Chapter 2

We were brought up together; there was not quite a year difference in our ages. I need not say that we were strangers to any species of disunion or dispute. Harmony was the soul of our companionship, and the diversity and contrast that subsisted in our characters drew us nearer together. Elizabeth was of a calmer and more concentrated disposition; but, with all my ardour, I was capable of a more intense application and was more deeply smitten with the thirst for knowledge. She busied herself with following the aerial creations of the poets; and in the majestic and wondrous scenes which surrounded our Swiss home —the sublime shapes of the mountains, the changes of the seasons, tempest and calm, the silence of winter, and the life and turbulence of our Alpine summers—she found ample scope for admiration and delight. While my companion contemplated with a serious and satisfied spirit the magnificent appearances of things, I delighted in investigating their causes. The world was to me a secret which I desired to divine. Curiosity, earnest research to learn the hidden laws of nature, gladness akin to rapture, as they were unfolded to me, are among the earliest sensations I can remember.

We grew up together, less than a year apart in age. I hardly need to say that we never quarreled or disagreed. Harmony was at the heart of our friendship, and our different, contrasting characters drew us closer together. Elizabeth was calmer and more focused. But despite all my passion, I could apply myself more intensely, and my thirst for knowledge was stronger. She occupied herself with the airy creations of poets. The majestic and marvelous scenery around our Swiss home gave her plenty to admire and enjoy. There were the magnificent shapes of the mountains, the changing seasons, storms and calm, the silence of winter, and the life and turbulence of our Alpine summers. My companion contemplated these magnificent sights with a serious and contented spirit. I, on the other hand, delighted in investigating their causes. To me, the world was a secret I longed to uncover. Some of my earliest memories are of curiosity and eager efforts to learn nature’s hidden laws. I also remember the joy, almost like rapture, I felt as those laws were revealed to me.

On the birth of a second son, my junior by seven years, my parents gave up entirely their wandering life and fixed themselves in their native country. We possessed a house in Geneva, and a campagne on Belrive, the eastern shore of the lake, at the distance of rather more than a league from the city. We resided principally in the latter, and the lives of my parents were passed in considerable seclusion. It was my temper to avoid a crowd and to attach myself fervently to a few. I was indifferent, therefore, to my school-fellows in general; but I united myself in the bonds of the closest friendship to one among them. Henry Clerval was the son of a merchant of Geneva. He was a boy of singular talent and fancy. He loved enterprise, hardship, and even danger for its own sake. He was deeply read in books of chivalry and romance. He composed heroic songs and began to write many a tale of enchantment and knightly adventure. He tried to make us act plays and to enter into masquerades, in which the characters were drawn from the heroes of Roncesvalles, of the Round Table of King Arthur, and the chivalrous train who shed their blood to redeem the holy sepulchre from the hands of the infidels.

When my second brother was born, seven years after me, my parents gave up their wandering life entirely. They settled in their native country. We had a house in Geneva and a country house on Belrive, the eastern shore of the lake. It was a little more than a league from the city. We lived mostly at the country house, and my parents led a fairly secluded life. I tended to avoid crowds and grow deeply attached to a few people. So I was generally indifferent to my schoolmates, but I formed a very close friendship with one of them. Henry Clerval was the son of a merchant of Geneva. He was a boy of unusual talent and imagination. He loved adventure, hardship, and even danger for their own sake. He had read widely in tales of chivalry and romance. He wrote heroic songs and began many tales of magic and knightly adventure. He tried to persuade us to act in plays and take part in masquerades. Our characters came from the heroes of Roncesvalles, King Arthur's Round Table, and the knights who shed their blood to win back the holy sepulchre from the infidels.

No human being could have passed a happier childhood than myself. My parents were possessed by the very spirit of kindness and indulgence. We felt that they were not the tyrants to rule our lot according to their caprice, but the agents and creators of all the many delights which we enjoyed. When I mingled with other families I distinctly discerned how peculiarly fortunate my lot was, and gratitude assisted the development of filial love.

No one could have had a happier childhood than mine. My parents were full of kindness and generosity. We felt they were not tyrants who ruled our lives on a whim. Instead, they were the source and creators of all the many pleasures we enjoyed. When I spent time with other families, I saw clearly how unusually fortunate I was. My gratitude helped my love for my parents grow.

My temper was sometimes violent, and my passions vehement; but by some law in my temperature they were turned not towards childish pursuits but to an eager desire to learn, and not to learn all things indiscriminately. I confess that neither the structure of languages, nor the code of governments, nor the politics of various states possessed attractions for me. It was the secrets of heaven and earth that I desired to learn; and whether it was the outward substance of things or the inner spirit of nature and the mysterious soul of man that occupied me, still my inquiries were directed to the metaphysical, or in its highest sense, the physical secrets of the world.

