The Frankenstein Papers

by Fred Saberhagen

  When we reach the neighborhood of Paris, we shall go into hiding, rather than try to approach you directly—this at least unless I have some instruction from you to the contrary. You will be able to reach me through the same person as before, when I was last lodging in the vicinity. I appreciate, and so does my companion, that the peace negotiations, especially in what must be so sensitive a stage as they now are, ought not to be disturbed by the intrusion of other matters, even those as important as this one will ultimately be to all mankind.

  It crosses my mind, as I meditate upon a thing or two I heard in London, that it might be wise for us to seek information, perhaps guidance, from this man Mesmer, who as I hear is now returned to Paris. Have you any thoughts upon that point? In any case, Sir be assured that for the time being, we are both well and safe. Good health and good fortune attend you until I see you again.

  Your affectionate Son,

  B. Freeman

  LETTER 10

  March 7,1783 Paris

  Dear Sir—

  We have arrived here safely, in the midst of Carnival. I was relieved to find waiting for me your communication regarding your wish to see both of us at Passy tomorrow night. We shall be there; I think a boat quietly to your landing stage will be the best means of approach.

  Meanwhile, this letter will serve as the preliminary report for which you say you cannot wait.

  To begin with, since we have reached the city my companion is in better spirits than I have ever seen him before. Carnival, as I perhaps ought to have expected, suits his nature admirably; in the midst of this communal delirium he is for once able to move abroad with perfect freedom, at least by night. I have money available, and already both of us are masked and well costumed. My tall friend has turned into a jester (it was the one costume readily available that could be made to fit) while I cavort around him in the guise of a fantastic ape.

  Here in the city the entire populace seems to have gone mad, as is usual for this season in Paris. Last night when we arrived the streets were thronged, and the crowds have continued through the day. Vehicles of all kinds, bearing revelers, press their way slowly through the mobs that clog the streets on foot. Even the poor, who a few days ago were almost lifeless, here and now are ready to paint their faces, make what variations in their ragged clothing they are able, and celebrate. From the simply painted countenances of the poor to the most fantastic extravagances of the wealthy, the populace display their determination to make merry; the city at night (turned almost to day by the light of countless candles and torches) takes on the aspect of a fever dream or nightmare. I wish that your health allowed you to tour it more freely. Nothing in England, I believe, nor in America, can present a spectacle to compare with this.

  On a more practical level, it is a relief to me to find myself once again in a city where I need not be so careful to conceal my relationship with you. Scarcely had we arrived before I encountered one of our mutual friends, who recognized me (this was before I had put on my costume) and insisted that I come with him at once to visit Cagliostro. He was all excitement at the prospect, though I gather that among many here the enthusiasm for this mountebank has already passed. The devotees of Mesmer on the other hand, they tell me (and you doubtless know better than I) are still increasing in numbers.

  As I had already toyed with the idea of visiting the "Count," I readily enough assented to the proposal. My friend (the tall and nameless one, I mean) came with me, though at the last minute he decided it would be wiser of him to remain outside the house, among the revelers in the street, from whence I could summon him in if there appeared any reason for doing so. Our friend who was to have performed the introductions abandoned us at the last moment, alas, in pursuit of fairer game, but as it turned out his defection scarcely mattered.

  Count Cagliostro did see the two of us, jester and ape, together briefly, as I entered, but what he made of the towering figure of my companion, who came no farther than the doorway, I have no means of knowing. The celebrity, while in my hearing, made no comment on the appearance of my friend, being doubtless afraid of doing anything that might help to create a rival to himself for the enthusiasm of the crowd.

  Cagliostro is a man of average height, and somewhat more than average weight. His age is presently about forty, if one judges by normal physical appearances and does not take too seriously his calm eyewitness accounts of, and claims to have taken part in, certain affairs that predate the Christian era. He has bulging dark eyes, a short neck, and a dark complexion—and, I assure you, an air of competence and force, a commanding presence that cannot appear in the simple physical description I here present. On the night I saw him, he was outfitted in a scarlet jacket and trousers, and wore a ceremonial sword to which I am sure he has no more real right than you or I would have—less, I expect, if the truth were acknowledged about his birth. With him as his constant companion was the lovely Mme de la Motte, of whom you have heard, I am sure; her beauty will need no description here from me.

  The great man, when finally I had the opportunity to approach him, more or less alone, did not disappoint me in the range of his conversation, only in its substance. He had much to say to me about his previous lives (which must indeed extend at least two thousand years into the past); about something he called "transcendent chemistry" of which, I think, neither you nor I have ever heard (nor have Lavoisier or Cavendish, I will wager) and also about "the great Arcana of Memphis," whatever that may be.

  When Cagliostro began to speak of giants, and of reviving the dead, you may be sure that my ears pricked up; but he never mentioned Frankenstein (although Walton's book is of course a common topic of conversation here) again, I suppose, not wishing to publicize one whom he must consider a rival for the attentions of the public.

