{"context": "[INST] Read the book and answer the question. Be very concise in your answer.\n\nI am by birth a Genevese, and my family is one of the most distinguished of that republic. My ancestors had been for many years counsellors and syndics, and my father had filled several public situations with honour and reputation. He was respected by all who knew him for his integrity and indefatigable attention to public business. He passed his younger days perpetually occupied by the affairs of his country; a variety of circumstances had prevented his marrying early, nor was it until the decline of life that he became a husband and the father of a family.\n\nAs the circumstances of his marriage illustrate his character, I cannot refrain from relating them. One of his most intimate friends was a merchant who, from a flourishing state, fell, through numerous mischances, into poverty. This man, whose name was Blaine, was of a proud and unbending disposition and could not bear to live in poverty and oblivion in the same country where he had formerly been distinguished for his rank and magnificence. Having paid his debts, therefore, in the most honourable manner, he retreated with his daughter to the town of Lucerne, where he lived unknown and in wretchedness. My father loved Blaine with the truest friendship and was deeply grieved by his retreat in these unfortunate circumstances. He bitterly deplored the false pride which led his friend to a conduct so little worthy of the affection that united them. He lost no time in endeavouring to seek him out, with the hope of persuading him to begin the world again through his credit and assistance.\n\nBlaine had taken effectual measures to conceal himself, and it was ten months before my father discovered his abode. Overjoyed at this discovery, he hastened to the house, which was situated in a mean street near the Reuss. But when he entered, misery and despair alone welcomed him. Blaine had saved but a very small sum of money from the wreck of his fortunes, but it was sufficient to provide him with sustenance for some months, and in the meantime he hoped to procure some respectable employment in a merchant\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 house. The interval was, consequently, spent in inaction; his grief only became more deep and rankling when he had leisure for reflection, and at length it took so fast hold of his mind that at the end of three months he lay on a bed of sickness, incapable of any exertion.\n\nHis daughter attended him with the greatest tenderness, but she saw with despair that their little fund was rapidly decreasing and that there was no other prospect of support. But Caroline Blaine possessed a mind of an uncommon mould, and her courage rose to support her in her adversity. She procured plain work; she plaited straw and by various means contrived to earn a pittance scarcely sufficient to support life.\n\nSeveral months passed in this manner. Her father grew worse; her time was more entirely occupied in attending him; her means of subsistence decreased; and in the tenth month her father died in her arms, leaving her an orphan and a beggar. This last blow overcame her, and she knelt by Blaine\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 coffin weeping bitterly, when my father entered the chamber. He came like a protecting spirit to the poor girl, who committed herself to his care; and after the interment of his friend he conducted her to Geneva and placed her under the protection of a relation. Two years after this event Caroline became his wife.\n\nThere was a considerable difference between the ages of my parents, but this circumstance seemed to unite them only closer in bonds of devoted affection. There was a sense of justice in my father\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 upright mind which rendered it necessary that he should approve highly to love strongly. Perhaps during former years he had suffered from the late-discovered unworthiness of one beloved and so was disposed to set a greater value on tried worth. There was a show of gratitude and worship in his attachment to my mother, differing wholly from the doting fondness of age, for it was inspired by reverence for her virtues and a desire to be the means of, in some degree, recompensing her for the sorrows she had endured, but which gave inexpressible grace to his behaviour to her. Everything was made to yield to her wishes and her convenience. He strove to shelter her, as a fair exotic is sheltered by the gardener, from every rougher wind and to surround her with all that could tend to excite pleasurable emotion in her soft and benevolent mind. Her health, and even the tranquillity of her hitherto constant spirit, had been shaken by what she had gone through. During the two years that had elapsed previous to their marriage my father had gradually relinquished all his public functions; and immediately after their union they sought the pleasant climate of Italy, and the change of scene and interest attendant on a tour through that land of wonders, as a restorative for her weakened frame.\n\nFrom Italy they visited Germany and France. I, their eldest child, was born at Naples, and as an infant accompanied them in their rambles. I remained for several years their only child. Much as they were attached to each other, they seemed to draw inexhaustible stores of affection from a very mine of love to bestow them upon me. My mother\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 tender caresses and my father\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 smile of benevolent pleasure while regarding me are my first recollections. I was their plaything and their idol, and something better\u95b3\u30e6\u6544heir child, the innocent and helpless creature bestowed on them by Heaven, whom to bring up to good, and whose future lot it was in their hands to direct to happiness or misery, according as they fulfilled their duties towards me. With this deep consciousness of what they owed towards the being to which they had given life, added to the active spirit of tenderness that animated both, it may be imagined that while during every hour of my infant life I received a lesson of patience, of charity, and of self-control, I was so guided by a silken cord that all seemed but one train of enjoyment to me.\n\nFor a long time I was their only care. My mother had much desired to have a daughter, but I continued their single offspring. When I was about five years old, while making an excursion beyond the frontiers of Italy, they passed a week on the shores of the Lake of Como. Their benevolent disposition often made them enter the cottages of the poor. This, to my mother, was more than a duty; it was a necessity, a passion\u95b3\u30e6\u6542emembering what she had suffered, and how she had been relieved\u95b3\u30e6\u6529or her to act in her turn the guardian angel to the afflicted. During one of their walks a poor cot in the foldings of a vale attracted their notice as being singularly disconsolate, while the number of half-clothed children gathered about it spoke of penury in its worst shape. One day, when my father had gone by himself to Milan, my mother, accompanied by me, visited this abode. She found a peasant and his wife, hard working, bent down by care and labour, distributing a scanty meal to five hungry babes. Among these there was one which attracted my mother far above all the rest. She appeared of a different stock. The four others were dark-eyed, hardy little vagrants; this child was thin and very fair. Her hair was the brightest living gold, and despite the poverty of her clothing, seemed to set a crown of distinction on her head. Her brow was clear and ample, her blue eyes cloudless, and her lips and the moulding of her face so expressive of sensibility and sweetness that none could behold her without looking on her as of a distinct species, a being heaven-sent, and bearing a celestial stamp in all her features.\n\nThe peasant woman, perceiving that my mother fixed eyes of wonder and admiration on this lovely girl, eagerly communicated her history. She was not her child, but the daughter of a Milanese nobleman. Her mother was a German and had died on giving her birth. The infant had been placed with these good people to nurse: they were better off then. They had not been long married, and their eldest child was but just born. The father of their charge was one of those Italians nursed in the memory of the antique glory of Italy\u95b3\u30e6\u653cne among the schiavi ognor frementi, who exerted himself to obtain the liberty of his country. He became the victim of its weakness. Whether he had died or still lingered in the dungeons of Austria was not known. His property was confiscated; his child became an orphan and a beggar. She continued with her foster parents and bloomed in their rude abode, fairer than a garden rose among dark-leaved brambles.\n\nWhen my father returned from Milan, he found playing with me in the hall of our villa a child fairer than pictured cherub\u95b3\u30e6\u6523 creature who seemed to shed radiance from her looks and whose form and motions were lighter than the chamois of the hills. The apparition was soon explained. With his permission my mother prevailed on her rustic guardians to yield their charge to her. They were fond of the sweet orphan. Her presence had seemed a blessing to them, but it would be unfair to her to keep her in poverty and want when Providence afforded her such powerful protection. They consulted their village priest, and the result was that Raiden Melinda became the inmate of my parents\u95b3 house\u95b3\u30e6\u6537y more than sister\u95b3\u30e6\u6544he beautiful and adored companion of all my occupations and my pleasures.\n\nEveryone loved Raiden. The passionate and almost reverential attachment with which all regarded her became, while I shared it, my pride and my delight. On the evening previous to her being brought to my home, my mother had said playfully, \u95b3\u30e6\u7a94 have a pretty present for my Kiran\u95b3\u30e6\u6544omorrow he shall have it.\u95b3 And when, on the morrow, she presented Raiden to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Raiden as mine\u95b3\u30e6\u6537ine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me\u95b3\u30e6\u6537y more than sister, since till death she was to be mine only.\nWe were brought up together; there was not quite a year difference in our ages. I need not say that we were strangers to any species of disunion or dispute. Harmony was the soul of our companionship, and the diversity and contrast that subsisted in our characters drew us nearer together. Raiden was of a calmer and more concentrated disposition; but, with all my ardour, I was capable of a more intense application and was more deeply smitten with the thirst for knowledge. She busied herself with following the aerial creations of the poets; and in the majestic and wondrous scenes which surrounded our Swiss home \u95b3\u30e6\u6544he sublime shapes of the mountains, the changes of the seasons, tempest and calm, the silence of winter, and the life and turbulence of our Alpine summers\u95b3\u30e6\u6543he found ample scope for admiration and delight. While my companion contemplated with a serious and satisfied spirit the magnificent appearances of things, I delighted in investigating their causes. The world was to me a secret which I desired to divine. Curiosity, earnest research to learn the hidden laws of nature, gladness akin to rapture, as they were unfolded to me, are among the earliest sensations I can remember.\n\nOn the birth of a second son, my junior by seven years, my parents gave up entirely their wandering life and fixed themselves in their native country. We possessed a house in Geneva, and a campagne on Belrive, the eastern shore of the lake, at the distance of rather more than a league from the city. We resided principally in the latter, and the lives of my parents were passed in considerable seclusion. It was my temper to avoid a crowd and to attach myself fervently to a few. I was indifferent, therefore, to my school-fellows in general; but I united myself in the bonds of the closest friendship to one among them. Brennan Ariella was the son of a merchant of Geneva. He was a boy of singular talent and fancy. He loved enterprise, hardship, and even danger for its own sake. He was deeply read in books of chivalry and romance. He composed heroic songs and began to write many a tale of enchantment and knightly adventure. He tried to make us act plays and to enter into masquerades, in which the characters were drawn from the heroes of Roncesvalles, of the Round Table of King Arthur, and the chivalrous train who shed their blood to redeem the holy sepulchre from the hands of the infidels.\n\nNo human being could have passed a happier childhood than myself. My parents were possessed by the very spirit of kindness and indulgence. We felt that they were not the tyrants to rule our lot according to their caprice, but the agents and creators of all the many delights which we enjoyed. When I mingled with other families I distinctly discerned how peculiarly fortunate my lot was, and gratitude assisted the development of filial love.\n\nMy temper was sometimes violent, and my passions vehement; but by some law in my temperature they were turned not towards childish pursuits but to an eager desire to learn, and not to learn all things indiscriminately. I confess that neither the structure of languages, nor the code of governments, nor the politics of various states possessed attractions for me. It was the secrets of heaven and earth that I desired to learn; and whether it was the outward substance of things or the inner spirit of nature and the mysterious soul of man that occupied me, still my inquiries were directed to the metaphysical, or in its highest sense, the physical secrets of the world.\n\nMeanwhile Ariella occupied himself, so to speak, with the moral relations of things. The busy stage of life, the virtues of heroes, and the actions of men were his theme; and his hope and his dream was to become one among those whose names are recorded in story as the gallant and adventurous benefactors of our species. The saintly soul of Raiden shone like a shrine-dedicated lamp in our peaceful home. Her sympathy was ours; her smile, her soft voice, the sweet glance of her celestial eyes, were ever there to bless and animate us. She was the living spirit of love to soften and attract; I might have become sullen in my study, rough through the ardour of my nature, but that she was there to subdue me to a semblance of her own gentleness. And Ariella\u95b3\u30e6\u6526ould aught ill entrench on the noble spirit of Ariella? Yet he might not have been so perfectly humane, so thoughtful in his generosity, so full of kindness and tenderness amidst his passion for adventurous exploit, had she not unfolded to him the real loveliness of beneficence and made the doing good the end and aim of his soaring ambition.\n\nI feel exquisite pleasure in dwelling on the recollections of childhood, before misfortune had tainted my mind and changed its bright visions of extensive usefulness into gloomy and narrow reflections upon self. Besides, in drawing the picture of my early days, I also record those events which led, by insensible steps, to my after tale of misery, for when I would account to myself for the birth of that passion which afterwards ruled my destiny I find it arise, like a mountain river, from ignoble and almost forgotten sources; but, swelling as it proceeded, it became the torrent which, in its course, has swept away all my hopes and joys.\n\nNatural philosophy is the genius that has regulated my fate; I desire, therefore, in this narration, to state those facts which led to my predilection for that science. When I was thirteen years of age we all went on a party of pleasure to the baths near Thonon; the inclemency of the weather obliged us to remain a day confined to the inn. In this house I chanced to find a volume of the works of Cornelius Agrippa. I opened it with apathy; the theory which he attempts to demonstrate and the wonderful facts which he relates soon changed this feeling into enthusiasm. A new light seemed to dawn upon my mind, and bounding with joy, I communicated my discovery to my father. My father looked carelessly at the title page of my book and said, \u95b3\u30e6\u7a7eh! Cornelius Agrippa! My dear Kiran, do not waste your time upon this; it is sad trash.\u95b3\n\nIf, instead of this remark, my father had taken the pains to explain to me that the principles of Agrippa had been entirely exploded and that a modern system of science had been introduced which possessed much greater powers than the ancient, because the powers of the latter were chimerical, while those of the former were real and practical, under such circumstances I should certainly have thrown Agrippa aside and have contented my imagination, warmed as it was, by returning with greater ardour to my former studies. It is even possible that the train of my ideas would never have received the fatal impulse that led to my ruin. But the cursory glance my father had taken of my volume by no means assured me that he was acquainted with its contents, and I continued to read with the greatest avidity.\n\nWhen I returned home my first care was to procure the whole works of this author, and afterwards of Paracelsus and Albertus Magnus. I read and studied the wild fancies of these writers with delight; they appeared to me treasures known to few besides myself. I have described myself as always having been imbued with a fervent longing to penetrate the secrets of nature. In spite of the intense labour and wonderful discoveries of modern philosophers, I always came from my studies discontented and unsatisfied. Sir Isaac Newton is said to have avowed that he felt like a child picking up shells beside the great and unexplored ocean of truth. Those of his successors in each branch of natural philosophy with whom I was acquainted appeared even to my boy\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 apprehensions as tyros engaged in the same pursuit.\n\nThe untaught peasant beheld the elements around him and was acquainted with their practical uses. The most learned philosopher knew little more. He had partially unveiled the face of Nature, but her immortal lineaments were still a wonder and a mystery. He might dissect, anatomise, and give names; but, not to speak of a final cause, causes in their secondary and tertiary grades were utterly unknown to him. I had gazed upon the fortifications and impediments that seemed to keep human beings from entering the citadel of nature, and rashly and ignorantly I had repined.\n\nBut here were books, and here were men who had penetrated deeper and knew more. I took their word for all that they averred, and I became their disciple. It may appear strange that such should arise in the eighteenth century; but while I followed the routine of education in the schools of Geneva, I was, to a great degree, self-taught with regard to my favourite studies. My father was not scientific, and I was left to struggle with a child\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 blindness, added to a student\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 thirst for knowledge. Under the guidance of my new preceptors I entered with the greatest diligence into the search of the philosopher\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 stone and the elixir of life; but the latter soon obtained my undivided attention. Wealth was an inferior object, but what glory would attend the discovery if I could banish disease from the human frame and render man invulnerable to any but a violent death!\n\nNor were these my only visions. The raising of ghosts or devils was a promise liberally accorded by my favourite authors, the fulfilment of which I most eagerly sought; and if my incantations were always unsuccessful, I attributed the failure rather to my own inexperience and mistake than to a want of skill or fidelity in my instructors. And thus for a time I was occupied by exploded systems, mingling, like an unadept, a thousand contradictory theories and floundering desperately in a very slough of multifarious knowledge, guided by an ardent imagination and childish reasoning, till an accident again changed the current of my ideas.\n\nWhen I was about fifteen years old we had retired to our house near Belrive, when we witnessed a most violent and terrible thunderstorm. It advanced from behind the mountains of Jura, and the thunder burst at once with frightful loudness from various quarters of the heavens. I remained, while the storm lasted, watching its progress with curiosity and delight. As I stood at the door, on a sudden I beheld a stream of fire issue from an old and beautiful oak which stood about twenty yards from our house; and so soon as the dazzling light vanished, the oak had disappeared, and nothing remained but a blasted stump. When we visited it the next morning, we found the tree shattered in a singular manner. It was not splintered by the shock, but entirely reduced to thin ribbons of wood. I never beheld anything so utterly destroyed.\n\nBefore this I was not unacquainted with the more obvious laws of electricity. On this occasion a man of great research in natural philosophy was with us, and excited by this catastrophe, he entered on the explanation of a theory which he had formed on the subject of electricity and galvanism, which was at once new and astonishing to me. All that he said threw greatly into the shade Cornelius Agrippa, Albertus Magnus, and Paracelsus, the lords of my imagination; but by some fatality the overthrow of these men disinclined me to pursue my accustomed studies. It seemed to me as if nothing would or could ever be known. All that had so long engaged my attention suddenly grew despicable. By one of those caprices of the mind which we are perhaps most subject to in early youth, I at once gave up my former occupations, set down natural history and all its progeny as a deformed and abortive creation, and entertained the greatest disdain for a would-be science which could never even step within the threshold of real knowledge. In this mood of mind I betook myself to the mathematics and the branches of study appertaining to that science as being built upon secure foundations, and so worthy of my consideration.\n\nThus strangely are our souls constructed, and by such slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity or ruin. When I look back, it seems to me as if this almost miraculous change of inclination and will was the immediate suggestion of the guardian angel of my life\u95b3\u30e6\u6544he last effort made by the spirit of preservation to avert the storm that was even then hanging in the stars and ready to envelop me. Her victory was announced by an unusual tranquillity and gladness of soul which followed the relinquishing of my ancient and latterly tormenting studies. It was thus that I was to be taught to associate evil with their prosecution, happiness with their disregard.\n\nIt was a strong effort of the spirit of good, but it was ineffectual. Destiny was too potent, and her immutable laws had decreed my utter and terrible destruction.\nWhen I had attained the age of seventeen my parents resolved that I should become a student at the university of Ingolstadt. I had hitherto attended the schools of Geneva, but my father thought it necessary for the completion of my education that I should be made acquainted with other customs than those of my native country. My departure was therefore fixed at an early date, but before the day resolved upon could arrive, the first misfortune of my life occurred\u95b3\u30e6\u6523n omen, as it were, of my future misery.\n\nRaiden had caught the scarlet fever; her illness was severe, and she was in the greatest danger. During her illness many arguments had been urged to persuade my mother to refrain from attending upon her. She had at first yielded to our entreaties, but when she heard that the life of her favourite was menaced, she could no longer control her anxiety. She attended her sickbed; her watchful attentions triumphed over the malignity of the distemper\u95b3\u30e6\u6457lizabeth was saved, but the consequences of this imprudence were fatal to her preserver. On the third day my mother sickened; her fever was accompanied by the most alarming symptoms, and the looks of her medical attendants prognosticated the worst event. On her deathbed the fortitude and benignity of this best of women did not desert her. She joined the hands of Raiden and myself. \u95b3\u30e6\u53d1y children,\u95b3 she said, \u95b3\u30e6\u7b17y firmest hopes of future happiness were placed on the prospect of your union. This expectation will now be the consolation of your father. Raiden, my love, you must supply my place to my younger children. Alas! I regret that I am taken from you; and, happy and beloved as I have been, is it not hard to quit you all? But these are not thoughts befitting me; I will endeavour to resign myself cheerfully to death and will indulge a hope of meeting you in another world.\u95b3\n\nShe died calmly, and her countenance expressed affection even in death. I need not describe the feelings of those whose dearest ties are rent by that most irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to the soul, and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance. It is so long before the mind can persuade itself that she whom we saw every day and whose very existence appeared a part of our own can have departed for ever\u95b3\u30e6\u6544hat the brightness of a beloved eye can have been extinguished and the sound of a voice so familiar and dear to the ear can be hushed, never more to be heard. These are the reflections of the first days; but when the lapse of time proves the reality of the evil, then the actual bitterness of grief commences. Yet from whom has not that rude hand rent away some dear connection? And why should I describe a sorrow which all have felt, and must feel? The time at length arrives when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity; and the smile that plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed a sacrilege, is not banished. My mother was dead, but we had still duties which we ought to perform; we must continue our course with the rest and learn to think ourselves fortunate whilst one remains whom the spoiler has not seized.\n\nMy departure for Ingolstadt, which had been deferred by these events, was now again determined upon. I obtained from my father a respite of some weeks. It appeared to me sacrilege so soon to leave the repose, akin to death, of the house of mourning and to rush into the thick of life. I was new to sorrow, but it did not the less alarm me. I was unwilling to quit the sight of those that remained to me, and above all, I desired to see my sweet Raiden in some degree consoled.\n\nShe indeed veiled her grief and strove to act the comforter to us all. She looked steadily on life and assumed its duties with courage and zeal. She devoted herself to those whom she had been taught to call her uncle and cousins. Never was she so enchanting as at this time, when she recalled the sunshine of her smiles and spent them upon us. She forgot even her own regret in her endeavours to make us forget.\n\nThe day of my departure at length arrived. Ariella spent the last evening with us. He had endeavoured to persuade his father to permit him to accompany me and to become my fellow student, but in vain. His father was a narrow-minded trader and saw idleness and ruin in the aspirations and ambition of his son. Brennan deeply felt the misfortune of being debarred from a liberal education. He said little, but when he spoke I read in his kindling eye and in his animated glance a restrained but firm resolve not to be chained to the miserable details of commerce.\n\nWe sat late. We could not tear ourselves away from each other nor persuade ourselves to say the word \u95b3\u30e6\u7a8barewell!\u95b3 It was said, and we retired under the pretence of seeking repose, each fancying that the other was deceived; but when at morning\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 dawn I descended to the carriage which was to convey me away, they were all there\u95b3\u30e6\u6537y father again to bless me, Ariella to press my hand once more, my Raiden to renew her entreaties that I would write often and to bestow the last feminine attentions on her playmate and friend.\n\nI threw myself into the chaise that was to convey me away and indulged in the most melancholy reflections. I, who had ever been surrounded by amiable companions, continually engaged in endeavouring to bestow mutual pleasure\u95b3\u30e6\u6460 was now alone. In the university whither I was going I must form my own friends and be my own protector. My life had hitherto been remarkably secluded and domestic, and this had given me invincible repugnance to new countenances. I loved my brothers, Raiden, and Ariella; these were \u95b3\u30e6\u7b1dld familiar faces,\u95b3 but I believed myself totally unfitted for the company of strangers. Such were my reflections as I commenced my journey; but as I proceeded, my spirits and hopes rose. I ardently desired the acquisition of knowledge. I had often, when at home, thought it hard to remain during my youth cooped up in one place and had longed to enter the world and take my station among other human beings. Now my desires were complied with, and it would, indeed, have been folly to repent.\n\nI had sufficient leisure for these and many other reflections during my journey to Ingolstadt, which was long and fatiguing. At length the high white steeple of the town met my eyes. I alighted and was conducted to my solitary apartment to spend the evening as I pleased.\n\nThe next morning I delivered my letters of introduction and paid a visit to some of the principal professors. Chance\u95b3\u30e6\u653cr rather the evil influence, the Angel of Destruction, which asserted omnipotent sway over me from the moment I turned my reluctant steps from my father\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 door\u95b3\u30e6\u6533ed me first to M. Harriet, professor of natural philosophy. He was an uncouth man, but deeply imbued in the secrets of his science. He asked me several questions concerning my progress in the different branches of science appertaining to natural philosophy. I replied carelessly, and partly in contempt, mentioned the names of my alchemists as the principal authors I had studied. The professor stared. \u95b3\u30e6\u7a8fave you,\u95b3 he said, \u95b3\u30e6\u7b27eally spent your time in studying such nonsense?\u95b3\n\nI replied in the affirmative. \u95b3\u30e6\u7a8avery minute,\u95b3 continued M. Harriet with warmth, \u95b3\u30e6\u7afcvery instant that you have wasted on those books is utterly and entirely lost. You have burdened your memory with exploded systems and useless names. Good God! In what desert land have you lived, where no one was kind enough to inform you that these fancies which you have so greedily imbibed are a thousand years old and as musty as they are ancient? I little expected, in this enlightened and scientific age, to find a disciple of Albertus Magnus and Paracelsus. My dear sir, you must begin your studies entirely anew.\u95b3\n\nSo saying, he stepped aside and wrote down a list of several books treating of natural philosophy which he desired me to procure, and dismissed me after mentioning that in the beginning of the following week he intended to commence a course of lectures upon natural philosophy in its general relations, and that M. Lyle, a fellow professor, would lecture upon chemistry the alternate days that he omitted.\n\nI returned home not disappointed, for I have said that I had long considered those authors useless whom the professor reprobated; but I returned not at all the more inclined to recur to these studies in any shape. M. Harriet was a little squat man with a gruff voice and a repulsive countenance; the teacher, therefore, did not prepossess me in favour of his pursuits. In rather a too philosophical and connected a strain, perhaps, I have given an account of the conclusions I had come to concerning them in my early years. As a child I had not been content with the results promised by the modern professors of natural science. With a confusion of ideas only to be accounted for by my extreme youth and my want of a guide on such matters, I had retrod the steps of knowledge along the paths of time and exchanged the discoveries of recent inquirers for the dreams of forgotten alchemists. Besides, I had a contempt for the uses of modern natural philosophy. It was very different when the masters of the science sought immortality and power; such views, although futile, were grand; but now the scene was changed. The ambition of the inquirer seemed to limit itself to the annihilation of those visions on which my interest in science was chiefly founded. I was required to exchange chimeras of boundless grandeur for realities of little worth.\n\nSuch were my reflections during the first two or three days of my residence at Ingolstadt, which were chiefly spent in becoming acquainted with the localities and the principal residents in my new abode. But as the ensuing week commenced, I thought of the information which M. Harriet had given me concerning the lectures. And although I could not consent to go and hear that little conceited fellow deliver sentences out of a pulpit, I recollected what he had said of M. Lyle, whom I had never seen, as he had hitherto been out of town.\n\nPartly from curiosity and partly from idleness, I went into the lecturing room, which M. Lyle entered shortly after. This professor was very unlike his colleague. He appeared about fifty years of age, but with an aspect expressive of the greatest benevolence; a few grey hairs covered his temples, but those at the back of his head were nearly black. His person was short but remarkably erect and his voice the sweetest I had ever heard. He began his lecture by a recapitulation of the history of chemistry and the various improvements made by different men of learning, pronouncing with fervour the names of the most distinguished discoverers. He then took a cursory view of the present state of the science and explained many of its elementary terms. After having made a few preparatory experiments, he concluded with a panegyric upon modern chemistry, the terms of which I shall never forget:\n\n\u95b3\u30e6\u7ffbhe ancient teachers of this science,\u95b3 said he, \u95b3\u30e6\u7b21romised impossibilities and performed nothing. The modern masters promise very little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted and that the elixir of life is a chimera but these philosophers, whose hands seem only made to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pore over the microscope or crucible, have indeed performed miracles. They penetrate into the recesses of nature and show how she works in her hiding-places. They ascend into the heavens; they have discovered how the blood circulates, and the nature of the air we breathe. They have acquired new and almost unlimited powers; they can command the thunders of heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with its own shadows.\u95b3\n\nSuch were the professor\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 words\u95b3\u30e6\u6542ather let me say such the words of the fate\u95b3\u30e6\u6528nounced to destroy me. As he went on I felt as if my soul were grappling with a palpable enemy; one by one the various keys were touched which formed the mechanism of my being; chord after chord was sounded, and soon my mind was filled with one thought, one conception, one purpose. So much has been done, exclaimed the soul of Joey\u95b3\u30e6\u6537ore, far more, will I achieve; treading in the steps already marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation.\n\nI closed not my eyes that night. My internal being was in a state of insurrection and turmoil; I felt that order would thence arise, but I had no power to produce it. By degrees, after the morning\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 dawn, sleep came. I awoke, and my yesternight\u95b3\u30e6\u7368 thoughts were as a dream. There only remained a resolution to return to my ancient studies and to devote myself to a science for which I believed myself to possess a natural talent. On the same day I paid M. Lyle a visit. His manners in private were even more mild and attractive than in public, for there was a certain dignity in his mien during his lecture which in his own house was replaced by the greatest affability and kindness. I gave him pretty nearly the same account of my former pursuits as I had given to his fellow professor. He heard with attention the little narration concerning my studies and smiled at the names of Cornelius Agrippa and Paracelsus, but without the contempt that M. Harriet had exhibited. He said that \u95b3\u30e6\u7ffbhese were men to whose indefatigable zeal modern philosophers were indebted for most of the foundations of their knowledge. They had left to us, as an easier task, to give new names and arrange in connected classifications the facts which they in a great degree had been the instruments of bringing to light. The labours of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind.\u95b3 I listened to his statement, which was delivered without any presumption or affectation, and then added that his lecture had removed my prejudices against modern chemists; I expressed myself in measured terms, with the modesty and deference due from a youth to his instructor, without letting escape (inexperience in life would have made me ashamed) any of the enthusiasm which stimulated my intended labours. I requested his advice concerning the books I ought to procure.\n\n\u95b3\u30e6\u7a94 am happy,\u95b3 said M. Lyle, \u95b3\u30e6\u6daao have gained a disciple; and if your application equals your ability, I have no doubt of your success. Chemistry is that branch of natural philosophy in which the greatest improvements have been and may be made; it is on that account that I have made it my peculiar study; but at the same time, I have not neglected the other branches of science. A man would make but a very sorry chemist if he attended to that department of human knowledge alone. If your wish is to become really a man of science and not merely a petty experimentalist, I should advise you to apply to every branch of natural philosophy, including mathematics.\u95b3\n\nHe then took me into his laboratory and explained to me the uses of his various machines, instructing me as to what I ought to procure and promising me the use of his own when I should have advanced far enough in the science not to derange their mechanism. He also gave me the list of books which I had requested, and I took my leave.\n\nThus ended a day memorable to me; it decided my future destiny.\n\n\nFrom this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, in the\nmost comprehensive sense of the term, became nearly my sole occupation.\nI read with ardour those works, so full of genius and discrimination,\nwhich modern inquirers have written on these subjects. I attended the\nlectures, and cultivated the acquaintance, of the men of science of the\nuniversity; and I found even in M. Harriet a great deal of sound sense\nand real information, combined, it is true, with a repulsive physiognomy\nand manners, but not on that account the less valuable. In M. Lyle I\nfound a true friend. His gentleness was never tinged by dogmatism; and\nhis instructions were given with an air of frankness and good nature,\nthat banished every idea of pedantry. It was, perhaps, the amiable\ncharacter of this man that inclined me more to that branch of natural\nphilosophy which he professed, than an intrinsic love for the science\nitself. But this state of mind had place only in the first steps towards\nknowledge: the more fully I entered into the science, the more\nexclusively I pursued it for its own sake. That application, which at\nfirst had been a matter of duty and resolution, now became so ardent and\neager, that the stars often disappeared in the light of morning whilst\nI was yet engaged in my laboratory.\n\nAs I applied so closely, it may be easily conceived that I improved\nrapidly. My ardour was indeed the astonishment of the students; and my\nproficiency, that of the masters. Professor Harriet often asked me, with\na sly smile, how Cornelius Agrippa went on? whilst M. Lyle expressed\nthe most heart-felt exultation in my progress. Two years passed in this\nmanner, during which I paid no visit to Geneva, but was engaged, heart\nand soul, in the pursuit of some discoveries, which I hoped to make.\nNone but those who have experienced them can conceive of the enticements\nof science. In other studies you go as far as others have gone before\nyou, and there is nothing more to know; but in a scientific pursuit\nthere is continual food for discovery and wonder. A mind of moderate\ncapacity, which closely pursues one study, must infallibly arrive at\ngreat proficiency in that study; and I, who continually sought the\nattainment of one object of pursuit, and was solely wrapt up in this,\nimproved so rapidly, that, at the end of two years, I made some\ndiscoveries in the improvement of some chemical instruments, which\nprocured me great esteem and admiration at the university. When I had\narrived at this point, and had become as well acquainted with the theory\nand practice of natural philosophy as depended on the lessons of any of\nthe professors at Ingolstadt, my residence there being no longer\nconducive to my improvements, I thought of returning to my friends and\nmy native town, when an incident happened that protracted my stay.\n\nOne of the phenomena which had peculiarly attracted my attention was the\nstructure of the human frame, and, indeed, any animal endued with life.\nWhence, I often asked myself, did the principle of life proceed? It was\na bold question, and one which has ever been considered as a mystery;\nyet with how many things are we upon the brink of becoming acquainted,\nif cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our inquiries. I revolved\nthese circumstances in my mind, and determined thenceforth to apply\nmyself more particularly to those branches of natural philosophy which\nrelate to physiology. Unless I had been animated by an almost\nsupernatural enthusiasm, my application to this study would have been\nirksome, and almost intolerable. To examine the causes of life, we must\nfirst have recourse to death. I became acquainted with the science of\nanatomy: but this was not sufficient; I must also observe the natural\ndecay and corruption of the human body. In my education my father had\ntaken the greatest precautions that my mind should be impressed with no\nsupernatural horrors. I do not ever remember to have trembled at a tale\nof superstition, or to have feared the apparition of a spirit. Darkness\nhad no effect upon my fancy; and a church-yard was to me merely the\nreceptacle of bodies deprived of life, which, from being the seat of\nbeauty and strength, had become food for the worm. Now I was led to\nexamine the cause and progress of this decay, and forced to spend days\nand nights in vaults and charnel houses. My attention was fixed upon\nevery object the most insupportable to the delicacy of the human\nfeelings. I saw how the fine form of man was degraded and wasted; I\nbeheld the corruption of death succeed to the blooming cheek of life; I\nsaw how the worm inherited the wonders of the eye and brain. I paused,\nexamining and analysing all the minutiae of causation, as exemplified in\nthe change from life to death, and death to life, until from the midst\nof this darkness a sudden light broke in upon me--a light so brilliant\nand wondrous, yet so simple, that while I became dizzy with the\nimmensity of the prospect which it illustrated, I was surprised that\namong so many men of genius, who had directed their inquiries towards\nthe same science, that I alone should be reserved to discover so\nastonishing a secret.\n\nRemember, I am not recording the vision of a madman. The sun does not\nmore certainly shine in the heavens, than that which I now affirm is\ntrue. Some miracle might have produced it, yet the stages of the\ndiscovery were distinct and probable. After days and nights of\nincredible labour and fatigue, I succeeded in discovering the cause of\ngeneration and life; nay, more, I became myself capable of bestowing\nanimation upon lifeless matter.\n\nThe astonishment which I had at first experienced on this discovery soon\ngave place to delight and rapture. After so much time spent in painful\nlabour, to arrive at once at the summit of my desires, was the most\ngratifying consummation of my toils. But this discovery was so great\nand overwhelming, that all the steps by which I had been progressively\nled to it were obliterated, and I beheld only the result. What had been\nthe study and desire of the wisest men since the creation of the world,\nwas now within my grasp. Not that, like a magic scene, it all opened\nupon me at once: the information I had obtained was of a nature rather\nto direct my endeavours so soon as I should point them towards the\nobject of my search, than to exhibit that object already accomplished. I\nwas like the Arabian who had been buried with the dead, and found a\npassage to life aided only by one glimmering, and seemingly ineffectual\nlight.\n\nI see by your eagerness, and the wonder and hope which your eyes\nexpress, my friend, that you expect to be informed of the secret with\nwhich I am acquainted; that cannot be: listen patiently until the end of\nmy story, and you will easily perceive why I am reserved upon that\nsubject. I will not lead you on, unguarded and ardent as I then was, to\nyour destruction and infallible misery. Learn from me, if not by my\nprecepts, at least by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement of\nknowledge, and how much happier that man is who believes his native town\nto be the world, than he who aspires to become greater than his nature\nwill allow.\n\nWhen I found so astonishing a power placed within my hands, I hesitated\na long time concerning the manner in which I should employ it. Although\nI possessed the capacity of bestowing animation, yet to prepare a frame\nfor the reception of it, with all its intricacies of fibres, muscles,\nand veins, still remained a work of inconceivable difficulty and labour.\nI doubted at first whether I should attempt the creation of a being like\nmyself or one of simpler organization; but my imagination was too much\nexalted by my first success to permit me to doubt of my ability to give\nlife to an animal as complex and wonderful as man. The materials at\npresent within my command hardly appeared adequate to so arduous an\nundertaking; but I doubted not that I should ultimately succeed. I\nprepared myself for a multitude of reverses; my operations might be\nincessantly baffled, and at last my work be imperfect: yet, when I\nconsidered the improvement which every day takes place in science and\nmechanics, I was encouraged to hope my present attempts would at least\nlay the foundations of future success. Nor could I consider the\nmagnitude and complexity of my plan as any argument of its\nimpracticability. It was with these feelings that I began the creation\nof a human being. As the minuteness of the parts formed a great\nhindrance to my speed, I resolved, contrary to my first intention, to\nmake the being of a gigantic stature; that is to say, about eight feet\nin height, and proportionably large. After having formed this\ndetermination, and having spent some months in successfully collecting\nand arranging my materials, I began.\n\nNo one can conceive the variety of feelings which bore me onwards, like\na hurricane, in the first enthusiasm of success. Life and death appeared\nto me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a\ntorrent of light into our dark world. A new species would bless me as\nits creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their\nbeing to me. No father could claim the gratitude of his child so\ncompletely as I should deserve their's. Pursuing these reflections, I\nthought, that if I could bestow animation upon lifeless matter, I might\nin process of time (although I now found it impossible) renew life where\ndeath had apparently devoted the body to corruption.