JOHN SEWARD, M.D.

1 October, 4 a. m.—Just as we were about to leave the house, an urgent

message was brought to me from Renfield to know if I would see him at
once, as he had something of the utmost importance to say to me. I told
the messenger to say that I would attend to his wishes in the morning; I
was busy just at the moment. The attendant added:—

“He seems very importunate, sir. I have never seen him so eager. I
don’t know but what, if you don’t see him soon, he will have one of his
violent fits.” I knew the man would not have said this without some
cause, so I said: “All right; I’ll go now”; and I asked the others to wait a
few minutes for me, as I had to go and see my “patient.”

“Take me with you, friend John,” said the Professor. “His case in your
diary interest me much, and it had bearing, too, now and again on
our case. I should much like to see him, and especial when his mind is
disturbed.”

“May I come also?” asked Lord Godalming.

“Me too?” said Quincey Morris. “May I come?” said Harker. I nodded,
and we all went down the passage together.

We found him in a state of considerable excitement, but far more

rational in his speech and manner than I had ever seen him. There
was an unusual understanding of himself, which was unlike anything
I had ever met with in a lunatic; and he took it for granted that his
reasons would prevail with others entirely sane. We all four went into
the room, but none of the others at first said anything. His request was
that I would at once release him from the asylum and send him home.
This he backed up with arguments regarding his complete recovery,
and adduced his own existing sanity. “I appeal to your friends,” he
said, “they will, perhaps, not mind sitting in judgment on my case. By
the way, you have not introduced me.” I was so much astonished, that
the oddness of introducing a madman in an asylum did not strike me
at the moment; and, besides, there was a certain dignity in the man’s
manner, so much of the habit of equality, that I at once made the
introduction: “Lord Godalming; Professor Van Helsing; Mr. Quincey
JOHN SEWARD, M.D.
Morris, of Texas; Mr. Renfield.” He shook hands with each of them,
saying in turn:—

“Lord Godalming, I had the honour of seconding your father at the

Windham; I grieve to know, by your holding the title, that he is no
more. He was a man loved and honoured by all who knew him; and
in his youth was, I have heard, the inventor of a burnt rum punch,
much patronised on Derby night. Mr. Morris, you should be proud of
your great state. Its reception into the Union was a precedent which
may have far-reaching effects hereafter, when the Pole and the Tropics
may hold alliance to the Stars and Stripes. The power of Treaty may
yet prove a vast engine of enlargement, when the Monroe doctrine
takes its true place as a political fable. What shall any man say of his
pleasure at meeting Van Helsing? Sir, I make no apology for dropping
all forms of conventional prefix. When an individual has revolutionised
therapeutics by his discovery of the continuous evolution of brain-
matter, conventional forms are unfitting, since they would seem to limit
him to one of a class. You, gentlemen, who by nationality, by heredity,
or by the possession of natural gifts, are fitted to hold your respective
places in the moving world, I take to witness that I am as sane as at
least the majority of men who are in full possession of their liberties.
And I am sure that you, Dr. Seward, humanitarian and medico-jurist
as well as scientist, will deem it a moral duty to deal with me as one to
be considered as under exceptional circumstances.” He made this last
appeal with a courtly air of conviction which was not without its own
charm.

I think we were all staggered. For my own part, I was under the
conviction, despite my knowledge of the man’s character and history,
that his reason had been restored; and I felt under a strong impulse to
tell him that I was satisfied as to his sanity, and would see about the
necessary formalities for his release in the morning. I thought it better
to wait, however, before making so grave a statement, for of old I knew
the sudden changes to which this particular patient was liable. So I
contented myself with making a general statement that he appeared to
be improving very rapidly; that I would have a longer chat with him in
the morning, and would then see what I could do in the direction of
JOHN SEWARD, M.D.
meeting his wishes. This did not at all satisfy him, for he said quickly:—

“But I fear, Dr. Seward, that you hardly apprehend my wish. I desire to
go at once—here—now—this very hour—this very moment, if I may.
Time presses, and in our implied agreement with the old scytheman
it is of the essence of the contract. I am sure it is only necessary to
put before so admirable a practitioner as Dr. Seward so simple, yet
so momentous a wish, to ensure its fulfilment.” He looked at me
keenly, and seeing the negative in my face, turned to the others, and
scrutinised them closely. Not meeting any sufficient response, he went
on:—

“Is it possible that I have erred in my supposition?”

