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Hello and welcome to Storytime for Grown Ups. I'm Faith Moore and this season we're reading Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Each episode I'll read a few chapters from the book, pausing from time to time to give brief explanations so it's.
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Easier to follow along.
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It's like an audiobook with built in notes. So brew a pot of tea, find a cozy chair and settle in. It's story time. Hi everyone. Welcome back and happy October. We made it to October. It is officially spooky season if that's your thing. So I'm so glad to be here with you. Thank you for joining me today. Thank you. The fact that it is October means that we are pretty much exactly halfway through this book. This book is going to take us just about two months to read. We started it at the very beginning of September, so it is now the very beginning of October, which means that we are halfway through. So last time I said that when it became October, I would give you a little teaser about what would happen next after we finished Frankenstein. So we're going to Finish Frankenstein on 10-3-30. That will be our wrap up episode. I always do one at the very end of each book where we just kind of tie up any loose ends. We have more of a big picture discussion. So we don't read any book that day, but we just kind of conclude everything so we feel like we've had some closure and we can move on to the next thing. So that is going to be October 30th. That's a Thursday. It's the day before Halloween. So it's the perfect time to end our reading of Frankenstein. And then we're, we will not take any kind of break. The next episode will come out on Monday, which is November 3rd, so then we'll be into November. Now normally I am a purist about when Christmas begins, when the Christmas season begins. And I know that different people have different opinions about this, but normally for me, the Christmas season begins on or just after Thanksgiving. And we have a very hard and fast rule in my family that the Christmas music may be played only after Santa Claus has arrived at Herald Square in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. That is when we can turn on the music for Christmas time, which implies that that is when the Christmas season begins. And I stand by that. However, I am going to make an exception. You're going to get a little kind of free pass that is limited only to story time for grown ups this year. So we do what I like to call a Christmas spectacular. Here on Storytime for Grown Ups, we've done it only once before because we've only had one Christmas time come up before. Since this podcast began last year, we read A Christmas Carol, which to me is the greatest Christmas story ever written. So we read that and it's still there. So if, when you're getting into the Christmas spirit this holiday season, I invite you to listen to that or re listen to that. It's still there. But we are going to have a Christmas spectacular again this year. And it's actually going to start on November 3rd, and it's going to take us through the months of November and December. So at first it will sort of feel like, what is going on here? I'm not ready for Christmas. We haven't even had Thanksgiving yet. And I will completely understand that feeling. Feeling. But when we are in this space together, we will be in the Christmas spirit. And then you can go away and remember that it's not quite Christmas yet, and that's fine. But as we go along, it will become more and more and more Christmassy until we finish the book that we're going to read right around Christmas time. So it will be a way to kind of lead you into. Lead you slowly into the Christmas season. So we're going to do our Christmas spectacular starting right after Frankenstein. And it'll be a lovely kind shift a change of scene from the dark and dismal world of Frankenstein to the wonderful and Christmassy world of the book that we're going to read next. And of course, I am not going to tell you yet what book that.
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Is, but I will put out a.
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Trailer and the trailer will drop. I can tell you this part. The trailer will drop on Saturday, October 18th. So on October 18th, you will suddenly be inundated with the Christmas spirit and it will come at you from absolutely nowhere, since it will still be October and not even Halloween yet. And it will be very strange. But we're gonna just go with it here because I've picked a book that I think, I really think we're all gonna enjoy it. It's gonna be so much fun and it's gonna take us into Christmas. So that's what's happening. We're doing Frankenstein until the end of October and then we're heading right into Christmas. So I hope you'll join me for an early Christmas. Christmas is coming early to Storytime for Grown Ups. And it will take us all the way through till December. And then in January, we'll read our next big book. So I hope you'll join me for that and check out the trailer when it comes out on October 18, which is a great segue into saying please make sure that you are subscribed. You will not see the trailer necessarily if you're not subscribed, you'll have to go looking for it and that's no fun. So don't do that. Subscribe. And if you've been enjoying the show, please consider tapping the five stars. If you you haven't already. Please leave a positive review and most importantly, please tell a friend, share with someone you think will like the show about this show and let's get more and more and more people listening and talking about books together because I really do believe it will change the world also, and I won't go into this at length. Do check out the show notes of this episode and check out the various links that are there. I hope you'll join our online community. I hope you'll buy some merch. I hope you'll just click on things and see where where they lead you. So thank you for being here as always. Thank you for joining us and I hope you'll join us into the future of Storytime for Grown Ups past this book. Anyway, we're still in this book and I'm very, very happy and excited to be here. So last time we read chapters nine and ten of Frankenstein, and today we're going to be reading chapters 11 and 12. And boy, do we have a lot to talk about before we read. So let's remember what happened in the chapters we read last time and then I'm going to read you some questions and we'll talk about them. So here is the recap.
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All right, so where we left off.
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Victor is still wracked with guilt about what his creation did to his brother and to Justine, and also about the way that Elizabeth now feels that she can't really see the world the same way after witnessing this horrible injustice. Eventually, Victor decides to go away on his own.
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And he goes to Chamonix, which is.
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In France, where everything is incredibly beautiful. And for a time he feels a bit happier. But he's always haunted by what he's done. One day, as he's traveling through the beautiful glacial landscape of the mountains, he encounters the monster. He curses the monster and calls for his destruction. But the monster speaks to him and he speaks incredibly eloquently. And he says that he began as.
