Living with Monsters: A Study of the Art of Characterization in Aldous Huxley’s Novels 1032232390, 9781032232393

Citation preview

Literary Criticism and Cultural Theory

LIVING WITH MONSTERS A STUDY OF THE ART OF CHARACTERIZATION IN ALDOUS HUXLEY’S NOVELS Indrani Deb

Living with Monsters

Aldous Huxley is one of the most well-known modernist intellectuals of the first half of the twentieth century, excelling in novels, essays, philosophical tracts, and poems. His novels are special in that they use a unique form – the novel of ideas – with which to satirize human nature and the pride regarding human achievement. Few readers of English literature are not acquainted with books like Point Counter Point, Eyeless in Gaza, and Brave New World (novels dealt with in detail). A proper study of Huxley’s characterization in his novels opens up a veritable treasure-house of history, philosophy, psychology, and incisive satire. “Characterology”, as the art of projecting different kinds of characters is called, is an ancient art, which either aimed at representing the entire universe in a single individual, or the same in a variegated form through various individuals. Huxley uses the latter kind in his representation of character, and as such, a study of the characters of his novels opens up a general interpretation of the universe as a whole. Indrani Deb is the Principal of Nistarini College, Purulia, West Bengal, India, and has a teaching experience of more than 34 years. She is the author of four books – three academic books and the fourth being a collection of short stories. She has also 26 articles published in various books and journals. She is a well-known speaker at various national and international seminars and conferences. She is the recipient of 5 awards, among which is the prestigious “Shiksha Ratna” award from the West Bengal government and the “Best Principal award” from the University of Burdwan.

Literary Criticism and Cultural Theory

Recycling Virginia Woolf in Contemporary Art and Literature Edited by Monica Latham, Caroline Marie and Anne-Laure Rigeade Lu Xun’s Affirmative Biopolitics Nothingness and the Power of Self-Transcendence Wenjin Cui Queer Women in Modern Spanish Literature Activism, Sexuality, and the Otherness of the ‘Chicas Raras’ Edited by Ana I. Simón-Alegre and Lou Charnon-Deutsch Telling Details Chinese Fiction, World Literature Jiwei Xiao Erich Auerbach and the Secular World Literary Criticism, Historiography, Post-Colonial Theory and Beyond Jon Nixon Living with Monsters A Study of the Art of Characterization in Aldous Huxley’s Novels Indrani Deb Trauma, Post-Traumatic Growth, and World Literature Metamorphoses and a Literary Arts Praxis Suzanne LaLonde For more information about this series, please visit: https://www. routledge.com/Literary-Criticism-and-Cultural-Theory/book-series/ LITCRITANDCULT

Living with Monsters A Study of the Art of Characterization in Aldous Huxley’s Novels

Indrani Deb

First published 2022 by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 and by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2022 Indrani Deb The right of Indrani Deb to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this title has been requested ISBN: 978-1-032-23239-3 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-25705-1 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-27638-8 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003276388 Typeset in Sabon by KnowledgeWorks Global Ltd.

To my family

Contents

Preface

1 Character-building in Huxley’s Novels

viii

1

2 Point Counter Point

26

3 Eyeless in Gaza

82

4 The Futuristic Novels: “Brave New World”, “Ape and Essence”, “Island”

143

5 Huxley’s World View and His Characters

179

Bibliography Index

235 239

Preface

“Although Modernism can be clearly identified as a distinctive movement, in its deliberate distance from and challenge to more traditional forms of art and thought, it is also strongly characterized by its internal diversity of methods and emphases: a restless and often directly competitive sequence of innovations and experiments, always more immediately recognized by what they are breaking from than by what, in any simple way, they are breaking towards. Even the range of basic cultural positions within Modernism stretches from an eager embrace of modernity, either in its new technical and mechanical forms or in the equally significant attachments to ideas of social and political revolution, to conscious options for past and exotic cultures as sources or at least as fragments against the modern world, from the Futuristic affirmation of the city to Eliot’s pessimistic recoil.”1 Raymond Williams’s definition of Modernism defies all those who regard the Modernist period as merely one of experiments in technique and form, to the relative unimportance of substance and matter. Aldous Huxley is a Modernist in all the implications of the term, innovating and experimenting with the form of the novel (Point Counter Point, Eyeless in Gaza, Ape and Essence), while asserting the ideas of the writer in connection with “social and political revolution”, at the same time referring to “past and exotic cultures as sources and fragments against the modern world” (Eyeless in Gaza, Brave New World, Ape and Essence, Island). And the instrument with which he does this is Character. Contrary to modern critical trends, which have a tendency to view a certain text from one fixed point – historical, psychological, racial, postcolonial, linguistic, structural, sexual, or some such – I have tried to judge Huxley’s novels as a whole, taking into account all the nuances of his thought, philosophy, and art; and in doing this, I have found that an extensive analysis of character encompasses all these. Huxley’s characters are not merely a vehicle for expressing his own opinions; they are also an instrument for expressing existent contradictory contemporary opinions because the form of the novel-of-ideas requires him to make them so. As such, the contemporary social, political, and

Preface ix philosophical scene becomes almost as important and forms an integral part of this book. In the process of working on this subject, I have had to read the opinions of several critics on Huxley, who have often acted as a catalyst to my own ideas and understanding of Huxley. Several cues and clues have been obtained from them, not merely as providing a source of new and varied interpretation but also as a source of healthy debate when their interpretations have been at odds with my own. I have especially been indebted to the works of Philip Bowering and Peter Firchow, who have helped in firing my intellect and knowledge of Huxley and the conditions in which he wrote. However, I humbly declare that in spite of the several source materials which have been of use to me, this present book provides a point of view which is quite original in several respects – its organization, its emphasis, the fact that it maintains that a study of character provides an all-encompassing understanding of Huxley, and the discussion of how Huxley’s delineation of character expresses his philosophy of life, especially his observations on the concepts of East and West. This work would never have been accomplished without the active support and help of my supervisor, the late Dr. Akram Hossein Mollah, who never hesitated to give me his time and hear me out, even in the midst of the most trying personal and family problems. I have nothing to give him but my respectful gratitude. My thanks are also due to Prof. Debnarayan Banerjee, at present the Vice Chancellor of Bankura University, for valuable advice, and to the late Prof. Anindya Basu-Roy, Dept. of English, Vidyasagar University, for a similar reason. Most of my reference work has been carried out in the National Library, Kolkata, and I could not have spent long hours there with the rare books which I required without the help of the Asst. Librarian in the reading room. My thanks are also due to the erstwhile Librarian of the Nistarini College Library, Mr. Sunil Musib, for providing me with whatever help he was capable of. Finally, my heartfelt thanks to my husband, Prof. Chhandam Deb, Dept. of English, J.K. College, for advice, suggestions, support, and guidance. Vidyasagar University has provided me with a new arena for research and investigation into the nuances of literature. I am grateful to this University for allowing me more of liberty and less of red tape in doing my work. I hope to continue my friendship with this University for a long time to come.

Endnote 1 Raymond Williams, The Politics of Modernism (London, Verso, 1989), p. 43.

1

Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels

Characters, according to M.H. Abrams, are “the persons presented in a dramatic or narrative work, who are interpreted by the reader as being endowed with moral, dispositional, and emotional qualities that are expressed in what they say – the dialogue – and by what they do – the action”.1 Characters can be real or imaginary; human, animal, or supernatural; but above all, they must be “consistent” – that is, they must not suddenly act in a way which is implausible or counter to the temperament which has already been logically ascertained in them by the writer. E.M. Forster’s definition for character-­ types has become the most popular because of its simplicity. A “flat” character, he says, is two-­ dimensional, always predictable, is built around “a single idea or quality”, and does not adapt to succeeding happenings or actions in the novel. A “round” character, on the other hand, is complex, subtle, and being more like a real-­life person, is capable of changing with circumstance, and of surprising the reader with some unpredictable actions or thoughts – We may divide characters into flat and round. Flat characters were called ‘humours’ in the seventeenth century, and are sometimes called ‘types’, and sometimes caricatures. In their purest form, they are constructed round a single idea or quality; when there is more than one factor in them, we get the beginning of the curve towards the round. 2 And Forster also reminds us of the great advantages of flat characters – One great advantage of flat characters is that they are easily recognized whenever they come in… A second advantage is that they are easily remembered by the reader afterwards. They remain in his mind as unalterable for the reason that they were not changed by circumstances; they moved through circumstances, which gives them in retrospect a comforting quality….3 DOI: 10.4324/9781003276388-1

2  Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels Of round characters he says – The test of a round character is whether it is capable of surprising in a convincing way. If it never surprises, it is flat. If it does not convince, it is flat pretending to be round. It has the incalculability of life about it….4 This terminology will be used broadly used in the succeeding pages in connection with the characters of Huxley, not because it is the best definition, but because it is the most convenient. What Forster omits mentioning, however, is that the “round” character has originated from the Rennaissance concept of the “microcosm”, – the “little Universe” – who represents the world in miniature, and all the workings of God. Francis Bacon agrees with the ancient concept that “man was microcosmus, an abstract or model of the world”.5 Sir Walter Raleigh said that “in the little frame of man’s body there is a representation of the Universal; and (by allusion) a kind of participation of all the parts there, therefore was man called Microcosmos, or the little World”.6 The “flat” or “type” character also has ancient roots in the old literary genre called “the Character”, and which too became popular in the early seventeenth century. The “Characters” of Theophrastus of Lesbos (371–287 B.C.) had been translated in 1592 by Casaubon, and this prototypal work had several imitations during the Rennaissance, in the pamphlets of Nashe, Greene, and Nicholas Breton, and in some contributions of Webster, Dekker, and Donne to Sir Thomas Overbury’s compilation, Characters (1614). A true descendent of Theophrastus is John Earle, who published Microcosmographie in 1628 – a gallery of type portraits, generally believed to be the best of its time. Three categories of “type” characters are followed in such character-­sketches – a) an ordinary type with a single mood or quality – such as the angry man, the jealous man, or the conceited man; b) a social type – as a typical clerk, a gambler, or a lawyer; and c) a place or scene, such as a tavern or a college.7 “Characterology”, as the art of projecting different kinds of characters is called, is therefore an ancient art, which either aimed at representing the entire universe in a single individual, or the same in a variegated form through various individuals. It is only in modern times that qualitative differentiation is made between the former and the latter kinds, the former being regarded as a superior form of character representation to the latter. The novel of ideas is a form that essentially uses the character-­type most often found in the genre called “Characters”. Barring a few exceptions, the characters we find here are necessarily “flat” to suit the different modes of discourse represented by each person. From Thomas Love Peacock in the early nineteenth century, through Thomas Mann, to Aldous Huxley in the twentieth, the picture is more or less the same – a small world which encompasses several different characters representing

Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels 3 variegated points of view, adding up to a total picture of a flawed social set-­up. In such a condition a group of “round” characters would never fit, for different ideas must be shared and inter-­related in a black-­and-­ white succession to form an integrated pattern. “Flat” and “type” characters are often used as synonymous, even by Forster, though there is a subtle difference between them. All flat characters are not types, even though all type characters are invariably flat. Prospero in The Tempest for instance, is flat, because he is projected from a single angle, and does not adapt to the actions around him – rather, he makes the actions happen. He, however, cannot be called a “type” in any of the senses listed earlier. In the same way, Cordelia in Lear is flat, and not a type. The characters in the novel of ideas, however, tend to be social and moral types, aiming to project a social picture, which is criticized and held up for comment. Type characters are especially used for two reasons  – comic and satiric. Dickens, for instance, used them for a comic effect, highlighting a particular flaw – a crooked nose, or a dry cough. Huxley uses them for satire, hardly ever for comedy alone. Amusement and wit are always involved; never a hearty laugh. His aim, as he declares, is to illustrate the “philosophy of meaninglessness” reigning in modern urban society, and in doing so, to find a way out of it. On this philosophy of meaninglessness, this is Huxley himself in Ends and Means – Does the world as a whole possess the value and meaning that we constantly attribute to certain parts of it (such as human beings and their works); and, if so, what is the nature of that value and meaning? This is a question which, a few years ago, I should not even have posed. For, like so many of my contemporaries, I took it for granted that there was no meaning. This was partly due to the fact that I shared the common belief that the scientific picture of an abstraction from reality was a true picture of reality as a whole; partly also to other non-­intellectual reasons. I had motives for not wanting the world to have a meaning; consequently assumed that it had none, and was able without any difficulty to find satisfying reasons for this assumption.8 As the worthy grandson of T.H. Huxley, it is indeed remarkable that Aldous Huxley should take on himself the task of warning mankind of the tremendous influence of the philosophy of meaninglessness in a world which was being increasingly steered by scientific principles. But the years after the First World War constituted a period very different from the comparatively less complex period of the late nineteenth century. The tremendous upheaval of the Great War had turned all social and moral values topsy-­turvy, and more so in England, because there the beginning of the twentieth century had witnessed an age of development in all fields – social, economic, and artistic.

4  Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels Towards the last years of the Victorian era, the society had been undergoing a general reaction to traditional, orthodox, and restrictive values, and with the growing popularity of Marxism, and with revolutionary theories in the sphere of Physics and Biology, the roots of this kind of social temperament were severely shaken. Political changes throughout the world introduced a new sphere of interest to the youth, and just as the mainstay of the Victorian regime had been religion, it was politics now. There was, moreover, a shift in the political balance, for the lower middle class was rising, and the working classes were not as they were before – thanks to the Third Reform Act of 1884, the County Councils Act of the same year, the rise of the grammar schools after 1902, and along with them, a development of universal education. Even though the predominant class structure was strongly authoritarian, there were signs that the upper classes were no longer quite what they had been. We find Henry James referring to the “clumsy, conventional, materialized, vulgarized, brutalized life of London”, where the state of the English upper classes was “in many ways very much the same rotten and collapsible one of the French aristocracy”. A general demand for “change” was in the air, and along with the unprecedented influence of Marxism, which brought in a new sense of “community”, there was a call from several quarters for old customs to be replaced. The sudden crash of high hopes, the economic depression, and the realization of the infinite cruelty and beastliness of which human kind is capable – a realization which the Great War brought in – acted as a contrast to the complacency of the previous era. Everything in the world revolved around Einstein’s theory of relativity, and science became totally opposed to morality and religion. Darwin and Thomas Huxley had already loosened the foundations of religion, once and for all breaking to pieces the concept of the immortal soul and the superiority of man. Morality now was brought under the axe, for apart from implying traditional values, it could not be of much consequence in a world in which nothing was worthy, serious, meaningful, or long-­lived. Those who had the means indulged in a life of meaningless pleasure, and their children did likewise. The divorce rate soared, love lost its meaning, and human relationships began to be calculated in economic terms. For those who did not have the means, however, life went on as it had done for ages. It is thus to the middle and upper middle classes that Huxley chose to restrict himself, for it is here that the philosophy of meaninglessness had the most takers. Huxley himself describes their life thus – Good times are chronic nowadays. There is dancing every afternoon, a continuous performance at all the picture-­palaces, a radio concert on tap, like gas or water, at any hour of the day or night. The fine point of seldom pleasure is duly blunted…It is only among more or less completely rustic populations, lacking the means and

Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels 5 the opportunity to indulge in the modern chronic Good Time, that the surviving feasts preserve something of their ancient glory. Me, personally, the unflagging pleasures of contemporary cities leave me most lugubriously unamused. The prevailing boredom – for oh, how desperately bored, in spite of their grim determination to have a Good Time, the majority of pleasure-­seekers really are! – the hopeless weariness infects me!9 The people of these social classes had exactly the intellectual capability he required to expound the dialectics of the ideal with which he wished to comment on the times; they had exactly the right kind of understanding he later required to discover a new road to knowledge and peace – the Perennial Religion. Their intellectuality, moreover, made them lead just the kind of one-­sided lives that he needed in order to exemplify the “split” personalities that modern society created: wholeness of character was rare in such a society because the people, for the greater part, led the life of the body, with no time for the mind or spirit. If the person was a scientist or a writer, his life, again, was that of the intellect, with a conscious neglect of even the body – In the case of scientists and philosophers this ineptitude outside their line of business isn’t surprising….Indeed, it is almost inevitable. For it’s obvious that excessive development of the purely mental functions lends to atrophy of all the rest.10 Huxley’s characters are primarily people of their times, rooted in the second and third decades of the twentieth century, and inextricably related to the environment in which they were born. A Mrs. Aldwinkle with her fear of old age (Those Barren Leaves) or a Lucy Tantamount with her infinite fear of boredom (Point Counter Point) or Coleman and his negativism (Antic Hay) are people easily to be seen in the upper echelons of society in the twenties. The circle may be a limited one, but the barrenness of the spirit in the age is best illustrated through such people. *   *   * Apart from being indebted to the genre, “the Character”, Huxley has several predecessors and even contemporaries who have directly or indirectly affected the manner in which he has delineated character. The first in this regard is without doubt Thomas Love Peacock, who was the first English dramatist to use the “Discussion novel” as his form. His work shows certain features which are perfected and exhibited by Huxley later, but which are never totally segregated from their Peacockian roots. Peacock’s characters are simple and two-­dimensional, but they remain in our minds because their energy is not diffused, but concentrated on a single fixed direction. Of course, monomania has one flaw – the lack

6  Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels of variety; and so, even if his settings and incidents change, the perspectives of the characters do not, and literary acrobatics are used to avoid the threat of repetitiousness. Apart from such obvious similarities between the characters of Peacock and those of Huxley, we also find certain tendencies in the former, which emphatically return in the latter. One such tendency is to delineate moral abstractions. All the characters of Melincourt are such, except Sir Oran, and almost everyone speaks in the same way. Mr. Toobad in Nightmare Abbey is one other such example. Another feature is the abundance of animal imagery in projecting the characters, and Sir Oran Haut-­ton is almost an embodiment of an animal, being a kind of noble orang-­outang. The splurge of baboon images in After Many a Summer is in many ways similar, especially the character of the Fifth Earl of Gonister, who actually turns into a baboon over time. The popularity of animal images with Huxley is a distinctive feature of his characterization, and this will later be discussed in detail. Also common to both Huxley and Peacock is the identification of characters with figures from real life. In Nightmare Abbey, for instance, Peacock has projected Byron as Mr. Cypress, and Shelley as Scythrop. Analogies abound in Huxley – Lawrence as Rampion, and Middleton Murry as Burlap in Point Counter Point; his own brother George as Brian in Eyeless in Gaza, and he himself as various characters in various novels, are obvious examples. Apart from Peacock, Huxley has been more or less influenced by certain mystical or religious teaching, of which the ideas of Gandhi’s non-­violence and Buddha’s non-­attachment have been the more lasting, entering in one form or another in all his works, essay and novel alike. Along with the progression of the novels, we see a gradual intensification of the idea of mysticism as an answer to worldly evils, this idea being embodied in certain representative characters like Calamy in Those Barren Leaves or Mr. Propter in After Many a Summer. This intensification is so great in the later novels, that Ape and Essence begins with the lines – It was the day of Gandhi’s assassination; but on Calvary the sightseers were more interested in the contents of their picnic-­baskets than in the possible significance of the, after all, rather common-­ place event they had turned out to witness. Ptolemy was perfectly right: the centre of the universe is here, not there. Gandhi might be dead; but across the desk in his office, across the lunch table in the Studio Commissary, Bob Briggs was concerned to talk only about himself.11 Huxley is astonished that life can go on as usual after Gandhi’s death. And so many works reiterate a non-­violent eschewing of worldly pleasure as the only answer to the vagaries of existence.

Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels 7 Of the other major influences on Huxley, two are the most potent. Huxley himself has never been able to break away totally from the world view represented by D.H. Lawrence, even though the latter’s influence is felt most keenly in the earlier works; and apart from the hallowed representations of his friend in various works (Rampion, for instance) he also expresses direct opinions in certain essays. Before he turned to Eastern philosophy for solace, it was Lawrence who served as his ideal – Seen through the eyes of the philosophic historian, the Puritan reveals himself as the most abnormal sexual pervert of whom we have record, while Grundyism stands out as the supremely unnatural vice. It was against this unnatural vice and the perverts who practise it that D.H.Lawrence waged almost his latest battle. A militant, crusading moralist, he hurled himself on what he regarded as the evil thing, the wicked people… Man is an animal that thinks. To be a first-­rate human being, a man must be both a first-­rate animal and a first-­rate thinker…Lawrence concerned himself primarily with these psychological reforms. The problem, for him, was to bring the animal and the thinker together again, was to make them co-­operate in the building up of consummate manhood.12 The Lawrentian ideal will be discussed at length in the analysis of Rampion in Chapter II. The other writer whom Huxley could never ignore, but who is more responsible for a negative reaction from the latter, is Dostoevsky. It is his conception of the essential evil in mankind, the Satanic power of human vice, which affects him deeply, and which recurs throughout his work. The respect with which he holds Dostoevsky is undeniable – A child, Ilusha, suffers and dies in Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov. Why is this history so agonizingly moving, when the tale of Little Nell leaves us not merely cold, but derisive? Comparing the two stories, we are instantly struck by the incomparably greater richness in factual detail of Dostoevsky’s creation. Feeling did not prevent him from seeing and recording, or rather re-­creating. All that happened near Ilusha’s deathbed he saw, unerringly. The emotion-­ blinded Dickens noticed practically nothing of what went on in Little Nelly’s neighbourhood during the child’s last days.13 This healthy respect for Dostoevsky’s outlook is linked with the cause of his respect for the Lawrentian world view – that emotion and intellect

8  Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels should co-­exist in the making of a complete human being. Which is the reason for his dislike of Dickens – “One of Dickens’s most striking peculiarities is that, whenever in his writing he becomes emotional, he ceases instantly to use his intelligence”.14 But he is not so attracted to the Dostoevskian atmosphere as he is to the qualities of that writer, and he clearly expresses his reservations about some of the views of Dostoevsky – Even a man of Dostoevsky’s intelligence oracularly affirms that ‘all things would be permitted’ if there was no such thing as immortality. These moralists seem to forget that there are many human beings who simply don’t want to pass their lives eating, drinking, and being merry, or, alternatively, like Russian heroes, raping, murdering, or morally torturing their friends. The deadly tedium of the Horatian and the nauseating unpleasantness of the Dostoevskyan life would be quite enough, survival or no survival, to keep me at any rate (in these matters one can only speak for oneself) unswervingly in the narrow way of domestic duty and intellectual labour.15 What results is the Original Sin recurring throughout the novels in the form of Coleman, Dr. Obispo, or Spandrell. On the whole, Huxley’s tendencies are anti-­romantic, and the writers for whom he expresses admiration – Donne or Ben Jonson, or Balzac, for instance – are those who have their feet more or less firmly placed on the ground. The Romantics he abhors, with the possible exception of Blake and Shelley, and he openly questions the greatness of Wordsworth16, and declares that he prefers Chaucer to Keats17. Inclining towards the comic and the satirical, it is no real matter of speculation as to which way he will turn. His natural flair is towards what he terms the “Human Vomedy”18. The word implies a combination of comedy and satire. *   *   * Satire is as a form essentially dependent on exaggeration for its effect. Since Huxley’s primary aim, especially in his earlier novels, is satire, an element of exaggeration automatically enters them. Huxley’s novels are a fine example of Indirect or Menippean satire in the form of discussions and disputes. Northrop Frye, in the Anatomy of Criticism, suggests the word “Anatomy” for this type of satire, which consists of a series of extended dialogues and debates in which a group of people from all intellectual walks of life represent their various points of view, and are made ludicrous through their own representations. The characters of this type must necessarily be two-­dimensional, because they must have a fixed view point to express. The charge of one-­sidedness in Huxley’s

Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels 9 characters, of their unchangeability, and their role as mouth-­pieces of a single point of view – in a word, of their “flatness” – is thus not without a strong base. But Huxley has evidently created his people in this manner with a certain purpose in mind – that of exposing the society as it is. In his later novels, from Eyeless in Gaza onwards, the satirical aim is carried on a step further – it turns more didactic, with a clear aim of not only exposing, but of correcting the times. The characters, therefore, should be viewed as an instrument in the hands of the novelist to fulfil a certain purpose. Art is something that should be judged for its own sake. To set up the kind of rounded characters of, let us say, Jane Austen, or Virginia Woolf, or Henry James, as the ideal, and then expect all novelists to aspire to that ideal or be persecuted for it, is neither logical nor just. The roundness or flatness of the characters of a novel primarily depends on the purpose of the novelist. Huxley never aims at roundness; rather, through Philip Quarles in Point Counter Point he reels off all the charges that critics are expected to direct at his characters – The chief defect of the novel of ideas is that you must write about people who have ideas to express – which excludes all but .01 per cent of the human race. Hence the real, the congenital novelists don’t write such books. But then I never pretended to be a congenital novelist.19 Since Philip Quarles is Aldous Huxley himself, the “I” can be interpreted to refer to himself. So, he continues – The great defect of the novel of ideas is that it is a made-­up affair. Necessarily; for people who can reel off neatly formulated notions aren’t quite real; they’re slightly monstrous. Living with monsters becomes rather tiresome in the long run. 20 Or – …my under-­acquisitiveness is heredity as well as acquired. In any case I find myself uninterested in possessions and rather unsympathetic with, and without understanding of, those who are. No predominantly acquisitive character has appeared in any of my stories. It is a defect; for acquisitives are obviously very common in real life. But I doubt if I could make such a character interesting – not being interested myself in the acquisitive passion. 21 The greatest critic of Huxley is Huxley himself, for no one is better aware of his own defects – if they can be called defects at all. “Defects with a purpose” is a contradiction in terms. If Huxley has chosen to create

10  Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels his characters flat and unchangeable, he has done it to serve an artistic design. One may acquiesce to that design, or one may not, but agreement with or disagreement to an author’s point of view should not be the yardstick for any formal assessment of his work. Characters in literature are created “round” or “flat” in accordance with the world view presented in the work concerned. Novels, which are devoted to the delineation of the psychology or fate of a certain person or group of persons, generally have round characters. Huxley creates two-­dimensional characters because his subject is society as a whole, and not the individual. James Joyce, Joseph Conrad, or Leo Tolstoy wrote with an emphasis on their protagonists, a whole novel devoted to the character of Anna Karenina or Stephen Dedalus or to Lord Jim. Huxley, being more concerned with the totality of society, paints such characters, each of which represents a facet of the whole. The characters taken together form a complete world view, a complete picture of the life the author wishes to portray. Antic Hay, as the title itself suggests, is a mad, senseless dance in which the people move round and round in circles without actually reaching anywhere. Those Barren Leaves depicts a world as barren as those leaves. And as for Point Counter Point, a review in The Guardian says it all – “Point Counter Point is a monstrous exposure of a society which confuses pleasure with happiness, sensation with sensibility, mood with opinion, opinion with conviction, and self with God”. In such a scheme of things, each character is represented as consisting of a single value: in Eyeless in Gaza, for example, we have the sex-­ symbol (Mary Amberley), the intellectual (Anthony Beavis), the possessive but religious mother (Mrs. Foxe), the deeply conscientious friend (Brian), the romantic fool (Hugh Ledwidge), the intellectual, modern woman (Helen), the Nihilist (Mark Staithes), the physically starved, simplistic woman (Joan Thursley), and the spiritual guru (Miller) – all together serving to create an effect of a totality, of a complete social circle, in which the modern human condition can most aptly be illustrated. Each character can be summed up in a phrase, and each phrase goes to make up the total picture. The same goes for the other novels. The only difference between them is that in the novels before Eyeless in Gaza the novelist’s sole purpose in creating such a world of marionettes is to attack the times in which such persons are allowed to develop; after Eyeless in Gaza Huxley attempts to evolve a philosophy which may serve as the answer to the spiritual problems of the modern world. As such, in the earlier novels we had only people like Scogan or Rampion to comment on the faults of human beings. In the later novels, a Miller or a Propter appear to expound the new “religion” to the world. We must, however, grant that Huxley’s characters do have something of the grotesque in them – much like the characters of the beast fable,

Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels 11 for example, where a single human trait is highlighted in a character in a general atmosphere of bestiality. To quote George Woodcock – Neither fabulists or satirists are inclined toward naturalism…The fabulist needs well-­defined types, and the satirist needs unbalanced, exaggerated natures; and Huxley’s novels abound in both….The Satirist-­Fabulist attitude also determined the choice of characters. 22 In such a jungle only one or two human beings tramp the scene – people like Rampion (Point Counter Point), or the Savage (Brave New World), or Dr. Poole (Ape and Essence)  – who attempt to instil some human qualities into the beasts around them, without much success. Huxley himself seems to be well aware of this grotesqueness, as we find when Philip Quarles enters these lines in his notebook – The great defect of the novel of ideas is that it is a made-­up affair. Necessarily, for people who can reel off neatly formulated notions aren’t quite real; they’re slightly monstrous. Living with monsters becomes rather tiresome in the long run. 23 When only a single aspect of a person is allowed to develop, to the sacrifice of all his other faculties, such a person no doubt becomes “slightly monstrous”. A complete human being emerges only when his emotional, intellectual, and physical faculties are all in perfect balance, neither gaining too great a precedence over the others. Over-­indulging any of these leads to a certain de-­humanization, and therefore monstrosity. “Monstrosity” in this sense is common in almost all of Huxley’s novels, with the exception of perhaps Island, but the best illustration of this feature is probably Point Counter Point, where ill-­balanced characters are very often defined in terms of beasts. Spandrel was “like a gargoyle….There was one at Notre Dame in just that attitude, leaning forward with his demon’s face between his claws”. 24 Lord Edward, trespassing into one of his wife’s parties, “had a certain air….of one of those monsters which haunt the palaces of only the best of most aristocratic families. The Beastie of Glamis, the Minotaur itself could have aroused more interest than Lord Edward….He turned this way and that….like the slow ponderous balancing of a camel’s neck”. 25 The orchid in John Bidlake’s button-­hole “resembled the face of a yawning serpent”26 Lady Tantamount’s party was “a jungle of noise”, where the people “were the roots of the trees and their voices were the stems and waving branches and festooned lianas – yes, and the parrots and the chattering monkeys as well”. 27 Mary Rampion refers to Burlap first as “a vulture”, and then as “a parasite” and a “spiritual leech”, who has Rampion’s “blood in him….and the blood of all the other people he feeds on”. 28 Lucy’s smile reminds Quarles of “sacred crocodiles in the palace gardens of Jaipur”,

12  Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels to whom the Indian guide was “throwing bits of meat”.29 And the list is interminable. Even Philip Quarles, the incorrigible intellectual, is called “a monkey on the superhuman side of humanity….Almost human, like those poor chimpanzees”.30 In Point Counter Point people are analogous to beasts. In After Many a Summer, we see a man turning into a beast; and in Ape and Essence, the Third World War has not left man any better. Apart from their proximity to the beast fable, Huxley’s characters are reminiscent also of the Jonsonian “humours”, particularly the kind illustrated in Volpone, where all the characters, apart from the humanized ones, are named after beasts of prey, and act likewise. Huxley’s characters form a perfect menagerie, quite like Jonson’s; where each character represents an over-­balancing of a particular trait in the human system – so much so, that they can be identified by the features they represent. Huxley’s admiration for Jonson was sound and explicit – Like Donne he was a satirist. He had no use for claptrap, or rant, or Romanticism. His aim was to give his audience real facts flavoured with sound morality.31 And again – No raking up of literary history will make Ben Jonson great as a founder of a school or an inspirer of others. His greatness is a greatness of character. There is almost something alarming in the spectacle of this formidable figure advancing with tank-­like irresistibility towards the goal he has set himself to attain. No sirens of romance can seduce him, no shock of opposition unseat him in his career.32 And his analysis of Ben Jonson’s humours is not unlike the evaluation of his own aims and purposes – Ben’s reduction of human beings to a series of rather unpleasant Humours is sound and medicinal. Humours do not, of course, exist in actuality; they are true only as caricatures are true. There are times when we wonder whether a caricature is not, after all, truer than a photograph; there are others when it seems a stupid lie. But at all times a caricature is disquieting; and it is very good for most of us to be made uncomfortable.33 There is no doubt that Huxley was attracted to Jonson’s mode of caricature, and that, like Jonson, his purpose was to make people uncomfortable. It needs to be emphasized, however, that in Volpone Ben Jonson shifts somewhat from his earlier proposal “to sport with human follies not with crimes” (in the Prologue to Every Man in his Humour),

Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels 13 for in the later work we come up more against vices than follies. If the theory of humours is extended to include any single outstanding vice in a particular character, then the analogy with Huxley’s people becomes more meaningful. For in Huxley too, the animating principle behind the creation of the characters is not as innocuous as a “folly” – except perhaps in the equally innocuous people like Mr. Cardan in Crome Yellow, or Mrs. Aldwinkle in Those Barren Leaves, or Polly Logan in Point Counter Point. Rather, if the meaning of “humours” is extended to mean those traits which are particularly harmful both to the individual and the society, then Huxley’s characters are indeed Jonsonian. With one difference. Unlike Jonson, Huxley differentiates not between the four external elements that influence the human being – fire, air, earth, and water; but between the four internal faculties of man – his physical, intellectual, emotional, and spiritual entities. The imbalance occurs by the overdose of one or the other of these traits, while a complete human being is totally balanced, making use of all his faculties in equal measure. Huxley’s whole endeavour is to strike the right balance, and he refuses to consider a human being as complete if this balance is not maintained. Model characters in his novels are the Rampions in Point Counter Point or Miller in Eyeless in Gaza or Gumbril Sr. in Antic Hay. Evidently, such characters are introduced with the intention of setting up a yardstick by which other, less balanced characters may be judged. The intention is, again, similar to Ben Jonson setting up Bonario and Celia as role models in Volpone, against the majority of crows and ravens and vultures and foxes. Type characters and stock situations, though much maligned, have been the mainstay of comedy, especially satirical comedy, right from the days of the New Comedy of Greece of the Fourth Century B.C., and of which Menander was the chief exponent. It was this comedy that set the pattern for Plautus and Terence, and through them to the modern European comedy of intrigue down to fairly recent times. Such characters were carried on into the novel after it was developed and were used not merely in novels of comedy, farce, and satire, but as good supporting characters in “tragic” and psychological novels as well. Since the exaggeration of vices and faults is the essence of satire, the characters in which such vices appear are necessarily exaggerated or one-­ sided. The aim of the artist being ridicule and not character-­study, such “flatness” is especially convenient. The convenience is greatly increased if the character-­types are easily recognizable, for then a few touches of description will suffice to make them acceptable to the reader. For example, the character-­types in a beast-­fable are set to pattern, and a mere mention of names is usually sufficient for immediate recognition. No elaboration is necessary. A fox is a representation of cunning, and an ass of folly, and these types are not generally made to differ. “Flatness” can be used, of course, purely for comic reasons, as we see in Dickens,

14  Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels but it is best used in satire, as the development of the novel shows. By the time we come to the novel of ideas the type character gains an added importance. When a number of people are made to come together and talk, the conversation which thus follows becomes more meaningful if each person represents a particular point of view. The conflict of various ideologies and opinions deepens the interest and brings up for debate the pros and cons of each view point. Moreover, however modern or complex the subjects of debate may be, the characters always fit into archetypal patterns which have come down over generations. Analogies can also be found in classical mythologies – as we see in the teacher-­learner combination (the guru-­shishya tradition) represented by Odysseus and Telemachus. In Huxley we have the Mr. Propter-­Pete, or the Dr. Miller-­ Anthony Beavis, or the Rampion-­Quarles combinations. Another recurrent character-­type is the Circe figure, who is in perpetual search for love-­victims – as we have in Myra Viveash, Lucy Tantamount, Veronica Thwale, or Anna. We have the Satan figure exuding evil, and balancing the “guru” figure – as in Spandrell, Coleman, or Dr. Obispo, or Ivor or Eustace Barnack, who even descends into Hell. The list can be extended indefinitely. The point is that both tradition and modernism are made to co-­exist in Huxley’s men and women. They are modern because they represent modern viewpoints in a twentieth-­century context. Yet, the character-­types have the authenticity of tradition and are as easily recognizable as those of a Morality Play. Whatever universality these novels have is contributed by the long-­standing image of these tested character-­t ypes. Modernism gives these novels their freshness; tradition gives them authenticity. With these considerations in mind, we must judge Huxley’s characters not as stiff, flat marionettes born merely to uphold a certain point of view, but as spokes in the great wheel of the author’s philosophy of life. *   *   * The method or manner in which such characters are unravelled to the reader is typically Huxleyan and one which is eminently suited to the type of characters described above. The novel of ideas, which Huxley adopts to suit his purpose, began in England – and in Europe too – as a “conversation novel”, and it is primarily conversation which acts as the medium of exposing character in Huxley as well. Indeed, apart from his first novel, Crome Yellow, and his last, Island, all his other novels are somewhat more than mere “conversation novels”, in which action is used judiciously to serve the overall purpose. But to whatever extent action may be introduced, the unequivocal role of talk cannot be denied. In fact, action in a novel of ideas is subordinated to the author’s dogmatic convictions, which is in turn antecedent to the delineation of character – in the words of Harold H. Watts, “What is firm in much of this fiction is the continuous polemic drive, and the subordination to it of event and the delineation of persons”.34

Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels 15 Apart from conversation, Huxley also employs other devices that expose character in their own way. Action, of course, is universal in its ability to aid the interpretation of character. The death of Brian Foxe in Eyeless in Gaza is the culmination of a whole series of events, carefully plotted, which expose several characters all at once – the treachery of Anthony Beavis, the unscrupulousness of Mary Amberley, the physical starvation of Joan Thursley, and the extreme idealism of Brian Foxe himself. Likewise, the murder of Everard Webley is the direct expression of the negativism inherent in the character of Spandrell in Point Counter Point. Action is something taken for granted in a novel, and as such requires no extra assertion of its importance. It needs to be mentioned here only because of its diminished significance in the novel of ideas, where conversation is of greater consequence. So much of critical thought has been devoted to discussing the advantages and disadvantages of too great a use of conversation in a novel, that the role of action in Huxley’s work has been, in comparison, neglected. No doubt too much is “told”; too little is “shown”; but the consequent added importance of what is shown becomes undeniable. These words of Harold H. Watts are typical of prevalent critics on Huxley – ….what is firm in most of this fiction is the continuous polemic drive and the subordination to it of event and the delineation of persons.35 The key word here is “subordination”. The opinion of Frederick Hoffmann is not very different, but it does emphasize one point which makes it more acceptable  – that action in Huxley’s novel of ideas is in fact another way of elucidating and injecting interest into otherwise stiff characters – An idea, or large generalization about human behaviour, when it is joined to a character in a novel, is modified to become an attitude or mood. In the interests of narrative or dramatic movement this attitude or mood leads to action  – but it is always typical or characteristic action….The formal essay proves; the novel of ideas demonstrates.36 Action, in fact, does not simply enact the idea a character represents. In most cases, action becomes a necessity, for without it an idea could not have been adequately expressed. To say, for example, that Spandrell is a Nihilist, and that Nihilism implies such and such, is simply not enough. Without the tremendous impact of the murder, and his subsequent suicide, Spandrell and his Nihilism would have been incomplete; hollow on the inside, and covered with a meaningless crust of words. Again, the exploration of the cellars of the old castle by Dr. Obispo, Mr. Stoyte, and Virginia, in search of the Fifth Earl of Gonister, and finally discovering

16  Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels him to be the living example of a “foetal ape”, is an act which illustrates better than any discourse Huxley’s promise that Time is “the medium in which evil propagates itself, the element in which evil lives, and outside of which it dies”37; that – A dog’s a wolf that hasn’t fully developed. It’s more like the foetus of a wolf than an adult wolf….It’s a mild, tractable animal because it has never grown up into savagery.38 The same obviously goes for man. Perhaps that is why the baboons become more than just animals  – they are used as a motif, appearing again and again, even when they are least wanted, and may even seem superfluous, as in the early chapters of After Many a Summer. The recurrent use of baboons in the narration culminates in the last scene, where the Fifth Earl is himself turned into a baboon by Time. Granted that all such action is used as kinetic illustrations of static ideas. But Huxley’s artistry lies in the fact that he introduces action in connection with those characters who would have been incomplete without action – Mary Amberley, or Mark Staithes, or the Savage, or Spandrell, or Coleman. Characters like Propter, Philip Quarles, Mr. Scogan, or Chelifer require no demonstration for their views – they are complete in themselves, and are therefore portrayed through words alone. All novels are constituted primarily of dialogue and action, and Huxley’s is no exception. Yet, novelists also employ certain other individual means of exposing character. The means employed by Huxley, however, are not quite individual, having been used by other twentieth-­century novelists before. For instance, the beginning of Antic Hay reminds us sharply of the technique used by Joyce in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, especially the technique used in the description of the Retreat in the Third chapter. Joyce here alternates the objective sermons with the subjective reactions of Stephen, without establishing any border-­line between the two, and showing both as two facets of Stephen’s consciousness. In Antic Hay, Gumbril Jr., a schoolteacher, is sitting in the chapel during school service, thinking of the hardness of the benches, and trying to evolve a means by which people can be relieved from this discomfort. At the same time, the service goes on, only sometimes intruding into his thoughts. In the process, we have a narration of this kind – “Father, forgive them”, said Mr. Pelvey in his unvaryingly juicy voice; “for they know not what they do”. Ah, but suppose one did know what one was doing? Suppose one knew too well? And of course one always did know. One was not a fool. But this was all nonsense, all nonsense. One must think of something better than this. What a comfort it would be, for example,

Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels 17 if one could bring air cushions into chapel! These polished oaken stalls were devilishly hard; they were meant for stout and lusty pedagogues, not for bony starvelings like himself. An air cushion, a delicious pneu. “Here endeth”, boomed Mr. Pelvey, closing his book on the back of the German eagle. As if by magic, Dr. Jolly was ready at the organ with the Benedictus. It was positively a relief to stand again; this oak was adamantine. But air cushions, alas, would be too bad an example for the boys. Hardy young Spartans! It was an essential part of their education that they should listen to the word of revelation without pneumatic easement. No, air cushions wouldn’t do. The real remedy, it suddenly flashed across his mind, would be trousers with pneumatic seats. For all occasions; not merely for church-­going.39 Almost an identical technique is used at the beginning of After Many a Summer, in the description of Mr. Pordage’s drive through Los Angeles to Mr. Stoyte’s castle. The view outside is cleverly mixed with the disconnected thoughts in Pordage’s own mind. In Point Counter Point, in Walter’s walk from his own residence to Tantamount House in Chapter I, the stream-­of-­consciousness technique is used not only for the ruminations of Walter Bidlake but also for flash-­ back purposes, where we become acquainted with Walter’s mother and his childhood. In many ways, it reminds us of the Fifth chapter of Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist, where in the course of Stephen’s walk to the University, we become acquainted with his friends and co-­students at the University. In an age of widespread experimentation with language and technique, Huxley chooses the realistic method of narration. This has been one of the reasons for the disinterest that most critics have shown towards Huxley’s novels, taking it for granted that a writer must experiment in the 1920s and 1930s; and if he does not, he is not worth a second reading for his views alone. This technique-­oriented age has resulted in both novelist and critic becoming more involved in the crust rather than the kernel. Huxley was perfectly conversant with modernist methods of writing, and if he did not choose to express himself by those means, he was more concerned with his satirical and didactic purposes. As John Woodcock exclaims – “Only compare the intellectual clarity of any of his earlier novels with the manifold obscurities of Virginia Woolf, James Joyce and D.H. Lawrence!”40 What Woodcock ignores is that Huxley does use the psychological methods of expression, but uses it in combination with his normal style to heighten the effect and serve his purpose. The result is not obscurity, but total clarity.

18  Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels Character analysis in Huxley is also aided by his use of motifs, which often have a symbolic significance. This is also at par with the contemporary trends towards a more symbolic language. The use, for instance, of birds in connection with Gumbril Senior, who is probably the closest to being an epitome of honesty and integrity in the novel Antic Hay, is a very good example. A passage such as this shows how nature itself singles him out from the general rabble of bestiality and inhumanity – On fine evenings he used to sit out on his balcony waiting for the coming of the birds. And just at sunset, when the sky was most golden, there would be a twittering overhead, and the black, innumerable flocks of starlings would come sweeping across on the way from their daily haunts to their roosting-­places, chosen so capriciously among the tree-­planted squares and gardens of the city and so tenaciously retained, year after year to the exclusion of every other place. Why his fourteen plane trees should have been chosen, Mr. Gumbril could never imagine. There were plenty of larger and more umbrageous gardens all round; but they remained birdless, while every evening, from the larger flocks, a faithful legion detached itself to settle clamorously among his trees.41 Stoyte’s castle in After Many a Summer, a “nightmare on the hill-­top”, is, likewise, a telling object pointing to the fact that its owner is bent on devoting his life to violating nature – in his case, to finding the means of prolonging life indefinitely – But what a castle! The donjon was like a skyscraper, the bastions plunged headlong with the effortless swoop of concrete dams. The thing was Gothic, medieval, baronial  – doubly baronial, Gothic with a Gothicity raised, so to speak, with a higher power, more medieval than any building of the thirteenth century. For this…. this Object, as Jeremy was reduced to calling it, was medieval, not out of vulgar historical necessity, like Coucy, say, or Alnwick, but out of pure fun and wantonness, platonically, one might say. It was medieval as only a witty and irresponsible modern architect would wish to be medieval, as only the most competent modern engineers are technically equipped to be. Jeremy was startled into speech. “What on earth is that?” he asked, pointed at the nightmare on the hilltop.42 John Bidlake’s paintings, especially that of the “Bathers”, expose not only his opinions of women but his own nature as well. Counter-­pointed against Philip Quarles who is all mind and no body, John Bidlake is the embodiment of the physical, the instinctive, and the natural appetites.

Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels 19 His picture, therefore, is of eight “plump and pearly bathers” grouped in the water – Eight plump and pearly bathers grouped themselves in the water and on the banks of a stream so as to form with their moving bodies and limbs a kind of garland (completed above by the foliage of a tree) round the central point of the canvas. Through this wreath of nacreous flesh (and even their faces were just smiling flesh, not a trace of spirit to distract you from the contemplation of the lovely forms and their relations) the eye travelled on towards a pale bright landscape of softly swelling downland and clouds.43 The depiction of Bidlake’s women is too sensual to be flattering and is purposely pitted against the feminist objections to women as being shown as mindless beauties. Not that such motifs are used in character development alone. They are often used in thematic elaboration  – as the “bronze nymph by Giambologna spouting two streams of water from her deliciously polished breasts”44 in After Many a Summer – a motif which recurs often in the novel and is the epitome of the combination of the vulgar and the beautiful. Likewise, we have the Pascin hanging in Mary Amberley’s chamber, acting as a foil to the religion of the flesh carried on in that house. The thematic development, however, is not the point here, though it is linked with the delineation of character. Apart from motifs, Huxley also introduces certain incidents that come closest to what Joyce calls “Epiphany” – literally, a sudden realization, a split-­second understanding of the truth. Joyce’s best formal definition of “epiphany” occurs in Stephen Hero, where Stephen, idly composing his Villanelle of the Temptress, defines it as such – By an epiphany he meant a sudden spiritual manifestation, whether in the vulgarity of speech or gesture or in a memorable phase of the mind itself. He believed that it was for the man of letters to record these epiphanies with extreme care, seeing that they themselves are the most delicate and evanescent of moments.45 A realization such as this is never based on logical processes; it is always instinctive. When Huxley, therefore, uses epiphany, he uses it in connection with characters whose instinctive side is finely sharpened; characters who are not, in Philip Quarles’s words, “congenitally incapable of living wholly and harmoniously”. Since Huxley’s personae are usually portrayed with one-­sided personalities, such people are hard to find. A Philip Quarles can never have sudden realizations, because his brain is as logical as a calculator. Nor can a Mr. Propter or a Dr. Miller, because they are the spiritual gurus, who have already realized the facts of life.

20  Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels Certain personalities, however, all the better expressed because of these epiphany-­like incidents – characters who have rounded edges, and who can both think and feel. A very good instance occurs in Eyeless in Gaza, where, when Anthony and Helen are making love on the terrace, a dog falls from an aeroplane, and is dashed to pieces almost on top of them, splattering them with blood from head to foot. Almost at once a change comes over Helen, and sobbing uncontrollably, she leaves Anthony never to return. A more detailed analysis of this incident will be made in Chapter III. Another example would be the visit to the sick gardener, Wetherington, by Walter Bidlake in Point Counter Point. As a child, visiting the sick man with his mother, it was his first acquaintance with disease and poverty, and he remembers it as a contrast to joy, beauty, and health, realizing the value of these qualities, so much so that nothing would ever teach him in like manner again. After dialogue, the most important means of character delineation in Huxley is his use of irony. Irony is an extremely potent instrument, not only for outlining character but also for satirical purposes. Often the two ends are tied together, character-­study and satire being combined through ironical means. We have, for example, the portrait of Burlap and his “Sodoma smile” in Point Counter Point. The hypocritical air of innocence that he wears is perpetually treated with a tongue-­in-­cheek attitude in the novel. Another such figure is Virginia in After Many a Summer, whose devout faith in the Virgin Mary contrasts directly with her indulgence in physical pleasure. Indeed, Virginia herself is a bit of a contrast, for even while she is led to indulge in sexual activities, she hates the man with whom she forges this pleasure. Together with this is her air of childish innocence; so much so that her patron Mr. Stoyte nicknames her “Baby”. Such irony through contrast is also evident in certain characters trying to be what they are not. In Antic Hay, Gumbril Junior poses as the Complete Man, while Rosie, wife of Shearwater, pretends to be a capricious lady almost simultaneously. It is all simple humour until we realize that the Complete Man is only an epitome of the prototype of Satan – Coleman – who is hell-­bent on making the world uglier than it already is. And Rosie’s fastidious lady is the mindless, useless, soulless lady of the upper-­class society of Huxley’s world, where her sole aim in life is to pursue physical pleasure. There is deep pathos in this irony – that even basically sensitive, well-­meaning, simple people like Gumbril and Rosie fall into the trap of meaningless appearances that contemporary society offers, and call it their ideal. It is almost the same with Elinor in Point Counter Point, though her intentions are different, and her fortunes are tragic. A pathetic example is Mrs. Aldwinkle in Those Barren Leaves. Here is the greatest irony of all  – an ageing woman with sagging muscles, fading complexion, and crow’s feet round her eyes, unable to come to terms with age, trying her best to retain

Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels 21 youth through make-­up, and bringing in young man after young man in an attempt to reclaim the romanticism of her lost days. Irony is the mainstay of Huxley’s works, their unifying factor, and almost a philosophy on the part of the writer. It is the means by which endless dialogues are made interesting, and seemingly meaningless incidents are clothed with meaning. Characters such as Sidney Quarles and Gladys, for example, would have been redundant without their role in the expression of the total picture of a decadent society. Ironic contrasts of character and incident are the base of Huxley’s novel of ideas, which would have been a mere conglomeration of points of view, had it not been for the underlying irony providing the novels with the required unifying interpretation and outlook. It is this method that asserts the author’s point of view among the chaos of numerous ideas projected by the characters, moulding them into a whole, unified interpretation of a social set-­up. Allan Pryce-­Jones draws attention to the “conversational air” of the nineteen-­twenties, and its eagerness to approximate “all art to conversation”.46 Of the same line of thought is V.S. Pritchett, who regards the twenties as a time of talk, reliance on personal judgement, and the pursuit of conversation not only for enquiry and discussion but also for its own sake. Huxley’s particular brand of the “discussion novel” or the novel of ideas is not outside the environment in which he devises it. One must mention, of course, that the term, “novel of ideas” is itself a contradiction because it is quite impossible to imagine a novel without ideas. In this sense all novels must be novels of ideas. The distinction that one draws between Huxley’s type and the type we find in – for example – Conrad’s Lord Jim or Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist, or Hardy’s The Mayor of Casterbridge, is structural and thematic. We may call a novel one “of character” or one “of action”, but the central core of ideas remains. In a novel of ideas, the difference is made because each character represents a particular point of view and expresses that view primarily through the medium of conversation. About the same time that Huxley was working on his novels, Percy Lubbock was asserting in The Craft of Fiction that “the art of fiction does not begin until the novelist thinks of his story as a matter to be shown, to be so exhibited that it will tell itself”.47 In the age of Joyce and James and Hemmingway such an opinion was quite relevant, and this was echoed by many of the foremost writers of the time. In fact, “telling” was for a time considered to be the mark of an inferior writer, and people like Joseph Warren Beach pointedly remarked – Authors like Thackeray or Balzac, say, or H.G. Wells…are always telling the reader what happened instead of showing them the scene, telling them what to think of the characters, rather than letting the reader judge for himself or letting the characters do the telling about one another….48

22  Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels Only much later, in the eighties, did writers like Wayne Booth become aware of the virtues of what he calls “rational commentary” in a novel and realize the necessity of “telling” in comic fiction – In much of great comic fiction, for example, our amusement depends on the author’s telling us in advance that the characters’ troubles are temporary and their concern ridiculously exaggerated. Anyone who doubts the value of this kind of rhetoric should imagine himself trying to narrate Tom Jones without the author’s voice to remind his readers that things are not so bad for Tom as they look…. 49 – He takes a far more rational point of view, without exposing a partiality for any of the two modes of narration – Since men do have strong intellectual, qualitative, and practical interests, there is no reason why great novels cannot be written relying primarily on any one kind. But it is clear that no great work is based on only one interest. Whenever a work tends towards an exclusive reliance on intellectual interests, on the contemplation of qualities, or on practical desires we all look for adjectives to whip the offender with; a mere “novel of ideas”, a mere “dessicated form”, a mere “tear-­jerker” will offend all but the small handful of critics and authors who are momentarily absorbed in pushing one interest to the limit. But it is a rare critic who can distinguish the novels that are really marred by narrowness from those “narrow” novels which, like Jane Austen’s, develop a wide range of interests within a narrow social setting.50 David Daiches, in the sixties, also distinguishes between “intellectual fallacy” and “sentimental fallacy”, but he explicitly denies that works committing either fallacy are necessarily inferior. It is a sign of Huxley’s individuality that in such an age he chose the novel of ideas as his medium in which he does precisely that which contemporary writers criticized. The “telling”, however, is not done by the author alone in the character of the narrator. Each character, as the representative of a single point of view, “tells” of his opinions to the others, who hold different points of view. The author’s viewpoint is, of course, ever-­present, usually in the form of a particular character – like Quarles in Point Counter Point or Propter in After Many a Summer – which Bakhtin had referred to as the “authorial voice”. Such “telling” in the age of Freud and Jung and Bergson and the psychological novel is indeed remarkable, and this actually serves to emphasize the fact that Huxley had a special purpose behind his writing. The tenet “Art for Art’s Sake” is in the twenties rather like the authorial presence – better implied than explicitly upheld. “Art With a Purpose” was

Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels 23 considered to be a contradiction in terms, just as the explicit presence of the author was casually labelled “inartistic”. Eliot says in Tradition and the Individual Talent – …the poet has, not a ‘personality’ to express, but a particular medium, which is only a medium and not a personality, in which impressions and experiences combine in peculiar and unexpected ways. Impressions and experiences which are important for the man may take no place in the poetry, and those which became important in the poetry may take quite a negligible part in the man, the personality. And again – Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. In other words, the personality  – made up of the opinions and viewpoints of the author – is best left out of the work of art. The question of authorial objectivity, however, in spite of its universal acceptability in the twenties, is a question which has, logically enough, met with a healthy debate from the end of the thirties. Among many who have discussed this question, the opinions of Mikhail Bakhtin have been the most influential till date. Bakhtin interprets the novel as a dialogic interaction of multiple “voices”, each of which has a definite mode of discourse, dependent on the social and cultural background of the character. Over and above these multiple “voices” is the voice of the author – the “authorial voice”, which is either superimposed on the other varied voices, or is itself drowned by them. Thus we have the two types of narratives – the “monologic”, of which Bakhtin identifies Tolstoy as the representative artist, and the “dialogic” of which he names Dostoevsky as the ideal. In the former, the authorial voice tends to subordinate the other voices in the narrative and directs the reader’s opinion in its own line of thought. The latter, in Bakhtin’s words, have a “plularity of independent and unmerged voices and consciousnesses, a genuine polyphony of fully valid voices”51 – that is, the voices are independent of the authorial voice, and the reader is allowed to form his own opinion independently. Of course, Bakhtin does maintain that in a novel the authorial voice cannot be totally expunged, even in the most objective of writings – it can at best be buried below the surface. The author talks not just in his own voice, but also in the voices of his characters. In A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man Joyce makes every attempt to “refine [himself] out of existence”52 . Yet, when he remarks later – “I haven’t let this young man off very lightly, have I?” – that itself shows an undercurrent of authorial comment working beneath, directing the manner in which

24  Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels he will “show” the young man. This is what Wayne Booth calls “the author’s many voices”. In fact, it is quite true that an episode “told” by Fielding or H.G. Wells can be more fully realized than many scenes painstakingly “shown” by many of the budding psychologists of the age. As such, in any comment on Huxley, the point should not be whether he has sacrificed “art” in “telling” more than “showing”; the point should be whether what he has “told” is artistically realized or not.

Notes 1 M.H. Abrams, A Glossary of Literary Terms, Sixth Edition, (Bangalore, Prism Books), p. 231. 2 E.M. Forster, Aspects of the Novel (London, Penguin Books, 1974), p. 73. 3 Ibid, p. 74. 4 Ibid, p. 81. 5 Francis Bacon, The Advancement of Learning (quoted in A Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory by J.A. Cuddon, London, Penguin, 1977, p. 136). 6 Sir Walter Raleigh, History of the World (quoted as above). 7 Factual information compiled from Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory by J.A. Cuddon (London, Penguin, 1992). 8 Aldous Huxley, Ends and Means (London, Chatto & Windus, 1957), pp. 269–270. 9 Aldous Huxley, Do What You Will (London, Chatto & Windus, 1957) 10 Aldous Huxley, Point Counter Point (London, Flamingo Modern Classics, 1994), p. 319. 11 Aldous Huxley, Ape and Essence (N.Y., Bantam Modern Classics, 1968), p. 1. 12 Aldous Huxley, Music at Night (London, Chatto & Windus, 1949), pp. 178–181. 13 Ibid, p. 334. 14 Ibid, p. 332. 15 Ibid, p. 107. 16 Aldous Huxley, “A Wordsworth Anthology”, On the Margin (London, Chatto & Windus, 1956). 17 Aldous Huxley, “Those Personal Touches”, Music at Night (London, Chatto & Windus, 1949). 18 Aldous Huxley, On the Margin, p. 81. 19 Aldous Huxley, Point Counter Point, pp. 297–298. 20 Aldous Huxley, Point Counter Point, pp. 297–298. 21 Aldous Huxley, Point Counter Point, pp. 297–298. 22 George Woodcock, Dawn and the Darkest Hour (London, Faber and Faber, 1972), p. 62. 23 Huxley, Point Counter Point, p. 297. 24 Ibid, p. 95. 25 Ibid, pp. 33–34. 26 Ibid, p. 43. 27 Ibid, p. 50. 28 Ibid, p. 207. 29 Ibid, p. 295. 30 Ibid, p. 77. 31 Huxley, On the Margin, p.191. 32 Ibid, p. 185.

Character-­building in Huxley’s Novels 25

33 Ibid, p. 202. 34 Harold H. Watts, Aldous Huxley (Boston, Twayne Publishers, 1969) p. 35. 35 Ibid. 36 Frederick J. Hoffmann, Aldous Huxley and the Novel of Ideas – published in Aldous Huxley, A Collection of Critical Essays, ed Robert E. Kuehn (Englewood Cliffs; N.J., Prentice Hall Inc.,1974). 37 Aldous Huxley, After Many a Summer (Middlesex, Penguin Books, 1955), p. 88. 38 Ibid, p. 85. 39 Aldous Huxley, Antic Hay (Middlesex, Penguin Books, 1955), p. 10. 40 John Woodcock, Dawn and the Darkest Hour, p. 15. 41 Huxley, Antic Hay, p. 18. 42 Huxley, After Many a Summer, p. 19. 43 Huxley, Point Counter Point, p. 44. 44 Huxley, After Many a Summer p. 74. 45 James Joyce, Stephen Hero (London, Grafton, 1989), Chap. XXV, p. 188. 46 Alan Pryce-­Jones, Prose Literature 1945-­1950 (published for the British Council by London, Longmans, Green & Co., 1951), Introduction. 47 Percy Lubbock, The Craft of Fiction (London, Jonathan Cape, 1921), p. 62. 48 Joseph Warren Beach, The Twentieth-­C entury Novel: Studies in Technique. 49 Wayne Booth, The Rhetoric of Fiction (London, Penguin Books, 1991), p. 175. 50 Ibid, p. 133. 51 Mikhail Bakhtin, Discourse in the Novel (quoted in A Glossary of Literary Terms, ed. M.H. Abrams, Sixth Edition, (Bangalore, Prism Books), p. 231. 52 Joyce, James, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (Middlesex, Penguin Books, 1960), p. 215.

2

Point Counter Point

We must return once again to the “philosophy of meaninglessness” which Huxley realized was at the root of early twentieth-­century civilization. Meaninglessness becomes reflected in the characters and lifestyles of the people of the post-­World War II period, and it is this which worried Huxley so greatly in both his life and writing. Since it is the middle class which is educated enough to ponder about any meaning whatever, it is this class which most becomes the thrust of Huxley’s reflections. The experience of meaninglessness is, however, the most acute in the upper classes, even though they ponder much less, and this class too, therefore, comes within the writer’s purview. Point Counter Point (1928) is the novel in which this philosophy of meaninglessness finds its most lucid expression. In the novels before this, the attitude of the author was casual, off-­hand, witty, satirical, and tongue-­in-­cheek. When meaninglessness is shown in Antic Hay, it is viewed from the angle of farce and comedy. When Gumbril Junior poses as the Complete Man, he ends up being mistaken for the epitome of diabolism, Coleman. It is meaningless in the present times to be natural and simplistic, but what a farce it is to be what one is not! The same goes for Myra Viveash’s style of meaningless living, and so for Shearwater’s bicycle riding, which takes him nowhere. In Crome Yellow – the one novel of Huxley which sticks faithfully to the Peacockian format of people getting together in one place and talking  – all the endless discussions bring one right back to where one began. But everything is kept on the plane of light-­ heartedness, Huxley being contented with depicting a tongue-­in-­cheek picture of social relationships. It is meaningless too in Those Barren Leaves, when Mrs. Aldwinkle is unable to come to terms with age; when Calamy dabbles with love but realizes that it cannot provide any consolation for the emptiness of spirit; when Mr. Cardan marries a mentally retarded girl for her money, but finally comes to realize that “the flesh dies and putrefies; and the spirit presumably putrefies too. And there’s an end of your omphlaloskepsis, with all its by-­products”.1 But nothing which comes before Point Counter Point can compare with it in the stark, hard picture of meaninglessness that it ruthlessly DOI: 10.4324/9781003276388-2

Point Counter Point 27 provides. Gone now is the superficial casualness which marked the earlier novels. We now have a deep realism which will be the hallmark of his later writings. The satire now travels not on the peripheral borders of upper-­class society; it goes deep down into the hearts and spirits of the people. Nothing really matters any more. Lady Tantamount’s parties actually exercise in superficial gaiety, which is pricked the moment an Illidge or a Lord Tantamount appears on the scene like ghosts of reality. In fact, all the people who have come to enjoy themselves there are not what they seem. Everard Webley, the Fascist, strongly dislikes Lady Edward; Illidge, not so materially fortunate as the partying public, pretends to be spiritually superior, while actually he feels very much inferior indeed; General Knoyle is in a mist of confusion at Lady Tantamount’s wit; and Lord Edward’s outward title and wealth is only an eyewash for the fact of his being “a fossil-­boy preserved in the frame of a very large, middle-­aged man”. 2 Just as hollow is the hedonism of Lucy Tantamount, who finds pleasure in being raped, and who falls into the arms of an unknown foreigner the moment she tires of the men back at home. Spandrell becomes a Nihilist in his attempt at meaningfulness, and he and Illidge manage to murder Webley for no other reason than a passing whim. There is no meaning in the string of deaths that mark the ending of this novel; nobody dies to fulfil any cause; nobody lives to find any causality in the scheme of things. The list is endless, and indeed, the whole novel and its people are built on this social and spiritual meaninglessness marking the whole of the second decade of the twentieth century. What exactly is this “philosophy of meaninglessness” which Huxley strives so carefully to reflect through his characters? A more or less detailed clarification is given in the essay entitled “Beliefs” in Ends and Means – For myself, as no doubt, for most of my contemporaries, the philosophy of meaninglessness was essentially an instrument of liberation. The liberation we desired was simultaneously liberation from a certain political and economic system and liberation from a certain system of morality…. The early nineteenth century witnessed a reaction toward meaningful philosophy of a kind that could, unhappily, be used to justify political reaction. The men of the new Enlightenment, which occurred in the middle years of the nineteenth century once again used meaninglessness as a weapon against the reactionaries….By the end of the twenties a reaction had begun to set in  – away from the easy-­going philosophy of general meaninglessness towards the hard, ferocious theologies of nationalistic and revolutionary idolatry. Meaning was reintroduced into the world, but only in patches. The universe as a whole still remained meaningless, but certain of its parts, such as the nation, the state,

28  Point Counter Point the class, the party, were endowed with significance and the highest value. The general acceptance of a doctrine that denies meaning and value to the world as a whole, while assigning them in a supreme degree to certain arbitrarily selected parts of the totality, can have only evil and selected results. “All that we are (and consequently, all that we do) is the result of what we have thought”. We have thought of ourselves as members of supremely meaningful and valuable communities  – deified nations, divine classes, and what not  – existing within a meaningless universe.3 Thus, the meaningfulness of individual actions and pursuits is countered by the meaninglessness of the entire universe. The lack of a viable philosophy of life is the more apparent in the inadequacy of particular doctrines of established religions like Christianity, which fail totally in providing the “meaning of the world”. Thus, Burlap with his pseudo-­ saintliness and his “Sodoma smile” is an ironic representation of hollow religiosity. On the other extreme is the rejection of religion, which is to assert the philosophy of meaninglessness in its most stark and naked form. Art and Science provide an illusion of meaning because of the basic delight in pursuing truth and beauty. But Huxley refuses to believe that they can provide a meaning to the Universe, because “artistic creation and scientific research may be, and constantly are, used as devices for escaping from the realities of life”.4 As such, the necessity of seeking “an alternative philosophy that shall be true and therefore fruitful of good”5 is increasingly felt in the modern world. It is to this end that Huxley, in the general atmosphere of meaninglessness in the novels, attempts to incorporate at least one person who directs his powers to the search of such a meaningful philosophy. Thus we have a Mr. Scogan, a Gumbril Senior, or Rampion himself. In the later novels, this search is crystallized into a discovery of the meaning of life by characters like Dr. Miller or Mr. Propter. The very fact that there are people who set out in an endless search for meaning shows that the world is not entirely devoid of this elusive quality. It is not Huxley’s sole aim to point out the meaninglessness of existence; it is also his purpose to show that meaning exists for those who trouble to forget selfish interests and search for it. Thus we come to Rampion – the yardstick by which we judge the monstrosities around him; the centre of meaningfulness is an endless revolution of emptiness. In depicting a character who epitomizes such a centre, we will pinpoint Rampion, since his predecessors are inadequate, while his successors are stagnant. Mr. Scogan questions without finding any answers. Mr. Gumbril Senior escapes into a world of art, finding solace in communing with nature, but reaches no general conclusions about discovering the meaning of existence. Indeed, he is happy, but only individually so. Later, Mr. Propter or Dr. Miller leads a full life, no doubt,

Point Counter Point 29 especially based on the oriental theory of karma; but they have reached a point in which they have no more heights to conquer. As such, while leading an essentially individual life, they attempt to impart their knowledge to whosoever may be interested in it. So Rampion it must be, because he is the fittest study of this kind of Huxleyan character. He is the one who is sketched along the line which is the most acceptable – a character who asks questions, juggles with possible solutions, but is always reaching out to the infinite – an infinite which is, however, not to be attained for its own sake, but through the faults and foibles of humanity. Mark Rampion is one of those characters in Point Counter Point who is almost totally moulded on talk. Either he is engaged in animated conversation or he is discoursing on subjects closest to his heart, but all through the novel we see him doing very little. The only time he does anything is in that one chapter (Chapter IX) in which Mary, his wife, reminisces about their past, in which they met, fell in love, and got married. In fact, the necessity of this chapter in the context of the novel is genuinely under question, for, apart from painting a picture of a “made for each other couple”, it has very little real value. Rampion first appears in the eighth chapter, and from the onset, his role is that of a measuring scale by which all the other characters are measured. That is why he is the one who, by tacit agreement, has the right to comment on the others around him. Spandrell, he thinks, is “unwholesome”, stewing in his “disgusting, suppurating juice”; yet one who is “a silly schoolboy, too, and a “permanent adolescent”.6 About Lucy and Walter, he says – ….that woman’s worse. She gives me the creeps. That poor, silly little Bidlake boy. Like a rabbit in front of a weasel.7 Burlap, by common consent of Mary and himself, is “a parasite that feeds on living hosts….A spiritual leech”.8 And then the opinion which caps them all – And to think that the world’s full of these creatures! ….All perverted in the same way – by trying to be non-­human….Perverted towards goodness or badness, towards spirit or flesh, but always away from the central norm, always away from humanity. The world’s an asylum of perverts. There are four of them at the table now.9 He identifies the four. Burlap is “a pure little Jesus-­ pervert”; Philip Quarles “an intellectual-­aesthetic pervert; Spandrell a foolish pervert – “a little Stavrogin”; and last of all, he himself – A pedagogue-­ pervert. A Jeremiah pervert. A worry-­ about-­ the-­ bloody-­old-­world pervert. Above all, a gibber-­pervert.10

30  Point Counter Point The fact that Rampion can worry about the bloody old world and still be magnanimous enough to criticize himself is a point in his favour, no doubt, but it is also true that he is adversely criticized by himself alone and by nobody else. He can pull up everyone else in the novel, usually directly, and comment on their drawbacks and weaknesses, but never once do we have anyone who will do the same to him. This actually emphasizes that he is the one person in the novel who can be used as the standard by which all the others can be judged. Rampion’s role is not limited to showing the defects of individuals. These individuals in the scheme of things, are set against the background not only of modern civilization, but of civilization as a whole. That is why it is he with the broadest vision of all in the novel, who can comment on sociology and politics and history, and expect all other opinions to fall in with his own. Politics and different political systems are only different ways of going to hell  – “The destination is the same in every case. They’re all of them bound for hell, all headed for the same psychological impasse, and the social collapse that results from psychological collapse”.11 Indeed to Rampion, psychological health is more of a necessity than the social, for the latter presupposes the former. This may be an overt reference to the psychological instability of the twenties, which was the primary cause of the social denigration of that period; but Rampion sketches it as the basis of his political theory. The person to whom he discourses about this theory is a man as intelligent as himself – Philip Quarles – but even he can protest but little in the face of the relentless facts, and agrees with Rampion more often than not. Indeed, there is a strong suspicion that Quarles is used merely as a dummy for Rampion on which to air his views. The importance he gives to psychological health makes him unique where political theories are concerned. For most such theories advocate a particular system and make the individual subject to it. In the Rampion (Lawrentian) doctrine, the individual is made responsible for the kind of society that emerges. So, just as Socialism and Bolshevism are rejected, so Capitalism too is shown to be unfit for the health of the individual mind – Industrial progress means over-­ production, means the need for getting new markets, means international rivalry, means war. And mechanical progress means more specialization and standardization of work, means more ready-­made and unindividual amusements, means diminution of initiative and creativeness, means more intellectualism and progressive atrophy of all the vital and fundamental things in human nature….12 Ultimately he spells out his doctrine – “that the root of the evil is in individual psychology; so its there, in the individual psychology that you’d have to begin”.

