CHAPTER XXI.
I was soon introduced into the presence of the magistrate, an oldbenevolent man, with calm and mild manners. He looked upon me, however,with some degree of severity: and then, turning towards my conductors,he asked who appeared as witnesses on this occasion.
About half a dozen men came forward; and, one being selected by themagistrate, he deposed, that he had been out fishing the night beforewith his son and brother-in-law, Daniel Nugent, when, about ten o'clock,they observed a strong northerly blast rising, and they accordingly putin for port. It was a very dark night, as the moon had not yet risen;they did not land at the harbour, but, as they had been accustomed, at acreek about two miles below. He walked on first, carrying a part of thefishing tackle, and his companions followed him at some distance. As hewas proceeding along the sands, he struck his foot against something,and fell at his length on the ground. His companions came up to assisthim; and, by the light of their lantern, they found that he had fallenon the body of a man, who was to all appearance dead. Their firstsupposition was, that it was the corpse of some person who had beendrowned, and was thrown on shore by the waves; but, on examination, theyfound that the clothes were not wet, and even that the body was not thencold. They instantly carried it to the cottage of an old woman near thespot, and endeavoured, but in vain, to restore it to life. It appearedto be a handsome young man, about five and twenty years of age. He hadapparently been strangled; for there was no sign of any violence, exceptthe black mark of fingers on his neck.
The first part of this deposition did not in the least interest me; butwhen the mark of the fingers was mentioned, I remembered the murder ofmy brother, and felt myself extremely agitated; my limbs trembled, and amist came over my eyes, which obliged me to lean on a chair forsupport. The magistrate observed me with a keen eye, and of course drewan unfavourable augury from my manner.
The son confirmed his father's account: but when Daniel Nugent wascalled, he swore positively that, just before the fall of his companion,he saw a boat, with a single man in it, at a short distance from theshore; and, as far as he could judge by the light of a few stars, it wasthe same boat in which I had just landed.
A woman deposed, that she lived near the beach, and was standing at thedoor of her cottage, waiting for the return of the fishermen, about anhour before she heard of the discovery of the body, when she saw a boat,with only one man in it, push off from that part of the shore where thecorpse was afterwards found.
Another woman confirmed the account of the fishermen having brought thebody into her house; it was not cold. They put it into a bed, and rubbedit; and Daniel went to the town for an apothecary, but life was quitegone.
Several other men were examined concerning my landing; and they agreed,that, with the strong north wind that had arisen during the night, itwas very probable that I had beaten about for many hours, and had beenobliged to return nearly to the same spot from which I had departed.Besides, they observed that it appeared that I had brought the body fromanother place, and it was likely, that as I did not appear to know theshore, I might have put into the harbour ignorant of the distance of thetown of * * * from the place where I had deposited the corpse.
Mr. Kirwin, on hearing this evidence, desired that I should be takeninto the room where the body lay for interment, that it might beobserved what effect the sight of it would produce upon me. This ideawas probably suggested by the extreme agitation I had exhibited when themode of the murder had been described. I was accordingly conducted, bythe magistrate and several other persons, to the inn. I could not helpbeing struck by the strange coincidences that had taken place duringthis eventful night; but, knowing that I had been conversing withseveral persons in the island I had inhabited about the time that thebody had been found, I was perfectly tranquil as to the consequences ofthe affair.
I entered the room where the corpse lay, and was led up to the coffin.How can I describe my sensations on beholding it? I feel yet parchedwith horror, nor can I reflect on that terrible moment withoutshuddering and agony. The examination, the presence of the magistrateand witnesses, passed like a dream from my memory, when I saw thelifeless form of Henry Clerval stretched before me. I gasped for breath;and, throwing myself on the body, I exclaimed, "Have my murderousmachinations deprived you also, my dearest Henry, of life? Two I havealready destroyed; other victims await their destiny: but you, Clerval,my friend, my benefactor----"
The human frame could no longer support the agonies that I endured, andI was carried out of the room in strong convulsions.
A fever succeeded to this. I lay for two months on the point of death:my ravings, as I afterwards heard, were frightful; I called myself themurderer of William, of Justine, and of Clerval. Sometimes I entreatedmy attendants to assist me in the destruction of the fiend by whom I wastormented; and at others, I felt the fingers of the monster alreadygrasping my neck, and screamed aloud with agony and terror. Fortunately,as I spoke my native language, Mr. Kirwin alone understood me; but mygestures and bitter cries were sufficient to affright the otherwitnesses.
