Introduction
The Enlightenment, coupled with the onset of the Industrial Revolution, wrought profound changes in the human relationship with the environment, particularly nature. This transformative period not only reshaped the function and definition of knowledge but also ushered in capitalism as the prevailing spirit of the era, notably in Britain, where the Industrial Revolution originated (Wrigley 9). Published against the backdrop of the industrial era’s ascendancy in 1818, Frankenstein mirrors the evolving perspective on humanity’s interaction with nature—from perceiving it as a mysterious, wild entity to regarding it as an object ripe for domination and exploitation. In challenging “the Enlightenment’s assumption of human mastery over nature” (Hansen 2), Frankenstein endeavours to unravel the intricate issues arising from nature’s excessive exploitation during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. This article aims to delineate the portrayal of nature within the context of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. The Enlightenment, followed by the Industrial Revolution, marks the initiation of a radical divergence between human culture and nature. Furthermore, my intent is to shed light on how Shelley cautions against the perils of overexploitation as an existential threat to human life. Conversely, the Industrial Enlightenment introduced a novel perspective on knowledge, emphasising “notions of standards and measurable outcomes” (Gomez 367) as its central objectives. This perspective is instrumental in understanding Victor Frankenstein’s creation and his ethical considerations regarding the monster.
Many scholars criticise Frankenstein’s creation as an unequivocal failure, attributing a tragic outcome to both the creator and his monstrous invention. The challenge arises when scholars approach Mary Shelley’s narrative through humanitarian perspectives, equating the life of Frankenstein’s monster to that of humans. Consequently, they assert that “Victor Frankenstein doesn’t value life in the absolute” (Lunsford 174). Similarly, theological viewpoints condemn Dr. Frankenstein for trespassing on the realm of God, with Peters (2018) asserting that “Victor Frankenstein’s sin was to play God, to attempt to create life out of non-life” (145), leading to his eventual punishment for this perceived transgression. However, this ontological outlook, which equates the life of Dr. Frankenstein’s creation with that of humans, is flawed as it overlooks the anthropocentric nature of the industrial era, famously characterised by Baudrillard as “the age of production” (Simulacra 63). Similarly, bioethical analyses of Shelley’s Frankenstein condemn Dr. Frankenstein for his perceived lack of accountability, labeling him an immoral scientist or, more radically, “the mad scientist” (Badii, Guardiola, and Banos 4). Dr. Frankenstein consistently faces criticism for his “unwillingness to accept the ethical consequences of and responsibility for his deed” (Olivier 8). What Olivier overlooks is the significance of the age of production, which alters the language game and aims to eliminate ethical authority as the transcendental purpose of human existence.
In discussing language games, my primary reference is Lyotard’s theories in The Postmodern Condition (1979). Language games were initially introduced by the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, who argued that language is not merely a system of rules and meanings but is deeply embedded in the social structure of society. Lyotard extends this concept by suggesting that different historical periods esteemed different language games (representing sources of truth). In his analysis, Lyotard identifies three language games. The first, termed the “denotative game,” focuses on the true/false distinction (Lyotard 46). The second game, the “prescriptive game,” emphasises the just/unjust distinction (Lyotard 46). Lyotard contends that since the Industrial Revolution, a third source of truth has emerged, replacing these earlier language games: the “technical game,” which centres on the efficient/inefficient distinction (Lyotard 46). Over time, this notion becomes the measure by which human value is assessed (Poorghorban “The Commodified” 56). Lyotard suggests that the postmodern era is characterised by clashes among these different language games, where no single source of truth adequately represents the condition of postmodern society. However, the technical language game appears dominant in early capitalist societies. The examination of Shelley’s Frankenstein draws heavily on Lyotard’s delineation of these diverse language games.
In portraying England’s shift “from a primarily rural and agricultural to an urban and industrial society” (Phillips 60), Mary Shelley captures the profound influence of the industrial era, highlighting its pronounced emphasis on practicality and efficiency. This characteristic of knowledge, crucial in the industrial era, gains legitimacy through language games, particularly the establishment of the “technical game” (Lyotard 46), which casts a shadow over both the Industrial Revolution and the contemporary era. The shift in legitimising knowledge transforms its objective from “truth [to] performativity” (Lyotard 46). From this standpoint, Dr. Frankenstein’s ethical accountability toward his creation becomes irrelevant. Nevertheless, the enduring tension between the moralist’s and the scientist’s perspectives persists (Ruttkay 6), as scholars grapple with the clash between these viewpoints, often failing to recognise the monster as merely an expression of man’s attempt to dominate that which he perceives. Despite the monster’s potential possession of humane characteristics, attributing such traits would not have convinced the nineteenth-century society to treat him equally. The monster consistently remains the Other, and as Lew suggests, the monster’s “ efforts to identify with the human race or with individual humans are predestined to fail” (274). This failure to acknowledge the monster as a manifestation of humanity’s desire for dominance contributes to the perpetuation of its status as an outsider in the narrative.
