“Words will
always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and, for those who
will listen, the enunciation of truth.”-
V, V for Vendetta (2005).
Throughout the course, our
discussions have revolved around numerous topics from the gothic to
monstrousity and numerous topics in between; however, they have always focused
on the power and the meaning and most importantly the choice of words. The
power of words has brought entire families to ruin in The Castle of Otranto. The power of words has a magical effect in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Without
finding the right words, the beauty and horror of the sublime could not be
expressed within Frankenstein. And it
is through words that Keats will obtain his immortality in When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be. The power of words is far
beyond anything else studied this semester, for without words the course would
be impossible.
The
Castle of Otranto, by Horace Walpole, rather brilliantly portrays this
across the course of the novel. As pointed out in the post “Names”, the meaning
of many character’s names creates rather the opposite effect as to what the
original meaning of their names implies. By rather unsubtly inverting the
meaning of words, Walpole creates an uneasy atmosphere; it is however a subtle
unease as it takes a certain degree of research and knowledge of etymology.
The
atmosphere of unease is established through the appearance of the “enormous helmet,
a hundred times more large than any casque made for human being, and shaded with
a proportionable quantity of black feathers” (Walpole 18). The descriptive word
“enormous” within this passage are the important elements of the overall
establishment of the atmosphere of unease. “Enormous” is defined by the Oxford English Dictionary
as “abnormal, unusual, extraordinary, unfettered by rules”. A single word has
the potential and capability of conveying all those things and more; a single
word in addition to the inversion of names has given the atmosphere of The Castle of Otranto it’s shape, all within the first two pages of
the novel.
Yet
it is not only these simplistic and singular instances of the meaning of words
that give Otranto it’s eerie
atmostphere. More words give shape to the plot of the novel and allow it to be
done easily within a single sentence on the very first page of the novel. “That
the castle and lordship of Otranto should pass from the present family, whenever
the real owner should be grown too large to inhabit it” (Walpole 17). The
enormity of words looms in this section, just as it does in other descriptive
words in the novel. The pervasiveness of
these words further winds itself throughout the novel in the form of Manfred’s
constant and persistent paranoia over them and the legacy of his family line. The
power of these words is what ultimately leads to Manfred’s downfall in the form
of the death of his daughter and the end of his noble house.
Words
themselves can often possess this power, both in a literal and metaphorical
sense. Samuel Taylor Coleridge displays this in his poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. In the first part of the poem, the
Marine speaks to the Wedding-Guest, yet once the Mariner begins his tale “The
Wedding-Guest stood still,/ And listens like a three year’s child:/ The Mariner
hath his will” (Coleridge 18-20). While the Broadview edition cited here notes
that “the wedding guest is spellbound by the eye” of the Mariner, I
respectfully disagree. It is not the Mariner casting some sort of spell to root
him there, rather the tale the Mariner is compelled to tell had rooted the
Wedding-Guest to the spot. The very words themselves are bound with a certain
supernatural power to root men to the spot; Coleridge makes this clear a few
lines down when the Wedding-Gues “cannot choose but hear;/ And thus spake on
that ancient man, the bright-eyed Mariner” (38-39).
The
Wedding-Guest is intimately acquainted with not just the supernatural power but
the transformative power that words can have upon a person in the very last
stanza of the poem:
“He
went like one that hath been stunned,
And
is of sense forlorn:
A
sadder and a wiser man,
He
rose the morrow morn” (Coleridge 622-25).
Our
Wedding-Guest has not had the experience of the Mariner, but rather through the
act of listening to the tale of the Mariner, that is through the Mariner’s
words, he himself is transformed as a result. The transformation within the
Wedding-Guest creates within him a deeper understanding; in the Wedding-Guest,
ignorance is bliss. Yet as a result of the obtainment of knowledge through the
Mariner’s words, the Wedding-Guest is rendered sorrowful.
The transformative power of words
that the Wedding-Guest is not a universal experience; it is through exposure to
a masterpiece of literature, a masterpiece of wordsmithing, that the Creature
of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein transcends
his baser natures. Prior to discovery his new family, the monster is solely
focused on his survival. He states that, “Food, however, became scarce…When I
found this, I resolved to quit the place I had hitherto inhabited, to seek for
one where the few wants that I had experienced would be more easily satisfied”
(Shelley 123). Without the
assistance of language and words, Frankenstein’s creature is a base thing, an
animal with the potential to improve. This in and of itself makes a powerful
statement about the power of words: the only thing that truly separates us from
basic needs and our self-perception of higher understanding is the ability to
command language.
