LETTER, MINA HARKER TO LUCY WESTENRA
Buda-Pesth, 24 August.
"My dearest Lucy,
"I know you will be anxious to hear all that has happened since we parted at the railway station at Whitby. "Well, my dear, I got to Hull all right, and caught the boat to Hamburg, and then the train on here. I feel that I can hardly recall anything of the journey, except that I knew I was coming to Jonathan, and that as I should have to do some nursing, I had better get all the sleep I could. I found my dear one, oh, so thin and pale and weak-looking. All the resolution has gone out of his dear eyes, and that quiet dignity which I told you was in his face has vanished. He is only a wreck of himself, and he does not remember anything that has happened to him for a long time past. At least, he wants me to believe so, and I shall never ask.
"He has had some terrible shock, and I fear it might tax his poor brain if he were to try to recall it. Sister Agatha, who is a good creature and a born nurse, tells me that he wanted her to tell me what they were, but she would only cross herself, and say she would never tell. That the ravings of the sick were the secrets of God, and that if a nurse through her vocation should hear them, she should respect her trust..
"She is a sweet, good soul, and the next day, when she saw I was troubled, she opened up the subject my poor dear raved about, added, `I can tell you this much, my dear. That it was not about anything which he has done wrong himself, and you, as his wife to be, have no cause to be concerned. He has not forgotten you or what he owes to you. His fear was of great and terrible things, which no mortal can treat of.'
"I do believe the dear soul thought I might be jealous lest my poor dear should have fallen in love with any other girl. The idea of my being jealous about Jonathan! And yet, my dear, let me whisper, I felt a thrill of joy through me when I knew that no other woman was a cause for trouble. I am now sitting by his bedside, where I can see his face while he sleeps. He is waking!
"When he woke he asked me for his coat, as he wanted to get something from the pocket. I asked Sister Agatha, and she brought all his things. I saw amongst them was his notebook, and was going to ask him to let me look at it, for I knew that I might find some clue to his trouble, but I suppose he must have seen my wish in my eyes, for he sent me over to the window, saying he wanted to be quite alone for a moment.
"Then he called me back, and he said to me very solemnly, `Wilhelmina', I knew then that he was in deadly earnest, for he has never called me by that name since he asked me to marry him, `You know, dear, my ideas of the trust between husband and wife. There should be no secret, no concealment. I have had a great shock, and when I try to think of what it is I feel my head spin round, and I do not know if it was real of the dreaming of a madman. You know I had brain fever, and that is to be mad. The secret is here, and I do not want to know it. I want to take up my life here, with our marriage.' For, my dear, we had decided to be married as soon as the formalities are complete. `Are you willing, Wilhelmina, to share my ignorance? Here is the book. Take it and keep it, read it if you will, but never let me know unless, indeed, some solemn duty should come upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake, sane or mad, recorded here.' He fell back exhausted, and I put the book under his pillow, and kissed him. Have asked Sister Agatha to beg the Superior to let our wedding be this afternoon, and am waiting her reply . . ."
"She has come and told me that the Chaplain of the English mission church has been sent for. We are to be married in an hour, or as soon after as Jonathan awakes."
"Lucy, the time has come and gone. I feel very solemn, but very, very happy. Jonathan woke a little after the hour, and all was ready, and he sat up in bed, propped up with pillows. He answered his `I will' firmly and strong. I could hardly speak. My heart was so full that even those words seemed to choke me.
"The dear sisters were so kind. Please, God, I shall never, never forget them, nor the grave and sweet responsibilities I have taken upon me. I must tell you of my wedding present. When the chaplain and the sisters had left me alone with my husband--oh, Lucy, it is the first time I have written the words `my husband'--left me alone with my husband, I took the book from under his pillow, and wrapped it up in white paper, and tied it with a little bit of pale blue ribbon which was round my neck, and sealed it over the knot with sealing wax, and for my seal I used my wedding ring. Then I kissed it and showed it to my husband, and told him that I would keep it so, and then it would be an outward and visible sign for us all our lives that we trusted each other, that I would never open it unless it were for his own dear sake or for the sake of some stern duty. Then he took my hand in his, and oh, Lucy, it was the first time he took his wife's hand, and said that it was the dearest thing in all the wide world, and that he would go through all the past again to win it, if need be. The poor dear meant to have said a part of the past, but he cannot think of time yet, and I shall not wonder if at first he mixes up not only the month, but the year.
"Well, my dear, could I say? I could only tell him that I was the happiest woman in all the wide world, and that I had nothing to give him except myself, my life, and my trust, and that with these went my love and duty for all the days of my life. And, my dear, when he kissed me, and drew me to him with his poor weak hands, it was like a solemn pledge between us.
