Godlike Science/Unhallowed Arts: Language and Monstrosity in Frankenstein
Author(s): Peter Brooks
Source: New Literary History, Vol. 9, No. 3, Rhetoric I: Rhetorical Analyses (Spring, 1978),
pp. 591-605
Published by: The Johns Hopkins University Press
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/468457 .
Accessed: 25/11/2013 17:39
Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .
http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp
.
JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of
content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms
of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].
.
The Johns Hopkins University Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to
New Literary History.
http://www.jstor.org
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Godlike Science/UnhallowedArts:
Language and Monstrosityin Frankenstein
Peter Brooks
MARY
SHELLEY'S
Frankenstein
continuesto solicitand disturbus
not only throughits creation of a decisive image of gothic
horror, but also by the pathos of a monsterismin doomed
dialecticwithnature and withculture.It is above all in the question of
language, both as explicittheme of the novel and as implicitmodel of
the novel's complex organization,that the problem of the monstrous
is played out. We mightapproach the networkof issues dramatizedin
the novel firstof all throughthe crucial scene of VictorFrankenstein's
firstinterviewwithhis monstrouscreation,the interviewwhich leads
to the Monster's telling his tale to Frankenstein,the story-within-awhen we consider
story(whichis a story-within-a-story-within-a-story,
the outer frameof the novel and the role of Robert Walton as initial
and ultimatenarrator).Followingthe firstmurderscommittedby his
Monster-William strangled,Justinejudicially done to death through
maliciouslyfalsifiedevidence-Frankenstein journeys to seek solace
in the mountainsabove Chamonix. He penetratesinto the "glorious
presence-chamberof imperial Nature," climbsto Montanvertand the
Mer de Glace, hoping to recapturea rememberedeffectof "a sublime
ecstasy that gave wings to the soul, and allowed it to soar from the
obscure world to lightand joy."' His ascension takes him to a "wonderful and stupendous scene," overlookingthe Mer de Glace, facing
the "awful majesty"of Mont Blanc; his heart once again opens tojoy,
and he exclaims,in the tones of the Ossianic bard, "Wanderingspirits,
if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in your narrow beds, allow me
this fainthappiness, or take me, as your companion, away fromthe
joys of life"(p. 98). Whereupon a superhuman shape comes bounding
over the ice. It is, of course, no spiritof the departed, and no beneficent spiritof nature,but the Monsterhimself,who has at last tracked
down his creator and will force him into parley.
It is worth noting here that every time "nature" is invoked in the
novel, as moral presence presiding over human life, it appears to
produce onlythe monstrous.Thus, earlier,as Frankensteinreturnsto
Geneva after learning of William's death, a tremendous thunHistory,The Universityof Virginia
Copyright? 1978 by New Literary
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
592
NEW LITERARY
HISTORY
derstorm breaks out over the Lake, a "noble war" in the sky that
elevates his soul so that he cries out: "William,dear angel! thisis thy
funeral,thisthydirge!" (p. 75). No sooner is the apostrophe uttered
than Frankensteinperceives in a flash of lightningthe figureof the
Monster hovering near, and with this apparition comes the moral
certaintythathere is William'smurderer.Other instancesconcern the
fate of Henry Clerval, the poet figurein the Wordsworthianmold,
nourished on "the very poetry of nature"; and the creation of the
Monster itself.To these we shall return.Already it may be apparent
thatthe call upon nature the Preserver-the moral supportand guardian of man-produces instead the Destroyer,the monstrous,what
Frankensteincalls "my own vampire" (p. 76).
But I want firstto dwell on another issue raised by the Monster's
appearance across the Mer de Glace. Frankenstein'sinitial reaction
consistsin curses and an abortiveattemptto do battlewiththe Monster.Stillthe Monsterpleads fora hearing. A hearingthatneed not be
a seeing: when Frankensteincommands, "Begone! relieve me from
the sightof your detested form,"the Monsterresponds by placing his
huge hands over Frankenstein'seyes: "Thus I relievethee,mycreator
... thus I take from thee a sight which you abhor. Still thou canst
listen to me, and grant me thycompassion" (p. 101). The Monster
understandsthatit is not visual relationshipthatfavorshim-indeed,
his only favorablereceptionby a human being came, we willdiscover,
from a blind man, de Lacey-but ratherthe auditory,the interlocutory,the relationshipof language.
For the Monsteris eloquent. From his firstwords,he shows himself
to be a supreme rhetoricianof his own situation,one who controlsthe
antithesesand oxymorons that express the pathos of his existence:
"Remember,thatI am thycreature; I ought to be thyAdam; but I am
ratherthe fallen angel, whom thou drivestfromjoy for no misdeed.
