Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1883-10-27

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to meet with beings, who, pardon
ing my outward form, would Low,
me for the excellent qualities which
J was capable of bringing forth.
was nourished with high thought
of honor and devotion. But nov
wee has degraded me beneath tn,
lowest animal. No crime, no mis-
chief, no maligniiy, no misery, car
be found comparable to mine
When l call over the frightful cata
logue of my deeds, cannot believs
that / am he whose thoughts were
once filled with sublime ard trans
cendeut visions of the beauty ano
the majesty of goodness. But it is
even so; the fallen angel becomes /
malignant devil. Yet even thai
enemy of God and man had friend.
and associates i'm his desolation;
am quite alone.
"You, who call Frankenstein
your friend, seem to have knowl.
edge of my crimes and his miSfOr-
| tunes. But in the detail which he
gave you of them, he could moi
sum up the hours and months oil
misery which / endured, wasting
in impotent passions. For, while
destroyed his hopes, did not salts
fy my own desires. They were for
ever ardent and craving still de
sired love and fellowship, and l was
still spurned. Was there no injus-
tice in this? Am / to be thought
the only criminal, when all human
kind sinned against me? Why do
you not execrate the rustic who
sought to destroy the savior of his
child? Nay, there are virtuous and
immaculate beings; /, the misea-
BILE and the abandoned, am an abOr-
ton, to be spurned at, and kicked,
and trampled on. Even now my
blood boils at the recollection Of
this injustice.
"Bul it is true that | am a wretch.
l have murdered the lovely and the
helpless have strangled the in
nocent as they slept, and grasped to
death his throat who never injured
me or any other living thing. L
have devoted my creator, the select
specimen of all that is worthy OF
love and admiration among men,
to misery; l have pursued him
even to that irremediable ruin.
There he lies, white and cold in
death. You hate me; but your
adherence cannot equal that with
which l regard myself. L looked
on the hands which had executed
the deed think on the heart in
which the imagination of it was
conceived, and long for the moment
when they will meet my eyes,
when it will haunt my thoughts, no
more.
Fear not that / shall be the in
strument of future mischief. My
work is nearly complete. Neither
yours nor any mans death Is need
ed to consummate the series of my
being, and to accomplish that
which must be done; but it re-
quires my own. Do not think that
l shall be slow to perform this sac
ritice. shall quit your vessle on
the ice-raft which brought me hith-
er, and shall seek the most north
ern extremity of the globe l shall
collect my funeral pile, and consume
TO ashes this miserable frame, that
its remains may afford no light TO
any curious and unhallowed wretch |
who would create such another as |
have been. / shall die. shall no |
longer feel the agonies that consume |
me, or be the prey of feelings unSat |
istied, yet unquencned. He is dead.
who called me into being; and
when | shall be no more, the very |
of us both will speed |
lily vanish. / shall no longer see |
the sun or stars, or feel the winds |
play on my cheeks. Light, feeling,
and sense will pass away and in |
this condition must find my hap |
piness. Some years ago, when the |
images which this world affords |
first opened upon me, when felt |
the cheering warmth of summer,
and heard the rustling of the leaves |
and the chirping of the birds, and
these were all to me, i should have |
wept to die; now it is my only con- !
ISOLATION. Polluted by bitter crimes |
and torn by the bitterest relnorse,
where can find rest but in death ? |
Farewell | leave you, and in |
you the last of human kind these |
eyes will ever behold. Farewell |
Frankenstein If thou vert yet |
alive, and yet cherished desire of
revenge against me, it would be |
better satiated in my life that in |
my destruction. But it was not SO ;
thou didst seek my extinction, that |
| might not cause greater wretched- !
ness; and if yet, in some mode I'M
known to me, thou hast not yet, |
ceased to think and feel, thou desir- !
est not my life for my own misery. |
Blasted as thou vert, my agony WAS |
still superior to thine; for the bit
ter stings of remOrse may not cease |
to rankle in my wounds until death |
shall close them forever.
"Bat soOn," he cried, with sad
and solemn enthusiasm, 81 shalt |
die, and what now feel be no Ion
ger felt. Soon these burning miser-
les will be extinct. / shall ascend |
my funeral pile triumphantly, and |
eXult in the agony of the tOrturing |
flames. The light of that confia- |
grafton will fade away; my ashes |
will be swept into the sea by the
winds. My spirit will sleep in
peace; or, if it thinks, it will not |
surely think thus. Farewell"
He sprung from the cabin-win-
dow as'he said this, upon the ice
raft which lay close to the vessel. |
He was soon borne away by the |
waves, and lost in darkness and dis |
lance.
THE END.