Yesterday the stranger said to me, "You may easily perceive, Capt.
Walton, that I have suffered great and unparallelled misfortunes. My
fate is nearly fulfilled. I wait but for one event, and then I shall
repose in peace. Listen to my history, and you will perceive how
irrevocably my destiny is determined."
_II.--Frankenstein's Story_
I am by birth a Genevese; and my family is one of the most distinguished
of that republic. My father has filled several public situations with
honour and reputation. He passed his younger days perpetually occupied
by the affairs of his country, and it was not until the decline of life
that he became a husband and the father of a family.
When I was about five years old, my mother, whose benevolent disposition
often made her enter the cottages of the poor, brought to our house a
child fairer than pictured cherub, an orphan whom she found in a
peasant's hut; the infant daughter of a nobleman who had died fighting
for Italy. Thus Elizabeth became the inmate of my parents' house. Every
one loved her, and I looked upon Elizabeth as mine, to protect, love,
and cherish. We called each other familiarly by the name cousin, and
were brought up together. No human being could have passed a happier
childhood than myself.
When I had attained the age of seventeen, my parents resolved that I
should become a student at the University of Ingolstadt; I had hitherto
attended the schools, of Geneva.
Before the day of my departure arrived, the first misfortune of my life
occurred--an omen of my future misery. My mother attended Elizabeth in
an attack of scarlet fever. Elizabeth was saved, but my mother sickened
and died. On her deathbed she joined the hands of Elizabeth and
myself:--"My children," she said, "my firmest hopes of future happiness
were placed on the prospect of your union. This expectation will now be
the consolation of your father."
The day of my departure for Ingolstadt, deferred for some weeks by my
mother's death, at length arrived. I reached the town after a long and
fatiguing journey, delivered my letters of introduction, and paid a
visit to some of the principal professors.
M. Krempe, professor of Natural Philosophy, was an uncouth man. He asked
me several questions concerning my progress in different branches of
science, and informed me I must begin my studies entirely anew.
M. Waldman was very unlike his colleague. His voice was the sweetest I
had ever heard. Partly from curiosity, and partly from idleness, I
entered his lecture room, and his panegyric upon modern chemistry I
shall never forget:--"The ancient teachers of this science," said he,
"promised impossibilities, and performed nothing. The modern masters
promise very little, and have, indeed, performed miracles. They have
discovered how the blood circulates, and the nature of the air we
breathe. They have acquired new and almost unlimited powers; they can
command the thunders of the heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even mock
the invisible world with its own shadows."
Such were the professor's words, words of fate enounced to destroy me.
As he went on, I felt as if my soul were grappling with a palpable
enemy. So much has been done, exclaimed the soul of Frankenstein. More,
far more, will I achieve: I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown
powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation. I
closed not my eyes that night; and from this time natural philosophy,
and particularly chemistry, became nearly my sole occupation. My
progress was rapid, and at the end of two years I made some discoveries
in the improvement of chemical instruments which procured me great
esteem at the University.
I became acquainted with the science of anatomy, and often asked myself,
Whence did the principle of life proceed? I observed the natural decay
of the human body, and saw how the fine form of man was degraded and
wasted. I examined and analysed all the minutiae of causation in the
change from life to death and death to life, until from the midst of
this darkness a sudden light broke in upon me. I became dizzy with the
immensity of the prospect, and surprised that among so many men of
genius I alone should be reserved to discover so astonishing a secret.
Although I possessed the capacity of bestowing animation, yet to prepare
a frame for the reception of it remained a work of inconceivable
difficulty and labour. I collected bones from charnel houses, and the
dissecting room and the slaughter house furnished many of my materials.
Often my nature turned with loathing from my occupation, but the thought
that if I could bestow animation upon lifeless matter I might in process
of time renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to
corruption, supported my spirits.
In a solitary chamber at the top of the house I kept my workshop of
filthy creation. The summer months passed, but my eyes were insensible
to the charms of nature. Winter, spring, and summer passed away before
my work drew to a close, but now every day showed me how well I had
succeeded. But I had become a wreck, so engrossing was my occupation,
and nervous to a most painful degree. I shunned my fellow-creatures as
if I had been guilty of a crime.
_III.--Frankenstein's Creation_
It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of
my toil. With an anxiety that amounted to agony, I collected the
instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into
the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. I saw the dull yellow eye of the
creature open; it breathed hard; and a convulsive motion agitated its
limbs.
How can I delineate the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I
had endeavoured to form? His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of
muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and
flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but his watery eyes seemed
almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they were
set.
