The Project Gutenberg E-text of Frankenstein, by Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley (2024)

Project Gutenberg's Frankenstein, by Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) ShelleyThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.netTitle: Frankenstein or The Modern PrometheusAuthor: Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) ShelleyRelease Date: June 17, 2008 [EBook #84]Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: ISO-8859-1*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRANKENSTEIN ***Produced by Judith Boss, Christy Phillips, Lynn Hanninen,and David Meltzer. HTML version by Al Haines.

or the Modern Prometheus

by

Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley

CONTENTS

Letter 1

You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied thecommencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evilforebodings. I arrived here yesterday, and my first task is to assuremy dear sister of my welfare and increasing confidence in the successof my undertaking.

I am already far north of London, and as I walk in the streets ofPetersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, whichbraces my nerves and fills me with delight. Do you understand thisfeeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions towardswhich I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes.Inspirited by this wind of promise, my daydreams become more ferventand vivid. I try in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seat offrost and desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as theregion of beauty and delight. There, Margaret, the sun is forevervisible, its broad disk just skirting the horizon and diffusing aperpetual splendour. There—for with your leave, my sister, I will putsome trust in preceding navigators—there snow and frost are banished;and, sailing over a calm sea, we may be wafted to a land surpassing inwonders and in beauty every region hitherto discovered on the habitableglobe. Its productions and features may be without example, as thephenomena of the heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscoveredsolitudes. What may not be expected in a country of eternal light? Imay there discover the wondrous power which attracts the needle and mayregulate a thousand celestial observations that require only thisvoyage to render their seeming eccentricities consistent forever. Ishall satiate my ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the worldnever before visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted bythe foot of man. These are my enticements, and they are sufficient toconquer all fear of danger or death and to induce me to commence thislaborious voyage with the joy a child feels when he embarks in a littleboat, with his holiday mates, on an expedition of discovery up hisnative river. But supposing all these conjectures to be false, youcannot contest the inestimable benefit which I shall confer on allmankind, to the last generation, by discovering a passage near the poleto those countries, to reach which at present so many months arerequisite; or by ascertaining the secret of the magnet, which, if atall possible, can only be effected by an undertaking such as mine.

These reflections have dispelled the agitation with which I began myletter, and I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates meto heaven, for nothing contributes so much to tranquillize the mind asa steady purpose—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectualeye. This expedition has been the favourite dream of my early years. Ihave read with ardour the accounts of the various voyages which havebeen made in the prospect of arriving at the North Pacific Oceanthrough the seas which surround the pole. You may remember that ahistory of all the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed thewhole of our good Uncle Thomas' library. My education was neglected,yet I was passionately fond of reading. These volumes were my studyday and night, and my familiarity with them increased that regret whichI had felt, as a child, on learning that my father's dying injunctionhad forbidden my uncle to allow me to embark in a seafaring life.

These visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those poetswhose effusions entranced my soul and lifted it to heaven. I alsobecame 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 thenames of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated. You are wellacquainted with my failure and how heavily I bore the disappointment.But just at that time I inherited the fortune of my cousin, and mythoughts were turned into the channel of their earlier bent.

Six years have passed since I resolved on my present undertaking. Ican, even now, remember the hour from which I dedicated myself to thisgreat enterprise. I commenced by inuring my body to hardship. Iaccompanied the whale-fishers on several expeditions to the North Sea;I voluntarily endured cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep; I oftenworked harder than the common sailors during the day and devoted mynights to the study of mathematics, the theory of medicine, and thosebranches of physical science from which a naval adventurer might derivethe greatest practical advantage. Twice I actually hired myself as anunder-mate in a Greenland whaler, and acquitted myself to admiration. Imust own I felt a little proud when my captain offered me the seconddignity in the vessel and entreated me to remain with the greatestearnestness, so valuable did he consider my services. And now, dearMargaret, do I not deserve to accomplish some great purpose? My lifemight have been passed in ease and luxury, but I preferred glory toevery enticement that wealth placed in my path. Oh, that someencouraging voice would answer in the affirmative! My courage and myresolution is firm; but my hopes fluctuate, and my spirits are oftendepressed. I am about to proceed on a long and difficult voyage, theemergencies of which will demand all my fortitude: I am required notonly 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 flyquickly over the snow in their sledges; the motion is pleasant, and, inmy opinion, far more agreeable than that of an English stagecoach. Thecold is not excessive, if you are wrapped in furs—a dress which I havealready adopted, for there is a great difference between walking thedeck and remaining seated motionless for hours, when no exerciseprevents the blood from actually freezing in your veins. I have noambition to lose my life on the post-road between St. Petersburgh andArchangel. I shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight or threeweeks; and my intention is to hire a ship there, which can easily bedone by paying the insurance for the owner, and to engage as manysailors as I think necessary among those who are accustomed to thewhale-fishing. I do not intend to sail until the month of June; andwhen shall I return? Ah, dear sister, how can I answer this question?If I succeed, many, many months, perhaps years, will pass before youand I may meet. If I fail, you will see me again soon, or never.Farewell, my dear, excellent Margaret. Heaven shower down blessings onyou, and save me, that I may again and again testify my gratitude forall your love and kindness.

Your affectionate brother,R. Walton

Letter 2

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 avessel and am occupied in collecting my sailors; those whom I havealready engaged appear to be men on whom I can depend and are certainlypossessed of dauntless courage.

But I have one want which I have never yet been able to satisfy, andthe absence of the object of which I now feel as a most severe evil, Ihave no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm ofsuccess, there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed bydisappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection. Ishall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true; but that is a poormedium for the communication of feeling. I desire the company of a manwho could sympathize with me, whose eyes would reply to mine. You maydeem me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel the want of afriend. I have no one near me, gentle yet courageous, possessed of acultivated as well as of a capacious mind, whose tastes are like myown, to approve or amend my plans. How would such a friend repair thefaults of your poor brother! I am too ardent in execution and tooimpatient of difficulties. But it is a still greater evil to me that Iam self-educated: for the first fourteen years of my life I ran wildon a common and read nothing but our Uncle Thomas' books of voyages. Atthat age I became acquainted with the celebrated poets of our owncountry; but it was only when it had ceased to be in my power to deriveits most important benefits from such a conviction that I perceived thenecessity of becoming acquainted with more languages than that of mynative country. Now I am twenty-eight and am in reality moreilliterate than many schoolboys of fifteen. It is true that I havethought more and that my daydreams are more extended and magnificent,but they want (as the painters call it) KEEPING; and I greatly need afriend who would have sense enough not to despise me as romantic, andaffection enough for me to endeavour to regulate my mind. Well, theseare useless complaints; I shall certainly find no friend on the wideocean, nor even here in Archangel, among merchants and seamen. Yetsome feelings, unallied to the dross of human nature, beat even inthese rugged bosoms. My lieutenant, for instance, is a man ofwonderful courage and enterprise; he is madly desirous of glory, orrather, to word my phrase more characteristically, of advancement inhis profession. He is an Englishman, and in the midst of national andprofessional prejudices, unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of thenoblest endowments of humanity. I first became acquainted with him onboard a whale vessel; finding that he was unemployed in this city, Ieasily engaged him to assist in my enterprise. The master is a personof an excellent disposition and is remarkable in the ship for hisgentleness and the mildness of his discipline. This circ*mstance,added to his well-known integrity and dauntless courage, made me verydesirous to engage him. A youth passed in solitude, my best yearsspent under your gentle and feminine fosterage, has so refined thegroundwork of my character that I cannot overcome an intense distasteto the usual brutality exercised on board ship: I have never believedit to be necessary, and when I heard of a mariner equally noted for hiskindliness of heart and the respect and obedience paid to him by hiscrew, I felt myself peculiarly fortunate in being able to secure hisservices. I heard of him first in rather a romantic manner, from alady who owes to him the happiness of her life. This, briefly, is hisstory. Some years ago he loved a young Russian lady of moderatefortune, and having amassed a considerable sum in prize-money, thefather of the girl consented to the match. He saw his mistress oncebefore the destined ceremony; but she was bathed in tears, and throwingherself at his feet, entreated him to spare her, confessing at the sametime that she loved another, but that he was poor, and that her fatherwould never consent to the union. My generous friend reassured thesuppliant, and on being informed of the name of her lover, instantlyabandoned his pursuit. He had already bought a farm with his money, onwhich he had designed to pass the remainder of his life; but hebestowed the whole on his rival, together with the remains of hisprize-money to purchase stock, and then himself solicited the youngwoman's father to consent to her marriage with her lover. But the oldman decidedly refused, thinking himself bound in honour to my friend,who, when he found the father inexorable, quitted his country, norreturned until he heard that his former mistress was married accordingto her inclinations. "What a noble fellow!" you will exclaim. He isso; but then he is wholly uneducated: he is as silent as a Turk, and akind of ignorant carelessness attends him, which, while it renders hisconduct the more astonishing, detracts from the interest and sympathywhich otherwise he would command.

Yet do not suppose, because I complain a little or because I canconceive a consolation for my toils which I may never know, that I amwavering in my resolutions. Those are as fixed as fate, and my voyageis only now delayed until the weather shall permit my embarkation. Thewinter has been dreadfully severe, but the spring promises well, and itis considered as a remarkably early season, so that perhaps I may sailsooner than I expected. I shall do nothing rashly: you know mesufficiently to confide in my prudence and considerateness whenever thesafety of others is committed to my care.

I cannot describe to you my sensations on the near prospect of myundertaking. It is impossible to communicate to you a conception ofthe trembling sensation, half pleasurable and half fearful, with whichI am preparing to depart. I am going to unexplored regions, to "theland of mist and snow," but I shall kill no albatross; therefore do notbe alarmed for my safety or if I should come back to you as worn andwoeful as the "Ancient Mariner." You will smile at my allusion, but Iwill disclose a secret. I have often attributed my attachment to, mypassionate enthusiasm for, the dangerous mysteries of ocean to thatproduction of the most imaginative of modern poets. There is somethingat work in my soul which I do not understand. I am practicallyindustrious—painstaking, a workman to execute with perseverance andlabour—but besides this there is a love for the marvellous, a beliefin the marvellous, intertwined in all my projects, which hurries me outof the common pathways of men, even to the wild sea and unvisitedregions I am about to explore. But to return to dearer considerations.Shall I meet you again, after having traversed immense seas, andreturned by the most southern cape of Africa or America? I dare notexpect such success, yet I cannot bear to look on the reverse of thepicture. Continue for the present to write to me by every opportunity:I may receive your letters on some occasions when I need them most tosupport my spirits. I love you very tenderly. Remember me withaffection, should you never hear from me again.

Your affectionate brother, Robert Walton

Letter 3

My dear Sister,

I write a few lines in haste to say that I am safe—and well advancedon my voyage. This letter will reach England by a merchantman now onits homeward voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may notsee my native land, perhaps, for many years. I am, however, in goodspirits: my men are bold and apparently firm of purpose, nor do thefloating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the dangersof the region towards which we are advancing, appear to dismay them. Wehave already reached a very high latitude; but it is the height ofsummer, and although not so warm as in England, the southern gales,which blow us speedily towards those shores which I so ardently desireto attain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth which I had notexpected.

No incidents have hitherto befallen us that would make a figure in aletter. One or two stiff gales and the springing of a leak areaccidents which experienced navigators scarcely remember to record, andI 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 asyours, I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool,persevering, and prudent.

But success SHALL crown my endeavours. Wherefore not? Thus far I havegone, tracing a secure way over the pathless seas, the very starsthemselves being witnesses and testimonies of my triumph. Why notstill proceed over the untamed yet obedient element? What can stop thedetermined heart and resolved will of man?

My swelling heart involuntarily pours itself out thus. But I mustfinish. Heaven bless my beloved sister!

R.W.

Letter 4

So strange an accident has happened to us that I cannot forbearrecording it, although it is very probable that you will see me beforethese papers can come into your possession.

Last Monday (July 31st) we were nearly surrounded by ice, which closedin the ship on all sides, scarcely leaving her the sea-room in whichshe floated. Our situation was somewhat dangerous, especially as wewere 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 outin every direction, vast and irregular plains of ice, which seemed tohave no end. Some of my comrades groaned, and my own mind began togrow watchful with anxious thoughts, when a strange sight suddenlyattracted our attention and diverted our solicitude from our ownsituation. We perceived a low carriage, fixed on a sledge and drawn bydogs, pass on towards the north, at the distance of half a mile; abeing which had the shape of a man, but apparently of gigantic stature,sat in the sledge and guided the dogs. We watched the rapid progressof the traveller with our telescopes until he was lost among thedistant inequalities of the ice. This appearance excited ourunqualified wonder. We were, as we believed, many hundred miles fromany land; but this apparition seemed to denote that it was not, inreality, so distant as we had supposed. Shut in, however, by ice, itwas impossible to follow his track, which we had observed with thegreatest attention. About two hours after this occurrence we heard theground sea, and before night the ice broke and freed our ship. We,however, lay to until the morning, fearing to encounter in the darkthose large loose masses which float about after the breaking up of theice. 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 andfound all the sailors busy on one side of the vessel, apparentlytalking to someone in the sea. It was, in fact, a sledge, like that wehad seen before, which had drifted towards us in the night on a largefragment of ice. Only one dog remained alive; but there was a humanbeing within it whom the sailors were persuading to enter the vessel.He was not, as the other traveller seemed to be, a savage inhabitant ofsome undiscovered island, but a European. When I appeared on deck themaster said, "Here is our captain, and he will not allow you to perishon the open sea."

On perceiving me, the stranger addressed me in English, although with aforeign accent. "Before I come on board your vessel," said he, "willyou have the kindness to inform me whither you are bound?"

You may conceive my astonishment on hearing such a question addressedto me from a man on the brink of destruction and to whom I should havesupposed that my vessel would have been a resource which he would nothave exchanged for the most precious wealth the earth can afford. Ireplied, however, that we were on a voyage of discovery towards thenorthern 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 forhis safety, your surprise would have been boundless. His limbs werenearly frozen, and his body dreadfully emaciated by fatigue andsuffering. I never saw a man in so wretched a condition. We attemptedto carry him into the cabin, but as soon as he had quitted the freshair he fainted. We accordingly brought him back to the deck andrestored him to animation by rubbing him with brandy and forcing him toswallow a small quantity. As soon as he showed signs of life wewrapped him up in blankets and placed him near the chimney of thekitchen 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 oftenfeared that his sufferings had deprived him of understanding. When hehad in some measure recovered, I removed him to my own cabin andattended on him as much as my duty would permit. I never saw a moreinteresting creature: his eyes have generally an expression ofwildness, and even madness, but there are moments when, if anyoneperforms an act of kindness towards him or does him any the mosttrifling service, his whole countenance is lighted up, as it were, witha beam of benevolence and sweetness that I never saw equalled. But heis generally melancholy and despairing, and sometimes he gnashes histeeth, as if impatient of the weight of woes that oppresses him.

When my guest was a little recovered I had great trouble to keep offthe men, who wished to ask him a thousand questions; but I would notallow him to be tormented by their idle curiosity, in a state of bodyand mind whose restoration evidently depended upon entire repose.Once, however, the lieutenant asked why he had come so far upon the icein so strange a vehicle.

His countenance instantly assumed an aspect of the deepest gloom, andhe 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 wesaw some dogs drawing a sledge, with a man in it, across the ice."

This aroused the stranger's attention, and he asked a multitude ofquestions concerning the route which the demon, as he called him, hadpursued. Soon after, when he was alone with me, he said, "I have,doubtless, excited your curiosity, as well as that of these goodpeople; but you are too considerate to make inquiries."

"Certainly; it would indeed be very impertinent and inhuman in me totrouble you with any inquisitiveness of mine."

"And yet you rescued me from a strange and perilous situation; you havebenevolently restored me to life."

Soon after this he inquired if I thought that the breaking up of theice had destroyed the other sledge. I replied that I could not answerwith any degree of certainty, for the ice had not broken until nearmidnight, and the traveller might have arrived at a place of safetybefore that time; but of this I could not judge. From this time a newspirit of life animated the decaying frame of the stranger. Hemanifested the greatest eagerness to be upon deck to watch for thesledge which had before appeared; but I have persuaded him to remain inthe cabin, for he is far too weak to sustain the rawness of theatmosphere. I have promised that someone should watch for him and givehim instant notice if any new object should appear in sight.

Such is my journal of what relates to this strange occurrence up to thepresent day. The stranger has gradually improved in health but is verysilent and appears uneasy when anyone except myself enters his cabin.Yet his manners are so conciliating and gentle that the sailors are allinterested in him, although they have had very little communicationwith him. For my own part, I begin to love him as a brother, and hisconstant and deep grief fills me with sympathy and compassion. He musthave been a noble creature in his better days, being even now in wreckso attractive and amiable. I said in one of my letters, my dearMargaret, that I should find no friend on the wide ocean; yet I havefound a man who, before his spirit had been broken by misery, I shouldhave 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 myadmiration and my pity to an astonishing degree. How can I see sonoble a creature destroyed by misery without feeling the most poignantgrief? He is so gentle, yet so wise; his mind is so cultivated, andwhen he speaks, although his words are culled with the choicest art,yet they flow with rapidity and unparalleled eloquence. He is now muchrecovered from his illness and is continually on the deck, apparentlywatching for the sledge that preceded his own. Yet, although unhappy,he is not so utterly occupied by his own misery but that he interestshimself deeply in the projects of others. He has frequently conversedwith me on mine, which I have communicated to him without disguise. Heentered attentively into all my arguments in favour of my eventualsuccess and into every minute detail of the measures I had taken tosecure it. I was easily led by the sympathy which he evinced to usethe language of my heart, to give utterance to the burning ardour of mysoul and to say, with all the fervour that warmed me, how gladly Iwould sacrifice my fortune, my existence, my every hope, to thefurtherance of my enterprise. One man's life or death were but a smallprice to pay for the acquirement of the knowledge which I sought, forthe dominion I should acquire and transmit over the elemental foes ofour race. As I spoke, a dark gloom spread over my listener'scountenance. At first I perceived that he tried to suppress hisemotion; he placed his hands before his eyes, and my voice quivered andfailed me as I beheld tears trickle fast from between his fingers; agroan burst from his heaving breast. I paused; at length he spoke, inbroken accents: "Unhappy man! Do you share my madness? Have youdrunk also of the intoxicating draught? Hear me; let me reveal mytale, and you will dash the cup from your lips!"

Such words, you may imagine, strongly excited my curiosity; but theparoxysm of grief that had seized the stranger overcame his weakenedpowers, and many hours of repose and tranquil conversation werenecessary to restore his composure. Having conquered the violence ofhis feelings, he appeared to despise himself for being the slave ofpassion; and quelling the dark tyranny of despair, he led me again toconverse concerning myself personally. He asked me the history of myearlier years. The tale was quickly told, but it awakened varioustrains of reflection. I spoke of my desire of finding a friend, of mythirst for a more intimate sympathy with a fellow mind than had everfallen to my lot, and expressed my conviction that a man could boast oflittle 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 tobe—do not lend his aid to perfectionate our weak and faulty natures. Ionce had a friend, the most noble of human creatures, and am entitled,therefore, to judge respecting friendship. You have hope, and theworld before you, and have no cause for despair. But I—I have losteverything and cannot begin life anew."

As he said this his countenance became expressive of a calm, settledgrief that touched me to the heart. But he was silent and presentlyretired to his cabin.

Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than hedoes the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sightafforded by these wonderful regions seem still to have the power ofelevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: hemay suffer misery and be overwhelmed by disappointments, yet when hehas retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has ahalo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.

Will you smile at the enthusiasm I express concerning this divinewanderer? You would not if you saw him. You have been tutored andrefined by books and retirement from the world, and you are thereforesomewhat fastidious; but this only renders you the more fit toappreciate the extraordinary merits of this wonderful man. Sometimes Ihave endeavoured to discover what quality it is which he possesses thatelevates him so immeasurably above any other person I ever knew. Ibelieve it to be an intuitive discernment, a quick but never-failingpower of judgment, a penetration into the causes of things, unequalledfor clearness and precision; add to this a facility of expression and avoice whose varied intonations are soul-subduing music.

August 19, 17—

Yesterday the stranger said to me, "You may easily perceive, CaptainWalton, that I have suffered great and unparalleled misfortunes. I haddetermined at one time that the memory of these evils should die withme, but you have won me to alter my determination. You seek forknowledge and wisdom, as I once did; and I ardently hope that thegratification of your wishes may not be a serpent to sting you, as minehas been. I do not know that the relation of my disasters will beuseful to you; yet, when I reflect that you are pursuing the samecourse, exposing yourself to the same dangers which have rendered mewhat I am, I imagine that you may deduce an apt moral from my tale, onethat may direct you if you succeed in your undertaking and console youin case of failure. Prepare to hear of occurrences which are usuallydeemed marvellous. Were we among the tamer scenes of nature I mightfear to encounter your unbelief, perhaps your ridicule; but many thingswill appear possible in these wild and mysterious regions which wouldprovoke the laughter of those unacquainted with the ever-varied powersof nature; nor can I doubt but that my tale conveys in its seriesinternal evidence of the truth of the events of which it is composed."

You may easily imagine that I was much gratified by the offeredcommunication, yet I could not endure that he should renew his grief bya recital of his misfortunes. I felt the greatest eagerness to hearthe promised narrative, partly from curiosity and partly from a strongdesire to ameliorate his fate if it were in my power. I expressedthese feelings in my answer.

"I thank you," he replied, "for your sympathy, but it is useless; myfate is nearly fulfilled. I wait but for one event, and then I shallrepose in peace. I understand your feeling," continued he, perceivingthat I wished to interrupt him; "but you are mistaken, my friend, ifthus you will allow me to name you; nothing can alter my destiny;listen to my history, and you will perceive how irrevocably it isdetermined."

He then told me that he would commence his narrative the next day whenI should be at leisure. This promise drew from me the warmest thanks.I have resolved every night, when I am not imperatively occupied by myduties, to record, as nearly as possible in his own words, what he hasrelated during the day. If I should be engaged, I will at least makenotes. This manuscript will doubtless afford you the greatestpleasure; but to me, who know him, and who hear it from his ownlips—with what interest and sympathy shall I read it in some futureday! Even now, as I commence my task, his full-toned voice swells inmy ears; his lustrous eyes dwell on me with all their melancholysweetness; I see his thin hand raised in animation, while thelineaments of his face are irradiated by the soul within.

Strange and harrowing must be his story, frightful the storm whichembraced 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 mostdistinguished of that republic. My ancestors had been for many yearscounsellors and syndics, and my father had filled several publicsituations with honour and reputation. He was respected by all whoknew him for his integrity and indefatigable attention to publicbusiness. He passed his younger days perpetually occupied by theaffairs of his country; a variety of circ*mstances had prevented hismarrying early, nor was it until the decline of life that he became ahusband and the father of a family.

As the circ*mstances of his marriage illustrate his character, I cannotrefrain from relating them. One of his most intimate friends was amerchant who, from a flourishing state, fell, through numerousmischances, into poverty. This man, whose name was Beaufort, was of aproud and unbending disposition and could not bear to live in povertyand oblivion in the same country where he had formerly beendistinguished for his rank and magnificence. Having paid his debts,therefore, in the most honourable manner, he retreated with hisdaughter to the town of Lucerne, where he lived unknown and inwretchedness. My father loved Beaufort with the truest friendship andwas deeply grieved by his retreat in these unfortunate circ*mstances.He bitterly deplored the false pride which led his friend to a conductso little worthy of the affection that united them. He lost no time inendeavouring to seek him out, with the hope of persuading him to beginthe world again through his credit and assistance. Beaufort had takeneffectual measures to conceal himself, and it was ten months before myfather discovered his abode. Overjoyed at this discovery, he hastenedto the house, which was situated in a mean street near the Reuss. Butwhen he entered, misery and despair alone welcomed him. Beaufort hadsaved but a very small sum of money from the wreck of his fortunes, butit was sufficient to provide him with sustenance for some months, andin the meantime he hoped to procure some respectable employment in amerchant's house. The interval was, consequently, spent in inaction;his grief only became more deep and rankling when he had leisure forreflection, and at length it took so fast hold of his mind that at theend of three months he lay on a bed of sickness, incapable of anyexertion.

His daughter attended him with the greatest tenderness, but she sawwith despair that their little fund was rapidly decreasing and thatthere was no other prospect of support. But Caroline Beaufortpossessed a mind of an uncommon mould, and her courage rose to supporther in her adversity. She procured plain work; she plaited straw andby various means contrived to earn a pittance scarcely sufficient tosupport life.

Several months passed in this manner. Her father grew worse; her timewas more entirely occupied in attending him; her means of subsistencedecreased; and in the tenth month her father died in her arms, leavingher an orphan and a beggar. This last blow overcame her, and she kneltby Beaufort's coffin weeping bitterly, when my father entered thechamber. He came like a protecting spirit to the poor girl, whocommitted herself to his care; and after the interment of his friend heconducted her to Geneva and placed her under the protection of arelation. Two years after this event Caroline became his wife.

There was a considerable difference between the ages of my parents, butthis circ*mstance seemed to unite them only closer in bonds of devotedaffection. There was a sense of justice in my father's upright mindwhich rendered it necessary that he should approve highly to lovestrongly. Perhaps during former years he had suffered from thelate-discovered unworthiness of one beloved and so was disposed to seta greater value on tried worth. There was a show of gratitude andworship in his attachment to my mother, differing wholly from thedoting fondness of age, for it was inspired by reverence for hervirtues and a desire to be the means of, in some degree, recompensingher for the sorrows she had endured, but which gave inexpressible graceto his behaviour to her. Everything was made to yield to her wishesand her convenience. He strove to shelter her, as a fair exotic issheltered by the gardener, from every rougher wind and to surround herwith all that could tend to excite pleasurable emotion in her soft andbenevolent mind. Her health, and even the tranquillity of her hithertoconstant spirit, had been shaken by what she had gone through. Duringthe two years that had elapsed previous to their marriage my father hadgradually relinquished all his public functions; and immediately aftertheir union they sought the pleasant climate of Italy, and the changeof 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, wasborn at Naples, and as an infant accompanied them in their rambles. Iremained for several years their only child. Much as they wereattached to each other, they seemed to draw inexhaustible stores ofaffection from a very mine of love to bestow them upon me. My mother'stender caresses and my father's smile of benevolent pleasure whileregarding me are my first recollections. I was their plaything andtheir idol, and something better—their child, the innocent andhelpless 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 ormisery, according as they fulfilled their duties towards me. With thisdeep consciousness of what they owed towards the being to which theyhad given life, added to the active spirit of tenderness that animatedboth, it may be imagined that while during every hour of my infant lifeI received a lesson of patience, of charity, and of self-control, I wasso guided by a silken cord that all seemed but one train of enjoymentto me. For a long time I was their only care. My mother had muchdesired to have a daughter, but I continued their single offspring.When I was about five years old, while making an excursion beyond thefrontiers of Italy, they passed a week on the shores of the Lake ofComo. Their benevolent disposition often made them enter the cottagesof the poor. This, to my mother, was more than a duty; it was anecessity, a passion—remembering what she had suffered, and how shehad been relieved—for her to act in her turn the guardian angel to theafflicted. During one of their walks a poor cot in the foldings of avale attracted their notice as being singularly disconsolate, while thenumber of half-clothed children gathered about it spoke of penury inits worst shape. One day, when my father had gone by himself to Milan,my mother, accompanied by me, visited this abode. She found a peasantand his wife, hard working, bent down by care and labour, distributinga scanty meal to five hungry babes. Among these there was one whichattracted my mother far above all the rest. She appeared of adifferent stock. The four others were dark-eyed, hardy littlevagrants; this child was thin and very fair. Her hair was thebrightest living gold, and despite the poverty of her clothing, seemedto set a crown of distinction on her head. Her brow was clear andample, her blue eyes cloudless, and her lips and the moulding of herface so expressive of sensibility and sweetness that none could beholdher without looking on her as of a distinct species, a beingheaven-sent, and bearing a celestial stamp in all her features. Thepeasant woman, perceiving that my mother fixed eyes of wonder andadmiration on this lovely girl, eagerly communicated her history. Shewas not her child, but the daughter of a Milanese nobleman. Her motherwas a German and had died on giving her birth. The infant had beenplaced with these good people to nurse: they were better off then.They had not been long married, and their eldest child was but justborn. The father of their charge was one of those Italians nursed inthe memory of the antique glory of Italy—one among the schiavi ognorfrementi, who exerted himself to obtain the liberty of his country. Hebecame the victim of its weakness. Whether he had died or stilllingered in the dungeons of Austria was not known. His property wasconfiscated; his child became an orphan and a beggar. She continuedwith her foster parents and bloomed in their rude abode, fairer than agarden rose among dark-leaved brambles. When my father returned fromMilan, he found playing with me in the hall of our villa a child fairerthan pictured cherub—a creature who seemed to shed radiance from herlooks and whose form and motions were lighter than the chamois of thehills. The apparition was soon explained. With his permission mymother prevailed on her rustic guardians to yield their charge to her.They were fond of the sweet orphan. Her presence had seemed a blessingto them, but it would be unfair to her to keep her in poverty and wantwhen Providence afforded her such powerful protection. They consultedtheir village priest, and the result was that Elizabeth Lavenza becamethe inmate of my parents' house—my more than sister—the beautiful andadored companion of all my occupations and my pleasures.

Everyone loved Elizabeth. The passionate and almost reverentialattachment with which all regarded her became, while I shared it, mypride and my delight. On the evening previous to her being brought tomy home, my mother had said playfully, "I have a pretty present for myVictor—tomorrow he shall have it." And when, on the morrow, shepresented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childishseriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabethas mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed onher I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each otherfamiliarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could bodyforth the kind of relation in which she stood to me—my more thansister, since till death she was to be mine only.

Chapter 2

We were brought up together; there was not quite a year difference inour ages. I need not say that we were strangers to any species ofdisunion or dispute. Harmony was the soul of our companionship, andthe diversity and contrast that subsisted in our characters drew usnearer together. Elizabeth was of a calmer and more concentrateddisposition; but, with all my ardour, I was capable of a more intenseapplication 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 ofour Alpine summers—she found ample scope for admiration and delight.While my companion contemplated with a serious and satisfied spirit themagnificent appearances of things, I delighted in investigating theircauses. 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 theearliest sensations I can remember.

On the birth of a second son, my junior by seven years, my parents gaveup entirely their wandering life and fixed themselves in their nativecountry. We possessed a house in Geneva, and a campagne on Belrive,the eastern shore of the lake, at the distance of rather more than aleague from the city. We resided principally in the latter, and thelives of my parents were passed in considerable seclusion. It was mytemper to avoid a crowd and to attach myself fervently to a few. I wasindifferent, therefore, to my school-fellows in general; but I unitedmyself in the bonds of the closest friendship to one among them. HenryClerval was the son of a merchant of Geneva. He was a boy of singulartalent and fancy. He loved enterprise, hardship, and even danger forits own sake. He was deeply read in books of chivalry and romance. Hecomposed heroic songs and began to write many a tale of enchantment andknightly adventure. He tried to make us act plays and to enter intomasquerades, in which the characters were drawn from the heroes ofRoncesvalles, of the Round Table of King Arthur, and the chivalroustrain who shed their blood to redeem the holy sepulchre from the handsof the infidels.

No human being could have passed a happier childhood than myself. Myparents were possessed by the very spirit of kindness and indulgence.We felt that they were not the tyrants to rule our lot according totheir caprice, but the agents and creators of all the many delightswhich we enjoyed. When I mingled with other families I distinctlydiscerned how peculiarly fortunate my lot was, and gratitude assistedthe development of filial love.

My temper was sometimes violent, and my passions vehement; but by somelaw in my temperature they were turned not towards childish pursuitsbut to an eager desire to learn, and not to learn all thingsindiscriminately. I confess that neither the structure of languages,nor the code of governments, nor the politics of various statespossessed attractions for me. It was the secrets of heaven and earththat I desired to learn; and whether it was the outward substance ofthings or the inner spirit of nature and the mysterious soul of manthat 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 moralrelations 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 wasto become one among those whose names are recorded in story as thegallant and adventurous benefactors of our species. The saintly soulof Elizabeth shone like a shrine-dedicated lamp in our peaceful home.Her sympathy was ours; her smile, her soft voice, the sweet glance ofher celestial eyes, were ever there to bless and animate us. She wasthe living spirit of love to soften and attract; I might have becomesullen in my study, rought through the ardour of my nature, but thatshe was there to subdue me to a semblance of her own gentleness. AndClerval—could aught ill entrench on the noble spirit of Clerval? Yethe might not have been so perfectly humane, so thoughtful in hisgenerosity, so full of kindness and tenderness amidst his passion foradventurous exploit, had she not unfolded to him the real loveliness ofbeneficence and made the doing good the end and aim of his soaringambition.

I feel exquisite pleasure in dwelling on the recollections ofchildhood, before misfortune had tainted my mind and changed its brightvisions of extensive usefulness into gloomy and narrow reflections uponself. Besides, in drawing the picture of my early days, I also recordthose events which led, by insensible steps, to my after tale ofmisery, for when I would account to myself for the birth of thatpassion which afterwards ruled my destiny I find it arise, like amountain 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 geniusthat has regulated my fate; I desire, therefore, in this narration, tostate those facts which led to my predilection for that science. WhenI was thirteen years of age we all went on a party of pleasure to thebaths near Thonon; the inclemency of the weather obliged us to remain aday confined to the inn. In this house I chanced to find a volume ofthe works of Cornelius Agrippa. I opened it with apathy; the theorywhich he attempts to demonstrate and the wonderful facts which herelates soon changed this feeling into enthusiasm. A new light seemedto dawn upon my mind, and bounding with joy, I communicated mydiscovery to my father. My father looked carelessly at the title pageof my book and said, "Ah! Cornelius Agrippa! My dear Victor, do notwaste your time upon this; it is sad trash."

If, instead of this remark, my father had taken the pains to explain tome that the principles of Agrippa had been entirely exploded and that amodern system of science had been introduced which possessed muchgreater powers than the ancient, because the powers of the latter werechimerical, while those of the former were real and practical, undersuch circ*mstances I should certainly have thrown Agrippa aside andhave contented my imagination, warmed as it was, by returning withgreater ardour to my former studies. It is even possible that thetrain of my ideas would never have received the fatal impulse that ledto my ruin. But the cursory glance my father had taken of my volume byno means assured me that he was acquainted with its contents, and Icontinued to read with the greatest avidity. When I returned home myfirst care was to procure the whole works of this author, andafterwards of Paracelsus and Albertus Magnus. I read and studied thewild fancies of these writers with delight; they appeared to metreasures known to few besides myself. I have described myself asalways having been imbued with a fervent longing to penetrate thesecrets of nature. In spite of the intense labour and wonderfuldiscoveries of modern philosophers, I always came from my studiesdiscontented and unsatisfied. Sir Isaac Newton is said to have avowedthat he felt like a child picking up shells beside the great andunexplored ocean of truth. Those of his successors in each branch ofnatural philosophy with whom I was acquainted appeared even to my boy'sapprehensions as tyros engaged in the same pursuit.

The untaught peasant beheld the elements around him and was acquaintedwith their practical uses. The most learned philosopher knew littlemore. He had partially unveiled the face of Nature, but her immortallineaments were still a wonder and a mystery. He might dissect,anatomize, and give names; but, not to speak of a final cause, causesin their secondary and tertiary grades were utterly unknown to him. Ihad gazed upon the fortifications and impediments that seemed to keephuman beings from entering the citadel of nature, and rashly andignorantly I had repined.

But here were books, and here were men who had penetrated deeper andknew more. I took their word for all that they averred, and I becametheir disciple. It may appear strange that such should arise in theeighteenth century; but while I followed the routine of education inthe schools of Geneva, I was, to a great degree, self-taught withregard to my favourite studies. My father was not scientific, and Iwas left to struggle with a child's blindness, added to a student'sthirst for knowledge. Under the guidance of my new preceptors Ientered with the greatest diligence into the search of thephilosopher's stone and the elixir of life; but the latter soonobtained my undivided attention. Wealth was an inferior object, butwhat glory would attend the discovery if I could banish disease fromthe 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 apromise liberally accorded by my favourite authors, the fulfilment ofwhich I most eagerly sought; and if my incantations were alwaysunsuccessful, I attributed the failure rather to my own inexperienceand mistake than to a want of skill or fidelity in my instructors. Andthus for a time I was occupied by exploded systems, mingling, like anunadept, a thousand contradictory theories and floundering desperatelyin a very slough of multifarious knowledge, guided by an ardentimagination and childish reasoning, till an accident again changed thecurrent of my ideas. When I was about fifteen years old we had retiredto our house near Belrive, when we witnessed a most violent andterrible thunderstorm. It advanced from behind the mountains of Jura,and the thunder burst at once with frightful loudness from variousquarters of the heavens. I remained, while the storm lasted, watchingits progress with curiosity and delight. As I stood at the door, on asudden I beheld a stream of fire issue from an old and beautiful oakwhich stood about twenty yards from our house; and so soon as thedazzling light vanished, the oak had disappeared, and nothing remainedbut a blasted stump. When we visited it the next morning, we found thetree shattered in a singular manner. It was not splintered by theshock, but entirely reduced to thin ribbons of wood. I never beheldanything so utterly destroyed.

