Painting of a dishevelled young man hunched in a rowing boat on a grey alpine lake at dawn, head in his hands, fish breaking the water as the clouds lift.

Original artwork, not a still

Frankenstein ‧ 1818

Victor Frankenstein

Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.

Behind the line

What it means

Our interpretation.

Grief is rarely a single cry; here it is the shock of a world that goes on looking ordinary. Shelley gives Victor a plain, almost clinical observation, and that restraint is why the line travels so well. Readers quote it for any abrupt upheaval, a bereavement, a firing, a diagnosis, long after the novel's gothic machinery has faded from memory.

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In context

Spoilers for FrankensteinShow the scene

Victor Frankenstein is rowing across Lake Geneva at dawn, racing home after the murder of his wife Elizabeth on their wedding night, in the 1818 text's Volume III, chapter 6 (chapter 23 in the continuous numbering). The rain has just stopped, and he sees fish playing in the water exactly as they had the evening before, when Elizabeth watched them with him. He sums up his state in this line: the world looks unchanged, yet nothing can appear to him as it did a day earlier. Victor is telling the story to Walton, and goes on to say he has reached the peak of his tale of horrors.

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