1180

  • my first impulses The repression of instinctive response continues as Walton, deeply mindful of the
    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.

    • 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.

    • 1184

  • instantly darted into my mind Every detail of this scene seems meant to impress on those observing it that Victor's
    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.

    • 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.

    • 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.

    • 1188

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

    • 1171

  • I called on him to stay In their monosyllabic simplicity these words constitute the moral center of Mary
    Shelley's novel. Against all his prejudices as Victor's friend, against his repugnance
    to face a multiple murderer, against his basic human instincts that revolt from such
    sublime ugliness, Robert Walton wills himself into a state of ethical selflessness
    that is truly benevolent. The Creature's "wonder" at this unique experience in his
    existence is only to be expected. He has never before been confronted by human inclusiveness.

    • 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.

    • 1172

  • I could send . . . illness The normative expression of sympathy by which Mr. Kirwin reestablishes connections
    that Victor has all but severed emphasizes the extremity of Victor's withdrawal from
    the society of those who have loved him.
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