Gabriel tried to decipher his tone. Was it judgment? Criticism?He saw the opportunity to shift the conversation from his family and took it. “What do you mean punctual as ever?”
“You’ve not been here the last several symposiums.” Norton smirked as he retrieved his handkerchief from his coat and pressed it against the perspiration gathering on his brow. “For years Miss Wilde has been the only woman to attend the lectures, at least since her mother died. It’s against our Society bylaws, and yet she’s always here. An abuse of power, if you ask me.”
Gabriel tilted his head to the side. “One could argue that it is her home.”
“Yes, but this is a Society event, and Miss Wilde treats it as her own personal hobby. What’s more, she’s taking advantage of her family’s reputation and plans to establish a girls school on the grounds. Absolutely wasteful, if you ask me. The Keatley family may have been instrumental to the Society’s establishment, but all this feminine interest is detrimental to the organization. It will muddy our purpose and the quality of our ideas.”
The animosity in the older man’s voice was no surprise to Gabriel.
“You’ve no doubt heard about her engagement to young Rawlston. It’s a shame for the Society. Rawlston has all the makings of a strong leader, with connections in Parliament that would be beneficial for all. But I suppose he can’t be faulted.”
At this Gabriel could not remain silent. “Faulted?”
“She might be a pretty thing, but just like I tell my own son, those sorts of women are the most dangerous. She’s far too high and mighty, like her mother, and Wilde has given her far too much rein. If she were my daughter, I’d insist that she stop making a fool of herself. A daughter who does not know her place becomes anunruly, undisciplined wife. No, I can’t fault Rawlston, and I’m sure he’ll end up with a better situation.”
Mr. Norton clarified why Miss Wilde was striving so hard to prove phrenology faulty. It did not matter what she said or how she said it—Miss Wilde had to work twice as hard to be recognized as sensible and steady. She could be loud, quiet, compliant, defiant, or display any other attribute, yet she would be discounted simply for being a woman.
It was not pity Gabriel felt for her, but more sympathy for the disrespect she was forced to endure. How difficult it would be to constantly be told to stand down. Mary had been in a similar situation. Very little she said was taken as fact. Men like Norton would never see a woman any other way.
After Mr. Norton moved on to another conversation, Gabriel looked back to Miss Wilde, who was speaking with Mr. Bauer just inside the entrance. He couldn’t hear the words being said, but he recognized Bauer’s tactic. His stance was wide, his chin was lifted, and his fists were propped on his hips—a tactic used by men, especially large men, to intimidate smaller persons by using their bodies in addition to their words to overpower others.
When the men began to take their seats, Gabriel sat next to Templeton at a far corner in the back where he could see the platform and still spy on Miss Wilde. Mr. Hawthorne took to the platform and called the meeting to order.
“Our Society has had its fair share of challenges over the years, and most of us here can recall the Society’s first experiences with phrenology. Mr. William Keatley and his daughter, Mrs. Leonora Wilde, spent time in Austria at phrenology’s birthplace, studying and testing the theory with like-minded individuals. I daresay we’reall aware of the challenges that arose from the early days of that relationship, and I count it a dark shadow on the Society’s past. It is my hope that we can move past previous prejudices, whatever they may be, and revisit this topic with open minds and an eagerness to discover truth and to separate fact from emotion.”
A round of applause echoed, and Mr. Hawthorne invited Mr. Bauer to the platform.
Once the applause faded, Mr. Bauer’s voice boomed. “As I stand before you as a phrenologist and a fellow natural philosopher, I’m well aware of how the topic of phrenology can incite division. As with many emerging theories, people will fall on both sides: those who understand and embrace the rationale behind it and those who are opposed. Many years ago I worked with Mr. William Keatley and Mrs. Leonora Wilde when they were in Austria, and in the decade since I’ve dedicated my professional life wholly to learning and understanding how phrenology could unlock our understanding of human behavior.”
Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at the somber faces of the men around him, noting how some nodded in agreement or glanced to the people next to them.
