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"

You

,

who

call

Frankenstein

your

friend

,

seem

to

have

a

knowledge

of

my

crimes

and

his

misfortunes

.

But

in

the

detail

which

he

gave

you

of

them

he

could

not

sum

up

the

hours

and

months

of

misery

which

I

endured

wasting

in

impotent

passions

.

For

while

I

destroyed

his

hopes

,

I

did

not

satisfy

my

own

desires

.

They

were

forever

ardent

and

craving

;

still

I

desired

love

and

fellowship

,

and

I

was

still

spurned

.

Was

there

no

injustice

in

this

?

Am

I

to

be

thought

the

only

criminal

,

when

all

humankind

sinned

against

me

?

Why

do

you

not

hate

Felix

,

who

drove

his

friend

from

his

door

with

contumely

?

Why

do

you

not

execrate

the

rustic

who

sought

to

destroy

the

saviour

of

his

child

?

Nay

,

these

are

virtuous

and

immaculate

beings

!

I

,

the

miserable

and

the

abandoned

,

am

an

abortion

,

to

be

spurned

at

,

and

kicked

,

and

trampled

on

.

Even

now

my

blood

boils

at

the

recollection

of

this

injustice

.

"

But

it

is

true

that

I

am

a

wretch

.

I

have

murdered

the

lovely

and

the

helpless

;

I

have

strangled

the

innocent

as

they

slept

and

grasped

to

death

his

throat

who

never

injured

me

or

any

other

living

thing

.

I

have

devoted

my

creator

,

the

select

specimen

of

all

that

is

worthy

of

love

and

admiration

among

men

,

to

misery

;

I

have

pursued

him

even

to

that

irremediable

ruin

.

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"

There

he

lies

,

white

and

cold

in

death

.

You

hate

me

,

but

your

abhorrence

can

not

equal

that

with

which

I

regard

myself

.

I

look

on

the

hands

which

executed

the

deed

;

I

think

on

the

heart

in

which

the

imagination

of

it

was

conceived

and

long

for

the

moment

when

these

hands

will

meet

my

eyes

,

when

that

imagination

will

haunt

my

thoughts

no

more

.

"

Fear

not

that

I

shall

be

the

instrument

of

future

mischief

.

My

work

is

nearly

complete

.

Neither

yours

nor

any

man

's

death

is

needed

to

consummate

the

series

of

my

being

and

accomplish

that

which

must

be

done

,

but

it

requires

my

own

.

Do

not

think

that

I

shall

be

slow

to

perform

this

sacrifice

.

I

shall

quit

your

vessel

on

the

ice

raft

which

brought

me

thither

and

shall

seek

the

most

northern

extremity

of

the

globe

;

I

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

I

have

been

.

I

shall

die

.

I

shall

no

longer

feel

the

agonies

which

now

consume

me

or

be

the

prey

of

feelings

unsatisfied

,

yet

unquenched

.

He

is

dead

who

called

me

into

being

;

and

when

I

shall

be

no

more

,

the

very

remembrance

of

us

both

will

speedily

vanish

.

I

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

I

find

my

happiness

.

Some

years

ago

,

when

the

images

which

this

world

affords

first

opened

upon

me

,

when

I

felt

the

cheering

warmth

of

summer

and

heard

the

rustling

of

the

leaves

and

the

warbling

of

the

birds

,

and

these

were

all

to

me

,

I

should

have

wept

to

die

;

now

it

is

my

only

consolation

.

Polluted

by

crimes

and

torn

by

the

bitterest

remorse

,

where

can

I

find

rest

but

in

death

?

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"

Farewell

!

I

leave

you

,

and

in

you

the

last

of

humankind

whom

these

eyes

will

ever

behold

.

Farewell

,

Frankenstein

!

If

thou

wert

yet

alive

and

yet

cherished

a

desire

of

revenge

against

me

,

it

would

be

better

satiated

in

my

life

than

in

my

destruction

.

But

it

was

not

so

;

thou

didst

seek

my

extinction

,

that

I

might

not

cause

greater

wretchedness

;

and

if

yet

,

in

some

mode

unknown

to

me

,

thou

hadst

not

ceased

to

think

and

feel

,

thou

wouldst

not

desire

against

me

a

vengeance

greater

than

that

which

I

feel

Blasted

as

thou

wert

,

my

agony

was

still

superior

to

thine

,

for

the

bitter

sting

of

remorse

will

not

cease

to

rankle

in

my

wounds

until

death

shall

close

them

forever

.

"

But

soon

,

"

he

cried

with

sad

and

solemn

enthusiasm

,

"

I

shall

die

,

and

what

I

now

feel

be

no

longer

felt

.

Soon

these

burning

miseries

will

be

extinct

.

I

shall

ascend

my

funeral

pile

triumphantly

and

exult

in

the

agony

of

the

torturing

flames

.

The

light

of

that

conflagration

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

.

"

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