Frankenstein's Bride (34 page)

C H A PT E R 1 4

"SOME TIME ELAPSED before I learned the history of my friends. It was one which could not fail to impress itself deeply on
my mind, unfolding as it did a number of circumstances, each interesting and wonderful to one so utterly inexperienced as
I was.

“The name of the old man was De Lacey. He was descended from a good family in France, where he had lived for many years in
affluence, respected by his superiors and beloved by his equals. His son was bred in the service of his country, and Agatha
had ranked with ladies of the highest distinction. A few months before my arrival they had lived in a large and luxurious
city called Paris, surrounded by friends and possessed of every enjoyment which virtue, refinement of intellect, or taste,
accompanied by a moderate fortune, could afford.

“The father of Safie had been the cause of their ruin. He was a Turkish merchant and had inhabited Paris for many years, when,
for some reason which I could not learn, he became obnoxious to the government. He was seized and cast into prison the very
day that Safie arrived from Constantinople to join him. He was tried and condemned to death. The injustice of his sentence
was very flagrant; all Paris was indignant; and it was judged that his religion and wealth rather than the crime alleged against
him had been the cause of his condemnation.

“Felix had accidentally been present at the trial; his horror and indignation were uncontrollable when he heard the decision
of the court. He made, at that moment, a solemn vow to deliver him and then looked around for the means. After many fruitless
attempts to gain admittance to the prison, he found a strongly grated window in an unguarded part of the building, which lighted
the dungeon of the unfortunate Muhammadan, who, loaded with chains, waited in despair the execution of the barbarous sentence.
Felix visited the grate at night and made known to the prisoner his intentions in his favor. The Turk, amazed and delighted,
endeavored to kindle the zeal of his deliverer by promises of reward and wealth. Felix rejected his offers with contempt,
yet when he saw the lovely Safie, who was allowed to visit her father and who by her gestures expressed her lively gratitude,
the youth could not help owning to his own mind that the captive possessed a treasure which would fully reward his toil and
hazard.

“The Turk quickly perceived the impression that his daughter had made on the heart of Felix and endeavored to secure him more
entirely in his interests by the promise of her hand in marriage so soon as he should be conveyed to a place of safety. Felix
was too delicate to accept this offer, yet he looked forward to the probability of the event as to the consummation of his
happiness.

“During the ensuing days, while the preparations were going forward for the escape of the merchant, the zeal of Felix was
warmed by several letters that he received from this lovely girl, who found means to express her thoughts in the language
of her lover by the aid of an old man, a servant of her father who understood French. She thanked him in the most ardent terms
for his intended services towards her parent, and at the same time she gently deplored her own fate.

“I have copies of these letters, for I found means, during my residence in the hovel, to procure the implements of writing;
and the letters were often in the hands of Felix or Agatha. Before I depart I will give them to you; they will prove the truth
of my tale; but at present, as the sun is already far declined, I shall only have time to repeat the substance of them to
you.

“Safie related that her mother was a Christian Arab, seized and made a slave by the Turks; recommended by her beauty, she
had won the heart of the father of Safie, who married her. The young girl spoke in high and enthusiastic terms of her mother,
who, born in freedom, spurned the bondage to which she was now reduced. She instructed her daughter in the tenets of her religion
and taught her to aspire to higher powers of intellect and an independence of spirit forbidden to the female followers of
Muhammad. This lady died, but her lessons were indelibly impressed on the mind of Safie, who sickened at the prospect of again
returning to Asia and being immured within the walls of a harem, allowed only to occupy herself with infantile amusements,
ill-suited to the temper of her soul, now accustomed to grand ideas and a noble emulation for virtue. The prospect of marrying
a Christian and remaining in a country where women were allowed to take a rank in society was enchanting to her.

