Chapter: Day after day, week after week, passed away on my return to Geneva; and
I could not collect the courage to recommence my work. I feared the
vengeance of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to overcome my
repugnance to the task which was enjoined me. I found that I could not
compose a female without again devoting several months to profound study
and laborious disquisition. I had heard of some discoveries having been
made by an English philosopher, the knowledge of which was material to
my success, and I sometimes thought of obtaining my father's consent to
visit England for this purpose; but I clung to every pretence of delay,
and could not resolve to interrupt my returning tranquillity. My health,
which had hitherto declined, was now much restored; and my spirits, when
unchecked by the memory of my unhappy promise, rose proportionably. My
father saw this change with pleasure, and he turned his thoughts towards
the best method of eradicating the remains of my melancholy, which
every now and then would return by fits, and with a devouring blackness
overcast the approaching sunshine. At these moments I took refuge in the
most perfect solitude. I passed whole days on the lake alone in a little
boat, watching the clouds, and listening to the rippling of the waves,
silent and listless. But the fresh air and bright sun seldom failed to
restore me to some degree of composure; and, on my return, I met the
salutations of my friends with a readier smile and a more cheerful
heart.

It was after my return from one of these rambles that my father, calling
me aside, thus addressed me:--

"I am happy to remark, my dear son, that you have resumed your former
pleasures, and seem to be returning to yourself. And yet you are still
unhappy, and still avoid our society. For some time I was lost in
conjecture as to the cause of this; but yesterday an idea struck me, and
if it is well founded, I conjure you to avow it. Reserve on such a point
would be not only useless, but draw down treble misery on us all."

I trembled violently at this exordium, and my father continued--

"I confess, my son, that I have always looked forward to your marriage
with your cousin as the tie of our domestic comfort, and the stay of my
declining years. You were attached to each other from your earliest
infancy; you studied together, and appeared, in dispositions and tastes,
entirely suited to one another. But so blind is the experience of man,
that what I conceived to be the best assistants to my plan may have
entirely destroyed it. You, perhaps, regard her as your sister, without
any wish that she might become your wife. Nay, you may have met with
another whom you may love; and, considering yourself as bound in honour
to your cousin, this struggle may occasion the poignant misery which you
appear to feel."

"My dear father, re-assure yourself. I love my cousin tenderly and
sincerely. I never saw any woman who excited, as Elizabeth does, my
warmest admiration and affection. My future hopes and prospects are
entirely bound up in the expectation of our union."

"The expression of your sentiments on this subject, my dear Victor,
gives me more pleasure than I have for some time experienced. If you
feel thus, we shall assuredly be happy, however present events may cast
a gloom over us. But it is this gloom, which appears to have taken so
strong a hold of your mind, that I wish to dissipate. Tell me,
therefore, whether you object to an immediate solemnization of the
marriage. We have been unfortunate, and recent events have drawn us from
that every-day tranquillity befitting my years and infirmities. You are
younger; yet I do not suppose, possessed as you are of a competent
fortune, that an early marriage would at all interfere with any future
plans of honour and utility that you may have formed. Do not suppose,
however, that I wish to dictate happiness to you, or that a delay on
your part would cause me any serious uneasiness. Interpret my words
with candour, and answer me, I conjure you, with confidence and
sincerity."

I listened to my father in silence, and remained for some time incapable
of offering any reply. I revolved rapidly in my mind a multitude of
thoughts, and endeavoured to arrive at some conclusion. Alas! to me the
idea of an immediate union with my cousin was one of horror and dismay.
I was bound by a solemn promise, which I had not yet fulfilled, and
dared not break; or, if I did, what manifold miseries might not impend
over me and my devoted family! Could I enter into a festival with this
deadly weight yet hanging round my neck, and bowing me to the ground. I
must perform my engagement, and let the monster depart with his mate,
before I allowed myself to enjoy the delight of an union from which I
expected peace.

I remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying to
England, or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophers
of that country, whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensable
use to me in my present undertaking. The latter method of obtaining the
desired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory: besides, any
variation was agreeable to me, and I was delighted with the idea of
spending a year or two in change of scene and variety of occupation, in
absence from my family; during which period some event might happen
which would restore me to them in peace and happiness: my promise might
be fulfilled, and the monster have departed; or some accident might
occur to destroy him, and put an end to my slavery for ever.

