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- [00:00]
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Hello and welcome to Storytime for Grown Ups. I'm Faith Moore and this season we're.
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Reading Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.
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Each episode I'll read a few chapters.
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From the book, pausing from time to.
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Time to give brief explanations so it's easier to follow along.
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It's like an audiobook with built in notes.
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So brew a pot of tea, find.
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A cozy chair and settle in. It's story time. Hi everyone. Welcome back. Literally, as I was turning on the mic to record just now, I had an idea. What do you guys think about T shirts in the merch store that say either Team Victor or or TeamMonster? What do you think? Write in and tell me if you would like those shirts and also which one you would wear. Because I know which one I would wear and we're going to talk about that today. Although not about the shirt because I just thought of that. But I think you'll be able to tell by the end of today's intro which one of those shirts I would be wearing. If you can't guess already. Anyway, I am so glad that you're here. Welcome back to Storytime for Grownups. Thank you for being here with me. I hope that wherever you are, you are cozy and warm with your cup of tea in your lovely armchair with a blanket. Even if it's just in your imagination, even if you're really not anywhere quite like that at all. I hope that this place is that for you. I always hope that.
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So welcome.
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You're always welcome here. Thank you for listening. Okay, so subscribe. Tap the five stars, tell a friend, leave a review, wear your merch, whatever it is that you can do to spread the word about this show, please do it. But really do subscribe. Because remember, the trailer for our very early Christmas Spectacular will be dropping very soon into your podcast feed. It's coming out October 18th. It's a Saturday, so subscribe so you don't miss it. I'm really excited for you guys to find out what we're doing and I hope you'll write in once that trailer drops, but we have a little bit of time left until that happens. And please do check out all the links in the show notes and I hope that you will join our online community as well because that's a great way to chat with other people about these books, which is really what it's all about, you guys talking together with people about books.
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Do it.
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It's amazing. So please do that and I will let you know soon when the next tea time is going to be. And a little bit more about that. I haven't scheduled it yet, but it's a great time to sign up and figure out what the drawing room community is all about. I hope to see you over there. So check out all the links that are in the show notes. Okay. Last time we read chapters 11 and 12 of Frankenstein, and today we're going to be reading chapters 13 and 14. And we've got a lot to discuss before we do. So before all of that, let's just remember what happen in chapters 11 and 12. And then I've got some comments that I'd like to read to you. So here is the recap. Okay, so where we left off, the monster is now talking, and he's telling Victor the story of what happened to.
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Him after Victor rejected him.
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He says that at first he was just sort of a bundle of sensations and he stumbled through the forest trying to figure everything out. Eventually, he figures out he can eat berries and roots, and he discovers a fire left from someone else, and he keeps it burning for warmth and light. He finds out that people are terrified of him, so he resolves to stay away from humans and keep to himself. Eventually, he finds a sort of hovel attached to a small cottage, and he's able to hide in there and kind of peek through a crack into the house itself. And in there, he sees an old.
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Man, a young man and a young woman.
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And he realizes that the old man is blind and the family is poor and they're unhappy. So he watches them day by day and he comes to love them. He stops stealing their food and eats berries and roots instead. And he tries to help them by chopping firewood in the night and leaving it at their door in the morning. He realizes that they are communicating through speech, and he longs to learn to do this, too, but he can't figure it out. But he does pick up certain words, and he learns that the woman is named Agatha. The young man is named Felix. One day, the monster sees his own reflection in a pool of water, and he's horrified. He realizes why every everyone runs from him when they see him. But he hopes that if he can learn their language and speak gently and kindly, then perhaps these people will overlook his appearance. So eventually, spring comes, and the monster is hopeful that soon he will be able to reveal himself to this family. Okay, I'm going to read 3 comments today. The first one comes from Pam Shroud. Pam writes, good morning, Faith. This is such an insightful book on the absolute importance of parents to train and love their children. I love that this creature in our book has found some people to learn from, but more to come. The second comes from Michelle Watson. Wow, this poor creature. What a difference between his narrative style and Victor's. Without being able to quite put my finger on why, I get the impression that Victor is telling his tale with the express aim of gaining his listeners sympathy and positioning himself as a victim of fate. But here, the creature's tale invokes real and sincere sympathy without asking for it. He straightforwardly describes his pain, loneliness and hunger. And it's so very sad. Yet the creature tells the tale without self pity. And the last one comes from Karen Jett. She writes, I just listened to chapters 11 and 12. I'm feeling more and more sympathy for the creature. I wonder if he wants Victor to make him nicer looking so people won't run away screaming when they see him. I still marvel at how different the story is compared to how the movies portray this