Elephant Man (13 page)

The idea was beautiful in its simplicity. A psalm. He would teach Merrick a psalm. Carr-Gomm was a pious, God-fearing man with a plain uncomplicated belief in his Maker and a disposition to think kindly of all who worshiped in whatever degree. It was something that sat oddly with the legal precision of his soul, but then so many strands in the Chairman’s character starkly contradicted other strands. He was no more consistent than any other man, but because of his exposed position of authority his inconsistencies were more nakedly revealed.

Treves planned to make use of this aspect of Carr-Gomm now. Just let Merrick recite a psalm convincingly—the twenty-third would be a good choice—and in Carr-Gomm’s eyes he would have acquired a golden patina that would assure him of the Chairman’s protection. Treves increased his speed.

It was six-thirty before he reached the hospital. The porter gave him a sleepy shrug. Treves took the stairs two at a time until he was on the top floor. He was heaving for breath and had to lean against the door of the Isolation Ward.

Merrick was asleep when he let himself in, propped up against the mountain of pillows at the head of his bed, his head dropped forward against his drawn-up knees. Treves closed the door quietly and regarded his patient. How could Merrick sleep in that uncomfortable position? He tried imagining it for a moment and at once he could feel the strain on his spine that would turn into an intolerable ache before the night was over. Never to be able to lie down, to stretch out luxuriously; how would it feel?

Bytes’ words came back to him—something about Merrick dying from a broken neck if he tried to lie flat. Presumably you could do anything, however uncomfortable, if you knew you’d die if you didn’t.

He listened to the heavy, wheezing noise Merrick made as he slept, and shuddered.

“John—” he touched him on the shoulder. “John, wake up. I’ve come to see you.”

The wheezing turned into a violent snort as Merrick jerked himself out of his sleep and hauled his head up with a force that seemed likely to break his neck. For a moment his eyes were defenseless and Treves was shocked at the naked terror in them. How often had Merrick been startled out of sleep to be kicked or cuffed, or jeered at?

“It’s all right,” he said quickly. “It’s only me. It’s all right, John.”

The fear died away. The eyes became blank again.

“Hello—my name is John Merrick,” he intoned.

“That’s right, John. I want you to say that to someone I’m bringing to see you today—as perfectly as you can. Don’t look alarmed—” for Merrick had flinched away at the mention of a stranger. “It’s a friend—someone who’ll be kind to you, and I want you to speak politely to him as I’ve taught you. I’m going to teach you a few more phrases as well, so that you can make some polite conversation. And a psalm. I don’t suppose you know what that is, do you? It’s a poem in the Bible, a very beautiful poem. I’ve got just a few hours to teach you to say it perfectly. Where is the Bible, by the way? It doesn’t seem to be here.”

He found the book at last on the windowsill, well away from the table where it had been left. He shrugged. It was natural for Merrick to be fingering the objects in the room.

“We’ll start with the conversation,” he said, sitting down, “and we’ll see if we can get you used to that before someone comes to wash and dress you. Then after breakfast we’ll start on the psalm.

“When our visitor arrives I’ll show him into the room, and I’ll say to you, ‘May I introduce you to Mr. Carr-Gomm?’ and you will say, ‘Hello, my name is John Merrick.’ Let’s try that …”

They were deep in their work when Mrs. Mothershead came in at eight o’clock. She looked disapproving when she saw Treves already there, but said nothing, and Treves did not invite comment. As soon as he could decently get rid of her he pulled out the Bible. He felt he had done all he could with the polite conversation. If Merrick shaped up as well as he promised to, Carr-Gomm should be convinced.

By one o’clock he felt he had it. He had settled for teaching Merrick the first half of the twenty-third psalm perfectly rather than the whole psalm imperfectly. It was more important for Merrick to seem to know what he was saying than to be able to recite large chunks.

