My present situation was one in which all voluntary thought was swallowed up and lost. I was hurried away by fury; revenge alone endowed me with strength and composure. My country, once dear, became hateful in my adversity. I provided myself with money and a few of my mother's jewels and departed Geneva for ever.
And now my wanderings began which are to cease but with life. I have traversed a vast portion of the earth and endured all the hardships of travellers in deserts and barbarous countries. How I have lived I hardly know; many times have I stretched my failing limbs upon the sandy plain and prayed for death. But revenge kept me alive; I dared not die and leave my adversary in being.
When I quitted Geneva my first labour was to trace the steps of my fiendish enemy. As night approached I found myself at the entrance of the cemetery where William, Elizabeth, and my father reposed. The deep grief this scene excited quickly gave way to rage and despair. They were dead, and I lived; their murderer also lived, and to destroy him I must drag out my weary existence. I knelt on the grass and swore by the sacred earth, by the shades that wander near me, by the deep and eternal grief that I feel, and by Night and the spirits that preside over her, to pursue the dæmon who caused this misery until he or I shall perish in mortal conflict.
A loud and fiendish laugh answered me through the stillness of night. The mountains re-echoed it, and I felt as if all hell surrounded me with mockery. The laughter died away, when a well-known and abhorred voice, apparently close to my ear, addressed me: "I am satisfied, miserable wretch! You have determined to live, and I am satisfied." I darted towards the spot, but the devil eluded my grasp. The broad disk of the moon arose and shone full upon his ghastly and distorted shape as he fled with more than mortal speed.
I pursued him, and for many months this has been my task. Guided by a slight clue, I followed the windings of the Rhone, but vainly. The blue Mediterranean appeared, and by a strange chance I saw the fiend enter by night and hide himself in a vessel bound for the Black Sea. I took my passage in the same ship, but he escaped, I know not how.
Amidst the wilds of Tartary and Russia, although he still evaded me, I have ever followed in his track. Sometimes the peasants, scared by this horrid apparition, informed me of his path; sometimes he himself, who feared that if I lost all trace of him I should despair and die, left some mark to guide me. The snows descended on my head, and I saw the print of his huge step on the white plain. Cold, want, and fatigue were the least pains I was destined to endure; I was cursed by some devil and carried about with me my eternal hell; yet still a spirit of good followed and directed my steps, and when I most murmured would suddenly extricate me from seemingly insurmountable difficulties.
He left marks in writing on the barks of the trees or cut in stone that guided me and instigated my fury. "My reign is not yet over," read one inscription; "you live, and my power is complete. Follow me; I seek the everlasting ices of the north, where you will feel the misery of cold and frost." Another inscription warned: "Prepare! Your toils only begin; wrap yourself in furs and provide food, for we shall soon enter upon a journey where your sufferings will satisfy my everlasting hatred."
My courage and perseverance were invigorated by these scoffing words. I continued with unabated fervour to traverse immense deserts, until the ocean appeared at a distance. Some weeks before, I had procured a sledge and dogs and thus traversed the snows with inconceivable speed. I found that I gained on him, so that when I first saw the ocean he was but one day's journey in advance. I hoped to intercept him before he should reach the beach.
A gigantic monster, the inhabitants of a wretched hamlet told me, had arrived the night before, armed with a gun and many pistols, putting to flight the people of a solitary cottage. He had carried off their store of winter food, harnessed a numerous drove of trained dogs, and the same night had pursued his journey across the sea in a direction that led to no land; they conjectured that he must speedily be destroyed by the breaking of the ice or frozen by the eternal frosts.
On hearing this I suffered a temporary access of despair. Yet at the idea that the fiend should live and be triumphant, my rage and vengeance returned, and like a mighty tide, overwhelmed every other feeling. I exchanged my land-sledge for one fashioned for the inequalities of the Frozen Ocean, and purchasing a plentiful stock of provisions, I departed from land.
I cannot guess how many days have passed since then, but I have endured misery which nothing but the eternal sentiment of a just retribution burning within my heart could have enabled me to support. By the quantity of provision I had consumed, I should guess that I had passed three weeks in this journey. Once, after the poor animals that conveyed me had with incredible toil gained the summit of a sloping ice mountain, and one, sinking under his fatigue, died, I viewed the expanse before me with anguish, when suddenly my eye caught a dark speck upon the dusky plain. I distinguished a sledge and the distorted proportions of a well-known form within. Oh! With what a burning gush did hope revisit my heart!
But when I appeared almost within grasp of my foe, my hopes were suddenly extinguished. A ground sea was heard; the wind arose; the sea roared; and, as with the mighty shock of an earthquake, it split and cracked with a tremendous and overwhelming sound. In a few minutes a tumultuous sea rolled between me and my enemy, and I was left drifting on a scattered piece of ice that was continually lessening.
