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Chapter VII

Published onJun 17, 2019
Chapter VII

Chapter VII.

We passed a few sad hours, until eleven o’clock, when the trial was to commence. My father and the rest of the family being obliged to attend as witnesses, I accompanied them to the court. During the whole of this wretched mockery of justice, I suffered living torture. It was to be decided, whether the result of my curiosity and lawless devices would cause the death of two of my fellow-beings: one a smiling babe, full of innocence and joy; the other far more dreadfully murdered, with every aggravation of infamy that could make the murder memorable in horror. Justine also was a girl of merit, and possessed qualities which promised to render her life happy: now all was to be obliterated in an ignominious grave; and I the cause! A thousand times rather would I have confessed myself guilty of the crime ascribed to Justine; but I was absent when it was committed, and such a declaration would have been considered as the ravings of a madman, and would not have exculpated her who suffered through me.

The appearance of Justine was calm. She was dressed in mourning; and her countenance, always engaging, was rendered, by the solemnity of her feelings, exquisitely beautiful. Yet she appeared confident in innocence, and did not tremble, although gazed on and execrated by thousands; for all the kindness which her beauty might otherwise have excited, was obliterated in the minds of the spectators by the imagination of the enormity she was supposed to have committed. She was tranquil, yet her tranquillity was evidently constrained; and as her confusion had before been adduced as a proof of her guilt, she worked up her mind to an appearance of courage. When she entered the court, she threw her eyes round it, and quickly discovered where we were seated. A tear seemed to dim her eye when she saw us; but she quickly recovered herself, and a look of sorrowful affection seemed to attest her utter guiltlessness.

The trial began; and after the advocate against her had stated the charge, several witnesses were called. Several strange facts combined against her, which might have staggered any one who had not such proof of her innocence as I had. She had been out the whole of the night on which the murder had been committed, and towards morning had been perceived by a market-woman not far from the spot where the body of the murdered child had been afterwards found. The woman asked her what she did there; but she looked very strangely, and only returned a confused and unintelligible answer. She returned to the house about eight o’clock; and when one inquired where she had passed the night, she replied, that she had been looking for the child, and demanded earnestly, if any thing had been heard concerning him. When shewn the body, she fell into violent hysterics, and kept her bed for several days. The picture was then produced, which the servant had found in her pocket; and when Elizabeth, in a faltering voice, proved that it was the same which, an hour before the child had been missed, she had placed round his neck, a murmur of horror and indignation filled the court.

Justine was called on for her defence. As the trial had proceeded, her countenance had altered. Surprise, horror, and misery, were strongly expressed. Sometimes she struggled with her tears; but when she was desired to plead, she collected her powers, and spoke in an audible although variable voice:—

“God knows,” she said, “how entirely I am innocent. But I do not pretend that my protestations should acquit me: I rest my innocence on a plain and simple explanation of the facts which have been adduced against me; and I hope the character I have always borne will incline my judges to a favourable interpretation, where any circumstance appears doubtful or suspicious.”

She then related that, by the permission of Elizabeth, she had passed the evening of the night on which the murder had been committed, at the house of an aunt at Chêne, a village situated at about a league from Geneva. On her return, at about nine o’clock, she met a man, who asked her if she had seen any thing of the child who was lost. She was alarmed by this account, and passed several hours in looking for him, when the gates of Geneva were shut, and she was forced to remain several hours of the night in a barn belonging to a cottage, being unwilling to call up the inhabitants, to whom she was well known. Unable to rest or sleep, she quitted her asylum early, that she might again endeavour to find my brother. If she had gone near the spot where his body lay, it was without her knowledge. That she had been bewildered when questioned by the market-woman, was not surprising, since she had passed a sleepless night, and the fate of poor William was yet uncertain. Concerning the picture she could give no account.

