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author: Luke T. Shumaker <lukeshu@umorpha.io> 2024-03-31 23:32:35 -0600
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus
+    
+This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
+at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
+you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
+before using this eBook.
+
+Title: Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus
+
+
+Author: Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
+
+Release date: October 1, 1993 [eBook #84]
+                Most recently updated: December 2, 2022
+
+Language: English
+
+Credits: Judith Boss, Christy Phillips, Lynn Hanninen and David Meltzer. HTML version by Al Haines.
+        Further corrections by Menno de Leeuw.
+
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRANKENSTEIN; OR, THE MODERN PROMETHEUS ***
+
+
+
+
+Frankenstein;
+
+or, the Modern Prometheus
+
+by Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley
+
+
+ CONTENTS
+
+ Letter 1
+ Letter 2
+ Letter 3
+ Letter 4
+ Chapter 1
+ Chapter 2
+ Chapter 3
+ Chapter 4
+ Chapter 5
+ Chapter 6
+ Chapter 7
+ Chapter 8
+ Chapter 9
+ Chapter 10
+ Chapter 11
+ Chapter 12
+ Chapter 13
+ Chapter 14
+ Chapter 15
+ Chapter 16
+ Chapter 17
+ Chapter 18
+ Chapter 19
+ Chapter 20
+ Chapter 21
+ Chapter 22
+ Chapter 23
+ Chapter 24
+
+
+
+
+Letter 1
+
+_To Mrs. Saville, England._
+
+
+St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17—.
+
+
+You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the
+commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil
+forebodings. I arrived here yesterday, and my first task is to assure
+my dear sister of my welfare and increasing confidence in the success
+of my undertaking.
+
+I am already far north of London, and as I walk in the streets of
+Petersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, which
+braces my nerves and fills me with delight. Do you understand this
+feeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions towards
+which I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes.
+Inspirited by this wind of promise, my daydreams become more fervent
+and vivid. I try in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seat of
+frost and desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as the
+region of beauty and delight. There, Margaret, the sun is for ever
+visible, its broad disk just skirting the horizon and diffusing a
+perpetual splendour. There—for with your leave, my sister, I will put
+some trust in preceding navigators—there snow and frost are banished;
+and, sailing over a calm sea, we may be wafted to a land surpassing in
+wonders and in beauty every region hitherto discovered on the habitable
+globe. Its productions and features may be without example, as the
+phenomena of the heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscovered
+solitudes. What may not be expected in a country of eternal light? I
+may there discover the wondrous power which attracts the needle and may
+regulate a thousand celestial observations that require only this
+voyage to render their seeming eccentricities consistent for ever. I
+shall satiate my ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world
+never before visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted by
+the foot of man. These are my enticements, and they are sufficient to
+conquer all fear of danger or death and to induce me to commence this
+laborious voyage with the joy a child feels when he embarks in a little
+boat, with his holiday mates, on an expedition of discovery up his
+native river. But supposing all these conjectures to be false, you
+cannot contest the inestimable benefit which I shall confer on all
+mankind, to the last generation, by discovering a passage near the pole
+to those countries, to reach which at present so many months are
+requisite; or by ascertaining the secret of the magnet, which, if at
+all possible, can only be effected by an undertaking such as mine.
+
+These reflections have dispelled the agitation with which I began my
+letter, and I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me
+to heaven, for nothing contributes so much to tranquillise the mind as
+a steady purpose—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual
+eye. This expedition has been the favourite dream of my early years. I
+have read with ardour the accounts of the various voyages which have
+been made in the prospect of arriving at the North Pacific Ocean
+through the seas which surround the pole. You may remember that a
+history of all the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed the
+whole of our good Uncle Thomas’ library. My education was neglected,
+yet I was passionately fond of reading. These volumes were my study
+day and night, and my familiarity with them increased that regret which
+I had felt, as a child, on learning that my father’s dying injunction
+had forbidden my uncle to allow me to embark in a seafaring life.
+
+These visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those poets
+whose effusions entranced my soul and lifted it to heaven. I also
+became a poet and for one year lived in a paradise of my own creation;
+I imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where the
+names of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated. You are well
+acquainted with my failure and how heavily I bore the disappointment.
+But just at that time I inherited the fortune of my cousin, and my
+thoughts were turned into the channel of their earlier bent.
+
+Six years have passed since I resolved on my present undertaking. I
+can, even now, remember the hour from which I dedicated myself to this
+great enterprise. I commenced by inuring my body to hardship. I
+accompanied the whale-fishers on several expeditions to the North Sea;
+I voluntarily endured cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep; I often
+worked harder than the common sailors during the day and devoted my
+nights to the study of mathematics, the theory of medicine, and those
+branches of physical science from which a naval adventurer might derive
+the greatest practical advantage. Twice I actually hired myself as an
+under-mate in a Greenland whaler, and acquitted myself to admiration. I
+must own I felt a little proud when my captain offered me the second
+dignity in the vessel and entreated me to remain with the greatest
+earnestness, so valuable did he consider my services.
+
+And now, dear Margaret, do I not deserve to accomplish some great purpose?
+My life might have been passed in ease and luxury, but I preferred glory to
+every enticement that wealth placed in my path. Oh, that some encouraging
+voice would answer in the affirmative! My courage and my resolution is
+firm; but my hopes fluctuate, and my spirits are often depressed. I am
+about to proceed on a long and difficult voyage, the emergencies of which
+will demand all my fortitude: I am required not only to raise the spirits
+of others, but sometimes to sustain my own, when theirs are failing.
+
+This is the most favourable period for travelling in Russia. They fly
+quickly over the snow in their sledges; the motion is pleasant, and, in
+my opinion, far more agreeable than that of an English stagecoach. The
+cold is not excessive, if you are wrapped in furs—a dress which I have
+already adopted, for there is a great difference between walking the
+deck and remaining seated motionless for hours, when no exercise
+prevents the blood from actually freezing in your veins. I have no
+ambition to lose my life on the post-road between St. Petersburgh and
+Archangel.
+
+I shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight or three weeks; and my
+intention is to hire a ship there, which can easily be done by paying the
+insurance for the owner, and to engage as many sailors as I think necessary
+among those who are accustomed to the whale-fishing. I do not intend to
+sail until the month of June; and when shall I return? Ah, dear sister, how
+can I answer this question? If I succeed, many, many months, perhaps years,
+will pass before you and I may meet. If I fail, you will see me again soon,
+or never.
+
+Farewell, my dear, excellent Margaret. Heaven shower down blessings on you,
+and save me, that I may again and again testify my gratitude for all your
+love and kindness.
+
+Your affectionate brother,
+
+R. Walton
+
+
+
+
+Letter 2
+
+_To Mrs. Saville, England._
+
+Archangel, 28th March, 17—.
+
+
+How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am by frost and snow!
+Yet a second step is taken towards my enterprise. I have hired a
+vessel and am occupied in collecting my sailors; those whom I have
+already engaged appear to be men on whom I can depend and are certainly
+possessed of dauntless courage.
+
+But I have one want which I have never yet been able to satisfy, and the
+absence of the object of which I now feel as a most severe evil, I have no
+friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of success, there
+will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by disappointment, no
+one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection. I shall commit my thoughts
+to paper, it is true; but that is a poor medium for the communication of
+feeling. I desire the company of a man who could sympathise with me, whose
+eyes would reply to mine. You may deem me romantic, my dear sister, but I
+bitterly feel the want of a friend. I have no one near me, gentle yet
+courageous, possessed of a cultivated as well as of a capacious mind, whose
+tastes are like my own, to approve or amend my plans. How would such a
+friend repair the faults of your poor brother! I am too ardent in execution
+and too impatient of difficulties. But it is a still greater evil to me
+that I am self-educated: for the first fourteen years of my life I ran wild
+on a common and read nothing but our Uncle Thomas’ books of voyages.
+At that age I became acquainted with the celebrated poets of our own
+country; but it was only when it had ceased to be in my power to derive its
+most important benefits from such a conviction that I perceived the
+necessity of becoming acquainted with more languages than that of my native
+country. Now I am twenty-eight and am in reality more illiterate than many
+schoolboys of fifteen. It is true that I have thought more and that my
+daydreams are more extended and magnificent, but they want (as the painters
+call it) _keeping;_ and I greatly need a friend who would have sense
+enough not to despise me as romantic, and affection enough for me to
+endeavour to regulate my mind.
+
+Well, these are useless complaints; I shall certainly find no friend on the
+wide ocean, nor even here in Archangel, among merchants and seamen. Yet
+some feelings, unallied to the dross of human nature, beat even in these
+rugged bosoms. My lieutenant, for instance, is a man of wonderful courage
+and enterprise; he is madly desirous of glory, or rather, to word my phrase
+more characteristically, of advancement in his profession. He is an
+Englishman, and in the midst of national and professional prejudices,
+unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of the noblest endowments of
+humanity. I first became acquainted with him on board a whale vessel;
+finding that he was unemployed in this city, I easily engaged him to assist
+in my enterprise.
+
+The master is a person of an excellent disposition and is remarkable in the
+ship for his gentleness and the mildness of his discipline. This
+circumstance, added to his well-known integrity and dauntless courage, made
+me very desirous to engage him. A youth passed in solitude, my best years
+spent under your gentle and feminine fosterage, has so refined the
+groundwork of my character that I cannot overcome an intense distaste to
+the usual brutality exercised on board ship: I have never believed it to be
+necessary, and when I heard of a mariner equally noted for his kindliness
+of heart and the respect and obedience paid to him by his crew, I felt
+myself peculiarly fortunate in being able to secure his services. I heard
+of him first in rather a romantic manner, from a lady who owes to him the
+happiness of her life. This, briefly, is his story. Some years ago he loved
+a young Russian lady of moderate fortune, and having amassed a considerable
+sum in prize-money, the father of the girl consented to the match. He saw
+his mistress once before the destined ceremony; but she was bathed in
+tears, and throwing herself at his feet, entreated him to spare her,
+confessing at the same time that she loved another, but that he was poor,
+and that her father would never consent to the union. My generous friend
+reassured the suppliant, and on being informed of the name of her lover,
+instantly abandoned his pursuit. He had already bought a farm with his
+money, on which he had designed to pass the remainder of his life; but he
+bestowed the whole on his rival, together with the remains of his
+prize-money to purchase stock, and then himself solicited the young
+woman’s father to consent to her marriage with her lover. But the old
+man decidedly refused, thinking himself bound in honour to my friend, who,
+when he found the father inexorable, quitted his country, nor returned
+until he heard that his former mistress was married according to her
+inclinations. “What a noble fellow!” you will exclaim. He is
+so; but then he is wholly uneducated: he is as silent as a Turk, and a kind
+of ignorant carelessness attends him, which, while it renders his conduct
+the more astonishing, detracts from the interest and sympathy which
+otherwise he would command.
+
+Yet do not suppose, because I complain a little or because I can
+conceive a consolation for my toils which I may never know, that I am
+wavering in my resolutions. Those are as fixed as fate, and my voyage
+is only now delayed until the weather shall permit my embarkation. The
+winter has been dreadfully severe, but the spring promises well, and it
+is considered as a remarkably early season, so that perhaps I may sail
+sooner than I expected. I shall do nothing rashly: you know me
+sufficiently to confide in my prudence and considerateness whenever the
+safety of others is committed to my care.
+
+I cannot describe to you my sensations on the near prospect of my
+undertaking. It is impossible to communicate to you a conception of
+the trembling sensation, half pleasurable and half fearful, with which
+I am preparing to depart. I am going to unexplored regions, to “the
+land of mist and snow,” but I shall kill no albatross; therefore do not
+be alarmed for my safety or if I should come back to you as worn and
+woeful as the “Ancient Mariner.” You will smile at my allusion, but I
+will disclose a secret. I have often attributed my attachment to, my
+passionate enthusiasm for, the dangerous mysteries of ocean to that
+production of the most imaginative of modern poets. There is something
+at work in my soul which I do not understand. I am practically
+industrious—painstaking, a workman to execute with perseverance and
+labour—but besides this there is a love for the marvellous, a belief
+in the marvellous, intertwined in all my projects, which hurries me out
+of the common pathways of men, even to the wild sea and unvisited
+regions I am about to explore.
+
+But to return to dearer considerations. Shall I meet you again, after
+having traversed immense seas, and returned by the most southern cape of
+Africa or America? I dare not expect such success, yet I cannot bear to
+look on the reverse of the picture. Continue for the present to write to
+me by every opportunity: I may receive your letters on some occasions when
+I need them most to support my spirits. I love you very tenderly. 
+Remember me with affection, should you never hear from me again.
+
+Your affectionate brother,
+ Robert Walton
+
+
+
+
+Letter 3
+
+_To Mrs. Saville, England._
+
+July 7th, 17—.
+
+
+My dear Sister,
+
+I write a few lines in haste to say that I am safe—and well advanced
+on my voyage. This letter will reach England by a merchantman now on
+its homeward voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not
+see my native land, perhaps, for many years. I am, however, in good
+spirits: my men are bold and apparently firm of purpose, nor do the
+floating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the dangers
+of the region towards which we are advancing, appear to dismay them. We
+have already reached a very high latitude; but it is the height of
+summer, and although not so warm as in England, the southern gales,
+which blow us speedily towards those shores which I so ardently desire
+to attain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth which I had not
+expected.
+
+No incidents have hitherto befallen us that would make a figure in a
+letter. One or two stiff gales and the springing of a leak are
+accidents which experienced navigators scarcely remember to record, and
+I shall be well content if nothing worse happen to us during our voyage.
+
+Adieu, my dear Margaret. Be assured that for my own sake, as well as
+yours, I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool,
+persevering, and prudent.
+
+But success _shall_ crown my endeavours. Wherefore not? Thus far I
+have gone, tracing a secure way over the pathless seas, the very stars
+themselves being witnesses and testimonies of my triumph. Why not
+still proceed over the untamed yet obedient element? What can stop the
+determined heart and resolved will of man?
+
+My swelling heart involuntarily pours itself out thus. But I must
+finish. Heaven bless my beloved sister!
+
+R.W.
+
+
+
+
+Letter 4
+
+
+_To Mrs. Saville, England._
+
+August 5th, 17—.
+
+So strange an accident has happened to us that I cannot forbear
+recording it, although it is very probable that you will see me before
+these papers can come into your possession.
+
+Last Monday (July 31st) we were nearly surrounded by ice, which closed
+in the ship on all sides, scarcely leaving her the sea-room in which
+she floated. Our situation was somewhat dangerous, especially as we
+were compassed round by a very thick fog. We accordingly lay to,
+hoping that some change would take place in the atmosphere and weather.
+
+About two o’clock the mist cleared away, and we beheld, stretched out
+in every direction, vast and irregular plains of ice, which seemed to
+have no end. Some of my comrades groaned, and my own mind began to
+grow watchful with anxious thoughts, when a strange sight suddenly
+attracted our attention and diverted our solicitude from our own
+situation. We perceived a low carriage, fixed on a sledge and drawn by
+dogs, pass on towards the north, at the distance of half a mile; a
+being which had the shape of a man, but apparently of gigantic stature,
+sat in the sledge and guided the dogs. We watched the rapid progress
+of the traveller with our telescopes until he was lost among the
+distant inequalities of the ice.
+
+This appearance excited our unqualified wonder. We were, as we believed,
+many hundred miles from any land; but this apparition seemed to denote that
+it was not, in reality, so distant as we had supposed. Shut in, however, by
+ice, it was impossible to follow his track, which we had observed with the
+greatest attention.
+
+About two hours after this occurrence we heard the ground sea, and before
+night the ice broke and freed our ship. We, however, lay to until the
+morning, fearing to encounter in the dark those large loose masses which
+float about after the breaking up of the ice. I profited of this time to
+rest for a few hours.
+
+In the morning, however, as soon as it was light, I went upon deck and
+found all the sailors busy on one side of the vessel, apparently
+talking to someone in the sea. It was, in fact, a sledge, like that we
+had seen before, which had drifted towards us in the night on a large
+fragment of ice. Only one dog remained alive; but there was a human
+being within it whom the sailors were persuading to enter the vessel.
+He was not, as the other traveller seemed to be, a savage inhabitant of
+some undiscovered island, but a European. When I appeared on deck the
+master said, “Here is our captain, and he will not allow you to perish
+on the open sea.”
+
+On perceiving me, the stranger addressed me in English, although with a
+foreign accent. “Before I come on board your vessel,” said he,
+“will you have the kindness to inform me whither you are bound?”
+
+You may conceive my astonishment on hearing such a question addressed
+to me from a man on the brink of destruction and to whom I should have
+supposed that my vessel would have been a resource which he would not
+have exchanged for the most precious wealth the earth can afford. I
+replied, however, that we were on a voyage of discovery towards the
+northern pole.
+
+Upon hearing this he appeared satisfied and consented to come on board.
+Good God! Margaret, if you had seen the man who thus capitulated for
+his safety, your surprise would have been boundless. His limbs were
+nearly frozen, and his body dreadfully emaciated by fatigue and
+suffering. I never saw a man in so wretched a condition. We attempted
+to carry him into the cabin, but as soon as he had quitted the fresh
+air he fainted. We accordingly brought him back to the deck and
+restored him to animation by rubbing him with brandy and forcing him to
+swallow a small quantity. As soon as he showed signs of life we
+wrapped him up in blankets and placed him near the chimney of the
+kitchen stove. By slow degrees he recovered and ate a little soup,
+which restored him wonderfully.
+
+Two days passed in this manner before he was able to speak, and I often
+feared that his sufferings had deprived him of understanding. When he
+had in some measure recovered, I removed him to my own cabin and
+attended on him as much as my duty would permit. I never saw a more
+interesting creature: his eyes have generally an expression of
+wildness, and even madness, but there are moments when, if anyone
+performs an act of kindness towards him or does him any the most
+trifling service, his whole countenance is lighted up, as it were, with
+a beam of benevolence and sweetness that I never saw equalled. But he
+is generally melancholy and despairing, and sometimes he gnashes his
+teeth, as if impatient of the weight of woes that oppresses him.
+
+When my guest was a little recovered I had great trouble to keep off
+the men, who wished to ask him a thousand questions; but I would not
+allow him to be tormented by their idle curiosity, in a state of body
+and mind whose restoration evidently depended upon entire repose.
+Once, however, the lieutenant asked why he had come so far upon the ice
+in so strange a vehicle.
+
+His countenance instantly assumed an aspect of the deepest gloom, and
+he replied, “To seek one who fled from me.”
+
+“And did the man whom you pursued travel in the same fashion?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then I fancy we have seen him, for the day before we picked you up we
+saw some dogs drawing a sledge, with a man in it, across the ice.”
+
+This aroused the stranger’s attention, and he asked a multitude of
+questions concerning the route which the dæmon, as he called him, had
+pursued. Soon after, when he was alone with me, he said, “I have,
+doubtless, excited your curiosity, as well as that of these good
+people; but you are too considerate to make inquiries.”
+
+“Certainly; it would indeed be very impertinent and inhuman in me to
+trouble you with any inquisitiveness of mine.”
+
+“And yet you rescued me from a strange and perilous situation; you have
+benevolently restored me to life.”
+
+Soon after this he inquired if I thought that the breaking up of the
+ice had destroyed the other sledge. I replied that I could not answer
+with any degree of certainty, for the ice had not broken until near
+midnight, and the traveller might have arrived at a place of safety
+before that time; but of this I could not judge.
+
+From this time a new spirit of life animated the decaying frame of the
+stranger. He manifested the greatest eagerness to be upon deck to watch for
+the sledge which had before appeared; but I have persuaded him to remain in
+the cabin, for he is far too weak to sustain the rawness of the atmosphere.
+I have promised that someone should watch for him and give him instant
+notice if any new object should appear in sight.
+
+Such is my journal of what relates to this strange occurrence up to the
+present day. The stranger has gradually improved in health but is very
+silent and appears uneasy when anyone except myself enters his cabin.
+Yet his manners are so conciliating and gentle that the sailors are all
+interested in him, although they have had very little communication
+with him. For my own part, I begin to love him as a brother, and his
+constant and deep grief fills me with sympathy and compassion. He must
+have been a noble creature in his better days, being even now in wreck
+so attractive and amiable.
+
+I said in one of my letters, my dear Margaret, that I should find no friend
+on the wide ocean; yet I have found a man who, before his spirit had been
+broken by misery, I should have been happy to have possessed as the brother
+of my heart.
+
+I shall continue my journal concerning the stranger at intervals,
+should I have any fresh incidents to record.
+
+
+
+
+August 13th, 17—.
+
+
+My affection for my guest increases every day. He excites at once my
+admiration and my pity to an astonishing degree. How can I see so
+noble a creature destroyed by misery without feeling the most poignant
+grief? He is so gentle, yet so wise; his mind is so cultivated, and
+when he speaks, although his words are culled with the choicest art,
+yet they flow with rapidity and unparalleled eloquence.
+
+He is now much recovered from his illness and is continually on the deck,
+apparently watching for the sledge that preceded his own. Yet, although
+unhappy, he is not so utterly occupied by his own misery but that he
+interests himself deeply in the projects of others. He has frequently
+conversed with me on mine, which I have communicated to him without
+disguise. He entered attentively into all my arguments in favour of my
+eventual success and into every minute detail of the measures I had taken
+to secure it. I was easily led by the sympathy which he evinced to use the
+language of my heart, to give utterance to the burning ardour of my soul
+and to say, with all the fervour that warmed me, how gladly I would
+sacrifice my fortune, my existence, my every hope, to the furtherance of my
+enterprise. One man’s life or death were but a small price to pay for
+the acquirement of the knowledge which I sought, for the dominion I should
+acquire and transmit over the elemental foes of our race. As I spoke, a
+dark gloom spread over my listener’s countenance. At first I
+perceived that he tried to suppress his emotion; he placed his hands before
+his eyes, and my voice quivered and failed me as I beheld tears trickle
+fast from between his fingers; a groan burst from his heaving breast. I
+paused; at length he spoke, in broken accents: “Unhappy man! Do you
+share my madness? Have you drunk also of the intoxicating draught? Hear me;
+let me reveal my tale, and you will dash the cup from your lips!”
+
+Such words, you may imagine, strongly excited my curiosity; but the
+paroxysm of grief that had seized the stranger overcame his weakened
+powers, and many hours of repose and tranquil conversation were
+necessary to restore his composure.
+
+Having conquered the violence of his feelings, he appeared to despise
+himself for being the slave of passion; and quelling the dark tyranny of
+despair, he led me again to converse concerning myself personally. He asked
+me the history of my earlier years. The tale was quickly told, but it
+awakened various trains of reflection. I spoke of my desire of finding a
+friend, of my thirst for a more intimate sympathy with a fellow mind than
+had ever fallen to my lot, and expressed my conviction that a man could
+boast of little happiness who did not enjoy this blessing.
+
+“I agree with you,” replied the stranger; “we are
+unfashioned creatures, but half made up, if one wiser, better, dearer than
+ourselves—such a friend ought to be—do not lend his aid to
+perfectionate our weak and faulty natures. I once had a friend, the most
+noble of human creatures, and am entitled, therefore, to judge respecting
+friendship. You have hope, and the world before you, and have no cause for
+despair. But I—I have lost everything and cannot begin life
+anew.”
+
+As he said this his countenance became expressive of a calm, settled
+grief that touched me to the heart. But he was silent and presently
+retired to his cabin.
+
+Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he
+does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight
+afforded by these wonderful regions seem still to have the power of
+elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he
+may suffer misery and be overwhelmed by disappointments, yet when he
+has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a
+halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.
+
+Will you smile at the enthusiasm I express concerning this divine
+wanderer? You would not if you saw him. You have been tutored and
+refined by books and retirement from the world, and you are therefore
+somewhat fastidious; but this only renders you the more fit to
+appreciate the extraordinary merits of this wonderful man. Sometimes I
+have endeavoured to discover what quality it is which he possesses that
+elevates him so immeasurably above any other person I ever knew. I
+believe it to be an intuitive discernment, a quick but never-failing
+power of judgment, a penetration into the causes of things, unequalled
+for clearness and precision; add to this a facility of expression and a
+voice whose varied intonations are soul-subduing music.
+
+
+
+
+August 19th, 17—.
+
+
+Yesterday the stranger said to me, “You may easily perceive, Captain
+Walton, that I have suffered great and unparalleled misfortunes. I had
+determined at one time that the memory of these evils should die with
+me, but you have won me to alter my determination. You seek for
+knowledge and wisdom, as I once did; and I ardently hope that the
+gratification of your wishes may not be a serpent to sting you, as mine
+has been. I do not know that the relation of my disasters will be
+useful to you; yet, when I reflect that you are pursuing the same
+course, exposing yourself to the same dangers which have rendered me
+what I am, I imagine that you may deduce an apt moral from my tale, one
+that may direct you if you succeed in your undertaking and console you
+in case of failure. Prepare to hear of occurrences which are usually
+deemed marvellous. Were we among the tamer scenes of nature I might
+fear to encounter your unbelief, perhaps your ridicule; but many things
+will appear possible in these wild and mysterious regions which would
+provoke the laughter of those unacquainted with the ever-varied powers
+of nature; nor can I doubt but that my tale conveys in its series
+internal evidence of the truth of the events of which it is composed.”
+
+You may easily imagine that I was much gratified by the offered
+communication, yet I could not endure that he should renew his grief by
+a recital of his misfortunes. I felt the greatest eagerness to hear
+the promised narrative, partly from curiosity and partly from a strong
+desire to ameliorate his fate if it were in my power. I expressed
+these feelings in my answer.
+
+“I thank you,” he replied, “for your sympathy, but it is
+useless; my fate is nearly fulfilled. I wait but for one event, and then I
+shall repose in peace. I understand your feeling,” continued he,
+perceiving that I wished to interrupt him; “but you are mistaken, my
+friend, if thus you will allow me to name you; nothing can alter my
+destiny; listen to my history, and you will perceive how irrevocably it is
+determined.”
+
+He then told me that he would commence his narrative the next day when I
+should be at leisure. This promise drew from me the warmest thanks. I have
+resolved every night, when I am not imperatively occupied by my duties, to
+record, as nearly as possible in his own words, what he has related during
+the day. If I should be engaged, I will at least make notes. This
+manuscript will doubtless afford you the greatest pleasure; but to me, who
+know him, and who hear it from his own lips—with what interest and
+sympathy shall I read it in some future day! Even now, as I commence my
+task, his full-toned voice swells in my ears; his lustrous eyes dwell on me
+with all their melancholy sweetness; I see his thin hand raised in
+animation, while the lineaments of his face are irradiated by the soul
+within. Strange and harrowing must be his story, frightful the storm which
+embraced the gallant vessel on its course and wrecked it—thus!
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 1
+
+
+I am by birth a Genevese, and my family is one of the most
+distinguished of that republic. My ancestors had been for many years
+counsellors and syndics, and my father had filled several public
+situations with honour and reputation. He was respected by all who
+knew him for his integrity and indefatigable attention to public
+business. He passed his younger days perpetually occupied by the
+affairs of his country; a variety of circumstances had prevented his
+marrying early, nor was it until the decline of life that he became a
+husband and the father of a family.
+
+As the circumstances of his marriage illustrate his character, I cannot
+refrain from relating them. One of his most intimate friends was a
+merchant who, from a flourishing state, fell, through numerous
+mischances, into poverty. This man, whose name was Beaufort, was of a
+proud and unbending disposition and could not bear to live in poverty
+and oblivion in the same country where he had formerly been
+distinguished for his rank and magnificence. Having paid his debts,
+therefore, in the most honourable manner, he retreated with his
+daughter to the town of Lucerne, where he lived unknown and in
+wretchedness. My father loved Beaufort with the truest friendship and
+was deeply grieved by his retreat in these unfortunate circumstances.
+He bitterly deplored the false pride which led his friend to a conduct
+so little worthy of the affection that united them. He lost no time in
+endeavouring to seek him out, with the hope of persuading him to begin
+the world again through his credit and assistance.
+
+Beaufort had taken effectual measures to conceal himself, and it was ten
+months before my father discovered his abode. Overjoyed at this discovery,
+he hastened to the house, which was situated in a mean street near the
+Reuss. But when he entered, misery and despair alone welcomed him. Beaufort
+had saved but a very small sum of money from the wreck of his fortunes, but
+it was sufficient to provide him with sustenance for some months, and in
+the meantime he hoped to procure some respectable employment in a
+merchant’s house. The interval was, consequently, spent in inaction;
+his grief only became more deep and rankling when he had leisure for
+reflection, and at length it took so fast hold of his mind that at the end
+of three months he lay on a bed of sickness, incapable of any exertion.
+
+His daughter attended him with the greatest tenderness, but she saw
+with despair that their little fund was rapidly decreasing and that
+there was no other prospect of support. But Caroline Beaufort
+possessed a mind of an uncommon mould, and her courage rose to support
+her in her adversity. She procured plain work; she plaited straw and
+by various means contrived to earn a pittance scarcely sufficient to
+support life.
+
+Several months passed in this manner. Her father grew worse; her time
+was more entirely occupied in attending him; her means of subsistence
+decreased; and in the tenth month her father died in her arms, leaving
+her an orphan and a beggar. This last blow overcame her, and she knelt
+by Beaufort’s coffin weeping bitterly, when my father entered the
+chamber. He came like a protecting spirit to the poor girl, who
+committed herself to his care; and after the interment of his friend he
+conducted her to Geneva and placed her under the protection of a
+relation. Two years after this event Caroline became his wife.
+
+There was a considerable difference between the ages of my parents, but
+this circumstance seemed to unite them only closer in bonds of devoted
+affection. There was a sense of justice in my father’s upright mind
+which rendered it necessary that he should approve highly to love
+strongly. Perhaps during former years he had suffered from the
+late-discovered unworthiness of one beloved and so was disposed to set
+a greater value on tried worth. There was a show of gratitude and
+worship in his attachment to my mother, differing wholly from the
+doting fondness of age, for it was inspired by reverence for her
+virtues and a desire to be the means of, in some degree, recompensing
+her for the sorrows she had endured, but which gave inexpressible grace
+to his behaviour to her. Everything was made to yield to her wishes
+and her convenience. He strove to shelter her, as a fair exotic is
+sheltered by the gardener, from every rougher wind and to surround her
+with all that could tend to excite pleasurable emotion in her soft and
+benevolent mind. Her health, and even the tranquillity of her hitherto
+constant spirit, had been shaken by what she had gone through. During
+the two years that had elapsed previous to their marriage my father had
+gradually relinquished all his public functions; and immediately after
+their union they sought the pleasant climate of Italy, and the change
+of scene and interest attendant on a tour through that land of wonders,
+as a restorative for her weakened frame.
+
+From Italy they visited Germany and France. I, their eldest child, was born
+at Naples, and as an infant accompanied them in their rambles. I remained
+for several years their only child. Much as they were attached to each
+other, they seemed to draw inexhaustible stores of affection from a very
+mine of love to bestow them upon me. My mother’s tender caresses and
+my father’s smile of benevolent pleasure while regarding me are my
+first recollections. I was their plaything and their idol, and something
+better—their child, the innocent and helpless creature bestowed on
+them by Heaven, whom to bring up to good, and whose future lot it was in
+their hands to direct to happiness or misery, according as they fulfilled
+their duties towards me. With this deep consciousness of what they owed
+towards the being to which they had given life, added to the active spirit
+of tenderness that animated both, it may be imagined that while during
+every hour of my infant life I received a lesson of patience, of charity,
+and of self-control, I was so guided by a silken cord that all seemed but
+one train of enjoyment to me.
+
+For a long time I was their only care. My mother had much desired to have a
+daughter, but I continued their single offspring. When I was about five
+years old, while making an excursion beyond the frontiers of Italy, they
+passed a week on the shores of the Lake of Como. Their benevolent
+disposition often made them enter the cottages of the poor. This, to my
+mother, was more than a duty; it was a necessity, a
+passion—remembering what she had suffered, and how she had been
+relieved—for her to act in her turn the guardian angel to the
+afflicted. During one of their walks a poor cot in the foldings of a vale
+attracted their notice as being singularly disconsolate, while the number
+of half-clothed children gathered about it spoke of penury in its worst
+shape. One day, when my father had gone by himself to Milan, my mother,
+accompanied by me, visited this abode. She found a peasant and his wife,
+hard working, bent down by care and labour, distributing a scanty meal to
+five hungry babes. Among these there was one which attracted my mother far
+above all the rest. She appeared of a different stock. The four others were
+dark-eyed, hardy little vagrants; this child was thin and very fair. Her
+hair was the brightest living gold, and despite the poverty of her
+clothing, seemed to set a crown of distinction on her head. Her brow was
+clear and ample, her blue eyes cloudless, and her lips and the moulding of
+her face so expressive of sensibility and sweetness that none could behold
+her without looking on her as of a distinct species, a being heaven-sent,
+and bearing a celestial stamp in all her features.
+
+The peasant woman, perceiving that my mother fixed eyes of wonder and
+admiration on this lovely girl, eagerly communicated her history. She was
+not her child, but the daughter of a Milanese nobleman. Her mother was a
+German and had died on giving her birth. The infant had been placed with
+these good people to nurse: they were better off then. They had not been
+long married, and their eldest child was but just born. The father of their
+charge was one of those Italians nursed in the memory of the antique glory
+of Italy—one among the _schiavi ognor frementi,_ who exerted
+himself to obtain the liberty of his country. He became the victim of its
+weakness. Whether he had died or still lingered in the dungeons of Austria
+was not known. His property was confiscated; his child became an orphan and
+a beggar. She continued with her foster parents and bloomed in their rude
+abode, fairer than a garden rose among dark-leaved brambles.
+
+When my father returned from Milan, he found playing with me in the hall of
+our villa a child fairer than pictured cherub—a creature who seemed
+to shed radiance from her looks and whose form and motions were lighter
+than the chamois of the hills. The apparition was soon explained. With his
+permission my mother prevailed on her rustic guardians to yield their
+charge to her. They were fond of the sweet orphan. Her presence had seemed
+a blessing to them, but it would be unfair to her to keep her in poverty
+and want when Providence afforded her such powerful protection. They
+consulted their village priest, and the result was that Elizabeth Lavenza
+became the inmate of my parents’ house—my more than
+sister—the beautiful and adored companion of all my occupations and
+my pleasures.
+
+Everyone loved Elizabeth. The passionate and almost reverential
+attachment with which all regarded her became, while I shared it, my
+pride and my delight. On the evening previous to her being brought to
+my home, my mother had said playfully, “I have a pretty present for my
+Victor—tomorrow he shall have it.” And when, on the morrow, she
+presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish
+seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth
+as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on
+her I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other
+familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body
+forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me—my more than
+sister, since till death she was to be mine only.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 2
+
+
+We were brought up together; there was not quite a year difference in
+our ages. I need not say that we were strangers to any species of
+disunion or dispute. Harmony was the soul of our companionship, and
+the diversity and contrast that subsisted in our characters drew us
+nearer together. Elizabeth was of a calmer and more concentrated
+disposition; but, with all my ardour, I was capable of a more intense
+application and was more deeply smitten with the thirst for knowledge.
+She busied herself with following the aerial creations of the poets;
+and in the majestic and wondrous scenes which surrounded our Swiss
+home —the sublime shapes of the mountains, the changes of the seasons,
+tempest and calm, the silence of winter, and the life and turbulence of
+our Alpine summers—she found ample scope for admiration and delight.
+While my companion contemplated with a serious and satisfied spirit the
+magnificent appearances of things, I delighted in investigating their
+causes. The world was to me a secret which I desired to divine.
+Curiosity, earnest research to learn the hidden laws of nature,
+gladness akin to rapture, as they were unfolded to me, are among the
+earliest sensations I can remember.
+
+On the birth of a second son, my junior by seven years, my parents gave
+up entirely their wandering life and fixed themselves in their native
+country. We possessed a house in Geneva, and a _campagne_ on Belrive,
+the eastern shore of the lake, at the distance of rather more than a
+league from the city. We resided principally in the latter, and the
+lives of my parents were passed in considerable seclusion. It was my
+temper to avoid a crowd and to attach myself fervently to a few. I was
+indifferent, therefore, to my school-fellows in general; but I united
+myself in the bonds of the closest friendship to one among them. Henry
+Clerval was the son of a merchant of Geneva. He was a boy of singular
+talent and fancy. He loved enterprise, hardship, and even danger for
+its own sake. He was deeply read in books of chivalry and romance. He
+composed heroic songs and began to write many a tale of enchantment and
+knightly adventure. He tried to make us act plays and to enter into
+masquerades, in which the characters were drawn from the heroes of
+Roncesvalles, of the Round Table of King Arthur, and the chivalrous
+train who shed their blood to redeem the holy sepulchre from the hands
+of the infidels.
+
+No human being could have passed a happier childhood than myself. My
+parents were possessed by the very spirit of kindness and indulgence.
+We felt that they were not the tyrants to rule our lot according to
+their caprice, but the agents and creators of all the many delights
+which we enjoyed. When I mingled with other families I distinctly
+discerned how peculiarly fortunate my lot was, and gratitude assisted
+the development of filial love.
+
+My temper was sometimes violent, and my passions vehement; but by some
+law in my temperature they were turned not towards childish pursuits
+but to an eager desire to learn, and not to learn all things
+indiscriminately. I confess that neither the structure of languages,
+nor the code of governments, nor the politics of various states
+possessed attractions for me. It was the secrets of heaven and earth
+that I desired to learn; and whether it was the outward substance of
+things or the inner spirit of nature and the mysterious soul of man
+that occupied me, still my inquiries were directed to the metaphysical,
+or in its highest sense, the physical secrets of the world.
+
+Meanwhile Clerval occupied himself, so to speak, with the moral
+relations of things. The busy stage of life, the virtues of heroes,
+and the actions of men were his theme; and his hope and his dream was
+to become one among those whose names are recorded in story as the
+gallant and adventurous benefactors of our species. The saintly soul
+of Elizabeth shone like a shrine-dedicated lamp in our peaceful home.
+Her sympathy was ours; her smile, her soft voice, the sweet glance of
+her celestial eyes, were ever there to bless and animate us. She was
+the living spirit of love to soften and attract; I might have become
+sullen in my study, rough through the ardour of my nature, but that
+she was there to subdue me to a semblance of her own gentleness. And
+Clerval—could aught ill entrench on the noble spirit of Clerval? Yet
+he might not have been so perfectly humane, so thoughtful in his
+generosity, so full of kindness and tenderness amidst his passion for
+adventurous exploit, had she not unfolded to him the real loveliness of
+beneficence and made the doing good the end and aim of his soaring
+ambition.
+
+I feel exquisite pleasure in dwelling on the recollections of childhood,
+before misfortune had tainted my mind and changed its bright visions of
+extensive usefulness into gloomy and narrow reflections upon self. Besides,
+in drawing the picture of my early days, I also record those events which
+led, by insensible steps, to my after tale of misery, for when I would
+account to myself for the birth of that passion which afterwards ruled my
+destiny I find it arise, like a mountain river, from ignoble and almost
+forgotten sources; but, swelling as it proceeded, it became the torrent
+which, in its course, has swept away all my hopes and joys.
+
+Natural philosophy is the genius that has regulated my fate; I desire,
+therefore, in this narration, to state those facts which led to my
+predilection for that science. When I was thirteen years of age we all went
+on a party of pleasure to the baths near Thonon; the inclemency of the
+weather obliged us to remain a day confined to the inn. In this house I
+chanced to find a volume of the works of Cornelius Agrippa. I opened it
+with apathy; the theory which he attempts to demonstrate and the wonderful
+facts which he relates soon changed this feeling into enthusiasm. A new
+light seemed to dawn upon my mind, and bounding with joy, I communicated my
+discovery to my father. My father looked carelessly at the title page of my
+book and said, “Ah! Cornelius Agrippa! My dear Victor, do not waste
+your time upon this; it is sad trash.”
+
+If, instead of this remark, my father had taken the pains to explain to me
+that the principles of Agrippa had been entirely exploded and that a modern
+system of science had been introduced which possessed much greater powers
+than the ancient, because the powers of the latter were chimerical, while
+those of the former were real and practical, under such circumstances I
+should certainly have thrown Agrippa aside and have contented my
+imagination, warmed as it was, by returning with greater ardour to my
+former studies. It is even possible that the train of my ideas would never
+have received the fatal impulse that led to my ruin. But the cursory glance
+my father had taken of my volume by no means assured me that he was
+acquainted with its contents, and I continued to read with the greatest
+avidity.
+
+When I returned home my first care was to procure the whole works of this
+author, and afterwards of Paracelsus and Albertus Magnus. I read and
+studied the wild fancies of these writers with delight; they appeared to me
+treasures known to few besides myself. I have described myself as always
+having been imbued with a fervent longing to penetrate the secrets of
+nature. In spite of the intense labour and wonderful discoveries of modern
+philosophers, I always came from my studies discontented and unsatisfied.
+Sir Isaac Newton is said to have avowed that he felt like a child picking
+up shells beside the great and unexplored ocean of truth. Those of his
+successors in each branch of natural philosophy with whom I was acquainted
+appeared even to my boy’s apprehensions as tyros engaged in the same
+pursuit.
+
+The untaught peasant beheld the elements around him and was acquainted
+with their practical uses. The most learned philosopher knew little
+more. He had partially unveiled the face of Nature, but her immortal
+lineaments were still a wonder and a mystery. He might dissect,
+anatomise, and give names; but, not to speak of a final cause, causes
+in their secondary and tertiary grades were utterly unknown to him. I
+had gazed upon the fortifications and impediments that seemed to keep
+human beings from entering the citadel of nature, and rashly and
+ignorantly I had repined.
+
+But here were books, and here were men who had penetrated deeper and knew
+more. I took their word for all that they averred, and I became their
+disciple. It may appear strange that such should arise in the eighteenth
+century; but while I followed the routine of education in the schools of
+Geneva, I was, to a great degree, self-taught with regard to my favourite
+studies. My father was not scientific, and I was left to struggle with a
+child’s blindness, added to a student’s thirst for knowledge.
+Under the guidance of my new preceptors I entered with the greatest
+diligence into the search of the philosopher’s stone and the elixir
+of life; but the latter soon obtained my undivided attention. Wealth was an
+inferior object, but what glory would attend the discovery if I could
+banish disease from the human frame and render man invulnerable to any but
+a violent death!
+
+Nor were these my only visions. The raising of ghosts or devils was a
+promise liberally accorded by my favourite authors, the fulfilment of which
+I most eagerly sought; and if my incantations were always unsuccessful, I
+attributed the failure rather to my own inexperience and mistake than to a
+want of skill or fidelity in my instructors. And thus for a time I was
+occupied by exploded systems, mingling, like an unadept, a thousand
+contradictory theories and floundering desperately in a very slough of
+multifarious knowledge, guided by an ardent imagination and childish
+reasoning, till an accident again changed the current of my ideas.
+
+When I was about fifteen years old we had retired to our house near
+Belrive, when we witnessed a most violent and terrible thunderstorm. It
+advanced from behind the mountains of Jura, and the thunder burst at once
+with frightful loudness from various quarters of the heavens. I remained,
+while the storm lasted, watching its progress with curiosity and delight.
+As I stood at the door, on a sudden I beheld a stream of fire issue from an
+old and beautiful oak which stood about twenty yards from our house; and so
+soon as the dazzling light vanished, the oak had disappeared, and nothing
+remained but a blasted stump. When we visited it the next morning, we found
+the tree shattered in a singular manner. It was not splintered by the
+shock, but entirely reduced to thin ribbons of wood. I never beheld
+anything so utterly destroyed.
