Chapter 5
It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the
accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost
amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me,
that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that
lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered
dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when,
by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull
yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive
motion agitated its limbs.
How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how
delineate the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had
endeavoured to form? His limbs were in proportion, and I had
selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! Great God!
His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries
beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth
of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more
horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the
same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they were set,
his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips.
The different accidents of life are not so changeable as the
feelings of human nature. I had worked hard for nearly two years,
for the sole purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body.
For this I had deprived myself of rest and health. I had desired it
with an ardour that far exceeded moderation; but now that I had
finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror
and disgust filled my heart. Unable to endure the aspect of the
being I had created, I rushed out of the room and continued a long
time traversing my bed-chamber, unable to compose my mind to sleep.
At length lassitude succeeded to the tumult I had before endured,
and I threw myself on the bed in my clothes, endeavouring to seek
a few moments of forgetfulness. But it was in vain; I slept,
indeed, but I was disturbed by the wildest dreams. I thought I saw
Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking in the streets of Ingolstadt.
Delighted and surprised, I embraced her, but as I imprinted the
first kiss on her lips, they became livid with the hue of death;
her features appeared to change, and I thought that I held the corpse
of my dead mother in my arms; a shroud enveloped her form, and I saw
the grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel. I started from
my sleep with horror; a cold dew covered my forehead, my teeth chattered,
and every limb became convulsed; when, by the dim and yellow light of the moon,
as it forced its way through the window shutters, I beheld the wretch
--the miserable monster whom I had created. He held up the curtain of the bed;
and his eyes, if eyes they may be called, were fixed on me. His jaws opened,
and he muttered some inarticulate sounds, while a grin wrinkled his cheeks.
He might have spoken, but I did not hear; one hand was stretched out,
seemingly to detain me, but I escaped and rushed downstairs.
I took refuge in the courtyard belonging to the house which I inhabited,
where I remained during the rest of the night, walking up and down in the
greatest agitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound
as if it were to announce the approach of the demoniacal corpse to which
I had so miserably given life.
Oh! No mortal could support the horror of that countenance. A mummy
again endued with animation could not be so hideous as that wretch.
I had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then, but when
those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion,
it became a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived.
I passed the night wretchedly. Sometimes my pulse beat so quickly
and hardly that I felt the palpitation of every artery; at others,
I nearly sank to the ground through languor and extreme weakness.
Mingled with this horror, I felt the bitterness of disappointment;
dreams that had been my food and pleasant rest for so long a space
were now become a hell to me; and the change was so rapid,
the overthrow so complete!
Morning, dismal and wet, at length dawned and discovered to my
sleepless and aching eyes the church of Ingolstadt, its white
steeple and clock, which indicated the sixth hour. The porter
opened the gates of the court, which had that night been my asylum,
and I issued into the streets, pacing them with quick steps, as if
I sought to avoid the wretch whom I feared every turning of the
street would present to my view. I did not dare return to the
apartment which I inhabited, but felt impelled to hurry on,
although drenched by the rain which poured from a black and
comfortless sky.
I continued walking in this manner for some time, endeavouring
by bodily exercise to ease the load that weighed upon my mind.
I traversed the streets without any clear conception of where I was
or what I was doing. My heart palpitated in the sickness of fear,
and I hurried on with irregular steps, not daring to look about me:
Like one who, on a lonely road,
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And, having once turned round, walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge "Ancient Mariner"
Continuing thus, I came at length opposite to the inn at which the
various diligences and carriages usually stopped. Here I paused,
I knew not why; but I remained some minutes with my eyes fixed on
a coach that was coming towards me from the other end of the street.
As it drew nearer I observed that it was the Swiss diligence;
it stopped just where I was standing, and on the door being opened,
I perceived Henry Clerval, who, on seeing me, instantly sprung out.
"My dear Frankenstein," exclaimed he, "how glad I am to see you!
How fortunate that you should be here at the very moment of my alighting!"
Nothing could equal my delight on seeing Clerval; his presence
brought back to my thoughts my father, Elizabeth, and all those
scenes of home so dear to my recollection. I grasped his hand,
and in a moment forgot my horror and misfortune; I felt suddenly,
and for the first time during many months, calm and serene joy.
I welcomed my friend, therefore, in the most cordial manner, and we
walked towards my college. Clerval continued talking for some time
about our mutual friends and his own good fortune in being permitted
to come to Ingolstadt. "You may easily believe," said he,
"how great was the difficulty to persuade my father that all
necessary knowledge was not comprised in the noble art of
bookkeeping; and, indeed, I believe I left him incredulous to the
last, for his constant answer to my unwearied entreaties was the
same as that of the Dutch schoolmaster in The Vicar of Wakefield:
`I have ten thousand florins a year without Greek, I eat heartily
without Greek.' But his affection for me at length overcame his
dislike of learning, and he has permitted me to undertake a voyage
of discovery to the land of knowledge."
