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
forever
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
daemon
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
daemon
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 daemon
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 forever.
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 daemon
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
daemon. 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
forever, 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
civilized 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.