Frankenstein: Chapters 9-10

Summary

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Storytime for Grownups – Frankenstein: Chapters 9-10

Host: Faith Moore
Date: September 29, 2025

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Episode Overview

In this episode, Faith Moore reads and analyzes Chapters 9 and 10 of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. She intersperses her narration with thoughtful commentary, focusing on Victor Frankenstein’s guilt, the fallout from Justine’s execution, and the highly anticipated first confrontation between Victor and his Creature in the Alps. Faith also responds to diverse listener comments about Victor’s moral culpability, openly shares her own anti-Victor position, and discusses the melodramatic tone that colors much of the narrative. The episode is designed to make classic literature relevant and enjoyable, blending immersive reading with accessible literary analysis.

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Key Discussion Points & Insights

1. Reflecting on Justine’s Execution and Victor’s Culpability (03:46–14:50)

• Listener Comments Debate Victor’s Character:

  • Rachel (04:38): Is torn between pity and frustration: “I don't know whether to pity him or be infuriated with him.”
  • Sarah (05:12): Strongly condemns Victor’s inaction as “impotent, selfish.”
  • Emma (05:39): Suggests Victor’s guilt redeems him, noting he is not a textbook narcissist.

• Host’s Perspective (06:42–14:51):

  • Faith aligns herself with the anti-Victor camp, stating:

    “Victor has revealed himself in these last couple of chapters…to be a total narcissist.” (08:09)

  • She critiques Victor’s self-pity, especially where he claims his suffering is greater than Justine’s:

    “The tortures of the accused did not equal mine.” (08:24 – quote from the text)

  • Points out Victor’s lack of responsibility for the Creature after its creation:

    “He takes no responsibility for neglecting the creature. He only takes responsibility for making it.” (11:00)

  • Observes the literary device of having a potentially unlikable narrator, challenging listeners to consider the reliability and likability of Victor (12:57).

2. The Aftermath of Tragedy: Grief, Solitude, and Melodrama (14:51–17:44)

• Victor is overwhelmed by guilt, Elizabeth is despondent, and both are wracked by the consequences of Justine’s execution.

• Victor’s foreshadowing and sense of melodrama are highlighted:

  “The first hapless victims to my unhallowed arts.” (15:20, Victor)

• Faith notes the over-the-top, melodramatic language of the book, exemplified by Elizabeth’s speech and emotional extremes:

  “You, my playfellow, my companion, my sister—perish on the scaffold? No, no. I never could survive so horrible a misfortune.” (15:57, quoting Elizabeth)

  • Faith: “Nobody talks like that, right? So it's kind of silly. If you want it to be.” (15:57)

3. Chapter-by-Chapter Reading and Commentary

Chapter 9: Victor’s Despair and Isolation (18:14–28:15)

• Victor, consumed by remorse, describes his inability to find solace after Justine’s execution.

  “I wandered like an evil spirit, for I had committed deeds of mischief beyond description, horrible and more, much more, I persuaded myself, was yet behind.” (19:03, Victor)

• His father tries to counsel him out of grief, but Victor’s sense of guilt is too all-consuming (19:43).
• Victor contemplates suicide but resists for the sake of Elizabeth and his family (23:00).
• Elizabeth reflects on the darkness that has entered her worldview:

  “Before, I looked upon the accounts of vice and injustice that I read in books…as tales of ancient days or imaginary evils…But now, misery has come home, and men appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other’s blood.” (25:13-25:48, Elizabeth)

• Victor seeks solace and escape in the natural world, traveling into the Alps, describing the landscape with a blend of anguish and appreciation for its power and grandeur (28:14).

Chapter 10: The Sublimity of Nature & Confrontation on the Glacier (28:15–52:14)

• Victor continues ascending into the Alpine wilderness, attempting to find relief in the beauty and terror of nature:

  “It is a scene terrifically desolate…The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines of snow…One of them is particularly dangerous, as the slightest sound…produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw destruction.” (32:23, narration & commentary)

• Victor contemplates the mutability of human sorrow, wishing for the ignorant peace of animals.
• On the glacier at Montanvert, Victor first spots the Creature approaching him:

  “I suddenly beheld the figure of a man at some distance, advancing towards me with superhuman speed.” (40:25, narration)

• The confrontation is charged, and both express their bitterness:
  • Victor (41:37): “Devil! … Do you dare approach me? ... I may trample you to dust, and, oh, that I could, with the extinction of your miserable existence, restore those victims whom you have so diabolically murdered.”
  • Creature (43:00): “All men hate the wretched. How then must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things? Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound…by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us.”
• The Creature demands to be heard, giving his justification:

  “I was benevolent and good. Misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.” (45:15, Creature)

• Victor nearly attacks the Creature, but the Creature insists on telling his side of the story:

  “Let your compassion be moved, and do not disdain me. … Listen to my tale…The guilty are allowed by human laws…to speak in their own defense before they are condemned. Listen to me, Frankenstein.” (44:55–47:15, Creature)

• Victor reluctantly agrees, moved by a mixture of curiosity, guilt, and a dawning sense of responsibility:

  “For the first time also, I felt what the duties of a Creator towards his creature were, and that I ought to render him happy before I complained of his wickedness.” (50:05, narration)

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Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

• Victor's Self-Pity:

  “The tortures of the accused did not equal mine.” (08:24, Victor, quoted by Faith)

• Faith’s Anti-Victor Stand:

  “Victor has revealed himself…to be a total narcissist.” (08:09, Faith)

