Frankenstein w wersji do nauki angielskiego - ebook

W wersji do nauki angielskiego dotychczas ukazały się:

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

Opowieść wigilijna

ALICE’S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND

Alicja w Krainie Czarów

ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

Ania z Zielonego Wzgórza

FAIRY TALES BY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Baśnie Hansa Christiana Andersena

FANNY HILL. MEMOIRS OF A WOMAN OF PLEASURE

Wspomnienia kurtyzany

PETER AND WENDY

Piotruś Pan

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

Duma i uprzedzenie

SHORT STORIES BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

Opowiadania Allana Edgara Poe

SHORT STORIES OF F. SCOTT FITZGERALD: A COLLECTION

Opowiadania autora Wielkiego Gatsby’ego

THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES PART 1

Przygody Sherlocka Holmesa

THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES PART 2

Przygody Sherlocka Holmesa. Ciąg dalszy

THE BLUE CASTLE

Błękitny Zamek

THE GREAT GATSBY

Wielki Gatsby

THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES

Pies Baskerville’ów

THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY

Portret Doriana Graya

THE SECRET GARDEN

Tajemniczy ogród

THE TIME MACHINE

Wehikuł czasu

THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ

Czarnoksiężnik z Krainy Oz

THREE MEN IN A BOAT (TO SAY NOTHING OF THE DOG)

Trzech panów w łódce (nie licząc psa)WSTĘP

_Frankenstein, czyli współczesny Prometeusz_ to powieść wyjątkowa z wielu względów. Choć została opublikowana bardzo dawno, bo już w 1818 roku, stworzyła postać, która na trwałe trafiła do kultury i funkcjonuje w społecznym imaginarium do dnia dzisiejszego.

Co ciekawe, monstrum opisanie w książce tak zawładnęło zbiorową wyobraźnią, że nazwisko Victora Frankensteina, twórcy nieszczęsnego potwora, zaczęło być utożsamiane z ową istotą, choć jako żywo w samym dziele nikt tak się do niej nie zwraca. Oprócz pejoratywnych określeń (takich jak „demon”, „monstrum”) częste są również określenia neutralne płciowo, jak „istota” czy „to coś” – co dodatkowo depersonalizuje i dehumanizuje opisywane stworzenie. Sam stwór, zwracając się do swojego kreatora, mówi o sobie jako o „twoim Adamie” lub gorzko konstatuje, że jest kimś, kto „miał stać się Adamem, ale okazał się upadłym aniołem”. Stwórca nieprzypadkowo nie nadaje mu imienia – jest zbyt zdegustowany i przerażony tym, co uczynił.

Te biblijne nawiązania wyraźnie wskazują, że powieść Mary Shelley wpisała się w lęki i fobie ówczesnych czasów – związanych z granicami postępu technicznego i aspiracjami ludzi, aby dokonywać rzeczy, które wcześniej wydawały się zarezerwowane istotom boskim, czyli tworzyć nowe życie.

Nie sposób nie zauważyć, że te obawy wracają do nas współcześnie. Nie jest przypadkiem popularność filmów i powieści o sztucznej inteligencji, która staje się zagrożeniem dla ludzkości – w gruncie rzeczy filmy takie jak „Terminator”, „A.I.”, czy „Ex Machina” są emanacjami tych samych fascynacji i strachów, które spowodowały, że _Frankenstein_ stał się tak popularną opowieścią. Gwoli sprawiedliwości trzeba jednak zaznaczyć, że tropy te mają starsze korzenie – wystarczy wspomnieć choćby opowieść o Golemie.

Jednocześnie podtytuł powieści (_współczesny Prometeusz_) sugeruje wyraźnie, że autorka postrzegała naukę i postęp techniczny jako nieuniknione i pozytywne przejawy rozwoju cywilizacyjnego. W końcu mityczny Prometeusz przynosił ludzkości dar wiedzy (o polowaniu, czytaniu, medycynie, a także o krzesaniu ognia – i za ten ostatni czyn został srodze pokarany przez Zeusa).