EverywhereI see bliss,fromwhichI alone am irrevocablyexcluded. I
was benevolentand good; miserymade me a fiend. Make me happy,
and I shall again be virtuous"(p. 100). When we learn of the Monster'sself-education-and particularlyhis three mastertexts:Paradise
Lost, Plutarch's Lives, and Werther-we will understand the prime
sources of his eloquence and of the conception of a just order of
thingsthatanimateshis plea to his creator.But it is of primaryimportance to registerthe factof the Monster'seloquence, of MaryShelley's
radical and saving decision to stage a deformed and hideous and
menacing creature who, rather than using grunts and gestures,
speaks and reasons withthe highestelegance, logic, and persuasiveness. For in the Monster's use of language the novel poses its most
importantquestions.
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
GODLIKE
SCIENCE/UNHALLOWED
ARTS
593
Frankensteinis touched by the Monster'seloquence. When he looks
at this "filthymass that moved and talked," he feels horror and
hatred; yetby the end of the Monster'stale he avows: "His words had
a strangeeffectupon me. I compassionated him" (p. 148). Through
the medium of language, a firstrelationship is created. Like Coleridge's Wedding Guest, Frankensteinis compelled to hear out the
tale of this cursed being. The force of the compulsion here is no
"glitteringeye," but the power of language itselfto link speaker and
listener.In the narrativesituationof the Monsterfacingand speaking
to his creator,we have an instanceof what we mightcall, in the terms
ofJacques Lacan, the imaginaryversusthe symbolicorder.2The imaginary order is that of the specular, of the mirrorstage, and is based
on deception, the subject's relation to itself as other; whereas the
symbolicorder is thatof language, the systematicand trans-subjective
order of the signifier,the cultural systeminto which individual subjects are inserted. In any specular relationship the Monster will alwaysbe the "filthymass"; it is onlyin the symbolicorder thathe may
realize his desire for recognition.
The Monster hence produces a tale, based, like any tale, on the
"narrativecontract"between narratorand narratee,and founded for
its very possibilityon an order of cultural symbolismwhich implies
thatnetworkof intersubjectiverelationsfromwhichthe Monsterprotestshe has been excluded.3 The close of his narrativesuggests the
importance of language as relation. In arguing that Frankenstein
mustcreate a female monsterto be companion to the male, the Monster asserts that only in communicationwith a similar being can he
"become linked to the chain of existenceand events,fromwhichI am
now excluded" (p. 149). The wish for a semblablemay itselfbelong to
the imaginaryorder, as an instanceof specular narcissismand deception. The termchain,however,identifiesmeaning as residingin a systematicnetworkof relation,in the symbolicorder. It suggestsLacan's
exposition of the "signifyingchain" of language. Exclusion fromthis
chain could be the very definitionof monsterism.The fact of the
interlocutionaryrelationship established by the tale-within-the-tale
(within-the-tale)implies the Monster's lack and his desire. Only
throughthose linked signswhose rules he has masteredcan the Monster hope to enter "the chain of existence and events,"to signify.
Language is also the principal theme of the Monster's storyof his
lifeup to thispoint. His firstexperience withhumankindhas laid bare
the hopelessness of specular relationship,its necessaryresultin alienation and rejection: the shepherd he discoversin a hut flees shrieking from his sight.Retreatinginto the hovel adjoining the de Lacey
cottage, he then begins his education, seeing but himself unseen.
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
594
NEW LITERARY
HISTORY
From his hiding place, he discovers that "these people possessed a
method of communicating their experience and feelings to one
another by articulatesounds" (p. 112). What particularlyimpresshim
are the emotional effectswroughtby these sounds, which"sometimes
produced pleasure or pain, smiles or sadness, in the minds and
countenances of the beholders. This was indeed a godlike science."
Mary Shelley's Monster is evidentlyin many respects an Enlightenment natural man, or noble savage; his firstideas demonstratethe
processes of Lockean sensationalismand Hartleyan associationism.
His discoveryof language implies Rousseau's argument,in the Essai
surl'originedeslangues,thatlanguage springsfrompassion ratherthan
need: need cannot form the necessarysocial contextfor voiced language since itseffectis to scattermen; and need can make do withthe
barest repertoryof visual signs,gestures,imperatives.Passion, on the
other hand, bringsmen together,and the relationof desire calls forth
voice.4 It is hence no accident that what language firstreveals to the
Monster is human love. And it is again no accident thathis rhetorical
plea to his creator ends with the demand for a creature whom he
mightlove.
The Monster also discovers an importantcorollaryto Rousseau's
of
postulateof the emotionaloriginof language: the radical figurality
its
statute
as
the
disfounding
misnaming,transference,
language,
placementof the order of words fromthe order of things.The signis
not consubstantialwiththe thingit names: "the words theyuttered,
not having any apparent connectionwithvisibleobjects,I was unable
to discover any clue by which I could unravel the mysteryof their
reference"(p. 113). The Monsterin thismanner uncovers the larger
problem of the arbitrariness,or immotivation,of the linguisticsign.
