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.

I spent the following day wandering through the valley. I stood beside the sources of the Arveiron, which rise from a glacier. The glacier slowly advances from the mountain tops, threatening to block the valley. The steep sides of vast mountains rose before me. The icy wall of the glacier hung over me, and a few shattered pines lay scattered around. A solemn silence filled this glorious throne room of imperial Nature. It was broken only by the roar of the waves, the fall of a huge fragment, or the thunder of an avalanche. Sometimes the accumulated ice cracked, and the sound echoed through the mountains. The ice was torn apart again and again by the silent working of unchanging laws, as if it were their plaything. These sublime and magnificent scenes gave me the greatest comfort I was capable of receiving. They lifted me above all petty feelings. Although they did not take away my grief, they calmed and quieted it. They also turned my mind, to some degree, from the thoughts I had brooded over for the past month. I went to bed that night, and the great shapes I had seen during the day seemed to watch over my sleep. They gathered around me: the spotless snowy mountain top, the glittering peak, the pine woods, and the rugged, bare ravine. The eagle soaring among the clouds was there too. They all gathered around me and told me to 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.

Where had they fled when I awoke the next morning? Everything that lifted my spirits had vanished with sleep, and dark melancholy clouded every thought. Rain poured down, and thick mist hid the mountaintops. I could not even see the faces of those mighty friends. Still, I would pass through the mist and seek them in their cloudy hiding places. What were rain and storms to me? My mule was brought to the door, and I decided to climb to the summit of Montanvert. I remembered how the sight of the immense, ever-moving glacier had affected me when I first saw it. It had filled me with a sublime joy that gave my soul wings. My soul could soar from the dark world into light and joy. The sight of nature in its terrifying majesty had always made me feel solemn and forget life’s passing cares. I decided to go without a guide, for I knew the path well. Another person’s presence would destroy the lonely 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.

The climb is steep, but the path has many short turns that help you overcome the mountain’s nearly vertical slope. The scene is terribly desolate. In a thousand places, you can see traces of winter avalanches. Broken trees lie scattered on the ground. Some are completely destroyed. Others are bent, leaning against rocks jutting out from the mountain or lying across other trees. Higher up, the path crosses snowy ravines, where stones continually roll down from above. One ravine is especially dangerous. The slightest sound, even a loud voice, disturbs the air enough to bring destruction down on the speaker. The pines are neither tall nor lush, but they are gloomy and add a harshness to the scene. I looked down at the valley below. Vast mists rose from the rivers that ran through it, curling in thick wreaths around the mountains opposite. Their peaks were hidden by an unbroken blanket of clouds. Rain poured from the dark sky, adding to the sadness the scene around me inspired. Alas! Why do we boast that our feelings are greater than those animals show? They only make us more needy. If our impulses were limited to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free. But instead, we are moved by every wind that blows, by a chance word, or by a scene that word may bring to mind.

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.”

It was nearly noon when I reached the top of the climb. For a while, I sat on a rock overlooking the sea of ice. Mist covered the ice and the surrounding mountains. Soon a breeze cleared the mist, and I descended onto the glacier. Its surface was very uneven. It rose and fell like the waves of a stormy sea, with deep cracks between them. The ice field was almost a league wide, but it took me nearly two hours to cross it. The mountain across the ice was a bare, sheer rock face. From where I stood, Montanvert was directly opposite, a league away. Above it, Mont Blanc rose in awe-inspiring majesty. I stayed in a hollow in the rock, gazing at the wonderful, immense scene. The sea, or rather the vast river of ice, wound among the mountains around it. Their lofty summits hung over its hollows. Their icy, glittering peaks shone in the sunlight above the clouds. My heart, which had been sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy. I cried, “Wandering spirits, if you truly wander and do not rest in your narrow graves, 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.

As I said this, I suddenly saw a figure in the distance, coming toward me at superhuman speed. He leaped over the cracks in the ice, where I had walked carefully. As he came closer, he also seemed taller than any man. I was troubled. My vision grew misty, and I felt faint, but the cold mountain wind quickly revived me. As the figure drew nearer, I recognized the wretch I had created. It was a terrible, hateful sight! I trembled with rage and horror. I resolved to wait for him and then fight him to the death. He came closer. His face showed bitter anguish, mingled with scorn and malice. His otherworldly ugliness made him almost too horrible for human eyes to bear. But I hardly noticed. At first, rage and hatred left me speechless. When I could speak again, I overwhelmed him with words of furious hatred 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!”

“Devil,” I cried, “how dare you come near me? Aren't you afraid I'll take fierce revenge on your miserable head? Get away, you vile insect! No, stay, so I can crush you to dust! Oh, if only killing you could bring back the victims you murdered so cruelly!”

