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. CHAPTER II. London was our present point of rest; we determined to remain several
months in this wonderful and celebrated city. Clerval desired the
intercourse of the men of genius and talent who flourished at this time;
but this was with me a secondary object; I was principally occupied with
the means of obtaining the information necessary for the completion of
my promise, and quickly availed myself of the letters of introduction
that I had brought with me, addressed to the most distinguished natural
philosophers. If this journey had taken place during my days of study and happiness,
it would have afforded me inexpressible pleasure. But a blight had come
over my existence, and I only visited these people for the sake of the
information they might give me on the subject in which my interest was
so terribly profound. Company was irksome to me; when alone, I could
fill my mind with the sights of heaven and earth; the voice of Henry
soothed me, and I could thus cheat myself into a transitory peace. But
busy uninteresting joyous faces brought back despair to my heart. I saw
an insurmountable barrier placed between me and my fellow-men; this
barrier was sealed with the blood of William and Justine; and to reflect
on the events connected with those names filled my soul with anguish. But in Clerval I saw the image of my former self; he was inquisitive,
and anxious to gain experience and instruction. The difference of
manners which he observed was to him an inexhaustible source of
instruction and amusement. He was for ever busy; and the only check to
his enjoyments was my sorrowful and dejected mien. I tried to conceal
this as much as possible, that I might not debar him from the pleasures
natural to one who was entering on a new scene of life, undisturbed by
any care or bitter recollection. I often refused to accompany him,
alleging another engagement, that I might remain alone. I now also began
to collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and this was to
me like the torture of single drops of water continually falling on the
head. Every thought that was devoted to it was an extreme anguish, and
every word that I spoke in allusion to it caused my lips to quiver, and
my heart to palpitate. After passing some months in London, we received a letter from a person
in Scotland, who had formerly been our visitor at Geneva. He mentioned
the beauties of his native country, and asked us if those were not
sufficient allurements to induce us to prolong our journey as far north
as Perth, where he resided. Clerval eagerly desired to accept this
invitation; and I, although I abhorred society, wished to view again
mountains and streams, and all the wondrous works with which Nature
adorns her chosen dwelling-places. We had arrived in England at the beginning of October, and it was now
February. We accordingly determined to commence our journey towards the
north at the expiration of another month. In this expedition we did not
intend to follow the great road to Edinburgh, but to visit Windsor,
Oxford, Matlock, and the Cumberland lakes, resolving to arrive at the
completion of this tour about the end of July. I packed my chemical
instruments, and the materials I had collected, resolving to finish my
labours in some obscure nook in the northern highlands of Scotland. We quitted London on the 27th of March, and remained a few days at
Windsor, rambling in its beautiful forest. This was a new scene to us
mountaineers; the majestic oaks, the quantity of game, and the herds of
stately deer, were all novelties to us. From thence we proceeded to Oxford. As we entered this city, our minds
were filled with the remembrance of the events that had been transacted
there more than a century and a half before. It was here that Charles I.
had collected his forces. This city had remained faithful to him, after
the whole nation had forsaken his cause to join the standard of
parliament and liberty. The memory of that unfortunate king, and his
companions, the amiable Falkland, the insolent Gower, his queen, and
son, gave a peculiar interest to every part of the city, which they
might be supposed to have inhabited. The spirit of elder days found a
dwelling here, and we delighted to trace its footsteps. If these
feelings had not found an imaginary gratification, the appearance of the
city had yet in itself sufficient beauty to obtain our admiration. The
colleges are ancient and picturesque; the streets are almost
magnificent; and the lovely Isis, which flows beside it through meadows
of exquisite verdure, is spread forth into a placid expanse of waters,
which reflects its majestic assemblage of towers, and spires, and domes,
embosomed among aged trees. I enjoyed this scene; and yet my enjoyment was embittered both by the
memory of the past, and the anticipation of the future. I was formed for
peaceful happiness. During my youthful days discontent never visited my
mind; and if I was ever overcome by _ennui_, the sight of what is
beautiful in nature, or the study of what is excellent and sublime in
the productions of man, could always interest my heart, and communicate
elasticity to my spirits. But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered
my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit, what I shall
soon cease to be—a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to
others, and abhorrent to myself. We passed a considerable period at Oxford, rambling among its environs,
and endeavouring to identify every spot which might relate to the most
animating epoch of English history.