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.
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.
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.
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.
Chapter 3
Copyrights
Frankenstein from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
