CHAPTER VI.
Clerval then put the following letter into my hands. It was from my ownElizabeth:--
"My dearest Cousin,
"You have been ill, very ill, and even the constant letters of dear kindHenry are not sufficient to reassure me on your account. You areforbidden to write--to hold a pen; yet one word from you, dear Victor,is necessary to calm our apprehensions. For a long time I have thoughtthat each post would bring this line, and my persuasions have restrainedmy uncle from undertaking a journey to Ingolstadt. I have prevented hisencountering the inconveniences and perhaps dangers of so long ajourney; yet how often have I regretted not being able to perform itmyself! I figure to myself that the task of attending on your sick bedhas devolved on some mercenary old nurse, who could never guess yourwishes, nor minister to them with the care and affection of your poorcousin. Yet that is over now: Clerval writes that indeed you are gettingbetter. I eagerly hope that you will confirm this intelligence soon inyour own handwriting.
"Get well--and return to us. You will find a happy, cheerful home, andfriends who love you dearly. Your father's health is vigorous, and heasks but to see you,--but to be assured that you are well; and not acare will ever cloud his benevolent countenance. How pleased you wouldbe to remark the improvement of our Ernest! He is now sixteen, and fullof activity and spirit. He is desirous to be a true Swiss, and to enterinto foreign service; but we cannot part with him, at least until hiselder brother return to us. My uncle is not pleased with the idea of amilitary career in a distant country; but Ernest never had your powersof application. He looks upon study as an odious fetter;--his time isspent in the open air, climbing the hills or rowing on the lake. I fearthat he will become an idler, unless we yield the point, and permit himto enter on the profession which he has selected.
"Little alteration, except the growth of our dear children, has takenplace since you left us. The blue lake, and snow-clad mountains, theynever change;--and I think our placid home, and our contented hearts areregulated by the same immutable laws. My trifling occupations take up mytime and amuse me, and I am rewarded for any exertions by seeing nonebut happy, kind faces around me. Since you left us, but one change hastaken place in our little household. Do you remember on what occasionJustine Moritz entered our family? Probably you do not; I will relateher history, therefore, in a few words. Madame Moritz, her mother, was awidow with four children, of whom Justine was the third. This girl hadalways been the favourite of her father; but, through a strangeperversity, her mother could not endure her, and, after the death of M.Moritz, treated her very ill. My aunt observed this; and, when Justinewas twelve years of age, prevailed on her mother to allow her to live atour house. The republican institutions of our country have producedsimpler and happier manners than those which prevail in the greatmonarchies that surround it. Hence there is less distinction between theseveral classes of its inhabitants; and the lower orders, being neitherso poor nor so despised, their manners are more refined and moral. Aservant in Geneva does not mean the same thing as a servant in Franceand England. Justine, thus received in our family, learned the duties ofa servant; a condition which, in our fortunate country, does not includethe idea of ignorance, and a sacrifice of the dignity of a human being.
"Justine, you may remember, was a great favourite of yours; and Irecollect you once remarked, that if you were in an ill-humour, oneglance from Justine could dissipate it, for the same reason thatAriosto gives concerning the beauty of Angelica--she looked sofrank-hearted and happy. My aunt conceived a great attachment for her,by which she was induced to give her an education superior to that whichshe had at first intended. This benefit was fully repaid; Justine wasthe most grateful little creature in the world: I do not mean that shemade any professions; I never heard one pass her lips; but you could seeby her eyes that she almost adored her protectress. Although herdisposition was gay, and in many respects inconsiderate, yet she paidthe greatest attention to every gesture of my aunt. She thought her themodel of all excellence, and endeavoured to imitate her phraseology andmanners, so that even now she often reminds me of her.
"When my dearest aunt died, every one was too much occupied in their owngrief to notice poor Justine, who had attended her during her illnesswith the most anxious affection. Poor Justine was very ill; but othertrials were reserved for her.
