Letter 1
TO Mrs. Saville, England
St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17-
You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied 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 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 sun is 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 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.
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 Homerand Shakespearehow 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 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 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 are accustomed
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, 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
Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus
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