Frankenstein (Mary
Shelley)
Excerpts
Chapter 2
[…]
Natural philosophy is the genius that has regulated my fate; I desire,
therefore, in this narration, to state those facts which led to my predilection
for that science. When I was thirteen years of age, we all went on a party of
pleasure to the baths near Thonon: the inclemency of
the weather obliged us to remain a day confined to the inn. In this house I
chanced to find a volume of the works of Cornelius Agrippa. I opened it with
apathy; the theory which he attempts to demonstrate, and the wonderful facts which
he relates, soon changed this feeling into enthusiasm. A new light seemed to
dawn upon my mind; and, bounding with joy, I communicated my discovery to my
father. My father looked carelessly at the title page of my book, and said,
"Ah! Cornelius Agrippa! My dear Victor, do not waste your time upon this;
it is sad trash."
If, instead of this remark, my father had taken the pains to explain to me
that the principles of Agrippa had been entirely exploded, and that a modern
system of science had been introduced, which possessed much greater powers than
the ancient, because the powers of the latter were chimerical, while those of
the former were real and practical; under such circumstances, I should
certainly have thrown Agrippa aside, and have contented my imagination, warmed
as it was, by returning with greater ardour to my
former studies. It is even possible that the train of my ideas would never have
received the fatal impulse that led to my ruin. But the cursory glance my
father had taken of my volume by no means assured me that he was acquainted
with its contents; and I continued to read with the greatest avidity.
When I returned home, my first care was to procure the whole works of this
author, and afterwards of Paracelsus and Albertus
Magnus. I read and studied the wild fancies of these writers with delight; they
appeared to me treasures known to few beside myself. I have described myself as
always having been embued with a fervent longing to
penetrate the secrets of nature. In spite of the intense labour
and wonderful discoveries of modern philosophers, I always came from my studies
discontented and unsatisfied. Sir Isaac Newton is said to have avowed that he
felt like a child picking up shells beside the great and unexplored ocean of
truth. Those of his successors in each branch of natural philosophy with whom I
was acquainted appeared, even to my boy's apprehensions, as tyros engaged in
the same pursuit.
The untaught peasant beheld the elements around him, and was acquainted with
their practical uses. The most learned philosopher knew little more. He had
partially unveiled the face of Nature, but her immortal lineaments were still a
wonder and a mystery. He might dissect, anatomise,
and give names; but, not to speak of a final cause, causes in their secondary
and tertiary grades were utterly unknown to him. I had gazed upon the
fortifications and impediments that seemed to keep human beings from entering
the citadel of nature, and rashly and ignorantly I had repined.
But here were books, and here were men who had penetrated deeper and knew
more. I took their word for all that they averred, and I became their disciple.
It may appear strange that such should arise in the eighteenth century; but
while I followed the routine of education in the schools of
Nor were these my only visions. The raising of ghosts or devils was a
promise liberally accorded by my favourite authors,
the fulfilment of which I most eagerly sought; and if
my incantations were always unsuccessful, I attributed the failure rather to my
own inexperience and mistake than to a want of skill or fidelity in my
instructors. And thus for a time I was occupied by exploded systems, mingling,
like an unadept, a thousand contradictory theories,
and floundering desperately in a very slough of multifarious knowledge, guided
by an ardent imagination and childish reasoning, till an accident again changed
the current of my ideas.
When I was about fifteen years old we had retired to our house near Belrive, when we witnessed a most violent and terrible
thunderstorm. It advanced from behind the mountains of Jura; and the thunder
burst at once with frightful loudness from various quarters of the heavens. I
remained, while the storm lasted, watching its progress with curiosity and
delight. As I stood at the door, on a sudden I beheld a stream of fire issue
from an old and beautiful oak which stood about twenty yards from our house;
and so soon as the dazzling light vanished the oak had disappeared, and nothing
remained but a blasted stump. When we visited it the next morning, we found the
tree shattered in a singular manner. It was not splintered by the shock, but
entirely reduced to thin ribands of wood. I never
beheld anything so utterly destroyed.