I had worked hard for nearly two years for the sole purpose of infusing
life into an inanimate body. For this I had deprived myself of rest and
health. But now that I had finished, breathless horror and disgust
filled my heart. Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created,
I rushed out of the room. I tried to sleep, but disturbed by the wildest
dreams, I started up. By the dim and yellow light of the moon I beheld
the miserable monster whom I had created. He held up the curtains of the
bed, and his eyes were fixed on me. He might have spoken, but I did not
hear; one hand was stretched out, seemingly to detain me, but I escaped
and rushed downstairs.
No mortal could support the horror of that countenance. I had gazed on
him while unfinished; he was ugly then, but when those muscles and
joints were rendered capable of motion, no mummy could be so hideous. I
took refuge in the court-yard, and passed the night wretchedly.
For several months I was confined by a nervous fever, and on my recovery
was filled with a violent antipathy even to the name of Natural
Philosophy.
A letter from my father telling me that my youngest brother William had
been found murdered, and bidding me return and comfort Elizabeth, made
me decide to hasten home.
It was completely dark when I arrived in the environs of Geneva. The
gates of the town were shut, and I was obliged to pass the night at a
village outside. A storm was raging on the mountains, and I wandered out
to watch the tempest and resolved to visit the spot where my poor
William had been murdered.
Suddenly I perceived in the gloom a figure which stole from behind a
clump of trees near me; I could not be mistaken. A flash of lightning
illuminated the object, and discovered its shape plainly to me. Its
gigantic stature, and the deformity of its aspect, more hideous than
belongs to humanity, instantly informed me that it was the wretch to
whom I had given life. What did he there? Could he be the murderer of my
brother? No sooner did that idea cross my imagination than I became
convinced of its truth. The figure passed me quickly, and I lost it in
the gloom. I thought of pursuing, but it would have been in vain, for
another flash discovered him to me hanging among the rocks, and he soon
reached the summit and disappeared.
It was about five in the morning when I entered my father's house. It
was a house of mourning, and from that time I lived in daily fear lest
the monster I had created should perpetrate some new wickedness. I
wished to see him again that I might avenge the death of William.
My wish was soon gratified. I had wandered off alone up the valley of
Chamounix, and was resting on the side of the mountain, when I beheld
the figure of a man advancing towards me, over the crevices in the ice,
with superhuman speed. He approached: his countenance bespoke bitter
anguish--it was the wretch whom I had created.
"Devil," I exclaimed, "do you dare approach me? Begone, vile insect! Or,
rather, stay, that I may trample you to dust!"
"I expected this reception," said the monster. "All men hate the
wretched: how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living
things. You purpose to kill me. Do your duty towards me and I will do
mine towards you and the rest of mankind. If you will comply with my
conditions I will leave them and you at peace; but if you refuse, I will
glut the maw of death with the blood of your remaining friends."
My rage was without bounds, but he easily eluded me and said:
"Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to increase my misery?
Remember that I am thy creature. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I
alone am excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. I
have assisted the labours of man, I have saved human beings from
destruction, and I have been stoned and shot at as a recompense. The
feelings of kindness and gentleness have given place to rage. Mankind
spurns and hates me. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers are my
refuge, and the bleak sky is kinder to me than your fellow-beings. Shall
I not hate them who abhor me? Listen to me, Frankenstein. I have
wandered through these mountains consumed by a burning passion which you
alone can gratify. You must create a female for me with whom I can live.
I am alone and miserable; man will not associate with me; but one as
deformed and horrible as myself would not deny herself to me.
"What I ask of you is reasonable and moderate. It is true, we shall be
monstrous, cut off from all the world: but on that account we shall be
more attached to one another. Our lives will not be happy, but they will
be harmless, and free from the misery I now feel. If you consent,
neither you nor any other human being shall ever see us again: I will go
to the vast wilds of South America. We shall make our bed of dried
leaves; the sun will shine on us as on man, and will ripen our foods. My
evil passion will have fled, for I shall meet with sympathy. My life
will flow quietly away, and in my dying moments I shall not curse my
maker."
His words had a strange effect on me. I compassionated him, and
concluded that the justest view both to him and my fellow-creatures
demanded of me that I should comply with his request.
"I consent to your demand," I said, "on your solemn oath to quit Europe
forever."
"I swear," he cried, "by the sun and by the fire of love which burns in
my heart that if you grant my prayer, while they exist you shall never
behold me again. Depart to your home, and commence your labours: I shall
watch their progress with unutterable anxiety."
Saying this, he suddenly quitted me, fearful, perhaps, of any change in
my sentiments.
_IV.--The Doom of Frankenstein_
I travelled to England with my friend Henry Clerval, and we parted in
Scotland. I had fixed on one of the remotest of the Orkneys as the scene
of my labours.