For the last time Merrick ran through it from memory.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,” he enunciated slowly and not too indistinctly. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters.” As he heard these words Treves became more than ever convinced that Merrick had no notion of the meaning of what he was saying. Otherwise how could he bear to recite such a grotesque denial of what his life actually was?

“He restoreth my soul,” Merrick continued huskily. “He guideth me in the paths of righteousness …” he trailed away.

“Righteousness for his name’s sake,” Merrick took up at once.

Treves breathed again. Only one failure of memory was more than he had hoped for.

“Very good, very good. Now when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you’ve learned.

“If you have any trouble with any of the words, I’ll help you. I’m sure you’ll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you’ve done for me, then I’m sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now let’s go through the
whole thing again, shall we? I’ll say, ‘May I introduce you to Mr. Carr-Gomm?’ And you will say—”

“Hello, my name is John Merrick,” the Elephant Man came in prompt on cue. “I am very pleased to meet you.” ’

They went through it all once more before Treves left, telling Merrick to rest until he returned with Carr-Gomm. As soon as he was on his own he became sharply aware that he had not eaten that day. Absorbed in teaching Merrick he had no attention to spare for his own needs, but now he was ravenous.

He left the hospital by a quiet side door—hoping not to be accosted by Mothershead wanting him for a patient, or Fox demanding heartily, “What are you up to, you old dog?”—and made his way to a small eating house nearby. Over a chop he brooded over the coming confrontation.

He had few real fears by now that Merrick could be considered intelligent in the normal adult way. The Elephant Man followed what was taught him with the parrot ability of a bright four-year-old. That was all to the good. With luck he had learned enough to get by this afternoon, and further limited progress would be possible later.

He had no twinge of conscience about the deception he was planning to practice that day. Carr-Gomm did not understand, and where people did not understand they were not entitled to the whole truth. Besides, the Chairman had forced the situation on him by fixing this early meeting. Treves’ conscience was reserved for the pitiful creature in the Isolation Ward, snatched from his fear and misery and now threatened with an early return to it.

Alone with himself Treves could admit that Bytes’ shaft had gone home. “You wanted the freak to show to all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself.” An instinctive denial had risen up in him at the time, but his hard, honest nature would not let him forget that he had gone into that tent looking for
something rare, something that would provide the basis for a fine lecture, a learned paper, a book even.

A young doctor had his way to make, and quickly. His post at the London Hospital, his practice in Wimpole Street, these were good, solid achievements. But they were not likely to make his name, and Frederick Treves desperately wanted a great and illustrious name in the medical world.

From here he fell to defending himself. There was nothing intrinsically shameful about ambition. Nor was he the only one who hunted down specimens of rare and hideous diseases.

He suddenly felt a small twinge of disgust at where his thoughts had led him. On the very day he was to try and convince Carr-Gomm of Merrick’s humanity he had fallen into the vulgar error of thinking of him as “a specimen.” ’

Did all his help, his hours of work with Merrick, amount then to no more than this: to fool the world that his specimen was a human being, so that he could go on having the use of him as a specimen?

Treves knew himself to be a hard man, even ruthless as a doctor must often be. But the glimpse he had just received into his own soul shook him. It was like dropping your hand into a pool of clear, bright water and finding that you had disturbed a bed of slimy, stinking life. He discovered that he had no appetite left, paid his bill, and departed.

To quiet the naggings of his conscience he redoubled his efforts with the Chairman as they made their way along to the Isolation Ward.

“It’s only a physical problem,” he said, anxious that Carr-Gomm should not be put off by the blurring of Merrick’s words. “He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. His face is entirely incapable of expression. He can cry, but he cannot smile … But he can talk, and has great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding
what he is saying, just tell me and I’ll make it clear.” He knew he sounded overanxious.

“Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend?”

Treves took a long time to answer. Fooling Carr-Gomm in a roundabout way was one thing, but he was reluctant to tell him a direct lie.

