Frankenstein

Chapter 23

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

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

I had been calm during the day; but so soon as night obscured
the shapes of objects, a thousand fears arose in my mind.
I was anxious and watchful, while my right hand grasped a pistol
which was hidden in my bosom; every sound terrified me; but I
resolved that I would sell my life dearly, and not shrink from
the conflict until my own life, or that of my adversary, was
extinguished.

Elizabeth observed my agitation for some time in timid and
fearful silence; but there was something in my glance 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 be safe: but this night is dreadful, very dreadful."

I passed an hour in this state of mind, when suddenly I
reflected how fearful the combat which I momentarily expected
would be to my wife, and I earnestly entreated her to retire,
resolving not to join her until 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
passages of the house, and inspecting every corner that might
afford a retreat to my adversary. But I discovered no trace of
him, and was beginning to conjecture that some fortunate chance
had intervened to prevent the execution of his menaces, when
suddenly I heard a shrill and dreadful scream. It came from
the room into which Elizabeth had retired. As I heard it, the
whole truth rushed into my mind, my arms dropped, the motion of
every muscle and fibre was suspended; I could feel the blood
trickling in my veins and tingling in the extremities of my
limbs. This state lasted but for an instant; the scream was
repeated, and I rushed into the room.

Great God! why did I not then expire! Why am I here to relate
the destruction of the best hope and the purest creature of
earth? She was there, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the
bed, her head hanging down, and her pale and distorted features
half covered by her hair. Everywhere I turn I see the same
figure--her bloodless arms and relaxed form flung by the
murderer on its bridal bier. Could I behold this and live?
Alas! life is obstinate and clings closest where it is most hated.
For a moment only did I lose recollection; I fell 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 of others appeared only as a mockery, a shadow of
the feelings that oppressed me. I escaped from them to the
room where lay the body of Elizabeth, my love, my wife, so
lately living, so dear, so worthy. She had been moved from the
posture in which I had first beheld her; and now, as she lay,
her head upon her arm, and a handkerchief thrown across her
face and neck, I might have supposed her asleep. I rushed
towards her, and embraced her with ardour; but the deadly
languor and coldness of the limbs told me that what I now held
in my arms had ceased to be the Elizabeth whom I had loved and
cherished. The murderous mark of the fiend's grasp was on her
neck, and the breath had ceased to issue from her lips.

While I still hung over her in the agony of despair, I happened
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 moon illuminate the chamber. The shutters had been thrown
back; and, with a sensation of horror not to be described, I
saw at the open window a figure the most hideous and abhorred.
A grin was on the face of the monster; he seemed to jeer as
with his fiendish finger he pointed towards the corpse of my
wife. I rushed towards the window and, drawing a pistol from
my bosom, fired; but he eluded me, leaped from his station, 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.
After passing several hours, we returned hopeless, most of
my companions believing it to have been a form conjured up
by my fancy. After having landed, they proceeded to search
the country, parties going in different directions among the
woods and vines.

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

After an interval I arose and, as if by instinct, crawled into
the room where the corpse of my beloved lay. There were women
weeping around--I hung over it, and joined my sad tears to
theirs--all this time no distinct idea presented itself to my
mind; but my thoughts rambled to various subjects, reflecting
confusedly on my misfortunes and their cause. I was bewildered
in a cloud of wonder and horror. The death of William, the
execution of Justine, the murder of Clerval, and lastly of my
wife; even at that moment I knew not that my only remaining
friends were safe from the malignity of the fiend; my father
even now might be writhing under his grasp, and Ernest might be
dead at his feet. This idea made me shudder and recalled me to
action. I started up and resolved to return to Geneva with all
possible speed.

There were no horses to be procured, and I must return by the
lake; but the wind was unfavourable and the rain fell in
torrents. However, it was hardly morning, and I might
reasonably hope to arrive by night. I hired men to row, and
took an oar myself; for I had always experienced relief from
mental torment in bodily exercise. But the overflowing misery
I now felt, and the excess of agitation that I endured,
rendered me incapable of any exertion. I threw down the oar,
and leaning my head upon my hands gave way to every gloomy idea
that arose. If I looked up, I saw the scenes which were
familiar to me in my happier time, and which I had contemplated
but the day before in the company of her who was now but a
shadow and a recollection. Tears streamed from my eyes.
The rain had ceased for a moment, and I saw the fish play in the
waters as they had done a few hours before; they had then been
observed by Elizabeth. Nothing is so painful to the human mind
as a great and sudden change. The sun might shine or the
clouds might lower: but nothing could appear to me as it had
done the day before. A fiend had snatched from me every hope
of future happiness: no creature had ever been so miserable as
I was; so frightful an event is single in the history of man.