Before this I was not unacquainted with the more obvious laws ofelectricity. On this occasion a man of great research in naturalphilosophy was with us, and excited by this catastrophe, he entered onthe explanation of a theory which he had formed on the subject ofelectricity 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 bysome fatality the overthrow of these men disinclined me to pursue myaccustomed studies. It seemed to me as if nothing would or could everbe known. All that had so long engaged my attention suddenly grewdespicable. By one of those caprices of the mind which we are perhapsmost subject to in early youth, I at once gave up my formeroccupations, set down natural history and all its progeny as a deformedand abortive creation, and entertained the greatest disdain for awould-be science which could never even step within the threshold ofreal knowledge. In this mood of mind I betook myself to themathematics and the branches of study appertaining to that science asbeing built upon secure foundations, and so worthy of my consideration.

Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by such slight ligamentsare we bound to prosperity or ruin. When I look back, it seems to meas if this almost miraculous change of inclination and will was theimmediate suggestion of the guardian angel of my life—the last effortmade by the spirit of preservation to avert the storm that was eventhen hanging in the stars and ready to envelop me. Her victory wasannounced by an unusual tranquillity and gladness of soul whichfollowed the relinquishing of my ancient and latterly tormentingstudies. It was thus that I was to be taught to associate evil withtheir 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 andterrible destruction.

Chapter 3

When I had attained the age of seventeen my parents resolved that Ishould become a student at the university of Ingolstadt. I hadhitherto attended the schools of Geneva, but my father thought itnecessary for the completion of my education that I should be madeacquainted with other customs than those of my native country. Mydeparture was therefore fixed at an early date, but before the dayresolved upon could arrive, the first misfortune of my lifeoccurred—an omen, as it were, of my future misery. Elizabeth hadcaught the scarlet fever; her illness was severe, and she was in thegreatest danger. During her illness many arguments had been urged topersuade my mother to refrain from attending upon her. She had atfirst yielded to our entreaties, but when she heard that the life ofher favourite was menaced, she could no longer control her anxiety. Sheattended her sickbed; her watchful attentions triumphed over themalignity of the distemper—Elizabeth was saved, but the consequencesof this imprudence were fatal to her preserver. On the third day mymother sickened; her fever was accompanied by the most alarmingsymptoms, and the looks of her medical attendants prognosticated theworst event. On her deathbed the fortitude and benignity of this bestof women did not desert her. She joined the hands of Elizabeth andmyself. "My children," she said, "my firmest hopes of future happinesswere placed on the prospect of your union. This expectation will nowbe the consolation of your father. Elizabeth, my love, you must supplymy place to my younger children. Alas! I regret that I am taken fromyou; and, happy and beloved as I have been, is it not hard to quit youall? But these are not thoughts befitting me; I will endeavour toresign myself cheerfully to death and will indulge a hope of meetingyou 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 rentby that most irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to thesoul, and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance. It is solong before the mind can persuade itself that she whom we saw every dayand whose very existence appeared a part of our own can have departedforever—that the brightness of a beloved eye can have beenextinguished and the sound of a voice so familiar and dear to the earcan be hushed, never more to be heard. These are the reflections ofthe first days; but when the lapse of time proves the reality of theevil, then the actual bitterness of grief commences. Yet from whom hasnot that rude hand rent away some dear connection? And why should Idescribe a sorrow which all have felt, and must feel? The time atlength arrives when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity; andthe smile that plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed asacrilege, is not banished. My mother was dead, but we had stillduties which we ought to perform; we must continue our course with therest and learn to think ourselves fortunate whilst one remains whom thespoiler 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 ofsome 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 oflife. I was new to sorrow, but it did not the less alarm me. I wasunwilling to quit the sight of those that remained to me, and aboveall, 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 andzeal. She devoted herself to those whom she had been taught to callher 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 lastevening with us. He had endeavoured to persuade his father to permithim to accompany me and to become my fellow student, but in vain. Hisfather was a narrow-minded trader and saw idleness and ruin in theaspirations and ambition of his son. Henry deeply felt the misfortuneof being debarred from a liberal education. He said little, but whenhe spoke I read in his kindling eye and in his animated glance arestrained but firm resolve not to be chained to the miserable detailsof commerce.

We sat late. We could not tear ourselves away from each other norpersuade ourselves to say the word "Farewell!" It was said, and weretired under the pretence of seeking repose, each fancying that theother was deceived; but when at morning's dawn I descended to thecarriage which was to convey me away, they were all there—my fatheragain to bless me, Clerval to press my hand once more, my Elizabeth torenew her entreaties that I would write often and to bestow the lastfeminine attentions on her playmate and friend.

I threw myself into the chaise that was to convey me away and indulgedin the most melancholy reflections. I, who had ever been surrounded byamiable companions, continually engaged in endeavouring to bestowmutual pleasure—I was now alone. In the university whither I wasgoing I must form my own friends and be my own protector. My life hadhitherto been remarkably secluded and domestic, and this had given meinvincible repugnance to new countenances. I loved my brothers,Elizabeth, and Clerval; these were "old familiar faces," but I believedmyself totally unfitted for the company of strangers. Such were myreflections as I commenced my journey; but as I proceeded, my spiritsand hopes rose. I ardently desired the acquisition of knowledge. Ihad often, when at home, thought it hard to remain during my youthcooped up in one place and had longed to enter the world and take mystation 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 myjourney to Ingolstadt, which was long and fatiguing. At length thehigh white steeple of the town met my eyes. I alighted and wasconducted to my solitary apartment to spend the evening as I pleased.

The next morning I delivered my letters of introduction and paid avisit to some of the principal professors. Chance—or rather the evilinfluence, the Angel of Destruction, which asserted omnipotent swayover me from the moment I turned my reluctant steps from my father'sdoor—led me first to M. Krempe, professor of natural philosophy. Hewas an uncouth man, but deeply imbued in the secrets of his science. Heasked me several questions concerning my progress in the differentbranches of science appertaining to natural philosophy. I repliedcarelessly, and partly in contempt, mentioned the names of myalchemists as the principal authors I had studied. The professorstared. "Have you," he said, "really spent your time in studying suchnonsense?"

I replied in the affirmative. "Every minute," continued M. Krempe withwarmth, "every instant that you have wasted on those books is utterlyand entirely lost. You have burdened your memory with exploded systemsand useless names. Good God! In what desert land have you lived,where no one was kind enough to inform you that these fancies which youhave so greedily imbibed are a thousand years old and as musty as theyare ancient? I little expected, in this enlightened and scientificage, to find a disciple of Albertus Magnus and Paracelsus. My dearsir, you must begin your studies entirely anew."

So saying, he stepped aside and wrote down a list of several bookstreating of natural philosophy which he desired me to procure, anddismissed me after mentioning that in the beginning of the followingweek he intended to commence a course of lectures upon naturalphilosophy in its general relations, and that M. Waldman, a fellowprofessor, would lecture upon chemistry the alternate days that heomitted.

I returned home not disappointed, for I have said that I had longconsidered those authors useless whom the professor reprobated; but Ireturned not at all the more inclined to recur to these studies in anyshape. M. Krempe was a little squat man with a gruff voice and arepulsive countenance; the teacher, therefore, did not prepossess me infavour of his pursuits. In rather a too philosophical and connected astrain, perhaps, I have given an account of the conclusions I had cometo concerning them in my early years. As a child I had not beencontent with the results promised by the modern professors of naturalscience. With a confusion of ideas only to be accounted for by myextreme youth and my want of a guide on such matters, I had retrod thesteps of knowledge along the paths of time and exchanged thediscoveries 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 soughtimmortality and power; such views, although futile, were grand; but nowthe scene was changed. The ambition of the inquirer seemed to limitit*elf to the annihilation of those visions on which my interest inscience was chiefly founded. I was required to exchange chimeras ofboundless grandeur for realities of little worth.

Such were my reflections during the first two or three days of myresidence at Ingolstadt, which were chiefly spent in becomingacquainted with the localities and the principal residents in my newabode. But as the ensuing week commenced, I thought of the informationwhich M. Krempe had given me concerning the lectures. And although Icould not consent to go and hear that little conceited fellow deliversentences 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 thelecturing room, which M. Waldman entered shortly after. This professorwas very unlike his colleague. He appeared about fifty years of age,but with an aspect expressive of the greatest benevolence; a few greyhairs covered his temples, but those at the back of his head werenearly black. His person was short but remarkably erect and his voicethe sweetest I had ever heard. He began his lecture by arecapitulation of the history of chemistry and the various improvementsmade by different men of learning, pronouncing with fervour the namesof the most distinguished discoverers. He then took a cursory view ofthe present state of the science and explained many of its elementaryterms. After having made a few preparatory experiments, he concludedwith a panegyric upon modern chemistry, the terms of which I shallnever forget: "The ancient teachers of this science," said he,"promised impossibilities and performed nothing. The modern masterspromise very little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted andthat the elixir of life is a chimera but these philosophers, whosehands seem only made to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pore over themicroscope or crucible, have indeed performed miracles. They penetrateinto the recesses of nature and show how she works in herhiding-places. They ascend into the heavens; they have discovered howthe blood circulates, and the nature of the air we breathe. They haveacquired new and almost unlimited powers; they can command the thundersof heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even mock the invisible world withits own shadows."

Such were the professor's words—rather let me say such the words ofthe fate—enounced to destroy me. As he went on I felt as if my soulwere grappling with a palpable enemy; one by one the various keys weretouched which formed the mechanism of my being; chord after chord wassounded, and soon my mind was filled with one thought, one conception,one purpose. So much has been done, exclaimed the soul ofFrankenstein—more, far more, will I achieve; treading in the stepsalready marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, andunfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation.

I closed not my eyes that night. My internal being was in a state ofinsurrection and turmoil; I felt that order would thence arise, but Ihad 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 todevote myself to a science for which I believed myself to possess anatural talent. On the same day I paid M. Waldman a visit. Hismanners in private were even more mild and attractive than in public,for there was a certain dignity in his mien during his lecture which inhis own house was replaced by the greatest affability and kindness. Igave him pretty nearly the same account of my former pursuits as I hadgiven to his fellow professor. He heard with attention the littlenarration concerning my studies and smiled at the names of CorneliusAgrippa and Paracelsus, but without the contempt that M. Krempe hadexhibited. He said that "These were men to whose indefatigable zealmodern philosophers were indebted for most of the foundations of theirknowledge. They had left to us, as an easier task, to give new namesand arrange in connected classifications the facts which they in agreat degree had been the instruments of bringing to light. Thelabours of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely everfail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind." Ilistened to his statement, which was delivered without any presumptionor affectation, and then added that his lecture had removed myprejudices against modern chemists; I expressed myself in measuredterms, with the modesty and deference due from a youth to hisinstructor, without letting escape (inexperience in life would havemade me ashamed) any of the enthusiasm which stimulated my intendedlabours. I requested his advice concerning the books I ought toprocure.

"I am happy," said M. Waldman, "to have gained a disciple; and if yourapplication equals your ability, I have no doubt of your success.Chemistry is that branch of natural philosophy in which the greatestimprovements have been and may be made; it is on that account that Ihave made it my peculiar study; but at the same time, I have notneglected the other branches of science. A man would make but a verysorry chemist if he attended to that department of human knowledgealone. If your wish is to become really a man of science and notmerely a petty experimentalist, I should advise you to apply to everybranch of natural philosophy, including mathematics." He then took meinto his laboratory and explained to me the uses of his variousmachines, instructing me as to what I ought to procure and promising methe use of his own when I should have advanced far enough in thescience not to derange their mechanism. He also gave me the list ofbooks 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 themost 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 thelectures and cultivated the acquaintance of the men of science of theuniversity, and I found even in M. Krempe a great deal of sound senseand real information, combined, it is true, with a repulsivephysiognomy and manners, but not on that account the less valuable. InM. Waldman I found a true friend. His gentleness was never tinged bydogmatism, and his instructions were given with an air of frankness andgood nature that banished every idea of pedantry. In a thousand wayshe smoothed for me the path of knowledge and made the most abstruseinquiries clear and facile to my apprehension. My application was atfirst fluctuating and uncertain; it gained strength as I proceeded andsoon became so ardent and eager that the stars often disappeared in thelight of morning whilst I was yet engaged in my laboratory.

As I applied so closely, it may be easily conceived that my progresswas rapid. My ardour was indeed the astonishment of the students, andmy proficiency that of the masters. Professor Krempe often asked me,with a sly smile, how Cornelius Agrippa went on, whilst M. Waldmanexpressed the most heartfelt exultation in my progress. Two yearspassed in this manner, during which I paid no visit to Geneva, but wasengaged, heart and soul, in the pursuit of some discoveries which Ihoped to make. None but those who have experienced them can conceiveof the enticements of science. In other studies you go as far asothers have gone before you, and there is nothing more to know; but ina scientific pursuit there is continual food for discovery and wonder.A mind of moderate capacity which closely pursues one study mustinfallibly arrive at great proficiency in that study; and I, whocontinually sought the attainment of one object of pursuit and wassolely wrapped up in this, improved so rapidly that at the end of twoyears I made some discoveries in the improvement of some chemicalinstruments, which procured me great esteem and admiration at theuniversity. When I had arrived at this point and had become as wellacquainted with the theory and practice of natural philosophy asdepended on the lessons of any of the professors at Ingolstadt, myresidence there being no longer conducive to my improvements, I thoughtof returning to my friends and my native town, when an incidenthappened that protracted my stay.

One of the phenomena which had peculiarly attracted my attention wasthe structure of the human frame, and, indeed, any animal endued withlife. Whence, I often asked myself, did the principle of life proceed?It was a bold question, and one which has ever been considered as amystery; yet with how many things are we upon the brink of becomingacquainted, if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain ourinquiries. I revolved these circ*mstances in my mind and determinedthenceforth to apply myself more particularly to those branches ofnatural philosophy which relate to physiology. Unless I had beenanimated by an almost supernatural enthusiasm, my application to thisstudy would have been irksome and almost intolerable. To examine thecauses of life, we must first have recourse to death. I becameacquainted with the science of anatomy, but this was not sufficient; Imust also observe the natural decay and corruption of the human body.In my education my father had taken the greatest precautions that mymind should be impressed with no supernatural horrors. I do not everremember to have trembled at a tale of superstition or to have fearedthe apparition of a spirit. Darkness had no effect upon my fancy, anda churchyard was to me merely the receptacle of bodies deprived oflife, which, from being the seat of beauty and strength, had becomefood for the worm. Now I was led to examine the cause and progress ofthis decay and forced to spend days and nights in vaults andcharnel-houses. My attention was fixed upon every object the mostinsupportable to the delicacy of the human feelings. I saw how thefine form of man was degraded and wasted; I beheld the corruption ofdeath succeed to the blooming cheek of life; I saw how the worminherited the wonders of the eye and brain. I paused, examining andanalysing all the minutiae of causation, as exemplified in the changefrom life to death, and death to life, until from the midst of thisdarkness a sudden light broke in upon me—a light so brilliant andwondrous, yet so simple, that while I became dizzy with the immensityof the prospect which it illustrated, I was surprised that among somany men of genius who had directed their inquiries towards the samescience, that I alone should be reserved to discover so astonishing asecret.

Remember, I am not recording the vision of a madman. The sun does notmore certainly shine in the heavens than that which I now affirm istrue. Some miracle might have produced it, yet the stages of thediscovery were distinct and probable. After days and nights ofincredible labour and fatigue, I succeeded in discovering the cause ofgeneration and life; nay, more, I became myself capable of bestowinganimation upon lifeless matter.

The astonishment which I had at first experienced on this discoverysoon gave place to delight and rapture. After so much time spent inpainful labour, to arrive at once at the summit of my desires was themost gratifying consummation of my toils. But this discovery was sogreat and overwhelming that all the steps by which I had beenprogressively led to it were obliterated, and I beheld only the result.What had been the study and desire of the wisest men since the creationof the world was now within my grasp. Not that, like a magic scene, itall opened upon me at once: the information I had obtained was of anature rather to direct my endeavours so soon as I should point themtowards the object of my search than to exhibit that object alreadyaccomplished. I was like the Arabian who had been buried with the deadand found a passage to life, aided only by one glimmering and seeminglyineffectual light.

I see by your eagerness and the wonder and hope which your eyesexpress, my friend, that you expect to be informed of the secret withwhich I am acquainted; that cannot be; listen patiently until the endof my story, and you will easily perceive why I am reserved upon thatsubject. 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 myprecepts, at least by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement ofknowledge and how much happier that man is who believes his native townto be the world, than he who aspires to become greater than his naturewill allow.

When I found so astonishing a power placed within my hands, I hesitateda long time concerning the manner in which I should employ it.Although I possessed the capacity of bestowing animation, yet toprepare a frame for the reception of it, with all its intricacies offibres, muscles, and veins, still remained a work of inconceivabledifficulty and labour. I doubted at first whether I should attempt thecreation of a being like myself, or one of simpler organization; but myimagination was too much exalted by my first success to permit me todoubt of my ability to give life to an animal as complex and wonderfulas man. The materials at present within my command hardly appearedadequate to so arduous an undertaking, but I doubted not that I shouldultimately succeed. I prepared myself for a multitude of reverses; myoperations might be incessantly baffled, and at last my work beimperfect, yet when I considered the improvement which every day takesplace in science and mechanics, I was encouraged to hope my presentattempts would at least lay the foundations of future success. Norcould I consider the magnitude and complexity of my plan as anyargument of its impracticability. It was with these feelings that Ibegan the creation of a human being. As the minuteness of the partsformed a great hindrance to my speed, I resolved, contrary to my firstintention, to make the being of a gigantic stature, that is to say,about eight feet in height, and proportionably large. After havingformed this determination and having spent some months in successfullycollecting and arranging my materials, I began.

No one can conceive the variety of feelings which bore me onwards, likea hurricane, in the first enthusiasm of success. Life and deathappeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, andpour a torrent of light into our dark world. A new species would blessme as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures wouldowe their being to me. No father could claim the gratitude of hischild so completely as I should deserve theirs. Pursuing thesereflections, I thought that if I could bestow animation upon lifelessmatter, 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 undertakingwith unremitting ardour. My cheek had grown pale with study, and myperson had become emaciated with confinement. Sometimes, on the verybrink of certainty, I failed; yet still I clung to the hope which thenext day or the next hour might realize. One secret which I alonepossessed was the hope to which I had dedicated myself; and the moongazed on my midnight labours, while, with unrelaxed and breathlesseagerness, I pursued nature to her hiding-places. Who shall conceivethe horrors of my secret toil as I dabbled among the unhallowed dampsof the grave or tortured the living animal to animate the lifelessclay? My limbs now tremble, and my eyes swim with the remembrance; butthen a resistless and almost frantic impulse urged me forward; I seemedto have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit. It wasindeed but a passing trance, that only made me feel with renewedacuteness so soon as, the unnatural stimulus ceasing to operate, I hadreturned to my old habits. I collected bones from charnel-houses anddisturbed, with profane fingers, the tremendous secrets of the humanframe. 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 fromtheir sockets in attending to the details of my employment. Thedissecting 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, Ibrought my work near to a conclusion.

The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, inone pursuit. It was a most beautiful season; never did the fieldsbestow a more plentiful harvest or the vines yield a more luxuriantvintage, but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature. And thesame feelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me alsoto forget those friends who were so many miles absent, and whom I hadnot seen for so long a time. I knew my silence disquieted them, and Iwell remembered the words of my father: "I know that while you arepleased with yourself you will think of us with affection, and we shallhear regularly from you. You must pardon me if I regard anyinterruption in your correspondence as a proof that your other dutiesare equally neglected."

I knew well therefore what would be my father's feelings, but I couldnot tear my thoughts from my employment, loathsome in itself, but whichhad taken an irresistible hold of my imagination. I wished, as itwere, to procrastinate all that related to my feelings of affectionuntil 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 neglectto vice or faultiness on my part, but I am now convinced that he wasjustified in conceiving that I should not be altogether free fromblame. A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm andpeaceful mind and never to allow passion or a transitory desire todisturb his tranquillity. I do not think that the pursuit of knowledgeis an exception to this rule. If the study to which you apply yourselfhas a tendency to weaken your affections and to destroy your taste forthose simple pleasures in which no alloy can possibly mix, then thatstudy is certainly unlawful, that is to say, not befitting the humanmind. If this rule were always observed; if no man allowed any pursuitwhatsoever to interfere with the tranquillity of his domesticaffections, Greece had not been enslaved, Caesar would have spared hiscountry, America would have been discovered more gradually, and theempires of Mexico and Peru had not been destroyed.

But I forget that I am moralizing in the most interesting part of mytale, and your looks remind me to proceed. My father made no reproachin his letters and only took notice of my silence by inquiring into myoccupations more particularly than before. Winter, spring, and summerpassed away during my labours; but I did not watch the blossom or theexpanding leaves—sights which before always yielded me supremedelight—so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation. The leaves ofthat year had withered before my work drew near to a close, and nowevery day showed me more plainly how well I had succeeded. But myenthusiasm was checked by my anxiety, and I appeared rather like onedoomed by slavery to toil in the mines, or any other unwholesome tradethan an artist occupied by his favourite employment. Every night I wasoppressed by a slow fever, and I became nervous to a most painfuldegree; the fall of a leaf startled me, and I shunned my fellowcreatures as if I had been guilty of a crime. Sometimes I grew alarmedat the wreck I perceived that I had become; the energy of my purposealone sustained me: my labours would soon end, and I believed thatexercise and amusem*nt would then drive away incipient disease; and Ipromised myself both of these when my creation should be complete.

Chapter 5

It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishmentof my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, Icollected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse aspark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It wasalready one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against thepanes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of thehalf-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creatureopen; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.

How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineatethe wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured toform? His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features asbeautiful. Beautiful! Great God! His yellow skin scarcely coveredthe work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrousblack, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but theseluxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes,that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in whichthey were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips.

The different accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelingsof human nature. I had worked hard for nearly two years, for the solepurpose of infusing life into an inanimate body. For this I haddeprived myself of rest and health. I had desired it with an ardourthat far exceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beautyof the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled myheart. Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, Irushed out of the room and continued a long time traversing mybed-chamber, unable to compose my mind to sleep. At length lassitudesucceeded to the tumult I had before endured, and I threw myself on thebed 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 wildestdreams. I thought I saw Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking inthe streets of Ingolstadt. Delighted and surprised, I embraced her,but as I imprinted the first kiss on her lips, they became livid withthe hue of death; her features appeared to change, and I thought that Iheld the corpse of my dead mother in my arms; a shroud enveloped herform, 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, myteeth chattered, and every limb became convulsed; when, by the dim andyellow light of the moon, as it forced its way through the windowshutters, I beheld the wretch—the miserable monster whom I hadcreated. He held up the curtain of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes theymay be called, were fixed on me. His jaws opened, and he muttered someinarticulate sounds, while a grin wrinkled his cheeks. He might havespoken, but I did not hear; one hand was stretched out, seemingly todetain me, but I escaped and rushed downstairs. I took refuge in thecourtyard belonging to the house which I inhabited, where I remainedduring the rest of the night, walking up and down in the greatestagitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound as ifit were to announce the approach of the demoniacal corpse to which Ihad so miserably given life.

Oh! No mortal could support the horror of that countenance. A mummyagain endued with animation could not be so hideous as that wretch. Ihad gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then, but when thosemuscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thingsuch as even Dante could not have conceived.

I passed the night wretchedly. Sometimes my pulse beat so quickly andhardly that I felt the palpitation of every artery; at others, I nearlysank to the ground through languor and extreme weakness. Mingled withthis horror, I felt the bitterness of disappointment; dreams that hadbeen my food and pleasant rest for so long a space were now become ahell to me; and the change was so rapid, the overthrow so complete!

Morning, dismal and wet, at length dawned and discovered to mysleepless and aching eyes the church of Ingolstadt, its white steepleand clock, which indicated the sixth hour. The porter opened the gatesof the court, which had that night been my asylum, and I issued intothe streets, pacing them with quick steps, as if I sought to avoid thewretch whom I feared every turning of the street would present to myview. I did not dare return to the apartment which I inhabited, butfelt impelled to hurry on, although drenched by the rain which pouredfrom a black and comfortless sky.

I continued walking in this manner for some time, endeavouring bybodily exercise to ease the load that weighed upon my mind. Itraversed the streets without any clear conception of where I was orwhat I was doing. My heart palpitated in the sickness of fear, and Ihurried on with irregular steps, not daring to look about me:

Continuing thus, I came at length opposite to the inn at which thevarious diligences and carriages usually stopped. Here I paused, Iknew not why; but I remained some minutes with my eyes fixed on a coachthat was coming towards me from the other end of the street. As itdrew nearer I observed that it was the Swiss diligence; it stopped justwhere I was standing, and on the door being opened, I perceived HenryClerval, who, on seeing me, instantly sprung out. "My dearFrankenstein," exclaimed he, "how glad I am to see you! How fortunatethat you should be here at the very moment of my alighting!"

Nothing could equal my delight on seeing Clerval; his presence broughtback to my thoughts my father, Elizabeth, and all those scenes of homeso dear to my recollection. I grasped his hand, and in a moment forgotmy horror and misfortune; I felt suddenly, and for the first timeduring many months, calm and serene joy. I welcomed my friend,therefore, in the most cordial manner, and we walked towards mycollege. Clerval continued talking for some time about our mutualfriends and his own good fortune in being permitted to come toIngolstadt. "You may easily believe," said he, "how great was thedifficulty to persuade my father that all necessary knowledge was notcomprised in the noble art of book-keeping; and, indeed, I believe Ileft him incredulous to the last, for his constant answer to myunwearied entreaties was the same as that of the Dutch schoolmaster inThe Vicar of Wakefield: 'I have ten thousand florins a year withoutGreek, I eat heartily without Greek.' But his affection for me atlength overcame his dislike of learning, and he has permitted me toundertake a voyage of discovery to the land of knowledge."

"It gives me the greatest delight to see you; but tell me how you leftmy father, brothers, and Elizabeth."

"Very well, and very happy, only a little uneasy that they hear fromyou so seldom. By the by, I mean to lecture you a little upon theiraccount myself. But, my dear Frankenstein," continued he, stoppingshort and gazing full in my face, "I did not before remark how very illyou appear; so thin and pale; you look as if you had been watching forseveral nights."

"You have guessed right; I have lately been so deeply engaged in oneoccupation that I have not allowed myself sufficient rest, as you see;but I hope, I sincerely hope, that all these employments are now at anend and that I am at length free."

I trembled excessively; I could not endure to think of, and far less toallude to, the occurrences of the preceding night. I walked with aquick pace, and we soon arrived at my college. I then reflected, andthe thought made me shiver, that the creature whom I had left in myapartment might still be there, alive and walking about. I dreaded tobehold this monster, but I feared still more that Henry should see him.Entreating him, therefore, to remain a few minutes at the bottom of thestairs, I darted up towards my own room. My hand was already on thelock of the door before I recollected myself. I then paused, and acold shivering came over me. I threw the door forcibly open, aschildren are accustomed to do when they expect a spectre to stand inwaiting for them on the other side; but nothing appeared. I steppedfearfully in: the apartment was empty, and my bedroom was also freedfrom its hideous guest. I could hardly believe that so great a goodfortune could have befallen me, but when I became assured that my enemyhad 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 possessedme; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulsebeat rapidly. I was unable to remain for a single instant in the sameplace; 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 eyesfor which he could not account, and my loud, unrestrained, heartlesslaughter frightened and astonished him.

"My dear Victor," cried he, "what, for God's sake, is the matter? Donot laugh in that manner. How ill you are! What is the cause of allthis?"

"Do not ask me," cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for Ithought I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; "HE can tell.Oh, save me! Save me!" I imagined that the monster seized me; Istruggled furiously and fell down in a fit.

Poor Clerval! What must have been his feelings? A meeting, which heanticipated with such joy, so strangely turned to bitterness. But Iwas not the witness of his grief, for I was lifeless and did notrecover my senses for a long, long time.

This was the commencement of a nervous fever which confined me forseveral months. During all that time Henry was my only nurse. Iafterwards learned that, knowing my father's advanced age and unfitnessfor so long a journey, and how wretched my sickness would makeElizabeth, he spared them this grief by concealing the extent of mydisorder. He knew that I could not have a more kind and attentivenurse than himself; and, firm in the hope he felt of my recovery, hedid not doubt that, instead of doing harm, he performed the kindestaction that he could towards them.

But I was in reality very ill, and surely nothing but the unbounded andunremitting attentions of my friend could have restored me to life.The form of the monster on whom I had bestowed existence was foreverbefore my eyes, and I raved incessantly concerning him. Doubtless mywords surprised Henry; he at first believed them to be the wanderingsof my disturbed imagination, but the pertinacity with which Icontinually recurred to the same subject persuaded him that my disorderindeed owed its origin to some uncommon and terrible event.

By very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses that alarmed andgrieved my friend, I recovered. I remember the first time I becamecapable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure, Iperceived that the fallen leaves had disappeared and that the youngbuds were shooting forth from the trees that shaded my window. It wasa divine spring, and the season contributed greatly to myconvalescence. I felt also sentiments of joy and affection revive inmy bosom; my gloom disappeared, and in a short time I became ascheerful 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 promisedyourself, has been consumed in my sick room. How shall I ever repayyou? I feel the greatest remorse for the disappointment of which Ihave been the occasion, but you will forgive me."

"You will repay me entirely if you do not discompose yourself, but getwell as fast as you can; and since you appear in such good spirits, Imay speak to you on one subject, may I not?"

I trembled. One subject! What could it be? Could he allude to anobject on whom I dared not even think? "Compose yourself," saidClerval, who observed my change of colour, "I will not mention it if itagitates you; but your father and cousin would be very happy if theyreceived a letter from you in your own handwriting. They hardly knowhow ill you have been and are uneasy at your long silence."

"Is that all, my dear Henry? How could you suppose that my firstthought would not fly towards those dear, dear friends whom I love andwho are so deserving of my love?"

"If this is your present temper, my friend, you will perhaps be glad tosee a letter that has been lying here some days for you; it is fromyour cousin, I believe."

Chapter 6

Clerval then put the following letter into my hands. It was from myown Elizabeth:

"My dearest Cousin,

"You have been ill, very ill, and even the constant letters of dearkind Henry are not sufficient to reassure me on your account. You areforbidden 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 thoughtthat each post would bring this line, and my persuasions haverestrained my uncle from undertaking a journey to Ingolstadt. I haveprevented his encountering the inconveniences and perhaps dangers of solong a journey, yet how often have I regretted not being able toperform it myself! I figure to myself that the task of attending onyour sickbed has devolved on some mercenary old nurse, who could neverguess your wishes nor minister to them with the care and affection ofyour poor cousin. Yet that is over now: Clerval writes that indeedyou are getting better. I eagerly hope that you will confirm thisintelligence soon in your own handwriting.

"Get well—and return to us. You will find a happy, cheerful home andfriends who love you dearly. Your father's health is vigorous, and heasks but to see you, but to be assured that you are well; and not acare will ever cloud his benevolent countenance. How pleased you wouldbe to remark the improvement of our Ernest! He is now sixteen and fullof activity and spirit. He is desirous to be a true Swiss and to enterinto foreign service, but we cannot part with him, at least until hiselder brother returns to us. My uncle is not pleased with the idea ofa military career in a distant country, but Ernest never had yourpowers of application. He looks upon study as an odious fetter; histime is spent in the open air, climbing the hills or rowing on thelake. I fear that he will become an idler unless we yield the pointand permit him to enter on the profession which he has selected.

"Little alteration, except the growth of our dear children, has takenplace since you left us. The blue lake and snow-clad mountains—theynever change; and I think our placid home and our contented hearts areregulated by the same immutable laws. My trifling occupations take upmy time and amuse me, and I am rewarded for any exertions by seeingnone but happy, kind faces around me. Since you left us, but onechange has taken place in our little household. Do you remember onwhat 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 thethird. This girl had always been the favourite of her father, butthrough a strange perversity, her mother could not endure her, andafter the death of M. Moritz, treated her very ill. My aunt observedthis, and when Justine was twelve years of age, prevailed on her motherto allow her to live at our house. The republican institutions of ourcountry have produced simpler and happier manners than those whichprevail in the great monarchies that surround it. Hence there is lessdistinction between the several classes of its inhabitants; and thelower orders, being neither so poor nor so despised, their manners aremore refined and moral. A servant in Geneva does not mean the samething as a servant in France and England. Justine, thus received inour family, learned the duties of a servant, a condition which, in ourfortunate country, does not include the idea of ignorance and asacrifice of the dignity of a human being.

"Justine, you may remember, was a great favourite of yours; and Irecollect you once remarked that if you were in an ill humour, oneglance from Justine could dissipate it, for the same reason thatAriosto gives concerning the beauty of Angelica—she looked sofrank-hearted and happy. My aunt conceived a great attachment for her,by which she was induced to give her an education superior to thatwhich she had at first intended. This benefit was fully repaid;Justine was the most grateful little creature in the world: I do notmean that she made any professions I never heard one pass her lips, butyou 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. Shethought her the model of all excellence and endeavoured to imitate herphraseology 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 owngrief to notice poor Justine, who had attended her during her illnesswith the most anxious affection. Poor Justine was very ill; but othertrials were reserved for her.

"One by one, her brothers and sister died; and her mother, with theexception of her neglected daughter, was left childless. Theconscience of the woman was troubled; she began to think that thedeaths of her favourites was a judgement from heaven to chastise herpartiality. She was a Roman Catholic; and I believe her confessorconfirmed the idea which she had conceived. Accordingly, a few monthsafter your departure for Ingolstadt, Justine was called home by herrepentant mother. Poor girl! She wept when she quitted our house; shewas much altered since the death of my aunt; grief had given softnessand a winning mildness to her manners, which had before been remarkablefor vivacity. Nor was her residence at her mother's house of a natureto restore her gaiety. The poor woman was very vacillating in herrepentance. She sometimes begged Justine to forgive her unkindness,but much oftener accused her of having caused the deaths of herbrothers and sister. Perpetual fretting at length threw Madame Moritzinto a decline, which at first increased her irritability, but she isnow 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 herexpression continually remind me of my dear aunt.

"I must say also a few words to you, my dear cousin, of little darlingWilliam. I wish you could see him; he is very tall of his age, withsweet laughing blue eyes, dark eyelashes, and curling hair. When hesmiles, two little dimples appear on each cheek, which are rosy withhealth. He has already had one or two little WIVES, but Louisa Bironis his favourite, a pretty little girl of five years of age.

"Now, dear Victor, I dare say you wish to be indulged in a littlegossip concerning the good people of Geneva. The pretty Miss Mansfieldhas already received the congratulatory visits on her approachingmarriage with a young Englishman, John Melbourne, Esq. Her uglysister, Manon, married M. Duvillard, the rich banker, last autumn. Yourfavourite schoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunessince the departure of Clerval from Geneva. But he has alreadyrecovered his spirits, and is reported to be on the point of marrying alively pretty Frenchwoman, Madame Tavernier. She is a widow, and mucholder than Manoir; but she is very much admired, and a favourite witheverybody.

"I have written myself into better spirits, dear cousin; but my anxietyreturns upon me as I conclude. Write, dearest Victor,—one line—oneword will be a blessing to us. Ten thousand thanks to Henry for hiskindness, his affection, and his many letters; we are sincerelygrateful. Adieu! my cousin; take care of your self; and, I entreatyou, write!

"Elizabeth Lavenza.

"Geneva, March 18, 17—."

"Dear, dear Elizabeth!" I exclaimed, when I had read her letter: "Iwill write instantly and relieve them from the anxiety they must feel."I wrote, and this exertion greatly fatigued me; but my convalescencehad commenced, and proceeded regularly. In another fortnight I wasable to leave my chamber.

One of my first duties on my recovery was to introduce Clerval to theseveral professors of the university. In doing this, I underwent akind of rough usage, ill befitting the wounds that my mind hadsustained. Ever since the fatal night, the end of my labours, and thebeginning of my misfortunes, I had conceived a violent antipathy evento the name of natural philosophy. When I was otherwise quite restoredto health, the sight of a chemical instrument would renew all the agonyof my nervous symptoms. Henry saw this, and had removed all myapparatus from my view. He had also changed my apartment; for heperceived that I had acquired a dislike for the room which hadpreviously been my laboratory. But these cares of Clerval were made ofno avail when I visited the professors. M. Waldman inflicted torturewhen he praised, with kindness and warmth, the astonishing progress Ihad made in the sciences. He soon perceived that I disliked thesubject; but not guessing the real cause, he attributed my feelings tomodesty, and changed the subject from my improvement, to the scienceitself, with a desire, as I evidently saw, of drawing me out. Whatcould I do? He meant to please, and he tormented me. I felt as if hehad placed carefully, one by one, in my view those instruments whichwere to be afterwards used in putting me to a slow and cruel death. Iwrithed under his words, yet dared not exhibit the pain I felt.Clerval, whose eyes and feelings were always quick in discerning thesensations of others, declined the subject, alleging, in excuse, histotal ignorance; and the conversation took a more general turn. Ithanked my friend from my heart, but I did not speak. I saw plainlythat he was surprised, but he never attempted to draw my secret fromme; and although I loved him with a mixture of affection and reverencethat knew no bounds, yet I could never persuade myself to confide inhim that event which was so often present to my recollection, but whichI feared the detail to another would only impress more deeply.

