Progress on Frankenstein, Part 6
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bunnybooIt did make me go a little quote crazy though.
Shelley makes the biblical allusions explicit by having Victor’s creation actually read Paradise Lost and connect with both Adam and Lucifer. It feels… a little clumsy to me. He just finds some relevant books in the middle of the woods and directly points the reader to Paradise Lost. I much prefer him finding Victor’s notes; it’s more natural and is interesting if you take the angle that Victor is God and his creation is Adam, reading through the process and trials of his “birth.” It also brings up an interesting thought that forms the conflict later—“’Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very resemblance. Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire and encourage him, but I am solitary and abhorred.’”
Isolation from others is a recurring theme in Frankenstein. Victor creates a miserable creature in his isolation; the creation is miserable because he’s isolated. Whereas Victor had a (admittedly negative) result of his isolation, the creation has no such release or goal. It’s forced, eternal rejection by the human race.
The creation decides to reveal himself (breaking that loneliness and solitude) to the cottagers (as he calls them—sorry for not using that term earlier!) by introducing himself to the blind man.
“The winter advanced, and an entire revolution of the seasons had taken place since I awoke into life. My attention at this time was solely directed towards my plan of introducing myself into the cottage of my protectors. I revolved many projects, but that on which I finally fixed was to enter the dwelling when the blind old man should be alone. I had sagacity enough to discover that the unnatural hideousness of my person was the chief object of horror with those who had formerly beheld me. My voice, although harsh, had nothing terrible in it [Note: Words—a projection of the inner self]; I thought, therefore, that if in the absence of his children I could gain the good will and mediation of the old De Lacey, I might by his means be tolerated by my younger protectors.”
Introducing himself as a traveler who wants to connect with some “friends,” the creation and the blind man have this exchange:
“…I am an unfortunate and deserted creature, I look around and I have no relation or friend upon earth. These amiable people to whom I go have never seen me and know little of me. I am full of fears, for if I fail there, I am an outcast in the world for ever.’
“‘Do not despair. To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate, but the hearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self-interest, are full of brotherly love and charity. [Note: I’m… not sure if the rest of the narrative agrees with this.] Rely, therefore, on your hopes; and if these friends are good and amiable, do not despair.’
“‘They are kind—they are the most excellent creatures in the world; but, unfortunately, they are prejudiced against me. I have good dispositions; my life has been hitherto harmless and in some degree beneficial; but a fatal prejudice clouds their eyes [Note: Whereas the blind man’s “sight” is unclouded], and where they ought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestable monster.’ [Note: There’s a lot of emphasis on sight and seeing, not listening or feeling.]
“‘That is indeed unfortunate; but if you are really blameless, cannot you undeceive them?’ [Note: Is the creation somewhat to blame for others’ reaction to him?]
“‘I am about to undertake that task; and it is on that account that I feel so many overwhelming terrors. I tenderly love these friends; I have, unknown to them, been for many months in the habits of daily kindness towards them; but they believe that I wish to injure them, and it is that prejudice which I wish to overcome.’
[…]
“The old man paused and then continued, ‘If you will unreservedly confide to me the particulars of your tale, I perhaps may be of use in undeceiving them. I am blind and cannot judge of your countenance, but there is something in your words which persuades me that you are sincere. I am poor and an exile, but it will afford me true pleasure to be in any way serviceable to a human creature.’
“‘Excellent man! I thank you and accept your generous offer. You raise me from the dust by this kindness [Note: Man was made out of clay, and he is raised from the dust…]; and I trust that, by your aid, I shall not be driven from the society and sympathy of your fellow creatures.’
“‘Heaven forbid! Even if you were really criminal, for that can only drive you to desperation, and not instigate you to virtue. [Note: Criminals are made, not born. Criminality is a choice, not a predestination.] I also am unfortunate; I and my family have been condemned, although innocent; judge, therefore, if I do not feel for your misfortunes.’
Something that I keep noticing is that neither Victor nor his creation feel like they have any agency—Victor in his actions and his creation in how others perceive him (and, well, later his actions too). Are these set in stone, by fate or divine intent, or do they actually have some measure of control? They both share a similar “Oh, it’s everyone else who has such-and-such problem with me” or “Oh, I’ve been put in this situation and can’t change anything.” In the creation’s case, it feels more real—people actually do judge him before getting to know him because of his inherent nature [Note: His first encounter with humans happened before he could speak and therefore incapable of defending or explaining himself.]—but Victor really doesn’t have an excuse. He chose to pursue science; he chose to defy God; he chose to abandon his creation instead of sheltering or killing it. For me, the creation is portrayed sympathetically until he chooses evil by destroying the cottager’s house after they reject him. You’re innocent until you choose to commit a sin or a crime—innocent until you’re proven guilty. The disconnect here is that society sometimes judges you guilty when you’re innocent; they decide that you’re evil before you choose evil and that can encourage someone to be evil. It’s still a choice, however.
