Transformation is a short story
written by Mary Shelley and first published in 1831 for The Keepsake, a British
literary annual. It was accompanied by an engraving called Juliet, from a
painting by Louisa Sharpe.
Guido, the narrator, tells the story of his
encounter with a strange, misshapen creature when he was a young man living in
Genoa, Italy, around the turn of the fifteenth century. He makes a deal with
the creature to exchange bodies, but the creature does not reappear at the
appointed time to take his own body back. Guido discovers that the creature is
pretending to be him, kills it and therefore 'himself', and eventually awakens
in his own body.
"Transformation"
explores the Gothic motif of the double, or doppelgänger, common in
nineteenth-century Gothic fiction. (Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
(1886), and Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890).as well as others.
"Transformation" may
have been influenced by Lord Byron's unfinished drama The Deformed Transformed
(1824), which Mary Shelley transcribed between 1822 and 1823.
In terms of form,
"Transformation" is a variation on the Gothic fragment, exemplified
by Anna Letitia Aiken's "Sir Bertrand: A Fragment" (1773). Although
it is often categorized as a short story, that form was not named until the
1880s in Britain. It is more accurately classified as a Gothic tale, a story
about an experience of the strange or supernatural, often narrated in the first
or third person.
Mary
Shelley, "Transformation" [1831]
Forthwith this frame of
mine was wrench'd
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin
my tale,
And then it set me free.
Since then, at an
uncertain hour,
That agony returns;
And till my ghastly tale
is told
This heart within me
burns.
Coleridge's Ancient
Mariner.
I have heard it said, that, when
any strange, supernatural, and necromantic adventure has occurred to a human
being, that being, however desirous he may be to conceal the same, feels at
certain periods torn up as it were by an intellectual earthquake, and is forced
to bare the inner depths of his spirit to another. I am a witness of the truth
of this. I have dearly sworn to myself never to reveal to human ears the
horrors to which I once, in excess of fiendly pride, delivered myself over. The
holy man who heard my confession, and reconciled me to the church, is dead.
None knows that once--
Why should it not be thus? Why
tell a tale of impious tempting of Providence, and soul-subduing humiliation?
Why? answer me, ye who are wise in the secrets of human nature! I only know
that so it is; and in spite of strong resolve--of a pride that too much masters
me--of shame, and even of fear, so to render myself odious to my species--I
must speak.
Genoa! my birth-place-proud city!
looking upon the blue waves of the Mediterranean sea--dost thou remember me in
my boyhood, when thy cliffs and promontories, thy bright sky and gay vineyards,
were my world? Happy time! when to the young heart the narrow-bounded universe,
which leaves, by its very limitation, free scope to the imagination, enchains
our physical energies, and, sole period in our lives, innocence and enjoyment
are united. Yet, who can look back to childhood, and not remember its sorrows
and its harrowing fears? I was born with the most imperious, haughty, tameless
spirit, with which ever mortal was gifted. I quailed before my father only; and
he, generous and noble, but capricious and tyrannical, at once fostered and
checked the wild impetuosity of my character, making obedience necessary, but
inspiring no respect for the motives which guided his commands. To be a man,
free, independent; or, in better words, insolent and domineering, was the hope
and prayer of my rebel heart.
My father had one friend, a
wealthy Genoese noble, who in a political tumult was suddenly sentenced to
banishment, and his property confiscated. The Marchese Torella went into exile
alone. Like my father, he was a widower: he bad one child, the almost infant
Juliet, who was left under my father's guardianship. I should certainly have
been an unkind master to the lovely girl, but that I was forced by my position
to become her protector. A variety of childish incidents all tended to one
point,--to make Juliet see in me a rock of refuge; I in her, one, who must
perish through the soft sensibility of her nature too rudely visited, but for
my guardian care. We grew up together. The opening rose in May was not more
sweet than this dear girl. An irradiation of beauty was spread over her face.
Her form, her step, her voice--my heart weeps even now, to think of all of
relying, gentle, loving, and pure, that was enshrined in that celestial
tenement. When I was eleven and Juliet eight years of age, a cousin of mine,
much older than either--he seemed to us a man--took great notice of my
playmate; he called her his bride, and asked her to marry him. She refused, and
he insisted, drawing her unwillingly towards him. With the countenance and
emotions of a maniac I threw myself on him--I strove to draw his sword--I clung
to his neck with the ferocious resolve to strangle him: he was obliged to call
for assistance to disengage himself from me. On that night I led Juliet to the
chapel of our house: I made her touch the sacred relics--I harrowed her child's
heart, and profaned her child's lips with an oath, that she would be mine, and
mine only.
