PREFACE
THE event on which this fiction is
founded has been supposed, by Dr. Darwin, and some of the
physiological writers of Germany, as not of impossible occurrence. I
shall not be supposed as according the remotest degree of serious
faith to such an imagination; yet, in assuming it as the basis of a
work of fancy, I have not considered myself as merely weaving a
series of supernatural terrors. The event on which the interest of
the story depends is exempt from the disadvantages of a mere tale of
spectres or enchantment. It was recommended by the novelty of the
situations which it developes; and, however impossible as a physical
fact, affords a point of view to the imagination for the delineating
of human passions more comprehensive and commanding than any which
the ordinary relations of existing events can yield.
I have
thus endeavoured to preserve the truth of the elementary principles
of human nature, while I have not scrupled to innovate upon their
combinations. The Iliad, the tragic poetry of
Greece--Shakspeare, in the Tempest and Midsummer Night's
Dream--and most especially Milton, in Paradise Lost,
conform to this rule; and the most humble novelist, who seeks to
confer or receive amusement from his labours, may, without
presumption, apply to prose fiction a licence, or rather a rule,
from the adoption of which so many exquisite combinations of human
feeling have resulted in the highest specimens of poetry.
The circumstance on which my story rests was suggested in
casual conversation. It was commenced partly as a source of
amusement, and partly as an expedient for exercising any untried
resources of mind. Other motives were mingled with these as the work
proceeded. I am by no means indifferent to the manner in which
whatever moral tendencies exist in the sentiments or characters it
contains shall affect the reader; yet my chief concern in this
respect has been limited to the avoiding the enervating effects of
the novels of the present day and to the exhibition of the
amiableness of domestic affection, and the excellence of universal
virtue. The opinions which naturally spring from the character and
situation of the hero are by no means to be conceived as existing
always in my own conviction; nor is any inference justly to be drawn
from the following pages as prejudicing any philosophical doctrine
of whatever kind.
It is a subject also of additional
interest to the author that this story was begun in the majestic
region where the scene is principally laid, and in society which
cannot cease to be regretted. I passed the summer of 1816 in the
environs of Geneva. The season was cold and rainy, and in the
evenings we crowded around a blazing wood fire, and occasionally
amused ourselves with some German stories of ghosts, which happened
to fall into our hands. These tales excited in us a playful desire
of imitation. Two other friends (a tale from the pen of one of whom
would be far more acceptable to the public than anything I can ever
hope to produce) and myself agreed to write each a story founded on
some supernatural occurrence.
The weather, however, suddenly
became serene; and my two friends left me on a journey among the
Alps, and lost, in the magnificent scenes which they present, all
memory of their ghostly visions. The following tale is the only one
which has been completed. MARLOW, September 1817.
LETTER I
To Mrs. Saville, England
ST. PETERSBURGH,
Dec. 11,
17--.
| You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has
accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have
regarded with such evil forebodings. I arrived here yesterday; and
my first task is to assure my dear sister of my welfare, and
increasing confidence in the success of my undertaking.
I am
already far north of London; and as I walk in the streets of
Petersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks,
which braces my nerves, and fills me with delight. Do you understand
this feeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions
towards which I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy
climes. Inspirited by this wind of promise, my day dreams become
more fervent and vivid. I try in vain to be persuaded that the pole
is the seat of frost and desolation; it ever presents itself to my
imagination as the region of beauty and delight.
There,
Margaret, the sun is for ever visible; its broad disk just skirting
the horizon, and diffusing a perpetual splendour. There--for with
your leave, my sister, I will put some trust in preceding
navigators--there snow and frost are banished; and, sailing over a
calm sea, we may be wafted to a land surpassing in wonders and in
beauty every region hitherto discovered on the habitable globe. Its
productions and features may be without example, as the phenomena of
the heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscovered solitudes.
