Elise M. Cormode
Composition II Final
Literary Analysis
16 December 1993

She sought to create a ghost story, but Mary Shelley accomplished far more than that in Frankenstein. The creature she conjured in her novel is no mere demon bent on the torment of mankind or a phantom locked by death in the rage or despair of its demise. Instead, by framing three stories around each other, she illustrated a handful of the more dangerous traits of human nature by demonstrating their effects on others. Shelley's creature is both inhuman and more human than his creator, Frankenstein, but above all he is a victim of isolation and alienation.

The term "isolation" has two definitions which must be understood. The first is the condition of being separated from a group or whole; being set apart. This, the creation of Victor Frankenstein, most definitely is. However, the second definition is the state of being free from external influence. The creature is emphatically not isolated in this way. Had he been free of external influence, he would never have become the monster capable of murder or luring Victor to the Arctic. His physical isolation, coupled with his lack of mental isolation, produced his alienation.

The creature was obviously separated from the rest of human society by his origin, physical nature and uniqueness. His origin was, first of all, unlike any other creature on the face of the planet. He was built by a man, not born, and yet he was not a machine. As Victor related to Robert Walton, it was his pride that led him, after his experiments, to "[begin] the creation of a human being" (52). This creation came into the world more like a zombie than a child, being made as he was from dead parts. Victor described how he "collected bones from charnel-houses . . . The dissecting room and the slaughterhouse furnished many of [his] materials" (53); a revelation which points out that the creature was physically not fully human. If many of his parts came from slaughterhouses he was, like the minotaur, part animalian, although cleverly and not obviously so. It is this element which horrified the creature himself when he learned his origin from Victor's journal (124-25), and added to his own sense of isolation.

The "otherness" of Victor Frankenstein's unnatural progeny rested heavily on his physical nature and for the most part created his isolation. The most obvious physical difference was his appearance. In size he was huge. In order to be able to manipulate the parts more easily, Victor had "resolved to make the being of gigantic stature, that is to say, about eight feet in height and proportionately large" (52). This size is the first (23), and most frequently cited physical aspect of the creature (73, 94, 115, 196, 207, etc.). Following close to his size in notoriety was the extraordinary nature of his face. It was a hideous mask with a pair of beautiful features that served to accent the ghastly elements. Upon first seeing it, Walton, who was prepared by Victor's description, still exclaimed, "Never did I behold a vision so horrible as his face, of such loathsome yet appalling hideousness" (207). The creature's own reaction to seeing his reflection was terror and "the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification" (108). The countenance was described on page 56: a "shrivelled complexion" of scarce, yellow skin," "watery" and "dull yellow" eyes in "dun-white sockets" and "straight, black lips" all of which contrasted the "lustrous black and flowing" hair and the pearly white teeth.

Furthermore, the creature's form was horrific. Walton, with some degree of diplomacy and not a little scientific detachment, described the creature as "uncouth and distorted in its proportions" (207) while Victor simply called it a "filthy mass that moved and talked" (140). The creature of himself said, "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" (125). Over the disproportionate frame was stretched skin which Walton describes as "in colour and apparent texture like that of a mummy" (207). Victor's account adds that it "scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath" (56), a quality which could not help but inspire loathing in all who saw him.

In addition to the creature's terrible appearance, his voice, constitution and diet also separated him from natural born mankind. Neither Victor nor Walton mentioned the quality of his voice, naming it only as the familiar yet hated voice of an enemy (193) and as being muffled with despair and remorse (208), yet the creature seemed preoccupied with the inadequacy of his voice, speaking often of its "harshness" (99, 109, 126). In this area, at least, he seemed to isolate himself. His constitution was remarkably different, allowing him to withstand extremes perilous to humankind. This caused the wonderment of Walton's crew (25) when they saw him cross the ice. He noted he could bear "the extremes of heat and cold with less injury to [his] frame" (115) and declared to Victor that he was impassive to snow and ice (195). In the same way, his diet, as he explained to his creator, "is not that of man; I do not destroy the lamb or the kid to glut my appetite; acorns and berries afford me sufficient nourishment" (139) and thus, when confronted with the reality that he would never share human society, he envisioned the life of a Sasquatch for himself.

Finally the creature was unique among living things; there was none other like him. He described himself as "alone and miserable" (137), and said, "Like Adam, I was apparently united by no link to any other being in existence" (124), a sentiment he rephrased time and again (115, 139, 210, etc.). He did not even have a name.