M. Krempe was not equally docile; and in my condition at that time, ofalmost insupportable sensitiveness, his harsh blunt encomiums gave meeven more pain than the benevolent approbation of M. Waldman. "D—nthe fellow!" cried he; "why, M. Clerval, I assure you he has outstriptus all. Ay, stare if you please; but it is nevertheless true. Ayoungster who, but a few years ago, believed in Cornelius Agrippa asfirmly as in the gospel, has now set himself at the head of theuniversity; and if he is not soon pulled down, we shall all be out ofcountenance.—Ay, ay," continued he, observing my face expressive ofsuffering, "M. Frankenstein is modest; an excellent quality in a youngman. Young men should be diffident of themselves, you know, M.Clerval: I was myself when young; but that wears out in a very shorttime."

M. Krempe had now commenced an eulogy on himself, which happily turnedthe conversation from a subject that was so annoying to me.

Clerval had never sympathized in my tastes for natural science; and hisliterary pursuits differed wholly from those which had occupied me. Hecame to the university with the design of making himself completemaster of the oriental languages, and thus he should open a field forthe plan of life he had marked out for himself. Resolved to pursue noinglorious career, he turned his eyes toward the East, as affordingscope for his spirit of enterprise. The Persian, Arabic, and Sanskritlanguages engaged his attention, and I was easily induced to enter onthe same studies. Idleness had ever been irksome to me, and now that Iwished to fly from reflection, and hated my former studies, I feltgreat relief in being the fellow-pupil with my friend, and found notonly instruction but consolation in the works of the orientalists. Idid not, like him, attempt a critical knowledge of their dialects, forI did not contemplate making any other use of them than temporaryamusem*nt. I read merely to understand their meaning, and they wellrepaid my labours. Their melancholy is soothing, and their joyelevating, to a degree I never experienced in studying the authors ofany other country. When you read their writings, life appears toconsist in a warm sun and a garden of roses,—in the smiles and frownsof a fair enemy, and the fire that consumes your own heart. Howdifferent from the manly and heroical poetry of Greece and Rome!

Summer passed away in these occupations, and my return to Geneva wasfixed for the latter end of autumn; but being delayed by severalaccidents, winter and snow arrived, the roads were deemed impassable,and my journey was retarded until the ensuing spring. I felt thisdelay very bitterly; for I longed to see my native town and my belovedfriends. My return had only been delayed so long, from anunwillingness to leave Clerval in a strange place, before he had becomeacquainted with any of its inhabitants. The winter, however, was spentcheerfully; and although the spring was uncommonly late, when it cameits beauty compensated for its dilatoriness.

The month of May had already commenced, and I expected the letter dailywhich was to fix the date of my departure, when Henry proposed apedestrian tour in the environs of Ingolstadt, that I might bid apersonal farewell to the country I had so long inhabited. I accededwith pleasure to this proposition: I was fond of exercise, and Clervalhad always been my favourite companion in the ramble of this naturethat I had taken among the scenes of my native country.

We passed a fortnight in these perambulations: my health and spiritshad long been restored, and they gained additional strength from thesalubrious air I breathed, the natural incidents of our progress, andthe conversation of my friend. Study had before secluded me from theintercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me unsocial; butClerval called forth the better feelings of my heart; he again taughtme to love the aspect of nature, and the cheerful faces of children.Excellent friend! how sincerely you did love me, and endeavour toelevate my mind until it was on a level with your own. A selfishpursuit had cramped and narrowed me, until your gentleness andaffection warmed and opened my senses; I became the same happy creaturewho, 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 mostdelightful sensations. A serene sky and verdant fields filled me withecstasy. The present season was indeed divine; the flowers of springbloomed in the hedges, while those of summer were already in bud. Iwas undisturbed by thoughts which during the preceding year had pressedupon me, notwithstanding my endeavours to throw them off, with aninvincible burden.

Henry rejoiced in my gaiety, and sincerely sympathised in my feelings:he exerted himself to amuse me, while he expressed the sensations thatfilled his soul. The resources of his mind on this occasion were trulyastonishing: his conversation was full of imagination; and very often,in imitation of the Persian and Arabic writers, he invented tales ofwonderful fancy and passion. At other times he repeated my favouritepoems, or drew me out into arguments, which he supported with greatingenuity. We returned to our college on a Sunday afternoon: thepeasants were dancing, and every one we met appeared gay and happy. Myown spirits were high, and I bounded along with feelings of unbridledjoy 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 ofyour return to us; and I was at first tempted to write only a fewlines, merely mentioning the day on which I should expect you. Butthat would be a cruel kindness, and I dare not do it. What would beyour surprise, my son, when you expected a happy and glad welcome, tobehold, on the contrary, tears and wretchedness? And how, Victor, canI relate our misfortune? Absence cannot have rendered you callous toour joys and griefs; and how shall I inflict pain on my long absentson? I wish to prepare you for the woeful news, but I know it isimpossible; even now your eye skims over the page to seek the wordswhich are to convey to you the horrible tidings.

"William is dead!—that sweet child, whose smiles delighted and warmedmy heart, who was so gentle, yet so gay! Victor, he is murdered!

"I will not attempt to console you; but will simply relate thecirc*mstances of the transaction.

"Last Thursday (May 7th), I, my niece, and your two brothers, went towalk in Plainpalais. The evening was warm and serene, and we prolongedour walk farther than usual. It was already dusk before we thought ofreturning; and then we discovered that William and Ernest, who had goneon before, were not to be found. We accordingly rested on a seat untilthey should return. Presently Ernest came, and enquired if we had seenhis brother; he said, that he had been playing with him, that Williamhad run away to hide himself, and that he vainly sought for him, andafterwards waited for a long time, but that he did not return.

"This account rather alarmed us, and we continued to search for himuntil night fell, when Elizabeth conjectured that he might havereturned to the house. He was not there. We returned again, withtorches; for I could not rest, when I thought that my sweet boy hadlost himself, and was exposed to all the damps and dews of night;Elizabeth also suffered extreme anguish. About five in the morning Idiscovered my lovely boy, whom the night before I had seen blooming andactive in health, stretched on the grass livid and motionless; theprint of the murder's finger was on his neck.

"He was conveyed home, and the anguish that was visible in mycountenance betrayed the secret to Elizabeth. She was very earnest tosee the corpse. At first I attempted to prevent her but she persisted,and entering the room where it lay, hastily examined the neck of thevictim, and clasping her hands exclaimed, 'O God! I have murdered mydarling child!'

"She fainted, and was restored with extreme difficulty. When she againlived, it was only to weep and sigh. She told me, that that sameevening William had teased her to let him wear a very valuableminiature that she possessed of your mother. This picture is gone, andwas doubtless the temptation which urged the murderer to the deed. Wehave no trace of him at present, although our exertions to discover himare unremitted; but they will not restore my beloved William!

"Come, dearest Victor; you alone can console Elizabeth. She weepscontinually, and accuses herself unjustly as the cause of his death;her words pierce my heart. We are all unhappy; but will not that be anadditional motive for you, my son, to return and be our comforter?Your dear mother! Alas, Victor! I now say, Thank God she did not liveto 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 offestering, the wounds of our minds. Enter the house of mourning, myfriend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you, and notwith hatred for your enemies.

Clerval, who had watched my countenance as I read this letter, wassurprised to observe the despair that succeeded the joy I at firstexpressed on receiving new from my friends. I threw the letter on thetable, and covered my face with my hands.

"My dear Frankenstein," exclaimed Henry, when he perceived me weep withbitterness, "are you always to be unhappy? My dear friend, what hashappened?"

I motioned him to take up the letter, while I walked up and down theroom in the extremest agitation. Tears also gushed from the eyes ofClerval, as he read the account of my misfortune.

"I can offer you no consolation, my friend," said he; "your disaster isirreparable. 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 hadseen him bright and joyous in his young beauty, but must weep over hisuntimely loss! To die so miserably; to feel the murderer's grasp! Howmuch more a murdered that could destroy radiant innocence! Poor littlefellow! one only consolation have we; his friends mourn and weep, buthe 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 longerbe a subject for pity; we must reserve that for his miserablesurvivors."

Clerval spoke thus as we hurried through the streets; the wordsimpressed themselves on my mind and I remembered them afterwards insolitude. But now, as soon as the horses arrived, I hurried into acabriolet, and bade farewell to my friend.

My journey was very melancholy. At first I wished to hurry on, for Ilonged to console and sympathise with my loved and sorrowing friends;but when I drew near my native town, I slackened my progress. I couldhardly sustain the multitude of feelings that crowded into my mind. Ipassed through scenes familiar to my youth, but which I had not seenfor nearly six years. How altered every thing might be during thattime! One sudden and desolating change had taken place; but a thousandlittle circ*mstances might have by degrees worked other alterations,which, although they were done more tranquilly, might not be the lessdecisive. Fear overcame me; I dared no advance, dreading a thousandnameless evils that made me tremble, although I was unable to definethem. 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. Bydegrees the calm and heavenly scene restored me, and I continued myjourney towards Geneva.

The road ran by the side of the lake, which became narrower as Iapproached my native town. I discovered more distinctly the blacksides of Jura, and the bright summit of Mont Blanc. I wept like achild. "Dear mountains! my own beautiful lake! how do you welcome yourwanderer? Your summits are clear; the sky and lake are blue andplacid. Is this to prognosticate peace, or to mock at my unhappiness?"

I fear, my friend, that I shall render myself tedious by dwelling onthese preliminary circ*mstances; but they were days of comparativehappiness, and I think of them with pleasure. My country, my belovedcountry! who but a native can tell the delight I took in againbeholding thy streams, thy mountains, and, more than all, thy lovelylake!

Yet, as I drew nearer home, grief and fear again overcame me. Nightalso closed around; and when I could hardly see the dark mountains, Ifelt still more gloomily. The picture appeared a vast and dim scene ofevil, and I foresaw obscurely that I was destined to become the mostwretched of human beings. Alas! I prophesied truly, and failed onlyin one single circ*mstance, that in all the misery I imagined anddreaded, I did not conceive the hundredth part of the anguish I wasdestined to endure. It was completely dark when I arrived in theenvirons of Geneva; the gates of the town were already shut; and I wasobliged to pass the night at Secheron, a village at the distance ofhalf a league from the city. The sky was serene; and, as I was unableto rest, I resolved to visit the spot where my poor William had beenmurdered. As I could not pass through the town, I was obliged to crossthe lake in a boat to arrive at Plainpalais. During this short voyageI saw the lightning playing on the summit of Mont Blanc in the mostbeautiful figures. The storm appeared to approach rapidly, and, onlanding, I ascended a low hill, that I might observe its progress. Itadvanced; the heavens were clouded, and I soon felt the rain comingslowly in large drops, but its violence quickly increased.

I quitted my seat, and walked on, although the darkness and stormincreased every minute, and the thunder burst with a terrific crashover my head. It was echoed from Saleve, the Juras, and the Alps ofSavoy; vivid flashes of lightning dazzled my eyes, illuminating thelake, making it appear like a vast sheet of fire; then for an instantevery thing seemed of a pitchy darkness, until the eye recovered itselffrom the preceding flash. The storm, as is often the case inSwitzerland, appeared at once in various parts of the heavens. Themost violent storm hung exactly north of the town, over the part of thelake which lies between the promontory of Belrive and the village ofCopet. Another storm enlightened Jura with faint flashes; and anotherdarkened and sometimes disclosed the Mole, a peaked mountain to theeast of the lake.

While I watched the tempest, so beautiful yet terrific, I wandered onwith a hasty step. This noble war in the sky elevated my spirits; Iclasped my hands, and exclaimed aloud, "William, dear angel! this isthy funeral, this thy dirge!" As I said these words, I perceived in thegloom a figure which stole from behind a clump of trees near me; Istood fixed, gazing intently: I could not be mistaken. A flash oflightning illuminated the object, and discovered its shape plainly tome; its gigantic stature, and the deformity of its aspect more hideousthan belongs to humanity, instantly informed me that it was the wretch,the filthy daemon, to whom I had given life. What did he there? Couldhe be (I shuddered at the conception) the murderer of my brother? Nosooner did that idea cross my imagination, than I became convinced ofits truth; my teeth chattered, and I was forced to lean against a treefor 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 themurderer! I could not doubt it. The mere presence of the idea was anirresistible proof of the fact. I thought of pursuing the devil; butit would have been in vain, for another flash discovered him to mehanging among the rocks of the nearly perpendicular ascent of MontSaleve, a hill that bounds Plainpalais on the south. He soon reachedthe summit, and disappeared.

I remained motionless. The thunder ceased; but the rain stillcontinued, and the scene was enveloped in an impenetrable darkness. Irevolved in my mind the events which I had until now sought to forget:the whole train of my progress toward the creation; the appearance ofthe works of my own hands at my bedside; its departure. Two years hadnow nearly elapsed since the night on which he first received life; andwas this his first crime? Alas! I had turned loose into the world adepraved wretch, whose delight was in carnage and misery; had he notmurdered my brother?

No one can conceive the anguish I suffered during the remainder of thenight, which I spent, cold and wet, in the open air. But I did notfeel the inconvenience of the weather; my imagination was busy inscenes of evil and despair. I considered the being whom I had castamong mankind, and endowed with the will and power to effect purposesof horror, such as the deed which he had now done, nearly in the lightof my own vampire, my own spirit let loose from the grave, and forcedto destroy all that was dear to me.

Day dawned; and I directed my steps towards the town. The gates wereopen, and I hastened to my father's house. My first thought was todiscover what I knew of the murderer, and cause instant pursuit to bemade. But I paused when I reflected on the story that I had to tell. Abeing whom I myself had formed, and endued with life, had met me atmidnight among the precipices of an inaccessible mountain. Iremembered also the nervous fever with which I had been seized just atthe time that I dated my creation, and which would give an air ofdelirium to a tale otherwise so utterly improbable. I well knew thatif any other had communicated such a relation to me, I should havelooked upon it as the ravings of insanity. Besides, the strange natureof the animal would elude all pursuit, even if I were so far creditedas to persuade my relatives to commence it. And then of what use wouldbe pursuit? Who could arrest a creature capable of scaling theoverhanging sides of Mont Saleve? These reflections determined me, andI resolved to remain silent.

It was about five in the morning when I entered my father's house. Itold the servants not to disturb the family, and went into the libraryto 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 fatherbefore my departure for Ingolstadt. Beloved and venerable parent! Hestill remained to me. I gazed on the picture of my mother, which stoodover the mantel-piece. It was an historical subject, painted at myfather's desire, and represented Caroline Beaufort in an agony ofdespair, kneeling by the coffin of her dead father. Her garb wasrustic, and her cheek pale; but there was an air of dignity and beauty,that hardly permitted the sentiment of pity. Below this picture was aminiature of William; and my tears flowed when I looked upon it. WhileI was thus engaged, Ernest entered: he had heard me arrive, andhastened to welcome me: "Welcome, my dearest Victor," said he. "Ah! Iwish you had come three months ago, and then you would have found usall joyous and delighted. You come to us now to share a misery whichnothing can alleviate; yet you presence will, I hope, revive ourfather, who seems sinking under his misfortune; and your persuasionswill induce poor Elizabeth to cease her vain and tormentingself-accusations.—Poor William! he was our darling and our pride!"

Tears, unrestrained, fell from my brother's eyes; a sense of mortalagony crept over my frame. Before, I had only imagined thewretchedness of my desolated home; the reality came on me as a new, anda not less terrible, disaster. I tried to calm Ernest; I enquired moreminutely concerning my father, and her I named my cousin.

"She most of all," said Ernest, "requires consolation; she accusedherself of having caused the death of my brother, and that made hervery wretched. But since the murderer has been discovered—"

"The murderer discovered! Good God! how can that be? who could attemptto pursue him? It is impossible; one might as well try to overtake thewinds, or confine a mountain-stream with a straw. I saw him too; hewas free last night!"

"I do not know what you mean," replied my brother, in accents ofwonder, "but to us the discovery we have made completes our misery. Noone would believe it at first; and even now Elizabeth will not beconvinced, notwithstanding all the evidence. Indeed, who would creditthat 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 iswrongfully; every one knows that; no one believes it, surely, Ernest?"

"No one did at first; but several circ*mstances came out, that havealmost forced conviction upon us; and her own behaviour has been soconfused, 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 willthen hear all."

He then related that, the morning on which the murder of poor Williamhad been discovered, Justine had been taken ill, and confined to herbed for several days. During this interval, one of the servants,happening to examine the apparel she had worn on the night of themurder, had discovered in her pocket the picture of my mother, whichhad been judged to be the temptation of the murderer. The servantinstantly showed it to one of the others, who, without saying a word toany of the family, went to a magistrate; and, upon their deposition,Justine was apprehended. On being charged with the fact, the poor girlconfirmed the suspicion in a great measure by her extreme confusion ofmanner.

This was a strange tale, but it did not shake my faith; and I repliedearnestly, "You are all mistaken; I know the murderer. Justine, poor,good Justine, is innocent."

At that instant my father entered. I saw unhappiness deeply impressedon his countenance, but he endeavoured to welcome me cheerfully; and,after we had exchanged our mournful greeting, would have introducedsome other topic than that of our disaster, had not Ernest exclaimed,"Good God, papa! Victor says that he knows who was the murderer ofpoor William."

"We do also, unfortunately," replied my father, "for indeed I hadrather have been for ever ignorant than have discovered so muchdepravity 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 betried today, and I hope, I sincerely hope, that she will be acquitted."

This speech calmed me. I was firmly convinced in my own mind thatJustine, and indeed every human being, was guiltless of this murder. Ihad no fear, therefore, that any circ*mstantial evidence could bebrought forward strong enough to convict her. My tale was not one toannounce publicly; its astounding horror would be looked upon asmadness by the vulgar. Did any one indeed exist, except I, thecreator, who would believe, unless his senses convinced him, in theexistence of the living monument of presumption and rash ignorancewhich I had let loose upon the world?

We were soon joined by Elizabeth. Time had altered her since I lastbeheld her; it had endowed her with loveliness surpassing the beauty ofher childish years. There was the same candour, the same vivacity, butit was allied to an expression more full of sensibility and intellect.She welcomed me with the greatest affection. "Your arrival, my dearcousin," said she, "fills me with hope. You perhaps will find somemeans to justify my poor guiltless Justine. Alas! who is safe, if shebe convicted of crime? I rely on her innocence as certainly as I doupon my own. Our misfortune is doubly hard to us; we have not onlylost that lovely darling boy, but this poor girl, whom I sincerelylove, is to be torn away by even a worse fate. If she is condemned, Inever 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 littleWilliam."

"She is innocent, my Elizabeth," said I, "and that shall be proved;fear nothing, but let your spirits be cheered by the assurance of heracquittal."

"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 tosee every one else prejudiced in so deadly a manner rendered mehopeless and despairing." She wept.

"Dearest niece," said my father, "dry your tears. If she is, as youbelieve, innocent, rely on the justice of our laws, and the activitywith 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 tocommence. My father and the rest of the family being obliged to attendas witnesses, I accompanied them to the court. During the whole ofthis wretched mockery of justice I suffered living torture. It was tobe decided whether the result of my curiosity and lawless devices wouldcause the death of two of my fellow beings: one a smiling babe full ofinnocence and joy, the other far more dreadfully murdered, with everyaggravation of infamy that could make the murder memorable in horror.Justine also was a girl of merit and possessed qualities which promisedto render her life happy; now all was to be obliterated in anignominious grave, and I the cause! A thousand times rather would Ihave confessed myself guilty of the crime ascribed to Justine, but Iwas absent when it was committed, and such a declaration would havebeen considered as the ravings of a madman and would not haveexculpated her who suffered through me.

The appearance of Justine was calm. She was dressed in mourning, andher countenance, always engaging, was rendered, by the solemnity of herfeelings, exquisitely beautiful. Yet she appeared confident ininnocence and did not tremble, although gazed on and execrated bythousands, for all the kindness which her beauty might otherwise haveexcited was obliterated in the minds of the spectators by theimagination of the enormity she was supposed to have committed. Shewas tranquil, yet her tranquillity was evidently constrained; and asher confusion had before been adduced as a proof of her guilt, sheworked up her mind to an appearance of courage. When she entered thecourt she threw her eyes round it and quickly discovered where we wereseated. A tear seemed to dim her eye when she saw us, but she quicklyrecovered herself, and a look of sorrowful affection seemed to attesther utter guiltlessness.

The trial began, and after the advocate against her had stated thecharge, several witnesses were called. Several strange facts combinedagainst her, which might have staggered anyone who had not such proofof her innocence as I had. She had been out the whole of the night onwhich the murder had been committed and towards morning had beenperceived by a market-woman not far from the spot where the body of themurdered child had been afterwards found. The woman asked her what shedid there, but she looked very strangely and only returned a confusedand unintelligible answer. She returned to the house about eighto'clock, and when one inquired where she had passed the night, shereplied that she had been looking for the child and demanded earnestlyif anything had been heard concerning him. When shown the body, shefell into violent hysterics and kept her bed for several days. Thepicture was then produced which the servant had found in her pocket;and when Elizabeth, in a faltering voice, proved that it was the samewhich, an hour before the child had been missed, she had placed roundhis neck, a murmur of horror and indignation filled the court.

Justine was called on for her defence. As the trial had proceeded, hercountenance had altered. Surprise, horror, and misery were stronglyexpressed. Sometimes she struggled with her tears, but when she wasdesired to plead, she collected her powers and spoke in an audiblealthough variable voice.

"God knows," she said, "how entirely I am innocent. But I do notpretend that my protestations should acquit me; I rest my innocence ona plain and simple explanation of the facts which have been adducedagainst me, and I hope the character I have always borne will inclinemy judges to a favourable interpretation where any circ*mstance appearsdoubtful or suspicious."

She then related that, by the permission of Elizabeth, she had passedthe evening of the night on which the murder had been committed at thehouse of an aunt at Chene, a village situated at about a league fromGeneva. On her return, at about nine o'clock, she met a man who askedher if she had seen anything of the child who was lost. She wasalarmed by this account and passed several hours in looking for him,when the gates of Geneva were shut, and she was forced to remainseveral hours of the night in a barn belonging to a cottage, beingunwilling to call up the inhabitants, to whom she was well known. Mostof the night she spent here watching; towards morning she believed thatshe slept for a few minutes; some steps disturbed her, and she awoke.It was dawn, and she quitted her asylum, that she might again endeavourto find my brother. If she had gone near the spot where his body lay,it was without her knowledge. That she had been bewildered whenquestioned by the market-woman was not surprising, since she had passeda 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 thisone circ*mstance weighs against me, but I have no power of explainingit; and when I have expressed my utter ignorance, I am only left toconjecture concerning the probabilities by which it might have beenplaced in my pocket. But here also I am checked. I believe that Ihave no enemy on earth, and none surely would have been so wicked as todestroy me wantonly. Did the murderer place it there? I know of noopportunity afforded him for so doing; or, if I had, why should he havestolen the jewel, to part with it again so soon?

"I commit my cause to the justice of my judges, yet I see no room forhope. I beg permission to have a few witnesses examined concerning mycharacter, and if their testimony shall not overweigh my supposedguilt, I must be condemned, although I would pledge my salvation on myinnocence."

Several witnesses were called who had known her for many years, andthey spoke well of her; but fear and hatred of the crime of which theysupposed her guilty rendered them timorous and unwilling to comeforward. Elizabeth saw even this last resource, her excellentdispositions and irreproachable conduct, about to fail the accused,when, although violently agitated, she desired permission to addressthe court.

"I am," said she, "the cousin of the unhappy child who was murdered, orrather his sister, for I was educated by and have lived with hisparents ever since and even long before his birth. It may therefore bejudged indecent in me to come forward on this occasion, but when I seea fellow creature about to perish through the cowardice of herpretended friends, I wish to be allowed to speak, that I may say what Iknow of her character. I am well acquainted with the accused. I havelived in the same house with her, at one time for five and at anotherfor nearly two years. During all that period she appeared to me themost amiable and benevolent of human creatures. She nursed MadameFrankenstein, my aunt, in her last illness, with the greatest affectionand care and afterwards attended her own mother during a tediousillness, 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 belovedby all the family. She was warmly attached to the child who is nowdead and acted towards him like a most affectionate mother. For my ownpart, I do not hesitate to say that, notwithstanding all the evidenceproduced against her, I believe and rely on her perfect innocence. Shehad no temptation for such an action; as to the bauble on which thechief proof rests, if she had earnestly desired it, I should havewillingly given it to her, so much do I esteem and value her."

A murmur of approbation followed Elizabeth's simple and powerfulappeal, but it was excited by her generous interference, and not infavour of poor Justine, on whom the public indignation was turned withrenewed violence, charging her with the blackest ingratitude. Sheherself wept as Elizabeth spoke, but she did not answer. My ownagitation and anguish was extreme during the whole trial. I believedin her innocence; I knew it. Could the demon who had (I did not for aminute doubt) murdered my brother also in his hellish sport havebetrayed the innocent to death and ignominy? I could not sustain thehorror of my situation, and when I perceived that the popular voice andthe countenances of the judges had already condemned my unhappy victim,I rushed out of the court in agony. The tortures of the accused didnot equal mine; she was sustained by innocence, but the fangs ofremorse tore my bosom and would not forgo their hold.

I passed a night of unmingled wretchedness. In the morning I went tothe court; my lips and throat were parched. I dared not ask the fatalquestion, but I was known, and the officer guessed the cause of myvisit. The ballots had been thrown; they were all black, and Justinewas condemned.

I cannot pretend to describe what I then felt. I had beforeexperienced sensations of horror, and I have endeavoured to bestow uponthem adequate expressions, but words cannot convey an idea of theheart-sickening despair that I then endured. The person to whom Iaddressed myself added that Justine had already confessed her guilt."That evidence," he observed, "was hardly required in so glaring acase, but I am glad of it, and, indeed, none of our judges like tocondemn a criminal upon circ*mstantial evidence, be it ever sodecisive."

This was strange and unexpected intelligence; what could it mean? Hadmy eyes deceived me? And was I really as mad as the whole world wouldbelieve me to be if I disclosed the object of my suspicions? Ihastened to return home, and Elizabeth eagerly demanded the result.

"My cousin," replied I, "it is decided as you may have expected; alljudges had rather that ten innocent should suffer than that one guiltyshould escape. But she has confessed."

This was a dire blow to poor Elizabeth, who had relied with firmnessupon Justine's innocence. "Alas!" said she. "How shall I ever againbelieve in human goodness? Justine, whom I loved and esteemed as mysister, how could she put on those smiles of innocence only to betray?Her mild eyes seemed incapable of any severity or guile, and yet shehas committed a murder."

Soon after we heard that the poor victim had expressed a desire to seemy cousin. My father wished her not to go but said that he left it toher own judgment and feelings to decide. "Yes," said Elizabeth, "Iwill go, although she is guilty; and you, Victor, shall accompany me; Icannot go alone." The idea of this visit was torture to me, yet Icould not refuse. We entered the gloomy prison chamber and beheldJustine sitting on some straw at the farther end; her hands weremanacled, and her head rested on her knees. She rose on seeing usenter, and when we were left alone with her, she threw herself at thefeet 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, Iwas not so miserable as I am now."

"And do you also believe that I am so very, very wicked? Do you alsojoin with my enemies to crush me, to condemn me as a murderer?" Hervoice was suffocated with sobs.

"Rise, my poor girl," said Elizabeth; "why do you kneel, if you areinnocent? I am not one of your enemies, I believed you guiltless,notwithstanding every evidence, until I heard that you had yourselfdeclared 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 mightobtain absolution; but now that falsehood lies heavier at my heart thanall my other sins. The God of heaven forgive me! Ever since I wascondemned, my confessor has besieged me; he threatened and menaced,until I almost began to think that I was the monster that he said Iwas. He threatened excommunication and hell fire in my last moments ifI continued obdurate. Dear lady, I had none to support me; all lookedon 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 trulymiserable."

She paused, weeping, and then continued, "I thought with horror, mysweet lady, that you should believe your Justine, whom your blessedaunt had so highly honoured, and whom you loved, was a creature capableof a crime which none but the devil himself could have perpetrated.Dear William! dearest blessed child! I soon shall see you again inheaven, where we shall all be happy; and that consoles me, going as Iam 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. Iwill proclaim, I will prove your innocence. I will melt the stonyhearts 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 toendure the worst. I leave a sad and bitter world; and if you rememberme and think of me as of one unjustly condemned, I am resigned to thefate awaiting me. Learn from me, dear lady, to submit in patience tothe 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 passthe awful boundary between life and death, felt not, as I did, suchdeep and bitter agony. I gnashed my teeth and ground them together,uttering a groan that came from my inmost soul. Justine started. Whenshe saw who it was, she approached me and said, "Dear sir, you are verykind to visit me; you, I hope, do not believe that I am guilty?"

I could not answer. "No, Justine," said Elizabeth; "he is moreconvinced of your innocence than I was, for even when he heard that youhad confessed, he did not credit it."

"I truly thank him. In these last moments I feel the sincerestgratitude towards those who think of me with kindness. How sweet isthe affection of others to such a wretch as I am! It removes more thanhalf my misfortune, and I feel as if I could die in peace now that myinnocence is acknowledged by you, dear lady, and your cousin."

Thus the poor sufferer tried to comfort others and herself. She indeedgained the resignation she desired. But I, the true murderer, felt thenever-dying worm alive in my bosom, which allowed of no hope orconsolation. Elizabeth also wept and was unhappy, but hers also wasthe misery of innocence, which, like a cloud that passes over the fairmoon, for a while hides but cannot tarnish its brightness. Anguish anddespair had penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell withinme which nothing could extinguish. We stayed several hours withJustine, and it was with great difficulty that Elizabeth could tearherself away. "I wish," cried she, "that I were to die with you; Icannot live in this world of misery."

Justine assumed an air of cheerfulness, while she with difficultyrepressed her bitter tears. She embraced Elizabeth and said in a voiceof half-suppressed emotion, "Farewell, sweet lady, dearest Elizabeth,my beloved and only friend; may heaven, in its bounty, bless andpreserve you; may this be the last misfortune that you will eversuffer! Live, and be happy, and make others so."

And on the morrow Justine died. Elizabeth's heart-rending eloquencefailed to move the judges from their settled conviction in thecriminality of the saintly sufferer. My passionate and indignantappeals were lost upon them. And when I received their cold answersand heard the harsh, unfeeling reasoning of these men, my purposedavowal died away on my lips. Thus I might proclaim myself a madman,but not revoke the sentence passed upon my wretched victim. Sheperished on the scaffold as a murderess!

From the tortures of my own heart, I turned to contemplate the deep andvoiceless grief of my Elizabeth. This also was my doing! And myfather's woe, and the desolation of that late so smiling home all wasthe work of my thrice-accursed hands! Ye weep, unhappy ones, but theseare not your last tears! Again shall you raise the funeral wail, andthe sound of your lamentations shall again and again be heard!Frankenstein, your son, your kinsman, your early, much-loved friend; hewho would spend each vital drop of blood for your sakes, who has nothought nor sense of joy except as it is mirrored also in your dearcountenances, who would fill the air with blessings and spend his lifein serving you—he bids you weep, to shed countless tears; happy beyondhis hopes, if thus inexorable fate be satisfied, and if the destructionpause 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 andJustine, the first hapless victims to my unhallowed arts.

Chapter 9

Nothing is more painful to the human mind than, after the feelings havebeen worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness ofinaction and certainty which follows and deprives the soul both of hopeand fear. Justine died, she rested, and I was alive. The blood flowedfreely in my veins, but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on myheart which nothing could remove. Sleep fled from my eyes; I wanderedlike an evil spirit, for I had committed deeds of mischief beyonddescription horrible, and more, much more (I persuaded myself) was yetbehind. Yet my heart overflowed with kindness and the love of virtue.I had begun life with benevolent intentions and thirsted for the momentwhen I should put them in practice and make myself useful to my fellowbeings. Now all was blasted; instead of that serenity of consciencewhich allowed me to look back upon the past with self-satisfaction, andfrom thence to gather promise of new hopes, I was seized by remorse andthe sense of guilt, which hurried me away to a hell of intense torturessuch as no language can describe.

This state of mind preyed upon my health, which had perhaps neverentirely recovered from the first shock it had sustained. I shunnedthe 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 mydisposition and habits and endeavoured by arguments deduced from thefeelings of his serene conscience and guiltless life to inspire me withfortitude and awaken in me the courage to dispel the dark cloud whichbrooded over me. "Do you think, Victor," said he, "that I do notsuffer also? No one could love a child more than I loved yourbrother"—tears came into his eyes as he spoke—"but is it not a dutyto the survivors that we should refrain from augmenting theirunhappiness by an appearance of immoderate grief? It is also a dutyowed to yourself, for excessive sorrow prevents improvement orenjoyment, or even the discharge of daily usefulness, without which noman is fit for society."

This advice, although good, was totally inapplicable to my case; Ishould have been the first to hide my grief and console my friends ifremorse had not mingled its bitterness, and terror its alarm, with myother sensations. Now I could only answer my father with a look ofdespair and endeavour to hide myself from his view.

About this time we retired to our house at Belrive. This change wasparticularly agreeable to me. The shutting of the gates regularly atten o'clock and the impossibility of remaining on the lake after thathour had rendered our residence within the walls of Geneva very irksometo me. I was now free. Often, after the rest of the family hadretired for the night, I took the boat and passed many hours upon thewater. Sometimes, with my sails set, I was carried by the wind; andsometimes, after rowing into the middle of the lake, I left the boat topursue its own course and gave way to my own miserable reflections. Iwas often tempted, when all was at peace around me, and I the onlyunquiet thing that wandered restless in a scene so beautiful andheavenly—if I except some bat, or the frogs, whose harsh andinterrupted croaking was heard only when I approached the shore—often,I say, I was tempted to plunge into the silent lake, that the watersmight close over me and my calamities forever. But I was restrained,when I thought of the heroic and suffering Elizabeth, whom I tenderlyloved, and whose existence was bound up in mine. I thought also of myfather and surviving brother; should I by my base desertion leave themexposed and unprotected to the malice of the fiend whom I had let looseamong them?

At these moments I wept bitterly and wished that peace would revisit mymind only that I might afford them consolation and happiness. But thatcould not be. Remorse extinguished every hope. I had been the authorof unalterable evils, and I lived in daily fear lest the monster whom Ihad created should perpetrate some new wickedness. I had an obscurefeeling that all was not over and that he would still commit somesignal crime, which by its enormity should almost efface therecollection of the past. There was always scope for fear so long asanything I loved remained behind. My abhorrence of this fiend cannotbe conceived. When I thought of him I gnashed my teeth, my eyes becameinflamed, and I ardently wished to extinguish that life which I had sothoughtlessly bestowed. When I reflected on his crimes and malice, myhatred and revenge burst all bounds of moderation. I would have made apilgrimage to the highest peak of the Andes, could I when there haveprecipitated him to their base. I wished to see him again, that Imight wreak the utmost extent of abhorrence on his head and avenge thedeaths of William and Justine. Our house was the house of mourning. Myfather's health was deeply shaken by the horror of the recent events.Elizabeth was sad and desponding; she no longer took delight in herordinary occupations; all pleasure seemed to her sacrilege toward thedead; eternal woe and tears she then thought was the just tribute sheshould pay to innocence so blasted and destroyed. She was no longerthat happy creature who in earlier youth wandered with me on the banksof the lake and talked with ecstasy of our future prospects. The firstof those sorrows which are sent to wean us from the earth had visitedher, and its dimming influence quenched her dearest smiles.

"When I reflect, my dear cousin," said she, "on the miserable death ofJustine Moritz, I no longer see the world and its works as they beforeappeared to me. Before, I looked upon the accounts of vice andinjustice that I read in books or heard from others as tales of ancientdays or imaginary evils; at least they were remote and more familiar toreason than to the imagination; but now misery has come home, and menappear to me as monsters thirsting for each other's blood. Yet I amcertainly unjust. Everybody believed that poor girl to be guilty; andif she could have committed the crime for which she suffered, assuredlyshe would have been the most depraved of human creatures. For the sakeof 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 ifit had been her own! I could not consent to the death of any humanbeing, but certainly I should have thought such a creature unfit toremain in the society of men. But she was innocent. I know, I feelshe was innocent; you are of the same opinion, and that confirms me.Alas! Victor, when falsehood can look so like the truth, who canassure themselves of certain happiness? I feel as if I were walking onthe edge of a precipice, towards which thousands are crowding andendeavouring to plunge me into the abyss. William and Justine wereassassinated, and the murderer escapes; he walks about the world free,and perhaps respected. But even if I were condemned to suffer on thescaffold for the same crimes, I would not change places with such awretch."

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 mycountenance, and kindly taking my hand, said, "My dearest friend, youmust calm yourself. These events have affected me, God knows howdeeply; but I am not so wretched as you are. There is an expression ofdespair, and sometimes of revenge, in your countenance that makes metremble. Dear Victor, banish these dark passions. Remember thefriends around you, who centre all their hopes in you. Have we lostthe power of rendering you happy? Ah! While we love, while we aretrue to each other, here in this land of peace and beauty, your nativecountry, we may reap every tranquil blessing—what can disturb ourpeace?"