Point Counter Point 31 Rampion’s political recipe matches his recipe for the individual. Indeed, there is not a single part of his total philosophy of life, which can stand alone  – it is inextricably linked with his total scheme of things. That is why he is different from the rest of the characters in Point Counter Point. They are all “monsters” (as Quarles calls them), or “perverts” (as Rampion believes), because they are all one-­sided – that is, they develop one side of their personalities at the cost of the total disintegration of the others. Rampion isolates certain people as illustrations of this idea. Religion, he believes, like science, is a big factor working towards this kind of monstrosity  – “The Christians who weren’t sane, told people that they’d got to throw half of themselves in the waste-­paper basket. And now the scientists and businessmen come and tell us that we must throw away half of what the Christians left us”.13 All religion, from the phallism of ancient times to modern Christianity is basically the same – Christianity, he says, is just phallism “turned inside out”. Phallists worshipped with the body, Christians reject the physical, and aspire to total spirituality. What Rampion cannot stand is this spiritualization of reality. That is why he inveighs against Shelley’s spiritualism, which is the “awful incapacity to call a spade a spade…Just pretending, just lying”.14 What the spiritualists, including Christians, therefore manage to do is to kill one-­half of a person’s psyche. On the other extreme are the scientists and intellectuals, who play with the knowledge to amuse themselves. The whole of the present-­day industrial civilization is a “systematically organized professional intellectualism”. He very pertinently identifies Philip Quarles as the representative of this class. These intellectuals ultimately do nothing for humanity, rather, “with their quantum theory, wave mechanics, relativity, and all the rest of it, they do really seem to have got a little way outside humanity”.15 The consequence is to reduce human beings to “absolute imbecility and absolute subservience to their machines”. It is a non-­human truth that they are trying to get at, and this distracts the minds of the people from the real truth, the denial of which is akin to suicide – “A man can’t abolish his sensations and feelings completely without physically killing himself”. The marginalization of human consciousness  – that is what Rampion is speaking against – Christians and moralists and cultural aesthetes, and bright young scientists and Smilesian businessmen  – all the poor little human frogs trying to blow themselves up into bulls of pure efficiency, pure conscious intelligence, and just going pop, ceasing to be anything but the fragments of a little frog – decaying fragments at that. The whole thing’s a huge stupidity, a huge, disgusting lie.16 This is an explicit rejection of the philosophy of meaninglessness. The harmonious fusion of all the faculties of man is what Rampion aspires

32  Point Counter Point to, and he is the only one in the novel who comes closest to attaining it. Theory and practice are not two different aqueducts of his life – the one fulfils the other. The problem with this character, however, is that he is sketched through the novel of ideas, and consequently we have an easy access to his theories, and very little to his practice. As mentioned already, he is almost entirely built on talk, and just as it is a monologic discourse on his part which clarifies his theories, it is the dialogue on the part of the other characters which tells us of his practice. Percy Lubbock had felt that “the art of fiction does not begin until the novelist thinks of his story as a matter to be shown, to be so exhibited that it will tell itself”.17 However, Wayne Booth had justly questioned this grossly prejudiced view – “Why is it that an episode ‘told’ by Fielding can strike us as more fully realized than many of the scenes scrupulously ‘shown’ by imitators of James or Hemmingway?”18  – and asserted that artifice is “unmistakeably present” in whatever way an author chooses to “obtain a reliable view of a character’s mind and heart”.19 As such, a remark on Huxley’s choosing to “tell” rather than “show” is a comment on method, not quality. Instead of being shown Rampion’s actions, and how he illustrates his theories through them, we are told of his way of life. For instance, the lack of interest of the Rampions in common luxuries, and their sparse manner of living is told to us indignantly by Burlap, who believes, characteristically, that they “hoard up” plenty by this process – Not only does Rampion pay no rent, he has hardly any expenses. Living as they do with only one servant, doing most of the housework themselves, having no car, they really must spend ridiculously little. True, they have two children to educate….What does he do with all his money?20 Most of the time the comments are direct, usually unsupported by any concrete evidence about Rampion’s lifestyle. Spandrell, who is at odds with life itself, whose driving instinct is to destroy the world he hates, and which hates him; and who is himself disliked and criticized by the Rampions, has nothing but positive feelings for this couple – Smiling with a pleasure which he would have found it hard to explain, he looked from one to the other  – from the thin, fierce, indomitable little man, to the big, golden woman. Each separately was good; but together, as a couple, they were better still. Without realizing it, he had quite suddenly begun to feel happy. 21 The very fact that Spandrell, of all the characters, feels a genuine pleasure, is itself a point in favour of the Rampions, since they are the source of this pleasure.

Point Counter Point 33 Philip Quarles is the “intellectual-­ aesthetic pervert” in Rampion’s opinion. Yet, in his logical, intellectual mind, he realizes that he has a lot yet to learn from Mark Rampion. Even while in India, he thinks of Rampion with a genuine admiration – Mark Rampion’s right. In practice, too, which makes it so much more impressive. In his art and his living, as well as in his theories.22 Later, in his notebook, which he fills up partly with the opinions of Rampion as he hears them, he concedes that, unlike himself, Rampion is a much more complete human being. His admiration and respect for that one man is expressed candidly – But two things give me confidence in his opinions about the problems of living. The first is that he himself lives in a more satisfactory way than anyone I know. He lives more satisfactorily, because he lives more realistically than other people. Rampion, it seems to me, takes into account all the facts (whereas other people hide from them, or try to pretend that the ones they find unpleasant don’t or shouldn’t exist), and then proceeds to make his way of living fit the facts, and doesn’t try to compel the facts to fit in with a preconceived idea of the right way of living (like these imbecile Christians and intellectuals and moralists and efficient businessmen). The second thing which gives me confidence in his judgement is that so many of his opinions agree with mine, which, apart from all questions of vanity, is a good sign….The chief difference between us, alas, is that his opinions are lived, and mine, in the main, are only thought. 23 Even the despicable Burlap values and admires Rampion’s work and ideas to the extent of pursuing him for them, and using them to boost the sales of The World. It is no doubt true that Rampion’s character is visualized by dialogue or individual discourse – either his own, or of the other characters. But Huxley does not “tell” all – he “shows” some, too. In Rampion’s case, there are two instances of “showing” – both of which are very deliberate on the author’s part. The first consists of Rampion’s love of drawing – that is, using visualization to express what he satisfactorily cannot in his writings. In fact, in the course of the novel we see him tilting more towards painting than towards writing, because, as he himself says – That’s why I’ve almost given up writing for the moment. Writing’s not much good for saying what I find I want to say now. And what a comfort to escape from words! Words, words, words, they shut one off from the universe. Three-­quarters of the time one’s never

34  Point Counter Point in contact with things, only with the beastly words that stand for them….Oh these words! I’m thankful to have escaped from them. 24 There is intense irony in the fact that Huxley should so celebrate Rampion’s escape from words when all his life he himself has done everything to worship them. Rampion’s paintings shown in the novel, are primarily symbolical and realistic – “The more shocking….the better”. Many of his paintings are described in detail, and each of them illustrates those very ideas which he tirelessly explains in the novels. He has an aversion for Cubist painting – And the whole thing painted in the Cubist manner, so as to make quite sure that there should be no life in it whatever25 – – or for idealism of any kind. He himself is veritably scintillating with life, and wishes everyone in the world to be like him. His very critique of life shows that he has hopes of reclaiming its essence by criticizing it. His paintings mark this aspiration for instance, there is that painting which Rampion calls Love – a painting which Burlap admires but hates because “it happens to be true”. The painting depicts a naked couple embracing, and a radiant light emanating from this embrace, lighting up an astoundingly rich natural vegetation around them. Rampion, however, cannot stop at showing the painting; he must explain it as well – “Love, physical love, as the source of light and life and beauty”. This is one of his favourite subjects, of course, as he will never sacrifice the flesh to the soul, but rather speaks of them as reciprocating each other. This goes directly against the religious preaching of the rejection of the body and “carnal” passions, and allowing the soul to develop its own spirituality, which would otherwise be hampered by the body. This rejection of established conventional thought for a more rational, critical, and hence more realistic viewpoint is again to be seen in the two paintings named Outlines of History, which are juxtaposed with each other. The first shows history “according to H.G. Wells”, which is a history of man beginning from the monkey to the future man. Each successive stage in man’s evolution is larger and clearer than the former, until the men of the future are dominating and bright, thus epitomizing the progress of civilization to a greater future. The second painting shows history according to Rampion himself, in which history is a constant decline of man, till the Victorians become dwarfish, misshapen human beings, while the twentieth-­century successors are “abortions”. The future is even less enthusing, for man has been reduced to “little gargoyles and foetuses”. This picture, of course, shows what Rampion is always talking about  – the regression of man’s society through the centuries in the face of too much civilization, too much de-­naturalization, and too much mechanization. Man, in the process, will only end up destroying

Point Counter Point 35 himself. The basic lop-­sidedness of man, his inadequacy, is illustrated in yet another picture depicting “human monsters, huge-­headed creatures, without limbs or bodies”, with the faces of well-­known personalities like Bernard Shaw, Sir Alfred Mond, and John D. Rockfeller among others, who are “creeping slug-­like”26 behind a long procession of dinosaurs. Here, as Rampion explains, man is shown to be no better than one-­sided dinosaurs. The dinosaurs died because they had “too much body and too little head”. Man will die because of having too great a mental size – “sacrificing physical life and affective life to mental life”. Rampion, however, is not a pessimist, as his paintings may lead one to believe. It is only that he believes that criticism may serve to bring about some sense in the madness of present-­day civilization. This essential positive core in Rampion is expressed in another of his paintings, in which a woman suckling a child, a bare-­backed man playing with leopard cubs, and a boy are set in close proximity with a cow which fills the upper part of the picture. It shows the “living quality” of the flesh and the “living relationship” that the human beings have with each other and the natural world. It is this natural relationship that Rampion seeks to re-­establish. It must be reiterated that painting is for Rampion only another means of discourse, a way of speaking with greater clarity what he tries to establish in words. In most cases, the two kinds of discourse supplement each other, because rather than allowing the paintings to speak for themselves, he clarifies them with verbal explanations whenever he gets the chance. The effect he tries to attain is audio-­visual, each element making up for the gaps in the other. The other instance in which Huxley attempts to “show” anything about Rampion  – if that can be called “showing”  – is the chapter (Chapter IX) in which he describes the past life of the Rampion couple – how they came together, and what makes them suit each other so well. This chapter, of course, can also be seen as another instance of “telling” because it is totally suffused with the author’s positive feelings towards the Rampions, and the reader’s opinions are manipulated to the same end. But for once Rampion is at least shown to do something, apart from continuously exercising his vocal cords in inveighing against modern civilization. In Mary he finds the true counterpart to his beliefs; the living means of his own perfection. Man remains incomplete himself because of his tilt towards the intellect. Woman is his emotional counterpart, providing him with that quality which he lacks. Man often is in the danger of over-­i ntellectualization, and therefore mechanization of his environment. Woman provides the emotional substitute, whereby she brings about a balance in his lop-­sided attitude to things. This is a favourite theme of Huxley, and in Point Counter Point itself we have two couples illustrating this opinion. Apart from the Rampions, there are also Elinor and Philip

36  Point Counter Point Quarles, who are even more built on this emotional-­intellectual pattern than the Rampions. Elinor is totally emotional, while Quarles is made up of nothing but intellect; and indeed, they deserve a more detailed treatment, which will later be given. The Rampions, however, are not so sharply drawn, because Rampion has a good dose of emotionalism in his system, while his wife is intellectual enough to balance him. This is probably why they make a more perfect combination than Elinor and Quarles. Elinor is always talking of leaving her husband and having an affair of her own, even though she cannot make herself do this because she loves him too much. But this perpetual sense of unfulfillment is not there in the case of the Rampions, because each has a sufficient proportion of the opposite quality to bring about physical and emotional perfection. This union is not forced – it emerges as naturally as anything in nature, even though Mark and Mary ostensibly have features which could have been insurmountable barriers in their relationship. Of these features, the primary one is the fact that Mary is born an aristocrat and Mark a peasant. Mark’s intellect, his revolutionary ideas, his realism, his strength of character  – these are the qualities which attract Mary. It could have been any fairy-­tale story, with the princess, after rejecting offers from several princes (the military friend, for one) chooses the poor but honest youth (Rampion himself). It is prevented from being such a tale by the underlying interpretations provided by Huxley below the surface. This marriage between Mark and Mary is usually interpreted as a rejection of aristocracy for the more natural, throbbing life of the people who have to work for their living. Huxley has taken pains to show the basic hollowness and imbecility of aristocratic life, and Mary’s growing contempt for her family is given enough attention – She looked from one to the other without speaking and walked away. What louts they were! * I’d like to know more of your sort of people”, she said, “genuine people, people without air cushions. * I suppose you find us all very stupid, don’t you?….Because, you know, we are stupid. Terribly stupid. 27 But this interpretation, however, much it may be corroborated by the text, is, I believe, not quite on target. It would be better to believe that the author wished to portray a harmonious mixture of opposites, and also the fact that a plebeian and an aristocrat can come together and

Point Counter Point 37 enrich each other by their different backgrounds; that such a mixture of contrasts is exactly what is needed to enable any kind of progress to take place in the human consciousness; that if Mark and Mary had been from the same background, there would not have been the new horizons that each experiences through marriage. Moreover, the importance of money cannot be totally ruled out either. Mark Rampion could not have been the man he is without the eight hundred pounds that Mary “lends” him to pursue the work that he loves most. It would not be amiss to say that Mary’s extravagant upbringing has made her more accommodative  – though this may seem to be a contradiction in terms. Indeed, all aristocratic gentlemen, including her father or her brother George, certainly would not have been as accommodative in the same circumstances. Given her naturalistic temperament, she does not bother about money, or the lack of it, after her marriage, just as she never had to bother in her father’s home. This is itself a point of irritation to Rampion, to whom it is positively wicked to treat money with so little respect. After they spend the night at a farm, she mistakenly leaves her spare pair of shoes behind. After they have discovered their loss, it is late in the afternoon, and they have walked quite a distance away. She would not be made to go back – “Let the boots bury the boots”, she says. Rampion is characteristically angry – “Remember you are not rich any more. You cannot afford to throw away a good pair of shoes”. Her only answer is, “I shall learn to walk barefoot”. Only a person with Mary’s temperament and background can speak in this manner, and it is this recklessness and accommodative spirit that Rampion learns from her – even though he resents it strongly at first. This brings us to another feature which makes the two very dissimilar. This has already been mentioned, but not clarified. Mary is the archetypal woman – she lives and works on emotion. He is the archetypal man—he lives and works on the intellect. It is too much for her to understand and interpret logically all the phenomena of life as he does. It is quite impossible for him to feel everything instinctively and emotionally as she does – “And getting more domestic everyday”, said Mary Rampion, who shared her husband’s opinion – or perhaps it would be truer to say, shared most of his feelings and, consciously or unconsciously, borrowed his opinions when she wanted to express them. 28 And again – Ah well”, she said, good-­humouredly, “ratiocination was never my strongest point. 29 It should be remembered that this differentiation is not accepted by modern feminists, as woman is now not seen as the epitome of emotion only,

38  Point Counter Point while man is, likewise not seen as the only expression of intellect. These fixed parameters are seen as a part of gender stereotypes imposed by a male-­dominated society. Huxley, however, is working on the reconciliation of opposites. The intellect and the emotions are not independent or mutually antagonistic, just as the mind and the body are not. A person who is finely balanced between pure intellect and pure emotion is perfection personified – but such a person is the product of nothing but imaginative idealism. The need for woman (emotion) to unite with a man (intellect) physically and mentally, is not merely an animal instinct; it is also a part of a driving urge towards perfection. It is this perfection which the Rampion couple comes close to attaining, and that is why they are set as the pattern against which all the rest of the characters are pitted – “Each separately was good, but together as a couple they were better still”. Rampion is the epitome of the “noble savage” (Quarles’s opinion); Mary is the living example of an “atavismus”, the Earth Mother, or the Pagan principle. It is relevant here to remember that Frieda Lawrence’s father had called her an “atavismus” when she ran off with D.H. Lawrence, since Mark and Mary Rampion are so transparently created along their lines. Together the Rampions serve to express naturalism in the face of increasing materialism and mechanization. Finally, the real-­life parallel of Rampion  – Lawrence  – has his own opinions of this character, and these opinions are not in the least flattering. There are many letters and reviews expressing his dissatisfaction, but a short poem he wrote in Pansies sums them all up very well – I AM IN A NOVEL I read a novel by a friend of mine in which one of the characters was me, the novel it sure was mighty fine but the funniest thing that could be was me, or what was supposed for me for I had to recognize a few of the touches, like a low-­born joke’ but the rest was a real surprise. Well damn my eyes! I said to myself. Well damn my little eyes! If this is what Archibald thinks I am He sure thinks a lot of lies.30 *   *   * Of the other characters, the couple who comes nearest to being “positive” characters (apart from Rachel Quarles, who, however, has a very minor role to play), is Philip Quarles and his wife Elinor. Quarles, too,

Point Counter Point 39 being another of those characters who do practically nothing and say a lot, is an avowed intellectual  – “an intellectual-­aesthetic pervert”, according to Rampion. His intellect is so predominant that his physique has become stunted: he is lame. This is the source of much unhappiness on his part, even to the extent of growing an inferiority complex on its account. He has never been able to participate in any physical activity, and has been rejected as being totally unfit for military service. He knows that there is nothing discreditable in becoming lame because he had been run over by a cart when he was very young, and that there is nothing unpatriotic in being rejected by the army on grounds of physical disability, but for once his mind does not control his feelings, and his weakness is always a sore point with him. It is as if his intellect has developed because his body could not, until he has become top-­heavy in the process – a grossly one-­sided personality. Just as Rampion is another of those Lawrentian variations which Huxley was so fond of creating, Quarles is an approximate projection of his own self. This is probably one of the reasons why Rampion can be painted with almost no criticism whatsoever, while his portrait of Quarles is actually a critique. Moreover, just as Lawrentian characters occur intermittently in his novels, so pseudo-­autobiographical characters are also common. Yet, it must also be noted that Huxley’s standard of judgement in Point Counter Point is not himself, but Rampion. These real-­life projections in Huxley are indeed made so purposefully transparent that it becomes easy to identify them. Half of the meaningfulness of the novel expires if the characters are not seen as they are meant to be seen. Thus, Burlap must be recognized as Middleton Murry, just as Rampion must certainly be seen as Lawrence. Quarles, as Huxley himself, has lost a brother who had been a favourite with his mother; Quarles is lame, Huxley was half-­blind; and both are deemed unfit for military service. Both, moreover, are novelists, writing novels of ideas. The analogy is not as close in Point Counter Point as in Eyeless in Gaza, but the similarity is there, and it is important. It is significant also because it helps us to understand the character of Quarles better. Since Quarles has very little physical action to his credit, we must depend almost totally on what he has to say and what others have to say about him in analyzing his character. Knowing his roots will at least help us in placing him in the context of the novel. Regarding Quarles’s own opinions, it is also to be noted that he is one of the least loquacious people in the book. Primarily an introvert, he expresses himself verbally extremely sparsely, and what he says is usually on general subjects which he logically analyses. He says almost nothing about his own feelings and attitudes, and except when the author, as omniscient narrator, breaks in to record his thoughts for us, we would have known almost nothing about Quarles the man from himself. What he verbally says is mainly to his wife, Elinor, and a little to Rampion;

40  Point Counter Point and the rest consists of social niceties and formal civilities to his parents, his son, and a few of the others. We therefore have to depend for the most part on Elinor to understand him at all, both for what he says to her, as for what she says about him. We find that of all the characters in the novel it is she who knows him the most thoroughly, and she only who can read him inside out. First, of course, Quarles’s own conversations must be considered. The first time we see him, he is in India with Elinor, preparing to return home. His son, Phil, had been with Elinor’s mother, Mrs. Bidlake, all this time, and had been educated by a governess, Mrs. Fulkes. From the very beginning Elinor harps on the one aspect of her husband, which proves to be the keynote of his character – the predominance of head over heart. After a disappointing evening in the company of Mr. Sita Ram, Elinor, while returning with Philip in the car, indulges in the sweetness of nostalgia – “Do you remember those evenings? In the garden of Gattenden? Do you remember, Phil?” And “Phil”, being not in the least interested in the garden of Gattenden, replies in “the rather flat and colourless voice of one who answers an important telephone” – “Which evenings?” Elinor, predictably, is extremely, hurt and disappointed, and accuses him of not loving her any more, which he, also predictably, contradicts – “I do, as it happens….But what I really want to know is how we ever got to this point from the place where we started. We began with evenings and now….”31 But Elinor is more interested in love than in logic. That is why she expects her husband to automatically remember the time when they were first married, at the mere mention of “those evenings” – which Philip with his logical brain cannot do. Memories are to her the support of her mind; to him, they are just faded history. Elinor realizes for the umpteenth time that Philip is not capable of love as she interprets it. Love to her is to give oneself entirely. She herself genuinely loves Philip and is unhappy because she can only have him from a distance. His intellect to him is everything, as Elinor complains – Why should I love you so much? Why? It isn’t fair. You’re protected by an intellect and a talent. You have your work to retire into, your ideas to shield you. But I have nothing – no defence against my feelings, no alternative to you.32 And Philip Quarles knows that what she has said is true, even though he tries desperately to protest. “You don’t know how to lie convincingly”, she says. “You’re too honest. That’s one of the reasons why I love you. If you knew how transparent you were!” Quarles’s transparency is evident, of course, to Elinor alone, for to everyone else he is a closed door. To others, he is honest about his ideas and opinions, but to see right through the intellect to the man beneath can be done by Elinor alone, not just because her emotions concerning him are genuine and deep,

Point Counter Point 41 but also because she is The Woman – instinctive, emotional, impulsive. What she can take in instinctively is often far more than what he can analyze logically. Elinor wants him to write a “simple, straightforward story about a young man and a young woman who fall in love and get married and have difficulties, but get over them, and finally settle down”. After thinking about this the whole day, Philip suddenly tells her – “That simple story of yours, it wouldn’t do”. His reason? “It wouldn’t give me my opportunity. It would have to be solid and deep. Whereas I’m wide; wide and liquid. It wouldn’t be in my line”. Elinor looks up from the book she is reading, and answers – “I could have told you that the first day I met you”.33 Indeed, this dialogue tells us as much about Elinor as about Philip. Elinor’s instinctive knowledge at times far surpasses the knowledge gained from Philip’s intellect. As for him, he knows his limitations. The intellect can only broaden the mind; it cannot give it depth. That is why he remembers what Burlap had told him once  – “You’ll never write a good book unless you write from the heart”. Philip knows quite well that his heart is so under-­developed that he cannot do so, and he therefore decides to keep his own identity. This is where the omniscient narrator steps in. Whenever there is a remission in dialogue, Quarles thinks, and many of his thoughts are recorded in order to gain a better picture of his ideas. He realizes that he has no identity, because it is “so easy for him to be almost anybody theoretically and with intelligence”. His mind is likened to the amoeba – “It [is] like a sea of spiritual protoplasm, capable of flowing in all directions, of engulfing every object in its path, of trickling into every crevice, of filling every mould, and having engulfed, having filled, of flowing on towards other obstacles, other receptacles, leaving the first one dry”.34 A man who has no emotional identity cannot be oneself – “Where was the self to which he could be loyal?” He realizes that Burlap may be a hypocrite, but he is nevertheless right  – that in a paradoxical way, he is free because he is not confined to any role; but he himself is actually spiritually confined because of this. This lack of emotion in Philip is also corroborated by his mother, Rachel Quarles. Geoffrey, her other son, is dead, but he had been more approachable, and he had at least permitted himself to be loved. Philip, on the other hand, is “remote, impregnable” – “He had always shut doors when she approached, always locked up his mind lest she should catch a glimpse of his secrets”. This makes Elinor’s understanding of him all the more remarkable, for to see through a man who cannot be pierced even by his mother, indeed speaks much about her instinctive insight. Sometimes this impassivity exasperates Elinor so much that she even contemplates revolting against it – at any cost. Her only aim then is to make him feel. She attempts threatening him with desertion. She refuses to go through her life “giving something for nothing”. “What would you

42  Point Counter Point do if I went off with another man?” she asks. But even that will be of no avail if Philip does not become “wretched” because of it. Yet, instead of being “wretched”, Philip asks her to begin with Everard Webley! Later she tries to drive the fact into him – “Everard’s in love with me” – but fails to produce any show of emotion whatsoever. She is completely at a loss – Couldn’t he understand? After all, he wasn’t a fool. Or perhaps he did understand and was only pretending not to; perhaps he was secretly glad about Everard. Or was it just indifference that made him blind? Nobody understands what he does not feel….If only he’d show himself jealous, or sad, or angry, how happy she’d be, how grateful!35 Philip remains content with making fun of Webley. Giving it up, but hardening her heart against him, she leaves the room. Philip is left wondering whether he should have told her what he did not naturally feel – He was sure she’d never really care for Everard. But perhaps he oughtn’t to take it so much for granted. She had seemed rather upset. Perhaps she had expected him to say something – how much he cared for her, how wretched he’d be, how angry if she were to stop caring for him. But these precisely were the almost unsayable things.36 It is beyond the point that Elinor’s attempt “to go off with another man” ends in disaster. In Huxley’s novels most of what people want sincerely and passionately ends in such a manner. It underlines the futility of human endeavour. What, however, is true here is the fact that Elinor, in love with Philip, tries to revolt against this love, but fails. It is not that Philip does not realize this: he is too clear-­headed not to understand the basics of human relationships. The problem with him, however, is that he understands them with his head, not with his heart. That is why this excerpt from his diary reads like an analysis of his own marital relationships – But it is difficult to break life-­long habits; and perhaps the habits are only an expression of an inborn indifference and coldness, which it might be almost impossible to overcome. And for him at any rate, the mere intellectual life is easier; it’s the line of least resistance, because it’s the line that avoids other human beings. Among them his wife. For he’d have a wife and there would be the elements of drama in the relations between the woman, living mainly with her emotions and intuitions, and the man whose existence is mainly on the abstracted intellectual plane. He loves her in his way, and she loves him in hers. Which means that he is contented and she is dissatisfied; for love in his way entails the minimum of those warm, confiding human relationships which constitute the essence of love

Point Counter Point 43 in her way. She complains; he would like to give more, but finds it hard to change himself. She even threatens to leave him for a more human lover; but she is too much in love with him to put the threat into effect.37 One of the reasons why Elinor fails to leave Philip notwithstanding her threats is that her role is to a great extent as his alter ego. He is the intellectual factor, she is his emotional counterpart. He may not like to admit it, but in fact, he cannot do without her – and she knows this as well as he – For in the ordinary daily world of human contacts he was curiously like a foreigner, uneasily not at home among his fellows, finding it difficult or impossible to enter into communication with any but those who could speak his native, intellectual language of ideas. Emotionally he was a foreigner. Elinor was his interpreter, his dragoman. Like her father, Elinor Bidlake had been born with a gift of intuitive understanding and social ease. She was quickly at home with anybody. She knew instinctively, like old John himself, just what to say to every type of person – to every type, except, perhaps, her husband’s. it is difficult to know what to say to someone who does not say anything in return, who answers the personal word with the impersonal, the particular and feeling word with an intellectual generalization. Still, being in love with him, she persisted in her efforts to lure him into direct contact….38 That is why Philip is so sure about her that he is not in the least moved when she threatens to leave him. That is also why Elinor cannot be comfortable with anyone except Philip, even though she threatens dire consequences if he continues to give nothing for everything. When she talks of taking a lover, it is not to get any pleasure from such an act, but to punish Philip – She had grown accustomed to think and act too exclusively in relationship with Philip. Even when she planned to take a lover, it was still of him that she thought.39 Neither of them is exclusive of the other. No doubt, the Rampions are happier than the Quarleses. The Rampions too are dependent on each other, each making up for the deficiencies of the other. But they are happy because each is more or less a “whole” human being. If the emotion or the intellect rules, it is not totally at the expense of the other faculties. Philip Quarles is only half a man because he has stunted his emotional side so completely by constant suppression. Elinor, on the other hand, is totally instinctive, emotional.

44  Point Counter Point All her faculties are directed to one end  – to make her husband feel. That is why she can even contemplate the ultimate sacrifice  – to push her husband towards adultery, in order to see whether he can respond to any woman apart from herself. As usual, she fails. The dependence is mutual – she cannot bring herself to love any other man, try as she might to respond to Everard Webley’s advances; he has no taste for any other woman, however, much he attempts to force himself on Molly d’ Exergillod. Elinor is not the atavismus which Mary Rampion is, but she certainly has the elements which make her the “other half” of Philip. To her life itself is more important than any one of its aspects. Happening to read a volume of Everard Webley’s latest Speeches and Addresses, in which he expatiates on the policies of the British Freemen, she for a time actually believes him to be a fool, since all this means simply nothing to her – “Why should people bother about this sort of thing”, she thinks, “instead of just living?” To her “simply living” is the most natural thing in the world. To Philip it is the most difficult – Living’s much more difficult than Sanskrit or chemistry or economics….I regarded the Search for Truth as the highest of human tasks and the Searchers as the noblest of men. But in the last year or so I have begun to see that…seeking Truth is much easier than integral living…Shall I ever have the strength of mind to break myself of these indolent habits of intellectualism and devote my energies to the more serious and difficult task of living integrally?40 In this respect, Elinor is a more competent human being than Philip. They complement each other no doubt, but they are so far apart in understanding and responses, that though they realize that they cannot do without each other, they cannot be happy. Philip wishes to communicate with her; he cannot, because his emotional wavelength is too short. Elinor wishes him to communicate; she cannot understand his inability to do so. Elinor wants to live – physically and emotionally. Philip’s main problem is that he does not live his life – he comments on it. It is to be noticed that in both cases – the Rampions and the Quarleses – Huxley regards instinct and emotion as female qualities, and intellect and reason as male qualities. Often the female qualities are shown to be of greater strength and effectiveness than the male qualities, but they are, nevertheless, different. One of the main characteristics of the Novel of Ideas is this dissecting of human qualities and appropriating individual qualities to individual men and women. This is the case in both the couples delineated here. One point, however, is common to both – their total lack of interest in the established tenets of morality. The causes of doing this may be different. Philip logically weighs everything before accepting it; Elinor acts according to what her heart tells her. Whether her action is moral

Point Counter Point 45 or not is purely accidental. That is why Philip can calmly write about his wife’s relationship with Everard Webley in his notebook and still feel complacent about his relationship with her (Chapter XXIX). He can flirt with Molly at a party, ask for a few kisses, be put off a little at her refusal, and then think of telling Elinor about his exploits with her. As for Elinor herself, she is not bothered with morality anyhow – “It seems to me just nonsense”, she says about it. To her “the Immediate experience is more important than religion or transcendent morality”. That is why Mrs. Quarles is astonished and shocked when Elinor replies after being asked about her feelings on meeting her little son again – Well, I knew that Mrs. Fulkes and mother between them would look after him much better than I do. I don’t think Nature ever meant me to have children. Either I am impatient with them, or else I spoil them. Little Phil’s a pet, of course; but I know that a family would have driven me crazy.41 And worse – I didn’t imagine I could be so glad to see him again.42 Mrs. Quarles’s opinion of her is understandable – “A queer girl”. When Elinor contemplates having an affair with Webley, she shrinks from actually carrying out her plans not because she hesitates in committing an act of adultery, but because she cannot bring herself to emotionally become involved with him. She is integrally related to her husband, and to nobody else. She may not be having any moral qualms, but her instincts are more moral than many of the well-­thought-­out virtues of other people – She longed for an excuse to love him [Philip] again. As for Everard – why, Everard simply didn’t count. To the deep instinctive core of her being he really didn’t matter and if Philip would only take the trouble to love her a little, he wouldn’t matter any more even to the conscious part of her that was trying to love him – to love him on principle, so to speak, to love him deliberately, of set purpose… It was only her mind that had decided to accept [Webley]. Her feelings, her body, all the habits of her instinctive self were in rebellion. What her intellect found harmless, her stiffened and shrinking body passionately disapproved. The spirit was a libertine, but the flesh and its affections were chaste.43 Discourse based on well-­thought-­out logic seems in Point Counter Point to be the prerogative of Rampion alone, because of all the characters

46  Point Counter Point it is only he who can combine reason with an aptitude for oratory. Philip Quarles has the reason, but not the urge to convince people verbally about his deeply thought-­out ideas. Nevertheless, he does wish to express his ideas in some way, and apart from his novels, which are totally impersonal, he emerges with a notebook. Notebook writing is extended discourse, and though it is a favourite instrument of Huxley, in Point Counter Point it especially suits the character of Philip Quarles. This technique also serves to give expression to some of Huxley’s own ideas through Quarles, who is an approximate presentation of himself. Moreover, a closed personality like Quarles is better understood because he takes to writing in a personalized form. The notebook is the source of many of the important opinions of Philip Quarles, some of which have already been referred to. Apart from commenting on miscellaneous matters, these jottings can broadly be categorized into three types – his views of the novel as a literary type and his aims in using this medium for his own purpose; his views on politics, society, and other objective subjects; and his opinions about himself and his associates. Point Counter Point is a novel which could have been written by Quarles himself. Quarles, like Huxley, is an intellectual, who chooses the form of the Novel of Ideas because he does not have the ability to write about life in its many varied colours. He can only logically dissect the universe and write about each of the parts. “If you were little less of an overman, Phil”, Elinor had told him, “What good novels you’d write!” And he knows how right she is. She wishes him to write a “simple straightforward story about a young man and a young woman who fall in love and get married and have difficulties, but get over them and finally settle down”. But though he does think about her suggestion, he finds that he cannot – “He could manage the complications as well as anyone. But when it came to the simplicities, he lacked the talent – the talent which is of the heart, no less than of the head, of the feelings, the sympathies, the intuitions, no less than of the analytical understanding”.44 That is why he sticks to the novel of ideas. In the notebook, he dwells at length on the drawbacks of this kind of novel – that it is not the work of “a congenital novelist”; that its characters are basically “monsters” because they “can reel off neatly formulated notions”; and that it concerns only a very small percentage of the human race, since its characters are only those who “have ideas to express”. Quarles also writes about “the musicalization of fiction”  – a notion which has been very popular with critics till date. The “musicalization” does not mean “subordinating sense to sound”; it means forming contrapuntal implications in the construction of the novel itself. That is why Point Counter Point could have been written by Philip Quarles because this is Huxley’s first and most significant novel written in this method. Quarles’s comments on other people are for the most part found in his notebook because he is not much given to gossipy conversations.

Point Counter Point 47 We have passing comments in his dialogues which are extremely pithy and tongue-­in-­cheek. In the written form, we have detailed references to Elinor, Rampion, and Webley, with a few short remarks on others. It is remarkable that even when Quarles is writing in a very personal notebook, through which he has no danger whatsoever of being exposed emotionally, he writes in a very cold, calculating manner. Thus, he can analyse Elinor’s relationship with Webley, and he can conclude that he himself is to blame in connection with Elinor’s unhappiness. He can talk of Rampion as his ideal, and for what reasons. He can resolve to ask Rampion the “secret” of a balanced existence, but he will do no more than that. His portrait of Webley is not at all flattering – his “mouth is like a black hole in the middle of a straining face”; “a mouth open to bray”. There is a tongue-­in-­cheek account of the meeting of the British Freemen, and Philip is genuinely overwhelmed by the regimentation, the splendour of the organization, and by Webley’s oratorical prowess; but his intellect reminds him of the hollowness of words and the meaninglessness of outward smartness. “What a great stage manager was lost in Everard!” is his final comment. Philip’s opinions of himself are more enlightening. The notebook is the ideal method of gaining at least a minimum of insight into his way of thinking. A few conclusions emerge from these self-­observations. Firstly, Philip’s honesty about his shortcomings and weaknesses is quite disarming. He, of course, conveniently avoids writing about those matters which hurt or touch him the most – his physical disability, for instance. But about the matters he does admit into his notebook, he is quite practical. He is intensely aware of the limitations of his faculties, of his stunted emotional growth, and of the predominance of intellect. He recognizes the superiority of Elinor in this regard. He realizes that if he wishes to learn to be a complete human being, and not a “pervert”, he can use a few tips from Rampion. But that is about all. Philip Quarles’s lack of action is one of his main features. He realizes everything; he does nothing. There is no discrepancy between his thought and action, not only because he is straightforward and honest but also because there is very little scope for such discrepancy. The second characteristic feature which emerges from his writing is his total lack of greed, and his repudiation of what he calls the “instinct of acquisitiveness”. Of course, since such an instinct is related to physical comfort, Philip is far from possessing it, for anything pertaining merely to a mental urge has no attraction for him – No, my under-­acquisitiveness is hereditary as well as acquired. In any case, I find myself uninterested in possessions and rather unsympathetic with, and without understanding of, those who are. No predominantly acquisitive character has appeared in any of my stories. It is a defect; for acquisitives are obviously very common in real life.