These feelings dictated my answer to my father. I expressed a wish to
visit England; but, concealing the true reasons of this request, I
clothed my desires under the guise of wishing to travel and see the
world before I sat down for life within the walls of my native town.

I urged my entreaty with earnestness, and my father was easily induced
to comply; for a more indulgent and less dictatorial parent did not
exist upon earth. Our plan was soon arranged. I should travel to
Strasburgh, where Clerval would join me. Some short time would be spent
in the towns of Holland, and our principal stay would be in England. We
should return by France; and it was agreed that the tour should occupy
the space of two years.

My father pleased himself with the reflection, that my union with
Elizabeth should take place immediately on my return to Geneva. "These
two years," said he, "will pass swiftly, and it will be the last delay
that will oppose itself to your happiness. And, indeed, I earnestly
desire that period to arrive, when we shall all be united, and neither
hopes or fears arise to disturb our domestic calm."

"I am content," I replied, "with your arrangement. By that time we shall
both have become wiser, and I hope happier, than we at present are." I
sighed; but my father kindly forbore to question me further concerning
the cause of my dejection. He hoped that new scenes, and the amusement
of travelling, would restore my tranquillity.

I now made arrangements for my journey; but one feeling haunted me,
which filled me with fear and agitation. During my absence I should
leave my friends unconscious of the existence of their enemy, and
unprotected from his attacks, exasperated as he might be by my
departure. But he had promised to follow me wherever I might go; and
would he not accompany me to England? This imagination was dreadful in
itself, but soothing, inasmuch as it supposed the safety of my friends.
I was agonized with the idea of the possibility that the reverse of this
might happen. But through the whole period during which I was the slave
of my creature, I allowed myself to be governed by the impulses of the
moment; and my present sensations strongly intimated that the fiend
would follow me, and exempt my family from the danger of his
machinations.

It was in the latter end of August that I departed, to pass two years of
exile. Elizabeth approved of the reasons of my departure, and only
regretted that she had not the same opportunities of enlarging her
experience, and cultivating her understanding. She wept, however, as she
bade me farewell, and entreated me to return happy and tranquil. "We
all," said she, "depend upon you; and if you are miserable, what must be
our feelings?"

I threw myself into the carriage that was to convey me away, hardly
knowing whither I was going, and careless of what was passing around. I
remembered only, and it was with a bitter anguish that I reflected on
it, to order that my chemical instruments should be packed to go with
me: for I resolved to fulfil my promise while abroad, and return, if
possible, a free man. Filled with dreary imaginations, I passed through
many beautiful and majestic scenes; but my eyes were fixed and
unobserving. I could only think of the bourne of my travels, and the
work which was to occupy me whilst they endured.

After some days spent in listless indolence, during which I traversed
many leagues, I arrived at Strasburgh, where I waited two days for
Clerval. He came. Alas, how great was the contrast between us! He was
alive to every new scene; joyful when he saw the beauties of the setting
sun, and more happy when he beheld it rise, and recommence a new day. He
pointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape, and the
appearances of the sky. "This is what it is to live;" he cried, "now I
enjoy existence! But you, my dear Frankenstein, wherefore are you
desponding and sorrowful?" In truth, I was occupied by gloomy thoughts,
and neither saw the descent of the evening star, nor the golden sun-rise
reflected in the Rhine.--And you, my friend, would be far more amused
with the journal of Clerval, who observed the scenery with an eye of
feeling and delight, than to listen to my reflections. I, a miserable
wretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to enjoyment.

We had agreed to descend the Rhine in a boat from Strasburgh to
Rotterdam, whence we might take shipping for London. During this voyage,
we passed by many willowy islands, and saw several beautiful towns. We
staid a day at Manheim, and, on the fifth from our departure from
Strasburgh, arrived at Mayence. The course of the Rhine below Mayence
becomes much more picturesque. The river descends rapidly, and winds
between hills, not high, but steep, and of beautiful forms. We saw many
ruined castles standing on the edges of precipices, surrounded by black
woods, high and inaccessible. This part of the Rhine, indeed, presents a
singularly variegated landscape. In one spot you view rugged hills,
ruined castles overlooking tremendous precipices, with the dark Rhine
rushing beneath; and, on the sudden turn of a promontory, flourishing
vineyards, with green sloping banks, and a meandering river, and
populous towns, occupy the scene.