Mr. Bauer’s resonating voice continued. “Mr. Hawthorne alluded to the discord caused when a pamphlet reporting Mrs. Wilde’s phrenological assessment was circulated. I feel it only right to share publicly that, yes, I was involved in the writing of that report, but the study has changed since then. The last decade has seen many phrenological advances, and it is my solitary goal not only to bridge any broken gaps but to answer any questions you might have about this discipline.”
His buckled shoes squeaked and the wood platform groaned as he began to pace the length of the stage. “What is phrenology?It is not magic, nor is it sleight of hand. Phrenology, simply put, is the study of the shape of the head. Every bump, every indentation, every ridge tells us something about the personality or natural tendencies of the head’s owner. Does he bend toward anger? Slothfulness? Will he be a doting father and husband? All of these and so many more traits can be determined. For you see, the brain is the organ of the mind. It is not just one organ; rather, it is a collection of twenty-seven regions or organs, if you will. Each region is indicative of a trait, such as concentrativeness, combativeness, secretiveness, and so on.”
Mr. Bauer lifted a white porcelain model of a human head. The skull portion of the head was outlined with a thick black line, and the skull was divided into different sections, each of which was numbered. He pointed to the lines. “By studying the size and shape of each portion of the skull, we have a glimpse of the muscles and organs directly underneath it. Quite frankly, the size of that muscle or region is directly related to how much it is used. By correlating each region to a personality trait or characteristic, we can tell a great deal about an individual. When I feel for any bumps or indentations, note that I am looking for extremes. A neutral skull represents a neutral characteristic.”
As the man talked about the different sections and the character traits to which they corresponded, Gabriel shifted his focus to Mr. Gutt, the assistant. As gregarious as Mr. Bauer was, Mr. Gutt was not. Gabriel had not heard the man say a single word, and he’d only witnessed him taking part in a handful of conversations. Men such as Thomas Bauer, who would attempt to manipulate a group this size, would rarely act on their own. They would need some sort of reinforcement. What role was Mr. Gutt playing?
Gabriel glanced over to Miss Wilde, watching for any sort ofreaction. She remained stone-faced. He’d expected no less, for if she were to make any reaction at all, it would place her under scrutiny. Regardless, he was glad she was here so they could compare their thoughts on what they had experienced. And he, for one, was looking forward to it.
After the lecture Gabriel was certain of one thing: Mr. Bauer was indeed a persuasive speaker. He’d been engaging. Dynamic. Articulate.
Despite his impressive presentation, the audience’s reaction was mixed. Some responded enthusiastically to what had been discussed. Some nodded occasionally. Others had no reaction. The phrenological theory that he explained was attractive—if it could be proven true.
A flash of shimmery gray drew Gabriel’s attention to Miss Wilde as she stole along the back wall toward the west staircase. Curious, he angled his head to watch. The west staircase was reserved for servants and students. None of the guests would use the plain, narrow stairwell. She’d be alone.
Seizing the opportunity, Gabriel pushed against the crowd of slow-moving men and caught up enough to call to her. “Miss Wilde, a moment.”
She had just descended a few stairs but stopped and turned at her name. Perhaps he was only imagining an expression of relief on her oval face, but even so, he took it as encouragement to join her.
She waited for him to catch up with her before continuing. Once he was sure they were out of earshot and no one was following, he said, “I am eager to hear your thoughts on what we just witnessed.”
Her brows rose and she shook her head. “He said everything exactly as I expected him to say it, and he was incredibly eloquent. The sad thing is that there is no truth to it, and he presented the evidence as if the theory was conclusive.”
“I’ve shared with you that I interact with individuals who might engage in dubious professions. How convenient it would be if I could place my hands on their heads and ascertain their integrity and morality. It would certainly make my life a great deal easier.”
They reached the landing, and together they pivoted. Miss Wilde gathered her skirt in her hand and lifted her hem slightly to keep from tripping. “I can’t help but wonder, what of education? What of free will? What of necessity? He will argue at some point that people are, at their core, incapable of true change because of the shape of their head and the organs therein. Does that absolve people of their bad behavior? What of those who are endeavoring to better themselves?”