And the consequences of thisrecognitionwillbe consonantwithSaussure's: the understandingthat the "godlike science" of language depends, not on simpledesignation,on passage fromthe signifierto the
signified,but ratheron the systematicorganizationof signifiers.From
his initialexperience of language, the Monsterintuitivelygrasps that
it willbe of importanceto him because by itsverynatureitimplies the
"chain of existenceand events"withinwhichhe seeks a place, defines
the interdependencyof senders and receivers of messages in that
chain, and providesthe possibilityof emotionaleffectindependent of
any designation.
The Monster's initiationin language, then, unerringlydiscovers
language to be on the side of cultureratherthan nature and to imply
the structuresof relation at the basis of culture. The discoveryis a
vital one, for the side of "nature" is irreparablymarked by lack, by
monsterism.Againstthe Monster'shearing of the cottagers'language
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
GODLIKE SCIENCE/UNHALLOWED
ARTS
595
is set his discovery of his own features in a mirroring pool, a
passage whichreads as a sinisterparody of Eve's discoveryof her fair
featuresin the pool of Eden, on the day of her creation,in Book IV of
ParadiseLost.In Frankenstein,
the reflectedimage convincesthebeholder "that I was in realitythe monsterthat I am" (p. 114). This specular cogito,where the Monsterwitnesseshis outward identityas alien to
his inner desire, estranged,determinedby the view and judgment of
the Other, clinches the importanceof language as the symbolicorder
whichmustcompensate fornature.The Monsterunderstandsthathe
must not show himselfto the cottagersuntil he has mastered their
language, "whichknowledgemightenable me to make themoverlook
the deformityof my figure"(p. 114).
The thematizationof language becomes so rich at thispoint in the
narrativethatone is forcedto abridge discussion.There is, firstof all,
a crisscrossingof languages implicitin the text: with the arrival of
Safie, we have a lesson in French being offeredto a Persian, in the
midst of a German-speaking region, the whole rendered for the
reader in English. This well-orderedBabel calls attentionto the fact
and problem of transmissionand communication,the motiveforlanguage, and reminds us that the framing structureof the novelWalton's lettersto his sister,to which we shall return-evokes the
same concerns. The Monster learns language through overhearing
the instructionof Safie by Felix and Agatha; he is a kind of secondary
pupil, excluded but learningthe means by whichto be included. Since
the Monster needs language in order to compensate for a deficient
nature,it is fittingthatthe firstuse to whichhe puts his new science is
reading, the written word being for Rousseau precisely the
supplementary and mediate state of language, its transmissible
(hence also potentiallydeceitful)form,whichdoes not demand presence for its operation. The three textswhich the Monster findsand
reads-Plutarch's Lives,Goethe's Werther,
and ParadiseLost-cover the
the
the
and
cosmic
realms,and three modes of love;
public,
private,
indeed
constitute
a
Romantic
universalis.Withthey
possible
cyclopedia
out giving this choice of texts the attentionit deserves, we should
notice that it is the Monster's literalistreading of Paradise Lost that
poses in acute, emblematic,and literaryterms the problem of his
nature: he appears to be a unique creation,in the manner of Adam,
"united by no link to any other being in existence"; yetby his condition,he more resemblesSatan (p. 130). The paradox of his originand
nature willbe resolved by another piece of writing:by Frankenstein's
lab journal, whichsubstitutesformythsof creationa literalaccount of
the Monster's manufacture,a "disgusting"tale of an "accursed origin," by whichthe Monsterdiscoversthathe has indeed been created
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
596
NEW LITERARY
HISTORY
in another's image, but as a "filthytype" (p. 131). The "godlike science" has led him to discoveryof his originsin Victor Frankenstein's
"unhallowed arts" (p. 89).
Thus far, language, and especially writing,must appear to the
Monster,as it did to Rousseau, ambiguous in effect,like the Promethean giftof fire,so strangein its productionof "opposite effects"(p.
105). Yet it remains the necessarycompensation,the only hope for
linkage to humankind. The Monster will tryits effectsfirston the
blind de Lacey. And here the godlike power of the science does reveal
itself,as de Lacey responds: "I am blind, and cannotjudge of your
countenance,but thereis somethingin yourwordswhichpersuades me
thatyou are sincere" (p. 135). Mutual sympathy,benefaction,protection,and relationare on the point of being sealed throughlanguage,
when Felix, Agatha, and Safie enter to throw the situationbrutally
back into the specular order: Agatha faints,Safie flees, and Felix
violentlybreaks asunder the interlocutors.The result is Fall. The
Monsterbecomes explicitlySatanic-"I, likethe arch-fiend,bore a hell
withinme" (p. 137)-sets fireto what had late been his happy seat,
and sets forth into the world in search of the hidden face of his
creator, the deus abscondituswho alone now can restore,through a
second creation,the Monster to that chain of livingsympathies.It is
during thissearch thatthe Monsterwillcommithis firstmurder,that
of William, Victor Frankenstein'sbrother. This act implicates the
question of relationthroughits displacementof oedipal conflict:the
MonsterstranglesWilliamwhen the boy proteststhathis "papa" is M.
