- Frankenstein - E-Book

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

• Herausgeber: Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2004

Beschreibung

Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus is a novel written by the English author Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley that tells the story of a young science student Victor Frankenstein, who creates a grotesque but sentient creature in an unorthodox scientific experiment. Shelley started writing the story when she was 18, and the first edition of the novel was published anonymously in London in 1818, when she was 20. Shelley's name first appeared on the second edition, published in France in 1823.

Shelley traveled through Europe in 1814, journeying along the River Rhine in Germany with a stop in Gernsheim which is just 17 km (10 mi) away from Frankenstein Castle, where, two centuries before, an alchemist was engaged in experiments. Later, she traveled in the region of Geneva (Switzerland)—where much of the story takes place—and the topic of galvanism and other similar occult ideas were themes of conversation among her companions, particularly her lover and future husband, Percy Shelley. Mary, Percy, Lord Byron and John Polidori decided to have a competition to see who could write the best horror story. After thinking for days, Shelley dreamt about a scientist who created life and was horrified by what he had made; her dream later evolved into the novel's story.

Frankenstein is infused with elements of the Gothic novel and the Romantic movement, and is also considered to be one of the earliest examples of science fiction. Brian Aldiss has argued that it should be considered the first true science fiction story because, in contrast to previous stories with fantastical elements resembling those of later science fiction, the central character "makes a deliberate decision" and "turns to modern experiments in the laboratory" to achieve fantastic results. It has had a considerable influence in literature and popular culture and spawned a complete genre of horror stories, films and plays.

Since the novel's publication, the name "Frankenstein" has often been used to refer to the monster itself, as it is in the stage adaptation by Peggy Webling. This usage is sometimes considered erroneous, but usage commentators regard it as well-established and acceptable. In the novel, the monster is identified by words such as "wretch", "creature", "monster", "demon", and "it". Speaking to Victor Frankenstein, the wretch refers to himself as "the Adam of your labours", and elsewhere as someone who "would have" been "your Adam", but is instead "your fallen angel."

Leseprobe

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus

First digital edition 2017 by Anna Ruggieri

Table of Contents

Letter 1

Letter 2

Letter 3

Letter 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Letter 1

St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17—TO Mrs. Saville, England

You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded withsuch evil forebodings. I arrived here yesterday, and my first task is to assure my dear sister of my welfare and increasing confidence in the success of my undertaking.

I am already far north of London, and as I walk in the streets of Petersburgh, I feel acold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, which braces my nerves and fills me with delight. Do you understand this feeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions towards which I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes. Inspirited by this wind of promise, my daydreams become more fervent and vivid. I try in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seat of frost and desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as the region of beauty and delight. There, Margaret, the sunis forever visible, its broad disk just skirting the horizon and diffusing a perpetual splendour. There—for with your leave, my sister, I will put some trust in preceding navigators—there snow and frost are banished; and, sailing over a calm sea, we may bewafted to a land surpassing in wonders and in beauty every region hitherto discovered on the habitable globe. Its productions and features may be without example, as the phenomena of the heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscovered solitudes. What may not be expected in a country of eternal light? I may there discover the wondrous power which attracts the needle and may regulate a thousand celestial observations that require only this voyage to render their seeming eccentricities consistent forever. I shall satiate my ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world never before visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted by the foot of man. These are my enticements, and they are sufficient to conquer all fear of danger or death andto induce me to commence this laborious voyage with the joy a child feels when he embarks in a little boat, with his holiday mates, on an expedition of discovery up his native river. But supposing all these conjectures to be false, you cannot contest the inestimable benefit which I shall confer on all mankind, to the last generation, by discovering a passage near the pole to those countries, to reach which at present so many months are requisite; or by ascertaining the secret of the magnet, which, if at allpossible, can only be effected by an undertaking such as mine.

These reflections have dispelled the agitation with which I began my letter, and I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me to heaven, for nothing contributes so much to tranquillize the mind as a steady purpose—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectualeye. This expedition has been the favourite dream of my early years. I have read with ardour the accounts of the various voyages which have been made in the prospect of arriving at the North Pacific Ocean through the seas which surround the pole. You may remember that a history of all the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed the whole of our good Uncle Thomas' library. My education was neglected, yet I was passionately fond of reading. These volumes were my study day and night, and my familiarity with them increased that regret which I had felt, as a child, on learning that my father's dying injunction had forbidden my uncle to allow me to embark in a seafaring life.

These visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those poets whose effusions entranced my soul and lifted it to heaven. I also became a poet and for one year lived in a paradise of my own creation; I imagined that I also might obtain a niche inthe temple where the names of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated. You are well acquainted with my failure and how heavily I bore the disappointment. But just at that time I inherited the fortune of my cousin, and my thoughts were turned into the channel of their earlier bent.