In this manner many appalling hours passed; several of my dogs died, and I myself was about to sink under the accumulation of distress when I saw your vessel riding at anchor. I quickly destroyed part of my sledge to construct oars, and by these means was enabled to move my ice raft in the direction of your ship. I had determined, if you were going southwards, still to trust myself to the mercy of the seas rather than abandon my purpose. But your direction was northwards. You took me on board when my vigour was exhausted, and I should soon have sunk under my multiplied hardships into a death which I still dread, for my task is unfulfilled.
Oh! When will my guiding spirit allow me the rest I so much desire; or must I die, and he yet live? Swear to me, Walton, that he shall not escape, that you will seek him and satisfy my vengeance in his death. Hear him not; his soul is as hellish as his form, full of treachery and fiend-like malice. Call on the names of William, Justine, Clerval, Elizabeth, my father, and of the wretched Victor, and thrust your sword into his heart.
Walton, _in continuation._
August 26th, 17—.
You have read this strange and terrific story, Margaret; and do you not feel your blood congeal with horror? Sometimes, seized with sudden agony, he could not continue his tale; at others, his voice broken, yet piercing, uttered with difficulty the words so replete with anguish. His fine and lovely eyes were now lighted up with indignation, now subdued to downcast sorrow. Sometimes he commanded his countenance and tones and related the most horrible incidents with a tranquil voice; then, like a volcano bursting forth, his face would suddenly change to an expression of the wildest rage.
His tale is connected and told with an appearance of the simplest truth, yet I own to you that the letters of Felix and Safie, which he showed me, and the apparition of the monster seen from our ship, brought to me a greater conviction of the truth of his narrative than his asseverations.
"Are you mad, my friend?" said he, when I sought the particulars of his creature's formation. "Would you also create for yourself and the world a demoniacal enemy? Peace, peace! Learn my miseries and do not seek to increase your own."
My thoughts and every feeling of my soul have been drunk up by the interest for my guest which this tale and his own elevated and gentle manners have created. On every point of general literature he displays unbounded knowledge and a quick and piercing apprehension. What a glorious creature must he have been in the days of his prosperity, when he is thus noble and god-like in ruin!
I would reconcile him to life, but he repulses the idea. "Can any man be to me as Clerval was, or any woman another Elizabeth?" he answered. "They are dead, and but one feeling in such a solitude can persuade me to preserve my life. I must pursue and destroy the being to whom I gave existence."
My beloved Sister,
September 2d.
I write to you, encompassed by peril and ignorant whether I am ever doomed to see again dear England. I am surrounded by mountains of ice which admit of no escape and threaten every moment to crush my vessel. The brave fellows whom I have persuaded to be my companions look towards me for aid, but I have none to bestow. There is something terribly appalling in our situation, yet my courage and hopes do not desert me.
My unfortunate guest regards me with the tenderest compassion. He reminds me how often the same accidents have happened to other navigators who have attempted this sea, and in spite of myself, he fills me with cheerful auguries. Even the sailors feel the power of his eloquence; when he speaks, they no longer despair.
September 5th.
A scene has just passed of such uncommon interest that, although it is highly probable that these papers may never reach you, yet I cannot forbear recording it. Frankenstein has daily declined in health; a feverish fire still glimmers in his eyes, but he is exhausted.
I mentioned in my last letter the fears I entertained of a mutiny. This morning half a dozen of the sailors demanded admission into the cabin. They insisted that I should engage with a solemn promise that if the vessel should be freed I would instantly direct my course southwards.
This speech troubled me. I hesitated before I answered, when Frankenstein, who had at first been silent, now roused himself; his eyes sparkled, and his cheeks flushed with momentary vigour. "What do you mean?" he said. "Did you not call this a glorious expedition? And wherefore was it glorious? Not because the way was smooth and placid as a southern sea, but because it was full of dangers and terror. Oh! Be men, or be more than men. Be steady to your purposes and firm as a rock. This ice is not made of such stuff as your hearts may be; it is mutable and cannot withstand you if you say that it shall not. Return as heroes who have fought and conquered and who know not what it is to turn their backs on the foe."
He spoke this with a voice so modulated to the different feelings expressed in his speech, with an eye so full of lofty design and heroism, that can you wonder that these men were moved?
September 7th.
The die is cast; I have consented to return if we are not destroyed. Thus are my hopes blasted by cowardice and indecision; I come back ignorant and disappointed.
September 12th.
It is past; I am returning to England. I have lost my hopes of utility and glory; I have lost my friend.
September 9th, the ice began to move, and roarings like thunder were heard at a distance. On the 11th the passage towards the south became perfectly free. Frankenstein awoke and asked the cause of the tumult. "They shout," I said, "because they will soon return to England."
"Do you, then, really return?"
