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<title><hi rend="bold">CHAPTER 20</hi></title>
</titleStmt>
<publicationStmt>
<p><hi rend="bold">Dracula: The Project Gutenberg Ebook, 2013</hi></p>
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<sourceDesc>
<p>Bram Stoker's Dracula: A Digital Edition; Version prepared, edited, and annotated by
Marcgraf Gregorio </p>
<p>for The University of British Columbia Digital Humanities (301) class of 2019. </p>
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<body>
<div type="header">
<head> Jonathan Harker's Journal</head>
</div>
<div type="journal">
<dateline> 1 October </dateline>
<p>
<persName>
<ref target="#Jonathan">I</ref></persName> found <persName>Thomas Snelling</persName> in
his house at <placeName>Bethnal Green</placeName>, but unhappily he was not in a condition
to remember anything. The very prospect of beer which my expected coming had opened to him
had proved too much, and he had begun too early on his expected debauch. I learned,
however, from his wife, who seemed a decent, poor soul, that he was only the assistant to
<persName>Smollet</persName>, who of the two mates was the responsible person. So off I
drove to <placeName>Walworth</placeName>, and found Mr.<persName>Joseph Smollet</persName>
at home and in his shirtsleeves, taking a late tea out of a saucer. He is a decent,
intelligent fellow, distinctly a good, reliable type of workman, and with a headpiece of
his own. He remembered all about the incident of the boxes, and from a wonderful
dog’s-eared notebook, which he produced from some mysterious receptacle about the seat of
his trousers, and which had hieroglyphical entries in thick, half-obliterated pencil, he
gave me the destinations of the boxes. There were, he said, six in the cartload which he
took from <placeName><ref target="#Carfax">Carfax</ref></placeName> and left at
<placeName>197, Chicksand Street, Mile End New Town</placeName>, and another six which
he deposited at <placeName>Jamaica Lane, Bermondsey</placeName>. If then the
<persName><ref target="#Dracula">Count</ref></persName> meant to scatter these ghastly
refuges of his over <placeName><ref target="#London">London</ref></placeName>, these
places were chosen as the first of delivery, so that later he might distribute more fully.
The systematic manner in which this was done made me think that he could not mean to
confine himself to two sides of <placeName><ref target="#London">London</ref></placeName>.
He was now fixed on the far east of the northern shore, on the east of the southern shore,
and on the south. The north and west were surely never meant to be left out of his
diabolical scheme—<ref target="#reflections"><ref target="#disparity"><ref
target="classism">let alone the City itself and the very heart of fashionable<ref
target="#London">London</ref> in the south-west and west</ref></ref></ref>. I went
back to <persName>Smollet</persName>, and asked him if he could tell us if any other boxes
had been taken from <placeName><ref target="#Carfax">Carfax</ref></placeName>. </p>
</div>
<div>
<p>He replied:—</p>
<p>"<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">Well, guv’nor, you’ve treated me wery
’an’some”—I had given him half a sovereign—“an’ I’ll tell yer all I know. I heard a
man by the name of <persName>Bloxam</persName> say four nights ago in the ’Are an’
’Ounds, in <placeName>Pincher’s Alley</placeName>, as ’ow he an’ his mate ’ad ’ad a
rare dusty job in a old ’ouse at <placeName>Purfect</placeName>. There ain’t a-many
such jobs as this ’ere, an’ I’m thinkin’ that maybe <persName>Sam Bloxam</persName>
could tell ye summut</ref></hi></said>." I asked if he could tell me where to find
him. I told him that if he could get me the address it would be worth another
half-sovereign to him. So he gulped down the rest of his tea and stood up, saying that he
was going to begin the search then and there. At the door he stopped, and said:—</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">Look ’ere, guv’nor, there ain’t no
sense in me a-keepin’ you ’ere. I may find <persName>Sam</persName> soon, or I
mayn’t; but anyhow he ain’t like to be in a way to tell ye much to-night.
<persName>Sam</persName> is a rare one when he starts on the booze. If you can
give me a envelope with a stamp on it, and put yer address on it, I’ll find out
where <persName>Sam</persName> is to be found and post it ye to-night. But ye’d
better be up arter ’im soon in the mornin’, or maybe ye won’t ketch ’im; for Sam
gets off main early, never mind the booze the night afore.</ref></hi></said>”</p>
<p>This was all practical, so one of the children went off with a penny to buy an envelope
and a sheet of paper, and <ref target="#classism">to keep the change</ref>. When she came
back, I addressed the envelope and stamped it, and when <persName>Smollet</persName> had
again faithfully promised to post the address when found, I took my way to home. We’re on
the track anyhow. I am tired tonight, and want sleep. <persName><ref target="#MinaMurray"
>Mina</ref></persName> is fast asleep, and looks a little too pale; her eyes look as
though she had been crying. Poor dear, I’ve no doubt it frets her to be kept in the dark,
and it may make her doubly anxious about me and the others. But it is best as it is. It is
better to be disappointed and worried in such a way now than to have her nerve broken. The
doctors were quite right to insist on her being kept out of this dreadful business. I must
be firm, for on me this particular burden of silence must rest. I shall not ever enter on
the subject with her under any circumstances. Indeed, it may not be a hard task, after
all, for she herself has become reticent on the subject, and has not spoken of the
<persName><ref target="#Dracula">Count</ref></persName> or his doings ever since we
told her of our decision.</p>
<p> </p>
</div>
<div type="journal">
<dateline>2 October: Evening </dateline>
<p>—A long and trying and exciting day. By the first post I got my directed envelope with a
dirty scrap of paper enclosed, on which was written with a carpenter’s pencil in a
sprawling hand:—</p>
<p>“<writing><hi rend="ul"><persName>Sam Bloxam</persName>, <placeName><ref
target="#colloquial"><ref target="#disparity">Korkrans, 4, Poters Cort, Bartel
Street, Walworth</ref></ref></placeName>. <ref target="#colloquial">Arsk for the
depite</ref>.</hi></writing>”</p>
<p>I got the letter in bed, and rose without waking <persName><ref target="#MinaMurray"
>Mina</ref></persName>. She looked heavy and sleepy and pale, and far from well. I
determined not to wake her, but that, when I should return from this new search, I would
arrange for her going back to <placeName>Exeter</placeName>. I think she would be happier
in our own home, with her daily tasks to interest her, than in being here amongst us and
in ignorance. I only saw <persName><ref target="#Dr.Seward">Dr.Seward</ref></persName> for