“The day for the execution of the Turk was fixed, but on the night previous to it he quitted his prison and before morning
was distant many leagues from Paris. Felix had procured passports in the name of his father, sister, and himself. He had previously
communicated his plan to the former, who aided the deceit by quitting his house, under the pretence of a journey and concealed
himself, with his daughter, in an obscure part of Paris.

“Felix conducted the fugitives through France to Lyons and across Mont Cenis to Leghorn, where the merchant had decided to
wait a favorable opportunity of passing into some part of the Turkish dominions.

“Safie resolved to remain with her father until the moment of his departure, before which time the Turk renewed his promise
that she should be united to his deliverer; and Felix remained with them in expectation of that event; and in the meantime
he enjoyed the society of the Arabian, who exhibited towards him the simplest and tenderest affection. They conversed with
one another through the means of an interpreter, and sometimes with the interpretation of looks; and Safie sang to him the
divine airs of her native country.

“The Turk allowed this intimacy to take place and encouraged the hopes of the youthful lovers, while in his heart he had formed
far other plans. He loathed the idea that his daughter should be united to a Christian, but he feared the resentment of Felix
if he should appear lukewarm, for he knew that he was still in the power of his deliverer if he should choose to betray him
to the Italian state which they inhabited. He revolved a thousand plans by which he should be enabled to prolong the deceit
until it might be no longer necessary, and secretly to take his daughter with him when he departed. His plans were facilitated
by the news which arrived from Paris.

“The government of France were greatly enraged at the escape of their victim and spared no pains to detect and punish his
deliverer. The plot of Felix was quickly discovered, and De Lacey and Agatha were thrown into prison. The news reached Felix
and roused him from his dream of pleasure. His blind and aged father and his gentle sister lay in a noisome dungeon while
he enjoyed the free air and the society of her whom he loved. This idea was torture to him. He quickly arranged with the Turk
that if the latter should find a favorable opportunity for escape before Felix could return to Italy, Safie should remain
as a boarder at a convent at Leghorn; and then, quitting the lovely Arabian, he hastened to Paris and delivered himself up
to the vengeance of the law, hoping to free De Lacey and Agatha by this proceeding.

“He did not succeed. They remained confined for five months before the trial took place, the result of which deprived them
of their fortune and condemned them to a perpetual exile from their native country.

“They found a miserable asylum in the cottage in Germany, where I discovered them. Felix soon learned that the treacherous
Turk, for whom he and his family endured such unheard-of oppression, on discovering that his deliverer was thus reduced to
poverty and ruin, became a traitor to good feeling and honor and had quitted Italy with his daughter, insultingly sending
Felix a pittance of money to aid him, as he said, in some plan of future maintenance.

“Such were the events that preyed on the heart of Felix and rendered him, when I first saw him, the most miserable of his
family. He could have endured poverty, and while this distress had been the meed of his virtue, he gloried in it; but the
ingratitude of the Turk and the loss of his beloved Safie were misfortunes more bitter and irreparable. The arrival of the
Arabian now infused new life into his soul.

“When the news reached Leghorn that Felix was deprived of his wealth and rank, the merchant commanded his daughter to think
no more of her lover, but to prepare to return to her native country. The generous nature of Safie was outraged by this command;
she attempted to expostulate with her father, but he left her angrily, reiterating his tyrannical mandate.

“A few days after, the Turk entered his daughter's apartment and told her hastily that he had reason to believe that his residence
at Leghorn had been divulged and that he should speedily be delivered up to the French government; he had consequently hired
a vessel to convey him to Constantinople, for which city he should sail in a few hours. He intended to leave his daughter
under the care of a confidential servant, to follow at her leisure with the greater part of his property, which had not yet
arrived at Leghorn.

“When alone, Safie resolved in her own mind the plan of conduct that it would become her to pursue in this emergency. A residence
in Turkey was abhorrent to her; her religion and her feelings were alike averse to it. By some papers of her father which
fell into her hands she heard of the exile of her lover and learnt the name of the spot where he then resided. She hesitated
some time, but at length she formed her determination. Taking with her some jewels that belonged to her and a sum of money,
she quitted Italy with an attendant, a native of Leghorn, but who understood the common language of Turkey, and departed for
Germany.

