Elephant Man (11 page)

“You must eat. We must keep up your strength—”

He stopped, baffled. He had looked back to the bed, to find it empty again. Merrick had slipped back to the floor and was determinedly trying to crawl into the corner again.

“What on earth is the matter with you?” Treves demanded, trying to keep a faint note of irritation out of his voice. He replaced the bowl on the table and knelt down to look into Merrick’s face. He felt exceedingly foolish.

“Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there.”

Again he clasped Merrick’s left hand and tried to draw him forward, but this time Merrick resisted, pulling himself away further into the corner and babbling frantically.

The sound of two sharp raps took him to the door.
There he found Mothershead wearing her briskest, most efficient air.

“Good morning, Mr. Treves. It’ll be his bath time soon. Has he eaten?”

“Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning.”

He stood back from the door to give her a view into the room and they both looked at the bed. Merrick was disappearing under it as fast as his clumsy limbs would allow.

Mothershead’s face set in no-nonsense lines. “Won’t come out, eh?”

“No, he’s very upset about something.”

“Just being obstinate, sir. I’ll handle it.” She strode across to Merrick and took hold of his left wrist. “All right, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant.” Her grip tightened as she tried to yank him out from under the bed, her lips pursed with concentration. At once his muffled sounds became deep moans. He struggled ineffectually to escape and hide himself further.

“No! Don’t pull at him like that,” Treves urged her. “We don’t want to frighten him more than he already is.”

But she continued to struggle until she had got Merrick seated unhappily on the side of the bed. She stood back and regarded him dispassionately.

“Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they’d lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack.”

He joined her in helping to settle the creature back against the mountain of pillows. His touch was gentler than hers.

“He’s had his share of ‘smacks,’ Mothershead,” he said as they worked. “I expect that’s what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man.”

Finished now she stood back and confronted him. “Perhaps you’ve got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don’t. I’ve got an entire hospital to look after,
and you have your real patients. Don’t waste your time with him, sir, it’s like talking to a wall. I don’t mean to be harsh, but he doesn’t belong here. Truthfully, sir, what can you do for him? I’ll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr-Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day, sir.”

She walked straight out of the room without waiting for him to reply or bothering to close the door behind her. Treves closed it himself. When he lifted his head he found himself looking straight at Merrick. The man (if that was what he was) was staring at him, petrified. He seemed incapable of moving himself.

“What good
am
I to you …?” Treves asked, half to himself.

The creature on the bed gave no sign of having understood. Still that awful silent stare that managed to be terrified and vacant together. Treves was swept by sudden anger at his own helplessness. He was not used to being helpless. He was used to being the man who would act for good, while others stood uselessly by. He suddenly discovered that he was ill-equipped to cope with this new feeling of frustration. Still that stare. He controlled himself and came to sit on the bed.

“I can’t help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling,” he said gently. “I believe there’s something back there, there’s something you
want
to say, but I’ve got to understand you. Do you understand me?”

After a moment’s hesitation Merrick began to babble again.

“No!” Treves interrupted him firmly. “You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We’re going to show them that you’re not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me!”

He wondered for a fearful moment if that ponderous head could nod without snapping off … but it could, it did … Treves breathed slowly.

“You do understand me!” he spoke slowly. “You understand. Now you’re going to say it. I’ve got to
hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say ‘yes.’ ”

At first he thought he was getting no response and felt a stab of disappointment. Then he became aware that the monstrous lips were fighting to make a shape.

“Yes,” he encouraged.

The eyes that stared back at him were still full of a fearful suspicion. Merrick had learned distrust by long, hard lessons over many years. He would not unlearn it all in a moment now. But as Treves gazed steadily at his patient he thought he detected the first hint of something else in those depths—something that might even be an excitement. The distorted lips came together, parted, and a husky sound issued from the back of the throat. Then, finally, it came; a noise that was little more than a gasp, but with the beginnings of a word buried deep in it.

“Yyyy … yyyye …” Merrick stopped and forced himself to start again. “Yyyyyeeess.”

“Yes, John!”
Treves found he was grasping Merrick’s left arm. In his eagerness he had reached out automatically.
“Yes,”
he repeated.

“Yyyyee … ess.”

“Yyyesss …” Treves mouthed slowly and distinctly.

“Yyyess.” This time the word was almost clear.

“That’s much better,” said Treves emphatically. “I could understand that ‘yes.’ ”

He thought he saw a hint of pleasure steal across the face, but it was hard to be sure. How could those features ever register emotion, fixed as they were in their horrible lumps? But the eyes were gleaming, Treves would swear to that. Was it possible this thing was actually intelligent?

He thrust the thought away from him violently, for if the creature was really clear-headed enough to be aware of his own predicament, then there was no merciful God in the heavens.

“Yes,” Merrick repeated, even more distinctly. His lips were moving more easily now, as though he was beginning to get the hang of what they were for.

“Very good, oh yes,” Treves told him heartily. “Now listen. I’m going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them—um—” He pulled himself up on the word “repeat.” He must remember to keep it very simple. “I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I’m going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Merrick at once, but there was no way of knowing from his face whether he knew what he was saying, or was merely reciting mindlessly the word he had learned.

“Excellent! Now, say …” Treves leaned forward and mouthed the word emphatically, “Hello.”

Again there was the gusty choke from the back of Merrick’s throat as he fought to form his mouth into the right shape. But eventually he managed near enough.

“Hello,” said Treves again.