a moment, and told him where I was off to, promising to come back and tell the rest so
soon as I should have found out anything. I drove to <placeName>Walworth</placeName> and
found, with some difficulty, <placeName>Potter’s Court</placeName>.<ref
target="#reflections"> Mr. Smollet’s spelling misled me </ref>, as I asked for
<placeName>Poter’s Court</placeName> instead of <placeName>Potter’s Court.</placeName>
However, when I had found the court, I had no difficulty in discovering
<persName>Corcoran</persName>’s lodging-house. When I asked the man who came to the door
for the “<hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">depite,</ref></hi>” he shook his
head, and said: “<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">I dunno ’im. There
ain’t no such a person ’ere; I never ’eard of ’im in all my bloomin’ days. Don’t
believe there ain’t nobody of that kind livin’ ere or anywheres.</ref></hi></said>”
I took out <persName>Smollet</persName>’s letter, and as I read it it seemed to me that
the lesson of the spelling of the name of the court might guide me. “<said><hi
rend="italic">What are you?</hi></said>” I asked.</p>
<p/>
</div>
<div>
<p><said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">“I’m the depity</ref>,</hi></said>” he
answered. I saw at once that I was on the right track; phonetic spelling had again misled
me. A half-crown tip put the deputy’s knowledge at my disposal, and I learned that
<persName>Mr. Bloxam</persName>, who had slept off the remains of his beer on the
previous night at <persName>Corcoran</persName>’s, had left for his work at
<placeName>Poplar</placeName> at five o’clock that morning. He could not tell me where
the place of work was situated, but he had a vague idea that it was some kind of a
“<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">new-fangled
ware’us</ref></hi></said>”; and with this slender clue I had to start for<placeName>
Poplar</placeName>. It was twelve o’clock before I got any satisfactory hint of such a
building, and this I got at a coffee-shop, where some workmen were having their dinner.
One of these suggested that there was being erected at <placeName>Cross Angel
Street</placeName> a new “<said><hi rend="italic">cold storage</hi></said>” building;
and as this suited the condition of a “<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial"
>new-fangled ware’us,</ref></hi></said>” I at once drove to it. An interview with a
surly gatekeeper and a surlier foreman, both of whom were appeased with the coin of the
realm, put me on the track of <persName>Bloxam</persName>; he was sent for on my
suggesting that I was willing to pay his day’s wages to his foreman for the privilege of
asking him a few questions on a private matter. He was a smart enough fellow, though rough
of speech and bearing. When I had promised to pay for his information and given him an
earnest, he told me that he had made two journeys between <placeName><ref target="#Carfax"
>Carfax</ref></placeName> and a house in <placeName>Piccadilly</placeName>, and had
taken from this house to the latter nine great boxes—“<hi rend="italic"><said><ref
target="#colloquial"><ref target="#classism">main heavy
ones</ref></ref></said></hi>”—with a horse and cart hired by him for this purpose. I asked
him if he could tell me the number of the house in <placeName>Piccadilly</placeName>, to
which he replied:—</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">Well, guv’nor, I forgits the number,
but it was only a few doors from a big white church or somethink of the kind, not
long built. It was a dusty old ’ouse, too, though nothin’ to the dustiness of the
’ouse we tooked the bloomin’ boxes from.</ref></hi></said>”</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic">How did you get into the houses if they were both
empty?</hi></said>”</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">There was the old party what engaged
me a-waitin’ in the ’ouse at <placeName>Purfleet</placeName>. He ’elped me to lift
the boxes and put them in the dray. Curse me, but he was the strongest chap I ever
struck, an’ him a old feller, with a white moustache, one that thin you would think
he couldn’t throw a shadder.</ref></hi></said>”</p>
<p><ref target="#reflections">How this phrase thrilled through me!</ref></p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">Why, ’e took up ’is end o’ the boxes
like they was pounds of tea, and me a-puffin’ an’ a-blowin’ afore I could up-end
mine anyhow—an’ I’m no chicken, neither.</ref></hi>”</said></p>
<p><said><hi rend="italic">“How did you get into the house in
<placeName>Piccadilly</placeName>?</hi></said>” I asked.</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">He was there too. He must ’a’ started
off and got there afore me, for when I rung of the bell he kem an’ opened the door
’isself an’ ’elped me to carry the boxes into the ’all.”</ref></hi></said></p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic">The whole nine?</hi></said>” I asked.</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">Yus; there was five in the first load
an’ four in the second. It was main dry work, an’ I don’t so well remember ’ow I got
’ome.</ref></hi></said>” I interrupted him:—</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic">Were the boxes left in the hall?</hi></said>”</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">Yus; it was a big ’all, an’ there was
nothin’ else in it.</ref></hi></said>” I made one more attempt to further
matters:—</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic">You didn’t have any key?</hi></said>”</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">Never used no key nor nothink. The old
gent, he opened the door ’isself an’ shut it again when I druv off. I don’t remember
the last time—but that was the beer.</ref></hi></said>”</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic">And you can’t remember the number of the house?</hi></said>”</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial">No, sir. But ye needn’t have no
difficulty about that. It’s a ’igh ’un with a stone front with a bow on it, an’ ’igh
steps up to the door. I know them steps, ’avin’ ’ad to carry the boxes up with three
loafers what come round to earn a copper. The old gent give them shillin’s, an’ they
seein’ they got so much, they wanted more; but ’e took one of them by the shoulder
and was like to throw ’im down the steps, till the lot of them went away
cussin’.</ref></hi></said>” I thought that with this description I could find the
house, so, having paid my friend for his information, I started off for
<placeName>Piccadilly</placeName>. I had gained a new painful experience; the
<persName><ref target="#Dracula">Count</ref></persName> could, it was evident, handle
the earth-boxes himself. If so, time was precious; for, now that he had achieved a certain
amount of distribution, he could, by choosing his own time, complete the task unobserved.