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A benevolent creature, right?
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But Victor's treatment of him and his.
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Abandonment of him turned him to violence.
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So he begs Victor to listen to his story. And for the first time, Victor realizes that perhaps he had some responsibilities when it came to the formation of this creature's mind and conduct. So he agrees to listen. So the monster leads him to a cave in the mountainside, and Victor prepares.
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To listen to the monster's story.
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So what we're going to hear this.
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Time is the monster's story.
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All right, I'm gonna read 3 comments today. The first one comes from Donald Sutherland. He writes, hold up, the wretch can speak. And with eloquence. I was raised in Detroit, Michigan, where the blockheaded zombie style Halloween Frankenstein exists. The whole time, this quote unquote gentleman offering options was out there. I'm intrigued. Is he? Oh, I just humanized the monster. Simply misunderstood. This next one comes from Angela. She says, at this point, I find Victor more frightening than his corpse quilt of a science project. Maybe that's why, as you pointed out earlier on, the book is named after Frankenstein, not the being he created. Who's really the monster in this story. And the last one is from Linda. She writes, I am surprised at how different the book is from the original Universal movie. Victor truly is the monster. In his obsession with creating life, he has indirectly taken two lives and destroyed his own. He reminds me of an addict. He will do anything to satisfy his craving without realizing his craving will never be satisfied. Thank you for choosing this book. I probably wouldn't have read it otherwise. Okay, so you guys, this is the moment that I at least have been waiting for. I'm serious. Part of the joy of sharing these books with you is to get to kind of experience, experience your reactions at parts of the story that are surprising or exciting or romantic or whatever it is. Because I've already experienced these things for the first time, so I still love them. But that first kind of raw experience of them, that's pretty much over for me. But getting to hear your responses is a whole other level of fun. Because this is the moment, right? That last little section of chapter 10 that we read last time, this is the moment where if you haven't read this book before, everything you know about Frankenstein just completely goes out the window, right? The green guy with the square head like the moaning, inarticulate zombie man, this sort of non human human, the Halloween version of Frankenstein's monster, whatever you want to call it. Well, he is just not in this book. Surprise. And what is in the book, as Donald says in his letter, is, is a highly eloquent, reasoning, feeling, thinking, almost gentlemanlike being. I mean, what gives okay. And I think this revelation that the creature is, or at least has become essentially a real human being with desires and thoughts and feelings of love and joy and despair and all of this, I think this revelation kind of forces us to ask the question that Angela and Linda are basically asking in their letters, which is essentially, who is the monster here? I mean, we might already have begun to ask ourselves that question, because we've been talking for a while now about Victor's responsibility to the creature he created and how he's totally shirked that responsibility and everything. And we've looked at that initial scene where the creature kind of wakes up and toddles after Victor. And so we've kind of had a guess, if you will, that this wasn't just a sort of zombie or an inherently evil being. So we might already have been saying, who is the monster? The being that didn't ask to be created and was left to fend for itself. Or the man who played God and then didn't take care of his creation? Which one of them is it? So it was already on the table, but now, now we have to reckon with the fact that the creature has become a highly verbal, apparently deeply feeling being, which means he was capable of becoming that even when he first woke up. So all of Victor's convictions about his creation, they were seemingly totally wrong. And this being is, in fact, essentially human. So again, who is the monster here? Which one of them? Victor or his creation? Now, of course, the creation is not completely blameless here. I'm not saying that he has killed William. We essentially got confirmation of that in the last chapter. And he tells Victor that he will kill again if Victor doesn't do whatever it is that he's going to ask for once he's told Victor his tale. And he doesn't mince words about it either. He's saying, this is what he says. I will glut the maw of death until it be satiated with the blood of your remaining friends. I mean, that's great, you guys. I just love that. I mean, what evocative language, right? Glut the maw of death. It's brilliant. Okay? But he is saying essentially that he killed William and he will kill everyone that Victor loves if Victor doesn't do what he wants him to do. So that's bad. There's no doubt about that. But the creature also tells Victor that it was Victor's mistreatment of him, his total abandonment, his hatred. It was this that turned him into what he is. In other words, he wasn't as Victor had been saying all along, he wasn't an evil being to begin with. He has done evil deeds because of the treatment he received. Now, of course, we can say that no matter what happens to you, you shouldn't become a murderer of little boys. And that is true. That is a statement that I can stand by, and I hope you can too. But I also think that given that this being seems to be a being capable of everything a human is capable of, we can, I think, have some sympathy for him in the sense that he was horribly neglected and completely unloved. And we can definitely wonder, I think Shelley wants us to wonder here, what would have happened if he had been loved and cared for and taught the way he should have been, the way it was Victor's responsibility to do. And I don't know about you, but I feel like the monster has a pretty unassailable point here. You cannot really argue with what he's saying. Here it is again. He says, yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You propose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life. Right? This is exactly what we've been saying all along. Victor created this creature, and because of that, he is bound to the creature. He has a responsibility toward him. And the idea that Victor now wants to kill the creature, it's totally unfair to the creature. I don't know. I kind of see his point. Don't you? How dare you sport thus with life meaning, how dare you create me only to kill me? Right? He's alive now, and he values his life as you do. As I do. As we all do. So how is it fair that Victor should bring him to life only to kill him? I mean, this is another one of our short essay questions, right? Once you've created the being, even if you shouldn't have created it, right? Once you have, what are your responsibilities to it? And I feel like not killing it is probably one of them, since it is a thinking, feeling being and not like an automaton or a zombie or something like that. And. And we've talked about this too. The creature recognizes that Victor is his creator, Victor is his God. And he's saying that if only Victor had loved him the way that God is meant to love his creations, then he, the creature, would have worshipped and loved Victor in return. Here is what he I am thy creature. And I will be even mild and docile to my natural lord. And King, if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest me. He's saying you owe me. It's a two way street, this creation thing. You bring me into the world, so I am grateful to you. But you also need to protect and nurture and care for me because you brought me into the world. And if you do that, I will love and honor you. And if you don't believe that the creature is likening Victor to God, then listen to this quote, okay? It says, remember that I am thy creature. I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel whom.