48  Point Counter Point But I doubt if I could make such a character interesting – not being interested myself in the acquisitive passion.45 Finally, like a true novelist (though he does not consider himself as one), Quarles is always attempting to discover new characters, new types, which he can use in his novels. The paradox lies in the fact that though he chooses people from real life, like Walter, Elinor, and himself to fit into his novels, his characters fall into types and lose their individuality once he puts them into writing. “The heart! The heart!” Burlap had told him once, and he knows that however revolting that man may be, he is right. Philip is a good essayist, and not a good novelist, for his novels are too intellectual to contain any reality in them. Philip, however, genuinely values his work, and the less he thinks about personal relationships, the more he theorizes about his writing. It is as if he is purposely channelling his mind towards those areas in which he is the most comfortable. Apart from the dialogues and the notebook, Philip and Elinor Quarles are opened to us through the intermittent interventions of the omniscient narrator, who exposes to us what is tightly closed in their minds. Narration is an integral part of the ordinary realistic novel, and Point Counter Point is no exception. The narrator knows all, sees all, and is everywhere at once. Slight exceptions, however, occur often, especially in the case of Quarles, where the narrator expresses aloud the thoughts of the character. In these instances, it is not mere narration – it is as if the character himself is thinking aloud, and is therefore closer to the interior monologue – Like dogs, he thought. But the heart, the heart…The heart was Burlap’s speciality. “You’ll never write a good book”, he had said oracularly, “unless you write from the heart”. It was true; Philip knew it. But was Burlap the man to say so; Burlap whose books were so heartfelt that they looked as though they had come from the stomach, after an emetic? If he went in for the grand simplicities, the results would be no less repulsive. Better to cultivate his own particular garden for all it was worth. Better to remain rigidly and loyally oneself. Oneself? But this question of identity was precisely one of Philip’s chronic problems. It was so easy for him to be almost anybody, theoretically and with his intelligence…46 Or in the case of Elinor – Philip looked at her with a kind of anxiety. His eyes seemed to implore. But she wouldn’t allow herself to be touched. She had allowed herself to be touched too often. He had exploited her love, systematically underpaid her, and whenever she threatened rebellion, had turned suddenly rather pathetic and helpless, appealing to her better feelings.

Point Counter Point 49 This time she was going to be hard. He might look as imploring and anxious as he liked, but she wouldn’t take any notice. It only served him right. All the same she felt rather guilty. And yet it was his fault. Why couldn’t he love her actively, articulately, outright? When she gave him her love, he took it for granted, he accepted it passively as his right. And when she stopped giving it, he looked dumbly anxious and imploring. But as for saying anything, as for doing anything….47 The effect here is more like that of the stream-­of-­consciousness novel – the feeling that there is no narration at all! It is not interior monologue, but no doubt something very like it. A similar technique is employed by Lawrence in Sons and Lovers and The Rainbow, and it is probable that Huxley, with his avowed admiration for Lawrence, owes something to his friend in this regard, even though the indebtedness may be somewhat involuntary. *   *   * In the context of “positive” characters, the only ones left who are worthy of analysis are Marjorie and Rachel Quarles – if Marjorie can be termed “positive” at all. In any case, she is not “negative” in the sense of literary terminology, even though her whole life is a tale of negation. But these characters should be taken together, for in a sense they are related. There is nothing in the novel that can enable us to identify Marjorie, Walter’s wife, as anything but an insipid, colourless, tedious personality. She has a whining voice, an affected way of speaking, and so strict a self-­ control, that it restricts her natural behaviour and responses. She is one person of whom all the characters, including Rampion, have the same opinion, and as such, there is not much we can say at variance with such universal feelings. Walter, who had eloped with Marjorie, and is now infatuated with Lucy Tantamount, thinks of her thus – ….she was really rather a bore with her heavy, insensitive earnestness, really rather stupid in spite of her culture – because of it, perhaps. The culture was genuine, alright; she had read the books; she remembered them. But did she understand them? Could she understand them? The remarks with which she broke her long, long silences, the cultured, earnest remarks – how heavy they were, how humourless and without understanding!48 Carling, her first husband, had called her “Turnip” or “Dumb-­bell”. Elinor, Walter’s sister, sympathizes with Marjorie, but cannot help calling her “a dreary woman” – Poor Marjorie! But why can’t she keep her face better powdered? And those artistic beads and earrings she always wears….49

50  Point Counter Point And Quarles, in his inimitable, intellectual manner, sums up the affair between Walter and Marjorie – “The young man who tries to make his life rhyme with his idealizing books and imagines he’s having a great spiritual love, only to discover that he’s got hold of a bore whom he really doesn’t like at all”.50 What Walter’s father, John Bidlake, thinks of Marjorie, is very characteristic, since he is a staunch upholder of the expression of the natural self. Lady Tantamount says to him – “I never met the woman”. “I did. She’s awful”. “What, vulgar?” “No, no. I wish she were. She’s refined, terribly refined. And she speaks like this”. He spoke in a drawling falsetto that was meant to be an imitation of Marjorie’s voice. “Like a sweet little innocent girlie. And so serious, such a high-­brow….What an imbecile! And she has a nose that’s at least three inches too long”.51 Marjorie’s embracing of the spiritual life as a palliative for her suffering at the hands of Walter is not as praiseworthy as it would at first seem. In Huxley’s novels, especially the ones following Point Counter Point, this turning towards the spiritual as a meaningful oasis in the general atmosphere of physicality and meaninglessness is an essential point in the total world-­view presented. Mark Staithes (Eyeless in Gaza), Pete (After Many a Summer), and Sebastian Barnack (Time Must Have a Stop) are all influenced by spiritual “guru” figures who attempt to create a different and more meaningful world from the one they behold among them. In these novels, spiritualism is shown as an antidote to the prevalent philosophy of meaninglessness, as a probable solution to it. Such a spiritual transformation is also to be seen in Those Barren Leaves (in Calamy, who goes off into the mountains in search of peace), and in the case of Marjorie in Point Counter Point. The difference in these two novels, both of which chronologically precede the other three already mentioned, is that here, those who end up by following the spiritual road, are more-­or-­less dealt with in a tongue-­in-­cheek manner, as childish attempts at spirituality. We see Calamy as a man expert at making love and enjoying himself; suddenly we hear that he has disappeared into the mountains alone. When Mr. Cardan and Chelifer visit him there, he is glad to communicate again with a bit of that life he has left behind. When they go away, he cannot escape that tinge of regret in his mind, and he wonders whether he has been a fool to come away at all. Calamy, we hear in another report, has run away into the hills to escape from Mrs. Aldwinkle. Marjorie, likewise, is also escaping into a spiritual

Point Counter Point 51 realm – from the unkindness of Walter. She drowns herself in the world of religion, as a drunkard would in a bottle of drink. Spiritualism is like a drug to her, benumbing her senses, and making her thus immune to emotional upheavals – “Walter?” she called questioningly to the source of the noises in the passage. The voice in which he answered was dead and flat. “Why is he so unhappy?” she wondered at the sound of it, but wondered from a great distance and with a kind of far-­away resentment. She resented his disturbing presence, his very existence. She entered the room and she saw that his face was pale, his eyes darkly ringed. What’s the matter?” she asked, almost against her will. The nearer she came to Walter, the further she moved from the marvellous nothingness of God. “You don’t look well at all. “It’s nothing”, he answered….Ah well, Marjorie was thinking; he had said it was nothing; that was all right; she needn’t worry any further. “Poor Walter”, she said aloud, and smiled at him with a pitying tenderness. He wasn’t going to make any demands on her attention or her feelings; she resented him no longer.52 There is a qualitative difference between this kind of spirituality and that of the later novels. When Propter or Miller expound their views, they do so as deeply concerned members of the society, trying to change it for the better in whatever way they can, and attempting to help common humanity to the best of their ability. To Calamy or Marjorie, however, it is a means of playing truant from the difficulties and strain of modern life. Marjorie finds consolation in her new-­found religion, and in that respect, it is no doubt beneficial, for it makes her happier; but to her, it is as much an escape as her marriage to Walter was in the first place. Rachel Quarles, Marjorie’s mentor, is a far more balanced person than Marjorie can ever be, even in the height of her spiritual ecstasy. Just as Marjorie meets with disfavour from one and all, even to an extent from Rachel, herself, (“The voice!” Mrs. Quarles couldn’t help thinking, and repented immediately of the thought) so Rachel gets favourable opinions from everyone who has come into contact with her. If there is one person in the novel who is depicted as totally positive, totally good, almost faultless, with a goodness which is contagious and healing, it is Philip Quarles’s mother. A far more superior character than her husband (though she will never admit it), she is doomed to live with a hypocritical lecher like Simon Quarles and has to divide her time into managing her estate and bringing up her two children. Unlike the instinctive nature of

52  Point Counter Point Mary Rampion and Elinor Quarles, her character is practical and well-­ balanced. Her sound practical sense is evident both in the fact that she manages the estate almost single-­handedly – ….she persuaded him that he would have more time for his great work if he left the tiresome business of estate management to others. She and the bailiff were good enough for that.53 – and also in her tactfulness in dealing with her difficult husband, of which this is only one example – To hostile criticism Sidney reacted with a violent and obstinate contrariness. Made wise by experience Rachel Quarles averted the danger redoubling her encouragement of his political ambitions. She magnified the importance of his political activities. What good, what noble work he was doing! And what a pity that the care of the business should take up so much of the time and energies that might have been better employed! Sidney responded at once and with a secret and unrealized gratitude.54 This practical sense is severely tested in the Gladys episode, an incident which would have sent any other woman crazy with jealousy, anger, and apprehension. She, who would otherwise have been expected to require comfort and good advice, is the one who takes the situation in hand, and offers comfort to the hysterical Gladys – “It’s all right”, she kept repeating, patting the girl’s shoulder. “It’s all right. You mustn’t cry”.55 It is to this woman that Marjorie turns for spiritual advice. She is the only one who accepts Marjorie, sympathizes with her, and tries to help her. Yet there is a qualitative difference between the spiritualism of Marjorie and that of Mrs. Quarles. Whereas in the former it is a means of escape from worldly worries, an instrument to make her indifferent to the world and its people; in the latter it is an ennobling factor, a means of enriching and improving her environment. She never ignores her social duties in pursuit of the spiritual life; rather, such spiritualism serves to enable her to carry out her worldly jobs better. The following speeches will help to bring out this difference – Marjorie: Do you know the Black Country? I feel as though I’d come out of those mining towns on the moors. Out into the great open spaces….And when I look back, the black town seems so small and insignificant compared with the space and enormous sky. As though one were looking at it through the wrong end of a pair of field-­glasses.

Point Counter Point 53 Mrs. Quarles: Not so insignificant as all that. For after all, there are people living in that town, however black it may be. And the wrong end of the field-­glasses is the wrong end. One is not meant to look at things so that they appear small and insignificant. That’s one of the dangers of getting out under the sky; one is too apt to think of the towns and people in them as small and remote and unimportant. And it is the business of the lucky ones who have come out into the open to help the others to come too.56 Marjorie’s tendency is to draw back into herself, allowing the world to recede. Mrs. Quarles tries to make her understand that true spiritualism lies in being a part of the world, not running away from it. In this respect Rampion, the universal commentator would approve of Mrs. Quarles, even though he does disapprove of spiritualism of any kind. Mrs. Quarles does not fall within his definition of a “pervert”, but Marjorie certainly does. *   *   * Huxley’s philosophy of meaninglessness has more takers than contradictors in the novel, it would seem. Apart from the characters already mentioned, all the rest in one way or the other reiterate this view of life. Moreover, in this novel, Huxley is using the method of counterpoint for his satiric and didactic purposes. Each character, each idea, and each incident has its counter. Thus, little Phil’s death is counterpointed against the death of Webley; the true compatibility of the Rampions is countered by the falsity of the relations between Walter and Marjorie; the sincere writers like Rampion or Quarles are antithetical to the posing writers like Burlap. So, against the background of the theoretical meaningfulness illustrated by the Rampions or Quarleses, there is set the actual meaninglessness of the rest of civilization. The biggest illustration of this meaninglessness is the character of Spandrell. As the living example of the philosophy of negation, he lives to see beauty destroyed, virtue raped, and all positive feelings contradicted. Yet, unlike old Mr. Quarles, the lecherous hypocrite; or Lucy, the avowed man-­eater; or Illidge, the frustrated commoner; or Burlap, the nauseating man of the flesh who preaches in spiritual terms, Spandrell is born with genuine qualities which he cannot completely suppress even by dying. It is as if the author painstakingly creates sympathy for this man, only to effect a bigger destruction at the end. Moreover, even though like the other characters, he is built primarily through dialogue, he is the only person in the novel with real action to his credit. The action is characteristic action no doubt, but instead of following as a result of words, it is used in Spandrell’s case instead of words. At this point, he becomes different from the rest. He is also one of those rare characters of Huxley built with rounded edges. Indeed, he neither changes with the course of events nor does he do anything uncharacteristic of his basic turn of

54  Point Counter Point mind. But he does have features which allow the reader to view him with some sympathy, to regret the waste of very fine individual qualities. The fact that Spandrell is antithetical to Rampion, and that he ruthlessly negativizes all the positive traits in his system, is established from the moment we see him in the company of the Rampions early in the novel. It is ironic that he is seen in their company first and dies with Rampion as the chief witness. In fact, we can even view him as Rampion’s alter ego in the novel. Rampion devotes his life to encouraging the positive and suppressing the drawbacks in both his own and the social system; Spandrell does his best to do the opposite. This, of course, presupposes the fact that there is a positive side to suppress. That is why Spandrell feels an illogical joy in the company of Mark and Mary Rampion. They are happy together, warm in their mutual closeness. He is only a spectator, unable to participate in their compatibility. Yet he is happy in their happiness  – a totally unselfish feeling, which can only emerge in a heart capable of such unselfishness. The suppression comes almost immediately – “You ought to get married, you know”, he [Rampion] said. Spandrell’s happiness suddenly collapsed. It was as if he had come with a jolt to his senses. He felt almost angry with himself. What business had he to go and sentimentalize over a happy couple?57 To them, marriage is the culmination of the joys of life; it even has the power to change a man for the better. To Spandrell this is precisely the reason why marriage should be avoided – he has absolutely no wish to be changed for the better! Rampion’s remark at this caps the character of Spandrell – Yes, that’s the trouble with you, Spandrell. You like stewing in your disgusting, suppurating juice. You don’t want to be made healthy. You enjoy your unwholesomeness. You’re rather proud of it even.58 It is a conscious effort to avoid whatever is good and beautiful in life. Unless, of course, marriage offers him the opposite alternative  – “He might infect her with his own gangrene”. This, Spandrell thinks is “the first really good argument in favour of matrimony I ever heard”. Spandrell is exposed to the reader through the eyes of Mary Rampion, who describes him in terms of disease and sickness – Like a gargoyle, Mary thought, a gargoyle in a pink boudoir…Only the gargoyle was a comic devil, so extravagantly diabolical that you couldn’t take his devilishness very seriously. Spandrell was a real person, not a caricature; that was why his face was so much sinister

Point Counter Point 55 and tragical. It was a gaunt face. Cheekbone and jaw showed in hard outline against the tight skin. He grey eyes were deeply set. In the cadaverous mask only the mouth was fleshy – a wide mouth with lips that stood out from the skin like two thick weals.59 This simile is not only physically true but it is also mentally applicable. Spandrell’s mind too is sore and swollen – “Like a weal”. It is diseased because the healthy mind exists no more. It is rather like what Lucy says about his smile – “Like an appendicitis operation with ironical corners”. Spandrell’s disease, however, is imposed on his healthy mind and body by himself. His whole life is an exercise in pretence – to pretend to be what he is not; to pretend to negativism in the face of inner positivism. This essential pretence is not hypocrisy, for hypocrisy implies conduct which contradicts speech. Spandrell negates his basic nature and tries to change his positive qualities into something dark and vicious. After he has managed to become what he is not, he attempts to express this new self. It does not show a gulf between doing and thinking as Burlap shows; it is actually an expression of actual thoughts, but after having changed them totally. This essential pretence, too, has been detected by Rampion’s infallible understanding of human nature  – “Rampion looked at him distastefully. So theatrical. It was as though the man were overacting in order to convince himself he was there at all”. The account of Spandrell’s family background, too, is but another attempt to build up a core of sympathy for this man. Spandrell’s actions are difficult to defend in the circumstances, but nevertheless, the tale of his youth does certainly provide a psychological cause for his rebellion against good sense, virtue, and beauty. Psychological veracity – that is what the author tries to provide. The closeness that Spandrell and his mother had enjoyed after the death of his father received a severe jolt when she decided to marry Major Knoyle (now a General), whom he heartily detested. None of his entreaties had any effect, for his mother was quite convinced that she needed money, and that her young son needed a father – both of which, she believed, were for his good. Spandrell, not quite so convinced, and learning of the secrets of sex for the first time at that age, was quite horrified to think of his mother having a sexual relationship with an unknown man. It spoilt the picture that he had etched in his mind of her. Her marriage with the Major did his relationship with his mother irreparable damage and that was the beginning of the end – Ever since his mother’s second marriage Spandrell had always perversely made the worst of things, chosen the worst course, deliberately encouraged his own worst tendencies. It was with debauchery that he distracted his endless leisure. He was taking his revenge on her, on himself also for having been so foolishly happy and good. He was spiting her, spiting himself, spiting God. He hoped there

56  Point Counter Point was a hell for him to go to, and regretted his inability to believe in its existence.60 It is indeed the fall of Lucifer: Lucifer the Archangel, with qualities only inferior to God. Spandrell’s diabolism is like Lucifer’s – it is not inherent; it is acquired. But since he is not an angel, his suppressed qualities sometimes make back-­door appearances without his knowledge. Debauchery is more a habit with him than a source of enjoyment. He initially had pursued vice with pleasure, but the moment it became a habit, it lost its interest, and Spandrell now finds no excitement in rebelling against morality. Yet, initially, Spandrell had also to fight his own better instincts to come down to the standard of debauchery he had set for himself. There is the case, for example, of little Harriet, whom he chose then for his programme of the “corruption of youth”. Detesting women because it was his mother who had hurt him, he wished to inflict pain, not merely by exploiting sexually, but by teaching the hated flesh of women “an indulgence which he himself regarded as evil, by luring and caressing it onto more and more triumphant rebellion against the conscious soul”; and finally, the “gradual insinuation into the mind of his victim of the fundamental wrongness and baseness of the raptures he himself had taught her to feel”. The point is that even while he is carrying out his carefully planned programme, he is hating the task, genuinely caring for the girl in his own way, and feeling deeply disgusted with the whole operation. He is violating his own feelings as well as hers. He first approaches her with tact and gentleness, developing a loving, caring relationship with her, making himself her hero, and making their physical union seem to be an automatic outcome of genuine love. Having accomplished this, he proceeds to shrink from her ardours, “as though he is being outraged or violated”. Deeply hurt, she cannot understand the cause of this sudden shrinking on his part. Next, pretending to receive a parcel, he opens it to find the most nauseating pornographic material imaginable, the sight of which makes her horrified and disgusted with everything she had previously done with Spandrell. He then renews his passion, now with obscene love-­making, forcing her to flee from him now in hatred and self-­disgust. The very fact that he does not renew such an experiment, that his using of Harriet is the first and last of its kind, shows his distaste for such exploits – He contented himself with talking about the excitements of diabolism, while in practice he remained sunk apathetically in the dismal routine of brandy and hired love.61 His diabolism, therefore, remains merely verbal, no more. The violence he has committed on his soul, the force that he has exerted in order to

Point Counter Point 57 make it vile and suppurating, is taking its toll in a physical and mental lethargy. Laziness to him is now a habit, and he excuses it by inventing logical causes for it – “– work’s no more respectable than alcohol, and it serves exactly the same purpose: it just distracts the mind, making a man forget himself”. Unhappiness is the essence of life to him, something a man strives after, works for, searches for throughout his life – But why should two people be unhappy?” persisted the barmaid. “When it isn’t necessary? Why shouldn’t they be unhappy?” Spandrell enquired. “Perhaps it’s what they are here for. How do you know that the earth isn’t some other planet’s hell?62 Spandrell himself is well aware of the duality existing in himself – of the person he “might have been” had circumstances been different – When I think of myself”, he said, “I feel sure that everything that has happened to me was somehow engineered in advance. As a young boy I had a foretaste of what I might have grown up to be, but for events. Something entirely different from this actual Me. A little angel, what?” said Illidge. Spandrell ignored the interruption. “But from the time I was fifteen onwards, things began happening to me which were prophetically like what I am now.63 This is what makes him almost tragic. He can pursue diabolism, albeit more theoretically than practically, and at the same time think of “those raptures among the mountains, those delicacies of feeling, those scruples and sensitivity and remorses of his boyhood; and how they were all – the repentance for a bad action no less than the piercing delight in the spectacle of a flower or a landscape – in some way bound up with his sentiment for his mother, somehow rooted and implied in it”.64 That is why he turns to the opposite pole – “I’d wanted to do something decent”, he asserts, “and I’d been prevented. So it became a kind of point of honour to do the opposite of what I’d desired”.65 With a perverse ruthlessness he sets about destroying everything that in the least gives him joy and peace. A good instance of this perverse, meaningless destruction of himself is seen in that episode in which he takes an ugly, aged prostitute out.

58  Point Counter Point He has no particular reason for doing this except that “the superannuated punk was so gruesome”. In the midst of rich vegetation and fields of foxgloves, her refrains of “Oh too divine” and “Lovely, lovely” begin to jar, and after having shocked her with base descriptions of the “pleasingly phallic” flowers, he begins to lay about them with his stick, breaking the tall plants with each stroke. Connie is in tears; he only laughs. The reason for this vile murder? – Do you think I’m going to sit still and let myself be insulted? The insolence of the brutes [flowers]!66 This incident more serves as imagery than reality. The “insolence” of the flowers seems to be to remain proud and happy and innocent in a surrounding of ugliness, age, dirt, and baseness. Spandrell’s act is aimed not so much at murdering the beautiful; it is more an act of shocking virtue out of its complacency. Spandrell’s characteristic duality is best seen in the final incident of his life, which he plans with meticulous precision, and carries out with dogged resolution. The whole thing, of course, begins much earlier, in his conversation with Philip Quarles, who, astonished at Spandrell’s lifestyle of negation, inquires candidly, “If you’re so bored by it, if you hate it, why do you go on with life?” And Spandrell answers – Because I’m committed to it…Because that’s what life finally is  – hateful and boring…Because once one’s damned, one ought to damn oneself doubly. Because….yes, because I really like hating and feeling bored.67 Spandrell lives for vice. Once the quintessence of vice has been achieved, there remains nothing for him to live for. The very act of violating his essential being, of forcing himself to be what he is not, gives him a perverse sense of well-­being. That is why, after having broken all the commandments except the one forbidding a man to kill, he proceeds to do just that. There is only one commandment left to break. And there is less pleasure in breaking it one own self than in exhorting others to break it. He therefore picks on Illidge to join him in crime. Moreover, what better cause to kill than no cause at all? Having a reason to murder someone is as good as excusing oneself for the crime – which Spandrell will certainly not do. Meaningful crime has no attraction for him, because it spoils the general atmosphere of meaninglessness he has so painstakingly built up. Therefore, he chooses Webley as victim. After having worked Illidge up into a frenzy of heroic indignation against Webley the bourgeois, they plan to murder him. An opportunity is provided on a platter when Elinor, rushing away to see her sick child, asks Spandrell, the only person at hand, to tell Webley that she cannot meet him that

Point Counter Point 59 evening at her house. Instead of giving him the message, Spandrell with the help of Illidge, puts him to death. Characteristically Spandrell, after having taken pains to cover up every atom of the crime, after having befuddled all the intelligence agencies of London, chooses to surrender himself at the end. Again his action comes not as an outcome of compelling circumstances, but because of moral compulsions. At a casual meeting with Illidge and Quarles, he had discussed with them the inevitability of a man’s fate, and had come to the conclusion that “Everything that happens is intrinsically like the man it happens to”. In other words, fate works through the character, and it invariably suits the character concerned. After the murder, meeting Quarles again, now a newly bereaved father, he remembers that conversation – Do you remember that conversation we had at the Club, with Illidge and Walter Bidlake? Nothing ever happens to a man except what’s like him.68 The truth of this conversation has been through various incidents in the novel, already illustrated through Philip and Elinor, and Illidge and Walter. Spandrell himself has, through a terrible crime, attempted to get the better of fortune. He has failed. He has not been discovered, it is true, for his crime has been too perfect; but his soul will not allow him to live in peace. After having denied God in every possible way, he concludes now that – God was out there, outside, absolute. Else, how account for the efficacy of prayer – for it was efficacious; how escape providence and destiny? God was there, but hiding. Deliberately hiding….It was a matter of violently dragging him from outsideness and aboveness to insideness. But God was a joker.69 Spandrell had tried to go beyond the dustbins of life; he realizes that he has ended up in that dustbin himself – Dustbins had been his predestined lot. In giving him dustbins yet again, the providential joker was merely being consistent.70 He goes through his last suicidal move because “he had played the last card and lost”. Yet, this is not the last card; the last card remains, and that proves to be his trump card. He has already asserted that “music exists, even though you personally happen to be unmusical”. Now, in the background of “the famous proof of God’s existence and the superiority of Jesus’ morality” – Beethoven’s heilige Danksgesang – he plans his final swansong. To him it is the “beatific vision, it’s heaven” – the heaven

60  Point Counter Point he had denied himself all his life. His sole partners in the final act are Mark and Mary Rampion. They notice the effect this music has on him – His face was grave and serene, as though it had been smoothed by sleep or death. Yes, dead, thought Rampion as he looked at him.71 Immediately after, Spandrell goes out through the door to his death – at the hands of the British Freemen, whose leader he has murdered, and who had been called by him especially for this purpose. The celestial melody is now dying down in the room, fading away through long-­drawn notes, symbolizing the death of a man whose life could have been the melody it never became. The essential division in the mind of this character is shown by the circumstances of his death – he attains heaven even while he loses it; he imbibes the beauty of music even while he tries to destroy the rhythm of the universe; and he for the first time realizes the meaninglessness of his existence and puts an end to it. In this respect, even though he is a true exponent of Huxley’s philosophy of meaninglessness initially, he gradually becomes one of those rare characters who do their best to break away from this outlook. Spandrell’s character, thus is summed up by Rampion – He refuses to be a man. Not a man – either a demon or a dead angel. Now he’s dead.72 The point is that he is more an angel than a demon, for he dies to prevent himself from being the latter. First he killed his own soul to take revenge on his mother; he now kills his body to take revenge on himself for violating his soul. This is the reason, precisely, why Spandrell is different from the other diabolists in the rest of Huxley’s novels. He is a living illustration of what Mary Amberley had asserted in Eyeless in Gaza  – “I did what I didn’t want to do. One’s always doing things one doesn’t want  – stupidly, out of sheer perversity. One chooses the worst because it is the worst”.73 It is wrong to compare him with Coleman (Antic Hay) or Obispo (After Many a Summer), especially the former, as many have previously done. For instance, Harold J. Watts says, “Coleman the diabolist in Antic Hay is the first and effective sketch of the character of Spandrell in Point Counter Point. Both are English versions of Dostoevsky’s Stavrogin in The Possessed – a man who has put all moral norms behind him and has said, ‘Evil be thou my Good’”.74 Similarly, Peter Firchow compares him thus – While Spandrell’s philosophy bears certain similarities to that of Coleman in Antic Hay, it is presented very differently. Coleman’s blasphemy and debauchery are only briefly seen (through Rosie’s eyes) as something disgusting: for the most part his vigour and theatricality combine to make his views seem amusing….Spandrell is anything

Point Counter Point 61 but lively. Corrupt, slothful and bored, his wilfully negative attitude towards life finally leads him to a logical enough conclusion – suicide.75 No doubt Rampion calls Spandrell “a Stavrogin”, the man who said “Evil be thou my Good”. No doubt, too, that Coleman is such a person – a man who twists Christian piety to suit his own twisted lifestyle; a man who lives his life in a relationship of loathing; a man who takes delight in drawing others into his diseased world. Yet, Spandrell cannot be compared with Coleman for the simple reason that he is violating himself even while he is violating others. Coleman is committing no act of personal violation – he is irreparably a pervert, basically nauseating. Coleman is vile; Spandrell makes himself so. Spandrell, in fact, is the only character of his kind in Huxley, even though he can be linked with several others in certain peripheral features. Coleman accepts life in its viciousness; Spandrell rejects life, not only in its moral or wicked aspect but also in its physical aspect. *   *   * D.H. Lawrence, in a letter to Huxley in 1928, gave his opinions thus on some of the major characters of Point Counter Point – “I do think that art has to reveal the palpitating moment or the state of man as it is. And I do think you do that, terribly. But what a moment! And what a state! If you can only palpitate to murder, suicide, rape in their various degrees  – and you state plainly that it is so  – however are we to live through the days? Preparing still another murder, suicide, rape? …I can’t stand murder, suicide, rape – especially rape: and especially being raped…All I want to do to your Lucy is to smack her across the mouth; your Rampion is the most boring character in the book – a gas-­bag. Your attempt at intellectual sympathy! Its all rather disquieting….” And this from one of Huxley’s most lasting friends. It is common knowledge that Lawrence did not much approve of his own portrait as Rampion. It is his idea of Lucy that is interesting. Lawrence detests rape, and that is exactly what Lucy seems to enjoy! Of all the characters in Point Counter Point, Lucy is the one who is the most thorough portrait of the philosophy of meaninglessness which Huxley wishes to examine in his novels. All the other characters may be regarded as products of this philosophy. Lucy is its exponent, its preacher. Spandrell is a rebel; Walter a prey to it; Quarles cynical; Rampion disgusted; Burlap hypocritical. None of the women, apart from Lucy’s mother, has even the slightest inclination towards a life of meaningless merriment, and even she at least had the daunting task of managing Lord Tantamount’s household and at the same time carrying on her affair with John Bidlake. It is only Lucy, therefore, who is born

62  Point Counter Point rich, has no particular aim in life, and seems to devote all her time to avoiding boredom and having pleasure. She will even spend her time with a woman in order to avoid loneliness – “The dread of solitude was chronic to her….In desperation, Lucy even appealed to the woman of the party”76 – in this case, Mary Rampion, at Sbisa’s. She cannot bear to be left alone for a single moment – epitomizing the basic loneliness of the woman of the twenties, having no particular aim in life, only the perpetual presence of chatter can shelve off the emptiness and void that lies at the base of such an existence. In this respect, people like Lucy can even be pitied, because in a way they are rather pathetic in their single-­minded pursuit of pleasure. “I merely try to amuse myself”, says Lucy – and that is all her life is about, for all her attempts are in vain. She adds immediately – “God knows, without much success”. She knows that pleasure hunting can never be a fulfilling endeavour, but she knows no other way out. She tells Spandrell one day – Let me know if you ever stop chattering and do something. It might be lively. Spandrell replies – Deathly, if anything. – But the deathly sort of liveliness is the most lively, really. I’m so sick of the ordinary, conventional kinds of liveliness. Youth at the prow, and pleasure at the helm. You know. It’s silly, it’s monotonous.77 Indeed, as far as the novel goes, Lucy says or does very little outside her “siren” image. The men and women around her speak very much the same thing about her. She has too little depth to discourse at length on any matter, even on her own lifestyle; and her conversations border very much the same issues. She neither speaks nor acts outside the character in which she is set, and after she has served her purpose, she is packed off to France, from where she is not seen to return. From the beginning of the novel, we hear and see Lucy as a man-­ snarer. Walter Bidlake, like many others before him, is passionately attracted to her; indeed so much, as to wilfully neglect his pregnant wife, Marjorie. No doubt, Marjorie is insipid, affected, and irritating – as we know not only from Walter’s biased opinions but also from more detached sources like the Rampions, Old Bidlake, and Elinor. But that does not explain his almost slavish behaviour towards Lucy, who basks in his worship, and treats him like she would a dog – She smiled and shook her head. Why did he implore like that? Why was he so abject? The fool, the whipped dog!

Point Counter Point 63 “Please, please!” he begged. But he should have commanded. He should simply have ordered the man to drive on, and taken her in his arms again. “Impossible”, said Lucy and stepped out of the cab. If he behaved like a whipped dog, he could be treated like one.78 Like the well-­placed woman of the twenties Lucy’s life is centred on meaninglessness; and also like the woman of the twenties, she believes in holding her own among men. Woman’s liberation was gaining ground, and feminist movements found an increasing following among upper-­class women who had both the leisure and the money to involve themselves thus. The sixties saw the peak of this movement, which spread to the remotest recesses of society, but in the twenties, it gained in popularity in the higher circles. Lucy, therefore, as such a representative woman, likes not only equality with men, but even to lord it over them if such a chance comes by. Even small incidents – such as that of her “Uncle John” using her as an excuse to get a meal for himself  – raise her defences, so intent is she on not allowing any man, young or old, to get the better of her – “She objected to being dominated, to following instead of leading”.79 She hates people doing what she does not want them to do, and is thus inordinately peeved when her companions leave her alone at Sbisa’s, breaking up the gathering for the day. She, moreover, prefers to do the paying if she goes out with a man, asserting her individuality and independence in the process. Boarding a taxi with Spandrell as companion, she insists on paying – Lucy insisted, when she was with men, on doing as much of the paying as possible. Paying, she was independent; she could call her own tune.80 Another time with Walter, she even tries to go against her own desires in order to assert her own supremacy. Under the onslaught of Walter’s passion, she feels herself submitting, being carried away. Yet she resists – Why shouldn’t she abandon herself? It was only rather humiliating to be carried away, to be compelled instead of to choose. Her pride, her will resisted him, resisted her own desire.81 Lucy, however, even while establishing herself as the liberated woman, does submit sometimes. And if she is brought upon to submit, she does so to a man who is capable of prevailing upon her will – in other words, to a man who behaves like a “man”. That is why she cannot deny Old Bidlake – her “Uncle John” – any favours, and even condescends to comment favourably about him – The old really aren’t possible, except your father, Walter. He’s perfect. Really perfect. The only possible old man.82

64  Point Counter Point Likewise, as long as Walter grovels at her feet, she feels that “he deserves to be maltreated”. The moment he forces her to make love with him, she finds herself not only giving in to him but also positively enjoying it. She can even enjoy rape (with which Walter threatens her if she refuses to respond to his love-­making) if it is dealt by a suitably importunate man. This, of course, is quite contradictory, for a woman who takes so much pride in her independence, should be inveighing against any form of rape whatsoever. This fact probably hints at the basic rottenness of the very concept of feminism – that a woman psychologically is the passive partner, at least where sexual relationships are concerned. This trait in Lucy is taken to its logical extreme at the end where, while in France, she has a torrid affair with a veritable macho of a man – “Very black with olive skin, rather Roman, no taller than I”. She very readily submits to him after he “came at [her] as though he was going to kill [her] with clenched teeth”. Her comment is as follows – Martyrdom is exciting. Letting oneself be hurt, humiliated, used like a doormat – queer. I like it. Besides, the doormat uses the user.83 She will willingly become the doormat when she feels like it. And she does not hesitate to relate her experience with this olive-­skinned macho in detail to her previous lover, Walter. Moralists may accuse her of cruelty, as may also immoralists like Spandrell. But in her scheme of things there are no such feelings involved, because she never professes any lasting attraction in the first place. One may accuse her of any number of vices (if in her scheme of things there is any such thing as “vice”). But, whatever the accusation, she is quite beyond the charge of hypocrisy. If Walter suffers, he suffers because of his own misplaced worship of Lucy as his dream-­woman – Tenderness can only live in an atmosphere of tenderness. To have gone on believing, as the old Walter had believed, that she was hard, selfish, incapable of warm feeling, would have killed the soft tenderness of the new Walter. It was essential for him to believe her tender. He did his best to deceive himself. Every movement of languor and abandonment was eagerly interpreted by him as a symptom of inner softening, of trustfulness and surrender. Every loving word  – and Lucy was fashionably free with her “darlings” and “angels” and “beloveds”, her rapturous and complimentary phrases – was treasured as a word come straight from the heart.84 Even in the midst of such tenderness Lucy has the grace to protest her inability to live up to his dream opinion of her – Lucy was surprised, touched, almost put to shame by this passion of tenderness.