And could not such words from her whom I fondly prized before everyother gift of fortune suffice to chase away the fiend that lurked in myheart? Even as she spoke I drew near to her, as if in terror, lest atthat very moment the destroyer had been near to rob me of her.

Thus not the tenderness of friendship, nor the beauty of earth, nor ofheaven, could redeem my soul from woe; the very accents of love wereineffectual. I was encompassed by a cloud which no beneficialinfluence could penetrate. The wounded deer dragging its faintinglimbs to some untrodden brake, there to gaze upon the arrow which hadpierced it, and to die, was but a type of me.

Sometimes I could cope with the sullen despair that overwhelmed me, butsometimes the whirlwind passions of my soul drove me to seek, by bodilyexercise and by change of place, some relief from my intolerablesensations. It was during an access of this kind that I suddenly leftmy home, and bending my steps towards the near Alpine valleys, soughtin the magnificence, the eternity of such scenes, to forget myself andmy ephemeral, because human, sorrows. My wanderings were directedtowards the valley of Chamounix. I had visited it frequently during myboyhood. Six years had passed since then: _I_ was a wreck, but noughthad changed in those savage and enduring scenes.

I performed the first part of my journey on horseback. I afterwardshired a mule, as the more sure-footed and least liable to receiveinjury on these rugged roads. The weather was fine; it was about themiddle of the month of August, nearly two months after the death ofJustine, that miserable epoch from which I dated all my woe. Theweight upon my spirit was sensibly lightened as I plunged yet deeper inthe ravine of Arve. The immense mountains and precipices that overhungme on every side, the sound of the river raging among the rocks, andthe dashing of the waterfalls around spoke of a power mighty asOmnipotence—and I ceased to fear or to bend before any being lessalmighty than that which had created and ruled the elements, heredisplayed 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, theimpetuous Arve, and cottages every here and there peeping forth fromamong the trees formed a scene of singular beauty. But it wasaugmented and rendered sublime by the mighty Alps, whose white andshining pyramids and domes towered above all, as belonging to anotherearth, the habitations of another race of beings.

I passed the bridge of Pelissier, where the ravine, which the riverforms, opened before me, and I began to ascend the mountain thatoverhangs it. Soon after, I entered the valley of Chamounix. Thisvalley is more wonderful and sublime, but not so beautiful andpicturesque as that of Servox, through which I had just passed. Thehigh and snowy mountains were its immediate boundaries, but I saw nomore ruined castles and fertile fields. Immense glaciers approachedthe road; I heard the rumbling thunder of the falling avalanche andmarked the smoke of its passage. Mont Blanc, the supreme andmagnificent Mont Blanc, raised itself from the surrounding aiguilles,and its tremendous dome overlooked the valley.

A tingling long-lost sense of pleasure often came across me during thisjourney. Some turn in the road, some new object suddenly perceived andrecognized, reminded me of days gone by, and were associated with thelighthearted gaiety of boyhood. The very winds whispered in soothingaccents, and maternal Nature bade me weep no more. Then again thekindly influence ceased to act—I found myself fettered again to griefand indulging in all the misery of reflection. Then I spurred on myanimal, striving so to forget the world, my fears, and more than all,myself—or, in a more desperate fashion, I alighted and threw myself onthe grass, weighed down by horror and despair.

At length I arrived at the village of Chamounix. Exhaustion succeededto 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 pallidlightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing ofthe Arve, which pursued its noisy way beneath. The same lulling soundsacted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my headupon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessedthe giver of oblivion.

Chapter 10

I spent the following day roaming through the valley. I stood besidethe sources of the Arveiron, which take their rise in a glacier, thatwith slow pace is advancing down from the summit of the hills tobarricade the valley. The abrupt sides of vast mountains were beforeme; the icy wall of the glacier overhung me; a few shattered pines werescattered around; and the solemn silence of this gloriouspresence-chamber of imperial nature was broken only by the brawlingwaves or the fall of some vast fragment, the thunder sound of theavalanche or the cracking, reverberated along the mountains, of theaccumulated ice, which, through the silent working of immutable laws,was ever and anon rent and torn, as if it had been but a plaything intheir hands. These sublime and magnificent scenes afforded me thegreatest consolation that I was capable of receiving. They elevated mefrom all littleness of feeling, and although they did not remove mygrief, they subdued and tranquillized it. In some degree, also, theydiverted my mind from the thoughts over which it had brooded for thelast month. I retired to rest at night; my slumbers, as it were,waited on and ministered to by the assemblance of grand shapes which Ihad contemplated during the day. They congregated round me; theunstained snowy mountain-top, the glittering pinnacle, the pine woods,and ragged bare ravine, the eagle, soaring amidst the clouds—they allgathered round me and bade me be at peace.

Where had they fled when the next morning I awoke? All ofsoul-inspiriting fled with sleep, and dark melancholy clouded everythought. The rain was pouring in torrents, and thick mists hid thesummits of the mountains, so that I even saw not the faces of thosemighty friends. Still I would penetrate their misty veil and seek themin their cloudy retreats. What were rain and storm to me? My mule wasbrought to the door, and I resolved to ascend to the summit ofMontanvert. I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendousand 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 thesoul 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 theeffect of solemnizing my mind and causing me to forget the passingcares of life. I determined to go without a guide, for I was wellacquainted with the path, and the presence of another would destroy thesolitary grandeur of the scene.

The ascent is precipitous, but the path is cut into continual and shortwindings, which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of themountain. It is a scene terrifically desolate. In a thousand spotsthe traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived, where trees liebroken and strewed on the ground, some entirely destroyed, others bent,leaning upon the jutting rocks of the mountain or transversely uponother trees. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravinesof snow, down which stones continually roll from above; one of them isparticularly dangerous, as the slightest sound, such as even speakingin a loud voice, produces a concussion of air sufficient to drawdestruction upon the head of the speaker. The pines are not tall orluxuriant, 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 riverswhich ran through it and curling in thick wreaths around the oppositemountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds, while rainpoured from the dark sky and added to the melancholy impression Ireceived from the objects around me. Alas! Why does man boast ofsensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only rendersthem more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger,thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved byevery wind that blows and a chance word or scene that that word mayconvey 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 sometime I sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice. A mist coveredboth that and the surrounding mountains. Presently a breeze dissipatedthe cloud, and I descended upon the glacier. The surface is veryuneven, rising like the waves of a troubled sea, descending low, andinterspersed by rifts that sink deep. The field of ice is almost aleague in width, but I spent nearly two hours in crossing it. Theopposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock. From the side where Inow stood Montanvert was exactly opposite, at the distance of a league;and above it rose Mont Blanc, in awful majesty. I remained in a recessof 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 glitteringpeaks shone in the sunlight over the clouds. My heart, which wasbefore sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy; I exclaimed,"Wandering spirits, if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in your narrowbeds, 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 thecrevices in the ice, among which I had walked with caution; hisstature, also, as he approached, seemed to exceed that of man. I wastroubled; 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. Iperceived, as the shape came nearer (sight tremendous and abhorred!)that it was the wretch whom I had created. I trembled with rage andhorror, resolving to wait his approach and then close with him inmortal combat. He approached; his countenance bespoke bitter anguish,combined with disdain and malignity, while its unearthly uglinessrendered it almost too horrible for human eyes. But I scarcelyobserved this; rage and hatred had at first deprived me of utterance,and I recovered only to overwhelm him with words expressive of furiousdetestation and contempt.

"Devil," I exclaimed, "do you dare approach me? And do not you fearthe 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 daemon. "All men hate thewretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond allliving things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature,to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation ofone 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 ofmankind. If you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them andyou at peace; but if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until itbe satiated with the blood of your remaining friends."

"Abhorred monster! Fiend that thou art! The tortures of hell are toomild a vengeance for thy crimes. Wretched devil! You reproach me withyour creation, come on, then, that I may extinguish the spark which Iso negligently bestowed."

My rage was without bounds; I sprang on him, impelled by all thefeelings 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 hatredon my devoted head. Have I not suffered enough, that you seek toincrease my misery? Life, although it may only be an accumulation ofanguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, thou hast mademe more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, myjoints more supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself inopposition to thee. I am thy creature, and I will be even mild anddocile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part,the which thou owest me. Oh, Frankenstein, be not equitable to everyother and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thyclemency 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 thoudrivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which Ialone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery mademe a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous."

"Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no community between youand 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 afavourable eye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness andcompassion? Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent; my soul glowedwith love and humanity; but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, mycreator, abhor me; what hope can I gather from your fellow creatures,who owe me nothing? They spurn and hate me. The desert mountains anddreary glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days; thecaves of ice, which I only do not fear, are a dwelling to me, and theonly one which man does not grudge. These bleak skies I hail, for theyare kinder to me than your fellow beings. If the multitude of mankindknew of my existence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves formy destruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keepno terms with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share mywretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompense me, and deliverthem from an evil which it only remains for you to make so great, thatnot only you and your family, but thousands of others, shall beswallowed up in the whirlwinds of its rage. Let your compassion bemoved, and do not disdain me. Listen to my tale; when you have heardthat, abandon or commiserate me, as you shall judge that I deserve.But hear me. The guilty are allowed, by human laws, bloody as theyare, to speak in their own defence before they are condemned. Listento me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder, and yet you would, witha satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise theeternal 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, "circ*mstances ofwhich I shudder to reflect, that I have been the miserable origin andauthor? Cursed be the day, abhorred devil, in which you first sawlight! Cursed (although I curse myself) be the hands that formed you!You have made me wretched beyond expression. You have left me no powerto consider whether I am just to you or not. Begone! Relieve me fromthe sight of your detested form."

"Thus I relieve thee, my creator," he said, and placed his hated handsbefore my eyes, which I flung from me with violence; "thus I take fromthee a sight which you abhor. Still thou canst listen to me and grantme thy compassion. By the virtues that I once possessed, I demand thisfrom you. Hear my tale; it is long and strange, and the temperature ofthis place is not fitting to your fine sensations; come to the hut uponthe mountain. The sun is yet high in the heavens; before it descendsto hide itself behind your snowy precipices and illuminate anotherworld, you will have heard my story and can decide. On you it rests,whether I quit forever the neighbourhood of man and lead a harmlesslife, or become the scourge of your fellow creatures and the author ofyour own speedy ruin."

As he said this he led the way across the ice; I followed. My heartwas full, and I did not answer him, but as I proceeded, I weighed thevarious arguments that he had used and determined at least to listen tohis tale. I was partly urged by curiosity, and compassion confirmed myresolution. I had hitherto supposed him to be the murderer of mybrother, and I eagerly sought a confirmation or denial of this opinion.For the first time, also, I felt what the duties of a creator towardshis creature were, and that I ought to render him happy before Icomplained of his wickedness. These motives urged me to comply withhis demand. We crossed the ice, therefore, and ascended the oppositerock. The air was cold, and the rain again began to descend; weentered the hut, the fiend with an air of exultation, I with a heavyheart and depressed spirits. But I consented to listen, and seatingmyself by the fire which my odious companion had lighted, he thus beganhis tale.

Chapter 11

"It is with considerable difficulty that I remember the original era ofmy 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 Ilearned to distinguish between the operations of my various senses. Bydegrees, I remember, a stronger light pressed upon my nerves, so that Iwas obliged to shut my eyes. Darkness then came over me and troubledme, but hardly had I felt this when, by opening my eyes, as I nowsuppose, 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 mytouch or sight; but I now found that I could wander on at liberty, withno obstacles which I could not either surmount or avoid. The lightbecame more and more oppressive to me, and the heat wearying me as Iwalked, I sought a place where I could receive shade. This was theforest near Ingolstadt; and here I lay by the side of a brook restingfrom my fatigue, until I felt tormented by hunger and thirst. Thisroused me from my nearly dormant state, and I ate some berries which Ifound hanging on the trees or lying on the ground. I slaked my thirstat the brook, and then lying down, was overcome by sleep.

"It was dark when I awoke; I felt cold also, and half frightened, as itwere, instinctively, finding myself so desolate. Before I had quittedyour apartment, on a sensation of cold, I had covered myself with someclothes, but these were insufficient to secure me from the dews ofnight. I was a poor, helpless, miserable wretch; I knew, and coulddistinguish, nothing; but feeling pain invade me on all sides, I satdown and wept.

"Soon a gentle light stole over the heavens and gave me a sensation ofpleasure. I started up and beheld a radiant form rise from among thetrees. [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, withwhich I covered myself, and sat down upon the ground. No distinctideas occupied my mind; all was confused. I felt light, and hunger,and thirst, and darkness; innumerable sounds rang in my ears, and onall sides various scents saluted me; the only object that I coulddistinguish was the bright moon, and I fixed my eyes on that withpleasure.

"Several changes of day and night passed, and the orb of night hadgreatly lessened, when I began to distinguish my sensations from eachother. I gradually saw plainly the clear stream that supplied me withdrink and the trees that shaded me with their foliage. I was delightedwhen I first discovered that a pleasant sound, which often saluted myears, proceeded from the throats of the little winged animals who hadoften intercepted the light from my eyes. I began also to observe,with greater accuracy, the forms that surrounded me and to perceive theboundaries of the radiant roof of light which canopied me. Sometimes Itried to imitate the pleasant songs of the birds but was unable.Sometimes I wished to express my sensations in my own mode, but theuncouth and inarticulate sounds which broke from me frightened me intosilence again.

"The moon had disappeared from the night, and again, with a lessenedform, showed itself, while I still remained in the forest. Mysensations had by this time become distinct, and my mind received everyday additional ideas. My eyes became accustomed to the light and toperceive objects in their right forms; I distinguished the insect fromthe herb, and by degrees, one herb from another. I found that thesparrow uttered none but harsh notes, whilst those of the blackbird andthrush were sweet and enticing.

"One day, when I was oppressed by cold, I found a fire which had beenleft by some wandering beggars, and was overcome with delight at thewarmth I experienced from it. In my joy I thrust my hand into the liveembers, but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain. How strange,I thought, that the same cause should produce such opposite effects! Iexamined the materials of the fire, and to my joy found it to becomposed of wood. I quickly collected some branches, but they were wetand would not burn. I was pained at this and sat still watching theoperation of the fire. The wet wood which I had placed near the heatdried and itself became inflamed. I reflected on this, and by touchingthe various branches, I discovered the cause and busied myself incollecting a great quantity of wood, that I might dry it and have aplentiful supply of fire. When night came on and brought sleep withit, I was in the greatest fear lest my fire should be extinguished. Icovered it carefully with dry wood and leaves and placed wet branchesupon it; and then, spreading my cloak, I lay on the ground and sankinto 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. Iobserved this also and contrived a fan of branches, which roused theembers when they were nearly extinguished. When night came again Ifound, with pleasure, that the fire gave light as well as heat and thatthe discovery of this element was useful to me in my food, for I foundsome of the offals that the travellers had left had been roasted, andtasted much more savoury than the berries I gathered from the trees. Itried, therefore, to dress my food in the same manner, placing it onthe live embers. I found that the berries were spoiled by thisoperation, and the nuts and roots much improved.

"Food, however, became scarce, and I often spent the whole daysearching in vain for a few acorns to assuage the pangs of hunger. WhenI found this, I resolved to quit the place that I had hithertoinhabited, to seek for one where the few wants I experienced would bemore easily satisfied. In this emigration I exceedingly lamented theloss of the fire which I had obtained through accident and knew not howto reproduce it. I gave several hours to the serious consideration ofthis difficulty, but I was obliged to relinquish all attempt to supplyit, and wrapping myself up in my cloak, I struck across the woodtowards the setting sun. I passed three days in these rambles and atlength discovered the open country. A great fall of snow had takenplace the night before, and the fields were of one uniform white; theappearance was disconsolate, and I found my feet chilled by the colddamp substance that covered the ground.

"It was about seven in the morning, and I longed to obtain food andshelter; at length I perceived a small hut, on a rising ground, whichhad doubtless been built for the convenience of some shepherd. Thiswas a new sight to me, and I examined the structure with greatcuriosity. Finding the door open, I entered. An old man sat in it,near a fire, over which he was preparing his breakfast. He turned onhearing a noise, and perceiving me, shrieked loudly, and quitting thehut, ran across the fields with a speed of which his debilitated formhardly appeared capable. His appearance, different from any I had everbefore seen, and his flight somewhat surprised me. But I was enchantedby the appearance of the hut; here the snow and rain could notpenetrate; the ground was dry; and it presented to me then as exquisiteand divine a retreat as Pandemonium appeared to the demons of hellafter their sufferings in the lake of fire. I greedily devoured theremnants of the shepherd's breakfast, which consisted of bread, cheese,milk, and wine; the latter, however, I did not like. Then, overcome byfatigue, I lay down among some straw and fell asleep.

"It was noon when I awoke, and allured by the warmth of the sun, whichshone brightly on the white ground, I determined to recommence mytravels; and, depositing the remains of the peasant's breakfast in awallet I found, I proceeded across the fields for several hours, untilat sunset I arrived at a village. How miraculous did this appear! Thehuts, the neater cottages, and stately houses engaged my admiration byturns. The vegetables in the gardens, the milk and cheese that I sawplaced at the windows of some of the cottages, allured my appetite. Oneof the best of these I entered, but I had hardly placed my foot withinthe 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, Iescaped to the open country and fearfully took refuge in a low hovel,quite bare, and making a wretched appearance after the palaces I hadbeheld in the village. This hovel however, joined a cottage of a neatand pleasant appearance, but after my late dearly bought experience, Idared not enter it. My place of refuge was constructed of wood, but solow 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; andalthough the wind entered it by innumerable chinks, I found it anagreeable 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 morefrom the barbarity of man. As soon as morning dawned I crept from mykennel, that I might view the adjacent cottage and discover if I couldremain in the habitation I had found. It was situated against the backof the cottage and surrounded on the sides which were exposed by a pigsty and a clear pool of water. One part was open, and by that I hadcrept in; but now I covered every crevice by which I might be perceivedwith stones and wood, yet in such a manner that I might move them onoccasion to pass out; all the light I enjoyed came through the sty, andthat was sufficient for me.

"Having thus arranged my dwelling and carpeted it with clean straw, Iretired, for I saw the figure of a man at a distance, and I rememberedtoo well my treatment the night before to trust myself in his power. Ihad first, however, provided for my sustenance for that day by a loafof coarse bread, which I purloined, and a cup with which I could drinkmore conveniently than from my hand of the pure water which flowed bymy retreat. The floor was a little raised, so that it was keptperfectly dry, and by its vicinity to the chimney of the cottage it wastolerably warm.

"Being thus provided, I resolved to reside in this hovel untilsomething should occur which might alter my determination. It wasindeed a paradise compared to the bleak forest, my former residence,the rain-dropping branches, and dank earth. I ate my breakfast withpleasure and was about to remove a plank to procure myself a littlewater when I heard a step, and looking through a small chink, I behelda young creature, with a pail on her head, passing before my hovel. Thegirl was young and of gentle demeanour, unlike what I have since foundcottagers and farmhouse servants to be. Yet she was meanly dressed, acoarse blue petticoat and a linen jacket being her only garb; her fairhair was plaited but not adorned: she looked patient yet sad. I lostsight of her, and in about a quarter of an hour she returned bearingthe pail, which was now partly filled with milk. As she walked along,seemingly incommoded by the burden, a young man met her, whosecountenance expressed a deeper despondence. Uttering a few sounds withan air of melancholy, he took the pail from her head and bore it to thecottage himself. She followed, and they disappeared. Presently I sawthe young man again, with some tools in his hand, cross the fieldbehind the cottage; and the girl was also busied, sometimes in thehouse and sometimes in the yard.

"On examining my dwelling, I found that one of the windows of thecottage had formerly occupied a part of it, but the panes had beenfilled up with wood. In one of these was a small and almostimperceptible chink through which the eye could just penetrate.Through this crevice a small room was visible, whitewashed and cleanbut very bare of furniture. In one corner, near a small fire, sat anold man, leaning his head on his hands in a disconsolate attitude. Theyoung girl was occupied in arranging the cottage; but presently shetook something out of a drawer, which employed her hands, and she satdown beside the old man, who, taking up an instrument, began to playand to produce sounds sweeter than the voice of the thrush or thenightingale. It was a lovely sight, even to me, poor wretch who hadnever beheld aught beautiful before. The silver hair and benevolentcountenance of the aged cottager won my reverence, while the gentlemanners of the girl enticed my love. He played a sweet mournful airwhich I perceived drew tears from the eyes of his amiable companion, ofwhich the old man took no notice, until she sobbed audibly; he thenpronounced a few sounds, and the fair creature, leaving her work, kneltat his feet. He raised her and smiled with such kindness and affectionthat I felt sensations of a peculiar and overpowering nature; they werea mixture of pain and pleasure, such as I had never before experienced,either from hunger or cold, warmth or food; and I withdrew from thewindow, unable to bear these emotions.

"Soon after this the young man returned, bearing on his shoulders aload of wood. The girl met him at the door, helped to relieve him ofhis burden, and taking some of the fuel into the cottage, placed it onthe 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 seemedpleased and went into the garden for some roots and plants, which sheplaced in water, and then upon the fire. She afterwards continued herwork, whilst the young man went into the garden and appeared busilyemployed in digging and pulling up roots. After he had been employedthus about an hour, the young woman joined him and they entered thecottage together.

"The old man had, in the meantime, been pensive, but on the appearanceof his companions he assumed a more cheerful air, and they sat down toeat. The meal was quickly dispatched. The young woman was againoccupied in arranging the cottage, the old man walked before thecottage in the sun for a few minutes, leaning on the arm of the youth.Nothing could exceed in beauty the contrast between these two excellentcreatures. One was old, with silver hairs and a countenance beamingwith benevolence and love; the younger was slight and graceful in hisfigure, and his features were moulded with the finest symmetry, yet hiseyes and attitude expressed the utmost sadness and despondency. Theold man returned to the cottage, and the youth, with tools differentfrom those he had used in the morning, directed his steps across thefields.

"Night quickly shut in, but to my extreme wonder, I found that thecottagers had a means of prolonging light by the use of tapers, and wasdelighted to find that the setting of the sun did not put an end to thepleasure I experienced in watching my human neighbours. In the eveningthe young girl and her companion were employed in various occupationswhich I did not understand; and the old man again took up theinstrument which produced the divine sounds that had enchanted me inthe morning. So soon as he had finished, the youth began, not to play,but to utter sounds that were monotonous, and neither resembling theharmony of the old man's instrument nor the songs of the birds; I sincefound that he read aloud, but at that time I knew nothing of thescience 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 theoccurrences of the day. What chiefly struck me was the gentle mannersof these people, and I longed to join them, but dared not. Iremembered too well the treatment I had suffered the night before fromthe barbarous villagers, and resolved, whatever course of conduct Imight hereafter think it right to pursue, that for the present I wouldremain quietly in my hovel, watching and endeavouring to discover themotives which influenced their actions.

"The cottagers arose the next morning before the sun. The young womanarranged the cottage and prepared the food, and the youth departedafter 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 invarious laborious occupations within. The old man, whom I soonperceived to be blind, employed his leisure hours on his instrument orin contemplation. Nothing could exceed the love and respect which theyounger cottagers exhibited towards their venerable companion. Theyperformed towards him every little office of affection and duty withgentleness, and he rewarded them by his benevolent smiles.

"They were not entirely happy. The young man and his companion oftenwent apart and appeared to weep. I saw no cause for their unhappiness,but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures weremiserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being,should be wretched. Yet why were these gentle beings unhappy? Theypossessed a delightful house (for such it was in my eyes) and everyluxury; they had a fire to warm them when chill and delicious viandswhen hungry; they were dressed in excellent clothes; and, still more,they enjoyed one another's company and speech, interchanging each daylooks of affection and kindness. What did their tears imply? Did theyreally express pain? I was at first unable to solve these questions,but perpetual attention and time explained to me many appearances whichwere at first enigmatic.

"A considerable period elapsed before I discovered one of the causes ofthe uneasiness of this amiable family: it was poverty, and theysuffered that evil in a very distressing degree. Their nourishmentconsisted entirely of the vegetables of their garden and the milk ofone cow, which gave very little during the winter, when its masterscould scarcely procure food to support it. They often, I believe,suffered the pangs of hunger very poignantly, especially the twoyounger cottagers, for several times they placed food before the oldman 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 ownconsumption, but when I found that in doing this I inflicted pain onthe cottagers, I abstained and satisfied myself with berries, nuts, androots which I gathered from a neighbouring wood.

"I discovered also another means through which I was enabled to assisttheir labours. I found that the youth spent a great part of each dayin collecting wood for the family fire, and during the night I oftentook his tools, the use of which I quickly discovered, and brought homefiring sufficient for the consumption of several days.

"I remember, the first time that I did this, the young woman, when sheopened the door in the morning, appeared greatly astonished on seeing agreat pile of wood on the outside. She uttered some words in a loudvoice, and the youth joined her, who also expressed surprise. Iobserved, with pleasure, that he did not go to the forest that day, butspent it in repairing the cottage and cultivating the garden.

"By degrees I made a discovery of still greater moment. I found thatthese people possessed a method of communicating their experience andfeelings to one another by articulate sounds. I perceived that thewords they spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles orsadness, in the minds and countenances of the hearers. This was indeeda godlike science, and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it.But I was baffled in every attempt I made for this purpose. Theirpronunciation was quick, and the words they uttered, not having anyapparent connection with visible objects, I was unable to discover anyclue by which I could unravel the mystery of their reference. By greatapplication, however, and after having remained during the space ofseveral revolutions of the moon in my hovel, I discovered the namesthat were given to some of the most familiar objects of discourse; Ilearned and applied the words, 'fire,' 'milk,' 'bread,' and 'wood.' Ilearned also the names of the cottagers themselves. The youth and hiscompanion had each of them several names, but the old man had only one,which was 'father.' The girl was called 'sister' or 'Agatha,' and theyouth 'Felix,' 'brother,' or 'son.' I cannot describe the delight Ifelt when I learned the ideas appropriated to each of these sounds andwas able to pronounce them. I distinguished several other wordswithout 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 ofthe cottagers greatly endeared them to me; when they were unhappy, Ifelt depressed; when they rejoiced, I sympathized in their joys. I sawfew human beings besides them, and if any other happened to enter thecottage, their harsh manners and rude gait only enhanced to me thesuperior accomplishments of my friends. The old man, I could perceive,often endeavoured to encourage his children, as sometimes I found thathe called them, to cast off their melancholy. He would talk in acheerful accent, with an expression of goodness that bestowed pleasureeven upon me. Agatha listened with respect, her eyes sometimes filledwith tears, which she endeavoured to wipe away unperceived; but Igenerally found that her countenance and tone were more cheerful afterhaving listened to the exhortations of her father. It was not thuswith Felix. He was always the saddest of the group, and even to myunpractised senses, he appeared to have suffered more deeply than hisfriends. But if his countenance was more sorrowful, his voice was morecheerful than that of his sister, especially when he addressed the oldman.

"I could mention innumerable instances which, although slight, markedthe dispositions of these amiable cottagers. In the midst of povertyand want, Felix carried with pleasure to his sister the first littlewhite flower that peeped out from beneath the snowy ground. Early inthe morning, before she had risen, he cleared away the snow thatobstructed her path to the milk-house, drew water from the well, andbrought the wood from the outhouse, where, to his perpetualastonishment, he found his store always replenished by an invisiblehand. In the day, I believe, he worked sometimes for a neighbouringfarmer, 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 oldman and Agatha.

"This reading had puzzled me extremely at first, but by degrees Idiscovered that he uttered many of the same sounds when he read as whenhe talked. I conjectured, therefore, that he found on the paper signsfor speech which he understood, and I ardently longed to comprehendthese also; but how was that possible when I did not even understandthe sounds for which they stood as signs? I improved, however,sensibly in this science, but not sufficiently to follow up any kind ofconversation, although I applied my whole mind to the endeavour, for Ieasily perceived that, although I eagerly longed to discover myself tothe cottagers, I ought not to make the attempt until I had first becomemaster of their language, which knowledge might enable me to make themoverlook the deformity of my figure, for with this also the contrastperpetually 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 myselfin a transparent pool! At first I started back, unable to believe thatit was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror; and when I becamefully convinced that I was in reality the monster that I am, I wasfilled with the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification.Alas! I did not yet entirely know the fatal effects of this miserabledeformity.

"As the sun became warmer and the light of day longer, the snowvanished, and I beheld the bare trees and the black earth. From thistime Felix was more employed, and the heart-moving indications ofimpending famine disappeared. Their food, as I afterwards found, wascoarse, but it was wholesome; and they procured a sufficiency of it.Several new kinds of plants sprang up in the garden, which theydressed; and these signs of comfort increased daily as the seasonadvanced.

"The old man, leaning on his son, walked each day at noon, when it didnot rain, as I found it was called when the heavens poured forth itswaters. This frequently took place, but a high wind quickly dried theearth, and the season became far more pleasant than it had been.

"My mode of life in my hovel was uniform. During the morning Iattended the motions of the cottagers, and when they were dispersed invarious occupations, I slept; the remainder of the day was spent inobserving my friends. When they had retired to rest, if there was anymoon or the night was star-light, I went into the woods and collectedmy own food and fuel for the cottage. When I returned, as often as itwas necessary, I cleared their path from the snow and performed thoseoffices that I had seen done by Felix. I afterwards found that theselabours, performed by an invisible hand, greatly astonished them; andonce or twice I heard them, on these occasions, utter the words 'goodspirit,' 'wonderful'; but I did not then understand the significationof these terms.

"My thoughts now became more active, and I longed to discover themotives and feelings of these lovely creatures; I was inquisitive toknow why Felix appeared so miserable and Agatha so sad. I thought(foolish wretch!) that it might be in my power to restore happiness tothese deserving people. When I slept or was absent, the forms of thevenerable blind father, the gentle Agatha, and the excellent Felixflitted before me. I looked upon them as superior beings who would bethe arbiters of my future destiny. I formed in my imagination athousand pictures of presenting myself to them, and their reception ofme. I imagined that they would be disgusted, until, by my gentledemeanour and conciliating words, I should first win their favour andafterwards their love.

"These thoughts exhilarated me and led me to apply with fresh ardour tothe acquiring the art of language. My organs were indeed harsh, butsupple; and although my voice was very unlike the soft music of theirtones, 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 whoseintentions were affectionate, although his manners were rude, deservedbetter treatment than blows and execration.

"The pleasant showers and genial warmth of spring greatly altered theaspect of the earth. Men who before this change seemed to have beenhid in caves dispersed themselves and were employed in various arts ofcultivation. The birds sang in more cheerful notes, and the leavesbegan to bud forth on the trees. Happy, happy earth! Fit habitationfor gods, which, so short a time before, was bleak, damp, andunwholesome. My spirits were elevated by the enchanting appearance ofnature; 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 relateevents 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 skiescloudless. It surprised me that what before was desert and gloomyshould now bloom with the most beautiful flowers and verdure. Mysenses were gratified and refreshed by a thousand scents of delight anda thousand sights of beauty.

"It was on one of these days, when my cottagers periodically restedfrom labour—the old man played on his guitar, and the childrenlistened to him—that I observed the countenance of Felix wasmelancholy beyond expression; he sighed frequently, and once his fatherpaused in his music, and I conjectured by his manner that he inquiredthe cause of his son's sorrow. Felix replied in a cheerful accent, andthe 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 blackveil. Agatha asked a question, to which the stranger only replied bypronouncing, in a sweet accent, the name of Felix. Her voice wasmusical 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 herveil, and I beheld a countenance of angelic beauty and expression. Herhair of a shining raven black, and curiously braided; her eyes weredark, but gentle, although animated; her features of a regularproportion, and her complexion wondrously fair, each cheek tinged witha lovely pink.

"Felix seemed ravished with delight when he saw her, every trait ofsorrow vanished from his face, and it instantly expressed a degree ofecstatic joy, of which I could hardly have believed it capable; hiseyes sparkled, as his cheek flushed with pleasure; and at that moment Ithought him as beautiful as the stranger. She appeared affected bydifferent feelings; wiping a few tears from her lovely eyes, she heldout her hand to Felix, who kissed it rapturously and called her, aswell as I could distinguish, his sweet Arabian. She did not appear tounderstand him, but smiled. He assisted her to dismount, anddismissing her guide, conducted her into the cottage. Someconversation took place between him and his father, and the youngstranger 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 soundsand appeared to have a language of her own, she was neither understoodby nor herself understood the cottagers. They made many signs which Idid not comprehend, but I saw that her presence diffused gladnessthrough the cottage, dispelling their sorrow as the sun dissipates themorning mists. Felix seemed peculiarly happy and with smiles ofdelight welcomed his Arabian. Agatha, the ever-gentle Agatha, kissedthe hands of the lovely stranger, and pointing to her brother, madesigns which appeared to me to mean that he had been sorrowful until shecame. Some hours passed thus, while they, by their countenances,expressed joy, the cause of which I did not comprehend. Presently Ifound, by the frequent recurrence of some sound which the strangerrepeated after them, that she was endeavouring to learn their language;and the idea instantly occurred to me that I should make use of thesame instructions to the same end. The stranger learned about twentywords at the first lesson; most of them, indeed, were those which I hadbefore understood, but I profited by the others.

"As night came on, Agatha and the Arabian retired early. When theyseparated Felix kissed the hand of the stranger and said, 'Good nightsweet Safie.' He sat up much longer, conversing with his father, andby the frequent repetition of her name I conjectured that their lovelyguest was the subject of their conversation. I ardently desired tounderstand them, and bent every faculty towards that purpose, but foundit utterly impossible.

"The next morning Felix went out to his work, and after the usualoccupations of Agatha were finished, the Arabian sat at the feet of theold man, and taking his guitar, played some airs so entrancinglybeautiful that they at once drew tears of sorrow and delight from myeyes. She sang, and her voice flowed in a rich cadence, swelling ordying away like a nightingale of the woods.

"When she had finished, she gave the guitar to Agatha, who at firstdeclined it. She played a simple air, and her voice accompanied it insweet accents, but unlike the wondrous strain of the stranger. The oldman appeared enraptured and said some words which Agatha endeavoured toexplain to Safie, and by which he appeared to wish to express that shebestowed on him the greatest delight by her music.

"The days now passed as peaceably as before, with the sole alterationthat joy had taken place of sadness in the countenances of my friends.Safie was always gay and happy; she and I improved rapidly in theknowledge of language, so that in two months I began to comprehend mostof the words uttered by my protectors.

"In the meanwhile also the black ground was covered with herbage, andthe green banks interspersed with innumerable flowers, sweet to thescent and the eyes, stars of pale radiance among the moonlight woods;the sun became warmer, the nights clear and balmy; and my nocturnalrambles were an extreme pleasure to me, although they were considerablyshortened by the late setting and early rising of the sun, for I neverventured abroad during daylight, fearful of meeting with the sametreatment I had formerly endured in the first village which I entered.

"My days were spent in close attention, that I might more speedilymaster the language; and I may boast that I improved more rapidly thanthe Arabian, who understood very little and conversed in brokenaccents, whilst I comprehended and could imitate almost every word thatwas spoken.

"While I improved in speech, I also learned the science of letters asit was taught to the stranger, and this opened before me a wide fieldfor wonder and delight.

"The book from which Felix instructed Safie was Volney's Ruins ofEmpires. I should not have understood the purport of this book had notFelix, in reading it, given very minute explanations. He had chosenthis work, he said, because the declamatory style was framed inimitation of the Eastern authors. Through this work I obtained acursory knowledge of history and a view of the several empires atpresent existing in the world; it gave me an insight into the manners,governments, and religions of the different nations of the earth. Iheard of the slothful Asiatics, of the stupendous genius and mentalactivity of the Grecians, of the wars and wonderful virtue of the earlyRomans—of their subsequent degenerating—of the decline of that mightyempire, of chivalry, Christianity, and kings. I heard of the discoveryof the American hemisphere and wept with Safie over the hapless fate ofits original inhabitants.

"These wonderful narrations inspired me with strange feelings. Wasman, indeed, at once so powerful, so virtuous and magnificent, yet sovicious and base? He appeared at one time a mere scion of the evilprinciple and at another as all that can be conceived of noble andgodlike. To be a great and virtuous man appeared the highest honourthat can befall a sensitive being; to be base and vicious, as many onrecord have been, appeared the lowest degradation, a condition moreabject than that of the blind mole or harmless worm. For a long time Icould not conceive how one man could go forth to murder his fellow, oreven why there were laws and governments; but when I heard details ofvice and bloodshed, my wonder ceased and I turned away with disgust andloathing.

"Every conversation of the cottagers now opened new wonders to me.While I listened to the instructions which Felix bestowed upon theArabian, the strange system of human society was explained to me. Iheard of the division of property, of immense wealth and squalidpoverty, of rank, descent, and noble blood.

"The words induced me to turn towards myself. I learned that thepossessions most esteemed by your fellow creatures were high andunsullied descent united with riches. A man might be respected withonly one of these advantages, but without either he was considered,except in very rare instances, as a vagabond and a slave, doomed towaste his powers for the profits of the chosen few! And what was I? Ofmy creation and creator I was absolutely ignorant, but I knew that Ipossessed no money, no friends, no kind of property. I was, besides,endued with a figure hideously deformed and loathsome; I was not evenof the same nature as man. I was more agile than they and couldsubsist upon coarser diet; I bore the extremes of heat and cold withless injury to my frame; my stature far exceeded theirs. When I lookedaround I saw and heard of none like me. Was I, then, a monster, a blotupon the earth, from which all men fled and whom all men disowned?

