Frankenstein on the Mer de Glace
Beginning in May 1816, Lord Byron, Percy Shelley, and Mary Godwin (future Mary Shelley after her marriage to Percy) stayed in Switzerland, near Geneva. On an excursion to Chamonix in July of that same year, they discovered the Mer de Glace.
Mary was overwhelmed with admiration and noted in her diary that it was during this excursion that she found the inspiration for her character Frankenstein (“write my story”).
The Mer de Glace serves as the backdrop for Dr. Frankenstein’s encounter with his creature in Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel, "Frankenstein or the modern Prometheus".
The passages below take place after the murder of Frankenstein’s brother and the execution of his cousin.
Dr. Frankenstein decides to leave Geneva for the “nearby valleys of the Alps,” and he recounts his arrival in the Chamonix Valley and his reunion with his “creature” on the Mer de Glace.
CHAPTER IX
[…]
Sometimes I could cope with the sullen despair that overwhelmed me: but sometimes the whirlwind passions of my soul drove me to seek, by bodily exercise and by change of place, some relief from my intolerable sensations. It was during an access of this kind that I suddenly left my home, and bending my steps towards the near Alpine valleys, sought in the magnificence, the eternity of such scenes, to forget myself and my ephemeral, because human, sorrows. My wanderings were directed towards the valley of Chamounix. I had visited it frequently during my boyhood. Six years had passed since then : I was a wreck—but nought had changed in those savage and enduring scenes.
I performed the first part of my journey on horseback. I afterwards hired a mule, as the more sure-footed,-and least liable to receive injury on these rugged roads. The weather was fine : it was about the middle of the month of August, nearly two months after the death of Justine; that miserable epoch from which I dated all my woe. The weight upon my spirit was sensibly lightened as I plunged yet deeper in the ravine of Arve. The immense mountains and precipices that overhung me on every side—the sound of the river raging among the rocks, and the dashing of the waterfalls around spoke of a power mighty as Omnipotence—and I ceased to fear, or to bend before any being less almighty than that which had created and ruled the elements, here displayed in their most terrific guise. Still, as I ascended higher, the valley assumed a more magnificent and astonishing character. Ruined castles hanging on the precipices of piny mountains; the impetuous Arve, and cottages every here and there peeping forth from among the trees, formed a scene of singular beauty. But it was augmented and rendered sublime by the mighty Alps, whose white and shining pyramids and domes towered above all, as belonging ta another earth, the habitations of another race of beings.
After the bridge of Pélissier, where the ravine, which the river forms, opened before me, and I began to ascend the mountain that overhangs it. Soon after I entered the valley of Chamounix. This valley is more wonderful and sublime, but not so beautiful and picturesque, as that of Servox, through which I had just passed. The high and snowy mountains were its immediate boundaries; but I saw no more ruined castles and fertile fields. Immense glaciers approach the road; I heard the rumbling thunder of the falling avalanche, and marked the smoke of its passage.
Mont Blanc, the supreme and magnificent Mont Blanc, raised itself from the surrounding aiguilles, and its tremendous dóme overlooked the valley. A tingling long-lost sense of pleasure often came across me during this journey. Some turn in the road, some new object suddenly perceived and recognised, reminded me of days gone by, and were associated with the light-hearted gaiety of boyhood.
The very winds whispered in soothing accents, and maternal nature bademeweep no more. Then again the kindly influence ceased to act—I found myself fettered again to grief and indulging in all the misery of reflection. Then I spurred on my animal, striving so to forget the world, my fears, and, more than all, myself—or, in a more desperate fashion, I alighted, and threw myself on the grass, weighed down by horror and despair.
At length I arrived at the village of Chamounix. Exhaustion succeeded to the extreme fatigue both of body and of mind which Ihad endured. For a short space of time I remained at the window,watching the pallid lightnings that played above Mont Blanc, and listening to the rushing of the Arve, which pursued its noisy way beneath. The same lulling sounds acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations ; when I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came; and blessed the giver of oblivion.