Six years have passed since I resolved on my present undertaking. I can, even now, remember the hour from which I dedicated myself to this great enterprise. I commenced by inuring my body to hardship. I accompanied the whale-fishers on several expeditions to the North Sea; I voluntarily endured cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep; I often worked harder than the common sailors during the day and devoted my nights to the study of mathematics, the theory of medicine, and those branches of physical science from which a naval adventurer might derive the greatest practical advantage. Twice I actually hired myself as an under-mate in a Greenland whaler, and acquitted myself to admiration. I must own I felt a little proud when my captainoffered me the second dignity in the vessel and entreated me to remain with the greatest earnestness, so valuable did he consider my services. And now, dear Margaret, do I not deserve to accomplish some great purpose? My life might have been passed in ease and luxury, but I preferred glory to every enticement that wealth placed in my path. Oh, that some encouraging voice would answer in the affirmative! My courage and my resolution is firm; but my hopes fluctuate, and my spirits are often depressed. I am about to proceed on a long and difficult voyage, the emergencies of which will demand all my fortitude: I am required not only to raise the spirits of others, but sometimes to sustain my own, when theirs are failing.

This is the most favourable period for travelling in Russia. They fly quickly over the snow in their sledges; the motion is pleasant, and, in my opinion, far more agreeable than that of an English stagecoach. The cold is not excessive, if you are wrapped in furs—a dress which I have already adopted, for there is a great difference between walking the deck and remaining seated motionless for hours, when no exercise prevents the blood from actually freezing in your veins. I have no ambition to lose my life on the post-road between St. Petersburgh and Archangel. I shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight or three weeks; and my intention is to hire a ship there, which can easily be done by paying the insurance for the owner, and to engage as many sailors as I think necessary among those who areaccustomed to the whale-fishing. I do not intend to sail until the month of June; and when shall I return? Ah, dear sister, how can I answer this question? If I succeed, many, many months, perhaps years, will pass before you and I may meet. If I fail, youwill see me again soon, or never. Farewell, my dear, excellent Margaret.Heaven shower down blessings on you, and save me, that I may again and again testify my gratitude for all your love and kindness.

Your affectionate brother, R. Walton

Letter 2

Archangel, 28th March, 17—To Mrs. Saville, England

How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am by frostand snow! Yet a second step is taken towards my enterprise. I havehired a vessel and am occupied in collecting my sailors; thosewhomI have already engaged appear to be men on whom I can depend andare certainly possessed of dauntless courage.

But I have one want which I have never yet been able to satisfy,and the absence of the object of which I now feel as a most severeevil, Ihave no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with theenthusiasm of success, there will be none to participate my joy; ifI am assailed by disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustainme in dejection. I shall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true;butthat is a poor medium for the communication of feeling. I desirethe company of a man who could sympathize with me, whose eyes wouldreply to mine. You may deem me romantic, my dear sister, but Ibitterly feel the want of a friend. I have no one near me,gentleyet courageous, possessed of a cultivated as well as of a capaciousmind, whose tastes are like my own, to approve or amend my plans.How would such a friend repair the faults of your poor brother! Iam too ardent in execution and too impatient of difficulties. Butit is a still greater evil to me that I am self-educated: for thefirst fourteen years of my life I ran wild on a common and readnothing but our Uncle Thomas' books of voyages. At that age Ibecame acquainted with the celebrated poets ofour own country; butit was only when it had ceased to be in my power to derive its mostimportant benefits from such a conviction that I perceived thenecessity of becoming acquainted with more languages than that ofmy native country. Now I am twenty-eight and am in reality moreilliterate than many schoolboys of fifteen. It is true that I havethought more and that my daydreams are more extended andmagnificent, but they want (as the painters call it) KEEPING; and Igreatly need a friend who would have sense enough not to despise meas romantic, and affection enough for me to endeavour to regulatemy mind. Well, these are useless complaints; I shall certainly findno friend on the wide ocean, nor even here in Archangel, amongmerchants and seamen. Yet some feelings, unallied to the dross ofhumannature, beat even in these rugged bosoms. My lieutenant, forinstance, is a man of wonderful courage and enterprise; he is madlydesirous of glory, or rather, to word my phrase morecharacteristically, of advancement in his profession. He is anEnglishman, and in the midst of national and professionalprejudices, unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of the noblestendowments of humanity. I first became acquainted with him on boarda whale vessel; finding that hewas unemployed in this city, Ieasily engaged him to assist in my enterprise. The master is aperson of an excellent disposition and is remarkable in the shipfor his gentleness and the mildness of his discipline. Thiscircumstance, added to his well-known integrity and dauntlesscourage, made me very desirous to engage him. A youth passed insolitude, my best years spent under your gentle and femininefosterage, has so refined the groundwork of my character that Icannot overcome an intense distaste to the usual brutalityexercised on board ship: I have never believed it to be necessary,and when I heard of a mariner equally noted for his kindliness ofheart and the respect and obedience paid to him by his crew, I feltmyself peculiarly fortunate in beingable to secure his services. Iheard of him first in rather a romantic manner, from a lady whoowes to him the happiness of her life. This, briefly, is his story.Some years ago he loved a young Russian lady of moderate fortune,and having amassed a considerable sum in prize-money, the father ofthe girl consented to the match. He saw his mistress once beforethe destined ceremony; but she was bathed in tears, and throwingherself at his feet, entreated him to spare her, confessing at thesame time that sheloved another, but that he was poor, and that herfather would never consent to the union. My generous friendreassured the suppliant, and on being informed of the name of herlover, instantly abandoned his pursuit. He had already bought afarm with his money, on which he had designed to pass the remainderof his life; but he bestowed the whole on his rival, together withthe remains of his prize-money to purchase stock, and then himselfsolicited the young woman's father to consent to her marriage withher lover. But the old man decidedly refused, thinking himselfbound in honour to my friend, who, when he found the fatherinexorable, quitted his country, nor returned until he heard thathis former mistress was married according to her inclinations."Whata noble fellow!" you will exclaim. He is so; but then he iswholly uneducated: he is as silent as a Turk, and a kind ofignorant carelessness attends him, which, while it renders hisconduct the more astonishing, detracts from the interest andsympathy which otherwise he would command.