Well, those days passed away.
Torella returned in a few years, and became wealthier and more prosperous than
ever. When I was seventeen my father died; he had been magnificent to
prodigality; Torella rejoiced that my minority would afford an opportunity for
repairing my fortunes. Juliet and I had been affianced beside my father's
deathbed--Torella was to be a second parent to me.
I desired to see the world, and I
was indulged. I went to Florence, to Rome, to Naples; thence I passed to
Toulon, and at length reached what had long been the bourne of my wishes,
Paris. There was wild work in Paris then. The poor king, Charles the Sixth, now
sane, now mad, now a monarch, now an abject slave, was the very mockery of
humanity. The queen, the dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy, alternately friends and
foes now meeting in prodigal feasts, now shedding blood in rivalry-were blind
to the miserable state of their country, and the dangers that impended over it,
and gave themselves wholly up to dissolute enjoyment or savage strife. My
character still followed me. I was arrogant and selfwilled; I loved display,
and above all, I threw all control far from me. Who could control me in Paris?
My young friends were eager to foster passions which furnished them with
pleasures. I was deemed handsome--I was master of every knightly
accomplishment. I was disconnected with any political party. I grew a favourite
with all: my presumption and arrogance were pardoned in one so young: I became
a spoiled child. Who could control me? not the letters and advice of
Torella--only strong necessity visiting me in the abhorred shape of an empty
purse. But there were means to refill this void. Acre after acre, estate after
estate, I sold. My dress, my jewels, my horses and their caparisons, were
almost unrivalled in gorgeous Paris, while the lands of my inheritance passed
into possession of others.
The Duke of Orleans was waylaid
and murdered by the Duke of Burgundy. Fear and terror possessed all Paris. The
dauphin and the queen shut themselves up; every pleasure was suspended. 1 grew
weary of this state of things, and my heart yearned for my boyhood's haunts. I
was nearly a beggar, yet still I would go there, claim my bride, and rebuild my
fortunes. A few happy ventures as a merchant would make me rich again.
Nevertheless, I would not return in humble guise. My last act was to dispose of
my remaining estate near Albaro for half its worth, for ready money. Then I
despatched all kinds of artificers, arras, furniture of regal splendour, to fit
up the last relic of my inheritance, my palace in Genoa. I lingered a little
longer yet, ashamed at the part of the prodigal returned, which I feared I
should play. I sent my horses. One matchless Spanish jennet I despatched to my
promised bride; its caparisons flamed with jewels and cloth of gold. In every
part I caused to be entwined the initials of Juliet and her Guido. My present
found favour in hers and in her father's eyes.
Still to return a proclaimed
spendthrift, the mark of impertinent wonder, perhaps of scorn, and to encounter
singly the reproaches or taunts of my fellow-citizens, was no alluring
prospect. As a shield between me and censure, I invited some few of the most
reckless of my comrades to accompany me: thus I went armed against the world,
hiding a rankling feeling, half fear and half penitence, by bravado and an
insolent display of satisfied vanity.
I arrived in Genoa. I trod the
pavement of my ancestral palace. My proud step was no interpreter of my heart,
for I deeply felt that, though surrounded by every luxury, I was a beggar. The
first step I took in claiming Juliet must widely declare me such. I read
contempt or pity in the looks of all. I fancied, so apt is conscience to
imagine what it deserves, that rich and poor, young and old, all regarded me
with derision. Torella came not near me. No wonder that my second father should
expect a son's deference from me in waiting first on him. But, galled and stung
by a sense of my follies and demerit, I strove to throw the blame on others. We
kept nightly orgies in Palazzo Carega. To sleepless, riotous nights, followed
listless, supine mornings. At the Ave Maria we showed our dainty persons in the
streets, scoffing at the sober citizens, casting insolent glances on the
shrinking women. Juliet was not among them--no, no; if she had been there,
shame would have driven me away, if love had not brought me to her feet.
