The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein

22

I LEFT LIMEHOUSE in a state of exaltation. I was sure that my long bondage to the creature was now at an end. I walked down the highway, past the small streets where those in search of strange sights and sensations were always to be found. I walked in perfect safety. I turned a corner and, glancing quickly to my right, I saw Polidori. He was standing in the shadows, but he was perfectly recognisable to me. In my mood of triumph I decided to make a chase of it. I stood in the street and gave him ample time to notice me. Then I walked with rapid step towards Ratcliff and Whitechapel, and threaded my way through the narrow streets that comprise the neighbourhood. I believed that I could hear footsteps somewhere behind me; so I turned into an alley, and waited. When Polidori passed me I stepped out and took him by the arm. “Good evening,” I said. “I see that we frequent the same neighbourhood.”

He turned towards me, and became quite still. “Perhaps I am in search of adventure?”

“No. You are in search of me.”

He was silent for a moment. “You interest me, Victor, I admit it. You have an understanding altogether more vast than mere-”

“So you have gone through my papers, as I suspected. Is it not so?” I no longer cared to conceal anything. “What have you seen?”

“Wonderful things. But I cannot find the key.”

“And I hold the key. That is why you follow me.”

He had recovered his self-possession. “I told you that I wish to know your secrets. I believe that you are conducting, performing, how shall I put it, something unusual?”

He had found the proper opportunity. My exhilaration and sense of achievement were such that I might have cried them aloud in the streets. “Mine is a strange case,” I said.

“I knew it.”

“You will not believe me.”

“There is conviction on your face. That is enough for me.”

“Not conviction. But triumph. We cannot speak here.” I must have been perspiring very freely, for my clothes were quite wet.

I hailed a cab and we made our way to Jermyn Street. We sat in my study. I could hardly wait to tell the story of my success.

“Mine is a strange case. I don’t think there has ever been a stranger. I believe it to be unique.”

“Are you being serious, Frankenstein?”

“I dare say you will be ready to laugh at me.”

“Not at all. I want to understand you.”

“Oh, then you would have to go a long way back.” I told him then the whole story of my experiments. Throughout the long discourse, he said nothing. He was observing me in the most unusual way. “I can assure you, Polidori, that what I have told you is true and exact. Every stage of the proceedings is as I have outlined.”

When I paused, having told him of the first awakening of the creature, he leaned forward and whispered: “So this thing lived? Is that what you are telling me?” He put his hand to his forehead, in a gesture of extreme astonishment. His eyes were very wide.

I nodded. Then I added, in a low voice, “It still lives.” Polidori looked around the room in terror. “No. Not here. It lives on the estuary of the river. Away from human habitation.”

“You have seen it again?”

“Wait until I have reached the end of my story.” Then I told him the tale of Harriet Westbrook, and of the unlawful condemnation of her brother for her killing. I wept throughout the narrative, for in truth up to this time I had done my utmost to suppress it from my thoughts. Then I related to him the abduction and murder of the servant, Martha, beside the river at Marlow. I began to tell him the history of the creature’s subsequent visits to me. “It threatened me,” I said, “with such dreadful-” I stopped, and found myself to be shaking.

Polidori rose from the chair in an involuntary movement. “Is this possible, Frankenstein?” Again he looked around the room. “Why has this not been screamed out in the public prints? How can it live amongst us? Why has it not been hunted down?”

“It desires to live occluded and unknown. It does not wish to be hunted down, as you put it. It has ways of hiding itself from public view.”

“You must take some more wine,” Polidori said. He was as thoroughly frightened as I was, but he poured me another glass which I drained at once. “Are you calmer now?”

“Yes, very calm. And you?”

“Calm enough.”

“After a period the creature ceased to threaten, and began to plead with me. He wanted to be released from his miseries. I think he felt shame-regret-horror. All of those. I have sometimes thought that he may have committed some further act of foulness, and that it preyed upon his mind. Of this I cannot be sure. But he came to me asking for oblivion.”

“Thank God.”

“And I can grant him that wish.” I described to him the experiment upon the Barbary ape, omitting nothing of interest, and then I shared with him my plan for the destruction of the creature. “He will come to me now,” I told him. “I know it. He has a strange susceptibility to me. He will understand that the moment has come for his deliverance. Tomorrow I will see him for the last time.”

“May I suggest to you, Frankenstein, that you invite me also?”

“I doubt that he will wish for any other witness.”

“Yet in the case of failure or only partial success-”

“There will be no failure.”

“Do you remember the secret words for the golem? I have not told you this. They must be addressed to the golem by a Jew. Otherwise they will not prevail.” He paused for a moment. “I am of that faith.”

“Oh, I understand you now. You wish to deliver the words of anathema. You will pronounce the Jewish curse over him. It will not be necessary.”

“Allow me the possibility, at the very least.”

“If you wish. But he would be disturbed by your presence. I know it.”

“Then I will wait somewhere, in secrecy, for a message.”

“And how will I find a messenger? No. I believe that the creature will come to me at twilight. Twilight is his time. Leave me alone with him for a few hours. He may wish to make a final confession to me, or speak to me of other things. Come at midnight.”

I COULD NOT SLEEP. I was exhausted, but I was in such a fever of expectation that I could find no rest. I started up each moment, with a fresh image of the creature. Only towards dawn did I fall into a doze, broken by the sound of Polidori going down the stairs and opening the door into the street. I rose at once, washed myself, and prepared for what I believed to be a conclusive day in my fearful life.

As soon as I arrived at Limehouse I opened the door that led out to the river.