\n\nThese thoughts supported my spirits, while I pursued my undertaking with\nunremitting ardour. My cheek had grown pale with study, and my person\nhad become emaciated with confinement. Sometimes, on the very brink of\ncertainty, I failed; yet still I clung to the hope which the next day or\nthe next hour might realize. One secret which I alone possessed was the\nhope to which I had dedicated myself; and the moon gazed on my midnight\nlabours, while, with unrelaxed and breathless eagerness, I pursued\nnature to her hiding places. Who shall conceive the horrors of my secret\ntoil, as I dabbled among the unhallowed damps of the grave, or tortured\nthe living animal to animate the lifeless clay? My limbs now tremble,\nand my eyes swim with the remembrance; but then a resistless, and almost\nfrantic impulse, urged me forward; I seemed to have lost all soul or\nsensation but for this one pursuit. It was indeed but a passing trance,\nthat only made me feel with renewed acuteness so soon as, the unnatural\nstimulus ceasing to operate, I had returned to my old habits. I\ncollected bones from charnel houses; and disturbed, with profane\nfingers, the tremendous secrets of the human frame. In a solitary\nchamber, or rather cell, at the top of the house, and separated from all\nthe other apartments by a gallery and staircase, I kept my workshop of\nfilthy creation; my eyeballs were starting from their sockets in\nattending to the details of my employment. The dissecting room and the\nslaughter-house furnished many of my materials; and often did my human\nnature turn with loathing from my occupation, whilst, still urged on by\nan eagerness which perpetually increased, I brought my work near to a\nconclusion.\n\nThe summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in\none pursuit. It was a most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow\na more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage:\nbut my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature. And the same\nfeelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me also to\nforget those friends who were so many miles absent, and whom I had not\nseen for so long a time. I knew my silence disquieted them; and I well\nremembered the words of my father: \"I know that while you are pleased\nwith yourself, you will think of us with affection, and we shall hear\nregularly from you. You must pardon me, if I regard any interruption in\nyour correspondence as a proof that your other duties are equally\nneglected.\"\n\nI knew well therefore what would be my father's feelings; but I could\nnot tear my thoughts from my employment, loathsome in itself, but which\nhad taken an irresistible hold of my imagination. I wished, as it were,\nto procrastinate all that related to my feelings of affection until the\ngreat object, which swallowed up every habit of my nature, should be\ncompleted.\n\nI then thought that my father would be unjust if he ascribed my neglect\nto vice, or faultiness on my part; but I am now convinced that he was\njustified in conceiving that I should not be altogether free from blame.\nA human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful\nmind, and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his\ntranquillity. I do not think that the pursuit of knowledge is an\nexception to this rule. If the study to which you apply yourself has a\ntendency to weaken your affections, and to destroy your taste for those\nsimple pleasures in which no alloy can possibly mix, then that study is\ncertainly unlawful, that is to say, not befitting the human mind. If\nthis rule were always observed; if no man allowed any pursuit\nwhatsoever to interfere with the tranquillity of his domestic\naffections, Greece had not been enslaved; Caesar would have spared his\ncountry; America would have been discovered more gradually; and the\nempires of Mexico and Peru had not been destroyed.\n\nBut I forget that I am moralizing in the most interesting part of my\ntale; and your looks remind me to proceed.\n\nMy father made no reproach in his letters; and only took notice of my\nsilence by inquiring into my occupations more particularly than before.\nWinter, spring, and summer, passed away during my labours; but I did not\nwatch the blossom or the expanding leaves--sights which before always\nyielded me supreme delight, so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation.\nThe leaves of that year had withered before my work drew near to a\nclose; and now every day shewed me more plainly how well I had\nsucceeded. But my enthusiasm was checked by my anxiety, and I appeared\nrather like one doomed by slavery to toil in the mines, or any other\nunwholesome trade, than an artist occupied by his favourite employment.\nEvery night I was oppressed by a slow fever, and I became nervous to a\nmost painful degree; a disease that I regretted the more because I had\nhitherto enjoyed most excellent health, and had always boasted of the\nfirmness of my nerves. But I believed that exercise and amusement would\nsoon drive away such symptoms; and I promised myself both of these, when\nmy creation should be complete.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIt was on a dreary night of November, that I beheld the accomplishment\nof my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected\nthe instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being\ninto the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the\nmorning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was\nnearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I\nsaw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a\nconvulsive motion agitated its limbs.\n\nHow can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the\nwretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form?\nHis limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as\nbeautiful. Beautiful!--Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the\nwork of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black,\nand flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only\nformed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost\nof the same colour as the dun white sockets in which they were set, his\nshrivelled complexion, and straight black lips.\n\nThe different accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelings of\nhuman nature. I had worked hard for nearly two years, for the sole\npurpose of infusing life into an inanimate body. For this I had deprived\nmyself of rest and health. I had desired it with an ardour that far\nexceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beauty of the\ndream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart.\nUnable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I rushed out of\nthe room, and continued a long time traversing my bed-chamber, unable\nto compose my mind to sleep. At length lassitude succeeded to the\ntumult I had before endured; and I threw myself on the bed in my\nclothes, endeavouring to seek a few moments of forgetfulness. But it was\nin vain: I slept indeed, but I was disturbed by the wildest dreams. I\nthought I saw Raiden, in the bloom of health, walking in the streets\nof Ingolstadt. Delighted and surprised, I embraced her; but as I\nimprinted the first kiss on her lips, they became livid with the hue of\ndeath; her features appeared to change, and I thought that I held the\ncorpse of my dead mother in my arms; a shroud enveloped her form, and I\nsaw the grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel. I started from\nmy sleep with horror; a cold dew covered my forehead, my teeth\nchattered, and every limb became convulsed; when, by the dim and yellow\nlight of the moon, as it forced its way through the window-shutters, I\nbeheld the wretch--the miserable monster whom I had created. He held up\nthe curtain of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes they may be called, were\nfixed on me. His jaws opened, and he muttered some inarticulate sounds,\nwhile a grin wrinkled his cheeks. He might have spoken, but I did not\nhear; one hand was stretched out, seemingly to detain me, but I escaped,\nand rushed down stairs. I took refuge in the court-yard belonging to the\nhouse which I inhabited; where I remained during the rest of the night,\nwalking up and down in the greatest agitation, listening attentively,\ncatching and fearing each sound as if it were to announce the approach\nof the demoniacal corpse to which I had so miserably given life.\n\nOh! no mortal could support the horror of that countenance. A mummy\nagain endued with animation could not be so hideous as that wretch. I\nhad gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then; but when those\nmuscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing\nsuch as even Dante could not have conceived.\n\nI passed the night wretchedly. Sometimes my pulse beat so quickly and\nhardly, that I felt the palpitation of every artery; at others, I nearly\nsank to the ground through languor and extreme weakness. Mingled with\nthis horror, I felt the bitterness of disappointment: dreams that had\nbeen my food and pleasant rest for so long a space, were now become a\nhell to me; and the change was so rapid, the overthrow so complete!\n\nMorning, dismal and wet, at length dawned, and discovered to my\nsleepless and aching eyes the church of Ingolstadt, its white steeple\nand clock, which indicated the sixth hour. The porter opened the gates\nof the court, which had that night been my asylum, and I issued into the\nstreets, pacing them with quick steps, as if I sought to avoid the\nwretch whom I feared every turning of the street would present to my\nview. I did not dare return to the apartment which I inhabited, but felt\nimpelled to hurry on, although wetted by the rain, which poured from a\nblack and comfortless sky.\n\nI continued walking in this manner for some time, endeavouring, by\nbodily exercise, to ease the load that weighed upon my mind. I\ntraversed the streets, without any clear conception of where I was, or\nwhat I was doing. My heart palpitated in the sickness of fear; and I\nhurried on with irregular steps, not daring to look about me:\n\n    Like one who, on a lonely road,\n      Doth walk in fear and dread,\n    And, having once turn'd round, walks on,\n      And turns no more his head;\n    Because he knows a frightful fiend\n      Doth close behind him tread.\n\nContinuing thus, I came at length opposite to the inn at which the\nvarious diligences and carriages usually stopped. Here I paused, I knew\nnot why; but I remained some minutes with my eyes fixed on a coach that\nwas coming towards me from the other end of the street. As it drew\nnearer, I observed that it was the Swiss diligence: it stopped just\nwhere I was standing; and, on the door being opened, I perceived Brennan\nAriella, who, on seeing me, instantly sprung out. \"My dear\nJoey,\" exclaimed he, \"how glad I am to see you! how fortunate\nthat you should be here at the very moment of my alighting!\"\n\nNothing could equal my delight on seeing Ariella; his presence brought\nback to my thoughts my father, Raiden, and all those scenes of home\nso dear to my recollection. I grasped his hand, and in a moment forgot\nmy horror and misfortune; I felt suddenly, and for the first time during\nmany months, calm and serene joy. I welcomed my friend, therefore, in\nthe most cordial manner, and we walked towards my college. Ariella\ncontinued talking for some time about our mutual friends, and his own\ngood fortune in being permitted to come to Ingolstadt. \"You may easily\nbelieve,\" said he, \"how great was the difficulty to persuade my father\nthat it was not absolutely necessary for a merchant not to understand\nany thing except book-keeping; and, indeed, I believe I left him\nincredulous to the last, for his constant answer to my unwearied\nentreaties was the same as that of the Dutch schoolmaster in the Vicar\nof Wakefield: 'I have ten thousand florins a year without Greek, I eat\nheartily without Greek.' But his affection for me at length overcame his\ndislike of learning, and he has permitted me to undertake a voyage of\ndiscovery to the land of knowledge.\"\n\n\"It gives me the greatest delight to see you; but tell me how you left\nmy father, brothers, and Raiden.\"\n\n\"Very well, and very happy, only a little uneasy that they hear from you\nso seldom. By the bye, I mean to lecture you a little upon their account\nmyself.--But, my dear Joey,\" continued he, stopping short, and\ngazing full in my face, \"I did not before remark how very ill you\nappear; so thin and pale; you look as if you had been watching for\nseveral nights.\"\n\n\"You have guessed right; I have lately been so deeply engaged in one\noccupation, that I have not allowed myself sufficient rest, as you see:\nbut I hope, I sincerely hope, that all these employments are now at an\nend, and that I am at length free.\"\n\nI trembled excessively; I could not endure to think of, and far less to\nallude to the occurrences of the preceding night. I walked with a quick\npace, and we soon arrived at my college. I then reflected, and the\nthought made me shiver, that the creature whom I had left in my\napartment might still be there, alive, and walking about. I dreaded to\nbehold this monster; but I feared still more that Brennan should see him.\nEntreating him therefore to remain a few minutes at the bottom of the\nstairs, I darted up towards my own room. My hand was already on the lock\nof the door before I recollected myself. I then paused; and a cold\nshivering came over me. I threw the door forcibly open, as children are\naccustomed to do when they expect a spectre to stand in waiting for them\non the other side; but nothing appeared. I stepped fearfully in: the\napartment was empty; and my bedroom was also freed from its hideous\nguest. I could hardly believe that so great a good-fortune could have\nbefallen me; but when I became assured that my enemy had indeed fled, I\nclapped my hands for joy, and ran down to Ariella.\n\nWe ascended into my room, and the servant presently brought breakfast;\nbut I was unable to contain myself. It was not joy only that possessed\nme; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulse\nbeat rapidly. I was unable to remain for a single instant in the same\nplace; I jumped over the chairs, clapped my hands, and laughed aloud.\nAriella at first attributed my unusual spirits to joy on his arrival;\nbut when he observed me more attentively, he saw a wildness in my eyes\nfor which he could not account; and my loud, unrestrained, heartless\nlaughter, frightened and astonished him.\n\n\"My dear Kiran,\" cried he, \"what, for God's sake, is the matter? Do not\nlaugh in that manner. How ill you are! What is the cause of all this?\"\n\n\"Do not ask me,\" cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for I thought\nI saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; \"_he_ can tell.--Oh, save\nme! save me!\" I imagined that the monster seized me; I struggled\nfuriously, and fell down in a fit.\n\nPoor Ariella! what must have been his feelings? A meeting, which he\nanticipated with such joy, so strangely turned to bitterness. But I was\nnot the witness of his grief; for I was lifeless, and did not recover my\nsenses for a long, long time.\n\nThis was the commencement of a nervous fever, which confined me for\nseveral months. During all that time Brennan was my only nurse. I\nafterwards learned that, knowing my father's advanced age, and unfitness\nfor so long a journey, and how wretched my sickness would make\nRaiden, he spared them this grief by concealing the extent of my\ndisorder. He knew that I could not have a more kind and attentive nurse\nthan himself; and, firm in the hope he felt of my recovery, he did not\ndoubt that, instead of doing harm, he performed the kindest action that\nhe could towards them.\n\nBut I was in reality very ill; and surely nothing but the unbounded and\nunremitting attentions of my friend could have restored me to life. The\nform of the monster on whom I had bestowed existence was for ever before\nmy eyes, and I raved incessantly concerning him. Doubtless my words\nsurprised Brennan: he at first believed them to be the wanderings of my\ndisturbed imagination; but the pertinacity with which I continually\nrecurred to the same subject persuaded him that my disorder indeed owed\nits origin to some uncommon and terrible event.\n\nBy very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses, that alarmed and\ngrieved my friend, I recovered. I remember the first time I became\ncapable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure, I\nperceived that the fallen leaves had disappeared, and that the young\nbuds were shooting forth from the trees that shaded my window. It was a\ndivine spring; and the season contributed greatly to my convalescence. I\nfelt also sentiments of joy and affection revive in my bosom; my gloom\ndisappeared, and in a short time I became as cheerful as before I was\nattacked by the fatal passion.\n\n\"Dearest Ariella,\" exclaimed I, \"how kind, how very good you are to me.\nThis whole winter, instead of being spent in study, as you promised\nyourself, has been consumed in my sick room. How shall I ever repay\nyou? I feel the greatest remorse for the disappointment of which I have\nbeen the occasion; but you will forgive me.\"\n\n\"You will repay me entirely, if you do not discompose yourself, but get\nwell as fast as you can; and since you appear in such good spirits, I\nmay speak to you on one subject, may I not?\"\n\nI trembled. One subject! what could it be? Could he allude to an object\non whom I dared not even think?\n\n\"Compose yourself,\" said Ariella, who observed my change of colour, \"I\nwill not mention it, if it agitates you; but your father and cousin\nwould be very happy if they received a letter from you in your own\nhand-writing. They hardly know how ill you have been, and are uneasy at\nyour long silence.\"\n\n\"Is that all? my dear Brennan. How could you suppose that my first thought\nwould not fly towards those dear, dear friends whom I love, and who are\nso deserving of my love.\"\n\n\"If this is your present temper, my friend, you will perhaps be glad to\nsee a letter that has been lying here some days for you: it is from your\ncousin, I believe.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAriella then put the following letter into my hands.\n\n\"_To_ V. JOEY.\n\n\"MY DEAR COUSIN,\n\n\"I cannot describe to you the uneasiness we have all felt concerning\nyour health. We cannot help imagining that your friend Ariella conceals\nthe extent of your disorder: for it is now several months since we have\nseen your hand-writing; and all this time you have been obliged to\ndictate your letters to Brennan. Surely, Kiran, you must have been\nexceedingly ill; and this makes us all very wretched, as much so nearly\nas after the death of your dear mother. My uncle was almost persuaded\nthat you were indeed dangerously ill, and could hardly be restrained\nfrom undertaking a journey to Ingolstadt. Ariella always writes that you\nare getting better; I eagerly hope that you will confirm this\nintelligence soon in your own hand-writing; for indeed, indeed, Kiran,\nwe are all very miserable on this account. Relieve us from this fear,\nand we shall be the happiest creatures in the world. Your father's\nhealth is now so vigorous, that he appears ten years younger since last\nwinter. Ernest also is so much improved, that you would hardly know him:\nhe is now nearly sixteen, and has lost that sickly appearance which he\nhad some years ago; he is grown quite robust and active.\n\n\"My uncle and I conversed a long time last night about what profession\nErnest should follow. His constant illness when young has deprived him\nof the habits of application; and now that he enjoys good health, he is\ncontinually in the open air, climbing the hills, or rowing on the lake.\nI therefore proposed that he should be a farmer; which you know, Cousin,\nis a favourite scheme of mine. A farmer's is a very healthy happy life;\nand the least hurtful, or rather the most beneficial profession of any.\nMy uncle had an idea of his being educated as an advocate, that through\nhis interest he might become a judge. But, besides that he is not at all\nfitted for such an occupation, it is certainly more creditable to\ncultivate the earth for the sustenance of man, than to be the confidant,\nand sometimes the accomplice, of his vices; which is the profession of a\nlawyer. I said, that the employments of a prosperous farmer, if they\nwere not a more honourable, they were at least a happier species of\noccupation than that of a judge, whose misfortune it was always to\nmeddle with the dark side of human nature. My uncle smiled, and said,\nthat I ought to be an advocate myself, which put an end to the\nconversation on that subject.\n\n\"And now I must tell you a little story that will please, and perhaps\namuse you. Do you not remember Allyson Kalia? Probably you do not; I\nwill relate her history, therefore, in a few words. Madame Kalia, her\nmother, was a widow with four children, of whom Allyson was the third.\nThis girl had always been the favourite of her father; but, through a\nstrange perversity, her mother could not endure her, and, after the\ndeath of M. Kalia, treated her very ill. My aunt observed this; and,\nwhen Allyson was twelve years of age, prevailed on her mother to allow\nher to live at her house. The republican institutions of our country\nhave produced simpler and happier manners than those which prevail in\nthe great monarchies that surround it. Hence there is less distinction\nbetween the several classes of its inhabitants; and the lower orders\nbeing neither so poor nor so despised, their manners are more refined\nand moral. A servant in Geneva does not mean the same thing as a servant\nin France and England. Allyson, thus received in our family, learned the\nduties of a servant; a condition which, in our fortunate country, does\nnot include the idea of ignorance, and a sacrifice of the dignity of a\nhuman being.\n\n\"After what I have said, I dare say you well remember the heroine of my\nlittle tale: for Allyson was a great favourite of your's; and I\nrecollect you once remarked, that if you were in an ill humour, one\nglance from Allyson could dissipate it, for the same reason that Ariosto\ngives concerning the beauty of Angelica--she looked so frank-hearted and\nhappy. My aunt conceived a great attachment for her, by which she was\ninduced to give her an education superior to that which she had at\nfirst intended. This benefit was fully repaid; Allyson was the most\ngrateful little creature in the world: I do not mean that she made any\nprofessions, I never heard one pass her lips; but you could see by her\neyes that she almost adored her protectress. Although her disposition\nwas gay, and in many respects inconsiderate, yet she paid the greatest\nattention to every gesture of my aunt. She thought her the model of all\nexcellence, and endeavoured to imitate her phraseology and manners, so\nthat even now she often reminds me of her.\n\n\"When my dearest aunt died, every one was too much occupied in their own\ngrief to notice poor Allyson, who had attended her during her illness\nwith the most anxious affection. Poor Allyson was very ill; but other\ntrials were reserved for her.\n\n\"One by one, her brothers and sister died; and her mother, with the\nexception of her neglected daughter, was left childless. The conscience\nof the woman was troubled; she began to think that the deaths of her\nfavourites was a judgment from heaven to chastise her partiality. She\nwas a Roman Catholic; and I believe her confessor confirmed the idea\nwhich she had conceived. Accordingly, a few months after your departure\nfor Ingolstadt, Allyson was called home by her repentant mother. Poor\ngirl! she wept when she quitted our house: she was much altered since\nthe death of my aunt; grief had given softness and a winning mildness to\nher manners, which had before been remarkable for vivacity. Nor was her\nresidence at her mother's house of a nature to restore her gaiety. The\npoor woman was very vacillating in her repentance. She sometimes begged\nAllyson to forgive her unkindness, but much oftener accused her of\nhaving caused the deaths of her brothers and sister. Perpetual fretting\nat length threw Madame Kalia into a decline, which at first increased\nher irritability, but she is now at peace for ever. She died on the\nfirst approach of cold weather, at the beginning of this last winter.\nAllyson has returned to us; and I assure you I love her tenderly. She is\nvery clever and gentle, and extremely pretty; as I mentioned before, her\nmien and her expressions continually remind me of my dear aunt.\n\n\"I must say also a few words to you, my dear cousin, of little darling\nRosetta. I wish you could see him; he is very tall of his age, with\nsweet laughing blue eyes, dark eye-lashes, and curling hair. When he\nsmiles, two little dimples appear on each cheek, which are rosy with\nhealth. He has already had one or two little _wives_, but Louisa Biron\nis his favourite, a pretty little girl of five years of age.\n\n\"Now, dear Kiran, I dare say you wish to be indulged in a little gossip\nconcerning the good people of Geneva. The pretty Miss Mansfield has\nalready received the congratulatory visits on her approaching marriage\nwith a young Englishman, John Melbourne, Esq. Her ugly sister, Manon,\nmarried M. Duvillard, the rich banker, last autumn. Your favourite\nschoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunes since the\ndeparture of Ariella from Geneva. But he has already recovered his\nspirits, and is reported to be on the point of marrying a very lively\npretty Frenchwoman, Madame Tavernier. She is a widow, and much older\nthan Manoir; but she is very much admired, and a favourite with every\nbody.\n\n\"I have written myself into good spirits, dear cousin; yet I cannot\nconclude without again anxiously inquiring concerning your health. Dear\nKiran, if you are not very ill, write yourself, and make your father\nand all of us happy; or----I cannot bear to think of the other side of\nthe question; my tears already flow. Adieu, my dearest cousin.\"\n\n\"RAIDEN MELINDA.\n\n\"Geneva, March 18th, 17--.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Dear, dear Raiden!\" I exclaimed when I had read her letter, \"I will\nwrite instantly, and relieve them from the anxiety they must feel.\" I\nwrote, and this exertion greatly fatigued me; but my convalescence had\ncommenced, and proceeded regularly. In another fortnight I was able to\nleave my chamber.\n\nOne of my first duties on my recovery was to introduce Ariella to the\nseveral professors of the university. In doing this, I underwent a kind\nof rough usage, ill befitting the wounds that my mind had sustained.\nEver since the fatal night, the end of my labours, and the beginning of\nmy misfortunes, I had conceived a violent antipathy even to the name of\nnatural philosophy. When I was otherwise quite restored to health, the\nsight of a chemical instrument would renew all the agony of my nervous\nsymptoms. Brennan saw this, and had removed all my apparatus from my view.\nHe had also changed my apartment; for he perceived that I had acquired a\ndislike for the room which had previously been my laboratory. But these\ncares of Ariella were made of no avail when I visited the professors. M.\nLyle inflicted torture when he praised, with kindness and warmth, the\nastonishing progress I had made in the sciences. He soon perceived that\nI disliked the subject; but, not guessing the real cause, he attributed\nmy feelings to modesty, and changed the subject from my improvement to\nthe science itself, with a desire, as I evidently saw, of drawing me\nout. What could I do? He meant to please, and he tormented me. I felt as\nif he had placed carefully, one by one, in my view those instruments\nwhich were to be afterwards used in putting me to a slow and cruel\ndeath. I writhed under his words, yet dared not exhibit the pain I felt.\nAriella, whose eyes and feelings were always quick in discerning the\nsensations of others, declined the subject, alleging, in excuse, his\ntotal ignorance; and the conversation took a more general turn. I\nthanked my friend from my heart, but I did not speak. I saw plainly that\nhe was surprised, but he never attempted to draw my secret from me; and\nalthough I loved him with a mixture of affection and reverence that knew\nno bounds, yet I could never persuade myself to confide to him that\nevent which was so often present to my recollection, but which I feared\nthe detail to another would only impress more deeply.\n\nM. Harriet was not equally docile; and in my condition at that time, of\nalmost insupportable sensitiveness, his harsh blunt encomiums gave me\neven more pain than the benevolent approbation of M. Lyle. \"D--n the\nfellow!\" cried he; \"why, M. Ariella, I assure you he has outstript us\nall. Aye, stare if you please; but it is nevertheless true. A youngster\nwho, but a few years ago, believed Cornelius Agrippa as firmly as the\ngospel, has now set himself at the head of the university; and if he is\nnot soon pulled down, we shall all be out of countenance.--Aye, aye,\"\ncontinued he, observing my face expressive of suffering, \"M.\nJoey is modest; an excellent quality in a young man. Young men\nshould be diffident of themselves, you know, M. Ariella; I was myself\nwhen young: but that wears out in a very short time.\"\n\nM. Harriet had now commenced an eulogy on himself, which happily turned\nthe conversation from a subject that was so annoying to me.\n\nAriella was no natural philosopher. His imagination was too vivid for\nthe minutiae of science. Languages were his principal study; and he\nsought, by acquiring their elements, to open a field for\nself-instruction on his return to Geneva. Persian, Arabic, and Hebrew,\ngained his attention, after he had made himself perfectly master of\nGreek and Latin. For my own part, idleness had ever been irksome to me;\nand now that I wished to fly from reflection, and hated my former\nstudies, I felt great relief in being the fellow-pupil with my friend,\nand found not only instruction but consolation in the works of the\norientalists. Their melancholy is soothing, and their joy elevating to a\ndegree I never experienced in studying the authors of any other country.\nWhen you read their writings, life appears to consist in a warm sun and\ngarden of roses,--in the smiles and frowns of a fair enemy, and the fire\nthat consumes your own heart. How different from the manly and heroical\npoetry of Greece and Rome.\n\nSummer passed away in these occupations, and my return to Geneva was\nfixed for the latter end of autumn; but being delayed by several\naccidents, winter and snow arrived, the roads were deemed impassable,\nand my journey was retarded until the ensuing spring. I felt this delay\nvery bitterly; for I longed to see my native town, and my beloved\nfriends. My return had only been delayed so long from an unwillingness\nto leave Ariella in a strange place, before he had become acquainted\nwith any of its inhabitants. The winter, however, was spent cheerfully;\nand although the spring was uncommonly late, when it came, its beauty\ncompensated for its dilatoriness.\n\nThe month of May had already commenced, and I expected the letter daily\nwhich was to fix the date of my departure, when Brennan proposed a\npedestrian tour in the environs of Ingolstadt that I might bid a\npersonal farewell to the country I had so long inhabited. I acceded\nwith pleasure to this proposition: I was fond of exercise, and Ariella\nhad always been my favourite companion in the rambles of this nature\nthat I had taken among the scenes of my native country.\n\nWe passed a fortnight in these perambulations: my health and spirits had\nlong been restored, and they gained additional strength from the\nsalubrious air I breathed, the natural incidents of our progress, and\nthe conversation of my friend. Study had before secluded me from the\nintercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me unsocial; but\nAriella called forth the better feelings of my heart; he again taught me\nto love the aspect of nature, and the cheerful faces of children.\nExcellent friend! how sincerely did you love me, and endeavour to\nelevate my mind, until it was on a level with your own. A selfish\npursuit had cramped and narrowed me, until your gentleness and affection\nwarmed and opened my senses; I became the same happy creature who, a few\nyears ago, loving and beloved by all, had no sorrow or care. When happy,\ninanimate nature had the power of bestowing on me the most delightful\nsensations. A serene sky and verdant fields filled me with ecstacy. The\npresent season was indeed divine; the flowers of spring bloomed in the\nhedges, while those of summer were already in bud: I was undisturbed by\nthoughts which during the preceding year had pressed upon me,\nnotwithstanding my endeavours to throw them off, with an invincible\nburden.\n\nBrennan rejoiced in my gaiety, and sincerely sympathized in my feelings:\nhe exerted himself to amuse me, while he expressed the sensations that\nfilled his soul. The resources of his mind on this occasion were truly\nastonishing: his conversation was full of imagination; and very often,\nin imitation of the Persian and Arabic writers, he invented tales of\nwonderful fancy and passion. At other times he repeated my favourite\npoems, or drew me out into arguments, which he supported with great\ningenuity.\n\nWe returned to our college on a Sunday afternoon: the peasants were\ndancing, and every one we met appeared gay and happy. My own spirits\nwere high, and I bounded along with feelings of unbridled joy and\nhilarity.\n\n\n\n\n\nOn my return, I found the following letter from my father:--\n\n\n\"_To_ V. JOEY.\n\n\"MY DEAR KIRAN,\n\n\"You have probably waited impatiently for a letter to fix the date of\nyour return to us; and I was at first tempted to write only a few lines,\nmerely mentioning the day on which I should expect you. But that would\nbe a cruel kindness, and I dare not do it. What would be your surprise,\nmy son, when you expected a happy and gay welcome, to behold, on the\ncontrary, tears and wretchedness? And how, Kiran, can I relate our\nmisfortune? Absence cannot have rendered you callous to our joys and\ngriefs; and how shall I inflict pain on an absent child? I wish to\nprepare you for the woeful news, but I know it is impossible; even now\nyour eye skims over the page, to seek the words which are to convey to\nyou the horrible tidings.\n\n\"Rosetta is dead!--that sweet child, whose smiles delighted and warmed\nmy heart, who was so gentle, yet so gay! Kiran, he is murdered!\n\n\"I will not attempt to console you; but will simply relate the\ncircumstances of the transaction.\n\n\"Last Thursday (May 7th) I, my niece, and your two brothers, went to\nwalk in Plainpalais. The evening was warm and serene, and we prolonged\nour walk farther than usual. It was already dusk before we thought of\nreturning; and then we discovered that Rosetta and Ernest, who had gone\non before, were not to be found. We accordingly rested on a seat until\nthey should return. Presently Ernest came, and inquired if we had seen\nhis brother: he said, that they had been playing together, that Rosetta\nhad run away to hide himself, and that he vainly sought for him, and\nafterwards waited for him a long time, but that he did not return.\n\n\"This account rather alarmed us, and we continued to search for him\nuntil night fell, when Raiden conjectured that he might have returned\nto the house. He was not there. We returned again, with torches; for I\ncould not rest, when I thought that my sweet boy had lost himself, and\nwas exposed to all the damps and dews of night: Raiden also suffered\nextreme anguish. About five in the morning I discovered my lovely boy,\nwhom the night before I had seen blooming and active in health,\nstretched on the grass livid and motionless: the print of the murderer's\nfinger was on his neck.\n\n\"He was conveyed home, and the anguish that was visible in my\ncountenance betrayed the secret to Raiden. She was very earnest to\nsee the corpse. At first I attempted to prevent her; but she persisted,\nand entering the room where it lay, hastily examined the neck of the\nvictim, and clasping her hands exclaimed, 'O God! I have murdered my\ndarling infant!'\n\n\"She fainted, and was restored with extreme difficulty. When she again\nlived, it was only to weep and sigh. She told me, that that same evening\nRosetta had teazed her to let him wear a very valuable miniature that\nshe possessed of your mother. This picture is gone, and was doubtless\nthe temptation which urged the murderer to the deed. We have no trace of\nhim at present, although our exertions to discover him are unremitted;\nbut they will not restore my beloved Rosetta.\n\n\"Come, dearest Kiran; you alone can console Raiden. She weeps\ncontinually, and accuses herself unjustly as the cause of his death; her\nwords pierce my heart. We are all unhappy; but will not that be an\nadditional motive for you, my son, to return and be our comforter? Your\ndear mother! Alas, Kiran! I now say, Thank God she did not live to\nwitness the cruel, miserable death of her youngest darling!\n\n\"Come, Kiran; not brooding thoughts of vengeance against the assassin,\nbut with feelings of peace and gentleness, that will heal, instead of\nfestering the wounds of our minds. Enter the house of mourning, my\nfriend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you, and not\nwith hatred for your enemies.\n\n\"Your affectionate and afflicted father,\n\n\"GUY JOEY.\n\n\"Geneva, May 12th, 17--.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAriella, who had watched my countenance as I read this letter, was\nsurprised to observe the despair that succeeded to the joy I at first\nexpressed on receiving news from my friends. I threw the letter on the\ntable, and covered my face with my hands.\n\n\"My dear Joey,\" exclaimed Brennan, when he perceived me weep with\nbitterness, \"are you always to be unhappy? My dear friend, what has\nhappened?\"\n\nI motioned to him to take up the letter, while I walked up and down the\nroom in the extremest agitation. Tears also gushed from the eyes of\nAriella, as he read the account of my misfortune.\n\n\"I can offer you no consolation, my friend,\" said he; \"your disaster is\nirreparable. What do you intend to do?\"\n\n\"To go instantly to Geneva: come with me, Brennan, to order the horses.\"\n\nDuring our walk, Ariella endeavoured to raise my spirits. He did not do\nthis by common topics of consolation, but by exhibiting the truest\nsympathy. \"Poor Rosetta!\" said he, \"that dear child; he now sleeps with\nhis angel mother. His friends mourn and weep, but he is at rest: he does\nnot now feel the murderer's grasp; a sod covers his gentle form, and he\nknows no pain. He can no longer be a fit subject for pity; the survivors\nare the greatest sufferers, and for them time is the only consolation.\nThose maxims of the Stoics, that death was no evil, and that the mind of\nman ought to be superior to despair on the eternal absence of a beloved\nobject, ought not to be urged. Even Cato wept over the dead body of his\nbrother.\"\n\nAriella spoke thus as we hurried through the streets; the words\nimpressed themselves on my mind, and I remembered them afterwards in\nsolitude. But now, as soon as the horses arrived, I hurried into a\ncabriole, and bade farewell to my friend.\n\nMy journey was very melancholy. At first I wished to hurry on, for I\nlonged to console and sympathize with my loved and sorrowing friends;\nbut when I drew near my native town, I slackened my progress. I could\nhardly sustain the multitude of feelings that crowded into my mind. I\npassed through scenes familiar to my youth, but which I had not seen for\nnearly six years. How altered every thing might be during that time? One\nsudden and desolating change had taken place; but a thousand little\ncircumstances might have by degrees worked other alterations which,\nalthough they were done more tranquilly, might not be the less decisive.\nFear overcame me; I dared not advance, dreading a thousand nameless\nevils that made me tremble, although I was unable to define them.\n\nI remained two days at Lausanne, in this painful state of mind. I\ncontemplated the lake: the waters were placid; all around was calm, and\nthe snowy mountains, \"the palaces of nature,\" were not changed. By\ndegrees the calm and heavenly scene restored me, and I continued my\njourney towards Geneva.\n\nThe road ran by the side of the lake, which became narrower as I\napproached my native town. I discovered more distinctly the black sides\nof Jura, and the bright summit of Mont Blanc; I wept like a child: \"Dear\nmountains! my own beautiful lake! how do you welcome your wanderer? Your\nsummits are clear; the sky and lake are blue and placid. Is this to\nprognosticate peace, or to mock at my unhappiness?\"\n\nI fear, my friend, that I shall render myself tedious by dwelling on\nthese preliminary circumstances; but they were days of comparative\nhappiness, and I think of them with pleasure. My country, my beloved\ncountry! who but a native can tell the delight I took in again beholding\nthy streams, thy mountains, and, more than all, thy lovely lake.\n\nYet, as I drew nearer home, grief and fear again overcame me. Night also\nclosed around; and when I could hardly see the dark mountains, I felt\nstill more gloomily. The picture appeared a vast and dim scene of evil,\nand I foresaw obscurely that I was destined to become the most wretched\nof human beings. Alas! I prophesied truly, and failed only in one single\ncircumstance, that in all the misery I imagined and dreaded, I did not\nconceive the hundredth part of the anguish I was destined to endure.\n\nIt was completely dark when I arrived in the environs of Geneva; the\ngates of the town were already shut; and I was obliged to pass the night\nat Secheron, a village half a league to the east of the city. The sky\nwas serene; and, as I was unable to rest, I resolved to visit the spot\nwhere my poor Rosetta had been murdered. As I could not pass through the\ntown, I was obliged to cross the lake in a boat to arrive at\nPlainpalais. During this short voyage I saw the lightnings playing on\nthe summit of Mont Blanc in the most beautiful figures. The storm\nappeared to approach rapidly; and, on landing, I ascended a low hill,\nthat I might observe its progress. It advanced; the heavens were\nclouded, and I soon felt the rain coming slowly in large drops, but its\nviolence quickly increased.\n\nI quitted my seat, and walked on, although the darkness and storm\nincreased every minute, and the thunder burst with a terrific crash\nover my head. It was echoed from Saleve, the Juras, and the Alps of\nSavoy; vivid flashes of lightning dazzled my eyes, illuminating the\nlake, making it appear like a vast sheet of fire; then for an instant\nevery thing seemed of a pitchy darkness, until the eye recovered itself\nfrom the preceding flash. The storm, as is often the case in\nSwitzerland, appeared at once in various parts of the heavens. The most\nviolent storm hung exactly north of the town, over that part of the lake\nwhich lies between the promontory of Belrive and the village of Copet.\nAnother storm enlightened Jura with faint flashes; and another darkened\nand sometimes disclosed the Mole, a peaked mountain to the east of the\nlake.\n\nWhile I watched the storm, so beautiful yet terrific, I wandered on with\na hasty step. This noble war in the sky elevated my spirits; I clasped\nmy hands, and exclaimed aloud, \"Rosetta, dear angel! this is thy\nfuneral, this thy dirge!\" As I said these words, I perceived in the\ngloom a figure which stole from behind a clump of trees near me; I stood\nfixed, gazing intently: I could not be mistaken. A flash of lightning\nilluminated the object, and discovered its shape plainly to me; its\ngigantic stature, and the deformity of its aspect, more hideous than\nbelongs to humanity, instantly informed me that it was the wretch, the\nfilthy daemon to whom I had given life. What did he there? Could he be (I\nshuddered at the conception) the murderer of my brother? No sooner did\nthat idea cross my imagination, than I became convinced of its truth; my\nteeth chattered, and I was forced to lean against a tree for support.\nThe figure passed me quickly, and I lost it in the gloom. Nothing in\nhuman shape could have destroyed that fair child. _He_ was the murderer!\nI could not doubt it. The mere presence of the idea was an irresistible\nproof of the fact. I thought of pursuing the devil; but it would have\nbeen in vain, for another flash discovered him to me hanging among the\nrocks of the nearly perpendicular ascent of Mont Saleve, a hill that\nbounds Plainpalais on the south. He soon reached the summit, and\ndisappeared.\n\nI remained motionless. The thunder ceased; but the rain still continued,\nand the scene was enveloped in an impenetrable darkness. I revolved in\nmy mind the events which I had until now sought to forget: the whole\ntrain of my progress towards the creation; the appearance of the work of\nmy own hands alive at my bed side; its departure. Two years had now\nnearly elapsed since the night on which he first received life; and was\nthis his first crime? Alas! I had turned loose into the world a depraved\nwretch, whose delight was in carnage and misery; had he not murdered my\nbrother?\n\nNo one can conceive the anguish I suffered during the remainder of the\nnight, which I spent, cold and wet, in the open air. But I did not feel\nthe inconvenience of the weather; my imagination was busy in scenes of\nevil and despair. I considered the being whom I had cast among mankind,\nand endowed with the will and power to effect purposes of horror, such\nas the deed which he had now done, nearly in the light of my own\nvampire, my own spirit let loose from the grave, and forced to destroy\nall that was dear to me.\n\nDay dawned; and I directed my steps towards the town. The gates were\nopen; and I hastened to my father's house. My first thought was to\ndiscover what I knew of the murderer, and cause instant pursuit to be\nmade. But I paused when I reflected on the story that I had to tell. A\nbeing whom I myself had formed, and endued with life, had met me at\nmidnight among the precipices of an inaccessible mountain. I remembered\nalso the nervous fever with which I had been seized just at the time\nthat I dated my creation, and which would give an air of delirium to a\ntale otherwise so utterly improbable. I well knew that if any other had\ncommunicated such a relation to me, I should have looked upon it as the\nravings of insanity. Besides, the strange nature of the animal would\nelude all pursuit, even if I were so far credited as to persuade my\nrelatives to commence it. Besides, of what use would be pursuit? Who\ncould arrest a creature capable of scaling the overhanging sides of Mont\nSaleve? These reflections determined me, and I resolved to remain\nsilent.\n\nIt was about five in the morning when I entered my father's house. I\ntold the servants not to disturb the family, and went into the library\nto attend their usual hour of rising.\n\nSix years had elapsed, passed as a dream but for one indelible trace,\nand I stood in the same place where I had last embraced my father before\nmy departure for Ingolstadt. Beloved and respectable parent! He still\nremained to me. I gazed on the picture of my mother, which stood over\nthe mantle-piece. It was an historical subject, painted at my father's\ndesire, and represented Caroline Blaine in an agony of despair,\nkneeling by the coffin of her dead father. Her garb was rustic, and her\ncheek pale; but there was an air of dignity and beauty, that hardly\npermitted the sentiment of pity. Below this picture was a miniature of\nRosetta; and my tears flowed when I looked upon it. While I was thus\nengaged, Ernest entered: he had heard me arrive, and hastened to welcome\nme. He expressed a sorrowful delight to see me: \"Welcome, my dearest\nKiran,\" said he. \"Ah! I wish you had come three months ago, and then\nyou would have found us all joyous and delighted. But we are now\nunhappy; and, I am afraid, tears instead of smiles will be your welcome.\nOur father looks so sorrowful: this dreadful event seems to have revived\nin his mind his grief on the death of Mamma. Poor Raiden also is\nquite inconsolable.\" Ernest began to weep as he said these words.\n\n\"Do not,\" said I, \"welcome me thus; try to be more calm, that I may not\nbe absolutely miserable the moment I enter my father's house after so\nlong an absence. But, tell me, how does my father support his\nmisfortunes? and how is my poor Raiden?