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1Frankenstein,
2
3or the Modern Prometheus
4
5
6by
7
8Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley
9
10
11
12
13Letter 1
14
15
16St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17--
17
18TO Mrs. Saville, England
19
20You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the
21commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil
22forebodings.  I arrived here yesterday, and my first task is to assure
23my dear sister of my welfare and increasing confidence in the success
24of my undertaking.
25
26I am already far north of London, and as I walk in the streets of
27Petersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, which
28braces my nerves and fills me with delight.  Do you understand this
29feeling?  This breeze, which has travelled from the regions towards
30which I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes.
31Inspirited by this wind of promise, my daydreams become more fervent
32and vivid.  I try in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seat of
33frost and desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as the
34region of beauty and delight.  There, Margaret, the sun is forever
35visible, its broad disk just skirting the horizon and diffusing a
36perpetual splendour.  There--for with your leave, my sister, I will put
37some trust in preceding navigators--there snow and frost are banished;
38and, sailing over a calm sea, we may be wafted to a land surpassing in
39wonders and in beauty every region hitherto discovered on the habitable
40globe.  Its productions and features may be without example, as the
41phenomena of the heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscovered
42solitudes.  What may not be expected in a country of eternal light?  I
43may there discover the wondrous power which attracts the needle and may
44regulate a thousand celestial observations that require only this
45voyage to render their seeming eccentricities consistent forever.  I
46shall satiate my ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world
47never before visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted by
48the foot of man. These are my enticements, and they are sufficient to
49conquer all fear of danger or death and to induce me to commence this
50laborious voyage with the joy a child feels when he embarks in a little
51boat, with his holiday mates, on an expedition of discovery up his
52native river. But supposing all these conjectures to be false, you
53cannot contest the inestimable benefit which I shall confer on all
54mankind, to the last generation, by discovering a passage near the pole
55to those countries, to reach which at present so many months are
56requisite; or by ascertaining the secret of the magnet, which, if at
57all possible, can only be effected by an undertaking such as mine.
58
59These reflections have dispelled the agitation with which I began my
60letter, and I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me
61to heaven, for nothing contributes so much to tranquillize the mind as
62a steady purpose--a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual
63eye.  This expedition has been the favourite dream of my early years. I
64have read with ardour the accounts of the various voyages which have
65been made in the prospect of arriving at the North Pacific Ocean
66through the seas which surround the pole.  You may remember that a
67history of all the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed the
68whole of our good Uncle Thomas' library.  My education was neglected,
69yet I was passionately fond of reading.  These volumes were my study
70day and night, and my familiarity with them increased that regret which
71I had felt, as a child, on learning that my father's dying injunction
72had forbidden my uncle to allow me to embark in a seafaring life.
73
74These visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those poets
75whose effusions entranced my soul and lifted it to heaven.  I also
76became a poet and for one year lived in a paradise of my own creation;
77I imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where the
78names of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated.  You are well
79acquainted with my failure and how heavily I bore the disappointment.
80But just at that time I inherited the fortune of my cousin, and my
81thoughts were turned into the channel of their earlier bent.
82
83Six years have passed since I resolved on my present undertaking.  I
84can, even now, remember the hour from which I dedicated myself to this
85great enterprise.  I commenced by inuring my body to hardship.  I
86accompanied the whale-fishers on several expeditions to the North Sea;
87I voluntarily endured cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep; I often
88worked harder than the common sailors during the day and devoted my
89nights to the study of mathematics, the theory of medicine, and those
90branches of physical science from which a naval adventurer might derive
91the greatest practical advantage.  Twice I actually hired myself as an
92under-mate in a Greenland whaler, and acquitted myself to admiration. I
93must own I felt a little proud when my captain offered me the second
94dignity in the vessel and entreated me to remain with the greatest
95earnestness, so valuable did he consider my services.  And now, dear
96Margaret, do I not deserve to accomplish some great purpose?  My life
97might have been passed in ease and luxury, but I preferred glory to
98every enticement that wealth placed in my path.  Oh, that some
99encouraging voice would answer in the affirmative!  My courage and my
100resolution is firm; but my hopes fluctuate, and my spirits are often
101depressed.  I am about to proceed on a long and difficult voyage, the
102emergencies of which will demand all my fortitude:  I am required not
103only to raise the spirits of others, but sometimes to sustain my own,
104when theirs are failing.
105
106This is the most favourable period for travelling in Russia.  They fly
107quickly over the snow in their sledges; the motion is pleasant, and, in
108my opinion, far more agreeable than that of an English stagecoach.  The
109cold is not excessive, if you are wrapped in furs--a dress which I have
110already adopted, for there is a great difference between walking the
111deck and remaining seated motionless for hours, when no exercise
112prevents the blood from actually freezing in your veins.  I have no
113ambition to lose my life on the post-road between St. Petersburgh and
114Archangel. I shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight or three
115weeks; and my intention is to hire a ship there, which can easily be
116done by paying the insurance for the owner, and to engage as many
117sailors as I think necessary among those who are accustomed to the
118whale-fishing.  I do not intend to sail until the month of June; and
119when shall I return?  Ah, dear sister, how can I answer this question?
120If I succeed, many, many months, perhaps years, will pass before you
121and I may meet.  If I fail, you will see me again soon, or never.
122Farewell, my dear, excellent Margaret. Heaven shower down blessings on
123you, and save me, that I may again and again testify my gratitude for
124all your love and kindness.
125
126Your affectionate brother,
127  R. Walton
128
129
130
131Letter 2
132
133
134Archangel, 28th March, 17--
135
136To Mrs. Saville, England
137
138How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am by frost and snow!
139Yet a second step is taken towards my enterprise.  I have hired a
140vessel and am occupied in collecting my sailors; those whom I have
141already engaged appear to be men on whom I can depend and are certainly
142possessed of dauntless courage.
143
144But I have one want which I have never yet been able to satisfy, and
145the absence of the object of which I now feel as a most severe evil, I
146have no friend, Margaret:  when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of
147success, there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by
148disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection. I
149shall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true; but that is a poor
150medium for the communication of feeling.  I desire the company of a man
151who could sympathize with me, whose eyes would reply to mine. You may
152deem me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel the want of a
153friend.  I have no one near me, gentle yet courageous, possessed of a
154cultivated as well as of a capacious mind, whose tastes are like my
155own, to approve or amend my plans.  How would such a friend repair the
156faults of your poor brother!  I am too ardent in execution and too
157impatient of difficulties.  But it is a still greater evil to me that I
158am self-educated:  for the first fourteen years of my life I ran wild
159on a common and read nothing but our Uncle Thomas' books of voyages. At
160that age I became acquainted with the celebrated poets of our own
161country; but it was only when it had ceased to be in my power to derive
162its most important benefits from such a conviction that I perceived the
163necessity of becoming acquainted with more languages than that of my
164native country.  Now I am twenty-eight and am in reality more
165illiterate than many schoolboys of fifteen.  It is true that I have
166thought more and that my daydreams are more extended and magnificent,
167but they want (as the painters call it) KEEPING; and I greatly need a
168friend who would have sense enough not to despise me as romantic, and
169affection enough for me to endeavour to regulate my mind.  Well, these
170are useless complaints; I shall certainly find no friend on the wide
171ocean, nor even here in Archangel, among merchants and seamen.  Yet
172some feelings, unallied to the dross of human nature, beat even in
173these rugged bosoms.  My lieutenant, for instance, is a man of
174wonderful courage and enterprise; he is madly desirous of glory, or
175rather, to word my phrase more characteristically, of advancement in
176his profession.  He is an Englishman, and in the midst of national and
177professional prejudices, unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of the
178noblest endowments of humanity.  I first became acquainted with him on
179board a whale vessel; finding that he was unemployed in this city, I
180easily engaged him to assist in my enterprise.  The master is a person
181of an excellent disposition and is remarkable in the ship for his
182gentleness and the mildness of his discipline.  This circumstance,
183added to his well-known integrity and dauntless courage, made me very
184desirous to engage him.  A youth passed in solitude, my best years
185spent under your gentle and feminine fosterage, has so refined the
186groundwork of my character that I cannot overcome an intense distaste
187to the usual brutality exercised on board ship:  I have never believed
188it to be necessary, and when I heard of a mariner equally noted for his
189kindliness of heart and the respect and obedience paid to him by his
190crew, I felt myself peculiarly fortunate in being able to secure his
191services.  I heard of him first in rather a romantic manner, from a
192lady who owes to him the happiness of her life.  This, briefly, is his
193story.  Some years ago he loved a young Russian lady of moderate
194fortune, and having amassed a considerable sum in prize-money, the
195father of the girl consented to the match.  He saw his mistress once
196before the destined ceremony; but she was bathed in tears, and throwing
197herself at his feet, entreated him to spare her, confessing at the same
198time that she loved another, but that he was poor, and that her father
199would never consent to the union.  My generous friend reassured the
200suppliant, and on being informed of the name of her lover, instantly
201abandoned his pursuit.  He had already bought a farm with his money, on
202which he had designed to pass the remainder of his life; but he
203bestowed the whole on his rival, together with the remains of his
204prize-money to purchase stock, and then himself solicited the young
205woman's father to consent to her marriage with her lover.  But the old
206man decidedly refused, thinking himself bound in honour to my friend,
207who, when he found the father inexorable, quitted his country, nor
208returned until he heard that his former mistress was married according
209to her inclinations.  "What a noble fellow!" you will exclaim.  He is
210so; but then he is wholly uneducated:  he is as silent as a Turk, and a
211kind of ignorant carelessness attends him, which, while it renders his
212conduct the more astonishing, detracts from the interest and sympathy
213which otherwise he would command.
214
215Yet do not suppose, because I complain a little or because I can
216conceive a consolation for my toils which I may never know, that I am
217wavering in my resolutions.  Those are as fixed as fate, and my voyage
218is only now delayed until the weather shall permit my embarkation.  The
219winter has been dreadfully severe, but the spring promises well, and it
220is considered as a remarkably early season, so that perhaps I may sail
221sooner than I expected.  I shall do nothing rashly:  you know me
222sufficiently to confide in my prudence and considerateness whenever the
223safety of others is committed to my care.
224
225I cannot describe to you my sensations on the near prospect of my
226undertaking.  It is impossible to communicate to you a conception of
227the trembling sensation, half pleasurable and half fearful, with which
228I am preparing to depart.  I am going to unexplored regions, to "the
229land of mist and snow," but I shall kill no albatross; therefore do not
230be alarmed for my safety or if I should come back to you as worn and
231woeful as the "Ancient Mariner."  You will smile at my allusion, but I
232will disclose a secret.  I have often attributed my attachment to, my
233passionate enthusiasm for, the dangerous mysteries of ocean to that
234production of the most imaginative of modern poets.  There is something
235at work in my soul which I do not understand.  I am practically
236industrious--painstaking, a workman to execute with perseverance and
237labour--but besides this there is a love for the marvellous, a belief
238in the marvellous, intertwined in all my projects, which hurries me out
239of the common pathways of men, even to the wild sea and unvisited
240regions I am about to explore. But to return to dearer considerations.
241Shall I meet you again, after having traversed immense seas, and
242returned by the most southern cape of Africa or America?  I dare not
243expect such success, yet I cannot bear to look on the reverse of the
244picture.  Continue for the present to write to me by every opportunity:
245I may receive your letters on some occasions when I need them most to
246support my spirits.  I love you very tenderly.  Remember me with
247affection, should you never hear from me again.
248
249Your affectionate brother,
250  Robert Walton
251
252
253
254Letter 3
255
256
257
258July 7th, 17--
259
260To Mrs. Saville, England
261
262My dear Sister,
263
264I write a few lines in haste to say that I am safe--and well advanced
265on my voyage.  This letter will reach England by a merchantman now on
266its homeward voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not
267see my native land, perhaps, for many years.  I am, however, in good
268spirits:  my men are bold and apparently firm of purpose, nor do the
269floating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the dangers
270of the region towards which we are advancing, appear to dismay them. We
271have already reached a very high latitude; but it is the height of
272summer, and although not so warm as in England, the southern gales,
273which blow us speedily towards those shores which I so ardently desire
274to attain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth which I had not
275expected.
276
277No incidents have hitherto befallen us that would make a figure in a
278letter.  One or two stiff gales and the springing of a leak are
279accidents which experienced navigators scarcely remember to record, and
280I shall be well content if nothing worse happen to us during our voyage.
281
282Adieu, my dear Margaret.  Be assured that for my own sake, as well as
283yours, I will not rashly encounter danger.  I will be cool,
284persevering, and prudent.
285
286But success SHALL crown my endeavours.  Wherefore not?  Thus far I have
287gone, tracing a secure way over the pathless seas, the very stars
288themselves being witnesses and testimonies of my triumph.  Why not
289still proceed over the untamed yet obedient element?  What can stop the
290determined heart and resolved will of man?
291
292My swelling heart involuntarily pours itself out thus.  But I must
293finish.  Heaven bless my beloved sister!
294
295R.W.
296
297
298
299Letter 4
300
301
302
303August 5th, 17--
304
305To Mrs. Saville, England
306
307So strange an accident has happened to us that I cannot forbear
308recording it, although it is very probable that you will see me before
309these papers can come into your possession.
310
311Last Monday (July 31st) we were nearly surrounded by ice, which closed
312in the ship on all sides, scarcely leaving her the sea-room in which
313she floated.  Our situation was somewhat dangerous, especially as we
314were compassed round by a very thick fog.  We accordingly lay to,
315hoping that some change would take place in the atmosphere and weather.
316
317About two o'clock the mist cleared away, and we beheld, stretched out
318in every direction, vast and irregular plains of ice, which seemed to
319have no end.  Some of my comrades groaned, and my own mind began to
320grow watchful with anxious thoughts, when a strange sight suddenly
321attracted our attention and diverted our solicitude from our own
322situation.  We perceived a low carriage, fixed on a sledge and drawn by
323dogs, pass on towards the north, at the distance of half a mile; a
324being which had the shape of a man, but apparently of gigantic stature,
325sat in the sledge and guided the dogs.  We watched the rapid progress
326of the traveller with our telescopes until he was lost among the
327distant inequalities of the ice.  This appearance excited our
328unqualified wonder.  We were, as we believed, many hundred miles from
329any land; but this apparition seemed to denote that it was not, in
330reality, so distant as we had supposed.  Shut in, however, by ice, it
331was impossible to follow his track, which we had observed with the
332greatest attention.  About two hours after this occurrence we heard the
333ground sea, and before night the ice broke and freed our ship.  We,
334however, lay to until the morning, fearing to encounter in the dark
335those large loose masses which float about after the breaking up of the
336ice.  I profited of this time to rest for a few hours.
337
338In the morning, however, as soon as it was light, I went upon deck and
339found all the sailors busy on one side of the vessel, apparently
340talking to someone in the sea.  It was, in fact, a sledge, like that we
341had seen before, which had drifted towards us in the night on a large
342fragment of ice.  Only one dog remained alive; but there was a human
343being within it whom the sailors were persuading to enter the vessel.
344He was not, as the other traveller seemed to be, a savage inhabitant of
345some undiscovered island, but a European.  When I appeared on deck the
346master said, "Here is our captain, and he will not allow you to perish
347on the open sea."
348
349On perceiving me, the stranger addressed me in English, although with a
350foreign accent.  "Before I come on board your vessel," said he, "will
351you have the kindness to inform me whither you are bound?"
352
353You may conceive my astonishment on hearing such a question addressed
354to me from a man on the brink of destruction and to whom I should have
355supposed that my vessel would have been a resource which he would not
356have exchanged for the most precious wealth the earth can afford.  I
357replied, however, that we were on a voyage of discovery towards the
358northern pole.
359
360Upon hearing this he appeared satisfied and consented to come on board.
361Good God!  Margaret, if you had seen the man who thus capitulated for
362his safety, your surprise would have been boundless.  His limbs were
363nearly frozen, and his body dreadfully emaciated by fatigue and
364suffering.  I never saw a man in so wretched a condition.  We attempted
365to carry him into the cabin, but as soon as he had quitted the fresh
366air he fainted.  We accordingly brought him back to the deck and
367restored him to animation by rubbing him with brandy and forcing him to
368swallow a small quantity.  As soon as he showed signs of life we
369wrapped him up in blankets and placed him near the chimney of the
370kitchen stove.  By slow degrees he recovered and ate a little soup,
371which restored him wonderfully.
372
373Two days passed in this manner before he was able to speak, and I often
374feared that his sufferings had deprived him of understanding.  When he
375had in some measure recovered, I removed him to my own cabin and
376attended on him as much as my duty would permit.  I never saw a more
377interesting creature:  his eyes have generally an expression of
378wildness, and even madness, but there are moments when, if anyone
379performs an act of kindness towards him or does him any the most
380trifling service, his whole countenance is lighted up, as it were, with
381a beam of benevolence and sweetness that I never saw equalled.  But he
382is generally melancholy and despairing, and sometimes he gnashes his
383teeth, as if impatient of the weight of woes that oppresses him.
384
385When my guest was a little recovered I had great trouble to keep off
386the men, who wished to ask him a thousand questions; but I would not
387allow him to be tormented by their idle curiosity, in a state of body
388and mind whose restoration evidently depended upon entire repose.
389Once, however, the lieutenant asked why he had come so far upon the ice
390in so strange a vehicle.
391
392His countenance instantly assumed an aspect of the deepest gloom, and
393he replied, "To seek one who fled from me."
394
395"And did the man whom you pursued travel in the same fashion?"
396
397"Yes."
398
399"Then I fancy we have seen him, for the day before we picked you up we
400saw some dogs drawing a sledge, with a man in it, across the ice."
401
402This aroused the stranger's attention, and he asked a multitude of
403questions concerning the route which the demon, as he called him, had
404pursued.  Soon after, when he was alone with me, he said, "I have,
405doubtless, excited your curiosity, as well as that of these good
406people; but you are too considerate to make inquiries."
407
408"Certainly; it would indeed be very impertinent and inhuman in me to
409trouble you with any inquisitiveness of mine."
410
411"And yet you rescued me from a strange and perilous situation; you have
412benevolently restored me to life."
413
414Soon after this he inquired if I thought that the breaking up of the
415ice had destroyed the other sledge.  I replied that I could not answer
416with any degree of certainty, for the ice had not broken until near
417midnight, and the traveller might have arrived at a place of safety
418before that time; but of this I could not judge.  From this time a new
419spirit of life animated the decaying frame of the stranger.  He
420manifested the greatest eagerness to be upon deck to watch for the
421sledge which had before appeared; but I have persuaded him to remain in
422the cabin, for he is far too weak to sustain the rawness of the
423atmosphere.  I have promised that someone should watch for him and give
424him instant notice if any new object should appear in sight.
425
426Such is my journal of what relates to this strange occurrence up to the
427present day.  The stranger has gradually improved in health but is very
428silent and appears uneasy when anyone except myself enters his cabin.
429Yet his manners are so conciliating and gentle that the sailors are all
430interested in him, although they have had very little communication
431with him.  For my own part, I begin to love him as a brother, and his
432constant and deep grief fills me with sympathy and compassion.  He must
433have been a noble creature in his better days, being even now in wreck
434so attractive and amiable.  I said in one of my letters, my dear
435Margaret, that I should find no friend on the wide ocean; yet I have
436found a man who, before his spirit had been broken by misery, I should
437have been happy to have possessed as the brother of my heart.
438
439I shall continue my journal concerning the stranger at intervals,
440should I have any fresh incidents to record.
441
442
443August 13th, 17--
444
445My affection for my guest increases every day.  He excites at once my
446admiration and my pity to an astonishing degree.  How can I see so
447noble a creature destroyed by misery without feeling the most poignant
448grief?  He is so gentle, yet so wise; his mind is so cultivated, and
449when he speaks, although his words are culled with the choicest art,
450yet they flow with rapidity and unparalleled eloquence.  He is now much
451recovered from his illness and is continually on the deck, apparently
452watching for the sledge that preceded his own.  Yet, although unhappy,
453he is not so utterly occupied by his own misery but that he interests
454himself deeply in the projects of others.  He has frequently conversed
455with me on mine, which I have communicated to him without disguise.  He
456entered attentively into all my arguments in favour of my eventual
457success and into every minute detail of the measures I had taken to
458secure it.  I was easily led by the sympathy which he evinced to use
459the language of my heart, to give utterance to the burning ardour of my
460soul and to say, with all the fervour that warmed me, how gladly I
461would sacrifice my fortune, my existence, my every hope, to the
462furtherance of my enterprise.  One man's life or death were but a small
463price to pay for the acquirement of the knowledge which I sought, for
464the dominion I should acquire and transmit over the elemental foes of
465our race.  As I spoke, a dark gloom spread over my listener's
466countenance.  At first I perceived that he tried to suppress his
467emotion; he placed his hands before his eyes, and my voice quivered and
468failed me as I beheld tears trickle fast from between his fingers; a
469groan burst from his heaving breast.  I paused; at length he spoke, in
470broken accents:  "Unhappy man!  Do you share my madness?  Have you
471drunk also of the intoxicating draught?  Hear me; let me reveal my
472tale, and you will dash the cup from your lips!"
473
474Such words, you may imagine, strongly excited my curiosity; but the
475paroxysm of grief that had seized the stranger overcame his weakened
476powers, and many hours of repose and tranquil conversation were
477necessary to restore his composure.  Having conquered the violence of
478his feelings, he appeared to despise himself for being the slave of
479passion; and quelling the dark tyranny of despair, he led me again to
480converse concerning myself personally.  He asked me the history of my
481earlier years.  The tale was quickly told, but it awakened various
482trains of reflection.  I spoke of my desire of finding a friend, of my
483thirst for a more intimate sympathy with a fellow mind than had ever
484fallen to my lot, and expressed my conviction that a man could boast of
485little happiness who did not enjoy this blessing.  "I agree with you,"
486replied the stranger; "we are unfashioned creatures, but half made up,
487if one wiser, better, dearer than ourselves--such a friend ought to
488be--do not lend his aid to perfectionate our weak and faulty natures. I
489once had a friend, the most noble of human creatures, and am entitled,
490therefore, to judge respecting friendship.  You have hope, and the
491world before you, and have no cause for despair.  But I--I have lost
492everything and cannot begin life anew."
493
494As he said this his countenance became expressive of a calm, settled
495grief that touched me to the heart.  But he was silent and presently
496retired to his cabin.
497
498Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he
499does the beauties of nature.  The starry sky, the sea, and every sight
500afforded by these wonderful regions seem still to have the power of
501elevating his soul from earth.  Such a man has a double existence:  he
502may suffer misery and be overwhelmed by disappointments, yet when he
503has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a
504halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.
505
506Will you smile at the enthusiasm I express concerning this divine
507wanderer?  You would not if you saw him.  You have been tutored and
508refined by books and retirement from the world, and you are therefore
509somewhat fastidious; but this only renders you the more fit to
510appreciate the extraordinary merits of this wonderful man.  Sometimes I
511have endeavoured to discover what quality it is which he possesses that
512elevates him so immeasurably above any other person I ever knew.  I
513believe it to be an intuitive discernment, a quick but never-failing
514power of judgment, a penetration into the causes of things, unequalled
515for clearness and precision; add to this a facility of expression and a
516voice whose varied intonations are soul-subduing music.
517
518
519August 19, 17--
520
521Yesterday the stranger said to me, "You may easily perceive, Captain
522Walton, that I have suffered great and unparalleled misfortunes.  I had
523determined at one time that the memory of these evils should die with
524me, but you have won me to alter my determination.  You seek for
525knowledge and wisdom, as I once did; and I ardently hope that the
526gratification of your wishes may not be a serpent to sting you, as mine
527has been.  I do not know that the relation of my disasters will be
528useful to you; yet, when I reflect that you are pursuing the same
529course, exposing yourself to the same dangers which have rendered me
530what I am, I imagine that you may deduce an apt moral from my tale, one
531that may direct you if you succeed in your undertaking and console you
532in case of failure.  Prepare to hear of occurrences which are usually
533deemed marvellous.  Were we among the tamer scenes of nature I might
534fear to encounter your unbelief, perhaps your ridicule; but many things
535will appear possible in these wild and mysterious regions which would
536provoke the laughter of those unacquainted with the ever-varied powers
537of nature; nor can I doubt but that my tale conveys in its series
538internal evidence of the truth of the events of which it is composed."
539
540You may easily imagine that I was much gratified by the offered
541communication, yet I could not endure that he should renew his grief by
542a recital of his misfortunes.  I felt the greatest eagerness to hear
543the promised narrative, partly from curiosity and partly from a strong
544desire to ameliorate his fate if it were in my power.  I expressed
545these feelings in my answer.
546
547"I thank you," he replied, "for your sympathy, but it is useless; my
548fate is nearly fulfilled.  I wait but for one event, and then I shall
549repose in peace.  I understand your feeling," continued he, perceiving
550that I wished to interrupt him; "but you are mistaken, my friend, if
551thus you will allow me to name you; nothing can alter my destiny;
552listen to my history, and you will perceive how irrevocably it is
553determined."
554
555He then told me that he would commence his narrative the next day when
556I should be at leisure.  This promise drew from me the warmest thanks.
557I have resolved every night, when I am not imperatively occupied by my
558duties, to record, as nearly as possible in his own words, what he has
559related during the day.  If I should be engaged, I will at least make
560notes.  This manuscript will doubtless afford you the greatest
561pleasure; but to me, who know him, and who hear it from his own
562lips--with what interest and sympathy shall I read it in some future
563day!  Even now, as I commence my task, his full-toned voice swells in
564my ears; his lustrous eyes dwell on me with all their melancholy
565sweetness; I see his thin hand raised in animation, while the
566lineaments of his face are irradiated by the soul within.
567
568Strange and harrowing must be his story, frightful the storm which
569embraced the gallant vessel on its course and wrecked it--thus!
570
571
572
573Chapter 1
574
575I am by birth a Genevese, and my family is one of the most
576distinguished of that republic.  My ancestors had been for many years
577counsellors and syndics, and my father had filled several public
578situations with honour and reputation.  He was respected by all who
579knew him for his integrity and indefatigable attention to public
580business.  He passed his younger days perpetually occupied by the
581affairs of his country; a variety of circumstances had prevented his
582marrying early, nor was it until the decline of life that he became a
583husband and the father of a family.
584
585As the circumstances of his marriage illustrate his character, I cannot
586refrain from relating them.  One of his most intimate friends was a
587merchant who, from a flourishing state, fell, through numerous
588mischances, into poverty.  This man, whose name was Beaufort, was of a
589proud and unbending disposition and could not bear to live in poverty
590and oblivion in the same country where he had formerly been
591distinguished for his rank and magnificence.  Having paid his debts,
592therefore, in the most honourable manner, he retreated with his
593daughter to the town of Lucerne, where he lived unknown and in
594wretchedness.  My father loved Beaufort with the truest friendship and
595was deeply grieved by his retreat in these unfortunate circumstances.
596He bitterly deplored the false pride which led his friend to a conduct
597so little worthy of the affection that united them.  He lost no time in
598endeavouring to seek him out, with the hope of persuading him to begin
599the world again through his credit and assistance.
600
601Beaufort had taken effectual measures to conceal himself, and it was ten
602months before my father discovered his abode.  Overjoyed at this
603discovery, he hastened to the house, which was situated in a mean street
604near the Reuss.  But when he entered, misery and despair alone welcomed
605him.  Beaufort had saved but a very small sum of money from the wreck of
606his fortunes, but it was sufficient to provide him with sustenance for
607some months, and in the meantime he hoped to procure some respectable
608employment in a merchant's house.  The interval was, consequently, spent
609in inaction; his grief only became more deep and rankling when he had
610leisure for reflection, and at length it took so fast hold of his mind
611that at the end of three months he lay on a bed of sickness, incapable
612of any exertion.
613
614His daughter attended him with the greatest tenderness, but she saw
615with despair that their little fund was rapidly decreasing and that
616there was no other prospect of support.  But Caroline Beaufort
617possessed a mind of an uncommon mould, and her courage rose to support
618her in her adversity.  She procured plain work; she plaited straw and
619by various means contrived to earn a pittance scarcely sufficient to
620support life.
621
622Several months passed in this manner.  Her father grew worse; her time
623was more entirely occupied in attending him; her means of subsistence
624decreased; and in the tenth month her father died in her arms, leaving
625her an orphan and a beggar.  This last blow overcame her, and she knelt
626by Beaufort's coffin weeping bitterly, when my father entered the
627chamber.  He came like a protecting spirit to the poor girl, who
628committed herself to his care; and after the interment of his friend he
629conducted her to Geneva and placed her under the protection of a
630relation.  Two years after this event Caroline became his wife.
631
632There was a considerable difference between the ages of my parents, but
633this circumstance seemed to unite them only closer in bonds of devoted
634affection.  There was a sense of justice in my father's upright mind
635which rendered it necessary that he should approve highly to love
636strongly.  Perhaps during former years he had suffered from the
637late-discovered unworthiness of one beloved and so was disposed to set
638a greater value on tried worth.  There was a show of gratitude and
639worship in his attachment to my mother, differing wholly from the
640doting fondness of age, for it was inspired by reverence for her
641virtues and a desire to be the means of, in some degree, recompensing
642her for the sorrows she had endured, but which gave inexpressible grace
643to his behaviour to her.  Everything was made to yield to her wishes
644and her convenience.  He strove to shelter her, as a fair exotic is
645sheltered by the gardener, from every rougher wind and to surround her
646with all that could tend to excite pleasurable emotion in her soft and
647benevolent mind.  Her health, and even the tranquillity of her hitherto
648constant spirit, had been shaken by what she had gone through.  During
649the two years that had elapsed previous to their marriage my father had
650gradually relinquished all his public functions; and immediately after
651their union they sought the pleasant climate of Italy, and the change
652of scene and interest attendant on a tour through that land of wonders,
653as a restorative for her weakened frame.
654
655From Italy they visited Germany and France.  I, their eldest child, was
656born at Naples, and as an infant accompanied them in their rambles.  I
657remained for several years their only child.  Much as they were
658attached to each other, they seemed to draw inexhaustible stores of
659affection from a very mine of love to bestow them upon me.  My mother's
660tender caresses and my father's smile of benevolent pleasure while
661regarding me are my first recollections.  I was their plaything and
662their idol, and something better--their child, the innocent and
663helpless creature bestowed on them by heaven, whom to bring up to good,
664and whose future lot it was in their hands to direct to happiness or
665misery, according as they fulfilled their duties towards me.  With this
666deep consciousness of what they owed towards the being to which they
667had given life, added to the active spirit of tenderness that animated
668both, it may be imagined that while during every hour of my infant life
669I received a lesson of patience, of charity, and of self-control, I was
670so guided by a silken cord that all seemed but one train of enjoyment
671to me. For a long time I was their only care.  My mother had much
672desired to have a daughter, but I continued their single offspring.
673When I was about five years old, while making an excursion beyond the
674frontiers of Italy, they passed a week on the shores of the Lake of
675Como.  Their benevolent disposition often made them enter the cottages
676of the poor.  This, to my mother, was more than a duty; it was a
677necessity, a passion--remembering what she had suffered, and how she
678had been relieved--for her to act in her turn the guardian angel to the
679afflicted.  During one of their walks a poor cot in the foldings of a
680vale attracted their notice as being singularly disconsolate, while the
681number of half-clothed children gathered about it spoke of penury in
682its worst shape.  One day, when my father had gone by himself to Milan,
683my mother, accompanied by me, visited this abode.  She found a peasant
684and his wife, hard working, bent down by care and labour, distributing
685a scanty meal to five hungry babes.  Among these there was one which
686attracted my mother far above all the rest.  She appeared of a
687different stock.  The four others were dark-eyed, hardy little
688vagrants; this child was thin and very fair.  Her hair was the
689brightest living gold, and despite the poverty of her clothing, seemed
690to set a crown of distinction on her head.  Her brow was clear and
691ample, her blue eyes cloudless, and her lips and the moulding of her
692face so expressive of sensibility and sweetness that none could behold
693her without looking on her as of a distinct species, a being
694heaven-sent, and bearing a celestial stamp in all her features. The
695peasant woman, perceiving that my mother fixed eyes of wonder and
696admiration on this lovely girl, eagerly communicated her history.  She
697was not her child, but the daughter of a Milanese nobleman.  Her mother
698was a German and had died on giving her birth.  The infant had been
699placed with these good people to nurse:  they were better off then.
700They had not been long married, and their eldest child was but just
701born.  The father of their charge was one of those Italians nursed in
702the memory of the antique glory of Italy--one among the schiavi ognor
703frementi, who exerted himself to obtain the liberty of his country.  He
704became the victim of its weakness.  Whether he had died or still
705lingered in the dungeons of Austria was not known.  His property was
706confiscated; his child became an orphan and a beggar.  She continued
707with her foster parents and bloomed in their rude abode, fairer than a
708garden rose among dark-leaved brambles.  When my father returned from
709Milan, he found playing with me in the hall of our villa a child fairer
710than pictured cherub--a creature who seemed to shed radiance from her
711looks and whose form and motions were lighter than the chamois of the
712hills.  The apparition was soon explained.  With his permission my
713mother prevailed on her rustic guardians to yield their charge to her.
714They were fond of the sweet orphan.  Her presence had seemed a blessing
715to them, but it would be unfair to her to keep her in poverty and want
716when Providence afforded her such powerful protection.  They consulted
717their village priest, and the result was that Elizabeth Lavenza became
718the inmate of my parents' house--my more than sister--the beautiful and
719adored companion of all my occupations and my pleasures.
720
721Everyone loved Elizabeth.  The passionate and almost reverential
722attachment with which all regarded her became, while I shared it, my
723pride and my delight.  On the evening previous to her being brought to
724my home, my mother had said playfully, "I have a pretty present for my
725Victor--tomorrow he shall have it."  And when, on the morrow, she
726presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish
727seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth
728as mine--mine to protect, love, and cherish.  All praises bestowed on
729her I received as made to a possession of my own.  We called each other
730familiarly by the name of cousin.  No word, no expression could body
731forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me--my more than
732sister, since till death she was to be mine only.
733
734
735
736Chapter 2
737
738We were brought up together; there was not quite a year difference in
739our ages.  I need not say that we were strangers to any species of
740disunion or dispute.  Harmony was the soul of our companionship, and
741the diversity and contrast that subsisted in our characters drew us
742nearer together.  Elizabeth was of a calmer and more concentrated
743disposition; but, with all my ardour, I was capable of a more intense
744application and was more deeply smitten with the thirst for knowledge.
745She busied herself with following the aerial creations of the poets;
746and in the majestic and wondrous scenes which surrounded our Swiss home
747--the sublime shapes of the mountains, the changes of the seasons,
748tempest and calm, the silence of winter, and the life and turbulence of
749our Alpine summers--she found ample scope for admiration and delight.
750While my companion contemplated with a serious and satisfied spirit the
751magnificent appearances of things, I delighted in investigating their
752causes.  The world was to me a secret which I desired to divine.
753Curiosity, earnest research to learn the hidden laws of nature,
754gladness akin to rapture, as they were unfolded to me, are among the
755earliest sensations I can remember.
756
757On the birth of a second son, my junior by seven years, my parents gave
758up entirely their wandering life and fixed themselves in their native
759country.  We possessed a house in Geneva, and a campagne on Belrive,
760the eastern shore of the lake, at the distance of rather more than a
761league from the city.  We resided principally in the latter, and the
762lives of my parents were passed in considerable seclusion.  It was my
763temper to avoid a crowd and to attach myself fervently to a few.  I was
764indifferent, therefore, to my school-fellows in general; but I united
765myself in the bonds of the closest friendship to one among them.  Henry
766Clerval was the son of a merchant of Geneva.  He was a boy of singular
767talent and fancy.  He loved enterprise, hardship, and even danger for
768its own sake.  He was deeply read in books of chivalry and romance.  He
769composed heroic songs and began to write many a tale of enchantment and
770knightly adventure.  He tried to make us act plays and to enter into
771masquerades, in which the characters were drawn from the heroes of
772Roncesvalles, of the Round Table of King Arthur, and the chivalrous
773train who shed their blood to redeem the holy sepulchre from the hands
774of the infidels.
775
776No human being could have passed a happier childhood than myself.  My
777parents were possessed by the very spirit of kindness and indulgence.
778We felt that they were not the tyrants to rule our lot according to
779their caprice, but the agents and creators of all the many delights
780which we enjoyed.  When I mingled with other families I distinctly
781discerned how peculiarly fortunate my lot was, and gratitude assisted
782the development of filial love.
783
784My temper was sometimes violent, and my passions vehement; but by some
785law in my temperature they were turned not towards childish pursuits
786but to an eager desire to learn, and not to learn all things
787indiscriminately.  I confess that neither the structure of languages,
788nor the code of governments, nor the politics of various states
789possessed attractions for me.  It was the secrets of heaven and earth
790that I desired to learn; and whether it was the outward substance of
791things or the inner spirit of nature and the mysterious soul of man
792that occupied me, still my inquiries were directed to the metaphysical,
793or in its highest sense, the physical secrets of the world.
794
795Meanwhile Clerval occupied himself, so to speak, with the moral
796relations of things.  The busy stage of life, the virtues of heroes,
797and the actions of men were his theme; and his hope and his dream was
798to become one among those whose names are recorded in story as the
799gallant and adventurous benefactors of our species.  The saintly soul
800of Elizabeth shone like a shrine-dedicated lamp in our peaceful home.
801Her sympathy was ours; her smile, her soft voice, the sweet glance of
802her celestial eyes, were ever there to bless and animate us.  She was
803the living spirit of love to soften and attract; I might have become
804sullen in my study, rough through the ardour of my nature, but that
805she was there to subdue me to a semblance of her own gentleness.  And
806Clerval--could aught ill entrench on the noble spirit of Clerval?  Yet
807he might not have been so perfectly humane, so thoughtful in his
808generosity, so full of kindness and tenderness amidst his passion for
809adventurous exploit, had she not unfolded to him the real loveliness of
810beneficence and made the doing good the end and aim of his soaring
811ambition.
812
813I feel exquisite pleasure in dwelling on the recollections of
814childhood, before misfortune had tainted my mind and changed its bright
815visions of extensive usefulness into gloomy and narrow reflections upon
816self.  Besides, in drawing the picture of my early days, I also record
817those events which led, by insensible steps, to my after tale of
818misery, for when I would account to myself for the birth of that
819passion which afterwards ruled my destiny I find it arise, like a
820mountain river, from ignoble and almost forgotten sources; but,
821swelling as it proceeded, it became the torrent which, in its course,
822has swept away all my hopes and joys.  Natural philosophy is the genius
823that has regulated my fate; I desire, therefore, in this narration, to
824state those facts which led to my predilection for that science.  When
825I was thirteen years of age we all went on a party of pleasure to the
826baths near Thonon; the inclemency of the weather obliged us to remain a
827day confined to the inn.  In this house I chanced to find a volume of
828the works of Cornelius Agrippa.  I opened it with apathy; the theory
829which he attempts to demonstrate and the wonderful facts which he
830relates soon changed this feeling into enthusiasm.  A new light seemed
831to dawn upon my mind, and bounding with joy, I communicated my
832discovery to my father.  My father looked carelessly at the title page
833of my book and said, "Ah!  Cornelius Agrippa!  My dear Victor, do not
834waste your time upon this; it is sad trash."
835
836If, instead of this remark, my father had taken the pains to explain to
837me that the principles of Agrippa had been entirely exploded and that a
838modern system of science had been introduced which possessed much
839greater powers than the ancient, because the powers of the latter were
840chimerical, while those of the former were real and practical, under
841such circumstances I should certainly have thrown Agrippa aside and
842have contented my imagination, warmed as it was, by returning with
843greater ardour to my former studies.  It is even possible that the
844train of my ideas would never have received the fatal impulse that led
845to my ruin.  But the cursory glance my father had taken of my volume by
846no means assured me that he was acquainted with its contents, and I
847continued to read with the greatest avidity.  When I returned home my
848first care was to procure the whole works of this author, and
849afterwards of Paracelsus and Albertus Magnus.  I read and studied the
850wild fancies of these writers with delight; they appeared to me
851treasures known to few besides myself.  I have described myself as
852always having been imbued with a fervent longing to penetrate the
853secrets of nature.  In spite of the intense labour and wonderful
854discoveries of modern philosophers, I always came from my studies
855discontented and unsatisfied.  Sir Isaac Newton is said to have avowed
856that he felt like a child picking up shells beside the great and
857unexplored ocean of truth.  Those of his successors in each branch of
858natural philosophy with whom I was acquainted appeared even to my boy's
859apprehensions as tyros engaged in the same pursuit.
860
861The untaught peasant beheld the elements around him and was acquainted
862with their practical uses.  The most learned philosopher knew little
863more.  He had partially unveiled the face of Nature, but her immortal
864lineaments were still a wonder and a mystery.  He might dissect,
865anatomize, and give names; but, not to speak of a final cause, causes
866in their secondary and tertiary grades were utterly unknown to him.  I
867had gazed upon the fortifications and impediments that seemed to keep
868human beings from entering the citadel of nature, and rashly and
869ignorantly I had repined.
870
871But here were books, and here were men who had penetrated deeper and
872knew more.  I took their word for all that they averred, and I became
873their disciple.  It may appear strange that such should arise in the
874eighteenth century; but while I followed the routine of education in
875the schools of Geneva, I was, to a great degree, self-taught with
876regard to my favourite studies.  My father was not scientific, and I
877was left to struggle with a child's blindness, added to a student's
878thirst for knowledge.  Under the guidance of my new preceptors I
879entered with the greatest diligence into the search of the
880philosopher's stone and the elixir of life; but the latter soon
881obtained my undivided attention.  Wealth was an inferior object, but
882what glory would attend the discovery if I could banish disease from
883the human frame and render man invulnerable to any but a violent death!
884Nor were these my only visions.  The raising of ghosts or devils was a
885promise liberally accorded by my favourite authors, the fulfilment of
886which I most eagerly sought; and if my incantations were always
887unsuccessful, I attributed the failure rather to my own inexperience
888and mistake than to a want of skill or fidelity in my instructors.  And
889thus for a time I was occupied by exploded systems, mingling, like an
890unadept, a thousand contradictory theories and floundering desperately
891in a very slough of multifarious knowledge, guided by an ardent
892imagination and childish reasoning, till an accident again changed the
893current of my ideas.  When I was about fifteen years old we had retired
894to our house near Belrive, when we witnessed a most violent and
895terrible thunderstorm.  It advanced from behind the mountains of Jura,
896and the thunder burst at once with frightful loudness from various
897quarters of the heavens.  I remained, while the storm lasted, watching
898its progress with curiosity and delight.  As I stood at the door, on a
899sudden I beheld a stream of fire issue from an old and beautiful oak
900which stood about twenty yards from our house; and so soon as the
901dazzling light vanished, the oak had disappeared, and nothing remained
902but a blasted stump.  When we visited it the next morning, we found the
903tree shattered in a singular manner.  It was not splintered by the
904shock, but entirely reduced to thin ribbons of wood.  I never beheld
905anything so utterly destroyed.
906
907Before this I was not unacquainted with the more obvious laws of
908electricity.  On this occasion a man of great research in natural
909philosophy was with us, and excited by this catastrophe, he entered on
910the explanation of a theory which he had formed on the subject of
911electricity and galvanism, which was at once new and astonishing to me.
912All that he said threw greatly into the shade Cornelius Agrippa,
913Albertus Magnus, and Paracelsus, the lords of my imagination; but by
914some fatality the overthrow of these men disinclined me to pursue my
915accustomed studies.  It seemed to me as if nothing would or could ever
916be known.  All that had so long engaged my attention suddenly grew
917despicable.  By one of those caprices of the mind which we are perhaps
918most subject to in early youth, I at once gave up my former
919occupations, set down natural history and all its progeny as a deformed
920and abortive creation, and entertained the greatest disdain for a
921would-be science which could never even step within the threshold of
922real knowledge.  In this mood of mind I betook myself to the
923mathematics and the branches of study appertaining to that science as
924being built upon secure foundations, and so worthy of my consideration.
925
926Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by such slight ligaments
927are we bound to prosperity or ruin.  When I look back, it seems to me
928as if this almost miraculous change of inclination and will was the
929immediate suggestion of the guardian angel of my life--the last effort
930made by the spirit of preservation to avert the storm that was even
931then hanging in the stars and ready to envelop me.  Her victory was
932announced by an unusual tranquillity and gladness of soul which
933followed the relinquishing of my ancient and latterly tormenting
934studies.  It was thus that I was to be taught to associate evil with
935their prosecution, happiness with their disregard.
936
937It was a strong effort of the spirit of good, but it was ineffectual.
938Destiny was too potent, and her immutable laws had decreed my utter and
939terrible destruction.
940
941
942
943Chapter 3
944
945When I had attained the age of seventeen my parents resolved that I
946should become a student at the university of Ingolstadt.  I had
947hitherto attended the schools of Geneva, but my father thought it
948necessary for the completion of my education that I should be made
949acquainted with other customs than those of my native country.  My
950departure was therefore fixed at an early date, but before the day
951resolved upon could arrive, the first misfortune of my life
952occurred--an omen, as it were, of my future misery.  Elizabeth had
953caught the scarlet fever; her illness was severe, and she was in the
954greatest danger.  During her illness many arguments had been urged to
955persuade my mother to refrain from attending upon her.  She had at
956first yielded to our entreaties, but when she heard that the life of
957her favourite was menaced, she could no longer control her anxiety. She
958attended her sickbed; her watchful attentions triumphed over the
959malignity of the distemper--Elizabeth was saved, but the consequences
960of this imprudence were fatal to her preserver.  On the third day my
961mother sickened; her fever was accompanied by the most alarming
962symptoms, and the looks of her medical attendants prognosticated the
963worst event.  On her deathbed the fortitude and benignity of this best
964of women did not desert her.  She joined the hands of Elizabeth and
965myself.  "My children," she said, "my firmest hopes of future happiness
966were placed on the prospect of your union.  This expectation will now
967be the consolation of your father.  Elizabeth, my love, you must supply
968my place to my younger children.  Alas!  I regret that I am taken from
969you; and, happy and beloved as I have been, is it not hard to quit you
970all?  But these are not thoughts befitting me; I will endeavour to
971resign myself cheerfully to death and will indulge a hope of meeting
972you in another world."
