CHAPTER XVIII.
Day after day, week after week, passed away on my return to Geneva; andI could not collect the courage to recommence my work. I feared thevengeance of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to overcome myrepugnance to the task which was enjoined me. I found that I could notcompose a female without again devoting several months to profound studyand laborious disquisition. I had heard of some discoveries having beenmade by an English philosopher, the knowledge of which was material tomy success, and I sometimes thought of obtaining my father's consent tovisit England for this purpose; but I clung to every pretence of delay,and shrunk from taking the first step in an undertaking whose immediatenecessity began to appear less absolute to me. A change indeed had takenplace in me: my health, which had hitherto declined, was now muchrestored; and my spirits, when unchecked by the memory of my unhappypromise, rose proportionably. My father saw this change with pleasure,and he turned his thoughts towards the best method of eradicating theremains of my melancholy, which every now and then would return by fits,and with a devouring blackness overcast the approaching sunshine. Atthese moments I took refuge in the most perfect solitude. I passed wholedays on the lake alone in a little boat, watching the clouds, andlistening to the rippling of the waves, silent and listless. But thefresh air and bright sun seldom failed to restore me to some degree ofcomposure; and, on my return, I met the salutations of my friends with areadier 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 formerpleasures, and seem to be returning to yourself. And yet you are stillunhappy, and still avoid our society. For some time I was lost inconjecture as to the cause of this; but yesterday an idea struck me, andif it is well founded, I conjure you to avow it. Reserve on such a pointwould 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 marriagewith our dear Elizabeth as the tie of our domestic comfort, and the stayof my declining years. You were attached to each other from yourearliest infancy; you studied together, and appeared, in dispositionsand tastes, entirely suited to one another. But so blind is theexperience of man, that what I conceived to be the best assistants to myplan, may have entirely destroyed it. You, perhaps, regard her as yoursister, without any wish that she might become your wife. Nay, you mayhave met with another whom you may love; and, considering yourself asbound in honour to Elizabeth, this struggle may occasion the poignantmisery which you appear to feel."
"My dear father, reassure yourself. I love my cousin tenderly andsincerely. I never saw any woman who excited, as Elizabeth does, mywarmest admiration and affection. My future hopes and prospects areentirely 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 youfeel thus, we shall assuredly be happy, however present events may casta gloom over us. But it is this gloom which appears to have taken sostrong a hold of your mind, that I wish to dissipate. Tell me,therefore, whether you object to an immediate solemnisation of themarriage. We have been unfortunate, and recent events have drawn usfrom that every-day tranquillity befitting my years and infirmities. Youare younger; yet I do not suppose, possessed as you are of a competentfortune, that an early marriage would at all interfere with any futureplans 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 onyour part would cause me any serious uneasiness. Interpret my words withcandour, and answer me, I conjure you, with confidence and sincerity."
I listened to my father in silence, and remained for some time incapableof offering any reply. I revolved rapidly in my mind a multitude ofthoughts, and endeavoured to arrive at some conclusion. Alas! to me theidea of an immediate union with my Elizabeth was one of horror anddismay. 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 notimpend over me and my devoted family! Could I enter into a festival withthis deadly weight yet hanging round my neck, and bowing me to theground. I must perform my engagement, and let the monster depart withhis mate, before I allowed myself to enjoy the delight of an union fromwhich I expected peace.
I remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying toEngland, or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophersof that country, whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensableuse to me in my present undertaking. The latter method of obtaining thedesired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory: besides, I had aninsurmountable aversion to the idea of engaging myself in my loathsometask in my father's house, while in habits of familiar intercourse withthose I loved. I knew that a thousand fearful accidents might occur, theslightest of which would disclose a tale to thrill all connected with mewith horror. I was aware also that I should often lose all self-command,all capacity of hiding the harrowing sensations that would possess meduring the progress of my unearthly occupation. I must absent myselffrom all I loved while thus employed. Once commenced, it would quicklybe achieved, and I might be restored to my family in peace andhappiness. My promise fulfilled, the monster would depart for ever. Or(so my fond fancy imaged) some accident might meanwhile occur to destroyhim, and put an end to my slavery for ever.
These feelings dictated my answer to my father. I expressed a wish tovisit England; but, concealing the true reasons of this request, Iclothed my desires under a guise which excited no suspicion, while Iurged my desire with an earnestness that easily induced my father tocomply. After so long a period of an absorbing melancholy, thatresembled madness in its intensity and effects, he was glad to find thatI was capable of taking pleasure in the idea of such a journey, and hehoped 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, orat most a year, was the period contemplated. One paternal kindprecaution he had taken to ensure my having a companion. Withoutpreviously communicating with me, he had, in concert with Elizabeth,arranged that Clerval should join me at Strasburgh. This interfered withthe solitude I coveted for the prosecution of my task; yet at thecommencement of my journey the presence of my friend could in no way bean impediment, and truly I rejoiced that thus I should be saved manyhours of lonely, maddening reflection. Nay, Henry might stand between meand the intrusion of my foe. If I were alone, would he not at timesforce his abhorred presence on me, to remind me of my task, or tocontemplate its progress?