"I cannot describe to you the agony that these reflections inflictedupon me; I tried to dispel them, but sorrow only increased withknowledge. Oh, that I had forever remained in my native wood, norknown nor felt beyond the sensations of hunger, thirst, and heat!

"Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to the mind when ithas once seized on it like a lichen on the rock. I wished sometimes toshake off all thought and feeling, but I learned that there was but onemeans to overcome the sensation of pain, and that was death—a statewhich I feared yet did not understand. I admired virtue and goodfeelings and loved the gentle manners and amiable qualities of mycottagers, but I was shut out from intercourse with them, exceptthrough means which I obtained by stealth, when I was unseen andunknown, and which rather increased than satisfied the desire I had ofbecoming one among my fellows. The gentle words of Agatha and theanimated smiles of the charming Arabian were not for me. The mildexhortations of the old man and the lively conversation of the lovedFelix were not for me. Miserable, unhappy wretch!

"Other lessons were impressed upon me even more deeply. I heard of thedifference of sexes, and the birth and growth of children, how thefather doted on the smiles of the infant, and the lively sallies of theolder child, how all the life and cares of the mother were wrapped upin the precious charge, how the mind of youth expanded and gainedknowledge, of brother, sister, and all the various relationships whichbind one human being to another in mutual bonds.

"But where were my friends and relations? No father had watched myinfant days, no mother had blessed me with smiles and caresses; or ifthey had, all my past life was now a blot, a blind vacancy in which Idistinguished nothing. From my earliest remembrance I had been as Ithen was in height and proportion. I had never yet seen a beingresembling me or who claimed any intercourse with me. What was I? Thequestion again recurred, to be answered only with groans.

"I will soon explain to what these feelings tended, but allow me now toreturn to the cottagers, whose story excited in me such variousfeelings of indignation, delight, and wonder, but which all terminatedin additional love and reverence for my protectors (for so I loved, inan innocent, half-painful self-deceit, to call them)."

Chapter 14

"Some time elapsed before I learned the history of my friends. It wasone which could not fail to impress itself deeply on my mind, unfoldingas it did a number of circ*mstances, each interesting and wonderful toone so utterly inexperienced as I was.

"The name of the old man was De Lacey. He was descended from a goodfamily in France, where he had lived for many years in affluence,respected by his superiors and beloved by his equals. His son was bredin the service of his country, and Agatha had ranked with ladies of thehighest distinction. A few months before my arrival they had lived ina large and luxurious city called Paris, surrounded by friends andpossessed of every enjoyment which virtue, refinement of intellect, ortaste, accompanied by a moderate fortune, could afford.

"The father of Safie had been the cause of their ruin. He was aTurkish merchant and had inhabited Paris for many years, when, for somereason which I could not learn, he became obnoxious to the government.He was seized and cast into prison the very day that Safie arrived fromConstantinople to join him. He was tried and condemned to death. Theinjustice of his sentence was very flagrant; all Paris was indignant;and it was judged that his religion and wealth rather than the crimealleged against him had been the cause of his condemnation.

"Felix had accidentally been present at the trial; his horror andindignation were uncontrollable when he heard the decision of thecourt. He made, at that moment, a solemn vow to deliver him and thenlooked around for the means. After many fruitless attempts to gainadmittance to the prison, he found a strongly grated window in anunguarded part of the building, which lighted the dungeon of theunfortunate Muhammadan, who, loaded with chains, waited in despair theexecution of the barbarous sentence. Felix visited the grate at nightand made known to the prisoner his intentions in his favour. The Turk,amazed and delighted, endeavoured to kindle the zeal of his delivererby promises of reward and wealth. Felix rejected his offers withcontempt, yet when he saw the lovely Safie, who was allowed to visither father and who by her gestures expressed her lively gratitude, theyouth could not help owning to his own mind that the captive possesseda treasure which would fully reward his toil and hazard.

"The Turk quickly perceived the impression that his daughter had madeon the heart of Felix and endeavoured to secure him more entirely inhis interests by the promise of her hand in marriage so soon as heshould be conveyed to a place of safety. Felix was too delicate toaccept this offer, yet he looked forward to the probability of theevent as to the consummation of his happiness.

"During the ensuing days, while the preparations were going forward forthe escape of the merchant, the zeal of Felix was warmed by severalletters that he received from this lovely girl, who found means toexpress her thoughts in the language of her lover by the aid of an oldman, a servant of her father who understood French. She thanked him inthe most ardent terms for his intended services towards her parent, andat the same time she gently deplored her own fate.

"I have copies of these letters, for I found means, during my residencein the hovel, to procure the implements of writing; and the letterswere often in the hands of Felix or Agatha. Before I depart I willgive 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 repeatthe substance of them to you.

"Safie related that her mother was a Christian Arab, seized and made aslave by the Turks; recommended by her beauty, she had won the heart ofthe father of Safie, who married her. The young girl spoke in high andenthusiastic terms of her mother, who, born in freedom, spurned thebondage to which she was now reduced. She instructed her daughter inthe tenets of her religion and taught her to aspire to higher powers ofintellect and an independence of spirit forbidden to the femalefollowers of Muhammad. This lady died, but her lessons were indeliblyimpressed on the mind of Safie, who sickened at the prospect of againreturning to Asia and being immured within the walls of a harem,allowed only to occupy herself with infantile amusem*nts, ill-suited tothe temper of her soul, now accustomed to grand ideas and a nobleemulation for virtue. The prospect of marrying a Christian andremaining in a country where women were allowed to take a rank insociety was enchanting to her.

"The day for the execution of the Turk was fixed, but on the nightprevious to it he quitted his prison and before morning was distantmany leagues from Paris. Felix had procured passports in the name ofhis father, sister, and himself. He had previously communicated hisplan to the former, who aided the deceit by quitting his house, underthe pretence of a journey and concealed himself, with his daughter, inan obscure part of Paris.

"Felix conducted the fugitives through France to Lyons and across MontCenis to Leghorn, where the merchant had decided to wait a favourableopportunity of passing into some part of the Turkish dominions.

"Safie resolved to remain with her father until the moment of hisdeparture, before which time the Turk renewed his promise that sheshould be united to his deliverer; and Felix remained with them inexpectation of that event; and in the meantime he enjoyed the societyof the Arabian, who exhibited towards him the simplest and tenderestaffection. They conversed with one another through the means of aninterpreter, and sometimes with the interpretation of looks; and Safiesang to him the divine airs of her native country.

"The Turk allowed this intimacy to take place and encouraged the hopesof the youthful lovers, while in his heart he had formed far otherplans. He loathed the idea that his daughter should be united to aChristian, but he feared the resentment of Felix if he should appearlukewarm, for he knew that he was still in the power of his delivererif he should choose to betray him to the Italian state which theyinhabited. He revolved a thousand plans by which he should be enabledto prolong the deceit until it might be no longer necessary, andsecretly to take his daughter with him when he departed. His planswere facilitated by the news which arrived from Paris.

"The government of France were greatly enraged at the escape of theirvictim and spared no pains to detect and punish his deliverer. Theplot of Felix was quickly discovered, and De Lacey and Agatha werethrown into prison. The news reached Felix and roused him from hisdream of pleasure. His blind and aged father and his gentle sister layin a noisome dungeon while he enjoyed the free air and the society ofher whom he loved. This idea was torture to him. He quickly arrangedwith the Turk that if the latter should find a favourable opportunityfor escape before Felix could return to Italy, Safie should remain as aboarder at a convent at Leghorn; and then, quitting the lovely Arabian,he hastened to Paris and delivered himself up to the vengeance of thelaw, hoping to free De Lacey and Agatha by this proceeding.

"He did not succeed. They remained confined for five months before thetrial took place, the result of which deprived them of their fortuneand condemned them to a perpetual exile from their native country.

"They found a miserable asylum in the cottage in Germany, where Idiscovered them. Felix soon learned that the treacherous Turk, forwhom he and his family endured such unheard-of oppression, ondiscovering that his deliverer was thus reduced to poverty and ruin,became a traitor to good feeling and honour and had quitted Italy withhis 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 renderedhim, when I first saw him, the most miserable of his family. He couldhave endured poverty, and while this distress had been the meed of hisvirtue, he gloried in it; but the ingratitude of the Turk and the lossof his beloved Safie were misfortunes more bitter and irreparable. Thearrival of the Arabian now infused new life into his soul.

"When the news reached Leghorn that Felix was deprived of his wealthand rank, the merchant commanded his daughter to think no more of herlover, but to prepare to return to her native country. The generousnature of Safie was outraged by this command; she attempted toexpostulate with her father, but he left her angrily, reiterating histyrannical mandate.

"A few days after, the Turk entered his daughter's apartment and toldher hastily that he had reason to believe that his residence at Leghornhad been divulged and that he should speedily be delivered up to theFrench government; he had consequently hired a vessel to convey him toConstantinople, for which city he should sail in a few hours. Heintended to leave his daughter under the care of a confidentialservant, to follow at her leisure with the greater part of hisproperty, which had not yet arrived at Leghorn.

"When alone, Safie resolved in her own mind the plan of conduct that itwould become her to pursue in this emergency. A residence in Turkeywas abhorrent to her; her religion and her feelings were alike averseto it. By some papers of her father which fell into her hands sheheard of the exile of her lover and learnt the name of the spot wherehe then resided. She hesitated some time, but at length she formed herdetermination. Taking with her some jewels that belonged to her and asum of money, she quitted Italy with an attendant, a native of Leghorn,but who understood the common language of Turkey, and departed forGermany.

"She arrived in safety at a town about twenty leagues from the cottageof De Lacey, when her attendant fell dangerously ill. Safie nursed herwith the most devoted affection, but the poor girl died, and theArabian was left alone, unacquainted with the language of the countryand utterly ignorant of the customs of the world. She fell, however,into good hands. The Italian had mentioned the name of the spot forwhich they were bound, and after her death the woman of the house inwhich they had lived took care that Safie should arrive in safety atthe 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 admiretheir virtues and to deprecate the vices of mankind.

"As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil, benevolence andgenerosity were ever present before me, inciting within me a desire tobecome an actor in the busy scene where so many admirable qualitieswere called forth and displayed. But in giving an account of theprogress of my intellect, I must not omit a circ*mstance which occurredin the beginning of the month of August of the same year.

"One night during my accustomed visit to the neighbouring wood where Icollected my own food and brought home firing for my protectors, Ifound on the ground a leathern portmanteau containing several articlesof dress and some books. I eagerly seized the prize and returned withit to my hovel. Fortunately the books were written in the language,the elements of which I had acquired at the cottage; they consisted ofParadise Lost, a volume of Plutarch's Lives, and the Sorrows of Werter.The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I nowcontinually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories, whilstmy friends were employed in their ordinary occupations.

"I can hardly describe to you the effect of these books. They producedin me an infinity of new images and feelings, that sometimes raised meto ecstasy, but more frequently sunk me into the lowest dejection. Inthe Sorrows of Werter, besides the interest of its simple and affectingstory, so many opinions are canvassed and so many lights thrown uponwhat had hitherto been to me obscure subjects that I found in it anever-ending source of speculation and astonishment. The gentle anddomestic manners it described, combined with lofty sentiments andfeelings, which had for their object something out of self, accordedwell with my experience among my protectors and with the wants whichwere forever alive in my own bosom. But I thought Werter himself amore divine being than I had ever beheld or imagined; his charactercontained no pretension, but it sank deep. The disquisitions upondeath and suicide were calculated to fill me with wonder. I did notpretend to enter into the merits of the case, yet I inclined towardsthe opinions of the hero, whose extinction I wept, without preciselyunderstanding it.

"As I read, however, I applied much personally to my own feelings andcondition. I found myself similar yet at the same time strangelyunlike to the beings concerning whom I read and to whose conversation Iwas a listener. I sympathized with and partly understood them, but Iwas 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 myannihilation. My person was hideous and my stature gigantic. What didthis mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was mydestination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable tosolve them.

"The volume of Plutarch's Lives which I possessed contained thehistories of the first founders of the ancient republics. This bookhad a far different effect upon me from the Sorrows of Werter. Ilearned from Werter's imaginations despondency and gloom, but Plutarchtaught me high thoughts; he elevated me above the wretched sphere of myown reflections, to admire and love the heroes of past ages. Manythings I read surpassed my understanding and experience. I had a veryconfused knowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of country, mighty rivers,and boundless seas. But I was perfectly unacquainted with towns andlarge assemblages of men. The cottage of my protectors had been theonly school in which I had studied human nature, but this bookdeveloped new and mightier scenes of action. I read of men concernedin public affairs, governing or massacring their species. I felt thegreatest ardour for virtue rise within me, and abhorrence for vice, asfar as I understood the signification of those terms, relative as theywere, as I applied them, to pleasure and pain alone. Induced by thesefeelings, I was of course led to admire peaceable lawgivers, Numa,Solon, and Lycurgus, in preference to Romulus and Theseus. Thepatriarchal lives of my protectors caused these impressions to take afirm hold on my mind; perhaps, if my first introduction to humanity hadbeen made by a young soldier, burning for glory and slaughter, I shouldhave been imbued with different sensations.

"But Paradise Lost excited different and far deeper emotions. I readit, as I had read the other volumes which had fallen into my hands, asa true history. It moved every feeling of wonder and awe that thepicture of an omnipotent God warring with his creatures was capable ofexciting. I often referred the several situations, as their similaritystruck me, to my own. Like Adam, I was apparently united by no link toany other being in existence; but his state was far different from minein every other respect. He had come forth from the hands of God aperfect creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care ofhis Creator; he was allowed to converse with and acquire knowledge frombeings of a superior nature, but I was wretched, helpless, and alone.Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition, foroften, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bittergall of envy rose within me.

"Another circ*mstance strengthened and confirmed these feelings. Soonafter my arrival in the hovel I discovered some papers in the pocket ofthe dress which I had taken from your laboratory. At first I hadneglected them, but now that I was able to decipher the characters inwhich they were written, I began to study them with diligence. It wasyour journal of the four months that preceded my creation. Youminutely described in these papers every step you took in the progressof your work; this history was mingled with accounts of domesticoccurrences. You doubtless recollect these papers. Here they are.Everything is related in them which bears reference to my accursedorigin; the whole detail of that series of disgusting circ*mstanceswhich produced it is set in view; the minutest description of my odiousand loathsome person is given, in language which painted your ownhorrors and rendered mine indelible. I sickened as I read. 'Hatefulday when I received life!' I exclaimed in agony. 'Accursed creator!Why did you form a monster so hideous that even YOU turned from me indisgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his ownimage; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from thevery resemblance. Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admireand 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 andbenevolent dispositions, I persuaded myself that when they shouldbecome acquainted with my admiration of their virtues they wouldcompassionate me and overlook my personal deformity. Could they turnfrom their door one, however monstrous, who solicited their compassionand friendship? I resolved, at least, not to despair, but in every wayto fit myself for an interview with them which would decide my fate. Ipostponed this attempt for some months longer, for the importanceattached to its success inspired me with a dread lest I should fail.Besides, I found that my understanding improved so much with everyday's experience that I was unwilling to commence this undertakinguntil a few more months should have added to my sagacity.

"Several changes, in the meantime, took place in the cottage. Thepresence of Safie diffused happiness among its inhabitants, and I alsofound that a greater degree of plenty reigned there. Felix and Agathaspent more time in amusem*nt and conversation, and were assisted intheir labours by servants. They did not appear rich, but they werecontented and happy; their feelings were serene and peaceful, whilemine became every day more tumultuous. Increase of knowledge onlydiscovered to me more clearly what a wretched outcast I was. Icherished hope, it is true, but it vanished when I beheld my personreflected in water or my shadow in the moonshine, even as that frailimage and that inconstant shade.

"I endeavoured to crush these fears and to fortify myself for the trialwhich in a few months I resolved to undergo; and sometimes I allowed mythoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of Paradise, anddared to fancy amiable and lovely creatures sympathizing with myfeelings and cheering my gloom; their angelic countenances breathedsmiles of consolation. But it was all a dream; no Eve soothed mysorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam'ssupplication 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 decayand fall, and nature again assume the barren and bleak appearance ithad worn when I first beheld the woods and the lovely moon. Yet I didnot heed the bleakness of the weather; I was better fitted by myconformation for the endurance of cold than heat. But my chiefdelights were the sight of the flowers, the birds, and all the gayapparel of summer; when those deserted me, I turned with more attentiontowards the cottagers. Their happiness was not decreased by theabsence of summer. They loved and sympathized with one another; andtheir joys, depending on each other, were not interrupted by thecasualties that took place around them. The more I saw of them, thegreater became my desire to claim their protection and kindness; myheart yearned to be known and loved by these amiable creatures; to seetheir sweet looks directed towards me with affection was the utmostlimit of my ambition. I dared not think that they would turn them fromme with disdain and horror. The poor that stopped at their door werenever driven away. I asked, it is true, for greater treasures than alittle food or rest: I required kindness and sympathy; but I did notbelieve myself utterly unworthy of it.

"The winter advanced, and an entire revolution of the seasons had takenplace since I awoke into life. My attention at this time was solelydirected towards my plan of introducing myself into the cottage of myprotectors. I revolved many projects, but that on which I finallyfixed was to enter the dwelling when the blind old man should be alone.I had sagacity enough to discover that the unnatural hideousness of myperson was the chief object of horror with those who had formerlybeheld me. My voice, although harsh, had nothing terrible in it; Ithought, therefore, that if in the absence of his children I could gainthe good will and mediation of the old De Lacey, I might by his meansbe tolerated by my younger protectors.

"One day, when the sun shone on the red leaves that strewed the groundand diffused cheerfulness, although it denied warmth, Safie, Agatha,and Felix departed on a long country walk, and the old man, at his owndesire, was left alone in the cottage. When his children had departed,he took up his guitar and played several mournful but sweet airs, moresweet and mournful than I had ever heard him play before. At first hiscountenance was illuminated with pleasure, but as he continued,thoughtfulness and sadness succeeded; at length, laying aside theinstrument, he sat absorbed in reflection.

"My heart beat quick; this was the hour and moment of trial, whichwould decide my hopes or realize my fears. The servants were gone to aneighbouring fair. All was silent in and around the cottage; it was anexcellent opportunity; yet, when I proceeded to execute my plan, mylimbs failed me and I sank to the ground. Again I rose, and exertingall the firmness of which I was master, removed the planks which I hadplaced before my hovel to conceal my retreat. The fresh air revivedme, and with renewed determination I approached the door of theircottage.

"I knocked. 'Who is there?' said the old man. 'Come in.'

"I entered. 'Pardon this intrusion,' said I; 'I am a traveller in wantof a little rest; you would greatly oblige me if you would allow me toremain a few minutes before the fire.'

"'Enter,' said De Lacey, 'and I will try in what manner I can torelieve your wants; but, unfortunately, my children are from home, andas I am blind, I am afraid I shall find it difficult to procure foodfor you.'

"'Do not trouble yourself, my kind host; I have food; it is warmth andrest only that I need.'

"I sat down, and a silence ensued. I knew that every minute wasprecious to me, yet I remained irresolute in what manner to commencethe 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 thatlanguage 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 anunfortunate and deserted creature, I look around and I have no relationor friend upon earth. These amiable people to whom I go have neverseen me and know little of me. I am full of fears, for if I failthere, I am an outcast in the world forever.'

"'Do not despair. To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate, butthe hearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self-interest, arefull 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 gooddispositions; my life has been hitherto harmless and in some degreebeneficial; but a fatal prejudice clouds their eyes, and where theyought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestablemonster.'

"'That is indeed unfortunate; but if you are really blameless, cannotyou undeceive them?'

"'I am about to undertake that task; and it is on that account that Ifeel so many overwhelming terrors. I tenderly love these friends; Ihave, unknown to them, been for many months in the habits of dailykindness towards them; but they believe that I wish to injure them, andit 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 unreservedlyconfide to me the particulars of your tale, I perhaps may be of use inundeceiving them. I am blind and cannot judge of your countenance, butthere is something in your words which persuades me that you aresincere. I am poor and an exile, but it will afford me true pleasureto be in any way serviceable to a human creature.'

"'Excellent man! I thank you and accept your generous offer. Youraise 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 fellowcreatures.'

"'Heaven forbid! Even if you were really criminal, for that can onlydrive you to desperation, and not instigate you to virtue. I also amunfortunate; 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 lipsfirst have I heard the voice of kindness directed towards me; I shallbe forever grateful; and your present humanity assures me of successwith 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 torob me of or bestow happiness on me forever. I struggled vainly forfirmness sufficient to answer him, but the effort destroyed all myremaining strength; I sank on the chair and sobbed aloud. At thatmoment I heard the steps of my younger protectors. I had not a momentto lose, but seizing the hand of the old man, I cried, 'Now is thetime! Save and protect me! You and your family are the friends whom Iseek. 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, andAgatha entered. Who can describe their horror and consternation onbeholding me? Agatha fainted, and Safie, unable to attend to herfriend, rushed out of the cottage. Felix darted forward, and withsupernatural force tore me from his father, to whose knees I clung, ina transport of fury, he dashed me to the ground and struck me violentlywith a stick. I could have torn him limb from limb, as the lion rendsthe antelope. But my heart sank within me as with bitter sickness, andI refrained. I saw him on the point of repeating his blow, when,overcome by pain and anguish, I quitted the cottage, and in the generaltumult escaped unperceived to my hovel."

Chapter 16

"Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? Why, in that instant, did Inot extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonlybestowed? I know not; despair had not yet taken possession of me; myfeelings were those of rage and revenge. I could with pleasure havedestroyed the cottage and its inhabitants and have glutted myself withtheir shrieks and misery.

"When night came I quitted my retreat and wandered in the wood; andnow, no longer restrained by the fear of discovery, I gave vent to myanguish in fearful howlings. I was like a wild beast that had brokenthe toils, destroying the objects that obstructed me and rangingthrough the wood with a stag-like swiftness. Oh! What a miserablenight I passed! The cold stars shone in mockery, and the bare treeswaved their branches above me; now and then the sweet voice of a birdburst forth amidst the universal stillness. All, save I, were at restor in enjoyment; I, like the arch-fiend, bore a hell within me, andfinding myself unsympathized with, wished to tear up the trees, spreadhavoc and destruction around me, and then to have sat down and enjoyedthe ruin.

"But this was a luxury of sensation that could not endure; I becamefatigued with excess of bodily exertion and sank on the damp grass inthe sick impotence of despair. There was none among the myriads of menthat existed who would pity or assist me; and should I feel kindnesstowards my enemies? No; from that moment I declared everlasting waragainst the species, and more than all, against him who had formed meand sent me forth to this insupportable misery.

"The sun rose; I heard the voices of men and knew that it wasimpossible to return to my retreat during that day. Accordingly I hidmyself in some thick underwood, determining to devote the ensuing hoursto reflection on my situation.

"The pleasant sunshine and the pure air of day restored me to somedegree of tranquillity; and when I considered what had passed at thecottage, I could not help believing that I had been too hasty in myconclusions. I had certainly acted imprudently. It was apparent thatmy conversation had interested the father in my behalf, and I was afool in having exposed my person to the horror of his children. Iought to have familiarized the old De Lacey to me, and by degrees tohave discovered myself to the rest of his family, when they should havebeen prepared for my approach. But I did not believe my errors to beirretrievable, and after much consideration I resolved to return to thecottage, seek the old man, and by my representations win him to myparty.

"These thoughts calmed me, and in the afternoon I sank into a profoundsleep; but the fever of my blood did not allow me to be visited bypeaceful dreams. The horrible scene of the preceding day was foreveracting before my eyes; the females were flying and the enraged Felixtearing me from his father's feet. I awoke exhausted, and finding thatit was already night, I crept forth from my hiding-place, and went insearch of food.

"When my hunger was appeased, I directed my steps towards thewell-known path that conducted to the cottage. All there was at peace.I crept into my hovel and remained in silent expectation of theaccustomed hour when the family arose. That hour passed, the sunmounted high in the heavens, but the cottagers did not appear. Itrembled violently, apprehending some dreadful misfortune. The insideof the cottage was dark, and I heard no motion; I cannot describe theagony of this suspense.

"Presently two countrymen passed by, but pausing near the cottage, theyentered into conversation, using violent gesticulations; but I did notunderstand what they said, as they spoke the language of the country,which differed from that of my protectors. Soon after, however, Felixapproached with another man; I was surprised, as I knew that he had notquitted the cottage that morning, and waited anxiously to discover fromhis discourse the meaning of these unusual appearances.

"'Do you consider,' said his companion to him, 'that you will beobliged to pay three months' rent and to lose the produce of yourgarden? I do not wish to take any unfair advantage, and I begtherefore that you will take some days to consider of yourdetermination.'

"'It is utterly useless,' replied Felix; 'we can never again inhabityour cottage. The life of my father is in the greatest danger, owingto the dreadful circ*mstance that I have related. My wife and mysister will never recover from their horror. I entreat you not toreason with me any more. Take possession of your tenement and let mefly from this place.'

"Felix trembled violently as he said this. He and his companionentered the cottage, in which they remained for a few minutes, and thendeparted. 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 ofutter and stupid despair. My protectors had departed and had brokenthe only link that held me to the world. For the first time thefeelings of revenge and hatred filled my bosom, and I did not strive tocontrol them, but allowing myself to be borne away by the stream, Ibent 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 theexquisite beauty of the Arabian, these thoughts vanished and a gush oftears somewhat soothed me. But again when I reflected that they hadspurned and deserted me, anger returned, a rage of anger, and unable toinjure anything human, I turned my fury towards inanimate objects. Asnight 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 myoperations.

"As the night advanced, a fierce wind arose from the woods and quicklydispersed the clouds that had loitered in the heavens; the blast torealong like a mighty avalanche and produced a kind of insanity in myspirits that burst all bounds of reason and reflection. I lighted thedry 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 moonnearly touched. A part of its orb was at length hid, and I waved mybrand; 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 thecottage was quickly enveloped by the flames, which clung to it andlicked it with their forked and destroying tongues.

"As soon as I was convinced that no assistance could save any part ofthe 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? Iresolved to fly far from the scene of my misfortunes; but to me, hatedand despised, every country must be equally horrible. At length thethought of you crossed my mind. I learned from your papers that youwere my father, my creator; and to whom could I apply with more fitnessthan to him who had given me life? Among the lessons that Felix hadbestowed upon Safie, geography had not been omitted; I had learned fromthese the relative situations of the different countries of the earth.You had mentioned Geneva as the name of your native town, and towardsthis place I resolved to proceed.

"But how was I to direct myself? I knew that I must travel in asouthwesterly direction to reach my destination, but the sun was myonly guide. I did not know the names of the towns that I was to passthrough, nor could I ask information from a single human being; but Idid not despair. From you only could I hope for succour, althoughtowards you I felt no sentiment but that of hatred. Unfeeling,heartless creator! You had endowed me with perceptions and passionsand 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 Idetermined to seek that justice which I vainly attempted to gain fromany other being that wore the human form.

"My travels were long and the sufferings I endured intense. It waslate in autumn when I quitted the district where I had so long resided.I travelled only at night, fearful of encountering the visage of ahuman being. Nature decayed around me, and the sun became heatless;rain and snow poured around me; mighty rivers were frozen; the surfaceof 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! Themildness of my nature had fled, and all within me was turned to galland bitterness. The nearer I approached to your habitation, the moredeeply did I feel the spirit of revenge enkindled in my heart. Snowfell, and the waters were hardened, but I rested not. A few incidentsnow and then directed me, and I possessed a map of the country; but Ioften wandered wide from my path. The agony of my feelings allowed meno respite; no incident occurred from which my rage and misery couldnot extract its food; but a circ*mstance that happened when I arrivedon the confines of Switzerland, when the sun had recovered its warmthand the earth again began to look green, confirmed in an especialmanner the bitterness and horror of my feelings.

"I generally rested during the day and travelled only when I wassecured by night from the view of man. One morning, however, findingthat my path lay through a deep wood, I ventured to continue my journeyafter 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 ofthe air. I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure, that had longappeared dead, revive within me. Half surprised by the novelty ofthese sensations, I allowed myself to be borne away by them, andforgetting my solitude and deformity, dared to be happy. Soft tearsagain bedewed my cheeks, and I even raised my humid eyes withthankfulness towards the blessed sun, which bestowed such joy upon me.

"I continued to wind among the paths of the wood, until I came to itsboundary, which was skirted by a deep and rapid river, into which manyof the trees bent their branches, now budding with the fresh spring.Here I paused, not exactly knowing what path to pursue, when I heardthe sound of voices, that induced me to conceal myself under the shadeof a cypress. I was scarcely hid when a young girl came runningtowards the spot where I was concealed, laughing, as if she ran fromsomeone in sport. She continued her course along the precipitous sidesof the river, when suddenly her foot slipped, and she fell into therapid stream. I rushed from my hiding-place and with extreme labour,from the force of the current, saved her and dragged her to shore. Shewas senseless, and I endeavoured by every means in my power to restoreanimation, when I was suddenly interrupted by the approach of a rustic,who was probably the person from whom she had playfully fled. Onseeing me, he darted towards me, and tearing the girl from my arms,hastened towards the deeper parts of the wood. I followed speedily, Ihardly 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 myinjurer, with increased swiftness, escaped into the wood.

"This was then the reward of my benevolence! I had saved a human beingfrom destruction, and as a recompense I now writhed under the miserablepain of a wound which shattered the flesh and bone. The feelings ofkindness and gentleness which I had entertained but a few momentsbefore gave place to hellish rage and gnashing of teeth. Inflamed bypain, I vowed eternal hatred and vengeance to all mankind. But theagony of my wound overcame me; my pulses paused, and I fainted.

"For some weeks I led a miserable life in the woods, endeavouring tocure 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 anyrate I had no means of extracting it. My sufferings were augmentedalso by the oppressive sense of the injustice and ingratitude of theirinfliction. My daily vows rose for revenge—a deep and deadly revenge,such as would alone compensate for the outrages and anguish I hadendured.

"After some weeks my wound healed, and I continued my journey. Thelabours I endured were no longer to be alleviated by the bright sun orgentle breezes of spring; all joy was but a mockery which insulted mydesolate state and made me feel more painfully that I was not made forthe enjoyment of pleasure.

"But my toils now drew near a close, and in two months from this time Ireached the environs of Geneva.

"It was evening when I arrived, and I retired to a hiding-place amongthe fields that surround it to meditate in what manner I should applyto you. I was oppressed by fatigue and hunger and far too unhappy toenjoy the gentle breezes of evening or the prospect of the sun settingbehind 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 camerunning into the recess I had chosen, with all the sportiveness ofinfancy. Suddenly, as I gazed on him, an idea seized me that thislittle creature was unprejudiced and had lived too short a time to haveimbibed a horror of deformity. If, therefore, I could seize him andeducate him as my companion and friend, I should not be so desolate inthis peopled earth.

"Urged by this impulse, I seized on the boy as he passed and drew himtowards me. As soon as he beheld my form, he placed his hands beforehis eyes and uttered a shrill scream; I drew his hand forcibly from hisface and said, 'Child, what is the meaning of this? I do not intend tohurt you; listen to me.'

"He struggled violently. 'Let me go,' he cried; 'monster! Uglywretch! 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 havesworn eternal revenge; you shall be my first victim.'

"The child still struggled and loaded me with epithets which carrieddespair to my heart; I grasped his throat to silence him, and in amoment he lay dead at my feet.

"I gazed on my victim, and my heart swelled with exultation and hellishtriumph; clapping my hands, I exclaimed, 'I too can create desolation;my enemy is not invulnerable; this death will carry despair to him, anda thousand other miseries shall torment and destroy him.'

"As I fixed my eyes on the child, I saw something glittering on hisbreast. I took it; it was a portrait of a most lovely woman. In spiteof my malignity, it softened and attracted me. For a few moments Igazed with delight on her dark eyes, fringed by deep lashes, and herlovely lips; but presently my rage returned; I remembered that I wasforever deprived of the delights that such beautiful creatures couldbestow and that she whose resemblance I contemplated would, inregarding me, have changed that air of divine benignity to oneexpressive of disgust and affright.

"Can you wonder that such thoughts transported me with rage? I onlywonder that at that moment, instead of venting my sensations inexclamations and agony, I did not rush among mankind and perish in theattempt to destroy them.

"While I was overcome by these feelings, I left the spot where I hadcommitted the murder, and seeking a more secluded hiding-place, Ientered a barn which had appeared to me to be empty. A woman wassleeping on some straw; she was young, not indeed so beautiful as herwhose portrait I held, but of an agreeable aspect and blooming in theloveliness of youth and health. Here, I thought, is one of those whosejoy-imparting smiles are bestowed on all but me. And then I bent overher and whispered, 'Awake, fairest, thy lover is near—he who wouldgive his life but to obtain one look of affection from thine eyes; mybeloved, awake!'

"The sleeper stirred; a thrill of terror ran through me. Should sheindeed awake, and see me, and curse me, and denounce the murderer? Thuswould she assuredly act if her darkened eyes opened and she beheld me.The thought was madness; it stirred the fiend within me—not I, butshe, shall suffer; the murder I have committed because I am foreverrobbed of all that she could give me, she shall atone. The crime hadits source in her; be hers the punishment! Thanks to the lessons ofFelix and the sanguinary laws of man, I had learned now to workmischief. I bent over her and placed the portrait securely in one ofthe 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 andits miseries forever. At length I wandered towards these mountains,and have ranged through their immense recesses, consumed by a burningpassion which you alone can gratify. We may not part until you havepromised to comply with my requisition. I am alone and miserable; manwill not associate with me; but one as deformed and horrible as myselfwould not deny herself to me. My companion must be of the same speciesand have the same defects. This being you must create."

Chapter 17

The being finished speaking and fixed his looks upon me in theexpectation of a reply. But I was bewildered, perplexed, and unable toarrange my ideas sufficiently to understand the full extent of hisproposition. He continued,

"You must create a female for me with whom I can live in theinterchange of those sympathies necessary for my being. This you alonecan do, and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse toconcede."

The latter part of his tale had kindled anew in me the anger that haddied away while he narrated his peaceful life among the cottagers, andas he said this I could no longer suppress the rage that burned withinme.

"I do refuse it," I replied; "and no torture shall ever extort aconsent from me. You may render me the most miserable of men, but youshall never make me base in my own eyes. Shall I create another likeyourself, whose joint wickedness might desolate the world. Begone! Ihave 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 ammiserable. Am I not shunned and hated by all mankind? You, mycreator, would tear me to pieces and triumph; remember that, and tellme why I should pity man more than he pities me? You would not call itmurder if you could precipitate me into one of those ice-rifts anddestroy my frame, the work of your own hands. Shall I respect man whenhe condemns me? Let him live with me in the interchange of kindness,and instead of injury I would bestow every benefit upon him with tearsof gratitude at his acceptance. But that cannot be; the human sensesare insurmountable barriers to our union. Yet mine shall not be thesubmission of abject slavery. I will revenge my injuries; if I cannotinspire love, I will cause fear, and chiefly towards you my arch-enemy,because my creator, do I swear inextinguishable hatred. Have a care; Iwill 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 wrinkledinto contortions too horrible for human eyes to behold; but presentlyhe calmed himself and proceeded—

"I intended to reason. This passion is detrimental to me, for you donot reflect that YOU are the cause of its excess. If any being feltemotions of benevolence towards me, I should return them a hundred anda hundredfold; for that one creature's sake I would make peace with thewhole kind! But I now indulge in dreams of bliss that cannot berealized. What I ask of you is reasonable and moderate; I demand acreature of another sex, but as hideous as myself; the gratification issmall, but it is all that I can receive, and it shall content me. Itis true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on thataccount we shall be more attached to one another. Our lives will notbe happy, but they will be harmless and free from the misery I nowfeel. Oh! My creator, make me happy; let me feel gratitude towardsyou for one benefit! Let me see that I excite the sympathy of someexisting thing; do not deny me my request!"

I was moved. I shuddered when I thought of the possible consequencesof 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 creatureof fine sensations, and did I not as his maker owe him all the portionof happiness that it was in my power to bestow? He saw my change offeeling and continued,

"If you consent, neither you nor any other human being shall ever seeus again; I will go to the vast wilds of South America. My food is notthat of man; I do not destroy the lamb and the kid to glut my appetite;acorns and berries afford me sufficient nourishment. My companion willbe 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 onman and will ripen our food. The picture I present to you is peacefuland human, and you must feel that you could deny it only in thewantonness of power and cruelty. Pitiless as you have been towards me,I now see compassion in your eyes; let me seize the favourable momentand persuade you to promise what I so ardently desire."

"You propose," replied I, "to fly from the habitations of man, to dwellin those wilds where the beasts of the field will be your onlycompanions. How can you, who long for the love and sympathy of man,persevere in this exile? You will return and again seek theirkindness, and you will meet with their detestation; your evil passionswill be renewed, and you will then have a companion to aid you in thetask of destruction. This may not be; cease to argue the point, for Icannot consent."

