The Frankenstein Chronicles (2015–…): Season 1, Episode 2 - Seeing Things - full transcript

The remains of seven or eight
children have been found

freshly dismembered,
mutilated and rearranged.

Find whoever is responsible.

- When you do, inform me.
- I won't let you down, sir.

The subjects ever move?

No, Mr Marlott, they are dead.

I supply the subjects around here.

- What did you say?
- You heard.

- What's in there?
- The Fortune of War.

It's where they keep their bodies.
A porter wheeled one over

to the Hospital around midnight,
on a meat trolley.



- Alice disappeared ten days ago.
- The butcher's daughter.

- I want to speak with her.
- You'll speak to me first.

That dress, where did you get it?

I'm looking for this girl, Alice.

She had one just like it. Thought
you might have seen her.

No.

"LYCA," the little girl lost.

Like Alice.

♪ Oranges and lemons
say the bells of St Clement's ♪

♪ You owe me five farthings
say the bells of St Martin's ♪

Leave that, you'll be late.

♪ When will you pay me?
Say the bells of... ♪

Go on.

Wear your coat.



Yes, ma'am.

This is a private gathering.

I have business with William Blake.

- Mr Blake is indisposed.
- Who is it, Mary?

A stranger.

Let him enter.

My name is Marlott.

John Marlott from Bow Street.

Come...

closer, John.

You'll take tea?

Yes, thank you.

Who is Lyca?

Aha.

Oh...

My lost child.

When was she lost?

As you see,
Mr Blake has been taken gravely ill.

Now many, many years ago.

When she first came to me.

In a dream.

Why?

I'm looking for a girl named Alice.

I thought...

I know it's strange, but I thought
she might be one and the same.

- Why would you think that?
- They are one!

What, Alice and Lyca are the same?

All the lost children.

Tell me where to find her, then.

She is not real.

To find her

you have to know

the truth of the beast.

What beast?

The beast...

with a face...

of a man.

Argh!

- I'm... I'm so sorry.
- I think perhaps you should leave.

My apologies. I can see
I was mistaken in coming here.

Please send a bill to me
at Bow Street Magistrates Court.

How can that be?

She's cured.

All sins are forgiven here.

No corruption.

There's seven or eight regulars

that come and go from the pub
at all hours, all except the chief.

He stays put,

drinking himself blind I daresay.

So, how long do we sit on them?

Till they give up their secrets.

Did they take Alice
and the red-haired lad?

Or was it the man who tried to blow
my head off last night?

Or maybe they are in it together?

They ain't a million miles
from each other.

A chain of supply.

One thing more,
one of them rented a cart

but came back empty-handed.
From Stoke Newington.

- How do you know?
- There was a set-to with the carter.

- Cholera outbreak there.
- Cholera?

That means they will be
scouting for trade.

Means he will be going back.

My days are consumed like smoke.
My heart is smitten.

My days are like a shadow
that declineth

while I am withered like grass.

But thou, O Lord, shall endure.

The heathen shall fear thy name

and all the kings of the earth
they glory.

What do you reckon?

- 13 maybe.
- Never.

Pike's crew got 20
for a small up at Guy's.

That was last year.
Lucky to get ten now.

Keep it down.

Whoa. Whoa, whoa.

You ain't got
no business marching me...

I'm an officer of the law.
I ain't done nothing wrong.

Tell them.

Nothing wrong?

A dead body ain't property.

And taking one ain't theft.

Forgive me.

This is theft.

I didn't know that was there.

But you did.

That silver spoon
means transportation

or maybe the drop.

Or I could just let these good folks
string you up as you deserve.

What do you want from me?

What do you know about
the Anatomy Act?

It's costing me my livelihood.

Then what would you do
to stop it, murder?

Murder?

I'm a businessman. Here you are.

Have a look for yourself.

Incomings, outgoings,
it's all there.

- Honest labour.
- Ha?

You call stealing corpses
honest labour?

It ain't a crime.
There's a demand, I supplies it.

There's plenty out there trafficking
in worse,

why don't you go after them?

I had to use
a dead child as bait tonight.

Any more from you and I swear on my
soul, you'll swing for it!

Last winter I get a subject,

fresh,
no more than a day underground,

but when I gets it to the hospital,
they don't want it,

they said they've already
got one fresher than mine.

Is that unusual?

What, so fresh
the rigor is still on it?

A month later,
it happens to Billings' crew.

And a month after that
to Will Murray.

What are you trying to tell me?

Someone has been murdering
to undercut our trade.

And you don't know who it is?

No-one knows.

It's not good enough.

Wait.

