Frankenstein

Agatha De Lacey is the daughter of the blind old man De Lacey and the sister of Felix. Before the family's downfall, she was well-regarded among the elite in Paris. However, by the time the Creature observes her, she lives in a state of poverty in a secluded cottage, sharing in the family's collective sorrow and hard work. The Creature learns her name—“sister” or “Agatha”—as some of the first words he masters, and she becomes one of the three figures he admires most. He affectionately refers to her as “the gentle Agatha” and later remembers “the gentle eyes of Agatha,” even in his moments of anger. Agatha is portrayed consistently as gentle, sorrowful, and devoted to her family; she listens to her father's encouragement with tears she attempts to conceal, and her spirits visibly brighten after he uplifts her. When Safie arrives, Agatha greets her warmly and helps connect the newcomer with the family. The tension in the story peaks when she is the first to faint upon seeing the Creature confront her father, leading to the family’s flight, after which they are never seen again. Agatha’s absence, along with that of the rest of the De Laceys, plunges the Creature into his first experience of hatred and revenge.

Alphonse Frankenstein is Victor's father, coming from a well-to-do family in Geneva known for their roles as counselors and syndics. In his younger years, he focused on public service and married later in life after rescuing Caroline Beaufort, the orphaned daughter of a close friend, from a life of poverty. The novel depicts him as a man of integrity and kindness, deeply devoted to his family.

Throughout the story, Alphonse serves as the moral and emotional backbone of the Frankenstein family. He watches Victor's deterioration with concern and attempts to guide him, relying on the wisdom from "his serene conscience and guiltless life." Alphonse encourages Victor to marry Elizabeth, viewing it as "the tie of our domestic comfort and the stay of my declining years." He even travels to Ireland when Victor is imprisoned, providing support during a crucial time. Unbeknownst to him, the truth about the creature is concealed, and Victor's silence leads Alphonse to misread his son's deep self-blame as signs of madness. By the end of the novel, Alphonse has died, and Victor visits his grave in Chapter 24 along with those of William and Elizabeth—a heartbreaking reminder of the destruction Victor's creation has wrought upon his family.

De Lacey is the blind, elderly head of the De Lacey family, and his cottage serves as the creature's school and refuge during the creature's extended secret observation. Once a wealthy and respected man in Paris, De Lacey lost everything and was exiled from France after his son Felix helped a Turkish merchant escape wrongful imprisonment—an act of compassion that cost the family their fortune and homeland. By the time the creature meets him, De Lacey lives in a modest rural cottage with Felix and Agatha, relying on his children while still maintaining a quiet dignity and warmth. Being blind, he is the only family member the creature feels comfortable approaching directly. During their brief conversation, De Lacey treats the creature with simple kindness, offering whatever hospitality he can. The creature later thinks that their talk genuinely "interested the father in my behalf," making De Lacey the only human who comes close to accepting him without fear. However, the encounter ends badly: when Felix returns and attacks the creature, De Lacey's life is put "in the greatest danger," forcing the family to abandon the cottage for good. Thus, De Lacey embodies both the closest connection the creature has to humanity and the fragility of that hope—a figure of gentle compassion whose blindness, both literal and symbolic, allows him to see the creature without bias, if only for a moment.

Elizabeth Lavenza is Victor Frankenstein's adopted cousin, childhood friend, and later his wife. Her life revolves around her ties to the Frankenstein family and ultimately comes to a tragic end due to the creature created by Victor. Orphaned as an infant—her father, a nobleman from Milan, either imprisoned or deceased, and her mother dying during childbirth—she is taken in by Victor's mother and presented to the young Victor almost like a gift. From that moment on, she is seen as "mine to protect, love, and cherish," a framing that shapes her role throughout the story.

Elizabeth is known for her beauty, gentleness, and moral strength. While Victor is consumed by an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, she finds joy in poetry and the beauty of nature, her "saintly soul" said to uplift those around her. However, she is not simply passive: she publicly speaks at Justine's trial, risking her own safety, cares for the dying, and writes candid letters to Victor urging him to return. Following the murder of William and Justine's execution, she experiences a profound shift in spirit, admitting that she can no longer view the world as she once did.

