This significant emendation enlarges the connotations of the "ardour" expressed not
just by Victor at the beginning of Chapter II (I:2:1) of the 1831 edition, but by
Walton and the Creature as well. Victor here exonerates himself of any evil consequences
from this trait before we have sufficient information to corroborate his view or,
alternatively, to question how well his potentiality for violence has been displaced
into other pursuits. As he speaks, after all, he is still on a mission whose sole
purpose is the destruction of the Creature whom he brought to life and who has known
from him only rejection or rage. Walton, at this point, has solely Victor's word for
his guiltlessness.

Victor credits his account with being logically consistent, but in twice terming it
a "tale" he raises the question of the truth value of any narrative. This joins with
the disparity detected in the previous paragraph between Walton's understanding of
Victor's virtues and Victor's own concentration on what we might think of as his vices
to reinforce how deeply perspective can infuse the "tale." This will become a major
subtext of this novel, touching all its main events.

The directness of this statement, which though cast in Victor Frankenstein's voice
was certainly written in Mary Shelley's hand, must carry at least a measure of personal
weight for an author whose mother died from complications of childbirth.

The word "imagination" is similarly exalted by Percy Bysshe Shelley in the first paragraph
of the Preface (I:Pref:1) he wrote for the first edition and, even moreso, by Mary
Shelley in her Introduction (see 1831:I:Intro:3 and 1831:I:Intro:11) to the third
edition. Yet, clearly the "doubt" that in these sentences is twice juxtaposed against
this power is meant to deflate its pretensions to be an absolute good. As the novel
proceeds, its questioning of the imagination will intensify.

That Victor is capable of responding to Walton's open desire for his friendship by
reciprocating it implicitly suggests that there is a measure of free will still possible
in the universe, even in that small portion of it that constitutes his own ruined
existence. His recognition of the value of Walton's sympathy also underscores the
significance this emotion will assume throughout the novel

Victor's language, after so many months of silence, is transparently insincere. Since
Clerval does not seem to notice, perhaps Victor does not either. Victor, however,
has himself already expressed the terms of his own indictment for such neglect of
his loved ones: see I:3:10.

Alphonse Frankenstein in the last sentence of the previous chapter admonished the
members of his household to rely on the court's impartiality (see I:6:44). Now that
the court has decided against Justine, he acquiesces in its pronouncement of her guilt
and sees the family suffering as brought to its term. It is hard not to see such a
compartmentalizing of human behavior as having some effect on Victor's habitual distancing
of himself from his emotional obligations and his duties to his Creature.

Here Victor has not only demonized his Creature but has cast him in an adversarial
role, not acknowledging at this point that hatred can be as powerful a passion as
love and that antagonism can define a relationship with as enduring bonds as those
produced through affection. That this most distant of objectified namings coincides
with an almost hysterical sense of relief, indeed of liberation, for Victor suggests
the subtlety of Mary Shelley's psychological understanding. This is a moment of major
moral significance for the development of the novel.

Isabel Baxter became Mary's close friend almost by accident. Mary's early adolescence
had been troubled, particularly fractious where her stepmother was involved; and Godwin
decided that some distance would have a salutary effect on her rebelliousness. He
contacted a radical acquaintance from the 1790s, Richard Baxter, a Scotsman who was
a good friend of his own friend David Booth, who agreed to accept Mary into his family
in Dundee. There at the age of fourteen she took up a happy residence that, as this
account indicates, combined a closeness to nature with a warm affection for the Baxters'
middle daughter Isabel. With this family she resided from June to November 1812, and
from June 1813 to March 1814. Her elopement with the married Percy Bysshe Shelley
not long after her return from this second residence ruptured her friendship, since
David Booth, who had married Isabel in the meantime, refused to allow his wife to
continue her intimacy with a woman who had so abandoned customary propriety.

Although this novel is written very strongly from a male perspective, the accentuation
of female bonding here is an importance balance to that established between Walton
and Victor, between Victor and Clerval, between Victor and his Creature.