I lay on my straw, sleepless, turning over the day's events. What struck me most was the gentle manner of these people, and I longed to join them, yet dared not. The memory of the villagers' brutality the night before held me back. Whatever course I might one day pursue, for now I would remain quietly in my hovel, watching, endeavouring to discover the motives that governed their actions.
The cottagers rose before the sun. The young woman arranged the cottage and prepared food; the youth departed after the first meal. The day followed the same pattern as the day before. The young man worked constantly outdoors; the girl laboured at various tasks within. The old man, whom I soon perceived to be blind, passed his leisure hours on his instrument or in contemplation. Nothing could exceed the love and respect the younger cottagers showed their venerable companion. They performed every little office of affection and duty with gentleness, and he rewarded them with benevolent smiles.
Yet they were not entirely happy. The young man and his companion often went apart and appeared to weep. I saw no cause for their unhappiness, but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures could be miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being, should be wretched. Yet why were these gentle beings unhappy? They possessed a delightful house and every luxury; they had a fire to warm them when chill and delicious viands when hungry; they were dressed in excellent clothes; and, still more, they enjoyed one another's company and speech, interchanging each day looks of affection and kindness. What did their tears imply? Did they truly express pain? At first I could not solve these questions, but perpetual attention and time explained many appearances that had been enigmatic.
A considerable period elapsed before I discovered one of the causes of their uneasiness: poverty. They suffered that evil in a very distressing degree. Their nourishment consisted entirely of garden vegetables and the milk of one cow, which gave very little during winter, when its masters could scarcely procure food to support it. They often, I believe, suffered the pangs of hunger poignantly, especially the two younger cottagers, for several times they placed food before the old man when they reserved none for themselves.
This trait of kindness moved me sensibly. I had been accustomed, during the night, to steal a part of their store for my own consumption; but when I found that doing so inflicted pain on the cottagers, I abstained and satisfied myself with berries, nuts, and roots gathered from a neighbouring wood.
I discovered another means of assisting their labours. The youth spent a great part of each day collecting wood for the family fire, and during the night I often took his tools, whose use I quickly discovered, and brought home firing sufficient for several days' consumption.
I remember the first time I did this. The young woman, opening the door in the morning, appeared greatly astonished at seeing a great pile of wood outside. She uttered words in a loud voice, and the youth joined her, both expressing surprise. I observed with pleasure that he did not go to the forest that day, but spent it repairing the cottage and cultivating the garden.
By degrees I made a discovery of still greater moment. I found that these people possessed a method of communicating their experience and feelings by articulate sounds. I perceived that the words they spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or sadness, in the minds and countenances of the hearers. This was indeed a godlike science, and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it. But I was baffled in every attempt. Their pronunciation was quick, and the words, having no apparent connection with visible objects, offered me no clue by which to unravel the mystery of their reference. By great application, however, and after remaining several revolutions of the moon in my hovel, I discovered the names given to some of the most familiar objects of discourse. I learned and applied the words *fire, milk, bread,* and *wood.* I learned also the names of the cottagers themselves. The youth and his companion had each several names, but the old man had only one, which was *father.* The girl was called *sister* or *Agatha,* and the youth *Felix, brother,* or *son.* I cannot describe the delight I felt when I learned the ideas appropriated to each of these sounds and was able to pronounce them. I distinguished several other words without yet being able to understand or apply them, such as *good, dearest, unhappy.*
I spent the winter in this manner. The gentle manners and beauty of the cottagers greatly endeared them to me; when they were unhappy, I felt depressed; when they rejoiced, I sympathised in their joys. I saw few human beings besides them, and if any other happened to enter the cottage, their harsh manners and rude gait only enhanced the superior accomplishments of my friends. The old man, I could perceive, often endeavoured to encourage his children, as he sometimes called them, to cast off their melancholy. He would talk in a cheerful accent, with an expression of goodness that bestowed pleasure even upon me. Agatha listened with respect, her eyes sometimes filled with tears, which she endeavoured to wipe away unperceived; but I generally found that her countenance and tone were more cheerful after having listened to her father's exhortations. It was not thus with Felix. He was always the saddest of the group, and even to my unpractised senses he appeared to have suffered more deeply than his friends. But if his countenance was more sorrowful, his voice was more cheerful than that of his sister, especially when he addressed the old man.