• Elizabeth on the Loss of Innocence:

  “Before, I looked upon the accounts of vice and injustice…as tales of ancient days…But now, misery has come home, and men appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other's blood.” (25:13–25:48, Elizabeth, read by Faith)

• The Creature’s Plea:

  “I was benevolent and good. Misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.” (45:15, Creature)

• Nature as Solace and Sublimity:

  “These sublime and magnificent scenes…elevated me from all littleness of feeling, and although they did not remove my grief, they subdued and tranquillized it.” (31:45, Victor, recited by Faith)

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Important Timestamps

• Listener Comments & Victor Discussion: 03:46–14:51
• Melodrama & Narrative Tone: 15:38–17:44
• Story Reading Starts (Ch. 9): 18:08
• Elizabeth’s Despair: 25:13–27:09
• Victor’s Journey in the Alps: 28:14–32:23
• Victor Sees the Creature: 40:25
• Initial Confrontation Quotes: 41:37–43:10
• Creature’s Argument for Compassion: 44:48–45:15
• Victor Agrees to Listen: 50:05–50:54

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Tone and Style

Throughout, Faith’s narration is warm, conversational, and slightly playful, even when delving into dark or melodramatic passages. She injects humor regarding the book’s melodrama, provides easy-to-understand explanations of language and context, and encourages listeners to form and share their own opinions, regardless of whether they differ from hers.

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Next Episode Preview

Faith hints at upcoming plans for the podcast’s future books and urges listeners to write in with thoughts, especially opinions that diverge from her anti-Victor stance. She encourages ongoing dialogue in the show’s online community, the Drawing Room.

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Summary prepared by Storytime for Grownups Podcast Summarizer – for those seeking insight and discussion without having to listen in real time!

Transcript

[Faith Moore]

Hello and welcome to Storytime for Grown Ups. I'm Faith Moore and this season we're reading Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Each episode I'll read a few chapters from the book, pausing from time to time to give brief explanations so it's easier to follow along. It's like an audiobook with built in notes. So brew a pot of tea, find a cozy chair and settle in. It's story time. Hi.

Welcome back. I can't believe it, but this is actually the last episode in September. The next episode, this Thursday, is it's going to be October. This time is just flying by. It's amazing. Thanks for being here. Welcome. Welcome back to Storytime for Grown Ups. So, because it is almost October and because that means that in fact we are just about halfway through the book, which is also hard to believe, I will talk next time. So once we are actually in October, I will talk next time about what comes next because I know that lots of you like to know and plan ahead. So I will talk about what we will be doing after this book. I won't reveal the next book, but I will tell you what the plan is and I will let you know when to expect a trailer. So tune in on Thursday for that when we are actually past the halfway mark and actually into October. So that's coming up. That's exciting. And I think that's the only actual announcement I have for today, of course, except for all the usual ones like don't forget to subscribe. Please tap the five stars if you're enjoying this show. If you have a couple of extra seconds, please leave a positive review. And more important than anything else, please tell a friend. Because first of all, that gets more people listening to the show. And the more people who listen, the more books we'll be able to do for as long as we possibly can. So we need people to listen if that's going to happen. So tell a friend for that reason. But also if you tell a friend and they start listening to this show, then you'll have someone to talk about it with in real life, which is fantastic. Everyone should be sitting around talking about books. Even if we don't have in real life a cozy Victorian drawing room to sit in. We can pretend and we can have real life friends to talk about these books with and we can have Storytime for Grown Ups friends. And I'm so thrilled that we do. And if you would like to talk to those friends after the show, you can also join our online community, which is called the Drawing Room because I like to Pretend that it is our lovely cozy drawing room in our old Victorian house. And there's a link in the show notes to find out more about that. You can just scroll down into the description of this episode and you'll find that there. There's also the link to the merch store. We've got lots of great designs in there. And you can find the link to our Buy me a coffee page, which of course I always like to say is Buy me a tea. And that's basically our Don page. It's also the community page. It's where you can find the drawing room. But also, if you're not interested in joining the drawing room, but you would like to support the work that I do financially, you can leave a tip, essentially, or a donation. So that page is also there. Okay, so last time we read chapter eight of Frankenstein. Today we're reading two chapters. We're reading chapter nine and chapter ten. I've got three great comments because actually we're starting to get some disagreement among you guys. And so that's fantastic. I love it. It's very juicy. So I'm going to talk about that and where I stand in all of this and we'll have a discussion and then we'll get into the chapters. But of course, let's begin by remembering, reminding ourselves what we read last time. So here is the recap.

So where we left off. Victor is racked with guilt over Justine's.

Imprisonment because he feels certain that the real murderer is the creature that he created.

He wishes that he could confess himself.

But he knows that he wouldn't be.

Taken seriously because he wasn't INJ Geneva at the time of the murder. So Justine's trial begins and she maintains.

Her innocence throughout, but she can't explain how she ended up with the miniature painting, so she's found guilty and sentenced to death. Later, Victor learns that Justine has confessed.

And so he and Elizabeth go to.

Visit her in prison. Justine tells them that she was actually coerced into confessing and that she still maintains her innocence, but she's ready to die and end her suffering.

So the next day, Justine is executed.

And Elizabeth is heartbroken and Victor is guilt ridden. And that's where we left them. All right, so, as I say, I've.

Got these three comments.

The first one comes from Rachel Clevenger. She writes, having now finished chapter eight.

I'm struck by just how often Victor's assumptions and inaction have contributed to the.

Many unfortunate events in this novel.

