Summary of Poems and Frankenstein
Summary of Poems and Frankenstein
Summary of Poems and Frankenstein
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Tintern Abbey
The full title of this poem is “Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, on
Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798.”
Memory, imagination, worship of nature, and religion are all themes found in Lines
Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey. The ideas of memory and imagination
connect and overlap in the poem. The themes of worship of nature and of religion
also overlap in the poem.
The subject of “Tintern Abbey” is memory—specifically, childhood memories of
communion with natural beauty. In his youth, the poet says, he was thoughtless in
his unity with the woods and the river; now, five years since his last viewing of the
scene, he is no longer thoughtless, but acutely aware of everything the scene has to
offer him. Additionally, the presence of his sister gives him a view of himself as he
imagines himself to have been as a youth.
“Tintern Abbey” is composed in blank verse, which is a name used to describe
unrhymed lines in iambic pentameter. Its style is therefore very fluid and natural; it
reads as easily as if it were a prose piece.
“Tintern Abbey” is a monologue, imaginatively spoken by a single speaker to himself,
referencing the specific objects of its imaginary scene, and occasionally addressing
others—once the spirit of nature, occasionally the speaker’s sister. The poem also has
a subtle strain of religious sentiment; though the actual form of the Abbey does not
appear in the poem, the idea of the abbey—of a place consecrated to the spirit—
suffuses the scene, as though the forest and the fields were themselves the speaker’s
abbey.
SUMMARY
It opens with the speaker’s declaration that five years have passed since he last
visited this location, encountered its tranquil, rustic scenery, and heard the
murmuring waters of the river. He recites the objects he sees again, and describes
their effect upon him.
The speaker then describes how his memory of these “beauteous forms” has worked
upon him in his absence from them: when he was alone, or in crowded towns and
cities, they provided him with “sensations sweet, / Felt in the blood, and felt along
the heart.” The memory of the woods and cottages offered “tranquil restoration” to
his mind, and even affected him when he was not aware of the memory, influencing
his deeds of kindness and love.
The speaker then says that his belief that the memory of the woods has affected him
so strongly may be “vain”—but if it is, he has still turned to the memory often in
times of “fretful stir.”
Even in the present moment, the memory of his past experiences in these
surroundings floats over his present view of them, and he feels bittersweet joy in
reviving them. He thinks happily, too, that his present experience will provide many
happy memories for future years. The speaker acknowledges that he is different now
from how he was in those long-ago times. In those days, he says, nature made up his
whole world: waterfalls, mountains, and woods gave shape to his passions, his
appetites, and his love. That time is now past, he says, but he does not mourn it, for
though he cannot resume his old relationship with nature. he can now sense the
presence of something far more subtle, powerful, and fundamental in the light of the
setting suns, the ocean, the air itself, and even in the mind of man.
For that reason, he says, he still loves nature, still loves mountains and pastures and
woods, for they anchor his purest thoughts and guard the heart and soul of his
“moral being.”
The speaker says that even if he did not feel this way or understand these things, he
would still be in good spirits on this day, for he is in the company of his “dear, dear
(d) Sister,” who is also his “dear, dear Friend,” and in whose voice and manner he
observes his former self, and beholds “what I was once.”
The speaker then encourages the moon to shine upon his sister, and the wind to blow
against her, and he says to her that in later years, when she is sad or fearful, the
memory of this experience will help to heal her. And if he himself is dead, she can
remember the love with which he worshipped nature. In that case, too, she will
remember what the woods meant to the speaker, the way in which, after so many
years of absence, they became dearer to him—both for themselves and for the fact
that she is in them.
London, 1802
In ‘London, 1802’ Wordsworth nostalgically looks back at England before the
Industrial Revolution. According to him, it was once a place of happiness, religion,
chivalry, art, and literature. Now everything is changed, and it has lost those virtues.
It has become a swampy marshland of “stagnant waters” lost to the scourge of
modernity.
The speaker addresses the soul of the dead poet John Milton, saying that he should
be alive at this moment in history, for England needs him. England, the speaker says,
is stagnant and selfish, and Milton could raise her up again.
This poem is one of the many excellent sonnets Wordsworth wrote in the early
1800s. Sonnets are fourteen-line poetic inventions written in iambic pentameter. A
Petrarchan sonnet is divided into two parts, an octave (the first eight lines of the
poem) and a sestet (the final six lines). The Petrarchan sonnet can take a number of
variable rhyme schemes; in this case, the octave (which typically proposes a question
or an idea), follows a rhyme scheme of ABBAABBA, and the sestet (which typically
answers the question or comments upon the idea) follows a rhyme scheme of
BCCDBD.
SUMMARY
The speaker of this poem, which takes the form of a dramatic outburst, literally cries
out to the soul of John Milton in anger and frustration. (The poem begins with the
cry: “Milton!”) In the octave, the speaker articulates his wish that Milton would
return to earth. He then lists the problems that is ruining the current era in England.
Every venerable institution—the altar (representing religion), the sword
(representing the military), the pen (representing literature), and the fireside
(representing the home)—has lost touch with “inward happiness,” which the speaker
identifies as a specifically English birthright, just as Milton is a specifically English
poet.
In the sestet, the speaker describes Milton’s character, explaining why he thinks
Milton would be well suited to correct England’s current waywardness. Wordsworth
eulogizes Milton in the sestet of ‘London, 1802’. His soul was as bright as a star, and
stood apart from the crowd: he did not need the approval or company of others in
order to live his life as he pleased. His voice was as powerful and influential as the
sea itself, and though he possessed a kind of moral perfection, he never ceased to act
humbly. He thinks these qualities are precisely what is lacking among the English
men and women.
Wordsworth’s ideal vision of life was such that he believed anyone could participate
in it, and that everyone would be happier for doing so. The angry moral sonnets of
1802 come from this ethical impulse, and indicate how frustrating it was for
Wordsworth to see his poems exerting more aesthetic influence than social or
psychological influence.
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE
Samuel Taylor Coleridge was an English poet. He was one of the most influential
writers of the Romanticism movement.
Kubla Khan
It is a poem that describes the poet’s dream of visiting the palace of Kubla Khan, a
Mongol emperor who ruled over the ancient Chinese Yuan Dynasty.
Coleridge had taken a dose of opium as an anodyne, and his eyes closed upon the line
in the book, “At Zanadu Kubla Khan built a pleasure palace.” But this opened his
creative vision, and the poem of about 200 lines was composed in this state of
waking dream. On being fully awake, he wrote the poem down.
The theme of the poem is unimportant. It describes the palace built by Kubla Khan,
the grandson of Chengis Khan, the great ruler of central Asia.
Kubla Khan’ is the finest example of pure poetry removed from any intellectual
content. Being essential to the nature of a dream, it enchants by the loveliness of its
color, artistic beauty, and sweet harmony. Its remote setting and its delicate
imaginative realism render it especially romantic. The rhythm and even the length of
the lines are varied to produce subtle effects of harmony. The whole poem is bound
together by a network of alliteration (repetition of sound), the use of liquid
consonants (non-nasal consonants), and onomatopoeia (word that imitates the
natural sound of a thing)’seething’,’ wailing’.
