FATHER DECLARES HIMSELF TO BE THE SUNCHILD
Professor Hanky then went up into the pulpit, richly but soberly robed in
vestments the exact nature of which I cannot determine. His carriage was
dignified, and the harsh lines on his face gave it a strong
individuality, which, though it did not attract, conveyed an impression
of power that could not fail to interest. As soon as he had given
attention time to fix itself upon him, he began his sermon without text
or preliminary matter of any kind, and apparently without notes.
He spoke clearly and very quietly, especially at the beginning; he used
action whenever it could point his meaning, or give it life and colour,
but there was no approach to staginess or even oratorical display. In
fact, he spoke as one who meant what he was saying, and desired that his
hearers should accept his meaning, fully confident in his good faith. His
use of pause was effective. After the word “mistake,” at the end of the
opening sentence, he held up his half-bent hand and paused for full three
seconds, looking intently at his audience as he did so. Every one felt
the idea to be here enounced that was to dominate the sermon.
The sermon--so much of it as I can find room for--was as follows:-
“My friends, let there be no mistake. At such a time, as this, it is
well we should look back upon the path by which we have travelled, and
forward to the goal towards which we are tending. As it was necessary
that the material foundations of this building should be so sure that
there shall be no subsidence in the superstructure, so is it not less
necessary to ensure that there shall be no subsidence in the immaterial
structure that we have raised in consequence of the Sunchild’s sojourn
among us. Therefore, my friends, I again say, ‘Let there be no mistake.’
Each stone that goes towards the uprearing of this visible fane, each
human soul that does its part in building the invisible temple of our
national faith, is bearing witness to, and lending its support to, that
which is either the truth of truths, or the baseless fabric of a dream.
“My friends, this is the only possible alternative. He in whose name we
are here assembled, is either worthy of more reverential honour than we
can ever pay him, or he is worthy of no more honour than any other
honourable man among ourselves. There can be no halting between these
two opinions. The question of questions is, was he the child of the
tutelary god of this world--the sun, and is it to the palace of the sun
that he returned when he left us, or was he, as some amongst us still do
not hesitate to maintain, a mere man, escaping by unusual but strictly
natural means to some part of this earth with which we are unacquainted.
My friends, either we are on a right path or on a very wrong one, and in
a matter of such supreme importance--there must be no mistake.
“I need not remind those of you whose privilege it is to live in
Sunch’ston, of the charm attendant on the Sunchild’s personal presence
and conversation, nor of his quick sympathy, his keen intellect, his
readiness to adapt himself to the capacities of all those who came to see
him while he was in prison. He adored children, and it was on them that
some of his most conspicuous miracles were performed. Many a time when a
child had fallen and hurt itself, was he known to make the place well by
simply kissing it. Nor need I recall to your minds the spotless purity
of his life--so spotless that not one breath of slander has ever dared to
visit it. I was one of the not very many who had the privilege of being
admitted to the inner circle of his friends during the later weeks that
he was amongst us. I loved him dearly, and it will ever be the proudest
recollection of my life that he deigned to return me no small measure of
affection.”
My father, furious as he was at finding himself dragged into complicity
with this man’s imposture, could not resist a smile at the effrontery
with which he lowered his tone here, and appeared unwilling to dwell on
an incident which he could not recall without being affected almost to
tears, and mere allusion to which, had involved an apparent self-display
that was above all things repugnant to him. What a difference between
the Hanky of Thursday evening with its “never set eyes on him and hope I
never shall,” and the Hanky of Sunday morning, who now looked as modest
as Cleopatra might have done had she been standing godmother to a little
blue-eyed girl--Bellerophon’s first-born baby.
Having recovered from his natural, but promptly repressed, emotion, the
Professor continued:-
“I need not remind you of the purpose for which so many of us, from so
many parts of our kingdom, are here assembled. We know what we have come
hither to do: we are come each one of us to sign and seal by his presence
the bond of his assent to those momentous changes, which have found their
first great material expression in the temple that you see around you.
“You all know how, in accordance with the expressed will of the Sunchild,
the Presidents and Vice-Presidents of the Musical Banks began as soon as
he had left us to examine, patiently, carefully, earnestly, and without
bias of any kind, firstly the evidences in support of the Sunchild’s
claim to be the son of the tutelar deity of this world, and secondly the
precise nature of his instructions as regards the future position and
authority of the Musical Banks.