"How inconstant are your feelings! But a moment ago you were moved bymy representations, and why do you again harden yourself to mycomplaints? I swear to you, by the earth which I inhabit, and by youthat made me, that with the companion you bestow I will quit theneighbourhood of man and dwell, as it may chance, in the most savage ofplaces. My evil passions will have fled, for I shall meet withsympathy! My life will flow quietly away, and in my dying moments Ishall not curse my maker."

His words had a strange effect upon me. I compassionated him andsometimes felt a wish to console him, but when I looked upon him, whenI saw the filthy mass that moved and talked, my heart sickened and myfeelings were altered to those of horror and hatred. I tried to stiflethese sensations; I thought that as I could not sympathize with him, Ihad no right to withhold from him the small portion of happiness whichwas yet in my power to bestow.

"You swear," I said, "to be harmless; but have you not already shown adegree of malice that should reasonably make me distrust you? May noteven this be a feint that will increase your triumph by affording awider scope for your revenge?"

"How is this? I must not be trifled with, and I demand an answer. IfI 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 shallbecome a thing of whose existence everyone will be ignorant. My vicesare the children of a forced solitude that I abhor, and my virtues willnecessarily arise when I live in communion with an equal. I shall feelthe affections of a sensitive being and become linked to the chain ofexistence and events from which I am now excluded."

I paused some time to reflect on all he had related and the variousarguments which he had employed. I thought of the promise of virtueswhich he had displayed on the opening of his existence and thesubsequent blight of all kindly feeling by the loathing and scorn whichhis protectors had manifested towards him. His power and threats werenot omitted in my calculations; a creature who could exist in the icecaves of the glaciers and hide himself from pursuit among the ridges ofinaccessible precipices was a being possessing faculties it would bevain to cope with. After a long pause of reflection I concluded thatthe justice due both to him and my fellow creatures demanded of me thatI should comply with his request. Turning to him, therefore, I said,

"I consent to your demand, on your solemn oath to quit Europe forever,and every other place in the neighbourhood of man, as soon as I shalldeliver 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 bythe 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 homeand commence your labours; I shall watch their progress withunutterable anxiety; and fear not but that when you are ready I shallappear."

Saying this, he suddenly quitted me, fearful, perhaps, of any change inmy sentiments. I saw him descend the mountain with greater speed thanthe flight of an eagle, and quickly lost among the undulations of thesea of ice.

His tale had occupied the whole day, and the sun was upon the verge ofthe horizon when he departed. I knew that I ought to hasten my descenttowards the valley, as I should soon be encompassed in darkness; but myheart was heavy, and my steps slow. The labour of winding among thelittle paths of the mountain and fixing my feet firmly as I advancedperplexed me, occupied as I was by the emotions which the occurrencesof the day had produced. Night was far advanced when I came to thehalfway resting-place and seated myself beside the fountain. The starsshone at intervals as the clouds passed from over them; the dark pinesrose before me, and every here and there a broken tree lay on theground; it was a scene of wonderful solemnity and stirred strangethoughts within me. I wept bitterly, and clasping my hands in agony, Iexclaimed, "Oh! Stars and clouds and winds, ye are all about to mockme; if ye really pity me, crush sensation and memory; let me become asnought; but if not, depart, depart, and leave me in darkness."

These were wild and miserable thoughts, but I cannot describe to youhow the eternal twinkling of the stars weighed upon me and how Ilistened to every blast of wind as if it were a dull ugly siroc on itsway to consume me.

Morning dawned before I arrived at the village of Chamounix; I took norest, but returned immediately to Geneva. Even in my own heart I couldgive no expression to my sensations—they weighed on me with amountain's weight and their excess destroyed my agony beneath them.Thus I returned home, and entering the house, presented myself to thefamily. My haggard and wild appearance awoke intense alarm, but Ianswered no question, scarcely did I speak. I felt as if I were placedunder a ban—as if I had no right to claim their sympathies—as ifnever more might I enjoy companionship with them. Yet even thus Iloved them to adoration; and to save them, I resolved to dedicatemyself to my most abhorred task. The prospect of such an occupationmade every other circ*mstance 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; andI could not collect the courage to recommence my work. I feared thevengeance of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to overcome myrepugnance to the task which was enjoined me. I found that I could notcompose a female without again devoting several months to profoundstudy and laborious disquisition. I had heard of some discoverieshaving been made by an English philosopher, the knowledge of which wasmaterial to my success, and I sometimes thought of obtaining myfather's consent to visit England for this purpose; but I clung toevery pretence of delay and shrank from taking the first step in anundertaking whose immediate necessity began to appear less absolute tome. A change indeed had taken place in me; my health, which hadhitherto declined, was now much restored; and my spirits, whenunchecked by the memory of my unhappy promise, rose proportionably. Myfather saw this change with pleasure, and he turned his thoughtstowards the best method of eradicating the remains of my melancholy,which every now and then would return by fits, and with a devouringblackness overcast the approaching sunshine. At these moments I tookrefuge in the most perfect solitude. I passed whole days on the lakealone in a little boat, watching the clouds and listening to therippling of the waves, silent and listless. But the fresh air andbright sun seldom failed to restore me to some degree of composure, andon my return I met the salutations of my friends with a readier smileand 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 formerpleasures and seem to be returning to yourself. And yet you are stillunhappy and still avoid our society. For some time I was lost inconjecture 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 apoint would be not only useless, but draw down treble misery on us all."

I trembled violently at his exordium, and my father continued—"Iconfess, my son, that I have always looked forward to your marriagewith our dear Elizabeth as the tie of our domestic comfort and the stayof my declining years. You were attached to each other from yourearliest infancy; you studied together, and appeared, in dispositionsand tastes, entirely suited to one another. But so blind is theexperience of man that what I conceived to be the best assistants to myplan may have entirely destroyed it. You, perhaps, regard her as yoursister, without any wish that she might become your wife. Nay, you mayhave met with another whom you may love; and considering yourself asbound in honour to Elizabeth, this struggle may occasion the poignantmisery which you appear to feel."

"My dear father, reassure yourself. I love my cousin tenderly andsincerely. I never saw any woman who excited, as Elizabeth does, mywarmest admiration and affection. My future hopes and prospects areentirely 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 youfeel thus, we shall assuredly be happy, however present events may casta gloom over us. But it is this gloom which appears to have taken sostrong a hold of your mind that I wish to dissipate. Tell me,therefore, whether you object to an immediate solemnization of themarriage. We have been unfortunate, and recent events have drawn usfrom that everyday tranquillity befitting my years and infirmities. Youare younger; yet I do not suppose, possessed as you are of a competentfortune, that an early marriage would at all interfere with any futureplans 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 onyour part would cause me any serious uneasiness. Interpret my wordswith candour and answer me, I conjure you, with confidence andsincerity."

I listened to my father in silence and remained for some time incapableof offering any reply. I revolved rapidly in my mind a multitude ofthoughts and endeavoured to arrive at some conclusion. Alas! To methe idea of an immediate union with my Elizabeth was one of horror anddismay. I was bound by a solemn promise which I had not yet fulfilledand dared not break, or if I did, what manifold miseries might notimpend over me and my devoted family! Could I enter into a festivalwith this deadly weight yet hanging round my neck and bowing me to theground? I must perform my engagement and let the monster depart withhis mate before I allowed myself to enjoy the delight of a union fromwhich I expected peace.

I remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying toEngland or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophersof that country whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensableuse to me in my present undertaking. The latter method of obtainingthe desired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory; besides, Ihad an insurmountable aversion to the idea of engaging myself in myloathsome task in my father's house while in habits of familiarintercourse with those I loved. I knew that a thousand fearfulaccidents might occur, the slightest of which would disclose a tale tothrill all connected with me with horror. I was aware also that Ishould often lose all self-command, all capacity of hiding theharrowing sensations that would possess me during the progress of myunearthly occupation. I must absent myself from all I loved while thusemployed. Once commenced, it would quickly be achieved, and I might berestored to my family in peace and happiness. My promise fulfilled,the monster would depart forever. Or (so my fond fancy imaged) someaccident might meanwhile occur to destroy him and put an end to myslavery forever.

These feelings dictated my answer to my father. I expressed a wish tovisit England, but concealing the true reasons of this request, Iclothed my desires under a guise which excited no suspicion, while Iurged my desire with an earnestness that easily induced my father tocomply. After so long a period of an absorbing melancholy thatresembled madness in its intensity and effects, he was glad to findthat I was capable of taking pleasure in the idea of such a journey,and he hoped that change of scene and varied amusem*nt would, before myreturn, have restored me entirely to myself.

The duration of my absence was left to my own choice; a few months, orat most a year, was the period contemplated. One paternal kindprecaution he had taken to ensure my having a companion. Withoutpreviously communicating with me, he had, in concert with Elizabeth,arranged that Clerval should join me at Strasbourg. This interferedwith the solitude I coveted for the prosecution of my task; yet at thecommencement of my journey the presence of my friend could in no way bean impediment, and truly I rejoiced that thus I should be saved manyhours of lonely, maddening reflection. Nay, Henry might stand betweenme and the intrusion of my foe. If I were alone, would he not at timesforce his abhorred presence on me to remind me of my task or tocontemplate its progress?

To England, therefore, I was bound, and it was understood that my unionwith Elizabeth should take place immediately on my return. My father'sage rendered him extremely averse to delay. For myself, there was onereward I promised myself from my detested toils—one consolation for myunparalleled sufferings; it was the prospect of that day when,enfranchised from my miserable slavery, I might claim Elizabeth andforget the past in my union with her.

I now made arrangements for my journey, but one feeling haunted mewhich filled me with fear and agitation. During my absence I shouldleave my friends unconscious of the existence of their enemy andunprotected from his attacks, exasperated as he might be by mydeparture. But he had promised to follow me wherever I might go, andwould he not accompany me to England? This imagination was dreadful initself, but soothing inasmuch as it supposed the safety of my friends.I was agonized with the idea of the possibility that the reverse ofthis might happen. But through the whole period during which I was theslave of my creature I allowed myself to be governed by the impulses ofthe moment; and my present sensations strongly intimated that the fiendwould follow me and exempt my family from the danger of hismachinations.

It was in the latter end of September that I again quitted my nativecountry. My journey had been my own suggestion, and Elizabeththerefore acquiesced, but she was filled with disquiet at the idea ofmy suffering, away from her, the inroads of misery and grief. It hadbeen her care which provided me a companion in Clerval—and yet a manis blind to a thousand minute circ*mstances which call forth a woman'ssedulous attention. She longed to bid me hasten my return; a thousandconflicting emotions rendered her mute as she bade me a tearful, silentfarewell.

I threw myself into the carriage that was to convey me away, hardlyknowing whither I was going, and careless of what was passing around.I remembered only, and it was with a bitter anguish that I reflected onit, to order that my chemical instruments should be packed to go withme. Filled with dreary imaginations, I passed through many beautifuland majestic scenes, but my eyes were fixed and unobserving. I couldonly think of the bourne of my travels and the work which was to occupyme whilst they endured.

After some days spent in listless indolence, during which I traversedmany leagues, I arrived at Strasbourg, where I waited two days forClerval. He came. Alas, how great was the contrast between us! Hewas alive to every new scene, joyful when he saw the beauties of thesetting sun, and more happy when he beheld it rise and recommence a newday. He pointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape andthe appearances of the sky. "This is what it is to live," he cried;"how I enjoy existence! But you, my dear Frankenstein, wherefore areyou desponding and sorrowful!" In truth, I was occupied by gloomythoughts and neither saw the descent of the evening star nor the goldensunrise reflected in the Rhine. And you, my friend, would be far moreamused with the journal of Clerval, who observed the scenery with aneye of feeling and delight, than in listening to my reflections. I, amiserable wretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue toenjoyment.

We had agreed to descend the Rhine in a boat from Strasbourg toRotterdam, whence we might take shipping for London. During thisvoyage we passed many willowy islands and saw several beautiful towns.We stayed a day at Mannheim, and on the fifth from our departure fromStrasbourg, arrived at Mainz. The course of the Rhine below Mainzbecomes much more picturesque. The river descends rapidly and windsbetween hills, not high, but steep, and of beautiful forms. We sawmany ruined castles standing on the edges of precipices, surrounded byblack woods, high and inaccessible. This part of the Rhine, indeed,presents a singularly variegated landscape. In one spot you viewrugged hills, ruined castles overlooking tremendous precipices, withthe dark Rhine rushing beneath; and on the sudden turn of a promontory,flourishing vineyards with green sloping banks and a meandering riverand populous towns occupy the scene.

We travelled at the time of the vintage and heard the song of thelabourers as we glided down the stream. Even I, depressed in mind, andmy 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 bluesky, I seemed to drink in a tranquillity to which I had long been astranger. And if these were my sensations, who can describe those ofHenry? He felt as if he had been transported to fairy-land and enjoyeda happiness seldom tasted by man. "I have seen," he said, "the mostbeautiful scenes of my own country; I have visited the lakes of Lucerneand Uri, where the snowy mountains descend almost perpendicularly tothe water, casting black and impenetrable shades, which would cause agloomy and mournful appearance were it not for the most verdant islandsthat believe the eye by their gay appearance; I have seen this lakeagitated by a tempest, when the wind tore up whirlwinds of water andgave 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 priestand his mistress were overwhelmed by an avalanche and where their dyingvoices 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 thiscountry, Victor, pleases me more than all those wonders. The mountainsof Switzerland are more majestic and strange, but there is a charm inthe banks of this divine river that I never before saw equalled. Lookat that castle which overhangs yon precipice; and that also on theisland, almost concealed amongst the foliage of those lovely trees; andnow that group of labourers coming from among their vines; and thatvillage half hid in the recess of the mountain. Oh, surely the spiritthat inhabits and guards this place has a soul more in harmony with manthan those who pile the glacier or retire to the inaccessible peaks ofthe mountains of our own country." Clerval! Beloved friend! Even nowit delights me to record your words and to dwell on the praise of whichyou are so eminently deserving. He was a being formed in the "verypoetry of nature." His wild and enthusiastic imagination was chastenedby the sensibility of his heart. His soul overflowed with ardentaffections, and his friendship was of that devoted and wondrous naturethat the world-minded teach us to look for only in the imagination. Buteven human sympathies were not sufficient to satisfy his eager mind.The scenery of external nature, which others regard only withadmiration, he loved with ardour:—

And where does he now exist? Is this gentle and lovely being lostforever? Has this mind, so replete with ideas, imaginations fancifuland magnificent, which formed a world, whose existence depended on thelife of its creator;—has this mind perished? Does it now only existin my memory? No, it is not thus; your form so divinely wrought, andbeaming with beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits andconsoles your unhappy friend.

Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slighttribute to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart,overflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates. I willproceed with my tale.

Beyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolvedto post the remainder of our way, for the wind was contrary and thestream of the river was too gentle to aid us. Our journey here lostthe interest arising from beautiful scenery, but we arrived in a fewdays at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea to England. It was on aclear morning, in the latter days of December, that I first saw thewhite cliffs of Britain. The banks of the Thames presented a newscene; they were flat but fertile, and almost every town was marked bythe remembrance of some story. We saw Tilbury Fort and remembered theSpanish Armada, Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich—places which I hadheard of even in my country.

At length we saw the numerous steeples of London, St. Paul's toweringabove all, and the Tower famed in English history.

Chapter 19

London was our present point of rest; we determined to remain severalmonths in this wonderful and celebrated city. Clerval desired theintercourse of the men of genius and talent who flourished at thistime, but this was with me a secondary object; I was principallyoccupied with the means of obtaining the information necessary for thecompletion of my promise and quickly availed myself of the letters ofintroduction that I had brought with me, addressed to the mostdistinguished 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 hadcome over my existence, and I only visited these people for the sake ofthe information they might give me on the subject in which my interestwas so terribly profound. Company was irksome to me; when alone, Icould fill my mind with the sights of heaven and earth; the voice ofHenry soothed me, and I could thus cheat myself into a transitorypeace. But busy, uninteresting, joyous faces brought back despair tomy heart. I saw an insurmountable barrier placed between me and myfellow men; this barrier was sealed with the blood of William andJustine, and to reflect on the events connected with those names filledmy soul with anguish.

But in Clerval I saw the image of my former self; he was inquisitiveand anxious to gain experience and instruction. The difference ofmanners which he observed was to him an inexhaustible source ofinstruction and amusem*nt. He was also pursuing an object he had longhad in view. His design was to visit India, in the belief that he hadin his knowledge of its various languages, and in the views he hadtaken of its society, the means of materially assisting the progress ofEuropean colonization and trade. In Britain only could he further theexecution of his plan. He was forever busy, and the only check to hisenjoyments was my sorrowful and dejected mind. I tried to conceal thisas much as possible, that I might not debar him from the pleasuresnatural to one who was entering on a new scene of life, undisturbed byany care or bitter recollection. I often refused to accompany him,alleging another engagement, that I might remain alone. I now alsobegan to collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and thiswas to me like the torture of single drops of water continually fallingon the head. Every thought that was devoted to it was an extremeanguish, and every word that I spoke in allusion to it caused my lipsto quiver, and my heart to palpitate.

After passing some months in London, we received a letter from a personin Scotland who had formerly been our visitor at Geneva. He mentionedthe beauties of his native country and asked us if those were notsufficient allurements to induce us to prolong our journey as far northas Perth, where he resided. Clerval eagerly desired to accept thisinvitation, and I, although I abhorred society, wished to view againmountains and streams and all the wondrous works with which Natureadorns her chosen dwelling-places. We had arrived in England at thebeginning of October, and it was now February. We accordinglydetermined to commence our journey towards the north at the expirationof another month. In this expedition we did not intend to follow thegreat road to Edinburgh, but to visit Windsor, Oxford, Matlock, and theCumberland lakes, resolving to arrive at the completion of this tourabout the end of July. I packed up my chemical instruments and thematerials I had collected, resolving to finish my labours in someobscure nook in the northern highlands of Scotland.

We quitted London on the 27th of March and remained a few days atWindsor, rambling in its beautiful forest. This was a new scene to usmountaineers; the majestic oaks, the quantity of game, and the herds ofstately deer were all novelties to us.

From thence we proceeded to Oxford. As we entered this city our mindswere filled with the remembrance of the events that had been transactedthere more than a century and a half before. It was here that CharlesI. had collected his forces. This city had remained faithful to him,after the whole nation had forsaken his cause to join the standard ofParliament and liberty. The memory of that unfortunate king and hiscompanions, the amiable Falkland, the insolent Goring, his queen, andson, gave a peculiar interest to every part of the city which theymight be supposed to have inhabited. The spirit of elder days found adwelling here, and we delighted to trace its footsteps. If thesefeelings had not found an imaginary gratification, the appearance ofthe city had yet in itself sufficient beauty to obtain our admiration.The colleges are ancient and picturesque; the streets are almostmagnificent; and the lovely Isis, which flows beside it through meadowsof exquisite verdure, is spread forth into a placid expanse of waters,which reflects its majestic assemblage of towers, and spires, anddomes, embosomed among aged trees.

I enjoyed this scene, and yet my enjoyment was embittered both by thememory of the past and the anticipation of the future. I was formedfor peaceful happiness. During my youthful days discontent nevervisited my mind, and if I was ever overcome by ennui, the sight of whatis beautiful in nature or the study of what is excellent and sublime inthe productions of man could always interest my heart and communicateelasticity to my spirits. But I am a blasted tree; the bolt hasentered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit whatI 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 environsand endeavouring to identify every spot which might relate to the mostanimating epoch of English history. Our little voyages of discoverywere often prolonged by the successive objects that presentedthemselves. We visited the tomb of the illustrious Hampden and thefield on which that patriot fell. For a moment my soul was elevatedfrom its debasing and miserable fears to contemplate the divine ideasof liberty and self sacrifice of which these sights were the monumentsand the remembrancers. For an instant I dared to shake off my chainsand look around me with a free and lofty spirit, but the iron had eateninto my flesh, and I sank again, trembling and hopeless, into mymiserable self.

We left Oxford with regret and proceeded to Matlock, which was our nextplace of rest. The country in the neighbourhood of this villageresembled, to a greater degree, the scenery of Switzerland; buteverything is on a lower scale, and the green hills want the crown ofdistant white Alps which always attend on the piny mountains of mynative country. We visited the wondrous cave and the little cabinetsof natural history, where the curiosities are disposed in the samemanner as in the collections at Servox and Chamounix. The latter namemade me tremble when pronounced by Henry, and I hastened to quitMatlock, with which that terrible scene was thus associated.

From Derby, still journeying northwards, we passed two months inCumberland and Westmorland. I could now almost fancy myself among theSwiss mountains. The little patches of snow which yet lingered on thenorthern sides of the mountains, the lakes, and the dashing of therocky streams were all familiar and dear sights to me. Here also wemade some acquaintances, who almost contrived to cheat me intohappiness. The delight of Clerval was proportionably greater thanmine; his mind expanded in the company of men of talent, and he foundin his own nature greater capacities and resources than he could haveimagined himself to have possessed while he associated with hisinferiors. "I could pass my life here," said he to me; "and amongthese mountains I should scarcely regret Switzerland and the Rhine."

But he found that a traveller's life is one that includes much painamidst its enjoyments. His feelings are forever on the stretch; andwhen he begins to sink into repose, he finds himself obliged to quitthat on which he rests in pleasure for something new, which againengages his attention, and which also he forsakes for other novelties.

We had scarcely visited the various lakes of Cumberland and Westmorlandand conceived an affection for some of the inhabitants when the periodof our appointment with our Scotch friend approached, and we left themto travel on. For my own part I was not sorry. I had now neglected mypromise for some time, and I feared the effects of the daemon'sdisappointment. He might remain in Switzerland and wreak his vengeanceon my relatives. This idea pursued me and tormented me at every momentfrom which I might otherwise have snatched repose and peace. I waitedfor my letters with feverish impatience; if they were delayed I wasmiserable and overcome by a thousand fears; and when they arrived and Isaw the superscription of Elizabeth or my father, I hardly dared toread and ascertain my fate. Sometimes I thought that the fiendfollowed 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 ofhis destroyer. I felt as if I had committed some great crime, theconsciousness of which haunted me. I was guiltless, but I had indeeddrawn 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 mighthave interested the most unfortunate being. Clerval did not like it sowell as Oxford, for the antiquity of the latter city was more pleasingto 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 compensatedhim for the change and filled him with cheerfulness and admiration. ButI was impatient to arrive at the termination of my journey.

We left Edinburgh in a week, passing through Coupar, St. Andrew's, andalong 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 intotheir feelings or plans with the good humour expected from a guest; andaccordingly I told Clerval that I wished to make the tour of Scotlandalone. "Do you," said I, "enjoy yourself, and let this be ourrendezvous. I may be absent a month or two; but do not interfere withmy motions, I entreat you; leave me to peace and solitude for a shorttime; and when I return, I hope it will be with a lighter heart, morecongenial to your own temper."

Henry wished to dissuade me, but seeing me bent on this plan, ceased toremonstrate. He entreated me to write often. "I had rather be withyou," he said, "in your solitary rambles, than with these Scotchpeople, 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 inyour absence."

Having parted from my friend, I determined to visit some remote spot ofScotland and finish my work in solitude. I did not doubt but that themonster followed me and would discover himself to me when I should havefinished, that he might receive his companion. With this resolution Itraversed the northern highlands and fixed on one of the remotest ofthe Orkneys as the scene of my labours. It was a place fitted for sucha work, being hardly more than a rock whose high sides were continuallybeaten upon by the waves. The soil was barren, scarcely affordingpasture for a few miserable cows, and oatmeal for its inhabitants,which consisted of five persons, whose gaunt and scraggy limbs gavetokens of their miserable fare. Vegetables and bread, when theyindulged in such luxuries, and even fresh water, was to be procuredfrom the mainland, which was about five miles distant.

On the whole island there were but three miserable huts, and one ofthese was vacant when I arrived. This I hired. It contained but tworooms, and these exhibited all the squalidness of the most miserablepenury. The thatch had fallen in, the walls were unplastered, and thedoor was off its hinges. I ordered it to be repaired, bought somefurniture, and took possession, an incident which would doubtless haveoccasioned some surprise had not all the senses of the cottagers beenbenumbed by want and squalid poverty. As it was, I lived ungazed atand unmolested, hardly thanked for the pittance of food and clotheswhich I gave, so much does suffering blunt even the coarsest sensationsof 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 tolisten to the waves as they roared and dashed at my feet. It was amonotonous yet ever-changing scene. I thought of Switzerland; it wasfar different from this desolate and appalling landscape. Its hillsare covered with vines, and its cottages are scattered thickly in theplains. Its fair lakes reflect a blue and gentle sky, and whentroubled by the winds, their tumult is but as the play of a livelyinfant when compared to the roarings of the giant ocean.

In this manner I distributed my occupations when I first arrived, butas I proceeded in my labour, it became every day more horrible andirksome to me. Sometimes I could not prevail on myself to enter mylaboratory for several days, and at other times I toiled day and nightin order to complete my work. It was, indeed, a filthy process inwhich I was engaged. During my first experiment, a kind ofenthusiastic frenzy had blinded me to the horror of my employment; mymind was intently fixed on the consummation of my labour, and my eyeswere shut to the horror of my proceedings. But now I went to it incold blood, and my heart often sickened at the work of my hands.

Thus situated, employed in the most detestable occupation, immersed ina solitude where nothing could for an instant call my attention fromthe actual scene in which I was engaged, my spirits became unequal; Igrew restless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet mypersecutor. Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearingto raise them lest they should encounter the object which I so muchdreaded to behold. I feared to wander from the sight of my fellowcreatures lest when alone he should come to claim his companion.

In the mean time I worked on, and my labour was already considerablyadvanced. I looked towards its completion with a tremulous and eagerhope, which I dared not trust myself to question but which wasintermixed with obscure forebodings of evil that made my heart sickenin my bosom.

Chapter 20

I sat one evening in my laboratory; the sun had set, and the moon wasjust rising from the sea; I had not sufficient light for my employment,and I remained idle, in a pause of consideration of whether I shouldleave my labour for the night or hasten its conclusion by anunremitting attention to it. As I sat, a train of reflection occurredto 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 afiend whose unparalleled barbarity had desolated my heart and filled itforever with the bitterest remorse. I was now about to form anotherbeing of whose dispositions I was alike ignorant; she might become tenthousand times more malignant than her mate and delight, for its ownsake, in murder and wretchedness. He had sworn to quit theneighbourhood of man and hide himself in deserts, but she had not; andshe, who in all probability was to become a thinking and reasoninganimal, might refuse to comply with a compact made before her creation.They might even hate each other; the creature who already lived loathedhis own deformity, and might he not conceive a greater abhorrence forit when it came before his eyes in the female form? She also mightturn with disgust from him to the superior beauty of man; she mightquit him, and he be again alone, exasperated by the fresh provocationof being deserted by one of his own species. Even if they were toleave Europe and inhabit the deserts of the new world, yet one of thefirst results of those sympathies for which the daemon thirsted wouldbe children, and a race of devils would be propagated upon the earthwho might make the very existence of the species of man a conditionprecarious and full of terror. Had I right, for my own benefit, toinflict this curse upon everlasting generations? I had before beenmoved by the sophisms of the being I had created; I had been strucksenseless by his fiendish threats; but now, for the first time, thewickedness of my promise burst upon me; I shuddered to think thatfuture ages might curse me as their pest, whose selfishness had nothesitated to buy its own peace at the price, perhaps, of the existenceof the whole human race.

I trembled and my heart failed within me, when, on looking up, I saw bythe light of the moon the daemon at the casem*nt. A ghastly grinwrinkled his lips as he gazed on me, where I sat fulfilling the taskwhich he had allotted to me. Yes, he had followed me in my travels; hehad loitered in forests, hid himself in caves, or taken refuge in wideand desert heaths; and he now came to mark my progress and claim thefulfilment of my promise.

As I looked on him, his countenance expressed the utmost extent ofmalice and treachery. I thought with a sensation of madness on mypromise of creating another like to him, and trembling with passion,tore to pieces the thing on which I was engaged. The wretch saw medestroy the creature on whose future existence he depended forhappiness, and with a howl of devilish despair and revenge, withdrew.

I left the room, and locking the door, made a solemn vow in my ownheart never to resume my labours; and then, with trembling steps, Isought my own apartment. I was alone; none were near me to dissipatethe gloom and relieve me from the sickening oppression of the mostterrible 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 naturereposed under the eye of the quiet moon. A few fishing vessels alonespecked the water, and now and then the gentle breeze wafted the soundof voices as the fishermen called to one another. I felt the silence,although I was hardly conscious of its extreme profundity, until my earwas suddenly arrested by the paddling of oars near the shore, and aperson landed close to my house.

In a few minutes after, I heard the creaking of my door, as if some oneendeavoured to open it softly. I trembled from head to foot; I felt apresentiment of who it was and wished to rouse one of the peasants whodwelt in a cottage not far from mine; but I was overcome by thesensation of helplessness, so often felt in frightful dreams, when youin vain endeavour to fly from an impending danger, and was rooted tothe 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, "Youhave 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; Ileft Switzerland with you; I crept along the shores of the Rhine, amongits willow islands and over the summits of its hills. I have dweltmany months in the heaths of England and among the deserts of Scotland.I have endured incalculable fatigue, and cold, and hunger; do you daredestroy my hopes?"

"Begone! I do break my promise; never will I create another likeyourself, equal in deformity and wickedness."

"Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourselfunworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power; you believeyourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light ofday 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 isarrived. Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness; butthey confirm me in a determination of not creating you a companion invice. Shall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a daemon whosedelight is in death and wretchedness? Begone! I am firm, and yourwords will only exasperate my rage."

The monster saw my determination in my face and gnashed his teeth inthe impotence of anger. "Shall each man," cried he, "find a wife forhis bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I hadfeelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn.Man! You may hate, but beware! Your hours will pass in dread andmisery, and soon the bolt will fall which must ravish from you yourhappiness forever. Are you to be happy while I grovel in the intensityof my wretchedness? You can blast my other passions, but revengeremains—revenge, henceforth dearer than light or food! I may die, butfirst you, my tyrant and tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes onyour misery. Beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful. I willwatch 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 bendbeneath words. Leave me; I am inexorable."

"It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on yourwedding-night."

I started forward and exclaimed, "Villain! Before you sign mydeath-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe."

I would have seized him, but he eluded me and quitted the house withprecipitation. In a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shotacross the waters with an arrowy swiftness and was soon lost amidst thewaves.

All was again silent, but his words rang in my ears. I burned withrage to pursue the murderer of my peace and precipitate him into theocean. I walked up and down my room hastily and perturbed, while myimagination conjured up a thousand images to torment and sting me. Whyhad I not followed him and closed with him in mortal strife? But I hadsuffered him to depart, and he had directed his course towards themainland. I shuddered to think who might be the next victim sacrificedto his insatiate revenge. And then I thought again of his words—"IWILL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING-NIGHT." That, then, was the periodfixed for the fulfilment of my destiny. In that hour I should die andat once satisfy and extinguish his malice. The prospect did not moveme to fear; yet when I thought of my beloved Elizabeth, of her tearsand endless sorrow, when she should find her lover so barbarouslysnatched from her, tears, the first I had shed for many months,streamed from my eyes, and I resolved not to fall before my enemywithout a bitter struggle.

The night passed away, and the sun rose from the ocean; my feelingsbecame calmer, if it may be called calmness when the violence of ragesinks into the depths of despair. I left the house, the horrid sceneof the last night's contention, and walked on the beach of the sea,which I almost regarded as an insuperable barrier between me and myfellow creatures; nay, a wish that such should prove the fact stoleacross me.

I desired that I might pass my life on that barren rock, wearily, it istrue, 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 thegrasp of a daemon whom I had myself created.

I walked about the isle like a restless spectre, separated from all itloved and miserable in the separation. When it became noon, and thesun rose higher, I lay down on the grass and was overpowered by a deepsleep. I had been awake the whole of the preceding night, my nerveswere agitated, and my eyes inflamed by watching and misery. The sleepinto which I now sank refreshed me; and when I awoke, I again felt asif I belonged to a race of human beings like myself, and I began toreflect upon what had passed with greater composure; yet still thewords of the fiend rang in my ears like a death-knell; they appearedlike a dream, yet distinct and oppressive as a reality.

The sun had far descended, and I still sat on the shore, satisfying myappetite, which had become ravenous, with an oaten cake, when I saw afishing-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 tojoin him. He said that he was wearing away his time fruitlessly wherehe was, that letters from the friends he had formed in London desiredhis return to complete the negotiation they had entered into for hisIndian enterprise. He could not any longer delay his departure; but ashis journey to London might be followed, even sooner than he nowconjectured, by his longer voyage, he entreated me to bestow as much ofmy society on him as I could spare. He besought me, therefore, toleave my solitary isle and to meet him at Perth, that we might proceedsouthwards together. This letter in a degree recalled me to life, andI 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 toreflect; I must pack up my chemical instruments, and for that purpose Imust enter the room which had been the scene of my odious work, and Imust handle those utensils the sight of which was sickening to me. Thenext morning, at daybreak, I summoned sufficient courage and unlockedthe door of my laboratory. The remains of the half-finished creature,whom I had destroyed, lay scattered on the floor, and I almost felt asif I had mangled the living flesh of a human being. I paused tocollect myself and then entered the chamber. With trembling hand Iconveyed the instruments out of the room, but I reflected that I oughtnot to leave the relics of my work to excite the horror and suspicionof the peasants; and I accordingly put them into a basket, with a greatquantity of stones, and laying them up, determined to throw them intothe 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 placein my feelings since the night of the appearance of the daemon. I hadbefore regarded my promise with a gloomy despair as a thing that, withwhatever consequences, must be fulfilled; but I now felt as if a filmhad been taken from before my eyes and that I for the first time sawclearly. The idea of renewing my labours did not for one instant occurto me; the threat I had heard weighed on my thoughts, but I did notreflect that a voluntary act of mine could avert it. I had resolved inmy own mind that to create another like the fiend I had first madewould be an act of the basest and most atrocious selfishness, and Ibanished from my mind every thought that could lead to a differentconclusion.

Between two and three in the morning the moon rose; and I then, puttingmy basket aboard a little skiff, sailed out about four miles from theshore. The scene was perfectly solitary; a few boats were returningtowards land, but I sailed away from them. I felt as if I was aboutthe commission of a dreadful crime and avoided with shuddering anxietyany encounter with my fellow creatures. At one time the moon, whichhad before been clear, was suddenly overspread by a thick cloud, and Itook advantage of the moment of darkness and cast my basket into thesea; I listened to the gurgling sound as it sank and then sailed awayfrom the spot. The sky became clouded, but the air was pure, althoughchilled by the northeast breeze that was then rising. But it refreshedme and filled me with such agreeable sensations that I resolved toprolong my stay on the water, and fixing the rudder in a directposition, stretched myself at the bottom of the boat. Clouds hid themoon, everything was obscure, and I heard only the sound of the boat asits keel cut through the waves; the murmur lulled me, and in a shorttime I slept soundly. I do not know how long I remained in thissituation, but when I awoke I found that the sun had already mountedconsiderably. The wind was high, and the waves continually threatenedthe safety of my little skiff. I found that the wind was northeast andmust have driven me far from the coast from which I had embarked. Iendeavoured to change my course but quickly found that if I again madethe attempt the boat would be instantly filled with water. Thussituated, my only resource was to drive before the wind. I confessthat I felt a few sensations of terror. I had no compass with me andwas so slenderly acquainted with the geography of this part of theworld that the sun was of little benefit to me. I might be driven intothe wide Atlantic and feel all the tortures of starvation or beswallowed up in the immeasurable waters that roared and buffeted aroundme. I had already been out many hours and felt the torment of aburning thirst, a prelude to my other sufferings. I looked on theheavens, which were covered by clouds that flew before the wind, onlyto 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 ofElizabeth, of my father, and of Clerval—all left behind, on whom themonster might satisfy his sanguinary and merciless passions. This ideaplunged me into a reverie so despairing and frightful that even now,when the scene is on the point of closing before me forever, I shudderto reflect on it.

Some hours passed thus; but by degrees, as the sun declined towards thehorizon, the wind died away into a gentle breeze and the sea becamefree from breakers. But these gave place to a heavy swell; I felt sickand hardly able to hold the rudder, when suddenly I saw a line of highland towards the south.

Almost spent, as I was, by fatigue and the dreadful suspense I enduredfor several hours, this sudden certainty of life rushed like a flood ofwarm joy to my heart, and tears gushed from my eyes.

How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love wehave of life even in the excess of misery! I constructed another sailwith 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 easilyperceived the traces of cultivation. I saw vessels near the shore andfound myself suddenly transported back to the neighbourhood ofcivilized man. I carefully traced the windings of the land and haileda 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 directlytowards the town, as a place where I could most easily procurenourishment. Fortunately I had money with me.

As I turned the promontory I perceived a small neat town and a goodharbour, which I entered, my heart bounding with joy at my unexpectedescape.

As I was occupied in fixing the boat and arranging the sails, severalpeople crowded towards the spot. They seemed much surprised at myappearance, but instead of offering me any assistance, whisperedtogether with gestures that at any other time might have produced in mea slight sensation of alarm. As it was, I merely remarked that theyspoke English, and I therefore addressed them in that language. "Mygood friends," said I, "will you be so kind as to tell me the name ofthis 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 astranger, and I was also disconcerted on perceiving the frowning andangry countenances of his companions. "Why do you answer me soroughly?" I replied. "Surely it is not the custom of Englishmen toreceive 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 strangedialogue continued, I perceived the crowd rapidly increase. Theirfaces expressed a mixture of curiosity and anger, which annoyed and insome degree alarmed me.

