It was eight o'clock when we
landed; we walked for a short
time on the shore enjoying the
transitory light, and then retired
to the inn and contemplated the
lovely scene of waters, woods,
and mountains, obscured in darkness,
yet still displaying their black
outlines.
The wind, which had fallen
in the south, now rose with great
violence in the west. The moon
had reached her summit in the
heavens and was beginning to
descend; the clouds swept across
it swifter than the flight of
the vulture and dimmed her rays,
while the lake reflected the
scene of the busy heavens, rendered
still busier by the restless
waves that were beginning to
rise. Suddenly a heavy storm
of rain descended.
I had been calm during the
day; but so soon as night obscured
the shapes of objects, a thousand
fears arose in my mind. I was
anxious and watchful, while my
right hand grasped a pistol which
was hidden in my bosom; every
sound terrified me; but I resolved
that I would sell my life dearly,
and not shrink from the conflict
until my own life, or that of
my adversary, was extinguished.
Elizabeth observed
my agitation for some time
in timid and fearful
silence; but there was something
in my glance which communicated
terror to her, and trembling
she asked, "What is it that agitates
you, my dear Victor? What is
it you fear?"
"Oh! peace, peace, my love," replied
I; "this night and all will be
safe: but this night is dreadful,
very dreadful."
I passed an hour in this state
of mind, when suddenly I reflected
how fearful the combat which
I momentarily expected would
be to my wife, and I earnestly
entreated her to retire, resolving
not to join her until I had obtained
some knowledge as to the situation
of my enemy.
She left me, and I continued
some time walking up and down
the passages of the house, and
inspecting every corner that
might afford a retreat to my
adversary. But I discovered no
trace of him, and was beginning
to conjecture that some fortunate
chance had intervened to prevent
the execution of his menaces,
when suddenly I heard a shrill
and dreadful scream. It came
from the room into which Elizabeth
had retired. As I heard it, the
whole truth rushed into my mind,
my arms dropped, the motion of
every muscle and fibre was suspended;
I could feel the blood trickling
in my veins and tingling in the
extremities of my limbs. This
state lasted but for an instant;
the scream was repeated, and
I rushed into the room.
Great God! why did I not then
expire! Why am I here to relate
the destruction of the best hope
and the purest creature of earth?
She was there, lifeless and inanimate,
thrown across the bed, her head
hanging down, and her pale and
distorted features half covered
by her hair. Everywhere I turn
I see the same figure--her bloodless
arms and relaxed form flung by
the murderer on its bridal bier.
Could I behold this and live?
Alas! life is obstinate and clings
closest where it is most hated.
For a moment only did I lose
recollection; I fell senseless
on the ground.
When I recovered, I found myself
surrounded by the people of the
inn; their countenances expressed
a breathless terror: but the
horror of others appeared only
as a mockery, a shadow of the
feelings that oppressed me. I
escaped from them to the room
where lay the body of Elizabeth,
my love, my wife, so lately living,
so dear, so worthy. She had been
moved from the posture in which
I had first beheld her; and now,
as she lay, her head upon her
arm, and a handkerchief thrown
across her face and neck, I might
have supposed her asleep. I rushed
towards her, and embraced her
with ardour; but the deadly languor
and coldness of the limbs told
me that what I now held in my
arms had ceased to be the Elizabeth
whom I had loved and cherished.
The murderous mark of the fiend's
grasp was on her neck, and the
breath had ceased to issue from
her lips.
While I still hung over her
in the agony of despair, I happened
to look up. The windows of the
room had before been darkened,
and I felt a kind of panic on
seeing the pale yellow light
of the moon illuminate the chamber.
The shutters had been thrown
back; and, with a sensation of
horror not to be described, I
saw at the open window a figure
the most hideous and abhorred.
A grin was on the face of the
monster; he seemed to jeer as
with his fiendish finger he pointed
towards the corpse of my wife.
I rushed towards the window and,
drawing a pistol from my bosom,
fired; but he eluded me, leaped
from his station, and, running
with the swiftness of lightning,
plunged into the lake.