Point Counter Point 65 “No I’m not like that, not like that”, she protested in answer to his whispered adorations. She could not accept such love on false pretences.85 Where Walter is concerned, however, the question of love invariably arises. “Do you love me?” – he asks repeatedly, even though he knows that she does not. She beats around the bush for some time, and then gives her answer – “Love? It’s rather a big word, isn’t it?” “Then why did you have me?” he asks. Her reply is candid and honest – “Why? Because it amused me. Because I wanted to”. In fact, she has a very real doubt whether there is any such thing as love at all – But if I can have what I want without it, why should I put it in? And besides, one doesn’t put it in. It happens to one. How rarely! Or perhaps it never happens; I don’t know.86 Looking at the sleeping Walter beside her, and admiring his features, her thoughts are characteristic – “What a fool! Why do people make themselves miserable instead of taking the fun that comes to them?” That is why she cannot be blamed for Walter’s misery at the end when she decides to drop him once and for all and choose the exotic man she happens to come across in Madrid. Neither can she be blamed when she indignantly writes her last letter to him thus – Insufferable, your letter. Once and for all, I refuse to be cursed at or whined at; I simply won’t be reproached, or condemned. I do what I like, and I don’t admit anybody’s right to call my doings into question….If my changing my mind has put you to any inconvenience, I am sorry. But I’m not in the least apologetic for having changed my mind, and if you think your howlings and jealousies make me feel sorry for you, you’re much mistaken. They’re intolerable, they’re inexcusable.87 Logically, Walter is more to blame for his own misery than is Lucy. She is nevertheless condemned, not for being the cause of his suffering, but for the kind of life that she chooses to live. Most of the characters of this novel are in agreement with the critics of Huxley and of Lucy, and we have more or less a similar opinion from all those who choose to comment on her. Rampion, the critical touchstone of the novel, is quite untouched by her charms – These professional sirens! He thought. She left him entirely cold, she repelled him.88 When Rampion is disgusted with someone, he is quite blind to the virtues that may be overlooked by this dislike. He therefore marks Lucy out

66  Point Counter Point as a disgustingly promiscuous female, a caricature in which there is an overdose of body with no heart or spirit. Philip Quarles is close behind with another similar metaphor – Lucy, as usual, was the French tricolour; blue round the eyes, a scarlet mouth, and the rest dead white against a background of shiny metal-­black hair. I made some sort of a joke. She laughed, opening her mouth  – and her tongue and gums were so much paler than the paint on her lips that they seemed (it gave me a creepy shock of astonished horror) quite bloodless and white by contrast. And then, without transition, I was standing in front of those sacred crocodiles in the palace gardens of Jaipur, and the Indian guide was throwing them bits of meat, and the inside of the animals’ mouths were lined with a slightly glace cream-­coloured kid.89 The bloodlessness, which is so often mentioned in the context of Lucy’s complexion, obviously suggests her hardness of character and the lack of human emotions in her dealings with people. Lucy’s mother, Lady Edward, calls her a “leprechaun” – a disguised fairy taking on various appearances in order to ensnare people. Of course, there is no criticism implied in her opinion, but she has read her daughter correctly enough. This “wicked fairy” image is also echoed by Spandrell, who quite hails her indifference to any kind of moral scruples – “A bad angel”, he says, “a born bad angel”. The only person, apart from Walter, who has anything positive to say about her, is Molly d’Exergillod, and that too for all the reasons for which the others vehemently denounce her – No, I must say, I like Lucy. I like the way she floats through life instead of trudging. I like the way she flits from flower to flower…. Doing a good deal of damage to the flowers, I must admit. But getting nothing but fun out of it for herself. I must say, I rather envy her. I wish I were a fairy and could float.90 What is common to all these opinions is their emphasis on “badness” as compared to “goodness”. What we shall wish to assert is that moral concerns are not at all relevant where Lucy is concerned. Her easy, friendly relationship with Spandrell, and her previous love-­ affair with him, may suggest her affinity with the Prince of Darkness, and Spandrell’s thoughts even border on this similarity at times  – “I’m like you,” he tells her, “I need victims”. Yet, when he comments on her being a “bad angel”, she replies – For an intelligent man, Maurice, you talk a lot of drivel. Do you genuinely believe that some things are right and some wrong?91

Point Counter Point 67 And Spandrell merely changes his metaphor from an angel to a fairy – Dear Lucy,” he said, “you’re magnificent. And you must never bury your talents. Well done, thou good and faithful succubus!….Go on doing your duty as you’ve already done it. That’s all Heaven asks of you.92 Lucy’s duty, therefore, would be to establish the cause of evil, to ensnare men and lead them into vice – as she does to Walter. The fact, however, lies in her earlier remark – that to her there is actually no difference between right and wrong. In this respect, she may be seen as a worthy product of the age of Einstein and Freud – that the concepts of right and wrong are so relative that they barely exist. In her system of philosophy, there may also be traced a strain of Darwinian materialism – that the fittest will survive (like herself), while the weak will suffer (like Marjorie). Morality, again, does not enter the picture at all. Unlike Spandrell, she does not doggedly follow the path of evil consciously. Her vices emerge naturally from her sole aim – that of “merely amusing herself”. In fact, she will even ignore her own feelings and wishes in order to pursue this aim, and the effects of this on the lives of others mean almost nothing to her. Such a life of unabated pleasure hunting is also the end and aim of the other true representative of the Twenties – Old John Bidlake. He is different from Lucy in an important aspect – he has a particular occupation, a profession, which takes up much of his thoughts and time. Lucy’s life is one long journey of meaningless pleasure. Bidlake at least has something to do; work for which he is widely praised and acclaimed. However, even in his work Bidlake is part of overall atmosphere of nothingness that has infected the life of Huxley’s decade. His paintings give an impression of body only, without mind or heart, and that remains their only fault. The affinity with Lucy, however, remains true in his self-­centred pleasure seeking, even at the cost of human feelings or relationships. Together with this, we have the other pole – the counterpoint to John Bidlake – Philip Quarles, who is composed entirely intellectually. Both, of course, in the words of Rampion, are “perverts” because neither is complete or fulfilled. Quarles is poised on one extreme, Bidlake on the other. Yet, unlike Quarles, Bidlake has the power to live life to the full, precisely because he lives on the level of the flesh. Philip Quarles, because of his superior intellect, manages to be more a commentator on life than a player in it. Bidlake comments less, lives more. Perhaps that is why Bidlake is one who theorizes very little in the novel. Just as Quarles talks more because it is his mind that is working and not his body, so Bidlake, living almost entirely on the physical plane, acts more, some of which actions are even symbolic at times. Dialogue is an essential part of a character, especially in Huxley, and if he is not dumb he will certainly converse, and consequently express himself. In the case

68  Point Counter Point of Bidlake, his dialogues with Lady Edward and the members of his family no doubt serve the purpose, but not being an intellectual, he has no access to long discourses explaining his views on life. He does have something to say, however, and he says it through the medium which is the least intellectual and the most sense-­dependent – painting. It would be an over-­generalization, and a little far-­fetched to assert that painting is only another form of discourse, but in John Bidlake’s case it certainly is. In this respect he is qualitatively different from Rampion in whom painting only illustrates or boosts his discursive lectures. To Rampion, too, painting is another form of intellectual activity, for almost all his paintings are either didactic or symbolic. To Bidlake, however, painting is a part of his being, and like his speech and actions, it is integrated into his daily life. Unlike Rampion, his pictures are not interpreted by himself, but by those who see them, according to their individual viewpoints. Whatever he has to say, he says through his art, and his pictures are as much a reflection of himself as anything else. Indeed, it is important that in spite of being one of the leading artists of his time, John Bidlake hates music and never loses an opportunity to make fun of it. This actuality serves to emphasize his physicality because he is entirely unequipped to appreciate the most emotional and affective of art forms. In fact, he makes no pretences regarding this aversion, rather – He could afford to be frank. When one can paint as well as John Bidlake, why should one pretend to like music, when in fact one doesn’t?93 The first time we are introduced to Bidlake’s paintings is at one of Lady Edward’s parties, and this introduction to his art comes almost simultaneously with the introduction to the artist himself  – as though the two are inseparable. The picture in question is the third and finest of his series on Bathers, which hangs conspicuously in the dining room of Tantamount House. It is a gay and joyous painting of eight “plump and pearly bathers” (Bidlake has an irreverent liking for plump women), whose bodies form a garland in the water. The landscape in the background is a fit backdrop for the bathers – it is “softly swelling downland and clouds”. The most conspicuous aspect of the picture is its sensuousness. Even the smiling faces are no more than merely smiling faces with “not a trace of spirit to distract you from the contemplation of the lovely forms and their relations”. Now old and with fading powers, he is standing, contemplating this picture, and praising it (like Jonathan Swift on his death-­bed, re-­reading his Tale of a Tub and exclaiming – “What genius I had when I wrote that book!”) – It’s good,” he said, “it’s enormously good. Look at the way it’s composed. Perfect balance, and yet there is no suggestion of repetition or artificial arrangement.94

Point Counter Point 69 He keeps to the technical aspects of the picture, skilfully avoiding the essential details of the women, until he can ignore them no longer, and then concentrates on “the figure with the arms up” – Incarnation of beauty, incarnation of stupidity and vulgarity. A goddess as long as she was naked, kept her mouth shut, or had it kept shut for her with kisses.95 It is as though this figure is also the incarnation of Bidlake’s opinion of women; an opinion which is not at all very flattering. A renowned womaniser, he can never look beyond their flesh or the pleasure this flesh can provide. In fact, the more brainless the woman is, the better, with the exception, of course, of Hilda Tantamount, whom he had enjoyed previously as a mistress, and whose company he now enjoys as a friend. But generally he prefers to “paint his bathers unmasked as well as naked, to give them faces that [are] merely extensions of their charming bodies, and not deceptive symbols of a non-­existent spirituality”. Ironically, though we hear of Bidlake being one of the foremost painters of the age, we have a full description of only one of the paintings of his glorious days – the Bathers. On the other hand, Rampion’s paintings, though not as perfect as Bidlake’s, get far more attention. This indeed points to the fact that it is the subject matter of the latter which deserves the importance afforded to it. Rampion always has something to say. Bidlake’s paintings invariably portray only one side of the human being, and whatever the picture might be, it affords the same view of humanity. The description of one painting is therefore sufficient in the case of Bidlake. One other painting of Old Bidlake does get some attention, however, but in a totally different context. He is old now, his powers have faded, and probably the supreme cause of his failure to produce anything creative is his obsession with himself – his age and health – his traitorous bowels and failing eyesight. At the insistence of his wife he does one day set himself down to draw and recovers for an instant those gifts he has now lost. The result is a work not unlike the voluptuous beauty of the Bathers – The landscape was all curves and bulges and round recessions, like a body. Orbism, by God, orbism! The clouds were cherubic backsides; and that sleek down was a Nereid’s glaucous belly; and Gattenden Punch-­Bowl was an enormous navel; and each of those elms in the middle distance was a paunchy great Silenus, straight out of Jordaens; and these absurd round bushes of evergreen in the foreground were the multitudinous breasts of a green Diana of the Ephesians. Whole chunks of anatomy in leaves and vapour and swelling earth. Marvellous! And by God, what one could make of it! Those seraphic buttocks should be the heavenly reflection of Diana’s breasts….96

70  Point Counter Point – etc. The joy that he absorbs from the female anatomy is unique because there is no intellect or emotion attached here. “Orbism” is the name he gives to it, and it suits the effect completely. It is also to be noticed that when other people comment on John Bidlake, they evaluate him only in connection with his art  – so integrated is he with his painting. His exploits with women meet with some raised eyebrows, no doubt, but this more or less balanced by an admiration of the artist in him. Young people regard him with awe mixed with curiosity. The dialogue between Polly Logan and Nora, for example, runs as follows – “Who’s that old man with Lucy?” Polly Logan enquired as they passed. “That’s old Bidlake.’ “Bidlake? The man who….painted the pictures?” Polly spoke hesitatingly. In the tone of one who is conscious of a hole in her education, and is afraid of making a ridiculous mistake. “Do you mean that Bidlake? …I always thought he was an Old Master. But he must be about a hundred by this time, isn’t he? …. “He’s had about fifteen wives”, said Nora.97 Lucy, the “new” woman, does indeed have certain ideological questions to ask of him – Speaking as a woman, I mean. Do you really find us so profoundly silly as you paint us?98 This question, made by an intelligent woman, is corroborated by one just as silly  – Mrs. Mary Betterton, who had once been his mistress. The irrepressible Bidlake in answer, simply asserts in words what he had all along been doing in colour – that he had never known a woman who had anything worth having beyond a pair of legs and a figure; that their appearances are entirely deceptive as to the amount of brains they actually possess, that his bathers “are unmasked as well as naked”; and that he prefers to be realistic rather than romantic. Mrs. Betterton is left wondering – “Strange that a great artist should be such a cynic”. Burlap is one of Bidlake’s more vehement critics, and he too is more interested in the artist’s work than his colourful life – How can a cynic be a great artist? ….A great artist is a man who synthesizes all experience. The cynic sets out by denying half the facts  – the facts of the soul, the fact of ideals, the fact of God.

Point Counter Point 71 And yet we are aware of spiritual facts just as directly and indubitably as we are of physical facts.99 Yet even he acknowledges Bidlake’s artistic talent – He may handle his limited subject-­matter very well. Bidlake, I grant you, does. Extraordinarily well. He has all the sheer ability of the most consummate artists.100 No doubt Burlap, the hypocrite, is unaware of these “spiritual” facts everywhere except in speech. In fact, he is one of those most given to clandestine physical satisfaction, as opposed to Bidlake’s frank, healthy passion. As such, one may not attach much importance to his criticism of Bidlake’s sensuality. But the one who most emphasizes the synthesis between the physical and the spiritual – Mark Rampion – positively envies Bidlake’s genius. He openly admits of this to Quarles – By God, how marvellously your father-­in-­law could paint flesh in open air! Amazing! Nobody’s done it better. Not even Renoir. I wish I had his gifts.101 Opinions differ widely on Bidlake’s art, and his fame and genius themselves are a tacit apology for the kind of life he leads. Bidlake’s appearance and behaviour too are as living embodiments of his colourful expressions. He is “handsome, huge, exuberant, careless; a great laugher, a great worker, a great eater, drinker, and taker of virginities”. He is imposing enough to arouse the passions of a woman of Lady Tantamount’s standards, and remain her friend for the rest of his life. He is robust and passionate, but sincere and candid with his opinions about a woman’s body. “Painting’s a branch of sensuality,” he says, “Nobody can paint a nude who hasn’t learn the human body by heart with his hands and his lips and his own body. I take my art seriously”.102 Painting is his life; love a necessary enjoyment which he prefers to keep casual. He values his freedom, and has no patience whatsoever with women who believe in lasting love relationships. To those who read more in his temporary passions than he intends, he is ruthlessly cruel. Yet, whatever his faults, he is an avowed enemy of all kinds of pretension. This particular trait is hilariously evident in Lady Edward’s parties where all the most pretentious aristocrats assemble – Bidlake was in ecstasies of merriment. He had echoed the poor lady’s every gesture as she made it….He had repeated her gesture of regret, grotesquely magnifying it until it expressed a ludicrous despair…. “I told you so”, he whispered, and his whole face was crinkled with suppressed laughter. “It’s like being in a deaf and dumb asylum. Or talking to pygmies in Central Africa!”103

72  Point Counter Point In his old age, Bidlake is still big, broad, and robust, but now his health has got the better of him, and he can think more of his bowels now than his art. Not that he had ever thought of anything apart from his immediate pleasures, but his painting had been included among his pleasures at that time. He is one of those people who are incapable of growing old gracefully. His health has deteriorated; his work equally so. Yet his life is now a ceaseless revolt against this change. Sometimes he challenges old age openly – “After all, everything I do is good; damned good even”. This, in the narrator’s words, is “a bidding of defiance to the stupid critics who have seen a falling off in his later paintings; a challenge to his own past, to time and old age, to the real John Bidlake who had painted real Jenny and kissed her into silence”. That is why, in spite of his apparent contempt for critics, he is deeply flustered on reading two contemporary press opinions about his present art. He realizes that though the tone differs, both are a dig at his fading powers. The one in the Daily Mail calls him “a veteran of English art”, which he interprets as “poor old Bidlake”; and the second frankly criticizes the physicality of his paintings – It is difficult to believe that works so cheap and flashy – ineffectively flashy, at that – as those collected in the present exhibition should have been produced by the painter of the Tate Gallery Haymakers and the still more magnificent Bathers, now at Tantamount House. In these empty and trivial pictures we look in vain for those qualities of harmonious balance, of rhythmic calligraphy, of three-­ dimensional plasticity.104 He realizes that “the only difference between favourable and hostile criticism” is that “the one said brutally in so many words what the other implied in its patronizing compliment”. Perhaps the only person who really understands him is Lady Tantamount, and to a certain extent, Elinor, his daughter. When Hilda enquires about his health, he cannot even get up to receive her, so swathed is he in terror of stories about disease and death, emanating from the doctor’s vaguely professional words about “slight obstruction in the neighbourhood of the pylorus”. Imagination supplies the rest – He was thinking of death, death in the form of a new life growing and growing in his belly, like an embryo in a womb. The only thing fresh and active in his old body, the one thing exuberantly and increasing alive was death.105 This obsession with his own death is ironically projected by fate into the death of Everard Webley, a young man, which he hears of from the papers; and of little Phil, his grandson, which he witnesses at first hand.

Point Counter Point 73 The irony lies in the fact that he who is witnessing and fearing death every moment of his life, escapes it, while those who are young and are least expecting death are killed off suddenly and meaninglessly. Ironically too, it is as if the death of somebody else injects new life into the old body of John Bidlake. The news of the death of Webley, for instance, had come to him through the evening papers, when little Phil is lying upstairs in a serious condition. Bidlake is so excited at the news of the death of another, that he entirely forgets the preoccupation with his own. Rejuvenated, he rushes out, waving the paper and calling out to Philip in a voice which has suddenly recovered its past resonance and vitality. In the case of little Phil his reactions are mixed. He is fond of the child in his own peculiar manner, and, having noticed a budding artistic talent in him, he has always proceeded to see that it is developed according to his wishes – On no account is the child to be taught how to draw, in the art-­ school sense of the word. On no account. I don’t want him to be ruined.106 Yet, after Phil’s illness, he cannot bear to hear any allusions to the child’s indisposition and conscientiously avoids the sickroom. This is connected with his terror of sickness and death on one hand and his “talent for private superstitions” on the other. Somehow he has secretly decided that the child’s fate is bound up with his own; that if the child recovers, so will he. Yet, ironically, it is at this time, when little Phil is in the throes of death, that Bidlake paints again, for the first time after his arrival at Gattenden. The painting is no doubt a reiteration of his worship of the woman’s body; a practical example of what he calls “orbism”, yet it is actually a sign of old Bidlake coming back to life. He believes his own recovery to be related to the child’s; yet, the child moves progressively closer to death, while Bidlake, mentally at least, gains new life. Childhood is sacrificed at the altar of life. Ultimately, of course, “the slight obstruction at the pylorus” overcomes the old man’s joy in the “juicy and succulent landscape”, and he takes to bed just at the time when little Phil dies. *   *   * John Bidlake may be an incomplete artist, but he is doubtless a genuine artist. In the typically Huxleyan counterpoint method this true artist is juxtaposed with the pseudo-­artist, Burlap. Again, Burlap’s role in the action is miniscule, for he does practically nothing; his role in the idea is immense, for he says plenty, and has other people commenting profusely on his opinions and actions. We are introduced to him in a conversation with Mary Betterton in one of Lady Tantamount’s parties, and initially we are led to believe him as a highly moral, religious, thoughtful

74  Point Counter Point gentleman, who takes his social duties seriously. He, along with Mr. Betterton, criticizes cynical artists in general, and Bidlake in particular, is especially worried about the narrowness of Bidlake’s themes, and intermittently adds comments on social duty in between his comments, such as – “One has responsibilities….The lamp mustn’t be hid under a bushel. One must let it shine, especially on people of goodwill”. Or – Yes, she’s on the side of the angels, he was thinking; she needs encouraging. One has a responsibility.107 Huxley, however, in the case of Burlap, carefully builds up our opinion only to destroy it later. And this technique is all the more suited to Burlap’s character because of his cultivated duality, which may be known in more vulgar circles as plainly shameless hypocrisy. Bidlake may have emphasized the flesh above all other human attributes, but never once in Huxley’s treatment of him do we feel that he is an instrument of social decadence, so sincere is the Old Man in his artistic expression. Rather, he has a point when he asserts that physical diversions are less harmful than bull-­fighting, gladiatorial shows or public executions. Bidlake’s candidness is his virtue. In the case of Burlap, however, we come across an entirely different “artist” of the literary world, who is respected for his noble ideas of human life and duty, but whose private life speaks of a degradation entirely alien to healthy physicality of the kind that John Bidlake expresses. Whether Burlap is modelled on John Middleton Murry or not is a question not very relevant here. Indeed, the incidents chosen in connection with Burlap are very similar to those connected with Murry – be these incidents actual or hearsay. Murry himself had recognized the caricature, and had been deeply hurt, at one time even being tempted to challenge Huxley to a duel on the basis of this portrait. The point in this study is not to search for real-­life parallels, but to show the decadence of the Twenties being reflected in the characters through an expression of their ideas. In this role Burlap leads the show, being one up on Lucy, who is, with all her faults, quite genuine about her beliefs and her way of life. The initial impression of Burlap as an admirable and honest gentleman is only too soon corroded, as soon as Walter Bidlake, an employee of Burlap, enters the room. “Such a wonderful man!” Mary Betterton gushes. Walter, knowing Burlap for what he is, can only answer – “He is a very good editor” – which is only a roundabout way of saying that he is not so good a man. Mrs. Betterton will not give up so easily – “But I was thinking of his personality. How shall I say? The spiritual quality of the man”.

Point Counter Point 75 Walter, being well aware of the spiritual quality which Burlap exudes, is not at all very enthusiastic about it, and attempts a quick escape. Burlap’s exploits with Beatrice Gilray are recounted quite early in the novel, for that is the relationship which serves as the point of exposure for this well-­established editor and writer. All we know of Beatrice before she actually appears is from the conversation between Walter and Peter Slipe (one of those choric characters which Huxley so often employs), who tell us that “she insists on being kind in her way, and she pecks if you don’t like it. Pecking’s part of the kindness”; and that “Beatrice has a nigger sitting on the safety valve”. She, we subsequently realize, is terrified of love and sex, and is inordinately suspicious of men who attempt to bring her into those forbidden areas. Burlap’s ingenuity lies in succeeding in bringing such a woman into a sexual relationship with himself, and gaining her trust at the same time. He has certain mannerisms in speech and behaviour which to the inexperienced appear boyish, innocent, and disarming. He has, for example, an astonishingly childish habit of using schoolboy slang while speaking – “Well, it was most awfully sweet of you”, he tells Beatrice. Or – ‘“Pax, pax”, he begged, reverting to the vocabulary of his preparatory school.’108 This habit, of course, is the outcome of Burlap’s attempt to appear young and unspoilt, especially to the opposite sex. Indeed, even apart from this use of slang, much of his behaviour consists of his donning the cloak of childishness, which usually succeeds in charming young novices, and disgusting those who have become habituated to his innocent exterior, and have subsequently had a taste of his not-­so-­childish interior. Beatrice, of course, is the biggest fool of the first kind, and there are others like Mrs. Betterton who mistake his make-­believe for the real thing. In the second group are those with a certain amount of good sense  – Walter, Quarles, and the Rampions. Also among these people is Ethel Cobbett, originally his greatest admirer, now his greatest critic. The cultivated childishness of Burlap’s disposition is nowhere put to so effective a use as in his handling of Beatrice Gilray. To a woman as “terrified of being pawed about, of being even touched”, the disarmingly innocent behaviour of Burlap is itself the first step to bringing down her defences – “You look like little Miss Muffet sitting on her tuffet”, said Burlap at last. Beatrice smiled. “Luckily there’s no big spider. “Thanks for the compliment if it is one”. “Yes it is,” said Beatrice. That was the really delightful thing about Denis, she reflected; he was so trustworthy….That was the

76  Point Counter Point wonderful thing about Denis Burlap; he was so reassuringly not a pouncer or a pawer.109 The next step is to make her sorry for him. So he reminisces about his wife, who has been dead for nearly two years. So involved is he in working up an atmosphere of pathos, that it brings the tears into his own eyes, and leads Beatrice into pitying him sincerely – But he was like a child himself. Like a poor unhappy child. Leaning forward she drew her fingers caressingly along the back of his limply hanging hand.110 Of course she had been warned, and by no other than Ethel Cobbett, a woman who has learnt it all the hard way. She had at first been attracted to Burlap because of his apparent loyalty to Susan’s memory, and she had actually believed this “platonic spirituality” to be real. She herself had fallen in love with him, but had continually struggled against this love in order to prevent herself from betraying the memory of her dead friend. Burlap had taken advantage of Ethel’s feelings to the utmost. Not being in love with her himself, he had done nothing to damage his high spiritual reputation where she was concerned. Instead, calculating that women in love will do everything for the object of their love for practically nothing, he had maintained his image, while Ethel had done the work of three secretaries and an office boy. He had continued to change his bedmates all this while, the news of some of which had managed to reach the ears of Ethel Cobbett. She had ended up in loving him and resenting his betrayal at the same time. The installation of Beatrice Gilray in the editorial department had increased her resentment, and she had lost no opportunity of digging at Burlap’s character whenever Beatrice was around. Beatrice now, continually exposed to such warnings and snide remarks, reacts quite differently to what Ethel expects. Instead of opening her eyes to the reality of Burlap, she ends up in disliking her colleague intensely, and even complains about her to her employer – “She’s really insufferable!” Burlap’s martyr-­like countenance is put on at once, and he piously excuses Ethel, making Beatrice admire him even more in the process – “She’s difficult. But one’s sorry for her. She’s had a hard life”. The subsequent attitude of Burlap is purposely donned to give the impression that he had employed Ethel out of charity. Beatrice is left feeling both admiration and pity for this wonderful man who has to put up with such an ungrateful world. His “kindness” towards Ethel continues to make her increasingly tender and maternal towards Denis, and, feeling that he is so good that he needs somebody to look after him, she takes that responsibility upon herself. Noticing his bad cough, she volunteers to rub him down with camphorated oil and wad of Thermogene.

Point Counter Point 77 Never having been so close to a man before, she is at first a little afraid and also a little repelled. Burlap, however, seems like a child to her, self-­ surrendering and helpless; and like a child, innocently, he cuddles up to her, puts his head on her breast – “the forehead of a tired child on the soft breast of its mother”. She tucks him up into bed, and on his demand, kisses him goodnight. A few weeks pass in a child-­like habit of sitting on the floor at her feet. His head against her knee, sipping hot milk. Never once does he overtly show any sexual attraction. Never, until one day he wants her “motherly” comfort under the bedclothes, and innocently, spiritually, seeks her desires out. After that, their relationship has a different story to tell, even though the childlike caresses remain. On the other hand, Ethel Cobbett is proving too big a nuisance for his safe existence as “St. Francis”, with her rather risky ability to read him inside out. So, when she is out on her holiday, she is given her marching orders, for his courage does not permit him to dismiss her to her face – “These things are easier to do by post than face to face”. He is not unduly perturbed, too, when as a result of this, he does actually get rid of her permanently; for soon after receiving this letter of dismissal, she writes him a twelve-­page answer, and extinguishes her own life. The letter he is too scared to read, and after putting it into the fire, he and Beatrice has a bath together – “like two little children sitting at opposite ends of the big old-­fashioned bath”. No doubt Burlap serves a purpose other than being the crocodile of the novel. In the overall system of point and counterpoint he is placed in juxtaposition to real childhood and real innocence, as opposed to pretended innocence and sullied childhood. This theme of the falsification of childhood has been very well discussed by John Atkins in Aldous Huxley – A Literary Study, where the author finds ironic parallels between true innocence and falsified innocence, as epitomized through little Phil and Burlap. Huxley is not one to treat childhood lightly, and though there are few children in his novels, whenever they do appear, they are shown with much understanding and admiration. Little Phil is loved primarily because he is so innocent. Yet, when this innocence is donned by Burlap, it becomes disgusting  – for innocence cannot be acquired. When little Phil dies it is piteous, for he dies without knowing or fearing death. Yet, death does not come to those who fear it the most – Old Bidlake or Simon Quarles. It is not childhood that is held up to ridicule in Point Counter Point; it is the apology for childhood as epitomized in Burlap that becomes disgusting. There is also a huge difference between “childish” and “childlike”, the former being more an object of satire and admonition than anything else. Childishness suggests immaturity, blunt sensibilities, underdeveloped reason. Old Bidlake is childish when he superstitiously touches wood at the least opportunity, whenever he wishes luck to favour him. His fear of death is not very different from a child’s fear of the dark. Even more childish is the disposition of Old

78  Point Counter Point Mr. Quarles, who, in spite of his disgusting sexual adventures, is a man whose intelligence has not developed beyond a certain age. Some of this is reflected in the slobbering lisp of his speech – A babah? Surely not a babah! Or – I should have been unhappah to die when you were at the other end of the wahld.111 – and also in the ridiculous attempt at greatness, like in writing a book. All kinds of contraptions like the “enormous apparatus of card-­indexes”, steel filing-­cabinets, a portable typewriter, and a Dictaphone for writing the book have been procured, but the book never does get written. Such stunted sensibilities speak of a childishness which is pointedly juxtaposed against innocent childhood – little Phil, his grandson. Old Bidlake and Old Quarles are in perpetual fear of death. Old Bidlake is genuinely afraid; Old Quarles poses fear to draw attention away from his sexual lapses. It is, however, little Phil who dies, without ever knowing about death, without ever fearing it. The old generation suffers death in life; the child must die in innocence to illustrate the essential pathos of their situation. Yet, whatever Bidlake’s faults, he at least is genuine. That is why his opinion of Simon Quarles is the final word about the latter’s character. Old Quarles is probably the only person in the novel who has nobody to put a good word in for him  – not even his son. Gladys calls him “a red egg” and “a filthy old beast”; Philip thinks of him as “damned fool”; Elinor regards him as “absurd and deplorable”. (It is actually the height of irony that the eminently physical father should produce such an eminently intellectual son.) All these comments show strong feelings of revulsion towards Old Quarles, and this feeling is intensified by the conciseness of their expression. It is only Bidlake who sums him up with an opinion which is more apt than anyone else’s – Of Philip Quarles’s father John Bidlake used to say that he was like one of those baroque Italian churches with sham facades. High, impressive, bristling with classical orders, broken pedimenta and statuary, the façade seems to belong to a great cathedral. But look more closely and you discover that it is only a screen. Behind the enormous and elaborate front there crouches a wretched little temple of brick and rubble and scabby plaster. And warming to his simile, John Bidlake would describe the unshaven priest, gabbling the office, the snooty little acolyte in his unwashed surplice, the congregation of goitrous peasant women and their brats, the cretin begging

Point Counter Point 79 at the door, the tin crowns on the images, the dirt on the floor, the stale smell of generations of pious humanity.112 Of all human vices Huxley regarded hypocrisy and sham as the worst; which is why of all the negative characters in Point Counter Point, the most detestable and debased are Burlap and Simon Quarles. Lucy is the product of a particular lifestyle, but even she is tolerable because of the honesty with which she expresses her opinions. In Spandrell evil is somewhat forced, and in any case, even evil as a direct opposition of good is preferable to moral debasement. Point Counter Point is a novel about people, not incident. The whole novel exists by a well-­planned montage of various characters set against each other, either counterpointing each other as in music or setting each other off. A total picture of the individual emerges only when the novel draws towards its close. No doubt a character is labelled “flat” when he/ she refuses to change and remains as static at the end as at the beginning. How far the characters of the novel provide surprises has been dealt with in detail so far, and in most cases, we see that they are illustrations of a certain idea. Huxley, however, manages to maintain interest by the simple method of gradual expression. The characters may not change, but they at least take their time in showing all their colours, and by the time our idea of that person is complete, the novel is nearing its end.

Notes 1 Aldous Huxley, Those Barren Leaves (Middlesex, Penguin Books, 1955) p. 308. 2 Aldous Huxley, Point Counter Point (London, Flamingo Modern Classics, 1994), p. 30. 3 Aldous Huxley, Ends and Means (London, Chatto & Windus, 1957), pp. 273–274. 4 Ibid, p. 276. 5 Ibid, p. 284. 6 Huxley, Point Counter Point, p.133. 7 Ibid. 8 Ibid, p. 207. 9 Ibid, p. 411. 10 Ibid. 11 Ibid, p. 301. 12 Ibid, p. 302. 13 Ibid, p. 119. 14 Ibid. 15 Ibid, p. 404. 16 Ibid, p. 405. 17 Percy Lubbock, The Craft of Fiction (London, Jonathan Cape, 1921), p. 62. 18 Wayne Booth, The Rhetoric of Fiction (London, Penguin, 1991), p. 8. 19 Ibid, p. 3. 20 Huxley, Point Counter Point, p. 208. 21 Ibid, p. 94.

80  Point Counter Point

22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

Ibid, pp. 196–197. Ibid, pp. 319–320. Ibid, p. 212. Ibid, p. 305. Ibid, pp. 210–211. Ibid, between pp. 99–102. Ibid, p. 93. Ibid, p. 94. Quoted by Jeremy Meckier in Aldous Huxley: Satire and Structure (London, Chatto & Windus, 1969). 31 Huxley, Point Counter Point, pp. 72–73. 32 Ibid, p. 74. 33 Ibid, pp. 194 & 196. 34 Ibid, p. 195. 35 Ibid, p. 294. 36 Ibid. 37 Ibid, p. 346. 38 Ibid, p. 76. 39 Ibid, p. 335. 40 Ibid, p. 322. 41 Ibid, p. 261. 42 Ibid, p. 261. 43 Ibid, p. 335. 44 Ibid, p. 194. 45 Ibid, p.298. 46 Ibid, p. 194. 47 Ibid, p. 333. 48 Ibid, p. 10. 49 Ibid, p. 192. 50 Ibid, p. 192. 51 Ibid, p. 64. 52 Ibid, p. 362. 53 Ibid, p. 256. 54 Ibid, p. 257. 55 Ibid, p. 367. 56 Ibid, p.357. 57 Ibid, p. 94. 58 Ibid, p. 95. 59 Ibid, p. 95. 60 Ibid, p. 218. 61 Ibid, p. 221. 62 Ibid, p. 224. 63 Ibid, p.285. 64 Ibid, p. 285. 65 Ibid, p. 288. 66 Ibid, p. 350. 67 Ibid, p. 222. 68 Ibid, p. 429. 69 Ibid, p. 428. 70 Ibid, p. 430. 71 Ibid, p. 436. 72 Ibid, p. 436. 73 Aldous Huxley, Eyeless in Gaza (London, Flamingo Modern Classics, 1994), p. 290.

Point Counter Point 81 74 Harold J. Watts, Aldous Huxley (Boston, Twayne, 1969), p. 104. 75 Peter Firchow, Aldous Huxley, Satirist and Novelist (Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 1972), p. 98. 76 Huxley, Point Counter Point, p. 132. 77 Ibid, p. 155. 78 Ibid, p. 92. 79 Ibid, p. 43. 80 Ibid, p. 53. 81 Ibid, p. 73. 82 Ibid, p. 134. 83 Ibid, p. 360. 84 Ibid, pp. 200–201. 85 Ibid, p. 202. 86 Ibid, p. 203. 87 Ibid, p.359. 88 Ibid, p. 132. 89 Ibid, p. 295. 90 Ibid, p. 89. 91 Ibid, p. 153. 92 Ibid, p. 153. 93 Ibid, p. 24. 94 Ibid, p. 44. 95 Ibid, p. 45. 96 Ibid, p. 422. 97 Ibid, pp. 43–44. 98 Ibid, p. 45. 99 Ibid, p. 61. 100 Ibid, p. 62. 101 Ibid, p. 304. 102 Ibid, p. 20. 103 Ibid, pp. 22–23. 104 Ibid, p. 139. 105 Ibid, p. 313. 106 Ibid, p. 188. 107 Ibid, pp. 61 & 62. 108 Ibid, p. 126. 109 Ibid, p. 128. 110 Ibid, p. 129. 111 Ibid, p. 366. 112 Ibid, p. 252.

