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.Jerking in sudden, violent spasms that the body does not control (kin to convulsion). It names the being's first movement; when Victor wakes from his dream, “every limb became convulsed”.
Frankenstein
Chapter 5 — Teaching Companion
Mary Shelley · Mountaineers 10th–12th
Coaching, not a script — and not an answer key: every question here has more than one defensible answer.
This chapter's big question
What changed when the creature came alive: the creature, or the way Victor sees it?
The tension At the bed curtain the being reaches toward Victor (“one hand was stretched out, seemingly to detain me”) and Victor escapes; hours later Victor collapses, and Clerval stays at his bedside for months as “my only nurse.”
Today's focus
Who runs and who stays: the night Victor leaves the being he made at his bedside, and the months Clerval spends at Victor's.
Two core ideas
- Two figures come to Victor's bedside: the being, reaching out, whom Victor leaves behind, and Clerval, who stays the whole winter.
- From the first morning Victor chooses secrecy: he fears Henry seeing the being even more than seeing it himself, and he cannot bring himself to speak of that night.
The shape at a glance
On a rainy November night, by a candle nearly burnt out, the being Victor has worked on for nearly two years opens a dull yellow eye. The features he chose as beautiful fill him with horror, and he rushes from the room. Asleep at last, he dreams that a kiss turns Elizabeth into his dead mother's corpse, and he wakes to find the being at his bed, holding up the curtain, muttering, grinning and stretching out a hand. He escapes to the courtyard until morning, then hurries through the wet streets, his fear told in lines from Coleridge, until Clerval steps off the Swiss coach and for a moment the horror lifts. Afraid that Henry will see the being, Victor runs ahead and finds his rooms empty; his joy turns to wild laughter and a fit. A nervous fever holds him for months, with Clerval as his only nurse; Victor raves about the being, and Clerval can only guess at “some uncommon and terrible event.” In spring Victor recovers, thanks his friend, and trembles when Clerval raises “one subject,” which turns out to be only a wish that he write home.
A way in
Ask what the student pictured, before reading, for the scene where the being wakes; many readers bring images from films. Then read the chapter's first paragraph aloud together and list what is really there: rain on the panes, a candle nearly burnt out, a dull yellow eye, hard breathing, a convulsive motion. Keep the talk inside the chapter: no lightning, no laboratory switch, and no name for the being (Frankenstein is Victor's own name).
Lesson plan
Retell The student tells the chapter in order, from the dying candle to the letter waiting in spring, and names the one sentence that matters most. Listen for the order of the night (the waking, the dream, the curtain, the courtyard, the dawn walk) and for how quickly the months of fever pass.
Imitate the author After copying the passage, the student writes a short paragraph in its shape: a general claim about people, a plain account of long effort, a turn on “but now”, and a closing sentence of flight.
Debate One side argues that the being changed when it came alive: it moved, opened its eyes and stretched out a hand. The other argues that Victor's way of seeing changed: the features he chose, the dream, the spectre in an empty room. Each side must answer Victor's own line that the body was ugly while unfinished.
Purpose The habit is separating what a narrator saw from what he made of it, and asking whose eyes a story comes through, before judging a man who runs.
Easier Read the paragraph about the face and the paragraph about the curtain aloud together. Talk through discussion questions 1 and 6, then have the student write a thesis and one objection for the last written question.
On level Talk through all six discussion questions, then have the student write both critical-thinking responses, each with a thesis, the strongest objection and a revision.
Harder Have the student trace when Victor calls the being “he” and when he calls it “it”, from “it breathed hard” to “he was ugly then” and “it became a thing”. Then ask whether the pronouns follow what the being does or what Victor feels.
Discussion
- Victor says, “I had selected his features as beautiful.” Some of them still are, like the black hair and the pearly teeth. Yet they “only formed a more horrid contrast”. Why might the beautiful parts make the face look worse?Inference
What it asks Why the features Victor chose as beautiful make the waking face more horrible, and whether the contrast lies in the face itself or in the distance between his plan and what lies in front of him.
One reading
The contrast is in the face: fine hair and teeth beside skin that barely covers the muscles, and eyes almost the colour of their sockets, make the deathly parts stand out, so a half-beautiful face is worse than a plainly ugly one.
His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath
his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they were set
Another reading
The contrast is between the plan and the result: the fine parts are Victor's own choices, so each one reminds him of what he meant to make and measures how far the living face falls short of it.
I had selected his features as beautiful.
the beauty of the dream vanished
Listen for
- Names the fine features and the dead ones, and says what happens when they sit side by side.
- Notices that Victor chose these features himself, and asks whether the horror is in the face or in his disappointed plan.
- Stays with the face as Victor describes it, not with images from films.
If stuck
- Which features does Victor still describe as fine?
- What are the eyes and skin like, set beside the hair and teeth?