Before this I was not unacquainted with the more obvious laws of
electricity. On this occasion a man of great research in natural philosophy was
with us, and, excited by this catastrophe, he entered on the explanation of a
theory which he had formed on the subject of electricity and galvanism, which
was at once new and astonishing to me. All that he said threw greatly into the
shade Cornelius Agrippa, Albertus Magnus, and
Paracelsus, the lords of my imagination; but by some fatality the overthrow of
these men disinclined me to pursue my accustomed studies. It seemed to me as if
nothing would or could ever be known. All that had so long engaged my attention
suddenly grew despicable. By one of those caprices of the mind, which we are
perhaps most subject to in early youth, I at once gave up my former
occupations; set down natural history and all its progeny as a deformed and
abortive creation; and entertained the greatest disdain for a would-be science,
which could never even step within the threshold of real knowledge. In this
mood of mind I betook myself to the mathematics, and the branches of study
appertaining to that science, as being built upon secure foundations, and so
worthy of my consideration.
Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by such slight ligaments are
we bound to prosperity or ruin. When I look back, it seems to me as if this
almost miraculous change of inclination and will was the immediate suggestion
of the guardian angel of my life--the last effort made by the spirit of
preservation to avert the storm that was even then hanging in the stars, and
ready to envelope me. Her victory was announced by an unusual tranquillity and gladness of soul, which followed the
relinquishing of my ancient and latterly tormenting studies. It was thus that I
was to be taught to associate evil with their prosecution, happiness with their
disregard.
It was a strong effort of the spirit of good; but it was ineffectual.
Destiny was too potent, and her immutable laws had decreed my utter and terrible
destruction.
[…]
Chapter 3
Partly from curiosity, and partly from idleness, I went into the lecturing
room, which M. Waldman entered shortly after. This professor was very unlike
his colleague. He appeared about fifty years of age, but with an aspect
expressive of the greatest benevolence; a few grey hairs covered his temples,
but those at the back of his head were nearly black. His person was short, but
remarkably erect; and his voice the sweetest I had ever heard. He began his
lecture by a recapitulation of the history of chemistry, and the various
improvements made by different men of learning, pronouncing with fervour the names of the most distinguished discoverers. He
then took a cursory view of the present state of the science, and explained
many of its elementary terms. After having made a few preparatory experiments,
he concluded with a panegyric upon modern chemistry, the terms of which I shall
never forget:--
"The ancient teachers of this science," said he, "promised
impossibilities, and performed nothing. The modern masters promise very little;
they know that metals cannot be transmuted, and that the elixir of life is a
chimera. But these philosophers, whose hands seem only made to dabble in dirt,
and their eyes to pore over the microscope or crucible, have indeed performed
miracles. They penetrate into the recesses of nature, and show how she works in
her hiding places. They ascend into the heavens: they have discovered how the
blood circulates, and the nature of the air we breathe. They have acquired new
and almost unlimited powers; they can command the thunders of heaven, mimic the
earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with its own shadows."
Such were the professor's words--rather let me say such the words of fate,
enounced to destroy me. As he went on, I felt as if my soul were grappling with
a palpable enemy; one by one the various keys were touched which formed the
mechanism of my being: chord after chord was sounded, and soon my mind was
filled with one thought, one conception, one purpose. So much has been done,
exclaimed the soul of Frankenstein--more, far more, will I achieve: treading in
the steps already marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and
unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation.
I closed not my eyes that night. My internal being was in a state of
insurrection and turmoil; I felt that order would thence arise, but I had no
power to produce it. By degrees, after the morning's dawn, sleep came. I awoke,
and my yesternight's thoughts were as a dream. There
only remained a resolution to return to my ancient studies, and to devote
myself to a science for which I believed myself to possess a natural talent. On
the same day, I paid M. Waldman a visit. His manners in private were even more
mild and attractive than in public; for there was a certain dignity in his mien
during his lecture, which in his own house was replaced by the greatest
affability and kindness. I gave him pretty nearly the same account of my former
pursuits as I had given to his fellow-professor. He heard with attention the
little narration concerning my studies, and smiled at the names of Cornelius
Agrippa and Paracelsus, but without the contempt that M. Krempe
had exhibited. He said, that "these were men to whose indefatigable zeal
modern philosophers were indebted for most of the foundations of their
knowledge. They had left to us, as an easier task, to give new names, and
arrange in connected classifications, the facts which they in a great degree
had been the instruments of bringing to light. The labours
of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fail in
ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind." I listened to his
statement, which was delivered without any presumption or affectation; and then
added, that his lecture had removed my prejudices against modern chemists; I
expressed myself in measured terms, with the modesty and deference due from a
youth to his instructor, without letting escape (inexperience in life would
have made me ashamed) any of the enthusiasm which stimulated my intended labours. I requested his advice concerning the books I
ought to procure.
