Children's books on the subject of Robin Hood are common in the first two decades
of the nineteenth century in England, and songs from Leonard MacNally's comic opera,
dating from 1784, were likewise current. But the outlaw of Sherwood Forest, with his
libertarian and populist associations, also retains a political connotation for Mary
Shelley's culture, particularly in the representation of the eccentric antiquarian
Joseph Ritson (1752-1803), whose Robin Hood; a collection of all the ancient poems,
songs, and ballads now extant, relative to that celebrated English outlaw: to which
are prefixed, historical anecdotes of his life was first published in 1795.

Whether intentionally or from her inexperience as a writer of fiction, this is the
only occasion in the entire novel where Mary Shelley fully names Walton. The first
letter he signs "R. Walton: and the third, indicating its hasty composition at sea
to take advantage of encountering a ship on its return to England, is simply initialed
"R. W." Thereafter, he does not name himself, and Victor, following the English convention
of the day, always calls him by his surname.

One must remember that this is a long journey by the normal standards of the day and
that parts of it skirted or crossed mountainous terrain.

The principal river of Lucerne, flowing out of its lake. The Shelleys visited Lake
Lucerne and descended through the rapids of the Reuss in September 1814. Mary's account
of that trip is contained in A History of a Six Weeks' Tour.

Victor's life, as he narrates its events, is full of good intentions, roads not taken,
and fatal postponements. A more disinterested observer might attribute all of these
elements to a slippery sense of personal responsibility on Victor's part.

This long passage, almost a tirade, was omitted from the third and later editions.
It is one of the clear occasions where Mary Shelley reveals herself as her father's
daughter, justifying the Quarterly Review's attack on her novel for its Godwinian
politics. For Godwin's treatment of retribution, see Political Justice, Book VII ("Of
Crimes and Punishments"), particularly Chapter 4, "Of the Application of Coercion."

Victor uses the same diction in thanking Walton for rescuing him: "You have benevolently
restored me to life" (I:L4:18 and note).

Even as he honors Alphonse Frankenstein, Victor does so in terms that distance his
father into something of an icon for the principle of patriarchy itself.

As understandable as this resolve is (and, perhaps more important to the reader, as
necessary to the plot line as it may be), still Victor's silence is fundamentally
problematical on moral grounds, constituting a denial of his own responsibility and,
through an absence of candor on both private and public levels, a failure of essential
human sympathy and justice.

As with "courage," the martial virtue to which Mary Shelley here yokes "resolution,"
this word also evokes the characteristic diction of Milton's Satan. In arising to
call his forces to assemble, he marks his agenda:

     how we may henceforth most offend
Our enemy, our own loss how repair,
How overcome this dire calamity,
What reinforcement we may gain from hope,
If not what resolution from despair.
-- I.187-191

When Satan ends the assembly by having his fallen legions endorse his plans to corrupt
the garden of Eden, Milton's language emphasizes the force of his resolution.

          Thus saying, rose
The Monarch, and prevented all reply;
Prudent, lest from his resolution raised,
Others among the chief might offer now,
Certain to be refused, what first they feared.
-- II.466-470