My temper was sometimes violent, and my passions were intense. But something in my nature directed them away from childish pursuits and toward an eager desire to learn. I did not want to learn everything indiscriminately. I confess that neither the structure of languages, the laws of governments, nor the politics of different states interested me. I wanted to learn the secrets of heaven and earth. Sometimes I studied the outward substance of things. At other times, I studied the inner spirit of nature and the mysterious soul of man. But my inquiries were always directed toward the metaphysical secrets of the world, or its physical secrets in the highest sense.

Meanwhile Clerval occupied himself, so to speak, with the moral relations of things. The busy stage of life, the virtues of heroes, and the actions of men were his theme; and his hope and his dream was to become one among those whose names are recorded in story as the gallant and adventurous benefactors of our species. The saintly soul of Elizabeth shone like a shrine-dedicated lamp in our peaceful home. Her sympathy was ours; her smile, her soft voice, the sweet glance of her celestial eyes, were ever there to bless and animate us. She was the living spirit of love to soften and attract; I might have become sullen in my study, rough through the ardour of my nature, but that she was there to subdue me to a semblance of her own gentleness. And Clerval—could aught ill entrench on the noble spirit of Clerval? Yet he might not have been so perfectly humane, so thoughtful in his generosity, so full of kindness and tenderness amidst his passion for adventurous exploit, had she not unfolded to him the real loveliness of beneficence and made the doing good the end and aim of his soaring ambition.

Meanwhile, Clerval occupied himself, so to speak, with the moral side of things. He was interested in the bustle of life, the virtues of heroes, and the actions of people. He hoped and dreamed of joining those remembered in stories as brave, adventurous benefactors of humanity. Elizabeth’s saintly soul shone in our peaceful home like a lamp dedicated to a shrine. We shared in her sympathy. Her smile, her soft voice, and the sweet glance of her heavenly eyes were always there to bless and enliven us. She was love itself, a living spirit who softened and drew people to her. I might have become sullen in my studies and rough because of my passionate nature. But she was there to temper me and make me somewhat like her in gentleness. And Clerval. Could anything bad take hold of Clerval’s noble spirit? Yet even with his passion for adventure, he was humane, thoughtful in his generosity, and full of kindness and tenderness. He might not have been so perfectly all these things without Elizabeth. She showed him the true beauty of doing good and made it the goal of his soaring ambition.

I feel exquisite pleasure in dwelling on the recollections of childhood, before misfortune had tainted my mind and changed its bright visions of extensive usefulness into gloomy and narrow reflections upon self. Besides, in drawing the picture of my early days, I also record those events which led, by insensible steps, to my after tale of misery, for when I would account to myself for the birth of that passion which afterwards ruled my destiny I find it arise, like a mountain river, from ignoble and almost forgotten sources; but, swelling as it proceeded, it became the torrent which, in its course, has swept away all my hopes and joys.

I take great pleasure in remembering my childhood, before misfortune darkened my mind. Back then, I had bright visions of being useful to many people. Misfortune changed those visions into gloomy, narrow thoughts about myself. As I describe my early days, I also record the events that gradually led to my later misery. For when I try to understand how the passion that later ruled my destiny began, I find humble, almost forgotten sources. Like a mountain river, it grew as it flowed. It became a torrent that swept away all my hopes and joys.

Natural philosophy is the genius that has regulated my fate; I desire, therefore, in this narration, to state those facts which led to my predilection for that science. When I was thirteen years of age we all went on a party of pleasure to the baths near Thonon; the inclemency of the weather obliged us to remain a day confined to the inn. In this house I chanced to find a volume of the works of Cornelius Agrippa. I opened it with apathy; the theory which he attempts to demonstrate and the wonderful facts which he relates soon changed this feeling into enthusiasm. A new light seemed to dawn upon my mind, and bounding with joy, I communicated my discovery to my father. My father looked carelessly at the title page of my book and said, “Ah! Cornelius Agrippa! My dear Victor, do not waste your time upon this; it is sad trash.”

Natural philosophy is the guiding spirit that has shaped my fate. So I want to explain what led me to favor that science. When I was thirteen, we all went on a pleasure trip to the baths near Thonon. Bad weather forced us to stay at the inn for a day. There, I happened to find a book of Cornelius Agrippa’s works. I opened it without much interest. But the theory he tried to prove and the wonderful facts he described soon filled me with enthusiasm. A new light seemed to dawn in my mind. Thrilled with joy, I told my father about my discovery. He glanced at the title page and said, “Ah! Cornelius Agrippa! My dear Victor, do not waste your time on this. It is dreadful nonsense.”