- Would a face that was ugly all over be easier or harder to look at?
A strong answer A strong response sets the two lists side by side: the “lustrous black” hair and the “teeth of a pearly whiteness” against eyes almost the colour of their “dun-white sockets” and skin that “scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath”. One reading says the fine parts make the deathly ones stand out, so the horror is in the face itself. Another says the fine parts are Victor's own choices, so each one measures how far the result falls from “the beauty of the dream”. A careful answer weighs both, and notices how closely Victor looks at a face he says he cannot bear.
- Victor wakes from his dream “with horror”. By the light of the moon he sees the being at his bed. How might the dream shape what he makes of the figure at the curtain?Character
What it asks How the dream Victor wakes from colours what he sees at the curtain, and whether the dream makes his seeing or only follows a horror that was already there.
One reading
The dream shapes it: he wakes from holding a corpse in a shroud, and by the moon he sees a corpse too, with eyes he will hardly call eyes; the name he gives the being that night, “demoniacal corpse”, comes from the dream as much as from the face.
a shroud enveloped her form, and I saw the grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel.
his eyes, if eyes they may be called, were fixed on me
the demoniacal corpse to which I had so miserably given life
Another reading
The dream only follows the horror: he had fled the face before he slept, and the dream is what that horror does to his sleep, so the figure at the curtain would look the same to him with or without it.
breathless horror and disgust filled my heart
I slept, indeed, but I was disturbed by the wildest dreams.
Listen for
- Keeps to what Victor makes of the figure; the chapter never says what the being meant by its grin, its sounds or its hand.
- Sets the shroud and the grave-worms beside “if eyes they may be called” and “demoniacal corpse”.
- Notices the order of the night: the horror at the face came first, then the dream, then the curtain.
If stuck
- What is Victor holding at the end of the dream?
- What is the first thing he sees when he wakes, and by what light?
- Without the dream, would the figure at the curtain have looked any different to him?
A strong answer A strong response reads the curtain through the dream. Victor wakes from holding “the corpse of my dead mother”, with “the grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel”, and by the moon he sees a face whose eyes he will hardly call eyes; before the night is out he names the being “the demoniacal corpse”. One reading says the dream hands him the corpse he then sees. Another says the order matters: “breathless horror and disgust” filled him before he slept, so the dream is what the horror did to him, not what made it. A careful answer keeps to Victor's seeing, since the chapter never says what the grin, the sounds or the hand meant.
- At dawn Victor describes his walk with lines from Coleridge's “Ancient Mariner.” In the poem, a walker “turns no more his head” because he “knows a frightful fiend” is close behind. How well do these lines fit Victor that morning?Inference
What it asks How closely the borrowed lines match Victor's dawn walk: the fear and the refusal to look back, and the walker's certainty that a fiend is there.
One reading
The lines fit closely: Victor hurries through the streets afraid to look around, expecting the being at every corner, a hunted man who will not turn his head.
I hurried on with irregular steps, not daring to look about me
as if I sought to avoid the wretch whom I feared every turning of the street would present to my view
Another reading
The lines fit his fear more than his situation: Coleridge's walker knows the fiend is there, but Victor never looks, so he never learns what is behind him, and his rooms turn out to be empty.
Because he knows a frightful fiend
the apartment was empty
Listen for
- Notices that the walker in the poem “knows”, and asks what Victor knows and what he only fears.
- Connects the walker who will not turn his head with Victor “not daring to look about me”.
- Hears “fiend” as one more of Victor's names for the being, and sets it beside what the being has done in this chapter.
If stuck
- What does the walker in the poem refuse to do?
- How does Victor move through the streets?
- Does Victor know what is behind him, or only fear it?
A strong answer A strong response tests the lines against the walk. They fit Victor's body and his fear: he hurries on “not daring to look about me”, expecting the wretch at “every turning of the street”. But Coleridge's walker “knows a frightful fiend” is behind him, while Victor never turns to look, so he never learns what is there; when he finally goes back, “the apartment was empty”. A careful answer might say the lines fit his terror better than his situation, and ask why he tells this part in another man's words.
- As they reach his college, Victor thinks, “I dreaded to behold this monster, but I feared still more that Henry should see him.” Why might the second fear be the stronger one?Character
What it asks Why another person's eyes on the being frighten Victor more than his own, and what that fear shows about the secret he has begun to keep.
One reading
He fears being known: the being is the proof of what he did, and he cannot bear even to speak of the night, let alone have his friend see it.
I could not endure to think of, and far less to allude to, the occurrences of the preceding night.
I have lately been so deeply engaged in one occupation that I have not allowed myself sufficient rest
Another reading
He wants to keep the horror away from Henry, whose arrival brought back his home, his father and Elizabeth, and gave him his first calm in months.
his presence brought back to my thoughts my father, Elizabeth, and all those scenes of home so dear to my recollection
I grasped his hand, and in a moment forgot my horror and misfortune
Listen for
- Separates fear of the being from fear of being found out.
