I sat one evening in my laboratory;
the sun had set, and the moon was just rising from
the sea; I had not sufficient light for my employment,
and I remained idle, in a pause of consideration of
whether I should leave my labour for the night or
hasten its conclusion by an unremitting attention
to it. As I sat, a train of reflection occurred
to me which led me to consider the effects of what
I was now doing. Three years before, I was engaged
in the same manner and had created a fiend whose unparalleled
barbarity had desolated my heart and filled it forever
with the bitterest remorse. I was now about to
form another being of whose dispositions I was alike
ignorant; she might become ten thousand times more
malignant than her mate and delight, for its own sake,
in murder and wretchedness. He had sworn to quit
the neighbourhood of man and hide himself in deserts,
but she had not; and she, who in all probability was
to become a thinking and reasoning animal, might refuse
to comply with a compact made before her creation.
They might even hate each other; the creature who already
lived loathed his own deformity, and might he not
conceive a greater abhorrence for it when it came
before his eyes in the female form? She also
might turn with disgust from him to the superior beauty
of man; she might quit him, and he be again alone,
exasperated by the fresh provocation of being deserted
by one of his own species. Even if they were
to leave Europe and inhabit the deserts of the new
world, yet one of the first results of those sympathies
for which the daemon thirsted would be children, and
a race of devils would be propagated upon the earth
who might make the very existence of the species of
man a condition precarious and full of terror.
Had I right, for my own benefit, to inflict this
curse upon everlasting generations? I had before
been moved by the sophisms of the being I had created;
I had been struck senseless by his fiendish threats;
but now, for the first time, the wickedness of my
promise burst upon me; I shuddered to think that future
ages might curse me as their pest, whose selfishness
had not hesitated to buy its own peace at the price,
perhaps, of the existence of the whole human race.
I trembled and my heart failed within
me, when, on looking up, I saw by the light of the
moon the daemon at the casement. A ghastly grin
wrinkled his lips as he gazed on me, where I sat fulfilling
the task which he had allotted to me. Yes, he
had followed me in my travels; he had loitered in
forests, hid himself in caves, or taken refuge in wide
and desert heaths; and he now came to mark my progress
and claim the fulfilment of my promise.
As I looked on him, his countenance
expressed the utmost extent of malice and treachery.
I thought with a sensation of madness on my promise
of creating another like to him, and trembling with
passion, tore to pieces the thing on which I was engaged.
The wretch saw me destroy the creature on whose future
existence he depended for happiness, and with a howl
of devilish despair and revenge, withdrew.
I left the room, and locking the door,
made a solemn vow in my own heart never to resume
my labours; and then, with trembling steps, I sought
my own apartment. I was alone; none were near
me to dissipate the gloom and relieve me from the
sickening oppression of the most terrible reveries.
Several hours passed, and I remained
near my window gazing on the sea; it was almost motionless,
for the winds were hushed, and all nature reposed
under the eye of the quiet moon. A few fishing
vessels alone specked the water, and now and then
the gentle breeze wafted the sound of voices as the
fishermen called to one another. I felt the silence,
although I was hardly conscious of its extreme profundity,
until my ear was suddenly arrested by the paddling
of oars near the shore, and a person landed close
to my house.
In a few minutes after, I heard the
creaking of my door, as if some one endeavoured to
open it softly. I trembled from head to foot;
I felt a presentiment of who it was and wished to
rouse one of the peasants who dwelt in a cottage not
far from mine; but I was overcome by the sensation
of helplessness, so often felt in frightful dreams,
when you in vain endeavour to fly from an impending
danger, and was rooted to the spot. Presently
I heard the sound of footsteps along the passage;
the door opened, and the wretch whom I dreaded appeared.
Shutting the door, he approached me
and said in a smothered voice, “You have destroyed
the work which you began; what is it that you intend?
Do you dare to break your promise? I have endured
toil and misery; I left Switzerland with you; I crept
along the shores of the Rhine, among its willow islands
and over the summits of its hills. I have dwelt
many months in the heaths of England and among the
deserts of Scotland. I have endured incalculable
fatigue, and cold, and hunger; do you dare destroy
my hopes?”