The report of the pistol brought
a crowd into the room. I pointed
to the spot where he had disappeared,
and we followed the track with
boats; nets were cast, but in
vain. After passing several hours,
we returned hopeless, most of
my companions believing it to
have been a form conjured up
by my fancy. After having landed,
they proceeded to search the
country, parties going in different
directions among the woods and
vines.
I attempted to accompany them,
and proceeded a short distance
from the house; but my head whirled
round, my steps were like those
of a drunken man, I fell at last
in a state of utter exhaustion;
a film covered my eyes, and my
skin was parched with the heat
of fever. In this state I was
carried back and placed on a
bed, hardly conscious of what
had happened; my eyes wandered
round the room as if to seek
something that I had lost.
After an interval I arose and,
as if by instinct, crawled into
the room where the corpse of
my beloved lay. There were women
weeping around--I hung over it,
and joined my sad tears to theirs--all
this time no distinct idea presented
itself to my mind; but my thoughts
rambled to various subjects,
reflecting confusedly on my misfortunes
and their cause. I was bewildered
in a cloud of wonder and horror.
The death of William, the execution
of Justine, the murder of Clerval,
and lastly of my wife; even at
that moment I knew not that my
only remaining friends were safe
from the malignity of the fiend;
my father even now might be writhing
under his grasp, and Ernest might
be dead at his feet. This idea
made me shudder and recalled
me to action. I started up and
resolved to return to Geneva
with all possible speed.
There were no horses to be
procured, and I must return by
the lake; but the wind was unfavourable
and the rain fell in torrents.
However, it was hardly morning,
and I might reasonably hope to
arrive by night. I hired men
to row, and took an oar myself;
for I had always experienced
relief from mental torment in
bodily exercise. But the overflowing
misery I now felt, and the excess
of agitation that I endured,
rendered me incapable of any
exertion. I threw down the oar,
and leaning my head upon my hands
gave way to every gloomy idea
that arose. If I looked up, I
saw the scenes which were familiar
to me in my happier time, and
which I had contemplated but
the day before in the company
of her who was now but a shadow
and a recollection. Tears streamed
from my eyes. The rain had ceased
for a moment, and I saw the fish
play in the waters as they had
done a few hours before; they
had then been observed by Elizabeth.
Nothing is so painful to the
human mind as a great and sudden
change. The sun might shine or
the clouds might lower: but nothing
could appear to me as it had
done the day before. A fiend
had snatched from me every hope
of future happiness: no creature
had ever been so miserable as
I was; so frightful an event
is single in the history of man.
But why should I dwell upon
the incidents that followed this
last overwhelming event? Mine
has been a tale of horrors; I
have reached their _acme_, and
what I must now relate can but
be tedious to you. Know that,
one by one, my friends were snatched
away; I was left desolate. My
own strength is exhausted; and
I must tell, in a few words,
what remains of my hideous narration.
I arrived at Geneva. My father
and Ernest yet lived; but the
former sunk under the tidings
that I bore. I see him now, excellent
and venerable old man! his eyes
wandered in vacancy, for they
had lost their charm and their
delight--his Elizabeth, his more
than daughter, whom he doated
on with all that affection which
a man feels, who in the decline
of life, having few affections,
clings more earnestly to those
that remain. Cursed, cursed be
the fiend that brought misery
on his grey hairs, and doomed
him to waste in wretchedness!
He could not live under the horrors
that were accumulated around
him; the springs of existence
suddenly gave way: he was unable
to rise from his bed, and in
a few days he died in my arms.
What then became of me? I know
not. I lost sensation, and chains
and darkness were the only objects
that pressed upon me. Sometimes,
indeed, I dreamt that I wandered
in flowery meadows and pleasant
vales with the friends of my
youth; but I awoke, and found
myself in a dungeon. Melancholy
followed, but by degrees I gained
a clear conception of my miseries
and situation, and was then released
from my prison. For they had
called me mad; and during many
months, as I understood, a solitary
cell had been my habitation.
Liberty, however, had been
an useless gift to me had I not,
as I awakened to reason, at the
same time awakened to revenge.
As the memory of past misfortunes
pressed upon me, I began to reflect
on their cause--the monster whom
I had created, the miserable
daemon whom I had sent abroad
into the world for my destruction.