“My friends, it is easy to understand why the Sunchild should have given
us these instructions. With that foresight which is the special
characteristic of divine, as compared with human, wisdom, he desired that
the evidences in support of his superhuman character should be collected,
sifted, and placed on record, before anything was either lost through the
death of those who could alone substantiate it, or unduly supplied
through the enthusiasm of over-zealous visionaries. The greater any true
miracle has been, the more certainly will false ones accrete round it;
here, then, we find the explanation of the command the Sunchild gave to
us to gather, verify, and record, the facts of his sojourn here in
Erewhon. For above all things he held it necessary to ensure that there
should be neither mistake, nor even possibility of mistake.
“Consider for a moment what differences of opinion would infallibly have
arisen, if the evidences for the miraculous character of the Sunchild’s
mission had been conflicting--if they had rested on versions each
claiming to be equally authoritative, but each hopelessly irreconcilable
on vital points with every single other. What would future generations
have said in answer to those who bade them fling all human experience to
the winds, on the strength of records written they knew not certainly by
whom, nor how long after the marvels that they recorded, and of which all
that could be certainly said was that no two of them told the same story?
“Who that believes either in God or man--who with any self-respect, or
respect for the gift of reason with which God had endowed him, either
would, or could, believe that a chariot and four horses had come down
from heaven, and gone back again with human or quasi-human occupants,
unless the evidences for the fact left no loophole for escape? If a
single loophole were left him, he would be unpardonable, not for
disbelieving the story, but for believing it. The sin against God would
lie not in want of faith, but in faith.
“My friends, there are two sins in matters of belief. There is that of
believing on too little evidence, and that of requiring too much before
we are convinced. The guilt of the latter is incurred, alas! by not a
few amongst us at the present day, but if the testimony to the truth of
the wondrous event so faithfully depicted on the picture that confronts
you had been less contemporaneous, less authoritative, less unanimous,
future generations--and it is for them that we should now provide--would
be guilty of the first-named, and not less heinous sin if they believed
at all.
“Small wonder, then, that the Sunchild, having come amongst us for our
advantage, not his own, would not permit his beneficent designs to be
endangered by the discrepancies, mythical developments, idiosyncracies,
and a hundred other defects inevitably attendant on amateur and
irresponsible recording. Small wonder, then, that he should have chosen
the officials of the Musical Banks, from the Presidents and
Vice-Presidents downwards to be the authoritative exponents of his
teaching, the depositaries of his traditions, and his representatives
here on earth till he shall again see fit to visit us. For he will come.
Nay it is even possible that he may be here amongst us at this very
moment, disguised so that none may know him, and intent only on watching
our devotion towards him. If this be so, let me implore him, in the name
of the sun his father, to reveal himself.”
Now Hanky had already given my father more than one look that had made
him uneasy. He had evidently recognised him as the supposed ranger of
last Thursday evening. Twice he had run his eye like a searchlight over
the front benches opposite to him, and when the beam had reached my
father there had been no more searching. It was beginning to dawn upon
my father that George might have discovered that he was not Professor
Panky; was it for this reason that these two young special constables,
though they gave up their places, still kept so close to him? Was George
only waiting his opportunity to arrest him--not of course even suspecting
who he was--but as a foreign devil who had tried to pass himself off as
Professor Panky? Had this been the meaning of his having followed him to
Fairmead? And should he have to be thrown into the Blue Pool by George
after all? “It would serve me,” said he to himself, “richly right.”
These fears which had been taking shape for some few minutes were turned
almost to certainties by the half-contemptuous glance Hanky threw towards
him as he uttered what was obviously intended as a challenge. He saw
that all was over, and was starting to his feet to declare himself, and
thus fall into the trap that Hanky was laying for him, when George
gripped him tightly by the knee and whispered, “Don’t--you are in great
danger.” And he smiled kindly as he spoke.
My father sank back dumbfounded. “You know me?” he whispered in reply.
“Perfectly. So does Hanky, so does my mother; say no more,” and he again
smiled.
George, as my father afterwards learned, had hoped that he would reveal
himself, and had determined in spite of his mother’s instructions, to
give him an opportunity of doing so. It was for this reason that he had
not arrested him quietly, as he could very well have done, before the
service began. He wished to discover what manner of man his father was,
and was quite happy as soon as he saw that he would have spoken out if he
had not been checked. He had not yet caught Hanky’s motive in trying to
goad my father, but on seeing that he was trying to do this, he knew that
a trap was being laid, and that my father must not be allowed to speak.
Almost immediately, however, he perceived that while his eyes had been
turned on Hanky, two burly vergers had wormed their way through the crowd
and taken their stand close to his two brothers. Then he understood, and
understood also how to frustrate.