973
974She died calmly, and her countenance expressed affection even in death.
975I need not describe the feelings of those whose dearest ties are rent
976by that most irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to the
977soul, and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance.  It is so
978long before the mind can persuade itself that she whom we saw every day
979and whose very existence appeared a part of our own can have departed
980forever--that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been
981extinguished and the sound of a voice so familiar and dear to the ear
982can be hushed, never more to be heard.  These are the reflections of
983the first days; but when the lapse of time proves the reality of the
984evil, then the actual bitterness of grief commences.  Yet from whom has
985not that rude hand rent away some dear connection?  And why should I
986describe a sorrow which all have felt, and must feel?  The time at
987length arrives when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity; and
988the smile that plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed a
989sacrilege, is not banished.  My mother was dead, but we had still
990duties which we ought to perform; we must continue our course with the
991rest and learn to think ourselves fortunate whilst one remains whom the
992spoiler has not seized.
993
994My departure for Ingolstadt, which had been deferred by these events,
995was now again determined upon.  I obtained from my father a respite of
996some weeks.  It appeared to me sacrilege so soon to leave the repose,
997akin to death, of the house of mourning and to rush into the thick of
998life.  I was new to sorrow, but it did not the less alarm me.  I was
999unwilling to quit the sight of those that remained to me, and above
1000all, I desired to see my sweet Elizabeth in some degree consoled.
1001
1002She indeed veiled her grief and strove to act the comforter to us all.
1003She looked steadily on life and assumed its duties with courage and
1004zeal.  She devoted herself to those whom she had been taught to call
1005her uncle and cousins.  Never was she so enchanting as at this time,
1006when she recalled the sunshine of her smiles and spent them upon us.
1007She forgot even her own regret in her endeavours to make us forget.
1008
1009The day of my departure at length arrived.  Clerval spent the last
1010evening with us.  He had endeavoured to persuade his father to permit
1011him to accompany me and to become my fellow student, but in vain.  His
1012father was a narrow-minded trader and saw idleness and ruin in the
1013aspirations and ambition of his son.  Henry deeply felt the misfortune
1014of being debarred from a liberal education.  He said little, but when
1015he spoke I read in his kindling eye and in his animated glance a
1016restrained but firm resolve not to be chained to the miserable details
1017of commerce.
1018
1019We sat late.  We could not tear ourselves away from each other nor
1020persuade ourselves to say the word "Farewell!"  It was said, and we
1021retired under the pretence of seeking repose, each fancying that the
1022other was deceived; but when at morning's dawn I descended to the
1023carriage which was to convey me away, they were all there--my father
1024again to bless me, Clerval to press my hand once more, my Elizabeth to
1025renew her entreaties that I would write often and to bestow the last
1026feminine attentions on her playmate and friend.
1027
1028I threw myself into the chaise that was to convey me away and indulged
1029in the most melancholy reflections.  I, who had ever been surrounded by
1030amiable companions, continually engaged in endeavouring to bestow
1031mutual pleasure--I was now alone.  In the university whither I was
1032going I must form my own friends and be my own protector.  My life had
1033hitherto been remarkably secluded and domestic, and this had given me
1034invincible repugnance to new countenances.  I loved my brothers,
1035Elizabeth, and Clerval; these were "old familiar faces," but I believed
1036myself totally unfitted for the company of strangers.  Such were my
1037reflections as I commenced my journey; but as I proceeded, my spirits
1038and hopes rose.  I ardently desired the acquisition of knowledge.  I
1039had often, when at home, thought it hard to remain during my youth
1040cooped up in one place and had longed to enter the world and take my
1041station among other human beings.  Now my desires were complied with,
1042and it would, indeed, have been folly to repent.
1043
1044I had sufficient leisure for these and many other reflections during my
1045journey to Ingolstadt, which was long and fatiguing.  At length the
1046high white steeple of the town met my eyes.  I alighted and was
1047conducted to my solitary apartment to spend the evening as I pleased.
1048
1049The next morning I delivered my letters of introduction and paid a
1050visit to some of the principal professors.  Chance--or rather the evil
1051influence, the Angel of Destruction, which asserted omnipotent sway
1052over me from the moment I turned my reluctant steps from my father's
1053door--led me first to M. Krempe, professor of natural philosophy.  He
1054was an uncouth man, but deeply imbued in the secrets of his science. He
1055asked me several questions concerning my progress in the different
1056branches of science appertaining to natural philosophy.  I replied
1057carelessly, and partly in contempt, mentioned the names of my
1058alchemists as the principal authors I had studied.  The professor
1059stared.  "Have you," he said, "really spent your time in studying such
1060nonsense?"
1061
1062I replied in the affirmative.  "Every minute," continued M. Krempe with
1063warmth, "every instant that you have wasted on those books is utterly
1064and entirely lost.  You have burdened your memory with exploded systems
1065and useless names.  Good God!  In what desert land have you lived,
1066where no one was kind enough to inform you that these fancies which you
1067have so greedily imbibed are a thousand years old and as musty as they
1068are ancient?  I little expected, in this enlightened and scientific
1069age, to find a disciple of Albertus Magnus and Paracelsus.  My dear
1070sir, you must begin your studies entirely anew."
1071
1072So saying, he stepped aside and wrote down a list of several books
1073treating of natural philosophy which he desired me to procure, and
1074dismissed me after mentioning that in the beginning of the following
1075week he intended to commence a course of lectures upon natural
1076philosophy in its general relations, and that M. Waldman, a fellow
1077professor, would lecture upon chemistry the alternate days that he
1078omitted.
1079
1080I returned home not disappointed, for I have said that I had long
1081considered those authors useless whom the professor reprobated; but I
1082returned not at all the more inclined to recur to these studies in any
1083shape.  M. Krempe was a little squat man with a gruff voice and a
1084repulsive countenance; the teacher, therefore, did not prepossess me in
1085favour of his pursuits.  In rather a too philosophical and connected a
1086strain, perhaps, I have given an account of the conclusions I had come
1087to concerning them in my early years.  As a child I had not been
1088content with the results promised by the modern professors of natural
1089science.  With a confusion of ideas only to be accounted for by my
1090extreme youth and my want of a guide on such matters, I had retrod the
1091steps of knowledge along the paths of time and exchanged the
1092discoveries of recent inquirers for the dreams of forgotten alchemists.
1093Besides, I had a contempt for the uses of modern natural philosophy.
1094It was very different when the masters of the science sought
1095immortality and power; such views, although futile, were grand; but now
1096the scene was changed.  The ambition of the inquirer seemed to limit
1097itself to the annihilation of those visions on which my interest in
1098science was chiefly founded.  I was required to exchange chimeras of
1099boundless grandeur for realities of little worth.
1100
1101Such were my reflections during the first two or three days of my
1102residence at Ingolstadt, which were chiefly spent in becoming
1103acquainted with the localities and the principal residents in my new
1104abode.  But as the ensuing week commenced, I thought of the information
1105which M. Krempe had given me concerning the lectures.  And although I
1106could not consent to go and hear that little conceited fellow deliver
1107sentences out of a pulpit, I recollected what he had said of M.
1108Waldman, whom I had never seen, as he had hitherto been out of town.
1109
1110Partly from curiosity and partly from idleness, I went into the
1111lecturing room, which M. Waldman entered shortly after.  This professor
1112was very unlike his colleague.  He appeared about fifty years of age,
1113but with an aspect expressive of the greatest benevolence; a few grey
1114hairs covered his temples, but those at the back of his head were
1115nearly black.  His person was short but remarkably erect and his voice
1116the sweetest I had ever heard.  He began his lecture by a
1117recapitulation of the history of chemistry and the various improvements
1118made by different men of learning, pronouncing with fervour the names
1119of the most distinguished discoverers.  He then took a cursory view of
1120the present state of the science and explained many of its elementary
1121terms.  After having made a few preparatory experiments, he concluded
1122with a panegyric upon modern chemistry, the terms of which I shall
1123never forget:  "The ancient teachers of this science," said he,
1124"promised impossibilities and performed nothing.  The modern masters
1125promise very little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted and
1126that the elixir of life is a chimera but these philosophers, whose
1127hands seem only made to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pore over the
1128microscope or crucible, have indeed performed miracles.  They penetrate
1129into the recesses of nature and show how she works in her
1130hiding-places.  They ascend into the heavens; they have discovered how
1131the blood circulates, and the nature of the air we breathe.  They have
1132acquired new and almost unlimited powers; they can command the thunders
1133of heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with
1134its own shadows."
1135
1136Such were the professor's words--rather let me say such the words of
1137the fate--enounced to destroy me.  As he went on I felt as if my soul
1138were grappling with a palpable enemy; one by one the various keys were
1139touched which formed the mechanism of my being; chord after chord was
1140sounded, and soon my mind was filled with one thought, one conception,
1141one purpose.  So much has been done, exclaimed the soul of
1142Frankenstein--more, far more, will I achieve; treading in the steps
1143already marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and
1144unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation.
1145
1146I closed not my eyes that night.  My internal being was in a state of
1147insurrection and turmoil; I felt that order would thence arise, but I
1148had no power to produce it.  By degrees, after the morning's dawn,
1149sleep came.  I awoke, and my yesternight's thoughts were as a dream.
1150There only remained a resolution to return to my ancient studies and to
1151devote myself to a science for which I believed myself to possess a
1152natural talent.  On the same day I paid M. Waldman a visit.  His
1153manners in private were even more mild and attractive than in public,
1154for there was a certain dignity in his mien during his lecture which in
1155his own house was replaced by the greatest affability and kindness.  I
1156gave him pretty nearly the same account of my former pursuits as I had
1157given to his fellow professor.  He heard with attention the little
1158narration concerning my studies and smiled at the names of Cornelius
1159Agrippa and Paracelsus, but without the contempt that M. Krempe had
1160exhibited. He said that "These were men to whose indefatigable zeal
1161modern philosophers were indebted for most of the foundations of their
1162knowledge.  They had left to us, as an easier task, to give new names
1163and arrange in connected classifications the facts which they in a
1164great degree had been the instruments of bringing to light.  The
1165labours of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever
1166fail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind."  I
1167listened to his statement, which was delivered without any presumption
1168or affectation, and then added that his lecture had removed my
1169prejudices against modern chemists; I expressed myself in measured
1170terms, with the modesty and deference due from a youth to his
1171instructor, without letting escape (inexperience in life would have
1172made me ashamed) any of the enthusiasm which stimulated my intended
1173labours.  I requested his advice concerning the books I ought to
1174procure.
1175
1176"I am happy," said M. Waldman, "to have gained a disciple; and if your
1177application equals your ability, I have no doubt of your success.
1178Chemistry is that branch of natural philosophy in which the greatest
1179improvements have been and may be made; it is on that account that I
1180have made it my peculiar study; but at the same time, I have not
1181neglected the other branches of science.  A man would make but a very
1182sorry chemist if he attended to that department of human knowledge
1183alone.  If your wish is to become really a man of science and not
1184merely a petty experimentalist, I should advise you to apply to every
1185branch of natural philosophy, including mathematics."  He then took me
1186into his laboratory and explained to me the uses of his various
1187machines, instructing me as to what I ought to procure and promising me
1188the use of his own when I should have advanced far enough in the
1189science not to derange their mechanism.  He also gave me the list of
1190books which I had requested, and I took my leave.
1191
1192Thus ended a day memorable to me; it decided my future destiny.
1193
1194
1195
1196Chapter 4
1197
1198From this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, in the
1199most comprehensive sense of the term, became nearly my sole occupation.
1200I read with ardour those works, so full of genius and discrimination,
1201which modern inquirers have written on these subjects.  I attended the
1202lectures and cultivated the acquaintance of the men of science of the
1203university, and I found even in M. Krempe a great deal of sound sense
1204and real information, combined, it is true, with a repulsive
1205physiognomy and manners, but not on that account the less valuable.  In
1206M. Waldman I found a true friend.  His gentleness was never tinged by
1207dogmatism, and his instructions were given with an air of frankness and
1208good nature that banished every idea of pedantry.  In a thousand ways
1209he smoothed for me the path of knowledge and made the most abstruse
1210inquiries clear and facile to my apprehension.  My application was at
1211first fluctuating and uncertain; it gained strength as I proceeded and
1212soon became so ardent and eager that the stars often disappeared in the
1213light of morning whilst I was yet engaged in my laboratory.
1214
1215As I applied so closely, it may be easily conceived that my progress
1216was rapid.  My ardour was indeed the astonishment of the students, and
1217my proficiency that of the masters.  Professor Krempe often asked me,
1218with a sly smile, how Cornelius Agrippa went on, whilst M. Waldman
1219expressed the most heartfelt exultation in my progress.  Two years
1220passed in this manner, during which I paid no visit to Geneva, but was
1221engaged, heart and soul, in the pursuit of some discoveries which I
1222hoped to make.  None but those who have experienced them can conceive
1223of the enticements of science.  In other studies you go as far as
1224others have gone before you, and there is nothing more to know; but in
1225a scientific pursuit there is continual food for discovery and wonder.
1226A mind of moderate capacity which closely pursues one study must
1227infallibly arrive at great proficiency in that study; and I, who
1228continually sought the attainment of one object of pursuit and was
1229solely wrapped up in this, improved so rapidly that at the end of two
1230years I made some discoveries in the improvement of some chemical
1231instruments, which procured me great esteem and admiration at the
1232university.  When I had arrived at this point and had become as well
1233acquainted with the theory and practice of natural philosophy as
1234depended on the lessons of any of the professors at Ingolstadt, my
1235residence there being no longer conducive to my improvements, I thought
1236of returning to my friends and my native town, when an incident
1237happened that protracted my stay.
1238
1239One of the phenomena which had peculiarly attracted my attention was
1240the structure of the human frame, and, indeed, any animal endued with
1241life.  Whence, I often asked myself, did the principle of life proceed?
1242It was a bold question, and one which has ever been considered as a
1243mystery; yet with how many things are we upon the brink of becoming
1244acquainted, if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our
1245inquiries.  I revolved these circumstances in my mind and determined
1246thenceforth to apply myself more particularly to those branches of
1247natural philosophy which relate to physiology.  Unless I had been
1248animated by an almost supernatural enthusiasm, my application to this
1249study would have been irksome and almost intolerable.  To examine the
1250causes of life, we must first have recourse to death.  I became
1251acquainted with the science of anatomy, but this was not sufficient; I
1252must also observe the natural decay and corruption of the human body.
1253In my education my father had taken the greatest precautions that my
1254mind should be impressed with no supernatural horrors.  I do not ever
1255remember to have trembled at a tale of superstition or to have feared
1256the apparition of a spirit.  Darkness had no effect upon my fancy, and
1257a churchyard was to me merely the receptacle of bodies deprived of
1258life, which, from being the seat of beauty and strength, had become
1259food for the worm.  Now I was led to examine the cause and progress of
1260this decay and forced to spend days and nights in vaults and
1261charnel-houses.  My attention was fixed upon every object the most
1262insupportable to the delicacy of the human feelings.  I saw how the
1263fine form of man was degraded and wasted; I beheld the corruption of
1264death succeed to the blooming cheek of life; I saw how the worm
1265inherited the wonders of the eye and brain.  I paused, examining and
1266analysing all the minutiae of causation, as exemplified in the change
1267from life to death, and death to life, until from the midst of this
1268darkness a sudden light broke in upon me--a light so brilliant and
1269wondrous, yet so simple, that while I became dizzy with the immensity
1270of the prospect which it illustrated, I was surprised that among so
1271many men of genius who had directed their inquiries towards the same
1272science, that I alone should be reserved to discover so astonishing a
1273secret.
1274
1275Remember, I am not recording the vision of a madman.  The sun does not
1276more certainly shine in the heavens than that which I now affirm is
1277true.  Some miracle might have produced it, yet the stages of the
1278discovery were distinct and probable.  After days and nights of
1279incredible labour and fatigue, I succeeded in discovering the cause of
1280generation and life; nay, more, I became myself capable of bestowing
1281animation upon lifeless matter.
1282
1283The astonishment which I had at first experienced on this discovery
1284soon gave place to delight and rapture.  After so much time spent in
1285painful labour, to arrive at once at the summit of my desires was the
1286most gratifying consummation of my toils.  But this discovery was so
1287great and overwhelming that all the steps by which I had been
1288progressively led to it were obliterated, and I beheld only the result.
1289What had been the study and desire of the wisest men since the creation
1290of the world was now within my grasp.  Not that, like a magic scene, it
1291all opened upon me at once:  the information I had obtained was of a
1292nature rather to direct my endeavours so soon as I should point them
1293towards the object of my search than to exhibit that object already
1294accomplished.  I was like the Arabian who had been buried with the dead
1295and found a passage to life, aided only by one glimmering and seemingly
1296ineffectual light.
1297
1298I see by your eagerness and the wonder and hope which your eyes
1299express, my friend, that you expect to be informed of the secret with
1300which I am acquainted; that cannot be; listen patiently until the end
1301of my story, and you will easily perceive why I am reserved upon that
1302subject.  I will not lead you on, unguarded and ardent as I then was,
1303to your destruction and infallible misery.  Learn from me, if not by my
1304precepts, at least by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement of
1305knowledge and how much happier that man is who believes his native town
1306to be the world, than he who aspires to become greater than his nature
1307will allow.
1308
1309When I found so astonishing a power placed within my hands, I hesitated
1310a long time concerning the manner in which I should employ it.
1311Although I possessed the capacity of bestowing animation, yet to
1312prepare a frame for the reception of it, with all its intricacies of
1313fibres, muscles, and veins, still remained a work of inconceivable
1314difficulty and labour.  I doubted at first whether I should attempt the
1315creation of a being like myself, or one of simpler organization; but my
1316imagination was too much exalted by my first success to permit me to
1317doubt of my ability to give life to an animal as complex and wonderful
1318as man.  The materials at present within my command hardly appeared
1319adequate to so arduous an undertaking, but I doubted not that I should
1320ultimately succeed.  I prepared myself for a multitude of reverses; my
1321operations might be incessantly baffled, and at last my work be
1322imperfect, yet when I considered the improvement which every day takes
1323place in science and mechanics, I was encouraged to hope my present
1324attempts would at least lay the foundations of future success.  Nor
1325could I consider the magnitude and complexity of my plan as any
1326argument of its impracticability.  It was with these feelings that I
1327began the creation of a human being.  As the minuteness of the parts
1328formed a great hindrance to my speed, I resolved, contrary to my first
1329intention, to make the being of a gigantic stature, that is to say,
1330about eight feet in height, and proportionably large.  After having
1331formed this determination and having spent some months in successfully
1332collecting and arranging my materials, I began.
1333
1334No one can conceive the variety of feelings which bore me onwards, like
1335a hurricane, in the first enthusiasm of success.  Life and death
1336appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and
1337pour a torrent of light into our dark world.  A new species would bless
1338me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would
1339owe their being to me.  No father could claim the gratitude of his
1340child so completely as I should deserve theirs.  Pursuing these
1341reflections, I thought that if I could bestow animation upon lifeless
1342matter, I might in process of time (although I now found it impossible)
1343renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to corruption.
1344
1345These thoughts supported my spirits, while I pursued my undertaking
1346with unremitting ardour.  My cheek had grown pale with study, and my
1347person had become emaciated with confinement.  Sometimes, on the very
1348brink of certainty, I failed; yet still I clung to the hope which the
1349next day or the next hour might realize.  One secret which I alone
1350possessed was the hope to which I had dedicated myself; and the moon
1351gazed on my midnight labours, while, with unrelaxed and breathless
1352eagerness, I pursued nature to her hiding-places.  Who shall conceive
1353the horrors of my secret toil as I dabbled among the unhallowed damps
1354of the grave or tortured the living animal to animate the lifeless
1355clay?  My limbs now tremble, and my eyes swim with the remembrance; but
1356then a resistless and almost frantic impulse urged me forward; I seemed
1357to have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit.  It was
1358indeed but a passing trance, that only made me feel with renewed
1359acuteness so soon as, the unnatural stimulus ceasing to operate, I had
1360returned to my old habits.  I collected bones from charnel-houses and
1361disturbed, with profane fingers, the tremendous secrets of the human
1362frame.  In a solitary chamber, or rather cell, at the top of the house,
1363and separated from all the other apartments by a gallery and staircase,
1364I kept my workshop of filthy creation; my eyeballs were starting from
1365their sockets in attending to the details of my employment.  The
1366dissecting room and the slaughter-house furnished many of my materials;
1367and often did my human nature turn with loathing from my occupation,
1368whilst, still urged on by an eagerness which perpetually increased, I
1369brought my work near to a conclusion.
1370
1371The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in
1372one pursuit.  It was a most beautiful season; never did the fields
1373bestow a more plentiful harvest or the vines yield a more luxuriant
1374vintage, but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.  And the
1375same feelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me also
1376to forget those friends who were so many miles absent, and whom I had
1377not seen for so long a time.  I knew my silence disquieted them, and I
1378well remembered the words of my father:  "I know that while you are
1379pleased with yourself you will think of us with affection, and we shall
1380hear regularly from you.  You must pardon me if I regard any
1381interruption in your correspondence as a proof that your other duties
1382are equally neglected."
1383
1384I knew well therefore what would be my father's feelings, but I could
1385not tear my thoughts from my employment, loathsome in itself, but which
1386had taken an irresistible hold of my imagination.  I wished, as it
1387were, to procrastinate all that related to my feelings of affection
1388until the great object, which swallowed up every habit of my nature,
1389should be completed.
1390
1391I then thought that my father would be unjust if he ascribed my neglect
1392to vice or faultiness on my part, but I am now convinced that he was
1393justified in conceiving that I should not be altogether free from
1394blame.  A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and
1395peaceful mind and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to
1396disturb his tranquillity.  I do not think that the pursuit of knowledge
1397is an exception to this rule.  If the study to which you apply yourself
1398has a tendency to weaken your affections and to destroy your taste for
1399those simple pleasures in which no alloy can possibly mix, then that
1400study is certainly unlawful, that is to say, not befitting the human
1401mind.  If this rule were always observed; if no man allowed any pursuit
1402whatsoever to interfere with the tranquillity of his domestic
1403affections, Greece had not been enslaved, Caesar would have spared his
1404country, America would have been discovered more gradually, and the
1405empires of Mexico and Peru had not been destroyed.
1406
1407But I forget that I am moralizing in the most interesting part of my
1408tale, and your looks remind me to proceed.  My father made no reproach
1409in his letters and only took notice of my silence by inquiring into my
1410occupations more particularly than before.  Winter, spring, and summer
1411passed away during my labours; but I did not watch the blossom or the
1412expanding leaves--sights which before always yielded me supreme
1413delight--so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation.  The leaves of
1414that year had withered before my work drew near to a close, and now
1415every day showed me more plainly how well I had succeeded.  But my
1416enthusiasm was checked by my anxiety, and I appeared rather like one
1417doomed by slavery to toil in the mines, or any other unwholesome trade
1418than an artist occupied by his favourite employment.  Every night I was
1419oppressed by a slow fever, and I became nervous to a most painful
1420degree; the fall of a leaf startled me, and I shunned my fellow
1421creatures as if I had been guilty of a crime.  Sometimes I grew alarmed
1422at the wreck I perceived that I had become; the energy of my purpose
1423alone sustained me:  my labours would soon end, and I believed that
1424exercise and amusement would then drive away incipient disease; and I
1425promised myself both of these when my creation should be complete.
1426
1427
1428
1429Chapter 5
1430
1431It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment
1432of my toils.  With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I
1433collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a
1434spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet.  It was
1435already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the
1436panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the
1437half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature
1438open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.
1439
1440How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate
1441the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to
1442form?  His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as
1443beautiful.  Beautiful!  Great God!  His yellow skin scarcely covered
1444the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous
1445black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these
1446luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes,
1447that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which
1448they were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips.
1449
1450The different accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelings
1451of human nature.  I had worked hard for nearly two years, for the sole
1452purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body.  For this I had
1453deprived myself of rest and health.  I had desired it with an ardour
1454that far exceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beauty
1455of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my
1456heart.  Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I
1457rushed out of the room and continued a long time traversing my
1458bed-chamber, unable to compose my mind to sleep.  At length lassitude
1459succeeded to the tumult I had before endured, and I threw myself on the
1460bed in my clothes, endeavouring to seek a few moments of forgetfulness.
1461But it was in vain; I slept, indeed, but I was disturbed by the wildest
1462dreams.  I thought I saw Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking in
1463the streets of Ingolstadt.  Delighted and surprised, I embraced her,
1464but as I imprinted the first kiss on her lips, they became livid with
1465the hue of death; her features appeared to change, and I thought that I
1466held the corpse of my dead mother in my arms; a shroud enveloped her
1467form, and I saw the grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel.
1468I started from my sleep with horror; a cold dew covered my forehead, my
1469teeth chattered, and every limb became convulsed; when, by the dim and
1470yellow light of the moon, as it forced its way through the window
1471shutters, I beheld the wretch--the miserable monster whom I had
1472created.  He held up the curtain of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes they
1473may be called, were fixed on me.  His jaws opened, and he muttered some
1474inarticulate sounds, while a grin wrinkled his cheeks.  He might have
1475spoken, but I did not hear; one hand was stretched out, seemingly to
1476detain me, but I escaped and rushed downstairs.  I took refuge in the
1477courtyard belonging to the house which I inhabited, where I remained
1478during the rest of the night, walking up and down in the greatest
1479agitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound as if
1480it were to announce the approach of the demoniacal corpse to which I
1481had so miserably given life.
1482
1483Oh!  No mortal could support the horror of that countenance.  A mummy
1484again endued with animation could not be so hideous as that wretch.  I
1485had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then, but when those
1486muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing
1487such as even Dante could not have conceived.
1488
1489I passed the night wretchedly.  Sometimes my pulse beat so quickly and
1490hardly that I felt the palpitation of every artery; at others, I nearly
1491sank to the ground through languor and extreme weakness.  Mingled with
1492this horror, I felt the bitterness of disappointment; dreams that had
1493been my food and pleasant rest for so long a space were now become a
1494hell to me; and the change was so rapid, the overthrow so complete!
1495
1496Morning, dismal and wet, at length dawned and discovered to my
1497sleepless and aching eyes the church of Ingolstadt, its white steeple
1498and clock, which indicated the sixth hour.  The porter opened the gates
1499of the court, which had that night been my asylum, and I issued into
1500the streets, pacing them with quick steps, as if I sought to avoid the
1501wretch whom I feared every turning of the street would present to my
1502view.  I did not dare return to the apartment which I inhabited, but
1503felt impelled to hurry on, although drenched by the rain which poured
1504from a black and comfortless sky.
1505
1506I continued walking in this manner for some time, endeavouring by
1507bodily exercise to ease the load that weighed upon my mind.  I
1508traversed the streets without any clear conception of where I was or
1509what I was doing.  My heart palpitated in the sickness of fear, and I
1510hurried on with irregular steps, not daring to look about me:
1511
1512
1513  Like one who, on a lonely road,
1514  Doth walk in fear and dread,
1515  And, having once turned round, walks on,
1516  And turns no more his head;
1517  Because he knows a frightful fiend
1518  Doth close behind him tread.
1519
1520  [Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner."]
1521
1522
1523Continuing thus, I came at length opposite to the inn at which the
1524various diligences and carriages usually stopped.  Here I paused, I
1525knew not why; but I remained some minutes with my eyes fixed on a coach
1526that was coming towards me from the other end of the street.  As it
1527drew nearer I observed that it was the Swiss diligence; it stopped just
1528where I was standing, and on the door being opened, I perceived Henry
1529Clerval, who, on seeing me, instantly sprung out.  "My dear
1530Frankenstein," exclaimed he, "how glad I am to see you!  How fortunate
1531that you should be here at the very moment of my alighting!"
1532
1533Nothing could equal my delight on seeing Clerval; his presence brought
1534back to my thoughts my father, Elizabeth, and all those scenes of home
1535so dear to my recollection.  I grasped his hand, and in a moment forgot
1536my horror and misfortune; I felt suddenly, and for the first time
1537during many months, calm and serene joy.  I welcomed my friend,
1538therefore, in the most cordial manner, and we walked towards my
1539college.  Clerval continued talking for some time about our mutual
1540friends and his own good fortune in being permitted to come to
1541Ingolstadt.  "You may easily believe," said he, "how great was the
1542difficulty to persuade my father that all necessary knowledge was not
1543comprised in the noble art of book-keeping; and, indeed, I believe I
1544left him incredulous to the last, for his constant answer to my
1545unwearied entreaties was the same as that of the Dutch schoolmaster in
1546The Vicar of Wakefield:  'I have ten thousand florins a year without
1547Greek, I eat heartily without Greek.'  But his affection for me at
1548length overcame his dislike of learning, and he has permitted me to
1549undertake a voyage of discovery to the land of knowledge."
1550
1551"It gives me the greatest delight to see you; but tell me how you left
1552my father, brothers, and Elizabeth."
1553
1554"Very well, and very happy, only a little uneasy that they hear from
1555you so seldom.  By the by, I mean to lecture you a little upon their
1556account myself.  But, my dear Frankenstein," continued he, stopping
1557short and gazing full in my face, "I did not before remark how very ill
1558you appear; so thin and pale; you look as if you had been watching for
1559several nights."
1560
1561"You have guessed right; I have lately been so deeply engaged in one
1562occupation that I have not allowed myself sufficient rest, as you see;
1563but I hope, I sincerely hope, that all these employments are now at an
1564end and that I am at length free."
1565
1566I trembled excessively; I could not endure to think of, and far less to
1567allude to, the occurrences of the preceding night.  I walked with a
1568quick pace, and we soon arrived at my college.  I then reflected, and
1569the thought made me shiver, that the creature whom I had left in my
1570apartment might still be there, alive and walking about.  I dreaded to
1571behold this monster, but I feared still more that Henry should see him.
1572Entreating him, therefore, to remain a few minutes at the bottom of the
1573stairs, I darted up towards my own room.  My hand was already on the
1574lock of the door before I recollected myself.  I then paused, and a
1575cold shivering came over me.  I threw the door forcibly open, as
1576children are accustomed to do when they expect a spectre to stand in
1577waiting for them on the other side; but nothing appeared.  I stepped
1578fearfully in:  the apartment was empty, and my bedroom was also freed
1579from its hideous guest.  I could hardly believe that so great a good
1580fortune could have befallen me, but when I became assured that my enemy
1581had indeed fled, I clapped my hands for joy and ran down to Clerval.
1582
1583We ascended into my room, and the servant presently brought breakfast;
1584but I was unable to contain myself.  It was not joy only that possessed
1585me; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulse
1586beat rapidly.  I was unable to remain for a single instant in the same
1587place; I jumped over the chairs, clapped my hands, and laughed aloud.
1588Clerval at first attributed my unusual spirits to joy on his arrival,
1589but when he observed me more attentively, he saw a wildness in my eyes
1590for which he could not account, and my loud, unrestrained, heartless
1591laughter frightened and astonished him.
1592
1593"My dear Victor," cried he, "what, for God's sake, is the matter?  Do
1594not laugh in that manner.  How ill you are!  What is the cause of all
1595this?"
1596
1597"Do not ask me," cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for I
1598thought I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; "HE can tell.
1599Oh, save me!  Save me!"  I imagined that the monster seized me; I
1600struggled furiously and fell down in a fit.
1601
1602Poor Clerval!  What must have been his feelings?  A meeting, which he
1603anticipated with such joy, so strangely turned to bitterness.  But I
1604was not the witness of his grief, for I was lifeless and did not
1605recover my senses for a long, long time.
1606
1607This was the commencement of a nervous fever which confined me for
1608several months.  During all that time Henry was my only nurse.  I
1609afterwards learned that, knowing my father's advanced age and unfitness
1610for so long a journey, and how wretched my sickness would make
1611Elizabeth, he spared them this grief by concealing the extent of my
1612disorder.  He knew that I could not have a more kind and attentive
1613nurse than himself; and, firm in the hope he felt of my recovery, he
1614did not doubt that, instead of doing harm, he performed the kindest
1615action that he could towards them.
1616
1617But I was in reality very ill, and surely nothing but the unbounded and
1618unremitting attentions of my friend could have restored me to life.
1619The form of the monster on whom I had bestowed existence was forever
1620before my eyes, and I raved incessantly concerning him.  Doubtless my
1621words surprised Henry; he at first believed them to be the wanderings
1622of my disturbed imagination, but the pertinacity with which I
1623continually recurred to the same subject persuaded him that my disorder
1624indeed owed its origin to some uncommon and terrible event.
1625
1626By very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses that alarmed and
1627grieved my friend, I recovered.  I remember the first time I became
1628capable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure, I
1629perceived that the fallen leaves had disappeared and that the young
1630buds were shooting forth from the trees that shaded my window.  It was
1631a divine spring, and the season contributed greatly to my
1632convalescence.  I felt also sentiments of joy and affection revive in
1633my bosom; my gloom disappeared, and in a short time I became as
1634cheerful as before I was attacked by the fatal passion.
1635
1636"Dearest Clerval," exclaimed I, "how kind, how very good you are to me.
1637This whole winter, instead of being spent in study, as you promised
1638yourself, has been consumed in my sick room.  How shall I ever repay
1639you?  I feel the greatest remorse for the disappointment of which I
1640have been the occasion, but you will forgive me."
1641
1642"You will repay me entirely if you do not discompose yourself, but get
1643well as fast as you can; and since you appear in such good spirits, I
1644may speak to you on one subject, may I not?"
1645
1646I trembled.  One subject!  What could it be?  Could he allude to an
1647object on whom I dared not even think?  "Compose yourself," said
1648Clerval, who observed my change of colour, "I will not mention it if it
1649agitates you; but your father and cousin would be very happy if they
1650received a letter from you in your own handwriting.  They hardly know
1651how ill you have been and are uneasy at your long silence."
1652
1653"Is that all, my dear Henry?  How could you suppose that my first
1654thought would not fly towards those dear, dear friends whom I love and
1655who are so deserving of my love?"
1656
1657"If this is your present temper, my friend, you will perhaps be glad to
1658see a letter that has been lying here some days for you; it is from
1659your cousin, I believe."
1660
1661
1662
1663Chapter 6
1664
1665Clerval then put the following letter into my hands.  It was from my
1666own Elizabeth:
1667
1668"My dearest Cousin,
1669
1670"You have been ill, very ill, and even the constant letters of dear
1671kind Henry are not sufficient to reassure me on your account.  You are
1672forbidden to write--to hold a pen; yet one word from you, dear Victor,
1673is necessary to calm our apprehensions.  For a long time I have thought
1674that each post would bring this line, and my persuasions have
1675restrained my uncle from undertaking a journey to Ingolstadt.  I have
1676prevented his encountering the inconveniences and perhaps dangers of so
1677long a journey, yet how often have I regretted not being able to
1678perform it myself!  I figure to myself that the task of attending on
1679your sickbed has devolved on some mercenary old nurse, who could never
1680guess your wishes nor minister to them with the care and affection of
1681your poor cousin.  Yet that is over now:  Clerval writes that indeed
1682you are getting better.  I eagerly hope that you will confirm this
1683intelligence soon in your own handwriting.
1684
1685"Get well--and return to us.  You will find a happy, cheerful home and
1686friends who love you dearly.  Your father's health is vigorous, and he
1687asks but to see you, but to be assured that you are well; and not a
1688care will ever cloud his benevolent countenance.  How pleased you would
1689be to remark the improvement of our Ernest!  He is now sixteen and full
1690of activity and spirit.  He is desirous to be a true Swiss and to enter
1691into foreign service, but we cannot part with him, at least until his
1692elder brother returns to us.  My uncle is not pleased with the idea of
1693a military career in a distant country, but Ernest never had your
1694powers of application.  He looks upon study as an odious fetter; his
1695time is spent in the open air, climbing the hills or rowing on the
1696lake.  I fear that he will become an idler unless we yield the point
1697and permit him to enter on the profession which he has selected.
1698
1699"Little alteration, except the growth of our dear children, has taken
1700place since you left us.  The blue lake and snow-clad mountains--they
1701never change; and I think our placid home and our contented hearts are
1702regulated by the same immutable laws.  My trifling occupations take up
1703my time and amuse me, and I am rewarded for any exertions by seeing
1704none but happy, kind faces around me.  Since you left us, but one
1705change has taken place in our little household.  Do you remember on
1706what occasion Justine Moritz entered our family?  Probably you do not;
1707I will relate her history, therefore in a few words.  Madame Moritz,
1708her mother, was a widow with four children, of whom Justine was the
1709third.  This girl had always been the favourite of her father, but
1710through a strange perversity, her mother could not endure her, and
1711after the death of M. Moritz, treated her very ill.  My aunt observed
1712this, and when Justine was twelve years of age, prevailed on her mother
1713to allow her to live at our house.  The republican institutions of our
1714country have produced simpler and happier manners than those which
1715prevail in the great monarchies that surround it.  Hence there is less
1716distinction between the several classes of its inhabitants; and the
1717lower orders, being neither so poor nor so despised, their manners are
1718more refined and moral.  A servant in Geneva does not mean the same
1719thing as a servant in France and England.  Justine, thus received in
1720our family, learned the duties of a servant, a condition which, in our
1721fortunate country, does not include the idea of ignorance and a
1722sacrifice of the dignity of a human being.
1723
1724"Justine, you may remember, was a great favourite of yours; and I
1725recollect you once remarked that if you were in an ill humour, one
1726glance from Justine could dissipate it, for the same reason that
1727Ariosto gives concerning the beauty of Angelica--she looked so
1728frank-hearted and happy.  My aunt conceived a great attachment for her,
1729by which she was induced to give her an education superior to that
1730which she had at first intended.  This benefit was fully repaid;
1731Justine was the most grateful little creature in the world:  I do not
1732mean that she made any professions I never heard one pass her lips, but
1733you could see by her eyes that she almost adored her protectress.
1734Although her disposition was gay and in many respects inconsiderate,
1735yet she paid the greatest attention to every gesture of my aunt.  She
1736thought her the model of all excellence and endeavoured to imitate her
1737phraseology and manners, so that even now she often reminds me of her.
1738
1739"When my dearest aunt died every one was too much occupied in their own
1740grief to notice poor Justine, who had attended her during her illness
1741with the most anxious affection.  Poor Justine was very ill; but other
1742trials were reserved for her.
1743
1744"One by one, her brothers and sister died; and her mother, with the
1745exception of her neglected daughter, was left childless.  The
1746conscience of the woman was troubled; she began to think that the
1747deaths of her favourites was a judgement from heaven to chastise her
1748partiality.  She was a Roman Catholic; and I believe her confessor
1749confirmed the idea which she had conceived.  Accordingly, a few months
1750after your departure for Ingolstadt, Justine was called home by her
1751repentant mother.  Poor girl!  She wept when she quitted our house; she
1752was much altered since the death of my aunt; grief had given softness
1753and a winning mildness to her manners, which had before been remarkable
1754for vivacity.  Nor was her residence at her mother's house of a nature
1755to restore her gaiety.  The poor woman was very vacillating in her
1756repentance.  She sometimes begged Justine to forgive her unkindness,
1757but much oftener accused her of having caused the deaths of her
1758brothers and sister.  Perpetual fretting at length threw Madame Moritz
1759into a decline, which at first increased her irritability, but she is
1760now at peace for ever.  She died on the first approach of cold weather,
1761at the beginning of this last winter.  Justine has just returned to us;
1762and I assure you I love her tenderly.  She is very clever and gentle,
1763and extremely pretty; as I mentioned before, her mien and her
1764expression continually remind me of my dear aunt.
1765
1766"I must say also a few words to you, my dear cousin, of little darling
1767William.  I wish you could see him; he is very tall of his age, with
1768sweet laughing blue eyes, dark eyelashes, and curling hair.  When he
1769smiles, two little dimples appear on each cheek, which are rosy with
1770health.  He has already had one or two little WIVES, but Louisa Biron
1771is his favourite, a pretty little girl of five years of age.
1772
1773"Now, dear Victor, I dare say you wish to be indulged in a little
1774gossip concerning the good people of Geneva.  The pretty Miss Mansfield
1775has already received the congratulatory visits on her approaching
1776marriage with a young Englishman, John Melbourne, Esq.  Her ugly
1777sister, Manon, married M. Duvillard, the rich banker, last autumn. Your
1778favourite schoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunes
1779since the departure of Clerval from Geneva.  But he has already
1780recovered his spirits, and is reported to be on the point of marrying a
1781lively pretty Frenchwoman, Madame Tavernier.  She is a widow, and much
1782older than Manoir; but she is very much admired, and a favourite with
1783everybody.
1784
1785"I have written myself into better spirits, dear cousin; but my anxiety
1786returns upon me as I conclude.  Write, dearest Victor,--one line--one
1787word will be a blessing to us.  Ten thousand thanks to Henry for his
1788kindness, his affection, and his many letters; we are sincerely
1789grateful.  Adieu!  my cousin; take care of your self; and, I entreat
1790you, write!
1791
1792"Elizabeth Lavenza.
1793
1794"Geneva, March 18, 17--."
1795
1796
1797"Dear, dear Elizabeth!" I exclaimed, when I had read her letter:  "I
1798will write instantly and relieve them from the anxiety they must feel."
1799I wrote, and this exertion greatly fatigued me; but my convalescence
1800had commenced, and proceeded regularly.  In another fortnight I was
1801able to leave my chamber.
1802
1803One of my first duties on my recovery was to introduce Clerval to the
1804several professors of the university.  In doing this, I underwent a
1805kind of rough usage, ill befitting the wounds that my mind had
1806sustained.  Ever since the fatal night, the end of my labours, and the
1807beginning of my misfortunes, I had conceived a violent antipathy even
1808to the name of natural philosophy.  When I was otherwise quite restored
1809to health, the sight of a chemical instrument would renew all the agony
1810of my nervous symptoms.  Henry saw this, and had removed all my
1811apparatus from my view.  He had also changed my apartment; for he
1812perceived that I had acquired a dislike for the room which had
1813previously been my laboratory.  But these cares of Clerval were made of
1814no avail when I visited the professors.  M. Waldman inflicted torture
1815when he praised, with kindness and warmth, the astonishing progress I
1816had made in the sciences.  He soon perceived that I disliked the
1817subject; but not guessing the real cause, he attributed my feelings to
1818modesty, and changed the subject from my improvement, to the science
1819itself, with a desire, as I evidently saw, of drawing me out.  What
1820could I do?  He meant to please, and he tormented me.  I felt as if he
1821had placed carefully, one by one, in my view those instruments which
1822were to be afterwards used in putting me to a slow and cruel death.  I
1823writhed under his words, yet dared not exhibit the pain I felt.
1824Clerval, whose eyes and feelings were always quick in discerning the
1825sensations of others, declined the subject, alleging, in excuse, his
1826total ignorance; and the conversation took a more general turn.  I
1827thanked my friend from my heart, but I did not speak.  I saw plainly
1828that he was surprised, but he never attempted to draw my secret from
1829me; and although I loved him with a mixture of affection and reverence
1830that knew no bounds, yet I could never persuade myself to confide in
1831him that event which was so often present to my recollection, but which
1832I feared the detail to another would only impress more deeply.
1833
1834M. Krempe was not equally docile; and in my condition at that time, of
1835almost insupportable sensitiveness, his harsh blunt encomiums gave me
1836even more pain than the benevolent approbation of M. Waldman.  "D--n
1837the fellow!" cried he; "why, M. Clerval, I assure you he has outstript
1838us all.  Ay, stare if you please; but it is nevertheless true.  A
1839youngster who, but a few years ago, believed in Cornelius Agrippa as
1840firmly as in the gospel, has now set himself at the head of the
1841university; and if he is not soon pulled down, we shall all be out of
1842countenance.--Ay, ay," continued he, observing my face expressive of
1843suffering, "M. Frankenstein is modest; an excellent quality in a young
1844man.  Young men should be diffident of themselves, you know, M.
1845Clerval:  I was myself when young; but that wears out in a very short
1846time."
1847
1848M. Krempe had now commenced an eulogy on himself, which happily turned
1849the conversation from a subject that was so annoying to me.
1850
1851Clerval had never sympathized in my tastes for natural science; and his
1852literary pursuits differed wholly from those which had occupied me.  He
1853came to the university with the design of making himself complete
1854master of the oriental languages, and thus he should open a field for
1855the plan of life he had marked out for himself.  Resolved to pursue no
1856inglorious career, he turned his eyes toward the East, as affording
1857scope for his spirit of enterprise.  The Persian, Arabic, and Sanskrit
1858languages engaged his attention, and I was easily induced to enter on
1859the same studies.  Idleness had ever been irksome to me, and now that I
1860wished to fly from reflection, and hated my former studies, I felt
1861great relief in being the fellow-pupil with my friend, and found not
1862only instruction but consolation in the works of the orientalists.  I
1863did not, like him, attempt a critical knowledge of their dialects, for
1864I did not contemplate making any other use of them than temporary
1865amusement.  I read merely to understand their meaning, and they well
1866repaid my labours.  Their melancholy is soothing, and their joy
1867elevating, to a degree I never experienced in studying the authors of
1868any other country.  When you read their writings, life appears to
1869consist in a warm sun and a garden of roses,--in the smiles and frowns
1870of a fair enemy, and the fire that consumes your own heart.  How
1871different from the manly and heroical poetry of Greece and Rome!
1872
1873Summer passed away in these occupations, and my return to Geneva was
1874fixed for the latter end of autumn; but being delayed by several
1875accidents, winter and snow arrived, the roads were deemed impassable,
1876and my journey was retarded until the ensuing spring.  I felt this
1877delay very bitterly; for I longed to see my native town and my beloved
1878friends.  My return had only been delayed so long, from an
1879unwillingness to leave Clerval in a strange place, before he had become
1880acquainted with any of its inhabitants.  The winter, however, was spent
1881cheerfully; and although the spring was uncommonly late, when it came
1882its beauty compensated for its dilatoriness.
