1120

a fiend whose unparalleled barbarity Here, and throughout the ensuing paragraphs, Victor indulges in a determined, almost
compulsive hyperbole that distances himself from and demonizes his creation. In the
process Victor comes to identify himself with "the whole human race" against the anomalous
alien being he would cast out from it.

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.

1122

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

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.

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.

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).

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.

1128

enthusiastic frenzy Earlier in his recital Victor remembered his compulsive application in Ingolstadt
as "ardour" and thought his "enthusiasm" then to be essentially innocent (I:3:8).
The symptoms noted there all return here, although their neurotic character is now
much more firmly marked.

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.

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.

Subscribe to