SUMMARY
In these lines from the poem Kubla Khan, the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge narrates
how Kubla Khan ordered a stately pleasure house to be built and what was
subsequently done to get it built. Kubla Khan ordered the erection of a magnificent
pleasure palace on the banks of the sacred river ‘Alph’ which flowed underground for
a long distance. Accordingly, for this purpose, a plot of fertile land covering ten miles
was enclosed with walls and towers all around. There were beautiful, aromatic
gardens, streams and forests surrounding the plot.
These are the most famous lines of Coleridge’s poem But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
‘Kubla Khan‘and have been highly appreciated for the A savage place! as holy and enchanted
effortless adaptation of the sound and rhythm to the As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
various parts of the descriptions. While describing the And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil
beautiful grounds, the poet seems to have been seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
attracted by the most remarkable mysterious chasm. A mighty fountain momently was forced:
It seemed an enchanted place haunted by demons and Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
fairies and frequented by a disappointed lady-love Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
weeping for her demon-lover under the light of the And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
fading moon. From this chasm, a fountain gushed forth Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
every moment violently. The sacred river, Alph also Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
sprang from here. As it fell into the ocean, it created And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
The next lines further describe the charms displayed by the pleasure palace of the
emperor at Zanadu. The pleasure-house of Kubla Khan was a very romantic and
beautiful palace. The shadow of the dome is seen on the water. The palace was the
construction of rare design and a wonderful triumph of architecture as it combined
in itself a summer and a winter palace. The top of the building was warm because it
was open to the sun while the low-lying chambers were kept cool by ice which never
melted.
“It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!”
In the next lines, Coleridge introduces a beautiful girl brought from a distant
country, to complete the picture of the romantic atmosphere. He says that once in his
dream he saw a girl who was brought from Abyssinia. She was singing of her native
land Abyssinia and Mount Abora. He suggests that her song has a sense of
homesickness. She had been brought from her country to a distant land China and
wanted to return home and to play freely and happily once more with other girls of
her country.
These lines conclude the unfinished poem. When the poet saw an Abyssinian girl
singing a melodious song and producing an exquisite melody on her dulcimer(a
musical instrument) in the pleasure palace of Kubla Khan, his imagination was
seized by the great power of music. In these lines, he says that if he could recall or
learn the ravishing music of the Abyssinian girl, he would build the beautiful palace
of Kubla Khan in the air.
His inspired imagination would create “a willing suspension of disbelief” and the
readers would feel that the entire beauty of the palace has been captured for them.
They would be struck with awe created by his flashing eyes, steaming hair, and
lips.His frenzied condition would frighten them so much that they would guard
themselves against coming into close contact with him. In order to save themselves
from being infected by his magical charm, they would confine him within a magical
circle three times.
Coleridge's poetry is known for its vivid imagery and use of the
supernatural, which are both prominent in 'Kubla Khan.' He was also
known for his experimentation with form and language, as seen in the
complex structure of this poem. Coleridge claims in the preface that he
was interrupted while writing, and could therefore not finish the poem
as he has planned.
Dejection: An Ode
The poet’s heart is numbed by pain in his state as it seems to paralyze his heart. The
poet sees the old moon in the lap of the new moon. This phenomenon, according to
an ancient superstition, is the harbinger of a furious storm that is likely to blow. The
poet would welcome that storm because it might startle the dull pain in his heart.
However, the poet’s dull and drowsy grief finds no outlet.Nature has no life of
her own. We transfer our own moods and our own feelings to nature.
Coleridge felt that his inborn gift of imagination was decaying and that his interest
was shifting to philosophy. His talent for poetry was drying up and he was becoming
more and more of a philosopher. This thing greatly distressed him and he was
dejected at the thought ‘that his interest in abstruse research was crushing his poetic
talent’. The poet expresses grief at his loss.
Seldom has grief found such tragic expression as in this poem which has been called
‘the poet’s dirge (short song or poem composed after someone's death) of infinite
pathos (an appeal made by the writer to the audience’s emotions in order to make
them feel something) over the grave of creative imagination’. The poet proceeds with
an ever-deepening sadness, each stanza charged with heavy gloom. Sadder lines than
these were never perhaps written by any poet in the description of his own feelings.
A remarkable thing about ‘Dejection: An Ode’ is that here Coleridge contradicts his
own previous view of Nature. Before in his poems Coleridge had expressed a belief in
pantheism – the view that Nature is a living whole, that a Divine Spirit passes
through all objects of Nature, that man can establish spiritual intercourse with
Nature, and that Nature exercises an ennobling and educative influence upon man.
But in this poem, Coleridge completely denies this belief.
The entire Ode is full of gloom and dejection but in the concluding stanza, there is a
note of tenderness. The poet here expresses his good wishes for his wife Sara whom
he has addressed several times in the course of the poem. He would like his wife Sara
to enjoy sleep and would also like her to enjoy perfect happiness. He himself is
unable to sleep but he does not want her to have such an experience of sleeplessness.
SUMMARY
The poet feels that the poet within him is dead. So, he longs for a storm that may stir
his poetic talent to revive it. The poet looks at the moon. Against its background is a
disc of light. The poet thinks this disc of light to be the old moon. This reminds him
of the old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence. In the ballad, it was said that an old moon in
the arms of a new one would bring a storm. Seeing these conditions here, Coleridge
thinks that a storm is on its way. In the past, the storm had been a source of
inspiration to the poets. He hopes that the storm and rain will once again invigorate
his mind and get him out of his emotional break-down.
In the next lines, the poet further says that he is in a mood of deep sorrow. No
beautiful object of Nature can charm him. In the absence of the inner joy in his heart,
he does not feel the beauty of Natural objects. They do not inspire him any longer the
way they used to. This grief has been described by the poet as ‘stifled, drowsy and
impassioned.’ It does not arouse the poet even to weep or to heave sighs. His soul is
not lit up with joy. His imagination does not get stirred or inspired.
He thinks that it is now of no use for him to continue looking at the external objects
of Nature. He realizes that joy will come to him from within and not from the outer
world. Nature by itself cannot heal and soothe the deep grief of his heart, nor can the
heart feel Nature’s beauty unless it is stimulated by joy. It is this joy that the poet has
lost.
The lines in stanza 4 show the attitude of the poet towards Nature. The poet
addresses here Sara Hutchinson to explain the things that lend life and glory to
Nature. Coleridge is dejected and has lost his inner joy. Wordsworth believed that
Nature had an independent life of its own. But Coleridge does not seem to think so.
According to him, it is the creative faculty of our mind which gives life and color to
Nature. It depends on our mental state for its existence. It cannot make us happy or
sad. Nature only reflects our own moods. Nature lives in us, that is, it is a product of
our own creative imagination.
