Chapter 20: Frankenstein: The 1818 Text by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

I sat one evening in my laboratory; the sun had set, and the moon was just
rising from the sea; I had not sufficient light for my employment, and I
remained idle, in a pause of consideration of whether I should leave my
labour for the night or hasten its conclusion by an unremitting attention
to it. As I sat, a train of reflection occurred to me which led me to
consider the effects of what I was now doing. Three years before, I was
engaged in the same manner and had created a fiend whose unparalleled
barbarity had desolated my heart and filled it for ever with the bitterest
remorse. I was now about to form another being of whose dispositions I was
alike ignorant; she might become ten thousand times more malignant than her
mate and delight, for its own sake, in murder and wretchedness. He had
sworn to quit the neighbourhood of man and hide himself in deserts, but she
had not; and she, who in all probability was to become a thinking and
reasoning animal, might refuse to comply with a compact made before her
creation. They might even hate each other; the creature who already lived
loathed his own deformity, and might he not conceive a greater abhorrence
for it when it came before his eyes in the female form? She also might turn
with disgust from him to the superior beauty of man; she might quit him,
and he be again alone, exasperated by the fresh provocation of being
deserted by one of his own species.

Even if they were to leave Europe and inhabit the deserts of the new world,
yet one of the first results of those sympathies for which the dæmon
thirsted would be children, and a race of devils would be propagated upon
the earth who might make the very existence of the species of man a
condition precarious and full of terror. Had I right, for my own benefit,
to inflict this curse upon everlasting generations? I had before been moved
by the sophisms of the being I had created; I had been struck senseless by
his fiendish threats; but now, for the first time, the wickedness of my
promise burst upon me; I shuddered to think that future ages might curse me
as their pest, whose selfishness had not hesitated to buy its own peace at
the price, perhaps, of the existence of the whole human race.

I trembled and my heart failed within me, when, on looking up, I saw by
the light of the moon the dæmon at the casement. A ghastly grin
wrinkled his lips as he gazed on me, where I sat fulfilling the task
which he had allotted to me. Yes, he had followed me in my travels; he
had loitered in forests, hid himself in caves, or taken refuge in wide
and desert heaths; and he now came to mark my progress and claim the
fulfilment of my promise.

As I looked on him, his countenance expressed the utmost extent of
malice and treachery. I thought with a sensation of madness on my
promise of creating another like to him, and trembling with passion,
tore to pieces the thing on which I was engaged. The wretch saw me
destroy the creature on whose future existence he depended for
happiness, and with a howl of devilish despair and revenge, withdrew.

I left the room, and locking the door, made a solemn vow in my own
heart never to resume my labours; and then, with trembling steps, I
sought my own apartment. I was alone; none were near me to dissipate
the gloom and relieve me from the sickening oppression of the most
terrible reveries.

Several hours passed, and I remained near my window gazing on the sea;
it was almost motionless, for the winds were hushed, and all nature
reposed under the eye of the quiet moon. A few fishing vessels alone
specked the water, and now and then the gentle breeze wafted the sound
of voices as the fishermen called to one another. I felt the silence,
although I was hardly conscious of its extreme profundity, until my ear
was suddenly arrested by the paddling of oars near the shore, and a
person landed close to my house.

In a few minutes after, I heard the creaking of my door, as if some one
endeavoured to open it softly. I trembled from head to foot; I felt a
presentiment of who it was and wished to rouse one of the peasants who
dwelt in a cottage not far from mine; but I was overcome by the sensation
of helplessness, so often felt in frightful dreams, when you in vain
endeavour to fly from an impending danger, and was rooted to the spot.

Presently I heard the sound of footsteps along the passage; the door
opened, and the wretch whom I dreaded appeared. Shutting the door, he
approached me and said in a smothered voice,

“You have destroyed the work which you began; what is it that you
intend? Do you dare to break your promise? I have endured toil and misery;
I left Switzerland with you; I crept along the shores of the Rhine, among
its willow islands and over the summits of its hills. I have dwelt many
months in the heaths of England and among the deserts of Scotland. I have
endured incalculable fatigue, and cold, and hunger; do you dare destroy my
hopes?”

“Begone! I do break my promise; never will I create another like
yourself, equal in deformity and wickedness.”

“Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself
unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power; you believe
yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of
day will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your master;
obey!”

“The hour of my irresolution is past, and the period of your power is
arrived. Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness; but
they confirm me in a determination of not creating you a companion in
vice. Shall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a dæmon whose
delight is in death and wretchedness? Begone! I am firm, and your
words will only exasperate my rage.”

The monster saw my determination in my face and gnashed his teeth in the
impotence of anger. “Shall each man,” cried he, “find a
wife for his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had
feelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn.
Man! You may hate, but beware! Your hours will pass in dread and misery,
and soon the bolt will fall which must ravish from you your happiness for
ever. Are you to be happy while I grovel in the intensity of my
wretchedness? You can blast my other passions, but revenge
remains—revenge, henceforth dearer than light or food! I may die, but
first you, my tyrant and tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on your
misery. Beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful. I will watch with
the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom. Man, you shall
repent of the injuries you inflict.”