“She arrived in safety at a town about twenty leagues from the cottage of De Lacey, when her attendant fell dangerously ill.
Safie nursed her with the most devoted affection, but the poor girl died, and the Arabian was left alone, unacquainted with
the language of the country and utterly ignorant of the customs of the world. She fell, however, into good hands. The Italian
had mentioned the name of the spot for which they were bound, and after her death the woman of the house in which they had
lived took care that Safie should arrive in safety at the cottage of her lover.”

C H A PT E R 1 5

SUCH WAS THE HISTORY of my beloved cottagers. It impressed me deeply. I learned, from the views of social life which it developed,
to admire their virtues and to deprecate the vices of mankind.

“As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil, benevolence and generosity were ever present before me, inciting within me
a desire to become an actor in the busy scene where so many admirable qualities were called forth and displayed. But in giving
an account of the progress of my intellect, I must not omit a circumstance which occurred in the beginning of the month of
August of the same year.

“One night during my accustomed visit to the neighboring wood where I collected my own food and brought home firing for my
protectors, I found on the ground a leathern portmanteau containing several articles of dress and some books. I eagerly seized
the prize and returned with it to my hovel. Fortunately the books were written in the language, the elements of which I had
acquired at the cottage; they consisted of
Paradise Lost
, a volume of Plutarch's
Lives
, and
The Sorrows of Werter
. The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I now continually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories,
whilst my friends were employed in their ordinary occupations.

“I can hardly describe to you the effect of these books. They produced in me an infinity of new images and feelings, that
sometimes raised me to ecstasy, but more frequently sunk me into the lowest dejection. In the
Sorrows of Werter
, besides the interest of its simple and affecting story, so many opinions are canvassed and so many lights thrown upon what
had hitherto been to me obscure subjects that I found in it a never-ending source of speculation and astonishment. The gentle
and domestic manners it described, combined with lofty sentiments and feelings, which had for their object something out of
self, accorded well with my experience among my protectors and with the wants which were forever alive in my own bosom. But
I thought Werter himself a more divine being than I had ever beheld or imagined; his character contained no pretension, but
it sank deep. The disquisitions upon death and suicide were calculated to fill me with wonder. I did not pretend to enter
into the merits of the case, yet I inclined towards the opinions of the hero, whose extinction I wept, without precisely understanding
it.

“As I read, however, I applied much personally to my own feelings and condition. I found myself similar yet at the same time
strangely unlike to the beings concerning whom I read and to whose conversation I was a listener. I sympathized with and partly
understood them, but I was unformed in mind; I was dependent on none and related to none. ‘The path of my departure was free,'
and there was none to lament my annihilation. My person was hideous and my stature gigantic. What did this mean? Who was I?
What was I? Whence did I come? What was my destination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable to solve them.

“The volume of Plutarch's
Lives
which I possessed contained the histories of the first founders of the ancient republics. This book had a far different effect
upon me from the
Sorrows of Werter
. I learned from Werter's imaginations despondency and gloom, but Plutarch taught me high thoughts; he elevated me above the
wretched sphere of my own reflections, to admire and love the heroes of past ages. Many things I read surpassed my understanding
and experience. I had a very confused knowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of country, mighty rivers, and boundless seas. But
I was perfectly unacquainted with towns and large assemblages of men. The cottage of my protectors had been the only school
in which I had studied human nature, but this book developed new and mightier scenes of action. I read of men concerned in
public affairs, governing or massacring their species. I felt the greatest ardor for virtue rise within me, and abhorrence
for vice, as far as I understood the signification of those terms, relative as they were, as I applied them, to pleasure and
pain alone. Induced by these feelings, I was of course led to admire peaceable lawgivers, Numa, Solon, and Lycurgus, in preference
to Romulus and Theseus. The patriarchal lives of my protectors caused these impressions to take a firm hold on my mind; perhaps,
if my first introduction to humanity had been made by a young soldier, burning for glory and slaughter, I should have been
imbued with different sensations.