1883
1884The month of May had already commenced, and I expected the letter daily
1885which was to fix the date of my departure, when Henry proposed a
1886pedestrian tour in the environs of Ingolstadt, that I might bid a
1887personal farewell to the country I had so long inhabited.  I acceded
1888with pleasure to this proposition:  I was fond of exercise, and Clerval
1889had always been my favourite companion in the ramble of this nature
1890that I had taken among the scenes of my native country.
1891
1892We passed a fortnight in these perambulations:  my health and spirits
1893had long been restored, and they gained additional strength from the
1894salubrious air I breathed, the natural incidents of our progress, and
1895the conversation of my friend.  Study had before secluded me from the
1896intercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me unsocial; but
1897Clerval called forth the better feelings of my heart; he again taught
1898me to love the aspect of nature, and the cheerful faces of children.
1899Excellent friend!  how sincerely you did love me, and endeavour to
1900elevate my mind until it was on a level with your own.  A selfish
1901pursuit had cramped and narrowed me, until your gentleness and
1902affection warmed and opened my senses; I became the same happy creature
1903who, a few years ago, loved and beloved by all, had no sorrow or care.
1904When happy, inanimate nature had the power of bestowing on me the most
1905delightful sensations.  A serene sky and verdant fields filled me with
1906ecstasy.  The present season was indeed divine; the flowers of spring
1907bloomed in the hedges, while those of summer were already in bud.  I
1908was undisturbed by thoughts which during the preceding year had pressed
1909upon me, notwithstanding my endeavours to throw them off, with an
1910invincible burden.
1911
1912Henry rejoiced in my gaiety, and sincerely sympathised in my feelings:
1913he exerted himself to amuse me, while he expressed the sensations that
1914filled his soul.  The resources of his mind on this occasion were truly
1915astonishing:  his conversation was full of imagination; and very often,
1916in imitation of the Persian and Arabic writers, he invented tales of
1917wonderful fancy and passion.  At other times he repeated my favourite
1918poems, or drew me out into arguments, which he supported with great
1919ingenuity.  We returned to our college on a Sunday afternoon:  the
1920peasants were dancing, and every one we met appeared gay and happy.  My
1921own spirits were high, and I bounded along with feelings of unbridled
1922joy and hilarity.
1923
1924
1925
1926Chapter 7
1927
1928On my return, I found the following letter from my father:--
1929
1930
1931"My dear Victor,
1932
1933"You have probably waited impatiently for a letter to fix the date of
1934your return to us; and I was at first tempted to write only a few
1935lines, merely mentioning the day on which I should expect you.  But
1936that would be a cruel kindness, and I dare not do it.  What would be
1937your surprise, my son, when you expected a happy and glad welcome, to
1938behold, on the contrary, tears and wretchedness?  And how, Victor, can
1939I relate our misfortune?  Absence cannot have rendered you callous to
1940our joys and griefs; and how shall I inflict pain on my long absent
1941son?  I wish to prepare you for the woeful news, but I know it is
1942impossible; even now your eye skims over the page to seek the words
1943which are to convey to you the horrible tidings.
1944
1945"William is dead!--that sweet child, whose smiles delighted and warmed
1946my heart, who was so gentle, yet so gay!  Victor, he is murdered!
1947
1948"I will not attempt to console you; but will simply relate the
1949circumstances of the transaction.
1950
1951"Last Thursday (May 7th), I, my niece, and your two brothers, went to
1952walk in Plainpalais.  The evening was warm and serene, and we prolonged
1953our walk farther than usual.  It was already dusk before we thought of
1954returning; and then we discovered that William and Ernest, who had gone
1955on before, were not to be found.  We accordingly rested on a seat until
1956they should return.  Presently Ernest came, and enquired if we had seen
1957his brother; he said, that he had been playing with him, that William
1958had run away to hide himself, and that he vainly sought for him, and
1959afterwards waited for a long time, but that he did not return.
1960
1961"This account rather alarmed us, and we continued to search for him
1962until night fell, when Elizabeth conjectured that he might have
1963returned to the house.  He was not there.  We returned again, with
1964torches; for I could not rest, when I thought that my sweet boy had
1965lost himself, and was exposed to all the damps and dews of night;
1966Elizabeth also suffered extreme anguish.  About five in the morning I
1967discovered my lovely boy, whom the night before I had seen blooming and
1968active in health, stretched on the grass livid and motionless; the
1969print of the murder's finger was on his neck.
1970
1971"He was conveyed home, and the anguish that was visible in my
1972countenance betrayed the secret to Elizabeth.  She was very earnest to
1973see the corpse.  At first I attempted to prevent her but she persisted,
1974and entering the room where it lay, hastily examined the neck of the
1975victim, and clasping her hands exclaimed, 'O God!  I have murdered my
1976darling child!'
1977
1978"She fainted, and was restored with extreme difficulty.  When she again
1979lived, it was only to weep and sigh.  She told me, that that same
1980evening William had teased her to let him wear a very valuable
1981miniature that she possessed of your mother.  This picture is gone, and
1982was doubtless the temptation which urged the murderer to the deed.  We
1983have no trace of him at present, although our exertions to discover him
1984are unremitted; but they will not restore my beloved William!
1985
1986"Come, dearest Victor; you alone can console Elizabeth.  She weeps
1987continually, and accuses herself unjustly as the cause of his death;
1988her words pierce my heart.  We are all unhappy; but will not that be an
1989additional motive for you, my son, to return and be our comforter?
1990Your dear mother!  Alas, Victor!  I now say, Thank God she did not live
1991to witness the cruel, miserable death of her youngest darling!
1992
1993"Come, Victor; not brooding thoughts of vengeance against the assassin,
1994but with feelings of peace and gentleness, that will heal, instead of
1995festering, the wounds of our minds.  Enter the house of mourning, my
1996friend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you, and not
1997with hatred for your enemies.
1998
1999               "Your affectionate and afflicted father,
2000                              "Alphonse Frankenstein.
2001
2002
2003
2004"Geneva, May 12th, 17--."
2005
2006Clerval, who had watched my countenance as I read this letter, was
2007surprised to observe the despair that succeeded the joy I at first
2008expressed on receiving new from my friends.  I threw the letter on the
2009table, and covered my face with my hands.
2010
2011"My dear Frankenstein," exclaimed Henry, when he perceived me weep with
2012bitterness, "are you always to be unhappy?  My dear friend, what has
2013happened?"
2014
2015I motioned him to take up the letter, while I walked up and down the
2016room in the extremest agitation.  Tears also gushed from the eyes of
2017Clerval, as he read the account of my misfortune.
2018
2019"I can offer you no consolation, my friend," said he; "your disaster is
2020irreparable.  What do you intend to do?"
2021
2022"To go instantly to Geneva: come with me, Henry, to order the horses."
2023
2024During our walk, Clerval endeavoured to say a few words of consolation;
2025he could only express his heartfelt sympathy.  "Poor William!" said he,
2026"dear lovely child, he now sleeps with his angel mother!  Who that had
2027seen him bright and joyous in his young beauty, but must weep over his
2028untimely loss!  To die so miserably; to feel the murderer's grasp!  How
2029much more a murdered that could destroy radiant innocence!  Poor little
2030fellow! one only consolation have we; his friends mourn and weep, but
2031he is at rest. The pang is over, his sufferings are at an end for ever.
2032A sod covers his gentle form, and he knows no pain.  He can no longer
2033be a subject for pity; we must reserve that for his miserable
2034survivors."
2035
2036Clerval spoke thus as we hurried through the streets; the words
2037impressed themselves on my mind and I remembered them afterwards in
2038solitude.  But now, as soon as the horses arrived, I hurried into a
2039cabriolet, and bade farewell to my friend.
2040
2041My journey was very melancholy.  At first I wished to hurry on, for I
2042longed to console and sympathise with my loved and sorrowing friends;
2043but when I drew near my native town, I slackened my progress.  I could
2044hardly sustain the multitude of feelings that crowded into my mind.  I
2045passed through scenes familiar to my youth, but which I had not seen
2046for nearly six years.  How altered every thing might be during that
2047time!  One sudden and desolating change had taken place; but a thousand
2048little circumstances might have by degrees worked other alterations,
2049which, although they were done more tranquilly, might not be the less
2050decisive.  Fear overcame me; I dared no advance, dreading a thousand
2051nameless evils that made me tremble, although I was unable to define
2052them.  I remained two days at Lausanne, in this painful state of mind.
2053I contemplated the lake:  the waters were placid; all around was calm;
2054and the snowy mountains, 'the palaces of nature,' were not changed.  By
2055degrees the calm and heavenly scene restored me, and I continued my
2056journey towards Geneva.
2057
2058The road ran by the side of the lake, which became narrower as I
2059approached my native town.  I discovered more distinctly the black
2060sides of Jura, and the bright summit of Mont Blanc.  I wept like a
2061child.  "Dear mountains! my own beautiful lake! how do you welcome your
2062wanderer?  Your summits are clear; the sky and lake are blue and
2063placid.  Is this to prognosticate peace, or to mock at my unhappiness?"
2064
2065I fear, my friend, that I shall render myself tedious by dwelling on
2066these preliminary circumstances; but they were days of comparative
2067happiness, and I think of them with pleasure.  My country, my beloved
2068country! who but a native can tell the delight I took in again
2069beholding thy streams, thy mountains, and, more than all, thy lovely
2070lake!
2071
2072Yet, as I drew nearer home, grief and fear again overcame me.  Night
2073also closed around; and when I could hardly see the dark mountains, I
2074felt still more gloomily.  The picture appeared a vast and dim scene of
2075evil, and I foresaw obscurely that I was destined to become the most
2076wretched of human beings.  Alas!  I prophesied truly, and failed only
2077in one single circumstance, that in all the misery I imagined and
2078dreaded, I did not conceive the hundredth part of the anguish I was
2079destined to endure.  It was completely dark when I arrived in the
2080environs of Geneva; the gates of the town were already shut; and I was
2081obliged to pass the night at Secheron, a village at the distance of
2082half a league from the city.  The sky was serene; and, as I was unable
2083to rest, I resolved to visit the spot where my poor William had been
2084murdered.  As I could not pass through the town, I was obliged to cross
2085the lake in a boat to arrive at Plainpalais.  During this short voyage
2086I saw the lightning playing on the summit of Mont Blanc in the most
2087beautiful figures.  The storm appeared to approach rapidly, and, on
2088landing, I ascended a low hill, that I might observe its progress.  It
2089advanced; the heavens were clouded, and I soon felt the rain coming
2090slowly in large drops, but its violence quickly increased.
2091
2092I quitted my seat, and walked on, although the darkness and storm
2093increased every minute, and the thunder burst with a terrific crash
2094over my head.  It was echoed from Saleve, the Juras, and the Alps of
2095Savoy; vivid flashes of lightning dazzled my eyes, illuminating the
2096lake, making it appear like a vast sheet of fire; then for an instant
2097every thing seemed of a pitchy darkness, until the eye recovered itself
2098from the preceding flash.  The storm, as is often the case in
2099Switzerland, appeared at once in various parts of the heavens.  The
2100most violent storm hung exactly north of the town, over the part of the
2101lake which lies between the promontory of Belrive and the village of
2102Copet.  Another storm enlightened Jura with faint flashes; and another
2103darkened and sometimes disclosed the Mole, a peaked mountain to the
2104east of the lake.
2105
2106While I watched the tempest, so beautiful yet terrific, I wandered on
2107with a hasty step.  This noble war in the sky elevated my spirits; I
2108clasped my hands, and exclaimed aloud, "William, dear angel! this is
2109thy funeral, this thy dirge!" As I said these words, I perceived in the
2110gloom a figure which stole from behind a clump of trees near me; I
2111stood fixed, gazing intently:  I could not be mistaken.  A flash of
2112lightning illuminated the object, and discovered its shape plainly to
2113me; its gigantic stature, and the deformity of its aspect more hideous
2114than belongs to humanity, instantly informed me that it was the wretch,
2115the filthy daemon, to whom I had given life.  What did he there?  Could
2116he be (I shuddered at the conception) the murderer of my brother?  No
2117sooner did that idea cross my imagination, than I became convinced of
2118its truth; my teeth chattered, and I was forced to lean against a tree
2119for support.  The figure passed me quickly, and I lost it in the gloom.
2120
2121Nothing in human shape could have destroyed the fair child.  HE was the
2122murderer!  I could not doubt it.  The mere presence of the idea was an
2123irresistible proof of the fact.  I thought of pursuing the devil; but
2124it would have been in vain, for another flash discovered him to me
2125hanging among the rocks of the nearly perpendicular ascent of Mont
2126Saleve, a hill that bounds Plainpalais on the south.  He soon reached
2127the summit, and disappeared.
2128
2129I remained motionless.  The thunder ceased; but the rain still
2130continued, and the scene was enveloped in an impenetrable darkness.  I
2131revolved in my mind the events which I had until now sought to forget:
2132the whole train of my progress toward the creation; the appearance of
2133the works of my own hands at my bedside; its departure.  Two years had
2134now nearly elapsed since the night on which he first received life; and
2135was this his first crime?  Alas!  I had turned loose into the world a
2136depraved wretch, whose delight was in carnage and misery; had he not
2137murdered my brother?
2138
2139No one can conceive the anguish I suffered during the remainder of the
2140night, which I spent, cold and wet, in the open air.  But I did not
2141feel the inconvenience of the weather; my imagination was busy in
2142scenes of evil and despair.  I considered the being whom I had cast
2143among mankind, and endowed with the will and power to effect purposes
2144of horror, such as the deed which he had now done, nearly in the light
2145of my own vampire, my own spirit let loose from the grave, and forced
2146to destroy all that was dear to me.
2147
2148Day dawned; and I directed my steps towards the town.  The gates were
2149open, and I hastened to my father's house.  My first thought was to
2150discover what I knew of the murderer, and cause instant pursuit to be
2151made.  But I paused when I reflected on the story that I had to tell. A
2152being whom I myself had formed, and endued with life, had met me at
2153midnight among the precipices of an inaccessible mountain.  I
2154remembered also the nervous fever with which I had been seized just at
2155the time that I dated my creation, and which would give an air of
2156delirium to a tale otherwise so utterly improbable.  I well knew that
2157if any other had communicated such a relation to me, I should have
2158looked upon it as the ravings of insanity.  Besides, the strange nature
2159of the animal would elude all pursuit, even if I were so far credited
2160as to persuade my relatives to commence it.  And then of what use would
2161be pursuit?  Who could arrest a creature capable of scaling the
2162overhanging sides of Mont Saleve?  These reflections determined me, and
2163I resolved to remain silent.
2164
2165It was about five in the morning when I entered my father's house.  I
2166told the servants not to disturb the family, and went into the library
2167to attend their usual hour of rising.
2168
2169Six years had elapsed, passed in a dream but for one indelible trace,
2170and I stood in the same place where I had last embraced my father
2171before my departure for Ingolstadt.  Beloved and venerable parent!  He
2172still remained to me.  I gazed on the picture of my mother, which stood
2173over the mantel-piece.  It was an historical subject, painted at my
2174father's desire, and represented Caroline Beaufort in an agony of
2175despair, kneeling by the coffin of her dead father.  Her garb was
2176rustic, and her cheek pale; but there was an air of dignity and beauty,
2177that hardly permitted the sentiment of pity.  Below this picture was a
2178miniature of William; and my tears flowed when I looked upon it.  While
2179I was thus engaged, Ernest entered:  he had heard me arrive, and
2180hastened to welcome me:  "Welcome, my dearest Victor," said he.  "Ah! I
2181wish you had come three months ago, and then you would have found us
2182all joyous and delighted.  You come to us now to share a misery which
2183nothing can alleviate; yet your presence will, I hope, revive our
2184father, who seems sinking under his misfortune; and your persuasions
2185will induce poor Elizabeth to cease her vain and tormenting
2186self-accusations.--Poor William! he was our darling and our pride!"
2187
2188Tears, unrestrained, fell from my brother's eyes; a sense of mortal
2189agony crept over my frame.  Before, I had only imagined the
2190wretchedness of my desolated home; the reality came on me as a new, and
2191a not less terrible, disaster.  I tried to calm Ernest; I enquired more
2192minutely concerning my father, and here I named my cousin.
2193
2194"She most of all," said Ernest, "requires consolation; she accused
2195herself of having caused the death of my brother, and that made her
2196very wretched.  But since the murderer has been discovered--"
2197
2198"The murderer discovered!  Good God! how can that be? who could attempt
2199to pursue him?  It is impossible; one might as well try to overtake the
2200winds, or confine a mountain-stream with a straw.  I saw him too; he
2201was free last night!"
2202
2203"I do not know what you mean," replied my brother, in accents of
2204wonder, "but to us the discovery we have made completes our misery.  No
2205one would believe it at first; and even now Elizabeth will not be
2206convinced, notwithstanding all the evidence.  Indeed, who would credit
2207that Justine Moritz, who was so amiable, and fond of all the family,
2208could suddenly become so capable of so frightful, so appalling a crime?"
2209
2210"Justine Moritz!  Poor, poor girl, is she the accused?  But it is
2211wrongfully; every one knows that; no one believes it, surely, Ernest?"
2212
2213"No one did at first; but several circumstances came out, that have
2214almost forced conviction upon us; and her own behaviour has been so
2215confused, as to add to the evidence of facts a weight that, I fear,
2216leaves no hope for doubt.  But she will be tried today, and you will
2217then hear all."
2218
2219He then related that, the morning on which the murder of poor William
2220had been discovered, Justine had been taken ill, and confined to her
2221bed for several days.  During this interval, one of the servants,
2222happening to examine the apparel she had worn on the night of the
2223murder, had discovered in her pocket the picture of my mother, which
2224had been judged to be the temptation of the murderer.  The servant
2225instantly showed it to one of the others, who, without saying a word to
2226any of the family, went to a magistrate; and, upon their deposition,
2227Justine was apprehended.  On being charged with the fact, the poor girl
2228confirmed the suspicion in a great measure by her extreme confusion of
2229manner.
2230
2231This was a strange tale, but it did not shake my faith; and I replied
2232earnestly, "You are all mistaken; I know the murderer.  Justine, poor,
2233good Justine, is innocent."
2234
2235At that instant my father entered.  I saw unhappiness deeply impressed
2236on his countenance, but he endeavoured to welcome me cheerfully; and,
2237after we had exchanged our mournful greeting, would have introduced
2238some other topic than that of our disaster, had not Ernest exclaimed,
2239"Good God, papa!  Victor says that he knows who was the murderer of
2240poor William."
2241
2242"We do also, unfortunately," replied my father, "for indeed I had
2243rather have been for ever ignorant than have discovered so much
2244depravity and ungratitude in one I valued so highly."
2245
2246"My dear father, you are mistaken; Justine is innocent."
2247
2248"If she is, God forbid that she should suffer as guilty.  She is to be
2249tried today, and I hope, I sincerely hope, that she will be acquitted."
2250
2251This speech calmed me.  I was firmly convinced in my own mind that
2252Justine, and indeed every human being, was guiltless of this murder.  I
2253had no fear, therefore, that any circumstantial evidence could be
2254brought forward strong enough to convict her.  My tale was not one to
2255announce publicly; its astounding horror would be looked upon as
2256madness by the vulgar.  Did any one indeed exist, except I, the
2257creator, who would believe, unless his senses convinced him, in the
2258existence of the living monument of presumption and rash ignorance
2259which I had let loose upon the world?
2260
2261We were soon joined by Elizabeth.  Time had altered her since I last
2262beheld her; it had endowed her with loveliness surpassing the beauty of
2263her childish years.  There was the same candour, the same vivacity, but
2264it was allied to an expression more full of sensibility and intellect.
2265She welcomed me with the greatest affection.  "Your arrival, my dear
2266cousin," said she, "fills me with hope.  You perhaps will find some
2267means to justify my poor guiltless Justine.  Alas! who is safe, if she
2268be convicted of crime?  I rely on her innocence as certainly as I do
2269upon my own.  Our misfortune is doubly hard to us; we have not only
2270lost that lovely darling boy, but this poor girl, whom I sincerely
2271love, is to be torn away by even a worse fate.  If she is condemned, I
2272never shall know joy more.  But she will not, I am sure she will not;
2273and then I shall be happy again, even after the sad death of my little
2274William."
2275
2276"She is innocent, my Elizabeth," said I, "and that shall be proved;
2277fear nothing, but let your spirits be cheered by the assurance of her
2278acquittal."
2279
2280"How kind and generous you are! every one else believes in her guilt,
2281and that made me wretched, for I knew that it was impossible:  and to
2282see every one else prejudiced in so deadly a manner rendered me
2283hopeless and despairing."  She wept.
2284
2285"Dearest niece," said my father, "dry your tears.  If she is, as you
2286believe, innocent, rely on the justice of our laws, and the activity
2287with which I shall prevent the slightest shadow of partiality."
2288
2289
2290
2291Chapter 8
2292
2293We passed a few sad hours until eleven o'clock, when the trial was to
2294commence.  My father and the rest of the family being obliged to attend
2295as witnesses, I accompanied them to the court.  During the whole of
2296this wretched mockery of justice I suffered living torture.  It was to
2297be decided whether the result of my curiosity and lawless devices would
2298cause the death of two of my fellow beings:  one a smiling babe full of
2299innocence and joy, the other far more dreadfully murdered, with every
2300aggravation of infamy that could make the murder memorable in horror.
2301Justine also was a girl of merit and possessed qualities which promised
2302to render her life happy; now all was to be obliterated in an
2303ignominious grave, and I the cause!  A thousand times rather would I
2304have confessed myself guilty of the crime ascribed to Justine, but I
2305was absent when it was committed, and such a declaration would have
2306been considered as the ravings of a madman and would not have
2307exculpated her who suffered through me.
2308
2309The appearance of Justine was calm.  She was dressed in mourning, and
2310her countenance, always engaging, was rendered, by the solemnity of her
2311feelings, exquisitely beautiful.  Yet she appeared confident in
2312innocence and did not tremble, although gazed on and execrated by
2313thousands, for all the kindness which her beauty might otherwise have
2314excited was obliterated in the minds of the spectators by the
2315imagination of the enormity she was supposed to have committed.  She
2316was tranquil, yet her tranquillity was evidently constrained; and as
2317her confusion had before been adduced as a proof of her guilt, she
2318worked up her mind to an appearance of courage.  When she entered the
2319court she threw her eyes round it and quickly discovered where we were
2320seated.  A tear seemed to dim her eye when she saw us, but she quickly
2321recovered herself, and a look of sorrowful affection seemed to attest
2322her utter guiltlessness.
2323
2324The trial began, and after the advocate against her had stated the
2325charge, several witnesses were called.  Several strange facts combined
2326against her, which might have staggered anyone who had not such proof
2327of her innocence as I had.  She had been out the whole of the night on
2328which the murder had been committed and towards morning had been
2329perceived by a market-woman not far from the spot where the body of the
2330murdered child had been afterwards found.  The woman asked her what she
2331did there, but she looked very strangely and only returned a confused
2332and unintelligible answer.  She returned to the house about eight
2333o'clock, and when one inquired where she had passed the night, she
2334replied that she had been looking for the child and demanded earnestly
2335if anything had been heard concerning him.  When shown the body, she
2336fell into violent hysterics and kept her bed for several days.  The
2337picture was then produced which the servant had found in her pocket;
2338and when Elizabeth, in a faltering voice, proved that it was the same
2339which, an hour before the child had been missed, she had placed round
2340his neck, a murmur of horror and indignation filled the court.
2341
2342Justine was called on for her defence.  As the trial had proceeded, her
2343countenance had altered.  Surprise, horror, and misery were strongly
2344expressed.  Sometimes she struggled with her tears, but when she was
2345desired to plead, she collected her powers and spoke in an audible
2346although variable voice.
2347
2348"God knows," she said, "how entirely I am innocent.  But I do not
2349pretend that my protestations should acquit me; I rest my innocence on
2350a plain and simple explanation of the facts which have been adduced
2351against me, and I hope the character I have always borne will incline
2352my judges to a favourable interpretation where any circumstance appears
2353doubtful or suspicious."
2354
2355She then related that, by the permission of Elizabeth, she had passed
2356the evening of the night on which the murder had been committed at the
2357house of an aunt at Chene, a village situated at about a league from
2358Geneva.  On her return, at about nine o'clock, she met a man who asked
2359her if she had seen anything of the child who was lost.  She was
2360alarmed by this account and passed several hours in looking for him,
2361when the gates of Geneva were shut, and she was forced to remain
2362several hours of the night in a barn belonging to a cottage, being
2363unwilling to call up the inhabitants, to whom she was well known.  Most
2364of the night she spent here watching; towards morning she believed that
2365she slept for a few minutes; some steps disturbed her, and she awoke.
2366It was dawn, and she quitted her asylum, that she might again endeavour
2367to find my brother.  If she had gone near the spot where his body lay,
2368it was without her knowledge.  That she had been bewildered when
2369questioned by the market-woman was not surprising, since she had passed
2370a sleepless night and the fate of poor William was yet uncertain.
2371Concerning the picture she could give no account.
2372
2373"I know," continued the unhappy victim, "how heavily and fatally this
2374one circumstance weighs against me, but I have no power of explaining
2375it; and when I have expressed my utter ignorance, I am only left to
2376conjecture concerning the probabilities by which it might have been
2377placed in my pocket.  But here also I am checked.  I believe that I
2378have no enemy on earth, and none surely would have been so wicked as to
2379destroy me wantonly.  Did the murderer place it there?  I know of no
2380opportunity afforded him for so doing; or, if I had, why should he have
2381stolen the jewel, to part with it again so soon?
2382
2383"I commit my cause to the justice of my judges, yet I see no room for
2384hope.  I beg permission to have a few witnesses examined concerning my
2385character, and if their testimony shall not overweigh my supposed
2386guilt, I must be condemned, although I would pledge my salvation on my
2387innocence."
2388
2389Several witnesses were called who had known her for many years, and
2390they spoke well of her; but fear and hatred of the crime of which they
2391supposed her guilty rendered them timorous and unwilling to come
2392forward.  Elizabeth saw even this last resource, her excellent
2393dispositions and irreproachable conduct, about to fail the accused,
2394when, although violently agitated, she desired permission to address
2395the court.
2396
2397"I am," said she, "the cousin of the unhappy child who was murdered, or
2398rather his sister, for I was educated by and have lived with his
2399parents ever since and even long before his birth.  It may therefore be
2400judged indecent in me to come forward on this occasion, but when I see
2401a fellow creature about to perish through the cowardice of her
2402pretended friends, I wish to be allowed to speak, that I may say what I
2403know of her character.  I am well acquainted with the accused.  I have
2404lived in the same house with her, at one time for five and at another
2405for nearly two years.  During all that period she appeared to me the
2406most amiable and benevolent of human creatures.  She nursed Madame
2407Frankenstein, my aunt, in her last illness, with the greatest affection
2408and care and afterwards attended her own mother during a tedious
2409illness, in a manner that excited the admiration of all who knew her,
2410after which she again lived in my uncle's house, where she was beloved
2411by all the family.  She was warmly attached to the child who is now
2412dead and acted towards him like a most affectionate mother.  For my own
2413part, I do not hesitate to say that, notwithstanding all the evidence
2414produced against her, I believe and rely on her perfect innocence.  She
2415had no temptation for such an action; as to the bauble on which the
2416chief proof rests, if she had earnestly desired it, I should have
2417willingly given it to her, so much do I esteem and value her."
2418
2419A murmur of approbation followed Elizabeth's simple and powerful
2420appeal, but it was excited by her generous interference, and not in
2421favour of poor Justine, on whom the public indignation was turned with
2422renewed violence, charging her with the blackest ingratitude.  She
2423herself wept as Elizabeth spoke, but she did not answer.  My own
2424agitation and anguish was extreme during the whole trial.  I believed
2425in her innocence; I knew it.  Could the demon who had (I did not for a
2426minute doubt) murdered my brother also in his hellish sport have
2427betrayed the innocent to death and ignominy?  I could not sustain the
2428horror of my situation, and when I perceived that the popular voice and
2429the countenances of the judges had already condemned my unhappy victim,
2430I rushed out of the court in agony.  The tortures of the accused did
2431not equal mine; she was sustained by innocence, but the fangs of
2432remorse tore my bosom and would not forgo their hold.
2433
2434I passed a night of unmingled wretchedness.  In the morning I went to
2435the court; my lips and throat were parched.  I dared not ask the fatal
2436question, but I was known, and the officer guessed the cause of my
2437visit.  The ballots had been thrown; they were all black, and Justine
2438was condemned.
2439
2440I cannot pretend to describe what I then felt.  I had before
2441experienced sensations of horror, and I have endeavoured to bestow upon
2442them adequate expressions, but words cannot convey an idea of the
2443heart-sickening despair that I then endured.  The person to whom I
2444addressed myself added that Justine had already confessed her guilt.
2445"That evidence," he observed, "was hardly required in so glaring a
2446case, but I am glad of it, and, indeed, none of our judges like to
2447condemn a criminal upon circumstantial evidence, be it ever so
2448decisive."
2449
2450This was strange and unexpected intelligence; what could it mean?  Had
2451my eyes deceived me?  And was I really as mad as the whole world would
2452believe me to be if I disclosed the object of my suspicions?  I
2453hastened to return home, and Elizabeth eagerly demanded the result.
2454
2455"My cousin," replied I, "it is decided as you may have expected; all
2456judges had rather that ten innocent should suffer than that one guilty
2457should escape.  But she has confessed."
2458
2459This was a dire blow to poor Elizabeth, who had relied with firmness
2460upon Justine's innocence.  "Alas!" said she.  "How shall I ever again
2461believe in human goodness?  Justine, whom I loved and esteemed as my
2462sister, how could she put on those smiles of innocence only to betray?
2463Her mild eyes seemed incapable of any severity or guile, and yet she
2464has committed a murder."
2465
2466Soon after we heard that the poor victim had expressed a desire to see
2467my cousin.  My father wished her not to go but said that he left it to
2468her own judgment and feelings to decide.  "Yes," said Elizabeth, "I
2469will go, although she is guilty; and you, Victor, shall accompany me; I
2470cannot go alone."  The idea of this visit was torture to me, yet I
2471could not refuse.  We entered the gloomy prison chamber and beheld
2472Justine sitting on some straw at the farther end; her hands were
2473manacled, and her head rested on her knees.  She rose on seeing us
2474enter, and when we were left alone with her, she threw herself at the
2475feet of Elizabeth, weeping bitterly.  My cousin wept also.
2476
2477"Oh, Justine!" said she.  "Why did you rob me of my last consolation?
2478I relied on your innocence, and although I was then very wretched, I
2479was not so miserable as I am now."
2480
2481"And do you also believe that I am so very, very wicked?  Do you also
2482join with my enemies to crush me, to condemn me as a murderer?" Her
2483voice was suffocated with sobs.
2484
2485"Rise, my poor girl," said Elizabeth; "why do you kneel, if you are
2486innocent?  I am not one of your enemies, I believed you guiltless,
2487notwithstanding every evidence, until I heard that you had yourself
2488declared your guilt.  That report, you say, is false; and be assured,
2489dear Justine, that nothing can shake my confidence in you for a moment,
2490but your own confession."
2491
2492"I did confess, but I confessed a lie.  I confessed, that I might
2493obtain absolution; but now that falsehood lies heavier at my heart than
2494all my other sins.  The God of heaven forgive me!  Ever since I was
2495condemned, my confessor has besieged me; he threatened and menaced,
2496until I almost began to think that I was the monster that he said I
2497was.  He threatened excommunication and hell fire in my last moments if
2498I continued obdurate.  Dear lady, I had none to support me; all looked
2499on me as a wretch doomed to ignominy and perdition.  What could I do?
2500In an evil hour I subscribed to a lie; and now only am I truly
2501miserable."
2502
2503She paused, weeping, and then continued, "I thought with horror, my
2504sweet lady, that you should believe your Justine, whom your blessed
2505aunt had so highly honoured, and whom you loved, was a creature capable
2506of a crime which none but the devil himself could have perpetrated.
2507Dear William! dearest blessed child!  I soon shall see you again in
2508heaven, where we shall all be happy; and that consoles me, going as I
2509am to suffer ignominy and death."
2510
2511"Oh, Justine!  Forgive me for having for one moment distrusted you.
2512Why did you confess?  But do not mourn, dear girl.  Do not fear.  I
2513will proclaim, I will prove your innocence.  I will melt the stony
2514hearts of your enemies by my tears and prayers.  You shall not die!
2515You, my playfellow, my companion, my sister, perish on the scaffold!
2516No!  No!  I never could survive so horrible a misfortune."
2517
2518Justine shook her head mournfully.  "I do not fear to die," she said;
2519"that pang is past.  God raises my weakness and gives me courage to
2520endure the worst.  I leave a sad and bitter world; and if you remember
2521me and think of me as of one unjustly condemned, I am resigned to the
2522fate awaiting me.  Learn from me, dear lady, to submit in patience to
2523the will of heaven!"
2524
2525During this conversation I had retired to a corner of the prison room,
2526where I could conceal the horrid anguish that possessed me.  Despair!
2527Who dared talk of that?  The poor victim, who on the morrow was to pass
2528the awful boundary between life and death, felt not, as I did, such
2529deep and bitter agony.  I gnashed my teeth and ground them together,
2530uttering a groan that came from my inmost soul.  Justine started.  When
2531she saw who it was, she approached me and said, "Dear sir, you are very
2532kind to visit me; you, I hope, do not believe that I am guilty?"
2533
2534I could not answer.  "No, Justine," said Elizabeth; "he is more
2535convinced of your innocence than I was, for even when he heard that you
2536had confessed, he did not credit it."
2537
2538"I truly thank him.  In these last moments I feel the sincerest
2539gratitude towards those who think of me with kindness.  How sweet is
2540the affection of others to such a wretch as I am!  It removes more than
2541half my misfortune, and I feel as if I could die in peace now that my
2542innocence is acknowledged by you, dear lady, and your cousin."
2543
2544Thus the poor sufferer tried to comfort others and herself.  She indeed
2545gained the resignation she desired.  But I, the true murderer, felt the
2546never-dying worm alive in my bosom, which allowed of no hope or
2547consolation.  Elizabeth also wept and was unhappy, but hers also was
2548the misery of innocence, which, like a cloud that passes over the fair
2549moon, for a while hides but cannot tarnish its brightness.  Anguish and
2550despair had penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell within
2551me which nothing could extinguish.  We stayed several hours with
2552Justine, and it was with great difficulty that Elizabeth could tear
2553herself away.  "I wish," cried she, "that I were to die with you; I
2554cannot live in this world of misery."
2555
2556Justine assumed an air of cheerfulness, while she with difficulty
2557repressed her bitter tears.  She embraced Elizabeth and said in a voice
2558of half-suppressed emotion, "Farewell, sweet lady, dearest Elizabeth,
2559my beloved and only friend; may heaven, in its bounty, bless and
2560preserve you; may this be the last misfortune that you will ever
2561suffer!  Live, and be happy, and make others so."
2562
2563And on the morrow Justine died.  Elizabeth's heart-rending eloquence
2564failed to move the judges from their settled conviction in the
2565criminality of the saintly sufferer.  My passionate and indignant
2566appeals were lost upon them.  And when I received their cold answers
2567and heard the harsh, unfeeling reasoning of these men, my purposed
2568avowal died away on my lips.  Thus I might proclaim myself a madman,
2569but not revoke the sentence passed upon my wretched victim.  She
2570perished on the scaffold as a murderess!
2571
2572From the tortures of my own heart, I turned to contemplate the deep and
2573voiceless grief of my Elizabeth.  This also was my doing!  And my
2574father's woe, and the desolation of that late so smiling home all was
2575the work of my thrice-accursed hands!  Ye weep, unhappy ones, but these
2576are not your last tears!  Again shall you raise the funeral wail, and
2577the sound of your lamentations shall again and again be heard!
2578Frankenstein, your son, your kinsman, your early, much-loved friend; he
2579who would spend each vital drop of blood for your sakes, who has no
2580thought nor sense of joy except as it is mirrored also in your dear
2581countenances, who would fill the air with blessings and spend his life
2582in serving you--he bids you weep, to shed countless tears; happy beyond
2583his hopes, if thus inexorable fate be satisfied, and if the destruction
2584pause before the peace of the grave have succeeded to your sad torments!
2585
2586Thus spoke my prophetic soul, as, torn by remorse, horror, and despair,
2587I beheld those I loved spend vain sorrow upon the graves of William and
2588Justine, the first hapless victims to my unhallowed arts.
2589
2590
2591
2592Chapter 9
2593
2594Nothing is more painful to the human mind than, after the feelings have
2595been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of
2596inaction and certainty which follows and deprives the soul both of hope
2597and fear.  Justine died, she rested, and I was alive.  The blood flowed
2598freely in my veins, but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my
2599heart which nothing could remove.  Sleep fled from my eyes; I wandered
2600like an evil spirit, for I had committed deeds of mischief beyond
2601description horrible, and more, much more (I persuaded myself) was yet
2602behind.  Yet my heart overflowed with kindness and the love of virtue.
2603I had begun life with benevolent intentions and thirsted for the moment
2604when I should put them in practice and make myself useful to my fellow
2605beings.  Now all was blasted; instead of that serenity of conscience
2606which allowed me to look back upon the past with self-satisfaction, and
2607from thence to gather promise of new hopes, I was seized by remorse and
2608the sense of guilt, which hurried me away to a hell of intense tortures
2609such as no language can describe.
2610
2611This state of mind preyed upon my health, which had perhaps never
2612entirely recovered from the first shock it had sustained.  I shunned
2613the face of man; all sound of joy or complacency was torture to me;
2614solitude was my only consolation--deep, dark, deathlike solitude.
2615
2616My father observed with pain the alteration perceptible in my
2617disposition and habits and endeavoured by arguments deduced from the
2618feelings of his serene conscience and guiltless life to inspire me with
2619fortitude and awaken in me the courage to dispel the dark cloud which
2620brooded over me.  "Do you think, Victor," said he, "that I do not
2621suffer also?  No one could love a child more than I loved your
2622brother"--tears came into his eyes as he spoke--"but is it not a duty
2623to the survivors that we should refrain from augmenting their
2624unhappiness by an appearance of immoderate grief?  It is also a duty
2625owed to yourself, for excessive sorrow prevents improvement or
2626enjoyment, or even the discharge of daily usefulness, without which no
2627man is fit for society."
2628
2629This advice, although good, was totally inapplicable to my case; I
2630should have been the first to hide my grief and console my friends if
2631remorse had not mingled its bitterness, and terror its alarm, with my
2632other sensations.  Now I could only answer my father with a look of
2633despair and endeavour to hide myself from his view.
2634
2635About this time we retired to our house at Belrive.  This change was
2636particularly agreeable to me.  The shutting of the gates regularly at
2637ten o'clock and the impossibility of remaining on the lake after that
2638hour had rendered our residence within the walls of Geneva very irksome
2639to me.  I was now free.  Often, after the rest of the family had
2640retired for the night, I took the boat and passed many hours upon the
2641water.  Sometimes, with my sails set, I was carried by the wind; and
2642sometimes, after rowing into the middle of the lake, I left the boat to
2643pursue its own course and gave way to my own miserable reflections.  I
2644was often tempted, when all was at peace around me, and I the only
2645unquiet thing that wandered restless in a scene so beautiful and
2646heavenly--if I except some bat, or the frogs, whose harsh and
2647interrupted croaking was heard only when I approached the shore--often,
2648I say, I was tempted to plunge into the silent lake, that the waters
2649might close over me and my calamities forever.  But I was restrained,
2650when I thought of the heroic and suffering Elizabeth, whom I tenderly
2651loved, and whose existence was bound up in mine.  I thought also of my
2652father and surviving brother; should I by my base desertion leave them
2653exposed and unprotected to the malice of the fiend whom I had let loose
2654among them?
2655
2656At these moments I wept bitterly and wished that peace would revisit my
2657mind only that I might afford them consolation and happiness.  But that
2658could not be.  Remorse extinguished every hope.  I had been the author
2659of unalterable evils, and I lived in daily fear lest the monster whom I
2660had created should perpetrate some new wickedness.  I had an obscure
2661feeling that all was not over and that he would still commit some
2662signal crime, which by its enormity should almost efface the
2663recollection of the past.  There was always scope for fear so long as
2664anything I loved remained behind.  My abhorrence of this fiend cannot
2665be conceived.  When I thought of him I gnashed my teeth, my eyes became
2666inflamed, and I ardently wished to extinguish that life which I had so
2667thoughtlessly bestowed.  When I reflected on his crimes and malice, my
2668hatred and revenge burst all bounds of moderation.  I would have made a
2669pilgrimage to the highest peak of the Andes, could I when there have
2670precipitated him to their base.  I wished to see him again, that I
2671might wreak the utmost extent of abhorrence on his head and avenge the
2672deaths of William and Justine.  Our house was the house of mourning. My
2673father's health was deeply shaken by the horror of the recent events.
2674Elizabeth was sad and desponding; she no longer took delight in her
2675ordinary occupations; all pleasure seemed to her sacrilege toward the
2676dead; eternal woe and tears she then thought was the just tribute she
2677should pay to innocence so blasted and destroyed.  She was no longer
2678that happy creature who in earlier youth wandered with me on the banks
2679of the lake and talked with ecstasy of our future prospects.  The first
2680of those sorrows which are sent to wean us from the earth had visited
2681her, and its dimming influence quenched her dearest smiles.
2682
2683"When I reflect, my dear cousin," said she, "on the miserable death of
2684Justine Moritz, I no longer see the world and its works as they before
2685appeared to me.  Before, I looked upon the accounts of vice and
2686injustice that I read in books or heard from others as tales of ancient
2687days or imaginary evils; at least they were remote and more familiar to
2688reason than to the imagination; but now misery has come home, and men
2689appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other's blood.  Yet I am
2690certainly unjust.  Everybody believed that poor girl to be guilty; and
2691if she could have committed the crime for which she suffered, assuredly
2692she would have been the most depraved of human creatures.  For the sake
2693of a few jewels, to have murdered the son of her benefactor and friend,
2694a child whom she had nursed from its birth, and appeared to love as if
2695it had been her own!  I could not consent to the death of any human
2696being, but certainly I should have thought such a creature unfit to
2697remain in the society of men.  But she was innocent.  I know, I feel
2698she was innocent; you are of the same opinion, and that confirms me.
2699Alas!  Victor, when falsehood can look so like the truth, who can
2700assure themselves of certain happiness?  I feel as if I were walking on
2701the edge of a precipice, towards which thousands are crowding and
2702endeavouring to plunge me into the abyss.  William and Justine were
2703assassinated, and the murderer escapes; he walks about the world free,
2704and perhaps respected.  But even if I were condemned to suffer on the
2705scaffold for the same crimes, I would not change places with such a
2706wretch."
2707
2708I listened to this discourse with the extremest agony.  I, not in deed,
2709but in effect, was the true murderer.  Elizabeth read my anguish in my
2710countenance, and kindly taking my hand, said, "My dearest friend, you
2711must calm yourself.  These events have affected me, God knows how
2712deeply; but I am not so wretched as you are.  There is an expression of
2713despair, and sometimes of revenge, in your countenance that makes me
2714tremble.  Dear Victor, banish these dark passions.  Remember the
2715friends around you, who centre all their hopes in you.  Have we lost
2716the power of rendering you happy?  Ah!  While we love, while we are
2717true to each other, here in this land of peace and beauty, your native
2718country, we may reap every tranquil blessing--what can disturb our
2719peace?"
2720
2721And could not such words from her whom I fondly prized before every
2722other gift of fortune suffice to chase away the fiend that lurked in my
2723heart?  Even as she spoke I drew near to her, as if in terror, lest at
2724that very moment the destroyer had been near to rob me of her.
2725
2726Thus not the tenderness of friendship, nor the beauty of earth, nor of
2727heaven, could redeem my soul from woe; the very accents of love were
2728ineffectual.  I was encompassed by a cloud which no beneficial
2729influence could penetrate.  The wounded deer dragging its fainting
2730limbs to some untrodden brake, there to gaze upon the arrow which had
2731pierced it, and to die, was but a type of me.
2732
2733Sometimes I could cope with the sullen despair that overwhelmed me, but
2734sometimes the whirlwind passions of my soul drove me to seek, by bodily
2735exercise and by change of place, some relief from my intolerable
2736sensations.  It was during an access of this kind that I suddenly left
2737my home, and bending my steps towards the near Alpine valleys, sought
2738in the magnificence, the eternity of such scenes, to forget myself and
2739my ephemeral, because human, sorrows.  My wanderings were directed
2740towards the valley of Chamounix.  I had visited it frequently during my
2741boyhood.  Six years had passed since then:  _I_ was a wreck, but nought
2742had changed in those savage and enduring scenes.
2743
2744I performed the first part of my journey on horseback.  I afterwards
2745hired a mule, as the more sure-footed and least liable to receive
2746injury on these rugged roads.  The weather was fine; it was about the
2747middle of the month of August, nearly two months after the death of
2748Justine, that miserable epoch from which I dated all my woe.  The
2749weight upon my spirit was sensibly lightened as I plunged yet deeper in
2750the ravine of Arve.  The immense mountains and precipices that overhung
2751me on every side, the sound of the river raging among the rocks, and
2752the dashing of the waterfalls around spoke of a power mighty as
2753Omnipotence--and I ceased to fear or to bend before any being less
2754almighty than that which had created and ruled the elements, here
2755displayed in their most terrific guise.  Still, as I ascended higher,
2756the valley assumed a more magnificent and astonishing character.
2757Ruined castles hanging on the precipices of piny mountains, the
2758impetuous Arve, and cottages every here and there peeping forth from
2759among the trees formed a scene of singular beauty.  But it was
2760augmented and rendered sublime by the mighty Alps, whose white and
2761shining pyramids and domes towered above all, as belonging to another
2762earth, the habitations of another race of beings.