Her journey transitions from a joyful childhood companion to a woman burdened by sorrow and dread. She is killed by the creature on her wedding night, strangled in the bridal chamber while Victor frantically searches the corridors outside. Her death becomes the final, irrevocable disaster that propels Victor into his obsessive quest for the creature.

Ernest Frankenstein is Victor's brother and a minor but recurring character. When Elizabeth writes to Victor, Ernest is sixteen, brimming with energy, and prefers outdoor activities like climbing hills and rowing on the lake over studying, which he considers "an odious fetter." He dreams of entering foreign service, a plan his uncle disapproves of, and Elizabeth fears this could lead him to idleness if they don't relent and allow him to pursue his chosen profession. He stands in stark contrast to the scholarly Victor.

Ernest's role becomes more significant after William's murder. He is the first to notice William is missing on the night of the incident, having played with him just before. At their family home, he is the first to greet Victor upon his return, crying openly and sharing the news that Justine Moritz has been accused. He inadvertently brings the topic up again when Alphonse arrives, stating that Victor claims to know the true murderer.

In the tragic conclusion of the novel, Ernest is the only surviving Frankenstein sibling. Upon returning after Elizabeth's murder, Victor learns that "my father and Ernest yet lived," although Alphonse soon succumbs to his grief. Thus, Ernest outlives all other immediate family members and becomes a quiet symbol of ordinary, uncursed life.

Felix De Lacey is the son of the blind old man De Lacey and the brother of Agatha. The creature secretly observes and idolizes Felix’s family from a nearby hovel. He is the most active and, in the creature's view, the most sorrowful member of the household. Despite this, he keeps a cheerful tone for his father's sake, all while carrying a heavy personal sadness. The creature eventually discovers that this sadness stems from a selfless act: Felix risked everything to save a Turkish merchant who had been wrongfully imprisoned in Paris. Unfortunately, this led to his father and sister being imprisoned in retaliation, resulting in the family's loss of wealth and exile, while the merchant betrayed Felix. The arrival of Safie, the merchant's daughter whom Felix loves, brings a brief moment of joy to his life. Felix also becomes Safie's teacher, reading from Volney's Ruins of Empires and explaining it thoroughly—lessons the creature overhears and uses to learn about human history and society. When the creature finally reveals itself to old De Lacey, Felix returns to find it clinging to his father's knees. In a fit of rage, he pulls the creature away and beats it with a stick. He then leaves the cottage for good, informing the landlord that his father's life is in danger and that his wife and sister will never recover from the trauma. This departure shatters the creature's last hope for human connection and directly leads to its desire for revenge.

Henry Clerval is Victor Frankenstein's oldest and closest friend, a fellow Genevan whose warmth, creativity, and moral kindness constantly provide a striking contrast to Victor's obsessive and guilt-ridden nature. The son of a Geneva merchant, Henry has long desired a liberal education, but his father—a narrow-minded trader who viewed his son's aspirations as idleness and a path to ruin—was initially hesitant to allow it. Eventually, his father's love for him overcame his aversion to learning, and Henry is allowed to travel to Ingolstadt, arriving just as Victor collapses after creating the creature. He cares for Victor through months of fever, concealing the seriousness of the illness from the Frankenstein family to spare them distress. Later, with help from Elizabeth and Alphonse, he accompanies Victor on a journey through Germany, the Rhine, Britain, and Scotland, embodying the joy and wonder that Victor can no longer feel. His plans to support European colonization and trade in India reflect a purposeful ambition that sharply contrasts with Victor's inner turmoil. Tragically, Victor finds Henry's lifeless form, and his death becomes one of the many losses that Victor harshly blames himself for, considering himself the murderer of William, Justine, and Clerval. Even as Victor frantically pursues the creature, Henry appears in his dreams as a symbol of lost happiness and youth.

Justine Moritz is a servant in the Frankenstein household, and her brief but tragic story reveals the novel's profound concerns about justice, innocence, and guilt. Taken in by Madame Frankenstein at the age of twelve due to her mother’s mistreatment, Justine received an education beyond that of a typical servant and grew deeply devoted to her benefactress, even imitating her manners and speech. Elizabeth describes her as "the most amiable and benevolent of human creatures," while Victor remembers how a single glance from her could lift his spirits.