“But
Paradise Lost
excited different and far deeper emotions. I read it, as I had read the other volumes which had fallen into my hands, as a
true history. It moved every feeling of wonder and awe that the picture of an omnipotent God warring with his creatures was
capable of exciting. I often referred the several situations, as their similarity struck me, to my own. Like Adam, I was apparently
united by no link to any other being in existence; but his state was far different from mine in every other respect. He had
come forth from the hands of God a perfect creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of his Creator; he
was allowed to converse with and acquire knowledge from beings of a superior nature, but I was wretched, helpless, and alone.
Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition, for often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors,
the bitter gall of envy rose within me.

“Another circumstance strengthened and confirmed these feelings. Soon after my arrival in the hovel I discovered some papers
in the pocket of the dress which I had taken from your laboratory. At first I had neglected them, but now that I was able
to decipher the characters in which they were written, I began to study them with diligence. It was your journal of the four
months that preceded my creation. You minutely described in these papers every step you took in the progress of your work;
this history was mingled with accounts of domestic occurrences. You doubtless recollect these papers. Here they are. Everything
is related in them which bears reference to my accursed origin; the whole detail of that series of disgusting circumstances
which produced it is set in view; the minutest description of my odious and loathsome person is given, in language which painted
your own horrors and rendered mine indelible. I sickened as I read. ‘Hateful day when I received life!' I exclaimed in agony.
‘Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even
you
turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy type
of yours, more horrid even from the very resemblance. Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire and encourage him,
but I am solitary and abhorred.'

“These were the reflections of my hours of despondency and solitude; but when I contemplated the virtues of the cottagers,
their amiable and benevolent dispositions, I persuaded myself that when they should become acquainted with my admiration of
their virtues they would compassionate me and overlook my personal deformity. Could they turn from their door one, however
monstrous, who solicited their compassion and friendship? I resolved, at least, not to despair, but in every way to fit myself
for an interview with them which would decide my fate. I postponed this attempt for some months longer, for the importance
attached to its success inspired me with a dread lest I should fail. Besides, I found that my understanding improved so much
with every day's experience that I was unwilling to commence this undertaking until a few more months should have added to
my sagacity.

“Several changes, in the meantime, took place in the cottage. The presence of Safie diffused happiness among its inhabitants,
and I also found that a greater degree of plenty reigned there. Felix and Agatha spent more time in amusement and conversation,
and were assisted in their labors by servants. They did not appear rich, but they were contented and happy; their feelings
were serene and peaceful, while mine became every day more tumultuous. Increase of knowledge only discovered to me more clearly
what a wretched outcast I was. I cherished hope, it is true, but it vanished when I beheld my person reflected in water or
my shadow in the moonshine, even as that frail image and that inconstant shade.

“I endeavored to crush these fears and to fortify myself for the trial which in a few months I resolved to undergo; and sometimes
I allowed my thoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of Paradise, and dared to fancy amiable and lovely creatures
sympathizing with my feelings and cheering my gloom; their angelic countenances breathed smiles of consolation. But it was
all a dream; no Eve soothed my sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam's supplication to his Creator.
But where was mine? He had abandoned me, and in the bitterness of my heart I cursed him.

