Ch. 14: Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I spent the following day roaming through the valley. I stood beside

the sources of the Arveiron, which take their rise in a glacier, that

with slow pace is advancing down from the summit of the hills to

barricade the valley. The abrupt sides of vast mountains were before

me; the icy wall of the glacier overhung me; a few shattered pines were

scattered around; and the solemn silence of this glorious

presence-chamber of imperial Nature was broken only by the brawling

waves or the fall of some vast fragment, the thunder sound of the

avalanche or the cracking, reverberated along the mountains, of the

accumulated ice, which, through the silent working of immutable laws,

was ever and anon rent and torn, as if it had been but a plaything in

their hands. These sublime and magnificent scenes afforded me the

greatest consolation that I was capable of receiving. They elevated me

from all littleness of feeling, and although they did not remove my

grief, they subdued and tranquillised it. In some degree, also, they

diverted my mind from the thoughts over which it had brooded for the

last month. I retired to rest at night; my slumbers, as it were,

waited on and ministered to by the assemblance of grand shapes which I

had contemplated during the day. They congregated round me; the

unstained snowy mountain-top, the glittering pinnacle, the pine woods,

and ragged bare ravine, the eagle, soaring amidst the clouds—they all

gathered round me and bade me be at peace.

Where had they fled when the next morning I awoke? All of

soul-inspiriting fled with sleep, and dark melancholy clouded every

thought. The rain was pouring in torrents, and thick mists hid the

summits of the mountains, so that I even saw not the faces of those

mighty friends. Still I would penetrate their misty veil and seek them

in their cloudy retreats. What were rain and storm to me? My mule was

brought to the door, and I resolved to ascend to the summit of

Montanvert. I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous

and ever-moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first saw it.

It had then filled me with a sublime ecstasy that gave wings to the

soul and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy.

The sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed always the

effect of solemnising my mind and causing me to forget the passing

cares of life. I determined to go without a guide, for I was well

acquainted with the path, and the presence of another would destroy the

solitary grandeur of the scene.

The ascent is precipitous, but the path is cut into continual and short

windings, which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of the

mountain. It is a scene terrifically desolate. In a thousand spots

the traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived, where trees lie

broken and strewed on the ground, some entirely destroyed, others bent,

leaning upon the jutting rocks of the mountain or transversely upon

other trees. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines

of snow, down which stones continually roll from above; one of them is

particularly dangerous, as the slightest sound, such as even speaking

in a loud voice, produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw

destruction upon the head of the speaker. The pines are not tall or

luxuriant, but they are sombre and add an air of severity to the scene.

I looked on the valley beneath; vast mists were rising from the rivers

which ran through it and curling in thick wreaths around the opposite

mountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds, while rain

poured from the dark sky and added to the melancholy impression I

received from the objects around me. Alas! Why does man boast of

sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders

them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger,

thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by

every wind that blows and a chance word or scene that that word may

convey to us.

We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.

We rise; one wand’ring thought pollutes the day.

We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,

Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;

It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,

The path of its departure still is free.

Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow;

Nought may endure but mutability!

It was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent. For some

time I sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice. A mist covered

both that and the surrounding mountains. Presently a breeze dissipated

the cloud, and I descended upon the glacier. The surface is very

uneven, rising like the waves of a troubled sea, descending low, and

interspersed by rifts that sink deep. The field of ice is almost a

league in width, but I spent nearly two hours in crossing it. The

opposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock. From the side where I

now stood Montanvert was exactly opposite, at the distance of a league;

and above it rose Mont Blanc, in awful majesty. I remained in a recess

of the rock, gazing on this wonderful and stupendous scene. The sea,

or rather the vast river of ice, wound among its dependent mountains,

whose aerial summits hung over its recesses. Their icy and glittering

peaks shone in the sunlight over the clouds. My heart, which was

before sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy; I exclaimed,

“Wandering spirits, if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in your narrow

beds, allow me this faint happiness, or take me, as your companion,

away from the joys of life.”

As I said this I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance,

advancing towards me with superhuman speed. He bounded over the

crevices in the ice, among which I had walked with caution; his

stature, also, as he approached, seemed to exceed that of man. I was

troubled; a mist came over my eyes, and I felt a faintness seize me,

but I was quickly restored by the cold gale of the mountains. I

perceived, as the shape came nearer (sight tremendous and abhorred!)

that it was the wretch whom I had created. I trembled with rage and

horror, resolving to wait his approach and then close with him in

mortal combat. He approached; his countenance bespoke bitter anguish,

combined with disdain and malignity, while its unearthly ugliness

rendered it almost too horrible for human eyes. But I scarcely

observed this; rage and hatred had at first deprived me of utterance,

and I recovered only to overwhelm him with words expressive of furious

detestation and contempt.