I waited for three or four hours, looking expectantly onto the water; in the late afternoon I walked to the little landing stage, and inhaled the scent of mud and tar that lingered on the bank. I was not impatient: I had known, even as I hurried from Jermyn Street, that he would not come until twilight. Slowly the air grew darker. A light breeze ruffled the water which was flowing steadily on an incoming tide, and I could see a flock of starlings heading for the marshes on the other side of the river. There was a faint light on the horizon, as the sun dipped lower through clouds. And then I saw him moving through the water; he reared himself upright as he approached me, and then ducked back into the river. I turned and walked into the workshop. I was quite calm when he stood in the doorway. “I have been waiting for you,” I said. “I knew that you would come.”

“How could I stay away, when my deliverance is near?”

“You are aware that my experiments have been successful? That my ambition has been accomplished?” He nodded. “So. What do you wish me to do?”

“You know what I wish for. Death. Forgetting. Oblivion and darkness.”

“I can promise you these things. Come forward.” He stepped into the light of an oil-lamp. He was wearing a pair of canvas breeches, such as shipmen wear, and a brown jacket; he had a shirt, but no stock, and I could see the yellow hairs upon his chest. He was barefoot, too. I surmised that he had led a harsh existence on the estuary.

“Do you have anything you wish to say before-anything you want to tell me?”

“Only that I suffer for my crimes. And I wish that suffering to end.”

“You repent?”

“Surely, sir, it is you who should repent? I did not ask to come into this world. I did not wish to rise again in such a form. Am I monstrous? Or are you monstrous? Is the world monstrous?” He stood in the flickering light, as woeful as I had ever seen him, and seemed to be studying the electrical equipment. “Am I to lie down here? This is where I was born, is it not?”

“If you could remove your clothes.”

“Otherwise they might burn?”

“It is possible. Yes. And then take your place upon the table. Your head facing this way.” He undressed and lay down in the position I suggested. I secured his wrists and ankles with the leather straps. There came from him the stench of mud and slime.

“The smell of the marshes,” he said as if he had guessed my thought. “I will stay quite still. You need not bind the straps too tightly.”

When he was prepared, I placed the electrical charges on his temples and at the very base of his spine. I looked at him, to assure him that all was ready. He closed his eyes, and sighed. When I released the electrical fluid his whole body shook violently, and then arched upwards breaking one of the straps upon his wrists; he seemed about to scream but the noise that came from him was a rasping cough. Dust came from his open mouth. Then his body subsided.

To my horror he opened his eyes. He could not speak but with his free hand he touched me. I started back with the knowledge that he had not been destroyed. “All is not lost,” I said to him. I realised that he could understand me. He nodded. “I will augment the level of the fluid. You are prepared for this?” He closed his eyes in assent. The second attempt was fearful. Again his body trembled and convulsed; there was some scorching of his left leg, and the smell of burning flesh filled the room. He seemed to fall into unconsciousness, with heavy and stertorous breathing. But still he was not dead. Without seeking his permission I tried a third time; again his flesh was charred, but all the signs of vital life remained. I could do no more. I released the straps by which he had been bound and, without seeing if he would rise, I sat down on a chair facing the window onto the river. I was utterly wearied and defeated. I had failed to destroy him: this thing, this burden, still weighed upon my life. After a while he joined me, sitting on the chair beside me; I could smell his burned flesh, but I felt no disgust or disdain. It was I, after all, who had been responsible. He tried to speak. His was no longer the melodious voice of the past, but a low murmur.

“I cannot die,” he said. “I will be in the world until the end of time. Is that so?”

“I do not know.”

“You know.”

“I have not the courage to look forward.”

“Yet what shall we do? My flesh will soon heal. That is nothing. Yet my mind and spirit will never heal.”

“We will share that fate then.”

He sat there, bent over, rocking backwards and forwards. “Make it stop,” he said. “Make it stop.”

I bowed my head, too. I do not know how long we sat there, side by side, but eventually we were roused by the sound of footsteps. It was Polidori. He had come down to the river bank, and was making his way across the landing stage. He came to the door of the workshop, and paused on the threshold. There was a look of bewilderment upon his face.

“Now you see my handiwork,” I said.

He came in, holding up a lamp, and stood before us.

“Behold the creature. This is what I have made.”

“Where?”

“Here. Before you.”

“There is no one here,” he said.

“Have you lost your wits? See here. Beside me. Here he sits.”

“There is nothing beside you, except an empty chair.”

“Nothing? I do not believe you. I know you lie.”

“Why should I lie, Victor?”

“To deceive me. To betray me. To enrage me.”

“There is nothing here. No one is with you. There is no creature.” He walked over to my electrical engines. “This is sad stuff, Victor.”

“What are you saying? Tell me this then. Tell me who killed Harriet and Martha?”

He looked intently at me. “I do not know who killed them.”

“There now. You have no answer.”

“You have lived in your imagination, Victor. You have dreamed all this. Invented it.”

“How so?”

“Perhaps you wished to rival Bysshe. Or Byron. You had longings for sublimity and power.”

“Enough. You are filling me with despair.”

“And what evil you may have done!” He paused for a moment. “What has happened to Fred?”

“Who is Fred?” the creature asked me in a whisper.

I did not know how to respond. How could I explain the disappearance of the child who had loved me? How could I say that his body was to be found in the limepit by the foreshore?

Polidori looked at me and then he asked: “Did you destroy Fred also?”

“I said enough!”

I sprang at him. I lunged forward and destroyed him. No, not I. The creature tore him to pieces with his bare hands.

Then we wandered out, the creature and I, into the world where we were taken up by the watchmen.

Given to me by the patient, Victor Frankenstein, on Wednesday November 15, 1822.

Signed by Fredrick Newman, Superintendent of the Hoxton Mental Asylum for Incurables.