How I Would Answer the Question about Dramatic Irony

      The dramatic irony that flashes out repeatedly in the scene in which the creature converses with old DeLacey arises from our sharing knowledge with the creature which is unknown to his host, knowledge that endues almost every utterance with a meaning unsuspected by the old man.  The blind host's offer to relieve his guest's needs although he fears that his blindness may hinder him is, of course, completely misguided, for his blindness is precisely that trait that might enable him to relieve the creature's greatest need, for "warmth," although not the warmth provided by a fire. The explanation of the unlikely coincidence of both parties' speaking French might have been brushed aside with a lie that he was French, but the creature is scrupulously honest and realizes that, having been created in Ingolstadt, Germany, he is not French, so he tells the truth and explains his knowledge of French by revealing only just enough of the truth to answer the question: he was educated by a French family.  In saying this only, neglecting to mention that the DeLaceys are that family, the creature creates dramatic irony in that his words are truthful and yet misleading.
       There follows an exchange about the French family in which every word spoken by the creature reveals the essential relationship between him and the family in question without ever touching upon the key fact of their identity.  The old man is left believing that two families are involved: the one that educated the creature and the other, also French, whom the creature has not yet met but is journeying to visit.  When this deception has been allowed to arise in the old man's mind (rather than being deliberately planted there), the next obvious question—where the family lives—would set in place the final piece of the puzzle, so the creature cautiously but truthfully answers, "near this spot," and, having plucked the string of dramatic irony that one last time, he changes the subject.
       Thereafter he allows his longings and fears to tumble out in a rush, freely revealing his loneliness and his misgivings—even his hideous appearance: "a fatal prejudice clouds their eyes, and where they ought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestable monster."  Seeing only part of the creature's meaning, DeLacey assumes him to be speaking metaphorically and urges him to "undeceive them" about his monstrosity.  "Would that he could!" say we, and yet at the same time we recognize that the metaphorical interpretation of the word "monster" is also pertinent, and the old man's advice is sound.  Indeed, the creature is currently engaged in attempting to undeceive his friends, to dispel the cloud that blinds them—or will blind them—to his true nature.  This cloud is in fact the faculty of vision, of course, so the old man speaks more truly than he knows in saying, "I perhaps may be of use in undeceiving them."  And then when he apologizes for his blindness, which he supposes to be a hindrance to him as a helper—"I am blind, and cannot judge of your countenance, but there is something in your words which persuades me that you are sincere"—he is actually putting his finger on his own special qualification for performing this service to the creature.  His promises to aid the creature and his assurances that the friends he depends on will be compassionate are all fraught with dramatic irony since the creature has already told Victor that this episode ends badly enough to have turned him into a fiend of malice and crime:  "I shall relate events that impressed me with feelings which, from what I had been, have made me what I am."
       When the creature suddenly unveils his secret, that the DeLaceys are the family he seeks, the whole truth springs out at once, only to pose undreamed-of questions, which the old man expresses by exclaiming, "Great God!  Who are you?"  The creature's posture of supplication at this moment, clasping him by the knees, together with the old man's dismay, presents to Felix and the two women the appearance of an attack upon a helpless boind man by a huge and ugly stranger.  All the careful building of the truth that has preceded this moment tumbles like a house of cards as the final card is placed on top, and we have the final irony:  The creature's close connection with the family, his love for them, knowledge of their ways, services to them—all come to the old man's knowledge confusedly and in such a rush that he cannot comprehend them, so that those very matters that ought to have bound them close work instead to drive them apart more than if he had been the stranger he pretended to be.