due at King’s Cross
at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon. As our client wishes the delivery made as
soon as possible, we shall be obliged by your having teams ready at
King’s Cross at the time named and forthwith conveying the goods to
destination. In order to obviate any delays possible through any routine
requirements as to payment in your departments, we enclose cheque
herewith for ten pounds, receipt of which please acknowledge. Should
the charge be less than this amount, you can return balance, if greater,
we shall at once send cheque for difference on hearing from you. You
are to leave the keys on coming away in the main hall of the house,
where the proprietor may get them on his entering the house by means of
his duplicate key.
<said aloud="false" rend="pre(“) post(”)">“Pray do not take us as exceeding the bounds of business courtesy in
pressing you in all ways to use the utmost expedition.
“We are, dear Sirs,
“Faithfully yours,
“SAMUEL F. BILLINGTON &SON”
</said>
</said>
</p>
</div>
<div>
<head place="margin">
LETTER, MESSRS. CARTER, PATERSON & CO., LONDON, TO
MESSRS. BILLINGTON & SON, WHITBY.
</head>
</div>
<div>
<dateline>
21 August
</dateline>
</div>
<div type="letter">
<p>
<said aloud="false" rend="pre(“) post(”)">>“Dear Sirs,
“We beg to acknowledge 10 pounds received and to return cheque of 1
pound, 17s, 9d, amount of overplus, as shown in receipted account
herewith. Goods are delivered in exact accordance with instructions, and
keys left in parcel in main hall, as directed.
“We are, dear Sirs, “Yours
respectfully,
“Pro CARTER, PATERSON & CO.”</said>
</p>
</div>
<div>
<head>
<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina
</persName> Murray's Journal
</head>
</div>
<div>
<dateline>
18 August
</dateline>
</div>
<div>
<p>
(<ptr target="#term4"/>)
I am happy today, and write sitting on the seat in the
churchyard. <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> is ever so much better. Last night she slept well all
night, and did not disturb me once.
The roses seem coming back already to her cheeks, though she is still
sadly pale and wan-looking. If she were in any way anemic I could
understand it, but she is not. She is in gay spirits and full of life and
cheerfulness. All the morbid reticence seems to have passed from her,
and she has just reminded me, as if I needed any reminding, of that
night, and that it was here, on this very seat, I found her asleep.
As she told me she tapped playfully with the heel of her boot on the
stone slab and said,
<said aloud="true" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“My poor little feet didn’t make much noise then! I daresay poor old Mr.
Swales would have told me that it was because I didn’t want to wake up
Geordie.”</said>
As she was in such a communicative humour, I asked her if she had
dreamed at all that night.
Before she answered, that sweet, puckered look came into her forehead,
which Arthur, I call him Arthur from her habit, says he loves, and
indeed, I don’t wonder that he does. Then she went on in a halfdreaming
kind of way, as if trying to recall it to herself.
<said aloud="true" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“I didn’t quite dream, but it all seemed to be real. I only wanted to be
here in this spot. I don’t know why, for I was afraid of something, I
don’t know what. I remember, though I suppose I was asleep, passing
through the streets and over the bridge. A fish leaped as I went by, and I
leaned over to look at it, and I heard a lot of dogs howling. The whole
town seemed as if it must be full of dogs all howling at once, as I went
up the steps. Then I had a vague memory of something long and dark
with red eyes, just as we saw in the sunset, and something very sweet
and very bitter all around me at once. And then I seemed sinking into
deep green water, and there was a singing in my ears, as I have heard
there is to drowning men, and then everything seemed passing away
from me. My soul seemed to go out from my body and float about the
air. I seem to remember that once the West Lighthouse was right under
me, and then there was a sort of agonizing feeling, as if I were in an
earthquake, and I came back and found you shaking my body. I saw you
do it before I felt you.”</said>
(<ptr target="#term5"/>)Then she began to laugh.