book. Okay, so, yes, I'm so glad that you guys are feeling sympathetic toward the monster, because that's how I feel about him too. You know, I think for modern readers especially, but even, I would imagine for readers contemporary to Mary Shelley, I think it's a huge twist that it turns out that Victor's creation is not in fact evil. That he's not a depraved wretch, as Victor likes to call him, but a being worthy of our sympathy and attention and even love. You know, we've been in Victor's head for so long, he's been our narrator for so long that even as we've come to find him, like, at best, annoying and at worst truly in the wrong, here, even as we've come, many of us, more and more, to dislike him, we still kind of believed him, that the creature was just a zombie. We've talked about how if Victor had only cared for it and loved it and all of this, it could have been different. But different how? What is it capable of? We haven't really discussed that. We haven't really known. And I think until this moment, or maybe the moment in chapter 10 where he speaks to Victor for the first time. I think we've been thinking of him more as a sort of like, unformed child or even a sort of unloved animal, like a dog or something that can love and be loved and be good and bad or whatever, but not think or reason or form complex thoughts and feelings. But, I mean, now we see that Victor was wrong. Like, so, so wrong. Okay, not to put too fine a point on it, but this guy, this quote unquote monster, is a man. I know that that's really dicey theologically or even just philosophically. But the character that Mary Shelley is presenting us with now, this creature that is now our narrator, he's a person. I don't think you can deny that, at least narratively. I mean, we can debate whether it really is a person, whether it's possible for it to have a soul, and all kinds of other really fun questions. But I think based purely on what we're getting in the book, this creation of Victors is a human being in everything that matters. He thinks, he feels, he loves, he despairs, he yearns, he delights. I mean, he's human. And, boy, what a thorny problem that poses for us, right? But I think Michelle's comment about narrative style is really astute and really important here.
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There is a distinct shift in voice.
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That happens between Victor's narration and the creature's narration. It's not just that I'm doing a slightly different voice when I'm reading these chapters. It's really there in the writing. And what is it? What makes these chapters feel different than the chapters that came before? If this were a class, I'd pause here. Then I'd wait for your hand to go up. But it's not a class, and I can't see your hands even if they are up. So I'm just gonna answer for you. It's that the melodrama is gone. It's just completely been swept away. The creature is passionate, he's thoughtful, he's telling us about his feelings. But the kind of, oh, woe is me of it all, it's just gone. It's a much more, dare I say it, realistic voice, a much more human voice. You know, a few of you have been writing in to say over the last couple of weeks that you don't feel as connected to these characters and this story the way that you did with the other books that we've done on this show. And I've been writing back to say that part of that might be that we don't actually like our narrator. That certainly holds us at a distance as readers. But I think more than that, it's the melodrama. How can you truly believe in and come to like or even love a character who is like, oh, dear lady.
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Oh, Justine, our horrible fate, I want.
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To die, or whatever it is? No one talks like that. It's not realistic. So you don't totally connect with the characters because you can't actually Picture knowing them in real life. Whereas I don't know about you, but I feel deeply connected to, like, Jane Eyre or deeply connected to Marian Halcomb. These characters who feel like real people and really let you into their world and their inner lives. So we've been held at a distance for, like, 10 chapters now by Victor's melodramatic carryings on. And while the melodrama is fun and it definitely adds to the vibes, and it's part of what makes this book the wonderful, brilliant mess that it is, it does hold us at a distance. And now suddenly, it's gone, and we get this kind of quiet, heartfelt narration from a narrator who feels much more real. And I don't know about you, but the minute I get to these chapters, I think something along the lines of, oh, you. I know you like, hello, a friend. A real and poignant voice is speaking to us through the pages, and what a relief it is. And so I kind of cling onto it in this wilderness of melodrama, right? Finally, something real and true and relatable. And I feel an immediate sort of tenderness and protectiveness for the creature that I didn't feel for Victor. And I know that many of you do, too, because you're writing in to tell me so. But, I mean, what the heck, right? This is the monster. This is the murderer of William. This is the being that should never have been. We all agreed he shouldn't have come into being. It was wrong of Victor to create. Create him. Except now he's the first character we've encountered in this novel that we can actually relate to. So what gives, right? I'm not going to answer that now, but I think it's worth just noting and also worth allowing ourselves to acknowledge that we do feel more of a kinship to the creature than to Victor. I mean, if we do, and if you don't, that's okay, too. But it's the way that I feel, and it's the way it seems like many of you are feeling based on the letters that you're writing to me. But I want to just take a look now at what exactly the creature is telling us, because, like Pam is alluding to in her letter when she talks about children needing parents. I think what we got in those last two chapters was a really kind of beautiful and poignant description of essentially becoming human. Right. The thing that stands out for me, listening to the creature's story, is the slow progression from just kind of base urges like hunger and thirst and tiredness and things like that. Through insight and thought and awareness of feeling and wants to connection to other beings, to love, to a desire for speech. It's like a kind of fast forwarded version of growing up from an infant to a child to a man, right? So the creature tells us that at first he just was kind of a bunch of senses. Here's what he says. No distinct ideas occupied my mind.
