The Siege of Krishnapur - J. G. Farrell [103]
“This organ is very big in Mr F. Rabelais and Mr J. Swift. In Prime Minister not so big. In you, Mr Hopkin, not so big. In me, not so big.” The Prime Minister fingered his sacred thread but offered no comment.
“The man who discovered this science, Dr Gall of Vienna, remove many skulls from people he had known in life. He found brain which is covered by dura mater...” (Hari pronounced this with relief, as if it were the name of an Indian dish) “has same shape as skull having during life. So that’s why we see bump or no bump on Prime Minister’s head.”
“I see,” said the Collector, who felt that his understanding of phrenology might be vulnerable to any further explanations from Hari.
“There are certain parts at base of brain, in middle and posterior regions, size of which cannot be discover during life and whose function therefore remain unknown. But some bumps we seen even though in difficult position. You see, for example... Amativeness...” Hari snatched up a book lent him by the Magistrate, and read: “Amativeness. The cerebellum is the organ of this propensity, and it is situated between the mastoid processes on each side...and so on and so forth...The size is indicated during life by the thickness of the neck at these parts. The faculty gives rise to the sexual feeling. In newborn children the cerebellum is the least developed of all the cerebral parts. It is to the brain as one to twenty and in adults as one to six. The organ attains its full size from the age of eighteen to twenty-six. It is less in females, in general, than in males. In old age it frequently diminishes.”
Hari put the book down and beckoned the Collector to come and examine the Prime Minister.
“Amativeness is not very powerful organ in Prime Minister. In me, very powerful. In Father it is fearfully, fearfully powerful so that all other organ wither away, I’m thinking...” Hari laughed heartily and then suddenly clutched his organ of Wit.
“Well, I must be on my way, Hari,” said the Collector sadly. How distressed he felt to see this young man’s open mind tainted by the Magistrate! But before Hari allowed him to leave he insisted on staring indiscreetly for a long time at the back of the Collector’s neck and even prodding it with a muttered, “Excuse liberty, please.” His only verdict, however, was a cough and modestly lowered eyes.
As he was returning to the Residency he thought he heard a voice calling from the far side of the hospital, beyond the churchyard wall. He went to investigate and saw the faint silhouette of the Padre, digging wearily with a spade and muttering to himself as he worked. Beside the path the Collector dimly perceived three long forms sewn up in bedding.
“Padre, is there no one to help you?”
But the Padre made no reply, perhaps had not even heard. He went on digging and muttering to himself. The Collector could just hear his words: “...Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay...”
The Collector spoke to him again, but still the Padre paid no attention. So in the end the Collector took the spade himself and made the Padre lie down on the path beside the corpses.
Then, for an hour or more the Collector dug steadily by himself. At first he thought: “This is easy. The working classes make a lot of fuss about nothing.” But he had never used a spade in his life before and soon his hands became blistered and painful. He was invaded by a great sadness, then. The sadness emanated from the three silent figures sewn up in bedding and he thought again of his death statistics, but was not comforted...And as he dug, he wept. He saw Hari’s animated face, and numberless dead men, and the hatred on the faces of the sepoys...and it suddenly seemed to him that he could see clearly the basis of all