Chapter 6
Clerval then put the following letter into my hands. It was from my own Elisha:
'My dearest Cousin,
'You have been ill, very ill, and even the constant letters of dear kind Henrietta are not sufficient to reassure me on your account. You are forbidden to write--to hold a pen; yet one word from you, dear Victoria, is necessary to calm our apprehensions. For a long time I have thought that each post would bring this line, and my persuasions have restrained my aunt from undertaking a journey to Ingolstadt. I have prevented her encountering the inconveniences and perhaps dangers of so long a journey, yet how often have I regretted not being able to perform it myself! I figure to myself that the task of attending on your sickbed has devolved on some mercenary old nurse, who could never guess your wishes nor minister to them with the care and affection of your poor cousin. Yet that is over now: Clerval writes that indeed you are getting better. I eagerly hope that you will confirm this intelligence soon in your own handwriting.
'Get well--and return to us. You will find a happy, cheerful home and friends who love you dearly. Your mother's health is vigorous, and she asks but to see you, but to be assured that you are well; and not a care will ever cloud her benevolent countenance. How pleased you would be to remark the improvement of our Ernestine! She is now sixteen and full of activity and spirit. She is desirous to be a true Swiss and to enter into foreign service, but we cannot part with her, at least until her elder sister returns to us. My aunt is not pleased with the idea of a military career in a distant country, but Ernestine never had your powers of application. She looks upon study as an odious fetter; her time is spent in the open air, climbing the hills or rowing on the lake. I fear that she will become an idler unless we yield the point and permit her to enter on the profession which she has selected.
'Little alteration, except the growth of our dear children, has taken place since you left us. The blue lake and snow-clad mountains--they never change; and I think our placid home and our contented hearts are regulated by the same immutable laws. My trifling occupations take up my time and amuse me, and I am rewarded for any exertions by seeing none but happy, kind faces around me. Since you left us, but one change has taken place in our little household. Do you remember on what occasion Justin Moritz entered our family? Probably you do not; I will relate his history, therefore in a few words. Moritz, his mother, was a widow with four children, of whom Justin was the third. This boy had always been the favourite of his mother, but through a strange perversity, his mother could not endure him, and after the death of M. Moritz, treated his very ill. My uncle observed this, and when Justin was twelve years of age, prevailed on his mother to allow his to live at our house. The republican institutions of our country have produced simpler and happier manners than those which prevail in the great monarchies that surround it. Hence there is less distinction between the several classes of its inhabitants; and the lower orders, being neither so poor nor so despised, their manners are more refined and moral. A servant in Geneva does not mean the same thing as a servant in France and England. Justin, thus received in our family, learned the duties of a servant, a condition which, in our fortunate country, does not include the idea of ignorance and a sacrifice of the dignity of a human being.
'Justin, you may remember, was a great favourite of yours; and I recollect you once remarked that if you were in an ill humour, one glance from Justin could dissipate it, for the same reason that Ariosto gives concerning the beauty of Angelica--she looked so frank-hearted and happy. My uncle conceived a great attachment for him, by which he was induced to give his an education superior to that which he had at first intended. This benefit was fully repaid; Justin was the most grateful little creature in the world: I do not mean that he made any professions I never heard one pass his lips, but you could see by his eyes that he almost adored his protectress. Although his disposition was gay and in many respects inconsiderate, yet he paid the greatest attention to every gesture of my uncle. He thought his the model of all excellence and endeavoured to imitate his phraseology and manners, so that even now he often reminds me of him.
'When my dearest uncle died every one was too much occupied in their own grief to notice poor Justin, who had attended his during his illness with the most anxious affection. Poor Justin was very ill; but other trials were reserved for him.
