“My dearest friend, you must calm yourself. These events have affected me, God knows how deeply. But I am not so wretched as you are. There is an expression of despair, and sometimes of revenge, in your countenance. That makes me tremble. Dear Victor, banish these dark passions. Remember the friends around you. Ah! While we love, while we are true to each other, here in this land of peace and beauty, your native country, what can disturb our peace?”
But even such words from her could not chase away the fiend that lurked in my heart. As she spoke I drew near to her. I am afraid that the devil can take her away from me.
Thus not the tenderness of friendship, nor the beauty of earth, nor of heaven, could redeem my soul from woe. Sometimes the whirlwind passions of my soul drove me to seek some relief from my intolerable sensations, by bodily exercise and by change of place. One day I suddenly left my home, and went towards the near Alpine valleys. The magnificence, the eternity of such scenes will help me to forget myself and my sorrows. I went towards the valley of Chamounix. I visited it frequently during my boyhood. Six years passed since then.
I performed the first part of my journey on horseback. I afterwards hired a mule. The weather was fine. It was about the middle of the month of August, nearly two months after the death of
Justine. I plunged in the ravine of Arve. Ruined castles on the precipices of piny mountains, the impetuous Arve, and cottages every here and there among the trees formed a scene of singular beauty.
I passed the bridge of Pelissier, where the ravine opened before me, and I began to ascend the mountain that overhangs it. Soon after, I entered the valley of Chamounix. This valley is more wonderful and sublime, but not so beautiful and picturesque as that of Servox. I saw no more ruined castles and fertile fields. Immense glaciers approached the road. Mont Blanc, the supreme and magnificent Mont Blanc, raised itself from the aiguilles, and its tremendous dome overlooked the valley.
At length I arrived at the village of Chamounix. For a short time I remained at the window. The sounds of a river acted as a lullaby to me. When I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me.
Chapter 10
I spent the following day in the valley. I stood beside the sources of the Arveiron. The abrupt sides of vast mountains were before me. The icy wall of the glacier overhung me. The solemn silence of the glorious Nature! The sublime and magnificent scenes afforded me the great consolation. They elevated me from all littleness of feeling. Although they did not remove my grief, they subdued and tranquillised it.
Where did they flee when the next morning I awoke? Dark melancholy clouded every thought. The rain was hard, and thick mists hid the summits of the mountains. But what were rain and storm to me? I took my mule and I resolved to ascend to the summit of Montanvert. I remember the effect that the view of the tremendous glacier produced upon my mind when I first saw it.
It filled me with a sublime ecstasy that gave wings to the soul.
I determined to go without a guide, for I knew the path. The presence of another will destroy the solitary grandeur of the scene.
The ascent is precipitous. It is a scene terrifically desolate. Trees lie broken and strewed on the ground. The path is intersected by ravines of snow. 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.
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 the surrounding mountains. The surface is very uneven. The field of ice is almost a league in width. The opposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock. From the side where I now stood Montanvert was exactly opposite. Above it rose Mont Blanc, in awful majesty. Oh, what a wonderful and stupendous scene! The sea, or rather the vast river of ice, wound among its dependent mountains. Their icy peaks shone in the sunlight over the clouds. My heart swelled with joy. I exclaimed,
“Wandering spirits, if you 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. He was advancing towards me with superhuman speed. He bounded over the crevices in the ice. A mist came over my eyes, and I felt some faintness. I perceived, as the shape came nearer, that it was my wretch, me demon. I trembled with rage and horror. He approached. His unearthly ugliness was too horrible for human eyes. But I scarcely observed this.
“Devil,” I exclaimed, “do you dare approach me? And do not you fear the fierce vengeance of my arm on your miserable head? Begone, vile insect! Or rather, stay, I shall trample you to dust! I want to restore those victims whom you have so diabolically murdered!”
“I expected this reception,” said the demon. “All men hate the wretched. Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, your creature. You want to kill me. How dare you play with life? Do your duty towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of mankind. I will leave them and you at peace. But if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death with the blood of your friends.”
“Abhorred monster! Fiend! The tortures of hell are too mild a vengeance for your crimes. Wretched devil! You reproach me with your creation. Come here. I will extinguish the spark which I so negligently bestowed.”
My rage was without bounds. I sprang on him. He easily eluded me and said,
“Be calm! Hear me. Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to increase my misery? Life is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, you made me more powerful than yourself. But I will not fight you. I am your creature, and I will be even mild and docile to my lord and king if you also perform your duty, oh, Frankenstein. Remember that I am your creature. But I’m not your Adam, I am the fallen angel[19]. 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 fight.”
“Will anything cause you to turn a favourable eye upon your creature? I implore your goodness and compassion! Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent. My soul glowed with love and humanity. But I am alone, miserably alone. You, my creator, abhor me. Other people spurn and hate me. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days. The caves of ice are a dwelling to me. These bleak skies are kinder to me than your friends. If the people know of my existence, they will kill me. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will not be a friend to my enemies. I am miserable, and they will share my wretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompense me. Please do not disdain me. Listen to my tale; and then abandon or commiserate me. But hear me. Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder, and yet you want to destroy your own creature. Is that justice? Listen to me, and then, if you can, and if you want, destroy the work of your hands.”
“Cursed be[20] the day,” I rejoined, “abhorred devil, in which you first saw light! Cursed (although I curse myself) be the hands that formed you! Begone! Relieve me from the sight of your detested form.”
“Oh my creator,” he said; “still you can listen to me and grant me your compassion. By the virtues that I once possessed, I demand this from you. Hear my tale; it is long and strange. It is very cold here; come to the hut upon the mountain. You will hear my story and decide. It depends on you:whether I quit for ever the mankind and lead a harmless life, or become the scourge of your friends and ruin you.”