Frankenstein's nervous fever and recovery

Victor Frankenstein's nervous fever and recovery, following the animation of his creature, marks the first major physical and psychological collapse of the novel's protagonist, a crisis that reveals the immediate horror of his creation and establishes the pattern of guilt, illness, and concealment that will define his subsequent life.

The Immediate Collapse

The night of November when Victor first beheld the accomplishment of his toils, he had worked for nearly two years for the sole purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body, depriving himself of rest and health. When the creature's dull yellow eye opened and its limbs convulsed, the beauty of the dream vanished, replaced by breathless horror and disgust. Unable to endure the aspect of the being he had created, Victor rushed out of his room. He slept, but was disturbed by the wildest dreams: he thought he saw Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking in the streets of Ingolstadt; when he embraced her and imprinted the first kiss on her lips, they became livid with the hue of death, and her features changed until he held the corpse of his dead mother in his arms, with grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel. He started from sleep with horror, a cold dew covering his forehead, his teeth chattering, and every limb convulsed, only to behold the miserable monster holding up the curtain of the bed, its eyes fixed on him, its jaws opening to mutter inarticulate sounds while a grin wrinkled its cheeks. Victor escaped and took refuge in the courtyard, walking up and down in the greatest agitation, catching and fearing each sound as if it were to announce the approach of the demoniacal corpse to which he had so miserably given life. He passed the night wretchedly, his pulse beating so quickly and hardly that he felt the palpitation of every artery, then nearly sinking to the ground through languor and extreme weakness, mingling the bitterness of disappointment with his horror.

The Onset of Fever and Clerval's Arrival

The next morning, dismal and wet, Victor issued into the streets, pacing with quick steps, not daring to return to his apartment. He came at length opposite the inn where the Swiss diligence stopped, and at that moment Henry Clerval alighted. Nothing could equal Victor's delight on seeing Clerval; his presence brought back thoughts of his father, Elizabeth, and all those scenes of home so dear to his recollection. Victor grasped his hand and for a moment forgot his horror and misfortune, feeling calm and serene joy for the first time during many months. But Clerval immediately remarked how very ill Victor appeared, so thin and pale, as if he had been watching for several nights. Victor trembled excessively, unable to endure to think of the occurrences of the preceding night. He darted up towards his own room, dreading to behold the monster but fearing still more that Henry should see him. He threw the door forcibly open; the apartment was empty, and his bedroom was freed from its hideous guest. When assured that his enemy had indeed fled, Victor clapped his hands for joy and ran down to Clerval. But he was unable to contain himself; he felt his flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, his pulse beat rapidly, he jumped over chairs, clapped his hands, and laughed aloud. Clerval saw a wildness in his eyes for which he could not account, and his loud, unrestrained, heartless laughter frightened and astonished him. When Clerval asked what was the matter, Victor cried out, putting his hands before his eyes, for he thought he saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room, and fell down in a fit.

The Fever and Clerval's Nursing

This was the commencement of a nervous fever which confined Victor for several months. During all that time Henry was his only nurse. Knowing Victor's father's advanced age and unfitness for so long a journey, and how wretched his sickness would make Elizabeth, Clerval spared them this grief by concealing the extent of the disorder. He knew that Victor could not have a more kind and attentive nurse than himself, and firm in the hope of his recovery, he did not doubt that he performed the kindest action that he could towards them. Victor was in reality very ill, and surely nothing but the unbounded and unremitting attentions of his friend could have restored him to life. The form of the monster on whom he had bestowed existence was forever before his eyes, and he raved incessantly concerning him. Doubtless his words surprised Henry; he at first believed them to be the wanderings of a disturbed imagination, but the pertinacity with which Victor continually recurred to the same subject persuaded him that his disorder indeed owed its origin to some uncommon and terrible event.

Recovery and Aftermath

By very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses that alarmed and grieved his friend, Victor recovered. He remembered the first time he became capable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure: he perceived that the fallen leaves had disappeared and that the young buds were shooting forth from the trees that shaded his window. It was a divine spring, and the season contributed greatly to his convalescence. He felt sentiments of joy and affection revive in his bosom; his gloom disappeared, and in a short time he became as cheerful as before he was attacked by the fatal passion. He expressed the greatest remorse for the disappointment of which he had been the occasion, but Clerval assured him he would be repaid entirely if he got well as fast as he could. Victor's recovery was also marked by a violent antipathy to the name of natural philosophy; the sight of a chemical instrument would renew all the agony of his nervous symptoms. Clerval saw this and removed all his apparatus from his view, and changed his apartment, perceiving that Victor had acquired a dislike for the room which had previously been his laboratory. When Victor visited the professors, M. Waldman inflicted torture when he praised the astonishing progress Victor had made in the sciences, and M. Krempe's harsh blunt encomiums gave him even more pain. Victor could never persuade himself to confide in Clerval the event which was so often present to his recollection, fearing that the detail to another would only impress it more deeply.

Thematic Significance

Victor's nervous fever and recovery establish a recurring pattern in the novel: each traumatic event—the creation of the monster, the deaths of William and Justine, the murder of Clerval, the death of Elizabeth—is followed by a period of physical and mental collapse, often accompanied by fever, delirium, and a retreat into solitude. The illness after the creation is the first such collapse, and it reveals the immediate psychological cost of Victor's ambition. The fever also serves as a narrative device that allows Victor to conceal the truth; his ravings about the monster are dismissed as the wanderings of a disturbed imagination, and he learns that he cannot confess his secret without being thought mad. Clerval's devoted nursing, meanwhile, underscores the contrast between Victor's isolation and the genuine friendship he has abandoned, and it foreshadows the many times Victor will be dependent on others—and will fail to protect them in return.