“I know,” continued the unhappy victim, “how heavily and fatally this one circumstance weighs against me, but I have no power of explaining it; and when I have expressed my utter ignorance, I am only left to conjecture concerning the probabilities by which it might have been placed in my pocket. But here also I am checked. I believe that I have no enemy on earth, and none surely would have been so wicked as to destroy me wantonly. Did the murderer place it there? I know of no opportunity afforded him for so doing; or if I had, why should he have stolen the jewel, to part with it again so soon?

“I commit my cause to the justice of my judges, yet I see no room for hope. I beg permission to have a few witnesses examined concerning my character; and if their testimony shall not overweigh my supposed guilt, I must be condemned, although I would pledge my salvation on my innocence.”

Several witnesses were called, who had known her for many years, and they spoke well of her; but fear, and hatred of the crime of which they supposed her guilty, rendered them timorous, and unwilling to come forward. Elizabeth saw even this last resource, her excellent dispositions and irreproachable conduct, about to fail the accused, when, although violently agitated, she desired permission to address the court.

“I am,” said she, “the cousin of the unhappy child who was murdered, or rather his sister, for I was educated by and have lived with his parents ever since and even long before his birth. It may therefore be judged indecent in me to come forward on this occasion; but when I see a fellow-creature about to perish through the cowardice of her pretended friends, I wish to be allowed to speak, that I may say what I know of her character. I am well acquainted with the accused. I have lived in the same house with her, at one time for five, and at another for nearly two years. During all that period she appeared to me the most amiable and benevolent of human creatures. She nursed Madame Frankenstein, my aunt, in her last illness with the greatest affection and care; and afterwards attended her own mother during a tedious illness, in a manner that excited the admiration of all who knew her. After which she again lived in my uncle’s house, where she was beloved by all the family. She was warmly attached to the child who is now dead, and acted towards him like a most affectionate mother. For my own part, I do not hesitate to say, that, notwithstanding all the evidence produced against her, I believe and rely on her perfect innocence. She had no temptation for such an action: as to the bauble on which the chief proof rests, if she had earnestly desired it, I should have willingly given it to her; so much do I esteem and value her.”

Excellent Elizabeth! A murmur of approbation was heard; but it was excited by her generous interference, and not in favour of poor Justine, on whom the public indignation was turned with renewed violence, charging her with the blackest ingratitude. She herself wept as Elizabeth spoke, but she did not answer. My own agitation and anguish was extreme during the whole trial. I believed in her innocence; I knew it. Could the dæmon, who had (I did not for a minute doubt) murdered my brother, also in his hellish sport have betrayed the innocent to death and ignominy. I could not sustain the horror of my situation; and when I perceived that the popular voice, and the countenances of the judges, had already condemned my unhappy victim, I rushed out of the court in agony. The tortures of the accused did not equal mine; she was sustained by innocence, but the fangs of remorse tore my bosom, and would not forego their hold.

I passed a night of unmingled wretchedness. In the morning I went to the court; my lips and throat were parched. I dared not ask the fatal question; but I was known, and the officer guessed the cause of my visit. The ballots had been thrown; they were all black, and Justine was condemned.

I cannot pretend to describe what I then felt. I had before experienced sensations of horror; and I have endeavoured to bestow upon them adequate expressions, but words cannot convey an idea of the heart-sickening despair that I then endured. The person to whom I addressed myself added, that Justine had already confessed her guilt. “That evidence,” he observed, “was hardly required in so glaring a case, but I am glad of it; and, indeed, none of our judges like to condemn a criminal upon circumstantial evidence, be it ever so decisive.”

When I returned home, Elizabeth eagerly demanded the result.

“My cousin,” replied I, “it is decided as you may have expected; all judges had rather that ten innocent should suffer, than that one guilty should escape. But she has confessed.”

This was a dire blow to poor Elizabeth, who had relied with firmness upon Justine’s innocence. “Alas!” said she, “how shall I ever again believe in human benevolence? Justine, whom I loved and esteemed as my sister, how could she put on those smiles of innocence only to betray; her mild eyes seemed incapable of any severity or ill-humour, and yet she has committed a murder.”