Influenced by numerous contemporary Romantic literary figures, Mary Shelley unfolds “Romantic fears, offering a dystopic tale of certain demise, one that demonizes technology in the form of Frankenstein’s monster” (Hammond 181). Throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, two opposing definitions of nature emerge. It is crucial to acknowledge that “nature is always in some ways culturally constructed” (Garrard 10). The first narrative of nature is primarily established by the Enlightenment and propagated by the Industrial Revolution, wherein nature transforms into an abundant resource for exploration and exploitation. Man assumes the central role of existence, reducing everything else to mere objects. Similarly, the Enlightenment’s ideology embodies “a disastrous attempt to enslave nature for humanly defined purposes” (Hinchman 665), thereby creating a nature/culture binary opposition that separates man and nature, attributing rationality to humans and irrationality to nature. It must be noted however, that not all philosphers of the era propagated a strict line differentiating nature and humans. Edmund Burke’s idea of sublime closely resonates Shelley’s awe, terror, and magnificence in the face of nature. As Binney asserts, “For Burke, the obscure external object stimulates the subject, which then directs the use of reason in moral action, thereby creating a positive morality” (646). The sublime for Burke is an aesthetic experience that can also be stimulated in the grandeur of nature. The dominant point of view of the englightenment’s thinkers however, remains largely in debt of the alterity of nature.
Contrastingly, the second narrative serves as a reaction to the rationality of the Enlightenment. The Romantic depiction of nature diverges significantly from an ecocritical perspective, as “Romantic nature is never seriously endangered” (Garrard Ecocritcism, 43). Romantic nature is dynamic and responsive, able to act in accordance with its circumstances and consistently capable of self-preservation. As Garrard points out, “man and nature [are] essentially adapted to each other” in the grand narrative of the Romantic period (114). Its vastness introduces mysteries that complicate any singular definition. Unlike the Enlightenment’s attempt to define nature as a subject of study, the Romantic definition of nature remains elusive and unstable. Perkins assers that the harmony and unity with nature is a consistent desire for the Romantic poets (71). Moreover, the Romantic worldview tends to underestimate the vulnerability of nature, potentially putting it at risk whenever human exploitation is sought.
The Romantic period stands as a pivotal era in the development of ecocriticism, characterised by a profound exploration of the relationship between humanity and nature. This period witnessed a significant shift in how nature was perceived, particularly in response to the commodification of the natural world for economic gain during the eighteenth century. As Rigby observes, this era marked the beginning of nature being meticulously analysed and exploited as property to generate wealth (63). Romantic writers, including Coleridge, Wordsworth, Blake, and Shelley, responded to this commodification by emphasising the intrinsic value and spiritual significance of nature. Hutchings argues that Romantic writings contributed to a growing awareness of nature’s ecological fragility and the urgent need for humans to reconsider their environmental practices (175). The rapid industrialisation and urban expansion of the era left many Romantic writers overwhelmed, seeking solace and inspiration in the sublime aspects of nature. Burkholder notes the heterogeneity of ideas within Romantic literature, as each writer offered a unique perspective on the natural world (254). This article aims to explore Mary Shelley’s nuanced understanding of nature and its complex relationship with mankind within the broader context of Romantic ecocriticism.
Penned as an antidote to boredom in Geneva, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus vividly portrays the tumultuous intersection of man and nature. The contemporary capitalist worldview depicts man confronting numerous challenges, overcoming them with seemingly little threat. Even when faced with perilous nature-related challenges, the capitalist man is portrayed as resourceful, always finding a means to prevail. In stark contrast, conquering Frankenstein’s monster appears to be a dramatically fatal endeavour. The narrative challenges the notion of complete dominance during the early industrial period, revealing that, at this stage, man grapples with myriad struggles in attempting to tame nature. Victor Frankenstein and Robert Walton personify the “eighteenth-century Enlightenment philosophers [who] promoted the broad assumption that Nature was ordered and rational” (Smith 66). Guided by this perspective, they sought to define nature by exploring a rational worldview that promised control over everything encountered. The Romantic understanding of nature, as depicted in Shelley’s Frankenstein, opposes this promised rationality, asserting that it is insufficient when man confronts the unpredictable forces of nature. Shelley’s work, in particular, aims to unveil the resistance of nature against the voracious, imperialist, and dominating tendencies of man.
