1187

  • company was irksome to me Victor's rationalizations for his withdrawal from social interaction have an obvious
    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 Irish Improbably, Victor has floated some hundreds of miles. Moreover, as we discover in
    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

  • interest for my guest Where the first paragraph may lead Mary Shelley's readers to question the uses (and
    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.
  • 1188

  • the lovely Isis The Upper Thames River is called the Isis as it flows through Oxford.
  • 1189

  • it was he . . . nurse Mary Shelley's emphasis is delicate but marked. In his several months of illness
    and misery it appears that only late does Victor recognize that there are medical
    costs that had to be borne by someone. He has focussed critically on the quality of
    the care without inquiring who had accepted the expence on his behalf.
  • 1169

  • human sympathies This sentence carries an interestingly pointed balance. Everywhere in the novel,
    in accord with Enlightenment values, human sympathy is marked as the foundation for
    personal and social happiness. Here one infers that Mary Shelley recognizes that even
    this virtue can lead to a measure of self-absorption in the merely human, at the expense
    of an external reality principle embodied in nature.
  • 1170

  • a husband, and lovely children Until this very late point in the novel we have only been able to assume that Margaret
    Saville, because of the difference in her surname, has a husband. With this confirmed,
    we discover as well that she has children. One reason Mary Shelley may be supplying
    this information now would be to justify the emotional intensity of this outpouring
    in which Walton in solitude and dire straits reaches out to his only family connections.
    But by the same token, that connectedness contrasts pointedly with the situation in
    the Frankenstein household, where when the novel ends only Ernest, who would seem
    to have little to recommend him beyond being a dull and regular fellow, will survive
    its events.
  • 1173

  • I curbed the imperious voice of wretchedness

    "By the utmost self-violence": Victor lacks the modern vocabulary that would term
    this act mere repression. He likens it to suicide, an active, even extreme, assertion
    of violence against the self. Yet again, the reader may wish to ask, which self is
    it that he would destroy, that of the Creator or of his extension who has destroyed
    those whom Victor loves? The doubling of selves is insistent even where, as here,
    it is merely insinuated.

  • 1175

  • I had been conversing with several persons in the island The episode remembered by Victor is not noted in the previous chapter. There, the
    events of the night before Victor departed "[b]etween two and three in the morning"
    (III:3:24) are wholly unremarked. Clerval's body was discovered approximately four
    hours earlier, some time after 10 o'clock.
  • 1174

  • ignorant This is a word with considerable resonance by this point in the novel. Victor has
    carefully kept Walton ignorant of the process by which he created life, and, moreover,
    excoriates him when he suspects Walton of wanting to penetrate his secret (III:Walton:3).
    He dies clearly wishing that he had himself remained in a state of innocent ignorance.
    Although it is likely that, upon reflection, Walton will broaden the range under which
    he construes knowledge to embrace a moral education, here he limits its conception
    wholly to scientific discovery. In his dejection he seems to have gone out of his
    way to miss the point of Victor Frankenstein's narration, which is itself truly a
    mark of his ignorance.