3. May – Bistritz
MARGOT BISSET’S JOURNAL
3. May – Bistritz
I left Munich on the 8:35 pm train on the 1st of May, and arrived at Vienna early the next morning; then I continued to Budapest.
The Hungarian capital seems to be a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible. The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East.
We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale.
During supper, a handsome gentleman sent a bottle of champagne to my table, which I accepted, even though I refused his invitation to spend the night with him, despite the handsome sum he offered me.
I enjoy the few days of respite, for once not in the company of a man who was purchased my services and who I am obliged to please every waking moment. And so I have taken some time to study the lands where my next… benefactor is waiting for my arrival.
Transylvania lies in the extreme east of the Kingdom of Romania, just on the borders of three states, Hungary, Moldavia and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian Mountains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe. I was not able to light on any map the exact location of Castle Dracula, but to my delight I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place.
From what I have read, I know that Romania has a turbulent history, marked by its continuous wars with the Hungarians to the West and the Turks to the South. But the landscapes and especially the Transylvanian alps are described as some of the most beautiful in existence.
Given that I would have to deal with a nobleman of that country, I have read a little on the customs and traditions of the Romanians, but could find little of use, apart from the fact that every known superstition in the world seems to be gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians – as if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting.
I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams, which left me both afraid and aroused – and for a moment I even regretted to have declined the offer from the handsome gentleman at the table, for in that moment I would have gladly lost myself in whatever pleasures I could have found in his arms.
Towards the morning I must have fallen asleep, for I was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door. I dressed in a fine gown made of midnight blue silk, and put on my fur hat and muff, for despite the season, it was chill outside.
I had for breakfast only a glass of champagne, and then made my way to the train station. The Count had arranged for me an elegant cabin, where I could travel in solitude and quite astounding comfort.
All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of beauty of every kind: There were small towns and ruined castles on the top of steep hills, rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side of them to be subject to great floods.
At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of attire. Some of them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through Germany and Austria, with short jackets and round hats and home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque. The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them. The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass nails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very picturesque, even handsome and for a moment I wondered what it would be like to kiss one of these pretty men.
It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a very interesting old place. Being practically on the frontier—for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina—it has had a very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago, a series of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five separate occasions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and disease.
Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I found, to my great delight to be quite elegant and luxurious, despite its small size.
I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress—white undergarment with long double apron, front, and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty.
When I came close she bowed and said in excellent French, “You are Mademoiselle Bisset?”
“Yes,” I said, “I am Margot Bisset.”
She looked at me for a moment, her eyes tracing sceptically over my rather revealing décolletage. I bore the inspection with quiet dignity, I was – after all – quite used to it.
“Mademoiselle, it is cold, and in your attire, you will freeze do death,” she said finally, unable to hide the faint tone of disapproval from her voice.
I told her in the most charming manner that I was used to dress in that manner, and that not even the coldest winter would sway me from following the rigorous dictate of Parisian fashion.
My response put a frown on her brow, and she ushered me instantly to my rooms – which are very comfortable – where she gave me a letter that my benefactor had sent.
My Lady,
Welcome to the Carpathians.
I am anxiously expecting your arrival. Sleep well tonight. At three tomorrow the diligence will depart for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me.
I trust that your journey from Paris has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.
Vlad Dracula, Count of Fagaras.