+
+Before this I was not unacquainted with the more obvious laws of
+electricity. On this occasion a man of great research in natural
+philosophy was with us, and excited by this catastrophe, he entered on
+the explanation of a theory which he had formed on the subject of
+electricity and galvanism, which was at once new and astonishing to me.
+All that he said threw greatly into the shade Cornelius Agrippa,
+Albertus Magnus, and Paracelsus, the lords of my imagination; but by
+some fatality the overthrow of these men disinclined me to pursue my
+accustomed studies. It seemed to me as if nothing would or could ever
+be known. All that had so long engaged my attention suddenly grew
+despicable. By one of those caprices of the mind which we are perhaps
+most subject to in early youth, I at once gave up my former
+occupations, set down natural history and all its progeny as a deformed
+and abortive creation, and entertained the greatest disdain for a
+would-be science which could never even step within the threshold of
+real knowledge. In this mood of mind I betook myself to the
+mathematics and the branches of study appertaining to that science as
+being built upon secure foundations, and so worthy of my consideration.
+
+Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by such slight ligaments
+are we bound to prosperity or ruin. When I look back, it seems to me
+as if this almost miraculous change of inclination and will was the
+immediate suggestion of the guardian angel of my life—the last effort
+made by the spirit of preservation to avert the storm that was even
+then hanging in the stars and ready to envelop me. Her victory was
+announced by an unusual tranquillity and gladness of soul which
+followed the relinquishing of my ancient and latterly tormenting
+studies. It was thus that I was to be taught to associate evil with
+their prosecution, happiness with their disregard.
+
+It was a strong effort of the spirit of good, but it was ineffectual.
+Destiny was too potent, and her immutable laws had decreed my utter and
+terrible destruction.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 3
+
+
+When I had attained the age of seventeen my parents resolved that I
+should become a student at the university of Ingolstadt. I had
+hitherto attended the schools of Geneva, but my father thought it
+necessary for the completion of my education that I should be made
+acquainted with other customs than those of my native country. My
+departure was therefore fixed at an early date, but before the day
+resolved upon could arrive, the first misfortune of my life
+occurred—an omen, as it were, of my future misery.
+
+Elizabeth had caught the scarlet fever; her illness was severe, and she was
+in the greatest danger. During her illness many arguments had been urged to
+persuade my mother to refrain from attending upon her. She had at first
+yielded to our entreaties, but when she heard that the life of her
+favourite was menaced, she could no longer control her anxiety. She
+attended her sickbed; her watchful attentions triumphed over the malignity
+of the distemper—Elizabeth was saved, but the consequences of this
+imprudence were fatal to her preserver. On the third day my mother
+sickened; her fever was accompanied by the most alarming symptoms, and the
+looks of her medical attendants prognosticated the worst event. On her
+deathbed the fortitude and benignity of this best of women did not desert
+her. She joined the hands of Elizabeth and myself. “My
+children,” she said, “my firmest hopes of future happiness were
+placed on the prospect of your union. This expectation will now be the
+consolation of your father. Elizabeth, my love, you must supply my place to
+my younger children. Alas! I regret that I am taken from you; and, happy
+and beloved as I have been, is it not hard to quit you all? But these are
+not thoughts befitting me; I will endeavour to resign myself cheerfully to
+death and will indulge a hope of meeting you in another world.”
+
+She died calmly, and her countenance expressed affection even in death.
+I need not describe the feelings of those whose dearest ties are rent
+by that most irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to the
+soul, and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance. It is so
+long before the mind can persuade itself that she whom we saw every day
+and whose very existence appeared a part of our own can have departed
+for ever—that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been
+extinguished and the sound of a voice so familiar and dear to the ear
+can be hushed, never more to be heard. These are the reflections of
+the first days; but when the lapse of time proves the reality of the
+evil, then the actual bitterness of grief commences. Yet from whom has
+not that rude hand rent away some dear connection? And why should I
+describe a sorrow which all have felt, and must feel? The time at
+length arrives when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity; and
+the smile that plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed a
+sacrilege, is not banished. My mother was dead, but we had still
+duties which we ought to perform; we must continue our course with the
+rest and learn to think ourselves fortunate whilst one remains whom the
+spoiler has not seized.
+
+My departure for Ingolstadt, which had been deferred by these events,
+was now again determined upon. I obtained from my father a respite of
+some weeks. It appeared to me sacrilege so soon to leave the repose,
+akin to death, of the house of mourning and to rush into the thick of
+life. I was new to sorrow, but it did not the less alarm me. I was
+unwilling to quit the sight of those that remained to me, and above
+all, I desired to see my sweet Elizabeth in some degree consoled.
+
+She indeed veiled her grief and strove to act the comforter to us all.
+She looked steadily on life and assumed its duties with courage and
+zeal. She devoted herself to those whom she had been taught to call
+her uncle and cousins. Never was she so enchanting as at this time,
+when she recalled the sunshine of her smiles and spent them upon us.
+She forgot even her own regret in her endeavours to make us forget.
+
+The day of my departure at length arrived. Clerval spent the last
+evening with us. He had endeavoured to persuade his father to permit
+him to accompany me and to become my fellow student, but in vain. His
+father was a narrow-minded trader and saw idleness and ruin in the
+aspirations and ambition of his son. Henry deeply felt the misfortune
+of being debarred from a liberal education. He said little, but when
+he spoke I read in his kindling eye and in his animated glance a
+restrained but firm resolve not to be chained to the miserable details
+of commerce.
+
+We sat late. We could not tear ourselves away from each other nor
+persuade ourselves to say the word “Farewell!” It was said, and we
+retired under the pretence of seeking repose, each fancying that the
+other was deceived; but when at morning’s dawn I descended to the
+carriage which was to convey me away, they were all there—my father
+again to bless me, Clerval to press my hand once more, my Elizabeth to
+renew her entreaties that I would write often and to bestow the last
+feminine attentions on her playmate and friend.
+
+I threw myself into the chaise that was to convey me away and indulged in
+the most melancholy reflections. I, who had ever been surrounded by
+amiable companions, continually engaged in endeavouring to bestow mutual
+pleasure—I was now alone. In the university whither I was going I
+must form my own friends and be my own protector. My life had hitherto
+been remarkably secluded and domestic, and this had given me invincible
+repugnance to new countenances. I loved my brothers, Elizabeth, and
+Clerval; these were “old familiar faces,” but I believed myself
+totally unfitted for the company of strangers. Such were my reflections as
+I commenced my journey; but as I proceeded, my spirits and hopes rose. I
+ardently desired the acquisition of knowledge. I had often, when at home,
+thought it hard to remain during my youth cooped up in one place and had
+longed to enter the world and take my station among other human beings. 
+Now my desires were complied with, and it would, indeed, have been folly to
+repent.
+
+I had sufficient leisure for these and many other reflections during my
+journey to Ingolstadt, which was long and fatiguing. At length the
+high white steeple of the town met my eyes. I alighted and was
+conducted to my solitary apartment to spend the evening as I pleased.
+
+The next morning I delivered my letters of introduction and paid a visit to
+some of the principal professors. Chance—or rather the evil
+influence, the Angel of Destruction, which asserted omnipotent sway over me
+from the moment I turned my reluctant steps from my father’s
+door—led me first to M. Krempe, professor of natural philosophy. He
+was an uncouth man, but deeply imbued in the secrets of his science. He
+asked me several questions concerning my progress in the different branches
+of science appertaining to natural philosophy. I replied carelessly, and
+partly in contempt, mentioned the names of my alchemists as the principal
+authors I had studied. The professor stared. “Have you,” he
+said, “really spent your time in studying such nonsense?”
+
+I replied in the affirmative. “Every minute,” continued M. Krempe with
+warmth, “every instant that you have wasted on those books is utterly
+and entirely lost. You have burdened your memory with exploded systems
+and useless names. Good God! In what desert land have you lived,
+where no one was kind enough to inform you that these fancies which you
+have so greedily imbibed are a thousand years old and as musty as they
+are ancient? I little expected, in this enlightened and scientific
+age, to find a disciple of Albertus Magnus and Paracelsus. My dear
+sir, you must begin your studies entirely anew.”
+
+So saying, he stepped aside and wrote down a list of several books
+treating of natural philosophy which he desired me to procure, and
+dismissed me after mentioning that in the beginning of the following
+week he intended to commence a course of lectures upon natural
+philosophy in its general relations, and that M. Waldman, a fellow
+professor, would lecture upon chemistry the alternate days that he
+omitted.
+
+I returned home not disappointed, for I have said that I had long
+considered those authors useless whom the professor reprobated; but I
+returned not at all the more inclined to recur to these studies in any
+shape. M. Krempe was a little squat man with a gruff voice and a
+repulsive countenance; the teacher, therefore, did not prepossess me in
+favour of his pursuits. In rather a too philosophical and connected a
+strain, perhaps, I have given an account of the conclusions I had come
+to concerning them in my early years. As a child I had not been
+content with the results promised by the modern professors of natural
+science. With a confusion of ideas only to be accounted for by my
+extreme youth and my want of a guide on such matters, I had retrod the
+steps of knowledge along the paths of time and exchanged the
+discoveries of recent inquirers for the dreams of forgotten alchemists.
+Besides, I had a contempt for the uses of modern natural philosophy.
+It was very different when the masters of the science sought
+immortality and power; such views, although futile, were grand; but now
+the scene was changed. The ambition of the inquirer seemed to limit
+itself to the annihilation of those visions on which my interest in
+science was chiefly founded. I was required to exchange chimeras of
+boundless grandeur for realities of little worth.
+
+Such were my reflections during the first two or three days of my
+residence at Ingolstadt, which were chiefly spent in becoming
+acquainted with the localities and the principal residents in my new
+abode. But as the ensuing week commenced, I thought of the information
+which M. Krempe had given me concerning the lectures. And although I
+could not consent to go and hear that little conceited fellow deliver
+sentences out of a pulpit, I recollected what he had said of M.
+Waldman, whom I had never seen, as he had hitherto been out of town.
+
+Partly from curiosity and partly from idleness, I went into the lecturing
+room, which M. Waldman entered shortly after. This professor was very
+unlike his colleague. He appeared about fifty years of age, but with an
+aspect expressive of the greatest benevolence; a few grey hairs covered his
+temples, but those at the back of his head were nearly black. His person
+was short but remarkably erect and his voice the sweetest I had ever heard.
+He began his lecture by a recapitulation of the history of chemistry and
+the various improvements made by different men of learning, pronouncing
+with fervour the names of the most distinguished discoverers. He then took
+a cursory view of the present state of the science and explained many of
+its elementary terms. After having made a few preparatory experiments, he
+concluded with a panegyric upon modern chemistry, the terms of which I
+shall never forget:
+
+“The ancient teachers of this science,” said he,
+“promised impossibilities and performed nothing. The modern masters
+promise very little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted and that
+the elixir of life is a chimera but these philosophers, whose hands seem
+only made to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pore over the microscope or
+crucible, have indeed performed miracles. They penetrate into the recesses
+of nature and show how she works in her hiding-places. They ascend into the
+heavens; they have discovered how the blood circulates, and the nature of
+the air we breathe. They have acquired new and almost unlimited powers;
+they can command the thunders of heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even
+mock the invisible world with its own shadows.”
+
+Such were the professor’s words—rather let me say such the words of
+the fate—enounced to destroy me. As he went on I felt as if my soul
+were grappling with a palpable enemy; one by one the various keys were
+touched which formed the mechanism of my being; chord after chord was
+sounded, and soon my mind was filled with one thought, one conception,
+one purpose. So much has been done, exclaimed the soul of
+Frankenstein—more, far more, will I achieve; treading in the steps
+already marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and
+unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation.
+
+I closed not my eyes that night. My internal being was in a state of
+insurrection and turmoil; I felt that order would thence arise, but I
+had no power to produce it. By degrees, after the morning’s dawn,
+sleep came. I awoke, and my yesternight’s thoughts were as a dream.
+There only remained a resolution to return to my ancient studies and to
+devote myself to a science for which I believed myself to possess a
+natural talent. On the same day I paid M. Waldman a visit. His
+manners in private were even more mild and attractive than in public,
+for there was a certain dignity in his mien during his lecture which in
+his own house was replaced by the greatest affability and kindness. I
+gave him pretty nearly the same account of my former pursuits as I had
+given to his fellow professor. He heard with attention the little
+narration concerning my studies and smiled at the names of Cornelius
+Agrippa and Paracelsus, but without the contempt that M. Krempe had
+exhibited. He said that “These were men to whose indefatigable zeal
+modern philosophers were indebted for most of the foundations of their
+knowledge. They had left to us, as an easier task, to give new names
+and arrange in connected classifications the facts which they in a
+great degree had been the instruments of bringing to light. The
+labours of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever
+fail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind.” I
+listened to his statement, which was delivered without any presumption
+or affectation, and then added that his lecture had removed my
+prejudices against modern chemists; I expressed myself in measured
+terms, with the modesty and deference due from a youth to his
+instructor, without letting escape (inexperience in life would have
+made me ashamed) any of the enthusiasm which stimulated my intended
+labours. I requested his advice concerning the books I ought to
+procure.
+
+“I am happy,” said M. Waldman, “to have gained a
+disciple; and if your application equals your ability, I have no doubt of
+your success. Chemistry is that branch of natural philosophy in which the
+greatest improvements have been and may be made; it is on that account that
+I have made it my peculiar study; but at the same time, I have not
+neglected the other branches of science. A man would make but a very sorry
+chemist if he attended to that department of human knowledge alone. If your
+wish is to become really a man of science and not merely a petty
+experimentalist, I should advise you to apply to every branch of natural
+philosophy, including mathematics.”
+
+He then took me into his laboratory and explained to me the uses of his
+various machines, instructing me as to what I ought to procure and
+promising me the use of his own when I should have advanced far enough in
+the science not to derange their mechanism. He also gave me the list of
+books which I had requested, and I took my leave.
+
+Thus ended a day memorable to me; it decided my future destiny.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 4
+
+
+From this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, in the
+most comprehensive sense of the term, became nearly my sole occupation.
+I read with ardour those works, so full of genius and discrimination,
+which modern inquirers have written on these subjects. I attended the
+lectures and cultivated the acquaintance of the men of science of the
+university, and I found even in M. Krempe a great deal of sound sense
+and real information, combined, it is true, with a repulsive
+physiognomy and manners, but not on that account the less valuable. In
+M. Waldman I found a true friend. His gentleness was never tinged by
+dogmatism, and his instructions were given with an air of frankness and
+good nature that banished every idea of pedantry. In a thousand ways
+he smoothed for me the path of knowledge and made the most abstruse
+inquiries clear and facile to my apprehension. My application was at
+first fluctuating and uncertain; it gained strength as I proceeded and
+soon became so ardent and eager that the stars often disappeared in the
+light of morning whilst I was yet engaged in my laboratory.
+
+As I applied so closely, it may be easily conceived that my progress
+was rapid. My ardour was indeed the astonishment of the students, and
+my proficiency that of the masters. Professor Krempe often asked me,
+with a sly smile, how Cornelius Agrippa went on, whilst M. Waldman
+expressed the most heartfelt exultation in my progress. Two years
+passed in this manner, during which I paid no visit to Geneva, but was
+engaged, heart and soul, in the pursuit of some discoveries which I
+hoped to make. None but those who have experienced them can conceive
+of the enticements of science. In other studies you go as far as
+others have gone before you, and there is nothing more to know; but in
+a scientific pursuit there is continual food for discovery and wonder.
+A mind of moderate capacity which closely pursues one study must
+infallibly arrive at great proficiency in that study; and I, who
+continually sought the attainment of one object of pursuit and was
+solely wrapped up in this, improved so rapidly that at the end of two
+years I made some discoveries in the improvement of some chemical
+instruments, which procured me great esteem and admiration at the
+university. When I had arrived at this point and had become as well
+acquainted with the theory and practice of natural philosophy as
+depended on the lessons of any of the professors at Ingolstadt, my
+residence there being no longer conducive to my improvements, I thought
+of returning to my friends and my native town, when an incident
+happened that protracted my stay.
+
+One of the phenomena which had peculiarly attracted my attention was
+the structure of the human frame, and, indeed, any animal endued with
+life. Whence, I often asked myself, did the principle of life proceed?
+It was a bold question, and one which has ever been considered as a
+mystery; yet with how many things are we upon the brink of becoming
+acquainted, if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our
+inquiries. I revolved these circumstances in my mind and determined
+thenceforth to apply myself more particularly to those branches of
+natural philosophy which relate to physiology. Unless I had been
+animated by an almost supernatural enthusiasm, my application to this
+study would have been irksome and almost intolerable. To examine the
+causes of life, we must first have recourse to death. I became
+acquainted with the science of anatomy, but this was not sufficient; I
+must also observe the natural decay and corruption of the human body.
+In my education my father had taken the greatest precautions that my
+mind should be impressed with no supernatural horrors. I do not ever
+remember to have trembled at a tale of superstition or to have feared
+the apparition of a spirit. Darkness had no effect upon my fancy, and
+a churchyard was to me merely the receptacle of bodies deprived of
+life, which, from being the seat of beauty and strength, had become
+food for the worm. Now I was led to examine the cause and progress of
+this decay and forced to spend days and nights in vaults and
+charnel-houses. My attention was fixed upon every object the most
+insupportable to the delicacy of the human feelings. I saw how the
+fine form of man was degraded and wasted; I beheld the corruption of
+death succeed to the blooming cheek of life; I saw how the worm
+inherited the wonders of the eye and brain. I paused, examining and
+analysing all the minutiae of causation, as exemplified in the change
+from life to death, and death to life, until from the midst of this
+darkness a sudden light broke in upon me—a light so brilliant and
+wondrous, yet so simple, that while I became dizzy with the immensity
+of the prospect which it illustrated, I was surprised that among so
+many men of genius who had directed their inquiries towards the same
+science, that I alone should be reserved to discover so astonishing a
+secret.
+
+Remember, I am not recording the vision of a madman. The sun does not
+more certainly shine in the heavens than that which I now affirm is
+true. Some miracle might have produced it, yet the stages of the
+discovery were distinct and probable. After days and nights of
+incredible labour and fatigue, I succeeded in discovering the cause of
+generation and life; nay, more, I became myself capable of bestowing
+animation upon lifeless matter.
+
+The astonishment which I had at first experienced on this discovery
+soon gave place to delight and rapture. After so much time spent in
+painful labour, to arrive at once at the summit of my desires was the
+most gratifying consummation of my toils. But this discovery was so
+great and overwhelming that all the steps by which I had been
+progressively led to it were obliterated, and I beheld only the result.
+What had been the study and desire of the wisest men since the creation
+of the world was now within my grasp. Not that, like a magic scene, it
+all opened upon me at once: the information I had obtained was of a
+nature rather to direct my endeavours so soon as I should point them
+towards the object of my search than to exhibit that object already
+accomplished. I was like the Arabian who had been buried with the dead
+and found a passage to life, aided only by one glimmering and seemingly
+ineffectual light.
+
+I see by your eagerness and the wonder and hope which your eyes
+express, my friend, that you expect to be informed of the secret with
+which I am acquainted; that cannot be; listen patiently until the end
+of my story, and you will easily perceive why I am reserved upon that
+subject. I will not lead you on, unguarded and ardent as I then was,
+to your destruction and infallible misery. Learn from me, if not by my
+precepts, at least by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement of
+knowledge and how much happier that man is who believes his native town
+to be the world, than he who aspires to become greater than his nature
+will allow.
+
+When I found so astonishing a power placed within my hands, I hesitated
+a long time concerning the manner in which I should employ it.
+Although I possessed the capacity of bestowing animation, yet to
+prepare a frame for the reception of it, with all its intricacies of
+fibres, muscles, and veins, still remained a work of inconceivable
+difficulty and labour. I doubted at first whether I should attempt the
+creation of a being like myself, or one of simpler organization; but my
+imagination was too much exalted by my first success to permit me to
+doubt of my ability to give life to an animal as complex and wonderful
+as man. The materials at present within my command hardly appeared
+adequate to so arduous an undertaking, but I doubted not that I should
+ultimately succeed. I prepared myself for a multitude of reverses; my
+operations might be incessantly baffled, and at last my work be
+imperfect, yet when I considered the improvement which every day takes
+place in science and mechanics, I was encouraged to hope my present
+attempts would at least lay the foundations of future success. Nor
+could I consider the magnitude and complexity of my plan as any
+argument of its impracticability. It was with these feelings that I
+began the creation of a human being. As the minuteness of the parts
+formed a great hindrance to my speed, I resolved, contrary to my first
+intention, to make the being of a gigantic stature, that is to say,
+about eight feet in height, and proportionably large. After having
+formed this determination and having spent some months in successfully
+collecting and arranging my materials, I began.
+
+No one can conceive the variety of feelings which bore me onwards, like
+a hurricane, in the first enthusiasm of success. Life and death
+appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and
+pour a torrent of light into our dark world. A new species would bless
+me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would
+owe their being to me. No father could claim the gratitude of his
+child so completely as I should deserve theirs. Pursuing these
+reflections, I thought that if I could bestow animation upon lifeless
+matter, I might in process of time (although I now found it impossible)
+renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to corruption.
+
+These thoughts supported my spirits, while I pursued my undertaking
+with unremitting ardour. My cheek had grown pale with study, and my
+person had become emaciated with confinement. Sometimes, on the very
+brink of certainty, I failed; yet still I clung to the hope which the
+next day or the next hour might realise. One secret which I alone
+possessed was the hope to which I had dedicated myself; and the moon
+gazed on my midnight labours, while, with unrelaxed and breathless
+eagerness, I pursued nature to her hiding-places. Who shall conceive
+the horrors of my secret toil as I dabbled among the unhallowed damps
+of the grave or tortured the living animal to animate the lifeless
+clay? My limbs now tremble, and my eyes swim with the remembrance; but
+then a resistless and almost frantic impulse urged me forward; I seemed
+to have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit. It was
+indeed but a passing trance, that only made me feel with renewed
+acuteness so soon as, the unnatural stimulus ceasing to operate, I had
+returned to my old habits. I collected bones from charnel-houses and
+disturbed, with profane fingers, the tremendous secrets of the human
+frame. In a solitary chamber, or rather cell, at the top of the house,
+and separated from all the other apartments by a gallery and staircase,
+I kept my workshop of filthy creation; my eyeballs were starting from
+their sockets in attending to the details of my employment. The
+dissecting room and the slaughter-house furnished many of my materials;
+and often did my human nature turn with loathing from my occupation,
+whilst, still urged on by an eagerness which perpetually increased, I
+brought my work near to a conclusion.
+
+The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in
+one pursuit. It was a most beautiful season; never did the fields
+bestow a more plentiful harvest or the vines yield a more luxuriant
+vintage, but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature. And the
+same feelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me also
+to forget those friends who were so many miles absent, and whom I had
+not seen for so long a time. I knew my silence disquieted them, and I
+well remembered the words of my father: “I know that while you are
+pleased with yourself you will think of us with affection, and we shall
+hear regularly from you. You must pardon me if I regard any
+interruption in your correspondence as a proof that your other duties
+are equally neglected.”
+
+I knew well therefore what would be my father’s feelings, but I could
+not tear my thoughts from my employment, loathsome in itself, but which
+had taken an irresistible hold of my imagination. I wished, as it
+were, to procrastinate all that related to my feelings of affection
+until the great object, which swallowed up every habit of my nature,
+should be completed.
+
+I then thought that my father would be unjust if he ascribed my neglect
+to vice or faultiness on my part, but I am now convinced that he was
+justified in conceiving that I should not be altogether free from
+blame. A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and
+peaceful mind and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to
+disturb his tranquillity. I do not think that the pursuit of knowledge
+is an exception to this rule. If the study to which you apply yourself
+has a tendency to weaken your affections and to destroy your taste for
+those simple pleasures in which no alloy can possibly mix, then that
+study is certainly unlawful, that is to say, not befitting the human
+mind. If this rule were always observed; if no man allowed any pursuit
+whatsoever to interfere with the tranquillity of his domestic
+affections, Greece had not been enslaved, Cæsar would have spared his
+country, America would have been discovered more gradually, and the
+empires of Mexico and Peru had not been destroyed.
+
+But I forget that I am moralizing in the most interesting part of my
+tale, and your looks remind me to proceed.
+
+My father made no reproach in his letters and only took notice of my
+silence by inquiring into my occupations more particularly than before.
+Winter, spring, and summer passed away during my labours; but I did not
+watch the blossom or the expanding leaves—sights which before always
+yielded me supreme delight—so deeply was I engrossed in my
+occupation. The leaves of that year had withered before my work drew near
+to a close, and now every day showed me more plainly how well I had
+succeeded. But my enthusiasm was checked by my anxiety, and I appeared
+rather like one doomed by slavery to toil in the mines, or any other
+unwholesome trade than an artist occupied by his favourite employment.
+Every night I was oppressed by a slow fever, and I became nervous to a most
+painful degree; the fall of a leaf startled me, and I shunned my fellow
+creatures as if I had been guilty of a crime. Sometimes I grew alarmed at
+the wreck I perceived that I had become; the energy of my purpose alone
+sustained me: my labours would soon end, and I believed that exercise and
+amusement would then drive away incipient disease; and I promised myself
+both of these when my creation should be complete.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 5
+
+
+It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment
+of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I
+collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a
+spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was
+already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the
+panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the
+half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature
+open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.
+
+How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate
+the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to
+form? His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as
+beautiful. Beautiful! Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered
+the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous
+black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these
+luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes,
+that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which
+they were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips.
+
+The different accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelings
+of human nature. I had worked hard for nearly two years, for the sole
+purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body. For this I had
+deprived myself of rest and health. I had desired it with an ardour
+that far exceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beauty
+of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my
+heart. Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I
+rushed out of the room and continued a long time traversing my
+bed-chamber, unable to compose my mind to sleep. At length lassitude
+succeeded to the tumult I had before endured, and I threw myself on the
+bed in my clothes, endeavouring to seek a few moments of forgetfulness.
+But it was in vain; I slept, indeed, but I was disturbed by the wildest
+dreams. I thought I saw Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking in
+the streets of Ingolstadt. Delighted and surprised, I embraced her,
+but as I imprinted the first kiss on her lips, they became livid with
+the hue of death; her features appeared to change, and I thought that I
+held the corpse of my dead mother in my arms; a shroud enveloped her
+form, and I saw the grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel.
+I started from my sleep with horror; a cold dew covered my forehead, my
+teeth chattered, and every limb became convulsed; when, by the dim and
+yellow light of the moon, as it forced its way through the window
+shutters, I beheld the wretch—the miserable monster whom I had
+created. He held up the curtain of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes they
+may be called, were fixed on me. His jaws opened, and he muttered some
+inarticulate sounds, while a grin wrinkled his cheeks. He might have
+spoken, but I did not hear; one hand was stretched out, seemingly to
+detain me, but I escaped and rushed downstairs. I took refuge in the
+courtyard belonging to the house which I inhabited, where I remained
+during the rest of the night, walking up and down in the greatest
+agitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound as if
+it were to announce the approach of the demoniacal corpse to which I
+had so miserably given life.
+
+Oh! No mortal could support the horror of that countenance. A mummy
+again endued with animation could not be so hideous as that wretch. I
+had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then, but when those
+muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing
+such as even Dante could not have conceived.
+
+I passed the night wretchedly. Sometimes my pulse beat so quickly and
+hardly that I felt the palpitation of every artery; at others, I nearly
+sank to the ground through languor and extreme weakness. Mingled with
+this horror, I felt the bitterness of disappointment; dreams that had
+been my food and pleasant rest for so long a space were now become a
+hell to me; and the change was so rapid, the overthrow so complete!
+
+Morning, dismal and wet, at length dawned and discovered to my
+sleepless and aching eyes the church of Ingolstadt, its white steeple
+and clock, which indicated the sixth hour. The porter opened the gates
+of the court, which had that night been my asylum, and I issued into
+the streets, pacing them with quick steps, as if I sought to avoid the
+wretch whom I feared every turning of the street would present to my
+view. I did not dare return to the apartment which I inhabited, but
+felt impelled to hurry on, although drenched by the rain which poured
+from a black and comfortless sky.
+
+I continued walking in this manner for some time, endeavouring by
+bodily exercise to ease the load that weighed upon my mind. I
+traversed the streets without any clear conception of where I was or
+what I was doing. My heart palpitated in the sickness of fear, and I
+hurried on with irregular steps, not daring to look about me:
+ 
+ Like one who, on a lonely road,
+ Doth walk in fear and dread,
+ And, having once turned round, walks on,
+ And turns no more his head;
+ Because he knows a frightful fiend
+ Doth close behind him tread.
+ 
+ [Coleridge’s “Ancient Mariner.”]
+
+
+
+Continuing thus, I came at length opposite to the inn at which the various
+diligences and carriages usually stopped. Here I paused, I knew not why;
+but I remained some minutes with my eyes fixed on a coach that was coming
+towards me from the other end of the street. As it drew nearer I observed
+that it was the Swiss diligence; it stopped just where I was standing, and
+on the door being opened, I perceived Henry Clerval, who, on seeing me,
+instantly sprung out. “My dear Frankenstein,” exclaimed he,
+“how glad I am to see you! How fortunate that you should be here at
+the very moment of my alighting!”
+
+Nothing could equal my delight on seeing Clerval; his presence brought back
+to my thoughts my father, Elizabeth, and all those scenes of home so dear
+to my recollection. I grasped his hand, and in a moment forgot my horror
+and misfortune; I felt suddenly, and for the first time during many months,
+calm and serene joy. I welcomed my friend, therefore, in the most cordial
+manner, and we walked towards my college. Clerval continued talking for
+some time about our mutual friends and his own good fortune in being
+permitted to come to Ingolstadt. “You may easily believe,” said
+he, “how great was the difficulty to persuade my father that all
+necessary knowledge was not comprised in the noble art of book-keeping;
+and, indeed, I believe I left him incredulous to the last, for his constant
+answer to my unwearied entreaties was the same as that of the Dutch
+schoolmaster in The Vicar of Wakefield: ‘I have ten thousand florins
+a year without Greek, I eat heartily without Greek.’ But his
+affection for me at length overcame his dislike of learning, and he has
+permitted me to undertake a voyage of discovery to the land of
+knowledge.”
+
+“It gives me the greatest delight to see you; but tell me how you left
+my father, brothers, and Elizabeth.”
+
+“Very well, and very happy, only a little uneasy that they hear from
+you so seldom. By the by, I mean to lecture you a little upon their
+account myself. But, my dear Frankenstein,” continued he, stopping
+short and gazing full in my face, “I did not before remark how very ill
+you appear; so thin and pale; you look as if you had been watching for
+several nights.”
+
+“You have guessed right; I have lately been so deeply engaged in one
+occupation that I have not allowed myself sufficient rest, as you see;
+but I hope, I sincerely hope, that all these employments are now at an
+end and that I am at length free.”
+
+I trembled excessively; I could not endure to think of, and far less to
+allude to, the occurrences of the preceding night. I walked with a
+quick pace, and we soon arrived at my college. I then reflected, and
+the thought made me shiver, that the creature whom I had left in my
+apartment might still be there, alive and walking about. I dreaded to
+behold this monster, but I feared still more that Henry should see him.
+Entreating him, therefore, to remain a few minutes at the bottom of the
+stairs, I darted up towards my own room. My hand was already on the
+lock of the door before I recollected myself. I then paused, and a
+cold shivering came over me. I threw the door forcibly open, as
+children are accustomed to do when they expect a spectre to stand in
+waiting for them on the other side; but nothing appeared. I stepped
+fearfully in: the apartment was empty, and my bedroom was also freed
+from its hideous guest. I could hardly believe that so great a good
+fortune could have befallen me, but when I became assured that my enemy
+had indeed fled, I clapped my hands for joy and ran down to Clerval.
+
+We ascended into my room, and the servant presently brought breakfast;
+but I was unable to contain myself. It was not joy only that possessed
+me; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulse
+beat rapidly. I was unable to remain for a single instant in the same
+place; I jumped over the chairs, clapped my hands, and laughed aloud.
+Clerval at first attributed my unusual spirits to joy on his arrival,
+but when he observed me more attentively, he saw a wildness in my eyes
+for which he could not account, and my loud, unrestrained, heartless
+laughter frightened and astonished him.
+
+“My dear Victor,” cried he, “what, for God’s sake,
+is the matter? Do not laugh in that manner. How ill you are! What is the
+cause of all this?”
+
+“Do not ask me,” cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for I
+thought I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; “_he_ can
+tell. Oh, save me! Save me!” I imagined that the monster seized me;
+I struggled furiously and fell down in a fit.
+
+Poor Clerval! What must have been his feelings? A meeting, which he
+anticipated with such joy, so strangely turned to bitterness. But I
+was not the witness of his grief, for I was lifeless and did not
+recover my senses for a long, long time.
+
+This was the commencement of a nervous fever which confined me for
+several months. During all that time Henry was my only nurse. I
+afterwards learned that, knowing my father’s advanced age and unfitness
+for so long a journey, and how wretched my sickness would make
+Elizabeth, he spared them this grief by concealing the extent of my
+disorder. He knew that I could not have a more kind and attentive
+nurse than himself; and, firm in the hope he felt of my recovery, he
+did not doubt that, instead of doing harm, he performed the kindest
+action that he could towards them.
+
+But I was in reality very ill, and surely nothing but the unbounded and
+unremitting attentions of my friend could have restored me to life.
+The form of the monster on whom I had bestowed existence was for ever
+before my eyes, and I raved incessantly concerning him. Doubtless my
+words surprised Henry; he at first believed them to be the wanderings
+of my disturbed imagination, but the pertinacity with which I
+continually recurred to the same subject persuaded him that my disorder
+indeed owed its origin to some uncommon and terrible event.
+
+By very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses that alarmed and
+grieved my friend, I recovered. I remember the first time I became
+capable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure, I
+perceived that the fallen leaves had disappeared and that the young
+buds were shooting forth from the trees that shaded my window. It was
+a divine spring, and the season contributed greatly to my
+convalescence. I felt also sentiments of joy and affection revive in
+my bosom; my gloom disappeared, and in a short time I became as
+cheerful as before I was attacked by the fatal passion.
+
+“Dearest Clerval,” exclaimed I, “how kind, how very good
+you are to me. This whole winter, instead of being spent in study, as you
+promised yourself, has been consumed in my sick room. How shall I ever
+repay you? I feel the greatest remorse for the disappointment of which I
+have been the occasion, but you will forgive me.”
+
+“You will repay me entirely if you do not discompose yourself, but get
+well as fast as you can; and since you appear in such good spirits, I
+may speak to you on one subject, may I not?”
+
+I trembled. One subject! What could it be? Could he allude to an object on
+whom I dared not even think?
+
+“Compose yourself,” said Clerval, who observed my change of
+colour, “I will not mention it if it agitates you; but your father
+and cousin would be very happy if they received a letter from you in your
+own handwriting. They hardly know how ill you have been and are uneasy at
+your long silence.”
+
+“Is that all, my dear Henry? How could you suppose that my first
+thought would not fly towards those dear, dear friends whom I love and
+who are so deserving of my love?”
+
+“If this is your present temper, my friend, you will perhaps be glad
+to see a letter that has been lying here some days for you; it is from
+your cousin, I believe.”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 6
+
+
+Clerval then put the following letter into my hands. It was from my
+own Elizabeth:
+
+“My dearest Cousin,
+
+“You have been ill, very ill, and even the constant letters of dear
+kind Henry are not sufficient to reassure me on your account. You are
+forbidden to write—to hold a pen; yet one word from you, dear Victor,
+is necessary to calm our apprehensions. For a long time I have thought
+that each post would bring this line, and my persuasions have
+restrained my uncle from undertaking a journey to Ingolstadt. I have
+prevented his encountering the inconveniences and perhaps dangers of so
+long a journey, yet how often have I regretted not being able to
+perform it myself! I figure to myself that the task of attending on
+your sickbed has devolved on some mercenary old nurse, who could never
+guess your wishes nor minister to them with the care and affection of
+your poor cousin. Yet that is over now: Clerval writes that indeed
+you are getting better. I eagerly hope that you will confirm this
+intelligence soon in your own handwriting.
+
+“Get well—and return to us. You will find a happy, cheerful home and
+friends who love you dearly. Your father’s health is vigorous, and he
+asks but to see you, but to be assured that you are well; and not a
+care will ever cloud his benevolent countenance. How pleased you would
+be to remark the improvement of our Ernest! He is now sixteen and full
+of activity and spirit. He is desirous to be a true Swiss and to enter
+into foreign service, but we cannot part with him, at least until his
+elder brother returns to us. My uncle is not pleased with the idea of
+a military career in a distant country, but Ernest never had your
+powers of application. He looks upon study as an odious fetter; his
+time is spent in the open air, climbing the hills or rowing on the
+lake. I fear that he will become an idler unless we yield the point
+and permit him to enter on the profession which he has selected.
+
+“Little alteration, except the growth of our dear children, has taken
+place since you left us. The blue lake and snow-clad mountains—they
+never change; and I think our placid home and our contented hearts are
+regulated by the same immutable laws. My trifling occupations take up
+my time and amuse me, and I am rewarded for any exertions by seeing
+none but happy, kind faces around me. Since you left us, but one
+change has taken place in our little household. Do you remember on
+what occasion Justine Moritz entered our family? Probably you do not;
+I will relate her history, therefore in a few words. Madame Moritz,
+her mother, was a widow with four children, of whom Justine was the
+third. This girl had always been the favourite of her father, but
+through a strange perversity, her mother could not endure her, and
+after the death of M. Moritz, treated her very ill. My aunt observed
+this, and when Justine was twelve years of age, prevailed on her mother
+to allow her to live at our house. The republican institutions of our
+country have produced simpler and happier manners than those which
+prevail in the great monarchies that surround it. Hence there is less
+distinction between the several classes of its inhabitants; and the
+lower orders, being neither so poor nor so despised, their manners are
+more refined and moral. A servant in Geneva does not mean the same
+thing as a servant in France and England. Justine, thus received in
+our family, learned the duties of a servant, a condition which, in our
+fortunate country, does not include the idea of ignorance and a
+sacrifice of the dignity of a human being.
+
+“Justine, you may remember, was a great favourite of yours; and I
+recollect you once remarked that if you were in an ill humour, one
+glance from Justine could dissipate it, for the same reason that
+Ariosto gives concerning the beauty of Angelica—she looked so
+frank-hearted and happy. My aunt conceived a great attachment for her,
+by which she was induced to give her an education superior to that
+which she had at first intended. This benefit was fully repaid;
+Justine was the most grateful little creature in the world: I do not
+mean that she made any professions I never heard one pass her lips, but
+you could see by her eyes that she almost adored her protectress.
+Although her disposition was gay and in many respects inconsiderate,
+yet she paid the greatest attention to every gesture of my aunt. She
+thought her the model of all excellence and endeavoured to imitate her
+phraseology and manners, so that even now she often reminds me of her.
+
+“When my dearest aunt died every one was too much occupied in their own
+grief to notice poor Justine, who had attended her during her illness
+with the most anxious affection. Poor Justine was very ill; but other
+trials were reserved for her.
+
+“One by one, her brothers and sister died; and her mother, with the
+exception of her neglected daughter, was left childless. The
+conscience of the woman was troubled; she began to think that the
+deaths of her favourites was a judgement from heaven to chastise her
+partiality. She was a Roman Catholic; and I believe her confessor
+confirmed the idea which she had conceived. Accordingly, a few months
+after your departure for Ingolstadt, Justine was called home by her
+repentant mother. Poor girl! She wept when she quitted our house; she
+was much altered since the death of my aunt; grief had given softness
+and a winning mildness to her manners, which had before been remarkable
+for vivacity. Nor was her residence at her mother’s house of a nature
+to restore her gaiety. The poor woman was very vacillating in her
+repentance. She sometimes begged Justine to forgive her unkindness,
+but much oftener accused her of having caused the deaths of her
+brothers and sister. Perpetual fretting at length threw Madame Moritz
+into a decline, which at first increased her irritability, but she is
+now at peace for ever. She died on the first approach of cold weather,
+at the beginning of this last winter. Justine has just returned to us;
+and I assure you I love her tenderly. She is very clever and gentle,
+and extremely pretty; as I mentioned before, her mien and her
+expression continually remind me of my dear aunt.
+
+“I must say also a few words to you, my dear cousin, of little darling
+William. I wish you could see him; he is very tall of his age, with
+sweet laughing blue eyes, dark eyelashes, and curling hair. When he
+smiles, two little dimples appear on each cheek, which are rosy with
+health. He has already had one or two little _wives,_ but Louisa Biron
+is his favourite, a pretty little girl of five years of age.
+
+“Now, dear Victor, I dare say you wish to be indulged in a little
+gossip concerning the good people of Geneva. The pretty Miss Mansfield
+has already received the congratulatory visits on her approaching
+marriage with a young Englishman, John Melbourne, Esq. Her ugly
+sister, Manon, married M. Duvillard, the rich banker, last autumn. Your
+favourite schoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunes
+since the departure of Clerval from Geneva. But he has already
+recovered his spirits, and is reported to be on the point of marrying a
+lively pretty Frenchwoman, Madame Tavernier. She is a widow, and much
+older than Manoir; but she is very much admired, and a favourite with
+everybody.
+
+“I have written myself into better spirits, dear cousin; but my anxiety
+returns upon me as I conclude. Write, dearest Victor,—one line—one
+word will be a blessing to us. Ten thousand thanks to Henry for his
+kindness, his affection, and his many letters; we are sincerely
+grateful. Adieu! my cousin; take care of yourself; and, I entreat
+you, write!
+
+“Elizabeth Lavenza.
+
+
+“Geneva, March 18th, 17—.”
+
+
+
+“Dear, dear Elizabeth!” I exclaimed, when I had read her
+letter: “I will write instantly and relieve them from the anxiety
+they must feel.” I wrote, and this exertion greatly fatigued me; but
+my convalescence had commenced, and proceeded regularly. In another
+fortnight I was able to leave my chamber.
+
+One of my first duties on my recovery was to introduce Clerval to the
+several professors of the university. In doing this, I underwent a
+kind of rough usage, ill befitting the wounds that my mind had
+sustained. Ever since the fatal night, the end of my labours, and the
+beginning of my misfortunes, I had conceived a violent antipathy even
+to the name of natural philosophy. When I was otherwise quite restored
+to health, the sight of a chemical instrument would renew all the agony
+of my nervous symptoms. Henry saw this, and had removed all my
+apparatus from my view. He had also changed my apartment; for he
+perceived that I had acquired a dislike for the room which had
+previously been my laboratory. But these cares of Clerval were made of
+no avail when I visited the professors. M. Waldman inflicted torture
+when he praised, with kindness and warmth, the astonishing progress I
+had made in the sciences. He soon perceived that I disliked the
+subject; but not guessing the real cause, he attributed my feelings to
+modesty, and changed the subject from my improvement, to the science
+itself, with a desire, as I evidently saw, of drawing me out. What
+could I do? He meant to please, and he tormented me. I felt as if he
+had placed carefully, one by one, in my view those instruments which
+were to be afterwards used in putting me to a slow and cruel death. I
+writhed under his words, yet dared not exhibit the pain I felt.
+Clerval, whose eyes and feelings were always quick in discerning the
+sensations of others, declined the subject, alleging, in excuse, his
+total ignorance; and the conversation took a more general turn. I
+thanked my friend from my heart, but I did not speak. I saw plainly
+that he was surprised, but he never attempted to draw my secret from
+me; and although I loved him with a mixture of affection and reverence
+that knew no bounds, yet I could never persuade myself to confide in
+him that event which was so often present to my recollection, but which
+I feared the detail to another would only impress more deeply.