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All was confused.
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I felt light and hunger and thirst and darkness. Innumerable sounds rang in my ears and on all sides. Various scents saluted me, right? So he's just kind of inundated with light and sound and physical feeling, sort of like you might imagine a baby is right after being born. But over time, he starts to differentiate his senses, right? He realizes he can stop feeling hungry by eating, he can stop feeling tired by sleeping. And then he starts to try to fit himself into the world around him. And in doing that, very quickly, he starts to realize that he's not like anything else around him, right? First it's the birds. He tries to imitate the sounds that the birds make. And he realizes that he makes totally different and kind of awful sounds, right? Here's what he says. 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. So he's got physical sensations and he's learning what they mean. He's realizing what he isn't. He's trying to sort out what kind of thing he is, what kind of creature he is. And then his mind kind of comes online. His thinking self wakes up, essentially. Here's what he says. My sensations had by this time become distinct, and my mind received every day additional ideas. So not only can he feel physical things, but now he can also think about them. And with this progression, he acquires more and more tools that set him apart from animals, right? He gets fire, clothes, food, shelter. So he has no parents to teach him things. But he is what he is, a human being, or a human like being, if we don't feel comfortable calling him human. He is what he is. So he finds he has these basic needs and he learns how to fulfill them. But the more thinking he does, the more aware he becomes that he's a being set apart. He isn't a bird, so he's sorted that out. But he's also not a man. The more he enters the world of humanity, the more he realizes that for some reason as yet unknown to him, he can't enter it, right? So he comes to a town and this is what happens. He says the children shrieked and one of the women fainted. The whole village was roused. Some fled, some attacked me. Okay, so he thinks, he feels, he reasons he seems human, but there's something about him that makes other humans run away from him. And later, when he does finally see his own reflection and is able to compare it to the way that the cottagers look, he understands that there's something very, very wrong with him. Right? Here's what he says. I had admired the perfect forms of my cottagers, their grace, beauty and delicate complexions. But how was I terrified when I viewed myself, 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. Okay, the monster that I am. Right. But again, who's really the monster here? That's one of our big questions for this book. And here we have the quote unquote monster calling himself a monster because he sees that for some reason that he doesn't understand, even though he thinks and feels and loves the way that people do, he is not a person. I mean, oh my gosh, don't you just want to give him hug? Okay. But as Pam points out in her letter, the creature does find a way to be parented, in a sense. He finds these lovely people, this father and his two adult children, who are sad and very poor, but also somehow kind of upper class seeming, right? They aren't the kind of coarse country folk. They're learned, well spoken, they're gentle. And the creature comes to love them. And that's his kind of final transformation to humanity, right? He finds that he can love his fellow beings, and he longs to know them and to communicate with them and live among them. Here is what he what chiefly struck me was the gentle manners of these people.
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And I long to join them, but.
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Dared not so unlike an animal, let's say. The creature is able to reason. And when he realizes, for example, that stealing their food is making them unhappy, he stops doing it. And he's able to understand that he can help them by chopping wood and leaving it at their door. And he's delighted that they're so surprised and happy by this. And he dreams of being accepted into.
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This little family, right?