[Listener/Commenter]

As a reader, I don't know whether.

[Faith Moore]

To pity him or be infuriated with him. Surely he knows by now that his continued silence is doing much more harm than good at this point. Okay, the next one comes from Sarah Coches. She writes, ugh, Victor, you are such an impotent, selfish excuse for a man. How can you sit idly by while.

[Listener/Commenter]

Justine is put to death?

[Faith Moore]

You could do something. Anything would be better than you sitting around worrying about your own reputation while you let an innocent young girl take the blame for your brother's murder. And the third one comes from Emma Stevenson. She writes, the excruciating remorse that Victor is feeling now redeems his character somewhat. In earlier chapters, we could have been forgiven for considering him a pathological narcissist. But a truly pathological narcissist would probably.

Deflect blame and distort reality to create a narrative where they were the victim or the hero rather than the villain.

In their own story. Okay, so I love that I got all three of these letters because they essentially run the gamut of what we might be feeling about Victor right now.

Right?

We've got the anti Victor camp, as represented here by Sarah's letter. That camp is essentially that Victor is a horrible narcissist. He's taking zero responsibility for the creature itself and for the creature's actions or his part in them, even to the point of allowing an innocent woman to die without even trying to explain the situation. Okay, that's one camp. Then we've got the pro Victor camp, as represented here by Emma, her letter. That camp is essentially that Victor is taking responsibility. He's racked with remorse. He wishes he could do something to save Justine, but there's nothing he can do because he would be considered crazy if he talked about the creature. And if he said that he was the one that killed William, it could be proven that he wasn't even in Geneva at the time.

So again, he'd be considered crazy.

So he did do a bad thing creating this creature, but now he feels really bad about it and he is filled with guilt. So if you're in that camp, then you have some sympathy for him. And then we've got the sort of undecided camp as represented here by Rachel's letter, the first one I read. And that camp is essentially a mixture of the two. Right? That camp is not sure yet if it pities Victor or feels like he's being a total narcissist.

So I am in a bit of.

A tricky situation here because I actually fall very squarely into one of these camps. And I was trying to decide if I should reveal which one it is, or if that would maybe color your opinion too much. But I think that I am going to reveal which one, because I think it's going to inform the way that we discuss the book as we go along. But I want to say, as always, that what I am saying here in these openings about the book, any of the books that we read on the show, what I am saying is my own interpretation. Other people might interpret the book differently, and that is totally fine. The only thing that is not fine is trying to bring your own kind of set philosophy to the story before you read it, and then trying to cram the book into that philosophy, even if it doesn't fit. That is not cool. But otherwise you can disagree with me. And as long as you can support your theories with the actual text, then we can very happily agree to disagree. But I actually fall into the first camp, the anti Victor camp. I think that Victor has revealed himself in these last couple of chapters that we read.

He's revealed himself to be a total narcissist.

I mean, yes, he does seem to.

Be racked with guilt at the fact.

That Justine has been executed for a crime that the creature committed instead of her. But listen to how he talks about it. Okay? He says, here's a quote.

The tortures of the accused did not equal mine.

Okay? The accused being Justine here. And then later he says, the poor.

Victim who on the morrow was to.

Pass the awful boundary between life and.

Death, felt not, as I did, such deep and bitter agony.

So what is he saying here? He's essentially saying that Justine, a person who has been accused of a crime she didn't commit, hated and condemned by nearly all of her friends, and then executed for the crime she didn't commit. He's saying that his situation is worse than hers. I mean, okay, yes, he feels really bad about the fact that he is.

Essentially the cause of Justine's death.

So he's not totally remorseless. But I actually feel like the kind of remorse that he's feeling isn't totally above board. Like, first of all, to say that you are worse off than the person who was literally just executed and is now dead dead is pretty self centered. I mean, is he worse off than Justine? I mean, is he really? And then to like say that out loud, it's kind of full of himself, I think, like my experience is worse. Petty me more, look at me. See how bad things are for me. I feel like that's what he's saying. Because I mean, he could have done something. He could have tried to talk about the creature. Maybe no one would believe him him, but maybe somebody would.

And then at least he would be.

Able to say that he tried. And then maybe he could be so guilt ridden because he tried everything and she died anyway and it's all his fault. But he didn't try anything. And even if it is all his.

Fault, is he more to be pitied than Justine?

Is he worse off than Justine? I kind of feel like no. But also what he's saying here is essentially that he created this evil being.

And it did an evil thing.

So he wishes he'd never created the creature. And I mean, fine, we all agreed that creating this creature in a lab was not a good idea. So we agree that he shouldn't have done it. But we also agreed that since he.

Did do it, he has a responsibility to it. And last time we were talking about.

How it's very likely that the creature wasn't created evil, that whatever evil he's now capable of was a product of Victor's neglect. And. And also whatever the creature's been up.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

To for the last two years when.

[Faith Moore]

Victor was sort of prancing around on walking tours and learning to speak Hindustani or whatever.

But.

And this is the part that makes me anti Victor, that places me in that camp.

He doesn't at all take responsibility for neglecting the creature. He only takes responsibility for making it. He feels bad about that.

He sees that he shouldn't have done.

That, so, okay, good.

But he takes no responsibility for just leaving it to fend for itself for two years. Okay? He's not saying, oh, if only I'd cared for it and taught it right from wrong and been there for it, then it wouldn't have murdered my brother. He is saying, oh, if only I hadn't created this horrible, murderous wretch. And you can disagree with me here, but I see this as actually not taking responsibility. So to my mind, Victor is just feeling sorry for himself. He's placing himself and his troubles above.

