Frankenstein Almost Gets It

Throughout this story, I’ve been the reader shaking my head at Victor Frankenstein page after page. Why is he such a coward? Why does he not realize how selfish his actions are? I have been waiting for Frankenstein to have a revelation about his character, and after this reading, it seemed as if he almost did have a breakthrough.

            When Walton’s crew tells him they want to turn around and go back to England, Frankenstein suddenly has a moment of energy and clarity. He “roused himself,” “his eyes sparkled,” and “his cheeks flushed” with “vigour”(182). This definitely was not the Frankenstein I was used to. This was the pre-creation Frankenstein, the Frankenstein that still believed in passion and science and the greater good. He turned to the crew and proceeded to lecture them for turning from their “design.” Of the voyage, he says, “For this was it a glorious, for this was it an honourable undertaking. You were hereafter to be hailed as the benefactors of your species; your names adored and belonging to brave men who encountered death for honour, and the benefit of mankind.” He continues, talking about courage and strength, and being “heroes who have fought and conquered, and who know not what it is to turn their backs on the foe.”

            This impassioned speech was shocking to me. It was as if, in a moment of delirium, Frankenstein projected his regrets about his own experience with his creature on the Walton’s crew. The way he chastises them sounds exactly like what he needed to hear when he shied away from his creation out of selfishness and fear. He tells them to continue for the same reason he wished to create in the first place.

            While Frankenstein never had a clear revelation about how he should have treated his creature, I like to think this is Mary Shelley’s way of showing that he did have some sort of breakthrough about his actions. His speech is easily applicable to his own situation, and it is a shame he did not take his own advice in the first place.

Frankenstein’s Fluctuation Between Guilt and Innocence

Victor changes his opinion on whether he is to blame for the deaths of those closest to him or not. At times he describes himself as innocent, almost as much a victim as his murdered friends and family. When describing Justine’s misfortune, he comments that she “was as innocent as [him]” although it is clear they are not equally guilty (200). Victor is completely to blame for the murders; even though he did not directly kill anyone, his creature’s murders by extension dirty his hands in the matter. He confides in the reader: “I felt as if I had committed some great crime, the consciousness of which haunted me. I was guiltless,” again attempting to lessen his guilt (175).  At other times, however, Victor understands and accepts full responsibility for his actions. Each time another person turns up dead, he falls into a deep despair, torn between his guilt and his inability to confess his part in the murder as the creator of the murderer. He understands that “it is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for the guilty there is no peace” (206). This view is the one that ultimately sticks with him for the rest of his life, as he is unable to convince himself long term that his role in his tale is a passive one. His punishment for creating an unnatural being and then turning that creation into a monster is to chase his monster to the ends of the earth but ultimately lose his life before he is able to achieve vengeance. 

Frankenstein Learning From His Own Mistakes

            At the end of class on Thursday, we brought up the notion of Frankenstein as a lesson for future generations. When Victor Frankenstein tells his story to Captain Walton, Victor refuses to tell the Captain the secret of his scientific discovery because Victor has learned exactly “how dangerous is the acquirement of knowledge and how much happier that man is […] than he who aspires to become greater than his nature will allow” (38).  Victor regrets the scientific advancements he made when building his Creature and acknowledges the tendency of human beings to pursue knowledge past the point of caution. Walton mirrors Frankenstein’s excessive ambition in his desire to find the Northwest Passage. In the final chapter of the novel, Walton’s crew threatens to mutiny because Walton wanted to continue their journey northwards despite the increasing danger. Walton is compelled to continue on because of his desire for knowledge, similar to Frankenstein’s ambition to build the Creature. However, it is not Walton who resists the crew, but Frankenstein: he tells them, “You were hereafter to be hailed as the benefactors of your species, your names adored as belonging to brave men who encountered death for honour and the benefit of mankind” (191). This sounds similar to Victor’s reasoning for building the Creature in the first place: pursuing knowledge for the benefit of mankind despite all dangers. It seems like Victor Frankenstein, even after being brutally punished for pushing the boundaries of scientific advancement, had not completely learned his own lesson of the dangers in science. This is the aspect of Frankenstein that is timeless. Human beings are continuously learning more about the world around them, and with each step in discovery comes new questions about how far is too far. Whether it be the internet or cloning technology, each “discovery” brings up questions over whether or not it is actually beneficial to the world. Frankenstein is a general warning of the power of human beings to create things that we may ultimately regret.