Yet do not suppose, because I complain a little or because I canconceive a consolation for my toils which I may never know, that Iam wavering in my resolutions. Those are as fixed as fate, and myvoyage is only now delayeduntil the weather shall permit myembarkation. The winter has been dreadfully severe, but the springpromises well, and it is considered as a remarkably early season,so that perhaps I may sail sooner than I expected. I shall donothing rashly: you know mesufficiently to confide in my prudenceand considerateness whenever the safety of others is committed tomy care.

I cannot describe to you my sensations on the near prospect ofmy undertaking. It is impossible to communicate to you a conceptionof the trembling sensation, half pleasurable and half fearful, withwhich I am preparing to depart. I am going to unexplored regions,to "the land of mist and snow," but I shall kill no albatross;therefore do not be alarmed for my safety or if I should come backtoyou as worn and woeful as the "Ancient Mariner." You will smileat my allusion, but I will disclose a secret. I have oftenattributed my attachment to, my passionateenthusiasm for, thedangerous mysteries of ocean to that production of the mostimaginative of modern poets. There is something at work in my soulwhich I do not understand. I am practicallyindustrious—painstaking, a workman to execute withperseverance and labour—but besides this there is a love forthe marvellous, a belief in the marvellous, intertwined in all myprojects, which hurries me out of the common pathways of men, evento the wild sea and unvisited regions I am about to explore. But toreturn to dearer considerations. Shall I meet you again, afterhaving traversed immense seas, andreturned by the most southerncape of Africa or America? I dare not expect such success, yet Icannot bear to look on the reverse of the picture. Continue for thepresent to write to me by every opportunity: I may receive yourletters on some occasions when I need them most to support myspirits. I love you very tenderly. Remember me with affection,should you never hear from me again.

Your affectionate brother, Robert Walton

Letter 3

July 7th, 17—To Mrs. Saville, England

My dear Sister,

I write a few lines in haste to say that I am safe—andwell advanced on my voyage. This letter will reach England by amerchantman now on its homeward voyage from Archangel; morefortunate than I, who may not see my native land, perhaps, for manyyears. I am, however, in good spirits: my men are bold andapparently firm of purpose, nor do the floating sheets of ice thatcontinually pass us, indicating the dangers of the region towardswhich we are advancing, appear to dismay them. We have alreadyreached a very high latitude; but it is the height of summer, andalthough not so warm as in England, the southern gales, which blowus speedily towards those shores which I so ardently desire toattain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth which I had notexpected.

No incidents have hitherto befallen us that would make a figurein a letter. One or two stiff gales and the springing of a leak areaccidents which experienced navigators scarcely remember to record,and I shall be well content if nothing worse happen to us duringour voyage.

Adieu, my dear Margaret. Be assured that for my own sake, aswell as yours, I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool,persevering, and prudent.

But success SHALL crown my endeavours. Wherefore not? Thus far Ihave gone, tracing asecure way over the pathless seas, the verystars themselves being witnesses and testimonies of my triumph. Whynot still proceed over the untamed yet obedient element? What canstop the determined heart and resolved will of man?

My swelling heart involuntarily pours itself out thus. But Imust finish. Heaven bless my beloved sister!

R.W.