What may not be expected in a country of eternal light? I may there
discover the wondrous power which attracts the needle; and may
regulate a thousand celestial observations, that require only this
voyage to render their seeming eccentricities consistent for ever. I
shall satiate my ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the
world never before visited, and may tread a land never before
imprinted by the foot of man. These are my enticements, and they are
sufficient to conquer all fear of danger or death, and to induce me
to commence this laborious voyage with the joy a child feels when he
embarks in a little boat, with his holiday mates, on an expedition
of discovery up his native river. But, supposing all these
conjectures to be false, you cannot contest the inestimable benefit
which I shall confer on all mankind to the last generation, by
discovering a passage near the pole to those countries, to reach
which at present so many months are requisite; or by ascertaining
the secret of the magnet, which, if at all possible, can only be
effected by an undertaking such as mine.
These reflections
have dispelled the agitation with which I began my letter, and I
feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me to heaven;
for nothing contributes so much to tranquillise the mind as a steady
purpose--a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye.
This expedition has been the favourite dream of my early years. I
have read with ardour the accounts of the various voyages which have
been made in the prospect of arriving at the North Pacific Ocean
through the seas which surround the pole. You may remember that a
history of all the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed
the whole of our good uncle Thomas's library. My education was
neglected, yet I was passionately fond of reading. These volumes
were my study day and night, and my familiarity with them increased
that regret which I had felt, as a child, on learning that my
father's dying injunction had forbidden my uncle to allow me to
embark in a seafaring life.
These visions faded when I
perused, for the first time, those poets whose effusions entranced
my soul, and lifted it to heaven. I also became a poet, and for one
year lived in a Paradise of my own creation; I imagined that I also
might obtain a niche in the temple where the names of Homer and
Shakspeare are consecrated. You are well acquainted with my failure,
and how heavily I bore the disappointment. But just at that time I
inherited the fortune of my cousin, and my thoughts were turned into
the channel of their earlier bent.
Six years have passed
since I resolved on my present undertaking. I can, even now,
remember the hour from which I dedicated myself to this great
enterprise. I commenced by inuring my body to hardship. I
accompanied the whale-fishers on several expeditions to the North
Sea; I voluntarily endured cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep;
I often worked harder than the common sailors during the day, and
devoted my nights to the study of mathematics, the theory of
medicine, and those branches of physical science from which a naval
adventurer might derive the greatest practical advantage. Twice I
actually hired myself as an under-mate in a Greenland whaler, and
acquitted myself to admiration. I must own I felt a little proud
when my captain offered me the second dignity in the vessel, and
entreated me to remain with the greatest earnestness; so valuable
did he consider my services.
And now, dear Margaret, do I
not deserve to accomplish some great purpose? My life might have
been passed in ease and luxury; but I preferred glory to every
enticement that wealth placed in my path. Oh, that some encouraging
voice would answer in the affirmative! My courage and my resolution
is firm; but my hopes fluctuate and my spirits are often depressed.
I am about to proceed on a long and difficult voyage, the
emergencies of which will demand all my fortitude: I am required not
only to raise the spirits of others, but sometimes to sustain my
own, when theirs are failing.
This is the most favourable
period for travelling in Russia. They fly quickly over the snow in
their sledges; the motion is pleasant, and, in my opinion, far more
agreeable than that of an English stage-coach. The cold is not
excessive, if you are wrapped in furs--a dress which I have already
adopted; for there is a great difference between walking the deck
and remaining seated motionless for hours, when no exercise prevents
the blood from actually freezing in your veins. I have no ambition
to lose my life on the post-road between St. Petersburgh and
Archangel.
I shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight
or three weeks; and my intention is to hire a ship there, which can
easily be done by paying the insurance for the owner, and to engage
as many sailors as I think necessary among those who are accustomed
to the whale-fishing. I do not intend to sail until the month of
June; and when shall I return? Ah, dear sister, how can I answer
this question? If I succeed, many, many months, perhaps years, will
pass before you and I may meet. If I fail, you will see me again
soon, or never.
Farewell, my dear, excellent Margaret.
Heaven shower down blessings on you, and save me, that I may again
and again testify my gratitude for all your love and kindness.--Your
affectionate brother, R. WALTON.
LETTER II
To Mrs. Saville, England
ARCHANGEL,
March 28th, 17--.
| How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am
by frost and snow! yet a second step is taken towards my enterprise.
