Thinking back on our discussion of ...
12 May, 2018: “Manfred” by Lord Byron
After being surrounded by the beauties and dangers of nature for the entirety of the day, a cozy yet academic evening awaited us. It was indeed only fitting that after climbing to the top of a mountain to admire the snowy and breath-taking landscape, the dramatic poem “Manfred” by Lord Byron was analysed. Even more fitting was then the question that opened and channelled our discussion: What is the relationship between nature and Manfred himself?
Written among 1816 and 1817, this dramatic poem focuses on Manfred’s personality and his relationship towards nature. In fact, gone mad because of his own destructive actions and feelings, Manfred tries to find solace in the landscape and its dangers. Firstly, then, it can be useful to clarify what type of character Manfred is: he can be considered as a Byronic hero. Indeed, he is an outlaw, a loner, a transgressive type of character; he believes himself as intellectually superior compared to others, has a mysterious past and has a sense of guilt weighing down on his shoulders because of a crime previously committed. The first Byronic hero is present in Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage and from then on, the majority of oriental tales offer a version of it among its cast of characters. What is different in “Manfred” is the fact that, for the first time, the reader discovers the formerly mentioned crime committed by the character; a crime that separates Manfred from the others but also – because of the sorrow and the pain the character feels – connects him to society by becoming this “every man” kind of figure. Conflicts and tensions are then the core of this work and it is not surprising that they also are the focus of the relationship between Manfred himself and nature. By analysing three passages – one of which extrapolated by Byron’s journal – it is possible to underline and discuss the response to the sublime, the conflict between intellect and nature, and the relationship with the landscape.
It is indeed this latter question that opened the discussion. By examining a passage in Byron’s personal journal, in which he describes his ascending the Jungfrau, it is possible to highlight the duality that underscores the relationship between man and nature. To be more precise, it is interesting to notice how nature is both appreciated for its beauties but also dreaded for its dangers; in fact, the landscape is described through oxymorons which create a duality typical of the sublime. “Starlight – beautiful – but a devil of a path”, “boiling sea of cloud”, these are just a couple of examples that underline the duality of the landscape. The contrasting religious connotations linked to nature inscribe themselves as well in this duality since, indeed, “the Ocean of Hell” is in strong opposition with “the day as fine in point of weather – as the day on which Paradise was made”. Nature is thus both heavenly and hellish, both beautiful and threatening. It is also both daunting, factual and playful. As a matter of fact, by describing the mountains, on one hand, by their height – “the summit – 7000 feet (English feet) above the level of the sea”, “the height of the Jung frau is 13000 feet above the sea” – the landscape is celebrated, and its majestic and intimidating features are emphasised. On the other hand, though, nature is also something that one can play with: “[Byron] made a snowball & pelted H[obhouse] with it”, “[Hobhouse] & [Byron] were in the mud together – bemired all over – but not hurt – laughed & rode on”. Again then, the duality of nature is evident since the shifting in tones – from grand and metaphysical to comical and human – also inscribes in this dualness that depicts the relationship between nature and man.
This duality is indeed a characteristic of the Romantic sublime and it is by analysing passages from “Manfred” itself that the response of the character to the sublime can be discussed. It is then interesting to notice that the response is a contradictory one. Manfred is not attracted by the sublime but is, in fact, almost repelled by it: “[w]hy are ye so beautiful? I cannot love ye” is what Manfred screams at the mountains. His reaction is, hence, anti-sublime since he does not feel attraction towards nature but resists it: “[t]here is a power upon me which withholds,/ And makes it my fatality to live”. Manfred’s feelings towards the sublime are reluctant and the reality of the landscape – compared to his imagination of it – dictates the fact that he cannot feel anything. Just like Rousseau affirms then, Manfred goes to the mountains to forget his past and his mistakes. The relationship to nature is then conflicted and different from the conventions of the Romantics, specifically because of this distance between human and nature: Manfred detaches himself from nature and from the sublime by preferring death by poetic means instead of death by the landscape.
