Chapter 17 — Teaching Companion

What it asks It asks the student to weigh the reasons in Victor’s first refusal. The demand finds him “bewildered, perplexed”, and the last part of the tale has “kindled anew” his anger. He refuses with a vow: “no torture shall ever extort a consent from me.” He gives two reasons in four lines. One is about himself: he may be made “the most miserable of men” but never “base in my own eyes”. The other is about the world: a second being “whose joint wickedness might desolate the world”. The student decides whose good the refusal mainly protects. By sunset he has consented, so the card should leave open whether those reasons held.

One reading

His own. The sentence ranks two harms and chooses between them: misery he can bear, baseness he cannot. The refusal guards his picture of himself as a man who will not do a vile thing, whatever it costs him. The torture he dares the creature to inflict is a test he expects to pass.

• You may render me the most miserable of men, but you shall never make me base in my own eyes.
• and no torture shall ever extort a consent from me.

Another reading

The world’s. What would make the act base is what it would let loose: a pair “whose joint wickedness might desolate the world”. His anger comes back at the latter part of the tale, after the cottagers, and later he names the “malice” already shown. On this reading “my own eyes” is a conscience looking outward, at the people a second being could hurt.

• Shall I create another like yourself, whose joint wickedness might desolate the world.
• The latter part of his tale had kindled anew in me the anger that had died away while he narrated his peaceful life among the cottagers,

Listen for

• Notices “in my own eyes”: the judge of baseness is Victor himself, not God, his family or the law.
• Notices that his anger had died away during the story of the cottagers and flared again at the end of the tale, so the refusal follows the order of the telling.
• Notices that the creature answers “You are in the wrong”, a reply about right, not about danger.
• Keeps in view that he consents before sunset, and asks whether that makes him base in his own eyes, without settling it.

If stuck

• What does Victor say no torture will ever get from him?
• What two things does he say a yes would do, one to him and one to the world?
• Which of the two would he find harder to live with, and why?

A strong answer A strong response names whose good comes first and grounds it. One reader says Victor is guarding himself: he will take being “the most miserable of men” before being “base in my own eyes”, so the refusal protects his self-respect. Another says he is guarding the world from a pair “whose joint wickedness might desolate the world”, and that baseness means letting that loose. The best answers notice that the judge is Victor’s own eyes, and keep that judge in mind when he says yes.

What it asks It asks the student to account for a concession inside an argument. In his first long answer the creature says that if man would “live with me in the interchange of kindness”, he would repay him with “every benefit”. Then he stops himself: “But that cannot be; the human senses are insurmountable barriers to our union.” He does not say that men are cruel. He says the senses forbid it. The student decides what the admission does for his case. Victor’s own senses come into play later in the chapter, and the card should let the student find that link rather than announce it.

One reading

It is the ground of the demand. If the human senses will always bar him, no human can be his companion, and only a being like him can. The admission is the first step of the argument, not a slip in it. It turns a wish into a need that Victor alone can meet.

• But that cannot be; the human senses are insurmountable barriers to our union.
• This you alone can do, and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse to concede.

Another reading

It is a charge, and a warning. If the senses are the barrier, the fault lies in his form, and his form is “the work of your own hands”. Nothing he does can win men over, so he will not try: in the next breath, “if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear”. The admission clears his heart and readies the threat.

• You would not call it murder if you could precipitate me into one of those ice-rifts and destroy my frame, the work of your own hands.
• if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear,

Listen for

• Notices that he blames the senses, not human cruelty, for what keeps him apart.
• Notices what comes right after the admission: “Yet mine shall not be the submission of abject slavery”, and then the threat.
• Connects the line with Victor later on, who pities the creature while he listens and is sickened “when I looked upon him”.
• Notices “union”: he asks for more than to be left alone.

If stuck

• What does he say he would give man, if man would live with him in kindness?
• What does he say stands in the way?
• If the barrier is in the senses, whose fault is it, and what is left for him to ask?

A strong answer A strong response gives the admission a purpose and grounds it. One reader says it is the ground of the demand: if no human can get past the senses, only a being like him can, and “This you alone can do”. Another says it is a charge: the barrier is his form, “the work of your own hands”, and the threat that follows rests on it. The best answers notice that Victor’s own senses later bear the line out, when pity while listening turns to horror when he looks.

