Elephant Man (33 page)

“You won’t appear out of place, John,” he assured him, meaning it.

“Splendid. Shall we go?”

“We still have time yet. John …” Treves stopped. Several times since Merrick’s return he had got as far as this and been unable to go on. This time he forced himself to. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what I allowed to happen to you. I had no idea. I was blind.”

“Please …” Merrick put out a timid hand to touch him. “You must not blame yourself, my friend. How could you be expected to know? You have so much to think about here, so much responsibility, so many lives in your hands. I would be frightened to be you.”

“But John …” Treves could not bear to be let off so lightly. He felt that every forgiving word that Merrick uttered was another load for himself to carry. But in a firm voice Merrick interrupted him, something he had almost never ventured to do before.

“No, Mr. Treves. You must not worry about me. I
am
happy every hour of the day.” His eyes smiled as he repeated the words he had once uttered before, as though he would have taken Treves back to those happier times and wiped out everything that had occurred since. “My life is full, but if it had to end tomorrow I would have no regrets, because I know I am loved. I have gained myself … and I could not say that but for you.”

Treves was silent. He realized he must accept this and endure the hardship of being judged far more generously than he felt he deserved. Except that he knew that judging him was far from Merrick’s mind.

“Thank you, John,” he said at last. “And you’ve done so much for me.”

He thought: You’ve rescued the human being who was in danger of being submerged in the doctor. But he could not say this. Merrick would not have understood.

To cover the moment’s awkwardness Treves gave his own bow tie an extra tweak, wishing that there was a mirror to look in. When he spoke again it was in a light-hearted voice.

“Well—I’ll fetch Mrs. Mothershead and Nora, and we’ll wait for you in the hall.”

“Very good, my friend,” said Merrick.

As soon as Treves had left him he turned to the row of photographs on his mantelpiece. The ladies seemed to smile back at him benignly. He straightened up. He was again the Mayfair dandy he had been on that night of Renshaw’s invasion. His voice, as he addressed them, was grave and courteous.

“You women are such strange and wonderful creatures. Alas, it seems to be my fate to fall in love with each and every one of you. I especially wish you could all be with me tonight. I’m finally going to the theater.”

He stood for a moment, reluctant to leave their company, but time was passing and his companions were waiting for him. How warm and friendly that sounded. He repeated the phrase to himself as he left the room.

His ladies were waiting for him by the front entrance: Nora in a deep red, low-cut evening gown that provided a perfect background for her dark prettiness, Mothershead dressed more demurely. Nora’s eyes were shining at the prospect of going to the theater. For a few hours she could pretend that she was the actress
beyond the footlights, as she might have been if only her father had been a little less adamant.

Mothershead had never been to the theater in her entire life, but this fact was only partly responsible for the glow of pleasure that made her look ten years younger. Most of it was due to her gratification that John had chosen her as his friend, and her enjoyment of his happiness.

Treves helped Merrick up into the carriage, then stood back for the ladies to pass in. As soon as Nora was inside she deposited herself firmly on the seat next to Merrick and gave him her best beaming smile. Throughout the journey she kept up a stream of merry small talk directed at him. Treves regarded the two of them with satisfaction. They might have been any cheerful young couple out for a night’s gaiety. Nora was playing her part to perfection.

They caught just a glimpse of the brilliantly lit front of the Drury Lane Theatre before the carriage swept round a corner to deposit them outside the royal entrance. The door was open and standing just inside Treves could see Mrs. Kendal and the theater manager. As the carriage stopped Mrs. Kendal swept forward to welcome them. Nora’s eyes widened at the sight of the famous actress.

Merrick responded politely to Mrs. Kendal’s greeting, but he seemed in a daze. He only came out of it when she said, “Will you escort me into the theater, Mr. Merrick?”