At <placeName>Piccadilly Circus</placeName> I discharged my cab, and walked westward;
beyond the Junior Constitutional I came across the house described, and was satisfied that
this was the next of the lairs arranged by <persName>Dracula</persName>. The house looked
as though it had been long untenanted. The windows were encrusted with dust, and the
shutters were up. All the framework was black with time, and from the iron the paint had
mostly scaled away. It was evident that up to lately there had been a large notice-board
in front of the balcony; it had, however, been roughly torn away, the uprights which had
supported it still remaining. Behind the rails of the balcony I saw there were some loose
boards, whose raw edges looked white. I would have given a good deal to have been able to
see the notice-board intact, as it would, perhaps, have given some clue to the ownership
of the house. I remembered my experience of the investigation and purchase of
<placeName><ref target="#Carfax">Carfax</ref></placeName>, and I could not but feel
that if I could find the former owner there might be some means discovered of gaining
access to the house.</p>
<p>There was at present nothing to be learned from the Piccadilly side, and nothing could be
done; so I went round to the back to see if anything could be gathered from this quarter.
The mews were active, the <placeName>Piccadilly</placeName> houses being mostly in
occupation. I asked one or two of the grooms and helpers whom I saw around if they could
tell me anything about the empty house. One of them said that he heard it had lately been
taken, but he couldn’t say from whom. He told me, however, that up to very lately there
had been a notice-board of “<writing>For Sale</writing>” up, and that perhaps Mitchell,
Sons, & Candy, the house agents, could tell me something, as he thought he remembered
seeing the name of that firm on the board. I did not wish to seem too eager, or to let my
informant know or guess too much, so, thanking him in the usual manner, I strolled away.
It was now growing dusk, and the autumn night was closing in, so I did not lose any time.
Having learned the address of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy from a directory at the
<placeName>Berkeley</placeName>, I was soon at their office in <placeName>Sackville
Street</placeName>.</p>
<p>The gentleman who saw me was <ref target="#reflection"><ref target="#classism"
>particularly suave in manner, but uncommunicative in equal proportion.</ref></ref>
Having once told me that the <placeName>Piccadilly</placeName> house—which throughout our
interview he called a “<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#colloquial"><ref
target="#relfection">mansion,</ref></ref></hi></said>”—was sold, he considered my
business as concluded. When I asked who had purchased it, he opened his eyes a thought
wider, and paused a few seconds before replying:—</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic"><ref target="#disparity">It is sold, sir.</ref></hi></said>”</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic">Pardon me,</hi></said>” <ref target="#reflection"><ref
target="#classism">I said, with equal politeness</ref></ref>, “<hi rend="italic"
><said><ref target="#classism">but I have a special reason for wishing to know who
purchased it.</ref></said></hi>”</p>
<p>Again he paused longer, and raised his eyebrows still more. “<said><hi rend="italic">It
is sold, sir,</hi></said>” was again his <ref target="#reflection"><ref
target="#classism">laconic</ref></ref> reply.</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>Surely,</said></hi>” I said, “<hi rend="italic"><said>you do not
mind letting me know so much.</said></hi>”</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>But I do mind,</said></hi>” he answered. “<hi rend="italic"
><said>The affairs of their clients are absolutely safe in the hands of Mitchell,
Sons, & Candy.</said></hi>” This was manifestly a prig of the first water, and
there was <ref target="#classism">no use arguing with him</ref>. I thought I had best meet
him on his own ground, so I said:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said><ref target="#classism">Your clients, sir, are happy in having
so resolute a guardian of their confidence</ref>. <ref target="#classism">I am
myself a professional man.</ref></said></hi>” Here I handed him my card. “<hi
rend="italic"><writing>In this instance I am not prompted by curiosity; I act on the
part of <persName><ref target="#Arthur">Lord Godalming</ref></persName>, who wishes to
know something of the property which was, he understood, lately for
sale.</writing></hi>” These words put a <ref target="#reflection">different complexion
on affairs</ref>. He said:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>I would like to oblige you if I could, <persName>Mr. <ref
target="#Jonathan">Harker</ref></persName>, and especially would I like to oblige
his lordship. We once carried out a small matter of renting some chambers for him when
he was the Honourable <persName><ref target="#Arthur">Arthur
Holmwood</ref></persName>. If you will let me have his lordship’s address I will
consult the House on the subject, and will, in any case, communicate with his lordship
by to-night’s post. It will be a pleasure if we can so far deviate from our rules as
to give the required information to his lordship.</said></hi>”</p>
<p>I<ref target="#reflection"> wanted to secure a friend, and not to make an enemy</ref>, so
I thanked him, gave the address at <persName><ref target="#Dr.Seward"
>Dr.Seward</ref></persName>’s and came away. It was now dark, and I was tired and
hungry. I got a cup of tea at the Aërated Bread Company and came down to
<placeName>Purfleet</placeName> by the next train.</p>
<p>I found all the others at home. <persName><ref target="#MinaMurray">Mina</ref></persName>
was looking tired and pale, but she made a gallant effort to be bright and cheerful, it
wrung my heart to think that I had had to keep anything from her and so caused her
inquietude. Thank God, this will be the last night of her looking on at our conferences,
and feeling the sting of our not showing our confidence. It took all my courage to hold to
the wise resolution of keeping her out of our grim task. She seems somehow more
reconciled; or else the very subject seems to have become repugnant to her, for when any
accidental allusion is made she actually shudders. I am glad we made our resolution in
time, as with such a feeling as this, our growing knowledge would be torture to her.</p>
<p>I could not tell the others of the day’s discovery till we were alone; so after
dinner—followed by a little music to save appearances even amongst ourselves—I took
<persName><ref target="#MinaMurray">Mina</ref></persName>to her room and left her to
go to bed. The dear girl was more affectionate with me than ever, and clung to me as
though she would detain me; but there was much to be talked of and I came away. Thank God,
the ceasing of telling things has made no difference between us.</p>
<p>When I came down again I found the others all gathered round the fire in the study. In
the train I had written my diary so far, and simply read it off to them as the best means
of letting them get abreast of my own information; when I had finished <persName>Van
Helsing</persName> said:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>T<said>his has been a great day’s work, friend
<persName>Jonathan</persName>. Doubtless we are on the track of the missing boxes.