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Of finding his own place in the world and specifically within a family. He dreams of overcoming the prejudice against his appearance and being accepted by the cottagers. Here's what he 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 demeanor and conciliating words, I should first win their favor and afterwards, their love. Okay, so this is not a monster. This is an outcast longing for acceptance. It's a person who, through no fault of his own, has been pushed out of the circle of human community and is longing. He's yearning to find a way in. But unlike a person who maybe fell out with his family and hopes to return or something like that, this is a being who never should have been. This is a being who isn't human, who doesn't belong, and who looks so frightening that people run screaming at the very sight of him. And because of this, the creature has come to feel that he must be an animal. Right? He calls this hovel where he's been hiding his kennel. And he describes the cottagers as his human neighbors, which implies that he is not a human. So he's learning via experience that he is not the same, that he is less than, that he is no better than an animal. But, oh, my gosh, he's desperate to be human. And he sees that speech and reading, these modes of human communication, and these are the key to it all. But he can't figure out how to do them because he has no one to teach him. He's fallen in love with this family, but the family doesn't even know he exists. And because he's smart and not an animal, he sees that he can't reveal himself to these people until he can talk to them, because maybe through speech, he can help them overlook his horrible appearance and see the truth of him underneath. So I think there are two questions. Now, basically, one is, will he be able to do it right? Will he learn to speak? And if he does and reveals himself, will these cottagers that he's come to love accept him? And the other question is Karen's question, what is the creature going to ask Victor to do once he's finished his tale? Remember, he told Victor to listen to what he had to say, and then he was going to ask him for something. So Karen is guessing it's that he wants Victor to make him less hideous so that he can pass for human and live a human life? And I think that's a great guess, but it's important to remember that that's where we're leading. The creature has a request for Victor and this tale he's telling is leading up to that. So the creature is still our narrator. And I don't know about you, but he is my favorite narrator that we have had so far and I really relate to him and feel for him much more than any of the other characters in the book so far. And now the tension is building, right? We know he will eventually learn to speak because he's speaking very eloquently now. So how will he do that and what is going to happen when he does? So let's keep listening, right? It's still the creature talking to us, so let's get back to him. And of course, don't forget to write to me. It's Faith K. Moore.com you click on Contact. Send me all your questions and thoughts. I love to get them. I love to hear them. And you can also scroll into the show notes and find the link there to contact me. I hope that you will all right, let's get started with chapters 13 and 14 of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. It's story time.
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Chapter 13 I now hasten to the more moving part of my story. I shall relate events that impressed me with feelings which, from what I had been, have made me what I am. Spring advanced rapidly. The weather became fine and the skies cloudless. It surprised me that what before was desert and gloomy should now bloom with the most beautiful flowers and verdure. My senses were gratified and refreshed by a thousand scents of delight and a thousand sights of beauty. It was on one of these days, when my cottagers periodically rested from labor, the old man played on his guitar, and the children listened to him, that I observed. The countenance of Felix was melancholy beyond expression. He sighed frequently, and once his father paused in his music, and I conjectured by his manner that he inquired the cause of his son's sorrow. Felix replied in a cheerful accent, and the old man was recommencing his music when someone tapped at the door. It was a lady on horseback, accompanied by a countryman as a guide. The lady was dressed in a dark suit and covered with a thick black veil. Agatha asked a question to which the stranger only replied by pronouncing in a sweet accent the name of Felix. Her voice was musical, but unlike that of either of my friends. On hearing this word, Felix came up hastily to the lady, who, when she saw him, threw up her veil, and I beheld a countenance of angelic beauty and expression. Her hair of a shining raven, black and curiously braided. Her eyes were dark but gentle. Although animated, her features of irregular proportion, and her complexion wondrously fair, each cheek tinged with a lovely pink. Felix seemed ravished with delight when he saw her. Every trait of sorrow vanished from his face, and it instantly expressed a degree of ecstatic joy of which I could hardly have believed it capable. His eyes sparkled as his cheek flushed with pleasure, and at that moment I thought him as beautiful as the stranger. She appeared affected by different feelings. Wiping a few tears from her lovely eyes, she held out her hand to Felix, who kissed it rapturously and called her as well as I could distinguish his sweet Arabian. She did not appear to understand him, but smiled. He assisted her to dismount, and, dismissing her guide, conducted her into the cottage. Some conversation took place between him and his father, and the young stranger knelt at the old man's feet and would have kissed his hand, but he raised her and embraced her affectionately. I soon perceived that although the stranger uttered articulate sounds and