- Notices what Henry brings with him: home, Elizabeth, Victor's father.
- Considers that a second witness might see the being differently than Victor does.
If stuck
- Whom does Henry's arrival bring back to Victor's thoughts?
- What does Victor tell Henry about why he looks so ill?
- What would Henry learn about Victor if he saw the being?
A strong answer A strong response separates two fears. One is the fear of being known: Victor “could not endure to think of, and far less to allude to” the night before, and he tells Henry only that he has been “so deeply engaged in one occupation”. The other is a wish to keep the horror from the friend whose arrival brought back “my father, Elizabeth, and all those scenes of home”. A sharp answer might add that a second witness could test Victor's own account, since Henry would see the being with his own eyes.
- Victor finds his rooms empty. He can hardly believe “so great a good fortune” and claps his hands for joy. Good fortune for whom?Moral reasoning
What it asks Whose good fortune the empty rooms are: a fair relief after a night of terror, or a joy that leaves the newly living being out of account.
One reading
Victor's, and fairly so: after a night of terror he is spared the sight and spared showing Henry what he made, and his joy is so strong it is already half illness.
I could hardly believe that so great a good fortune could have befallen me
It was not joy only that possessed me; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulse beat rapidly.
Another reading
Victor's alone: he calls a being that has harmed no one his enemy, is glad it has gone without asking where, and laughs until his friend is frightened.
when I became assured that my enemy had indeed fled
my loud, unrestrained, heartless laughter frightened and astonished him
Listen for
- Weighs the joy against the night of terror that came before it.
- Notices the word “enemy” and sets it beside what the being has done in this chapter.
- Hears that the joy is “not joy only”: it runs into wild laughter and a fit.
If stuck
- What does Victor expect to find behind the door?
- What does he do when he finds the rooms empty?
- Who gains when the being is gone, and who might not?
A strong answer A strong response asks whose fortune Victor means. For him the empty rooms end a night of terror and spare him from showing Henry what he made, and the joy is so strong that it is “not joy only” but the start of a fever. Yet he calls the being “my enemy” though it has harmed no one, and his “heartless laughter” frightens his friend. A careful answer can grant the relief and still notice what his words leave out: the being, newly alive, has gone, and Victor never asks where.
- On the first night, the being reached toward Victor at his bed, and Victor ran. Through the months of fever after that, “Henry was my only nurse.” What does Shelley gain by putting both of them at Victor's bedside?Plot structure
What it asks What the chapter gains by bringing two figures to Victor's bedside, the being on the first night and Clerval through the winter, and what the contrast shows.
One reading
A moral contrast: Clerval stays and tends a helpless man for months, the care Victor did not give the being when it came to his bed.
one hand was stretched out, seemingly to detain me, but I escaped and rushed downstairs
He knew that I could not have a more kind and attentive nurse than himself
Another reading
A contrast in seeing: one face at the bed is a stranger's that Victor cannot bear, the other a friend's that brings him calm, so the pairing shows how much of his response depends on what a face means to him.
Oh! No mortal could support the horror of that countenance.
I felt suddenly, and for the first time during many months, calm and serene joy.
Listen for
- Sets what the being does at the bed (holds up the curtain, stretches out a hand) beside what Clerval does there (stays).
- Notices that Victor is now the helpless one, cared for through a whole winter.
- Avoids a verdict that Victor is simply cruel; his terror and his illness are real.
If stuck
- Who comes to Victor's bed on the first night, and what does Victor do?
- Who sits by his bed during the fever, and for how long?
- What did Clerval give up in order to stay?
A strong answer A strong response reads the two bedsides against each other. On the first night the being holds up the curtain and stretches out a hand, and Victor escapes; through the winter Clerval stays, giving up the study he came for. One reading hears a moral contrast: Clerval gives Victor the care Victor did not give the being. Another hears a contrast in seeing: of the stranger's face Victor says “No mortal could support the horror of that countenance”, while the friend's face brings “calm and serene joy”. A careful answer weighs both without forgetting that Victor is terrified and ill, not simply cold.
Critical thinking
- At the curtain Victor admits, “He might have spoken, but I did not hear”. Everything we know about the being comes from the man who escaped from it. How far can a reader trust Victor's account of that night?
What it asks To judge the narrator: how much of Victor's account of the waking a reader can accept, given that it comes from the man who ran, and which parts survive that doubt.
One reading
Trust what he reports more than what he makes of it: he sets down the jaws, the sounds and the grin as plain facts, admits what he failed to do, and marks his own reading of the hand as only how it seemed.
His jaws opened, and he muttered some inarticulate sounds, while a grin wrinkled his cheeks.
