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 bedchamber, 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 down
stairs. 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."[1]
[1] Coleridge's _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 bchold 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 for ever 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 thoughts 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." |