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Thou drivest from joy for no misdeed.
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Okay, so this is a reference to Milton's Paradise Lost, which is an epic poem from the 1600s in which the fallen angel becomes Satan. But what he is saying here is that just like Adam was the first man that God created, this creature is the first man that Victor created. So the creature is Victor's Adam. And as such, Victor ought to love and care for the creature, just as God loved and cared for Adam. But instead, instead the creature feels like the fallen angel, driven from his creator's domain and forced to live without joy because of that. Now, for those of you thinking, how on earth has the creature learned to talk? Did it actually read Paradise Lost? How did it get such great oratorical skills and all this? Just stay tuned, okay?
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All will be revealed.
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But for now, just go with it. He can do all that stuff and he's using his eloquence to. To make a very relatable point, I think. Here is what he says. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good. Misery made me a fiend. Make me happy and I shall again be virtuous. Right? He sees that he is excluded from the community of mankind. He sees that people are happy and loved and connected to one another and. And he wants that. It's all the stuff we talked about as being important at the very beginning of the book, right? Remember when we started Victor's narrative and it was all about how he has these loving parents and this more than cousin, his fiance Elizabeth, and his siblings and his friend Henry and all of this. Remember how Shelley was going out of her way to tell us that it was this that was important? Well, the creature has figured this out. He also feels that these are the things that matter, but he can't access them. He has no way to join the world of Cuban connection. And I mean, I don't know about you, but I can relate to how awful that is. We've all been lonely. I mean, I assume we all have. I certainly have. We all have felt we were excluded from something or denied entry into a group we wanted to be part of, or we couldn't be with the person we wanted to be with romantically, or whatever it is. So I think we can relate. And it's worse for the Creature because he is excluded from the entirety of human community, not just one part of it or another part. And Victor is the reason why. Here is what the Creature. Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent. My soul glowed with love and humanity. But am I not alone? Miserably alone. You, my creator, abhor me. What hope can I gather from your fellow creatures who owe me nothing? They spurn and hate me. Okay, you see, if Victor had loved him, then the Creature would have known love. And if Victor had accepted him, he might have somehow caused the world to accept him, too. But thrust into the world completely alone, with no explanation, looking like a sewn together corpse man, the world has shunned him. Just like you would have shunned him if you'd seen him. Just like I would have shunned him if I'd seen him. I mean, let's not pretend here, okay? If we had seen this guy walking down the street, we would have screamed and run away. I know I would have. But if Victor had been there to say, you know, I know this guy looks really scary, but he's actually good and kind and smart, and if you could just look past his ugliness, you know, you would see that then things might have been different for the creature. You know, this is kind of a ridiculous example, but I keep thinking about that scene in the Disney movie of Beauty and the Beast where, if you've seen it, it's where Belle tells Gaston and all the townspeople and everyone that the Beast may look ugly and frightening, but he's really kind and gentle and he's her friend. Do you remember that? And in that same scene, she tells Gaston, who is her handsome but ultimately kind of evil suitor, right? She tells him he is not the monster. The Beast is not the monst. You are, Gaston. You are. So I know that that's a silly thing to reference here, but I keep thinking of it because we're starting to question, is it the monster who is the monster? Or is it Victor? And also, if we could have just seen past the creature's hideous exterior, could we have included him into the human community and prevented him from feeling so completely alone? I don't know about you. And I know I go for anything that's even adjacent to Beauty and the Beast. You guys know me, and you know that. So I probably feel this more strongly than some might. But even so, I at least feel real sympathy for this creature. I kind of want to just give him a really big hug, you know? But what about Victor? Does Victor realize his mistake? I mean, he kind of does. Here is what he says. He says for the first time. Also, I felt what the duties of a creator towards his creature were, and that I ought to render him happy before I complained of his wickedness. So there it is, right? The thing he should have realized all along. He suddenly realizes that maybe he actually had some kind of responsibility to this being. So, okay, good for him, I guess. But, like, really, I mean, you could have figured that out on your own, I think. And also, he's still