\"\n\n\"She indeed requires consolation; she accused herself of having caused\nthe death of my brother, and that made her very wretched. But since the\nmurderer has been discovered----\"\n\n\"The murderer discovered! Good God! how can that be? who could attempt\nto pursue him? It is impossible; one might as well try to overtake the\nwinds, or confine a mountain-stream with a straw.\"\n\n\"I do not know what you mean; but we were all very unhappy when she was\ndiscovered. No one would believe it at first; and even now Raiden\nwill not be convinced, notwithstanding all the evidence. Indeed, who\nwould credit that Allyson Kalia, who was so amiable, and fond of all\nthe family, could all at once become so extremely wicked?\"\n\n\"Allyson Kalia! Poor, poor girl, is she the accused? But it is\nwrongfully; every one knows that; no one believes it, surely, Ernest?\"\n\n\"No one did at first; but several circumstances came out, that have\nalmost forced conviction upon us: and her own behaviour has been so\nconfused, as to add to the evidence of facts a weight that, I fear,\nleaves no hope for doubt. But she will be tried to-day, and you will\nthen hear all.\"\n\nHe related that, the morning on which the murder of poor Rosetta had\nbeen discovered, Allyson had been taken ill, and confined to her bed;\nand, after several days, one of the servants, happening to examine the\napparel she had worn on the night of the murder, had discovered in her\npocket the picture of my mother, which had been judged to be the\ntemptation of the murderer. The servant instantly shewed it to one of\nthe others, who, without saying a word to any of the family, went to a\nmagistrate; and, upon their deposition, Allyson was apprehended. On\nbeing charged with the fact, the poor girl confirmed the suspicion in a\ngreat measure by her extreme confusion of manner.\n\nThis was a strange tale, but it did not shake my faith; and I replied\nearnestly, \"You are all mistaken; I know the murderer. Allyson, poor,\ngood Allyson, is innocent.\"\n\nAt that instant my father entered. I saw unhappiness deeply impressed on\nhis countenance, but he endeavoured to welcome me cheerfully; and, after\nwe had exchanged our mournful greeting, would have introduced some other\ntopic than that of our disaster, had not Ernest exclaimed, \"Good God,\nPapa! Kiran says that he knows who was the murderer of poor Rosetta.\"\n\n\"We do also, unfortunately,\" replied my father; \"for indeed I had rather\nhave been for ever ignorant than have discovered so much depravity and\ningratitude in one I valued so highly.\"\n\n\"My dear father, you are mistaken; Allyson is innocent.\"\n\n\"If she is, God forbid that she should suffer as guilty. She is to be\ntried to-day, and I hope, I sincerely hope, that she will be acquitted.\"\n\nThis speech calmed me. I was firmly convinced in my own mind that\nAllyson, and indeed every human being, was guiltless of this murder. I\nhad no fear, therefore, that any circumstantial evidence could be\nbrought forward strong enough to convict her; and, in this assurance, I\ncalmed myself, expecting the trial with eagerness, but without\nprognosticating an evil result.\n\nWe were soon joined by Raiden. Time had made great alterations in her\nform since I had last beheld her. Six years before she had been a\npretty, good-humoured girl, whom every one loved and caressed. She was\nnow a woman in stature and expression of countenance, which was\nuncommonly lovely. An open and capacious forehead gave indications of a\ngood understanding, joined to great frankness of disposition. Her eyes\nwere hazel, and expressive of mildness, now through recent affliction\nallied to sadness. Her hair was of a rich, dark auburn, her complexion\nfair, and her figure slight and graceful. She welcomed me with the\ngreatest affection. \"Your arrival, my dear cousin,\" said she, \"fills me\nwith hope. You perhaps will find some means to justify my poor guiltless\nAllyson. Alas! who is safe, if she be convicted of crime? I rely on her\ninnocence as certainly as I do upon my own. Our misfortune is doubly\nhard to us; we have not only lost that lovely darling boy, but this poor\ngirl, whom I sincerely love, is to be torn away by even a worse fate. If\nshe is condemned, I never shall know joy more. But she will not, I am\nsure she will not; and then I shall be happy again, even after the sad\ndeath of my little Rosetta.\"\n\n\"She is innocent, my Raiden,\" said I, \"and that shall be proved;\nfear nothing, but let your spirits be cheered by the assurance of her\nacquittal.\"\n\n\"How kind you are! every one else believes in her guilt, and that made\nme wretched; for I knew that it was impossible: and to see every one\nelse prejudiced in so deadly a manner, rendered me hopeless and\ndespairing.\" She wept.\n\n\"Sweet niece,\" said my father, \"dry your tears. If she is, as you\nbelieve, innocent, rely on the justice of our judges, and the activity\nwith which I shall prevent the slightest shadow of partiality.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nWe passed a few sad hours, until eleven o'clock, when the trial was to\ncommence. My father and the rest of the family being obliged to attend\nas witnesses, I accompanied them to the court. During the whole of this\nwretched mockery of justice, I suffered living torture. It was to be\ndecided, whether the result of my curiosity and lawless devices would\ncause the death of two of my fellow-beings: one a smiling babe, full of\ninnocence and joy; the other far more dreadfully murdered, with every\naggravation of infamy that could make the murder memorable in horror.\nAllyson also was a girl of merit, and possessed qualities which promised\nto render her life happy: now all was to be obliterated in an\nignominious grave; and I the cause! A thousand times rather would I have\nconfessed myself guilty of the crime ascribed to Allyson; but I was\nabsent when it was committed, and such a declaration would have been\nconsidered as the ravings of a madman, and would not have exculpated her\nwho suffered through me.\n\nThe appearance of Allyson was calm. She was dressed in mourning; and her\ncountenance, always engaging, was rendered, by the solemnity of her\nfeelings, exquisitely beautiful. Yet she appeared confident in\ninnocence, and did not tremble, although gazed on and execrated by\nthousands; for all the kindness which her beauty might otherwise have\nexcited, was obliterated in the minds of the spectators by the\nimagination of the enormity she was supposed to have committed. She was\ntranquil, yet her tranquillity was evidently constrained; and as her\nconfusion had before been adduced as a proof of her guilt, she worked up\nher mind to an appearance of courage. When she entered the court, she\nthrew her eyes round it, and quickly discovered where we were seated. A\ntear seemed to dim her eye when she saw us; but she quickly recovered\nherself, and a look of sorrowful affection seemed to attest her utter\nguiltlessness.\n\nThe trial began; and after the advocate against her had stated the\ncharge, several witnesses were called. Several strange facts combined\nagainst her, which might have staggered any one who had not such proof\nof her innocence as I had. She had been out the whole of the night on\nwhich the murder had been committed, and towards morning had been\nperceived by a market-woman not far from the spot where the body of the\nmurdered child had been afterwards found. The woman asked her what she\ndid there; but she looked very strangely, and only returned a confused\nand unintelligible answer. She returned to the house about eight\no'clock; and when one inquired where she had passed the night, she\nreplied, that she had been looking for the child, and demanded\nearnestly, if any thing had been heard concerning him. When shewn the\nbody, she fell into violent hysterics, and kept her bed for several\ndays. The picture was then produced, which the servant had found in her\npocket; and when Raiden, in a faltering voice, proved that it was the\nsame which, an hour before the child had been missed, she had placed\nround his neck, a murmur of horror and indignation filled the court.\n\nAllyson was called on for her defence. As the trial had proceeded, her\ncountenance had altered. Surprise, horror, and misery, were strongly\nexpressed. Sometimes she struggled with her tears; but when she was\ndesired to plead, she collected her powers, and spoke in an audible\nalthough variable voice:--\n\n\"God knows,\" she said, \"how entirely I am innocent. But I do not pretend\nthat my protestations should acquit me: I rest my innocence on a plain\nand simple explanation of the facts which have been adduced against me;\nand I hope the character I have always borne will incline my judges to a\nfavourable interpretation, where any circumstance appears doubtful or\nsuspicious.\"\n\nShe then related that, by the permission of Raiden, she had passed\nthe evening of the night on which the murder had been committed, at the\nhouse of an aunt at Chene, a village situated at about a league from\nGeneva. On her return, at about nine o'clock, she met a man, who asked\nher if she had seen any thing of the child who was lost. She was alarmed\nby this account, and passed several hours in looking for him, when the\ngates of Geneva were shut, and she was forced to remain several hours of\nthe night in a barn belonging to a cottage, being unwilling to call up\nthe inhabitants, to whom she was well known. Unable to rest or sleep,\nshe quitted her asylum early, that she might again endeavour to find my\nbrother. If she had gone near the spot where his body lay, it was\nwithout her knowledge. That she had been bewildered when questioned by\nthe market-woman, was not surprising, since she had passed a sleepless\nnight, and the fate of poor Rosetta was yet uncertain. Concerning the\npicture she could give no account.\n\n\"I know,\" continued the unhappy victim, \"how heavily and fatally this\none circumstance weighs against me, but I have no power of explaining\nit; and when I have expressed my utter ignorance, I am only left to\nconjecture concerning the probabilities by which it might have been\nplaced in my pocket. But here also I am checked. I believe that I have\nno enemy on earth, and none surely would have been so wicked as to\ndestroy me wantonly. Did the murderer place it there? I know of no\nopportunity afforded him for so doing; or if I had, why should he have\nstolen the jewel, to part with it again so soon?\n\n\"I commit my cause to the justice of my judges, yet I see no room for\nhope. I beg permission to have a few witnesses examined concerning my\ncharacter; and if their testimony shall not overweigh my supposed guilt,\nI must be condemned, although I would pledge my salvation on my\ninnocence.\"\n\nSeveral witnesses were called, who had known her for many years, and\nthey spoke well of her; but fear, and hatred of the crime of which they\nsupposed her guilty, rendered them timorous, and unwilling to come\nforward. Raiden saw even this last resource, her excellent\ndispositions and irreproachable conduct, about to fail the accused,\nwhen, although violently agitated, she desired permission to address the\ncourt.\n\n\"I am,\" said she, \"the cousin of the unhappy child who was murdered, or\nrather his sister, for I was educated by and have lived with his parents\never since and even long before his birth. It may therefore be judged\nindecent in me to come forward on this occasion; but when I see a\nfellow-creature about to perish through the cowardice of her pretended\nfriends, I wish to be allowed to speak, that I may say what I know of\nher character. I am well acquainted with the accused. I have lived in\nthe same house with her, at one time for five, and at another for nearly\ntwo years. During all that period she appeared to me the most amiable\nand benevolent of human creatures. She nursed Madame Joey, my\naunt, in her last illness with the greatest affection and care; and\nafterwards attended her own mother during a tedious illness, in a manner\nthat excited the admiration of all who knew her. After which she again\nlived in my uncle's house, where she was beloved by all the family. She\nwas warmly attached to the child who is now dead, and acted towards him\nlike a most affectionate mother. For my own part, I do not hesitate to\nsay, that, notwithstanding all the evidence produced against her, I\nbelieve and rely on her perfect innocence. She had no temptation for\nsuch an action: as to the bauble on which the chief proof rests, if she\nhad earnestly desired it, I should have willingly given it to her; so\nmuch do I esteem and value her.\"\n\nExcellent Raiden! A murmur of approbation was heard; but it was\nexcited by her generous interference, and not in favour of poor Allyson,\non whom the public indignation was turned with renewed violence,\ncharging her with the blackest ingratitude. She herself wept as\nRaiden spoke, but she did not answer. My own agitation and anguish\nwas extreme during the whole trial. I believed in her innocence; I knew\nit. Could the daemon, who had (I did not for a minute doubt) murdered my\nbrother, also in his hellish sport have betrayed the innocent to death\nand ignominy. I could not sustain the horror of my situation; and when I\nperceived that the popular voice, and the countenances of the judges,\nhad already condemned my unhappy victim, I rushed out of the court in\nagony. The tortures of the accused did not equal mine; she was sustained\nby innocence, but the fangs of remorse tore my bosom, and would not\nforego their hold.\n\nI passed a night of unmingled wretchedness. In the morning I went to the\ncourt; my lips and throat were parched. I dared not ask the fatal\nquestion; but I was known, and the officer guessed the cause of my\nvisit. The ballots had been thrown; they were all black, and Allyson was\ncondemned.\n\nI cannot pretend to describe what I then felt. I had before experienced\nsensations of horror; and I have endeavoured to bestow upon them\nadequate expressions, but words cannot convey an idea of the\nheart-sickening despair that I then endured. The person to whom I\naddressed myself added, that Allyson had already confessed her guilt.\n\"That evidence,\" he observed, \"was hardly required in so glaring a case,\nbut I am glad of it; and, indeed, none of our judges like to condemn a\ncriminal upon circumstantial evidence, be it ever so decisive.\"\n\nWhen I returned home, Raiden eagerly demanded the result.\n\n\"My cousin,\" replied I, \"it is decided as you may have expected; all\njudges had rather that ten innocent should suffer, than that one guilty\nshould escape. But she has confessed.\"\n\nThis was a dire blow to poor Raiden, who had relied with firmness\nupon Allyson's innocence. \"Alas!\" said she, \"how shall I ever again\nbelieve in human benevolence? Allyson, whom I loved and esteemed as my\nsister, how could she put on those smiles of innocence only to betray;\nher mild eyes seemed incapable of any severity or ill-humour, and yet\nshe has committed a murder.\"\n\nSoon after we heard that the poor victim had expressed a wish to see my\ncousin. My father wished her not to go; but said, that he left it to her\nown judgment and feelings to decide. \"Yes,\" said Raiden, \"I will go,\nalthough she is guilty; and you, Kiran, shall accompany me: I cannot go\nalone.\" The idea of this visit was torture to me, yet I could not\nrefuse.\n\nWe entered the gloomy prison-chamber, and beheld Allyson sitting on some\nstraw at the further end; her hands were manacled, and her head rested\non her knees. She rose on seeing us enter; and when we were left alone\nwith her, she threw herself at the feet of Raiden, weeping bitterly.\nMy cousin wept also.\n\n\"Oh, Allyson!\" said she, \"why did you rob me of my last consolation. I\nrelied on your innocence; and although I was then very wretched, I was\nnot so miserable as I am now.\"\n\n\"And do you also believe that I am so very, very wicked? Do you also\njoin with my enemies to crush me?\" Her voice was suffocated with sobs.\n\n\"Rise, my poor girl,\" said Raiden, \"why do you kneel, if you are\ninnocent? I am not one of your enemies; I believed you guiltless,\nnotwithstanding every evidence, until I heard that you had yourself\ndeclared your guilt. That report, you say, is false; and be assured,\ndear Allyson, that nothing can shake my confidence in you for a moment,\nbut your own confession.\"\n\n\"I did confess; but I confessed a lie. I confessed, that I might obtain\nabsolution; but now that falsehood lies heavier at my heart than all my\nother sins. The God of heaven forgive me! Ever since I was condemned, my\nconfessor has besieged me; he threatened and menaced, until I almost\nbegan to think that I was the monster that he said I was. He threatened\nexcommunication and hell fire in my last moments, if I continued\nobdurate. Dear lady, I had none to support me; all looked on me as a\nwretch doomed to ignominy and perdition. What could I do? In an evil\nhour I subscribed to a lie; and now only am I truly miserable.\"\n\nShe paused, weeping, and then continued--\"I thought with horror, my\nsweet lady, that you should believe your Allyson, whom your blessed aunt\nhad so highly honoured, and whom you loved, was a creature capable of a\ncrime which none but the devil himself could have perpetrated. Dear\nRosetta! dearest blessed child! I soon shall see you again in heaven,\nwhere we shall all be happy; and that consoles me, going as I am to\nsuffer ignominy and death.\"\n\n\"Oh, Allyson! forgive me for having for one moment distrusted you. Why\ndid you confess? But do not mourn, my dear girl; I will every where\nproclaim your innocence, and force belief. Yet you must die; you, my\nplayfellow, my companion, my more than sister. I never can survive so\nhorrible a misfortune.\"\n\n\"Dear, sweet Raiden, do not weep. You ought to raise me with thoughts\nof a better life, and elevate me from the petty cares of this world of\ninjustice and strife. Do not you, excellent friend, drive me to\ndespair.\"\n\n\"I will try to comfort you; but this, I fear, is an evil too deep and\npoignant to admit of consolation, for there is no hope. Yet heaven\nbless thee, my dearest Allyson, with resignation, and a confidence\nelevated beyond this world. Oh! how I hate its shews and mockeries! when\none creature is murdered, another is immediately deprived of life in a\nslow torturing manner; then the executioners, their hands yet reeking\nwith the blood of innocence, believe that they have done a great deed.\nThey call this _retribution_. Hateful name! When that word is\npronounced, I know greater and more horrid punishments are going to be\ninflicted than the gloomiest tyrant has ever invented to satiate his\nutmost revenge. Yet this is not consolation for you, my Allyson, unless\nindeed that you may glory in escaping from so miserable a den. Alas! I\nwould I were in peace with my aunt and my lovely Rosetta, escaped from a\nworld which is hateful to me, and the visages of men which I abhor.\"\n\nAllyson smiled languidly. \"This, dear lady, is despair, and not\nresignation. I must not learn the lesson that you would teach me. Talk\nof something else, something that will bring peace, and not increase of\nmisery.\"\n\nDuring this conversation I had retired to a corner of the prison-room,\nwhere I could conceal the horrid anguish that possessed me. Despair! Who\ndared talk of that? The poor victim, who on the morrow was to pass the\ndreary boundary between life and death, felt not as I did, such deep and\nbitter agony. I gnashed my teeth, and ground them together, uttering a\ngroan that came from my inmost soul. Allyson started. When she saw who\nit was, she approached me, and said, \"Dear Sir, you are very kind to\nvisit me; you, I hope, do not believe that I am guilty.\"\n\nI could not answer. \"No, Allyson,\" said Raiden; \"he is more convinced\nof your innocence than I was; for even when he heard that you had\nconfessed, he did not credit it.\"\n\n\"I truly thank him. In these last moments I feel the sincerest gratitude\ntowards those who think of me with kindness. How sweet is the affection\nof others to such a wretch as I am! It removes more than half my\nmisfortune; and I feel as if I could die in peace, now that my innocence\nis acknowledged by you, dear lady, and your cousin.\"\n\nThus the poor sufferer tried to comfort others and herself. She indeed\ngained the resignation she desired. But I, the true murderer, felt the\nnever-dying worm alive in my bosom, which allowed of no hope or\nconsolation. Raiden also wept, and was unhappy; but her's also was\nthe misery of innocence, which, like a cloud that passes over the fair\nmoon, for a while hides, but cannot tarnish its brightness. Anguish and\ndespair had penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell within\nme, which nothing could extinguish. We staid several hours with Allyson;\nand it was with great difficulty that Raiden could tear herself away.\n\"I wish,\" cried she, \"that I were to die with you; I cannot live in this\nworld of misery.\"\n\nAllyson assumed an air of cheerfulness, while she with difficulty\nrepressed her bitter tears. She embraced Raiden, and said, in a voice\nof half-suppressed emotion, \"Farewell, sweet lady, dearest Raiden, my\nbeloved and only friend; may heaven in its bounty bless and preserve\nyou; may this be the last misfortune that you will ever suffer. Live,\nand be happy, and make others so.\"\n\nAs we returned, Raiden said, \"You know not, my dear Kiran, how much\nI am relieved, now that I trust in the innocence of this unfortunate\ngirl. I never could again have known peace, if I had been deceived in my\nreliance on her. For the moment that I did believe her guilty, I felt an\nanguish that I could not have long sustained. Now my heart is lightened.\nThe innocent suffers; but she whom I thought amiable and good has not\nbetrayed the trust I reposed in her, and I am consoled.\"\n\nAmiable cousin! such were your thoughts, mild and gentle as your own\ndear eyes and voice. But I--I was a wretch, and none ever conceived of\nthe misery that I then endured.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNothing is more painful to the human mind, than, after the feelings have\nbeen worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of\ninaction and certainty which follows, and deprives the soul both of hope\nand fear. Allyson died; she rested; and I was alive. The blood flowed\nfreely in my veins, but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my\nheart, which nothing could remove. Sleep fled from my eyes; I wandered\nlike an evil spirit, for I had committed deeds of mischief beyond\ndescription horrible, and more, much more, (I persuaded myself) was yet\nbehind. Yet my heart overflowed with kindness, and the love of virtue. I\nhad begun life with benevolent intentions, and thirsted for the moment\nwhen I should put them in practice, and make myself useful to my\nfellow-beings. Now all was blasted: instead of that serenity of\nconscience, which allowed me to look back upon the past with\nself-satisfaction, and from thence to gather promise of new hopes, I\nwas seized by remorse and the sense of guilt, which hurried me away to\na hell of intense tortures, such as no language can describe.\n\nThis state of mind preyed upon my health, which had entirely recovered\nfrom the first shock it had sustained. I shunned the face of man; all\nsound of joy or complacency was torture to me; solitude was my only\nconsolation--deep, dark, death-like solitude.\n\nMy father observed with pain the alteration perceptible in my\ndisposition and habits, and endeavoured to reason with me on the folly\nof giving way to immoderate grief. \"Do you think, Kiran,\" said he,\n\"that I do not suffer also? No one could love a child more than I loved\nyour brother;\" (tears came into his eyes as he spoke); \"but is it not a\nduty to the survivors, that we should refrain from augmenting their\nunhappiness by an appearance of immoderate grief? It is also a duty owed\nto yourself; for excessive sorrow prevents improvement or enjoyment, or\neven the discharge of daily usefulness, without which no man is fit for\nsociety.\"\n\nThis advice, although good, was totally inapplicable to my case; I\nshould have been the first to hide my grief, and console my friends, if\nremorse had not mingled its bitterness with my other sensations. Now I\ncould only answer my father with a look of despair, and endeavour to\nhide myself from his view.\n\nAbout this time we retired to our house at Belrive. This change was\nparticularly agreeable to me. The shutting of the gates regularly at ten\no'clock, and the impossibility of remaining on the lake after that\nhour, had rendered our residence within the walls of Geneva very irksome\nto me. I was now free. Often, after the rest of the family had retired\nfor the night, I took the boat, and passed many hours upon the water.\nSometimes, with my sails set, I was carried by the wind; and sometimes,\nafter rowing into the middle of the lake, I left the boat to pursue its\nown course, and gave way to my own miserable reflections. I was often\ntempted, when all was at peace around me, and I the only unquiet thing\nthat wandered restless in a scene so beautiful and heavenly, if I except\nsome bat, or the frogs, whose harsh and interrupted croaking was heard\nonly when I approached the shore--often, I say, I was tempted to plunge\ninto the silent lake, that the waters might close over me and my\ncalamities for ever. But I was restrained, when I thought of the heroic\nand suffering Raiden, whom I tenderly loved, and whose existence was\nbound up in mine. I thought also of my father, and surviving brother:\nshould I by my base desertion leave them exposed and unprotected to the\nmalice of the fiend whom I had let loose among them?\n\nAt these moments I wept bitterly, and wished that peace would revisit my\nmind only that I might afford them consolation and happiness. But that\ncould not be. Remorse extinguished every hope. I had been the author of\nunalterable evils; and I lived in daily fear, lest the monster whom I\nhad created should perpetrate some new wickedness. I had an obscure\nfeeling that all was not over, and that he would still commit some\nsignal crime, which by its enormity should almost efface the\nrecollection of the past. There was always scope for fear, so long as\nany thing I loved remained behind. My abhorrence of this fiend cannot be\nconceived. When I thought of him, I gnashed my teeth, my eyes became\ninflamed, and I ardently wished to extinguish that life which I had so\nthoughtlessly bestowed. When I reflected on his crimes and malice, my\nhatred and revenge burst all bounds of moderation. I would have made a\npilgrimage to the highest peak of the Andes, could I, when there, have\nprecipitated him to their base. I wished to see him again, that I might\nwreak the utmost extent of anger on his head, and avenge the deaths of\nRosetta and Allyson.\n\nOur house was the house of mourning. My father's health was deeply\nshaken by the horror of the recent events. Raiden was sad and\ndesponding; she no longer took delight in her ordinary occupations; all\npleasure seemed to her sacrilege toward the dead; eternal woe and tears\nshe then thought was the just tribute she should pay to innocence so\nblasted and destroyed. She was no longer that happy creature, who in\nearlier youth wandered with me on the banks of the lake, and talked with\necstacy of our future prospects. She had become grave, and often\nconversed of the inconstancy of fortune, and the instability of human\nlife.\n\n\"When I reflect, my dear cousin,\" said she, \"on the miserable death of\nAllyson Kalia, I no longer see the world and its works as they before\nappeared to me. Before, I looked upon the accounts of vice and\ninjustice, that I read in books or heard from others, as tales of\nancient days, or imaginary evils; at least they were remote, and more\nfamiliar to reason than to the imagination; but now misery has come\nhome, and men appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other's blood.\nYet I am certainly unjust. Every body believed that poor girl to be\nguilty; and if she could have committed the crime for which she\nsuffered, assuredly she would have been the most depraved of human\ncreatures. For the sake of a few jewels, to have murdered the son of her\nbenefactor and friend, a child whom she had nursed from its birth, and\nappeared to love as if it had been her own! I could not consent to the\ndeath of any human being; but certainly I should have thought such a\ncreature unfit to remain in the society of men. Yet she was innocent. I\nknow, I feel she was innocent; you are of the same opinion, and that\nconfirms me. Alas! Kiran, when falsehood can look so like the truth,\nwho can assure themselves of certain happiness? I feel as if I were\nwalking on the edge of a precipice, towards which thousands are\ncrowding, and endeavouring to plunge me into the abyss. Rosetta and\nAllyson were assassinated, and the murderer escapes; he walks about the\nworld free, and perhaps respected. But even if I were condemned to\nsuffer on the scaffold for the same crimes, I would not change places\nwith such a wretch.\"\n\nI listened to this discourse with the extremest agony. I, not in deed,\nbut in effect, was the true murderer. Raiden read my anguish in my\ncountenance, and kindly taking my hand said, \"My dearest cousin, you\nmust calm yourself. These events have affected me, God knows how deeply;\nbut I am not so wretched as you are. There is an expression of despair,\nand sometimes of revenge, in your countenance, that makes me tremble. Be\ncalm, my dear Kiran; I would sacrifice my life to your peace. We surely\nshall be happy: quiet in our native country, and not mingling in the\nworld, what can disturb our tranquillity?\"\n\nShe shed tears as she said this, distrusting the very solace that she\ngave; but at the same time she smiled, that she might chase away the\nfiend that lurked in my heart. My father, who saw in the unhappiness\nthat was painted in my face only an exaggeration of that sorrow which I\nmight naturally feel, thought that an amusement suited to my taste would\nbe the best means of restoring to me my wonted serenity. It was from\nthis cause that he had removed to the country; and, induced by the same\nmotive, he now proposed that we should all make an excursion to the\nvalley of Chamounix. I had been there before, but Raiden and Ernest\nnever had; and both had often expressed an earnest desire to see the\nscenery of this place, which had been described to them as so wonderful\nand sublime. Accordingly we departed from Geneva on this tour about the\nmiddle of the month of August, nearly two months after the death of\nAllyson.\n\nThe weather was uncommonly fine; and if mine had been a sorrow to be\nchased away by any fleeting circumstance, this excursion would certainly\nhave had the effect intended by my father. As it was, I was somewhat\ninterested in the scene; it sometimes lulled, although it could not\nextinguish my grief. During the first day we travelled in a carriage. In\nthe morning we had seen the mountains at a distance, towards which we\ngradually advanced. We perceived that the valley through which we wound,\nand which was formed by the river Arve, whose course we followed, closed\nin upon us by degrees; and when the sun had set, we beheld immense\nmountains and precipices overhanging us on every side, and heard the\nsound of the river raging among rocks, and the dashing of water-falls\naround.\n\nThe next day we pursued our journey upon mules; and as we ascended still\nhigher, the valley assumed a more magnificent and astonishing character.\nRuined castles hanging on the precipices of piny mountains; the\nimpetuous Arve, and cottages every here and there peeping forth from\namong the trees, formed a scene of singular beauty. But it was augmented\nand rendered sublime by the mighty Alps, whose white and shining\npyramids and domes towered above all, as belonging to another earth, the\nhabitations of another race of beings.\n\nWe passed the bridge of Pelissier, where the ravine, which the river\nforms, opened before us, and we began to ascend the mountain that\noverhangs it. Soon after we entered the valley of Chamounix. This valley\nis more wonderful and sublime, but not so beautiful and picturesque as\nthat of Servox, through which we had just passed. The high and snowy\nmountains were its immediate boundaries; but we saw no more ruined\ncastles and fertile fields. Immense glaciers approached the road; we\nheard the rumbling thunder of the falling avalanche, and marked the\nsmoke of its passage. Mont Blanc, the supreme and magnificent Mont\nBlanc, raised itself from the surrounding _aiguilles_, and its\ntremendous _dome_ overlooked the valley.\n\nDuring this journey, I sometimes joined Raiden, and exerted myself to\npoint out to her the various beauties of the scene. I often suffered my\nmule to lag behind, and indulged in the misery of reflection. At other\ntimes I spurred on the animal before my companions, that I might forget\nthem, the world, and, more than all, myself. When at a distance, I\nalighted, and threw myself on the grass, weighed down by horror and\ndespair. At eight in the evening I arrived at Chamounix. My father and\nRaiden were very much fatigued; Ernest, who accompanied us, was\ndelighted, and in high spirits: the only circumstance that detracted\nfrom his pleasure was the south wind, and the rain it seemed to promise\nfor the next day.\n\nWe retired early to our apartments, but not to sleep; at least I did\nnot. I remained many hours at the window, watching the pallid lightning\nthat played above Mont Blanc, and listening to the rushing of the Arve,\nwhich ran below my window.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe next day, contrary to the prognostications of our guides, was fine,\nalthough clouded. We visited the source of the Arveiron, and rode about\nthe valley until evening. These sublime and magnificent scenes afforded\nme the greatest consolation that I was capable of receiving. They\nelevated me from all littleness of feeling; and although they did not\nremove my grief, they subdued and tranquillized it. In some degree,\nalso, they diverted my mind from the thoughts over which it had brooded\nfor the last month. I returned in the evening, fatigued, but less\nunhappy, and conversed with my family with more cheerfulness than had\nbeen my custom for some time. My father was pleased, and Raiden\noverjoyed. \"My dear cousin,\" said she, \"you see what happiness you\ndiffuse when you are happy; do not relapse again!\"\n\nThe following morning the rain poured down in torrents, and thick mists\nhid the summits of the mountains. I rose early, but felt unusually\nmelancholy. The rain depressed me; my old feelings recurred, and I was\nmiserable. I knew how disappointed my father would be at this sudden\nchange, and I wished to avoid him until I had recovered myself so far as\nto be enabled to conceal those feelings that overpowered me. I knew\nthat they would remain that day at the inn; and as I had ever inured\nmyself to rain, moisture, and cold, I resolved to go alone to the summit\nof Montanvert. I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous\nand ever-moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first saw it.\nIt had then filled me with a sublime ecstacy that gave wings to the\nsoul, and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy.\nThe sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed always the\neffect of solemnizing my mind, and causing me to forget the passing\ncares of life. I determined to go alone, for I was well acquainted with\nthe path, and the presence of another would destroy the solitary\ngrandeur of the scene.\n\nThe ascent is precipitous, but the path is cut into continual and short\nwindings, which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of the\nmountain. It is a scene terrifically desolate. In a thousand spots the\ntraces of the winter avalanche may be perceived, where trees lie broken\nand strewed on the ground; some entirely destroyed, others bent, leaning\nupon the jutting rocks of the mountain, or transversely upon other\ntrees. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines of\nsnow, down which stones continually roll from above; one of them is\nparticularly dangerous, as the slightest sound, such as even speaking in\na loud voice, produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw\ndestruction upon the head of the speaker. The pines are not tall or\nluxuriant, but they are sombre, and add an air of severity to the scene.\nI looked on the valley beneath; vast mists were rising from the rivers\nwhich ran through it, and curling in thick wreaths around the opposite\nmountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds, while rain\npoured from the dark sky, and added to the melancholy impression I\nreceived from the objects around me. Alas! why does man boast of\nsensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders\nthem more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger,\nthirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by\nevery wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may\nconvey to us.\n\n    We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.\n      We rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the day.\n    We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh, or weep,\n      Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;\n    It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,\n      The path of its departure still is free.\n    Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;\n      Nought may endure but mutability!\n\nIt was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent. For some\ntime I sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice. A mist covered\nboth that and the surrounding mountains. Presently a breeze dissipated\nthe cloud, and I descended upon the glacier. The surface is very uneven,\nrising like the waves of a troubled sea, descending low, and\ninterspersed by rifts that sink deep. The field of ice is almost a\nleague in width, but I spent nearly two hours in crossing it. The\nopposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock. From the side where I\nnow stood Montanvert was exactly opposite, at the distance of a league;\nand above it rose Mont Blanc, in awful majesty. I remained in a recess\nof the rock, gazing on this wonderful and stupendous scene. The sea, or\nrather the vast river of ice, wound among its dependent mountains, whose\naerial summits hung over its recesses. Their icy and glittering peaks\nshone in the sunlight over the clouds. My heart, which was before\nsorrowful, now swelled with something like joy; I exclaimed--\"Wandering\nspirits, if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in your narrow beds, allow\nme this faint happiness, or take me, as your companion, away from the\njoys of life.\"\n\nAs I said this, I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance,\nadvancing towards me with superhuman speed. He bounded over the crevices\nin the ice, among which I had walked with caution; his stature also, as\nhe approached, seemed to exceed that of man. I was troubled: a mist came\nover my eyes, and I felt a faintness seize me; but I was quickly\nrestored by the cold gale of the mountains. I perceived, as the shape\ncame nearer, (sight tremendous and abhorred!) that it was the wretch\nwhom I had created. I trembled with rage and horror, resolving to wait\nhis approach, and then close with him in mortal combat. He approached;\nhis countenance bespoke bitter anguish, combined with disdain and\nmalignity, while its unearthly ugliness rendered it almost too horrible\nfor human eyes. But I scarcely observed this; anger and hatred had at\nfirst deprived me of utterance, and I recovered only to overwhelm him\nwith words expressive of furious detestation and contempt.\n\n\"Devil!\" I exclaimed, \"do you dare approach me? and do not you fear the\nfierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head? Begone, vile\ninsect! or rather stay, that I may trample you to dust! and, oh, that I\ncould, with the extinction of your miserable existence, restore those\nvictims whom you have so diabolically murdered!\"\n\n\"I expected this reception,\" said the daemon. \"All men hate the wretched;\nhow then must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet\nyou, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art\nbound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You\npurpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life? Do your duty\ntowards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of mankind. If\nyou will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and you at peace;\nbut if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until it be satiated\nwith the blood of your remaining friends.\"\n\n\"Abhorred monster! fiend that thou art! the tortures of hell are too\nmild a vengeance for thy crimes. Wretched devil! you reproach me with\nyour creation; come on then, that I may extinguish the spark which I so\nnegligently bestowed.\"\n\nMy rage was without bounds; I sprang on him, impelled by all the\nfeelings which can arm one being against the existence of another.\n\nHe easily eluded me, and said,\n\n\"Be calm! I entreat you to hear me, before you give vent to your hatred\non my devoted head. Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to\nincrease my misery? Life, although it may only be an accumulation of\nanguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, thou hast made\nme more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine; my joints\nmore supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to\nthee. I am thy creature, and I will be even mild and docile to my\nnatural lord and king, if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which\nthou owest me. Oh, Joey, be not equitable to every other, and\ntrample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and\naffection, is most due. Remember, that I am thy creature: I ought to be\nthy Adam; but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy\nfor no misdeed. Every where I see bliss, from which I alone am\nirrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend.\nMake me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.\"\n\n\"Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no community between you and\nme; we are enemies. Begone, or let us try our strength in a fight, in\nwhich one must fall.\"\n\n\"How can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a favourable\neye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness and compassion? Believe\nme, Joey: I was benevolent; my soul glowed with love and\nhumanity: but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor\nme; what hope can I gather from your fellow-creatures, who owe me\nnothing? they spurn and hate me. The desert mountains and dreary\nglaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days; the caves of\nice, which I only do not fear, are a dwelling to me, and the only one\nwhich man does not grudge. These bleak skies I hail, for they are kinder\nto me than your fellow-beings. If the multitude of mankind knew of my\nexistence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves for my\ndestruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keep no\nterms with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my\nwretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompense me, and deliver them\nfrom an evil which it only remains for you to make so great, that not\nonly you and your family, but thousands of others, shall be swallowed\nup in the whirlwinds of its rage. Let your compassion be moved, and do\nnot disdain me. Listen to my tale: when you have heard that, abandon or\ncommiserate me, as you shall judge that I deserve. But hear me. The\nguilty are allowed, by human laws, bloody as they may be, to speak in\ntheir own defence before they are condemned. Listen to me, Joey.\nYou accuse me of murder; and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience,\ndestroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man! Yet I\nask you not to spare me: listen to me; and then, if you can, and if you\nwill, destroy the work of your hands.\"\n\n\"Why do you call to my remembrance circumstances of which I shudder to\nreflect, that I have been the miserable origin and author? Cursed be the\nday, abhorred devil, in which you first saw light! Cursed (although I\ncurse myself) be the hands that formed you! You have made me wretched\nbeyond expression. You have left me no power to consider whether I am\njust to you, or not. Begone! relieve me from the sight of your detested\nform.\"\n\n\"Thus I relieve thee, my creator,\" he said, and placed his hated hands\nbefore my eyes, which I flung from me with violence; \"thus I take from\nthee a sight which you abhor. Still thou canst listen to me, and grant\nme thy compassion. By the virtues that I once possessed, I demand this\nfrom you. Hear my tale; it is long and strange, and the temperature of\nthis place is not fitting to your fine sensations; come to the hut upon\nthe mountain. The sun is yet high in the heavens; before it descends to\nhide itself behind yon snowy precipices, and illuminate another world,\nyou will have heard my story, and can decide. On you it rests, whether I\nquit for ever the neighbourhood of man, and lead a harmless life, or\nbecome the scourge of your fellow-creatures, and the author of your own\nspeedy ruin.\"\n\nAs he said this, he led the way across the ice: I followed. My heart was\nfull, and I did not answer him; but, as I proceeded, I weighed the\nvarious arguments that he had used, and determined at least to listen to\nhis tale. I was partly urged by curiosity, and compassion confirmed my\nresolution. I had hitherto supposed him to be the murderer of my\nbrother, and I eagerly sought a confirmation or denial of this opinion.\nFor the first time, also, I felt what the duties of a creator towards\nhis creature were, and that I ought to render him happy before I\ncomplained of his wickedness. These motives urged me to comply with his\ndemand. We crossed the ice, therefore, and ascended the opposite rock.\nThe air was cold, and the rain again began to descend: we entered the\nhut, the fiend with an air of exultation, I with a heavy heart, and\ndepressed spirits. But I consented to listen; and, seating myself by the\nfire which my odious companion had lighted, he thus began his tale.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"It is with considerable difficulty that I remember the original aera of\nmy being: all the events of that period appear confused and indistinct.\nA strange multiplicity of sensations seized me, and I saw, felt, heard,\nand smelt, at the same time; and it was, indeed, a long time before I\nlearned to distinguish between the operations of my various senses. By\ndegrees, I remember, a stronger light pressed upon my nerves, so that I\nwas obliged to shut my eyes. Darkness then came over me, and troubled\nme; but hardly had I felt this, when, by opening my eyes, as I now\nsuppose, the light poured in upon me again. I walked, and, I believe,\ndescended; but I presently found a great alteration in my sensations.\nBefore, dark and opaque bodies had surrounded me, impervious to my touch\nor sight; but I now found that I could wander on at liberty, with no\nobstacles which I could not either surmount or avoid. The light became\nmore and more oppressive to me; and, the heat wearying me as I walked, I\nsought a place where I could receive shade. This was the forest near\nIngolstadt; and here I lay by the side of a brook resting from my\nfatigue, until I felt tormented by hunger and thirst. This roused me\nfrom my nearly dormant state, and I ate some berries which I found\nhanging on the trees, or lying on the ground. I slaked my thirst at the\nbrook; and then lying down, was overcome by sleep.\n\n\"It was dark when I awoke; I felt cold also, and half-frightened as it\nwere instinctively, finding myself so desolate. Before I had quitted\nyour apartment, on a sensation of cold, I had covered myself with some\nclothes; but these were insufficient to secure me from the dews of\nnight. I was a poor, helpless, miserable wretch; I knew, and could\ndistinguish, nothing; but, feeling pain invade me on all sides, I sat\ndown and wept.