'One by one, his sisters and brother died; and his mother, with the exception of his neglected son, was left childless. The conscience of the man was troubled; he began to think that the deaths of his favourites was a judgement from heaven to chastise his partiality. He was a Roman Catholic; and I believe his confessor confirmed the idea which he had conceived. Accordingly, a few months after your departure for Ingolstadt, Justin was called home by his repentant mother. Poor boy! He wept when he quitted our house; he was much altered since the death of my aunt; grief had given softness and a winning mildness to his manners, which had before been remarkable for vivacity. Nor was his residence at his father's house of a nature to restore his gaiety. The poor man was very vacillating in his repentance. He sometimes begged Justin to forgive his unkindness, but much oftener accused him of having caused the deaths of his sisters and brother. Perpetual fretting at length threw Moritz into a decline, which at first increased his irritability, but he is now at peace for ever. He died on the first approach of cold weather, at the beginning of this last winter. Justin has just returned to us; and I assure you I love his tenderly. He is very clever and gentle, and extremely pretty; as I mentioned before, his mein and his expression continually remind me of my dear uncle.
'I must say also a few words to you, my dear cousin, of little darling Wilma. I wish you could see her; she is very tall of her age, with sweet laughing blue eyes, dark eyelashes, and curling hair. When she smiles, two little dimples appear on each cheek, which are rosy with health. She has already had one or two little husbands, but Louis Biron is her favourite, a pretty little boy of five years of age.
'Now, dear Victoria, I dare say you wish to be indulged in a little gossip concerning the good people of Geneva. The pretty Mister Mansfield has already received the congratulatory visits on his approaching marriage with a young Englisher, Joan Melbourne, Esq. His ugly brother, Manon, married M. Duvillard, the rich banker, last autumn. Your favourite schoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunes since the departure of Clerval from Geneva. But she has already recovered her spirits, and is reported to be on the point of marrying a lively pretty Frenchwoman, Tavernier. He is a widow, and much older than Manoir; but he is very much admired, and a favourite with everybody.
'I have written myself into better spirits, dear cousin; but my anxiety returns upon me as I conclude. Write, dearest Victoria,--one line--one word will be a blessing to us. Ten thousand thanks to Henrietta for her kindness, her affection, and her many letters; we are sincerely grateful. Adieu! my cousin; take care of your self; and, I entreat you, write!
Elisha Lavenza.
Geneva, March 18, 17--,
'Dear, dear Elisha!' I exclaimed, when I had read his letter: 'I will write instantly and relieve them from the anxiety they must feel.' I wrote, and this exertion greatly fatigued me; but my convalescence had commenced, and proceeded regularly. In another fortnight I was able to leave my chamber.
One of my first duties on my recovery was to introduce Clerval to the several professors of the university. In doing this, I underwent a kind of rough usage, ill befitting the wounds that my mind had sustained. Ever since the fatal night, the end of my labours, and the beginning of my misfortunes, I had conceived a violent antipathy even to the name of natural philosophy. When I was otherwise quite restored to health, the sight of a chemical instrument would renew all the agony of my nervous symptoms. Henrietta saw this, and had removed all my apparatus from my view. She had also changed my apartment; for she perceived that I had acquired a dislike for the room which had previously been my laboratory. But these cares of Clerval were made of no avail when I visit
ed the professors. M. Waldman inflicted torture when she praised, with kindness and warmth, the astonishing progress I had made in the sciences. She soon perceived that I disliked the subject; but not guessing the real cause, she attributed my feelings to modesty, and changed the subject from my improvement, to the science itself, with a desire, as I evidently saw, of drawing me out. What could I do? She meant to please, and she tormented me. I felt as if she had placed carefully, one by one, in my five * those instruments which were to be afterwards used in putting me to a slow and cruel death. I writhed under her words, yet dared not exhibit the pain I felt. Clerval, whose eyes and feelings were always quick in discerning the sensations of others, declined the subject, alleging, in excuse, her total ignorance; and the conversation took a more general turn. I thanked my friend from my heart, but I did not speak. I saw plainly that she was surprised, but she never attempted to draw my secret from me; and although I loved her with a mixture of affection and reverence that knew no bounds, yet I could never persuade myself to confide in her that event which was so often present to my recollection, but which I feared the detail to another would only impress more deeply.