appeared to have a language of her own, she was neither understood by nor herself understood the cottagers. They made many signs which I did not comprehend, But I saw that her presence diffused gladness through the cottage, dispelling their so as the sun dissipates the morning mists. Felix seemed particularly happy, and with smiles of delight welcomed his Arabian Agatha. The ever gentle Agatha kissed the hands of the lovely stranger and, pointing to her brother, made signs which appeared to me to mean that he had been sorrowful until she came. Some hours passed thus, while they by their countenances expressed joy, the cause of which I did not comprehend. Presently I found by the frequent recurrence of some sound which the stranger repeated after them, that she was endeavoring to learn their language. And the idea instantly occurred to me that I should make use of the same instructions to the same end. The Stranger learned about 20 words at the first lesson. Most of them, indeed were those which I had before understood. But I profited by the others. As night came on, Agatha and the Arabian retired early. When they separated, Felix kissed the hand of the stranger and said, good night, sweet Saffy. He sat up much longer, conversing with his father, but by the frequent repetition of her name I conjectured that their lovely guest was the subject of their conversation. I ardently desired to understand them and bent every faculty toward that purpose, but found it utterly impossible. The next morning Felix went out to his work, and after the usual occupations of Agatha were finished, the Arabian sat at the feet of the old man, and taking his guitar, played some airs so entrancingly beautiful that they at once drew tears of sorrow and delight. From my eyes she sang, and her voice flowed in a rich cadence, swelling or dying away, like a nightingale of the woods. When she had finished, she gave the guitar to Agatha, who at first declined it. She played a simple air, and her voice accompanied it in sweet accents. But unlike the wondrous strain of the stranger, the old man appeared enraptured and said some words which Agatha endeavoured to explain to Safie, and by which he appeared to wish to express that she bestowed on him the greatest delight by her music. The days now passed as peaceably as before, with the sole alteration that joy had taken place of sadness in the countenances of my friends. Safi was always gay and happy. She and I improved rapidly in the knowledge of language, so that in two months I began to comprehend most of the words uttered by my protectors. In the meanwhile also, the black ground was covered with herbage, and the green banks interspersed with innumerable flowers, sweet to the scent and the eyes stars of pale radiance among the moonlight woods. The sun became warmer, the nights clear and balmy, and my nocturnal rambles were an extreme pleasure to me, although they were considerably shortened by the late setting and early rising of the sun. For I never ventured abroad during daylight, fearful of meeting with the same treatment I had formerly endured in the first village which I entered. So he's saying he can only go out during the night so that he won't be seen, so now that it's.
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Summer he can't go out as much.
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Because it's lighter longer. My days were spent in close attention that I might more speedily master the language. And I may boast that I improved more rapidly than the Arab, who understood very little and conversed in broken accents, whilst I comprehended and could imitate almost every word that was spoken. While I improved in speech, I also learned the science of letters as it was taught to the stranger, and this opened before me a wide field of wonder and delight. The book from which Felix instructed Safi was Volney's Ruins of Empires. I should not have understood the purport of this book had not Felix, in reading it, given very minute explanations. He had chosen this work, he said, because the declamatory style was framed in imitation of the Eastern authors. Through this work I obtained a cursory knowledge of history and a view of the several empires at present existing in the world. It gave me an insight into the manners and governments and religions of the different nations of the earth. I heard of the slothful Asiatics of The stupendous genius and mental activity of the Grecians, of the wars and wonderful virtue of the early Romans, of their subsequent degenerating, of the decline of that mighty empire of chivalry, Christianity and kings. I heard of the discovery of the American hemisphere and wept with Safie over the hapless fate of its original inhabitants. These wonderful narrations inspired me with strange feelings. Was man indeed at once so powerful, so virtuous and magnificent, yet so vicious and base? He appeared at one time a mere scion of the evil principle. And at another, as all that can be conceived of noble and godlike. To be a great and virtuous man appeared the highest honour that can befall a sensitive being. To be base and vicious, as many on record have been, appeared the lowest degradation, a condition more abject than that of the blind mole or harmless worm. For a long time I could not conceive how one man could go forth to murder his fellow, or even why there were laws and governments. But when I heard details of vice and bloodshed, my wonder ceased and I turned away with disgust and loathing. Every conversation of the cottagers now opened new wonders to me. While I listened to the instructions which Felix bestowed upon the Arabian, the strange system of human society was explained to me. I heard of the division of property, of immense wealth and squalid poverty, of rank, descent and noble blood. The words induced me to turn towards myself. I learned that the possessions most esteemed by your fellow creatures Were high and unsullied descent united with riches. Meaning the highest people in the social.