If, instead of this remark, my father had taken the pains to explain to me that the principles of Agrippa had been entirely exploded and that a modern system of science had been introduced which possessed much greater powers than the ancient, because the powers of the latter were chimerical, while those of the former were real and practical, under such circumstances I should certainly have thrown Agrippa aside and have contented my imagination, warmed as it was, by returning with greater ardour to my former studies. It is even possible that the train of my ideas would never have received the fatal impulse that led to my ruin. But the cursory glance my father had taken of my volume by no means assured me that he was acquainted with its contents, and I continued to read with the greatest avidity.

If, instead of making this remark, my father had taken the trouble to explain that Agrippa’s principles had been completely disproved, things might have been different. He could have explained that a modern system of science had replaced them, with far greater powers than the old system. The powers of the old system were imaginary, while those of the modern one were real and practical. If he had explained all this, I would certainly have put Agrippa aside. Though my imagination had been stirred, I would have satisfied it by returning to my earlier studies with greater enthusiasm. It is even possible that my thoughts would never have taken the fatal turn that led to my ruin. But my father had only glanced at the book, so I had no reason to believe he knew what it contained. I continued to read it eagerly.

When I returned home my first care was to procure the whole works of this author, and afterwards of Paracelsus and Albertus Magnus. I read and studied the wild fancies of these writers with delight; they appeared to me treasures known to few besides myself. I have described myself as always having been imbued with a fervent longing to penetrate the secrets of nature. In spite of the intense labour and wonderful discoveries of modern philosophers, I always came from my studies discontented and unsatisfied. Sir Isaac Newton is said to have avowed that he felt like a child picking up shells beside the great and unexplored ocean of truth. Those of his successors in each branch of natural philosophy with whom I was acquainted appeared even to my boy’s apprehensions as tyros engaged in the same pursuit.

When I returned home, my first concern was to obtain all the works of this author. Afterward, I obtained those of Paracelsus and Albertus Magnus. I read and studied the wild ideas of these writers with delight. They seemed to me like treasures known to few besides myself. I have described how I had always longed to uncover the secrets of nature. Modern philosophers had worked intensely and made wonderful discoveries. Yet I always came away from my studies discontented and unsatisfied. Sir Isaac Newton is said to have declared that he felt like a child picking up shells beside the vast, unexplored ocean of truth. Even to my boyish understanding, the successors of Newton whose work I knew seemed like beginners in the same pursuit. They seemed so in every branch of natural philosophy.

The untaught peasant beheld the elements around him and was acquainted with their practical uses. The most learned philosopher knew little more. He had partially unveiled the face of Nature, but her immortal lineaments were still a wonder and a mystery. He might dissect, anatomise, and give names; but, not to speak of a final cause, causes in their secondary and tertiary grades were utterly unknown to him. I had gazed upon the fortifications and impediments that seemed to keep human beings from entering the citadel of nature, and rashly and ignorantly I had repined.

An uneducated peasant saw the elements around him and knew their practical uses. The most learned philosopher knew little more. He had partly uncovered the face of Nature, but her timeless features were still a wonder and a mystery. He could dissect, study anatomy, and give names to things. But even leaving aside the ultimate cause, secondary and tertiary causes were completely unknown to him. I had looked at the defenses and barriers that seemed to keep human beings out of nature’s stronghold. Rashly and in ignorance, I had resented them.

But here were books, and here were men who had penetrated deeper and knew more. I took their word for all that they averred, and I became their disciple. It may appear strange that such should arise in the eighteenth century; but while I followed the routine of education in the schools of Geneva, I was, to a great degree, self-taught with regard to my favourite studies. My father was not scientific, and I was left to struggle with a child’s blindness, added to a student’s thirst for knowledge. Under the guidance of my new preceptors I entered with the greatest diligence into the search of the philosopher’s stone and the elixir of life; but the latter soon obtained my undivided attention. Wealth was an inferior object, but what glory would attend the discovery if I could banish disease from the human frame and render man invulnerable to any but a violent death!

But here were books written by men who had explored deeper and knew more. I believed everything they claimed and became their disciple. It may seem strange that this could happen in the eighteenth century. But although I followed the usual course of education in the schools of Geneva, I was largely self-taught in my favorite subjects. My father knew nothing about science. I was left to struggle with a child’s lack of understanding and a student’s thirst for knowledge. Guided by my new teachers, I devoted myself to searching for the philosopher’s stone and the elixir of life. But the elixir soon took all my attention. Wealth mattered less to me. What glory would come from discovering how to banish disease from the human body and make people immune to all but violent death!

Nor were these my only visions. The raising of ghosts or devils was a promise liberally accorded by my favourite authors, the fulfilment of which I most eagerly sought; and if my incantations were always unsuccessful, I attributed the failure rather to my own inexperience and mistake than to a want of skill or fidelity in my instructors. And thus for a time I was occupied by exploded systems, mingling, like an unadept, a thousand contradictory theories and floundering desperately in a very slough of multifarious knowledge, guided by an ardent imagination and childish reasoning, till an accident again changed the current of my ideas.