Three years before I was engaged in the same manner, and had created a
fiend whose barbarity had desolated my heart. I was now about to form
another being, of whose dispositions I was alike ignorant. He had sworn
to quit the neighbourhood of man, and hide himself in deserts, but she
had not. They might even hate each other, and she might quit him. Even
if they were to leave Europe, a race of devils would be propagated upon
the earth, who might make the very existence of man precarious and full
of terror.
I was alone on a solitary island, when looking up, the monster whom I
dreaded appeared. My mind was made up: I would never create another like
to him.
"Begone," I cried, "I break my promise. Never will I create your equal
in deformity and wickedness. Leave me; I am inexorable."
The monster saw my determination in my face, and gnashed his teeth in
anger. "Shall each man," cried he, "find a wife for his bosom, and each
beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had feelings of affection, and
they were requited by detestation and scorn. Are you to be happy, while
I grovel in the intensity of my wretchedness? I go, but remember, I
shall be with you on your wedding night."
I started forward, but he quitted the house with precipitation. In a few
moments I saw him in his boat, which shot across the waters with an
arrowy swiftness.
The next day I set off to rejoin Clerval, and return home. But I never
saw my friend again. The monster murdered him, and for a time I lay in
prison on suspicion of the crime. On my release one duty remained to me.
It was necessary that I should hasten without delay to Geneva, there to
watch over the lives of those I loved, and to lie in wait for the
murderer.
Soon after my arrival, my father spoke of my long-contemplated marriage
with Elizabeth. I remembered the fiend's words, "I shall be with you on
your wedding night," and if I had thought what might be the devilish
intention of my adversary I would never have consented. But thinking it
was only my own death I was preparing I agreed with a cheerful
countenance.
Elizabeth seemed happy, and I was tranquil. In the meantime I took every
precaution, carrying pistols and dagger, lest the fiend should openly
attack me.
After the ceremony was performed, a large party assembled at my
father's; it was agreed that Elizabeth and I should proceed immediately
to the shores of Lake Como.
That night we stopped at an inn. I reflected how fearful a combat, which
I momentarily expected, would be to my wife, and earnestly entreated her
to retire. She left me, and I walked up and down the passages of the
house inspecting every corner that might afford a retreat to my
adversary.
Suddenly I heard a shrill and dreadful scream. It came from the room
into which Elizabeth had retired. I rushed in. There, lifeless and
inanimate, thrown across the bed, her head hanging down, and her pale
and distorted features half covered with her hair, was the purest
creature on earth, my love, my wife, so lately living, and so dear.
And at the open window I saw a figure the most hideous and abhorred. A
grin was on the face of the monster as with his fiendish finger he
pointed towards the corpse.
Drawing a pistol I fired; but he eluded me, and running with the
swiftness of lightning, plunged into the lake.
The report of the pistol brought a crowd into the room. I pointed to the
spot where he had disappeared, and we followed the track with boats.
Nets were cast, but in vain. On my return to Geneva, my father sank
under the tidings I bore, for Elizabeth had been to him more than a
daughter, and in a few days he died in my arms.
Then I decided to tell my story to a criminal judge in the town, and
beseech him to assert his whole authority for the apprehension of the
murderer. This Genevan magistrate endeavoured to soothe me as a nurse
does a child, and treated my tale as the effects of delirium. I broke
from the house angry and disturbed, and soon quitted Geneva, hurried
away by fury. Revenge has kept me alive; I dared not die and leave my
adversary in being.
For many months this has been my task. Guided by a slight clue, I
followed the windings of the Rhone, but vainly. The blue Mediterranean
appeared; and, by a strange chance, I saw the fiend hide himself in a
vessel bound for the Black Sea.
Amidst the wilds of Tartary and Russia, although he still evaded me, I
have ever followed in his track. Sometimes the peasants informed me of
his path; sometimes he himself left some mark to guide me. The snows
descended on my head, and I saw the print of his huge step on the white
plain.
My life, as it passed thus, was indeed hateful to me, and it was during
sleep alone that I could taste joy.
As I still pursued my journey to the northward, the snows thickened and
the cold increased in the degree almost too severe to support. I found
the fiend had pursued his journey across the frost-bound sea in a
direction that led to no land, and exchanging my land sledge for one
fashioned for the Frozen Ocean I followed him.
I cannot guess how many days have passed since then. I was about to sink
under the accumulation of distress when you took me on board. But I had
determined, if you were going southward, still to trust myself to the
mercy of the seas rather than abandon my purpose--for my task is
unfulfilled.
_V.--Walton's Letter, continued_
A week has passed away while I have listened to the strangest tale that
ever imagination formed.
The only joy that Frankenstein can now know will be when he composes his
shattered spirit to peace and death.