As for my father, George’s ascendancy over him--quite felt by George--was
so absolute that he could think of nothing now but the exceeding great
joy of finding his fears groundless, and of delivering himself up to his
son’s guidance in the assurance that the void in his heart was filled,
and that his wager not only would be held as won, but was being already
paid. How they had found out, why he was not to speak as he would
assuredly have done--for he was in a white heat of fury--what did it all
matter now that he had found that which he had feared he should fail to
find? He gave George a puzzled smile, and composed himself as best he
could to hear the continuation of Hanky’s sermon, which was as follows:-
“Who could the Sunchild have chosen, even though he had been gifted with
no more than human sagacity, but the body of men whom he selected? It
becomes me but ill to speak so warmly in favour of that body of whom I am
the least worthy member, but what other is there in Erewhon so above all
suspicion of slovenliness, self-seeking, preconceived bias, or bad faith?
If there was one set of qualities more essential than another for the
conduct of the investigations entrusted to us by the Sunchild, it was
those that turn on meekness and freedom from all spiritual pride. I
believe I can say quite truly that these are the qualities for which
Bridgeford is more especially renowned. The readiness of her Professors
to learn even from those who at first sight may seem least able to
instruct them--the gentleness with which they correct an opponent if they
feel it incumbent upon them to do so, the promptitude with which they
acknowledge error when it is pointed out to them and quit a position no
matter how deeply they have been committed to it, at the first moment in
which they see that they cannot hold it righteously, their delicate sense
of honour, their utter immunity from what the Sunchild used to call log-
rolling or intrigue, the scorn with which they regard anything like
hitting below the belt--these I believe I may truly say are the virtues
for which Bridgeford is pre-eminently renowned.”
The Professor went on to say a great deal more about the fitness of
Bridgeford and the Musical Bank managers for the task imposed on them by
the Sunchild, but here my father’s attention flagged--nor, on looking at
the verbatim report of the sermon that appeared next morning in the
leading Sunch’ston journal, do I see reason to reproduce Hanky’s words on
this head. It was all to shew that there had been no possibility of
mistake.
Meanwhile George was writing on a scrap of paper as though he was taking
notes of the sermon. Presently he slipped this into my father’s hand. It
ran:-
“You see those vergers standing near my brothers, who gave up their seats
to us. Hanky tried to goad you into speaking that they might arrest you,
and get you into the Bank prisons. If you fall into their hands you are
lost. I must arrest you instantly on a charge of poaching on the King’s
preserves, and make you my prisoner. Let those vergers catch sight of
the warrant which I shall now give you. Read it and return it to me.
Come with me quietly after service. I think you had better not reveal
yourself at all.”
As soon as he had given my father time to read the foregoing, George took
a warrant out of his pocket. My father pretended to read it and returned
it. George then laid his hand on his shoulder, and in an undertone
arrested him. He then wrote on another scrap of paper and passed it on
to the elder of his two brothers. It was to the effect that he had now
arrested my father, and that if the vergers attempted in any way to
interfere between him and his prisoner, his brothers were to arrest both
of them, which, as special constables, they had power to do.
Yram had noted Hanky’s attempt to goad my father, and had not been
prepared for his stealing a march upon her by trying to get my father
arrested by Musical Bank officials, rather than by her son. On the
preceding evening this last plan had been arranged on; and she knew
nothing of the note that Hanky had sent an hour or two later to the
Manager of the temple--the substance of which the reader can sufficiently
guess. When she had heard Hanky’s words and saw the vergers, she was for
a few minutes seriously alarmed, but she was reassured when she saw
George give my father the warrant, and her two sons evidently explaining
the position to the vergers.
Hanky had by this time changed his theme, and was warning his hearers of
the dangers that would follow on the legalization of the medical
profession, and the repeal of the edicts against machines. Space forbids
me to give his picture of the horrible tortures that future generations
would be put to by medical men, if these were not duly kept in check by
the influence of the Musical Banks; the horrors of the inquisition in the
middle ages are nothing to what he depicted as certain to ensue if
medical men were ever to have much money at their command. The only
people in whose hands money might be trusted safely were those who
presided over the Musical Banks. This tirade was followed by one not
less alarming about the growth of materialistic tendencies among the
artisans employed in the production of mechanical inventions. My father,
though his eyes had been somewhat opened by the second of the two
processions he had seen on his way to Sunch’ston, was not prepared to
find that in spite of the superficially almost universal acceptance of
the new faith, there was a powerful, and it would seem growing,
undercurrent of scepticism, with a desire to reduce his escape with my
mother to a purely natural occurence.
