1271

  • no creature . . . history of man Victor's lot is doubtless a hard one, but the hyperbole by which he inflates it to
    a unique status in human annals is surely self-serving, the more so as this summary
    comes at so determined a break in the narrative thread.
  • 1268

  • nicer eye Nice here bears the significance of sense 12a of the Oxford English Dictionary: "Entering
    minutely into details; attentive, close." Elizabeth's frankness and perspicuity are
    testified to earlier by Victor upon his return to Geneva after William's murder (see
    I:6:41).
  • 1272

  • for the guilty there is no peace Victor's self-conviction is once again expressed with neither mitigating excuses
    nor any sense of possible future exoneration. For him, truly, guilt has become a constant
    state of mind.
  • 1270

  • I had no choice but to adapt my nature As the Creature laments over Victor, he unwittingly uses language with which we have
    become familar through Victor's own usage. Here, it is the terminology of destiny.
    There is, however, an added recognition on his part that the course he embarked on
    was "willingly chosen," which is an acknowledgement that Victor would have been wont
    to suppress.
  • 1269

  • O Night, and by the spirits that preside over thee In all conventional mythologies Night is a figure of discord and threat. As she appears
    in Book I of Spenser's Faerie Queene, she is represented as "griesly Night, with visage
    deadly sad" (I.5.172), testifying that "I the mother bee/ Of falshood" (I.5.240-41).
    The eldest of divinities, she has unimpeded access to the depths of Hell. In Paradise
    Lost Night dwells with Chaos in the "dark/ Illimitable ocean without bound" (II.891-92)
    from which God creates Hell. Whatever Victor thinks he is doing by solemnly invoking
    Night to aid him in his revenge, it is clear, by all traditional associations, that
    no good will come of it.

    The observant reader may recall that the Creature invoked figures associated with
    the daytime in swearing before Victor that, if he were given a partner, he would never
    trouble his maker again (see II:9:17).

  • 1262

  • my wretchedness Once again, the Creature reverses Victor's assignment of "wretchedness," affirming
    that it is the state he is forced to inhabit, not the condition he wishes to perpetrate
    on human society.
  • 1240

  • Suddenly the broad disk of the moon arose Since the rising of the moon is, like the dawning of the sun, a phenomenon marked
    almost wholly by its gradual character, the reader can attribute this statement either
    to Mary Shelley's desire for a gothic ambience or, more consistent with her art, to
    Victor's overheated imagination. Since the previous paragraphs have, through the foreshortening
    of time, already hinted at his surrender to mania, this could be intended as a further
    example of the slippage of his sense of reality.
  • 1244

  • most miserable of mortals The terms here have a strongly echoing effect, returning us to the language in which
    the Creature and Victor acknowledged their similarities toward the end of the colloquy
    on the Mer-de-Glace (II:8:36, II:9:2, II:9:5).
  • 1243

  • the most distinguished natural philosophers In general terms England was the center for scientific knowledge in the Europe of
    the late Enlightenment. A major reason for this was the presence of the Royal Society
    for the Improvement of Natural Knowledge, founded in 1660 shortly after the restoration
    of Charles II: its periodical, Philosophical Transactions, was still in Mary Shelley's
    day the principal scientific journal of the world. The president of the Royal Society
    at the time of the publication of Frankenstein was Sir Joseph Banks, one of the great
    explorers and botanists of the eighteenth century. Although Banks's diverse interests
    would not have specifically engaged Victor Frankenstein, we can be sure that his example
    would have been a guiding light for Walton. That of his successor, Sir Humphrey Davy,
    however, would have equally drawn Victor's admiration, since he was perhaps the premier
    scientist experimenting with the chemical effects of electricity in the first quarter
    of the nineteenth century.

    Percy Bysshe Shelley, it should be noted, attended a number of anatomical lectures
    by John Abernethy in 1811.

  • 1245

  • motion of every muscle . . . extremities of my limbs The oddity of this observation seems to be directly based in Victor's experience
    as a physiologist. What the reader cannot miss, however, is the extent of self-absorption
    that could lead a man in the process of discovering his wife's corpse to note his
    own bodily symptoms with such detached scrupulosity.