I grew tired of this. Suddenly I
paid the Marchese a visit. He was at his villa, one among the many which deck
the suburb of San Pietro d'Arena. It was the month of May--a month of May in
that garden of the world the blossoms of the fruit trees were fading among
thick, green foliage; the vines were shooting forth; the ground strewed with
the fallen olive blooms; the fire-fly was in the myrtle hedge; heaven and earth
wore a mantle of surpassing beauty. Torella welcomed me kindly, though
seriously; and even his shade of displeasure soon wore away. Some resemblance
to my father-some look and tone of youthful ingenuousness, lurking still in
spite of my misdeeds, softened the good old man's heart. He sent *for his
daughter-he presented me to her as her betrothed. The chamber became hallowed
by a holy light as she entered. Hers was that cherub look, those large, soft
eyes, full dimpled cheeks, and mouth of infantine sweetness, that expresses the
rare union of happiness and love. Admiration first possessed me; she is mine!
was the second proud emotion, and my lips curled with haughty triumph. I had
not been the enfant gate (Literally "spoiled child," but here
"pampered darling.") of the beauties of France not to have learnt the
art of pleasing the soft heart of woman. If towards men I was overbearing, the
deference I paid to them was the more in contrast. I commenced my courtship by
the display of a thousand gallantries to Juliet, who, vowed to me from infancy,
had never admitted the devotion of others; and who, though accustomed to
expressions of admiration, was uninitiated in the language of lovers.
For a few days all went well.
Torella never alluded to my extravagance; he treated me as a favourite son. But
the time came, as we discussed the preliminaries to my union with his daughter,
when this fair face of things should be overcast. A contract had been drawn up
in my father's lifetime. I had rendered this, in fact, void, by having
squandered the whole of the wealth which was to have been shared by Juliet and
myself. Torella, in consequence, chose to consider this bond as cancelled, and
proposed another, in which, though the wealth he bestowed was immeasurably
increased, there were so many restrictions as to the mode of spending it, that
I, who saw independence only in free career being given to my own imperious
will, taunted him as taking advantage of my situation, and refused utterly to
subscribe to his conditions. The old man mildly strove to recall me to reason.
Roused pride became the tyrant of my thought: I listened with indignaton--I
repelled him with disdain.
"Juliet, thou art mine! Did
we not interchange vows in our innocent childhood? are we not one in the sight
of God? and shall thy cold-hearted, cold-blooded father divide us? Be generous,
my love, be just; take not away a gift, last treasure of thy Guido--retract not
thy vows--let us defy the world, and setting at nought the calculations of age,
find in our mutual affection a refuge from every ill."
Fiend I must have been, with such
sophistry to endeavour to poison that sanctuary of holy thought and tender
love. Juliet shrank from me affrighted. Her father was the best and kindest of
men, and she strove to show me how, in obeying him, every good would follow. He
would receive my tardy submission with warm affection; and generous pardon
would follow my repentance. Profitless words for a young and gentle daughter to
use to a man accustomed to make his will, law; and to feel in his own heart a
despot so terrible and stern, that he could yield obedience to nought save his
own imperious desires! My resentment grew with resistance; my wild companions
were ready to add fuel to the flame. We laid a plan to carry off Juliet. At
first it appeared to be crowned with success. Midway, on our return, we were
overtaken by the agonized father and his attendants. A conflict ensued. Before
the city guard came to decide the victory in favour of our antagonists, two of Torella's
servitors were dangerously wounded.
This portion of my history weighs
most heavily with me. Changed man as I am, I abhor myself in the recollection.
May none who hear this tale ever have felt as I. A horse driven to fury by a
rider armed with barbed spurs, was not more a slave than I, to the violent
tyranny of my temper. A fiend possessed my soul, irritating it to madness. I
felt the voice of conscience within me; but if I yielded to it for a brief
interval, it was only to be a moment after torn, as by a whirlwind, away--borne
along on the stream of desperate rage--the plaything of the storms engendered
by pride. I was imprisoned, and, at the instance of Torella, set free. Again I
returned to carry off both him and his child to France; which hapless country,
then preyed on by freebooters and gangs of lawless soldiery, offered a grateful
refuge to a criminal like me. Our plots were discovered. I was sentenced to
banishment; and, as my debts were already enormous, my remaining property was
put in the hands of commissioners for their payment. Torella again offered his
mediation, requiring only my promise not to renew my abortive attempts on
himself and his daughter. I spurned his offers, and fancied that I triumphed
when I was thrust out from Genoa, a solitary and penniless exile. My companions
were gone: they had been dismissed the city some weeks before, and were already
in France. I was alone--friendless; with nor sword at my side, nor ducat in my
purse.