“Devil,” I exclaimed, “do you dare approach me? And do

not you fear the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head?

Begone, vile insect! Or rather, stay, that I may trample you to dust! And,

oh! That I could, with the extinction of your miserable existence, restore

those victims whom you have so diabolically murdered!”

“I expected this reception,” said the dæmon. “All men hate the

wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all

living things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature,

to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of

one of us. You purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life?

Do your duty towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of

mankind. If you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and

you at peace; but if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until it

be satiated with the blood of your remaining friends.”

“Abhorred monster! Fiend that thou art! The tortures of hell are too

mild a vengeance for thy crimes. Wretched devil! You reproach me with

your creation, come on, then, that I may extinguish the spark which I

so negligently bestowed.”

My rage was without bounds; I sprang on him, impelled by all the

feelings which can arm one being against the existence of another.

He easily eluded me and said,

“Be calm! I entreat you to hear me before you give vent to your hatred

on my devoted head. Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to

increase my misery? Life, although it may only be an accumulation of

anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, thou hast made

me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my

joints more supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in

opposition to thee. I am thy creature, and I will be even mild and

docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part,

the which thou owest me. Oh, Frankenstein, be not equitable to every

other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy

clemency and affection, is most due. Remember that I am thy creature;

I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou

drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I

alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made

me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.”

“Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no community between you

and me; we are enemies. Begone, or let us try our strength in a fight,

in which one must fall.”

“How can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a

favourable eye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness and

compassion? Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent; my soul glowed

with love and humanity; but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my

creator, abhor me; what hope can I gather from your fellow creatures,

who owe me nothing? They spurn and hate me. The desert mountains and

dreary glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days; the

caves of ice, which I only do not fear, are a dwelling to me, and the

only one which man does not grudge. These bleak skies I hail, for they

are kinder to me than your fellow beings. If the multitude of mankind

knew of my existence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves for

my destruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keep

no terms with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my

wretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompense me, and deliver

them from an evil which it only remains for you to make so great, that

not only you and your family, but thousands of others, shall be

swallowed up in the whirlwinds of its rage. Let your compassion be

moved, and do not disdain me. Listen to my tale; when you have heard

that, abandon or commiserate me, as you shall judge that I deserve.

But hear me. The guilty are allowed, by human laws, bloody as they

are, to speak in their own defence before they are condemned. Listen

to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder, and yet you would, with

a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the

eternal justice of man! Yet I ask you not to spare me; listen to me,

and then, if you can, and if you will, destroy the work of your hands.”

“Why do you call to my remembrance,” I rejoined, “circumstances of

which I shudder to reflect, that I have been the miserable origin and

author? Cursed be the day, abhorred devil, in which you first saw

light! Cursed (although I curse myself) be the hands that formed you!

You have made me wretched beyond expression. You have left me no power

to consider whether I am just to you or not. Begone! Relieve me from

the sight of your detested form.”

“Thus I relieve thee, my creator,” he said, and placed his hated hands

before my eyes, which I flung from me with violence; “thus I take from

thee a sight which you abhor. Still thou canst listen to me and grant

me thy compassion. By the virtues that I once possessed, I demand this

from you. Hear my tale; it is long and strange, and the temperature of

this place is not fitting to your fine sensations; come to the hut upon

the mountain. The sun is yet high in the heavens; before it descends

to hide itself behind your snowy precipices and illuminate another

world, you will have heard my story and can decide. On you it rests,

whether I quit for ever the neighbourhood of man and lead a harmless

life, or become the scourge of your fellow creatures and the author of

your own speedy ruin.”

As he said this he led the way across the ice; I followed. My heart

was full, and I did not answer him, but as I proceeded, I weighed the

various arguments that he had used and determined at least to listen to

his tale. I was partly urged by curiosity, and compassion confirmed my

resolution. I had hitherto supposed him to be the murderer of my

brother, and I eagerly sought a confirmation or denial of this opinion.

For the first time, also, I felt what the duties of a creator towards

his creature were, and that I ought to render him happy before I

complained of his wickedness. These motives urged me to comply with

his demand. We crossed the ice, therefore, and ascended the opposite

rock. The air was cold, and the rain again began to descend; we

entered the hut, the fiend with an air of exultation, I with a heavy

heart and depressed spirits. But I consented to listen, and seating

myself by the fire which my odious companion had lighted, he thus began

his tale.