Day after day, week after week, passed away on my return to Geneva; and
I could not collect the courage to recommence my work. I feared the
vengeance of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to overcome my
repugnance to the task which was enjoined me. I found that I could not
compose a female without again devoting several months to profound study
and laborious disquisition. I had heard of some discoveries having been
made by an English philosopher, the knowledge of which was material to
my success, and I sometimes thought of obtaining my father's consent to
visit England for this purpose; but I clung to every pretence of delay,
and shrunk from taking the first step in an undertaking whose immediate
necessity began to appear less absolute to me. A change indeed had taken
place in me: my health, which had hitherto declined, was now much
restored; and my spirits, when unchecked by the memory of my unhappy
promise, rose proportionably. My father saw this change with pleasure,
and he turned his thoughts towards the best method of eradicating the
remains of my melancholy, which every now and then would return by fits,
and with a devouring blackness overcast the approaching sunshine. At
these moments I took refuge in the most perfect solitude. I passed whole
days on the lake alone in a little boat, watching the clouds, and
listening to the rippling of the waves, silent and listless. But the
fresh air and bright sun seldom failed to restore me to some degree of
composure; and, on my return, I met the salutations of my friends with a
readier smile and a more cheerful heart.
It was after my return from one of these rambles, that my father,
calling me aside, thus addressed me:--
"I am happy to remark, my dear son, that you have resumed your former
pleasures, and seem to be returning to yourself. And yet you are still
unhappy, and still avoid our society. For some time I was lost in
conjecture as to the cause of this; but yesterday an idea struck me, and
if it is well founded, I conjure you to avow it. Reserve on such a point
would be not only useless, but draw down treble misery on us all."
I trembled violently at his exordium, and my father continued--
"I confess, my son, that I have always looked forward to your marriage
with our dear Elizabeth as the tie of our domestic comfort, and the stay
of my declining years. You were attached to each other from your
earliest infancy; you studied together, and appeared, in dispositions
and tastes, entirely suited to one another. But so blind is the
experience of man, that what I conceived to be the best assistants to my
plan, may have entirely destroyed it. You, perhaps, regard her as your
sister, without any wish that she might become your wife. Nay, you may
have met with another whom you may love; and, considering yourself as
bound in honour to Elizabeth, this struggle may occasion the poignant
misery which you appear to feel."
"My dear father, reassure yourself. I love my cousin tenderly and
sincerely. I never saw any woman who excited, as Elizabeth does, my
warmest admiration and affection. My future hopes and prospects are
entirely bound up in the expectation of our union."
"The expression of your sentiments of this subject, my dear Victor,
gives me more pleasure than I have for some time experienced. If you
feel thus, we shall assuredly be happy, however present events may cast
a gloom over us. But it is this gloom which appears to have taken so
strong a hold of your mind, that I wish to dissipate. Tell me,
therefore, whether you object to an immediate solemnisation of the
marriage. We have been unfortunate, and recent events have drawn us
from that every-day tranquillity befitting my years and infirmities. You
are younger; yet I do not suppose, possessed as you are of a competent
fortune, that an early marriage would at all interfere with any future
plans of honour and utility that you may have formed. Do not suppose,
however, that I wish to dictate happiness to you, or that a delay on
your part would cause me any serious uneasiness. Interpret my words with
candour, and answer me, I conjure you, with confidence and sincerity."
I listened to my father in silence, and remained for some time incapable
of offering any reply. I revolved rapidly in my mind a multitude of
thoughts, and endeavoured to arrive at some conclusion. Alas! to me the
idea of an immediate union with my Elizabeth was one of horror and
dismay. I was bound by a solemn promise, which I had not yet fulfilled,
and dared not break; or, if I did, what manifold miseries might not
impend over me and my devoted family! Could I enter into a festival with
this deadly weight yet hanging round my neck, and bowing me to the
ground. I must perform my engagement, and let the monster depart with
his mate, before I allowed myself to enjoy the delight of an union from
which I expected peace.
I remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying to
England, or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophers
of that country, whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensable
use to me in my present undertaking. The latter method of obtaining the
desired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory: besides, I had an
insurmountable aversion to the idea of engaging myself in my loathsome
task in my father's house, while in habits of familiar intercourse with
those I loved. I knew that a thousand fearful accidents might occur, the
slightest of which would disclose a tale to thrill all connected with me
with horror. I was aware also that I should often lose all self-command,
all capacity of hiding the harrowing sensations that would possess me
during the progress of my unearthly occupation. I must absent myself
from all I loved while thus employed. Once commenced, it would quickly
be achieved, and I might be restored to my family in peace and
happiness. My promise fulfilled, the monster would depart for ever. Or
(so my fond fancy imaged) some accident might meanwhile occur to destroy
him, and put an end to my slavery for ever.
These feelings dictated my answer to my father. I expressed a wish to
visit England; but, concealing the true reasons of this request, I
clothed my desires under a guise which excited no suspicion, while I
urged my desire with an earnestness that easily induced my father to
comply. After so long a period of an absorbing melancholy, that
resembled madness in its intensity and effects, he was glad to find that
I was capable of taking pleasure in the idea of such a journey, and he
hoped that change of scene and varied amusement would, before my return,
have restored me entirely to myself.
The duration of my absence was left to my own choice; a few months, or
at most a year, was the period contemplated. One paternal kind
precaution he had taken to ensure my having a companion. Without
previously communicating with me, he had, in concert with Elizabeth,
arranged that Clerval should join me at Strasburgh. This interfered with
the solitude I coveted for the prosecution of my task; yet at the
commencement of my journey the presence of my friend could in no way be
an impediment, and truly I rejoiced that thus I should be saved many
hours of lonely, maddening reflection. Nay, Henry might stand between me
and the intrusion of my foe. If I were alone, would he not at times
force his abhorred presence on me, to remind me of my task, or to
contemplate its progress?
To England, therefore, I was bound, and it was understood that my union
with Elizabeth should take place immediately on my return. My father's
age rendered him extremely averse to delay. For myself, there was one
reward I promised myself from my detested toils--one consolation for my
unparalleled sufferings; it was the prospect of that day when,
enfranchised from my miserable slavery, I might claim Elizabeth, and
forget the past in my union with her.
I now made arrangements for my journey; but one feeling haunted me,
which filled me with fear and agitation. During my absence I should
leave my friends unconscious of the existence of their enemy, and
unprotected from his attacks, exasperated as he might be by my
departure. But he had promised to follow me wherever I might go; and
would he not accompany me to England? This imagination was dreadful in
itself, but soothing, inasmuch as it supposed the safety of my friends.
I was agonised with the idea of the possibility that the reverse of this
might happen. But through the whole period during which I was the slave
of my creature, I allowed myself to be governed by the impulses of the
moment; and my present sensations strongly intimated that the fiend
would follow me, and exempt my family from the danger of his
machinations.
It was in the latter end of September that I again quitted my native
country. My journey had been my own suggestion, and Elizabeth,
therefore, acquiesced: but she was filled with disquiet at the idea of
my suffering, away from her, the inroads of misery and grief. It had
been her care which provided me a companion in Clerval--and yet a man is
blind to a thousand minute circumstances, which call forth a woman's
sedulous attention. She longed to bid me hasten my return,--a thousand
conflicting emotions rendered her mute, as she bade me a tearful silent
farewell.
I threw myself into the carriage that was to convey me away, hardly
knowing whither I was going, and careless of what was passing around. I
remembered only, and it was with a bitter anguish that I reflected on
it, to order that my chemical instruments should be packed to go with
me. Filled with dreary imaginations, I passed through many beautiful and
majestic scenes; but my eyes were fixed and unobserving. I could only
think of the bourne of my travels, and the work which was to occupy me
whilst they endured.
After some days spent in listless indolence, during which I traversed
many leagues, I arrived at Strasburgh, where I waited two days for
Clerval. He came. Alas, how great was the contrast between us! He was
alive to every new scene; joyful when he saw the beauties of the setting
sun, and more happy when he beheld it rise, and recommence a new day.
He pointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape, and the
appearances of the sky. "This is what it is to live," he cried, "now I
enjoy existence! But you, my dear Frankenstein, wherefore are you
desponding and sorrowful!" In truth, I was occupied by gloomy thoughts,
and neither saw the descent of the evening star, nor the golden sunrise
reflected in the Rhine.--And you, my friend, would be far more amused
with the journal of Clerval, who observed the scenery with an eye of
feeling and delight, than in listening to my reflections. I, a miserable
wretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to enjoyment.