When William Frankenstein is murdered and a miniature portrait of his mother is discovered in Justine's pocket, she is arrested, tried, and condemned. The circumstantial evidence is compelling enough to influence the court, and her bewildered behavior during the murder investigation only heightens suspicion. Importantly, her confessor pressures her into a false confession by threatening her with excommunication, leading to her execution as a convicted murderer. In prison, she takes back her confession, stating, "I did confess, but I confessed a lie," and faces her impending death with remarkable calm and Christian resignation.

Victor knows she is innocent — he understands that the creature is the true murderer — but he cannot reveal this without being thought of as insane. Justine thus becomes the first of what Victor refers to as his "hapless victims," and her death continues to haunt him throughout the novel, serving as a reminder of the devastation his ambition has wrought.

Margaret Saville is Robert Walton's sister and the silent recipient of every letter that frames the novel's outer narrative. She never speaks for herself; instead, she exists solely through Walton's communications with her, yet her presence influences all of his correspondence. Walton writes to her from St. Petersburg, from Archangel, from the Arctic ice, and finally from the moment just after Victor Frankenstein's death—making her the one constant witness to his journey and the extraordinary story he's encountered. She is described as having "a husband and lovely children," and Walton's letters reveal that she viewed his polar expedition "with such evil forebodings" from the very beginning. Her imagined reactions—her anxiety, her potential despair, her hoped-for happiness—serve as a moral counterbalance to Walton's ambition: when he is trapped in the ice, he admits that the thought of her "sickening failing of your heart-felt expectations is, in prospect, more terrible to me than my own death." Although she never acts or makes decisions, Margaret functions as the novel's implied reader, offering a domestic and humane perspective against which Walton's dangerous idealism is measured.

Mr. Kirwin is an Irish magistrate who plays a brief yet significant role in Victor Frankenstein's troubles while in Ireland. While Kirwin initially views Victor with the necessary suspicion of his position, he displays notable humanity: he arranges for Victor to have the best available room in prison, ensures a physician and nurse are provided during Victor's two-month fever, writes to Geneva to update Victor's family, and ultimately takes charge of gathering witnesses and organizing Victor's defense at the assizes. His compassion is tempered by a professional caution—he visits infrequently, not wanting to witness the outbursts of someone he still suspects might be a murderer—yet when he does come to Victor's bedside, his demeanor reflects "sympathy and compassion." He speaks to Victor in French, showcasing both his language skills and sensitivity. When the grand jury dismisses the case due to Victor's alibi, Kirwin's careful preparation of the defense plays a key role in the acquittal. He may be a minor character, but he holds moral significance as a representation of institutional authority that, in this instance, leans toward mercy.

Professor Waldman serves as Victor Frankenstein's chemistry professor at the University of Ingolstadt, playing a crucial role in the novel despite having limited appearances. Introduced in Chapter 3 alongside M. Krempe, Waldman's first lecture becomes a pivotal moment that shapes Victor's intellectual journey. While Krempe is depicted as squat, gruff, and unpleasant, Waldman is portrayed as around fifty years old, exuding "the greatest benevolence," with an upright posture and "the sweetest" voice Victor has ever encountered. His enthusiastic praise for modern chemistry—claiming that its practitioners "have acquired new and almost unlimited powers" and can "command the thunders of heaven"—sparks a burning ambition in Victor that propels the narrative forward. In private, Waldman is just as engaging: he respects Victor's youthful fascination with alchemists instead of ridiculing it, invites him into his laboratory, and becomes "a true friend" in Victor's eyes. His kindness, honesty, and lack of pretension make him an ideal mentor. However, by Chapter 6, Waldman's well-meaning praise of Victor's scientific achievements unwittingly torments Victor, who has been devastated by the fallout from his creation—a painful irony that highlights how the professor's encouragement set disaster into motion.