We travelled at the time of the vintage, and heard the song of the
labourers, as we glided down the stream. Even I, depressed in mind, and
my spirits continually agitated by gloomy feelings, even I was pleased.
I lay at the bottom of the boat, and, as I gazed on the cloudless blue
sky, I seemed to drink in a tranquillity to which I had long been a
stranger. And if these were my sensations, who can describe those of
Henry? He felt as if he had been transported to Fairy-land, and enjoyed
a happiness seldom tasted by man. "I have seen," he said, "the most
beautiful scenes of my own country; I have visited the lakes of Lucerne
and Uri, where the snowy mountains descend almost perpendicularly to the
water, casting black and impenetrable shades, which would cause a gloomy
and mournful appearance, were it not for the most verdant islands that
relieve the eye by their gay appearance; I have seen this lake agitated
by a tempest, when the wind tore up whirlwinds of water, and gave you an
idea of what the water-spout must be on the great ocean, and the waves
dash with fury the base of the mountain, where the priest and his
mistress were overwhelmed by an avalanche, and where their dying voices
are still said to be heard amid the pauses of the nightly wind; I have
seen the mountains of La Valais, and the Pays de Vaud: but this country,
Victor, pleases me more than all those wonders. The mountains of
Switzerland are more majestic and strange; but there is a charm in the
banks of this divine river, that I never before saw equalled. Look at
that castle which overhangs yon precipice; and that also on the island,
almost concealed amongst the foliage of those lovely trees; and now that
group of labourers coming from among their vines; and that village
half-hid in the recess of the mountain. Oh, surely, the spirit that
inhabits and guards this place has a soul more in harmony with man, than
those who pile the glacier, or retire to the inaccessible peaks of the
mountains of our own country."

Clerval! beloved friend! even now it delights me to record your words,
and to dwell on the praise of which you are so eminently deserving. He
was a being formed in the "very poetry of nature." His wild and
enthusiastic imagination was chastened by the sensibility of his heart.
His soul overflowed with ardent affections, and his friendship was of
that devoted and wondrous nature that the worldly-minded teach us to
look for only in the imagination. But even human sympathies were not
sufficient to satisfy his eager mind. The scenery of external nature,
which others regard only with admiration, he loved with ardour:

    ---- ----"The sounding cataract
    Haunted _him_ like a passion: the tall rock,
    The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
    Their colours and their forms, were then to him
    An appetite; a feeling, and a love,
    That had no need of a remoter charm,
    By thought supplied, or any interest
    Unborrowed from the eye."

And where does he now exist? Is this gentle and lovely being lost for
ever? Has this mind so replete with ideas, imaginations fanciful and
magnificent, which formed a world, whose existence depended on the life
of its creator; has this mind perished? Does it now only exist in my
memory? No, it is not thus; your form so divinely wrought, and beaming
with beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits and consoles your
unhappy friend.

Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slight
tribute to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart,
overflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates. I will
proceed with my tale.

Beyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolved to
post the remainder of our way; for the wind was contrary, and the stream
of the river was too gentle to aid us.

Our journey here lost the interest arising from beautiful scenery; but
we arrived in a few days at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea to
England. It was on a clear morning, in the latter days of December, that
I first saw the white cliffs of Britain. The banks of the Thames
presented a new scene; they were flat, but fertile, and almost every
town was marked by the remembrance of some story. We saw Tilbury Fort,
and remembered the Spanish armada; Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich,
places which I had heard of even in my country.

At length we saw the numerous steeples of London, St. Paul's towering
above all, and the Tower famed in English history.





London was our present point of rest; we determined to remain several
months in this wonderful and celebrated city. Clerval desired the
intercourse of the men of genius and talent who flourished at this time;
but this was with me a secondary object; I was principally occupied with
the means of obtaining the information necessary for the completion of
my promise, and quickly availed myself of the letters of introduction
that I had brought with me, addressed to the most distinguished natural
philosophers.

