Reading Help Frankenstein Ch.1-9
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 `
` continually sought the attainment of one object of pursuit and was `
` solely wrapped 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 improvements, 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 minutiae 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 desire 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 organization; 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 hindrance 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 realize. 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 eyeballs were starting from `
` their sockets in attending to the details of my employment. The `
` dissecting room and the slaughter-house 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 moralizing 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 `
`
` 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 `
` continually sought the attainment of one object of pursuit and was `
` solely wrapped 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 improvements, 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 minutiae 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 desire 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 organization; 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 hindrance 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 realize. 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 eyeballs were starting from `
` their sockets in attending to the details of my employment. The `
` dissecting room and the slaughter-house 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 moralizing 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 `
`