Why did I not die? More miserable than man ever was before, why did Inot sink into forgetfulness and rest? Death snatches away many bloomingchildren, the only hopes of their doating parents: how many brides andyouthful lovers have been one day in the bloom of health and hope, andthe next a prey for worms and the decay of the tomb! Of what materialswas I made, that I could thus resist so many shocks, which, like theturning of the wheel, continually renewed the torture?
But I was doomed to live; and, in two months, found myself as awakingfrom a dream, in a prison, stretched on a wretched bed, surrounded bygaolers, turnkeys, bolts, and all the miserable apparatus of a dungeon.It was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to understanding: I hadforgotten the particulars of what had happened, and only felt as if somegreat misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me; but when I looked around,and saw the barred windows, and the squalidness of the room in which Iwas, all flashed across my memory, and I groaned bitterly.
This sound disturbed an old woman who was sleeping in a chair beside me.She was a hired nurse, the wife of one of the turnkeys, and hercountenance expressed all those bad qualities which often characterisethat class. The lines of her face were hard and rude, like that ofpersons accustomed to see without sympathising in sights of misery. Hertone expressed her entire indifference; she addressed me in English, andthe voice struck me as one that I had heard during my sufferings:--
"Are you better now, sir?" said she.
I replied in the same language, with a feeble voice, "I believe I am;but if it be all true, if indeed I did not dream, I am sorry that I amstill alive to feel this misery and horror."
"For that matter," replied the old woman, "if you mean about thegentleman you murdered, I believe that it were better for you if youwere dead, for I fancy it will go hard with you! However, that's none ofmy business; I am sent to nurse you, and get you well; I do my duty witha safe conscience; it were well if every body did the same."
I turned with loathing from the woman who could utter so unfeeling aspeech to a person just saved, on the very edge of death; but I feltlanguid, and unable to reflect on all that had passed. The whole seriesof my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed itwere all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the forceof reality.
As the images that floated before me became more distinct, I grewfeverish; a darkness pressed around me: no one was near me who soothedme with the gentle voice of love; no dear hand supported me. Thephysician came and prescribed medicines, and the old woman prepared themfor me; but utter carelessness was visible in the first, and theexpression of brutality was strongly marked in the visage of the second.Who could be interested in the fate of a murderer, but the hangman whowould gain his fee?
These were my first reflections; but I soon learned that Mr. Kirwin hadshown me extreme kindness. He had caused the best room in the prison tobe prepared for me (wretched indeed was the best); and it was he who hadprovide
d a physician and a nurse. It is true, he seldom came to see me;for, although he ardently desired to relieve the sufferings of everyhuman creature, he did not wish to be present at the agonies andmiserable ravings of a murderer. He came, therefore, sometimes, to seethat I was not neglected; but his visits were short, and with longintervals.
One day, while I was gradually recovering, I was seated in a chair, myeyes half open, and my cheeks livid like those in death. I was overcomeby gloom and misery, and often reflected I had better seek death thandesire to remain in a world which to me was replete with wretchedness.At one time I considered whether I should not declare myself guilty, andsuffer the penalty of the law, less innocent than poor Justine had been.Such were my thoughts, when the door of my apartment was opened, and Mr.Kirwin entered. His countenance expressed sympathy and compassion; hedrew a chair close to mine, and addressed me in French--
"I fear that this place is very shocking to you; can I do any thing tomake you more comfortable?"
"I thank you; but all that you mention is nothing to me: on the wholeearth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving."
"I know that the sympathy of a stranger can be but of little relief toone borne down as you are by so strange a misfortune. But you will, Ihope, soon quit this melancholy abode; for, doubtless, evidence caneasily be brought to free you from the criminal charge."
"That is my least concern: I am, by a course of strange events, becomethe most miserable of mortals. Persecuted and tortured as I am and havebeen, can death be any evil to me?"
"Nothing indeed could be more unfortunate and agonising than the strangechances that have lately occurred. You were thrown, by some surprisingaccident, on this shore, renowned for its hospitality; seizedimmediately, and charged with murder. The first sight that was presentedto your eyes was the body of your friend, murdered in so unaccountable amanner, and placed, as it were, by some fiend across your path."