Frankenstein; he then stands fascinated,eroticallymedused by the
portraithanging round William's neck, which represents William's
and Victor's mother.The resultof his baffleddesire is the perverse
act by whichhe plants the portraiton JustineMoritz,thus condemning the mothersubstitute("not indeed so beautifulas her whose portraitI held; but of an agreeable aspect,and bloomingin the loveliness
of youth and health"), whose possession is foreverdenied to him (p.
144).
At its completion,the Monster's narrativeimplies that use of language has failed to gain his entryinto the "chain of existence and
events." It has served rather to the knowledge of his unique and
accursed origin. In his confrontationwithhumankind,specular relationship and the imaginaryorder appear to have reasserted their
dominion. Yet, if language has failed to give directaccess to the existentialobject of the Monster'sdesire, it has nonethelessprovided the
means for constructionof a storywithinFrankenstein'sstorywhich
will subvertthe entire set of relationsof which Frankensteinis part.
For ifthe Monster'suse of language has failedto provide access to the
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
GODLIKE
SCIENCE/UNHALLOWED
ARTS
597
desired signified,it has contextualized desire itselfas a systematic
chain of signifierswhose rhetoricaleffectcannot be denied by the
narratee. The symbolicorder is operational.
In the passage fromthe Monster'snarrativeback to Frankenstein's,
desire reveals its functioningas metonymy,explicated by Lacan as a
perpetual "sliding" of the inaccessible signifiedunder the signifier.
Desire (thisis no doubt a simplification
of Lacan's analysis)is born from
an original lack or want, in the discrepancybetween need and demand, which is here, in the relationshipof Monster to creator (as in
the infant-motherrelationship),essentiallythe demand for recognition. In constructinghis narrativeappeal, the Monsterhas made language the vehicle of desire, has built a constructof signifierswhich
figureshis initialwant and lack withoutfulfillingit, so that the interlocutionary relationship, language itself as relation, becomes the
medium of his truth,whichis wantof relation.The metonymicsliding
passes desire on to his interlocutor,charged now with crossing the
"bar" betweensignifierand signified,findingaccess to the meaningof
desire. Frankensteinis forced to accept the establishmentof relation
and the contagion of desire: "His tale, and the feelingshe now expressed,provedhim to be a creatureof finesensations;and did I not as
his maker owe him all the portion of happiness that it was in my
power to bestow?"(p. 147). This response is thebasis fora contractor
even covenant: the Monster will desist from acts of vengeance
against mankind,whileFrankensteinwillundertakea secondarycreation, a female monster.
The covenantwillbe violatedby the creatorhimself,when he mutilates the nearlycompleted formof the monsteress.This violentrupture may serve notice thatFrankensteinhas come to understand that
the Monster'sexpressed wishis a figureforsomethingelse thatcould
endanger the whole dialecticsof desire and repression.He has agreed
to create the monsteressbecause, while he is moved by the Monster's
narrative,he cannot "sympathizewithhim" (p. 148). Creation of the
for inclusion of the
monsteress,in other words, would be a substitute
Monster withinthe human chain; and Frankensteinmay obscurely
recognize thatthe Monster'sdesire forhis mate may itselfbe a substitute for his real, his absolute demand, whichis for recognitionby his
creator. To create the monsteresswould be to create the possibilityof
thatdemand being laid bare, and thisin turnwould put Frankenstein
too fully,blindingly,before the monstrouselementin his own nature
whichled him to create a monstrousbeing: it would forcehim to recognize what he wishes to deny. The Monster would be his symptom
("myown spiritlet loose fromthe grave,"he has said [p. 76]), whichin
Lacanian termsis metaphor,the figureof access to repressed truth.
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
598
NEW LITERARY
HISTORY
Whatever the value of such a speculativeinterpretation,Frankenstein'sdecision to break his covenant withthe Monsterexplicitlyconcerns the "chain of existence and events." It occurs to Frankenstein
that the inevitableresultof "those sympathiesfor whichthe daemon
thirsted"willbe a race of monstrousprogenywhichmay wreakhavoc
on mankind(p. 166). Preciselybecause the special creationdemanded
by the Monster has as its purpose the inceptionof an affectivechain
outsidehumanity-a new family,a new society-it raises the frightening possibilityof a new and uncontrollablesignifyingchain, one with
unknown rules and grammar. Milton's Eve after the Fall considers
that the divine command to reproduce now means "propagated
curse." It is the propagation of his aberrantsignifier,throughunforseeably monstrous messages, that prompts Frankensteinto destroy
what the Monster considers his authentic desired signifiedand to
accept the consequences in terms of his own chain of affectionsconsequences which are immediatelyghastly.
