Ch. 19: Chapter 15

Chapter 15

“Such was the history of my beloved cottagers. It impressed me deeply.

I learned, from the views of social life which it developed, to admire

their virtues and to deprecate the vices of mankind.

“As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil, benevolence and

generosity were ever present before me, inciting within me a desire to

become an actor in the busy scene where so many admirable qualities

were called forth and displayed. But in giving an account of the

progress of my intellect, I must not omit a circumstance which occurred

in the beginning of the month of August of the same year.

“One night during my accustomed visit to the neighbouring wood where I

collected my own food and brought home firing for my protectors, I found on

the ground a leathern portmanteau containing several articles of dress and

some books. I eagerly seized the prize and returned with it to my hovel.

Fortunately the books were written in the language, the elements of which I

had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of _Paradise Lost_, a volume

of Plutarch’s Lives_, and the Sorrows of Werter_. The

possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I now continually

studied and exercised my mind upon these histories, whilst my friends were

employed in their ordinary occupations.

“I can hardly describe to you the effect of these books. They produced

in me an infinity of new images and feelings, that sometimes raised me

to ecstasy, but more frequently sunk me into the lowest dejection. In

the _Sorrows of Werter_, besides the interest of its simple and affecting

story, so many opinions are canvassed and so many lights thrown upon

what had hitherto been to me obscure subjects that I found in it a

never-ending source of speculation and astonishment. The gentle and

domestic manners it described, combined with lofty sentiments and

feelings, which had for their object something out of self, accorded

well with my experience among my protectors and with the wants which

were for ever alive in my own bosom. But I thought Werter himself a

more divine being than I had ever beheld or imagined; his character

contained no pretension, but it sank deep. The disquisitions upon

death and suicide were calculated to fill me with wonder. I did not

pretend to enter into the merits of the case, yet I inclined towards

the opinions of the hero, whose extinction I wept, without precisely

understanding it.

“As I read, however, I applied much personally to my own feelings and

condition. I found myself similar yet at the same time strangely

unlike to the beings concerning whom I read and to whose conversation I

was a listener. I sympathised with and partly understood them, but I

was unformed in mind; I was dependent on none and related to none.

‘The path of my departure was free,’ and there was none to lament my

annihilation. My person was hideous and my stature gigantic. What did

this mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my

destination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable to

solve them.

“The volume of Plutarch’s Lives which I possessed contained the

histories of the first founders of the ancient republics. This book

had a far different effect upon me from the _Sorrows of Werter_. I

learned from Werter’s imaginations despondency and gloom, but Plutarch

taught me high thoughts; he elevated me above the wretched sphere of my

own reflections, to admire and love the heroes of past ages. Many

things I read surpassed my understanding and experience. I had a very

confused knowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of country, mighty rivers,

and boundless seas. But I was perfectly unacquainted with towns and

large assemblages of men. The cottage of my protectors had been the

only school in which I had studied human nature, but this book

developed new and mightier scenes of action. I read of men concerned

in public affairs, governing or massacring their species. I felt the

greatest ardour for virtue rise within me, and abhorrence for vice, as

far as I understood the signification of those terms, relative as they

were, as I applied them, to pleasure and pain alone. Induced by these

feelings, I was of course led to admire peaceable lawgivers, Numa,

Solon, and Lycurgus, in preference to Romulus and Theseus. The

patriarchal lives of my protectors caused these impressions to take a

firm hold on my mind; perhaps, if my first introduction to humanity had

been made by a young soldier, burning for glory and slaughter, I should

have been imbued with different sensations.

“But Paradise Lost excited different and far deeper emotions. I read

it, as I had read the other volumes which had fallen into my hands, as

a true history. It moved every feeling of wonder and awe that the

picture of an omnipotent God warring with his creatures was capable of

exciting. I often referred the several situations, as their similarity

struck me, to my own. Like Adam, I was apparently united by no link to

any other being in existence; but his state was far different from mine

in every other respect. He had come forth from the hands of God a

perfect creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of

his Creator; he was allowed to converse with and acquire knowledge from

beings of a superior nature, but I was wretched, helpless, and alone.

Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition, for

often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter

gall of envy rose within me.

“Another circumstance strengthened and confirmed these feelings. Soon

after my arrival in the hovel I discovered some papers in the pocket of

the dress which I had taken from your laboratory. At first I had

neglected them, but now that I was able to decipher the characters in

which they were written, I began to study them with diligence. It was

your journal of the four months that preceded my creation. You

minutely described in these papers every step you took in the progress

of your work; this history was mingled with accounts of domestic

occurrences. You doubtless recollect these papers. Here they are.