3

Eyeless in Gaza

Eyeless in Gaza (1936), written eight years after Point Counter Point, is in many ways a different kind of novel altogether, both in form and in the writer’s outlook. One of the interesting features of Huxley is that while he himself changes along with his voracious reading and with new developments in Europe and the world, this change is reflected in his writings, making each work a completely new creation. The twenties were a very different period from the thirties, and the years after the Great Slump (1929) were never the same as the years before. The tumultuous Thirties were qualitatively different from the aimless hollowness of the Twenties, which had marked an uneasy lull between the Wars. There is no set ideology in the Twenties, and all that the artist seems to do is to project the purposelessness of the age in its fullest form, without comment or advice – as Eliot, for one, had done. The result is a partial return to art qua art (something which Shaw had valiantly fought against), where the artist writes not to teach or advise, but to give aesthetic satisfaction only. That is perhaps why the writer of the Twenties is so concerned with novelty of form – newer and newer means of expressing the present. All this begins to change after 1929, and there is a renewed interest in the conditions in which human beings have to live, and the various ways in which these conditions can be changed. Predictably, the trend tilts towards Marxist ideology, and a whole generation (though not all of them traditional Communists) begins to work and think according to certain key concepts like “organic”, “integration”, “relation”, “adaptation”, and “historicity”. Even the individualistic, liberal outlook of Protestantism gives way to the Socialist group ethic. This is also linked to the ideal of the World State of Communist ideology, and Communist and non-Communist alike now think more in terms of universalism than nationalism. This feeling is intensified through a string of political upheavals occurring throughout the world – the Japanese invasion of Manchuria in 1931; Hitler taking over power in Germany in 1933; the Chinese liberation movement and the Long March in 1935–1936; and the Spanish Civil War in 1936. Such events, added to the increasing strength of Fascism in Europe, gradually lead on to World War II in 1939, but that is after Eyeless in Gaza was DOI: 10.4324/9781003276388-3

Eyeless in Gaza 83 published and so outside the purview of this chapter. Many of these political events have a direct reference in this novel – the rise of Communism, the horrors of Nazism, and along with it all, the growth of the Gandhian pacifism, which was then making its mark in Indian politics. The condition of England in the early 1930s is summed up aptly by Julian Bell in The New Statesman (1933) – By the end of 1933 we have arrived at a situation in which almost the only subject of discussion is contemporary politics, and in which a large majority of the more intelligent under-graduates are communists or almost communists. As far as an interest in literature continues, it has largely changed its character and become an ally of communism….Indeed, it might with some plausibility be argued that communism in England is at present largely a literary phenomenon – an attempt of a second post-war generation to escape from the Waste Land. It may also be argued that Huxley’s Eyeless in Gaza is rather a reaction against this trend. That is why communism is projected with so much importance in the novel, and so much trouble is taken to project a plausible alternative. The shock caused to the British intellectuals by the success of German Fascism ran through all of society at that time. Even though excesses are committed by all nations holding extreme beliefs as a matter of policy, including the so-called democratic nations, in the Thirties, the intellectuals held the view that reason can prevail over the torture chamber and the labour camps. So, it was the widespread view that in Germany the Weimar Republic, being enlightened, reasonable, and tolerant, was the model for the other governments of Europe. When the Republic collapsed before the forces of Fascism, it was a terrible shock to the intellectuals of Britain. Along with this came news of the outrages committed by German Fascism – the destruction of Jewish art, the ethnic cleansing, the inhuman torture of the Jews, the incredible ideas of Hitler – and the evident acceptability of these outrages among the German public. The words of Julian Symons sums it all – Where liberal beliefs ended, the consciousness of struggle began. Who live under the shadow of a war, What can I do that matters? My pen stops, and my laughter, dancing, stop Or ride to a gap. To the question asked by Stephen Spender in one of his early poems, the Audience and the Pragmatists found two answers: the first, that of collective resistance to Fascism, the second, that of Pacifism.1

84  Eyeless in Gaza In the 1920s, people were only becoming aware of the imposing reality of the Waste Land; in the 1930s, people want to escape from it. That is why the Thirties are so different, and that is also why Eyeless in Gaza, too, is not of the same class as the novels of the 1920s. The characters now are still on the whole, flat, but they are more complicated because now they do not merely represent ideas as in the previous novels, but also different ways of life or ideologies. The characters therefore encompass more of life than they did previously, each one showing a large chunk of life rather than a small fraction of it. Thus, we have Communism represented in Ekki, Hedonism in Mary Amberley, Liberal Christianity in Brian Foxe, Manichaeism in Mark Staithes, and Nazism in Holtzmann. They all speak and act according to their respective ideologies, but since an ideology is a total world view, the characters seem to be more of actual human beings than they did previously. In Eyeless in Gaza, moreover, the characters act not only according to their types but they also sooner or later have to face the consequences of their deeds. This is very unlike the previous novels, especially Point Counter Point, where characters, good or bad, moral or immoral, dutiful or hedonistic, are shown as they are, and more often than not, continue to live their lives as they have always done, without any hope or fear of reward or retribution. Burlap, for example, was and still remains eminently disgusting; Lucy continues to live her life of heedless pleasure; Coleman remains the greatest proponent of Satanism in Antic Hay, and thus the list goes on. If misfortune does befall anyone, it happens for no just cause on the part of the people involved. Little Phil dies for no fault of his own; Everard Webley is killed for no earthly reason; Spandrell’s punishment is inflicted upon himself as a big joke; and Ethel Cobbett puts her own head into a lighted oven to punish a devil-may-care Burlap. Webley could have been killed for his ideas, which would have been a reason somewhat, but Spandrell exhorts Illidge to the act simply to commit the worst act possible against humanity. In the same way, Spandrell’s death could have been seen as retribution if it had not been carried out as a bitter satire on the very concept of crime and punishment. The only person in Point Counter Point who may be said to suffer for his sins, is a minor character, Simon Quarles, who, though exposed in adultery, is not affected too much by the ignominy involved. Brave New World, the novel published between Point Counter Point and Eyeless in Gaza, should be kept in a class of its own, because it does not show society as it is, but as it might be, given the present state of scientific progress. Eyeless in Gaza marks the first real shift from the type of characterization so far used by Huxley. For the first time, the characters are punished or rewarded according to their actions or beliefs. A belief may not be actual, palpable action, but it does, nevertheless, lead to such, and so it has to be equally punished. Ekki’s death can be explained in no other way. The same may be said of Mark Staithes, for the grotesque horror

Eyeless in Gaza 85 which he somehow is attracted to in the life he sees around him, ultimately engulfs his own body, and he is forced to live with it all his life. All the others have to suffer for what they have done – Mrs. Foxe, Brian Foxe, Mary Amberley, and Hugh Ledwidge without exception. The only one who remains aloof from this poetic justice is Helen, who suffers intensely, but without any obvious cause on her part. This, of course excepts the protagonist, Anthony, who should have suffered more, given his actions in the novel, but is let off lightly, presumably in view of the pacifist remedies to be expatiated through him. For the first time, moreover, advice is added to criticism of social life. In Point Counter Point Rampion is epitomized as the ideal as opposed to the senseless, irrational, pleasure-hunting thousands surrounding him. Rampion, however, never proffers any advice as to how this ideal is to be achieved – except for a discourse on the necessity of uplifting the individual in order to effect the upliftment of society. Through Rampion we have a portrayal of the flaws in society, but no way of rectifying these flaws is shown. In Eyeless in Gaza there are at least three people trying actively to rectify society – Mark, Ekki, and Miller; and after they are all analysed and juxtaposed, Miller’s is seen as the best way out. Again, it is for the first time in this novel that characters are more or less shown to change according to their situations and circumstances – a sure sign of roundedness. This was to a great extent absent from novels up to Brave New World, where characters had been built with no surprises to offer, because they illustrate a particular idea and not much more than that. There is no great shift in this respect when we come to Eyeless in Gaza, because characters are still created according to ideas; but the change nevertheless occurs, because now the effects of those ideas are shown. Which means, of course, that authorial comment is far greater than before. Somehow the world view in this novel is more frightening for this reason. Helen is one of the most enigmatic and attractive of Huxley’s creations. Anthony changes, and changes for the better. Mark is also an enigma in many ways, and Mary Amberley, though she remains basically the same, is nevertheless taught her lessons. In this novel, a lot too can be said of the ingredients which form the characters. Never before in Huxley has structural form been so important in a novel. Point Counter Point, too, had an organic form on which the incidents and characters were based, but this was primarily a thematic structure based on the musical symbolism of point and counterpoint. Everything in the novel moves according to this system. In Eyeless in Gaza, however, the novel is not given a single integrated symbolic structure, though symbolic systems are apparent at various phases. The physical structure is important here – the chapter divisions, the temporal background, the layout, and planning of the various incidents. The total impression depends greatly on this format, and much of the impression is provided by the characters, who are evolved by this same

86  Eyeless in Gaza structure. The novel begins with Anthony Beavis discovering some old photographs, and the succeeding chapters are set in a manner in which they record the memories, thoughts and opinions of Anthony as he scans the pictures. Time, therefore, becomes very important, and the incidents move back and forth in time, ostensibly arbitrarily, revealing the past in relation to the present. There is, however, a system in this arbitrariness, which becomes increasingly clear as the novel progresses. Four phases of Anthony’s past life are recorded – 1902–1904, 1912–1914, 1922– 1928, and 1933–1934. The present, which begins at the end of 1934, and ends in 1935, is juxtaposed with these erratically, giving an impression that in the mind of Anthony, the linear time-division has actually no value. The reader, however, learns to separate the four phases in his mind while going through the novel, as the separation, as it occurs, is actually a product of the reader’s perception and not of the protagonist’s. In Anthony’s mind they are inextricably linked, and in such a way that past and present have become fused together to produce the person that he is. The jumbling up of the different temporal phases is not, as some critics would believe, a sophisticated conceit on the part of the author, playing with established structural conventions. Peter Bowering candidly remarks – It must be admitted that the device of the time shift is too mechanical.2 A.E. Dyson too takes a rather condescending attitude – Now what does Huxley hope to gain by this method? Mainly, I would say, psychological suspense.3 Others, however, realize the intricate thematic implications of the erratic time scheme. Jeremy Meckier’s opinion is more acceptable – ….the novel’s structure, though at first glance chaotic, gradually reveals itself to be an integral whole in the Wordsworthian vein.4 No doubt Huxley’s technique amounts to conscious artistry, but it is his way of showing that the present is an inevitable outcome of the past and that clock-time is not necessarily synonymous with psychological time. Huxley is indeed a true representative of the age of Bergson. Here it is quite apparent that though psychological study is not the primary concern of the novelist, the influence of the psychological novel is very obvious, even when Huxley is portraying society and not the individual. Therefore, when he maintains through Miller that the individual is the most important factor in any kind of social change, the best illustration is found in Eyeless in Gaza itself. So far, even in Point Counter Point, individuals are only links in the social structure, and individuality

Eyeless in Gaza 87 in a person amounts to the particular social trait which he represents. In Eyeless in Gaza, characters have become the men and women who constitute the society, and change in their psychological make-up is the first step towards change in the social structure. That is why Anthony at the end feels the necessity of expressing what he knows to be right, even in the face of threats from opponent ideologies to physically prevent him from doing so. Even though it is Anthony’s mind through which everything is filtered in the novel, nevertheless, impressions of all the characters are formed through the unique temporal structure. Often we see the effect of a particular act even before the act has been described to us, and at other times we get to see a whole chain of events after that act without knowing what it was that had led to such effects. Brian’s suicide is one such incident. We have a hint about Anthony’s feelings about the suicide in Chapter XI – “What right had the man of 1914 to commit the man of 1926? The 1914 man had been an embodied state of anger, shame, distress, perplexity. His state today was one of serenity, mingled, so far as Mary Amberley was concerned, with considerable curiosity”.5 The suicide finally occurs, after we have been detailed about the whole set of events before and after it, in Chapter LII. If we consider the novels chronologically from Crome Yellow, what becomes evident is the fact that Huxley takes increasing recourse to motifs and symbols in illustrating his themes and characters. Up to Eyeless in Gaza the finest use of symbolism had been made in Point Counter Point, where, apart from the overall musical structure, images of age and decrepitude, of moral and physical dirt, of beasts and beastliness, and of disease and death, abound. Eyeless in Gaza marks the culmination of this trend, and no novel, either before or after, can compete with it in its intricately woven symbolic structure. The photographs with which the novel begins, though mentioned only twice, are themselves symbolic, in that the whole novel moves according to the erratic, topsy-turvy chronology of photographs being seen at random, one after the other – Somewhere in the mind a lunatic shuffled a pack of snapshots and dealt them out at random, shuffled once more and dealt them out in different order, again and again, indefinitely. There was no chronology.6 Also, visual, auditory, and olfactory effects are used here more than any other novel – “You look like a Gauguin”, he said after a moment. Brown like a Gauguin, and, curiously, it struck him, flat like a Gauguin, too, for the sunburn suppressed those nacreous gleams of carmine and blue and green that give the tanned white body its peculiar sumptuousness of relief.7

88  Eyeless in Gaza It is a direct correspondence with the visual arts. But there are certain descriptions that are immediately striking because of their use of colour contrasts and visual effects – such as – Her face was very pale, and a glancing spurt of blood had left a long red streak that ran diagonally from the right side of the chin, across the mouth, to the corner of the left eye8 – – or – His love, it seemed to him in that apocalyptic moment, was more than merely his; it was in some mysterious way the equivalent of this wind and sunshine, these white gleams against the green and blue of spring.9 Sometimes the sense of sight itself is as if tortured and hurt by painful and grotesque use of colour and shape – Grotesquely dyed (in the hope, he supposed, of regaining some of the attractiveness which she could not help noticing that she had lost), the hair was greasy and uncombed. A smear of red paint, clumsily laid on, enlarged her lower lip into an asymmetrical shapelessness.10 The effect of this description, in particular, is to show the contrast between the young Mary Amberley and the Mary Amberley degraded by a life of physical indulgence. Visual images have also been used to intensify the images of disease, death, and torture, which are so numerous in the novel. Torture and pain are always more effectively and horrifyingly conveyed when shown than when verbally described – as in – I visualize men using force. First, hand to hand. With fists, knives, truncheons, whips. Weals, red or livid, across flesh. Lacerations, bruises, the broken bone sticking in jags through the skin, faces horribly swollen and bleeding.11 And indeed, Mark’s gangrene, the child’s pain in the throes of meningitis, the kitten’s illness, and the dog’s death from his fall onto the terrace – are all described minutely and without scruples. The most potent visual image, however, occurs in the very title itself. It is to a great extent autobiographical, for Huxley himself had come close to blindness at the age of sixteen, having suffered from an attack of keratitis punctata, an inflammation of the cornea. Having been physically eyeless, he uses this image as the title of this novel, which is an account of spiritual eyelessness, and the struggle to attain spiritual vision by his own prototype, Anthony Beavis. He had long been haunted

Eyeless in Gaza 89 by the probability of sight without eyes, of vision within the pure sphere of ideas; and in the bildungsroman of Anthony, he attempts to trace a journey towards such a life. Auditory images also abound in the novel, but even though they are sometimes used merely for the sound effect – as in the sound of the train in Anthony’s ears on the day of his mother’s death – DEAD-A-DEAD! In a sudden frenzy yelled the wheels, as the train crossed a bridge, DEAD-A-DEAD!….To stop the train pull down the chain, to stop the train pull down-a-dead-a-dead-a-dead.12 These images are primarily used to distort rather than to harmonize. In Point Counter Point the music metaphor did have a harmonizing effect, but this is totally absent in Eyeless in Gaza. For instance, there is this description of Mark’s housekeeper – Mark had played for only a minute or two when the door opened and an elderly woman…entered the room. She walked on tiptoe, acting an elaborate pantomime the very personification of silence, but in the process, produced an extraordinary volume and variety of disturbing noises – creaking of shoes, rustling of silk, glassy clinking of bead necklaces, juggling of the silver objects suspended by little chains from the waist….The horse-faced creature waved him back to his place, and cautiously, in a final prolonged explosion of noise, sat down on the sofa.13 – where the very contrast between desired silence and inadvertent noise, and between the music Mark is playing, and the jarring noises of the housekeeper, rather serve to irritate than to soothe the ears. Or in – As he spoke, the child lifted thin arms from under the sheet, and, clasping her head between her hands, began to roll still more violently from side to side, and at last broke into a paroxysm of screaming. In immediate response, the noise of the parakeets on the verandah swelled up, shriek after shriek, to a deafening maximum of intensity.14 – the effect is one of tremendous, jarring noise. Olfactory images too abound, but again, they are mainly disgusting, repulsive smells – “the disgusting smell of curdled milk”15, or the smell of stale blood in the butcher’s shop, or – “Genuinely distressed, she offered comfort. But the comfort smelt as usual, of onions”.16 Like the other sensory images, tactical images are also used with ironical overtones. Pain and pleasure are almost always connected, sometimes so much that they almost seem to be undistinguishable. For instance,

90  Eyeless in Gaza the extreme pleasure that Helen experiences through love-making is described in terms of the most intense pain – Restlessly she turned her head on the cushions this way and that, as though seeking, but always vainly, some relief, however slight, some respite, if only for a moment, from her intolerable suffering…. Distorted, the face was a mask of extreme grief.17 Later, in Chapter XLI, the terrible expressions of pain of the child suffering from meningitis remind Anthony of Helen’s movements during love-making. Other tactical images abound, but those which express disgust and repulsiveness prove to be the most lasting – as in the description of the kidney which Helen steals from the butcher’s shop – The thing slithered obscenely between her gloved fingers – a slug, a squid….As she dropped it into the basket, the idea came to her that for some reason she might have to take the horrible thing in her mouth, raw as it was and oozy with some unspeakable slime, take it in her mouth, bite, taste, swallow.18 Also connected with the sense of touch are the innumerable references to disease, skin infections, torture, and physical pain that abound in the novel. *  *  * Apart from these techniques of building up atmosphere, Eyeless in Gaza also marks a trend towards lengthy individual discourses at the cost of dialogue. Point Counter Point marks a watershed in the trend marking the novels as a whole, for it is only up to that novel that urban reality is shown from all angles, with very little advice given as to its redemption. From Eyeless in Gaza onwards, Huxley’s attention shifts to the solution too, and since this is markedly increased as more novels are written, the novels become more and more didactic. Didactic lessons, because they are usually dealt out without question, are better propounded through monologic discourses. Only those subjects which are, in the opinion of the author, liable to debate, are brought into the sphere of conversation. In Eyeless in Gaza, therefore, discourse becomes very important. As mentioned earlier in Chapter II, in the analysis of Point Counter Point, diary or notebook writing may be included here as a variation of discourse, because what must be spoken of, but cannot at the moment be expatiated on to a listener for lack of opportunity, is written down in notebook form, as it would have been said in a spoken discourse. Often discourses may seem to be unnecessary to the plot; a reader may feel many of the discussed subjects to be mere mental

Eyeless in Gaza 91 exercises, having almost no connection with either theme or character. Such allegations, if analysed from textual evidence, has little basis, for long discourses are the prerogative of only those few who have the ability to speak at length on a subject – Anthony and Miller and Mark. The rest attempt at such, but either fail, or break off midway, like Mary Amberley or Brian Foxe. Helen does not try at all, for she is more concerned with feeling than preaching. Lengthy discourse is thus is a good way of judging those characters who make use of it. In Eyeless in Gaza, at least, lengthy discourse also has another significance. Even given the fact that incidents are jumbled up in time like a pack of cards, discourses, at whatever point of time they are introduced, are almost always followed by an incident which relates in some way to the just-concluded subject-matter of the discourse. The incident may be taking place in a completely different time schedule, but the link between the discourse and what is taking place cannot be ignored. For instance, on 26 May 1937 (Chap XVII), Anthony records in his diary (with a few stray comments of his own) Miller’s discourse to him on the relative merits of national and individual behaviour, giving importance to the latter above the former, because the nation cannot progress if the individual remains stagnant and weighed down by various prejudices. He records here some “empirical facts” – One. We are all capable of love for other human beings. Two. We impose limitations on that love. Three. We can transcend all these limitations. If we choose to…. Four. Love expressing itself in good treatment breeds love. Hate expressing itself in bad treatment breeds hate.19 The same section ends with Anthony meeting the homosexual Beppo Bowles in a public lavatory – the individual or the example of an individual who must be given a dose of Miller’s pacifist propaganda; an individual living in the hell – or perhaps for him, heaven – of the public lavatory, living in perpetual hope or fear of physical pleasures. The contrast is striking, and it is further intensified in the next chapter, which takes us back to 8 December 1926, where we meet not one, but several individuals who must be made to look beyond their personal prejudices. Needless to say, notwithstanding the knowledge gained through the discourse just ended, such a feat is impossible. We hear of Mark having gone to Mexico and changed – but not for any love of human beings. Beppo had gone to Berlin – to escape from the General Strike – and had had his fill of physical pleasure there. Gerry Watchett continues to seduce both Mary and her daughter, Helen. Miller’s social treatment becomes doubly necessary, and doubly futile. Miller’s discourse on “correct physical use” also finds a place in Anthony’s diary, dated 3 June 1934, where we have a detailed analysis of this particular theory –

92  Eyeless in Gaza In practice, neurosis is always associated with some kind of wrong use. (Note the typically bad posture of neurotics and lunatics. The stooping back, the muscular tension, the sunken head.) Re-educate. Give back correct physical use. You remove the key-stone of the arch constituting the neurotic personality. The neurotic personality collapses. And in its place is built up a personality in which all the habits of physical use are correct. But correct use entails – since body-mind is indivisible except in thought – correct mental use. Most of us are slightly neurotic. 20 This is merely theory without example. The example is given in the next chapter (Chap XXIV), dated 23 June and 5 July 1927, where we are shown incorrect physical use in the persons of Mary Amberley and Gerry Watchett. Mary pampers her body and results in making it increasingly revolting; Gerry Watchett uses his body to seduce young, innocent girls like Helen. Wrong physical use results in wrong mental use, and both Mary and Gerry become mentally depraved as time passes. In Chapters XLIII and XLIV, the sequence is inverted – the incident of the betrayal of Ekki by his comrades, and his subsequent torture and death on 3 February 1934; followed by Anthony’s discourse to Helen on the unviability of Communism – “organized hatred” – and on love being the best means of securing justice and peace. The events related in the former chapter are connected with the theory analysed in the next, even though the time gap in between does not necessarily correspond the two according to temporal logic. The principle on which this analysis is based is that the reader is reading the novel in its jumbled up sequence, and not according to the chronological manner. As such, the reading sequence differs from the actual temporal sequence. Though some awareness of time emerges as the novel proceeds, to the reader the events of 1934, for example, are followed by those of 1926. As such, the tenets discussed by Miller in 1934 are followed in reading sequence, by incidents which took place much earlier, and may be illustrated in reading order as the novel proceeds. Dr, Miller’s theories are almost always imparted through lengthy discourse, and more often, via Anthony’s notebook. When they are directly explained to a listener by Miller himself, a little bit of questioning may be introduced here and there, but on the whole, it is uninterrupted discourse, the implication being that Miller’s theories are the most acceptable and inviolable, and therefore, undebatable. The only contradictions to these ideas come from Mark Staithes, who, ill in bed, gives us very little apart from a few chewed expletives. *  *  * In Point Counter Point Rampion had been drawn as the ideal personality against whom all the other characters are juxtaposed. As such,

Eyeless in Gaza 93 in that novel, an analysis of Rampion becomes a necessity before any analysis of the other characters can take place, because their deficiencies must be pointed out in relation with the perfection that Rampion represents. It is not so easy with Eyeless in Gaza, because even though Miller is posed as the ideal, he is not characterized properly, and remains a mere personification of the “Theory” which is meant to represent the ideal. He never does become a human being as Rampion does. Often he remains only a Voice, as Kurtz in the Heart of Darkness – only, the situation and problem of Kurtz is different. This is rather remarkable, for both Rampion and Miller are based on real people – Rampion on Lawrence, and Miller on two individuals who had helped Huxley greatly during 1934–1935, when he had chronically suffered from depression and insomnia. F.M. Alexander was his medical therapist, but he was something of a guru to Huxley, initiating him into effective techniques of meditation and control of the self. At this time, he was also greatly influenced by Gerald Heard, a fellow pacifist, and a student of oriental philosophy who channelled his search for inner peace into social fronts. Huxley had met Heard in 1929. Apart from these people, Miller’s techniques also resemble those of Theodore Pennell, who used non-violent methods in dealing with American Indians. 21 In the case of Miller, however, he becomes something like a character of a Morality Play. One reason is that we know very little of his public life, and nothing at all about his private. All we know is that he is a doctor who practises on people who live in conditions which do not allow for modern medical practice as we know it, and that wherever he goes he spreads the message of love, humanism and peace, and the upliftment of the individual as the first step towards the upliftment of the society. As a character there is nothing to analyse in him, for he is not delineated with a character. Whatever analysis he may deserve is of the ideas which he attempts to teach the people whom he has devoted his life to serving. Since it is a one-way lesson, his theories are discursive, and these discourses cover all aspects of social life, from the question of freedom to sexuality. Yet, the essence of his teachings consists of making the individual totally positive in the use of his body and mind; of the eschewing of violence, and of love as the moving factor in the Universe – Force may subdue, but Love gains….For love is self-energizing. Produces the means whereby its policy can be carried out. In order to go on loving, one needs patience, courage, endurance. But the process of loving generates these means to its own continuance. Love gains because, for the sake of that which is loved, the lover is patient and brave. 22 Very rarely do we get to hear Miller’s lessons from his own mouth. When we do, and that is only in the Mexican wilderness, when he is attending

94  Eyeless in Gaza to Mark’s leg, the aspect that most strikes us in his speech is his total lack of emotion. He speaks of the dangers of constipation with a straight face when Anthony is frantically searching for a doctor for Mark, and calmly tells the latter to “be sentimental about human beings” without the least expression of sentiment himself. Sometimes he even seems rather robotic in his lack of modulation in expression. Most of the times, of course, we hear his speeches through Anthony’s diary, and therefore adapted through Anthony’s language. Indeed, Huxley does attempt to make a few half-hearted assays in building up an ordinary image in Miller. His appearance is meant to attract, as it attracts Anthony at first sight – He was an elderly little man, short and spare, but with a fine upright carriage that lent him a certain dignity….A mouth like an inquisitor’s. but the inquisitor had forgotten himself and learned to smile…. And round the bright, enquiring eyes those intricate lines seemed the traces and hieroglyphic symbols of a constantly repeated movement of humorous kindliness. A queer face, Anthony decided, but charming. 23 He shows some sorrow for his dead wife – I was married. For fourteen years. Then my wife died. Blackwater fever it was….Knew her job better, in some ways, than I did. 24 He behaves like a good friend to everyone he meets – Anthony laughed; but laughed to hide a certain disquiet. This being on human terms with everyone you met could be a bit embarrassing.25 But when the native children throw stones at Anthony in return for his boorish behaviour, Miller calmly says, “Serve you right. Leave them alone, and come and do your duty”. – and continues with his work of amputating Mark’s leg. Duty comes first with him; sentiment later. Miller never shows himself to be overtly religious, and certainly never in favour of Christianity – which makes him more acceptable in a humanistic sense – Look at the correlation between religion and diet. Christians eat meat, drink alcohol, smoke tobacco; and Christianity exalts personality, insists on the value of petitionary prayer, teaches that God feels anger and approves the persecution of heretics. It’s the same with the Jews and the Moslems. Kosher and an indignant Jehovah…. Now look at the Buddhists. Vegetables and water. But what is their philosophy? They don’t exalt personality; they try to transcend it. 26

Eyeless in Gaza 95 All these features only serve to intensify the feeling that he is not an ordinary man with several foibles, but someone on the level of the wise guru of Indian tradition, who can never be wrong. That is why, perhaps, Helen refuses to meet him, whereas she will spend day after day with Anthony, scoffing at his pacifist beliefs, and at his guru, Miller. Anthony realizes the cause – that she had a very low opinion of his “powers to shake her convictions”, whereas Miller’s actions “had got between the joints of her armour. He acted his doctrine, didn’t rest content with talking it”. 27 Anthony knows how right Helen is, and the rest of his life is devoted to trying to act out what he preaches, like Miller. *  *  * Anthony Beavis is not merely the protagonist of the novel; he is also the medium through which we get to know most of Miller’s ideas. Apart from this, we actually see Miller’s lessons working through him; of the immense change that takes place in his personality merely because of his interaction with Miller. What Miller does really is to peel off the thick skin of cowardice, inhibitions, and passivity that had covered the real, emotional, active Anthony, who, as it were, gains a new direction in his life after his journey to Mexico. The change in him, however, begins to occur only after 1934, which is a very short time, indeed, for the novel ends in February 1935. Yet, due to the singular structure of the novel, we see the changed, or almost changed Anthony often in the course of the novel, reminding us time and again that this Anthony is the product of his imperfect past. The result of his acquaintance with Miller forms the Present of the novel, and all the rest is the Past, shuffled up like old photographs, and exposed to us in like manner. Indeed, even the language and style of “Past” and “Present” are conspicuously and deliberately different, as if to separate them in the course of the plot and in the minds of the readers. The Present is Anthony’s diary, and therefore related in the first person. Whatever incidents are mentioned, are so done through Anthony’s point of view, and related in his notebook – for instance, his meeting with Helen after the abduction of Geisebrecht, his long talks with Miller, his re-encounter with Mark, and so on. Often the language is telegraphic, and personal pronouns are omitted; often it is the formal, rather heavy language of philosophical and sociological theory, as when he reproduces almost verbatim Miller’s discourses. At other times, it is reported language, interspersed with his own opinions, as when he is relating a particular incident or conversation. Actually, through this process, even Miller becomes a secondary character, because Anthony’s acquaintance with him is significant not because of Miller’s personality, but because of its impact on Anthony’s personality. The Past is not just Anthony’s Past, but also the Past of all the characters before Anthony’s diary begins. It is written from the third person point of view, and as such, though Anthony remains the focal point,

96  Eyeless in Gaza the incidents are not dependent on Anthony’s imagination for interpretation, but stand independently, often without the knowledge of Anthony at all. This remarkable relation between Past and Present can be very well illustrated from one incident – the abduction of Ekki, and the meeting with Helen a few months after it has occurred. The betrayal of Ekki occurs on 23 February 1934, and it is related in the third person, in the most impersonal manner. If the consciousness of anyone is involved, it is Helen’s. The gruesome incident, with all its sociological and emotional implications, has nothing to do with Anthony, and he knows nothing about it, except probably for a few details from Helen. One year later, on 23 February 1935, Anthony speaks with Helen about Communism, with memories of the past incidents and of Ekki to corroborate their arguments. The meeting is described in the third person, but from Anthony’s point of view, and it is the only chapter (incidentally, the last chapter of the novel) in which Miller is no direct reference for Anthony’s opinions. The implication therefore is that Anthony has by now grown to think independently, and thus the chapter, which begins in the dialogue form, slowly drifts into the stream-of-consciousness style, of the type Joyce uses in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Anthony, from thoughts of a threatening letter to reflections on his limitations as human being, finally makes up his mind to speak at the meeting, notwithstanding the threats of people working against his (and Miller’s) pacifist doctrines. All this, of course, takes place in the Present, for that is where the novel ends. The change in the type of narration where Anthony is concerned suggests that from time to time his diary is recorded, i.e., 4 April 1934, we see the real Anthony Beavis – as he is now. The Anthony described in the third person narrative is quite another person in the eyes of this “real” Anthony, and therefore, may be judged dispassionately. The third-person narrative has a distancing effect, separating the Past Anthony from the Present, and it shows him in the process of “becoming”. Anthony, from 4 April 1934, is the person who has completed this process. That is why we spot a slow change developing in the Anthony of the past, whereas the Anthony who keeps the diary does not change at all. He does have a few decisions to make – as for instance, whether he should attend the pacifist meeting or not – but he invariably chooses the correct alternative, or the alternative which Huxley wishes to show as the correct one. The developing Anthony invariably makes the wrong decisions, gives in to temptation, and in spite of his reputation as a logical, rational person, always manages to act irrationally, impulsively, and foolishly – as in the Brian-Joan episode. Also, the speech of the Anthony of the Present is marked by a surfeit of individual discourse, whereas the Anthony up to the Present, communicates with other people through dialogue and conversation. That is why, probably, the imperfect Anthony becomes more interesting by far than the perfect one, who is projected as having become the fittest successor of Dr. Miller.

Eyeless in Gaza 97 Indeed, this is the reason why the speech pattern of Dr. Miller and that of the Anthony of the Present is so very similar. The language of both is heavy and formal, largely humourless, pedantic, lecturing, and extremely logical. There is, for example, very little stylistic difference between the language of – Prevention is good, but can’t eliminate the necessity for cure. The power to cure bad behaviour seems essentially similar to the power to cure bad co-ordination. One learns this last when learning the proper use of self. There is a transference. The power to inhibit and control….etc. 28 (this is Miller via Anthony). – and that of – For those whose nature demands personality as a source of energy, but who find it impossible to believe that the Universe is run by a person in any sense of the word that we can possibly understand – what’s the right policy? In most cases they reject any practice which might be called religious….etc. 29 (this is the regenerated Anthony). There is nothing to show that they are two very different people speaking these lines. In the developing period of his life, Anthony’s speech lacks this confident, formal, impersonal flow. Often it is hesitant, halting, and suspicious. Of course, as in stream-of-consciousness novels, the language of Anthony changes from stage to stage of his life. In 1902, it was a school-boyish slang – a slang which he shakes off very soon because of his father’s embarrassing habit of using boyish colloquialisms to please his son. When Anthony is in the university (1912), the language becomes energetic and fresh – Why should one be bullied into making choices when one didn’t want to choose; into binding oneself into a set of principles when it was so essential to be free; into committing oneself to associate with other people when as likely as not one would want to be alone; into promising in advance to be at given places at given times?30 The language matures with time and experience until, by 1926 it has become analytical and critical – “Breaking down your protective convention”, he went on, turning again to Mary, “that’s real fun. Leaving you defenceless against the full consciousness of the fact that you can’t do without your fellow humans, and that, when you’re with them, they make you sick”.31

98  Eyeless in Gaza Yet, however mature the language may become, it is still hesitant compared to the confidence of the Anthony who writes the diary. When he is spouting sociological doctrines, he is quite the master of his language – So what is personality? And what is it not? It is not our total experience. It is not the psychological atom or instant. It is not sense impressions as such, nor vegetative life as such. It is experience in the lump, and by the hour. It is feeling and thought…etc.32 But when it comes to his personal life, the whole picture is different – Don’t you ever feel that you simply can’t be bothered to do what you’ve decided on? Just now, for example, I found myself wondering all of a sudden why on earth I’d been talking to you like this – why I’d been thinking these things before you came – why I’d been trying to make up my mind to do something. Wondering and feeling that I simply couldn’t be bothered. Thinking it would be better just to evade it all and go back to the familiar routine. The quiet life. Even though the quiet life would be fatal.33 Or – “I ought to talk to her about the morphia”, he was thinking, “try to persuade her to go into a home and get cured. For her own sake. For the sake of poor Helen! But he knew Mary. She’d start to protest, she’d scream, she’d fly into a rage. It would be like a public-house brawl”….In the end he said nothing.34 Anthony, up to 4 April 1934, is in a perpetual quandary about what he “ought” to do, which is always at odds with what he actually does. Being an intellectual, he is aware enough of this – Five words sum up every biography. Video meliora proboque deteriora sequor. Like all other human beings I know what I ought to do, but continue to do what I know I oughtn’t to do.35 His reflects the cowardice which is one of his most telling traits at this time of his life. Anthony has always been a coward, and it is all the more remarkable that he manages to conquer this fault after his acquaintance with Miller. His moral cowardice has always been more apparent than physical cowardice, even from his days at Bulstrode. An example here would be his conflicting reactions on seeing “Goggler” Ledwidge masturbating. All the boys, including Anthony, begin to throw slippers at

Eyeless in Gaza 99 him, and Anthony, overcoming his first shame at the meanness of this act, joins lustily with Staithes and the others in hurting him – ….and they all laughed – none more derisively than Anthony. For Anthony had had time to feel ashamed of his shame.36 No doubt Anthony has a conscience but he will nevertheless disobey its urgent warnings in order to avoid being teased, and in order to join the majority in less charitable jokes. He will enjoy himself bird-watching with Brian in the holidays, but at school, when Staithes would mock Brian for his bird-mania, “a great howl of laughter would go up – a howl in which Anthony always joined”. He does not improve much when he moves up to the University in 1912. He does not like Gerry Watchett, yet, conscious of his dislike, he continues to associate with Gerry and his circle because “to be the intimate of the young aristocrats and plutocrats, and at the same time to know himself their superior in intelligence, taste, judgement, in all the things that really mattered, was satisfying to his vanity”.37 When an invitation comes from Gerry to join a cocktail party, he knows he should not go – A middle-class snob tolerated because of his capacities as an entertainer. The thought was hateful, wounding. “Why should I stand it?” he wondered. “Why am I such a damn fool? I shall write Gerry a note to say I can’t come!” But time passed. The note remained unwritten.38 There is a tug-of-war in his mind between this party and a Fabian meeting, and he finally chooses the former, writing a hurried note to Brian explaining his inability to go because he had suddenly remembered an appointment for dinner. Very significantly Anthony, who is always striving to be unlike his hypocritical and pretentious father, finds himself speaking, writing, and thinking very like him – Suddenly remembered I’d booked myself for dinner tonight. (“Booked” was one of his father’s favourite words – a word he ordinarily detested for its affectation. Writing a lie, he had found it coming spontaneously to his pen.) Alas (that was also a favourite locution of his father’s), shan’t be able to listen to you on sin.39 The fact that he is not just a moral coward but a physical one as well, is established much later in 1934 when, accompanying Mark to Mexico, he encounters a young man who misinterprets Anthony’s halting Spanish as something insulting, and rushes towards him with a revolver. Anthony, frightened out of his life, takes refuge behind a pillar, it is Mark who

