Mary Shelley's Frankenstein stands as a foundational text in Gothic literature, and its enduring power lies partly in its exploration of perennial philosophical questions. Among the most compelling is the debate between nature and nurture: are individuals inherently good or evil, or is their character shaped entirely by their experiences? Victor Frankenstein's creation, often misnamed Frankenstein, provides a stark and tragic case study. While born physically monstrous, the creature's initial disposition appears to be one of innocence and a yearning for connection. It is the relentless rejection and societal prejudice he faces, stemming from his unnatural appearance, that cultivate his vengeful nature. Thus, Frankenstein powerfully argues that nurture, in the form of social environment and the treatment received, plays a more deterministic role in shaping an individual's character than any inherent predisposition.
From his miraculous animation, the creature is a tabula rasa, a blank slate devoid of pre-existing malice. His early experiences are characterized by a profound curiosity and an innate desire to understand the world around him. He observes the De Lacey family, a poor but loving peasant family, with a deep sense of longing. He learns language by secretly listening to their conversations, and he develops empathy by witnessing their acts of kindness, such as their sharing of meager resources with the poor. This period of quiet observation and learning reveals a being capable of appreciating beauty, demonstrating compassion, and desiring companionship. When he attempts to interact with the family, his intention is not to harm but to connect, to reveal his presence and perhaps find acceptance. His failure to do so is not due to an inherent flaw but because his terrifying appearance immediately triggers fear and revulsion, as seen in Old Man De Lacey’s horrified reaction and the rest of the family’s subsequent flight. This initial rejection sets a crucial precedent: his attempts at positive social interaction are consistently met with terror and ostracization.
Victor Frankenstein himself, the creator, is also a product of his environment, though his nurture is vastly different. Raised in a privileged and loving family, Victor possesses a naturally inquisitive mind and a strong sense of ambition. His early life is marked by intellectual curiosity and a desire to push the boundaries of scientific knowledge. However, his obsessive pursuit of creating life leads him to isolate himself, neglecting his family and his own well-being. This self-imposed exile, while driven by a scientific imperative, demonstrates how a flawed upbringing or a singular focus can warp even a well-intentioned individual. His shame and horror upon bringing the creature to life, and his immediate abandonment of his creation, represent a catastrophic failure of nurture. Instead of guiding or caring for the being he brought into existence, Victor recoils, leaving the creature to fend for himself in a world utterly unprepared for him. This act of abandonment is the primary catalyst for the creature’s descent into despair and rage.
The creature’s subsequent actions, while undeniably horrific, are presented as direct consequences of his brutal treatment. Driven by loneliness and a desperate plea for understanding, he asks Victor to create a female companion for him, hoping to escape his perpetual solitude. When Victor, swayed by his own fear and the potential for a race of monsters, destroys the second creation, he seals the creature’s fate. This act of betrayal solidifies the creature's belief that he will never find solace or acceptance. His subsequent acts of vengeance—the murder of William, Justine (whom he frames), and later Clerval and Elizabeth—are not born from innate sadism but from a profound, soul-crushing despair and a twisted sense of justice. He explicitly states his motivations, often to Victor, framing his violence as a reaction to the cruelty he has endured. His targeting of Victor's loved ones is a deliberate attempt to inflict the same pain and loss that he himself has experienced, a desperate, albeit monstrous, expression of his suffering.
Ultimately, Frankenstein suggests that while inherent traits might exist, it is the crucible of experience and the interactions with others that forge an individual's moral compass. The creature’s eloquent monologues reveal a complex inner life, a capacity for deep feeling, and a reasoned understanding of his plight. His narrative arc is a tragic illustration of what happens when a being, capable of love and learning, is met only with fear, hatred, and abandonment. Victor's own story further complicates this, showing how even a seemingly privileged upbringing can lead to moral failings if not guided by responsibility and empathy. Mary Shelley’s novel, therefore, serves as a powerful cautionary tale, arguing that the monsters we create are often born not of the flesh, but of the failures of our own humanity and our inability to nurture with kindness and understanding.