In this paragraph the Creature skillfully assembles the conclusions to be abstracted
from his treatment by the cottagers, touching on each of the themes so woven through
the fabric of his discourse.

It is a remarkable achievement of Mary Shelley's that by this point in the Creature's
narrative, this word (and its derivatives) have become fully ironized. Continually
repeated as it is (see, for instance, II:7:2 and II:7:9), this Enlightenment concept
stands in a kind of verbal isolation, unsupported by any examples that might convince
us of its dynamic, positive value, or even (outside the Creature's own actions) that
active benevolence exists. Thus the Creature's ironic conclusion seems altogether
appropriate.

It is fair to say that Victor's intentions almost always outstrip his ability to realize
them.

Victor unconsciously repeats the neutral language with which the Creature concludes
his narrative ("This being you must create"). Within a few paragraphs, however, he
will return to his usual store of epithets.

The language here has embarrassed some readers, but perhaps it is intended to be an
embarrassment, all hot air and vaunting, ineffectual before the power that animates
the eight-foot Creature.

As the month is December, the sun in this fairly northern latitude would rise relatively
late, at some time around 8 a.m.

We have no comparable description of Elizabeth Lavenza from Victor, whose appreciation
of her virtues overshadows the few physical details he gives of her upon his return
to his family at the end of of the first volume (I:6:40). In the unself-conscious
innocence of the Creature, in contrast, not only do we realize that he has a nuanced
appreciation for the beautiful, but we also comprehend that strong romantic desire—not
a subject in which Victor seems particularly adept—is an aspect of his makeup, perhaps
to be considered normal for a human being, but in the Creature's circumstances deeply
problematical. Mary Shelley's delicate handling of the Creature's awakening to desire
is an index of the complexity with which she endows his character.

The beautiful, in this formulation, would seem to be a characteristic understood only
within a human context. That is to say, until the Creature can identify himself with
human concerns and human emotions, he cannot distinguish the beautiful. The corollary
of this, however, may not be so honorific to humanity. The birds with whom the creature
first identified in paragraph four above seem wholly unconcerned with the sublime;
but all humans are terrified of it and flee.

The language once again affirms the Creature's affinity with nature and natural forces:
his atavistic rage is a sublime emotional storm. Yet, we should recall, the same is
true of that of the exemplary polished gentleman, Felix, at the end of the previous
chapter (II:7:38).

Victor stands below the Aiguille du Dru (12,320 feet).

From Walter Woodburn Hyde, "The Ascent of Mont Blanc," in National Geographic, 24:8
(1913), 861-942.