Justine's and above Elizabeth's and above his.

Father'S and everyone else that's grieving for William. He's saying, pity me more. Care about my problems more, and he's placing all the blame for the creature's apparent murderous tendencies on the creature.

So he takes no blame for what.

The creature has apparently become because he thinks that was just the way it was always going to be. So the way I see it, he's.

Not acknowledging his part in all of this.

He's basically calling himself the victim here. And that doesn't sit right with me. Now, again, you can disagree. And I read all three of these letters because I feel like they are all valid reading of the book and valid feelings to be having at this point in the narrative. But I did want to just kind.

Of lay out my case that at.

Least the way I see it, Victor is kind of pulling a fast one on us here. He's saying how sorry he is. He's saying it's all his fault, but then he's not taking responsibility for the actual thing he did.

That is the most likely cause of.

The creature's murderous tendencies, which is the fact that he neglected it. So this is kind of interesting now, because if you join me in the anti Victor camp, which you don't have to do, but if you do. Now we have a narrator who we don't actually really like. Or maybe it's not that we don't like him, it's that we don't respect him, I guess. So we now have a narrator we don't actually respect, which is a kind of fun literary situation.

You know, if you were with us.

For the Woman in White, we had a little bit of this then, in the sense that some of the narratives were written by characters we didn't like. But we always kind of had Walter and Marian and Laura as our main characters, characters, the people that we could identify with and like. So we weren't really being asked to identify with, like, Mr. Fairley or whoever. But here, Victor is our narrator. I mean, we started with Walton, but very quickly we moved on to Victor.

And it's been Victor ever since.

So it's an interesting situation because we are trained as readers to identify with the narrator unless we're explicitly told not to or unless he proves to be unreliable or unlikable or something.

But our default is to feel that.

The narrator is basically us. But at least for me, I've kind of run out of sympathy for Victor. Now, of course, it remains to be seen whether the creature is actually just inherently evil. I mean, this is a kind of being that has never existed before. So maybe Victor is right. Maybe there was nothing he could have done. But even that feels sort of like letting him off the hook. Because he doesn't actually know that that is true. And he couldn't know it until he tried to love and care for him and then maybe failed. So from where I sit, Victor has kind of lost my respect. I'm annoyed with him, and I'm over his woe is me attitude. This could change. He could redeem himself. I might start to feel better about him. But at this point in the story, I am annoyed with him. But this would not be the first time that I had an opinion about a book that not all of you shared. Right. I'm thinking particularly of Mr. Rochester here. So you are welcome to make your case for our pal Victor. And please do write in if you'd like to. I love a good debate. So if you think that I've got Victor all wrong, please do let me know. I mean, be polite, but make your case. I really do welcome that, but that's where I'm coming from. I feel like Victor wants us to think he's the wronged party here, but actually, there's a lot of blame that we can lay at his door.

And at the very least, he's not.

Worse off than a lady that was just killed for something she didn't do. Okay, so that's where we are, right? William is dead. Justine is dead. Victor is wandering around all tortured, and the creature is out there in the mountains surrounding Geneva doing, I mean, who knows what. And of course, we get some more lovely foreshadowing again, right? Here's what Victor tells us. He tells us, torn by remorse, horror and despair, I beheld those I loved.

Spend vain sorrow upon the graves of.

William and Justine, the first hapless victims to my unhallowed arts.

So there will be more victims, right?

This is not the end of the death and destruction. There is lots more to come. And I think at this point, it's fair to say that all of this foreshadowing that we keep getting, it's part.

Of the delicious melodrama of the book.

That we've been talking about. It's part of the fun of it all, this story. It can be dark and bleak and depressing in a lot of ways, but the melodrama kind of takes us out of that a little bit. And if we want it, it can give us a bit of a laugh. I mean, the last chapter, right, chapter.

Eight, it was just filled with this.

Really over the top stuff and people's dialogue being completely out there. This is my favorite one. It's Elizabeth. And she's talking. She says, oh, Justine, forgive me for having for one moment distrusted you. Why did you confess? But do not mourn, dear girl. Do not fear. I will proclaim. I will prove your innocence. I will melt the stony hearts of your enemies. By my tears and prayers, you shall not die. You, my playfellow, my Companion my sister perish on the scaffold. No, no. I never could survive so horrible a misfortune. I mean, nobody talks like that, Right? So it's kind of silly. If you want it to be. I mean, if you don't want it to be, if you don't need a little break from the doom and gloom, then you can take it as it's intended, which is that Elizabeth is really distressed that her friend is going to be killed for something she didn't do. And it totally is that. But also, it kind of feels like one of those old pantomimes they used to put on. I think they still do put them on around Christmas time in England, but it's where everything is sort of overdone and all the emotions are really exaggerated, and it's all kind of funny. It's all for effect. And I think that is going on here, too, even if Shelley didn't actually intend it. But for me, it allows this book to be fun when otherwise it would be just kind of dark. So go with the melodrama and enjoy it if you want to. Okay. But let's now get back to it, because it's. It's not really clear narratively what's going to happen next. Right. This little episode has now come to a close. There was a murder. It was probably the creature who did it.

Justine was accused.

She was tried, she was found guilty. Victor felt he couldn't do anything to help her. A sentiment we may disagree with, but fine. And then she was killed. The end. So what's next?

Well, let's find out.

Okay. But don't forget to write to me. It's faith k.moore.com. click on contact. Send me all your questions and thoughts. You can disagree with me about Victor if you want, and you can respond. I hope you will respond to the chapters that we're about to read.