As Mr. Kirwin said this, notwithstanding the agitation I endured on thisretrospect of my sufferings, I also felt considerable surprise at theknowledge he seemed to possess concerning me. I suppose someastonishment was exhibited in my countenance; for Mr. Kirwin hastened tosay--
"Immediately upon your being taken ill, all the papers that were on yourperson were brought me, and I examined them that I might discover sometrace by which I could send to your relations an account of yourmisfortune and illness. I found several letters, and, among others, onewhich I discovered from its commencement to be from your father. Iinstantly wrote to Geneva: nearly two months have elapsed since thedeparture of my letter.--But you are ill; even now you tremble: you areunfit for agitation of any kind."
"This suspense is a thousand times worse than the most horrible event:tell me what new scene of death has been acted, and whose murder I amnow to lament?"
"Your family is perfectly well," said Mr. Kirwin, with gentleness; "andsome one, a friend, is come to visit you."
I know not by what chain of thought, the idea presented itself, but itinstantly darted into my mind that the murderer had come to mock at mymisery, and taunt me with the death of Clerval, as a new incitement forme to comply with his hellish desires. I put my hand before my eyes, andcried out in agony--
"Oh! take him away! I cannot see him; for God's sake, do not let himenter!"
Mr. Kirwin regarded me with a troubled countenance. He could not helpregarding my exclamation as a presumption of my guilt, and said, inrather a severe tone--
"I should have thought, young man, that the presence of your fatherwould have been welcome, instead of inspiring such violent repugnance."
"My father!" cried I, while every feature and every muscle was relaxedfrom anguish to pleasure: "is my father indeed come? How kind, how verykind! But where is he, why does he not hasten to me?"
My change of manner surprised and pleased the magistrate; perhaps hethought that my former exclamation was a momentary return of delirium,and now he instantly resumed his former benevolence. He rose, andquitted the room with my nurse, and in a moment my father entered it.
Nothing, at this moment, could have given me greater pleasure than thearrival of my father. I stretched out my hand to him, and cried--
"Are you then safe--and Elizabeth--and Ernest?"
My father calmed me with assurances of their welfare, and endeavoured,by dwelling on these subjects so interesting to my heart, to raise mydesponding spirits; but he soon felt that a prison cannot be the abodeof cheerfulness. "What a place is this that you inhabit, my son!" saidhe, looking mournfully at the barred windows, and wretched appearance ofthe room. "You travelled to seek happiness, but a fatality seems topursue you. And poor Clerval--"
The name of my unfortunate and murdered friend was an agitation toogreat to be endured in my weak state; I shed tears.
"Alas! yes, my father," replied I; "some destiny of the most horriblekind hangs over me, and I must live to fulfil it, or surely I shouldhave died on the coffin of Henry."
We were not allowed to converse for any length of time, for theprecarious state of my health rendered every precaution necessary thatcould ensure tranquillity. Mr. Kirwin came in, and insisted that mystrength should not be exhausted by too much exertion. But theappearance of my father was to me like that of my good angel, and Igradually recovered my health.
As my sickness quitted me, I was absorbed by a gloomy and blackmelancholy, that nothing could dissipate. The image of Clerval was forever before me, ghastly and murdered. More than once the agitation intowhich these reflections threw me made my friends dread a dangerousrelapse. Alas! why did they preserve so miserable and detested a life?It was surely that I might fulfil my destiny, which is now drawing to aclose. Soon, oh! very soon, will death extinguish these throbbings, andrelieve me from the mighty weight of anguish that bears me to the dust;and, in executing the award of justice, I shall also sink to rest. Thenthe appearance of death was distant, although the wish was ever presentto my thoughts; and I often sat for hours motionless and speechless,wishing for some mighty revolution that might bury me and my destroyerin its ruins.
The season of the assizes approached. I had already been three months inprison; and although I was still weak, and in continual danger of arelapse, I was obliged to travel nearly a hundred miles to thecounty-town, where the court was held. Mr. Kirwin charged himself withevery care of collecting witnesses, and arranging my defence. I wasspared the disgrace of appearing publicly as a criminal, as the case wasnot brought before the court that decides on life and death. The grandjury rejected the bill, on its being proved that I was on the OrkneyIslands at the hour the body of my friend was found; and a fortnightafter my removal I was liberated from prison.