"I am happy," said M. Waldman, "to have gained a disciple;
and if your application equals your ability, I have no doubt of your success.
Chemistry is that branch of natural philosophy in which the greatest
improvements have been and may be made: it is on that account that I have made
it my peculiar study; but at the same time I have not neglected the other
branches of science. A man would make but a very sorry chemist if he attended
to that department of human knowledge alone. If your wish is to become really a
man of science, and not merely a petty experimentalist, I should advise you to
apply to every branch of natural philosophy, including mathematics."
He then took me into his laboratory, and explained to me the uses of his
various machines; instructing me as to what I ought to procure, and promising
me the use of his own when I should have advanced far enough in the science not
to derange their mechanism. He also gave me the list of books which I had
requested; and I took my leave.
Thus ended a day memorable to me: it decided my future destiny.
Chapter 3
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.
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 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
Chapter 10
It was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent. For some time I
sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice. A mist covered both that and
the surrounding mountains. Presently a breeze dissipated the cloud, and I
descended upon the glacier. The surface is very uneven, rising like the waves
of a troubled sea, descending low, and interspersed by rifts that sink deep.
The field of ice is almost a league in width, but I spent nearly two hours in
crossing it. The opposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock. From the side
where I now stood Montanvert was exactly opposite, at
the distance of a league; and above it rose
As I said this, I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance,
advancing towards me with superhuman speed. He bounded over the crevices in the
ice, among which I had walked with caution; his stature, also, as he
approached, seemed to exceed that of man. I was troubled: a mist came over my
eyes, and I felt a faintness seize me; but I was quickly restored by the cold
gale of the mountains. I perceived, as the shape came nearer (sight tremendous
and abhorred!) that it was the wretch whom I had created. I trembled with rage
and horror, resolving to wait his approach, and then close with him in mortal
combat. He approached; his countenance bespoke bitter anguish, combined with
disdain and malignity, while its unearthly ugliness rendered it almost too
horrible for human eyes. But I scarcely observed this; rage and hatred had at
first deprived me of utterance, and I recovered only to overwhelm him with
words expressive of furious detestation and contempt.
"Devil," I exclaimed, "do you dare approach me? and do not
you fear the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head? Begone, vile insect! or rather, stay, that I may trample
you to dust! and, oh! that I could, with the extinction of your miserable
existence, restore those victims whom you have so diabolically murdered!"
"I expected this reception," said the daemon. "All men hate
the wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living
things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou
art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You purpose
to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life? Do your duty towards me, and I
will do mine towards you and the rest of mankind. If you will comply with my
conditions, I will leave them and you at peace; but if you refuse, I will glut
the maw of death, until it be satiated with the blood of your remaining
friends."
"Abhorred monster! fiend that thou art! the tortures of hell are too
mild a vengeance for thy crimes. Wretched devil! you reproach me with your
creation; come on, then, that I may extinguish the spark which I so negligently
bestowed." My rage was without bounds; I sprang on him, impelled by all
the feelings which can arm one being against the existence of another.
He easily eluded me, and said--
"Be calm! I entreat you to hear me, before you give vent to your hatred
on my devoted head. Have I not suffered enough that you seek to increase my
misery? Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to
me, and I will defend it. Remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself;
my height is superior to thine; my joints more
supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. I am thy
creature, and I will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king, if
thou wilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest
me. Oh, Frankenstein, be not equitable to every other, and trample upon me
alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and affection, is most due.
Remember, that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam; but I am rather the
fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no
misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I
was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall
again be virtuous."
"Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no
community between you and me; we are enemies. Begone,
or let us try our strength in a fight, in which one must fall."
"How can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a favourable eye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness
and compassion? Believe me, Frankenstein: I was benevolent; my soul glowed with
love and humanity: but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor
me; what hope can I gather from your fellow-creatures, who owe me nothing? they
spurn and hate me. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers are my refuge. I
have wandered here many days; the caves of ice, which I only do not fear, are a
dwelling to me, and the only one which man does not grudge. These bleak skies I
hail, for they are kinder to me than your fellow-beings. If the multitude of
mankind knew of my existence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves for
my destruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keep no terms
with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my wretchedness. Yet it
is in your power to recompense me, and deliver them from an evil which it only
remains for you to make so great that not only you and your family, but
thousands of others, shall be swallowed up in the whirlwinds of its rage. Let
your compassion be moved, and do not disdain me. Listen to my tale: when you
have heard that, abandon or commiserate me, as you shall judge that I deserve.