All right, let's get started with chapters nine and ten of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.

It's story time.

Chapter nine. Nothing is more painful to the human mind then after the feelings have been worked up by a quick succession of events. The dead calmness of inaction and certainty which follows and deprives the soul both of hope and fear. So he's saying that there's nothing worse than not being able to do something.

About the thing that you feel bad about.

Justine died. She rested and I was alive. The blood flowed freely in my veins. But a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my heart, which nothing could remove. Sleep fled from my eyes. I wandered like an evil Spirit. For I had committed deeds of mischief beyond description, horrible and more, much more.

I persuaded myself was yet behind.

Yet my heart overflowed with kindness and the love of virtue. I had begun life with benevolent intentions and thirsted for the moment when I should put them in practice and make myself useful to my fellow beings. Now all was blasted. Instead of that serenity of conscience which allowed me to look back upon the past with self satisfaction, and from thence to gather promise of new hopes, I was seized by remorse and the sense of guilt which hurried me away to a hell of intense tortures such as.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

No language can describe.

[Faith Moore]

This state of mind preyed upon my health, which had perhaps never entirely recovered from the first shock it had sustained. I shunned the face of man. All sound of joy or complacency was torture to me. Solitude was my only consolation. Deep, dark, deathlike solitude. My father observed with pain the alteration perceptible in my disposition and habits, and endeavored by arguments deduced from the feelings of his serene conscience and guiltless life, to inspire me with fortitude and awaken in me the courage to dispel the dark cloud which brooded over me. Do you not think, Victor, said he, that I do not suffer also? No one could love a child more than I loved your brother. Tears came into his eyes as he spoke. But is it not a duty to the survivors that we should refrain from augmenting their happiness by an appearance of immoderate grief? It is also a duty owed to yourself, for excessive sorrow prevents improvement or enjoyment, or even the discharge of daily usefulness, without which no man is fit for society. This advice, although good, was totally inapplicable in my case. I should have been the first to hide my grief and console my friends, if remorse had not mingled its bitterness and terror, its alarm, with my other sensations. Now I could only answer my father with a look of despair and endeavour to hide myself from his view. About this time we retired to our house at Belle Reeve. This change was particularly agreeable to me. The shutting of the gates regularly at 10 o' clock and the impossibility of remaining on the lake after that hour had rendered our residence within the walls of Geneva very irksome to me. I was now free. Often, after the rest of the family had retired for the night, I took the boat and passed many hours upon the water. Sometimes, with my sails set, I was carried by the wind. And sometimes, after rowing into the middle of the lake, I left the boat to pursue its own course and gave way to my own miserable reflections. I was often tempted when all was at peace around me, and I the only unquiet thing that wandered restless in a scene so beautiful and heavenly. If I, except some bat or the frogs, whose harsh and interrupted croaking was heard only when I approached the shore. Often I say I was tempted to plunge into the silent lake, that the waters might close over me and my calamities forever. But I was restrained. When I thought of the heroic and suffering Elizabeth, whom I tenderly loved and whose existence was bound up in mine. I thought also of my father and surviving brother. Should I, by my base desertion, leave them exposed and unprotected to the malice of the fiend whom I had let loose among them? At these moments I wept bitterly and wished that peace would revisit my mind, only that I might afford them consolation and happiness. But that could not be. Remorse extinguished every hope. I had been the author of unalterable evils, and I lived in daily fear lest the monster whom I had created should perpetrate some new wickedness. I had an obscure feeling that all was not over and that he would still commit some signal crime which by its enormity should almost efface the recollection of the past. There was always scope for fear. So long as anything I loved remained behind meaning. As long as there are people that Victor loves, there's the danger that the monster could kill them. My abhorrence of this fiend cannot be conceived. When I thought of him, I gnashed my teeth, my eyes became inflamed, and I ardently wished to extinguish that life which I had so thoughtlessly bestowed. When I reflected on his crimes and malice, my hatred and revenge burst all bounds of moderation. I would have made a pilgrimage to the highest peak of the Andes. Could I, when there, have precipitated him to their base meaning? If he could have thrown the monster down from the mountain to kill him, then he would have done it. I wished to see him again, that I might wreak the utmost extent of abhorrence on his head and avenge the deaths of William and Justine. Our house was the house of mourning. My father's health was deeply shaken by the horrors of the recent events. Elizabeth was sad and desponding. She no longer took delight in her ordinary occupations. All pleasure seemed to her. Sacrilege toward the dead. Eternal woe and tears, she then thought, was the just tribute she should pay to innocence so blasted and destroyed. She was no longer the happy creature who in earlier youth wandered with me on the banks of the lake and talked with ecstasy of our future prospects. The first of those sorrows which are sent to wean us from the earth had visited her, and its dimming influence quenched her dearest smiles.

[Listener/Commenter]

When I reflect, my dear cousin, said she, on the miserable death of Justine Moritz spirits, I no longer see the world and its works as they before appeared to me. Before, I looked upon the accounts of vice and injustice that I read in books or heard from others as tales.

[Faith Moore]

Of ancient days or imaginary evils.

[Listener/Commenter]

At least they were remote and more.

[Faith Moore]

Familiar to reason than to the imagination.

[Listener/Commenter]

But now misery has come home, and men appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other's blood.

[Faith Moore]

Yet I am certainly unjust.