If we find them all in that house, then our work is near the end. But if there be
some missing, we must search until we find them. Then shall we make our final coup,
and hunt the wretch to his real death.</said></said></hi>” We all sat silent awhile
and all at once <persName>Mr. Morris</persName> spoke:—</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic">Say! how are we going to get into that house?</hi></said>”</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>We got into the other,</said></hi>” answered <persName><ref
target="#Arthur">Lord Godalming</ref></persName> quickly.</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>But, <persName>Art</persName>, this is different. We broke house
at <placeName><ref target="#Carfax">Carfax</ref></placeName>, but we had night and a
walled park to protect us. It will be a mighty different thing to commit burglary in
<placeName>Piccadilly</placeName>, either by day or night. I confess I don’t see how
we are going to get in unless that agency duck can find us a key of some sort; perhaps
we shall know when you get his letter in the morning.</said></hi>” <persName><ref
target="#Arthur">Lord Godalming</ref></persName>’s brows contracted, and he stood up
and walked about the room. By-and-by he stopped and said, turning from one to another of
us:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said><persName><ref target="#Quincey">Quincey</ref></persName>’s head
is level. This burglary business is getting serious; we got off once all right; but we
have now a rare job on hand—unless we can find the <persName><ref target="#Dracula"
>Count</ref></persName>’s key basket.</said></hi>”</p>
<p>As nothing could well be done before morning, and as it would be at least advisable to
wait till <persName><ref target="#Arthur">Lord Godalming</ref></persName> should hear from
<persName>Mitchell</persName>’s, we decided not to take any active step before breakfast
time. For a good while we sat and smoked, discussing the matter in its various lights and
bearings; I took the opportunity of bringing this diary right up to the moment. I am very
sleepy and shall go to bed....</p>
<p>Just a line. <persName><ref target="#MinaMurray">Mina</ref></persName> sleeps soundly and
her breathing is regular. Her forehead is puckered up into little wrinkles, as though she
thinks even in her sleep. She is still too pale, but does not look so haggard as she did
this morning. Tomorrow will, I hope, mend all this; she will be herself at home in
<placeName>Exeter</placeName>. Oh, but I am sleepy!</p>
</div>
<lb/>
<!--**Main Annotations End here- refs relating to characters/places below; though not as thorough as above** -->
<lb/>
<div type="header">
<head> Dr.Seward's Journal</head>
</div>
<div type="journal">
<dateline>1 October</dateline>
<p>I am puzzled afresh about <persName>Renfield</persName>. His moods change so rapidly that
I find it difficult to keep touch of them, and as they always mean something more than his
own well-being, they form a more than interesting study. This morning, when I went to see
him after his repulse of <persName><ref target="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</ref></persName>,
his manner was that of a man commanding destiny. He was, in fact, commanding
destiny—subjectively. He did not really care for any of the things of mere earth; he was
in the clouds and looked down on all the weaknesses and wants of us poor mortals. I
thought I would improve the occasion and learn something, so I asked him:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>What about the flies these times?</said></hi>” He smiled on me
in quite a superior sort of way—such a smile as would have become the face of Malvolio—as
he answered me:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>The fly, my dear sir, has one striking feature; its wings are
typical of the aërial powers of the psychic faculties. The ancients did well when they
typified the soul as a butterfly!</said></hi>”</p>
<p>I thought I would push his analogy to its utmost logically, so I said quickly:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>Oh, it is a soul you are after now, is it?</said></hi>” His
madness foiled his reason, and a puzzled look spread over his face as, shaking his head
with a decision which I had but seldom seen in him, he said:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>Oh, no, oh no! I want no souls. Life is all I want.</said></hi>”
Here he brightened up; “<hi rend="italic"><said>I am pretty indifferent about it at
present. Life is all right; I have all I want. You must get a new patient, doctor, if
you wish to study zoöphagy!</said></hi>”</p>
<p>This puzzled me a little, so I drew him on:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>Then you command life; you are a god, I suppose?</said></hi>” He
smiled with an ineffably benign superiority.</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>Oh no! Far be it from me to arrogate to myself the attributes of
the Deity. I am not even concerned in His especially spiritual doings. If I may state
my intellectual position I am, so far as concerns things purely terrestrial, somewhat
in the position which Enoch occupied spiritually!</said></hi>” This was a poser to me.