CHAPTER X
I spent the following day roaming through the valley. I stood beside the sources of the Arveiron, which take their rise in a glacier, that with slow pace is advancing down from the summit of the hills, to barricade the valley. The abrupt sides of vast mountains were before me; the icy wall of the glacier overhung me; a few shattered pines were scattered around; and the solemn silence of this glorious presence-chamber of imperial Nature was broken only by the brawling waves, or the fall of some vast fragment, the thunder sound of the avalanche, or the cracking, reverberated along the mountains of the accumulated ice, which, through the silent working of immutable laws, was ever and anon rent and torn, as if it had been but a plaything in their hands.
These sublime and magnificent scenes afforded me the greatest consolation that I was capable of receiving. They elevated me from all littleness of feeling; and although they did not remove my grief, they subdued and tranquillised it.
Where had they fled when the next morning I awoke? All of soul-inspiriting fled with sleep, and dark melancholy clouded every thought. The rain was pouring in torrents, and thick mists hid the summits of the mountains, so that I even saw not the faces of those mighty friends. Still I would penetrate their misty veil, and seek them in their cloudy retreats.
What were rain and storm to me ? My mule was brought to the door, and I resolved to ascend to the summit of Montanvert. I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous and ever-moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first sawit. It had then filled me with a sublime ecstacy, that gave wings to the soul, and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy. The sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed always the effect of solemnising my mind, and causing me to forget the passing cares of life. Idetermined to go without a guide, for I was well acquainted with the path, and the presence of another would destroy the solitary grandeur of the scene.
The ascent is precipitous, but the path is cut into continual and short windings, which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of the mountain. It is a scene terrifically desolate. In a thousand spots the traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived, where trees lie broken and strewed on the ground; some entirely destroyed, others bent, leaning upon the jutting rocks of the mountain, or transversely upon other trees. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines of snow, down which stones continually roll from above ; one of them is particularly dangerous, as theslightest sound, such as even speaking in a loud voice, produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw destruction upon the head of the speaker.
The pines are not tall or luxuriant, but they are sombre, and add an air of severity to the scene. I looked on the valley beneath ; vast mists were rising from the rivers which ran through it, and curling in thick wreaths around the opposite mountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds, while rain poured from the dark sky, and added to the melancholy impression I received from the objects around me.
Alas! why does man boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute ; it only renders them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may convey to us.
The Mer de Glace—Bartlett—Fisher—Virtue—Mont-Blanc Museum Collection, Chamonix
Print, 1832–1833
[…]
It was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent. For some time I sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice, A mist covered both that and the surrounding mountains. Presently a breeze dissipated the cloud, and I descended upon the glacier. The surface is very uneven, rising like the waves of a troubled sea, descending low, and interspersed by rifts that sink deep. The field of ice is almost a league in width, but I spent nearly two hours in crossing it.
The opposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock. From the side where I now stood Montanvert was exactly opposite, at the distance of a league; and above it rose Mont Blanc, in awful majesty. I remained in a recess of the rock, gazing on this wonderful and stupendous scene. The sea, or rather the vast river of ice, wound among its dependent mountains, whose aerial summits hung over its recesses.
Their icy and glittering peaks shone in the sunlight over the clouds. My heart, which was before sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy; I exclaimed — " Wandering spirits, if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in your narrow beds, allow me this faint happiness, or take me, as your companion, away from the joys of life.”
As I said this, I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance, advancing towards me with superhuman speed.
He bounded over the crevices in the ice, among which I had walked with caution ; his stature, also, as he approached, seemed to exceed that of man. I was troubled; a mist came over my eyes, and I felt a faintness seize me ; but I was quickly restored by the cold gale of the mountains. I perceived, as the shape came nearer (sight tremendous and abhorred !) that it was the wretch whom I had created.
AI-generated image
[It is, therefore, on the Mer de Glace that the story of the face-to-face encounter between Dr. Frankenstein and his creature unfolds, as the creature recounts to him, over the course of nearly a day, the events it has experienced since its escape].
CHAPTER XII
I saw him descending the mountain, swifter than an eagle in flight, and it was not long before I lost sight of him among the undulating waves of the Mer de Glace.
[…] Daybreak came before I reached Chamonix. I took no rest, but returned at once to Geneva.
Bibliography
FRANKENSTEIN, or The Modern Prometheus, Mary SHELLEY
Frankenstein sur la Mer de Glace, Editions Guérin, Chamonix