If this journey had taken place during my days of study and happiness,
it would have afforded me inexpressible pleasure. But a blight had come
over my existence, and I only visited these people for the sake of the
information they might give me on the subject in which my interest was
so terribly profound. Company was irksome to me; when alone, I could
fill my mind with the sights of heaven and earth; the voice of Henry
soothed me, and I could thus cheat myself into a transitory peace. But
busy uninteresting joyous faces brought back despair to my heart. I saw
an insurmountable barrier placed between me and my fellow-men; this
barrier was sealed with the blood of William and Justine; and to reflect
on the events connected with those names filled my soul with anguish.

But in Clerval I saw the image of my former self; he was inquisitive,
and anxious to gain experience and instruction. The difference of
manners which he observed was to him an inexhaustible source of
instruction and amusement. He was for ever busy; and the only check to
his enjoyments was my sorrowful and dejected mien. I tried to conceal
this as much as possible, that I might not debar him from the pleasures
natural to one who was entering on a new scene of life, undisturbed by
any care or bitter recollection. I often refused to accompany him,
alleging another engagement, that I might remain alone. I now also began
to collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and this was to
me like the torture of single drops of water continually falling on the
head. Every thought that was devoted to it was an extreme anguish, and
every word that I spoke in allusion to it caused my lips to quiver, and
my heart to palpitate.

After passing some months in London, we received a letter from a person
in Scotland, who had formerly been our visitor at Geneva. He mentioned
the beauties of his native country, and asked us if those were not
sufficient allurements to induce us to prolong our journey as far north
as Perth, where he resided. Clerval eagerly desired to accept this
invitation; and I, although I abhorred society, wished to view again
mountains and streams, and all the wondrous works with which Nature
adorns her chosen dwelling-places.

We had arrived in England at the beginning of October, and it was now
February. We accordingly determined to commence our journey towards the
north at the expiration of another month. In this expedition we did not
intend to follow the great road to Edinburgh, but to visit Windsor,
Oxford, Matlock, and the Cumberland lakes, resolving to arrive at the
completion of this tour about the end of July. I packed my chemical
instruments, and the materials I had collected, resolving to finish my
labours in some obscure nook in the northern highlands of Scotland.

We quitted London on the 27th of March, and remained a few days at
Windsor, rambling in its beautiful forest. This was a new scene to us
mountaineers; the majestic oaks, the quantity of game, and the herds of
stately deer, were all novelties to us.

From thence we proceeded to Oxford. As we entered this city, our minds
were filled with the remembrance of the events that had been transacted
there more than a century and a half before. It was here that Charles I.
had collected his forces. This city had remained faithful to him, after
the whole nation had forsaken his cause to join the standard of
parliament and liberty. The memory of that unfortunate king, and his
companions, the amiable Falkland, the insolent Gower, his queen, and
son, gave a peculiar interest to every part of the city, which they
might be supposed to have inhabited. The spirit of elder days found a
dwelling here, and we delighted to trace its footsteps. If these
feelings had not found an imaginary gratification, the appearance of the
city had yet in itself sufficient beauty to obtain our admiration. The
colleges are ancient and picturesque; the streets are almost
magnificent; and the lovely Isis, which flows beside it through meadows
of exquisite verdure, is spread forth into a placid expanse of waters,
which reflects its majestic assemblage of towers, and spires, and domes,
embosomed among aged trees.

I enjoyed this scene; and yet my enjoyment was embittered both by the
memory of the past, and the anticipation of the future. I was formed for
peaceful happiness. During my youthful days discontent never visited my
mind; and if I was ever overcome by _ennui_, the sight of what is
beautiful in nature, or the study of what is excellent and sublime in
the productions of man, could always interest my heart, and communicate
elasticity to my spirits. But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered
my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit, what I shall
soon cease to be--a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to
others, and abhorrent to myself.

We passed a considerable period at Oxford, rambling among its environs,
and endeavouring to identify every spot which might relate to the most
animating epoch of English history. Our little voyages of discovery were
often prolonged by the successive objects that presented themselves. We
visited the tomb of the illustrious Hampden, and the field on which that
patriot fell. For a moment my soul was elevated from its debasing and
miserable fears to contemplate the divine ideas of liberty and
self-sacrifice, of which these sights were the monuments and the
remembrancers. For an instant I dared to shake off my chains, and look
around me with a free and lofty spirit; but the iron had eaten into my
flesh, and I sank again, trembling and hopeless, into my miserable self.

