Letter 4 (Frankenstein (Full Cast))

01section two of Frankenstein.

02This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.

03Frankenstein or the modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley.

04Section two letter for August fifth in an undisclosed year in the eighteenth century to missis Saville, England.

05So strange an accident has happened to us that I cannot forbear recording it, although it is very probable that you will see me before these papers can come into your possession.

06Last Monday, July 31st, we were nearly surrounded by ice, which closed in the ship on all sides, scarcely leaving her the sea room in which she floated.

07Our situation was somewhat dangerous, especially as we were compassed round by a very thick fog.

08We accordingly lay to, hoping that some change would take place in the atmosphere and weather.

09About two o'clock, the mist cleared away, and we beheld, stretched out in every direction, vast and irregular plains of ice, which seemed to have no end.

10Some of my comrades groaned, and my own mind began to grow watchful with anxious thoughts.

11When a strange sight suddenly attracted our attention, and diverted our solicitude from our own situation, We perceived a low carriage, fixed on a sledge and drawn by dogs, pass on towards the north at a distance of half a mile.

12A being which had the shape of a man, but apparently of gigantic stature, sat in the sledge and guided the dogs.

13We watched the rapid progress of the traveller with our telescopes, until he was lost among the distant inequalities of the ice.

14This appearance excited our unqualified wonder.

15We were, as we believed, many hundred miles from any land.

16But this apparition seemed to denote that it was not in reality so distant as we supposed.

17Shut in, however, by ice, it was impossible to follow his track, which we had observed with the greatest attention.

18About two hours after this occurrence we heard the ground see, and before the night the ice broke and freed our ship.

19We, however, lay to until the morning, fearing to encounter in the dark those large loose masses which float about after the breaking up of the ice.

20I profited of this time to rest for a few hours.

21In the morning, however, as soon as it was light, I went upon deck and found all the sailors busy on one side of the vessel, apparently talking to someone in the sea.

22It was, in fact, a sledge like that we had seen before, which had drifted towards us in the night on a large fragment of ice.

23Only one dog remained alive, but there was a human being within it whom the sailors were persuading to enter the vessel.

24He was not, as the other traveller seemed to be, a savage inhabitant of some undiscovered island, but a European.

25When I appeared on deck, the master said, Here is our captain, and he will not allow you to perish on the open sea.

26On perceiving me, the stranger addressed me in English, although with a foreign accent.

27Before I come on board your vessel, said he, will you have the kindness to inform me whither you are bound?

28You may conceive my astonishment on hearing such a question addressed to me from a man on the brink of destruction, and to whom I should have supposed that my vessel would have been a resource which he would not have exchanged for the most precious wealth the earth can afford.

29I replied, however, that we were on a voyage of discovery towards the northern pole.

30Upon hearing this, he appeared satisfied, and consented to come on board.

31Good God, Margaret, if you had seen the man who thus capitulated for his safety, your surprise would have been boundless.

32His limbs were nearly frozen, and his body dreadfully emaciated by fatigue and suffering.

33I never saw a man in so wretched a condition.

34We attempted to carry him into the cabin, but as soon as he had quitted the fresh air, he fainted.

35We accordingly brought him back to the deck, and restored him to animation by rubbing him with brandy, and forcing him to swallow a small quantity.

36As soon as he showed signs of life, we wrapped him in blankets, and placed him near the chimney of the kitchen stove.

37By slow degrees he recovered, and ate a little soup, which restored him wonderfully.

38Two days passed in this manner before he was able to speak, and I often feared that his sufferings had deprived him of understanding.

39When he had in some measure recovered, I removed him to my own cabin, and attended on him as much as my duty would permit.

40I never saw a more interesting creature.

41His eyes have generally an expression of wildness, and even madness.

42But there are moments when, if anyone performs an act of kindness towards him, or does him any the most trifling service.

43His whole countenance is lighted up, as it were, with a beam of benevolence and sweetness that I never saw equaled.

44But he is generally melancholy and despairing, and sometimes he gnashes his teeth, as if impatient, of the weight of woes that oppresses him.

45When my guest was a little recovered, I had great trouble to keep him off the men, who wished to ask him a thousand questions.

46But I would not allow him to be tormented by their idle curiosity, in a state of body and mind whose restoration evidently depended upon entire repose.