I could not at the moment recall Enoch’s appositeness; so I had to ask a simple question,
though I felt that by so doing I was lowering myself in the eyes of the lunatic:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>And why with Enoch?</said></hi>”</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>Because he walked with God.</said></hi>” I could not see the
analogy, but did not like to admit it; so I harked back to what he had denied:—</p>
<p>“<said><hi rend="italic">So you don’t care about life and you don’t want souls. Why
not?</hi></said>” I put my question quickly and somewhat sternly, on purpose to
disconcert him. The effort succeeded; for an instant he unconsciously relapsed into his
old servile manner, bent low before me, and actually fawned upon me as he replied:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>I don’t want any souls, indeed, indeed! I don’t. I couldn’t use
them if I had them; they would be no manner of use to me. I couldn’t eat them or——” He
suddenly stopped and the old cunning look spread over his face, like a wind-sweep on
the surface of the water. “And doctor, as to life, what is it after all? When you’ve
got all you require, and you know that you will never want, that is all. I have
friends—good friends—like you, <persName><ref target="#Dr.Seward"
>Dr.Seward</ref></persName>”; this was said with a leer of inexpressible cunning. “I
know that I shall never lack the means of life!</said></hi>”</p>
<p>I think that through the cloudiness of his insanity he saw some antagonism in me, for he
at once fell back on the last refuge of such as he—a dogged silence. After a short time I
saw that for the present it was useless to speak to him. He was sulky, and so I came
away.</p>
<p>Later in the day he sent for me. Ordinarily I would not have come without special reason,
but just at present I am so interested in him that I would gladly make an effort. Besides,
I am glad to have anything to help to pass the time. <persName><ref target="#Jonathan"
>Harker</ref></persName> is out, following up clues; and so are <persName><ref
target="#Arthur">Lord Godalming</ref></persName> and <persName><ref target="#Quincey"
>Quincey</ref></persName>. <persName><ref target="#VanHelsing">Van
Helsing</ref></persName> sits in my study poring over the record prepared by the
<persName>Harkers</persName>; he seems to think that by accurate knowledge of all
details he will light upon some clue. He does not wish to be disturbed in the work,
without cause. I would have taken him with me to see the patient, only I thought that
after his last repulse he might not care to go again. There was also another reason:
<persName>Renfield</persName> might not speak so freely before a third person as when he
and I were alone.</p>
<p>I found him sitting out in the middle of the floor on his stool, a pose which is
generally indicative of some mental energy on his part. When I came in, he said at once,
as though the question had been waiting on his lips:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>What about souls?”</said></hi> It was evident then that my
surmise had been correct. Unconscious cerebration was doing its work, even with the
lunatic. I determined to have the matter out. “<hi rend="italic"><said>What about them
yourself?</said></hi>” I asked. He did not reply for a moment but looked all round
him, and up and down, as though he expected to find some inspiration for an answer.</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>I don’t want any souls!</said></hi>” he said in a feeble,
apologetic way. The matter seemed preying on his mind, and so I determined to use it—to
“<hi rend="italic"><said>be cruel only to be kind.</said></hi>” So I said:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>You like life, and you want life?</said></hi>”</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>Oh yes! but that is all right; you needn’t worry about
that!</said></hi>”</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>But,</said></hi>” I asked, “<hi rend="italic"><said>how are we
to get the life without getting the soul also?</said></hi>” This seemed to puzzle him,
so I followed it up:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>A nice time you’ll have some time when you’re flying out there,
with the souls of thousands of flies and spiders and birds and cats buzzing and
twittering and miauing all round you. You’ve got their lives, you know, and you must
put up with their souls!</said></hi>” Something seemed to affect his imagination, for
he put his fingers to his ears and shut his eyes, screwing them up tightly just as a small
boy does when his face is being soaped. There was something pathetic in it that touched
me; it also gave me a lesson, for it seemed that before me was a child—only a child,
though the features were worn, and the stubble on the jaws was white. It was evident that
he was undergoing some process of mental disturbance, and, knowing how his past moods had
interpreted things seemingly foreign to himself, I thought I would enter into his mind as
well as I could and go with him. The first step was to restore confidence, so I asked him,
speaking pretty loud so that he would hear me through his closed ears:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>Would you like some sugar to get your flies round
again?</said></hi>” He seemed to wake up all at once, and shook his head. With a laugh
he replied:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>Not much! flies are poor things, after all!</said></hi>” After a
pause he added, “<hi rend="italic"><said>But I don’t want their souls buzzing round me,
all the same.</said></hi>”</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>Or spiders?</said></hi>” I went on.</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>Blow spiders! What’s the use of spiders? There isn’t anything in
them to eat or</said></hi>”—he stopped suddenly, as though reminded of a forbidden
topic.</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>So, so!</said></hi>” I thought to myself, “<hi rend="italic"
><said>this is the second time he has suddenly stopped at the word ‘drink’; what does
it mean?</said></hi>” <persName>Renfield</persName> seemed himself aware of having
made a lapse, for he hurried on, as though to distract my attention from it:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>I don’t take any stock at all in such matters. ‘Rats and mice
and such small deer,’ as Shakespeare has it, ‘chicken-feed of the larder’ they might
be called. I’m past all that sort of nonsense. You might as well ask a man to eat
molecules with a pair of chop-sticks, as to try to interest me about the lesser
carnivora, when I know of what is before me.</said></hi>”</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>I see,</said></hi>” I said. “<hi rend="italic"><said>You want
big things that you can make your teeth meet in? How would you like to breakfast on
elephant?</said></hi>”</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>What ridiculous nonsense you are talking!</said></hi>” He was
getting too wide awake, so I thought I would press him hard. “<hi rend="italic"><said>I
wonder,</said></hi>” I said reflectively, “<hi rend="italic"><said>what an elephant’s
soul is like!</said></hi>”</p>
<p>The effect I desired was obtained, for he at once fell from his high-horse and became a
child again.</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>I don’t want an elephant’s soul, or any soul at
all!</said></hi>” he said. For a few moments he sat despondently. Suddenly he jumped to
his feet, with his eyes blazing and all the signs of intense cerebral excitement. “<hi
rend="italic"><said>To hell with you and your souls!</said></hi>” he shouted. “<hi
rend="italic"><said>Why do you plague me about souls? Haven’t I got enough to worry, and
pain, and distract me already, without thinking of souls!</said></hi>” He looked so
hostile that I thought he was in for another homicidal fit, so I blew my whistle. The
instant, however, that I did so he became calm, and said apologetically:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said>Forgive me, Doctor; I forgot myself. You do not need any help. I
am so worried in my mind that I am apt to be irritable. If you only knew the problem I
have to face, and that I am working out, you would pity, and tolerate, and pardon me.