Soon after we heard that the poor victim had expressed a wish to see my cousin. My father wished her not to go; but said, that he left it to her own judgment and feelings to decide. “Yes,” said Elizabeth, “I will go, although she is guilty; and you, Victor, shall accompany me: I cannot go alone.” The idea of this visit was torture to me, yet I could not refuse.

We entered the gloomy prison-chamber, and beheld Justine sitting on some straw at the further end; her hands were manacled, and her head rested on her knees. She rose on seeing us enter; and when we were left alone with her, she threw herself at the feet of Elizabeth, weeping bitterly. My cousin wept also.

“Oh, Justine!” said she, “why did you rob me of my last consolation. I relied on your innocence; and although I was then very wretched, I was not so miserable as I am now.”

“And do you also believe that I am so very, very wicked? Do you also join with my enemies to crush me?” Her voice was suffocated with sobs.

“Rise, my poor girl,” said Elizabeth, “why do you kneel, if you are innocent? I am not one of your enemies; I believed you guiltless, notwithstanding every evidence, until I heard that you had yourself declared your guilt. That report, you say, is false; and be assured, dear Justine, that nothing can shake my confidence in you for a moment, but your own confession.”

“I did confess; but I confessed a lie. I confessed, that I might obtain absolution; but now that falsehood lies heavier at my heart than all my other sins. The God of heaven forgive me! Ever since I was condemned, my confessor has besieged me; he threatened and menaced, until I almost began to think that I was the monster that he said I was. He threatened excommunication and hell fire in my last moments, if I continued obdurate. Dear lady, I had none to support me; all looked on me as a wretch doomed to ignominy and perdition. What could I do? In an evil hour I subscribed to a lie; and now only am I truly miserable.”

She paused, weeping, and then continued—“I thought with horror, my sweet lady, that you should believe your Justine, whom your blessed aunt had so highly honoured, and whom you loved, was a creature capable of a crime which none but the devil himself could have perpetrated. Dear William! dearest blessed child! I soon shall see you again in heaven, where we shall all be happy; and that consoles me, going as I am to suffer ignominy and death.”

“Oh, Justine! forgive me for having for one moment distrusted you. Why did you confess? But do not mourn, my dear girl; I will every where proclaim your innocence, and force belief. Yet you must die; you, my playfellow, my companion, my more than sister. I never can survive so horrible a misfortune.”

“Dear, sweet Elizabeth, do not weep. You ought to raise me with thoughts of a better life, and elevate me from the petty cares of this world of injustice and strife. Do not you, excellent friend, drive me to despair.”

“I will try to comfort you; but this, I fear, is an evil too deep and poignant to admit of consolation, for there is no hope. Yet heaven bless thee, my dearest Justine, with resignation, and a confidence elevated beyond this world. Oh! how I hate its shews and mockeries! when one creature is murdered, another is immediately deprived of life in a slow torturing manner; then the executioners, their hands yet reeking with the blood of innocence, believe that they have done a great deed. They call this retribution. Hateful name! When that word is pronounced, I know greater and more horrid punishments are going to be inflicted than the gloomiest tyrant has ever invented to satiate his utmost revenge. Yet this is not consolation for you, my Justine, unless indeed that you may glory in escaping from so miserable a den. Alas! I would I were in peace with my aunt and my lovely William, escaped from a world which is hateful to me, and the visages of men which I abhor.”

Justine smiled languidly. “This, dear lady, is despair, and not resignation. I must not learn the lesson that you would teach me. Talk of something else, something that will bring peace, and not increase of misery.”

During this conversation I had retired to a corner of the prison-room, where I could conceal the horrid anguish that possessed me. Despair! Who dared talk of that? The poor victim, who on the morrow was to pass the dreary boundary between life and death, felt not as I did, such deep and bitter agony. I gnashed my teeth, and ground them together, uttering a groan that came from my inmost soul. Justine started. When she saw who it was, she approached me, and said, “Dear Sir, you are very kind to visit me; you, I hope, do not believe that I am guilty.”

I could not answer. “No, Justine,” said Elizabeth; “he is more convinced of your innocence than I was; for even when he heard that you had confessed, he did not credit it.”