"One by one, her brothers and sister died; and her mother, with theexception of her neglected daughter, was left childless. The conscienceof the woman was troubled; she began to think that the deaths of herfavourites was a judgment from heaven to chastise her partiality. Shewas a Roman catholic; and I believe her confessor confirmed the ideawhich she had conceived. Accordingly, a few months after your departurefor Ingolstadt, Justine was called home by her repentant mother. Poorgirl! she wept when she quitted our house; she was much altered sincethe death of my aunt; grief had given softness and a winning mildness toher manners, which had before been remarkable for vivacity. Nor was herresidence at her mother's house of a nature to restore her gaiety. Thepoor woman was very vacillating in her repentance. She sometimes beggedJustine to forgive her unkindness, but much oftener accused her ofhaving caused the deaths of her brothers and sister. Perpetual frettingat length threw Madame Moritz into a decline, which at first increasedher irritability, but she is now at peace for ever. She died on thefirst approach of cold weather, at the beginning of this last winter.Justine has returned to us; and I assure you I love her tenderly. She isvery clever and gentle, and extremely pretty; as I mentioned before, hermien and her expressions continually remind me of my dear aunt.
"I must say also a few words to you, my dear cousin, of little darlingWilliam. I wish you could see him; he is very tall of his age, withsweet laughing blue eyes, dark eyelashes, and curling hair. When hesmiles, two little dimples appear on each cheek, which are rosy withhealth. He has already had one or two little _wives_, but Louisa Bironis his favourite, a pretty little girl of five years of age.
"Now, dear Victor, I dare say you wish to be indulged in a little gossipconcerning the good people of Geneva. The pretty Miss Mansfield hasalready received the congratulatory visits on her approaching marriagewith a young Englishman, John Melbourne, Esq. Her ugly sister, Manon,married M. Duvillard, the rich banker, last autumn. Your favouriteschoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunes since thedeparture of Clerval from Geneva. But he has already recovered hisspirits, and is reported to be on the point of marrying a very livelypretty Frenchwoman, Madame Tavernier. She is a widow, and much olderthan Manoir; but she is very much admired, and a favourite witheverybody.
"I have written myself into better spirits, dear cousin; but my anxietyreturns upon me as I conclude. Write, dearest Victor,--one line--oneword will be a blessing to us. Ten thousand thanks to Henry for hiskindness, his affection, and his many letters: we are sincerelygrateful. Adieu! my cousin; take care of yourself; and, I entreat you,write!
"ELIZABETH LAVENZA.
"Geneva, March 18th, 17--."
* * * * *
"Dear, dear Elizabeth!" I exclaimed, when I had read her letter, "I willwrite instantly, and relieve them from the anxiety they must feel." Iwrote, and this exertion greatly fatigued me; but my convalescence hadcommenced, and proceeded regularly. In another fortnight I was able toleave my chamber.
One of my first duties on my recovery was to introduce Clerval to theseveral professors of the university. In doing this, I underwent a kindof rough usage, ill befitting the wounds that my mind had sustained.Ever since the fatal night, the end of my labours, and the beginning ofmy misfortunes, I had conceived a violent antipathy even to the name ofnatural philosophy. When I was otherwise quite restored to health, thesight of a chemical instrument would renew all the agony of my nervoussymptoms. Henry saw this, and had removed all my apparatus from my view.He had also changed my apartment; for he perceived that I had acquired adislike for the room which had previously been my laboratory. But thesecares of Clerval were made of no avail when
I visited the professors. M.Waldman inflicted torture when he praised, with kindness and warmth, theastonishing progress I had made in the sciences. He soon perceived thatI disliked the subject; but not guessing the real cause, he attributedmy feelings to modesty, and changed the subject from my improvement, tothe science itself, with a desire, as I evidently saw, of drawing meout. What could I do? He meant to please, and he tormented me. I felt asif he had placed carefully, one by one, in my view those instrumentswhich were to be afterwards used in putting me to a slow and crueldeath. I writhed under his words, yet dared not exhibit the pain I felt.Clerval, whose eyes and feelings were always quick in discerning thesensations of others, declined the subject, alleging, in excuse, histotal ignorance; and the conversation took a more general turn. Ithanked my friend from my heart, but I did not speak. I saw plainly thathe was surprised, but he never attempted to draw my secret from me; andalthough I loved him with a mixture of affection and reverence that knewno bounds, yet I could never persuade myself to confide to him thatevent which was so often present to my recollection, but which I fearedthe detail to another would only impress more deeply.
