Faculty of Arts, Chulalongkorn University

Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus

(1818, 1831)

Mary Shelley

(August 30, 1797 – February 1, 1851)

Notes

John Milton, Book X, Paradise Lost (1667) Did I request thee, Maker, from my Clay To mould me Man, did I sollicite thee From darkness to promote me, or here place     745 In this delicious Garden? as my Will Concurd not to my being, it were but right And equal to reduce me to my dust, Desirous to resigne, and render back All I receav'd, unable to performe                      750 Thy terms too hard, by which I was to hold The good I sought not. To the loss of that, Sufficient penaltie, why hast thou added The sense of endless woes?

28  schiavi ognor frementi: Italian, "Slaves forever in a rage." In her revisions Mary Shelley is betrayed into a historical anachronism, for it was only with the Congress of Vienna of 1814–15 that Austria, already given the northeastern section of Italy in 1797, additionally was ceded Lombardy. Its capital, Milan, was thereafter a center of subversive unrest, and many of its leading citizens in the 1820s were convicted of sedition and incarcerated in the infamous Austrian prison of Spielberg. Silvio Pellico's account, Le mie prigioni (My Prisons) was published in 1832, the year after the third edition of Frankenstein, and became a European best-seller. (The Pennsylvania Electronic Edition)

The Publishers of the Standard Novels, in selecting "Frankenstein" for one of their series, expressed a wish that I should furnish them with some account of the origin of the story. I am the more willing to comply, because I shall thus give a general answer to the question, so frequently asked me—"How I, then a young girl, came to think of, and to dilate upon, so very hideous an idea?" [...]

It is not singular that, as the daughter of two persons of distinguished literary celebrity, I should very early in life have thought of writing. As a child I scribbled; and my favourite pastime, during the hours given me for recreation, was to "write stories." Still I had a dearer pleasure than this, which was the formation of castles in the air—the indulging in waking dreams—the following up trains of thought, which had for their subject the formation of a succession of imaginary incidents. My dreams were at once more fantastic and agreeable than my writings. In the latter I was a close imitator—rather doing as others had done, than putting down the suggestions of my own mind. What I wrote was intended at least for one other eye—my childhood's companion and friend; but my dreams were all my own; I accounted for them to nobody; they were my refuge when annoyed—my dearest pleasure when free.

[...]

In the summer of 1816, we visited Switzerland, and became the neighbours of Lord Byron. At first we spent our pleasant hours on the lake, or wandering on its shores; and Lord Byron, who was writing the third canto of Childe Harold, was the only one among us who put his thoughts upon paper. These, as he brought them successively to us, clothed in all the light and harmony of poetry, seemed to stamp as divine the glories of heaven and earth, whose influences we partook with him.

But it proved a wet, ungenial summer, and incessant rain often confined us for days to the house. Some volumes of ghost stories, translated from the German into French, fell into our hands. There was the History of the Inconstant Lover, who, when he thought to clasp the bride to whom he had pledged his vows, found himself in the arms of the pale ghost of her whom he had deserted. There was the tale of the sinful founder of his race, whose miserable doom it was to bestow the kiss of death on all the younger sons of his fated house, just when they reached the age of promise. His gigantic, shadowy form, clothed like the ghost in Hamlet, in complete armour, but with the beaver up, was seen at midnight, by the moon's fitful beams, to advance slowly along the gloomy avenue. [...]

"We will each write a ghost story," said Lord Byron; and his proposition was acceded to. There were four of us. The noble author began a tale, a fragment of which he printed at the end of his poem of Mazeppa. Shelley, more apt to embody ideas and sentiments in the radiance of brilliant imagery, commenced one founded on the experiences of his early life. Poor Polidori had some terrible idea about a skull-headed lady, who was so punished for peeping through a key-hole—what to see I forget—something very shocking and wrong of course; but when she was reduced to a worse condition than the renowned Tom of Coventry, he did not know what to do with her, and was obliged to despatch her to the tomb of the Capulets, the only place for which she was fitted. The illustrious poets also, annoyed by the platitude of prose, speedily relinquished the uncongenial task.

I busied myself to think of a story, —a story to rival those which had excited us to this task. One which would speak to the mysterious fears of our nature, and awaken thrilling horror—one to make the reader dread to look round, to curdle the blood, and quicken the beatings of the heart. If I did not accomplish these things, my ghost story would be unworthy of its name. I thought and pondered—vainly. I felt that blank incapability of invention which is the greatest misery of authorship, when dull Nothing replies to our anxious invocations. Have you thought of a story? I was asked each morning, and each morning I was forced to reply with a mortifying negative.

Every thing must have a beginning, to speak in Sanchean phrase; and that beginning must be linked to something that went before. The Hindoos give the world an elephant to support it, but they make the elephant stand upon a tortoise. Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of void, but out of chaos; the materials must, in the first place, be afforded: it can give form to dark, shapeless substances, but cannot bring into being the substance itself. In all matters of discovery and invention, even of those that appertain to the imagination, we are continually reminded of the story of Columbus and his egg. Invention consists in the capacity of seizing on the capabilities of a subject, and in the power of moulding and fashioning ideas suggested to it.

Many and long were the conversations between Lord Byron and Shelley, to which I was a devout but nearly silent listener. During one of these, various philosophical doctrines were discussed, and among others the nature of the principle of life, and whether there was any probability of its ever being discovered and communicated. They talked of the experiments of Dr. Darwin, (I speak not of what the Doctor really did, or said that he did, but, as more to my purpose, of what was then spoken of as having been done by him,) who preserved a piece of vermicelli in a glass case, till by some extraordinary means it began to move with voluntary motion. Not thus, after all, would life be given. Perhaps a corpse would be re-animated; galvanism had given token of such things: perhaps the component parts of a creature might be manufactured, brought together, and endued with vital warmth.

Night waned upon this talk, and even the witching hour had gone by, before we retired to rest. When I placed my head on my pillow, I did not sleep, nor could I be said to think. My imagination, unbidden, possessed and guided me, gifting the successive images that arose in my mind with a vividness far beyond the usual bounds of reverie. I saw—with shut eyes, but acute mental vision, —I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together. I saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life, and stir with an uneasy, half vital motion. Frightful must it be; for supremely frightful would be the effect of any human endeavour to mock the stupendous mechanism of the Creator of the world. His success would terrify the artist; he would rush away from his odious handywork, horror-stricken. He would hope that, left to itself, the slight spark of life which he had communicated would fade; that this thing, which had received such imperfect animation, would subside into dead matter; and he might sleep in the belief that the silence of the grave would quench for ever the transient existence of the hideous corpse which he had looked upon as the cradle of life. He sleeps; but he is awakened; he opens his eyes; behold the horrid thing stands at his bedside, opening his curtains, and looking on him with yellow, watery, but speculative eyes.

I opened mine in terror. The idea so possessed my mind, that a thrill of fear ran through me, and I wished to exchange the ghastly image of my fancy for the realities around. I see them still; the very room, the dark parquet, the closed shutters, with the moonlight struggling through, and the sense I had that the glassy lake and white high Alps were beyond. I could not so easily get rid of my hideous phantom; still it haunted me. I must try to think of something else. I recurred to my ghost story, my tiresome unlucky ghost story! O! if I could only contrive one which would frighten my reader as I myself had been frightened that night!

Swift as light and as cheering was the idea that broke in upon me. "I have found it! What terrified me will terrify others; and I need only describe the spectre which had haunted my midnight pillow." On the morrow I announced that I had thought of a story. I began that day with the words, It was on a dreary night of November, making only a transcript of the grim terrors of my waking dream.

At first I thought but of a few pages—of a short tale; but Shelley urged me to develope the idea at greater length. I certainly did not owe the suggestion of one incident, nor scarcely of one train of feeling, to my husband, and yet but for his incitement, it would never have taken the form in which it was presented. [...]

—Mary Shelley, "Introduction," Frankenstein (London: Colburn and Bentley, 1831)

[...] It appears that one evening Lord B., Mr. P. B. Shelly, the two ladies and the gentleman before alluded to, after having perused a German work, which was entitled Phantasmagoriana, began relating ghost stories; when his lordship having recited the beginning of Christabel, then unpublished, the whole took so strong a hold of Mr. Shelly’s mind, that he suddenly started up and ran out of the room. The physician and Lord Byron followed, and discovered him leaning against a mantle-piece, with cold drops of perspiration trickling down his face. After having given him something to refresh him, upon enquiring into the cause of his alarm, they found that his wild imagination having pictured to him the bosom of one of the ladies with eyes (which was reported of a lady in the neighbourhood where he lived) he was obliged to leave the room in order to destroy the impression. It was afterwards proposed, in the course of conversation, that each of the company present should write a tale depending upon some supernatural agency, which was undertaken by Lord B., the physician, and Miss M. W. Godwin. [...]

Review Sheet

Characters

Victor Frankenstein – "I, their eldest child, was born at Naples" (27)

Frankenstein's creation – "about eight feet in height, and proportionally large" (43); "one vast hand was extended, in colour and apparent texture like that of a mummy" (180)

Alphonse Frankenstein – Victor Frankenstein's father; "My ancestors had been for many years councillors and syndics; and my father had filled several public situations with honor and reputation" (25)

Caroline Beaufort Frankenstein – Victor Frankenstein's mother (26); daughter of Beaufort (26); "possessed a mind of an uncommon mould; and her courage rose to support her in her adversity. She procured plain work" (26); "her father died in her arms, leaving her an orphan and a beggar" (26)

Elizabeth Lavenza Frankenstein – "the daughter of a Milanese nobleman. Her mother was German, and had died on giving her birth" (28)
Henry Clerval – "I [Victor Frankenstein] united myself in the bonds of the closest friendship to one among them [his schoolfellows]...the son of a merchant of Geneva" (29); "came to the university with the design of making himself complete master of the oriental languages...turned his eyes toward the East, as affording scope for his spirit of enterprise. The Persian, Arabic and Sanskrit languages engaged his attention" (56)
Ernest – "He is now sixteen, and full of activity and spirit. He is desirous to be a true Swiss, and to enter into foreign service" (52)
Justine Moritz – "'Madame Moritz, her mother, was a widow with four children, of whom Justine is the third...when Justine was twelve years of age...[she] came to live at our house" (53); "a great favorite of [Victor Frankenstein's]...if you were in an ill humour, one glance from Justine could dissipate it" (53); "very clever and gentle, and extremely pretty...her mien and her expressions continually remind me [Elizabeth] of my dear aunt" (54)

Robert Walton – "[the North Pole] ever presents itself to my imagination as the region of beauty and delight" (11)

Mrs. Saville, Margaret – Walton's sister (11)
De Lacey – blind; "the name of the old man was De Lacey. He was descended from a good family in France" (100); lived in Paris (100)

Felix De Lacey – De Lacey's son (100)
Agatha De Lacey – De Lacey's daughter (100)
Safie De Lacey – wife of Felix; "the father of Safie had been the cause of their ruin. He was a Turkish merchant...seized and cast into prison the very day that Safie arrived from Constantinople to join him" (100); "her mother was a Christian Arab, seized and made a slave by the Turks; recommended by her beauty" (101)

Beaufort – Caroline's father; "One of his [Victor Frankenstein's father] most intimate friends was a merchant, who from a flourishing state fell through numerous mischances into poverty. This man, whose name was Beaufort, was of a proud and unbending disposition" (25); "My father [Alphonse Frankenstein] loved Beaufort with the truest friendship, and was deeply grieved by his retreat in these unfortunate circumstances" (25)

Places 

the North Pole –

Switzerland

    Geneva –

Germany

    Ingolstadt –

Time 

winter –

    December  – "Dec. 11, 17**" (11)

autumn – "Autumn passed thus. I saw, with surprise and grief, the leaves decay and fall, and Nature again assume the barren and bleak appearance it had worn when I first beheld the woods and the lovely moon" (108)

Vocabulary 

plot

frame

framed narrative; layered narrative

suspense

denouement

setting

narrator(s)

point of view

characters

plausibility

voice

tone

imagery

metaphor

simile

irony

contrast

theme(s)

nature

dreams

science

death

life

love

justice

actions and their consequences

crime(s)

past; present; future

birth; creation; creativity

education

self-reflection

allusion

prior texts

Prometheus

gothic

ghost stories

horror

romanticism

textual criticism

editions; editors; editing

revision

manuscript(s) 

Sample Student Responses to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

Response 1:

Reference 

Links

Stuart Curran, ed., Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus, The Pennsylvania Electronic Edition (includes complete text of 1818 and 1831 editions, variants between them, collation of editions, critical commentary) "Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus," Shelley-Godwin Archive (textual history) Charles E. Robinson, Introduction to The Frankenstein Notebooks (1996) excerpts "Frankenstein: The Afterlife of Shelley's Circle," Biblion "Frankenstein" (essays and galleries) "Mary Shelley: An Unconventional Visionary" A Hyper-Concordance to the Works of Mary W. Shelley, The Victorian Literary Studies Archive, Nagoya University Romanticism Charles Schug, "The Romantic Form of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein," Studies in English Literature, 1500–1900 17.4 (1977) Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Romantic Natural History Fantasmagoriana [Jean-Baptiste Benoît Eyriès,] "La Morte Fiancée," Fantasmagoriana, ou recueil d’histoires d’aparations de spectres, revenans, fantômes, etc., vol. 2 (Paris: F. Schoell, 1812) [Shelley remembers this as "the History of the Inconstant Lover" in her 1831 introduction] [Sarah Elizabeth Brown Utterson,] "The Death-Bride," Tales of the Dead (London: White, Cochrane, and Co., 1813) [translation of "La Morte Fiancée"] Friedrich Schulze, "Die Todtenbraut," 1811, Gespensterbuch (Leipzig: G.J. Göschen, 1813) [German original of the French translation] "Portraits de Famille" [in same volume; Shelley remembers this as "the tale of the sinful founder of his race"] "The Family Portraits," Tales of the Dead (1813) "Fantasmagoriana," British Library Maximiliaan van Woudenberg, "Frankenstein and Fantasmagoriana, Story 4: La Morte Fiancée," Romantic Textualities: Literature and Print Culture, 1780–1840 (2015) On Frankenstein Charles E. Robinson, "Texts in Search of an Editor: Reflections on The Frankenstein Notebooks and on Editorial Authority," Textual Studies and the Common Reader: Essays on Editing Novels and Novelists, ed. Alexander Pettit (2000) William St. Clair, "Frankenstein's Impact," Frankenstein: The 1818 Text, Contexts, Criticism, 2nd ed., ed. J. Paul Hunter (2012) James Rieger, "Dr. Polidori and the Genesis of Frankenstein," Studies in English Literature, 1500–1900 3.4 (1963) Rebecca Dudczak, "A Cultural History of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein," Mount Holyoke College (the modern Prometheus, science, challenging conventions, etc.) Carol J. Adams, "Frankenstein's Vegetarian Monster," The Sexual Politics of Meat: A Feminist-Vegetarian Critical Theory (1990)

 

Media		Frankenstein: Birth of a Monster, BBC Four (2011 documentary; 58:23 min.)
		Frankenstein: The Making of the Monster, Great Books, Discovery Channel (1993 documentary; 50:59 min.)
		The Romantics, dir. Sam Hobkinson, BBC (2011 documentary) Episode 1: Liberty (57:12 min.) Episode 2: Nature (58:07 min.) Episode 3: Eternity (59:00 min.)
		The Story of Prometheus, dir. Mike Harvey, Royal Opera House (2014 animation; 1:57 min.)
		Frankenstein, dir. James Whale, perf. Colin Clive, Mae Clarke, Boris Karloff (1931 film)
		Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, dir. Kenneth Branagh, perf. Robert De Niro, Kenneth Branagh, Helena Bonham Carter (1994 film)
		Frankenstein, dir. Kevin Connor, perf. Luke Goss, Alec Newman, Donald Sutherland (2004 TV mini series)

 

Mary Shelley

Shanon Lawson, "A Chronology of the Life of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley," Romantic Circles (1998) Mrs. Julian Marshall, The Life and Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, 2 vols. (1889)

 

Reference

Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein. 1818, 1831. Surrey: Alma Classics, 2014. Print. [This edition uses the 1831 text.]

Bibliography of Mary Shelley's Work

History of Six Weeks' Tour through a Part of France, Switzerland, Germany, and Holland, with Letters Descriptive of a Sail round the Lake of Geneva, and of the Glaciers of Chamouni. London: T. Hookum, Jr. and C. and J. Ollier, 1817. Print.

• Complete text, University of Adelaide
• Shelley and Mary, History of a Six Weeks’ Tour, Shelley's Ghost: Reshaping the Image of a Literary Family (online exhibition with introduction, selected manuscript scans and transcript)
  

Mathilda. 1819. Ed. Elizabeth Nitchie. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina P, 1959. Print.

• Complete text, Project Gutenberg

Valperga; or, The Life and Adventures of Castruccio, Prince of Lucca. 3 vols. London: G. and W. B. Whittaker, 1823. Print.

• Complete text, University of Adelaide

Tales and Stories by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. Introd. Richard Garnett. London: William Paterson, 1891.

• John Wilson Croker, Review, The Quarterly Review 36 (1818)
• La Belle Assemblée (1818)
• Walter Scott, "Remarks on Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus: A Novel," Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine (1818)
• The British Critic (1818)
• Percy Bysshe Shelley, "On Frankenstein," The Athenæum: Journal of English and Foreign Literature, Science, and the Fine Arts 263 (1832; study questions)
  

Further Reading

Bennett, Betty T., and Stuart Curran, eds. Mary Shelley in Her Times. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 2000.

Bennett, Betty, T., and Mary Shelley. "'The Science of Letters': Six Unpublished Mary Shelley Letters." Keats-Shelley Journal 50 (2001): 27–34.

Pollin, Burton, R. "Philosophical and Literary Sources of Frankenstein." Comparative Literature 17.2 (1965): 97–108.

Robinson, Charles E. "Texts in Search of an Editor: Reflections on The Frankenstein Notebooks and on Editorial Authority." Textual Studies and the Common Reader: Essays on Editing Novels and Novelists. Ed. Alexander Pettit. Athens: U of Georgia P, 2000. Print.

Seymour, Miranda. Mary Shelley. New York: Grove Press, 2001. Print.

St. Clair, William. "Frankenstein." The Reading Nation in the Romantic Period. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2004. Print.

Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein: The 1818 Text, Contexts, Criticism. 2^nd ed. Ed. J. Paul Hunter. New York: Norton, 2012. Print.

Shelley, Mary. "The False Rhyme." Collected Tales and Stories with Original Engravings. Ed. Charles E. Robinson. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1976. Print.

Smith, Johanna. Mary Shelley. New York: Prentice-Hall, 1996. Print.

The Cambridge Companion to Mary Shelley. Ed. Esther Schor. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003. Print.

Wollestonecraft, Mary. A Short Residence in Sweden, Norway and Denmark and Memoirs of Mary Wollstonecraft by William Godwin. Ed. Richard Holmes. London: Penguin, 1987. Print.

Home  |  Literary Terms  |  English Help  

Last updated May 1, 2017