I could mention innumerable instances which, though slight, marked the dispositions of these amiable cottagers. In the midst of poverty and want, Felix carried with pleasure to his sister the first little white flower that peeped out from beneath the snowy ground. Early in the morning, before she had risen, he cleared away the snow that obstructed her path to the milk-house, drew water from the well, and brought wood from the outhouse, where, to his perpetual astonishment, he found his store always replenished by an invisible hand. In the day, I believe, he worked sometimes for a neighbouring farmer, because he often went forth and did not return until dinner, yet brought no wood with him. At other times he worked in the garden, but as there was little to do in the frosty season, he read to the old man and Agatha.
This reading had puzzled me extremely at first, but by degrees I discovered that he uttered many of the same sounds when he read as when he talked. I conjectured, therefore, that he found on the paper signs for speech which he understood, and I ardently longed to comprehend these also; but how was that possible when I did not even understand the sounds for which they stood as signs? I improved, however, sensibly in this science, but not sufficiently to follow up any kind of conversation, although I applied my whole mind to the endeavour, for I easily perceived that, although I eagerly longed to discover myself to the cottagers, I ought not to make the attempt until I had first become master of their language, which knowledge might enable me to make them overlook the deformity of my figure, for with this also the contrast perpetually presented to my eyes had made me acquainted.
I had admired the perfect forms of my cottagers—their grace, beauty, and delicate complexions; but how was I terrified when I viewed myself in a transparent pool! At first I started back, unable to believe that it was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror; and when I became fully convinced that I was in reality the monster that I am, I was filled with the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification. Alas! I did not yet entirely know the fatal effects of this miserable deformity.
As the sun became warmer and the light of day longer, the snow vanished, and I beheld the bare trees and the black earth. From this time Felix was more employed, and the heart-moving indications of impending famine disappeared. Their food, as I afterwards found, was coarse, but it was wholesome, and they procured a sufficiency of it. Several new kinds of plants sprang up in the garden, which they dressed; and these signs of comfort increased daily as the season advanced.
The old man, leaning on his son, walked each day at noon, when it did not rain, as I found it was called when the heavens poured forth their waters. This frequently took place, but a high wind quickly dried the earth, and the season became far more pleasant than it had been.
My mode of life in my hovel was uniform. During the morning I attended the motions of the cottagers, and when they were dispersed in various occupations, I slept; the remainder of the day was spent in observing my friends. When they had retired to rest, if there was any moon or the night was star-light, I went into the woods and collected my own food and fuel for the cottage. When I returned, as often as it was necessary, I cleared their path from the snow and performed those offices that I had seen done by Felix. I afterwards found that these labours, performed by an invisible hand, greatly astonished them; and once or twice I heard them, on these occasions, utter the words *good spirit, wonderful*; but I did not then understand the signification of these terms.
My thoughts now became more active, and I longed to discover the motives and feelings of these lovely creatures; I was inquisitive to know why Felix appeared so miserable and Agatha so sad. I thought—foolish wretch!—that it might be in my power to restore happiness to these deserving people. When I slept or was absent, the forms of the venerable blind father, the gentle Agatha, and the excellent Felix flitted before me. I looked upon them as superior beings who would be the arbiters of my future destiny. I formed in my imagination a thousand pictures of presenting myself to them, and their reception of me. I imagined that they would be disgusted, until, by my gentle demeanour and conciliating words, I should first win their favour and afterwards their love.
These thoughts exhilarated me and led me to apply with fresh ardour to the acquiring the art of language. My organs were indeed harsh, but supple; and although my voice was very unlike the soft music of their tones, yet I pronounced such words as I understood with tolerable ease. It was as the ass and the lap-dog; yet surely the gentle ass whose intentions were affectionate, although his manners were rude, deserved better treatment than blows and execration.
The pleasant showers and genial warmth of spring greatly altered the aspect of the earth. Men who before this change seemed to have been hid in caves dispersed themselves and were employed in various arts of cultivation. The birds sang in more cheerful notes, and the leaves began to bud forth on the trees. Happy, happy earth! Fit habitation for gods, which, so short a time before, was bleak, damp, and unwholesome. My spirits were elevated by the enchanting appearance of nature; the past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil, and the future gilded by bright rays of hope and anticipations of joy.