He might have spoken, but I did not hear
seemingly to detain me
Another reading
Hardly at all: the same man sees things that are not there and raves for months, so terror shapes every line he writes about the being.
I thought I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room
I imagined that the monster seized me
The form of the monster on whom I had bestowed existence was for ever before my eyes, and I raved incessantly concerning him.
Listen for
- A thesis that says how far, not simply yes or no.
- Separates what Victor reports (the face, the sounds, the hand) from what he makes of it (the words “seemingly”, “monster” and “enemy”).
- An objection that takes the close account of the face seriously instead of calling it prejudice.
- A revision that names which parts of the account still stand.
If stuck
- What does Victor admit he did not do at the curtain?
- What does he think he sees when Clerval asks what is wrong?
- Which details of the face could anyone have seen, and which are Victor's judgment?
A strong answer One strong thesis says a reader can trust what Victor saw more than what he made of it. He sets down the jaws, the “inarticulate sounds” and the grin as plain facts, and he admits his own failure: “He might have spoken, but I did not hear”. But every meaning he adds comes through terror: the hand is only “seemingly” meant to detain him, and the same man later thinks he sees “the dreaded spectre glide into the room” when the being is gone. The strongest objection is that a narrator who confesses what he missed is being honest, and honesty earns trust. A revision might hold that his honesty covers his own failures, while the names he gives the being remain his alone.
- Victor had seen the body while it was unfinished, and “he was ugly then”. But once its muscles and joints could move, “it became a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived.” What changed when the creature came alive: the creature, or the way Victor sees it?
What it asks The chapter's big question: whether the horror comes from a real change in the being when it lives and moves, or from a change in how Victor sees what he made, tested against his own admission that the body was ugly while unfinished.
One reading
The creature changed: a still, unfinished body became a breathing, moving one with an open eye, and Victor himself puts the difference down to motion, not to his mood.
when those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived
I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.
Another reading
Victor's seeing changed: he knew the body was ugly and had chosen its features as beautiful, yet he worked on; what vanished at the waking was his dream, and he says himself that feelings change more than events do.
The different accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelings of human nature.
I had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then
Listen for
- A thesis that chooses, or defends a precise mixture, rather than saying both to avoid choosing.
- Uses Victor's own line that the being was ugly before it moved.
- Tests the thesis against the close account of the face and against the dream, the fiend and the spectre.
- A revision that answers the strongest objection with evidence from the chapter.
If stuck
- What did Victor think of the body while it was unfinished?
- What can the being do after it wakes that it could not do before?
- Victor opens one paragraph with a claim about how feelings change. Does the claim fit what happens next?
A strong answer One strong thesis says the change was in Victor. He had chosen the features as beautiful and seen that the body was “ugly” while it lay unfinished, yet worked on; what vanished at the waking was “the beauty of the dream”, and from then on he sees through dread: a corpse in his dream, a fiend behind him, a spectre in an empty room. The strongest objection is Victor's own: motion is a real change, and a breathing body with a “dull yellow eye” and opening jaws is not the still figure that lay at his feet. A revision might grant that coming alive changed the being in one way, by letting it look back at him and stretch out a hand, and argue that Victor's horror answers that change as much as the face. Another student could argue the reverse with equal care, starting from the face.
Vocabulary definitions
- convulsive
- endeavoured
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?
Tried hard, with steady and serious effort; an endeavour is a serious attempt. Here it names the long work of forming the being, done “with such infinite pains and care”.- ardour
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.
Burning eagerness; passionate desire (kin to ardent, from the Latin for burning). In this sentence it measures how much Victor wanted the work: so much that it “far exceeded moderation”.- traversing
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.
Crossing from one side to the other, again and again; here, pacing back and forth across his bedroom because he cannot settle. The word returns at dawn, when he “traversed the streets” without knowing where he was.- impelled
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.
Driven or pushed to act, as if by a force one does not choose (kin to propel and compel, from the Latin for drive). Here it is the push that keeps Victor hurrying through the rain instead of going home.- spectre
I threw the door forcibly open, as children are accustomed to do when they expect a spectre to stand in waiting for them on the other side; but nothing appeared.
A ghost; a frightening shape that appears, or that someone fears will appear (from the Latin for look, as in spectacle). Victor throws open his own door expecting one; soon after, in his fit, he thinks he sees “the dreaded spectre glide into the room”.- recurred
Doubtless my words surprised Henry; he at first believed them to be the wanderings of my disturbed imagination, but the pertinacity with which I continually recurred to the same subject persuaded him that my disorder indeed owed its origin to some uncommon and terrible event.
Came back to, again and again (from the Latin for run back, as in current and occur). In his fever Victor kept returning to one subject, and that returning is what persuades Clerval that the illness began in “some uncommon and terrible event”.