“I think with horror, my sweet lady, that you will believe your Justine is a creature capable of a crime. Dear William! Dearest blessed child! I soon shall see you again in heaven, where we shall all be happy, That consoles me.”

“Oh, Justine! Please forgive me. Why did you confess? But do not mourn, dear girl. Do not fear. I will proclaim, I will prove your innocence. I will melt the stony hearts of your enemies by my tears and prayers. You will not die! You, my companion, my sister, perish on the scaffold! No! No! Never!”

Justine shook her head mournfully.

“I do not fear to die,” she said; “God gives me courage to endure the worst. I leave a sad and bitter world. Learn from me, dear lady, to submit in patience to the will of heaven!”

During this conversation I retired to a corner of the prison room, where I could conceal the horrid anguish that possessed me. Despair! Who dared talk of that? The poor victim, who will pass the awful boundary between life and death, felt not, as I did, such deep and bitter agony. I gnashed my teeth and ground them together. I was uttering a groan that came from my inmost soul. Justine approached me and said,

“Dear sir, you are very kind to visit me. I hope, you do not believe that I am guilty.”

I could not answer.

“No, Justine,” said Elizabeth; “he is more convinced of your innocence than I was.”

“I truly thank him. In these last moments I feel the sincerest gratitude towards those who think of me with kindness. How sweet is the affection of others to such a wretch as I am! I shall die in peace. You are convinced of my innocence, dear lady, and your cousin.”

Thus the poor sufferer tried to comfort others and herself. She indeed gained the resignation she desired. But I, the true murderer, felt the worm alive in my bosom. Elizabeth also wept and was unhappy. Anguish and despair penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell within me which nothing could extinguish. We stayed several hours with Justine.

“I wish,” cried Elizabeth, “to die with you! I cannot live in this world of misery.”

Justine repressed her bitter tears. She embraced Elizabeth and said,

“Farewell, sweet lady, dearest Elizabeth, my beloved and only friend; may heaven bless and

preserve you! Live and be happy, and make others so.”

And on the morrow Justine died. Elizabeth’s eloquence failed to move the judges from their conviction in the criminality of the saintly sufferer. When I received their cold answers and heard the harsh words, my avowal died away on my lips. Thus I will proclaim myself a madman, but I won’t revoke the sentence. She perished on the scaffold as a murderess!

I contemplated the deep and voiceless grief of my Elizabeth. I did it also! And my father’s woe, and the desolation of that home all was the work of my hands! You weep, unhappy ones, but these are not your last tears! Frankenstein, your son, your kinsman, your friend; he makes you weep!

Thus spoke my prophetic soul. I felt remorse, horror, and despair upon the graves of William and Justine, my first hapless victims.

Chapter 9

Nothing is more painful to the human mind than the dead calmness of inaction. Justine died, she rested, and I was alive. The blood flowed freely in my veins, but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my heart. Sleep fled from my eyes. I wandered like an evil spirit. I committed deeds of mischief, and more, much more (I persuaded myself) was yet behind. Yet my heart flowed with kindness and the love of virtue.

I began life with benevolent intentions. Now all was blasted. I was seized by remorse and the sense of guilt, which hurried me away to a hell of intense tortures. No language can describe it.

This state of mind preyed upon my health. All sound of joy or complacency was torture to me. Solitude was my only consolation-deep, dark, deathlike solitude.

My father observed with pain my alteration.

“Do you think, Victor,” said he, “that I do not suffer also? No one could love a child more than I loved your brother”-tears came into his eyes as he spoke-“but is it not a duty to the survivors to refrain from unhappiness and grief? We live here, and we must be fit for society.”

This advice, although good, was totally inapplicable to my case. I could only answer my father with a look of despair.

About this time we retired to our house at Belrive. This change was particularly agreeable to me. I was now free. Often I took the boat and passed many hours upon the water. Sometimes the wind carried me away; and sometimes I left the boat to pursue its own course. I wanted to plunge into the silent lake. The waters will close over me and my calamities for ever. But I thought of the heroic and suffering Elizabeth, whom I tenderly loved. I thought also of my father and my brother. I must not leave them.

At these moments I wept bitterly. Remorse extinguished every hope. I am the author of unalterable evils, and I live in daily fear lest the monster whom I created perpetrates some new wickedness. I had an obscure feeling that all was not the end. He will still commit some crime, which will almost efface the recollection of the past.

My abhorrence of this fiend is great. When I think of him I gnash my teeth, my eyes become inflamed. I ardently wish to extinguish that life which I so thoughtlessly bestowed! When I

reflect on his crimes and malice, my hatred and revenge rise. I wanted to avenge the deaths of William and Justine.

Our house was the house of mourning. My father’s health was deeply shaken by the horror of the recent events. Elizabeth was sad and desponding. She was no longer that happy creature who in earlier youth wandered with me on the banks of the lake and talked with ecstasy of our future prospects. The sorrows quenched her dearest smiles.

