Your favourite
schoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunes since the
departure of Clerval from Geneva. But he has already recovered his
spirits, and is reported to be on the point of marrying a very lively
pretty Frenchwoman, Madame Tavernier. She is a widow, and much older
than Manoir; but she is very much admired, and a favourite with every
body. “I have written myself into good spirits, dear cousin; yet I cannot
conclude without again anxiously inquiring concerning your health. Dear
Victor, if you are not very ill, write yourself, and make your father
and all of us happy; or——I cannot bear to think of the other side of
the question; my tears already flow. Adieu, my dearest cousin.”

“ELIZABETH LAVENZA. “Geneva, March 18th, 17—.”

       *       *       *       *       *

“Dear, dear Elizabeth!” I exclaimed when I had read her 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. 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 a
dislike for the room which had previously been my laboratory. But these
cares of Clerval were made of no avail when I visited the professors. M.
Waldman inflicted torture when he praised, with kindness and warmth, the
astonishing progress I had made in the sciences. He soon perceived that
I disliked the subject; but, not guessing the real cause, he 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? He meant to please, and he tormented me. I felt as
if he had placed carefully, one by one, in my view those instruments
which were to be afterwards used in putting me to a slow and cruel
death. I writhed under his 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, his
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
he was surprised, but he never attempted to draw my secret from me; and
although I loved him with a mixture of affection and reverence that knew
no bounds, yet I could never persuade myself to confide to him 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, his harsh blunt encomiums gave me
even more pain than the benevolent approbation of M. Waldman. “D—n the
fellow!” cried he; “why, M. Clerval, I assure you he has outstript us
all. Aye, stare if you please; but it is nevertheless true. A youngster
who, but a few years ago, believed Cornelius Agrippa as firmly as the
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 countenance.—Aye, aye,”
continued he, observing my face expressive of suffering, “M. Frankenstein is modest; an excellent quality in a young man. Young men
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 himself, which happily turned
the conversation from a subject that was so annoying to me. Clerval was no natural philosopher. His imagination was too vivid for
the minutiæ of science. Languages were his principal study; and he
sought, by acquiring their elements, to open a field for
self-instruction on his return to Geneva. Persian, Arabic, and Hebrew,
gained his attention, after he had made himself perfectly master of
Greek and Latin. For my own part, 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. 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
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 he 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 Henry 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 rambles 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; he again taught me
to love the aspect of nature, and the cheerful faces of children. Excellent friend! how sincerely did you love me, and endeavour to
elevate my mind, until it was on a level with your own.