Who is the invisible man in H.G. Wells’ novel? The most obvious—and correct—answer would be, of course, Griffin. Griffin, the mad scientist whose half-genius at unlocking the secrets to invisibility but not the secrets to the way back, is clearly an invisible man. But is he really the invisible man? Again, the answer is obvious: yes. So, the much better question to ask—for the sake of analysis—is whether a more proper title for the novel might not be “The Invisible Men” with a plural?
H.G. Wells is remembered today primarily as one of the godfathers of science fiction. But Wells was also a social critic immersed in the politics and culture of the day. This novel is often viewed solely within the context of Wells writing about the inherent corruptibility of man. The indication is that Griffin was typical—no more or less corrupt than average—before he found the secret to invisibility and that it was the invisibility which corrupted him totally. That much is true and mostly beyond argument. But it is important to remember two things. One, Griffin enjoyed a fair amount of privilege—not extensive and certainly not bottomless, but definitely some—and so really doesn’t quite qualify as a typical member of society. The second thing of importance is the idea of invisibility having the power to make men do things they would not do under normal circumstances had been explored in literature going at least as far as back as far back as Plato’s ring of Gyges. Psychologically speaking, Wells had to know he wasn’t covering particular fertile and untilled territory on that aspect.
Which raises the significance of the novel’s epilogue to a new level. The death of Griffin which brings his visible form back to normal would seem to be the perfect climax from literary perspective. Circularly-speaking, a story that starts with an invisible man which ends with that man now visible is just about a perfect as it gets. And if it is only death which can bring redemption—in the symbolic form of a return to visibility—then ending the novel on that image is also thematically perfect. Everything fits into place like a jigsaw puzzle and the narrator even supplies a final sentence as the bow tying the gift wrapping tight: “Griffin, the most gift physicist the world has ever seen, ended in infinite disaster his strange and terrible career.”
Cut! Print! It’s a wrap. The story is over and the cover can be closed. Except that is not where The Invisible Man end. In fact, it continues on for nearly another seven-hundred words. And those words bring the ending of the story to a close not with a focus on Griffin—the titular character, supposedly—but on a character who doesn’t even enter the story until the ninth the chapter than all but disappears after the eighteenth chapter. He does make that return appearance in the epilogue, however, and so there must be something to that.
Thomas Marvel is introduced by the narrator as an imperative by the narrator: “You must picture Thomas Marvel as a person a person of copious, flexible visage, a nose of cylindrical protrusion, a liquorish, ample, fluctuating mouth, and a beard of bristling eccentricity.” This is hardly the description of someone who goes unnoticed. And yet, Thomas Marvel is a homeless tramp who acquires new footwear as the occasions arises for it to be found. He is one of those poor unfortunate few who go about their day as good as invisible to the masses. Most don’t see these people at all and many who do see them will themselves not to. If they are not already invisible to society, society makes them invisible by choice. This aspect of Marvel already being ignored by society is one aspect which makes him such a delicious choice for Griffin to exploit for the purpose of carrying out those tasks he cannot without risk of losing his advantage of invisibility. Thomas Marvel is not the invisible man, but he most certainly is an invisible man.
He is more than just another invisible man, however. He is the invisible man who actually lives out Griffin’s dream to “become famous at a blow.” The novel’s epilogue relates how Marvel took Griffin’s money to become the owner of an inn and how that inn is popular because people come to hear his stories about his encounters with Griffin. He is living the dream of using invisibility to acquire power. The difference being that unlike Griffin, Marvel’s dreams of power are more manageable, less monomaniacal and allows him to be perfectly content. The man who was once an invisible tramp having to choose between boots that were comfortable but damp or dry but too roomy ends the story not just financially stable, but visible to all: he is considered “great thinker” with a “reputation for wisdom.”
