Frankenstein, The Schizophrenic Organism
The horror story Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley is at its heart an argument for the value of each individual cog, a few large, many small, in the vast social machinery of an imperialistic culture moving through human and mechanical revolutions down an ambivalent road that leads to the abysmal fork of destiny. This ambiguous story’s characters are interwoven into a complex network of reflections and parallels, representing a vast array of issues on a variety of levels through multiple symbolisms, representing the three ego states as: Parent, Adult, and Child in what we now call Transactional Analysis. It is all about intrapersonal, interpersonal, and extrapersonal conflicts; sliding through schizophrenia frenzy zones as the many players trek the layers of subplots seem to find or lose unwanted personality traits, while in Victor Frankenstein and his monster, moreover complementary harmony, the duality in human nature, with its inherited ape curiosity, which can bring success as well as misery to the most gifted of beings. “Of what a strange nature is knowledge?” (Mary Shelley, 1818, p.150). The duality of civilization’s relationship to creator and creature is an echo of its relationship to the advancement that civilization worships even though advancement is close to destroying it.
First let’s look at two main opposing social view points. In a Darwinism way of likening society to a multicellular organism, its individual cells can be viewed in two different lights. The various types of cells all have specific roles to perform, and can be assigned value according to their rarity and importance to the survival of the organism. For instance, there are many types of cells, such as muscle cells in the arms, whose functions are not crucial and exist in abundance. The hearts muscle cells and brain cells, however, are few, and they, as a group, are crucial to a multicellular organism’s survival. Moreover, they do not replenish themselves the way that the arm’s muscle cells can. Make the analogy, that brain cells represent the bourgeois, capitalists. Furthermore, the heart’s muscle cells symbolize monarchs, and that the serfs, proletarians, represented by the arms’ muscles. The bourgeoisie supply the intellect to keep the economy operating, the monarchs inspire and finance the operation, and the serfs contribute the labor. You might say, let’s use the arms’ muscle cells for all they’re worth, and so what if a few of them die off in the process, we’ll reproduce more. On the other hand, if you look at it from the perspective that, if the arms’ muscle cells do not get proper nutrition and medical care, they may all succumb to an outbreak of some deadly plague, whereby the organism may starve to death without arms to gather food. Now you may place a higher value on the arms’ muscle cells. Similarly, Mary Shelley’s Monster represents an extrinsically stitched together social organism as well as Victor’s alter-ego, his “. . . spirit let loose from the grave . . . ” ( p. 94). The monster has its own dualities; moreover, it is questionable as to whom, if anyone at all, is the true monster. This along with the fact that there is five or six different definitions of the word “monster,” contributes to the story’s symbolic ambiguity; whereby, leading to a quandary over how many monsters there is, and the degree of their monstrousness in reference to one another. For instance, the “monster” could be a large animal, plant, or object, which means that it might refer to a single large being or large numbers of peasants. A monster can also be one who inspires horror or disgust, as well as a creature having a strange or frightening appearance; whereas, who is more evil, respectively, Victor or the Monster, the bourgeois or the serfs? In addition, a monster can be an imaginary, or even a legendary creature, such as a centaur or Harpy, that combines parts from various animal or human forms. On the other hand, it may be an organism having structural defects or deformities, or a fetus or an infant that is grotesquely abnormal and usually not viable. Is the father responsible for his son’s egocentric behavior, and will children pay for their selfish parents’ sins? First there is the conflict between the established parental Enlightenment, and the emerging Romantic child, scientific reasoning versus spiritual rationale. Then there is the conflict between the few monstrously rich, and the monstrous poor mass. Finally, there are the aggressive, struggling to be more compassionate, versus the passive, struggling to be more passionate. Ideally, these symbiotic life forces should form mutualistic relationships, rather than commensalistic or parasitic relationships. So, who is truly more egocentric, the domineering male or the submissive female, the independent parent or the dependent child, the vain oppressor or the pouting oppressed?
