Elephant Man - Christine Sparks [43]
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