  The giants he did mention soon came to nothing, being wafted away in the breezes of his conversation on other topics even more marvelous. They were last seen somewhere in the interior of Africa, along with a most impressive city that the Count has visited there, and which he swears to have ten times the population of Paris itself. I expressed polite agreement with all that I was told, and as soon as the conventions of society allowed I took my leave.

  My tall friend was awaiting me anxiously in the street, and was disappointed but not surprised when I related the incidents of the visit. But the evening's social encounters were not yet over. After departing the establishment where Cagliostro held forth, my tall friend and I also encountered in the confusion of Carnival the well-known Dr. Joseph-Ignace Guillotin, a professor of anatomy, and, I gather, of much else besides.

  Again my traveling companion contrived to disappear into a nearby celebration (such were the crowds that he was scarcely conspicuous) while the Doctor and I conversed, shouting above the noise. Mutual friends assure me that Dr. Guillotin has a great penchant and reputation for conceiving projects and inventions intended to benefit mankind. When I mentioned to him in a casual way that some experimenters hope to be able to revive the dead by the galvanic method, he at once and vociferously declared any such scheme to be arrant nonsense. I was careful to frame none of my succeeding questions to him in such a way that he might possibly suspect me of taking such matters seriously.

  So, as you see, Father, the brief time we have so far spent in Paris has been vastly entertaining, but I fear that nothing has happened to advance our investigation in the slightest. My chief hope now is that you, having read and digested all of my reports, will be able to shed more light on the matter for us both tomorrow.

  Your Son,

  Benjamin Freeman

  Chapter 14

  March 9, 1783 Paris

  I have been to see Franklin for the second time in my life, and we have talked again. In a sense I learned very little from the conversation, but somehow I am not disappointed. There is something so reassuring about the man, in his quick intelligence and his willingness to listen, and to think along new lines—perhaps most of all in the love of life that is so evident in him. I feel
that he is capable of understanding me as perhaps no one else can do, not even my creator.

  Let me describe the day from the beginning.

  After a late night of wandering, singing, laughing among throngs of people_I cannot say of revelry, for my mental state was not such as to bear that easy classification_after such late activities, I say, Freeman and I both slept late in our snug room, my short friend in the bed, and I, amply supplied with cushions and spare bedding, diagonally on the floor.

  From about midday we were out among the revelers again. It is a tremendous sense of freedom that I feel in thus roaming at liberty through the costumed crowds, most of whom are ready to hail my monstrous form in a friendly fashion if they take note of me at all. But already I am aware—as I was when I lay with Kunuk—of an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. These people do not wave to me. We are coming from enormous distances to meet.

  In midafternoon a message of warning was passed to my companion in the street, by one of the same couriers who regularly carry communications between Freeman and his father while Freeman is in Paris. Saville and a party of men had been observed, boldly crossing the Channel. It might be thought that as a citizen of England, still technically at war with France, our archenemy would put himself into some considerable danger by so doing—but he may well have managed to get himself accredited somehow as a delegate to the peace talks. Whether that is the true explanation or not, I am sure that some high-level understanding exists, making this a safe land for him to travel in—safer than for me. The powerful and wealthy have, in a very real sense, their own nationality.

  After digesting this disquieting news about Saville, my friend and I laid low until the time came for us to keep our appointment with Franklin. Freeman changed his costume in our room, and we separated when we left it. I had no other costume that would fit me, and I cannot, of course, disguise my height. But I left our room by means of the window and the rooftops, and was not molested. We met again at a prearranged place on the river-bank, where a boat was waiting to take us the short distance down the Seine to Passy.

  The Hotel de Valentinois, where Franklin has now been in residence for seven years, has its own landing stage. Freeman and I were met there by a guide, under the observance of a couple of armed men; and from thence, our faces muffled with cloaks, were conducted on a winding uphill path among trees and bushes, until we were at the house itself, which seems almost worthy to be called a chateau; it is finely built, and the ceilings of all the rooms I entered were high enough to let me stand erect beneath them.

  One last time, at a side door of the house, we had to wait; then we were shown in, and up some stairs, to a large, cheerful, private room warmed by a crackling fire, the same room wherein I had met Franklin on my previous visit. As before, desk and tables were littered with books, papers, and writing materials. On one small table at one side of the pleasant room, a set of ebony and ivory chessmen waited, in the midst of an interrupted game or problem.

  The room also contained a great deal of equipment for electrical experiments. From a chair in front of a table laden with such apparatus Benjamin Franklin rose to give us greetings as we entered. He appears today scarcely changed from when I saw him last; in his case another year or two added to eighty-odd have had but small effect.

  Franklin and his son embraced each other warmly as they exchanged greetings. It is obvious that there is a strong natural affection between them, as well as respect for each other's abilities. I could not help overhearing some discussion of how Mother—obviously not Franklin's wife, who died a few years ago—was faring in Virginia.

  But very soon the great man tilted back his head to meet my eye, eager to give me his full attention. "Sir, I welcome you again. You have traveled far and perhaps learned much since last we met; while I, I fear, am in the same room still, and only doubtfully any the wiser."