+
+M. Krempe was not equally docile; and in my condition at that time, of
+almost insupportable sensitiveness, his harsh blunt encomiums gave me even
+more pain than the benevolent approbation of M. Waldman. “D—n
+the fellow!” cried he; “why, M. Clerval, I assure you he has
+outstript us all. Ay, stare if you please; but it is nevertheless true. A
+youngster who, but a few years ago, believed in Cornelius Agrippa as firmly
+as in the gospel, has now set himself at the head of the university; and if
+he is not soon pulled down, we shall all be out of countenance.—Ay,
+ay,” continued he, observing my face expressive of suffering,
+“M. Frankenstein is modest; an excellent quality in a young man.
+Young men should be diffident of themselves, you know, M. Clerval: I was
+myself when young; but that wears out in a very short time.”
+
+M. Krempe had now commenced an eulogy on himself, which happily turned
+the conversation from a subject that was so annoying to me.
+
+Clerval had never sympathised in my tastes for natural science; and his
+literary pursuits differed wholly from those which had occupied me. He
+came to the university with the design of making himself complete
+master of the oriental languages, and thus he should open a field for
+the plan of life he had marked out for himself. Resolved to pursue no
+inglorious career, he turned his eyes toward the East, as affording
+scope for his spirit of enterprise. The Persian, Arabic, and Sanskrit
+languages engaged his attention, and I was easily induced to enter on
+the same studies. Idleness had ever been irksome to me, and now that I
+wished to fly from reflection, and hated my former studies, I felt
+great relief in being the fellow-pupil with my friend, and found not
+only instruction but consolation in the works of the orientalists. I
+did not, like him, attempt a critical knowledge of their dialects, for
+I did not contemplate making any other use of them than temporary
+amusement. I read merely to understand their meaning, and they well
+repaid my labours. Their melancholy is soothing, and their joy
+elevating, to a degree I never experienced in studying the authors of
+any other country. When you read their writings, life appears to
+consist in a warm sun and a garden of roses,—in the smiles and frowns
+of a fair enemy, and the fire that consumes your own heart. How
+different from the manly and heroical poetry of Greece and Rome!
+
+Summer passed away in these occupations, and my return to Geneva was
+fixed for the latter end of autumn; but being delayed by several
+accidents, winter and snow arrived, the roads were deemed impassable,
+and my journey was retarded until the ensuing spring. I felt this
+delay very bitterly; for I longed to see my native town and my beloved
+friends. My return had only been delayed so long, from an
+unwillingness to leave Clerval in a strange place, before he had become
+acquainted with any of its inhabitants. The winter, however, was spent
+cheerfully; and although the spring was uncommonly late, when it came
+its beauty compensated for its dilatoriness.
+
+The month of May had already commenced, and I expected the letter daily
+which was to fix the date of my departure, when Henry proposed a
+pedestrian tour in the environs of Ingolstadt, that I might bid a
+personal farewell to the country I had so long inhabited. I acceded
+with pleasure to this proposition: I was fond of exercise, and Clerval
+had always been my favourite companion in the ramble of this nature
+that I had taken among the scenes of my native country.
+
+We passed a fortnight in these perambulations: my health and spirits
+had long been restored, and they gained additional strength from the
+salubrious air I breathed, the natural incidents of our progress, and
+the conversation of my friend. Study had before secluded me from the
+intercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me unsocial; but
+Clerval called forth the better feelings of my heart; he again taught
+me to love the aspect of nature, and the cheerful faces of children.
+Excellent friend! how sincerely you did love me, and endeavour to
+elevate my mind until it was on a level with your own. A selfish
+pursuit had cramped and narrowed me, until your gentleness and
+affection warmed and opened my senses; I became the same happy creature
+who, a few years ago, loved and beloved by all, had no sorrow or care.
+When happy, inanimate nature had the power of bestowing on me the most
+delightful sensations. A serene sky and verdant fields filled me with
+ecstasy. The present season was indeed divine; the flowers of spring
+bloomed in the hedges, while those of summer were already in bud. I
+was undisturbed by thoughts which during the preceding year had pressed
+upon me, notwithstanding my endeavours to throw them off, with an
+invincible burden.
+
+Henry rejoiced in my gaiety, and sincerely sympathised in my feelings: he
+exerted himself to amuse me, while he expressed the sensations that filled
+his soul. The resources of his mind on this occasion were truly
+astonishing: his conversation was full of imagination; and very often, in
+imitation of the Persian and Arabic writers, he invented tales of wonderful
+fancy and passion. At other times he repeated my favourite poems, or drew
+me out into arguments, which he supported with great ingenuity.
+
+We returned to our college on a Sunday afternoon: the peasants were
+dancing, and every one we met appeared gay and happy. My own spirits were
+high, and I bounded along with feelings of unbridled joy and hilarity.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 7
+
+
+On my return, I found the following letter from my father:—
+
+“My dear Victor,
+
+“You have probably waited impatiently for a letter to fix the date of
+your return to us; and I was at first tempted to write only a few
+lines, merely mentioning the day on which I should expect you. But
+that would be a cruel kindness, and I dare not do it. What would be
+your surprise, my son, when you expected a happy and glad welcome, to
+behold, on the contrary, tears and wretchedness? And how, Victor, can
+I relate our misfortune? Absence cannot have rendered you callous to
+our joys and griefs; and how shall I inflict pain on my long absent
+son? I wish to prepare you for the woeful news, but I know it is
+impossible; even now your eye skims over the page to seek the words
+which are to convey to you the horrible tidings.
+
+“William is dead!—that sweet child, whose smiles delighted and warmed
+my heart, who was so gentle, yet so gay! Victor, he is murdered!
+
+“I will not attempt to console you; but will simply relate the
+circumstances of the transaction.
+
+“Last Thursday (May 7th), I, my niece, and your two brothers, went to
+walk in Plainpalais. The evening was warm and serene, and we prolonged
+our walk farther than usual. It was already dusk before we thought of
+returning; and then we discovered that William and Ernest, who had gone
+on before, were not to be found. We accordingly rested on a seat until
+they should return. Presently Ernest came, and enquired if we had seen
+his brother; he said, that he had been playing with him, that William
+had run away to hide himself, and that he vainly sought for him, and
+afterwards waited for a long time, but that he did not return.
+
+“This account rather alarmed us, and we continued to search for him
+until night fell, when Elizabeth conjectured that he might have
+returned to the house. He was not there. We returned again, with
+torches; for I could not rest, when I thought that my sweet boy had
+lost himself, and was exposed to all the damps and dews of night;
+Elizabeth also suffered extreme anguish. About five in the morning I
+discovered my lovely boy, whom the night before I had seen blooming and
+active in health, stretched on the grass livid and motionless; the
+print of the murder’s finger was on his neck.
+
+“He was conveyed home, and the anguish that was visible in my
+countenance betrayed the secret to Elizabeth. She was very earnest to
+see the corpse. At first I attempted to prevent her but she persisted,
+and entering the room where it lay, hastily examined the neck of the
+victim, and clasping her hands exclaimed, ‘O God! I have murdered my
+darling child!’
+
+“She fainted, and was restored with extreme difficulty. When she again
+lived, it was only to weep and sigh. She told me, that that same
+evening William had teased her to let him wear a very valuable
+miniature that she possessed of your mother. This picture is gone, and
+was doubtless the temptation which urged the murderer to the deed. We
+have no trace of him at present, although our exertions to discover him
+are unremitted; but they will not restore my beloved William!
+
+“Come, dearest Victor; you alone can console Elizabeth. She weeps
+continually, and accuses herself unjustly as the cause of his death;
+her words pierce my heart. We are all unhappy; but will not that be an
+additional motive for you, my son, to return and be our comforter?
+Your dear mother! Alas, Victor! I now say, Thank God she did not live
+to witness the cruel, miserable death of her youngest darling!
+
+“Come, Victor; not brooding thoughts of vengeance against the assassin,
+but with feelings of peace and gentleness, that will heal, instead of
+festering, the wounds of our minds. Enter the house of mourning, my
+friend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you, and not
+with hatred for your enemies.
+
+“Your affectionate and afflicted father,
+
+“Alphonse Frankenstein.
+
+
+
+“Geneva, May 12th, 17—.”
+
+
+
+Clerval, who had watched my countenance as I read this letter, was
+surprised to observe the despair that succeeded the joy I at first
+expressed on receiving new from my friends. I threw the letter on the
+table, and covered my face with my hands.
+
+“My dear Frankenstein,” exclaimed Henry, when he perceived me
+weep with bitterness, “are you always to be unhappy? My dear friend,
+what has happened?”
+
+I motioned him to take up the letter, while I walked up and down the
+room in the extremest agitation. Tears also gushed from the eyes of
+Clerval, as he read the account of my misfortune.
+
+“I can offer you no consolation, my friend,” said he;
+“your disaster is irreparable. What do you intend to do?”
+
+“To go instantly to Geneva: come with me, Henry, to order the horses.”
+
+During our walk, Clerval endeavoured to say a few words of consolation;
+he could only express his heartfelt sympathy. “Poor William!” said he,
+“dear lovely child, he now sleeps with his angel mother! Who that had
+seen him bright and joyous in his young beauty, but must weep over his
+untimely loss! To die so miserably; to feel the murderer’s grasp! How
+much more a murdered that could destroy radiant innocence! Poor little
+fellow! one only consolation have we; his friends mourn and weep, but
+he is at rest. The pang is over, his sufferings are at an end for ever.
+A sod covers his gentle form, and he knows no pain. He can no longer
+be a subject for pity; we must reserve that for his miserable
+survivors.”
+
+Clerval spoke thus as we hurried through the streets; the words
+impressed themselves on my mind and I remembered them afterwards in
+solitude. But now, as soon as the horses arrived, I hurried into a
+cabriolet, and bade farewell to my friend.
+
+My journey was very melancholy. At first I wished to hurry on, for I longed
+to console and sympathise with my loved and sorrowing friends; but when I
+drew near my native town, I slackened my progress. I could hardly sustain
+the multitude of feelings that crowded into my mind. I passed through
+scenes familiar to my youth, but which I had not seen for nearly six years.
+How altered every thing might be during that time! One sudden and
+desolating change had taken place; but a thousand little circumstances
+might have by degrees worked other alterations, which, although they were
+done more tranquilly, might not be the less decisive. Fear overcame me; I
+dared no advance, dreading a thousand nameless evils that made me tremble,
+although I was unable to define them.
+
+I remained two days at Lausanne, in this painful state of mind. I
+contemplated the lake: the waters were placid; all around was calm; and the
+snowy mountains, “the palaces of nature,” were not changed. By
+degrees the calm and heavenly scene restored me, and I continued my journey
+towards Geneva.
+
+The road ran by the side of the lake, which became narrower as I
+approached my native town. I discovered more distinctly the black
+sides of Jura, and the bright summit of Mont Blanc. I wept like a
+child. “Dear mountains! my own beautiful lake! how do you welcome your
+wanderer? Your summits are clear; the sky and lake are blue and
+placid. Is this to prognosticate peace, or to mock at my unhappiness?”
+
+I fear, my friend, that I shall render myself tedious by dwelling on
+these preliminary circumstances; but they were days of comparative
+happiness, and I think of them with pleasure. My country, my beloved
+country! who but a native can tell the delight I took in again
+beholding thy streams, thy mountains, and, more than all, thy lovely
+lake!
+
+Yet, as I drew nearer home, grief and fear again overcame me. Night also
+closed around; and when I could hardly see the dark mountains, I felt still
+more gloomily. The picture appeared a vast and dim scene of evil, and I
+foresaw obscurely that I was destined to become the most wretched of human
+beings. Alas! I prophesied truly, and failed only in one single
+circumstance, that in all the misery I imagined and dreaded, I did not
+conceive the hundredth part of the anguish I was destined to endure.
+
+It was completely dark when I arrived in the environs of Geneva; the gates
+of the town were already shut; and I was obliged to pass the night at
+Secheron, a village at the distance of half a league from the city. The sky
+was serene; and, as I was unable to rest, I resolved to visit the spot
+where my poor William had been murdered. As I could not pass through the
+town, I was obliged to cross the lake in a boat to arrive at Plainpalais.
+During this short voyage I saw the lightning playing on the summit of Mont
+Blanc in the most beautiful figures. The storm appeared to approach
+rapidly, and, on landing, I ascended a low hill, that I might observe its
+progress. It advanced; the heavens were clouded, and I soon felt the rain
+coming slowly in large drops, but its violence quickly increased.
+
+I quitted my seat, and walked on, although the darkness and storm
+increased every minute, and the thunder burst with a terrific crash
+over my head. It was echoed from Salêve, the Juras, and the Alps of
+Savoy; vivid flashes of lightning dazzled my eyes, illuminating the
+lake, making it appear like a vast sheet of fire; then for an instant
+every thing seemed of a pitchy darkness, until the eye recovered itself
+from the preceding flash. The storm, as is often the case in
+Switzerland, appeared at once in various parts of the heavens. The
+most violent storm hung exactly north of the town, over the part of the
+lake which lies between the promontory of Belrive and the village of
+Copêt. Another storm enlightened Jura with faint flashes; and another
+darkened and sometimes disclosed the Môle, a peaked mountain to the
+east of the lake.
+
+While I watched the tempest, so beautiful yet terrific, I wandered on with
+a hasty step. This noble war in the sky elevated my spirits; I clasped my
+hands, and exclaimed aloud, “William, dear angel! this is thy
+funeral, this thy dirge!” As I said these words, I perceived in the
+gloom a figure which stole from behind a clump of trees near me; I stood
+fixed, gazing intently: I could not be mistaken. A flash of lightning
+illuminated the object, and discovered its shape plainly to me; its
+gigantic stature, and the deformity of its aspect more hideous than belongs
+to humanity, instantly informed me that it was the wretch, the filthy
+dæmon, to whom I had given life. What did he there? Could he be (I
+shuddered at the conception) the murderer of my brother? No sooner did that
+idea cross my imagination, than I became convinced of its truth; my teeth
+chattered, and I was forced to lean against a tree for support. The figure
+passed me quickly, and I lost it in the gloom. Nothing in human shape could
+have destroyed the fair child. _He_ was the murderer! I could not
+doubt it. The mere presence of the idea was an irresistible proof of the
+fact. I thought of pursuing the devil; but it would have been in vain, for
+another flash discovered him to me hanging among the rocks of the nearly
+perpendicular ascent of Mont Salêve, a hill that bounds Plainpalais on the
+south. He soon reached the summit, and disappeared.
+
+I remained motionless. The thunder ceased; but the rain still
+continued, and the scene was enveloped in an impenetrable darkness. I
+revolved in my mind the events which I had until now sought to forget:
+the whole train of my progress toward the creation; the appearance of
+the works of my own hands at my bedside; its departure. Two years had
+now nearly elapsed since the night on which he first received life; and
+was this his first crime? Alas! I had turned loose into the world a
+depraved wretch, whose delight was in carnage and misery; had he not
+murdered my brother?
+
+No one can conceive the anguish I suffered during the remainder of the
+night, which I spent, cold and wet, in the open air. But I did not
+feel the inconvenience of the weather; my imagination was busy in
+scenes of evil and despair. I considered the being whom I had cast
+among mankind, and endowed with the will and power to effect purposes
+of horror, such as the deed which he had now done, nearly in the light
+of my own vampire, my own spirit let loose from the grave, and forced
+to destroy all that was dear to me.
+
+Day dawned; and I directed my steps towards the town. The gates were
+open, and I hastened to my father’s house. My first thought was to
+discover what I knew of the murderer, and cause instant pursuit to be
+made. But I paused when I reflected on the story that I had to tell. A
+being whom I myself had formed, and endued with life, had met me at
+midnight among the precipices of an inaccessible mountain. I
+remembered also the nervous fever with which I had been seized just at
+the time that I dated my creation, and which would give an air of
+delirium to a tale otherwise so utterly improbable. I well knew that
+if any other had communicated such a relation to me, I should have
+looked upon it as the ravings of insanity. Besides, the strange nature
+of the animal would elude all pursuit, even if I were so far credited
+as to persuade my relatives to commence it. And then of what use would
+be pursuit? Who could arrest a creature capable of scaling the
+overhanging sides of Mont Salêve? These reflections determined me, and
+I resolved to remain silent.
+
+It was about five in the morning when I entered my father’s house. I
+told the servants not to disturb the family, and went into the library
+to attend their usual hour of rising.
+
+Six years had elapsed, passed in a dream but for one indelible trace, and I
+stood in the same place where I had last embraced my father before my
+departure for Ingolstadt. Beloved and venerable parent! He still remained
+to me. I gazed on the picture of my mother, which stood over the
+mantel-piece. It was an historical subject, painted at my father’s
+desire, and represented Caroline Beaufort in an agony of despair, kneeling
+by the coffin of her dead father. Her garb was rustic, and her cheek pale;
+but there was an air of dignity and beauty, that hardly permitted the
+sentiment of pity. Below this picture was a miniature of William; and my
+tears flowed when I looked upon it. While I was thus engaged, Ernest
+entered: he had heard me arrive, and hastened to welcome me:
+“Welcome, my dearest Victor,” said he. “Ah! I wish you
+had come three months ago, and then you would have found us all joyous and
+delighted. You come to us now to share a misery which nothing can
+alleviate; yet your presence will, I hope, revive our father, who seems
+sinking under his misfortune; and your persuasions will induce poor
+Elizabeth to cease her vain and tormenting self-accusations.—Poor
+William! he was our darling and our pride!”
+
+Tears, unrestrained, fell from my brother’s eyes; a sense of mortal
+agony crept over my frame. Before, I had only imagined the
+wretchedness of my desolated home; the reality came on me as a new, and
+a not less terrible, disaster. I tried to calm Ernest; I enquired more
+minutely concerning my father, and here I named my cousin.
+
+“She most of all,” said Ernest, “requires consolation; she accused
+herself of having caused the death of my brother, and that made her
+very wretched. But since the murderer has been discovered—”
+
+“The murderer discovered! Good God! how can that be? who could attempt
+to pursue him? It is impossible; one might as well try to overtake the
+winds, or confine a mountain-stream with a straw. I saw him too; he
+was free last night!”
+
+“I do not know what you mean,” replied my brother, in accents of
+wonder, “but to us the discovery we have made completes our misery. No
+one would believe it at first; and even now Elizabeth will not be
+convinced, notwithstanding all the evidence. Indeed, who would credit
+that Justine Moritz, who was so amiable, and fond of all the family,
+could suddenly become so capable of so frightful, so appalling a crime?”
+
+“Justine Moritz! Poor, poor girl, is she the accused? But it is
+wrongfully; every one knows that; no one believes it, surely, Ernest?”
+
+“No one did at first; but several circumstances came out, that have
+almost forced conviction upon us; and her own behaviour has been so
+confused, as to add to the evidence of facts a weight that, I fear,
+leaves no hope for doubt. But she will be tried today, and you will
+then hear all.”
+
+He then related that, the morning on which the murder of poor William
+had been discovered, Justine had been taken ill, and confined to her
+bed for several days. During this interval, one of the servants,
+happening to examine the apparel she had worn on the night of the
+murder, had discovered in her pocket the picture of my mother, which
+had been judged to be the temptation of the murderer. The servant
+instantly showed it to one of the others, who, without saying a word to
+any of the family, went to a magistrate; and, upon their deposition,
+Justine was apprehended. On being charged with the fact, the poor girl
+confirmed the suspicion in a great measure by her extreme confusion of
+manner.
+
+This was a strange tale, but it did not shake my faith; and I replied
+earnestly, “You are all mistaken; I know the murderer. Justine, poor,
+good Justine, is innocent.”
+
+At that instant my father entered. I saw unhappiness deeply impressed
+on his countenance, but he endeavoured to welcome me cheerfully; and,
+after we had exchanged our mournful greeting, would have introduced
+some other topic than that of our disaster, had not Ernest exclaimed,
+“Good God, papa! Victor says that he knows who was the murderer of
+poor William.”
+
+“We do also, unfortunately,” replied my father, “for indeed I had
+rather have been for ever ignorant than have discovered so much
+depravity and ungratitude in one I valued so highly.”
+
+“My dear father, you are mistaken; Justine is innocent.”
+
+“If she is, God forbid that she should suffer as guilty. She is to be
+tried today, and I hope, I sincerely hope, that she will be acquitted.”
+
+This speech calmed me. I was firmly convinced in my own mind that
+Justine, and indeed every human being, was guiltless of this murder. I
+had no fear, therefore, that any circumstantial evidence could be
+brought forward strong enough to convict her. My tale was not one to
+announce publicly; its astounding horror would be looked upon as
+madness by the vulgar. Did any one indeed exist, except I, the
+creator, who would believe, unless his senses convinced him, in the
+existence of the living monument of presumption and rash ignorance
+which I had let loose upon the world?
+
+We were soon joined by Elizabeth. Time had altered her since I last
+beheld her; it had endowed her with loveliness surpassing the beauty of
+her childish years. There was the same candour, the same vivacity, but
+it was allied to an expression more full of sensibility and intellect.
+She welcomed me with the greatest affection. “Your arrival, my dear
+cousin,” said she, “fills me with hope. You perhaps will find some
+means to justify my poor guiltless Justine. Alas! who is safe, if she
+be convicted of crime? I rely on her innocence as certainly as I do
+upon my own. Our misfortune is doubly hard to us; we have not only
+lost that lovely darling boy, but this poor girl, whom I sincerely
+love, is to be torn away by even a worse fate. If she is condemned, I
+never shall know joy more. But she will not, I am sure she will not;
+and then I shall be happy again, even after the sad death of my little
+William.”
+
+“She is innocent, my Elizabeth,” said I, “and that shall
+be proved; fear nothing, but let your spirits be cheered by the assurance
+of her acquittal.”
+
+“How kind and generous you are! every one else believes in her guilt,
+and that made me wretched, for I knew that it was impossible: and to
+see every one else prejudiced in so deadly a manner rendered me
+hopeless and despairing.” She wept.
+
+“Dearest niece,” said my father, “dry your tears. If she
+is, as you believe, innocent, rely on the justice of our laws, and the
+activity with which I shall prevent the slightest shadow of
+partiality.”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 8
+
+
+We passed a few sad hours until eleven o’clock, when the trial was to
+commence. My father and the rest of the family being obliged to attend
+as witnesses, I accompanied them to the court. During the whole of
+this wretched mockery of justice I suffered living torture. It was to
+be decided whether the result of my curiosity and lawless devices would
+cause the death of two of my fellow beings: one a smiling babe full of
+innocence and joy, the other far more dreadfully murdered, with every
+aggravation of infamy that could make the murder memorable in horror.
+Justine also was a girl of merit and possessed qualities which promised
+to render her life happy; now all was to be obliterated in an
+ignominious grave, and I the cause! A thousand times rather would I
+have confessed myself guilty of the crime ascribed to Justine, but I
+was absent when it was committed, and such a declaration would have
+been considered as the ravings of a madman and would not have
+exculpated her who suffered through me.
+
+The appearance of Justine was calm. She was dressed in mourning, and
+her countenance, always engaging, was rendered, by the solemnity of her
+feelings, exquisitely beautiful. Yet she appeared confident in
+innocence and did not tremble, although gazed on and execrated by
+thousands, for all the kindness which her beauty might otherwise have
+excited was obliterated in the minds of the spectators by the
+imagination of the enormity she was supposed to have committed. She
+was tranquil, yet her tranquillity was evidently constrained; and as
+her confusion had before been adduced as a proof of her guilt, she
+worked up her mind to an appearance of courage. When she entered the
+court she threw her eyes round it and quickly discovered where we were
+seated. A tear seemed to dim her eye when she saw us, but she quickly
+recovered herself, and a look of sorrowful affection seemed to attest
+her utter guiltlessness.
+
+The trial began, and after the advocate against her had stated the
+charge, several witnesses were called. Several strange facts combined
+against her, which might have staggered anyone who had not such proof
+of her innocence as I had. She had been out the whole of the night on
+which the murder had been committed and towards morning had been
+perceived by a market-woman not far from the spot where the body of the
+murdered child had been afterwards found. The woman asked her what she
+did there, but she looked very strangely and only returned a confused
+and unintelligible answer. She returned to the house about eight
+o’clock, and when one inquired where she had passed the night, she
+replied that she had been looking for the child and demanded earnestly
+if anything had been heard concerning him. When shown the body, she
+fell into violent hysterics and kept her bed for several days. The
+picture was then produced which the servant had found in her pocket;
+and when Elizabeth, in a faltering voice, proved that it was the same
+which, an hour before the child had been missed, she had placed round
+his neck, a murmur of horror and indignation filled the court.
+
+Justine was called on for her defence. As the trial had proceeded, her
+countenance had altered. Surprise, horror, and misery were strongly
+expressed. Sometimes she struggled with her tears, but when she was
+desired to plead, she collected her powers and spoke in an audible
+although variable voice.
+
+“God knows,” she said, “how entirely I am innocent. But I
+do not pretend that my protestations should acquit me; I rest my innocence
+on a plain and simple explanation of the facts which have been adduced
+against me, and I hope the character I have always borne will incline my
+judges to a favourable interpretation where any circumstance appears
+doubtful or suspicious.”
+
+She then related that, by the permission of Elizabeth, she had passed
+the evening of the night on which the murder had been committed at the
+house of an aunt at Chêne, a village situated at about a league from
+Geneva. On her return, at about nine o’clock, she met a man who asked
+her if she had seen anything of the child who was lost. She was
+alarmed by this account and passed several hours in looking for him,
+when the gates of Geneva were shut, and she was forced to remain
+several hours of the night in a barn belonging to a cottage, being
+unwilling to call up the inhabitants, to whom she was well known. Most
+of the night she spent here watching; towards morning she believed that
+she slept for a few minutes; some steps disturbed her, and she awoke.
+It was dawn, and she quitted her asylum, that she might again endeavour
+to find my brother. If she had gone near the spot where his body lay,
+it was without her knowledge. That she had been bewildered when
+questioned by the market-woman was not surprising, since she had passed
+a sleepless night and the fate of poor William was yet uncertain.
+Concerning the picture she could give no account.
+
+“I know,” continued the unhappy victim, “how heavily and
+fatally this one circumstance weighs against me, but I have no power of
+explaining it; and when I have expressed my utter ignorance, I am only left
+to conjecture concerning the probabilities by which it might have been
+placed in my pocket. But here also I am checked. I believe that I have no
+enemy on earth, and none surely would have been so wicked as to destroy me
+wantonly. Did the murderer place it there? I know of no opportunity
+afforded him for so doing; or, if I had, why should he have stolen the
+jewel, to part with it again so soon?
+
+“I commit my cause to the justice of my judges, yet I see no room for
+hope. I beg permission to have a few witnesses examined concerning my
+character, and if their testimony shall not overweigh my supposed
+guilt, I must be condemned, although I would pledge my salvation on my
+innocence.”
+
+Several witnesses were called who had known her for many years, and
+they spoke well of her; but fear and hatred of the crime of which they
+supposed her guilty rendered them timorous and unwilling to come
+forward. Elizabeth saw even this last resource, her excellent
+dispositions and irreproachable conduct, about to fail the accused,
+when, although violently agitated, she desired permission to address
+the court.
+
+“I am,” said she, “the cousin of the unhappy child who
+was murdered, or rather his sister, for I was educated by and have lived
+with his parents ever since and even long before his birth. It may
+therefore be judged indecent in me to come forward on this occasion, but
+when I see a fellow creature about to perish through the cowardice of her
+pretended friends, I wish to be allowed to speak, that I may say what I
+know of her character. I am well acquainted with the accused. I have lived
+in the same house with her, at one time for five and at another for nearly
+two years. During all that period she appeared to me the most amiable and
+benevolent of human creatures. She nursed Madame Frankenstein, my aunt, in
+her last illness, with the greatest affection and care and afterwards
+attended her own mother during a tedious illness, in a manner that excited
+the admiration of all who knew her, after which she again lived in my
+uncle’s house, where she was beloved by all the family. She was
+warmly attached to the child who is now dead and acted towards him like a
+most affectionate mother. For my own part, I do not hesitate to say that,
+notwithstanding all the evidence produced against her, I believe and rely
+on her perfect innocence. She had no temptation for such an action; as to
+the bauble on which the chief proof rests, if she had earnestly desired it,
+I should have willingly given it to her, so much do I esteem and value
+her.”
+
+A murmur of approbation followed Elizabeth’s simple and powerful
+appeal, but it was excited by her generous interference, and not in
+favour of poor Justine, on whom the public indignation was turned with
+renewed violence, charging her with the blackest ingratitude. She
+herself wept as Elizabeth spoke, but she did not answer. My own
+agitation and anguish was extreme during the whole trial. I believed
+in her innocence; I knew it. Could the dæmon who had (I did not for a
+minute doubt) murdered my brother also in his hellish sport have
+betrayed the innocent to death and ignominy? I could not sustain the
+horror of my situation, and when I perceived that the popular voice and
+the countenances of the judges had already condemned my unhappy victim,
+I rushed out of the court in agony. The tortures of the accused did
+not equal mine; she was sustained by innocence, but the fangs of
+remorse tore my bosom and would not forgo their hold.
+
+I passed a night of unmingled wretchedness. In the morning I went to
+the court; my lips and throat were parched. I dared not ask the fatal
+question, but I was known, and the officer guessed the cause of my
+visit. The ballots had been thrown; they were all black, and Justine
+was condemned.
+
+I cannot pretend to describe what I then felt. I had before
+experienced sensations of horror, and I have endeavoured to bestow upon
+them adequate expressions, but words cannot convey an idea of the
+heart-sickening despair that I then endured. The person to whom I
+addressed myself added that Justine had already confessed her guilt.
+“That evidence,” he observed, “was hardly required in so glaring a
+case, but I am glad of it, and, indeed, none of our judges like to
+condemn a criminal upon circumstantial evidence, be it ever so
+decisive.”
+
+This was strange and unexpected intelligence; what could it mean? Had
+my eyes deceived me? And was I really as mad as the whole world would
+believe me to be if I disclosed the object of my suspicions? I
+hastened to return home, and Elizabeth eagerly demanded the result.
+
+“My cousin,” replied I, “it is decided as you may have expected; all
+judges had rather that ten innocent should suffer than that one guilty
+should escape. But she has confessed.”
+
+This was a dire blow to poor Elizabeth, who had relied with firmness upon
+Justine’s innocence. “Alas!” said she. “How shall I
+ever again believe in human goodness? Justine, whom I loved and esteemed as
+my sister, how could she put on those smiles of innocence only to betray?
+Her mild eyes seemed incapable of any severity or guile, and yet she has
+committed a murder.”
+
+Soon after we heard that the poor victim had expressed a desire to see my
+cousin. My father wished her not to go but said that he left it to her own
+judgment and feelings to decide. “Yes,” said Elizabeth,
+“I will go, although she is guilty; and you, Victor, shall accompany
+me; I cannot go alone.” The idea of this visit was torture to me, yet
+I could not refuse.
+
+We entered the gloomy prison chamber and beheld Justine sitting on some
+straw at the farther end; her hands were manacled, and her head rested on
+her knees. She rose on seeing us enter, and when we were left alone with
+her, she threw herself at the feet of Elizabeth, weeping bitterly. My
+cousin wept also.
+
+“Oh, Justine!” said she. “Why did you rob me of my last consolation?
+I relied on your innocence, and although I was then very wretched, I
+was not so miserable as I am now.”
+
+“And do you also believe that I am so very, very wicked? Do you also
+join with my enemies to crush me, to condemn me as a murderer?” Her
+voice was suffocated with sobs.
+
+“Rise, my poor girl,” said Elizabeth; “why do you kneel,
+if you are innocent? I am not one of your enemies, I believed you
+guiltless, notwithstanding every evidence, until I heard that you had
+yourself declared your guilt. That report, you say, is false; and be
+assured, dear Justine, that nothing can shake my confidence in you for a
+moment, but your own confession.”
+
+“I did confess, but I confessed a lie. I confessed, that I might
+obtain absolution; but now that falsehood lies heavier at my heart than
+all my other sins. The God of heaven forgive me! Ever since I was
+condemned, my confessor has besieged me; he threatened and menaced,
+until I almost began to think that I was the monster that he said I
+was. He threatened excommunication and hell fire in my last moments if
+I continued obdurate. Dear lady, I had none to support me; all looked
+on me as a wretch doomed to ignominy and perdition. What could I do?
+In an evil hour I subscribed to a lie; and now only am I truly
+miserable.”
+
+She paused, weeping, and then continued, “I thought with horror, my
+sweet lady, that you should believe your Justine, whom your blessed
+aunt had so highly honoured, and whom you loved, was a creature capable
+of a crime which none but the devil himself could have perpetrated.
+Dear William! dearest blessed child! I soon shall see you again in
+heaven, where we shall all be happy; and that consoles me, going as I
+am to suffer ignominy and death.”
+
+“Oh, Justine! Forgive me for having for one moment distrusted you.
+Why did you confess? But do not mourn, dear girl. Do not fear. I
+will proclaim, I will prove your innocence. I will melt the stony
+hearts of your enemies by my tears and prayers. You shall not die!
+You, my playfellow, my companion, my sister, perish on the scaffold!
+No! No! I never could survive so horrible a misfortune.”
+
+Justine shook her head mournfully. “I do not fear to die,” she said;
+“that pang is past. God raises my weakness and gives me courage to
+endure the worst. I leave a sad and bitter world; and if you remember
+me and think of me as of one unjustly condemned, I am resigned to the
+fate awaiting me. Learn from me, dear lady, to submit in patience to
+the will of heaven!”
+
+During this conversation I had retired to a corner of the prison room,
+where I could conceal the horrid anguish that possessed me. Despair!
+Who dared talk of that? The poor victim, who on the morrow was to pass
+the awful boundary between life and death, felt not, as I did, such
+deep and bitter agony. I gnashed my teeth and ground them together,
+uttering a groan that came from my inmost soul. Justine started. When
+she saw who it was, she approached me and said, “Dear sir, you are very
+kind to visit me; you, I hope, do not believe that I am guilty?”
+
+I could not answer. “No, Justine,” said Elizabeth; “he is more
+convinced of your innocence than I was, for even when he heard that you
+had confessed, he did not credit it.”
+
+“I truly thank him. In these last moments I feel the sincerest
+gratitude towards those who think of me with kindness. How sweet is
+the affection of others to such a wretch as I am! It removes more than
+half my misfortune, and I feel as if I could die in peace now that my
+innocence is acknowledged by you, dear lady, and your cousin.”
+
+Thus the poor sufferer tried to comfort others and herself. She indeed
+gained the resignation she desired. But I, the true murderer, felt the
+never-dying worm alive in my bosom, which allowed of no hope or
+consolation. Elizabeth also wept and was unhappy, but hers also was
+the misery of innocence, which, like a cloud that passes over the fair
+moon, for a while hides but cannot tarnish its brightness. Anguish and
+despair had penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell within
+me which nothing could extinguish. We stayed several hours with
+Justine, and it was with great difficulty that Elizabeth could tear
+herself away. “I wish,” cried she, “that I were to die with you; I
+cannot live in this world of misery.”
+
+Justine assumed an air of cheerfulness, while she with difficulty
+repressed her bitter tears. She embraced Elizabeth and said in a voice
+of half-suppressed emotion, “Farewell, sweet lady, dearest Elizabeth,
+my beloved and only friend; may heaven, in its bounty, bless and
+preserve you; may this be the last misfortune that you will ever
+suffer! Live, and be happy, and make others so.”
+
+And on the morrow Justine died. Elizabeth’s heart-rending eloquence
+failed to move the judges from their settled conviction in the
+criminality of the saintly sufferer. My passionate and indignant
+appeals were lost upon them. And when I received their cold answers
+and heard the harsh, unfeeling reasoning of these men, my purposed
+avowal died away on my lips. Thus I might proclaim myself a madman,
+but not revoke the sentence passed upon my wretched victim. She
+perished on the scaffold as a murderess!
+
+From the tortures of my own heart, I turned to contemplate the deep and
+voiceless grief of my Elizabeth. This also was my doing! And my
+father’s woe, and the desolation of that late so smiling home all was
+the work of my thrice-accursed hands! Ye weep, unhappy ones, but these
+are not your last tears! Again shall you raise the funeral wail, and
+the sound of your lamentations shall again and again be heard!
+Frankenstein, your son, your kinsman, your early, much-loved friend; he
+who would spend each vital drop of blood for your sakes, who has no
+thought nor sense of joy except as it is mirrored also in your dear
+countenances, who would fill the air with blessings and spend his life
+in serving you—he bids you weep, to shed countless tears; happy beyond
+his hopes, if thus inexorable fate be satisfied, and if the destruction
+pause before the peace of the grave have succeeded to your sad torments!
+
+Thus spoke my prophetic soul, as, torn by remorse, horror, and despair,
+I beheld those I loved spend vain sorrow upon the graves of William and
+Justine, the first hapless victims to my unhallowed arts.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 9
+
+
+Nothing is more painful to the human mind than, after the feelings have
+been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of
+inaction and certainty which follows and deprives the soul both of hope
+and fear. Justine died, she rested, and I was alive. The blood flowed
+freely in my veins, but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my
+heart which nothing could remove. Sleep fled from my eyes; I wandered
+like an evil spirit, for I had committed deeds of mischief beyond
+description horrible, and more, much more (I persuaded myself) was yet
+behind. Yet my heart overflowed with kindness and the love of virtue.
+I had begun life with benevolent intentions and thirsted for the moment
+when I should put them in practice and make myself useful to my fellow
+beings. Now all was blasted; instead of that serenity of conscience
+which allowed me to look back upon the past with self-satisfaction, and
+from thence to gather promise of new hopes, I was seized by remorse and
+the sense of guilt, which hurried me away to a hell of intense tortures
+such as no language can describe.
+
+This state of mind preyed upon my health, which had perhaps never
+entirely recovered from the first shock it had sustained. I shunned
+the face of man; all sound of joy or complacency was torture to me;
+solitude was my only consolation—deep, dark, deathlike solitude.
+
+My father observed with pain the alteration perceptible in my disposition
+and habits and endeavoured by arguments deduced from the feelings of his
+serene conscience and guiltless life to inspire me with fortitude and
+awaken in me the courage to dispel the dark cloud which brooded over me.
+“Do you think, Victor,” said he, “that I do not suffer
+also? No one could love a child more than I loved your
+brother”—tears came into his eyes as he spoke—“but
+is it not a duty to the survivors that we should refrain from augmenting
+their unhappiness by an appearance of immoderate grief? It is also a duty
+owed to yourself, for excessive sorrow prevents improvement or enjoyment,
+or even the discharge of daily usefulness, without which no man is fit for
+society.”
+
+This advice, although good, was totally inapplicable to my case; I
+should have been the first to hide my grief and console my friends if
+remorse had not mingled its bitterness, and terror its alarm, with my
+other sensations. Now I could only answer my father with a look of
+despair and endeavour to hide myself from his view.
+
+About this time we retired to our house at Belrive. This change was
+particularly agreeable to me. The shutting of the gates regularly at
+ten o’clock and the impossibility of remaining on the lake after that
+hour had rendered our residence within the walls of Geneva very irksome
+to me. I was now free. Often, after the rest of the family had
+retired for the night, I took the boat and passed many hours upon the
+water. Sometimes, with my sails set, I was carried by the wind; and
+sometimes, after rowing into the middle of the lake, I left the boat to
+pursue its own course and gave way to my own miserable reflections. I
+was often tempted, when all was at peace around me, and I the only
+unquiet thing that wandered restless in a scene so beautiful and
+heavenly—if I except some bat, or the frogs, whose harsh and
+interrupted croaking was heard only when I approached the shore—often,
+I say, I was tempted to plunge into the silent lake, that the waters
+might close over me and my calamities for ever. But I was restrained,
+when I thought of the heroic and suffering Elizabeth, whom I tenderly
+loved, and whose existence was bound up in mine. I thought also of my
+father and surviving brother; should I by my base desertion leave them
+exposed and unprotected to the malice of the fiend whom I had let loose
+among them?
+
+At these moments I wept bitterly and wished that peace would revisit my
+mind only that I might afford them consolation and happiness. But that
+could not be. Remorse extinguished every hope. I had been the author of
+unalterable evils, and I lived in daily fear lest the monster whom I had
+created should perpetrate some new wickedness. I had an obscure feeling
+that all was not over and that he would still commit some signal crime,
+which by its enormity should almost efface the recollection of the past.
+There was always scope for fear so long as anything I loved remained
+behind. My abhorrence of this fiend cannot be conceived. When I thought of
+him I gnashed my teeth, my eyes became inflamed, and I ardently wished to
+extinguish that life which I had so thoughtlessly bestowed. When I
+reflected on his crimes and malice, my hatred and revenge burst all bounds
+of moderation. I would have made a pilgrimage to the highest peak of the
+Andes, could I, when there, have precipitated him to their base. I wished
+to see him again, that I might wreak the utmost extent of abhorrence on his
+head and avenge the deaths of William and Justine.
+
+Our house was the house of mourning. My father’s health was deeply
+shaken by the horror of the recent events. Elizabeth was sad and
+desponding; she no longer took delight in her ordinary occupations; all
+pleasure seemed to her sacrilege toward the dead; eternal woe and tears she
+then thought was the just tribute she should pay to innocence so blasted
+and destroyed. She was no longer that happy creature who in earlier youth
+wandered with me on the banks of the lake and talked with ecstasy of our
+future prospects. The first of those sorrows which are sent to wean us from
+the earth had visited her, and its dimming influence quenched her dearest
+smiles.
+
+“When I reflect, my dear cousin,” said she, “on the miserable death of
+Justine Moritz, I no longer see the world and its works as they before
+appeared to me. Before, I looked upon the accounts of vice and
+injustice that I read in books or heard from others as tales of ancient
+days or imaginary evils; at least they were remote and more familiar to
+reason than to the imagination; but now misery has come home, and men
+appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other’s blood. Yet I am
+certainly unjust. Everybody believed that poor girl to be guilty; and
+if she could have committed the crime for which she suffered, assuredly
+she would have been the most depraved of human creatures. For the sake
+of a few jewels, to have murdered the son of her benefactor and friend,
+a child whom she had nursed from its birth, and appeared to love as if
+it had been her own! I could not consent to the death of any human
+being, but certainly I should have thought such a creature unfit to
+remain in the society of men. But she was innocent. I know, I feel
+she was innocent; you are of the same opinion, and that confirms me.
+Alas! Victor, when falsehood can look so like the truth, who can
+assure themselves of certain happiness? I feel as if I were walking on
+the edge of a precipice, towards which thousands are crowding and
+endeavouring to plunge me into the abyss. William and Justine were
+assassinated, and the murderer escapes; he walks about the world free,
+and perhaps respected. But even if I were condemned to suffer on the
+scaffold for the same crimes, I would not change places with such a
+wretch.”
+
+I listened to this discourse with the extremest agony. I, not in deed,
+but in effect, was the true murderer. Elizabeth read my anguish in my
+countenance, and kindly taking my hand, said, “My dearest friend, you
+must calm yourself. These events have affected me, God knows how
+deeply; but I am not so wretched as you are. There is an expression of
+despair, and sometimes of revenge, in your countenance that makes me
+tremble. Dear Victor, banish these dark passions. Remember the
+friends around you, who centre all their hopes in you. Have we lost
+the power of rendering you happy? Ah! While we love, while we are
+true to each other, here in this land of peace and beauty, your native
+country, we may reap every tranquil blessing—what can disturb our
+peace?”