Robert Walton is an English Arctic explorer and the narrator of the novel, whose letters to his sister Margaret Saville frame the book. Writing from St. Petersburgh, Archangel, and later from his ship trapped in polar ice, he shares both his ambitions and the remarkable tale he hears from Victor Frankenstein. Walton has spent six years preparing for his expedition through intense self-education — sailing with whalers, studying mathematics and medicine, and reading accounts of voyages — driven by a childhood love for the sea that his dying father had forbidden him to chase. He is idealistic, emotionally seeking a kindred spirit, and exhibits the same reckless enthusiasm he will later see in Victor. When his crew finds the nearly frozen Victor in the ice, Walton becomes his attentive listener, transcribing Victor's story each night in the stranger's own words. He is deeply touched by Victor's eloquence and suffering, but he also faces his own moral dilemma: when the ice holds his ship captive and the crew insists on heading south, he must decide between his overwhelming ambition and the safety of his men. Ultimately, he gives in and orders a retreat. In the novel's last scene, after Victor dies holding his hand, Walton comes face to face with the Creature mourning over the body — a confrontation that wraps up the frame and leaves Walton, and the reader, with the heavy burden of the story's tragedy.

Safie is an Arabian woman who arrives at the De Lacey cottage to reunite with Felix, the man she loves. Her arrival changes the atmosphere of the household, lifting the sadness that had hung over it and bringing joy to everyone there. She is the daughter of a Turkish merchant, whose wrongful imprisonment in Paris triggered a series of events: Felix risked everything to free him, partly due to his affection for Safie, and in return, the Turk promised her hand in marriage. When her father later betrayed Felix and ordered Safie to return to Turkey, she stood her ground, taking her jewels and money to travel independently to Germany in search of her lover.

Safie's character is significantly influenced by her mother, a Christian Arab who instilled in her the value of intellectual independence and the importance of resisting the confines of a harem. These teachings made Safie "sickened at the prospect of again returning to Asia," and her resolve to stay in a place where women could "take a rank in society" fuels her brave journey. At the cottage, she is "always gay and happy," plays the guitar with a voice "like a nightingale of the woods," and learns the language alongside the Creature, who benefits from the same lessons that Felix provides her. Her letters, kept by the Creature and later shown to Walton, act as documentary evidence supporting the entire story. When the Creature finally reveals himself to the De Laceys, Safie runs from the cottage in fear.

The Creature is the being created and brought to life by Victor Frankenstein, and he narrates his own story throughout the central chapters of the novel. He begins as a voiceless, confused infant — rejected the moment his yellow eyes open — and ends as a self-loathing figure pledging to end his own life on a funeral pyre at the world’s edge. His journey takes him from innocent curiosity to deep despair, driven at every turn by an overwhelming need for companionship and acknowledgment that he is constantly denied.

His character is marked by a painful duality: he can show deep kindness — crying at Safie’s music, secretly collecting firewood for the De Laceys, rescuing a girl from drowning — but he is also capable of cold cruelty when his kindness is met with violence and rejection. He learns through watching others and reading stolen books, developing complex moral and philosophical thoughts, only to find that knowledge increases his suffering. He perceives himself both as Adam, innocent and newly created, and as Satan, rejected and bitter. His actions — the murders of William and Clerval, the framing of Justine, and the death of Elizabeth — are portrayed not as the deeds of an inherently evil being but as the results of neglect, isolation, and the consistent refusal of every person he encounters to look beyond his appearance. By the end of the novel, he genuinely mourns for Victor, judging himself more harshly than any judge could.

Victor Frankenstein is the central figure in the novel. Hailing from Geneva, his obsessive quest to uncover the secret of life leads him to create a living being, a decision that ultimately results in the loss of nearly everyone he loves. He recounts his tale to Robert Walton, framing it as a warning. Victor's character is defined by extremes; he possesses an intense intellectual ambition that disregards moral implications, and he grapples with profound guilt and self-torment as he confronts the consequences of his actions. His path transforms him from a beloved, talented child to a man consumed by scientific obsession, followed by the horror of his creation, culminating in a downward spiral where William, Justine, Henry Clerval, Elizabeth, and his father all perish due to his choices. He struggles to make his confession public and ultimately pursues the creature to the Arctic in a quest for revenge, tracking it across Europe and into the frigid north until Walton's ship saves him. Throughout his journey, he swings between accepting responsibility—calling himself the "true murderer" of William and Justine—and retreating into illness, passivity, and silence. He dies on Walton's ship, still convinced that the creature must be destroyed, yet he is free of hatred and urges Walton to seek peace.