I inquired the way to the inn, but no one replied. I then movedforward, and a murmuring sound arose from the crowd as they followedand surrounded me, when an ill-looking man approaching tapped me on theshoulder and said, "Come, sir, you must follow me to Mr. Kirwin's togive an account of yourself."

"Who is Mr. Kirwin? Why am I to give an account of myself? Is notthis 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 wasfound murdered here last night."

This answer startled me, but I presently recovered myself. I wasinnocent; that could easily be proved; accordingly I followed myconductor 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 acrowd, I thought it politic to rouse all my strength, that no physicaldebility might be construed into apprehension or conscious guilt.Little did I then expect the calamity that was in a few moments tooverwhelm me and extinguish in horror and despair all fear of ignominyor death. I must pause here, for it requires all my fortitude to recallthe memory of the frightful events which I am about to relate, inproper detail, to my recollection.

Chapter 21

I was soon introduced into the presence of the magistrate, an oldbenevolent 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 themagistrate, he deposed that he had been out fishing the night beforewith his son and brother-in-law, Daniel Nugent, when, about teno'clock, they observed a strong northerly blast rising, and theyaccordingly put in for port. It was a very dark night, as the moon hadnot yet risen; they did not land at the harbour, but, as they had beenaccustomed, at a creek about two miles below. He walked on first,carrying a part of the fishing tackle, and his companions followed himat some distance.

As he was proceeding along the sands, he struck his foot againstsomething and fell at his length on the ground. His companions came upto assist him, and by the light of their lantern they found that he hadfallen on the body of a man, who was to all appearance dead. Theirfirst supposition was that it was the corpse of some person who hadbeen drowned and was thrown on shore by the waves, but on examinationthey found that the clothes were not wet and even that the body was notthen cold. They instantly carried it to the cottage of an old womannear the spot and endeavoured, but in vain, to restore it to life. Itappeared to be a handsome young man, about five and twenty years ofa*ge. He had apparently been strangled, for there was no sign of anyviolence except the black mark of fingers on his neck.

The first part of this deposition did not in the least interest me, butwhen the mark of the fingers was mentioned I remembered the murder ofmy brother and felt myself extremely agitated; my limbs trembled, and amist came over my eyes, which obliged me to lean on a chair forsupport. The magistrate observed me with a keen eye and of course drewan unfavourable augury from my manner.

The son confirmed his father's account, but when Daniel Nugent wascalled 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 theshore; and as far as he could judge by the light of a few stars, it wasthe same boat in which I had just landed. A woman deposed that shelived near the beach and was standing at the door of her cottage,waiting for the return of the fishermen, about an hour before she heardof the discovery of the body, when she saw a boat with only one man init push off from that part of the shore where the corpse was afterwardsfound.

Another woman confirmed the account of the fishermen having brought thebody into her house; it was not cold. They put it into a bed andrubbed it, and Daniel went to the town for an apothecary, but life wasquite gone.

Several other men were examined concerning my landing, and they agreedthat, with the strong north wind that had arisen during the night, itwas very probable that I had beaten about for many hours and had beenobliged to return nearly to the same spot from which I had departed.Besides, they observed that it appeared that I had brought the bodyfrom another place, and it was likely that as I did not appear to knowthe shore, I might have put into the harbour ignorant of the distanceof the town of —— from the place where I had deposited the corpse.

Mr. Kirwin, on hearing this evidence, desired that I should be takeninto the room where the body lay for interment, that it might beobserved what effect the sight of it would produce upon me. This ideawas probably suggested by the extreme agitation I had exhibited whenthe mode of the murder had been described. I was accordinglyconducted, by the magistrate and several other persons, to the inn. Icould not help being struck by the strange coincidences that had takenplace during this eventful night; but, knowing that I had beenconversing with several persons in the island I had inhabited about thetime that the body had been found, I was perfectly tranquil as to theconsequences of the affair. I entered the room where the corpse layand was led up to the coffin. How can I describe my sensations onbeholding it? I feel yet parched with horror, nor can I reflect onthat terrible moment without shuddering and agony. The examination,the presence of the magistrate and witnesses, passed like a dream frommy memory when I saw the lifeless form of Henry Clerval stretchedbefore me. I gasped for breath, and throwing myself on the body, Iexclaimed, "Have my murderous machinations deprived you also, mydearest Henry, of life? Two I have already destroyed; other victimsawait their destiny; but you, Clerval, my friend, my benefactor—"

The human frame could no longer support the agonies that I endured, andI was carried out of the room in strong convulsions. A fever succeededto this. I lay for two months on the point of death; my ravings, as Iafterwards heard, were frightful; I called myself the murderer ofWilliam, of Justine, and of Clerval. Sometimes I entreated myattendants to assist me in the destruction of the fiend by whom I wastormented; and at others I felt the fingers of the monster alreadygrasping my neck, and screamed aloud with agony and terror.Fortunately, as I spoke my native language, Mr. Kirwin alone understoodme; but my gestures and bitter cries were sufficient to affright theother witnesses. Why did I not die? More miserable than man ever wasbefore, why did I not sink into forgetfulness and rest? Death snatchesaway many blooming children, the only hopes of their doting parents;how many brides and youthful lovers have been one day in the bloom ofhealth and hope, and the next a prey for worms and the decay of thetomb! Of what materials was I made that I could thus resist so manyshocks, which, like the turning of the wheel, continually renewed thetorture?

But I was doomed to live and in two months found myself as awaking froma dream, in a prison, stretched on a wretched bed, surrounded byjailers, turnkeys, bolts, and all the miserable apparatus of a dungeon.It was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to understanding; I hadforgotten the particulars of what had happened and only felt as if somegreat misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me; but when I looked aroundand saw the barred windows and the squalidness of the room in which Iwas, all flashed across my memory and I groaned bitterly.

This sound disturbed an old woman who was sleeping in a chair besideme. She was a hired nurse, the wife of one of the turnkeys, and hercountenance expressed all those bad qualities which often characterizethat class. The lines of her face were hard and rude, like that ofpersons accustomed to see without sympathizing in sights of misery. Hertone 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 amstill alive to feel this misery and horror."

"For that matter," replied the old woman, "if you mean about thegentleman you murdered, I believe that it were better for you if youwere dead, for I fancy it will go hard with you! However, that's noneof my business; I am sent to nurse you and get you well; I do my dutywith a safe conscience; it were well if everybody did the same."

I turned with loathing from the woman who could utter so unfeeling aspeech to a person just saved, on the very edge of death; but I feltlanguid and unable to reflect on all that had passed. The whole seriesof my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed itwere all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the forceof reality.

As the images that floated before me became more distinct, I grewfeverish; a darkness pressed around me; no one was near me who soothedme with the gentle voice of love; no dear hand supported me. Thephysician came and prescribed medicines, and the old woman preparedthem for me; but utter carelessness was visible in the first, and theexpression of brutality was strongly marked in the visage of thesecond. Who could be interested in the fate of a murderer but thehangman who would gain his fee?

These were my first reflections, but I soon learned that Mr. Kirwin hadshown me extreme kindness. He had caused the best room in the prisonto be prepared for me (wretched indeed was the best); and it was he whohad provided a physician and a nurse. It is true, he seldom came tosee me, for although he ardently desired to relieve the sufferings ofevery human creature, he did not wish to be present at the agonies andmiserable ravings of a murderer. He came, therefore, sometimes to seethat I was not neglected, but his visits were short and with longintervals. One day, while I was gradually recovering, I was seated ina chair, my eyes half open and my cheeks livid like those in death. Iwas overcome by gloom and misery and often reflected I had better seekdeath than desire to remain in a world which to me was replete withwretchedness. At one time I considered whether I should not declaremyself guilty and suffer the penalty of the law, less innocent thanpoor Justine had been. Such were my thoughts when the door of myapartment was opened and Mr. Kirwin entered. His countenance expressedsympathy and compassion; he drew a chair close to mine and addressed mein French, "I fear that this place is very shocking to you; can I doanything to make you more comfortable?"

"I thank you, but all that you mention is nothing to me; on the wholeearth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving."

"I know that the sympathy of a stranger can be but of little relief toone borne down as you are by so strange a misfortune. But you will, Ihope, soon quit this melancholy abode, for doubtless evidence caneasily be brought to free you from the criminal charge."

"That is my least concern; I am, by a course of strange events, becomethe most miserable of mortals. Persecuted and tortured as I am andhave been, can death be any evil to me?"

"Nothing indeed could be more unfortunate and agonizing than thestrange chances that have lately occurred. You were thrown, by somesurprising accident, on this shore, renowned for its hospitality,seized immediately, and charged with murder. The first sight that waspresented to your eyes was the body of your friend, murdered in sounaccountable a manner and placed, as it were, by some fiend acrossyour path."

As Mr. Kirwin said this, notwithstanding the agitation I endured onthis retrospect of my sufferings, I also felt considerable surprise atthe knowledge he seemed to possess concerning me. I suppose someastonishment was exhibited in my countenance, for Mr. Kirwin hastenedto say, "Immediately upon your being taken ill, all the papers thatwere on your person were brought me, and I examined them that I mightdiscover some trace by which I could send to your relations an accountof your misfortune and illness. I found several letters, and, amongothers, one which I discovered from its commencement to be from yourfather. I instantly wrote to Geneva; nearly two months have elapsedsince the departure of my letter. But you are ill; even now youtremble; 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 amnow to lament?"

"Your family is perfectly well," said Mr. Kirwin with gentleness; "andsomeone, a friend, is come to visit you."

I know not by what chain of thought the idea presented itself, but itinstantly darted into my mind that the murderer had come to mock at mymisery and taunt me with the death of Clerval, as a new incitement forme 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; forGod's sake, do not let him enter!"

Mr. Kirwin regarded me with a troubled countenance. He could not helpregarding my exclamation as a presumption of my guilt and said inrather a severe tone, "I should have thought, young man, that thepresence of your father would have been welcome instead of inspiringsuch violent repugnance."

"My father!" cried I, while every feature and every muscle was relaxedfrom anguish to pleasure. "Is my father indeed come? How kind, howvery kind! But where is he, why does he not hasten to me?"

My change of manner surprised and pleased the magistrate; perhaps hethought that my former exclamation was a momentary return of delirium,and now he instantly resumed his former benevolence. He rose andquitted the room with my nurse, and in a moment my father entered it.

Nothing, at this moment, could have given me greater pleasure than thearrival of my father. I stretched out my hand to him and cried, "Areyou, then, safe—and Elizabeth—and Ernest?" My father calmed me withassurances of their welfare and endeavoured, by dwelling on thesesubjects 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, lookingmournfully 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 toogreat to be endured in my weak state; I shed tears. "Alas! Yes, myfather," replied I; "some destiny of the most horrible kind hangs overme, and I must live to fulfil it, or surely I should have died on thecoffin of Henry."

We were not allowed to converse for any length of time, for theprecarious state of my health rendered every precaution necessary thatcould ensure tranquillity. Mr. Kirwin came in and insisted that mystrength should not be exhausted by too much exertion. But theappearance of my father was to me like that of my good angel, and Igradually recovered my health.

As my sickness quitted me, I was absorbed by a gloomy and blackmelancholy that nothing could dissipate. The image of Clerval wasforever before me, ghastly and murdered. More than once the agitationinto which these reflections threw me made my friends dread a dangerousrelapse. Alas! Why did they preserve so miserable and detested alife? It was surely that I might fulfil my destiny, which is nowdrawing to a close. Soon, oh, very soon, will death extinguish thesethrobbings and relieve me from the mighty weight of anguish that bearsme to the dust; and, in executing the award of justice, I shall alsosink to rest. Then the appearance of death was distant, although thewish was ever present to my thoughts; and I often sat for hoursmotionless and speechless, wishing for some mighty revolution thatmight bury me and my destroyer in its ruins.

The season of the assizes approached. I had already been three monthsin prison, and although I was still weak and in continual danger of arelapse, I was obliged to travel nearly a hundred miles to the countrytown where the court was held. Mr. Kirwin charged himself with everycare of collecting witnesses and arranging my defence. I was sparedthe disgrace of appearing publicly as a criminal, as the case was notbrought before the court that decides on life and death. The grandjury rejected the bill, on its being proved that I was on the OrkneyIslands at the hour the body of my friend was found; and a fortnightafter my removal I was liberated from prison.

My father was enraptured on finding me freed from the vexations of acriminal charge, that I was again allowed to breathe the freshatmosphere and permitted to return to my native country. I did notparticipate in these feelings, for to me the walls of a dungeon or apalace were alike hateful. The cup of life was poisoned forever, andalthough the sun shone upon me, as upon the happy and gay of heart, Isaw around me nothing but a dense and frightful darkness, penetrated byno light but the glimmer of two eyes that glared upon me. Sometimesthey were the expressive eyes of Henry, languishing in death, the darkorbs nearly covered by the lids and the long black lashes that fringedthem; sometimes it was the watery, clouded eyes of the monster, as Ifirst saw them in my chamber at Ingolstadt.

My father tried to awaken in me the feelings of affection. He talkedof Geneva, which I should soon visit, of Elizabeth and Ernest; butthese words only drew deep groans from me. Sometimes, indeed, I felt awish for happiness and thought with melancholy delight of my belovedcousin or longed, with a devouring maladie du pays, to see once morethe blue lake and rapid Rhone, that had been so dear to me in earlychildhood; but my general state of feeling was a torpor in which aprison was as welcome a residence as the divinest scene in nature; andthese fits were seldom interrupted but by paroxysms of anguish anddespair. At these moments I often endeavoured to put an end to theexistence I loathed, and it required unceasing attendance and vigilanceto restrain me from committing some dreadful act of violence.

Yet one duty remained to me, the recollection of which finallytriumphed over my selfish despair. It was necessary that I shouldreturn without delay to Geneva, there to watch over the lives of thoseI so fondly loved and to lie in wait for the murderer, that if anychance led me to the place of his concealment, or if he dared again toblast me by his presence, I might, with unfailing aim, put an end tothe existence of the monstrous image which I had endued with themockery of a soul still more monstrous. My father still desired todelay our departure, fearful that I could not sustain the fatigues of ajourney, for I was a shattered wreck—the shadow of a human being. Mystrength was gone. I was a mere skeleton, and fever night and daypreyed upon my wasted frame. Still, as I urged our leaving Irelandwith such inquietude and impatience, my father thought it best toyield. We took our passage on board a vessel bound for Havre-de-Graceand sailed with a fair wind from the Irish shores. It was midnight. Ilay on the deck looking at the stars and listening to the dashing ofthe waves. I hailed the darkness that shut Ireland from my sight, andmy pulse beat with a feverish joy when I reflected that I should soonsee 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 detestedshore of Ireland, and the sea which surrounded me told me too forciblythat I was deceived by no vision and that Clerval, my friend anddearest companion, had fallen a victim to me and the monster of mycreation. I repassed, in my memory, my whole life—my quiet happinesswhile residing with my family in Geneva, the death of my mother, and mydeparture for Ingolstadt. I remembered, shuddering, the mad enthusiasmthat hurried me on to the creation of my hideous enemy, and I called tomind the night in which he first lived. I was unable to pursue thetrain of thought; a thousand feelings pressed upon me, and I weptbitterly. Ever since my recovery from the fever I had been in thecustom of taking every night a small quantity of laudanum, for it wasby means of this drug only that I was enabled to gain the restnecessary for the preservation of life. Oppressed by the recollectionof my various misfortunes, I now swallowed double my usual quantity andsoon slept profoundly. But sleep did not afford me respite fromthought and misery; my dreams presented a thousand objects that scaredme. Towards morning I was possessed by a kind of nightmare; I felt thefiend's grasp in my neck and could not free myself from it; groans andcries rang in my ears. My father, who was watching over me, perceivingmy restlessness, awoke me; the dashing waves were around, the cloudysky above, the fiend was not here: a sense of security, a feeling thata truce was established between the present hour and the irresistible,disastrous future imparted to me a kind of calm forgetfulness, of whichthe human mind is by its structure peculiarly susceptible.

Chapter 22

The voyage came to an end. We landed, and proceeded to Paris. I soonfound that I had overtaxed my strength and that I must repose before Icould continue my journey. My father's care and attentions wereindefatigable, but he did not know the origin of my sufferings andsought erroneous methods to remedy the incurable ill. He wished me toseek amusem*nt in society. I abhorred the face of man. Oh, notabhorred! They were my brethren, my fellow beings, and I feltattracted even to the most repulsive among them, as to creatures of anangelic nature and celestial mechanism. But I felt that I had no rightto share their intercourse. I had unchained an enemy among them whosejoy it was to shed their blood and to revel in their groans. How theywould, each and all, abhor me and hunt me from the world did they knowmy unhallowed acts and the crimes which had their source in me!

My father yielded at length to my desire to avoid society and strove byvarious arguments to banish my despair. Sometimes he thought that Ifelt deeply the degradation of being obliged to answer a charge ofmurder, 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 wretchas 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 causeof this—I murdered her. William, Justine, and Henry—they all died bymy hands."

My father had often, during my imprisonment, heard me make the sameassertion; when I thus accused myself, he sometimes seemed to desire anexplanation, and at others he appeared to consider it as the offspringof delirium, and that, during my illness, some idea of this kind hadpresented itself to my imagination, the remembrance of which Ipreserved in my convalescence.

I avoided explanation and maintained a continual silence concerning thewretch I had created. I had a persuasion that I should be supposedmad, and this in itself would forever have chained my tongue. But,besides, I could not bring myself to disclose a secret which would fillmy hearer with consternation and make fear and unnatural horror theinmates of his breast. I checked, therefore, my impatient thirst forsympathy and was silent when I would have given the world to haveconfided the fatal secret. Yet, still, words like those I haverecorded would burst uncontrollably from me. I could offer noexplanation of them, but their truth in part relieved the burden of mymysterious woe. Upon this occasion my father said, with an expressionof unbounded wonder, "My dearest Victor, what infatuation is this? Mydear son, I entreat you never to make such an assertion again."

"I am not mad," I cried energetically; "the sun and the heavens, whohave viewed my operations, can bear witness of my truth. I am theassassin of those most innocent victims; they died by my machinations.A thousand times would I have shed my own blood, drop by drop, to havesaved their lives; but I could not, my father, indeed I could notsacrifice the whole human race."

The conclusion of this speech convinced my father that my ideas werederanged, and he instantly changed the subject of our conversation andendeavoured to alter the course of my thoughts. He wished as much aspossible to obliterate the memory of the scenes that had taken place inIreland and never alluded to them or suffered me to speak of mymisfortunes.

As time passed away I became more calm; misery had her dwelling in myheart, but I no longer talked in the same incoherent manner of my owncrimes; sufficient for me was the consciousness of them. By the utmostself-violence I curbed the imperious voice of wretchedness, whichsometimes desired to declare itself to the whole world, and my mannerswere calmer and more composed than they had ever been since my journeyto the sea of ice. A few days before we left Paris on our way toSwitzerland, I received the following letter from Elizabeth:

"My dear Friend,

"It gave me the greatest pleasure to receive a letter from my uncledated at Paris; you are no longer at a formidable distance, and I mayhope to see you in less than a fortnight. My poor cousin, how much youmust have suffered! I expect to see you looking even more ill thanwhen you quitted Geneva. This winter has been passed most miserably,tortured as I have been by anxious suspense; yet I hope to see peace inyour countenance and to find that your heart is not totally void ofcomfort and tranquillity.

"Yet I fear that the same feelings now exist that made you so miserablea year ago, even perhaps augmented by time. I would not disturb you atthis period, when so many misfortunes weigh upon you, but aconversation that I had with my uncle previous to his departure renderssome explanation necessary before we meet. Explanation! You maypossibly say, What can Elizabeth have to explain? If you really saythis, my questions are answered and all my doubts satisfied. But youare distant from me, and it is possible that you may dread and yet bepleased with this explanation; and in a probability of this being thecase, 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 tobegin.

"You well know, Victor, that our union had been the favourite plan ofyour parents ever since our infancy. We were told this when young, andtaught to look forward to it as an event that would certainly takeplace. We were affectionate playfellows during childhood, and, Ibelieve, dear and valued friends to one another as we grew older. Butas brother and sister often entertain a lively affection towards eachother without desiring a more intimate union, may not such also be ourcase? Tell me, dearest Victor. Answer me, I conjure you by our mutualhappiness, with simple truth—Do you not love another?

"You have travelled; you have spent several years of your life atIngolstadt; and I confess to you, my friend, that when I saw you lastautumn so unhappy, flying to solitude from the society of everycreature, I could not help supposing that you might regret ourconnection and believe yourself bound in honour to fulfil the wishes ofyour parents, although they opposed themselves to your inclinations.But this is false reasoning. I confess to you, my friend, that I loveyou and that in my airy dreams of futurity you have been my constantfriend and companion. But it is your happiness I desire as well as myown when I declare to you that our marriage would render me eternallymiserable unless it were the dictate of your own free choice. Even nowI weep to think that, borne down as you are by the cruellestmisfortunes, you may stifle, by the word 'honour,' all hope of thatlove and happiness which would alone restore you to yourself. I, whohave so disinterested an affection for you, may increase your miseriestenfold by being an obstacle to your wishes. Ah! Victor, be assuredthat your cousin and playmate has too sincere a love for you not to bemade miserable by this supposition. Be happy, my friend; and if youobey me in this one request, remain satisfied that nothing on earthwill have the power to interrupt my tranquillity.

"Do not let this letter disturb you; do not answer tomorrow, or thenext day, or even until you come, if it will give you pain. My unclewill send me news of your health, and if I see but one smile on yourlips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, Ishall need no other happiness.

This letter revived in my memory what I had before forgotten, thethreat of the fiend—"I WILL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING-NIGHT!" Suchwas my sentence, and on that night would the daemon employ every art todestroy me and tear me from the glimpse of happiness which promisedpartly to console my sufferings. On that night he had determined toconsummate his crimes by my death. Well, be it so; a deadly strugglewould then assuredly take place, in which if he were victorious Ishould be at peace and his power over me be at an end. If he werevanquished, I should be a free man. Alas! What freedom? Such as thepeasant enjoys when his family have been massacred before his eyes, hiscottage burnt, his lands laid waste, and he is turned adrift, homeless,penniless, and alone, but free. Such would be my liberty except that inmy Elizabeth I possessed a treasure, alas, balanced by those horrors ofremorse and guilt which would pursue me until death.

Sweet and beloved Elizabeth! I read and reread her letter, and somesoftened feelings stole into my heart and dared to whisper paradisiacaldreams of love and joy; but the apple was already eaten, and theangel's arm bared to drive me from all hope. Yet I would die to makeher happy. If the monster executed his threat, death was inevitable;yet, again, I considered whether my marriage would hasten my fate. Mydestruction might indeed arrive a few months sooner, but if my torturershould suspect that I postponed it, influenced by his menaces, he wouldsurely find other and perhaps more dreadful means of revenge.

He had vowed TO BE WITH ME ON MY WEDDING-NIGHT, yet he did not considerthat threat as binding him to peace in the meantime, for as if to showme that he was not yet satiated with blood, he had murdered Clervalimmediately after the enunciation of his threats. I resolved,therefore, that if my immediate union with my cousin would conduceeither to hers or my father's happiness, my adversary's designs againstmy life should not retard it a single hour.

In this state of mind I wrote to Elizabeth. My letter was calm andaffectionate. "I fear, my beloved girl," I said, "little happinessremains for us on earth; yet all that I may one day enjoy is centred inyou. Chase away your idle fears; to you alone do I consecrate my lifeand my endeavours for contentment. I have one secret, Elizabeth, adreadful one; when revealed to you, it will chill your frame withhorror, and then, far from being surprised at my misery, you will onlywonder that I survive what I have endured. I will confide this tale ofmisery and terror to you the day after our marriage shall take place,for, my sweet cousin, there must be perfect confidence between us. Butuntil then, I conjure you, do not mention or allude to it. This I mostearnestly entreat, and I know you will comply."

In about a week after the arrival of Elizabeth's letter we returned toGeneva. The sweet girl welcomed me with warm affection, yet tears werein her eyes as she beheld my emaciated frame and feverish cheeks. Isaw a change in her also. She was thinner and had lost much of thatheavenly vivacity that had before charmed me; but her gentleness andsoft looks of compassion made her a more fit companion for one blastedand miserable as I was. The tranquillity which I now enjoyed did notendure. Memory brought madness with it, and when I thought of what hadpassed, a real insanity possessed me; sometimes I was furious and burntwith rage, sometimes low and despondent. I neither spoke nor looked atanyone, but sat motionless, bewildered by the multitude of miseriesthat overcame me.

Elizabeth alone had the power to draw me from these fits; her gentlevoice would soothe me when transported by passion and inspire me withhuman feelings when sunk in torpor. She wept with me and for me. Whenreason returned, she would remonstrate and endeavour to inspire me withresignation. Ah! It is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, butfor the guilty there is no peace. The agonies of remorse poison theluxury there is otherwise sometimes found in indulging the excess ofgrief. Soon after my arrival my father spoke of my immediate marriagewith Elizabeth. I remained silent.

"Have you, then, some other attachment?"

"None on earth. I love Elizabeth and look forward to our union withdelight. Let the day therefore be fixed; and on it I will consecratemyself, in life or death, to the happiness of my cousin."

"My dear Victor, do not speak thus. Heavy misfortunes have befallenus, but let us only cling closer to what remains and transfer our lovefor those whom we have lost to those who yet live. Our circle will besmall but bound close by the ties of affection and mutual misfortune.And when time shall have softened your despair, new and dear objects ofcare will be born to replace those of whom we have been so cruellydeprived."

Such were the lessons of my father. But to me the remembrance of thethreat returned; nor can you wonder that, omnipotent as the fiend hadyet been in his deeds of blood, I should almost regard him asinvincible, and that when he had pronounced the words "I SHALL BE WITHYOU ON YOUR WEDDING-NIGHT," I should regard the threatened fate asunavoidable. But death was no evil to me if the loss of Elizabeth werebalanced with it, and I therefore, with a contented and even cheerfulcountenance, agreed with my father that if my cousin would consent, theceremony 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 hellishintention of my fiendish adversary, I would rather have banished myselfforever from my native country and wandered a friendless outcast overthe earth than have consented to this miserable marriage. But, as ifpossessed of magic powers, the monster had blinded me to his realintentions; and when I thought that I had prepared only my own death, Ihastened that of a far dearer victim.

As the period fixed for our marriage drew nearer, whether fromcowardice or a prophetic feeling, I felt my heart sink within me. ButI concealed my feelings by an appearance of hilarity that broughtsmiles and joy to the countenance of my father, but hardly deceived theever-watchful and nicer eye of Elizabeth. She looked forward to ourunion with placid contentment, not unmingled with a little fear, whichpast misfortunes had impressed, that what now appeared certain andtangible happiness might soon dissipate into an airy dream and leave notrace but deep and everlasting regret. Preparations were made for theevent, congratulatory visits were received, and all wore a smilingappearance. I shut up, as well as I could, in my own heart the anxietythat preyed there and entered with seeming earnestness into the plansof my father, although they might only serve as the decorations of mytragedy. Through my father's exertions a part of the inheritance ofElizabeth had been restored to her by the Austrian government. A smallpossession on the shores of Como belonged to her. It was agreed that,immediately after our union, we should proceed to Villa Lavenza andspend our first days of happiness beside the beautiful lake near whichit stood.

In the meantime I took every precaution to defend my person in case thefiend should openly attack me. I carried pistols and a daggerconstantly about me and was ever on the watch to prevent artifice, andby these means gained a greater degree of tranquillity. Indeed, as theperiod approached, the threat appeared more as a delusion, not to beregarded as worthy to disturb my peace, while the happiness I hoped forin my marriage wore a greater appearance of certainty as the day fixedfor its solemnization drew nearer and I heard it continually spoken ofas an occurrence which no accident could possibly prevent.

Elizabeth seemed happy; my tranquil demeanour contributed greatly tocalm her mind. But on the day that was to fulfil my wishes and mydestiny, she was melancholy, and a presentiment of evil pervaded her;and perhaps also she thought of the dreadful secret which I hadpromised to reveal to her on the following day. My father was in themeantime overjoyed and in the bustle of preparation only recognized inthe melancholy of his niece the diffidence of a bride.

After the ceremony was performed a large party assembled at myfather's, but it was agreed that Elizabeth and I should commence ourjourney by water, sleeping that night at Evian and continuing ourvoyage 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 thefeeling of happiness. We passed rapidly along; the sun was hot, but wewere sheltered from its rays by a kind of canopy while we enjoyed thebeauty of the scene, sometimes on one side of the lake, where we sawMont Saleve, the pleasant banks of Montalegre, and at a distance,surmounting all, the beautiful Mont Blanc and the assemblage of snowymountains that in vain endeavour to emulate her; sometimes coasting theopposite banks, we saw the mighty Jura opposing its dark side to theambition that would quit its native country, and an almostinsurmountable barrier to the invader who should wish to enslave it.

I took the hand of Elizabeth. "You are sorrowful, my love. Ah! Ifyou knew what I have suffered and what I may yet endure, you wouldendeavour to let me taste the quiet and freedom from despair that thisone 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 notpainted in my face, my heart is contented. Something whispers to menot to depend too much on the prospect that is opened before us, but Iwill not listen to such a sinister voice. Observe how fast we movealong and how the clouds, which sometimes obscure and sometimes riseabove the dome of Mont Blanc, render this scene of beauty still moreinteresting. Look also at the innumerable fish that are swimming inthe clear waters, where we can distinguish every pebble that lies atthe bottom. What a divine day! How happy and serene all natureappears!"

Thus Elizabeth endeavoured to divert her thoughts and mine from allreflection upon melancholy subjects. But her temper was fluctuating;joy for a few instants shone in her eyes, but it continually gave placeto distraction and reverie.

The sun sank lower in the heavens; we passed the river Drance andobserved its path through the chasms of the higher and the glens of thelower hills. The Alps here come closer to the lake, and we approachedthe amphitheatre of mountains which forms its eastern boundary. Thespire of Evian shone under the woods that surrounded it and the rangeof 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 waterand caused a pleasant motion among the trees as we approached theshore, from which it wafted the most delightful scent of flowers andhay. The sun sank beneath the horizon as we landed, and as I touchedthe shore I felt those cares and fears revive which soon were to claspme and cling to me forever.

Chapter 23

It was eight o'clock when we landed; we walked for a short time on theshore, enjoying the transitory light, and then retired to the inn andcontemplated the lovely scene of waters, woods, and mountains, obscuredin darkness, yet still displaying their black outlines.

The wind, which had fallen in the south, now rose with great violencein the west. The moon had reached her summit in the heavens and wasbeginning to descend; the clouds swept across it swifter than theflight of the vulture and dimmed her rays, while the lake reflected thescene of the busy heavens, rendered still busier by the restless wavesthat were beginning to rise. Suddenly a heavy storm of rain descended.

I had been calm during the day, but so soon as night obscured theshapes of objects, a thousand fears arose in my mind. I was anxiousand watchful, while my right hand grasped a pistol which was hidden inmy bosom; every sound terrified me, but I resolved that I would sell mylife dearly and not shrink from the conflict until my own life or thatof my adversary was extinguished. Elizabeth observed my agitation forsome time in timid and fearful silence, but there was something in myglance 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 besafe; but this night is dreadful, very dreadful."

I passed an hour in this state of mind, when suddenly I reflected howfearful the combat which I momentarily expected would be to my wife,and I earnestly entreated her to retire, resolving not to join heruntil 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 passagesof the house and inspecting every corner that might afford a retreat tomy adversary. But I discovered no trace of him and was beginning toconjecture that some fortunate chance had intervened to prevent theexecution of his menaces when suddenly I heard a shrill and dreadfulscream. It came from the room into which Elizabeth had retired. As Iheard it, the whole truth rushed into my mind, my arms dropped, themotion of every muscle and fibre was suspended; I could feel the bloodtrickling in my veins and tingling in the extremities of my limbs. Thisstate lasted but for an instant; the scream was repeated, and I rushedinto the room. Great God! Why did I not then expire! Why am I hereto relate the destruction of the best hope and the purest creature onearth? She was there, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the bed,her head hanging down and her pale and distorted features half coveredby her hair. Everywhere I turn I see the same figure—her bloodlessarms and relaxed form flung by the murderer on its bridal bier. CouldI behold this and live? Alas! Life is obstinate and clings closestwhere it is most hated. For a moment only did I lose recollection; Ifell 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 ofothers appeared only as a mockery, a shadow of the feelings thatoppressed me. I escaped from them to the room where lay the body ofElizabeth, my love, my wife, so lately living, so dear, so worthy. Shehad been moved from the posture in which I had first beheld her, andnow, as she lay, her head upon her arm and a handkerchief thrown acrossher face and neck, I might have supposed her asleep. I rushed towardsher and embraced her with ardour, but the deadly languor and coldnessof the limbs told me that what I now held in my arms had ceased to bethe Elizabeth whom I had loved and cherished. The murderous mark ofthe fiend's grasp was on her neck, and the breath had ceased to issuefrom her lips. While I still hung over her in the agony of despair, Ihappened 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 moonilluminate the chamber. The shutters had been thrown back, and with asensation of horror not to be described, I saw at the open window afigure the most hideous and abhorred. A grin was on the face of themonster; he seemed to jeer, as with his fiendish finger he pointedtowards the corpse of my wife. I rushed towards the window, anddrawing a pistol from my bosom, fired; but he eluded me, leaped fromhis station, and running with the swiftness of lightning, plunged intothe lake.

The report of the pistol brought a crowd into the room. I pointed tothe spot where he had disappeared, and we followed the track withboats; nets were cast, but in vain. After passing several hours, wereturned hopeless, most of my companions believing it to have been aform conjured up by my fancy. After having landed, they proceeded tosearch the country, parties going in different directions among thewoods and vines.

I attempted to accompany them and proceeded a short distance from thehouse, but my head whirled round, my steps were like those of a drunkenman, I fell at last in a state of utter exhaustion; a film covered myeyes, and my skin was parched with the heat of fever. In this state Iwas carried back and placed on a bed, hardly conscious of what hadhappened; my eyes wandered round the room as if to seek something thatI had lost.

After an interval I arose, and as if by instinct, crawled into the roomwhere the corpse of my beloved lay. There were women weeping around; Ihung over it and joined my sad tears to theirs; all this time nodistinct idea presented itself to my mind, but my thoughts rambled tovarious subjects, reflecting confusedly on my misfortunes and theircause. I was bewildered, in a cloud of wonder and horror. The deathof William, the execution of Justine, the murder of Clerval, and lastlyof my wife; even at that moment I knew not that my only remainingfriends were safe from the malignity of the fiend; my father even nowmight be writhing under his grasp, and Ernest might be dead at hisfeet. This idea made me shudder and recalled me to action. I startedup and resolved to return to Geneva with all possible speed.

There were no horses to be procured, and I must return by the lake; butthe wind was unfavourable, and the rain fell in torrents. However, itwas hardly morning, and I might reasonably hope to arrive by night. Ihired men to row and took an oar myself, for I had always experiencedrelief from mental torment in bodily exercise. But the overflowingmisery I now felt, and the excess of agitation that I endured renderedme incapable of any exertion. I threw down the oar, and leaning myhead upon my hands, gave way to every gloomy idea that arose. If Ilooked up, I saw scenes which were familiar to me in my happier timeand which I had contemplated but the day before in the company of herwho was now but a shadow and a recollection. Tears streamed from myeyes. The rain had ceased for a moment, and I saw the fish play in thewaters as they had done a few hours before; they had then been observedby Elizabeth. Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great andsudden change. The sun might shine or the clouds might lower, butnothing could appear to me as it had done the day before. A fiend hadsnatched from me every hope of future happiness; no creature had everbeen so miserable as I was; so frightful an event is single in thehistory of man. But why should I dwell upon the incidents that followedthis last overwhelming event? Mine has been a tale of horrors; I havereached their acme, and what I must now relate can but be tedious toyou. Know that, one by one, my friends were snatched away; I was leftdesolate. My own strength is exhausted, and I must tell, in a fewwords, what remains of my hideous narration. I arrived at Geneva. Myfather and Ernest yet lived, but the former sunk under the tidings thatI bore. I see him now, excellent and venerable old man! His eyeswandered in vacancy, for they had lost their charm and theirdelight—his Elizabeth, his more than daughter, whom he doted on withall 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 anddoomed him to waste in wretchedness! He could not live under thehorrors that were accumulated around him; the springs of existencesuddenly gave way; he was unable to rise from his bed, and in a fewdays he died in my arms.

What then became of me? I know not; I lost sensation, and chains anddarkness were the only objects that pressed upon me. Sometimes,indeed, I dreamt that I wandered in flowery meadows and pleasant valeswith the friends of my youth, but I awoke and found myself in adungeon. Melancholy followed, but by degrees I gained a clearconception of my miseries and situation and was then released from myprison. For they had called me mad, and during many months, as Iunderstood, a solitary cell had been my habitation.

