B (3:34)

You don't have to talk.

A (3:35)

You can just listen. But you also can be a part of it. We talk about the book, but we also talk about other things. I answer questions so you can ask me anything. We do that on there. And this time it'll be fun because we'll talk about the end of Frankenstein, but we can also talk about the new book that we're going to be starting for the Christmas Spectacular, because at that point we'll know what it is. So I think it's going to be a really fun time and I hope.

B (3:57)

That you can join us.

A (3:58)

It would be lovely to hear some new voices there. But I'm also always so happy to chat to all my old friends, so hope to see you there. It's Tuesday, October 28th at 8:00pm Eastern. All right, so last time we read chapters 13 and 14 of Frankenstein. Today we're reading chapters 15 and 16. And so we've got a lot to talk about. I've got a couple letters to read, but first, let's just remember what we read last time. Here is the recap. Okay, so where we left off, the monster is still telling his story. He says that eventually a young Arabian woman named Safi shows up at the cottage, and when she does everyone? Especially Felix, seems to become happ happier. Sappho doesn't speak the same language as the family and so Felix teaches her from a book about history. The monster listens to this too, and he finally learns how to speak. He also learns about history and the world and society. And in this way he realizes that he is not human and he has no society of his own. The monster also figures out the family's story and how they are connected with Saffy and he explains it to Victor. So the family is called the de Lacey family and they used to be very wealthy. Sapphire, Safi's father, was a Turk who was wrongfully accused of a crime. Felix was so horrified by this that he decided to help the father escape from prison. In coming in contact with this Turk, Felix fell in love with his daughter Saffie. The Turk offered him Saffie as a reward for setting him free. And Felix didn't want to take her as a prize, but he did hope that they would eventually marry. So Felix helped Safie and her father to escape into Italy. But Felix's role in the escape was discovered and his whole family's wealth was was confiscated. And they were first imprisoned and then exiled from the country. Once the Turk was free, he decided that he wouldn't let Saffy marry Felix because Felix was a Christian. But Saffie's mother had been a Christian and she didn't want to go back with her father who would put her in a harem. So eventually she escaped from her father and came to be with Felix. Okay, I'm going to read two comments this time. The first one is a bit long, but I think it's worth reading the whole thing. And then I have another one after that. So the first one comes from Nathan Black. Nathan writes, I think it's interesting to compare Felix's actions to that of Victor's in how he handled Justine versus how Felix handled the Arabian. Felix gave up everything for this innocent victim. Victor was kinda like, well, it's too hard, so no, I'm not gonna do anything. It definitely makes me reconsider on whether Victor's handling of Justine should have put me immediately in the anti Victor camp then. Because I certainly see your point that it's a matter of principle. Victor could have and should have done more. Second thought, it's interesting how Victor assumed the creature is an awful murderer. But in this chapter we actually see the creature shudder at the idea of murder and evil. You actually get the sense that in this chapter at least the creature is telling us the truth. That he would have been a good creature if someone had properly guided him. Even without this guidance. He's learning not to steal, he's learning to do good things for people. He hates killing people, and he actually is a fairly moral person. And the next one comes from Ann Morris. She writes, I had no idea what this story was really about. It turns out to be a lesson in looking on the heart and not the outward appearance. I sympathize with the creature observing all the good things in life as an outsider. I, too, want to give him a hug. Okay, so I do think that we need to address, at least for a minute, this whole complicated backstory we get about Felix's girlfriend, basically. And I picked Nathan's letter. Well, okay, I picked it for a couple of reasons, but one of the reasons is I love that he was able to relate this whole convoluted situation with Saffy's father and the imprisonment and all of this to the story as a whole. And I love what Nathan is saying here, that we can compare Felix's actions to Victor's. And it just throws into further relief the ways in which Victor has been acting purely for his own interests in. Even when he says that he isn't. So given that I am clearly teammonster, I love this comment, and regardless of my team, I think it's really astute and very elegant literary analysis. But all of that said, I do think that this whole thing with Saffy is essentially a somewhat clunky plot contrivance. Right? So I said way back at the beginning that Mary Shelley loves her backstories and that some of the backstories are there for a reason, like when Elizabeth wrote to Victor about Justine, and then Justine showed up in the story, and knowing about her helped us to feel sympathy for her immediately. But some of the backstories, at least in my opinion, could just as easily be cut out of the story altogether. And I think this whole thing about Saffy and Felix and Sapphy's father, I think this is one of those instances. I don't think that narratively it has.

B (8:56)

Much to do with anything, although analytically.

A (8:58)

We could use it, as Nathan did, to cast a further negative light on Victor. And I'm all for that. But I do think that the inclusion of Saffy into the story does serve a narrative purpose. But that purpose is to create a scenario in which the creature, without revealing himself or having any contact with human beings, can learn to speak and to read. Right from a writing perspective, if you introduce a character who needs to learn how to speak English and who writes in a different Alphabet and therefore needs to learn how to read, then this is a way to make it somewhat plausible that our character, who doesn't know how to speak or read, could learn to speak and read without being actually taught how. Now, yes, the creature learns all sorts of things very, very quickly, and it's hard to imagine that this could really happen. Not to mention the fact that he probably wouldn't actually be able to really see the book that they were reading out of, given the fact that he's looking in at them through, like, a crack in the wall or whatever. So he wouldn't learn to read this way. Probably. But I think that we just have.