The novel’s main theme is egotism’s monstrous consequence, while the counter theme is friendship’s virtue. The Monster represents an Enlightenment natural man, or noble savage. “A fiendish rage animated him . . . he calmed himself and proceeded, ‘I intended to reason . . . , what I ask of you is reasonable’” (p.183); whereas, Henry Clerval represents the subjective Romantic poet, being “ . . . occupied . . . with the moral of things” (p. 44). The Monster reveals his true station in social context when it says, “. . . the strange system of human society was explained to me. I heard of the division of property, of immense wealth and squalid poverty; of rank, descent, and noble blood” (p.150). A monster, made of parts gathered from graves, a dissecting room, and a slaughter house, represents the serfs, the dregs of society. Then there is Elizabeth Lavenza contemplating “. . . with a serious and satisfied spirit the magnificent appearances of things,” complementing the rational Victor “. . . delighted in investigating their causes. Harmony was the soul of our companionship,“ (p. 42) declares Victor. The Frankensteins are enlightened bourgeois living in the emancipated “republic” of Geneva. Unlike the rest of Europe during the 1790s, it is no longer ruled by the theocracy of Calvin, and has neither bishop nor king. These facts speak volumes about the novel but for my purpose it merely explains the reason that there is no symbolic monarch figure in the story’s social organism analogy, as well as the fact that Victor and Elizabeth represent the masculine and feminine sides, respectively, of Enlightenment’s bourgeoisie.
Victor’s ambivalent soul is intermittently swayed from his supernatural ardor in its alchemistic quest for fame and vicarious immorality by his father’s objective scepticism, Elizabeth’s “. . . calmer and more concentrated disposition” (p. 42), Henry’s Romantic ideals, and his own twisted sense of reason and justice. He is first driven by his unbridled ego to the act of creating the Monster, then he tries to rationalize his right to do it, and later justify repeating the process. His wayward thoughts zigzagging through the past, present, and future illuminate his manic depressive and Schizophrenic behavior. Victor elucidates, “The tranquility which I now enjoyed did not endure. Memory brought madness with it, and when I thought of what had passed, a real insanity possessed me; sometimes I was furious and burnt with rage, sometimes I was low and despondent” (p. 240). Considering Victor’s resemblance to a tragic Greek hero, there is some irony in what he feels when he and Henry visit “. . .the tomb of the illustrious Hampden and the field on which that patriot fell” (p. 203). Victor recalls, “For a moment my soul was elevated from its debasing and miserable fears to contemplate the divine ideas of liberty and self-sacrifice of which these sights were the monuments and the remembrances. For an instant I dared to shake off my chains and look around me with a free and lofty spirit, but the iron had eaten into my flesh, and I sank again, trembling and hopeless, into my miserable self” (p. 203). Victor has become the Modern Prometheus. Prometheus was the Titan who stole fire from Olympus and gave it to humankind, for which Zeus chained him to a rock and sent an eagle to eat his liver, which grew back daily. Victor has symbolically fallen into a perpetual cycle of tortuous death and rebirth. Victor’s oscillating personality and monster alter-ego returning several times to torment him symbolizes Enlightenment’s growing pains into Romanticism. Furthermore, in general it represents cycling societies’ shifting trends, revolting against the old, and monstrous slaves becoming the oppressive monsters masters.
The Monster’s large grotesque body represents the massive serf population’s rough appearance and raw horse power, who could spontaneously revolt against an oppressive ruling class. Not unlike the Monster, their masters created their slave like social status and shunned them. As a group they are companionless and alienated. They come into the world as a tabula rasa with no paternal hand to comfort, guide, and educate them. They must seek their identity on their own on the wild streets of civilization but will they like what they find? The Monster eloquently speaks, “Was I, then, a monster, a blot upon the earth, from which all men fled and whom all men disowned?” (p.150). “. . . I was the slave, not the master, of an impulse which I detested yet could not disobey” (p. 278). Driven to rage by the treatment he receives from frightened people, the Monster discovers, in a spontaneous fit, that he has the power to enslave and isolate Victor, by killing Victor’s companions. “You are my creator, but I am your master; obey,” the Monster concedes, proclaims, demands, and commands (p. 212). A grave worm turns, the trend shifts, and monster slave becomes master monster or slave monster becomes monster master.