But hear me. The guilty are allowed, by human laws, bloody as they are, to
speak in their own defence before they are condemned.
Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder; and yet you would, with a
satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice
of man! Yet I ask you not to spare me: listen to me; and then, if you can, and
if you will, destroy the work of your hands."
"Why do you call to my remembrance," I rejoined,
"circumstances, of which I shudder to reflect, that I have been the
miserable origin and author? Cursed be the day, abhorred devil, in which you
first saw light! Cursed (although I curse myself) be the hands that formed you!
You have made me wretched beyond expression. You have left me no power to
consider whether I am just to you or not. Begone!
relieve me from the sight of your detested form."
"Thus I relieve thee, my creator, "he said, and placed his hated
hands before my eyes, which I flung from me with violence; "thus I take
from thee a sight which you abhor. Still thou canst listen to me, and grant me
thy compassion. By the virtues that I once possessed, I demand this from you.
Hear my tale; it is long and strange, and the temperature of this place is not
fitting to your fine sensations; come to the hut upon the mountain. The sun is
yet high in the heavens; before it descends to hide itself behind yon snowy
precipices, and illuminate another world, you will have heard my story, and can
decide. On you it rests whether I quit for ever the neighbourhood
of man, and lead a hapless life, or become the scourge of your
fellow-creatures, and the author of your own speedy ruin."
As he said this, he led the way across the ice: I followed. My heart was
full, and I did not answer him; but, as I proceeded, I weighed the various
arguments that he had used, and determined at least to listen to his tale. I
was partly urged by curiosity, and compassion confirmed my resolution. I had
hitherto supposed him to be the murderer of my brother, and I eagerly sought a
confirmation or denial of this opinion. For the first time, also, I felt what
the duties of a creator towards his creature were, and that I ought to render
him happy before I complained of his wickedness. These motives urged me to
comply with his demand. We crossed the ice, therefore, and ascended the
opposite rock. The air was cold, and the rain again began to descend: we
entered the hut, the fiend with an air of exultation, I with a heavy heart and
depressed spirits. But I consented to listen; and, seating myself by the fire
which my odious companion had lighted, he thus began his tale.
Chapter 13
"Every conversation of the cottagers now opened new wonders to me.
While I listened to the instructions which Felix bestowed upon the Arabian, the
strange system of human society was explained to me. I heard of the division of
property, of immense wealth and squalid poverty; of rank, descent, and noble
blood.
"The words induced me to turn towards myself. I learned that the
possessions most esteemed by your fellow-creatures were high and unsullied
descent united with riches. A man might be respected with only one of these
advantages; but, without either, he was considered, except in very rare
instances, as a vagabond and a slave, doomed to waste his powers for the
profits of the chosen few! And what was I? Of my creation and creator I was absolutely
ignorant; but I knew that I possessed no money, no friends, no kind of
property. I was, besides, endued with a figure hideously deformed and
loathsome; I was not even of the same nature as man. I was more agile than
they, and could subsist upon coarser diet; I bore the extremes of heat and cold
with less injury to my frame; my stature far exceeded theirs. When I looked
around, I saw and heard of none like me. Was I then a monster, a blot upon the
earth, from which all men fled, and whom all men disowned?
"I cannot describe to you the agony that these reflections inflicted
upon me: I tried to dispel them, but sorrow only increased with knowledge. Oh,
that I had for ever remained in my native wood, nor known nor felt beyond the
sensations of hunger, thirst, and heat!
"Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to the mind, when it
has once seized on it, like a lichen on the rock. I wished sometimes to shake
off all thought and feeling; but I learned that there was but one means to
overcome the sensation of pain, and that was death--a state which I feared yet
did not understand. I admired virtue and good feelings, and loved the gentle
manners and amiable qualities of my cottagers; but I was shut out from
intercourse with them, except through means which I obtained by stealth, when I
was unseen and unknown, and which rather increased than satisfied the desire I
had of becoming one among my fellows. The gentle words of Agatha, and the
animated smiles of the charming Arabian, were not for me. The mild exhortations
of the old man, and the lively conversation of the loved Felix, were not for
me. Miserable, unhappy wretch!
