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.
  • 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.
  • 1267

  • the new town The area to the north of the old town, between the Castle and the Firth of Forth,
    was developed during the eighteenth century and rapidly became the center of the vital
    cultural and intellectual life of the "Scottish Enlightenment." When Percy Bysshe
    Shelley and his first wife Harriet eloped to Edinburgh at the end of August 1811,
    they took lodgings in George Street in New Town.
  • 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.
  • 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.
  • 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).

  • 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).
  • 1261

  • my wanderings Another important theme of the novel and of the age here resonates in Victor's seemingly
    innocuous phrase. As the Ancient Mariner of Coleridge has been invoked on several
    occasions in the novel, the reader may here wish to see Victor, in his passive surrender
    to his obsession, as willingly assuming that character's fate. But the idea goes considerably
    beyond Coleridge's prototype. The notion of the Wandering Jew, cursed to be an eternal
    vagabond for having taunted Christ on his way to the cross, stands behind both Coleridge's
    and Mary Shelley's conceptions; and, indeed, that myth may be being evoked here on
    a particularly subtle level, as Victor's turning his back on his own will to live
    assumes a psychological counterpart to that taunting of the figure of redemption.
    The poet figure of Percy Shelley's "Alastor" (1815), who wanders over some of the
    same terrain as Victor in search of his visionary love, suggests yet another context.
    Behind that figure is probably another conceptual avatar, the peddler in Wordsworth's
    Excursion (1814) who is explicitly named the Wanderer, and who in that poet's conception
    is able through his internal poise and just relationship with his natural environment
    to maintain his balance amid the turbulence of life. Neither of the Shelleys had much
    respect for that poem, but, needless to say, Victor's balance in contrast to that
    of Wordsworth's peddler is seriously awry.
  • 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.

  • 1242

  • Towards morning . . . night-mare This appears to be a further application of Coleridge's writings to the general tenor
    of the novel. His "Pains of Sleep," in which he recounts the psychic repercussions
    of a nightmare induced by opium, was published in 1816, shortly before Mary Shelley
    began writing Frankenstein.