Liberty, however, had been a useless gift to me, had I not, as Iawakened to reason, at the same time awakened to revenge. As thememory of past misfortunes pressed upon me, I began to reflect on theircause—the monster whom I had created, the miserable daemon whom I hadsent abroad into the world for my destruction. I was possessed by amaddening rage when I thought of him, and desired and ardently prayedthat I might have him within my grasp to wreak a great and signalrevenge on his cursed head.

Nor did my hate long confine itself to useless wishes; I began toreflect on the best means of securing him; and for this purpose, abouta month after my release, I repaired to a criminal judge in the townand told him that I had an accusation to make, that I knew thedestroyer of my family, and that I required him to exert his wholeauthority for the apprehension of the murderer. The magistratelistened to me with attention and kindness.

"Be assured, sir," said he, "no pains or exertions on my part shall bespared to discover the villain."

"I thank you," replied I; "listen, therefore, to the deposition that Ihave to make. It is indeed a tale so strange that I should fear youwould not credit it were there not something in truth which, howeverwonderful, forces conviction. The story is too connected to bemistaken for a dream, and I have no motive for falsehood." My manner asI thus addressed him was impressive but calm; I had formed in my ownheart a resolution to pursue my destroyer to death, and this purposequieted my agony and for an interval reconciled me to life. I nowrelated my history briefly but with firmness and precision, marking thedates with accuracy and never deviating into invective or exclamation.

The magistrate appeared at first perfectly incredulous, but as Icontinued he became more attentive and interested; I saw him sometimesshudder with horror; at others a lively surprise, unmingled withdisbelief, was painted on his countenance. When I had concluded mynarration I said, "This is the being whom I accuse and for whoseseizure and punishment I call upon you to exert your whole power. Itis your duty as a magistrate, and I believe and hope that your feelingsas a man will not revolt from the execution of those functions on thisoccasion." This address caused a considerable change in thephysiognomy of my own auditor. He had heard my story with that halfkind of belief that is given to a tale of spirits and supernaturalevents; but when he was called upon to act officially in consequence,the whole tide of his incredulity returned. He, however, answeredmildly, "I would willingly afford you every aid in your pursuit, butthe creature of whom you speak appears to have powers which would putall my exertions to defiance. Who can follow an animal which cantraverse the sea of ice and inhabit caves and dens where no man wouldventure to intrude? Besides, some months have elapsed since thecommission of his crimes, and no one can conjecture to what place hehas wandered or what region he may now inhabit."

"I do not doubt that he hovers near the spot which I inhabit, and if hehas indeed taken refuge in the Alps, he may be hunted like the chamoisand destroyed as a beast of prey. But I perceive your thoughts; you donot credit my narrative and do not intend to pursue my enemy with thepunishment which is his desert." As I spoke, rage sparkled in my eyes;the magistrate was intimidated. "You are mistaken," said he. "I willexert myself, and if it is in my power to seize the monster, be assuredthat he shall suffer punishment proportionate to his crimes. But Ifear, from what you have yourself described to be his properties, thatthis will prove impracticable; and thus, while every proper measure ispursued, you should make up your mind to disappointment."

"That cannot be; but all that I can say will be of little avail. Myrevenge is of no moment to you; yet, while I allow it to be a vice, Iconfess that it is the devouring and only passion of my soul. My rageis unspeakable when I reflect that the murderer, whom I have turnedloose upon society, still exists. You refuse my just demand; I havebut one resource, and I devote myself, either in my life or death, tohis destruction."

I trembled with excess of agitation as I said this; there was a frenzyin my manner, and something, I doubt not, of that haughty fiercenesswhich the martyrs of old are said to have possessed. But to a Genevanmagistrate, whose mind was occupied by far other ideas than those ofdevotion and heroism, this elevation of mind had much the appearance ofmadness. He endeavoured to soothe me as a nurse does a child andreverted 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 onsome other mode of action.

Chapter 24

My present situation was one in which all voluntary thought wasswallowed up and lost. I was hurried away by fury; revenge aloneendowed me with strength and composure; it moulded my feelings andallowed me to be calculating and calm at periods when otherwisedelirium or death would have been my portion.

My first resolution was to quit Geneva forever; my country, which, whenI was happy and beloved, was dear to me, now, in my adversity, becamehateful. I provided myself with a sum of money, together with a fewjewels which had belonged to my mother, and departed. And now mywanderings began which are to cease but with life. I have traversed avast portion of the earth and have endured all the hardships whichtravellers in deserts and barbarous countries are wont to meet. How Ihave lived I hardly know; many times have I stretched my failing limbsupon 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 Imight trace the steps of my fiendish enemy. But my plan was unsettled,and I wandered many hours round the confines of the town, uncertainwhat path I should pursue. As night approached I found myself at theentrance of the cemetery where William, Elizabeth, and my fatherreposed. I entered it and approached the tomb which marked theirgraves. Everything was silent except the leaves of the trees, whichwere gently agitated by the wind; the night was nearly dark, and thescene would have been solemn and affecting even to an uninterestedobserver. The spirits of the departed seemed to flit around and tocast a shadow, which was felt but not seen, around the head of themourner.

The deep grief which this scene had at first excited quickly gave wayto rage and despair. They were dead, and I lived; their murderer alsolived, and to destroy him I must drag out my weary existence. I knelton the grass and kissed the earth and with quivering lips exclaimed,"By the sacred earth on which I kneel, by the shades that wander nearme, by the deep and eternal grief that I feel, I swear; and by thee, ONight, and the spirits that preside over thee, to pursue the daemon whocaused this misery, until he or I shall perish in mortal conflict. Forthis purpose I will preserve my life; to execute this dear revenge willI again behold the sun and tread the green herbage of earth, whichotherwise should vanish from my eyes forever. And I call on you,spirits of the dead, and on you, wandering ministers of vengeance, toaid and conduct me in my work. Let the cursed and hellish monsterdrink deep of agony; let him feel the despair that now torments me." Ihad begun my adjuration with solemnity and an awe which almost assuredme that the shades of my murdered friends heard and approved mydevotion, but the furies possessed me as I concluded, and rage chokedmy utterance.

I was answered through the stillness of night by a loud and fiendishlaugh. It rang on my ears long and heavily; the mountains re-echoedit, 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 havedestroyed my miserable existence but that my vow was heard and that Iwas reserved for vengeance. The laughter died away, when a well-knownand abhorred voice, apparently close to my ear, addressed me in anaudible whisper, "I am satisfied, miserable wretch! You havedetermined to live, and I am satisfied."

I darted towards the spot from which the sound proceeded, but the devileluded my grasp. Suddenly the broad disk of the moon arose and shonefull upon his ghastly and distorted shape as he fled with more thanmortal speed.

I pursued him, and for many months this has been my task. Guided by aslight clue, I followed the windings of the Rhone, but vainly. Theblue Mediterranean appeared, and by a strange chance, I saw the fiendenter by night and hide himself in a vessel bound for the Black Sea. Itook 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, Ihave ever followed in his track. Sometimes the peasants, scared bythis 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 sawthe print of his huge step on the white plain. To you first enteringon life, to whom care is new and agony unknown, how can you understandwhat I have felt and still feel? Cold, want, and fatigue were theleast pains which I was destined to endure; I was cursed by some deviland carried about with me my eternal hell; yet still a spirit of goodfollowed and directed my steps and when I most murmured would suddenlyextricate me from seemingly insurmountable difficulties. Sometimes,when nature, overcome by hunger, sank under the exhaustion, a repastwas prepared for me in the desert that restored and inspirited me. Thefare was, indeed, coarse, such as the peasants of the country ate, butI will not doubt that it was set there by the spirits that I hadinvoked to aid me. Often, when all was dry, the heavens cloudless, andI was parched by thirst, a slight cloud would bedim the sky, shed thefew drops that revived me, and vanish.

I followed, when I could, the courses of the rivers; but the daemongenerally avoided these, as it was here that the population of thecountry chiefly collected. In other places human beings were seldomseen, and I generally subsisted on the wild animals that crossed mypath. I had money with me and gained the friendship of the villagersby 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 hadprovided me with fire and utensils for cooking.

My life, as it passed thus, was indeed hateful to me, and it was duringsleep alone that I could taste joy. O blessed sleep! Often, when mostmiserable, I sank to repose, and my dreams lulled me even to rapture.The spirits that guarded me had provided these moments, or ratherhours, of happiness that I might retain strength to fulfil mypilgrimage. Deprived of this respite, I should have sunk under myhardships. During the day I was sustained and inspirited by the hopeof night, for in sleep I saw my friends, my wife, and my belovedcountry; again I saw the benevolent countenance of my father, heard thesilver tones of my Elizabeth's voice, and beheld Clerval enjoyinghealth and youth. Often, when wearied by a toilsome march, I persuadedmyself that I was dreaming until night should come and that I shouldthen enjoy reality in the arms of my dearest friends. What agonizingfondness did I feel for them! How did I cling to their dear forms, assometimes they haunted even my waking hours, and persuade myself thatthey still lived! At such moments vengeance, that burned within me,died in my heart, and I pursued my path towards the destruction of thedaemon more as a task enjoined by heaven, as the mechanical impulse ofsome power of which I was unconscious, than as the ardent desire of mysoul. 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 instone that guided me and instigated my fury. "My reign is not yetover"—these words were legible in one of these inscriptions—"youlive, and my power is complete. Follow me; I seek the everlasting icesof the north, where you will feel the misery of cold and frost, towhich I am impassive. You will find near this place, if you follow nottoo tardily, a dead hare; eat and be refreshed. Come on, my enemy; wehave yet to wrestle for our lives, but many hard and miserable hoursmust 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 searchuntil he or I perish; and then with what ecstasy shall I join myElizabeth and my departed friends, who even now prepare for me thereward of my tedious toil and horrible pilgrimage!

As I still pursued my journey to the northward, the snows thickened andthe cold increased in a degree almost too severe to support. Thepeasants were shut up in their hovels, and only a few of the most hardyventured forth to seize the animals whom starvation had forced fromtheir hiding-places to seek for prey. The rivers were covered withice, and no fish could be procured; and thus I was cut off from mychief article of maintenance. The triumph of my enemy increased withthe difficulty of my labours. One inscription that he left was inthese words: "Prepare! Your toils only begin; wrap yourself in fursand provide food, for we shall soon enter upon a journey where yoursufferings will satisfy my everlasting hatred."

My courage and perseverance were invigorated by these scoffing words; Iresolved not to fail in my purpose, and calling on heaven to supportme, I continued with unabated fervour to traverse immense deserts,until the ocean appeared at a distance and formed the utmost boundaryof the horizon. Oh! How unlike it was to the blue seasons of thesouth! Covered with ice, it was only to be distinguished from land byits superior wildness and ruggedness. The Greeks wept for joy whenthey beheld the Mediterranean from the hills of Asia, and hailed withrapture the boundary of their toils. I did not weep, but I knelt downand with a full heart thanked my guiding spirit for conducting me insafety 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 thustraversed the snows with inconceivable speed. I know not whether thefiend possessed the same advantages, but I found that, as before I haddaily lost ground in the pursuit, I now gained on him, so much so thatwhen I first saw the ocean he was but one day's journey in advance, andI hoped to intercept him before he should reach the beach. With newcourage, therefore, I pressed on, and in two days arrived at a wretchedhamlet on the seashore. I inquired of the inhabitants concerning thefiend 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 ofhis terrific appearance. He had carried off their store of winterfood, and placing it in a sledge, to draw which he had seized on anumerous drove of trained dogs, he had harnessed them, and the samenight, to the joy of the horror-struck villagers, had pursued hisjourney across the sea in a direction that led to no land; and theyconjectured that he must speedily be destroyed by the breaking of theice 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 endlessjourney across the mountainous ices of the ocean, amidst cold that fewof the inhabitants could long endure and which I, the native of agenial and sunny climate, could not hope to survive. Yet at the ideathat the fiend should live and be triumphant, my rage and vengeancereturned, and like a mighty tide, overwhelmed every other feeling.After a slight repose, during which the spirits of the dead hoveredround and instigated me to toil and revenge, I prepared for my journey.I exchanged my land-sledge for one fashioned for the inequalities ofthe frozen ocean, and purchasing a plentiful stock of provisions, Ideparted from land.

I cannot guess how many days have passed since then, but I have enduredmisery which nothing but the eternal sentiment of a just retributionburning within my heart could have enabled me to support. Immense andrugged mountains of ice often barred up my passage, and I often heardthe thunder of the ground sea, which threatened my destruction. Butagain the frost came and made the paths of the sea secure.

By the quantity of provision which I had consumed, I should guess thatI had passed three weeks in this journey; and the continual protractionof hope, returning back upon the heart, often wrung bitter drops ofdespondency and grief from my eyes. Despair had indeed almost securedher prey, and I should soon have sunk beneath this misery. Once, afterthe poor animals that conveyed me had with incredible toil gained thesummit of a sloping ice mountain, and one, sinking under his fatigue,died, I viewed the expanse before me with anguish, when suddenly my eyecaught a dark speck upon the dusky plain. I strained my sight todiscover what it could be and uttered a wild cry of ecstasy when Idistinguished a sledge and the distorted proportions of a well-knownform within. Oh! With what a burning gush did hope revisit my heart!Warm tears filled my eyes, which I hastily wiped away, that they mightnot intercept the view I had of the daemon; but still my sight wasdimmed by the burning drops, until, giving way to the emotions thatoppressed me, I wept aloud.

But this was not the time for delay; I disencumbered the dogs of theirdead companion, gave them a plentiful portion of food, and after anhour's rest, which was absolutely necessary, and yet which was bitterlyirksome to me, I continued my route. The sledge was still visible, nordid I again lose sight of it except at the moments when for a shorttime some ice-rock concealed it with its intervening crags. I indeedperceptibly gained on it, and when, after nearly two days' journey, Ibeheld my enemy at no more than a mile distant, my heart bounded withinme.

But now, when I appeared almost within grasp of my foe, my hopes weresuddenly extinguished, and I lost all trace of him more utterly than Ihad ever done before. A ground sea was heard; the thunder of itsprogress, as the waters rolled and swelled beneath me, became everymoment more ominous and terrific. I pressed on, but in vain. The windarose; the sea roared; and, as with the mighty shock of an earthquake,it split and cracked with a tremendous and overwhelming sound. Thework was soon finished; in a few minutes a tumultuous sea rolledbetween me and my enemy, and I was left drifting on a scattered pieceof ice that was continually lessening and thus preparing for me ahideous death. In this manner many appalling hours passed; several ofmy dogs died, and I myself was about to sink under the accumulation ofdistress when I saw your vessel riding at anchor and holding forth tome hopes of succour and life. I had no conception that vessels evercame so far north and was astounded at the sight. I quickly destroyedpart of my sledge to construct oars, and by these means was enabled,with infinite fatigue, to move my ice raft in the direction of yourship. I had determined, if you were going southwards, still to trustmyself to the mercy of the seas rather than abandon my purpose. Ihoped to induce you to grant me a boat with which I could pursue myenemy. But your direction was northwards. You took me on board whenmy vigour was exhausted, and I should soon have sunk under mymultiplied hardships into a death which I still dread, for my task isunfulfilled.

Oh! When will my guiding spirit, in conducting me to the daemon, allowme 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 himand satisfy my vengeance in his death. And do I dare to ask of you toundertake 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, ifthe ministers of vengeance should conduct him to you, swear that heshall not live—swear that he shall not triumph over my accumulatedwoes and survive to add to the list of his dark crimes. He is eloquentand persuasive, and once his words had even power over my heart; buttrust him not. His soul is as hellish as his form, full of treacheryand fiend-like malice. Hear him not; call on the names of William,Justine, Clerval, Elizabeth, my father, and of the wretched Victor, andthrust your sword into his heart. I will hover near and direct thesteel aright.

You have read this strange and terrific story, Margaret; and do you notfeel your blood congeal with horror, like that which even now curdlesmine? Sometimes, seized with sudden agony, he could not continue histale; at others, his voice broken, yet piercing, uttered withdifficulty the words so replete with anguish. His fine and lovely eyeswere now lighted up with indignation, now subdued to downcast sorrowand quenched in infinite wretchedness. Sometimes he commanded hiscountenance and tones and related the most horrible incidents with atranquil voice, suppressing every mark of agitation; then, like avolcano bursting forth, his face would suddenly change to an expressionof the wildest rage as he shrieked out imprecations on his persecutor.

His tale is connected and told with an appearance of the simplesttruth, yet I own to you that the letters of Felix and Safie, which heshowed me, and the apparition of the monster seen from our ship,brought to me a greater conviction of the truth of his narrative thanhis asseverations, however earnest and connected. Such a monster has,then, really existence! I cannot doubt it, yet I am lost in surpriseand admiration. Sometimes I endeavoured to gain from Frankenstein theparticulars of his creature's formation, but on this point he wasimpenetrable. "Are you mad, my friend?" said he. "Or whither does yoursenseless curiosity lead you? Would you also create for yourself andthe world a demoniacal enemy? Peace, peace! Learn my miseries and donot seek to increase your own." Frankenstein discovered that I madenotes concerning his history; he asked to see them and then himselfcorrected and augmented them in many places, but principally in givingthe life and spirit to the conversations he held with his enemy. "Sinceyou have preserved my narration," said he, "I would not that amutilated one should go down to posterity."

Thus has a week passed away, while I have listened to the strangesttale that ever imagination formed. My thoughts and every feeling of mysoul have been drunk up by the interest for my guest which this taleand his own elevated and gentle manners have created. I wish to soothehim, yet can I counsel one so infinitely miserable, so destitute ofevery hope of consolation, to live? Oh, no! The only joy that he cannow know will be when he composes his shattered spirit to peace anddeath. Yet he enjoys one comfort, the offspring of solitude anddelirium; he believes that when in dreams he holds converse with hisfriends and derives from that communion consolation for his miseries orexcitements to his vengeance, that they are not the creations of hisfancy, but the beings themselves who visit him from the regions of aremote world. This faith gives a solemnity to his reveries that renderthem to me almost as imposing and interesting as truth.

Our conversations are not always confined to his own history andmisfortunes. On every point of general literature he displaysunbounded knowledge and a quick and piercing apprehension. Hiseloquence is forcible and touching; nor can I hear him, when he relatesa pathetic incident or endeavours to move the passions of pity or love,without tears. What a glorious creature must he have been in the daysof his prosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike in ruin! He seemsto feel his own worth and the greatness of his fall.

"When younger," said he, "I believed myself destined for some greatenterprise. My feelings are profound, but I possessed a coolness ofjudgment that fitted me for illustrious achievements. This sentimentof the worth of my nature supported me when others would have beenoppressed, for I deemed it criminal to throw away in useless griefthose talents that might be useful to my fellow creatures. When Ireflected on the work I had completed, no less a one than the creationof a sensitive and rational animal, I could not rank myself with theherd of common projectors. But this thought, which supported me in thecommencement of my career, now serves only to plunge me lower in thedust. All my speculations and hopes are as nothing, and like thearchangel who aspired to omnipotence, I am chained in an eternal hell.My imagination was vivid, yet my powers of analysis and applicationwere intense; by the union of these qualities I conceived the idea andexecuted the creation of a man. Even now I cannot recollect withoutpassion my reveries while the work was incomplete. I trod heaven in mythoughts, now exulting in my powers, now burning with the idea of theireffects. From my infancy I was imbued with high hopes and a loftyambition; but how am I sunk! Oh! My friend, if you had known me as Ionce was, you would not recognize me in this state of degradation.Despondency rarely visited my heart; a high destiny seemed to bear meon, until I fell, never, never again to rise." Must I then lose thisadmirable being? I have longed for a friend; I have sought one whowould sympathize with and love me. Behold, on these desert seas I havefound such a one, but I fear I have gained him only to know his valueand lose him. I would reconcile him to life, but he repulses the idea.

"I thank you, Walton," he said, "for your kind intentions towards somiserable a wretch; but when you speak of new ties and freshaffections, think you that any can replace those who are gone? Can anyman be to me as Clerval was, or any woman another Elizabeth? Evenwhere the affections are not strongly moved by any superior excellence,the companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over ourminds which hardly any later friend can obtain. They know ourinfantine dispositions, which, however they may be afterwards modified,are never eradicated; and they can judge of our actions with morecertain conclusions as to the integrity of our motives. A sister or abrother 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, becontemplated with suspicion. But I enjoyed friends, dear not onlythrough habit and association, but from their own merits; and whereverI am, the soothing voice of my Elizabeth and the conversation ofClerval will be ever whispered in my ear. They are dead, and but onefeeling in such a solitude can persuade me to preserve my life. If Iwere engaged in any high undertaking or design, fraught with extensiveutility to my fellow creatures, then could I live to fulfil it. Butsuch is not my destiny; I must pursue and destroy the being to whom Igave existence; then my lot on earth will be fulfilled and I may die."

I write to you, encompassed by peril and ignorant whether I am everdoomed to see again dear England and the dearer friends that inhabitit. I am surrounded by mountains of ice which admit of no escape andthreaten every moment to crush my vessel. The brave fellows whom Ihave persuaded to be my companions look towards me for aid, but I havenone to bestow. There is something terribly appalling in oursituation, yet my courage and hopes do not desert me. Yet it isterrible to reflect that the lives of all these men are endangeredthrough me. If we are lost, my mad schemes are the cause.

And what, Margaret, will be the state of your mind? You will not hearof my destruction, and you will anxiously await my return. Years willpass, and you will have visitings of despair and yet be tortured byhope. Oh! My beloved sister, the sickening failing of your heart-feltexpectations is, in prospect, more terrible to me than my own death.

But you have a husband and lovely children; you may be happy. Heavenbless you and make you so!

My unfortunate guest regards me with the tenderest compassion. Heendeavours to fill me with hope and talks as if life were a possessionwhich he valued. He reminds me how often the same accidents havehappened to other navigators who have attempted this sea, and in spiteof myself, he fills me with cheerful auguries. Even the sailors feelthe power of his eloquence; when he speaks, they no longer despair; herouses their energies, and while they hear his voice they believe thesevast mountains of ice are mole-hills which will vanish before theresolutions of man. These feelings are transitory; each day ofexpectation delayed fills them with fear, and I almost dread a mutinycaused by this despair.

September 5th

A scene has just passed of such uncommon interest that, although it ishighly probable that these papers may never reach you, yet I cannotforbear recording it.

We are still surrounded by mountains of ice, still in imminent dangerof being crushed in their conflict. The cold is excessive, and many ofmy unfortunate comrades have already found a grave amidst this scene ofdesolation. Frankenstein has daily declined in health; a feverish firestill glimmers in his eyes, but he is exhausted, and when suddenlyroused to any exertion, he speedily sinks again into apparentlifelessness.

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—hiseyes half closed and his limbs hanging listlessly—I was roused by halfa dozen of the sailors, who demanded admission into the cabin. Theyentered, and their leader addressed me. He told me that he and hiscompanions had been chosen by the other sailors to come in deputationto me to make me a requisition which, in justice, I could not refuse.We were immured in ice and should probably never escape, but theyfeared that if, as was possible, the ice should dissipate and a freepassage be opened, I should be rash enough to continue my voyage andlead them into fresh dangers, after they might happily have surmountedthis. They insisted, therefore, that I should engage with a solemnpromise that if the vessel should be freed I would instantly direct mycourse southwards.

This speech troubled me. I had not despaired, nor had I yet conceivedthe idea of returning if set free. Yet could I, in justice, or even inpossibility, refuse this demand? I hesitated before I answered, whenFrankenstein, who had at first been silent, and indeed appeared hardlyto 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? Areyou, then, so easily turned from your design? Did you not call this aglorious expedition?

"And wherefore was it glorious? Not because the way was smooth andplacid as a southern sea, but because it was full of dangers andterror, because at every new incident your fortitude was to be calledforth and your courage exhibited, because danger and death surroundedit, and these you were to brave and overcome. For this was it aglorious, for this was it an honourable undertaking. You werehereafter to be hailed as the benefactors of your species, your namesadored as belonging to brave men who encountered death for honour andthe benefit of mankind. And now, behold, with the first imagination ofdanger, or, if you will, the first mighty and terrific trial of yourcourage, you shrink away and are content to be handed down as men whohad not strength enough to endure cold and peril; and so, poor souls,they were chilly and returned to their warm firesides. Why, thatrequires not this preparation; ye need not have come thus far anddragged your captain to the shame of a defeat merely to proveyourselves cowards. Oh! Be men, or be more than men. Be steady toyour purposes and firm as a rock. This ice is not made of such stuff asyour hearts may be; it is mutable and cannot withstand you if you saythat it shall not. Do not return to your families with the stigma ofdisgrace marked on your brows. Return as heroes who have fought andconquered 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 feelingsexpressed in his speech, with an eye so full of lofty design andheroism, that can you wonder that these men were moved? They looked atone another and were unable to reply. I spoke; I told them to retireand consider of what had been said, that I would not lead them farthernorth if they strenuously desired the contrary, but that I hoped that,with reflection, their courage would return. They retired and I turnedtowards my friend, but he was sunk in languor and almost deprived oflife.

How all this will terminate, I know not, but I had rather die thanreturn shamefully, my purpose unfulfilled. Yet I fear such will be myfate; the men, unsupported by ideas of glory and honour, can neverwillingly 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 backignorant and disappointed. It requires more philosophy than I possessto bear this injustice with patience.

September 12th

It is past; I am returning to England. I have lost my hopes of utilityand glory; I have lost my friend. But I will endeavour to detail thesebitter circ*mstances to you, my dear sister; and while I am waftedtowards England and towards you, I will not despond.

September 9th, the ice began to move, and roarings like thunder wereheard at a distance as the islands split and cracked in everydirection. We were in the most imminent peril, but as we could onlyremain passive, my chief attention was occupied by my unfortunate guestwhose illness increased in such a degree that he was entirely confinedto his bed. The ice cracked behind us and was driven with forcetowards the north; a breeze sprang from the west, and on the 11th thepassage towards the south became perfectly free. When the sailors sawthis and that their return to their native country was apparentlyassured, a shout of tumultuous joy broke from them, loud andlong-continued. Frankenstein, who was dozing, awoke and asked thecause of the tumult. "They shout," I said, "because they will soonreturn to England."

"Do you, then, really return?"

"Alas! Yes; I cannot withstand their demands. I cannot lead themunwillingly to danger, and I must return."

"Do so, if you will; but I will not. You may give up your purpose, butmine is assigned to me by heaven, and I dare not. I am weak, butsurely the spirits who assist my vengeance will endow me withsufficient strength." Saying this, he endeavoured to spring from thebed, 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 wasentirely extinct. At length he opened his eyes; he breathed withdifficulty and was unable to speak. The surgeon gave him a composingdraught and ordered us to leave him undisturbed. In the meantime hetold me that my friend had certainly not many hours to live.

His sentence was pronounced, and I could only grieve and be patient. Isat by his bed, watching him; his eyes were closed, and I thought heslept; but presently he called to me in a feeble voice, and bidding mecome near, said, "Alas! The strength I relied on is gone; I feel thatI shall soon die, and he, my enemy and persecutor, may still be inbeing. Think not, Walton, that in the last moments of my existence Ifeel 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 pastconduct; nor do I find it blamable. In a fit of enthusiastic madness Icreated a rational creature and was bound towards him to assure, as faras was in my power, his happiness and well-being.

"This was my duty, but there was another still paramount to that. Myduties towards the beings of my own species had greater claims to myattention because they included a greater proportion of happiness ormisery. Urged by this view, I refused, and I did right in refusing, tocreate a companion for the first creature. He showed unparalleledmalignity and selfishness in evil; he destroyed my friends; he devotedto 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 todie. The task of his destruction was mine, but I have failed. Whenactuated by selfish and vicious motives, I asked you to undertake myunfinished work, and I renew this request now, when I am only inducedby reason and virtue.

"Yet I cannot ask you to renounce your country and friends to fulfilthis task; and now that you are returning to England, you will havelittle chance of meeting with him. But the consideration of thesepoints, and the well balancing of what you may esteem your duties, Ileave to you; my judgment and ideas are already disturbed by the nearapproach of death. I dare not ask you to do what I think right, for Imay still be misled by passion.

"That he should live to be an instrument of mischief disturbs me; inother respects, this hour, when I momentarily expect my release, is theonly happy one which I have enjoyed for several years. The forms ofthe beloved dead flit before me, and I hasten to their arms. Farewell,Walton! Seek happiness in tranquillity and avoid ambition, even if itbe only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself inscience and discoveries. Yet why do I say this? I have myself beenblasted in these hopes, yet another may succeed."

His voice became fainter as he spoke, and at length, exhausted by hiseffort, he sank into silence. About half an hour afterwards heattempted again to speak but was unable; he pressed my hand feebly, andhis eyes closed forever, while the irradiation of a gentle smile passedaway from his lips.

Margaret, what comment can I make on the untimely extinction of thisglorious spirit? What can I say that will enable you to understand thedepth of my sorrow? All that I should express would be inadequate andfeeble. My tears flow; my mind is overshadowed by a cloud ofdisappointment. But I journey towards England, and I may there findconsolation.

I am interrupted. What do these sounds portend? It is midnight; thebreeze blows fairly, and the watch on deck scarcely stir. Again thereis a sound as of a human voice, but hoarser; it comes from the cabinwhere 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 theremembrance of it. I hardly know whether I shall have the power todetail it; yet the tale which I have recorded would be incompletewithout this final and wonderful catastrophe. I entered the cabin wherelay the remains of my ill-fated and admirable friend. Over him hung aform which I cannot find words to describe—gigantic in stature, yetuncouth and distorted in its proportions. As he hung over the coffin,his face was concealed by long locks of ragged hair; but one vast handwas extended, in colour and apparent texture like that of a mummy. Whenhe heard the sound of my approach, he ceased to utter exclamations ofgrief and horror and sprung towards the window. Never did I behold avision so horrible as his face, of such loathsome yet appallinghideousness. I shut my eyes involuntarily and endeavoured to recollectwhat were my duties with regard to this destroyer. I called on him tostay.

He paused, looking on me with wonder, and again turning towards thelifeless form of his creator, he seemed to forget my presence, andevery feature and gesture seemed instigated by the wildest rage of someuncontrollable passion.

"That is also my victim!" he exclaimed. "In his murder my crimes areconsummated; the miserable series of my being is wound to its close!Oh, Frankenstein! Generous and self-devoted being! What does it availthat I now ask thee to pardon me? I, who irretrievably destroyed theeby destroying all thou lovedst. Alas! He is cold, he cannot answerme." His voice seemed suffocated, and my first impulses, which hadsuggested to me the duty of obeying the dying request of my friend indestroying his enemy, were now suspended by a mixture of curiosity andcompassion. I approached this tremendous being; I dared not againraise my eyes to his face, there was something so scaring and unearthlyin his ugliness. I attempted to speak, but the words died away on mylips. The monster continued to utter wild and incoherentself-reproaches. At length I gathered resolution to address him in apause of the tempest of his passion.

"Your repentance," I said, "is now superfluous. If you had listened tothe voice of conscience and heeded the stings of remorse before you hadurged your diabolical vengeance to this extremity, Frankenstein wouldyet have lived."

"And do you dream?" said the daemon. "Do you think that I was thendead to agony and remorse? He," he continued, pointing to the corpse,"he suffered not in the consummation of the deed. Oh! Not theten-thousandth portion of the anguish that was mine during thelingering detail of its execution. A frightful selfishness hurried meon, while my heart was poisoned with remorse. Think you that thegroans of Clerval were music to my ears? My heart was fashioned to besusceptible of love and sympathy, and when wrenched by misery to viceand hatred, it did not endure the violence of the change withouttorture such as you cannot even imagine.

"After the murder of Clerval I returned to Switzerland, heart-brokenand overcome. I pitied Frankenstein; my pity amounted to horror; Iabhorred myself. But when I discovered that he, the author at once ofmy existence and of its unspeakable torments, dared to hope forhappiness, that while he accumulated wretchedness and despair upon mehe sought his own enjoyment in feelings and passions from theindulgence of which I was forever barred, then impotent envy and bitterindignation filled me with an insatiable thirst for vengeance. Irecollected my threat and resolved that it should be accomplished. Iknew that I was preparing for myself a deadly torture, but I was theslave, not the master, of an impulse which I detested yet could notdisobey. Yet when she died! Nay, then I was not miserable. I hadcast off all feeling, subdued all anguish, to riot in the excess of mydespair. Evil thenceforth became my good. Urged thus far, I had nochoice but to adapt my nature to an element which I had willinglychosen. The completion of my demoniacal design became an insatiablepassion. And now it is ended; there is my last victim!"

I was at first touched by the expressions of his misery; yet, when Icalled to mind what Frankenstein had said of his powers of eloquenceand persuasion, and when I again cast my eyes on the lifeless form ofmy friend, indignation was rekindled within me. "Wretch!" I said. "Itis well that you come here to whine over the desolation that you havemade. You throw a torch into a pile of buildings, and when they areconsumed, you sit among the ruins and lament the fall. Hypocriticalfiend! 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 notpity that you feel; you lament only because the victim of yourmalignity is withdrawn from your power."

"Oh, it is not thus—not thus," interrupted the being. "Yet such mustbe the impression conveyed to you by what appears to be the purport ofmy actions. Yet I seek not a fellow feeling in my misery. No sympathymay I ever find. When I first sought it, it was the love of virtue,the feelings of happiness and affection with which my whole beingoverflowed, that I wished to be participated. But now that virtue hasbecome to me a shadow, and that happiness and affection are turned intobitter and loathing despair, in what should I seek for sympathy? I amcontent to suffer alone while my sufferings shall endure; when I die, Iam well satisfied that abhorrence and opprobrium should load my memory.Once my fancy was soothed with dreams of virtue, of fame, and ofenjoyment. Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings who, pardoning myoutward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I wascapable of unfolding. I was nourished with high thoughts of honour anddevotion. But now crime has degraded me beneath the meanest animal. Noguilt, no mischief, no malignity, no misery, can be found comparable tomine. When I run over the frightful catalogue of my sins, I cannotbelieve that I am the same creature whose thoughts were once filledwith sublime and transcendent visions of the beauty and the majesty ofgoodness. But it is even so; the fallen angel becomes a malignantdevil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associatesin his desolation; I am alone.

"You, who call Frankenstein your friend, seem to have a knowledge of mycrimes and his misfortunes. But in the detail which he gave you of themhe could not sum up the hours and months of misery which I enduredwasting in impotent passions. For while I destroyed his hopes, I didnot satisfy my own desires. They were forever ardent and craving; stillI desired love and fellowship, and I was still spurned. Was there noinjustice in this? Am I to be thought the only criminal, when allhumankind sinned against me? Why do you not hate Felix, who drove hisfriend from his door with contumely? Why do you not execrate the rusticwho sought to destroy the saviour of his child? Nay, these are virtuousand immaculate beings! I, the miserable and the abandoned, am anabortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on. Even now myblood boils at the recollection of this injustice.

"But it is true that I am a wretch. I have murdered the lovely and thehelpless; I have strangled the innocent as they slept and grasped todeath his throat who never injured me or any other living thing. Ihave devoted my creator, the select specimen of all that is worthy oflove and admiration among men, to misery; I have pursued him even tothat irremediable ruin.

"There he lies, white and cold in death. You hate me, but yourabhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself. I look on thehands which executed the deed; I think on the heart in which theimagination of it was conceived and long for the moment when thesehands will meet my eyes, when that imagination will haunt my thoughtsno more.

"Fear not that I shall be the instrument of future mischief. My workis nearly complete. Neither yours nor any man's death is needed toconsummate the series of my being and accomplish that which must bedone, but it requires my own. Do not think that I shall be slow toperform this sacrifice. I shall quit your vessel on the ice raft whichbrought me thither and shall seek the most northern extremity of theglobe; I shall collect my funeral pile and consume to ashes thismiserable frame, that its remains may afford no light to any curiousand unhallowed wretch who would create such another as I have been. Ishall die. I shall no longer feel the agonies which now consume me orbe the prey of feelings unsatisfied, yet unquenched. He is dead whocalled me into being; and when I shall be no more, the very remembranceof us both will speedily vanish. I shall no longer see the sun orstars or feel the winds play on my cheeks.

"Light, feeling, and sense will pass away; and in this condition must Ifind my happiness. Some years ago, when the images which this worldaffords first opened upon me, when I felt the cheering warmth of summerand heard the rustling of the leaves and the warbling of the birds, andthese were all to me, I should have wept to die; now it is my onlyconsolation. 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 theseeyes will ever behold. Farewell, Frankenstein! If thou wert yet aliveand yet cherished a desire of revenge against me, it would be bettersatiated in my life than in my destruction. But it was not so; thoudidst seek my extinction, that I might not cause greater wretchedness;and if yet, in some mode unknown to me, thou hadst not ceased to thinkand feel, thou wouldst not desire against me a vengeance greater thanthat which I feel. Blasted as thou wert, my agony was still superior tothine, for the bitter sting of remorse will not cease to rankle in mywounds until death shall close them forever.

"But soon," he cried with sad and solemn enthusiasm, "I shall die, andwhat I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will beextinct. I shall ascend my funeral pile triumphantly and exult in theagony of the torturing flames. The light of that conflagration willfade away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spiritwill 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 raftwhich lay close to the vessel. He was soon borne away by the waves andlost in darkness and distance.

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