“Devil, cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice.
I have declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend
beneath words. Leave me; I am inexorable.”

“It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your
wedding-night.”

I started forward and exclaimed, “Villain! Before you sign my
death-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe.”

I would have seized him, but he eluded me and quitted the house with
precipitation. In a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shot
across the waters with an arrowy swiftness and was soon lost amidst the
waves.

All was again silent, but his words rang in my ears. I burned with rage to
pursue the murderer of my peace and precipitate him into the ocean. I
walked up and down my room hastily and perturbed, while my imagination
conjured up a thousand images to torment and sting me. Why had I not
followed him and closed with him in mortal strife? But I had suffered him
to depart, and he had directed his course towards the mainland. I shuddered
to think who might be the next victim sacrificed to his insatiate revenge.
And then I thought again of his words—“_I will be with you on
your wedding-night._” That, then, was the period fixed for the
fulfilment of my destiny. In that hour I should die and at once satisfy and
extinguish his malice. The prospect did not move me to fear; yet when I
thought of my beloved Elizabeth, of her tears and endless sorrow, when she
should find her lover so barbarously snatched from her, tears, the first I
had shed for many months, streamed from my eyes, and I resolved not to fall
before my enemy without a bitter struggle.

The night passed away, and the sun rose from the ocean; my feelings became
calmer, if it may be called calmness when the violence of rage sinks into
the depths of despair. I left the house, the horrid scene of the last
night’s contention, and walked on the beach of the sea, which I
almost regarded as an insuperable barrier between me and my fellow
creatures; nay, a wish that such should prove the fact stole across me. I
desired that I might pass my life on that barren rock, wearily, it is true,
but uninterrupted by any sudden shock of misery. If I returned, it was to
be sacrificed or to see those whom I most loved die under the grasp of a
dæmon whom I had myself created.

I walked about the isle like a restless spectre, separated from all it
loved and miserable in the separation. When it became noon, and the
sun rose higher, I lay down on the grass and was overpowered by a deep
sleep. I had been awake the whole of the preceding night, my nerves
were agitated, and my eyes inflamed by watching and misery. The sleep
into which I now sank refreshed me; and when I awoke, I again felt as
if I belonged to a race of human beings like myself, and I began to
reflect upon what had passed with greater composure; yet still the
words of the fiend rang in my ears like a death-knell; they appeared
like a dream, yet distinct and oppressive as a reality.

The sun had far descended, and I still sat on the shore, satisfying my
appetite, which had become ravenous, with an oaten cake, when I saw a
fishing-boat land close to me, and one of the men brought me a packet;
it contained letters from Geneva, and one from Clerval entreating me to
join him. He said that he was wearing away his time fruitlessly where
he was, that letters from the friends he had formed in London desired
his return to complete the negotiation they had entered into for his
Indian enterprise. He could not any longer delay his departure; but as
his journey to London might be followed, even sooner than he now
conjectured, by his longer voyage, he entreated me to bestow as much of
my society on him as I could spare. He besought me, therefore, to
leave my solitary isle and to meet him at Perth, that we might proceed
southwards together. This letter in a degree recalled me to life, and
I determined to quit my island at the expiration of two days.

Yet, before I departed, there was a task to perform, on which I shuddered
to reflect; I must pack up my chemical instruments, and for that purpose I
must enter the room which had been the scene of my odious work, and I must
handle those utensils the sight of which was sickening to me. The next
morning, at daybreak, I summoned sufficient courage and unlocked the door
of my laboratory. The remains of the half-finished creature, whom I had
destroyed, lay scattered on the floor, and I almost felt as if I had
mangled the living flesh of a human being. I paused to collect myself and
then entered the chamber. With trembling hand I conveyed the instruments
out of the room, but I reflected that I ought not to leave the relics of my
work to excite the horror and suspicion of the peasants; and I accordingly
put them into a basket, with a great quantity of stones, and laying them
up, determined to throw them into the sea that very night; and in the
meantime I sat upon the beach, employed in cleaning and arranging my
chemical apparatus.

Nothing could be more complete than the alteration that had taken place
in my feelings since the night of the appearance of the dæmon. I had
before regarded my promise with a gloomy despair as a thing that, with
whatever consequences, must be fulfilled; but I now felt as if a film
had been taken from before my eyes and that I for the first time saw
clearly. The idea of renewing my labours did not for one instant occur
to me; the threat I had heard weighed on my thoughts, but I did not
reflect that a voluntary act of mine could avert it. I had resolved in
my own mind that to create another like the fiend I had first made
would be an act of the basest and most atrocious selfishness, and I
banished from my mind every thought that could lead to a different
conclusion.