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System are those who come from good.
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Families and possess large fortunes. A man might be respected with only one of these advantages, but without either he was considered, except in very rare circumstances, as a vagabond and a slave doomed to waste his powers for the profits of the chosen few. And what was I of my creation and creator? I was absolutely ignorant. But I knew that I possessed no money, no friends, no kind of property. I was, besides, endued with a figure hideously deformed and loathsome. I was not even the same nature as man. I was more agile than they and could subsist upon coarser diet. I bore the extremes of heat and cold with less injury to my frame. My stature far exceeded theirs. When I looked around, I saw and heard of none like me. Was I then a monster, a blot upon the earth from which all men fled and whom all men disowned? I cannot describe to you the agony that these reflections inflicted upon me. I tried to dispel them. But sorrow only increased with knowledge. Oh, that I had forever remained in my native wood, nor known, nor felt beyond the sensations of hunger, thirst, and heat. Of what a strange nature is knowledge. It clings to the mind when it has once seized on it like a lichen on the rock. I wished sometimes to shake off all thought and feeling, But I learned that there was but one means to overcome the sensation of pain and and that was death. A state which I feared, yet did not understand. I admired virtue and good feelings, and loved the gentle manners and amiable qualities of my cottagers. But I was shut out from intercourse with them, except through means which I obtained by stealth, when I was unseen and unknown, and which rather increased than satisfied the desire I had of becoming one among my fellows. The gentle words of Agatha and the animated smiles of the charming Arabian were not for me. The mild exhortations of the old man and the lively conversation of the loved Felix were not for me. Miserable, unhappy wretch. Other lessons were impressed upon me even more deeply. I heard of the difference of sexes and the birth and growth of children. How the father doted on the smiles of the infant and the lively sallies of the older child. How all the life and cares of the mother were wrapped up in the precious charge. How the mind of youth expanded and gained knowledge of brother, sister, and all the various relationships which bind one human being to another in mutual bonds. But where were my friends and relations? No father had watched my infant days. No mother had blessed me with smiles and caresses. Or if they had all. My past life was now a blot, a blind vacancy in which I distinguished nothing. From my earliest remembrance I had been, as I then was in height and proportion. I had never yet seen a being resembling me, or who claimed any intercourse with me. What was I? The question again recurred, to be answered only with groans. I will soon explain to what these feelings tended. But allow me now to return to the cottagers whose story excited in me such various feelings of indignation, delight, and wonder, but which all terminated in additional love and reverence for my protectors. For so I loved, in an innocent, half painful self deceit to call them. Chapter 14. Some time elapsed before I learned the history of my friends. It was one which could not fail to impress itself deeply on my mind, unfolding, as it did a number of circumstances, each interesting and wonderful to one so utterly inexperienced as I was. The name of the old man was de Lacy. He was descended from a good family in France, where he had lived for many years in affluence, respected by his superiors and beloved by his equals. His son was bred in the service of his country, and Agatha had ranked with ladies of the highest distinction. A few months before my arrival, they had lived in a large and luxurious city called Paris, surrounded by friends and possessed of every enjoyment which virtue, refinement of intellect or taste, accompanied by a moderate fortune could afford. The father of Safie had been the cause of their ruin. He was a Turkish merchant and had inhabited Paris for many years. When, for some reason which I could not learn, he became obnoxious to the government, meaning the government viewed him as a threat. He was seized and cast into prison. The very day that Safi arrived from Constantinople to join him, he was tried and condemned to death. The injustice of his sentence was very flagrant. All Paris was indignant, and it was judged that his religion and wealth, rather than the crime alleged against him, had been the cause of his condemnation. Felix had accidentally been present at the trial. His horror and indignation were uncontrollable. When he heard the decision of the court, he made at that moment a solemn vow to deliver him and then looked around for the means.
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So Felix vowed to get Safi's father.