M. Krempe was not equally docile; and in my condition at that time, ofalmost insupportable sensitiveness, his harsh blunt encomiums gave meeven more pain than the benevolent approbation of M. Waldman. "D--n thefellow!" cried he; "why, M. Clerval, I assure you he has outstript usall. Ay, stare if you please; but it is nevertheless true. A youngsterwho, but a few years ago, believed in Cornelius Agrippa as firmly as inthe gospel, has now set himself at the head of the university; and if heis not soon pulled down, we shall all be out of countenance.--Ay, ay,"continued he, observing my face expressive of suffering, "M.Frankenstein is modest; an excellent quality in a young man. Young menshould be diffident of themselves, you know, M. Clerval: I was myselfwhen young; but that wears out in a very short time."
M. Krempe had now commenced an eulogy on himself, which happily turnedthe conversation from a subject that was so annoying to me.
Clerval had never sympathised in my tastes for natural science; and hisliterary pursuits differed wholly from those which had occupied me. Hecame to the university with the design of making himself complete masterof the oriental languages, as thus he should open a field for the planof life he had marked out for himself. Resolved to pursue no ingloriouscareer, he turned his eyes toward the East, as affording scope for hisspirit of enterprise. The Persian, Arabic, and Sanscrit languagesengaged his attention, and I was easily induced to enter on the samestudies. Idleness had ever been irksome to me, and now that I wished tofly from reflection, and hated my former studies, I felt great relief inbeing the fellow-pupil with my friend, and found not only instructionbut consolation in the works of the orientalists. I did not, like him,attempt a critical knowledge of their dialects, for I did notcontemplate making any other use of them than temporary amusement. Iread merely to understand their meaning, and they well repaid mylabours. Their melancholy is soothing, and their joy elevating, to adegree I never experienced in studying the authors of any other country.When you read their writings, life appears to consist in a warm sun anda garden of roses,--in the smiles and frowns of a fair enemy, and thefire that consumes your own heart. How different from the manly andheroical poetry of Greece and Rome!
Summer passed away in these occupations, and my return to Geneva wasfixed for the latter end of autumn; but being delayed by severalaccidents, winter and snow arrived, the roads were deemed impassable,and my journey was retarded until the ensuing spring. I felt this delayvery bitterly; for I longed to see my native town and my belovedfriends. My return had only been delayed so long, from an unwillingnessto leave Clerval in a strange place, before he had become acquaintedwith any of its inhabitants. The winter, however, was spent cheerfully;and although the spring was uncommonly late, when it came its beautycompensated for its dilatoriness.
The month of May had already commenced, and I expected the letter dailywhich was to fix the date of my departure, when Henry proposed apedestrian tour in the environs of Ingolstadt, that I might bid apersonal farewell to the country I had so long inhabited. I acceded withpleasure to this proposition: I was fond of exercise, and Clerval hadalways been my favourite companion in the rambles of this nature that Ihad taken among the scenes of my native country.
We passed a fortnight in these perambulations: my health and spirits hadlong been restored, and they gained additional strength from thesalubrious air I breathed, the natural incidents of our progress, andthe conversation of my friend. Study had before secluded me from theintercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me unsocial; butClerval called forth the better feelings of my heart; he again taught meto love the aspect of nature, and the cheerful faces of children.Excellent friend! how sincerely did you love me, and endeavour toelevate my mind until it was on a level with your own! A selfish pursuithad cramped and narrowed me, until your gentleness and affection warmedand opened my senses; I became the same happy creature who, a few yearsago, loved and beloved by all, had no sorrow or care. When happy,inanimate nature had the power of bestowing on me the most delightfulsensations. A serene sky and verdant fields filled me with ecstasy. Thepresent season was indeed divine; the flowers of spring bloomed in thehedges, while those of summer were already in bud. I was undisturbed bythoughts which during the preceding year had pressed upon me,notwithstanding my endeavours to throw them off, with an invincibleburden.
Henry rejoiced in my gaiety, and sincerely sympathised in my feelings:he exerted himself to amuse me, while he expressed the sensations thatfilled his soul. The resources of his mind on this occasion were trulyastonishing: his conversation was full of imagination; and very often,in imitation of the Persian and Arabic writers, he invented tales ofwonderful fancy and passion. At other times he repeated my favouritepoems, or drew me out into arguments, which he supported with greatingenuity.
We returned to our college on a Sunday afternoon: the peasants weredancing, and every one we met appeared gay and happy. My own spiritswere high, and I bounded along with feelings of unbridled joy andhilarity.
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