"Other lessons were impressed upon me even more deeply. I heard of the
difference of sexes; and the birth and growth of children; how the father doated on the smiles of the infant, and the lively sallies
of the older child; how all the life and cares of the mother were wrapped up in
the precious charge; how the mind of youth expanded and gained knowledge; of
brother, sister, and all the various relationships which bind one human being
to another in mutual bonds.
"But where were my friends and relations? No father had watched my
infant days, no mother had blessed me with smiles and caresses; or if they had,
all my past life was now a blot, a blind vacancy in which I distinguished
nothing. From my earliest remembrance I had been as I then was in height and
proportion. I had never yet seen a being resembling me, or who claimed any
intercourse with me. What was I? The question again recurred, to be answered
only with groans.
"I will soon explain to what these feelings tended; but allow me now to
return to the cottagers, whose story excited in me such various feelings of
indignation, delight, and wonder, but which all terminated in additional love
and reverence for my protectors (for so I loved, in an innocent, half painful
self-deceit, to call them).
Chapter 14
"Such was the history of my beloved cottagers. It impressed me deeply.
I learned, from the views of social life which it developed, to admire their
virtues, and to deprecate the vices of mankind.
"As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil; benevolence and
generosity were ever present before me, inciting within me a desire to become
an actor in the busy scene where so many admirable qualities were called forth
and displayed. But, in giving an account of the progress of my intellect, I
must not omit a circumstance which occurred in the beginning of the month of
August of the same year.
"One night, during my accustomed visit to the neighbouring
wood, where I collected my own food, and brought home firing for my protectors,
I found on the ground a leathern portmanteau, containing several articles of
dress and some books. I eagerly seized the prize, and returned with it to my
hovel. Fortunately the books were written in the language the elements of which
I had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of _Paradise Lost_, a volume of _Plutarch's Lives_, and the _Sorrows of Werter_.
The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I now continually
studied and exercised my mind upon these histories, whilst my friends were
employed in their ordinary occupations.
"I can hardly describe to you the effect of these books. They produced
in me an infinity of new images and feelings that sometimes raised me to
ecstasy, but more frequently sunk me into the lowest dejection. In the _Sorrows
of Werter_, besides the interest of its simple and
affecting story, so many opinions are canvassed, and so many lights thrown upon
what had hitherto been to me obscure subjects, that I found in it a
never-ending source of speculation and astonishment. The gentle and domestic
manners it described, combined with lofty sentiments and feelings, which had
for their object something out of self, accorded well with my experience among
my protectors, and with the wants which were for ever alive in my own bosom. But
I thought Werter himself a more divine being than I
had ever beheld or imagined; his character contained no pretension, but it sunk
deep. The disquisitions upon death and suicide were calculated to fill me with
wonder. I did not pretend to enter into the merits of the case, yet I inclined
towards the opinions of the hero, whose extinction I wept, without precisely
understanding it.
"As I read, however, I applied much personally to my own feelings and
condition. I found myself similar, yet at the same time strangely unlike to the
beings concerning whom I read, and to whose conversation I was a listener. I sympathised with, and partly understood them, but I was
unformed in mind; I was dependent on none and related to none. `The path of my
departure was free;' and there was none to lament my annihilation. My person
was hideous and my stature gigantic. What did this mean? Who was I? What was I?
Whence did I come? What was my destination? These questions continually
recurred, but I was unable to solve them.