Pray do not put me in a strait-waistcoat. I want to think and I cannot think freely
when my body is confined. I am sure you will understand!</said></hi>” He had evidently
self-control; so when the attendants came I told them not to mind, and they withdrew.
<persName>Renfield</persName> watched them go; when the door was closed he said, with
considerable dignity and sweetness:—</p>
<p>“<hi rend="italic"><said><persName><ref target="#Dr.Seward">Dr.Seward</ref></persName>,
you have been very considerate towards me. Believe me that I am very, very grateful to
you!</said></hi>” I thought it well to leave him in this mood, and so I came away.
There is certainly something to ponder over in this man’s state. Several points seem to
make what the American interviewer calls “<hi rend="italic"><said>a story,</said></hi>” if
one could only get them in proper order. Here they are:—</p>
<p>Will not mention “<hi rend="italic"><said>drinking.</said></hi>”</p>
<p>Fears the thought of being burdened with the “<hi rend="italic"><said>soul</said></hi>”
of anything.</p>
<p>Has no dread of wanting “<hi rend="italic"><said>life</said></hi>” in the future.</p>
<p>Despises the meaner forms of life altogether, though he dreads being haunted by their
souls.</p>
<p>Logically all these things point one way! he has assurance of some kind that he will
acquire some higher life. He dreads the consequence—the burden of a soul. Then it is a
human life he looks to!</p>
<p>And the assurance—?</p>
<p>Merciful God! the <persName><ref target="#Dracula">Count</ref></persName> has been to
him, and there is some new scheme of terror afoot!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
<hi rend="italic">Later.</hi>—</p>
<p>I went after my round to <persName><ref target="#VanHelsing">Van Helsing</ref></persName>
and told him my suspicion. He grew very grave; and, after thinking the matter over for a
while asked me to take him to <persName>Renfield</persName>. I did so. As we came to the
door we heard the lunatic within singing gaily, as he used to do in the time which now
seems so long ago. When we entered we saw with amazement that he had spread out his sugar
as of old; the flies, lethargic with the autumn, were beginning to buzz into the room. We
tried to make him talk of the subject of our previous conversation, but he would not
attend. He went on with his singing, just as though we had not been present. He had got a
scrap of paper and was folding it into a note-book. We had to come away as ignorant as we
went in.</p>
<p>His is a curious case indeed; we must watch him tonight.</p>
</div>
<div type="header">
<head>Letter, Mitchell, Sons and Candy to <ref target="#Arthur">Lord Godalming</ref>.</head>
</div>
<div type="letter">
<dateline>
<hi rend="italic">“1 October.</hi></dateline>
<p>
<writing><hi rend="ul">My Lord,</hi></writing></p>
<writing>
<hi rend="ul">“We are at all times only too happy to meet your wishes. We beg, with regard
to the desire of your Lordship, expressed by <persName>Mr.<ref target="#Jonathan"
>Harker</ref></persName> on your behalf, to supply the following information
concerning the sale and purchase of No. 347, <placeName>Piccadilly</placeName>. The
original vendors are the executors of the late Mr. <persName>Archibald
Winter-Suffield</persName>. The purchaser is a foreign nobleman, <persName><ref
target="#Dracula">Count</ref> de Ville</persName>, who effected the purchase himself
paying the purchase money in notes ‘over the counter,’ if your <ref target="#disparity"
>Lordship will pardon us using so vulgar an expression</ref>. Beyond this we know
nothing whatever of him.</hi></writing>
<p><hi rend="ul">“We are, my Lord,</hi></p>
<p><hi rend="ul">“Your Lordship’s humble servants,</hi></p>
<p><writing><hi rend="ul">“Mitchell, Sons & Candy.”</hi></writing>"</p>
</div>
<lb/>
<lb/>
<div type="letter">
<div type="header">
<head>
<hi rend="bold">Dr. Seward’s Diary</hi></head>
</div>
<div type="diary">
<p>
<hi rend="italic">2 October.</hi>—</p>
<p>I placed a man in the corridor last night, and told him to make an accurate note of any
sound he might hear from <persName>Renfield</persName>’s room, and gave him instructions
that if there should be anything strange he was to call me. After dinner, when we had
all gathered round the fire in the study—Mrs. <persName><ref target="#MinaMurray"
>Mina</ref></persName> having gone to bed—we discussed the attempts and discoveries
of the day. <ref target="#Jonathan">Harker</ref> was the only one who had any result,
and we are in great hopes that his clue may be an important one.</p>
<p>Before going to bed I went round to the patient’s room and looked in through the
observation trap. He was sleeping soundly, and his heart rose and fell with regular
respiration.</p>
<p>This morning the man on duty reported to me that a little after midnight he was
restless and kept saying his prayers somewhat loudly. I asked him if that was all; he
replied that it was all he heard. There was something about his manner so suspicious
that I asked him point blank if he had been asleep. He denied sleep, but admitted to
having “dozed” for a while. It is too bad that men cannot be trusted unless they are
watched.</p>
<p>Today <persName><ref target="#Jonathan">Harker</ref></persName> is out following up his
clue, and <persName><ref target="#Arthur">Art</ref></persName> and <persName><ref
target="#Quincey">Quincey</ref></persName> are looking after horses. <persName><ref
target="#Arthur">Godalming</ref></persName> thinks that it will be well to have