+
+And could not such words from her whom I fondly prized before every
+other gift of fortune suffice to chase away the fiend that lurked in my
+heart? Even as she spoke I drew near to her, as if in terror, lest at
+that very moment the destroyer had been near to rob me of her.
+
+Thus not the tenderness of friendship, nor the beauty of earth, nor of
+heaven, could redeem my soul from woe; the very accents of love were
+ineffectual. I was encompassed by a cloud which no beneficial
+influence could penetrate. The wounded deer dragging its fainting
+limbs to some untrodden brake, there to gaze upon the arrow which had
+pierced it, and to die, was but a type of me.
+
+Sometimes I could cope with the sullen despair that overwhelmed me, but
+sometimes the whirlwind passions of my soul drove me to seek, by bodily
+exercise and by change of place, some relief from my intolerable
+sensations. It was during an access of this kind that I suddenly left
+my home, and bending my steps towards the near Alpine valleys, sought
+in the magnificence, the eternity of such scenes, to forget myself and
+my ephemeral, because human, sorrows. My wanderings were directed
+towards the valley of Chamounix. I had visited it frequently during my
+boyhood. Six years had passed since then: _I_ was a wreck, but nought
+had changed in those savage and enduring scenes.
+
+I performed the first part of my journey on horseback. I afterwards
+hired a mule, as the more sure-footed and least liable to receive
+injury on these rugged roads. The weather was fine; it was about the
+middle of the month of August, nearly two months after the death of
+Justine, that miserable epoch from which I dated all my woe. The
+weight upon my spirit was sensibly lightened as I plunged yet deeper in
+the ravine of Arve. The immense mountains and precipices that overhung
+me on every side, the sound of the river raging among the rocks, and
+the dashing of the waterfalls around spoke of a power mighty as
+Omnipotence—and I ceased to fear or to bend before any being less
+almighty than that which had created and ruled the elements, here
+displayed in their most terrific guise. Still, as I ascended higher,
+the valley assumed a more magnificent and astonishing character.
+Ruined castles hanging on the precipices of piny mountains, the
+impetuous Arve, and cottages every here and there peeping forth from
+among the trees formed a scene of singular beauty. But it was
+augmented and rendered sublime by the mighty Alps, whose white and
+shining pyramids and domes towered above all, as belonging to another
+earth, the habitations of another race of beings.
+
+I passed the bridge of Pélissier, where the ravine, which the river
+forms, opened before me, and I began to ascend the mountain that
+overhangs it. Soon after, I entered the valley of Chamounix. This
+valley is more wonderful and sublime, but not so beautiful and
+picturesque as that of Servox, through which I had just passed. The
+high and snowy mountains were its immediate boundaries, but I saw no
+more ruined castles and fertile fields. Immense glaciers approached
+the road; I heard the rumbling thunder of the falling avalanche and
+marked the smoke of its passage. Mont Blanc, the supreme and
+magnificent Mont Blanc, raised itself from the surrounding _aiguilles_,
+and its tremendous _dôme_ overlooked the valley.
+
+A tingling long-lost sense of pleasure often came across me during this
+journey. Some turn in the road, some new object suddenly perceived and
+recognised, reminded me of days gone by, and were associated with the
+lighthearted gaiety of boyhood. The very winds whispered in soothing
+accents, and maternal Nature bade me weep no more. Then again the
+kindly influence ceased to act—I found myself fettered again to grief
+and indulging in all the misery of reflection. Then I spurred on my
+animal, striving so to forget the world, my fears, and more than all,
+myself—or, in a more desperate fashion, I alighted and threw myself on
+the grass, weighed down by horror and despair.
+
+At length I arrived at the village of Chamounix. Exhaustion succeeded
+to the extreme fatigue both of body and of mind which I had endured.
+For a short space of time I remained at the window watching the pallid
+lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of
+the Arve, which pursued its noisy way beneath. The same lulling sounds
+acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my head
+upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessed
+the giver of oblivion.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 10
+
+
+I spent the following day roaming through the valley. I stood beside
+the sources of the Arveiron, which take their rise in a glacier, that
+with slow pace is advancing down from the summit of the hills to
+barricade the valley. The abrupt sides of vast mountains were before
+me; the icy wall of the glacier overhung me; a few shattered pines were
+scattered around; and the solemn silence of this glorious
+presence-chamber of imperial Nature was broken only by the brawling
+waves or the fall of some vast fragment, the thunder sound of the
+avalanche or the cracking, reverberated along the mountains, of the
+accumulated ice, which, through the silent working of immutable laws,
+was ever and anon rent and torn, as if it had been but a plaything in
+their hands. These sublime and magnificent scenes afforded me the
+greatest consolation that I was capable of receiving. They elevated me
+from all littleness of feeling, and although they did not remove my
+grief, they subdued and tranquillised it. In some degree, also, they
+diverted my mind from the thoughts over which it had brooded for the
+last month. I retired to rest at night; my slumbers, as it were,
+waited on and ministered to by the assemblance of grand shapes which I
+had contemplated during the day. They congregated round me; the
+unstained snowy mountain-top, the glittering pinnacle, the pine woods,
+and ragged bare ravine, the eagle, soaring amidst the clouds—they all
+gathered round me and bade me be at peace.
+
+Where had they fled when the next morning I awoke? All of
+soul-inspiriting fled with sleep, and dark melancholy clouded every
+thought. The rain was pouring in torrents, and thick mists hid the
+summits of the mountains, so that I even saw not the faces of those
+mighty friends. Still I would penetrate their misty veil and seek them
+in their cloudy retreats. What were rain and storm to me? My mule was
+brought to the door, and I resolved to ascend to the summit of
+Montanvert. I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous
+and ever-moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first saw it.
+It had then filled me with a sublime ecstasy that gave wings to the
+soul and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy.
+The sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed always the
+effect of solemnising my mind and causing me to forget the passing
+cares of life. I determined to go without a guide, for I was well
+acquainted with the path, and the presence of another would destroy the
+solitary grandeur of the scene.
+
+The ascent is precipitous, but the path is cut into continual and short
+windings, which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of the
+mountain. It is a scene terrifically desolate. In a thousand spots
+the traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived, where trees lie
+broken and strewed on the ground, some entirely destroyed, others bent,
+leaning upon the jutting rocks of the mountain or transversely upon
+other trees. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines
+of snow, down which stones continually roll from above; one of them is
+particularly dangerous, as the slightest sound, such as even speaking
+in a loud voice, produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw
+destruction upon the head of the speaker. The pines are not tall or
+luxuriant, but they are sombre and add an air of severity to the scene.
+I looked on the valley beneath; vast mists were rising from the rivers
+which ran through it and curling in thick wreaths around the opposite
+mountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds, while rain
+poured from the dark sky and added to the melancholy impression I
+received from the objects around me. Alas! Why does man boast of
+sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders
+them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger,
+thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by
+every wind that blows and a chance word or scene that that word may
+convey to us.
+
+  We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.
+     We rise; one wand’ring thought pollutes the day.
+  We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,
+     Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;
+  It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,
+     The path of its departure still is free.
+  Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow;
+     Nought may endure but mutability!
+
+
+It was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent. For some
+time I sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice. A mist covered
+both that and the surrounding mountains. Presently a breeze dissipated
+the cloud, and I descended upon the glacier. The surface is very
+uneven, rising like the waves of a troubled sea, descending low, and
+interspersed by rifts that sink deep. The field of ice is almost a
+league in width, but I spent nearly two hours in crossing it. The
+opposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock. From the side where I
+now stood Montanvert was exactly opposite, at the distance of a league;
+and above it rose Mont Blanc, in awful majesty. I remained in a recess
+of the rock, gazing on this wonderful and stupendous scene. The sea,
+or rather the vast river of ice, wound among its dependent mountains,
+whose aerial summits hung over its recesses. Their icy and glittering
+peaks shone in the sunlight over the clouds. My heart, which was
+before sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy; I exclaimed,
+“Wandering spirits, if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in your narrow
+beds, allow me this faint happiness, or take me, as your companion,
+away from the joys of life.”
+
+As I said this I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance,
+advancing towards me with superhuman speed. He bounded over the
+crevices in the ice, among which I had walked with caution; his
+stature, also, as he approached, seemed to exceed that of man. I was
+troubled; a mist came over my eyes, and I felt a faintness seize me,
+but I was quickly restored by the cold gale of the mountains. I
+perceived, as the shape came nearer (sight tremendous and abhorred!)
+that it was the wretch whom I had created. I trembled with rage and
+horror, resolving to wait his approach and then close with him in
+mortal combat. He approached; his countenance bespoke bitter anguish,
+combined with disdain and malignity, while its unearthly ugliness
+rendered it almost too horrible for human eyes. But I scarcely
+observed this; rage and hatred had at first deprived me of utterance,
+and I recovered only to overwhelm him with words expressive of furious
+detestation and contempt.
+
+“Devil,” I exclaimed, “do you dare approach me? And do
+not you fear the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head?
+Begone, vile insect! Or rather, stay, that I may trample you to dust! And,
+oh! That I could, with the extinction of your miserable existence, restore
+those victims whom you have so diabolically murdered!”
+
+“I expected this reception,” said the dæmon. “All men hate the
+wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all
+living things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature,
+to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of
+one of us. You purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life?
+Do your duty towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of
+mankind. If you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and
+you at peace; but if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until it
+be satiated with the blood of your remaining friends.”
+
+“Abhorred monster! Fiend that thou art! The tortures of hell are too
+mild a vengeance for thy crimes. Wretched devil! You reproach me with
+your creation, come on, then, that I may extinguish the spark which I
+so negligently bestowed.”
+
+My rage was without bounds; I sprang on him, impelled by all the
+feelings which can arm one being against the existence of another.
+
+He easily eluded me and said,
+
+“Be calm! I entreat you to hear me before you give vent to your hatred
+on my devoted head. Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to
+increase my misery? Life, although it may only be an accumulation of
+anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, thou hast made
+me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my
+joints more supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in
+opposition to thee. I am thy creature, and I will be even mild and
+docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part,
+the which thou owest me. Oh, Frankenstein, be not equitable to every
+other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy
+clemency and affection, is most due. Remember that I am thy creature;
+I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou
+drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I
+alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made
+me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.”
+
+“Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no community between you
+and me; we are enemies. Begone, or let us try our strength in a fight,
+in which one must fall.”
+
+“How can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a
+favourable eye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness and
+compassion? Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent; my soul glowed
+with love and humanity; but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my
+creator, abhor me; what hope can I gather from your fellow creatures,
+who owe me nothing? They spurn and hate me. The desert mountains and
+dreary glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days; the
+caves of ice, which I only do not fear, are a dwelling to me, and the
+only one which man does not grudge. These bleak skies I hail, for they
+are kinder to me than your fellow beings. If the multitude of mankind
+knew of my existence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves for
+my destruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keep
+no terms with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my
+wretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompense me, and deliver
+them from an evil which it only remains for you to make so great, that
+not only you and your family, but thousands of others, shall be
+swallowed up in the whirlwinds of its rage. Let your compassion be
+moved, and do not disdain me. Listen to my tale; when you have heard
+that, abandon or commiserate me, as you shall judge that I deserve.
+But hear me. The guilty are allowed, by human laws, bloody as they
+are, to speak in their own defence before they are condemned. Listen
+to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder, and yet you would, with
+a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the
+eternal justice of man! Yet I ask you not to spare me; listen to me,
+and then, if you can, and if you will, destroy the work of your hands.”
+
+“Why do you call to my remembrance,” I rejoined, “circumstances of
+which I shudder to reflect, that I have been the miserable origin and
+author? Cursed be the day, abhorred devil, in which you first saw
+light! Cursed (although I curse myself) be the hands that formed you!
+You have made me wretched beyond expression. You have left me no power
+to consider whether I am just to you or not. Begone! Relieve me from
+the sight of your detested form.”
+
+“Thus I relieve thee, my creator,” he said, and placed his hated hands
+before my eyes, which I flung from me with violence; “thus I take from
+thee a sight which you abhor. Still thou canst listen to me and grant
+me thy compassion. By the virtues that I once possessed, I demand this
+from you. Hear my tale; it is long and strange, and the temperature of
+this place is not fitting to your fine sensations; come to the hut upon
+the mountain. The sun is yet high in the heavens; before it descends
+to hide itself behind your snowy precipices and illuminate another
+world, you will have heard my story and can decide. On you it rests,
+whether I quit for ever the neighbourhood of man and lead a harmless
+life, or become the scourge of your fellow creatures and the author of
+your own speedy ruin.”
+
+As he said this he led the way across the ice; I followed. My heart
+was full, and I did not answer him, but as I proceeded, I weighed the
+various arguments that he had used and determined at least to listen to
+his tale. I was partly urged by curiosity, and compassion confirmed my
+resolution. I had hitherto supposed him to be the murderer of my
+brother, and I eagerly sought a confirmation or denial of this opinion.
+For the first time, also, I felt what the duties of a creator towards
+his creature were, and that I ought to render him happy before I
+complained of his wickedness. These motives urged me to comply with
+his demand. We crossed the ice, therefore, and ascended the opposite
+rock. The air was cold, and the rain again began to descend; we
+entered the hut, the fiend with an air of exultation, I with a heavy
+heart and depressed spirits. But I consented to listen, and seating
+myself by the fire which my odious companion had lighted, he thus began
+his tale.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 11
+
+
+“It is with considerable difficulty that I remember the original era of
+my being; all the events of that period appear confused and indistinct.
+A strange multiplicity of sensations seized me, and I saw, felt, heard,
+and smelt at the same time; and it was, indeed, a long time before I
+learned to distinguish between the operations of my various senses. By
+degrees, I remember, a stronger light pressed upon my nerves, so that I
+was obliged to shut my eyes. Darkness then came over me and troubled
+me, but hardly had I felt this when, by opening my eyes, as I now
+suppose, the light poured in upon me again. I walked and, I believe,
+descended, but I presently found a great alteration in my sensations.
+Before, dark and opaque bodies had surrounded me, impervious to my
+touch or sight; but I now found that I could wander on at liberty, with
+no obstacles which I could not either surmount or avoid. The light
+became more and more oppressive to me, and the heat wearying me as I
+walked, I sought a place where I could receive shade. This was the
+forest near Ingolstadt; and here I lay by the side of a brook resting
+from my fatigue, until I felt tormented by hunger and thirst. This
+roused me from my nearly dormant state, and I ate some berries which I
+found hanging on the trees or lying on the ground. I slaked my thirst
+at the brook, and then lying down, was overcome by sleep.
+
+“It was dark when I awoke; I felt cold also, and half frightened, as it
+were, instinctively, finding myself so desolate. Before I had quitted
+your apartment, on a sensation of cold, I had covered myself with some
+clothes, but these were insufficient to secure me from the dews of
+night. I was a poor, helpless, miserable wretch; I knew, and could
+distinguish, nothing; but feeling pain invade me on all sides, I sat
+down and wept.
+
+“Soon a gentle light stole over the heavens and gave me a sensation of
+pleasure. I started up and beheld a radiant form rise from among the
+trees. [The moon] I gazed with a kind of wonder. It moved slowly,
+but it enlightened my path, and I again went out in search of berries.
+I was still cold when under one of the trees I found a huge cloak, with
+which I covered myself, and sat down upon the ground. No distinct
+ideas occupied my mind; all was confused. I felt light, and hunger,
+and thirst, and darkness; innumerable sounds rang in my ears, and on
+all sides various scents saluted me; the only object that I could
+distinguish was the bright moon, and I fixed my eyes on that with
+pleasure.
+
+“Several changes of day and night passed, and the orb of night had
+greatly lessened, when I began to distinguish my sensations from each
+other. I gradually saw plainly the clear stream that supplied me with
+drink and the trees that shaded me with their foliage. I was delighted
+when I first discovered that a pleasant sound, which often saluted my
+ears, proceeded from the throats of the little winged animals who had
+often intercepted the light from my eyes. I began also to observe,
+with greater accuracy, the forms that surrounded me and to perceive the
+boundaries of the radiant roof of light which canopied me. Sometimes I
+tried to imitate the pleasant songs of the birds but was unable.
+Sometimes I wished to express my sensations in my own mode, but the
+uncouth and inarticulate sounds which broke from me frightened me into
+silence again.
+
+“The moon had disappeared from the night, and again, with a lessened
+form, showed itself, while I still remained in the forest. My
+sensations had by this time become distinct, and my mind received every
+day additional ideas. My eyes became accustomed to the light and to
+perceive objects in their right forms; I distinguished the insect from
+the herb, and by degrees, one herb from another. I found that the
+sparrow uttered none but harsh notes, whilst those of the blackbird and
+thrush were sweet and enticing.
+
+“One day, when I was oppressed by cold, I found a fire which had been
+left by some wandering beggars, and was overcome with delight at the
+warmth I experienced from it. In my joy I thrust my hand into the live
+embers, but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain. How strange,
+I thought, that the same cause should produce such opposite effects! I
+examined the materials of the fire, and to my joy found it to be
+composed of wood. I quickly collected some branches, but they were wet
+and would not burn. I was pained at this and sat still watching the
+operation of the fire. The wet wood which I had placed near the heat
+dried and itself became inflamed. I reflected on this, and by touching
+the various branches, I discovered the cause and busied myself in
+collecting a great quantity of wood, that I might dry it and have a
+plentiful supply of fire. When night came on and brought sleep with
+it, I was in the greatest fear lest my fire should be extinguished. I
+covered it carefully with dry wood and leaves and placed wet branches
+upon it; and then, spreading my cloak, I lay on the ground and sank
+into sleep.
+
+“It was morning when I awoke, and my first care was to visit the fire.
+I uncovered it, and a gentle breeze quickly fanned it into a flame. I
+observed this also and contrived a fan of branches, which roused the
+embers when they were nearly extinguished. When night came again I
+found, with pleasure, that the fire gave light as well as heat and that
+the discovery of this element was useful to me in my food, for I found
+some of the offals that the travellers had left had been roasted, and
+tasted much more savoury than the berries I gathered from the trees. I
+tried, therefore, to dress my food in the same manner, placing it on
+the live embers. I found that the berries were spoiled by this
+operation, and the nuts and roots much improved.
+
+“Food, however, became scarce, and I often spent the whole day
+searching in vain for a few acorns to assuage the pangs of hunger. When
+I found this, I resolved to quit the place that I had hitherto
+inhabited, to seek for one where the few wants I experienced would be
+more easily satisfied. In this emigration I exceedingly lamented the
+loss of the fire which I had obtained through accident and knew not how
+to reproduce it. I gave several hours to the serious consideration of
+this difficulty, but I was obliged to relinquish all attempt to supply
+it, and wrapping myself up in my cloak, I struck across the wood
+towards the setting sun. I passed three days in these rambles and at
+length discovered the open country. A great fall of snow had taken
+place the night before, and the fields were of one uniform white; the
+appearance was disconsolate, and I found my feet chilled by the cold
+damp substance that covered the ground.
+
+“It was about seven in the morning, and I longed to obtain food and
+shelter; at length I perceived a small hut, on a rising ground, which
+had doubtless been built for the convenience of some shepherd. This
+was a new sight to me, and I examined the structure with great
+curiosity. Finding the door open, I entered. An old man sat in it,
+near a fire, over which he was preparing his breakfast. He turned on
+hearing a noise, and perceiving me, shrieked loudly, and quitting the
+hut, ran across the fields with a speed of which his debilitated form
+hardly appeared capable. His appearance, different from any I had ever
+before seen, and his flight somewhat surprised me. But I was enchanted
+by the appearance of the hut; here the snow and rain could not
+penetrate; the ground was dry; and it presented to me then as exquisite
+and divine a retreat as Pandæmonium appeared to the dæmons of hell
+after their sufferings in the lake of fire. I greedily devoured the
+remnants of the shepherd’s breakfast, which consisted of bread, cheese,
+milk, and wine; the latter, however, I did not like. Then, overcome by
+fatigue, I lay down among some straw and fell asleep.
+
+“It was noon when I awoke, and allured by the warmth of the sun, which
+shone brightly on the white ground, I determined to recommence my
+travels; and, depositing the remains of the peasant’s breakfast in a
+wallet I found, I proceeded across the fields for several hours, until
+at sunset I arrived at a village. How miraculous did this appear! The
+huts, the neater cottages, and stately houses engaged my admiration by
+turns. The vegetables in the gardens, the milk and cheese that I saw
+placed at the windows of some of the cottages, allured my appetite. One
+of the best of these I entered, but I had hardly placed my foot within
+the door before the children shrieked, and one of the women fainted.
+The whole village was roused; some fled, some attacked me, until,
+grievously bruised by stones and many other kinds of missile weapons, I
+escaped to the open country and fearfully took refuge in a low hovel,
+quite bare, and making a wretched appearance after the palaces I had
+beheld in the village. This hovel however, joined a cottage of a neat
+and pleasant appearance, but after my late dearly bought experience, I
+dared not enter it. My place of refuge was constructed of wood, but so
+low that I could with difficulty sit upright in it. No wood, however,
+was placed on the earth, which formed the floor, but it was dry; and
+although the wind entered it by innumerable chinks, I found it an
+agreeable asylum from the snow and rain.
+
+“Here, then, I retreated and lay down happy to have found a shelter,
+however miserable, from the inclemency of the season, and still more
+from the barbarity of man. As soon as morning dawned I crept from my
+kennel, that I might view the adjacent cottage and discover if I could
+remain in the habitation I had found. It was situated against the back
+of the cottage and surrounded on the sides which were exposed by a pig
+sty and a clear pool of water. One part was open, and by that I had
+crept in; but now I covered every crevice by which I might be perceived
+with stones and wood, yet in such a manner that I might move them on
+occasion to pass out; all the light I enjoyed came through the sty, and
+that was sufficient for me.
+
+“Having thus arranged my dwelling and carpeted it with clean straw, I
+retired, for I saw the figure of a man at a distance, and I remembered
+too well my treatment the night before to trust myself in his power. I
+had first, however, provided for my sustenance for that day by a loaf
+of coarse bread, which I purloined, and a cup with which I could drink
+more conveniently than from my hand of the pure water which flowed by
+my retreat. The floor was a little raised, so that it was kept
+perfectly dry, and by its vicinity to the chimney of the cottage it was
+tolerably warm.
+
+“Being thus provided, I resolved to reside in this hovel until
+something should occur which might alter my determination. It was
+indeed a paradise compared to the bleak forest, my former residence,
+the rain-dropping branches, and dank earth. I ate my breakfast with
+pleasure and was about to remove a plank to procure myself a little
+water when I heard a step, and looking through a small chink, I beheld
+a young creature, with a pail on her head, passing before my hovel. The
+girl was young and of gentle demeanour, unlike what I have since found
+cottagers and farmhouse servants to be. Yet she was meanly dressed, a
+coarse blue petticoat and a linen jacket being her only garb; her fair
+hair was plaited but not adorned: she looked patient yet sad. I lost
+sight of her, and in about a quarter of an hour she returned bearing
+the pail, which was now partly filled with milk. As she walked along,
+seemingly incommoded by the burden, a young man met her, whose
+countenance expressed a deeper despondence. Uttering a few sounds with
+an air of melancholy, he took the pail from her head and bore it to the
+cottage himself. She followed, and they disappeared. Presently I saw
+the young man again, with some tools in his hand, cross the field
+behind the cottage; and the girl was also busied, sometimes in the
+house and sometimes in the yard.
+
+“On examining my dwelling, I found that one of the windows of the
+cottage had formerly occupied a part of it, but the panes had been
+filled up with wood. In one of these was a small and almost
+imperceptible chink through which the eye could just penetrate.
+Through this crevice a small room was visible, whitewashed and clean
+but very bare of furniture. In one corner, near a small fire, sat an
+old man, leaning his head on his hands in a disconsolate attitude. The
+young girl was occupied in arranging the cottage; but presently she
+took something out of a drawer, which employed her hands, and she sat
+down beside the old man, who, taking up an instrument, began to play
+and to produce sounds sweeter than the voice of the thrush or the
+nightingale. It was a lovely sight, even to me, poor wretch who had
+never beheld aught beautiful before. The silver hair and benevolent
+countenance of the aged cottager won my reverence, while the gentle
+manners of the girl enticed my love. He played a sweet mournful air
+which I perceived drew tears from the eyes of his amiable companion, of
+which the old man took no notice, until she sobbed audibly; he then
+pronounced a few sounds, and the fair creature, leaving her work, knelt
+at his feet. He raised her and smiled with such kindness and affection
+that I felt sensations of a peculiar and overpowering nature; they were
+a mixture of pain and pleasure, such as I had never before experienced,
+either from hunger or cold, warmth or food; and I withdrew from the
+window, unable to bear these emotions.
+
+“Soon after this the young man returned, bearing on his shoulders a
+load of wood. The girl met him at the door, helped to relieve him of
+his burden, and taking some of the fuel into the cottage, placed it on
+the fire; then she and the youth went apart into a nook of the cottage,
+and he showed her a large loaf and a piece of cheese. She seemed
+pleased and went into the garden for some roots and plants, which she
+placed in water, and then upon the fire. She afterwards continued her
+work, whilst the young man went into the garden and appeared busily
+employed in digging and pulling up roots. After he had been employed
+thus about an hour, the young woman joined him and they entered the
+cottage together.
+
+“The old man had, in the meantime, been pensive, but on the appearance
+of his companions he assumed a more cheerful air, and they sat down to
+eat. The meal was quickly dispatched. The young woman was again
+occupied in arranging the cottage, the old man walked before the
+cottage in the sun for a few minutes, leaning on the arm of the youth.
+Nothing could exceed in beauty the contrast between these two excellent
+creatures. One was old, with silver hairs and a countenance beaming
+with benevolence and love; the younger was slight and graceful in his
+figure, and his features were moulded with the finest symmetry, yet his
+eyes and attitude expressed the utmost sadness and despondency. The
+old man returned to the cottage, and the youth, with tools different
+from those he had used in the morning, directed his steps across the
+fields.
+
+“Night quickly shut in, but to my extreme wonder, I found that the
+cottagers had a means of prolonging light by the use of tapers, and was
+delighted to find that the setting of the sun did not put an end to the
+pleasure I experienced in watching my human neighbours. In the evening
+the young girl and her companion were employed in various occupations
+which I did not understand; and the old man again took up the
+instrument which produced the divine sounds that had enchanted me in
+the morning. So soon as he had finished, the youth began, not to play,
+but to utter sounds that were monotonous, and neither resembling the
+harmony of the old man’s instrument nor the songs of the birds; I since
+found that he read aloud, but at that time I knew nothing of the
+science of words or letters.
+
+“The family, after having been thus occupied for a short time,
+extinguished their lights and retired, as I conjectured, to rest.”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 12
+
+
+“I lay on my straw, but I could not sleep. I thought of the
+occurrences of the day. What chiefly struck me was the gentle manners
+of these people, and I longed to join them, but dared not. I
+remembered too well the treatment I had suffered the night before from
+the barbarous villagers, and resolved, whatever course of conduct I
+might hereafter think it right to pursue, that for the present I would
+remain quietly in my hovel, watching and endeavouring to discover the
+motives which influenced their actions.
+
+“The cottagers arose the next morning before the sun. The young woman
+arranged the cottage and prepared the food, and the youth departed
+after the first meal.
+
+“This day was passed in the same routine as that which preceded it.
+The young man was constantly employed out of doors, and the girl in
+various laborious occupations within. The old man, whom I soon
+perceived to be blind, employed his leisure hours on his instrument or
+in contemplation. Nothing could exceed the love and respect which the
+younger cottagers exhibited towards their venerable companion. They
+performed towards him every little office of affection and duty with
+gentleness, and he rewarded them by his benevolent smiles.
+
+“They were not entirely happy. The young man and his companion often
+went apart and appeared to weep. I saw no cause for their unhappiness,
+but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures were
+miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being,
+should be wretched. Yet why were these gentle beings unhappy? They
+possessed a delightful house (for such it was in my eyes) and every
+luxury; they had a fire to warm them when chill and delicious viands
+when hungry; they were dressed in excellent clothes; and, still more,
+they enjoyed one another’s company and speech, interchanging each day
+looks of affection and kindness. What did their tears imply? Did they
+really express pain? I was at first unable to solve these questions,
+but perpetual attention and time explained to me many appearances which
+were at first enigmatic.
+
+“A considerable period elapsed before I discovered one of the causes of
+the uneasiness of this amiable family: it was poverty, and they
+suffered that evil in a very distressing degree. Their nourishment
+consisted entirely of the vegetables of their garden and the milk of
+one cow, which gave very little during the winter, when its masters
+could scarcely procure food to support it. They often, I believe,
+suffered the pangs of hunger very poignantly, especially the two
+younger cottagers, for several times they placed food before the old
+man when they reserved none for themselves.
+
+“This trait of kindness moved me sensibly. I had been accustomed,
+during the night, to steal a part of their store for my own
+consumption, but when I found that in doing this I inflicted pain on
+the cottagers, I abstained and satisfied myself with berries, nuts, and
+roots which I gathered from a neighbouring wood.
+
+“I discovered also another means through which I was enabled to assist
+their labours. I found that the youth spent a great part of each day
+in collecting wood for the family fire, and during the night I often
+took his tools, the use of which I quickly discovered, and brought home
+firing sufficient for the consumption of several days.
+
+“I remember, the first time that I did this, the young woman, when she
+opened the door in the morning, appeared greatly astonished on seeing a great
+pile of wood on the outside. She uttered some words in a loud voice, and the
+youth joined her, who also expressed surprise. I observed, with pleasure,
+that he did not go to the forest that day, but spent it in repairing the
+cottage and cultivating the garden.
+
+“By degrees I made a discovery of still greater moment. I found that
+these people possessed a method of communicating their experience and
+feelings to one another by articulate sounds. I perceived that the words
+they spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or sadness, in the
+minds and countenances of the hearers. This was indeed a godlike science,
+and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it. But I was baffled in
+every attempt I made for this purpose. Their pronunciation was quick, and
+the words they uttered, not having any apparent connection with visible
+objects, I was unable to discover any clue by which I could unravel the
+mystery of their reference. By great application, however, and after having
+remained during the space of several revolutions of the moon in my hovel, I
+discovered the names that were given to some of the most familiar objects of
+discourse; I learned and applied the words, _fire, milk, bread,_ and
+_wood._ I learned also the names of the cottagers themselves. The youth
+and his companion had each of them several names, but the old man had only
+one, which was _father._ The girl was called _sister_ or
+_Agatha,_ and the youth _Felix, brother,_ or _son_. I cannot
+describe the delight I felt when I learned the ideas appropriated to each of
+these sounds and was able to pronounce them. I distinguished several other
+words without being able as yet to understand or apply them, such as _good,
+dearest, unhappy._
+
+“I spent the winter in this manner. The gentle manners and beauty of
+the cottagers greatly endeared them to me; when they were unhappy, I
+felt depressed; when they rejoiced, I sympathised in their joys. I saw
+few human beings besides them, and if any other happened to enter the
+cottage, their harsh manners and rude gait only enhanced to me the
+superior accomplishments of my friends. The old man, I could perceive,
+often endeavoured to encourage his children, as sometimes I found that
+he called them, to cast off their melancholy. He would talk in a
+cheerful accent, with an expression of goodness that bestowed pleasure
+even upon me. Agatha listened with respect, her eyes sometimes filled
+with tears, which she endeavoured to wipe away unperceived; but I
+generally found that her countenance and tone were more cheerful after
+having listened to the exhortations of her father. It was not thus
+with Felix. He was always the saddest of the group, and even to my
+unpractised senses, he appeared to have suffered more deeply than his
+friends. But if his countenance was more sorrowful, his voice was more
+cheerful than that of his sister, especially when he addressed the old
+man.
+
+“I could mention innumerable instances which, although slight, marked
+the dispositions of these amiable cottagers. In the midst of poverty
+and want, Felix carried with pleasure to his sister the first little
+white flower that peeped out from beneath the snowy ground. Early in
+the morning, before she had risen, he cleared away the snow that
+obstructed her path to the milk-house, drew water from the well, and
+brought the wood from the outhouse, where, to his perpetual
+astonishment, he found his store always replenished by an invisible
+hand. In the day, I believe, he worked sometimes for a neighbouring
+farmer, because he often went forth and did not return until dinner,
+yet brought no wood with him. At other times he worked in the garden,
+but as there was little to do in the frosty season, he read to the old
+man and Agatha.
+
+“This reading had puzzled me extremely at first, but by degrees I
+discovered that he uttered many of the same sounds when he read as when
+he talked. I conjectured, therefore, that he found on the paper signs
+for speech which he understood, and I ardently longed to comprehend
+these also; but how was that possible when I did not even understand
+the sounds for which they stood as signs? I improved, however,
+sensibly in this science, but not sufficiently to follow up any kind of
+conversation, although I applied my whole mind to the endeavour, for I
+easily perceived that, although I eagerly longed to discover myself to
+the cottagers, I ought not to make the attempt until I had first become
+master of their language, which knowledge might enable me to make them
+overlook the deformity of my figure, for with this also the contrast
+perpetually presented to my eyes had made me acquainted.
+
+“I had admired the perfect forms of my cottagers—their grace, beauty,
+and delicate complexions; but how was I terrified when I viewed myself
+in a transparent pool! At first I started back, unable to believe that
+it was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror; and when I became
+fully convinced that I was in reality the monster that I am, I was
+filled with the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification.
+Alas! I did not yet entirely know the fatal effects of this miserable
+deformity.
+
+“As the sun became warmer and the light of day longer, the snow
+vanished, and I beheld the bare trees and the black earth. From this
+time Felix was more employed, and the heart-moving indications of
+impending famine disappeared. Their food, as I afterwards found, was
+coarse, but it was wholesome; and they procured a sufficiency of it.
+Several new kinds of plants sprang up in the garden, which they
+dressed; and these signs of comfort increased daily as the season
+advanced.
+
+“The old man, leaning on his son, walked each day at noon, when it did
+not rain, as I found it was called when the heavens poured forth its
+waters. This frequently took place, but a high wind quickly dried the
+earth, and the season became far more pleasant than it had been.
+
+“My mode of life in my hovel was uniform. During the morning I
+attended the motions of the cottagers, and when they were dispersed in
+various occupations, I slept; the remainder of the day was spent in
+observing my friends. When they had retired to rest, if there was any
+moon or the night was star-light, I went into the woods and collected
+my own food and fuel for the cottage. When I returned, as often as it
+was necessary, I cleared their path from the snow and performed those
+offices that I had seen done by Felix. I afterwards found that these
+labours, performed by an invisible hand, greatly astonished them; and
+once or twice I heard them, on these occasions, utter the words _good
+spirit, wonderful_; but I did not then understand the signification
+of these terms.
+
+“My thoughts now became more active, and I longed to discover the
+motives and feelings of these lovely creatures; I was inquisitive to
+know why Felix appeared so miserable and Agatha so sad. I thought
+(foolish wretch!) that it might be in my power to restore happiness to
+these deserving people. When I slept or was absent, the forms of the
+venerable blind father, the gentle Agatha, and the excellent Felix
+flitted before me. I looked upon them as superior beings who would be
+the arbiters of my future destiny. I formed in my imagination a
+thousand pictures of presenting myself to them, and their reception of
+me. I imagined that they would be disgusted, until, by my gentle
+demeanour and conciliating words, I should first win their favour and
+afterwards their love.
+
+“These thoughts exhilarated me and led me to apply with fresh ardour to
+the acquiring the art of language. My organs were indeed harsh, but
+supple; and although my voice was very unlike the soft music of their
+tones, yet I pronounced such words as I understood with tolerable ease.
+It was as the ass and the lap-dog; yet surely the gentle ass whose
+intentions were affectionate, although his manners were rude, deserved
+better treatment than blows and execration.
+
+“The pleasant showers and genial warmth of spring greatly altered the
+aspect of the earth. Men who before this change seemed to have been
+hid in caves dispersed themselves and were employed in various arts of
+cultivation. The birds sang in more cheerful notes, and the leaves
+began to bud forth on the trees. Happy, happy earth! Fit habitation
+for gods, which, so short a time before, was bleak, damp, and
+unwholesome. My spirits were elevated by the enchanting appearance of
+nature; the past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil,
+and the future gilded by bright rays of hope and anticipations of joy.”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 13
+
+
+“I now hasten to the more moving part of my story. I shall relate
+events that impressed me with feelings which, from what I had been,
+have made me what I am.
+
+“Spring advanced rapidly; the weather became fine and the skies
+cloudless. It surprised me that what before was desert and gloomy
+should now bloom with the most beautiful flowers and verdure. My
+senses were gratified and refreshed by a thousand scents of delight and
+a thousand sights of beauty.
+
+“It was on one of these days, when my cottagers periodically rested
+from labour—the old man played on his guitar, and the children
+listened to him—that I observed the countenance of Felix was
+melancholy beyond expression; he sighed frequently, and once his father
+paused in his music, and I conjectured by his manner that he inquired
+the cause of his son’s sorrow. Felix replied in a cheerful accent, and
+the old man was recommencing his music when someone tapped at the door.
+
+“It was a lady on horseback, accompanied by a country-man as a guide.
+The lady was dressed in a dark suit and covered with a thick black
+veil. Agatha asked a question, to which the stranger only replied by
+pronouncing, in a sweet accent, the name of Felix. Her voice was
+musical but unlike that of either of my friends. On hearing this word,
+Felix came up hastily to the lady, who, when she saw him, threw up her
+veil, and I beheld a countenance of angelic beauty and expression. Her
+hair of a shining raven black, and curiously braided; her eyes were
+dark, but gentle, although animated; her features of a regular
+proportion, and her complexion wondrously fair, each cheek tinged with
+a lovely pink.
+
+“Felix seemed ravished with delight when he saw her, every trait of
+sorrow vanished from his face, and it instantly expressed a degree of
+ecstatic joy, of which I could hardly have believed it capable; his
+eyes sparkled, as his cheek flushed with pleasure; and at that moment I
+thought him as beautiful as the stranger. She appeared affected by
+different feelings; wiping a few tears from her lovely eyes, she held
+out her hand to Felix, who kissed it rapturously and called her, as
+well as I could distinguish, his sweet Arabian. She did not appear to
+understand him, but smiled. He assisted her to dismount, and
+dismissing her guide, conducted her into the cottage. Some
+conversation took place between him and his father, and the young
+stranger knelt at the old man’s feet and would have kissed his hand,
+but he raised her and embraced her affectionately.
+
+“I soon perceived that although the stranger uttered articulate sounds
+and appeared to have a language of her own, she was neither understood
+by nor herself understood the cottagers. They made many signs which I
+did not comprehend, but I saw that her presence diffused gladness
+through the cottage, dispelling their sorrow as the sun dissipates the
+morning mists. Felix seemed peculiarly happy and with smiles of
+delight welcomed his Arabian. Agatha, the ever-gentle Agatha, kissed
+the hands of the lovely stranger, and pointing to her brother, made
+signs which appeared to me to mean that he had been sorrowful until she
+came. Some hours passed thus, while they, by their countenances,
+expressed joy, the cause of which I did not comprehend. Presently I
+found, by the frequent recurrence of some sound which the stranger
+repeated after them, that she was endeavouring to learn their language;
+and the idea instantly occurred to me that I should make use of the
+same instructions to the same end. The stranger learned about twenty
+words at the first lesson; most of them, indeed, were those which I had
+before understood, but I profited by the others.
+
+“As night came on, Agatha and the Arabian retired early. When they
+separated Felix kissed the hand of the stranger and said, ‘Good night
+sweet Safie.’ He sat up much longer, conversing with his father, and
+by the frequent repetition of her name I conjectured that their lovely
+guest was the subject of their conversation. I ardently desired to
+understand them, and bent every faculty towards that purpose, but found
+it utterly impossible.
+
+“The next morning Felix went out to his work, and after the usual
+occupations of Agatha were finished, the Arabian sat at the feet of the
+old man, and taking his guitar, played some airs so entrancingly
+beautiful that they at once drew tears of sorrow and delight from my
+eyes. She sang, and her voice flowed in a rich cadence, swelling or
+dying away like a nightingale of the woods.
+
+“When she had finished, she gave the guitar to Agatha, who at first
+declined it. She played a simple air, and her voice accompanied it in
+sweet accents, but unlike the wondrous strain of the stranger. The old
+man appeared enraptured and said some words which Agatha endeavoured to
+explain to Safie, and by which he appeared to wish to express that she
+bestowed on him the greatest delight by her music.
+
+“The days now passed as peaceably as before, with the sole alteration
+that joy had taken place of sadness in the countenances of my friends.
+Safie was always gay and happy; she and I improved rapidly in the
+knowledge of language, so that in two months I began to comprehend most
+of the words uttered by my protectors.
+
+“In the meanwhile also the black ground was covered with herbage, and
+the green banks interspersed with innumerable flowers, sweet to the
+scent and the eyes, stars of pale radiance among the moonlight woods;
+the sun became warmer, the nights clear and balmy; and my nocturnal
+rambles were an extreme pleasure to me, although they were considerably
+shortened by the late setting and early rising of the sun, for I never
+ventured abroad during daylight, fearful of meeting with the same
+treatment I had formerly endured in the first village which I entered.
+
+“My days were spent in close attention, that I might more speedily
+master the language; and I may boast that I improved more rapidly than
+the Arabian, who understood very little and conversed in broken
+accents, whilst I comprehended and could imitate almost every word that
+was spoken.
+
+“While I improved in speech, I also learned the science of letters as
+it was taught to the stranger, and this opened before me a wide field
+for wonder and delight.
+
+“The book from which Felix instructed Safie was Volney’s _Ruins
+of Empires_. I should not have understood the purport of this book had not
+Felix, in reading it, given very minute explanations. He had chosen this
+work, he said, because the declamatory style was framed in imitation of the
+Eastern authors. Through this work I obtained a cursory knowledge of history
+and a view of the several empires at present existing in the world; it gave
+me an insight into the manners, governments, and religions of the different
+nations of the earth. I heard of the slothful Asiatics, of the stupendous
+genius and mental activity of the Grecians, of the wars and wonderful virtue
+of the early Romans—of their subsequent degenerating—of the
+decline of that mighty empire, of chivalry, Christianity, and kings. I heard
+of the discovery of the American hemisphere and wept with Safie over the
+hapless fate of its original inhabitants.
+
+“These wonderful narrations inspired me with strange feelings. Was
+man, indeed, at once so powerful, so virtuous and magnificent, yet so
+vicious and base? He appeared at one time a mere scion of the evil
+principle and at another as all that can be conceived of noble and
+godlike. To be a great and virtuous man appeared the highest honour
+that can befall a sensitive being; to be base and vicious, as many on
+record have been, appeared the lowest degradation, a condition more
+abject than that of the blind mole or harmless worm. For a long time I
+could not conceive how one man could go forth to murder his fellow, or
+even why there were laws and governments; but when I heard details of
+vice and bloodshed, my wonder ceased and I turned away with disgust and
+loathing.
+
+“Every conversation of the cottagers now opened new wonders to me.
+While I listened to the instructions which Felix bestowed upon the
+Arabian, the strange system of human society was explained to me. I
+heard of the division of property, of immense wealth and squalid
+poverty, of rank, descent, and noble blood.
+
+“The words induced me to turn towards myself. I learned that the
+possessions most esteemed by your fellow creatures were high and
+unsullied descent united with riches. A man might be respected with
+only one of these advantages, but without either he was considered,
+except in very rare instances, as a vagabond and a slave, doomed to
+waste his powers for the profits of the chosen few! And what was I? Of
+my creation and creator I was absolutely ignorant, but I knew that I
+possessed no money, no friends, no kind of property. I was, besides,
+endued with a figure hideously deformed and loathsome; I was not even
+of the same nature as man. I was more agile than they and could
+subsist upon coarser diet; I bore the extremes of heat and cold with
+less injury to my frame; my stature far exceeded theirs. When I looked
+around I saw and heard of none like me. Was I, then, a monster, a blot
+upon the earth, from which all men fled and whom all men disowned?
