Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
30th August, 1797
Mary Shelley is famous. Of course she’s famous. She’s the young girl who wrote Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus at the age of 18 and invented the genre of science-fiction (although that can be argued, hopefully by people who know more about that sort of thing than me). And she was married to the one-man disaster zone that was Percy Bysshe Shelley. Of course she’s famous!
But in that weird way that history sometimes remembers people, especially women, that’s all we remember her for. What we conceive of as her greatest achievements. Sometimes history does good things for the memory of people and rescues their reputations from the doldrums of the past. Other times it sort of obscures their other achievements and focuses the laser stare of time at the big things; especially if those big things involve and absolute mess of a human being who couldn’t keep his trousers on for more than ten minutes at a time, spent all the money they ever earned on women and booze as soon as they got it, dragged Mary and their tragically sick children around Europe living in penury and squalor because he was fucking useless and a big lumbery zombie bloke who was really sad.
Frankenstein was the monster! And so was fucking Percy. Percy didn’t drown because he was a romantic dandy, tossed on the tempest of nature’s wrath, who had to be cremated on the beach like a Roman emperor. He was a drunk in a boat and then he was a stinking corpse who fell to pieces when they tried to pick him up.
Ironically then, Mary Shelley’s reputation as one of the finest writers of her generation was strongest while she was alive. All the interest in her surrounded her being the wife of Percy and that book she wrote whilst she was a kid. In an essence, she is just seen as either Percy or Byron’s Pygmalion. But her writing, even in her lifetime, was seen as of incredible importance. She was one of, if not the, finest romantic writers of the 19th Century and her importance as a literary giant, especially as a woman and one with a liberal voice, has sometimes been lost because of that bloke and that book.
Mary Shelley deserved so much more than Percy.
Mary Shelley, born Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin on August 30, 1797, in London, England, is one of the most enduring literary figures of the 19th century. Best known for her seminal work, Frankenstein, Shelley was much more than just the author of a single novel; she was a pioneering writer, a radical thinker, and a woman who navigated the tumultuous waters of life with remarkable resilience.
Mary's birth was marked by tragedy; her mother, Mary Wollstonecraft, a famed feminist and author of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, died just days after giving birth. Mary was left in the care of her father, William Godwin, a political philosopher and novelist. Godwin remarried when Mary was four, bringing a new mother figure into her life, but the relationship between Mary and her stepmother, Mary Jane Clairmont, was strained. Despite these tensions, Mary's childhood was steeped in intellectual stimulation, with her father encouraging her to read widely and think critically.
At the age of 16, Mary met the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, a devoted admirer of her father’s work. Percy was already married to Harriet Westbrook, with whom he had two children. Despite this, Percy and Mary began a passionate affair, driven by their shared intellectual and emotional connection. They eloped to France in 1814, scandalizing their families and society. Their early years together were marked by financial instability, constant travel, and the disapproval of almost everyone around them.
Mary and Percy’s relationship, while intense and creative, was also fraught with difficulties, many of which stemmed from Percy’s often erratic behavior and his views on free love. Percy believed in non-monogamy and frequently engaged in romantic liaisons with other women, causing Mary considerable heartache. His affair with Claire Clairmont, Mary’s stepsister, was particularly painful for Mary. Claire joined them in their travels and became Percy’s mistress, which led to a complicated and often tense dynamic among the three. Claire’s child, Allegra, was likely fathered by Lord Byron, another of their close companions, but the constant presence of Claire and her entanglements with Percy caused Mary great emotional strain.
The Shelleys’ relationship was also tested by Percy’s reckless and often self-destructive behavior. His disregard for social conventions extended beyond his romantic life; he was known for his radical political views, his willingness to challenge authority, and his tendency to engage in dangerous escapades. These traits, while part of what made him an appealing figure to Mary, also led to numerous financial and legal troubles. Percy’s financial irresponsibility often left the family in dire straits, relying on the charity of friends and well-wishers to survive.
Despite these challenges, the couple remained deeply connected through their shared literary pursuits. It was during a stay in Switzerland in 1816, with Lord Byron and other friends, that Mary conceived the idea for Frankenstein. Percy encouraged her writing, and their discussions on science, philosophy, and the nature of life undoubtedly influenced the themes of the novel. However, Percy’s influence on her work was a double-edged sword. While he supported her creativity, there was also a persistent undercurrent of tension due to his domineering personality and his dismissive attitude toward Mary’s feelings and needs.
Mary’s life with Percy was also marred by personal tragedies that left deep emotional scars. The couple suffered the loss of several children in infancy, a sorrow that Mary carried throughout her life. These tragedies were compounded by Percy’s infidelities and his inability to provide the emotional or financial support that Mary desperately needed. His belief in ‘free love’, which was just an excuse for him to sleep with anything that stayed still long enough for him to get his dick in it, often left Mary feeling isolated and betrayed, and the strain of these losses took a toll on her mental and physical health.
In 1822, tragedy struck again when Percy drowned in a boating accident off the coast of Italy, leaving Mary a widow at the age of 24. The news of Percy’s death devastated Mary, who was left to care for their only surviving child, Percy Florence Shelley. Despite her grief, Mary continued to write, producing several novels, short stories, and essays, though none would achieve the same fame as Frankenstein.
After Percy’s death, Mary returned to England, where she focused on securing her son’s future and preserving Percy’s literary legacy. She edited and published his poems, ensuring that his work would be remembered, even as she struggled with her own health and financial difficulties. Mary’s later works, such as The Last Man (1826), reflect her growing interest in themes of isolation and the end of civilization, likely influenced by her own experiences of loss and survival.
Mary Shelley died on February 1, 1851, at the age of 53. She was buried in Bournemouth, England, alongside the remains of her parents. Mary Shelley’s legacy extends far beyond Frankenstein. She is remembered as a pioneering woman of letters who navigated the male-dominated literary world with determination and skill. Her life and works continue to inspire discussions about the role of women in literature, the ethics of scientific discovery, and the enduring power of Gothic romantic fiction.
Her other major works, such as the novels "Lodore" and "Valperga" and the novella "Transformation", have been published in book form recently, along with her collected stories. So she was more than just "Frankenstein"- but that book earned her among other things the titles of "the first woman science fiction writer" and "first science fiction writer" (although she wasn't).
And she definitely would be quite amazed to know people know of her fictional doctor and his tragic creation now much better than they do anything Percy wrote.
In "The Philosophy of Horror", Noel Carroll boils the entire horror genre down to two essential plotlines. The “overreacher plot” is one of them, and "Frankenstein" is more or less the prototype. As much as we owe Mary Shelley for the mad scientist archetype, the associated theme, that some knowledge is dangerous, has never been more relevant.