I have hired a vessel, and am occupied in collecting my sailors;
those whom I have already engaged appear to be men on whom I can
depend, and are certainly possessed of dauntless courage.
But I have one want which I have never yet been able to
satisfy; and the absence of the object of which I now feel as a most
severe evil. I have no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the
enthusiasm of success, there will be none to participate my joy; if
I am assailed by disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me
in dejection. I shall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true; but
that is a poor medium for the communication of feeling. I desire the
company of a man who could sympathise with me; whose eyes would
reply to mine. You may deem me romantic, my dear sister, but I
bitterly feel the want of a friend. I have no one near me, gentle
yet courageous, possessed of a cultivated as well as of a capacious
mind, whose tastes are like my own, to approve or amend my plans.
How would such a friend repair the faults of your poor brother! I am
too ardent in execution, and too impatient of difficulties. But it
is a still greater evil to me that I am self-educated: for the first
fourteen years of my life I ran wild on a common, and read nothing
but our uncle Thomas's books of voyages. At that age I became
acquainted with the celebrated poets of our own country; but it was
only when it had ceased to be in my power to derive its most
important benefits from such a conviction that I perceived the
necessity of becoming acquainted with more languages than that of my
native country. Now I am twenty-eight, and am in reality more
illiterate than many schoolboys of fifteen. It is true that I have
thought more, and that my day dreams are more extended and
magnificent; but they want (as the painters call it) _keeping_; and
I greatly need a friend who would have sense enough not to despise
me as romantic, and affection enough for me to endeavour to regulate
my mind.
Well, these are useless complaints; I shall
certainly find no friend on the wide ocean, nor even here in
Archangel, among merchants and seamen. Yet some feelings, unallied
to the dross of human nature, beat even in these rugged bosoms. My
lieutenant, for instance, is a man of wonderful courage and
enterprise; he is madly desirous of glory: or rather, to word my
phrase more characteristically, of advancement in his profession. He
is an Englishman, and in the midst of national and professional
prejudices, unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of the noblest
endowments of humanity. I first became acquainted with him on board
a whale vessel: finding that he was unemployed in this city, I
easily engaged him to assist in my enterprise.
The master is
a person of an excellent disposition, and is remarkable in the ship
for his gentleness and the mildness of his discipline. This
circumstance, added to his well known integrity and dauntless
courage, made me very desirous to engage him. A youth passed in
solitude, my best years spent under your gentle and feminine
fosterage, has so refined the groundwork of my character that I
cannot overcome an intense distaste to the usual brutality exercised
on board ship: I have never believed it to be necessary; and when I
heard of a mariner equally noted for his kindliness of heart, and
the respect and obedience paid to him by his crew, I felt myself
peculiarly fortunate in being able to secure his services. I heard
of him first in rather a romantic manner, from a lady who owes to
him the happiness of her life. This, briefly, is his story. Some
years ago he loved a young Russian lady of moderate fortune; and
having amassed a considerable sum in prize-money, the father of the
girl consented to the match. He saw his mistress once before the
destined ceremony; but she was bathed in tears, and, throwing
herself at his feet, entreated him to spare her, confessing at the
same time that she loved another, but that he was poor, and that her
father would never consent to the union. My generous friend
reassured the suppliant, and on being informed of the name of her
lover, instantly abandoned his pursuit. He had already bought a farm
with his money, on which he had desired to pass the remainder of his
life; but he bestowed the whole on his rival, together with the
remains of his prize-money to purchase stock, and then himself
solicited the young woman's father to consent to her marriage with
her lover. But the old man decidedly refused, thinking himself bound
in honour to my friend; who, when he found the father inexorable,
quitted his country, nor returned until he heard that his former
mistress was married according to her inclinations. "What a noble
fellow!" you will exclaim. He is so; but then he is wholly
uneducated: he is as silent as a Turk, and a kind of ignorant
carelessness attends him, which, while it renders his conduct the
more astonishing, detracts from the interest and sympathy which
otherwise he would command.
Yet do not suppose, because I
complain a little, or because I can conceive a consolation for my
toils which I may never know, that I am wavering in my resolutions.