The destructionof the monsteressmarks the doom of any hope
that the Monster mightgain access to a signifyingchain in existence.
He is condemned to the order of words which does not match the
order of things, which hasn't produced the desired referent,but
ratherbroughtknowledgeof the unappeasable lack or differencethat
defines his monsterism.The godlike science itselfproves deceptive:
his eloquence can achieve no more than a state of permanentlyfrustrated desire for meaning; his language is metonymicadvance without a terminus.The way in which, from out of his frustration,he
seeks vengeance on Frankenstein,exactlymirrorsthis situation.He
does not strikedirectlyat his creator-at the holy name which is the
signifiedof all signifiers-but ratherby displacement,by metonymy,
at closely related elements in Frankenstein'sown chain of existence
and events: at his friend Clerval, at Elizabeth the moment she becomes Frankenstein'sbride. Frankensteinmisunderstandsthe direction of the Monster's threats, perceiving only menace to himself.
The Monster'swords,"I willbe withyou on yourweddingnight,"lead
to a fatal blindness as to the threatened object. The reader understands at once that it must be Frankenstein'sbride who will be sacrificedto the bride denied to the Monster.
One could pause over Frankenstein'sblindness,the convergenceof
Eros and death on his wedding night,and the apparent fear of erotic
union. "Oh! peace, peace, my love," he murmursto Elizabeth, "this
night,and all willbe safe: but thisnightis dreadful,verydreadful"(p.
194). Elizabeth may be the interdictedbecause incestuousbride: she
has been raised as sister to Frankenstein,and has furthermoreassumed the nurturingrole of Frankenstein'sdead mother.The nec-
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
GODLIKE SCIENCE/UNHALLOWED ARTS
599
rophilic embrace which is all that Frankensteinobtains follows the
logic of his creativeproject,whichhas usurped the power to make life
fromthe dead. It is perhaps most importantto recognize that fulfillmentwithElizabeth would mark Frankenstein'sachievementof a full
signified in his life, accession to plenitude of being-which would
leave no place in creation for his daemonic projection,the Monster.
That projection must act out Frankenstein'ssadisticimpulses in destructionof the being who would bring rest,and arrest,to Frankenstein's movementof desire, must maintainthe lack which led to the
Monster'screation in the firstplace.
Frankensteinand his Monster are in fact by now engaged in an
exacerbated dialectic of desire, where each needs the other because
the other representsfor each the lack or gap withinhimself.Frankenstein sets out in pursuitof the Monsterwiththe intentof destroying him,but also witha firmintuitionthatthe Monster'sdeath willbe
his own death-that in destroyingthe daemonic side of himself,he
willalso destroythe whole of self.For he, too, is now inhabitedby the
Satanic-like the Monster,he bears "a Hell withinme"-and destructionof the representativeof thathell willentaildestructionof the ego,
now masteredby itssadisticdrives.The MonsterfleesfromFrankenstein,yetdesiringnever to escape completely,intentthatFrankenstein
maintainhis pursuit,for now pursuitalone representsthe Monster's
last tenuous linkto the signifyingchain. It is the only formof recognition by his creator that he can exact. Hence the Monster as he flees
northwardleaves his mark and trace to guide his pursuer, messages
carved in trees,even caches of food to sustain the chase. "Come on,
myenemy,"reads one of the Monster'sinscriptions,in a nice balance
of hatred and affection(p. 204). The pursuitfinallyleads toward the
veryheartof nonmeaning,towardthe lifelesspole, the immaculateice
cap.
What we have said about the Monster'seffortsto achieve recognition and to enter the signifyingchain may pose with new force the
question withwhich we began, the relation of the monstrouson the
one hand to nature, on the other to culture. The question of origins
has been of utmostimportanceto the Monstersince his firstinitiation
into language. Like Oedipus, he has feltthat his very definitiondepended on the discoveryof his generation:"Who was I? What was I?
Whence did I come?" (p. 129). When his origin is revealed, it turns
out to be not the defining plenitude of parenthood-the two who
make one-but rather an undecidable borderline instance, another
lack. He appears to be generated at the veryfrontierbetween nature
and the supernatural, from Frankenstein's studies in physics and
chemistry,which are always on the verge of becoming metaphysics
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
600
NEW LITERARY
HISTORY
and alchemy. When Frankensteindiscovers the principle of animation (the Promethean revelationat the center of the text,which the
text never speaks, which it maintains as a central interdictionand
dumbness), he must proceed throughdeath in order to create a new
life."Life and death," he recalls,"appeared to me ideal bounds, which
I should firstbreak through,and pour a torrentof lightintoour dark
world" (p. 53). Thus he workswithinthe very"citadel of nature" (p.
38), with its firstprinciples,but he is engaged in an overreaching
quest whichbears the markof the counter-naturalfromitsinception.