  I was provided with a seat, in the form of some cushions strewn upon the floor; my host remembering from the occasion of my last visit what peculiar seating arrangement I really found most comfortable.

  My traveling companion was then sent, or called, out of the room, having as I understood to make some detailed report upon some other matter of politics or business in which he had been engaged with his father and others.

  Benjamin Franklin and I were alone, and the aged man, now seated in his own comfortable chair, turned to me. Our faces were nearly at a level, with me sitting on the floor.

  Franklin asked eagerly: "And have you still no name?"

  "None, sir. None that I know of."

  "Ah. It is very strange." He meditated for a little time in silence. "And the memories? Have more of them returned?"

  "Not enough to help." I told him, in broad out-line, of my adventures since we had last met. He interrupted me frequently, with questions about Frankenstein, and his countenance grew sad at the news I had to relate about the son of his old friend Alphonse. He had heard of Victor's release from prison—largely through the belated influence of Saville—of his marriage, and the tragic loss upon his wedding night of his dear bride Elizabeth.

  We returned to my own situation. "And has Priestley seen you?" Franklin asked. "Or Lavoisier?"

  "No. Frankenstein and the others have generally kept me out of sight of other men of science."

  "Ah." It was a sigh, that seemed burdened with several meanings. "There is as much jealousy among philosophers, I fear, as among whores.". Franklin shook his head. "The more I have considered your case, my friend, the more I am puzzled by it. Are you never struck by the sheer unlikelihood, (or so it seems to me), of anyone being able to do what Frankenstein has claimed to do? I pray you believe that it is not my own jealousy that speaks. No one else, to my knowledge, has been able to animate so much as a mouse, or a toad."

  I sipped lightly at the brandy I had been given. I had tasted strong drink but rarely. It called up in my brain such clouds as made me fear all memories were lost forever. "The point, I admit, has suggested itself to me. And yet, sir, here I am."

  "Aye, here you are. From somewhere. Perhaps young Frankenstein has, through some happy accident, learned much of the nature of life, as he claims. Perhaps, with all our boasts of progress in philosophy, we in general know too little even to be able to judge of the difficulty of such matters.

  Perhaps some simple key to great treasure lies waiting to be found."

  But he did not believe it.

  We discoursed further on the subject of Frankenstein, and on that of the evil men with whom the philosopher had become involved.

  "I did not tell my son of that first meeting between us, because I wished him to approach the investigation with an entirely open mind. I knew that I had entertained someone here in 1781—yourself. But whether you were in fact the creature Frankenstein claimed to have created…" My host spread his hands and raised his shoulders in an expressive shrug.

  "If I am not that creature, who am I?"

  "In either case there arise perplexing questions."

  Franklin continued to see no prospect of being able to act against Saville without upsetting the all-important peace talks, which occupied most of his daytime efforts.

  He spread his aged hands once more, this time in a gesture of helplessness. "My friend, I must repeat what I said to you on the occasion of your previous visit. It would please me greatly to have you stay here as my guest, to converse with you at great length, and with your permission have certain physicians examine you. And yet I fear that in the circumstances for me to issue such an invitation is impossible."

  "I quite understand, Sir. But I hope that we may at least meet frequently. There is nowhere else I can turn for help in solving the great questions that perplex and trouble me."

  "I shall certainly try to arrange something. Believe me, my curiosity as to your nature and origins can be exceeded only by your own."

  Standing and stretching—I do enjoy high ceilings—I went to examine some of the electrical equipment near his desk. Immediately my host, with his usu
al lively curiosity, began to question me as to the resemblances and differences I noted in comparison with the machinery that Frankenstein had used. The two sets of apparatus were much alike, I thought. The same glass tubes, gold leaf, rods and wires… but it struck me suddenly that there should be something more. A great deal more, perhaps, required for the successful completion of electrical experiments. Or… but what?

  Old memory, dropping infuriating hints like a jester propounding a riddle, said that something was missing. Whatever it was had been missing also in Frankenstein's laboratories, or at least in the ones of his I could remember. There ought to be more to an electrical experimenter's machinery than this. Tantalizing old memories danced before me, they came and went before they could be pressed into being useful. I stood with eyes tight shut, clenched fists at my forehead, trying to seize the dancing phantoms as they passed.

  "What is the matter?" Franklin's voice, concerned, sounded from behind me.

  "Almost… almost, that time, I had something," I shrugged, and gave up; everything was gone.

  "Come, another brandy. It will brace you up. Here. To friendship, and to new discoveries."

  We drank to that. I felt moderately encouraged by the near success of my efforts to remember. Next time, perhaps, I should succeed.

  I could remember my creator's apparatus quite clearly from my experiences on the island, and my visit to his workroom in Saville's mansion. Though I had no clear remembrance of what the equipment had been like in that room where I first saw the light, if not of day, then of the world. Flax, metal foil, oiled silk, Leyden jars, the probes and wires—all the usual materials and devices, nothing new or unexpected. Whatever was lacking here, if there was truly something lacking, had been missing there as well.

  I communicated my feelings, my impressions, as well as possible to my host.