It seemed a little uncanny to me, and I listened
to her breathlessly. I did not quite like it, and thought it better not to
keep her mind on the subject, so we drifted on to another subject, and
Lucy was like her old self again. When we got home the fresh breeze
had braced her up, and her pale cheeks were really more rosy. Her
mother rejoiced when she saw her, and we all spent a very happy
evening together.
</p>
</div>
<div>
<dateline>
19 August
</dateline>
</div>
<div xml:id="term1" type="diary">
<p>
—Joy, joy, joy! Although not all joy. At last, news of
<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#Jonathan">Jonathan
</persName> . The dear fellow has been ill, that is why he did not write. I am
not afraid to think it or to say it, now that I know. Mr. Hawkins sent me
on the letter, and wrote himself, oh so kindly. I am to leave in the
morning and go over to Jonathan, and to help to nurse him if necessary,
and to bring him home. Mr. Hawkins says it would not be a bad thing if
we were to be married out there. I have cried over the good Sister’s letter
till I can feel it wet against my bosom, where it lies. It is of Jonathan,
and must be near my heart, for he is in my heart. My journey is all
mapped out, and my luggage ready. I am only taking one change of
dress. <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> will bring my trunk to London and keep it till I send for it,
for it may be that . . . I must write no more. I must keep it to say to
<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#Jonathan">Jonathan
</persName>, my husband. The letter that he has seen and touched must
comfort me till we meet.
<note> <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray"> Mina
</persName> determines that writing in her diary gives her a voice to which society and the outside world silences
because of her status as a woman in the within the Victorian era </note>
</p>
</div>
<div>
<head>
LETTER, SISTER AGATHA, HOSPITAL OF ST. JOSEPH AND STE.
MARY BUDA-PESTH, TO MISS WILLHELMINA MURRAY
</head>
</div>
<div>
<dateline>
12 August
</dateline>
</div>
<div type="letter">
<p>
<said aloud="false" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
Dear Madam.
“I write by desire of Mr. <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#Jonathan">Jonathan
</persName> Harker, who is himself not strong
enough to write, though progressing well, thanks to God and St. Joseph
and Ste. Mary. He has been under our care for nearly six weeks,
suffering from a violent brain fever. He wishes me to convey his love,
and to say that by this post I write for him to Mr. Peter Hawkins, Exeter,
to say, with his dutiful respects, that he is sorry for his delay, and that all
of his work is completed. He will require some few weeks’ rest in our
sanatorium in the hills, but will then return. He wishes me to say that he
has not sufficient money with him, and that he would like to pay for his
staying here, so that others who need shall not be wanting for help.
Believe me,
Yours, with sympathy
and all blessings. Sister Agatha”</said>
<said aloud="false" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“P. S.—My patient being asleep, I open this to let you know something
more. He has told me all about you, and that you are shortly to be his
wife. All blessings to you both! He has had some fearful shock, so says
our doctor, and in his delirium his ravings have been dreadful, of wolves
and poison and blood, of ghosts and demons, and I fear to say of what.
Be careful of him always that there may be nothing to excite him of this
kind for a long time to come. The traces of such an illness as his do not
lightly die away. We should have written long ago, but we knew nothing
of his friends, and there was nothing on him, nothing that anyone could
understand. He came in the train from Klausenburg, and the guard was
told by the station master there that he rushed into the station shouting
for a ticket for home. Seeing from his violent demeanor that he was
English, they gave him a ticket for the furthest station on the way thither
that the train reached."</said>
<said aloud="false" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“Be assured that he is well cared for. He has won all hearts by his
sweetness and gentleness. He is truly getting on well, and I have no
doubt will in a few weeks be all himself. But be careful of him for
safety’s sake. There are, I pray God and St. Joseph and Ste.Mary, many,
many, happy years for you both.”
