The being finished speaking,
and fixed his looks upon me in
expectation of a reply. But I
was bewildered, perplexed and
unable to arrange my ideas sufficiently
to understand the full extent
of his proposition. He continued--
"You must create
a female for me, with whom
I can live in the
interchange of those sympathies
necessary for my being. This
you alone can do; and I demand
it of you as a right which you
must not refuse to concede."
The latter part of his tale
had kindled anew in me the anger
that had died away while he narrated
his peaceful life among the cottagers,
and, as he said this, I could
no longer suppress the rage that
burned within me.
"I do refuse it," I replied; "and
no torture shall ever extort
a consent from me. You may render
me the most miserable of men,
but you shall never make me base
in my own eyes. Shall I create
another like yourself, whose
joint wickedness might desolate
the world! Begone! I have answered
you; you may torture me, but
I will never consent."
"You are in the wrong," replied
the fiend; "and, instead of threatening,
I am content to reason with you.
I am malicious because I am miserable.
Am I not shunned and hated by
all mankind? You, my creator,
would tear me to pieces, and
triumph; remember that, and tell
me why I should pity man more
than he pities me? You would
not call it murder if you could
precipitate me into one of those
ice-rifts, and destroy my frame,
the work of your own hands. Shall
I respect man when he contemns
me? Let him live with me in the
interchange of kindness; and,
instead of injury, I would bestow
every benefit upon him with tears
of gratitude at his acceptance.
But that cannot be; the human
senses are insurmountable barriers
to our union. Yet mine shall
not be the submission of abject
slavery. I will revenge my injuries:
if I cannot inspire love, I will
cause fear; and chiefly towards
you my arch-enemy, because my
creator, do I swear inextinguishable
hatred. Have a care: I will work
at your destruction, nor finish
until I desolate your heart,
so that you shall curse the hour
of your birth."
A fiendish rage animated him
as he said this; his face was
wrinkled into contortions too
horrible for human eyes to behold;
but presently he calmed himself
and proceeded--
"I intended
to reason. This passion is
detrimental to me;
for you do not reflect that _you_
are the cause of its excess.
If any being felt emotions of
benevolence towards me, I should
return them an hundred and an
hundred fold; for that one creature's
sake, I would make peace with
the whole kind! But I now indulge
in dreams of bliss that cannot
be realised. What I ask of you
is reasonable and moderate; I
demand a creature of another
sex, but as hideous as myself;
the gratification is small, but
it is all that I can receive,
and it shall content me. It is
true we shall be monsters, cut
off from all the world; but on
that account we shall be more
attached to one another. Our
lives will not be happy, but
they will be harmless, and free
from the misery I now feel. Oh!
my creator, make me happy; let
me feel gratitude towards you
for one benefit! Let me see that
I excite the sympathy of some
existing thing; do not deny me
my request!"
I was moved. I shuddered when
I thought of the possible consequences
of my consent; but I felt that
there was some justice in his
argument. His tale, and the feelings
he now expressed, proved him
to be a creature of fine sensations;
and did I not as his maker owe
him all the portion of happiness
that it was in my power to bestow?
He saw my change of feeling and
continued--
"If you consent,
neither you nor any other human
being shall
ever see us again: I will go
to the vast wilds of South America.
My food is not that of man; I
do not destroy the lamb and the
kid to glut my appetite; acorns
and berries afford me sufficient
nourishment. My companion will
be of the same nature as myself,
and will be content with the
same fare. We shall make our
bed of dried leaves; the sun
will shine on us as on man, and
will ripen our food. The picture
I present to you is peaceful
and human, and you must feel
that you could deny it only in
the wantonness of power and cruelty.
Pitiless as you have been towards
me, I now see compassion in your
eyes; let me seize the favourable
moment, and persuade you to promise
what I so ardently desire."
"You propose," replied I, "to
fly from the habitations of man,
to dwell in those wilds where
the beasts of the field will
be your only companions. How
can you, who long for the love
and sympathy of man, persevere
in this exile? You will return,
and again seek their kindness,
and you will meet with their
detestation; your evil passions
will be renewed, and you will
then have a companion to aid
you in the task of destruction.
This may not be: cease to argue
the point, for I cannot consent."
"How inconstant
are your feelings! but a moment
ago you were moved
by my representations, and why
do you again harden yourself
to my complaints? I swear to
you, by the earth which I inhabit,
and by you that made me, that,
with the companion you bestow,
I will quit the neighbourhood
of man, and dwell as it may chance
in the most savage of places.