We had agreed to descend the Rhine in a boat from Strasburgh to
Rotterdam, whence we might take shipping for London. During this voyage,
we passed many willowy islands, and saw several beautiful towns. We
stayed a day at Manheim, and, on the fifth from our departure from
Strasburgh, arrived at Mayence. The course of the Rhine below Mayence
becomes much more picturesque. The river descends rapidly, and winds
between hills, not high, but steep, and of beautiful forms. We saw many
ruined castles standing on the edges of precipices, surrounded by black
woods, high and inaccessible. This part of the Rhine, indeed, presents a
singularly variegated landscape. In one spot you view rugged hills,
ruined castles overlooking tremendous precipices, with the dark Rhine
rushing beneath; and, on the sudden turn of a promontory, flourishing
vineyards, with green sloping banks, and a meandering river, and
populous towns occupy the scene.
We travelled at the time of the vintage, and heard the song of the
labourers, as we glided down the stream. Even I, depressed in mind, and
my spirits continually agitated by gloomy feelings, even I was pleased.
I lay at the bottom of the boat, and, as I gazed on the cloudless blue
sky, I seemed to drink in a tranquillity to which I had long been a
stranger. And if these were my sensations, who can describe those of
Henry? He felt as if he had been transported to Fairy-land, and enjoyed
a happiness seldom tasted by man. "I have seen," he said, "the most
beautiful scenes of my own country; I have visited the lakes of Lucerne
and Uri, where the snowy mountains descend almost perpendicularly to the
water, casting black and impenetrable shades, which would cause a gloomy
and mournful appearance, were it not for the most verdant islands that
relieve the eye by their gay appearance; I have seen this lake agitated
by a tempest, when the wind tore up whirlwinds of water, and gave you an
idea of what the water-spout must be on the great ocean; and the waves
dash with fury the base of the mountain, where the priest and his
mistress were overwhelmed by an avalanche, and where their dying voices
are still said to be heard amid the pauses of the nightly wind; I have
seen the mountains of La Valais, and the Pays de Vaud: but this country,
Victor, pleases me more than all those wonders. The mountains of
Switzerland are more majestic and strange; but there is a charm in the
banks of this divine river, that I never before saw equalled. Look at
that castle which overhangs yon precipice; and that also on the island,
almost concealed amongst the foliage of those lovely trees; and now that
group of labourers coming from among their vines; and that village half
hid in the recess of the mountain. Oh, surely, the spirit that inhabits
and guards this place has a soul more in harmony with man, than those
who pile the glacier, or retire to the inaccessible peaks of the
mountains of our own country."
Clerval! beloved friend! even now it delights me to record your words,
and to dwell on the praise of which you are so eminently deserving. He
was a being formed in the "very poetry of nature." His wild and
enthusiastic imagination was chastened by the sensibility of his heart.
His soul overflowed with ardent affections, and his friendship was of
that devoted and wondrous nature that the worldly-minded teach us to
look for only in the imagination. But even human sympathies were not
sufficient to satisfy his eager mind. The scenery of external nature,
which others regard only with admiration, he loved with ardour:--
----"The sounding cataract
Haunted him like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to him
An appetite; a feeling, and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, or any interest
Unborrow'd from the eye"[3]
[Footnote 3: Wordsworth's Tintern Abbey.]
And where does he now exist? Is this gentle and lovely being lost for
ever? Has this mind, so replete with ideas, imaginations fanciful and
magnificent, which formed a world, whose existence depended on the life
of its creator;--has this mind perished? Does it now only exist in my
memory? No, it is not thus; your form so divinely wrought, and beaming
with beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits and consoles your
unhappy friend.
Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slight
tribute to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart,
overflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates. I will
proceed with my tale.
Beyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolved to
post the remainder of our way; for the wind was contrary, and the stream
of the river was too gentle to aid us.
Our journey here lost the interest arising from beautiful scenery; but
we arrived in a few days at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea to
England. It was on a clear morning, in the latter days of December, that
I first saw the white cliffs of Britain. The banks of the Thames
presented a new scene; they were flat, but fertile, and almost every
town was marked by the remembrance of some story. We saw Tilbury Fort,
and remembered the Spanish armada; Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich,
places which I had heard of even in my country.
At length we saw the numerous steeples of London, St. Paul's towering
above all, and the Tower famed in English history.