Through the next lines, Coleridge explains to Sara Hutchinson, his beloved, the
power of inner joy. This inner joy can be felt only by pure and virtuous souls like
Sara’s. Nature by itself cannot provide any relief to the aggrieved heart. It is the inner
joy of the soul that lends life and glory to Nature. Joy is both life and the emanation
of life.
The next lines contain the saddest thought ever written by the poet. In these lines,
the poet mourns the loss of his powers of imagination. He is utterly sorrowful that he
has lost the essentials of poetry – hope, and joy. Coleridge remembers his early years
when he had hoped for a bright future. Although his life had been hard, his heart was
full of inner joy. However, the ever-growing afflictions had marred his jovial and
optimistic spirit. He had stooped down to the earth. His poetic fancy, which was at
one time sky-high, had now been crushed. Due to this irreparable loss, he now turns
to the philosophical aspect of life.
The next lines are almost the last lines from the poem. The poet is full of sad
thoughts over the loss of his inner joy. The poet within him is dead. His hopes for a
bright poetic future are shattered. He is dejected and disappointed. To get some relief
from this state of mind, he turns his attention to the fierce storm raging outside. o
Coleridge, the wind appears tragic in all respects. He finds its sounds as being of a
sad nature. He is surprised to hear the mad music of the wind. He asks the wind what
it is telling about. Was it telling about some mad rush of rioters and revolters and the
groans of the wounded men in acute pain? But just then the noise or tumult of the
wind weakened greatly.
Half the night is over, but the poet is still awake. He cannot sleep. But for his beloved
Sara he wishes that God would not give her such vigils, that is, may not have to keep
her awake. The poet has himself lost forever his light and cheerful heart, but he
wants Sara to have a joyful heart. He wishes that stars may rise in the morning fresh
and cheerful. He hopes that she may be endowed with the powers of happy
imagination and her eyes may be full of cheering spirits. She may be full of joy and
possess a musical voice.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
Ozymandias
Ozymandias is the Greek name of a pharaoh from Ancient Egypt. He is Ramesses II
or Ramesses the Great. This poem is about the nature of power. It is an important
piece that features how a great ruler like Ozymandias, and his legacy, was prone to
impermanence and decay.
‘Ozymandias’ is considered to be a Petrarchan sonnet, even though the rhyme
scheme varies slightly from the traditional sonnet form. Shelley’s defiance of this
rhyme scheme helps to set apart ‘Ozymandias’ from other Petrarchan sonnets, and it
is perhaps why this poem is so memorable. The reason he did this may have been to
represent the corruption of authority or lawmakers.
The most important theme is the impermanence of a ruler’s glory and his legacy. It is
an implicit hint at the idea of futility. No matter how hard a man tries to rivet his
name, at some point, people will forget him. Shelley describes how powerful men and
their legacies are destined to fade into oblivion.
SUMMARY
In the first line, he talks about meeting a traveler from an antique country. At first,
this line is a tad ambiguous: Is the traveler from “an antique land,” or did he just
come back from visiting one? The reader also does not know where the speaker first
met this sojourner.
The rest of the poem is actually written in dialogue; the traveler recounts his
experiences in Egypt to the poet’s persona.Lines two through fourteen are only one
sentence in length, as well. These lines also contain some of the most vivid and
beautiful imagery in all of poetry.
In lines two through four, the traveler describes a statue he saw in Egypt. Through
the eyes of the traveler, the reader sees two massive legs carved from stone lying in
the desert sand. Nearby, the face of the statue is half-buried. The face is broken, but
the traveler can still see the sculpture is wearing a frown and a sneer. From this, he is
able to tell that this ruler probably had absolute power, and he most definitely ruled
with an iron fist. It is also easy to interpret that this ruler probably had a lot of pride
as the supreme leader of his civilization.
The traveler then turns his attention to the sculptor who made the statue. He
comments that whomever the sculptor is, he knew his subject very well. Anyone
could say that the artist had exceptionally captured the passions of the ruler. Though
the pharaoh is long dead, he exists through the creation of a mere sculptor. So, who is
more powerful in this case? Undoubtedly, it is the sculptor.
He also seems to be commenting in line seven that while there is an end to living
beings, art is eternal—it survives.
In the next line, the traveler provides interesting insight into the leader here. First,
his hands show that the pharaoh mocked his people, yet his heart was not all bad: he
fed and cared for his people, as well. The hand that held the rod fed not only the
citizen but also mocked their pettiness. This line provides an interesting dichotomy
often found in the most terrible of leaders. Besides, the “hand” stands for
Ozymandias as a whole. It is a use of synecdoche.
The words carved on the pedestal, on which the leader sits, also tell of Ozymandias’
personality. He is ordering those who see him to look upon all that he has created but
do not appreciate what he has done. Instead, the speaker has to despair and be afraid
of it. These words perfectly depict the leader’s hubris (excessive pride).
The last three lines, however, take on a different tone. Now, the leader is gone, and so
is his empire. Shelley implements irony into these lines to show that even though this
broken statue remains, the leader’s civilization does not. It has fallen, much like the
statue, and has turned to dust.
These lines are really powerful. The traveler almost seems to be mocking the ruler.
Besides, Shelley’s diction here is important. He uses words such as “decay” and
“bare” to show just how powerless this once-mighty pharaoh has become. There is
absolutely nothing left. The leader, much like his land, and much like the broken
statue depicting him, has fallen. It is in these lines that the theme of the poem
emerges: all leaders will eventually pass, and all great civilizations will eventually
turn into dust.
Ode to a Nightingale
With “Ode to a Nightingale,” Keats’s speaker begins his fullest and deepest
exploration of the themes of creative expression and the mortality of human life. In
this ode, the transience of life and the tragedy of old age is set against the eternal
renewal of the nightingale’s fluid music.
Like most of the other odes, “Ode to a Nightingale” is written in ten-line stanzas.
“Nightingale” also differs from the other odes in that its rhyme scheme is the same in
every stanza.
The tone of the poem rejects the optimistic pursuit of pleasure found within Keats's
earlier poems and, instead, explores the themes of nature, transience and mortality,
the latter being particularly relevant to Keats. The nightingale described experiences
a type of death but does not actually die.
SUMMARY
The speaker opens with a declaration of his own heartache. He feels numb, as though
he had taken a drug only a moment ago. He is addressing a nightingale he hears
singing somewhere in the forest and says that his “drowsy numbness” is not from
envy of the nightingale’s happiness, but rather from sharing it too completely; he is
“too happy” that the nightingale sings the music of summer from amid some unseen
plot of green trees and shadows.
In the second stanza, the speaker longs for the oblivion of alcohol, expressing his
wish for wine and disappear into the dim forest with the nightingale. In the third
stanza, he explains his desire to fade away, saying he would like to forget the troubles
the nightingale has never known.
