Reading Help Frankenstein Ch.1-9
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 in `
` 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. 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 himself at the head of the `
` university; and if he is not soon pulled down, we shall all be out of `
` countenance.--Ay, ay," 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 had never sympathized in my tastes for natural science; and his `
` literary pursuits differed wholly from those which had occupied me. He `
` came to the university with the design of making himself complete `
` master of the oriental languages, and thus he should open a field for `
` the plan of life he had marked out for himself. Resolved to pursue no `
` inglorious career, he turned his eyes toward the East, as affording `
` scope for his spirit of enterprise. The Persian, Arabic, and Sanskrit `
` languages engaged his 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 him, 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 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 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; he 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. `
` `
` Henry rejoiced in my gaiety, and sincerely sympathised in my feelings: `
` he exerted himself to amuse me, while he expressed the sensations that `
` filled his soul. The resources of his mind on this occasion were truly `
` astonishing: his conversation was full of imagination; and very often, `
` in imitation of the Persian and Arabic writers, he invented tales of `
` wonderful fancy and passion. At other times he repeated my favourite `
` poems, or drew me out into arguments, which he 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. `
` `
` `
` Chapter 7 `
` `
` On my return, I found the following letter from my father:-- `
` `
` `
` "My dear Victor, `
` `
` "You have probably waited impatiently for a letter to fix the date of `
` your return to us; and I was at first tempted to write only a few `
` lines, merely mentioning the day on which I should expect you. But `
` that would be a cruel kindness, and I dare not do it. What would be `
` your surprise, my son, when you expected a happy and glad welcome, to `
` behold, on the contrary, tears and wretchedness? And how, Victor, can `
` I relate our misfortune? Absence cannot have rendered you callous to `
` our joys and griefs; and how shall I inflict pain on my long absent `
` son? I wish to prepare you for the woeful news, but I know it is `
` impossible; even now your eye skims over the page to seek the words `
` which are to convey to you the horrible tidings. `
` `
` "William is dead!--that sweet child, whose smiles delighted and warmed `
` my heart, who was so gentle, yet so gay! Victor, he is murdered! `
` `
` "I will not attempt to console you; but will simply relate the `
` circumstances of the transaction. `
` `
` "Last Thursday (May 7th), I, my niece, and your two brothers, went to `
` walk in Plainpalais. The evening was warm and serene, and we prolonged `
` our walk farther than usual. It was already dusk before we thought of `
` returning; and then we discovered that William and Ernest, who had gone `
` on before, were not to be found. We accordingly rested on a seat until `
` they should return. Presently Ernest came, and enquired if we had seen `
` his brother; he said, that he had been playing with him, that William `
` had run away to hide himself, and that he vainly sought for him, and `
` afterwards waited for a long time, but that he did not return. `
` `
` "This account rather alarmed us, and we continued to search for him `
` until night fell, when Elizabeth conjectured that he might have `
` returned to the house. He was not there. We returned again, with `
` torches; for I could not rest, when I thought that my sweet boy had `
` lost himself, and was exposed to all the damps and dews of night; `
` Elizabeth also suffered extreme anguish. About five in the morning I `
` discovered my lovely boy, whom the night before I had seen blooming and `
` active in health, stretched on the grass livid and motionless; the `
` print of the murder's finger was on his neck. `
` `
` "He was conveyed home, and the anguish that was visible in my `
` countenance betrayed the secret to Elizabeth. She was very earnest to `
` see the corpse. At first I attempted to prevent her but she persisted, `
` and entering the room where it lay, hastily examined the neck of the `
` victim, and clasping her hands exclaimed, `O God! I have murdered my `
` darling child!' `
` `
` "She fainted, and was restored with extreme difficulty. When she again `
` lived, it was only to weep and sigh. She told me, that that same `
` evening William had teased her to let him wear a very valuable `
` miniature that she possessed of your mother. This picture is gone, and `
` was doubtless the temptation which urged the murderer to the deed. We `
` have no trace of him at present, although our exertions to discover him `
` are unremitted; but they will not restore my beloved William! `
` `
` "Come, dearest Victor; you alone can console Elizabeth. She weeps `
` continually, and accuses herself unjustly as the cause of his death; `
` her words pierce my heart. We are all unhappy; but will not that be an `
` additional motive for you, my son, to return and be our comforter? `
` Your dear mother! Alas, Victor! I now say, Thank God she did not live `
` to witness the cruel, miserable death of her youngest darling! `
` `
` "Come, Victor; not brooding thoughts of vengeance against the assassin, `
` but with feelings of peace and gentleness, that will heal, instead of `
` festering, the wounds of our minds. Enter the house of mourning, my `
` friend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you, and not `
` with hatred for your enemies. `
` `
` `
` "Your affectionate and afflicted father, `
` `
` "Alphonse Frankenstein. `
` `
` "Geneva, May 12th, 17--." `
` `
` `
` Clerval, who had watched my countenance as I read this letter, was `
` surprised to observe the despair that succeeded the joy I at first `
` expressed on receiving new from my friends. I threw the letter on the `
` table, and covered my face with my hands. `
` `
` "My dear Frankenstein," exclaimed Henry, when he perceived me weep with `
` bitterness, "are you always to be unhappy? My dear friend, what has `