Nie bez znaczenia dla sukcesu _Frankensteina_ była także wartość literacka dzieła. Oparte na oryginalnej formie epistolarnej historię naukowca i jego eksperymentu opowiada w formie listów między kapitanem Robertem Waltonem a jego siostrą. Relacjonuje on jej swoją wyprawę na biegun północny i stopniowo odkrywa historię odnalezionego tam Victora Frankensteina. Klimat odosobnienia i spowitej ciemnościami mroźnej pustki dodatkowo potęgują grozę opowieści (nieprzypadkowo wszak arcydziełami horroru są filmy takie jak „Obcy” czy „Coś”_–_ rozgrywające się w podobnych okolicznościach).

Ponury obraz potwora pozszywanego z fragmentów różnych części zwłok i ożywionego za pomocą elektryczności, choć powszechnie kojarzy się z powieścią Shelley, powstał dopiero w 1931 roku, w popularnej filmowej adaptacji dzieła. W samej książce autorka enigmatycznie napomyka jedynie, że Victor Frankenstein odkrył sekret tchnięcia życia w martwą materię.

Smutną częścią historii o _Frankensteinie_ jest to, że autorka powieści w jej pierwszym wydaniu występowała anonimowo – ponieważ kobiety pisarki nie były jeszcze wówczas traktowane na równi z pisarzami, zwłaszcza w mniej klasycznych gatunkach literackich (a _Frankensteina_ zaliczano do powieści grozy).

Jako ciekawostkę można wspomnieć natomiast, że w trakcie pisania powieści Shelley podróżowała po Europie, zatrzymując się w pobliżu zamku Frankenstein w Niemczech. W zamku tym w XVI wieku liczne eksperymenty przeprowadzał pewien alchemik – można więc podejrzewać, że historia tego miejsca była dla autorki istotną inspiracją.

Opracowany przez nas podręcznik oparty na oryginalnym tekście powieści został skonstruowany według przejrzystego schematu.

- Na marginesach tekstu podano OBJAŚNIENIA trudniejszych wyrazów.
- Każdy rozdział jest zakończony krótkim testem sprawdzającym stopień ROZUMIENIA TEKSTU.
- Zawarty po każdym rozdziale dział O SŁOWACH jest poświęcony poszerzeniu słownictwa z danej dziedziny, wyrazom kłopotliwym dla polskich uczniów (tzw_. false friends_) lub wyrażeniom idiomatycznym.
- W dziale poświęconym GRAMATYCE omówiono wybrane zagadnienie gramatyczne, ilustrowane fragmentem rozdziału.
- Dla dociekliwych został również opracowany komentarz do wybranych tematów związanych z KULTURĄ I HISTORIĄ.

Różnorodne ĆWICZENIA pozwolą Czytelnikowi powtórzyć i sprawdzić omówione w podręczniku zagadnienia leksykalne i gramatyczne. Alfabetyczny wykaz wyrazów objaśnianych na marginesie tekstu znajduje się w SŁOWNICZKU. Odpowiedzi do wszystkich zadań zamkniętych są podane w KLUCZU na końcu książki.PART 1 PREFACE

Słownictwo

The event on which this fiction is founded has been supposed, 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 developes; 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 the ordinary relations of existing events can yield.

I have thus endeavoured to preserve the truth of the elementary 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 licence, 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 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 of the enervating effects of the novels of the present day, and to the exhibitions 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 blazing 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 any thing 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.

LETTER I

_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 day dreams 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 for ever 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 phænomena 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 for ever. 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’s 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 sea-faring 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.

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 their’s 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 stage-coach. The cold is not excessive, if you are wrapt 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.

LETTER II

_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 life I ran wild on a common, and read nothing but our uncle Thomas’s 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 school-boys of fifteen. It is true that I have thought more, and that my day dreams 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. 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.