To England, therefore, I was bound, and it was understood that my unionwith Elizabeth should take place immediately on my return. My father'sage rendered him extremely averse to delay. For myself, there was onereward I promised myself from my detested toils--one consolation for myunparalleled sufferings; it was the prospect of that day when,enfranchised from my miserable slavery, I might claim Elizabeth, andforget 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 shouldleave my friends unconscious of the existence of their enemy, andunprotected from his attacks, exasperated as he might be by mydeparture. But he had promised to follow me wherever I might go; andwould he not accompany me to England? This imagination was dreadful initself, but soothing, inasmuch as it supposed the safety of my friends.I was agonised with the idea of the possibility that the reverse of thismight happen. But through the whole period during which I was the slaveof my creature, I allowed myself to be governed by the impulses of themoment; and my present sensations strongly intimated that the fiendwould follow me, and exempt my family from the danger of hismachinations.
It was in the latter end of September that I again quitted my nativecountry. My journey had been m
y own suggestion, and Elizabeth,therefore, acquiesced: but she was filled with disquiet at the idea ofmy suffering, away from her, the inroads of misery and grief. It hadbeen her care which provided me a companion in Clerval--and yet a man isblind to a thousand minute circumstances, which call forth a woman'ssedulous attention. She longed to bid me hasten my return,--a thousandconflicting emotions rendered her mute, as she bade me a tearful silentfarewell.
I threw myself into the carriage that was to convey me away, hardlyknowing whither I was going, and careless of what was passing around. Iremembered only, and it was with a bitter anguish that I reflected onit, to order that my chemical instruments should be packed to go withme. Filled with dreary imaginations, I passed through many beautiful andmajestic scenes; but my eyes were fixed and unobserving. I could onlythink of the bourne of my travels, and the work which was to occupy mewhilst they endured.
After some days spent in listless indolence, during which I traversedmany leagues, I arrived at Strasburgh, where I waited two days forClerval. He came. Alas, how great was the contrast between us! He wasalive to every new scene; joyful when he saw the beauties of the settingsun, 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 theappearances of the sky. "This is what it is to live," he cried, "now Ienjoy existence! But you, my dear Frankenstein, wherefore are youdesponding and sorrowful!" In truth, I was occupied by gloomy thoughts,and neither saw the descent of the evening star, nor the golden sunrisereflected in the Rhine.--And you, my friend, would be far more amusedwith the journal of Clerval, who observed the scenery with an eye offeeling and delight, than in listening to my reflections. I, a miserablewretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to enjoyment.
We had agreed to descend the Rhine in a boat from Strasburgh toRotterdam, whence we might take shipping for London. During this voyage,we passed many willowy islands, and saw several beautiful towns. Westayed a day at Manheim, and, on the fifth from our departure fromStrasburgh, arrived at Mayence. The course of the Rhine below Mayencebecomes much more picturesque. The river descends rapidly, and windsbetween hills, not high, but steep, and of beautiful forms. We saw manyruined castles standing on the edges of precipices, surrounded by blackwoods, high and inaccessible. This part of the Rhine, indeed, presents asingularly variegated landscape. In one spot you view rugged hills,ruined castles overlooking tremendous precipices, with the dark Rhinerushing beneath; and, on the sudden turn of a promontory, flourishingvineyards, with green sloping banks, and a meandering river, andpopulous towns occupy the scene.
We travelled at the time of the vintage, and heard the song of thelabourers, as we glided down the stream. Even I, depressed in mind, andmy 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 bluesky, I seemed to drink in a tranquillity to which I had long been astranger. And if these were my sensations, who can describe those ofHenry? He felt as if he had been transported to Fairy-land, and enjoyeda happiness seldom tasted by man. "I have seen," he said, "the mostbeautiful scenes of my own country; I have visited the lakes of Lucerneand Uri, where the snowy mountains descend almost perpendicularly to thewater, casting black and impenetrable shades, which would cause a gloomyand mournful appearance, were it not for the most verdant islands thatrelieve the eye by their gay appearance; I have seen this lake agitatedby a tempest, when the wind tore up whirlwinds of water, and gave you anidea of what the water-spout must be on the great ocean; and the wavesdash with fury the base of the mountain, where the priest and hismistress were overwhelmed by an avalanche, and where their dying voicesare still said to be heard amid the pauses of the nightly wind; I haveseen the mountains of La Valais, and the Pays de Vaud: but this country,Victor, pleases me more than all those wonders. The mountains ofSwitzerland are more majestic and strange; but there is a charm in thebanks of this divine river, that I never before saw equalled. Look atthat castle which overhangs yon precipice; and that also on the island,almost concealed amongst the foliage of those lovely trees; and now thatgroup of labourers coming from among their vines; and that village halfhid in the recess of the mountain. Oh, surely, the spirit that inhabitsand guards this place has a soul more in harmony with man, than thosewho pile the glacier, or retire to the inaccessible peaks of themountains 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. Hewas a being formed in the "very poetry of nature." His wild andenthusiastic imagination was chastened by the sensibility of his heart.His soul overflowed with ardent affections, and his friendship was ofthat devoted and wondrous nature that the worldly-minded teach us tolook for only in the imagination. But even human sympathies were notsufficient 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 forever? Has this mind, so replete with ideas, imaginations fanciful andmagnificent, which formed a world, whose existence depended on the lifeof its creator;--has this mind perished? Does it now only exist in mymemory? No, it is not thus; your form so divinely wrought, and beamingwith beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits and consoles yourunhappy friend.
Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slighttribute to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart,overflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates. I willproceed with my tale.
Beyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolved topost the remainder of our way; for the wind was contrary, and the streamof the river was too gentle to aid us.
Our journey here lost the interest arising from beautiful scenery; butwe arrived in a few days at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea toEngland. It was on a clear morning, in the latter days of December, thatI first saw the white cliffs of Britain. The banks of the Thamespresented a new scene; they were flat, but fertile, and almost everytown 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 toweringabove all, and the Tower famed in English history.
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