Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus
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 IV.
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 enquirers 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 enquiries 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 heart-felt 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 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 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 enquiries. 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 minutiæ 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 enquiries 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