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Jason Moore
For: John Kelly
ENG 171F
June 8, 2007.
A Lesson in Beauty and Affection:
The Didactic Function of Frankenstein
James Whale’s 1931 film version of Frankenstein begins with a warning stating
that the story we are about to be told is that of “a man of science who sought to create a
man after his own image without reckoning upon God.” As Frankenstein has ingrained
itself into popular culture, having been reinvented and retold countless times in film and
literature, its didactic intention has shifted through the years and has become somewhat
distorted from Mary Shelley’s original gothic novel. As Whale and many others have
demonstrated, Frankenstein has become a tale synonymous with the battle between
religion and science; knowledge and faith. The name “Frankenstein” in contemporary
culture suggests images of a mad scientist, so intoxicated with the need for power that he
dares to emulate God. Indeed, this is the tragic flaw that has shocked movie audiences
for decades. What is truly shocking, however, is that Shelley’s original novel rarely
alludes to God or religion. In fact, Shelley seems to suggest that Victor Frankenstein’s
tragic flaw is not in his attempt at playing God, or in his quest for forbidden knowledge,
but rather it is in his denial of family, friends and the romantic communion that he finds
his ruin. If Frankenstein can be analyzed as a social commentary of the author’s world,
Shelley seems to be instructing her readers on the conflict between the individual and
industry as well as the importance of the contemporary romantic philosophy. Shelley
reveals her didactic intention in several ways: it is intimated through her author’s
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introduction, directly stated through characterization and figuratively illustrated through
romantic imagery.
To begin, the author hints at her own values and principles through her own
words. Shelley’s introduction to her own novel reveals much about the author’s state of
mind before, during and after its completion. Shelley’s own words confirm a modesty
that is opposite to that of her protagonist, Victor Frankenstein. She never speaks directly
to any specific didactic intention of her work other than her goal to create a good, old
fashioned ghost story to “curdle the blood, and quicken the beatings of the heart”
(Shelley, xxiii). In fact, Shelley tells us that writing has never been a strong point for her
and that her dreams and visions are much more fulfilling and original than anything she
has put down on paper. Even so, this modest introduction reveals much about the
author’s passions and values. Friends, family and the beauty of nature serve as Shelley’s
muses and without these positive influences her masterpiece would never have been
realized. These elements which make the author successful are the exact things that her
protagonist negates; thereby leading to his demise. Shelley tells us that she has never
been obsessed with her work, but only writes at the urging of her husband, poet Percy
Bysshe Shelley:
…reality stood in place of fiction. My husband, however, was from the first, very
anxious that I should prove myself worthy of my parentage, and enrol myself on
the page of fame. He was for ever inciting me to obtain literary reputation, which
even on my own part I cared for then, though since I have become infinitely
indifferent to it. (xxii)
Even after the completion of a shorter, first draft of Frankenstein, it is Percy who
encourages Mary to “develop the idea at greater length… but for his incitement it would
never have taken the form in which it was presented to the world” (xxv). The contrast is
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evident between the author and her protagonist. The former needs the support of her
family in order to create her great work, while the latter shuns all human contact in his
attempt at greatness. Furthermore, it is a love for nature and the romantic element which
inspires Shelley. Her childhood spent in Scotland was filled with wonderful scenery
which she says was “the aerie of freedom and the pleasant region where unheeded I could
commune with the creatures of my fancy” (xxii). Victor Frankenstein shuts himself off
from the outside world during his work and only later finds solace in nature. In the final
words of her introduction, Shelley’s didactic intention is plainly revealed as she draws a
direct parallel between herself and Victor Frankenstein. Shelley tells us that, unlike her
protagonist, she has affection for her creation:
…for it was the offspring of happy days, when death and grief were but words,
which found no true echo in my heart. Its several pages speak of many a walk,
many a drive, and many a conversation, when I was not alone; and my companion
was one who, in this world, I shall never see more. (xxvi)
Through this parallel Shelley is informing us that, without the presence of friends, family
and the finer points of life, one’s life work is meaningless. Victor Frankenstein can never
enjoy the fruits of his labour because he has no one to share it with, and nothing to guide
his raw talent.