“You have,” I said frankly, but at the same time, as I felt, brutally. There
was a considerable pause, and then he said slowly:—

“Then I suppose I must only shift my ground of request. Let me ask

for this concession—boon, privilege, what you will. I am content to
implore in such a case, not on personal grounds, but for the sake of
others. I am not at liberty to give you the whole of my reasons; but you
may, I assure you, take it from me that they are good ones, sound and
unselfish, and spring from the highest sense of duty. Could you look,
sir, into my heart, you would approve to the full the sentiments which
animate me. Nay, more, you would count me amongst the best and
truest of your friends.” Again he looked at us all keenly. I had a growing
conviction that this sudden change of his entire intellectual method
was but yet another form or phase of his madness, and so determined
to let him go on a little longer, knowing from experience that he would,
like all lunatics, give himself away in the end. Van Helsing was gazing at
him with a look of utmost intensity, his bushy eyebrows almost meeting
with the fixed concentration of his look. He said to Renfield in a tone
which did not surprise me at the time, but only when I thought of it
afterwards—for it was as of one addressing an equal:—

“Can you not tell frankly your real reason for wishing to be free to-
night? I will undertake that if you will satisfy even me—a stranger,
JOHN SEWARD, M.D.
without prejudice, and with the habit of keeping an open mind—Dr.
Seward will give you, at his own risk and on his own responsibility,
the privilege you seek.” He shook his head sadly, and with a look of
poignant regret on his face. The Professor went on:—

“Come, sir, bethink yourself. You claim the privilege of reason in

the highest degree, since you seek to impress us with your complete
reasonableness. You do this, whose sanity we have reason to doubt,
since you are not yet released from medical treatment for this very
defect. If you will not help us in our effort to choose the wisest course,
how can we perform the duty which you yourself put upon us? Be wise,
and help us; and if we can we shall aid you to achieve your wish.” He
still shook his head as he said:—

“Dr. Van Helsing, I have nothing to say. Your argument is complete,

and if I were free to speak I should not hesitate a moment; but I am not
my own master in the matter. I can only ask you to trust me. If I am
refused, the responsibility does not rest with me.” I thought it was now
time to end the scene, which was becoming too comically grave, so I
went towards the door, simply saying:—

“Come, my friends, we have work to do. Good-night.”

As, however, I got near the door, a new change came over the patient.
He moved towards me so quickly that for the moment I feared that
he was about to make another homicidal attack. My fears, however,
were groundless, for he held up his two hands imploringly, and made
his petition in a moving manner. As he saw that the very excess of his
emotion was militating against him, by restoring us more to our old
relations, he became still more demonstrative. I glanced at Van Helsing,
and saw my conviction reflected in his eyes; so I became a little more
fixed in my manner, if not more stern, and motioned to him that his
efforts were unavailing. I had previously seen something of the same
constantly growing excitement in him when he had to make some
request of which at the time he had thought much, such, for instance,
as when he wanted a cat; and I was prepared to see the collapse into
the same sullen acquiescence on this occasion. My expectation was not
JOHN SEWARD, M.D.
realised, for, when he found that his appeal would not be successful, he
got into quite a frantic condition. He threw himself on his knees, and
held up his hands, wringing them in plaintive supplication, and poured
forth a torrent of entreaty, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, and
his whole face and form expressive of the deepest emotion:—

“Let me entreat you, Dr. Seward, oh, let me implore you, to let me
out of this house at once. Send me away how you will and where you
will; send keepers with me with whips and chains; let them take me
in a strait-waistcoat, manacled and leg-ironed, even to a gaol; but let
me go out of this. You don’t know what you do by keeping me here. I
am speaking from the depths of my heart—of my very soul. You don’t
know whom you wrong, or how; and I may not tell. Woe is me! I may
not tell. By all you hold sacred—by all you hold dear—by your love
that is lost—by your hope that lives—for the sake of the Almighty, take
me out of this and save my soul from guilt! Can’t you hear me, man?
Can’t you understand? Will you never learn? Don’t you know that I am
sane and earnest now; that I am no lunatic in a mad fit, but a sane man
fighting for his soul? Oh, hear me! hear me! Let me go! let me go! let
me go!”

I thought that the longer this went on the wilder he would get, and so
would bring on a fit; so I took him by the hand and raised him up.

“Come,” I said sternly, “no more of this; we have had quite enough
already. Get to your bed and try to behave more discreetly.”

He suddenly stopped and looked at me intently for several moments.

Then, without a word, he rose and moving over, sat down on the side
of the bed. The collapse had come, as on former occasion, just as I had
expected.

When I was leaving the room, last of our party, he said to me in a quiet,
well-bred voice:—

“You will, I trust, Dr. Seward, do me the justice to bear in mind, later
on, that I did what I could to convince you to-night.”