We left Oxford with regret, and proceeded to Matlock, which was our next
place of rest. The country in the neighbourhood of this village
resembled, to a greater degree, the scenery of Switzerland; but every
thing is on a lower scale, and the green hills want the crown of distant
white Alps, which always attend on the piny mountains of my native
country. We visited the wondrous cave, and the little cabinets of
natural history, where the curiosities are disposed in the same manner
as in the collections at Servox and Chamounix. The latter name made me
tremble, when pronounced by Henry; and I hastened to quit Matlock, with
which that terrible scene was thus associated.

From Derby still journeying northward, we passed two months in
Cumberland and Westmoreland. I could now almost fancy myself among the
Swiss mountains. The little patches of snow which yet lingered on the
northern sides of the mountains, the lakes, and the dashing of the rocky
streams, were all familiar and dear sights to me. Here also we made some
acquaintances, who almost contrived to cheat me into happiness. The
delight of Clerval was proportionably greater than mine; his mind
expanded in the company of men of talent, and he found in his own nature
greater capacities and resources than he could have imagined himself to
have possessed while he associated with his inferiors. "I could pass my
life here," said he to me; "and among these mountains I should scarcely
regret Switzerland and the Rhine."

But he found that a traveller's life is one that includes much pain
amidst its enjoyments. His feelings are for ever on the stretch; and
when he begins to sink into repose, he finds himself obliged to quit
that on which he rests in pleasure for something new, which again
engages his attention, and which also he forsakes for other novelties.

We had scarcely visited the various lakes of Cumberland and
Westmoreland, and conceived an affection for some of the inhabitants,
when the period of our appointment with our Scotch friend approached,
and we left them to travel on. For my own part I was not sorry. I had
now neglected my promise for some time, and I feared the effects of the
daemon's disappointment. He might remain in Switzerland, and wreak his
vengeance on my relatives. This idea pursued me, and tormented me at
every moment from which I might otherwise have snatched repose and
peace. I waited for my letters with feverish impatience: if they were
delayed, I was miserable, and overcome by a thousand fears; and when
they arrived, and I saw the superscription of Elizabeth or my father, I
hardly dared to read and ascertain my fate. Sometimes I thought that the
fiend followed me, and might expedite my remissness by murdering my
companion. When these thoughts possessed me, I would not quit Henry for
a moment, but followed him as his shadow, to protect him from the
fancied rage of his destroyer. I felt as if I had committed some great
crime, the consciousness of which haunted me. I was guiltless, but I had
indeed drawn down a horrible curse upon my head, as mortal as that of
crime.

I visited Edinburgh with languid eyes and mind; and yet that city might
have interested the most unfortunate being. Clerval did not like it so
well as Oxford; for the antiquity of the latter city was more pleasing
to him. But the beauty and regularity of the new town of Edinburgh, its
romantic castle, and its environs, the most delightful in the world,
Arthur's Seat, St. Bernard's Well, and the Pentland Hills, compensated
him for the change, and filled him with cheerfulness and admiration. But
I was impatient to arrive at the termination of my journey.

We left Edinburgh in a week, passing through Coupar, St. Andrews, and
along the banks of the Tay, to Perth, where our friend expected us. But
I was in no mood to laugh and talk with strangers, or enter into their
feelings or plans with the good humour expected from a guest; and
accordingly I told Clerval that I wished to make the tour of Scotland
alone. "Do you," said I, "enjoy yourself, and let this be our
rendezvous. I may be absent a month or two; but do not interfere with my
motions, I entreat you: leave me to peace and solitude for a short time;
and when I return, I hope it will be with a lighter heart, more
congenial to your own temper."

Henry wished to dissuade me; but, seeing me bent on this plan, ceased to
remonstrate. He entreated me to write often. "I had rather be with you,"
he said, "in your solitary rambles, than with these Scotch people, whom
I do not know: hasten then, my dear friend, to return, that I may again
feel myself somewhat at home, which I cannot do in your absence."

Having parted from my friend, I determined to visit some remote spot of
Scotland, and finish my work in solitude. I did not doubt but that the
monster followed me, and would discover himself to me when I should have
finished, that he might receive his companion.

