Humanity’s Man-made Monsters

Greetings, wandering soul! The Ink-stained Archivist welcomes you to the Library of the Lost—where, for each lost soul, a story might be found. 

But where are my manners? You’ll catch your death if you linger in this midnight tempest any longer. Please step into the warmth before one of those heart-stopping bolts of lightning steals your very breath. Settle your weary bones there by the hearth while I pour us a comforting drink. On dreary nights like these, I’m partial to a mug of warm milk, myself. I find it counterbalances the gloom and fright—though, I must confess to reading one of my favorite gothic horror novels, despite the inclement weather. Such stories only enhance the thrill of a storm, do you not agree?

But, before we dive into today’s topic, might I draw your attention to this conveniently located “hiring” sign? Yes, that’s right, Myths & Mischief is looking to welcome new faces to our crew of creatives. If you’re an artist, writer, social media maven, coding genius, or graphic designer who prefers to work remotely, we’d love to meet you!

Now, back to our topic!  

What am I reading? Surely you’re familiar with Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. This Promethean novel is credited as one of the first published works of science fiction. Excuse my thinly veiled nod to the book’s full, original title. When the opportunity for levity presents itself, I dare not quell the urge to seek amusement.  

Just the day before, amidst the boom and spray of a morning downpour, I revisited Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, another quintessential Gothic horror novel. In rereading these classics, I find my thoughts are fixated upon the question of humanity’s innate morality. 

Human Morality: the Philosophical Quandary  

Whether humankind harbors within itself an innate sense of morality has long been called into question—so frequently, in fact, that its elusive definition has evaded even the most historically erudite minds. Humanity’s enduring preoccupation with inherent goodness has sparked philosophical debates across generations. This quandary of mortal morality is carefully dissected in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Both novels render a shockingly similar judgment upon the following theme: humans are not pre-destined to be either virtuous or villainous. Instead, as we each shuffle along this mortal coil toward an inevitable end, our choices unveil the truth of our natures—natures moulded, in part, by society’s calloused hands. Choice, rather than inalterable fate, determines a person’s strength of character. This is especially evident after examining Frankenstein’s creature and Dr. Henry Jekyll. As the famous adage goes: art reflects life. It follows, then, that art, too, reflects the artist’s own ruminations and reflections.  

Frankenstein’s Man-made Monster?

Victor Frankenstein’s supposed monster was not created because his master sought to construct a vessel of evil—a claim that cannot be made regarding the conception of Henry Jekyll’s Hyde. Initially, Victor Frankenstein viewed his progeny as a means of achieving scientific renown. While this motivation was not solely a noble one, neither was it inherently insidious. Victor’s creature was born to be his father’s crowning achievement. Yet, although Victor spurned his creation from the second those stolen eyes opened to gaze upon him, the original intent behind his ill-fated experiment was to inspire hope in the form of a nigh divine scientific advancement (32). 

Contrasting Moral Influences: Frankenstein Versus the De Laceys

Early into his existence, the creature is confronted by two disparate depictions of morality. The creature’s makeshift father, Victor Frankenstein, who despised his artificially crafted offspring upon first sight, fled from his own laboratory, awash in horror and disgust—thereby neglecting his obligation to the son he had forged from meticulously stitched bodily remains and electricity. In startling contrast stands the DeLacey family, who, despite their ultimate rejection of Frankenstein’s creature, nevertheless symbolize kindness, piety, and familial love. These opposing influences expose Frankenstein’s creature to conflicting examples of humanity, poignantly illustrating for readers the profound impact society has on an individual’s developing sense of morality. By juxtaposing Frankenstein and the De Lacey family, Shelley refutes the notion of inherent evil and foreshadows the creature’s internal struggle with his burgeoning moral awareness—a struggle dictated not by nature or fate, but by the actions he pursues in response to society’s perception of him.  

From his hiding place, the creature observed the “love and respect the younger cottagers exhibited towards their venerable companion” (74-75). He recognized that the younger cottagers freely sacrificed their own meal for the elder cottager’s benefit because they did not possess enough food to comfortably sustain all of them. The creature was “deeply affected” by the cottagers’ plight, and admitted that “this trait of kindness moved” him, thus confirming that he was indeed exposed to representations of goodness during his formative period. The creature then sought to emulate this most treasured trait when he began borrowing one of the cottager’s tools in order to collect wood “sufficient for the consumption of several days,” which he anonymously delivered (74). Recognizing the cottagers as virtuous, the creature began modeling himself after them. Their obvious goodness inspired in him a desperate yearning for kinship.

The Birth of a Man-made Monster 

Regrettably, the creature officially earned the title of “monster” when he committed the first of three heinous murders, initiating his gradual transformation into the abomination society will ultimately declare him to be. This reprehensible act, therefore, reaffirms that, even when one has exceptional examples of goodness laid before them, they still carry the burden of choice. When the creature later stumbles upon Victor’s younger brother, William, he still retains the subtle influence of the De Lacey family, even after their unceremonious rejection of his offer of friendship. The lonely and forlorn creature devises a scheme to “seize [William], and educate him,” intending to mold the child into a suitable companion for himself (96). However, upon discovering William’s relation to Victor, the creature’s thirst for revenge overshadows the De Lacey family’s positive influence on his moral development. Recognizing William as someone cherished by Victor, the man on whom he promised “eternal revenge,” the creature proclaims the child shall be “his first victim” (96). Because William was innocent of the crimes committed by his wayward brother Victor, the monster had no moral justification for so mercilessly ending the child’s life—oath of eternal vengeance or no (97). The monster creature erroneously rationalized William’s murder as an act of justice. But, in harming an innocent uninvolved in his vendetta or responsible for his suffering, the creature eliminates any remaining ambiguity regarding his moral identity. As William’s final breaths escape him, Victor’s creature is, at last, born. In that moment, he became the very monster Victor believed him to be. 