+
+“I cannot describe to you the agony that these reflections inflicted
+upon me; I tried to dispel them, but sorrow only increased with
+knowledge. Oh, that I had for ever remained in my native wood, nor
+known nor felt beyond the sensations of hunger, thirst, and heat!
+
+“Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to the mind when it
+has once seized on it like a lichen on the rock. I wished sometimes to
+shake off all thought and feeling, but I learned that there was but one
+means to overcome the sensation of pain, and that was death—a state
+which I feared yet did not understand. I admired virtue and good
+feelings and loved the gentle manners and amiable qualities of my
+cottagers, but I was shut out from intercourse with them, except
+through means which I obtained by stealth, when I was unseen and
+unknown, and which rather increased than satisfied the desire I had of
+becoming one among my fellows. The gentle words of Agatha and the
+animated smiles of the charming Arabian were not for me. The mild
+exhortations of the old man and the lively conversation of the loved
+Felix were not for me. Miserable, unhappy wretch!
+
+“Other lessons were impressed upon me even more deeply. I heard of the
+difference of sexes, and the birth and growth of children, how the
+father doted on the smiles of the infant, and the lively sallies of the
+older child, how all the life and cares of the mother were wrapped up
+in the precious charge, how the mind of youth expanded and gained
+knowledge, of brother, sister, and all the various relationships which
+bind one human being to another in mutual bonds.
+
+“But where were my friends and relations? No father had watched my
+infant days, no mother had blessed me with smiles and caresses; or if
+they had, all my past life was now a blot, a blind vacancy in which I
+distinguished nothing. From my earliest remembrance I had been as I
+then was in height and proportion. I had never yet seen a being
+resembling me or who claimed any intercourse with me. What was I? The
+question again recurred, to be answered only with groans.
+
+“I will soon explain to what these feelings tended, but allow me now to
+return to the cottagers, whose story excited in me such various
+feelings of indignation, delight, and wonder, but which all terminated
+in additional love and reverence for my protectors (for so I loved, in
+an innocent, half-painful self-deceit, to call them).”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 14
+
+
+“Some time elapsed before I learned the history of my friends. It was
+one which could not fail to impress itself deeply on my mind, unfolding
+as it did a number of circumstances, each interesting and wonderful to
+one so utterly inexperienced as I was.
+
+“The name of the old man was De Lacey. He was descended from a good
+family in France, where he had lived for many years in affluence,
+respected by his superiors and beloved by his equals. His son was bred
+in the service of his country, and Agatha had ranked with ladies of the
+highest distinction. A few months before my arrival they had lived in
+a large and luxurious city called Paris, surrounded by friends and
+possessed of every enjoyment which virtue, refinement of intellect, or
+taste, accompanied by a moderate fortune, could afford.
+
+“The father of Safie had been the cause of their ruin. He was a
+Turkish merchant and had inhabited Paris for many years, when, for some
+reason which I could not learn, he became obnoxious to the government.
+He was seized and cast into prison the very day that Safie arrived from
+Constantinople to join him. He was tried and condemned to death. The
+injustice of his sentence was very flagrant; all Paris was indignant;
+and it was judged that his religion and wealth rather than the crime
+alleged against him had been the cause of his condemnation.
+
+“Felix had accidentally been present at the trial; his horror and
+indignation were uncontrollable when he heard the decision of the
+court. He made, at that moment, a solemn vow to deliver him and then
+looked around for the means. After many fruitless attempts to gain
+admittance to the prison, he found a strongly grated window in an
+unguarded part of the building, which lighted the dungeon of the
+unfortunate Muhammadan, who, loaded with chains, waited in despair the
+execution of the barbarous sentence. Felix visited the grate at night
+and made known to the prisoner his intentions in his favour. The Turk,
+amazed and delighted, endeavoured to kindle the zeal of his deliverer
+by promises of reward and wealth. Felix rejected his offers with
+contempt, yet when he saw the lovely Safie, who was allowed to visit
+her father and who by her gestures expressed her lively gratitude, the
+youth could not help owning to his own mind that the captive possessed
+a treasure which would fully reward his toil and hazard.
+
+“The Turk quickly perceived the impression that his daughter had made
+on the heart of Felix and endeavoured to secure him more entirely in
+his interests by the promise of her hand in marriage so soon as he
+should be conveyed to a place of safety. Felix was too delicate to
+accept this offer, yet he looked forward to the probability of the
+event as to the consummation of his happiness.
+
+“During the ensuing days, while the preparations were going forward for
+the escape of the merchant, the zeal of Felix was warmed by several
+letters that he received from this lovely girl, who found means to
+express her thoughts in the language of her lover by the aid of an old
+man, a servant of her father who understood French. She thanked him in
+the most ardent terms for his intended services towards her parent, and
+at the same time she gently deplored her own fate.
+
+“I have copies of these letters, for I found means, during my residence
+in the hovel, to procure the implements of writing; and the letters
+were often in the hands of Felix or Agatha. Before I depart I will
+give them to you; they will prove the truth of my tale; but at present,
+as the sun is already far declined, I shall only have time to repeat
+the substance of them to you.
+
+“Safie related that her mother was a Christian Arab, seized and made a
+slave by the Turks; recommended by her beauty, she had won the heart of
+the father of Safie, who married her. The young girl spoke in high and
+enthusiastic terms of her mother, who, born in freedom, spurned the
+bondage to which she was now reduced. She instructed her daughter in
+the tenets of her religion and taught her to aspire to higher powers of
+intellect and an independence of spirit forbidden to the female
+followers of Muhammad. This lady died, but her lessons were indelibly
+impressed on the mind of Safie, who sickened at the prospect of again
+returning to Asia and being immured within the walls of a harem,
+allowed only to occupy herself with infantile amusements, ill-suited to
+the temper of her soul, now accustomed to grand ideas and a noble
+emulation for virtue. The prospect of marrying a Christian and
+remaining in a country where women were allowed to take a rank in
+society was enchanting to her.
+
+“The day for the execution of the Turk was fixed, but on the night
+previous to it he quitted his prison and before morning was distant
+many leagues from Paris. Felix had procured passports in the name of
+his father, sister, and himself. He had previously communicated his
+plan to the former, who aided the deceit by quitting his house, under
+the pretence of a journey and concealed himself, with his daughter, in
+an obscure part of Paris.
+
+“Felix conducted the fugitives through France to Lyons and across Mont
+Cenis to Leghorn, where the merchant had decided to wait a favourable
+opportunity of passing into some part of the Turkish dominions.
+
+“Safie resolved to remain with her father until the moment of his
+departure, before which time the Turk renewed his promise that she
+should be united to his deliverer; and Felix remained with them in
+expectation of that event; and in the meantime he enjoyed the society
+of the Arabian, who exhibited towards him the simplest and tenderest
+affection. They conversed with one another through the means of an
+interpreter, and sometimes with the interpretation of looks; and Safie
+sang to him the divine airs of her native country.
+
+“The Turk allowed this intimacy to take place and encouraged the hopes
+of the youthful lovers, while in his heart he had formed far other
+plans. He loathed the idea that his daughter should be united to a
+Christian, but he feared the resentment of Felix if he should appear
+lukewarm, for he knew that he was still in the power of his deliverer
+if he should choose to betray him to the Italian state which they
+inhabited. He revolved a thousand plans by which he should be enabled
+to prolong the deceit until it might be no longer necessary, and
+secretly to take his daughter with him when he departed. His plans
+were facilitated by the news which arrived from Paris.
+
+“The government of France were greatly enraged at the escape of their
+victim and spared no pains to detect and punish his deliverer. The
+plot of Felix was quickly discovered, and De Lacey and Agatha were
+thrown into prison. The news reached Felix and roused him from his
+dream of pleasure. His blind and aged father and his gentle sister lay
+in a noisome dungeon while he enjoyed the free air and the society of
+her whom he loved. This idea was torture to him. He quickly arranged
+with the Turk that if the latter should find a favourable opportunity
+for escape before Felix could return to Italy, Safie should remain as a
+boarder at a convent at Leghorn; and then, quitting the lovely Arabian,
+he hastened to Paris and delivered himself up to the vengeance of the
+law, hoping to free De Lacey and Agatha by this proceeding.
+
+“He did not succeed. They remained confined for five months before the
+trial took place, the result of which deprived them of their fortune
+and condemned them to a perpetual exile from their native country.
+
+“They found a miserable asylum in the cottage in Germany, where I
+discovered them. Felix soon learned that the treacherous Turk, for
+whom he and his family endured such unheard-of oppression, on
+discovering that his deliverer was thus reduced to poverty and ruin,
+became a traitor to good feeling and honour and had quitted Italy with
+his daughter, insultingly sending Felix a pittance of money to aid him,
+as he said, in some plan of future maintenance.
+
+“Such were the events that preyed on the heart of Felix and rendered
+him, when I first saw him, the most miserable of his family. He could
+have endured poverty, and while this distress had been the meed of his
+virtue, he gloried in it; but the ingratitude of the Turk and the loss
+of his beloved Safie were misfortunes more bitter and irreparable. The
+arrival of the Arabian now infused new life into his soul.
+
+“When the news reached Leghorn that Felix was deprived of his wealth
+and rank, the merchant commanded his daughter to think no more of her
+lover, but to prepare to return to her native country. The generous
+nature of Safie was outraged by this command; she attempted to
+expostulate with her father, but he left her angrily, reiterating his
+tyrannical mandate.
+
+“A few days after, the Turk entered his daughter’s apartment and told
+her hastily that he had reason to believe that his residence at Leghorn
+had been divulged and that he should speedily be delivered up to the
+French government; he had consequently hired a vessel to convey him to
+Constantinople, for which city he should sail in a few hours. He
+intended to leave his daughter under the care of a confidential
+servant, to follow at her leisure with the greater part of his
+property, which had not yet arrived at Leghorn.
+
+“When alone, Safie resolved in her own mind the plan of conduct that it
+would become her to pursue in this emergency. A residence in Turkey
+was abhorrent to her; her religion and her feelings were alike averse
+to it. By some papers of her father which fell into her hands she
+heard of the exile of her lover and learnt the name of the spot where
+he then resided. She hesitated some time, but at length she formed her
+determination. Taking with her some jewels that belonged to her and a
+sum of money, she quitted Italy with an attendant, a native of Leghorn,
+but who understood the common language of Turkey, and departed for
+Germany.
+
+“She arrived in safety at a town about twenty leagues from the cottage
+of De Lacey, when her attendant fell dangerously ill. Safie nursed her
+with the most devoted affection, but the poor girl died, and the
+Arabian was left alone, unacquainted with the language of the country
+and utterly ignorant of the customs of the world. She fell, however,
+into good hands. The Italian had mentioned the name of the spot for
+which they were bound, and after her death the woman of the house in
+which they had lived took care that Safie should arrive in safety at
+the cottage of her lover.”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 15
+
+
+“Such was the history of my beloved cottagers. It impressed me deeply.
+I learned, from the views of social life which it developed, to admire
+their virtues and to deprecate the vices of mankind.
+
+“As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil, benevolence and
+generosity were ever present before me, inciting within me a desire to
+become an actor in the busy scene where so many admirable qualities
+were called forth and displayed. But in giving an account of the
+progress of my intellect, I must not omit a circumstance which occurred
+in the beginning of the month of August of the same year.
+
+“One night during my accustomed visit to the neighbouring wood where I
+collected my own food and brought home firing for my protectors, I found on
+the ground a leathern portmanteau containing several articles of dress and
+some books. I eagerly seized the prize and returned with it to my hovel. 
+Fortunately the books were written in the language, the elements of which I
+had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of _Paradise Lost_, a volume
+of _Plutarch’s Lives_, and the _Sorrows of Werter_. The
+possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I now continually
+studied and exercised my mind upon these histories, whilst my friends were
+employed in their ordinary occupations.
+
+“I can hardly describe to you the effect of these books. They produced
+in me an infinity of new images and feelings, that sometimes raised me
+to ecstasy, but more frequently sunk me into the lowest dejection. In
+the _Sorrows of Werter_, besides the interest of its simple and affecting
+story, so many opinions are canvassed and so many lights thrown upon
+what had hitherto been to me obscure subjects that I found in it a
+never-ending source of speculation and astonishment. The gentle and
+domestic manners it described, combined with lofty sentiments and
+feelings, which had for their object something out of self, accorded
+well with my experience among my protectors and with the wants which
+were for ever alive in my own bosom. But I thought Werter himself a
+more divine being than I had ever beheld or imagined; his character
+contained no pretension, but it sank deep. The disquisitions upon
+death and suicide were calculated to fill me with wonder. I did not
+pretend to enter into the merits of the case, yet I inclined towards
+the opinions of the hero, whose extinction I wept, without precisely
+understanding it.
+
+“As I read, however, I applied much personally to my own feelings and
+condition. I found myself similar yet at the same time strangely
+unlike to the beings concerning whom I read and to whose conversation I
+was a listener. I sympathised with and partly understood them, but I
+was unformed in mind; I was dependent on none and related to none.
+‘The path of my departure was free,’ and there was none to lament my
+annihilation. My person was hideous and my stature gigantic. What did
+this mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my
+destination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable to
+solve them.
+
+“The volume of _Plutarch’s Lives_ which I possessed contained the
+histories of the first founders of the ancient republics. This book
+had a far different effect upon me from the _Sorrows of Werter_. I
+learned from Werter’s imaginations despondency and gloom, but Plutarch
+taught me high thoughts; he elevated me above the wretched sphere of my
+own reflections, to admire and love the heroes of past ages. Many
+things I read surpassed my understanding and experience. I had a very
+confused knowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of country, mighty rivers,
+and boundless seas. But I was perfectly unacquainted with towns and
+large assemblages of men. The cottage of my protectors had been the
+only school in which I had studied human nature, but this book
+developed new and mightier scenes of action. I read of men concerned
+in public affairs, governing or massacring their species. I felt the
+greatest ardour for virtue rise within me, and abhorrence for vice, as
+far as I understood the signification of those terms, relative as they
+were, as I applied them, to pleasure and pain alone. Induced by these
+feelings, I was of course led to admire peaceable lawgivers, Numa,
+Solon, and Lycurgus, in preference to Romulus and Theseus. The
+patriarchal lives of my protectors caused these impressions to take a
+firm hold on my mind; perhaps, if my first introduction to humanity had
+been made by a young soldier, burning for glory and slaughter, I should
+have been imbued with different sensations.
+
+“But _Paradise Lost_ excited different and far deeper emotions. I read
+it, as I had read the other volumes which had fallen into my hands, as
+a true history. It moved every feeling of wonder and awe that the
+picture of an omnipotent God warring with his creatures was capable of
+exciting. I often referred the several situations, as their similarity
+struck me, to my own. Like Adam, I was apparently united by no link to
+any other being in existence; but his state was far different from mine
+in every other respect. He had come forth from the hands of God a
+perfect creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of
+his Creator; he was allowed to converse with and acquire knowledge from
+beings of a superior nature, but I was wretched, helpless, and alone.
+Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition, for
+often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter
+gall of envy rose within me.
+
+“Another circumstance strengthened and confirmed these feelings. Soon
+after my arrival in the hovel I discovered some papers in the pocket of
+the dress which I had taken from your laboratory. At first I had
+neglected them, but now that I was able to decipher the characters in
+which they were written, I began to study them with diligence. It was
+your journal of the four months that preceded my creation. You
+minutely described in these papers every step you took in the progress
+of your work; this history was mingled with accounts of domestic
+occurrences. You doubtless recollect these papers. Here they are.
+Everything is related in them which bears reference to my accursed
+origin; the whole detail of that series of disgusting circumstances
+which produced it is set in view; the minutest description of my odious
+and loathsome person is given, in language which painted your own
+horrors and rendered mine indelible. I sickened as I read. ‘Hateful
+day when I received life!’ I exclaimed in agony. ‘Accursed creator!
+Why did you form a monster so hideous that even _you_ turned from me in
+disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own
+image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the
+very resemblance. Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire
+and encourage him, but I am solitary and abhorred.’
+
+“These were the reflections of my hours of despondency and solitude;
+but when I contemplated the virtues of the cottagers, their amiable and
+benevolent dispositions, I persuaded myself that when they should
+become acquainted with my admiration of their virtues they would
+compassionate me and overlook my personal deformity. Could they turn
+from their door one, however monstrous, who solicited their compassion
+and friendship? I resolved, at least, not to despair, but in every way
+to fit myself for an interview with them which would decide my fate. I
+postponed this attempt for some months longer, for the importance
+attached to its success inspired me with a dread lest I should fail.
+Besides, I found that my understanding improved so much with every
+day’s experience that I was unwilling to commence this undertaking
+until a few more months should have added to my sagacity.
+
+“Several changes, in the meantime, took place in the cottage. The
+presence of Safie diffused happiness among its inhabitants, and I also
+found that a greater degree of plenty reigned there. Felix and Agatha
+spent more time in amusement and conversation, and were assisted in
+their labours by servants. They did not appear rich, but they were
+contented and happy; their feelings were serene and peaceful, while
+mine became every day more tumultuous. Increase of knowledge only
+discovered to me more clearly what a wretched outcast I was. I
+cherished hope, it is true, but it vanished when I beheld my person
+reflected in water or my shadow in the moonshine, even as that frail
+image and that inconstant shade.
+
+“I endeavoured to crush these fears and to fortify myself for the trial
+which in a few months I resolved to undergo; and sometimes I allowed my
+thoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of Paradise, and
+dared to fancy amiable and lovely creatures sympathising with my
+feelings and cheering my gloom; their angelic countenances breathed
+smiles of consolation. But it was all a dream; no Eve soothed my
+sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam’s
+supplication to his Creator. But where was mine? He had abandoned me,
+and in the bitterness of my heart I cursed him.
+
+“Autumn passed thus. I saw, with surprise and grief, the leaves decay
+and fall, and nature again assume the barren and bleak appearance it
+had worn when I first beheld the woods and the lovely moon. Yet I did
+not heed the bleakness of the weather; I was better fitted by my
+conformation for the endurance of cold than heat. But my chief
+delights were the sight of the flowers, the birds, and all the gay
+apparel of summer; when those deserted me, I turned with more attention
+towards the cottagers. Their happiness was not decreased by the
+absence of summer. They loved and sympathised with one another; and
+their joys, depending on each other, were not interrupted by the
+casualties that took place around them. The more I saw of them, the
+greater became my desire to claim their protection and kindness; my
+heart yearned to be known and loved by these amiable creatures; to see
+their sweet looks directed towards me with affection was the utmost
+limit of my ambition. I dared not think that they would turn them from
+me with disdain and horror. The poor that stopped at their door were
+never driven away. I asked, it is true, for greater treasures than a
+little food or rest: I required kindness and sympathy; but I did not
+believe myself utterly unworthy of it.
+
+“The winter advanced, and an entire revolution of the seasons had taken
+place since I awoke into life. My attention at this time was solely
+directed towards my plan of introducing myself into the cottage of my
+protectors. I revolved many projects, but that on which I finally
+fixed was to enter the dwelling when the blind old man should be alone.
+I had sagacity enough to discover that the unnatural hideousness of my
+person was the chief object of horror with those who had formerly
+beheld me. My voice, although harsh, had nothing terrible in it; I
+thought, therefore, that if in the absence of his children I could gain
+the good will and mediation of the old De Lacey, I might by his means
+be tolerated by my younger protectors.
+
+“One day, when the sun shone on the red leaves that strewed the ground
+and diffused cheerfulness, although it denied warmth, Safie, Agatha,
+and Felix departed on a long country walk, and the old man, at his own
+desire, was left alone in the cottage. When his children had departed,
+he took up his guitar and played several mournful but sweet airs, more
+sweet and mournful than I had ever heard him play before. At first his
+countenance was illuminated with pleasure, but as he continued,
+thoughtfulness and sadness succeeded; at length, laying aside the
+instrument, he sat absorbed in reflection.
+
+“My heart beat quick; this was the hour and moment of trial, which
+would decide my hopes or realise my fears. The servants were gone to a
+neighbouring fair. All was silent in and around the cottage; it was an
+excellent opportunity; yet, when I proceeded to execute my plan, my
+limbs failed me and I sank to the ground. Again I rose, and exerting
+all the firmness of which I was master, removed the planks which I had
+placed before my hovel to conceal my retreat. The fresh air revived
+me, and with renewed determination I approached the door of their
+cottage.
+
+“I knocked. ‘Who is there?’ said the old man. ‘Come in.’
+
+“I entered. ‘Pardon this intrusion,’ said I; ‘I am
+a traveller in want of a little rest; you would greatly oblige me if you
+would allow me to remain a few minutes before the fire.’
+
+“‘Enter,’ said De Lacey, ‘and I will try in what
+manner I can to relieve your wants; but, unfortunately, my children are
+from home, and as I am blind, I am afraid I shall find it difficult to
+procure food for you.’
+
+“‘Do not trouble yourself, my kind host; I have food; it is
+warmth and rest only that I need.’
+
+“I sat down, and a silence ensued. I knew that every minute was
+precious to me, yet I remained irresolute in what manner to commence
+the interview, when the old man addressed me.
+
+‘By your language, stranger, I suppose you are my countryman; are you
+French?’
+
+“‘No; but I was educated by a French family and understand that
+language only. I am now going to claim the protection of some friends,
+whom I sincerely love, and of whose favour I have some hopes.’
+
+“‘Are they Germans?’
+
+“‘No, they are French. But let us change the subject. I am an
+unfortunate and deserted creature, I look around and I have no relation
+or friend upon earth. These amiable people to whom I go have never
+seen me and know little of me. I am full of fears, for if I fail
+there, I am an outcast in the world for ever.’
+
+“‘Do not despair. To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate, but
+the hearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self-interest, are
+full of brotherly love and charity. Rely, therefore, on your hopes;
+and if these friends are good and amiable, do not despair.’
+
+“‘They are kind—they are the most excellent creatures in the world;
+but, unfortunately, they are prejudiced against me. I have good
+dispositions; my life has been hitherto harmless and in some degree
+beneficial; but a fatal prejudice clouds their eyes, and where they
+ought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestable
+monster.’
+
+“‘That is indeed unfortunate; but if you are really blameless, cannot
+you undeceive them?’
+
+“‘I am about to undertake that task; and it is on that account that I
+feel so many overwhelming terrors. I tenderly love these friends; I
+have, unknown to them, been for many months in the habits of daily
+kindness towards them; but they believe that I wish to injure them, and
+it is that prejudice which I wish to overcome.’
+
+“‘Where do these friends reside?’
+
+“‘Near this spot.’
+
+“The old man paused and then continued, ‘If you will unreservedly
+confide to me the particulars of your tale, I perhaps may be of use in
+undeceiving them. I am blind and cannot judge of your countenance, but
+there is something in your words which persuades me that you are
+sincere. I am poor and an exile, but it will afford me true pleasure
+to be in any way serviceable to a human creature.’
+
+“‘Excellent man! I thank you and accept your generous offer. You
+raise me from the dust by this kindness; and I trust that, by your aid,
+I shall not be driven from the society and sympathy of your fellow
+creatures.’
+
+“‘Heaven forbid! Even if you were really criminal, for that can only
+drive you to desperation, and not instigate you to virtue. I also am
+unfortunate; I and my family have been condemned, although innocent;
+judge, therefore, if I do not feel for your misfortunes.’
+
+“‘How can I thank you, my best and only benefactor? From your lips
+first have I heard the voice of kindness directed towards me; I shall
+be for ever grateful; and your present humanity assures me of success
+with those friends whom I am on the point of meeting.’
+
+“‘May I know the names and residence of those friends?’
+
+“I paused. This, I thought, was the moment of decision, which was to
+rob me of or bestow happiness on me for ever. I struggled vainly for
+firmness sufficient to answer him, but the effort destroyed all my
+remaining strength; I sank on the chair and sobbed aloud. At that
+moment I heard the steps of my younger protectors. I had not a moment
+to lose, but seizing the hand of the old man, I cried, ‘Now is the
+time! Save and protect me! You and your family are the friends whom I
+seek. Do not you desert me in the hour of trial!’
+
+“‘Great God!’ exclaimed the old man. ‘Who are you?’
+
+“At that instant the cottage door was opened, and Felix, Safie, and
+Agatha entered. Who can describe their horror and consternation on
+beholding me? Agatha fainted, and Safie, unable to attend to her
+friend, rushed out of the cottage. Felix darted forward, and with
+supernatural force tore me from his father, to whose knees I clung, in
+a transport of fury, he dashed me to the ground and struck me violently
+with a stick. I could have torn him limb from limb, as the lion rends
+the antelope. But my heart sank within me as with bitter sickness, and
+I refrained. I saw him on the point of repeating his blow, when,
+overcome by pain and anguish, I quitted the cottage, and in the general
+tumult escaped unperceived to my hovel.”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 16
+
+
+“Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? Why, in that instant, did I
+not extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly
+bestowed? I know not; despair had not yet taken possession of me; my
+feelings were those of rage and revenge. I could with pleasure have
+destroyed the cottage and its inhabitants and have glutted myself with
+their shrieks and misery.
+
+“When night came I quitted my retreat and wandered in the wood; and
+now, no longer restrained by the fear of discovery, I gave vent to my
+anguish in fearful howlings. I was like a wild beast that had broken
+the toils, destroying the objects that obstructed me and ranging
+through the wood with a stag-like swiftness. Oh! What a miserable
+night I passed! The cold stars shone in mockery, and the bare trees
+waved their branches above me; now and then the sweet voice of a bird
+burst forth amidst the universal stillness. All, save I, were at rest
+or in enjoyment; I, like the arch-fiend, bore a hell within me, and
+finding myself unsympathised with, wished to tear up the trees, spread
+havoc and destruction around me, and then to have sat down and enjoyed
+the ruin.
+
+“But this was a luxury of sensation that could not endure; I became
+fatigued with excess of bodily exertion and sank on the damp grass in
+the sick impotence of despair. There was none among the myriads of men
+that existed who would pity or assist me; and should I feel kindness
+towards my enemies? No; from that moment I declared everlasting war
+against the species, and more than all, against him who had formed me
+and sent me forth to this insupportable misery.
+
+“The sun rose; I heard the voices of men and knew that it was
+impossible to return to my retreat during that day. Accordingly I hid
+myself in some thick underwood, determining to devote the ensuing hours
+to reflection on my situation.
+
+“The pleasant sunshine and the pure air of day restored me to some
+degree of tranquillity; and when I considered what had passed at the
+cottage, I could not help believing that I had been too hasty in my
+conclusions. I had certainly acted imprudently. It was apparent that
+my conversation had interested the father in my behalf, and I was a
+fool in having exposed my person to the horror of his children. I
+ought to have familiarised the old De Lacey to me, and by degrees to
+have discovered myself to the rest of his family, when they should have
+been prepared for my approach. But I did not believe my errors to be
+irretrievable, and after much consideration I resolved to return to the
+cottage, seek the old man, and by my representations win him to my
+party.
+
+“These thoughts calmed me, and in the afternoon I sank into a profound
+sleep; but the fever of my blood did not allow me to be visited by
+peaceful dreams. The horrible scene of the preceding day was for ever
+acting before my eyes; the females were flying and the enraged Felix
+tearing me from his father’s feet. I awoke exhausted, and finding that
+it was already night, I crept forth from my hiding-place, and went in
+search of food.
+
+“When my hunger was appeased, I directed my steps towards the
+well-known path that conducted to the cottage. All there was at peace.
+I crept into my hovel and remained in silent expectation of the
+accustomed hour when the family arose. That hour passed, the sun
+mounted high in the heavens, but the cottagers did not appear. I
+trembled violently, apprehending some dreadful misfortune. The inside
+of the cottage was dark, and I heard no motion; I cannot describe the
+agony of this suspense.
+
+“Presently two countrymen passed by, but pausing near the cottage, they
+entered into conversation, using violent gesticulations; but I did not
+understand what they said, as they spoke the language of the country,
+which differed from that of my protectors. Soon after, however, Felix
+approached with another man; I was surprised, as I knew that he had not
+quitted the cottage that morning, and waited anxiously to discover from
+his discourse the meaning of these unusual appearances.
+
+“‘Do you consider,’ said his companion to him,
+‘that you will be obliged to pay three months’ rent and to lose
+the produce of your garden? I do not wish to take any unfair advantage, and
+I beg therefore that you will take some days to consider of your
+determination.’
+
+“‘It is utterly useless,’ replied Felix; ‘we can
+never again inhabit your cottage. The life of my father is in the greatest
+danger, owing to the dreadful circumstance that I have related. My wife and
+my sister will never recover from their horror. I entreat you not to reason
+with me any more. Take possession of your tenement and let me fly from this
+place.’
+
+“Felix trembled violently as he said this. He and his companion
+entered the cottage, in which they remained for a few minutes, and then
+departed. I never saw any of the family of De Lacey more.
+
+“I continued for the remainder of the day in my hovel in a state of
+utter and stupid despair. My protectors had departed and had broken
+the only link that held me to the world. For the first time the
+feelings of revenge and hatred filled my bosom, and I did not strive to
+control them, but allowing myself to be borne away by the stream, I
+bent my mind towards injury and death. When I thought of my friends,
+of the mild voice of De Lacey, the gentle eyes of Agatha, and the
+exquisite beauty of the Arabian, these thoughts vanished and a gush of
+tears somewhat soothed me. But again when I reflected that they had
+spurned and deserted me, anger returned, a rage of anger, and unable to
+injure anything human, I turned my fury towards inanimate objects. As
+night advanced, I placed a variety of combustibles around the cottage,
+and after having destroyed every vestige of cultivation in the garden,
+I waited with forced impatience until the moon had sunk to commence my
+operations.
+
+“As the night advanced, a fierce wind arose from the woods and quickly
+dispersed the clouds that had loitered in the heavens; the blast tore
+along like a mighty avalanche and produced a kind of insanity in my
+spirits that burst all bounds of reason and reflection. I lighted the
+dry branch of a tree and danced with fury around the devoted cottage,
+my eyes still fixed on the western horizon, the edge of which the moon
+nearly touched. A part of its orb was at length hid, and I waved my
+brand; it sank, and with a loud scream I fired the straw, and heath,
+and bushes, which I had collected. The wind fanned the fire, and the
+cottage was quickly enveloped by the flames, which clung to it and
+licked it with their forked and destroying tongues.
+
+“As soon as I was convinced that no assistance could save any part of
+the habitation, I quitted the scene and sought for refuge in the woods.
+
+“And now, with the world before me, whither should I bend my steps? I
+resolved to fly far from the scene of my misfortunes; but to me, hated
+and despised, every country must be equally horrible. At length the
+thought of you crossed my mind. I learned from your papers that you
+were my father, my creator; and to whom could I apply with more fitness
+than to him who had given me life? Among the lessons that Felix had
+bestowed upon Safie, geography had not been omitted; I had learned from
+these the relative situations of the different countries of the earth.
+You had mentioned Geneva as the name of your native town, and towards
+this place I resolved to proceed.
+
+“But how was I to direct myself? I knew that I must travel in a
+southwesterly direction to reach my destination, but the sun was my
+only guide. I did not know the names of the towns that I was to pass
+through, nor could I ask information from a single human being; but I
+did not despair. From you only could I hope for succour, although
+towards you I felt no sentiment but that of hatred. Unfeeling,
+heartless creator! You had endowed me with perceptions and passions
+and then cast me abroad an object for the scorn and horror of mankind.
+But on you only had I any claim for pity and redress, and from you I
+determined to seek that justice which I vainly attempted to gain from
+any other being that wore the human form.
+
+“My travels were long and the sufferings I endured intense. It was
+late in autumn when I quitted the district where I had so long resided.
+I travelled only at night, fearful of encountering the visage of a
+human being. Nature decayed around me, and the sun became heatless;
+rain and snow poured around me; mighty rivers were frozen; the surface
+of the earth was hard and chill, and bare, and I found no shelter. Oh,
+earth! How often did I imprecate curses on the cause of my being! The
+mildness of my nature had fled, and all within me was turned to gall
+and bitterness. The nearer I approached to your habitation, the more
+deeply did I feel the spirit of revenge enkindled in my heart. Snow
+fell, and the waters were hardened, but I rested not. A few incidents
+now and then directed me, and I possessed a map of the country; but I
+often wandered wide from my path. The agony of my feelings allowed me
+no respite; no incident occurred from which my rage and misery could
+not extract its food; but a circumstance that happened when I arrived
+on the confines of Switzerland, when the sun had recovered its warmth
+and the earth again began to look green, confirmed in an especial
+manner the bitterness and horror of my feelings.
+
+“I generally rested during the day and travelled only when I was
+secured by night from the view of man. One morning, however, finding
+that my path lay through a deep wood, I ventured to continue my journey
+after the sun had risen; the day, which was one of the first of spring,
+cheered even me by the loveliness of its sunshine and the balminess of
+the air. I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure, that had long
+appeared dead, revive within me. Half surprised by the novelty of
+these sensations, I allowed myself to be borne away by them, and
+forgetting my solitude and deformity, dared to be happy. Soft tears
+again bedewed my cheeks, and I even raised my humid eyes with
+thankfulness towards the blessed sun, which bestowed such joy upon me.
+
+“I continued to wind among the paths of the wood, until I came to its
+boundary, which was skirted by a deep and rapid river, into which many
+of the trees bent their branches, now budding with the fresh spring.
+Here I paused, not exactly knowing what path to pursue, when I heard
+the sound of voices, that induced me to conceal myself under the shade
+of a cypress. I was scarcely hid when a young girl came running
+towards the spot where I was concealed, laughing, as if she ran from
+someone in sport. She continued her course along the precipitous sides
+of the river, when suddenly her foot slipped, and she fell into the
+rapid stream. I rushed from my hiding-place and with extreme labour,
+from the force of the current, saved her and dragged her to shore. She
+was senseless, and I endeavoured by every means in my power to restore
+animation, when I was suddenly interrupted by the approach of a rustic,
+who was probably the person from whom she had playfully fled. On
+seeing me, he darted towards me, and tearing the girl from my arms,
+hastened towards the deeper parts of the wood. I followed speedily, I
+hardly knew why; but when the man saw me draw near, he aimed a gun,
+which he carried, at my body and fired. I sank to the ground, and my
+injurer, with increased swiftness, escaped into the wood.
+
+“This was then the reward of my benevolence! I had saved a human being
+from destruction, and as a recompense I now writhed under the miserable
+pain of a wound which shattered the flesh and bone. The feelings of
+kindness and gentleness which I had entertained but a few moments
+before gave place to hellish rage and gnashing of teeth. Inflamed by
+pain, I vowed eternal hatred and vengeance to all mankind. But the
+agony of my wound overcame me; my pulses paused, and I fainted.
+
+“For some weeks I led a miserable life in the woods, endeavouring to
+cure the wound which I had received. The ball had entered my shoulder,
+and I knew not whether it had remained there or passed through; at any
+rate I had no means of extracting it. My sufferings were augmented
+also by the oppressive sense of the injustice and ingratitude of their
+infliction. My daily vows rose for revenge—a deep and deadly revenge,
+such as would alone compensate for the outrages and anguish I had
+endured.
+
+“After some weeks my wound healed, and I continued my journey. The
+labours I endured were no longer to be alleviated by the bright sun or
+gentle breezes of spring; all joy was but a mockery which insulted my
+desolate state and made me feel more painfully that I was not made for
+the enjoyment of pleasure.
+
+“But my toils now drew near a close, and in two months from this time I
+reached the environs of Geneva.
+
+“It was evening when I arrived, and I retired to a hiding-place among
+the fields that surround it to meditate in what manner I should apply
+to you. I was oppressed by fatigue and hunger and far too unhappy to
+enjoy the gentle breezes of evening or the prospect of the sun setting
+behind the stupendous mountains of Jura.
+
+“At this time a slight sleep relieved me from the pain of reflection,
+which was disturbed by the approach of a beautiful child, who came
+running into the recess I had chosen, with all the sportiveness of
+infancy. Suddenly, as I gazed on him, an idea seized me that this
+little creature was unprejudiced and had lived too short a time to have
+imbibed a horror of deformity. If, therefore, I could seize him and
+educate him as my companion and friend, I should not be so desolate in
+this peopled earth.
+
+“Urged by this impulse, I seized on the boy as he passed and drew him
+towards me. As soon as he beheld my form, he placed his hands before
+his eyes and uttered a shrill scream; I drew his hand forcibly from his
+face and said, ‘Child, what is the meaning of this? I do not intend to
+hurt you; listen to me.’
+
+“He struggled violently. ‘Let me go,’ he cried;
+‘monster! Ugly wretch! You wish to eat me and tear me to pieces. You
+are an ogre. Let me go, or I will tell my papa.’
+
+“‘Boy, you will never see your father again; you must come with me.’
+
+“‘Hideous monster! Let me go. My papa is a syndic—he is M.
+Frankenstein—he will punish you. You dare not keep me.’
+
+“‘Frankenstein! you belong then to my enemy—to him towards whom I have
+sworn eternal revenge; you shall be my first victim.’
+
+“The child still struggled and loaded me with epithets which carried
+despair to my heart; I grasped his throat to silence him, and in a
+moment he lay dead at my feet.
+
+“I gazed on my victim, and my heart swelled with exultation and hellish
+triumph; clapping my hands, I exclaimed, ‘I too can create desolation;
+my enemy is not invulnerable; this death will carry despair to him, and
+a thousand other miseries shall torment and destroy him.’
+
+“As I fixed my eyes on the child, I saw something glittering on his
+breast. I took it; it was a portrait of a most lovely woman. In spite
+of my malignity, it softened and attracted me. For a few moments I
+gazed with delight on her dark eyes, fringed by deep lashes, and her
+lovely lips; but presently my rage returned; I remembered that I was
+for ever deprived of the delights that such beautiful creatures could
+bestow and that she whose resemblance I contemplated would, in
+regarding me, have changed that air of divine benignity to one
+expressive of disgust and affright.
+
+“Can you wonder that such thoughts transported me with rage? I only
+wonder that at that moment, instead of venting my sensations in
+exclamations and agony, I did not rush among mankind and perish in the
+attempt to destroy them.
+
+“While I was overcome by these feelings, I left the spot where I had
+committed the murder, and seeking a more secluded hiding-place, I
+entered a barn which had appeared to me to be empty. A woman was
+sleeping on some straw; she was young, not indeed so beautiful as her
+whose portrait I held, but of an agreeable aspect and blooming in the
+loveliness of youth and health. Here, I thought, is one of those whose
+joy-imparting smiles are bestowed on all but me. And then I bent over
+her and whispered, ‘Awake, fairest, thy lover is near—he who would
+give his life but to obtain one look of affection from thine eyes; my
+beloved, awake!’
+
+“The sleeper stirred; a thrill of terror ran through me. Should she
+indeed awake, and see me, and curse me, and denounce the murderer? Thus
+would she assuredly act if her darkened eyes opened and she beheld me.
+The thought was madness; it stirred the fiend within me—not I, but
+she, shall suffer; the murder I have committed because I am for ever
+robbed of all that she could give me, she shall atone. The crime had
+its source in her; be hers the punishment! Thanks to the lessons of
+Felix and the sanguinary laws of man, I had learned now to work
+mischief. I bent over her and placed the portrait securely in one of
+the folds of her dress. She moved again, and I fled.
+
+“For some days I haunted the spot where these scenes had taken place,
+sometimes wishing to see you, sometimes resolved to quit the world and
+its miseries for ever. At length I wandered towards these mountains,
+and have ranged through their immense recesses, consumed by a burning
+passion which you alone can gratify. We may not part until you have
+promised to comply with my requisition. I am alone and miserable; man
+will not associate with me; but one as deformed and horrible as myself
+would not deny herself to me. My companion must be of the same species
+and have the same defects. This being you must create.”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 17
+
+
+The being finished speaking and fixed his looks upon me in the
+expectation of a reply. But I was bewildered, perplexed, and unable to
+arrange my ideas sufficiently to understand the full extent of his
+proposition. He continued,
+
+“You must create a female for me with whom I can live in the
+interchange of those sympathies necessary for my being. This you alone
+can do, and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse to
+concede.”
+
+The latter part of his tale had kindled anew in me the anger that had
+died away while he narrated his peaceful life among the cottagers, and
+as he said this I could no longer suppress the rage that burned within
+me.
+
+“I do refuse it,” I replied; “and no torture shall ever extort a
+consent from me. You may render me the most miserable of men, but you
+shall never make me base in my own eyes. Shall I create another like
+yourself, whose joint wickedness might desolate the world. Begone! I
+have answered you; you may torture me, but I will never consent.”
+
+“You are in the wrong,” replied the fiend; “and instead
+of threatening, I am content to reason with you. I am malicious because I
+am miserable. Am I not shunned and hated by all mankind? You, my creator,
+would tear me to pieces and triumph; remember that, and tell me why I
+should pity man more than he pities me? You would not call it murder if you
+could precipitate me into one of those ice-rifts and destroy my frame, the
+work of your own hands. Shall I respect man when he condemns me? Let him
+live with me in the interchange of kindness, and instead of injury I would
+bestow every benefit upon him with tears of gratitude at his acceptance.
+But that cannot be; the human senses are insurmountable barriers to our
+union. Yet mine shall not be the submission of abject slavery. I will
+revenge my injuries; if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear, and
+chiefly towards you my arch-enemy, because my creator, do I swear
+inextinguishable hatred. Have a care; I will work at your destruction, nor
+finish until I desolate your heart, so that you shall curse the hour of
+your birth.”
+
+A fiendish rage animated him as he said this; his face was wrinkled
+into contortions too horrible for human eyes to behold; but presently
+he calmed himself and proceeded—
+
+“I intended to reason. This passion is detrimental to me, for you do
+not reflect that _you_ are the cause of its excess. If any being felt
+emotions of benevolence towards me, I should return them a hundred and a
+hundredfold; for that one creature’s sake I would make peace with the
+whole kind! But I now indulge in dreams of bliss that cannot be realised.
+What I ask of you is reasonable and moderate; I demand a creature of
+another sex, but as hideous as myself; the gratification is small, but it
+is all that I can receive, and it shall content me. It is true, we shall be
+monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more
+attached to one another. Our lives will not be happy, but they will be
+harmless and free from the misery I now feel. Oh! My creator, make me
+happy; let me feel gratitude towards you for one benefit! Let me see that I
+excite the sympathy of some existing thing; do not deny me my
+request!”
+
+I was moved. I shuddered when I thought of the possible consequences
+of my consent, but I felt that there was some justice in his argument.
+His tale and the feelings he now expressed proved him to be a creature
+of fine sensations, and did I not as his maker owe him all the portion
+of happiness that it was in my power to bestow? He saw my change of
+feeling and continued,
+
+“If you consent, neither you nor any other human being shall ever see
+us again; I will go to the vast wilds of South America. My food is not
+that of man; I do not destroy the lamb and the kid to glut my appetite;
+acorns and berries afford me sufficient nourishment. My companion will
+be of the same nature as myself and will be content with the same fare.
+We shall make our bed of dried leaves; the sun will shine on us as on
+man and will ripen our food. The picture I present to you is peaceful
+and human, and you must feel that you could deny it only in the
+wantonness of power and cruelty. Pitiless as you have been towards me,
+I now see compassion in your eyes; let me seize the favourable moment
+and persuade you to promise what I so ardently desire.”
