The Siege of Krishnapur - J. G. Farrell [29]
“Ah, now here’s the Padre to say Grace.”
No sooner had the meal begun than conversation of the most civilized sort began to flow around the table. Fleury appeared to join in this conversation: he nodded sagely, frowned, smiled, and stroked his chin thoughtfully at intervals, but he was so hungry that his mind could think of nothing but the dishes which followed each other over the table...the fried fish in batter that glowed like barley sugar, the curried fowl seasoned with lime juice, coriander, cumin and garlic, the tender roast kid and mint sauce. As these dishes were placed before him, occasional disjointed snatches of conversation loomed up at him through the fog of his gluttony, stared at him like strangers, and vanished again.
“ Humani generis progressus...I quote the official catalogue of the Exhibition,” came the Collector’s voice eerily. “But I fear I must translate, Doctor, for this son of yours who has paid more attention to guns and horses than to his books...'The progress of the human race, resulting from the labour of all men, ought to be the final object of the exertion of each individual.”’
But Fleury’s base nature whispered that there are times when a man must let the world’s problems take care of themselves for a while until, refreshed, he is ready to spring into action again and deal with them. And so he ate on relentlessly.
Only when pudding, in the shape of a cool and creamy mango fool, was placed before him did the fumes of gluttony begin to clear from Fleury’s brain and permit him to hear what was being said about “progress”. This was not a topic to interest everyone, however. Harry, for instance, had hardly said a word; like his father at the other end of the table he was clearly not much of a one for abstract conversations. Poor Harry, it had probably never occurred to him that one could make an “adventurous” remark (as he, Fleury, frequently did) or have an “exciting” conversation. He looked rather pale at the moment, no doubt his sprained wrist was troubling him; he should probably not have ridden out to the dak bungalow to get that jolting on the way back.
Louise, too, remained silent. In Fleury’s view she was quite right to sit there quietly and listen to what the gentlemen had to say, because speaking a great deal in company is not an attractive quality in a young lady. A young lady with strong opinions is even worse. What can be more distressing than to hear a member of the fair sex exclaiming: “In the first place, this...and in the second place, that...” while she chops the air with her fingers and divides whatever you have just been saying into categories? No, a woman’s special skill is to listen quietly to what a fellow has to say and thereby create the sort of atmosphere in which good conversation can flourish. So thought Fleury, anyway.
Mrs Hampton, the Padre’s wife, did occasionally venture an opinion, as her rank and maturity entitled her to...but she took advantage of her privilege only to support the views of her husband, which no one could object to. Of the other ladies two were remarkably garrulous, or would have been had they not been overawed by Mrs Hampton who kept them severely in check, cutting in firmly each time one of them tried to launch into a silly discourse. One of them, a pretty though rather vulgar person, was Mrs Rayne, the wife of the Opium Agent; the other, even more talkative, was her friend and companion, recently widowed, Mrs Ross.
Now that he had eaten, Fleury was merely waiting for a break in the conversation before voicing his own opinion on progress. It came almost immediately. “If there has been any progress in our century,” he declared with confidence, “it has been less in material than in spiritual matters. Think of the progress from the cynicism and materialism of our grandparents...from a Gibbon to a Keats, from a Voltaire to a Lamartine!”
“I disagree,” replied Mr Rayne with a smile. “It’s only in practical matters that one may look for signs of progress. Ideas are always changing, certainly, but who’s to say that one is better than another?