The master is a person of an excellent disposition, and is remarkable in the ship for his gentleness, and the mildness of his discipline. He is, indeed, of so amiable a nature, that he will not hunt (a favourite, and almost the only amusement here), because he cannot endure to spill blood. He is, moreover, heroically generous. 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 bestowed the whole on his rival, together with the remains of his prize-money to purchase stock, and then himself solicited the young woman’s father to consent to her marriage with her lover. But the old man decidedly refused, thinking himself bound in honour to my friend; who, when he found the father inexorable, quitted his country, nor returned until he heard that his former mistress was married according to her inclinations. “What a noble fellow!” you will exclaim. He is so; but then he has passed all his life on board a vessel, and has scarcely an idea beyond the rope and the shroud.

But do not suppose that, because I complain a little, or because I can conceive a consolation for my toils which I may never know, that I am wavering in my resolutions. Those are as fixed as fate; and my voyage is only now delayed until the weather shall permit my embarkation. The winter has been dreadfully severe; but the spring promises well, and it is considered as a remarkably early season; so that, perhaps, I may sail sooner than I expected. I shall do nothing rashly; you know me sufficiently to confide in my prudence and considerateness whenever the safety of others is committed to my care.

I cannot describe to you my sensations on the near prospect of my undertaking. It is impossible to communicate to you a conception of the trembling sensation, half pleasurable and half fearful, with which I am preparing to depart. I am going to unexplored regions, to “the land of mist and snow;” but I shall kill no albatross, therefore do not be alarmed for my safety.

Shall I meet you again, after having traversed immense seas, and returned by the most southern cape of Africa or America? I dare not expect such success, yet I cannot bear to look on the reverse of the picture. Continue to write to me by every opportunity: I may receive your letters (though the chance is very doubtful) on some occasions when I need them most to support my spirits. I love you very tenderly. Remember me with affection, should you never hear from me again.

Your affectionate brother,

Robert Walton.

LETTER III

_To Mrs._ Saville, _England_.

July 7th, 17—.

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-man 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; 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, 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 your’s, I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool, persevering, and prudent.

Remember me to all my English friends.

Most affectionately yours,

R. W.Rozumienie tekstu

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Zaznacz właściwą odpowiedź (A, B lub C).

1. The work on the novel began in

A) Germany.

B) Geneva.

C) the Alps.

2. Walton is

A) an educated poet and sailor.

B) quite well-off.

C) an adventurous whale-fisher.

3. The best way to travel across Russia in winter is

A) on deck, covered in furs.

B) by coach.

C) on a sledge.

4. Walton feels lonely

A) without an educated interlocutor.

B) after losing his friend.

C) without his sister.

5. In his third letter, Walton

A) reports the breaking of a mast by a strong wind.

B) expresses a wish to see his homeland.

C) says the weather is surprisingly warm.

O słowach

ENERVATE

“My chief concern in this respect has been limited to the avoiding of the enervating effects of the novels of the present day.”

Czasownik ENERVATE oznacza _osłabiać, wyczerpywać, pozbawiać sił_. _Denerwować_ to np. ANNOY, IRRITATE, VEX czy GET ON SOMEBODY’S NERVES. Porównaj przykłady:

THE ENTIRE SITUATION REALLY ANNOYED ME.

_Cała ta sytuacja bardzo mnie zdenerwowała._

EXCESSIVE EXERTION ENERVATED EVE.

_Nadmierny wysiłek wyczerpał Eve._

Gramatyka

MODYFIKACJA RZECZOWNIKA

“How would such a friend repair the faults of your poor brother!”

Żeby podkreślić znaczenie i wagę rzeczownika, możemy poprzedzić go wyrazem SUCH (_taki_), np.:

JEFFREY’S SUCH A PESSIMIST!

_Jeffrey jest takim pesymistą!_

MY COLLEAGUES ARE SUCH LOAFERS!

_Moi koledzy to takie obiboki!_

ALL SHE’S SAID WAS SUCH RUBBISH!

_Wszystko, co powiedziała, to takie bzdury!_

Przed rzeczownikiem policzalnym w liczbie pojedynczej używa się w tego typu wypowiedziach również przedimka nieokreślonego (A/AN). Występuje on zawsze bezpośrednio po SUCH, np.:

I DIDN’T EXPECT MY ABSENCE WOULD CAUSE SUCH A PROBLEM.