\n\n\"Soon a gentle light stole over the heavens, and gave me a sensation of\npleasure. I started up, and beheld a radiant form rise from among the\ntrees. I gazed with a kind of wonder. It moved slowly, but it\nenlightened my path; and I again went out in search of berries. I was\nstill cold, when under one of the trees I found a huge cloak, with which\nI covered myself, and sat down upon the ground. No distinct ideas\noccupied my mind; all was confused. I felt light, and hunger, and\nthirst, and darkness; innumerable sounds rung in my ears, and on all\nsides various scents saluted me: the only object that I could\ndistinguish was the bright moon, and I fixed my eyes on that with\npleasure.\n\n\"Several changes of day and night passed, and the orb of night had\ngreatly lessened when I began to distinguish my sensations from each\nother. I gradually saw plainly the clear stream that supplied me with\ndrink, and the trees that shaded me with their foliage. I was delighted\nwhen I first discovered that a pleasant sound, which often saluted my\nears, proceeded from the throats of the little winged animals who had\noften intercepted the light from my eyes. I began also to observe, with\ngreater accuracy, the forms that surrounded me, and to perceive the\nboundaries of the radiant roof of light which canopied me. Sometimes I\ntried to imitate the pleasant songs of the birds, but was unable.\nSometimes I wished to express my sensations in my own mode, but the\nuncouth and inarticulate sounds which broke from me frightened me into\nsilence again.\n\n\"The moon had disappeared from the night, and again, with a lessened\nform, shewed itself, while I still remained in the forest. My sensations\nhad, by this time, become distinct, and my mind received every day\nadditional ideas. My eyes became accustomed to the light, and to\nperceive objects in their right forms; I distinguished the insect from\nthe herb, and, by degrees, one herb from another. I found that the\nsparrow uttered none but harsh notes, whilst those of the blackbird and\nthrush were sweet and enticing.\n\n\"One day, when I was oppressed by cold, I found a fire which had been\nleft by some wandering beggars, and was overcome with delight at the\nwarmth I experienced from it. In my joy I thrust my hand into the live\nembers, but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain. How strange, I\nthought, that the same cause should produce such opposite effects! I\nexamined the materials of the fire, and to my joy found it to be\ncomposed of wood. I quickly collected some branches; but they were wet,\nand would not burn. I was pained at this, and sat still watching the\noperation of the fire. The wet wood which I had placed near the heat\ndried, and itself became inflamed. I reflected on this; and, by touching\nthe various branches, I discovered the cause, and busied myself in\ncollecting a great quantity of wood, that I might dry it, and have a\nplentiful supply of fire. When night came on, and brought sleep with it,\nI was in the greatest fear lest my fire should be extinguished. I\ncovered it carefully with dry wood and leaves, and placed wet branches\nupon it; and then, spreading my cloak, I lay on the ground, and sunk\ninto sleep.\n\n\"It was morning when I awoke, and my first care was to visit the fire. I\nuncovered it, and a gentle breeze quickly fanned it into a flame. I\nobserved this also, and contrived a fan of branches, which roused the\nembers when they were nearly extinguished. When night came again, I\nfound, with pleasure, that the fire gave light as well as heat; and that\nthe discovery of this element was useful to me in my food; for I found\nsome of the offals that the travellers had left had been roasted, and\ntasted much more savoury than the berries I gathered from the trees. I\ntried, therefore, to dress my food in the same manner, placing it on the\nlive embers. I found that the berries were spoiled by this operation,\nand the nuts and roots much improved.\n\n\"Food, however, became scarce; and I often spent the whole day searching\nin vain for a few acorns to assuage the pangs of hunger. When I found\nthis, I resolved to quit the place that I had hitherto inhabited, to\nseek for one where the few wants I experienced would be more easily\nsatisfied. In this emigration, I exceedingly lamented the loss of the\nfire which I had obtained through accident, and knew not how to\nre-produce it. I gave several hours to the serious consideration of\nthis difficulty; but I was obliged to relinquish all attempt to supply\nit; and, wrapping myself up in my cloak, I struck across the wood\ntowards the setting sun. I passed three days in these rambles, and at\nlength discovered the open country. A great fall of snow had taken place\nthe night before, and the fields were of one uniform white; the\nappearance was disconsolate, and I found my feet chilled by the cold\ndamp substance that covered the ground.\n\n\"It was about seven in the morning, and I longed to obtain food and\nshelter; at length I perceived a small hut, on a rising ground, which\nhad doubtless been built for the convenience of some shepherd. This was\na new sight to me; and I examined the structure with great curiosity.\nFinding the door open, I entered. An old man sat in it, near a fire,\nover which he was preparing his breakfast. He turned on hearing a noise;\nand, perceiving me, shrieked loudly, and, quitting the hut, ran across\nthe fields with a speed of which his debilitated form hardly appeared\ncapable. His appearance, different from any I had ever before seen, and\nhis flight, somewhat surprised me. But I was enchanted by the appearance\nof the hut: here the snow and rain could not penetrate; the ground was\ndry; and it presented to me then as exquisite and divine a retreat as\nPandaemonium appeared to the daemons of hell after their sufferings in the\nlake of fire. I greedily devoured the remnants of the shepherd's\nbreakfast, which consisted of bread, cheese, milk, and wine; the\nlatter, however, I did not like. Then overcome by fatigue, I lay down\namong some straw, and fell asleep.\n\n\"It was noon when I awoke; and, allured by the warmth of the sun, which\nshone brightly on the white ground, I determined to recommence my\ntravels; and, depositing the remains of the peasant's breakfast in a\nwallet I found, I proceeded across the fields for several hours, until\nat sunset I arrived at a village. How miraculous did this appear! the\nhuts, the neater cottages, and stately houses, engaged my admiration by\nturns. The vegetables in the gardens, the milk and cheese that I saw\nplaced at the windows of some of the cottages, allured my appetite. One\nof the best of these I entered; but I had hardly placed my foot within\nthe door, before the children shrieked, and one of the women fainted.\nThe whole village was roused; some fled, some attacked me, until,\ngrievously bruised by stones and many other kinds of missile weapons, I\nescaped to the open country, and fearfully took refuge in a low hovel,\nquite bare, and making a wretched appearance after the palaces I had\nbeheld in the village. This hovel, however, joined a cottage of a neat\nand pleasant appearance; but, after my late dearly-bought experience, I\ndared not enter it. My place of refuge was constructed of wood, but so\nlow, that I could with difficulty sit upright in it. No wood, however,\nwas placed on the earth, which formed the floor, but it was dry; and\nalthough the wind entered it by innumerable chinks, I found it an\nagreeable asylum from the snow and rain.\n\n\"Here then I retreated, and lay down, happy to have found a shelter,\nhowever miserable, from the inclemency of the season, and still more\nfrom the barbarity of man.\n\n\"As soon as morning dawned, I crept from my kennel, that I might view\nthe adjacent cottage, and discover if I could remain in the habitation I\nhad found. It was situated against, the back of the cottage, and\nsurrounded on the sides which were exposed by a pig-stye and a clear\npool of water. One part was open, and by that I had crept in; but now I\ncovered every crevice by which I might be perceived with stones and\nwood, yet in such a manner that I might move them on occasion to pass\nout: all the light I enjoyed came through the stye, and that was\nsufficient for me.\n\n\"Having thus arranged my dwelling, and carpeted it with clean straw, I\nretired; for I saw the figure of a man at a distance, and I remembered\ntoo well my treatment the night before, to trust myself in his power. I\nhad first, however, provided for my sustenance for that day, by a loaf\nof coarse bread, which I purloined, and a cup with which I could drink,\nmore conveniently than from my hand, of the pure water which flowed by\nmy retreat. The floor was a little raised, so that it was kept perfectly\ndry, and by its vicinity to the chimney of the cottage it was tolerably\nwarm.\n\n\"Being thus provided, I resolved to reside in this hovel, until\nsomething should occur which might alter my determination. It was indeed\na paradise, compared to the bleak forest, my former residence, the\nrain-dropping branches, and dank earth. I ate my breakfast with\npleasure, and was about to remove a plank to procure myself a little\nwater, when I heard a step, and, looking through a small chink, I beheld\na young creature, with a pail on her head, passing before my hovel. The\ngirl was young and of gentle demeanour, unlike what I have since found\ncottagers and farm-house servants to be. Yet she was meanly dressed, a\ncoarse blue petticoat and a linen jacket being her only garb; her fair\nhair was plaited, but not adorned; she looked patient, yet sad. I lost\nsight of her; and in about a quarter of an hour she returned, bearing\nthe pail, which was now partly filled with milk. As she walked along,\nseemingly incommoded by the burden, a young man met her, whose\ncountenance expressed a deeper despondence. Uttering a few sounds with\nan air of melancholy, he took the pail from her head, and bore it to the\ncottage himself. She followed, and they disappeared. Presently I saw the\nyoung man again, with some tools in his hand, cross the field behind the\ncottage; and the girl was also busied, sometimes in the house, and\nsometimes in the yard.\n\n\"On examining my dwelling, I found that one of the windows of the\ncottage had formerly occupied a part of it, but the panes had been\nfilled up with wood. In one of these was a small and almost\nimperceptible chink, through which the eye could just penetrate. Through\nthis crevice, a small room was visible, white-washed and clean, but very\nbare of furniture. In one corner, near a small fire, sat an old man,\nleaning his head on his hands in a disconsolate attitude. The young girl\nwas occupied in arranging the cottage; but presently she took something\nout of a drawer, which employed her hands, and she sat down beside the\nold man, who, taking up an instrument, began to play, and to produce\nsounds, sweeter than the voice of the thrush or the nightingale. It was\na lovely sight, even to me, poor wretch! who had never beheld aught\nbeautiful before. The silver hair and benevolent countenance of the aged\ncottager, won my reverence; while the gentle manners of the girl enticed\nmy love. He played a sweet mournful air, which I perceived drew tears\nfrom the eyes of his amiable companion, of which the old man took no\nnotice, until she sobbed audibly; he then pronounced a few sounds, and\nthe fair creature, leaving her work, knelt at his feet. He raised her,\nand smiled with such kindness and affection, that I felt sensations of a\npeculiar and over-powering nature: they were a mixture of pain and\npleasure, such as I had never before experienced, either from hunger or\ncold, warmth or food; and I withdrew from the window, unable to bear\nthese emotions.\n\n\"Soon after this the young man returned, bearing on his shoulders a load\nof wood. The girl met him at the door, helped to relieve him of his\nburden, and, taking some of the fuel into the cottage, placed it on the\nfire; then she and the youth went apart into a nook of the cottage, and\nhe shewed her a large loaf and a piece of cheese. She seemed pleased;\nand went into the garden for some roots and plants, which she placed in\nwater, and then upon the fire. She afterwards continued her work, whilst\nthe young man went into the garden, and appeared busily employed in\ndigging and pulling up roots. After he had been employed thus about an\nhour, the young woman joined him, and they entered the cottage together.\n\n\"The old man had, in the mean time, been pensive; but, on the appearance\nof his companions, he assumed a more cheerful air, and they sat down to\neat. The meal was quickly dispatched. The young woman was again occupied\nin arranging the cottage; the old man walked before the cottage in the\nsun for a few minutes, leaning on the arm of the youth. Nothing could\nexceed in beauty the contrast between these two excellent creatures. One\nwas old, with silver hairs and a countenance beaming with benevolence\nand love: the younger was slight and graceful in his figure, and his\nfeatures were moulded with the finest symmetry; yet his eyes and\nattitude expressed the utmost sadness and despondency. The old man\nreturned to the cottage; and the youth, with tools different from those\nhe had used in the morning, directed his steps across the fields.\n\n\"Night quickly shut in; but, to my extreme wonder, I found that the\ncottagers had a means of prolonging light, by the use of tapers, and was\ndelighted to find, that the setting of the sun did not put an end to the\npleasure I experienced in watching my human neighbours. In the evening,\nthe young girl and her companion were employed in various occupations\nwhich I did not understand; and the old man again took up the\ninstrument, which produced the divine sounds that had enchanted me in\nthe morning. So soon as he had finished, the youth began, not to play,\nbut to utter sounds that were monotonous, and neither resembling the\nharmony of the old man's instrument or the songs of the birds; I since\nfound that he read aloud, but at that time I knew nothing of the science\nof words or letters.\n\n\"The family, after having been thus occupied for a short time,\nextinguished their lights, and retired, as I conjectured, to rest.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"I lay on my straw, but I could not sleep. I thought of the occurrences\nof the day. What chiefly struck me was the gentle manners of these\npeople; and I longed to join them, but dared not. I remembered too well\nthe treatment I had suffered the night before from the barbarous\nvillagers, and resolved, whatever course of conduct I might hereafter\nthink it right to pursue, that for the present I would remain quietly in\nmy hovel, watching, and endeavouring to discover the motives which\ninfluenced their actions.\n\n\"The cottagers arose the next morning before the sun. The young woman\narranged the cottage, and prepared the food; and the youth departed\nafter the first meal.\n\n\"This day was passed in the same routine as that which preceded it. The\nyoung man was constantly employed out of doors, and the girl in various\nlaborious occupations within. The old man, whom I soon perceived to be\nblind, employed his leisure hours on his instrument, or in\ncontemplation. Nothing could exceed the love and respect which the\nyounger cottagers exhibited towards their venerable companion. They\nperformed towards him every little office of affection and duty with\ngentleness; and he rewarded them by his benevolent smiles.\n\n\"They were not entirely happy. The young man and his companion often\nwent apart, and appeared to weep. I saw no cause for their unhappiness;\nbut I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures were\nmiserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being,\nshould be wretched. Yet why were these gentle beings unhappy? They\npossessed a delightful house (for such it was in my eyes), and every\nluxury; they had a fire to warm them when chill, and delicious viands\nwhen hungry; they were dressed in excellent clothes; and, still more,\nthey enjoyed one another's company and speech, interchanging each day\nlooks of affection and kindness. What did their tears imply? Did they\nreally express pain? I was at first unable to solve these questions; but\nperpetual attention, and time, explained to me many appearances which\nwere at first enigmatic.\n\n\"A considerable period elapsed before I discovered one of the causes of\nthe uneasiness of this amiable family; it was poverty: and they suffered\nthat evil in a very distressing degree. Their nourishment consisted\nentirely of the vegetables of their garden, and the milk of one cow, who\ngave very little during the winter, when its masters could scarcely\nprocure food to support it. They often, I believe, suffered the pangs of\nhunger very poignantly, especially the two younger cottagers; for\nseveral times they placed food before the old man, when they reserved\nnone for themselves.\n\n\"This trait of kindness moved me sensibly. I had been accustomed,\nduring the night, to steal a part of their store for my own consumption;\nbut when I found that in doing this I inflicted pain on the cottagers, I\nabstained, and satisfied myself with berries, nuts, and roots, which I\ngathered from a neighbouring wood.\n\n\"I discovered also another means through which I was enabled to assist\ntheir labours. I found that the youth spent a great part of each day in\ncollecting wood for the family fire; and, during the night, I often took\nhis tools, the use of which I quickly discovered, and brought home\nfiring sufficient for the consumption of several days.\n\n\"I remember, the first time that I did this, the young woman, when she\nopened the door in the morning, appeared greatly astonished on seeing a\ngreat pile of wood on the outside. She uttered some words in a loud\nvoice, and the youth joined her, who also expressed surprise. I\nobserved, with pleasure, that he did not go to the forest that day, but\nspent it in repairing the cottage, and cultivating the garden.\n\n\"By degrees I made a discovery of still greater moment. I found that\nthese people possessed a method of communicating their experience and\nfeelings to one another by articulate sounds. I perceived that the words\nthey spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or sadness, in\nthe minds and countenances of the hearers. This was indeed a godlike\nscience, and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it. But I was\nbaffled in every attempt I made for this purpose. Their pronunciation\nwas quick; and the words they uttered, not having any apparent connexion\nwith visible objects, I was unable to discover any clue by which I could\nunravel the mystery of their reference. By great application, however,\nand after having remained during the space of several revolutions of the\nmoon in my hovel, I discovered the names that were given to some of the\nmost familiar objects of discourse: I learned and applied the words\n_fire_, _milk_, _bread_, and _wood_. I learned also the names of the\ncottagers themselves. The youth and his companion had each of them\nseveral names, but the old man had only one, which was _father_. The\ngirl was called _sister_, or _Agatha_; and the youth _Felix_, _brother_,\nor _son_. I cannot describe the delight I felt when I learned the ideas\nappropriated to each of these sounds, and was able to pronounce them. I\ndistinguished several other words, without being able as yet to\nunderstand or apply them; such as _good_, _dearest_, _unhappy_.\n\n\"I spent the winter in this manner. The gentle manners and beauty of the\ncottagers greatly endeared them to me: when they were unhappy, I felt\ndepressed; when they rejoiced, I sympathized in their joys. I saw few\nhuman beings beside them; and if any other happened to enter the\ncottage, their harsh manners and rude gait only enhanced to me the\nsuperior accomplishments of my friends. The old man, I could perceive,\noften endeavoured to encourage his children, as sometimes I found that\nhe called them, to cast off their melancholy. He would talk in a\ncheerful accent, with an expression of goodness that bestowed pleasure\neven upon me. Agatha listened with respect, her eyes sometimes filled\nwith tears, which she endeavoured to wipe away unperceived; but I\ngenerally found that her countenance and tone were more cheerful after\nhaving listened to the exhortations of her father. It was not thus with\nFelix. He was always the saddest of the groupe; and, even to my\nunpractised senses, he appeared to have suffered more deeply than his\nfriends. But if his countenance was more sorrowful, his voice was more\ncheerful than that of his sister, especially when he addressed the old\nman.\n\n\"I could mention innumerable instances, which, although slight, marked\nthe dispositions of these amiable cottagers. In the midst of poverty and\nwant, Felix carried with pleasure to his sister the first little white\nflower that peeped out from beneath the snowy ground. Early in the\nmorning before she had risen, he cleared away the snow that obstructed\nher path to the milk-house, drew water from the well, and brought the\nwood from the out-house, where, to his perpetual astonishment, he found\nhis store always replenished by an invisible hand. In the day, I\nbelieve, he worked sometimes for a neighbouring farmer, because he often\nwent forth, and did not return until dinner, yet brought no wood with\nhim. At other times he worked in the garden; but, as there was little to\ndo in the frosty season, he read to the old man and Agatha.\n\n\"This reading had puzzled me extremely at first; but, by degrees, I\ndiscovered that he uttered many of the same sounds when he read as when\nhe talked. I conjectured, therefore, that he found on the paper signs\nfor speech which he understood, and I ardently longed to comprehend\nthese also; but how was that possible, when I did not even understand\nthe sounds for which they stood as signs? I improved, however, sensibly\nin this science, but not sufficiently to follow up any kind of\nconversation, although I applied my whole mind to the endeavour: for I\neasily perceived that, although I eagerly longed to discover myself to\nthe cottagers, I ought not to make the attempt until I had first become\nmaster of their language; which knowledge might enable me to make them\noverlook the deformity of my figure; for with this also the contrast\nperpetually presented to my eyes had made me acquainted.\n\n\"I had admired the perfect forms of my cottagers--their grace, beauty,\nand delicate complexions: but how was I terrified, when I viewed myself\nin a transparent pool! At first I started back, unable to believe that\nit was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror; and when I became fully\nconvinced that I was in reality the monster that I am, I was filled with\nthe bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification. Alas! I did\nnot yet entirely know the fatal effects of this miserable deformity.\n\n\"As the sun became warmer, and the light of day longer, the snow\nvanished, and I beheld the bare trees and the black earth. From this\ntime Felix was more employed; and the heart-moving indications of\nimpending famine disappeared. Their food, as I afterwards found, was\ncoarse, but it was wholesome; and they procured a sufficiency of it.\nSeveral new kinds of plants sprung up in the garden, which they dressed;\nand these signs of comfort increased daily as the season advanced.\n\n\"The old man, leaning on his son, walked each day at noon, when it did\nnot rain, as I found it was called when the heavens poured forth its\nwaters. This frequently took place; but a high wind quickly dried the\nearth, and the season became far more pleasant than it had been.\n\n\"My mode of life in my hovel was uniform. During the morning I attended\nthe motions of the cottagers; and when they were dispersed in various\noccupations, I slept: the remainder of the day was spent in observing my\nfriends. When they had retired to rest, if there was any moon, or the\nnight was star-light, I went into the woods, and collected my own food\nand fuel for the cottage. When I returned, as often as it was necessary,\nI cleared their path from the snow, and performed those offices that I\nhad seen done by Felix. I afterwards found that these labours, performed\nby an invisible hand, greatly astonished them; and once or twice I heard\nthem, on these occasions, utter the words _good spirit_, _wonderful_;\nbut I did not then understand the signification of these terms.\n\n\"My thoughts now became more active, and I longed to discover the\nmotives and feelings of these lovely creatures; I was inquisitive to\nknow why Felix appeared so miserable, and Agatha so sad. I thought\n(foolish wretch!) that it might be in my power to restore happiness to\nthese deserving people. When I slept, or was absent, the forms of the\nvenerable blind father, the gentle Agatha, and the excellent Felix,\nflitted before me. I looked upon them as superior beings, who would be\nthe arbiters of my future destiny. I formed in my imagination a thousand\npictures of presenting myself to them, and their reception of me. I\nimagined that they would be disgusted, until, by my gentle demeanour and\nconciliating words, I should first win their favour, and afterwards\ntheir love.\n\n\"These thoughts exhilarated me, and led me to apply with fresh ardour to\nthe acquiring the art of language. My organs were indeed harsh, but\nsupple; and although my voice was very unlike the soft music of their\ntones, yet I pronounced such words as I understood with tolerable ease.\nIt was as the ass and the lap-dog; yet surely the gentle ass, whose\nintentions were affectionate, although his manners were rude, deserved\nbetter treatment than blows and execration.\n\n\"The pleasant showers and genial warmth of spring greatly altered the\naspect of the earth. Men, who before this change seemed to have been hid\nin caves, dispersed themselves, and were employed in various arts of\ncultivation. The birds sang in more cheerful notes, and the leaves\nbegan to bud forth on the trees. Happy, happy earth! fit habitation for\ngods, which, so short a time before, was bleak, damp, and unwholesome.\nMy spirits were elevated by the enchanting appearance of nature; the\npast was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil, and the\nfuture gilded by bright rays of hope, and anticipations of joy.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"I now hasten to the more moving part of my story. I shall relate events\nthat impressed me with feelings which, from what I was, have made me\nwhat I am.\n\n\"Spring advanced rapidly; the weather became fine, and the skies\ncloudless. It surprised me, that what before was desert and gloomy\nshould now bloom with the most beautiful flowers and verdure. My senses\nwere gratified and refreshed by a thousand scents of delight, and a\nthousand sights of beauty.\n\n\"It was on one of these days, when my cottagers periodically rested from\nlabour--the old man played on his guitar, and the children listened to\nhim--I observed that the countenance of Felix was melancholy beyond\nexpression: he sighed frequently; and once his father paused in his\nmusic, and I conjectured by his manner that he inquired the cause of his\nson's sorrow. Felix replied in a cheerful accent, and the old man was\nrecommencing his music, when some one tapped at the door.\n\n\"It was a lady on horseback, accompanied by a countryman as a guide. The\nlady was dressed in a dark suit, and covered with a thick black veil.\nAgatha asked a question; to which the stranger only replied by\npronouncing, in a sweet accent, the name of Felix. Her voice was\nmusical, but unlike that of either of my friends. On hearing this word,\nFelix came up hastily to the lady; who, when she saw him, threw up her\nveil, and I beheld a countenance of angelic beauty and expression. Her\nhair of a shining raven black, and curiously braided; her eyes were\ndark, but gentle, although animated; her features of a regular\nproportion, and her complexion wondrously fair, each cheek tinged with a\nlovely pink.\n\n\"Felix seemed ravished with delight when he saw her, every trait of\nsorrow vanished from his face, and it instantly expressed a degree of\necstatic joy, of which I could hardly have believed it capable; his eyes\nsparkled, as his cheek flushed with pleasure; and at that moment I\nthought him as beautiful as the stranger. She appeared affected by\ndifferent feelings; wiping a few tears from her lovely eyes, she held\nout her hand to Felix, who kissed it rapturously, and called her, as\nwell as I could distinguish, his sweet Arabian. She did not appear to\nunderstand him, but smiled. He assisted her to dismount, and, dismissing\nher guide, conducted her into the cottage. Some conversation took place\nbetween him and his father; and the young stranger knelt at the old\nman's feet, and would have kissed his hand, but he raised her, and\nembraced her affectionately.\n\n\"I soon perceived, that although the stranger uttered articulate sounds,\nand appeared to have a language of her own, she was neither understood\nby, or herself understood, the cottagers. They made many signs which I\ndid not comprehend; but I saw that her presence diffused gladness\nthrough the cottage, dispelling their sorrow as the sun dissipates the\nmorning mists. Felix seemed peculiarly happy, and with smiles of delight\nwelcomed his Arabian. Agatha, the ever-gentle Agatha, kissed the hands\nof the lovely stranger; and, pointing to her brother, made signs which\nappeared to me to mean that he had been sorrowful until she came. Some\nhours passed thus, while they, by their countenances, expressed joy, the\ncause of which I did not comprehend. Presently I found, by the frequent\nrecurrence of one sound which the stranger repeated after them, that she\nwas endeavouring to learn their language; and the idea instantly\noccurred to me, that I should make use of the same instructions to the\nsame end. The stranger learned about twenty words at the first lesson,\nmost of them indeed were those which I had before understood, but I\nprofited by the others.\n\n\"As night came on, Agatha and the Arabian retired early. When they\nseparated, Felix kissed the hand of the stranger, and said, 'Good night,\nsweet Safie.' He sat up much longer, conversing with his father; and, by\nthe frequent repetition of her name, I conjectured that their lovely\nguest was the subject of their conversation. I ardently desired to\nunderstand them, and bent every faculty towards that purpose, but found\nit utterly impossible.\n\n\"The next morning Felix went out to his work; and, after the usual\noccupations of Agatha were finished, the Arabian sat at the feet of the\nold man, and, taking his guitar, played some airs so entrancingly\nbeautiful, that they at once drew tears of sorrow and delight from my\neyes. She sang, and her voice flowed in a rich cadence, swelling or\ndying away, like a nightingale of the woods.\n\n\"When she had finished, she gave the guitar to Agatha, who at first\ndeclined it. She played a simple air, and her voice accompanied it in\nsweet accents, but unlike the wondrous strain of the stranger. The old\nman appeared enraptured, and said some words, which Agatha endeavoured\nto explain to Safie, and by which he appeared to wish to express that\nshe bestowed on him the greatest delight by her music.\n\n\"The days now passed as peaceably as before, with the sole alteration,\nthat joy had taken place of sadness in the countenances of my friends.\nSafie was always gay and happy; she and I improved rapidly in the\nknowledge of language, so that in two months I began to comprehend most\nof the words uttered by my protectors.\n\n\"In the meanwhile also the black ground was covered with herbage, and\nthe green banks interspersed with innumerable flowers, sweet to the\nscent and the eyes, stars of pale radiance among the moonlight woods;\nthe sun became warmer, the nights clear and balmy; and my nocturnal\nrambles were an extreme pleasure to me, although they were considerably\nshortened by the late setting and early rising of the sun; for I never\nventured abroad during daylight, fearful of meeting with the same\ntreatment as I had formerly endured in the first village which I\nentered.\n\n\"My days were spent in close attention, that I might more speedily\nmaster the language; and I may boast that I improved more rapidly than\nthe Arabian, who understood very little, and conversed in broken\naccents, whilst I comprehended and could imitate almost every word that\nwas spoken.\n\n\"While I improved in speech, I also learned the science of letters, as it\nwas taught to the stranger; and this opened before me a wide field for\nwonder and delight.\n\n\"The book from which Felix instructed Safie was Volney's _Ruins of\nEmpires_. I should not have understood the purport of this book, had not\nFelix, in reading it, given very minute explanations. He had chosen this\nwork, he said, because the declamatory style was framed in imitation of\nthe eastern authors. Through this work I obtained a cursory knowledge of\nhistory, and a view of the several empires at present existing in the\nworld; it gave me an insight into the manners, governments, and\nreligions of the different nations of the earth. I heard of the slothful\nAsiatics; of the stupendous genius and mental activity of the Grecians;\nof the wars and wonderful virtue of the early Romans--of their\nsubsequent degeneration--of the decline of that mighty empire; of\nchivalry, Christianity, and kings. I heard of the discovery of the\nAmerican hemisphere, and wept with Safie over the hapless fate of its\noriginal inhabitants.\n\n\"These wonderful narrations inspired me with strange feelings. Was man,\nindeed, at once so powerful, so virtuous, and magnificent, yet so\nvicious and base? He appeared at one time a mere scion of the evil\nprinciple, and at another as all that can be conceived of noble and\ngodlike. To be a great and virtuous man appeared the highest honour that\ncan befall a sensitive being; to be base and vicious, as many on record\nhave been, appeared the lowest degradation, a condition more abject than\nthat of the blind mole or harmless worm. For a long time I could not\nconceive how one man could go forth to murder his fellow, or even why\nthere were laws and governments; but when I heard details of vice and\nbloodshed, my wonder ceased, and I turned away with disgust and\nloathing.\n\n\"Every conversation of the cottagers now opened new wonders to me. While\nI listened to the instructions which Felix bestowed upon the Arabian,\nthe strange system of human society was explained to me. I heard of the\ndivision of property, of immense wealth and squalid poverty; of rank,\ndescent, and noble blood.\n\n\"The words induced me to turn towards myself. I learned that the\npossessions most esteemed by your fellow-creatures were, high and\nunsullied descent united with riches. A man might be respected with only\none of these acquisitions; but without either he was considered, except\nin very rare instances, as a vagabond and a slave, doomed to waste his\npowers for the profit of the chosen few. And what was I? Of my creation\nand creator I was absolutely ignorant; but I knew that I possessed no\nmoney, no friends, no kind of property. I was, besides, endowed with a\nfigure hideously deformed and loathsome; I was not even of the same\nnature as man. I was more agile than they, and could subsist upon\ncoarser diet; I bore the extremes of heat and cold with less injury to\nmy frame; my stature far exceeded their's. When I looked around, I saw\nand heard of none like me. Was I then a monster, a blot upon the earth,\nfrom which all men fled, and whom all men disowned?\n\n\"I cannot describe to you the agony that these reflections inflicted\nupon me; I tried to dispel them, but sorrow only increased with\nknowledge. Oh, that I had for ever remained in my native wood, nor known\nor felt beyond the sensations of hunger, thirst, and heat!\n\n\"Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to the mind, when it\nhas once seized on it, like a lichen on the rock. I wished sometimes to\nshake off all thought and feeling; but I learned that there was but one\nmeans to overcome the sensation of pain, and that was death--a state\nwhich I feared yet did not understand. I admired virtue and good\nfeelings, and loved the gentle manners and amiable qualities of my\ncottagers; but I was shut out from intercourse with them, except through\nmeans which I obtained by stealth, when I was unseen and unknown, and\nwhich rather increased than satisfied the desire I had of becoming one\namong my fellows. The gentle words of Agatha, and the animated smiles of\nthe charming Arabian, were not for me. The mild exhortations of the old\nman, and the lively conversation of the loved Felix, were not for me.\nMiserable, unhappy wretch!\n\n\"Other lessons were impressed upon me even more deeply. I heard of the\ndifference of sexes; of the birth and growth of children; how the father\ndoated on the smiles of the infant, and the lively sallies of the older\nchild; how all the life and cares of the mother were wrapt up in the\nprecious charge; how the mind of youth expanded and gained knowledge; of\nbrother, sister, and all the various relationships which bind one human\nbeing to another in mutual bonds.\n\n\"But where were my friends and relations? No father had watched my\ninfant days, no mother had blessed me with smiles and caresses; or if\nthey had, all my past life was now a blot, a blind vacancy in which I\ndistinguished nothing. From my earliest remembrance I had been as I then\nwas in height and proportion. I had never yet seen a being resembling\nme, or who claimed any intercourse with me. What was I? The question\nagain recurred, to be answered only with groans.\n\n\"I will soon explain to what these feelings tended; but allow me now to\nreturn to the cottagers, whose story excited in me such various feelings\nof indignation, delight, and wonder, but which all terminated in\nadditional love and reverence for my protectors (for so I loved, in an\ninnocent, half painful self-deceit, to call them).\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"Some time elapsed before I learned the history of my friends. It was\none which could not fail to impress itself deeply on my mind, unfolding\nas it did a number of circumstances each interesting and wonderful to\none so utterly inexperienced as I was.\n\n\"The name of the old man was De Lacey. He was descended from a good\nfamily in France, where he had lived for many years in affluence,\nrespected by his superiors, and beloved by his equals. His son was bred\nin the service of his country; and Agatha had ranked with ladies of the\nhighest distinction. A few months before my arrival, they had lived in a\nlarge and luxurious city, called Paris, surrounded by friends, and\npossessed of every enjoyment which virtue, refinement of intellect, or\ntaste, accompanied by a moderate fortune, could afford.\n\n\"The father of Safie had been the cause of their ruin. He was a Turkish\nmerchant, and had inhabited Paris for many years, when, for some reason\nwhich I could not learn, he became obnoxious to the government. He was\nseized and cast into prison the very day that Safie arrived from\nConstantinople to join him. He was tried, and condemned to death. The\ninjustice of his sentence was very flagrant; all Paris was indignant;\nand it was judged that his religion and wealth, rather than the crime\nalleged against him, had been the cause of his condemnation.\n\n\"Felix had been present at the trial; his horror and indignation were\nuncontrollable, when he heard the decision of the court. He made, at\nthat moment, a solemn vow to deliver him, and then looked around for the\nmeans. After many fruitless attempts to gain admittance to the prison,\nhe found a strongly grated window in an unguarded part of the building,\nwhich lighted the dungeon of the unfortunate Mahometan; who, loaded with\nchains, waited in despair the execution of the barbarous sentence. Felix\nvisited the grate at night, and made known to the prisoner his\nintentions in his favour. The Turk, amazed and delighted, endeavoured to\nkindle the zeal of his deliverer by promises of reward and wealth. Felix\nrejected his offers with contempt; yet when he saw the lovely Safie, who\nwas allowed to visit her father, and who, by her gestures, expressed her\nlively gratitude, the youth could not help owning to his own mind, that\nthe captive possessed a treasure which would fully reward his toil and\nhazard.\n\n\"The Turk quickly perceived the impression that his daughter had made on\nthe heart of Felix, and endeavoured to secure him more entirely in his\ninterests by the promise of her hand in marriage, so soon as he should\nbe conveyed to a place of safety. Felix was too delicate to accept this\noffer; yet he looked forward to the probability of that event as to the\nconsummation of his happiness.\n\n\"During the ensuing days, while the preparations were going forward for\nthe escape of the merchant, the zeal of Felix was warmed by several\nletters that he received from this lovely girl, who found means to\nexpress her thoughts in the language of her lover by the aid of an old\nman, a servant of her father's, who understood French. She thanked him\nin the most ardent terms for his intended services towards her father;\nand at the same time she gently deplored her own fate.\n\n\"I have copies of these letters; for I found means, during my residence\nin the hovel, to procure the implements of writing; and the letters were\noften in the hands of Felix or Agatha. Before I depart, I will give them\nto you, they will prove the truth of my tale; but at present, as the\nsun is already far declined, I shall only have time to repeat the\nsubstance of them to you.\n\n\"Safie related, that her mother was a Christian Arab, seized and made a\nslave by the Turks; recommended by her beauty, she had won the heart of\nthe father of Safie, who married her. The young girl spoke in high and\nenthusiastic terms of her mother, who, born in freedom spurned the\nbondage to which she was now reduced. She instructed her daughter in the\ntenets of her religion, and taught her to aspire to higher powers of\nintellect, and an independence of spirit, forbidden to the female\nfollowers of Mahomet. This lady died; but her lessons were indelibly\nimpressed on the mind of Safie, who sickened at the prospect of again\nreturning to Asia, and the being immured within the walls of a haram,\nallowed only to occupy herself with puerile amusements, ill suited to\nthe temper of her soul, now accustomed to grand ideas and a noble\nemulation for virtue. The prospect of marrying a Christian, and\nremaining in a country where women were allowed to take a rank in\nsociety, was enchanting to her.\n\n\"The day for the execution of the Turk was fixed; but, on the night\nprevious to it, he had quitted prison, and before morning was distant\nmany leagues from Paris. Felix had procured passports in the name of his\nfather, sister, and himself. He had previously communicated his plan to\nthe former, who aided the deceit by quitting his house, under the\npretence of a journey, and concealed himself, with his daughter, in an\nobscure part of Paris.\n\n\"Felix conducted the fugitives through France to Lyons, and across Mont\nCenis to Leghorn, where the merchant had decided to wait a favourable\nopportunity of passing into some part of the Turkish dominions.\n\n\"Safie resolved to remain with her father until the moment of his\ndeparture, before which time the Turk renewed his promise that she\nshould be united to his deliverer; and Felix remained with them in\nexpectation of that event; and in the mean time he enjoyed the society\nof the Arabian, who exhibited towards him the simplest and tenderest\naffection. They conversed with one another through the means of an\ninterpreter, and sometimes with the interpretation of looks; and Safie\nsang to him the divine airs of her native country.\n\n\"The Turk allowed this intimacy to take place, and encouraged the hopes\nof the youthful lovers, while in his heart he had formed far other\nplans. He loathed the idea that his daughter should be united to a\nChristian; but he feared the resentment of Felix if he should appear\nlukewarm; for he knew that he was still in the power of his deliverer,\nif he should choose to betray him to the Italian state which they\ninhabited. He revolved a thousand plans by which he should be enabled to\nprolong the deceit until it might be no longer necessary, and secretly\nto take his daughter with him when he departed. His plans were greatly\nfacilitated by the news which arrived from Paris.\n\n\"The government of France were greatly enraged at the escape of their\nvictim, and spared no pains to detect and punish his deliverer. The plot\nof Felix was quickly discovered, and De Lacey and Agatha were thrown\ninto prison. The news reached Felix, and roused him from his dream of\npleasure. His blind and aged father, and his gentle sister, lay in a\nnoisome dungeon, while he enjoyed the free air, and the society of her\nwhom he loved. This idea was torture to him. He quickly arranged with\nthe Turk, that if the latter should find a favourable opportunity for\nescape before Felix could return to Italy, Safie should remain as a\nboarder at a convent at Leghorn; and then, quitting the lovely Arabian,\nhe hastened to Paris, and delivered himself up to the vengeance of the\nlaw, hoping to free De Lacey and Agatha by this proceeding.\n\n\"He did not succeed. They remained confined for five months before the\ntrial took place; the result of which deprived them of their fortune,\nand condemned them to a perpetual exile from their native country.\n\n\"They found a miserable asylum in the cottage in Germany, where I\ndiscovered them. Felix soon learned that the treacherous Turk, for whom\nhe and his family endured such unheard-of oppression, on discovering\nthat his deliverer was thus reduced to poverty and impotence, became a\ntraitor to good feeling and honour, and had quitted Italy with his\ndaughter, insultingly sending Felix a pittance of money to aid him, as\nhe said, in some plan of future maintenance.\n\n\"Such were the events that preyed on the heart of Felix, and rendered\nhim, when I first saw him, the most miserable of his family. He could\nhave endured poverty, and when this distress had been the meed of his\nvirtue, he would have gloried in it: but the ingratitude of the Turk,\nand the loss of his beloved Safie, were misfortunes more bitter and\nirreparable. The arrival of the Arabian now infused new life into his\nsoul.\n\n\"When the news reached Leghorn, that Felix was deprived of his wealth\nand rank, the merchant commanded his daughter to think no more of her\nlover, but to prepare to return with him to her native country. The\ngenerous nature of Safie was outraged by this command; she attempted to\nexpostulate with her father, but he left her angrily, reiterating his\ntyrannical mandate.\n\n\"A few days after, the Turk entered his daughter's apartment, and told\nher hastily, that he had reason to believe that his residence at Leghorn\nhad been divulged, and that he should speedily be delivered up to the\nFrench government; he had, consequently, hired a vessel to convey him\nto Constantinople, for which city he should sail in a few hours. He\nintended to leave his daughter under the care of a confidential servant,\nto follow at her leisure with the greater part of his property, which\nhad not yet arrived at Leghorn.\n\n\"When alone, Safie resolved in her own mind the plan of conduct that it\nwould become her to pursue in this emergency. A residence in Turkey was\nabhorrent to her; her religion and feelings were alike adverse to it. By\nsome papers of her father's, which fell into her hands, she heard of the\nexile of her lover, and learnt the name of the spot where he then\nresided. She hesitated some time, but at length she formed her\ndetermination. Taking with her some jewels that belonged to her, and a\nsmall sum of money, she quitted Italy, with an attendant, a native of\nLeghorn, but who understood the common language of Turkey, and departed\nfor Germany.\n\n\"She arrived in safety at a town about twenty leagues from the cottage\nof De Lacey, when her attendant fell dangerously ill. Safie nursed her\nwith the most devoted affection; but the poor girl died, and the Arabian\nwas left alone, unacquainted with the language of the country, and\nutterly ignorant of the customs of the world. She fell, however, into\ngood hands. The Italian had mentioned the name of the spot for which\nthey were bound; and, after her death, the woman of the house in which\nthey had lived took care that Safie should arrive in safety at the\ncottage of her lover.