It
is through the power of words that the Creature begins what is identifiable as
the human experience. The Creature begins to tell Frankenstein of his discovery
of words and says that “ I cannot begin to describe the delight I felt when I
learned the ideas appropriated to each of these sounds” (Shelley 129). The
Creature begins his journey into the power of language and the power of words
themselves through the slow process of discovering a language. It is an
experience that is perhaps lost on those who are in its process just how
magnificient and wonderous that language truly is; yet the Creature seems to
understand exactly what is happening on an emotional or subconscious level. The
delight, the joy that is indescribable in the process of discovering meaning
through language is expressed by Frankenstein’s monster.
While the creature is exposed to numerous
books prior to his discovery of Milton it is the discovery of John Milton’s
great work of Paradise Lost, that
arguably transforms the creature the most. Within its pages he finds massive
parallels to his own life and the vast differences to his own. He notes “ Satan
had his companions, fellow devils…but I am solitary and detested” (Shelley
144). Yet as noted in the post “Monsters:Creator and Creation”, the Creature has a spiritual kinship with his creator
precisely through their isolation. .
The Creature however notes a great
difference between himself and Milton’s Adam: “I remember Adam’s supplication
to his Creator, but where was mine? he had abandoned me, and, in the bitterness
of my heart, I cursed him.” (Shelley 145). The lack of connection that the
Creature feels with his creator is the defining aspect of the Creature’s life
and his endeavors. It is through the identification he notes that Milton
creates between Adam and God that the Creature is most profoundly influenced;
the words of Milton create the ultimate affect and transformation upon the
Creature. Words, given meaning by the Creature give his life a purpose and a
direction.
Purpose
and meaning in one’s life is the subject of the rather fascinating poem of John
Keats’ When I Have Fears that I May Cease
to Be. The first two lines of the poem read “When I have fears that I may
cease to be/ Before my pen has glean’d my seeming brain” (Keats). The end of a
life and the meaning behind the legacy that Keats will leave behind is
engrained in the very start of the poem. Keats then uses this thematic tone of
the end of life to showcase what his fear is: that he will leave behind nothing
even though he leaves behind these words. The “high piled books, in charact’ry”
are Keats’ legacy that he will leave behind (3). As outlined in the post “Keat’s Obsession” however, Keats
recognizes this fear of his to be uncurable and resolves to “stand alone, and
think/ Till love and fame to nothingness do sink” (25-26). Words, though Keats
legacy, were unable to assuage this fear of Keats, but still allowed him to see
the truth that it didn’t matter that he was afraid that he would leave no lasting legacy behind.
(Statue of John Keats at Guys Hospital in London).
This
essay begins with the epigram from V For
Vendetta on words being the enunciation of truth specifically to draw your
attention to what each of these cases of the use of words means.
Above is included the full speech in which the character makes this quote in order to provide for context. The overall point within the speech is that just because nobody is talking about the horrific and repressive events of the government, that doesn't mean they aren't happening. Within the Romantic poems
and novels disccussed here, The Rime of the Ancient
Mariner showcases this concept:
the Wedding-Guest actually embodies this for after the Mariner’s tale he is
exposed and wisened to the atrocities of the slave trade and thus “a sadder and
a wiser man/ He rose the morrow morn” (Coleridge 624-25).
The power of words ultimately spells Manfred's downfall, and exposes the truth of his monstrosity; the same can be said of how the words of Milton expose the nature or Frankenstein's monster. The Mariner's truth is also exposed through the verbal recounting of his tale. Keats' words become his legacy, and it is through words that he finds a certain level of truth about the nature of his self and his concept of immortality.
Works Cited
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. The Broadview Anthology of British Literature: The Age of Romanticism. 2nd.
Ed. Joseph Black, et al. Buffalo, NY: Broadview Press. 2010. Print.
"enormous, adj.". OED Online. March
2013. Oxford University Press. 8 May 2013. Web. <http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/62538?redirectedFrom=enormous>.
Keats, John. “When I Have Fears that I May
Cease to Be.” The Broadview Anthology of
British Literature: The Age of Romanticism. 2nd. Ed. Joseph
Black, et al. Buffalo, NY: Broadview Press. 2010. Print.
"pray,
v.". OED Online. March 2013. Oxford University Press. 8 May 2013. Web. <http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/149429>.
Mary, Shelley. Frankenstein. 3rd ed. Broadview, 2012. Print.
Walpole, Horace. The Castle of Otranto. 15. New York: Penguin Classics, 2001. Print.
Mary, Shelley. Frankenstein. 3rd ed. Broadview, 2012. Print.
Walpole, Horace. The Castle of Otranto. 15. New York: Penguin Classics, 2001. Print.
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