B (9:59)

To go with it, right?

A (10:00)

She's tried to make it somewhat believable that the creature has learned to speak and read, as opposed to having him just somehow like, acquire these skills out of things thin air. So I think we need to give her points for trying, suspend our disbelief, and just accept that the creature can now speak and read. And I also give you permission to essentially forget about Saffy's whole saga. I mean, if we were in a literature class, we could look at several things about it. We really could, like class distinctions, racial distinctions, religious attitudes. I mean, there's a lot in there that we could look at. But this isn't a literature class. We're just trying to enjoy a good book. So feel free to just kind of go, well, that was weird, and get back to our pal the creature. Or if you're interested, feel free to spend some time with that bit of the story and see if, like Nathan, you can find some value in it that corresponds to the story more broadly. I'm sure that you can if you do, but for now, let's move on and take a look at what it.

B (10:57)

Means for the creature that he can now understand language.

A (11:00)

Okay, so last time we were looking at the way in which the creature's experiences after being brought to life, kind.

B (11:08)

Of traced a trajectory toward humanity. He went from being a bundle of.

A (11:13)

Sensations to thinking and beginning to reason, to using tools, to trying to fit himself into the framework of humanity. All of this culminated, last time in love. Right. He came to love these cottagers, and this was kind of his final shift from something more, I guess, animalistic to something more human. He learned to love and to wish to be loved in return. But now he's going even a step further. He's having thoughts and feelings about humanity more broadly and wondering about his place in the world. Right. But he's also becoming Almost learned, right? He's gone from this bundle of physical sensations to someone who knows. Here's a quote, a cursory knowledge of history and a view of the several empires at present existing in the world. Then he says, it gave me an insight into the manners, governments and religions of the different nations of. Of the earth. I mean, that's probably more than can be said for a lot of people that were around at that time. So he's not just a person rather than an animal. He's like a scholar and a deep thinker. And what is he thinking about? Well, he's thinking about what he is and what he's not. Because the more he learns, the more he sees that he isn't human. He feels human, he thinks like a human, he yearns to be human, but he isn't. He sees that he wasn't born the way humans were born, that he doesn't have relationships the way humans have. He has no father or mother or friends. Here's what he says. He says, but where were my friends and relations? No father had watched my infant days. No mother had blessed me with smiles and caresses. I mean, it's what we've been talking about all along, right? He was made unnaturally. He has no parents, no one to teach him the things he needs to learn and to be for him a kind of spirit, soft landing place, a sense of security. No one to give him, a sense that he is loved and wanted and valued. And so here is what he concludes. He says, 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 of the same nature as man. Okay, so he's not a man, but he is a man, right? I mean, in all the things that matter, he is a man. And not just any man. He's a gentle, thinking, feeling, yearning, eloquent, scholarly man. Like if he wasn't a creature created in a lab who looked like a giant walking corpse, we'd think he was a great guy. I mean, wouldn't we? But he does look like that. And he was created like that. And we can't get around it, and neither can he. And because he can't get around it, here is what he wants to know. He says, was I then a monster, a blot upon the earth from which all men fled and whom all men disowned? Okay? So does the fact of his creation and the fact of his appearance make him a monster. And I mean, this gets to Anne's comment, right? Do we judge him because of the way he looks? Do we judge him because of how he was created? Or do we judge him based on what he is or right now? I mean, I'm not gonna answer that definitively in this moment.

B (14:30)

You decide.

A (14:31)

That's what we're doing here. That's the point of this book in a lot of ways. But for the creature, this realization that there is this whole intercourse of humanity, this whole human community that starts with families but extends outward into towns and nations and the world, this realization that there is this whole world of relationships that is for some reason denied to him, well, it's devastating as it would be to any of us. Right here is what he says 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 that was death. A state which I feared, yet did not understand. Right. He wishes he'd never learned to be human. He wishes he could go back to just being a bundle of sensation. But what he doesn't wish is that he was dead. Okay, Life, even this life, is precious to him. And I think that's really important. He doesn't see himself as a monster, but he understands that other people see him as a monster. And it's this that is so painful to him. But I want to end by touching for a moment on Nathan's second point about whether or not the creature is capable of murder. So. So Victor obviously believes that it was the creature that killed his brother William. And it looks pretty likely that it was. I know some of you have been writing in to say you don't think that it was the creature who did this. And that is possible. We don't have 100% definitive proof, but the creature was there at the time. And he told Victor that if Victor doesn't do whatever he's going to ask him to do, he's going to kill everyone he loves. Which implies that he is capable of doing that. And even one could argue that he's already killed the one person, William. Now, it's true that we don't know. It's possible that he's not the murderer. But if he is the murderer, we have to wonder how he got from where he is. In these chapters that we've been reading to becoming the sort of person who could commit murder. Because as Nathan points out right now the creature is actively against murder. Here's what he says. He says, for a long time, I could not conceive how one man could go forth to murder his fellow. But notice that for a long time, right? It does kind of imply that eventually he did see how someone could want to go out and murder someone else. So there's that. But the point I want to make about this, just for now, is that the creature, as he is in this part of the story, is a moral being. He cares about right and wrong, and he has aspirations, he has things he wants to be and to become. Right? Here's what he to be a great and virtuous man appeared the highest honor that can befall a sensitive being.