Throughout the novel, characterization sustains Shelley’s sentiment exposed in
her introduction: Victor Frankenstein’s tale to Walton is full of warnings as the latter
seeks a similar path to greatness. Also, the personalities of Clerval and Elizabeth serve as
an antithesis to Victor’s unyielding drive. As Victor reflects upon his downfall he clearly
states to Walton that his negation of friends and family has lead to his demise. Having
shut himself off from those who love him for two years, Victor works furiously toward
his goal. Realizing Walton’s similar situation in his pursuit of a passage to the North
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Pole, Victor lectures the explorer on his lofty ambitions even before he reveals the horror
of his deeds:
A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful mind
and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his tranquility... If the
study to which you apply yourself has a tendency to weaken your affections and
to destroy your taste for those simple pleasures in which no alloy can possibly
mix, then that study is certainly unlawful, that is to say, not befitting the human
mind. (40)
These words seem to parallel Shelley’s sentiment in her introduction that one’s work
must not replace one’s family. Curiously, however, Victor wavers in his instruction
toward the end of his story. When Walton’s men threaten mutiny Victor chastises them
and tells them that they should never give up on their goals: “Be men, or be more than
men. Be steady to your purposes and firm as a rock” (191). This is a strange speech for a
man who regrets his undertaking. Perhaps Shelley has added this speech for fear that her
intentions may be regarded as too negative; there may be a noble quality in the attempt to
pave new ways for mankind as long as the means do not obscure the end goal. Victor’s
final words revert to his initial sentiment as he says, “Seek happiness in tranquility and
avoid ambition” (193). Shelley not only reveals her didactic intention through Victor’s
words, but also does so through the characters that he chooses to shun. Both Clerval and
Elizabeth represent the moral, loving nature that Victor becomes estranged to. They
represent the friends and lovers that Shelley holds dear to her heart and praises for their
aid in her work. In the second chapter, Victor explains that while he is ill tempered and
often violent, Clerval and Elizabeth embody the softer side of human nature:
Clerval occupied himself, so to speak, with the moral relations of things. The busy
stage of life, the virtues of heroes, and the actions of men were his theme.... The
saintly soul of Elizabeth shone like a shrine-dedicated lamp in our peaceful home.
Her sympathy was ours; her smile, her soft voice, the sweet glance of her celestial
eyes, were ever there to bless and animate us. She was the living spirit of love to
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soften and attract; I might have become sullen in my study, rough through the
ardour of my nature, but that she was there to subdue me to a semblance of her
own gentleness. (23- 24)
The characters of Victor, Clerval and Elizabeth represent a trinity of essential traits; the
ambitious academic, the moral leader and the sensitive lover. Only when Victor breaks
this balanced union by shunning his friends does harmony turn to chaos. Shelley is
teaching her reader that there must be a balance between these passions. When one
emotion is left unchecked by the others, it may spiral out of control.
Finally, Shelley’s use of romantic imagery acts as a revitalizing, comforting force
throughout the novel. Nature has the power to heal the overworked, emotionally ruined
Victor and it is nature alone that offers the creature friendship. Shortly after the execution
of Justine, Victor is at his lowest emotional point and contemplates suicide. He decides
to leave his friends and family once again, but this time it is not work that beckons him,
but rather the beautiful landscape of his country. Victor describes his feelings: “The
weight upon my spirit was sensibly lightened as I plunged yet deeper in the ravine of
Arve. The immense mountains and precipices that overhung me on every side, the sound
of the river raging among the rocks, and the dashing of the waterfalls around spoke of a
power mighty as Omnipotence” (76). He goes on to describe the views and sounds of the
land and their effect on his spirits; the winds’ “soothing accents” and the river’s “lullaby”
(77). The influence of Percy Shelley’s romantic outlook is evident in the author’s style.
It is also important to note that nature serves as Victor’s religion; no doubt another
acknowledgement to the author’s husband who was a well-known atheist. In chapter
twenty four, Victor kneels and kisses the earth, swearing to the night and to the “spirits”
who preside over the land that he will avenge the deaths of his loved ones (180). Nature,
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in return, blesses Victor and appears like an angel when he is most in need, to bring him
food and water: “I will not doubt that it was set there by the spirits that I had invoked to
aid me. Often, when all was dry, the heavens cloudless, and I was parched by thirst, a
slight cloud would bedim the sky, shed the few drops that revived me, and vanish” (181).
Indeed, nature and the romantic sentiment act as a benevolent force, not only for Victor
but for his creature as well.
While all of mankind abhors the creature, he tells Victor that, “These bleak skies I
hail, for they are kinder to me than your fellow-beings” (82). Later, in chapter twelve,
the creature exclaims, “Happy, happy earth! … My spirits were elevated by the
enchanting appearance of nature; the past was blotted from my memory, the present was
tranquil, and the future gilded by bright rays of hope and anticipations of joy" (96).
Shelley’s romantic persuasion shines through her writing. The tranquility of nature that
Wordsworth often speaks of (Victor even quotes from ‘Tintern Abbey’) is clearly
illustrated. Neither Victor nor his creature seek refuge in God or religion, but both find
comfort in the majesty of their surroundings.
For a story that has become synonymous with the struggle between science and
religion, the reader is challenged to find condemnation of the former and elevation of the
latter in the novel. Instead Shelley champions the finer, mundane elements of everyday
life. Through her own biographical sketch, her characters’ words and actions, and her use
of romantic imagery, Shelley is making a moralistic statement: we must never deny
friends, family and beauty in our pursuit of greatness. While Frankenstein may be
regarded as the first science fiction novel, it merely uses science as a detail in a story that
relates to many readers (as many sci-fi stories do). As society advances into the future
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and becomes more sophisticated socially and scientifically, one must never take for
granted the sentimental aspects of humanity; friends, family and the beauty of the
mundane.
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Works Cited
Frankenstein. Dir. James Whale. Perfs. Boris Karloff, Colin Clive.
Universal, 1931.
Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein. New York: New American Library (Penguin), 2000.