What it asks It asks the student to weigh one word in the creature’s calm speech. Victor has just been moved, and the creature “saw my change of feeling”. He describes the exile he offers: no one will “ever see us again”; he lives on “acorns and berries” and kills nothing “to glut my appetite”; they will make their bed of “dried leaves”, and “the sun will shine on us as on man”. Then he names it: “The picture I present to you is peaceful and human”, and adds that Victor could deny it “only in the wantonness of power and cruelty”. A few lines before, he said “we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world”. The student looks for what in the picture is human, and decides whether the word belongs to the life he describes or to his persuading. The card should not settle whether the picture is sincere: Victor’s doubt, “May not even this be a feint”, is left standing.

One reading

Much of it. Human, for him, names a way of living, not a shape. He will not kill to eat, the sun will shine on them “as on man”, and two beings will keep each other company. The life is human in all but looks, and gentler than man’s. The word claims the place the human senses have shut him out of.

• My food is not that of man; I do not destroy the lamb and the kid to glut my appetite; acorns and berries afford me sufficient nourishment.
• the sun will shine on us as on man and will ripen our food.

Another reading

Little but the word, and the word is aimed at Victor. The life has no people in it. The creature has seen “compassion in your eyes” and says outright that he means to persuade. Calling the picture human makes a refusal inhuman: Victor could deny it only out of “power and cruelty”. The word works on the listener, a few lines after he admitted that they will be “monsters”.

• and you must feel that you could deny it only in the wantonness of power and cruelty.
• I now see compassion in your eyes; let me seize the favourable moment and persuade you to promise what I so ardently desire.

Listen for

• Notices “as on man”: the sun makes no difference between them and people.
• Sets “human” beside “we shall be monsters” a few lines before, and asks whether the creature has changed his mind or only his aim.
• Notices that he tells Victor he is persuading him: “let me seize the favourable moment and persuade you”.
• Hears Victor’s answer to the picture: a being who longs “for the love and sympathy of man” will not stay away. Victor takes the human longing in it as the danger.

If stuck

• What will they eat, and where will they sleep?
• What does he say Victor would have to be, to refuse such a picture?
• A few lines earlier, what did he call himself and his companion?

A strong answer A strong response finds what is human in the picture, or what is not, and grounds it. One reader says much of it is: a life that kills nothing, under a sun that shines “as on man”, is human in all but looks, and gentler than man’s. Another says little but the word, which is aimed at Victor: the creature has seen “compassion in your eyes”, says he will “seize the favourable moment”, and makes a refusal look like “the wantonness of power and cruelty”. The best answers notice that he called them “monsters” a few lines before, and that Victor answers the picture by asking how a being who longs “for the love and sympathy of man” could stay away.

What it asks It asks the student to follow a strange step in Victor’s reasoning. The creature’s words move him: he “compassionated him and sometimes felt a wish to console him”. But when he looks, his feelings are “altered to those of horror and hatred”. He tries “to stifle these sensations”, and then he thinks that “as I could not sympathise with him, I had no right to withhold from him the small portion of happiness which was yet in my power to bestow.” The student explains how a failure of feeling becomes a reason to give. The step is short and odd, and careful readers can make it mean different things.

One reading

It is a debt. A maker should be able to feel for what he made, and Victor cannot. That failure is a wrong, and since he cannot give sympathy himself, he owes the next thing: a being who can. The companion pays for the feeling he is unable to give.

• I thought that as I could not sympathise with him, I had no right to withhold from him the small portion of happiness which was yet in my power to bestow.
• did I not as his maker owe him all the portion of happiness that it was in my power to bestow?

Another reading

It is a way out. If someone else will feel for the creature, Victor never has to. The thought comes right after “I tried to stifle these sensations”, and it does that work: the need passes to a new being, and Victor keeps his distance. The bargain even promises that he will never see the creature again.

• I tried to stifle these sensations;
• If you consent, neither you nor any other human being shall ever see us again;

Listen for

• Notices the split in Victor: pity while he hears, horror “when I looked upon him”.
• Notices “small portion”: Victor sizes the gift before he grants it.
• Notices that the reasoning begins with “I tried to stifle these sensations”.
• Notices that the consent he gives later comes with a condition that keeps the creature far from him.

If stuck

• What does Victor feel while he listens, and what does he feel when he looks?
• What does he try to do with the horror?
• If he cannot give the creature sympathy himself, what is left that he can give?

A strong answer A strong response traces the step and grounds it. One reader says it is a debt: a maker who cannot feel for what he made owes the next best thing, so a companion pays for the sympathy he cannot give. Another says it is a way out: the thought follows “I tried to stifle these sensations”, and it hands the creature’s need to a new being so that Victor never has to meet it himself. The best answers notice that both readings rest on the same failure of feeling, and ask whether a gift given because one cannot love is still a kindness.