+
+“You propose,” replied I, “to fly from the habitations of
+man, to dwell in those wilds where the beasts of the field will be your
+only companions. How can you, who long for the love and sympathy of man,
+persevere in this exile? You will return and again seek their kindness, and
+you will meet with their detestation; your evil passions will be renewed,
+and you will then have a companion to aid you in the task of destruction.
+This may not be; cease to argue the point, for I cannot consent.”
+
+“How inconstant are your feelings! But a moment ago you were moved by
+my representations, and why do you again harden yourself to my complaints?
+I swear to you, by the earth which I inhabit, and by you that made me, that
+with the companion you bestow, I will quit the neighbourhood of man and
+dwell, as it may chance, in the most savage of places. My evil passions
+will have fled, for I shall meet with sympathy! My life will flow quietly
+away, and in my dying moments I shall not curse my maker.”
+
+His words had a strange effect upon me. I compassionated him and
+sometimes felt a wish to console him, but when I looked upon him, when
+I saw the filthy mass that moved and talked, my heart sickened and my
+feelings were altered to those of horror and hatred. I tried to stifle
+these sensations; I thought that as I could not sympathise with him, I
+had no right to withhold from him the small portion of happiness which
+was yet in my power to bestow.
+
+“You swear,” I said, “to be harmless; but have you not
+already shown a degree of malice that should reasonably make me distrust
+you? May not even this be a feint that will increase your triumph by
+affording a wider scope for your revenge?”
+
+“How is this? I must not be trifled with, and I demand an answer. If
+I have no ties and no affections, hatred and vice must be my portion;
+the love of another will destroy the cause of my crimes, and I shall
+become a thing of whose existence everyone will be ignorant. My vices
+are the children of a forced solitude that I abhor, and my virtues will
+necessarily arise when I live in communion with an equal. I shall feel
+the affections of a sensitive being and become linked to the chain of
+existence and events from which I am now excluded.”
+
+I paused some time to reflect on all he had related and the various
+arguments which he had employed. I thought of the promise of virtues which
+he had displayed on the opening of his existence and the subsequent blight
+of all kindly feeling by the loathing and scorn which his protectors had
+manifested towards him. His power and threats were not omitted in my
+calculations; a creature who could exist in the ice-caves of the glaciers
+and hide himself from pursuit among the ridges of inaccessible precipices
+was a being possessing faculties it would be vain to cope with. After a
+long pause of reflection I concluded that the justice due both to him and
+my fellow creatures demanded of me that I should comply with his request.
+Turning to him, therefore, I said,
+
+“I consent to your demand, on your solemn oath to quit Europe for ever,
+and every other place in the neighbourhood of man, as soon as I shall
+deliver into your hands a female who will accompany you in your exile.”
+
+“I swear,” he cried, “by the sun, and by the blue sky of
+heaven, and by the fire of love that burns my heart, that if you grant my
+prayer, while they exist you shall never behold me again. Depart to your
+home and commence your labours; I shall watch their progress with
+unutterable anxiety; and fear not but that when you are ready I shall
+appear.”
+
+Saying this, he suddenly quitted me, fearful, perhaps, of any change in
+my sentiments. I saw him descend the mountain with greater speed than
+the flight of an eagle, and quickly lost among the undulations of the
+sea of ice.
+
+His tale had occupied the whole day, and the sun was upon the verge of
+the horizon when he departed. I knew that I ought to hasten my descent
+towards the valley, as I should soon be encompassed in darkness; but my
+heart was heavy, and my steps slow. The labour of winding among the
+little paths of the mountain and fixing my feet firmly as I advanced
+perplexed me, occupied as I was by the emotions which the occurrences
+of the day had produced. Night was far advanced when I came to the
+halfway resting-place and seated myself beside the fountain. The stars
+shone at intervals as the clouds passed from over them; the dark pines
+rose before me, and every here and there a broken tree lay on the
+ground; it was a scene of wonderful solemnity and stirred strange
+thoughts within me. I wept bitterly, and clasping my hands in agony, I
+exclaimed, “Oh! stars and clouds and winds, ye are all about to mock
+me; if ye really pity me, crush sensation and memory; let me become as
+nought; but if not, depart, depart, and leave me in darkness.”
+
+These were wild and miserable thoughts, but I cannot describe to you
+how the eternal twinkling of the stars weighed upon me and how I
+listened to every blast of wind as if it were a dull ugly siroc on its
+way to consume me.
+
+Morning dawned before I arrived at the village of Chamounix; I took no
+rest, but returned immediately to Geneva. Even in my own heart I could
+give no expression to my sensations—they weighed on me with a
+mountain’s weight and their excess destroyed my agony beneath them.
+Thus I returned home, and entering the house, presented myself to the
+family. My haggard and wild appearance awoke intense alarm, but I
+answered no question, scarcely did I speak. I felt as if I were placed
+under a ban—as if I had no right to claim their sympathies—as if
+never more might I enjoy companionship with them. Yet even thus I
+loved them to adoration; and to save them, I resolved to dedicate
+myself to my most abhorred task. The prospect of such an occupation
+made every other circumstance of existence pass before me like a dream,
+and that thought only had to me the reality of life.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 18
+
+
+Day after day, week after week, passed away on my return to Geneva; and
+I could not collect the courage to recommence my work. I feared the
+vengeance of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to overcome my
+repugnance to the task which was enjoined me. I found that I could not
+compose a female without again devoting several months to profound
+study and laborious disquisition. I had heard of some discoveries
+having been made by an English philosopher, the knowledge of which was
+material to my success, and I sometimes thought of obtaining my
+father’s consent to visit England for this purpose; but I clung to
+every pretence of delay and shrank from taking the first step in an
+undertaking whose immediate necessity began to appear less absolute to
+me. A change indeed had taken place in me; my health, which had
+hitherto declined, was now much restored; and my spirits, when
+unchecked by the memory of my unhappy promise, rose proportionably. My
+father saw this change with pleasure, and he turned his thoughts
+towards the best method of eradicating the remains of my melancholy,
+which every now and then would return by fits, and with a devouring
+blackness overcast the approaching sunshine. At these moments I took
+refuge in the most perfect solitude. I passed whole days on the lake
+alone in a little boat, watching the clouds and listening to the
+rippling of the waves, silent and listless. But the fresh air and
+bright sun seldom failed to restore me to some degree of composure, and
+on my return I met the salutations of my friends with a readier smile
+and a more cheerful heart.
+
+It was after my return from one of these rambles that my father,
+calling me aside, thus addressed me,
+
+“I am happy to remark, my dear son, that you have resumed your former
+pleasures and seem to be returning to yourself. And yet you are still
+unhappy and still avoid our society. For some time I was lost in
+conjecture as to the cause of this, but yesterday an idea struck me,
+and if it is well founded, I conjure you to avow it. Reserve on such a
+point would be not only useless, but draw down treble misery on us all.”
+
+I trembled violently at his exordium, and my father continued—
+
+“I confess, my son, that I have always looked forward to your
+marriage with our dear Elizabeth as the tie of our domestic comfort and the
+stay of my declining years. You were attached to each other from your
+earliest infancy; you studied together, and appeared, in dispositions and
+tastes, entirely suited to one another. But so blind is the experience of
+man that what I conceived to be the best assistants to my plan may have
+entirely destroyed it. You, perhaps, regard her as your sister, without any
+wish that she might become your wife. Nay, you may have met with another
+whom you may love; and considering yourself as bound in honour to
+Elizabeth, this struggle may occasion the poignant misery which you appear
+to feel.”
+
+“My dear father, reassure yourself. I love my cousin tenderly and
+sincerely. I never saw any woman who excited, as Elizabeth does, my
+warmest admiration and affection. My future hopes and prospects are
+entirely bound up in the expectation of our union.”
+
+“The expression of your sentiments of this subject, my dear Victor,
+gives me more pleasure than I have for some time experienced. If you
+feel thus, we shall assuredly be happy, however present events may cast
+a gloom over us. But it is this gloom which appears to have taken so
+strong a hold of your mind that I wish to dissipate. Tell me,
+therefore, whether you object to an immediate solemnisation of the
+marriage. We have been unfortunate, and recent events have drawn us
+from that everyday tranquillity befitting my years and infirmities. You
+are younger; yet I do not suppose, possessed as you are of a competent
+fortune, that an early marriage would at all interfere with any future
+plans of honour and utility that you may have formed. Do not suppose,
+however, that I wish to dictate happiness to you or that a delay on
+your part would cause me any serious uneasiness. Interpret my words
+with candour and answer me, I conjure you, with confidence and
+sincerity.”
+
+I listened to my father in silence and remained for some time incapable
+of offering any reply. I revolved rapidly in my mind a multitude of
+thoughts and endeavoured to arrive at some conclusion. Alas! To me
+the idea of an immediate union with my Elizabeth was one of horror and
+dismay. I was bound by a solemn promise which I had not yet fulfilled
+and dared not break, or if I did, what manifold miseries might not
+impend over me and my devoted family! Could I enter into a festival
+with this deadly weight yet hanging round my neck and bowing me to the
+ground? I must perform my engagement and let the monster depart with
+his mate before I allowed myself to enjoy the delight of a union from
+which I expected peace.
+
+I remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying to
+England or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophers
+of that country whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensable
+use to me in my present undertaking. The latter method of obtaining
+the desired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory; besides, I
+had an insurmountable aversion to the idea of engaging myself in my
+loathsome task in my father’s house while in habits of familiar
+intercourse with those I loved. I knew that a thousand fearful
+accidents might occur, the slightest of which would disclose a tale to
+thrill all connected with me with horror. I was aware also that I
+should often lose all self-command, all capacity of hiding the
+harrowing sensations that would possess me during the progress of my
+unearthly occupation. I must absent myself from all I loved while thus
+employed. Once commenced, it would quickly be achieved, and I might be
+restored to my family in peace and happiness. My promise fulfilled,
+the monster would depart for ever. Or (so my fond fancy imaged) some
+accident might meanwhile occur to destroy him and put an end to my
+slavery for ever.
+
+These feelings dictated my answer to my father. I expressed a wish to
+visit England, but concealing the true reasons of this request, I
+clothed my desires under a guise which excited no suspicion, while I
+urged my desire with an earnestness that easily induced my father to
+comply. After so long a period of an absorbing melancholy that
+resembled madness in its intensity and effects, he was glad to find
+that I was capable of taking pleasure in the idea of such a journey,
+and he hoped that change of scene and varied amusement would, before my
+return, have restored me entirely to myself.
+
+The duration of my absence was left to my own choice; a few months, or
+at most a year, was the period contemplated. One paternal kind
+precaution he had taken to ensure my having a companion. Without
+previously communicating with me, he had, in concert with Elizabeth,
+arranged that Clerval should join me at Strasburgh. This interfered
+with the solitude I coveted for the prosecution of my task; yet at the
+commencement of my journey the presence of my friend could in no way be
+an impediment, and truly I rejoiced that thus I should be saved many
+hours of lonely, maddening reflection. Nay, Henry might stand between
+me and the intrusion of my foe. If I were alone, would he not at times
+force his abhorred presence on me to remind me of my task or to
+contemplate its progress?
+
+To England, therefore, I was bound, and it was understood that my union
+with Elizabeth should take place immediately on my return. My father’s
+age rendered him extremely averse to delay. For myself, there was one
+reward I promised myself from my detested toils—one consolation for my
+unparalleled sufferings; it was the prospect of that day when,
+enfranchised from my miserable slavery, I might claim Elizabeth and
+forget the past in my union with her.
+
+I now made arrangements for my journey, but one feeling haunted me
+which filled me with fear and agitation. During my absence I should
+leave my friends unconscious of the existence of their enemy and
+unprotected from his attacks, exasperated as he might be by my
+departure. But he had promised to follow me wherever I might go, and
+would he not accompany me to England? This imagination was dreadful in
+itself, but soothing inasmuch as it supposed the safety of my friends.
+I was agonised with the idea of the possibility that the reverse of
+this might happen. But through the whole period during which I was the
+slave of my creature I allowed myself to be governed by the impulses of
+the moment; and my present sensations strongly intimated that the fiend
+would follow me and exempt my family from the danger of his
+machinations.
+
+It was in the latter end of September that I again quitted my native
+country. My journey had been my own suggestion, and Elizabeth
+therefore acquiesced, but she was filled with disquiet at the idea of
+my suffering, away from her, the inroads of misery and grief. It had
+been her care which provided me a companion in Clerval—and yet a man
+is blind to a thousand minute circumstances which call forth a woman’s
+sedulous attention. She longed to bid me hasten my return; a thousand
+conflicting emotions rendered her mute as she bade me a tearful, silent
+farewell.
+
+I threw myself into the carriage that was to convey me away, hardly
+knowing whither I was going, and careless of what was passing around.
+I remembered only, and it was with a bitter anguish that I reflected on
+it, to order that my chemical instruments should be packed to go with
+me. Filled with dreary imaginations, I passed through many beautiful
+and majestic scenes, but my eyes were fixed and unobserving. I could
+only think of the bourne of my travels and the work which was to occupy
+me whilst they endured.
+
+After some days spent in listless indolence, during which I traversed
+many leagues, I arrived at Strasburgh, where I waited two days for
+Clerval. He came. Alas, how great was the contrast between us! He
+was alive to every new scene, joyful when he saw the beauties of the
+setting sun, and more happy when he beheld it rise and recommence a new
+day. He pointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape and
+the appearances of the sky. “This is what it is to live,” he cried;
+“now I enjoy existence! But you, my dear Frankenstein, wherefore are
+you desponding and sorrowful!” In truth, I was occupied by gloomy
+thoughts and neither saw the descent of the evening star nor the golden
+sunrise reflected in the Rhine. And you, my friend, would be far more
+amused with the journal of Clerval, who observed the scenery with an
+eye of feeling and delight, than in listening to my reflections. I, a
+miserable wretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to
+enjoyment.
+
+We had agreed to descend the Rhine in a boat from Strasburgh to
+Rotterdam, whence we might take shipping for London. During this
+voyage we passed many willowy islands and saw several beautiful towns.
+We stayed a day at Mannheim, and on the fifth from our departure from
+Strasburgh, arrived at Mainz. The course of the Rhine below Mainz
+becomes much more picturesque. The river descends rapidly and winds
+between hills, not high, but steep, and of beautiful forms. We saw
+many ruined castles standing on the edges of precipices, surrounded by
+black woods, high and inaccessible. This part of the Rhine, indeed,
+presents a singularly variegated landscape. In one spot you view
+rugged hills, ruined castles overlooking tremendous precipices, with
+the dark Rhine rushing beneath; and on the sudden turn of a promontory,
+flourishing vineyards with green sloping banks and a meandering river
+and populous towns occupy the scene.
+
+We travelled at the time of the vintage and heard the song of the labourers
+as we glided down the stream. Even I, depressed in mind, and my spirits
+continually agitated by gloomy feelings, even I was pleased. I lay at the
+bottom of the boat, and as I gazed on the cloudless blue sky, I seemed to
+drink in a tranquillity to which I had long been a stranger. And if these
+were my sensations, who can describe those of Henry? He felt as if he had
+been transported to Fairy-land and enjoyed a happiness seldom tasted by
+man. “I have seen,” he said, “the most beautiful scenes
+of my own country; I have visited the lakes of Lucerne and Uri, where the
+snowy mountains descend almost perpendicularly to the water, casting black
+and impenetrable shades, which would cause a gloomy and mournful appearance
+were it not for the most verdant islands that relieve the eye by their gay
+appearance; I have seen this lake agitated by a tempest, when the wind tore
+up whirlwinds of water and gave you an idea of what the water-spout must be
+on the great ocean; and the waves dash with fury the base of the mountain,
+where the priest and his mistress were overwhelmed by an avalanche and
+where their dying voices are still said to be heard amid the pauses of the
+nightly wind; I have seen the mountains of La Valais, and the Pays de Vaud;
+but this country, Victor, pleases me more than all those wonders. The
+mountains of Switzerland are more majestic and strange, but there is a
+charm in the banks of this divine river that I never before saw equalled.
+Look at that castle which overhangs yon precipice; and that also on the
+island, almost concealed amongst the foliage of those lovely trees; and now
+that group of labourers coming from among their vines; and that village
+half hid in the recess of the mountain. Oh, surely the spirit that inhabits
+and guards this place has a soul more in harmony with man than those who
+pile the glacier or retire to the inaccessible peaks of the mountains of
+our own country.”
+
+Clerval! Beloved friend! Even now it delights me to record your words and
+to dwell on the praise of which you are so eminently deserving. He was a
+being formed in the “very poetry of nature.” His wild and
+enthusiastic imagination was chastened by the sensibility of his heart. His
+soul overflowed with ardent affections, and his friendship was of that
+devoted and wondrous nature that the worldly-minded teach us to look for only
+in the imagination. But even human sympathies were not sufficient to
+satisfy his eager mind. The scenery of external nature, which others regard
+only with admiration, he loved with ardour:—
+
+    ——The sounding cataract
+    Haunted him like a passion: the tall rock,
+    The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
+    Their colours and their forms, were then to him
+    An appetite; a feeling, and a love,
+    That had no need of a remoter charm,
+    By thought supplied, or any interest
+    Unborrow’d from the eye.
+
+          [Wordsworth’s “Tintern Abbey”.]
+
+And where does he now exist? Is this gentle and lovely being lost
+for ever? Has this mind, so replete with ideas, imaginations fanciful
+and magnificent, which formed a world, whose existence depended on the
+life of its creator;—has this mind perished? Does it now only exist
+in my memory? No, it is not thus; your form so divinely wrought, and
+beaming with beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits and
+consoles your unhappy friend.
+
+Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slight
+tribute to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart,
+overflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates. I will
+proceed with my tale.
+
+Beyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolved to
+post the remainder of our way, for the wind was contrary and the stream of
+the river was too gentle to aid us.
+
+Our journey here lost the interest arising from beautiful scenery, but we
+arrived in a few days at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea to England.
+It was on a clear morning, in the latter days of December, that I first saw
+the white cliffs of Britain. The banks of the Thames presented a new scene;
+they were flat but fertile, and almost every town was marked by the
+remembrance of some story. We saw Tilbury Fort and remembered the Spanish
+Armada, Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich—places which I had heard
+of even in my country.
+
+At length we saw the numerous steeples of London, St. Paul’s towering
+above all, and the Tower famed in English history.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 19
+
+
+London was our present point of rest; we determined to remain several
+months in this wonderful and celebrated city. Clerval desired the
+intercourse of the men of genius and talent who flourished at this
+time, but this was with me a secondary object; I was principally
+occupied with the means of obtaining the information necessary for the
+completion of my promise and quickly availed myself of the letters of
+introduction that I had brought with me, addressed to the most
+distinguished natural philosophers.
+
+If this journey had taken place during my days of study and happiness,
+it would have afforded me inexpressible pleasure. But a blight had
+come over my existence, and I only visited these people for the sake of
+the information they might give me on the subject in which my interest
+was so terribly profound. Company was irksome to me; when alone, I
+could fill my mind with the sights of heaven and earth; the voice of
+Henry soothed me, and I could thus cheat myself into a transitory
+peace. But busy, uninteresting, joyous faces brought back despair to
+my heart. I saw an insurmountable barrier placed between me and my
+fellow men; this barrier was sealed with the blood of William and
+Justine, and to reflect on the events connected with those names filled
+my soul with anguish.
+
+But in Clerval I saw the image of my former self; he was inquisitive
+and anxious to gain experience and instruction. The difference of
+manners which he observed was to him an inexhaustible source of
+instruction and amusement. He was also pursuing an object he had long
+had in view. His design was to visit India, in the belief that he had
+in his knowledge of its various languages, and in the views he had
+taken of its society, the means of materially assisting the progress of
+European colonization and trade. In Britain only could he further the
+execution of his plan. He was for ever busy, and the only check to his
+enjoyments was my sorrowful and dejected mind. I tried to conceal this
+as much as possible, that I might not debar him from the pleasures
+natural to one who was entering on a new scene of life, undisturbed by
+any care or bitter recollection. I often refused to accompany him,
+alleging another engagement, that I might remain alone. I now also
+began to collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and this
+was to me like the torture of single drops of water continually falling
+on the head. Every thought that was devoted to it was an extreme
+anguish, and every word that I spoke in allusion to it caused my lips
+to quiver, and my heart to palpitate.
+
+After passing some months in London, we received a letter from a person in
+Scotland who had formerly been our visitor at Geneva. He mentioned the
+beauties of his native country and asked us if those were not sufficient
+allurements to induce us to prolong our journey as far north as Perth,
+where he resided. Clerval eagerly desired to accept this invitation, and I,
+although I abhorred society, wished to view again mountains and streams and
+all the wondrous works with which Nature adorns her chosen dwelling-places.
+
+We had arrived in England at the beginning of October, and it was now
+February. We accordingly determined to commence our journey towards the
+north at the expiration of another month. In this expedition we did not
+intend to follow the great road to Edinburgh, but to visit Windsor, Oxford,
+Matlock, and the Cumberland lakes, resolving to arrive at the completion of
+this tour about the end of July. I packed up my chemical instruments and
+the materials I had collected, resolving to finish my labours in some
+obscure nook in the northern highlands of Scotland.
+
+We quitted London on the 27th of March and remained a few days at
+Windsor, rambling in its beautiful forest. This was a new scene to us
+mountaineers; the majestic oaks, the quantity of game, and the herds of
+stately deer were all novelties to us.
+
+From thence we proceeded to Oxford. As we entered this city, our minds
+were filled with the remembrance of the events that had been transacted
+there more than a century and a half before. It was here that Charles
+I. had collected his forces. This city had remained faithful to him,
+after the whole nation had forsaken his cause to join the standard of
+Parliament and liberty. The memory of that unfortunate king and his
+companions, the amiable Falkland, the insolent Goring, his queen, and
+son, gave a peculiar interest to every part of the city which they
+might be supposed to have inhabited. The spirit of elder days found a
+dwelling here, and we delighted to trace its footsteps. If these
+feelings had not found an imaginary gratification, the appearance of
+the city had yet in itself sufficient beauty to obtain our admiration.
+The colleges are ancient and picturesque; the streets are almost
+magnificent; and the lovely Isis, which flows beside it through meadows
+of exquisite verdure, is spread forth into a placid expanse of waters,
+which reflects its majestic assemblage of towers, and spires, and
+domes, embosomed among aged trees.
+
+I enjoyed this scene, and yet my enjoyment was embittered both by the
+memory of the past and the anticipation of the future. I was formed
+for peaceful happiness. During my youthful days discontent never
+visited my mind, and if I was ever overcome by _ennui_, the sight of what
+is beautiful in nature or the study of what is excellent and sublime in
+the productions of man could always interest my heart and communicate
+elasticity to my spirits. But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has
+entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit what
+I shall soon cease to be—a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity,
+pitiable to others and intolerable to myself.
+
+We passed a considerable period at Oxford, rambling among its environs
+and endeavouring to identify every spot which might relate to the most
+animating epoch of English history. Our little voyages of discovery
+were often prolonged by the successive objects that presented
+themselves. We visited the tomb of the illustrious Hampden and the
+field on which that patriot fell. For a moment my soul was elevated
+from its debasing and miserable fears to contemplate the divine ideas
+of liberty and self-sacrifice of which these sights were the monuments
+and the remembrancers. For an instant I dared to shake off my chains
+and look around me with a free and lofty spirit, but the iron had eaten
+into my flesh, and I sank again, trembling and hopeless, into my
+miserable self.
+
+We left Oxford with regret and proceeded to Matlock, which was our next
+place of rest. The country in the neighbourhood of this village
+resembled, to a greater degree, the scenery of Switzerland; but
+everything is on a lower scale, and the green hills want the crown of
+distant white Alps which always attend on the piny mountains of my
+native country. We visited the wondrous cave and the little cabinets
+of natural history, where the curiosities are disposed in the same
+manner as in the collections at Servox and Chamounix. The latter name
+made me tremble when pronounced by Henry, and I hastened to quit
+Matlock, with which that terrible scene was thus associated.
+
+From Derby, still journeying northwards, we passed two months in
+Cumberland and Westmorland. I could now almost fancy myself among the
+Swiss mountains. The little patches of snow which yet lingered on the
+northern sides of the mountains, the lakes, and the dashing of the
+rocky streams were all familiar and dear sights to me. Here also we
+made some acquaintances, who almost contrived to cheat me into
+happiness. The delight of Clerval was proportionably greater than
+mine; his mind expanded in the company of men of talent, and he found
+in his own nature greater capacities and resources than he could have
+imagined himself to have possessed while he associated with his
+inferiors. “I could pass my life here,” said he to me; “and among
+these mountains I should scarcely regret Switzerland and the Rhine.”
+
+But he found that a traveller’s life is one that includes much pain
+amidst its enjoyments. His feelings are for ever on the stretch; and
+when he begins to sink into repose, he finds himself obliged to quit
+that on which he rests in pleasure for something new, which again
+engages his attention, and which also he forsakes for other novelties.
+
+We had scarcely visited the various lakes of Cumberland and Westmorland
+and conceived an affection for some of the inhabitants when the period
+of our appointment with our Scotch friend approached, and we left them
+to travel on. For my own part I was not sorry. I had now neglected my
+promise for some time, and I feared the effects of the dæmon’s
+disappointment. He might remain in Switzerland and wreak his vengeance
+on my relatives. This idea pursued me and tormented me at every moment
+from which I might otherwise have snatched repose and peace. I waited
+for my letters with feverish impatience; if they were delayed I was
+miserable and overcome by a thousand fears; and when they arrived and I
+saw the superscription of Elizabeth or my father, I hardly dared to
+read and ascertain my fate. Sometimes I thought that the fiend
+followed me and might expedite my remissness by murdering my companion.
+When these thoughts possessed me, I would not quit Henry for a moment,
+but followed him as his shadow, to protect him from the fancied rage of
+his destroyer. I felt as if I had committed some great crime, the
+consciousness of which haunted me. I was guiltless, but I had indeed
+drawn down a horrible curse upon my head, as mortal as that of crime.
+
+I visited Edinburgh with languid eyes and mind; and yet that city might
+have interested the most unfortunate being. Clerval did not like it so well
+as Oxford, for the antiquity of the latter city was more pleasing to him.
+But the beauty and regularity of the new town of Edinburgh, its romantic
+castle and its environs, the most delightful in the world, Arthur’s
+Seat, St. Bernard’s Well, and the Pentland Hills, compensated him for
+the change and filled him with cheerfulness and admiration. But I was
+impatient to arrive at the termination of my journey.
+
+We left Edinburgh in a week, passing through Coupar, St. Andrew’s, and
+along the banks of the Tay, to Perth, where our friend expected us.
+But I was in no mood to laugh and talk with strangers or enter into
+their feelings or plans with the good humour expected from a guest; and
+accordingly I told Clerval that I wished to make the tour of Scotland
+alone. “Do you,” said I, “enjoy yourself, and let this be our
+rendezvous. I may be absent a month or two; but do not interfere with
+my motions, I entreat you; leave me to peace and solitude for a short
+time; and when I return, I hope it will be with a lighter heart, more
+congenial to your own temper.”
+
+Henry wished to dissuade me, but seeing me bent on this plan, ceased to
+remonstrate. He entreated me to write often. “I had rather be with
+you,” he said, “in your solitary rambles, than with these Scotch
+people, whom I do not know; hasten, then, my dear friend, to return,
+that I may again feel myself somewhat at home, which I cannot do in
+your absence.”
+
+Having parted from my friend, I determined to visit some remote spot of
+Scotland and finish my work in solitude. I did not doubt but that the
+monster followed me and would discover himself to me when I should have
+finished, that he might receive his companion.
+
+With this resolution I traversed the northern highlands and fixed on one of
+the remotest of the Orkneys as the scene of my labours. It was a place
+fitted for such a work, being hardly more than a rock whose high sides were
+continually beaten upon by the waves. The soil was barren, scarcely
+affording pasture for a few miserable cows, and oatmeal for its
+inhabitants, which consisted of five persons, whose gaunt and scraggy limbs
+gave tokens of their miserable fare. Vegetables and bread, when they
+indulged in such luxuries, and even fresh water, was to be procured from
+the mainland, which was about five miles distant.
+
+On the whole island there were but three miserable huts, and one of
+these was vacant when I arrived. This I hired. It contained but two
+rooms, and these exhibited all the squalidness of the most miserable
+penury. The thatch had fallen in, the walls were unplastered, and the
+door was off its hinges. I ordered it to be repaired, bought some
+furniture, and took possession, an incident which would doubtless have
+occasioned some surprise had not all the senses of the cottagers been
+benumbed by want and squalid poverty. As it was, I lived ungazed at
+and unmolested, hardly thanked for the pittance of food and clothes
+which I gave, so much does suffering blunt even the coarsest sensations
+of men.
+
+In this retreat I devoted the morning to labour; but in the evening,
+when the weather permitted, I walked on the stony beach of the sea to
+listen to the waves as they roared and dashed at my feet. It was a
+monotonous yet ever-changing scene. I thought of Switzerland; it was
+far different from this desolate and appalling landscape. Its hills
+are covered with vines, and its cottages are scattered thickly in the
+plains. Its fair lakes reflect a blue and gentle sky, and when
+troubled by the winds, their tumult is but as the play of a lively
+infant when compared to the roarings of the giant ocean.
+
+In this manner I distributed my occupations when I first arrived, but
+as I proceeded in my labour, it became every day more horrible and
+irksome to me. Sometimes I could not prevail on myself to enter my
+laboratory for several days, and at other times I toiled day and night
+in order to complete my work. It was, indeed, a filthy process in
+which I was engaged. During my first experiment, a kind of
+enthusiastic frenzy had blinded me to the horror of my employment; my
+mind was intently fixed on the consummation of my labour, and my eyes
+were shut to the horror of my proceedings. But now I went to it in
+cold blood, and my heart often sickened at the work of my hands.
+
+Thus situated, employed in the most detestable occupation, immersed in
+a solitude where nothing could for an instant call my attention from
+the actual scene in which I was engaged, my spirits became unequal; I
+grew restless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet my
+persecutor. Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing
+to raise them lest they should encounter the object which I so much
+dreaded to behold. I feared to wander from the sight of my fellow
+creatures lest when alone he should come to claim his companion.
+
+In the mean time I worked on, and my labour was already considerably
+advanced. I looked towards its completion with a tremulous and eager
+hope, which I dared not trust myself to question but which was
+intermixed with obscure forebodings of evil that made my heart sicken
+in my bosom.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 20
+
+
+I sat one evening in my laboratory; the sun had set, and the moon was just
+rising from the sea; I had not sufficient light for my employment, and I
+remained idle, in a pause of consideration of whether I should leave my
+labour for the night or hasten its conclusion by an unremitting attention
+to it. As I sat, a train of reflection occurred to me which led me to
+consider the effects of what I was now doing. Three years before, I was
+engaged in the same manner and had created a fiend whose unparalleled
+barbarity had desolated my heart and filled it for ever with the bitterest
+remorse. I was now about to form another being of whose dispositions I was
+alike ignorant; she might become ten thousand times more malignant than her
+mate and delight, for its own sake, in murder and wretchedness. He had
+sworn to quit the neighbourhood of man and hide himself in deserts, but she
+had not; and she, who in all probability was to become a thinking and
+reasoning animal, might refuse to comply with a compact made before her
+creation. They might even hate each other; the creature who already lived
+loathed his own deformity, and might he not conceive a greater abhorrence
+for it when it came before his eyes in the female form? She also might turn
+with disgust from him to the superior beauty of man; she might quit him,
+and he be again alone, exasperated by the fresh provocation of being
+deserted by one of his own species.
+
+Even if they were to leave Europe and inhabit the deserts of the new world,
+yet one of the first results of those sympathies for which the dæmon
+thirsted would be children, and a race of devils would be propagated upon
+the earth who might make the very existence of the species of man a
+condition precarious and full of terror. Had I right, for my own benefit,
+to inflict this curse upon everlasting generations? I had before been moved
+by the sophisms of the being I had created; I had been struck senseless by
+his fiendish threats; but now, for the first time, the wickedness of my
+promise burst upon me; I shuddered to think that future ages might curse me
+as their pest, whose selfishness had not hesitated to buy its own peace at
+the price, perhaps, of the existence of the whole human race.
+
+I trembled and my heart failed within me, when, on looking up, I saw by
+the light of the moon the dæmon at the casement. A ghastly grin
+wrinkled his lips as he gazed on me, where I sat fulfilling the task
+which he had allotted to me. Yes, he had followed me in my travels; he
+had loitered in forests, hid himself in caves, or taken refuge in wide
+and desert heaths; and he now came to mark my progress and claim the
+fulfilment of my promise.
+
+As I looked on him, his countenance expressed the utmost extent of
+malice and treachery. I thought with a sensation of madness on my
+promise of creating another like to him, and trembling with passion,
+tore to pieces the thing on which I was engaged. The wretch saw me
+destroy the creature on whose future existence he depended for
+happiness, and with a howl of devilish despair and revenge, withdrew.
+
+I left the room, and locking the door, made a solemn vow in my own
+heart never to resume my labours; and then, with trembling steps, I
+sought my own apartment. I was alone; none were near me to dissipate
+the gloom and relieve me from the sickening oppression of the most
+terrible reveries.
+
+Several hours passed, and I remained near my window gazing on the sea;
+it was almost motionless, for the winds were hushed, and all nature
+reposed under the eye of the quiet moon. A few fishing vessels alone
+specked the water, and now and then the gentle breeze wafted the sound
+of voices as the fishermen called to one another. I felt the silence,
+although I was hardly conscious of its extreme profundity, until my ear
+was suddenly arrested by the paddling of oars near the shore, and a
+person landed close to my house.
+
+In a few minutes after, I heard the creaking of my door, as if some one
+endeavoured to open it softly. I trembled from head to foot; I felt a
+presentiment of who it was and wished to rouse one of the peasants who
+dwelt in a cottage not far from mine; but I was overcome by the sensation
+of helplessness, so often felt in frightful dreams, when you in vain
+endeavour to fly from an impending danger, and was rooted to the spot.
+
+Presently I heard the sound of footsteps along the passage; the door
+opened, and the wretch whom I dreaded appeared. Shutting the door, he
+approached me and said in a smothered voice,
+
+“You have destroyed the work which you began; what is it that you
+intend? Do you dare to break your promise? I have endured toil and misery;
+I left Switzerland with you; I crept along the shores of the Rhine, among
+its willow islands and over the summits of its hills. I have dwelt many
+months in the heaths of England and among the deserts of Scotland. I have
+endured incalculable fatigue, and cold, and hunger; do you dare destroy my
+hopes?”
+
+“Begone! I do break my promise; never will I create another like
+yourself, equal in deformity and wickedness.”
+
+“Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself
+unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power; you believe
+yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of
+day will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your master;
+obey!”
+
+“The hour of my irresolution is past, and the period of your power is
+arrived. Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness; but
+they confirm me in a determination of not creating you a companion in
+vice. Shall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a dæmon whose
+delight is in death and wretchedness? Begone! I am firm, and your
+words will only exasperate my rage.”
+
+The monster saw my determination in my face and gnashed his teeth in the
+impotence of anger. “Shall each man,” cried he, “find a
+wife for his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had
+feelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn.
+Man! You may hate, but beware! Your hours will pass in dread and misery,
+and soon the bolt will fall which must ravish from you your happiness for
+ever. Are you to be happy while I grovel in the intensity of my
+wretchedness? You can blast my other passions, but revenge
+remains—revenge, henceforth dearer than light or food! I may die, but
+first you, my tyrant and tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on your
+misery. Beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful. I will watch with
+the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom. Man, you shall
+repent of the injuries you inflict.”
+
+“Devil, cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice.
+I have declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend
+beneath words. Leave me; I am inexorable.”
+
+“It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your
+wedding-night.”
+
+I started forward and exclaimed, “Villain! Before you sign my
+death-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe.”
+
+I would have seized him, but he eluded me and quitted the house with
+precipitation. In a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shot
+across the waters with an arrowy swiftness and was soon lost amidst the
+waves.
+
+All was again silent, but his words rang in my ears. I burned with rage to
+pursue the murderer of my peace and precipitate him into the ocean. I
+walked up and down my room hastily and perturbed, while my imagination
+conjured up a thousand images to torment and sting me. Why had I not
+followed him and closed with him in mortal strife? But I had suffered him
+to depart, and he had directed his course towards the mainland. I shuddered
+to think who might be the next victim sacrificed to his insatiate revenge.
+And then I thought again of his words—“_I will be with you on
+your wedding-night._” That, then, was the period fixed for the
+fulfilment of my destiny. In that hour I should die and at once satisfy and
+extinguish his malice. The prospect did not move me to fear; yet when I
+thought of my beloved Elizabeth, of her tears and endless sorrow, when she
+should find her lover so barbarously snatched from her, tears, the first I
+had shed for many months, streamed from my eyes, and I resolved not to fall
+before my enemy without a bitter struggle.
+
+The night passed away, and the sun rose from the ocean; my feelings became
+calmer, if it may be called calmness when the violence of rage sinks into
+the depths of despair. I left the house, the horrid scene of the last
+night’s contention, and walked on the beach of the sea, which I
+almost regarded as an insuperable barrier between me and my fellow
+creatures; nay, a wish that such should prove the fact stole across me. I
+desired that I might pass my life on that barren rock, wearily, it is true,
+but uninterrupted by any sudden shock of misery. If I returned, it was to
+be sacrificed or to see those whom I most loved die under the grasp of a
+dæmon whom I had myself created.
+
+I walked about the isle like a restless spectre, separated from all it
+loved and miserable in the separation. When it became noon, and the
+sun rose higher, I lay down on the grass and was overpowered by a deep
+sleep. I had been awake the whole of the preceding night, my nerves
+were agitated, and my eyes inflamed by watching and misery. The sleep
+into which I now sank refreshed me; and when I awoke, I again felt as
+if I belonged to a race of human beings like myself, and I began to
+reflect upon what had passed with greater composure; yet still the
+words of the fiend rang in my ears like a death-knell; they appeared
+like a dream, yet distinct and oppressive as a reality.
+
+The sun had far descended, and I still sat on the shore, satisfying my
+appetite, which had become ravenous, with an oaten cake, when I saw a
+fishing-boat land close to me, and one of the men brought me a packet;
+it contained letters from Geneva, and one from Clerval entreating me to
+join him. He said that he was wearing away his time fruitlessly where
+he was, that letters from the friends he had formed in London desired
+his return to complete the negotiation they had entered into for his
+Indian enterprise. He could not any longer delay his departure; but as
+his journey to London might be followed, even sooner than he now
+conjectured, by his longer voyage, he entreated me to bestow as much of
+my society on him as I could spare. He besought me, therefore, to
+leave my solitary isle and to meet him at Perth, that we might proceed
+southwards together. This letter in a degree recalled me to life, and
+I determined to quit my island at the expiration of two days.
+
+Yet, before I departed, there was a task to perform, on which I shuddered
+to reflect; I must pack up my chemical instruments, and for that purpose I
+must enter the room which had been the scene of my odious work, and I must
+handle those utensils the sight of which was sickening to me. The next
+morning, at daybreak, I summoned sufficient courage and unlocked the door
+of my laboratory. The remains of the half-finished creature, whom I had
+destroyed, lay scattered on the floor, and I almost felt as if I had
+mangled the living flesh of a human being. I paused to collect myself and
+then entered the chamber. With trembling hand I conveyed the instruments
+out of the room, but I reflected that I ought not to leave the relics of my
+work to excite the horror and suspicion of the peasants; and I accordingly
+put them into a basket, with a great quantity of stones, and laying them
+up, determined to throw them into the sea that very night; and in the
+meantime I sat upon the beach, employed in cleaning and arranging my
+chemical apparatus.
+
+Nothing could be more complete than the alteration that had taken place
+in my feelings since the night of the appearance of the dæmon. I had
+before regarded my promise with a gloomy despair as a thing that, with
+whatever consequences, must be fulfilled; but I now felt as if a film
+had been taken from before my eyes and that I for the first time saw
+clearly. The idea of renewing my labours did not for one instant occur
+to me; the threat I had heard weighed on my thoughts, but I did not
+reflect that a voluntary act of mine could avert it. I had resolved in
+my own mind that to create another like the fiend I had first made
+would be an act of the basest and most atrocious selfishness, and I
+banished from my mind every thought that could lead to a different
+conclusion.
+
+Between two and three in the morning the moon rose; and I then, putting my
+basket aboard a little skiff, sailed out about four miles from the shore.
+The scene was perfectly solitary; a few boats were returning towards land,
+but I sailed away from them. I felt as if I was about the commission of a
+dreadful crime and avoided with shuddering anxiety any encounter with my
+fellow creatures. At one time the moon, which had before been clear, was
+suddenly overspread by a thick cloud, and I took advantage of the moment of
+darkness and cast my basket into the sea; I listened to the gurgling sound
+as it sank and then sailed away from the spot. The sky became clouded, but
+the air was pure, although chilled by the northeast breeze that was then
+rising. But it refreshed me and filled me with such agreeable sensations
+that I resolved to prolong my stay on the water, and fixing the rudder in a
+direct position, stretched myself at the bottom of the boat. Clouds hid the
+moon, everything was obscure, and I heard only the sound of the boat as its
+keel cut through the waves; the murmur lulled me, and in a short time I
+slept soundly.
+
+I do not know how long I remained in this situation, but when I awoke I
+found that the sun had already mounted considerably. The wind was high, and
+the waves continually threatened the safety of my little skiff. I found
+that the wind was northeast and must have driven me far from the coast from
+which I had embarked. I endeavoured to change my course but quickly found
+that if I again made the attempt the boat would be instantly filled with
+water. Thus situated, my only resource was to drive before the wind. I
+confess that I felt a few sensations of terror. I had no compass with me
+and was so slenderly acquainted with the geography of this part of the
+world that the sun was of little benefit to me. I might be driven into the
+wide Atlantic and feel all the tortures of starvation or be swallowed up in
+the immeasurable waters that roared and buffeted around me. I had already
+been out many hours and felt the torment of a burning thirst, a prelude to
+my other sufferings. I looked on the heavens, which were covered by clouds
+that flew before the wind, only to be replaced by others; I looked upon the
+sea; it was to be my grave. “Fiend,” I exclaimed, “your
+task is already fulfilled!” I thought of Elizabeth, of my father, and
+of Clerval—all left behind, on whom the monster might satisfy his
+sanguinary and merciless passions. This idea plunged me into a reverie so
+despairing and frightful that even now, when the scene is on the point of
+closing before me for ever, I shudder to reflect on it.
+
+Some hours passed thus; but by degrees, as the sun declined towards the
+horizon, the wind died away into a gentle breeze and the sea became
+free from breakers. But these gave place to a heavy swell; I felt sick
+and hardly able to hold the rudder, when suddenly I saw a line of high
+land towards the south.
+
+Almost spent, as I was, by fatigue and the dreadful suspense I endured
+for several hours, this sudden certainty of life rushed like a flood of
+warm joy to my heart, and tears gushed from my eyes.
+
+How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we have
+of life even in the excess of misery! I constructed another sail with a
+part of my dress and eagerly steered my course towards the land. It had a
+wild and rocky appearance, but as I approached nearer I easily perceived
+the traces of cultivation. I saw vessels near the shore and found myself
+suddenly transported back to the neighbourhood of civilised man. I
+carefully traced the windings of the land and hailed a steeple which I at
+length saw issuing from behind a small promontory. As I was in a state of
+extreme debility, I resolved to sail directly towards the town, as a place
+where I could most easily procure nourishment. Fortunately I had money with
+me. As I turned the promontory I perceived a small neat town and a good
+harbour, which I entered, my heart bounding with joy at my unexpected
+escape.