Those are as fixed as fate; and my voyage is only now delayed until
the weather shall permit my embarkation. The winter has been
dreadfully severe; but the spring promises well, and it is
considered as a remarkably early season; so that perhaps I may sail
sooner than I expected. I shall do nothing rashly: you know me
sufficiently to confide in my prudence and considerateness whenever
the safety of others is committed to my care.
I cannot
describe to you my sensations on the near prospect of my
undertaking. It is impossible to communicate to you a conception of
the trembling sensation, half pleasurable and half fearful, with
which I am preparing to depart. I am going to unexplored regions, to
"the land of mist and snow;" but I shall kill no albatross,
therefore do not be alarmed for my safety, or if I should come back
to you as worn and woeful as the "Ancient Mariner?" You will smile
at my allusion; but I will disclose a secret. I have often
attributed my attachment to, my passionate enthusiasm for, the
dangerous mysteries of ocean, to that production of the most
imaginative of modern poets. There is something at work in my soul
which I do not understand. I am practically
industrious--painstaking;--a workman to execute with perseverance
and labour:--but besides this, there is a love for the marvellous, a
belief in the marvellous, intertwined in all my projects, which
hurries me out of the common pathways of men, even to the wild sea
and unvisited regions I am about to explore.
But to return to
dearer considerations. Shall I meet you again, after having
traversed immense seas, and returned by the most southern cape of
Africa or America? I dare not expect such success, yet I cannot bear
to look on the reverse of the picture. Continue for the present to
write to me by every opportunity: I may receive your letters on some
occasions when I need them most to support my spirits. I love you
very tenderly. Remember me with affection, should you never hear
from me again.--Your affectionate brother, ROBERT WALTON.
LETTER III
To Mrs. Saville, England
July 7th,
17--.
|
MY DEAR SISTER,--I write a few lines in
haste, to say that I am safe, and well advanced on my voyage. This
letter will reach England by a merchantman now on its homeward
voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not see my
native land, perhaps, for many years. I am, however, in good
spirits: my men are bold, and apparently firm of purpose; nor do the
floating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the
dangers of the region towards which we are advancing, appear to
dismay them. We have already reached a very high latitude; but it is
the height of summer, and although not so warm as in England, the
southern gales, which blow us speedily towards those shores which I
so ardently desire to attain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth
which I had not expected.
No incidents have hitherto
befallen us that would make a figure in a letter. One or two stiff
gales, and the springing of a leak, are accidents which experienced
navigators scarcely remember to record; and I shall be well content
if nothing worse happen to us during our voyage.
Adieu, my
dear Margaret. Be assured that for my own sake, as well as yours, I
will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool, persevering, and
prudent.
But success shall crown my endeavours.
Wherefore not? Thus far I have gone, tracing a secure way over the
pathless seas: the very stars themselves being witnesses and
testimonies of my triumph. Why not still proceed over the united yet
obedient element? What can stop the determined heart and resolved
will of man? My swelling heart involuntarily pours itself out thus.
But I must finish. Heaven bless my beloved sister! R. W.
LETTER IV
To Mrs. Saville, England
August 5th,
17--.
| So
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.
Last
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. Our situation was somewhat dangerous, especially as we
were compassed round by a very thick fog. We accordingly lay to,
hoping that some change would take place in the atmosphere and
weather.
About 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. Some of my comrades groaned,
and my own mind began to grow watchful with anxious thoughts, when 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
the distance of half a mile: a being which had the shape of man, but
apparently of gigantic stature, sat in the sledge, and guided the
dogs. We watched the rapid progress of the traveller with our
telescopes, until he was lost among the distant inequalities of the
ice.
This appearance excited our unqualified wonder. We
were, as we believed, many hundred miles from any land; but this
apparition seemed to denote that it was not, in reality, so distant
as we had supposed. Shut in, however, by ice, it was impossible to
follow his track, which we had observed with the greatest attention.
About two hours after this occurrence, we heard the ground
sea; and before night the ice broke, and freed our ship. We,
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. I profited of this time to rest for a few hours.
