drowned in the Gulf of Finland in ’50. Do ye think that all these
men will have to make a rush to Whitby when the trumpet
sounds? I have me antherums aboot it! I tell ye that when they
got here they’d be jommlin’ an’ jostlin’ one another that way
that it ’ud be like a fight up on the ice in the old days, when we’d
be at one another from daylight to dark, an’ tryin’ to tie up our
cuts by the light of the aurora borealis.» This was evidently local
pleasantry, for the old man cackled over it, and his cronies joined
in with gusto.
«But,» I said, «surely you are not quite correct, for you start
on the assumption that all the poor people, or their spirits, will
Mina Murray’s Journal 63
have to take their tombstones with them on the Day of Judg-
ment. Do you think that will be really necessary?»
«Well, what else be they tombstones for? Answer me that,
miss!»
«To please their relatives, I suppose.»
«To please their relatives, you suppose!» This he said with
intense scorn. «How will it pleasure their relatives to know
that lies is wrote over them, and that everybody in the place
knows that they be lies? "He pointed to a stone at our feet which
had been laid down as a slab, on which the seat was rested, close
to the edge of the cliff. «Read the lies on that thruff-stean,» he
said. The letters were upside down to me from where I sat, but
Lucy was more opposite to them, so she leant over and read:
«Sacred to the memory of George Canon, who died, in the
hope of a glorious resurrection, on July, 29, 1873, falling from
the rocks at Kettleness. This tomb was erected by his sorrowing
mother to her dearly beloved son. «He was the only son of his
mother, and she was a widow.» Really, Mr. Swales, I don’t
see anything very funny in that!» She spoke her comment very
gravely and somewhat severely.
«Ye don’t see aught funny! Ha! ha! But that’s because ye
don’t gawm the sorrowin’ mother was a hell-cat that hated him
because he was acrewk’d a regular lamiter he was an’ he
hated her so that he committed suicide in order that she mightn’t
get an insurance she put on his life. He blew nigh the top of his
head off with an old musket that they had for scarin’ the crows
with. «Twarn’t for crows then, for it brought the clegs’ and the
dowps to him. That’s the way he fell off the rocks. And, as to
hopes of a glorious resurrection, I’ve often heard him say masel’
that he hoped he’d go to hell, for his mother was so pious that
she’d be sure to go to heaven, an’ he didn’t want to addle where
she was. Now isn’t that stean at any rate" he hammered it with
his stick as he spoke «a pack of lies? and won’t it make Gabriel
keckle when Geordie comes pantin’ up the grees with the tomb-
stean balanced on his hump, and asks it to be took as evidence!»
I did not know what to say, but Lucy turned the conversation
as she said, rising up:
«Oh, why did you tell us of this? It is my favourite seat, and
I cannot leave it; and now I find I must go on sitting over the
grave of a suicide.»
«That won’t harm ye, my pretty; an’ it may make poor Geor-
die gladsome to have so trim a lass sittin’ on his lap. That won’t
hurt ye. Why, I’ve sat here off an’ on for nigh twenty years past.
64 Dracula
an’ it hasn’t done me no harm. Don’t ye fash about them as lies
under ye, or that doesn’ lie there either! It’ll be time for ye to be
getting scart when ye see the tombsteans all run away with, and
the place as bare as a stubble-field. There’s the clock, an’ I must
gang. My service to ye, ladies!» And off he hobbled.
Lucy and I sat awhile, and it was all so beautiful before us that
we took hands as we sat; and she told me all over again about
Arthur and their coming marriage. That made me just a little
heart-sick, for I haven’t heard from Jonathan for a whole month.
The same day. I came up here alone, for I am very sad. There
was no letter for me. I hope there cannot be anything the matter
with Jonathan. The clock has just struck nine. I see the lights
scattered all over the town, sometimes in rows where the streets
are, and sometimes singly; they run right up the Esk and die
away in the curve of the valley. To my left the view is cut off
by a black line of roof of the old house next the abbey. The sheep
and lambs are bleating in the fields away behind me, and there
is a clatter of a donkey’s hoofs up the paved road below. The
band on the pier is playing a harsh waltz in good time, and
further along the quay there is a Salvation Army meeting in a
back street. Neither of the bands hears the other, but up here I
hear and see them both. I wonder where Jonathan is and if he is
thinking of me! I wish he were here.
Dr. Seward’s Diary.
5 June. The case of Renfield grows more interesting the more
I get to understand the man. He has certain qualities very largely
developed; selfishness, secrecy, and purpose. I wish I could get
at what is the object of the latter. He seems to have some settled
scheme of his own, but what it is I do not yet know. His redeem-
ing quality is a love of animals, though, indeed, he has such
curious turns in it that I sometimes imagine he is only abnorm-
ally cruel. His pets are of odd sorts. Just now his hobby is catch-
ing flies. He has at present such a quantity that I have had
myself to expostulate. To my astonishment, he did not break
out into a fury, as I expected, but took the matter in simple
seriousness. He thought for a moment, and then said: «May I
have three days? I shall clear them away.» Of course, I said that
would do. I must watch him.
18 June. He has turned his mind now to spiders, and has got
several very big fellows in a box. He keeps feeding them with his
Mina Murray’s Journal 65
flies, and the number of the latter is becoming sensibly dimin-
ished, although he has used half his food in attracting more flies
from outside to his room.
j July. His spiders are now becoming as great a nuisance as
his flies, and to-day I told him that he must get rid of them. He
looked very sad at this, so I said that he must clear out some of
them, at all events. He cheerfully acquiesced in this, and I gave
him the same time as before for reduction. He disgusted me much
while with him, for when a horrid blow-fly, bloated with some
carrion food, buzzed into the room, he caught it, held it exult-
antly for a few moments between his finger and thumb, and,
before I knew what he was going to do, put it in his mouth and
ate it. I scolded him for it, but he argued quietly that it was very
good and very wholesome; that it was life, strong life, and gave
fife to him. This gave me an idea, or the rudiment of one. I must
watch how he gets rid of his spiders. He has evidently some deep
problem in his mind, for he keeps a little note-book in which he
is always jotting down something. Whole pages of it are filled
with masses of figures, generally single numbers added up in
batches, and then the totals added in batches again, as though he
were «focussing» some account, as the auditors put it.
8 Jiily. There is a method in his madness, and the rudimen-
tary idea in my mind is growing. It will be a whole idea soon, and
then, oh, unconscious cerebration! you will have to give the
wall to your conscious brother. I kept away from my friend for
a few days, so that I might notice if there were any change.
Things remain as they were except that he has parted with
some of his pets and got a new one. He has managed to get a
sparrow, and has already partially tamed it. His means of taming
is simple, for already the spiders have diminished. Those that
do remain, however, are well fed, for he still brings in the flies
by tempting them with his food.
ig July. We are progressing. My friend has now a whole
colony of sparrows, and his flies and spiders are almost obliter-
ated. When I came in he ran to me and said he wanted to ask
me a great favour a very, very great favour; and as he spoke he