The Dualistic Nature of Light and Knowledge

“Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to the mind, when it has once seized on it, like a lichen on the rock. I wished sometimes to shake off all thought and feeling; but I learned that there was but one means to overcome the sensation of pain, and that was death— a state which I feared yet did not understand.” (XIII, p. 85)

We experience the pained cries of the creature upon his solemn self-realization of the intense isolation that is his existence. After observing the cottagers for weeks and slowly gleaning an understanding of English, the creature finally breaks through after listening to Felix read Ruins of Empires, and at once the light of knowledge seizes him in an implacable bound; while here, we are observing the lichen that is knowledge torment the monster, this could very well have been said by almost any of the main characters. Indeed, Frankenstein and Walton are victims of dangerous knowledge as well, and the theme seems recurrent throughout all of Frankenstein, often manifesting in the metaphor of light as knowledge and science.

Even from the first sentences of the book, it is clear that light is inherently dualistic in nature, representing both exploration and enlightenment, as well as danger and impending doom. We hear Walton lusting for the fruits of the unexplored: “Its productions and features may be without example, as the phenomena of the heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscovered solitudes. What may not be expected in a country of eternal light. “ But it is this very light that almost sees to his end as he later faces grave danger in the hands of two vast sheets of ice (the light which he wished to explore).

Light, fire, and perhaps more relevantly to the title of this class, electricity, all play incredibly important roles in the life of Frankenstein as well. It is the observation of the devastating, yet awe-inspiring power of lightning that impels Frankenstein into the depths of science and his conquest of knowledge. “…on a sudden I beheld a stream of fire issue from an old and beautiful oak, which stood about twenty yards from our house; and so soon as the dazzling light vanished, the oak had disappeared, and nothing remained but a blasted stump.” (II p.22) Conversely, it is this very light, the light of knowledge, that will lead Frankenstein into the darkest of depressions, isolating himself from all of his friends and family. And so, it becomes clear that with all light, there is the risk of being burned.

Perhaps the most obvious instance of the dualistic nature of light is portrayed in the creature’s exploration of his new world and his encounter with fire. Prior to the encounter, light is also described with similarly constricting language: “the light became more and more oppressive to me; and the heat wearying me as I walked, I sought a place where I could receive shade.” (XI, p.71) Conversely, the creature also experiences the gentle light of the moon as a sensation of excellent pleasure. Stumbling upon a fire, the creature “was overcome with delight at the warmth…In my joy I thrust my hand into the live embers, but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain. How strange, I thought, that the same cause should produce such opposite effects!” And so we observe, again, the dualist nature that is knowledge; it provides light and warmth, but also the potential for painful burns.

The idea of light as knowledge seems very well placed in Shelley’s time, as she most likely would have been inspired by Enlightenment thinkers of her time. I’d be curious to know how accurately her perception of science is reflected through the cautionary tale that is Frankenstein: or, the modern Prometheus. (the title itself, a play on the danger that is knowledge).

Images taken from:

http://nuggetsinmuddywater.blogspot.com/2011/08/jim-thomes-600th-homerun.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Koeln_wrm_1044.jpg