1314

  • his remembrance This confirms the sense of mortality initimated by the questions of the previous
    paragraph.
  • 1313

  • that I might remain alone Victor's retreat from society characteristically involves shutting himself up in
    an enclosed room, as he had done when engaged in creating the Creature in Ingolstadt.
    Although the former desire has turned to abhorrence, his practices do not alter.
  • 1312

  • only regretted . . . understanding

    At this point Elizabeth Lavenza is about twenty-one years old. Two years younger,
    Mary Shelley has spent a good part of her childhood in Scotland, has twice been to
    France and Switzerland, and has travelled up the Rhine through Germany and Holland
    (none of it under parental guidance or supervision). That her experiences were unusual
    is reflected in this observation, with its glancing feminist edge.

  • 1309

  • a thinking and reasoning animal As in his initial creation Victor's impulse is to deny humanity to the being he would
    endow with life. What most deeply plagues his mind is the fact that his creation will
    be beyond his control. In a theological extension of this concern, the question before
    the creator is whether the new race, particularly the female member of it, can be
    trusted to exercise free will.
  • 1311

  • I cannot forbear recording it Walton, who cannot resist the impulse to continue a creation whose end he cannot
    predict, bears an uncanny resemblance to the obsessive Victor Frankenstein racing
    to the denouement of the Creature's birth in Ingolstadt (I:3:8). The difference, and
    it is one maintained throughout the novel's self-reflexive mirroring of its own operations,
    is that writing has no effect in the world until it is read. The writer's obsession
    with the text may seem both narcissistic and solipsistic, but this antisocial dimension
    is confined to a conceptual plane. Still, Walton's unselfconscious acquiescence in
    the claims of what seems to him irresistable reinforces our sense that what drives
    Victor is little different from the passions we all share as human beings.
  • 1310

  • The recollection of this injustice The Creature is an acute reader of his own history, aware that amid his accumulated
    experiences of victimization some cases were freer than others from any possible mitigation.
    He concentrates here on the two instances (see II:7:38 and II:8:19) where his own
    disinterested benevolence was rewarded with a violent attack on his person. For all
    Victor's repeated threats to grapple with his Creature, it is interesting to observe
    that after his creation he never again physically touches him.
  • 1329

  • scent of flowers and hay As this is June, the air is suffused with the scent of Alpine wildflowers and freshly
    cut grass: this would appear a memory of Mary Shelley's from the 1816 summer.
  • 1332

  • sensibility Victor is here being characterized as the ideal "man of feeling," in accord with
    Enlightenment cultural standards of a kind associated with the writings of Rousseau
    and, in English, Adam Smith. With the latter, see particularly The Theory of Moral
    Sentiments, 3.2-3.3, 5.2, and 6.3.
  • 1331

  • the lessons of my Seneca

    Lucius Annaeus Seneca (c. 4 BCE — 65 CE). A leading philosopher and statesman of the
    mid-first century, Seneca was also a playwright, whose nine tragedies celebrate stoic
    resignation. As a statesman, his practice was anything but what such a philosophical
    stance might indicate, for he was an activist not a conservative. He was Nero's tutor
    and later acted behind the scenes to secure the emperor's power. He retired from the
    court in the year 62 to devote himself to philosophy, but three years later he was
    denounced as taking part in the conspiracy of Piso against the emperor. Ordered by
    Nero to commit suicide, Seneca took his own life with stoic resignation and fortitude.
    It is not, it would appear, in Seneca's writings but in his example that Walton looks
    for comfort in his peril.

  • 1330

  • my selfish despair If the terms in which Victor recounts his regaining a sense of responsibility cannot
    easily be reconciled with a disinterested ethics, one senses in this phrase a tone
    of self-accusation reflecting a more mature understanding of his own implication in
    the catastrophic events he has unleashed. This acceptance of responsibility is not
    uniform, returning only sporadically in the later chapters of the novel, but it testifies,
    perhaps, to a measure of moral growth; or, if Victor's vindictive diction places that
    conclusion in some doubt, at least to a sharper sense of the price that has been paid
    for his solitary ambition and withdrawal from normative human interactions. Still,
    suspecting that Victor's self-important posture as family protector will only eventuate
    in great calamities, a reader may find it hard not to cast an ironic eye upon what
    continue as usual to be good intentions never sufficiently thought through.