[Listener/Commenter]

Everybody believed that poor girl to be guilty. And if she could have committed the crime for which she suffered assuredly, she would have been the most depraved of human creatures for the sake of a few jewels, to have murdered the son of her benefactor and friend, a child whom she had nursed from its birth and appeared to love as if it had been her own. I could not consent to the death.

[Faith Moore]

Of any human being. But certainly I should have thought such.

[Listener/Commenter]

A creature unfit to remain in the society of men. But she was innocent. I know. I feel she was innocent. You are of the same opinion, and that confirms me. Alas, Victor, when falsehood can look so like the truth, who can assure themselves of certain happiness? I feel as if I were walking on the edge of a precipice towards which thousands are crowding and endeavouring to plunge me into the abyss. William and Justine were assassinated, and the murderer escapes. He walks about the world free and perhaps respected. But even if I were condemned to suffer on the scaffold for the same crimes, I would not change places with such a wretch.

[Faith Moore]

So she's saying that she would rather.

Die than be the sort of person.

Who could murder another human being. I listened to this discourse with the extremest agony. I not in deed, but in effect, was the true murderer. Elizabeth read my anguish in my countenance, and kindly taking my hand, said, my.

[Listener/Commenter]

Dearest friend, you must calm yourself. These events have affected me God knows how deeply. But I am not so wretched as you are. There is an expression of despair and sometimes of revenge in your countenance that makes me tremble. Dear Victor, banish these dark passions. Remember the friends around you who center all their hopes in you. Have we lost the power of rendering you happy? Ah, while we love, while we are true to each other, here in this land of peace and beauty, your native country we may reap every tranquil blessing what can disturb our peace.

[Faith Moore]

And could not such words from her, whom I fondly prized before every other gift of fortune, suffice to chase away the fiend that lurked in my heart? Even as she spoke, I drew near to her as if in terror, lest at that very moment the destroyer had been near to rob me of her. Thus not the tenderness of friendship, nor the beauty of earth, nor of heaven could redeem my soul from woe. The very accents of love were ineffectual. I was encompassed by a cloud which no beneficial influence could penetrate. The wounded deer, dragging its fainting limbs to some untrodden brake, there to gaze upon the arrow which had pierced it, and to die was but a type of me. Sometimes I could cope with the sullen despair that overwhelmed me, but sometimes the whirlwind passions of my soul drove me to seek, by bodily exercise and by change of place, some relief from my intolerable sensations. It was during an access of this kind that I suddenly left my home and, bending my steps towards the near alpine valleys, sought in their magnificence the eternity of such scenes to forget myself and my ephemeral. Because human sorrows, my wanderings were directed toward the valley of Chamonix. I had visited it frequently during my boyhood. Six years had passed since then I was a wreck. But naught had changed in those savage and enduring scenes. I performed the first part of my journey on horseback. I afterwards hired a mule as the more sure footed and least liable to receive injury on these rugged roads. The weather was fine. It was about the middle of the month of August, nearly two months after the death of Justine, that miserable epoch from which I dated all my woe. The weight upon my spirit was sensibly lightened as I plunged yet deeper in the ravine of Arve, the immense mountains and precipices that overhung me on every side. The sound of the river raging among the rocks and the dashing of the waterfalls around spoke of a power mighty as omnipotence. And I ceased to fear or to bend before any being less almighty than that which had created and ruled the elements here displayed in their most terrific guise. Still, as I ascended higher, the valley assumed a more magnificent and astonishing character. Ruined castles hanging on the precipices of piny mountains, the impetuous ARV The ARV Being the river and cottages every here and there, peeping forth from among the trees, formed a scene of singular beauty. But it was augmented and rendered sublime by the mighty Alps, whose White and shining pyramids and domes towered above all as belonging to another earth, the habitations of another race of beings. I passed the bridge of Pelissier, where the ravine which the river forms opened before me, and I began to ascend the mountain that overhangs it. Soon after I entered the valley of Chamouni. This valley is more wonderful and sublime, but not so beautiful and picturesque as that of Servo, through which I had just passed. The high and snowy mountains were its immediate boundaries, but I saw no more ruined castles and fertile fields. Immense glaciers approached the road. I heard the rumbling thunder of the falling avalanche and marked the smoke of its passage. Mont Blanc, the supreme and magnificent Mont Blanc, raised itself from the surrounding aiguilles. An aiguil is a sharp pinnacle of rock on a mountain range and its tremendous dome overlooked the valley. A tingling, long lost sense of pleasure often came across me during this journey. Some turn in the road, some new object suddenly perceived and recognized, reminded me of days gone by and were associated with the light hearted gaiety of boyhood. The very winds whispered in soothing accents and maternal nature bade me weep no more. Then again the kindly influence ceased to act. I found myself fettered again to grief and indulging in all the misery of reflection. Then I spurred on my animal striving so to forget the world, my fears, and more than all myself, or in a more desperate fashion, I alighted and threw myself on the grass, weighed down by horror and despair. At length I arrived at the village of Chamonix. Exhaustion succeeded to the extreme fatigue, both of body and of mind, which I had endured for a short space of time. I remained at the window, watching the pallid lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of the arve which pursued its noisy way beneath. The same lulling sounds acted as a lullaby to my keen sensations. When I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me. I felt it as I came and blessed the giver of oblivion. Chapter 10 I spent the following day roaming through the valley. I stood beside the sources of the arviron, which take their rise in a glacier that with slow pace is advancing down from the summit of the hills to barricade the valley. The abrupt sides of vast mountains were before me. The icy wall of the glacier overhung me. A few shattered pines were scattered around, and the solemn silence of this glorious presence, chamber of imperial nature was broken only by the brawling waves or the fall of some vast fragment. The thunder sound of the avalanche or the cracking reverberated along the mountains of the accumulated ice, which through the silent working of immutable laws was ever and anon rent and torn as if it had been but a plaything in their hands. These sublime and magnificent scenes afforded me the greatest consolation that I was capable of receiving. They elevated me from all littleness of feeling, and although they did not remove my grief, they subdued and tranquillized it. In some degree also they diverted my mind from the thoughts over which it had brooded for the last month. I retired to rest at night, My slumbers, as it were, waited on and ministered to by the assemblance of grand shapes which I had contemplated during the day. They congregated round me. The unstained snowy mountain top, the glittering pinnacle, the pine woods and ragged bare ravine, the eagle soaring amidst the clouds. They all gathered round me and bade me be at peace. So he's saying in sleep he sees all the beautiful and magnificent things that he saw during the day, and it helps to calm him. Where had they fled when the next morning I awoke, all of soul inspiriting fled with sleep, and dark melancholy clouded every thought. The rain was pouring in torrents, and thick mists hid the summits of the mountains, so that I even saw not the faces of those mighty friends. Still I would penetrate their misty veil and seek them in their cloudy retreats. What were rain and storm to me. My mule was brought to the door, and I resolved to ascend to the summit of Montanvert. I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous and ever moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first saw had then filled me with a sublime ecstasy that gave wings to the soul and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy. The sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed always the effect of solemnizing my mind and causing me to forget the passing cares of life. I determined to go without a guide, for I was well acquainted with the path, and the presence of another would destroy the solitary grandeur of the scene. The ascent is precipitous, meaning it's steep and dangerous. But the path is cut into continual and short windings which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of the mountain. It is a scene terrifically desolate. In a thousand spots. The traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived where trees lie broken and strewed on the ground, some entirely destroyed, others bent, leaning upon the jutting rocks of the mountain, or transversely upon other trees. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines of snow down which stones continually roll from above. One of them is particularly dangerous, as the slightest sound, such as even speaking in a loud voice, produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw destruction upon the head of the speaker, meaning that at this one part of the path any sound can cause an avalanche. The pines are not tall or luxuriant, but they are somber and add an air of severity to the scene. I looked on the valley beneath. Vast mists were rising from the rivers which ran through it and curling in thick wreaths around the opposite mountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds while rain poured from the dark sky and added to the melancholy impression I received from the objects around me. Alas. Why does man boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute? It only renders them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst and desire, we might be nearly free. But now we are moved by every wind that blows and a chance word or scene that that word may convey to us. We rest. A dream has power to poison sleep. We rise. One wandering thought pollutes the day. We feel conceive or reason, laugh or weep, embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away. It is the same, for be it joy or sorrow, the path of its departure still is free. Man's yesterday may ne' er be like his morrow. Naught may endure but mutability. So mutability means change. So he's saying that the only constant is change. And he wishes he could be like an animal who doesn't have to think or feel, but just is. It was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent. For some time I sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice. A mist covered both that and the surrounding mountains. Presently a breeze dissipated the cloud, and I descended upon the glacier. The surface is very uneven, rising like the waves of a troubled sea, descending low and interspersed by rifts that sink deep. The field of ice is almost a league in width, but I spent nearly two hours in crossing it. The opposite mountain is a bare, perpendicular rock. From the side where I now stood, Montanvert was exactly opposite, at the distance of a league. And above it rose Mont Blanc in awful majesty. I remained in a recess of the rock, gazing on this wonderful and stupendous scene. The sea, or rather the vast river of ice, wound among its dependent mountains, whose aerial summits hung over its recesses. Their icy and glittering peaks shone in the sunlight over the clouds. My heart, which was before sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy. I Exclaimed wandering spirits.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