I wandered along the sea-shore, a
whirlwind of passion possessing and tearing my soul. It was as if a live coal
had been set burning in my breast. At first I meditated on what I should do. I
would join a band of freebooters. Revenge!--the word seemed balm to me:--I
hugged it--caressed it--till, like a serpent, it stung me. Then again I would
abjure and despise Genoa, that little corner of the world. I would return to
Paris, where so many of my friends swarmed; where my services would be eagerly
accepted; where I would carve out fortune with my sword, and might, through
success, make my paltry birth-place, and the false Torella, rue the day when
they drove me, a new Coriolanus, from her walls. I would return to Paris-thus,
on foot--a beggar--and present myself in my poverty to those I had formerly
entertained sumptuously? There was gall in the mere thought of it.
The reality of things began to
dawn upon my mind, bringing despair in its train. For several months I had been
a prisoner: the evils of my dungeon had whipped my soul to madness, but they
had subdued my corporeal frame. I was weak and wan. Torella. had used a
thousand artifices to administer to my comfort; I had detected and scorned them
all-and I reaped the harvest of my obduracy. What was to be done? Should I
crouch before my foe, and sue for forgiveness?--Die rather ten thousand
deaths!--Never should they obtain that victory! Hate--I swore eternal hate!
Hate from whom?--to whom?--From a wandering outcast to a mighty noble. I and my
feelings were nothing to them: already had they forgotten one so unworthy. And
Juliet!--her angel-face and sylphlike form gleamed among the clouds of my
despair with vain beauty; for I had lost her--the glory and flower of the
world! Another will call her his!--that smile of paradise will bless another!
Even now my heart fails within me
when I recur to this rout of grim-visaged ideas. Now subdued almost to tears,
now raving in my agony, still I wandered along the rocky shore, which grew at
each step wilder and more desolate. Hanging rocks and hoar precipices overlooked
the tideless ocean; black caverns yawned; and for ever, among the seaworn
recesses, murmured and dashed the unfruitful waters. Now my way was almost
barred by an abrupt promontory, now rendered nearly impracticable by fragments
fallen from the cliff. Evening was at hand, when, seaward, arose, as if on the
waving of a wizard's wand, a murky web of clouds, blotting the late azure sky,
and darkening and disturbing the till now placid deep. The clouds had strange
fantastic shapes; and they changed, and mingled, and seemed to be driven about
by a mighty spell. The waves raised their white crests; the thunder first
muttered, then roared from across the waste of waters, which took a deep purple
dye, flecked with foam. The spot where I stood, looked, on one side, to the
wide-spread ocean; on the other, it was barred by a rugged promontory. Round
this cape suddenly came, driven by the wind, a vessel. In vain the mariners
tried to force a path for her to the open sea--the gale drove her on the rocks.
It will perish!--all on board will perish!--Would I were among them! And to my
young heart the idea of death came for the first time blended with that of joy.
It was an awful sight to behold that vessel struggling with her fate. Hardly
could I discern the sailors, but I heard them. It was soon all over!--A rock,
just covered by the tossing waves, and so unperceived, lay in wait for its
prey. A crash of thunder broke over my head at the moment that, with a
frightful shock, the skiff dashed upon her unseen enemy. In a brief space of
time she went to pieces. There I stood in safety; and there were my
fellow-creatures, battling, how hopelessly, with annihilation. Methought I saw
them struggling--too truly did I hear their shrieks, conquering the barking
surges in their shrill agony. The dark breakers threw hither and thither the
fragments of the wreck: soon it disappeared. I had been fascinated to gaze till
the end: at last 1 sank on my knees--I covered my face with my hands: I again
looked up; something was floating on the billows towards the shore. It neared
and neared. Was that a human form?--It grew more distinct; and at last a mighty
wave, lifting the whole freight, lodged it upon a rock. A human being
bestriding a sea-chest!--A human being!--Yet was it one? Surely never such had
existed before-a misshapen dwarf, with squinting eyes, distorted features, and
body deformed, till it became a horror to behold. My blood, lately warming
towards a fellow-being so snatched from a watery tomb, froze in my heart. The
dwarf got off his chest; he tossed his straight, straggling hair from his
odious visage:
"By St. Beelzebub!" he
exclaimed, "I have been well bested." He looked round and saw me.