In the fourth stanza, the speaker tells the nightingale to fly away, and he will follow,
not through alcohol, but through poetry, which will give him “viewless wings.” He
says he is already with the nightingale and describes the forest glade, where even the
moonlight is hidden by the trees, except the light that breaks through when the
breezes blow the branches. In the fifth stanza, the speaker says that he cannot see the
flowers in the glade, but can guess them “in embalmed darkness”: white hawthorne,
eglantine, violets, and the musk-rose, “the murmurous haunt of flies on summer
eves.”
In the sixth stanza, the speaker listens in the dark to the nightingale, saying that he
has often been “half in love” with the idea of dying and called Death soft names in
many rhymes. Surrounded by the nightingale’s song, the speaker thinks that the idea
of death seems richer than ever, and he longs to “cease upon the midnight with no
pain” while the nightingale pours its soul ecstatically forth. If he were to die, the
nightingale would continue to sing, he says, but he would “have ears in vain” and be
no longer able to hear.
In the seventh stanza, the speaker tells the nightingale that it is immortal, that it was
not “born for death.” He says that the voice he hears singing has always been heard,
by ancient emperors and clowns, by homesick Ruth; he even says the song has often
charmed open magic windows looking out over “the foam / Of perilous seas, in faery
lands forlorn.”
In the eighth stanza, the word forlorn tolls like a bell to restore the speaker from his
preoccupation with the nightingale and back into himself. As the nightingale flies
farther away from him, he laments that his imagination has failed him and says that
he can no longer recall whether the nightingale’s music was “a vision, or a waking
dream.” Now that the music is gone, the speaker cannot recall whether he himself is
awake or asleep.
ANALYSIS
The poem itself is very unhappy; Keats is stunned at the happiness of the bird and
despairs at the difference between it and its happiness and his own unhappy life. The
conflicted nature of human life – a mixture of pain/joy, emotion/numbness, the
actual/the ideal, etc. – dominates the poem, so much so that, even at the end, it is
unclear whether or not it happened – ‘do I wake or dream?’
The unhappiness, however, that Keats feels in the poem is not necessarily miserable
– Keats writes that he has been ‘half in love with easeful Death’, and describes the joy
of listening to the nightingale’s song in a sort of euphoria. It can therefore be
considered that Keats would rather forget his unhappiness than die.
There is also a shift from reality to idealism: Keats says that he would like to drink
from ‘a draught of fine vintage’ (a very fine wine) and transport himself to the ideal
world that the nightingale belongs to.
The bird’s song translates inspiration into something that the outside world can
understand; like art, the nightingale’s singing is changeable and renewable, and it is
music that is ‘organic’, not made with a machine. It is art, but art that cannot be
viewed and has no physical form. As night shifts into the day – shifting from the
supernatural back into fact – the bird goes from being a bird to a symbol of art,
happiness, freedom, and joy, back to being a bird. It is contrasted, in the third stanza,
by the reality of the world around him – sickness, ill health, and conflict.
The first half of ‘Ode to a Nightingale’ represents the way man was – the pleasurable
moments of life that overwhelm and leave a gap behind when they’re over; the
second half is maturity, and understanding truth, which leads to pleasure but also
leads to pain.
In the end, Keats realizes that merging with the ‘embalmed darkness’ means dying,
giving himself up completely to death, and becoming one of the worlds that he
admires, however, it would mean that he can no longer hear the nightingale and
would be farther away from beauty. Neither life nor death is acceptable to Keats. He
belongs nowhere.
Ode to a Grecian Urn
‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’ is John Keats’ attempt to engage with the beauty of art and
nature, addressing a piece of pottery from ancient Greece.
The urn itself is ancient. It’s been passed down over the millennia to finally reach
Keats’s presence and, to him, seems to exist outside of the traditional sense of time.
Ageless, immortal, it’s almost alien in its distance from the current age.
Ode on a Grecian Urn’ represents three attempts at engaging with the urn and its
scenes. Across the stanzas, Keats tries to wonder about who the figures are, what
they’re doing, what they represent, and what the underlying meaning of their images
might be. But by the end of the poem, he realizes that the entire process of
questioning is fairly redundant.
The poetic persona has encountered the urn with utter astonishment. He is rather
astounded by the artist who has created this everlasting piece. The depictions on the
vase raise several questions in the onlooker’s mind. Through this poem, Keats’
persona describes it beautifully. In the end, he proclaims the everlastingness of art
through the line “Beauty is truth, truth beauty- that is all”.
Split into five verses (stanzas) of ten lines each, and making use of fairly rigid iambic
pentameter, ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’ is very carefully put together
Keats’ ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’ taps on the themes of the immortality of art, beauty,
and romanticism. The main theme of this poem is the immortality of art. To depict
this theme, Keats uses a Grecian urn and the emotive paintings on this piece.
SUMMARY
During this first verse, we see the narrator announcing that he is standing before a
very old urn from Greece. On the urn, we are told there are images of people who
have been frozen in place for all of the time, as the “foster-child of silence and slow
time.”The narrator also explains to us that he is discussing the matter in his role as a
“historian” and that he’s wondering just what legend or story the figures stuck on the
side of the pottery are trying to convey.
In the second verse, a young man is sitting with a lover, seemingly playing a song on
a pipe as they are surrounded by trees. Again, the narrator’s interest is piqued, but he
decides that the “melodies are sweet, but those unheard / Are sweeter.”Unaffected by
growing old or changing fashions, the notes the narrator imagines the man playing
offer unlimited potential for beauty. While the figures will never grow old, the music
also contains an immortal quality, one much “sweeter” than regular music. The
narrator comforts the man, who he acknowledges will never be able to kiss his
companion, with the fact that she will never lose her beauty as she is frozen in time.
The third stanza again focuses on the same two lovers but turns its attention to the
rest of the scene. The trees behind the pipe player will never grow old and their
leaves will never fall, an idea which pleases the narrator. Just like the leaves, the love
shared between the two is equally immortal and won’t have the chance to grow old
and stale. On viewing the figures, the narrator is reminded of the inevitability of his
own diminishing passions and regrets that he doesn’t have the same chance at
immortality as the two figures on the urn.
The fourth stanza of ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’ really begins to develop the ideas.
Turning to another image on the urn, this time a group of people bringing a cow to be
sacrificed, the narrator begins to wonder about the individuals’ lives. He imagines
the “little town” they come from, now deserted because its inhabitants are frozen in
the image on the side of the urn “for evermore.” This hints at what he sees as the
limitations of the static piece of art, in that the viewer can never discern the human
motivations of the people, the “real story” that makes them interesting as people.
Each time, the reach of his empathy expands from one figure to two, and then to a
whole town. But once he encounters the idea of an empty town, there’s little else to
say. This is the limit of the urn as a piece of art, as it’s not able to provide him with
any more information.
“O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”
The final stanza is perhaps the most famous piece of poetry Keats ever wrote. This
time, he is talking directly to the urn itself, which he believes “doth tease us out of
thought.” Even after everyone has died, the urn will remain, still providing hints at
humanity but no real answers. This is where we come to the conclusions he draws.