If indeed ye wander and do not.

[Faith Moore]

Rest in your narrow beds, allow me this faint happiness, or take me as your companion away from the joys of life. So he's calling on some supernatural force.

To either let him be happy or.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

Just let him die.

[Faith Moore]

As I said this, I suddenly beheld the figure of a man at some distance, advancing towards me with superhuman speed. He bounded over the crevices in the ice among which I had walked with caution. His stature also, as he approached, seemed to exceed that of a man. I was troubled. A mist came over my eyes, and I felt a faintness seize me. But I was quickly restored by the cold gale of the mountains. I perceived, as the shape came nearer.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

Sight tremendous and abhorred, that it was the wretch whom I had created.

[Faith Moore]

I trembled with rage and horror, resolving to wait his approach and then close.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

With him in mortal combat.

[Faith Moore]

So he's going to wait for the creature to reach him and then fight him to the death he approached. His countenance bespoke bitter anguish combined with disdain and malignity, while its unearthly ugliness rendered it almost too horrible for human eyes. But I scarcely observed this. Rage and hatred had at first deprived me of utterance, and I recovered only to overwhelm him with words expressive of furious detestation and contempt.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

Devil.

[Faith Moore]

I exclaimed.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

Do you dare approach me? And do not you fear the fierce.

[Faith Moore]

Vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head?

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

Begone, vile insect.

[Faith Moore]

Or rather stay, that I may trample you to dust.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

And, oh, that I could, with the extinction of your miserable existence, restore those.

[Faith Moore]

Victims whom you have so diablo diabolically murdered.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

I expected this reception, said the demon. All men hate the wretched. How then must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things? Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You propose to kill me? How dare you sport thus with life? Do your duty towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of mankind. If you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and you at peace. But if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death until it be satiated with the blood of your remaining friends.