“When I reflect, my dear cousin,” said she, “on the miserable death of Justine Moritz, I can’t live in this world. Before, vice and injustice that I read in books or heard from others were tales of ancient days for me. At least they were remote. But now men appear to me as monsters. They thirst for each other’s blood. Yet I am certainly unjust. Everybody thought that poor girl was guilty. To murder the son of her benefactor and friend for the sake of a few jewels! But she was innocent. I know, I feel she was innocent. You are of the same opinion, and that confirms me. Alas! Victor, when falsehood can look like the truth, who can feel happiness? I walk on the edge of a precipice, and the men endeavour to plunge me into the abyss. William and Justine were assassinated, and the murderer escapes. He walks freely.”

I listened to this discourse with the extremest agony. I was the true murderer. Elizabeth saw my anguish in my countenance, and kindly said,

“My dearest friend, you must calm yourself. These events have affected me, God knows how deeply. But I am not so wretched as you are. There is an expression of despair, and sometimes of revenge, in your countenance. That makes me tremble. Dear Victor, banish these dark passions. Remember the friends around you. Ah! While we love, while we are true to each other, here in this land of peace and beauty, your native country, what can disturb our peace?”

But even such words from her could not chase away the fiend that lurked in my heart. As she spoke I drew near to her. I am afraid that the devil can take her away from me.

Thus not the tenderness of friendship, nor the beauty of earth, nor of heaven, could redeem my soul from woe. Sometimes the whirlwind passions of my soul drove me to seek some relief from my intolerable sensations, by bodily exercise and by change of place. One day I suddenly left my home, and went towards the near Alpine valleys. The magnificence, the eternity of such scenes will help me to forget myself and my sorrows. I went towards the valley of Chamounix. I visited it frequently during my boyhood. Six years passed since then.

I performed the first part of my journey on horseback. I afterwards hired a mule. The weather was fine. It was about the middle of the month of August, nearly two months after the death of

Justine. I plunged in the ravine of Arve. Ruined castles on the precipices of piny mountains, the impetuous Arve, and cottages every here and there among the trees formed a scene of singular beauty.

I passed the bridge of Pelissier, where the ravine opened before me, and I began to ascend the mountain that overhangs it. Soon after, I entered the valley of Chamounix. This valley is more wonderful and sublime, but not so beautiful and picturesque as that of Servox. I saw no more ruined castles and fertile fields. Immense glaciers approached the road. Mont Blanc, the supreme and magnificent Mont Blanc, raised itself from the aiguilles, and its tremendous dome overlooked the valley.

At length I arrived at the village of Chamounix. For a short time I remained at the window. The sounds of a river acted as a lullaby to me. When I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me.

Chapter 10

I spent the following day in the valley. I stood beside the sources of the Arveiron. The abrupt sides of vast mountains were before me. The icy wall of the glacier overhung me. The solemn silence of the glorious Nature! The sublime and magnificent scenes afforded me the great consolation. They elevated me from all littleness of feeling. Although they did not remove my grief, they subdued and tranquillised it.

Where did they flee when the next morning I awoke? Dark melancholy clouded every thought. The rain was hard, and thick mists hid the summits of the mountains. But what were rain and storm to me? I took my mule and I resolved to ascend to the summit of Montanvert. I remember the effect that the view of the tremendous glacier produced upon my mind when I first saw it.

It filled me with a sublime ecstasy that gave wings to the soul.

I determined to go without a guide, for I knew the path. The presence of another will destroy the solitary grandeur of the scene.

The ascent is precipitous. It is a scene terrifically desolate. Trees lie broken and strewed on the ground. The path is intersected by ravines of snow. The pines are not tall or luxuriant, but they are sombre and add an air of severity to the scene. I looked on the valley beneath. Vast mists were rising from the rivers which ran through it.

It was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent. For some time I sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice. A mist covered the surrounding mountains. The surface is very uneven. The field of ice is almost a league in width. The opposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock. From the side where I now stood Montanvert was exactly opposite. Above it rose Mont Blanc, in awful majesty. Oh, what a wonderful and stupendous scene! The sea, or rather the vast river of ice, wound among its dependent mountains. Their icy peaks shone in the sunlight over the clouds. My heart swelled with joy. I exclaimed,

“Wandering spirits, if you do not rest in your narrow beds, allow me this faint happiness, or take me, as your companion, away from the joys of life!”

As I said this I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance. He was advancing towards me with superhuman speed. He bounded over the crevices in the ice. A mist came over my eyes, and I felt some faintness. I perceived, as the shape came nearer, that it was my wretch, me demon. I trembled with rage and horror. He approached. His unearthly ugliness was too horrible for human eyes. But I scarcely observed this.

“Devil,” I exclaimed, “do you dare approach me? And do not you fear the fierce vengeance of my arm on your miserable head? Begone, vile insect! Or rather, stay, I shall trample you to dust! I want to restore those victims whom you have so diabolically murdered!”

“I expected this reception,” said the demon. “All men hate the wretched. Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, your creature. You want to kill me. How dare you play with life? Do your duty towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of mankind. I will leave them and you at peace. But if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death with the blood of your friends.”

“Abhorred monster! Fiend! The tortures of hell are too mild a vengeance for your crimes. Wretched devil! You reproach me with your creation. Come here. I will extinguish the spark which I so negligently bestowed.”