B (17:19)

To be base and vicious, as many.

A (17:21)

On record have been, appeared the lowest degradation, a condition more abject than that of the blind mole or harmless worm. Okay? So just because he looks the way he looks, just because he was created the way he was created, it doesn't mean he doesn't want to be part of the human race. And what we're learning about him is that he's capable of everything a man is capable of, including having morals, aspirations, desires, and wanting to be loved. Loved. Okay, so he's getting closer to being able to reveal himself to the cottagers, because now he can speak. And hopefully he can get them to see that he's not a monster. He's a man. So will he be able to do it? That's what we have to figure out. What's going to happen now that he can speak. Okay, so let's get back to it. But of course, don't forget to write to me. It's faithkmore.com and you click on contact and fill out the form that's there. I will get that right in my email.

B (18:18)

Or.

A (18:19)

Or you can scroll into the show notes and click on the link. It takes you to that exact same form on the contact page. So please do get in touch. Let me know what your thoughts are about, what we're about to read, or anything to do with this book. I love hearing from you, so please do get in touch.

B (18:33)

All right, let's get started with chapters.

A (18:37)

15 and 16 of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. It's story time. Chapter 15.

B (18:50)

Such was the history of my beloved Cottagers. It impressed me deeply. I learned from the views of social life which it developed to admire their virtues and to deprecate the vices of mankind.

A (19:03)

Deprecate means to disapprove of. So through Knowing these cottagers, the monster learned to admire virtues and disapprove of vices.

B (19:10)

As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil. Benevolence and generosity were ever present before me. Inciting within me a desire to become an actor in the busy scene. Where so many admirable qualities were called forth and displayed. But in giving an account of the progress of my intellect. I must not omit a circumstance which occurred in the beginning of the month of August of the same year. One night, during my accustomed visit to the neighboring wood. Where I collected my own food and brought home firing for my protectors. And I found on the ground a leathern portmanteau. Containing several articles of dress and some books. I eagerly seized the prize and returned with it to my hovel. Fortunately, the books were written in the language. The elements of which I had acquired at the cottage. They consisted of Paradise Lost, a volume of Plutarch's lives. And the Sorrows of Werther. Okay, so Paradise Lost is Milton's epic poem about the fall of man from.

A (20:06)

The Garden of Eden. Plutarch's Lives is a series of biographies of famous men in ancient Greece. Focusing on moral virtues or failings.

B (20:13)

And Sorrows of Werther is a novel by Goethe. Largely about a man's unrequited love. The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight. I now continually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories. Whilst my friends were employed in their ordinary occupations. I can hardly describe to you the effects of these books. They produced in me an infinity of new images and feelings. That sometimes raised me to ecstasy. But more frequently sunk me into the lowest dejection. In the Sorrows of Werther. Besides the interests of its simple and affecting story. So many opinions are canvassed. And so many lights thrown upon what had hitherto been to me obscure subjects. That I found in it a never ending source of speculation and astonishment. The gentle and domestic manners it described. Combined with lofty sentiments and feelings. Which had for their object something out of self. Accorded well with my experience among my protectors. And with the wants which were forever alive in my own bosom. But I thought Werter himself a more divine being. Than I had ever beheld or imagined. His character contained no pretension, but it sank deep. The disquisitions upon death and suicide. Were calculated to fill me with wonder. I did not pretend to enter into the merits of the case. Yet I inclined towards the opinions of the hero Whose extinction I wept without precisely understanding it. As I read, however, I applied much personally to my own feelings and condition I found myself similar, yet at the same time strangely unlike. To the beings concerning whom I read and to whose conversation I was a listener, I sympathized with and partly understood them. But I was unformed in mind. I was dependent on none and related to none. The path of my departure was free, and there was none to lament my annihilation. My person was hideous and my stature gigantic. What did this mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my destination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable to solve them. The volume of Plutarch's lives which I possessed contained the histories of the first founders of the ancient republics. This book had a far different effect upon me. From the sorrows of Werter I learned from Werter's imaginations despondency and gloom. But Plutarch taught me high thoughts. He elevated me above the wretched sphere of my own reflections to admire and love the heroes of past ages. Many things I read surpassed my understanding and experience. I had a very confused knowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of country, mighty rivers and boundless seas. But I was perfectly unacquainted with towns and large assemblages of men. The cottage of my protectors had been the only school in which I had studied human nature. But this book developed new and mightier scenes of action. I read of men concerned in public affairs, governing or massacring their species. I felt the greatest ardour for virtue rise within me and abhorrence for vice, as far as I understood the signification of those terms, relative as they were as I applied them to pleasure and pain alone induced by these feelings, I was of course led to admire peaceable lawgivers Numa, Solon and Lycurgus, in preference to Romulus and Theseus. The patriarchal lives of my protectors caused these impressions to take a firm hold in my mind. Perhaps if my first introduction to humanity had been made by a young soldier burning for glory and slaughter, I should have been imbued with different sensations. But Paradise Lost excited different and far deeper emotions. I read it as I had read the other volumes which had fallen into my hands as a true history.