Who Deserves My Sympathy?

Understanding the creature’s side of the story made me thoroughly reconsider whether, as a reader, I should sympathize with Frankenstein or the creature. Mary Shelley clearly wanted every reader to struggle with this because both characters so vividly account for their misfortune and woes, but the ending of the text does a lot to clarify in what ways the reader should empathize with either Frankenstein or the creature. Walton’s perspective is crucial in understanding this because he himself can understand so well the misery they both ensure. While death encroaches, Frankenstein concedes “In a fit of enthusiastic madness I created a rational creature, and was bound towards him, to assure, as far as was in my power, his happiness and well being. This was my duty; but there was another still paramount to that. My duties towards the beings of my own species had greater claims to my attention, because they included a greater proportion of my happiness or misery” (191). Frankenstein’s acknowledgment of his wrongdoings encourages the reader to realign their sympathies with him, but the creature admits to his own crimes at the end of the text as well. He imparts to Walton that he took no pleasure in having “murdered the lovely and the helpless” (196) and only did so because of the rage he felt after seeing Victor so happy and content. Shelley decided that the reader will sympathize with the character who most directly relates to the inherent struggles man endures every day. A holistic examination reveals that Frankenstein battles his ego most in the novel. While he shows consideration for the ones he loves, it is really only because they directly inspire his optimism. Without his friends and family Victor is just as wretched as the creature. Loneliness is exactly what the creature battles most and readers who relate to this well may find they align their sympathies with the creature. While this approach provides some insight into how a reader might sympathize with either character, the answer is ultimately impossible resolve. The duality of both characters is Shelley’s method for raising question and imparting strife upon the reader. 

The Foil that is Walton and the Sidekick That is Clerval

The characters, Walton and Clerval, are often equated as sidekick by their companionship to Victor Frankenstein. Both Clerval and Walton nursed Frankenstein back from health when Frankenstein is at his breaking point after Frankenstein encountered with the monster. Their trait to pursue knowledge and circumstance of being denied their pursuit by their background placed them below the superiority of Victor’s knowledge. Clerval being denied by his father to attend the prestigious University of Ingolstadt with Victor and Walton is denied his pursuit of knowledge by not having the resources at a young age. Walton once stated that “Now I am twenty-eight, and am in reality more illiterate than many schoolboys of fifteen” (16). Indeed, there are overlapping characteristics between Clerval and Walton, but the main difference between Clerval and Walton is how they reflect Frankenstein as a character. Clerval is the true sidekick to Victor Frankenstein. While Victor is caught up with the terror of his creation and not taking pleasure of the sceneries, Clerval enjoyed the sceneries. “[Clerval] felt as if he had been transported to Fairyland, and enjoyed a happiness seldom taste of man” (139). The true sidekick-hero relationship between Victor and Clerval comes after Clerval’s death. The monster murdered the sidekick as a warning to the hero, and the reaction of Victor to Clerval’s death further illustrates their dynamic. “The human frame could no longer support the agonies that I endured,” explaining that without his sidekick, Clerval, Victor will spiral down to his own destruction (158). Unlike Clerval, Walton demonstrates greater similarities when compared to Victor. Walton has the same passion to strive to find the “paradise of the Arctic” and “the Northern trade Route” that seems impossible, alike Victor’s quest to evade death. As a foil, Walton has one extreme difference that sets him and Victor: continuously keep in contact with his family. Walton, who continuously informed his sister of his journey allows Walton to have a balance in his passion for voyage but still have a humane aspect. This key attribute further differentiate the outcome of Victor and Walton, with Walton hopefully be successful in his journey and returns safely to his sister and Frankenstein dying in the middle of the Arctic. Being a foil, Walton highlights that with the pursuit knowledge, there is a need to have a connection with those you care for. 

Drama of the Gifted Victor

    Frankenstein speaks to what Alice Miller calls, “the drama of the gifted child.” Like Mary Shelley, Victor was raised in a certain environment by successful parents, who taught him to conceal his emotions. Speaking of his father, Victor says, “He wished as much as possible to obliterate the memory of the scenes that had taken place in Ireland and never alluded to them or suffered me to speak of my misfortunes” (p. 164). In order to please his father, Victor learned how to conceal his emotions, but he longs for someone to love him as he is—flaws in all.  “Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings who, pardoning my outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I was capable of unfolding.” Victor sounds like a child crying for attention, and he appears depressed. He says, “But busy, uninteresting, joyous faces brought back despair to my heart” (p. 137). According to Bloom, “The profound dejection endemic in Mary Shelley’s novel is fundamental to the Romantic mythology of the self, for all Romantic horrors are diseases of excessive consciousness, of the self unable to bear the self.”

