973
A lengthy pattern of self-analysis and attendant self-alienation is implicit in this
passage. The Creature's divorce from himself is linked to the imagery of doubling
throughout the novel.
974
American usage would substitute the word "switchbacks" for this locution today.
975
The repetition of "boundless" language from the previous chapter (see II:1:6 and note)
emphasizes the point that Victor is, as ever, too "ardent," unable to moderate or
even control his reaction. Whereas some earlier critics wished to enforce a facile
dichotomy between Victor as rationalist and his Creature as the exemplar of sensibility,
a passage like this reminds us of how little power Victor's capacity for abstraction
actually has over the broad field of his mind.
The Creature, as his narrative unfolds, will likewise represent himself through similar
language as he experiences what he conceives to be a betrayal by his "adopted" family,
the De Laceys. At that moment (II:8:12) in his recital he seems unconscious of the
close similarity between the two of them.
976
That the Creature has as yet no notion of how words that define feelings can be applied
suggests that the next stage of his education must be metaphysical, involving an understanding
of the self and an exploration of self-consciousness. For him this will necessarily
entail what Byron called "Consciousness awaking to her woes" (Childe Harold's Pilgrimage
1.941: st. 92).
977
"Wretch" is the first term Victor applies to his Creature (I:4:3), as well as his
appellation for him at his reappearance in this chapter. It is apt that the creature
thus picks up this resonant word and by shifting its form alters its meaning. For
her debut as a novelist Mary Shelley adopts a daring and difficult but brilliantly
successful strategy, keeping the Creature out of sight for most of Volume I while
Victor heaps terms of abuse on his felt presence and renders him for the reader the
monster he is wont to call him. The urbane calm of the Creature's opening statement,
"I expected this reception," is a startling reminder of just how much Victor, in his
narration of his story, has skewed the perspective on its events. In effect, the Creature
takes the opportunity of his finally being heard to rename, to reconceptualize, himself.
And the reader is left hanging in doubt—perhaps, even distrust—about rendering a verdict
from having listened only to one side of the case.
978
own creature
As the Creature's terms have just implicitly placed Victor Frankenstein with the judges
who have wrongfully condemned Justine Moritz to death, so here, he recognizes that
Victor's easy willingness to commit murder, broached in the preceding chapter (II:1:6)
and reiterated to the Creature himself (II:2:6), places him on the same moral plane
as the being he accuses of having committed murder. If Victor does not yet recognize
his identity with his creation, the Creature's plea is reinforcing their "ties" on
every level possible.
979
Alphonse Frankenstein has so chastized Victor over his slippery sense of his family
obligations that he ought to experience some confusion to hear his father's words
echoed from the mouth of his Creature. In a world about to be turned upside-down,
it would not be surprising if Victor's putative son were not in some odd sense to
assume the role of his father.
980
No one, not even his father, ever speaks to Victor so forthrightly or with such categorical
moral language. The diction picks up on the issue of what is a "right" from two paragraphs
before.
981
had become associated with the Lake Poets, Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey, and
was likewise the home of the soon-to-be-famous Thomas De Quincey, who had rented Dove
Cottage from Wordsworth in 1809. Percy Shelley and his first wife Harriet had visited
the region for several weeks in 1811, where they made the acquaintance of Southey
and held long literary and political talks with him of the sort indicated here. This
context might be indicated by the fact that it is Clerval in particular who is attracted
to the region and his new acquaintance there.
982
disinterested motives must raise him in the reader's estimation, especially since
he is close to his death and seems to be struggling for a truthful objectivity. Yet,
a second glance at this phrase calls for its positioning, and we realize that Victor
is referring to the last paragraph of his narration (III:7:26), uttered on 26 August,
not three weeks before. If the last paragraph of his account is so indelibly tainted
as Victor admits, what are we to think of what has preceded it? In other words, by
what has his entire narration been "actuated"? If the whole rests on nothing but "selfish
and vicious motives," then the textual indeterminacy so continually hinted at throughout
the novel may in fact be radical.