47Once, however, the lieutenant asked why he had come so far upon the ice in so strange a vehicle.

48His countenance instantly assumed an aspect of the deepest gloom, and he replied, To seek one who fled from me.

49And did the man whom you pursued travel in the same fashion?

50Yes.

51Then I fancy we have seen him, for the day before we picked you up, we saw some dogs drawing a sledge, with a man in it, across the ice.

52This aroused the stranger's attention, and he asked a multitude of questions concerning the route which the demon, as he called him, had pursued.

53Soon after, when he was alone with me, he said, I have doubtless excited your curiosity, as well as that of these good people.

54But you are too considerate to make inquiries.

55Certainly.

56It would indeed be very impertinent and inhuman in me to trouble you with any inquisitiveness of mine.

57And yet you rescued me from a strange and perilous situation.

58You have benevolently restored me to life.

59Soon after this, he inquired if I thought that the breaking up of the ice had destroyed the other sledge.

60I replied that I could not answer with any degree of certainty, for the ice had not broken until near midnight, and the traveler might have arrived at a place of safety before that time.

61But of this I could not judge.

62From this time, a new spirit of life animated the decaying frame of the stranger.

63He manifested the greatest eagerness to be upon deck, to watch for the sledge which had before appeared.

64But I have persuaded him to remain in the cabin, for he is far too weak to sustain the rawness of the atmosphere.

65I have promised that someone should watch for him, and give him instant notice if any new object should appear in sight.

66Such is my journal of what relates to this strange occurrence up to the present day.

67The stranger has gradually improved in health, but is very silent, and appears uneasy when anyone except myself enters his cabin.

68Yet his manners are so conciliating and gentle, that the sailors are all interested in him, although they have had very little communications with him.

69For my own part, I begin to love him as a brother, and his constant and deep grief fills me with sympathy and compassion.

70He must have been a noble creature in his better days.

71Being even now in wreck so attractive and amiable, I said in one of my letters, my dear Margaret, that I should find no friend on the wide ocean, yet I have found a man who, before his spirit had been broken by misery, I should have been happy to have possessed as the brother of my heart.

72I shall continue my journal concerning the stranger at intervals, should I have any fresh incidents to report.

73August 13th, in an undisclosed year in the 18th century, My affection for my guest increases every day.

74He excites at once my admiration and my pity to an astonishing degree.

75How can I see so noble a creature destroyed by misery, without feeling the most poignant grief?

76He is so gentle, yet so wise.

77His mind is so cultivated, and when he speaks, although his words are cold with the choicest art, yet they flow with rapidity and unparalleled eloquence.

78He is now much recovered from his illness, and is continually on deck, apparently watching for the sledge that preceded his own.

79Yet, although unhappy, he is not so utterly occupied by his own misery, but that he interest himself deeply in the projects of others.

80He has frequently conversed with me on mine, which I have communicated to him without disguise.

81He entered attentively into all my arguments, in favor of my eventual success, and into every minute detail of the measures I had taken to secure it.

82I was easily led by the sympathy which he evinced to use the language of my heart, to give utterance to the burning ardor of my soul, and to say with all the fervor that warmed me how gladly I would sacrifice my fortune, my existence, my every hope, to the furtherance of my enterprise.

83One man's life or death were but a small price to pay for the acquirement of the knowledge which I sought for the dominion I should acquire and transmit over the elemental foes of our race.

84As I spoke, a dark gloom spread over my listener's countenance.

85At first, I perceived that he tried to suppress his emotion.

86He placed his hands before his eyes, and my voice quivered and failed me as I beheld tears trickle fast from between his fingers.

87A groan burst from his heaving breast.

88I paused.

89At length he spoke, in broken accents.

90Unhappy man!

91Do you share my madness?

92Have you drunk also of the intoxicating draught?

93Hear me.

94Let me reveal my tale, and you will dash the cup from your lips.

95Such words, you may imagine, strongly excited my curiosity.

96But the paroxysm of grief that had seized the stranger overcame my weakened powers, and many hours of repose and tranquil conversation were necessary to restore his composure.

97Having conquered the voice of his feelings, he appeared to despise himself for being the slave of passion.

