Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus
Besides, they observed that it appeared that I had brought the body from
another place, and it was likely, that as I did not appear to know the
shore, I might have put into the harbour ignorant of the distance of the
town of * * * from the place where I had deposited the corpse.
Mr. Kirwin, on hearing this evidence, desired that I should be taken
into the room where the body lay for interment, that it might be
observed what effect the sight of it would produce upon me. This idea
was probably suggested by the extreme agitation I had exhibited when the
mode of the murder had been described. I was accordingly conducted, by
the magistrate and several other persons, to the inn. I could not help
being struck by the strange coincidences that had taken place during
this eventful night; but, knowing that I had been conversing with
several persons in the island I had inhabited about the time that the
body had been found, I was perfectly tranquil as to the consequences of
the affair.
I entered the room where the corpse lay, and was led up to the coffin.
How can I describe my sensations on beholding it? I feel yet parched
with horror, nor can I reflect on that terrible moment without
shuddering and agony. The examination, the presence of the magistrate
and witnesses, passed like a dream from my memory, when I saw the
lifeless form of Henry Clerval stretched before me. I gasped for breath;
and, throwing myself on the body, I exclaimed, "Have my murderous
machinations deprived you also, my dearest Henry, of life? Two I have
already destroyed; other victims await their destiny: but you, Clerval,
my friend, my benefactor----"
The human frame could no longer support the agonies that I endured, and
I was carried out of the room in strong convulsions.
A fever succeeded to this. I lay for two months on the point of death:
my ravings, as I afterwards heard, were frightful; I called myself the
murderer of William, of Justine, and of Clerval. Sometimes I entreated
my attendants to assist me in the destruction of the fiend by whom I was
tormented; and at others, I felt the fingers of the monster already
grasping my neck, and screamed aloud with agony and terror. Fortunately,
as I spoke my native language, Mr. Kirwin alone understood me; but my
gestures and bitter cries were sufficient to affright the other
witnesses.
Why did I not die? More miserable than man ever was before, why did I
not sink into forgetfulness and rest? Death snatches away many blooming
children, the only hopes of their doating parents: how many brides and
youthful lovers have been one day in the bloom of health and hope, and
the next a prey for worms and the decay of the tomb! Of what materials
was I made, that I could thus resist so many shocks, which, like the
turning of the wheel, continually renewed the torture?
But I was doomed to live; and, in two months, found myself as awaking
from a dream, in a prison, stretched on a wretched bed, surrounded by
gaolers, turnkeys, bolts, and all the miserable apparatus of a dungeon.
It was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to understanding: I had
forgotten the particulars of what had happened, and only felt as if some
great misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me; but when I looked around,
and saw the barred windows, and the squalidness of the room in which I
was, all flashed across my memory, and I groaned bitterly.
This sound disturbed an old woman who was sleeping in a chair beside me.
She was a hired nurse, the wife of one of the turnkeys, and her
countenance expressed all those bad qualities which often characterise
that class. The lines of her face were hard and rude, like that of
persons accustomed to see without sympathising in sights of misery. Her
tone expressed her entire indifference; she addressed me in English, and
the voice struck me as one that I had heard during my sufferings:--
"Are you better now, sir?" said she.
I replied in the same language, with a feeble voice, "I believe I am;
but if it be all true, if indeed I did not dream, I am sorry that I am
still alive to feel this misery and horror."
"For that matter," replied the old woman, "if you mean about the
gentleman you murdered, I believe that it were better for you if you
were dead, for I fancy it will go hard with you! However, that's none of
my business; I am sent to nurse you, and get you well; I do my duty with
a safe conscience; it were well if every body did the same."
I turned with loathing from the woman who could utter so unfeeling a
speech to a person just saved, on the very edge of death; but I felt
languid, and unable to reflect on all that had passed. The whole series
of my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed it
were all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the force
of reality.
As the images that floated before me became more distinct, I grew
feverish; a darkness pressed around me: no one was near me who soothed
me with the gentle voice of love; no dear hand supported me. The
physician came and prescribed medicines, and the old woman prepared them
for me; but utter carelessness was visible in the first, and the
expression of brutality was strongly marked in the visage of the second.
Who could be interested in the fate of a murderer, but the hangman who
would gain his fee?
These were my first reflections; but I soon learned that Mr. Kirwin had
shown me extreme kindness. He had caused the best room in the prison to
be prepared for me (wretched indeed was the best); and it was he who had
provided a physician and a nurse. It is true, he seldom came to see me;
for, although he ardently desired to relieve the sufferings of every
human creature, he did not wish to be present at the agonies and
miserable ravings of a murderer. He came, therefore, sometimes, to see
that I was not neglected; but his visits were short, and with long
intervals.