2763
2764I passed the bridge of Pelissier, where the ravine, which the river
2765forms, opened before me, and I began to ascend the mountain that
2766overhangs it.  Soon after, I entered the valley of Chamounix.  This
2767valley is more wonderful and sublime, but not so beautiful and
2768picturesque as that of Servox, through which I had just passed.  The
2769high and snowy mountains were its immediate boundaries, but I saw no
2770more ruined castles and fertile fields.  Immense glaciers approached
2771the road; I heard the rumbling thunder of the falling avalanche and
2772marked the smoke of its passage.  Mont Blanc, the supreme and
2773magnificent Mont Blanc, raised itself from the surrounding aiguilles,
2774and its tremendous dome overlooked the valley.
2775
2776A tingling long-lost sense of pleasure often came across me during this
2777journey.  Some turn in the road, some new object suddenly perceived and
2778recognized, reminded me of days gone by, and were associated with the
2779lighthearted gaiety of boyhood.  The very winds whispered in soothing
2780accents, and maternal Nature bade me weep no more.  Then again the
2781kindly influence ceased to act--I found myself fettered again to grief
2782and indulging in all the misery of reflection.  Then I spurred on my
2783animal, striving so to forget the world, my fears, and more than all,
2784myself--or, in a more desperate fashion, I alighted and threw myself on
2785the grass, weighed down by horror and despair.
2786
2787At length I arrived at the village of Chamounix.  Exhaustion succeeded
2788to the extreme fatigue both of body and of mind which I had endured.
2789For a short space of time I remained at the window watching the pallid
2790lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of
2791the Arve, which pursued its noisy way beneath.  The same lulling sounds
2792acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my head
2793upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessed
2794the giver of oblivion.
2795
2796
2797
2798Chapter 10
2799
2800I spent the following day roaming through the valley.  I stood beside
2801the sources of the Arveiron, which take their rise in a glacier, that
2802with slow pace is advancing down from the summit of the hills to
2803barricade the valley.  The abrupt sides of vast mountains were before
2804me; the icy wall of the glacier overhung me; a few shattered pines were
2805scattered around; and the solemn silence of this glorious
2806presence-chamber of imperial nature was broken only by the brawling
2807waves or the fall of some vast fragment, the thunder sound of the
2808avalanche or the cracking, reverberated along the mountains, of the
2809accumulated ice, which, through the silent working of immutable laws,
2810was ever and anon rent and torn, as if it had been but a plaything in
2811their hands.  These sublime and magnificent scenes afforded me the
2812greatest consolation that I was capable of receiving.  They elevated me
2813from all littleness of feeling, and although they did not remove my
2814grief, they subdued and tranquillized it.  In some degree, also, they
2815diverted my mind from the thoughts over which it had brooded for the
2816last month.  I retired to rest at night; my slumbers, as it were,
2817waited on and ministered to by the assemblance of grand shapes which I
2818had contemplated during the day.  They congregated round me; the
2819unstained snowy mountain-top, the glittering pinnacle, the pine woods,
2820and ragged bare ravine, the eagle, soaring amidst the clouds--they all
2821gathered round me and bade me be at peace.
2822
2823Where had they fled when the next morning I awoke?  All of
2824soul-inspiriting fled with sleep, and dark melancholy clouded every
2825thought.  The rain was pouring in torrents, and thick mists hid the
2826summits of the mountains, so that I even saw not the faces of those
2827mighty friends.  Still I would penetrate their misty veil and seek them
2828in their cloudy retreats.  What were rain and storm to me?  My mule was
2829brought to the door, and I resolved to ascend to the summit of
2830Montanvert.  I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous
2831and ever-moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first saw it.
2832It had then filled me with a sublime ecstasy that gave wings to the
2833soul and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy.
2834The sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed always the
2835effect of solemnizing my mind and causing me to forget the passing
2836cares of life.  I determined to go without a guide, for I was well
2837acquainted with the path, and the presence of another would destroy the
2838solitary grandeur of the scene.
2839
2840The ascent is precipitous, but the path is cut into continual and short
2841windings, which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of the
2842mountain.  It is a scene terrifically desolate.  In a thousand spots
2843the traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived, where trees lie
2844broken and strewed on the ground, some entirely destroyed, others bent,
2845leaning upon the jutting rocks of the mountain or transversely upon
2846other trees.  The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines
2847of snow, down which stones continually roll from above; one of them is
2848particularly dangerous, as the slightest sound, such as even speaking
2849in a loud voice, produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw
2850destruction upon the head of the speaker.  The pines are not tall or
2851luxuriant, but they are sombre and add an air of severity to the scene.
2852I looked on the valley beneath; vast mists were rising from the rivers
2853which ran through it and curling in thick wreaths around the opposite
2854mountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds, while rain
2855poured from the dark sky and added to the melancholy impression I
2856received from the objects around me.  Alas!  Why does man boast of
2857sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders
2858them more necessary beings.  If our impulses were confined to hunger,
2859thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by
2860every wind that blows and a chance word or scene that that word may
2861convey to us.
2862
2863
2864  We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.
2865   We rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the day.
2866  We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,
2867   Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;
2868  It is the same:  for, be it joy or sorrow,
2869   The path of its departure still is free.
2870  Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;
2871   Nought may endure but mutability!
2872
2873
2874It was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent.  For some
2875time I sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice.  A mist covered
2876both that and the surrounding mountains.  Presently a breeze dissipated
2877the cloud, and I descended upon the glacier.  The surface is very
2878uneven, rising like the waves of a troubled sea, descending low, and
2879interspersed by rifts that sink deep.  The field of ice is almost a
2880league in width, but I spent nearly two hours in crossing it.  The
2881opposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock.  From the side where I
2882now stood Montanvert was exactly opposite, at the distance of a league;
2883and above it rose Mont Blanc, in awful majesty.  I remained in a recess
2884of the rock, gazing on this wonderful and stupendous scene.  The sea,
2885or rather the vast river of ice, wound among its dependent mountains,
2886whose aerial summits hung over its recesses.  Their icy and glittering
2887peaks shone in the sunlight over the clouds.  My heart, which was
2888before sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy; I exclaimed,
2889"Wandering spirits, if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in your narrow
2890beds, allow me this faint happiness, or take me, as your companion,
2891away from the joys of life."
2892
2893As I said this I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance,
2894advancing towards me with superhuman speed.  He bounded over the
2895crevices in the ice, among which I had walked with caution; his
2896stature, also, as he approached, seemed to exceed that of man.  I was
2897troubled; a mist came over my eyes, and I felt a faintness seize me,
2898but I was quickly restored by the cold gale of the mountains.  I
2899perceived, as the shape came nearer (sight tremendous and abhorred!)
2900that it was the wretch whom I had created.  I trembled with rage and
2901horror, resolving to wait his approach and then close with him in
2902mortal combat.  He approached; his countenance bespoke bitter anguish,
2903combined with disdain and malignity, while its unearthly ugliness
2904rendered it almost too horrible for human eyes.  But I scarcely
2905observed this; rage and hatred had at first deprived me of utterance,
2906and I recovered only to overwhelm him with words expressive of furious
2907detestation and contempt.
2908
2909"Devil," I exclaimed, "do you dare approach me?  And do not you fear
2910the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head?  Begone,
2911vile insect!  Or rather, stay, that I may trample you to dust!  And,
2912oh!  That I could, with the extinction of your miserable existence,
2913restore those victims whom you have so diabolically murdered!"
2914
2915"I expected this reception," said the daemon.  "All men hate the
2916wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all
2917living things!  Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature,
2918to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of
2919one of us.  You purpose to kill me.  How dare you sport thus with life?
2920Do your duty towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of
2921mankind.  If you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and
2922you at peace; but if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until it
2923be satiated with the blood of your remaining friends."
2924
2925"Abhorred monster!  Fiend that thou art!  The tortures of hell are too
2926mild a vengeance for thy crimes.  Wretched devil!  You reproach me with
2927your creation, come on, then, that I may extinguish the spark which I
2928so negligently bestowed."
2929
2930My rage was without bounds; I sprang on him, impelled by all the
2931feelings which can arm one being against the existence of another.
2932
2933He easily eluded me and said,
2934
2935"Be calm!  I entreat you to hear me before you give vent to your hatred
2936on my devoted head.  Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to
2937increase my misery?  Life, although it may only be an accumulation of
2938anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it.  Remember, thou hast made
2939me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my
2940joints more supple.  But I will not be tempted to set myself in
2941opposition to thee.  I am thy creature, and I will be even mild and
2942docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part,
2943the which thou owest me.  Oh, Frankenstein, be not equitable to every
2944other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy
2945clemency and affection, is most due.  Remember that I am thy creature;
2946I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou
2947drivest from joy for no misdeed.  Everywhere I see bliss, from which I
2948alone am irrevocably excluded.  I was benevolent and good; misery made
2949me a fiend.  Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous."
2950
2951"Begone!  I will not hear you.  There can be no community between you
2952and me; we are enemies.  Begone, or let us try our strength in a fight,
2953in which one must fall."
2954
2955"How can I move thee?  Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a
2956favourable eye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness and
2957compassion?  Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent; my soul glowed
2958with love and humanity; but am I not alone, miserably alone?  You, my
2959creator, abhor me; what hope can I gather from your fellow creatures,
2960who owe me nothing?  They spurn and hate me.  The desert mountains and
2961dreary glaciers are my refuge.  I have wandered here many days; the
2962caves of ice, which I only do not fear, are a dwelling to me, and the
2963only one which man does not grudge.  These bleak skies I hail, for they
2964are kinder to me than your fellow beings.  If the multitude of mankind
2965knew of my existence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves for
2966my destruction.  Shall I not then hate them who abhor me?  I will keep
2967no terms with my enemies.  I am miserable, and they shall share my
2968wretchedness.  Yet it is in your power to recompense me, and deliver
2969them from an evil which it only remains for you to make so great, that
2970not only you and your family, but thousands of others, shall be
2971swallowed up in the whirlwinds of its rage.  Let your compassion be
2972moved, and do not disdain me.  Listen to my tale; when you have heard
2973that, abandon or commiserate me, as you shall judge that I deserve.
2974But hear me.  The guilty are allowed, by human laws, bloody as they
2975are, to speak in their own defence before they are condemned.  Listen
2976to me, Frankenstein.  You accuse me of murder, and yet you would, with
2977a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature.  Oh, praise the
2978eternal justice of man!  Yet I ask you not to spare me; listen to me,
2979and then, if you can, and if you will, destroy the work of your hands."
2980
2981"Why do you call to my remembrance," I rejoined, "circumstances of
2982which I shudder to reflect, that I have been the miserable origin and
2983author?  Cursed be the day, abhorred devil, in which you first saw
2984light!  Cursed (although I curse myself) be the hands that formed you!
2985You have made me wretched beyond expression.  You have left me no power
2986to consider whether I am just to you or not.  Begone!  Relieve me from
2987the sight of your detested form."
2988
2989"Thus I relieve thee, my creator," he said, and placed his hated hands
2990before my eyes, which I flung from me with violence; "thus I take from
2991thee a sight which you abhor.  Still thou canst listen to me and grant
2992me thy compassion.  By the virtues that I once possessed, I demand this
2993from you.  Hear my tale; it is long and strange, and the temperature of
2994this place is not fitting to your fine sensations; come to the hut upon
2995the mountain.  The sun is yet high in the heavens; before it descends
2996to hide itself behind your snowy precipices and illuminate another
2997world, you will have heard my story and can decide.  On you it rests,
2998whether I quit forever the neighbourhood of man and lead a harmless
2999life, or become the scourge of your fellow creatures and the author of
3000your own speedy ruin."
3001
3002As he said this he led the way across the ice; I followed.  My heart
3003was full, and I did not answer him, but as I proceeded, I weighed the
3004various arguments that he had used and determined at least to listen to
3005his tale.  I was partly urged by curiosity, and compassion confirmed my
3006resolution.  I had hitherto supposed him to be the murderer of my
3007brother, and I eagerly sought a confirmation or denial of this opinion.
3008For the first time, also, I felt what the duties of a creator towards
3009his creature were, and that I ought to render him happy before I
3010complained of his wickedness.  These motives urged me to comply with
3011his demand.  We crossed the ice, therefore, and ascended the opposite
3012rock.  The air was cold, and the rain again began to descend; we
3013entered the hut, the fiend with an air of exultation, I with a heavy
3014heart and depressed spirits.  But I consented to listen, and seating
3015myself by the fire which my odious companion had lighted, he thus began
3016his tale.
3017
3018
3019
3020Chapter 11
3021
3022"It is with considerable difficulty that I remember the original era of
3023my being; all the events of that period appear confused and indistinct.
3024A strange multiplicity of sensations seized me, and I saw, felt, heard,
3025and smelt at the same time; and it was, indeed, a long time before I
3026learned to distinguish between the operations of my various senses.  By
3027degrees, I remember, a stronger light pressed upon my nerves, so that I
3028was obliged to shut my eyes.  Darkness then came over me and troubled
3029me, but hardly had I felt this when, by opening my eyes, as I now
3030suppose, the light poured in upon me again.  I walked and, I believe,
3031descended, but I presently found a great alteration in my sensations.
3032Before, dark and opaque bodies had surrounded me, impervious to my
3033touch or sight; but I now found that I could wander on at liberty, with
3034no obstacles which I could not either surmount or avoid.  The light
3035became more and more oppressive to me, and the heat wearying me as I
3036walked, I sought a place where I could receive shade.  This was the
3037forest near Ingolstadt; and here I lay by the side of a brook resting
3038from my fatigue, until I felt tormented by hunger and thirst.  This
3039roused me from my nearly dormant state, and I ate some berries which I
3040found hanging on the trees or lying on the ground.  I slaked my thirst
3041at the brook, and then lying down, was overcome by sleep.
3042
3043"It was dark when I awoke; I felt cold also, and half frightened, as it
3044were, instinctively, finding myself so desolate.  Before I had quitted
3045your apartment, on a sensation of cold, I had covered myself with some
3046clothes, but these were insufficient to secure me from the dews of
3047night.  I was a poor, helpless, miserable wretch; I knew, and could
3048distinguish, nothing; but feeling pain invade me on all sides, I sat
3049down and wept.
3050
3051"Soon a gentle light stole over the heavens and gave me a sensation of
3052pleasure.  I started up and beheld a radiant form rise from among the
3053trees.  [The moon]  I gazed with a kind of wonder.  It moved slowly,
3054but it enlightened my path, and I again went out in search of berries.
3055I was still cold when under one of the trees I found a huge cloak, with
3056which I covered myself, and sat down upon the ground.  No distinct
3057ideas occupied my mind; all was confused.  I felt light, and hunger,
3058and thirst, and darkness; innumerable sounds rang in my ears, and on
3059all sides various scents saluted me; the only object that I could
3060distinguish was the bright moon, and I fixed my eyes on that with
3061pleasure.
3062
3063"Several changes of day and night passed, and the orb of night had
3064greatly lessened, when I began to distinguish my sensations from each
3065other.  I gradually saw plainly the clear stream that supplied me with
3066drink and the trees that shaded me with their foliage.  I was delighted
3067when I first discovered that a pleasant sound, which often saluted my
3068ears, proceeded from the throats of the little winged animals who had
3069often intercepted the light from my eyes.  I began also to observe,
3070with greater accuracy, the forms that surrounded me and to perceive the
3071boundaries of the radiant roof of light which canopied me.  Sometimes I
3072tried to imitate the pleasant songs of the birds but was unable.
3073Sometimes I wished to express my sensations in my own mode, but the
3074uncouth and inarticulate sounds which broke from me frightened me into
3075silence again.
3076
3077"The moon had disappeared from the night, and again, with a lessened
3078form, showed itself, while I still remained in the forest.  My
3079sensations had by this time become distinct, and my mind received every
3080day additional ideas.  My eyes became accustomed to the light and to
3081perceive objects in their right forms; I distinguished the insect from
3082the herb, and by degrees, one herb from another.  I found that the
3083sparrow uttered none but harsh notes, whilst those of the blackbird and
3084thrush were sweet and enticing.
3085
3086"One day, when I was oppressed by cold, I found a fire which had been
3087left by some wandering beggars, and was overcome with delight at the
3088warmth I experienced from it.  In my joy I thrust my hand into the live
3089embers, but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain.  How strange,
3090I thought, that the same cause should produce such opposite effects!  I
3091examined the materials of the fire, and to my joy found it to be
3092composed of wood.  I quickly collected some branches, but they were wet
3093and would not burn.  I was pained at this and sat still watching the
3094operation of the fire.  The wet wood which I had placed near the heat
3095dried and itself became inflamed.  I reflected on this, and by touching
3096the various branches, I discovered the cause and busied myself in
3097collecting a great quantity of wood, that I might dry it and have a
3098plentiful supply of fire.  When night came on and brought sleep with
3099it, I was in the greatest fear lest my fire should be extinguished.  I
3100covered it carefully with dry wood and leaves and placed wet branches
3101upon it; and then, spreading my cloak, I lay on the ground and sank
3102into sleep.
3103
3104"It was morning when I awoke, and my first care was to visit the fire.
3105I uncovered it, and a gentle breeze quickly fanned it into a flame.  I
3106observed this also and contrived a fan of branches, which roused the
3107embers when they were nearly extinguished.  When night came again I
3108found, with pleasure, that the fire gave light as well as heat and that
3109the discovery of this element was useful to me in my food, for I found
3110some of the offals that the travellers had left had been roasted, and
3111tasted much more savoury than the berries I gathered from the trees.  I
3112tried, therefore, to dress my food in the same manner, placing it on
3113the live embers.  I found that the berries were spoiled by this
3114operation, and the nuts and roots much improved.
3115
3116"Food, however, became scarce, and I often spent the whole day
3117searching in vain for a few acorns to assuage the pangs of hunger. When
3118I found this, I resolved to quit the place that I had hitherto
3119inhabited, to seek for one where the few wants I experienced would be
3120more easily satisfied.  In this emigration I exceedingly lamented the
3121loss of the fire which I had obtained through accident and knew not how
3122to reproduce it.  I gave several hours to the serious consideration of
3123this difficulty, but I was obliged to relinquish all attempt to supply
3124it, and wrapping myself up in my cloak, I struck across the wood
3125towards the setting sun.  I passed three days in these rambles and at
3126length discovered the open country.  A great fall of snow had taken
3127place the night before, and the fields were of one uniform white; the
3128appearance was disconsolate, and I found my feet chilled by the cold
3129damp substance that covered the ground.
3130
3131"It was about seven in the morning, and I longed to obtain food and
3132shelter; at length I perceived a small hut, on a rising ground, which
3133had doubtless been built for the convenience of some shepherd.  This
3134was a new sight to me, and I examined the structure with great
3135curiosity.  Finding the door open, I entered.  An old man sat in it,
3136near a fire, over which he was preparing his breakfast.  He turned on
3137hearing a noise, and perceiving me, shrieked loudly, and quitting the
3138hut, ran across the fields with a speed of which his debilitated form
3139hardly appeared capable.  His appearance, different from any I had ever
3140before seen, and his flight somewhat surprised me.  But I was enchanted
3141by the appearance of the hut; here the snow and rain could not
3142penetrate; the ground was dry; and it presented to me then as exquisite
3143and divine a retreat as Pandemonium appeared to the demons of hell
3144after their sufferings in the lake of fire.  I greedily devoured the
3145remnants of the shepherd's breakfast, which consisted of bread, cheese,
3146milk, and wine; the latter, however, I did not like.  Then, overcome by
3147fatigue, I lay down among some straw and fell asleep.
3148
3149"It was noon when I awoke, and allured by the warmth of the sun, which
3150shone brightly on the white ground, I determined to recommence my
3151travels; and, depositing the remains of the peasant's breakfast in a
3152wallet I found, I proceeded across the fields for several hours, until
3153at sunset I arrived at a village.  How miraculous did this appear!  The
3154huts, the neater cottages, and stately houses engaged my admiration by
3155turns.  The vegetables in the gardens, the milk and cheese that I saw
3156placed at the windows of some of the cottages, allured my appetite. One
3157of the best of these I entered, but I had hardly placed my foot within
3158the door before the children shrieked, and one of the women fainted.
3159The whole village was roused; some fled, some attacked me, until,
3160grievously bruised by stones and many other kinds of missile weapons, I
3161escaped to the open country and fearfully took refuge in a low hovel,
3162quite bare, and making a wretched appearance after the palaces I had
3163beheld in the village.  This hovel however, joined a cottage of a neat
3164and pleasant appearance, but after my late dearly bought experience, I
3165dared not enter it.  My place of refuge was constructed of wood, but so
3166low that I could with difficulty sit upright in it.  No wood, however,
3167was placed on the earth, which formed the floor, but it was dry; and
3168although the wind entered it by innumerable chinks, I found it an
3169agreeable asylum from the snow and rain.
3170
3171"Here, then, I retreated and lay down happy to have found a shelter,
3172however miserable, from the inclemency of the season, and still more
3173from the barbarity of man.  As soon as morning dawned I crept from my
3174kennel, that I might view the adjacent cottage and discover if I could
3175remain in the habitation I had found.  It was situated against the back
3176of the cottage and surrounded on the sides which were exposed by a pig
3177sty and a clear pool of water.  One part was open, and by that I had
3178crept in; but now I covered every crevice by which I might be perceived
3179with stones and wood, yet in such a manner that I might move them on
3180occasion to pass out; all the light I enjoyed came through the sty, and
3181that was sufficient for me.
3182
3183"Having thus arranged my dwelling and carpeted it with clean straw, I
3184retired, for I saw the figure of a man at a distance, and I remembered
3185too well my treatment the night before to trust myself in his power.  I
3186had first, however, provided for my sustenance for that day by a loaf
3187of coarse bread, which I purloined, and a cup with which I could drink
3188more conveniently than from my hand of the pure water which flowed by
3189my retreat.  The floor was a little raised, so that it was kept
3190perfectly dry, and by its vicinity to the chimney of the cottage it was
3191tolerably warm.
3192
3193"Being thus provided, I resolved to reside in this hovel until
3194something should occur which might alter my determination.  It was
3195indeed a paradise compared to the bleak forest, my former residence,
3196the rain-dropping branches, and dank earth.  I ate my breakfast with
3197pleasure and was about to remove a plank to procure myself a little
3198water when I heard a step, and looking through a small chink, I beheld
3199a young creature, with a pail on her head, passing before my hovel. The
3200girl was young and of gentle demeanour, unlike what I have since found
3201cottagers and farmhouse servants to be.  Yet she was meanly dressed, a
3202coarse blue petticoat and a linen jacket being her only garb; her fair
3203hair was plaited but not adorned:  she looked patient yet sad.  I lost
3204sight of her, and in about a quarter of an hour she returned bearing
3205the pail, which was now partly filled with milk.  As she walked along,
3206seemingly incommoded by the burden, a young man met her, whose
3207countenance expressed a deeper despondence.  Uttering a few sounds with
3208an air of melancholy, he took the pail from her head and bore it to the
3209cottage himself.  She followed, and they disappeared.  Presently I saw
3210the young man again, with some tools in his hand, cross the field
3211behind the cottage; and the girl was also busied, sometimes in the
3212house and sometimes in the yard.
3213
3214"On examining my dwelling, I found that one of the windows of the
3215cottage had formerly occupied a part of it, but the panes had been
3216filled up with wood. In one of these was a small and almost
3217imperceptible chink through which the eye could just penetrate.
3218Through this crevice a small room was visible, whitewashed and clean
3219but very bare of furniture. In one corner, near a small fire, sat an
3220old man, leaning his head on his hands in a disconsolate attitude. The
3221young girl was occupied in arranging the cottage; but presently she
3222took something out of a drawer, which employed her hands, and she sat
3223down beside the old man, who, taking up an instrument, began to play
3224and to produce sounds sweeter than the voice of the thrush or the
3225nightingale. It was a lovely sight, even to me, poor wretch who had
3226never beheld aught beautiful before. The silver hair and benevolent
3227countenance of the aged cottager won my reverence, while the gentle
3228manners of the girl enticed my love. He played a sweet mournful air
3229which I perceived drew tears from the eyes of his amiable companion, of
3230which the old man took no notice, until she sobbed audibly; he then
3231pronounced a few sounds, and the fair creature, leaving her work, knelt
3232at his feet. He raised her and smiled with such kindness and affection
3233that I felt sensations of a peculiar and overpowering nature; they were
3234a mixture of pain and pleasure, such as I had never before experienced,
3235either from hunger or cold, warmth or food; and I withdrew from the
3236window, unable to bear these emotions.
3237
3238"Soon after this the young man returned, bearing on his shoulders a
3239load of wood.  The girl met him at the door, helped to relieve him of
3240his burden, and taking some of the fuel into the cottage, placed it on
3241the fire; then she and the youth went apart into a nook of the cottage,
3242and he showed her a large loaf and a piece of cheese.  She seemed
3243pleased and went into the garden for some roots and plants, which she
3244placed in water, and then upon the fire.  She afterwards continued her
3245work, whilst the young man went into the garden and appeared busily
3246employed in digging and pulling up roots.  After he had been employed
3247thus about an hour, the young woman joined him and they entered the
3248cottage together.
3249
3250"The old man had, in the meantime, been pensive, but on the appearance
3251of his companions he assumed a more cheerful air, and they sat down to
3252eat.  The meal was quickly dispatched.  The young woman was again
3253occupied in arranging the cottage, the old man walked before the
3254cottage in the sun for a few minutes, leaning on the arm of the youth.
3255Nothing could exceed in beauty the contrast between these two excellent
3256creatures.  One was old, with silver hairs and a countenance beaming
3257with benevolence and love; the younger was slight and graceful in his
3258figure, and his features were moulded with the finest symmetry, yet his
3259eyes and attitude expressed the utmost sadness and despondency.  The
3260old man returned to the cottage, and the youth, with tools different
3261from those he had used in the morning, directed his steps across the
3262fields.
3263
3264"Night quickly shut in, but to my extreme wonder, I found that the
3265cottagers had a means of prolonging light by the use of tapers, and was
3266delighted to find that the setting of the sun did not put an end to the
3267pleasure I experienced in watching my human neighbours.  In the evening
3268the young girl and her companion were employed in various occupations
3269which I did not understand; and the old man again took up the
3270instrument which produced the divine sounds that had enchanted me in
3271the morning.  So soon as he had finished, the youth began, not to play,
3272but to utter sounds that were monotonous, and neither resembling the
3273harmony of the old man's instrument nor the songs of the birds; I since
3274found that he read aloud, but at that time I knew nothing of the
3275science of words or letters.
3276
3277"The family, after having been thus occupied for a short time,
3278extinguished their lights and retired, as I conjectured, to rest."
3279
3280
3281
3282Chapter 12
3283
3284"I lay on my straw, but I could not sleep.  I thought of the
3285occurrences of the day.  What chiefly struck me was the gentle manners
3286of these people, and I longed to join them, but dared not.  I
3287remembered too well the treatment I had suffered the night before from
3288the barbarous villagers, and resolved, whatever course of conduct I
3289might hereafter think it right to pursue, that for the present I would
3290remain quietly in my hovel, watching and endeavouring to discover the
3291motives which influenced their actions.
3292
3293"The cottagers arose the next morning before the sun.  The young woman
3294arranged the cottage and prepared the food, and the youth departed
3295after the first meal.
3296
3297"This day was passed in the same routine as that which preceded it.
3298The young man was constantly employed out of doors, and the girl in
3299various laborious occupations within.  The old man, whom I soon
3300perceived to be blind, employed his leisure hours on his instrument or
3301in contemplation.  Nothing could exceed the love and respect which the
3302younger cottagers exhibited towards their venerable companion.  They
3303performed towards him every little office of affection and duty with
3304gentleness, and he rewarded them by his benevolent smiles.
3305
3306"They were not entirely happy.  The young man and his companion often
3307went apart and appeared to weep.  I saw no cause for their unhappiness,
3308but I was deeply affected by it.  If such lovely creatures were
3309miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being,
3310should be wretched.  Yet why were these gentle beings unhappy?  They
3311possessed a delightful house (for such it was in my eyes) and every
3312luxury; they had a fire to warm them when chill and delicious viands
3313when hungry; they were dressed in excellent clothes; and, still more,
3314they enjoyed one another's company and speech, interchanging each day
3315looks of affection and kindness.  What did their tears imply?  Did they
3316really express pain?  I was at first unable to solve these questions,
3317but perpetual attention and time explained to me many appearances which
3318were at first enigmatic.
3319
3320"A considerable period elapsed before I discovered one of the causes of
3321the uneasiness of this amiable family:  it was poverty, and they
3322suffered that evil in a very distressing degree.  Their nourishment
3323consisted entirely of the vegetables of their garden and the milk of
3324one cow, which gave very little during the winter, when its masters
3325could scarcely procure food to support it.  They often, I believe,
3326suffered the pangs of hunger very poignantly, especially the two
3327younger cottagers, for several times they placed food before the old
3328man when they reserved none for themselves.
3329
3330"This trait of kindness moved me sensibly.  I had been accustomed,
3331during the night, to steal a part of their store for my own
3332consumption, but when I found that in doing this I inflicted pain on
3333the cottagers, I abstained and satisfied myself with berries, nuts, and
3334roots which I gathered from a neighbouring wood.
3335
3336"I discovered also another means through which I was enabled to assist
3337their labours.  I found that the youth spent a great part of each day
3338in collecting wood for the family fire, and during the night I often
3339took his tools, the use of which I quickly discovered, and brought home
3340firing sufficient for the consumption of several days.
3341
3342"I remember, the first time that I did this, the young woman, when she
3343opened the door in the morning, appeared greatly astonished on seeing a
3344great pile of wood on the outside.  She uttered some words in a loud
3345voice, and the youth joined her, who also expressed surprise.  I
3346observed, with pleasure, that he did not go to the forest that day, but
3347spent it in repairing the cottage and cultivating the garden.
3348
3349"By degrees I made a discovery of still greater moment.  I found that
3350these people possessed a method of communicating their experience and
3351feelings to one another by articulate sounds.  I perceived that the
3352words they spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or
3353sadness, in the minds and countenances of the hearers.  This was indeed
3354a godlike science, and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it.
3355But I was baffled in every attempt I made for this purpose.  Their
3356pronunciation was quick, and the words they uttered, not having any
3357apparent connection with visible objects, I was unable to discover any
3358clue by which I could unravel the mystery of their reference.  By great
3359application, however, and after having remained during the space of
3360several revolutions of the moon in my hovel, I discovered the names
3361that were given to some of the most familiar objects of discourse; I
3362learned and applied the words, 'fire,' 'milk,' 'bread,' and 'wood.'  I
3363learned also the names of the cottagers themselves.  The youth and his
3364companion had each of them several names, but the old man had only one,
3365which was 'father.' The girl was called 'sister' or 'Agatha,' and the
3366youth 'Felix,' 'brother,' or 'son.'  I cannot describe the delight I
3367felt when I learned the ideas appropriated to each of these sounds and
3368was able to pronounce them.  I distinguished several other words
3369without being able as yet to understand or apply them, such as 'good,'
3370'dearest,' 'unhappy.'
3371
3372"I spent the winter in this manner.  The gentle manners and beauty of
3373the cottagers greatly endeared them to me; when they were unhappy, I
3374felt depressed; when they rejoiced, I sympathized in their joys.  I saw
3375few human beings besides them, and if any other happened to enter the
3376cottage, their harsh manners and rude gait only enhanced to me the
3377superior accomplishments of my friends.  The old man, I could perceive,
3378often endeavoured to encourage his children, as sometimes I found that
3379he called them, to cast off their melancholy.  He would talk in a
3380cheerful accent, with an expression of goodness that bestowed pleasure
3381even upon me.  Agatha listened with respect, her eyes sometimes filled
3382with tears, which she endeavoured to wipe away unperceived; but I
3383generally found that her countenance and tone were more cheerful after
3384having listened to the exhortations of her father.  It was not thus
3385with Felix.  He was always the saddest of the group, and even to my
3386unpractised senses, he appeared to have suffered more deeply than his
3387friends.  But if his countenance was more sorrowful, his voice was more
3388cheerful than that of his sister, especially when he addressed the old
3389man.
3390
3391"I could mention innumerable instances which, although slight, marked
3392the dispositions of these amiable cottagers.  In the midst of poverty
3393and want, Felix carried with pleasure to his sister the first little
3394white flower that peeped out from beneath the snowy ground.  Early in
3395the morning, before she had risen, he cleared away the snow that
3396obstructed her path to the milk-house, drew water from the well, and
3397brought the wood from the outhouse, where, to his perpetual
3398astonishment, he found his store always replenished by an invisible
3399hand.  In the day, I believe, he worked sometimes for a neighbouring
3400farmer, because he often went forth and did not return until dinner,
3401yet brought no wood with him.  At other times he worked in the garden,
3402but as there was little to do in the frosty season, he read to the old
3403man and Agatha.
3404
3405"This reading had puzzled me extremely at first, but by degrees I
3406discovered that he uttered many of the same sounds when he read as when
3407he talked.  I conjectured, therefore, that he found on the paper signs
3408for speech which he understood, and I ardently longed to comprehend
3409these also; but how was that possible when I did not even understand
3410the sounds for which they stood as signs?  I improved, however,
3411sensibly in this science, but not sufficiently to follow up any kind of
3412conversation, although I applied my whole mind to the endeavour, for I
3413easily perceived that, although I eagerly longed to discover myself to
3414the cottagers, I ought not to make the attempt until I had first become
3415master of their language, which knowledge might enable me to make them
3416overlook the deformity of my figure, for with this also the contrast
3417perpetually presented to my eyes had made me acquainted.
3418
3419"I had admired the perfect forms of my cottagers--their grace, beauty,
3420and delicate complexions; but how was I terrified when I viewed myself
3421in a transparent pool!  At first I started back, unable to believe that
3422it was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror; and when I became
3423fully convinced that I was in reality the monster that I am, I was
3424filled with the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification.
3425Alas!  I did not yet entirely know the fatal effects of this miserable
3426deformity.
3427
3428"As the sun became warmer and the light of day longer, the snow
3429vanished, and I beheld the bare trees and the black earth.  From this
3430time Felix was more employed, and the heart-moving indications of
3431impending famine disappeared.  Their food, as I afterwards found, was
3432coarse, but it was wholesome; and they procured a sufficiency of it.
3433Several new kinds of plants sprang up in the garden, which they
3434dressed; and these signs of comfort increased daily as the season
3435advanced.
3436
3437"The old man, leaning on his son, walked each day at noon, when it did
3438not rain, as I found it was called when the heavens poured forth its
3439waters.  This frequently took place, but a high wind quickly dried the
3440earth, and the season became far more pleasant than it had been.
3441
3442"My mode of life in my hovel was uniform.  During the morning I
3443attended the motions of the cottagers, and when they were dispersed in
3444various occupations, I slept; the remainder of the day was spent in
3445observing my friends.  When they had retired to rest, if there was any
3446moon or the night was star-light, I went into the woods and collected
3447my own food and fuel for the cottage.  When I returned, as often as it
3448was necessary, I cleared their path from the snow and performed those
3449offices that I had seen done by Felix.  I afterwards found that these
3450labours, performed by an invisible hand, greatly astonished them; and
3451once or twice I heard them, on these occasions, utter the words 'good
3452spirit,' 'wonderful'; but I did not then understand the signification
3453of these terms.
3454
3455"My thoughts now became more active, and I longed to discover the
3456motives and feelings of these lovely creatures; I was inquisitive to
3457know why Felix appeared so miserable and Agatha so sad.  I thought
3458(foolish wretch!) that it might be in my power to restore happiness to
3459these deserving people.  When I slept or was absent, the forms of the
3460venerable blind father, the gentle Agatha, and the excellent Felix
3461flitted before me.  I looked upon them as superior beings who would be
3462the arbiters of my future destiny.  I formed in my imagination a
3463thousand pictures of presenting myself to them, and their reception of
3464me.  I imagined that they would be disgusted, until, by my gentle
3465demeanour and conciliating words, I should first win their favour and
3466afterwards their love.
3467
3468"These thoughts exhilarated me and led me to apply with fresh ardour to
3469the acquiring the art of language.  My organs were indeed harsh, but
3470supple; and although my voice was very unlike the soft music of their
3471tones, yet I pronounced such words as I understood with tolerable ease.
3472It was as the ass and the lap-dog; yet surely the gentle ass whose
3473intentions were affectionate, although his manners were rude, deserved
3474better treatment than blows and execration.
3475
3476"The pleasant showers and genial warmth of spring greatly altered the
3477aspect of the earth.  Men who before this change seemed to have been
3478hid in caves dispersed themselves and were employed in various arts of
3479cultivation.  The birds sang in more cheerful notes, and the leaves
3480began to bud forth on the trees.  Happy, happy earth!  Fit habitation
3481for gods, which, so short a time before, was bleak, damp, and
3482unwholesome.  My spirits were elevated by the enchanting appearance of
3483nature; the past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil,
3484and the future gilded by bright rays of hope and anticipations of joy."
3485
3486
3487
3488Chapter 13
3489
3490"I now hasten to the more moving part of my story.  I shall relate
3491events that impressed me with feelings which, from what I had been,
3492have made me what I am.
3493
3494"Spring advanced rapidly; the weather became fine and the skies
3495cloudless.  It surprised me that what before was desert and gloomy
3496should now bloom with the most beautiful flowers and verdure.  My
3497senses were gratified and refreshed by a thousand scents of delight and
3498a thousand sights of beauty.
3499
3500"It was on one of these days, when my cottagers periodically rested
3501from labour--the old man played on his guitar, and the children
3502listened to him--that I observed the countenance of Felix was
3503melancholy beyond expression; he sighed frequently, and once his father
3504paused in his music, and I conjectured by his manner that he inquired
3505the cause of his son's sorrow.  Felix replied in a cheerful accent, and
3506the old man was recommencing his music when someone tapped at the door.
3507
3508"It was a lady on horseback, accompanied by a country-man as a guide.
3509The lady was dressed in a dark suit and covered with a thick black
3510veil.  Agatha asked a question, to which the stranger only replied by
3511pronouncing, in a sweet accent, the name of Felix.  Her voice was
3512musical but unlike that of either of my friends.  On hearing this word,
3513Felix came up hastily to the lady, who, when she saw him, threw up her
3514veil, and I beheld a countenance of angelic beauty and expression.  Her
3515hair of a shining raven black, and curiously braided; her eyes were
3516dark, but gentle, although animated; her features of a regular
3517proportion, and her complexion wondrously fair, each cheek tinged with
3518a lovely pink.
3519
3520"Felix seemed ravished with delight when he saw her, every trait of
3521sorrow vanished from his face, and it instantly expressed a degree of
3522ecstatic joy, of which I could hardly have believed it capable; his
3523eyes sparkled, as his cheek flushed with pleasure; and at that moment I
3524thought him as beautiful as the stranger.  She appeared affected by
3525different feelings; wiping a few tears from her lovely eyes, she held
3526out her hand to Felix, who kissed it rapturously and called her, as
3527well as I could distinguish, his sweet Arabian.  She did not appear to
3528understand him, but smiled.  He assisted her to dismount, and
3529dismissing her guide, conducted her into the cottage.  Some
3530conversation took place between him and his father, and the young
3531stranger knelt at the old man's feet and would have kissed his hand,
3532but he raised her and embraced her affectionately.
3533
3534"I soon perceived that although the stranger uttered articulate sounds
3535and appeared to have a language of her own, she was neither understood
3536by nor herself understood the cottagers.  They made many signs which I
3537did not comprehend, but I saw that her presence diffused gladness
3538through the cottage, dispelling their sorrow as the sun dissipates the
3539morning mists.  Felix seemed peculiarly happy and with smiles of
3540delight welcomed his Arabian.  Agatha, the ever-gentle Agatha, kissed
3541the hands of the lovely stranger, and pointing to her brother, made
3542signs which appeared to me to mean that he had been sorrowful until she
3543came.  Some hours passed thus, while they, by their countenances,
3544expressed joy, the cause of which I did not comprehend.  Presently I
3545found, by the frequent recurrence of some sound which the stranger
3546repeated after them, that she was endeavouring to learn their language;
3547and the idea instantly occurred to me that I should make use of the
3548same instructions to the same end.  The stranger learned about twenty
3549words at the first lesson; most of them, indeed, were those which I had
3550before understood, but I profited by the others.
3551
3552"As night came on, Agatha and the Arabian retired early.  When they
3553separated Felix kissed the hand of the stranger and said, 'Good night
3554sweet Safie.'  He sat up much longer, conversing with his father, and
3555by the frequent repetition of her name I conjectured that their lovely
3556guest was the subject of their conversation.  I ardently desired to
3557understand them, and bent every faculty towards that purpose, but found
3558it utterly impossible.
3559
3560"The next morning Felix went out to his work, and after the usual
3561occupations of Agatha were finished, the Arabian sat at the feet of the
3562old man, and taking his guitar, played some airs so entrancingly
3563beautiful that they at once drew tears of sorrow and delight from my
3564eyes.  She sang, and her voice flowed in a rich cadence, swelling or
3565dying away like a nightingale of the woods.
3566
3567"When she had finished, she gave the guitar to Agatha, who at first
3568declined it.  She played a simple air, and her voice accompanied it in
3569sweet accents, but unlike the wondrous strain of the stranger.  The old
3570man appeared enraptured and said some words which Agatha endeavoured to
3571explain to Safie, and by which he appeared to wish to express that she
3572bestowed on him the greatest delight by her music.
3573
3574"The days now passed as peaceably as before, with the sole alteration
3575that joy had taken place of sadness in the countenances of my friends.
3576Safie was always gay and happy; she and I improved rapidly in the
3577knowledge of language, so that in two months I began to comprehend most
3578of the words uttered by my protectors.
3579
3580"In the meanwhile also the black ground was covered with herbage, and
3581the green banks interspersed with innumerable flowers, sweet to the
3582scent and the eyes, stars of pale radiance among the moonlight woods;
3583the sun became warmer, the nights clear and balmy; and my nocturnal
3584rambles were an extreme pleasure to me, although they were considerably
3585shortened by the late setting and early rising of the sun, for I never
3586ventured abroad during daylight, fearful of meeting with the same
3587treatment I had formerly endured in the first village which I entered.
3588
3589"My days were spent in close attention, that I might more speedily
3590master the language; and I may boast that I improved more rapidly than
3591the Arabian, who understood very little and conversed in broken
3592accents, whilst I comprehended and could imitate almost every word that
3593was spoken.
3594
3595"While I improved in speech, I also learned the science of letters as
3596it was taught to the stranger, and this opened before me a wide field
3597for wonder and delight.
3598
3599"The book from which Felix instructed Safie was Volney's Ruins of
3600Empires.  I should not have understood the purport of this book had not
3601Felix, in reading it, given very minute explanations.  He had chosen
3602this work, he said, because the declamatory style was framed in
3603imitation of the Eastern authors.  Through this work I obtained a
3604cursory knowledge of history and a view of the several empires at
3605present existing in the world; it gave me an insight into the manners,
3606governments, and religions of the different nations of the earth.  I
3607heard of the slothful Asiatics, of the stupendous genius and mental
3608activity of the Grecians, of the wars and wonderful virtue of the early
3609Romans--of their subsequent degenerating--of the decline of that mighty
3610empire, of chivalry, Christianity, and kings.  I heard of the discovery
3611of the American hemisphere and wept with Safie over the hapless fate of
3612its original inhabitants.
3613
3614"These wonderful narrations inspired me with strange feelings.  Was
3615man, indeed, at once so powerful, so virtuous and magnificent, yet so
3616vicious and base?  He appeared at one time a mere scion of the evil
3617principle and at another as all that can be conceived of noble and
3618godlike.  To be a great and virtuous man appeared the highest honour
3619that can befall a sensitive being; to be base and vicious, as many on
3620record have been, appeared the lowest degradation, a condition more
3621abject than that of the blind mole or harmless worm.  For a long time I
3622could not conceive how one man could go forth to murder his fellow, or
3623even why there were laws and governments; but when I heard details of
3624vice and bloodshed, my wonder ceased and I turned away with disgust and
3625loathing.
3626
3627"Every conversation of the cottagers now opened new wonders to me.
3628While I listened to the instructions which Felix bestowed upon the
3629Arabian, the strange system of human society was explained to me.  I
3630heard of the division of property, of immense wealth and squalid
3631poverty, of rank, descent, and noble blood.
3632
3633"The words induced me to turn towards myself.  I learned that the
3634possessions most esteemed by your fellow creatures were high and
3635unsullied descent united with riches.  A man might be respected with
3636only one of these advantages, but without either he was considered,
3637except in very rare instances, as a vagabond and a slave, doomed to
3638waste his powers for the profits of the chosen few!  And what was I? Of
3639my creation and creator I was absolutely ignorant, but I knew that I
3640possessed no money, no friends, no kind of property.  I was, besides,
3641endued with a figure hideously deformed and loathsome; I was not even
3642of the same nature as man.  I was more agile than they and could
3643subsist upon coarser diet; I bore the extremes of heat and cold with
3644less injury to my frame; my stature far exceeded theirs.  When I looked
3645around I saw and heard of none like me.  Was I, then, a monster, a blot
3646upon the earth, from which all men fled and whom all men disowned?
3647
3648"I cannot describe to you the agony that these reflections inflicted
3649upon me; I tried to dispel them, but sorrow only increased with
3650knowledge.  Oh, that I had forever remained in my native wood, nor
3651known nor felt beyond the sensations of hunger, thirst, and heat!
3652
3653"Of what a strange nature is knowledge!  It clings to the mind when it
3654has once seized on it like a lichen on the rock.  I wished sometimes to
3655shake off all thought and feeling, but I learned that there was but one
3656means to overcome the sensation of pain, and that was death--a state
3657which I feared yet did not understand.  I admired virtue and good
3658feelings and loved the gentle manners and amiable qualities of my
3659cottagers, but I was shut out from intercourse with them, except
3660through means which I obtained by stealth, when I was unseen and
3661unknown, and which rather increased than satisfied the desire I had of
3662becoming one among my fellows.  The gentle words of Agatha and  the
3663animated smiles of the charming Arabian were not for me.  The mild
3664exhortations of the old man and the lively conversation of the loved
3665Felix were not for me. Miserable, unhappy wretch!
