Франкенштейн, или современный Прометей

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Подготовка текста, комментарии, задания

Н. В. Демидовой

Шелли М.
Франкенштейн, или современный Прометей: Книга для чтения
на англ. яз. — СПб.: КОРОНА принт, КАРО, 2004. — 368 с.

ISBN 57931?????
ISBN 589815????

ISBN 57931?????
© КОРОНА принт, 2004

ISBN 589815????
© КАРО, 2004

FRANKENSTEIN or THE MODERN PROMETHEUS

The event on which this fiction is founded has been sup
posed by Dr. Darwin and some of the physiological writers of
Germany, as not of impossible occurrence. I shall not be supposed as according the remotest degree of serious faith to such
an imagination; yet, in assuming it as the basis of a work of
fancy, I have not considered myself as merely weaving a series of
supernatural terrors. The event on which the interest of the story
depends is exempt from the disadvantages of a mere tale of spectres or enchantment. It was recommended by the novelty of the
situations which it develops, and however impossible as a physical fact, affords a point of view to the imagination for the delineating of human passions more comprehensive and commanding
than any which thee ordinary relations of existing events can yield.

I have thus endeavoured to preserve the truth of the elementa
ry principles of human nature, while I have not scrupled to innovate upon their combinations. The Iliad, the tragic poetry of Greece,
Shakespeare in the Tempest and Midsummer Night’s Dream, and
most especially Milton in Paradise Lost conform to this rule; and
the most humble novelist, who seeks to confer or receive amusement from his labours, may, without presumption, apply to prose
fiction a license, or rather a rule, from the adoption of which so
many exquisite combinations of human feeling have resulted in the
highest specimens of poetry.

The circumstance on which my story rests was suggested in

casual conversation. It was commenced partly as a source of

MARY SHELLEY

amusement, and partly as an expedient for exercising any untried resources of mind. Other motives were mingled with these
as the work proceeded. I am by no means indifferent to the
manner in which whatever moral tendencies exist in the sentiments or characters it contains shall affect the reader; yet my
chief concern in this respect has been limited to the avoiding
the enervating effects of the novels of the present day, and to the
exhibition of the amiableness of domestic affection, and the excellence of universal virtue. The opinions which naturally spring
from the character and situation of the hero are by no means to
be conceived as existing always in my own conviction; nor is
any inference justly to be drawn from the following pages as
prejudicing any philosophical doctrine of whatever kind.

It is a subject also of additional interest to the author that this

story was begun in the majestic region where the scene is principally laid and in society which cannot cease to be regretted. I passed
the summer of 1816 in the environs of Geneva. The season was
cold and rainy, and in the evenings we crowded around a bluing
wood fire and occasionally amused ourselves with some German
stories of ghosts which happened to fall into our hands. These tales
excited in us a playful desire of imitation. Two other friends (a tale
from the pen of one of whom would be far more acceptable to the
public than anything I can ever hope to produce) and myself agreed
to write each a story founded on some supernatural occurrence.

The weather, however, suddenly became serene; and my two

friends left me on a journey among the Alps and lost, in the
magnificent scenes which they present, all memory of their ghostly visions. The following tale is the only one which has been
completed.

Marlow, September, 1817

FRANKENSTEIN or THE MODERN PROMETHEUS

To Mrs. Saville, England

St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17 —

You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accom
panied the commencement of an enterprise which you
have regarded with such 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 a cold 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 vain1 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 sun is forever
visible, its broad disk just skirting the horizon and dif
1 in vain — тщетно

6

MARY SHELLEY

fusing 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 be wafted 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 and to 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 all possible, can only be effected by an undertaking such as mine.

FRANKENSTEIN or THE MODERN PROMETHEUS

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 intellectual eye. 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 in the 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.

MARY SHELLEY

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 captain offered 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 ac
complish 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.

FRANKENSTEIN or THE MODERN PROMETHEUS

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 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 are accustomed to the whalefishing. 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, you will 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

MARY SHELLEY

To Mrs. Saville, England,

Archangel, 28th March, 17 —

How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I

am by frost and snow! Yet a second step is taken towards my enterprise. I have hired a vessel and am occupied in collecting my sailors; those whom I have already
engaged appear to be men on whom I can depend and
are 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 severe evil. I have no friend, Margaret: when
I am glowing with the enthusiasm of success, there will
be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection. I shall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true;
but that is a poor medium for the communication of
feeling. I desire the company of a man who could sympathize with me, whose eyes would reply to mine. You may
deem me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel the
want of a friend. I have no one near me, gentle yet courageous, possessed of a cultivated as well as of a capacious
mind, whose tastes are like my own, to approve or amend
my plans. How would such a friend repair the faults of
your poor brother! I am too ardent in execution and too
impatient of difficulties. But it is a still greater evil to me
that I am self-educated: for the first fourteen years of my

FRANKENSTEIN or THE MODERN PROMETHEUS

life I ran wild on a common and read nothing but our
Uncle Thomas’ books of voyages. At that age I became
acquainted with the celebrated poets of our own country; but it was only when it had ceased to be in my power
to derive its most important benefits from such a conviction that I perceived the necessity of becoming acquainted with more languages than that of my native country.
Now I am twenty-eight and am in reality more illiterate
than many schoolboys of fifteen. It is true that I have
thought more and that my daydreams are more extended
and magnificent, but they want (as the painters call it)
keeping; and I greatly need a friend who would have sense
enough not to despise me as romantic, and affection
enough for me to endeavour to regulate my mind.

Well, these are useless complaints; I shall certainly

find no friend on the wide ocean, nor even here in Archangel, among merchants and seamen. Yet some feelings,
unallied to the dross of human nature, beat even in these
rugged bosoms. My lieutenant, for instance, is a man of
wonderful courage and enterprise; he is madly desirous
of glory: or rather, to word my phrase more characteristically, of advancement in his profession. He is an Englishman, and in the midst of national and professional
prejudices, unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of
the noblest endowments of humanity. I first became
acquainted with him on board a whale vessel; finding
that he was unemployed in this city, I easily engaged
him to assist in my enterprise.

MARY SHELLEY

The master is a person of an excellent disposition

and is remarkable in the ship for his gentleness and the
mildness of his discipline. This circumstance, added to
his well-known integrity and dauntless courage, made
me very desirous to engage him. A youth passed in solitude, my best years spent under your gentle and feminine fosterage, has so refined the groundwork of my
character that I cannot overcome an intense distaste to
the usual brutality exercised on board ship: I have never
believed it to be necessary, and when I heard of a mariner equally noted for his kindliness of heart and the
respect and obedience paid to him by his crew, I felt
myself peculiarly fortunate in being able to secure his
services. I heard of him first in rather a romantic manner, from a lady who owes 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
of the girl consented to the match. He saw his mistress
once before the destined ceremony; but she was bathed
in tears, and throwing herself at his feet, entreated him
to spare her, confessing at the same time that she loved
another, but that he was poor, and that her father would
never consent to the union. My generous friend reassured the suppliant, and on being informed of the name
of her lover, instantly abandoned his pursuit. He had
already bought a farm with his money, on which he had
designed to pass the remainder of his life; but he be