Frankenstein: Or, the Modern Prometheus

By Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley | Go to book overview

thought nor sense of joy, except as it is mirrored also in your dear countenances -- who would fill the air with blessings, and spend his life in serving you -- he bids you weep -- to shed countless tears; happy beyond his hopes, if thus inexorable fate be satisfied, and if the destruction pause before the peace of the grave have succeeded to your sad torments!

Thus spoke my prophetic soul, as, torn by remorse, horror, and despair, I beheld those I loved spend vain sorrow upon the graves of William and Justine, the first hapless victims to my unhallowed arts.


Chapter 9

NOTHING is more painful to the human mind, than, after the feelings have been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of inaction and certainty which follows, and deprives the soul both of hope and fear. Justine died; she rested; and I was alive. The blood flowed freely in my veins, but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my heart, which nothing could remove. Sleep fled from my eyes; I wandered like an evil spirit, for I had committed deeds of mischief beyond description horrible, and more, much more (I persuaded myself), was yet behind. Yet my heart overflowed with kindness, and the love of virtue. I had begun life with benevolent intentions, and thirsted for the moment when I should put them in practice, and make myself useful to my fellow-beings. Now all was blasted: instead of that serenity of conscience, which allowed me to look back upon the past with self-satisfaction, and from thence to gather promise of new hopes, I was seized by remorse and the sense of guilt, which hurried me away to a hell of intense tortures, such as no language can describe.

This state of mind preyed upon my health, which had perhaps never entirely recovered from the first shock it had sustained. I shunned the face of man; all sound of joy or complacency was torture to me; solitude was my only consolation -- deep, dark, deathlike solitude.

My father observed with pain the alteration perceptible in my disposition and habits, and endeavoured by arguments de-

-76-

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Frankenstein: Or, the Modern Prometheus
Table of contents

Table of contents

  • Title Page 3
  • Preface 5
  • Introduction- (to the 1831 Edition) 7
  • Letter 1 13
  • Letter 2 16
  • Letter 3 19
  • Letter 4 20
  • Chapter 1 27
  • Chapter 2 31
  • Chapter 3 36
  • Chapter 4 42
  • Chapter 5 48
  • Chapter 6 54
  • Chapter 7 60
  • Chapter 8 69
  • Chapter 9 76
  • Chapter 10 81
  • Chapter 11 87
  • Chapter 12 93
  • Chapter 13 98
  • Chapter 14 103
  • Chapter 15 108
  • Chapter 16 115
  • Chapter 17 122
  • Chapter 18 127
  • Chapter 19 134
  • Chapter 20 140
  • Chapter 21 148
  • Chapter 22 157
  • Chapter 23 165
  • Chapter 24 171
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