That the Creature's argument is wholly based on Englightenment premises about the
function of virtue makes them practically irresistible. Here he invokes the golden
rule as the single desire of his existence.

This will be named as a guitar (II:5:3), when the Creature is sufficently educated
in human ways to know the word for it.

As with the condescension to Justine's Catholicism (I:5:6, I:7:21), this ostensible
religious bias needs to be placed within the conventions of English publishing and
religious attitudes. It is unlikely that Mary Shelley herself subscribes to them.
Indeed, if in this chapter one reads in the attitudes of Turks to women some sense
of reflection on contemporary English attitudes, then, Mary Shelley would appear to
be playing something of her mother's game. And the mother-daughter relationship here
certainly testifies to that which Mary Shelley derived from the frequent perusal of
her mother's writings, an inculcation of ideals of independence on which, like, Safie
she was not afraid to act.

In contrast to Victor, who through his intellectual obsession at Ingolstadt virtually
sequestered himself from both family and associates, the Creature, born into a natural
humanity, feels oppressed by his solitude.

Victor will exactly echo this language at the very end of Volume 2 (Chapter 17 in
the 1831 edition), in II:9:23.

As he is superior to other human beings in stature and endurance, and finely tuned
both emotionally and intellectually, perhaps we should not be surprised at the sublimity
of the Creature's emotional outburst. Or, at least we should be no more surprised
than we are at the inarticulate ranting of Victor Frankenstein when they meet on the
Mer de Glace (II:2:6) or at the fury of Felix De Lacey (II:7:38), both of whom are
the products of cultivated families and refined educations.

There is a qualitative difference between this sense of injustice and what the Creature
has felt earlier. Here, after doing a good deed, he has been been judged undesirable
in a preemptive manner and physically punished. Thus, what festers mentally as well
as physically is that a simple action to save a life has been met with a violent,
life-threatening reaction from the larger society of human beings. He feels no longer
merely rejected by this world but actively menaced.

The Creature and Safie alike bemoan the conquering of native Americans of both the
Northern and Southern hemispheres by the various European imperial powers, who in
many cases reduced the natives to a condition of slavery. The Creature's emotional
identification with their fate is unself-conscious at this point, but the progress
of his education is leading him to understand an fundamental similarity with their
abjectness (see, for instance, II:9:5 and note).

The Creature once again echoes the opening soliloquy of Byron's Manfred (1817) (see
II:5:18 for the earlier instance).

The Creature, who appears to educate himself by a process of progressive binary distinctions,
here broaches his master categories, nature and humanity, both of them, given the
season of his birth and the shock of his first human encounters, seemingly inhospitable
to him.

Although Victor cannot know yet what is fully involved in his philosophical opinings,
the questions of what constitutes human identity and how humans may be free will turn
out to be major concerns of this second volume of the novel. As with the previous
sentence, Victor is here in the process of unconsciously setting the stage for a major
development in his education.