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Out of jail and was trying to figure out how he could do it. After many fruitless attempts to gain admittance to the prison, he found a strongly grated window in an unguarded part of the building which lighted the dungeon of the unfortunate Mohammedan, who, loaded with chains, waited in despair the execution of the barbarous sentence. Felix visited the great at night and made known to the prisoner his intentions in his favor. The Turkish, amazed and delighted, endeavored to kindle the zeal of his deliverer by promises of reward and wealth. Felix rejected his offers with contempt. Yet when he saw the lovely Safi, who was allowed to visit her father and who by her gestures expressed her lively gratitude, the youth could not help owning to his own mind that the captive possessed a treasure which would fully reward his toil and hazard.
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So Felix doesn't want a financial reward.
- [37:59]
A
For freeing this man, but he hopes he can one day marry the daughter. The Turk quickly perceived the impression that his daughter had made on the heart of Felix and endeavored to secure him more entirely in his interests by the promise of her hand in marriage so soon as he should be conveyed to a place of safety. Felix was too delicate to accept this offer, yet he looked forward to the probability of the event as to the consummation of his happiness.
- [38:27]
B
So Felix won't accept Saffy as like a prize for freeing her father, but.
- [38:31]
A
He does hope to marry her one day anyway. During the ensuing days, while the preparations were going forward for the escape of the merchant, the zeal of Felix was warmed by several letters that he received from this lovely girl who found means to express her thoughts in the language of her lover. By the aid of an old man, a servant of her father, who understood French, she thanked him in the most ardent terms for his intended services towards her parent, and at the same time she gently deplored her own fate. I have copies of these letters, for I found means during my residence in the hovel to procure the implements of writing, and the letters were often in the hands of Felix or Agatha. Before I depart, I will give them to you. They will prove the truth of my tales. But at present, as the sun is already far declined, I shall only have time to repeat the substance of them to you. Safi related that her mother was a Christian Arab, seized and made a slave by the Turks. Recommended by her beauty, she had won the heart of the father of Safi who married her. The young girl spoke in high and enthusiastic terms of her mother, who, born in freedom, spurned the bondage to which she was now reduced. She instructed her daughter in the tenets of her religion and taught her to aspire to higher powers of intellect and an independence of spirit forbidden to the female followers of Muhammad. This lady died, but her lessons were indelibly impressed on the mind of Safi, who, sickened at the prospect of again returning to Asia and being immured within the walls of a harem, allowed only to occupy herself with infantile amusements ill suited to the temper of her soul, now accustomed to grand ideas and a noble emulation for virtue. The prospect of marrying a Christian and remaining in a country where women were allowed to take a rank in society was enchanting to her.
- [40:35]
B
So Saffie wants to marry Felix because.
- [40:37]
A
Otherwise she'll have to go back to Asia and enter a harem. The day for the execution of the Turk was fixed, but on the night previous to it he quitted his prison and before morning was distant, many leagues from Paris. Felix had procured passports in the name of his father, sister and himself. He had previously communicated his plan to the former, who aided the deceit by quitting his house under the pretense of a journey and concealed himself with his daughter in an obscure part of Paris. Felix conducted the fugitives through France to Lyon and across Mont Ceni to Leghorn, where the merchant had Decided to wait.
- [41:18]
B
A favorable opportunity of passing into some.
- [41:20]
A
Part of the Turkish dominions. Safi resolved to remain with her father until the moment of his departure. Before which time the Turk renewed his promise that she should be united to his deliverer. And Felix remained with them in expectation of that event. And in the meantime he enjoyed the society of the Arabian, who exhibited towards him the simplest and tenderest affection. They conversed with one another through the means of an interpreter and sometimes with the interpretation of looks. And Safie sang to him the divine airs of her native country. The Turk allowed this intimacy to take place and encouraged the hopes of the youthful lovers. While in his heart he had formed far other plans. He loathed the idea that his daughter should be united to a Christian. But he feared the resentment of Felix if he should appear lukewarm. For he knew that he was still in the power of his deliverer. If he should choose to betray him to the Italian state which they inhabited. He revolved a thousand plans by which he should be enabled to prolong the deceit until it might be no longer necessary. Necessary and secretly to take his daughter with him when he departed.
- [42:33]
B
So Safi's father wants to go back on his agreement that she can marry Felix. But he can't just say no, since Felix is still helping them to escape.