_Nie przypuszczałem, że moja nieobecność spowoduje taki problem._

THE JOURNEY WAS SUCH AN EXPERIENCE!

_Ta podróż była takim (wielkim) przeżyciem!_

Znaczenie rzeczownika można również osłabić – używa się wówczas wyrazów QUITE i RATHER (_dosyć, raczej_). Łączą się one wyłącznie z rzeczownikiem w liczbie pojedynczej, a poprzedza je przedimek A/AN, np.:

MY COLLEAGUE IS QUITE A LOAFER.

_Mój kolega jest raczej leniwy._

THE JOURNEY WAS RATHER AN EXPERIENCE.

_Ta podróż była w pewnym stopniu przeżyciem._

Powyższe zastosowanie konstrukcji SUCH (A/AN) + RZECZOWNIK oraz QUITE/RATHER A/AN + RZECZOWNIK dotyczy tych rzeczowników, które mogą być w większym lub mniejszym stopniu nasycone znaczeniowo. Rzeczownik LOAFER (_leń, obibok_) odnosi się do osoby leniwej, a przecież leniwym można być w mniejszym lub większym stopniu; rzeczownik FRIEND (_przyjaciel_) – do osoby, z którą może nas łączyć bardzo silna więź lub zaledwie sympatia; rzeczownik EXPERIENCE (_przeżycie, doświadczenie_) – do doświadczeń bardziej lub mniej intensywnych. Porównaj przykłady:

JOSH IS SUCH A FRIEND! I CAN ALWAYS DEPEND ON HIM.

_Josh to taki (wielki, prawdziwy) przyjaciel. Zawsze mogę na nim polegać._

MARY’S QUITE A FRIEND. WE MEET UP AND GOSSIP EVERY NOW AND THEN.

_Nawet przyjaźnimy się z Mary. Od czasu do czasu spotykamy się i plotkujemy._

NICK SAYS THAT DIVORCING TINA WAS RATHER A MISTAKE.

_Nick mówi, że rozwód z Tiną był w pewnym stopniu błędem._

NICK, IT WAS SUCH A MISTAKE TO MARRY YOU, EXCLAIMED TINA.

_Nick, małżeństwo z tobą było wielkim błędem, zawołała Tina._

Opisany powyżej Josh jest w większym stopniu przyjacielem autora wypowiedzi niż Mary, błąd popełniony przez Tinę został uznany za bardziej poważny niż błąd Nicka.

O tego rodzaju stopniowalności nie może być jednak mowy w przypadku wielu innych rzeczowników, jak np. CAR (_samochód_), SAND (_piasek_), BOY (_chłopiec_), JACKET (_kurtka_). Niedorzecznością byłoby przecież stwierdzić, że dany przedmiot jest samochodem czy kurtką w mniejszym lub większym stopniu. Dlatego tego typu rzeczowniki na ogół nie występują w opisanej strukturze.

Wyraz QUITE może jednak poprzedzać te „niestopniowalne” rzeczowniki, ale wówczas konstrukcja QUITE (A/AN) + RZECZOWNIK ma inne znaczenie. Sygnalizuje ona wyjątkowość opisywanego zjawiska, osoby czy przedmiotu, np.:

JULEK’S QUITE A BOY!

_Z Julka to dopiero chłopak!_

THAT’S QUITE A YACHT!

_Co za jacht!_

Znaczenie rzeczownika w liczbie pojedynczej możemy również modyfikować za pomocą kwantyfikatorów (MUCH, MORE, A BIT itp.). Stosujemy wówczas konstrukcję: KWANTYFIKATOR + OF + A/AN + RZECZOWNIK, np.:

SHE’S VERY MUCH OF AN ACTIVIST.

_Jest bardzo zaangażowaną aktywistką._

MARY IS NOT MUCH OF A FRIEND TO ME.

_Mary nie jest moją wielką przyjaciółką._

IT WAS LESS OF AN ADVENTURE THAN RELAXATION.