What if I could find 'em for you?

Get out!

He says there is someone out there

doing murder to supply bodies to the
surgeons.

He'd say no different
if it were him though.

- I don't think it's him.
- Why not?

- Scum like that.
- Even maggots come in shapes and sizes.

We're looking for a monster,
a beast with the face of a man.

Beg pardon, sir?

Make sure they are fast.
I need a minute.

Right.

Pleasant lodgings.

Not lodgings, I'm the owner.

Trade's been good to you, hasn't it?

I've worked hard at it.

Three days.

That is the arrangement.
I'm keeping them for surety.

Keep watch on him anyway.

- All the while?
- Till I say otherwise.

Board and lodgings for two, please,
Mr Forrester. Your best rates.

I daresay Sir Robert can afford it.

So...

- will that be all you need from us?
- I'm afraid not.

We'll be at your disposal, then.

Obliged.

You've come about the teapot.

Sadly not.

Mr Blake passed away last night.

Ah...

sorry to hear it.

He said to be sure
you received this.

His latest work.

He did not live to see it published.

Sure he meant it for me?

I am unlikely to have misheard.

Strange.

It is as much a surprise to me
I can assure you.

Should you find no use for it, I...

would be glad to take it from you.

Aye.

May I take the liberty
of giving you my address?

Thank you.

How much?

I'll come back.

You look lovely.
Now sling your hook.

You might have told me you were
expecting distinguished company.

Please forgive my intrusion.

I took the liberty of asking for you
at Bow Street

- and they gave me your address.
- Not at all.

How may I help?

This...

must sound presumptuous, but...

it's I who wish to help you.

- In what way?
- Firstly by apologising.

When we met the other day, I spoke
slightingly of your conscience.

- I can assure you, my lady...
- Please, Mr Marlott, I...

I sense...

you are an honest man

who seeks to do God's work.

That's why I've come, because...

I believe you are in peril.

- Peril?
- To your soul.

You know what Sir Robert's
legislation entails?

It aims to put the body-snatchers
out of business

by assigning the unclaimed bodies
of the poor to the anatomy schools.

A punishment
formerly reserved for murderers.

Denying them their last hope of
redemption on Judgement Day.

No holy burial, no body intact.

No resurrection.

See, if we deny Christ
to the poor, Mister Marlott,

don't we also deny him to ourselves?

And that's what is stake here.

Not merely the future of medicine.

But the prospect
of a world without God.

The surgeons would argue that
the act is to the benefit of us all.

Isn't that what they always say,
Mr Marlott?

When it is the wealthy
who are to profit.

This act

seeks not only to supplant the
body-snatchers,

it will also outlaw
all forms of medicine

not licensed directly by the
surgeons,

benign, philanthropic practices
such as Lord Hervey's.

Your husband is a doctor?

Lord Hervey is my brother.

Ah.

Yes, a physician.

But as different from the surgeons
as night from day.

A healer not a butcher.

He runs a charitable hospital
east of London

where the poor are treated with
the love and respect we all deserve.

This is what your employer
has not told you.

Ask Sir William Chester
if you doubt me.

I don't doubt you, my lady.

And I appreciate you coming here

but please you must understand
that Sir Robert is my employer.

As you say.

And... you and I,
strangers to each other.

Odd as it may seem, Mr Marlott...

I don't feel you to be a stranger.

I-I've taken up enough of your time.

Please consider my words.
I realise...

you may feel compromised by them.

They are meant honourably.

Good day to you.

You are not a very good tail,
are you?

I've got my orders.

They won't help you much
if you want me useful.

You go about your business,
I'll go about mine.

Suit yourself.

I'm fetching my boy from his nurse.

You're welcome to walk with me.

I thought you said
we were going to see your nurse?

Her lodging is upstairs.

- John.
- Bill.

Porter?

Thank you, and another one
for my friend, Mr...?

Nightingale.

- Nance in her room?
- Upstairs.

We'll sink these on the way.

This is the best pint
in Blaire Market.

Argh!

Where is he?

Here is the book you asked for, sir.

Huh, Collier's Bank, The Strand.

That is where Pritty
keeps his savings.

Take this to the manager there
impounding them.

Then stay here
till I tell you otherwise.

Sir.

'Not merely the future of medicine

but the prospect
of a world without God.'

'Do subjects ever move?'

'No, Mr Marlott, they are dead.'

May I help you?

I'm looking for Sir William.

He's gone to Oxford on business.

I'm in charge in his absence.

- Who are you?
- John Marlott.

- From Bow Street.
- And your business with Sir William?

I need to speak to him about a
private matter we've been discussing

with the Home Secretary.