98And quelling the dark tyranny of despair, he led me again to converse concerning myself personally.

99He asked me the history of my early years.

100The tale was quickly told, but it awakened various trains of reflection.

101I spoke of my desire of finding a friend, of my thirst for a more intimate sympathy with a fellow mind, than had ever fallen to my lot, and expressed my conviction that a man could boast of little happiness who did not enjoy this blessing.

102I agree with you, replied the stranger.

103We are unfashioned creatures, but half made up, if one wiser, better, dearer than ourselves, such a friend ought to be, do not lend his aid to perfectionate our weak and faulty natures.

104I once had a friend, a most noble of human creatures, and am entitled, therefore, to judge respecting friendship.

105You have hope and the world before you, and have no cause for despair.

106But I, I have lost everything, and cannot begin life anew.

107As he said this, his countenance became expressive of a calm, settled grief that touched me to the heart.

108But he was silent, and presently retired to his cabin.

109Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauty of nature.

110The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions seem still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth.

111Such a man has a double existence.

112He may suffer misery and be overwhelmed by disappointments.

113Yet when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.

114Will you smile at the enthusiasm I express concerning this divine wanderer?

115You wonder.

116You would not if you saw him.

117You have been tutored and refined by books, and retirement from the world, and you are therefore rendered somewhat fastidious.

118But this only renders you the more fit to appreciate the extraordinary merits of this wonderful man.

119Sometimes I have endeavored to discover what qualities it is which he possesses that elevates him so immeasurably above all other person I ever knew.

120I believe it to be an intuitive discernment, a quick but never-failing power of judgment, a penetration into the causes of things, unequaled for clearness and precision.

121Add to this a facility of expression and a voice whose varied intonations are soul-subduing music.

122August 19th In an Undisclosed Year in the Eighteenth Century Yesterday the stranger said to me, You may easily perceive, Captain Walton, that I have suffered great and unperiled misfortunes.

123I had determined at one time the memory of these evils should die with me, but you have won me to alter my determination.

124You seek for knowledge and wisdom, as I once did, and I ardently hope that the gratification of your wishes may not be a serpent to sting you, as mine has been.

125I do not know that the relation of my disasters will be useful to you.

126Yet, when I reflect that you are pursuing the same course, exposing yourself to the same dangers which have rendered me what I am, I imagine that you may deduce an apt moral from my tale, one that may direct you if you succeed in your undertaking, and console you in case of failure.

127Prepare to hear of occurrences which are usually deemed marvellous.

128Were we among the tamer scenes of nature, I might fear to encounter your unbelief, perhaps your ridicule.

129but many things will appear possible in these wild and mysterious regions which would provoke the laughter of those unacquainted with the ever-varied powers of nature.

130Nor can I doubt but that my tale conveys in its series internal evidence of the truth of the events of which it is composed.

131You may easily imagine that I was much gratified by the offered communication, yet I could not endure that he should renew his grief by a recital of his misfortunes.

132I felt the greatest eagerness to hear the promised narrative, partly from curiosity and partly from a strong desire to ameliorate his fate if it were in my power.

133I expressed these feelings in my answer.

134I thank you, he replied, for your sympathy, but it is useless.

135My fate is nearly fulfilled.

136I wait but for one event and then I shall repose in peace.

137I understand your feeling, continued he, perceiving that I wished to interrupt him.

138But you are mistaken, my friend, if thus you will allow me to name you.

139Nothing can alter my destiny.

140Listen to my history and you will perceive how irrevocably it is determined.

141He then told me that he would commence his narrative the next day when I should be at leisure.

142This promise drew from me the warmest thanks.

143I have resolved every night when I am not imperatively occupied by my duties to record as nearly as possible in his own words what he has related during the day.

144If I should be engaged, I will at least make notes.

145this manuscript will doubtless afford you the greatest pleasure, but to me who know him and who hear it from his own lips, with what interest and sympathy shall I read it in some future day?

146Even now as I commence my task, his full-toned voice swells in my ears, his lustrous eyes dwell on me with all their melancholy sweetness.

147I see his thin hand raised in animation while the lineaments of his face are radiated by the soul within.

148Strange and harrowing must be his story.

149Frightful the storm which embraced the gallant vessel on its course and wrecked it thus.

150End of section 2