Shelley’s narrative employs Gothic elements to subvert the Enlightenment’s emphasis on rationality and reason. The figure of Frankenstein’s monster becomes a symbol of terror and fear, embodying a liminal space between nature and the unnatural, as Smith highlights (45). Created from a patchwork of body parts scavenged from dissecting rooms and mortuaries, the monster seeks to instill fear in observers (Hirsch 116). Its grotesque form, actions, and Victor’s inability to control it evoke a sense of dread, particularly for Enlightenment thinkers who championed human dominance. Botting further explores Frankenstein’s Gothic aspects, noting how the text judiciously incorporates Gothic conventions to situate the genre within the realm of Romanticism (66). Monstrosity and horror are central themes, with the monster depicted as physically grotesque and terrifying. Victor’s isolation, both physically and emotionally, resulting from his ambitious experiments with nature, underscores the didactic nature of the Gothic narrative for readers.
Nature and Knowledge in the Industrial Era
The advent of the Industrial Revolution ushered in a capitalist era that profoundly shaped man’s self-perception and his relationship with the environment. The acquisitive industrialist deployed numerous discourses to establish and justify his dominance over the natural world. Nature, however, is consistently defined “within the limits of our anthropocentric biases” (Mimiko 1). The Enlightenment era laid the foundation for a “human/nature dualism” (Murphy 313), casting nature perennially as the Other. In fact, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein serves as a narrative which elaborates how the Western logocerntrism creates alterity that is constantly unstable. In Derrida’s view, as Caputo elaborates, “the other is never conceivable or referable except by means of the resources of linguistic difference… The other is a being of marginality, on the margins of language” (457). Frankenstein’s monster, as I will elaborate later is posited in the marginality of logocerntrism which deprives him of an identity independent of that of humans. The monster is defined through his differences to humans. As Derrida points out, “the critique of logocentrism is above all else the search for the ‘other’ and the ‘other of language’” (Kearney 123). Indeed, Western rationality during the Enlightenment marginalised nature and its representations within both physical and semantic realms. Essentially, by establishing binary oppositions, Enlightenment thinkers consistently privileged one term over the other, clarifying which term holds dominance in the human-nature dichotomy.
Drawing from Judeo-Christian tradition, the Enlightenment postulated a subject/object relationship between man and nature, severing any notion of unity. The Judeo-Christian tradition, rooted in the separation of man as a transcendent being and nature as subservient to man’s Reason, further deepened this divide; the “positivist view towards the state of knowledge and an indiscriminate trust in the rationality of humans are arguably accountable for the ramifications that were brought upon humans and the environment at present (Poorghorban “A Postmodern” 99). Jean Baudrillard, in his Mirror of Production, scrutinises man’s relationship with nature, highlighting the notion that “God created man in his image and created Nature for man’s use” (The Mirror 63). The Enlightenment, hinging on Reason as the ultimate solution for humanity, sought to assert man’s superiority over nature. However, this claim to superiority was predominantly granted to the white, European, and imperialist man, excluding others deemed incapable of possessing Reason. Even the eighteenth-century white, European woman found herself positioned differently in relation to nature compared to her male counterparts. This sheds light on why ecofeminists reject attributing feminine characteristics to nature, as “all that is produced, be it the production of woman as female, falls within the register of masculine power” (Baudrillard, Seduction 15). Consequently, the rational white Western man endeavoured to explore and define nature by creating a “human culture in opposition to human nature” (Lewens 1), eventually solidifying a binary opposition.
The Enlightenment’s perspective on nature served to legitimise the capitalist overexploitation of natural resources, framing nature as an abundant source of raw materials that could enhance human welfare. This assumption acted as the guarantee of an order (Baudrillard, The Mirror 53), promising prosperity and earthly happiness for man. The industrialised individual not only viewed inert natural resources as objects of domination but also saw native people from other parts of the globe as sources of exploitation. These individuals were often excluded from the Western cultural tradition, placing them in the nature/culture duality, where they were considered part of nature and opposed to culture, particularly Western culture. The critical term that justified and propagated Western countries’ tyranny toward imperialised nations was Reason, an indispensable part of the Enlightenment (Tongfang 41). However, the problematic issue arises when understanding that the concept of Reason throughout the Enlightenment is itself “a product of the capitalist mode of production” (Tongfang 43). Consequently, everything is defined in relation to meanings and values that serve the capitalist ideology. Imperialist Western nations often failed to recognise tribal people from relatively primitive societies as capable of possessing Reason, subjecting them to tyranny, slavery, and exploitation. It is essential to acknowledge the Enlightenment as a significant turning point in human history, with an undeniable role in contemporary life. However, it also played a role in suppressing and concealing exploited minorities and those from different cultures, races, genders, ages, or abilities (Barr and Steele 506). With this understanding of Reason, the Enlightenment sought to explore and define nature.
