Mother

I went to school like other children until I was about 11 or 12 years of age, then the greatest misfortune of my life occurred---namely, the death of my mother. Peace to her. She was a good mother to me.
---Joseph Carey Merrick,
The Autobiography of...

"Yes, Doctor, I believe that it must have been the Workhouse Infirmary. They had a very good doctor there, a Mr. Marriott. He cut away the flesh from my mouth so that I could speak and eat more suitably."

Treves had been busily examining Merrick, taking measurements. He was astonished at how much the head seemed to be growing.

"Yes, well", he said, pulling the tape around Merricks forearm. "He did you a great favor, Joseph. If the oral growth had been allowed to precede without surgery, I very much fear for what the consequences might have been...your condition, I'm sure you’re aware, is not improving."

Merrick was helped by Nurse Ireland back into his shirt and waistcoat. He disliked measurements almost as much as he disliked mirrors, but Freddy insisted that it had to be done. Oh well, he had a new novel to fuss with later, to help clear his mind.

"I see your model cathedral is coming along nicely, Mr. Merrick. It's Saint Phillips, isn't it?" Nurse Ireland busily scratched out the measurements Treves dictated to her on a small pad of paper.

"Oh yes. I rather think it is going to be quite a piece once I finish it. It is a real pleasure for me to be able to craft something so...beautiful. Even if it is only a silly toy."

Treves gave him a bemused look. "Do you really think Saint Phillips is so beautiful, Joseph? I suppose I myself had never given it much thought."

Merrick turned to Nurse Ireland, and said, "Do you see how he is Nurse? He is all work and practicality. Freddy, you must, I fear take some time to enjoy the beauty of things"

"Practicality is my bread and meat. It's how I intend to make my fortune." Treves smiled. "You may go now Nurse Ireland.

"Yes sir. I will be back around to check on you at the end of the shift, Mr. Merrick. I hope you have a pleasant day."
"I hope you have one as well, Nurse Ireland. It is always a pleasure to be cared for by someone that is so committed to her work."
"Oh, Mr. Merrick, you're quite a charmer. You might win a lady’s heart someday."

Treves had grimaced at that last comment, but realized it was only a half-jest and said nothing. He would have to remind his nurses again about the sensitivity of his patient to certain subjects. The Nurse hurried out the door.

Treves sat at Joseph's work desk, next to his model.

"Well, any new and interesting thoughts? I have a little time to dispose of before I go up to the general wards."

Joseph ambled over to the mantle, and examined some of the ladies photographs he had collected.

"Win the heart of some lady..." he mumbled to himself wistfully.

He turned to Freddy.

"Doctor, do you not think that my mother was one of the most beautiful women? I mean to say, simply look at her picture: the nose is perfect, the cheekbones so slender and angular, the hair is a very shiny, raven-black. Oh, she was simply a jewel to behold."

Treves hated Merrick's mother. He was under the assumption that the foul bitch had cast her seriously ailing son onto the back of a hairdresser Uncle who, eventually, didn't want the burden either. Merrick had simply taken some fantasy concept from one of his novels, and had incorporated it into the vision of charity and selflessness that he wanted to desperately believe his mother had been.

"Yes, well, physical beauty is no great indication of a beautiful character, as you yourself know well, Joseph. I would very much like to have met your mother, though. She seems to have made quite an impression upon you."

Merrick carefully replaced his tiny portrait, and then said, "And how could it have been otherwise? All that I am today is a result of the kindness, the humanity, which she tried so hard to instill in me. Did you know that she herself was lame? Poor thing. But then, it seems to be the curse of my line. Tell me about your mother, Freddy. What is she like?"

Treves had not expected a question thus, but replied "She is a stern woman. And a distant one, too. I suppose I have never really enjoyed her company, as such."

Merrick sat down heavily upon his special chair, and considered.

"It does not surprise me. If you will forgive me for saying so doctor, you do not seem like you would. There is not a lot about you that suggests you are much attached to your parents. Were they not kind to you?"

Treves never liked being examined too minutely by Merrick, but remained affable.

"They were very supportive, and instilled in me the courage and the aspiration to succeed. Mine was a very normal home. I grew up with some privilege. I knew I wanted to be a doctor, and ordered my life and my education accordingly. It is not much of a childhood story, Joseph. Privilege and good fortune, along with much effort and dedication, have allowed me to be somewhat successful in my chosen avocation."

Merrick considered.

"I wonder, what it would be like, if we could but change shoes for one day? Do you understand? How would I go about the day, looking after people--it might be a very wonderful adventure."

Treves stated flatly, "No one in his right mind would change places with you. I hope you don't mind me saying that, but I don't know how you manage to exist day to day with the mental stability that you do."

"It has not been easy, Freddy. But, I have had to keep, within myself, the knowledge that things seem to constantly re-order themselves in the proper fashion. In one small way, I do consider myself to be a lucky man."

"Really? How so?"

"I had the most wonderful mother a man could ever ask for."

Treves considered for a moment---he's really built this into a spectacular fantasy. It's the one point upon which he is a little unreasonable. Surely, after all the trouble the woman caused him, he must bear some type of ill-will or anger toward her?

"Joseph," he began carefully, "I was under the assumption that your mother had, well, cast you off when you got to be a burden to the family."

Merrick turned slowly and looked at the doctor.

"Stepmother, Freddy. That was Mrs. Antill. When Mother died, Father went to lodgings, and he married the landlady. She didn't like me. Nor, did her two sons. That was when I went to live with Uncle Charlie."

"Oh. Yes. Well, now it is clear. And from there it was Leicester Union, correct?"

"Correct."

"And, you were there four years, before you met Sam Torr, and--what was the gentleman's name?"

"Tommy. Old Tommy Norman. He once told me that Barnum himself had given him the name 'Silver King', because Tommy always wore a bunch of coins on his watchband. He was a good sort."

Treves couldn't have disagreed more, but said, "Yes. I...suppose he was. Still, don't you feel that gentlemen like Mr. Torr and Mr. Norman, well, perhaps were more concerned with their own business dealings than with your personal welfare? I mean to say, your run as a freak shop attraction didn't end very well."

Merrick sat down, and wished for a cup of tea.

"Actually, it ended very well, from where I'm sitting. You must admit, Freddy, if it hadn't been for all of that, I wouldn't be here with you having this little chat. I would not, probably, have lived for you to sit there and wonder how it is I can always be so forgiving to everyone. Do you know what the workhouse is like, Doctor? They kill you there, slowly, so they don't have to deal with you. But first, they make sure you're being productive to society. A few years on the fairground was a small price to pay for finally coming to The London. I am a product of His grace."

Well, Treves had to admit, his friend had an odd way of reasoning. Everything happened according to God’s will. So why ever have a disparaging word to say about anyone?

"I do not believe in letting our troubles overwhelm us, my friend. But still, I wonder if, inside your spirit, you do not feel a grievous and righteous anger against those that have so ill-used you in life. Perhaps, your faculty of judgment is wanting. Joseph, to be blunt, gentleman like Torr and Tom Norman are no better than back-alley pimps. They peddled your flesh for profit, and when they found out that you were no longer of any use to them, they cast you off onto the shoulders of another manager, who couldn't handle the burden either. You are immensely lucky that we here at The London are more than prepared to care for you."

Merrick considered, reaching absently for his walking stick, and beating a rhythm on the floor with the end.

"Yes, you may be right. But I so liked the Silver King."