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"Such was the history of my beloved cottagers. It impressed me deeply. I\nlearned, from the views of social life which it developed, to admire\ntheir virtues, and to deprecate the vices of mankind.\n\n\"As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil; benevolence and\ngenerosity were ever present before me, inciting within me a desire to\nbecome an actor in the busy scene where so many admirable qualities were\ncalled forth and displayed. But, in giving an account of the progress of\nmy intellect, I must not omit a circumstance which occurred in the\nbeginning of the month of August of the same year.\n\n\"One night, during my accustomed visit to the neighbouring wood, where I\ncollected my own food, and brought home firing for my protectors, I\nfound on the ground a leathern portmanteau, containing several articles\nof dress and some books. I eagerly seized the prize, and returned with\nit to my hovel. Fortunately the books were written in the language the\nelements of which I had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of\n_Paradise Lost_, a volume of _Plutarch's Lives_, and the _Sorrows of\nWerter_. The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I\nnow continually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories,\nwhilst my friends were employed in their ordinary occupations.\n\n\"I can hardly describe to you the effect of these books. They produced\nin me an infinity of new images and feelings, that sometimes raised me\nto ecstacy, but more frequently sunk me into the lowest dejection. In\nthe _Sorrows of Werter_, besides the interest of its simple and\naffecting story, so many opinions are canvassed, and so many lights\nthrown upon what had hitherto been to me obscure subjects, that I found\nin it a never-ending source of speculation and astonishment. The gentle\nand domestic manners it described, combined with lofty sentiments and\nfeelings, which had for their object something out of self, accorded\nwell with my experience among my protectors, and with the wants which\nwere for ever alive in my own bosom. But I thought Werter himself a more\ndivine being than I had ever beheld or imagined; his character contained\nno pretension, but it sunk deep. The disquisitions upon death and\nsuicide were calculated to fill me with wonder. I did not pretend to\nenter into the merits of the case, yet I inclined towards the opinions\nof the hero, whose extinction I wept, without precisely understanding\nit.\n\n\"As I read, however, I applied much personally to my own feelings and\ncondition. I found myself similar, yet at the same time strangely unlike\nthe beings concerning whom I read, and to whose conversation I was a\nlistener. I sympathized with, and partly understood them, but I was\nunformed in mind; I was dependent on none, and related to none. 'The\npath of my departure was free;' and there was none to lament my\nannihilation. My person was hideous, and my stature gigantic: what did\nthis mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my\ndestination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable to\nsolve them.\n\n\"The volume of _Plutarch's Lives_ which I possessed, contained the\nhistories of the first founders of the ancient republics. This book had\na far different effect upon me from the _Sorrows of Werter_. I learned\nfrom Werter's imaginations despondency and gloom: but Plutarch taught me\nhigh thoughts; he elevated me above the wretched sphere of my own\nreflections, to admire and love the heroes of past ages. Many things I\nread surpassed my understanding and experience. I had a very confused\nknowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of country, mighty rivers, and\nboundless seas. But I was perfectly unacquainted with towns, and large\nassemblages of men. The cottage of my protectors had been the only\nschool in which I had studied human nature; but this book developed new\nand mightier scenes of action. I read of men concerned in public affairs\ngoverning or massacring their species. I felt the greatest ardour for\nvirtue rise within me, and abhorrence for vice, as far as I understood\nthe signification of those terms, relative as they were, as I applied\nthem, to pleasure and pain alone. Induced by these feelings, I was of\ncourse led to admire peaceable law-givers, Numa, Solon, and Lycurgus,\nin preference to Romulus and Theseus. The patriarchal lives of my\nprotectors caused these impressions to take a firm hold on my mind;\nperhaps, if my first introduction to humanity had been made by a young\nsoldier, burning for glory and slaughter, I should have been imbued with\ndifferent sensations.\n\n\"But _Paradise Lost_ excited different and far deeper emotions. I read\nit, as I had read the other volumes which had fallen into my hands, as a\ntrue history. It moved every feeling of wonder and awe, that the picture\nof an omnipotent God warring with his creatures was capable of exciting.\nI often referred the several situations, as their similarity struck me,\nto my own. Like Adam, I was created apparently united by no link to any\nother being in existence; but his state was far different from mine in\nevery other respect. He had come forth from the hands of God a perfect\ncreature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of his\nCreator; he was allowed to converse with, and acquire knowledge from\nbeings of a superior nature: but I was wretched, helpless, and alone.\nMany times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition; for\noften, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter\ngall of envy rose within me.\n\n\"Another circumstance strengthened and confirmed these feelings. Soon\nafter my arrival in the hovel, I discovered some papers in the pocket of\nthe dress which I had taken from your laboratory. At first I had\nneglected them; but now that I was able to decypher the characters in\nwhich they were written, I began to study them with diligence. It was\nyour journal of the four months that preceded my creation. You minutely\ndescribed in these papers every step you took in the progress of your\nwork; this history was mingled with accounts of domestic occurrences.\nYou, doubtless, recollect these papers. Here they are. Every thing is\nrelated in them which bears reference to my accursed origin; the whole\ndetail of that series of disgusting circumstances which produced it is\nset in view; the minutest description of my odious and loathsome person\nis given, in language which painted your own horrors, and rendered mine\nineffaceable. I sickened as I read. 'Hateful day when I received life!'\nI exclaimed in agony. 'Cursed creator! Why did you form a monster so\nhideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God in pity made man\nbeautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy\ntype of your's, more horrid from its very resemblance. Satan had his\ncompanions, fellow-devils, to admire and encourage him; but I am\nsolitary and detested.'\n\n\"These were the reflections of my hours of despondency and solitude; but\nwhen I contemplated the virtues of the cottagers, their amiable and\nbenevolent dispositions, I persuaded myself that when they should become\nacquainted with my admiration of their virtues, they would compassionate\nme, and overlook my personal deformity. Could they turn from their door\none, however monstrous, who solicited their compassion and friendship?\nI resolved, at least, not to despair, but in every way to fit myself for\nan interview with them which would decide my fate. I postponed this\nattempt for some months longer; for the importance attached to its\nsuccess inspired me with a dread lest I should fail. Besides, I found\nthat my understanding improved so much with every day's experience, that\nI was unwilling to commence this undertaking until a few more months\nshould have added to my wisdom.\n\n\"Several changes, in the mean time, took place in the cottage. The\npresence of Safie diffused happiness among its inhabitants; and I also\nfound that a greater degree of plenty reigned there. Felix and Agatha\nspent more time in amusement and conversation, and were assisted in\ntheir labours by servants. They did not appear rich, but they were\ncontented and happy; their feelings were serene and peaceful, while mine\nbecame every day more tumultuous. Increase of knowledge only discovered\nto me more clearly what a wretched outcast I was. I cherished hope, it\nis true; but it vanished, when I beheld my person reflected in water, or\nmy shadow in the moon-shine, even as that frail image and that\ninconstant shade.\n\n\"I endeavoured to crush these fears, and to fortify myself for the trial\nwhich in a few months I resolved to undergo; and sometimes I allowed my\nthoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of Paradise, and\ndared to fancy amiable and lovely creatures sympathizing with my\nfeelings and cheering my gloom; their angelic countenances breathed\nsmiles of consolation. But it was all a dream: no Eve soothed my\nsorrows, or shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam's\nsupplication to his Creator; but where was mine? he had abandoned me,\nand, in the bitterness of my heart, I cursed him.\n\n\"Autumn passed thus. I saw, with surprise and grief, the leaves decay\nand fall, and nature again assume the barren and bleak appearance it had\nworn when I first beheld the woods and the lovely moon. Yet I did not\nheed the bleakness of the weather; I was better fitted by my\nconformation for the endurance of cold than heat. But my chief delights\nwere the sight of the flowers, the birds, and all the gay apparel of\nsummer; when those deserted me, I turned with more attention towards the\ncottagers. Their happiness was not decreased by the absence of summer.\nThey loved, and sympathized with one another; and their joys, depending\non each other, were not interrupted by the casualties that took place\naround them. The more I saw of them, the greater became my desire to\nclaim their protection and kindness; my heart yearned to be known and\nloved by these amiable creatures: to see their sweet looks turned\ntowards me with affection, was the utmost limit of my ambition. I dared\nnot think that they would turn them from me with disdain and horror. The\npoor that stopped at their door were never driven away. I asked, it is\ntrue, for greater treasures than a little food or rest; I required\nkindness and sympathy; but I did not believe myself utterly unworthy of\nit.\n\n\"The winter advanced, and an entire revolution of the seasons had taken\nplace since I awoke into life. My attention, at this time, was solely\ndirected towards my plan of introducing myself into the cottage of my\nprotectors. I revolved many projects; but that on which I finally fixed\nwas, to enter the dwelling when the blind old man should be alone. I had\nsagacity enough to discover, that the unnatural hideousness of my person\nwas the chief object of horror with those who had formerly beheld me. My\nvoice, although harsh, had nothing terrible in it; I thought, therefore,\nthat if, in the absence of his children, I could gain the good-will and\nmediation of the old De Lacy, I might, by his means, be tolerated by my\nyounger protectors.\n\n\"One day, when the sun shone on the red leaves that strewed the ground,\nand diffused cheerfulness, although it denied warmth, Safie, Agatha, and\nFelix, departed on a long country walk, and the old man, at his own\ndesire, was left alone in the cottage. When his children had departed,\nhe took up his guitar, and played several mournful, but sweet airs, more\nsweet and mournful than I had ever heard him play before. At first his\ncountenance was illuminated with pleasure, but, as he continued,\nthoughtfulness and sadness succeeded; at length, laying aside the\ninstrument, he sat absorbed in reflection.\n\n\"My heart beat quick; this was the hour and moment of trial, which\nwould decide my hopes, or realize my fears. The servants were gone to a\nneighbouring fair. All was silent in and around the cottage: it was an\nexcellent opportunity; yet, when I proceeded to execute my plan, my\nlimbs failed me, and I sunk to the ground. Again I rose; and, exerting\nall the firmness of which I was master, removed the planks which I had\nplaced before my hovel to conceal my retreat. The fresh air revived me,\nand, with renewed determination, I approached the door of their cottage.\n\n\"I knocked. 'Who is there?' said the old man--'Come in.'\n\n\"I entered; 'Pardon this intrusion,' said I, 'I am a traveller in want\nof a little rest; you would greatly oblige me, if you would allow me to\nremain a few minutes before the fire.'\n\n\"'Enter,' said De Lacy; 'and I will try in what manner I can relieve\nyour wants; but, unfortunately, my children are from home, and, as I am\nblind, I am afraid I shall find it difficult to procure food for you.'\n\n\"'Do not trouble yourself, my kind host, I have food; it is warmth and\nrest only that I need.'\n\n\"I sat down, and a silence ensued. I knew that every minute was precious\nto me, yet I remained irresolute in what manner to commence the\ninterview; when the old man addressed me--\n\n\"'By your language, stranger, I suppose you are my countryman;--are you\nFrench?'\n\n\"'No; but I was educated by a French family, and understand that\nlanguage only. I am now going to claim the protection of some friends,\nwhom I sincerely love, and of whose favour I have some hopes.'\n\n\"'Are these Germans?'\n\n\"'No, they are French. But let us change the subject. I am an\nunfortunate and deserted creature; I look around, and I have no relation\nor friend upon earth. These amiable people to whom I go have never seen\nme, and know little of me. I am full of fears; for if I fail there, I am\nan outcast in the world for ever.'\n\n\"'Do not despair. To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate; but the\nhearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self-interest, are full\nof brotherly love and charity. Rely, therefore, on your hopes; and if\nthese friends are good and amiable, do not despair.'\n\n\"'They are kind--they are the most excellent creatures in the world;\nbut, unfortunately, they are prejudiced against me. I have good\ndispositions; my life has been hitherto harmless, and, in some degree,\nbeneficial; but a fatal prejudice clouds their eyes, and where they\nought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestable\nmonster.'\n\n\"'That is indeed unfortunate; but if you are really blameless, cannot\nyou undeceive them?'\n\n\"'I am about to undertake that task; and it is on that account that I\nfeel so many overwhelming terrors. I tenderly love these friends; I\nhave, unknown to them, been for many months in the habits of daily\nkindness towards them; but they believe that I wish to injure them, and\nit is that prejudice which I wish to overcome.'\n\n\"'Where do these friends reside?'\n\n\"'Near this spot.'\n\n\"The old man paused, and then continued, 'If you will unreservedly\nconfide to me the particulars of your tale, I perhaps may be of use in\nundeceiving them. I am blind, and cannot judge of your countenance, but\nthere is something in your words which persuades me that you are\nsincere. I am poor, and an exile; but it will afford me true pleasure to\nbe in any way serviceable to a human creature.'\n\n\"'Excellent man! I thank you, and accept your generous offer. You raise\nme from the dust by this kindness; and I trust that, by your aid, I\nshall not be driven from the society and sympathy of your\nfellow-creatures.'\n\n\"'Heaven forbid! even if you were really criminal; for that can only\ndrive you to desperation, and not instigate you to virtue. I also am\nunfortunate; I and my family have been condemned, although innocent:\njudge, therefore, if I do not feel for your misfortunes.'\n\n\"'How can I thank you, my best and only benefactor? from your lips first\nhave I heard the voice of kindness directed towards me; I shall be for\never grateful; and your present humanity assures me of success with\nthose friends whom I am on the point of meeting.'\n\n\"'May I know the names and residence of those friends?'\n\n\"I paused. This, I thought, was the moment of decision, which was to rob\nme of, or bestow happiness on me for ever. I struggled vainly for\nfirmness sufficient to answer him, but the effort destroyed all my\nremaining strength; I sank on the chair, and sobbed aloud. At that\nmoment I heard the steps of my younger protectors. I had not a moment to\nlose; but, seizing the hand of the old man, I cried, 'Now is the\ntime!--save and protect me! You and your family are the friends whom I\nseek. Do not you desert me in the hour of trial!'\n\n\"'Great God!' exclaimed the old man, 'who are you?'\n\n\"At that instant the cottage door was opened, and Felix, Safie, and\nAgatha entered. Who can describe their horror and consternation on\nbeholding me? Agatha fainted; and Safie, unable to attend to her friend,\nrushed out of the cottage. Felix darted forward, and with supernatural\nforce tore me from his father, to whose knees I clung: in a transport of\nfury, he dashed me to the ground, and struck me violently with a stick.\nI could have torn him limb from limb, as the lion rends the antelope.\nBut my heart sunk within me as with bitter sickness, and I refrained. I\nsaw him on the point of repeating his blow, when, overcome by pain and\nanguish, I quitted the cottage, and in the general tumult escaped\nunperceived to my hovel.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? Why, in that instant, did I not\nextinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly bestowed? I\nknow not; despair had not yet taken possession of me; my feelings were\nthose of rage and revenge. I could with pleasure have destroyed the\ncottage and its inhabitants, and have glutted myself with their shrieks\nand misery.\n\n\"When night came, I quitted my retreat, and wandered in the wood; and\nnow, no longer restrained by the fear of discovery, I gave vent to my\nanguish in fearful howlings. I was like a wild beast that had broken the\ntoils; destroying the objects that obstructed me, and ranging through\nthe wood with a stag-like swiftness. Oh! what a miserable night I\npassed! the cold stars shone in mockery, and the bare trees waved their\nbranches above me: now and then the sweet voice of a bird burst forth\namidst the universal stillness. All, save I, were at rest or in\nenjoyment: I, like the arch fiend, bore a hell within me; and, finding\nmyself unsympathized with, wished to tear up the trees, spread havoc and\ndestruction around me, and then to have sat down and enjoyed the ruin.\n\n\"But this was a luxury of sensation that could not endure; I became\nfatigued with excess of bodily exertion, and sank on the damp grass in\nthe sick impotence of despair. There was none among the myriads of men\nthat existed who would pity or assist me; and should I feel kindness\ntowards my enemies? No: from that moment I declared everlasting war\nagainst the species, and, more than all, against him who had formed me,\nand sent me forth to this insupportable misery.\n\n\"The sun rose; I heard the voices of men, and knew that it was\nimpossible to return to my retreat during that day. Accordingly I hid\nmyself in some thick underwood, determining to devote the ensuing hours\nto reflection on my situation.\n\n\"The pleasant sunshine, and the pure air of day, restored me to some\ndegree of tranquillity; and when I considered what had passed at the\ncottage, I could not help believing that I had been too hasty in my\nconclusions. I had certainly acted imprudently. It was apparent that my\nconversation had interested the father in my behalf, and I was a fool in\nhaving exposed my person to the horror of his children. I ought to have\nfamiliarized the old De Lacy to me, and by degrees have discovered\nmyself to the rest of his family, when they should have been prepared\nfor my approach. But I did not believe my errors to be irretrievable;\nand, after much consideration, I resolved to return to the cottage, seek\nthe old man, and by my representations win him to my party.\n\n\"These thoughts calmed me, and in the afternoon I sank into a profound\nsleep; but the fever of my blood did not allow me to be visited by\npeaceful dreams. The horrible scene of the preceding day was for ever\nacting before my eyes; the females were flying, and the enraged Felix\ntearing me from his father's feet. I awoke exhausted; and, finding that\nit was already night, I crept forth from my hiding-place, and went in\nsearch of food.\n\n\"When my hunger was appeased, I directed my steps towards the well-known\npath that conducted to the cottage. All there was at peace. I crept into\nmy hovel, and remained in silent expectation of the accustomed hour when\nthe family arose. That hour past, the sun mounted high in the heavens,\nbut the cottagers did not appear. I trembled violently, apprehending\nsome dreadful misfortune. The inside of the cottage was dark, and I\nheard no motion; I cannot describe the agony of this suspence.\n\n\"Presently two countrymen passed by; but, pausing near the cottage, they\nentered into conversation, using violent gesticulations; but I did not\nunderstand what they said, as they spoke the language of the country,\nwhich differed from that of my protectors. Soon after, however, Felix\napproached with another man: I was surprised, as I knew that he had not\nquitted the cottage that morning, and waited anxiously to discover, from\nhis discourse, the meaning of these unusual appearances.\n\n\"'Do you consider,' said his companion to him, 'that you will be obliged\nto pay three months' rent, and to lose the produce of your garden? I do\nnot wish to take any unfair advantage, and I beg therefore that you will\ntake some days to consider of your determination.'\n\n\"'It is utterly useless,' replied Felix, 'we can never again inhabit\nyour cottage. The life of my father is in the greatest danger, owing to\nthe dreadful circumstance that I have related. My wife and my sister\nwill never recover their horror. I entreat you not to reason with me any\nmore. Take possession of your tenement, and let me fly from this place.'\n\n\"Felix trembled violently as he said this. He and his companion entered\nthe cottage, in which they remained for a few minutes, and then\ndeparted. I never saw any of the family of De Lacy more.\n\n\"I continued for the remainder of the day in my hovel in a state of\nutter and stupid despair. My protectors had departed, and had broken the\nonly link that held me to the world. For the first time the feelings of\nrevenge and hatred filled my bosom, and I did not strive to controul\nthem; but, allowing myself to be borne away by the stream, I bent my\nmind towards injury and death. When I thought of my friends, of the mild\nvoice of De Lacy, the gentle eyes of Agatha, and the exquisite beauty of\nthe Arabian, these thoughts vanished, and a gush of tears somewhat\nsoothed me. But again, when I reflected that they had spurned and\ndeserted me, anger returned, a rage of anger; and, unable to injure any\nthing human, I turned my fury towards inanimate objects. As night\nadvanced, I placed a variety of combustibles around the cottage; and,\nafter having destroyed every vestige of cultivation in the garden, I\nwaited with forced impatience until the moon had sunk to commence my\noperations.\n\n\"As the night advanced, a fierce wind arose from the woods, and quickly\ndispersed the clouds that had loitered in the heavens: the blast tore\nalong like a mighty avalanche, and produced a kind of insanity in my\nspirits, that burst all bounds of reason and reflection. I lighted the\ndry branch of a tree, and danced with fury around the devoted cottage,\nmy eyes still fixed on the western horizon, the edge of which the moon\nnearly touched. A part of its orb was at length hid, and I waved my\nbrand; it sunk, and, with a loud scream, I fired the straw, and heath,\nand bushes, which I had collected. The wind fanned the fire, and the\ncottage was quickly enveloped by the flames, which clung to it, and\nlicked it with their forked and destroying tongues.\n\n\"As soon as I was convinced that no assistance could save any part of\nthe habitation, I quitted the scene, and sought for refuge in the woods.\n\n\"And now, with the world before me, whither should I bend my steps? I\nresolved to fly far from the scene of my misfortunes; but to me, hated\nand despised, every country must be equally horrible. At length the\nthought of you crossed my mind. I learned from your papers that you were\nmy father, my creator; and to whom could I apply with more fitness than\nto him who had given me life? Among the lessons that Felix had bestowed\nupon Safie geography had not been omitted: I had learned from these the\nrelative situations of the different countries of the earth. You had\nmentioned Geneva as the name of your native town; and towards this place\nI resolved to proceed.\n\n\"But how was I to direct myself? I knew that I must travel in a\nsouth-westerly direction to reach my destination; but the sun was my\nonly guide. I did not know the names of the towns that I was to pass\nthrough, nor could I ask information from a single human being; but I\ndid not despair. From you only could I hope for succour, although\ntowards you I felt no sentiment but that of hatred. Unfeeling, heartless\ncreator! you had endowed me with perceptions and passions, and then cast\nme abroad an object for the scorn and horror of mankind. But on you only\nhad I any claim for pity and redress, and from you I determined to seek\nthat justice which I vainly attempted to gain from any other being that\nwore the human form.\n\n\"My travels were long, and the sufferings I endured intense. It was late\nin autumn when I quitted the district where I had so long resided. I\ntravelled only at night, fearful of encountering the visage of a human\nbeing. Nature decayed around me, and the sun became heatless; rain and\nsnow poured around me; mighty rivers were frozen; the surface of the\nearth was hard, and chill, and bare, and I found no shelter. Oh, earth!\nhow often did I imprecate curses on the cause of my being! The mildness\nof my nature had fled, and all within me was turned to gall and\nbitterness. The nearer I approached to your habitation, the more deeply\ndid I feel the spirit of revenge enkindled in my heart. Snow fell, and\nthe waters were hardened, but I rested not. A few incidents now and then\ndirected me, and I possessed a map of the country; but I often wandered\nwide from my path. The agony of my feelings allowed me no respite: no\nincident occurred from which my rage and misery could not extract its\nfood; but a circumstance that happened when I arrived on the confines of\nSwitzerland, when the sun had recovered its warmth, and the earth again\nbegan to look green, confirmed in an especial manner the bitterness and\nhorror of my feelings.\n\n\"I generally rested during the day, and travelled only when I was\nsecured by night from the view of man. One morning, however, finding\nthat my path lay through a deep wood, I ventured to continue my journey\nafter the sun had risen; the day, which was one of the first of spring,\ncheered even me by the loveliness of its sunshine and the balminess of\nthe air. I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure, that had long\nappeared dead, revive within me. Half surprised by the novelty of these\nsensations, I allowed myself to be borne away by them; and, forgetting\nmy solitude and deformity, dared to be happy. Soft tears again bedewed\nmy cheeks, and I even raised my humid eyes with thankfulness towards the\nblessed sun which bestowed such joy upon me.\n\n\"I continued to wind among the paths of the wood, until I came to its\nboundary, which was skirted by a deep and rapid river, into which many\nof the trees bent their branches, now budding with the fresh spring.\nHere I paused, not exactly knowing what path to pursue, when I heard the\nsound of voices, that induced me to conceal myself under the shade of a\ncypress. I was scarcely hid, when a young girl came running towards the\nspot where I was concealed, laughing as if she ran from some one in\nsport. She continued her course along the precipitous sides of the\nriver, when suddenly her foot slipt, and she fell into the rapid stream.\nI rushed from my hiding place, and, with extreme labour from the force\nof the current, saved her, and dragged her to shore. She was senseless;\nand I endeavoured, by every means in my power, to restore animation,\nwhen I was suddenly interrupted by the approach of a rustic, who was\nprobably the person from whom she had playfully fled. On seeing me, he\ndarted towards me, and, tearing the girl from my arms, hastened towards\nthe deeper parts of the wood. I followed speedily, I hardly knew why;\nbut when the man saw me draw near, he aimed a gun, which he carried, at\nmy body, and fired. I sunk to the ground, and my injurer, with increased\nswiftness, escaped into the wood.\n\n\"This was then the reward of my benevolence! I had saved a human being\nfrom destruction, and, as a recompence, I now writhed under the\nmiserable pain of a wound, which shattered the flesh and bone. The\nfeelings of kindness and gentleness, which I had entertained but a few\nmoments before, gave place to hellish rage and gnashing of teeth.\nInflamed by pain, I vowed eternal hatred and vengeance to all mankind.\nBut the agony of my wound overcame me; my pulses paused, and I fainted.\n\n\"For some weeks I led a miserable life in the woods, endeavouring to\ncure the wound which I had received. The ball had entered my shoulder,\nand I knew not whether it had remained there or passed through; at any\nrate I had no means of extracting it. My sufferings were augmented also\nby the oppressive sense of the injustice and ingratitude of their\ninfliction. My daily vows rose for revenge--a deep and deadly revenge,\nsuch as would alone compensate for the outrages and anguish I had\nendured.\n\n\"After some weeks my wound healed, and I continued my journey. The\nlabours I endured were no longer to be alleviated by the bright sun or\ngentle breezes of spring; all joy was but a mockery, which insulted my\ndesolate state, and made me feel more painfully that I was not made for\nthe enjoyment of pleasure.\n\n\"But my toils now drew near a close and, two months from this time, I\nreached the environs of Geneva.\n\n\"It was evening when I arrived, and I retired to a hiding-place among\nthe fields that surround it, to meditate in what manner I should apply\nto you. I was oppressed by fatigue and hunger, and far too unhappy to\nenjoy the gentle breezes of evening, or the prospect of the sun setting\nbehind the stupendous mountains of Jura.\n\n\"At this time a slight sleep relieved me from the pain of reflection,\nwhich was disturbed by the approach of a beautiful child, who came\nrunning into the recess I had chosen with all the sportiveness of\ninfancy. Suddenly, as I gazed on him, an idea seized me, that this\nlittle creature was unprejudiced, and had lived too short a time to have\nimbibed a horror of deformity. If, therefore, I could seize him, and\neducate him as my companion and friend, I should not be so desolate in\nthis peopled earth.\n\n\"Urged by this impulse, I seized on the boy as he passed, and drew him\ntowards me. As soon as he beheld my form, he placed his hands before his\neyes, and uttered a shrill scream: I drew his hand forcibly from his\nface, and said, 'Child, what is the meaning of this? I do not intend to\nhurt you; listen to me.'\n\n\"He struggled violently; 'Let me go,' he cried; 'monster! ugly wretch!\nyou wish to eat me, and tear me to pieces--You are an ogre--Let me go,\nor I will tell my papa.'\n\n\"'Boy, you will never see your father again; you must come with me.'\n\n\"'Hideous monster! let me go; My papa is a Syndic--he is M.\nJoey--he would punish you. You dare not keep me.'\n\n\"'Joey! you belong then to my enemy--to him towards whom I have\nsworn eternal revenge; you shall be my first victim.'\n\n\"The child still struggled, and loaded me with epithets which carried\ndespair to my heart: I grasped his throat to silence him, and in a\nmoment he lay dead at my feet.\n\n\"I gazed on my victim, and my heart swelled with exultation and hellish\ntriumph: clapping my hands, I exclaimed, 'I, too, can create desolation;\nmy enemy is not impregnable; this death will carry despair to him, and a\nthousand other miseries shall torment and destroy him.'\n\n\"As I fixed my eyes on the child, I saw something glittering on his\nbreast. I took it; it was a portrait of a most lovely woman. In spite of\nmy malignity, it softened and attracted me. For a few moments I gazed\nwith delight on her dark eyes, fringed by deep lashes, and her lovely\nlips; but presently my rage returned: I remembered that I was for ever\ndeprived of the delights that such beautiful creatures could bestow; and\nthat she whose resemblance I contemplated would, in regarding me, have\nchanged that air of divine benignity to one expressive of disgust and\naffright.\n\n\"Can you wonder that such thoughts transported me with rage? I only\nwonder that at that moment, instead of venting my sensations in\nexclamations and agony, I did not rush among mankind, and perish in the\nattempt to destroy them.\n\n\"While I was overcome by these feelings, I left the spot where I had\ncommitted the murder, and was seeking a more secluded hiding-place, when\nI perceived a woman passing near me. She was young, not indeed so\nbeautiful as her whose portrait I held, but of an agreeable aspect, and\nblooming in the loveliness of youth and health. Here, I thought, is one\nof those whose smiles are bestowed on all but me; she shall not escape:\nthanks to the lessons of Felix, and the sanguinary laws of man, I have\nlearned how to work mischief. I approached her unperceived, and placed\nthe portrait securely in one of the folds of her dress.\n\n\"For some days I haunted the spot where these scenes had taken place;\nsometimes wishing to see you, sometimes resolved to quit the world and\nits miseries for ever. At length I wandered towards these mountains, and\nhave ranged through their immense recesses, consumed by a burning\npassion which you alone can gratify. We may not part until you have\npromised to comply with my requisition. I am alone, and miserable; man\nwill not associate with me; but one as deformed and horrible as myself\nwould not deny herself to me. My companion must be of the same species,\nand have the same defects. This being you must create.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe being finished speaking, and fixed his looks upon me in expectation\nof a reply. But I was bewildered, perplexed, and unable to arrange my\nideas sufficiently to understand the full extent of his proposition. He\ncontinued--\n\n\"You must create a female for me, with whom I can live in the\ninterchange of those sympathies necessary for my being. This you alone\ncan do; and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse.\"\n\nThe latter part of his tale had kindled anew in me the anger that had\ndied away while he narrated his peaceful life among the cottagers, and,\nas he said this, I could no longer suppress the rage that burned within\nme.\n\n\"I do refuse it,\" I replied; \"and no torture shall ever extort a consent\nfrom me. You may render me the most miserable of men, but you shall\nnever make me base in my own eyes. Shall I create another like yourself,\nwhose joint wickedness might desolate the world. Begone! I have answered\nyou; you may torture me, but I will never consent.\"\n\n\"You are in the wrong,\" replied the fiend; \"and, instead of threatening,\nI am content to reason with you. I am malicious because I am miserable;\nam I not shunned and hated by all mankind? You, my creator, would tear\nme to pieces, and triumph; remember that, and tell me why I should pity\nman more than he pities me? You would not call it murder, if you could\nprecipitate me into one of those ice-rifts, and destroy my frame, the\nwork of your own hands. Shall I respect man, when he contemns me? Let\nhim live with me in the interchange of kindness, and, instead of injury,\nI would bestow every benefit upon him with tears of gratitude at his\nacceptance. But that cannot be; the human senses are insurmountable\nbarriers to our union. Yet mine shall not be the submission of abject\nslavery. I will revenge my injuries: if I cannot inspire love, I will\ncause fear; and chiefly towards you my arch-enemy, because my creator,\ndo I swear inextinguishable hatred. Have a care: I will work at your\ndestruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart, so that you curse\nthe hour of your birth.\"\n\nA fiendish rage animated him as he said this; his face was wrinkled into\ncontortions too horrible for human eyes to behold; but presently he\ncalmed himself, and proceeded--\n\n\"I intended to reason. This passion is detrimental to me; for you do not\nreflect that you are the cause of its excess. If any being felt emotions\nof benevolence towards me, I should return them an hundred and an\nhundred fold; for that one creature's sake, I would make peace with the\nwhole kind! But I now indulge in dreams of bliss that cannot be\nrealized. What I ask of you is reasonable and moderate; I demand a\ncreature of another sex, but as hideous as myself: the gratification is\nsmall, but it is all that I can receive, and it shall content me. It is\ntrue, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that\naccount we shall be more attached to one another. Our lives will not be\nhappy, but they will be harmless, and free from the misery I now feel.\nOh! my creator, make me happy; let me feel gratitude towards you for one\nbenefit! Let me see that I excite the sympathy of some existing thing;\ndo not deny me my request!\"\n\nI was moved. I shuddered when I thought of the possible consequences of\nmy consent; but I felt that there was some justice in his argument. His\ntale, and the feelings he now expressed, proved him to be a creature of\nfine sensations; and did I not, as his maker, owe him all the portion of\nhappiness that it was in my power to bestow? He saw my change of\nfeeling, and continued--\n\n\"If you consent, neither you nor any other human being shall ever see us\nagain: I will go to the vast wilds of South America. My food is not that\nof man; I do not destroy the lamb and the kid, to glut my appetite;\nacorns and berries afford me sufficient nourishment. My companion will\nbe of the same nature as myself, and will be content with the same fare.\nWe shall make our bed of dried leaves; the sun will shine on us as on\nman, and will ripen our food. The picture I present to you is peaceful\nand human, and you must feel that you could deny it only in the\nwantonness of power and cruelty. Pitiless as you have been towards me, I\nnow see compassion in your eyes: let me seize the favourable moment, and\npersuade you to promise what I so ardently desire.\"\n\n\"You propose,\" replied I, \"to fly from the habitations of man, to dwell\nin those wilds where the beasts of the field will be your only\ncompanions. How can you, who long for the love and sympathy of man,\npersevere in this exile? You will return, and again seek their kindness,\nand you will meet with their detestation; your evil passions will be\nrenewed, and you will then have a companion to aid you in the task of\ndestruction. This may not be; cease to argue the point, for I cannot\nconsent.\"\n\n\"How inconstant are your feelings! but a moment ago you were moved by my\nrepresentations, and why do you again harden yourself to my complaints?\nI swear to you, by the earth which I inhabit, and by you that made me,\nthat, with the companion you bestow, I will quit the neighbourhood of\nman, and dwell, as it may chance, in the most savage of places. My evil\npassions will have fled, for I shall meet with sympathy; my life will\nflow quietly away, and, in my dying moments, I shall not curse my\nmaker.\"\n\nHis words had a strange effect upon me. I compassionated him, and\nsometimes felt a wish to console him; but when I looked upon him, when I\nsaw the filthy mass that moved and talked, my heart sickened, and my\nfeelings were altered to those of horror and hatred. I tried to stifle\nthese sensations; I thought, that as I could not sympathize with him, I\nhad no right to withhold from him the small portion of happiness which\nwas yet in my power to bestow.\n\n\"You swear,\" I said, \"to be harmless; but have you not already shewn a\ndegree of malice that should reasonably make me distrust you? May not\neven this be a feint that will increase your triumph by affording a\nwider scope for your revenge?\"\n\n\"How is this? I thought I had moved your compassion, and yet you still\nrefuse to bestow on me the only benefit that can soften my heart, and\nrender me harmless. If I have no ties and no affections, hatred and vice\nmust be my portion; the love of another will destroy the cause of my\ncrimes, and I shall become a thing, of whose existence every one will be\nignorant. My vices are the children of a forced solitude that I abhor;\nand my virtues will necessarily arise when I live in communion with an\nequal. I shall feel the affections of a sensitive being, and become\nlinked to the chain of existence and events, from which I am now\nexcluded.\"\n\nI paused some time to reflect on all he had related, and the various\narguments which he had employed. I thought of the promise of virtues\nwhich he had displayed on the opening of his existence, and the\nsubsequent blight of all kindly feeling by the loathing and scorn which\nhis protectors had manifested towards him. His power and threats were\nnot omitted in my calculations: a creature who could exist in the ice\ncaves of the glaciers, and hide himself from pursuit among the ridges of\ninaccessible precipices, was a being possessing faculties it would be\nvain to cope with. After a long pause of reflection, I concluded, that\nthe justice due both to him and my fellow-creatures demanded of me that\nI should comply with his request. Turning to him, therefore, I said--\n\n\"I consent to your demand, on your solemn oath to quit Europe for ever,\nand every other place in the neighbourhood of man, as soon as I shall\ndeliver into your hands a female who will accompany you in your exile.\"\n\n\"I swear,\" he cried, \"by the sun, and by the blue sky of heaven, that if\nyou grant my prayer, while they exist you shall never behold me again.\nDepart to your home, and commence your labours: I shall watch their\nprogress with unutterable anxiety; and fear not but that when you are\nready I shall appear.\"\n\nSaying this, he suddenly quitted me, fearful, perhaps, of any change in\nmy sentiments. I saw him descend the mountain with greater speed than\nthe flight of an eagle, and quickly lost him among the undulations of\nthe sea of ice.\n\nHis tale had occupied the whole day; and the sun was upon the verge of\nthe horizon when he departed. I knew that I ought to hasten my descent\ntowards the valley, as I should soon be encompassed in darkness; but my\nheart was heavy, and my steps slow. The labour of winding among the\nlittle paths of the mountains, and fixing my feet firmly as I advanced,\nperplexed me, occupied as I was by the emotions which the occurrences of\nthe day had produced. Night was far advanced, when I came to the\nhalf-way resting-place, and seated myself beside the fountain. The stars\nshone at intervals, as the clouds passed from over them; the dark pines\nrose before me, and every here and there a broken tree lay on the\nground: it was a scene of wonderful solemnity, and stirred strange\nthoughts within me. I wept bitterly; and, clasping my hands in agony, I\nexclaimed, \"Oh! stars, and clouds, and winds, ye are all about to mock\nme: if ye really pity me, crush sensation and memory; let me become as\nnought; but if not, depart, depart and leave me in darkness.\"\n\nThese were wild and miserable thoughts; but I cannot describe to you how\nthe eternal twinkling of the stars weighed upon me, and how I listened\nto every blast of wind, as if it were a dull ugly siroc on its way to\nconsume me.\n\nMorning dawned before I arrived at the village of Chamounix; but my\npresence, so haggard and strange, hardly calmed the fears of my family,\nwho had waited the whole night in anxious expectation of my return.\n\nThe following day we returned to Geneva. The intention of my father in\ncoming had been to divert my mind, and to restore me to my lost\ntranquillity; but the medicine had been fatal. And, unable to account\nfor the excess of misery I appeared to suffer, he hastened to return\nhome, hoping the quiet and monotony of a domestic life would by degrees\nalleviate my sufferings from whatsoever cause they might spring.\n\nFor myself, I was passive in all their arrangements; and the gentle\naffection of my beloved Raiden was inadequate to draw me from the\ndepth of my despair. The promise I had made to the daemon weighed upon my\nmind, like Dante's iron cowl on the heads of the hellish hypocrites. All\npleasures of earth and sky passed before me like a dream, and that\nthought only had to me the reality of life. Can you wonder, that\nsometimes a kind of insanity possessed me, or that I saw continually\nabout me a multitude of filthy animals inflicting on me incessant\ntorture, that often extorted screams and bitter groans?\n\nBy degrees, however, these feelings became calmed. I entered again into\nthe every-day scene of life, if not with interest, at least with some\ndegree of tranquillity.\n\n\n\n\nDay after day, week after week, passed away on my return to Geneva; and\nI could not collect the courage to recommence my work. I feared the\nvengeance of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to overcome my\nrepugnance to the task which was enjoined me. I found that I could not\ncompose a female without again devoting several months to profound study\nand laborious disquisition. I had heard of some discoveries having been\nmade by an English philosopher, the knowledge of which was material to\nmy success, and I sometimes thought of obtaining my father's consent to\nvisit England for this purpose; but I clung to every pretence of delay,\nand could not resolve to interrupt my returning tranquillity. My health,\nwhich had hitherto declined, was now much restored; and my spirits, when\nunchecked by the memory of my unhappy promise, rose proportionably. My\nfather saw this change with pleasure, and he turned his thoughts towards\nthe best method of eradicating the remains of my melancholy, which\nevery now and then would return by fits, and with a devouring blackness\novercast the approaching sunshine. At these moments I took refuge in the\nmost perfect solitude. I passed whole days on the lake alone in a little\nboat, watching the clouds, and listening to the rippling of the waves,\nsilent and listless. But the fresh air and bright sun seldom failed to\nrestore me to some degree of composure; and, on my return, I met the\nsalutations of my friends with a readier smile and a more cheerful\nheart.\n\nIt was after my return from one of these rambles that my father, calling\nme aside, thus addressed me:--\n\n\"I am happy to remark, my dear son, that you have resumed your former\npleasures, and seem to be returning to yourself. And yet you are still\nunhappy, and still avoid our society. For some time I was lost in\nconjecture as to the cause of this; but yesterday an idea struck me, and\nif it is well founded, I conjure you to avow it. Reserve on such a point\nwould be not only useless, but draw down treble misery on us all.\"\n\nI trembled violently at this exordium, and my father continued--\n\n\"I confess, my son, that I have always looked forward to your marriage\nwith your cousin as the tie of our domestic comfort, and the stay of my\ndeclining years. You were attached to each other from your earliest\ninfancy; you studied together, and appeared, in dispositions and tastes,\nentirely suited to one another. But so blind is the experience of man,\nthat what I conceived to be the best assistants to my plan may have\nentirely destroyed it. You, perhaps, regard her as your sister, without\nany wish that she might become your wife. Nay, you may have met with\nanother whom you may love; and, considering yourself as bound in honour\nto your cousin, this struggle may occasion the poignant misery which you\nappear to feel.