In the early Enlightenment era, thinkers approached nature differently, attributing divinity and purity to its essence. In this period, “Nature linked the divine (eternal and transcendental) and the human” (Porter 270). However, subsequent perceptions of nature diverged from such attributions. Nature, at this point, transitioned into the object of investigation, shedding its previous associations as a wilderness occupied by Satan or an intrinsically alive and holy entity (Porter 273). This transformation was essential to forge a new definition of nature that would align with the rational, industrial, and capitalist ethos of the time. Epistemological shifts in the worldview of man necessitated a redefined relationship between man and nature. The new definitions sought to confine everything in relation to man’s newfound status as a dominant and rational being. Consequently, nature acquired new meanings, being dichotomised into good and bad. Good nature was now “dominated and rationalized (acting as the ideal cultural reference)” (Baudrillard, The Mirror 57). To be rationalised, nature had to conform to being natural, and the natural is invariably defined by culture; “in other words, the natural is a cultural product” (Fiske 44). It becomes rationalised and normalised, squarely falling within the boundaries of the rational man. In contrast, “bad nature is hostile, menacing, catastrophic, or polluted” (Baudrillard, The Mirror 57). This bias in the categorisation of nature extends beyond mere meanings and signs. The new definition of the rational man compels him to establish physical boundaries in accordance with this division—where good nature belongs to society and bad nature must be cast out.
The Enlightenment laid the foundation for Western society’s envisioned prosperity through the illumination of scientific knowledge, ultimately paving the way for the Industrial Revolution. The roots of the Industrial Enlightenment can be traced back to the Baconian program of the seventeenth century (Suenaga 1). Natural philosophers of this era shifted their focus toward exploring nature as an object of study, marking a significant transformation in the purpose and definition of knowledge, which now aimed to uncover and exploit nature’s resources. Early Enlightenment thinkers, initially praising knowledge as a self-sufficient entity, underwent a shift in perspective. They became more concerned with the role of knowledge in the context of power. Knowledge, at this juncture, evolved into a kind of discourse that was both exploited and instrumental in exploiting natural resources, as it became “the principal force of production” (Lyotard 5). Scientific knowledge emerged as an epistemology serving the mode of production, and anything failing to align with this purpose was excluded from being considered scientific knowledge. Scientific knowledge has since become the predominant influencing factor in industrial activity (da Rosa 57). However, it finds itself in conflict with other branches of knowledge that do not align with industrial imperatives, aiming to facilitate alternative modes of production. This conflict underscores the tension between scientific knowledge and diverse forms of knowledge that may diverge from the industrial pursuits of the Enlightenment.
With the ascent of scientific knowledge as a cornerstone of industrial and capitalist power, an ongoing discourse emerged to legitimise scientific discourse while marginalising other branches of knowledge. While knowledge primarily proceeds from narrations (Burdman 304) and is legitimised through narration, scientific knowledge gave rise to institutions (Lyotard 25) that excluded society from active participation in the discourse of knowledge. Consequently, this era “was not burdened with any social or historical ‘truth’ but, on the contrary, played on the absence of truth” (Baudrillard, In the Shadow 16). While excluding society from the discourse of scientific knowledge, the new system considered everything as a subject of study. The purpose of knowledge became adaptive to the legislator’s will (Lyotard 35), in the sense that what grants knowledge its legitimacy determines its purpose. Lyotard substantiates this assumption by analysing the theory of language games. He contends “that language ought to be conceived as a series of different and incommensurable language games” (Lyotard and Brügger 79). Lyotard identifies three distinct language games contributing to our understanding of knowledge across various epochs as elaborated in the introduction.
In her epistolary novel, Mary Shelley advocates for a reconstruction of language games, a reevaluation of nature’s relationship with mankind, and a reconsideration of the purpose and limitations of knowledge. The Romantic movement, to which Shelley aligns herself, opposes the industrial man’s utilitarian preoccupation with practical objects. Shelley vividly illustrates these language games and endeavours to break free from the constraints of the technical game. For Romantic thinkers, language transcends mere communication; it is an entity unto itself, self-sufficient and embodying aesthetic, artistic elegance, which becomes the ultimate goal for a Romantic poet. However, the challenge arises as “language communicates discourses, be they ideological or cultural” (Jones 265), and even the emancipatory voice of Romantic thinkers inherently promotes an ideology. In this sense, Shelley’s Frankenstein not only criticises the Enlightenment’s principles but also resonates with a new perspective that advocates for a return to nature and aesthetics. Shelley’s novel meticulously presents a double-edged discourse that not only highlights “threats to the environment” (Löwy and Sayre 7) but also underscores threats to mankind arising from the environment.
