Frankenstein;

or, the Modern Prometheus

by Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley

Letter 1

To Mrs. Saville, England.

St. Petersburg, December 11th.

I have good news. Nothing bad has happened yet on my trip. You worried something might go wrong. But I am safe! I got here yesterday. First, I want to tell you I am well. I feel sure my plan will work.

I am already far north of London. As I walk outside, a cold wind blows on my face. It makes me feel awake and happy. This wind came from the icy places I am going to. It makes me excited to think about them.

People say the North Pole is just ice and cold, empty land. But I imagine it as a beautiful place. I think the sun might shine there all the time, low in the sky, giving soft light all day. Maybe there is no snow or frost there at all! Maybe our ship can sail on calm water to a land more wonderful than any place ever found before. No one knows what we might see there — new plants, new animals, things never seen before. What might we find in a land of endless light?

Maybe I will learn why a compass needle always points north. Maybe I will help scientists understand the stars better. I want to see a part of the world that no person has ever seen. I want to walk where no human foot has ever stepped. These dreams make me brave. I am as excited as a child going on a boat ride with friends.

But even if my dreams about the Pole are wrong, this trip will still help people everywhere. If I find a new path near the North Pole, ships could reach far away countries much faster than they do now. That alone would be worth the trip.

Thinking about this calms me down. Having a strong goal makes my mind feel peaceful. I have dreamed about this trip since I was young. I loved reading about explorers who tried to sail through the icy seas near the North Pole. Do you remember Uncle Thomas's books about sea voyages? I read every one. I loved them so much. It made me sad that Father did not want me to become a sailor. That was his last wish before he died, so Uncle Thomas would not let me go to sea.

Later, I read poems instead. I loved them so much that I tried to become a poet myself. For one year, I lived happily, dreaming I could be as famous as Homer or Shakespeare, two great old poets. But I was not good at it, and I felt very disappointed. Then I got money from my cousin, and I went back to my old dream — exploring.

That was six years ago. I remember exactly when I decided to do this. First, I trained my body to handle hard things. I went on whale-hunting trips in the North Sea. I got used to being cold, hungry, thirsty, and tired. During the day, I worked as hard as the other sailors. At night, I studied math, medicine, and science — things that would help me on my journey. Twice, I worked as a helper on a whale-hunting ship, and I did a good job. My captain even asked me to stay and become his second-in-command! I felt proud.

Now, dear Margaret, don't you think I deserve to do something great? I could have lived an easy, comfortable life. Instead, I chose to seek glory — to do something important. I wish someone would tell me I will succeed! I feel brave and sure, but sometimes I also feel worried. This trip will be long and hard. I will need to stay strong — not just for myself, but to help others stay strong too.

This is the best time of year to travel in Russia. Sleds slide fast over the snow. It feels nicer than riding in an English stagecoach! The cold isn't too bad if you wear warm fur clothes, which I already have. Sitting still for hours in the cold can be dangerous — your blood can get too cold if you don't move. I don't want that to happen to me on the road to Archangel!

In about two or three weeks, I will go to Archangel. There, I will rent a ship and hire sailors who know how to hunt whales. I plan to sail in June. When will I come home? I don't know! If my trip succeeds, it may be months — even years — before we meet again. If it fails... you may see me again soon. Or never.

Goodbye, dear sister. I hope heaven keeps you safe and blesses you. And I hope it keeps me safe too, so I can come back and thank you again for all your love.

Your loving brother,
R. Walton

Letter 2

To Mrs. Saville, England.

Archangel, March 28th.

Time moves so slowly here, surrounded by ice and snow! But I have taken another step toward my journey. I found a ship, and I am hiring sailors. The ones I have chosen seem strong and brave. I believe I can trust them.

But there is one thing I still don't have — a friend. I feel this missing piece strongly. When I succeed, there will be no one to share my joy. When I feel sad, there will be no one to comfort me. I can write down my thoughts, like I'm doing now, but that's not the same as talking to a real friend. I wish I had someone who understood me — someone kind and brave, smart and thoughtful, who liked the same things I do, and could help make my plans even better. Such a friend could help fix my faults. I act too quickly sometimes, and I get impatient when things are hard.

It's also hard because I mostly taught myself. For the first fourteen years of my life, I just played outside and read Uncle Thomas's voyage books. Later, I read great poems from famous writers. But by then, it was too late to learn other important things — like foreign languages. Now I am twenty-eight years old, but I know less than many fifteen-year-old schoolboys! It's true I think about big ideas, and my dreams are grand — but they are messy and not well organized. I really need a friend who wouldn't laugh at my big dreams, but would care about me enough to help me think more clearly.

Well, these are just complaints. I probably won't find a true friend out here on the ocean, or even here in Archangel among sailors and traders. But even rough sailors can have good hearts. My lieutenant, for example, is very brave. He wants to succeed and move up in his job. He's English. Even though he can be a bit rough and not very educated, he still has some fine qualities. I met him on a whale-hunting ship before. When I found out he wasn't working right now, I hired him to help with my trip.

The ship's captain is a very good man. Everyone on the ship likes how gentle and fair he is. Because I grew up gently, cared for by you, I don't like the usual rough and harsh way sailors are often treated. I don't think it's necessary. So when I heard about a captain who was both kind and well-respected by his crew, I felt lucky to hire him.

I first heard about him in a surprising way — from a woman whose happy life he helped create. Here is her story, in short.

Years ago, the captain loved a young Russian woman. He had saved a good amount of money from his sea trips, and her father agreed to let them marry. But right before the wedding, the woman came to him crying. She told him she actually loved someone else — a poor man her father would never approve of. My kind friend, the captain, listened to her. When he found out who she truly loved, he gave up his plan to marry her. He had already bought a farm to live on with his savings. Instead, he gave the farm — and the rest of his money — to the poor man she loved, so they could get married. Then he even went to her father and asked him to allow the marriage between her and the poor man.

But the father said no. He felt he owed a debt of honor to the captain instead...