Numerous other tensions – such as death and life, togetherness and loneliness to name just a few – can describe the relationship towards the landscape and, specifically, the conflict between intellectual hunter and natural hunter. Indeed, this last opposition is embodied by the characters of Manfred and the Chamois Hunter. Their different perspective regarding nature are clearly shown through their reaction to the rising mist. Our protagonist sees the mist as a symbol, as a metaphor – “[t]he mists boil up around the glaciers; clouds/ Rise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphury,/ Like foam from the roused ocean of deep Hell” – whereas the Chamois Hunter, a practical and materialistic man, sees the fog as something dangerous and that can create difficulties – “[t]he mists begin to rise from up the valley;/ I’ll warn him to descend, or he may chance/ To lose at once his way and life together”. It is then clear the difference between an intellectual approach to nature (Manfred’s) and a more natural one (Chamois Hunter’s). Nonetheless, towards the end of the dramatic poem, it is possible to notice a development in the character of Manfred. In fact, he learns from the Chamois Hunter to be a part of a community: Manfred was a solitary figure, a rejected and lonely man but through the teachings of the Chamois Hunter, he realises the importance of society since, indeed, his last words are uttered to another man.
Internal and external struggles are the core of Byron’s dramatic poem. Conflicts, divisions and harmonies are what define Manfred, his personality and his relationship towards nature. The beauties of nature are highlighted just as much as its dangers, loneliness and community are entwined, life and death walk hand in hand; after all, “'tis not so difficult to die”. To ease these internal conflicts which started to affect the students, cake was offered and enjoyed, and the discussion came to an end.
Giulia Sormani
30th of April 2018 - 'The Matron's Tale'
Our stay in Grasmere coming to an end, we walked for one last time to the Jerwood centre to attend our final seminar session lead by the Professor Sally Bushell. During this session, we focused on William Wordsworth’s poem ‘The Matron’s Tale’; we explored how to work with manuscripts and in what way the material itself could inform us.
Four different aspects were stressed concerning the observation of manuscripts: the material object or what is it written on and with; the context of composition and the external factors of when and why it was written; marks and acts on the pages of the manuscript such as changes of intentions leading to changes of meaning; and the meaning of the work of art or the content of the poem. We learnt about the different stages of the writing and editing process, distinguishing the private and the public stages. Comparing the different versions and stages of a text allows one to observe how words change through the different manuscripts and therefore to gain a better understanding of the author’s intentions, doubts and thought processes.
We then used the theoretical tools we had just learnt to analyse the different states of the poem ‘The Matron’s Tale’. This poem was originally part of another one from Wordsworth; ‘Michael’ which was published in Lyrical Ballads. ‘The Matron’s Tale’ is a self-contained narrative about a shepherd Michael and his son Luke. We looked at four different versions of ‘The Matron’s Tale’, either still being part of the poem ‘Michael’ or revised for The Prelude. One of the main question that rose during the discussion is why would Wordsworth take it out from the main poem and make it into a separate text and if we could identify elements on the manuscripts that could predict this move. We thought that it might be because it pulls against the main poem being focused on Michael whereas this part is more centered around Luke. By observing the second manuscript we could already tell that he was planning on relocating it in the Prelude as most of the modifications were there to make the text less ‘personal’ by modifying names and being separate from ‘Michael’. It came out that the most interesting parts of the manuscripts were the messy bits.
Out of all the seminar sessions in Grasmere, it was probably the most rewarding one as a student. Indeed, during the previous ones we mainly learnt how to handle manuscripts so we do not damage them and conserve them in the best possible way, though these moments were necessary and greatly informative (even very funny), we looked at the material with more distance concerning literary analysis. However, throughout this session we were able to do some close readings on the original manuscripts which was more than gratifying and truly a beautiful opportunity. Retrospectively, this session also impacted me in a broader sense because it highlighted how ‘unfixed’ literary pieces could be and that it is often times an ongoing process. Observing the different stages and modulations of a text demystified the sometimes scary creative act of writing. The need of having a final and neat version that one would not want to modify in any ways seems less relevant, and it is quite a release!