When does he return?

I've no idea.

Mr Pirkis, could you
come in here, please?

Mr Pirkis?

Do you know this gentleman?

He says he has some business
with my cousin.

Yes, sir, Mr Garnet,
we've met before.

Nonetheless,

I'm afraid that I must ask you to
leave now.

Who sells you subjects
other than Pritty?

Each hospital has got its main crew.

- He's ours.
- Main or only?

Once in a while, somebody
will show up with a bargain.

What, someone you know?

Sometimes, sometimes not.

So anyone can turn up with a subject
and expect to get paid for it?

- Yeah, in principle.
- Would you care where they sourced it?

- What are you getting at?
- A competition for trade

- resulting in murder.
- We're medical men.

If we saw something suspect, we'd be
off down the beak and no error.

Yeah, of course you would.

When was the last time you bought
from someone other than Pritty?

Funny you should ask.

Mrs Bowyer.

Good morning, gentlemen.

Sir William has asked me
to conduct this morning's lecture

on the peripheral nervous system.

Today,

we have a rare opportunity

of a junior subject,

freshly deceased.

I will therefore
be taking this opportunity

to conduct a display

on the subject of bioelectricity,

pioneering work of the Italian
physician Luigi Galvani

with whom
you are all undoubtedly familiar.

I will now make an incision

in the subject's right arm.

Allowing exposure
of the right ulnea nerve

just between the lower triceps

and the bicep.

Galvani's thesis
was that electrical impulses

are carried along the nerves
by an independent system of fluids,

invisible to the human eye.

That this process
can be seen to function

in conjunction with
artificially induced energy

in the absence of other animate
processes

seems to suggest that it lies
at the very foundation

of what we now understand to be
multi-cellular organic life.

We now have the opportunity
to observe it functioning...

at close quarters.

What the devil is going on?

For God's sake, somebody get these
creatures out of here right now.

Is this some sort of joke?

Get out!

It's not a bloody farm yard!

Go on, get out! Get out!

Who put you up to it?

- A gentleman, sir.
- Age?

About yours, sir.

Describe him.

Curls he had. Fairish hair.

Tall.

Have you seen him before?

He came to the sheep market
this morning.

Bought the beasts and gave us
a shilling to do his bidding.

Could there be greater calumny?

In times of old,

criminals cut from the gallows were
thought sufficient

to furnish our anatomists' tables.

But now it is to be any one of us,

unlucky enough to find themselves
unclaimed at death's door,

in prison or the workhouse.

That means you, poor schoolteacher,
fallen ill or on hard times.

You, poor grandmother,
unable to pay your rent.

You, poor weaver or farmer,

out of penny because of rising taxes
or falling duties.

You and you and you.

What further proof do you require

that this government seeks to make
poverty a crime?

And the afterlife
a privilege of the wealthy?

Let me have a thousand names.

I will take this petition
to the Home Secretary in person.

Let him then tell us that he has

the interests of the Christian
people of England at heart.

Now, who will sign first?

You, sir.

Come.

- Outside, outside.
- Come.

May I read?

If you can.

Shorthand.

I'm a reporter.

For the Chronicle.
Short stories and novels, too.

Name is Boz.

- Didn't get yours though.
- I didn't give it.

We seem always to be running into
each other, don't we?

Are you with the Herald?

I think you know very well who I am.

I do.

Try me.

You're a government agent.

Close enough.

I write with that hand.

No, you don't.

I've been watching you.

What were you doing at St
Bartholomew's yesterday?

I wanted to write about the lecture.

Why that one?

It was interesting.

Yeah, that is one way
of describing it.

How did you know to be there?

The same way that you did.

I received a letter.

At the newspaper offices.

From whom?

Anonymous.

- Saying?
- That there was to be a disruption

that would make
an interesting news story.

Should you receive
any more letters like that one,

I would ask you
to bring them to me...

before the events
they predict come to pass.

And where may I find you?

Bow Street Magistrates. John Marlott.

- You're a runner?
- Not exactly.

Speaking plainly,

what's in it for me? Hmm?

Sources are sources
and a story is a story.

If you do, I may be able
to give you a better story.

And if I don't?

I may break your thumb.

Boz, you say?

Remember the name.

All sins are forgiven here.

No corruption.

I want to be with you again.

Patience.

You will be.

God botherers?

That is your thesis?

That thing we saw came from hell,
man, not the church.

And I'll follow it there,
if need be, sir,

but Lady Hervey...

- What of her?
- She sought me out at my lodgings.

A lady of quality? Why?

To denounce your policy. She says.