` happened?" `
`
` 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 in `
` 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. 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 himself at the head of the `
` university; and if he is not soon pulled down, we shall all be out of `
` countenance.--Ay, ay," 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 had never sympathized in my tastes for natural science; and his `
` literary pursuits differed wholly from those which had occupied me. He `
` came to the university with the design of making himself complete `
` master of the oriental languages, and thus he should open a field for `
` the plan of life he had marked out for himself. Resolved to pursue no `
` inglorious career, he turned his eyes toward the East, as affording `
` scope for his spirit of enterprise. The Persian, Arabic, and Sanskrit `
` languages engaged his 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 him, 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 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 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; he 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. `
` `
` Henry rejoiced in my gaiety, and sincerely sympathised in my feelings: `
` he exerted himself to amuse me, while he expressed the sensations that `
` filled his soul. The resources of his mind on this occasion were truly `
` astonishing: his conversation was full of imagination; and very often, `
` in imitation of the Persian and Arabic writers, he invented tales of `
` wonderful fancy and passion. At other times he repeated my favourite `
` poems, or drew me out into arguments, which he 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. `
` `
` `
` Chapter 7 `
` `
` On my return, I found the following letter from my father:-- `
` `
` `
` "My dear Victor, `
` `
` "You have probably waited impatiently for a letter to fix the date of `
` your return to us; and I was at first tempted to write only a few `
` lines, merely mentioning the day on which I should expect you. But `
` that would be a cruel kindness, and I dare not do it. What would be `
` your surprise, my son, when you expected a happy and glad welcome, to `
` behold, on the contrary, tears and wretchedness? And how, Victor, can `
` I relate our misfortune? Absence cannot have rendered you callous to `
` our joys and griefs; and how shall I inflict pain on my long absent `
` son? I wish to prepare you for the woeful news, but I know it is `
` impossible; even now your eye skims over the page to seek the words `
` which are to convey to you the horrible tidings. `
` `
` "William is dead!--that sweet child, whose smiles delighted and warmed `
` my heart, who was so gentle, yet so gay! Victor, he is murdered! `
` `
` "I will not attempt to console you; but will simply relate the `
` circumstances of the transaction. `
` `
` "Last Thursday (May 7th), I, my niece, and your two brothers, went to `
` walk in Plainpalais. The evening was warm and serene, and we prolonged `
` our walk farther than usual. It was already dusk before we thought of `
` returning; and then we discovered that William and Ernest, who had gone `
` on before, were not to be found. We accordingly rested on a seat until `
` they should return. Presently Ernest came, and enquired if we had seen `
` his brother; he said, that he had been playing with him, that William `
` had run away to hide himself, and that he vainly sought for him, and `
` afterwards waited for a long time, but that he did not return. `
` `
` "This account rather alarmed us, and we continued to search for him `
` until night fell, when Elizabeth conjectured that he might have `
` returned to the house. He was not there. We returned again, with `
` torches; for I could not rest, when I thought that my sweet boy had `
` lost himself, and was exposed to all the damps and dews of night; `
` Elizabeth also suffered extreme anguish. About five in the morning I `
` discovered my lovely boy, whom the night before I had seen blooming and `
` active in health, stretched on the grass livid and motionless; the `
` print of the murder's finger was on his neck. `
` `
` "He was conveyed home, and the anguish that was visible in my `
` countenance betrayed the secret to Elizabeth. She was very earnest to `
` see the corpse. At first I attempted to prevent her but she persisted, `
` and entering the room where it lay, hastily examined the neck of the `
` victim, and clasping her hands exclaimed, `O God! I have murdered my `
` darling child!' `
` `
` "She fainted, and was restored with extreme difficulty. When she again `
` lived, it was only to weep and sigh. She told me, that that same `
` evening William had teased her to let him wear a very valuable `
` miniature that she possessed of your mother. This picture is gone, and `
` was doubtless the temptation which urged the murderer to the deed. We `
` have no trace of him at present, although our exertions to discover him `
` are unremitted; but they will not restore my beloved William! `
` `
` "Come, dearest Victor; you alone can console Elizabeth. She weeps `
` continually, and accuses herself unjustly as the cause of his death; `
` her words pierce my heart. We are all unhappy; but will not that be an `
` additional motive for you, my son, to return and be our comforter? `
` Your dear mother! Alas, Victor! I now say, Thank God she did not live `
` to witness the cruel, miserable death of her youngest darling! `
` `
` "Come, Victor; not brooding thoughts of vengeance against the assassin, `
` but with feelings of peace and gentleness, that will heal, instead of `
` festering, the wounds of our minds. Enter the house of mourning, my `
` friend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you, and not `
` with hatred for your enemies. `
` `
` `
` "Your affectionate and afflicted father, `
` `
` "Alphonse Frankenstein. `
` `
` "Geneva, May 12th, 17--." `
` `
` `
` Clerval, who had watched my countenance as I read this letter, was `
` surprised to observe the despair that succeeded the joy I at first `
` expressed on receiving new from my friends. I threw the letter on the `
` table, and covered my face with my hands. `
` `
` "My dear Frankenstein," exclaimed Henry, when he perceived me weep with `
` bitterness, "are you always to be unhappy? My dear friend, what has `
` happened?" `
`