"Oh, by the fiend! here is another ally of the mighty one. To what saint
did you offer prayers, friend--if not to mine? Yet I remember you not on
board."
I shrank from the monster and his
blasphemy. Again he questioned me, and I muttered some inaudible reply. He
continued:--
"Your voice is drowned by
this dissonant roar. What a noise the big ocean makes! Schoolboys bursting from
their prison are not louder than these waves set free to play. They disturb me.
I will no more of their illtimed brawling.--Silence, hoary One!--Winds,
avaunt!--to your homes! Clouds, fly to the antipodes, and leave our heaven
clear!"
As he spoke, he stretched out his
two long lank arms, that looked like spider's claws, and seemed to embrace with
them the expanse before him. Was it a miracle? The clouds became broken, and
fled; the azure sky first peeped out, and then was spread a calm field of blue
above us; the stormy gale was exchanged to the softly breathing west; the sea
grew calm; the waves dwindled to riplets.
"I like obedience even in
these stupid elements," said the dwarf. "How much more in the
tameless mind of man! It was a well got up storm, you must allow--and all of my
own making."
It was tempting Providence to
interchange talk with this magician. But Power, in all its shapes, is venerable
to man. Awe, curiosity, a clinging fascination, drew me towards him.
"Come, don't be frightened,
friend," said the wretch: "I am good humoured when pleased; and
something does please me in your well proportioned body and handsome face,
though you look a little woebegone. You have suffered a land-1, a sea wreck.
Perhaps I can allay the tempest of your fortunes as I did my own. Shall we be
friends?"--And he held out his hand; I could not touch it. "Well,
then, companions--that will do as well. And now, while I rest after the
buffeting I underwent just now, tell me why, young and gallant as you seem, you
wander thus alone and downcast on this wild sea-shore."
The voice of the wretch was
screeching and horrid, and his contortions as he spoke were frightful to
behold. Yet he did gain a kind of influence over me, which I could not master,
and I told him my tale. When it was ended, he laughed long and loud: the rocks
echoed back the sound: hell seemed yelling around me.
"Oh, thou cousin of
Lucifer!" said he; "so thou too hast fallen through thy pride; and,
though bright as the son of Morning, thou art ready to give up thy good looks,
thy bride, and thy well-being, rather than submit thee to the tyranny of good.
I honour thy choice, by my soul!--So thou hast fled, and yield the day; and
mean to starve on these rocks, and to let the birds peck out thy dead eyes,
while thy enemy and thy betrothed rejoice in thy ruin. Thy pride is strangely
akin to humility, methinks."
As he spoke, a thousand fanged
thoughts stung me to the heart.
"What would you that I
should do?" I cried.
"I!--Oh, nothing, but lie
down and say your prayers before you die. But, were I you, I know the deed that
should be done."
I drew near him. His supernatural
powers made him an oracle in my eyes; yet a strange unearthly thrill quivered
through my frame as I said, "Speak!--teach me--what act do you
advise?"
"Revenge thyself,
man!--humble thy enemies!--set thy foot on the old man's neck, and possess
thyself of his daughter!"
"To the east and west I
turn," cried I, "and see no means! Had I gold, much could I achieve;
but, poor and single, I am powerless."
The dwarf had been seated on his
chest as he listened to my story. Now he got off; he touched a spring; it flew
open!--What a mine of wealth--of blazing jewels, beaming gold, and pale
silver-was displayed therein. A mad desire to possess this treasure was born
within me.
"Doubtless," I said,
"one so powerful as you could do all things."
"Nay," said the
monster, humbly, "I am less omnipotent than I seem. Some things I possess
which you may covet; but I would give them all for a small share, or even for a
loan of what is yours."
"My possessions are at your
service," I replied, bitterly--"my poverty, my exile, my disgrace--I
make a free gift of them all."
"Good! I thank you. Add one
other thing to your gift, and my treasure is yours."
"As nothing is my sole
inheritance, what besides nothing would you have?"
"Your comely face and
well-made limbs."
I shivered. Would this
all-powerful monster murder me? I had no dagger. I forgot to pray--but I grew
pale.
"I ask for a loan, not a
gift," said the frightful thing: "lend me your body for three
days--you shall have mine to cage your soul the while, and, in payment, my
chest. What say you to the bargain?--Three short days."