"Alas! Yes; I cannot lead them unwillingly to danger."
"Do so, if you will; but I will not. You may give up your purpose, but mine is assigned to me by Heaven, and I dare not." Saying this, he endeavoured to spring from the bed, but the exertion was too great for him; he fell back and fainted.
The surgeon told me that my friend had certainly not many hours to live.
At length he called to me in a feeble voice: "Alas! The strength I relied on is gone; I feel that I shall soon die. During these last days I have been occupied in examining my past conduct; nor do I find it blamable. In a fit of enthusiastic madness I created a rational creature and was bound towards him to assure, as far as was in my power, his happiness and well-being. This was my duty, but there was another still paramount to that. Urged by this view, I refused, and I did right in refusing, to create a companion for the first creature. He ought to die. The task of his destruction was mine, but I have failed."
"That he should live to be an instrument of mischief disturbs me; in other respects, this hour, when I momentarily expect my release, is the only happy one which I have enjoyed for several years. The forms of the beloved dead flit before me, and I hasten to their arms. Farewell, Walton! Seek happiness in tranquillity and avoid ambition, even if it be only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in science and discoveries."
His voice became fainter, and at length he sank into silence. About half an hour afterwards he attempted again to speak but was unable; he pressed my hand feebly, and his eyes closed for ever, while the irradiation of a gentle smile passed away from his lips.
I am interrupted. What do these sounds portend? Again there is a sound as of a human voice, but hoarser; it comes from the cabin where the remains of Frankenstein still lie.
Great God! what a scene has just taken place! I entered the cabin where lay the remains of my ill-fated and admirable friend. Over him hung a form which I cannot find words to describe—gigantic in stature, yet uncouth and distorted in its proportions. As he hung over the coffin, his face was concealed by long locks of ragged hair; but one vast hand was extended, in colour and apparent texture like that of a mummy.
He paused, looking on me with wonder, and again turning towards the lifeless form of his creator, he seemed to forget my presence.
"That is also my victim!" he exclaimed. "In his murder my crimes are consummated; the miserable series of my being is wound to its close! Oh, Frankenstein! Generous and self-devoted being! What does it avail that I now ask thee to pardon me? I, who irretrievably destroyed thee by destroying all thou lovedst. Alas! He is cold, he cannot answer me."
I called on him to stay, and gathered resolution to address him. "Your repentance," I said, "is now superfluous. If you had listened to the voice of conscience and heeded the stings of remorse before you had urged your diabolical vengeance to this extremity, Frankenstein would yet have lived."
"And do you dream?" said the dæmon. "Do you think that I was then dead to agony and remorse? He suffered not in the consummation of the deed. Oh! Not the ten-thousandth portion of the anguish that was mine during the lingering detail of its execution. After the murder of Clerval I returned to Switzerland, heart-broken and overcome. But when I discovered that he, the author at once of my existence and of its unspeakable torments, dared to hope for happiness, that while he accumulated wretchedness and despair upon me he sought his own enjoyment in feelings and passions from the indulgence of which I was for ever barred, then impotent envy and bitter indignation filled me with an insatiable thirst for vengeance. The completion of my demoniacal design became an insatiable passion. And now it is ended; there is my last victim!"
I told him it was not pity that he felt, but rage at the withdrawal of his victim from his power. "Oh, it is not thus—not thus," interrupted the being. "No sympathy may I ever find. When I first sought it, it was the love of virtue, the feelings of happiness and affection, that I wished to be participated. But now that virtue has become to me a shadow, and that happiness and affection are turned into bitter and loathing despair, in what should I seek for sympathy? I am content to suffer alone."
"I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on. Was there no injustice in this? Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all humankind sinned against me? But it is true that I am a wretch. I have murdered the lovely and the helpless; I have strangled the innocent as they slept. There he lies, white and cold in death. You hate me, but your abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself."
"Fear not that I shall be the instrument of future mischief. My work is nearly complete. Do not think that I shall be slow to perform this sacrifice. I shall quit your vessel on the ice raft which brought me thither and shall seek the most northern extremity of the globe; I shall collect my funeral pile and consume to ashes this miserable frame, that its remains may afford no light to any curious and unhallowed wretch who would create such another as I have been. I shall die. I shall no longer feel the agonies which now consume me. Light, feeling, and sense will pass away; and in this condition must I find my happiness. Polluted by crimes and torn by the bitterest remorse, where can I find rest but in death?
"Farewell! I leave you, and in you the last of humankind whom these eyes will ever behold. Farewell, Frankenstein! Soon these burning miseries will be extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pile triumphantly and exult in the agony of the torturing flames. The light of that conflagration will fade away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spirit will sleep in peace. Farewell."
He sprang from the cabin-window as he said this, upon the ice raft which lay close to the vessel. He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance.