by Mary Shelley
Your affectionate brother,
ROBERT WALTON.36
18. Known today as Arkhangelsk, situated on the White Sea, it was the chief seaport of Russia until 1704. In 1693, Peter the Great established a state shipyard there, emphasizing its importance, but in 1704, after conquering territory on the Baltic and realizing that weather conditions severely limited year-round access to Arkhangelsk, he founded St. Petersburg. See note 4, above. In 1722, in order to shift international trade to that port, Peter prohibited Arkhangelsk from importing goods that exceeded its own needs. Although this prohibition lapsed in 1762, by the late eighteenth century, the Baltic trade far exceeded the northern commerce, and Arkhangelsk fell into minor importance until the railways made it a center for the export of timber. Today, with modern ice-breaking, it is again a major seaport.
Tobias George Smollett described Archangel in 1768 as “rich, populous, and built in the modern taste. … The houses … are generally of wood, but well contrived; and every chamber is provided with a stove, as a fence against the cold, which is here excessive in the winter. The streets are paved with broken pieces of timber and rubbish, disposed so unskillfully, that one cannot walk over it without running the risk of falling, except when the streets are rendered smooth and equal by the snow that falls and freezes in the winter. Notwithstanding the severity of the cold in this place, there is always plenty of good provisions; butcher’s meat, poultry, wild fowl, and fish, in great variety, are sold surprisingly cheap” (Smollett, The Present State of All Nations: A Geographical, Natural, Commercial, and Political History of All the Countries in the Known World [London, 1768], Vol. 1, 355–57, https://goo.gl/PeV1CI).
19. The year would have been 1799, by our reckoning.
20. How poorly Walton knew his men—see text accompanying note 37, Volume III, Chapter VII, below.
21. “Sympathy” is mentioned more than thirty-five times in Frankenstein. Certainly, “sympathy” may mean the capacity to experience the feelings of another, but it also means a magical or mechanical connection. Objects said to be in sympathy with each another (for example, a voodoo doll and subject) share experiences (for example, pinpricks) or move together (iron and a lodestone, or the moon and the tides). Lovers and twins were said to be in “sympathy” with each other as well. As science progressed in the eighteenth century, mechanical explanations for such “sympathy” were proffered.
22. The communal open space of the village.
23. What languages did Walton speak? German, Spanish, French? If he hoped to successfully captain a ship, then certainly a rough vocabulary in the Romance languages so common among the world’s commercial sailors and naval crews would have been useful. Perhaps he also studied Latin and classical Greek, though if he had mastered those, he would not term himself “illiterate.” However, it does not appear that he spoke either Russian or any of the Scandinavian languages and so would likely have been isolated from his crew.
24. Walton was born, we calculate, in late 1770 or early 1771.
25. “An attention to the proper subserviency of tone and colour in every part of a picture, so that the general effect is harmonious to the eye. When this is unattended to, a harshness is produced, which gives improper isolation to individual parts, and the picture is said to be out of keeping,” Frederick William Fairholt, A Dictionary of Terms in Art (London: Strahan & Co., ca. 1854).
26. In the 1831 edition, the text continues: “or rather, to word my phrase more characteristically, of advancement in his profession.” The lieutenant is only mentioned again in Volume I, Letter IV and apparently plays no part in the eventual near-mutiny of Walton’s men. This emendation begins Mary Shelley’s seeming though unadmitted efforts, in response to various critics, to make the 1831 edition more of a “moral” tale.
27. Although “master” was common usage for the ship’s captain (only military vessels had “captains”), it appears here that the “lieutenant” is the person to whom Walton refers as the “master.” This is made evident by the omission of this sentence in the 1831 edition, so that the description of the man’s characteristics plainly applies to the “lieutenant.”
28. The Thomas Text omits this sentence and replaces it with: “I will relate to you an anecdote of his life, recounted to me by the parties themselves, which exemplifies the generosity, I had almost said the heroism of his nature.” This and the previous sentence have been omitted from the 1831 edition and replaced with the following passage: “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.” By having Walton expand on the virtues of the lieutenant, Mary Shelley softens the picture of him that develops in the 1818 edition, of a young man himself “madly desirous for glory,” in sympathy with the obsessed Victor Frankenstein and later seen to be heedless of his crew’s desire to return home. Interestingly, the passage emphasizes the mothering that he received from his sister, not unlike the influence of Elizabeth on Victor.
29. “Some years ago” places the events described in Walton’s story in the 1780s or early 1790s. The laws of England and most other nations made captured ships of belligerents in war legally the property of the government. As an incentive for capture, it was customary for the value of the ship and its cargo to be given to the captain who had seized the vessel for distribution to his crew. This applied whether the captor was a military vessel or a privateer. The lieutenant, then, was part of the crew of a ship in the 1780s, most likely either a vessel of the British navy or a privateer that captured an American vessel during the Revolutionary War.
30. The phrase following, up to the word “But” that begins the next sentence, is omitted in the 1831 edition, and the following is added: “is wholly uneducated: he is as silent as a Turk, and a kind of ignorant carelessness attends him, which, while it renders his conduct the more astonishing, detracts from the interest and sympathy which otherwise he would command. Yet[.]” Here Mary Shelley inserts an explanation as to why Walton requires a friendship with Victor, to satisfy needs unsatisfied by this otherwise exemplary crew member.
Illustration from a German edition of Coleridge’s “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by Gustave Doré (1877).
31. Lines of rope attached to masts to keep them steady. The Thomas Text makes this less obscure, referring to “the ship and the crew.”
32. Either Walton is a very poor judge of his own character or suffers a great change in personality, for nothing could be further from the truth with regards to his eventual treatment of his crew. See text accompanying note 37, Volume III, Chapter VII, below.
33. Of course not—the albatross is not found in the North Atlantic.
“The land of mist and snow” is referred to in Coleridge’s “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” first published in 1798; the Mariner kills an albatross and suffers from the curse superstitiously attributed to such slayings. The date of first publication of the poem confirms that Walton is writing in March 1799, as will be seen.
34. In case any reader has missed the subtle allusion to Coleridge’s work, the following has been added in the 1831 edition: “or if I should come back to you as worn and woeful as the ‘Ancient Mariner.’ You will smile at my allusion, but I will disclose a secret. I have often attributed my attachment to, my passionate enthusiasm for, the dangerous mysteries of ocean to that production of the most imaginative of modern poets. There is something at work in my soul which I do not understand. I am practically industrious—p
ainstaking, a workman to execute with perseverance and labour—but besides this there is a love for the marvellous, a belief in the marvellous, intertwined in all my projects, which hurries me out of the common pathways of men, even to the wild sea and unvisited regions I am about to explore. But to return to dearer considerations.”
35. This would indeed be quite a voyage, from the northernmost extremes of the globe to the southern passages of Cape of Good Hope or Cape Horn, but Walton is likely being figurative rather than suggesting an actual itinerary.
36. Note the more formal signature, as is appropriate for what Walton believes may be his final letter to his sister.
LETTER III
To Mrs. SAVILLE, England
July 7th, 17—.37
MY DEAR SISTER,
I WRITE a few lines in haste, to say that I am safe, and well advanced on my voyage. This letter will reach England by a merchant-man38 now on its homeward voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not see my native land, perhaps, for many years. I am, however, in good spirits: my men are bold, and apparently firm of purpose;39 nor do the floating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the dangers of the region towards which we are advancing, appear to dismay them. We have already reached a very high latitude; but it is the height of summer, and although not so warm as in England, the southern gales, which blow us speedily towards those shores which I so ardently desire to attain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth which I had not expected.
No incidents have hitherto befallen us, that would make a figure in a letter. One or two stiff gales, and the breaking of a mast,40 are accidents which experienced navigators scarcely remember to record; and I shall be well content, if nothing worse happen to us during our voyage.
Adieu, my dear Margaret. Be assured, that for my own sake, as well as yours, I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool, persevering, and prudent.
Remember me to all my English friends.41
Most affectionately yours,
R. W.42
37. Again, this is 1799.
38. A ship built for commerce rather than warfare.
39. This has been rewritten in the Thomas Text: “the crew is gallant fellows, & I am firm of purpose …”
40. The phrase “breaking of a mast” has been replaced with “springing of a leak” in the 1831 edition. Perhaps the image was too painful for Mary Shelley, reminding her of Percy’s drowning (see Foreword, text following note 56, above).
41. This admonition and the signature block of the letter are omitted in the 1831 edition, and the following is substituted:
But success SHALL crown my endeavours. Wherefore not? Thus far I have gone, tracing a secure way over the pathless seas, the very stars themselves being witnesses and testimonies of my triumph. Why not still proceed over the untamed yet obedient element? What can stop the determined heart and resolved will of man?
My swelling heart involuntarily pours itself out thus. But I must finish. Heaven bless my beloved sister!
R.W.
And so Shelley more clearly establishes Walton as a driven adventurer whose hubris resembles that of Victor Frankenstein; he is not a passive recorder of Victor’s history.
42. An abbreviated signature, indicating haste.
LETTER IV
To Mrs. Saville, England.
August 5th, 17—.
So strange an accident has happened to us, that I cannot forbear recording it, although it is very probable that you will see me before these papers can come into your possession.
Last Monday (July 31st),43 we were nearly surrounded by ice, which closed in the ship on all sides, scarcely leaving her the sea room in which she floated.44 Our situation was somewhat dangerous, especially as we were compassed round by a very thick fog.45 We accordingly lay to, hoping that some change would take place in the atmosphere and weather.
About two o’clock46 the mist cleared away, and we beheld, stretched out in every direction, vast and irregular plains of ice, which seemed to have no end. Some of my comrades groaned, and my own mind began to grow watchful with anxious thoughts, when a strange sight suddenly attracted our attention, and diverted our solicitude from our own situation. We perceived a low carriage, fixed on a sledge and drawn by dogs, pass on towards the north, at the distance of half a mile: a being which had the shape of a man, but apparently of gigantic stature, sat in the sledge, and guided the dogs. We watched the rapid progress of the traveller with our telescopes, until he was lost among the distant inequalities of the ice.