Swaha Somanadan
Four different aspects were stressed concerning the observation of manuscripts: the material object or what is it written on and with; the context of composition and the external factors of when and why it was written; marks and acts on the pages of the manuscript such as changes of intentions leading to changes of meaning; and the meaning of the work of art or the content of the poem. We learnt about the different stages of the writing and editing process, distinguishing the private and the public stages. Comparing the different versions and stages of a text allows one to observe how words change through the different manuscripts and therefore to gain a better understanding of the author’s intentions, doubts and thought processes.
We then used the theoretical tools we had just learnt to analyse the different states of the poem ‘The Matron’s Tale’. This poem was originally part of another one from Wordsworth; ‘Michael’ which was published in Lyrical Ballads. ‘The Matron’s Tale’ is a self-contained narrative about a shepherd Michael and his son Luke. We looked at four different versions of ‘The Matron’s Tale’, either still being part of the poem ‘Michael’ or revised for The Prelude. One of the main question that rose during the discussion is why would Wordsworth take it out from the main poem and make it into a separate text and if we could identify elements on the manuscripts that could predict this move. We thought that it might be because it pulls against the main poem being focused on Michael whereas this part is more centered around Luke. By observing the second manuscript we could already tell that he was planning on relocating it in the Prelude as most of the modifications were there to make the text less ‘personal’ by modifying names and being separate from ‘Michael’. It came out that the most interesting parts of the manuscripts were the messy bits.
Out of all the seminar sessions in Grasmere, it was probably the most rewarding one as a student. Indeed, during the previous ones we mainly learnt how to handle manuscripts so we do not damage them and conserve them in the best possible way, though these moments were necessary and greatly informative (even very funny), we looked at the material with more distance concerning literary analysis. However, throughout this session we were able to do some close readings on the original manuscripts which was more than gratifying and truly a beautiful opportunity. Retrospectively, this session also impacted me in a broader sense because it highlighted how ‘unfixed’ literary pieces could be and that it is often times an ongoing process. Observing the different stages and modulations of a text demystified the sometimes scary creative act of writing. The need of having a final and neat version that one would not want to modify in any ways seems less relevant, and it is quite a release!
Swaha Somanadan
28 April 2018 – DOROTHY WORDSWORTH'S GRASMERE JOURNAL AND POEMS
- Biographical elements
- Manuscripts
- Textual Analysis: Grasmere Journals
- Hike on a path the Wordsworths used to go + reading of their poetry
Téo Verhoeven
Bibliography:
Andrew Ashfield and Peter de Bolla, The Sublime: A reader in British Aesthetic Theory (1996:130).
Lucy Newlyn, William and Dorothy Wordsworth: All in Each Other (Oxford University Press, 2013).
Childe Harold's PiLgrimage, Canto III
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage IIIsees the speaker travel through the Swiss landscape, describing the majesty of towering mountains, and the gentle stillness of lakes. These experiences and appreciations of Nature correspond to what we now consider to be ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ Romanticism.
Lord Byron, notorious during his time, caught the attention of the general public after the publication of the first two cantos of his Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage: ‘I woke up one morning and found myself famous.’ The tale catalogues the journey of a young knight, written while Byron himself was on a Grand Tour of Europe, and draws on the epic and pilgrimage genres, similar to Edmund Spenser’s Faerie Queene. While containing typical elements of the epic genre (such as an epic setting, historical grounding, and a hero protagonist), Pilgrimagedeparts from this categorisation through its rather earthly concerns, showcasing a more personal and introspective struggle rather than one directed at an adversary. With Childe Harold, Byron not only created a character whom readers relate to, but also brought about the beginning of the Byronic Hero.
In contrast to the first two cantos, the third is written after Byron’s self-imposed exile from Britain, and has a more introverted, contemplative focus. His reputation of being ‘mad, bad, and dangerous to know’ eventually developed into rumours of an incestuous affair, catalysing his departure to mainland Europe. At stanza 62, the hero encounters the Alps for the first time, immediately remarking upon their majesty and superiority: ‘Above me are the Alps, / The Palaces of Nature’ (st.62, l.590-1) that ‘leave vain man below’ (l.598), immediately placing man and Nature on two separate and hierarchical planes of existence. The hero then journeys on, musing about Avenches, Geneva, Ferney and Lausanne, and the heroic deeds of men and a young woman. The speaker sets himself apart from the rest of humanity, seeming as an observer and contemplator of, but not a fellow to, others.