"Lucy dear, do you know why I tell you all this? It is not only because it is all sweet to me, but because you have been, and are, very dear to me. It was my privilege to be your friend and guide when you came from the schoolroom to prepare for the world of life. I want you to see now, and with the eyes of a very happy wife, whither duty has led me, so that in your own married life you too may be all happy, as I am. My dear, please Almighty God, your life may be all it promises, a long day of sunshine, with no harsh wind, no forgetting duty, no distrust. I must not wish you no pain, for that can never be, but I do hope you will be always as happy as I am now. Goodbye, my dear. I shall post this at once, and perhaps, write you very soon again. I must stop, for Jonathan is waking. I must attend my husband!
"Your ever-loving
"Mina Harker."
"It was my privilege to be your friend and guide when you came from the schoolroom to prepare for the world of life."
It appears that Mina is somewhat older than Lucy, which explains Lucy's childish enthusiasm compared with Mina's matronly and dutiful behaviors. Anyone remember how old Lucy is supposed to be? Was it 19?
Posted by: Baby Jinx | August 25, 2005 at 01:03 AM
"I do believe the dear soul thought I might be jealous..." If Mina only knew! :)
Here's an interestring point. This paragraph was excised from the paperback edition published by Constable in 1901. Stoker was (presumably)asked to cut about 25,000 words (or 15%) from the original text for a cheaper edition. A few years ago, when researching for my first book _Reflections on Dracula_ I did a text-to-text comparison and recorded every omission. It is quite remarkable to note the excision of what for us today are key passages. This is just one of them.
Makes one wonder. Why did Stoker select certain passages? Obviously some were considered expendable. But others, at least to us today, seem to be key omissions. In such cases, is it possible that Stoker was aware of some of the sexual subtext? Another question: Should the 1901 text, given that it's the author's "final word" be recognized as the "legitimate" text?
I can expand on this phenomenon, if anyone is interested. At least I can point out other examples of excisions as we move along.
Posted by: Elizabeth | August 25, 2005 at 08:07 AM
Re Lucy's age.
Yes, she is 19 (mentioned in Chapter 5). Mina's age is not given. As far as I recall, the only other ages provided are those of Dr Seward (29) and Renfield (59). Hey - there's a numerical sequence: 19, 29, 59... Has anyone come up with a theory based on this? :) :)
Posted by: Elizabeth | August 25, 2005 at 08:34 AM
Re: Stoker's legitimate text
I think you can make any case for Stoker's legitimate text depending upon how you define "legitimate." If "legitimate" means his most edited version, then the 1901 version qualifies. If so, then I rather prefer the "illegitimate" version, as I like reading the asides and expendable information. It adds to the flavor and understanding of the story. The same thing happened to Stephen King when he first started out...with publishers cutting down his works (King can be very verbose). Once he became famous, out came all the "uncut" versions of his novels.
Posted by: Baby Jinx | August 25, 2005 at 02:39 PM
Re: age progression: 19, 29, 59...
19 + 10 = 29
29 + 30 = 59
59 + 50 = 109
Was anyone in the story 109 years old? :)
Posted by: Baby Jinx | August 25, 2005 at 02:43 PM
"I can expand on this phenomenon, if anyone is interested."
Yes, please. I'm interested.
Posted by: HP | August 25, 2005 at 05:24 PM
Re the 1901 edition. I certainly prefer the 1897 text. But it is intriguing to examine some of the passages that Stoker excised. For anyone who is interested, I have uploaded an article I've had published to my Dracula Research Centre site [www.blooferland.com/drc]. Just click on "Bram Stoker/Dracula: Miscellaneous Articles" and you'll find it. At the end of the article is an appendix which details the major deletions from 1897 to 1901. If we accept that Stoker deleted what he considered expendable, then some of these might surprise you.
Posted by: Elizabeth | August 25, 2005 at 05:24 PM
This is a remarkably touching passage, something which I did not appreciate at my first reading of _Dracula_ as a teen-ager. Some lines, as fusty as the language might appear to a modern reader, brougnt actual tears to my eyes, which surprised me.
The reason, of course, is that I know what happens later in the story, and it makes the romantic, hopeful sentiments which Mina shares with Lucy all the more poignant.
Posted by: Guinn Berger | August 25, 2005 at 08:18 PM
Huh? re. to Buda-Pesth
East to Hamburg by sea when Budapest (Budapesth) is southeast? By sea when by rail could be far faster? The longer route would likely be slower. (Cf. 19_augustjoy_jo.html#comment-10351542) Was border crossing England--France--German Reich--Austria-Hungary that much more difficult than England--German Reich--Austria-Hungary?
I dunno, maybe the routes were about the same in convenience, though the rail route not taken would likely have been better appointed as well. Apparently our heroine did not take the OE.
Posted by: Writing-desk Raven | October 18, 2005 at 03:58 PM
"he does not remember anything that has happened to him for a long time past. At least, he wants me to believe so, and I shall never ask.
[...] Sister Agatha, who is a good creature and a born nurse, tells me that he wanted her to tell me what they were, but she would only cross herself, and say she would never tell."
That is quite at odds with what is known about healing emotional trauma, at least long known by empirical medical lore. It is a measure of distance between Mina and Jonathan's world and ours today that just at the time they were married in Budapest, Dr. Freud had his first now-famouse paper published (1893), with the more fully developed study published two years before the novel. Unfortunately for our heroes, they were trapped by the rigid attitudes of an authoritarian dogma at the very time that Reason was literally so close at hand, seeing a way of escape. And at that time English was not the pre-eminent language of the sciences and arts. Freud's first major paper was not translated until 1909.
The paragraph in the novel further illustrates how characters in the story so unwittingly contribute to their own misfortune.
-W-d R
Posted by: Writing-desk Raven | October 18, 2005 at 03:59 PM
> so unwittingly contribute
and contribute so poignantly, as Ms. Berger illuminated another passage with her comment. Mina to Lucy illustrates how remarkably in tune and aware Mina can be with others. Ms. Berger, just imagine how readers would feel, back in the day, when they hadn't yet heard the stories or seen the movies.
"That the ravings of the sick were the secrets of God" is interestingly rather at odds with mental health, indeed of medicine and science. Is Stoker planting another seedling here? As Einstein and Hawking (among many) have famously pointed out, knowing the secrets of God is a way of saying just what science is all about seeking. What is the Grail of Dr. Seward's profession?
Posted by: Hypatia | October 18, 2005 at 08:07 PM
SPOILER ALERT:
That "authoritarian dogma" and its instruments (crucifixes, etc.) will be successfully deployed against the Count, not the "fruits of modern reason" (unless we count hypnosis as a "fruit of modern reason").
Thanks to Elizabeth for referencing the article regarding Catholicism in Dracula from the Journal of Dracula Studies.
Posted by: David | October 19, 2005 at 11:51 AM
"That "authoritarian dogma" and its instruments (crucifixes, etc.) will be successfully deployed against the Count..."
I'm not so sure about that. As I remember it [SPOILER TO FOLLOW], Dracula is destroyed in the end by two very ordinary knives, one which is plunged into his heart, the other which shears through his throat.
Posted by: Baby Jinx | October 19, 2005 at 12:56 PM
Re. authoritarian dogma
>
at the time they were married in Budapest, Dr. Freud had his first now-famous paper published (1893), [...] Unfortunately for our heroes, they were trapped by [...] rigid attitudes [...] at the very time that Reason was literally so close at hand, seeing a way of escape.
>
'sorry I wasn't more clear, (David, BJ). This was *not* about articles of faith. I was intimating about mental health practice and that people weren't allowed to share their hearts, whether in personal relationships or clinical settings--and this at the very time the medical world was so changing (though unknown in English for some twenty more years). This is also another illustration of distance between the world of the story and today.
** SPOILER ALERT **
This not sharing personal secrets does much ill fortune for numerous protagonists in the story. My apolgies for seeming to disparage faith. I submit that one of the powers of the story is the fantastic way Stoker mixes these different world views of faith, reason, and supernatural.
Posted by: Writing-desk Raven | October 19, 2005 at 03:29 PM
A pause in the pace of the current story, so thoughts back to contexts.
Baby Jinx wrote,
>
explains Lucy's childish enthusiasm compared with Mina's matronly and dutiful behaviors.
>
I dunno, mebbe it's from the movies, but I've always thought of Mina (and especially Lucy) as kinda hot. They're both adults, Lucy has three current suitors. Mina is unlikely to be more than some few years older, since spinsterhood was brandished early in those days (and her Jonathan is just starting out as a white-collar professional). Life expectancy was a little less. Mina's and Lucy's attitudes could be seen as more sisterly, or like girlfriends of different school years, particularly since they occasionally sleep together, in a very non-lascivious way. From such as more than a few descriptions of clothing--in rather romantic circumstances like window sills, moonlit nights, and not wanting to be seen by strangers, it has been more than implicit that they inhabit their minimal attire rather well. And the mysterious beauties in the Count's castle made pretty clear that Dracula at least sometimes has impeccable taste in his intended victims. For a proper Victorian novel all this could be pretty racy, while still retaining seemliness.
-W-d R
Posted by: Writing-desk Raven | October 28, 2005 at 10:59 PM