A (24:25)

So he has no concept of fiction. So he believes that all that he.

B (24:28)

Reads is equally true. It moved every feeling of wonder and awe that the picture of an omnipotent God warring with his creatures was capable of exciting. I often refer to the several situations as their similarity struck me to my own. Like Adam, I was apparently united by no link to any other being in existence. But his state was far different from mine in every other respect. He had come forth from the hands of God, a perfect creature, happy and prosperous. Guarded by the especial care of his Creator, he was allowed to converse with and acquire knowledge from beings of a superior nature. But I was wretched, helpless and alone. Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition, for often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter gall of envy rose within me. Another circumstance strengthened and confirmed these feelings. Soon after my arrival in the hovel, I discovered some papers in the pocket of the dress which I had taken from your laboratory. At first I had neglected them, but now that I was able to decipher the characters in which they were written, I began to study them with diligence. It was your journal of the four months that preceded my creation. You minutely described in these papers every step you took in the progress of your work. This history was mingled with accounts of domestic occurrences. You doubtless recollect these papers. Here they are. Everything is related in them which bears reference to my accursed origin. The whole detail of that series of disgusting circumstances which produced it is set in view. The minutest description of my odious and loathsome person is given in language which painted your own horrors and rendered mine indelible. I sickened as I read Hateful Day. When I received life, I exclaimed in agony, accursed creator, why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring after his own image. But my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very resemblance. Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire and encourage him. But I am solitary and abhorred.

A (27:21)

So he's saying that Victor was like his God, creating him out of nothing, as God created Adam.

B (27:26)

But why did he make him so hideous? These were the reflections of my hours of despondency and solitude. But when I contemplated the virtues of the cottagers, their amiable and benevolent dispositions, I persuaded myself that when they should become acquainted with my admiration of their virtues, they would compassionate me and overlook my personal deformity.

A (27:50)

So he's saying he loves the cottagers so much that he thinks that they.

B (27:53)

Might love him in return? Could they turn from their door one, however monstrous, who solicited their compassion and friendship? I resolved at least not to despair, but in every way to fit myself for an interview with them which would decide my fate.

A (28:12)

So now he's resolved to try to meet the cottagers.

B (28:16)

I postponed this attempt for some months longer, for the importance attached to its success inspired me with a dread lest I should fail. Besides, I found that my understanding improved so much with every day's experience that I was unwilling to commence this undertaking until a few more months should have added to my sagacity. Sagacity means wisdom or knowledge.

A (28:38)

So he's waiting until he has learned all he can learn before trying to.

B (28:41)

Speak with the cottagers. Several changes in the meantime took place in the cottage. The presence of Safi diffused happiness among its inhabitants, and I also found that a greater degree of plenty reigned there. Felix and Agatha spent more time in amusement and conversation, and were assisted in their labors by servants. They did not appear rich, but they were contented and happy. Their feelings were serene and peaceful, while mine became every day more tumultuous. Increase of knowledge only discovered to me more clearly what a wretched outcast I was. I cherished hope, it is true, but it vanished when I beheld my person reflected in water or my shadow in the moonshine, even as that frail image and that inconstant shade, so he, seeing.

A (29:30)

Even his reflection, dimly seen in a.

B (29:32)

Pool at night, is horrifying to behold. I endeavoured to crush these fears and to fortify myself for the trial which in a few months I resolved to undergo. And sometimes I allowed my thoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of paradise, and dared to fancy amiable and lovely creatures sympathizing with my feelings and cheering my gloom. Their angelic countenances breathed smiles of consolation, but it was all a dream. No Eve soothed my sorrows, nor shared my thoughts. I was alone. I remembered Adam's supplication to his Creator. But where was mine? He had abandoned me, and in the bitterness of my heart I cursed him. Autumn passed thus. I saw with surprise and grief the leaves decay and fall, and nature again assume the barren and bleak appearance it had worn when I first beheld the woods and the lovely moon. Yet I did not heed the bleakness of the weather. I was better fitted by my conformation from the endurance of cold than heat. But my chief delights were the sight of the flowers, the birds, and all the gay apparel of summer. When those deserted me, I turned with more attention towards the cottagers. Their happiness was not decreased by the absence of summer. They loved and sympathized with one another, and their joys, depending on each other, were not interrupted by the casualties that took place around them. The more I saw of them, the greater became my desire to claim their protection and kindness. My heart yearned to be known and loved by these amiable creatures.

A (31:22)

To see their sweet looks directed towards.

B (31:24)

Me with affection was the utmost limit of my ambition. I dared not think that they would turn them from me with disdain and horror. The poor that stopped at their door were never driven away. I asked. It is true, for greater treasures than a little food or rest. I required kindness and sympathy. But I did not believe myself utterly unworthy of it. The winter advanced, and an entire revolution of the seasons had taken place since I awoke into life. My attention at this time was solely directed towards my plan of introducing myself to into the cottage of my protectors. I revolved many projects, but that on which I finally fixed was to enter the dwelling when the blind old man should be alone. I had sagacity enough to discover that the unnatural hideousness of my person was the chief object of horror with those who had formerly beheld me. My voice, although harsh, had nothing terrible in it. I thought, therefore, that if, in the absence of his children, I could gain the goodwill and mediation of the old de Lacey, I might by his means be tolerated by my younger protectors.