_To była nie tyle przygoda, co wypoczynek._

Kultura i historia

ERAZM DARWIN

Patron aptekarzy i żebraków, św. Jakub, zapewne zdziwiłby się tym, że przyszłe stulecia zwiążą jego imię z muszlą. Zdziwienie zapewne ustąpiłoby miejsca zrozumieniu, że charakterystyczny kształt muszli małży z rodziny Pectinidae występujących w pobliżu jego grobu, do którego odbywały się pielgrzymki, bardzo wrył się pielgrzymom w pamięć. Na tyle trwale, że poza zabieraniem muszli na pamiątkę odbytej pielgrzymki z czasem wiązali je właśnie z jego imieniem. Muszla św. Jakuba jako ornament i symbol znalazła się w wielu miejscach – miał ją w swoim herbie Erazm (Erasmus) Darwin (1731–1802). On natomiast dodał do niej motto „_E conchis omnia_” (wszystko z muszli) i nakazał tak właśnie zmodyfikowany herb umieścić na swej karecie. Ta ekstrawagancja z pewnością wprawiłaby Jakuba w zakłopotanie.

Erazm Darwin, o którym autorka wspomina w przedmowie powieści, był człowiekiem ciekawym wszystkiego, obdarzonym wszechstronną i otwartą umysłowością. Miał bardzo różnych przyjaciół, pośród których znalazł się m.in. producent zastawy stołowej Josiah Wedgwood (1730–1795). Wedgwood i Darwin pracowali razem nad projektem przekopania Anglii w poprzek. Budowa kanału _Trent and Mersey_ wymagała m.in. wykucia długiego tunelu. Podczas tej budowy znaleziono wiele ciekawych skamielin, które zafascynowały Erazma; sam Wedgwood miał ich pokaźną kolekcję.

Nie był to pierwszy kontakt dziadka słynnego Charlesa z pozostałościami dawnego życia na ziemi – już ojciec Erazma, Robert, odkrył w 1718 roku pierwszy na Wyspach Brytyjskich szkielet dinozaura. Erazm Darwin już wtedy żywił głębokie przeświadczenie o rozwojowym, jakbyśmy powiedzieli – ewolucyjnym charakterze istot żywych. Swoje poglądy wyrażał w długich poematach. Wydany w 1791 roku poemat _The Loves of Plants_, w którym Erazm dał wyraz swojemu zauroczeniu Linneuszem, przyniósł mu spore uznanie i pochlebne opinie o zdolnościach literackich. Muszla w herbie zyskała nowy wymiar.

Poeta, wzięty lekarz i zapalony przyrodnik, mógł się też pochwalić interesującymi wynalazkami. Poza powszechnie znanym i często przytaczanym pomysłem skonstruowania ogromnej wirówki do odwirowywania migren, w której umieszczano by chorego i kręcono nim z dużą prędkością do czasu ustąpienia bólu głowy wskutek odpływu krwi z mózgu, Erazm Darwin obmyślił, skonstruował i zastosował w swoim powozie mechanizm różnicowego skrętu kół – dziś wykorzystywany we wszystkich samochodach. Zbudował także wiatrak z pionową osią obrotu i wspomagał Jamesa Watta w jego pracach nad ulepszeniem silnika parowego. Żywo zainteresowany nauką, był oddanym rzecznikiem postępu.

Oświeceniowy optymizm co do możliwości sprawczych człowieka i czas angielskiej rewolucji przemysłowej, w której przyszło żyć Erazmowi, były idealną scenerią dla jego temperamentu i charakteru. Za jego życia powstawały liczne towarzystwa naukowe. Erazm Darwin należał do Towarzystwa Królewskiego i Towarzystwa Księżycowego (_Lunar Society_), zrzeszającego wielu wybitnych intelektualistów, prawników, przemysłowców, myślicieli i naukowców, jak Benjamin Franklin, z którym Erazm nawiązał trwałą, długoletnią przyjaźń, wspomniany James Watt, Samuel Parr, John Wilkinson, Thomas Percival czy Adam Smith.