Everything is related in them which bears reference to my accursed

origin; the whole detail of that series of disgusting circumstances

which produced it is set in view; the minutest description of my odious

and loathsome person is given, in language which painted your own

horrors and rendered mine indelible. I sickened as I read. ‘Hateful

day when I received life!’ I exclaimed in agony. ‘Accursed creator!

Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in

disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own

image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the

very resemblance. Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire

and encourage him, but I am solitary and abhorred.’

“These were the reflections of my hours of despondency and solitude;

but when I contemplated the virtues of the cottagers, their amiable and

benevolent dispositions, I persuaded myself that when they should

become acquainted with my admiration of their virtues they would

compassionate me and overlook my personal deformity. Could they turn

from their door one, however monstrous, who solicited their compassion

and friendship? I resolved, at least, not to despair, but in every way

to fit myself for an interview with them which would decide my fate. I

postponed this attempt for some months longer, for the importance

attached to its success inspired me with a dread lest I should fail.

Besides, I found that my understanding improved so much with every

day’s experience that I was unwilling to commence this undertaking

until a few more months should have added to my sagacity.

“Several changes, in the meantime, took place in the cottage. The

presence of Safie diffused happiness among its inhabitants, and I also

found that a greater degree of plenty reigned there. Felix and Agatha

spent more time in amusement and conversation, and were assisted in

their labours by servants. They did not appear rich, but they were

contented and happy; their feelings were serene and peaceful, while

mine became every day more tumultuous. Increase of knowledge only

discovered to me more clearly what a wretched outcast I was. I

cherished hope, it is true, but it vanished when I beheld my person

reflected in water or my shadow in the moonshine, even as that frail

image and that inconstant shade.

“I endeavoured to crush these fears and to fortify myself for the trial

which in a few months I resolved to undergo; and sometimes I allowed my

thoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of Paradise, and

dared to fancy amiable and lovely creatures sympathising with my

feelings and cheering my gloom; their angelic countenances breathed

smiles of consolation. But it was all a dream; no Eve soothed my

sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam’s

supplication to his Creator. But where was mine? He had abandoned me,

and in the bitterness of my heart I cursed him.

“Autumn passed thus. I saw, with surprise and grief, the leaves decay

and fall, and nature again assume the barren and bleak appearance it

had worn when I first beheld the woods and the lovely moon. Yet I did

not heed the bleakness of the weather; I was better fitted by my

conformation for the endurance of cold than heat. But my chief

delights were the sight of the flowers, the birds, and all the gay

apparel of summer; when those deserted me, I turned with more attention

towards the cottagers. Their happiness was not decreased by the

absence of summer. They loved and sympathised with one another; and

their joys, depending on each other, were not interrupted by the

casualties that took place around them. The more I saw of them, the

greater became my desire to claim their protection and kindness; my

heart yearned to be known and loved by these amiable creatures; to see

their sweet looks directed towards me with affection was the utmost

limit of my ambition. I dared not think that they would turn them from

me with disdain and horror. The poor that stopped at their door were

never driven away. I asked, it is true, for greater treasures than a

little food or rest: I required kindness and sympathy; but I did not

believe myself utterly unworthy of it.

“The winter advanced, and an entire revolution of the seasons had taken

place since I awoke into life. My attention at this time was solely

directed towards my plan of introducing myself into the cottage of my

protectors. I revolved many projects, but that on which I finally

fixed was to enter the dwelling when the blind old man should be alone.

I had sagacity enough to discover that the unnatural hideousness of my

person was the chief object of horror with those who had formerly

beheld me. My voice, although harsh, had nothing terrible in it; I

thought, therefore, that if in the absence of his children I could gain

the good will and mediation of the old De Lacey, I might by his means

be tolerated by my younger protectors.

“One day, when the sun shone on the red leaves that strewed the ground

and diffused cheerfulness, although it denied warmth, Safie, Agatha,

and Felix departed on a long country walk, and the old man, at his own

desire, was left alone in the cottage. When his children had departed,

he took up his guitar and played several mournful but sweet airs, more

sweet and mournful than I had ever heard him play before. At first his

countenance was illuminated with pleasure, but as he continued,

thoughtfulness and sadness succeeded; at length, laying aside the

instrument, he sat absorbed in reflection.

