The monster's early life and self-education

The monster's early life and self-education constitute the most sustained period of innocence and growth in his existence, a span during which he evolves from a confused, sensation-drowned newborn into a sentient, articulate being capable of moral reasoning and desperate longing for companionship. This phase, which he narrates to Victor Frankenstein on the glacier of Montanvert, covers his first awakening in the forest near Ingolstadt, his discovery of fire and shelter, his secret observation of the De Lacey family, his acquisition of language and literacy, his reading of Paradise Lost, Plutarch's Lives, and The Sorrows of Werter, and his discovery of Victor's journal, which reveals the horror of his own origin. It ends with his failed attempt to befriend the blind De Lacey and the violent rejection that drives him to despair and revenge.

Awakening and First Sensations

The monster's earliest memories are a blur of undifferentiated sensation. He recalls a "strange multiplicity of sensations" that seized him all at once — he saw, felt, heard, and smelt simultaneously, and it took a long time before he learned to distinguish between the operations of his various senses. A stronger light pressed upon his nerves, forcing him to shut his eyes; darkness troubled him, but opening them again let the light pour in. He walked and descended, finding that dark, opaque bodies that had surrounded him gave way to a space he could wander through at liberty. The light became oppressive, the heat wearying, and he sought shade in the forest near Ingolstadt, where he lay by a brook, resting until tormented by hunger and thirst. He ate berries he found hanging on trees or lying on the ground, slaked his thirst at the brook, and then fell asleep. When he awoke in the dark, he felt cold and half-frightened, finding himself desolate. He had covered himself with some clothes before leaving Victor's apartment, but they were insufficient against the dews of night. "I was a poor, helpless, miserable wretch; I knew, and could distinguish, nothing; but feeling pain invade me on all sides, I sat down and wept." Soon a gentle light — the moon — stole over the heavens and gave him pleasure; he gazed with wonder as it moved slowly, enlightening his path. He found a huge cloak under a tree, covered himself, and sat down, still confused, with no distinct ideas occupying his mind. Several changes of day and night passed before he began to distinguish his sensations from each other. He gradually saw the clear stream that supplied him with drink and the trees that shaded him. He discovered that a pleasant sound came from the throats of little winged animals — birds — and sometimes tried to imitate their songs but was unable. When he tried to express his own sensations, the uncouth and inarticulate sounds that broke from him frightened him into silence.

Discovery of Fire and the First Encounter with Humans

One day, oppressed by cold, the monster found a fire left by some wandering beggars and was overcome with delight at the warmth. In his joy he thrust his hand into the live embers but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain, marveling that the same cause could produce such opposite effects. He examined the materials of the fire and found it composed of wood; he collected branches, but they were wet and would not burn. Watching the operation of the fire, he saw that wet wood placed near the heat dried and became inflamed. Reflecting on this, he busied himself collecting a great quantity of wood to dry it and have a plentiful supply. When night came, he feared his fire would be extinguished, so he covered it carefully with dry wood and leaves, placed wet branches upon it, and lay down to sleep. In the morning he uncovered it, and a gentle breeze fanned it into a flame; he contrived a fan of branches to rouse the embers when they were nearly extinguished. He found that the fire gave light as well as heat and that the offals travellers had left, when roasted, tasted much more savoury than berries. He tried to dress his food in the same manner, discovering that berries were spoiled by the operation but nuts and roots were much improved. Food became scarce, and he spent whole days searching in vain for a few acorns. Resolving to quit the place, he lamented the loss of the fire he had obtained through accident and could not reproduce. After three days of rambling, he discovered open country covered with snow. He perceived a small hut on a rising ground, built for a shepherd, and entered. An old man sat near a fire preparing his breakfast; on seeing the monster, he shrieked loudly and ran across the fields with surprising speed. The monster devoured the remnants of the shepherd's breakfast — bread, cheese, milk, and wine, the latter of which he did not like — then lay down among some straw and fell asleep. When he awoke at noon, he proceeded across the fields and at sunset arrived at a village. The huts, cottages, and stately houses engaged his admiration; the vegetables in the gardens and the milk and cheese at the windows allured his appetite. He entered one of the best houses, but the children shrieked, a woman fainted, and the whole village was roused. Some fled, some attacked him, and he was grievously bruised by stones and other missile weapons before escaping to the open country. He took refuge in a low hovel attached to a neat cottage, so low he could with difficulty sit upright in it. The floor was dry, and although the wind entered through innumerable chinks, he found it an agreeable asylum from the snow and rain and, still more, from the barbarity of man.