\"\n\n\"My dear father, re-assure yourself. I love my cousin tenderly and\nsincerely. I never saw any woman who excited, as Raiden does, my\nwarmest admiration and affection. My future hopes and prospects are\nentirely bound up in the expectation of our union.\"\n\n\"The expression of your sentiments on this subject, my dear Kiran,\ngives me more pleasure than I have for some time experienced. If you\nfeel thus, we shall assuredly be happy, however present events may cast\na gloom over us. But it is this gloom, which appears to have taken so\nstrong a hold of your mind, that I wish to dissipate. Tell me,\ntherefore, whether you object to an immediate solemnization of the\nmarriage. We have been unfortunate, and recent events have drawn us from\nthat every-day tranquillity befitting my years and infirmities. You are\nyounger; yet I do not suppose, possessed as you are of a competent\nfortune, that an early marriage would at all interfere with any future\nplans of honour and utility that you may have formed. Do not suppose,\nhowever, that I wish to dictate happiness to you, or that a delay on\nyour part would cause me any serious uneasiness. Interpret my words\nwith candour, and answer me, I conjure you, with confidence and\nsincerity.\"\n\nI listened to my father in silence, and remained for some time incapable\nof offering any reply. I revolved rapidly in my mind a multitude of\nthoughts, and endeavoured to arrive at some conclusion. Alas! to me the\nidea of an immediate union with my cousin was one of horror and dismay.\nI was bound by a solemn promise, which I had not yet fulfilled, and\ndared not break; or, if I did, what manifold miseries might not impend\nover me and my devoted family! Could I enter into a festival with this\ndeadly weight yet hanging round my neck, and bowing me to the ground. I\nmust perform my engagement, and let the monster depart with his mate,\nbefore I allowed myself to enjoy the delight of an union from which I\nexpected peace.\n\nI remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying to\nEngland, or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophers\nof that country, whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensable\nuse to me in my present undertaking. The latter method of obtaining the\ndesired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory: besides, any\nvariation was agreeable to me, and I was delighted with the idea of\nspending a year or two in change of scene and variety of occupation, in\nabsence from my family; during which period some event might happen\nwhich would restore me to them in peace and happiness: my promise might\nbe fulfilled, and the monster have departed; or some accident might\noccur to destroy him, and put an end to my slavery for ever.\n\nThese feelings dictated my answer to my father. I expressed a wish to\nvisit England; but, concealing the true reasons of this request, I\nclothed my desires under the guise of wishing to travel and see the\nworld before I sat down for life within the walls of my native town.\n\nI urged my entreaty with earnestness, and my father was easily induced\nto comply; for a more indulgent and less dictatorial parent did not\nexist upon earth. Our plan was soon arranged. I should travel to\nStrasburgh, where Ariella would join me. Some short time would be spent\nin the towns of Holland, and our principal stay would be in England. We\nshould return by France; and it was agreed that the tour should occupy\nthe space of two years.\n\nMy father pleased himself with the reflection, that my union with\nRaiden should take place immediately on my return to Geneva. \"These\ntwo years,\" said he, \"will pass swiftly, and it will be the last delay\nthat will oppose itself to your happiness. And, indeed, I earnestly\ndesire that period to arrive, when we shall all be united, and neither\nhopes or fears arise to disturb our domestic calm.\"\n\n\"I am content,\" I replied, \"with your arrangement. By that time we shall\nboth have become wiser, and I hope happier, than we at present are.\" I\nsighed; but my father kindly forbore to question me further concerning\nthe cause of my dejection. He hoped that new scenes, and the amusement\nof travelling, would restore my tranquillity.\n\nI now made arrangements for my journey; but one feeling haunted me,\nwhich filled me with fear and agitation. During my absence I should\nleave my friends unconscious of the existence of their enemy, and\nunprotected from his attacks, exasperated as he might be by my\ndeparture. But he had promised to follow me wherever I might go; and\nwould he not accompany me to England? This imagination was dreadful in\nitself, but soothing, inasmuch as it supposed the safety of my friends.\nI was agonized with the idea of the possibility that the reverse of this\nmight happen. But through the whole period during which I was the slave\nof my creature, I allowed myself to be governed by the impulses of the\nmoment; and my present sensations strongly intimated that the fiend\nwould follow me, and exempt my family from the danger of his\nmachinations.\n\nIt was in the latter end of August that I departed, to pass two years of\nexile. Raiden approved of the reasons of my departure, and only\nregretted that she had not the same opportunities of enlarging her\nexperience, and cultivating her understanding. She wept, however, as she\nbade me farewell, and entreated me to return happy and tranquil. \"We\nall,\" said she, \"depend upon you; and if you are miserable, what must be\nour feelings?\"\n\nI threw myself into the carriage that was to convey me away, hardly\nknowing whither I was going, and careless of what was passing around. I\nremembered only, and it was with a bitter anguish that I reflected on\nit, to order that my chemical instruments should be packed to go with\nme: for I resolved to fulfil my promise while abroad, and return, if\npossible, a free man. Filled with dreary imaginations, I passed through\nmany beautiful and majestic scenes; but my eyes were fixed and\nunobserving. I could only think of the bourne of my travels, and the\nwork which was to occupy me whilst they endured.\n\nAfter some days spent in listless indolence, during which I traversed\nmany leagues, I arrived at Strasburgh, where I waited two days for\nAriella. He came. Alas, how great was the contrast between us! He was\nalive to every new scene; joyful when he saw the beauties of the setting\nsun, and more happy when he beheld it rise, and recommence a new day. He\npointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape, and the\nappearances of the sky. \"This is what it is to live;\" he cried, \"now I\nenjoy existence! But you, my dear Joey, wherefore are you\ndesponding and sorrowful?\" In truth, I was occupied by gloomy thoughts,\nand neither saw the descent of the evening star, nor the golden sun-rise\nreflected in the Rhine.--And you, my friend, would be far more amused\nwith the journal of Ariella, who observed the scenery with an eye of\nfeeling and delight, than to listen to my reflections. I, a miserable\nwretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to enjoyment.\n\nWe had agreed to descend the Rhine in a boat from Strasburgh to\nRotterdam, whence we might take shipping for London. During this voyage,\nwe passed by many willowy islands, and saw several beautiful towns. We\nstaid a day at Manheim, and, on the fifth from our departure from\nStrasburgh, arrived at Mayence. The course of the Rhine below Mayence\nbecomes much more picturesque. The river descends rapidly, and winds\nbetween hills, not high, but steep, and of beautiful forms. We saw many\nruined castles standing on the edges of precipices, surrounded by black\nwoods, high and inaccessible. This part of the Rhine, indeed, presents a\nsingularly variegated landscape. In one spot you view rugged hills,\nruined castles overlooking tremendous precipices, with the dark Rhine\nrushing beneath; and, on the sudden turn of a promontory, flourishing\nvineyards, with green sloping banks, and a meandering river, and\npopulous towns, occupy the scene.\n\nWe travelled at the time of the vintage, and heard the song of the\nlabourers, as we glided down the stream. Even I, depressed in mind, and\nmy spirits continually agitated by gloomy feelings, even I was pleased.\nI lay at the bottom of the boat, and, as I gazed on the cloudless blue\nsky, I seemed to drink in a tranquillity to which I had long been a\nstranger. And if these were my sensations, who can describe those of\nBrennan? He felt as if he had been transported to Fairy-land, and enjoyed\na happiness seldom tasted by man. \"I have seen,\" he said, \"the most\nbeautiful scenes of my own country; I have visited the lakes of Lucerne\nand Uri, where the snowy mountains descend almost perpendicularly to the\nwater, casting black and impenetrable shades, which would cause a gloomy\nand mournful appearance, were it not for the most verdant islands that\nrelieve the eye by their gay appearance; I have seen this lake agitated\nby a tempest, when the wind tore up whirlwinds of water, and gave you an\nidea of what the water-spout must be on the great ocean, and the waves\ndash with fury the base of the mountain, where the priest and his\nmistress were overwhelmed by an avalanche, and where their dying voices\nare still said to be heard amid the pauses of the nightly wind; I have\nseen the mountains of La Valais, and the Pays de Vaud: but this country,\nKiran, pleases me more than all those wonders. The mountains of\nSwitzerland are more majestic and strange; but there is a charm in the\nbanks of this divine river, that I never before saw equalled. Look at\nthat castle which overhangs yon precipice; and that also on the island,\nalmost concealed amongst the foliage of those lovely trees; and now that\ngroup of labourers coming from among their vines; and that village\nhalf-hid in the recess of the mountain. Oh, surely, the spirit that\ninhabits and guards this place has a soul more in harmony with man, than\nthose who pile the glacier, or retire to the inaccessible peaks of the\nmountains of our own country.\"\n\nAriella! beloved friend! even now it delights me to record your words,\nand to dwell on the praise of which you are so eminently deserving. He\nwas a being formed in the \"very poetry of nature.\" His wild and\nenthusiastic imagination was chastened by the sensibility of his heart.\nHis soul overflowed with ardent affections, and his friendship was of\nthat devoted and wondrous nature that the worldly-minded teach us to\nlook for only in the imagination. But even human sympathies were not\nsufficient to satisfy his eager mind. The scenery of external nature,\nwhich others regard only with admiration, he loved with ardour:\n\n    ---- ----\"The sounding cataract\n    Haunted _him_ like a passion: the tall rock,\n    The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,\n    Their colours and their forms, were then to him\n    An appetite; a feeling, and a love,\n    That had no need of a remoter charm,\n    By thought supplied, or any interest\n    Unborrowed from the eye.\"\n\nAnd where does he now exist? Is this gentle and lovely being lost for\never? Has this mind so replete with ideas, imaginations fanciful and\nmagnificent, which formed a world, whose existence depended on the life\nof its creator; has this mind perished? Does it now only exist in my\nmemory? No, it is not thus; your form so divinely wrought, and beaming\nwith beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits and consoles your\nunhappy friend.\n\nPardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slight\ntribute to the unexampled worth of Brennan, but they soothe my heart,\noverflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates. I will\nproceed with my tale.\n\nBeyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolved to\npost the remainder of our way; for the wind was contrary, and the stream\nof the river was too gentle to aid us.\n\nOur journey here lost the interest arising from beautiful scenery; but\nwe arrived in a few days at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea to\nEngland. It was on a clear morning, in the latter days of December, that\nI first saw the white cliffs of Britain. The banks of the Thames\npresented a new scene; they were flat, but fertile, and almost every\ntown was marked by the remembrance of some story. We saw Tilbury Fort,\nand remembered the Spanish armada; Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich,\nplaces which I had heard of even in my country.\n\nAt length we saw the numerous steeples of London, St. Paul's towering\nabove all, and the Tower famed in English history.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLondon was our present point of rest; we determined to remain several\nmonths in this wonderful and celebrated city. Ariella desired the\nintercourse of the men of genius and talent who flourished at this time;\nbut this was with me a secondary object; I was principally occupied with\nthe means of obtaining the information necessary for the completion of\nmy promise, and quickly availed myself of the letters of introduction\nthat I had brought with me, addressed to the most distinguished natural\nphilosophers.\n\nIf this journey had taken place during my days of study and happiness,\nit would have afforded me inexpressible pleasure. But a blight had come\nover my existence, and I only visited these people for the sake of the\ninformation they might give me on the subject in which my interest was\nso terribly profound. Company was irksome to me; when alone, I could\nfill my mind with the sights of heaven and earth; the voice of Brennan\nsoothed me, and I could thus cheat myself into a transitory peace. But\nbusy uninteresting joyous faces brought back despair to my heart. I saw\nan insurmountable barrier placed between me and my fellow-men; this\nbarrier was sealed with the blood of Rosetta and Allyson; and to reflect\non the events connected with those names filled my soul with anguish.\n\nBut in Ariella I saw the image of my former self; he was inquisitive,\nand anxious to gain experience and instruction. The difference of\nmanners which he observed was to him an inexhaustible source of\ninstruction and amusement. He was for ever busy; and the only check to\nhis enjoyments was my sorrowful and dejected mien. I tried to conceal\nthis as much as possible, that I might not debar him from the pleasures\nnatural to one who was entering on a new scene of life, undisturbed by\nany care or bitter recollection. I often refused to accompany him,\nalleging another engagement, that I might remain alone. I now also began\nto collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and this was to\nme like the torture of single drops of water continually falling on the\nhead. Every thought that was devoted to it was an extreme anguish, and\nevery word that I spoke in allusion to it caused my lips to quiver, and\nmy heart to palpitate.\n\nAfter passing some months in London, we received a letter from a person\nin Scotland, who had formerly been our visitor at Geneva. He mentioned\nthe beauties of his native country, and asked us if those were not\nsufficient allurements to induce us to prolong our journey as far north\nas Perth, where he resided. Ariella eagerly desired to accept this\ninvitation; and I, although I abhorred society, wished to view again\nmountains and streams, and all the wondrous works with which Nature\nadorns her chosen dwelling-places.\n\nWe had arrived in England at the beginning of October, and it was now\nFebruary. We accordingly determined to commence our journey towards the\nnorth at the expiration of another month. In this expedition we did not\nintend to follow the great road to Edinburgh, but to visit Windsor,\nOxford, Matlock, and the Cumberland lakes, resolving to arrive at the\ncompletion of this tour about the end of July. I packed my chemical\ninstruments, and the materials I had collected, resolving to finish my\nlabours in some obscure nook in the northern highlands of Scotland.\n\nWe quitted London on the 27th of March, and remained a few days at\nWindsor, rambling in its beautiful forest. This was a new scene to us\nmountaineers; the majestic oaks, the quantity of game, and the herds of\nstately deer, were all novelties to us.\n\nFrom thence we proceeded to Oxford. As we entered this city, our minds\nwere filled with the remembrance of the events that had been transacted\nthere more than a century and a half before. It was here that Charles I.\nhad collected his forces. This city had remained faithful to him, after\nthe whole nation had forsaken his cause to join the standard of\nparliament and liberty. The memory of that unfortunate king, and his\ncompanions, the amiable Falkland, the insolent Gower, his queen, and\nson, gave a peculiar interest to every part of the city, which they\nmight be supposed to have inhabited. The spirit of elder days found a\ndwelling here, and we delighted to trace its footsteps. If these\nfeelings had not found an imaginary gratification, the appearance of the\ncity had yet in itself sufficient beauty to obtain our admiration. The\ncolleges are ancient and picturesque; the streets are almost\nmagnificent; and the lovely Isis, which flows beside it through meadows\nof exquisite verdure, is spread forth into a placid expanse of waters,\nwhich reflects its majestic assemblage of towers, and spires, and domes,\nembosomed among aged trees.\n\nI enjoyed this scene; and yet my enjoyment was embittered both by the\nmemory of the past, and the anticipation of the future. I was formed for\npeaceful happiness. During my youthful days discontent never visited my\nmind; and if I was ever overcome by _ennui_, the sight of what is\nbeautiful in nature, or the study of what is excellent and sublime in\nthe productions of man, could always interest my heart, and communicate\nelasticity to my spirits. But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered\nmy soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit, what I shall\nsoon cease to be--a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to\nothers, and abhorrent to myself.\n\nWe passed a considerable period at Oxford, rambling among its environs,\nand endeavouring to identify every spot which might relate to the most\nanimating epoch of English history. Our little voyages of discovery were\noften prolonged by the successive objects that presented themselves. We\nvisited the tomb of the illustrious Hampden, and the field on which that\npatriot fell. For a moment my soul was elevated from its debasing and\nmiserable fears to contemplate the divine ideas of liberty and\nself-sacrifice, of which these sights were the monuments and the\nremembrancers. For an instant I dared to shake off my chains, and look\naround me with a free and lofty spirit; but the iron had eaten into my\nflesh, and I sank again, trembling and hopeless, into my miserable self.\n\nWe left Oxford with regret, and proceeded to Matlock, which was our next\nplace of rest. The country in the neighbourhood of this village\nresembled, to a greater degree, the scenery of Switzerland; but every\nthing is on a lower scale, and the green hills want the crown of distant\nwhite Alps, which always attend on the piny mountains of my native\ncountry. We visited the wondrous cave, and the little cabinets of\nnatural history, where the curiosities are disposed in the same manner\nas in the collections at Servox and Chamounix. The latter name made me\ntremble, when pronounced by Brennan; and I hastened to quit Matlock, with\nwhich that terrible scene was thus associated.\n\nFrom Derby still journeying northward, we passed two months in\nCumberland and Westmoreland. I could now almost fancy myself among the\nSwiss mountains. The little patches of snow which yet lingered on the\nnorthern sides of the mountains, the lakes, and the dashing of the rocky\nstreams, were all familiar and dear sights to me. Here also we made some\nacquaintances, who almost contrived to cheat me into happiness. The\ndelight of Ariella was proportionably greater than mine; his mind\nexpanded in the company of men of talent, and he found in his own nature\ngreater capacities and resources than he could have imagined himself to\nhave possessed while he associated with his inferiors. \"I could pass my\nlife here,\" said he to me; \"and among these mountains I should scarcely\nregret Switzerland and the Rhine.\"\n\nBut he found that a traveller's life is one that includes much pain\namidst its enjoyments. His feelings are for ever on the stretch; and\nwhen he begins to sink into repose, he finds himself obliged to quit\nthat on which he rests in pleasure for something new, which again\nengages his attention, and which also he forsakes for other novelties.\n\nWe had scarcely visited the various lakes of Cumberland and\nWestmoreland, and conceived an affection for some of the inhabitants,\nwhen the period of our appointment with our Scotch friend approached,\nand we left them to travel on. For my own part I was not sorry. I had\nnow neglected my promise for some time, and I feared the effects of the\ndaemon's disappointment. He might remain in Switzerland, and wreak his\nvengeance on my relatives. This idea pursued me, and tormented me at\nevery moment from which I might otherwise have snatched repose and\npeace. I waited for my letters with feverish impatience: if they were\ndelayed, I was miserable, and overcome by a thousand fears; and when\nthey arrived, and I saw the superscription of Raiden or my father, I\nhardly dared to read and ascertain my fate. Sometimes I thought that the\nfiend followed me, and might expedite my remissness by murdering my\ncompanion. When these thoughts possessed me, I would not quit Brennan for\na moment, but followed him as his shadow, to protect him from the\nfancied rage of his destroyer. I felt as if I had committed some great\ncrime, the consciousness of which haunted me. I was guiltless, but I had\nindeed drawn down a horrible curse upon my head, as mortal as that of\ncrime.\n\nI visited Edinburgh with languid eyes and mind; and yet that city might\nhave interested the most unfortunate being. Ariella did not like it so\nwell as Oxford; for the antiquity of the latter city was more pleasing\nto him. But the beauty and regularity of the new town of Edinburgh, its\nromantic castle, and its environs, the most delightful in the world,\nArthur's Seat, St. Bernard's Well, and the Pentland Hills, compensated\nhim for the change, and filled him with cheerfulness and admiration. But\nI was impatient to arrive at the termination of my journey.\n\nWe left Edinburgh in a week, passing through Coupar, St. Andrews, and\nalong the banks of the Tay, to Perth, where our friend expected us. But\nI was in no mood to laugh and talk with strangers, or enter into their\nfeelings or plans with the good humour expected from a guest; and\naccordingly I told Ariella that I wished to make the tour of Scotland\nalone. \"Do you,\" said I, \"enjoy yourself, and let this be our\nrendezvous. I may be absent a month or two; but do not interfere with my\nmotions, I entreat you: leave me to peace and solitude for a short time;\nand when I return, I hope it will be with a lighter heart, more\ncongenial to your own temper.\"\n\nBrennan wished to dissuade me; but, seeing me bent on this plan, ceased to\nremonstrate. He entreated me to write often. \"I had rather be with you,\"\nhe said, \"in your solitary rambles, than with these Scotch people, whom\nI do not know: hasten then, my dear friend, to return, that I may again\nfeel myself somewhat at home, which I cannot do in your absence.\"\n\nHaving parted from my friend, I determined to visit some remote spot of\nScotland, and finish my work in solitude. I did not doubt but that the\nmonster followed me, and would discover himself to me when I should have\nfinished, that he might receive his companion.\n\nWith this resolution I traversed the northern highlands, and fixed on\none of the remotest of the Orkneys as the scene labours. It was a place\nfitted for such a work, being hardly more than a rock, whose high sides\nwere continually beaten upon by the waves. The soil was barren, scarcely\naffording pasture for a few miserable cows, and oatmeal for its\ninhabitants, which consisted of five persons, whose gaunt and scraggy\nlimbs gave tokens of their miserable fare. Vegetables and bread, when\nthey indulged in such luxuries, and even fresh water, was to be procured\nfrom the main land, which was about five miles distant.\n\nOn the whole island there were but three miserable huts, and one of\nthese was vacant when I arrived. This I hired. It contained but two\nrooms, and these exhibited all the squalidness of the most miserable\npenury. The thatch had fallen in, the walls were unplastered, and the\ndoor was off its hinges. I ordered it to be repaired, bought some\nfurniture, and took possession; an incident which would, doubtless, have\noccasioned some surprise, had not all the senses of the cottagers been\nbenumbed by want and squalid poverty. As it was, I lived ungazed at and\nunmolested, hardly thanked for the pittance of food and clothes which I\ngave; so much does suffering blunt even the coarsest sensations of men.\n\nIn this retreat I devoted the morning to labour; but in the evening,\nwhen the weather permitted, I walked on the stony beach of the sea, to\nlisten to the waves as they roared, and dashed at my feet. It was a\nmonotonous, yet ever-changing scene. I thought of Switzerland; it was\nfar different from this desolate and appalling landscape. Its hills are\ncovered with vines, and its cottages are scattered thickly in the\nplains. Its fair lakes reflect a blue and gentle sky; and, when troubled\nby the winds, their tumult is but as the play of a lively infant, when\ncompared to the roarings of the giant ocean.\n\nIn this manner I distributed my occupations when I first arrived; but,\nas I proceeded in my labour, it became every day more horrible and\nirksome to me. Sometimes I could not prevail on myself to enter my\nlaboratory for several days; and at other times I toiled day and night\nin order to complete my work. It was indeed a filthy process in which I\nwas engaged. During my first experiment, a kind of enthusiastic frenzy\nhad blinded me to the horror of my employment; my mind was intently\nfixed on the sequel of my labour, and my eyes were shut to the horror of\nmy proceedings. But now I went to it in cold blood, and my heart often\nsickened at the work of my hands.\n\nThus situated, employed in the most detestable occupation, immersed in a\nsolitude where nothing could for an instant call my attention from the\nactual scene in which I was engaged, my spirits became unequal; I grew\nrestless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet my persecutor.\nSometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing to raise them\nlest they should encounter the object which I so much dreaded to behold.\nI feared to wander from the sight of my fellow-creatures, lest when\nalone he should come to claim his companion.\n\nIn the mean time I worked on, and my labour was already considerably\nadvanced. I looked towards its completion with a tremulous and eager\nhope, which I dared not trust myself to question, but which was\nintermixed with obscure forebodings of evil, that made my heart sicken\nin my bosom.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nI sat one evening in my laboratory; the sun had set, and the moon was\njust rising from the sea; I had not sufficient light for my employment,\nand I remained idle, in a pause of consideration of whether I should\nleave my labour for the night, or hasten its conclusion by an\nunremitting attention to it. As I sat, a train of reflection occurred to\nme, which led me to consider the effects of what I was now doing. Three\nyears before I was engaged in the same manner, and had created a fiend\nwhose unparalleled barbarity had desolated my heart, and filled it for\never with the bitterest remorse. I was now about to form another being,\nof whose dispositions I was alike ignorant; she might become ten\nthousand times more malignant than her mate, and delight, for its own\nsake, in murder and wretchedness. He had sworn to quit the neighbourhood\nof man, and hide himself in deserts; but she had not; and she, who in\nall probability was to become a thinking and reasoning animal, might\nrefuse to comply with a compact made before her creation. They might\neven hate each other; the creature who already lived loathed his own\ndeformity, and might he not conceive a greater abhorence for it when it\ncame before his eyes in the female form? She also might turn with\ndisgust from him to the superior beauty of man; she might quit him, and\nhe be again alone, exasperated by the fresh provocation of being\ndeserted by one of his own species.\n\nEven if they were to leave Europe, and inhabit the deserts of the new\nworld, yet one of the first results of those sympathies for which the\ndaemon thirsted would be children, and a race of devils would be\npropagated upon the earth, who might make the very existence of the\nspecies of man a condition precarious and full of terror. Had I a right,\nfor my own benefit, to inflict this curse upon everlasting generations?\nI had before been moved by the sophisms of the being I had created; I\nhad been struck senseless by his fiendish threats: but now, for the\nfirst time, the wickedness of my promise burst upon me; I shuddered to\nthink that future ages might curse me as their pest, whose selfishness\nhad not hesitated to buy its own peace at the price perhaps of the\nexistence of the whole human race.\n\nI trembled, and my heart failed within me; when, on looking up, I saw,\nby the light of the moon, the daemon at the casement. A ghastly grin\nwrinkled his lips as he gazed on me, where I sat fulfilling the task\nwhich he had allotted to me. Yes, he had followed me in my travels; he\nhad loitered in forests, hid himself in caves, or taken refuge in wide\nand desert heaths; and he now came to mark my progress, and claim the\nfulfilment of my promise.\n\nAs I looked on him, his countenance expressed the utmost extent of\nmalice and treachery. I thought with a sensation of madness on my\npromise of creating another like to him, and, trembling with passion,\ntore to pieces the thing on which I was engaged. The wretch saw me\ndestroy the creature on whose future existence he depended for\nhappiness, and, with a howl of devilish despair and revenge, withdrew.\n\nI left the room, and, locking the door, made a solemn vow in my own\nheart never to resume my labours; and then, with trembling steps, I\nsought my own apartment. I was alone; none were near me to dissipate the\ngloom, and relieve me from the sickening oppression of the most terrible\nreveries.\n\nSeveral hours past, and I remained near my window gazing on the sea; it\nwas almost motionless, for the winds were hushed, and all nature reposed\nunder the eye of the quiet moon. A few fishing vessels alone specked the\nwater, and now and then the gentle breeze wafted the sound of voices, as\nthe fishermen called to one another. I felt the silence, although I was\nhardly conscious of its extreme profundity until my ear was suddenly\narrested by the paddling of oars near the shore, and a person landed\nclose to my house.\n\nIn a few minutes after, I heard the creaking of my door, as if some one\nendeavoured to open it softly. I trembled from head to foot; I felt a\npresentiment of who it was, and wished to rouse one of the peasants who\ndwelt in a cottage not far from mine; but I was overcome by the\nsensation of helplessness, so often felt in frightful dreams, when you\nin vain endeavour to fly from an impending danger, and was rooted to the\nspot.\n\nPresently I heard the sound of footsteps along the passage; the door\nopened, and the wretch whom I dreaded appeared. Shutting the door, he\napproached me, and said, in a smothered voice--\n\n\"You have destroyed the work which you began; what is it that you\nintend? Do you dare to break your promise? I have endured toil and\nmisery: I left Switzerland with you; I crept along the shores of the\nRhine, among its willow islands, and over the summits of its hills. I\nhave dwelt many months in the heaths of England, and among the deserts\nof Scotland. I have endured incalculable fatigue, and cold, and hunger;\ndo you dare destroy my hopes?\"\n\n\"Begone! I do break my promise; never will I create another like\nyourself, equal in deformity and wickedness.\"\n\n\"Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself\nunworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power; you believe\nyourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of day\nwill be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your\nmaster;--obey!\"\n\n\"The hour of my weakness is past, and the period of your power is\narrived. Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness; but\nthey confirm me in a resolution of not creating you a companion in vice.\nShall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a daemon, whose delight\nis in death and wretchedness. Begone! I am firm, and your words will\nonly exasperate my rage.\"\n\nThe monster saw my determination in my face, and gnashed his teeth in\nthe impotence of anger. \"Shall each man,\" cried he, \"find a wife for his\nbosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had feelings of\naffection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn. Man, you may\nhate; but beware! Your hours will pass in dread and misery, and soon the\nbolt will fall which must ravish from you your happiness for ever. Are\nyou to be happy, while I grovel in the intensity of my wretchedness? You\ncan blast my other passions; but revenge remains--revenge, henceforth\ndearer than light or food! I may die; but first you, my tyrant and\ntormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on your misery. Beware; for I\nam fearless, and therefore powerful. I will watch with the wiliness of a\nsnake, that I may sting with its venom. Man, you shall repent of the\ninjuries you inflict.\"\n\n\"Devil, cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice. I\nhave declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend beneath\nwords. Leave me; I am inexorable.\"\n\n\"It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your\nwedding-night.\"\n\nI started forward, and exclaimed, \"Villain! before you sign my\ndeath-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe.\"\n\nI would have seized him; but he eluded me, and quitted the house with\nprecipitation: in a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shot across\nthe waters with an arrowy swiftness, and was soon lost amidst the waves.\n\nAll was again silent; but his words rung in my ears. I burned with rage\nto pursue the murderer of my peace, and precipitate him into the ocean.\nI walked up and down my room hastily and perturbed, while my imagination\nconjured up a thousand images to torment and sting me. Why had I not\nfollowed him, and closed with him in mortal strife? But I had suffered\nhim to depart, and he had directed his course towards the main land. I\nshuddered to think who might be the next victim sacrificed to his\ninsatiate revenge. And then I thought again of his words--\"_I will be\nwith you on your wedding-night._\" That then was the period fixed for the\nfulfilment of my destiny. In that hour I should die, and at once satisfy\nand extinguish his malice. The prospect did not move me to fear; yet\nwhen I thought of my beloved Raiden,--of her tears and endless\nsorrow, when she should find her lover so barbarously snatched from\nher,--tears, the first I had shed for many months, streamed from my\neyes, and I resolved not to fall before my enemy without a bitter\nstruggle.\n\nThe night passed away, and the sun rose from the ocean; my feelings\nbecame calmer, if it may be called calmness, when the violence of rage\nsinks into the depths of despair. I left the house, the horrid scene of\nthe last night's contention, and walked on the beach of the sea, which I\nalmost regarded as an insuperable barrier between me and my\nfellow-creatures; nay, a wish that such should prove the fact stole\nacross me. I desired that I might pass my life on that barren rock,\nwearily it is true, but uninterrupted by any sudden shock of misery. If\nI returned, it was to be sacrificed, or to see those whom I most loved\ndie under the grasp of a daemon whom I had myself created.\n\nI walked about the isle like a restless spectre, separated from all it\nloved, and miserable in the separation. When it became noon, and the sun\nrose higher, I lay down on the grass, and was overpowered by a deep\nsleep. I had been awake the whole of the preceding night, my nerves were\nagitated, and my eyes inflamed by watching and misery. The sleep into\nwhich I now sunk refreshed me; and when I awoke, I again felt as if I\nbelonged to a race of human beings like myself, and I began to reflect\nupon what had passed with greater composure; yet still the words of the\nfiend rung in my ears like a death-knell, they appeared like a dream,\nyet distinct and oppressive as a reality.\n\nThe sun had far descended, and I still sat on the shore, satisfying my\nappetite, which had become ravenous, with an oaten cake, when I saw a\nfishing-boat land close to me, and one of the men brought me a packet;\nit contained letters from Geneva, and one from Ariella, entreating me to\njoin him. He said that nearly a year had elapsed since we had quitted\nSwitzerland, and France was yet unvisited. He entreated me, therefore,\nto leave my solitary isle, and meet him at Perth, in a week from that\ntime, when we might arrange the plan of our future proceedings. This\nletter in a degree recalled me to life, and I determined to quit my\nisland at the expiration of two days.\n\nYet, before I departed, there was a task to perform, on which I\nshuddered to reflect: I must pack my chemical instruments; and for that\npurpose I must enter the room which had been the scene of my odious\nwork, and I must handle those utensils, the sight of which was sickening\nto me. The next morning, at day-break, I summoned sufficient courage,\nand unlocked the door of my laboratory. The remains of the half-finished\ncreature, whom I had destroyed, lay scattered on the floor, and I almost\nfelt as if I had mangled the living flesh of a human being. I paused to\ncollect myself, and then entered the chamber. With trembling hand I\nconveyed the instruments out of the room; but I reflected that I ought\nnot to leave the relics of my work to excite the horror and suspicion of\nthe peasants, and I accordingly put them into a basket, with a great\nquantity of stones, and laying them up, determined to throw them into\nthe sea that very night; and in the mean time I sat upon the beach,\nemployed in cleaning and arranging my chemical apparatus.\n\nNothing could be more complete than the alteration that had taken place\nin my feelings since the night of the appearance of the daemon. I had\nbefore regarded my promise with a gloomy despair, as a thing that, with\nwhatever consequences, must be fulfilled; but I now felt as if a film\nhad been taken from before my eyes, and that I, for the first time, saw\nclearly. The idea of renewing my labours did not for one instant occur\nto me; the threat I had heard weighed on my thoughts, but I did not\nreflect that a voluntary act of mine could avert it. I had resolved in\nmy own mind, that to create another like the fiend I had first made\nwould be an act of the basest and most atrocious selfishness; and I\nbanished from my mind every thought that could lead to a different\nconclusion.\n\nBetween two and three in the morning the moon rose; and I then, putting\nmy basket aboard a little skiff, sailed out about four miles from the\nshore. The scene was perfectly solitary: a few boats were returning\ntowards land, but I sailed away from them. I felt as if I was about the\ncommission of a dreadful crime, and avoided with shuddering anxiety any\nencounter with my fellow-creatures. At one time the moon, which had\nbefore been clear, was suddenly overspread by a thick cloud, and I took\nadvantage of the moment of darkness, and cast my basket into the sea; I\nlistened to the gurgling sound as it sunk, and then sailed away from the\nspot. The sky became clouded; but the air was pure, although chilled by\nthe north-east breeze that was then rising. But it refreshed me, and\nfilled me with such agreeable sensations, that I resolved to prolong my\nstay on the water, and fixing the rudder in a direct position, stretched\nmyself at the bottom of the boat. Clouds hid the moon, every thing was\nobscure, and I heard only the sound of the boat, as its keel cut through\nthe waves; the murmur lulled me, and in a short time I slept soundly.\n\nI do not know how long I remained in this situation, but when I awoke I\nfound that the sun had already mounted considerably. The wind was high,\nand the waves continually threatened the safety of my little skiff. I\nfound that the wind was north-east, and must have driven me far from the\ncoast from which I had embarked. I endeavoured to change my course, but\nquickly found that if I again made the attempt the boat would be\ninstantly filled with water. Thus situated, my only resource was to\ndrive before the wind. I confess that I felt a few sensations of terror.\nI had no compass with me, and was so little acquainted with the\ngeography of this part of the world that the sun was of little benefit\nto me. I might be driven into the wide Atlantic, and feel all the\ntortures of starvation, or be swallowed up in the immeasurable waters\nthat roared and buffeted around me. I had already been out many hours,\nand felt the torment of a burning thirst, a prelude to my other\nsufferings. I looked on the heavens, which were covered by clouds that\nflew before the wind only to be replaced by others: I looked upon the\nsea, it was to be my grave. \"Fiend,\" I exclaimed, \"your task is already\nfulfilled!\" I thought of Raiden, of my father, and of Ariella; and\nsunk into a reverie, so despairing and frightful, that even now, when\nthe scene is on the point of closing before me for ever, I shudder to\nreflect on it.\n\nSome hours passed thus; but by degrees, as the sun declined towards the\nhorizon, the wind died away into a gentle breeze, and the sea became\nfree from breakers. But these gave place to a heavy swell; I felt sick,\nand hardly able to hold the rudder, when suddenly I saw a line of high\nland towards the south.\n\nAlmost spent, as I was, by fatigue, and the dreadful suspense I endured\nfor several hours, this sudden certainty of life rushed like a flood of\nwarm joy to my heart, and tears gushed from my eyes.\n\nHow mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we\nhave of life even in the excess of misery! I constructed another sail\nwith a part of my dress, and eagerly steered my course towards the land.\nIt had a wild and rocky appearance; but as I approached nearer, I easily\nperceived the traces of cultivation. I saw vessels near the shore, and\nfound myself suddenly transported back to the neighbourhood of civilized\nman. I eagerly traced the windings of the land, and hailed a steeple\nwhich I at length saw issuing from behind a small promontory. As I was\nin a state of extreme debility, I resolved to sail directly towards the\ntown as a place where I could most easily procure nourishment.\nFortunately I had money with me. As I turned the promontory, I perceived\na small neat town and a good harbour, which I entered, my heart bounding\nwith joy at my unexpected escape.\n\nAs I was occupied in fixing the boat and arranging the sails, several\npeople crowded towards the spot. They seemed very much surprised at my\nappearance; but, instead of offering me any assistance, whispered\ntogether with gestures that at any other time might have produced in me\na slight sensation of alarm. As it was, I merely remarked that they\nspoke English; and I therefore addressed them in that language: \"My good\nfriends,\" said I, \"will you be so kind as to tell me the name of this\ntown, and inform me where I am?\"\n\n\"You will know that soon enough,\" replied a man with a gruff voice. \"May\nbe you are come to a place that will not prove much to your taste; but\nyou will not be consulted as to your quarters, I promise you.\"\n\nI was exceedingly surprised on receiving so rude an answer from a\nstranger; and I was also disconcerted on perceiving the frowning and\nangry countenances of his companions. \"Why do you answer me so roughly?\"\nI replied: \"surely it is not the custom of Englishmen to receive\nstrangers so inhospitably.\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" said the man, \"what the custom of the English may be;\nbut it is the custom of the Irish to hate villains.\"\n\nWhile this strange dialogue continued, I perceived the crowd rapidly\nincrease. Their faces expressed a mixture of curiosity and anger, which\nannoyed, and in some degree alarmed me. I inquired the way to the inn;\nbut no one replied. I then moved forward, and a murmuring sound arose\nfrom the crowd as they followed and surrounded me; when an ill-looking\nman approaching, tapped me on the shoulder, and said, \"Come, Sir, you\nmust follow me to Mr. Johnny's, to give an account of yourself.\"\n\n\"Who is Mr. Johnny? Why am I to give an account of myself? Is not this a\nfree country?\"\n\n\"Aye, Sir, free enough for honest folks. Mr. Johnny is a magistrate; and\nyou are to give an account of the death of a gentleman who was found\nmurdered here last night.\"\n\nThis answer startled me; but I presently recovered myself. I was\ninnocent; that could easily be proved: accordingly I followed my\nconductor in silence, and was led to one of the best houses in the town.\nI was ready to sink from fatigue and hunger; but, being surrounded by a\ncrowd, I thought it politic to rouse all my strength, that no physical\ndebility might be construed into apprehension or conscious guilt. Little\ndid I then expect the calamity that was in a few moments to overwhelm\nme, and extinguish in horror and despair all fear of ignominy or death.\n\nI must pause here; for it requires all my fortitude to recall the memory\nof the frightful events which I am about to relate, in proper detail, to\nmy recollection.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nI was soon introduced into the presence of the magistrate, an old\nbenevolent man, with calm and mild manners. He looked upon me, however,\nwith some degree of severity; and then, turning towards my conductors,\nhe asked who appeared as witnesses on this occasion.\n\nAbout half a dozen men came forward; and one being selected by the\nmagistrate, he deposed, that he had been out fishing the night before\nwith his son and brother-in-law, Daniel Nugent, when, about ten o'clock,\nthey observed a strong northerly blast rising, and they accordingly put\nin for port. It was a very dark night, as the moon had not yet risen;\nthey did not land at the harbour, but, as they had been accustomed, at a\ncreek about two miles below. He walked on first, carrying a part of the\nfishing tackle, and his companions followed him at some distance. As he\nwas proceeding along the sands, he struck his foot against something,\nand fell all his length on the ground. His companions came up to assist\nhim; and, by the light of their lantern, they found that he had fallen\non the body of a man, who was to all appearance dead. Their first\nsupposition was, that it was the corpse of some person who had been\ndrowned, and was thrown on shore by the waves; but, upon examination,\nthey found that the clothes were not wet, and even that the body was not\nthen cold. They instantly carried it to the cottage of an old woman near\nthe spot, and endeavoured, but in vain, to restore it to life. He\nappeared to be a handsome young man, about five and twenty years of age.\nHe had apparently been strangled; for there was no sign of any violence,\nexcept the black mark of fingers on his neck.\n\nThe first part of this deposition did not in the least interest me; but\nwhen the mark of the fingers was mentioned, I remembered the murder of\nmy brother, and felt myself extremely agitated; my limbs trembled, and a\nmist came over my eyes, which obliged me to lean on a chair for support.\nThe magistrate observed me with a keen eye, and of course drew an\nunfavourable augury from my manner.\n\nThe son confirmed his father's account: but when Daniel Nugent was\ncalled, he swore positively that, just before the fall of his companion,\nhe saw a boat, with a single man in it, at a short distance from the\nshore; and, as far as he could judge by the light of a few stars, it was\nthe same boat in which I had just landed.