“Begone! I do break my
promise; never will I create another like yourself,
equal in deformity and wickedness.”
“Slave, I before reasoned with
you, but you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension.
Remember that I have power; you believe yourself
miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the
light of day will be hateful to you. You are
my creator, but I am your master; obey!”
“The hour of my irresolution
is past, and the period of your power is arrived.
Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness;
but they confirm me in a determination of not creating
you a companion in vice. Shall I, in cool blood,
set loose upon the earth a daemon whose delight is
in death and wretchedness? Begone! I am
firm, and your words will only exasperate my rage.”
The monster saw my determination in
my face and gnashed his teeth in the impotence of
anger. “Shall each man,” cried he,
“find a wife for his bosom, and each beast have
his mate, and I be alone? I had feelings of
affection, and they were requited by detestation and
scorn. Man! You may hate, but beware!
Your hours will pass in dread and misery, and soon
the bolt will fall which must ravish from you your
happiness forever. Are you to be happy while
I grovel in the intensity of my wretchedness?
You can blast my other passions, but revenge remains revenge,
henceforth dearer than light or food! I may die,
but first you, my tyrant and tormentor, shall curse
the sun that gazes on your misery. Beware, for
I am fearless and therefore powerful. I will
watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting
with its venom. Man, you shall repent of the
injuries you inflict.”
“Devil, cease; and do not poison
the air with these sounds of malice. I have declared
my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend beneath
words. Leave me; I am inexorable.”
“It is well. I go; but
remember, I shall be with you on your wedding-night.”
I started forward and exclaimed, “Villain!
Before you sign my death-warrant, be sure that you
are yourself safe.”
I would have seized him, but he eluded
me and quitted the house with precipitation.
In a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shot
across the waters with an arrowy swiftness and was
soon lost amidst the waves.
All was again silent, but his words
rang in my ears. I burned with rage to pursue
the murderer of my peace and precipitate him into the
ocean. I walked up and down my room hastily and
perturbed, while my imagination conjured up a thousand
images to torment and sting me. Why had I not
followed him and closed with him in mortal strife?
But I had suffered him to depart, and he had directed
his course towards the mainland. I shuddered
to think who might be the next victim sacrificed to
his insatiate revenge. And then I thought again
of his words “I will be
with you on your wedding-night.”
That, then, was the period fixed for the fulfilment
of my destiny. In that hour I should die and
at once satisfy and extinguish his malice. The
prospect did not move me to fear; yet when I thought
of my beloved Elizabeth, of her tears and endless
sorrow, when she should find her lover so barbarously
snatched from her, tears, the first I had shed for
many months, streamed from my eyes, and I resolved
not to fall before my enemy without a bitter struggle.
The night passed away, and the sun
rose from the ocean; my feelings became calmer, if
it may be called calmness when the violence of rage
sinks into the depths of despair. I left the
house, the horrid scene of the last night’s
contention, and walked on the beach of the sea, which
I almost regarded as an insuperable barrier between
me and my fellow creatures; nay, a wish that such
should prove the fact stole across me.
I desired that I might pass my life
on that barren rock, wearily, it is true, but uninterrupted
by any sudden shock of misery. If I returned,
it was to be sacrificed or to see those whom I most
loved die under the grasp of a daemon whom I had myself
created.
I walked about the isle like a restless
spectre, separated from all it loved and miserable
in the separation. When it became noon, and the
sun rose higher, I lay down on the grass and was overpowered
by a deep sleep. I had been awake the whole
of the preceding night, my nerves were agitated, and
my eyes inflamed by watching and misery. The
sleep into which I now sank refreshed me; and when
I awoke, I again felt as if I belonged to a race of
human beings like myself, and I began to reflect upon
what had passed with greater composure; yet still the
words of the fiend rang in my ears like a death-knell;
they appeared like a dream, yet distinct and oppressive
as a reality.