We are told that it is dangerous
to hold unlawful talk; and well do I prove the same. Tamely written down, it
may seem incredible that I should lend any ear to this proposition; but, in
spite of his unnatural ugliness, there was something fascinating in a being
whose voice could govern earth, air, and sea. I felt a keen desire to comply;
for with that chest I could command the world. My only hesitation resulted from
a fear that he would not be true to his bargain. Then, I thought, I shall soon
die here on these lonely sands, and the limbs he covets will be mine no
more:--it is worth the chance. And, besides, I knew that, by all the rules of
art-magic, there were formula and oaths which none of its practisers dared
break. I hesitated to reply; and he went on, now displaying his wealth, now
speaking of the petty price he demanded, till it seemed madness to refuse. Thus
is it: place our bark in the current of the stream, and down, over fall and
cataract it is hurried; give up our conduct to the wild torrent of passion, and
we are away, we know not whither.
He swore many an oath, and I
adjured him by many a sacred name; till I saw this wonder of power, this ruler
of the elements, shiver like an autumn leaf before my words; and as if the
spirit spake unwillingly and per force within him, at last, lie, with broken
voice, revealed the spell whereby he might be obliged, did he wish to play me
false, to render up the unlawful spoil. Our warm life-blood must mingle to make
and to mar the charm.
Enough of this unholy theme. I
was persuaded--the thing was done. The morrow dawned upon me as I lay upon the
shingles, and I knew not my own shadow as it fell from me. I felt myself
changed to a shape of horror, and cursed my easy faith and blind credulity. The
chest was there--there the gold and precious stones for which I had sold the
frame of flesh which nature had given me. The sight a little stilled my
emotions: three days would soon be gone.
They did pass. The dwarf had
supplied me with a plenteous store of food. At first I could hardly walk, so
strange and out of joint were all my limbs; and my voice--it was that of the
fiend. But I kept silent, and turned my face to the sun, that I might not see
my shadow, and counted the hours, and ruminated on my future conduct. To bring
Torella to my feet--to possess my Juliet in spite of him--all this my wealth
could easily achieve. During dark night 1 slept, and dreamt of the
accomplishment of my desires. Two suns had set-the third dawned. I was
agitated, fearful. Oh expectation, what a frightful thing art thou, when
kindled more by fear than hope! How dost thou twist thyself round the heart,
torturing its pulsations! How dost thou dart unknown pangs all through our
feeble mechanism, now seeming to shiver us like broken glass, to nothingness
now giving us a fresh strength, which can do nothing, and so torments us by a
sensation, such as the strong man must feel who cannot break his fetters,
though they bend in his grasp. Slowly paced the bright, bright orb up the
eastern sky; long it lingered in the zenith, and still more slowly wandered
down the west: it touched the horizon's verge--it was lost! Its glories were on
the summits of the cliff--they grew dun and gray. The evening star shone
bright. He will soon be here.
He came not!--By the living
heavens, he came not!--and night dragged out its weary length, and, in its
decaying age, "day began to grizzle its dark hair;" (Lord Byron,
Werner III.iv.152-53.) and the sun rose again on the most miserable wretch that
ever upbraided its light. Three days thus I passed. The jewels and the
gold--oh, how I abhorred them!
Well, well--I will not blacken these
pages with demoniac ravings. All too terrible were the thoughts, the raging
tumult of ideas that filled my soul. At the end of that time I slept; I had not
before since the third sunset; and I dreamt that I was at Juliet's feet, and
she smiled, and then she shrieked--for she saw my transformation--and again she
smiled, for still her beautiful lover knelt before her. But it was not I--it
was he, the fiend, arrayed in my limbs, speaking with my voice, winning her
with my looks of love. I strove to warn her, but my tongue refused its office;
I strove to tear him from her, but I was rooted to the ground--I awoke with the
agony. There were the solitary hoar precipices--there the plashing sea, the
quiet strand, and the blue sky over all. What did it mean? was my dream but a
mirror of the truth? was he wooing and winning my betrothed? I would on the
instant back to Genoa--but I was banished. I laughed--the dwarf's yell burst
from my lips--I banished! 0, no! they had not exiled the foul limbs I wore; 1
might with these enter, without fear of incurring the threatened penalty of
death, my own, my native city.