There is a sense that the narrator finds the lack of change imposed upon the figures
to be overwhelming.
The urn is almost its own little world, living by its own rules. While it might be
interesting and intriguing, it will never be mortal. It’s a purely aesthetic piece of art,
something the speaker finds to be unsatisfying when compared to the richness of
everyday human life.
The last lines in the piece have become incredibly well known. They can be read as an
attempt, to sum up, the entire process of ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’ in one couplet.
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty” as an idea has proved very difficult to dissect,
however, due to its mysteriousness. It’s unclear whether the sentiment is spoken by
the narrator, the urn, or by Keats himself, thanks to the enigmatic use of quotation
marks.
The source of the speech matters. If it’s the narrator, then it could mean that he has
become aware of the limitations of such a static piece of artwork. If it’s the urn, then
the idea that one piece of art (or self-contained phrase) could encompass humanity
in any kind of complete fashion is nonsensical, and the line deliberately plays off this.
To Autumn
‘To Autumn’ stands as one of Keats’ most image-rich and skilful odes, offering a
sumptuous description of the fall season.
The poem describes, in its three stanzas, three different aspects of the season: its
fruitfulness, its labour and its ultimate decline. Through the stanzas there is a
progression from early autumn to mid-autumn and then to the heralding of winter.
The first stanza deals primarily with the atmosphere of autumn, while the second
addresses autumn in the style of a female goddess, with a trace of the homemaker
about her, and the third stanza goes back to the beauty of autumn, advising her not
to mourn the loss of springtime, for there is ample life in autumn.
SUMMARY
In both its form and descriptive surface, “To Autumn” is one of the simplest of
Keats’s odes. There is nothing confusing or complex in this poem. The first stanza is a
celebration of autumn, although autumn has been taken, in much of British
literature, as the start of death, as a melancholy time, Keats has taken it here as a
fruitful period of existence. There is strong evidence of energy and beauty in the
poem and the atmosphere that is created in the first stanza is ultimately one of
peacefulness. That is not to say that there is not an undercurrent of misery running
through the poem – of course, there is. The idea, for example, of being full of
‘ripeness to the core’ produces the parallel imagery of a climax; this is the ultimate
glory of autumn, the last hurrah before the freezing grip of winter.
The feeling of freedom in ‘To Autumn’ goes on well into the second stanza, but here,
Keats leans in closer. He does not view autumn still from a wider perspective, but
personifies the season itself, to make it, perhaps, easier for his reader to empathize
with the season that he is so painstakingly bringing to life. In the second stanza,
Autumn is viewed as a fertile female goddess – however, there remains a hint of
cruelty to Autumn. Here, it is the word ‘hook’ that provides much of the idea that
Autumn is a cruel, and kind, woman. Although ‘hook’ is a harsh implement, a sound
of war, the very next line is ‘spares the next swath and all its twined flowers’,
implying a sense of fairness and kindness.
In the last stanza, Keats addresses Autumn herself, physically, implying that Autumn
is mourning the loss of spring, and considers herself at odds with her far more
beautiful counterpart. Keats writes, ‘think not of them, thou hast thy music too’,
explaining that Autumn is just as beautiful as spring is and perhaps even more so.
However, as with all of Keats’ poems, that melancholy shows up again in the last
stanza. Although one of the simplest of Keats’ poems, and one of the quietest in
terms of plot, it remains one of his most lauded works – although nothing much
happens in it (it is, after all, following on from the pastoral tradition), the beauty of
Keats’ language and the skill of his mastery show that Keats’ talent was really just
beginning at the time of his death.
When Autumn’s harvest is over, the fields will be bare, the swaths with their “twined
flowers” cut down, the cider-press dry, the skies empty. But the connection of this
harvesting to the seasonal cycle softens the edge of the tragedy. In time, spring will
come again, the fields will grow again, and the birdsong will return. As the speaker
knew in “Melancholy,” abundance and loss, joy and sorrow, song and silence are as
intimately connected as the twined flowers in the fields. What makes “To Autumn”
beautiful is that it brings an engagement with that connection out of the realm of
mythology and fantasy and into the everyday world.
MARY SHELLEY
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley was the daughter of the philosopher William Godwin
and the writer Mary Wollstonecraft, who wrote "Vindication of the Rights of Woman"
(1792). Shelley's mother died in childbirth and she was raised by her father. At age 18
Shelley ran off with Percy Bysshe Shelley, a leading British Romantic poet, who she
married in 1816. The couple had a son, but after her husband died in a shipwreck in
1822, Mary Shelley fell into poverty. She continued to write fiction to support herself.
Frankenstein (1818) was her first and by far her most successful work of fiction.
FRANKENSTEIN
THEME
Romantic writers portrayed nature as the greatest and most perfect force in the
universe. They used words like "sublime" (as Mary Shelley herself does in describing
Mont Blanc in Frankenstein) to convey the unfathomable power and flawlessness of
the natural world. In contrast, Victor describes people as "half made up." The
implication is clear: human beings, weighed down by petty concerns and countless
flaws such as vanity and prejudice, pale in comparison to nature's perfection.
It should come as no surprise, then, that crises and suffering result when, in
Frankenstein, imperfect men disturb nature's perfection. Victor in his pride attempts
to discover the "mysteries of creation," to "pioneer a new way" by penetrating the
"citadel of nature." But just as a wave will take down even the strongest swimmer,
nature prevails in the end and Victor is destroyed for his misguided attempt to
manipulate its power.
Revenge
The monster begins its life with a warm, open heart. But after it is abandoned and
mistreated first by Victor and then by the De Lacey family, the monster turns to
revenge. The monster's actions are understandable: it has been hurt by the unfair
rejection of a humanity that cannot see past its own prejudices, and in turn wants to
hurt those who hurt it. As the monster says when Felix attacks it and flees with the
rest of the De Lacey family, "...feelings of revenge and hatred filled my bosom...[and]
I bent my mind towards injury and death." But in taking revenge, two things happen
to the monster. First, it ensures that it will never be accepted in human society.
Second, because by taking revenge the monster eliminates any hope of ever joining
human society, which is what it really wants, revenge becomes the only thing it has.
As the monster puts it, revenge became "dearer than light or food."
Revenge does not just consume the monster, however. It also consumes Victor, the
victim of the monster's revenge. After the monster murders Victor's relatives, Victor
vows a "great and signal revenge on [the monster's] cursed head." In a sense then,
the very human desire for revenge transforms both Victor and the monster into true
monsters that have no feelings or desires beyond destroying their foe.
Prejudice
Lost Innocence
Victor and the monster's losses of innocence ultimately lead to the deaths of William,
Justine, Elizabeth, and Clerval, four characters whom the novel portrays as uniquely
gentle, kind, and, above all, innocent. Through these murders, Shelley suggests that
innocence is fleeting, and will always be either lost or destroyed by the harsh reality
of human nature.
