Frankenstein | Page 9

uneasy when
anyone 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 drunk 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 seem
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,