My father was enraptured on finding me freed from the vexations of acriminal charge, that I was again allowed to breathe the freshatmosphere, and permitted to return to my native country. I did notparticipate in these feelings; for to me the walls of a dungeon or apalace were alike hateful. The cup of life was poisoned for ever; andalthough the sun shone upon me, as upon the happy and gay of heart, Isaw around me nothing but a dense and frightful darkness, penetrated byno light but the glimmer of two eyes that glared upon me. Sometimes theywere the expressive eyes of Henry, languishing in death, the dark orbsnearly covered by the lids, and the long black lashes that fringed them;sometimes it was the watery, clouded eyes of the monster, as I first sawthem in my chamber at Ingolstadt.
My father tried to awaken in me the feelings of affection. He talked ofGeneva, which I should soon visit--of Elizabeth and Ernest; but thesewords only drew deep groans from me. Sometimes, indeed, I felt a wishfor happiness; and thought, with melancholy delight, of my belovedcousin; or longed, with a devouring _maladie du pays_, to see once morethe blue lake and rapid Rhone, that had been so dear to me in earlychildhood: but my general state of feeling was a torpor, in which aprison was as welcome a residence as the divinest scene in nature; andthese fits were seldom interrupted but by paroxysms of anguish anddespair. At these moments I often endeavoured to
put an end to theexistence I loathed; and it required unceasing attendance and vigilanceto restrain me from committing some dreadful act of violence.
Yet one duty remained to me, the recollection of which finally triumphedover my selfish despair. It was necessary that I should return withoutdelay to Geneva, there to watch over the lives of those I so fondlyloved; and to lie in wait for the murderer, that if any chance led me tothe place of his concealment, or if he dared again to blast me by hispresence, I might, with unfailing aim, put an end to the existence ofthe monstrous Image which I had endued with the mockery of a soul stillmore monstrous. My father still desired to delay our departure, fearfulthat I could not sustain the fatigues of a journey: for I was ashattered wreck,--the shadow of a human being. My strength was gone. Iwas a mere skeleton; and fever night and day preyed upon my wastedframe.
Still, as I urged our leaving Ireland with such inquietude andimpatience, my father thought it best to yield. We took our passage onboard a vessel bound for Havre-de-Grace, and sailed with a fair windfrom the Irish shores. It was midnight. I lay on the deck, looking atthe stars, and listening to the dashing of the waves. I hailed thedarkness that shut Ireland from my sight; and my pulse beat with afeverish joy when I reflected that I should soon see Geneva. The pastappeared to me in the light of a frightful dream; yet the vessel inwhich I was, the wind that blew me from the detested shore of Ireland,and the sea which surrounded me, told me too forcibly that I wasdeceived by no vision, and that Clerval, my friend and dearestcompanion, had fallen a victim to me and the monster of my creation. Irepassed, in my memory, my whole life; my quiet happiness while residingwith my family in Geneva, the death of my mother, and my departure forIngolstadt. I remembered, shuddering, the mad enthusiasm that hurried meon to the creation of my hideous enemy, and I called to mind the nightin which he first lived. I was unable to pursue the train of thought; athousand feelings pressed upon me, and I wept bitterly.
Ever since my recovery from the fever, I had been in the custom oftaking every night a small quantity of laudanum; for it was by means ofthis drug only that I was enabled to gain the rest necessary for thepreservation of life. Oppressed by the recollection of my variousmisfortunes, I now swallowed double my usual quantity, and soon sleptprofoundly. But sleep did not afford me respite from thought and misery;my dreams presented a thousand objects that scared me. Towards morning Iwas possessed by a kind of night-mare; I felt the fiend's grasp in myneck, and could not free myself from it; groans and cries rung in myears. My father, who was watching over me, perceiving my restlessness,awoke me; the dashing waves were around: the cloudy sky above; the fiendwas not here: a sense of security, a feeling that a truce wasestablished between the present hour and the irresistible, disastrousfuture, imparted to me a kind of calm forgetfulness, of which the humanmind is by its structure peculiarly susceptible.