"It gives me the greatest delight to see you; but tell me how you
left my father, brothers, and Elizabeth."
"Very well, and very happy, only a little uneasy that they hear
from you so seldom. By the by, I mean to lecture you a little upon
their account myself. But, my dear Frankenstein," continued he,
stopping short and gazing full in my face, "I did not before remark
how very ill you appear; so thin and pale; you look as if you had
been watching for several nights."
"You have guessed right; I have lately been so deeply engaged
in one occupation that I have not allowed myself sufficient rest,
as you see; but I hope, I sincerely hope, that all these employments
are now at an end and that I am at length free."
I trembled excessively; I could not endure to think of, and far
less to allude to, the occurrences of the preceding night.
I walked with a quick pace, and we soon arrived at my college.
I then reflected, and the thought made me shiver, that the creature
whom I had left in my apartment might still be there, alive and
walking about. I dreaded to behold this monster, but I feared
still more that Henry should see him. Entreating him, therefore,
to remain a few minutes at the bottom of the stairs, I darted up
towards my own room. My hand was already on the lock of the door
before I recollected myself. I then paused, and a cold shivering
came over me. I threw the door forcibly open, as children are
accustomed to do when they expect a spectre to stand in waiting for
them on the other side; but nothing appeared. I stepped fearfully in:
the apartment was empty, and my bedroom was also freed from its
hideous guest. I could hardly believe that so great a good fortune
could have befallen me, but when I became assured that my enemy had
indeed fled, I clapped my hands for joy and ran down to Clerval.
We ascended into my room, and the servant presently brought breakfast;
but I was unable to contain myself. It was not joy only that
possessed me; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness,
and my pulse beat rapidly. I was unable to remain for a single instant
in the same place; I jumped over the chairs, clapped my hands,
and laughed aloud. Clerval at first attributed my unusual spirits
to joy on his arrival, but when he observed me more attentively,
he saw a wildness in my eyes for which he could not account, and my loud,
unrestrained, heartless laughter frightened and astonished him.
"My dear Victor," cried he, "what, for God's sake, is the matter?
Do not laugh in that manner. How ill you are! What is the cause
of all this?"
"Do not ask me," cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for I
thought I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; "HE can tell.
Oh, save me! Save me!" I imagined that the monster seized me;
I struggled furiously and fell down in a fit.
Poor Clerval! What must have been his feelings? A meeting,
which he anticipated with such joy, so strangely turned to bitterness.
But I was not the witness of his grief, for I was lifeless and did not
recover my senses for a long, long time.
This was the commencement of a nervous fever which confined me
for several months. During all that time Henry was my only nurse.
I afterwards learned that, knowing my father's advanced age and
unfitness for so long a journey, and how wretched my sickness would
make Elizabeth, he spared them this grief by concealing the extent
of my disorder. He knew that I could not have a more kind and
attentive nurse than himself; and, firm in the hope he felt of
my recovery, he did not doubt that, instead of doing harm,
he performed the kindest action that he could towards them.
But I was in reality very ill, and surely nothing but the unbounded
and unremitting attentions of my friend could have restored me to life.
The form of the monster on whom I had bestowed existence was
forever before my eyes, and I raved incessantly concerning him.
Doubtless my words surprised Henry; he at first believed them to be
the wanderings of my disturbed imagination, but the pertinacity with
which I continually recurred to the same subject persuaded him that my
disorder indeed owed its origin to some uncommon and terrible event.
By very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses that alarmed and
grieved my friend, I recovered. I remember the first time I became
capable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure,
I perceived that the fallen leaves had disappeared and that the
young buds were shooting forth from the trees that shaded my window.
It was a divine spring, and the season contributed greatly to my
convalescence. I felt also sentiments of joy and affection revive
in my bosom; my gloom disappeared, and in a short time I became as
cheerful as before I was attacked by the fatal passion.
"Dearest Clerval," exclaimed I, "how kind, how very good you are to me.
This whole winter, instead of being spent in study, as you promised yourself,
has been consumed in my sick room. How shall I ever repay you? I feel the
greatest remorse for the disappointment of which I have been the occasion,
but you will forgive me."
"You will repay me entirely if you do not discompose yourself,
but get well as fast as you can; and since you appear in such
good spirits, I may speak to you on one subject, may I not?"
I trembled. One subject! What could it be? Could he allude to an
object on whom I dared not even think? "Compose yourself," said
Clerval, who observed my change of colour, "I will not mention it
if it agitates you; but your father and cousin would be very happy
if they received a letter from you in your own handwriting. They
hardly know how ill you have been and are uneasy at your long silence."
"Is that all, my dear Henry? How could you suppose that my first
thought would not fly towards those dear, dear friends whom I love
and who are so deserving of my love?"
"If this is your present temper, my friend, you will perhaps be
glad to see a letter that has been lying here some days for you;
it is from your cousin, I believe."
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