+
+As I was occupied in fixing the boat and arranging the sails, several
+people crowded towards the spot. They seemed much surprised at my
+appearance, but instead of offering me any assistance, whispered
+together with gestures that at any other time might have produced in me
+a slight sensation of alarm. As it was, I merely remarked that they
+spoke English, and I therefore addressed them in that language. “My
+good friends,” said I, “will you be so kind as to tell me the name of
+this town and inform me where I am?”
+
+“You will know that soon enough,” replied a man with a hoarse voice.
+“Maybe you are come to a place that will not prove much to your taste,
+but you will not be consulted as to your quarters, I promise you.”
+
+I was exceedingly surprised on receiving so rude an answer from a
+stranger, and I was also disconcerted on perceiving the frowning and
+angry countenances of his companions. “Why do you answer me so
+roughly?” I replied. “Surely it is not the custom of Englishmen to
+receive strangers so inhospitably.”
+
+“I do not know,” said the man, “what the custom of the
+English may be, but it is the custom of the Irish to hate villains.”
+
+While this strange dialogue continued, I perceived the crowd rapidly
+increase. Their faces expressed a mixture of curiosity and anger, which
+annoyed and in some degree alarmed me. I inquired the way to the inn, but
+no one replied. I then moved forward, and a murmuring sound arose from the
+crowd as they followed and surrounded me, when an ill-looking man
+approaching tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Come, sir, you must
+follow me to Mr. Kirwin’s to give an account of yourself.”
+
+“Who is Mr. Kirwin? Why am I to give an account of myself? Is not
+this a free country?”
+
+“Ay, sir, free enough for honest folks. Mr. Kirwin is a magistrate,
+and you are to give an account of the death of a gentleman who was
+found murdered here last night.”
+
+This answer startled me, but I presently recovered myself. I was innocent;
+that could easily be proved; accordingly I followed my conductor in silence
+and was led to one of the best houses in the town. I was ready to sink from
+fatigue and hunger, but being surrounded by a crowd, I thought it politic
+to rouse all my strength, that no physical debility might be construed into
+apprehension or conscious guilt. Little did I then expect the calamity that
+was in a few moments to overwhelm me and extinguish in horror and despair
+all fear of ignominy or death.
+
+I must pause here, for it requires all my fortitude to recall the memory of
+the frightful events which I am about to relate, in proper detail, to my
+recollection.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 21
+
+
+I was soon introduced into the presence of the magistrate, an old
+benevolent man with calm and mild manners. He looked upon me, however,
+with some degree of severity, and then, turning towards my conductors,
+he asked who appeared as witnesses on this occasion.
+
+About half a dozen men came forward; and, one being selected by the
+magistrate, he deposed that he had been out fishing the night before with
+his son and brother-in-law, Daniel Nugent, when, about ten o’clock,
+they observed a strong northerly blast rising, and they accordingly put in
+for port. It was a very dark night, as the moon had not yet risen; they did
+not land at the harbour, but, as they had been accustomed, at a creek about
+two miles below. He walked on first, carrying a part of the fishing tackle,
+and his companions followed him at some distance. As he was proceeding
+along the sands, he struck his foot against something and fell at his
+length on the ground. His companions came up to assist him, and by the
+light of their lantern they found that he had fallen on the body of a man,
+who was to all appearance dead. Their first supposition was that it was the
+corpse of some person who had been drowned and was thrown on shore by the
+waves, but on examination they found that the clothes were not wet and even
+that the body was not then cold. They instantly carried it to the cottage
+of an old woman near the spot and endeavoured, but in vain, to restore it
+to life. It appeared to be a handsome young man, about five and twenty
+years of age. He had apparently been strangled, for there was no sign of
+any violence except the black mark of fingers on his neck.
+
+The first part of this deposition did not in the least interest me, but
+when the mark of the fingers was mentioned I remembered the murder of
+my brother and felt myself extremely agitated; my limbs trembled, and a
+mist came over my eyes, which obliged me to lean on a chair for
+support. The magistrate observed me with a keen eye and of course drew
+an unfavourable augury from my manner.
+
+The son confirmed his father’s account, but when Daniel Nugent was
+called he swore positively that just before the fall of his companion, he
+saw a boat, with a single man in it, at a short distance from the shore;
+and as far as he could judge by the light of a few stars, it was the same
+boat in which I had just landed.
+
+A woman deposed that she lived near the beach and was standing at the door
+of her cottage, waiting for the return of the fishermen, about an hour
+before she heard of the discovery of the body, when she saw a boat with
+only one man in it push off from that part of the shore where the corpse
+was afterwards found.
+
+Another woman confirmed the account of the fishermen having brought the
+body into her house; it was not cold. They put it into a bed and
+rubbed it, and Daniel went to the town for an apothecary, but life was
+quite gone.
+
+Several other men were examined concerning my landing, and they agreed
+that, with the strong north wind that had arisen during the night, it
+was very probable that I had beaten about for many hours and had been
+obliged to return nearly to the same spot from which I had departed.
+Besides, they observed that it appeared that I had brought the body
+from another place, and it was likely that as I did not appear to know
+the shore, I might have put into the harbour ignorant of the distance
+of the town of —— from the place where I had deposited the corpse.
+
+Mr. Kirwin, on hearing this evidence, desired that I should be taken into
+the room where the body lay for interment, that it might be observed what
+effect the sight of it would produce upon me. This idea was probably
+suggested by the extreme agitation I had exhibited when the mode of the
+murder had been described. I was accordingly conducted, by the magistrate
+and several other persons, to the inn. I could not help being struck by the
+strange coincidences that had taken place during this eventful night; but,
+knowing that I had been conversing with several persons in the island I had
+inhabited about the time that the body had been found, I was perfectly
+tranquil as to the consequences of the affair.
+
+I entered the room where the corpse lay and was led up to the coffin. How
+can I describe my sensations on beholding it? I feel yet parched with
+horror, nor can I reflect on that terrible moment without shuddering and
+agony. The examination, the presence of the magistrate and witnesses,
+passed like a dream from my memory when I saw the lifeless form of Henry
+Clerval stretched before me. I gasped for breath, and throwing myself on
+the body, I exclaimed, “Have my murderous machinations deprived you
+also, my dearest Henry, of life? Two I have already destroyed; other
+victims await their destiny; but you, Clerval, my friend, my
+benefactor—”
+
+The human frame could no longer support the agonies that I endured, and
+I was carried out of the room in strong convulsions.
+
+A fever succeeded to this. I lay for two months on the point of death; my
+ravings, as I afterwards heard, were frightful; I called myself the
+murderer of William, of Justine, and of Clerval. Sometimes I entreated my
+attendants to assist me in the destruction of the fiend by whom I was
+tormented; and at others I felt the fingers of the monster already grasping
+my neck, and screamed aloud with agony and terror. Fortunately, as I spoke
+my native language, Mr. Kirwin alone understood me; but my gestures and
+bitter cries were sufficient to affright the other witnesses.
+
+Why did I not die? More miserable than man ever was before, why did I not
+sink into forgetfulness and rest? Death snatches away many blooming
+children, the only hopes of their doting parents; how many brides and
+youthful lovers have been one day in the bloom of health and hope, and the
+next a prey for worms and the decay of the tomb! Of what materials was I
+made that I could thus resist so many shocks, which, like the turning of
+the wheel, continually renewed the torture?
+
+But I was doomed to live and in two months found myself as awaking from
+a dream, in a prison, stretched on a wretched bed, surrounded by
+gaolers, turnkeys, bolts, and all the miserable apparatus of a dungeon.
+It was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to understanding; I had
+forgotten the particulars of what had happened and only felt as if some
+great misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me; but when I looked around
+and saw the barred windows and the squalidness of the room in which I
+was, all flashed across my memory and I groaned bitterly.
+
+This sound disturbed an old woman who was sleeping in a chair beside
+me. She was a hired nurse, the wife of one of the turnkeys, and her
+countenance expressed all those bad qualities which often characterise
+that class. The lines of her face were hard and rude, like that of
+persons accustomed to see without sympathising in sights of misery. Her
+tone expressed her entire indifference; she addressed me in English,
+and the voice struck me as one that I had heard during my sufferings.
+
+“Are you better now, sir?” said she.
+
+I replied in the same language, with a feeble voice, “I believe I am;
+but if it be all true, if indeed I did not dream, I am sorry that I am
+still alive to feel this misery and horror.”
+
+“For that matter,” replied the old woman, “if you mean about the
+gentleman you murdered, I believe that it were better for you if you
+were dead, for I fancy it will go hard with you! However, that’s none
+of my business; I am sent to nurse you and get you well; I do my duty
+with a safe conscience; it were well if everybody did the same.”
+
+I turned with loathing from the woman who could utter so unfeeling a
+speech to a person just saved, on the very edge of death; but I felt
+languid and unable to reflect on all that had passed. The whole series
+of my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed it
+were all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the force
+of reality.
+
+As the images that floated before me became more distinct, I grew
+feverish; a darkness pressed around me; no one was near me who soothed
+me with the gentle voice of love; no dear hand supported me. The
+physician came and prescribed medicines, and the old woman prepared
+them for me; but utter carelessness was visible in the first, and the
+expression of brutality was strongly marked in the visage of the
+second. Who could be interested in the fate of a murderer but the
+hangman who would gain his fee?
+
+These were my first reflections, but I soon learned that Mr. Kirwin had
+shown me extreme kindness. He had caused the best room in the prison
+to be prepared for me (wretched indeed was the best); and it was he who
+had provided a physician and a nurse. It is true, he seldom came to
+see me, for although he ardently desired to relieve the sufferings of
+every human creature, he did not wish to be present at the agonies and
+miserable ravings of a murderer. He came, therefore, sometimes to see
+that I was not neglected, but his visits were short and with long
+intervals.
+
+One day, while I was gradually recovering, I was seated in a chair, my eyes
+half open and my cheeks livid like those in death. I was overcome by gloom
+and misery and often reflected I had better seek death than desire to
+remain in a world which to me was replete with wretchedness. At one time I
+considered whether I should not declare myself guilty and suffer the
+penalty of the law, less innocent than poor Justine had been. Such were my
+thoughts when the door of my apartment was opened and Mr. Kirwin entered.
+His countenance expressed sympathy and compassion; he drew a chair close to
+mine and addressed me in French,
+
+“I fear that this place is very shocking to you; can I do anything to
+make you more comfortable?”
+
+“I thank you, but all that you mention is nothing to me; on the whole
+earth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving.”
+
+“I know that the sympathy of a stranger can be but of little relief to
+one borne down as you are by so strange a misfortune. But you will, I
+hope, soon quit this melancholy abode, for doubtless evidence can
+easily be brought to free you from the criminal charge.”
+
+“That is my least concern; I am, by a course of strange events, become
+the most miserable of mortals. Persecuted and tortured as I am and
+have been, can death be any evil to me?”
+
+“Nothing indeed could be more unfortunate and agonising than the
+strange chances that have lately occurred. You were thrown, by some
+surprising accident, on this shore, renowned for its hospitality,
+seized immediately, and charged with murder. The first sight that was
+presented to your eyes was the body of your friend, murdered in so
+unaccountable a manner and placed, as it were, by some fiend across
+your path.”
+
+As Mr. Kirwin said this, notwithstanding the agitation I endured on
+this retrospect of my sufferings, I also felt considerable surprise at
+the knowledge he seemed to possess concerning me. I suppose some
+astonishment was exhibited in my countenance, for Mr. Kirwin hastened
+to say,
+
+“Immediately upon your being taken ill, all the papers that were on
+your person were brought me, and I examined them that I might discover some
+trace by which I could send to your relations an account of your misfortune
+and illness. I found several letters, and, among others, one which I
+discovered from its commencement to be from your father. I instantly wrote
+to Geneva; nearly two months have elapsed since the departure of my letter.
+But you are ill; even now you tremble; you are unfit for agitation of any
+kind.”
+
+“This suspense is a thousand times worse than the most horrible event;
+tell me what new scene of death has been acted, and whose murder I am
+now to lament?”
+
+“Your family is perfectly well,” said Mr. Kirwin with
+gentleness; “and someone, a friend, is come to visit you.”
+
+I know not by what chain of thought the idea presented itself, but it
+instantly darted into my mind that the murderer had come to mock at my
+misery and taunt me with the death of Clerval, as a new incitement for
+me to comply with his hellish desires. I put my hand before my eyes,
+and cried out in agony,
+
+“Oh! Take him away! I cannot see him; for God’s sake, do not
+let him enter!”
+
+Mr. Kirwin regarded me with a troubled countenance. He could not help
+regarding my exclamation as a presumption of my guilt and said in
+rather a severe tone,
+
+“I should have thought, young man, that the presence of your father
+would have been welcome instead of inspiring such violent repugnance.”
+
+“My father!” cried I, while every feature and every muscle was relaxed
+from anguish to pleasure. “Is my father indeed come? How kind, how
+very kind! But where is he, why does he not hasten to me?”
+
+My change of manner surprised and pleased the magistrate; perhaps he
+thought that my former exclamation was a momentary return of delirium,
+and now he instantly resumed his former benevolence. He rose and
+quitted the room with my nurse, and in a moment my father entered it.
+
+Nothing, at this moment, could have given me greater pleasure than the
+arrival of my father. I stretched out my hand to him and cried,
+
+“Are you then safe—and Elizabeth—and Ernest?”
+
+My father calmed me with assurances of their welfare and endeavoured, by
+dwelling on these subjects so interesting to my heart, to raise my
+desponding spirits; but he soon felt that a prison cannot be the abode of
+cheerfulness. “What a place is this that you inhabit, my son!”
+said he, looking mournfully at the barred windows and wretched appearance
+of the room. “You travelled to seek happiness, but a fatality seems
+to pursue you. And poor Clerval—”
+
+The name of my unfortunate and murdered friend was an agitation too
+great to be endured in my weak state; I shed tears.
+
+“Alas! Yes, my father,” replied I; “some destiny of the
+most horrible kind hangs over me, and I must live to fulfil it, or surely I
+should have died on the coffin of Henry.”
+
+We were not allowed to converse for any length of time, for the
+precarious state of my health rendered every precaution necessary that
+could ensure tranquillity. Mr. Kirwin came in and insisted that my
+strength should not be exhausted by too much exertion. But the
+appearance of my father was to me like that of my good angel, and I
+gradually recovered my health.
+
+As my sickness quitted me, I was absorbed by a gloomy and black
+melancholy that nothing could dissipate. The image of Clerval was
+for ever before me, ghastly and murdered. More than once the agitation
+into which these reflections threw me made my friends dread a dangerous
+relapse. Alas! Why did they preserve so miserable and detested a
+life? It was surely that I might fulfil my destiny, which is now
+drawing to a close. Soon, oh, very soon, will death extinguish these
+throbbings and relieve me from the mighty weight of anguish that bears
+me to the dust; and, in executing the award of justice, I shall also
+sink to rest. Then the appearance of death was distant, although the
+wish was ever present to my thoughts; and I often sat for hours
+motionless and speechless, wishing for some mighty revolution that
+might bury me and my destroyer in its ruins.
+
+The season of the assizes approached. I had already been three months
+in prison, and although I was still weak and in continual danger of a
+relapse, I was obliged to travel nearly a hundred miles to the country
+town where the court was held. Mr. Kirwin charged himself with every
+care of collecting witnesses and arranging my defence. I was spared
+the disgrace of appearing publicly as a criminal, as the case was not
+brought before the court that decides on life and death. The grand
+jury rejected the bill, on its being proved that I was on the Orkney
+Islands at the hour the body of my friend was found; and a fortnight
+after my removal I was liberated from prison.
+
+My father was enraptured on finding me freed from the vexations of a
+criminal charge, that I was again allowed to breathe the fresh
+atmosphere and permitted to return to my native country. I did not
+participate in these feelings, for to me the walls of a dungeon or a
+palace were alike hateful. The cup of life was poisoned for ever, and
+although the sun shone upon me, as upon the happy and gay of heart, I
+saw around me nothing but a dense and frightful darkness, penetrated by
+no light but the glimmer of two eyes that glared upon me. Sometimes
+they were the expressive eyes of Henry, languishing in death, the dark
+orbs nearly covered by the lids and the long black lashes that fringed
+them; sometimes it was the watery, clouded eyes of the monster, as I
+first saw them in my chamber at Ingolstadt.
+
+My father tried to awaken in me the feelings of affection. He talked
+of Geneva, which I should soon visit, of Elizabeth and Ernest; but
+these words only drew deep groans from me. Sometimes, indeed, I felt a
+wish for happiness and thought with melancholy delight of my beloved
+cousin or longed, with a devouring _maladie du pays_, to see once more
+the blue lake and rapid Rhone, that had been so dear to me in early
+childhood; but my general state of feeling was a torpor in which a
+prison was as welcome a residence as the divinest scene in nature; and
+these fits were seldom interrupted but by paroxysms of anguish and
+despair. At these moments I often endeavoured to put an end to the
+existence I loathed, and it required unceasing attendance and vigilance
+to restrain me from committing some dreadful act of violence.
+
+Yet one duty remained to me, the recollection of which finally
+triumphed over my selfish despair. It was necessary that I should
+return without delay to Geneva, there to watch over the lives of those
+I so fondly loved and to lie in wait for the murderer, that if any
+chance led me to the place of his concealment, or if he dared again to
+blast me by his presence, I might, with unfailing aim, put an end to
+the existence of the monstrous image which I had endued with the
+mockery of a soul still more monstrous. My father still desired to
+delay our departure, fearful that I could not sustain the fatigues of a
+journey, for I was a shattered wreck—the shadow of a human being. My
+strength was gone. I was a mere skeleton, and fever night and day
+preyed upon my wasted frame.
+
+Still, as I urged our leaving Ireland with such inquietude and impatience,
+my father thought it best to yield. We took our passage on board a vessel
+bound for Havre-de-Grace and sailed with a fair wind from the Irish shores.
+It was midnight. I lay on the deck looking at the stars and listening to
+the dashing of the waves. I hailed the darkness that shut Ireland from my
+sight, and my pulse beat with a feverish joy when I reflected that I should
+soon see Geneva. The past appeared to me in the light of a frightful dream;
+yet the vessel in which I was, the wind that blew me from the detested
+shore of Ireland, and the sea which surrounded me, told me too forcibly
+that I was deceived by no vision and that Clerval, my friend and dearest
+companion, had fallen a victim to me and the monster of my creation. I
+repassed, in my memory, my whole life; my quiet happiness while residing
+with my family in Geneva, the death of my mother, and my departure for
+Ingolstadt. I remembered, shuddering, the mad enthusiasm that hurried me on
+to the creation of my hideous enemy, and I called to mind the night in
+which he first lived. I was unable to pursue the train of thought; a
+thousand feelings pressed upon me, and I wept bitterly.
+
+Ever since my recovery from the fever, I had been in the custom of taking
+every night a small quantity of laudanum, for it was by means of this drug
+only that I was enabled to gain the rest necessary for the preservation of
+life. Oppressed by the recollection of my various misfortunes, I now
+swallowed double my usual quantity and soon slept profoundly. But sleep did
+not afford me respite from thought and misery; my dreams presented a
+thousand objects that scared me. Towards morning I was possessed by a kind
+of nightmare; I felt the fiend’s grasp in my neck and could not free
+myself from it; groans and cries rang in my ears. My father, who was
+watching over me, perceiving my restlessness, awoke me; the dashing waves
+were around, the cloudy sky above, the fiend was not here: a sense of
+security, a feeling that a truce was established between the present hour
+and the irresistible, disastrous future imparted to me a kind of calm
+forgetfulness, of which the human mind is by its structure peculiarly
+susceptible.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 22
+
+
+The voyage came to an end. We landed, and proceeded to Paris. I soon
+found that I had overtaxed my strength and that I must repose before I
+could continue my journey. My father’s care and attentions were
+indefatigable, but he did not know the origin of my sufferings and
+sought erroneous methods to remedy the incurable ill. He wished me to
+seek amusement in society. I abhorred the face of man. Oh, not
+abhorred! They were my brethren, my fellow beings, and I felt
+attracted even to the most repulsive among them, as to creatures of an
+angelic nature and celestial mechanism. But I felt that I had no right
+to share their intercourse. I had unchained an enemy among them whose
+joy it was to shed their blood and to revel in their groans. How they
+would, each and all, abhor me and hunt me from the world, did they know
+my unhallowed acts and the crimes which had their source in me!
+
+My father yielded at length to my desire to avoid society and strove by
+various arguments to banish my despair. Sometimes he thought that I
+felt deeply the degradation of being obliged to answer a charge of
+murder, and he endeavoured to prove to me the futility of pride.
+
+“Alas! My father,” said I, “how little do you know me. 
+Human beings, their feelings and passions, would indeed be degraded if such
+a wretch as I felt pride. Justine, poor unhappy Justine, was as innocent
+as I, and she suffered the same charge; she died for it; and I am the cause
+of this—I murdered her. William, Justine, and Henry—they all
+died by my hands.”
+
+My father had often, during my imprisonment, heard me make the same
+assertion; when I thus accused myself, he sometimes seemed to desire an
+explanation, and at others he appeared to consider it as the offspring of
+delirium, and that, during my illness, some idea of this kind had presented
+itself to my imagination, the remembrance of which I preserved in my
+convalescence. I avoided explanation and maintained a continual silence
+concerning the wretch I had created. I had a persuasion that I should be
+supposed mad, and this in itself would for ever have chained my tongue. But,
+besides, I could not bring myself to disclose a secret which would fill my
+hearer with consternation and make fear and unnatural horror the inmates of
+his breast. I checked, therefore, my impatient thirst for sympathy and was
+silent when I would have given the world to have confided the fatal secret.
+Yet, still, words like those I have recorded would burst uncontrollably
+from me. I could offer no explanation of them, but their truth in part
+relieved the burden of my mysterious woe.
+
+Upon this occasion my father said, with an expression of unbounded wonder,
+“My dearest Victor, what infatuation is this? My dear son, I entreat
+you never to make such an assertion again.”
+
+“I am not mad,” I cried energetically; “the sun and the heavens, who
+have viewed my operations, can bear witness of my truth. I am the
+assassin of those most innocent victims; they died by my machinations.
+A thousand times would I have shed my own blood, drop by drop, to have
+saved their lives; but I could not, my father, indeed I could not
+sacrifice the whole human race.”
+
+The conclusion of this speech convinced my father that my ideas were
+deranged, and he instantly changed the subject of our conversation and
+endeavoured to alter the course of my thoughts. He wished as much as
+possible to obliterate the memory of the scenes that had taken place in
+Ireland and never alluded to them or suffered me to speak of my
+misfortunes.
+
+As time passed away I became more calm; misery had her dwelling in my
+heart, but I no longer talked in the same incoherent manner of my own
+crimes; sufficient for me was the consciousness of them. By the utmost
+self-violence I curbed the imperious voice of wretchedness, which
+sometimes desired to declare itself to the whole world, and my manners
+were calmer and more composed than they had ever been since my journey
+to the sea of ice.
+
+A few days before we left Paris on our way to Switzerland, I received the
+following letter from Elizabeth:
+
+“My dear Friend,
+
+“It gave me the greatest pleasure to receive a letter from my uncle
+dated at Paris; you are no longer at a formidable distance, and I may
+hope to see you in less than a fortnight. My poor cousin, how much you
+must have suffered! I expect to see you looking even more ill than
+when you quitted Geneva. This winter has been passed most miserably,
+tortured as I have been by anxious suspense; yet I hope to see peace in
+your countenance and to find that your heart is not totally void of
+comfort and tranquillity.
+
+“Yet I fear that the same feelings now exist that made you so miserable
+a year ago, even perhaps augmented by time. I would not disturb you at
+this period, when so many misfortunes weigh upon you, but a
+conversation that I had with my uncle previous to his departure renders
+some explanation necessary before we meet.
+
+Explanation! You may possibly say, What can Elizabeth have to explain? If
+you really say this, my questions are answered and all my doubts satisfied.
+But you are distant from me, and it is possible that you may dread and yet
+be pleased with this explanation; and in a probability of this being the
+case, I dare not any longer postpone writing what, during your absence, I
+have often wished to express to you but have never had the courage to begin.
+
+“You well know, Victor, that our union had been the favourite plan of
+your parents ever since our infancy. We were told this when young, and
+taught to look forward to it as an event that would certainly take
+place. We were affectionate playfellows during childhood, and, I
+believe, dear and valued friends to one another as we grew older. But
+as brother and sister often entertain a lively affection towards each
+other without desiring a more intimate union, may not such also be our
+case? Tell me, dearest Victor. Answer me, I conjure you by our mutual
+happiness, with simple truth—Do you not love another?
+
+“You have travelled; you have spent several years of your life at
+Ingolstadt; and I confess to you, my friend, that when I saw you last
+autumn so unhappy, flying to solitude from the society of every
+creature, I could not help supposing that you might regret our
+connection and believe yourself bound in honour to fulfil the wishes of
+your parents, although they opposed themselves to your inclinations.
+But this is false reasoning. I confess to you, my friend, that I love
+you and that in my airy dreams of futurity you have been my constant
+friend and companion. But it is your happiness I desire as well as my
+own when I declare to you that our marriage would render me eternally
+miserable unless it were the dictate of your own free choice. Even now
+I weep to think that, borne down as you are by the cruellest
+misfortunes, you may stifle, by the word _honour_, all hope of that
+love and happiness which would alone restore you to yourself. I, who
+have so disinterested an affection for you, may increase your miseries
+tenfold by being an obstacle to your wishes. Ah! Victor, be assured
+that your cousin and playmate has too sincere a love for you not to be
+made miserable by this supposition. Be happy, my friend; and if you
+obey me in this one request, remain satisfied that nothing on earth
+will have the power to interrupt my tranquillity.
+
+“Do not let this letter disturb you; do not answer tomorrow, or the
+next day, or even until you come, if it will give you pain. My uncle
+will send me news of your health, and if I see but one smile on your
+lips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, I
+shall need no other happiness.
+
+“Elizabeth Lavenza.
+
+
+
+“Geneva, May 18th, 17—”
+
+
+
+This letter revived in my memory what I had before forgotten, the threat of
+the fiend—“_I will be with you on your
+wedding-night!_” Such was my sentence, and on that night would the
+dæmon employ every art to destroy me and tear me from the glimpse of
+happiness which promised partly to console my sufferings. On that night he
+had determined to consummate his crimes by my death. Well, be it so; a
+deadly struggle would then assuredly take place, in which if he were
+victorious I should be at peace and his power over me be at an end. If he
+were vanquished, I should be a free man. Alas! What freedom? Such as the
+peasant enjoys when his family have been massacred before his eyes, his
+cottage burnt, his lands laid waste, and he is turned adrift, homeless,
+penniless, and alone, but free. Such would be my liberty except that in my
+Elizabeth I possessed a treasure, alas, balanced by those horrors of
+remorse and guilt which would pursue me until death.
+
+Sweet and beloved Elizabeth! I read and reread her letter, and some
+softened feelings stole into my heart and dared to whisper paradisiacal
+dreams of love and joy; but the apple was already eaten, and the
+angel’s arm bared to drive me from all hope. Yet I would die to make
+her happy. If the monster executed his threat, death was inevitable; yet,
+again, I considered whether my marriage would hasten my fate. My
+destruction might indeed arrive a few months sooner, but if my torturer
+should suspect that I postponed it, influenced by his menaces, he would
+surely find other and perhaps more dreadful means of revenge. He had vowed
+_to be with me on my wedding-night_, yet he did not consider that
+threat as binding him to peace in the meantime, for as if to show me that
+he was not yet satiated with blood, he had murdered Clerval immediately
+after the enunciation of his threats. I resolved, therefore, that if my
+immediate union with my cousin would conduce either to hers or my
+father’s happiness, my adversary’s designs against my life
+should not retard it a single hour.
+
+In this state of mind I wrote to Elizabeth. My letter was calm and
+affectionate. “I fear, my beloved girl,” I said, “little happiness
+remains for us on earth; yet all that I may one day enjoy is centred in
+you. Chase away your idle fears; to you alone do I consecrate my life
+and my endeavours for contentment. I have one secret, Elizabeth, a
+dreadful one; when revealed to you, it will chill your frame with
+horror, and then, far from being surprised at my misery, you will only
+wonder that I survive what I have endured. I will confide this tale of
+misery and terror to you the day after our marriage shall take place,
+for, my sweet cousin, there must be perfect confidence between us. But
+until then, I conjure you, do not mention or allude to it. This I most
+earnestly entreat, and I know you will comply.”
+
+In about a week after the arrival of Elizabeth’s letter we returned
+to Geneva. The sweet girl welcomed me with warm affection, yet tears were
+in her eyes as she beheld my emaciated frame and feverish cheeks. I saw a
+change in her also. She was thinner and had lost much of that heavenly
+vivacity that had before charmed me; but her gentleness and soft looks of
+compassion made her a more fit companion for one blasted and miserable as I
+was.
+
+The tranquillity which I now enjoyed did not endure. Memory brought madness
+with it, and when I thought of what had passed, a real insanity possessed
+me; sometimes I was furious and burnt with rage, sometimes low and
+despondent. I neither spoke nor looked at anyone, but sat motionless,
+bewildered by the multitude of miseries that overcame me.
+
+Elizabeth alone had the power to draw me from these fits; her gentle voice
+would soothe me when transported by passion and inspire me with human
+feelings when sunk in torpor. She wept with me and for me. When reason
+returned, she would remonstrate and endeavour to inspire me with
+resignation. Ah! It is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for the
+guilty there is no peace. The agonies of remorse poison the luxury there is
+otherwise sometimes found in indulging the excess of grief.
+
+Soon after my arrival my father spoke of my immediate marriage with
+Elizabeth. I remained silent.
+
+“Have you, then, some other attachment?”
+
+“None on earth. I love Elizabeth and look forward to our union with
+delight. Let the day therefore be fixed; and on it I will consecrate
+myself, in life or death, to the happiness of my cousin.”
+
+“My dear Victor, do not speak thus. Heavy misfortunes have befallen
+us, but let us only cling closer to what remains and transfer our love
+for those whom we have lost to those who yet live. Our circle will be
+small but bound close by the ties of affection and mutual misfortune.
+And when time shall have softened your despair, new and dear objects of
+care will be born to replace those of whom we have been so cruelly
+deprived.”
+
+Such were the lessons of my father. But to me the remembrance of the
+threat returned; nor can you wonder that, omnipotent as the fiend had
+yet been in his deeds of blood, I should almost regard him as
+invincible, and that when he had pronounced the words “_I shall be with
+you on your wedding-night_,” I should regard the threatened fate as
+unavoidable. But death was no evil to me if the loss of Elizabeth were
+balanced with it, and I therefore, with a contented and even cheerful
+countenance, agreed with my father that if my cousin would consent, the
+ceremony should take place in ten days, and thus put, as I imagined,
+the seal to my fate.
+
+Great God! If for one instant I had thought what might be the hellish
+intention of my fiendish adversary, I would rather have banished myself
+for ever from my native country and wandered a friendless outcast over
+the earth than have consented to this miserable marriage. But, as if
+possessed of magic powers, the monster had blinded me to his real
+intentions; and when I thought that I had prepared only my own death, I
+hastened that of a far dearer victim.
+
+As the period fixed for our marriage drew nearer, whether from cowardice or
+a prophetic feeling, I felt my heart sink within me. But I concealed my
+feelings by an appearance of hilarity that brought smiles and joy to the
+countenance of my father, but hardly deceived the ever-watchful and nicer
+eye of Elizabeth. She looked forward to our union with placid contentment,
+not unmingled with a little fear, which past misfortunes had impressed,
+that what now appeared certain and tangible happiness might soon dissipate
+into an airy dream and leave no trace but deep and everlasting regret.
+
+Preparations were made for the event, congratulatory visits were received,
+and all wore a smiling appearance. I shut up, as well as I could, in my own
+heart the anxiety that preyed there and entered with seeming earnestness
+into the plans of my father, although they might only serve as the
+decorations of my tragedy. Through my father’s exertions a part of
+the inheritance of Elizabeth had been restored to her by the Austrian
+government. A small possession on the shores of Como belonged to her. It
+was agreed that, immediately after our union, we should proceed to Villa
+Lavenza and spend our first days of happiness beside the beautiful lake
+near which it stood.
+
+In the meantime I took every precaution to defend my person in case the
+fiend should openly attack me. I carried pistols and a dagger
+constantly about me and was ever on the watch to prevent artifice, and
+by these means gained a greater degree of tranquillity. Indeed, as the
+period approached, the threat appeared more as a delusion, not to be
+regarded as worthy to disturb my peace, while the happiness I hoped for
+in my marriage wore a greater appearance of certainty as the day fixed
+for its solemnisation drew nearer and I heard it continually spoken of
+as an occurrence which no accident could possibly prevent.
+
+Elizabeth seemed happy; my tranquil demeanour contributed greatly to
+calm her mind. But on the day that was to fulfil my wishes and my
+destiny, she was melancholy, and a presentiment of evil pervaded her;
+and perhaps also she thought of the dreadful secret which I had
+promised to reveal to her on the following day. My father was in the
+meantime overjoyed, and, in the bustle of preparation, only recognised in
+the melancholy of his niece the diffidence of a bride.
+
+After the ceremony was performed a large party assembled at my
+father’s, but it was agreed that Elizabeth and I should commence our
+journey by water, sleeping that night at Evian and continuing our
+voyage on the following day. The day was fair, the wind favourable;
+all smiled on our nuptial embarkation.
+
+Those were the last moments of my life during which I enjoyed the
+feeling of happiness. We passed rapidly along; the sun was hot, but we
+were sheltered from its rays by a kind of canopy while we enjoyed the
+beauty of the scene, sometimes on one side of the lake, where we saw
+Mont Salêve, the pleasant banks of Montalègre, and at a distance,
+surmounting all, the beautiful Mont Blanc, and the assemblage of snowy
+mountains that in vain endeavour to emulate her; sometimes coasting the
+opposite banks, we saw the mighty Jura opposing its dark side to the
+ambition that would quit its native country, and an almost
+insurmountable barrier to the invader who should wish to enslave it.
+
+I took the hand of Elizabeth. “You are sorrowful, my love. Ah! If
+you knew what I have suffered and what I may yet endure, you would
+endeavour to let me taste the quiet and freedom from despair that this
+one day at least permits me to enjoy.”
+
+“Be happy, my dear Victor,” replied Elizabeth; “there is, I hope,
+nothing to distress you; and be assured that if a lively joy is not
+painted in my face, my heart is contented. Something whispers to me
+not to depend too much on the prospect that is opened before us, but I
+will not listen to such a sinister voice. Observe how fast we move
+along and how the clouds, which sometimes obscure and sometimes rise
+above the dome of Mont Blanc, render this scene of beauty still more
+interesting. Look also at the innumerable fish that are swimming in
+the clear waters, where we can distinguish every pebble that lies at
+the bottom. What a divine day! How happy and serene all nature
+appears!”
+
+Thus Elizabeth endeavoured to divert her thoughts and mine from all
+reflection upon melancholy subjects. But her temper was fluctuating;
+joy for a few instants shone in her eyes, but it continually gave place
+to distraction and reverie.
+
+The sun sank lower in the heavens; we passed the river Drance and
+observed its path through the chasms of the higher and the glens of the
+lower hills. The Alps here come closer to the lake, and we approached
+the amphitheatre of mountains which forms its eastern boundary. The
+spire of Evian shone under the woods that surrounded it and the range
+of mountain above mountain by which it was overhung.
+
+The wind, which had hitherto carried us along with amazing rapidity,
+sank at sunset to a light breeze; the soft air just ruffled the water
+and caused a pleasant motion among the trees as we approached the
+shore, from which it wafted the most delightful scent of flowers and
+hay. The sun sank beneath the horizon as we landed, and as I touched
+the shore I felt those cares and fears revive which soon were to clasp
+me and cling to me for ever.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 23
+
+
+It was eight o’clock when we landed; we walked for a short time on the
+shore, enjoying the transitory light, and then retired to the inn and
+contemplated the lovely scene of waters, woods, and mountains, obscured
+in darkness, yet still displaying their black outlines.
+
+The wind, which had fallen in the south, now rose with great violence
+in the west. The moon had reached her summit in the heavens and was
+beginning to descend; the clouds swept across it swifter than the
+flight of the vulture and dimmed her rays, while the lake reflected the
+scene of the busy heavens, rendered still busier by the restless waves
+that were beginning to rise. Suddenly a heavy storm of rain descended.
+
+I had been calm during the day, but so soon as night obscured the
+shapes of objects, a thousand fears arose in my mind. I was anxious
+and watchful, while my right hand grasped a pistol which was hidden in
+my bosom; every sound terrified me, but I resolved that I would sell my
+life dearly and not shrink from the conflict until my own life or that
+of my adversary was extinguished.
+
+Elizabeth observed my agitation for some time in timid and fearful silence,
+but there was something in my glance which communicated terror to her, and
+trembling, she asked, “What is it that agitates you, my dear Victor?
+What is it you fear?”
+
+“Oh! Peace, peace, my love,” replied I; “this night, and
+all will be safe; but this night is dreadful, very dreadful.”
+
+I passed an hour in this state of mind, when suddenly I reflected how
+fearful the combat which I momentarily expected would be to my wife,
+and I earnestly entreated her to retire, resolving not to join her
+until I had obtained some knowledge as to the situation of my enemy.
+
+She left me, and I continued some time walking up and down the passages
+of the house and inspecting every corner that might afford a retreat to
+my adversary. But I discovered no trace of him and was beginning to
+conjecture that some fortunate chance had intervened to prevent the
+execution of his menaces when suddenly I heard a shrill and dreadful
+scream. It came from the room into which Elizabeth had retired. As I
+heard it, the whole truth rushed into my mind, my arms dropped, the
+motion of every muscle and fibre was suspended; I could feel the blood
+trickling in my veins and tingling in the extremities of my limbs. This
+state lasted but for an instant; the scream was repeated, and I rushed
+into the room.
+
+Great God! Why did I not then expire! Why am I here to relate the
+destruction of the best hope and the purest creature on earth? She was
+there, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the bed, her head hanging down
+and her pale and distorted features half covered by her hair. Everywhere I
+turn I see the same figure—her bloodless arms and relaxed form flung
+by the murderer on its bridal bier. Could I behold this and live? Alas!
+Life is obstinate and clings closest where it is most hated. For a moment
+only did I lose recollection; I fell senseless on the ground.
+
+When I recovered I found myself surrounded by the people of the inn; their
+countenances expressed a breathless terror, but the horror of others
+appeared only as a mockery, a shadow of the feelings that oppressed me. I
+escaped from them to the room where lay the body of Elizabeth, my love, my
+wife, so lately living, so dear, so worthy. She had been moved from the
+posture in which I had first beheld her, and now, as she lay, her head upon
+her arm and a handkerchief thrown across her face and neck, I might have
+supposed her asleep. I rushed towards her and embraced her with ardour, but
+the deadly languor and coldness of the limbs told me that what I now held
+in my arms had ceased to be the Elizabeth whom I had loved and cherished.
+The murderous mark of the fiend’s grasp was on her neck, and the
+breath had ceased to issue from her lips.
+
+While I still hung over her in the agony of despair, I happened to look up.
+The windows of the room had before been darkened, and I felt a kind of
+panic on seeing the pale yellow light of the moon illuminate the chamber.
+The shutters had been thrown back, and with a sensation of horror not to be
+described, I saw at the open window a figure the most hideous and abhorred.
+A grin was on the face of the monster; he seemed to jeer, as with his
+fiendish finger he pointed towards the corpse of my wife. I rushed towards
+the window, and drawing a pistol from my bosom, fired; but he eluded me,
+leaped from his station, and running with the swiftness of lightning,
+plunged into the lake.
+
+The report of the pistol brought a crowd into the room. I pointed to
+the spot where he had disappeared, and we followed the track with
+boats; nets were cast, but in vain. After passing several hours, we
+returned hopeless, most of my companions believing it to have been a
+form conjured up by my fancy. After having landed, they proceeded to
+search the country, parties going in different directions among the
+woods and vines.
+
+I attempted to accompany them and proceeded a short distance from the
+house, but my head whirled round, my steps were like those of a drunken
+man, I fell at last in a state of utter exhaustion; a film covered my
+eyes, and my skin was parched with the heat of fever. In this state I
+was carried back and placed on a bed, hardly conscious of what had
+happened; my eyes wandered round the room as if to seek something that
+I had lost.
+
+After an interval I arose, and as if by instinct, crawled into the room
+where the corpse of my beloved lay. There were women weeping around; I
+hung over it and joined my sad tears to theirs; all this time no
+distinct idea presented itself to my mind, but my thoughts rambled to
+various subjects, reflecting confusedly on my misfortunes and their
+cause. I was bewildered, in a cloud of wonder and horror. The death
+of William, the execution of Justine, the murder of Clerval, and lastly
+of my wife; even at that moment I knew not that my only remaining
+friends were safe from the malignity of the fiend; my father even now
+might be writhing under his grasp, and Ernest might be dead at his
+feet. This idea made me shudder and recalled me to action. I started
+up and resolved to return to Geneva with all possible speed.
+
+There were no horses to be procured, and I must return by the lake; but the
+wind was unfavourable, and the rain fell in torrents. However, it was
+hardly morning, and I might reasonably hope to arrive by night. I hired men
+to row and took an oar myself, for I had always experienced relief from
+mental torment in bodily exercise. But the overflowing misery I now felt,
+and the excess of agitation that I endured rendered me incapable of any
+exertion. I threw down the oar, and leaning my head upon my hands, gave way
+to every gloomy idea that arose. If I looked up, I saw scenes which were
+familiar to me in my happier time and which I had contemplated but the day
+before in the company of her who was now but a shadow and a recollection.
+Tears streamed from my eyes. The rain had ceased for a moment, and I saw
+the fish play in the waters as they had done a few hours before; they had
+then been observed by Elizabeth. Nothing is so painful to the human mind as
+a great and sudden change. The sun might shine or the clouds might lower,
+but nothing could appear to me as it had done the day before. A fiend had
+snatched from me every hope of future happiness; no creature had ever been
+so miserable as I was; so frightful an event is single in the history of
+man.
+
+But why should I dwell upon the incidents that followed this last
+overwhelming event? Mine has been a tale of horrors; I have reached their
+_acme_, and what I must now relate can but be tedious to you. Know
+that, one by one, my friends were snatched away; I was left desolate. My
+own strength is exhausted, and I must tell, in a few words, what remains of
+my hideous narration.
+
+I arrived at Geneva. My father and Ernest yet lived, but the former sunk
+under the tidings that I bore. I see him now, excellent and venerable old
+man! His eyes wandered in vacancy, for they had lost their charm and their
+delight—his Elizabeth, his more than daughter, whom he doted on with
+all that affection which a man feels, who in the decline of life, having
+few affections, clings more earnestly to those that remain. Cursed, cursed
+be the fiend that brought misery on his grey hairs and doomed him to waste
+in wretchedness! He could not live under the horrors that were accumulated
+around him; the springs of existence suddenly gave way; he was unable to
+rise from his bed, and in a few days he died in my arms.
+
+What then became of me? I know not; I lost sensation, and chains and
+darkness were the only objects that pressed upon me. Sometimes,
+indeed, I dreamt that I wandered in flowery meadows and pleasant vales
+with the friends of my youth, but I awoke and found myself in a
+dungeon. Melancholy followed, but by degrees I gained a clear
+conception of my miseries and situation and was then released from my
+prison. For they had called me mad, and during many months, as I
+understood, a solitary cell had been my habitation.
