Pretorius unveils for Henry the results of his experiments with creating life - several miniature homunculi - small figures in glass jars or bottles. The chirping, squeaking, and costumed Lilliputian-like characters, beginning with a Queen (Joan Woodbury) . . .
Henry: Good heavens, Doctor. What are these?
Pretorius: There is a pleasing variety about my exhibits. My first experiment was so lovely that we made her a Queen. Charming, don't you think?
Next is a lecherous King (Arthur S. Byron) who chews on a turkey drumstick.
Pretorius: Then of course, we had to have a King. Now, he's so madly in love with her that we have to segregate them. Now now. I have to be very careful with the king. Now, behave.
Next, a lecturing Archbishop (Norman Ainsley).
Pretorius: My next production looked so disapprovingly at the other two that they made him an Archbishop. He seems to be asleep. I must wake him up.
Next, a Mephistophelian Devil (Peter Shaw).
Pretorius: The next one is the very Devil - very bizarre, this little chap. There's a certain resemblance to me, don't you think? Or do I flatter myself? I took a great deal of pains with him. Sometimes I have wondered whether life wouldn't be much more amusing if we were all devils, and no nonsense about angels and being good.
Acting out their roles precisely, the King escapes from the top of his bell-jar, madly throws kisses toward the Queen, and runs over toward her flask, while the diminutive Archbishop sternly admonishes and chastises him.
Pretorius: Oh, there's the king out again. Even royal amours are a nuisance. Poor Archbishop. He has his hands full.
The King is picked up by tweezers and deposited back in his jar.
Pretorius: There. That'll keep you quiet.
The last miniature creations include: a pirouetting Ballerina (Kansas DeForrest) in a tutu and an underwater Mermaid (Josephine McKim). The figures are perfect in shape, but lack size.
Pretorius: My little Ballerina is charming but such a bore! She won't dance to anything but Mendelsohnn's Spring Song and it gets so monotonous. My next is very conventional, I'm afraid. But you can never tell how these things will turn out. It was an experiment with seaweed. Normal size has been my difficulty. You did achieve size. I need to work that out with you.
Henry (disturbed): But this isn't science! It's more like black magic.
Pretorius: You think I'm mad. Perhaps I am. But listen Henry Frankenstein. While you were digging in your graves, piecing together dead tissues, I, my dear pupil, went for my material to the source of life. I grew my creatures like cultures; grew them, as Nature does - from seed. But still, you did achieve results that I have missed. Now think what a world-astounding collaboration we should be, you and I - together.
Henry: No! No, no, no.
Pretorius: Leave the charnel house and follow the lead of Nature - or of God if you like your Bible stories. Male and Female, created He them. Be fruitful and multiply. Create a race, a man-made race upon the face of the earth. Why not?
Henry (agitated and alarmed): I dare not even think of such a thing.
Pretorius: Our mad dream is only half realized. Alone, you have created a man. Now together, we will create his mate.
Henry (sitting forward): You mean...?
Pretorius (lasciviously): Yes. A woman. That should be really interesting.
Meanwhile, the Monster stomps through a sunlit woods with thick underbrush. He finds a still, placid pool and scoops up water to quench his thirst. His hideous reflection bothers him, and he angrily growls and strikes the water's surface to erase away his ugly image.
Contented sheep are being tended by a beautiful young shepherdess (Ann Darling). Seeking friendship, the Monster staggers over to her.
When she sights him, she screams, loses her balance on the rock cliff, and plummets into the pool. He follows her into the water and saves her life.
Spurning him, her terrified screams alert nearby hunters who attack him. For his magnanimity, he is shot in the arm and chased through the forest. One of the hunters notifies the burgomaster and other villagers that the Monster is on a rampage.
Burgomaster: Get out the bloodhounds. Raise all the men you can, lock the women indoors, and wait for me.
The Monster is pursued uphill in the same forest (now a stark woods filled with bare trunks of trees and rocky outcroppings and lacking dense undergrowth) by angry, blood-thirsty townspeople and bloodhounds barking after their prey. After pushing a rock boulder down on two of the villagers, the Monster is surrounded by the irate mob. Minnie is present at the moment of the capture . . .
Minnie: Have you got him? That's what I want to know. Have you got him?
Burgomaster: Of course we've got him, my good woman.
Minnie: Mind he don't get loose again. He might do some damage and hurt somebody.
The captured Monster is lashed to a long wooden pole, raised and placed in a suffering, crucifixion pose, as the villagers revile him and stone him with rocks.
He is taken into town in a haycart, carried on the long pole like a captured boar.
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