CHARACTERS
Victor Frankenstein
The doomed protagonist and narrator of the main portion of the story. Studying in
Ingolstadt, Victor discovers the secret of life and creates an intelligent but grotesque
monster, from whom he recoils in horror. Victor keeps his creation of the monster a
secret, feeling increasingly guilty and ashamed as he realizes how helpless he is to
prevent the monster from ruining his life and the lives of others.
The Monster
The eight-foot-tall, hideously ugly creation of Victor Frankenstein. Intelligent,
eloquent, and sensitive, the Monster attempts to integrate himself into human social
patterns, but all who see him shun him. His feeling of abandonment compels him to
seek revenge against his creator.
Robert Walton
The Arctic seafarer whose letters open and close Frankenstein. Walton picks the
bedraggled Victor Frankenstein up off the ice, helps nurse him back to health, and
hears Victor’s story. He records the incredible tale in a series of letters addressed to
his sister, Margaret Saville, in England.
Elizabeth Lavenza
An orphan, four to five years younger than Victor, whom the Frankensteins adopt. In
the 1818 edition of the novel, Elizabeth is Victor’s cousin, the child of Alphonse
Frankenstein’s sister. In the 1831 edition, Victor’s mother rescues Elizabeth from a
destitute peasant cottage in Italy. Elizabeth embodies the novel’s motif of passive
women, as she waits patiently for Victor’s attention.
Henry Clerval
Victor’s boyhood friend, who nurses Victor back to health in Ingolstadt. After
working unhappily for his father, Henry begins to follow in Victor’s footsteps as a
scientist. His cheerfulness counters Victor’s moroseness.
Alphonse Frankenstein
Victor’s father, very sympathetic toward his son. Alphonse consoles Victor in
moments of pain and encourages him to remember the importance of family.
William Frankenstein
Victor’s youngest brother and the darling of the Frankenstein family. The monster
strangles William in the woods outside Geneva in order to hurt Victor for
abandoning him. William’s death deeply saddens Victor and burdens him with
tremendous guilt about having created the monster.
Justine Moritz
A young girl adopted into the Frankenstein household while Victor is growing up.
Justine is blamed and executed for William’s murder, which is actually committed by
the monster.
Beaufort
A merchant and friend of Victor’s father; the father of Caroline Beaufort.
Peasants
A family of peasants, including a blind old man, De Lacey; his son and daughter,
Felix and Agatha; and a foreign woman named Safie. The monster learns how to
speak and interact by observing them. When he reveals himself to them, hoping for
friendship, they beat him and chase him away.
M. Waldman
The professor of chemistry who sparks Victor’s interest in science. He dismisses the
alchemists’ conclusions as unfounded but sympathizes with Victor’s interest in a
science that can explain the “big questions,” such as the origin of life.
M. Krempe
A professor of natural philosophy at Ingolstadt. He dismisses Victor’s study of the
alchemists as wasted time and encourages him to begin his studies anew.
Mr. Kirwin
The magistrate who accuses Victor of Henry’s murder.
SUMMARY
Robert Walton, the captain of a ship bound for the North Pole, writes a letter to his
sister, Margaret Saville, in which he says that his crew members recently discovered
a man adrift at sea. The man, Victor Frankenstein, offered to tell Walton his story.
Frankenstein has a perfect childhood in Switzerland, with a loving family that even
adopted orphans in need, including the beautiful Elizabeth, who soon becomes
Victor's closest friend, confidante, and love. Victor also has a caring and wonderful
best friend, Henry Clerval. Just before Victor turns seventeen and goes to study at
the University at Ingolstadt, his mother dies of scarlet fever. At Ingolstadt, Victor
dives into "natural philosophy" with a passion, studying the secrets of life with such
zeal that he even loses touch with his family. He soon rises to the top of his field, and
suddenly, one night, discovers the secret of life. With visions of creating a new and
noble race, Victor puts his knowledge to work. But when he animates his first
creature, its appearance is so horrifying he abandons it. Victor hopes the monster has
disappeared for ever, but some months later he receives word that his youngest
brother, William, has been murdered. Though Victor sees the monster lingering at
the site of the murder and is sure it did the deed, he fears no one will believe him and
keeps silent. Justine Moritz, another adoptee in his family, has been falsely accused
based of the crime. She is convicted and executed. Victor is consumed by guilt.
To escape its tragedy, the Frankensteins go on vacation. Victor often hikes in the
mountains, hoping to alleviate his suffering with the beauty of nature. One day the
monster appears, and despite Victor's curses begs him incredibly eloquently to listen
to its story. The monster describes his wretched life, full of suffering and rejection
solely because of his horrifying appearance. (The monster also explains how he
learned to read and speak so well.) The monster blames his rage on humanity's
inability to perceive his inner goodness and his resulting total isolation. It demands
that Victor, its creator who brought it into this wretched life, create a female monster
to give it the love that no human ever will. Victor refuses at first, but then agrees.
Back in Geneva, Victor's father expresses his wish that Victor marry Elizabeth. Victor
says he first must travel to England. On the way to England, Victor meets up with
Clerval. Soon, though, Victor leaves Clerval at the house of a friend in Scotland and
moves to a remote island to make his second, female, monster. But one night Victor
begins to worry that the female monster might turn out more destructive than the
first. At the same moment, Victor sees the first monster watching him work through
a window. The horrifying sight pushes Victor to destroy the female monster. The
monster vows revenge, warning Victor that it will "be with him on [his] wedding
night." Victor takes the remains of the female monster and dumps them in the ocean.
But when he returns to shore, he is accused of a murder that was committed that
same night. When Victor discovers that the victim is Clerval, he collapses and
remains delusional for two months. When he wakes his father has arrived, and he is
cleared of the criminal charges against him.
Victor returns with his father to Geneva, and marries Elizabeth. But on his wedding
night, the monster instead kills Elizabeth. Victor's father dies of grief soon thereafter.
Now, all alone in the world, Victor dedicates himself solely to seeking revenge against
the monster. He tracks the monster to the Arctic, but becomes trapped on breaking
ice and is rescued by Walton's crew.
Walton writes another series of letters to his sister. He tells her about his failure to
reach the North Pole and to restore Victor, who died soon after his rescue. Walton's
final letter describes his discovery of the monster grieving over Victor's corpse. He
accuses the monster of having no remorse, but the monster says it has suffered more
than anyone. With Victor dead, the monster has its revenge and plans to end its own
life.
In a series of letters, Robert Walton, the captain of a ship bound for the North Pole,
recounts to his sister back in England the progress of his dangerous mission.
Successful early on, the mission is soon interrupted by seas full of impassable ice.
Trapped, Walton encounters Victor Frankenstein, who has been traveling by dog-
drawn sledge across the ice and is weakened by the cold. Walton takes him aboard
ship, helps nurse him back to health, and hears the fantastic tale of the monster that
Frankenstein created.