3666
3667"Other lessons were impressed upon me even more deeply.  I heard of the
3668difference of sexes, and the birth and growth of children, how the
3669father doted on the smiles of the infant, and the lively sallies of the
3670older child, how all the life and cares of the mother were wrapped up
3671in the precious charge, how the mind of youth expanded and gained
3672knowledge, of brother, sister, and all the various relationships which
3673bind one human being to another in mutual bonds.
3674
3675"But where were my friends and relations?  No father had watched my
3676infant days, no mother had blessed me with smiles and caresses; or if
3677they had, all my past life was now a blot, a blind vacancy in which I
3678distinguished nothing.  From my earliest remembrance I had been as I
3679then was in height and proportion.  I had never yet seen a being
3680resembling me or who claimed any intercourse with me.  What was I?  The
3681question again recurred, to be answered only with groans.
3682
3683"I will soon explain to what these feelings tended, but allow me now to
3684return to the cottagers, whose story excited in me such various
3685feelings of indignation, delight, and wonder, but which all terminated
3686in additional love and reverence for my protectors (for so I loved, in
3687an innocent, half-painful self-deceit, to call them)."
3688
3689
3690
3691Chapter 14
3692
3693"Some time elapsed before I learned the history of my friends.  It was
3694one which could not fail to impress itself deeply on my mind, unfolding
3695as it did a number of circumstances, each interesting and wonderful to
3696one so utterly inexperienced as I was.
3697
3698"The name of the old man was De Lacey.  He was descended from a good
3699family in France, where he had lived for many years in affluence,
3700respected by his superiors and beloved by his equals.  His son was bred
3701in the service of his country, and Agatha had ranked with ladies of the
3702highest distinction.  A few months before my arrival they had lived in
3703a large and luxurious city called Paris, surrounded by friends and
3704possessed of every enjoyment which virtue, refinement of intellect, or
3705taste, accompanied by a moderate fortune, could afford.
3706
3707"The father of Safie had been the cause of their ruin.  He was a
3708Turkish merchant and had inhabited Paris for many years, when, for some
3709reason which I could not learn, he became obnoxious to the government.
3710He was seized and cast into prison the very day that Safie arrived from
3711Constantinople to join him.  He was tried and condemned to death.  The
3712injustice of his sentence was very flagrant; all Paris was indignant;
3713and it was judged that his religion and wealth rather than the crime
3714alleged against him had been the cause of his condemnation.
3715
3716"Felix had accidentally been present at the trial; his horror and
3717indignation were uncontrollable when he heard the decision of the
3718court.  He made, at that moment, a solemn vow to deliver him and then
3719looked around for the means.  After many fruitless attempts to gain
3720admittance to the prison, he found a strongly grated window in an
3721unguarded part of the building, which lighted the dungeon of the
3722unfortunate Muhammadan, who, loaded with chains, waited in despair the
3723execution of the barbarous sentence.  Felix visited the grate at night
3724and made known to the prisoner his intentions in his favour.  The Turk,
3725amazed and delighted, endeavoured to kindle the zeal of his deliverer
3726by promises of reward and wealth.  Felix rejected his offers with
3727contempt, yet when he saw the lovely Safie, who was allowed to visit
3728her father and who by her gestures expressed her lively gratitude, the
3729youth could not help owning to his own mind that the captive possessed
3730a treasure which would fully reward his toil and hazard.
3731
3732"The Turk quickly perceived the impression that his daughter had made
3733on the heart of Felix and endeavoured to secure him more entirely in
3734his interests by the promise of her hand in marriage so soon as he
3735should be conveyed to a place of safety.  Felix was too delicate to
3736accept this offer, yet he looked forward to the probability of the
3737event as to the consummation of his happiness.
3738
3739"During the ensuing days, while the preparations were going forward for
3740the escape of the merchant, the zeal of Felix was warmed by several
3741letters that he received from this lovely girl, who found means to
3742express her thoughts in the language of her lover by the aid of an old
3743man, a servant of her father who understood French.  She thanked him in
3744the most ardent terms for his intended services towards her parent, and
3745at the same time she gently deplored her own fate.
3746
3747"I have copies of these letters, for I found means, during my residence
3748in the hovel, to procure the implements of writing; and the letters
3749were often in the hands of Felix or Agatha.  Before I depart I will
3750give them to you; they will prove the truth of my tale; but at present,
3751as the sun is already far declined, I shall only have time to repeat
3752the substance of them to you.
3753
3754"Safie related that her mother was a Christian Arab, seized and made a
3755slave by the Turks; recommended by her beauty, she had won the heart of
3756the father of Safie, who married her.  The young girl spoke in high and
3757enthusiastic terms of her mother, who, born in freedom, spurned the
3758bondage to which she was now reduced.  She instructed her daughter in
3759the tenets of her religion and taught her to aspire to higher powers of
3760intellect and an independence of spirit forbidden to the female
3761followers of Muhammad.  This lady died, but her lessons were indelibly
3762impressed on the mind of Safie, who sickened at the prospect of again
3763returning to Asia and being immured within the walls of a harem,
3764allowed only to occupy herself with infantile amusements, ill-suited to
3765the temper of her soul, now accustomed to grand ideas and a noble
3766emulation for virtue.  The prospect of marrying a Christian and
3767remaining in a country where women were allowed to take a rank in
3768society was enchanting to her.
3769
3770"The day for the execution of the Turk was fixed, but on the night
3771previous to it he quitted his prison and before morning was distant
3772many leagues from Paris.  Felix had procured passports in the name of
3773his father, sister, and himself.  He had previously communicated his
3774plan to the former, who aided the deceit by quitting his house, under
3775the pretence of a journey and concealed himself, with his daughter, in
3776an obscure part of Paris.
3777
3778"Felix conducted the fugitives through France to Lyons and across Mont
3779Cenis to Leghorn, where the merchant had decided to wait a favourable
3780opportunity of passing into some part of the Turkish dominions.
3781
3782"Safie resolved to remain with her father until the moment of his
3783departure, before which time the Turk renewed his promise that she
3784should be united to his deliverer; and Felix remained with them in
3785expectation of that event; and in the meantime he enjoyed the society
3786of the Arabian, who exhibited towards him the simplest and tenderest
3787affection.  They conversed with one another through the means of an
3788interpreter, and sometimes with the interpretation of looks; and Safie
3789sang to him the divine airs of her native country.
3790
3791"The Turk allowed this intimacy to take place and encouraged the hopes
3792of the youthful lovers, while in his heart he had formed far other
3793plans.  He loathed the idea that his daughter should be united to a
3794Christian, but he feared the resentment of Felix if he should appear
3795lukewarm, for he knew that he was still in the power of his deliverer
3796if he should choose to betray him to the Italian state which they
3797inhabited.  He revolved a thousand plans by which he should be enabled
3798to prolong the deceit until it might be no longer necessary, and
3799secretly to take his daughter with him when he departed.  His plans
3800were facilitated by the news which arrived from Paris.
3801
3802"The government of France were greatly enraged at the escape of their
3803victim and spared no pains to detect and punish his deliverer.  The
3804plot of Felix was quickly discovered, and De Lacey and Agatha were
3805thrown into prison.  The news reached Felix and roused him from his
3806dream of pleasure.  His blind and aged father and his gentle sister lay
3807in a noisome dungeon while he enjoyed the free air and the society of
3808her whom he loved.  This idea was torture to him.  He quickly arranged
3809with the Turk that if the latter should find a favourable opportunity
3810for escape before Felix could return to Italy, Safie should remain as a
3811boarder at a convent at Leghorn; and then, quitting the lovely Arabian,
3812he hastened to Paris and delivered himself up to the vengeance of the
3813law, hoping to free De Lacey and Agatha by this proceeding.
3814
3815"He did not succeed.  They remained confined for five months before the
3816trial took place, the result of which deprived them of their fortune
3817and condemned them to a perpetual exile from their native country.
3818
3819"They found a miserable asylum in the cottage in Germany, where I
3820discovered them.  Felix soon learned that the treacherous Turk, for
3821whom he and his family endured such unheard-of oppression, on
3822discovering that his deliverer was thus reduced to poverty and ruin,
3823became a traitor to good feeling and honour and had quitted Italy with
3824his daughter, insultingly sending Felix a pittance of money to aid him,
3825as he said, in some plan of future maintenance.
3826
3827"Such were the events that preyed on the heart of Felix and rendered
3828him, when I first saw him, the most miserable of his family.  He could
3829have endured poverty, and while this distress had been the meed of his
3830virtue, he gloried in it; but the ingratitude of the Turk and the loss
3831of his beloved Safie were misfortunes more bitter and irreparable.  The
3832arrival of the Arabian now infused new life into his soul.
3833
3834"When the news reached Leghorn that Felix was deprived of his wealth
3835and rank, the merchant commanded his daughter to think no more of her
3836lover, but to prepare to return to her native country.  The generous
3837nature of Safie was outraged by this command; she attempted to
3838expostulate with her father, but he left her angrily, reiterating his
3839tyrannical mandate.
3840
3841"A few days after, the Turk entered his daughter's apartment and told
3842her hastily that he had reason to believe that his residence at Leghorn
3843had been divulged and that he should speedily be delivered up to the
3844French government; he had consequently hired a vessel to convey him to
3845Constantinople, for which city he should sail in a few hours.  He
3846intended to leave his daughter under the care of a confidential
3847servant, to follow at her leisure with the greater part of his
3848property, which had not yet arrived at Leghorn.
3849
3850"When alone, Safie resolved in her own mind the plan of conduct that it
3851would become her to pursue in this emergency.  A residence in Turkey
3852was abhorrent to her; her religion and her feelings were alike averse
3853to it.  By some papers of her father which fell into her hands she
3854heard of the exile of her lover and learnt the name of the spot where
3855he then resided.  She hesitated some time, but at length she formed her
3856determination.  Taking with her some jewels that belonged to her and a
3857sum of money, she quitted Italy with an attendant, a native of Leghorn,
3858but who understood the common language of Turkey, and departed for
3859Germany.
3860
3861"She arrived in safety at a town about twenty leagues from the cottage
3862of De Lacey, when her attendant fell dangerously ill.  Safie nursed her
3863with the most devoted affection, but the poor girl died, and the
3864Arabian was left alone, unacquainted with the language of the country
3865and utterly ignorant of the customs of the world.  She fell, however,
3866into good hands.  The Italian had mentioned the name of the spot for
3867which they were bound, and after her death the woman of the house in
3868which they had lived took care that Safie should arrive in safety at
3869the cottage of her lover."
3870
3871
3872
3873Chapter 15
3874
3875"Such was the history of my beloved cottagers.  It impressed me deeply.
3876I learned, from the views of social life which it developed, to admire
3877their virtues and to deprecate the vices of mankind.
3878
3879"As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil, benevolence and
3880generosity were ever present before me, inciting within me a desire to
3881become an actor in the busy scene where so many admirable qualities
3882were called forth and displayed.  But in giving an account of the
3883progress of my intellect, I must not omit a circumstance which occurred
3884in the beginning of the month of August of the same year.
3885
3886"One night during my accustomed visit to the neighbouring wood where I
3887collected my own food and brought home firing for my protectors, I
3888found on the ground a leathern portmanteau containing several articles
3889of dress and some books.  I eagerly seized the prize and returned with
3890it to my hovel.  Fortunately the books were written in the language,
3891the elements of which I had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of
3892Paradise Lost, a volume of Plutarch's Lives, and the Sorrows of Werter.
3893The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I now
3894continually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories, whilst
3895my friends were employed in their ordinary occupations.
3896
3897"I can hardly describe to you the effect of these books.  They produced
3898in me an infinity of new images and feelings, that sometimes raised me
3899to ecstasy, but more frequently sunk me into the lowest dejection.  In
3900the Sorrows of Werter, besides the interest of its simple and affecting
3901story, so many opinions are canvassed and so many lights thrown upon
3902what had hitherto been to me obscure subjects that I found in it a
3903never-ending source of speculation and astonishment.  The gentle and
3904domestic manners it described, combined with lofty sentiments and
3905feelings, which had for their object something out of self, accorded
3906well with my experience among my protectors and with the wants which
3907were forever alive in my own bosom.  But I thought Werter himself a
3908more divine being than I had ever beheld or imagined; his character
3909contained no pretension, but it sank deep.  The disquisitions upon
3910death and suicide were calculated to fill  me with wonder.  I did not
3911pretend to enter into the merits of the case, yet I inclined towards
3912the opinions of the hero, whose extinction I wept, without precisely
3913understanding it.
3914
3915"As I read, however, I applied much personally to my own feelings and
3916condition.  I found myself similar yet at the same time strangely
3917unlike to the beings concerning whom I read and to whose conversation I
3918was a listener.  I sympathized with and partly understood them, but I
3919was unformed in mind; I was dependent on none and related to none.
3920'The path of my departure was free,' and there was none to lament my
3921annihilation.  My person was hideous and my stature gigantic.  What did
3922this mean?  Who was I?  What was I?  Whence did I come?  What was my
3923destination?  These questions continually recurred, but I was unable to
3924solve them.
3925
3926"The volume of Plutarch's Lives which I possessed contained the
3927histories of the first founders of the ancient republics.  This book
3928had a far different effect upon me from the Sorrows of Werter.  I
3929learned from Werter's imaginations despondency and gloom, but Plutarch
3930taught me high thoughts; he elevated me above the wretched sphere of my
3931own reflections, to admire and love the heroes of past ages.  Many
3932things I read surpassed my understanding and experience.  I had a very
3933confused knowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of country, mighty rivers,
3934and boundless seas.  But I was perfectly unacquainted with towns and
3935large assemblages of men. The cottage of my protectors had been the
3936only school in which I had studied human nature, but this book
3937developed new and mightier scenes of action.  I read of men concerned
3938in public affairs, governing or massacring their species.  I felt the
3939greatest ardour for virtue rise within me, and abhorrence for vice, as
3940far as I understood the signification of those terms, relative as they
3941were, as I applied them, to pleasure and pain alone.  Induced by these
3942feelings, I was of course led to admire peaceable lawgivers, Numa,
3943Solon, and Lycurgus, in preference to Romulus and Theseus.  The
3944patriarchal lives of my protectors caused these impressions to take a
3945firm hold on my mind; perhaps, if my first introduction to humanity had
3946been made by a young soldier, burning for glory and slaughter, I should
3947have been imbued with different sensations.
3948
3949"But Paradise Lost excited different and far deeper emotions.  I read
3950it, as I had read the other volumes which had fallen into my hands, as
3951a true history.  It moved every feeling of wonder and awe that the
3952picture of an omnipotent God warring with his creatures was capable of
3953exciting.  I often referred the several situations, as their similarity
3954struck me, to my own.  Like Adam, I was apparently united by no link to
3955any other being in existence; but his state was far different from mine
3956in every other respect.  He had come forth from the hands of God a
3957perfect creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of
3958his Creator; he was allowed to converse with and acquire knowledge from
3959beings of a superior nature, but I was wretched, helpless, and alone.
3960Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition, for
3961often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter
3962gall of envy rose within me.
3963
3964"Another circumstance strengthened and confirmed these feelings.  Soon
3965after my arrival in the hovel I discovered some papers in the pocket of
3966the dress which I had taken from your laboratory.  At first I had
3967neglected them, but now that I was able to decipher the characters in
3968which they were written, I began to study them with diligence.  It was
3969your journal of the four months that preceded my creation.  You
3970minutely described in these papers every step you took in the progress
3971of your work; this history was mingled with accounts of domestic
3972occurrences.  You doubtless recollect these papers.  Here they are.
3973Everything is related in them which bears reference to my accursed
3974origin; the whole detail of that series of disgusting circumstances
3975which produced it is set in view; the minutest description of my odious
3976and loathsome person is given, in language which painted your own
3977horrors and rendered mine indelible.  I sickened as I read.  'Hateful
3978day when I received life!' I exclaimed in agony.  'Accursed creator!
3979Why did you form a monster so hideous that even YOU turned from me in
3980disgust?  God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own
3981image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the
3982very resemblance.  Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire
3983and encourage him, but I am solitary and abhorred.'
3984
3985"These were the reflections of my hours of despondency and solitude;
3986but when I contemplated the virtues of the cottagers, their amiable and
3987benevolent dispositions, I persuaded myself that when they should
3988become acquainted with my admiration of their virtues they  would
3989compassionate me and overlook my personal deformity.  Could they turn
3990from their door one, however monstrous, who solicited their compassion
3991and friendship?  I resolved, at least, not to despair, but in every way
3992to fit myself for an interview with them which would decide my fate.  I
3993postponed this attempt for some months longer, for the importance
3994attached to its success inspired me with a dread lest I should fail.
3995Besides, I found that my understanding improved so much with every
3996day's experience that I was unwilling to commence this undertaking
3997until a few more months should have added to my sagacity.
3998
3999"Several changes, in the meantime, took place in the cottage.  The
4000presence of Safie diffused happiness among its inhabitants, and I also
4001found that a greater degree of plenty reigned there.  Felix and Agatha
4002spent more time in amusement and conversation, and were assisted in
4003their labours by servants.  They did not appear rich, but they were
4004contented and happy; their feelings were serene and peaceful, while
4005mine became every day more tumultuous.  Increase of knowledge only
4006discovered to me more clearly what a wretched outcast I was.  I
4007cherished hope, it is true, but it vanished when I beheld my person
4008reflected in water or my shadow in the moonshine, even as that frail
4009image and that inconstant shade.
4010
4011"I endeavoured to crush these fears and to fortify myself for the trial
4012which in a few months I resolved to undergo; and sometimes I allowed my
4013thoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of Paradise, and
4014dared to fancy amiable and lovely creatures sympathizing with my
4015feelings and cheering my gloom; their angelic countenances breathed
4016smiles of consolation.  But it was all a dream; no Eve soothed my
4017sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone.  I remembered Adam's
4018supplication to his Creator.  But where was mine?  He had abandoned me,
4019and in the bitterness of my heart I cursed him.
4020
4021"Autumn passed thus.  I saw, with surprise and grief, the leaves decay
4022and fall, and nature again assume the barren and bleak appearance it
4023had worn when I first beheld the woods and the lovely moon.  Yet I did
4024not heed the bleakness of the weather; I was better fitted by my
4025conformation for the endurance of cold than heat.  But my chief
4026delights were the sight of the flowers, the birds, and all the gay
4027apparel of summer; when those deserted me, I turned with more attention
4028towards the cottagers.  Their happiness was not decreased by the
4029absence of summer.  They loved and sympathized with one another; and
4030their joys, depending on each other, were not interrupted by the
4031casualties that took place around them.  The more I saw of them, the
4032greater became my desire to claim their protection and kindness; my
4033heart yearned to be known and loved by these amiable creatures; to see
4034their sweet looks directed towards me with affection was the utmost
4035limit of my ambition.  I dared not think that they would turn them from
4036me with disdain and horror.  The poor that stopped at their door were
4037never driven away.  I asked, it is true, for greater treasures than a
4038little food or rest:  I required kindness and sympathy; but I did not
4039believe myself utterly unworthy of it.
4040
4041"The winter advanced, and an entire revolution of the seasons had taken
4042place since I awoke into life.  My attention at this time was solely
4043directed towards my plan of introducing myself into the cottage of my
4044protectors.  I revolved many projects, but that on which I finally
4045fixed was to enter the dwelling when the blind old man should be alone.
4046I had sagacity enough to discover that the unnatural hideousness of my
4047person was the chief object of horror with those who had formerly
4048beheld me.  My voice, although harsh, had nothing terrible in it; I
4049thought, therefore, that if in the absence of his children I could gain
4050the good will and mediation of the old De Lacey, I might by his means
4051be tolerated by my younger protectors.
4052
4053"One day, when the sun shone on the red leaves that strewed the ground
4054and diffused cheerfulness, although it denied warmth, Safie, Agatha,
4055and Felix departed on a long country walk, and the old man, at his own
4056desire, was left alone in the cottage.  When his children had departed,
4057he took up his guitar and played several mournful but sweet airs, more
4058sweet and mournful than I had ever heard him play before.  At first his
4059countenance was illuminated with pleasure, but as he continued,
4060thoughtfulness and sadness succeeded; at length, laying aside the
4061instrument, he sat absorbed in reflection.
4062
4063"My heart beat quick; this was the hour and moment of trial, which
4064would decide my hopes or realize my fears.  The servants were gone to a
4065neighbouring fair.  All was silent in and around the cottage; it was an
4066excellent opportunity; yet, when I proceeded to execute my plan, my
4067limbs failed me and I sank to the ground.  Again I rose, and exerting
4068all the firmness of which I was master, removed the planks which I had
4069placed before my hovel to conceal my retreat.  The fresh air revived
4070me, and with renewed determination I approached the door of their
4071cottage.
4072
4073"I knocked.  'Who is there?' said the old man.  'Come in.'
4074
4075"I entered.  'Pardon this intrusion,' said I; 'I am a traveller in want
4076of a little rest; you would greatly oblige me if you would allow me to
4077remain a few minutes before the fire.'
4078
4079"'Enter,' said De Lacey, 'and I will try in what manner I can to
4080relieve your wants; but, unfortunately, my children are from home, and
4081as I am blind, I am afraid I shall find it difficult to procure food
4082for you.'
4083
4084"'Do not trouble yourself, my kind host; I have food; it is warmth and
4085rest only that I need.'
4086
4087"I sat down, and a silence ensued.  I knew that every minute was
4088precious to me, yet I remained irresolute in what manner to commence
4089the interview, when the old man addressed me.  'By your language,
4090stranger, I suppose you are my countryman; are you French?'
4091
4092"'No; but I was educated by a French family and understand that
4093language only.  I am now going to claim the protection of some friends,
4094whom I sincerely love, and of whose favour I have some hopes.'
4095
4096"'Are they Germans?'
4097
4098"'No, they are French.  But let us change the subject.  I am an
4099unfortunate and deserted creature, I look around and I have no relation
4100or friend upon earth.  These amiable people to whom I go have never
4101seen me and know little of me.  I am full of fears, for if I fail
4102there, I am an outcast in the world forever.'
4103
4104"'Do not despair.  To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate, but
4105the hearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self-interest, are
4106full of brotherly love and charity.  Rely, therefore, on your hopes;
4107and if these friends are good and amiable, do not despair.'
4108
4109"'They are kind--they are the most excellent creatures in the world;
4110but, unfortunately, they are prejudiced against me.  I have good
4111dispositions; my life has been hitherto harmless and in some degree
4112beneficial; but a fatal prejudice clouds their eyes, and where they
4113ought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestable
4114monster.'
4115
4116"'That is indeed unfortunate; but if you are really blameless, cannot
4117you undeceive them?'
4118
4119"'I am about to undertake that task; and it is on that account that I
4120feel so many overwhelming terrors.  I tenderly love these friends; I
4121have, unknown to them, been for many months in the habits of daily
4122kindness towards them; but they believe that I wish to injure them, and
4123it is that prejudice which I wish to overcome.'
4124
4125"'Where do these friends reside?'
4126
4127"'Near this spot.'
4128
4129"The old man paused and then continued, 'If you will unreservedly
4130confide to me the particulars of your tale, I perhaps may be of use in
4131undeceiving them.  I am blind and cannot judge of your countenance, but
4132there is something in your words which persuades me that you are
4133sincere.  I am poor and an exile, but it will afford me true pleasure
4134to be in any way serviceable to a human creature.'
4135
4136"'Excellent man!  I thank you and accept your generous offer.  You
4137raise me from the dust by this kindness; and I trust that, by your aid,
4138I shall not be driven from the society and sympathy of your fellow
4139creatures.'
4140
4141"'Heaven forbid!  Even if you were really criminal, for that can only
4142drive you to desperation, and not instigate you to virtue.  I also am
4143unfortunate; I and my family have been condemned, although innocent;
4144judge, therefore, if I do not feel for your misfortunes.'
4145
4146"'How can I thank you, my best and only benefactor?  From your lips
4147first have I heard the voice of kindness directed towards me; I shall
4148be forever grateful; and your present humanity assures me of success
4149with those friends whom I am on the point of meeting.'
4150
4151"'May I know the names and residence of those friends?'
4152
4153"I paused. This, I thought, was the moment of decision, which was to
4154rob me of or bestow happiness on me forever.  I struggled vainly for
4155firmness sufficient to answer him, but the effort destroyed all my
4156remaining strength; I sank on the chair and sobbed aloud.  At that
4157moment I heard the steps of my younger protectors.  I had not a moment
4158to lose, but seizing the hand of the old man, I cried, 'Now is the
4159time!  Save and protect me!  You and your family are the friends whom I
4160seek.  Do not you desert me in the hour of trial!'
4161
4162"'Great God!' exclaimed the old man.  'Who are you?'
4163
4164"At that instant the cottage door was opened, and Felix, Safie, and
4165Agatha entered.  Who can describe their horror and consternation on
4166beholding me?  Agatha fainted, and Safie, unable to attend to her
4167friend, rushed out of the cottage.  Felix darted forward, and with
4168supernatural force tore me from his father, to whose knees I clung, in
4169a transport of fury, he dashed me to the ground and struck me violently
4170with a stick.  I could have torn him limb from limb, as the lion rends
4171the antelope.  But my heart sank within me as with bitter sickness, and
4172I refrained.  I saw him on the point of repeating his blow, when,
4173overcome by pain and anguish, I quitted the cottage, and in the general
4174tumult escaped unperceived to my hovel."
4175
4176
4177
4178Chapter 16
4179
4180"Cursed, cursed creator!  Why did I live?  Why, in that instant, did I
4181not extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly
4182bestowed?  I know not; despair had not yet taken possession of me; my
4183feelings were those of rage and revenge.  I could with pleasure have
4184destroyed the cottage and its inhabitants and have glutted myself with
4185their shrieks and misery.
4186
4187"When night came I quitted my retreat and wandered in the wood; and
4188now, no longer restrained by the fear of discovery, I gave vent to my
4189anguish in fearful howlings.  I was like a wild beast that had broken
4190the toils, destroying the objects that obstructed me and ranging
4191through the wood with a stag-like swiftness.  Oh!  What a miserable
4192night I passed!  The cold stars shone in mockery, and the bare trees
4193waved their branches above me; now and then the sweet voice of a bird
4194burst forth amidst the universal stillness.  All, save I, were at rest
4195or in enjoyment; I, like the arch-fiend, bore a hell within me, and
4196finding myself unsympathized with, wished to tear up the trees, spread
4197havoc and destruction around me, and then to have sat down and enjoyed
4198the ruin.
4199
4200"But this was a luxury of sensation that could not endure; I became
4201fatigued with excess of bodily exertion and sank on the damp grass in
4202the sick impotence of despair.  There was none among the myriads of men
4203that existed who would pity or assist me; and should I feel kindness
4204towards my enemies?  No; from that moment I declared everlasting war
4205against the species, and more than all, against him who had formed me
4206and sent me forth to this insupportable misery.
4207
4208"The sun rose; I heard the voices of men and knew that it was
4209impossible to return to my retreat during that day.  Accordingly I hid
4210myself in some thick underwood, determining to devote the ensuing hours
4211to reflection on my situation.
4212
4213"The pleasant sunshine and the pure air of day restored me to some
4214degree of tranquillity; and when I considered what had passed at the
4215cottage, I could not help believing that I had been too hasty in my
4216conclusions.  I had certainly acted imprudently.  It was apparent that
4217my conversation had interested the father in my behalf, and  I was a
4218fool in having exposed my person to the horror of his children.  I
4219ought to have familiarized the old De Lacey to me, and by degrees to
4220have discovered myself to the rest of his family, when they should have
4221been  prepared for my approach.  But I did not believe my errors to be
4222irretrievable, and after much consideration I resolved to return to the
4223cottage, seek the old man, and by my representations win him to my
4224party.
4225
4226"These thoughts calmed me, and in the afternoon I sank into a profound
4227sleep; but the fever of my blood did not allow me to be visited by
4228peaceful dreams.  The horrible scene of the preceding day was forever
4229acting before my eyes; the females were flying and the enraged Felix
4230tearing me from his father's feet.  I awoke exhausted, and finding that
4231it was already night, I crept forth from my hiding-place, and went in
4232search of food.
4233
4234"When my hunger was appeased, I directed my steps towards the
4235well-known path that conducted to the cottage.  All there was at peace.
4236I crept into my hovel and remained in silent expectation of the
4237accustomed hour when the family arose.  That hour passed, the sun
4238mounted high in the heavens, but the cottagers did not appear.  I
4239trembled violently, apprehending some dreadful misfortune.  The inside
4240of the cottage was dark, and I heard no motion; I cannot describe the
4241agony of this suspense.
4242
4243"Presently two countrymen passed by, but pausing near the cottage, they
4244entered into conversation, using violent gesticulations; but I did not
4245understand what they said, as they spoke the language of the country,
4246which differed from that of my protectors.  Soon after, however, Felix
4247approached with another man; I was surprised, as I knew that he had not
4248quitted the cottage that morning, and waited anxiously to discover from
4249his discourse the meaning of these unusual appearances.
4250
4251"'Do you consider,' said his companion to him, 'that you will be
4252obliged to pay three months' rent and to lose the produce of your
4253garden?  I do not wish to take any unfair advantage, and I beg
4254therefore that you will take some days to consider of your
4255determination.'
4256
4257"'It is utterly useless,' replied Felix; 'we can never again inhabit
4258your cottage.  The life of my father is in the greatest danger, owing
4259to the dreadful circumstance that I have related.  My wife and my
4260sister will never recover from their horror.  I entreat you not to
4261reason with me any more.  Take possession of your tenement and let me
4262fly from this place.'
4263
4264"Felix trembled violently as he said this.  He and his companion
4265entered the cottage, in which they remained for a few minutes, and then
4266departed.  I never saw any of the family of De Lacey more.
4267
4268"I continued for the remainder of the day in my hovel in a state of
4269utter and stupid despair.  My protectors had departed and had broken
4270the only link that held me to the world.  For the first time the
4271feelings of revenge and hatred filled my bosom, and I did not strive to
4272control them, but allowing myself to be borne away by the stream, I
4273bent my mind towards injury and death.  When I thought of my friends,
4274of the mild voice of De Lacey, the gentle eyes of Agatha, and the
4275exquisite beauty of the Arabian, these thoughts vanished and a gush of
4276tears somewhat soothed me.  But again when I reflected that they had
4277spurned and deserted me, anger returned, a rage of anger, and unable to
4278injure anything human, I turned my fury towards inanimate objects.  As
4279night advanced I placed a variety of combustibles around the cottage,
4280and after having destroyed every vestige of cultivation in the garden,
4281I waited with forced impatience until the moon had sunk to commence my
4282operations.
4283
4284"As the night advanced, a fierce wind arose from the woods and quickly
4285dispersed the clouds that had loitered in the heavens; the blast tore
4286along like a mighty avalanche and produced a kind of insanity in my
4287spirits that burst all bounds of reason and reflection.  I lighted the
4288dry branch of a tree and danced with fury around the devoted cottage,
4289my eyes still fixed on the western horizon, the edge of which the moon
4290nearly touched.  A part of its orb was at length hid, and I waved my
4291brand; it sank, and with a loud scream I fired the straw, and heath,
4292and bushes, which I had collected.  The wind fanned the fire, and the
4293cottage was quickly enveloped by the flames, which clung to it and
4294licked it with their forked and destroying tongues.
4295
4296"As soon as I was convinced that no assistance could save any part of
4297the habitation, I quitted the scene and sought for refuge in the woods.
4298
4299"And now, with the world before me, whither should I bend my steps?  I
4300resolved to fly far from the scene of my misfortunes; but to me, hated
4301and despised, every country must be equally horrible.  At length the
4302thought of you crossed my mind.  I learned from your papers that you
4303were my father, my creator; and to whom could I apply with more fitness
4304than to him who had given me life?  Among the lessons that Felix had
4305bestowed upon Safie, geography had not been omitted; I had learned from
4306these the relative situations of the different countries of the earth.
4307You had mentioned Geneva as the name of your native town, and towards
4308this place I resolved to proceed.
4309
4310"But how was I to direct myself?  I knew that I must travel in a
4311southwesterly direction to reach my destination, but the sun was my
4312only guide.  I did not know the names of the towns that I was to pass
4313through, nor could I ask information from a single human being; but I
4314did not despair.  From you only could I hope for succour, although
4315towards you I felt no sentiment but that of hatred.  Unfeeling,
4316heartless creator!  You had endowed me with perceptions and passions
4317and then cast me abroad an object for the scorn and horror of mankind.
4318But on you only had I any claim for pity and redress, and from you I
4319determined to seek that justice which I vainly attempted to gain from
4320any other being that wore the human form.
4321
4322"My travels were long and the sufferings I endured intense.  It was
4323late in autumn when I quitted the district where I had so long resided.
4324I travelled only at night, fearful of encountering the visage of a
4325human being.  Nature decayed around me, and the sun became heatless;
4326rain and snow poured around me; mighty rivers were frozen; the surface
4327of the earth was hard and chill, and bare, and I found no shelter.  Oh,
4328earth!  How often did I imprecate curses on the cause of my being!  The
4329mildness of my nature had fled, and all within me was turned to gall
4330and bitterness.  The nearer I approached to your habitation, the more
4331deeply did I feel the spirit of revenge enkindled in my heart.  Snow
4332fell, and the waters were hardened, but I rested not.  A few incidents
4333now and then directed me, and I possessed a map of the country; but I
4334often wandered wide from my path.  The agony of my feelings allowed me
4335no respite; no incident occurred from which my rage and misery could
4336not extract its food; but a circumstance that happened when I arrived
4337on the confines of Switzerland, when the sun had recovered its warmth
4338and the earth again began to look green, confirmed in an especial
4339manner the bitterness and horror of my feelings.
4340
4341"I generally rested during the day and travelled only when I was
4342secured by night from the view of man.  One morning, however, finding
4343that my path lay through a deep wood, I ventured to continue my journey
4344after the sun had risen; the day, which was one of the first of spring,
4345cheered even me by the loveliness of its sunshine and the balminess of
4346the air.  I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure, that had long
4347appeared dead, revive within me.  Half surprised by the novelty of
4348these sensations, I allowed myself to be borne away by them, and
4349forgetting my solitude and deformity, dared to be happy.  Soft tears
4350again bedewed my cheeks, and I even raised my humid eyes with
4351thankfulness towards the blessed sun, which bestowed such joy upon me.
4352
4353"I continued to wind among the paths of the wood, until I came to its
4354boundary, which was skirted by a deep and rapid river, into which many
4355of the trees bent their branches, now budding with the fresh spring.
4356Here I paused, not exactly knowing what path to pursue, when I heard
4357the sound of voices, that induced me to conceal myself under the shade
4358of a cypress.  I was scarcely hid when a young girl came running
4359towards the spot where I was concealed, laughing, as if she ran from
4360someone in sport.  She continued her course along the precipitous sides
4361of the river, when suddenly her foot slipped, and she fell into the
4362rapid stream.  I rushed from my hiding-place and with extreme labour,
4363from the force of the current, saved her and dragged her to shore.  She
4364was senseless, and I endeavoured by every means in my power to restore
4365animation, when I was suddenly interrupted by the approach of a rustic,
4366who was probably the person from whom she had playfully fled.  On
4367seeing me, he darted towards me, and tearing the girl from my arms,
4368hastened towards the deeper parts of the wood.  I followed speedily, I
4369hardly knew why; but when the man saw me draw near, he aimed a gun,
4370which he carried, at my body and fired.  I sank to the ground, and my
4371injurer, with increased swiftness, escaped into the wood.
4372
4373"This was then the reward of my benevolence!  I had saved a human being
4374from destruction, and as a recompense I now writhed under the miserable
4375pain of a wound which shattered the flesh and bone.  The feelings of
4376kindness and gentleness which I had entertained but a few moments
4377before gave place to hellish rage and gnashing of teeth.  Inflamed by
4378pain, I vowed eternal hatred and vengeance to all mankind.  But the
4379agony of my wound overcame me; my pulses paused, and I fainted.
4380
4381"For some weeks I led a miserable life in the woods, endeavouring to
4382cure the wound which I had received.  The ball had entered my shoulder,
4383and I knew not whether it had remained there or passed through; at any
4384rate I had no means of extracting it.  My sufferings were augmented
4385also by the oppressive sense of the injustice and ingratitude of their
4386infliction.  My daily vows rose for revenge--a deep and deadly revenge,
4387such as would alone compensate for the outrages and anguish I had
4388endured.
4389
4390"After some weeks my wound healed, and I continued my journey.  The
4391labours I endured were no longer to be alleviated by the bright sun or
4392gentle breezes of spring; all joy was but a mockery which insulted my
4393desolate state and made me feel more painfully that I was not made for
4394the enjoyment of pleasure.
4395
4396"But my toils now drew near a close, and in two months from this time I
4397reached the environs of Geneva.
4398
4399"It was evening when I arrived, and I retired to a hiding-place among
4400the fields that surround it to meditate in what manner I should apply
4401to you.  I was oppressed by fatigue and hunger and far too unhappy to
4402enjoy the gentle breezes of evening or the prospect of the sun setting
4403behind the stupendous mountains of Jura.
4404
4405"At this time a slight sleep relieved me from the pain of reflection,
4406which was disturbed by the approach of a beautiful child, who came
4407running into the recess I had chosen, with all the sportiveness of
4408infancy.  Suddenly, as I gazed on him, an idea seized me that this
4409little creature was unprejudiced and had lived too short a time to have
4410imbibed a horror of deformity.  If, therefore, I could seize him and
4411educate him as my companion and friend, I should not be so desolate in
4412this peopled earth.
4413
4414"Urged by this impulse, I seized on the boy as he passed and drew him
4415towards me.  As soon as he beheld my form, he placed his hands before
4416his eyes and uttered a shrill scream; I drew his hand forcibly from his
4417face and said, 'Child, what is the meaning of this?  I do not intend to
4418hurt you; listen to me.'
4419
4420"He struggled violently.  'Let me go,' he cried; 'monster!  Ugly
4421wretch!  You wish to eat me and tear me to pieces.  You are an ogre.
4422Let me go, or I will tell my papa.'
4423
4424"'Boy, you will never see your father again; you must come with me.'
4425
4426"'Hideous monster!  Let me go.  My papa is a syndic--he is M.
4427Frankenstein--he will punish you.  You dare not keep me.'
4428
4429"'Frankenstein! you belong then to my enemy--to him towards whom I have
4430sworn eternal revenge; you shall be my first victim.'
4431
4432"The child still struggled and loaded me with epithets which carried
4433despair to my heart; I grasped his throat to silence him, and in a
4434moment he lay dead at my feet.
4435
4436"I gazed on my victim, and my heart swelled with exultation and hellish
4437triumph; clapping my hands, I exclaimed, 'I too can create desolation;
4438my enemy is not invulnerable; this death will carry despair to him, and
4439a thousand other miseries shall torment and destroy him.'
4440
4441"As I fixed my eyes on the child, I saw something glittering on his
4442breast.  I took it; it was a portrait of a most lovely woman.  In spite
4443of my malignity, it softened and attracted me.  For a few moments I
4444gazed with delight on her dark eyes, fringed by deep lashes, and her
4445lovely lips; but presently my rage returned; I remembered that I was
4446forever deprived of the delights that such beautiful creatures could
4447bestow and that she whose resemblance I contemplated would, in
4448regarding me, have changed that air of divine benignity to one
4449expressive of disgust and affright.
4450
4451"Can you wonder that such thoughts transported me with rage?  I only
4452wonder that at that moment, instead of venting my sensations in
4453exclamations and agony, I did not rush among mankind and perish in the
4454attempt to destroy them.
4455
4456"While I was overcome by these feelings, I left the spot where I had
4457committed the murder, and seeking a more secluded hiding-place, I
4458entered a barn which had appeared to me to be empty.  A woman was
4459sleeping on some straw; she was young, not indeed so beautiful as her
4460whose portrait I held, but of an agreeable aspect and blooming in the
4461loveliness of youth and health.  Here, I thought, is one of those whose
4462joy-imparting smiles are bestowed on all but me.  And then I bent over
4463her and whispered, 'Awake, fairest, thy lover is near--he who would
4464give his life but to obtain one look of affection from thine eyes; my
4465beloved, awake!'
4466
4467"The sleeper stirred; a thrill of terror ran through me.  Should she
4468indeed awake, and see me, and curse me, and denounce the murderer? Thus
4469would she assuredly act if her darkened eyes opened and she beheld me.
4470The thought was madness; it stirred the fiend within me--not I, but
4471she, shall suffer; the murder I have committed because I am forever
4472robbed of all that she could give me, she shall atone.  The crime had
4473its source in her; be hers the punishment!  Thanks to the lessons of
4474Felix and the sanguinary laws of man, I had learned now to work
4475mischief.  I bent over her and placed the portrait securely in one of
4476the folds of her dress.  She moved again, and I fled.
4477
4478"For some days I haunted the spot where these scenes had taken place,
4479sometimes wishing to see you, sometimes resolved to quit the world and
4480its miseries forever.  At length I wandered towards these mountains,
4481and have ranged through their immense recesses, consumed by a burning
4482passion which you alone can gratify.  We may not part until you have
4483promised to comply with my requisition.  I am alone and miserable; man
4484will not associate with me; but one as deformed and horrible as myself
4485would not deny herself to me.  My companion must be of the same species
4486and have the same defects.  This being you must create."
4487
4488
4489
4490Chapter 17
4491
4492The being finished speaking and fixed his looks upon me in the
4493expectation of a reply.  But I was bewildered, perplexed, and unable to
4494arrange my ideas sufficiently to understand the full extent of his
4495proposition.  He continued,
4496
4497"You must create a female for me with whom I can live in the
4498interchange of those sympathies necessary for my being.  This you alone
4499can do, and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse to
4500concede."
4501
4502The latter part of his tale had kindled anew in me the anger that had
4503died away while he narrated his peaceful life among the cottagers, and
4504as he said this I could no longer suppress the rage that burned within
4505me.
4506
4507"I do refuse it," I replied; "and no torture shall ever extort a
4508consent from me.  You may render me the most miserable of men, but you
4509shall never make me base in my own eyes.  Shall I create another like
4510yourself, whose joint wickedness might desolate the world.  Begone!  I
4511have answered you; you may torture me, but I will never consent."
4512
4513"You are in the wrong," replied the fiend; "and instead of threatening,
4514I am content to reason with you.  I am malicious because I am
4515miserable.  Am I not shunned and hated by all mankind?  You, my
4516creator, would tear me to pieces and triumph; remember that, and tell
4517me why I should pity man more than he pities me?  You would not call it
4518murder if you could precipitate me into one of those ice-rifts and
4519destroy my frame, the work of your own hands.  Shall I respect man when
4520he condemns me?  Let him live with me in the interchange of kindness,
4521and instead of injury I would bestow every benefit upon him with tears
4522of gratitude at his acceptance.  But that cannot be; the human senses
4523are insurmountable barriers to our union.  Yet mine shall not be the
4524submission of abject slavery.  I will revenge my injuries; if I cannot
4525inspire love, I will cause fear, and chiefly towards you my arch-enemy,
4526because my creator, do I swear inextinguishable hatred.  Have a care; I
4527will work at your destruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart,
4528so that you shall curse the hour of your birth."
4529
4530A fiendish rage animated him as he said this; his face was wrinkled
4531into contortions too horrible for human eyes to behold; but presently
4532he calmed himself and proceeded--
4533
4534"I intended to reason.  This passion is detrimental to me, for you do
4535not reflect that YOU are the cause of its excess.  If any being felt
4536emotions of benevolence towards me, I should return them a hundred and
4537a hundredfold; for that one creature's sake I would make peace with the
4538whole kind!  But I now indulge in dreams of bliss that cannot be
4539realized.  What I ask of you is reasonable and moderate; I demand a
4540creature of another sex, but as hideous as myself; the gratification is
4541small, but it is all that I can receive, and it shall content me.  It
4542is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that
4543account we shall be more attached to one another.  Our lives will not
4544be happy, but they will be harmless and free from the misery I now
4545feel.  Oh!  My creator, make me happy; let me feel gratitude towards
4546you for one benefit!  Let me see that I excite the sympathy of some
4547existing thing; do not deny me my request!"
4548
4549I was moved.  I shuddered when I thought of the possible consequences
4550of my consent, but I felt that there was some justice in his argument.
4551His tale and the feelings he now expressed proved him to be a creature
4552of fine sensations, and did I not as his maker owe him all the portion
4553of happiness that it was in my power to bestow?  He saw my change of
4554feeling and continued,
4555
4556"If you consent, neither you nor any other human being shall ever see
4557us again; I will go to the vast wilds of South America.  My food is not
4558that of man; I do not destroy the lamb and the kid to glut my appetite;
4559acorns and berries afford me sufficient nourishment.  My companion will
4560be of the same nature as myself and will be content with the same fare.
4561We shall make our bed of dried leaves; the sun will shine on us as on
4562man and will ripen our food.  The picture I present to you is peaceful
4563and human, and you must feel that you could deny it only in the
4564wantonness of power and cruelty.  Pitiless as you have been towards me,
4565I now see compassion in your eyes; let me seize the favourable moment
4566and persuade you to promise what I so ardently desire."
4567
4568"You propose," replied I, "to fly from the habitations of man, to dwell
4569in those wilds where the beasts of the field will be your only
4570companions.  How can you, who long for the love and sympathy of man,
4571persevere in this exile?  You will return and again seek their
4572kindness, and you will meet with their detestation; your evil passions
4573will be renewed, and you will then have a companion to aid you in the
4574task of destruction.  This may not be; cease to argue the point, for I
4575cannot consent."