</said>
</p>
</div>
<div>
<head>
<persName ref="bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#Seward">Dr.Seward's
</persName> Diary
</head>
</div>
<div>
<dateline>
19 Agust
</dateline>
</div>
<div type= "diary" >
<p>
Strange and sudden change in Renfield last night. About
eight o’clock he began to get excited and sniff about as a dog does when
setting. The attendant was struck by his manner, and knowing my
interest in him, encouraged him to talk. He is usually respectful to the
attendant and at times servile, but tonight, the man tells me, he was quite
haughty. Would not condescend to talk with him at all.
All he would say was,<said aloud="unknown" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“I don’t want to talk to you. You don’t count
now. The master is at hand.”</said>
The attendant thinks it is some sudden form of religious mania which
has seized him. If so, we must look out for squalls, for a strong man with
homicidal and religious mania at once might be dangerous. The
combination is a dreadful one.
At Nine o’clock I visited him myself. His attitude to me was the same as
that to the attendant. In his sublime selffeeling the difference between
myself and the attendant seemed to him as nothing. It looks like
religious mania, and he will soon think that he himself is God.
These infinitesimal distinctions between man and man are too paltry for
an Omnipotent Being. How these madmen give themselves away! The
real God taketh heed lest a sparrow fall. But the God created from
human vanity sees no difference between an eagle and a sparrow. Oh, if
men only knew!
For half an hour or more Renfield kept getting excited in greater and
greater degree. I did not pretend to be watching him, but I kept strict
observation all the same. All at once that shifty look came into his eyes
which we always see when a madman has seized an idea, and with it the
shifty movement of the head and back which asylum attendants come to
know so well. He became quite quiet, and went and sat on the edge of
his bed resignedly, and looked into space with lack-luster eyes.
I thought I would find out if his apathy were real or only assumed, and
tried to lead him to talk of his pets, a theme which had never failed to
excite his attention.
At first he made no reply, but at length said testily,
<said aloud="true" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“Bother them all! I
don’t care a pin about them.”</said>
<said aloud="true" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“What”</said>
I said. <said aloud="false" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“You don’t mean to tell me you don’t care about
spiders?”</said> (Spiders at present are his hobby and the notebook is filling up
with columns of small figures.)
To this he answered enigmatically, <said aloud="false" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“The Bride maidens rejoice the eyes
that wait the coming of the bride. But when the bride draweth nigh, then
the maidens shine not to the eyes that are filled.”</said>
He would not explain himself, but remained obstinately seated on his
bed all the time I remained with him.
I am weary tonight and low in spirits. I cannot but think of <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> and how different things might have been. (<ptr target="#term3"/>)
If I don’t sleep at once, chloral, the modern Morpheus! I must be careful not to let it grow into a habit.
No, I shall take none tonight! I have thought of <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName>, and I shall not
dishonour her by mixing the two. If need by, tonight shall be sleepless.
Later.—Glad I made the resolution, gladder that I kept to it. I had lain
tossing about, and had heard the clock strike only twice, when the night
watchman came to me, sent up from the ward, to say that Renfield had
escaped. I threw on my clothes and ran down at once. My patient is too
dangerous a person to be roaming about. Those ideas of his might work
out dangerously with strangers.
The attendant was waiting for me. He said he had seen him not ten
minutes before, seemingly asleep in his bed, when he had looked
through the observation trap in the door. His attention was called by the
sound of the window being wrenched out. He ran back and saw his feet
disappear through the window, and had at once sent up for me. He was
only in his night gear, and cannot be far off.
The attendant thought it would be more useful to watch where he should
go than to follow him, as he might lose sight of him whilst getting out of
the building by the door. He is a bulky man, and couldn’t get through the
window.
I am thin, so, with his aid, I got out, but feet foremost, and as we were
only a few feet above ground landed unhurt.