“My heart beat quick; this was the hour and moment of trial, which

would decide my hopes or realise my fears. The servants were gone to a

neighbouring fair. All was silent in and around the cottage; it was an

excellent opportunity; yet, when I proceeded to execute my plan, my

limbs failed me and I sank to the ground. Again I rose, and exerting

all the firmness of which I was master, removed the planks which I had

placed before my hovel to conceal my retreat. The fresh air revived

me, and with renewed determination I approached the door of their

cottage.

“I knocked. ‘Who is there?’ said the old man. ‘Come in.’

“I entered. ‘Pardon this intrusion,’ said I; ‘I am

a traveller in want of a little rest; you would greatly oblige me if you

would allow me to remain a few minutes before the fire.’

“‘Enter,’ said De Lacey, ‘and I will try in what

manner I can to relieve your wants; but, unfortunately, my children are

from home, and as I am blind, I am afraid I shall find it difficult to

procure food for you.’

“‘Do not trouble yourself, my kind host; I have food; it is

warmth and rest only that I need.’

“I sat down, and a silence ensued. I knew that every minute was

precious to me, yet I remained irresolute in what manner to commence

the interview, when the old man addressed me.

‘By your language, stranger, I suppose you are my countryman; are you

French?’

“‘No; but I was educated by a French family and understand that

language only. I am now going to claim the protection of some friends,

whom I sincerely love, and of whose favour I have some hopes.’

“‘Are they Germans?’

“‘No, they are French. But let us change the subject. I am an

unfortunate and deserted creature, I look around and I have no relation

or friend upon earth. These amiable people to whom I go have never

seen me and know little of me. I am full of fears, for if I fail

there, I am an outcast in the world for ever.’

“‘Do not despair. To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate, but

the hearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self-interest, are

full of brotherly love and charity. Rely, therefore, on your hopes;

and if these friends are good and amiable, do not despair.’

“‘They are kind—they are the most excellent creatures in the world;

but, unfortunately, they are prejudiced against me. I have good

dispositions; my life has been hitherto harmless and in some degree

beneficial; but a fatal prejudice clouds their eyes, and where they

ought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestable

monster.’

“‘That is indeed unfortunate; but if you are really blameless, cannot

you undeceive them?’

“‘I am about to undertake that task; and it is on that account that I

feel so many overwhelming terrors. I tenderly love these friends; I

have, unknown to them, been for many months in the habits of daily

kindness towards them; but they believe that I wish to injure them, and

it is that prejudice which I wish to overcome.’

“‘Where do these friends reside?’

“‘Near this spot.’

“The old man paused and then continued, ‘If you will unreservedly

confide to me the particulars of your tale, I perhaps may be of use in

undeceiving them. I am blind and cannot judge of your countenance, but

there is something in your words which persuades me that you are

sincere. I am poor and an exile, but it will afford me true pleasure

to be in any way serviceable to a human creature.’

“‘Excellent man! I thank you and accept your generous offer. You

raise me from the dust by this kindness; and I trust that, by your aid,

I shall not be driven from the society and sympathy of your fellow

creatures.’

“‘Heaven forbid! Even if you were really criminal, for that can only

drive you to desperation, and not instigate you to virtue. I also am

unfortunate; I and my family have been condemned, although innocent;

judge, therefore, if I do not feel for your misfortunes.’

“‘How can I thank you, my best and only benefactor? From your lips

first have I heard the voice of kindness directed towards me; I shall

be for ever grateful; and your present humanity assures me of success

with those friends whom I am on the point of meeting.’

“‘May I know the names and residence of those friends?’

“I paused. This, I thought, was the moment of decision, which was to

rob me of or bestow happiness on me for ever. I struggled vainly for

firmness sufficient to answer him, but the effort destroyed all my

remaining strength; I sank on the chair and sobbed aloud. At that

moment I heard the steps of my younger protectors. I had not a moment

to lose, but seizing the hand of the old man, I cried, ‘Now is the

time! Save and protect me! You and your family are the friends whom I

seek. Do not you desert me in the hour of trial!’

“‘Great God!’ exclaimed the old man. ‘Who are you?’

“At that instant the cottage door was opened, and Felix, Safie, and

Agatha entered. Who can describe their horror and consternation on

beholding me? Agatha fainted, and Safie, unable to attend to her

friend, rushed out of the cottage. Felix darted forward, and with

supernatural force tore me from his father, to whose knees I clung, in

a transport of fury, he dashed me to the ground and struck me violently

with a stick. I could have torn him limb from limb, as the lion rends

the antelope. But my heart sank within me as with bitter sickness, and

I refrained. I saw him on the point of repeating his blow, when,

overcome by pain and anguish, I quitted the cottage, and in the general

tumult escaped unperceived to my hovel.”