- You are not seriously suggesting...
- No, sir.

But her escort at church...

the man who spoke against
you at Westminster.

Sir Bentley Warburton?
A fellow parliamentarian?

And your opponent.
Might he not have motive therefore?

- To make that thing?
- If he's capable of paying men

to disrupt anatomy classes,
as I suspect,

what else would he be
willing to sponsor?

He could have told her about me
and asked her to call.

As a spy?

What else did you talk about?

Mainly God, sir. And her brother,

Lord Hervey.

What about him?

How his work is under
threat by the Anatomy Act.

Does that not raise your
suspicions even more?

Yes, sir, it does.

I've been looking into him
and I intend to do so further.

He runs a hospital of some kind
in the East End.

A quackery, I hear.

First a knight,

and now a peer of the realm?

An eccentric one though, Sir Robert.
Might he not fit the bill?

These are dangerous paths you are
treading, Mr Marlott.

You asked me to investigate, sir.

- And the body-snatchers?
- I have them under surveillance,

but I have to consider they are working

as instruments for someone else, a
chain of supply.

Your conspiracies are
multiplying, Mr Marlott.

There's one more, sir.

Will I like it any better?

By my calculation, that thing we
found floated downstream

with the tides from Greenwich.
A good three hours in the water.

And?

Well, if it was supposed to be found

and interpreted as the
work of the surgeons,

that is leaving much to chance.

Might not someone with sedition in
mind

take care their outrage
be discovered?

Rather than simply letting it drift
God knows where.

If that obscenity was not fashioned
for our benefit,

then what is the reason for it?

None... that I can fathom, sir.

How do you find a man
without plan or motive?

But not without method.

At least in this case,
the rudiments of surgery.

- Hardly conclusive.
- No, sir.

But it is a possibility.

Well, let's hope you
can exclude it, then.

For all our sakes.

Sweet Thames runs softly.

But not always of its own accord,
eh?

Sir?

This city, Mr Marlott,

dragged kicking and screaming
like a raucous infant

towards a better future.

One way or another.

Do well by me, and...
you'll be assured a part in it.

Fail, and I promise I will deny all
knowledge of you.

And your wild accusations.

Frankenstein, sir.

I'm sorry it took so long.
I had to go to three booksellers.

May I ask why, sir?

Am I to be remaindered, then, sir?

What makes you think
I'd be that kind?

Pritty gave you something to remember
him by. Now I'll do the same.

Bentley Warburton.
Honourable member for Walthamstow.

Resides at the Albany, Piccadilly.
I want to know his habits.

Where he goes. Who he knows.
Who pays him house calls.

- Hey.
- I ain't running.

What are you doing here?

I know who took her.

Thanks.

Tell me about Alice.

Billy's got a regular crew.

He feeds us.

He keeps us safe.

In return, we bring him stuff.

Sometimes other kids.

So you brought him Alice?

I saw her...

in the market.

I liked her dress.

I said I'd give her
something for it.

But she didn't want to give it up.

Billy forced her.

Next day he took her away.

I tried to save her, I swear.

But he says it was either me or her.

You or her for what?

I don't know. Honest.

So, where is she now?

With the others.

Where?

They just...

go.

Tomorrow we'll find you
somewhere better to stay.

I'd feel safer with you.

My landlady might disagree.

At Billy's...

did you ever see
a little red-haired lad?

I don't think so.

You know that picture.

You can sleep
in the bedroom tonight.

I'll stay in here.

St Petersburg, December 11.

You will rejoice to hear that no
disaster has accompanied

the commencement of an enterprise,

which you have regarded with such
evil...

Life and death appear to me
ideal bounds,

which I should first break through,

and pour a torrent of light
into our dark world.

A new species would bless me as its
creator and source.

Who shall conceive the horrors of my
secret toil

as I dabbled among the unhallowed
damps of the grave

or tortured the living animal
to animate the lifeless clay?

Flora?

♪ Oranges and lemons
say the bells of St Clement's ♪

- Alice.
- ♪ You owe me five farthings ♪

♪ Say the bells of St Martin's ♪

- Who took you?
- ♪ When will you pay me? ♪

♪ Say the bells of Old Bailey ♪

Alice. Alice, answer me.

♪ When I grow rich,
say the bells of Shoreditch ♪

Oh, Alice.

Flora, sir.

You must have been dreaming.

No.

Not dreaming.

Seeing things.

What things, sir?

Alice.

I think I know
what has become of her.

An Investigation Into The Galvanic
Response Of Dead Tissue.

By William Chester D Phil
Christchurch. Name, please.

Sir William Chester.