With this resolution I traversed the northern highlands, and fixed on
one of the remotest of the Orkneys as the scene labours. It was a place
fitted for such a work, being hardly more than a rock, whose high sides
were continually beaten upon by the waves. The soil was barren, scarcely
affording pasture for a few miserable cows, and oatmeal for its
inhabitants, which consisted of five persons, whose gaunt and scraggy
limbs gave tokens of their miserable fare. Vegetables and bread, when
they indulged in such luxuries, and even fresh water, was to be procured
from the main land, which was about five miles distant.

On the whole island there were but three miserable huts, and one of
these was vacant when I arrived. This I hired. It contained but two
rooms, and these exhibited all the squalidness of the most miserable
penury. The thatch had fallen in, the walls were unplastered, and the
door was off its hinges. I ordered it to be repaired, bought some
furniture, and took possession; an incident which would, doubtless, have
occasioned some surprise, had not all the senses of the cottagers been
benumbed by want and squalid poverty. As it was, I lived ungazed at and
unmolested, hardly thanked for the pittance of food and clothes which I
gave; so much does suffering blunt even the coarsest sensations of men.

In this retreat I devoted the morning to labour; but in the evening,
when the weather permitted, I walked on the stony beach of the sea, to
listen to the waves as they roared, and dashed at my feet. It was a
monotonous, yet ever-changing scene. I thought of Switzerland; it was
far different from this desolate and appalling landscape. Its hills are
covered with vines, and its cottages are scattered thickly in the
plains. Its fair lakes reflect a blue and gentle sky; and, when troubled
by the winds, their tumult is but as the play of a lively infant, when
compared to the roarings of the giant ocean.

In this manner I distributed my occupations when I first arrived; but,
as I proceeded in my labour, it became every day more horrible and
irksome to me. Sometimes I could not prevail on myself to enter my
laboratory for several days; and at other times I toiled day and night
in order to complete my work. It was indeed a filthy process in which I
was engaged. During my first experiment, a kind of enthusiastic frenzy
had blinded me to the horror of my employment; my mind was intently
fixed on the sequel of my labour, and my eyes were shut to the horror of
my proceedings. But now I went to it in cold blood, and my heart often
sickened at the work of my hands.

Thus situated, employed in the most detestable occupation, immersed in a
solitude where nothing could for an instant call my attention from the
actual scene in which I was engaged, my spirits became unequal; I grew
restless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet my persecutor.
Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing to raise them
lest they should encounter the object which I so much dreaded to behold.
I feared to wander from the sight of my fellow-creatures, lest when
alone he should come to claim his companion.

In the mean time I worked on, and my labour was already considerably
advanced. I looked towards its completion with a tremulous and eager
hope, which I dared not trust myself to question, but which was
intermixed with obscure forebodings of evil, that made my heart sicken
in my bosom.

 These chapters concentrate on Victor' leaving Geneva. He initially goes to England, where he can access further information that he needs for the new creation. Next, he looks for a desolate place where he can work in peace on this project. Although Victor is afraid of the monster, his conscience does not allow him to continue working on his new assignment. Therefore, he keeps delaying the work. Victor's father suggests that he should marry Elizabeth. But he puts it off until the year after he returns from his tour abroad. He is also supposed to meet his friend, Henry, in Strasbourg. He leaves for his tour with his instruments towards the end of September and arrives at Strasbourg. He waits for Clerval to arrive here. They travel along the Rhine from Strasbourg to Rotterdam and then go to London. They also visit Cologne and Holland, and they reach Britain in December. In London they receive a letter from an acquaintance, inviting them to visit Scotland. By March they leave for Scotland, visiting Oxford, Matlock, Cumberland and Windsor, and completing their tour by the end of July. Victor expresses his desire to visit Scotland alone. He wants to look for a remote place where he can start on his work. He comes to the northern highlands and settles on "one of the remotest of the Orkneys as the scene of  labors. " There are three huts on the island, one of which is very isolated. He rents it for his laboratory. The hut is in a miserable condition, and he has it repaired and buys some furniture for it. His choice of such a place raises a few eyebrows, but it does not matter to Victor, who has started working on the creature. In no time he has nearly finished it.

