1142

  • The Greeks wept for joy

    Mary Shelley refers to the account of the long Greek retreat from Armenia in Xenophon's
    Anabasis, 4.7, quoted here in the translation of Carleton L. Brownson (Cambridge:
    Harvard University Press, 1918):

    {329}
    [18] Leaving this land [of the Chalybians], the Greeks arrived at the Harpasus river,
    which was four plethra in width. From there they marched through the territory of
    the Scythinians four stages, twenty parasangs, over a level plain, and they arrived
    at some villages, and there remained for three days and collected provisions.

    [19] From there they journeyed four stages, twenty parasangs, to a large and prosperous
    inhabited city which was called Gymnias. From this city the ruler of the land sent
    the Greeks a guide, in order to lead them through territory that was hostile to his
    own.

    [20] When the guide came, he said that he would lead them within five days to a place
    from which they could see the sea; if he failed to do so, he was ready to accept death.
    Thus taking the lead, as soon as he had brought them into the hostile territory, he
    kept urging them to spread abroad fire and ruin, thereby making it clear that it {331}
    was with this end in view that he had come, and not out of good-will toward the Greeks.

    [21] On the fifth day they did in fact reach the mountain; its name was Theches. Now
    as soon as the vanguard got to the top of the mountain, a great shout went up.

    [22] And when Xenophon and the rearguard heard it, they imagined that other enemies
    were attacking in front; for enemies were following behind them from the district
    that was in flames, and the rearguard had killed some of them and captured others
    by setting an ambush, and had also taken about twenty wicker shields covered with
    raw, shaggy ox-hides.

    [23] But as the shout kept getting louder and nearer, as the successive ranks that
    came up all began to run at full speed toward the ranks ahead that were one after
    another joining in the shout, and as the shout kept growing far louder as the number
    of men grew steadily greater, it became quite clear to Xenophon that here was something
    of unusual importance;

    [24] so he mounted a horse, took with him Lycius and the cavalry, and pushed ahead
    to lend aid; and in a moment they heard the soldiers shouting, "The Sea! The Sea!"
    and passing the word along. Then all the troops of the rearguard likewise broke into
    a run, and the pack animals began racing ahead and the horses.

    [25] And when all had reached the summit, then indeed they fell to embracing one another,
    and generals and captains as well, with tears in their eyes. And on a sudden, at the
    bidding of some one or other, the soldiers began to bring stones and to build a great
    cairn.

    [26] Thereon they placed as offerings a quantity of raw ox-hides and walking-sticks
    and the captured wicker shields; and the guide not only cut these {333} shields to
    pieces himself, but urged the others to do so.

    [27] After this the Greeks dismissed the guide with gifts from the common stock --
    a horse, a silver cup, a Persian dress, and ten darics; but what he particularly asked
    the men for was their rings, and he got a considerable number of them. Then he showed
    them a village to encamp in and the road they were to follow to the country of the
    Macronians, and, as soon as evening came, took his departure.

    (text from the Perseus Project, Tufts University)

  • 1122

  • a filthy process Victor echoes the term he used to characterize his laboratory in Ingolstadt: "my
    workshop of filthy creation" (I:3:9).
  • 1124

  • a fit of enthusiastic madness Although one of the definitions in Johnson's Dictionary describes the substantive
    of this word as "any violent affection of mind or body," in general the connotation
    emphasized is the temporary state of the affliction. In contrast, Victor's enthusiastic
    obsession was years in its gestation, and it was succeeded by another, more lethal
    obsession with the destruction of the being he created. In other words, though the
    madness he admits to may have taken several forms, it has been unremitting since he
    entered upon his studies at the University of Ingolstadt. As Victor's diction appears
    to mitigate its force, it suggests that even now, in his final assessment, he is unwilling
    fully to engage his own culpability.
  • 1123

  • The fishermen called to one another In this extreme silence the intrusion of human sounds not only testifies to the ongoing
    processes of everyday life, but reminds us that even in the farthest reaches of the
    globe human beings establish a basic community one with the other. These sounds from
    the darkness at once remind us of the Creature's yearning to participate in such a
    community and reinforce Victor's total self-exclusion from its claims. Moreover, surely
    there is an intentional irony here pitting the productive labor of the fishermen,
    who in turn depend upon it for their sustenance, against the long-postponed and now
    aborted labor of Victor, who is financially free of such necessities, as well as the
    lack of productive community in which the Creature is forced to exist.
  • 1126

  • the image of my former self Although there is some small hint of this function for Clerval in various parts of
    the first volume, only here, after the establishment of a complex doubling between
    Victor and the Creature, does Mary Shelley extend the pattern to involve Clerval.
    Given Mary Shelley's setting Clerval within the context of Wordsworth's "Tintern Abbey"
    in the previous chapter (III:1:21), it is hard not to hear in this phrase the timbres
    Wordsworth addresses to his sister in that poem (lines 116-19).
  • 1125

  • flying to solitude Elizabeth's seemingly innocent expression is remarkable for the extremity of its
    depiction. It suggests that a detached perspective on Victor's withdrawal would make
    it seem more neurotic than it might appear to us as accustomed sharers of Victor's
    point of view.
  • 1127

  • your own free choice The inclusion of this resonant diction seems intended to establish a linkage between
    the personal and more public conceptions of responsibility that can be traced through
    the novel. Although Victor, and recently his father too, think of him as haunted by
    a destiny over which he has no control (III:4:43), Elizabeth's language is firmly
    rooted in the primacy of choice in all human relations. Her rejection of a male concept
    of honor here seems to link it to stereotypes of behavior that at once shackle the
    will and suspend the individual's ultimate responsibility for actions and their consequences.
  • 1130

  • friendship As with other aspects of Clerval, his capacity for "devoted," which is to say, perfectly
    disinterested, friendship separates him as an ideal, both for Victor (who from his
    student days has been too self-absorbed for such friendship) and for Walton, whose
    desire for such a friend, articulated in his second letter (I:L2:1) and in his growing
    attachment(I:L4:21) to Victor, first introduced this theme as central to the structure
    of Mary Shelley's novel.
  • 1129

  • I have longed for a friend Walton looks back to the desire expressed in his second letter to his sister (I:L2:2)
    and reiterated to Victor Frankenstein (I:L4:25), who replied in despondency over the
    memory of his dead friend Henry Clerval (I:L4:26). In reinstating that wish, Walton
    reminds us of how very little time has actually elapsed in the narrative frame of
    the novel as well as of how violent and destructive such intense relationships can
    become when they are based on hatred rather than affection.
  • 1131

  • to fulfill my wishes and my destiny Victor, apparently deluded into believing his desires and his destiny the same, does
    not notice the double connotation to which his phrase is susceptible. His wishes are,
    indeed, for a happy, prosperous marriage; but the destiny he has marked out for himself
    is exactly opposite, to suffer ruin.