Chapter Text
The journey to Ingolstadt from Geneva was long, though I had managed to write a series of poems on the coach rides that had swept me away from the mountainous Swiss lands. It was a lonely ride, and it would be dishonest if I were to say that I hadn't been thinking of my dear friend all throughout the sounding hooves in the tranquil air. Leaving Switzerland was not an easy endeavour, and a multitude of obstacles had deterred me from undertaking the voyage. Father had found it such an incredulous idea, and the prospect of attending university with Victor even more so. I had done many a-convincing, so much that I had even halted my literary pages in exchange for mathematical and scientific texts. Oh, I weeped for many days! I could not understand the language (if it were of any human’s) that was written on every turn of papyrus. I was hopeless in learning without Victor’s assistance! Nevertheless, I persevered through the volumes piled up on the shelves in our home, only barely, and even in the present time I consider such knowledge to be highly esoteric. Even after all those nightmarish months of my deep study, my father still wouldn't let me attend college. I had nearly quitted in my undertaking, and I had spent days not leaving my chambers weeping for the companionship of my friend. Elizabeth and M. Frankenstein did all they could to help convince my father, but all in vain. I had sent letters and poems to Victor, but no response was returned! These violent sorrows and longing for partnership had left me feverish all the summer months. My amiable Victor’s departure for Ingolstadt had left a deep tatter in my soul, and it was only when I had nearly faced death that my father reluctantly allowed me to follow my scholar all the way to Germany.
I was resurrected that day! My pallid expression had returned to being lively, and it took mere days to prepare for the long road ahead to Ingolstadt. I hadn’t expected to receive much there, for I still needed to find lodging elsewhere, and some other errands before I was eligible to attend Ingolstadt. Regardless, I had thought everything would be fine if I met Victor there. Father would be busy these days, muttering and grumbling about to himself the things he planned to sell, or make a business of. Trifles, trifles!
Getting to Bavaria by coach is a few days’ worth of travel, and there would be stops along the way lest the horses would stubbornly halt and lay down on the road. There was nothing to be said about the inns we had stopped at; they were all comfortable places to stay in, besides the constant crickets ringing during the night, and the frequent thundering rain that plagued the foggy sky. I often looked through windows to watch as the large pillow-like gusts of vapor flitter into the night, decorably adorning with silk the glimmering stars that lie above it. From our view it seemed as though the Alpine Mountains were close enough to hold in your palm, and the towns overlaying the road adorned the feet of the mountains with shimmering lights. Frequently I imagined Victor beholding these ethereal sights, and thinking in his wonderful brain how marvelous they are. Perhaps he’d wanted to touch those stars himself as well, although by vastly different means from which I imagine myself doing. It could never be denied that Victor Frankenstein was in possession of a brilliant mind — he could write, dance, think, and read for days without end, and his loveliness was as broad as the universe. Very few could compare to his intellect and wit, and his ambition to strive for greatness. It brought me to shame! How can a man who reads Sundiata, Arabian Nights, and Mahabharata compare to a man who reads Newton, Euclid, Paracelsus, and Galileo? His dreams are far greater, far exceeding the boundaries of man, and he pushes on with great determination whilst I write poetry, read the great literary works of our time, and reflect on them in vain, for my future is ordained by my father’s mercantilism. Ah, Frankenstein, whom I love and envy most! Alas, such were my reflections on that great Alpine view. Geneva was far behind, and a new life entailed me now, for Ingolstadt is close at hand, and Victor I shall be reunited! To hear his intelligent lips utter, “Dearest Clerval,” would surely end all of my sufferings at hand and replace them with pure bliss.
I slept soundly in those nights, imagining myself in Ingolstadt, reading poems aloud to Victor as he studied natural philosophy while I, the liberal arts. Nothing could make me happier than to make his life as an academe livelier, as I had when we were children as we acted dramas of chivalric romances! Those dreams had little by little restored me to life, exciting my soul more and more over the arrival to Ingolstadt.
It was by misfortune that the last day of travel to the city was stormy, and there was no way to see through the hazy mist, not even with a lantern. Our stay at the last inn would be prolonged, and how frustrated was I! Already, I was impatient, and I couldn’t stop my anxious heart beating with the strength of a thousand marching bands at the mere thought of not seeing Victor for another day further. Confound the weather! Man’s best gift, man’s greatest enemy. The day passed as slowly as though time had been distorted by the splashing of the drops of rain, as if every dew dropping from the leaves of the lush green took hours to do so. Each tick of the clock by the inn’s lounge was felt by me as an excruciating sort of pain that hurt the soul, more than it already is out of long, long seasons of separation.
The next day was sunny, and that affected my mood most positively! There were but a few hours left before we arrived in Ingolstadt, my holy grail, my fountain of youth! I wasted not a moment further, getting into the coach by the early noon and having the driver take me all the way to Ingolstadt. I couldn’t stop myself talking to my most agreeable driver of my excitement and thrill at finally seeing my most cherished friend after a long while, to which he’d nodded and muttered a few noises of acknowledgement. A-many few hours later, the sun had already begun to set, cloaking all the world with a sublime gradient of red and orange, before the blue of twilight began to drape over us all.