totally repulsed by the way he looks. And he keeps kind of going back and forth about wanting to maybe kill him. Like he suddenly realizes that maybe he has a duty toward the creature. But does he actually correlate that to the fact that the monster has become capable of murder? Or is it more of like a theoretical realization? Like, oh, I guess creators have some duty toward their creation? I don't know. I'm not convinced that Victor has totally seen the error of his ways here. And I do want to point out one cool thing that Shelley does in these chapters, which is that there's a kind of subtle but very real sort of mirroring that's going on here between Victor and the creature. The creature is telling Victor, if only I'd been loved and cared for and taught, I wouldn't have become a murderer. And Victor, at the beginning of chapter nine, he tells us that if only he hadn't created this being that killed his brother, he wouldn't have become such a wreck of a human being. Here's what he yet my heart overflowed with kindness and the love of virtue. I had begun life with benevolent intentions and thirsted for the moment when I should put them in practice and make myself useful to my fellow beings. And now all was blasted. It's kind of the same idea, right? Except that Victor has done this thing to himself, whereas the creature had something done to him. But also, both Victor and the creature feel that because of what happened to them. So in Victor's case, bringing this creature to life. In the creature's case, being brought to life and then abandoned because of what happened to each of them, they both feel that their behavior was inevitable. So here's what Victor says. I should have been the first to hide my grief and console my friends. If remorse had not mingled its bitterness and terror, its alarm with my other sensations. Now I could only answer my father with a look of despair. And endeavor to hide myself from his view. Okay, so what he's saying is he would have been a helpful, loving brother and fiance and son. But because of his guilt and his mistake, he has to be super sad and mopey all the time. And the creature is saying that he would have been a loving, kind, caring being. But because he was abandoned and unloved, he. He became a murderer. So I think this is really cool from, like, a literary analysis standpoint. And that may not be your thing, and that's totally fine. But it's a cool thing that Shelley is doing here. Because Victor already said that he feels the creature is somehow some kind of, like, demon version of himself. And now Shelley is having them mirror each other in their sentiments here. And the last thing I want to just point out. I know I've been talking for a long time now. So this is the last thing I just want to call your attention to. This idea of nature. We've touched on this before, but it came up again in these chapters. The way Victor kind of retreats into the natural world. In order to try to feel better. And I think it's a theme in the book. That there is such a thing as nature. In other words, what Victor tried to do by playing God and creating a being in this other kind of way. That was unnatural. But there is such a thing as nature. There is a natural order to things. And there is a God who created that natural order. Victor is not that God. We talked about this before when we were discussing Victor creating the creature initially. But we get in these chapters a very clear explanation. That there is only one creator of nature. And it is this being, namely, God. And it's this being that actually knows what he's doing. And who is actually authorized to create life. Here's what Victor sets. He says the sound of the river raging among the rocks. And the dashing of the waterfalls around. Spoke of a power mighty as omnipotence. And I cease to fear or to bend before any being less almighty than that which had created and ruled the elements here displayed in their most terrific guise. Right? He's saying, only God is God. And when he's out in nature, he sees and he feels the true order of things. The real way that things are meant to be called into being and sustain life. And what he did was an abomination, because he is not God. But, and this is the important thing, his creation is created, and it does seem to be human in some way. It may even have a soul. I know that's a little dicey. Like, theologically, but narratively, it does seem to be a creature with a soul. It even says it has a soul, so it at least feels like it has one. So he's created a being that shouldn't be, but now it is. And I think we're pretty much all in agreement that Victor has done his creation wrong. So we're about to get a new narrator. Okay, we've been with Victor for 10 chapters now. Before that, we had Walton for four letters. But now, ladies and gentlemen, the mic is passed to none other than Frankenstein's monster. Okay, so forget everything you think you know about Frankenstein's monster, and let's see who he really is, and then we can judge who the real monster is. Okay? And just don't forget to write to me, because I want to know what you think about this. It's faithkmore.com and click on Contact. Or just scroll into the show notes of this episode and click on the link that's there. All right, let's get started with chapters 11 and 12 of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. It's story time.