Knowledge and Language Games: The Age of Transition
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein delves into man’s encounter with the ramifications of his industrial reasoning, which poses an existential threat to his race. Influenced by the English Romantic movement and Romantic poets, Shelley aims to convey a manifestation of English Romanticism through prose. While her husband, Percy Bysshe Shelley, undeniably impacted her work, there existed conflicts between the two literary figures, and the friction between them served as fuel for creative inspiration (Mercer 85). The central themes in Frankenstein revolve around the rejection of man’s rationality and his careless attitude toward nature. These themes serve as significant characteristics of Shelley’s text. By examining the characters’ perspectives on knowledge, one can elucidate Shelley’s critique of rationality, a concept she vehemently repudiates. The prevailing state of knowledge in 18th and 19th century England is portrayed as contradictory, as no single language game has been fully embraced. Man’s understanding of himself oscillates between the technical language game and other language games (denotative and perspective) identified by Lyotard. Over these two centuries, man’s perception of himself and the world undergoes a transformation, turning him into a dominating force where the universe becomes his playground—a realm of mere objects for investigation and desire. The narrative of this epistolary novel unfolds through the perspectives of Robert Walton and Victor Frankenstein. As such, the primary objective of this study is to shed light on the state of knowledge through these characters and explore the evolving understanding of self and surroundings during this period.
Both Walton and Dr. Frankenstein emerge as early practitioners of the technical language game, driven by an insatiable desire to conquer new realms and sciences. In a letter to his sister, Walton expresses this pursuit, stating, “I am going to unexplored regions to the land of mist and snow” (Shelley 7). While Walton may not fully sympathise with the excesses of Frankenstein’s conduct and curiosity, the potential consequences are hinted at when Walton, in his second letter, asks his sister to remember him with affection, adding, “should you never hear from me again” (Shelley 7). This Faustian obsession with knowledge sets the stage for the profound ramifications that haunt Victor for the rest of his life. Interestingly, Walton is not equally affected, as he, upon visiting Victor and learning his story, rejects the obsessive thirst for knowledge. In his fourth letter, Walton declares to his sister, “you will see me before these papers can come into your possession” (Shelley 9). Frankenstein’s narrative serves as a didactic tale that enlightens Walton about the dangers inherent in the technical language game. As Mellor points out, “Mary’s novel not only portrays the penalties of violating Nature but also celebrates an all-creating Nature that is loved and revered by human beings. Those characters capable of feeling the beauties of Nature are rewarded with physical and mental health” (6). Mary Shelley, through this novel, intricately intertwines danger, fear, and misery with the pursuit of the technical language game. Frankenstein’s initial encounter with the realm of science dramatically differs from his final account of himself.
Frankenstein’s narrative of his earlier life echoes his fervent attachment to scientific knowledge, which ultimately becomes his fatal flaw. In the initial chapters, Frankenstein emphasises the significance of knowledge to himself, declaring, “I was capable of a more intense application and was more deeply smitten with the thirst for knowledge” (Shelley 22). The crucial question arises: does Shelley wholly condemn the technical language game, or does she seek to illustrate “the limits of scientific knowledge and its application” (Back 327)? Drawing a clear distinction between these two paradigms proves challenging; however, examining the repercussions of scientific discourse can aid in reconstructing Shelley’s perspective. The inherent problem with scientific discourse or scientific knowledge lies in its opposition to other discourses and branches of knowledge. Lyotard (2010) contends that “any experimentation in discourse, institutions, and values… is regarded as having little or no operational value” (50) as it may not align with measurable outcomes deemed essential for industrial demands. Victor’s attachment to scientific knowledge reflects his disregard, or perhaps ignorance, toward other branches of knowledge and different language games. However, Victor imposes no boundaries on the application of knowledge, stating, “It was the secrets of heaven and earth that I desired to learn” (Shelley 23). The challenge lies in the foundation of the Enlightenment’s ideology, which considers Reason as the absolute source of truth and thus rejects any limitations or boundaries while reflecting on other sources of truth and reality through alterity. Therefore, criticising the Enlightenment’s reason equates to criticising scientific knowledge as a whole.
In contrast to Victor Frankenstein, Henry Clerval, Frankenstein’s closest friend and companion, engages in a different language game to perceive the world around him. Clerval “occupied himself… with the moral relations of things. The busy stage of life, the virtues of heroes, and the actions of men” (Shelley 23). The diverse perspectives on knowledge held by different characters highlight the ongoing transition from the perspective language game, which dictates a grand narrative dominated by humanitarian values, to the technical language game, where efficacy is paramount. While postmodern societies reject and decentralise all grand narratives, Shelley’s Frankenstein unfolds within the framework of these grand narratives. Simultaneously, Shelley’s narrative seeks to challenge and question the authority of technical language games, necessitating the illustration of how this transition between the two grand narratives is unfolding. For Victor, practicality is of utmost importance. Early in the novel, when comparing his pursuits to those of Clerval, Victor declares that “the spirit of good… was ineffectual” (27). While the primary goal of the industrial Enlightenment was to ensure man’s prosperity, Rauch (1995) accuses Frankenstein of lacking “concern for pragmatism in science” (241). Rauch contends that because Frankenstein was ignorant of the consequences of his creation, he demonstrated no “commitment to the application of knowledge in the service of society” (Rauch 241). Contrary to Rauch’s argument, I assert that the predominant grand narrative influencing Victor Frankenstein was rooted in the technical language game.