Finding her standing on his left side Merrick at once offered her his arm, and they walked inside together. When they came to the stairs Treves positioned himself discreetly behind Merrick, lest his help be needed. Merrick had always found stairs difficult, and now he was not as strong as he had been. But he climbed firmly, if a little slowly. Mrs. Kendal slowed her pace to his, lingering now and then to point out a picture hanging on the wall, and so giving him a chance to pause and recover his strength unobtrusively. It was
a masterly piece of tact that preserved Merrick’s illusions and won Treves’ admiration.

At the top of the stairs Mrs. Kendal halted.

“There is the royal box just before us, Mr. Merrick,” she said. “Her Royal Highness is waiting to welcome you.”

“I am very glad to meet Her Royal Highness again,” he told her gravely. “The last time we met we had such an enjoyable talk.”

In another moment a footman had pulled open the door, and Princess Alexandra was rising to her feet within, coming forward, holding out her left hand and saying, “Mr. Merrick, how nice to see you again. That was such a kind letter you sent me …”

Treves began to breathe more freely. The evening showed every sign of being a success—as long as Nora and Mothershead didn’t faint dead away at the Princess’s feet. He spared an amused glance for Mothershead, who looked, for once, totally unsure of herself.

The seating of the box had been arranged with care. Nora and Mothershead were put to the front, to shield Merrick from curious eyes. The Elephant Man sat farther back, between Treves and the Princess. He seemed back in his daze again, his eyes wandering slowly round the ornate auditorium. It was impossible to tell how much he was taking in of the scene. A little below them an orchestra tuned up. In the stalls elegant, well-dressed people chattered like magpies, flirted, laughed. John sat silent amid it all, although outwardly he was paying courteous attention to the Princess, who was demonstrating to him the workings of a pair of opera glasses. Treves, watching him closely, felt that if Merrick was taking in his surroundings it was not with his eyes or his ears, or with any one sense, but mysteriously through his whole being. As though by a process of osmosis he would absorb the theater into himself, and take it away with him to keep forever.

When the lights dimmed Merrick gave a sharp intake
of breath. Then he fell silent again, and carefully lifted the Princess’s opera glasses to his eyes. After that he never moved.

When the overture had finished, brilliant light flooded the stage for the first scene—a lakeside setting, with Puss in Boots standing by the water, giving his master instructions. The scene proceeded at a fast pace, the young master pretended to be drowning, the king’s carriage came by, the young master was rescued and passed himself off as the Marquis of Carrabus. The Princess fell in love with the Marquis at first sight, and Puss brought the curtain down by inviting the entire assembled company to dine at his master’s castle. Princess Alexandra led the applause as the act finished.

Merrick replaced the opera glasses in his lap with a happy sigh.

“Puss in Boots is terribly clever,” he said.

A look of understanding dawned in Princess Alexandra’s eyes. She did not need more than this to tell her that Merrick was not watching actors, but real people. He witnessed their antics with the unconstrained delight of a child, and he believed in their reality as totally as a child would have done.

Even Treves, who had half-expected it to happen, was momentarily disconcerted by the extent to which Merrick took the performance seriously. After all, the Elephant Man had read the plays of Shakespeare, had acted a scene with Madge Kendal. Yet all that seemed to desert him now, and Treves realized that reading printed lines in his own room was a million years away from the lights and music and color that now struck Merrick’s consciousness with the force of a blow. Once again he marveled at the way the different strands of Merrick’s character lay together, how the man with the maturity to be generous to his persecutors interwove with the child whose eyes shone as he gazed at the stage, and who sometimes could not stop himself from leaning forward and panting in excitement.

Long years as a Princess had made Alexandra a mistress of the art of meaningless talk. Having seen into Merrick’s heart she set herself to entertain him in the way that would please him most. Treves listened, diverted, as she launched into a discussion of the rest of the story, pretending not to know its outcome, and asking Merrick with apparent seriousness, his opinion as to Puss’s motives, and the next stage of the plot. Merrick gave the matter his full attention, and the interval passed happily.

During the next act it began to occur to Treves that there might be disadvantages in Merrick’s total involvement in what he saw. The plot was held up by a group of clowns who put on a slapstick display knocking each other flat with hefty blows and kicking each other around the stage. The audience howled with laughter, but Treves noticed that Merrick had quietly laid down the opera glasses as though he did not wish to see too much.