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Chapter 11. It is with considerable difficulty that I remember the original era of my being. All the events of that period appear confused and indistinct. A strange multiplicity of sensations seized me, and I saw, felt, heard, and smelt at the same time. And it was indeed a long time before I learned to distinguish between the operations of my various senses. By degrees, I remember a stronger light pressed upon my nerves, so that I was obliged to shut my eyes. Darkness then came over me and troubled me. But hardly had I felt this when by opening my eyes, as I now suppose, the light poured in upon me again. I walked, and, I believe, descended. But I presently found a great alteration in my sensations. Before, dark and opaque bodies had surrounded me, impervious to my touch or sight. But I now found that I could wander on at liberty with no obstacles which I could not either surmount or avoid. The light became more and more oppressive to me, and the heat wearying me. As I walked, I sought a place where I could receive shade. This was the forest near Ingolstadt. And here I lay by the side of a brook, resting from my fatigue until I felt tormented by hunger and thirst. This roused me from my nearly dormant state, and I ate Some berries which I found hanging on the trees or lying on the ground. I slaked my thirst at the brook, and then, lying down, was overcome by sleep. It was dark when I awoke. I felt cold also and half frightened as it were, instinctively finding myself so desolate. Before I had quitted your apartment on a sensation of cold. I had covered myself with some clothes, but these were insufficient to secure me from the dews of night. I was a poor, helpless, miserable wretch. I knew and could distinguish nothing. But feeling pain invade me on all sides, I sat down and wept. Soon a gentle light stole over the heavens and gave me a sensation of pleasure. I started up and beheld a radiant form rise from among the trees. The moon. I gazed with a kind of wonderful it moved slowly, but it enlightened my path, and I again went on in search of berries. I was still cold when under one of the trees I found a huge cloak with which I covered myself and sat down upon the ground. No distinct ideas occupied my mind. All was confused. I felt light and hunger and thirst and darkness. Innumerable sounds rang in my ears, and on all sides various scents saluted me. The only object that I could distinguish was the bright moon, and I fixed my eyes on that with pleasure. Several changes of day. Night passed, and the orb of night had greatly lessened. When I began to distinguish my sensations from each other. I gradually saw plainly the clear stream that supplied me with drink and the trees that shaded me with their foliage. I was delighted when I first discovered that a pleasant sound, which often saluted my ears, proceeded from the throats of the little winged animals who had often intercepted the light from my eyes. I began also to observe with greater accuracy the forms that surrounded me and to perceive the boundaries of the radiant roof of light which canopied me. Sometimes I tried to imitate the pleasant songs of the birds, but was unable. Sometimes I wish to express my sensations in my own mode. But the uncouth and inarticulate sounds which broke from me frightened me into silence. Again the moon had disappeared from the night, and again, with a lessened form, showed itself while I still remained in the forest. My sensations had by this time become distinct, and my mind received every day additional ideas. My eyes became accustomed to the light and to perceive objects in their right forms. I distinguished the insect from the herb and by degrees, one herb from another. I found that the sparrow uttered none but harsh notes, whilst those of the blackbird and thrush were sweet and enticing. One day, when I was oppressed by cold I found a fire which had been left by some wandering beggars and was overcome with delight at the warmth I experienced from it. In my joy I thrust my hand into the live embers, but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain. How strange, I thought, that the same cause should produce such opposite effects. I examined the materials of the fire and to my joy found it to be composed of wood. I quickly collected some branches, but they were wet and would not burn. I was pained at this and sat still watching the operation of the fire. The wet wood which I had placed near the heat dried and itself became inflamed. I reflected on this, and by touching the various branches I discovered the cause and busied myself in collecting a great quantity of wood, that I might dry it and have a plentiful supply of fire. When night came on and brought sleep with it, I was in the greatest fear lest my fire should be extinguished. I covered it carefully with dry wood and leaves and placed wet branches upon it. And then, spreading my cloak, I lay on the ground and sank into sleep. It was morning when I awoke, and my first care was to visit the fire. I uncovered it, and a gentle breeze quickly fanned it into a flame. I observed this also and contrived a fan of branches which roused the embers when they were nearly extinguished. When night came again, I found with pleasure that the fire gave light as well as heat, and that the discovery of this element was useful to me in my food. For I found some of the offals that the travelers had left had been roasted and tasted much more savory than the berries I gathered from the trees. I tried, therefore, to dress my food in the same manner. Placing it on the live embers. I found that the berries were spoiled by this operation and the nuts and roots much improved. Food, however, became scarce, and I often spent the whole day searching in vain for a few acorns to assuage the pangs of hunger. When I found this, I resolved to quit the place that I had hitherto inhabited, to seek for one where the few wants I experienced would be more easily satisfied. In this emigration I exceedingly lamented the loss of the fire which I had obtained through accident and knew not how to reproduce it. I gave several hours to the serious consideration of this difficulty, but I was obliged to relinquish all attempt to supply it, and, wrapping myself up in my cloak, I struck across the wood towards the setting sun. I passed three days in these rambles, and at length discovered the open country. A great fall of Snow had taken place the night before, and the fields were of one uniform white. The appearance was disconsolate, and I found my feet chilled by the cold, damp substance that covered the ground. It was about 7 in the morning, and I longed to obtain food and shelter. At length I perceived a small hut on a rising ground which had doubtless been built for the convenience of some shepherd. This was a new sight to me, and I examined the structure with great curiosity. Finding the door open, I entered. An old man sat in it near a fire over which he was preparing his breakfast. He turned on hearing a noise and, perceiving me, shrieked loudly and, quitting, the hut, ran across the fields with a speed of which his debilitated form hardly appeared capable, his appearance different from any I had ever before seen, and his flight somewhat surprised me. But I was enchanted by the appearance of the hut. Here the snow and rain could not penetrate the ground was dry, and it presented to me then as exquisite and divine a retreat, as pandemonium appeared to the demons of hell after their suffering coverings in the lake fire, I greedily devoured the remnants of the shepherd's breakfast, which consisted of bread, cheese, milk and wine. The latter, however, I did not like. Then, overcome by fatigue, I lay down among some straw and fell asleep. It was noon when I awoke, and allured by the warmth of the sun which shone brightly on the white ground, I determined to recommence my travels, and depositing the remains of the peasant's breakfast in a wallet, I found I proceeded across