He collects "with profane fingers" pieces of the dead, his task is
"loathesome," he becomes "insensibleto the charms of nature," and
the seasons pass unnoticed. The Monster comes into existence as a
product of nature-his ingredients are one hundred percent
natural-yet by the factand process of his creation he is unnatural.
Yet since he is a unique creation,withoutprecedence or replication,
he has no culturalcontexteither.He remains,so to speak, postnatural
and precultural.
Despite the ambiguitiesand profanityof Frankenstein'sact of creation, the Monster comes into existence potentially good, an Enlightenmentsavage withessentiallybenevolentinstincts.The storyof
his education is a classic studyof rightnatural instinctpervertedand
turned evil by the social milieu, a counterexample to such pedagogical utopias as Rousseau's Emile. He perfectlyunderstands what has
happened to him. "I am malicious because I am miserable,"he tells
Frankenstein(p. 146); and we mustbelieve that the establishmentof
links between himselfand the human communitywould restore his
benevolence. Natural goodness is hence a real but a fragilequality.
Rejection and isolationeasilyturnus back to an originalaccursedness,
to the Satanic nonserviam:"Evil henceforthbe thou my good."
"Nature" in Frankenstein
appears to be a remarkablyfragilemoral
of
ambiguous implication.It is as if the Monster,generated
concept
withinthe sanctum of nature, at home in its most sublime settings,
mighthimselfrepresentthe final secretof nature,its force of forces.
The novel dissentsfromthe optimisticassumptionthatnature is support and comfortand source of rightmoral feeling,"The guide, the
guardian of my heart, and soul / Of all my moral being," as
Wordsworthwrites in "Tintern Abbey." This dissent is suggested
most forcefullythrough the figure of Henry Clerval, who balances
Frankenstein'spursuit of science with study of the poets. He is "a
being formed in 'the verypoetryof nature' " (the quotation is from
Leigh Hunt), a figure in the manner of Wordsworth.Frankenstein
quotes Wordsworthin descriptionof Clerval:
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
GODLIKE
SCIENCE/UNHALLOWED
ARTS
601
The soundingcataract
Hauntedhimlikea passion:thetallrock,
The mountain,
and thedeep and gloomywood,
Theircoloursand theirforms,werethento him
An appetite;a feeling,
and a love,
That had no need of a remotercharm,
By thoughtsupplied,or anyinterest
Unborrow'dfromtheeye.
The lines from "Tintern Abbey" are usually taken to represent the
poet's first,immediate,unreflectiverelationto nature,now lostto him
but apparent in his sisterDorothy,to whom he can say that "Nature
never did betray/The heart thatloved her." Clerval cleaves to nature
in such a childlike love and trust.Yet Clerval will fall victimto the
Monster in a scenario that curiouslyimplicatesnature. Frankenstein
has defied the Monsterby destroyingthe nearlycompletemonsteress,
and has rowed out to cast thedisjectamembra
into thesea. He thenloses
consciousness,a stormblows up, the sea growswild,his skiffis blown
off course, finallyto come to ground on the Irish coast, where he is
arrested as a murdererand confrontedwithClerval's corpse. Nature
does not protect Clerval from the malignant possibilitiesof nature
itself.There are more than sounding cataracts and sublime mountains in nature: there are also one's friends'monstersand the disseminated pieces of monstrouscreation.
Nature is not one thing,and those who thinkit so are caught in a
self-destructiveblindness. This Frankensteineventuallyrecognizes,
when he cries out to the Genevan magistratewho refusesto credithis
tale of the Monster,"Man ... how ignorantart thou in thypride of
wisdom!" (p. 200). Nature is preserverand destroyer.It possesses the
awesome and ambiguous Power evoked in P. B. Shelley's "Mont
Blanc," a poem writtenin the same summer that Mary Shelley comand a work which takes us back to the situation
posed Frankenstein
with which we began: Frankensteinon the Mer de Glace, in "the
glorious presence-chamberof imperial nature,"where he evokes the
spiritof the majesticmountainand instead summonsforthhis created
daemon. The daemonic potentialof Power in "Mont Blanc" "dwells
apart." Frankenstein
bringsit into human existence,as the destructive
potentialof the creativedrive,or Eros, of nature's creature man.
The fact of monsterismsuggests that nature in Frankenstein
has
somethingof the radical amoralityso insistentlydescribed by Sade.
For Sade, nature permitseverythingand authorizesnothing.Since all
tastesand pleasures are in nature, no perversioncan outrage and no
crime alter nature. For if one searches for an underlyingpatternor
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
602
NEW LITERARY
HISTORY
principlein nature,what one findsis destructionitself.So that man's
destruction-torture,murder-merely does nature's work. The impassibilityof nature,the regulatoryprincipleof lifewhichyetrefuses
to offerany ethicalprinciple,is a source of anguish for Sade; and his
compilationof pleasures and crimescontranaturamcan be read as an
ever-frustratedeffortto make a human mark on nature, to break
nature's bonds, to reach through to some transcendentprinciple.