Frankenstein’s creation of life out of death, initially seen as a revolutionary scientific achievement, takes a dark turn when he is horrified by the grotesque appearance of the creature. The experiment goes awry, and Victor abandons the creature, unable to bear the horror of its countenance: “no mortal could support the horror of that countenance” (Frankenstein 44). The original intent of the experiment was to give life and create a new species that would regard Victor and his kind as father figures. However, the resulting creature is so repulsive that Victor perceives an existential threat to his own species. This realisation leads him to break his promise of creating a female companion for the original monster, fearing the propagation of a race that could make the existence of humanity precarious and terrifying: “a race of devils would be propagated upon earth who might make the very existence of the species of man a condition precarious and full of terror” (Shelley 155–156). Contemplating this possibility, he cannot bring himself to “inflict this curse upon everlasting generations” (Shelley 156). The initial humane sympathy Victor felt for the monster fades as he considers the potential consequences of his actions. Despite his deep devotion to the cause of humanity, he sacrifices himself and his own happiness. The moral obligations that scholars have pondered become seemingly meaningless for the Enlightenment’s man, whose understanding of the universe is framed by the practicality of objects. In this worldview, moral obligations hold no significant role. The monster, in this context, is created to serve, and his existence is justified not through aesthetic lenses but by owing “gratitude” (Shelley 40) to Frankenstein’s kind. Meanwhile, Walton’s account of Victor, when they first interact, reveals a shift in Victor’s viewpoint towards knowledge.
The enthusiastic student of science eventually becomes overwhelmed by science and its applications in general. Mary Shelley, through her gothic didactic story, seeks to caution both Walton and readers against interfering with the natural order of things. In essence, Shelley’s viewpoint suggests a non-interventionist ideology that considers nature to be independent of human intrusions. For a Romantic, “the laws of God are objectified in one way in the laws of nature” (Garber 196). The relationship between man and nature should be one of sublime appreciation rather than exploitation. At the conclusion of his journey, Victor warns Walton and the readers against the potential misery that knowledge and Reason can bring to humanity. He asks, “Unhappy man! Do you share my madness? Have you drunk also of the intoxicating draught?” (Shelley 13). Shelley opposes Reason and the rationality of the Enlightenment, which tends to define everything encountered. However, Victor asserts that “many things will appear possible in these wild and mysterious regions” (Shelley 15), and these phenomena cannot be rationalised and defined through the Enlightenment’s Reason. Frankenstein’s story highlights that rationality and Reason are potentially prone to failure and are not, therefore, the ultimate sources of happiness and prosperity. Once again, Frankenstein warns Walton of the dangers of Reason and rationality, stating, “you seek for knowledge and wisdom, as I once did; and I ardently hope that the gratification of your wishes may not be a serpent to sting you” (Shelley 15). Remorseful as Frankenstein is, he successfully persuades Walton to reconsider his journey.
The rationality of humanity and the Reason that gave rise to the efficient/inefficient duality become subjects of mockery for Shelley when Victor gives an account of an old nurse who cared for him in prison. Very little is said about this old nurse in the course of the novel. While Victor is deeply affected by the death of his companion and friend Henry, the old nurse rationalises this issue and accuses Victor of murdering his friend. The entire novel can be viewed as a cycle of failed rationalisations in which every attempt to rationalise the world and the surrounding events fails to correspond to reality. Victor seeks sympathy, and the old nurse responds, saying, “I believe that it were better for you if you were dead… however, I am sent to nurse you and get you well; I do my duty with a safe conscience; it were well if everyone did the same” (Shelley 168). The nurse’s ignorance and lack of sympathy disgust Victor because she is solely concerned with being efficient in this grand narrative. She feels good as she performs her job properly and pays no attention or sensitivity to humane feelings. In this system, efficiency is paramount. On a different occasion, when William is murdered and Justine is falsely accused of the crime, condemned to death, Victor questions the rationality that leads to a death sentence for Justine. What irritates him the most is “their cold answers… and unfeeling reasoning of these men” (Shelley 75). Victor is well-aware of the false accusation, yet he fails to persuade the judges through Reason. Shelley illuminates how shaky and unstable the pillars of man’s Reason and rationality are. It appears that the utmost trust of man in Reason can easily be called into question.