These were not my only visions. My favorite authors freely promised that ghosts or devils could be summoned, and I eagerly sought to summon them. Although my spells always failed, I blamed my own inexperience and mistakes rather than any lack of skill or honesty in my teachers. So, for a time, I studied theories that had been disproved. Like a novice, I mixed a thousand contradictory theories and struggled desperately in a swamp of varied knowledge. I was guided by a passionate imagination and childish reasoning, until an accident once again changed the direction of my thoughts.

When I was about fifteen years old we had retired to our house near Belrive, when we witnessed a most violent and terrible thunderstorm. It advanced from behind the mountains of Jura, and the thunder burst at once with frightful loudness from various quarters of the heavens. I remained, while the storm lasted, watching its progress with curiosity and delight. As I stood at the door, on a sudden I beheld a stream of fire issue from an old and beautiful oak which stood about twenty yards from our house; and so soon as the dazzling light vanished, the oak had disappeared, and nothing remained but a blasted stump. When we visited it the next morning, we found the tree shattered in a singular manner. It was not splintered by the shock, but entirely reduced to thin ribbons of wood. I never beheld anything so utterly destroyed.

When I was about fifteen, we had gone to our house near Belrive when we witnessed a violent and terrifying thunderstorm. It came from behind the Jura mountains, and thunder suddenly burst from several parts of the sky with a frightening roar. Throughout the storm, I watched its progress with curiosity and delight. As I stood at the door, I suddenly saw a stream of fire come from an old, beautiful oak tree. It stood about twenty yards from our house. As soon as the dazzling light vanished, the oak was gone, and only a blasted stump remained. When we visited it the next morning, we found that the tree had been shattered in a strange way. The shock had not splintered it, but had reduced it entirely to thin ribbons of wood. I had never seen anything so completely destroyed.

Before this I was not unacquainted with the more obvious laws of electricity. On this occasion a man of great research in natural philosophy was with us, and excited by this catastrophe, he entered on the explanation of a theory which he had formed on the subject of electricity and galvanism, which was at once new and astonishing to me. All that he said threw greatly into the shade Cornelius Agrippa, Albertus Magnus, and Paracelsus, the lords of my imagination; but by some fatality the overthrow of these men disinclined me to pursue my accustomed studies. It seemed to me as if nothing would or could ever be known. All that had so long engaged my attention suddenly grew despicable. By one of those caprices of the mind which we are perhaps most subject to in early youth, I at once gave up my former occupations, set down natural history and all its progeny as a deformed and abortive creation, and entertained the greatest disdain for a would-be science which could never even step within the threshold of real knowledge. In this mood of mind I betook myself to the mathematics and the branches of study appertaining to that science as being built upon secure foundations, and so worthy of my consideration.

Before this, I already knew something about the basic laws of electricity. A man who had done extensive research in natural philosophy was with us at the time. Stirred by this catastrophe, he explained a theory he had formed about electricity and galvanism. It was both new and astonishing to me. Everything he said overshadowed Cornelius Agrippa, Albertus Magnus, and Paracelsus, who had ruled my imagination. But by some cruel twist of fate, the downfall of these men made me unwilling to continue my usual studies. It seemed to me as if nothing would or could ever be known. Everything that had held my attention for so long suddenly seemed worthless. The mind is perhaps especially prone to sudden changes in early youth. In one such change, I immediately gave up my former pursuits. I dismissed natural history and everything that came from it as a deformed and failed creation. I felt the greatest contempt for a supposed science that could never even reach the threshold of real knowledge. In this frame of mind, I turned to mathematics and related subjects. They were built on solid foundations and were therefore worthy of my attention.

Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by such slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity or ruin. When I look back, it seems to me as if this almost miraculous change of inclination and will was the immediate suggestion of the guardian angel of my life—the last effort made by the spirit of preservation to avert the storm that was even then hanging in the stars and ready to envelop me. Her victory was announced by an unusual tranquillity and gladness of soul which followed the relinquishing of my ancient and latterly tormenting studies. It was thus that I was to be taught to associate evil with their prosecution, happiness with their disregard.

Our souls are strangely made, and only the slightest threads bind us to success or ruin. Looking back, I feel as if my guardian angel had inspired this almost miraculous change in my interests and desires. It seemed the spirit of self-preservation had made one last effort to turn aside the storm. Even then, the storm hung in the stars, ready to engulf me. I knew she had won because I felt unusually peaceful and glad after giving up my old studies. Lately, those studies had tormented me. In this way, I was to learn to associate pursuing them with evil and putting them aside with happiness.

It was a strong effort of the spirit of good, but it was ineffectual. Destiny was too potent, and her immutable laws had decreed my utter and terrible destruction.

It was a powerful effort by the spirit of good, but it failed. Destiny was too powerful. Her unchanging laws had decreed my complete and terrible destruction.