Observation of the De Lacey Family

From his hovel, the monster began to observe the inhabitants of the adjacent cottage through a small, almost imperceptible chink where a window had been filled up with wood. He saw an old man, blind, leaning his head on his hands in a disconsolate attitude; a young girl, Agatha, occupied in arranging the cottage; and a young man, Felix, who returned bearing a load of wood. The old man took up an instrument and played sounds sweeter than the voice of the thrush or nightingale; the silver hair and benevolent countenance of the aged cottager won the monster's reverence, while the gentle manners of the girl enticed his love. He saw the old man raise Agatha and smile with such kindness and affection that he felt sensations of a peculiar and overpowering nature — a mixture of pain and pleasure he had never before experienced — and withdrew from the window, unable to bear these emotions. He soon perceived that the family suffered from poverty; their nourishment consisted entirely of vegetables from their garden and the milk of one cow, which gave very little during the winter. The two younger cottagers often placed food before the old man when they reserved none for themselves. This trait of kindness moved the monster sensibly; he had been accustomed to steal a part of their store at night, but when he found that in doing so he inflicted pain on them, he abstained and satisfied himself with berries, nuts, and roots from a neighbouring wood. He also began to assist their labours secretly, taking Felix's tools at night to bring home firing sufficient for several days. When Agatha opened the door in the morning and saw the great pile of wood, she uttered words in a loud voice, and Felix joined her, both expressing surprise; the monster observed with pleasure that Felix did not go to the forest that day but spent it repairing the cottage and cultivating the garden.

Acquisition of Language and Self-Awareness

By degrees, the monster made a discovery of still greater moment: the cottagers possessed a method of communicating their experience and feelings by articulate sounds. He perceived that the words they spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or sadness, in the minds and countenances of the hearers. This seemed a godlike science, and he ardently desired to become acquainted with it. Their pronunciation was quick, and the words had no apparent connection with visible objects, so he was baffled at first. But after remaining during the space of several revolutions of the moon in his hovel, he discovered the names given to some of the most familiar objects: "fire," "milk," "bread," and "wood." He learned also the names of the cottagers themselves: the old man was called "father," the girl "sister" or "Agatha," and the youth "Felix," "brother," or "son." He could not describe the delight he felt when he learned the ideas appropriated to each sound and was able to pronounce them. He distinguished several other words without yet understanding them, such as "good," "dearest," and "unhappy." The arrival of Safie, a dark-eyed Arabian woman who came to the cottage and was taught language by Felix, accelerated his progress. He listened to the same lessons, and within two months he began to comprehend most of the words uttered by his protectors. He also learned the science of letters as it was taught to Safie, and this opened before him a wide field for wonder and delight. The book from which Felix instructed Safie was Volney's Ruins of Empires; through it the monster obtained a cursory knowledge of history, a view of the several empires of the world, and an insight into the manners, governments, and religions of different nations. He heard of the slothful Asiatics, the genius of the Grecians, the wars and virtue of the early Romans, their subsequent degeneracy, the decline of that mighty empire, chivalry, Christianity, and kings. He heard of the discovery of the American hemisphere and wept with Safie over the hapless fate of its original inhabitants. These narrations inspired him with strange feelings: he saw man as at once powerful, virtuous, and magnificent, yet vicious and base. For a long time he could not conceive how one man could go forth to murder his fellow, but when he heard details of vice and bloodshed, his wonder ceased and he turned away with disgust and loathing. Every conversation of the cottagers opened new wonders; he heard of the division of property, immense wealth and squalid poverty, rank, descent, and noble blood. The words induced him to turn towards himself. He learned that the possessions most esteemed by human beings were high and unsullied descent united with riches. He knew that he possessed no money, no friends, no kind of property; he was endued with a figure hideously deformed and loathsome; he was not even of the same nature as man. "Was I, then, a monster, a blot upon the earth, from which all men fled and whom all men disowned?" He could not describe the agony these reflections inflicted upon him; sorrow only increased with knowledge. "Oh, that I had forever remained in my native wood, nor known nor felt beyond the sensations of hunger, thirst, and heat!"

