HOW MR. SAPSEA CEASED TO BE A MEMBER OF THE EIGHT CLUBTOLD BY HIMSELF
Wishing to take the air, I proceeded by a circuitous route to the Club,it being our weekly night of meeting. I found that we mustered our fullstrength. We were enrolled under the denomination of the Eight Club. Wewere eight in number; we met at eight o'clock during eight months of theyear; we played eight games of four-handed cribbage, at eightpence thegame; our frugal supper was composed of eight rolls, eight mutton chops,eight pork sausages, eight baked potatoes, eight marrow-bones, with eighttoasts, and eight bottles of ale. There may, or may not, be a certainharmony of colour in the ruling idea of this (to adopt a phrase of ourlively neighbours) reunion. It was a little idea of mine.
[Picture: Facsimile of a page of the manuscript of "The Mystery of Edwin Drood"]
A somewhat popular member of the Eight Club, was a member by the name ofKimber. By profession, a dancing-master. A commonplace, hopeful sort ofman, wholly destitute of dignity or knowledge of the world.
As I entered the Club-room, Kimber was making the remark: "And he stillhalf-believes him to be very high in the Church."
In the act of hanging up my hat on the eighth peg by the door, I caughtKimber's visual ray. He lowered it, and passed a remark on the nextchange of the moon. I did not take particular notice of this at themoment, because the world was often pleased to be a little shy ofecclesiastical topics in my presence. For I felt that I was picked out(though perhaps only through a coincidence) to a certain extent torepresent what I call our glorious constitution in Church and State. Thephrase may be objected to by cautious minds; but I own to it as mine. Ithrew it off in argument some little time back. I said: "OUR GLORIOUSCONSTITUTION in CHURCH and STATE."
Another member of the Eight Club was Peartree; also member of the RoyalCollege of Surgeons. Mr. Peartree is not accountable to me for hisopinions, and I say no more of them here than that he attends the poorgratis whenever they want him, and is not the parish doctor. Mr.Peartree may justify it to the grasp of _his_ mind thus to do hisrepublican utmost to bring an appointed officer into contempt. Sufficeit that Mr. Peartree can never justify it to the grasp of _mine_.
Between Peartree and Kimber there was a sickly sort of feeble-mindedalliance. It came under my particular notice when I sold off Kimber byauction. (Goods taken in execution.) He was a widower in a whiteunder-waistcoat, and slight shoes with bows, and had two daughters notill-looking. Indeed the reverse. Both daughters taught dancing inscholastic establishments for Young Ladies--had done so at Mrs. Sapsea's;nay, Twinkleton's--and both, in giving lessons, presented the unwomanlyspectacle of having little fiddles tucked under their chins. In spite ofwhich, the younger one might, if I am correctly informed--I will raisethe veil so far as to say I KNOW she might--have soared for life fromthis degrading taint, but for having the class of mind allotted to what Icall the common herd, and being so incredibly devoid of veneration as tobecome painfully ludicrous.
When I sold off Kimber without reserve, Peartree (as poor as he can holdtogether) had several prime household lots knocked down to him. I am notto be blinded; and of course it was as plain to me what he was going todo with them, as it was that he was a brown hulking sort of revolutionarysubject who had been in India with the soldiers, and ought (for the sakeof society) to have his neck broke. I saw the lots shortly afterwards inKimber's lodgings--through the window--and I easily made out that therehad been a sneaking pretence of lending them till better times. A manwith a smaller knowledge of the world than myself might have been led tosuspect that Kimber had held back money from his creditors, andfraudulently bought the goods. But, besides that I knew for certain hehad no money, I knew that this would involve a species of forethought notto be made compatible with the frivolity of a caperer, inoculating otherpeople with capering, for his bread.
