PROFESSORS
On the morning after the interview with her son described in a foregoing
chapter, Yram told her husband what she had gathered from the Professors,
and said that she was expecting Higgs every moment, inasmuch as she was
confident that George would soon find him.
“Do what you like, my dear,” said the Mayor. “I shall keep out of the
way, for you will manage him better without me. You know what I think of
you.”
He then went unconcernedly to his breakfast, at which the Professors
found him somewhat taciturn. Indeed they set him down as one of the
dullest and most uninteresting people they had ever met.
When George returned and told his mother that though he had at last found
the inn at which my father had slept, my father had left and could not be
traced, she was disconcerted, but after a few minutes she said--
“He will come back here for the dedication, but there will be such crowds
that we may not see him till he is inside the temple, and it will save
trouble if we can lay hold on him sooner. Therefore, ride either to
Clearwater or Fairmead, and see if you can find him. Try Fairmead first;
it is more out of the way. If you cannot hear of him there, come back,
get another horse, and try Clearwater. If you fail here too, we must
give him up, and look out for him in the temple to-morrow morning.”
“Are you going to say anything to the Professors?”
“Not if you can bring Higgs here before night-fall. If you cannot do
this I must talk it over with my husband; I shall have some hours in
which to make up my mind. Now go--the sooner the better.”
It was nearly eleven, and in a few minutes George was on his way. By
noon he was at Fairmead, where he tried all the inns in vain for news of
a person answering the description of my father--for not knowing what
name my father might choose to give, he could trust only to description.
He concluded that since my father could not be heard of in Fairmead by
one o’clock (as it nearly was by the time he had been round all the inns)
he must have gone somewhere else; he therefore rode back to Sunch’ston,
made a hasty lunch, got a fresh horse, and rode to Clearwater, where he
met with no better success. At all the inns both at Fairmead and
Clearwater he left word that if the person he had described came later in
the day, he was to be told that the Mayoress particularly begged him to
return at once to Sunch’ston, and come to the Mayor’s house.
Now all the time that George was at Fairmead my father was inside the
Musical Bank, which he had entered before going to any inn. Here he had
been sitting for nearly a couple of hours, resting, dreaming, and reading
Bishop Gurgoyle’s pamphlet. If he had left the Bank five minutes
earlier, he would probably have been seen by George in the main street of
Fairmead--as he found out on reaching the inn which he selected and
ordering dinner.
He had hardly got inside the house before the waiter told him that young
Mr. Strong, the Ranger from Sunch’ston, had been enquiring for him and
had left a message for him, which was duly delivered.
My father, though in reality somewhat disquieted, showed no uneasiness,
and said how sorry he was to have missed seeing Mr. Strong. “But,” he
added, “it does not much matter; I need not go back this afternoon, for I
shall be at Sunch’ston to-morrow morning and will go straight to the
Mayor’s.”
He had no suspicion that he was discovered, but he was a good deal
puzzled. Presently he inclined to the opinion that George, still
believing him to be Professor Panky, had wanted to invite him to the
banquet on the following day--for he had no idea that Hanky and Panky
were staying with the Mayor and Mayoress. Or perhaps the Mayor and his
wife did not like so distinguished a man’s having been unable to find a
lodging in Sunch’ston, and wanted him to stay with them. Ill satisfied
as he was with any theory he could form, he nevertheless reflected that
he could not do better than stay where he was for the night, inasmuch as
no one would be likely to look for him a second time at Fairmead. He
therefore ordered his room at once.
It was nearly seven before George got back to Sunch’ston. In the
meantime Yram and the Mayor had considered the question whether anything
was to be said to the Professors or no. They were confident that my
father would not commit himself--why, indeed, should he have dyed his
hair and otherwise disguised himself, if he had not intended to remain
undiscovered? Oh no; the probability was that if nothing was said to the
Professors now, nothing need ever be said, for my father might be
escorted back to the statues by George on the Sunday evening and be told
that he was not to return. Moreover, even though something untoward were
to happen after all, the Professors would have no reason for thinking
that their hostess had known of the Sunchild’s being in Sunch’ston.
