Secrecy and Frankenstein

In Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, the eponymous character’s steadfast commitment to secrecy dooms him and his loved ones more than his creation could have done on its own.

Shelley’s masterpiece has often been interpreted as a rebuke to the Enlightenment’s blind trust in science, with Victor Frankenstein as the embodiment of the ambitious scientist who dares play God. He is, nevertheless, far from representative of the archetypal Enlightenment scientist: the secrecy with which he embarks on his project is anathema to the scientific ideals conceived in his time. If Frankenstein had applied the scientific method to his discovery of animation and subjected it to peer review, he would have exposed it to ethics debates and opened it up to more humane uses than the dubious achievement of building a human-being. Instead, his decision to do it in secret bars the possibility of a moral intervention, and ultimately buries this great discovery with him. He is arrogant enough to think that no one else would know of more beneficial applications to his great discovery, and this arrogance is perpetuated by his secrecy.

Frankenstein avoids telling anyone about the monster for over two years, leading – directly or indirectly – to the deaths of his brother, Justine, Elizabeth, Clerval and his father. Ultimately, however, the secrecy sucks the life out of Frankenstein himself. It transforms him into a paranoid wreck, consumed by guilt and driven to banish himself from ever experiencing happiness again. It is noteworthy to compare his feelings to the relief felt by Justine after she falsely confesses: Frankenstein sees that her confession leads to her absolution, whereas his secret-keeping results in him enduring hell.

Secrecy is a poignant theme in Frankenstein and closely tied to the equally relevant theme of loneliness. Frankenstein’s secrecy results in his overwhelming feeling that he has no one to turn to – much like the other two narrators, Captain Walton and the monster.