A (32:41)

So he understands that the worst thing.

B (32:43)

About him is the way he looks.

A (32:44)

So he's going to introduce himself to the father first.

B (32:46)

Because the father's blind. One day, when the sun shone on the red leaves that strewed the ground and diffused cheerfulness although it denied warmth, Safie, Agatha, and Felix departed on a long country walk, and the old man, at his own desire, was left alone in the cottage. When his children had departed, he took up his guitar and played several mournful but sweet airs. More sweet and mournful than I had ever heard him play before. At first his countenance was illuminated with pleasure, but as he continued, thoughtfulness and sadness succeeded at length. Laying aside the instrument, he sat absorbed in reflection. My heart beat quick. This was the hour and moment of trial which would decide my hopes or realize my fears. The servants were gone to a neighboring fair. All was silent in and around the cottage. It was an excellent opportunity. Yet when I proceeded to execute my plan, my limbs failed me and I sank to the ground again. I rose and, exerting all the firmness of which I was master, removed the planks which I had placed before my hovel to conceal my retreat. The fresh air revived me, and with renewed determination I approached the door of their cottage. I knocked. Who's there?

A (34:13)

Said the old man.

B (34:14)

Come in. I entered Pardon this intrusion, said I. I am a traveler and want of a little rest. You would greatly oblige me if you would allow me to remain a few minutes before the fire. Enter, said De Lacey, and I will try in what manner I can to relieve your wants. But unfortunately, my children are from home, and as I am blind, I. I am afraid I shall find it difficult to procure food for you. Do not trouble yourself, my kind host. I have food. It is warmth and rest only that I need. I sat down and a silence ensued. I knew that every minute was precious to me, yet I remained irresolute. In what manner to commence the interview when the old man addressed me by your language. Stranger, I suppose you are my countryman. Are you French? No, but I was educated by a French family and understand that language only. I am now going to claim the protection of some friends whom I sincerely love and of whose favor I have some hopes.

A (35:23)

So he's talking, of course, of this family. Right. The cottagers.

B (35:26)

Are they Germans? No, they are French. But let us change the subject. I am an unfortunate and deserted creature. I look around and I have no relation or friend upon earth. These amiable people to whom I go have never seen me and know little of me. I am full of fears, for if I fail there I am an outcast in the world forever. Do not despair. To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate.

A (35:59)

But the hearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self interest, are full.

B (36:04)

Of brotherly love and charity. Rely, therefore, on your hopes. And if these friends are good and.

A (36:10)

Amiable, do not despair.

B (36:13)

They are kind. They are the most excellent creatures in the world. But unfortunately they are prejudiced against me. I have good dispositions. My life has been hitherto harmless and in some degree beneficial. But a fatal prejudice clouds their eyes, and where they ought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestable monster. That is indeed unfortunate. But if you are really blameless, cannot you undeceive them? I am about to undertake that task, and it is on that account that I feel so many overwhelming terrors. I tenderly love these friends. I have, unknown to them, been for many months in the habits of daily kindness towards them. But they believe that I wish to injure them, and it is that prejudice which I wish to overcome. Where do these friends reside? Near this spot the old man paused. And then, if you will unreservedly confine to me the particulars of your tale.

A (37:25)

I perhaps may be of use in undeceived receiving them.

B (37:28)

I am blind and cannot judge of your countenance. But there is something in your words which persuades me that you are sincere. I am poor and an exile, but it will afford me true pleasure to be in any way serviceable to a human creature. Excellent man, I thank you and accept your generous offer. You raise me from the dust by this kindness, and I trust that by your aid I shall not be driven from the society and sympathy of your fellow creatures. Heaven forbid, even if you were really criminal, for that can only drive you to desperation and not instigate you to virtue. I am also unfortunate. I and my family have been condemned, although innocent. Judge therefore, if I do not feel for your misfortunes, how can I thank you, my best and only benefactor? From your lips first have I heard the voice of kindness directed towards me. I shall be forever grateful, and your present humanity assures me of success with those friends whom I am on the point of meeting.

A (38:34)

May I know the names and residence of those friends?

B (38:38)

I paused. This, I thought, was the moment of decision which was to rob me of or bestow happiness on me forever. I struggled vainly for firmness sufficient to answer him, but the effort destroyed all my remaining strength. I sank on the chair and sobbed aloud. At that moment I heard the steps of my young protectors. I had not a moment to lose, but, seizing the hand of the old.

A (39:05)

Man, I cried, now is the time. Save and protect me. You and your family are the friends whom I seek. Do not you desert me in the hour of trial. Great God. Exclaimed the old man.