“Hello.” This time the word was quite discernible.

“My—name—is—” recited Treves slowly.

This one took longer as it was impossible for Merrick to close his lips as the letter “m” demanded.

“My—name is—” he got it out at last.

“John Merrick.”

“John—Merrick.” The Elephant Man repeated the words almost as soon as they were out of Treves’ mouth. His eyes were eager for more.

“Say ‘Merrick,’ ” Treves instructed him.

Again the Elephant Man fought with the “m” and it came out more like “n.”

“Say ‘Mmmmmerrick.’ ” Treves drew out the “m” as long as possible to see if the creature would grasp the principle.

The twisted lips came together, parted, came together again.

“Mmmmmerrick,” the Elephant Man got out at last.

“Well, that’s all right. I understand you. Now say the whole thing again. Hello …”

He would have repeated the whole sentence, but Merrick broke in on him.

“Hello—my name is—John Mmmmerrick.”

Treves looked at him with pride. There was a quickness in that head—not an intelligence—he couldn’t allow himself to think that for a moment. But a quickness such as he had found years ago in a pet dog who had learned to do tricks for him.

They worked for an hour. Merrick seemed like a sponge ready to sop up anything that was offered him. Sounds he could make in the back of his throat came to him easily. Those that required the use of his deformed lips took longer and were blurred. But he had ceased to babble incoherently, and the eyes that looked back into Treves’ were bright with willingness. More and more frequently he interrupted Treves in his anxiety to show how quickly he had grasped something. Once the doctor found himself remembering an incident from his days as a medical student when in his eagerness to show himself a superior student he had rushed to reply to a question from his professor before the words were fully out of the man’s mouth.

“Not so fast, Treves,” the professor had reproved him. “We cannot all be favored of the gods. I dare say some of your fellow students would actually
prefer
to hear me finish?”

There had been a few titters of unfriendly laughter, for the young Frederick Treves’ headlong rush to be first in excellence at everything had not won him popularity among the mediocre. Even then the criticism leveled at him had been “too ambitious—too heedless of others.”

He marvelled that he, “favored of the gods,” should have discovered something in common with this pitiable, unfavored creature. But Merrick’s hurry to demonstrate that he had understood was developing a faint but perceptible “show-off” element, which made Treves grin in sympathetic memory.

He was in a thoroughly good mood when a knock on the door disturbed him.

“Come in.” He swiveled his chair round to find himself confronting Mothershead and bounded up to speak to her, full of a joviality that made her eye him warily. “Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick,” Treves wheeled back to face Merrick, “will you please introduce yourself?”

Hesitantly but with clear emphasis, Merrick looked Mothershead directly in the eyes and said, “Hello, my name is John Merrick.”

Mothershead gaped. “Good Lord, Mr. Treves.”

“We’ve made tremendous strides today, Mothershead,” he told her exuberantly. “He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn’t easy for him.”

She had recovered her composure and confronted him severely.

“Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It’s all very nice, but I don’t see the point. You know they won’t let him stay here.”

Treves lowered his voice and edged her firmly to the door.

“I’m sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they’d see that he’s the exception to their rule,” he said. He rushed on as she opened her mouth. “Now I’m not expecting miracles. I’m not saying He’ll be able to read or write, but I do think I can get him to think for himself. I’m going to arrange things with Carr-Gomm right now.”

He looked back at Merrick and raised his voice. “That was very good John, very good. That’s all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead?” he stood back to allow her to put the tray down by the Elephant Man. “I’ll see you soon, John.”

It was easy enough, he thought as he descended the stairs, to say he was going to “arrange things with Carr-Gomm.” He knew, and doubtless by now Mothershead also knew that the Chairman was not really on his side. He had been given time, but only time to get Merrick out of the building. As for the Hospital Committee—Treves
had for them the contempt that a medical man feels for those who are not medically qualified, but who yet have the power to overrule him. The Committee was formed of “administrators,” businessmen with a talent for the affairs of the world, or as Treves would have put it, ignoramuses. The only one he had the slightest respect for was Carr-Gomm himself, and he knew how hard it was to make an impression on that wily brain.

The Chairman’s first words when Treves had seated himself, confirmed his fears.

“Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital?”

“Ah—no, sir. I had planned to see them later today.”

“Good. How is the patient?”

“He’s doing very well. In fact that’s why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the Hospital Committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the Committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I’m sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules.”

“A few words?” Carr-Gomm looked at him sharply. “I thought he was imbecile?”

“Well, sir, perhaps I should explain …”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary, Treves. I’m quite sure the Committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are.” He gave a faint dismissive accent to the last four words.

“I don’t agree,” Treves persisted. “No one can make a reasonable decision about this man’s future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met.”

“No, Treves. It’s out of the question.” Carr-Gomm’s voice took on the deadly geniality that meant his mind had closed. “Now if it was up to me, I’d say, ‘Certainly,
let’s meet the fellow, by all means.’ I’m sorry, I simply can’t speak for the other members of the Committee.”

“Then will
you
meet him, as a representative of the Committee?”

Carr-Gomm gave him a tired look. “Mr. Treves, it’s out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I’m sorry.”

There was no arguing with that face with its careful look of bland kindliness. Carr-Gomm’s tone was final, his attitude of leaning back in his chair was filled with expectation of Treves’ immediate departure. Treves got out of the room as civilly as he could, but it was hard when his temper was beginning to flicker.