- [42:41]
A
His plans were facilitated by the news which arrived from Paris. The government of France was greatly enraged at the escape of their victim and spared no pains to detect and punish his deliverer. The plot of Felix was quickly discovered and De Lacey and Agatha were thrown into prison. The news reached Felix and roused him from his dream of pleasure. His blind and aged father and his gentle sister lay in a noisome dungeon while he enjoyed the free air and the society of her whom he loved. This idea was torture to him. He quickly arranged with the Turk that if the latter should find a favorable opportunity for escape, before Felix could return to Italy, Saffie should remain as a boarder at a convent at Leghorn.
- [43:27]
B
So Felix is going to rush back to try to free his father and sister. And if Saffie's father is able to escape before he comes back, Saffie should go and live in a convent until Felix comes back to get her.
- [43:37]
A
And then, quitting the lovely Arabian, he hastened to Paris and delivered himself up to the vengeance of the law, hoping to free De Lacey and Agatha. By this proceeding he did not succeed. They remained confined for five months before the trial took place, the result of which deprived them of their fortune and condemned them to a perpetual Exile from their native country.
- [44:01]
B
Okay. So Felix, Agatha and their father were.
- [44:03]
A
Eventually sentenced to exile.
- [44:04]
B
Without their fortune.
- [44:06]
A
They found a miserable asylum in the cottage in Germany where I discovered them. Felix soon learned that the treacherous Turk for whom he and his family endured such unheard of oppression, on discovering that his deliverer was thus reduced to poverty and ruin, became a traitor to good feeling and honor and had quitted Italy with his daughter, insultingly sending Felix a pittance of money to aid him, as he said in some plan of future maidens. Such were the events that preyed on the heart of Felix and rendered him, when I first saw him, the most miserable of his family. He could have endured poverty. And while this distress had been the meed of his virtue, he gloried in it. But the ingratitude of the Turk and the loss of his beloved Safie were misfortunes more bitter and irreparable. The arrival of the Arabian now infused new life into his soul. When the news reached Leghorn that Felix was deprived of his wealth and rank, the merchant commanded his daughter to see think no more of her lover, but to prepare to return to her native country. The generous nature of Safi was outraged by this command. She attempted to expostulate with her father, but he left her angrily reiterating his tyrannical mandate. A few days after, the Turk entered his daughter's apartment and told her hastily that he had reason to believe that his residence at Leghorn had been divulged and that he should speedily be delivered up to the French government. He had consequently hired a vessel to convey him to Constantinople, for which city he should sail in a few hours. He intended to leave his daughter under the care of a confidential servant to follow at her leisure with the greater part of his property, which had not yet arrived at Leghorn. When alone, Safi resolved in her own mind the plan of conduct that it would become her to pursue in this emergency. A residence in Turkey was abhorrent to her. Her religion and her feelings were alike. Averse to it by some papers of her father which fell into her hands. She heard of the exile of her lover and learnt the name of the spot where he then resided. She hesitated some time, but at length she found her determination. Taking with her some jewels that belonged to her and a sum of money. She quitted Italy with an attendant, a native of Leghorn, but who understood the common language of Turkey and departed for Germany. She arrived in safety at a town about 20 leagues from the cottage of De Lacey. When her attendant fell dangerously ill, Safie nursed her with the most devoted affection, but the poor girl died, and the Arabian was left alone, unacquainted with the language of the country and utterly ignorant of the customs of the world. She fell, however, into good hands. The Italian had mentioned the name of the spot for which they were bound, and after her death, the woman of the house in which they had lived took care that Saffie should arrive in safety at the cottage of her lover.
- [47:18]
B
Thank you so much for listening.
- [47:20]
A
I'd love to know what you thought of the chapters.
- [47:22]
B
Is there anything you'd like me to clarify?
- [47:24]
A
Did something particularly interest you?
- [47:27]
B
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.
- [47:38]
A
Entries at the start of the next episode.
- [47:40]
B
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.
- [47:55]
A
This is an independent podcast. It's produced, recorded and marketed by me, so I need your help.
- [48:01]
B
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.
- [48:12]
A
If you are able to support the.
- [48:14]
B
Show financially, there's a link in the Show Notes to make a donation.
- [48:17]
A
I would really, really appreciate it.
- [48:20]
B
Alright everyone, Storytime is over.
- [48:23]
A
To be continued.