the fields for several hours, until, at sunset I arrived at a village. How miraculous did this appear. The huts, the neater cottages and stately houses, engaged my admiration by turns. The vegetables in the gardens, the milk and cheese that I saw placed at the windows of some of the cottages allured my appetite. One of the best of these I entered, but I had hardly placed my foot within the door before the children shrieked and one of the women fainted. The whole village was roused. Some fled, some attacked me until grievously bruised by stones and many other kinds of missile weapons. I escaped to the open country and fearfully took refuge in a low hovel, quite bare and making a wretched appearance after the palaces I had beheld in the village. This hovel, however, joined a cottage of a neat and pleasant appearance, but after my late, dearly bought experience, I dared not enter it. My place of refuge was constructed of wood, but so low that I could with difficulty sit upright in it. No wood, however, was placed on the earth which formed the floor, but it was dry, and although the wind entered it by innumerable chinks, I found it an agreeable asylum from the snow and rain. Here then I retreated and lay down, happy to have found a shelter, however miserable, from the inclemency of the season, and still more from the barbarity man. As soon as morning dawned, I crept from my kennel that I might view the adjacent cottage and discover if I could remain in the habitation I had found. It was situated against the back of the cottage and surrounded on the sides, which were exposed by a pig sty and a clear pool of water. One part was open, and by that I had crept in. But now I covered every crevice by which I might be perceived with stones and wood, yet in such a manner that I might move them on occasion to pass out. All the light I enjoyed came through the sty, and that was sufficient for me. Having thus arranged my dwelling and carpeted it with clean straw, I retired. For I saw the figure of a man at a distance, and I remembered too well my treatment the night before to trust myself in his power. I had first, however, provided for my sustenance for that day by a loaf of coarse bread, which I purloined, and a cup with which I could drink more conveniently than from my hand of the pure water which flowed by my retreat. The floor was a little raised so that it was kept perfectly dry, and by its vicinity to the chimney of the cottage it was tolerably warm. Being thus provided, I resolved to reside in this hovel until something should occur which might alter my determination. It was indeed a paradise compared to the bleak forest, my former residence, the rain dropping branches and dank earth. I ate my breakfast with pleasure and was about to remove a plank to procure myself a little water when I heard a step, and looking through a small chink, I beheld a young creature with a pail on her head passing before my hovel. The girl was young and of a gentle demeanour, unlike what I have since found cottagers and farmhouse servants to be. Yet she was meanly dressed, a coarse blue petticoat and a linen jacket being her only garb. Her fair hair was plaited, meaning braided, but not adorned. She looked patient yet sad. I lost sight of her, and in about a quarter of an hour she returned bearing the pail, which was now partly filled with milk. As she walked along, seemingly incommoded by the burden, a young man met her whose countenance expressed a deeper despondence. Uttering a Few sounds. With an air of melancholy. He took the pail from her head and bore it to the cottage himself. She followed, and they disappeared. Presently I saw the young man again with some tools in his hand, cross the field behind the cottage. And the girl was also busied, sometimes in the house and sometimes in the yard. On examining my dwelling, I found that one of the windows of the cottage had formerly occupied a part of it, but the panes had been filled up with wood. In one of these was a small and almost imperceptible chink through which the eye could just penetrate. Through this crevice a small room was visible, whitewashed and clean, but very bare of furniture. In one corner, near a small fire, sat an old man, leaning his head on his hands in a disconsolate attitude. The young girl was occupied in arranging the cottage, but presently she took something out of a drawer which employed her hands, and she sat down beside the old man, who, taking up an instrument, began to play and to produce sounds sweeter than the voice of the thrush or the nightingale. It was a lovely sight even to me, poor wretch, who had never beheld aught beautiful before, meaning he'd never seen anything beautiful before, but he knew that this was beautiful. The silver hair and benevolent countenance of the aged cottager won my reverence, while the gentle manners of the girl enticed my love. He played a sweet, mournful air, which I perceived drew tears from the eyes of his amiable companion, of which the old man took no notice until she sobbed audibly. He then pronounced a few sounds, and the fair creature, leaving her work, knelt at his feet. He raised her and smiled with such kindness and affection that I felt sensations of a peculiar and overpowering nature. They were a mixture of pain and pleasure such as I had never before experienced, either from hunger or cold, warmth or food. And I withdrew from the window, unable to bear these emotions. Soon after this, the young man returned, bearing on his shoulders a load of wood. The girl met him at the door, helped to relieve him of his burden, and, taking some of the fuel into the cottage, placed it on the fire. Then she and the youth went apart into a nook of the cottage, and he showed her a large loaf and a piece of cheese. She seemed pleased and went into the garden for some roots and plants, which she placed in water, and then upon the fire. She afterwards continued her work, whilst the young man went into the garden and appeared busily employed in digging and pulling up roots. After he had been employed thus, about an hour, the Young woman joined him, and they entered the cottage together. The old man had in the meantime been pensive, but on the appearance of his companions he assumed a more cheerful air, and they sat down to eat. The meal was quickly dispatched. The young woman was again occupied in arranging the cottage. The old man walked before the cottage in the sun for a few minutes, leaning on the arm of the youth. Nothing could exceed in beauty the contrast between these two excellent creatures. One was old, with silver hairs and a countenance beaming with benevolence and love. The younger was slight and graceful in his figure, and his features were molded with the finest symmetry. Yet his eyes and attitude expressed the utmost sadness and despondency. The old man returned to the cottage, and the youth, with tools different from those he had used in the morning, directed his steps across the fields. Night quickly shut in, but to my extreme wonder I found that the cottagers had a means of prolonging light by the use of tapers, and was delighted to find that the setting of the sun did not put an end to the pleasure I experienced in watching my human neighbors. In the evening, the young girl and her companion were employed in various occupations which I did not understand, and the old man again took up the instrument which produced the divine sounds that had enchanted me. In the morning, so soon as he had finished, the youth began not to play, but to utter sounds that were monotonous and neither resembling the harmony of the old man's instrument nor the songs of the birds. I since found that he read aloud. But at that time I knew nothing of the science of words or letters. The family, after having been thus occupied for a short time, extinguished their lights and retired, as I conjectured, to rest. Chapter 12. I lay on my straw, but I could not sleep. I thought of the occurrences of the day. What chiefly struck me was the gentle manners of these