The Frankenstein Murders (21 page)

Read The Frankenstein Murders Online

Authors: Kathlyn Bradshaw

Tags: #FIC019000

BOOK: The Frankenstein Murders
3.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“I have old eyes,” he explained, “and cannot see you as well as I would. Although I cannot say that I am unwell, I engage in little activity of the body. When I was at the university, a good half-mile
off, I found it very damp and dirty, but this place does not disagree with me. My apothecary does not have any doubts of the air here, and has recommended a diet of a small basin of thin gruel and perhaps a very small egg: it is not at all unwholesome. This is not always an unhealthy season, and I suffer fewer nervous headaches and palpitations.”

Although the interview had only just begun, it became instantly difficult to understand how Waldman's intellectual talents recommended him at any time to scholarly pursuits. I changed my seated position, and at the same moment moved the conversation directly to the purpose of my visit.

I advised Professor Waldman that I had been charged with an investigation into the life of Victor Frankenstein. His death in the north occurred under the most mysterious of circumstances and this has left many unanswered questions. It is the express wish of a certain person who knew Victor Frankenstein that as much of the mystery as possible be explained.

“What is it that you think I can tell you?” he asked.

My reply was to state my hope that he would be able to provide me with a greater understanding of Victor Frankenstein's studies and activities while at the university.

“My area of specialization,” he stated, “was chemistry, or more particularly the various improvements of chemistry by men of learning. Victor Frankenstein was a pupil of mine, one of the most adept and perceptive students I have yet encountered. The present state of the sciences is as a result of a long history of the most distinguished discoverers. At one time, I fully expected Victor's name to be included among them, but sadly that was not to be.”

I asked if those distinguished discoverers include Cornelius Agrippa, Albertus Magnus, and Paracelsus.

“Modern philosophers owe a great debt to Cornelius Agrippa and Paracelsus, for it was these men who gave them the foundations
for their knowledge. The labours of men of genius scarcely fail in turning to the solid advantage of mankind.”

To my inquiry of his assessment of placing Victor Frankenstein among these men of genius, Professor Waldman replied, “Oh, yes indeed. Victor outshone us all, and would have soon surpassed us had he not left Ingolstadt before the completion of his studies.” Waldman paused for a moment to stare into the fire before continuing. “Victor was my disciple. His application more than equalled his ability, and I had every assurance of his success. He took all my suggestions and gave his attention not only to the natural philosophy of chemistry, becoming an experimentalist, but to every branch of natural philosophy, including mathematics. I gave him lists of books, which he studied ardently, and he even made use of my own personal laboratory and machines once he had advanced his knowledge enough to not derange their mechanism. He was my most ardent student, often working late into the night, even until the sun rose once again. In but two years, he made the most wonderful progress. He gained the proficiency of his masters. He was fascinated by the human form and any creature of this earth animated with life.”

I asked the professor what he would think, were I to say to him that his student, Victor Frankenstein, believed he had discovered the elixir of life; that he was fascinated by more than the structure of the human frame and anatomy and that what he sought to accomplish was that which the alchemists seek — a method of bestowing animation upon lifeless matter.

Waldman placed a finger upon his own lips for a moment before drawing his chair closer to mine and leaning forward. His eyes had grown wide and bright, and a smile was only just perceptible on his lips.

“To be honest, I cannot tell you that I am greatly surprised. I knew Victor reached for more than that which our students more commonly aspire, and that his vision was far-reaching. In his
youth, Victor had been greatly influenced by the dreams of alchemists, and yearned for grand discoveries, gold from lead and the elixir of life. When he arrived in Ingolstadt, he was at first dismayed that his course of studies required him to put aside these great ideas and be content with the minor accomplishments of modern science. The only magic available to him through the university was that which may be found under the microscope. Victor spent days and nights in vaults and charnel houses personally collecting the best specimens for his studies. There were some whispers about missing bodies and his experiments, but it was all purely the result of jealousy on the parts of other students, and even some of the masters. Victor was beyond their reach and they resented him. He kept to himself.”