I began to walk towards Genoa. I
was somewhat accustomed to my distorted limbs; none were ever so ill adapted
for a straight-forward movement; it was with infinite difficulty that I
proceeded. Then, too, I desired to avoid all the hamlets strewed here and there
on the sea-beach, for I was unwilling to make a display of my hideousness. I
was not quite sure that, if seen, the mere boys would not stone me to death as
I passed, for a monster: some ungentle salutations I did receive from the few
peasants or fishermen I chanced to meet. But it was dark night before I
approached Genoa. The weather was so balmy and sweet that it struck me that the
Marchese and his daughter would very probably have quitted the city for their
country retreat. It was from Villa Torella that I had attempted to carry off
Juliet; I had spent many an hour reconnoitering the spot, and knew each inch of
ground in its vicinity. It was beautifully situated, embosomed in trees, on the
margin of a stream. As I drew near, it became evident that my conjecture was
right; nay, moreover, that the hours were being then devoted to feasting and
merriment. For the house was lighted up; strains of soft and gay music were
wafted towards me by the breeze. My heart sank within me. Such was the generous
kindness of Torella's heart that I felt sure that he would not have indulged in
public manifestations of rejoicing just after my unfortunate banishment, but
for a cause I dared not dwell upon.
The country people were all alive
and flocking about; it became necessary that I should study to conceal myself;
and yet I longed to address some one, or to hear others discourse, or in any
way to gain intelligence of what was really going on. At length, entering the
walks that were in immediate vicinity to the mansion, I found one dark enough
to veil my excessive frightfulness; and yet others as well as I were loitering
in its shade. I soon gathered all I wanted to know--all that first made my very
heart die with horror, and then boil with indignation. To-morrow Juliet was to
be given to the penitent, reformed, beloved Guido--to-morrow my bride was to
pledge her vows to a fiend from hell! And I did this!--my accursed pride--my
demoniac violence and wicked self-idolatry had caused this act. For if I had
acted as the wretch who had stolen my form had acted-if, with a mien at once
yielding and dignified, I had presented myself to Torella, saying, I have done
wrong, forgive me; I am unworthy of your angel-child, but permit me to claim
her hereafter, when my altered conduct shall manifest that I abjure my vices,
and endeavour to become in some sort worthy of her. I go to serve against the
infidels; and when my zeal for religion and my true penitence for the past shall
appear to you to cancel my crimes, permit me again to call myself your son.
Thus had he spoken; and the penitent was welcomed even as the prodigal son of
scripture: the fatted calf was killed for him; and he, still pursuing the same
path, displayed such open-hearted regret for his follies, so humble a
concession of all his rights, and so ardent a resolve to reacquire them by a
life of contrition and virtue, that he quickly conquered the kind, old man; and
full pardon, and the gift of his lovely child, followed in swift succession.
0! had an angel from Paradise
whispered to me to act thus! But now, what would be the innocent Juliet's fate?
Would God permit the foul union--or, some prodigy destroying it, link the
dishonoured name of Carega with the worst of crimes? To-morrow at dawn they
were to be married: there was but one way to prevent this--to meet mine enemy,
and to enforce the ratification of our agreement. I felt that this could only
be done by a mortal struggle. I had no sword--if indeed my distorted arms could
wield a soldier's weapon--but I had a dagger, and in that lay my every hope.
There was no time for pondering or balancing nicely the question: I might die
in the attempt; but besides the burning jealousy and despair of my own heart,
honour, mere humanity, demanded that I should fall rather than not destroy the
machinations of the fiend.
The guests departed-the lights
began to disappear; it was evident that the inhabitants of the villa were
seeking repose. I hid myself among the trees--the garden grew desert--the gates
were closed--I wandered round and came under a window-ah! well did I know the
same!--a soft twilight glimmered in the room--the curtains were half withdrawn.
It was the temple of innocence and beauty. Its magnificence was tempered, as it
were, by the slight disarrangements occasioned by its being dwelt in, and all
the objects scattered around displayed the taste of her who hallowed it by her
presence. I saw her enter with a quick light step-I saw her approach the
window-she drew back the curtain yet further, and looked out into the night.
Its breezy freshness played among her ringlets, and wafted them from the
transparent marble of her brow. She clasped her hands, she raised her eyes to
Heaven. I heard her voice. Guido! she softly murmured, Mine own Guido! and
then, as if overcome by the fullness of her own heart, she sank on her
knees:--her upraised eyes--her negligent but graceful attitude--the beaming
thankfulness that lighted up her face--oh, these are tame words! Heart of mine,
thou imagest ever, though thou canst not pourtray, the celestial beauty of that
child of light and love.