“I truly thank him. In these last moments I feel the sincerest gratitude towards those who think of me with kindness. How sweet is the affection of others to such a wretch as I am! It removes more than half my misfortune; and I feel as if I could die in peace, now that my innocence is acknowledged by you, dear lady, and your cousin.”

Thus the poor sufferer tried to comfort others and herself. She indeed gained the resignation she desired. But I, the true murderer, felt the never-dying worm alive in my bosom, which allowed of no hope or consolation. Elizabeth also wept, and was unhappy; but her’s also was the misery of innocence, which, like a cloud that passes over the fair moon, for a while hides, but cannot tarnish its brightness. Anguish and despair had penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell within me, which nothing could extinguish. We staid several hours with Justine; and it was with great difficulty that Elizabeth could tear herself away. “I wish,” cried she, “that I were to die with you; I cannot live in this world of misery.”

Justine assumed an air of cheerfulness, while she with difficulty repressed her bitter tears. She embraced Elizabeth, and said, in a voice of half-suppressed emotion, “Farewell, sweet lady, dearest Elizabeth, my beloved and only friend; may heaven in its bounty bless and preserve you; may this be the last misfortune that you will ever suffer. Live, and be happy, and make others so.”

As we returned, Elizabeth said, “You know not, my dear Victor, how much I am relieved, now that I trust in the innocence of this unfortunate girl. I never could again have known peace, if I had been deceived in my reliance on her. For the moment that I did believe her guilty, I felt an anguish that I could not have long sustained. Now my heart is lightened. The innocent suffers; but she whom I thought amiable and good has not betrayed the trust I reposed in her, and I am consoled.”

Amiable cousin! such were your thoughts, mild and gentle as your own dear eyes and voice. But I—I was a wretch, and none ever conceived of the misery that I then endured.


Jared Inzunza:

Being on the defensive side, I find it suspicious that she had been out the whole night in which the murder was committed and that in the morning it was thought that she was near the place where the dead body was found.

Caleb Hecht:

Elizabeth would find the monster guilty, since it subjected poor Justine to her horrible death.

Dominique Dredd:

Justine may have confessed to murder after the trial, but her true confession is to Elizabeth and Victor. Justine only confessed because she believed that was the only way she could find peace. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect. If Justine was truly guilty then the confession should have unburdened her, but in her conversation with Elizabeth it is clear that is not the case. This seems like the moment that hope comes crashing down for Justine. Not only is she dealing with grief over losing the child she cared for, she’s also grieving over losing herself. Outside the prison walls she is condemned as a murderer, and inside the prison she suffered from giving a confession that has ruined her view of herself.

Aidan Cumberland:

I believe that Justine’s pure sorrow for Elizabeths cousin’s death and her “confession” if you want to call it that, prove her innocence to the murder of William. An unprecedented series of unfortunate events for Justine make me believe that The Monster who Victor had saw in Geneva shortly after the murder of William had framed Justine just to put Victor into a greater state of grief. It seems like the Monster has a sole purpose of tormenting Victor. Which only Victor would know because he is the only person who has seen the Monster in Geneva. The knowledge of being the cause of two of your families deaths seems to be enough for Victor to rightly believe that the Monster is responsible.

Aric Maiden:

Brings to mind the adage “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” Forced confessions under duress have come under renewed scrutiny recently with shows like Making a Murderer and The Confression Tapes. Authority is often more concerned with appeasing the public or grinding axes or self-aggrandizement than seeking out the truth, and has consequently been compelled to despicable behavior in the resolution of justice.

Julia Salcido:

Victor now feels incredible guilt and hatred towards himself because he feels responsible for the death of his brother, because he knows that his monster was actually responsible. He also feels guilty because the blame is being put on an innocent person, but he does not know how to prove she is innocent

Sophia Landeros:

Frankenstein, although the one who was truly guilty for William's death, is thanked by Justine, who is completely innocent in the whole ordeal and bound to be executed. Justine is suffering the fate that should have belonged to Frankenstein, so the fact that she goes on to thank him for believing her innocence is deeply ironic, especially since Frankenstein is only certain of her innocence because he himself is guilty. Ultimately, Justine is at peace and Frankenstein is not, because Justine is ready to take responsibility for speculated guilt, whereas Frankenstein keeps quiet about the whole situation and thus is left to suffer internally for the terrible things he had done.

