Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus
autumn so unhappy, flying to solitude, from the society of every
creature, I could not help supposing that you might regret our
connection, and believe yourself bound in honour to fulfil the wishes of
your parents, although they opposed themselves to your inclinations. But
this is false reasoning. I confess to you, my friend, that I love you,
and that in my airy dreams of futurity you have been my constant friend
and companion. But it is your happiness I desire as well as my own, when
I declare to you, that our marriage would render me eternally miserable,
unless it were the dictate of your own free choice. Even now I weep to
think, that, borne down as you are by the cruellest misfortunes, you may
stifle, by the word _honour_, all hope of that love and happiness which
would alone restore you to yourself. I, who have so disinterested an
affection for you, may increase your miseries tenfold, by being an
obstacle to your wishes. Ah! Victor, be assured that your cousin and
playmate has too sincere a love for you not to be made miserable by this
supposition. Be happy, my friend; and if you obey me in this one
request, remain satisfied that nothing on earth will have the power to
interrupt my tranquillity.
"Do not let this letter disturb you; do not answer to-morrow, or the
next day, or even until you come, if it will give you pain. My uncle
will send me news of your health; and if I see but one smile on your
lips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, I
shall need no other happiness.
"ELIZABETH LAVENZA.
"Geneva, May 18th, 17--."
* * * * *
This letter revived in my memory what I had before forgotten, the threat
of the fiend--"_I will be with you on your wedding night!_" Such was my
sentence, and on that night would the dæmon employ every art to destroy
me, and tear me from the glimpse of happiness which promised partly to
console my sufferings. On that night he had determined to consummate his
crimes by my death. Well, be it so; a deadly struggle would then
assuredly take place, in which if he were victorious I should be at
peace, and his power over me be at an end. If he were vanquished, I
should be a free man. Alas! what freedom? such as the peasant enjoys
when his family have been massacred before his eyes, his cottage burnt,
his lands laid waste, and he is turned adrift, homeless, penniless, and
alone, but free. Such would be my liberty, except that in my Elizabeth I
possessed a treasure; alas! balanced by those horrors of remorse and
guilt, which would pursue me until death.
Sweet and beloved Elizabeth! I read and re-read her letter, and some
softened feelings stole into my heart, and dared to whisper paradisiacal
dreams of love and joy; but the apple was already eaten, and the angel's
arm bared to drive me from all hope. Yet I would die to make her happy.
If the monster executed his threat, death was inevitable; yet, again, I
considered whether my marriage would hasten my fate. My destruction
might indeed arrive a few months sooner; but if my torturer should
suspect that I postponed it, influenced by his menaces, he would surely
find other, and perhaps more dreadful means of revenge. He had vowed _to
be with me on my wedding-night_, yet he did not consider that threat as
binding him to peace in the mean time; for, as if to show me that he was
not yet satiated with blood, he had murdered Clerval immediately after
the enunciation of his threats. I resolved, therefore, that if my
immediate union with my cousin would conduce either to hers or my
father's happiness, my adversary's designs against my life should not
retard it a single hour.
In this state of mind I wrote to Elizabeth. My letter was calm and
affectionate. "I fear, my beloved girl," I said, "little happiness
remains for us on earth; yet all that I may one day enjoy is centred in
you. Chase away your idle fears; to you alone do I consecrate my life,
and my endeavours for contentment. I have one secret, Elizabeth, a
dreadful one; when revealed to you, it will chill your frame with
horror, and then, far from being surprised at my misery, you will only
wonder that I survive what I have endured. I will confide this tale of
misery and terror to you the day after our marriage shall take place;
for, my sweet cousin, there must be perfect confidence between us. But
until then, I conjure you, do not mention or allude to it. This I most
earnestly entreat, and I know you will comply."
In about a week after the arrival of Elizabeth's letter, we returned to
Geneva. The sweet girl welcomed me with warm affection; yet tears were
in her eyes, as she beheld my emaciated frame and feverish cheeks. I saw
a change in her also. She was thinner, and had lost much of that
heavenly vivacity that had before charmed me; but her gentleness, and
soft looks of compassion, made her a more fit companion for one blasted
and miserable as I was.
The tranquillity which I now enjoyed did not endure. Memory brought
madness with it; and when I thought of what had passed, a real insanity
possessed me; sometimes I was furious, and burnt with rage; sometimes
low and despondent. I neither spoke, nor looked at any one, but sat
motionless, bewildered by the multitude of miseries that overcame me.
Elizabeth alone had the power to draw me from these fits; her gentle
voice would soothe me when transported by passion, and inspire me with
human feelings when sunk in torpor. She wept with me, and for me. When
reason returned, she would remonstrate, and endeavour to inspire me with
resignation. Ah! it is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for
the guilty there is no peace. The agonies of remorse poison the luxury
there is otherwise sometimes found in indulging the excess of grief.
Soon after my arrival, my father spoke of my immediate marriage with
Elizabeth. I remained silent.
"Have you, then, some other attachment?"
