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at Leghorn.
 When alone, Safie resolved in her own mind the plan
of conduct that it would become her to pursue in this
emergency. A residence in Turkey was abhorrent to her;
her religion and her feelings were alike averse to it. By
some papers of her father which fell into her hands she
heard of the exile of her lover and learnt the name of the
spot where he then resided. She hesitated some time, but
at length she formed her determination. Taking with her
some jewels that belonged to her and a sum of money, she
quitted Italy with an attendant, a native of Leghorn, but
who understood the common language of Turkey, and
departed for Germany.
 She arrived in safety at a town about twenty leagues
from the cottage of De Lacey, when her attendant fell
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dangerously ill. Safie nursed her with the most devoted
affection, but the poor girl died, and the Arabian was left
alone, unacquainted with the language of the country and
utterly ignorant of the customs of the world. She fell,
however, into good hands. The Italian had mentioned the
name of the spot for which they were bound, and after her
death the woman of the house in which they had lived
took care that Safie should arrive in safety at the cottage of
her lover.
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Chapter 15
 Such was the history of my beloved cottagers. It
impressed me deeply. I learned, from the views of social
life which it developed, to admire their virtues and to
deprecate the vices of mankind.
 As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil,
benevolence and generosity were ever present before me,
inciting within me a desire to become an actor in the busy
scene where so many admirable qualities were called forth
and displayed. But in giving an account of the progress of
my intellect, I must not omit a circumstance which
occurred in the beginning of the month of August of the
same year.
 One night during my accustomed visit to the
neighbouring wood where I collected my own food and
brought home firing for my protectors, I found on the
ground a leathern portmanteau containing several articles
of dress and some books. I eagerly seized the prize and
returned with it to my hovel. Fortunately the books were
written in the language, the elements of which I had
acquired at the cottage; they consisted of Paradise Lost, a
volume of Plutarch s Lives, and the Sorrows of Werter.
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The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight;
I now continually studied and exercised my mind upon
these histories, whilst my friends were employed in their
ordinary occupations.
 I can hardly describe to you the effect of these books.
They produced in me an infinity of new images and
feelings, that sometimes raised me to ecstasy, but more
frequently sunk me into the lowest dejection. In the
Sorrows of Werter, besides the interest of its simple and
affecting story, so many opinions are canvassed and so
many lights thrown upon what had hitherto been to me
obscure subjects that I found in it a never-ending source of
speculation and astonishment. The gentle and domestic
manners it described, combined with lofty sentiments and
feelings, which had for their object something out of self,
accorded well with my experience among my protectors
and with the wants which were forever alive in my own
bosom. But I thought Werter himself a more divine being
than I had ever beheld or imagined; his character
contained no pretension, but it sank deep. The
disquisitions upon death and suicide were calculated to fill
me with wonder. I did not pretend to enter into the
merits of the case, yet I inclined towards the opinions of
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the hero, whose extinction I wept, without precisely
understanding it.
 As I read, however, I applied much personally to my
own feelings and condition. I found myself similar yet at
the same time strangely unlike to the beings concerning
whom I read and to whose conversation I was a listener. I
sympathized with and partly understood them, but I was
unformed in mind; I was dependent on none and related
to none.  The path of my departure was free, and there
was none to lament my annihilation. My person was
hideous and my stature gigantic. What did this mean?
Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was
my destination? These questions continually recurred, but
I was unable to solve them.
 The volume of Plutarch s Lives which I possessed
contained the histories of the first founders of the ancient
republics. This book had a far different effect upon me
from the Sorrows of Werter. I learned from Werter s
imaginations despondency and gloom, but Plutarch taught
me high thoughts; he elevated me above the wretched
sphere of my own reflections, to admire and love the
heroes of past ages. Many things I read surpassed my
understanding and experience. I had a very confused
knowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of country, mighty
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rivers, and boundless seas. But I was perfectly
unacquainted with towns and large assemblages of men.
The cottage of my protectors had been the only school in
which I had studied human nature, but this book
developed new and mightier scenes of action. I read of
men concerned in public affairs, governing or massacring
their species. I felt the greatest ardour for virtue rise within
me, and abhorrence for vice, as far as I understood the
signification of those terms, relative as they were, as I
applied them, to pleasure and pain alone. Induced by these
feelings, I was of course led to admire peaceable lawgivers,
Numa, Solon, and Lycurgus, in preference to Romulus
and Theseus. The patriarchal lives of my protectors caused
these impressions to take a firm hold on my mind;
perhaps, if my first introduction to humanity had been
made by a young soldier, burning for glory and slaughter,
I should have been imbued with different sensations.
 But Paradise Lost excited different and far deeper
emotions. I read it, as I had read the other volumes which
had fallen into my hands, as a true history. It moved every
feeling of wonder and awe that the picture of an
omnipotent God warring with his creatures was capable of
exciting. I often referred the several situations, as their
similarity struck me, to my own. Like Adam, I was
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apparently united by no link to any other being in
existence; but his state was far different from mine in every
other respect. He had come forth from the hands of God a
perfect creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the
especial care of his Creator; he was allowed to converse
with and acquire knowledge from beings of a superior
nature, but I was wretched, helpless, and alone. Many
times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my
condition, for often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of
my protectors, the bitter gall of envy rose within me.
 Another circumstance strengthened and confirmed
these feelings. Soon after my arrival in the hovel I
discovered some papers in the pocket of the dress which I
had taken from your laboratory. At first I had neglected
them, but now that I was able to decipher the characters
in which they were written, I began to study them with
diligence. It was your journal of the four months that
preceded my creation. You minutely described in these
papers every step you took in the progress of your work;
this history was mingled with accounts of domestic
occurrences. You doubtless recollect these papers. Here
they are. Everything is related in them which bears
reference to my accursed origin; the whole detail of that
series of disgusting circumstances which produced it is set
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in view; the minutest description of my odious and
loathsome person is given, in language which painted your
own horrors and rendered mine indelible. I sickened as I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]