"The volume of _Plutarch's Lives_, which I
possessed, contained the histories of the first founders of the ancient
republics. This book had a far different effect upon me from the _Sorrows of Werter_. I learned from Werter's
imaginations despondency and gloom: but Plutarch taught me high thoughts; he
elevated me above the wretched sphere of my own reflections to admire and love
the heroes of past ages. Many things I read surpassed my understanding and
experience. I had a very confused knowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of
country, mighty rivers, and boundless seas. But I was perfectly unacquainted
with towns, and large assemblages of men. The cottage of my protectors had been
the only school in which I had studied human nature; but this book developed
new and mightier scenes of action. I read of men concerned in public affairs,
governing or massacring their species. I felt the greatest ardour
for virtue rise within me, and abhorrence for vice, as far as I understood the
signification of those terms, relative as they were, as I applied them, to
pleasure and pain alone. Induced by these feelings, I was of course led to
admire peaceable lawgivers, Numa, Solon, and
Lycurgus, in preference to
"But _Paradise Lost_ excited different and far deeper emotions. I read
it, as I had read the other volumes which had fallen into my hands, as a true
history. It moved every feeling of wonder and awe that the picture of an
omnipotent God warring with his creatures was capable of exciting. I often referred
the several situations, as their similarity struck me, to my own. Like Adam, I
was apparently united by no link to any other being in existence; but his state
was far different from mine in every other respect. He had come forth from the
hands of God a perfect creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial
care of his Creator; he was allowed to converse with, and acquire knowledge
from, beings of a superior nature: but I was wretched, helpless, and alone.
Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition; for often,
like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter gall of envy
rose within me.
[…]
"One day, when the sun shone on the red leaves that strewed the ground,
and diffused cheerfulness, although it denied warmth, Safie,
Agatha, and Felix departed on a long country walk, and the old man, at his own
desire, was left alone in the cottage. When his children had departed, he took
up his guitar, and played several mournful but sweet airs, more sweet and
mournful than I had ever heard him play before. At first his countenance was
illuminated with pleasure, but, as he continued, thoughtfulness and sadness
succeeded; at length, laying aside the instrument, he sat absorbed in
reflection.
"My heart beat quick; this was the hour and moment of trial which would
decide my hopes or realise my fears. The servants
were gone to a neighbouring fair. All was silent in
and around the cottage: it was an excellent opportunity; yet, when I proceeded
to execute my plan, my limbs failed me, and I sank to the ground. Again I rose;
and, exerting all the firmness of which I was master, removed the planks which
I had placed before my hovel to conceal my retreat. The fresh air revived me,
and, with renewed determination, I approached the door of their cottage.
"I knocked. `Who is there?' said the old man--`Come in.'
"I entered; `Pardon this intrusion,' said I: `I am a traveller in want of a little rest; you would greatly
oblige me if you would allow me to remain a few minutes before the fire.'
"`Enter,' said De Lacey; `and I will try in what manner I can relieve
your wants; but, unfortunately, my children are from home, and, as I am blind,
I am afraid I shall find it difficult to procure food for you.'
"`Do not trouble yourself, my kind host, I have food; it is warmth and
rest only that I need.'
"I sat down, and a silence ensued. I knew that every minute was
precious to me, yet I remained irresolute in what manner to commence the
interview; when the old man addressed me--
"`By your language, stranger, I suppose you are my countryman;--are you
French?'
"`No; but I was educated by a French family, and understand that language
only. I am now going to claim the protection of some friends, whom I sincerely
love, and of whose favour I have some hopes.'
"`Are they Germans?'
"`No, they are French. But let us change the subject. I am an unfortunate
and deserted creature; I look around, and I have no relation or friend upon
earth. These amiable people to whom I go have never seen me, and know little of
me. I am full of fears; for if I fail there, I am an outcast in the world for
ever.'
"`Do not despair. To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate; but the
hearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self interest, are full of
brotherly love and charity. Rely, therefore, on your hopes; and if these
friends are good and amiable, do not despair.'
"`They are kind--they are the most excellent creatures in the world;
but, unfortunately, they are prejudiced against me. I have good dispositions;
my life has been hitherto harmless, and in some degree beneficial; but a fatal
prejudice clouds their eyes, and where they ought to see a feeling and kind
friend, they behold only a detestable monster.'
"`That is indeed unfortunate; but if you are really blameless, cannot
you undeceive them?'
"`I am about to undertake that task; and it is on that account that I
feel so many overwhelming terrors. I tenderly love these friends; I have,
unknown to them, been for many months in the habits of daily kindness towards
them; but they believe that I wish to injure them, and it is that prejudice
which I wish to overcome.'
"`Where do these friends reside?'
"`Near this spot.'
"The old man paused, and then continued, `If you will unreservedly
confide to me the particulars of your tale, I perhaps may be of use in
undeceiving them. I am blind, and cannot judge of your countenance, but there
is something in your words which persuades me that you are sincere. I am poor,
and an exile; but it will afford me true pleasure to be in any way serviceable
to a human creature."