    What do you see when you walk around Hamilton’s campus? An elite and expensive liberal arts institution in upstate New York with students coming from well to do families like Victor and Shelley’s… You see people hustling to and from class, club meetings and sports practice. It looks like people are happy, but within the natural scenery of Hamilton, like the mountains in Frankenstein, lies a different reality. The pressure to succeed makes us conceal our true selves—the bad parts of ourselves, so we no longer see humanistic traits in humans. Emotion and mental illness is stigmatized in our society as roadblocks to success. At Hamilton, you see students, like Victor, turning to art, science and literature to illuminate their true selves and connect to their emotions. These forms of knowledge have the permanence we seek in an ever-changing world.

    We are all monstrous and incomplete, and we must accept this instead of trying to make ourselves complete. When we deviate from our natural form, bad things happen. Look at “frankenfood” and diet fads, for example. These things make people feel inadequate and incomplete. They make people think that feeling incomplete is a bad thing. Shelley writes, “…the men, unsupported by ideas of glory and honour, can never willingly continue to endure their present hardships” (p. 191). Isn’t there glory and honor in being ourselves? If we come to accept this, we may endure our present hardships. We may see fewer school shootings and celebrity drug trials.

The Danger of Knowledge

               Victor defied the natural world and created life out of death by acquiring vast amounts of knowledge and intellectually surpassing his superiors. However, this new knowledge that he possessed proved to be incredibly dangerous to Victor. At the moment Victor succeeded in his endeavor and the creature’s eyes first saw light, the danger that resided in Victor’s knowledge came to life in the form of the monster. The possession of this knowledge on how to create life was a danger to Victor because it isolated him from society in a way that constantly tormented him. He felt an “insurmountable barrier” between himself and society due to the knowledge that he alone possessed (171). Victor felt that he had no right share the joys of society with his fellow men and he feared that society would “abhor me and hunt me from the world did they know my unhallowed acts and the crimes which had their source in me” (200). Knowledge was also a danger to Victor when the monster learned to read and acquired information that guided him to Victor’s family. After being isolated from society by his secret, Victor’s family was all that he had left. The monster, which was the product of Victor’s knowledge, was in some way responsible for the deaths of five of Victor’s loved ones. After they were gone, the only thing Victor had to live for was destroying the monster he had created, which eventually lead to his demise. Therefore, knowledge was entirely responsible for the wretchedness of Victor’s life.

Who's the Monster?

A recurring theme in Frankenstein is the argument over who the real monster is: Victor or his creature.  Before even beginning to discuss this topic we have to decide what it means to be a human and what it means to be a monster. We can define a “monster” by its outward characteristics – its ugliness, its giant stature – but doing so excludes beings that are monstrous because of their malicious intent or actions.  If we define a monster not necessarily by its appearance, but also by its intent, then what constitutes a human?  Are beings classified by their minds, their bodies, or both?  If we are defined by our minds and thoughts, then the creature, whose mind is the same, if not superior, to that of a human, would be human, regardless of the different animal parts from which he may have been created, and Victor, whose mind is also human, could only be considered monstrous in intent.  But, if we can consider Victor’s actions to be monstrous, it is not much of a stretch to also consider the creature’s actions to be monstrous too (he did, after all, kill three people), in which case, we have two monsters.  Victor’s intent was to create a being greater than he is, and he may have succeeded, at least in creating a more powerful monster.  

Monster and Creature.

Victor Frankenstein had a thirst for knowledge and an ambition to create life.  He acts on these feelings and creates a monstrous creature. Victor is sickened at the site of his “monster,” and rejects him, immediately:"I had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then, but when those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion; it became a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived"(43).  This rejection plays a major role in the monster's hatred for humans, especially for “Frankenstein,” who is confused by the conflict that is inside Victor Frankenstein. After Victor’s rejection, the “monster” meets a family that brings out his delicate side, but when they too reject him, he is devastated and destroys everything in sight: "I was like a wild beast that had broken the toils, destroying the objects that obstructed me "(121).  Victor's feelings of guilt increase; intensifying his need for revenge, as Justine is accused of a murder committed by “Frankenstein.” Victor makes it his mission to destroy his creation.  “Frankenstein” feels abandoned by his maker yet he still wants to be loved by Victor.  He threatens that he will be present on Victor’s wedding night.  Victor selfishly fears for his own life before he finds his wife, Elizabeth, murdered. "She was there, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the bed, her head hanging down and her pale and distorted features half covered by her hair"(179pg).