100  Eyeless in Gaza comes to his rescue. Mark’s words of contempt sum him up – “In other words, you’re afraid. Well, why not? But if you are, for God’s sake, say so. Have the courage of your cowardice”. – which Anthony does not have. Everything leads up to his final act of cowardice – final in terms of the novel, not in terms of time – his shying away from owning up to Brian about his moral lapse with Joan. He means to tell Brian about it, he rehearses it innumerable times; but even on the fatal day he cannot find the courage to confess – Instant confession might have relieved his pain, might have allowed him at the same time to express his feelings; but he hesitated; he was silent; and in a few seconds….the sympathy and solicitude had combined with the sense of guilt to form a kind of anger.40 Even in his guilt Anthony can be cynical of his friend, can return to that irrational urge to hurt him, to laugh at him, and to overcome that nagging feeling of inferiority to Brian. One other feature of Anthony is made clear from the very beginning of the novel through his talk, his thoughts, and his writings – something that he is very much aware of. This is absolute intellectualism at the cost of his emotional and sensitive faculties. It is a trait which he shares with Philip Quarles in Point Counter Point, and it is a trait which Rampion had identified as a “monstrosity”, because it prevents one from being a complete human being. Rampion’s words can be recalled at this juncture, because they are equally relevant in the context of the novel – And to think that the world’s full of these creatures!….And all perverted in the same way – by trying to be non-human….Perverted towards goodness or badness, towards spirit or flesh; but always away from the central norm, always away from humanity. The world’s an asylum of perverts.41 In this total intellectualisation of himself, Anthony is very close to Philip Quarles – and this is not very surprising given the fact that both are autobiographical adaptations reflecting more-or-less the same qualities and drawbacks. The similarity between Anthony and Quarles is that both are intensely aware of this feature and take great pains to keep themselves away from all emotional and sensitive attachments, yet both are emotionally hurt in one way or the other, thereby learning that they cannot run away from their emotions indefinitely. Quarles’s son dies under tragic circumstances, and Anthony realizes that for all his attempts to keep to an “intellectual” relationship with Helen, he has fallen in love with her at the very moment that she decides to leave him forever. The difference between them, however, lies in the fact that Quarles may be an “intellectual-aesthetic pervert”, but he is emotionally dependent on

Eyeless in Gaza 101 his wife Elinor, who in several ways makes up for his deficiencies in public. Anthony is totally unassisted in any way till he meets Miller, and is a prey to his deficiency. Quarles, moreover, does not basically change, even though he is emotionally hurt. Anthony, after being influenced by Miller, certainly does. In a way, both Quarles and Anthony are mentally disabled in their extreme intellectuality, and this also affects their view of life in that they are unable to “see” the world in a complete manner – “eyeless”, as it were. In this novel, however, it is a journey from blindness to sight in the case of Anthony, under the influence of Miller. Philip, in Point Counter Point suffers greatly, no doubt, particularly after the death of his son, but he does not really change, and his limitations remain till the end. Up to the incident of the dog dropping down from an aeroplane, Anthony’s language markedly reflects his intellectualism. Helen tells him bitterly in 1933 – “You are sweet, you are touching….You make them [people] give you something for nothing”. And Anthony replies, “But at least I’m perfectly frank about its being nothing. I never pretend it’s a Grand Passion”. He drops into German so as to make all the romantic business of affinities and violent emotions sound particularly ridiculous. Helen has experienced the bitter side of this deliberate unemotionalism. She had tried to love him, to reach out to him, but “how firmly, how definitely he had shut the door against her! He didn’t want to be loved”. Finally, there comes a tacit agreement between them to share bodies, but to keep away from any emotional entanglements whatsoever. Old photographs usually give rise to nostalgia. In him they merely rouse disgust – All this burden of past experience one trails about with one! There ought to be some way of getting rid of one’s superfluous memories!42 Not that he has not had his share of misfortune and emotional trauma – the death of his mother, the suicide if his friend, the burden of his own guilt; but characteristically, he has avoided being emotionally nurtured and has matured through them. Until, in Miller’s words, he has become “one clever man and two idiots”. Somehow Miller manages to echo Rampion in this – Really and by nature every man’s a unity; but you’ve artificially transformed the unity into a trinity. One clever man and two idiots – that’s what you’ve made yourself. An admirable manipulator of ideas, linked with a person who, so far as self-knowledge and feelings are concerned, is just a moron….Two imbeciles and one intellectual.43 This complete reliance on the intellect gives Anthony a casual, off-hand manner of speaking, which contrasts pointedly with Brian’s attempt at

102  Eyeless in Gaza delving into the heart of the matter. One such matter is the subject of “Perfection” on which both expound their views. “I’m quite content with only knowing about the way to perfection” – Anthony says (which implies his reluctance to be perfect). Brian is different – “I think I should w-want to exp-experience it too”. Anthony believes that this will hamper his liberty – “That’s the trouble with all single-minded activity; it costs you your liberty” – (meaning that any single-minded activity will involve all the faculties of a human being – intellectual and emotional). Brian, however, knows the point at which all opposites meet – “But if you w-want to be f-free, you’ve got to be a p-prisoner. It’s the condition of freedom – t-true freedom”. A surfeit of intellectualism, however, always goes hand in hand with cynicism, and that is the problem with Anthony – True freedom! I always love that kind of argument. The contrary of a thing isn’t its contrary; oh, dear me, no! It’s the thing itself, but as it truly is. Ask a diehard what conservatism is; he’ll tell you it’s true socialism….But I like being free, so I won’t have anything to do with true freedom.44 Later, when Brian tells him that after thirty he would devote himself to “getting at people”, and “to r-realizing the k-kingdom of G-god”, Anthony is profoundly touched, but reacts against his emotion at once, thus deriding his friend instead of encouraging him. For all his intellect, this is a “brainless response”, for which he is thoroughly ashamed soon afterwards. Such conflicting responses occur very early – in 1912. By 1926, much has happened in his life – Brian’s betrothal to Joan; Mary Amberley becoming Anthony’s mistress; Mary’s instigation of Anthony to have an affair with Joan merely because it tickled her sense of humour; Brian’s discovery of the betrayal, and his subsequent suicide. Yet, after a long eight years when Anthony finally persuades himself to attend Mary’s party again (because “what right had the man of 1914 to commit the man of 1926?), he can see her again and join her party with perfect equanimity and aloofness. A more emotional person would invariably have met her again with some of the bitterness of the past, and the memory of Brian “in the chalk-pit” haunting him. The only difference with 1912 is that Anthony has become calmer and more composed; his cynicism, instead of being overt and conspicuously cultivated, has now become a part of his nature – easy and casual. This is evident, for instance, in his assessment of Gerry Watchett – But then, I insist, people like Gerry are an essential part of any liberal education. There was something really rather magnificent about him when he was rich….now, just a gangster. But that’s the fascinating thing – the ease with which aristocrats turn into gangsters.45

Eyeless in Gaza 103 Or in his summing-up of an India-based Englishman – The club every evening between six and eight; parties at government house; adultery in the hot weather; polo in the cold; incessant bother with the Indian servants; permanent money difficulties and domestic scenes; occasional touches of malaria and dysentery; the monthly parcel of second-hand novels from the Times Book Club; and all the time the inexorable advance of age – twice as fast as in England.46 The only period of his life in which Anthony is somewhat natural in his feelings is when he is a little boy – 1902 in the novel – and has thus not yet learned to control emotions till they become almost non-existent. Chronologically taken, the novel begins with the death of Anthony’s mother on 6 November 1902, and characteristically, as a child, he can only feel that something terrible has happened; he cannot really understand its significance. Before the funeral he cannot keep his tears in check – And suddenly the wheels of the train began to chant articulately. Dead-a-dead-a-dead, they shouted….The tears overflowed, were warm for an instant upon his cheeks, then icy-cold.47 In the church it is worse, for its walls seem to be hemming him in with the blackness of death, and he sobs uncontrollably. Yet, on the same day, after the funeral, when he returns to Waterloo, they take a cab, and his feelings are completely different – Stepping cautiously on the smooth slope, the horse moved forward; the cab heaved like a ship. Inaudibly, Anthony hummed the “Washington Post”. Riding in a hansom always made him inordinately happy.48 He can also feel embarrassed at his father’s exaggerated show of sentiment. What we see here is that as a little boy he can express his emotions as he feels them, and not as he ought to feel them. The cynicism that he later develops towards emotion of any kind can perhaps be an outcome of the embarrassment that he feels as a child towards his father’s ridiculous manner of expressing sentiment by using school-boyish colloquialisms. Actually, during this period of his life he finds himself unable to show unnatural feelings or those feelings which do not come naturally to him. He hates putting up a show of grief at his mother’s death at school, and being unable to joke with the other boys, or eat hungrily at the table – “It was almost, Anthony found, like being sent to Coventry”. So constrained is he to act his grief, that when Brian speaks in a natural manner to him, he is quite grateful to him for doing so. That is why when the two boys

104  Eyeless in Gaza get up in the middle of the night to sail a ship, Anthony’s normal emotions find a natural outlet – “I was th-thinking just n-now”, he said, “it might have been my mother. Oh B-b-beavis, it m-must be too awful!” Anthony had looked at him, in the first moment of surprise, with an expression of suspicion, almost fear on his face. But as the other stammered on, this first hardening resistance melted away, and now, without feeling ashamed of what he was doing, he began to cry.49 After this, it is only when he is alone with Brian that he can express himself as he truly is. Of course, that camaraderie lasts till Brian commits suicide. That marks the end, too, of the natural Anthony, the Anthony who had at least one friend in whom he could emotionally confide. For twenty long years after Brian’s death Anthony lives the life of “two imbeciles and one intellectual” – because he lives totally and completely as an intellectual, eschewing any kind of feeling and emotion apart from what is essential to make the body work. The first real jolt to this kind of incomplete existence comes in the form of a dog dropping from the sky onto the terrace on which he and Helen had been making love. Just before this incident, Helen had been accusing him for being someone who always takes “everything” from other people, giving them “nothing” in return. The dog is crushed into pulp with the impact of the fall, and its blood is spattered grotesquely over the bodies of the two lovers lying nearby. This incident affects Helen directly far more than it affects Anthony, for her feelings and emotions are sharp and active, whereas Anthony has almost totally lost the capacity to feel anything at all. But the immediate outcome is that Helen, shocked out of having anything to do with someone who is more of a think-tank than a human being, declares that she is going to take herself off from him forever, never to meet him again. Anthony needed the shock of Helen’s desertion to realize that he has indeed actually and irrevocably fallen in love with her, and has so far deep within himself wanted a relationship of giving and taking, but has so far ignored such stirrings of his heart, and conditioned himself to intellectualism. The incident of the dog is significant in Anthony’s life in so far as it thrusts him back to a life of emotion – something that he, coward that he has always been, has carefully avoided. His very language changes, becomes more mellowed, and less proud and cynical. Before Helen expresses her decision to go away from him forever, he tries to make light of the gruesome spectacle of the mangled dog in front of him, as is his habit – You look like Lady Macbeth”, he said, with another effort at jocularity….”Out vile spot. This beastly stuff’s drying on me. Like seccotine”. For all answer, Helen covered her face with her hands and began to sob.50

Eyeless in Gaza 105 Later on, the dead dog returns to him in his dreams, and reminds him of “Brian in the chalk-pit, evoked by that salty smell of sun-warmed flesh, and again dead at the cliff’s foot, among the flies – like that dog”.51 After this, he decides to write a letter to Helen after several attempts at meeting her have failed. Helen derides the letter heartlessly, and insists on reading it out openly and mockingly at a party; but the letter, nevertheless, is Anthony’s first real attempt at the language of pure emotion – ….kneeling on the roof after that horrible thing had happened, suddenly I realized that I’d been living a kind of outrageous lie towards you!….I realized that in spite of all the elaborate pretence that it was just a kind of detached, irresponsible amusement, I really loved you.52 This new-found love discovers in him a humility which had so far been buried under the pride of intellectual superiority – As she came into the restaurant, it was like a drowning man’s instantaneous vision of life. A futile, bad, unsatisfactory life; and a vision charged with regret….A history for whose sad and embittering quality I was at least in part responsible.53 The change in tone begins from Helen, but continues all other acquaintances until, with the influence of Miller, he goes closer to becoming a complete human being, spreading the dictum, “Force may subdue, but Love gains”. It is also remarkable here that he is attracted to Miller and his doctrines not by intellectually assessing them, but instinctively and emotionally. The fact of Helen breaking off her relationship with Anthony, apart from changing his outlook completely, also has other implications. Anthony’s betrayal of his friend, Brian, is the ultimate betrayal – a betrayal of friendship, trust, affection, and all the values that Brian and his mother had instilled in Anthony. And there is no actual cause for such treachery. No love is involved between himself and Joan; no enmity exists between him and his friend; the act is merely done to please the outrageous whims of his mistress, Mary Amberley, who knows neither Joan nor Brian, and has nothing whatsoever to do with them. The temporary physical closeness which Anthony shares with Joan means absolutely nothing to him. What he does not realize is that it is eminently meaningful to a simple-minded person like Joan, and even more so to Brian, whose life-blood is sucked out with his sense of hurt and crushed friendship. Helen’s desertion of Anthony seems to be his punishment for having usurped Brian’s girl. Eyeless in Gaza is a novel in which the characters have to meet with the just consequences of their acts, and Anthony is no exception. With profound irony, Helen rejects Anthony’s protestations of love at the very moment in which he realizes that it has

106  Eyeless in Gaza become difficult for him to live without her. He has to do without Helen in the same way that he had forced Brian to do without Joan. He has to go through the same pain that he had inflicted on Brian – It was not jealousy he felt when he looked from one glad face to the other – not jealousy, but an unhappiness so acute that it was like a physical pain.54 [The glad faces were of Helen and Ekki, who loved each other.] “I’ve loved him so much, I want to go on loving him. But he doesn’t seem to want to allow me to. It ought to be so beautiful; but he does his best to make it all seem ugly and horrible”, says Joan to Anthony of Brian’s refusal to indulge in physical passion towards her. These lines seem to echo Helen’s complaint about Anthony later in 1933. The only difference is that Brian had refused to allow Joan to love him by a barrier of morality; Anthony does the same to Helen by a barrier of intellect. *  *  * Brian Foxe, Anthony’s friend, is one of those saintly characters who come to a tragic end because of their saintliness – that is, he is a martyr who has to suffer for a cause. Brian may have been very close to Anthony, but there is as much difference between them as there is between Christ and Judas, who betrayed his master for thirty pieces of silver. The problem with Brian is that like most saints he has the understanding of those truths which are beyond most ordinary people, but he lacks the power to express what he understands. This inability is embodied in an inarticulate stammer which marks his speech, and which, apart from marking him out as the butt of laughter and jokes, also prevents him from expressing himself as he would like to. It is common knowledge that Brian is modelled on Aldous Huxley’s elder brother, Trevenan, whose presence and devotion had helped him to find his place in the university even in a half-sightless condition. The parallel between Trevenan and Brian is too real to ignore. Both were sincere about their work, both suffered from depression after being unable to rise up to their own high standards, and both committed suicide after being unlucky in love. Moreover, Trevenan had the same disability in speech, which is such an unfortunate characteristic in Brian. But notwithstanding the autobiographical parallel, Brian becomes the first and only real martyr in Huxley’s writings. Eyeless in Gaza is rather different from the earlier novels because it not only shows the flaws and weaknesses of the society through representative characters but also portrays people who act as a foil to the debasement and meaninglessness around them, people whose lives are a lesson for the others. Miller’s goodness is strong enough to influence even hardened intellectual cynics like Anthony, but on Mark it makes no difference. Miller is a prophet, not a martyr, and unlike

Eyeless in Gaza 107 Brian, has no problems with expressing himself – rather, his mastery of language is one of his biggest trump-cards. Miller is never at a loss for words; Brian is always so. One reason for this is that Brian’s goodness is true virtue, inherent in his system, and so natural to him, that it cannot be analysed or explained. Brian’s tendency to indulge his inner goodness at the cost of the claims of his body, is objectively represented by his stammer, his unimpressive appearance (“Horse-Face”), and his reluctance to have any physical relationship with his sweetheart. The first thing that strikes us about Brian is his contrast with Anthony – something that Huxley takes pains to stress. It is essential that Anthony be shown to be a flawed character at the beginning, because the later change in him can then be all the more conspicuous. With Brian this is irrelevant, because he is a person in whom his saintliness is his only flaw, and in the ten years or so that we see him, he does not give himself a chance to be more human: he prefers to die rather than do that. It is he who, with his instinctive love of nature and everything around him, teaches Anthony to love and appreciate nature with a Wordsworthian colouring of the imagination; the stars, he tells Anthony in Bulstrode, are perhaps people, probably alive; and in the holidays, which he most often spends with Anthony, he shows him how to get real pleasure through bird-watching. But he has the courage of his convictions, more because his convictions come naturally to him; and this is more than what one can say of Anthony. Anthony is a coward, especially with his inordinate fear of being laughed at. That is why Brian remains undisturbed when Staithes mocks him for his bird-mania, while Anthony, though sharing with him this pleasure in the holidays, joins the others in this mockery at school. The same goes for Brian’s standing-up for the not-so-popular, not-so-fortunate boys at school, and his genuine pleasure at helping poor children who are brought in and helped by his mother at home. A case in point is that incident in which Mark Staithes and the other boys find Hugh Ledwidge masturbating, and begin throwing slippers at him as punishment – in which punishment Anthony too joins heartily. None of the boys, even if he does have scruples about this kind of behaviour, has the courage to express his reservations in public, and much less Anthony himself. It is only Brian who shouts at everyone to stop, and so reproachful is his look, that Anthony feels “a twinge of shame” – something he immediately tries to shake off. Brian, however, has the courage to face everyone else, even Mark Staithes, the bully. “It isn’t f-fair”, he says, “F-five against one”. (His sense of fairness is inherent.) “But you don’t know what he was doing” – Mark tries to convince him (and it is actually a victory to Brian that Mark takes the trouble to convince him at all!) “I don’t c-c-c-….don’t mind”. (Brian, the person who is the most disgusted with physical activities, is more concerned with the injustice of the situation than with what “Goggler” is doing.)

108  Eyeless in Gaza Staithes proceeds to describe the incident for him in the dirtiest language he knows, causing Brian to blush in shame and misery. They all, including Anthony, laugh derisively at his blush – for Anthony now has “had time to feel ashamed of his shame”, and is now almost hating Brian “for being so disgustingly pi”. But Anthony’s thoughts are not so simple – If he hated Horse-Face, it was because Horse-Face was so extraordinarily decent; because Horse-Face had the courage of convictions which Anthony felt should also be his convictions….It was just because he liked Horse-Face so much that he now hated him…. Horse-Face was rich with all sorts of fine qualities that he himself either lacked completely….or else was incapable of manifesting.55 Anthony realizes the moral superiority of Brian over himself and does his best to overcome the grudging admiration that he feels for him. This tendency to overcome his positive feelings towards Brian, and give in to the envy and derision that engulfs his mind at times, remains with Anthony for all the short ten years that he has of friendship with Brian. It is probably one of the reasons why he gives in so readily to Mary Amberley’s “bet”. He has derided Brian’s “chastity” towards Joan in one of his evenings with Mary, till he has made it seem that chastity “is the most unnatural of all sexual perversions”. Somehow he finds a kind of perverse pleasure in giving in to the temptation of deriding Brian, and in this case he does so solely for Mary’s amusement and appreciation. Thus he has, even before betraying his love, betrayed his faith, his trust in him as a friend. He realizes what he has done, only too late – The virulent contempt in her voice made him suddenly remember, for the first time since he had begun this story, that Brian was his friend, that Joan had been genuinely unhappy. Too late he wanted to explain that, in spite of all appearances to the contrary, there was nobody he liked and admired and respected more than Brian…. But no amount of interior eloquence could alter the fact that he had betrayed confidences and been malicious without apology or qualifying explanation.56 The tug-of-war in Anthony’s mind between devotion and resentment towards his friend, is never forgotten. And as always, Anthony invariably gives in to his negative self. Thus, devotion towards his friend is buried beneath his devotion to the rather base demand of his mistress, and this results in his ultimate betrayal, and the death of the only real friend he ever had. What is amusement to one is death to the other. Anthony realizes this at too great a cost. Brian’s “chastity”, as Anthony calls it, is integrally related to his Christian upbringing and his truly Christian frame of mind – as opposed

Eyeless in Gaza 109 to the un-Christian outlooks of everyone else around him. In this respect he is placed in sharp contrast to all the other characters in this novel, including Miller, who represents more a humanitarian than a Christian standpoint. Anthony’s background is entirely un-Christian, (“My pater doesn’t go to Church”; “He doesn’t believe in that sort of thing”; “My uncle, he doesn’t even believe in God. I don’t either”.57 – etc.), and whatever influence Brian’s mother had exercised in his childhood, is somewhat shaken off after his acquaintance with Mary Amberley, and totally after Brian’s death. That is probably why he is so quickly attracted to Miller’s doctrines, and for so long rejects Brian’s world view. Brian’s whole life not only revolves around the Christian theism that his mother had ingrained in him but also moves according to the dictum “Love thy neighbour as thyself”. The Christian dislike of physical pleasure and comfort comes naturally to him, for asceticism and charity are some of his greatest qualities. His charity extends not only to unfortunate children and to Goggler but also to everyone around him, and even to Mark Staithes, who cannot bear to be treated patronizingly by anyone. Just before the voting at the university for the President of the next term, fought for by both Brian and Mark, Brian announces to Anthony that he has decided to step down. His reasons are typical of him – “Mark’ll be a b-better president than I….B-besides, he was so aw-awfully k-keen on g-getting lected”. Even saying this makes him conscience-stricken, for he does not really wish Anthony to think that he is implying a criticism of Mark. Indeed, he has not anticipated Mark’s reaction to his withdrawal. Mark, of course, regards it as an insult, and refusing to “accept charity”, he withdraws too, demanding an explanation from Anthony of Brian’s “bad behaviour”. Anthony explains – “He thinks he’s being nice to you”. Mark is even angrier – “I don’t want his damned niceness. Why can’t he behave properly?” Anthony replies – “Because it amuses him to behave like a Christian”. Of course, Mark does not like “Christian tricks” being played on him, and refuses to have anything to do with them.58 It is Brian’s ambition to be as single-minded as a saint, because to him single-minded activity is “the condition of freedom – t-true freedom”. He has decided on the course of his life – I’ve decided that I shall g-go on with ph-philosophy and l-literature and h-history till I’m thirty….Then it’ll be t-time to do something else….In getting at p-people. In r-realizing the k-kingdom of God.59 In spite of his ostensible derision, Anthony is moved, though of course, only superficially. Ironically, it is Brian’s Christian saintliness which becomes his hamartia. No doubt his mother, under cover of teaching morality to her son, has rather overdone it. She has taught him that physical love is disgusting in order to maintain control over him and to prevent him from being

110  Eyeless in Gaza too influenced by another woman – Joan, in this case. No doubt, she is a “spiritual vampire”, as Mary terms her; but the fact remains that Brian has been brought up to believe that physical urges are wrong. The problem with him is that for all his saintly disposition, he cannot come to terms with the realization that Joan is eminently human, with all the urges of a hungry body, especially when she is in love. Love to him cannot, will not, be made so base as to abandon all its wonderful spiritual implications and embrace what is merely animalistic and worldly – B-but you th-think”, he said, “that mystical experiences b-brings one into c-contact with t-truth? And so does going to bed. [Anthony replies.] “D-does it?” Brian forced himself to ask. He disliked this sort of conversation, disliked it more than ever now that he was in love with Joan – in love, and yet (he hated himself for it) desiring her basely, wrongly.60 It is not so with Joan, who is ready to love and depend on Brian with both body and mind, and to whom physical love is both coveted and beautiful. It is absolutely incomprehensible to her why Brian should be so averse to sex. Sometimes his armour does break, and he kisses her passionately, but immediately after he draws away, ashamed. Not to be able to control his physical urges is weakness to him, and Brian Foxe will not be spiritually weak. How unlike his friend Anthony, who will even betray his friend, rather than forego his sexual relationship with Mary! Joan speaks unhappily later of this peculiar aversion when she meets Anthony – He said he wanted to be worthy of me. Worthy of love. But all that happened was that he made me feel unworthy.61 Brian is quite unaware that he is causing Joan so much unhappiness; rather, he has built up a mental picture of a Madonna, which he refuses to spoil – Not love her? he was thinking. But the trouble was that he loved her too much, loved her in a bad way, even though she was the best.62 Joan, of course, is innocent and sex-starved enough to interpret a kiss as love and marriage, and with this misconception of Anthony’s kiss, accuses Brian directly (in a letter) of hurting her because he would not give in to his sexual impulses – Brian dear, I’m unspeakably sorry to be hurting you….But this thing has just happened in the same way as it just happened that you hurt

Eyeless in Gaza 111 me because of that fear that you’ve always had of love. You didn’t want to hurt me, but you did; you couldn’t help it.63 Brian is human, and so he is hurt, terribly hurt. His first reaction is one of anger and hatred against Anthony, whose unprecedented betrayal has made him lose confidence in all people, most of all the people whom he has so far loved and trusted. And this terrible feeling of all that he has believed in crashing down round his ears is couched in the strongest language that he is capable of – I’m all broken to pieces inside….It’s as if a broken statue somehow contrived to hold itself together. And now this has finished it….yes, if I were to see anyone who has ever meant anything to me, I should just break down and fall to bits.64 Brian’s moral outlook had made up his world. Anthony’s betrayal had broken up his world for him. Making him unable to face life any longer. But as a human being, even though these reactions of anger and hatred are to be expected, Brian is no mere human being. So, as a saint, he prefers to accept martyrdom for his ideals. He dies, feeling no hatred against the friend who has brought his life to shambles, but only pity, Christlike in its sentiment – Forgive them oh Lord, for they know not what they do – I was angry with you when I began to write this letter, I hated you; but now I find I don’t hate you any longer. God bless you.65 Huxley’s own feelings on Trevenan’s death aptly sums up Brian – There is – apart from the sheer grief of the loss – an added pain in the cynicism of the situation. It is just the highest and best in Trevenan – his ideals – which have driven him to his death – while there are thousands who shelter their weakness from the same fate by a cynical, unidealistic outlook on life. Trev was not strong, but he had the courage to face life with ideals – and his ideals were too much for him.66 *  *  * Brian’s life is more influenced by his mother than even he is aware of. The manner in which Mrs. Foxe is drawn makes her lose some of her credibility, which is somewhat rare in Huxley’s characters. Lack of credibility is not usually one of Huxley’s faults, because, writing in the form of the Novel of Ideas, he draws characters representing one particular human trait. Everything this character says or does corresponds to this

112  Eyeless in Gaza trait, which also means that all other human qualities are completely ignored. This makes the person one-sided and flat, no doubt, but not self-contradictory. Mrs. Foxe, in many respects, is self-contradictory. When we first meet her in 1902, immediately after the death of Anthony’s mother, we see her as an admirable woman in every sense of the term. She is the epitome of good motherhood where Brian is concerned, and universal motherhood where Anthony and all her charity children are concerned. All the qualities for which we like and admire Brian have been instilled in him by his mother. It is she who invites Anthony to stay with her and Brian in the holidays, so that he will not be deprived of enjoyment totally. She denies any claim to gratitude with characteristic modesty – “But I’m so glad to have him”, she says, “Selfishly glad – for Brian’s sake”.67 This modesty, this feeling of actually having done nothing, at least not as one would have liked to, is equally evident in her feelings about her work among crippled children – the Cripple schools she has been helping to organize, the little bit of happiness she gives them by simply supplying them with food, toys, and books, and the hope she deals out to those whose families cannot give any – And our reward…. is the same heart-breaking happiness I was speaking of just now….Each time I see this happiness, I ask myself what right I have to be in a position to give it so easily, just by spending a little money and taking a tiny bit of pleasant trouble. Yes, what right?68 To Brian she is the most wonderful woman in the world, and the closeness that she shares with her son intensifies this feeling – Together they walked out into the garden. Her hand was on his shoulder. She smelt faintly of Eau-de-Cologne, and all at once (and this also, it seemed, was part of her wonderfulness) the sun came out from behind a cloud.69 The tremendous love and admiration that Brian feels for his mother makes him realize sincerely the pain which Anthony must be experiencing for the loss of his mother – “I was th-thinking just n-now, it m-might have been my mother. Oh, B-b-beavis, it m-must be too awful!”70 And to his mother, one day, he impulsively expresses himself – “It must be dreadful n-not to have a m-mother”. Such feelings are mutual – “Dreadful also not to have a son”.71 Anthony, as a suffering child, and as Brian’s friend, also comes under the wing of Mrs. Foxe, and gets a share of her understanding

Eyeless in Gaza 113 and love. “You know, Anthony, you mustn’t be afraid of thinking about her”, she tells Anthony one night, when she comes to comfort his loneliness and give him company. “You mustn’t be afraid of suffering….thinking about her will make you sad….But if you don’t think about her, you condemn her to a second death….The dead can only have this kind of immortality if the living are prepared to give it them. Will you give it her, Anthony?”72 She has not much more than words to comfort a child with, but her words bring more comfort to him than what a whole world of people, including his father, could have done. So happy is he in her company and that of his friend, that he is positively disappointed when his father proposes a holiday in Switzerland instead of sending him as usual to Tenby. And no wonder, for Anthony finds that there is no one who understands him as much as Brian’s mother does. Mr. Beavis complains to her one day of Anthony’s seeming indifference to the death of his mother – “And yet there are times when he seems strangely indifferent”. Mrs. Foxe, however, can see below this stiff external veneer – Yes”, she said, “he wears a kind of armour. Covers up his vulnerability in the most exposed place, and at the same time uncovers it elsewhere….It’s self-protection.73 The fact that Mrs. Foxe is no ordinary woman is reflected in her appearance, her dress, her bearing, as also in her speech. Even Mr. Beavis is slightly intimidated by her personality – She was a tall woman, slender and very upright, with something so majestic in her carriage, so nobly austere in the lines and expression of her face, that Mr. Beavis always felt slightly intimidated and ill at ease in her presence.74 And indeed, Mr. Beavis had just cause to feel ill at ease before her, for she is a woman who will not tolerate sham or pretension of any kind, least of all the emotional kind which he positively exudes. Her evaluation of people like him is astoundingly correct – Mrs. Foxe found herself suddenly thinking that there were also cripples of the spirit. People with emotions so lame and rickety that they didn’t know how to feel properly; people with some kind of hunch or deformity in their power of expression. John Beavis was probably one of them.75 But she also tries her best to think well of people – a trait which Brian inherits to an even greater extent – and so she extends her warmth to Mr. Beavis, too –

114  Eyeless in Gaza There was something rather distasteful to her in his manner and words, something that jarred upon her sensibilities. But she hastened to banish the disagreeable impression from her mind. After all, the essential fact was that the poor man had suffered, was still suffering.76 It is quite unbelievable that such a woman can be the cause of her son’s suffering, and indirectly, his death. But that is true. By the time we come to 1912, she has changed. That is the only explanation we can give for the completely different person that we see at this period. Her positive qualities have been eclipsed completely out of consideration, and her role as a “spiritual vampire” has been emphasized so much that we quite forget that she had ever been that admirable, wonderful woman that we had seen ten years ago. No doubt, Anthony has his explanation for this sudden change – explanations which begin from the moment Brian brings Joan before his mother for her approval – If he fell in love he most certainly wouldn’t take the girl to be inspected by his father and Pauline….Mrs. Foxe was different, of course; one could take her more seriously than Pauline or his father. But all the same, one wouldn’t want her to interfere….For the superiority constituted a kind of claim on one, gave her certain rights…. He was very fond of Mrs. Foxe, he loved and respected her; but for that very reason he felt her as a potential menace to his freedom.77 Huxley tries to re-establish the fact that Anthony still respects and admires Mrs. Foxe, but in the very same breath opens a quite different side of which we have had no hint. The very quality for which he had been admired so much – her direct involvement in her son’s upbringing and ideological conditioning – is now made to boomerang into a fault, and later into a hideous crime. The point of time in which he begins to question her views and outlook is not clear, and the change in his attitude towards Mrs. Foxe does seem very sudden. The point remains that she has not asked her son to bring over her sweetheart for her approval; but once he does, being a woman with very definite ideas, she is bound to express her opinions and expect them to be respected. This strength of personality cannot and should not be interpreted as a fault and still less be compared with the weak, brainless Pauline whom Mr. Beavis has married. The fact that Pauline does not have personality enough to influence people by her opinions does not mean that it is a fault in Mrs. Foxe to have the character to demand recognition and respect. But Huxley does turn it into a fault. And that is why the character of Mrs. Foxe loses credibility as the novel progresses. One cannot help feeling that Mrs. Foxe is turned into a villain to suit the plot of the novel. Before 1912, there had been no sign that a mother’s love can result

Eyeless in Gaza 115 in anything but good. After 1912, even her love is shown to contain more potential evil than practical good. Mary Amberley, whose opinion, admissibly, is not supposed to be the ideal one in the novel, tells Anthony that she had often thought of “founding a league for the abolition of families. Parents ought never to be allowed to come near their children”. When Anthony asks her whether she had ever been bullied by her parents, she answers – “Horribly. Few children have been more loved than I was. They fairly bludgeoned me with affection. Made me a mental cripple”.78 That Mary’s opinion should be taken with a pinch of salt is proved by the fact that a very similar opinion had been voiced by the Director of the futuristic “ideal” society of Brave New World, Mustapha Mond, about the home-life and parentage which his world had abolished – And home was as squalid psychically as physically. Psychically it was a rabbit hole, a midden, hot with the functions of tightly packed life, reeking with emotion. What suffocating intimacies, what dangerous, insane, obscene relationships between the members of the family group! Maniacally, the mother brooded over her children (her children)….brooded over them like a cat over its kittens; but a cat that could talk, a cat that could say, “My baby, my baby”, over and over again… “Yes”, said Mustapha Mond, “you may well shudder”.79 Perhaps Mary’s ideas are not to be taken for granted. But they do reflect somewhat on Mrs. Foxe and affect the impression of the reader. When she says – “All the love she never got from her husband, all the love she never gave him – it’s being poured out on that miserable boy” – she is actually telling the reader what to think of Mrs. Foxe. Indeed, all Mary’s predictions do come true. Brian does become miserable through his mother – though that is not for the love that she showers on him, but for the jealousy she feels towards Joan. All of a sudden, after Joan appears on the scene, we see not a loving mother, but a jealous woman, doing her best to prevent her son from having a healthy relationship with the woman he loves. At first she is still generous and unselfish – I’m glad it’s Joan, and I’m glad you care so much. Though in a way it’s a pity you met her when you did. Because, I’m afraid, it’ll be such a weary long time before you’ll be able to get married.80 And she even reminds Brian that it is time to go for dinner with the Thursleys, Joan’s parents. But this soliciting attitude, and its very display produces in Brian a sense of guilt for leaving his mother to keep Joan company, and this guilt makes her resentful. It is remarkable how in this novel positive feelings somehow have negative results.