On the other hand, they were her guests, and it would not be handsome to
keep Hanky, at any rate, in the dark, when the knowledge that the
Sunchild was listening to every word he said might make him modify his
sermon not a little. It might or it might not, but that was a matter for
him, not her. The only question for her was whether or no it would be
sharp practice to know what she knew and say nothing about it. Her
husband hated _finesse_ as much as she did, and they settled it that
though the question was a nice one, the more proper thing to do would be
to tell the Professors what it might so possibly concern one or both of
them to know.
On George’s return without news of my father, they found he thought just
as they did; so it was arranged that they should let the Professors dine
in peace, but tell them about the Sunchild’s being again in Erewhon as
soon as dinner was over.
“Happily,” said George, “they will do no harm. They will wish Higgs’s
presence to remain unknown as much as we do, and they will be glad that
he should be got out of the country immediately.”
“Not so, my dear,” said Yram. “‘Out of the country’ will not do for
those people. Nothing short of ‘out of the world’ will satisfy them.”
“That,” said George promptly, “must not be.”
“Certainly not, my dear, but that is what they will want. I do not like
having to tell them, but I am afraid we must.”
“Never mind,” said the Mayor, laughing. “Tell them, and let us see what
happens.”
They then dressed for dinner, where Hanky and Panky were the only guests.
When dinner was over Yram sent away her other children, George alone
remaining. He sat opposite the Professors, while the Mayor and Yram were
at the two ends of the table.
“I am afraid, dear Professor Hanky,” said Yram, “that I was not quite
open with you last night, but I wanted time to think things over, and I
know you will forgive me when you remember what a number of guests I had
to attend to.” She then referred to what Hanky had told her about the
supposed ranger, and shewed him how obvious it was that this man was a
foreigner, who had been for some time in Erewhon more than seventeen
years ago, but had had no communication with it since then. Having
pointed sufficiently, as she thought, to the Sunchild, she said, “You see
who I believe this man to have been. Have I said enough, or shall I say
more?”
“I understand you,” said Hanky, “and I agree with you that the Sunchild
will be in the temple to-morrow. It is a serious business, but I shall
not alter my sermon. He must listen to what I may choose to say, and I
wish I could tell him what a fool he was for coming here. If he behaves
himself, well and good: your son will arrest him quietly after service,
and by night he will be in the Blue Pool. Your son is bound to throw him
there as a foreign devil, without the formality of a trial. It would be
a most painful duty to me, but unless I am satisfied that that man has
been thrown into the Blue Pool, I shall have no option but to report the
matter at headquarters. If, on the other hand, the poor wretch makes a
disturbance, I can set the crowd on to tear him in pieces.”
George was furious, but he remained quite calm, and left everything to
his mother.
“I have nothing to do with the Blue Pool,” said Yram drily. “My son, I
doubt not, will know how to do his duty; but if you let the people kill
this man, his body will remain, and an inquest must be held, for the
matter will have been too notorious to be hushed up. All Higgs’s
measurements and all marks on his body were recorded, and these alone
would identify him. My father, too, who is still master of the gaol, and
many another, could swear to him. Should the body prove, as no doubt it
would, to be that of the Sunchild, what is to become of Sunchildism?”
Hanky smiled. “It would not be proved. The measurements of a man of
twenty or thereabouts would not correspond with this man’s. All we
Professors should attend the inquest, and half Bridgeford is now in
Sunch’ston. No matter though nine-tenths of the marks and measurements
corresponded, so long as there is a tenth that does not do so, we should
not be flesh and blood if we did not ignore the nine points and insist
only on the tenth. After twenty years we shall find enough to serve our
turn. Think of what all the learning of the country is committed to;
think of the change in all our ideas and institutions; think of the King
and of Court influence. I need not enlarge. We shall not permit the
body to be the Sunchild’s. No matter what evidence you may produce, we
shall sneer it down, and say we must have more before you can expect us
to take you seriously; if you bring more, we shall pay no attention; and
the more you bring the more we shall laugh at you. No doubt those among
us who are by way of being candid will admit that your arguments ought to
be considered, but you must not expect that it will be any part of their
duty to consider them.
“And even though we admitted that the body had been proved up to the hilt
to be the Sunchild’s, do you think that such a trifle as that could
affect Sunchildism? Hardly. Sunch’ston is no match for Bridgeford and
the King; our only difficulty would lie in settling which was the most
plausible way of the many plausible ways in which the death could be
explained. We should hatch up twenty theories in less than twenty hours,
and the last state of Sunchildism would be stronger than the first. For
the people want it, and so long as they want it they will have it. At
the same time the supposed identification of the body, even by some few
ignorant people here, might lead to a local heresy that is as well
avoided, and it will be better that your son should arrest the man before
the dedication, if he can be found, and throw him into the Blue Pool
without any one but ourselves knowing that he has been here at all.”