"`Excellent man! I thank you, and accept your generous offer. You raise
me from the dust by this kindness; and I trust that, by your aid, I shall not
be driven from the society and sympathy of your fellow-creatures.'
"`Heaven forbid! even if you were really criminal; for that can only
drive you to desperation, and not instigate you to virtue. I also am
unfortunate; I and my family have been condemned, although innocent: judge,
therefore, if I do not feel for your misfortunes.'
"`How can I thank you, my best and only benefactor? From your lips
first have I heard the voice of kindness directed towards me; I shall be for
ever grateful; and your present humanity assures me of success with those
friends whom I am on the point of meeting.'
"`May I know the names and residence of those friends?'
"I paused. This, I thought, was the moment of decision, which was to
rob me of, or bestow happiness on me for ever. I struggled vainly for firmness
sufficient to answer him, but the effort destroyed all my remaining strength; I
sank on the chair, and sobbed aloud. At that moment I heard the steps of my
younger protectors. I had not a moment to lose; but, seizing the hand of the
old man, I cried, `Now is the time!--save and protect me! You and your family
are the friends whom I seek. Do not you desert me in the hour of trial!'
"Great God!' exclaimed the old man, `who are you?'
"At that instant the cottage door was opened, and Felix, Safie, and Agatha entered. Who can describe their horror
and consternation on beholding me? Agatha fainted; and Safie,
unable to attend to her friend, rushed out of the cottage. Felix darted
forward, and with supernatural force tore me from his father, to whose knees I
clung: in a transport of fury, he dashed me to the ground and struck me
violently with a stick. I could have torn him limb from limb, as the lion rends
the antelope. But my heart sunk within me as with bitter sickness, and I
refrained. I saw him on the point of repeating his blow, when, overcome by pain
and anguish, I quitted the cottage and in the general tumult escaped unperceived
to my hovel.
Chapter 16
"Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? Why, in that instant, did I
not extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly bestowed? I
know not; despair had not yet taken possession of me; my feelings were those of
rage and revenge. I could with pleasure have destroyed the cottage and its
inhabitants, and have glutted myself with their shrieks and misery.
"When night came, I quitted my retreat, and wandered in the wood; and
now, no longer restrained by the fear of discovery, I gave vent to my anguish
in fearful howlings. I was like a wild beast that had
broken the toils; destroying the objects that obstructed me, and ranging
through the wood with a stag like swiftness. O! what a miserable night I
passed! the cold stars shone in mockery, and the bare trees waved their
branches above me: now and then the sweet voice of a bird burst forth amidst
the universal stillness. All, save I, were at rest or in enjoyment: I, like the
arch-fiend, bore a hell within me; and, finding myself unsympathised
with, wished to tear up the trees, spread havoc and destruction around me, and
then to have sat down and enjoyed the ruin.
[…]
"I continued for the remainder of the day in my hovel in a state of
utter and stupid despair. My protectors had departed, and had broken the only
link that held me to the world. For the first time the feelings of revenge and
hatred filled my bosom, and I did not strive to control them; but, allowing
myself to be borne away by the stream, I bent my mind towards injury and death.
When I thought of my friends, of the mild voice of De Lacey, the gentle eyes of
Agatha, and the exquisite beauty of the Arabian, these thoughts vanished, and a
gush of tears somewhat soothed me. But again, when I reflected that they had
spurned and deserted me, anger returned, a rage of anger; and, unable to injure
anything human, I turned my fury towards inanimate objects. As night advanced,
I placed a variety of combustibles around the cottage; and, after having
destroyed every vestige of cultivation in the garden, I waited with forced
impatience until the moon had sunk to commence my operations.
"As the night advanced, a fierce wind arose from the woods, and quickly
dispersed the clouds that had loitered in the heavens: the blast tore along
like a mighty avalanche, and produced a kind of insanity in my spirits that
burst all bounds of reason and reflection. I lighted the dry branch of a tree,
and danced with fury around the devoted cottage, my eyes still fixed on the
western horizon, the edge of which the moon nearly touched. A part of its orb
was at length hid, and I waved my brand; it sunk, and, with a loud scream, I
fired the straw, and heath, and bushes, which I had collected. The wind fanned
the fire, and the cottage was quickly enveloped by the flames, which clung to
it, and licked it with their forked and destroying tongues.