It is apparent, then, that the creature was isolated, in the sense of separation from the mainstream of humanity, by his origin, physical nature and uniqueness. However, he was not free from external influence. Fundamentally, he was affected by the physical world. His first pain, when he stuck his hand in the fire (100), and his first fear, that his fire would go out (100), were both physical, that is, in the external world, rather than emotional, the interior world. Yet even the beauty of the unfolding spring was able to elevate his spirits (110), demonstrating the powerful influence of the world around him on his soul as well.

He was always trying to reach out to the world around him, because he was, in very real sense, human. Although Victor said, "I doubted at first whether I should attempt the creation of a being like myself," he did. When finished, however, he could only see the form of the creature, as he described on pages 56 and 57 and not the humanness. Yet the creature was human, as is clear from his own account (chapters 11-16 and the discussion with Walton [207-211]), where he thinks, reasons, feels and analyzes himself. He feared death (115), a trait no animal shares with man. He even called himself a criminal (207), a moral judgement only a human can make. Walton reinforced that perception when he said to the creature, "If you had listened to the voice of your conscience and heeded the stings of remorse . . . Frankenstein would yet have lived" (208). By attributing a conscience to him, Walton judged the creature to be human. It was natural for him to reach out because humans were never designed to be alone (cf. Genesis 2:18).

The creature's very first communication after being animated was a smile (57). He told Walton that his heart "was fashioned to be susceptible of love and sympathy" (208), just as he told Victor that he began life "benevolent and good" (95), and was "deeply affected" by the unhappiness of the cottagers (105). His attempts to reach out may be seen in his behaviour towards the cottage family, father DeLacey, and William.

Almost the first thing he said about the DeLaceys was that he wanted to join them (105) and even spent his sleeping hours dreaming of them (109). Since he didn't know how to approach them without scaring them he endeavoured to do as much good for them as possible, cutting wood (106, 108, 109), clearing snow and performing "those offices that [he] had seen done by Felix" (109). He even gave up stealing from them when it occurred to him that it was hurting them (106). He planned actively to win their favour (109) and persuaded himself he could "[solicit] their compassion and friendship" (125). He believed that if he knew what was troubling them it would be in his power to fix (109) just as the wood and snow had been.

The creature knew the importance of his choice in trying to reach out to the elder DeLacey, as he said "if I fail there, I am outcast in the world forever" (128). These are hardly the words of one who is unaffected by external influence. He approached the old man accordingly, choosing his words carefully and addressing him as "my kind host" (127), "Excellent man" and "best and only benefactor" (128). Although he by then had become bitter, he approached William in much the same state of mind, believing him to be "unprejudiced" and capable of becoming a "companion and friend" (136).

The degree to which the creature was affected by the influence of others may also be seen in his overwhelming desire for a wife, an "Eve" is sooth his sorrows and share his thoughts (126). Even after embarking on a path of destruction, he said, "the love of another will destroy the cause of my crimes" (140). In fact, it is a lack of a wife that finally pushes him over the edge in tormenting Victor. He exclaimed that men find wives and even animals find mates, but he is refused a companion (160).

It is no surprise then that he was deeply affected by the mistreatment he received when trying his best to act kindly to the world around him (95-96). After all, he felt kindness, even when it was not directed at him, as he watched Felix and Agatha feed their father while they themselves ate nothing (106). From a distance he shared their sorrows and "sympathized in their joys" (107). His desire to speak was sparked by his desire to associate with the cottagers (109), and the very fact that he does learn to speak demonstrates that he is not isolated in spirit. Therefore, the reception he receives from DeLacey's children is all the more heartrending for him (129).

The creature's experience of being set apart yet not free from external influence (isolated yet not isolated) lead to alienation, which in turn brought out the monster in him. Alienation may be defined as the result of being treated in an unfriendly or indifferent manner. No one in the novel is indifferent to the creature. Walton comes the closest, but this appearance is only based on the lack of extreme reaction which everyone else displays. Still, there is almost a sense that if Walton had met the creature earlier events might have turned out differently. Unfortunately, unfriendliness and hostility abounded in the creature's world.

From his waking moment his first encounters were characterized by either fear or disgust from those he contacted, which occasionally lead to open antagonism. Victor, his creator, who by all rights should have been best prepared to deal with him, was so overwhelmed by disgust, that he rushed downstairs to get away from the creature's presence (57). The women in the village also displayed disgust by fainting (101), a response echoed by Agatha (129). The creature narrated the DeLaceys' reaction saying, "Who can describe their horror and consternation on beholding me?" (129). William, upon meeting the creature, voiced his disgust, calling him "Hideous," a "monster," an "ugly wretch," and an "ogre" (136).