I was possessed by a maddening
rage when I thought of him, and
desired and ardently prayed that
I might have him within my grasp
to wreak a great and signal revenge
on his cursed head.
Nor did my hate long confine
itself to useless wishes; I began
to reflect on the best means
of securing him; and for this
purpose, about a month after
my release, I repaired to a criminal
judge in the town, and told him
that I had an accusation to make;
that I knew the destroyer of
my family; and that I required
him to exert his whole authority
for the apprehension of the murderer.
The magistrate
listened to me with attention
and kindness:-- "Be
assured, sir," said he, "no pains
or exertions on my part shall
be spared to discover the villain."
"I thank you," replied I; "listen,
therefore, to the deposition
that I have to make. It is indeed
a tale so strange that I should
fear you would not credit it
were there not something in truth
which, however wonderful, forces
conviction. The story is too
connected to be mistaken for
a dream, and I have no motive
for falsehood." My manner, as
I thus addressed him, was impressive
but calm; I had formed in my
own heart a resolution to pursue
my destroyer to death; and this
purpose quieted my agony, and
for an interval reconciled me
to life. I now related my history,
briefly, but with firmness and
precision, marking the dates
with accuracy, and never deviating
into invective or exclamation.
The magistrate appeared at
first perfectly incredulous,
but as I continued he became
more attentive and interested;
I saw him sometimes shudder with
horror, at others a lively surprise,
unmingled with disbelief, was
painted on his countenance.
When I had
concluded my narration, I said, "This
is the being whom I accuse,
and for whose seizure
and punishment I call upon you
to exert your whole power. It
is your duty as a magistrate,
and I believe and hope that your
feelings as a man will not revolt
from the execution of those functions
on this occasion.
This address
caused a considerable change
in the physiognomy of
my own auditor. He had heard
my story with that half kind
of belief that is given to a
tale of spirits and supernatural
events; but when he was called
upon to act officially in consequence,
the whole tide of his incredulity
returned. He, however, answered
mildly, "I would willingly afford
you every aid in your pursuit;
but the creature of whom you
speak appears to have powers
which would put all my exertions
to defiance. Who can follow an
animal which can traverse the
sea of ice, and inhabit caves
and dens where no man would venture
to intrude? Besides, some months
have elapsed since the commission
of his crimes, and no one can
conjecture to what place he has
wandered, or what region he may
now inhabit."
"I do not doubt
that he hovers near the spot
which I inhabit;
and if he has indeed taken refuge
in the Alps, he may be hunted
like the chamois, and destroyed
as a beast of prey. But I perceive
your thoughts: you do not credit
my narrative, and do not intend
to pursue my enemy with the punishment
which is his desert."
As I spoke,
rage sparkled in my eyes; the
magistrate was intimidated:--"You
are mistaken," said he, "I will
exert myself; and if it is in
my power to seize the monster,
be assured that he shall suffer
punishment proportionate to his
crimes. But I fear, from what
you have yourself described to
be his properties, that this
will prove impracticable; and
thus, while every proper measure
is pursued, you should make up
your mind to disappointment."
"That cannot
be; but all that I can say
will be of little avail.
My revenge is of no moment to
you; yet, while I allow it to
be a vice, I confess that it
is the devouring and only passion
of my soul. My rage is unspeakable
when I reflect that the murderer,
whom I have turned loose upon
society, still exists. You refuse
my just demand: I have but one
resource; and I devote myself,
either in my life or death, to
his destruction."
I trembled with excess of agitation
as I said this; there was a frenzy
in my manner and something, I
doubt not, of that haughty fierceness
which the martyrs of old are
said to have possessed. But to
a Genevan magistrate, whose mind
was occupied by far other ideas
than those of devotion and heroism,
this elevation of mind had much
the appearance of madness. He
endeavoured to soothe me as a
nurse does a child, and reverted
to my tale as the effects of
delirium.
"Man," I cried, "how
ignorant art thou in thy pride
of wisdom!
Cease; you know not what it is
you say."
I broke from the house angry
and disturbed, and retired to
meditate on some other mode of
action. |