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.
[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 book-keeping; 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 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 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.-