B (39:20)

Who are you? At that instant the cottage door was opened and Felix, Safie, and Agatha entered. Who can describe their horror and consternation on beholding me? Agatha fainted, and Safie, unable to attend to her friend, rushed out of the cottage. Felix darted forward and with supernatural force tore me from his father, to whose knees I clung in a transport of fury. He dashed me to the ground and struck me violently with a stick. I could have torn him limb from limb as the lion rends the antelope, but my heart sank within me as with bitter sickness, and I refrained. I saw him on the point of repeating his blow, when, overcome by pain and anguish, I I quitted the cottage, and in the general tumult escaped unperceived to my hovel. Chapter 16 cursed, cursed creator, why did I live? Why in that instant did I not extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly bestowed? I know not. Despair had not yet taken possession of me. My feelings were Those of rage and revenge. I could with pleasure have destroyed the cottage and its inhabitants and have glutted myself with their shrieks and misery. When night came, I quitted my retreat and wandered in the wood. And now, no longer restrained by the fear of discovery, I gave vent to my anguish in fear. Fearful howlings. I was like a wild beast that had broken the toils, destroying the objects that obstructed me, and ranging through the wood with a stag like swiftness. Oh, what a miserable night I passed. The cold stars shone in mockery, and the bare trees waved their branches above me. Now and then the sweet voice of a bird burst forth amidst the universal stillness. All save I were at rest or in enjoyment. I, like the arch fiend, bore a hell within me, and, finding myself unsympathized with, wished to tear up the trees, spread havoc and destruction around me, and then to have sat down and enjoyed the ruin. But this was a luxury of sensation that could not endure. I became fatigued with excess of bodily exertion and sank on the damp grass in the sick impotence of despair. There was none among the myriads of men that existed who would pity or assist me. And should I feel kindness towards my enemies?

A (42:17)

No.

B (42:18)

From that moment I declared everlasting war against the species, and, more than all, against him who had formed me and sent me forth to this insupportable misery. The sun rose. I heard the voices of men and knew that it was impossible to return to my retreat during the day. Accordingly, I hid myself in some thick underwood, determining to devote the ensuing hours to reflection on my situation. The pleasant sunshine and the pure air of day restored me to some degree of tranquillity. And when I considered what had passed at the cottage, I could not help believing that I had been too hasty in my conclusions. I had certainly acted imprudently. It was apparent that my conversation had interested the father in my behalf, and I was a fool in having exposed my person to the horror of his children. I ought to have familiarized the old de Lacy to me, and by degrees to have discovered myself to the rest of his family when they should have been prepared for my approach. But I did not believe my errors to be irretrievable, and after much consideration, I resolved to return to the cottage, seek the old man, and by my representations win him to my party.

A (43:37)

So he's going to try again with the father when the children are gone, and try to get him to understand who and what he is so that.

B (43:42)

The father can prepare the children. These thoughts calmed me and in the afternoon I sank into a profound sleep. But the fever of my blood did not allow me to be visited by peaceful dreams. The horrible scene of the preceding day was forever acting before my eyes. The females were flying and the enraged Felix tearing me from his father's feet. I awoke exhausted and finding that it was already night, I crept forth from my hiding place and went in search of food. When my hunger was appeased, I directed.

A (44:17)

My steps towards the well known path.

B (44:19)

