Frankenstein’s Monster

Hello and welcome to this very special Halloween-themed episode of Fab Figmentals. 

I’m Lindsey Morse, your guide through the realm of curious creatures, magical monsters, and beautiful beasts. Each episode, we dive into the folklore and history of a different legendary creature and share a story about it. And, as promised, all throughout the month of October we’ll be focusing on some of Halloween’s most famous monsters. 

But before we kick things off, I have a quick announcement to share! This week, I’m moonlighting as a guest movie reviewer for One Movie Punch, a daily movie review podcast that reviews movies old and new. I stepped in to review one of my favorite horror movies of all time, Scream, and I had an incredible time. You’ll find One Movie Punch wherever you get your podcasts, and I’ll include links to the show in our show notes. Check it out to see what I had to say about this cult classic, and stay tuned after the show to hear a promo for One Movie Punch.

Now.

We’re kicking off our Halloween-themed October episodes by looking at Frankenstein, or— more accurately— Dr. Frankenstein’s monster. 

If you took a random poll asking people what Frankenstein’s monster looks like, I’m certain most people would immediately start describing the large, green-hued creature with neck bolts and a flat-top black & white hairdo, that was made famous by the hit 1931 film. This is the Frankenstein that usually inspires Halloween costumes— can you really imagine a Frankenstein costume without green skin?— but the creature was originally envisioned rather differently. 

Frankenstein is the brainchild of Mary Shelley, who crafted her horror novel masterpiece in 1818. According to Shelley, the monster is stitched together from different pieces collected from various specimens. Beautiful pieces, we’re told, that when put together aren’t actually beautiful at all— altogether, they have an unsettling effect that’s gruesome and horrible. And Shelley’s monster isn’t green, but instead has a yellow-ish pallor— which, for me, conjures thoughts of sickness and death. 

And this is the monster I want to explore in today’s episode, so we’re going straight to the source. Our story today is an excerpt from Chapter 5 of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. In this scene, perhaps the most famous in the entire novel, Dr. Frankenstein is finally successful in bringing his creation to life, and he is immediately repelled by that which he has made. 

This week, I’ve invited Niall Cooper, the host of our sister show, Assassinations Podcast, to read for us. Stay tuned at the end of the episode for more information about his show.

Now, let’s join Dr. Frankenstein. It’s nighttime there, and he’s working late in his laboratory. 

Take it away, Niall. 

———————

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 bed-chamber, 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 Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking in the streets of Ingolstadt. Delighted and surprised, I embraced her, but as I imprinted the first kiss on her lips, they became livid with the hue of death; her features appeared to change, and I thought that I held the corpse of my dead mother in my arms; a shroud enveloped her form, and I saw the grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel. I started from my sleep with horror; a cold dew covered my forehead, my teeth chattered, and every limb became convulsed; when, by the dim and yellow light of the moon, as it forced its way through the window shutters, I beheld the wretch–the miserable monster whom I had created. He held up the curtain of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes they may be called, were fixed on me. His jaws opened, and he muttered some inarticulate sounds, while a grin wrinkled his cheeks. He might have spoken, but I did not hear; one hand was stretched out, seemingly to detain me, but I escaped and rushed downstairs. I took refuge in the courtyard belonging to the house which I inhabited, where I remained during the rest of the night, walking up and down in the greatest agitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound as if it were to announce the approach of the demoniacal corpse to which I had so miserably given life.

Oh! No mortal could support the horror of that countenance. A mummy again endued with animation could not be so hideous as that wretch. I had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then, but when those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived.

I passed the night wretchedly. Sometimes my pulse beat so quickly and hardly that I felt the palpitation of every artery; at others, I nearly sank to the ground through languor and extreme weakness. Mingled with this horror, I felt the bitterness of disappointment; dreams that had been my food and pleasant rest for so long a space were now become a hell to me; and the change was so rapid, the overthrow so complete!

Morning, dismal and wet, at length dawned and discovered to my sleepless and aching eyes the church of Ingolstadt, its white steeple and clock, which indicated the sixth hour. The porter opened the gates of the court, which had that night been my asylum, and I issued into the streets, pacing them with quick steps, as if I sought to avoid the wretch whom I feared every turning of the street would present to my view. I did not dare return to the apartment which I inhabited, but felt impelled to hurry on, although drenched by the rain which poured from a black and comfortless sky.