There are perhaps parallels to be found in Victor Frankenstein's
manic quest to push nature to a frontierwhere it becomes metanature, where it releases its own principleof being. CertainlyFrankenstein'sassault on and in the citadel of nature produces a monsterism
thatboth reveals and mocksthe arcane principle.The overridingfact
of nature in the book-dominating Mont Blanc, the Lake of Geneva,
the Hebrides, and all the other sublime natural settings-is the fact
and possibilityof monsterismitself.It is to this, I believe, that the
Monsterreturnsin his peroration,as he saysfarewellto Waltonand to
the dead Frankenstein: "Blasted as thou wert, my agony was still
superior to thine"(p. 221). He goes on to attributethe superioragony
to remorse. Yet surely it firstof all derives from the condition of
monstrosityitself.This is the supreme agony and the properlymonstrous blot upon nature: that nature should be capable of producing
the monstrous.It is a nature thateludes any optimisticRomanticism,
finallymost to resemble Freud's "uncanny": the Monster perfectly
illustratesthe Unheimliche,
a monstrouspotentialityso close to us-so
close to home-that we have repressed its possibilityand assigned an
un as the mark of censorshipon what is indeed too heimisch
forcomfort.5
The ambiguous and paradoxical nature of nature in Frankensteinitsseeminglyequal potentialas essentiallygood and as self-negatingly
evil-cannot be resolved withinthe orders of the real or the imaginary,but onlywithinthe symbolicorder, and onlyin structuralterms.
That is, the creationsof nature willbe bad or good only throughthe
play of differenceand relation,only in termsof theirplace in the signifyingchain. This is whatthe Monsterhas understoodby the timehe
what indeed he has almakes his appeal to his creatorfora semblable,
of
intuits
the
when
he
ready grasped
possibilities the "godlikescience."
In the play of sameness and differencethatfounds the systemof our
signsforthings,thenin grammarand syntax,we have thebasis of relation and the possibilityof exchange of tokens, communication.The
Monster's failure-what establisheshim irremediablyas monster-is
his inability,despite his eloquence, to find relation.
Afterthe death of his creator,thereremains as interlocutorforthe
Monsteronly Walton,who has been warned by Frankensteinthatthe
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
GODLIKE
SCIENCE/UNHALLOWED
ARTS
603
Monsteris "eloquent and persuasive,"but not to be listenedto. By the
time of his confrontationwithWalton thatcloses the book, the Monster states his recognitionthat his effortto enter into the signifying
chain is at an end withthe phrase, "the miserableseries of mybeing is
wound to itsclose" (p. 217). This expression,"the seriesof mybeing,"is
used twicein the finalscene. The now obsolete sense of series as "sequence," "order,"suggeststhe meaningof "chain"in the word'setymologyand wellimpliesthe metonymic"sliding"of the Monster'seffortto
of desire,the movementever forwardthat can reach
reach satisfaction
no point of arrestand no ultimatestructuringrelationship.It is a textual movementthatcan nevercover over and fillin itscentrallack,that
can reach an end only in extinction.
Yet in a largercontext,the "series"does not stop withthe Monster's
The factof monstrosity
has establisheditsown chain,
self-immolation.
withitsown syntaxand significance.What we witnessat the end of the
book is the contaminationof monsterismas a kind of accursed signifierthatcomes to inhabitthe novel's principalactors.We musthere
reflecton the significanceof the outer frameof the novel,thatframe
which encloses Frankenstein'snarrativeas his encloses the Monster's.
It is notable thatWalton'sinitiallettersto his sisterstrikethe verynote
of the Monster'snarrative:Walton has "no friend... none to participate myjoy .. . to sustain me in dejection" (p. 18). He is reduced to
committinghis thoughtsto paper, "a poor medium forthe communication of feeling,"when really"I desire the company of a man who
could sympathizewithme; whose eyes would replyto mine." Deep in
the uninhabited polar regions,he will meet his firstfriendin a man
who has had similarvisions of Promethean discoveryand fame and
whose understanding of friendship-since the death of ClervalarticulatesWalton's own feelings: "I agree with you ... we are unfashioned creatures, but half made up, if one wiser, better,dearer
than ourselves-such a friend ought to be--do not lend his aid to
perfectionateour weak and faultynatures"(p. 27). Friendshipis thus
defined as specularityand as complementarity,the longing of two
incomplete creatures for fullness in androgynous fusion. But this
dream is no more to be realized than the Monster's hope of union.
Walton loses Frankensteinto death. And he loses his dream of Prometheandiscovery,as his mutinoussailorsvote to turnsouthward.His
hopes are "blasted"-the term which has been applied to Frankenstein's aspirations, and which the Monster will at the last apply to
himself.