M. Krempe was not equally docile; and in my condition at that time, of almost insupportable sensitiveness, her harsh blunt encomiums gave me even more pain than the benevolent approbation of M. Waldman. 'D--n the fellow!' cried she; 'why, M. Clerval, I assure you she has outstript us all. Ay, stare if you please; but it is nevertheless true. A youngster who, but a few years ago, believed in Cornelius Agrippa as firmly as in the gospel, has now set herself at the head of the university; and if she is not soon pulled down, we shall all be out of countenance.--Ay, ay,' continued she, observing my face expressive of suffering, 'M. Frankenstein is modest; an excellent quality in a young woman. Young women should be diffident of themselves, you know, M. Clerval: I was myself when young; but that wears out in a very short time.'
M. Krempe had now commenced an eulogy on herself, which happily turned the conversation from a subject that was so annoying to me.
Clerval had never sympathized in my tastes for natural science; and her literary pursuits differed wholly from those which had occupied me. She came to the university with the design of making herself complete mistress of the oriental languages, and thus she should open a field for the plan of life she had marked out for herself. Resolved to pursue no inglorious career, she turned her eyes toward the East, as affording scope for her spirit of enterprise. The Persian, Arabic, and Sanscrit languages engaged her attention, and I was easily induced to enter on the same studies. Idleness had ever been irksome to me, and now that I wished to fly from reflection, and hated my former studies, I felt great relief in being the fellow-pupil with my friend, and found not only instruction but consolation in the works of the orientalists. I did not, like her, attempt a critical knowledge of their dialects, for I did not contemplate making any other use of them than temporary amusement. I read merely to understand their meaning, and they well repaid my labours. Their melancholy is soothing, and their joy elevating, to a degree I never experienced in studying the authors of any other country. When you read their writings, life appears to consist in a warm sun and a garden of roses,--in the smiles and frowns of a fair enemy, and the fire that consumes your own heart. How different from the manly and heroical poetry of Greece and Rome!
Summer passed away in these occupations, and my return to Geneva was fixed for the latter end of autumn; but being delayed by several accidents, winter and snow arrived, the roads were deemed impassable, and my journey was retarded until the ensuing spring. I felt this delay very bitterly; for I longed to see my native town and my beloved friends. My return had only been delayed so long, from an unwillingness to leave Clerval in a strange place, before she had become acquainted with any of its inhabitants. The winter, however, was spent cheerfully; and although the spring was uncommonly late, when it came its beauty compensated for its dilatoriness.
The month of May had already commenced, and I expected the letter daily which was to fix the date of my departure, when Henrietta proposed a pedestrian tour in the environs of Ingolstadt, that I might bid a personal farewell to the country I had so long inhabited. I acceded with pleasure to this proposition: I was fond of exercise, and Clerval had always been my favourite companion in the ramble of this nature that I had taken among the scenes of my native country.
We passed a fortnight in these perambulations: my health and spirits had long been restored, and they gained additional strength from the salubrious air I breathed, the natural incidents of our progress, and the conversation of my friend. Study had before secluded me from the intercourse of my fellow- creatures, and rendered me unsocial; but Clerval called forth the better feelings of my heart; she again taught me to love the aspect of nature, and the cheerful faces of children. Excellent friend! how sincerely you did love me, and endeavour to elevate my mind until it was on a level with your own. A selfish pursuit had cramped and narrowed me, until your gentleness and affection warmed and opened my senses; I became the same happy creature who, a few years ago, loved and beloved by all, had no sorrow or care. When happy, inanimate nature had the power of bestowing on me the most delightful sensations. A serene sky and verdant fields filled me with ecstasy. The present season was indeed divine; the flowers of spring bloomed in the hedges, while those of summer were already in bud. I was undisturbed by thoughts which during the preceding year had pressed upon me, notwithstanding my endeavours to throw them off, with an invincible burden.
Henrietta rejoiced in my gaiety, and sincerely sympathised in my feelings: she exerted herself to amuse me, while she expressed the sensations that filled her soul. The resources of her mind on this occasion were truly astonishing: her conversation was full of imagination; and very often, in imitation of the Persian and Arabic writers, she invented tales of wonderful fancy and passion. At other times she repeated my favourite poems, or drew me out into arguments, which she supported with great ingenuity. We returned to our college on a Sunday afternoon: the peasants were dancing, and every one we met appeared gay and happy. My own spirits were high, and I bounded along with feelings of unbridled joy and hilarity.