Though Childe Harold immediately perceives himself to be apart from other men, he is also not on the plane of Nature, though attains a reciprocity with it in the stanzas 71 through 75. The speaker begins by asking, ‘Is it not better, then, to be alone, / And love Earth only for its earthly sake?’ (st.71, l.671-2). Here, still, the speaker is apart from humanity, but also from Nature. In the following stanza, he declares to be ‘Portion of that around me’ (st.72, l.681); his subjectivity is more fluid, fragmented, and no longer a whole in itself, but a part of Nature. The proximity he feels to Nature is expressed in how ‘High mountains are a feeling, but the hum / Of human cities torture’ (l.682-3) – Nature resonates with him more than people, whose presence is absence in Childe Harold’s ‘peopled desert past’ (st.73, l.690). He yearns to break from the links to humanity which are as a prison to him: unnatural, man-made, and constraining, as conveyed by the descriptions of the ‘fleshly chain’ (st.72, l.685) and ‘the clay-cold bonds which round our being cling’ (st.73, l.696). Though he concedes that man and Nature reconcile when ‘elements to elements conform’ (st.74, l.702), he believes that he already ‘[shares] at times the immortal lot’ (l.706), and that, furthermore, Nature reciprocates. He asks: ‘Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part / Of me and of my soul, as I of them?’ (st.75, l.707-8), ultimately opposing himself to the ‘worldly phlegm’ (l.713) of humanity, and insisting on the mutuality between Nature and himself.
The incorporation of Nature that Childe Harold gradually progresses to is characteristic of ‘masculine Romanticism’ with its focus on the experience of the sublime, in contrast to a more ‘feminine’ Romanticism – characteristic of Dorothy Wordsworth’s writing, and at times present in William’s – which is centred on appreciation rather than appropriation. The sublime is ‘All that expands the spirit, yet appals’ (st.62, l.596) – that which terrifies man through the realisation of his insignificance, while simultaneously delighting him in his impunity. The experience of the external sublime is internalised, the threat is pacified, creating a kind of ecstasy. This internalisation, such as undergoes Childe Harold when he becomes a part of Nature and it of him, is inevitably an appropriation, which contrasts starkly to the respect the speaker of Wordsworth’s ‘Nutting’ calls for, when he says, ‘move along these shades / In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand / Touch–for there is a Spirit in the Woods’ (l.54-6). This corresponds to notions of what Anne K. Mellor has identified as ‘feminine’ Romanticism, particularly through the conception of a self ‘that is profoundly connected to its environment, to those “harmonious powers” of sunshine and storm, of nature and human society, that surround it, direct it, even consume it’ (Mellor 1993, p.156). Childe Harold’s journey that sees him empowered by the majesty of Nature, contrasts to the quiet appreciation that the Wordsworths espouse, and especially to the existence besideNature described by Dorothy Wordsworth in her journals which is characterised as a more ‘feminine’ Romanticism.
However, in between contemplating and incorporating landscapes, Childe Harold does stop to consider and admire the still Leman lake. He contrasts the ‘ocean’s roar’ (st.85, l.803) to the lake’s ‘soft murmuring’ (ibid.), which he likens to a sister’s voice chastising him ‘That [he] with stern delights should e’er have been so moved’ (l.805). This is a turning point where Childe Harold is moved by Nature without grand or terrifying landscapes, but rather struck by moments of stillness. In the following few stanzas, there is a greater focus on the quiet of the scene: the ‘hush of night’ (st.86, l.806), the ‘grasshopper who [chirps] one good-night carol more’ (l.814), the bird that ‘Starts into voice a moment, then is still’ (st.87, l.818), and the stars that overlook it all. The reverence that the speaker demonstrates for the starlit, silent scene where ‘All is concenter’d in a life intense’ (st.89, l.838) confirms his recent recognition of the power of stillness.
