One day Mr. Bethell, suspecting from strange noises overhead that his pupil was engaged in nefarious scientific pursuits, suddenly appeared in Shelley's rooms; to his consternation he found the culprit apparently half enveloped in a blue flame. "What on earth are you doing, Shelley?" "Please sir," came the answer in the quietest tone, "I am raising the devil."The poet is at once more circumspect and self-dramatizing in the account of his brushes with the supernatural in the "Hymn to Intellectual Beauty," stanza 5, written contemporaneously with Frankenstein.
-- Edward Dowden, The Life of Percy Bysshe Shelley (London: Kegan, Paul, Trench & Co, 1886), I, 30.