importantly, by analogical reasoning. Throughout nature, each function has devoted to itself a particular organ. Sight has the eye; digestion, the stomach. It may be further observed that wherever the function is compound, the organ is correspondingly so, as in the case of the tongue, which has a nerve that subserves the sense of feeling and another that conveys the sense of taste. In short, ladies and gentlemen, in the entire human frame there is, as far as we know, not a single instance of one nerve performing two functions, or of two nerves performing the same function. Why is it then, as the honourable Captain Meadows has suggested, though not said in so many words, why is it, gentlemen, that Nature, so consistent in all matters, should break her established mould when it comes to that bony casement which is the record of the brain and in which is seated, like God Almighty on his throne in Heaven, that divine spark, the eternal soul of man?
‘As I have already said, it is true that there is no organ of murder, but there is a faculty intended to impart force and effectiveness in character and action which, when large, active and not restrained by the more conservative powers of the mind, may, nay,
will
inevitably lead to murder. While it is true, as the honourable Captain has argued, that every faculty of the human mind may be strengthened by judicious culture or weakened by disuse, it is also true that in some men, and in some races, the balance of countervailing faculties is so uneven that their faculty for force, unrestrained by their puny organs of ideality and conscientiousness, predisposes them towards violence and bloodshed. In that sense, gentlemen, one may consider a highly developed organ for force in the Caucasian brain almost the equivalent of an organ for murder in a certain kind of Asiatic or Negroid cranium: it will inevitably cause this Asiatic or Negroid man to commit murder, though it might not have the same result in the case of the Caucasian, whose brain most excels in the countervailing special organs of ideality, conscientiousness, amativeness and mirthfulness.’
Lord Batterstone’s trademark gesture of draining his glass of wine and pushing it away: end of speech. His noble face lit up by the sincerity of his convictions, the purity of his heart and blood. A moment of silence. Then thunderous applause from almost everyone except Captain Meadows and the Captain’s two staunch supporters, Mrs Grayper and her daughter, the lovely Mary. Meadows wondered what they would tell Major Grayper when he joined the three of them for dinner at the Grayper residence later that evening. He was looking forward to the dinner, as he always looked forward to his moments with Mary, but he could not help feeling that the steely Major Grayper, with those piercing grey eyes and pursed lips, tight in thought and suspicion, would side with Lord Batterstone.
22
Night has fallen when the three men walk into the opium den. The woman who runs it recognizes one of them as the man who had tossed her a coin just for messing up her hair when she — the old woman chuckles — had been preparing herself for more, much more than that. She does not like him but he obviously has money, and she likes money. Oh, she loves money, much more than her niece Jenny, who should be coming back soon, wants her to. But Jenny, thinks the old woman, Jenny has ideas. She is a nice girl, an affectionate, hard-working girl, but she has ideas, and she will get into trouble because of them. Like gambolling around with that Indian prince she has brought to this place twice already. Not that the old woman has anything against Indians and Chinese and suchlike, they pay more readily than the English do, but whoever heard of a charwoman and servant gambolling with a prince!
She bestirs herself for the new guests — there are three men already lying in an opiate daze in her den — and prepares a pipe for them. But only one of them, the tall wasted one
‘As I have already said, it is true that there is no organ of murder, but there is a faculty intended to impart force and effectiveness in character and action which, when large, active and not restrained by the more conservative powers of the mind, may, nay,
will
inevitably lead to murder. While it is true, as the honourable Captain has argued, that every faculty of the human mind may be strengthened by judicious culture or weakened by disuse, it is also true that in some men, and in some races, the balance of countervailing faculties is so uneven that their faculty for force, unrestrained by their puny organs of ideality and conscientiousness, predisposes them towards violence and bloodshed. In that sense, gentlemen, one may consider a highly developed organ for force in the Caucasian brain almost the equivalent of an organ for murder in a certain kind of Asiatic or Negroid cranium: it will inevitably cause this Asiatic or Negroid man to commit murder, though it might not have the same result in the case of the Caucasian, whose brain most excels in the countervailing special organs of ideality, conscientiousness, amativeness and mirthfulness.’
Lord Batterstone’s trademark gesture of draining his glass of wine and pushing it away: end of speech. His noble face lit up by the sincerity of his convictions, the purity of his heart and blood. A moment of silence. Then thunderous applause from almost everyone except Captain Meadows and the Captain’s two staunch supporters, Mrs Grayper and her daughter, the lovely Mary. Meadows wondered what they would tell Major Grayper when he joined the three of them for dinner at the Grayper residence later that evening. He was looking forward to the dinner, as he always looked forward to his moments with Mary, but he could not help feeling that the steely Major Grayper, with those piercing grey eyes and pursed lips, tight in thought and suspicion, would side with Lord Batterstone.
22
Night has fallen when the three men walk into the opium den. The woman who runs it recognizes one of them as the man who had tossed her a coin just for messing up her hair when she — the old woman chuckles — had been preparing herself for more, much more than that. She does not like him but he obviously has money, and she likes money. Oh, she loves money, much more than her niece Jenny, who should be coming back soon, wants her to. But Jenny, thinks the old woman, Jenny has ideas. She is a nice girl, an affectionate, hard-working girl, but she has ideas, and she will get into trouble because of them. Like gambolling around with that Indian prince she has brought to this place twice already. Not that the old woman has anything against Indians and Chinese and suchlike, they pay more readily than the English do, but whoever heard of a charwoman and servant gambolling with a prince!
She bestirs herself for the new guests — there are three men already lying in an opiate daze in her den — and prepares a pipe for them. But only one of them, the tall wasted one
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