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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