Frankenstein

Chapter 4

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

As I applied so closely, it may be easily conceived that my
progress was rapid. My ardour was indeed the astonishment of
the students, and my proficiency that of the masters.
Professor Krempe often asked me, with a sly smile, how
Cornelius Agrippa went on? whilst M. Waldman expressed the most
heartfelt exultation in my progress. Two years passed in this
manner, during which I paid no visit to Geneva, but was
engaged, heart and soul, in the pursuit of some discoveries,
which I hoped to make. None but those who have experienced
them can conceive of the enticements of science. In other
studies you go as far as others have gone before you, and there
is nothing more to know; but in a scientific pursuit there is
continual food for discovery and wonder. A mind of moderate
capacity, which closely pursues one study, must infallibly
arrive at great proficiency in that study; and I, who
continuity sought the attainment of one object of pursuit, and
was solely wrapt up in this, improved so rapidly that, at the
end of two years, I made some discoveries in the improvement of
some chemical instruments which procured me great esteem and
admiration at the university. When I had arrived at this
point, and had become as well acquainted with the theory and
practice of natural philosophy as depended on the lessons of
any of the professors at Ingolstadt, my residence there being
no longer conducive to my improvement, I thought of returning
to my friends and my native town, when an incident happened
that protracted my stay.

One of the phenomena which had peculiarly attracted my
attention was the structure of the human frame, and, indeed,
any animal endued with life. Whence, I often asked myself, did
the principle of life proceed? It was a 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 inquiries.
I revolved these circumstances in my mind, and determined
thenceforth to apply myself more particularly to those branches
of natural philosophy which relate to physiology. Unless I had
been animated by an almost supernatural enthusiasm, my
application to this study would have been irksome, and almost
intolerable. To examine the causes of life, we must first have
recourse to death. I became acquainted with the science of
anatomy: but this was not sufficient; I must also observe the
natural decay and corruption of the human body. In my
education my father had taken the greatest precautions that my
mind should be impressed with no supernatural horrors. I do
not ever remember to have trembled at a tale of superstition,
or to have feared the apparition of a spirit. Darkness had no
effect upon my fancy; and a churchyard was to me merely the
receptacle of bodies deprived of life, which, from being the
seat of beauty and strength, had become food for the worm. Now
I was led to examine the cause and progress of this decay, and
forced to spend days and nights in vaults and charnel-houses.
My attention was fixed upon every object the most insupportable
to the delicacy of the human feelings. I saw how the fine form
of man was degraded and wasted; I beheld the corruption of
death succeed to the blooming cheek of life; I saw how the worm
inherited the wonders of the eye and brain. I paused,
examining and analysing all the minutia of causation, as
exemplified in the change from life to death, and death to
life, until from the midst of this darkness a sudden light
broke in upon me--a light so brilliant and wondrous, yet so
simple, that while I became dizzy with the immensity of the
prospect which it illustrated, I was surprised, that among so
many men of genius who had directed their inquiries towards the
same science, that I alone should be reserved to discover so
astonishing a secret.

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

The astonishment which I had at first experienced on this
discovery soon gave place to delight and rapture. After so
much time spent in painful labour, to arrive at once at the
summit of my desires was the most gratifying consummation of my
toils. But this discovery was so great and overwhelming that
all the steps by which I had been progressively led to it were
obliterated, and I beheld only the result. What had been the
study and desires of the wisest men since the creation of the
world was now within my grasp. Not that, like a magic scene,
it all opened upon me at once: the information I had obtained
was of a nature rather to direct my endeavours so soon as I
should point them towards the object of my search, than to
exhibit that object already accomplished. I was like the
Arabian who had been buried with the dead, and found a passage
to life, aided only by one glimmering, and seemingly
ineffectual, light.

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

When I found so astonishing a power placed within my hands, I
hesitated a long time concerning the manner in which I should
employ it. Although I possessed the capacity of bestowing
animation, yet to prepare a frame for 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 like myself, or one of simpler organisation; but my
imagination was too much exalted by my first success to permit
me to doubt of my ability to give life to an animal as complex
and wonderful as man. The materials at present within my
command hardly appeared adequate to so arduous an undertaking;
but I doubted not that I should ultimately succeed. I prepared
myself for a multitude of reverses; my operations might be
incessantly baffled, and at last my work be imperfect: yet,
when I considered the improvement which every day takes place
in science and mechanics, I was encouraged to hope my present
attempts would at least lay the foundations of future success.
Nor could I consider the magnitude and complexity of my plan as
any argument of its impracticability. It was with these
feelings that I began the creation of a human being. As the
minuteness of the parts formed a great hinderance to my speed,
I resolved, contrary to my first intention, to make the being
of a gigantic stature; that is to say, about eight feet in
height, and proportionably large. After having formed this
determination, and having spent some months in successfully
collecting and arranging my materials, I began.