That conducted to the cottage. All there was at peace. I crept into my hovel and remained in silent expectation of the accustomed hour. When the family arose, that hour passed. The sun mounted high in the heavens, but the cottagers did not appear. I trembled violently, apprehending some dreadful misfortune. The inside of the cottage was dark and I heard no motion. I cannot describe the agony of this suspense. Presently two countrymen passed by, but pausing near the cottage, they entered into conversation using violent gesticulations. But I did not understand what they said as they spoke the language of the country which differed from that of my protectors. Soon after, however, Felix approached with another man. I was surprised, as I knew that he had not quitted the cottage that morning and waited anxiously to discover from his discourse the meaning of these unusual appearances. Do you consider, said his companion to him, that you will be obliged to pay three months rent and to lose the produce of your garden? I do not wish to take any unfair advantage, and I beg therefore, that you will take some days to consider your determination. It is utterly useless, replied Felix. We can never again inhabit your cottage. The life of my father is in the greatest danger. Owing to the dreadful circumstances that I have related, my wife and my sister will never recover from their horror. I entreat you not to reason with me any more. Take possession of your tenement and let me fly from this place. Felix trembled violently as he said this. He and his companion entered the cottage in which they remained for a few minutes and then departed. I never saw any of the family of de Lacey more. I continued for the remainder of the day in my hovel in a state of utter and stupid despair. My protectors had departed and had broken the only link that held me to the world. For the first time the feelings of revenge and hatred filled my bosom, and I did not strive to control them. But, allowing myself to be borne away by the stream, I bent my mind towards injury and death. When I thought of my friends, of the mild voice of de Lacey, the gentle eyes of Agatha, and the exquisite beauty of the Arabian, these Thoughts vanished, and a gush of tears somewhat soothed me. But again, when I reflected that they had spurned and deserted me, anger returned. A rage of anger, and unable to injure anything human, I turned my fury towards inanimate objects. As night advanced, I placed a variety of combustibles around the cottage. And after having destroyed every vestige of cultivation in the garden, I waited with forced impatience until the moon had sunk to commence my operations. As the night advanced, a fierce wind arose from the woods and quickly dispersed the clouds that had loitered in the heavens. The blast tore along like a mighty avalanche and produced a kind of insanity in my spirits that burst all bounds of reason and reflection. I lighted the dry branch of a tree and danced with fury around the devoted cottage, my eyes still fixed on the western horizon, the edge of which the moon nearly touched. A part of its orb was at length hid, and I waved my brand. It sank, and with a loud scream I fired the straw and heath and bushes which I had collected. The wind fanned the fire, and the cottage was quickly enveloped by the flames which clung to it and licked it with their forked and destroying tongues. As soon as I was convinced that no assistance could save any part of the habitation, I quitted the scene and sought for refuge in the woods. And now, with the world before me, whither should I bend my steps? I resolved to fly far from the scene of my misfortunes. But to me, hated and despised. Every country must be equally horrible. At length the thought of you crossed my mind, you being Victor here. I learned from your papers that you were my father, my Creator. And to whom could I apply with more fitness than to him who had given me life? Among the lessons that Felix had bestowed upon Safie, geography had not been omitted. I had learned from these the relative situations of the different countries of the earth. You had mentioned Geneva as the name of your native town, and towards this place I resolved to proceed. But how was I to direct myself? I knew that I must travel in a southwesterly direction to reach my destination. But the sun was my only guide. I did not know the names of the towns that I was to pass through, nor could I ask information from a single human being. But I did not despair. From you only could I hope for succor. Although towards you I felt no sentiment but that of hatred. Unfeeling and heartless Creator, you had endowed me with perceptions and passions and then cast me abroad, an object for the scorn and horror of mankind. But on you only had I any claim for pity and redress, and from you I determined to seek that justice which I vainly attempted to gain from any other being that wore the human form. My travels were long, and the sufferings I endured intense. It was late in autumn when I quitted the district where I had so long resided. I traveled only at night, fearful of encountering the visage of a human being. Nature decayed around me, and the sun became heatless. Rain and snow poured around me. Mighty rivers were frozen. The surface of the earth was hard and chill and bare, and I found no shelter. Oh, earth, how often did I imprecate curses on the cause of my being. So imprecate means to utter as in a curse. So he's cursing, Victor. Essentially, the mildness of my nature had fled, and all within me was turned to gall and bitterness. The nearer I approached to your habitation, the more deeply did I feel the spirit of revenge enkindled in my heart. Snow fell and the waters were hardened, but I rested. Not a few incidents now and then directed me, and I possessed a map of the country. But I often wandered wide from my path. The agony of my feelings allowed me no respite, no incident occurred from which my rage and misery could not extract its food. But a circumstance that happened when I arrived on the confines of Switzerland, when the sun had recovered its warmth and the earth again began to look green, confirmed in a special manner the bitterness and horror of my feelings. I generally rested during the day and traveled only when I was secured by night from the view of man. One morning, however, finding that my path lay through a deep wood, I ventured to continue my journey after the sun had risen. The day, which was one of the first of spring, cheered even me by the loveliness of its sunshine and the balminess of the air. I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure that had long appeared dead revive within me. Half surprised by the novelty of these sensations, I allowed myself to be borne away by them, and, forgetting my solitude and deformity, dared to be happy. Soft tears again bedewed my cheeks, and.

A (52:29)

I even raised my humid eyes with.

B (52:31)

Thankfulness towards the blessed sun which bestowed such joy upon me. I continued to wind among the paths of the wood until I came to its boundary, which was skirted by a deep and rapid river into which many of the trees bent their branches, now budding with the fresh spring. Here I paused, not exactly knowing what path to pursue, when I heard the sound of voices that induced me to conceal myself under the shade of a cypress. I was scarcely hid when a young Girl came running towards the spot where I was concealed. Laughing as if she ran from someone in sport. She continued her course along the precipitous sides of the river. When suddenly her foot slipped and she fell into the rapid stream. I rushed from my hiding place and with extreme labor from the force of the current, saved her and dragged her to shore. She was senseless, and I endeavored by every means in my power to restore animation. When I was suddenly interrupted by the approach of a rustic who was probably the person from whom she had playfully fled. On seeing me, he darted towards me and, tearing the girl from my arms, hastened towards the deeper parts of the wood. I followed speedily. I hardly knew why, but when the man saw me draw near, he aimed a gun which he carried at my body and fired. I sank to the ground, and my injurer, with increased swiftness, escaped into the wood. This was then the reward of my benevolence. I had saved a human being from destruction, and as a recompense, I now writhed under the miserable pain of a wound which shattered the flesh and bone. The feelings of kindness and gentleness which I had entertained but a few moments before gave place to to hellish rage and gnashing of teeth. Inflamed by pain, I vowed eternal hatred and vengeance to all mankind. But the agony of my wound overcame me. My pulses paused, and I fainted. For some weeks I led a miserable life in the woods, endeavoring to cure the wound which I had received. The ball had entered my shoulder, and I knew not whether it had remained there or passed through. At any rate, I had no means of extracting it. My sufferings were augmented also by the oppressive sense of the injustice and ingratitude of their infliction. My daily vows rose for revenge, a deep and deadly revenge such as would alone compensate for the outrages and anguish I had endured. After some weeks, my wound healed and I continued my journey. The labours I endured were no longer to be alleviated by the bright sun or gentle breezes of spring. All joy was but a mockery which insulted my desolate state and made me feel more painfully that I was not made for the enjoyment of pleasure. But my toils now drew near a close, and in two months from this time I reached the environs of Geneva. It was evening when I arrived, and I retired to a hiding place among the fields that surrounded it to meditate. In what manner I should apply to you. I was oppressed by fatigue and hunger and far too unhappy to enjoy the gentle breezes of evening or the prospect of the sun setting behind the stupendous mountains of Jura. At this time, a slight sleep relieved me from the pain of reflection, which was disturbed by the approach of a beautiful child who came running into the recess I had chosen with all the sportiveness of infancy. Suddenly, as I gazed on him, an idea seized me that this little creature was unprejudiced. And had lived too short a time to have imbibed a horror of deformity. If, therefore, I could seize him and educate him as my companion and friend, I should not be so desolate in this peopled earth.

