Frankenstein, His Monster, and Moral Responsibility

“You are in the wrong, ” replied the fiend; “and instead of threatening, I am content to reason with you. I am malicious because I am miserable. . . You, my creator, would tear me to pieces and triumph; remember that, and tell me why I should pity man more than he pities me?” (Frankenstein, 226-227)

Mary Shelly sets up a thought-provoking conflict in her novel Frankenstein by creating a narrative in which evil lies in both the antagonist and the protagonist. Both the doctor and his monster commit crimes against humanity, and though the story is told from Dr. Frankenstein’s perspective, I am drawn to sympathize more with his hideous creation.

The monster steals, manipulates, threatens and murders, and purposely torments his creator as revenge for his miserable state. The main crimes of Frankenstein, on the other hand, are negligence, passivity, and a lack of compassion. While the monster lives as an outcast, wandering with no home and no companionship, the doctor suffers the brutal loss of loved ones and the deterioration of his health and mental state. Both characters act out of vengeance and malice. They both feel wronged and struggle with guilt. Both have claims upon the reader’s sympathy, and both act in ways that induce the reader to horror.

This dual moral quandary is strongly evident in the middle of the novel, when Frankenstein first confronts his monster on the snowy mountain peak. Disgusted and horrified by the monster’s appearance and enraged by the monster’s most recently committed murder, Dr. Frankenstein is ready to kill his creation. Yet, the monster urges the doctor to listen to his tale and evokes Frankenstein’s compassion. In this instant, the monster’s claim seems just.

The Monster’s Claim

All the creature wants is a wife. He feels that it is Frankenstein’s duty to provide him with one, to provide for his happiness after bringing him into a world which only looks at him with hatred. As the creature’s creator, Frankenstein has a responsibility to care for the monster; a responsibility which the doctor neglected the moment his creation first opened its eyes. The monster has acted in violence, and yet we learn that he was capable of good.

When first abandoned, the creature ran into the woods and found a cottage. Hiding beside this little house, he learns language, and kindness, and love. When met with fear and anger, the monster flees and rejects humanity as they have rejected him, but he still longs fellowship.

The tale of the monster is a tragedy, not simply because it is filled with hatred, rejection, and isolation, but because it marks the loss of what could have been. Despite his hideous form, the monster was capable of goodness, and that capability leaves the reader asking, what if? What if the family in the cottage had accepted him? What if Frankenstein hadn’t abandoned him to start with? While the monster’s misery is not truly enough to justify his actions and choices, it is enough to give us a pang of remorse over his guilt. Even while his actions horrify me, his plight pains me.

When in the end, the monster resigns himself to wander the arctic after his creator’s death, there seems an additional reason to view the creature as the victim and tragic figure. He had no intention of destroying mankind; he only wanted some reason to live. And when his twisted meaning in life–revenge on Frankenstein–is complete, he abandons mankind forever, without grudge. It’s an almost noble end for this monster.

Dr. Frankenstein

When I look at Frankenstein, my sympathy dwindles. Frankenstein’s actions bother me because he does not acknowledge his own moral responsibility. He creates a beast without first considering the possible consequences. Then, when the monster comes to life, he flees. With one look at the horrible form that he knit together, the doctor assumes his creature is malicious. And rather than trying to contain, teach, or reason with this being, he releases it on society.

Though Frankenstein struggles with guilt and claims the monster’s murders are on his own hands, he does nothing to try to stop the situation until it is already out of his control. He doesn’t warn his family; he doesn’t warn his friends. Though he wrestles with his wrongdoing, he refuses to fully acknowledge it aloud and even asserts on several occasions that he is without blame.

As readers, the impulse reaction is to assign all the moral responsibility to Dr. Frankenstein. He should have known better.  He should have been more thoughtful before creating life; he should have taken care of his creation. Instead, he made the monster in such a way that all would hate him, and he refused compassion when only he could give it. Frankenstein selfishly acts in self-preservation time and time again. This makes it easy as a reader to look at Frankenstein as the one truly responsible for all the evil that occurs. The doctor is without excuse for his action.

Even so, the monster, too, has responsibility. Though I still believe he is the more tragic of the two characters, he had choices. He didn’t have to resort to violence; he didn’t have to murder or frame innocent bystanders. Perhaps Frankenstein is at fault for not nurturing the life he brought into being, but this does not erase the monster’s ability to choose a different path. The creature’s logic is that because he is miserable, he has no choice but to commit these crimes. He asks why he should pity man more than man pities him.

I would answer, because the choice to do good should not be based on the actions of others.

I would answer, because you can.

But perhaps that’s just the optimist in me.

I believe that the monster can be redeemed.