Throughout the second half of the third canto of Byron’s Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, the speaker maintains a turbulent relationship with that which surrounds him. He insists on the chasm between Nature and people, and the even greater distance between himself and those who do not look up to perceive Nature. Progressively, he feels himself become a part of Nature, meanwhile absorbing it into himself. However, he alternates between this appropriation of Nature, and a more distanced appreciation, demonstrating both masculine and feminine Romanticisms.
Reference:
Mellor, Anne K. Romanticism & Gender. New York: Routledge, 1993.
-OD
Lord Byron, notorious during his time, caught the attention of the general public after the publication of the first two cantos of his Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage: ‘I woke up one morning and found myself famous.’ The tale catalogues the journey of a young knight, written while Byron himself was on a Grand Tour of Europe, and draws on the epic and pilgrimage genres, similar to Edmund Spenser’s Faerie Queene. While containing typical elements of the epic genre (such as an epic setting, historical grounding, and a hero protagonist), Pilgrimagedeparts from this categorisation through its rather earthly concerns, showcasing a more personal and introspective struggle rather than one directed at an adversary. With Childe Harold, Byron not only created a character whom readers relate to, but also brought about the beginning of the Byronic Hero.
In contrast to the first two cantos, the third is written after Byron’s self-imposed exile from Britain, and has a more introverted, contemplative focus. His reputation of being ‘mad, bad, and dangerous to know’ eventually developed into rumours of an incestuous affair, catalysing his departure to mainland Europe. At stanza 62, the hero encounters the Alps for the first time, immediately remarking upon their majesty and superiority: ‘Above me are the Alps, / The Palaces of Nature’ (st.62, l.590-1) that ‘leave vain man below’ (l.598), immediately placing man and Nature on two separate and hierarchical planes of existence. The hero then journeys on, musing about Avenches, Geneva, Ferney and Lausanne, and the heroic deeds of men and a young woman. The speaker sets himself apart from the rest of humanity, seeming as an observer and contemplator of, but not a fellow to, others.
Though Childe Harold immediately perceives himself to be apart from other men, he is also not on the plane of Nature, though attains a reciprocity with it in the stanzas 71 through 75. The speaker begins by asking, ‘Is it not better, then, to be alone, / And love Earth only for its earthly sake?’ (st.71, l.671-2). Here, still, the speaker is apart from humanity, but also from Nature. In the following stanza, he declares to be ‘Portion of that around me’ (st.72, l.681); his subjectivity is more fluid, fragmented, and no longer a whole in itself, but a part of Nature. The proximity he feels to Nature is expressed in how ‘High mountains are a feeling, but the hum / Of human cities torture’ (l.682-3) – Nature resonates with him more than people, whose presence is absence in Childe Harold’s ‘peopled desert past’ (st.73, l.690). He yearns to break from the links to humanity which are as a prison to him: unnatural, man-made, and constraining, as conveyed by the descriptions of the ‘fleshly chain’ (st.72, l.685) and ‘the clay-cold bonds which round our being cling’ (st.73, l.696). Though he concedes that man and Nature reconcile when ‘elements to elements conform’ (st.74, l.702), he believes that he already ‘[shares] at times the immortal lot’ (l.706), and that, furthermore, Nature reciprocates. He asks: ‘Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part / Of me and of my soul, as I of them?’ (st.75, l.707-8), ultimately opposing himself to the ‘worldly phlegm’ (l.713) of humanity, and insisting on the mutuality between Nature and himself.
The incorporation of Nature that Childe Harold gradually progresses to is characteristic of ‘masculine Romanticism’ with its focus on the experience of the sublime, in contrast to a more ‘feminine’ Romanticism – characteristic of Dorothy Wordsworth’s writing, and at times present in William’s – which is centred on appreciation rather than appropriation. The sublime is ‘All that expands the spirit, yet appals’ (st.62, l.596) – that which terrifies man through the realisation of his insignificance, while simultaneously delighting him in his impunity. The experience of the external sublime is internalised, the threat is pacified, creating a kind of ecstasy. This internalisation, such as undergoes Childe Harold when he becomes a part of Nature and it of him, is inevitably an appropriation, which contrasts starkly to the respect the speaker of Wordsworth’s ‘Nutting’ calls for, when he says, ‘move along these shades / In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand / Touch–for there is a Spirit in the Woods’ (l.54-6). This corresponds to notions of what Anne K. Mellor has identified as ‘feminine’ Romanticism, particularly through the conception of a self ‘that is profoundly connected to its environment, to those “harmonious powers” of sunshine and storm, of nature and human society, that surround it, direct it, even consume it’ (Mellor 1993, p.156). Childe Harold’s journey that sees him empowered by the majesty of Nature, contrasts to the quiet appreciation that the Wordsworths espouse, and especially to the existence besideNature described by Dorothy Wordsworth in her journals which is characterised as a more ‘feminine’ Romanticism.