Victor first describes his early life in Geneva. At the end of a blissful childhood spent
in the company of Elizabeth Lavenza (his cousin in the 1818 edition, his adopted
sister in the 1831 edition) and friend Henry Clerval, Victor enters the university of
Ingolstadt to study natural philosophy and chemistry. There, he is consumed by the
desire to discover the secret of life and, after several years of research, becomes
convinced that he has found it.
Armed with the knowledge he has long been seeking, Victor spends months
feverishly fashioning a creature out of old body parts. One climactic night, in the
secrecy of his apartment, he brings his creation to life. When he looks at the
monstrosity that he has created, however, the sight horrifies him. After a fitful night
of sleep, interrupted by the specter of the monster looming over him, he runs into the
streets, eventually wandering in remorse. Victor runs into Henry, who has come to
study at the university, and he takes his friend back to his apartment. Though the
monster is gone, Victor falls into a feverish illness.
Sickened by his horrific deed, Victor prepares to return to Geneva, to his family, and
to health. Just before departing Ingolstadt, however, he receives a letter from his
father informing him that his youngest brother, William, has been murdered. Grief-
stricken, Victor hurries home. While passing through the woods where William was
strangled, he catches sight of the monster and becomes convinced that the monster is
his brother’s murderer. Arriving in Geneva, Victor finds that Justine Moritz, a kind,
gentle girl who had been adopted by the Frankenstein household, has been accused.
She is tried, condemned, and executed, despite her assertions of innocence. Victor
grows despondent, guilty with the knowledge that the monster he has created bears
responsibility for the death of two innocent loved ones.
Hoping to ease his grief, Victor takes a vacation to the mountains. While he is alone
one day, crossing an enormous glacier, the monster approaches him. The monster
admits to the murder of William but begs for understanding. Lonely, shunned, and
forlorn, he says that he struck out at William in a desperate attempt to injure Victor,
his cruel creator. The monster begs Victor to create a mate for him, a monster equally
grotesque to serve as his sole companion.
Victor refuses at first, horrified by the prospect of creating a second monster. The
monster is eloquent and persuasive, however, and he eventually convinces Victor.
After returning to Geneva, Victor heads for England, accompanied by Henry, to
gather information for the creation of a female monster. Leaving Henry in Scotland,
he secludes himself on a desolate island in the Orkneys and works reluctantly at
repeating his first success. One night, struck by doubts about the morality of his
actions, Victor glances out the window to see the monster glaring in at him with a
frightening grin. Horrified by the possible consequences of his work, Victor destroys
his new creation. The monster, enraged, vows revenge, swearing that he will be with
Victor on Victor’s wedding night.
Later that night, Victor takes a boat out onto a lake and dumps the remains of the
second creature in the water. The wind picks up and prevents him from returning to
the island. In the morning, he finds himself ashore near an unknown town. Upon
landing, he is arrested and informed that he will be tried for a murder discovered the
previous night. Victor denies any knowledge of the murder, but when shown the
body, he is shocked to behold his friend Henry Clerval, with the mark of the
monster’s fingers on his neck. Victor falls ill, raving and feverish, and is kept in
prison until his recovery, after which he is acquitted of the crime.
Shortly after returning to Geneva with his father, Victor marries Elizabeth. He fears
the monster’s warning and suspects that he will be murdered on his wedding night.
To be cautious, he sends Elizabeth away to wait for him. While he awaits the
monster, he hears Elizabeth scream and realizes that the monster had been hinting at
killing his new bride, not himself. Victor returns home to his father, who dies of grief
a short time later. Victor vows to devote the rest of his life to finding the monster and
exacting his revenge, and he soon departs to begin his quest.
Victor tracks the monster ever northward into the ice. In a dogsled chase, Victor
almost catches up with the monster, but the sea beneath them swells and the ice
breaks, leaving an unbridgeable gap between them. At this point, Walton encounters
Victor, and the narrative catches up to the time of Walton’s fourth letter to his sister.
Walton tells the remainder of the story in another series of letters to his sister. Victor,
already ill when the two men meet, worsens and dies shortly thereafter. When
Walton returns, several days later, to the room in which the body lies, he is startled to
see the monster weeping over Victor. The monster tells Walton of his immense
solitude, suffering, hatred, and remorse. He asserts that now that his creator has
died, he too can end his suffering. The monster then departs for the northernmost ice
to die.
CHARACTER SKETCHES
Victor Frankenstein
The Creature
Captain Walton
Captain Robert Walton is a failed poet and a captain on an expedition to the North
Pole. His presence in the novel is limited to the beginning and ending of the
narrative, but he nevertheless plays an important role. In framing the story, he serves
as a proxy for the reader.
The novels begin with Walton's letters to his sister. He shares a primary trait with
Frankenstein: the desire to achieve glory through scientific discoveries. Walton
greatly admires Frankenstein when he rescues him from the sea, and he listens to
Frankenstein’s tale.
At the end of the novel, after hearing Frankenstein's story, Walton’s ship becomes
trapped by ice. He is confronted with a choice (which happens to parallel the
thematic crossroads faced by Frankenstein): go ahead with his expedition, risking his
own life and those of his crewmen, or return home to his family and abandon his
dreams of glory. Having just listened to Frankenstein’s tale of misfortune, Walton
understands that ambition comes at the cost of human life and relationships, and he
decides to return home to his sister. In this way, Walton applies the lessons that
Shelley wishes to impart through the novel: the value of connection and the dangers
of scientific enlightenment.
Elizabeth Lavenza
Elizabeth Lavenza is a woman of Milanese nobility. Her mother died and her father
abandoned her, so the Frankenstein family adopted her when she was just a child.
She and Victor Frankenstein were raised together by their nanny Justine, another
orphan, and they have a close relationship.
Elizabeth is perhaps the primary example of the abandoned child in the novel, which
is populated by many orphans and makeshift families. Despite her lonely origins, she
finds love and acceptance, and stands in contrast to the creature’s inability to find
true familial connection. Frankenstein constantly praises Elizabeth as a beautiful,
saintly, gentle presence in his life. She is an angel to him, as his mother was as well;
in fact, all the women in the novel are domestic and sweet. As adults, Frankenstein
and Elizabeth reveal their romantic love for each other, and get engaged to be
married. On their wedding night, however, Elizabeth is strangled to death by the
creature.
Henry Clerval
The creature lives for some time in a hovel joined to a cottage, which is inhabited by
the De Laceys, a peasant family. By observing them, the creature learns to speak and
read. The family is comprised of the old, blind father De Lacey, his son Felix, and his
daughter Agatha. Later, they welcome the arrival of Safie, an Arabian woman who
fled Turkey. Felix and Safie fall in love. The four peasants live in poverty, but the
creature grows to idolize their compassionate, gentle ways. They serve as an example
of a makeshift family, dealing with loss and hardship but finding happiness in each
other’s companionship. The creature longs to live with them, but when he reveals
himself to the peasants, they drive him away out of terror.
