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1One of my first duties on my recovery was to introduce Clerval to the several professors of the university. In doing
2this, I underwent a kind of rough usage, ill befitting the wounds that my mind had sustained. Ever since the fatal
3night, the end of my labours, and the beginning of my misfortunes, I had conceived a violent antipathy even to the name
4of natural philosophy. When I was otherwise quite restored to health, the sight of a chemical instrument would renew all
5the agony of my nervous symptoms. Henry saw this, and had removed all my apparatus from my view. He had also changed my
6apartment; for he perceived that I had acquired a dislike for the room which had previously been my laboratory. But
7these cares of Clerval were made of no avail when I visited the professors. M. Waldman inflicted torture when he
8praised, with kindness and warmth, the astonishing progress I had made in the sciences. He soon perceived that I
9disliked the subject; but not guessing the real cause, he attributed my feelings to modesty, and changed the subject
10from my improvement, to the science itself, with a desire, as I evidently saw, of drawing me out. What could I do? He
11meant to please, and he tormented me. I felt as if he had placed carefully, one by one, in my view those instruments
12which were to be afterwards used in putting me to a slow and cruel death. I writhed under his words, yet dared not
13exhibit the pain I felt. Clerval, whose eyes and feelings were always quick in discerning the sensations of others,
14declined the subject, alleging, in excuse, his total ignorance; and the conversation took a more general turn. I thanked
15my friend from my heart, but I did not speak. I saw plainly that he was surprised, but he never attempted to draw my
16secret from me; and although I loved him with a mixture of affection and reverence that knew no bounds, yet I could
17never persuade myself to confide in him that event which was so often present to my recollection, but which I feared the
18detail to another would only impress more deeply. M. Krempe was not equally docile; and in my condition at that time, of
19almost insupportable sensitiveness, his harsh blunt encomiums gave me even more pain than the benevolent approbation of
20M. Waldman. "D--n the fellow!" cried he; "why, M. Clerval, I assure you he has outstript us all. Ay, stare if you
21please; but it is nevertheless true. A youngster who, but a few years ago, believed in Cornelius Agrippa as firmly as in
22the gospel, has now set himself at the head of the university; and if he is not soon pulled down, we shall all be out of
23countenance.--Ay, ay," continued he, observing my face expressive of suffering, "M. Frankenstein is modest; an excellent
24quality in a young man. Young men should be diffident of themselves, you know, M. Clerval: I was myself when young; but
25that wears out in a very short time." M. Krempe had now commenced an eulogy on himself, which happily turned the
26conversation from a subject that was so annoying to me. Clerval had never sympathised in my tastes for natural science;
27and his literary pursuits differed wholly from those which had occupied me. He came to the university with the design of
28making himself complete master of the oriental languages, and thus he should open a field for the plan of life he had
29marked out for himself. Resolved to pursue no inglorious career, he turned his eyes toward the East, as affording scope
30for his spirit of enterprise. The Persian, Arabic, and Sanskrit languages engaged his attention, and I was easily
31induced to enter on the same studies. Idleness had ever been irksome to me, and now that I wished to fly from
32reflection, and hated my former studies, I felt great relief in being the fellow-pupil with my friend, and found not
33only instruction but consolation in the works of the orientalists. I did not, like him, attempt a critical knowledge of
34their dialects, for I did not contemplate making any other use of them than temporary amusement. I read merely to
35understand their meaning, and they well repaid my labours. Their melancholy is soothing, and their joy elevating, to a
36degree I never experienced in studying the authors of any other country. When you read their writings, life appears to
37consist in a warm sun and a garden of roses,--in the smiles and frowns of a fair enemy, and the fire that consumes your
38own heart. How different from the manly and heroical poetry of Greece and Rome! Summer passed away in these occupations,
39and my return to Geneva was fixed for the latter end of autumn; but being delayed by several accidents, winter and snow
40arrived, the roads were deemed impassable, and my journey was retarded until the ensuing spring. I felt this delay very
41bitterly; for I longed to see my native town and my beloved friends. My return had only been delayed so long, from an
42unwillingness to leave Clerval in a strange place, before he had become acquainted with any of its inhabitants. The
43winter, however, was spent cheerfully; and although the spring was uncommonly late, when it came its beauty compensated
44for its dilatoriness. The month of May had already commenced, and I expected the letter daily which was to fix the date
45of my departure, when Henry proposed a pedestrian tour in the environs of Ingolstadt, that I might bid a personal
46farewell to the country I had so long inhabited. I acceded with pleasure to this proposition: I was fond of exercise,
47and Clerval had always been my favourite companion in the ramble of this nature that I had taken among the scenes of my
48native country. We passed a fortnight in these perambulations: my health and spirits had long been restored, and they
49gained additional strength from the salubrious air I breathed, the natural incidents of our progress, and the
50conversation of my friend. Study had before secluded me from the intercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me
51unsocial; but Clerval called forth the better feelings of my heart; he again taught me to love the aspect of nature, and
52the cheerful faces of children. Excellent friend! how sincerely you did love me, and endeavour to elevate my mind until
53it was on a level with your own. A selfish pursuit had cramped and narrowed me, until your gentleness and affection
54warmed and opened my senses; I became the same happy creature who, a few years ago, loved and beloved by all, had no
55sorrow or care. When happy, inanimate nature had the power of bestowing on me the most delightful sensations. A serene
56sky and verdant fields filled me with ecstasy. The present season was indeed divine; the flowers of spring bloomed in
57the hedges, while those of summer were already in bud. I was undisturbed by thoughts which during the preceding year had
58pressed upon me, notwithstanding my endeavours to throw them off, with an invincible burden. Henry rejoiced in my
59gaiety, and sincerely sympathised in my feelings: he exerted himself to amuse me, while he expressed the sensations that
60filled his soul. The resources of his mind on this occasion were truly astonishing: his conversation was full of
61imagination; and very often, in imitation of the Persian and Arabic writers, he invented tales of wonderful fancy and
62passion. At other times he repeated my favourite poems, or drew me out into arguments, which he supported with great
63ingenuity. We returned to our college on a Sunday afternoon: the peasants were dancing, and every one we met appeared
64gay and happy. My own spirits were high, and I bounded along with feelings of unbridled joy and hilarity. Chapter 7 On
65my return, I found the following letter from my father:-- "My dear Victor, "You have probably waited impatiently for a
66letter to fix the date of your return to us; and I was at first tempted to write only a few lines, merely mentioning the
67day on which I should expect you. But that would be a cruel kindness, and I dare not do it. What would be your surprise,
68my son, when you expected a happy and glad welcome, to behold, on the contrary, tears and wretchedness? And how, Victor,
69can I relate our misfortune? Absence cannot have rendered you callous to our joys and griefs; and how shall I inflict
70pain on my long absent son? I wish to prepare you for the woeful news, but I know it is impossible; even now your eye
71skims over the page to seek the words which are to convey to you the horrible tidings. "William is dead!--that sweet
72child, whose smiles delighted and warmed my heart, who was so gentle, yet so gay! Victor, he is murdered!
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