Jekyll and Hyde: Man’s Dual Nature 

Unlike Frankenstein’s creature, Mr. Hyde was crafted specifically to execute his creator’s wicked deeds. Dr. Jekyll, Stevenson’s titular scientist, is unwilling to indulge in his baser impulses, as doing so would risk damaging his reputation of moral uprightness. Rightfully, Jekyll fears both legal repercussions and social condemnation (82). Instead of simply suppressing his secret urges, Jekyll concocts a scheme to don the disguise of Mr. Hyde “like a thick cloak,” which he thoroughly organized and executed. This level of forethought implies intent. Hyde was merely a means to an end for Jekyll. He was not an independent, self-separate entity responsible for bearing the blame of Hyde’s reprehensible acts of immorality (82). On the contrary, Mr. Hyde is, despite Jekyll’s intentions, a calculated, pre-miditated extension of Jekyll.   

Physical Manifestations of Dual Nature  

Jekyll and Hyde’s physical juxtaposition serves as an aesthetic representation of the archetypal dichotomy presented in the narrative. Both physically and developmentally, Mr. Hyde is portrayed as younger than the esteemed Dr. Jekyll. While Dr. Jekyll’s dignified visage and comparable physical weakness denote his status within polite society, subsequently hindering his pursuit of heedless self-indulgence, a man of Mr. Hyde’s physical proportions was well-suited to execute Jekyll’s latent desires. Mr. Hyde is depicted as being younger, smaller, and slighter than Jekyll (81). In addition to his physical dissimilarity to his other half, Hyde was described as psychologically primitive, embodying a visceral, uninhibited manifestation of human nature. This psychological underdevelopment visually manifests in his crude, vaguely unsettling appearance.   

Jekyll’s Struggle with Culpability 

Dr. Jekyll willingly sought to unleash his more insidious inclinations via the creation of Mr. Hyde, a choice he decides is not available to the respectable Dr. Henry Jekyll, his public-facing persona. Jekyll explains that Hyde, his wicked guise, does not feel unnatural to him, because Hyde “bore the stamp of lower elements” that had, all this time, secretly tainted Jekyll’s otherwise wholesome facade (80). In an effort to rid himself of culpability, Jekyll attempts to cleave apart his dual natures into two distinct and diametrically opposed personas. However, as he continually reminds the reader, the acts performed by Hyde are ones from which both halves of the same men derive pleasure. As the narrative unfolds, Dr. Jekyll seeks to silence his guilty conscience. He emphatically insists that “it was Hyde, after all, and Hyde alone, that was guilty”—though whether this declaration is uttered to influence the opinion of society at large, or spoken by Jekyll in a feeble attempt to convince himself of his innocence, remains ambiguous (83). At points, Jekyll endeavored to “undo the evil done by Hyde,” but these efforts proved fruitless, ultimately failing to ease the burden of guilt weighing heavily upon Jekyll’s fraying, guilt-ridden conscience and fragmented sense of morality. By the novel’s end, when he realized he was unable to reconcile the warring halves of his identity, Jekyll succumbed to the psychological strain of his misdeeds, resigning himself to the consequences of his duplicity (83). 

Good Versus Evil: the Moral Choice

Our world’s most notorious monsters have earned that unsavory designation because they deliberately chose to pursue acts of evil or to submit their wills to the destructive temptations that plague humanity.  Jekyll shrewdly proposes that humans are “commingled out of good and evil” (81). In his own words, Jekyll concedes that the distinct, divergent forces of good and evil wage war within every human mind. This inner turmoil is especially evident in the case of Victor Frankenstein’s creature, who constantly battled with his desire to be loved and the vindictive wrath he felt toward his creator. As illustrated by Dr. Jekyll and Frankenstein’s creature, wickedness is not an innate human characteristic. Every human contains within them both wickedness and virtuosity balanced; it is the burden—or perhaps the privilege—of individual free will that determines in which direction the scale will ultimately tip. Virtuosity or wickedness: the decision lies heavy in the hands of each of us. 

Well, dear wanderer, it appears as if the rain has subsided…for now, at least. Perhaps you ought to risk your escape in the lull between cloudbursts. I must thank you for humoring my philosophical musings. Beware of monsters who bear the guises of mere mortal men; I fear they flourish in only the darkest of nights. 

If you’ve enjoyed this moment of literary mischief, please consider subscribing. Each time we publish a new article, a mysterious, technologically-minded wizard will promptly notify you. But please do not ask me to expound upon how any of that nonsense is achieved; I would, in my befuddled ineptitude, only embarrass myself. 

Your Ink-stained Archivist bids you farewell. 

Works Cited

First edition of Frankenstein. (n.d.). The New York Public Library. 

Raptis Rare Books, Fine Rare and Antiquarian First Edition Books for Sale. (2020, April 9). Strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde Robert Louis Stevenson First Edition. 

Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein. J. Paul Hunter. New York: W. W. Norton, 1995.

Stevenson, Robert Louis. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Martin Danahay 2nd ed. Broadview, 2005.