The sun had far descended, and I still
sat on the shore, satisfying my appetite, which had
become ravenous, with an oaten cake, when I saw a
fishing-boat land close to me, and one of the men brought
me a packet; it contained letters from Geneva, and
one from Clerval entreating me to join him.
He said that he was wearing away his time fruitlessly
where he was, that letters from the friends he had
formed in London desired his return to complete the
negotiation they had entered into for his Indian enterprise.
He could not any longer delay his departure; but as
his journey to London might be followed, even sooner
than he now conjectured, by his longer voyage, he
entreated me to bestow as much of my society on him
as I could spare. He besought me, therefore,
to leave my solitary isle and to meet him at Perth,
that we might proceed southwards together. This
letter in a degree recalled me to life, and I determined
to quit my island at the expiration of two days.
Yet, before I departed, there was a task to perform,
on which I shuddered to reflect; I must pack up my
chemical instruments, and for that purpose I must
enter the room which had been the scene of my odious
work, and I must handle those utensils the sight of
which was sickening to me. The next morning,
at daybreak, I summoned sufficient courage and unlocked
the door of my laboratory. The remains of the
half-finished creature, whom I had destroyed, lay
scattered on the floor, and I almost felt as if I
had mangled the living flesh of a human being.
I paused to collect myself and then entered the chamber.
With trembling hand I conveyed the instruments out
of the room, but I reflected that I ought not to leave
the relics of my work to excite the horror and suspicion
of the peasants; and I accordingly put them into a
basket, with a great quantity of stones, and laying
them up, determined to throw them into the sea that
very night; and in the meantime I sat upon the beach,
employed in cleaning and arranging my chemical apparatus.
Nothing could be more complete than
the alteration that had taken place in my feelings
since the night of the appearance of the daemon.
I had before regarded my promise with a gloomy despair
as a thing that, with whatever consequences, must
be fulfilled; but I now felt as if a film had been
taken from before my eyes and that I for the first
time saw clearly. The idea of renewing my labours
did not for one instant occur to me; the threat I
had heard weighed on my thoughts, but I did not reflect
that a voluntary act of mine could avert it.
I had resolved in my own mind that to create another
like the fiend I had first made would be an act of
the basest and most atrocious selfishness, and I banished
from my mind every thought that could lead to a different
conclusion.
Between two and three in the morning
the moon rose; and I then, putting my basket aboard
a little skiff, sailed out about four miles from the
shore. The scene was perfectly solitary; a few
boats were returning towards land, but I sailed away
from them. I felt as if I was about the commission
of a dreadful crime and avoided with shuddering anxiety
any encounter with my fellow creatures. At one
time the moon, which had before been clear, was suddenly
overspread by a thick cloud, and I took advantage
of the moment of darkness and cast my basket into the
sea; I listened to the gurgling sound as it sank and
then sailed away from the spot. The sky became
clouded, but the air was pure, although chilled by
the northeast breeze that was then rising. But
it refreshed me and filled me with such agreeable
sensations that I resolved to prolong my stay on the
water, and fixing the rudder in a direct position,
stretched myself at the bottom of the boat. Clouds
hid the moon, everything was obscure, and I heard
only the sound of the boat as its keel cut through
the waves; the murmur lulled me, and in a short time
I slept soundly. I do not know how long I remained
in this situation, but when I awoke I found that the
sun had already mounted considerably. The wind
was high, and the waves continually threatened the
safety of my little skiff. I found that the wind
was northeast and must have driven me far from the
coast from which I had embarked. I endeavoured
to change my course but quickly found that if I again
made the attempt the boat would be instantly filled
with water. Thus situated, my only resource
was to drive before the wind. I confess that
I felt a few sensations of terror. I had no compass
with me and was so slenderly acquainted with the geography
of this part of the world that the sun was of little
benefit to me. I might be driven into the wide
Atlantic and feel all the tortures of starvation or
be swallowed up in the immeasurable waters that roared
and buffeted around me. I had already been out
many hours and felt the torment of a burning thirst,
a prelude to my other sufferings. I looked on
the heavens, which were covered by clouds that flew
before the wind, only to be replaced by others; I
looked upon the sea; it was to be my grave. “Fiend,”
I exclaimed, “your task is already fulfilled!”
I thought of Elizabeth, of my father, and of Clerval all
left behind, on whom the monster might satisfy his
sanguinary and merciless passions. This idea
plunged me into a reverie so despairing and frightful
that even now, when the scene is on the point of closing
before me forever, I shudder to reflect on it.
Some hours passed thus; but by degrees,
as the sun declined towards the horizon, the wind
died away into a gentle breeze and the sea became
free from breakers. But these gave place to a
heavy swell; I felt sick and hardly able to hold the
rudder, when suddenly I saw a line of high land towards
the south.
Almost spent, as I was, by fatigue
and the dreadful suspense I endured for several hours,
this sudden certainty of life rushed like a flood of
warm joy to my heart, and tears gushed from my eyes.
How mutable are our feelings, and
how strange is that clinging love we have of life
even in the excess of misery! I constructed another
sail with a part of my dress and eagerly steered my
course towards the land. It had a wild and rocky
appearance, but as I approached nearer I easily perceived
the traces of cultivation. I saw vessels near
the shore and found myself suddenly transported back
to the neighbourhood of civilized man. I carefully
traced the windings of the land and hailed a steeple
which I at length saw issuing from behind a small promontory.
As I was in a state of extreme debility, I resolved
to sail directly towards the town, as a place where
I could most easily procure nourishment. Fortunately
I had money with me.
As I turned the promontory I perceived
a small neat town and a good harbour, which I entered,
my heart bounding with joy at my unexpected escape.
As I was occupied in fixing the boat
and arranging the sails, several people crowded towards
the spot. They seemed much surprised at my appearance,
but instead of offering me any assistance, whispered
together with gestures that at any other time might
have produced in me a slight sensation of alarm.
As it was, I merely remarked that they spoke English,
and I therefore addressed them in that language.
“My good friends,” said I, “will
you be so kind as to tell me the name of this town
and inform me where I am?”
“You will know that soon enough,”
replied a man with a hoarse voice. “Maybe
you are come to a place that will not prove much to
your taste, but you will not be consulted as to your
quarters, I promise you.”
I was exceedingly surprised on receiving
so rude an answer from a stranger, and I was also
disconcerted on perceiving the frowning and angry
countenances of his companions. “Why do
you answer me so roughly?” I replied.
“Surely it is not the custom of Englishmen to
receive strangers so inhospitably.”
“I do not know,” said
the man, “what the custom of the English may
be, but it is the custom of the Irish to hate villains.”
While this strange dialogue continued, I perceived
the crowd rapidly increase. Their faces expressed
a mixture of curiosity and anger, which annoyed and
in some degree alarmed me.
I inquired the way to the inn, but
no one replied. I then moved forward, and a
murmuring sound arose from the crowd as they followed
and surrounded me, when an ill-looking man approaching
tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Come, sir,
you must follow me to Mr. Kirwin’s to give an
account of yourself.”
“Who is Mr. Kirwin? Why
am I to give an account of myself? Is not this
a free country?”
“Ay, sir, free enough for honest
folks. Mr. Kirwin is a magistrate, and you are
to give an account of the death of a gentleman who
was found murdered here last night.”
This answer startled me, but I presently
recovered myself. I was innocent; that could
easily be proved; accordingly I followed my conductor
in silence and was led to one of the best houses in
the town. I was ready to sink from fatigue and
hunger, but being surrounded by a crowd, I thought
it politic to rouse all my strength, that no physical
debility might be construed into apprehension or conscious
guilt. Little did I then expect the calamity
that was in a few moments to overwhelm me and extinguish
in horror and despair all fear of ignominy or death.
I must pause here, for it requires all my fortitude
to recall the memory of the frightful events which
I am about to relate, in proper detail, to my recollection.