I continued walking in this manner for some time, endeavouring by bodily exercise to ease the load that weighed upon my mind. I traversed the streets without any clear conception of where I was or what I was doing. My heart palpitated in the sickness of fear, and I hurried on with irregular steps, not daring to look about me:

 Like one who, on a lonely road,

 Doth walk in fear and dread,

 And, having once turned round, walks on,

 And turns no more his head;

 Because he knows a frightful fiend

 Doth close behind him tread.

————-

Thank you, Niall, that was wonderful. And for anyone curious, that lovely bit of poetry at the end is from Coleridge’s “Rime of the Ancient Mariner.” I love that Shelley chose to end this passage by including it; so perfect. 

Before we look more at the creature, I’d like to talk about how Frankenstein came to be— because it’s a wonderful story.

In the summer of 1816, Mary Shelley, aged 18, went on a trip to Switzerland with Percy Bysshe Shelley, her then lover who would later become her husband. They visited Lord Byron at his rented villa near Lake Geneva, and they had initially planned to fill their days by partaking in all sorts of summer holiday activities; however, these plans were curtailed due to unseasonably cold weather that resulted from a massive volcanic eruption that had taken place in the Philippines the previous year. 1816 was later given the ominous nickname “the year without a summer.” 

Stuck indoors, Mary, Percy, and Lord Byron sat by the fire and read ghost stories, when one of them was struck by an idea: what if they were to each craft their own ghost story? 

For days, Mary struggled to come up with an idea for her tale. Each morning, the two men would ask her if she’d yet started her story, and again and again she was forced to admit that she had not.

Then one evening, the conversation turned to science and medicine, and the party wondered together if it might be possible to re-animate a corpse. Mary’s mind went immediately to the idea of galvanism, an effect identified in 1786, which spawned from experiments involving electricity and dissected animals. Luigi Galvani, for whom the effect is named, discovered that muscles could be forced to contract when stimulated by an electric current.

Mary retired to bed, but she could not sleep. Inspired by the evening’s conversation, her curious mind started working. And Frankenstein was born.

Just as the appearance of Frankenstein’s monster has changed over time, so has the story of his creation. In the novel, we aren’t given details regarding the process of animation— Shelley may have been inspired by the idea of galvanism, but she stops short of explaining just how electricity may have had a hand in bringing the creature to life. Later films, however, make this connection clear, leading to some modern-day assumptions that the monster is awakened with the assistance of high-tech electrical equipment or perhaps a lightening strike.

One of the most resounding parts of the Frankenstein story, and the obvious reason for the monster being incorrectly called by his creator’s name, is that he is never given one of his own. 

In speaking about her novel, Shelley has called the monster “Adam,” a reference to the first man created by god. But unlike the first human in the garden of eden, Frankenstein’s creature is not embraced by his creator, but shunned. He is unloved and unnamed— a horrible thing for any child.

In her introduction to the 1831 edition of Frankenstein, Shelley wrote about how she envisioned the creation of the monster:

I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together. I saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life, and stir with an uneasy, half vital motion. Frightful must it be; for supremely frightful would be the effect of any human endeavour to mock the stupendous mechanism of the Creator of the world.

Shelley seemed struck by the idea that any creature animated by man, and not god, would be a horrible knockoff. It would be terrible to behold— a child borne out of sacrilege; an affront to the creator. 

But it’s not just the monster’s appearance that terrifies and resonates with audiences to this day. It’s also the understanding that man is capable of great and terrible things, and that our own creations might ultimately lead to our downfall.

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Thank you so much for tuning in to this episode of Fab Figmentals!

Research, writing, and sound editing are done by me, Lindsey Morse. Niall Cooper assists with writing and editing, and was also our guest storyteller for this week. Our theme music was created by the wonderfully talented Graeme Ronald. 

New episodes drop every Wednesday. Make sure to subscribe to the show to get new episodes as soon as they’re available.

If you’re enjoying the show, please consider supporting us on Patreon. You’ll find a link to our Patreon page on our website, FabFigmentals.com. We have bonus content and stories available for supporters, and we’re grateful for any amount you’re able to give. 

If you like learning about creatures that lurk in the shadows, perhaps you’d be interested in learning more about humanity’s darker side. If so, please also check out our sister show, Assassinations Podcast. Stay tuned after the credits to hear a promo for this show, as well as one for One Movie Punch. 

Thanks again for listening, and I hope you’ll join me next week, when we continue our October exploration of some of Halloween’s most famous monsters. Get ready to talk silver bullets, full moons, and shapeshifting because our next episode is all about werewolves. 

We’ll see you next time.