The attendant told me the patient had gone to the left, and had taken a
straight line, so I ran as quickly as I could. As I got through the belt of
trees I saw a white figure scale the high wall which separates our
grounds from those of the deserted house. I ran back at once, told the watchman to get three or four men
immediately and follow me into the grounds of Carfax, in case our
friend might be dangerous. I got a ladder myself, and crossing the wall,
dropped down on the other side. I could see Renfield’s figure just
disappearing behind the angle of the house, so I ran after him. On the far
side of the house I found him pressed close against the old ironbound
oak door of the chapel.He was talking, apparently to some one, but I was afraid to go near
enough to hear what he was saying, les t I might frighten him, and he
should run off. Chasing an errant swarm of bees is nothing to following a naked lunatic,
when the fit of escaping is upon him! After a few minutes, however, I
could see that he did not take note of anything around him, and so
ventured to draw nearer to him, the more so as my men had now crossed
the wall and were closing him in. I heard him say.
<said aloud="true" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“I am here to do your bidding, Master. I am your slave, and you will
reward me, for I shall be faithful. I have worshipped you long and afar
off. Now that you are near, I await your commands, and you will not
pass me by, will you, dear Master, in your distribution of good things?”</said>
He is a selfish old beggar anyhow. He thinks of the loaves and fishes
even when he believes his is in a real Presence. His manias make a
startling combination. When we closed in on him he fought like a tiger.
He is immensely strong, for he was more like a wild beast than a man.
I never saw a lunatic in such a paroxysm of rage before, and I hope I
shall not again. It is a mercy that we have found out his strength and his
danger in good time. With strength and determination like his, he might
have done wild work before he was caged.
He is safe now, at any rate. Jack Sheppard himself couldn’t get free from
the strait waistcoat that keeps him restrained, and he’s chained to the
wall in the padded room.
His cries are at times awful, but the silences that follow are more deadly
still, for he means murder in every turn and movement.
Just now he spoke coherent words for the first time.
<said aloud="true" rend="pre(“) post(”)">
“I shall be patient,
Master. It is coming, coming, coming!”</said>
So I took the hint, and came too. I was too excited to sleep, but this diary
has quieted me, and I feel I shall get some sleep tonight.
</p>
</div>
</div>
</body>
<back>
<div>
<listPerson>
<person corresp="#urltothepersonography">
<persName>Mina Murray Harker</persName>
</person>
<listRelation>
<relation xml:id="relation1" type="letter" active="#lucy" passive="mina">
<desc>Letter between <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina
</persName> and Lucy</desc>
</relation>
<relation xml:id="relation6" type="affection" active="#mina" passive="#Lucy">
<desc><persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina
</persName> communicates her love for <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> using these terms: <rs corresp="#term7"
>dearest</rs>, <rs corresp="#term2">precious</rs></desc>
</relation>
</listRelation>
</listPerson>
<index>
<term xml:id="term5" type="concern"><w>dear</w></term>
<term xml:id="term2" type="possession">adoration</term>
<term xml:id="term3" type="affection">love</term>
<term xml:id="term4" type="friendship"> friend</term>
<term xml:id="term7" type="sisterlylove"> fidelity</term>
<term xml:id="term6" type="attraction">loving friend</term>
</index>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<note>
<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina
</persName> , through the mode of writing in her diary, she is able to express her affections and feelings,
most significantly towards her friend <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#LucyWestenra">Lucy
</persName> (Stoker 474). However, the chapter also explores the constraint of female
agency and liberty within the Victorian era. Women were not given the liberties to do and say what they wanted,
therefore, <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina
</persName> is able to enact her agency through the process of letter writing (473). The reference within chapter
8 of the 'New Woman' is significant because <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina
</persName> is challenging the constraints of womanhood and self determianncy (475).
<persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina
</persName> is able to construct her own thoughts and identity through her diaries to express the turn in expectations of
women within her time (124). The difference and differentiation of sex and gender dictates that the men, especially
within the novel Dracula, are significantly higher in power as compared to women (475). However, <persName ref="/bram-stokers-dracula-digital/files/personography-dracula.xml#MinaMurray">Mina
</persName> , through journal
writing, challenges the differentiation of power, authority and voice as the novel unfolds (475).
</note>
</div>
</div>
</back>
</text>
</TEI>