“They’re not really hurting each other, John,” said Treves quietly. “They’re only pretending—to make us laugh.”

Merrick inclined his head politely but said nothing, and Treves prayed that the episode would be over soon. For he realized that the Elephant Man, who had suffered so many blows and kicks in his life, could not believe in pretended injury.

But the next moment Merrick had made a noise that might have been a laugh, and once again the glasses were at his eyes. Looking at the stage Treves saw that a large policeman had joined the clowns, who had all immediately turned their ferocity on him. The more they attacked him, the more Merrick seemed to enjoy it. When his helmet was knocked off, Merrick uttered his little bark of pleasure again, and Treves realized that there must have been passages with policemen that had left the Elephant Man not sorry to see them get their come-uppance. It was somehow pleasant to know that Merrick, generous and forgiving
as he was, was not above feeling the sweetness of a little human revenge.

The comedy was followed by a ballet sequence, which seemed to have little to do with the story, but filled the stage with pretty girls moving gracefully. Merrick watched entranced, and when the curtain descended he continued to sit in a happy dream. Treves moved farther out to the side of the box, wanting to reassure himself that the Elephant Man was safely concealed where he sat. When he was easy in his mind he continued to stand there, exchanging pleasant remarks with Nora and Mothershead, who were also, in their different ways, in the seventh heaven of delight.

The audience below passed before his eyes like a huge tapestry. The royal box was on the lowest tier, just above the stalls, and from where he stood Treves could see individuals clearly. One in particular caught his eye. He was a young man, about the same age as Merrick, apparently about to expire from boredom. His slim, good-looking form was stretched negligently in his seat and it seemed that only with the greatest difficulty was he prevailed upon to address a word or two to his companions. Now and then a yawn distorted his handsome face, as if he had not slept for nights, and all dissipation was the same to him.

Treves turned his gaze back toward Merrick, who had come out of his happy reverie and was now engaged in an animated three-way conversation with the Princess and Mrs. Kendal. Once he said something that Treves did not catch, but it made both ladies laugh immoderately, and Treves just heard the Princess say, “That is an aspect that had never struck me before, Mr. Merrick …”

At that moment Merrick lifted his head and caught Treves looking at him. A glance passed between them and Treves thought that never in his life had he seen a man whose eyes blazed with happiness as Merrick’s did. He wondered if it was better to be the man in the stalls, smiled on by fortune till his senses dulled and he cared for nothing, or a creature like Merrick,
who felt every joy, every tiny pleasure, a thousand times over? At that moment he could not have said.

The pantomime resumed. Puss went to dine with the ogre who owned a nearby castle, tricked the ogre into turning himself into a mouse, and promptly seized him in his mouth. When he spat him out, the ogre had changed into a frail old man and the stage set had been transformed into a dungeon. The old man was safely incarcerated in the dungeon and the way was clear for Puss to declare his master owner of the castle, and for the young master to marry the beautiful Princess. Puss came down to the footlights to address the audience directly. While the eyes of everyone in the box were fixed on him Mrs. Kendal rose and slipped quietly out.

Puss in Boots bowed elegantly, and spoke with a flourish.

The audience responded and the air was loud with applause. The cast congregated to take their bows, there was curtseying, smiles, and much delivering of bouquets to actresses who put up a good show of being surprised. Then, just as the applause was beginning to die down, everyone ranged along the front of the stage turned expectantly toward one of the wings, and in another moment Mrs. Kendal had swept onto the stage. She waited a moment while the renewed clapping crashed over them, then raised her hand to gesture for the audience to quiet down.

“Thank you for your warm greeting,” she said when she had their complete attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s performance was very special to me, because it was very special to someone else, a man who knows the theater and loves the theater,
and yet tonight is the first time he’s ever actually been here. I would like to dedicate—the whole company wishes to dedicate, from their hearts, tonight’s performance to Mr. John Merrick, my dear friend.”