Reading and the Discovery of His Origin

One night, while collecting food and fuel, the monster found a leathern portmanteau containing several articles of dress and some books: Paradise Lost, a volume of Plutarch's Lives, and The Sorrows of Werter. The possession of these treasures gave him extreme delight. The Sorrows of Werter produced in him an infinity of new images and feelings, sometimes raising him to ecstasy but more frequently sinking him into the lowest dejection. He found in it a never-ending source of speculation and astonishment; the gentle and domestic manners it described, combined with lofty sentiments, accorded well with his experience among his protectors. He thought Werter himself a more divine being than he had ever beheld or imagined. The disquisitions upon death and suicide filled him with wonder; he inclined towards the opinions of the hero, whose extinction he wept without precisely understanding it. Plutarch's Lives had a far different effect: it taught him high thoughts, elevated him above the wretched sphere of his own reflections, and made him admire and love the heroes of past ages. He read of men concerned in public affairs, governing or massacring their species, and felt the greatest ardour for virtue rise within him, and abhorrence for vice. He was led to admire peaceable lawgivers — Numa, Solon, and Lycurgus — in preference to Romulus and Theseus. But Paradise Lost excited different and far deeper emotions. He read it 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. He often referred the several situations to his own. Like Adam, he was apparently united by no link to any other being in existence, but Adam had come forth from the hands of God a perfect creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of his Creator, allowed to converse with and acquire knowledge from beings of a superior nature. "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 these feelings: he discovered in the pocket of the dress he had taken from Victor's laboratory a journal of the four months that preceded his creation. Victor had minutely described every step in the progress of his work, mingled with accounts of domestic occurrences. The monster sickened as he read the whole detail of that series of disgusting circumstances, the minutest description of his odious and loathsome person, in language that painted Victor's own horrors and rendered his own indelible. "Hateful day when I received life!' I exclaimed in agony. Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even YOU turned from me in disgust?'"

The Failed Attempt at Friendship and Its Aftermath

Despite his growing despair, the monster still hoped that the virtues of the cottagers might lead them to compassionate him and overlook his personal deformity. He resolved to fit himself for an interview with them, postponing the attempt for some months. He decided to enter the dwelling when the blind old man, De Lacey, would be alone, reasoning that if he could gain the good will and mediation of the old man, he might be tolerated by the younger protectors. One day, when Safie, Agatha, and Felix departed on a long country walk, the monster knocked at the cottage door. De Lacey invited him in. The monster, speaking in French, presented himself as a traveller in want of rest. He told the old man that he was an unfortunate and deserted creature, with no relation or friend on earth, and that he was about to claim the protection of friends who had never seen him and who were prejudiced against him. De Lacey offered to help if he would confide the particulars of his tale. The monster, seizing the old man's hand, cried out that De Lacey and his family were the friends he sought. At that instant the cottage door opened and Felix, Safie, and Agatha entered. Agatha fainted; Safie rushed out; Felix, with supernatural force, tore the monster from his father's knees, dashed him to the ground, and struck him violently with a stick. The monster could have torn Felix limb from limb but refrained, his heart sinking within him with bitter sickness. Overcome by pain and anguish, he quitted the cottage and escaped unperceived to his hovel. The next day he saw Felix and another man discussing the family's departure; Felix declared they could never again inhabit the cottage. The monster never saw any of the De Lacey family again. In a state of utter and stupid despair, he felt for the first time the feelings of revenge and hatred fill his bosom. He reflected that his protectors had spurned and deserted him, and that night he placed a variety of combustibles around the cottage, and after destroying every vestige of cultivation in the garden, he set the cottage on fire, watching it burn until no assistance could save any part of the habitation. He then resolved to fly far from the scene of his misfortunes, and the thought of Victor — his creator — crossed his mind. He determined to seek him out in Geneva, the native town mentioned in Victor's papers, and from him to seek that justice he had vainly attempted to gain from any other being that wore the human form.