All language subtitles for mary

Scarcely had the demon cast
his burning stare upon her.

Scarcely had...

...the demon cast
his burning stare upon her...

...leaving his face
entirely without symmetry...

...leaving his face entirely without form...

...and as her fingertips
touched upon his lips...

...he melted into her.

She's looking for you.

Next time you run off to read
ghost stories, take me with you.

Who says I was reading ghost stories?

- It's thrilling, isn't it?
- My heart was racing, I was so scared.

If I were you, I'd be more scared
of your father catching you reading it.

I don't know how he vexes so.

People liked his Gothic novels.

Your father is in the bookshop working.

Claire has been tending to the house.

I have spent all hours
going through the ledgers.

Where were you today that you couldn't
relieve your father for a few hours?

I completed my work for today.
I just went out for some fresh air.

I know where you were.

Look who has returned, my dear.

I just went out for a walk.

Glad to see you devoting yourself
to these great works, Mary.

"To love reading is to have
everything within your reach."

Payment is over-due, Mr. Godwin.

Need I remind you
of the conditions of your loan?

Business has been very poor.

Allow me one more month.

Another month? It's six months already.

Now, weren't you asking for a ghost story?

- Is it a new one?
- Another month. Understand?

I will rise from the grave...

...to tell the tale of the treachery
I have suffered.

And to seek my revenge!

Scarcely had the demon cast...

...his burning stare upon her...

...in her icy cheeks...

Claire, Claire. Claire!

It's just a nightmare.

It's all right.

Go back to sleep.

It's all right.

Go back to sleep.

You can't sleep?

Do you miss her?

She was so full of passion.

So full of defiance.

As if she were at war constantly
with everyone and everything.

And enjoying every moment of the battle.

Warriors like your mother
are never long for this world.

The Devil's claws lunged
at the maiden's neck.

Sinking his talons...

...deep, deep into her ripe, pale skin.

Blood dripped...

...like tracks in milky snow.

- Mary?
- She screamed.

Where are you?

No one watching the shop, and you
back here scribbling away like a child.

Let's see what's so important that it's
kept you from your work, shall we?

It is private.

What thoughts haunt the daughter
of these esteemed writers?

Let go!

- Mary.
- She pushed me!

- Did you not see her...
- I didn't do anything.

- You all right?
- I can't live with someone like this.

There's not a grain of respect in her.

- I didn't do anything!
- That's enough. That's enough.

He's an old friend.

Mr. Baxter is as firm a believer
in education as I am.

- You'll find his house very comfortable.
- Scotland?

I'm sending you away
because I love you, Mary.

And because I sincerely hope that you'll
find the refuge that you need there.

Also that the solitude
will give you time for introspection.

Your writing...

...this is the work of an imitator.

Rid yourself of the thoughts
and words of other people, Mary.

Find your own voice.

Mary! Welcome. Oh, my God,
you look so much like your mother.

And, thank the Lord, not a thing
like your father. I'm William Baxter.

This is my daughter Isabel.

We'll do our best to keep you
amused out here, Mary.

It may not be as bustling as London...

...but I'm sure we can find
some ways to pass the time.

The night is so different here.

How do people sleep with all this silence?

Come on, I know just where to go.

I've thought of trying to summon my mother...

...by séance.

But she suffered so long with illness...

...what if she has finally
found peace at last?

Wouldn't it be cruel to disturb her?

Do you think it could really work...

...reaching the dead?

I already feel her presence.

I miss her so much.

Not a day goes by when I don't think of her.

Would you ever consider trying
to contact your mother?

Maybe she wouldn't want me to.

Given I was the one who killed her.

She died just days after I was born.

Oh, Mary.

I love it in Scotland.

Nothing is as I expected it would be.

You've only been here
a few weeks. Give it time.

In London it's not often we have
occasion to picnic by the river.

Your mistake is waiting for an occasion.

I looked upon the rotting sea
and drew my eyes away

I looked upon the rotting deck
And there the dead men lay

I looked to Heaven and tried to pray

But before a prayer had gushed
A wicked whisper came...

Come in. Come in. You must be freezing.

If I could just give you
a couple of my essays.

My contribution
to this evening's entertainment.

- How are you?
- Good. How's the party?

Isabel... who is that?

Oh, that's Shelley.

Beautiful, isn't he? He's a radical poet.

He thinks poetry should reform society,
and so he's often in trouble.

Sounds like quite a catch.

- Let me introduce you to some friends.
- There's someone I'd like you to meet.

Good luck.

- Percy, may I present Mary. Mary...
- Baxter! Come and join us!

Oh, it's Coleridge. Mary, could you
put these nameplates out, please?

Let me get those for you.

I'm Percy Bysshe Shelley.

I am Mary Wollstonecraft-Godwin.

Of course. Baxter mentioned
you'd be joining the family here.

I am a great admirer
of both your parents' work.

I hope I can entrust you
to this task, Mr. Shelley.

- Or will you try to incite me to revolution?
- My reputation precedes me.

Won't you welcome a change
from the deafening quiet?

I've grown accustomed to it.

In London I spend most
of my time in my father's bookshop.

So the deafening quiet is not
as dramatic as you may think.

Baxter does his best for these gatherings.
Any lover of poetry will surely find a...

...great thrill in the work
that is being presented here.

So surely you are a writer yourself?

Not really. Nothing substantial.

I hope to, someday.

And what, may I ask, would you constitute
as "substantial" in your eyes?

Anything that curdles the blood...

...and quickens the beatings of the heart.

Ah, perfect!

Now may I steal Mr. Shelley away?

- We would love a poem, sir.
- Certainly, sir.

Without an audience,
ideas remain mere words on a page.

- Mr. Shelley, your essay.
- Oh, I have no need for those.

Thank you. I shall trust
in the spark of new found inspiration.

Oh, not the visioned poet in his dreams...

...when silvery clouds float
through the wildered brain...

...when every sight of lovely,
wild and grand...

...astonishes...

...enraptures...

...elevates...

...so bright...

...so fair, so wild a shape...

...hath ever yet beheld as that
which reined the coursers of the air...

...and poured the magic of her gaze...

...upon the maiden's sleep.

Alone, alone, all alone...

...upon the wide, wide sea...

...and God will not take pity...

...on my soul in agony.

- This weather.
- Ah, stop complaining.

- It's Scotland, what do you expect?
- So I say to you...

...if all things come from God
and we all come from God...

...are we not part of God?

When we think, do we not behold
the very thoughts of God?

- Can't say I feel like much of a god.
- Your body is tired, Baxter...

...but your spirit, it longs to soar.

What of you, Miss Godwin?

Do you think you are of God...

...like the great poet Coleridge?

I'll admit...

...I thought Coleridge was much more
captivating when I was a child.

There you go.

I'm surprised you can remember back that far.

Behold the majesty of God's creation...

Well, just how old are you then...

...dear ancient one?

Old enough to know why you are asking.

Ah.

It's inspirational, don't you think?

- I'm 16.
- Hmm.

- How about you?
- 21.

A wise old man indeed.

As mountain springs under the morning sun...

...we shall become the same...

...we shall be one spirit
within two frames...

...oh, wherefore two?

One passion in twin hearts
which grows and grew...

...till like two meteors
of expanding flame...

...those spheres instinct with it
become the same...

...touch, mingle
are transfigured ever still...

...burning, yet inconsumable...

Mary...

...I'm afraid I have some
terrible news from London.

It's your sister Claire.

May I ask you...

...could you tell Mr. Shelley I said goodbye?

Of course.

Was Scotland everything I said it would be?

Were you happy?

I was.

You will live again, Mary.
You have your mother's spirit.

You won't be confined for long.

She's been like this for weeks.

Claire?

Thank God! You're finally back!

So you aren't dying?

Only from boredom.

You mean you weren't sick at all?

Well... maybe a little bit.

Poor captive bird!

Who, from thy narrow cage
pourest such music...

...that it might assuage the rugged hearts
of those who prisoned thee...

...were they not deaf towards sweet melody...

...this song shall be thy rose...

...its petals pale are dead, indeed...

...my adored Nightingale!

It seems my mother's latest reverie
is a young protégé for your father.

We are all to be on our best behavior
at dinner tonight to win him over.

He's wealthy, evidently.

She's a woman of indomitable hope,
I can't deny her that.

Mr. Percy Shelley,
may I present Mrs. Godwin, my wife.

And our children, William, Claire and Mary.

Delighted.

My husband tells me
you're a poet, Mr. Shelley.

He speaks very highly of your work.

Well, I am humbled
by his praise, Mrs. Godwin.

I must admit, though,
my work is not yet widely known.

Although I have just completed my
second volume which awaits publication.

Very impressive achievement
for such a young man.

Any achievement of mine
falls within the shadow...

- ...of your influence, Mr. Godwin.
- You flatter me.

Hope you will consider my proposal
to take me on as your protégé.

I have a considerable allowance
at my disposal...

...and would gladly reimburse you
for any time you might spare.

Well, I feel duty bound to...

...foster such ability.

Well, then, that's settled.

How fortunate we are to be
in the presence of two great minds.

You must see our bookshop, Mr. Shelley.

I have a copy of "The Iliad"
in the original Greek.

Hmm.

Perhaps Mary will show it
to you after dinner.

How are you here?

Does it seem so strange that I would seek out
the tutelage of the great William Godwin?

Clearly I'm not only here to see your father.

Then why are you here?

To once again feel
the curdling of my blood...

...and the quickening
of the beatings of my heart.

Mary?

Mr. Shelley?

Your father would like to see Mr. Shelley.

Thank you.

I will be with him momentarily.
I'm quite enjoying the, uh, collection.

So I see.

As I was saying, both your parents
are a great source of inspiration to me.

My mother died when I was ten days old.

I'm sorry, I had no idea.

Don't be sorry.

I love to talk about her.

Even if I never truly knew her.

All of the contradictions she embodied.

All anyone ever talks about...

...now is how she wanted to go off...

...and live with a married man and his wife...

...in a ménage à trois.

And what do you think about...

...all that?

I have no problem with it.

People should live and love as they wish.

But one thing I've never understood is...

...why did two radicals
such as your parents...

...succumb to marriage?

To legitimize me.

Meet me...

...tomorrow.

Just tell me where.

There is a place I go alone.

I'm not sure what you'll make of it.

My sanctuary of sorts.

Then it will be my sanctuary, too.

I come here whenever I can.

Just to feel her embrace.

My father taught me to read...

...by tracing the letters of her name.

I don't know what it is I'm waiting for here.

Maybe you're just waiting
for someone to reach out and...

...return your embrace.

I thought we would never escape the rain.

I think I'd rather suffer the deluge outside.

If God is everywhere...

...then why must Man erect temples to Him?

Because it is your imagination...

...that is the instrument of moral good...

...not these four walls.

Let's see if the Great Creator
strikes us down.

You shall fear the Lord your God.

Thrones, altars...

...judgement seats, and prisons...

...they are all part of one
gigantic, despotic system...

...designed to crush the soul of Man.

Their empty covenant has no power over us.

I fear not of God...

...or His henchmen on Earth.

Hmm.

Someone's here.

Percy.

Percy.

So the Judgment Day is upon us already.

Hello?

Is anyone there?

Oh, Mr. Shelley, it is a real book.

Your name looks so good
in that gold typeface.

I'm sure it will be more popular...

...than your treatise
on the virtues of atheism.

Ghost stories and romance
novels might sell, my dear...

...but it's books that challenge
the common doctrine and superstition...

...that will truly endure.

We rely on brave works like this...

...to push the world
out of its misery and delusion.

Well done, sir.

I hope you like it, Miss Godwin.

I'm sure I will.

Read it when you're alone.

Oh, give it to me!

Give it to me. Please, Mary. Mary.

"The sunlight clasp the Earth...

...and the moonbeams kiss the sea...

...what are all these kissings worth..."

"If thou kiss not me?"

Miss Godwin?

Yes?

I am Mrs. Shelley. Harriet Shelley.

And this is Ianthe, our daughter.

How can I help you, Mrs. Shelley?

I am searching for my husband.

He's not here.

My father works alone today.

I cannot help you any further.

Miss Godwin!

Stay away from Percy.

I have not seen him in weeks
but I have heard rumors.

Surely a wife of Mr. Shelley
would be impervious to gossip?

Evidently you are a stranger
to scandal, Miss Godwin.

Did you know I ran away
with Percy when I was a girl?

Idealism and love give us courage.

But they do not prepare you for the sacrifice
required to love a man like Percy.

Your husband is my father's student.

Nothing more.

If I see Mr. Shelley,
I will let him know you are looking for him.

Goodbye, Mrs. Shelley.

Claire?

Your wife is very pretty, Mr. Shelley.

Oh, I didn't know you were married.

Yes.

Yes, I've been married for five years now.

Well, well.

We look forward to meeting Mrs. Shelley.

Perhaps she would like to join us
for dinner one evening?

Your offer is most kind, Mrs. Godwin.

However, Mrs. Shelley and I
are man and wife in name... only.

I continue to provide for Harriet and my
daughter Ianthe financially but that is all.

It is an intolerable tyranny...

...to bind husband
and wife to cohabitation...

...after the decay of their affection.

Yeah.

I remember saying something
like that when I was young.

How could you do such a thing?

- What did I do?
- You told her.

I had to.

How could you not speak
of Harriet and Ianthe?

My marriage was a mistake. I believed
that I'd found in Harriet a kindred spirit.

But time revealed only an empty, heartless
cynicism that consumed the both of us...

...in a spiral of hate and anguish.

But when I met you...

...for the first time since
my marriage, I felt alive.

And had you known I was married, propriety
would have gotten the better of you.

Propriety has never been a concern of mine.

I promise you it can be very easy to say that,
but it can be very different to live it.

- Which is what I challenge you to do now.
- You challenge me to what?

To do what your heart is telling you to do...

...and to come away with me.

And let us both find...

...new air to fill our lungs.

A new sun to warm our faces.

See a new life that is actually
worth the living...

...together.

The air in this house was
stifling long before Shelley...

...but the fact that he comes here
every day makes it even less bearable.

Feels like I'm suffocating.

I just want to get away.

At least you went to Scotland.

I've never been anywhere.

Next time we'll go somewhere together.

We'll set off around the world...

...just you and me.

And we'll meet amazing people...

...and go to wonderful places.

And none of this...

...or any of these people,
will matter at all.

They won't mean a thing.

I promise.

I can't imagine anything more wonderful.

Done so soon, Mr. Shelley?

I thought you and Mr. Godwin would
be working through the afternoon.

I'm afraid I don't feel up to much
of anything today, Mrs. Godwin.

Mr. Shelley seems to be suffering
from some sort of emotional anguish.

Perhaps he was disappointed to find that...

...you do not cultivate the same public feats
of wantonness as your dear departed mother.

I would ask that you not
speak ill of my mother.

Oh, but of course.

How dare anyone utter one word out of turn...

...about a deceased person
of such eminent merit?

At least you have not inherited
that strange deficit of hers.

That foolish impulsiveness which mistook
wretchedness with emancipation.

I have inherited nothing
but a fire in my soul...

...and I will no longer allow you,
or anyone else, to contain it.

Are you really involved
with that whoremonger?

I hope those rumors prove to be false.

Just when we have found
an avenue for our salvation...

...you go and turn our fortunes
into yet another scandal.

Do you believe I care at all
for my reputation?

Or yours? I fear nothing...

...but letting your meaningless words
scare me away from my desires.

The sunlight clasps the Earth

And the moonbeams kiss the sea

What are all these kissings worth

If thou kiss not me?

Mary.

What do you mean? But you're already married.

We love each other.
We don't need to be married.

I told you your warped ideals
would come back to haunt us.

Mrs. Godwin, please.

- We are only living by your beliefs.
- What do you know of living your beliefs?

You had no problem with my mother
wanting to live out of wedlock.

Do you really think you can
withstand the consequences of this?

Your mother was tortured by her impulses.

The very passions she thought were
holding her together were working...

...just as diligently to tear her apart.

Don't let them get the better of you, Mary.

And you, forget whatever fantasy
you've woven with my daughter.

Are you really suggesting I could only be
with your daughter if we were married?

How dare you? Come into my house,
you accept my hospitality...

- ...and seduce my 16 year old daughter!
- Is it not you accepting my money?

Go back to your wife!

Never set foot in this house again.

My love, I will return for you.

If you ever see Mr. Shelley again...

...prepare to lose
the love of a father, forever.

Mary!

Mary!

Don't look back, Mary.
Remember, once you are gone...

...none of this, or any
of these people, will matter at all.

But please, Mary, take me with you.

You promised next time we would go together.

I hope I haven't kept you waiting long!

- I guess you come as a pair.
- I couldn't leave her.

- Come!
- Where are we going?

To St. Pancras.

It's down here.

Thank you.

Oh!

It is temporary, of course.

Well, where will I sleep?

Try through there.

I am going to find us a house...

...and I intend it to be perfect.

It already is perfect.

I have you.

Wherever we're together is where I belong.

Are you sure, Mary?

Only if you are ready, my love.

I'm free to write what I please.

Like a torrent of light
poured into a dark world.

All around me I see bliss,
'cause I now know what it is to love...

- Its very essence is liberty.
- ...and be loved.

It is comparable neither
with obedience, jealousy nor fear.

It is there, most pure,
perfect and unlimited.

...close round the dying girl.

Out and in they hurry and spin...

...and dance, through the dance.

They dance through the weary Whirl.

Patience, patience,
though my heart is breaking.

God, there is no question-making...

...of thy body thou art quit and free.

Heaven keep thy soul eternally!

I trust you've enjoyed
the last of the claret?

Would it be unwise to ask how it went today?

My publishers are fools.

Don't let them upset you.

They're not worth it.

But their advance is worth everything, Mary.

My father has cut me off.

He says I've disgraced his name
because of the scandal that surrounds us.

So now you know.

This one. Is that of any interest?

No?

Not interested in those.
What else do you have?

Well, 'Iliad' by Homer in the original Greek.

Father?

It's been weeks.

You're selling it?

Yes.

There comes a time when we all have
to let go of the things we hold dear.

It's your decision, Mary,
and you must live with it.

He claims to love humanity
yet forsakes his child.

I wish nothing more
than that you should thrive.

But, look at you.

So, do you want to sell it?

No.

- Erasmus Darwin once wrote...
- Who is Erasmus Darwin?

A poet and a physician. He once wrote
that a man who has never tried...

...an experiment in his life is a fool.

- ...on my sister's cat.
- Oh, Shelley, you didn't!

No, I didn't. I have
the claw marks to prove it.

What's going on?

I remembered a debt unpaid.
I know how much you love science, Mary.

Watch this. Whoa!

This is incredible.

And this is for you.

Shelley.

You shouldn't have spent money on dresses.

Don't be silly, Mary, it's beautiful.

That is not all.

Tomorrow we move
to our new house in Bloomsbury.

- The servants will meet us there.
- Servants!

Because how can we write if we are forced
to tend to such domestic mundanities...

...as the shopping and the cleaning.

You make everything seem possible.

- It's a step up from St. Pancras.
- Welcome home, Mary.

Stop.

Wait for me!

A day devoted to love and idleness...

...but despite my earthly paradise...

...I feel a frustration born of guilt.

A constant whisper that I am
no closer to achieving my dreams.

Excuse me, are you the poet Shelley?

Yes. Yes, I am.

- Would you sign my pocketbook?
- Of course.

Our friends will be terribly jealous.

There.

Well, have a good day.

My love, I have news.

Oh, my Mary.

Hey, a baby.

What news!

- You're happy?
- Of course I'm happy.

Why? Aren't you?

I've never had a mother.

- What if I fail?
- You think we can only learn by example?

What of pure instinct?

Of the inherent good that lies in all of us?

And that, my darling, you have in abundance.

- As will our little girl.
- You think it's a girl?

She will be our very own prodigy.

Ianthe, come here.

Good girl.

Come, we have to go.

Now.

Take me with you, please, take me.

Please, Mary, take me with you.

Take me with you.

There is someone in my room.

Someone? Did you see him?

No. They...

- No one, nothing.
- It's one of your nightmares, Claire.

- I will sit with her.
- No, no, I will take her to bed.

You need to rest. Think of the baby.

Claire, come on.

She sleeps. Finally.

And you should, too.

I love you, Mary.

Allow me to do it.

Absolutely no clue.

I can't tell if you're
telling the truth or not.

- I am telling the truth.
- Who's paying for it? I'm paying for it?

You're gonna ruin me,
Claire Clairmont. You're gonna ruin me.

- What's all this for?
- Oh, there you are. Guess what?

Tonight we are having a dinner party.

Come here. Don't we deserve a little fun?

My dear, dear friend
Thomas Hogg is in town...

...and has just published his first book.
So I thought we would throw him a party...

Ma'am, how many guests
are we expecting this evening?

Maybe 10.

10 or...

...12? 12. 12.

Did the publisher's advance come in?

I borrowed against my father's estate.

Percy, there's no way
we can afford to pay it back.

Come on. Come here. Come.

I'm sorry it's not much
of a celebration, Mr. Hogg.

It appears we're even more
scandalous than we realized.

Don't trouble yourself, Mary.

Shelley and I have a long history
of courting trouble.

We began writing a novel together back at
Oxford but publishers deemed it too subversive.

We had more success with our treatise
which we wrote anonymously...

- '...The Necessity of Atheism'.
- Because it was published?

Because it resulted
in our expulsion from Oxford.

I'm beginning to suspect you have
a penchant for being anonymous.

What's the point of being published if you
don't have your name on it? Why bother?

I assume you also write?

It's not anything like my parents.

Soon Mary will produce a work
that will surpass all of us.

How about you, Miss Clairmont? Do you write
or are there other tricks you perform?

I have my own talents.

- Claire is an accomplished singer.
- So she says. I'm yet to hear it.

Will you sing for us?

I will sing, and...

...if you happen to overhear...

...I suppose, it can't be helped.

She has spirit this one,
I can see why you keep her.

Ma'am, Mr. Hogg... is here to see you.

Mr. Hogg?

Thank you, Eliza.

Shelley will be sorry to have missed you.

- Would you care to wait?
- I should like that very much, Mary.

- Are you hungry?
- I'm fine, thank you.

You're writing?

Ledgers. But it might as well be Latin.

- Are you schooled in Latin?
- Yes, my father insisted upon it.

Why don't you sit down?

I fear my Latin is not
what it was when I was at Oxford.

May I... practice upon you, Mary?

I'm not sure I'd be of much use to you.

My mind is all over the place these days.

Perhaps you should practice upon me.

I cannot believe you fired
the servant for that, Shelley.

Who do you think you are?

Mary?

What's wrong? Is it the baby?

Claire, could you please leave us?

Hogg came to the house.

And then...

...he made an advance...

- ...but I didn't, I...
- So you did not comply?

Of course not. I would never...

Mary. Hey.

I have no quarrel with you
and Thomas becoming lovers.

Isn't this what we believe in?

Unconventional approaches to living?

After all, why should we not have such
an arrangement? I do not own you.

You are free to be with whomever you please.

Oh, but I don't want to be with anyone else.

Don't you believe that love is free?

Yes.

- Free to be with one person...
- That is poor logic, Mary.

Your choice means nothing to me.

What disappoints me is that you
wouldn't even consider it.

Leads me to question how much
you value your beliefs...

...when you will not even make
an attempt to live them.

I believe, with all my heart...

...there are all sorts of ways of living.

And I will fight for
anyone's right to live accordingly.

But my truth is that there
is no one else for me.

Do you wish to be with someone else?

I merely suggest that you do not offer me
the same freedoms I offer you.

You're a hypocrite.

Like your father.

And you...

...are nothing close to the man
that I thought you were.

Wanting for my 'happily ever after'...

...I lowered my defenses...

...forgetting the first lesson
I was taught...

...that I was brought into
this world to be abandoned.

That I am irrevocably alone.

Mary.

Are you not cold, Mary?

My hypocrisy keeps me warm.

As does my cloak of disappointment.

I'm going to tell Hogg
not to call here again.

I already told him with my fist.

You have to understand, Mary, that...

...I have always lived this way...

...to a fault.

And I thought this was something
we both believed in.

An ideal we shared.

But had I truly considered it, and I let
myself fully understand what I was doing...

...I would never let anything...

...anything come between us.

I have a surprise for you.

We're going out.

Well, what are you waiting for?

Phantasmagoria.

Starring Claire Clairmont, yours truly.

It's Lord Byron.

Let us go and talk to him.

Lord Byron!

My Lord... may I introduce to you
the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley...

...and a great admirer of your work.

I know Mr. Shelley.

I enjoyed "Queen Mab".

- Credit to you.
- Thank you.

And now our final act,
Mr. Brycison the Galvanizer.

Who amongst you has ever wondered
if the dead could return to life?

Thanks to scientific discovery...

...mankind is on the cusp
of conquering mortality.

Using this frog and an electrical current...

...I will demonstrate how muscular
stimulation is possible...

...via electrical means.

Ladies and gentlemen,
may I introduce you to the process of...

...galvanism.

Is that really possible?
That the dead could come back to life?

There is every possibility.

That has brought you back to life.

Oh, Clara, you are so beautiful...

...and tiny. Did you ever see
such tiny hands?

She's so beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as you, my love.

Mary, can I get you anything?

I have all I need.

And what a trio we will be.

Yes, she agrees.

You agree? We're gonna be a trio.

You're gonna be our special
little prodigy. Yeah.

I can scarcely believe that
one small being can be responsible...

...for such joy.

Is all that is truly required
is that we live well, be happy...

...and make others so?

She's sleeping.

We must leave at once.

What do you mean?

What has happened?

Creditors are coming.

- Percy. Clara's not well.
- Mary, we do not have time to discuss this.

It's raining outside. We can't take her.

The doctor said she must keep warm.

We have no choice. Claire, are you ready?

Percy.

Eliza, do not tell them anything.

Claire.

Mary. Come.

Please.

We must get back to St. Pancras.

They won't find us there.

Mary!

Mary, please.

She needs shelter now!

Mary...

...it breaks my heart to see you like this.

The doctor told you...

...Clara was never for this world.

What about your books?

I mean, surely there is something
you would like to read?

The books?

The books survived
the creditors, didn't they?

I miss her, too, Mary.

Desperately.

Desperately.
But I don't want to lose you as well.

Leave me alone.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead

Are heaped for the beloved's bed

And so thy thoughts

When thou art gone

Love itself shall slumber on

You'll come to me in dreams, my love.

I will not ask a dearer bliss.

I dreamed of her last night.

That we lit a fire in the fireplace...

...and the fire's warmth
nursed her back to life.

My love, I haven't seen you
smile at me in weeks.

Oh, Claire.

- He invited you to Geneva?
- No, Mary. Lord Byron has invited us.

- Us?
- You, me and Shelley. All of us.

Do you think you are the only one
who can attract a poet?

No, Claire.

In fact I am very aware of your abilities.

But... we have to go.

I am pregnant.

Who's the father?

Mary. Mary, it is Byron's, of course.

I've been meeting him in secret
for quite some time now.

Don't you see? Geneva will give me
the chance to talk to him...

...away from the crowds of London.

I mean, you, of all people, should know
that this city loves a scandal.

Shelley, we've been invited
to Geneva by Lord Byron.

Lord Byron? Oh, my word!

This is an unmissable opportunity.

This could help us immensely. Um...

- Well, he said...
- I'm not ready for this.

Mary.

Percy, I don't think
I'm ready for this. Please.

- Not yet.
- Oh, Mary, I miss her too.

Oh, I wish I could have saved her.

I'm not asking you to let go of her, Mary.

I'm just asking you
to raise above your grief.

To raise her spirit
to the great heights she deserves.

Thank you.

I was surprised to hear
you were staying here?

Most tourists come to gawk at the place.

We've become accustomed to prying
eyes ourselves. I'm sure we'll manage.

Mr. Shelley!

It is a pleasure to make
your acquaintance once more.

I received Miss Clairmont's letter yesterday
alerting me of this impending arrival.

My Lord, it is an honor.

And may I introduce Miss
Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin?

Miss Godwin.

Forgive me but there is a smile
hidden inside of you, I can see it.

And it is beautiful and brutal.

And I hope that before long
I can coax it outside of you.

And there she is.

- My Lord.
- Claire.

Claire, I must remember next time
that to mention travel plans to you...

...is tantamount to an invitation.

My Lord, I apologize.
I fear there's been some confusion.

If our visit is an imposition,
we will seek lodging elsewhere.

Please, don't concern yourselves.
You must stay here as my guest.

Things have been getting boring round here
and I will be grateful for the distraction.

In fact there is the Duke
of Dulldom himself, Doctor Polidori.

Come with me.

Doctor Polidori, Miss Godwin.
She doesn't smile.

Charmed, Miss Godwin.

Don't embarrass the servants.

Are you a Doctor of Science, Doctor Polidori?

- I'm sorry, but I'm a physician.*
- Science fascinates Mary.

Why is being a physician disappointing? You
save lives. You bring babies into the world.

You help poets with their sleeping disorders.

Doctor Polidori wrote
his thesis on the subject.

And, conveniently, I've become quite
the somnambulist in his presence.

Well, I hope we can liven
things up for you a little, My Lord.

I'm sure you will try, Miss Clairmont.

Would you like to join me
in the parlor, Mr. Shelley?

Of course.

Perhaps you'll be more comfortable conversing
with Claire and Doctor Polidori, my love.

Byron...

I must say, the decor is interesting.

Byron likes to record his 'grand ideas'
on slips of paper...

...and tack them up on the wall.
You should see the one in the parlor.

Gets littered with paper when we have
company, or when he's stimulated.

This is poetry, my brother.

'On Death' by the incomparable yours truly.

Third stanza! Summon the muse.

The world is the nurse of all we know

This world the mother of all we feel

And the coming of death is a fearful blow

To the brain unencompassed
with nerves of steel

When all we know or feel or see

Shall pass like an unreal mystery!

I found this article...

...and recalled your interest in science.

Is this possible?

Reanimation?

That is the claim.

Applying the principle of galvanism
to human corpses.

Every lady in the land knows this.

She walks in beauty like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies

And all that's bright of dark and light

- What?
- Bright! Bright, bright...

All that's best of dark and bright
meet in the aspect of her eyes

That's mellow to thy tender light
which heaven to gaudy day deny

I was sorry to hear about your baby.

Her name was Clara.

I don't mean to upset you.

No.

No, you haven't at all.

I thank you for speaking of her.

It's an unspeakable cruelty
for a woman to lose a child.

I've seen it more times
than I care to remember.

I'm in awe of you, Miss Godwin...

...and your strength to survive it.

Drink!

Drink. Drink.

Why? Why not? Why would I not be sure?

It's called 'The Nightmare...

...The Curse Of The Incubus'.

The Angel fallen from grace
because of insatiable lust.

You know the painter, don't you?

Henry Fuseli.

He was my mother's first love.

She tried to kill herself
with an overdose of laudanum...

...when he left her for another woman.

I've never reconciled how someone
as strong as my mother...

...was so vulnerable when it came to love.

Love will find its way through paths...

...where wolves would fear to prey.

But if she wasn't impervious
to the pain of heartbreak...

...what hope is there for the rest of us?

The great art of life is sensation.

To feel that you exist, even in pain.

I mean, would you not die for love?

After all, what is life
if it does not have love?

Nothing, according to you poets.

You are...

I've always believed that a woman...

...should be intelligent enough to
understand what I'm saying but...

...not intelligent enough to be able
to form ideas or opinions of her own.

You, Miss Godwin,
have the chance to prove me wrong.

Play us a tune, Shelley.

Oh, this infernal copying. I'm bored of it.

I can't transcribe another
word of these poems.

It's been raining like this for weeks.

We're all going to go insane. Can't
anyone think of ways to pass the time?

- Mary, please.
- No.

She's right.

Listen.

There are witches in the wind.

I have an idea.

We are, each one of us...

...to write a story.

A ghost story.

It's a competition, of course.

Whoever writes the finest story...

...shall win.

Miss Clairmont...

...you...

...your job...

...is to transcribe them.

How dare you?

What right do you have to treat me like this?

Your lover.

Claire...

...you are not my lover.

You are a dalliance.

A lapse in judgment.

A silly little girl.

I'm sorry, have I caused a scene?

Sir, I have an urgent message
arrived from London.

Claire!

Is everything alright, sir?

Claire.

Why... why must they be so vile?

Don't let such cruelty wound you.

You're stronger than you realize...

...and you don't need anything from them.

You don't need anything from them.

Thank you, Mary.

- No!
- I need to speak to you.

No!

I no longer see the world...

...and its works as they before
appeared to me.

But now misery has come home...

...and men appear to me as monsters...

...thirsting for each other's blood.

And I, a miserable spectacle
of wrecked humanity...

...pitiable to others
and intolerable to myself.

Has Claire risen?

She sent down word.
She is feeling unwell this morning.

Where is Shelley?

I had assumed he was with you.

I think we've found him.

Mr. Shelley.

You look like you could do
with some breakfast.

Do I?

How were the taverns?

Disgusting.

I, uh...

...I started upon my story.

I've called it 'The Vampyre'.

Very well. Well, we have our first story.

A vampire.

I thought the challenge
was a... was a ghost story?

Not a childish superstition.

You do not believe in vampires, Mr. Shelley?

No more than I believe in physicians.

Percy, that's quite enough.

I thought you would know intimately
about the existence of nocturnal beings...

...who exploit the vulnerable.

- Did you just slap him?
- Madam, you have my sympathy.

No story from Polidori.

How disappointing.

Whatever shall we do
to entertain ourselves now?

Well, I'm going to go riding.

I need something thick between my legs.

What's wrong with you?

You think I'm an idiot.

Oh, you claim no interest in Hogg.
That's alright. But the good doctor...

...oh, yes, he's more
to your liking, isn't he?

Where were you all night?

I do not have to justify myself
to you or to anyone!

- You have no idea the responsibilities I bear.
- What responsibilities?

She drowned herself, Mary.

Threw herself in the filthy
water at Battersea.

Who?

Harriet.

My wife.

It's time that we left this place.

Claire?

He doesn't want me.

He said...

...he said that he will provide
for the baby...

...but that is all.

It's been such a mistake.

Mary, it's...

...a mistake.

I wanted to say goodbye...

...to thank you for your hospitality.

I know what you must think of me...

...but I have never considered
myself one for fatherhood.

I am under no illusions about your situation.

- Claire, unfortunately...
- I never loved her.

Nor did I pretend to love her.
Nor do I believe she loved me.

But a man is a man...

...and a girl is a girl.

And when a young girl comes prancing
to an old man at all hours...

...there is but one way.

There is always another way.

And when we make such choices...

...there are inevitably consequences.

Always see.

Safe travels, Mary.

I look forward to reading your work some day.

Rid yourself of the thoughts
and words of other people, Mary.

Find your own voice.

It was a dreary night of November...

...and...

It was a dreary night of November...

...that I beheld
the accomplishment of my toils.

Remember that I am thy creature.

I ought to be thy Adam...

...but I am rather the fallen angel...

...whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed.

Everywhere I see bliss...

...from which...

...from which, from which I alone...

...am irrevocably excluded.

I was benevolent and good...

...misery made me a fiend...

Make me happy.

And I shall again be virtuous.

"But soon", he cried...

"...I shall die...

...and what I now feel be no longer felt.

Soon...

...these burning miseries...

...will be extinct.

I shall ascend my funeral pyre...

...triumphantly...

...and exult in the agony
of the torturing flames.

My spirit will sleep in peace...

...or if it thinks...

...it will not surely think thus.

Farewell."

The End.

Mary. Mary.

It is magnificent.

It exceeds even
what I believed you capable of.

It has so much potential.

I just have one question.

The doctor, he gets all these body parts...

...and he sews them together in order
to make the most perfect creature...

...but when he brings it to life, essentially
what he has created is a kind of monster.

Yes.

Well, couldn't it be something more...
something more hopeful?

Imagine if he could create the perfect being.

Um, an angel.

An angel?

Yes, and in doing so,
he could show what man can be.

He creates a version of ourselves
that shines with goodness...

...and thus, thus delivers
a message for mankind.

It is a message for mankind.

Well, I mean a message
of hope and of perfection.

What would you... what would we
know of hope and perfection?

Look around you.

Look at the mess we've made.

Look at me.

It makes sense this way.

- I'll take it to my publisher and convince...
- No. I will go alone.

You are how old, Miss Godwin?

I am 18.

That really is quite young.

If I'm old enough to bear children,
I'm old enough to put pen to paper.

Curious subject matter
for a young lady, wouldn't you say?

And when that young lady
just happens to be the wife, uh...

...companion...

...of Mr. Shelley.

Are you suggesting the work
belongs to Mr. Shelley?

Well...

...perhaps there are some other writings
of yours that I could compare it to?

It is my story.

Did you ask this of Mr. Shelley
when he first presented his work to you?

Or do you save this insult for young women?

And you dare to question a woman's ability...

...to experience loss, death...

...betrayal.

All of which is present in this story.

In my story.

Which you would have realized if you'd
employed the time judging the work...

...instead of judging me.

Did you finish it?

Yes.

It chilled me to the bone.

It's good to enjoy
a ghost story now and then.

We both know this is no ghost story.

I've never read such
a perfect encapsulation...

...of what it feels to be abandoned.

I seethed with your monster's rage.

I lusted for his revenge.

Because it was my own.

I wonder...

...how many souls will sympathize
with your creature's torments?

More than should, I expect.

It is time I moved home.

You must get your story published, Mary.

Dear Madam, thank you
for sending us your manuscript...

'...Frankenstein or A Modern Prometheus'.

Unfortunately, this is not
a piece that interests us.

- You regret to inform me...
- ...that we shall not be publishing...

- ...your manuscript.
- ...our taste in judgment alike...

- This subject is not to...
- ...taste of our readers from a female author.

In fact, it strikes us as hardly an
appropriate subject for a young lady...

We do not deny that the work has merit
but we are cautious in proceeding.

The truth is you have
nowhere else to go with your story.

The Lackington Group will publish it.
500 copies will be printed.

It will be published anonymously,
provided you write the introduction.

Well, of course. I'd be delighted.

So everyone will think you wrote it.

Provided it's published, what does it matter?

What does it matter?

How is it possible
that you still don't understand?

You want me to abandon my claim to it
because my gender might spoil its success.

- I never said that.
- You don't have to.

Not once do you ever think about
the consequences of your actions!

You bear just as much
responsibility for our life as I.

I'm not some grand architect
of our misery, Mary.

You bear the responsibility.

I bear the responsibility
of ever believing in you!

- Thank you.
- John!

- You look...
- Like I've seen better days?

Mr. Godwin said the same.

You saw my father?

Yes. His shop is stocking my work.

- You finished it.
- Not quite.

- Lord Byron?
- I'd all but forgotten about it until...

...Byron's publisher somehow
got ahold of it and printed it as his.

I tried to assert my rights as
the true author but in response...

...I've only been called a plagiarist.

I will write to Byron and appeal
to him to tell the truth.

He has already tried.

He despises the story.

The public just has no interest in the truth.

What about your mysterious masterpiece?

The absence of your name was notable.

It is ironic, isn't it?

I write a story lampooning Byron...

...the blood-sucking devourer
of souls and he gets all the credit.

While you wrote about a desperately
lonely and abandoned creature.

Abandoned by
an irresponsible narcissist and...

Shelley gets all the credit.

Nonetheless, congratulations.

Shelley must be pleased.

I haven't seen Shelley in months.

It's for you.

We have created monsters, Mary.

But let's not let them devour us.

Gentlemen, welcome. Thank you for coming.

We're here to celebrate the...

...the success of 'Frankenstein;
Or The Modern Prometheus'.

It's a remarkable story
asserting, as it does, the...

...absolute human necessity for connection.

From the moment Doctor Frankenstein's
creature opens its eyes...

...it seeks the touch of its creator.

But he recoils in terror...

...leaving the creature to its first
of many experiences of neglect...

...and isolation.

And if only Frankenstein had been
able to bestow upon his creation...

...a compassionate touch. A kind word.

What a tragedy might have been avoided.

But it is a credit to the writer...

...that it is these very thoughts
that continue to run through our minds...

...long after we've turned
the final page of this book...

...which I know you all agree
is one of the most complete and...

...certainly one of the most
original publications of our age.

As...

Thank you.

Thank you.

I know many of you wonder...

...who could have written
this horrific tale...

...and why was it published anonymously.

I see some of you suggest
that the work belongs to me.

Indeed, you could say that the work
would not even exist without my contribution.

But to my shame...

...the only claim I remotely
have to this work...

...is inspiring the desperate loneliness...

...that defines Frankenstein's creature.

The author of 'Frankenstein;
Or A Modern Prometheus' is, of course...

...Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin.

It is a work of singular genius
and she is indebted to no one...

...in its creation.

Percy.

Mary.

I really thought you'd left for good.

I never promised you a life without misery...

...but I underestimated
the depths of despair...

...and the weight of regret
we were to endure.

I lost everything to be with you, Percy.

Always set out to create
something wonderful...

...something beautiful.

But something volatile seethed within us.

Behold...

...the monster galvanized...

...but if I had not learned to fight...

...through the anguish...

I would not have found this voice again.

My choices made me who I am.

And I regret nothing.

You were soon borne away by the waves...

...and lost...

...in darkness and distance.