Frankenstein and Coleridge’s “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”

From the very beginning of Frankenstein, Mary Shelley alludes to Coleridge’s poem “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” and a lot of parallels develop between the stories. The clearest parallel could be drawn between the captain Robert Walton and the Mariner himself in Coleridge’s poem. Both characters are captaining a ship in an inhospitable landscape, faced with unforgiving conditions and an equally unforgiving crew. Walton grows closer to mutiny by the day because of his incessant will to continue exploration through the menacing conditions and the Mariner’s crew abhors him for shooting the albatross and bringing them bad fortune. Both these circumstances can be traced back to the unchecked ambition both characters face in their endeavors; Walton to find a revolutionary sea passage and become a champion seafarer and the Mariner to kill the albatross and similarly become a champion seafarer. While we don’t know what is going happen to Walton, the Mariner is forced to wear the albatross around his neck as a way of carrying the burden of his mistakes and bearing a metaphorical cross, so it’s fair to suspect that Walton may end up in a similar case. However, a less evident parallel might be drawn between Victor and the Mariner, as we clearly see Victor fall victim to his own unchecked ambition. His thirst for knowledge and eagerness to tamper in this exploded science leads him to creating a creature which he ultimately grows to detest and he must live with the consequences of his actions much like the Mariner. Either as a consequence of creating the creature in the first place, or of not showing it the genuine compassion it deserved as his progeny, Victor is forced to watch as, slowly, all of his loved ones die around him. The three characters are fascinating in this sense because they all demonstrate differently the danger of unchecked ambition and the consequences that can ensue. 

The Ultimate Power of Nature

In the first few chapters of her book, Mary Shelley uses nature to make Viktor’s creation seem increasingly unnatural, and therefore more monstrous. In Walton’s opening letters, he revels in the power of nature as if he could be smited at any. He and his ship are at the mercy of the ice.  If he wishes to travel, he can only do so if nature allows.   At the beginning of the book, the ice and the hardships that Walton faces show the superiority of nature.  Even as the story progresses and refocuses on new characters, the natural world is still shown in a magnificent light.  For example, the oak tree being stuck by lightning shows nature flexing its ultimate muscle.  And unlike the ice earlier in the book, this event is not just a description of the story’s setting; it is a turning point in Viktor Frankenstein’s youth.  It seems that Shelley is telling the reader with the complete destruction of this tree that nature has the ultimate power over what is created and destroyed.  By the time Viktor creates the monster Shelley shown that nature should be respected and revered.  Yet Viktor defies this respect and takes the creation of man away from nature by showing that he can create life.  Because of this defiance, the monster seems increasingly threatening and frightening; is seems as if this being should not exist simply because it is not from nature.  

Nature and Obsession in Frankenstein

Victor Frankenstein’s periods of crazed obsession were characterized by a disconnect from the natural world around him. When he was completely immersed in the building his creature, Frankenstein said “I did not watch the blossom or the expanding leaves—sights which before always yielded me supreme delight—so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation” (p. 40). In contrast, when Frankenstein was “recovering” from his mental and physical exhaustion after building the monster, he said that one of the first signs of recovery was his enjoyment of springtime: “It was a divine spring, and the season contributed greatly to my convalescence… my gloom disappeared, and in a short time I became as cheerful as before I was attacked by the fatal passion” (p. 47). His “fatal passion”, an obsession that brought him to an unnatural creation, stopped Frankenstein from being able to enjoy life represented by the beauty of springtime. Frankenstein’s studies consisted of creating a living thing from dead bodies, something that is deeply unnatural both today and in the Victorian era, and literally pulled Frankenstein away from the world around him. Just like Rosetti’s “Goblin Market”, coming in contact with evil—the goblin men or the monster—separates one from nature. This theme goes along with the Romanticism of the Victorian era: nature was glorified in literature and visual art, partly as a reaction to the industrial revolution. Therefore, Frankenstein’s disconnect from nature may represent his separation from Victorian ideals by using science to push the boundaries of the natural world.