The Frankenstein Papers

LETTER 2

November 3,1782

My esteemed Parent—

My life here at the university, or rather on its fringes, goes on apace. Most of the folk whom I encounter in Ingolstadt, I am sure, take it for granted that I am but another student—I am only a handful of years older than most of those in attendance. Still I flatter myself that were I to put on a solemn mien, I could convince many that I am a youngish master.

To my American eyes and ears this university is something of a strange place, filled with rumors of a secret society called Illuminaries, or Illuminists, and including in the student body, as it does, a number of young men whose favorite recreation, beyond drinking beer and wenching, seems to be duelling one another with swords.

And, perhaps rather more to our present purpose, there is the medical school.

I have learned that a certain medical student, enrolled here until four years ago, was named Saville—it is of course to a Mrs. Saville, in London, that the Walton letters are supposedly addressed. Whether this coincidence of names be more than a mere result of chance, is certainly one of the questions that ought to be answered in the course of my investigation. Quite possibly, if there is a real Mrs. Saville in London, it was she who arranged for their widespread publication.

The story here is that the student Saville, having attained the age of five-and-twenty years, came into a very considerable inheritance. At about that time he ceased to be a student, the former circumstance no doubt contributing materially to the latter. However, he continued in residence in Ingolstadt for some time, probably a month or two, after ceasing to attend the university. Alas, the well-to-do Ingolstadt Saville is no longer here, though in his case I have heard no report of death.

M. Krempe has been kind enough to let me audit one or two of his classes, and I am coming to think that his tirade against Frankenstein should not be taken too seriously. While I was in his presence the good professor delivered at least two more similar outbursts, one against lazy students In general, and the other targeted (sorry, Father, I know you dislike the cobbling of good nouns into verbs; perhaps it is my recent efforts to speak German that derange my English) against some unnamed colleagues on the faculty, for precisely what crime I am not sure.

I do have the feeling, however, that the professor's feelings against Frankenstein are especially bitter, as if there had been at one time some real affection, now betrayed.

As for M. Waldman, the speech I have heard him deliver to a group of beginning chemistry students was but little different, I think, from one that is recorded in the Walton papers:

The ancient teachers of this science promised impossibilities and performed nothing. The modern masters promise very little; they know that metals cannot be transformed, and that the elixir of life is a chimera. But these philosophers, whose hands seem made only to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pore over microscope or crucible, have indeed performed miracles. They ascend into the heavens; they have discovered how the blood circulates, and the nature of the air we breathe. They have acquired new and almost unlimited powers; they can command the thunders of heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with its own shadows.

Stirring words, but I think that the old man's heart is no longer in them when he delivers his set speech of inspiration to each new crop of students. Something, I think, has happened to discourage him.

And I do not think that any philosopher has yet ascended very far into the heavens, nor begun to command the thunders thereof; but you, Father, are more advanced in these matters than I, and must correct me if I am wrong.

My talks with both professors again today confirmed the difference in their views of Frankenstein and his experiments. Waldman still has almost reverent feelings toward his former student, whom he considers a great genius; nor does he believe that the terrible events that followed, in Geneva and perhaps elsewhere, were Frankenstein's fault. But Waldman persists in his reluctance to speak of the subject, and only my repeated mention of your interest induced him to say as much to me as he did.

Later—a small flirtation with a maidservant here in Frau Bauer's house has enabled me to take another look at certain parts of the establishment where the good landlady does not wish anyone to trespass. I am perfectly sure now that the little room at the top was Frankenstein's laboratory, and that secret, or at least inconspicuous, access to it is perfectly possible by means of the stair at the rear of the house and the alley behind it.

And you will be pleased to know, Father—I may have mentioned it before—that the iron points of your most famed invention are in use here, as I suppose they are in every more or less civilized region of the globe. This house wears two of them upon its uppermost extremities; yet I can see where it has sustained some damage, almost certainly from lightning, upon a chimney near the high room in which the experiments took place. Perhaps the young philosopher who used these rooms, in his eagerness to sample the electric fluid from the clouds, took liberties with the arrangement of conducting rods to the detriment of the good Frau Bauer's property.

I continue to pursue my inquiries as best I can. Failing to receive any Instructions to the contrary from you within the next fortnight, I purpose to travel on to Geneva, there to investigate the next chapter in the story.

Yr Obdt Son

Benjamin Freeman

P.S. I shall not forget to look further into the matter of "Saville" before I go.