I asked if there had been any verification of those whispers, or had the professor ever visited Victor Frankenstein's rooms.

“No, never. I was not invited and had no reason myself to seek Victor out. Our work together was done at the university. As I said, Victor kept to himself. Victor was not unsociable, but he seemed to prefer his own company. His line of study was quite distinct from that of the other students, so he had little or no point of contact with them. I doubt anyone except his assistant Dippel ever had occasion to enter his rooms.”

This time, it was my turn to lean forward eagerly in my chair, for indeed this was the kind of news that I hoped I would find in Ingolstadt. Mention of an assistant to Victor Frankenstein was missing from Victor's account of his time and activities in Ingolstadt.

I asked Professor Waldman to tell me more about this man Dippel. Would he have been a very tall man with dark hair, yellowed eyes, and white teeth? I was apprehensive at the professor's response.

“Tall, yes, I would describe Dippel as tall, and certainly his hair was dark, although I do not recall it as black. His eyes I remember
as having very dark circles beneath them, and also that the whites appeared quite red and aggravated. As for his teeth, I can tell you nothing as I do not recall ever having cause to see them.”

I asked where I might find Victor's former assistant.

“Victor was the only friend, if you could call him that, Dippel made while at university. I am sorry, but I have no idea where you might now find him. The man was devoted to Victor and devastated when he left Ingolstadt. Once, some time ago, the fellow came to me looking quite crazed and demanded to know where he might find Victor, but I could be of no help to him. Sadly, the last time I spoke with Victor was shortly before he left Ingolstadt. Indeed, word of his death only reached the university through a new student, also from Geneva.”

The professor paused as a servant, after having rapped softly on the door, entered the chamber bearing a tray of food.

“You will forgive me, I am sure, but I am an old man with set ways. This is the hour I take my meal,” Professor Waldman said, adjusting himself in his chair and signalling to the servant to set up a small table before him.

My host invited me to join him in his meal; an invitation I declined politely. Although I had not dined for some time, I did not savour his supper of gruel and boiled eggs. Before I left, I asked Professor Waldman if he would at a later time explain to me the intricacies of the rot and decay of human flesh, but he deferred to Professor Krempe as the one with the greater knowledge and expertise on the subject. Professor Waldman also promised to inquire into Dippel's whereabouts and send word to me.

E
DWARD
F
REAME'S INTERVIEW WITH
P
ROFESSOR
K
REMPE

The day following my interview with Professor Waldman, my innkeeper delivered to me a note announcing that Professor Krempe would see me that day at his laboratory at the university. When I arrived at the address I had been provided, one of Professor Krempe's assistants was waiting to escort me to the professor's office. More than a quarter of an hour passed before the professor joined me. Victor Frankenstein referred to the professor as
an uncouth man, but deeply imbued in the secrets of his science.
This assessment I had yet to confirm or disprove, but what I could know was that the professor was closer to seventy than fifty years of age, his visage greatly lined. His hair, although thick and wavy, was completely white. Nevertheless, for a man of his advanced years, he carried himself erect and had none of the air of an invalid I had witnessed in the behaviour of Professor Waldman.

I began to thank Professor Krempe, only to be cut short by an impatient wave of the professor's hand.

“You are here to learn about Victor. Victor Frankenstein was a person who possessed great ability, yet also an uncontrolled nature. At all times, he would answer me in only the most offhanded and careless manner. He was often late for my classes or would not attend at all. He disagreed with much of what he was told.

“His proficiency in the sciences came to him too easily and, as a result, he did not treat them with the respect and seriousness they were due. He held much of what we did in contempt and insisted on maintaining the beliefs he had gained from reading Cornelius Agrippa, Albertus Magnus, and Paracelsus, and taking their fancies as truths. I told him that the time he had wasted on those books was entirely lost. He had burdened his memory with useless ideas that meant nothing, and yet he maintained his beliefs when I had distinctly told him to ignore them.

“Victor Frankenstein held modern philosophers and men of science in contempt, and was at best indifferent to his schoolfellows. For all his brilliance of mind, he held a deep sense of personal inadequacy; they warred within him against an equally strong sense of grandiosity and entitlement, which had nothing to do with his own limited accomplishments. He was remote, unfriendly, and entirely vain of his genius, although little came of it.”

I interjected, stating that Victor Frankenstein believed he had learned the secret to life. That he was capable of taking that which was once dead and imbuing it with life.

“Some might consider that blasphemy, for had Victor created life from death that would be the work of God. Adam's creator was perfect, Victor Frankenstein was not,” the professor stated bluntly. Then he strode out of the room, with only a curt nod as indication that I should follow him. “Only a person with Frankenstein's vanity would aspire to bring to the human race something so amazing and awful. There was an insufferable arrogance in Victor Frankenstein. He truly believed that the rest of mankind should thank him for his brilliant work and discovery. Many times I lectured him on how dangerous the acquisition of knowledge can be, but Victor would ignore my warnings and instead immersed himself in his misguided work.

“Be wary of activities with the tendency of serving narrow emotional needs. Be suspicious of those who would worship
scientific advancements at the price of humanity. Intellect and reason have a dual responsibility to mankind: to quest and develop scientific advancements and to weigh the benefit to the quality of human life. The natural scientist must be certain to reveal, penetrate, dominate, utilize, and harness the natural elements, but all this must be done through the continuous application of reason. The price of worshipping scientific improvements can only be destruction and desolation.”

Having passed through a set of double doors, we came upon what I recognized to be a dissecting room with tables, each with a cadaver upon it, lined up in neat rows awaiting the anatomy class. A stove to one side attempted valiantly to stave off the chill of the morgue, which encouraged the stench of corrupted flesh. Along the walls, shelves held containers carrying all manner of chemical liquids and powders. The air was filled with an oppressive scent of mixed herbs, mint, and less distinguishable dried plants thrown upon the flame in a vain attempt to mask the pervasive odour of death.

I asked if it was difficult for the professor to procure corpses such as these.

“Along with many other sciences, surgery and anatomy have also advanced, and here today we are interested in the formal instruction in anatomy to surgeons. As more doctors practise the procedures, more cadavers are required for academic dissection. Local prisons are often able to provide fresh corpses on days of execution, but as the number of students grows, this source proves inadequate. These are the bodies of transients, homeless, and friendless beggars, with no families to provide a proper funeral, collected and sold for a fee,” the professor pronounced with a wide sweep of his arm. “Some corpses, I am sorry to say, are not always procured in such a manner.”

I concurred, sensing his meaning, and went on to observe that in some cities grave robbers have become more than a menace, as
it is not difficult to transport a corpse stuffed in a bag. I had heard that some will pay as much as forty pounds per body. In some places where this has become a problem, families are even going so far as to purchase iron coffins to stop the grave robbers.

“Perhaps then you have also heard of the owners of a boarding house, fellow countrymen of yours, I believe, who began selling the bodies of deceased boarders to surgeons?” he asked, but began to tell me the story before I had a chance to answer either in the positive or the negative. “In order to increase the number of their sales, the two hastened the boarders along by suffocating them in their beds and selling the bodies quickly. But the industrious two were found out. Someone must have noticed that the cadavers had once been healthy folk, free of discernable disease. The boarding house owner's scheme was revealed to the authorities, and the two were tried and hanged. No doubt their bodies were donated to the cause of science,” the professor told me, with a mirthless sort of chuckle.

“Through my own work, I have witnessed bodies in various state of decay, but perhaps you would provide me with a more scientific understanding of the rot and decay of human flesh, or, as Victor Frankenstein put it,
how the fine form of man was degraded and wasted.”

Other books

Mission by Patrick Tilley
The Score by Kiki Swinson
Hamsikker 2 by Russ Watts
The Tequila Worm by Viola Canales
Past All Forgetting by Sara Craven
The Rabbit Back Literature Society by Pasi Ilmari Jaaskelainen
To Love, Honour and Disobey by Natalie Anderson
Bowie V. Ibarra by Down The Road