Fear was also a common response of people meeting the creature. The old shepherd shrieked and ran when he met the creature (101), as did the village children (101). The women's fainting (above) could also be interpreted as a response to fear. Safie ran from the cottage, quite possibly believing she was running for her life, when the cottagers discovered the creature in their home (129). The rustic, whose child's life the creature saved, responded by tearing the girl from his arms and running away (135).

Any person confronted with a frightening prospect triggers what is commonly known as the flight or fight reflex. In viewing the creature as threatening, not a few choose fight over flight and introduced the creature to antagonism. This began with the villagers who pelted him with stones (101), and continued with Felix who beat him (129) and the rustic who shot him (135). Finally, William, a mere child, offered the strongest threat he was capable of, "I will tell my papa" (136), the intent of which the creature did not fail to recognize.

The only bright spot in the creature's history of encounters was the elder DeLacey, who, because he was blind, lent a sympathetic ear to the creature before the children returned and responded like everyone else (127-29).

Perhaps the most damaging treatment of all was that which the creature received from his own creator, who again and again forsook his duty towards his creation. It became apparent from Victor's musings at the bottom of page 97 that "duty" was not an aspect he considered in the creation itself. Regardless, his actions had an amplified affect of the creature. After fleeing his first encounter with the living creature (57), he opened the second with the greeting "Devil" (95), hardly the way to start a peaceful relationship. He also called this product of his a demon to his face (160). Mere words might have been forgivable, but Victor went further in alienating his progeny from him. He at first refused to make a companion when asked (138, 206), then agreed to help, but turned around and broke his promise (159, 160).

The affects of isolation and alienation upon the creature were manifold. The first affect was extreme loneliness. He told DeLacey, "I have no relation or friend upon the earth" (128). Many times the creature exclaimed about how even Satan, the Enemy himself, has companions, "fellow devils to admire and encourage him" (125) but he, who did not, in the core of his being, wish to be an enemy, had no "friends and associates in desolation" (210). He lamented the fact that he would never receive a tender look from a female (115, 125-126) or enjoy the exhortations and conversations of men (115) and concluded that he was to be excluded from all happiness (95, 114-115).

A second affect was that the creature was robbed of dignity. He concluded that he was "a monster, a blot upon the earth" (115), called himself "an abortion" (210) and equated himself with Satan in his abandonment (124). This loss of dignity is apparent in his conversation with DeLacey where he described himself as "an unfortunate and deserted creature" (127) and "a detestable monster" in the eyes of others (128). Due to this, he was "full of fears" and "overwhelming terrors" (128) at the prospect of encountering people. Finally, he fully abandoned any pretence of dignity when he literally sobbed and begged for sanctuary when he heard the approach of the younger members of the household (129).

Furthermore, alienation bred the twins of despair, that "sick impotence" (130) which expressed itself (in the creature's experience) in suicidal thoughts (124, 130), and misery. The misery, which he described as "insupportable (130), came about from the agony of reflection on his state (115). He gave it as reason for his maliciousness (138) and claimed he could be freed from it by having a companion (139). Misery is one of most frequent words he used to describe his condition (137, 208, 210, etc.).

Another affect of the alienation was that he, who craved human society, was willing to go into exile (141). However, his hopes were dashed when Victor broke his promise.

Finally, vengeance came of alienation. The creature described the onset of feelings of "rage and vengeance" (130), and recounted the day he vowed vengeance after being shot (135). Noting that it was fueled by "envy and bitter indignation" (208), he labeled his quest for revenge as a "war against the species" (130) that had created him. In this vein, he "punished" Justine to "atone" for her kind (137). Finally, he informed Victory, "you can blast my other passions, but revenge remains - revenge, henceforth dearer than light or food" (160). It was a miserable existence. Vengeance then brought the mischief he says he had learned to work (137) and murder, both direct (William, 136; Henry, 168; and Elizabeth, 186) and indirect (Justine, 137; and Alphonse Frankenstein, 188), which was the worst of his crimes, arose from the experience of alienation.

The creature, cut off from, yet craving society, knew of compassion in an intellectual way, but never experienced it personally. His every attempt to exercise it resulted in punishment. In short, the alienation imposed on him by others, an outgrowth not only of the fear and hatred of the unknown and disagreeable by some, but also the pride and lack of responsibility of a few, resulted in his actually becoming the demon everyone expected him to be.