Character Analysis
Victor Frankenstein: Creator and Destroyer
Victor is the novel’s central figure, but Shelley makes him deeply problematic. He is brilliant, passionate, and capable of great devotion — yet he is also selfish, secretive, and morally paralysed when it matters most. His defining characteristic is hubris: the belief that he can play God by creating life. He imagines “a new species would bless me as its creator and source,” revealing that his ambition is driven by a desire for glory, not by compassion or curiosity.
Victor’s tragedy is that he has genuine insight but cannot act on it. He warns Walton that the “acquirement of knowledge” is dangerous, yet in the same breath suggests another “may succeed.” He calls himself the “true murderer” of William and Justine, yet never confesses. He promises the Creature a companion, then destroys it. Shelley presents Victor as a man whose self-awareness is always one step behind his actions — he understands what he has done wrong only after it is too late.
Victor is not simply evil — he is morally weak. His failures are failures of responsibility: he creates without planning, abandons without remorse, and stays silent when speaking could save lives. Shelley asks whether a man who does terrible things through negligence and cowardice is more dangerous than one who acts with deliberate malice.
The Creature: Monster or Victim?
The Creature is the novel’s most complex character. Born innocent, it learns language, develops empathy, and seeks connection. It secretly helps the De Laceys, restrains itself when attacked by Felix, and approaches the blind father with eloquent humility. Yet it also murders William, frames Justine, kills Clerval, and strangles Elizabeth. Shelley refuses to let the reader settle on a simple judgment: the Creature is simultaneously sympathetic and terrifying.
The key to understanding the Creature is the quotation “I am malicious because I am miserable.” Its violence is not innate but caused by universal rejection. The Creature’s identification with Satan from Paradise Lost — “I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel” — frames it as a being unjustly cast out by its creator. Shelley uses the Creature to challenge the reader’s assumptions about monstrosity: is the real monster the being who looks horrifying, or the man who created it and walked away?
The Creature speaks more eloquently than any other character in the novel. Its language is rich, rhetorical, and deeply literary, shaped by its reading of Paradise Lost, Plutarch, and Goethe. This creates a powerful contrast with its physical appearance. When the Creature declares “Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful,” the syntax is controlled and the logic is sharp. When it cries “I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an abortion,” the rhythm is almost poetic. Shelley uses the Creature’s eloquence to force the reader to listen to it, even when its actions are horrifying. If it spoke in grunts, we could dismiss it as a monster. Because it speaks like Milton’s Satan, we must engage with its argument.
Robert Walton: The Reader’s Surrogate
Walton mirrors Victor in ambition and isolation but ultimately makes a different choice. His letters to Margaret reveal a man who “would sacrifice my fortune, my existence, my every hope” for discovery — language that directly echoes Victor’s obsession. Yet when his crew demand he turn back, Walton listens. He chooses the lives of others over his own glory. Shelley uses Walton as the novel’s moral benchmark — proof that ambition can be tempered by responsibility. He represents the reader: someone who hears Victor’s cautionary tale and must decide whether to learn from it.
Elizabeth Lavenza: The Silent Victim
Elizabeth Lavenza is an orphan whom Victor’s parents adopt, and later his wife. The two call each other cousin, but they are not blood relatives. She is presented as beautiful, gentle, and morally courageous — she alone speaks in Justine’s defence at the trial. Yet Shelley also makes Elizabeth conspicuously passive. She waits for Victor throughout the novel, writing letters that go unanswered, trusting him despite his obvious secrecy. Her murder on the wedding night is a consequence of Victor’s actions, not her own. Modern readers often note that Elizabeth functions less as a fully developed character and more as a symbol of what Victor stands to lose — and what the Creature is denied.
Elizabeth is the novel’s moral voice during Justine’s trial, but she is also its most powerless figure. She cannot protect herself because Victor keeps her ignorant of the danger. Her murder is the direct result of Victor’s secrecy and the destruction of the female creature. Shelley uses Elizabeth to show how Victor’s failures harm not just himself but everyone around him.
Henry Clerval and the De Laceys
Henry Clerval is Victor’s best friend and his polar opposite. Where Victor is consumed by science, Clerval loves literature, languages, and human company. He nurses Victor through his breakdown, asks no intrusive questions, and brings warmth wherever he goes. His murder by the Creature is deeply significant: Victor’s failure to warn Clerval about the danger directly costs Clerval his life. Clerval represents the human warmth that Victor sacrificed for ambition.
The De Lacey family serves a dual purpose: they educate the Creature and then reject it. The blind father’s brief acceptance proves the Creature is capable of forming human connections — only its appearance prevents this. Felix’s violent reaction shows that even kind, moral people judge by appearance. The De Laceys are themselves victims of injustice (exiled for helping a wrongly accused man), which makes their rejection of the Creature even more painful. Shelley shows that prejudice is universal, even among the virtuous.
Justine Moritz is a servant in the Frankenstein household who is wrongly convicted of William’s murder. She makes a false confession under pressure from her confessor, demonstrating how institutional power (the Church) can override truth. Victor knows she is innocent but stays silent. Justine’s execution is Shelley’s critique of a justice system that punishes the powerless based on circumstantial evidence. Like the Creature, Justine is judged by something beyond her control — the evidence planted against her, just as the Creature is judged by its appearance.
Justine’s name itself is significant: it derives from the Latin justitia, meaning justice. Her wrongful execution is an act of profound injustice, making her name bitterly ironic. Shelley uses Justine to show that the legal system, like individual humans, can be cruel to those it should protect.