William Frankenstein is Victor's youngest brother and the creature's first victim. William never speaks, and the reader never sees him alive; his significance is entirely conveyed through what others say about him. His murder on the evening of May 7, in the fields of Plainpalais near Geneva, leads to the wrongful accusation and execution of Justine Moritz, deepens Victor's guilt and horror, and marks the beginning of the long list of destruction that Victor attributes to his own "unhallowed arts." Even as the story shifts far from Geneva, William's name remains a symbol of sorrow: Victor cries it out in the storm at Plainpalais, mentions it during feverish rants, and ultimately invokes it while making a deathbed promise to Walton. Thus, William serves more as a symbol of lost innocence — the human cost of Victor's ambition laid bare and irrevocable.

Ambition drives both Walton and Victor towards their downfall, and the novel illustrates it as a force that eventually consumes those who wield it. In Letter 1, Walton describes the Arctic as "the region of beauty and delight," and by Letter 3, he asks, "What can stop the determined heart and resolved will of man?" This rhetoric mirrors Victor's own early arrogance. In Chapter 3, when Waldman praises modern science's power to "command the thunders of heaven," Victor's spirit responds with a vow to "pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation." However, Chapter 4 shows the price of this ambition: Victor's eyes are "starting from their sockets" in his "workshop of filthy creation," and his health is shattered by obsession. He even directly warns the reader that "how dangerous is the acquirement of knowledge." By Chapter 19, he compares himself to "a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul," depicting a man crushed by the very lightning-like inspiration that once thrilled him. Near the end of the novel comes Victor's dying counsel to Walton: "Seek happiness in tranquillity and avoid ambition, even if it be only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in science and discoveries" — a judgment that, in hindsight, condemns every grand aspiration presented in the story.

Knowledge throughout the novel is portrayed as both alluring and perilous. In Chapter 2, Victor refers to the world as "a secret which I desired to divine," and his chance encounter with Agrippa propels him down a path that his father's disapproval only hastens. The crucial lecture by Waldman in Chapter 3 — where he extols the ability of science to "command the thunders of heaven" — marks the moment Victor's fate is irrevocably determined. The creature's education in Chapters 11–13 represents the most in-depth exploration of this theme: he learns language through observation, acquires history and philosophy via Volney's Ruins of Empires, and realizes that knowledge is akin to "a lichen on the rock" — it "clings to the mind when it has once seized on it." However, this knowledge brings with it suffering: "Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to the mind," he remarks, and Chapter 13 details his torment, recognizing that awareness only heightens sorrow. His reading of Paradise Lost in Chapter 15 as a true account provides him with a lens through which to view his own plight, intensifying rather than alleviating his anguish. Victor's final words to Walton underscore the novel's message: "Seek happiness in tranquillity and avoid ambition, even if it be only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in science and discoveries."

The novel challenges the idea of simply categorizing characters as good or evil, instead focusing on the circumstances that shape each character. The creature expresses this clearly in Chapter 10: "I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous." By Chapter 17, he expands on this notion: "I am malicious because I am miserable. Am I not shunned and hated by all mankind?" This suggests that evil emerges from social conditions rather than being an inherent trait. On the other hand, Victor is consistently linked to transgression; in Chapter 7, he describes the creature as "my own vampire, my own spirit let loose from the grave," admitting that his act of creation has unleashed a darker side of himself. Chapter 16 depicts the creature in a demonic light — burning the cottage and dancing with a flaming branch — but it also reveals the series of rejections and violence that led him to this point. In Chapter 15, he identifies with Satan as "the fitter emblem of my condition," but this is only because he has been denied the happiness he deserves. Justine's false confession in Chapter 8 — "I confessed a lie ... but now that falsehood lies heavier at my heart" — illustrates how institutional power (the confessor's threat of excommunication) can force an innocent person into a position of perceived guilt, further blurring the lines between good and evil.

During Justine's trial, he describes his experience as "living torture," fully aware that the creature is the real murderer but unable to speak the truth: "the fangs of remorse tore my bosom and would not forgo their hold." When Justine confesses, she admits that "falsehood lies heavier at my heart than all my other sins," having told a lie to seek absolution. The chapter ends with his painful realization that William and Justine are "the first hapless victims to my unhallowed arts." In Chapter 9, Elizabeth's comments about justice unraveling only deepen his anguish because he knows he is the true culprit she cannot identify. By Chapter 21, the guilt reaches its peak: upon finding Clerval's strangled body, Victor cries out that his "murderous machinations" have claimed the life of his closest friend, and in his fever, he deliriously takes responsibility for William, Justine, and Clerval. Even in Chapter 24, on his deathbed, he struggles to release this burden, telling Walton that the creature must still be destroyed — guilt and the desire for atonement remaining intertwined until the very end.

