Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus Read online

  CHAPTER IV.

  From this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, in themost comprehensive sense of the term, became nearly my sole occupation.I read with ardour those works, so full of genius and discrimination,which modern enquirers have written on these subjects. I attended thelectures, and cultivated the acquaintance, of the men of science of theuniversity; and I found even in M. Krempe a great deal of sound senseand real information, combined, it is true, with a repulsive physiognomyand manners, but not on that account the less valuable. In M. Waldman Ifound a true friend. His gentleness was never tinged by dogmatism; andhis instructions were given with an air of frankness and good nature,that banished every idea of pedantry. In a thousand ways he smoothed forme the path of knowledge, and made the most abstruse enquiries clear andfacile to my apprehension. My application was at first fluctuating anduncertain; it gained strength as I proceeded, and soon became so ardentand eager, that the stars often disappeared in the light of morningwhilst I was yet engaged in my laboratory.

  As I applied so closely, it may be easily conceived that my progress wasrapid. My ardour was indeed the astonishment of the students, and myproficiency that of the masters. Professor Krempe often asked me, witha sly smile, how Cornelius Agrippa went on? whilst M. Waldman expressedthe most heart-felt exultation in my progress. Two years passed in thismanner, during which I paid no visit to Geneva, but was engaged, heartand soul, in the pursuit of some discoveries, which I hoped to make.None but those who have experienced them can conceive of the enticementsof science. In other studies you go as far as others have gone beforeyou, and there is nothing more to know; but in a scientific pursuitthere is continual food for discovery and wonder. A mind of moderatecapacity, which closely pursues one study, must infallibly arrive atgreat proficiency in that study; and I, who continually sought theattainment of one object of pursuit, and was solely wrapt up in this,improved so rapidly, that, at the end of two years, I made somediscoveries in the improvement of some chemical instruments, whichprocured me great esteem and admiration at the university. When I hadarrived at this point, and had become as well acquainted with the theoryand practice of natural philosophy as depended on the lessons of any ofthe professors at Ingolstadt, my residence there being no longerconducive to my improvements, I thought of returning to my friends andmy native town, when an incident happened that protracted my stay.

  One of the phenomena which had peculiarly attracted my attention was thestructure of the human frame, and, indeed, any animal endued with life.Whence, I often asked myself, did the principle of life proceed? It wasa bold question, and one which has ever been considered as a mystery;yet with how many things are we upon the brink of becoming acquainted,if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our enquiries. I revolvedthese circumstances in my mind, and determined thenceforth to applymyself more particularly to those branches of natural philosophy whichrelate to physiology. Unless I had been animated by an almostsupernatural enthusiasm, my application to this study would have beenirksome, and almost intolerable. To examine the causes of life, we mustfirst have recourse to death. I became acquainted with the science ofanatomy: but this was not sufficient; I must also observe the naturaldecay and corruption of the human body. In my education my father hadtaken the greatest precautions that my mind should be impressed with nosupernatural horrors. I do not ever remember to have trembled at a taleof superstition, or to have feared the apparition of a spirit. Darknesshad no effect upon my fancy; and a churchyard was to me merely thereceptacle of bodies deprived of life, which, from being the seat ofbeauty and strength, had become food for the worm. Now I was led toexamine the cause and progress of this decay, and forced to spend daysand nights in vaults and charnel-houses. My attention was fixed uponevery object the most insupportable to the delicacy of the humanfeelings. I saw how the fine form of man was degraded and wasted; Ibeheld the corruption of death succeed to the blooming cheek of life; Isaw how the worm inherited the wonders of the eye and brain. I paused,examining and analysing all the minutiae of causation, as exemplified inthe change from life to death, and death to life, until from the midstof this darkness a sudden light broke in upon me--a light so brilliantand wondrous, yet so simple, that while I became dizzy with theimmensity of the prospect which it illustrated, I was surprised, thatamong so many men of genius who had directed their enquiries towards thesame science, that I alone should be reserved to discover so astonishinga secret.

  Remember, I am not recording the vision of a madman. The sun does notmore certainly shine in the heavens, than that which I now affirm istrue. Some miracle might have produced it, yet the stages of thediscovery were distinct and probable. After days and nights ofincredible labour and fatigue, I succeeded in discovering the cause ofgeneration and life; nay, more, I became myself capable of bestowinganimation upon lifeless matter.

  The astonishment which I had at first experienced on this discovery soongave place to delight and rapture. After so much time spent in painfullabour, to arrive at once at the summit of my desires, was the mostgratifying consummation of my toils. But this discovery was so greatand overwhelming, that all the steps by which I had been progressivelyled to it were obliterated, and I beheld only the result. What had beenthe study and desire of the wisest men since the creation of the worldwas now within my grasp. Not that, like a magic scene, it all openedupon me at once: the information I had obtained was of a nature ratherto direct my endeavours so soon as I should point them towards theobject of my search, than to exhibit that object already accomplished. Iwas like the Arabian who had been buried with the dead, and found apassage to life, aided only by one glimmering, and seeminglyineffectual, light.

  I see by your eagerness, and the wonder and hope which your eyesexpress, my friend, that you expect to be informed of the secret withwhich I am acquainted; that cannot be: listen patiently until the end ofmy story, and you will easily perceive why I am reserved upon thatsubject. I will not lead you on, unguarded and ardent as I then was, toyour destruction and infallible misery. Learn from me, if not by myprecepts, at least by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement ofknowledge, and how much happier that man is who believes his native townto be the world, than he who aspires to become greater than his naturewill allow.