people, and I longed to join them, but dared not. I remembered too well the treatment I had suffered the night before from the barbarous villagers, and resolved whatever course of conduct I might hereafter think it right to pursue that for the present I would remain quietly in my hovel, watching and endeavoring to discover the motives which influenced their actions. The cottagers arose the next morning before the sun. The young woman arranged the cottage and prepared the food, and the youth departed after the first meal. This day was passed in the same routine as that which preceded it. The young man was constantly employed out of doors, and the girl in various laborious occupations within. The old man, whom I soon perceived to be blind, employed his leisure hours on his instrument or in contemplation. Nothing could exceed the love and respect which the younger cottagers exhibited towards their venerable companions. They performed towards him every little office of affection and duty with gentleness, and he rewarded them by his benevolent smiles. They were not entirely happy. The young man and his companion often went apart and appeared to weep. I saw no cause for their unhappiness, but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures were miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being, should be wretched. Yet why were these gentle beings unhappy? They possessed a delightful house for such it was in my eyes and every luxury. They had a fire to warm them when chill, and delicious viands when hungry. Viands are food. They were dressed in excellent clothes, and still more they enjoyed one another's company and speech, interchanging each day looks of affection and kindness. What did their tears imply? Did they really express pain? I was at first unable to solve these questions, but perpetual attention and time explained to me many appearances which were at first enigmatic. A considerable period elapsed before I discovered one of the causes of the uneasiness of this amiable family. It was poverty, and they suffered that evil in a very distressing degree. Their nourishment consisted entirely of the vegetables of their garden and the milk of one cow, which gave very little during the winter, when its masters could scarcely procure food to support it. They often, I believe, suffered the pangs of hunger very poignantly, especially the two younger cottagers, for several times they placed food before the old man, when they reserved none for themselves. This trait of kindness moved me sensibly. I had been accustomed during the night to steal a part of their store for my own consumption. But when I found that in doing this I inflicted pain on the cottagers, I abstained and satisfied myself with berries, nuts, and roots, which I gathered from a neighbouring wood. I discovered also another means through which I was enabled to assist their labors. I found that the youth spent a great part of each day in collecting wood for the family fire, and during the night I often took his tools, the use of which I quickly discovered, and brought home firing sufficient for the consumption of several days. I remember the first time that I did this. The young woman, when she opened the door in the morning, appeared greatly astonished on seeing a pile of wood on the outside. She uttered some words in a loud voice, and the youth joined her, who also expressed surprise. I observed with pleasure that he did not go to the forest that day, but spent it in repairing the cottage and cultivating the garden by degrees, I made a discovery of still greater moment. I found that these people possessed a method of communicating their experience and feelings to one another by articulate sounds. I perceived that the words they spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or sadness in the minds and countenances of the hearers. This was indeed a godlike science, and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it. But I was baffled in every attempt I made for this purpose. Their pronunciation was quick, and the words they uttered. Not having any apparent connexion with visible objects, I was unable to discover any clue by which I could unravel the mystery of their reference. By great application, however, and after having remained during the space of several revolutions of the moon in my hovel, I discovered the names that were given to some of the most familiar objects of discourse. I learned and applied the words fire, milk, bread, and wood. I learned also the names of the cottagers themselves. The youth and his companion had each of them several names, but the old man had only one, which was father. The girl was called Sister or Agatha, and the youth Felix, brother or son. I cannot describe the delight I felt When I learned the ideas appropriated to each of these sounds and was able to produce them. I distinguished several other words without being able as yet to understand or apply them, such as good, dearest, unhappy. I spent the winter in this manner. The gentle manners and beauty of the cottagers greatly endeared them to me. When they were unhappy, I felt depressed. When they rejoiced, I sympathized in their joys. I saw few human beings beside them, and if any other happened to enter the cottage, their harsh manners and rude gait Only enhanced to me the superior accomplishments of my friends. The old man, I could perceive, often endeavoured to encourage his children, as sometimes I found that he called them. To cast off their melancholy. He would talk in a cheerful accent with an expression of goodness that bestowed pleasure even upon me. Agatha listened with respect. Her eyes sometimes filled with tears, which she endeavoured to wipe away. Unperceived. But I generally found that her countenance and tone were more cheerful. After having listened to the exhortations of her father. It was not thus with Felix. He was always the saddest of the group, and even to my unpractised senses, he appeared to have suffered more deeply than his friends. But if his countenance was more sorrowful, his voice was more cheerful than that of his sister. Especially when he addressed the old man. I could mention innumerable instances which Although slight, marked the dispositions of these amiable cottagers. In the midst of poverty and want, Felix carried with pleasure to his sister the first little white flower that peeped out from beneath the snowy ground. Early in the morning, before she had risen, he cleared away the snow that obstructed her path to the milk house. House, drew water from the well and brought the wood from the outhouse, where, to his perpetual astonishment, he found his store always replenished by an invisible hand. In the day, I believe he worked sometimes for a neighbouring farmer, because he often went forth and did not return until dinner, yet brought no wood with him. At other times he worked in the garden, but as there was little to do in the frosty season, he read to the old man and Agatha. This reading had puzzled me extremely at first, but by degrees I discovered that he uttered many of the same sounds when he read as when he talked. I conjectured, therefore, that he found on the paper signs for speech which he understood, and I ardently longed to comprehend these also. But how was that possible when I did not even understand the sounds for which they stood as signs? I improved, however sensibly in this science, but not sufficiently to follow up any kind of conversation, although I applied my whole mind to the endeavour, for I easily perceived that although I eagerly longed to discover myself to the cottagers, meaning he wanted to show himself to them, I ought not to make the attempt until I had first become master of their language, which knowledge might enable me to make them overlook the deformity of my figure, for with this also, the contrast perpetually presented to my eyes had made me acquainted. Meaning he knows he's not like them because he can compare what he looks like to what they look like. But if he learns to speak, he.
