| Romantic Circles

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.

1183

inquiries concerning an event

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

injustice In his petulance Walton equates justice to his crew with injustice to himself. That
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

a part of the inheritance of Elizabeth This addition to the 1831 text recalls the changed circumstances by which Elizabeth
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

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.

1179

immersed in a solitude This statement makes very clear that, for Victor, solitude carries psychological
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

my imagination was vivid Victor's remembrance alters the emphasis of his earlier account, which contrasted
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.

1177

the strangest tale that ever imagination formed There may be an element of self-puffery by Mary Shelley in this statement, yet it
is surprisingly prescient in its sense of the cultural impact her novel was to have.
Moreover, it is entirely consistent with the way both she and her husband represented
the work to its public. Percy Bysshe Shelley, writing the Preface to the original
edition of Frankenstein, distanced this novel from any attempt at "merely weaving
a series of supernatural terrors," insisting on its adherence to the higher aims of
the "imagination." Similarly, Mary Shelley, in writing the Introduction to the third
edition, stresses how in its initial conception her "imagination, unbidden, possessed
and guided" her. That all these statements are congruent with one another and with
an exalted notion of the Romantic imagination, however, cannot alter the ironic context
in which this particular phrase is uttered. In the previous paragraph we have been
observing Victor Frankenstein, who was once swept along by his imagination to create
a deformed and alienated being, revising with soberly rational care his account of
that act and its consequences. The actual context for this phrase in the novel would
thus appear to offset its perhaps expected paean to the imagination.

1176

imagination was dreadful

This is a further example of the dark tones in which the Romantic imagination is painted
in this novel, resembling earlier cases where an isolated mind is confronted with
a radical uncertainty. For earlier instances pertaining to Victor, see I:4:18 and
note; II:1:8 and note; for a similar construction on the part of the Creature, see
II:4:17 and note.