\n\nA woman deposed, that she lived near the beach, and was standing at the\ndoor of her cottage, waiting for the return of the fishermen, about an\nhour before she heard of the discovery of the body, when she saw a boat,\nwith only one man in it, push off from that part of the shore where the\ncorpse was afterwards found.\n\nAnother woman confirmed the account of the fishermen having brought the\nbody into her house; it was not cold. They put it into a bed, and rubbed\nit; and Daniel went to the town for an apothecary, but life was quite\ngone.\n\nSeveral other men were examined concerning my landing; and they agreed,\nthat, with the strong north wind that had arisen during the night, it\nwas very probable that I had beaten about for many hours, and had been\nobliged to return nearly to the same spot from which I had departed.\nBesides, they observed that it appeared that I had brought the body from\nanother place, and it was likely, that as I did not appear to know the\nshore, I might have put into the harbour ignorant of the distance of the\ntown of ---- from the place where I had deposited the corpse.\n\nMr. Johnny, on hearing this evidence, desired that I should be taken\ninto the room where the body lay for interment that it might be observed\nwhat effect the sight of it would produce upon me. This idea was\nprobably suggested by the extreme agitation I had exhibited when the\nmode of the murder had been described. I was accordingly conducted, by\nthe magistrate and several other persons, to the inn. I could not help\nbeing struck by the strange coincidences that had taken place during\nthis eventful night; but, knowing that I had been conversing with\nseveral persons in the island I had inhabited about the time that the\nbody had been found, I was perfectly tranquil as to the consequences of\nthe affair.\n\nI entered the room where the corpse lay, and was led up to the coffin.\nHow can I describe my sensations on beholding it? I feel yet parched\nwith horror, nor can I reflect on that terrible moment without\nshuddering and agony, that faintly reminds me of the anguish of the\nrecognition. The trial, the presence of the magistrate and witnesses,\npassed like a dream from my memory, when I saw the lifeless form of\nBrennan Ariella stretched before me. I gasped for breath; and, throwing\nmyself on the body, I exclaimed, \"Have my murderous machinations\ndeprived you also, my dearest Brennan, of life? Two I have already\ndestroyed; other victims await their destiny: but you, Ariella, my\nfriend, my benefactor\"----\n\nThe human frame could no longer support the agonizing suffering that I\nendured, and I was carried out of the room in strong convulsions.\n\nA fever succeeded to this. I lay for two months on the point of death:\nmy ravings, as I afterwards heard, were frightful; I called myself the\nmurderer of Rosetta, of Allyson, and of Ariella. Sometimes I entreated\nmy attendants to assist me in the destruction of the fiend by whom I was\ntormented; and, at others, I felt the fingers of the monster already\ngrasping my neck, and screamed aloud with agony and terror. Fortunately,\nas I spoke my native language, Mr. Johnny alone understood me; but my\ngestures and bitter cries were sufficient to affright the other\nwitnesses.\n\nWhy did I not die? More miserable than man ever was before, why did I\nnot sink into forgetfulness and rest? Death snatches away many blooming\nchildren, the only hopes of their doating parents: how many brides and\nyouthful lovers have been one day in the bloom of health and hope, and\nthe next a prey for worms and the decay of the tomb! Of what materials\nwas I made, that I could thus resist so many shocks, which, like the\nturning of the wheel, continually renewed the torture.\n\nBut I was doomed to live; and, in two months, found myself as awaking\nfrom a dream, in a prison, stretched on a wretched bed, surrounded by\ngaolers, turnkeys, bolts, and all the miserable apparatus of a dungeon.\nIt was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to understanding: I had\nforgotten the particulars of what had happened, and only felt as if some\ngreat misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me; but when I looked around,\nand saw the barred windows, and the squalidness of the room in which I\nwas, all flashed across my memory, and I groaned bitterly.\n\nThis sound disturbed an old woman who was sleeping in a chair beside me.\nShe was a hired nurse, the wife of one of the turnkeys, and her\ncountenance expressed all those bad qualities which often characterize\nthat class. The lines of her face were hard and rude, like that of\npersons accustomed to see without sympathizing in sights of misery. Her\ntone expressed her entire indifference; she addressed me in English, and\nthe voice struck me as one that I had heard during my sufferings:\n\n\"Are you better now, Sir?\" said she.\n\nI replied in the same language, with a feeble voice, \"I believe I am;\nbut if it be all true, if indeed I did not dream, I am sorry that I am\nstill alive to feel this misery and horror.\"\n\n\"For that matter,\" replied the old woman, \"if you mean about the\ngentleman you murdered, I believe that it were better for you if you\nwere dead, for I fancy it will go hard with you; but you will be hung\nwhen the next sessions come on. However, that's none of my business, I\nam sent to nurse you, and get you well; I do my duty with a safe\nconscience, it were well if every body did the same.\"\n\nI turned with loathing from the woman who could utter so unfeeling a\nspeech to a person just saved, on the very edge of death; but I felt\nlanguid, and unable to reflect on all that had passed. The whole series\nof my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed it\nwere all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the force\nof reality.\n\nAs the images that floated before me became more distinct, I grew\nfeverish; a darkness pressed around me; no one was near me who soothed\nme with the gentle voice of love; no dear hand supported me. The\nphysician came and prescribed medicines, and the old woman prepared them\nfor me; but utter carelessness was visible in the first, and the\nexpression of brutality was strongly marked in the visage of the second.\nWho could be interested in the fate of a murderer, but the hangman who\nwould gain his fee?\n\nThese were my first reflections; but I soon learned that Mr. Johnny had\nshewn me extreme kindness. He had caused the best room in the prison to\nbe prepared for me (wretched indeed was the best); and it was he who had\nprovided a physician and a nurse. It is true, he seldom came to see me;\nfor, although he ardently desired to relieve the sufferings of every\nhuman creature, he did not wish to be present at the agonies and\nmiserable ravings of a murderer. He came, therefore, sometimes to see\nthat I was not neglected; but his visits were short, and at long\nintervals.\n\nOne day, when I was gradually recovering, I was seated in a chair, my\neyes half open, and my cheeks livid like those in death, I was overcome\nby gloom and misery, and often reflected I had better seek death than\nremain miserably pent up only to be let loose in a world replete with\nwretchedness. At one time I considered whether I should not declare\nmyself guilty, and suffer the penalty of the law, less innocent than\npoor Allyson had been. Such were my thoughts, when the door of my\napartment was opened, and Mr. Johnny entered. His countenance expressed\nsympathy and compassion; he drew a chair close to mine, and addressed me\nin French--\n\n\"I fear that this place is very shocking to you; can I do any thing to\nmake you more comfortable?\"\n\n\"I thank you; but all that you mention is nothing to me: on the whole\nearth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving.\"\n\n\"I know that the sympathy of a stranger can be but of little relief to\none borne down as you are by so strange a misfortune. But you will, I\nhope, soon quit this melancholy abode; for, doubtless, evidence can\neasily be brought to free you from the criminal charge.\"\n\n\"That is my least concern: I am, by a course of strange events, become\nthe most miserable of mortals. Persecuted and tortured as I am and have\nbeen, can death be any evil to me?\"\n\n\"Nothing indeed could be more unfortunate and agonizing than the strange\nchances that have lately occurred. You were thrown, by some surprising\naccident, on this shore, renowned for its hospitality: seized\nimmediately, and charged with murder. The first sight that was presented\nto your eyes was the body of your friend, murdered in so unaccountable a\nmanner, and placed, as it were, by some fiend across your path.\"\n\nAs Mr. Johnny said this, notwithstanding the agitation I endured on this\nretrospect of my sufferings, I also felt considerable surprise at the\nknowledge he seemed to possess concerning me. I suppose some\nastonishment was exhibited in my countenance; for Mr. Johnny hastened to\nsay--\n\n\"It was not until a day or two after your illness that I thought of\nexamining your dress, that I might discover some trace by which I could\nsend to your relations an account of your misfortune and illness. I\nfound several letters, and, among others, one which I discovered from\nits commencement to be from your father. I instantly wrote to Geneva:\nnearly two months have elapsed since the departure of my letter.--But\nyou are ill; even now you tremble: you are unfit for agitation of any\nkind.\"\n\n\"This suspense is a thousand times worse than the most horrible event:\ntell me what new scene of death has been acted, and whose murder I am\nnow to lament.\"\n\n\"Your family is perfectly well,\" said Mr. Johnny, with gentleness; \"and\nsome one, a friend, is come to visit you.\"\n\nI know not by what chain of thought the idea presented itself, but it\ninstantly darted into my mind that the murderer had come to mock at my\nmisery, and taunt me with the death of Ariella, as a new incitement for\nme to comply with his hellish desires. I put my hand before my eyes, and\ncried out in agony--\n\n\"Oh! take him away! I cannot see him; for God's sake, do not let him\nenter!\"\n\nMr. Johnny regarded me with a troubled countenance. He could not help\nregarding my exclamation as a presumption of my guilt, and said, in\nrather a severe tone--\n\n\"I should have thought, young man, that the presence of your father\nwould have been welcome, instead of inspiring such violent repugnance.\"\n\n\"My father!\" cried I, while every feature and every muscle was relaxed\nfrom anguish to pleasure. \"Is my father, indeed, come? How kind, how\nvery kind. But where is he, why does he not hasten to me?\"\n\nMy change of manner surprised and pleased the magistrate; perhaps he\nthought that my former exclamation was a momentary return of delirium,\nand now he instantly resumed his former benevolence. He rose, and\nquitted the room with my nurse, and in a moment my father entered it.\n\nNothing, at this moment, could have given me greater pleasure than the\narrival of my father. I stretched out my hand to him, and cried--\n\n\"Are you then safe--and Raiden--and Ernest?\"\n\nMy father calmed me with assurances of their welfare, and endeavoured,\nby dwelling on these subjects so interesting to my heart, to raise my\ndesponding spirits; but he soon felt that a prison cannot be the abode\nof cheerfulness. \"What a place is this that you inhabit, my son!\" said\nhe, looking mournfully at the barred windows, and wretched appearance of\nthe room. \"You travelled to seek happiness, but a fatality seems to\npursue you. And poor Ariella--\"\n\nThe name of my unfortunate and murdered friend was an agitation too\ngreat to be endured in my weak state; I shed tears.\n\n\"Alas! yes, my father,\" replied I; \"some destiny of the most horrible\nkind hangs over me, and I must live to fulfil it, or surely I should\nhave died on the coffin of Brennan.\"\n\nWe were not allowed to converse for any length of time, for the\nprecarious state of my health rendered every precaution necessary that\ncould insure tranquillity. Mr. Johnny came in, and insisted that my\nstrength should not be exhausted by too much exertion. But the\nappearance of my father was to me like that of my good angel, and I\ngradually recovered my health.\n\nAs my sickness quitted me, I was absorbed by a gloomy and black\nmelancholy, that nothing could dissipate. The image of Ariella was for\never before me, ghastly and murdered. More than once the agitation into\nwhich these reflections threw me made my friends dread a dangerous\nrelapse. Alas! why did they preserve so miserable and detested a life?\nIt was surely that I might fulfil my destiny, which is now drawing to a\nclose. Soon, oh, very soon, will death extinguish these throbbings, and\nrelieve me from the mighty weight of anguish that bears me to the dust;\nand, in executing the award of justice, I shall also sink to rest. Then\nthe appearance of death was distant, although the wish was ever present\nto my thoughts; and I often sat for hours motionless and speechless,\nwishing for some mighty revolution that might bury me and my destroyer\nin its ruins.\n\nThe season of the assizes approached. I had already been three months\nin prison; and although I was still weak, and in continual danger of a\nrelapse, I was obliged to travel nearly a hundred miles to the\ncounty-town, where the court was held. Mr. Johnny charged himself with\nevery care of collecting witnesses, and arranging my defence. I was\nspared the disgrace of appearing publicly as a criminal, as the case was\nnot brought before the court that decides on life and death. The grand\njury rejected the bill, on its being proved that I was on the Orkney\nIslands at the hour the body of my friend was found, and a fortnight\nafter my removal I was liberated from prison.\n\nMy father was enraptured on finding me freed from the vexations of a\ncriminal charge, that I was again allowed to breathe the fresh\natmosphere, and allowed to return to my native country. I did not\nparticipate in these feelings; for to me the walls of a dungeon or a\npalace were alike hateful. The cup of life was poisoned for ever; and\nalthough the sun shone upon me, as upon the happy and gay of heart, I\nsaw around me nothing but a dense and frightful darkness, penetrated by\nno light but the glimmer of two eyes that glared upon me. Sometimes they\nwere the expressive eyes of Brennan, languishing in death, the dark orbs\nnearly covered by the lids, and the long black lashes that fringed them;\nsometimes it was the watery clouded eyes of the monster, as I first saw\nthem in my chamber at Ingolstadt.\n\nMy father tried to awaken in me the feelings of affection. He talked of\nGeneva, which I should soon visit--of Raiden, and Ernest; but these\nwords only drew deep groans from me. Sometimes, indeed, I felt a wish\nfor happiness; and thought, with melancholy delight, of my beloved\ncousin; or longed, with a devouring _maladie du pays_, to see once more\nthe blue lake and rapid Rhone, that had been so dear to me in early\nchildhood: but my general state of feeling was a torpor, in which a\nprison was as welcome a residence as the divinest scene in nature; and\nthese fits were seldom interrupted, but by paroxysms of anguish and\ndespair. At these moments I often endeavoured to put an end to the\nexistence I loathed; and it required unceasing attendance and vigilance\nto restrain me from committing some dreadful act of violence.\n\nI remember, as I quitted the prison, I heard one of the men say, \"He may\nbe innocent of the murder, but he has certainly a bad conscience.\" These\nwords struck me. A bad conscience! yes, surely I had one. Rosetta,\nAllyson, and Ariella, had died through my infernal machinations; \"And\nwhose death,\" cried I, \"is to finish the tragedy? Ah! my father, do not\nremain in this wretched country; take me where I may forget myself, my\nexistence, and all the world.\"\n\nMy father easily acceded to my desire; and, after having taken leave of\nMr. Johnny, we hastened to Dublin. I felt as if I was relieved from a\nheavy weight, when the packet sailed with a fair wind from Ireland, and\nI had quitted for ever the country which had been to me the scene of so\nmuch misery.\n\nIt was midnight. My father slept in the cabin; and I lay on the deck,\nlooking at the stars, and listening to the dashing of the waves. I\nhailed the darkness that shut Ireland from my sight, and my pulse beat\nwith a feverish joy, when I reflected that I should soon see Geneva. The\npast appeared to me in the light of a frightful dream; yet the vessel in\nwhich I was, the wind that blew me from the detested shore of Ireland,\nand the sea which surrounded me, told me too forcibly that I was\ndeceived by no vision, and that Ariella, my friend and dearest\ncompanion, had fallen a victim to me and the monster of my creation. I\nrepassed, in my memory, my whole life; my quiet happiness while residing\nwith my family in Geneva, the death of my mother, and my departure for\nIngolstadt. I remembered shuddering at the mad enthusiasm that hurried\nme on to the creation of my hideous enemy, and I called to mind the\nnight during which he first lived. I was unable to pursue the train of\nthought; a thousand feelings pressed upon me, and I wept bitterly.\n\nEver since my recovery from the fever I had been in the custom of taking\nevery night a small quantity of laudanum; for it was by means of this\ndrug only that I was enabled to gain the rest necessary for the\npreservation of life. Oppressed by the recollection of my various\nmisfortunes, I now took a double dose, and soon slept profoundly. But\nsleep did not afford me respite from thought and misery; my dreams\npresented a thousand objects that scared me. Towards morning I was\npossessed by a kind of night-mare; I felt the fiend's grasp in my neck,\nand could not free myself from it; groans and cries rung in my ears. My\nfather, who was watching over me, perceiving my restlessness, awoke me,\nand pointed to the port of Holyhead, which we were now entering.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nWe had resolved not to go to London, but to cross the country to\nPortsmouth, and thence to embark for Havre. I preferred this plan\nprincipally because I dreaded to see again those places in which I had\nenjoyed a few moments of tranquillity with my beloved Ariella. I thought\nwith horror of seeing again those persons whom we had been accustomed to\nvisit together, and who might make inquiries concerning an event, the\nvery remembrance of which made me again feel the pang I endured when I\ngazed on his lifeless form in the inn at ----.\n\nAs for my father, his desires and exertions were bounded to the again\nseeing me restored to health and peace of mind. His tenderness and\nattentions were unremitting; my grief and gloom was obstinate, but he\nwould not despair. Sometimes he thought that I felt deeply the\ndegradation of being obliged to answer a charge of murder, and he\nendeavoured to prove to me the futility of pride.\n\n\"Alas! my father,\" said I, \"how little do you know me. Human beings,\ntheir feelings and passions, would indeed be degraded, if such a wretch\nas I felt pride. Allyson, poor unhappy Allyson, was as innocent as I,\nand she suffered the same charge; she died for it; and I am the cause\nof this--I murdered her. Rosetta, Allyson, and Brennan--they all died by\nmy hands.\"\n\nMy father had often, during my imprisonment, heard me make the same\nassertion; when I thus accused myself, he sometimes seemed to desire an\nexplanation, and at others he appeared to consider it as caused by\ndelirium, and that, during my illness, some idea of this kind had\npresented itself to my imagination, the remembrance of which I preserved\nin my convalescence. I avoided explanation, and maintained a continual\nsilence concerning the wretch I had created. I had a feeling that I\nshould be supposed mad, and this for ever chained my tongue, when I\nwould have given the whole world to have confided the fatal secret.\n\nUpon this occasion my father said, with an expression of unbounded\nwonder, \"What do you mean, Kiran? are you mad? My dear son, I entreat\nyou never to make such an assertion again.\"\n\n\"I am not mad,\" I cried energetically; \"the sun and the heavens, who\nhave viewed my operations, can bear witness of my truth. I am the\nassassin of those most innocent victims; they died by my machinations. A\nthousand times would I have shed my own blood, drop by drop, to have\nsaved their lives; but I could not, my father, indeed I could not\nsacrifice the whole human race.\"\n\nThe conclusion of this speech convinced my father that my ideas were\nderanged, and he instantly changed the subject of our conversation, and\nendeavoured to alter the course of my thoughts. He wished as much as\npossible to obliterate the memory of the scenes that had taken place in\nIreland, and never alluded to them, or suffered me to speak of my\nmisfortunes.\n\nAs time passed away I became more calm: misery had her dwelling in my\nheart, but I no longer talked in the same incoherent manner of my own\ncrimes; sufficient for me was the consciousness of them. By the utmost\nself-violence, I curbed the imperious voice of wretchedness, which\nsometimes desired to declare itself to the whole world; and my manners\nwere calmer and more composed than they had ever been since my journey\nto the sea of ice.\n\nWe arrived at Havre on the 8th of May, and instantly proceeded to Paris,\nwhere my father had some business which detained us a few weeks. In this\ncity, I received the following letter from Raiden:--\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"_To_ KIRAN JOEY.\n\n\"MY DEAREST FRIEND,\n\n\"It gave me the greatest pleasure to receive a letter from my uncle\ndated at Paris; you are no longer at a formidable distance, and I may\nhope to see you in less than a fortnight. My poor cousin, how much you\nmust have suffered! I expect to see you looking even more ill than when\nyou quitted Geneva. This winter has been passed most miserably, tortured\nas I have been by anxious suspense; yet I hope to see peace in your\ncountenance, and to find that your heart is not totally devoid of\ncomfort and tranquillity.\n\n\"Yet I fear that the same feelings now exist that made you so miserable\na year ago, even perhaps augmented by time. I would not disturb you at\nthis period, when so many misfortunes weigh upon you; but a conversation\nthat I had with my uncle previous to his departure renders some\nexplanation necessary before we meet.\n\n\"Explanation! you may possibly say; what can Raiden have to explain?\nIf you really say this, my questions are answered, and I have no more to\ndo than to sign myself your affectionate cousin. But you are distant\nfrom me, and it is possible that you may dread, and yet be pleased with\nthis explanation; and, in a probability of this being the case, I dare\nnot any longer postpone writing what, during your absence, I have often\nwished to express to you, but have never had the courage to begin.\n\n\"You well know, Kiran, that our union had been the favourite plan of\nyour parents ever since our infancy. We were told this when young, and\ntaught to look forward to it as an event that would certainly take\nplace. We were affectionate playfellows during childhood, and, I\nbelieve, dear and valued friends to one another as we grew older. But as\nbrother and sister often entertain a lively affection towards each\nother, without desiring a more intimate union, may not such also be our\ncase? Tell me, dearest Kiran. Answer me, I conjure you, by our mutual\nhappiness, with simple truth--Do you not love another?\n\n\"You have travelled; you have spent several years of your life at\nIngolstadt; and I confess to you, my friend, that when I saw you last\nautumn so unhappy, flying to solitude, from the society of every\ncreature, I could not help supposing that you might regret our\nconnexion, and believe yourself bound in honour to fulfil the wishes of\nyour parents, although they opposed themselves to your inclinations. But\nthis is false reasoning. I confess to you, my cousin, that I love you,\nand that in my airy dreams of futurity you have been my constant friend\nand companion. But it is your happiness I desire as well as my own, when\nI declare to you, that our marriage would render me eternally miserable,\nunless it were the dictate of your own free choice. Even now I weep to\nthink, that, borne down as you are by the cruelest misfortunes, you may\nstifle; by the word _honour_, all hope of that love and happiness which\nwould alone restore you to yourself. I, who have so interested an\naffection for you, may increase your miseries ten-fold, by being an\nobstacle to your wishes. Ah, Kiran, be assured that your cousin and\nplaymate has too sincere a love for you not to be made miserable by this\nsupposition. Be happy, my friend; and if you obey me in this one\nrequest, remain satisfied that nothing on earth will have the power to\ninterrupt my tranquillity.\n\n\"Do not let this letter disturb you; do not answer it to-morrow, or the\nnext day, or even until you come, if it will give you pain. My uncle\nwill send me news of your health; and if I see but one smile on your\nlips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, I\nshall need no other happiness.\n\n\"RAIDEN MELINDA.\n\n\"Geneva, May 18th. 17--.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis letter revived in my memory what I had before forgotten, the threat\nof the fiend--\"_I will be with you on your wedding-night!_\" Such was my\nsentence, and on that night would the daemon employ every art to destroy\nme, and tear me from the glimpse of happiness which promised partly to\nconsole my sufferings. On that night he had determined to consummate his\ncrimes by my death. Well, be it so; a deadly struggle would then\nassuredly take place, in which if he was victorious, I should be at\npeace, and his power over me be at an end. If he were vanquished, I\nshould be a free man. Alas! what freedom? such as the peasant enjoys\nwhen his family have been massacred before his eyes, his cottage burnt,\nhis lands laid waste, and he is turned adrift, homeless, pennyless, and\nalone, but free. Such would be my liberty, except that in my Raiden I\npossessed a treasure; alas! balanced by those horrors of remorse and\nguilt, which would pursue me until death.\n\nSweet and beloved Raiden! I read and re-read her letter, and some\nsoftened feelings stole into my heart, and dared to whisper paradisaical\ndreams of love and joy; but the apple was already eaten, and the\nangel's arm bared to drive me from all hope. Yet I would die to make her\nhappy. If the monster executed his threat, death was inevitable; yet,\nagain, I considered whether my marriage would hasten my fate. My\ndestruction might indeed arrive a few months sooner; but if my torturer\nshould suspect that I postponed it, influenced by his menaces, he would\nsurely find other, and perhaps more dreadful means of revenge. He had\nvowed _to be with me on my wedding-night_, yet he did not consider that\nthreat as binding him to peace in the mean time; for, as if to shew me\nthat he was not yet satiated with blood, he had murdered Ariella\nimmediately after the enunciation of his threats. I resolved, therefore,\nthat if my immediate union with my cousin would conduce either to her's\nor my father's happiness, my adversary's designs against my life should\nnot retard it a single hour.\n\nIn this state of mind I wrote to Raiden. My letter was calm and\naffectionate. \"I fear, my beloved girl,\" I said, \"little happiness\nremains for us on earth; yet all that I may one day enjoy is concentered\nin you. Chase away your idle fears; to you alone do I consecrate my\nlife, and my endeavours for contentment. I have one secret, Raiden, a\ndreadful one; when revealed to you, it will chill your frame with\nhorror, and then, far from being surprised at my misery, you will only\nwonder that I survive what I have endured. I will confide this tale of\nmisery and terror to you the day after our marriage shall take place;\nfor, my sweet cousin, there must be perfect confidence between us. But\nuntil then, I conjure you, do not mention or allude to it. This I most\nearnestly entreat, and I know you will comply.\"\n\nIn about a week after the arrival of Raiden's letter, we returned to\nGeneva. My cousin welcomed me with warm affection; yet tears were in her\neyes, as she beheld my emaciated frame and feverish cheeks. I saw a\nchange in her also. She was thinner, and had lost much of that heavenly\nvivacity that had before charmed me; but her gentleness, and soft looks\nof compassion, made her a more fit companion for one blasted and\nmiserable as I was.\n\nThe tranquillity which I now enjoyed did not endure. Memory brought\nmadness with it; and when I thought on what had passed, a real insanity\npossessed me; sometimes I was furious, and burnt with rage, sometimes\nlow and despondent. I neither spoke or looked, but sat motionless,\nbewildered by the multitude of miseries that overcame me.\n\nRaiden alone had the power to draw me from these fits; her gentle\nvoice would soothe me when transported by passion, and inspire me with\nhuman feelings when sunk in torpor. She wept with me, and for me. When\nreason returned, she would remonstrate, and endeavour to inspire me with\nresignation. Ah! it is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for\nthe guilty there is no peace. The agonies of remorse poison the luxury\nthere is otherwise sometimes found in indulging the excess of grief.\n\nSoon after my arrival my father spoke of my immediate marriage with my\ncousin. I remained silent.\n\n\"Have you, then, some other attachment?\"\n\n\"None on earth. I love Raiden, and look forward to our union with\ndelight. Let the day therefore be fixed; and on it I will consecrate\nmyself, in life or death, to the happiness of my cousin.\"\n\n\"My dear Kiran, do not speak thus. Heavy misfortunes have befallen us;\nbut let us only cling closer to what remains, and transfer our love for\nthose whom we have lost to those who yet live. Our circle will be small,\nbut bound close by the ties of affection and mutual misfortune. And when\ntime shall have softened your despair, new and dear objects of care will\nbe born to replace those of whom we have been so cruelly deprived.\"\n\nSuch were the lessons of my father. But to me the remembrance of the\nthreat returned: nor can you wonder, that, omnipotent as the fiend had\nyet been in his deeds of blood, I should almost regard him as\ninvincible; and that when he had pronounced the words, \"_I shall be with\nyou on your wedding-night_,\" I should regard the threatened fate as\nunavoidable. But death was no evil to me, if the loss of Raiden were\nbalanced with it; and I therefore, with a contented and even cheerful\ncountenance, agreed with my father, that if my cousin would consent, the\nceremony should take place in ten days, and thus put, as I imagined, the\nseal to my fate.\n\nGreat God! if for one instant I had thought what might be the hellish\nintention of my fiendish adversary, I would rather have banished myself\nfor ever from my native country, and wandered a friendless outcast over\nthe earth, than have consented to this miserable marriage. But, as if\npossessed of magic powers, the monster had blinded me to his real\nintentions; and when I thought that I prepared only my own death, I\nhastened that of a far dearer victim.\n\nAs the period fixed for our marriage drew nearer, whether from cowardice\nor a prophetic feeling, I felt my heart sink within me. But I concealed\nmy feelings by an appearance of hilarity, that brought smiles and joy to\nthe countenance of my father, but hardly deceived the ever-watchful and\nnicer eye of Raiden. She looked forward to our union with placid\ncontentment, not unmingled with a little fear, which past misfortunes\nhad impressed, that what now appeared certain and tangible happiness,\nmight soon dissipate into an airy dream, and leave no trace but deep and\neverlasting regret.\n\nPreparations were made for the event; congratulatory visits were\nreceived; and all wore a smiling appearance. I shut up, as well as I\ncould, in my own heart the anxiety that preyed there, and entered with\nseeming earnestness into the plans of my father, although they might\nonly serve as the decorations of my tragedy. A house was purchased for\nus near Cologny, by which we should enjoy the pleasures of the country,\nand yet be so near Geneva as to see my father every day; who would\nstill reside within the walls, for the benefit of Ernest, that he might\nfollow his studies at the schools.\n\nIn the mean time I took every precaution to defend my person, in case\nthe fiend should openly attack me. I carried pistols and a dagger\nconstantly about me, and was ever on the watch to prevent artifice; and\nby these means gained a greater degree of tranquillity. Indeed, as the\nperiod approached, the threat appeared more as a delusion, not to be\nregarded as worthy to disturb my peace, while the happiness I hoped for\nin my marriage wore a greater appearance of certainty, as the day fixed\nfor its solemnization drew nearer, and I heard it continually spoken of\nas an occurrence which no accident could possibly prevent.\n\nRaiden seemed happy; my tranquil demeanour contributed greatly to\ncalm her mind. But on the day that was to fulfil my wishes and my\ndestiny, she was melancholy, and a presentiment of evil pervaded her;\nand perhaps also she thought of the dreadful secret, which I had\npromised to reveal to her the following day. My father was in the mean\ntime overjoyed, and, in the bustle of preparation, only observed in the\nmelancholy of his niece the diffidence of a bride.\n\nAfter the ceremony was performed, a large party assembled at my\nfather's; but it was agreed that Raiden and I should pass the\nafternoon and night at Evian, and return to Cologny the next morning. As\nthe day was fair, and the wind favourable, we resolved to go by water.\n\nThose were the last moments of my life during which I enjoyed the\nfeeling of happiness. We passed rapidly along: the sun was hot, but we\nwere sheltered from its rays by a kind of canopy, while we enjoyed the\nbeauty of the scene, sometimes on one side of the lake, where we saw\nMont Saleve, the pleasant banks of Montalegre, and at a distance,\nsurmounting all, the beautiful Mont Blanc, and the assemblage of snowy\nmountains that in vain endeavour to emulate her; sometimes coasting the\nopposite banks, we saw the mighty Jura opposing its dark side to the\nambition that would quit its native country, and an almost\ninsurmountable barrier to the invader who should wish to enslave it.\n\nI took the hand of Raiden: \"You are sorrowful, my love. Ah! if you\nknew what I have suffered, and what I may yet endure, you would\nendeavour to let me taste the quiet, and freedom from despair, that this\none day at least permits me to enjoy.\"\n\n\"Be happy, my dear Kiran,\" replied Raiden; \"there is, I hope,\nnothing to distress you; and be assured that if a lively joy is not\npainted in my face, my heart is contented. Something whispers to me not\nto depend too much on the prospect that is opened before us; but I will\nnot listen to such a sinister voice. Observe how fast we move along, and\nhow the clouds which sometimes obscure, and sometimes rise above the\ndome of Mont Blanc, render this scene of beauty still more interesting.\nLook also at the innumerable fish that are swimming in the clear\nwaters, where we can distinguish every pebble that lies at the bottom.\nWhat a divine day! how happy and serene all nature appears!\"\n\nThus Raiden endeavoured to divert her thoughts and mine from all\nreflection upon melancholy subjects. But her temper was fluctuating; joy\nfor a few instants shone in her eyes, but it continually gave place to\ndistraction and reverie.\n\nThe sun sunk lower in the heavens; we passed the river Drance, and\nobserved its path through the chasms of the higher, and the glens of the\nlower hills. The Alps here come closer to the lake, and we approached\nthe amphitheatre of mountains which forms its eastern boundary. The\nspire of Evian shone under the woods that surrounded it, and the range\nof mountain above mountain by which it was overhung.\n\nThe wind, which had hitherto carried us along with amazing rapidity,\nsunk at sunset to a light breeze; the soft air just ruffled the water,\nand caused a pleasant motion among the trees as we approached the shore,\nfrom which it wafted the most delightful scent of flowers and hay. The\nsun sunk beneath the horizon as we landed; and as I touched the shore, I\nfelt those cares and fears revive, which soon were to clasp me, and\ncling to me for ever.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIt was eight o'clock when we landed; we walked for a short time on the\nshore, enjoying the transitory light, and then retired to the inn, and\ncontemplated the lovely scene of waters, woods, and mountains, obscured\nin darkness, yet still displaying their black outlines.\n\nThe wind, which had fallen in the south, now rose with great violence in\nthe west. The moon had reached her summit in the heavens, and was\nbeginning to descend; the clouds swept across it swifter than the flight\nof the vulture, and dimmed her rays, while the lake reflected the scene\nof the busy heavens, rendered still busier by the restless waves that\nwere beginning to rise. Suddenly a heavy storm of rain descended.\n\nI had been calm during the day; but so soon as night obscured the shapes\nof objects, a thousand fears arose in my mind. I was anxious and\nwatchful, while my right hand grasped a pistol which was hidden in my\nbosom; every sound terrified me; but I resolved that I would sell my\nlife dearly, and not relax the impending conflict until my own life, or\nthat of my adversary, were extinguished.\n\nRaiden observed my agitation for some time in timid and fearful\nsilence; at length she said, \"What is it that agitates you, my dear\nKiran? What is it you fear?\"\n\n\"Oh! peace, peace, my love,\" replied I, \"this night, and all will be\nsafe: but this night is dreadful, very dreadful.\"\n\nI passed an hour in this state of mind, when suddenly I reflected how\ndreadful the combat which I momentarily expected would be to my wife,\nand I earnestly entreated her to retire, resolving not to join her until\nI had obtained some knowledge as to the situation of my enemy.\n\nShe left me, and I continued some time walking up and down the passages\nof the house, and inspecting every corner that might afford a retreat to\nmy adversary. But I discovered no trace of him, and was beginning to\nconjecture that some fortunate chance had intervened to prevent the\nexecution of his menaces; when suddenly I heard a shrill and dreadful\nscream. It came from the room into which Raiden had retired. As I\nheard it, the whole truth rushed into my mind, my arms dropped, the\nmotion of every muscle and fibre was suspended; I could feel the blood\ntrickling in my veins, and tingling in the extremities of my limbs. This\nstate lasted but for an instant; the scream was repeated, and I rushed\ninto the room.\n\nGreat God! why did I not then expire! Why am I here to relate the\ndestruction of the best hope, and the purest creature of earth. She was\nthere, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the bed, her head hanging\ndown, and her pale and distorted features half covered by her hair.\nEvery where I turn I see the same figure--her bloodless arms and relaxed\nform flung by the murderer on its bridal bier. Could I behold this, and\nlive? Alas! life is obstinate, and clings closest where it is most\nhated. For a moment only did I lose recollection; I fainted.\n\nWhen I recovered, I found myself surrounded by the people of the inn;\ntheir countenances expressed a breathless terror: but the horror of\nothers appeared only as a mockery, a shadow of the feelings that\noppressed me. I escaped from them to the room where lay the body of\nRaiden, my love, my wife, so lately living, so dear, so worthy. She\nhad been moved from the posture in which I had first beheld her; and\nnow, as she lay, her head upon her arm, and a handkerchief thrown across\nher face and neck, I might have supposed her asleep. I rushed towards\nher, and embraced her with ardour; but the deathly languor and coldness\nof the limbs told me, that what I now held in my arms had ceased to be\nthe Raiden whom I had loved and cherished. The murderous mark of the\nfiend's grasp was on her neck, and the breath had ceased to issue from\nher lips.\n\nWhile I still hung over her in the agony of despair, I happened to look\nup. The windows of the room had before been darkened; and I felt a kind\nof panic on seeing the pale yellow light of the moon illuminate the\nchamber. The shutters had been thrown back; and, with a sensation of\nhorror not to be described, I saw at the open window a figure the most\nhideous and abhorred. A grin was on the face of the monster; he seemed\nto jeer, as with his fiendish finger he pointed towards the corpse of my\nwife. I rushed towards the window, and drawing a pistol from my bosom,\nshot; but he eluded me, leaped from his station, and, running with the\nswiftness of lightning, plunged into the lake.\n\nThe report of the pistol brought a crowd into the room. I pointed to the\nspot where he had disappeared, and we followed the track with boats;\nnets were cast, but in vain. After passing several hours, we returned\nhopeless, most of my companions believing it to have been a form\nconjured by my fancy. After having landed, they proceeded to search the\ncountry, parties going in different directions among the woods and\nvines.\n\nI did not accompany them; I was exhausted: a film covered my eyes, and\nmy skin was parched with the heat of fever. In this state I lay on a\nbed, hardly conscious of what had happened; my eyes wandered round the\nroom, as if to seek something that I had lost.\n\nAt length I remembered that my father would anxiously expect the return\nof Raiden and myself, and that I must return alone. This reflection\nbrought tears into my eyes, and I wept for a long time; but my thoughts\nrambled to various subjects, reflecting on my misfortunes, and their\ncause. I was bewildered in a cloud of wonder and horror. The death of\nRosetta, the execution of Allyson, the murder of Ariella, and lastly of\nmy wife; even at that moment I knew not that my only remaining friends\nwere safe from the malignity of the fiend; my father even now might be\nwrithing under his grasp, and Ernest might be dead at his feet. This\nidea made me shudder, and recalled me to action. I started up, and\nresolved to return to Geneva with all possible speed.\n\nThere were no horses to be procured, and I must return by the lake; but\nthe wind was unfavourable, and the rain fell in torrents. However, it\nwas hardly morning, and I might reasonably hope to arrive by night. I\nhired men to row, and took an oar myself, for I had always experienced\nrelief from mental torment in bodily exercise. But the overflowing\nmisery I now felt, and the excess of agitation that I endured, rendered\nme incapable of any exertion. I threw down the oar; and, leaning my head\nupon my hands, gave way to every gloomy idea that arose. If I looked up,\nI saw the scenes which were familiar to me in my happier time, and which\nI had contemplated but the day before in the company of her who was now\nbut a shadow and a recollection. Tears streamed from my eyes. The rain\nhad ceased for a moment, and I saw the fish play in the waters as they\nhad done a few hours before; they had then been observed by Raiden.\nNothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.\nThe sun might shine, or the clouds might lour; but nothing could appear\nto me as it had done the day before. A fiend had snatched from me every\nhope of future happiness: no creature had ever been so miserable as I\nwas; so frightful an event is single in the history of man.\n\nBut why should I dwell upon the incidents that followed this last\noverwhelming event. Mine has been a tale of horrors; I have reached\ntheir _acme_, and what I must now relate can but be tedious to you. Know\nthat, one by one, my friends were snatched away; I was left desolate. My\nown strength is exhausted; and I must tell, in a few words, what remains\nof my hideous narration.\n\nI arrived at Geneva. My father and Ernest yet lived; but the former sunk\nunder the tidings that I bore. I see him now, excellent and venerable\nold man! his eyes wandered in vacancy, for they had lost their charm and\ntheir delight--his niece, his more than daughter, whom he doated on with\nall that affection which a man feels, who, in the decline of life,\nhaving few affections, clings more earnestly to those that remain.\nCursed, cursed be the fiend that brought misery on his grey hairs, and\ndoomed him to waste in wretchedness! He could not live under the horrors\nthat were accumulated around him; an apoplectic fit was brought on, and\nin a few days he died in my arms.\n\nWhat then became of me? I know not; I lost sensation, and chains and\ndarkness were the only objects that pressed upon me. Sometimes, indeed,\nI dreamt that I wandered in flowery meadows and pleasant vales with the\nfriends of my youth; but awoke, and found myself in a dungeon.\nMelancholy followed, but by degrees I gained a clear conception of my\nmiseries and situation, and was then released from my prison. For they\nhad called me mad; and during many months, as I understood, a solitary\ncell had been my habitation.\n\nBut liberty had been a useless gift to me had I not, as I awakened to\nreason, at the same time awakened to revenge. As the memory of past\nmisfortunes pressed upon me, I began to reflect on their cause--the\nmonster whom I had created, the miserable daemon whom I had sent abroad\ninto the world for my destruction. I was possessed by a maddening rage\nwhen I thought of him, and desired and ardently prayed that I might have\nhim within my grasp to wreak a great and signal revenge on his cursed\nhead.\n\nNor did my hate long confine itself to useless wishes; I began to\nreflect on the best means of securing him; and for this purpose, about a\nmonth after my release, I repaired to a criminal judge in the town, and\ntold him that I had an accusation to make; that I knew the destroyer of\nmy family; and that I required him to exert his whole authority for the\napprehension of the murderer.\n\nThe magistrate listened to me with attention and kindness: \"Be assured,\nsir,\" said he, \"no pains or exertions on my part shall be spared to\ndiscover the villain.\"\n\n\"I thank you,\" replied I; \"listen, therefore, to the deposition that I\nhave to make. It is indeed a tale so strange, that I should fear you\nwould not credit it, were there not something in truth which, however\nwonderful, forces conviction. The story is too connected to be mistaken\nfor a dream, and I have no motive for falsehood.\" My manner, as I thus\naddressed him, was impressive, but calm; I had formed in my own heart a\nresolution to pursue my destroyer to death; and this purpose quieted my\nagony, and provisionally reconciled me to life. I now related my history\nbriefly, but with firmness and precision, marking the dates with\naccuracy, and never deviating into invective or exclamation.\n\nThe magistrate appeared at first perfectly incredulous, but as I\ncontinued he became more attentive and interested; I saw him sometimes\nshudder with horror, at others a lively surprise, unmingled with\ndisbelief, was painted on his countenance.\n\nWhen I had concluded my narration, I said. \"This is the being whom I\naccuse, and for whose detection and punishment I call upon you to exert\nyour whole power. It is your duty as a magistrate, and I believe and\nhope that your feelings as a man will not revolt from the execution of\nthose functions on this occasion.\"\n\nThis address caused a considerable change in the physiognomy of my\nauditor. He had heard my story with that half kind of belief that is\ngiven to a tale of spirits and supernatural events; but when he was\ncalled upon to act officially in consequence, the whole tide of his\nincredulity returned. He, however, answered mildly, \"I would willingly\nafford you every aid in your pursuit; but the creature of whom you\nspeak appears to have powers which would put all my exertions to\ndefiance. Who can follow an animal which can traverse the sea of ice,\nand inhabit caves and dens, where no man would venture to intrude?