“As I said, it’s only a physical problem,” he repeated uneasily. “But I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you’re taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he’s most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous.”

“He needn’t. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about?”

“Yes. I called on both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables yesterday afternoon. I’m afraid that they weren’t very encouraging, but they said they’d bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answer shortly.”

“Fine, fine,” said Carr-Gomm heartily. “You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here—patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don’t become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them.”

Treves was about to protest (quite truthfully) that none of his regular patients were being neglected; but he didn’t, because he knew this wasn’t really what they were discussing. Carr-Gomm’s love of order and moderation had risen up indignantly at the sight of what he considered a lack of proportion in Treves’ dealings with the Elephant Man.

Carr-Gomm stood back when they reached the door of the Isolation Ward and allowed Treves to precede him. He did not see Merrick at first, because the Elephant Man was standing right in the middle of the floor, hidden by Treves’ form. But then Treves stepped aside and Carr-Gomm found himself just four feet
away from a head such as he had never seen before in his life.

Years in the law had taught him to control his feelings, but even so he could not avoid a violent start. Treves noticed with relief that Merrick could not have seen this reaction. His eyes were firmly closed. He was breathing unevenly and seemed to be holding himself rigid. Treves went up and touched him gently on the shoulder, and immediately the eyes were open, gazing trustingly into his. They both turned to Carr-Gomm who lowered his eyes in pity and disgust.

“John,” said Treves steadily, “may I introduce you to Mr. Carr-Gomm.”

“Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you.”

Carr-Gomm was still shaken. Without thinking he instinctively put out his right hand. Too late he realized that Merrick’s own right hand could not take it.

“I’m very—pleased to meet you.” Carr-Gomm sounded unsure of himself. Before he could withdraw his hand Merrick grasped it with his left. Treves felt a certain half-malicious pleasure at Carr-Gomm’s expense. It had only been a tiny awkwardness, but of the two Merrick had coped with it better. He saw Carr-Gomm staring at the left hand that he held, and felt the older man’s shock at its perfect human beauty.

After an uncomfortable silence Merrick removed his hand. Carr-Gomm nervously cleared his throat.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked politely.

“I feel much better.” Merrick’s words were clear and assured. Treves began to breathe again. “Thank you for asking. And you?”

“I’m feeling very fit, thank you,” Carr-Gomm told him. “How is your bronchitis?”

“I feel much better, thank you.”

“Are you comfortable here?”

“Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful.”

Treves looked hopefully at Carr-Gomm waiting for what he had been sure would be the next line. On the
odd occasions when he met patients Carr-Gomm had a fixed routine of polite questions. It almost never varied, and he had counted on it when coaching Merrick. The next stage was always an inquiry about the hospital food.

But no inquiry came. Carr-Gomm was staring at Merrick in a kind of dumbfounded horror. Treves knew that his carefully laid plans would come to nothing if he didn’t rescue the situation now.

“Mr. Merrick likes the food here,” he said hastily. “Don’t you, John?”

“Oh yes,” Merrick responded on cue. “It is much better than what I am used to.”

He stopped abruptly. As the silence grew longer Treves realized with a sinking heart that his memory had failed him. He was growing skilled in reading the expressions in Merrick’s eyes. He saw desperation in them now.

“Oh yes?” Carr-Gomm prompted in a polite but chilly voice.

The pause grew agonizing. “And what was that, John?” Treves encouraged.

“Potatoes …” Merrick’s voice trailed away.

“Yes, potatoes. But …” Treves prompted.

It all came back to Merrick in a rush. “But the variety of food here is very pleasing. I commend you.”

He looked hopefully at Treves, like a dog that has done the trick right at last and waits to be praised. Carr-Gomm was gazing very hard at Merrick. At last he said, “I understand that you were beaten.”

Treves stiffened. He had not anticipated this line of questioning, nor had he prepared Merrick for it. Merrick’s eyes were flickering helplessly from one to the other.