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 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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