However, in between contemplating and incorporating landscapes, Childe Harold does stop to consider and admire the still Leman lake. He contrasts the ‘ocean’s roar’ (st.85, l.803) to the lake’s ‘soft murmuring’ (ibid.), which he likens to a sister’s voice chastising him ‘That [he] with stern delights should e’er have been so moved’ (l.805). This is a turning point where Childe Harold is moved by Nature without grand or terrifying landscapes, but rather struck by moments of stillness. In the following few stanzas, there is a greater focus on the quiet of the scene: the ‘hush of night’ (st.86, l.806), the ‘grasshopper who [chirps] one good-night carol more’ (l.814), the bird that ‘Starts into voice a moment, then is still’ (st.87, l.818), and the stars that overlook it all. The reverence that the speaker demonstrates for the starlit, silent scene where ‘All is concenter’d in a life intense’ (st.89, l.838) confirms his recent recognition of the power of stillness.
Throughout the second half of the third canto of Byron’s Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, the speaker maintains a turbulent relationship with that which surrounds him. He insists on the chasm between Nature and people, and the even greater distance between himself and those who do not look up to perceive Nature. Progressively, he feels himself become a part of Nature, meanwhile absorbing it into himself. However, he alternates between this appropriation of Nature, and a more distanced appreciation, demonstrating both masculine and feminine Romanticisms.
Reference:
Mellor, Anne K. Romanticism & Gender. New York: Routledge, 1993.
-OD
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein - Retrospective
Mary Shelley’s famous novel invites the reader to discover the story of Dr. Frankenstein and his creature, which after having been rejected, dedicates his life to destroy his master’s life by killing his loved ones. In his review, Sir Walter Scott states that Mary Shelley’s novel “open[s] new trains and channels of thought” and, indeed, this is what Frankenstein does. He opens new possibilities in sciences, possibilities that were until then thought as being “wild fancies” (Shelley 23), by creating a new race. Besides, the particularity of this novel is that it is told through letters that are sent by Captain Walton to his sister, based on the narrative that Frankenstein relates to the Captain.
At first, completely obsessed by his desire to create a new race, to be able to “renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to corruption” (36), Frankenstein succeeds in the resurrection/ creation of his monster but at the first second he sees the creature opening its eyes, he realizes what horror he made and rejects the creature, who flees somewhere else. Throughout the narrative that the monster gives to Frankenstein, the reader discovers the reality of the monster’s feelings, which is contradictive with every idea and representation that someone may have without having read the novel (the creature is described as a monster without emotions, that simply kills for pleasure). On the opposite, the reader is faced with a monster that, at the beginning, acts as a new born, discovering the world in which he awoke and trying to connect with people, without understanding why they reject him. Then, as readers, we discover that actually the monster was not born as a monster (at least mentally), but he was made a monster by other humans who continually rejected him: “I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend” he claims (78). This sentence appeals to the aspect of monstrosity that is interesting in the book: indeed, the creature is monstrous in his physical aspect but in his inside, he is first benevolent and sensibly moved by traits of kindness (88). By coming to the realization that he is a monster to the human eyes, he feels immense sorrow “I cannot describe to you the agony that these reflections inflicted upon me […] sorrow only increased with knowledge” (96). Rejected by his father/creator and by the entire humanity, he asks for a friend, because solitude is what makes him a wretch, such as Mary when she was sent to Scotland. In that sense, Shelley questions the notion of monstrosity; who is the real monster in that story? Is one de facto a monster because he is physically monstrous? Frankenstein’s obsession to become a God figure blinded him and then, he was unable to fulfil his obligations towards his progeny which brings me to say that he created a monster twice: at first when he infused life into a lifeless body and the 2nd time when he rejected its progeny.