+
+Liberty, however, had been a useless gift to me, had I not, as I
+awakened to reason, at the same time awakened to revenge. As the
+memory of past misfortunes pressed upon me, I began to reflect on their
+cause—the monster whom I had created, the miserable dæmon whom I had
+sent abroad into the world for my destruction. I was possessed by a
+maddening rage when I thought of him, and desired and ardently prayed
+that I might have him within my grasp to wreak a great and signal
+revenge on his cursed head.
+
+Nor did my hate long confine itself to useless wishes; I began to
+reflect on the best means of securing him; and for this purpose, about
+a month after my release, I repaired to a criminal judge in the town
+and told him that I had an accusation to make, that I knew the
+destroyer of my family, and that I required him to exert his whole
+authority for the apprehension of the murderer.
+
+The magistrate listened to me with attention and kindness. “Be
+assured, sir,” said he, “no pains or exertions on my part shall
+be spared to discover the villain.”
+
+“I thank you,” replied I; “listen, therefore, to the
+deposition that I have to make. It is indeed a tale so strange that I
+should fear you would not credit it were there not something in truth
+which, however wonderful, forces conviction. The story is too connected to
+be mistaken for a dream, and I have no motive for falsehood.” My
+manner as I thus addressed him was impressive but calm; I had formed in my
+own heart a resolution to pursue my destroyer to death, and this purpose
+quieted my agony and for an interval reconciled me to life. I now related
+my history briefly but with firmness and precision, marking the dates with
+accuracy and never deviating into invective or exclamation.
+
+The magistrate appeared at first perfectly incredulous, but as I continued
+he became more attentive and interested; I saw him sometimes shudder with
+horror; at others a lively surprise, unmingled with disbelief, was painted
+on his countenance.
+
+When I had concluded my narration, I said, “This is the being whom I
+accuse and for whose seizure and punishment I call upon you to exert your
+whole power. It is your duty as a magistrate, and I believe and hope that
+your feelings as a man will not revolt from the execution of those
+functions on this occasion.”
+
+This address caused a considerable change in the physiognomy of my own
+auditor. He had heard my story with that half kind of belief that is given
+to a tale of spirits and supernatural events; but when he was called upon
+to act officially in consequence, the whole tide of his incredulity
+returned. He, however, answered mildly, “I would willingly afford you
+every aid in your pursuit, but the creature of whom you speak appears to
+have powers which would put all my exertions to defiance. Who can follow an
+animal which can traverse the sea of ice and inhabit caves and dens where
+no man would venture to intrude? Besides, some months have elapsed since
+the commission of his crimes, and no one can conjecture to what place he
+has wandered or what region he may now inhabit.”
+
+“I do not doubt that he hovers near the spot which I inhabit, and if
+he has indeed taken refuge in the Alps, he may be hunted like the chamois
+and destroyed as a beast of prey. But I perceive your thoughts; you do not
+credit my narrative and do not intend to pursue my enemy with the
+punishment which is his desert.”
+
+As I spoke, rage sparkled in my eyes; the magistrate was intimidated.
+“You are mistaken,” said he. “I will exert myself, and if
+it is in my power to seize the monster, be assured that he shall suffer
+punishment proportionate to his crimes. But I fear, from what you have
+yourself described to be his properties, that this will prove
+impracticable; and thus, while every proper measure is pursued, you should
+make up your mind to disappointment.”
+
+“That cannot be; but all that I can say will be of little avail. My
+revenge is of no moment to you; yet, while I allow it to be a vice, I
+confess that it is the devouring and only passion of my soul. My rage
+is unspeakable when I reflect that the murderer, whom I have turned
+loose upon society, still exists. You refuse my just demand; I have
+but one resource, and I devote myself, either in my life or death, to
+his destruction.”
+
+I trembled with excess of agitation as I said this; there was a frenzy
+in my manner, and something, I doubt not, of that haughty fierceness
+which the martyrs of old are said to have possessed. But to a Genevan
+magistrate, whose mind was occupied by far other ideas than those of
+devotion and heroism, this elevation of mind had much the appearance of
+madness. He endeavoured to soothe me as a nurse does a child and
+reverted to my tale as the effects of delirium.
+
+“Man,” I cried, “how ignorant art thou in thy pride of
+wisdom! Cease; you know not what it is you say.”
+
+I broke from the house angry and disturbed and retired to meditate on
+some other mode of action.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 24
+
+
+My present situation was one in which all voluntary thought was
+swallowed up and lost. I was hurried away by fury; revenge alone
+endowed me with strength and composure; it moulded my feelings and
+allowed me to be calculating and calm at periods when otherwise
+delirium or death would have been my portion.
+
+My first resolution was to quit Geneva for ever; my country, which, when I
+was happy and beloved, was dear to me, now, in my adversity, became
+hateful. I provided myself with a sum of money, together with a few jewels
+which had belonged to my mother, and departed.
+
+And now my wanderings began which are to cease but with life. I have
+traversed a vast portion of the earth and have endured all the hardships
+which travellers in deserts and barbarous countries are wont to meet. How I
+have lived I hardly know; many times have I stretched my failing limbs upon
+the sandy plain and prayed for death. But revenge kept me alive; I dared
+not die and leave my adversary in being.
+
+When I quitted Geneva my first labour was to gain some clue by which I
+might trace the steps of my fiendish enemy. But my plan was unsettled,
+and I wandered many hours round the confines of the town, uncertain
+what path I should pursue. As night approached I found myself at the
+entrance of the cemetery where William, Elizabeth, and my father
+reposed. I entered it and approached the tomb which marked their
+graves. Everything was silent except the leaves of the trees, which
+were gently agitated by the wind; the night was nearly dark, and the
+scene would have been solemn and affecting even to an uninterested
+observer. The spirits of the departed seemed to flit around and to
+cast a shadow, which was felt but not seen, around the head of the
+mourner.
+
+The deep grief which this scene had at first excited quickly gave way to
+rage and despair. They were dead, and I lived; their murderer also lived,
+and to destroy him I must drag out my weary existence. I knelt on the grass
+and kissed the earth and with quivering lips exclaimed, “By the
+sacred earth on which I kneel, by the shades that wander near me, by the
+deep and eternal grief that I feel, I swear; and by thee, O Night, and the
+spirits that preside over thee, to pursue the dæmon who caused this misery,
+until he or I shall perish in mortal conflict. For this purpose I will
+preserve my life; to execute this dear revenge will I again behold the sun
+and tread the green herbage of earth, which otherwise should vanish from my
+eyes for ever. And I call on you, spirits of the dead, and on you, wandering
+ministers of vengeance, to aid and conduct me in my work. Let the cursed
+and hellish monster drink deep of agony; let him feel the despair that now
+torments me.”
+
+I had begun my adjuration with solemnity and an awe which almost assured me
+that the shades of my murdered friends heard and approved my devotion, but
+the furies possessed me as I concluded, and rage choked my utterance.
+
+I was answered through the stillness of night by a loud and fiendish
+laugh. It rang on my ears long and heavily; the mountains re-echoed
+it, and I felt as if all hell surrounded me with mockery and laughter.
+Surely in that moment I should have been possessed by frenzy and have
+destroyed my miserable existence but that my vow was heard and that I
+was reserved for vengeance. The laughter died away, when a well-known
+and abhorred voice, apparently close to my ear, addressed me in an
+audible whisper, “I am satisfied, miserable wretch! You have
+determined to live, and I am satisfied.”
+
+I darted towards the spot from which the sound proceeded, but the devil
+eluded my grasp. Suddenly the broad disk of the moon arose and shone
+full upon his ghastly and distorted shape as he fled with more than
+mortal speed.
+
+I pursued him, and for many months this has been my task. Guided by a
+slight clue, I followed the windings of the Rhone, but vainly. The
+blue Mediterranean appeared, and by a strange chance, I saw the fiend
+enter by night and hide himself in a vessel bound for the Black Sea. I
+took my passage in the same ship, but he escaped, I know not how.
+
+Amidst the wilds of Tartary and Russia, although he still evaded me, I
+have ever followed in his track. Sometimes the peasants, scared by
+this horrid apparition, informed me of his path; sometimes he himself,
+who feared that if I lost all trace of him I should despair and die,
+left some mark to guide me. The snows descended on my head, and I saw
+the print of his huge step on the white plain. To you first entering
+on life, to whom care is new and agony unknown, how can you understand
+what I have felt and still feel? Cold, want, and fatigue were the
+least pains which I was destined to endure; I was cursed by some devil
+and carried about with me my eternal hell; yet still a spirit of good
+followed and directed my steps and when I most murmured would suddenly
+extricate me from seemingly insurmountable difficulties. Sometimes,
+when nature, overcome by hunger, sank under the exhaustion, a repast
+was prepared for me in the desert that restored and inspirited me. The
+fare was, indeed, coarse, such as the peasants of the country ate, but
+I will not doubt that it was set there by the spirits that I had
+invoked to aid me. Often, when all was dry, the heavens cloudless, and
+I was parched by thirst, a slight cloud would bedim the sky, shed the
+few drops that revived me, and vanish.
+
+I followed, when I could, the courses of the rivers; but the dæmon
+generally avoided these, as it was here that the population of the
+country chiefly collected. In other places human beings were seldom
+seen, and I generally subsisted on the wild animals that crossed my
+path. I had money with me and gained the friendship of the villagers
+by distributing it; or I brought with me some food that I had killed,
+which, after taking a small part, I always presented to those who had
+provided me with fire and utensils for cooking.
+
+My life, as it passed thus, was indeed hateful to me, and it was during
+sleep alone that I could taste joy. O blessed sleep! Often, when most
+miserable, I sank to repose, and my dreams lulled me even to rapture. The
+spirits that guarded me had provided these moments, or rather hours, of
+happiness that I might retain strength to fulfil my pilgrimage. Deprived of
+this respite, I should have sunk under my hardships. During the day I was
+sustained and inspirited by the hope of night, for in sleep I saw my
+friends, my wife, and my beloved country; again I saw the benevolent
+countenance of my father, heard the silver tones of my Elizabeth’s
+voice, and beheld Clerval enjoying health and youth. Often, when wearied by
+a toilsome march, I persuaded myself that I was dreaming until night should
+come and that I should then enjoy reality in the arms of my dearest
+friends. What agonising fondness did I feel for them! How did I cling to
+their dear forms, as sometimes they haunted even my waking hours, and
+persuade myself that they still lived! At such moments vengeance, that
+burned within me, died in my heart, and I pursued my path towards the
+destruction of the dæmon more as a task enjoined by heaven, as the
+mechanical impulse of some power of which I was unconscious, than as the
+ardent desire of my soul.
+
+What his feelings were whom I pursued I cannot know. Sometimes, indeed, he
+left marks in writing on the barks of the trees or cut in stone that guided
+me and instigated my fury. “My reign is not yet
+over”—these words were legible in one of these
+inscriptions—“you live, and my power is complete. Follow me; I
+seek the everlasting ices of the north, where you will feel the misery of
+cold and frost, to which I am impassive. You will find near this place, if
+you follow not too tardily, a dead hare; eat and be refreshed. Come on, my
+enemy; we have yet to wrestle for our lives, but many hard and miserable
+hours must you endure until that period shall arrive.”
+
+Scoffing devil! Again do I vow vengeance; again do I devote thee,
+miserable fiend, to torture and death. Never will I give up my search
+until he or I perish; and then with what ecstasy shall I join my
+Elizabeth and my departed friends, who even now prepare for me the
+reward of my tedious toil and horrible pilgrimage!
+
+As I still pursued my journey to the northward, the snows thickened and the
+cold increased in a degree almost too severe to support. The peasants were
+shut up in their hovels, and only a few of the most hardy ventured forth to
+seize the animals whom starvation had forced from their hiding-places to
+seek for prey. The rivers were covered with ice, and no fish could be
+procured; and thus I was cut off from my chief article of maintenance.
+
+The triumph of my enemy increased with the difficulty of my labours. One
+inscription that he left was in these words: “Prepare! Your toils
+only begin; wrap yourself in furs and provide food, for we shall soon enter
+upon a journey where your sufferings will satisfy my everlasting
+hatred.”
+
+My courage and perseverance were invigorated by these scoffing words; I
+resolved not to fail in my purpose, and calling on Heaven to support
+me, I continued with unabated fervour to traverse immense deserts,
+until the ocean appeared at a distance and formed the utmost boundary
+of the horizon. Oh! How unlike it was to the blue seasons of the
+south! Covered with ice, it was only to be distinguished from land by
+its superior wildness and ruggedness. The Greeks wept for joy when
+they beheld the Mediterranean from the hills of Asia, and hailed with
+rapture the boundary of their toils. I did not weep, but I knelt down
+and with a full heart thanked my guiding spirit for conducting me in
+safety to the place where I hoped, notwithstanding my adversary’s gibe,
+to meet and grapple with him.
+
+Some weeks before this period I had procured a sledge and dogs and thus
+traversed the snows with inconceivable speed. I know not whether the
+fiend possessed the same advantages, but I found that, as before I had
+daily lost ground in the pursuit, I now gained on him, so much so that
+when I first saw the ocean he was but one day’s journey in advance, and
+I hoped to intercept him before he should reach the beach. With new
+courage, therefore, I pressed on, and in two days arrived at a wretched
+hamlet on the seashore. I inquired of the inhabitants concerning the
+fiend and gained accurate information. A gigantic monster, they said,
+had arrived the night before, armed with a gun and many pistols,
+putting to flight the inhabitants of a solitary cottage through fear of
+his terrific appearance. He had carried off their store of winter
+food, and placing it in a sledge, to draw which he had seized on a
+numerous drove of trained dogs, he had harnessed them, and the same
+night, to the joy of the horror-struck villagers, had pursued his
+journey across the sea in a direction that led to no land; and they
+conjectured that he must speedily be destroyed by the breaking of the
+ice or frozen by the eternal frosts.
+
+On hearing this information I suffered a temporary access of despair.
+He had escaped me, and I must commence a destructive and almost endless
+journey across the mountainous ices of the ocean, amidst cold that few
+of the inhabitants could long endure and which I, the native of a
+genial and sunny climate, could not hope to survive. Yet at the idea
+that the fiend should live and be triumphant, my rage and vengeance
+returned, and like a mighty tide, overwhelmed every other feeling.
+After a slight repose, during which the spirits of the dead hovered
+round and instigated me to toil and revenge, I prepared for my journey.
+
+I exchanged my land-sledge for one fashioned for the inequalities of
+the Frozen Ocean, and purchasing a plentiful stock of provisions, I
+departed from land.
+
+I cannot guess how many days have passed since then, but I have endured
+misery which nothing but the eternal sentiment of a just retribution
+burning within my heart could have enabled me to support. Immense and
+rugged mountains of ice often barred up my passage, and I often heard
+the thunder of the ground sea, which threatened my destruction. But
+again the frost came and made the paths of the sea secure.
+
+By the quantity of provision which I had consumed, I should guess that
+I had passed three weeks in this journey; and the continual protraction
+of hope, returning back upon the heart, often wrung bitter drops of
+despondency and grief from my eyes. Despair had indeed almost secured
+her prey, and I should soon have sunk beneath this misery. Once, after
+the poor animals that conveyed me had with incredible toil gained the
+summit of a sloping ice mountain, and one, sinking under his fatigue,
+died, I viewed the expanse before me with anguish, when suddenly my eye
+caught a dark speck upon the dusky plain. I strained my sight to
+discover what it could be and uttered a wild cry of ecstasy when I
+distinguished a sledge and the distorted proportions of a well-known
+form within. Oh! With what a burning gush did hope revisit my heart!
+Warm tears filled my eyes, which I hastily wiped away, that they might
+not intercept the view I had of the dæmon; but still my sight was
+dimmed by the burning drops, until, giving way to the emotions that
+oppressed me, I wept aloud.
+
+But this was not the time for delay; I disencumbered the dogs of their
+dead companion, gave them a plentiful portion of food, and after an
+hour’s rest, which was absolutely necessary, and yet which was bitterly
+irksome to me, I continued my route. The sledge was still visible, nor
+did I again lose sight of it except at the moments when for a short
+time some ice-rock concealed it with its intervening crags. I indeed
+perceptibly gained on it, and when, after nearly two days’ journey, I
+beheld my enemy at no more than a mile distant, my heart bounded within
+me.
+
+But now, when I appeared almost within grasp of my foe, my hopes were
+suddenly extinguished, and I lost all trace of him more utterly than I had
+ever done before. A ground sea was heard; the thunder of its progress, as
+the waters rolled and swelled beneath me, became every moment more ominous
+and terrific. I pressed on, but in vain. The wind arose; the sea roared;
+and, as with the mighty shock of an earthquake, it split and cracked with a
+tremendous and overwhelming sound. The work was soon finished; in a few
+minutes a tumultuous sea rolled between me and my enemy, and I was left
+drifting on a scattered piece of ice that was continually lessening and
+thus preparing for me a hideous death.
+
+In this manner many appalling hours passed; several of my dogs died, and I
+myself was about to sink under the accumulation of distress when I saw your
+vessel riding at anchor and holding forth to me hopes of succour and life.
+I had no conception that vessels ever came so far north and was astounded
+at the sight. I quickly destroyed part of my sledge to construct oars, and
+by these means was enabled, with infinite fatigue, to move my ice raft in
+the direction of your ship. I had determined, if you were going southwards,
+still to trust myself to the mercy of the seas rather than abandon my
+purpose. I hoped to induce you to grant me a boat with which I could pursue
+my enemy. But your direction was northwards. You took me on board when my
+vigour was exhausted, and I should soon have sunk under my multiplied
+hardships into a death which I still dread, for my task is unfulfilled.
+
+Oh! When will my guiding spirit, in conducting me to the dæmon, allow
+me the rest I so much desire; or must I die, and he yet live? If I do,
+swear to me, Walton, that he shall not escape, that you will seek him
+and satisfy my vengeance in his death. And do I dare to ask of you to
+undertake my pilgrimage, to endure the hardships that I have undergone?
+No; I am not so selfish. Yet, when I am dead, if he should appear, if
+the ministers of vengeance should conduct him to you, swear that he
+shall not live—swear that he shall not triumph over my accumulated
+woes and survive to add to the list of his dark crimes. He is eloquent
+and persuasive, and once his words had even power over my heart; but
+trust him not. His soul is as hellish as his form, full of treachery
+and fiend-like malice. Hear him not; call on the names of William,
+Justine, Clerval, Elizabeth, my father, and of the wretched Victor, and
+thrust your sword into his heart. I will hover near and direct the
+steel aright.
+
+Walton, _in continuation._
+
+
+August 26th, 17—.
+
+
+You have read this strange and terrific story, Margaret; and do you not
+feel your blood congeal with horror, like that which even now curdles
+mine? Sometimes, seized with sudden agony, he could not continue his
+tale; at others, his voice broken, yet piercing, uttered with
+difficulty the words so replete with anguish. His fine and lovely eyes
+were now lighted up with indignation, now subdued to downcast sorrow
+and quenched in infinite wretchedness. Sometimes he commanded his
+countenance and tones and related the most horrible incidents with a
+tranquil voice, suppressing every mark of agitation; then, like a
+volcano bursting forth, his face would suddenly change to an expression
+of the wildest rage as he shrieked out imprecations on his persecutor.
+
+His tale is connected and told with an appearance of the simplest truth,
+yet I own to you that the letters of Felix and Safie, which he showed me,
+and the apparition of the monster seen from our ship, brought to me a
+greater conviction of the truth of his narrative than his asseverations,
+however earnest and connected. Such a monster has, then, really existence!
+I cannot doubt it, yet I am lost in surprise and admiration. Sometimes I
+endeavoured to gain from Frankenstein the particulars of his
+creature’s formation, but on this point he was impenetrable.
+
+“Are you mad, my friend?” said he. “Or whither does your
+senseless curiosity lead you? Would you also create for yourself and the
+world a demoniacal enemy? Peace, peace! Learn my miseries and do not seek
+to increase your own.”
+
+Frankenstein discovered that I made notes concerning his history; he asked
+to see them and then himself corrected and augmented them in many places,
+but principally in giving the life and spirit to the conversations he held
+with his enemy. “Since you have preserved my narration,” said
+he, “I would not that a mutilated one should go down to
+posterity.”
+
+Thus has a week passed away, while I have listened to the strangest
+tale that ever imagination formed. My thoughts and every feeling of my
+soul have been drunk up by the interest for my guest which this tale
+and his own elevated and gentle manners have created. I wish to soothe
+him, yet can I counsel one so infinitely miserable, so destitute of
+every hope of consolation, to live? Oh, no! The only joy that he can
+now know will be when he composes his shattered spirit to peace and
+death. Yet he enjoys one comfort, the offspring of solitude and
+delirium; he believes that when in dreams he holds converse with his
+friends and derives from that communion consolation for his miseries or
+excitements to his vengeance, that they are not the creations of his
+fancy, but the beings themselves who visit him from the regions of a
+remote world. This faith gives a solemnity to his reveries that render
+them to me almost as imposing and interesting as truth.
+
+Our conversations are not always confined to his own history and
+misfortunes. On every point of general literature he displays
+unbounded knowledge and a quick and piercing apprehension. His
+eloquence is forcible and touching; nor can I hear him, when he relates
+a pathetic incident or endeavours to move the passions of pity or love,
+without tears. What a glorious creature must he have been in the days
+of his prosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike in ruin! He seems
+to feel his own worth and the greatness of his fall.
+
+“When younger,” said he, “I believed myself destined for
+some great enterprise. My feelings are profound, but I possessed a coolness
+of judgment that fitted me for illustrious achievements. This sentiment of
+the worth of my nature supported me when others would have been oppressed,
+for I deemed it criminal to throw away in useless grief those talents that
+might be useful to my fellow creatures. When I reflected on the work I had
+completed, no less a one than the creation of a sensitive and rational
+animal, I could not rank myself with the herd of common projectors. But
+this thought, which supported me in the commencement of my career, now
+serves only to plunge me lower in the dust. All my speculations and hopes
+are as nothing, and like the archangel who aspired to omnipotence, I am
+chained in an eternal hell. My imagination was vivid, yet my powers of
+analysis and application were intense; by the union of these qualities I
+conceived the idea and executed the creation of a man. Even now I cannot
+recollect without passion my reveries while the work was incomplete. I trod
+heaven in my thoughts, now exulting in my powers, now burning with the idea
+of their effects. From my infancy I was imbued with high hopes and a lofty
+ambition; but how am I sunk! Oh! My friend, if you had known me as I once
+was, you would not recognise me in this state of degradation. Despondency
+rarely visited my heart; a high destiny seemed to bear me on, until I fell,
+never, never again to rise.”
+
+Must I then lose this admirable being? I have longed for a friend; I have
+sought one who would sympathise with and love me. Behold, on these desert
+seas I have found such a one, but I fear I have gained him only to know his
+value and lose him. I would reconcile him to life, but he repulses the idea.
+
+“I thank you, Walton,” he said, “for your kind intentions towards so
+miserable a wretch; but when you speak of new ties and fresh
+affections, think you that any can replace those who are gone? Can any
+man be to me as Clerval was, or any woman another Elizabeth? Even
+where the affections are not strongly moved by any superior excellence,
+the companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our
+minds which hardly any later friend can obtain. They know our
+infantine dispositions, which, however they may be afterwards modified,
+are never eradicated; and they can judge of our actions with more
+certain conclusions as to the integrity of our motives. A sister or a
+brother can never, unless indeed such symptoms have been shown early,
+suspect the other of fraud or false dealing, when another friend,
+however strongly he may be attached, may, in spite of himself, be
+contemplated with suspicion. But I enjoyed friends, dear not only
+through habit and association, but from their own merits; and wherever
+I am, the soothing voice of my Elizabeth and the conversation of
+Clerval will be ever whispered in my ear. They are dead, and but one
+feeling in such a solitude can persuade me to preserve my life. If I
+were engaged in any high undertaking or design, fraught with extensive
+utility to my fellow creatures, then could I live to fulfil it. But
+such is not my destiny; I must pursue and destroy the being to whom I
+gave existence; then my lot on earth will be fulfilled and I may die.”
+
+My beloved Sister,
+
+September 2d.
+
+
+I write to you, encompassed by peril and ignorant whether I am ever
+doomed to see again dear England and the dearer friends that inhabit
+it. I am surrounded by mountains of ice which admit of no escape and
+threaten every moment to crush my vessel. The brave fellows whom I
+have persuaded to be my companions look towards me for aid, but I have
+none to bestow. There is something terribly appalling in our
+situation, yet my courage and hopes do not desert me. Yet it is
+terrible to reflect that the lives of all these men are endangered
+through me. If we are lost, my mad schemes are the cause.
+
+And what, Margaret, will be the state of your mind? You will not hear of my
+destruction, and you will anxiously await my return. Years will pass, and
+you will have visitings of despair and yet be tortured by hope. Oh! My
+beloved sister, the sickening failing of your heart-felt expectations is,
+in prospect, more terrible to me than my own death. But you have a husband
+and lovely children; you may be happy. Heaven bless you and make you so!
+
+My unfortunate guest regards me with the tenderest compassion. He
+endeavours to fill me with hope and talks as if life were a possession
+which he valued. He reminds me how often the same accidents have
+happened to other navigators who have attempted this sea, and in spite
+of myself, he fills me with cheerful auguries. Even the sailors feel
+the power of his eloquence; when he speaks, they no longer despair; he
+rouses their energies, and while they hear his voice they believe these
+vast mountains of ice are mole-hills which will vanish before the
+resolutions of man. These feelings are transitory; each day of
+expectation delayed fills them with fear, and I almost dread a mutiny
+caused by this despair.
+
+September 5th.
+
+
+A scene has just passed of such uncommon interest that, although it is
+highly probable that these papers may never reach you, yet I cannot
+forbear recording it.
+
+We are still surrounded by mountains of ice, still in imminent danger
+of being crushed in their conflict. The cold is excessive, and many of
+my unfortunate comrades have already found a grave amidst this scene of
+desolation. Frankenstein has daily declined in health; a feverish fire
+still glimmers in his eyes, but he is exhausted, and when suddenly
+roused to any exertion, he speedily sinks again into apparent
+lifelessness.
+
+I mentioned in my last letter the fears I entertained of a mutiny.
+This morning, as I sat watching the wan countenance of my friend—his
+eyes half closed and his limbs hanging listlessly—I was roused by half
+a dozen of the sailors, who demanded admission into the cabin. They
+entered, and their leader addressed me. He told me that he and his
+companions had been chosen by the other sailors to come in deputation
+to me to make me a requisition which, in justice, I could not refuse.
+We were immured in ice and should probably never escape, but they
+feared that if, as was possible, the ice should dissipate and a free
+passage be opened, I should be rash enough to continue my voyage and
+lead them into fresh dangers, after they might happily have surmounted
+this. They insisted, therefore, that I should engage with a solemn
+promise that if the vessel should be freed I would instantly direct my
+course southwards.
+
+This speech troubled me. I had not despaired, nor had I yet conceived
+the idea of returning if set free. Yet could I, in justice, or even in
+possibility, refuse this demand? I hesitated before I answered, when
+Frankenstein, who had at first been silent, and indeed appeared hardly
+to have force enough to attend, now roused himself; his eyes sparkled,
+and his cheeks flushed with momentary vigour. Turning towards the men,
+he said,
+
+“What do you mean? What do you demand of your captain? Are you, then,
+so easily turned from your design? Did you not call this a glorious
+expedition? “And wherefore was it glorious? Not because the way was
+smooth and placid as a southern sea, but because it was full of dangers and
+terror, because at every new incident your fortitude was to be called forth
+and your courage exhibited, because danger and death surrounded it, and
+these you were to brave and overcome. For this was it a glorious, for this
+was it an honourable undertaking. You were hereafter to be hailed as the
+benefactors of your species, your names adored as belonging to brave men
+who encountered death for honour and the benefit of mankind. And now,
+behold, with the first imagination of danger, or, if you will, the first
+mighty and terrific trial of your courage, you shrink away and are content
+to be handed down as men who had not strength enough to endure cold and
+peril; and so, poor souls, they were chilly and returned to their warm
+firesides. Why, that requires not this preparation; ye need not have come
+thus far and dragged your captain to the shame of a defeat merely to prove
+yourselves cowards. Oh! Be men, or be more than men. Be steady to your
+purposes and firm as a rock. This ice is not made of such stuff as your
+hearts may be; it is mutable and cannot withstand you if you say that it
+shall not. Do not return to your families with the stigma of disgrace
+marked on your brows. Return as heroes who have fought and conquered and
+who know not what it is to turn their backs on the foe.”
+
+He spoke this with a voice so modulated to the different feelings expressed
+in his speech, with an eye so full of lofty design and heroism, that can
+you wonder that these men were moved? They looked at one another and were
+unable to reply. I spoke; I told them to retire and consider of what had
+been said, that I would not lead them farther north if they strenuously
+desired the contrary, but that I hoped that, with reflection, their courage
+would return.
+
+They retired and I turned towards my friend, but he was sunk in languor and
+almost deprived of life.
+
+How all this will terminate, I know not, but I had rather die than
+return shamefully, my purpose unfulfilled. Yet I fear such will be my
+fate; the men, unsupported by ideas of glory and honour, can never
+willingly continue to endure their present hardships.
+
+September 7th.
+
+
+The die is cast; I have consented to return if we are not destroyed.
+Thus are my hopes blasted by cowardice and indecision; I come back
+ignorant and disappointed. It requires more philosophy than I possess
+to bear this injustice with patience.
+
+September 12th.
+
+
+It is past; I am returning to England. I have lost my hopes of utility
+and glory; I have lost my friend. But I will endeavour to detail these
+bitter circumstances to you, my dear sister; and while I am wafted
+towards England and towards you, I will not despond.
+
+September 9th, the ice began to move, and roarings like thunder were heard
+at a distance as the islands split and cracked in every direction. We were
+in the most imminent peril, but as we could only remain passive, my chief
+attention was occupied by my unfortunate guest whose illness increased in
+such a degree that he was entirely confined to his bed. The ice cracked
+behind us and was driven with force towards the north; a breeze sprang from
+the west, and on the 11th the passage towards the south became perfectly
+free. When the sailors saw this and that their return to their native
+country was apparently assured, a shout of tumultuous joy broke from them,
+loud and long-continued. Frankenstein, who was dozing, awoke and asked the
+cause of the tumult. “They shout,” I said, “because they
+will soon return to England.”
+
+“Do you, then, really return?”
+
+“Alas! Yes; I cannot withstand their demands. I cannot lead them
+unwillingly to danger, and I must return.”
+
+“Do so, if you will; but I will not. You may give up your purpose, but
+mine is assigned to me by Heaven, and I dare not. I am weak, but
+surely the spirits who assist my vengeance will endow me with
+sufficient strength.” Saying this, he endeavoured to spring from the
+bed, but the exertion was too great for him; he fell back and fainted.
+
+It was long before he was restored, and I often thought that life was
+entirely extinct. At length he opened his eyes; he breathed with
+difficulty and was unable to speak. The surgeon gave him a composing
+draught and ordered us to leave him undisturbed. In the meantime he
+told me that my friend had certainly not many hours to live.
+
+His sentence was pronounced, and I could only grieve and be patient. I sat
+by his bed, watching him; his eyes were closed, and I thought he slept; but
+presently he called to me in a feeble voice, and bidding me come near,
+said, “Alas! The strength I relied on is gone; I feel that I shall
+soon die, and he, my enemy and persecutor, may still be in being. Think
+not, Walton, that in the last moments of my existence I feel that burning
+hatred and ardent desire of revenge I once expressed; but I feel myself
+justified in desiring the death of my adversary. During these last days I
+have been occupied in examining my past conduct; nor do I find it blamable.
+In a fit of enthusiastic madness I created a rational creature and was
+bound towards him to assure, as far as was in my power, his happiness and
+well-being. This was my duty, but there was another still paramount to
+that. My duties towards the beings of my own species had greater claims to
+my attention because they included a greater proportion of happiness or
+misery. Urged by this view, I refused, and I did right in refusing, to
+create a companion for the first creature. He showed unparalleled malignity
+and selfishness in evil; he destroyed my friends; he devoted to destruction
+beings who possessed exquisite sensations, happiness, and wisdom; nor do I
+know where this thirst for vengeance may end. Miserable himself that he may
+render no other wretched, he ought to die. The task of his destruction was
+mine, but I have failed. When actuated by selfish and vicious motives, I
+asked you to undertake my unfinished work, and I renew this request now,
+when I am only induced by reason and virtue.
+
+“Yet I cannot ask you to renounce your country and friends to fulfil
+this task; and now that you are returning to England, you will have
+little chance of meeting with him. But the consideration of these
+points, and the well balancing of what you may esteem your duties, I
+leave to you; my judgment and ideas are already disturbed by the near
+approach of death. I dare not ask you to do what I think right, for I
+may still be misled by passion.
+
+“That he should live to be an instrument of mischief disturbs me; in
+other respects, this hour, when I momentarily expect my release, is the
+only happy one which I have enjoyed for several years. The forms of
+the beloved dead flit before me, and I hasten to their arms. Farewell,
+Walton! Seek happiness in tranquillity and avoid ambition, even if it
+be only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in
+science and discoveries. Yet why do I say this? I have myself been
+blasted in these hopes, yet another may succeed.”
+
+His voice became fainter as he spoke, and at length, exhausted by his
+effort, he sank into silence. About half an hour afterwards he
+attempted again to speak but was unable; he pressed my hand feebly, and
+his eyes closed for ever, while the irradiation of a gentle smile passed
+away from his lips.
+
+Margaret, what comment can I make on the untimely extinction of this
+glorious spirit? What can I say that will enable you to understand the
+depth of my sorrow? All that I should express would be inadequate and
+feeble. My tears flow; my mind is overshadowed by a cloud of
+disappointment. But I journey towards England, and I may there find
+consolation.
+
+I am interrupted. What do these sounds portend? It is midnight; the
+breeze blows fairly, and the watch on deck scarcely stir. Again there
+is a sound as of a human voice, but hoarser; it comes from the cabin
+where the remains of Frankenstein still lie. I must arise and examine.
+Good night, my sister.
+
+Great God! what a scene has just taken place! I am yet dizzy with the
+remembrance of it. I hardly know whether I shall have the power to detail
+it; yet the tale which I have recorded would be incomplete without this
+final and wonderful catastrophe.
+
+I entered the cabin where lay the remains of my ill-fated and admirable
+friend. Over him hung a form which I cannot find words to
+describe—gigantic in stature, yet uncouth and distorted in its
+proportions. As he hung over the coffin, his face was concealed by long
+locks of ragged hair; but one vast hand was extended, in colour and
+apparent texture like that of a mummy. When he heard the sound of my
+approach, he ceased to utter exclamations of grief and horror and sprung
+towards the window. Never did I behold a vision so horrible as his face, of
+such loathsome yet appalling hideousness. I shut my eyes involuntarily and
+endeavoured to recollect what were my duties with regard to this destroyer.
+I called on him to stay.
+
+He paused, looking on me with wonder, and again turning towards the
+lifeless form of his creator, he seemed to forget my presence, and
+every feature and gesture seemed instigated by the wildest rage of some
+uncontrollable passion.
+
+“That is also my victim!” he exclaimed. “In his murder my
+crimes are consummated; the miserable series of my being is wound to its
+close! Oh, Frankenstein! Generous and self-devoted being! What does it
+avail that I now ask thee to pardon me? I, who irretrievably destroyed thee
+by destroying all thou lovedst. Alas! He is cold, he cannot answer
+me.”
+
+His voice seemed suffocated, and my first impulses, which had suggested to
+me the duty of obeying the dying request of my friend in destroying his
+enemy, were now suspended by a mixture of curiosity and compassion. I
+approached this tremendous being; I dared not again raise my eyes to his
+face, there was something so scaring and unearthly in his ugliness. I
+attempted to speak, but the words died away on my lips. The monster
+continued to utter wild and incoherent self-reproaches. At length I
+gathered resolution to address him in a pause of the tempest of his passion.
+
+“Your repentance,” I said, “is now superfluous. If you
+had listened to the voice of conscience and heeded the stings of remorse
+before you had urged your diabolical vengeance to this extremity,
+Frankenstein would yet have lived.”
+
+“And do you dream?” said the dæmon. “Do you think that I was then
+dead to agony and remorse? He,” he continued, pointing to the corpse,
+“he suffered not in the consummation of the deed. Oh! Not the
+ten-thousandth portion of the anguish that was mine during the
+lingering detail of its execution. A frightful selfishness hurried me
+on, while my heart was poisoned with remorse. Think you that the
+groans of Clerval were music to my ears? My heart was fashioned to be
+susceptible of love and sympathy, and when wrenched by misery to vice
+and hatred, it did not endure the violence of the change without
+torture such as you cannot even imagine.
+
+“After the murder of Clerval I returned to Switzerland, heart-broken
+and overcome. I pitied Frankenstein; my pity amounted to horror; I
+abhorred myself. But when I discovered that he, the author at once of
+my existence and of its unspeakable torments, dared to hope for
+happiness, that while he accumulated wretchedness and despair upon me
+he sought his own enjoyment in feelings and passions from the
+indulgence of which I was for ever barred, then impotent envy and bitter
+indignation filled me with an insatiable thirst for vengeance. I
+recollected my threat and resolved that it should be accomplished. I
+knew that I was preparing for myself a deadly torture, but I was the
+slave, not the master, of an impulse which I detested yet could not
+disobey. Yet when she died! Nay, then I was not miserable. I had
+cast off all feeling, subdued all anguish, to riot in the excess of my
+despair. Evil thenceforth became my good. Urged thus far, I had no
+choice but to adapt my nature to an element which I had willingly
+chosen. The completion of my demoniacal design became an insatiable
+passion. And now it is ended; there is my last victim!”
+
+I was at first touched by the expressions of his misery; yet, when I called
+to mind what Frankenstein had said of his powers of eloquence and
+persuasion, and when I again cast my eyes on the lifeless form of my
+friend, indignation was rekindled within me. “Wretch!” I said.
+“It is well that you come here to whine over the desolation that you
+have made. You throw a torch into a pile of buildings, and when they are
+consumed, you sit among the ruins and lament the fall. Hypocritical fiend!
+If he whom you mourn still lived, still would he be the object, again would
+he become the prey, of your accursed vengeance. It is not pity that you
+feel; you lament only because the victim of your malignity is withdrawn
+from your power.”
+
+“Oh, it is not thus—not thus,” interrupted the being.
+“Yet such must be the impression conveyed to you by what appears to
+be the purport of my actions. Yet I seek not a fellow feeling in my misery.
+No sympathy may I ever find. When I first sought it, it was the love of
+virtue, the feelings of happiness and affection with which my whole being
+overflowed, that I wished to be participated. But now that virtue has
+become to me a shadow, and that happiness and affection are turned into
+bitter and loathing despair, in what should I seek for sympathy? I am
+content to suffer alone while my sufferings shall endure; when I die, I am
+well satisfied that abhorrence and opprobrium should load my memory. Once
+my fancy was soothed with dreams of virtue, of fame, and of enjoyment. Once
+I falsely hoped to meet with beings who, pardoning my outward form, would
+love me for the excellent qualities which I was capable of unfolding. I was
+nourished with high thoughts of honour and devotion. But now crime has
+degraded me beneath the meanest animal. No guilt, no mischief, no
+malignity, no misery, can be found comparable to mine. When I run over the
+frightful catalogue of my sins, I cannot believe that I am the same
+creature whose thoughts were once filled with sublime and transcendent
+visions of the beauty and the majesty of goodness. But it is even so; the
+fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man
+had friends and associates in his desolation; I am alone.
+
+“You, who call Frankenstein your friend, seem to have a knowledge of my
+crimes and his misfortunes. But in the detail which he gave you of them
+he could not sum up the hours and months of misery which I endured
+wasting in impotent passions. For while I destroyed his hopes, I did
+not satisfy my own desires. They were for ever ardent and craving; still
+I desired love and fellowship, and I was still spurned. Was there no
+injustice in this? Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all
+humankind sinned against me? Why do you not hate Felix, who drove his
+friend from his door with contumely? Why do you not execrate the rustic
+who sought to destroy the saviour of his child? Nay, these are virtuous
+and immaculate beings! I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an
+abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on. Even now my
+blood boils at the recollection of this injustice.
+
+“But it is true that I am a wretch. I have murdered the lovely and
+the helpless; I have strangled the innocent as they slept and grasped to
+death his throat who never injured me or any other living thing. I have
+devoted my creator, the select specimen of all that is worthy of love and
+admiration among men, to misery; I have pursued him even to that
+irremediable ruin. There he lies, white and cold in death. You hate me, but
+your abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself. I look on the
+hands which executed the deed; I think on the heart in which the
+imagination of it was conceived and long for the moment when these hands
+will meet my eyes, when that imagination will haunt my thoughts no more.
+
+“Fear not that I shall be the instrument of future mischief. My work
+is nearly complete. Neither yours nor any man’s death is needed to
+consummate the series of my being and accomplish that which must be done,
+but it requires my own. Do not think that I shall be slow to perform this
+sacrifice. I shall quit your vessel on the ice raft which brought me
+thither and shall seek the most northern extremity of the globe; I shall
+collect my funeral pile and consume to ashes this miserable frame, that its
+remains may afford no light to any curious and unhallowed wretch who would
+create such another as I have been. I shall die. I shall no longer feel the
+agonies which now consume me or be the prey of feelings unsatisfied, yet
+unquenched. He is dead who called me into being; and when I shall be no
+more, the very remembrance of us both will speedily vanish. I shall no
+longer see the sun or stars or feel the winds play on my cheeks. Light,
+feeling, and sense will pass away; and in this condition must I find my
+happiness. Some years ago, when the images which this world affords first
+opened upon me, when I felt the cheering warmth of summer and heard the
+rustling of the leaves and the warbling of the birds, and these were all to
+me, I should have wept to die; now it is my only consolation. Polluted by
+crimes and torn by the bitterest remorse, where can I find rest but in
+death?
+
+“Farewell! I leave you, and in you the last of humankind whom these
+eyes will ever behold. Farewell, Frankenstein! If thou wert yet alive
+and yet cherished a desire of revenge against me, it would be better
+satiated in my life than in my destruction. But it was not so; thou
+didst seek my extinction, that I might not cause greater wretchedness;
+and if yet, in some mode unknown to me, thou hadst not ceased to think
+and feel, thou wouldst not desire against me a vengeance greater than
+that which I feel. Blasted as thou wert, my agony was still superior to
+thine, for the bitter sting of remorse will not cease to rankle in my
+wounds until death shall close them for ever.
+
+“But soon,” he cried with sad and solemn enthusiasm, “I
+shall die, and what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning
+miseries will be extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pile triumphantly and
+exult in the agony of the torturing flames. The light of that conflagration
+will fade away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spirit
+will sleep in peace, or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus.
+Farewell.”
+
+He sprang from the cabin-window as he said this, upon the ice raft
+which lay close to the vessel. He was soon borne away by the waves and
+lost in darkness and distance.
+
+
+
+
+
+        
+            *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRANKENSTEIN; OR, THE MODERN PROMETHEUS ***
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author	Luke T. Shumaker <lukeshu@umorpha.io>	2024-03-31 23:32:35 -0600
committer	Luke T. Shumaker <lukeshu@umorpha.io>	2024-03-31 23:32:35 -0600
commit	cf1509f8dcb588ac8367dc19304ac3b6867c86f2 (patch)
tree	abf9cbec5ccc280001ff08f1d5d1fd18a69c8bac
parent	5c3400e00eb8a19c35e7610d04085474a0fc0aec (diff)