Another character baffled by this transition of language games and doomed to misery and misfortune is Frankenstein’s monster. Through analysing the behaviour and values of De Lacey’s family, Frankenstein’s monster is initially introduced and influenced by the virtue and moral codes of this family. While the monster fails to identify with humans physically, he does identify with human values. Being affected by perspective and denotative language games is not only the result of analysing De Lacey’s family but studying works of literature, such as Milton’s Paradise Lost. The monster, on this account, proposed, “but Paradise Lost excited different and far deeper emotions” (Shelley 118), and these emotions were “greater treasures than a little food or rest” (Shelley 120). As a result of being exposed to the moralistic behaviour of this family and poetic verses from Milton’s Paradise Lost, the monster declared, “I felt the greatest ardor for virtue rise within me, and abhorrence for vice” (Shelley 118). As Cook observes, “Frankenstein’s creation was not inherently destructive or malicious” (247). In contrast, the dominant grand narrative and the system of thought were already employed by the technical language game, which ignored ethics and morals in general. The Monster’s flaw was that he misread the dominant language game by observing only De Lacey’s family and reading classical works of literature. Accordingly, what Frankenstein’s creature encountered in his real environment disappointed him dramatically, and as a “victim of discriminations… he was socially conditioned to endorse them” (Wolfson 17). The language game that dominates the creature’s system of thought is already obsolete, and he soon feels alienated and disillusioned. As a result, he demands a companion “of the same species” (Shelley 133) with whom he can share the same values. When Victor refused to create a female creature to accompany the monster, the monster was enraged and brought havoc to Victor’s life.
Mary Shelley’s Nature: The Encounter of the Creator and the Creation
The Enlightenment’s definition of nature appears to be quite problematic since it establishes a duality and a separation between man and nature. The Enlightenment’s duality enforces a set of characteristics on each side of this dualism. In this sense, nature is passive, dependent, receptive, ignorant, and wild while man is active, independent, rational, and civil. This duality brings the Enlightenment’s man superiority over nature and through this superiority, man satisfies his needs by exploiting natural resources. This separation and duality are depicted in the works of many Enlightenment thinkers such as Thomas Hobbes. Hobbes illustrates a radically ferocious view of the state of nature, he draws a line between nature and man and he asserts that in the context of nature “there is no place for Industry” (Hobbes 186), and in this state, human’s life becomes “solitary, poore, nasty, brutish, and short” (Hobbes 186). This opposition in nature/man duality is far from being involved in nature and its representations. In fact, the rational, industrial man must seek to tame and dominate nature. As a materialist, Hobbes’s understanding of the world is intertwined with the practicality of objects and he defines human nature in terms of “body or matter, of which, he urged, we are entirely composed” (Wolff 9). Rationalising the world around us in terms of industrial practicality gives very little room to appreciating aesthetic humane feelings which both the people and the monster possess in Shelley’s Frankenstein.
The Enlightenment’s ideological discourse on nature revolves around an ongoing effort to rationalise and justify modes of production. According to Baudrillard, this rationalisation aims to subordinate both nature and the individual as economic factors in the process of production (The Mirror 54). The Enlightenment’s perspective seeks to demystify and define nature in order to facilitate its rationalisation, ultimately viewing nature as a resource for further production. Robert Walton’s journeys around the globe in Shelley’s Frankenstein serve as an illustration of this rationalising process. The quest to uncover “the secrets of heaven and earth” (Shelley 23) is a reflection of the Enlightenment’s desire to define and control nature through a materialistic lens. This rationalised view denies nature any intrinsic identity or truth, reducing it to an object that serves the singular reality of being an abundant resource for continued production. In contrast to the Enlightenment’s rationalisation of nature, English Romantic thinkers sought to break away from the progress and rationality of the era. By the early 19th century, the English countryside underwent radical transformations due to the city’s growing demand for food and commodities, illustrating the tangible impact of Enlightenment-driven changes (McKusick 96). Romantic poets, in response to this upheaval, redefined nature in ways that rejected the rationality imposed by the Enlightenment. While these Romantic definitions varied among poets, a common theme emerged — the rejection of rationality in understanding and interpreting nature.