But why should I dwell upon the incidents that followed this
last overwhelming event? Mine has been a tale of horrors; I
have reached their _acme_, and what I must now relate can but be
tedious to you. Know that, one by one, my friends were snatched
away; I was left desolate. My own strength is exhausted; and
I must tell, in a few words, what remains of my hideous narration.

I arrived at Geneva. My father and Ernest yet lived; but the
former sunk under the tidings that I bore. I see him now,
excellent and venerable old man! his eyes wandered in vacancy,
for they had lost their charm and their delight--his Elizabeth,
his more than daughter, whom he doated on with all 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, and doomed him to waste in wretchedness! He could not
live under the horrors that were accumulated around him; the
springs of existence suddenly gave way: he was unable to rise
from his bed, and in a few days he died in my arms.

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

Liberty, however, had been an useless gift to me had I not, as
I awakened to reason, at the same time awakened to revenge.
As the memory of past misfortunes pressed upon me, I began to
reflect on their cause--the monster whom I had created, the
miserable daemon whom I had sent abroad into the world for
my destruction. I was possessed by a maddening rage when I
thought of him, and desired and ardently prayed that I might
have him within my grasp to wreak a great and signal revenge on
his cursed head.

Nor did my hate long confine itself to useless wishes; I began
to reflect on the best means of securing him; and for this
purpose, about a month after my release, I repaired to a
criminal judge in the town, and told him that I had an
accusation to make; that I knew the destroyer of my family; and
that I required him to exert his whole authority for the
apprehension of the murderer.

The magistrate listened to me with attention and kindness:--
"Be assured, sir," said he, "no pains or exertions on my part
shall be spared to discover the villain."

"I thank you," replied I; "listen, therefore, to the deposition
that I have to make. It is indeed a tale so strange that I
should fear you would not credit it were there not something in
truth which, however wonderful, forces conviction. The story
is too connected to be mistaken for a dream, and I have no
motive for falsehood." My manner, as I thus addressed him, was
impressive but calm; I had formed in my own heart a resolution
to pursue my destroyer to death; and this purpose quieted my
agony, and for an interval reconciled me to life. I now
related my history, briefly, but with firmness and precision,
marking the dates with accuracy, and never deviating into
invective or exclamation.

The magistrate appeared at first perfectly incredulous, but as
I continued he became more attentive and interested; I saw him
sometimes shudder with horror, at others a lively surprise,
unmingled with disbelief, was painted on his countenance.

When I had concluded my narration, I said, "This is the being
whom I accuse, and for whose seizure and punishment I call upon
you to exert your whole power. It is your duty as a magistrate,
and I believe and hope that your feelings as a man will not
revolt from the execution of those functions on this occasion.

This address caused a considerable change in the physiognomy of
my own auditor. He had heard my story with that half kind of
belief that is given to a tale of spirits and supernatural
events; but when he was called upon to act officially in
consequence, the whole tide of his incredulity returned.
He, however, answered mildly, "I would willingly afford you every
aid in your pursuit; but the creature of whom you speak appears
to have powers which would put all my exertions to defiance.
Who can follow an animal which can traverse the sea of ice, and
inhabit caves and dens where no man would venture to intrude?
Besides, some months have elapsed since the commission of his
crimes, and no one can conjecture to what place he has
wandered, or what region he may now inhabit."

"I do not doubt that he hovers near the spot which I inhabit;
and if he has indeed taken refuge in the Alps, he may be hunted
like the chamois, and destroyed as a beast of prey. But I
perceive your thoughts: you do not credit my narrative, and do
not intend to pursue my enemy with the punishment which is
his desert."

As I spoke, rage sparkled in my eyes; the magistrate was
intimidated:--"You are mistaken," said he, "I will exert
myself; and if it is in my power to seize the monster, be
assured that he shall suffer punishment proportionate to his
crimes. But I fear, from what you have yourself described to
be his properties, that this will prove impracticable; and
thus, while every proper measure is pursued, you should make up
your mind to disappointment."

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

I trembled with excess of agitation as I said this; there was
a frenzy in my manner and something, I doubt not, of that
haughty fierceness which the martyrs of old are said to have
possessed. But to a Genevan magistrate, whose mind was
occupied by far other ideas than those of devotion and heroism,
this elevation of mind had much the appearance of madness.
He endeavoured to soothe me as a nurse does a child, and reverted
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 on some other mode of action.

Chapter 24

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