1187
logic to support them. Still, that this characteristic retreat within reasserts itself
even where he should feel most diverted by his novel surroundings indicates a dangerous
state of mental health.
logic to support them. Still, that this characteristic retreat within reasserts itself
even where he should feel most diverted by his novel surroundings indicates a dangerous
state of mental health.
1186
the next chapter he is not the only one who has traversed the open seas southwest
of the Orkneys to land on the northeast coast of Ireland. Although it has been suggested
that including Ireland in the expansive geographical range of the novel may be Mary
Shelley's means of honoring her mother, who served as a governess there, the strangeness
of this repositioning of setting has never been adequately accounted for.
From Victor's reference to "a line of high land" (III:3:26), we may suppose that Mary
Shelley has in mind geological features like the Giant's Causeway, a line of huge
islets, or the cliffs of Fair Head.
1185
abuses) of writing, the second quickly reminds us of its effects in reinforcing human
sympathy and community. Walton's concern for Victor is, of course, a measure of his
responsiveness as well and therefore of consequence for our estimation of his character.
1184
purchase on reality is tentative at best. The closed circle of logic in which his
mind revolves leads him to conclusions that, on the face of it, would seem ludicrous:
in this case, the supposition that Mr. Kirwin would be opening the door to Victor's
Creature.
1183
The diction Victor uses suggests that it is less having to inform mutual friends of
Clerval's death than his sense of culpability for it, with the attendant need to exonerate
himself, that drives him to avoid his English acquaintance, and perhaps some in France
as well. However we construe his hesitancy, Victor's total rerouting of his itinerary
here is of a piece with his progressive withdrawal from human society and normative
social obligations.
1182
larger, disinterested justice is, however, the stronger ethical position, as Walton
himself understood when his crew presented its case to him earlier (III:Walton:16).
1181
enters into the Frankenstein household, as the natural daughter of a revolutionary
Milanese aristocrat who had been imprisoned by the Austrian government and had had
his property confiscated (see I:1:9) for being too ardent in the cause of his country's
liberty. Although Alphonse Frankenstein's dealings here might be construed as an honorable,
duty-bound attempt by a citizen of a neutral nation to right a wrong and restore to
Elizabeth what had been rightly hers, it is hard to imagine Mary Shelley, who abhorred
the Austrian occupation of Italy and represented Elizabeth's true father as "nursed
in the antique glory of Italy," not thinking this detail commensurate with the essentially
conservative, state-oriented political views Alphonse exhibits elsewhere (see, for
instance, I:1:1 or I:6:44 and note).
1180
solemn and reiterated injunction of Victor Frankenstein to exact vengeance upon his
Creature, hesitates before the presence of the other being. In essence, he substitutes
a reality for an abstraction, his own actuality for the vicarious experience provided
by Victor's narrative. Implied in this act is the priority of individual responsibility
for independent judgment. That Walton is preoccupied by his "impulses" in the plural
may indicate how difficult, complex, and responsive to particular circumstances such
a judgment must be.
1179
consequences of considerable and dangerous weight. From this point on for many months,
with only the briefest exceptions, Victor will be trapped in a kind of solitary confinement.
What begins as a figurative condition, indeed, will become an actual physical fact.
1178
his own interest in facticity with Elizabeth's (and Henry Clerval's) delight in the
imagination (I:1:9). However much he may be inflating the record here, the reader
cannot but be aware of the ambivalence about the nature of the imagination expressed
in these lines. That Victor once "trod heaven in [his] thoughts" cannot mitigate the
hellish misery to which he has now sunk, nor even at that earlier point in his remembrance
could it guarantee that the outcome of such an introverted elation would have an essential
value. The imagination, in this analysis, might be necessary for great achievement,
but by itself it is by no means sufficient, being merely an instrument, and, as such,
easily capable of indulging a self-absorbed solipsism.