"Mary Shelley Frankenstein, written under the inspiration of conversations with Byron in the
romantic scenery of the Alps, contains what might almost be regarded ais an allegorical prophetic
history of the development of romanticism. Frankenstein’s monster is not, as he has become in
proverbial parlance, a mere monster: he is, at first, a gentle being, longing for human affection, but
he is driven to hatred and violence by the horror which his ugliness inspires in those whose love
he attempts to gain. Unseen, he observes a virtuous family of poor cottagers, and surreptitiously
assists their labours. At length he decides to make himself known to them:
“The more I saw of them, the greater became my desire to claim their protection and kindness; my
heart yearned to be known and loved by these amiable creatures; to see their sweet looks directed
towards me with affection, was the utmost limit of my ambition. I dared not think that they would
turn from me with disdain and horror.”
But they did. So he first demanded of his creator the creation of a female like himself, and, when
that was refused, devoted himself to murdering, one by one, all whom Frankenstein loved. But
even then, when all his murders are accomplished, and while he is gazing upon the dead body of
Frankenstein, the monster’s sentiments remain noble:
“That also is my victim! in his murder my crimes are consummated; the miserable genius of my
being is wound to its close! Oh, Frankenstein! generous and self-devoted being! What does it avail
that I now ask thee to pardon me? I, who irretrievably destroyed thee by destroying all that thou
lovedst. Alas! he is cold, he cannot answer me… . When I run over the frightful catalogue of my
sins, I cannot believe that I am the same creature whose thoughts were once filled with sublime
and transcendent visions of the beauty and the majesty of goodness. But it is even so; the fallen
angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates
in his desolation; I am alone.”
Robbed of its romantic form, there is nothing unreal in this psychology, and it is unnecessary to
search out pirates or vandal kings in order to find parallels. To an English visitor, the ex- Kaiser,
at Doorn, lamented that the English no longer loved him. Dr. Burt, in his book on the juvenile
delinquent, mentions a boy of seven who drowned another boy in the Regent’s Canal. His reason
was that neither his family nor his contemporaries showed him affection. Dr. Burt was kind to him,
and he became a respectable citizen; but no Dr. Burt undertook the reformation of Frankenstein’s
monster.”
- Bertrand Russell “The History of Western Philosophy” Part II. From Rousseau to the Present Day
CHAPTER XVIII The Romantic Movement p.680-81.