Hello Romanticists,
On Thursday we will be discussing the first volume of Mary
Shelley’s Frankenstein and even if
you have not read it before, much of the novel will feel eerily familiar. The opening lines are written by a man about
to set sail to an isolated polar region.
Remind you of anything we read?
It will. Specifically, our
initial narrator writes:
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 it to assure my dear sister of my welfare, and increasing confidence
in the success of my undertaking.
A male author imposes an interpretation (“You will rejoice
to hear…”) on an absent, silent female whose presence is nonetheless felt by
reference to her disagreement with the author: that could easily be a summary
of one of Coleridge’s conversation poems.
The “dear sister” may also remind us of Dorothy Wordsworth, beloved but
silenced companion of so many of William’s poems. Margaret’s “forebodings” might even remind us
of Rebecca’s concerns about another kind of dangerous adventuring: chivalric
quests. Shelley’s novel will provide a
much more strident critique of male ego than any of her predecessors, though.
For your response, close read a passage that relates to one
of the authors we have previously read.
You might choose a passage in which Shelley directly quotes on of our
friends (Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron, and Percy Shelley will all make
appearances). Or you might focus on a
theme or image that other authors have addressed (Mont Blanc and Chamonix, dreams
and disillusionment, the supernatural, etc.).
Happy reading,
Prof. M.
Prof. M.
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| Lynd Ward's illustration of the creature |
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| Bernie Wrightson's illustration of the creature and Frankenstein |
I chose the quote from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, which appears in chapter five of Frankenstein. Frankenstein uses this stanza from Coleridge's poem to describe himself as he flees from the creature he has just created. The inclusion of contemporary literature makes Victor Frankenstein seem more of a real person, and probably had a greater effect in the Romantic era, when The Rime of the Ancient Mariner was a recent work. By quoting the poem, Frankenstein comes across as a well-read, up-to-date man.
ReplyDeleteThe quote is very appropriate for Frankenstein's solitary flight, as both he and the Mariner "walk in fear and dread". There are differences in their situations, though. The quote begins with "Like one who, on a lonely road/doth walk" (The text of Mariner that I used had "lonesome road"). The "Like" makes the line into a simile, not a literal description. It suits the original Mariner, since he is on a ship, not a road. Frankenstein, in contrast, is actually walking on a road, making the simile a close but imperfect fit for his situation. Additionally, the figure in the simile "having once turned round, walks on" - Frankenstein never looks back. He abandons his creature immediately after animating it and has no doubts, only continuous horror.
Another striking similarity between the Mariner and Frankenstein is the presence of animated corpses in both situations. At the passage that is quoted here, the Mariner has just seen his ship manned by the corpses of his shipmates. Frankenstein has just animated a creature composed of cadaverous bits. The treatment of these animated corpses differs greatly between the two works, however. When the Mariner quote is applied to Frankenstein, it is clear that the creature is the pursuing "frightful fiend" in the passage. In The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, the "frightful fiend" could be simply part of the simile, or it could be Death and Life-in-Death, who the Mariner has just seen. It's unlikely that the Mariner regards the corpses of his shipmates as fiends or any kind of pursuing evil. While Frankenstein is quick to regard his creation as a fiend, the Mariner likely refers to general horrors he has witnessed.
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ReplyDeleteI chose to examine Walton’s second letter to his sister, and specifically its second paragraph. Taking a closer look at this passage led me to hypothesize that this sea captain serves as a perfect embodiment of a Romantic poet. Firstly, Walton gripes to his sister that no one on the ship can understand him, since he is so much more sensitive and thoughtful than them. He says that they would not be able to relate to his “enthusiasm of success” or “participate in his joy” or “sustain him in dejection”. This statement of perceived superiority echoes the similar sense one gets when reading the works of Romantic poets. Also, Walton’s unabashed discussion of his emotions is decidedly Romantic (not unlike Wordsworth’s or Coleridge’s exultations over the sublime effects nature had on them). Furthermore, the sea captain tells his sister that he will “commit his thoughts to paper”; again, this hearkens back to Romantic poets exploring their own thoughts and “recollecting them in tranquility”. Walton even declares that he has studied the “celebrated poets” of his own country, which would explain the resemblance between his thought processes and theirs. Like Romantic poets, Walton spends a lot of time in his own mind, concocting daydreams which are, as he puts it, “extended and magnificent”, so much so that he remarks that he has a need to “regulate his mind”! Emphatically Romantic. Finally, he says that his daydreams lack “keeping”, which the Oxford English Dictionary explains as the “maintenance of harmony of composition”. I’m not quite sure what this means, but the ambiguity of this definition itself seems Romantic. :) In short, the wording and content of Walton’s letter to his sister lead me to suggest that the sea captain serves as an embodiment of the prototypical Romantic poet.
ReplyDeleteShelley’s references to Coleridge come up pretty often – she references the Ancient Mariner more than once, even quoting an entire passage. What struck me as Coleridgian as well, though, was her depiction of Frankenstein’s dreams. The imagery she uses to describe Frankenstein’s nightmares (the one right after the ‘birth’ of the monster, and the ones when he lies sick) was highly reminiscent of “Pains of Sleep.”
ReplyDeleteFrankenstein attempts to sleep but is “disturbed by the wildest dreams,” much like the speaker in “Pains of Sleep.” He is tortured by images of “death” and decay (the “grave-worms crawling”) in the same way. He “start[s] from his sleep” like the POS speaker, and is seized with convulsions, much as the drug-withdrawal suffering POS speaker would be. Yet, though the POS speaker sees “fiends” in his dreams, Frankenstein sees them when awake – he opens his eyes to behold the “demoniacal corpse.” He sees it in hallucinations as well, and like Coleridge’s speaker, he prays – he begs Clerval to “save me! Save me!”
But this is not just any demon – it’s the one “to which [he] had so miserably given life.” During his sickbed hallucinations as well, he calls it “the monster on whom I had bestowed existence.” His misery is compounded by a sense of responsibility for his own pain. This is the last element which is so reminiscent of Coleridge. The terrible feeling of guilt which dogs the speaker of POS tortures Frankenstein. His vision of his mother and Elizabeth may play into this as well (though I feel like that is mostly prophetic guilt – he can’t know that his creation will cause her pain as of yet).
Much like Coleridge’s speaker, he is dogged by hallucinations, visions of death and monsters, physically painful dreams, guilt, and the horrible sense that he brought it on himself.
In chapter 4 Frankenstein tells his listener "A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful mind, and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his tranquility.” This seems to oppose and complement Wordsworth’s ideas on the construction of poetry. Wordsworth embraces passion; he is the patron saint of getting carried away. Frankenstein says that single-minded passion is dangerous and should be avoided for tranquility. However, Wordsworth does check his passion by composing when he is reflecting in tranquility. He agrees with Frankenstein because passion channeled without reason can be dangerous and a hindrance to the work. However, unlike Frankenstein, Wordsworth does believe that passion is a useful tool.
ReplyDeleteFurthermore, the general relationship to nature in Frankenstein felt very familiar. Frankenstein obviously places himself above nature; he imposes upon it in the most literal way by attempting to control it. To a lesser extent, the Romantics we read were guilty of the same crime by imposing their human views on the natural world that does not care. Interestingly, the Romantics (Wordsworth and Blake come to mind) use this imposition to come to terms with the limited influence humans have on nature, in Frankenstein Victor learns that even when humans exercise full control over nature, they still take a backseat as he finds himself running from the life he created. Both the limited and full manipulation of nature depicted reads as an obvious response to the age of enlightenment.
Additionally, the absent figure driving the present character motif was reminiscent of Wordsworth’s Caroline sonnet. In the sonnets, the daughter’s absence drives Wordsworth into his musings. In Frankenstein Victor’s mother’s death is felt on every page as Victory fights for control over life itself. The people who are gone have a tremendous driving force in both these works.
(I found it funny that Ernst, like Byron, had dreams of fighting for another country as he was 'desires to be a true Swiss and to enter into foreign service.')
In Walton's second letter to his sister, he describes his deep desire for a friend. This expression of wishing to truly connect with someone struck me as being very similar to Coleridge's desire for connection, as seen in poems such as "This lime-tree bower...". Coleridge's connection poems express his wish for a true connection and understanding shared with another person, as well as his usual failure to attain that wish. In this letter, Walton seems to echo Colerdige's thoughts. He wants someone to share in his joy and help him through his dejection, someone to understand his "romantic" tendencies and help him "regulate" his mind. Although he writes to his sister and seems to be close with her, there does seem to be a lack of understanding between them, as Walton is constantly defending himself and his opinions. One particular statement seems meant to point out that his sister cannot be the friend his looks for, as he says, "You may deem me romantic...". Considering that he states soon afterward that a friend would not despise him for being romantic, this seems to be saying his sister does (at least a little).
ReplyDeleteSo we see that even his closest relative cannot provide Walton with the connection he desires, though that does not keep him from continually trying to fit her into that box by calling her his "dear sister" and telling her to "remember [him] with affection".
Interstingly, as Walton echoes Coleridge in the beginning of his letter, he directly quotes Coleridge at the end of it. He tells his sister he can't possibly communicate his feelings over the upcoming journe. In light of this failure of communication, he proceeds to reference the Ancient Mariner. At face value, it is simply a clever way for him to tell her he will not be as doomed as the subject of tthat poem. But he continues writing to tell her there is a deeper connection - he identifies with Coleridge's love of and velief in the marvellous, in the imagination. When they fail to communicate and connect, both Colerdige and Walton turn to their immaginations, their hopes and beliefs.
On page 60, we catch Frankenstein just as he's brought his hideous monster to life. As Frankie is in the process of running away from his room where he left the monster, he wanders through the entire night, fearing that he'll encounter his monster at any moment. Shelley uses a portion from The Ancient Mariner to describe how Frankenstein felt, thinking he would see his monster around any corner: Like one who on a lonesome road who/doth walk in fear and dread/ and having once turned round, walks on/and turns no more his head/ because he knows a frightful fiend/ doth close behind him tread. This portion basically sums up how Frankenstein looks around every corner, dreading the sight of the monster. As Frankie is preoccupied in his thoughts, he suddenly notices a carriage, and out pops Clerval, his friend. Frankie says that "nothing could equal my delight on seeing Clerval, his presence brought back to my thoughts my father, Elizabeth....scenes of home so dear to my recollection". To sum up- Frankie is lost in his own mind, dreading the monster, when the sudden appearance of Clerval snaps him back to his senses and he fondly remembers home and everyone in it. This moment of "snapping out" reminded me of "It is a beauteous evening", where WW walks with his daughter? and he is so lost in thought, that it seems as if she isn't even beside him at all. After seeing Clerval, Frankie snaps out of his daze, that he had been in for months, as he created his monster, and so too, in "beauteous evening" WW observes and becomes really caught up in his own world, of the Sun and the sounds of the nature, that he is shocked to see his daughter beside him.
ReplyDelete