What it asks It asks the student to follow the consent home. Victor walks down through the night, weeps at the fountain, and goes on to Geneva without rest. His “haggard and wild appearance” alarms his family, but he “answered no question”. He feels “placed under a ban”, as if he “had no right to claim their sympathies” and might never again “enjoy companionship with them”. Yet he loves them “to adoration”, and it is to save them that he resolves on “my most abhorred task”. The student decides why the yes cuts him off. The chapter does not say that he tells them anything, and the card should not.

One reading

The secret does it. He cannot say what he has promised, so every question they ask is one he cannot answer. A man who must hide his work from the people he loves stands apart from them even in the same room. The task also crowds out everything else: the rest of his life passes “like a dream”.

• My haggard and wild appearance awoke intense alarm, but I answered no question, scarcely did I speak.
• The prospect of such an occupation made every other circumstance of existence pass before me like a dream, and that thought only had to me the reality of life.

Another reading

He has taken on the creature’s place. The words he uses for himself, no right to sympathy and no more companionship, are close to the creature’s words for his own life, shut out from “the chain of existence and events”. In agreeing to end one being’s solitude, Victor has begun his own.

• I felt as if I were placed under a ban—as if I had no right to claim their sympathies—as if never more might I enjoy companionship with them.
• I shall feel the affections of a sensitive being and become linked to the chain of existence and events from which I am now excluded.

Listen for

• Notices the three “as if” clauses: he does not say he is banned, only that he feels it.
• Notices “Yet even thus I loved them to adoration”: the love is still there, and the task is for them.
• Sets the ban beside the creature’s word “excluded” and his wish to be “linked to the chain of existence”.
• Keeps to the page: he answers no question, and the chapter does not say what, if anything, he tells them.

If stuck

• What does his family see when he comes in, and what does he say to them?
• What does he feel he no longer has a right to?
• Who else in this chapter has spoken of being shut out from others?

A strong answer A strong response finds the cause of the ban and grounds it. One reader says it is the secret: he “answered no question”, and a man who cannot say what he has promised stands apart even at home. Another says Victor has taken on the creature’s place: “no right to claim their sympathies” is close to the creature’s complaint, now in Victor’s mouth. The best answers notice that he loves them “to adoration” in the same breath, and that the task he dreads is the one he takes on to save them.

What it asks It asks the student to analyse the creature’s first long answer as rhetoric. He opens by setting reason against threat: “instead of threatening, I am content to reason with you.” He argues from cause (“I am malicious because I am miserable”), asks questions that answer themselves, and offers terms: if man would live with him in kindness, he would repay him “with tears of gratitude”. Then the speech turns: “I will revenge my injuries”, and it ends on “Have a care”. Rage twists his face; he calms himself and says, “I intended to reason”, and adds that Victor is “the cause of its excess”. Within minutes he is pleading again: “Oh! My creator, make me happy”. The student builds a thesis on what part the threat plays in the argument, meets the strongest objection, and revises.

One reading

A part of it: its conclusion. If misery makes him malicious, a creature kept miserable will do harm, and Victor will bear it first. The forecast “if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear” is the opening claim of cause said again. On this reading even the threat is an argument: it proves the thesis it follows.

• I am malicious because I am miserable.
• if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear, and chiefly towards you my arch-enemy, because my creator, do I swear inextinguishable hatred.

Another reading

No part; it breaks the argument. He says so himself as soon as he is calm: he meant to reason, and the passion works against him. The face Victor sees “wrinkled into contortions” is the speech failing. What moves Victor afterwards is the calm plea and the oath, and the threat is what Victor later has to weigh against them.

• I intended to reason. This passion is detrimental to me,
• A fiendish rage animated him as he said this; his face was wrinkled into contortions too horrible for human eyes to behold;

Listen for

• Notices that he names threatening first in order to set it aside: “instead of threatening”.
• Notices the stress on “you” in the apology: even as he calms, he lays the excess on Victor.
• Hears the plea that follows the calm, “Oh! My creator, make me happy”, and keeps it beside the threat: the same speaker asks for love and promises fear.
• Weighs Victor’s own words, “His power and threats were not omitted in my calculations”, as evidence of what worked.

If stuck

• What does he say he will do instead of threatening?
• What does he say he will do if he cannot inspire love?
• Does the threat follow from what he said about misery, or break away from it?

A strong answer A strong thesis gives the threat its part and argues it. A student might argue that the threat belongs inside the argument as its conclusion: “I am malicious because I am miserable” predicts harm, and “if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear” says the same thing as a warning. The strongest objection is the creature’s own: “I intended to reason”, with the rage that twists his face, marks the threat as a lapse. A good revision might say the threat is both, a lapse in manner and a premise in the logic, and might test that against Victor’s admission that “His power and threats were not omitted in my calculations”.