All aspirations,then, lie blasted and wasted at the end, as if the
original act of overreaching,of sacrilegiouscreation,had taintedthe
world with monsterism.Each tale interlockedwithintale touches its
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
604
NEW LITERARY
HISTORY
listenerwith the taint of monsterism:Frankensteinreceives it from
the Monster's tale-his life, contracted to the Monster's desire, becomes torment thereafter-and Walton receives it from Frankenstein's.Walton remains,like the Ancient Mariner so oftenevoked in
the novel-or, perhaps more accurately,like the Wedding Guest-the
bearer of a tale of unnatural wisdom, the bearer of the taint of
monsterism.The fate of this monsterismcan only be described as
textual.The ostensiblerecipientof Walton's letters(and hence of the
interpolatedmanuscriptof Frankenstein,itselfcontainingthe Monster'snarrative)is Mrs. Saville, Walton'ssister.(Is there,once again, a
suggestionof incestin the choice of the objectof affection?)It is to her
that all messages will presumablyarrive. But she has no more existence, in the novel, than a postal address. She is inscribedwithinthe
novel as a kind of lack of being, which means that what we are left
withis a text,a narrativetissue that never whollyconceals its lack of
ultimatereferenceand its interminableprojectionforwardto no destination.
The absent Mrs. Saville, facelessaddressee of all the textual mateis exemplaryof the situationof lanrial that constitutesFrankenstein,
guage and desire as they have been dramatized in the novel. If the
Monster'sstorydemonstratesthatthe godlike science of language is a
supplement to a deficientnature, an attemptto overcome a central
gap or lack of being, the inner and outer frames-Frankenstein's
narrative and Walton's letters-indicate that language never can
overcome the gap, thatthe chain establishedhas no privilegedlimits,
no mode of reference,but signifiespurely as a chain, a systemor
series in which everythingis mutuallyinterrelatedand interdependent but withoutany transcendentsignified.There is no transcendent
signifiedbecause the fact of monsterismis never eitherjustified or
overcome, but simplypassed along the chain, finallyto come to inhabit the reader himselfwho, as animatorof the text,is leftwiththe
contaminationof monsterism.Desire-Walton's, Frankenstein's,the
Monster's-cannot overcome the monstrous,but only reproduce it.
Monsterismcomes rather to be contextualized; the text remains as
indelible record of the monstrous,emblemof language's ultimatelack
of transcendentreference.
Freud speculates on the special
In his essay on the Unheimliche,
control the feeling of the unand
to
to
evoke
of
literature
capacity
of controlled play with the
a
kind
be
to
Literature
canny.
appears
daemonic, withthe monstrousrepressed. It maybelong to the logic of
literature that Mary Shelley's daemon should understand that his
place lies within the symbolic order of language. What was not
foreseeable was that,inhabitingthe order of language, the daemon
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
605
GODLIKE SCIENCE/UNHALLOWED ARTS
should fail of ever arrivingat meaning, and become ratherthe very
image of a desire thatcan never fixor pin down meaning,but merely
pass on the desire and the curse of meaning. Yet here we find the
logic of desire in literature,desire of the text and for the text. The
text solicitsus through the promise of a transcendentsignified,and
leaves us, on the thresholdof pleasure, to be contentwiththe play of
its signifiers.6At the same time,it contaminatesus witha residue of
meaning that cannot be explained, rationalized,but is passed on as
affect,as taint.
YALE UNIVERSITY
NOTES
or, The Modern Prometheus(New York: Dell, 1971),
1 Mary Shelley, Frankenstein,
pp. 96-97. Subsequent referenceswill be given between parentheses in the text and
are to this edition,which reprintsthe text of 1831. I have also consulted the valuable
criticaledition prepared by James Rieger (Indianapolis and New York, 1974), which
givesthe textof 1818 (withthe correctionsof 1823) and notes the variantsoccurringin
the textof 1831.
2 I adapt these termsfromLacan withoutgivingthemtheirfullcontextin his thought
and withoutfull exposition of theirimport. On the Lacanian concepts so used in this
essay, see especiallyJacques Lacan, "Le Stade du miroir"and "L'instance de la lettre
dans l'inconscientou la raison depuis Freud," in Ecrits(Paris, 1966).
3 On the "narrativecontract,"see Roland Barthes,S/Z (Paris, 1970); in English,S/Z
(New York, 1974). The termnarrateeis adapted fromG6rard Genette'snarrataire;see
"Le Discours du r6cit,"in FiguresIII (Paris, 1972).
4 See Jean-JacquesRousseau, Essai sur l'originedes langues(Paris, 1970).
5 See Sigmund Freud, "The Uncanny" (Das Unheimliche),
in TheStandardEditionofthe
CompletePsychologicalWorksof SigmundFreud, ed. James Strachey et al. (London
1953-74), vol. XVII.
6 See Barthes,Le Plaisir du texte(Paris, 1973); in English, The PleasureoftheText,tr.
Richard Miller (New York, 1975).
This content downloaded from 192.167.209.10 on Mon, 25 Nov 2013 17:39:16 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions