The Frankenstein Papers

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 usual 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.

"That is certainly interesting. Though I suppose it is possible that your memory plays you false. Count Cagliostro, as you have now learned from the man himself, remembers many things that could never have happened to him, and I am not sure that all of his false memories are deliberate lies."

The turn the conversation had now taken reminded my host of Anton Mesmer, and in that case he was uncertain. "Many cures that are hard to explain by any known theory of medicine are credited to him."

"And he is now in Paris?"

"Yes."

"I ask your advice, sir—should I see him?"

"Were I in such a parlous state that I did not know what was wrong with me, I might well seek him out. Alas, I know full well my own difficulty, and animal magnetism is powerless to lift it—the burden of four-score years that weigh upon me."

In my present state I am ready to try anything.