What it asks It asks the student to weigh the one part of the bargain that speaks for someone absent. The creature asks for “a female for me” and for “a creature of another sex, but as hideous as myself”. He tells Victor what she will be and do: she “will be of the same nature as myself and will be content with the same fare”, and together they “shall be more attached to one another”. Victor consents “on your solemn oath”, and only the creature swears. The student decides how far a promise can bind a being who has not been made. The card must not say what she would want: she exists only in his demand.

One reading

Little. A promise is something a person gives for himself. He can swear to quit Europe, but he cannot swear that she will, or that she will be content. Victor’s consent rests on the oath of one of the two, and Victor has already doubted even that one.

• I consent to your demand, on your solemn oath to quit Europe for ever,
• My companion will be of the same nature as myself and will be content with the same fare.

Another reading

Something, if what she is depends on how she is made. He asks for a being “of the same nature as myself”, and he takes it that the nature will bring the contentment. On this reading he is not speaking for her will at all. He is telling Victor how she must be made, and the promise is only as good as the making.

• What I ask of you is reasonable and moderate; I demand a creature of another sex, but as hideous as myself;
• This you alone can do,

Listen for

• Notices that she is named only by what she is for: “a female for me”, a “companion”, “another sex”.
• Notices “we shall be more attached to one another”: he speaks for her feelings as well as her food.
• Notices that Victor’s condition is the creature’s oath, and that only the creature swears.
• Keeps clear of saying what she would want; the chapter gives her no voice.

If stuck

• What does the creature say his companion will eat, and where will they live?
• Who swears the oath on which Victor consents?
• Can anyone promise how another being will feel?

A strong answer A strong thesis weighs the promise and argues it. A student might argue that it is worth little: Victor consents “on your solemn oath”, an oath that binds only the one who swears it, while she “will be content” is a forecast about a being not yet made. The strongest objection is that she would be made to the creature’s order, “of the same nature as myself”, so the promise is a claim about her making, not her will. A good revision might say the promise rests its weight on the maker, which brings the question back to what Victor owes, and to whom.

What it asks It asks the chapter’s whole question. The creature claims the companion “as a right”, and builds the claim on cause: “I am malicious because I am miserable”, and “the love of another will destroy the cause of my crimes”. Victor asks himself the same question: “did I not as his maker owe him all the portion of happiness that it was in my power to bestow?” Against it he sets the malice already shown, the danger of a second being, and his own horror when he looks. After a long pause he weighs the creature’s early “promise of virtues”, the scorn he met, and his “power and threats”, and concludes that “the justice due both to him and my fellow creatures” demands a yes. The student builds a thesis on whether a maker owes this, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not say whether Victor keeps the promise or whether the companion is made.

One reading

He owes it. Victor gave him life, and others met him with “loathing and scorn”. Victor reaches this himself after a long pause, thinking of the “promise of virtues” the creature showed at first. If misery made the malice, only company can unmake it, and only Victor can give it.

• I thought of the promise of virtues which he had displayed on the opening of his existence and the subsequent blight of all kindly feeling by the loathing and scorn which his protectors had manifested towards him.
• the love of another will destroy the cause of my crimes,

Another reading

He does not, or not this. A maker may owe his creature happiness, but not a second being made to be that happiness. Victor’s doubt still stands: the creature has already done harm. A debt to one being cannot be paid by risking others, and the consent comes partly from fear.

• but have you not already shown a degree of malice that should reasonably make me distrust you?
• His power and threats were not omitted in my calculations;

Listen for

• Weighs “as a right” against “a degree of malice”: a claim of justice against a record of harm.
• Notices that Victor’s pity comes while he listens and his horror when he looks, and asks which should govern a judgment.
• Notices that Victor names two debts, to the creature and to “my fellow creatures”, and asks whether one act can pay both.
• Keeps clear of what happens next: whether Victor keeps the promise, and whether the oath is a feint.

If stuck

• What does the creature say would cure his malice?
• What reasons does Victor give, first for refusing and then for agreeing?
• Does making someone mean you owe them what only you can give?

A strong answer A strong thesis takes a side and earns it. A student might argue that Victor owes it: he made a creature “of fine sensations”, others met it with “loathing and scorn”, and he alone can give what it asks. The strongest objection is Victor’s own: the creature has “already shown a degree of malice”, and a debt to him cannot be paid by risking others, least of all a being made only to meet his need. A good revision might say the maker owes him something real, and might ask whether a consent reached partly through “calculations” of power and threats settles what is owed or only what is safe.