“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.”

“I expected this welcome,” said the demon. “All men hate the wretched. How much more must they hate me, who am more miserable than any living thing! Yet you, my creator, hate and reject me, your creature. The bond between us can only be broken by the destruction of one of us. You intend to kill me. How dare you play with life like that? Do your duty to me, and I will do mine to you and the rest of mankind. If you accept my conditions, I will leave you and the rest of mankind in peace. But if you refuse, I will feed death until it has had its fill of your remaining friends’ blood.”

“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.”

“Loathsome monster! You are a fiend! The tortures of hell are too mild a punishment for your crimes. Wretched devil! You blame me for creating you. Come on, then, so I can put out the spark of life I gave you so carelessly.”

My rage was without bounds; I sprang on him, impelled by all the feelings which can arm one being against the existence of another.

My rage knew no bounds. I sprang on him, driven by all the feelings that can make one being turn against another’s existence.

He easily eluded me and said,

He easily dodged 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.”

“Be calm! I beg you to hear me before you unleash your hatred on me. Haven’t I suffered enough? Must you add to my misery? Life is dear to me, even if it is nothing but a collection of suffering. I will defend it. Remember, you made me more powerful than yourself. I am taller than you, and my joints are more flexible. But I will not be tempted to fight you. I am your creature. I will be gentle and obedient to my natural lord and king, if you do your part, as you owe me. Oh, Frankenstein, do not treat everyone else fairly while trampling on me alone. I am the one who most deserves your justice, and even your mercy and affection. Remember that I am your creature. I ought to be your Adam, but instead I am the fallen angel. You drive me away from joy, though I have done nothing wrong. Everywhere I see happiness, and I alone am forever shut out from it. I was kind and good. Misery made me a monster. Make me happy, and I will be good again.”

“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.”

“Go away! I will not listen to you. There can be no bond between us. We are enemies. Go away, or let us fight until one of us falls.”

“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.”

“How can I move you? Will no plea make you look kindly on your creature, who begs for your goodness and compassion? Believe me, Frankenstein, I was kind. My soul glowed with love and compassion for humanity. But am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, hate me. What hope can I have from other people, who owe me nothing? They reject and hate me. The deserted mountains and bleak glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here for many days. The ice caves, which only I do not fear, are my home. They are the only home that people do not resent me having. I welcome these bleak skies, for they are kinder to me than other people. If the whole human race knew I existed, they would do as you do. They would arm themselves to destroy me. Should I not hate those who hate me? I will make no peace with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my misery. Yet you have the power to make amends to me and save them from harm. You alone can make that harm so great that its raging whirlwinds will swallow up thousands. They will swallow up not only you and your family, but thousands of others. Let your compassion stir, and do not look down on me. Listen to my story. Once you have heard it, abandon me or pity me, as you think I deserve. But hear me. Human laws, bloody as they are, allow even the guilty to speak in their own defense before they are condemned. Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder, yet you would destroy your own creature with a clear conscience. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man! Yet I do not ask you 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.”

“Why do you remind me,” I replied, “of events I shudder to think I caused? Cursed be the day you were born, you hateful devil! Cursed be the hands that made you, although I curse myself by saying so! You have made me miserable beyond words. You have left me unable to consider whether I am treating you fairly. Go away! Spare me the sight of your hateful 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.”

“In this way, I spare you, my creator,” he said, and placed his hated hands before my eyes. I violently pushed them away. “In this way, I keep you from seeing what you hate. You can still listen to me and show me compassion. I demand your compassion because of the virtues I once possessed. Listen to my story. It is long and strange, and the cold here is too harsh for your delicate senses. Come to the hut on the mountain. The sun is still high in the sky. Before it sinks behind your snowy cliffs and lights another world, you will have heard my story. Then you can decide. It is up to you whether I leave human society forever and live a harmless life. Otherwise, I will become a terror to your fellow creatures and bring about your own swift 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.

As he said this, he led the way across the ice, and I followed. My heart was full, and I did not answer him. But as I walked, I considered his arguments and decided to at least listen to his story. Curiosity partly drove me, and compassion strengthened my resolve. Until then, I had believed he had murdered my brother. I was eager to learn whether I was right or wrong. For the first time, I also understood a creator’s duties to his creature. I felt that I should make him happy before complaining of his wickedness. These thoughts led me to agree to his demand. So we crossed the ice and climbed the rock on the opposite side. The air was cold, and the rain began to fall again. We entered the hut. The fiend looked triumphant, while I was heavyhearted and depressed. But I had agreed to listen. I sat by the fire my hateful companion had lit, and he began his story.