4576
4577"How inconstant are your feelings!  But a moment ago you were moved by
4578my representations, and why do you again harden yourself to my
4579complaints?  I swear to you, by the earth which I inhabit, and by you
4580that made me, that with the companion you bestow I will quit the
4581neighbourhood of man and dwell, as it may chance, in the most savage of
4582places.  My evil passions will have fled, for I shall meet with
4583sympathy!  My life will flow quietly away, and in my dying moments I
4584shall not curse my maker."
4585
4586His words had a strange effect upon me.  I compassionated him and
4587sometimes felt a wish to console him, but when I looked upon him, when
4588I saw the filthy mass that moved and talked, my heart sickened and my
4589feelings were altered to those of horror and hatred.  I tried to stifle
4590these sensations; I thought that as I could not sympathize with him, I
4591had no right to withhold from him the small portion of happiness which
4592was yet in my power to bestow.
4593
4594"You swear," I said, "to be harmless; but have you not already shown a
4595degree of malice that should reasonably make me distrust you?  May not
4596even this be a feint that will increase your triumph by affording a
4597wider scope for your revenge?"
4598
4599"How is this?  I must not be trifled with, and I demand an answer.  If
4600I have no ties and no affections, hatred and vice must be my portion;
4601the love of another will destroy the cause of my crimes, and I shall
4602become a thing of whose existence everyone will be ignorant.  My vices
4603are the children of a forced solitude that I abhor, and my virtues will
4604necessarily arise when I live in communion with an equal.  I shall feel
4605the affections of a sensitive being and become linked to the chain of
4606existence and events from which I am now excluded."
4607
4608I paused some time to reflect on all he had related and the various
4609arguments which he had employed.  I thought of the promise of virtues
4610which he had displayed on the opening of his existence and the
4611subsequent blight of all kindly feeling by the loathing and scorn which
4612his protectors had manifested towards him.  His power and threats were
4613not omitted in my calculations; a creature who could exist in the ice
4614caves of the glaciers and hide himself from pursuit among the ridges of
4615inaccessible precipices was a being possessing faculties it would be
4616vain to cope with.  After a long pause of reflection I concluded that
4617the justice due both to him and my fellow creatures demanded of me that
4618I should comply with his request.  Turning to him, therefore, I said,
4619
4620"I consent to your demand, on your solemn oath to quit Europe forever,
4621and every other place in the neighbourhood of man, as soon as I shall
4622deliver into your hands a female who will accompany you in your exile."
4623
4624"I swear," he cried, "by the sun, and by the blue sky of heaven, and by
4625the fire of love that burns my heart, that if you grant my prayer,
4626while they exist you shall never behold me again.  Depart to your home
4627and commence your labours; I shall watch their progress with
4628unutterable anxiety; and fear not but that when you are ready I shall
4629appear."
4630
4631Saying this, he suddenly quitted me, fearful, perhaps, of any change in
4632my sentiments.  I saw him descend the mountain with greater speed than
4633the flight of an eagle, and quickly lost among the undulations of the
4634sea of ice.
4635
4636His tale had occupied the whole day, and the sun was upon the verge of
4637the horizon when he departed.  I knew that I ought to hasten my descent
4638towards the valley, as I should soon be encompassed in darkness; but my
4639heart was heavy, and my steps slow.  The labour of winding among the
4640little paths of the mountain and fixing my feet firmly as I advanced
4641perplexed me, occupied as I was by the emotions which the occurrences
4642of the day had produced.  Night was far advanced when I came to the
4643halfway resting-place and seated myself beside the fountain.  The stars
4644shone at intervals as the clouds passed from over them; the dark pines
4645rose before me, and every here and there a broken tree lay on the
4646ground; it was a scene of wonderful solemnity and stirred strange
4647thoughts within me.  I wept bitterly, and clasping my hands in agony, I
4648exclaimed, "Oh!  Stars and clouds and winds, ye are all about to mock
4649me; if ye really pity me, crush sensation and memory; let me become as
4650nought; but if not, depart, depart, and leave me in darkness."
4651
4652These were wild and miserable thoughts, but I cannot describe to you
4653how the eternal twinkling of the stars weighed upon me and how I
4654listened to every blast of wind as if it were a dull ugly siroc on its
4655way to consume me.
4656
4657Morning dawned before I arrived at the village of Chamounix; I took no
4658rest, but returned immediately to Geneva.  Even in my own heart I could
4659give no expression to my sensations--they weighed on me with a
4660mountain's weight and their excess destroyed my agony beneath them.
4661Thus I returned home, and entering the house, presented myself to the
4662family.  My haggard and wild appearance awoke intense alarm, but I
4663answered no question, scarcely did I speak.  I felt as if I were placed
4664under a ban--as if I had no right to claim their sympathies--as if
4665never more might I enjoy companionship with them.  Yet even thus I
4666loved them to adoration; and to save them, I resolved to dedicate
4667myself to my most abhorred task.  The prospect of such an occupation
4668made every other circumstance of existence pass before me like a dream,
4669and that thought only had to me the reality of life.
4670
4671
4672
4673Chapter 18
4674
4675Day after day, week after week, passed away on my return to Geneva; and
4676I could not collect the courage to recommence my work.  I feared the
4677vengeance of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to overcome my
4678repugnance to the task which was enjoined me.  I found that I could not
4679compose a female without again devoting several months to profound
4680study and laborious disquisition.  I had heard of some discoveries
4681having been made by an English philosopher, the knowledge of which was
4682material to my success, and I sometimes thought of obtaining my
4683father's consent to visit England for this purpose; but I clung to
4684every pretence of delay and shrank from taking the first step in an
4685undertaking whose immediate necessity began to appear less absolute to
4686me.  A change indeed had taken place in me; my health, which had
4687hitherto declined, was now much restored; and my spirits, when
4688unchecked by the memory of my unhappy promise, rose proportionably.  My
4689father saw this change with pleasure, and he turned his thoughts
4690towards the best method of eradicating the remains of my melancholy,
4691which every now and then would return by fits, and with a devouring
4692blackness overcast the approaching sunshine.  At these moments I took
4693refuge in the most perfect solitude.  I passed whole days on the lake
4694alone in a little boat, watching the clouds and listening to the
4695rippling of the waves, silent and listless.  But the fresh air and
4696bright sun seldom failed to restore me to some degree of composure, and
4697on my return I met the salutations of my friends with a readier smile
4698and a more cheerful heart.
4699
4700It was after my return from one of these rambles that my father,
4701calling me aside, thus addressed me,
4702
4703"I am happy to remark, my dear son, that you have resumed your former
4704pleasures and seem to be returning to yourself.  And yet you are still
4705unhappy and still avoid our society.  For some time I was lost in
4706conjecture as to the cause of this, but yesterday an idea struck me,
4707and if it is well founded, I conjure you to avow it.  Reserve on such a
4708point would be not only useless, but draw down treble misery on us all."
4709
4710I trembled violently at his exordium, and my father continued--"I
4711confess, my son, that I have always looked forward to your marriage
4712with our dear Elizabeth as the tie of our domestic comfort and the stay
4713of my declining years.  You were attached to each other from your
4714earliest infancy; you studied together, and appeared, in dispositions
4715and tastes, entirely suited to one another.  But so blind is the
4716experience of man that what I conceived to be the best assistants to my
4717plan may have entirely destroyed it.  You, perhaps, regard her as your
4718sister, without any wish that she might become your wife.  Nay, you may
4719have met with another whom you may love; and considering yourself as
4720bound in honour to Elizabeth, this struggle may occasion the poignant
4721misery which you appear to feel."
4722
4723"My dear father, reassure yourself.  I love my cousin tenderly and
4724sincerely.  I never saw any woman who excited, as Elizabeth does, my
4725warmest admiration and affection.  My future hopes and prospects are
4726entirely bound up in the expectation of our union."
4727
4728"The expression of your sentiments of this subject, my dear Victor,
4729gives me more pleasure than I have for some time experienced.  If you
4730feel thus, we shall assuredly be happy, however present events may cast
4731a gloom over us.  But it is this gloom which appears to have taken so
4732strong a hold of your mind that I wish to dissipate.  Tell me,
4733therefore, whether you object to an immediate solemnization of the
4734marriage.  We have been unfortunate, and recent events have drawn us
4735from that everyday tranquillity befitting my years and infirmities. You
4736are younger; yet I do not suppose, possessed as you are of a competent
4737fortune, that an early marriage would at all interfere with any future
4738plans of honour and utility that you may have formed.  Do not suppose,
4739however, that I wish to dictate happiness to you or that a delay on
4740your part would cause me any serious uneasiness.  Interpret my words
4741with candour and answer me, I conjure you, with confidence and
4742sincerity."
4743
4744I listened to my father in silence and remained for some time incapable
4745of offering any reply.  I revolved rapidly in my mind a multitude of
4746thoughts and endeavoured to arrive at some conclusion.  Alas!  To me
4747the idea of an immediate union with my Elizabeth was one of horror and
4748dismay.  I was bound by a solemn promise which I had not yet fulfilled
4749and dared not break, or if I did, what manifold miseries might not
4750impend over me and my devoted family!  Could I enter into a festival
4751with this deadly weight yet hanging round my neck and bowing me to the
4752ground?  I must perform my engagement and let the monster depart with
4753his mate before I allowed myself to enjoy the delight of a union from
4754which I expected peace.
4755
4756I remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying to
4757England or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophers
4758of that country whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensable
4759use to me in my present undertaking.  The latter method of obtaining
4760the desired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory; besides, I
4761had an insurmountable aversion to the idea of engaging myself in my
4762loathsome task in my father's house while in habits of familiar
4763intercourse with those I loved.  I knew that a thousand fearful
4764accidents might occur, the slightest of which would disclose a tale to
4765thrill all connected with me with horror.  I was aware also that I
4766should often lose all self-command, all capacity of hiding the
4767harrowing sensations that would possess me during the progress of my
4768unearthly occupation.  I must absent myself from all I loved while thus
4769employed.  Once commenced, it would quickly be achieved, and I might be
4770restored to my family in peace and happiness.  My promise fulfilled,
4771the monster would depart forever.  Or (so my fond fancy imaged) some
4772accident might meanwhile occur to destroy him and put an end to my
4773slavery forever.
4774
4775These feelings dictated my answer to my father.  I expressed a wish to
4776visit England, but concealing the true reasons of this request, I
4777clothed my desires under a guise which excited no suspicion, while I
4778urged my desire with an earnestness that easily induced my father to
4779comply.  After so long a period of an absorbing melancholy that
4780resembled madness in its intensity and effects, he was glad to find
4781that I was capable of taking pleasure in the idea of such a journey,
4782and he hoped that change of scene and varied amusement would, before my
4783return, have restored me entirely to myself.
4784
4785The duration of my absence was left to my own choice; a few months, or
4786at most a year, was the period contemplated.  One paternal kind
4787precaution he had taken to ensure my having a companion.  Without
4788previously communicating with me, he had, in concert with Elizabeth,
4789arranged that Clerval should join me at Strasbourg.  This interfered
4790with the solitude I coveted for the prosecution of my task; yet at the
4791commencement of my journey the presence of my friend could in no way be
4792an impediment, and truly I rejoiced that thus I should be saved many
4793hours of lonely, maddening reflection.  Nay, Henry might stand between
4794me and the intrusion of my foe.  If I were alone, would he not at times
4795force his abhorred presence on me to remind me of my task or to
4796contemplate its progress?
4797
4798To England, therefore, I was bound, and it was understood that my union
4799with Elizabeth should take place immediately on my return.  My father's
4800age rendered him extremely averse to delay.  For myself, there was one
4801reward I promised myself from my detested toils--one consolation for my
4802unparalleled sufferings; it was the prospect of that day when,
4803enfranchised from my miserable slavery, I might claim Elizabeth and
4804forget the past in my union with her.
4805
4806I now made arrangements for my journey, but one feeling haunted me
4807which filled me with fear and agitation.  During my absence I should
4808leave my friends unconscious of the existence of their enemy and
4809unprotected from his attacks, exasperated as he might be by my
4810departure.  But he had promised to follow me wherever I might go, and
4811would he not accompany me to England?  This imagination was dreadful in
4812itself, but soothing inasmuch as it supposed the safety of my friends.
4813I was agonized with the idea of the possibility that the reverse of
4814this might happen.  But through the whole period during which I was the
4815slave of my creature I allowed myself to be governed by the impulses of
4816the moment; and my present sensations strongly intimated that the fiend
4817would follow me and exempt my family from the danger of his
4818machinations.
4819
4820It was in the latter end of September that I again quitted my native
4821country.  My journey had been my own suggestion, and Elizabeth
4822therefore acquiesced, but she was filled with disquiet at the idea of
4823my suffering, away from her, the inroads of misery and grief.  It had
4824been her care which provided me a companion in Clerval--and yet a man
4825is blind to a thousand minute circumstances which call forth a woman's
4826sedulous attention.  She longed to bid me hasten my return; a thousand
4827conflicting emotions rendered her mute as she bade me a tearful, silent
4828farewell.
4829
4830I threw myself into the carriage that was to convey me away, hardly
4831knowing whither I was going, and careless of what was passing around.
4832I remembered only, and it was with a bitter anguish that I reflected on
4833it, to order that my chemical instruments should be packed to go with
4834me.  Filled with dreary imaginations, I passed through many beautiful
4835and majestic scenes, but my eyes were fixed and unobserving.  I could
4836only think of the bourne of my travels and the work which was to occupy
4837me whilst they endured.
4838
4839After some days spent in listless indolence, during which I traversed
4840many leagues, I arrived at Strasbourg, where I waited two days for
4841Clerval.  He came.  Alas, how great was the contrast between us!  He
4842was alive to every new scene, joyful when he saw the beauties of the
4843setting sun, and more happy when he beheld it rise and recommence a new
4844day.  He pointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape and
4845the appearances of the sky.  "This is what it is to live," he cried;
4846"how I enjoy existence!  But you, my dear Frankenstein, wherefore are
4847you desponding and sorrowful!" In truth, I was occupied by gloomy
4848thoughts and neither saw the descent of the evening star nor the golden
4849sunrise reflected in the Rhine.  And you, my friend, would be far more
4850amused with the journal of Clerval, who observed the scenery with an
4851eye of feeling and delight, than in listening to my reflections.  I, a
4852miserable wretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to
4853enjoyment.
4854
4855We had agreed to descend the Rhine in a boat from Strasbourg to
4856Rotterdam, whence we might take shipping for London.  During this
4857voyage we passed many willowy islands and saw several beautiful towns.
4858We stayed a day at Mannheim, and on the fifth from our departure from
4859Strasbourg, arrived at Mainz.  The course of the Rhine below Mainz
4860becomes much more picturesque.  The river descends rapidly and winds
4861between hills, not high, but steep, and of beautiful forms.  We saw
4862many ruined castles standing on the edges of precipices, surrounded by
4863black woods, high and inaccessible.  This part of the Rhine, indeed,
4864presents a singularly variegated landscape.  In one spot you view
4865rugged hills, ruined castles overlooking tremendous precipices, with
4866the dark Rhine rushing beneath; and on the sudden turn of a promontory,
4867flourishing vineyards with green sloping banks and a meandering river
4868and populous towns occupy the scene.
4869
4870We travelled at the time of the vintage and heard the song of the
4871labourers as we glided down the stream.  Even I, depressed in mind, and
4872my spirits continually agitated by gloomy feelings, even I was pleased.
4873I lay at the bottom of the boat, and as I gazed on the cloudless blue
4874sky, I seemed to drink in a tranquillity to which I had long been a
4875stranger.  And if these were my sensations, who can describe those of
4876Henry?  He felt as if he had been transported to fairy-land and enjoyed
4877a happiness seldom tasted by man.  "I have seen," he said, "the most
4878beautiful scenes of my own country; I have visited the lakes of Lucerne
4879and Uri, where the snowy mountains descend almost perpendicularly to
4880the water, casting black and impenetrable shades, which would cause a
4881gloomy and mournful appearance were it not for the most verdant islands
4882that believe the eye by their gay appearance; I have seen this lake
4883agitated by a tempest, when the wind tore up whirlwinds of water and
4884gave you an idea of what the water-spout must be on the great ocean;
4885and the waves dash with fury the base of the mountain, where the priest
4886and his mistress were overwhelmed by an avalanche and where their dying
4887voices are still said to be heard amid the pauses of the nightly wind;
4888I have seen the mountains of La Valais, and the Pays de Vaud; but this
4889country, Victor, pleases me more than all those wonders.  The mountains
4890of Switzerland are more majestic and strange, but there is a charm in
4891the banks of this divine river that I never before saw equalled.  Look
4892at that castle which overhangs yon precipice; and that also on the
4893island, almost concealed amongst the foliage of those lovely trees; and
4894now that group of labourers coming from among their vines; and that
4895village half hid in the recess of the mountain.  Oh, surely the spirit
4896that inhabits and guards this place has a soul more in harmony with man
4897than those who pile the glacier or retire to the inaccessible peaks of
4898the mountains of our own country." Clerval!  Beloved friend!  Even now
4899it delights me to record your words and to dwell on the praise of which
4900you are so eminently deserving.  He was a being formed in the "very
4901poetry of nature." His wild and enthusiastic imagination was chastened
4902by the sensibility of his heart.  His soul overflowed with ardent
4903affections, and his friendship was of that devoted and wondrous nature
4904that the world-minded teach us to look for only in the imagination. But
4905even human sympathies were not sufficient to satisfy his eager mind.
4906The scenery of external nature, which others regard only with
4907admiration, he loved with ardour:--
4908
4909
4910     ----The sounding cataract
4911     Haunted him like a passion:  the tall rock,
4912     The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
4913     Their colours and their forms, were then to him
4914     An appetite; a feeling, and a love,
4915     That had no need of a remoter charm,
4916     By thought supplied, or any interest
4917     Unborrow'd from the eye.
4918
4919                    [Wordsworth's "Tintern Abbey".]
4920
4921
4922And where does he now exist?  Is this gentle and lovely being lost
4923forever?  Has this mind, so replete with ideas, imaginations fanciful
4924and magnificent, which formed a world, whose existence depended on the
4925life of its creator;--has this mind perished?  Does it now only exist
4926in my memory?  No, it is not thus; your form so divinely wrought, and
4927beaming with beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits and
4928consoles your unhappy friend.
4929
4930Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slight
4931tribute to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart,
4932overflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates.  I will
4933proceed with my tale.
4934
4935Beyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolved
4936to post the remainder of our way, for the wind was contrary and the
4937stream of the river was too gentle to aid us.  Our journey here lost
4938the interest arising from beautiful scenery, but we arrived in a few
4939days at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea to England.  It was on a
4940clear morning, in the latter days of December, that I first saw the
4941white cliffs of Britain.  The banks of the Thames presented a new
4942scene; they were flat but fertile, and almost every town was marked by
4943the remembrance of some story.  We saw Tilbury Fort and remembered the
4944Spanish Armada, Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich--places which I had
4945heard of even in my country.
4946
4947At length we saw the numerous steeples of London, St. Paul's towering
4948above all, and the Tower famed in English history.
4949
4950
4951
4952Chapter 19
4953
4954London was our present point of rest; we determined to remain several
4955months in this wonderful and celebrated city.  Clerval desired the
4956intercourse of the men of genius and talent who flourished at this
4957time, but this was with me a secondary object; I was principally
4958occupied with the means of obtaining the information necessary for the
4959completion of my promise and quickly availed myself of the letters of
4960introduction that I had brought with me, addressed to the most
4961distinguished natural philosophers.
4962
4963If this journey had taken place during my days of study and happiness,
4964it would have afforded me inexpressible pleasure.  But a blight had
4965come over my existence, and I only visited these people for the sake of
4966the information they might give me on the subject in which my interest
4967was so terribly profound.  Company was irksome to me; when alone, I
4968could fill my mind with the sights of heaven and earth; the voice of
4969Henry soothed me, and I could thus cheat myself into a transitory
4970peace.  But busy, uninteresting, joyous faces brought back despair to
4971my heart.  I saw an insurmountable barrier placed between me and my
4972fellow men; this barrier was sealed with the blood of William and
4973Justine, and to reflect on the events connected with those names filled
4974my soul with anguish.
4975
4976But in Clerval I saw the image of my former self; he was inquisitive
4977and anxious to gain experience and instruction.  The difference of
4978manners which he observed was to him an inexhaustible source of
4979instruction and amusement.  He was also pursuing an object he had long
4980had in view.  His design was to visit India, in the belief that he had
4981in his knowledge of its various languages, and in the views he had
4982taken of its society, the means of materially assisting the progress of
4983European colonization and trade.  In Britain only could he further the
4984execution of his plan.  He was forever busy, and the only check to his
4985enjoyments was my sorrowful and dejected mind.  I tried to conceal this
4986as much as possible, that I might not debar him from the pleasures
4987natural to one who was entering on a new scene of life, undisturbed by
4988any care or bitter recollection.  I often refused to accompany him,
4989alleging another engagement, that I might remain alone.  I now also
4990began to collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and this
4991was to me like the torture of single drops of water continually falling
4992on the head.  Every thought that was devoted to it was an extreme
4993anguish, and every word that I spoke in allusion to it caused my lips
4994to quiver, and my heart to palpitate.
4995
4996After passing some months in London, we received a letter from a person
4997in Scotland who had formerly been our visitor at Geneva.  He mentioned
4998the beauties of his native country and asked us if those were not
4999sufficient allurements to induce us to prolong our journey as far north
5000as Perth, where he resided.  Clerval eagerly desired to accept this
5001invitation, and I, although I abhorred society, wished to view again
5002mountains and streams and all the wondrous works with which Nature
5003adorns her chosen dwelling-places.  We had arrived in England at the
5004beginning of October, and it was now February.  We accordingly
5005determined to commence our journey towards the north at the expiration
5006of another month.  In this expedition we did not intend to follow the
5007great road to Edinburgh, but to visit Windsor, Oxford, Matlock, and the
5008Cumberland lakes, resolving to arrive at the completion of this tour
5009about the end of July.  I packed up my chemical instruments and the
5010materials I had collected, resolving to finish my labours in some
5011obscure nook in the northern highlands of Scotland.
5012
5013We quitted London on the 27th of March and remained a few days at
5014Windsor, rambling in its beautiful forest.  This was a new scene to us
5015mountaineers; the majestic oaks, the quantity of game, and the herds of
5016stately deer were all novelties to us.
5017
5018From thence we proceeded to Oxford.  As we entered this city our minds
5019were filled with the remembrance of the events that had been transacted
5020there more than a century and a half before.  It was here that Charles
5021I. had collected his forces.  This city had remained faithful to him,
5022after the whole nation had forsaken his cause to join the standard of
5023Parliament and liberty.  The memory of that unfortunate king and his
5024companions, the amiable Falkland, the insolent Goring, his queen, and
5025son, gave a peculiar interest to every part of the city which they
5026might be supposed to have inhabited.  The spirit of elder days found a
5027dwelling here, and we delighted to trace its footsteps.  If these
5028feelings had not found an imaginary gratification, the appearance of
5029the city had yet in itself sufficient beauty to obtain our admiration.
5030The colleges are ancient and picturesque; the streets are almost
5031magnificent; and the lovely Isis, which flows beside it through meadows
5032of exquisite verdure, is spread forth into a placid expanse of waters,
5033which reflects its majestic assemblage of towers, and spires, and
5034domes, embosomed among aged trees.
5035
5036I enjoyed this scene, and yet my enjoyment was embittered both by the
5037memory of the past and the anticipation of the future.  I was formed
5038for peaceful happiness.  During my youthful days discontent never
5039visited my mind, and if I was ever overcome by ennui, the sight of what
5040is beautiful in nature or the study of what is excellent and sublime in
5041the productions of man could always interest my heart and communicate
5042elasticity to my spirits.  But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has
5043entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit what
5044I shall soon cease to be--a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity,
5045pitiable to others and intolerable to myself.
5046
5047We passed a considerable period at Oxford, rambling among its environs
5048and endeavouring to identify every spot which might relate to the most
5049animating epoch of English history.  Our little voyages of discovery
5050were often prolonged by the successive objects that presented
5051themselves.  We visited the tomb of the illustrious Hampden and the
5052field on which that patriot fell.  For a moment my soul was elevated
5053from its debasing and miserable fears to contemplate the divine ideas
5054of liberty and self sacrifice of which these sights were the monuments
5055and the remembrancers.  For an instant I dared to shake off my chains
5056and look around me with a free and lofty spirit, but the iron had eaten
5057into my flesh, and I sank again, trembling and hopeless, into my
5058miserable self.
5059
5060We left Oxford with regret and proceeded to Matlock, which was our next
5061place of rest.  The country in the neighbourhood of this village
5062resembled, to a greater degree, the scenery of Switzerland; but
5063everything is on a lower scale, and the green hills want the crown of
5064distant white Alps which always attend on the piny mountains of my
5065native country.  We visited the wondrous cave and the little cabinets
5066of natural history, where the curiosities are disposed in the same
5067manner as in the collections at Servox and Chamounix.  The latter name
5068made me tremble when pronounced by Henry, and I hastened to quit
5069Matlock, with which that terrible scene was thus associated.
5070
5071From Derby, still journeying northwards, we passed two months in
5072Cumberland and Westmorland.  I could now almost fancy myself among the
5073Swiss mountains.  The little patches of snow which yet lingered on the
5074northern sides of the mountains, the lakes, and the dashing of the
5075rocky streams were all familiar and dear sights to me.  Here also we
5076made some acquaintances, who almost contrived to cheat me into
5077happiness.  The delight of Clerval was proportionably greater than
5078mine; his mind expanded in the company of men of talent, and he found
5079in his own nature greater capacities and resources than he could have
5080imagined himself to have possessed while he associated with his
5081inferiors.  "I could pass my life here," said he to me; "and among
5082these mountains I should scarcely regret Switzerland and the Rhine."
5083
5084But he found that a traveller's life is one that includes much pain
5085amidst its enjoyments.  His feelings are forever on the stretch; and
5086when he begins to sink into repose, he finds himself obliged to quit
5087that on which he rests in pleasure for something new, which again
5088engages his attention, and which also he forsakes for other novelties.
5089
5090We had scarcely visited the various lakes of Cumberland and Westmorland
5091and conceived an affection for some of the inhabitants when the period
5092of our appointment with our Scotch friend approached, and we left them
5093to travel on.  For my own part I was not sorry.  I had now neglected my
5094promise for some time, and I feared the effects of the daemon's
5095disappointment.  He might remain in Switzerland and wreak his vengeance
5096on my relatives.  This idea pursued me and tormented me at every moment
5097from which I might otherwise have snatched repose and peace.  I waited
5098for my letters with feverish impatience; if they were delayed I was
5099miserable and overcome by a thousand fears; and when they arrived and I
5100saw the superscription of Elizabeth or my father, I hardly dared to
5101read and ascertain my fate.  Sometimes I thought that the fiend
5102followed me and might expedite my remissness by murdering my companion.
5103When these thoughts possessed me, I would not quit Henry for a moment,
5104but followed him as his shadow, to protect him from the fancied rage of
5105his destroyer.  I felt as if I had committed some great crime, the
5106consciousness of which haunted me.  I was guiltless, but I had indeed
5107drawn down a horrible curse upon my head, as mortal as that of crime.
5108
5109I visited Edinburgh with languid eyes and mind; and yet that city might
5110have interested the most unfortunate being.  Clerval did not like it so
5111well as Oxford, for the antiquity of the latter city was more pleasing
5112to him.  But the beauty and regularity of the new town of Edinburgh,
5113its romantic castle and its environs, the most delightful in the world,
5114Arthur's Seat, St. Bernard's Well, and the Pentland Hills compensated
5115him for the change and filled him with cheerfulness and admiration. But
5116I was impatient to arrive at the termination of my journey.
5117
5118We left Edinburgh in a week, passing through Coupar, St. Andrew's, and
5119along the banks of the Tay, to Perth, where our friend expected us.
5120But I was in no mood to laugh and talk with strangers or enter into
5121their feelings or plans with the good humour expected from a guest; and
5122accordingly I told Clerval that I wished to make the tour of Scotland
5123alone.  "Do you," said I, "enjoy yourself, and let this be our
5124rendezvous.  I may be absent a month or two; but do not interfere with
5125my motions, I entreat you; leave me to peace and solitude for a short
5126time; and when I return, I hope it will be with a lighter heart, more
5127congenial to your own temper."
5128
5129Henry wished to dissuade me, but seeing me bent on this plan, ceased to
5130remonstrate.  He entreated me to write often.  "I had rather be with
5131you," he said, "in your solitary rambles, than with these Scotch
5132people, whom I do not know; hasten, then, my dear  friend, to return,
5133that I may again feel myself somewhat at home, which I cannot do in
5134your absence."
5135
5136Having parted from my friend, I determined to visit some remote spot of
5137Scotland and finish my work in solitude.  I did not doubt but that the
5138monster followed me and would discover himself to me when I should have
5139finished, that he might receive his companion.  With this resolution I
5140traversed the northern highlands and fixed on one of the remotest of
5141the Orkneys as the scene of my labours.  It was a place fitted for such
5142a work, being hardly more than a rock whose high sides were continually
5143beaten upon by the waves.  The soil was barren, scarcely affording
5144pasture for a few miserable cows, and oatmeal for its inhabitants,
5145which consisted of five persons, whose gaunt and scraggy limbs gave
5146tokens of their miserable fare.  Vegetables and bread, when they
5147indulged in such luxuries, and even fresh water, was to be procured
5148from the mainland, which was about five miles distant.
5149
5150On the whole island there were but three miserable huts, and one of
5151these was vacant when I arrived.  This I hired.  It contained but two
5152rooms, and these exhibited all the squalidness of the most miserable
5153penury.  The thatch had fallen in, the walls were unplastered, and the
5154door was off its hinges.  I ordered it to be repaired, bought some
5155furniture, and took possession, an incident which would doubtless have
5156occasioned some surprise had not all the senses of the cottagers been
5157benumbed by want and squalid poverty.  As it was, I lived ungazed at
5158and unmolested, hardly thanked for the pittance of food and clothes
5159which I gave, so much does suffering blunt even the coarsest sensations
5160of men.
5161
5162In this retreat I devoted the morning to labour; but in the evening,
5163when the weather permitted, I walked on the stony beach of the sea to
5164listen to the waves as they roared and dashed at my feet.  It was a
5165monotonous yet ever-changing scene.  I thought of Switzerland; it was
5166far different from this desolate and appalling landscape.  Its hills
5167are covered with vines, and its cottages are scattered thickly in the
5168plains.  Its fair lakes reflect a blue and gentle sky, and when
5169troubled by the winds, their tumult is but as the play of a lively
5170infant when compared to the roarings of the giant ocean.
5171
5172In this manner I distributed my occupations when I first arrived, but
5173as I proceeded in my labour, it became every day more horrible and
5174irksome to me.  Sometimes I could not prevail on myself to enter my
5175laboratory for several days, and at other times I toiled day and night
5176in order to complete my work.  It was, indeed, a filthy process in
5177which I was engaged.  During my first experiment, a kind of
5178enthusiastic frenzy had blinded me to the horror of my employment; my
5179mind was intently fixed on the consummation of my labour, and my eyes
5180were shut to the horror of my proceedings.  But now I went to it in
5181cold blood, and my heart often sickened at the work of my hands.
5182
5183Thus situated, employed in the most detestable occupation, immersed in
5184a solitude where nothing could for an instant call my attention from
5185the actual scene in which I was engaged, my spirits became unequal; I
5186grew restless and nervous.  Every moment I feared to meet my
5187persecutor.  Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing
5188to raise them lest they should encounter the object which I so much
5189dreaded to behold.  I feared to wander from the sight of my fellow
5190creatures lest when alone he should come to claim his companion.
5191
5192In the mean time I worked on, and my labour was already considerably
5193advanced.  I looked towards its completion with a tremulous and eager
5194hope, which I dared not trust myself to question but which was
5195intermixed with obscure forebodings of evil that made my heart sicken
5196in my bosom.
5197
5198
5199
5200Chapter 20
5201
5202I sat one evening in my laboratory; the sun had set, and the moon was
5203just rising from the sea; I had not sufficient light for my employment,
5204and I remained idle, in a pause of consideration of whether I should
5205leave my labour for the night or hasten its conclusion by an
5206unremitting attention to it.  As I sat, a train of reflection occurred
5207to me which led me to consider the effects of what I was now doing.
5208Three years before, I was engaged in the same manner and had created a
5209fiend whose unparalleled barbarity had desolated my heart and filled it
5210forever with the bitterest remorse.  I was now about to form another
5211being of whose dispositions I was alike ignorant; she might become ten
5212thousand times more malignant than her mate and delight, for its own
5213sake, in murder and wretchedness.  He had sworn to quit the
5214neighbourhood of man and hide himself in deserts, but she had not; and
5215she, who in all probability was to become a thinking and reasoning
5216animal, might refuse to comply with a compact made before her creation.
5217They might even hate each other; the creature who already lived loathed
5218his own deformity, and might he not conceive a greater abhorrence for
5219it when it came before his eyes in the female form?  She also might
5220turn with disgust from him to the superior beauty of man; she might
5221quit him, and he be again alone, exasperated by the fresh provocation
5222of being deserted by one of his own species.  Even if they were to
5223leave Europe and inhabit the deserts of the new world, yet one of the
5224first results of those sympathies for which the daemon thirsted would
5225be children, and a race of devils would be propagated upon the earth
5226who might make the very existence of the species of man a condition
5227precarious and full of terror.  Had I right, for my own benefit, to
5228inflict this curse upon everlasting generations?  I had before been
5229moved by the sophisms of the being I had created; I had been struck
5230senseless by his fiendish threats; but now, for the first time, the
5231wickedness of my promise burst upon me; I shuddered to think that
5232future ages might curse me as their pest, whose selfishness had not
5233hesitated to buy its own peace at the price, perhaps, of the existence
5234of the whole human race.
5235
5236I trembled and my heart failed within me, when, on looking up, I saw by
5237the light of the moon the daemon at the casement.  A ghastly grin
5238wrinkled his lips as he gazed on me, where I sat fulfilling the task
5239which he had allotted to me.  Yes, he had followed me in my travels; he
5240had loitered in forests, hid himself in caves, or taken refuge in wide
5241and desert heaths; and he now came to mark my progress and claim the
5242fulfilment of my promise.
5243
5244As I looked on him, his countenance expressed the utmost extent of
5245malice and treachery.  I thought with a sensation of madness on my
5246promise of creating another like to him, and trembling with passion,
5247tore to pieces the thing on which I was engaged.  The wretch saw me
5248destroy the creature on whose future existence he depended for
5249happiness, and with a howl of devilish despair and revenge, withdrew.
5250
5251I left the room, and locking the door, made a solemn vow in my own
5252heart never to resume my labours; and then, with trembling steps, I
5253sought my own apartment. I was alone; none were near me to dissipate
5254the gloom and relieve me from the sickening oppression of the most
5255terrible reveries.
5256
5257Several hours passed, and I remained near my window gazing on the sea;
5258it was almost motionless, for the winds were hushed, and all nature
5259reposed under the eye of the quiet moon.  A few fishing vessels alone
5260specked the water, and now and then the gentle breeze wafted the sound
5261of voices as the fishermen called to one another.  I felt the silence,
5262although I was hardly conscious of its extreme profundity, until my ear
5263was suddenly arrested by the paddling of oars near the shore, and a
5264person landed close to my house.
5265
5266In a few minutes after, I heard the creaking of my door, as if some one
5267endeavoured to open it softly.  I trembled from head to foot; I felt a
5268presentiment of who it was and wished to rouse one of the peasants who
5269dwelt in a cottage not far from mine; but I was overcome by the
5270sensation of helplessness, so often felt in frightful dreams, when you
5271in vain endeavour to fly from an impending danger, and was rooted to
5272the spot. Presently I heard the sound of footsteps along the passage;
5273the door opened, and the wretch whom I dreaded appeared.
5274
5275Shutting the door, he approached me and said in a smothered voice, "You
5276have destroyed the work which you began; what is it that you intend?
5277Do you dare to break your promise?  I have endured toil and misery; I
5278left Switzerland with you; I crept along the shores of the Rhine, among
5279its willow islands and over the summits of its hills.  I have dwelt
5280many months in the heaths of England and among the deserts of Scotland.
5281I have endured incalculable fatigue, and cold, and hunger; do you dare
5282destroy my hopes?"
5283
5284"Begone!  I do break my promise; never will I create another like
5285yourself, equal in deformity and wickedness."
5286
5287"Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself
5288unworthy of my condescension.  Remember that I have power; you believe
5289yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of
5290day will be hateful to you.  You are my creator, but I am your master;
5291obey!"
5292
5293"The hour of my irresolution is past, and the period of your power is
5294arrived.  Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness; but
5295they confirm me in a determination of not creating you a companion in
5296vice.  Shall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a daemon whose
5297delight is in death and wretchedness?  Begone!  I am firm, and your
5298words will only exasperate my rage."
5299
5300The monster saw my determination in my face and gnashed his teeth in
5301the impotence of anger.  "Shall each man," cried he, "find a wife for
5302his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone?  I had
5303feelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn.
5304Man!  You may hate, but beware!  Your hours will pass in dread and
5305misery, and soon the bolt  will fall which must ravish from you your
5306happiness forever.  Are you to be happy while I grovel in the intensity
5307of my wretchedness?  You can blast my other passions, but revenge
5308remains--revenge, henceforth dearer than light or food!  I may die, but
5309first you, my tyrant and tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on
5310your misery.  Beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful.  I will
5311watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom.
5312Man, you shall repent of the injuries you inflict."
5313
5314"Devil, cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice.
5315I have declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend
5316beneath words.  Leave me; I am inexorable."
5317
5318"It is well.  I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your
5319wedding-night."
5320
5321I started forward and exclaimed, "Villain!  Before you sign my
5322death-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe."
5323
5324I would have seized him, but he eluded me and quitted the house with
5325precipitation.  In a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shot
5326across the waters with an arrowy swiftness and was soon lost amidst the
5327waves.
5328
5329All was again silent, but his words rang in my ears.  I burned with
5330rage to pursue the murderer of my peace and precipitate him into the
5331ocean.  I walked up and down my room hastily and perturbed, while my
5332imagination conjured up a thousand images to torment and sting me.  Why
5333had I not followed him and closed with him in mortal strife?  But I had
5334suffered him to depart, and he had directed his course towards the
5335mainland.  I shuddered to think who might be the next victim sacrificed
5336to his insatiate revenge.  And then I thought again of his words--"I
5337WILL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING-NIGHT."  That, then, was the period
5338fixed for the fulfilment of my destiny.  In that hour I should die and
5339at once satisfy and extinguish his malice.  The prospect did not move
5340me to fear; yet when I thought of my beloved Elizabeth, of her tears
5341and endless sorrow, when she should find her lover so barbarously
5342snatched from her, tears, the first I had shed for many months,
5343streamed from my eyes, and I resolved not to fall before my enemy
5344without a bitter struggle.
5345
5346The night passed away, and the sun rose from the ocean; my feelings
5347became calmer, if it may be called calmness when the violence of rage
5348sinks into the depths of despair.  I left the house, the horrid scene
5349of the last night's contention, and walked on the beach of the sea,
5350which I almost regarded as an insuperable barrier between me and my
5351fellow creatures; nay, a wish that such should prove the fact stole
5352across me.
5353
5354I desired that I might pass my life on that barren rock, wearily, it is
5355true, but uninterrupted by any sudden shock of misery.  If I returned,
5356it was to be sacrificed or to see those whom I most loved die under the
5357grasp of a daemon whom I had myself created.
5358
5359I walked about the isle like a restless spectre, separated from all it
5360loved and miserable in the separation.  When it became noon, and the
5361sun rose higher, I lay down on the grass and was overpowered by a deep
5362sleep.  I had been awake the whole of the preceding night, my nerves
5363were agitated, and my eyes inflamed by watching and misery.  The sleep
5364into which I now sank refreshed me; and when I awoke, I again felt as
5365if I belonged to a race of human beings like myself, and I began to
5366reflect upon what had passed with greater composure; yet still the
5367words of the fiend rang in my ears like a death-knell; they appeared
5368like a dream, yet distinct and oppressive as a reality.
5369
5370The sun had far descended, and I still sat on the shore, satisfying my
5371appetite, which had become ravenous, with an oaten cake, when I saw a
5372fishing-boat land close to me, and one of the men brought me a packet;
5373it contained letters from Geneva, and one from Clerval entreating me to
5374join him.  He said that he was wearing away his time fruitlessly where
5375he was, that letters from the friends he had formed in London desired
5376his return to complete the negotiation they had entered into for his
5377Indian enterprise.  He could not any longer delay his departure; but as
5378his journey to London might be followed, even sooner than he now
5379conjectured, by his longer voyage, he entreated me to bestow as much of
5380my society on him as I could spare.  He besought me, therefore, to
5381leave my solitary isle and to meet him at Perth, that we might proceed
5382southwards together.  This letter in a degree recalled me to life, and
5383I determined to quit my island at the expiration of two days.  Yet,
5384before I departed, there was a task to perform, on which I shuddered to
5385reflect; I must pack up my chemical instruments, and for that purpose I
5386must enter the room which had been the scene of my odious work, and I
5387must handle those utensils the sight of which was sickening to me. The
5388next morning, at daybreak, I summoned sufficient courage and unlocked
5389the door of my laboratory.  The remains of the half-finished creature,
5390whom I had destroyed, lay scattered on the floor, and I almost felt as
5391if I had mangled the living flesh of a human being.  I paused to
5392collect myself and then entered the chamber.  With trembling hand I
5393conveyed the instruments out of the room, but I reflected that I ought
5394not to leave the relics of my work to excite the horror and suspicion
5395of the peasants; and I accordingly put them into a basket, with a great
5396quantity of stones, and laying them up, determined to throw them into
5397the sea that very night; and in the meantime I sat upon the beach,
5398employed in cleaning and arranging my chemical apparatus.
5399
5400Nothing could be more complete than the alteration that had taken place
5401in my feelings since the night of the appearance of the daemon.  I had
5402before regarded my promise with a gloomy despair as a thing that, with
5403whatever consequences, must be fulfilled; but I now felt as if a film
5404had been taken from before my eyes and that I for the first time saw
5405clearly.  The idea of renewing my labours did not for one instant occur
5406to me; the threat I had heard weighed on my thoughts, but I did not
5407reflect that a voluntary act of mine could avert it.  I had resolved in
5408my own mind that to create another like the fiend I had first made
5409would be an act of the basest and most atrocious selfishness, and I
5410banished from my mind every thought that could lead to a different
5411conclusion.
5412
5413Between two and three in the morning the moon rose; and I then, putting
5414my basket aboard a little skiff, sailed out about four miles from the
5415shore.  The scene was perfectly solitary; a few boats were returning
5416towards land, but I sailed away from them.  I felt as if I was about
5417the commission of a dreadful crime and avoided with shuddering anxiety
5418any encounter with my fellow creatures.  At one time the moon, which
5419had before been clear, was suddenly overspread by a thick cloud, and I
5420took advantage of the moment of darkness and cast my basket into the
5421sea; I listened to the gurgling sound as it sank and then sailed away
5422from the spot.  The sky became clouded, but the air was pure, although
5423chilled by the northeast breeze that was then rising.  But it refreshed
5424me and filled me with such agreeable sensations that I resolved to
5425prolong my stay on the water, and fixing the rudder in a direct
5426position, stretched myself at the bottom of the boat.  Clouds hid the
5427moon, everything was obscure, and I heard only the sound of the boat as
5428its keel cut through the waves; the murmur lulled me, and in a short
5429time I slept soundly. I do not know how long I remained in this
5430situation, but when I awoke I found that the sun had already mounted
5431considerably.  The wind was high, and the waves continually threatened
5432the safety of my little skiff.  I found that the wind was northeast and
5433must have driven me far from the coast from which I had embarked.  I
5434endeavoured to change my course but quickly found that if I again made
5435the attempt the boat would be instantly filled with water.  Thus
5436situated, my only resource was to drive before the wind.  I confess
5437that I felt a few sensations of terror.  I had no compass with me and
5438was so slenderly acquainted with the geography of this part of the
5439world that the sun was of little benefit to me.  I might be driven into
5440the wide Atlantic and feel all the tortures of starvation or be
5441swallowed up in the immeasurable waters that roared and buffeted around
5442me.  I had already been out many hours and felt the torment of a
5443burning thirst, a prelude to my other sufferings.  I looked on the
5444heavens, which were covered by clouds that flew before the wind, only
5445to be replaced by others; I looked upon the sea; it was to be my grave.
5446"Fiend," I exclaimed, "your task is already fulfilled!"  I thought of
5447Elizabeth, of my father, and of Clerval--all left behind, on whom the
5448monster might satisfy his sanguinary and merciless passions.  This idea
5449plunged me into a reverie so despairing and frightful that even now,
5450when the scene is on the point of closing before me forever, I shudder
5451to reflect on it.
5452
5453Some hours passed thus; but by degrees, as the sun declined towards the
5454horizon, the wind died away into a gentle breeze and the sea became
5455free from breakers.  But these gave place to a heavy swell; I felt sick
5456and hardly able to hold the rudder, when suddenly I saw a line of high
5457land towards the south.
5458
5459Almost spent, as I was, by fatigue and the dreadful suspense I endured
5460for several hours, this sudden certainty of life rushed like a flood of
5461warm joy to my heart, and tears gushed from my eyes.
5462
5463How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we
5464have of life even in the excess of misery!  I constructed another sail
5465with a part of my dress and eagerly steered my course towards the land.
5466It had a wild and rocky appearance, but as I approached nearer I easily
5467perceived the traces of cultivation.  I saw vessels near the shore and
5468found myself suddenly transported back to the neighbourhood of
5469civilized man.  I carefully traced the windings of the land and hailed
5470a steeple which I at length saw issuing from behind a small promontory.
5471As I was in a state of extreme debility, I resolved to sail directly
5472towards the town, as a place where I could most easily procure
5473nourishment.  Fortunately I had money with me.
5474
5475As I turned the promontory I perceived a small neat town and a good
5476harbour, which I entered, my heart bounding with joy at my unexpected
5477escape.