“It is not enough,” said Hanky, “that the Sunchild should have ensured
the preparation of authoritative evidence of his supernatural character.
The evidences happily exist in overwhelming strength, but they must be
brought home to minds that as yet have stubbornly refused to receive
them. During the last five years there has been an enormous increase in
the number of those whose occupation in the manufacture of machines
inclines them to a materialistic explanation even of the most obviously
miraculous events, and the growth of this class in our midst constituted,
and still constitutes, a grave danger to the state.
“It was to meet this that the society was formed on behalf of which I
appeal fearlessly to your generosity. It is called, as most of you
doubtless know, the Sunchild Evidence Society; and his Majesty the King
graciously consented to become its Patron. This society not only
collects additional evidences--indeed it is entirely due to its labours
that the precious relic now in this temple was discovered--but it is its
beneficent purpose to lay those that have been authoritatively
investigated before men who, if left to themselves, would either neglect
them altogether, or worse still reject them.
“For the first year or two the efforts of the society met with but little
success among those for whose benefit they were more particularly
intended, but during the present year the working classes in some cities
and towns (stimulated very much by the lectures of my illustrious friend
Professor Panky) have shewn a most remarkable and zealous interest in
Sunchild evidences, and have formed themselves into local branches for
the study and defence of Sunchild truth.
“Yet in spite of all this need--of all this patient labour and really
very gratifying success--the subscriptions to the society no longer
furnish it with its former very modest income--an income which is
deplorably insufficient if the organization is to be kept effective, and
the work adequately performed. In spite of the most rigid economy, the
committee have been compelled to part with a considerable portion of
their small reserve fund (provided by a legacy) to tide over
difficulties. But this method of balancing expenditure and income is
very unsatisfactory, and cannot be long continued.
“I am led to plead for the society with especial insistence at the
present time, inasmuch as more than one of those whose unblemished life
has made them fitting recipients of such a signal favour, have recently
had visions informing them that the Sunchild will again shortly visit us.
We know not when he will come, but when he comes, my friends, let him not
find us unmindful of, nor ungrateful for, the inestimable services he has
rendered us. For come he surely will. Either in winter, what time
icicles hang by the wall and milk comes frozen home in the pail--or in
summer when days are at their longest and the mowing grass is about--there
will be an hour, either at morn, or eve, or in the middle day, when he
will again surely come. May it be mine to be among those who are then
present to receive him.”
Here he again glared at my father, whose blood was boiling. George had
not positively forbidden him to speak out; he therefore sprang to his
feet, “You lying hound,” he cried, “I am the Sunchild, and you know it.”
George, who knew that he had my father in his own hands, made no attempt
to stop him, and was delighted that he should have declared himself
though he had felt it his duty to tell him not to do so. Yram turned
pale. Hanky roared out, “Tear him in pieces--leave not a single limb on
his body. Take him out and burn him alive.” The vergers made a dash for
him--but George’s brothers seized them. The crowd seemed for a moment
inclined to do as Hanky bade them, but Yram rose from her place, and held
up her hand as one who claimed attention. She advanced towards George
and my father as unconcernedly as though she were merely walking out of
church, but she still held her hand uplifted. All eyes were turned on
her, as well as on George and my father, and the icy calm of her self-
possession chilled those who were inclined for the moment to take Hanky’s
words literally. There was not a trace of fluster in her gait, action,
or words, as she said--
“My friends, this temple, and this day, must not be profaned with blood.
My son will take this poor madman to the prison. Let him be judged and
punished according to law. Make room, that he and my son may pass.”
Then, turning to my father, she said, “Go quietly with the Ranger.”
Having so spoken, she returned to her seat as unconcernedly as she had
left it.
Hanky for a time continued to foam at the mouth and roar out, “Tear him
to pieces! burn him alive!” but when he saw that there was no further
hope of getting the people to obey him, he collapsed on to a seat in his
pulpit, mopped his bald head, and consoled himself with a great pinch of
a powder which corresponds very closely to our own snuff.
George led my father out by the side door at the north end of the western
aisle; the people eyed him intently, but made way for him without
demonstration. One voice alone was heard to cry out, “Yes, he is the
Sunchild!” My father glanced at the speaker, and saw that he was the
interpreter who had taught him the Erewhonian language when he was in
prison.
George, seeing a special constable close by, told him to bid his brothers
release the vergers, and let them arrest the interpreter--this the
vergers, foiled as they had been in the matter of my father’s arrest,
were very glad to do. So the poor interpreter, to his dismay, was lodged
at once in one of the Bank prison-cells, where he could do no further
harm.