horses always in readiness, for when we get the information which we seek there will be
no time to lose. We must sterilise all the imported earth between sunrise and sunset; we
shall thus catch the <persName><ref target="#Dracula">Count</ref></persName> at his
weakest, and without a refuge to fly to. <persName><ref target="#VanHelsing">Van
Helsing</ref></persName> is off to the <placeName>British Museum</placeName> looking
up some authorities on ancient medicine. The old physicians took account of things which
their followers do not accept, and the <persName>Professor</persName> is searching for
witch and demon cures which may be useful to us later.</p>
<p>I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in
strait-waistcoats.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
<hi rend="italic">Later.</hi>—</p>
<p>We have met again. We seem at last to be on the track, and our work of to-morrow may be
the beginning of the end. I wonder if <persName>Renfield</persName>’s quiet has anything
to do with this. His moods have so followed the doings of the <persName><ref
target="#Dracula">Count</ref></persName>, that the coming destruction of the monster
may be carried to him in some subtle way. If we could only get some hint as to what
passed in his mind, between the time of my argument with him to-day and his resumption
of fly-catching, it might afford us a valuable clue. He is now seemingly quiet for a
spell.... Is he?—— That wild yell seemed to come from his room....</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The attendant came bursting into my room and told me that <persName>Renfield</persName>
had somehow met with some accident. He had heard him yell; and when he went to him found
him lying on his face on the floor, all covered with blood. I must go at once....</p>
</div>
<div type="CHAPTER_END">
<head><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic"> END OF CHAPTER </hi></hi></head>
</div>
</div>
</body>
<back>
<head><hi rend="bold">Annotations, Explanations, and Related character/location
highlights:</hi></head>
<div type="Spacing">
<head>Annotations and Explanations</head>
</div>
<div type="Annotations_Rationale">
<p><hi rend="bold">Dracula and the notion of othering</hi><hi rend="bold">: Explorations of
Societal Attitudes to Class</hi></p>
<p xml:id="colloquial"><emph>Colloquial Language</emph> -use of colloquial language (both in
speech and writing (as seen with the letter)- at times signifying class disparity (see
class disparity); at times almost caricature-like portrayal.</p>
<p xml:id="classism"><emph>Classism</emph> - Instances wherein Jonathan Harker reocounts events with a sort of patronizing; self important sense of self at times.</p>
<p xml:id="disparity"><emph>Class Disparity</emph> - Highlighted instances of Harker's views
of people/places/actions pertaining to class(es) different from his. Also includes
instances of exchanges between people of different 'classes'</p>
<p xml:id="reflections"><emph>Reflections</emph> - Jonathan Harker's reflections and
realizations- with emphasis on instances wherein it leads to Harker recounting moments he
describes with a sort of patronizing manner especially matters regarding people of a
different class .</p>
</div>
<div type="Personographies_(Sourced)">
<head>Personographies</head>
<div>
<listPerson>
<head><hi rend="bold">Jonathan Harker</hi></head>
<person xml:id="Jonathan" role="Solicitor">
<persName><hi rend="italic">Jonathan Harker</hi></persName>
<sex><hi rend="italic">Male</hi></sex>
<nationality><hi rend="italic">English</hi></nationality>
<socecStatus><hi rend="italic">Clerk</hi></socecStatus>
<residence><hi rend="italic">Europe</hi></residence>
<trait type="personality">
<desc><hi rend="italic"> Determined </hi></desc>
</trait>
</person>
</listPerson>
</div>
<div>
<listPerson>
<head><hi rend="bold">Arthur Holmwood, Lord Godalming</hi></head>
<person xml:id="Arthur" role="Lord Godalming">
<persName><hi rend="italic">Arthur Holmwood</hi></persName>
<sex><hi rend="italic">Male</hi></sex>
<nationality><hi rend="italic">English</hi></nationality>
<socecStatus><hi rend="italic">Noble</hi></socecStatus>
<residence><hi rend="italic">Europe</hi></residence>
<langKnowledge>
<langKnown level="fluent" tag="en"><hi rend="italic">English</hi></langKnown>
</langKnowledge>
</person>
</listPerson>
</div>
<div>
<listPerson>
<head><hi rend="bold">Abraham Van Helsing</hi></head>
<person xml:id="VanHelsing">
<persName><hi rend="italic">Abraham Van Helsing</hi></persName>
<sex><hi rend="italic">Male</hi></sex>
<nationality><hi rend="italic">Dutch</hi></nationality>
<faith><hi rend="italic">Catholic</hi></faith>
<age><hi rend="italic">Old</hi></age>
<education><hi rend="italic">Doctor, professor, metaphysician, scientist,
philosopher</hi></education>
<occupation><hi rend="italic">Doctor</hi></occupation>
<langKnowledge>
<langKnown tag="nl"><hi rend="italic">Dutch</hi></langKnown>
</langKnowledge>
<trait type="physical">
<label><hi rend="italic">Body Structure</hi></label>
<desc><hi rend="italic">Medium build, strong</hi></desc>
</trait>
<trait type="physical">
<label><hi rend="italic">Head</hi></label>
<desc><hi rend="italic">Broad</hi></desc>
</trait>
<trait type="physical">
<label><hi rend="italic">Skin</hi></label>
<desc><hi rend="italic">Clean shaven</hi></desc>
</trait>
<trait type="physical">
<label><hi rend="italic">Face</hi></label>
<desc><hi rend="italic">Square</hi></desc>
</trait>
<trait type="physical">
<label><hi rend="italic">Forehead</hi></label>
<desc><hi rend="italic">Broad</hi></desc>
</trait>
<trait type="physical">
