Before, we had only Victor's intimation that he had somewhat procrastinated in communicating
with his family (I:3:10). From Clerval's remark we learn that he had all but ceased
to write them.

Victor quickly recapitulates the process of naming his Creature with attributes of
the alien and supernatural first undertaken on the night of his creation: see I:4:3
and note.

Walton's highly refined sense of good manners here keeps him from inquiring about
what had brought Victor to this desolate northern wilderness. His crew is much more
natural in its reaction. One may sense a certain class snobbery in Walton's tone here,
as there was in his earlier description of the sailors with whom he had to consort
(I:L2:3, I:L2:4). Of course, it might be argued that the class system that so rigidly
divided a ship's officers and its crew resulted in just such a dichotomy: it is not
to the crew that Victor will retail his painful autobiography, but rather to a person
of social breeding and intellectual ambition, if not education, comparable to his
own. On the other hand, it could be maintained that the tone here is wholly unintentional,
an unwitting reflection of the residual bourgeois tonality that Mary Shelley occasionally
betrays in her contemporary publication, A History of a Six Weeks' Tour, when confronted
with what she considers vulgar behavior.

The plural pronoun, following upon the substantive "species," makes us realize that
Victor planned from the first to create a mate for his Creature. It is hardly surprising,
then, that he acknowledges the justice of the Creature's desire when he is recalled
to this expectation in Volume 2 (II:9:8). What in retrospect should be surprising
is the fact that he simply forgets his original design.

These were, as Victor Frankenstein had been reminded the evening before (I:6:20 and
note), shut at 10 o'clock every night.

Victor is implicitly drawing a contrast between the educational program he was provided
by his father and the lack of such a discipline in Walton's formative years lamented
by the mariner in his conversation with Victor some ten days earlier ( I:L4:25 and
note). The recurrence of this theme is manifestly deliberate on Mary Shelley's part.
What the reader is to derive from it, however, is not so certain, since there are
clearly ways in which, whatever his deficiencies in languages or in systematic application,
Walton's moral education will serve him better in the course of this novel than does
Victor's.

Here the succession of names brings Victor at last to the ultimate moral distancing,
positioning his creature as an avatar of Satan and thus grounding the extensive analogy
with Milton's Paradise Lost that is a marked feature of the novel.

Here, in a sudden reversal, Victor indicts himself, recognizing his responsibility
for the consequences of a scientific experiment over which he exerted no intellectual
or moral control. And yet, since he has neither evidence to offer nor can even place
himself within Switzerland when the crime was committed, he is effectually without
any responsibility in the eyes of society. Also, of course, he does not truly know
that the Creature was William's murderer and thus has, in any objective sense, nothing
to offer but supposition that would be inadmissible in a judicial proceeding.

Byron recorded an equally powerful Alpine storm issuing from the Jura in Childe Harold's
Pilgrimage, Canto III, stanzas 92-96, during the summer of 1816.

Main text here.