"Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? Why did I not extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly bestowed? Despair had not yet taken possession of me; my feelings were those of rage and revenge. I could with pleasure have destroyed the cottage and its inhabitants and glutted myself with their shrieks and misery.
When night came, I quitted my retreat and wandered in the wood. No longer restrained by the fear of discovery, I gave vent to my anguish in fearful howlings. I was like a wild beast that had broken the toils, destroying the objects that obstructed me. The cold stars shone in mockery, and the bare trees waved their branches above me; now and then the sweet voice of a bird burst forth amidst the universal stillness. All, save I, were at rest or in enjoyment. I, like the arch-fiend, bore a hell within me, and finding myself unsympathised with, wished to tear up the trees, spread havoc and destruction around me.
But this luxury of sensation could not endure; I became fatigued with excess of bodily exertion and sank on the damp grass in the sick impotence of despair. There was none among the myriads of men who would pity or assist me; and should I feel kindness towards my enemies? No. From that moment I declared everlasting war against the species, and more than all, against him who had formed me.
The sun rose. I heard the voices of men and knew it was impossible to return to my retreat during the day. I hid myself in some thick underwood, determining to devote the ensuing hours to reflection.
The pleasant sunshine and pure air restored me to some degree of tranquillity. When I considered what had passed at the cottage, I could not help believing I had been too hasty. I had certainly acted imprudently; my conversation had interested the father in my behalf, and I was a fool to have exposed my person to the horror of his children. I ought to have familiarised the old De Lacey to me, and by degrees discovered myself to the rest of his family. But I did not believe my errors irretrievable, and after much consideration I resolved to return to the cottage, seek the old man, and win him to my party.
These thoughts calmed me, and in the afternoon I sank into a profound sleep; but the fever of my blood did not allow peaceful dreams. The horrible scene of the preceding day was for ever acting before my eyes; the females were flying and the enraged Felix tearing me from his father's feet. I awoke exhausted, and finding it already night, crept forth in search of food.
When my hunger was appeased, I directed my steps towards the well-known path that conducted to the cottage. All there was at peace. I crept into my hovel and remained in silent expectation of the accustomed hour when the family arose. That hour passed, the sun mounted high in the heavens, but the cottagers did not appear. I trembled violently, apprehending some dreadful misfortune. The inside of the cottage was dark, and I heard no motion; I cannot describe the agony of this suspense.
Presently two countrymen passed by, but pausing near the cottage, they entered into conversation, using violent gesticulations; but I did not understand what they said, as they spoke the language of the country, which differed from that of my protectors. Soon after, Felix approached with another man; I was surprised, as I knew he had not quitted the cottage that morning.
"Do you consider," said his companion, "that you will be obliged to pay three months' rent and to lose the produce of your garden? I do not wish to take any unfair advantage, and I beg therefore that you will take some days to consider of your determination."
"It is utterly useless," replied Felix; "we can never again inhabit your cottage. The life of my father is in the greatest danger. My wife and my sister will never recover from their horror. Take possession of your tenement and let me fly from this place."
Felix trembled violently as he said this. He and his companion entered the cottage, remained a few minutes, and then departed. I never saw any of the family of De Lacey more.
I continued for the remainder of the day in my hovel in a state of utter and stupid despair. My protectors had departed and broken the only link that held me to the world. For the first time the feelings of revenge and hatred filled my bosom. When I thought of my friends—of the mild voice of De Lacey, the gentle eyes of Agatha, and the exquisite beauty of the Arabian—these thoughts vanished and a gush of tears soothed me. But again when I reflected that they had spurned and deserted me, anger returned. Unable to injure anything human, I turned my fury towards inanimate objects. As night advanced, I placed a variety of combustibles around the cottage, and after destroying every vestige of cultivation in the garden, I waited with forced impatience until the moon had sunk to commence my operations.
As the night advanced, a fierce wind arose from the woods and quickly dispersed the clouds. The blast tore along like a mighty avalanche and produced a kind of insanity in my spirits that burst all bounds of reason. I lighted the dry branch of a tree and danced with fury around the devoted cottage, my eyes still fixed on the western horizon. A part of the moon's orb was at length hid, and I waved my brand; it sank, and with a loud scream I fired the straw, heath, and bushes I had collected. The wind fanned the fire, and the cottage was quickly enveloped by the flames, which clung to it and licked it with their forked and destroying tongues.
As soon as I was convinced no assistance could save any part of the habitation, I quitted the scene and sought refuge in the woods.
And now, with the world before me, whither should I bend my steps? I resolved to fly far from the scene of my misfortunes; but to me, hated and despised, every country must be equally horrible. At length the thought of you crossed my mind. I learned from your papers that you were my father, my creator; and to whom could I apply with more fitness than to him who had given me life? Among the lessons that Felix had bestowed upon Safie, geography had not been omitted. You had mentioned Geneva as the name of your native town, and towards this place I resolved to proceed.
But how was I to direct myself? I knew I must travel in a southwesterly direction, but the sun was my only guide. I did not know the names of the towns I was to pass through, nor could I ask information from a single human being; but I did not despair. From you only could I hope for succour, although towards you I felt no sentiment but that of hatred. Unfeeling, heartless creator! You had endowed me with perceptions and passions and then cast me abroad an object for the scorn and horror of mankind. But on you only had I any claim for pity and redress.
My travels were long and the sufferings I endured intense. It was late in autumn when I quitted the district where I had so long resided. I travelled only at night, fearful of encountering the visage of a human being. Nature decayed around me, and the sun became heatless; rain and snow poured around me; mighty rivers were frozen; the surface of the earth was hard and chill, and bare, and I found no shelter. The mildness of my nature had fled, and all within me was turned to gall and bitterness. The nearer I approached to your habitation, the more deeply did I feel the spirit of revenge enkindled in my heart. Snow fell, and the waters were hardened, but I rested not.
A circumstance that happened when I arrived on the confines of Switzerland confirmed in an especial manner the bitterness of my feelings. One morning, finding that my path lay through a deep wood, I ventured to continue my journey after the sun had risen; the day, one of the first of spring, cheered even me by the loveliness of its sunshine and the balminess of the air. I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure revive within me. Forgetting my solitude and deformity, I dared to be happy. Soft tears bedewed my cheeks, and I raised my humid eyes with thankfulness towards the blessed sun.
I continued to wind among the paths of the wood, until I came to its boundary, skirted by a deep and rapid river. Here I paused, not exactly knowing what path to pursue, when I heard the sound of voices that induced me to conceal myself under the shade of a cypress. I was scarcely hid when a young girl came running towards the spot, laughing, as if she ran from someone in sport. She continued her course along the precipitous sides of the river, when suddenly her foot slipped, and she fell into the rapid stream. I rushed from my hiding-place and with extreme labour, from the force of the current, saved her and dragged her to shore. She was senseless, and I endeavoured to restore animation, when I was suddenly interrupted by the approach of a rustic. On seeing me, he darted towards me, and tearing the girl from my arms, hastened towards the deeper parts of the wood. I followed speedily, but when the man saw me draw near, he aimed a gun at my body and fired. I sank to the ground, and my injurer escaped into the wood.
This was then the reward of my benevolence! I had saved a human being from destruction, and as a recompense I now writhed under the miserable pain of a wound which shattered the flesh and bone. The feelings of kindness and gentleness which I had entertained but a few moments before gave place to hellish rage and gnashing of teeth. Inflamed by pain, I vowed eternal hatred and vengeance to all mankind. But the agony of my wound overcame me; my pulses paused, and I fainted.
For some weeks I led a miserable life in the woods, endeavouring to cure the wound. The ball had entered my shoulder, and I knew not whether it had remained there or passed through. My daily vows rose for revenge—a deep and deadly revenge.
After some weeks my wound healed, and I continued my journey. The labours I endured were no longer to be alleviated by the bright sun or gentle breezes of spring; all joy was but a mockery which insulted my desolate state.
But my toils drew near a close, and in two months from this time I reached the environs of Geneva.
It was evening when I arrived, and I retired to a hiding-place among the fields to meditate in what manner I should apply to you. I was oppressed by fatigue and hunger and far too unhappy to enjoy the prospect of the sun setting behind the stupendous mountains of Jura.
At this time a slight sleep relieved me from the pain of reflection, which was disturbed by the approach of a beautiful child, who came running into the recess I had chosen. Suddenly, as I gazed on him, an idea seized me that this little creature was unprejudiced and had lived too short a time to have imbibed a horror of deformity. If, therefore, I could seize him and educate him as my companion and friend, I should not be so desolate in this peopled earth.
Urged by this impulse, I seized on the boy as he passed and drew him towards me. As soon as he beheld my form, he placed his hands before his eyes and uttered a shrill scream.
"Let me go," he cried; "monster! Ugly wretch! You wish to eat me. 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! My papa is a syndic—he is M. Frankenstein—he will punish you. You dare not keep me."
"Frankenstein! You belong then to my enemy—to him towards whom I have sworn eternal revenge; you shall be my first victim."
The child still struggled and loaded me with epithets which carried despair to my heart; I grasped his throat to silence him, and in a moment he lay dead at my feet.
I gazed on my victim, and my heart swelled with exultation and hellish triumph; clapping my hands, I exclaimed, "I too can create desolation; my enemy is not invulnerable; this death will carry despair to him, and a thousand other miseries shall torment and destroy him."
As I fixed my eyes on the child, I saw something glittering on his breast. I took it; it was a portrait of a most lovely woman. In spite of my malignity, it softened and attracted me. For a few moments I gazed with delight on her dark eyes, fringed by deep lashes, and her lovely lips; but presently my rage returned; I remembered that I was for ever deprived of the delights that such beautiful creatures could bestow.
While I was overcome by these feelings, I left the spot and, seeking a more secluded hiding-place, entered a barn which had appeared to be empty. A woman was sleeping on some straw; she was young, not indeed so beautiful as her whose portrait I held, but of an agreeable aspect and blooming in the loveliness of youth and health. Here, I thought, is one of those whose joy-imparting smiles are bestowed on all but me. And then I bent over her and whispered, "Awake, fairest, thy lover is near—he who would give his life but to obtain one look of affection from thine eyes; my beloved, awake!"
The sleeper stirred; a thrill of terror ran through me. Should she indeed awake, and see me, and curse me, and denounce the murderer? The thought was madness; it stirred the fiend within me—not I, but she, shall suffer; the murder I have committed because I am for ever robbed of all that she could give me, she shall atone. I bent over her and placed the portrait securely in one of the folds of her dress. She moved again, and I fled.
For some days I haunted the spot where these scenes had taken place, sometimes wishing to see you, sometimes resolved to quit the world and its miseries for ever. At length I wandered towards these mountains, and have ranged through their immense recesses, consumed by a burning passion which you alone can gratify. We may not part until you have promised to comply with my requisition. I am alone and miserable; man will not associate with me; but one as deformed and horrible as myself would not deny herself to me. My companion must be of the same species and have the same defects. This being you must create."