My rage was without bounds. I sprang on him. He easily eluded me and said,

“Be calm! Hear me. Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to increase my misery? Life is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, you made me more powerful than yourself. But I will not fight you. I am your creature, and I will be even mild and docile to my lord and king if you also perform your duty, oh, Frankenstein. Remember that I am your creature. But I’m not your Adam, I am the fallen angel[19]. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good. Misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.”

“Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no community between you and me. We are enemies. Begone, or let us fight.”

“Will anything cause you to turn a favourable eye upon your creature? I implore your goodness and compassion! Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent. My soul glowed with love and humanity. But I am alone, miserably alone. You, my creator, abhor me. Other people spurn and hate me. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days. The caves of ice are a dwelling to me. These bleak skies are kinder to me than your friends. If the people know of my existence, they will kill me. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will not be a friend to my enemies. I am miserable, and they will share my wretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompense me. Please do not disdain me. Listen to my tale; and then abandon or commiserate me. But hear me. Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder, and yet you want to destroy your own creature. Is that justice? Listen to me, and then, if you can, and if you want, destroy the work of your hands.”

“Cursed be[20] the day,” I rejoined, “abhorred devil, in which you first saw light! Cursed (although I curse myself) be the hands that formed you! Begone! Relieve me from the sight of your detested form.”

“Oh my creator,” he said; “still you can listen to me and grant me your compassion. By the virtues that I once possessed, I demand this from you. Hear my tale; it is long and strange. It is very cold here; come to the hut upon the mountain. You will hear my story and decide. It depends on you:whether I quit for ever the mankind and lead a harmless life, or become the scourge of your friends and ruin you.”

As he said this he walked across the ice. I followed. I did not answer him, but I decided to listen to his tale. Curiosity and compassion confirmed my resolution. I looked at him as at the murderer of my brother, and I wanted a confirmation or denial of this opinion. Also, I felt what the duties of a creator towards his creature were. I must make him happy before I complain of his wickedness. These motives urged me to follow him.

We crossed the ice and ascended the opposite rock. The air was cold, and the rain again began to descend. We entered the hut. I was ready to listen. So he began his tale.

Chapter 11

“I hardly remember the first moments of my life. All the events of that period appear confused and indistinct. A strange multiplicity of sensations seized me. I saw, felt, heard, and smelt at the same time. I remember, a strong light pressed upon my nerves, so I shut my eyes. Darkness then came over me and troubled me. Then I opened my eyes again. I walked and descended.

Dark and opaque bodies surrounded me. The light became more and more oppressive to me, and I walked to look for a place where I could receive shade. This was the forest near Ingolstadt. Here I lay by the side of a brook, until I felt hunger and thirst. This roused me from my dormant state. I ate some berries which I found on the trees or on the ground. I drank from the brook and then slept.

It was dark when I awoke. I felt cold also, and half frightened. I was desolate. Before I quitted your apartment, I covered myself with some clothes. But these were insufficient to secure me from the dews of night. I was a poor, helpless, miserable wretch. Pain invaded me on all sides. I sat down and wept.

Soon a gentle light gave me a sensation of pleasure. I beheld a radiant form rise from among the trees. It was the moon. It moved slowly, but it enlightened my path, and I again went out to look for berries.

I was still cold when under the tree I found a huge cloak. I sat down upon the ground. I felt hunger, and thirst, and darkness. Innumerable sounds rang in my ears. On all sides various scents saluted me. I could distinguish the bright moon, and I fixed my eyes on that with pleasure.

Some days and nights passed, when I began to distinguish my sensations. I began to observe the forms that surrounded me. Sometimes I tried to imitate the pleasant songs of the birds. Sometimes I wished to express my sensations, but the inarticulate sounds frightened me.

I remained in the forest. My sensations became distinct, and my mind received every day additional ideas. My eyes began to perceive objects in their right forms. I distinguished the insect from the herb, and one herb from another.

One day, I found a fire. Some beggars left it. I experienced warmth from it. In my joy I thrust my hand into the fire, but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain. How strange, I thought! I examined the materials of the fire. It was wood. I quickly collected some branches. When night came, I covered the fire carefully with dry wood and leaves and placed wet branches. Then I lay on the ground and slept.

It was morning when I awoke, and I uncovered the fire. I found some roasted offals. They tasted much more savoury than the berries I gathered from the trees. I tried, therefore, to roast my food. The nuts and roots were tasty.

Food, however, became scarce, and I often spent the whole day to search for a few acorns. I resolved to quit the place. I lamented the loss of the fire, I did not know how to reproduce it. I passed three days in rambles and at length discovered the open country[21]

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Примечания

early years – юность

my education was neglected – моим образованием не занимались

to embark in a seafaring life – отправиться в море

under-mate – подшкипер

by every opportunity – при каждой возможности

merchantman – торговое судно

attended on him – ухаживал за ним

moral relations of things – нравственные проблемы

caught the scarlet fever – заболела скарлатиной

letters of introduction – рекомендательные письма

at length – наконец