"None on earth. I love Elizabeth, and look forward to our union with
delight. Let the day therefore be fixed; and on it I will consecrate
myself, in life or death, to the happiness of my cousin."
"My dear Victor, do not speak thus. Heavy misfortunes have befallen us;
but let us only cling closer to what remains, and transfer our love for
those whom we have lost, to those who yet live. Our circle will be
small, but bound close by the ties of affection and mutual misfortune.
And when time shall have softened your despair, new and dear objects of
care will be born to replace those of whom we have been so cruelly
deprived."
Such were the lessons of my father. But to me the remembrance of the
threat returned: nor can you wonder, that, omnipotent as the fiend had
yet been in his deeds of blood, I should almost regard him as
invincible; and that when he had pronounced the words, "I shall be with
you on your wedding-night," I should regard the threatened fate as
unavoidable. But death was no evil to me, if the loss of Elizabeth were
balanced with it; and I therefore, with a contented and even cheerful
countenance, agreed with my father, that if my cousin would consent, the
ceremony should take place in ten days, and thus put, as I imagined, the
seal to my fate.
Great God! if for one instant I had thought what might be the hellish
intention of my fiendish adversary, I would rather have banished myself
for ever from my native country, and wandered a friendless outcast over
the earth, than have consented to this miserable marriage. But, as if
possessed of magic powers, the monster had blinded me to his real
intentions; and when I thought that I had prepared only my own death, I
hastened that of a far dearer victim.
As the period fixed for our marriage drew nearer, whether from cowardice
or a prophetic feeling, I felt my heart sink within me. But I concealed
my feelings by an appearance of hilarity, that brought smiles and joy to
the countenance of my father, but hardly deceived the ever-watchful and
nicer eye of Elizabeth. She looked forward to our union with placid
contentment, not unmingled with a little fear, which past misfortunes
had impressed, that what now appeared certain and tangible happiness,
might soon dissipate into an airy dream, and leave no trace but deep and
everlasting regret.
Preparations were made for the event; congratulatory visits were
received; and all wore a smiling appearance. I shut up, as well as I
could, in my own heart the anxiety that preyed there, and entered with
seeming earnestness into the plans of my father, although they might
only serve as the decorations of my tragedy. Through my father's
exertions, a part of the inheritance of Elizabeth had been restored to
her by the Austrian government. A small possession on the shores of Como
belonged to her. It was agreed that, immediately after our union, we
should proceed to Villa Lavenza, and spend our first days of happiness
beside the beautiful lake near which it stood.
In the mean time I took every precaution to defend my person, in case
the fiend should openly attack me. I carried pistols and a dagger
constantly about me, and was ever on the watch to prevent artifice; and
by these means gained a greater degree of tranquillity. Indeed, as the
period approached, the threat appeared more as a delusion, not to be
regarded as worthy to disturb my peace, while the happiness I hoped for
in my marriage wore a greater appearance of certainty, as the day fixed
for its solemnisation drew nearer, and I heard it continually spoken of
as an occurrence which no accident could possibly prevent.
Elizabeth seemed happy; my tranquil demeanour contributed greatly to
calm her mind. But on the day that was to fulfil my wishes and my
destiny, she was melancholy, and a presentiment of evil pervaded her;
and perhaps also she thought of the dreadful secret which I had promised
to reveal to her on the following day. My father was in the mean time
overjoyed, and, in the bustle of preparation, only recognised in the
melancholy of his niece the diffidence of a bride.
After the ceremony was performed, a large party assembled at my
father's; but it was agreed that Elizabeth and I should commence our
journey by water, sleeping that night at Evian, and continuing our
voyage on the following day. The day was fair, the wind favourable, all
smiled on our nuptial embarkation.
Those were the last moments of my life during which I enjoyed the
feeling of happiness. We passed rapidly along: the sun was hot, but we
were sheltered from its rays by a kind of canopy, while we enjoyed the
beauty of the scene, sometimes on one side of the lake, where we saw
Mont Salêve, the pleasant banks of Montalègre, and at a distance,
surmounting all, the beautiful Mont Blanc, and the assemblage of snowy
mountains that in vain endeavour to emulate her; sometimes coasting the
opposite banks, we saw the mighty Jura opposing its dark side to the
ambition that would quit its native country, and an almost
insurmountable barrier to the invader who should wish to enslave it.
I took the hand of Elizabeth: "You are sorrowful, my love. Ah! if you
knew what I have suffered, and what I may yet endure, you would
endeavour to let me taste the quiet and freedom from despair, that this
one day at least permits me to enjoy."
"Be happy, my dear Victor," replied Elizabeth; "there is, I hope,
nothing to distress you; and be assured that if a lively joy is not
painted in my face, my heart is contented. Something whispers to me not
to depend too much on the prospect that is opened before us; but I will
not listen to such a sinister voice. Observe how fast we move along, and
how the clouds, which sometimes obscure and sometimes rise above the
dome of Mont Blanc, render this scene of beauty still more interesting.