Letter 4

Letter 4

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 a 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 someone 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 a 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 anyone performs an act of kindness towards him or does him

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 demon, 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 of 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 someone 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 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,

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 19, 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!