No one can conceive the variety of feelings which bore me
onwards, like a hurricane, in the first enthusiasm of success.
Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should
first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark
world. A new species would bless me as its creator and source;
many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me.
No father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely
as I should deserve theirs. Pursuing these reflections, I
thought, that if I could bestow animation upon lifeless matter,
I might in process of time (although I now found it impossible)
renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to corruption.

These thoughts supported my spirits, while I pursued my
undertaking with unremitting ardour. My cheek had grown pale
with study, and my person had become emaciated with
confinement. Sometimes, on the very brink of certainty, I
failed; yet still I clung to the hope which the next day or the
next hour might realise. One secret which I alone possessed
was the hope to which I had dedicated myself; and the moon
gazed on my midnight labours, while, with unrelaxed and
breathless eagerness, I pursued nature to her hiding-places.
Who shall conceive the horrors of my secret toil, as I dabbled
among the unhallowed damps of the grave, or tortured the living
animal to animate the lifeless clay? My limbs now tremble and
my eyes swim with the remembrance; but then a resistless, and
almost frantic, impulse urged me forward; I seemed to have lost
all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit. It was indeed
but a passing trance that only made me feel with renewed
acuteness so soon as, the unnatural stimulus ceasing to
operate, I had returned to my old habits. I collected bones
from charnel houses; and disturbed, with profane fingers, the
tremendous secrets of the human frame. In a solitary chamber,
or rather cell, at the top of the house, and separated from all
the other apartments by a gallery and staircase, I kept my
workshop of filthy creation: my eye-balls were starting from
their sockets in attending to the details of my employment.
The dissecting room and the slaughterhouse furnished many of my
materials; and often did my human nature turn with loathing
from my occupation, whilst, still urged on by an eagerness
which perpetually increased, I brought my work near to a
conclusion.

The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and
soul, in one pursuit. It was a most beautiful season; never
did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines
yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to
the charms of nature. And the same feelings which made me
neglect the scenes around me caused me also to forget those
friends who were so many miles absent, and whom I had not seen
for so long a time. I knew my silence disquieted them; and I
well remembered the words of my father: "I know that while you
are pleased with yourself, you will think of us with affection,
and we shall hear regularly from you. You must pardon me if I
regard any interruption in your correspondence as a proof that
your other duties are equally neglected."

I knew well, therefore, what would be my father's feelings; but
I could not tear my thoughts from my employment, loathsome in
itself, but which had taken an irresistible hold of my
imagination. I wished, as it were, to procrastinate all that
related to my feelings of affection until the great object,
which swallowed up every habit of my nature, should be completed.

I then thought that my father would be unjust if he ascribed my
neglect to vice, or faultiness on my part; but I am now
convinced that he was justified in conceiving that I should not
be altogether free from blame. A human being in perfection
ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful mind, and never to
allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his
tranquillity. I do not think that the pursuit of knowledge is
an exception to this rule. If the study to which you apply
yourself has a tendency to weaken your affections, and to
destroy your taste for those simple pleasures in which no alloy
can possibly mix, then that study is certainly unlawful, that
is to say, not befitting the human mind. If this rule were
always observed; if no man allowed any pursuit whatsoever to
interfere with the tranquillity of his domestic affections,
Greece had not been enslaved; Caesar would have spared his
country; America would have been discovered more gradually;
and the empires of Mexico and Peru had not been destroyed.

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

My father made no reproach in his letters, and only took notice
of my silence by inquiring into my occupations more
particularly than before. Winter, spring, and summer passed
away during my labours; but I did not watch the blossom or the
expanding leaves--sights which before always yielded me supreme
delight--so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation. The
leaves of that year had withered before my work drew near to a
close; and now every day showed me more plainly how well I had
succeeded. But my enthusiasm was checked by my anxiety, and I
appeared rather like one doomed by slavery to toil in the
mines, or any other unwholesome trade, than an artist occupied
by his favourite employment. Every night I was oppressed by a
slow fever, and I became nervous to a most painful degree; the
fall of a leaf startled me, and I shunned my fellow-creatures
as if I had been guilty of a crime. Sometimes I grew alarmed
at the wreck I perceived that I had become; the energy of my
purpose alone sustained me: my labours would soon end, and I
believed that exercise and amusement would then drive away
incipient disease; and I promised myself both of these when my
creation should be complete.

Chapter 5

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