I need not dwell on the deep disgust with which this speech was listened
to, but the Mayor, and Yram, and George said not a word.
“But, Mayoress,” said Panky, who had not opened his lips so far, “are you
sure that you are not too hasty in believing this stranger to be the
Sunchild? People are continually thinking that such and such another is
the Sunchild come down again from the sun’s palace and going to and fro
among us. How many such stories, sometimes very plausibly told, have we
not had during the last twenty years? They never take root, and die out
of themselves as suddenly as they spring up. That the man is a poacher
can hardly be doubted; I thought so the moment I saw him; but I think I
can also prove to you that he is not a foreigner, and, therefore, that he
is not the Sunchild. He quoted the Sunchild’s prayer with a corruption
that can have only reached him from an Erewhonian source--”
Here Hanky interrupted him somewhat brusquely. “The man, Panky,” said
he, “was the Sunchild; and he was not a poacher, for he had no idea that
he was breaking the law; nevertheless, as you say, Sunchildism on the
brain has been a common form of mania for several years. Several persons
have even believed themselves to be the Sunchild. We must not forget
this, if it should get about that Higgs has been here.”
Then, turning to Yram, he said sternly, “But come what may, your son must
take him to the Blue Pool at nightfall.”
“Sir,” said George, with perfect suavity, “you have spoken as though you
doubted my readiness to do my duty. Let me assure you very solemnly that
when the time comes for me to act, I shall act as duty may direct.”
“I will answer for him,” said Yram, with even more than her usual quick,
frank smile, “that he will fulfil his instructions to the letter,
unless,” she added, “some black and white horses come down from heaven
and snatch poor Higgs out of his grasp. Such things have happened before
now.”
“I should advise your son to shoot them if they do,” said Hanky drily and
sub-defiantly.
Here the conversation closed; but it was useless trying to talk of
anything else, so the Professors asked Yram to excuse them if they
retired early, in view of the fact that they had a fatiguing day before
them. This excuse their hostess readily accepted.
“Do not let us talk any more now,” said Yram as soon as they had left the
room. “It will be quite time enough when the dedication is over. But I
rather think the black and white horses will come.”
“I think so too, my dear,” said the Mayor laughing.
“They shall come,” said George gravely; “but we have not yet got enough
to make sure of bringing them. Higgs will perhaps be able to help me to-
morrow.”
* * * * *
“Now what,” said Panky as they went upstairs, “does that woman mean--for
she means something? Black and white horses indeed!”
“I do not know what she means to do,” said the other, “but I know that
she thinks she can best us.”
“I wish we had not eaten those quails.”
“Nonsense, Panky; no one saw us but Higgs, and the evidence of a foreign
devil, in such straits as his, could not stand for a moment. We did not
eat them. No, no; she has something that she thinks better than that.
Besides, it is absolutely impossible that she should have heard what
happened. What I do not understand is, why she should have told us about
the Sunchild’s being here at all. Why not have left us to find it out or
to know nothing about it? I do not understand it.”
So true is it, as Euclid long since observed, that the less cannot
comprehend that which is the greater. True, however, as this is, it is
also sometimes true that the greater cannot comprehend the less. Hanky
went musing to his own room and threw himself into an easy chair to think
the position over. After a few minutes he went to a table on which he
saw pen, ink, and paper, and wrote a short letter; then he rang the bell.
When the servant came he said, “I want to send this note to the manager
of the new temple, and it is important that he should have it to-night.
Be pleased, therefore, to take it to him and deliver it into his own
hands; but I had rather you said nothing about it to the Mayor or
Mayoress, nor to any of your fellow-servants. Slip out unperceived if
you can. When you have delivered the note, ask for an answer at once,
and bring it to me.”
So saying, he slipped a sum equal to about five shillings into the man’s
hand.
The servant returned in about twenty minutes, for the temple was quite
near, and gave a note to Hanky, which ran, “Your wishes shall be attended
to without fail.”
“Good!” said Hanky to the man. “No one in the house knows of your having
run this errand for me?”
“No one, sir.”
“Thank you! I wish you a very good night.”