We were very near Ingolstadt, when suddenly, the driver stopped — I beheld a very strange sight. A pair of bright, glowing yellow eyes was staring at us. Peculiarly, the pair of eyes belonged to a creature with an incredible height, so much that the eyes reached higher than the coach. It stared at us for a good few seconds, coaxing expressions of fear out of us. Both me and the driver were silent, curiously gazing upon this giant silhouette that blocked the view of the town behind him. Then, as though by boredom, or deeming us unworthy of prey to be devoured, the pair of eyes vanished into the void of night, and the town reappeared once again.
“They have very strange guards around Ingolstadt. Do they do it to scare visitors or what?” I asked out of utter confusion. The driver, on the other hand, stayed silent, looking just as confused, only with a faint hint of fear in his eyes. Such strange event carved its place into my heart, and, arriving in Ingolstadt, I dropped off from the coach and endeavoured to find a lodging for the night before I meet my Victor, for it would be, I think, disrespectful if I were to barge into the study hours of a brilliant scholarly man. The sky was clear, and the full moon greeted me into the city as the stars twinkled with the smile of the man who is the sole object of my coming here. Victor, if only you knew how long I’d been wishing for an opportunity such as this!
I walked the unfamiliar streets and pathways carved into the ground, and an uneasy air followed me like a wisp in the night. Every few steps I took I’d hear strange grumbling sounds, and I’d start walking a little faster, only for the sounds to echo a little quicker. Finally, I saw an inn where I could slumber. The door, however, was blocked by a tall man covered in rags, his black hair flowing with the breeze of the night, and his stature as if he was injured on his legs.
“Hello, sir. Might I inquire about your name? Are you the owner of this inn?” Upon hearing my inquiry, the tall man turned to see me, flashing his brilliant yellow eyes. I nearly stumbled backwards, and for a moment his deadpan face seemed to grin with bloodlust as if he wanted nothing more than to devour me whole!
Of course, that was rather absurd of me to think. Objectively, his face was pale and expressionless, though his lips churned in different directions as though not quite used to the feeling of movement. I thought he was a dead man, were it not for the sounds of his heavy breathing and his heart beat.
“... I don’t suppose you know the whereabouts of a man named Victor Frankenstein? He’s a very good friend of mine, you see?”
I received no response but another deadpan stare that could intimidate anybody. Were it not for my enjoyment of risks and thrills, I would already have disappeared from Ingolstadt the moment I saw him waiting by the door of the inn. Luckily, my love for my affectionate friend is greater than any fear!
The tall creature departed without a single word, and slowly I felt less fear, and more of that natural confusion which I felt inside the coach. In truth, the creature’s unique features seemed to tell me that he was born in rough conditions, and that he, like most beings of the Creator, are deserving of sympathy. I deeply regretted my impoliteness and uncompassionate behavior that evening. He was born with deformities that had caused his life to be filled with hardships, that was what I thought. Thus, I made it my objective to find him again and offer some assistance, as much as I could with the money that was given to me by my father.
I lodged in that same inn that night, and had started to write down a letter for Victor. For what reason, I do not know, for I was set to meet him tomorrow. Nevertheless, in my excitement, my hands instinctively reached for paper, pen, and envelope to write down my innermost affections for him, and the peculiar events that had occurred in the single day I arrived in his inhabited town. The letter read as follows:
“To M. Victor Frankenstein, Ingolstadt.
Ingolstadt, November 12th, 17—
“My dearest Frankenstein! I have arrived here in Ingolstadt in search of thee. You will be most surprised at the joy of finally convincing my father to let me come! I had grown feverish in waiting for you, and impatiently I travelled here to meet you once again after all the time we had been separated from each other. I shall study in the university with you, and take liberal arts classes, so that we may see each other more often than before. I hope all is well with your studies of science and matter. I do wish to see you soon, my Victor! Tomorrow, I endeavour to find out where you are, so that I may see you again. At your earliest convenience, my dearest Frankenstein! I hope that I may see you on the streets, and then you can tell me all about your achievements during the time you were gone.
“I saw the Alps without thee, my friend. Oh, if only you were there with me! I could only imagine your expression when you first beheld sublime sights such as these! Such high mountains, and on such low ground. It could make one feel simultaneously like a god and like an ant. There is no denying it, Victor! How I wish that if one day we were to return to Geneva, we’d travel together and witness such glorious sights.
“Is your town so peculiar and strange, Victor? In the night as me and my driver were entering the town, a creature so tall with brilliant yellow eyes stopped us in our tracks, and the horses froze still in front of it. It seemed to pose no danger to us, though it looked terrifying in the dark veil of shadow that clothed the night. I mean no disrespect, my dearest friend! Certainly, I’ve no doubt of your confidence and doubtlessness in choosing a lodging, and more so since M. Alphonse Frankenstein had chosen this school for thee. If you know who that man is, surely, I’d like you to inform me of his name! I had been rather impolite and disrespectful to him and would love to offer help and charity if need be.
“I have no clue as to why I write this, Victor. But I find that I am much greater in expressing my innermost emotions through words rather than through my voice. I wish not to disappoint you, and you deserve my utmost effort. I shall give this letter to thee by hand if ever we are to meet tomorrow, hopefully early in the morning, so that we may have the day for ourselves.
“God bless thee in thy endeavours, Victor! I shall see you very, very soon. That is a promise!
“Your most affectionate friend and companion,
Henry Clerval.”
Thus writing, I sealed it with wax inside an envelope, which I kept beside the table near the bed. I had laid down on the bed, looking at the window, of which the curtains finely draped fluttered with the light breeze. Tomorrow, I thought, would be the day of my great revival!