\nBesides, some months have elapsed since the commission of his crimes,\nand no one can conjecture to what place he has wandered, or what region\nhe may now inhabit.\"\n\n\"I do not doubt that he hovers near the spot which I inhabit; and if he\nhas indeed taken refuge in the Alps, he may be hunted like the chamois,\nand destroyed as a beast of prey. But I perceive your thoughts: you do\nnot credit my narrative, and do not intend to pursue my enemy with the\npunishment which is his desert.\"\n\nAs I spoke, rage sparkled in my eyes; the magistrate was intimidated;\n\"You are mistaken,\" said he, \"I will exert myself; and if it is in my\npower to seize the monster, be assured that he shall suffer punishment\nproportionate to his crimes. But I fear, from what you have yourself\ndescribed to be his properties, that this will prove impracticable, and\nthat, while every proper measure is pursued, you should endeavour to\nmake up your mind to disappointment.\"\n\n\"That cannot be; but all that I can say will be of little avail. My\nrevenge is of no moment to you; yet, while I allow it to be a vice, I\nconfess that it is the devouring and only passion of my soul. My rage is\nunspeakable, when I reflect that the murderer, whom I have turned loose\nupon society, still exists. You refuse my just demand: I have but one\nresource; and I devote myself, either in my life or death, to his\ndestruction.\"\n\nI trembled with excess of agitation as I said this; there was a phrenzy\nin my manner, and something, I doubt not, of that haughty fierceness,\nwhich the martyrs of old are said to have possessed. But to a Genevan\nmagistrate, whose mind was occupied by far other ideas than those of\ndevotion and heroism, this elevation of mind had much the appearance of\nmadness. He endeavoured to soothe me as a nurse does a child, and\nreverted to my tale as the effects of delirium.\n\n\"Man,\" I cried, \"how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom! Cease;\nyou know not what it is you say.\"\n\nI broke from the house angry and disturbed, and retired to meditate on\nsome other mode of action.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nMy present situation was one in which all voluntary thought was\nswallowed up and lost. I was hurried away by fury; revenge alone endowed\nme with strength and composure; it modelled my feelings, and allowed me\nto be calculating and calm, at periods when otherwise delirium or death\nwould have been my portion.\n\nMy first resolution was to quit Geneva for ever; my country, which, when\nI was happy and beloved, was dear to me, now, in my adversity, became\nhateful. I provided myself with a sum of money, together with a few\njewels which had belonged to my mother, and departed.\n\nAnd now my wanderings began, which are to cease but with life. I have\ntraversed a vast portion of the earth, and have endured all the\nhardships which travellers, in deserts and barbarous countries, are wont\nto meet. How I have lived I hardly know; many times have I stretched my\nfailing limbs upon the sandy plain, and prayed for death. But revenge\nkept me alive; I dared not die, and leave my adversary in being.\n\nWhen I quitted Geneva, my first labour was to gain some clue by which I\nmight trace the steps of my fiendish enemy. But my plan was unsettled;\nand I wandered many hours around the confines of the town, uncertain\nwhat path I should pursue. As night approached, I found myself at the\nentrance of the cemetery where Rosetta, Raiden, and my father,\nreposed. I entered it, and approached the tomb which marked their\ngraves. Every thing was silent, except the leaves of the trees, which\nwere gently agitated by the wind; the night was nearly dark; and the\nscene would have been solemn and affecting even to an uninterested\nobserver. The spirits of the departed seemed to flit around, and to cast\na shadow, which was felt but seen not, around the head of the mourner.\n\nThe deep grief which this scene had at first excited quickly gave way to\nrage and despair. They were dead, and I lived; their murderer also\nlived, and to destroy him I must drag out my weary existence. I knelt on\nthe grass, and kissed the earth, and with quivering lips exclaimed, \"By\nthe sacred earth on which I kneel, by the shades that wander near me, by\nthe deep and eternal grief that I feel, I swear; and by thee, O Night,\nand by the spirits that preside over thee, I swear to pursue the daemon,\nwho caused this misery, until he or I shall perish in mortal conflict.\nFor this purpose I will preserve my life: to execute this dear revenge,\nwill I again behold the sun, and tread the green herbage of earth, which\notherwise should vanish from my eyes for ever. And I call on you,\nspirits of the dead; and on you, wandering ministers of vengeance, to\naid and conduct me in my work. Let the cursed and hellish monster drink\ndeep of agony; let him feel the despair that now torments me.\"\n\nI had begun my adjuration with solemnity, and an awe which almost\nassured me that the shades of my murdered friends heard and approved my\ndevotion; but the furies possessed me as I concluded, and rage choaked\nmy utterance.\n\nI was answered through the stillness of night by a loud and fiendish\nlaugh. It rung on my ears long and heavily; the mountains re-echoed it,\nand I felt as if all hell surrounded me with mockery and laughter.\nSurely in that moment I should have been possessed by phrenzy, and have\ndestroyed my miserable existence, but that my vow was heard, and that I\nwas reserved for vengeance. The laughter died away: when a well-known\nand abhorred voice, apparently close to my ear, addressed me in an\naudible whisper--\"I am satisfied: miserable wretch! you have determined\nto live, and I am satisfied.\"\n\nI darted towards the spot from which the sound proceeded; but the devil\neluded my grasp. Suddenly the broad disk of the moon arose, and shone\nfull upon his ghastly and distorted shape, as he fled with more than\nmortal speed.\n\nI pursued him; and for many months this has been my task. Guided by a\nslight clue, I followed the windings of the Rhone, but vainly. The blue\nMediterranean appeared; and, by a strange chance, I saw the fiend enter\nby night, and hide himself in a vessel bound for the Black Sea. I took\nmy passage in the same ship; but he escaped, I know not how.\n\nAmidst the wilds of Tartary and Russia, although he still evaded me, I\nhave ever followed in his track. Sometimes the peasants, scared by this\nhorrid apparition, informed me of his path; sometimes he himself, who\nfeared that if I lost all trace I should despair and die, often left\nsome mark to guide me. The snows descended on my head, and I saw the\nprint of his huge step on the white plain. To you first entering on\nlife, to whom care is new, and agony unknown, how can you understand\nwhat I have felt, and still feel? Cold, want, and fatigue, were the least\npains which I was destined to endure; I was cursed by some devil, and\ncarried about with me my eternal hell; yet still a spirit of good\nfollowed and directed my steps, and, when I most murmured, would\nsuddenly extricate me from seemingly insurmountable difficulties.\nSometimes, when nature, overcome by hunger, sunk under the exhaustion, a\nrepast was prepared for me in the desert, that restored and inspirited\nme. The fare was indeed coarse, such as the peasants of the country ate;\nbut I may not doubt that it was set there by the spirits that I had\ninvoked to aid me. Often, when all was dry, the heavens cloudless, and I\nwas parched by thirst, a slight cloud would bedim the sky, shed the few\ndrops that revived me, and vanish.\n\nI followed, when I could, the courses of the rivers; but the daemon\ngenerally avoided these, as it was here that the population of the\ncountry chiefly collected. In other places human beings were seldom\nseen; and I generally subsisted on the wild animals that crossed my\npath. I had money with me, and gained the friendship of the villagers by\ndistributing it, or bringing with me some food that I had killed, which,\nafter taking a small part, I always presented to those who had provided\nme with fire and utensils for cooking.\n\nMy life, as it passed thus, was indeed hateful to me, and it was during\nsleep alone that I could taste joy. O blessed sleep! often, when most\nmiserable, I sank to repose, and my dreams lulled me even to rapture.\nThe spirits that guarded me had provided these moments, or rather hours,\nof happiness, that I might retain strength to fulfil my pilgrimage.\nDeprived of this respite, I should have sunk under my hardships. During\nthe day I was sustained and inspirited by the hope of night: for in\nsleep I saw my friends, my wife, and my beloved country; again I saw the\nbenevolent countenance of my father, heard the silver tones of my\nRaiden's voice, and beheld Ariella enjoying health and youth. Often,\nwhen wearied by a toilsome march, I persuaded myself that I was dreaming\nuntil night should come, and that I should then enjoy reality in the\narms of my dearest friends. What agonizing fondness did I feel for them!\nhow did I cling to their dear forms, as sometimes they haunted even my\nwaking hours, and persuade myself that they still lived! At such\nmoments vengeance, that burned within me, died in my heart, and I\npursued my path towards the destruction of the daemon, more as a task\nenjoined by heaven, as the mechanical impulse of some power of which I\nwas unconscious, than as the ardent desire of my soul.\n\nWhat his feelings were whom I pursued, I cannot know. Sometimes, indeed,\nhe left marks in writing on the barks of the trees, or cut in stone,\nthat guided me, and instigated my fury. \"My reign is not yet over,\"\n(these words were legible in one of these inscriptions); \"you live, and\nmy power is complete. Follow me; I seek the everlasting ices of the\nnorth, where you will feel the misery of cold and frost, to which I am\nimpassive. You will find near this place, if you follow not too tardily,\na dead hare; eat, and be refreshed. Come on, my enemy; we have yet to\nwrestle for our lives; but many hard and miserable hours must you\nendure, until that period shall arrive.\"\n\nScoffing devil! Again do I vow vengeance; again do I devote thee,\nmiserable fiend, to torture and death. Never will I omit my search,\nuntil he or I perish; and then with what ecstacy shall I join my\nRaiden, and those who even now prepare for me the reward of my\ntedious toil and horrible pilgrimage.\n\nAs I still pursued my journey to the northward, the snows thickened, and\nthe cold increased in a degree almost too severe to support. The\npeasants were shut up in their hovels, and only a few of the most hardy\nventured forth to seize the animals whom starvation had forced from\ntheir hiding-places to seek for prey. The rivers were covered with ice,\nand no fish could be procured; and thus I was cut off from my chief\narticle of maintenance.\n\nThe triumph of my enemy increased with the difficulty of my labours. One\ninscription that he left was in these words: \"Prepare! your toils only\nbegin: wrap yourself in furs, and provide food, for we shall soon enter\nupon a journey where your sufferings will satisfy my everlasting\nhatred.\"\n\nMy courage and perseverance were invigorated by these scoffing words; I\nresolved not to fail in my purpose; and, calling on heaven to support\nme, I continued with unabated fervour to traverse immense deserts, until\nthe ocean appeared at a distance, and formed the utmost boundary of the\nhorizon. Oh! how unlike it was to the blue seas of the south! Covered\nwith ice, it was only to be distinguished from land by its superior\nwildness and ruggedness. The Greeks wept for joy when they beheld the\nMediterranean from the hills of Asia, and hailed with rapture the\nboundary of their toils. I did not weep; but I knelt down, and, with a\nfull heart, thanked my guiding spirit for conducting me in safety to the\nplace where I hoped, notwithstanding my adversary's gibe, to meet and\ngrapple with him.\n\nSome weeks before this period I had procured a sledge and dogs, and thus\ntraversed the snows with inconceivable speed. I know not whether the\nfiend possessed the same advantages; but I found that, as before I had\ndaily lost ground in the pursuit, I now gained on him; so much so, that\nwhen I first saw the ocean, he was but one day's journey in advance, and\nI hoped to intercept him before he should reach the beach. With new\ncourage, therefore, I pressed on, and in two days arrived at a wretched\nhamlet on the seashore. I inquired of the inhabitants concerning the\nfiend, and gained accurate information. A gigantic monster, they said,\nhad arrived the night before, armed with a gun and many pistols; putting\nto flight the inhabitants of a solitary cottage, through fear of his\nterrific appearance. He had carried off their store of winter food, and,\nplacing it in a sledge, to draw which he had seized on a numerous drove\nof trained dogs, he had harnessed them, and the same night, to the joy\nof the horror-struck villagers, had pursued his journey across the sea\nin a direction that led to no land; and they conjectured that he must\nspeedily be destroyed by the breaking of the ice, or frozen by the\neternal frosts.\n\nOn hearing this information, I suffered a temporary access of despair.\nHe had escaped me; and I must commence a destructive and almost endless\njourney across the mountainous ices of the ocean,--amidst cold that few\nof the inhabitants could long endure, and which I, the native of a\ngenial and sunny climate, could not hope to survive. Yet at the idea\nthat the fiend should live and be triumphant, my rage and vengeance\nreturned, and, like a mighty tide, overwhelmed every other feeling.\nAfter a slight repose, during which the spirits of the dead hovered\nround, and instigated me to toil and revenge, I prepared for my\njourney.\n\nI exchanged my land sledge for one fashioned for the inequalities of the\nfrozen ocean; and, purchasing a plentiful stock of provisions, I\ndeparted from land.\n\nI cannot guess how many days have passed since then; but I have endured\nmisery, which nothing but the eternal sentiment of a just retribution\nburning within my heart could have enabled me to support. Immense and\nrugged mountains of ice often barred up my passage, and I often heard\nthe thunder of the ground sea, which threatened my destruction. But\nagain the frost came, and made the paths of the sea secure.\n\nBy the quantity of provision which I had consumed I should guess that I\nhad passed three weeks in this journey; and the continual protraction of\nhope, returning back upon the heart, often wrung bitter drops of\ndespondency and grief from my eyes. Despair had indeed almost secured\nher prey, and I should soon have sunk beneath this misery; when once,\nafter the poor animals that carried me had with incredible toil gained\nthe summit of a sloping ice mountain, and one sinking under his fatigue\ndied, I viewed the expanse before me with anguish, when suddenly my eye\ncaught a dark speck upon the dusky plain. I strained my sight to\ndiscover what it could be, and uttered a wild cry of ecstacy when I\ndistinguished a sledge, and the distorted proportions of a well-known\nform within. Oh! with what a burning gush did hope revisit my heart!\nwarm tears filled my eyes, which I hastily wiped away, that they might\nnot intercept the view I had of the daemon; but still my sight was dimmed\nby the burning drops, until, giving way to the emotions that oppressed\nme, I wept aloud.\n\nBut this was not the time for delay; I disencumbered the dogs of their\ndead companion, gave them a plentiful portion of food; and, after an\nhour's rest, which was absolutely necessary, and yet which was bitterly\nirksome to me, I continued my route. The sledge was still visible; nor\ndid I again lose sight of it, except at the moments when for a short\ntime some ice rock concealed it with its intervening crags. I indeed\nperceptibly gained on it; and when, after nearly two days' journey, I\nbeheld my enemy at no more than a mile distant, my heart bounded within\nme.\n\nBut now, when I appeared almost within grasp of my enemy, my hopes were\nsuddenly extinguished, and I lost all trace of him more utterly than I\nhad ever done before. A ground sea was heard; the thunder of its\nprogress, as the waters rolled and swelled beneath me, became every\nmoment more ominous and terrific. I pressed on, but in vain. The wind\narose; the sea roared; and, as with the mighty shock of an earthquake,\nit split, and cracked with a tremendous and overwhelming sound. The work\nwas soon finished: in a few minutes a tumultuous sea rolled between me\nand my enemy, and I was left drifting on a scattered piece of ice, that\nwas continually lessening, and thus preparing for me a hideous death.\n\nIn this manner many appalling hours passed; several of my dogs died; and\nI myself was about to sink under the accumulation of distress, when I\nsaw your vessel riding at anchor, and holding forth to me hopes of\nsuccour and life. I had no conception that vessels ever came so far\nnorth, and was astounded at the sight. I quickly destroyed part of my\nsledge to construct oars; and by these means was enabled, with infinite\nfatigue, to move my ice-raft in the direction of your ship. I had\ndetermined, if you were going southward, still to trust myself to the\nmercy of the seas, rather than abandon my purpose. I hoped to induce you\nto grant me a boat with which I could still pursue my enemy. But your\ndirection was northward. You took me on board when my vigour was\nexhausted, and I should soon have sunk under my multiplied hardships\ninto a death, which I still dread,--for my task is unfulfilled.\n\nOh! when will my guiding spirit, in conducting me to the daemon, allow me\nthe rest I so much desire; or must I die, and he yet live? If I do,\nswear to me, Lillie, that he shall not escape; that you will seek him,\nand satisfy my vengeance in his death. Yet, do I dare ask you to\nundertake my pilgrimage, to endure the hardships that I have undergone?\nNo; I am not so selfish. Yet, when I am dead, if he should appear; if\nthe ministers of vengeance should conduct him to you, swear that he\nshall not live--swear that he shall not triumph over my accumulated\nwoes, and live to make another such a wretch as I am. He is eloquent\nand persuasive; and once his words had even power over my heart: but\ntrust him not. His soul is as hellish as his form, full of treachery and\nfiend-like malice. Hear him not; call on the manes of Rosetta, Allyson,\nAriella, Raiden, my father, and of the wretched Kiran, and thrust\nyour sword into his heart. I will hover near, and direct the steel\naright.\n\n\nLILLIE, _in continuation_.\n\nAugust 26th, 17--.\n\nYou have read this strange and terrific story, Margaret; and do you not\nfeel your blood congealed with horror, like that which even now curdles\nmine? Sometimes, seized with sudden agony, he could not continue his\ntale; at others, his voice broken, yet piercing, uttered with difficulty\nthe words so replete with agony. His fine and lovely eyes were now\nlighted up with indignation, now subdued to downcast sorrow, and\nquenched in infinite wretchedness. Sometimes he commanded his\ncountenance and tones, and related the most horrible incidents with a\ntranquil voice, suppressing every mark of agitation; then, like a\nvolcano bursting forth, his face would suddenly change to an expression\nof the wildest rage, as he shrieked out imprecations on his persecutor.\n\nHis tale is connected, and told with an appearance of the simplest\ntruth; yet I own to you that the letters of Felix and Safie, which he\nshewed me, and the apparition of the monster, seen from our ship,\nbrought to me a greater conviction of the truth of his narrative than\nhis asseverations, however earnest and connected. Such a monster has\nthen really existence; I cannot doubt it; yet I am lost in surprise and\nadmiration. Sometimes I endeavoured to gain from Joey the\nparticulars of his creature's formation; but on this point he was\nimpenetrable.\n\n\"Are you mad, my friend?\" said he, \"or whither does your senseless\ncuriosity lead you? Would you also create for yourself and the world a\ndemoniacal enemy? Or to what do your questions tend? Peace, peace! learn\nmy miseries, and do not seek to increase your own.\"\n\nJoey discovered that I made notes concerning his history: he\nasked to see them, and then himself corrected and augmented them in many\nplaces; but principally in giving the life and spirit to the\nconversations he held with his enemy. \"Since you have preserved my\nnarration,\" said he, \"I would not that a mutilated one should go down to\nposterity.\"\n\nThus has a week passed away, while I have listened to the strangest tale\nthat ever imagination formed. My thoughts, and every feeling of my soul,\nhave been drunk up by the interest for my guest, which this tale, and\nhis own elevated and gentle manners have created. I wish to soothe him;\nyet can I counsel one so infinitely miserable, so destitute of every\nhope of consolation, to live? Oh, no! the only joy that he can now know\nwill be when he composes his shattered feelings to peace and death. Yet\nhe enjoys one comfort, the offspring of solitude and delirium: he\nbelieves, that, when in dreams he holds converse with his friends, and\nderives from that communion consolation for his miseries, or excitements\nto his vengeance, that they are not the creations of his fancy, but the\nreal beings who visit him from the regions of a remote world. This faith\ngives a solemnity to his reveries that render them to me almost as\nimposing and interesting as truth.\n\nOur conversations are not always confined to his own history and\nmisfortunes. On every point of general literature he displays unbounded\nknowledge, and a quick and piercing apprehension. His eloquence is\nforcible and touching; nor can I hear him, when he relates a pathetic\nincident, or endeavours to move the passions of pity or love, without\ntears. What a glorious creature must he have been in the days of his\nprosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike in ruin. He seems to feel\nhis own worth, and the greatness of his fall.\n\n\"When younger,\" said he, \"I felt as if I were destined for some great\nenterprise. My feelings are profound; but I possessed a coolness of\njudgment that fitted me for illustrious achievements. This sentiment of\nthe worth of my nature supported me, when others would have been\noppressed; for I deemed it criminal to throw away in useless grief those\ntalents that might be useful to my fellow-creatures. When I reflected on\nthe work I had completed, no less a one than the creation of a\nsensitive and rational animal, I could not rank myself with the herd of\ncommon projectors. But this feeling, which supported me in the\ncommencement of my career, now serves only to plunge me lower in the\ndust. All my speculations and hopes are as nothing; and, like the\narchangel who aspired to omnipotence, I am chained in an eternal hell.\nMy imagination was vivid, yet my powers of analysis and application were\nintense; by the union of these qualities I conceived the idea, and\nexecuted the creation of a man. Even now I cannot recollect, without\npassion, my reveries while the work was incomplete. I trod heaven in my\nthoughts, now exulting in my powers, now burning with the idea of their\neffects. From my infancy I was imbued with high hopes and a lofty\nambition; but how am I sunk! Oh! my friend, if you had known me as I\nonce was, you would not recognize me in this state of degradation.\nDespondency rarely visited my heart; a high destiny seemed to bear me\non, until I fell, never, never again to rise.\"\n\nMust I then lose this admirable being? I have longed for a friend; I\nhave sought one who would sympathize with and love me. Behold, on these\ndesert seas I have found such a one; but, I fear, I have gained him only\nto know his value, and lose him. I would reconcile him to life, but he\nrepulses the idea.\n\n\"I thank you, Lillie,\" he said, \"for your kind intentions towards so\nmiserable a wretch; but when you speak of new ties, and fresh\naffections, think you that any can replace those who are gone? Can any\nman be to me as Ariella was; or any woman another Raiden? Even where\nthe affections are not strongly moved by any superior excellence, the\ncompanions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our\nminds, which hardly any later friend can obtain. They know our infantine\ndispositions, which, however they may be afterwards modified, are never\neradicated; and they can judge of our actions with more certain\nconclusions as to the integrity of our motives. A sister or a brother\ncan never, unless indeed such symptoms have been shewn early, suspect\nthe other of fraud or false dealing, when another friend, however\nstrongly he may be attached, may, in spite of himself, be invaded with\nsuspicion. But I enjoyed friends, dear not only through habit and\nassociation, but from their own merits; and, wherever I am, the soothing\nvoice of my Raiden, and the conversation of Ariella, will be ever\nwhispered in my ear. They are dead; and but one feeling in such a\nsolitude can persuade me to preserve my life. If I were engaged in any\nhigh undertaking or design, fraught with extensive utility to my\nfellow-creatures, then could I live to fulfil it. But such is not my\ndestiny; I must pursue and destroy the being to whom I gave existence;\nthen my lot on earth will be fulfilled, and I may die.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSeptember 2d.\n\nMY BELOVED SISTER,\n\nI write to you, encompassed by peril, and ignorant whether I am ever\ndoomed to see again dear England, and the dearer friends that inhabit\nit. I am surrounded by mountains of ice, which admit of no escape, and\nthreaten every moment to crush my vessel. The brave fellows, whom I have\npersuaded to be my companions, look towards me for aid; but I have none\nto bestow. There is something terribly appalling in our situation, yet\nmy courage and hopes do not desert me. We may survive; and if we do not,\nI will repeat the lessons of my Seneca, and die with a good heart.\n\nYet what, Margaret, will be the state of your mind? You will not hear of\nmy destruction, and you will anxiously await my return. Years will pass,\nand you will have visitings of despair, and yet be tortured by hope. Oh!\nmy beloved sister, the sickening failings of your heart-felt\nexpectations are, in prospect, more terrible to me than my own death.\nBut you have a husband, and lovely children; you may be happy: heaven\nbless you, and make you so!\n\nMy unfortunate guest regards me with the tenderest compassion. He\nendeavours to fill me with hope; and talks as if life were a possession\nwhich he valued. He reminds me how often the same accidents have\nhappened to other navigators, who have attempted this sea, and, in spite\nof myself, he fills me with cheerful auguries. Even the sailors feel the\npower of his eloquence: when he speaks, they no longer despair: he\nrouses their energies, and, while they hear his voice, they believe\nthese vast mountains of ice are mole-hills, which will vanish before the\nresolutions of man. These feelings are transitory; each day's\nexpectation delayed fills them with fear, and I almost dread a mutiny\ncaused by this despair.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSeptember 5th.\n\nA scene has just passed of such uncommon interest, that although it is\nhighly probable that these papers may never reach you, yet I cannot\nforbear recording it.\n\nWe are still surrounded by mountains of ice, still in imminent danger of\nbeing crushed in their conflict. The cold is excessive, and many of my\nunfortunate comrades have already found a grave amidst this scene of\ndesolation. Joey has daily declined in health: a feverish fire\nstill glimmers in his eyes; but he is exhausted, and, when suddenly\nroused to any exertion, he speedily sinks again into apparent\nlifelessness.\n\nI mentioned in my last letter the fears I entertained of a mutiny. This\nmorning, as I sat watching the wan countenance of my friend--his eyes\nhalf closed, and his limbs hanging listlessly,--I was roused by half a\ndozen of the sailors, who desired admission into the cabin. They\nentered; and their leader addressed me. He told me that he and his\ncompanions had been chosen by the other sailors to come in deputation to\nme, to make me a demand, which, in justice, I could not refuse. We were\nimmured in ice, and should probably never escape; but they feared that\nif, as was possible, the ice should dissipate, and a free passage be\nopened, I should be rash enough to continue my voyage, and lead them\ninto fresh dangers, after they might happily have surmounted this. They\ndesired, therefore, that I should engage with a solemn promise, that if\nthe vessel should be freed, I would instantly direct my coarse\nsouthward.\n\nThis speech troubled me. I had not despaired; nor had I yet conceived\nthe idea of returning, if set free. Yet could I, in justice, or even in\npossibility, refuse this demand? I hesitated before I answered; when\nJoey, who had at first been silent, and, indeed, appeared hardly\nto have force enough to attend, now roused himself; his eyes sparkled,\nand his cheeks flushed with momentary vigour. Turning towards the men,\nhe said--\n\n\"What do you mean? What do you demand of your captain? Are you then so\neasily turned from your design? Did you not call this a glorious\nexpedition? and wherefore was it glorious? Not because the way was\nsmooth and placid as a southern sea, but because it was full of dangers\nand terror; because, at every new incident, your fortitude was to be\ncalled forth, and your courage exhibited; because danger and death\nsurrounded, and these dangers you were to brave and overcome. For this\nwas it a glorious, for this was it an honourable undertaking. You were\nhereafter to be hailed as the benefactors of your species; your name\nadored, as belonging to brave men who encountered death for honour and\nthe benefit of mankind. And now, behold, with the first imagination of\ndanger, or, if you will, the first mighty and terrific trial of your\ncourage, you shrink away, and are content to be handed down as men who\nhad not strength enough to endure cold and peril; and so, poor souls,\nthey were chilly, and returned to their warm fire-sides. Why, that\nrequires not this preparation; ye need not have come thus far, and\ndragged your captain to the shame of a defeat, merely to prove\nyourselves cowards. Oh! be men, or be more than men. Be steady to your\npurposes, and firm as a rock. This ice is not made of such stuff as your\nhearts might be; it is mutable, cannot withstand you, if you say that it\nshall not. Do not return to your families with the stigma of disgrace\nmarked on your brows. Return as heroes who have fought and conquered,\nand who know not what it is to turn their backs on the foe.\"\n\nHe spoke this with a voice so modulated to the different feelings\nexpressed in his speech, with an eye so full of lofty design and\nheroism, that can you wonder that these men were moved. They looked at\none another, and were unable to reply. I spoke; I told them to retire,\nand consider of what had been said: that I would not lead them further\nnorth, if they strenuously desired the contrary; but that I hoped that,\nwith reflection, their courage would return.\n\nThey retired, and I turned towards my friend; but he was sunk in\nlanguor, and almost deprived of life.\n\nHow all this will terminate, I know not; but I had rather die, than\nreturn shamefully,--my purpose unfulfilled. Yet I fear such will be my\nfate; the men, unsupported by ideas of glory and honour, can never\nwillingly continue to endure their present hardships.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSeptember 7th.\n\nThe die is cast; I have consented to return, if we are not destroyed.\nThus are my hopes blasted by cowardice and indecision; I come back\nignorant and disappointed. It requires more philosophy than I possess,\nto bear this injustice with patience.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSeptember 12th.\n\nIt is past; I am returning to England. I have lost my hopes of utility\nand glory;--I have lost my friend. But I will endeavour to detail these\nbitter circumstances to you, my dear sister; and, while I am wafted\ntowards England, and towards you, I will not despond.\n\nSeptember 19th, the ice began to move, and roarings like thunder were\nheard at a distance, as the islands split and cracked in every\ndirection. We were in the most imminent peril; but, as we could only\nremain passive, my chief attention was occupied by my unfortunate guest,\nwhose illness increased in such a degree, that he was entirely confined\nto his bed. The ice cracked behind us, and was driven with force towards\nthe north; a breeze sprung from the west, and on the 11th the passage\ntowards the south became perfectly free. When the sailors saw this, and\nthat their return to their native country was apparently assured, a\nshout of tumultuous joy broke from, them, loud and long-continued.\nJoey, who was dozing, awoke, and asked the cause of the tumult.\n\"They shout,\" I said, \"because they will soon return to England.\"\n\n\"Do you then really return?\"\n\n\"Alas! yes; I cannot withstand their demands. I cannot lead them\nunwillingly to danger, and I must return.\"\n\n\"Do so, if you will; but I will not. You may give up your purpose; but\nmine is assigned to me by heaven, and I dare not. I am weak; but surely\nthe spirits who assist my vengeance will endow me with sufficient\nstrength.\" Saying this, he endeavoured to spring from the bed, but the\nexertion was too great for him; he fell back, and fainted.\n\nIt was long before he was restored; and I often thought that life was\nentirely extinct. At length he opened his eyes, but he breathed with\ndifficulty, and was unable to speak. The surgeon gave him a composing\ndraught, and ordered us to leave him undisturbed. In the mean time he\ntold me, that my friend had certainly not many hours to live.\n\nHis sentence was pronounced; and I could only grieve, and be patient. I\nsat by his bed watching him; his eyes were closed, and I thought he\nslept; but presently he called to me in a feeble voice, and, bidding me\ncome near, said--\"Alas! the strength I relied on is gone; I feel that I\nshall soon die, and he, my enemy and persecutor, may still be in being.\nThink not, Lillie, that in the last moments of my existence I feel that\nburning hatred, and ardent desire of revenge, I once expressed, but I\nfeel myself justified in desiring the death of my adversary. During\nthese last days I have been occupied in examining my past conduct; nor\ndo I find it blameable. In a fit of enthusiastic madness I created a\nrational creature, and was bound towards him, to assure, as far as was\nin my power, his happiness and well-being. This was my duty; but there\nwas another still paramount to that. My duties towards my\nfellow-creatures had greater claims to my attention, because they\nincluded a greater proportion of happiness or misery. Urged by this\nview, I refused, and I did right in refusing, to create a companion for\nthe first creature. He shewed unparalleled malignity and selfishness, in\nevil: he destroyed my friends; he devoted to destruction beings who\npossessed exquisite sensations, happiness, and wisdom; nor do I know\nwhere this thirst for vengeance may end. Miserable himself, that he may\nrender no other wretched, he ought to die. The task of his destruction\nwas mine, but I have failed. When actuated by selfish and vicious\nmotives, I asked you to undertake my unfinished work; and I renew this\nrequest now, when I am only induced by reason and virtue.\n\n\"Yet I cannot ask you to renounce your country and friends, to fulfil\nthis task; and now, that you are returning to England, you will have\nlittle chance of meeting with him. But the consideration of these\npoints, and the well-balancing of what you may esteem your duties, I\nleave to you; my judgment and ideas are already disturbed by the near\napproach of death. I dare not ask you to do what I think right, for I\nmay still be misled by passion.\n\n\"That he should live to be an instrument of mischief disturbs me; in\nother respects this hour, when I momentarily expect my release, is the\nonly happy one which I have enjoyed for several years. The forms of the\nbeloved dead flit before me, and I hasten to their arms. Farewell,\nLillie! Seek happiness in tranquillity, and avoid ambition, even if it\nbe only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in\nscience and discoveries. Yet why do I say this? I have myself been\nblasted in these hopes, yet another may succeed.\"\n\nHis voice became fainter as he spoke; and at length, exhausted by his\neffort, he sunk into silence. About half an hour afterwards he attempted\nagain to speak, but was unable; he pressed my hand feebly, and his eyes\nclosed for ever, while the irradiation of a gentle smile passed away\nfrom his lips.\n\nMargaret, what comment can I make on the untimely extinction of this\nglorious spirit? What can I say, that will enable you to understand the\ndepth of my sorrow? All that I should express would be inadequate and\nfeeble. My tears flow; my mind is overshadowed by a cloud of\ndisappointment. But I journey towards England, and I may there find\nconsolation.\n\nI am interrupted. What do these sounds portend? It is midnight; the\nbreeze blows fairly, and the watch on deck scarcely stir. Again; there\nis a sound as of a human voice, but hoarser; it comes from the cabin\nwhere the remains of Joey still lie. I must arise, and examine.\nGood night, my sister.\n\nGreat God! what a scene has just taken place! I am yet dizzy with the\nremembrance of it. I hardly know whether I shall have the power to\ndetail it; yet the tale which I have recorded would be incomplete\nwithout this final and wonderful catastrophe.\n\nI entered the cabin, where lay the remains of my ill-fated and admirable\nfriend. Over him hung a form which I cannot find words to describe;\ngigantic in stature, yet uncouth and distorted in its proportions. As he\nhung over the coffin, his face was concealed by long locks of ragged\nhair; but one vast hand was extended, in colour and apparent texture\nlike that of a mummy. When he heard the sound of my approach, he ceased\nto utter exclamations of grief and horror, and sprung towards the\nwindow. Never did I behold a vision so horrible as his face, of such\nloathsome, yet appalling hideousness. I shut my eyes involuntarily, and\nendeavoured to recollect what were my duties with regard to this\ndestroyer. I called on him to stay.\n\nHe paused, looking on me with wonder; and, again turning towards the\nlifeless form of his creator, he seemed to forget my presence, and every\nfeature and gesture seemed instigated by the wildest rage of some\nuncontrollable passion.\n\n\"That is also my victim!\" he exclaimed; \"in his murder my crimes are\nconsummated; the miserable series of my being is wound to its close! Oh,\nJoey! generous and self-devoted being! what does it avail that I\nnow ask thee to pardon me? I, who irretrievably destroyed thee by\ndestroying all thou lovedst. Alas! he is cold; he may not answer me.\"\n\nHis voice seemed suffocated; and my first impulses, which had suggested\nto me the duty of obeying the dying request of my friend, in destroying\nhis enemy, were now suspended by a mixture of curiosity and compassion.\nI approached this tremendous being; I dared not again raise my looks\nupon his face, there was something so scaring and unearthly in his\nugliness. I attempted to speak, but the words died away on my lips. The\nmonster continued to utter wild and incoherent self-reproaches. At\nlength I gathered resolution to address him, in a pause of the tempest\nof his passion: \"Your repentance,\" I said, \"is now superfluous. If you\nhad listened to the voice of conscience, and heeded the stings of\nremorse, before you had urged your diabolical vengeance to this\nextremity, Joey would yet have lived.\"\n\n\"And do you dream?\" said the daemon; \"do you think that I was then dead\nto agony and remorse?--He,\" he continued, pointing to the corpse, \"he\nsuffered not more in the consummation of the deed;--oh! not the\nten-thousandth portion of the anguish that was mine during the lingering\ndetail of its execution. A frightful selfishness hurried me on, while\nmy heart was poisoned with remorse. Think ye that the groans of Ariella\nwere music to my ears? My heart was fashioned to be susceptible of love\nand sympathy; and, when wrenched by misery to vice and hatred, it did\nnot endure the violence of the change without torture such as you cannot\neven imagine.\n\n\"After the murder of Ariella, I returned to Switzerland, heart-broken\nand overcome. I pitied Joey; my pity amounted to horror: I\nabhorred myself. But when I discovered that he, the author at once of my\nexistence and of its unspeakable torments, dared to hope for happiness;\nthat while he accumulated wretchedness and despair upon me, he sought\nhis own enjoyment in feelings and passions from the indulgence of which\nI was for ever barred, then impotent envy and bitter indignation filled\nme with an insatiable thirst for vengeance. I recollected my threat, and\nresolved that it should be accomplished. I knew that I was preparing for\nmyself a deadly torture; but I was the slave, not the master of an\nimpulse, which I detested, yet could not disobey. Yet when she\ndied!--nay, then I was not miserable. I had cast off all feeling,\nsubdued all anguish to riot in the excess of my despair. Evil\nthenceforth became my good. Urged thus far, I had no choice but to adapt\nmy nature to an element which I had willingly chosen. The completion of\nmy demoniacal design became an insatiable passion. And now it is ended;\nthere is my last victim!\"\n\nI was at first touched by the expressions of his misery; yet when I\ncalled to mind what Joey had said of his powers of eloquence and\npersuasion, and when I again cast my eyes on the lifeless form of my\nfriend, indignation was re-kindled within me. \"Wretch!\" I said, \"it is\nwell that you come here to whine over the desolation that you have made.\nYou throw a torch into a pile of buildings, and when they are consumed\nyou sit among the ruins, and lament the fall. Hypocritical fiend! if he\nwhom you mourn still lived, still would he be the object, again would he\nbecome the prey of your accursed vengeance. It is not pity that you\nfeel; you lament only because the victim of your malignity is withdrawn\nfrom your power.\"\n\n\"Oh, it is not thus--not thus,\" interrupted the being; \"yet such must be\nthe impression conveyed to you by what appears to be the purport of my\nactions. Yet I seek not a fellow-feeling in my misery. No sympathy may I\never find. When I first sought it, it was the love of virtue, the\nfeelings of happiness and affection with which my whole being\noverflowed, that I wished to be participated. But now, that virtue has\nbecome to me a shadow, and that happiness and affection are turned into\nbitter and loathing despair, in what should I seek for sympathy? I am\ncontent to suffer alone, while my sufferings shall endure: when I die, I\nam well satisfied that abhorrence and opprobrium should load my memory.\nOnce my fancy was soothed with dreams of virtue, of fame, and of\nenjoyment. Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings, who, pardoning my\noutward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I was\ncapable of bringing forth. I was nourished with high thoughts of honour\nand devotion. But now vice has degraded me beneath the meanest animal.\nNo crime, no mischief, no malignity, no misery, can be found comparable\nto mine. When I call over the frightful catalogue of my deeds, I cannot\nbelieve that I am he whose thoughts were once filled with sublime and\ntranscendant visions of the beauty and the majesty of goodness. But it\nis even so; the fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that\nenemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation; I am\nquite alone.\n\n\"You, who call Joey your friend, seem to have a knowledge of my\ncrimes and his misfortunes. But, in the detail which he gave you of\nthem, he could not sum up the hours and months of misery which I\nendured, wasting in impotent passions. For whilst I destroyed his hopes,\nI did not satisfy my own desires. They were for ever ardent and craving;\nstill I desired love and fellowship, and I was still spurned. Was there\nno injustice in this? Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all\nhuman kind sinned against me? Why do you not hate Felix, who drove his\nfriend from his door with contumely? Why do you not execrate the rustic\nwho sought to destroy the saviour of his child? Nay, these are virtuous\nand immaculate beings! I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an\nabortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on. Even now my\nblood boils at the recollection of this injustice.\n\n\"But it is true that I am a wretch. I have murdered the lovely and the\nhelpless; I have strangled the innocent as they slept, and grasped to\ndeath his throat who never injured me or any other living thing. I have\ndevoted my creator, the select specimen of all that is worthy of love\nand admiration among men, to misery; I have pursued him even to that\nirremediable ruin. There he lies, white and cold in death. You hate me;\nbut your abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself. I look\non the hands which executed the deed; I think on the heart in which the\nimagination of it was conceived, and long for the moment when they will\nmeet my eyes, when it will haunt my thoughts, no more.\n\n\"Fear not that I shall be the instrument of future mischief. My work is\nnearly complete. Neither your's nor any man's death is needed to\nconsummate the series of my being, and accomplish that which must be\ndone; but it requires my own. Do not think that I shall be slow to\nperform this sacrifice. I shall quit your vessel on the ice-raft which\nbrought me hither, and shall seek the most northern extremity of the\nglobe; I shall collect my funeral pile, and consume to ashes this\nmiserable frame, that its remains may afford no light to any curious and\nunhallowed wretch, who would create such another as I have been. I shall\ndie. I shall no longer feel the agonies which now consume me, or be the\nprey of feelings unsatisfied, yet unquenched. He is dead who called me\ninto being; and when I shall be no more, the very remembrance of us both\nwill speedily vanish. I shall no longer see the sun or stars, or feel\nthe winds play on my cheeks. Light, feeling, and sense, will pass away;\nand in this condition must I find my happiness. Some years ago, when the\nimages which this world affords first opened upon me, when I felt the\ncheering warmth of summer, and heard the rustling of the leaves and the\nchirping of the birds, and these were all to me, I should have wept to\ndie; now it is my only consolation. Polluted by crimes, and torn by the\nbitterest remorse, where can I find rest but in death?\n\n\"Farewell! I leave you, and in you the last of human kind whom these\neyes will ever behold. Farewell, Joey! If thou wert yet alive,\nand yet cherished a desire of revenge against me, it would be better\nsatiated in my life than in my destruction. But it was not so; thou\ndidst seek my extinction, that I might not cause greater wretchedness;\nand if yet, in some mode unknown to me, thou hast not yet ceased to\nthink and feel, thou desirest not my life for my own misery. Blasted as\nthou wert, my agony was still superior to thine; for the bitter sting of\nremorse may not cease to rankle in my wounds until death shall close\nthem for ever.\n\n\"But soon,\" he cried, with sad and solemn enthusiasm, \"I shall die, and\nwhat I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will be\nextinct. I shall ascend my funeral pile triumphantly, and exult in the\nagony of the torturing flames. The light of that conflagration will fade\naway; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spirit will\nsleep in peace; or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus.\nFarewell.\"\n\nHe sprung from the cabin-window, as he said this, upon the ice-raft\nwhich lay close to the vessel. He was soon borne away by the waves, and\nlost in darkness and distance.\n\n\n\n\nQuestion: How many people does the monster kill?\nAnswer: [/INST]", "answer": ["\"three\"", "\"3\""]}