- [56:11]
A
Thinks maybe he can explain to them.
- [56:12]
B
That he means no harm. I had admired the perfect forms of my cottagers, their grace, beauty and delicate complexions. But how was I? Terrified when I viewed myself in a transparent pool? At first I started back, unable to believe that it was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror. And when I became fully convinced that I was in reality the monster that I am, I was filled with the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification. Alas, I did not yet entirely know the fatal effects of this miserable deformity. As the sun became warmer and the light of day longer, the snow vanished, and I beheld the bare trees in the black earth. From this time Felix was more employed and the heart moving. Indications of impending famine disappeared. Their food, as I afterwards found was coarse, but it was wholesome, and they procured a sufficiency of it. Several new kinds of plants sprang up in the garden, which they dressed, and these signs of comfort increased daily as the season advanced. The old man, leaning on his son, walked each day at noon, when it did not rain, as I found it was called, when the heavens poured forth its waters, this frequently took place. But a high wind quickly dried the earth, and the season became far more pleasant than it had been. My mode of life in my hovel was uniform. During the morning I attended the motions of the cottagers, and when they were dispersed in various occupations, I slept. The remainder of the day was spent in observing my friends. When they had retired to rest, if there was any moon, or the night was starlight, I went into the woods and collected my own food and fuel for the cottage. When I returned, as often as it was necessary, I cleared their path from the snow and performed those offices which I had seen done by Felix. I afterwards found that these labors performed by an invisible hand greatly astonished them, and once or twice I heard them on these occasions utter the words, good spirit, wonderful. But I did not then understand the significance of these terms. My thoughts now became more active, and I longed to discover the motives and feelings of these lovely creatures. I was inquisitive to know why Felix appeared so miserable and Agatha so sad. I thought, foolish wretch, that it might be in my power to restore happiness.
- [59:00]
A
To these deserving people.
- [59:02]
B
When I slept or was absent, the forms of the venerable blind father, the gentle Agatha, and the excellent Felix flitted before me. I looked upon them as superior beings who would be the arbiters of my future destiny. I formed in my imagination a thousand pictures of presenting myself to them and their reception of me. I imagined that they would be disgusted until, by my gentle demeanour and conciliating words, I should first win their favour and afterwards their love. These thoughts exhilarated me and led me to apply with fresh ardour to the acquiring the art of language. My organs were indeed harsh, but supple, and although my voice was very unlike the soft music of their tones, yet I pronounced such words as I understood with tolerable ease. It was as the ass and the lapdog, the ass meaning the donkey. Yet surely the gentle ass, whose intentions were affectionate, although his manners were rude, deserved better treatment than blows and execration. So he's saying he's only a poor animal. But surely even animals deserve kindness. The pleasant showers and genial warmth of spring greatly altered the aspect of the earth. Men who before this change seemed to have been hid in caves, dispersed themselves, and were employed in various arts of cultivation. The birds sang in more cheerful notes, and the leaves began to bud forth on the trees. Happy, happy earth fit habitation for gods, which so short a time before was bleak, damp, and unwholesome. My spirits were elevated by the enchanting appearance of nature. The past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil, and the future gilded by bright rays of hope and anticipations of joy.
- [61:09]
A
Thank you so much for listening. I'd love to know what you thought of the chapters. Is there anything you'd like me to clarify? Did something particularly interest you? Please go to my website, faithkmoore.com click on contact and send me your questions and thoughts. Or you can click on the link in the Show Notes to contact me. I'll feature one or two of your entries at the start of the next episode. Speaking of links, don't forget to take a look at the other links in the Show Notes. You can learn more about me, check out our merch store, or become a member of the Storytime for Grown Ups online community. Before I go, I'd like to ask a quick favor. This is an independent podcast. It's produced, recorded and marketed by me, so I need your help. Spread the word about the show by posting about it on social media or texting a link to your friends. Subscribe, tap those five stars and leave a positive review wherever you're listening. If you are able to support the show financially, there's a link in the Show Notes to make a donation. I would really, really appreciate it. All right everyone, story time is over.
- [62:14]
B
To be continue.