Angeles Agredano:

This chapter is infested by grieving emotions and inner most feelings of the characters. Even though the author changes perspectives from Justine and Elizabeth, we always come back to Victor. Throughout the trial and even before, Victor continuously expresses his despair and agony of the circumstances that have befallen him and his family. However its so repetitive that it seems as an exaggeration in part of the author. This makes Victor seem self-centered and thoughtless of what his creation has brought upon everyone in the family. It’s a bit frustrating seeing how much Elizabeth and even Justine support him truth his turmoil of thoughts. It’s not fair for William and Justine , that Victor feels so much self pity. It almost seems that he is saddened that his creation was capable of murder.

Julisa Cortes:

Throughout the novel, the reader is aware of the various emotions Victor experiences due to the events that occur. It can be seen that Victor views himself and his emotions completely different compared to others, where the other individuals wouldn’t be able to imagine or understand how he feels. This goes back to how he is in a unique situation since he knows the truth about everything that is occurring. With that said, it is interesting on how he responds to Justine’s emotions regarding what is going to happen to her. Instead of focusing completely on Justine and her limited time alive, he focuses on how he feels since it is ultimately his fault she will die. Additionally, this can be connected to other moments in the novel, where we, as the reader, view Victor as a self-centered individual regarding his response/reaction to the misfortunes occurring.

Angeles Agredano:

Those were exactly my thoughts too, Victor is very self-centered throughout the whole chapter, I just can’t believe his audacity to pity himself when he’s the center of the problem. !!

Health & MedicinePhilosophy & PoliticsTechnology
Mary Margaret Fonow:

This passage reflects the type of justice known as retributive, which relies on punishment to balance the wrong done to the victim and his or her family and to act as a deterrent to others from future acts of wrong-doing. In this worldview, justice is served when someone pays for the suffering caused to another. Mary is warning the reader that a rush to judgment, especially if revenge is the driving motive, might hurt innocent people, creating a new form of injustice. This is what happens when the innocent Justine is wrongly executed for the death of William. Science and technology are also implicated in the apparatus of crime and punishment in a number of ways, including the creation of various tools of execution, such as the guillotine—which was a terrible new invention at the time of the French Revolution—the electric chair, lethal injections, and so on. In modern capital punishment in the United States, medical personnel are present to verify the prisoner’s death, and psychiatrists play a role in determining whether someone is mentally healthy enough to stand trial or if there are mitigating circumstances due to mental defect. Fingerprinting, handwriting analysis, DNA testing, and other forensic sciences have had disputatious histories, both in terms of how they have been received as evidence in the courtroom and how they have called on courts to understand scientific evidence. Scientific studies have also cast light on the fallibility of eyewitness testimony, and many convictions have been overturned by exculpatory DNA evidence. The power of forensic evidence is such in the public imagination, however, that a “CSI effect”—named after the popular television show about crime scene investigators using high-tech forensic analysis—has been identified in jurors who want to see scientific evidence of guilt even if those scientific standards are derived from fiction.

Motivations & Sentiments
Joel Gereboff:

The encounter between Justine and Elizabeth is filled with passion. Justine comes to accept her execution, even if unjust, because she sees it as necessary for her ultimate salvation, and Elizabeth, convinced now of Justine’s innocence, is relieved because her trust in Justine has not been betrayed. Such feelings trump concerns for justice. By contrast, Victor’s anguish at the injustice and his realization that it is his creation that committed the murder fill him with remorse, an intense correlate of guilt. In current moral thinking, feeling and expressing remorse are essential for seeking forgiveness. But Victor can only hold these feelings within himself because he cannot disclose the truth about his efforts and their impact.