But is it a reasonable choice to consistently turn the other cheek even if others hate you for what you are? Can you expect that out of somebody who isn’t a living saint? What can you do about it if you’re rejected at every turn for something you can’t control? From my own experience, you can do a few of things—blame yourself, accept yourself, conceal what makes you different, try to change, actively embrace the hatred, or just shut yourself off from those who hate you. Clearly Victor’s creation got sick and tired of the first option, simply can’t find it in himself to do the second, he can’t reasonably do the third, and when he attempts the fourth he’s rejected again (more on that later). It’s really just a choice between those last two—either becoming a monster or becoming a hermit.
Twice the creation tries to change what others think about him and defy their prejudice; he rescues the little girl from the river and thinks about kidnapping William to, uh, kind of brainwash him into liking him.
“This [Note: his rescue of the girl] was then the reward of my benevolence! I had saved a human being from destruction, and as a recompense I now writhed under the miserable pain of a wound which shattered the flesh and bone. The feelings of kindness and gentleness which I had entertained but a few moments before gave place to hellish rage and gnashing of teeth. Inflamed by pain, I vowed eternal hatred and vengeance to all mankind. But the agony of my wound overcame me; my pulses paused, and I fainted.”
“At this time a slight sleep relieved me from the pain of reflection, which was disturbed by the approach of a beautiful child, who came running into the recess I had chosen, with all the sportiveness of infancy. Suddenly, as I gazed on him, an idea seized me that this little creature was unprejudiced and had lived too short a time to have imbibed a horror of deformity. If, therefore, I could seize him and educate him as my companion and friend, I should not be so desolate in this peopled earth.
“Urged by this impulse, I seized on the boy as he passed and drew him towards me. As soon as he beheld my form, he placed his hands before his eyes and uttered a shrill scream; I drew his hand forcibly from his face and said, ‘Child, what is the meaning of this? I do not intend to hurt you; listen to me.’
“He struggled violently. ‘Let me go,’ he cried; ‘monster! Ugly wretch! You wish to eat me and tear me to pieces. You are an ogre. Let me go, or I will tell my papa.’
“‘Boy, you will never see your father again; you must come with me.’
“‘Hideous monster! Let me go. My papa is a syndic—he is M. Frankenstein—he will punish you. You dare not keep me.’
“‘Frankenstein! you belong then to my enemy—to him towards whom I have sworn eternal revenge; you shall be my first victim.’
“The child still struggled and loaded me with epithets which carried despair to my heart; I grasped his throat to silence him, and in a moment he lay dead at my feet.
“I gazed on my victim, and my heart swelled with exultation and hellish triumph; clapping my hands, I exclaimed, ‘I too can create desolation; my enemy is not invulnerable; this death will carry despair to him, and a thousand other miseries shall torment and destroy him.’
Both times he’s rejected, and he snaps when he learns William not only hates him for who he is but is the brother of his creator. To compound on his choice of evil, he frames Justine for William’s murder—perpetuating prejudice.
“As I fixed my eyes on the child, I saw something glittering on his breast. I took it; it was a portrait of a most lovely woman. In spite of my malignity, it softened and attracted me. For a few moments I gazed with delight on her dark eyes, fringed by deep lashes, and her lovely lips; but presently my rage returned; I remembered that I was for ever deprived of the delights that such beautiful creatures could bestow and that she whose resemblance I contemplated would, in regarding me, have changed that air of divine benignity to one expressive of disgust and affright. [Note: Now he’s assuming what others will think of him. He’s playing out these little scenarios based on his own prejudice. Mrs. Frankenstein might’ve been accepting of him, knowing what we do about her personality.]
[…]
“While I was overcome by these feelings, I left the spot where I had committed the murder, and seeking a more secluded hiding-place, I entered a barn which had appeared to me to be empty. A woman was sleeping on some straw; she was young, not indeed so beautiful as her whose portrait I held, but of an agreeable aspect and blooming in the loveliness of youth and health. Here, I thought, is one of those whose joy-imparting smiles are bestowed on all but me. [Note: To bring something modern into the mix, this is kinda incel-y. I have been ruined by the internet.] And then I bent over her and whispered, ‘Awake, fairest, thy lover is near—he who would give his life but to obtain one look of affection from thine eyes; my beloved, awake!’ [Note: Why does he do this? Why does he risk detection (and rejection)? He just craves human attention—this is his last-ditch effort to gain it positively… or maybe just some dark humor.]
“The sleeper stirred; a thrill of terror ran through me. Should she indeed awake, and see me, and curse me, and denounce the murderer? Thus would she assuredly act if her darkened eyes opened and she beheld me. The thought was madness; it stirred the fiend within me—not I, but she, shall suffer; the murder I have committed because I am for ever robbed of all that she could give me, she shall atone. [Note: This is kind of a shoulda, coulda, woulda statement. Again, making assumptions. The creation is lashing out at someone because of what he thinks he deserves. And while he does deserve sympathy, he does not deserve a woman’s (or anyone’s) affection just by his nature—human or otherwise.] The crime had its source in her; be hers the punishment! Thanks to the lessons of Felix and the sanguinary laws of man, [Note: He’s been corrupted by the, uh, corrupt ways of Man.] I had learned now to work mischief.”
I think a feminist critic could get a lot out of this scene and the others following, but I’m not really either a feminist or a critic. It’d be interesting to hear others’ thoughts on this!
I’m going to break up this post into two because this one is really huge. See you then!