"As soon as I was convinced that no assistance could save any part of
the habitation, I quitted the scene and sought for refuge in the woods.
"And now, with the world before me, whither should I bend my steps? I
resolved to fly far from the scene of my misfortunes; but to me, hated and
despised, every country must be equally horrible. At length the thought of you
crossed my mind. I learned from your papers that you were my father, my
creator; and to whom could I apply with more fitness than to him who had given
me life? Among the lessons that Felix had bestowed upon Safie,
geography had not been omitted. I had learned from these the relative
situations of the different countries of the earth. You had mentioned
"But how was I to direct myself? I knew that I must travel in a south
westerly direction to reach my destination; but the sun was my only guide. I
did not know the names of the towns that I was to pass through, nor could I ask
information from a single human being; but I did not despair. From you only
could I hope for succour, although towards you I felt
no sentiment but that of hatred. Unfeeling, heartless creator! you had endowed
me with perceptions and passions, and then cast me abroad an object for the
scorn and horror of mankind. But on you only had I any claim for pity and
redress, and from you I determined to seek that justice which I vainly
attempted to gain from any other being that wore the human form.
"My travels were long, and the sufferings I endured intense. It was
late in autumn when I quitted the district where I had so long resided. I
travelled only at night, fearful of encountering the visage of a human being.
Nature decayed around me, and the sun became heatless; rain and snow poured
around me; mighty rivers were frozen; the surface of the earth was hard, and
chill, and bare, and I found no shelter. Oh, earth! how often did I imprecate
curses on the cause of my being! The mildness of my nature had fled, and all
within me was turned to gall and bitterness. The nearer I approached to your
habitation, the more deeply did I feel the spirit of revenge enkindled in my
heart. Snow fell, and the waters were hardened; but I rested not. A few
incidents now and then directed me, and I possessed a map of the country; but I
often wandered wide from my path. The agony of my feelings allowed me no
respite: no incident occurred from which my rage and misery could not extract
its food; but a circumstance that happened when I arrived on the confines of
Switzerland, when the sun had recovered its warmth, and the earth again began
to look green, confirmed in an especial manner the bitterness and horror of my
feelings.
"I generally rested during the day, and travelled only when I was
secured by night from the view of man. One morning, however, finding that my
path lay through a deep wood, I ventured to continue my journey after the sun
had risen; the day, which was one of the first of spring, cheered even me by
the loveliness of its sunshine and the balminess of the air. I felt emotions of
gentleness and pleasure, that had long appeared dead, revive within me. Half
surprised by the novelty of these sensations, I allowed myself to be borne away
by them; and, forgetting my solitude and deformity, dared to be happy. Soft
tears again bedewed my cheeks, and I even raised my humid eyes with
thankfulness towards the blessed sun which bestowed such joy upon me.
"I continued to wind among the paths of the wood, until I came to its
boundary, which was skirted by a deep and rapid river, into which many of the
trees bent their branches, now budding with the fresh spring. Here I paused,
not exactly knowing what path to pursue, when I heard the sound of voices that
induced me to conceal myself under the shade of a cypress. I was scarcely hid,
when a young girl came running towards the spot where I was concealed,
laughing, as if she ran from some one in sport. She continued her course along
the precipitous sides of the river, when suddenly her foot slipt,
and she fell into the rapid stream. I rushed from my hiding place; and, with
extreme labour from the force of the current, saved
her, and dragged her to shore. She was senseless; and I endeavoured
by every means in my power to restore animation, when I was suddenly
interrupted by the approach of a rustic, who was probably the person from whom
she had playfully fled. On seeing me, he darted towards me, and tearing the
girl from my arms, hastened towards the deeper parts of the wood. I followed
speedily, I hardly knew why; but when the man saw me draw near, he aimed a gun,
which he carried, at my body, and fired. I sunk to the ground, and my injurer,
with increased swiftness, escaped into the wood.
"This was then the reward of my benevolence! I had saved a human being
from destruction, and, as a recompense, I now writhed under the miserable pain
of a wound, which shattered the flesh and bone. The feelings of kindness and
gentleness which I had entertained but a few moments before gave place to
hellish rage and gnashing of teeth. Inflamed by pain, I vowed eternal hatred
and vengeance to all mankind.
From:
http://www.literature.org/authors/shelley-mary/frankenstein/