[Faith Moore]

So he's saying Victor must do what he's going to ask him, or he'll kill all his friends.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

Abhorred monster. Fiend that thou art, the tortures of hell are too mild a vengeance for thy crimes. Wretched devil. You Reproach me with your creation. Come on, then, that I may extinguish the spark which I so negligently bestowed.

[Faith Moore]

My rage was without bounds. I sprang on him, impelled by all the feelings which can arm one being against the existence of another.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

He easily eluded me and said, be calm. I entreat you to hear me before you give vent to your hatred. On my devoted head. Have I not suffered enough that you seek to increase my misery? Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself. My height is superior to thine, my joints more supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. I am thy creature. And I will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king, if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest me. O Frankenstein, be not equitable to every other and trample upon me alone to whom thy justice and even thy clemency and affection is most due.

[Faith Moore]

So he's saying that Victor owes him love because he created him, but has shown him only hatred, even though he loves other people.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

Remember that I am thy creature. I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel whom thou drivest from joy. For no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss.

[Faith Moore]

From which I alone am irrevocably excluded.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

I was benevolent and good. Misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous. Begone. I will not hear you. There can be no community between you and me. We are enemies. Begone. Or let us try our strength in a fight in which one must fall? How can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a favourable eye upon thy creature who implores thy goodness and compassion? Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent. My soul glowed with love and humanity. But am I not alone? Miserably alone. You, my creator, abhor me. What hope can I gather from your fellow creatures who owe me nothing? They spurn and hate me. The desert, mountains and dreary glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days. The caves of ice, which I only do not fear, are a dwelling to me and the only one which man does not grudge. These bleak skies I hail, for they are kinder to me than your fellow beings. If the multitude of mankind knew of my existence, they would do as you do and arm themselves for my destruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keep no terms with my enemies I am miserable, and they shall share my wretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompense me and deliver them from an evil which it only remains for you to make so great that not only you and your family, but thousands of others shall be swallowed up in the whirlwinds of its rage. Let your compassion be moved, and do not disdain me. Listen to my tales when you have heard that. Abandon or commiserate me, and you shall judge that I deserve. But hear me. The guilty are allowed by human laws, bloody as they are, to speak in their own defence before they are condemned. Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder, and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. O praise the eternal justice of man. Yet I ask you not to spare me. Listen to me. And then, if you can, and if you will destroy the work of your hands, why do you call to my remembrance? I rejoined circumstances of which I shudder to reflect, that I have been the miserable origin and author. Cursed be the day, abhorred devil, in.

[Faith Moore]

Which you first saw light.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

Cursed, although I curse myself, be the hands that formed you.

[Faith Moore]

You have made me wretched beyond expression. You have left me no power to.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

Consider whether I am just to you or not. Begone. Relieve me from the sight of your detested form. Thus I relieve thee, my creator, he.

[Faith Moore]

Said, and placed his hated hands before my eyes, which I flung from me with violence.

[Victor Frankenstein / The Creature]

Thus I take from thee a sight which you abhor. Still thou canst listen to me and grant me thy compassion. By the virtues that I once possessed. I demand this from you. Hear my tale. It is long and strange, and the temperature of this place is not fitting to your fine sensations. Come to the hut upon the mountain. The sun is yet high in the heavens. Before it descends to hide itself behind your snowy precipices and illuminate another world. You will have heard my story and can decide on you it rests whether I quit forever the neighborhood of man and lead a harmless life, or become the scourge of your fellow creatures and the author of your own speedy ruin.

[Faith Moore]

So if Victor listens to the monster's story and does something that the monster will ask him to do afterward, then.

The monster will go away and leave everyone alone.

But if Victor won't, Then the monster is going to kill everyone he can.

Get his hands on.

As he said this, he led the way across the ice. I followed. My heart was full and I did not answer him. But as I proceeded, I weighed the various arguments that he had used and determined at least to listen to his tale. I was partly urged by curiosity, and compassion confirmed my resolution. I had hitherto supposed him to be the murderer of my brother, and I eagerly sought a confirmation or denial of this opinion. For the first time also, I felt what the duties of a Creator towards his creature were, and that I ought to render him happy. Before I complained of his wickedness. These motives urged me to comply with his demand. We crossed the ice, therefore, and ascended the opposite rock. The air was cold, and the rain again began to descend. We entered the hut, the fiend with an air of exultation, I with a heavy heart and depressed spirits. But I consented to listen, and seating myself by the fire which my odious companion had lighted, he thus began his tale. Thank you so much for listening. I'd love to know what you thought of the chapters. Is there anything you'd like me to clarify? Did something particularly interest you? Please go to my website, faithkmoore.com, click on Contact and send me your questions and thoughts. Or you can click on the link in the Show Notes to contact me. I'll feature one or two of your entries at the start of the next episode. Speaking of links, don't forget to take a look at the other links in the Show Notes. You can learn more about me, check out our merch store, or become a member of the Storytime for Grown Ups online community. Before I go, I'd like to ask a quick favor. This is an independent podcast. It's produced, recorded and marketed by me, so I need your help. Spread the word about the show by posting about it on social media or texting a link to your friends. Subscribe, tap those five stars and leave a positive review wherever you're listening. If you are able to support the show financially, there's a link in the.

Show Notes to make a donation.

I would really, really appreciate it. Alright everyone, story time is over. To be continued.