W swoich preewolucjonistycznych poglądach Erazm Darwin utrzymywał, że organizmy żywe mogą dziedziczyć pewne przyzwyczajenia po swoich przodkach. Cechy nabyte, będące rezultatem pewnej zaradności w przezwyciężaniu trudów egzystencji, udoskonalają gatunki. Powodują również przemianę jednego gatunku w inny.Te obserwacje nie stanowią zwartego wykładu, o który zresztą Erazm nie bardzo dbał; jest to raczej wyraz intuicji, twórczy domysł poparty częściowo odkryciami, częściowo obiegowymi opiniami i przesądami. Hipoteza nie była całkiem nowa.

Jean-Baptiste de Lamarck (1744–1829), któremu przypadła w udziale katedra historii naturalnej w przekształconym w muzeum podczas rewolucji francuskiej królewskim ogrodzie botanicznym, profesor od pogardzanych robaków, którymi poważni przyrodnicy się nie zajmowali, żywił wcześniej zbieżną z Erazmowską intuicję o przekształcaniu gatunków. Transformizm Lamracka miał wielu wrogów, podobnie jak późniejsza teoria ewolucji Charlesa Darwina i jej wczesne antycypacje dziadka Charlesa – Erasmusa. Erazm sympatyzował z rewolucja francuską, co w czasach nasilających się radykalnych angielskich ruchów religijnych w połączeniu z lekceważeniem biblijnej spuścizny w dziedzinie objaśniania istoty życia sprowadziło na niego falę niechęci.

Erazm Darwin potrafił cieszyć się życiem – z portretów namalowanych przez jego przyjaciela malarza Josepha Wrighte’a spogląda na nas nieco tęgawy pan w ledwo opinającym go ubraniu, o serdecznej, lekko zafrasowanej twarzy. Miał łatwość nawiązywania kontaktów i przychylny stosunek do ludzi. Dwukrotnie żonaty, doczekał się czternaściorga dzieci.

Ćwiczenia

Klucz >>>

1. Połącz wyrazy (1–10) z ich synonimami i definicjami (A–J).

1) amiable

2) commencement

3) conceive

4) endeavour

5) enervating

6) foreboding

7) prudent

8) remainder

9) toil

10) vessel

A) to strive, to try hard

B) exhausting

C) to make up, to think of or develop

D) beginning

E) fear that something bad will happen

F) careful, sensible

G) hard work

H) the rest of something

I) nice, friendly

J) a ship

2. Zaznacz wyraz, który nie pasuje do pozostałych.

a) embark; vessel; under-mate; assailed

b) gale; clime; waft; weather

c) foreboding; dauntless; inestimable; laborious

d) prudence; fortitude; enticement; considerateness

e) confer; waver; remainder; render

3. Wybierz właściwą formę lub wyraz.

a) Geffrey _a such/quite a_ freak, but you’re sure to get to like him.

b) It was _rather a/such a_ folly to gamble all your money!

c) This latest model is _rather a/quite a_ car. It does look great.

d) This training course was _more/rather of/more of_ revision than learning something really new.

e) I must admit that Jenny is _much of/much_ a singer.

f) The fact that _a such/such/such a_ prestigious location hosted her exhibition, made it possible for the artist to gain popularity.

4. Zgromadź informacje dotyczące biografii Mary Shelley. Przygotuj prezentację multimedialną (około 10 slajdów) dotyczącą jej życia i twórczości.PART 2 LETTER IV

Słownictwo

_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), we were nearly surrounded by ice, which closed in the ship on all sides, scarcely leaving her the sea room in which she floated. Our situation was somewhat dangerous, especially as we were compassed round by a very thick fog. We accordingly lay to, hoping that some change would take place in the atmosphere and weather.

About two o’clock 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.

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.

About two hours after this occurrence, we heard the ground sea; 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; 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. “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, 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 depended 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 dæmon, 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, 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.

I said in one of my letters, my dear Margaret, that I should find no friend on the wide ocean; yet I have found a man who, before his spirit had been broken by misery, I should have been happy to have possessed as the brother of my heart.