In
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 some one in the sea. It 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. Only one dog remained alive; but there was a
human being within it, whom the sailors were persuading to enter the
vessel. He was not, as the other traveller seemed to be, a savage
inhabitant of some undiscovered island, but an European. When I
appeared on deck, the master said, "Here is our captain, and he will
not allow you to perish on the open sea."
On perceiving me,
the stranger addressed me in English, although with a foreign
accent. "Before I come on board your vessel," said he, "will you
have the kindness to inform me whither you are bound?"
You
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. I replied, however, that we were on a voyage of discovery
towards the northern pole.
Upon hearing this he appeared
satisfied, and consented to come on board. Good God! Margaret, if
you had seen the man who thus capitulated for his safety, your
surprise would have been boundless. His limbs were nearly frozen,
and his body dreadfully emaciated by fatigue and suffering. I never
saw a man in so wretched a condition. We attempted to carry him into
the cabin; but as soon as he had quitted the fresh air, he fainted.
We 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. As soon as he showed signs of life we wrapped him up
in blankets, and placed him near the chimney of the kitchen stove.
By slow degrees he recovered, and ate a little soup, which restored
him wonderfully.
Two days passed in this manner before he
was able to speak; and I often feared that his sufferings had
deprived him of understanding. When he had in some measure
recovered, I removed him to my own cabin, and attended on him as
much as my duty would permit. I never saw a more interesting
creature: his eyes have generally an expression of wildness, and
even madness; but there are moments when, if any one performs an act
of kindness towards him, or does him any the most trifling service,
his whole countenance is lighted up, as it were, with a beam of
benevolence and sweetness that I never saw equalled. But he is
generally melancholy and despairing; and sometimes he gnashes his
teeth, as if impatient of the weight of woes that oppresses him.
When my guest was a little recovered, I had great trouble to
keep off the men, who wished to ask him a thousand questions; but 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. Once, however, the lieutenant asked, Why he had come
so far upon the ice in so strange a vehicle?
His countenance
instantly assumed an aspect of the deepest gloom; and he replied,
"To seek one who fled from me."
"And did the man whom you
pursued travel in the same fashion?" "
Yes."
"Then 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."
This aroused the stranger's attention; and he asked a
multitude of questions concerning the route which the daemon, as he
called him, had pursued. Soon after, when he was alone with me, he
said,--"I have, doubtless, excited your curiosity, as well as that
of these good people; but you are too considerate to make
inquiries."
"Certainly; it would indeed be very impertinent
and inhuman in me to trouble you with any inquisitiveness of mine."
"And yet you rescued me from a strange and perilous
situation; you have benevolently restored me to life."
Soon
after this he inquired if I thought that the breaking up of the ice
had destroyed the other sledge? I replied that I could not answer
with any degree of certainty; for the ice had not broken until near
midnight, and the traveller might have arrived at a place of safety
before that time; but of this I could not judge.
From this
time a new spirit of life animated the decaying frame of the
stranger. He manifested the greatest eagerness to be upon deck, to
watch for the sledge which had before appeared; but I have persuaded
him to remain in the cabin, for he is far too weak to sustain the
rawness of the atmosphere. I have promised that some one should
watch for him, and give him instant notice if any new object should
appear in sight.
Such is my journal of what relates to this
strange occurrence up to the present day. The stranger has gradually
improved in health, but is very silent, and appears uneasy when any
one except myself enters his cabin. Yet his manners are so
conciliating and gentle that the sailors are all interested in him,
although they have had very little communication with him. For my
own part, I begin to love him as a brother; and his constant and
deep grief fills me with sympathy and compassion. He must have been
a noble creature in his better days, being 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.
I shall continue my journal concerning the stranger at
intervals, should I have any fresh incidents to record.
August 13th,
17--.
| My
affection for my guest increases every day. He excites at once my
admiration and my pity to an astonishing degree. How can I see so
noble a creature destroyed by misery, without feeling the most
poignant grief? He is so gentle, yet so wise; his mind is so
cultivated; and when he speaks, although his words are culled with
the choicest art, yet they flow with rapidity and unparalleled
eloquence.