5478
5479As I was occupied in fixing the boat and arranging the sails, several
5480people crowded towards the spot.  They seemed much surprised at my
5481appearance, but instead of offering me any assistance, whispered
5482together with gestures that at any other time might have produced in me
5483a slight sensation of alarm. As it was, I merely remarked that they
5484spoke English, and I therefore addressed them in that language.  "My
5485good friends," said I, "will you be so kind as to tell me the name of
5486this town and inform me where I am?"
5487
5488"You will know that soon enough," replied a man with a hoarse voice.
5489"Maybe you are come to a place that will not prove much to your taste,
5490but you will not be consulted as to your quarters, I promise you."
5491
5492I was exceedingly surprised on receiving so rude an answer from a
5493stranger, and I was also disconcerted on perceiving the frowning and
5494angry countenances of his companions.  "Why do you answer me so
5495roughly?"  I replied.  "Surely it is not the custom of Englishmen to
5496receive strangers so inhospitably."
5497
5498"I do not know," said the man, "what the custom of the English may be,
5499but it is the custom of the Irish to hate villains." While this strange
5500dialogue continued, I perceived the crowd rapidly increase.  Their
5501faces expressed a mixture of curiosity and anger, which annoyed  and in
5502some degree alarmed me.
5503
5504I inquired the way to the inn, but no one replied.  I then moved
5505forward, and a murmuring sound arose from the crowd as they followed
5506and surrounded me, when an ill-looking man approaching tapped me on the
5507shoulder and said, "Come, sir, you must follow me to Mr. Kirwin's to
5508give an account of yourself."
5509
5510"Who is Mr. Kirwin?  Why am I to give an account of myself?  Is not
5511this a free country?"
5512
5513"Ay, sir, free enough for honest folks.  Mr. Kirwin is a magistrate,
5514and you are to give an account of the death of a gentleman who was
5515found murdered here last night."
5516
5517This answer startled me, but I presently recovered myself.  I was
5518innocent; that could easily be proved; accordingly I followed my
5519conductor in silence and was led to one of the best houses in the town.
5520I was ready to sink from fatigue and hunger, but being surrounded by a
5521crowd, I thought it politic to rouse all my strength, that no physical
5522debility might be construed into apprehension or conscious guilt.
5523Little did I then expect the calamity that was in a few moments to
5524overwhelm me and extinguish in horror and despair all fear of ignominy
5525or death. I must pause here, for it requires all my fortitude to recall
5526the memory of the frightful events which I am about to relate, in
5527proper detail, to my recollection.
5528
5529
5530
5531Chapter 21
5532
5533I was soon introduced into the presence of the magistrate, an old
5534benevolent man with calm and mild manners.  He looked upon me, however,
5535with some degree of severity, and then, turning towards my conductors,
5536he asked who appeared as witnesses on this occasion.
5537
5538About half a dozen men came forward; and, one being selected by the
5539magistrate, he deposed that he had been out fishing the night before
5540with his son and brother-in-law, Daniel Nugent, when, about ten
5541o'clock, they observed a strong northerly blast rising, and they
5542accordingly put in for port.  It was a very dark night, as the moon had
5543not yet risen; they did not land at the harbour, but, as they had been
5544accustomed, at a creek about two miles below.  He walked on first,
5545carrying a part of the fishing tackle, and his companions followed him
5546at some distance.
5547
5548As he was proceeding along the sands, he struck his foot against
5549something and fell at his length on the ground. His companions came up
5550to assist him, and by the light of their lantern they found that he had
5551fallen on the body of a man, who was to all appearance dead.  Their
5552first supposition was that it was the corpse of some person who had
5553been drowned and was thrown on shore by the waves, but on examination
5554they found that the clothes were not wet and even that the body was not
5555then cold.  They instantly carried it to the cottage of an old woman
5556near the spot and endeavoured, but in vain, to restore it to life.  It
5557appeared to be a handsome young man, about five and twenty years of
5558age.  He had apparently been strangled, for there was no sign of any
5559violence except the black mark of fingers on his neck.
5560
5561The first part of this deposition did not in the least interest me, but
5562when the mark of the fingers was mentioned I remembered the murder of
5563my brother and felt myself extremely agitated; my limbs trembled, and a
5564mist came over my eyes, which obliged me to lean on a chair for
5565support.  The magistrate observed me with a keen eye and of course drew
5566an unfavourable augury from my manner.
5567
5568The son confirmed his father's account, but when Daniel Nugent was
5569called he swore positively that just before the fall of his companion,
5570he saw a boat, with a single man in it, at a short distance from the
5571shore; and as far as he could judge by the light of a few stars, it was
5572the same boat in which I had just landed.  A woman deposed that she
5573lived near the beach and was standing at the door of her cottage,
5574waiting for the return of the fishermen, about an hour before she heard
5575of the discovery of the body, when she saw a boat with only one man in
5576it push off from that part of the shore where the corpse was afterwards
5577found.
5578
5579Another woman confirmed the account of the fishermen having brought the
5580body into her house; it was not cold.  They put it into a bed and
5581rubbed it, and Daniel went to the town for an apothecary, but life was
5582quite gone.
5583
5584Several other men were examined concerning my landing, and they agreed
5585that, with the strong north wind that had arisen during the night, it
5586was very probable that I had beaten about for many hours and had been
5587obliged to return nearly to the same spot from which I had departed.
5588Besides, they observed that it appeared that I had brought the body
5589from another place, and it was likely that as I did not appear to know
5590the shore, I might have put into the harbour ignorant of the distance
5591of the town of ---- from the place where I had deposited the corpse.
5592
5593Mr. Kirwin, on hearing this evidence, desired that I should be taken
5594into the room where the body lay for interment, that it might be
5595observed what effect the sight of it would produce upon me.  This idea
5596was probably suggested by the extreme agitation I had exhibited when
5597the mode of the murder had been described.  I was accordingly
5598conducted, by the magistrate and several other persons, to the inn.  I
5599could not help being struck by the strange coincidences that had taken
5600place during this eventful night; but, knowing that I had been
5601conversing with several persons in the island I had inhabited about the
5602time that the body had been found, I was perfectly tranquil as to the
5603consequences of the affair.  I entered the room where the corpse lay
5604and was led up to the coffin.  How can I describe my sensations on
5605beholding it?  I feel yet parched with horror, nor can I reflect on
5606that terrible moment without shuddering and agony.  The examination,
5607the presence of the magistrate and witnesses, passed like a dream from
5608my memory when I saw the lifeless form of Henry Clerval stretched
5609before me.  I gasped for breath, and throwing myself on the body, I
5610exclaimed, "Have my murderous machinations deprived you also, my
5611dearest Henry, of life?  Two I have already destroyed; other victims
5612await their destiny; but you, Clerval, my friend, my benefactor--"
5613
5614The human frame could no longer support the agonies that I endured, and
5615I was carried out of the room in strong convulsions.  A fever succeeded
5616to this.  I lay for two months on the point of death; my ravings, as I
5617afterwards heard, were frightful; I called myself the murderer of
5618William, of Justine, and of Clerval.  Sometimes I entreated my
5619attendants to assist me in the destruction of the fiend by whom I was
5620tormented; and at others I felt the fingers of the monster already
5621grasping my neck, and screamed aloud with agony and terror.
5622Fortunately, as I spoke my native language, Mr. Kirwin alone understood
5623me; but my gestures and bitter cries were sufficient to affright the
5624other witnesses.  Why did I not die?  More miserable than man ever was
5625before, why did I not sink into forgetfulness and rest?  Death snatches
5626away many blooming children, the only hopes of their doting parents;
5627how many brides and youthful lovers have been one day in the bloom of
5628health and hope, and the next a prey for worms and the decay of the
5629tomb!  Of what materials was I made that I could thus resist so many
5630shocks, which, like the turning of the wheel, continually renewed the
5631torture?
5632
5633But I was doomed to live and in two months found myself as awaking from
5634a dream, in a prison, stretched on a wretched bed, surrounded by
5635jailers, turnkeys, bolts, and all the miserable apparatus of a dungeon.
5636It was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to understanding; I had
5637forgotten the particulars of what had happened and only felt as if some
5638great misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me; but when I looked around
5639and saw the barred windows and the squalidness of the room in which I
5640was, all flashed across my memory and I groaned bitterly.
5641
5642This sound disturbed an old woman who was sleeping in a chair beside
5643me.  She was a hired nurse, the wife of one of the turnkeys, and her
5644countenance expressed all those bad qualities which often characterize
5645that class.  The lines of her face were hard and rude, like that of
5646persons accustomed to see without sympathizing in sights of misery. Her
5647tone expressed her entire indifference; she addressed me in English,
5648and the voice struck me as one that I had heard during my sufferings.
5649"Are you better now, sir?" said she.
5650
5651I replied in the same language, with a feeble voice, "I believe I am;
5652but if it be all true, if indeed I did not dream, I am sorry that I am
5653still alive to feel this misery and horror."
5654
5655"For that matter," replied the old woman, "if you mean about the
5656gentleman you murdered, I believe that it were better for you if you
5657were dead, for I fancy it will go hard with you!  However, that's none
5658of my business; I am sent to nurse you and get you well; I do my duty
5659with a safe conscience; it were well if everybody did the same."
5660
5661I turned with loathing from the woman who could utter so unfeeling a
5662speech to a person just saved, on the very edge of death; but I felt
5663languid and unable to reflect on all that had passed.  The whole series
5664of my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed it
5665were all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the force
5666of reality.
5667
5668As the images that floated before me became more distinct, I grew
5669feverish; a darkness pressed around me; no one was near me who soothed
5670me with the gentle voice of love; no dear hand supported me.  The
5671physician came and prescribed medicines, and the old woman prepared
5672them for me; but utter carelessness was visible in the first, and the
5673expression of brutality was strongly marked in the visage of the
5674second.  Who could be interested in the fate of a murderer but the
5675hangman who would gain his fee?
5676
5677These were my first reflections, but I soon learned that Mr. Kirwin had
5678shown me extreme kindness.  He had caused the best room in the prison
5679to be prepared for me (wretched indeed was the best); and it was he who
5680had provided a physician and a nurse.  It is true, he seldom came to
5681see me, for although he ardently desired to relieve the sufferings of
5682every human creature, he did not wish to be present at the agonies and
5683miserable ravings of a murderer.  He came, therefore, sometimes to see
5684that I was not neglected, but his visits were short and with long
5685intervals.  One day, while I was gradually recovering, I was seated in
5686a chair, my eyes half open and my cheeks livid like those in death.  I
5687was overcome by gloom and misery and often reflected I had better seek
5688death than desire to remain in a world which to me was replete with
5689wretchedness.  At one time I considered whether I should not declare
5690myself guilty and suffer the penalty of the law, less innocent than
5691poor Justine had been.  Such were my thoughts when the door of my
5692apartment was opened and Mr. Kirwin entered.  His countenance expressed
5693sympathy and compassion; he drew a chair close to mine and addressed me
5694in French, "I fear that this place is very shocking to you; can I do
5695anything to make you more comfortable?"
5696
5697"I thank you, but all that you mention is nothing to me; on the whole
5698earth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving."
5699
5700"I know that the sympathy of a stranger can be but of little relief to
5701one borne down as you are by so strange a misfortune.  But you will, I
5702hope, soon quit this melancholy abode, for doubtless evidence can
5703easily be brought to free you from the criminal charge."
5704
5705"That is my least concern; I am, by a course of strange events, become
5706the most miserable of mortals.  Persecuted and tortured as I am and
5707have been, can death be any evil to me?"
5708
5709"Nothing indeed could be more unfortunate and agonizing than the
5710strange chances that have lately occurred.  You were thrown, by some
5711surprising accident, on this shore, renowned for its hospitality,
5712seized immediately, and charged with murder.  The first sight that was
5713presented to your eyes was the body of your friend, murdered in so
5714unaccountable a manner and placed, as it were, by some fiend across
5715your path."
5716
5717As Mr. Kirwin said this, notwithstanding the agitation I endured on
5718this retrospect of my sufferings, I also felt considerable surprise at
5719the knowledge he seemed to possess concerning me.  I suppose some
5720astonishment was exhibited in my countenance, for Mr. Kirwin hastened
5721to say, "Immediately upon your being taken ill, all the papers that
5722were on your person were brought me, and I examined them that I might
5723discover some trace by which I could send to your relations an account
5724of your misfortune and illness. I found several letters, and, among
5725others, one which I discovered from its commencement to be from your
5726father.  I instantly wrote to Geneva; nearly two months have elapsed
5727since the departure of my letter.  But you are ill; even now you
5728tremble; you are unfit for agitation of any kind."
5729
5730"This suspense is a thousand times worse than the most horrible event;
5731tell me what new scene of death has been acted, and whose murder I am
5732now to lament?"
5733
5734"Your family is perfectly well," said Mr. Kirwin with gentleness; "and
5735someone, a friend, is come to visit you."
5736
5737I know not by what chain of thought the idea presented itself, but it
5738instantly darted into my mind that the murderer had come to mock at my
5739misery and taunt me with the death of Clerval, as a new incitement for
5740me to comply with his hellish desires.  I put my hand before my eyes,
5741and cried out in agony, "Oh! Take him away!  I cannot see him; for
5742God's sake, do not let him enter!"
5743
5744Mr. Kirwin regarded me with a troubled countenance.  He could not help
5745regarding my exclamation as a presumption of my guilt and said in
5746rather a severe tone, "I should have thought, young man, that the
5747presence of your father would have been welcome instead of inspiring
5748such violent repugnance."
5749
5750"My father!" cried I, while every feature and every muscle was relaxed
5751from anguish to pleasure.  "Is my father indeed come?  How kind, how
5752very kind!  But where is he, why does he not hasten to me?"
5753
5754My change of manner surprised and pleased the magistrate; perhaps he
5755thought that my former exclamation was a momentary return of delirium,
5756and now he instantly resumed his former benevolence.  He rose and
5757quitted the room with my nurse, and in a moment my father entered it.
5758
5759Nothing, at this moment, could have given me greater pleasure than the
5760arrival of my father.  I stretched out my hand to him and cried, "Are
5761you, then, safe--and Elizabeth--and Ernest?" My father calmed me with
5762assurances of their welfare and endeavoured, by dwelling on these
5763subjects so interesting to my heart, to raise my desponding spirits;
5764but he soon felt that a prison cannot be the abode of cheerfulness.
5765
5766"What a place is this that you inhabit, my son!" said he, looking
5767mournfully at the barred windows and wretched appearance of the room.
5768"You travelled to seek happiness, but a fatality seems to pursue you.
5769And poor Clerval--"
5770
5771The name of my unfortunate and murdered friend was an agitation too
5772great to be endured in my weak state; I shed tears.  "Alas!  Yes, my
5773father," replied I; "some destiny of the most horrible kind hangs over
5774me, and I must live to fulfil it, or surely I should have died on the
5775coffin of Henry."
5776
5777We were not allowed to converse for any length of time, for the
5778precarious state of my health rendered every precaution necessary that
5779could ensure tranquillity.  Mr. Kirwin came in and insisted that my
5780strength should not be exhausted by too much exertion.  But the
5781appearance of my father was to me like that of my good angel, and I
5782gradually recovered my health.
5783
5784As my sickness quitted me, I was absorbed by a gloomy and black
5785melancholy that nothing could dissipate.  The image of Clerval was
5786forever before me, ghastly and murdered.  More than once the agitation
5787into which these reflections threw me made my friends dread a dangerous
5788relapse.  Alas!  Why did they preserve so miserable and detested a
5789life?  It was surely that I might fulfil my destiny, which is now
5790drawing to a close.  Soon, oh, very soon, will death extinguish these
5791throbbings and relieve me from the mighty weight of anguish that bears
5792me to the dust; and, in executing the award of justice, I shall also
5793sink to rest.  Then the appearance of death was distant, although the
5794wish was ever present to my thoughts; and I often sat for hours
5795motionless and speechless, wishing for some mighty revolution that
5796might bury me and my destroyer in its ruins.
5797
5798The season of the assizes approached.  I had already been three months
5799in prison, and although I was still weak and in continual danger of a
5800relapse, I was obliged to travel nearly a hundred miles to the country
5801town where the court was held.  Mr. Kirwin charged himself with every
5802care of collecting witnesses and arranging my defence.  I was spared
5803the disgrace of appearing publicly as a criminal, as the case was not
5804brought before the court that decides on life and death.  The grand
5805jury rejected the bill, on its being proved that I was on the Orkney
5806Islands at the hour the body of my friend was found; and a fortnight
5807after my removal I was liberated from prison.
5808
5809My father was enraptured on finding me freed from the vexations of a
5810criminal charge, that I was again allowed to breathe the fresh
5811atmosphere and permitted to return to my native country.  I did not
5812participate in these feelings, for to me the walls of a dungeon or a
5813palace were alike hateful.  The cup of life was poisoned forever, and
5814although the sun shone upon me, as upon the happy and gay of heart, I
5815saw around me nothing but a dense and frightful darkness, penetrated by
5816no light but the glimmer of two eyes that glared upon me.  Sometimes
5817they were the expressive eyes of Henry, languishing in death, the dark
5818orbs nearly covered by the lids and the long black lashes that fringed
5819them; sometimes it was the watery, clouded eyes of the monster, as I
5820first saw them in my chamber at Ingolstadt.
5821
5822My father tried to awaken in me the feelings of affection.  He talked
5823of Geneva, which I should soon visit, of Elizabeth and Ernest; but
5824these words only drew deep groans from me.  Sometimes, indeed, I felt a
5825wish for happiness and thought with melancholy delight of my beloved
5826cousin or longed, with a devouring maladie du pays, to see once more
5827the blue lake and rapid Rhone, that had been so dear to me in early
5828childhood; but my general state of feeling was a torpor in which a
5829prison was as welcome a residence as the divinest scene in nature; and
5830these fits were seldom interrupted but by paroxysms of anguish and
5831despair.  At these moments I often endeavoured to put an end to the
5832existence I loathed, and it required unceasing attendance and vigilance
5833to restrain me from committing some dreadful act of violence.
5834
5835Yet one duty remained to me, the recollection of which finally
5836triumphed over my selfish despair.  It was necessary that I should
5837return without delay to Geneva, there to watch over the lives of those
5838I so fondly loved and to lie in wait for the murderer, that if any
5839chance led me to the place of his concealment, or if he dared again to
5840blast me by his presence, I might, with unfailing aim, put an end to
5841the existence of the monstrous image which  I had endued with the
5842mockery of a soul still more monstrous.  My father still desired to
5843delay our departure, fearful that I could not sustain the fatigues of a
5844journey, for I was a shattered wreck--the shadow of a human being.  My
5845strength was gone.  I was a mere skeleton, and fever night and day
5846preyed upon my wasted frame.  Still, as I urged our leaving Ireland
5847with such inquietude and impatience, my father thought it best to
5848yield.  We took our passage on board a vessel bound for Havre-de-Grace
5849and sailed with a fair wind from the Irish shores.  It was midnight.  I
5850lay on the deck looking at the stars and listening to the dashing of
5851the waves.  I hailed the darkness that shut Ireland from my sight, and
5852my pulse beat with a feverish joy when I reflected that I should soon
5853see Geneva.  The past appeared to me in the light of a frightful dream;
5854yet the vessel in which I was, the wind that blew me from the detested
5855shore of Ireland, and the sea which surrounded me told me too forcibly
5856that I was deceived by no vision and that Clerval, my friend and
5857dearest companion, had fallen a victim to me and the monster of my
5858creation.  I repassed, in my memory, my whole life--my quiet happiness
5859while residing with my family in Geneva, the death of my mother, and my
5860departure for Ingolstadt.  I remembered, shuddering, the mad enthusiasm
5861that hurried me on to the creation of my hideous enemy, and I called to
5862mind the night in which he first lived.  I was unable to pursue the
5863train of thought; a thousand feelings pressed upon me, and I wept
5864bitterly.  Ever since my recovery from the fever I had been in the
5865custom of taking every night a small quantity of laudanum, for it was
5866by means of this drug only that I was enabled to gain the rest
5867necessary for the preservation of life.  Oppressed by the recollection
5868of my various misfortunes, I now swallowed double my usual quantity and
5869soon slept profoundly.  But sleep did not afford me respite from
5870thought and misery; my dreams presented a thousand objects that scared
5871me.  Towards morning I was possessed by a kind of nightmare; I felt the
5872fiend's grasp in my neck and could not free myself from it; groans and
5873cries rang in my ears.  My father, who was watching over me, perceiving
5874my restlessness, awoke me; the dashing waves were around, the cloudy
5875sky above, the fiend was not here: a sense of security, a feeling that
5876a truce was established between the present hour and the irresistible,
5877disastrous future imparted to me a kind of calm forgetfulness, of which
5878the human mind is by its structure peculiarly susceptible.
5879
5880
5881
5882Chapter 22
5883
5884The voyage came to an end.  We landed, and proceeded to Paris.  I soon
5885found that I had overtaxed my strength and that I must repose before I
5886could continue my journey.  My father's care and attentions were
5887indefatigable, but he did not know the origin of my sufferings and
5888sought erroneous methods to remedy the incurable ill.  He wished me to
5889seek amusement in society.  I abhorred the face of man.  Oh, not
5890abhorred!  They were my brethren, my fellow beings, and I felt
5891attracted even to the most repulsive among them, as to creatures of an
5892angelic nature and celestial mechanism.  But I felt that I had no right
5893to share their intercourse.  I had unchained an enemy among them whose
5894joy it was to shed their blood and to revel in their groans.  How they
5895would, each and all, abhor me and hunt me from the world did they know
5896my unhallowed acts and the crimes which had their source in me!
5897
5898My father yielded at length to my desire to avoid society and strove by
5899various arguments to banish my despair.  Sometimes he thought that I
5900felt deeply the degradation of being obliged to answer a charge of
5901murder, and he endeavoured to prove to me the futility of pride.
5902
5903"Alas!  My father," said I, "how little do you know me.  Human beings,
5904their feelings and passions, would indeed be degraded if such a wretch
5905as I felt pride.  Justine, poor unhappy Justine, was as innocent as I,
5906and she suffered the same charge; she died for it; and I am the cause
5907of this--I murdered her.  William, Justine, and Henry--they all died by
5908my hands."
5909
5910My father had often, during my imprisonment, heard me make the same
5911assertion; when I thus accused myself, he sometimes seemed to desire an
5912explanation, and at others he appeared to consider it as the offspring
5913of delirium, and that, during my illness, some idea of this kind had
5914presented itself to my imagination, the remembrance of which I
5915preserved in my convalescence.
5916
5917I avoided explanation and maintained a continual silence concerning the
5918wretch I had created.  I had a persuasion that I should be supposed
5919mad, and this in itself would forever have chained my tongue.  But,
5920besides, I could not bring myself to disclose a secret which would fill
5921my hearer with consternation and make fear and unnatural horror the
5922inmates of his breast.  I checked, therefore, my impatient thirst for
5923sympathy and was silent when I would have given the world to have
5924confided the fatal secret.  Yet, still, words like those I have
5925recorded would burst uncontrollably from me.  I could offer no
5926explanation of them, but their truth in part relieved the burden of my
5927mysterious woe.  Upon this occasion my father said, with an expression
5928of unbounded wonder, "My dearest Victor, what infatuation is this?  My
5929dear son, I entreat you never to make such an assertion again."
5930
5931"I am not mad," I cried energetically; "the sun and the heavens, who
5932have viewed my operations, can bear witness of my truth.  I am the
5933assassin of those most innocent victims; they died by my machinations.
5934A thousand times would I have shed my own blood, drop by drop, to have
5935saved their lives; but I could not, my father, indeed I could not
5936sacrifice the whole human race."
5937
5938The conclusion of this speech convinced my father that my ideas were
5939deranged, and he instantly changed the subject of our conversation and
5940endeavoured to alter the course of my thoughts.  He wished as much as
5941possible to obliterate the memory of the scenes that had taken place in
5942Ireland and never alluded to them or suffered me to speak of my
5943misfortunes.
5944
5945As time passed away I became more calm; misery had her dwelling in my
5946heart, but I no longer talked in the same incoherent manner of my own
5947crimes; sufficient for me was the consciousness of them.  By the utmost
5948self-violence I curbed the imperious voice of wretchedness, which
5949sometimes desired to declare itself to the whole world, and my manners
5950were calmer and more composed than they had ever been since my journey
5951to the sea of ice.  A few days before we left Paris on our way to
5952Switzerland, I received the following letter from Elizabeth:
5953
5954
5955"My dear Friend,
5956
5957"It gave me the greatest pleasure to receive a letter from my uncle
5958dated at Paris; you are no longer at a formidable distance, and I may
5959hope to see you in less than a fortnight.  My poor cousin, how much you
5960must have suffered!  I expect to see you looking even more ill than
5961when you quitted Geneva.  This winter has been passed most miserably,
5962tortured as I have been by anxious suspense; yet I hope to see peace in
5963your countenance and to find that your heart is not totally void of
5964comfort and tranquillity.
5965
5966"Yet I fear that the same feelings now exist that made you so miserable
5967a year ago, even perhaps augmented by time.  I would not disturb you at
5968this period, when so many misfortunes weigh upon you, but a
5969conversation that I had with my uncle previous to his departure renders
5970some explanation necessary before we meet.   Explanation!  You may
5971possibly say, What can Elizabeth have to explain?  If you really say
5972this, my questions are answered and all my doubts satisfied.  But you
5973are distant from me, and it is possible that you may dread and yet be
5974pleased with this explanation; and in a probability of this being the
5975case, I dare not any longer postpone writing what, during your absence,
5976I have often wished to express to you but have never had the courage to
5977begin.
5978
5979"You well know, Victor, that our union had been the favourite plan of
5980your parents ever since our infancy.  We were told this when young, and
5981taught to look forward to it as an event that would certainly take
5982place.  We were affectionate playfellows during childhood, and, I
5983believe, dear and valued friends to one another as we grew older. But
5984as brother and sister often entertain a lively affection towards each
5985other without desiring a more intimate union, may not such also be our
5986case?  Tell me, dearest Victor.  Answer me, I conjure you by our mutual
5987happiness, with simple truth--Do you not love another?
5988
5989"You have travelled; you have spent several years of your life at
5990Ingolstadt; and I confess to you, my friend, that when I saw you last
5991autumn so unhappy, flying to solitude from the society of every
5992creature, I could not help supposing that you might regret our
5993connection and believe yourself bound in honour to fulfil the wishes of
5994your parents, although they opposed themselves to your inclinations.
5995But this is false reasoning.  I confess to you, my friend, that I love
5996you and that in my airy dreams of futurity you have been my constant
5997friend and companion.   But it is your happiness I desire as well as my
5998own when I declare to you that our marriage would render me eternally
5999miserable unless it were the dictate of your own free choice.  Even now
6000I weep to think that, borne down as you are by the cruellest
6001misfortunes, you may stifle, by the word 'honour,' all hope of that
6002love and happiness which would alone restore you to yourself.  I, who
6003have so disinterested an affection for you, may increase your miseries
6004tenfold by being an obstacle to your wishes.  Ah! Victor, be assured
6005that your cousin and playmate has too sincere a love for you not to be
6006made miserable by this supposition.  Be happy, my friend; and if you
6007obey me in this one request, remain satisfied that nothing on earth
6008will have the power to interrupt my tranquillity.
6009
6010"Do not let this letter disturb you; do not answer tomorrow, or the
6011next day, or even until you come, if it will give you pain.  My uncle
6012will send me news of your health, and if I see but one smile on your
6013lips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, I
6014shall need no other happiness.
6015
6016                                                "Elizabeth Lavenza
6017
6018
6019    "Geneva, May 18th, 17--"
6020
6021
6022This letter revived in my memory what I had before forgotten, the
6023threat of the fiend--"I WILL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING-NIGHT!" Such
6024was my sentence, and on that night would the daemon employ every art to
6025destroy me and tear me from the glimpse of happiness which promised
6026partly to console my sufferings.  On that night he had determined to
6027consummate his crimes by my death.  Well, be it so; a deadly struggle
6028would then assuredly take place, in which if he were victorious I
6029should be at peace and his power over me be at an end.  If he were
6030vanquished, I should be a free man.  Alas!  What freedom?  Such as the
6031peasant enjoys when his family have been massacred before his eyes, his
6032cottage burnt, his lands laid waste, and he is turned adrift, homeless,
6033penniless, and alone, but free. Such would be my liberty except that in
6034my Elizabeth I possessed a treasure, alas, balanced by those horrors of
6035remorse and guilt which would pursue me until death.
6036
6037Sweet and beloved Elizabeth!  I read and reread her letter, and some
6038softened feelings stole into my heart and dared to whisper paradisiacal
6039dreams of love and joy; but the apple was already eaten, and the
6040angel's arm bared to drive me from all hope.  Yet I would die to make
6041her happy.  If the monster executed his threat, death was inevitable;
6042yet, again, I considered whether my marriage would hasten my fate.  My
6043destruction might indeed arrive a few months sooner, but if my torturer
6044should suspect that I postponed it, influenced by his menaces, he would
6045surely find other and perhaps more dreadful means of revenge.
6046
6047He had vowed TO BE WITH ME ON MY WEDDING-NIGHT, yet he did not consider
6048that threat as binding him to peace in the meantime, for as if to show
6049me that he was not yet satiated with blood, he had murdered Clerval
6050immediately after the enunciation of his threats.  I resolved,
6051therefore, that if my immediate union with my cousin would conduce
6052either to hers or my father's happiness, my adversary's designs against
6053my life should not retard it a single hour.
6054
6055In this state of mind I wrote to Elizabeth.  My letter was calm and
6056affectionate.  "I fear, my beloved girl," I said, "little happiness
6057remains for us on earth; yet all that I may one day enjoy is centred in
6058you.  Chase away your idle fears; to you alone do I consecrate my life
6059and my endeavours for contentment.  I have one secret, Elizabeth, a
6060dreadful one; when revealed to you, it will chill your frame with
6061horror, and then, far from being surprised at my misery, you will only
6062wonder that I survive what I have endured.  I will confide this tale of
6063misery and terror to you the day after our marriage shall take place,
6064for, my sweet cousin, there must be perfect confidence between us.  But
6065until then, I conjure you, do not mention or allude to it.  This I most
6066earnestly entreat, and I know you will comply."
6067
6068In about a week after the arrival of Elizabeth's letter we returned to
6069Geneva.  The sweet girl welcomed me with warm affection, yet tears were
6070in her eyes as she beheld my emaciated frame and feverish  cheeks.  I
6071saw a change in her also.  She was thinner and had lost much of that
6072heavenly vivacity that had before charmed me; but her gentleness and
6073soft looks of compassion made her a more fit companion for one blasted
6074and miserable as I was.  The tranquillity which I now enjoyed did not
6075endure.  Memory brought madness with it, and when I thought of what had
6076passed, a real insanity possessed me; sometimes I was furious and burnt
6077with rage, sometimes low and despondent.  I neither spoke nor looked at
6078anyone, but sat motionless, bewildered by the multitude of miseries
6079that overcame me.
6080
6081Elizabeth alone had the power to draw me from these fits; her gentle
6082voice would soothe me when transported by passion and inspire me with
6083human feelings when sunk in torpor.  She wept with me and for me.  When
6084reason returned, she would remonstrate and endeavour to inspire me with
6085resignation.  Ah!  It is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but
6086for the guilty there is no peace.  The agonies of remorse poison the
6087luxury there is otherwise sometimes found in indulging the excess of
6088grief.  Soon after my arrival my father spoke of my immediate marriage
6089with Elizabeth.  I remained silent.
6090
6091"Have you, then, some other attachment?"
6092
6093"None on earth.  I love Elizabeth and look forward to our union with
6094delight.  Let the day therefore be fixed; and on it I will consecrate
6095myself, in life or death, to the happiness of my cousin."
6096
6097"My dear Victor, do not speak thus.  Heavy misfortunes have befallen
6098us, but let us only cling closer to what remains and transfer our love
6099for those whom we have lost to those who yet live.  Our circle will be
6100small but bound close by the ties of affection and mutual misfortune.
6101And when time shall have softened your despair, new and dear objects of
6102care will be born to replace those of whom we have been so cruelly
6103deprived."
6104
6105Such were the lessons of my father.  But to me the remembrance of the
6106threat returned; nor can you wonder that, omnipotent as the fiend had
6107yet been in his deeds of blood, I should almost regard him as
6108invincible, and that when he had pronounced the words "I SHALL BE WITH
6109YOU ON YOUR WEDDING-NIGHT," I should regard the threatened fate as
6110unavoidable.  But death was no evil to me if the loss of Elizabeth were
6111balanced with it, and I therefore, with a contented and even cheerful
6112countenance, agreed with my father that if my cousin would consent, the
6113ceremony should take place in ten days, and thus put, as I imagined,
6114the seal to my fate.
6115
6116Great God!  If for one instant I had thought what might be the hellish
6117intention of my fiendish adversary, I would rather have banished myself
6118forever from my native country and wandered a friendless outcast over
6119the earth than have consented to this miserable marriage.  But, as if
6120possessed of magic powers, the monster had blinded me to his real
6121intentions; and when I thought that I had prepared only my own death, I
6122hastened that of a far dearer victim.
6123
6124As the period fixed for our marriage drew nearer, whether from
6125cowardice or a prophetic feeling, I felt my heart sink within me.  But
6126I concealed my feelings by an appearance of hilarity that brought
6127smiles and joy to the countenance of my father, but hardly deceived the
6128ever-watchful and nicer eye of Elizabeth.  She looked forward to our
6129union with placid contentment, not unmingled with a little fear, which
6130past misfortunes had impressed, that what now appeared certain and
6131tangible happiness might soon dissipate into an airy dream and leave no
6132trace but deep and everlasting regret.  Preparations were made for the
6133event, congratulatory visits were received, and all wore a smiling
6134appearance.  I shut up, as well as I could, in my own heart the anxiety
6135that preyed there and entered with seeming earnestness into the plans
6136of my father, although they might only serve as the decorations of my
6137tragedy.  Through my father's exertions a part of the inheritance of
6138Elizabeth had been restored to her by the Austrian government.  A small
6139possession on the shores of Como belonged to her.  It was agreed that,
6140immediately after our union, we should proceed to Villa Lavenza and
6141spend our first days of happiness beside the beautiful lake near which
6142it stood.
6143
6144In the meantime I took every precaution to defend my person in case the
6145fiend should openly attack me.  I carried pistols and a dagger
6146constantly about me and was ever on the watch to prevent artifice, and
6147by these means gained a greater degree of tranquillity.  Indeed, as the
6148period approached, the threat appeared more as a delusion, not to be
6149regarded as worthy to disturb my peace, while the happiness I hoped for
6150in my marriage wore a greater appearance of certainty as the day fixed
6151for its solemnization drew nearer and I heard it continually spoken of
6152as an occurrence which no accident could possibly prevent.
6153
6154Elizabeth seemed happy; my tranquil demeanour contributed greatly to
6155calm her mind.  But on the day that was to fulfil my wishes and my
6156destiny, she was melancholy, and a presentiment of evil pervaded her;
6157and perhaps also she thought of the dreadful secret which I had
6158promised to reveal to her on the following day.  My father was in the
6159meantime overjoyed and in the bustle of preparation only recognized in
6160the melancholy of his niece the diffidence of a bride.
6161
6162After the ceremony was performed a large party assembled at my
6163father's, but it was agreed that Elizabeth and I should commence our
6164journey by water, sleeping that night at Evian and continuing our
6165voyage on the following day.  The day was fair, the wind favourable;
6166all smiled on our nuptial embarkation.
6167
6168Those were the last moments of my life during which I enjoyed the
6169feeling of happiness.  We passed rapidly along; the sun was hot, but we
6170were sheltered from its rays by a kind of canopy while we enjoyed the
6171beauty of the scene, sometimes on one side of the lake, where we saw
6172Mont Saleve, the pleasant banks of Montalegre, and at a distance,
6173surmounting all, the beautiful Mont Blanc and the assemblage of snowy
6174mountains that in vain endeavour to emulate her; sometimes coasting the
6175opposite banks, we saw the mighty Jura opposing its dark side to the
6176ambition that would quit its native country, and an almost
6177insurmountable barrier to the invader who should wish to enslave it.
6178
6179I took the hand of Elizabeth.  "You are sorrowful, my love.  Ah!  If
6180you knew what I have suffered and what I may yet endure, you would
6181endeavour to let me taste the quiet and freedom from despair that this
6182one day at least permits me to enjoy."
6183
6184"Be happy, my dear Victor," replied Elizabeth; "there is, I hope,
6185nothing to distress you; and be assured that if a lively joy is not
6186painted in my face, my heart is contented.  Something whispers to me
6187not to depend too much on the prospect that is opened before us, but I
6188will not listen to such a sinister voice.  Observe how fast we move
6189along and how the clouds, which sometimes obscure and sometimes rise
6190above the dome of Mont Blanc, render this scene of beauty still more
6191interesting.  Look also at the innumerable fish that are swimming in
6192the clear waters, where we can distinguish every pebble that lies at
6193the bottom.  What a divine day!  How happy and serene all nature
6194appears!"
6195
6196Thus Elizabeth endeavoured to divert her thoughts and mine from all
6197reflection upon melancholy subjects.  But her temper was fluctuating;
6198joy for a few instants shone in her eyes, but it continually gave place
6199to distraction and reverie.
6200
6201The sun sank lower in the heavens; we passed the river Drance and
6202observed its path through the chasms of the higher and the glens of the
6203lower hills.  The Alps here come closer to the lake, and we approached
6204the amphitheatre of mountains which forms its eastern boundary.  The
6205spire of Evian shone under the woods that surrounded it and the range
6206of mountain above mountain by which it was overhung.
6207
6208The wind, which had hitherto carried us along with amazing rapidity,
6209sank at sunset to a light breeze; the soft air just ruffled the water
6210and caused a pleasant motion among the trees as we approached the
6211shore, from which it wafted the most delightful scent of flowers and
6212hay.  The sun sank beneath the horizon as we landed, and as I touched
6213the shore I felt those cares and fears revive which soon were to clasp
6214me and cling to me forever.
6215
6216
6217
6218Chapter 23
6219
6220It was eight o'clock when we landed; we walked for a short time on the
6221shore, enjoying the transitory light, and then retired to the inn and
6222contemplated the lovely scene of waters, woods, and mountains, obscured
6223in darkness, yet still displaying their black outlines.
6224
6225The wind, which had fallen in the south, now rose with great violence
6226in the west.  The moon had reached her summit in the heavens and was
6227beginning to descend; the clouds swept across it swifter than the
6228flight of the vulture and dimmed her rays, while the lake reflected the
6229scene of the busy heavens, rendered still busier by the restless waves
6230that were beginning to rise.  Suddenly a heavy storm of rain descended.
6231
6232I had been calm during the day, but so soon as night obscured the
6233shapes of objects, a thousand fears arose in my mind.  I was anxious
6234and watchful, while my right hand grasped a pistol which was hidden in
6235my bosom; every sound terrified me, but I resolved that I would sell my
6236life dearly and not shrink from the conflict until my own life or that
6237of my adversary was extinguished.  Elizabeth observed my agitation for
6238some time in timid and fearful silence, but there was something in my
6239glance which communicated terror to her, and trembling, she asked,
6240"What is it that agitates you, my dear Victor?  What is it you fear?"
6241
6242"Oh!  Peace, peace, my love," replied I; "this night, and all will be
6243safe; but this night is dreadful, very dreadful."
6244
6245I passed an hour in this state of mind, when suddenly I reflected how
6246fearful the combat which I momentarily expected would be to my wife,
6247and I earnestly entreated her to retire, resolving not to join her
6248until I had obtained some knowledge as to the situation of my enemy.
6249
6250She left me, and I continued some time walking up and down the passages
6251of the house and inspecting every corner that might afford a retreat to
6252my adversary.  But I discovered no trace of him and was beginning to
6253conjecture that some fortunate chance had intervened to prevent the
6254execution of his menaces when suddenly I heard a shrill and dreadful
6255scream.  It came from the room into which Elizabeth had retired.  As I
6256heard it, the whole truth rushed into my mind, my arms dropped, the
6257motion of every muscle and fibre was suspended; I could feel the blood
6258trickling in my veins and tingling in the extremities of my limbs. This
6259state lasted but for an instant; the scream was repeated, and I rushed
6260into the room.  Great God!  Why did I not then expire!  Why am I here
6261to relate the destruction of the best hope and the purest creature on
6262earth?  She was there, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the bed,
6263her head hanging down and her pale and distorted features half covered
6264by her hair.  Everywhere I turn I see the same figure--her bloodless
6265arms and relaxed form flung by the murderer on its bridal bier.  Could
6266I behold this and live?  Alas!  Life is obstinate and clings closest
6267where it is most hated.  For a moment only did I lose recollection; I
6268fell senseless on the ground.
6269
6270When I recovered I found myself surrounded by the people of the inn;
6271their countenances expressed a breathless terror, but the horror of
6272others appeared only as a mockery, a shadow of the feelings that
6273oppressed me.  I escaped from them to the room where lay the body of
6274Elizabeth, my love, my wife, so lately living, so dear, so worthy.  She
6275had been moved from the posture in which I had first beheld her, and
6276now, as she lay, her head upon her arm and a handkerchief thrown across
6277her face and neck, I might have supposed her asleep. I rushed towards
6278her and embraced her with ardour, but the deadly languor and coldness
6279of the limbs told me that what I now held in my arms had ceased to be
6280the Elizabeth whom I had loved and cherished.  The murderous mark of
6281the fiend's grasp was on her neck, and the breath had ceased to issue
6282from her lips.  While I still hung over her in the agony of despair, I
6283happened to look up.  The windows of the room had before been darkened,
6284and I felt a kind of panic on seeing the pale yellow light of the moon
6285illuminate the chamber.  The shutters had been thrown back, and with a
6286sensation of horror not to be described, I saw at the open window a
6287figure the most hideous and abhorred.  A grin was on the face of the
6288monster; he seemed to jeer, as with his fiendish finger he pointed
6289towards the corpse of my wife.  I rushed towards the window, and
6290drawing a pistol from my bosom, fired; but he eluded me, leaped from
6291his station, and running with the swiftness of lightning, plunged into
6292the lake.
6293
6294The report of the pistol brought a crowd into the room. I pointed to
6295the spot where he had disappeared, and we followed the track with
6296boats; nets were cast, but in vain.  After passing several hours, we
6297returned hopeless, most of my companions believing it to have been a
6298form conjured up by my fancy.  After having landed, they proceeded to
6299search the country, parties going in different directions among the
6300woods and vines.
6301
6302I attempted to accompany them and proceeded a short distance from the
6303house, but my head whirled round, my steps were like those of a drunken
6304man, I fell at last in a state of utter exhaustion; a film covered my
6305eyes, and my skin was parched with the heat of fever.  In this state I
6306was carried back and placed on a bed, hardly conscious of what had
6307happened; my eyes wandered round the room as if to seek something that
6308I had lost.
6309
6310After an interval I arose, and as if by instinct, crawled into the room
6311where the corpse of my beloved lay.  There were women weeping around; I
6312hung over it and joined my sad tears to theirs; all this time no
6313distinct idea presented itself to my mind, but my thoughts rambled to
6314various subjects, reflecting confusedly on my misfortunes and their
6315cause.  I was bewildered, in a cloud of wonder and horror.  The death
6316of William, the execution of Justine, the murder of Clerval, and lastly
6317of my wife; even at that moment I knew not that my only remaining
6318friends were safe from the malignity of the fiend; my father even now
6319might be writhing under his grasp, and Ernest might be dead at his
6320feet.  This idea made me shudder and recalled me to action.  I started
6321up and resolved to return to Geneva with all possible speed.
6322
6323There were no horses to be procured, and I must return by the lake; but
6324the wind was unfavourable, and the rain fell in torrents.  However, it
6325was hardly morning, and I might reasonably hope to arrive by night.  I
6326hired men to row and took an oar myself, for I had always experienced
6327relief from mental torment in bodily exercise.  But the overflowing
6328misery I now felt, and the excess of agitation that I endured rendered
6329me incapable of any exertion.  I threw down the oar, and leaning my
6330head upon my hands, gave way to every gloomy idea that arose.  If I
6331looked up, I saw scenes which were familiar to me in my happier time
6332and which I had contemplated but the day before in the company of her
6333who was now but a shadow and a recollection.  Tears streamed from my
6334eyes.  The rain had ceased for a moment, and I saw the fish play in the
6335waters as they had done a few hours before; they had then been observed
6336by Elizabeth.  Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and
6337sudden change.  The sun might shine or the clouds might lower, but
6338nothing could appear to me as it had done the day before.  A fiend had
6339snatched from me every hope of future happiness; no creature had ever
6340been so miserable as I was; so frightful an event is single in the
6341history of man. But why should I dwell upon the incidents that followed
6342this last overwhelming event?  Mine has been a tale of horrors; I have
6343reached their acme, and what I must now relate can but be tedious to
6344you.  Know that, one by one, my friends were snatched away; I was left
6345desolate.  My own strength is exhausted, and I must tell, in a few
6346words, what remains of my hideous narration. I arrived at Geneva.  My
6347father and Ernest yet lived, but the former sunk under the tidings that
6348I bore.  I see him now, excellent and venerable old man!  His eyes
6349wandered in vacancy, for they had lost their charm and their
6350delight--his Elizabeth, his more than daughter, whom he doted on with
6351all that affection which a man feels, who in the decline of life,
6352having few affections, clings more earnestly to those that remain.
6353Cursed, cursed be the fiend that brought misery on his grey hairs and
6354doomed him to waste in wretchedness!  He could not live under the
6355horrors that were accumulated around him; the springs of existence
6356suddenly gave way; he was unable to rise from his bed, and in a few
6357days he died in my arms.