I shall continue my journal concerning the stranger at intervals, should I have any fresh incidents to record.

August 13th, 17—.

My affection for my guest increases every day. He excites at once my admiration and my pity to an astonishing degree. How can I see so noble a creature destroyed by misery without feeling the most poignant grief? He is so gentle, yet so wise; his mind is so cultivated; and when he speaks, although his words are culled with the choicest art, yet they flow with rapidity and unparalleled eloquence.

He is now much recovered from his illness, and is continually on the deck, apparently watching for the sledge that preceded his own. Yet, although unhappy, he is not so utterly occupied by his own misery, but that he interests himself deeply in the employments of others. He has asked me many questions concerning my design; and I have related my little history frankly to him. He appeared pleased with the confidence, and suggested several alterations in my plan, which I shall find exceedingly useful. There is no pedantry in his manner; but all he does appears to spring solely from the interest he instinctively takes in the welfare of those who surround him. He is often overcome by gloom, and then he sits by himself, and tries to overcome all that is sullen or unsocial in his humour. These paroxysms pass from him like a cloud from before the sun, though his dejection never leaves him. I have endeavoured to win his confidence; and I trust that I have succeeded. One day I mentioned to him the desire I had always felt of finding a friend who might sympathize with me, and direct me by his counsel. I said, I did not belong to that class of men who are offended by advice. “I am self-educated, and perhaps I hardly rely sufficiently upon my own powers. I wish therefore that my companion should be wiser and more experienced than myself, to confirm and support me; nor have I believed it impossible to find a true friend.”

“I agree with you,” replied the stranger, “in believing that friendship is not only a desirable, but a possible acquisition. I once had a friend, the most noble of human creatures, and am entitled, therefore, to judge respecting friendship. You have hope, and the world before you, and have no cause for despair. But I——I have lost every thing, and cannot begin life anew.”

As he said this, his countenance became expressive of a calm settled grief, that touched me to the heart. But he was silent, and presently retired to his cabin.

Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit, that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.

Will you laugh at the enthusiasm I express concerning this divine wanderer? If you do, you must have certainly lost that simplicity which was once your characteristic charm. Yet, if you will, smile at the warmth of my expressions, while I find every day new causes for repeating them.

August 19th, 17—.

Yesterday the stranger said to me, “You may easily perceive, Captain Walton, that I have suffered great and unparalleled misfortunes. I had determined, once, that the memory of these evils should die with me; but you have won me to alter my determination. You seek for knowledge and wisdom, as I once did; and I ardently hope that the gratification of your wishes may not be a serpent to sting you, as mine has been. I do not know that the relation of my misfortunes will be useful to you, yet, if you are inclined, listen to my tale. I believe that the strange incidents connected with it will afford a view of nature, which may enlarge your faculties and understanding. You will hear of powers and occurrences, such as you have been accustomed to believe impossible: but I do not doubt that my tale conveys in its series internal evidence of the truth of the events of which it is composed.”

You may easily conceive that I was much gratified by the offered communication; yet I could not endure that he should renew his grief by a recital of his misfortunes. I felt the greatest eagerness to hear the promised narrative, partly from curiosity, and partly from a strong desire to ameliorate his fate, if it were in my power. I expressed these feelings in my answer.

“I thank you,” he replied, “for your sympathy, but it is useless; my fate is nearly fulfilled. I wait but for one event, and then I shall repose in peace. I understand your feeling,” continued he, perceiving that I wished to interrupt him; “but you are mistaken, my friend, if thus you will allow me to name you; nothing can alter my destiny: listen to my history, and you will perceive how irrevocably it is determined.”

He then told me, that he would commence his narrative the next day when I should be at leisure. This promise drew from me the warmest thanks. I have resolved every night, when I am not engaged, to record, as nearly as possible in his own words, what he has related during the day. If I should be engaged, I will at least make notes. This manuscript will doubtless afford you the greatest pleasure: but to me, who know him, and who hear it from his own lips, with what interest and sympathy shall I read it in some future day!