He is now much recovered from his illness, and is
continually on the deck, apparently watching for the sledge that
preceded his own. Yet, although unhappy, he is not so utterly
occupied by his own misery but that he interests himself deeply in
the projects of others. He has frequently conversed with me on mine,
which I have communicated to him without disguise. He entered
attentively into all my arguments in favour of my eventual success,
and into every minute detail of the measures I had taken to secure
it. I was easily led by the sympathy which he evinced to use the
language of my heart; to give utterance to the burning ardour of my
soul; and to say, with all the fervour that warmed me, how gladly I
would sacrifice my fortune, my existence, my every hope, to the
furtherance of my enterprise. One 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. As I spoke, a dark gloom spread over my
listener's countenance. At first I perceived that he tried to
suppress his emotion; he placed his hands before his eyes; and my
voice quivered and failed me, as I beheld tears trickle fast from
between his fingers--a groan burst from his heaving breast. I
paused;--at length he spoke, in broken accents:-- "Unhappy man! Do
you share my madness? Have you drank also of the intoxicating
draught? Hear me--let me reveal my tale, and you will dash the cup
from your lips!"
Such words, you may imagine, strongly
excited my curiosity; but the paroxysm of grief that had seized the
stranger overcame his weakened powers, and many hours of repose and
tranquil conversation were necessary to restore his composure.
Having conquered the violence of his feelings, he appeared
to despise himself for being the slave of passion; and quelling the
dark tyranny of despair, he led me again to converse concerning
myself personally. He asked me the history of my earlier years. The
tale was quickly told: but it awakened various trains of reflection.
I 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.
"I agree with
you," replied the stranger; "we 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. I once had a friend, the most noble of human
creatures, and am entitled, therefore, to judge respecting
friendship. You have hope, and the world before you, and have no
cause for despair. But I--I have lost everything, and cannot begin
life anew."
As he said this, his countenance became
expressive of a calm settled grief that touched me to the heart. But
he was silent, and presently retired to his cabin.
Even
broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does
the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight
afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power
of elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence:
he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet
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.
Will you smile at the enthusiasm I express
concerning this divine wanderer? You would not if you saw him. You
have been tutored and refined by books and retirement from the
world, and you are, therefore, somewhat fastidious; but this only
renders you the more fit to appreciate the extraordinary merits of
this wonderful man. Sometimes I have endeavoured to discover what
quality it is which he possesses that elevates him so immeasurably
above any other person I ever knew. I believe it to be an intuitive
discernment; a quick but never-failing power of judgment; a
penetration into the causes of things, unequalled for clearness and
precision; add to this a facility of expression, and a voice whose
varied intonations are soul-subduing music.
August 19th,
17--.
| Yesterday the stranger said to me, "You may easily
perceive, Captain Walton that I have suffered great and unparalleled
misfortunes. I had determined, at one time, that the memory of these
evils should die with me; but you have won me to alter my
determination. You 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. I do not know that the
relation of my disasters will be useful to you; yet, 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.
Prepare to hear of occurrences which are usually deemed marvellous.
Were we among the tamer scenes of nature, I might fear to encounter
your unbelief, perhaps your ridicule; but 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:--nor can I doubt but that my tale conveys in its series
internal evidence of the truth of the events of which it is
composed."
You 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. I 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. I expressed these feelings in my answer.
"I thank
you," he replied, "for your sympathy, but it is useless; my fate is
nearly fulfilled. I wait but for one event, and then I shall repose
in peace. I understand your feeling," continued he, perceiving that
I wished to interrupt him; "but you are mistaken, my friend, if thus
you will allow me to name you; nothing can alter my destiny listen
to my history, and you will perceive how irrevocably it is
determined."
He then told me that he would commence his
narrative the next day when I should be at leisure. This promise
drew from me the warmest thanks. I 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. If I
should be engaged, I will at least make notes. This 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! Even 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; I see his thin hand raised
in animation, while the lineaments of his face are irradiated by the
soul within. Strange and harrowing must be his story; frightful the
storm which embraced the gallant vessel on its course, and wrecked
it--thus!
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