6358
6359What then became of me?  I know not; I lost sensation, and chains and
6360darkness were the only objects that pressed upon me.  Sometimes,
6361indeed, I dreamt that I wandered in flowery meadows and pleasant vales
6362with the friends of my youth, but I awoke and found myself in a
6363dungeon.  Melancholy followed, but by degrees I gained a clear
6364conception of my miseries and situation and was then released from my
6365prison.  For they had called me mad, and during many months, as I
6366understood, a solitary cell had been my habitation.
6367
6368Liberty, however, had been a useless gift to me, had I not, as I
6369awakened to reason, at the same time awakened to revenge.  As the
6370memory of past misfortunes pressed upon me, I began to reflect on their
6371cause--the monster whom I had created, the miserable daemon whom I had
6372sent abroad into the world for my destruction.  I was possessed by a
6373maddening rage when I thought of him, and desired and ardently prayed
6374that I might have him within my grasp to wreak a great and signal
6375revenge on his cursed head.
6376
6377Nor did my hate long confine itself to useless wishes; I began to
6378reflect on the best means of securing him; and for this purpose, about
6379a month after my release, I repaired to a criminal judge in the town
6380and told him that I had an accusation to make, that I knew the
6381destroyer of my family, and that I required him to exert his whole
6382authority for the apprehension of the murderer.  The magistrate
6383listened to me with attention and kindness.
6384
6385"Be assured, sir," said he, "no pains or exertions on my part shall be
6386spared to discover the villain."
6387
6388"I thank you," replied I; "listen, therefore, to the deposition that I
6389have to make.  It is indeed a tale so strange that I should fear you
6390would not credit it were there not something in truth which, however
6391wonderful, forces conviction.  The story is too connected to be
6392mistaken for a dream, and I have no motive for falsehood." My manner as
6393I thus addressed him was impressive but calm; I had formed in my own
6394heart a resolution to pursue my destroyer to death, and this purpose
6395quieted my agony and for an interval reconciled me to life.  I now
6396related my history briefly but with firmness and precision, marking the
6397dates with accuracy and never deviating into invective or exclamation.
6398
6399The magistrate appeared at first perfectly incredulous, but as I
6400continued he became more attentive and interested; I saw him sometimes
6401shudder with horror; at others a lively surprise, unmingled with
6402disbelief, was painted on his countenance.  When I had concluded my
6403narration I said, "This is the being whom I accuse and for whose
6404seizure and punishment I call upon you to exert your whole power.  It
6405is your duty as a magistrate, and I believe and hope that your feelings
6406as a man will not revolt from the execution of those functions on this
6407occasion."  This address caused a considerable change in the
6408physiognomy of my own auditor.  He had heard my story with that half
6409kind of belief that is given to a tale of spirits and supernatural
6410events; but when he was called upon to act officially in consequence,
6411the whole tide of his incredulity returned.  He, however, answered
6412mildly, "I would willingly afford you every aid in your pursuit, but
6413the creature of whom you speak appears to have powers which would put
6414all my exertions to defiance.  Who can follow an animal which can
6415traverse the sea of ice and inhabit caves and dens where no man would
6416venture to intrude?  Besides, some months have elapsed since the
6417commission of his crimes, and no one can conjecture to what place he
6418has wandered or what region he may now inhabit."
6419
6420"I do not doubt that he hovers near the spot which I inhabit, and if he
6421has indeed taken refuge in the Alps, he may be hunted like the chamois
6422and destroyed as a beast of prey.  But I perceive your thoughts; you do
6423not credit my narrative and do not intend to pursue my enemy with the
6424punishment which is his desert." As I spoke, rage sparkled in my eyes;
6425the magistrate was intimidated.  "You are mistaken," said he.  "I will
6426exert myself, and if it is in my power to seize the monster, be assured
6427that he shall suffer punishment proportionate to his crimes.  But I
6428fear, from what you have yourself described to be his properties, that
6429this will prove impracticable; and thus, while every proper measure is
6430pursued, you should make up your mind to disappointment."
6431
6432"That cannot be; but all that I can say will be of little avail.  My
6433revenge is of no moment to you; yet, while I allow it to be a vice, I
6434confess that it is the devouring and only passion of my soul.  My rage
6435is unspeakable when I reflect that the murderer, whom I have turned
6436loose upon society, still exists.  You refuse my just demand; I have
6437but one resource, and I devote myself, either in my life or death, to
6438his destruction."
6439
6440I trembled with excess of agitation as I said this; there was a frenzy
6441in my manner, and something, I doubt not, of that haughty fierceness
6442which the martyrs of old are said to have possessed.  But to a Genevan
6443magistrate, whose mind was occupied by far other ideas than those of
6444devotion and heroism, this elevation of mind had much the appearance of
6445madness.  He endeavoured to soothe me as a nurse does a child and
6446reverted to my tale as the effects of delirium.
6447
6448"Man," I cried, "how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom!  Cease;
6449you know not what it is you say."
6450
6451I broke from the house angry and disturbed and retired to meditate on
6452some other mode of action.
6453
6454
6455
6456Chapter 24
6457
6458My present situation was one in which all voluntary thought was
6459swallowed up and lost.  I was hurried away by fury; revenge alone
6460endowed me with strength and composure; it moulded my feelings and
6461allowed me to be calculating and calm at periods when otherwise
6462delirium or death would have been my portion.
6463
6464My first resolution was to quit Geneva forever; my country, which, when
6465I was happy and beloved, was dear to me, now, in my adversity, became
6466hateful.  I provided myself with a sum of money, together with a few
6467jewels which had belonged to my mother, and departed.  And now my
6468wanderings began which are to cease but with life.  I have traversed a
6469vast portion of the earth and have endured all the hardships which
6470travellers in deserts and barbarous countries are wont to meet.  How I
6471have lived I hardly know; many times have I stretched my failing limbs
6472upon the sandy plain and prayed for death.  But revenge kept me alive;
6473I dared not die and leave my adversary in being.
6474
6475When I quitted Geneva my first labour was to gain some clue by which I
6476might trace the steps of my fiendish enemy.  But my plan was unsettled,
6477and I wandered many hours round the confines of the town, uncertain
6478what path I should pursue.  As night approached I found myself at the
6479entrance of the cemetery where William, Elizabeth, and my father
6480reposed.  I entered it and approached the tomb which marked their
6481graves.  Everything was silent except the leaves of the trees, which
6482were gently agitated by the wind; the night was nearly dark, and the
6483scene would have been solemn and affecting even to an uninterested
6484observer.  The spirits of the departed seemed to flit around and to
6485cast a shadow, which was felt but not seen, around the head of the
6486mourner.
6487
6488The deep grief which this scene had at first excited quickly gave way
6489to rage and despair.  They were dead, and I lived; their murderer also
6490lived, and to destroy him I must drag out my weary existence.  I knelt
6491on the grass and kissed the earth and with quivering lips exclaimed,
6492"By the sacred earth on which I kneel, by the shades that wander near
6493me, by the deep and eternal grief that I feel, I swear; and by thee, O
6494Night, and the spirits that preside over thee, to pursue the daemon who
6495caused this misery, until he or I shall perish in mortal conflict.  For
6496this purpose I will preserve my life; to execute this dear revenge will
6497I again behold the sun and tread the green herbage of earth, which
6498otherwise should vanish from my eyes forever.  And I call on you,
6499spirits of the dead, and on you, wandering ministers of vengeance, to
6500aid and conduct me in my work.  Let the cursed and hellish monster
6501drink deep of agony; let him feel the despair that now torments me."  I
6502had begun my adjuration with solemnity and an awe which almost assured
6503me that the shades of my murdered friends heard and approved my
6504devotion, but the furies possessed me as I concluded, and rage choked
6505my utterance.
6506
6507I was answered through the stillness of night by a loud and fiendish
6508laugh.  It rang on my ears long and heavily; the mountains re-echoed
6509it, and I felt as if all hell surrounded me with mockery and laughter.
6510Surely in that moment I should have been possessed by frenzy and have
6511destroyed my miserable existence but that my vow was heard and that I
6512was reserved for vengeance.  The laughter died away, when a well-known
6513and abhorred voice, apparently close to my ear, addressed me in an
6514audible whisper, "I am satisfied, miserable wretch!  You have
6515determined to live, and I am satisfied."
6516
6517I darted towards the spot from which the sound proceeded, but the devil
6518eluded my grasp.  Suddenly the broad disk of the moon arose and shone
6519full upon his ghastly and distorted shape as he fled with more than
6520mortal speed.
6521
6522I pursued him, and for many months this has been my task.  Guided by a
6523slight clue, I followed the windings of the Rhone, but vainly.  The
6524blue Mediterranean appeared, and by a strange chance, I saw the fiend
6525enter by night and hide himself in a vessel bound for the Black Sea.  I
6526took my passage in the same ship, but he escaped, I know not how.
6527
6528Amidst the wilds of Tartary and Russia, although he still evaded me, I
6529have ever followed in his track.  Sometimes the peasants, scared by
6530this horrid apparition, informed me of his path; sometimes he himself,
6531who feared that if I lost all trace of him I should despair and die,
6532left some mark to guide me.  The snows descended on my head, and I saw
6533the print of his huge step on the white plain.  To you first entering
6534on life, to whom care is new and agony unknown, how can you understand
6535what I have felt and still feel?  Cold, want, and fatigue were the
6536least pains which I was destined to endure; I was cursed by some devil
6537and carried about with me my eternal hell; yet still a spirit of good
6538followed and directed my steps and when I most murmured would suddenly
6539extricate me from seemingly insurmountable difficulties.  Sometimes,
6540when nature, overcome by hunger, sank under the exhaustion, a repast
6541was prepared for me in the desert that restored and inspirited me.  The
6542fare was, indeed, coarse, such as the peasants of the country ate, but
6543I will not doubt that it was set there by the spirits that I had
6544invoked to aid me.  Often, when all was dry, the heavens cloudless, and
6545I was parched by thirst, a slight cloud would bedim the sky, shed the
6546few drops that revived me, and vanish.
6547
6548I followed, when I could, the courses of the rivers; but the daemon
6549generally avoided these, as it was here that the population of the
6550country chiefly collected.  In other places human beings were seldom
6551seen, and I generally subsisted on the wild animals that crossed my
6552path.  I had money with me and gained the friendship of the villagers
6553by distributing it; or I brought with me some food that I had killed,
6554which, after taking a small part, I always presented to those who had
6555provided me with fire and utensils for cooking.
6556
6557My life, as it passed thus, was indeed hateful to me, and it was during
6558sleep alone that I could taste joy.  O blessed sleep!  Often, when most
6559miserable, I sank to repose, and my dreams lulled me even to rapture.
6560The spirits that guarded me had provided these moments, or rather
6561hours, of happiness that I might retain strength to fulfil my
6562pilgrimage.  Deprived of this respite, I should have sunk under my
6563hardships.  During the day I was sustained and inspirited by the hope
6564of night, for in sleep I saw my friends, my wife, and my beloved
6565country; again I saw the benevolent countenance of my father, heard the
6566silver tones of my Elizabeth's voice, and beheld Clerval enjoying
6567health and youth.  Often, when wearied by a toilsome march, I persuaded
6568myself that I was dreaming until night should come and that I should
6569then enjoy reality in the arms of my dearest friends.  What agonizing
6570fondness did I feel for them!  How did I cling to their dear forms, as
6571sometimes they haunted even my waking hours, and persuade myself that
6572they still lived!  At such moments vengeance, that burned within me,
6573died in my heart, and I pursued my path towards the destruction of the
6574daemon more as a task enjoined by heaven, as the mechanical impulse of
6575some power of which I was unconscious, than as the ardent desire of my
6576soul.  What his feelings were whom I pursued I cannot know.  Sometimes,
6577indeed, he left marks in writing on the barks of the trees or cut in
6578stone that guided me and instigated my fury.  "My reign is not yet
6579over"--these words were legible in one of these inscriptions--"you
6580live, and my power is complete.  Follow me; I seek the everlasting ices
6581of the north, where you will feel the misery of cold and frost, to
6582which I am impassive.  You will find near this place, if you follow not
6583too tardily, a dead hare; eat and be refreshed.  Come on, my enemy; we
6584have yet to wrestle for our lives, but many hard and miserable hours
6585must you endure until that period shall arrive."
6586
6587Scoffing devil!  Again do I vow vengeance; again do I devote thee,
6588miserable fiend, to torture and death.  Never will I give up my search
6589until he or I perish; and then with what ecstasy shall I join my
6590Elizabeth and my departed friends, who even now prepare for me the
6591reward of my tedious toil and horrible pilgrimage!
6592
6593As I still pursued my journey to the northward, the snows thickened and
6594the cold increased in a degree almost too severe to support.  The
6595peasants were shut up in their hovels, and only a few of the most hardy
6596ventured forth to seize the animals whom starvation had forced from
6597their hiding-places to seek for prey.  The rivers were covered with
6598ice, and no fish could be procured; and thus I was cut off from my
6599chief article of maintenance.  The triumph of my enemy increased with
6600the difficulty of my labours.  One inscription that he left was in
6601these words:  "Prepare!  Your toils only begin; wrap yourself in furs
6602and provide food, for we shall soon enter upon a journey where your
6603sufferings will satisfy my everlasting hatred."
6604
6605My courage and perseverance were invigorated by these scoffing words; I
6606resolved not to fail in my purpose, and calling on heaven to support
6607me, I continued with unabated fervour to traverse immense deserts,
6608until the ocean appeared at a distance and formed the utmost boundary
6609of the horizon.  Oh!  How unlike it was to the blue seasons of the
6610south!  Covered with ice, it was only to be distinguished from land by
6611its superior wildness and ruggedness.  The Greeks wept for joy when
6612they beheld the Mediterranean from the hills of Asia, and hailed with
6613rapture the boundary of their toils.  I did not weep, but I knelt down
6614and with a full heart thanked my guiding spirit for conducting me in
6615safety to the place where I hoped, notwithstanding my adversary's gibe,
6616to meet and grapple with him.
6617
6618Some weeks before this period I had procured a sledge and dogs and thus
6619traversed the snows with inconceivable speed.  I know not whether the
6620fiend possessed the same advantages, but I found that, as before I had
6621daily lost ground in the pursuit, I now gained on him, so much so that
6622when I first saw the ocean he was but one day's journey in advance, and
6623I hoped to intercept him before he should reach the beach.  With new
6624courage, therefore, I pressed on, and in two days arrived at a wretched
6625hamlet on the seashore.  I inquired of the inhabitants concerning the
6626fiend and gained accurate information.  A gigantic monster, they said,
6627had arrived the night before, armed with a gun and many pistols,
6628putting to flight the inhabitants of a solitary cottage through fear of
6629his terrific appearance.  He had carried off their store of winter
6630food, and placing it in a sledge, to draw which he had seized on a
6631numerous drove of trained dogs, he had harnessed them, and the same
6632night, to the joy of the horror-struck villagers, had pursued his
6633journey across the sea in a direction that led to no land; and they
6634conjectured that he must speedily be destroyed by the breaking of the
6635ice or frozen by the eternal  frosts.
6636
6637On hearing this information I suffered a temporary access of despair.
6638He had escaped me, and I must commence a destructive and almost endless
6639journey across the mountainous ices of the ocean, amidst cold that few
6640of the inhabitants could long endure and which I, the native of a
6641genial and sunny climate, could not hope to survive.  Yet at the idea
6642that the fiend should live and be triumphant, my rage and vengeance
6643returned, and like a mighty tide, overwhelmed every other feeling.
6644After a slight repose, during which the spirits of the dead hovered
6645round and instigated me to toil and revenge, I prepared for my journey.
6646I exchanged my land-sledge for one fashioned for the inequalities of
6647the frozen ocean, and purchasing a plentiful stock of provisions, I
6648departed from land.
6649
6650I cannot guess how many days have passed since then, but I have endured
6651misery which nothing but the eternal sentiment of a just retribution
6652burning within my heart could have enabled me to support.  Immense and
6653rugged mountains of ice often barred up my passage, and I often heard
6654the thunder of the ground sea, which threatened my destruction.  But
6655again the frost came and made the paths of the sea secure.
6656
6657By the quantity of provision which I had consumed, I should guess that
6658I had passed three weeks in this journey; and the continual protraction
6659of hope, returning back upon the heart, often wrung bitter drops of
6660despondency and grief from my eyes.  Despair had indeed almost secured
6661her prey, and I should soon have sunk beneath this misery.  Once, after
6662the poor animals that conveyed me had with incredible toil gained the
6663summit of a sloping ice mountain, and one, sinking under his fatigue,
6664died, I viewed the expanse before me with anguish, when suddenly my eye
6665caught a dark speck upon the dusky plain.  I strained my sight to
6666discover what it could be and uttered a wild cry of ecstasy when I
6667distinguished a sledge and the distorted proportions of a well-known
6668form within.  Oh!  With what a burning gush did hope revisit my heart!
6669Warm tears filled my eyes, which I hastily wiped away, that they might
6670not intercept the view I had of the daemon; but still my sight was
6671dimmed by the burning drops, until, giving way to the emotions that
6672oppressed me, I wept aloud.
6673
6674But this was not the time for delay; I disencumbered the dogs of their
6675dead companion, gave them a plentiful portion of food, and after an
6676hour's rest, which was absolutely necessary, and yet which was bitterly
6677irksome to me, I continued my route.  The sledge was still visible, nor
6678did I again lose sight of it except at the moments when for a short
6679time some ice-rock concealed it with its intervening crags.  I indeed
6680perceptibly gained on it, and when, after nearly two days' journey, I
6681beheld my enemy at no more than a mile distant, my heart bounded within
6682me.
6683
6684But now, when I appeared almost within grasp of my foe, my hopes were
6685suddenly extinguished, and I lost all trace of him more utterly than I
6686had ever done before.  A ground sea was heard; the thunder of its
6687progress, as the waters rolled and swelled beneath me, became every
6688moment more ominous and terrific.  I pressed on, but in vain.  The wind
6689arose; the sea roared; and, as with the mighty shock of an earthquake,
6690it split and cracked with a tremendous and overwhelming sound.  The
6691work was soon finished; in a few minutes a tumultuous sea rolled
6692between me and my enemy, and I was left drifting on a scattered piece
6693of ice that was continually lessening and thus preparing for me a
6694hideous death.  In this manner many appalling hours passed; several of
6695my dogs died, and I myself was about to sink under the accumulation of
6696distress when I saw your vessel riding at anchor and holding forth to
6697me hopes of succour and life.  I had no conception that vessels ever
6698came so far north and was astounded at the sight.  I quickly destroyed
6699part of my sledge to construct oars, and by these means was enabled,
6700with infinite fatigue, to move my ice raft in the direction of your
6701ship.  I had determined, if you were going southwards, still to trust
6702myself to the mercy of the seas rather than abandon my purpose.  I
6703hoped to induce you to grant me a boat with which I could pursue my
6704enemy.  But your direction was northwards.  You took me on board when
6705my vigour was exhausted, and I should soon have sunk under my
6706multiplied hardships into a death which I still dread, for my task is
6707unfulfilled.
6708
6709Oh!  When will my guiding spirit, in conducting me to the daemon, allow
6710me the rest I so much desire; or must I die, and he yet live?  If I do,
6711swear to me, Walton, that he shall not escape, that you will seek him
6712and satisfy my vengeance in his death.  And do I dare to ask of you to
6713undertake my pilgrimage, to endure the hardships that I have undergone?
6714No; I am not so selfish.  Yet, when I am dead, if he should appear, if
6715the ministers of vengeance should conduct him to you, swear that he
6716shall not live--swear that he shall not triumph over my accumulated
6717woes and survive to add to the list of his dark crimes.  He is eloquent
6718and persuasive, and once his words had even power over my heart; but
6719trust him not.  His soul is as hellish as his form, full of treachery
6720and fiend-like malice.  Hear him not; call on the names of William,
6721Justine, Clerval, Elizabeth, my father, and of the wretched Victor, and
6722thrust your sword into his heart.  I will hover near and direct the
6723steel aright.
6724
6725
6726               Walton, in continuation.
6727
6728
6729
6730                                                August 26th, 17--
6731
6732
6733You have read this strange and terrific story, Margaret; and do you not
6734feel your blood congeal with horror, like that which even now curdles
6735mine?  Sometimes, seized with sudden agony, he could not continue his
6736tale; at others, his voice broken, yet piercing, uttered with
6737difficulty the words so replete with anguish.  His fine and lovely eyes
6738were now lighted up with indignation, now subdued to downcast sorrow
6739and quenched in infinite wretchedness.  Sometimes he commanded his
6740countenance and tones and related the most horrible incidents with a
6741tranquil voice, suppressing every mark of agitation; then, like a
6742volcano bursting forth, his face would suddenly change to an expression
6743of the wildest rage as he shrieked out imprecations on his persecutor.
6744
6745His tale is connected and told with an appearance of the simplest
6746truth, yet I own to you that the letters of Felix and Safie, which he
6747showed me, and the apparition of the monster seen from our ship,
6748brought to me a greater conviction of the truth of his narrative than
6749his asseverations, however earnest and connected.  Such a monster has,
6750then, really existence!  I cannot doubt it, yet I am lost in surprise
6751and admiration.  Sometimes I endeavoured to gain from Frankenstein the
6752particulars of his creature's formation, but on this point he was
6753impenetrable. "Are you mad, my friend?" said he.  "Or whither does your
6754senseless curiosity lead you?  Would you also create for yourself and
6755the world a demoniacal enemy?  Peace, peace!  Learn my miseries and do
6756not seek to increase your own."  Frankenstein discovered that I made
6757notes concerning his history; he asked to see them and then himself
6758corrected and augmented them in many places, but principally in giving
6759the life and spirit to the conversations he held with his enemy. "Since
6760you have preserved my narration," said he, "I would not that a
6761mutilated one should go down to posterity."
6762
6763Thus has a week passed away, while I have listened to the strangest
6764tale that ever imagination formed.  My thoughts and every feeling of my
6765soul have been drunk up by the interest for my guest which this tale
6766and his own elevated and gentle manners have created.  I wish to soothe
6767him, yet can I counsel one so infinitely miserable, so destitute of
6768every hope of consolation, to live?  Oh, no!  The only joy that he can
6769now know will be when he composes his shattered spirit to peace and
6770death.  Yet he enjoys one comfort, the offspring of solitude and
6771delirium; he believes that when in dreams he holds converse with his
6772friends and derives from that communion consolation for his miseries or
6773excitements to his vengeance, that they are not the creations of his
6774fancy, but the beings themselves who visit him from the regions of a
6775remote world.  This faith gives a solemnity to his reveries that render
6776them to me almost as imposing and interesting as truth.
6777
6778Our conversations are not always confined to his own history and
6779misfortunes.  On every point of general literature he displays
6780unbounded knowledge and a quick and piercing apprehension.  His
6781eloquence is forcible and touching; nor can I hear him, when he relates
6782a pathetic incident or endeavours to move the passions of pity or love,
6783without tears.  What a glorious creature must he have been in the days
6784of his prosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike in ruin!  He seems
6785to feel his own worth and the greatness of his fall.
6786
6787"When younger," said he, "I believed myself destined for some great
6788enterprise.  My feelings are profound, but I possessed a  coolness of
6789judgment that fitted me for illustrious achievements.  This sentiment
6790of the worth of my nature supported me when others would have been
6791oppressed, for I deemed it criminal to throw away in useless grief
6792those talents that might be useful to my fellow creatures.  When I
6793reflected on the work I had completed, no less a one than the creation
6794of a sensitive and rational animal, I could not rank myself with the
6795herd of common projectors.  But this thought, which supported me in the
6796commencement of my career, now serves only to plunge me lower in the
6797dust.  All my speculations and hopes are as nothing, and like the
6798archangel who aspired to omnipotence, I am chained in an eternal hell.
6799My imagination was vivid, yet my powers of analysis and application
6800were intense; by the union of these qualities I conceived the idea and
6801executed the creation of a man.  Even now I cannot recollect without
6802passion my reveries while the work was incomplete.  I trod heaven in my
6803thoughts, now exulting in my powers, now burning with the idea of their
6804effects.  From my infancy I was imbued with high hopes and a lofty
6805ambition; but how am I sunk!  Oh!  My friend, if you had known me as I
6806once was, you would not recognize me in this state of degradation.
6807Despondency rarely visited my heart; a high destiny seemed to bear me
6808on, until I fell, never, never again to rise."  Must I then lose this
6809admirable being?  I have longed for a friend; I have sought one who
6810would sympathize with and love me.  Behold, on these desert seas I have
6811found such a one, but I fear I have gained him only to know his value
6812and lose him.  I would reconcile him to life, but he repulses the idea.
6813
6814"I thank you, Walton," he said, "for your kind intentions towards so
6815miserable a wretch; but when you speak of new ties and fresh
6816affections, think you that any can replace those who are gone?  Can any
6817man be to me as Clerval was, or any woman another Elizabeth?  Even
6818where the affections are not strongly moved by any superior excellence,
6819the companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our
6820minds which hardly any later friend can obtain.  They know our
6821infantine dispositions, which, however they may be afterwards modified,
6822are never eradicated; and they can judge of our actions with more
6823certain conclusions as to the integrity of our motives.  A sister or a
6824brother can never, unless indeed such symptoms have been shown early,
6825suspect the other of fraud or false dealing, when another friend,
6826however strongly he may be attached, may, in spite of himself, be
6827contemplated with suspicion.  But I enjoyed friends, dear not only
6828through habit and association, but from their own merits; and wherever
6829I am, the soothing voice of my Elizabeth and the conversation of
6830Clerval will be ever whispered in my ear. They are dead, and but one
6831feeling in such a solitude can persuade me to preserve my life.  If I
6832were engaged in any high undertaking or design, fraught with extensive
6833utility to my fellow creatures, then could I live to fulfil it.  But
6834such is not my destiny; I must pursue and destroy the being to whom I
6835gave existence; then my lot on earth will be fulfilled and I may die."
6836
6837
6838
6839
6840September 2nd
6841
6842My beloved Sister,
6843
6844I write to you, encompassed by peril and ignorant whether I am ever
6845doomed to see again dear England and the dearer friends that inhabit
6846it.  I am surrounded by mountains of ice which admit of no escape and
6847threaten every moment to crush my vessel.  The brave fellows whom I
6848have persuaded to be my companions look towards me for aid, but I have
6849none to bestow.  There is something terribly appalling in our
6850situation, yet my courage and hopes do not desert me.  Yet it is
6851terrible to reflect that the lives of all these men are endangered
6852through me.  If we are lost, my mad schemes are the cause.
6853
6854And what, Margaret, will be the state of your mind?  You will not hear
6855of my destruction, and you will anxiously await my return.  Years will
6856pass, and you will have visitings of despair and yet be tortured by
6857hope.  Oh!  My beloved sister, the sickening failing of your heart-felt
6858expectations is, in prospect, more terrible to me than my own death.
6859
6860But you have a husband and lovely children; you may be happy.  Heaven
6861bless you and make you so!
6862
6863My unfortunate guest regards me with the tenderest compassion.  He
6864endeavours to fill me with hope and talks as if life were a possession
6865which he valued.  He reminds me how often the same accidents have
6866happened to other navigators who have attempted this sea, and in spite
6867of myself, he fills me with cheerful auguries.  Even the sailors feel
6868the power of his eloquence; when he speaks, they no longer despair; he
6869rouses their energies, and while they hear his voice they believe these
6870vast mountains of ice are mole-hills which will vanish before the
6871resolutions of man.  These feelings are transitory; each day of
6872expectation delayed fills them with fear, and I almost dread a mutiny
6873caused by this despair.
6874
6875
6876
6877September 5th
6878
6879
6880A scene has just passed of such uncommon interest that, although it is
6881highly probable that these papers may never reach you, yet I cannot
6882forbear recording it.
6883
6884We are still surrounded by mountains of ice, still in imminent danger
6885of being crushed in their conflict.  The cold is excessive, and many of
6886my unfortunate comrades have already found a grave amidst this scene of
6887desolation.  Frankenstein has daily declined in health; a feverish fire
6888still glimmers in his eyes, but he is exhausted, and when suddenly
6889roused to any exertion, he speedily sinks again into apparent
6890lifelessness.
6891
6892I mentioned in my last letter the fears I entertained of a mutiny.
6893This morning, as I sat watching the wan countenance of my friend--his
6894eyes half closed and his limbs hanging listlessly--I was roused by half
6895a dozen of the sailors, who demanded admission into the cabin.  They
6896entered, and their leader addressed me.  He told me that he and his
6897companions had been chosen by the other sailors to come in deputation
6898to me to make me a requisition which, in justice, I could not refuse.
6899We were immured in ice and should probably never escape, but they
6900feared that if, as was possible, the ice should dissipate and a free
6901passage be opened, I should be rash enough to continue my voyage and
6902lead them into fresh dangers, after they might happily have surmounted
6903this.  They insisted, therefore, that I should engage with a solemn
6904promise that if the vessel should be freed I would instantly direct my
6905course southwards.
6906
6907This speech troubled me.  I had not despaired, nor had I yet conceived
6908the idea of returning if set free.  Yet could I, in justice, or even in
6909possibility, refuse this demand?  I hesitated before I answered, when
6910Frankenstein, who had at first been silent, and indeed appeared hardly
6911to have force enough to attend, now roused himself; his eyes sparkled,
6912and his cheeks flushed with momentary vigour.  Turning towards the men,
6913he said, "What do you mean?  What do you demand of your captain?  Are
6914you, then, so easily turned from your design?  Did you not call this a
6915glorious expedition?
6916
6917"And wherefore was it glorious?  Not because the way was smooth and
6918placid as a southern sea, but because it was full of dangers and
6919terror, because at every new incident your fortitude was to be called
6920forth and your courage exhibited, because danger and death surrounded
6921it, and these you were to brave and overcome.  For this was it a
6922glorious, for this was it an honourable undertaking.  You were
6923hereafter to be hailed as the benefactors of your species, your names
6924adored as belonging to brave men who encountered death for honour and
6925the benefit of mankind. And now, behold, with the first imagination of
6926danger, or, if you will, the first mighty and terrific trial of your
6927courage, you shrink away and are content to be handed down as men who
6928had not strength enough to endure cold and peril; and so, poor souls,
6929they were chilly and returned to their warm firesides.  Why, that
6930requires not this preparation; ye need not have come thus far and
6931dragged your captain to the shame of a defeat merely to prove
6932yourselves cowards.  Oh!  Be men, or be more than men.  Be steady to
6933your purposes and firm as a rock. This ice is not made of such stuff as
6934your hearts may be; it is mutable and cannot withstand you if you say
6935that it shall not.  Do not return to your families with the stigma of
6936disgrace marked on your brows.  Return as heroes who have fought and
6937conquered and who know not what it is to turn their backs on the foe."
6938He spoke this with a voice so modulated to the different feelings
6939expressed in his speech, with an eye so full of lofty design and
6940heroism, that can you wonder that these men were moved?  They looked at
6941one another and were unable to reply.  I spoke; I told them to retire
6942and consider of what had been said, that I would not lead them farther
6943north if they strenuously desired the contrary, but that I hoped that,
6944with reflection, their courage would return.  They retired and I turned
6945towards my friend, but he was sunk in languor and almost deprived of
6946life.
6947
6948How all this will terminate, I know not, but I had rather die than
6949return shamefully, my purpose unfulfilled.  Yet I fear such will be my
6950fate; the men, unsupported by ideas of glory and honour, can never
6951willingly continue to endure their present hardships.
6952
6953
6954
6955September 7th
6956
6957
6958The die is cast; I have consented to return if we are not destroyed.
6959Thus are my hopes blasted by cowardice and indecision; I come back
6960ignorant and disappointed.  It requires more philosophy than I possess
6961to bear this injustice with patience.
6962
6963
6964
6965September 12th
6966
6967
6968It is past; I am returning to England.  I have lost my hopes of utility
6969and glory; I have lost my friend.  But I will endeavour to detail these
6970bitter circumstances to you, my dear sister; and while I am wafted
6971towards England and towards you, I will not despond.
6972
6973September 9th, the ice began to move, and roarings like thunder were
6974heard at a distance as the islands split and cracked in every
6975direction.  We were in the most imminent peril, but as we could only
6976remain passive, my chief attention was occupied by my unfortunate guest
6977whose illness increased in such a degree that he was entirely confined
6978to his bed.  The ice cracked behind us and was driven with force
6979towards the north; a breeze sprang from the west, and on the 11th the
6980passage towards the south became perfectly free.  When the sailors saw
6981this and that their return to their native country was apparently
6982assured, a shout of tumultuous joy broke from them, loud and
6983long-continued.  Frankenstein, who was dozing, awoke and asked the
6984cause of the tumult.  "They shout," I said, "because they will soon
6985return to England."
6986
6987"Do you, then, really return?"
6988
6989"Alas!  Yes; I cannot withstand their demands.  I cannot lead them
6990unwillingly to danger, and I must return."
6991
6992"Do so, if you will; but I will not.  You may give up your purpose, but
6993mine is assigned to me by heaven, and I dare not.  I am weak, but
6994surely the spirits who assist my vengeance will endow me with
6995sufficient strength."  Saying this, he endeavoured to spring from the
6996bed, but the exertion was too great for him; he fell back and fainted.
6997
6998It was long before he was restored, and I often thought that life was
6999entirely extinct.  At length he opened his eyes; he breathed with
7000difficulty and was unable to speak.  The surgeon gave him a composing
7001draught and ordered us to leave him undisturbed. In the meantime he
7002told me that my friend had certainly not many hours to live.
7003
7004His sentence was pronounced, and I could only grieve and be patient.  I
7005sat by his bed, watching him; his eyes were closed, and I thought he
7006slept; but presently he called to me in a feeble voice, and bidding me
7007come near, said, "Alas!  The strength I relied on is gone; I feel that
7008I shall soon die, and he, my enemy and persecutor, may still be in
7009being.  Think not, Walton, that in the last moments of my existence I
7010feel that burning hatred and ardent desire of revenge I once expressed;
7011but I feel myself justified in desiring the death of my adversary.
7012During these last days I have been occupied in examining my past
7013conduct; nor do I find it blamable.  In a fit of enthusiastic madness I
7014created a rational creature and was bound towards him to assure, as far
7015as was in my power, his happiness and well-being.
7016
7017"This was my duty, but there was another still paramount to that.  My
7018duties towards the beings of my own species had greater claims to my
7019attention because they included a greater proportion of happiness or
7020misery.  Urged by this view, I refused, and I did right in refusing, to
7021create a companion for the first creature.  He showed unparalleled
7022malignity and selfishness in evil; he destroyed my friends; he devoted
7023to destruction beings who possessed exquisite sensations, happiness,
7024and wisdom; nor do I know where this thirst for vengeance may end.
7025Miserable himself that he may render no other wretched, he ought to
7026die.  The task of his destruction was mine, but I have failed.  When
7027actuated by selfish and vicious motives, I asked you to undertake my
7028unfinished work, and I renew this request now, when I am only induced
7029by reason and virtue.
7030
7031"Yet I cannot ask you to renounce your country and friends to fulfil
7032this task; and now that you are returning to England, you will have
7033little chance of meeting with him.  But the consideration of these
7034points, and the well balancing of what you may esteem your duties, I
7035leave to you; my judgment and ideas are already disturbed by the near
7036approach of death.  I dare not ask you to do what I think right, for I
7037may still be misled by passion.
7038
7039"That he should live to be an instrument of mischief disturbs me; in
7040other respects, this hour, when I momentarily expect my release, is the
7041only happy one which I have enjoyed for several years.  The forms of
7042the beloved dead flit before me, and I hasten to their arms.  Farewell,
7043Walton!  Seek happiness in tranquillity and avoid ambition, even if it
7044be only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in
7045science and discoveries.  Yet why do I say this?  I have myself been
7046blasted in these hopes, yet another may succeed."
7047
7048His voice became fainter as he spoke, and at length, exhausted by his
7049effort, he sank into silence.  About half an hour afterwards he
7050attempted again to speak but was unable; he pressed my hand feebly, and
7051his eyes closed forever, while the irradiation of a gentle smile passed
7052away from his lips.
7053
7054Margaret, what comment can I make on the untimely extinction of this
7055glorious spirit?  What can I say that will enable you to understand the
7056depth of my sorrow?  All that I should express would be inadequate and
7057feeble.  My tears flow; my mind is overshadowed by a cloud of
7058disappointment.  But I journey towards England, and I may there find
7059consolation.
7060
7061I am interrupted.  What do these sounds portend?  It is midnight; the
7062breeze blows fairly, and the watch on deck scarcely stir.  Again there
7063is a sound as of a human voice, but hoarser; it comes from the cabin
7064where the remains of Frankenstein still lie.  I must arise and examine.
7065Good night, my sister.
7066
7067Great God! what a scene has just taken place!  I am yet dizzy with the
7068remembrance of it.  I hardly know whether I shall have the power to
7069detail it; yet the tale which I have recorded would be incomplete
7070without this final and wonderful catastrophe. I entered the cabin where
7071lay the remains of my ill-fated and admirable friend.  Over him hung a
7072form which I cannot find words to describe--gigantic in stature, yet
7073uncouth and distorted in its proportions.  As he hung over the coffin,
7074his face was concealed by long locks of ragged hair; but one vast hand
7075was extended, in colour and apparent texture like that of a mummy. When
7076he heard the sound of my approach, he ceased to utter exclamations of
7077grief and horror and sprung towards the window.  Never did I behold a
7078vision so horrible as his face, of such loathsome yet appalling
7079hideousness.  I shut my eyes involuntarily and endeavoured to recollect
7080what were my duties with regard to this destroyer.  I called on him to
7081stay.
7082
7083He paused, looking on me with wonder, and again turning towards the
7084lifeless form of his creator, he seemed to forget my presence, and
7085every feature and gesture seemed instigated by the wildest rage of some
7086uncontrollable passion.
7087
7088"That is also my victim!" he exclaimed.  "In his murder my crimes are
7089consummated; the miserable series of my being is wound to its close!
7090Oh, Frankenstein!  Generous and self-devoted being!  What does it avail
7091that I now ask thee to pardon me?  I, who irretrievably destroyed thee
7092by destroying all thou lovedst.  Alas!  He is cold, he cannot answer
7093me." His voice seemed suffocated, and my first impulses, which had
7094suggested to me the duty of obeying the dying request of my friend in
7095destroying his enemy, were now suspended by a mixture of curiosity and
7096compassion.  I approached this tremendous being; I dared not again
7097raise my eyes to his face, there was something so scaring and unearthly
7098in his ugliness.  I attempted to speak, but the words died away on my
7099lips.  The monster continued to utter wild and incoherent
7100self-reproaches.  At length I gathered resolution to address him in a
7101pause of the tempest of his passion.
7102
7103"Your repentance," I said, "is now superfluous. If you had listened to
7104the voice of conscience and heeded the stings of remorse before you had
7105urged your diabolical vengeance to this extremity, Frankenstein would
7106yet have lived."
7107
7108"And do you dream?" said the daemon.  "Do you think that I was then
7109dead to agony and remorse?  He," he continued, pointing to the corpse,
7110"he suffered not in the consummation of the deed. Oh!  Not the
7111ten-thousandth portion of the anguish that was mine during the
7112lingering detail of its execution.  A frightful selfishness hurried me
7113on, while my heart was poisoned with remorse.  Think you that the
7114groans of Clerval were music to my ears?  My heart was fashioned to be
7115susceptible of love and sympathy, and when wrenched by misery to vice
7116and hatred, it did not endure the violence of the change without
7117torture such as you cannot even imagine.
7118
7119"After the murder of Clerval I returned to Switzerland, heart-broken
7120and overcome.  I pitied Frankenstein; my pity amounted to horror; I
7121abhorred myself.  But when I discovered that he, the author at once of
7122my existence and of its unspeakable torments, dared to hope for
7123happiness, that while he accumulated wretchedness and despair upon me
7124he sought his own enjoyment in feelings and passions from the
7125indulgence of which I was forever barred, then impotent envy and bitter
7126indignation filled me with an insatiable thirst for vengeance.  I
7127recollected my threat and resolved that it should be accomplished.  I
7128knew that I was preparing for myself a deadly torture, but I was the
7129slave, not the master, of an impulse which I detested yet could not
7130disobey.  Yet when she died!  Nay, then I was not miserable.  I had
7131cast off all feeling, subdued all anguish, to riot in the excess of my
7132despair.  Evil thenceforth became my good.  Urged thus far, I had no
7133choice but to adapt my nature to an element which I had willingly
7134chosen.  The completion of my demoniacal design became an insatiable
7135passion.  And now it is ended; there is my last victim!"
7136
7137I was at first touched by the expressions of his misery; yet, when I
7138called to mind what Frankenstein had said of his powers of eloquence
7139and persuasion, and when I again cast my eyes on the lifeless form of
7140my friend, indignation was rekindled within me.  "Wretch!" I said.  "It
7141is well that you come here to whine over the desolation that you have
7142made.  You throw a torch into a pile of buildings, and when they are
7143consumed, you sit among the ruins and lament the fall.  Hypocritical
7144fiend!  If he whom you mourn still lived, still would he be the object,
7145again would he become the prey, of your accursed vengeance.  It is not
7146pity that you feel; you lament only because the victim of your
7147malignity is withdrawn from your power."
7148
7149"Oh, it is not thus--not thus," interrupted the being.  "Yet such must
7150be the impression conveyed to you by what appears to be the purport of
7151my actions.  Yet I seek not a fellow feeling in my misery.  No sympathy
7152may I ever find.  When I first sought it, it was the love of virtue,
7153the feelings of happiness and affection with which my whole being
7154overflowed, that I wished to be participated.  But now that virtue has
7155become to me a shadow, and that happiness and affection are turned into
7156bitter and loathing despair, in what should I seek for sympathy?  I am
7157content to suffer alone while my sufferings shall endure; when I die, I
7158am well satisfied that abhorrence and opprobrium should load my memory.
7159Once my fancy was soothed with dreams of virtue, of fame, and of
7160enjoyment.  Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings who, pardoning my
7161outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I was
7162capable of unfolding.  I was nourished with high thoughts of honour and
7163devotion.  But now crime has degraded me beneath the meanest animal. No
7164guilt, no mischief, no malignity, no misery, can be found comparable to
7165mine.  When I run over the frightful catalogue of my sins, I cannot
7166believe that I am the same creature whose thoughts were once filled
7167with sublime and transcendent visions of the beauty and the majesty of
7168goodness.  But it is even so; the fallen angel becomes a malignant
7169devil.  Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates
7170in his desolation; I am alone.
7171
7172"You, who call Frankenstein your friend, seem to have a knowledge of my
7173crimes and his misfortunes. But in the detail which he gave you of them
7174he could not sum up the hours and months of misery which I endured
7175wasting in impotent passions. For while I destroyed his hopes, I did
7176not satisfy my own desires. They were forever ardent and craving; still
7177I desired love and fellowship, and I was still spurned.  Was there no
7178injustice in this? Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all
7179humankind sinned against me? Why do you not hate Felix, who drove his
7180friend from his door with contumely? Why do you not execrate the rustic
7181who sought to destroy the saviour of his child? Nay, these are virtuous
7182and immaculate beings! I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an
7183abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on. Even now my
7184blood boils at the recollection of this injustice.
7185
7186"But it is true that I am a wretch.  I have murdered the lovely and the
7187helpless; I have strangled the innocent as they slept and grasped to
7188death his throat who never injured me or any other living thing.  I
7189have devoted my creator, the select specimen of all that is worthy of
7190love and admiration among men, to misery; I have pursued him even to
7191that irremediable ruin.
7192
7193"There he lies, white and cold in death.  You hate me, but your
7194abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself.  I look on the
7195hands which executed the deed; I think on the heart in which the
7196imagination of it was conceived and long for the moment when these
7197hands will meet my eyes, when that imagination will haunt my thoughts
7198no more.
7199
7200"Fear not that I shall be the instrument of future mischief.  My work
7201is nearly complete.  Neither yours nor any man's death is needed to
7202consummate the series of my being and accomplish that which must be
7203done, but it requires my own.  Do not think that I shall be slow to
7204perform this sacrifice.  I shall quit your vessel on the ice raft which
7205brought me thither and shall seek the most northern extremity of the
7206globe; I shall collect my funeral pile and consume to ashes this
7207miserable frame, that its remains may afford no light to any curious
7208and unhallowed wretch who would create such another as I have been.  I
7209shall die.  I shall no longer feel the agonies which now consume me or
7210be the prey of feelings unsatisfied, yet unquenched.  He is dead who
7211called me into being; and when I shall be no more, the very remembrance
7212of us both will speedily vanish.  I shall no longer see the sun or
7213stars or feel the winds play on my cheeks.
7214
7215"Light, feeling, and sense will pass away; and in this condition must I
7216find my happiness.  Some years ago, when the images which this world
7217affords first opened upon me, when I felt the cheering warmth of summer
7218and heard the rustling of the leaves and the warbling of the birds, and
7219these were all to me, I should have wept to die; now it is my only
7220consolation.  Polluted by crimes and torn by the bitterest remorse,
7221where can I find rest but in death?
7222
7223"Farewell!  I leave you, and in you the last of humankind whom these
7224eyes will ever behold. Farewell, Frankenstein! If thou wert yet alive
7225and yet cherished a desire of revenge against me, it would be better
7226satiated in my life than in my destruction. But it was not so; thou
7227didst seek my extinction, that I might not cause greater wretchedness;
7228and if yet, in some mode unknown to me, thou hadst not ceased to think
7229and feel, thou wouldst not desire against me a vengeance greater than
7230that which I feel. Blasted as thou wert, my agony was still superior to
7231thine, for the bitter sting of remorse will not cease to rankle in my
7232wounds until death shall close them forever.
7233
7234"But soon," he cried with sad and solemn enthusiasm, "I shall die, and
7235what I now feel be no longer felt.  Soon these burning miseries will be
7236extinct.  I shall ascend my funeral pile triumphantly and exult in the
7237agony of the torturing flames. The light of that conflagration will
7238fade away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds.  My spirit
7239will sleep in peace, or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus.
7240Farewell."
7241
7242He sprang from the cabin window as he said this, upon the ice raft
7243which lay close to the vessel.  He was soon borne away by the waves and
7244lost in darkness and distance.