In the beginning, Victor’s isolation was voluntary and reversible but then his monster alter-ego forces him into social exile, where Victor dies separated from his family. Victor’s fate is not unlike Napoleon’s, who cut himself off from the common people when he chose to abuse his power, and then was forced into exile on the tiny island of St. Helena where he died alone and deserted by his family, after he lost the battle at Waterloo. Likewise, was the fate of the French Revolutionists not unlike the Monster’s, since France was left prostrate by the Napoleonic wars? Likewise, is the Monster’s condition unlike Victor’s egocentric schizophrenia? The Monster explicates, “A frightful selfishness hurried me on, while my heart was poisoned with remorse. Think you that the groans of Clerval were music to my ears? My heart was fashioned to be susceptible of love and sympathy, and when wrenched by misery to vice and hatred, it did not endure the violence of the change without torture such as you cannot even imagine (p. 278). Engrossed with one another, Frankenstein and the Monster become completely inseparable in their mutual hatred and common misery. They are one in the same, the Schizophrenic Organism, yet separate parts of the whole, and each bent on destroying the other, even though the destruction of either one means the destruction of the other. What will happen if the world’s serfs are likewise enraged? Can they survive without the wise bourgeois commerce sense? Is there truly no hope for these miserable wretches? Look, there is light at the end of the tunnel. It is the chivalrous Robert Walton holding a victorious torch.
Walton parallels Victor in his relentless and egotistical pursuit. Fervently endeavoring to succeed at all cost; a leader of men under pressure of possible mutiny and deadly cold ice. Walton and Frankenstein are both self-proclaimed rationalist. They are both on voyages into bitter coldness, spiritual darkness, and self delusion, though expecting to discover “light” and life’s innermost secret. Walton’s main purpose in this story’s scheme is to show that people are still the masters and not the slaves of their own fate. Oh, Schizophrenic Organism can you cheat destiny’s dark embrace and return to the land of the living? “Alas! Yes; I cannot withstand their demands. I cannot lead them unwillingly to danger, and I must return” (p. 273). You can’t trap and implant, me in your proud penthouse, I’m going back to my prestigious plow. The diametric plant thrives gloriously in the mysterious “light.” Playing on the world’s stage, the leading and supporting roles are equally important. In contrasting harmony they will brilliantly shine like complementary magic stars juxtaposed on life’s mystical tapestry.
The End
by Mark Alan
Postface
The opportunities for segues into Mary Shelley’s addressing of feminist issues have been established; however, I may never have the time to include them; therefore, the reader will just have to make their own inferences. In a full analysis the organization would be tighter, the topic sequencing would be aligned better, and the transitions would be smoother. Shelley seems to see mirrored circumstantial traits between the poor and women in general, although recognizing the status and attitude differences in women of different classes. Sweet revenge only bares a bitter fruit. Is it fear of the unknown or just differences that frighten the soul? Which is worse, unrequited love, or lost love? Who was really guilty of murder? Some have said that Victor’s true crime is against women in trying to eliminate them from the reproduction process. I disagree, since the monster wanted and needed a mate. Does war justify killing? Does oppression justify war? Which is better, a caste system or a class system? Is democracy better than communism? Are the rulers responsible for their subjects well being as well as their actions, and vice versa? After all, it is the subjects actions or lack of action that puts and keeps rulers in power. I did not mention many other characters and issues which have bearing on the heart of Mary’s overall message. To really understand this novel is similar to having a well rounded education. Each individual issue cannot be completely understood on its own. Ironically, all the individual parts need to be examined, and then it all must be tied back together; whereby, this novel is more likely less understood than it is under developed.
© 2017 Mark Alan
Reference
Shelley, M. (1994). Frankenstein: or, The modern Prometheus. New York, NY: Penguin Books.