As it was the first time I had seen either of those two since the sale, Ikept myself in what I call Abeyance. When selling him up, I haddelivered a few remarks--shall I say a little homily?--concerning Kimber,which the world did regard as more than usually worth notice. I had comeup into my pulpit, it was said, uncommonly like--and a murmur ofrecognition had repeated his (I will not name whose) title, before Ispoke. I had then gone on to say that all present would find, in thefirst page of the catalogue that was lying before them, in the lastparagraph before the first lot, the following words: "Sold in pursuanceof a writ of execution issued by a creditor." I had then proceeded toremind my friends, that however frivolous, not to say contemptible, thebusiness by which a man got his goods together, still his goods were asdear to him, and as cheap to society (if sold without reserve), as thoughhis pursuits had been of a character that would bear seriouscontemplation. I had then divided my text (if I may be allowed so tocall it) into three heads: firstly, Sold; secondly, In pursuance of awrit of execution; thirdly, Issued by a creditor; with a few moralreflections on each, and winding up with, "Now to the first lot" in amanner that was complimented when I afterwards mingled with my hearers.
So, not being certain on what terms I and Kimber stood, I was grave, Iwas chilling. Kimber, however, moving to me, I moved to Kimber. (I wasthe creditor who had issued the writ. Not that it matters.)
"I was alluding, Mr. Sapsea," said Kimber, "to a stranger who enteredinto conversation with me in the street as I came to the Club. He hadbeen speaking to you just before, it seemed, by the churchyard; andthough you had told him who you were, I could hardly persuade him thatyou were not high in the Church."
"Idiot?" said Peartree.
"Ass!" said Kimber.
"Idiot and Ass!" said the other five members.
"Idiot and Ass, gentlemen," I remonstrated, looking around me, "arestrong expressions to apply to a young man of good appearance andaddress." My generosity was roused; I own it.
"You'll admit that he must be a Fool," said Peartree.
"You can't deny that he must be a Blockhead," said Kimber.
Their tone of disgust amounted to being offensive. Why should the youngman be so calumniated? What had he done? He had only made an innocentand natural mistake. I controlled my generous indignation, and said so.
"Natural?" repeated Kimber. "_He's_ a Natural!"
The remaining six members of the Eight Club laughed unanimously. Itstung me. It was a scornful laugh. My anger was roused in behalf of anabsent, friendless stranger. I rose (for I had been sitting down).
"Gentlemen," I said with dignity, "I will not remain one of this Cluballowing opprobrium to be cast on an unoffending person in his absence.I will not so violate what I call the sacred rites of hospitality.Gentlemen, until you know how to behave yourselves better, I leave you.Gentlemen, until then I withdraw, from this place of meeting, whateverpersonal qualifications I may have brought into it. Gentlemen, untilthen you cease to be the Eight Club, and must make the best you can ofbecoming the Seven."
I put on my hat and retired. As I went down stairs I distinctly heardthem give a suppressed cheer. Such is the power of demeanour andknowledge of mankind. I had forced it out of them.
II
Whom should I meet in the street, within a few yards of the door of theinn where the Club was held, but the self-same young man whoso cause Ihad felt it my duty so warmly--and I will add so disinterestedly--to takeup.
"Is it Mr. Sapsea," he said doubtfully, "or is it--"
"It is Mr. Sapsea," I replied.
"Pardon me, Mr. Sapsea; you appear warm, sir."
"I have been warm," I said, "and on your account." Having stated thecircumstances at some length (my generosity almost overpowered him), Iasked him his name.
"Mr. Sapsea," he answered, looking down, "your penetration is so acute,your glance into the souls of your fellow men is so penetrating, that ifI was hardly enough to deny that my name is Poker, what would it availme?"
I don't know that I had quite exactly made out to a fraction that hisname _was_ Poker, but I daresay I had been pretty near doi
ng it.
"Well, well," said I, trying to put him at his ease by nodding my head ina soothing way. "Your name is Poker, and there is no harm in being namedPoker."
"Oh, Mr. Sapsea!" cried the young man, in a very well-behaved manner."Bless you for those words!" He then, as if ashamed of having given wayto his feelings, looked down again.
"Come Poker," said I, "let me hear more about you. Tell me. Where areyou going to, Poker? and where do you come from?"
"Ah Mr. Sapsea!" exclaimed the young man. "Disguise from you isimpossible. You know already that I come from somewhere, and am goingsomewhere else. If I was to deny it, what would it avail me?"
"Then don't deny it," was my remark.
"Or," pursued Poker, in a kind of despondent rapture, "or if I was todeny that I came to this town to see and hear you, sir, what would itavail me? Or if I was to deny--"
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