Mary Shelley’s understanding and definition of nature in Frankenstein deviate from Baudrillard’s dichotomy of good and bad nature. Shelley’s portrayal of nature is more universal, emphasising a dynamic relationship between man and nature. In contrast to Baudrillard’s divided nature, Shelley presents nature as alive, contributing to the lives of characters, including the monster. Chapter ten of the novel is dedicated to describing nature and natural phenomena, where Victor Frankenstein experiences the sublime in nature. Shelley’s nature offers solace and peace to both man and the monster. Victor finds consolation in the sublime and magnificent aspects of nature, highlighting the positive role nature plays in the characters’ lives. The monster, despite being of a different species, shares a connection with humane feelings about nature, rejecting man’s rationality. However, the monster’s inability to fit into the rational understanding of man leads to his rejection by society. Consequently, the monster seeks refuge in nature, emphasising Shelley’s Romantic view that accommodates both man and the monster. While Shelley’s nature is portrayed as accommodating, it also poses threats to Victor and his creation. Nature overwhelms both Victor and the monster with its magnificence, power, and vastness. This portrayal suggests that nature is not submissive but holds a position of power. Shelley’s depiction of nature, while accommodating, also denies its vulnerability. This perspective puts nature at risk, as it may not be fully understood or appreciated, leading to potential consequences for both man and the monster.
In Frankenstein, whenever characters experience melancholy, they find solace and consolation in the majestic views of nature. This pattern suggests that rejecting the Enlightenment’s rationality prompts a search for a new perspective that can provide meaning and comfort. The Enlightenment’s understanding of the relationship between man and nature is seen as flawed, as it fails to define this relationship properly and does not fulfill the deeper meaning that individuals seek in life. The industrial era, a product of the Enlightenment, is portrayed as harmful to both society and nature, leading to class differences and a separation between man and nature. When the Enlightenment’s promises prove unsatisfactory, the characters in the novel turn to nature as a substitute. Victor expresses that, when overcome by ennui, the sight of the beauty in nature can always lift his spirits and interest his heart (Shelley 149). This return to nature becomes a source of meaning and rejuvenation for individuals disillusioned by the failures of the Enlightenment’s ideals. Shelley’s poetic description of nature in the novel incorporates elements of the sublime and the gothic, with beauty and the sublime consistently dominating. This portrayal suggests that finding meaning in a return to the sublime aspects of nature becomes a crucial aspect of the characters’ quest for fulfillment and solace in Frankenstein.
On the other hand, Shelley creates a binary opposition between the Enlightenment’s rationality and the Romantic sublime in which the fruit of the Enlightenment’s rationality is personified in Frankenstein’s monster and the Romantic sublime is embodied in nature. On this account, Frankenstein’s monster who is dramatically ugly and petrifying and whose creator calls “more hideous than belongs to humanity” (Shelley 63), becomes the embodiment of human rationality. The assiduous personification of the Enlightenment’s rationality in the monster which brings man misery and havoc illustrates the Romantic stance towards the Enlightenment and industrialisation. Frankenstein’s monster becomes “a child-murderer” (O’Rourke 550), whose both appearance and mentality are extremely irritating and dreadful. In contrast, nature remains beautiful and majestic; it brings joy, peace, consolation, and happiness to humans.
Conclusion
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus indeed stands as a celebrated gothic work, exploring the encounter between rational man and nature. The narrative unfolds within a shifting landscape of knowledge, morality, and human emotions, emphasising the impact of language games and societal shifts on individual mentalities. Shelley’s work reflects a transition in the state of knowledge, where the purpose of knowledge evolves from a self-sufficient concept to prioritise practicality. This shift is encapsulated in the character of Victor Frankenstein; whose moral accountability becomes secondary to the subject/object relationship inherent in his creation of the monster. The language games, as depicted in the novel, determine how characters perceive rationality and their moral obligations. Frankenstein’s monster serves as a symbolic representation of man’s rationality, portrayed by Shelley as nightmarish and demonic in both appearance and character. The monstrous creation becomes a cautionary tale, illustrating the horrifying effects of an ideology that prioritises unchecked rationality over humane considerations.
In contrast to this terrifying rationality, Shelley offers a return to nature, the sublime, and humane feelings. The rejection of creating a companion for the monster out of sympathy further emphasises Shelley’s critique of a purely rationalistic worldview. The narrative suggests that avoiding trouble and miseries requires acknowledging the limitations and imperfections of human reason. Shelley’s account of rationality in Frankenstein challenges the notion of Reason as an absolute entity, urging a reevaluation. The encounters of characters driven by Reason often end in disappointment, prompting reflection on whether every human question can be adequately answered through rationality. Finally, Shelley’s definition of nature in the novel disregards a simplistic dichotomy of good/bad nature. Instead, she presents nature as a complex force that both influences and is influenced by human actions. The narrative, while emphasising the sublime beauty of nature, also acknowledges its vulnerability and interconnectedness with various factors. Shelley’s work serves as a multifaceted critique, exploring the intricate relationships between rationality, nature, and human experience.
Competing Interests
The authors have no competing interests to declare.