William Frankenstein
William is Victor Frankenstein's s younger brother. The creature happens upon him
in the woods and tries to befriend him, thinking that the child’s youth would make
him unprejudiced. However, William is terrified of the ugly creature. His reaction
seems to suggest that the creature's monstrosity is too much for even the innocent. In
a fit of rage, the monster strangles William to death. Justine Moritz, the orphan
nanny, is framed for his death and later hanged for the alleged crime.
QUOTES
Quotes About Knowledge
"It was the secrets of heaven and earth that I desired to learn; and whether it was
the outward substance of things or the inner spirit of nature and the mysterious
soul of man that occupied me, still my inquiries were directed to the metaphysical,
or in it highest sense, the physical secrets of the world." (Chapter 2)
This statement is made by Victor Frankenstein at the start of the novel as he recounts
his childhood to Captain Walton. The passage is significant for outlining the main
obsession Frankenstein's life: achieving intellectual enlightenment. This ambition,
combined with a desire for glory, is Frankenstein's driving force, motivating him to
excel in his studies at university and later to create the monster.
Yet, we later learn, the fruits of this labor are rotten. Frankenstein is horrified by his
creation, and in turn the monster kills everyone that Frankenstein loves. Thus,
Shelley seems to be asking whether such an ambition is a worthwhile goal, and
whether such knowledge is truly enlightening.
The “secrets” mentioned in this passage continue to appear throughout the novel. In
fact, much of Frankenstein revolves around the secrets of life—things that are hard or
impossible to understand. While Frankenstein discovers the physical and
metaphysical secrets, his creation is obsessed with more philosophical "secrets" of
life: what is the meaning of life? What is the purpose? Who are we? The answers to
these questions are left unsolved.
"So much has been done, exclaimed the soul of Frankenstein — more, far more, will
I achieve; treading in the steps already marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore
unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation."
(Chapter 3)
Frankenstein's desire to push beyond the limits of humanity is a flawed goal that sets
him on a path of misery. As soon as the creature is completed, Frankenstein's
beautiful dream turns into a deformed, hideous reality. Frankenstein's achievement
is so disturbing that he runs away from it immediately.
"The die is cast; I have consented to return if we are not destroyed. Thus are my
hopes blasted by cowardice and indecision; I come back ignorant and disappointed.
It requires more philosophy than I possess to bear this injustice with patience."
(Chapter 24)
Captain Walton writes these lines in a letter to his sister at the close of the novel.
After listening to Frankenstein’s tale, and faced with an unrelenting storm, he
decides to return home from his expedition.
This conclusion demonstrates that Walton has learned from Frankenstein's story.
Walton was once an ambitious man in search of glory like Frankenstein. Yet through
Frankenstein’s tale, Walton realizes the sacrifices that come with discovery, and he
decides to prioritize his own life and the lives of his crew members over his mission.
Although he says that he is filled with “cowardice” and that he comes back
“disappointed” and “ignorant,” this ignorance is what saves his life. This passage
returns to the theme of enlightenment, reiterating that the singleminded search for
enlightenment makes a peaceful life impossible.
"I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous and ever-moving glacier
had produced upon my mind when I first saw it. It had then filled me with a
sublime ecstasy, that gave wings to the soul, and allowed it to soar from the obscure
world to light and joy. The sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed
always the effect of solemnizing my mind and causing me to forget the passing
cares of life. I determined to go without a guide, for I was well acquainted with the
path, and the presence of another would destroy the solitary grandeur of the scene."
(Chapter 10)
In this quote, Frankenstein details his solitary trip to Montanvert to grieve the death
of his brother William. The “sublime” experience of being alone in the harsh beauty
of the glaciers calms Frankenstein. His love for nature and the perspective it provides
is invoked throughout the novel. Nature reminds him that he is just a man, and
therefore powerless to the great forces of the world.
"These thoughts exhilarated me and led me to apply with fresh ardour to the
acquiring the art of language. My organs were indeed harsh, but supple; and
although my voice was very unlike the soft music of their tones, yet I pronounced
such words as I understood with tolerable ease. It was as the ass and the lap-dog;
yet surely the gentle ass whose intentions were affectionate, although his manners
were rude, deserved better treatment than blows and execration." (Chapter 12)
In this quote, the creature relays part of his story to Frankenstein. The creature
compares his experience in the De Lacey cottage to the fable of the ass and the lap-
dog, in which the ass pretends to be a lap dog and gets beaten for his behavior. While
living in the De Lacey cottage, strove to gain acceptance from the family despite his
"harsh" appearance. However, the De Lacey family did not treat him with
acceptance; instead, they attacked him.
The creature sympathizes with the "affectionate intentions" of the ass and argues that
the violent treatment of the "gentle ass" is reprehensible. The creature clearly sees a
parallel to his own story. He understands that he is different from others, but his
intentions are good, and he desires acceptance and approval. Tragically, he never
receives the approval he yearns for, and his alienation turns him into a violent
monster.
This passage points to one of the novel's essential points: the idea that judgment
based on external appearances is unjust, but is nevertheless a tendency of human
nature. The quote also raises the question of ultimate responsibility for the murders
committed by the creature. Should we blame only the creature, or do those who were
cruel to give him a chance to prove his humanity deserve some of the blame?
"I was dependent on none and related to none. The path of my departure was free,
and there was none to lament my annihilation. My person was hideous and my
stature gigantic. What did this mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come?
What was my destination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable
to solve them." (Chapter 15)
In this quote, the creature asks the fundamental questions of life, death, and identity.
At this point in the novel, the creature has only recently come to life, but by reading
Paradise Lost and other works of literature, he has found a way to question and
reflect on his life and its meaning.
Unlike Frankenstein, who searches for the scientific secrets of human life, the
creature asks philosophical questions about human nature. By bringing the creature
to life, Frankenstein succeeds in his inquiry, but that form of scientific
“enlightenment” cannot answer the creature's existential questions. This passage
suggests that science can only go so far in helping us understand the world, as it
cannot answer our existential and moral questions.
"Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned
from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own
image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very
resemblance. Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire and encourage
him, but I am solitary and abhorred." (Chapter 15)
In this quote, the creature compares himself to Adam and Frankenstein to God.
According to the creature, Adam is “beautiful” and “alluring" in the image of the
almighty, but Frankenstein’s creation is “filthy” and “horrid.” This contrast
demonstrates the stark difference between the abilities of God and the abilities of
Frankenstein. Frankenstein's work has been a crude attempt to wield the power of
creation, and according to the creature, his hubris is rewarded with wretchedness,
ugliness, and loneliness. Furthermore, Frankenstein will not take responsibility for
his creation by taking the creature under his wing; thus, the creature considers
himself even more "solitary and abhorred" than Satan. By pointing out
Frankenstein's folly, the creature again points out the dangers of attempting to go
beyond one's own humanity by seeking God-like glory.