One day, while I was gradually recovering, I was seated in a chair, my
eyes half open, and my cheeks livid like those in death. I was overcome
by gloom and misery, and often reflected I had better seek death than
desire to remain in a world which to me was replete with wretchedness.
At one time I considered whether I should not declare myself guilty, and
suffer the penalty of the law, less innocent than poor Justine had been.
Such were my thoughts, when the door of my apartment was opened, and Mr.
Kirwin entered. His countenance expressed sympathy and compassion; he
drew a chair close to mine, and addressed me in French--
"I fear that this place is very shocking to you; can I do any thing to
make you more comfortable?"
"I thank you; but all that you mention is nothing to me: on the whole
earth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving."
"I know that the sympathy of a stranger can be but of little relief to
one borne down as you are by so strange a misfortune. But you will, I
hope, soon quit this melancholy abode; for, doubtless, evidence can
easily be brought to free you from the criminal charge."
"That is my least concern: I am, by a course of strange events, become
the most miserable of mortals. Persecuted and tortured as I am and have
been, can death be any evil to me?"
"Nothing indeed could be more unfortunate and agonising than the strange
chances that have lately occurred. You were thrown, by some surprising
accident, on this shore, renowned for its hospitality; seized
immediately, and charged with murder. The first sight that was presented
to your eyes was the body of your friend, murdered in so unaccountable a
manner, and placed, as it were, by some fiend across your path."
As Mr. Kirwin said this, notwithstanding the agitation I endured on this
retrospect of my sufferings, I also felt considerable surprise at the
knowledge he seemed to possess concerning me. I suppose some
astonishment was exhibited in my countenance; for Mr. Kirwin hastened to
say--
"Immediately upon your being taken ill, all the papers that were on your
person were brought me, and I examined them that I might discover some
trace by which I could send to your relations an account of your
misfortune and illness. I found several letters, and, among others, one
which I discovered from its commencement to be from your father. I
instantly wrote to Geneva: nearly two months have elapsed since the
departure of my letter.--But you are ill; even now you tremble: you are
unfit for agitation of any kind."
"This suspense is a thousand times worse than the most horrible event:
tell me what new scene of death has been acted, and whose murder I am
now to lament?"
"Your family is perfectly well," said Mr. Kirwin, with gentleness; "and
some one, a friend, is come to visit you."
I know not by what chain of thought, the idea presented itself, but it
instantly darted into my mind that the murderer had come to mock at my
misery, and taunt me with the death of Clerval, as a new incitement for
me to comply with his hellish desires. I put my hand before my eyes, and
cried out in agony--
"Oh! take him away! I cannot see him; for God's sake, do not let him
enter!"
Mr. Kirwin regarded me with a troubled countenance. He could not help
regarding my exclamation as a presumption of my guilt, and said, in
rather a severe tone--
"I should have thought, young man, that the presence of your father
would have been welcome, instead of inspiring such violent repugnance."
"My father!" cried I, while every feature and every muscle was relaxed
from anguish to pleasure: "is my father indeed come? How kind, how very
kind! But where is he, why does he not hasten to me?"
My change of manner surprised and pleased the magistrate; perhaps he
thought that my former exclamation was a momentary return of delirium,
and now he instantly resumed his former benevolence. He rose, and
quitted the room with my nurse, and in a moment my father entered it.
Nothing, at this moment, could have given me greater pleasure than the
arrival of my father. I stretched out my hand to him, and cried--
"Are you then safe--and Elizabeth--and Ernest?"
My father calmed me with assurances of their welfare, and endeavoured,
by dwelling on these subjects so interesting to my heart, to raise my
desponding spirits; but he soon felt that a prison cannot be the abode
of cheerfulness. "What a place is this that you inhabit, my son!" said
he, looking mournfully at the barred windows, and wretched appearance of
the room. "You travelled to seek happiness, but a fatality seems to
pursue you. And poor Clerval--"
The name of my unfortunate and murdered friend was an agitation too
great to be endured in my weak state; I shed tears.
"Alas! yes, my father," replied I; "some destiny of the most horrible
kind hangs over me, and I must live to fulfil it, or surely I should
have died on the coffin of Henry."
We were not allowed to converse for any length of time, for the
precarious state of my health rendered every precaution necessary that
could ensure tranquillity. Mr. Kirwin came in, and insisted that my
strength should not be exhausted by too much exertion. But the
appearance of my father was to me like that of my good angel, and I
gradually recovered my health.
As my sickness quitted me, I was absorbed by a gloomy and black
melancholy, that nothing could dissipate. The image of Clerval was for
ever before me, ghastly and murdered. More than once the agitation into
which these reflections threw me made my friends dread a dangerous
relapse. Alas! why did they preserve so miserable and detested a life?
It was surely that I might fulfil my destiny, which is now drawing to a
close. Soon, oh! very soon, will death extinguish these throbbings, and
relieve me from the mighty weight of anguish that bears me to the dust;