I heard a step-a quick firm step
along the shady avenue. Soon I saw a cavalier, richly dressed, young and,
methought, graceful to look on, advance.--I hid myself yet closer.-The youth
approached; he paused beneath the window. She arose, and again looking out she
saw him, and said--I cannot, no, at this distant time I cannot record her terms
of soft silver tenderness; to me they were spoken, but they were replied to by
him.
"I will not go," he
cried: "here where you have been, where your memory glides like some
Heaven-visiting ghost, I will pass the long hours till we meet, never, my
Juliet, again, day or night, to part. But do thou, my love, retire; the cold
morn and fitful breeze will make thy cheek pale, and fill with languor thy
love-lighted eyes. Ah, sweetest! could I press one kiss upon them, I could,
methinks, repose."
And then he approached still
nearer, and methought lie was about to clamber into her chamber. I had
hesitated, not to terrify her; now I was no longer master of myself. I rushed
forward--I threw myself on him--I tore him away--I cried, "0 loathsome and
foul-shaped wretch!"
I need not repeat epithets, all
tending, as it appeared, to rail at a person I at present feel some partiality
for. A shriek rose from Juliet's lips. I neither heard nor saw--I felt only
mine enemy, whose throat I grasped, and my dagger's hilt; he struggled, but
could not escape: at length hoarsely he breathed these words: "Do!--strike
home! destroy this body--you will still live: may your life be long and
merry!"
The descending dagger was
arrested at the word, and he, feeling my hold relax, extricated himself and
drew his sword, while the uproar in the house, and flying of torches from one
room to the other, showed that soon we should be separated--and I--oh! far
better die: so that he did not survive, I cared not. In the midst of my frenzy
there was much calculation:--fall I might, and so that he did not survive, I
cared not for the death-blow I might deal against myself. While still,
therefore, he thought I paused, and while I saw the villanous resolve to take
advantage of my hesitation, in the sudden thrust he made at me, I threw myself
on his sword, and at the same moment plunged my dagger, with a true desperate
aim, in his side. We fell together, rolling over each other, and the tide of
blood that flowed from the gaping wound of each mingled on the grass. More I
know not--I fainted.
Again I returned to life: weak
almost to death, I found myself stretched upon a bed--Juliet was kneeling
beside it. Strange! my first broken request was for a mirror. I was so wan and
ghastly, that my poor girl hesitated, as she told me afterwards; but, by the
mass! I thought myself a right proper youth when I saw the dear reflection of
my own well-known features. I confess it is a weakness, but I avow it, I do
entertain a considerable affection for the countenance and limbs I behold,
whenever I look at a glass; and have more mirrors in my house, and consult them
oftener than any beauty in Venice. Before you too much condemn me, permit me to
say that no one better knows than I the value of his own body; no one,
probably, except myself, ever having had it stolen from him.
Incoherently I at first talked of
the dwarf and his crimes, and reproached Juliet for her too easy admission of
his love. She thought me raving, as well she might, and yet it was some time
before I could prevail on myself to admit that the Guido whose penitence had won
her back for me was myself; and while I cursed bitterly the monstrous dwarf,
and blest the well-directed blow that had deprived him of life, I suddenly
checked myself when I heard her say-Amen! knowing that him whom she reviled was
my very self. A little reflection taught me silence-a little practice enabled
me to speak of that frightful night without any very excessive blunder. The
wound I had given myself was no mockery of one--it was long before I
recovered--and as the benevolent and generous Torella sat beside me, talking
such wisdom as might win friends to repentance, and mine own dear Juliet
hovered near me, administering to my wants, and cheering me by her smiles, the
work of my bodily cure and mental reform went on together. I have never, indeed,
wholly recovered my strength my cheek is paler since--my person a little bent.
Juliet sometimes ventures to allude bitterly to the malice that caused this
change, but I kiss her on the moment, and tell her all is for the best. I am a
fonder and more faithful husband--and true is this--but for that wound, never
had I called her mine.
I did not revisit the sea-shore,
nor seek for the fiend's treasure; yet, while I ponder on the past, I often
think, and my confessor was not backward in favouring the idea, that it might
be a good rather than an evil spirit, sent by my guardian angel, to show me the
folly and misery of pride. So well at least did I learn this lesson, roughly
taught as I was, that I am known now by all my friends and fellow-citizens by
the name of Guido il Cortese.