Between two and three in the morning the moon rose; and I then, putting my
basket aboard a little skiff, sailed out about four miles from the shore.
The scene was perfectly solitary; a few boats were returning towards land,
but I sailed away from them. I felt as if I was about the commission of a
dreadful crime and avoided with shuddering anxiety any encounter with my
fellow creatures. At one time the moon, which had before been clear, was
suddenly overspread by a thick cloud, and I took advantage of the moment of
darkness and cast my basket into the sea; I listened to the gurgling sound
as it sank and then sailed away from the spot. The sky became clouded, but
the air was pure, although chilled by the northeast breeze that was then
rising. But it refreshed me and filled me with such agreeable sensations
that I resolved to prolong my stay on the water, and fixing the rudder in a
direct position, stretched myself at the bottom of the boat. Clouds hid the
moon, everything was obscure, and I heard only the sound of the boat as its
keel cut through the waves; the murmur lulled me, and in a short time I
slept soundly.

I do not know how long I remained in this situation, but when I awoke I
found that the sun had already mounted considerably. The wind was high, and
the waves continually threatened the safety of my little skiff. I found
that the wind was northeast and must have driven me far from the coast from
which I had embarked. I endeavoured to change my course but quickly found
that if I again made the attempt the boat would be instantly filled with
water. Thus situated, my only resource was to drive before the wind. I
confess that I felt a few sensations of terror. I had no compass with me
and was so slenderly acquainted with the geography of this part of the
world that the sun was of little benefit to me. I might be driven into the
wide Atlantic and feel all the tortures of starvation or be swallowed up in
the immeasurable waters that roared and buffeted around me. I had already
been out many hours and felt the torment of a burning thirst, a prelude to
my other sufferings. I looked on the heavens, which were covered by clouds
that flew before the wind, only to be replaced by others; I looked upon the
sea; it was to be my grave. “Fiend,” I exclaimed, “your
task is already fulfilled!” I thought of Elizabeth, of my father, and
of Clerval—all left behind, on whom the monster might satisfy his
sanguinary and merciless passions. This idea plunged me into a reverie so
despairing and frightful that even now, when the scene is on the point of
closing before me for ever, I shudder to reflect on it.

Some hours passed thus; but by degrees, as the sun declined towards the
horizon, the wind died away into a gentle breeze and the sea became
free from breakers. But these gave place to a heavy swell; I felt sick
and hardly able to hold the rudder, when suddenly I saw a line of high
land towards the south.

Almost spent, as I was, by fatigue and the dreadful suspense I endured
for several hours, this sudden certainty of life rushed like a flood of
warm joy to my heart, and tears gushed from my eyes.

How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we have
of life even in the excess of misery! I constructed another sail with a
part of my dress and eagerly steered my course towards the land. It had a
wild and rocky appearance, but as I approached nearer I easily perceived
the traces of cultivation. I saw vessels near the shore and found myself
suddenly transported back to the neighbourhood of civilised man. I
carefully traced the windings of the land and hailed a steeple which I at
length saw issuing from behind a small promontory. As I was in a state of
extreme debility, I resolved to sail directly towards the town, as a place
where I could most easily procure nourishment. Fortunately I had money with
me. As I turned the promontory I perceived a small neat town and a good
harbour, which I entered, my heart bounding with joy at my unexpected
escape.

As I was occupied in fixing the boat and arranging the sails, several
people crowded towards the spot. They seemed much surprised at my
appearance, but instead of offering me any assistance, whispered
together with gestures that at any other time might have produced in me
a slight sensation of alarm. As it was, I merely remarked that they
spoke English, and I therefore addressed them in that language. “My
good friends,” said I, “will you be so kind as to tell me the name of
this town and inform me where I am?”

“You will know that soon enough,” replied a man with a hoarse voice.
“Maybe you are come to a place that will not prove much to your taste,
but you will not be consulted as to your quarters, I promise you.”

I was exceedingly surprised on receiving so rude an answer from a
stranger, and I was also disconcerted on perceiving the frowning and
angry countenances of his companions. “Why do you answer me so
roughly?” I replied. “Surely it is not the custom of Englishmen to
receive strangers so inhospitably.”

“I do not know,” said the man, “what the custom of the
English may be, but it is the custom of the Irish to hate villains.”

While this strange dialogue continued, I perceived the crowd rapidly
increase. Their faces expressed a mixture of curiosity and anger, which
annoyed and in some degree alarmed me. I inquired the way to the inn, but
no one replied. I then moved forward, and a murmuring sound arose from the
crowd as they followed and surrounded me, when an ill-looking man
approaching tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Come, sir, you must
follow me to Mr. Kirwin’s to give an account of yourself.”

“Who is Mr. Kirwin? Why am I to give an account of myself? Is not
this a free country?”

“Ay, sir, free enough for honest folks. Mr. Kirwin is a magistrate,
and you are to give an account of the death of a gentleman who was
found murdered here last night.”

This answer startled me, but I presently recovered myself. I was innocent;
that could easily be proved; accordingly I followed my conductor in silence
and was led to one of the best houses in the town. I was ready to sink from
fatigue and hunger, but being surrounded by a crowd, I thought it politic
to rouse all my strength, that no physical debility might be construed into
apprehension or conscious guilt. Little did I then expect the calamity that
was in a few moments to overwhelm me and extinguish in horror and despair
all fear of ignominy or death.

I must pause here, for it requires all my fortitude to recall the memory of
the frightful events which I am about to relate, in proper detail, to my
recollection.