The Endurance stuck in the ice, 1915, photo by expedition photographer Frank Hurley.
This appearance excited our unqualified wonder. We were, as we believed, many hundred miles from any land; but this apparition seemed to denote that it was not, in reality, so distant as we had supposed. Shut in, however, by ice, it was impossible to follow his track, which we had observed with the greatest attention.47
About two hours after this occurrence, we heard the ground sea;48 and before night the ice broke, and freed our ship. We, however, lay to until the morning, fearing to encounter in the dark those large loose masses which float about after the breaking up of the ice. I profited of this time to rest for a few hours.
In the morning, however, as soon as it was light, I went upon deck, and found all the sailors busy on one side of the vessel, apparently talking to some one in the sea. It was, in fact, a sledge, like that we had seen before, which had drifted towards us in the night, on a large fragment of ice. Only one dog remained alive;49 but there was a human being within it, whom the sailors were persuading to enter the vessel. He was not, as the other traveller seemed to be, a savage inhabitant of some undiscovered island, but an European. When I appeared on deck, the master said, “Here is our captain, and he will not allow you to perish on the open sea.”
On perceiving me, the stranger addressed me in English, although with a foreign accent.50 “Before I come on board your vessel,” said he, “will you have the kindness to inform me whither you are bound?”
You may conceive my astonishment on hearing such a question addressed to me from a man on the brink of destruction, and to whom I should have supposed that my vessel would have been a resource which he would not have exchanged for the most precious wealth the earth can afford. I replied, however, that we were on a voyage of discovery towards the northern pole.
Upon hearing this he appeared satisfied, and consented to come on board. Good God! Margaret, if you had seen the man who thus capitulated for his safety, your surprise would have been boundless. His limbs were nearly frozen, and his body dreadfully emaciated by fatigue and suffering. I never saw a man in so wretched a condition. We attempted to carry him into the cabin; but as soon as he had quitted the fresh air, he fainted. We accordingly brought him back to the deck, and restored him to animation by rubbing him with brandy,51 and forcing him to swallow a small quantity. As soon as he shewed signs of life, we wrapped him up in blankets, and placed him near the chimney of the kitchen-stove. By slow degrees he recovered, and ate a little soup, which restored him wonderfully.
Two days passed in this manner before he was able to speak; and I often feared that his sufferings had deprived him of understanding. When he had in some measure recovered, I removed him to my own cabin, and attended on him as much as my duty would permit. I never saw a more interesting creature: his eyes have generally an expression of wildness, and even madness; but there are moments when, if any one performs an act of kindness towards him, or does him any the most trifling service, his whole countenance is lighted up, as it were, with a beam of benevolence and sweetness that I never saw equalled. But he is generally melancholy and despairing; and sometimes he gnashes his teeth, as if impatient of the weight of woes that oppresses him.
When my guest was a little recovered, I had great trouble to keep off the men, who wished to ask him a thousand questions; but I would not allow him to be tormented by their idle curiosity, in a state of body and mind whose restoration evidently dep
ended upon entire repose. Once, however, the lieutenant asked, Why he had come so far upon the ice in so strange a vehicle?
His countenance instantly assumed an aspect of the deepest gloom; and he replied, “To seek one who fled from me.”
“And did the man whom you pursued travel in the same fashion?”
“Yes.”
“Then I fancy we have seen him; for, the day before we picked you up, we saw some dogs drawing a sledge, with a man in it, across the ice.”
This aroused the stranger’s attention; and he asked a multitude of questions concerning the route which the daemon, as he called him, had pursued. Soon after, when he was alone with me, he said, “I have, doubtless, excited your curiosity, as well as that of these good people; but you are too considerate to make inquiries.”
“Certainly; it would indeed be very impertinent and inhuman in me to trouble you with any inquisitiveness of mine.”
“And yet you rescued me from a strange and perilous situation; you have benevolently restored me to life.”
Soon after this he inquired, if I thought that the breaking up of the ice had destroyed the other sledge? I replied, that I could not answer with any degree of certainty; for the ice had not broken until near midnight, and the traveller might have arrived at a place of safety before that time; but of this I could not judge.
From this time the stranger seemed very eager to be upon deck,52 to watch for the sledge which had before appeared; but I have persuaded him to remain in the cabin, for he is far too weak to sustain the rawness of the atmosphere. But I have promised that some one should watch for him, and give him instant notice if any new object should appear in sight.
Such is my journal of what relates to this strange occurrence up to the present day. The stranger has gradually improved in health, but is very silent, and appears uneasy when any one except myself enters his cabin. Yet his manners are so conciliating and gentle, that the sailors are all interested in him, although they have had very little communication with him. For my own part, I begin to love him as a brother; and his constant and deep grief fills me with sympathy and compassion. He must have been a noble creature in his better days, being even now in wreck so attractive and amiable.