My evil passions will have fled,
for I shall meet with sympathy!
my life will flow quietly away,
and, in my dying moments, I shall
not curse my maker."
His words had a strange effect
upon me. I compassionated him,
and sometimes felt a wish to
console him; but when I looked
upon him, when I saw the filthy
mass that moved and talked, my
heart sickened, and my feelings
were altered to those of horror
and hatred. I tried to stifle
these sensations; I thought that,
as I could not sympathise with
him, I had no right to withhold
from him the small portion of
happiness which was yet in my
power to bestow.
"You swear," I said, "to
be harmless; but have you not
already
shown a degree of malice that
should reasonably make me distrust
you? May not even this be a feint
that will increase your triumph
by affording a wider scope for
your revenge."
"How is this?
I must not be trifled with:
and I demand an
answer. If I have no ties and
no affections, hatred and vice
must be my portion; the love
of another will destroy the cause
of my crimes, and I shall become
a thing of whose existence every
one will be ignorant. My vices
are the children of a forced
solitude that I abhor; and my
virtues will necessarily arise
when I live in communion with
an equal. I shall feel the affections
of a sensitive being, and become
linked to the chain of existence
and events, from which I am now
excluded."
I paused some time to reflect
on all he had related, and the
various arguments which he had
employed. I thought of the promise
of virtues which he had displayed
on the opening of his existence,
and the subsequent blight of
all kindly feeling by the loathing
and scorn which his protectors
had manifested towards him. His
power and threats were not omitted
in my calculations: a creature
who could exist in the ice-caves
of the glaciers, and hide himself
from pursuit among the ridges
of inaccessible precipices, was
a being possessing faculties
it would be vain to cope with.
After a long pause of reflection,
I concluded that the justice
due both to him and my fellow-creatures
demanded of me that I should
comply with his request. Turning
to him, therefore, I said--
"I consent
to your demand, on your solemn
oath to quit Europe
for ever, and every other place
in the neighbourhood of man,
as soon as I shall deliver into
your hands a female who will
accompany you in your exile."
"I swear," he cried, "by
the sun, and by the blue sky
of Heaven,
and by the fire of love that
burns my heart, that if you grant
my prayer, while they exist you
shall never behold me again.
Depart to your home, and commence
your labours: I shall watch their
progress with unutterable anxiety;
and fear not but that when you
are ready I shall appear."
Saying this, he suddenly quitted
me, fearful, perhaps, of any
change in my sentiments. I saw
him descend the mountain with
greater speed than the flight
of an eagle, and quickly lost
among the undulations of the
sea of ice.
His tale had
occupied the whole day; and
the sun was upon the
verge of the horizon when he
departed. I knew that I ought
to hasten my descent towards
the valley, as I should soon
be encompassed in darkness; but
my heart was heavy, and my steps
slow. The labour of winding among
the little paths of the mountains,
and fixing my feet firmly as
I advanced, perplexed me, occupied
as I was by the emotions which
the occurrences of the day had
produced. Night was far advanced
when I came to the half-way resting-place,
and seated myself beside the
fountain. The stars shone at
intervals, as the clouds passed
from over them; the dark pines
rose before me, and every here
and there a broken tree lay on
the ground: it was a scene of
wonderful solemnity, and stirred
strange thoughts within me. I
wept bitterly; and clasping my
hands in agony, I exclaimed, "Oh!
stars, and clouds, and winds,
ye are all about to mock me:
if ye really pity me, crush sensation
and memory; let me become as
nought; but if not, depart, depart,
and leave me in darkness."
These were wild and miserable
thoughts; but I cannot describe
to you how the eternal twinkling
of the stars weighed upon me,
and how I listened to every blast
of wind as if it were a dull
ugly siroc on its way to consume
me.
Morning dawned before I arrived
at the village of Chamounix;
I took no rest, but returned
immediately to Geneva. Even in
my own heart I could give no
expression to my sensations--they
weighed on me with a mountain's
weight, and their excess destroyed
my agony beneath them. Thus I
returned home, and entering the
house, presented myself to the
family. My haggard and wild appearance
awoke intense alarm; but I answered
no question, scarcely did I speak.
I felt as if I were placed under
a ban--as if I had no right to
claim their sympathies--as if
never more might I enjoy companionship
with them. Yet even thus I loved
them to adoration; and to save
them, I resolved to dedicate
myself to my most abhorred task.
The prospect of such an occupation
made every other circumstance
of existence pass before me like
a dream; and that thought only
had to me the reality of life. |