The creature's inner journey centers on a quest for identity that the world consistently denies him. In Chapter 12, when he sees his reflection in a pool, he comes to a grim realization: "when I became fully convinced that I was in reality the monster that I am, I was filled with the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification." Chapter 13 deepens this turmoil with the question: "Was I, then, a monster, a blot upon the earth, from which all men fled and whom all men disowned?" In Chapter 10, he tells Victor he should be his Adam, but instead he feels like "the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed," and in Chapter 15, he often thinks of Satan as "the fitter emblem of my condition." His very origins make it impossible for him to establish a stable identity; in Chapter 15, he mourns, "Hateful day when I received life! Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?" By Chapter 24, he has combined these conflicting feelings into a single, heart-wrenching self-description: "I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on." His final act — vowing to burn himself to ashes — symbolizes the ultimate rejection of an identity imposed on him without his consent.

Loneliness runs deep throughout the novel. Walton begins Letter 2 with a candid admission: "I have no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of success, there will be none to participate my joy." His longing for a kindred spirit drives the narrative. Victor's isolation, though self-inflicted, feels just as real. In Chapter 4, he turns his back on nature, neglects his friends, and fails to write home. By Chapter 18, he describes himself as "a miserable wretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to enjoyment." The creature embodies the profound loneliness in the story. As he watches the De Lacey family from behind the wall of his hovel in Chapters 11–13, he feels a mix of "pain and pleasure" — he can see their warmth but remains forever excluded from it. In Chapter 13, he mourns the lack of familial bonds — father, mother, siblings — that he can name but never truly own. His request for a female companion in Chapter 17 arises entirely from this feeling of emptiness: "I am malicious because I am miserable. Am I not shunned and hated by all mankind?" Even in his last speech in Chapter 24, this loneliness is clear as he mourns over Victor's corpse, the one person whose existence gave his own life any meaningful connection.

Revenge traps Victor and the creature in a damaging cycle, each one intensifying the other's hatred. The creature first reveals this desire in Chapter 16, declaring "everlasting war" against humanity after Felix turns him away. When the boy discloses his identity as a Frankenstein, the creature ominously states, "you shall be my first victim." In Chapter 20, his chilling warning — "I shall be with you on your wedding-night" — transforms revenge into an impending threat, culminating in Elizabeth's murder in Chapter 23. Victor's response mirrors that of the creature: after his father's death in Chapter 23, he becomes consumed by a desire for revenge, telling the magistrate that this quest is "the devouring and only passion of my soul." Chapter 24 shows both characters engaged in a relentless pursuit across Europe and into the Arctic, each sustaining the other's existence through their shared animosity. The creature leaves taunting messages on trees and stones to keep Victor driven, while Victor continues his relentless chase despite his declining health. On his deathbed, Victor no longer feels intense hatred but still insists that the creature must die — suggesting that revenge, even when consciously rejected, has already exacted a heavy toll on everything it affected.

Memory in Frankenstein often brings torment instead of comfort. In Chapter 2, Victor links his intellectual decline to a significant childhood moment—discovering Cornelius Agrippa—and remarks that his curiosity, "swelling as it proceeded," became "the torrent which, in its course, has swept away all my hopes and joys." The creature also grapples with painful memories; in Chapter 15, he reads Victor's journal about the four months leading up to his creation, and learning about his own horrific origins deeply distresses him. Yet, in Chapter 12, he briefly escapes the burden of memory—"the past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil, and the future gilded by bright rays of hope"—making the contrast with his usual state all the more striking. Victor, in Chapter 21, cannot escape memory even in a fevered state, obsessively mentioning William, Justine, and Clerval. After Elizabeth's murder in Chapter 23, he crawls to her body and weeps, while the creature's ominous threat—"I shall be with you on your wedding-night"—lingers through Chapters 20 and 22, tainting every moment that should be filled with joy. The entire novel unfolds as a retrospective narration, with memory judging ambition.