“Autumn passed thus. I saw, with surprise and grief, the leaves decay and fall, and nature again assume the barren and bleak
appearance it had worn when I first beheld the woods and the lovely moon. Yet I did not heed the bleakness of the weather;
I was better fitted by my conformation for the endurance of cold than heat. But my chief delights were the sight of the flowers,
the birds, and all the gay apparel of summer; when those deserted me, I turned with more attention towards the cottagers.
Their happiness was not decreased by the absence of summer. They loved and sympathized with one another; and their joys, depending
on each other, were not interrupted by the casualties that took place around them. The more I saw of them, the greater became
my desire to claim their protection and kindness; my heart yearned to be known and loved by these amiable creatures; to see
their sweet looks directed towards me with affection was the utmost limit of my ambition. I dared not think that they would
turn them from me with disdain and horror. The poor that stopped at their door were never driven away. I asked, it is true,
for greater treasures than a little food or rest: I required kindness and sympathy; but I did not believe myself utterly unworthy
of it.

“The winter advanced, and an entire revolution of the seasons had taken place since I awoke into life. My attention at this
time was solely directed towards my plan of introducing myself into the cottage of my protectors. I revolved many projects,
but that on which I finally fixed was to enter the dwelling when the blind old man should be alone. I had sagacity enough
to discover that the unnatural hideousness of my person was the chief object of horror with those who had formerly beheld
me. My voice, although harsh, had nothing terrible in it; I thought, therefore, that if in the absence of his children I could
gain the good will and mediation of the old De Lacey, I might by his means be tolerated by my younger protectors.

“One day, when the sun shone on the red leaves that strewed the ground and diffused cheerfulness, although it denied warmth,
Safie, Agatha, and Felix departed on a long country walk, and the old man, at his own desire, was left alone in the cottage.
When his children had departed, he took up his guitar and played several mournful but sweet airs, more sweet and mournful
than I had ever heard him play before. At first his countenance was illuminated with pleasure, but as he continued, thoughtfulness
and sadness succeeded; at length, laying aside the instrument, he sat absorbed in reflection.

“My heart beat quick; this was the hour and moment of trial, which would decide my hopes or realize my fears. The servants
were gone to a neighboring fair. All was silent in and around the cottage; it was an excellent opportunity; yet, when I proceeded
to execute my plan, my limbs failed me and I sank to the ground. Again I rose, and exerting all the firmness of which I was
master, removed the planks which I had placed before my hovel to conceal my retreat. The fresh air revived me, and with renewed
determination I approached the door of their cottage.

“I knocked. ‘Who is there?' said the old man. ‘Come in.'

“I entered. ‘Pardon this intrusion,' said I; ‘I am a traveler in want of a little rest; you would greatly oblige me if you
would allow me to remain a few minutes before the fire.'

“‘Enter,' said De Lacey, ‘and I will try in what manner I can to relieve your wants; but, unfortunately, my children are from
home, and as I am blind, I am afraid I shall find it difficult to procure food for you.'

“‘Do not trouble yourself, my kind host; I have food; it is warmth and rest only that I need.'

“I sat down, and a silence ensued. I knew that every minute was precious to me, yet I remained irresolute in what manner to
commence the interview, when the old man addressed me. ‘By your language, stranger, I suppose you are my countryman; are you
French?'

“‘No; but I was educated by a French family and understand that language only. I am now going to claim the protection of some
friends, whom I sincerely love, and of whose favor I have some hopes.'

“‘Are they Germans?'

“‘No, they are French. But let us change the subject. I am an unfortunate and deserted creature, I look around and I have
no relation or friend upon earth. These amiable people to whom I go have never seen me and know little of me. I am full of
fears, for if I fail there, I am an outcast in the world forever.'

“‘Do not despair. To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate, but the hearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self-interest,
are full of brotherly love and charity. Rely, therefore, on your hopes; and if these friends are good and amiable, do not
despair.'

“‘They are kind—they are the most excellent creatures in the world; but, unfortunately, they are prejudiced against me. I
have good dispositions; my life has been hitherto harmless and in some degree beneficial; but a fatal prejudice clouds their
eyes, and where they ought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestable monster.'

“‘That is indeed unfortunate; but if you are really blameless, cannot you undeceive them?'