The notion of creation is also an important aspect of the novel, as Frankenstein comes with this desire of creating a new race. He does not only want to produce a scientific exploit by bringing someone back to life, but he insists on the aspect of a “creation of a human being” (35). “A new species would bless me as its creator and source, many happy and excellent natures would owe their bring to me” (36) strengthens Frankenstein’s desire: he wants to obtain the power of God, he wants to be the father of a totally new race without thinking about further consequences. It is also interesting to note the differences found in the novel’s filmic adaptations. In the TV series Once Upon a Time, Doctor Frankenstein does not create a new human being but brings his brother back to life after he was shot. I also came with the thought that, although Frankenstein made a scientific exploit by creating a new human being, he also broke the laws of nature, and such as the narrator in Wordsworth’s poem Nutting, he ended punished and banished by Nature after having destroyed the virgin place he discovered; suddenly everything becomes painful to the narrator. In some way, Nature also gave up on Frankenstein, as his physical and mental health declined until he dies after chasing the monster to the Arctic Ocean. In my opinion, Frankenstein paid the price for having desired to overpass Nature, for his pride. Why did he not give his creature a female companion?
- CM
At first, completely obsessed by his desire to create a new race, to be able to “renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to corruption” (36), Frankenstein succeeds in the resurrection/ creation of his monster but at the first second he sees the creature opening its eyes, he realizes what horror he made and rejects the creature, who flees somewhere else. Throughout the narrative that the monster gives to Frankenstein, the reader discovers the reality of the monster’s feelings, which is contradictive with every idea and representation that someone may have without having read the novel (the creature is described as a monster without emotions, that simply kills for pleasure). On the opposite, the reader is faced with a monster that, at the beginning, acts as a new born, discovering the world in which he awoke and trying to connect with people, without understanding why they reject him. Then, as readers, we discover that actually the monster was not born as a monster (at least mentally), but he was made a monster by other humans who continually rejected him: “I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend” he claims (78). This sentence appeals to the aspect of monstrosity that is interesting in the book: indeed, the creature is monstrous in his physical aspect but in his inside, he is first benevolent and sensibly moved by traits of kindness (88). By coming to the realization that he is a monster to the human eyes, he feels immense sorrow “I cannot describe to you the agony that these reflections inflicted upon me […] sorrow only increased with knowledge” (96). Rejected by his father/creator and by the entire humanity, he asks for a friend, because solitude is what makes him a wretch, such as Mary when she was sent to Scotland. In that sense, Shelley questions the notion of monstrosity; who is the real monster in that story? Is one de facto a monster because he is physically monstrous? Frankenstein’s obsession to become a God figure blinded him and then, he was unable to fulfil his obligations towards his progeny which brings me to say that he created a monster twice: at first when he infused life into a lifeless body and the 2nd time when he rejected its progeny.
The notion of creation is also an important aspect of the novel, as Frankenstein comes with this desire of creating a new race. He does not only want to produce a scientific exploit by bringing someone back to life, but he insists on the aspect of a “creation of a human being” (35). “A new species would bless me as its creator and source, many happy and excellent natures would owe their bring to me” (36) strengthens Frankenstein’s desire: he wants to obtain the power of God, he wants to be the father of a totally new race without thinking about further consequences. It is also interesting to note the differences found in the novel’s filmic adaptations. In the TV series Once Upon a Time, Doctor Frankenstein does not create a new human being but brings his brother back to life after he was shot. I also came with the thought that, although Frankenstein made a scientific exploit by creating a new human being, he also broke the laws of nature, and such as the narrator in Wordsworth’s poem Nutting, he ended punished and banished by Nature after having destroyed the virgin place he discovered; suddenly everything becomes painful to the narrator. In some way, Nature also gave up on Frankenstein, as his physical and mental health declined until he dies after chasing the monster to the Arctic Ocean. In my opinion, Frankenstein paid the price for having desired to overpass Nature, for his pride. Why did he not give his creature a female companion?
- CM
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