A (56:35)

So he's thinking that this child is.

B (56:37)

Too young to feel afraid of him.

A (56:38)

And maybe he can take the child.

B (56:39)

And make him into a companion. Urged by this impulse, I seized on the boy as he passed and drew him towards me. As soon as he beheld my form, he placed his hands before his eyes and uttered a shrill scream. I drew his hand forcibly from his face and said, child, what is the meaning of this? I do not intend to hurt you. Listen to me. He struggled violently.

A (57:05)

Let me go.

B (57:06)

He cried.

A (57:07)

Monster. Ugly wretch. You wish to eat me and tear me to pieces. You are an ogre. Let me go, or I will tell my papa.

B (57:17)

Boy, you will never see your father again. You must come with me.

A (57:22)

Hideous monster. Let me go. My papa is a syndicate.

B (57:26)

A syndic is a government official.

A (57:29)

He is Monsieur Frankenstein.

B (57:31)

He will punish you. You dare not keep me, Frankenstein. You belong then to my enemy. To him towards whom I have sworn eternal revenge. You shall be my first victim. The child struggled and loaded me with epithets which carried despair to my heart. I grasped his throat to silence him, and in a moment he lay dead at my feet. I gazed on my victim, and my heart swelled with exultation and hellish triumph. Clapping my hands, I exclaimed, I, too, can create desolation. My enemy is not invulnerable. This death will carry despair to him, and a thousand other miseries shall torment and destroy him. As I fixed my eyes on the child, I saw something glittering on his breast. I took it. It was a portrait of a most lovely woman. In spite of my malignity, it softened and attracted me. For a few moments I gazed with delight on her dark eyes fringed by deep lashes and her lovely lips. But presently my rage returned. I remembered that I was forever deprived of the delights that such beautiful creatures could bestow, and that she whose resemblance I contemplated. Contemplated. Would in regarding me, have changed that air of divine benignity to one expressive of disgust and affright. Can you wonder that such thoughts transported me with rage? I only wonder that at that moment, instead of venting my sensations and exclamations of agony, I did not rush among mankind and perish in the attempt to destroy them.

A (59:15)

So he's saying he's surprised he didn't rush into the town and start killing everyone. Instead of just crying out in despair.

B (59:21)

While I was overcome by these feelings, I left the spot where I had committed the murder and seeking a more secluded hiding place, I entered a barn which had appeared to me to be empty. A woman was sleeping on some straw. She was young, not indeed so beautiful as her whose portrait I held, but of an agreeable aspect, and blooming in the loveliness of youth and health. Here, I thought, is one of those whose joy imparting smiles are bestowed on all but me.

A (59:49)

Me.

B (59:50)

And then I bent over her and whispered, awake. Fairest, thy lover is near, he who would give his life but to obtain one look of affection from thine eyes, my beloved. Awake the sleeper stirred. A thrill of terror ran through me. Should she indeed awake and see me and curse me and denounce the murderer, thus would she assuredly act if her darkened eyes opened and she beheld me. The thought was madness. It stirred the fiend within me. Not I, but she shall suffer the murder I have committed, Because I am forever robbed of all that she could give me. She shall atone.

A (60:32)

So he's saying this woman should suffer.

B (60:34)

Instead of him because she will never look on him with love. The crime had its source in her. Be hers the punishment. Thanks to the lessons of Felix and the sanguinary laws of man. So sanguinary laws are laws about bloodshed. I had learned now to work mischief. I bent over her and placed the portrait securely in one of the folds of her dress. She moved again, and I fled. For some days I haunted the spot where these scenes had taken place, sometimes wishing to see you, sometimes resolved to quit the world and its miseries forever. At length I wandered towards these mountains and have ranged through their immense recesses, consumed by a burning passion which you alone can gratify. We may not part until you have promised to comply with my requisition. I am alone and miserable. Man will not associate with me. But one as deformed and horrible as myself would not deny herself to me.

A (61:38)

Meaning, if there was someone as terrifying.

B (61:40)

To look at as him, that someone wouldn't run from him. My companion must be of the same species and have the same defects. This being you must create.

A (61:58)

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 favorite. 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.

B (62:58)

I would really, really appreciate it.

A (63:01)

Alright everyone, story time is over.

B (63:04)

To be continued.