<label><hi rend="italic">Eyes</hi></label>
<desc><hi rend="italic">Dark blue, wide spread, emotive</hi></desc>
</trait>
<trait type="physical">
<label><hi rend="italic">Nose</hi></label>
<desc><hi rend="italic">Straight with "quick, sensitive nostrils"</hi></desc>
</trait>
<trait type="physical">
<label><hi rend="italic">Mouth</hi></label>
<desc><hi rend="italic">Large</hi></desc>
</trait>
<trait type="physical">
<label><hi rend="italic">Eyebrows</hi></label>
<desc><hi rend="italic">Bushy</hi></desc>
</trait>
<trait type="physical">
<label><hi rend="italic">Hair</hi></label>
<desc><hi rend="italic">Reddish</hi></desc>
</trait>
<trait type="personality">
<label><hi rend="italic">Personality</hi></label>
<desc><hi rend="italic">Iron nerve, open mind, cool temper, resolute,
kind</hi></desc>
</trait>
</person>
</listPerson>
</div>
<div>
<listPerson>
<head><hi rend="bold">Quincey Morris</hi></head>
<person xml:id="Quincey">
<persName>Quincey Morris </persName>
<sex><hi rend="italic">Male</hi></sex>
<nationality><hi rend="italic">American</hi></nationality>
<socecStatus><hi rend="italic">Upper Class</hi></socecStatus>
<residence><hi rend="italic">Texas, United States of America</hi></residence>
</person>
</listPerson>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<listPerson>
<head><hi rend="bold">Count Dracula a.k.a. Count De Ville</hi></head>
<person xml:id="Dracula">
<persName>
<hi rend="italic">Count Dracula</hi></persName>
<sex><hi rend="italic">Male</hi></sex>
<residence><hi rend="italic"> </hi><placeName><hi rend="italic"> Castle
Dracula</hi></placeName><hi rend="italic"> in </hi><geogName><hi rend="italic"
>Transylvania</hi></geogName><hi rend="italic"> </hi><placeName><hi rend="italic">
Carfax Estate at Purfleet in </hi><country><hi rend="italic"
>England</hi></country><hi rend="italic"> </hi></placeName><hi rend="italic"
> </hi></residence>
<trait>
<desc><hi rend="italic"> Aquiline face with thin nose and lofty domed forehead,
massive eyebrows and a heavy mustache, very sharp white teeth that protrude over
the lips.</hi></desc>
</trait>
</person>
</listPerson>
<listPerson>
<head><hi rend="bold">Mina Murray Harker</hi></head>
<person xml:id="MinaMurray">
<persName><hi rend="italic">Mina Murray Harker</hi></persName>
<affiliation><hi rend="italic"> a school teacher, married to Jonathan Harker
</hi></affiliation>
<residence><hi rend="italic"> </hi><placeName><hi rend="italic"> </hi><region><hi
rend="italic"> Whitby </hi></region><hi rend="italic"> </hi></placeName><hi
rend="italic"> </hi><country><hi rend="italic"> England</hi></country><hi
rend="italic"> </hi></residence>
<sex><hi rend="italic">Female</hi></sex>
<state type="nationality">
<label><hi rend="italic"> Nationality </hi></label>
<desc><hi rend="italic"> British citizen </hi></desc>
</state>
</person>
</listPerson>
<div>
<listPerson>
<head><hi rend="bold">Dr. John Seward</hi></head>
<person xml:id="Dr.Seward">
<persName>
<hi rend="italic">Dr.John Seward </hi><addName type="nickname"><hi rend="italic"
>Jack</hi></addName><hi rend="italic"> </hi></persName>
<nationality key="UK"><hi rend="italic">British </hi><location>
<settlement xml:id="carfax"><hi rend="italic">Carfax</hi></settlement>
</location><hi rend="italic">British</hi><bloc type="union"><hi rend="italic"> The
European Union</hi></bloc><hi rend="italic"> </hi></nationality>
<residence notBefore="1879"><placeName ref="#carfax"><hi rend="italic"
>Carfax</hi></placeName><placeName ref="#London"><hi rend="italic"
>London</hi></placeName><hi rend="italic"> </hi><region xml:id="England"><hi
rend="italic">England</hi></region><hi rend="italic"> </hi></residence>
<sex value="M"><hi rend="italic">Male</hi></sex>
<education><hi rend="italic">Doctorate in Medicine, practices cutting-edge psychology.
Provides the reader with an examination of Vampirism through his study of
</hi><persName ref="#Renfield"><hi rend="italic"> Renfield</hi></persName><hi
rend="italic">.</hi></education>
<occupation><hi rend="italic"> </hi><roleName type="honorific"><hi rend="italic"
>Doctor of Medicine</hi></roleName><hi rend="italic"> </hi></occupation>
<trait type="physical">
<desc><hi rend="italic">Strong Jaw</hi></desc>
</trait>
</person>
</listPerson>
</div>
</div>
<div type="Placeographies_(Sourced)">
<head>Personographies</head>
<div>
<listPlace>
<place xml:id="Carfax">
<placeName><hi rend="bold">Carfax</hi></placeName>
<region type="junction"><hi rend="italic">St Aldate's, Cornmarket Street, Queen
Street, High Street</hi></region>
<region type="city"><hi rend="italic">Oxford</hi></region>
<region type="country"><hi rend="italic">England</hi></region>
<bloc type="union"><hi rend="italic">European Union</hi></bloc>
<location>
<geo>51.752 1.258</geo>
</location>
<population when="2017-01-01">
<desc><hi rend="italic">154,600 approximately</hi></desc>
</population>
<terrain>
<desc><hi rend="italic">45.59 Square Kilometers</hi></desc>
</terrain>
</place>
</listPlace>
</div>
</div>
<div type="Placeographies_(Sourced)">
<div>
<listPlace>
<place xml:id="London">
<placeName><hi rend="bold"> London</hi></placeName>
<region type="country"><hi rend="italic">England</hi></region>
<bloc type="kingdom"><hi rend="italic">United Kingdom or Britain</hi></bloc>
<bloc type="union"><hi rend="italic">European Union</hi></bloc>
<location>
<geo>46.0 23.35</geo>
</location>
<population when="1897-01-01">
<desc><hi rend="italic">6.5 million, approximately</hi></desc>
</population>
<terrain>
<desc><hi rend="italic">1,572 Square Kilometers</hi></desc>
</terrain>
</place>
</listPlace>
</div>
</div>
</back>
</text>
</TEI>