  When I found so astonishing a power placed within my hands, I hesitateda long time concerning the manner in which I should employ it. AlthoughI possessed the capacity of bestowing animation, yet to prepare a framefor the reception of it, with all its intricacies of fibres, muscles,and veins, still remained a work of inconceivable difficulty and labour.I doubted at first whether I should attempt the creation of a being likemyself, or one of simpler organization; but my imagination was too muchexalted by my first success to permit me to doubt of my ability to givelife to an animal as complex and wonderful as man. The materials atpresent within my command hardly appeared adequate to so arduous anundertaking; but I doubted not that I should ultimately succeed. Iprepared myself for a multitude of reverses; my operations might beincessantly baffled, and at last my work be imperfect: yet, when Iconsidered the improvement which every day takes place in science andmechanics, I was encouraged to hope my present attempts would at leastlay the foundations of future success. Nor could I consider themagnitude and complexity of my plan as any argument of itsimpracticability. It was with these feelings that I began the creationof a human being. As the minuteness of the parts formed a greathinderance to my speed, I resolved, contrary to my first intention, tomake the being of a gigantic stature; that is to say, about eight feetin height, and proportionably large. After having formed thisdetermination, and having spent some months in successfully collectingand arranging my materials, I began.

  No one can conceive the variety of feelings which bore me onwards, likea hurricane, in the first enthusiasm of success. Life and death appearedto me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour atorrent of light into our dark world. A new species would bless me asits creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would o
we theirbeing to me. No father could claim the gratitude of his child socompletely as I should deserve theirs. Pursuing these reflections, Ithought, that if I could bestow animation upon lifeless matter, I mightin process of time (although I now found it impossible) renew life wheredeath had apparently devoted the body to corruption.

  These thoughts supported my spirits, while I pursued my undertaking withunremitting ardour. My cheek had grown pale with study, and my personhad become emaciated with confinement. Sometimes, on the very brink ofcertainty, I failed; yet still I clung to the hope which the next day orthe next hour might realise. One secret which I alone possessed was thehope to which I had dedicated myself; and the moon gazed on my midnightlabours, while, with unrelaxed and breathless eagerness, I pursuednature to her hiding-places. Who shall conceive the horrors of my secrettoil, as I dabbled among the unhallowed damps of the grave, or torturedthe living animal to animate the lifeless clay? My limbs now tremble,and my eyes swim with the remembrance; but then a resistless, andalmost frantic, impulse, urged me forward; I seemed to have lost allsoul or sensation but for this one pursuit. It was indeed but a passingtrance, that only made me feel with renewed acuteness so soon as, theunnatural stimulus ceasing to operate, I had returned to my old habits.I collected bones from charnel-houses; and disturbed, with profanefingers, the tremendous secrets of the human frame. In a solitarychamber, or rather cell, at the top of the house, and separated from allthe other apartments by a gallery and staircase, I kept my workshop offilthy creation: my eye-balls were starting from their sockets inattending to the details of my employment. The dissecting room and theslaughter-house furnished many of my materials; and often did my humannature turn with loathing from my occupation, whilst, still urged on byan eagerness which perpetually increased, I brought my work near to aconclusion.

  The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, inone pursuit. It was a most beautiful season; never did the fields bestowa more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage:but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature. And the samefeelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me also toforget those friends who were so many miles absent, and whom I had notseen for so long a time. I knew my silence disquieted them; and I wellremembered the words of my father: "I know that while you are pleasedwith yourself, you will think of us with affection, and we shall hearregularly from you. You must pardon me if I regard any interruption inyour correspondence as a proof that your other duties are equallyneglected."

  I knew well therefore what would be my father's feelings; but I couldnot tear my thoughts from my employment, loathsome in itself, but whichhad taken an irresistible hold of my imagination. I wished, as it were,to procrastinate all that related to my feelings of affection until thegreat object, which swallowed up every habit of my nature, should becompleted.

  I then thought that my father would be unjust if he ascribed my neglectto vice, or faultiness on my part; but I am now convinced that he wasjustified in conceiving that I should not be altogether free fromblame. A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm andpeaceful mind, and never to allow passion or a transitory desire todisturb his tranquillity. I do not think that the pursuit of knowledgeis an exception to this rule. If the study to which you apply yourselfhas a tendency to weaken your affections, and to destroy your taste forthose simple pleasures in which no alloy can possibly mix, then thatstudy is certainly unlawful, that is to say, not befitting the humanmind. If this rule were always observed; if no man allowed any pursuitwhatsoever to interfere with the tranquillity of his domesticaffections, Greece had not been enslaved; Caesar would have spared hiscountry; America would have been discovered more gradually; and theempires of Mexico and Peru had not been destroyed.

  But I forget that I am moralising in the most interesting part of mytale; and your looks remind me to proceed.

  My father made no reproach in his letters, and only took notice of mysilence by enquiring into my occupations more particularly than before.Winter, spring, and summer passed away during my labours; but I did notwatch the blossom or the expanding leaves--sights which before alwaysyielded me supreme delight--so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation.The leaves of that year had withered before my work drew near to aclose; and now every day showed me more plainly how well I hadsucceeded. But my enthusiasm was checked by my anxiety, and I appearedrather like one doomed by slavery to toil in the mines, or any otherunwholesome trade, than an artist occupied by his favourite employment.Every night I was oppressed by a slow fever, and I became nervous to amost painful degree; the fall of a leaf startled me, and I shunned myfellow-creatures as if I had been guilty of a crime. Sometimes I grewalarmed at the wreck I perceived that I had become; the energy of mypurpose alone sustained me: my labours would soon end, and I believedthat exercise and amusement would then drive away incipient disease; andI promised myself both of these when my creation should be complete.