116  Eyeless in Gaza This generosity does not last long. Two months later Brian returns from Germany, and the first person he meets is Joan, who has come to the station to meet him. Innocently he speaks of this meeting to his mother, and unpredictably, she is both indignant and angry, regarding it as “bad faith” on the part of Joan, who she pictures as “stealing surreptitiously to the station to catch him”. Of course, she does not make her feelings evident. She unknowingly is showing those very signs of deviousness and falsehood which she had disliked in Mr. Beavis. She tries to feel ashamed of her feelings – “….still very understandable…. very excusable. When one’s in love….and Joan was an impulsive, emotional character” – but these words ring false, whereas her first sharp reaction was much more genuine. As such, she cannot prevent herself from speaking to Joan about it – “Mind?” Mrs. Foxe repeated. “But, my dear, why should I? I only thought we’d agreed on today. But of course, if you felt you absolutely couldn’t wait….”81 Joan, instead of feeling the respect and admiration that everyone has for Mrs. Foxe, rather hates her for it. And then there is that question of Brian not agreeing to live on his mother’s money till he earned his own. The net result of this is that Brian is unable to marry Joan till much later. Joan is very indignant, and instead of regarding it as a heroic act, as his mother does, she holds Mrs. Foxe responsible for making Brian think such an act to be heroic. “I believe it was mostly his mother’s doing”, she tells Anthony, who is surprised – “But she told me that Mrs. Foxe had tried to insist on his taking it”. Joan positively bristles at this – Oh, she made it seem as though she wanted him to take it….She kept telling him that it wasn’t wrong to take the money, and that he ought to think about me and get married…And that’s where her falseness came in – pretending to think that I wanted him to refuse it, and congratulating me and him on what we’d done. Saying we were heroic and all that. And so encouraging him to go on with the idea.82 This deviousness, probably aimed at postponing Brian’s marriage to Joan as much as she possibly can, is completely alien to Mrs. Foxe’s character till it is time for Brian to marry. Moreover, as the novel progresses, we see Mrs. Foxe less, and hear of her more. The negative part of her character is more reported through conversations between Anthony and Joan, than shown first hand. Which further leads us into wondering whether Huxley himself felt the latter Mrs. Foxe as unviable enough to prevent her from being shown too often. Anthony’s

Eyeless in Gaza 117 comment, “The best is the enemy of the good”, is not merely ironical; it somehow does not refer to Mrs. Foxe too well. For she is not the best at this juncture of the novel. The best being the enemy of the good may rather be applied to Brian, who, in his attempt to act according to the principles he has set himself, manages only to subvert whatever good there is around him, and make it seem “dirty and criminal”, as Joan terms it. Mrs. Foxe is later shown to call them “heroic young people” in her richly vibrant voice, but that, coming as it does after Joan’s conversation with Anthony, does not serve the purpose of “showing” for the first time and allowing the reader to make his own judgement. This is where the erratic time scheme of the novel becomes so important – the future is shown before the past, and made to affect its interpretation. It needs tragedy to make Mrs. Foxe return to her senses. At the end we are made to have a rather colourless glimpse of the Mrs. Foxe as she had formerly been, but a glimpse it certainly is. She first breaks down into tears on hearing Anthony’s story, but within the next day has collected herself into – ….a different kind of calm. The calm of a living, sentient being, not the mechanical and frozen stillness of a statue. There were dark lines under her eyes, and the face was that of an old and suffering woman; but there was a sweetness and serenity in the suffering, and expression of dignity, almost of majesty.83 And with it comes a painful realization – “I realize now that I loved him in the wrong way – too possessively”. Anthony, too, realizes what a coward he really is, and in spite of himself, admits that Mrs. Foxe, whatever her faults, at least has the courage to face the truth – A vampire – but she knew it; she admitted her share of responsibility. There remained his share, still unconfessed.84 *  *  * Mr. Beavis, Anthony’s father, is a very ordinary person, but unlike Mrs. Foxe, he remains credible to the end. He is because, from the very beginning, he adheres to a single type – the pretentious and hypocritical scholar, whereas Mrs, Foxe is made to serve the purpose of two types – the representative of liberal Christianity, and the over-possessive mother. Mr. Beavis, moreover, more than any other character in the novel, is delineated through his speech habits. Others have a percentage of action to their credit – action illustrating what they represent. Mr. Beavis acts only once – by marrying the insipid and fleshly Pauline. If he does not talk, he thinks, and his thoughts are in the language of his speeches – as different from

118  Eyeless in Gaza Anthony, who speaks in an urbane, sophisticated manner, and thinks in sketchy and broken sentences. This is greatly intensified by the fact that Mr. Beavis is a philologist and works professionally with words. The fact that Mr. Beavis’s words carry no conviction even to himself, is communicated to us through a number of devices, one of them being the repetition of words – as though by repeating something over and over again, he is trying to convince himself of its reality. After the death of Maisie, his first wife, he tries to think of some appropriate lines of mourning – Stay for me there, I shall not fail To meet me in that hollow vale. And then again – “But all the same, oh, all the same, stay for me, stay for me, stay, stay”.85 It is as if he is forcing the thoughts into his mind repetitively, trying to stamp in the fact that he will make Maisie stay alive for him, even if his mind becomes involved in other worldly matters. Much later, after Anthony has gone back to school, he looks through her dresses hanging in the wardrobe – But what was left of her had been burnt, and the ashes were at the bottom of that pit in Lollingdon churchyard. “Stay for me there”, John Beavis whispered articulately in the silence.86 Towards Anthony he feels a deep sorrow – sorrow for a motherless child, but even this has to be repeated in his mind several times for its total effect on his consciousness – “Poor child!” his father said to himself; and then overbidding as it were, “Poor motherless child!” he added deliberately, and was glad (for he wanted to suffer) that the words should cost him so much pain to pronounce. And again after the church service – John Beavis released the hand he was holding and, laying his hand round the boy’s shoulders, pressed the thin little body against his own…. “Poor child! Poor motherless child!”87 Later, when he takes Anthony to spend the holidays at Mrs. Foxe’s, he expresses his gratitude to her – “And I can’t tell you how much it will mean for….” he hesitated for an instant; then….with a little shake of the head and in a lower tone, “for this poor motherless little fellow of mine”, he went on, “to spend his holidays here with you.”88

Eyeless in Gaza 119 Mr. Beavis’s idiom becomes the very epitome of pose and pretension. That is why, whenever Anthony poses as something he is not, he unconsciously begins to use the language of his father – which shows that however critical and contemptuous he is of his father, he is in reality not really very much different from him; rather, he shares many of the weaknesses his father has, but does not care to hide. This line is typical – “And what have you been delving into recently?” he asked, in the sort of playfully archaic language that his father himself might have used.89 Or – “So frightfully sorry”, he scribbled in his note to Brian. “Suddenly remembered I’d booked myself for dinner tonight!” (Booked was one of his father’s favourite words – a word he ordinarily detested for its affectation. Writing a lie, he had found it coming spontaneously to his pen.) This reliance on archaisms and worn-out phrases is very typical of John Beavis – though it does relate to his profession as a philologist. Like many other characters of Huxley, John Beavis is recognizably based on an autobiographical personality – in this case, his own father, Leonard Huxley. So strong is this resemblance, that Huxley’s stepmother, Rosalind Huxley, felt impelled to protest against the portraiture. In his answer to her letter, Huxley regrets the likeness and explains how John Beavis came into being – Following a principle which I have always used….is to mingle tragedy with a certain amount of extravagance – I introduced the element of philology. This was based on descriptions given by Frieda Lawrence of her first husband, who was a philologist. Treated in a different manner, the character yet has a strong resemblance to the parson in D.H. Lawrence’s The Virgin and the Gypsy, a figure who was actually derived from the same source. After that it became necessary to fix the personage in time, as the inhabitant of a certain epoch. And here, I am afraid, quite unjustifiably, I made use of mannerisms and phrases, some of which were recognizably father’s. I had not thought that they would be recognizable to others, and am most distressed to find that they should have been.90 Yet, in spite of Huxley’s apology, the likeness between Mr. Beavis and Leonard Huxley is striking. But whatever the history behind John Beavis’s profession, Huxley manages to use philology as one of the means of highlighting the falsehood and affectation of the person.

120  Eyeless in Gaza The slang which he believes will be appreciated by his son, actually is detested by him, and makes the scholar seem ridiculous. For instance, he advises his son about good behaviour in the good behaviour in the following manner – And always be punctual. And don’t be greedy at mealtimes!” He hesitated, smiled in anticipation of what he was about to say, then launched his colloquialism: “however excellent the ‘grub’ may be.91 Such colloquialisms, however ridiculous in the mouth of a middle-aged man, may nevertheless be excused when the listener is a nine-year-old boy, even if this boy, like others of his age, attaches great importance to proper speaking. But when the listener is twenty-year-old Anthony, they point also to the naïveté of a man, who, however revered in philological circles, is actually an overgrown piece of immaturity. One particular incident is a glaring pointer to this – He straightened himself up and dipped first into one pocket, then into another. “Where on earth”, he said, frowning; then suddenly, as his most daring philological joke came to his mind, he changed his frown into a sly smile. “where on earth is my teeny weeny penis. Or to be accurate, my teeny, weeny, weeny….”. Anthony was so taken aback, that he could only return a blank, embarrassed stare to the knowing twinkle he gaily shot at him.92 Of course, Mr. Beavis then explains that “pencil” comes from “penecillus: diminutive of peniculus: double diminutive of penis”, which originally meant a tail. But to the youthful Anthony, recently inducted into the pleasures of female company through Mary Amberley, this joke is positively embarrassing. John Beavis understands words, works with words, knows their origins and nuances, writes books about them – but in spite of all, he knows nothing of what use to make of them. Such is the tragedy of the modern man – he knows much, but lacks the wisdom to put that knowledge to good use. Anthony’s attitude to his father is therefore, somewhat condescending. If this had been the only opinion available of his father, we would have been forced to share his views, none other being available; but other people also express their opinions which throw light on the character of Mr. Beavis with equal importance – Mrs. Foxe, James Beavis (John’s brother), and Anthony’s stepsister. Mrs, Foxe feels an initial surge of disgust towards John Beavis, her innate warmth and openness protesting against the falseness of his sentiments – There was something rather distasteful to her in his words and manner, something that jarred upon her sensibilities.

Eyeless in Gaza 121 A little later, she mentally assesses Anthony’s father more thoroughly – Mrs. Foxe found herself suddenly thinking that there were also cripples of the spirit. People with emotions so lame and rickety that they didn’t know how to feel properly; people with some kind of hunch or deformity in their power of expression. John Beavis was perhaps one of them. James Beavis, likewise, cannot hide his disgust at his brother. The sight of the fat, ungainly Pauline gorging on chocolatl, and his brother playfully forcing the sweets on her, fills him with such distaste, that he finds himself unable to speak. The only member of the family who has anything positive feelings towards this couple is their daughter, Diana – but even so, her attitude is more indulgent than respectful, rather as it would be towards little children – They were darlings, Diana was thinking; that went without saying. But how silly they could be, how inexpressibly silly! All the same, Anthony had no right to criticise them; and under that excessive politeness of his he obviously was criticizing them, the wretch! She felt quite indignant, nobody had a right to criticize them except herself, and possibly her sister.93 She dislikes Anthony’s condescending attitude towards them, wishing that he could be more natural and tolerant in his feelings towards them – which not only throws light on the character of her parents, but on that of her stepbrother too. *  *  * Of the other characters, three deserve particular mention – Mark Staithes, Mary Amberley, and, of course, Helen Ledwidge. Like Mrs. Foxe, Mark Staithes too is drawn somewhat inconsistently, emphasizing the fact that Huxley’s primary aim is to define the theme, and so important is this purpose, that minor details of character may be sacrificed for it. There is very little to reconcile the bully of Bulstrode with the stoic revolutionary that we see in Mexico. Again, we believe, Huxley has attempted to combine various types in one person, thus limiting the complexity of the novel, and accomplishing his purpose of projecting various types of personalities and integrating them into a social whole. In this respect, the characters of Point Counter Point are more consistent, whereas some characters in Eyeless in Gaza are undermined in favour of the didactic message. Huxley in Ends and Means draws attention to Dr. William Sheldon’s views on physiological types, which he regards as the closest to “a

122  Eyeless in Gaza genuinely scientific description of human types”.94 This he also connects with the two-fold classification in Stockard’s Physical Basis of Personality, where the author distinguishes between the “linear” and the “lateral” types of human beings. The “lateral” is the “rotund and jolly type”, whereas the “linear” is “unexpansive and inward-turning”.95 Sheldon believes that physique is one of the primary determinants of human behaviour, and he has developed a system of classification corresponding physique with temperament. The three types of physique are endomorphy (characterized by fat and over-eating), mesomorphy (distinguished by a muscular frame and a high capacity for physical endurance), and ectomorphy (with an over-active central nervous system, especially the brain, accompanied by a thin body). The corresponding categories of temperament are – viscerotonic (a sociable, calm type with a love of comfort, food, and affection), somatotonic (the adventurous type, going in for physical activity), and the cerebrotonic (the self-conscious, intellectual introvert). According to this categorization, Peter Bowering96 identifies Helen as a viscerotonic, Anthony as a cerebrotonic, and Mark Staithes as a somatotonic. This is the only respect in which Mark Staithes is consistent throughout the novel. At Bulstrode we see Mark as the school bully, whose word is supposed to be law, and who expects every boy to comply. This Mark is one who is always on the look-out for the slightest sign of weakness in anyone, and cashes in on this weakness immediately, so as to assert his superiority. The first time we meet him is at the dinner table at Bulstrode, soon after the death of Beavis’s mother, feeling “a passionate resentment” towards the solemn Beavis, who has dared not to be amused at his joke. Here he is joking at the expense of Agnes the maid. The next time he appears, he is again at someone else’s back, in this case, Hugh “Goggler” Ledwidge, who is caught masturbating in his cubicle. His tormenting of Ledwidge borders on cruelty, as he calls all the other boys together, and throws slippers at the half-naked little boy below him. Ironically, he calls Beavis to his side to join him in the persecution of Goggler, in order “to be specially decent to the poor chap because of his mater”97 and thus, “being nice” is to give him pleasure through the torment of someone else. In accordance with his somatotonic temperament, too, it should be noted, Staithes speaks little and acts more, his thoughts being reported to us through the narrator. Later, when his Manichaeistic tendencies become more evident, he becomes more loquacious, but even so, Anthony or Miller will out-talk him any time. His somatotonic character also makes him more a physical than a mental bully, and he is noticeably discomfited if he morally or intellectually challenged. Goggler is “predestined by weakness and timidity to inevitable persecution”98, and Brian is tormented for his unbecoming appearance (“Horse-Face”), his stammer, and his love of birds. Only Brian, however, has the moral courage to stand up for what he believes to be right, and though he is derided for it,

Eyeless in Gaza 123 (“disgustingly pi”), Mark, nevertheless, has to hide his moral inferiority by another show of derisive laughter. Later, his only answer to Brian’s incorrect Greek grammar puts him back into a good mood. Mark Staithes’s attitude to studies and examinations is another pointer to his rather pathetic struggle to be important. But the later Mark is somewhat changed. In 1903, he is “swotting” for a scholarship along with Anthony, Brian, and Hugh Ledwidge among others, and is assuring them all through that – The scholarship idea was his pater’s, not because of the money, he had hastened to add. His pater didn’t care a damn about money. But for the honour and glory, because it was a tradition in the Family. His pater himself, and his Uncles, his Fraters – they had all got schools. It wouldn’t do to let the Family down.99 In 1926, Anthony is meeting him after thirteen years. The only thing that Mark has in common with his former self is his indifference to wealth. “But do you really think that people with money or power are free?” he asks Anthony. Anthony says – “You’re forgetting the profits”. “They’re incidental”, he replies. And Anthony is quite convinced that to him “the profits are incidental”100. Apart from this, Mark is a changed person. His whole appearance, his behaviour, are all now a typical study in Manichaeism – a love of hideousness and ugliness – His hair had retreated from his forehead, and above the ears was already grey. The brown face….was deeply lined. No smooth obliterating layer of fat obscured its inner structure. Under the skin each strip of muscle in the cheek and jaw seemed to stand out distinct and separate like the muscles in those line-wood statues of flayed human beings that were made for Renaissance anatomy rooms. When he smiled, and each time that happened it was as though the flayed statue had come to life and were expressing its agony – one could follow the whole mechanism of excruciating grimace; the upward and outward pull of the zygomaticus major, the sideways tug of the risorius, the concentration of the great spincters round the eyelids.101 The very images suggest the twisted muscles, developed deliberately to thwart the beauty of the natural body. The mention of the muscles of the face during a smile, automatically suggests that to him smiling is entirely a physical act in which the facial muscles move in such and such way; there is neither mind nor spirit involved. Mark loves shocking people now – a kind of mental torment taking the place of the physical pain he relished in inflicting upon people during his childhood. In Mary Amberley’s party of music, dance, and free love, he relates a story about a “thing” called a woman whom he had met in

124  Eyeless in Gaza a Mexico pub, who wears rubber breasts and takes them out in public. Also, in the face of Mary’s utter disgust, he describes in detail how civet is prepared from “the excrement of polecats”, and declares that “the poor can’t afford to smear themselves with cat’s mess”. This purposeful hideousness is also evident in his own house, which Anthony visits on 8 December 1926 – Mark lived in a dingy house off the Fulham road. Dark, brown brick, with terra-cotta trimmings; and within, patterned linoleum; bits of red, Axsminster carpet; wallpapers of ochre sprinkled with bunches of cornflowers of green, with crimson roses; fumed oak chairs and tables; rep curtains; bamboo stands supported with glazed blue pots. The hideousness, Anthony reflected, was so complete, so absolutely unrelieved, that it could only have been intentional. Mark must deliberately have chosen the ugliest surroundings he could find.102 His housekeeper, Mrs. Pendle, is worse. She wears a brown silk dress, with “an old diseased brown fur” round her neck. And she walks on tiptoe to avoid making a noise, all the time making the most jarring noises possible – “creaking of shoes, rustling of silk, glassy clinkings of bead necklaces, jingling of the silver objects suspended by little chains from the waist”.103 Her teeth are false and too white, and she acts like a playful, coquettish child, which Anthony finds “positively ghoulish”. And what has changed perceptibly from his days at Bulstrode, is his attitude to his “father and disgusting brothers – the whole vile brood of Staitheses”. Anthony is struck enough to notice this change – at Bulstrode, he remembers, it was always “My pater says…” or “My frater at Cambridge…”. Mark is intensely disgusted now with the Staitheses, who all think they are marvels – “Turds to the core!” His first protest against the family was by enlisting himself in the war as a private – which was looked upon by the family as unprestigious. After the war he was offered a job by his father – “a job with almost unlimited prospects for a young man with brains and energy – for a Staithes, in a word”. Mark, expectedly, refused it, because “it was so unfairly good! So ignobly good!” He acted by taking himself off to Mexico to look after a coffee finca without knowing anything about coffee. This stint in Mexico is usually considered to be the starting point in Staithes’s career and the cause of the abrupt change in his outlook – which interpretation is obviously wrong. Mark had changed earlier, for if he had not done so, he would not have rejected the wonderful job in the first place and disappeared to Mexico. The time gap before we meet him in 1926 suggests hidden possibilities and softens the improbability of the change somewhat, but it is nevertheless true that the Mark of 1926 is not the same Mark whom we see in 1903.

Eyeless in Gaza 125 Other contradictions in his character are exposed as the plot moves forward. Eyebrows are raised at Mary’s party on 8 December 1926 about Mark’s being a “Bolshevik”. Indeed, in Mexico he is fascinated by the Revolution and actively becomes involved in it. But very soon he becomes disillusioned, not by the Revolution, but by its projected effects – It’ll be all right at the beginning. Revolution’s delightful in the preliminary stages. So long as it’s a question of getting rid of people at the top. But afterwards, if the thing’s a success – what then? More wireless sets, more chocolates, more beauty parlours, more girls with contraceptives….The moment you give people a chance to be piggish, they take it – thankfully.104 Political freedom, therefore, is only opening up the chance to “be a pig” – or, like his father and brother, “a pig and a prig simultaneously”. He is at the moment, all for the Bolshevik revolution – “In Russia they haven’t yet had the chance to be pigs. Circumstances have forced them to be ascetics”. And when the country has succeeded politically, it will be no different – “Millions and millions of soft, piggish Babbits, ruled by a small minority of ambitious Staitheses”. The reason – “It’s orthodox Marxism, of course. Behaviour and modes of thought are the outcome of economic circumstances”.105 He therefore, is drawn towards socialism not for its goals and ends, but for its means. When the end has been achieved, Mark has nothing to do with it. Moreover, his own hideous “piggishness” contrasts conspicuously with the moral “piggishness” against which he is protesting. Ironically, he is all for moral cleanliness. The social ladders, Anthony suggests, “become broader as they rise”. And Mark is not impressed – “Well, perhaps it is a wider perch than the bank clerk’s. but not wide enough for me. And not high enough; above all, not clean enough”.106 Somehow, the planned ugliness of his surroundings are a reflection of the hideousness of organized living, and the beautiful music that he produces from his piano, an attempt to counter it. Mark’s Manichaeism also has the effect of making him intensely realistic, even shockingly so. Anthony reports that on reading Anna Karenina he began to list the omissions – Almost total neglect of all those small physiological events that decide whether day-to-day living shall have a pleasant or unpleasant tone. Excretion, for example, with its power to make or mar the day. Digestion. And for the heroines of the novel or drama, menstruation. Then the small illnesses….the chronic physical disabilities.107 Mark’s attraction towards revolution culminates in the trip to Mexico with Anthony in December 1933 (Chap XLI). The reasons for taking

126  Eyeless in Gaza this huge risk are characteristic of Mark, and quite contradictory to the fine ideals of courage and dedication which ordinarily encourage men into becoming revolutionaries. Don Jorge, the Mexican rebel opposition leader, is persecuted by a corrupt, unjust government, and wants Mark’s help in his struggle. Mark agrees at once, not because he has any deep faith in the Mexican cause, but because it is “as any Mexican politician’s cause”. “Revolution for revolution’s sake?” – Anthony asks. This is Mark’s reply – No, for mine. For the sake of every man who takes part in the thing. For every man can get as much fun out of it as I can.108 It is another of his hideous jokes – playing at revolution for fun. After 1926 Mark exhibits certain qualities that had not been evident before. The unscrupulous Mark, who had pounced at any odd chance to bait the weaklings at Bulstrode, has now become a man with certain human scruples. A telling instance is the love-letter which Anthony sends Helen after the dog incident in 1933. In the middle of one of her mother’s parties, Helen forces Mark to read the letter out loud, and Mark is conspicuously uncomfortable at doing so, protesting uneasily every now and then. Once he stops reading – “I have no right!” This Mark is quite unrecognisable to us. The Mark of Bulstrode, who did not consider the rights of anyone but himself, is now actually declining from commenting decisively on anyone being weak enough to write a love letter to a girl. Moreover, after the incident, the Mark of Bulstrode would promptly have dismissed it from his mind as a lot of sentimental nonsense. The present Mark takes the trouble to go to Anthony’s house to tell him in as innocuous a language as possible in the circumstances, about what had happened to the letter, and to keep him company in order to alleviate the hurt. Mark, after all, is not as hideous as appearances would suggest. Whatever Mark’s peculiar notions of life and human nature may be, there is no doubt at all about the sincerity of his convictions. Perhaps that is why an intellectual like Anthony does attach some sort of value to his opinion, even when he emotionally feels the world crashing round his ears – In a way, of course, I simply hate the sight of you….Nothing personal intended, mind you. I should hate the sight of anyone just as much. But in another way, I’m glad you’ve come….If anyone can make a sensible remark about it all… I think it’s you.109 The Mexican tour forms the pinnacle of both Mark’s and Anthony’s lives. To an extent this trip is autobiographical, for Huxley, too, around 1933–1935 was passing through a phase of extreme moral suffering. He, like Anthony Beavis, goes to Mexico, and returns like him, to a period of

Eyeless in Gaza 127 mental re-adjustment which will end up in the acceptance of pacifism as his political ideology. Many of the scenes described in the narrative have been witnessed first hand – but here the analogy ends, for the particular incidents of Eyeless in Gaza are totally different; and in the real trip there had been no Miller. Two aspects of Mark’s character are revealed from the Mexican trip – the total absence of any kind of cowardice (as contrasted with the moral and physical coward, Anthony) and his extreme Stoicism. The “perpetual grimace” on his face, which had been described way back in 1926, is not only the result of a deep-rooted disgust with the debasement of human nature but also emerges from a disgust with the physical body and a sense of its valuelessness. No man with even the slightest attachment to or pride in his body could have borne with so much equanimity the searing pain of the gangrened leg and that of the aftermath of the operation as he does. He insists on carrying on the endless journey by mule with a horribly swollen, pus-filled knee, racked with intense pain, but always showing “a profile marbly in its fixed pallor – the statue of a stoic, flayed, but still alive and silently supporting his agony”.110 He faints with the pain, but as long as he can bear it, he continues to ride on the mule, reading Troilus and Cressida. After his knee is amputated by Miller, his agony is more the result of having to depend on Anthony and Miller (whom he unaccountably detests for having saved him) than that of the raw stump which had been his leg. He is also racked by a deep regret that his friend Don Jorge had died in the belief that Mark had “taken flight at the last moment and let him down”. Mark’s stoicism is also partly the outcome of a sense of his own superiority as compared with the inferior creatures around him, including Anthony. He feels it to be beneath his dignity to show pain (a sign of weakness) to people below his level. Anthony had insisted on continuing the journey on mule-back to Don Jorge with an acute stomach-upset and a terrible feeling of sickness. Mark, with a festering leg giving him many times the pain that Anthony had experienced, insists on continuing the journey – “After all, you did it the day before yesterday!” The words implied a contemptuous disparagement. “If a poor creature like you can overcome pain, then surely I ….” That was what they meant to say. But the insult, Anthony realized, was unintended. It sprang from the depths of an arrogance that was almost child-like in its single-minded intensity.111 That is one of the reasons why he hates Miller so much. Miller is the only person, he realizes, is not at all inferior to him; rather, he may even be the opposite. His whole opinion of himself rests on the feeling that he is one man against a host of bugs – “Cockroaches, dung-beetles. Just a hundred big, staring bugs”.

128  Eyeless in Gaza All said and done, Mark’s attitude of negativism makes his whole view of life wrongly tilted and distorted. Notwithstanding very genuine qualities of character, Mark’s life leads him nowhere. He goes to Mexico on a harrowing mission because his friend there had asked for his help, and it gives him a feeling of well-being to help someone else to show his superiority. Also, the mission gives him “fun”, playing with his life. Anthony believes that they go to Mexico “to be shaken out of negativity”, not realizing that they are only intensifying it. Miller understands the truth – Do you suppose you’d be here if you had a healthy intestine?” [he asks Anthony]. “You know quite well you wouldn’t. Not on that kind of lunatic errand, at any rate. For, of course, you might be here as an anthropologist, say, or a teacher, a healer, whatever you like, so long as it meant understanding people and helping them.112 Quality and virtue for its own sake, not for the sake of humanity – that is Mark’s philosophy. Miller tries to explain – “It isn’t a question of being frightened, Mark Staithes. It’s a question of choosing something right instead of something wrong”. Mark answers – “I’m suspicious of right choices that happen to need less courage than the wrong ones”. Miller asks a pertinent question – “Is danger your measure of goodness? Hard to know in most cases. But at least one can be sure that it’s good to face danger courageously”.113 The amputation of Mark’s leg is only a physical rendering of the distortion of his mind. It is natural that the body that he so detested as “huddled on dirt” will become crippled to reflect his mind. His heroic qualities, crushed under the thumb of his negative outlook, only serve to make him cynical and misanthropical. In this way he may be compared to Chelifer (Those Barren Leaves) or Spandrell (Point Counter Point) – people whose philosophies have made them twisted and vindictive. Mark is as if acting a farce with teeming insects playing the other roles. Anthony lacks the courage and strength of mind that Mark shows, but he can yet be brought back to the positive pathway of philanthropy and love for fellow beings – because his mind is still open to positive influences. Mark’s great virtues stand neither him nor humanity in good stead, even in spite of Miller. *  *  * Mary Amberley serves as an effective contrast to Mark Staithes. The two are set on opposite poles of the world of Eyeless in Gaza – one a hedonist and the other a Manichaeist. One is a lover of beauty and the other of ugliness. One loves and indulges the body and the other detests and tortures it. Eyeless in Gaza is the first of Huxley’s novels which show the characters suffering the rightful consequences of their acts. Up to Brave New World the world is depicted objectively, sometimes even as

Eyeless in Gaza 129 unjust and relentless – as in the fate of little Phil in Point Counter Point. In Eyeless in Gaza the characters are responsible for their fates – at least in most cases, because in some instances like Helen’s, the suffering far outweighs the person’s own responsibility. The world is not very clean or just, but it has a habit of bringing the recalcitrants to book in a very painful manner. Both Mark Staithes and Mary Amberley have to suffer, not only for their actions but also for their beliefs. Mark’s hatred of his physical body ends up in distorting it, and Mary’s love for the same ends up in a distorted mind. Mary Amberley is a foil for Mark. She is also a parallel to Beppo Bowles. Both are hedonists in their own way, both spend their time in running after pleasure – she is in the arms of every young man she happens to fancy; he in the homosexual ambience of the lavatory or surreptitious corners. Both swear in the name of beauty, and end up in the dirtiest and ugliest conditions and surroundings. Beppo’s “bulging waistcoat and tight wide seat of his check trousers and his bald crown and Florentine page curls” contrast painfully with his romantic dreams and lust for the beautiful – “Why should one be ashamed of living for beauty?” Mary herself is beautiful, and fills her life with whatever she thinks is beautiful – comfort, fine art (the Pacine on the wall of her bedroom), gay parties, and intellectual conversation – “She was made physically ill by ugliness”. Her exterior beauty contrasts heavily with her selfishness, malicious mind, which seeks pleasure at any cost, even at the cost of more innocent people like Brian and Joan. Beppo’s and Mary’s fates therefore, are also strikingly similar – hers in a morphia syringe, and his in romantic dreams with young men who actually come to him through the lure of money. They both look similar in middle age – flabby, consciously trying to hide their sagging flesh, pathetically making gestures to draw sexual attention to their drooping bodies, and then drowning in a sea of misery in the face of failure to do so. She ends up in blaming Gerry Watchett for her condition; he in blaming all the young men who cannot understand love and romance, only raw cash. The single main cause for Mary’s relentless pursuit of pleasure is the cause that has moved all of Huxley’s sirens from Anna in Crome Yellow to Virginia in Time Must Have a Stop – her inordinate fear of boredom and loneliness – There were evenings when the woman simply wouldn’t allow you to say goodbye, but clung to you desperately, as though she were drowning….She seemed to regard each successive departure of a guest as the death of a fragment of her own being.114 Of course, the fear increases as she grows older, when she has to struggle to attract attention. As long as she was young, men flocked to her, vying for her pleasure. So dependent is she on the admiration of young men,

130  Eyeless in Gaza that the very threat of losing their attention sends her into an agony of loneliness. She had never depended on the company of her daughters, but after they had flown the nest this feeling intensifies. Added to this is the betrayal of “that blackguard”, Gerry Watchett, whom she had depended on for years, and who had later intentionally milked her resources and shifted himself off to Canada to leave her to bankruptcy, drugs, and a slatternly existence. Also to be seen here is Huxley’s laconic commentary on the upper-class “cultured” lady, who, used so far to pretty pictures, designer furniture, large rooms, good books, and a steady income, cannot conceive herself, even when bankrupt, living in a smaller house or doing any work in order to make ends meet, other than “writing a critical study of the modern French novel”. Mary Amberley could easily have been regarded as another Lucy Tantamount in all aspects of her character, but for one exception. Both are hedonists to the core, and both chase physical pleasure in order to avoid boredom. Both are entirely devoid of moral principles and will go to any lengths to satisfy their thirst for pleasure. But Lucy is never shown to consciously become the cause of someone else’s downfall. She never goads on an unwilling lover and accepts Walter only when he practically rapes her. Mary Amberley, on the other hand, is the indirect cause of Brian’s death. And to satisfy a mere whim, to get some spice out of life, and to find an excuse to shake off Anthony, of whom she had become heartily tired, she pushes Anthony on to Joan, Brian’s sweetheart, a woman physically starved by Brian’s moralistic scruples, and yearning to be kissed – The world was a place where all amusing and exciting things seemed, all of a sudden, to have stopped happening. There was nothing for it but to make them happen. That was why she went on at Anthony about what she called “Joan’s treatment”, went on and on with a persistence quite out of proportion with any interest she felt in Joan, or in Brian Foxe, or even in Anthony – went on simply in the hope of creating a little fun out of the boring nothingness of the time.115 Anthony has his compunctions – plenty of them, but Mary either does not know of his better feelings or refuses to believe in them – There was also compunction, also affection and loyalty. But of these it would be all but impossible to talk to Mary.116 Seduction is not only a hobby with her, it is an art to be proud of; and she has absolute contempt for those who fail to cultivate that art – When you were Anthony’s age, did you wait for the woman to seduce you?117

Eyeless in Gaza 131 And, indeed, anything out of ordinary good social behaviour is attractive to her because it delivers her from boredom – Few things are more exciting than deliberate bad taste, more amusing than the spectacle of someone else’s embarrassment.118 Mark Staithes detested the body and ended up deformed. Mary Amberley loves hers, but she has not bargained for old age, and she ends up even more deformed than Mark. Of course, her deformity is not the actual physical deformity which Mark experiences; it is the deformity which strikes a person as compared with the beautiful curves of yore, and which manifests itself in hollow cheeks, discoloured pouches of skin beneath the eyes, greasy and uncombed hair, and sagging breasts. Several theorists like Rosmarie Garland-Thomson in Extraordinary Bodies: Figuring Physical Disability in American Culture and Literature (New York: Columbia University Press, 1997) have pointed to the norms surrounding bodily shape and form in relation to which non normative bodies are seen as freaks and monsters. That is the case with Mary Amberley. Her young body had appropriated the norm set for female bodies; her body in old age is non-normative, which leads her to regard it as monstrous, and lose all interest in it. Consequently, she moves closer to being an animal, to which awareness of the body is absolutely zero. Added to this is the addiction to morphia, which has so transformed her, that she seems quite a different person altogether. The selfish, pleasure-loving mind has finally betrayed her, and she has degenerated into a mindless animal. The woman formerly so obsessed with beauty, now cares no more, can no longer be bothered – “an idiot’s indifference’. Apart from the dirtiness of her person – orange hair, smear of red paint on her lips, greasy hair et al – her pillows are smudged with rouge and egg-yolk, her sheet is stained with coffee, a cigarette-end has burned a hole in her eiderdown, and a gravy-greased knife has accidentally fallen on her counterpane, and been left there. Five years later, the degeneration is complete. Helen comes home after the dog incident, mentally broken, only to find that her mother has lost the key to her room and has broken a bottom panel of the door. She is crawling in and out of the broken hole – she has become an animal on all fours. Huxley terms it “the kennel door”, with her peering out of it like a dog. For three weeks, therefore, the maid, who is much too fat, has been unable to clean her room – “a bit untidy”, according to Mary – and the remains of past lunches are still present on the floor. The woman who could not bear dirty smells – the “stink” of people in church, for instance, now lives in a house which smells of dirt and stale food. Mary Amberley’s discourse is in keeping with her role as the siren, the physical vampire, as contrasted with Mrs. Foxe, the spiritual one. As such, Mrs. Foxe speaks in terms of the spirit, and of love, affection,

132  Eyeless in Gaza values, and the human duty towards fellow creatures. Mary disparages love, especially that of a mother, talks with aplomb of forbidden subjects like sex and physical pleasures, and of homosexuality and impotence with her guests, who are, without exception, all men. As Jean Grimshaw points out in Feminist Philosophers (Brighton: Wheatsheaf. 1986), for women childbearing has been seen both as the source of greatest joy and as the root of their worst suffering. Mrs. Foxe illustrates the former, Mary Amberley, the latter. Her manner is light, superficial, witty, and consciously amusing. Her tendency of consciously being funny is a way of asserting her supremacy, and it is the most evident on the subject of morality. Her favourite phrase in this respect is “uterine reactions”, which she uses generously in connection with Mrs. Foxe’s attachment to her son; and Joan’s frustrated affections are mocked at by the comment, “like early Christians”. Innocence is a matter of joke – “The nicest thing about you”, she tells Anthony, “is your innocence”. And Anthony is wounded to the heart, as he is meant to be – “So deliciously youthful, so touching”. The words which would be praise to another, are made to sound contemptuous and amusing. The joke is used against her own children as well. Joyce, who according to her, “believes in the Ten Commandments”, is treated with tolerant humour, and Helen’s excesses are joked after, but in a manner which hints at her being rather proud of them. The kidney which Helen steals from the shops is displayed at a party, and instead of being censured, Helen is praised – “I shall have the object embalmed”, her mother exclaims, “….and put under one of those glass domes….one finds in lodging houses. With birds under them”.119 She pronounces the word as “bo-ods”. The habit of elongating words for humorous emphasis is a typical aspect of her conversation, and Helen herself inherits it to the hilt, as when she mocks Anthony’s love-letter, laughing at the word “lo-ove”. It is therefore characteristic of Mary Amberley that she will joke about Church too – “….and I shall never forget the one and only time I took her to Church” – and about its “stink”, which neither she nor her daughter can stand. The difference between Mary and the other characters of the novel is that she constantly attracts attention by being witty and funny at the expense of other people, while many of the others are quite unwittingly amusing. Miller is very serious when he speaks of Anthony’s constipation almost immediately after meeting him for the first time in the wild expanses of Mexico, but the very situation makes it humorous. Nor is Mr. Beavis aware of the ridiculous effect of his philology, even though he is dead serious about it. We rather laugh at the other characters, not with them. Mary Amberley, Mark Staithes, and Helen are the only ones whom we do not laugh at. The humour directed at Miller is situational – we do not laugh at the ideas themselves; only at the circumstances in which they are expounded. All the other characters always manage to produce an effect opposite to what they aim at, and this results in their

Eyeless in Gaza 133 being derided. Mark, Mary, and Helen are the only ones without any pretensions at all, and that is why they are quite aware of any effect they are producing. When Mary’s humour disappears, she becomes a sorry and pathetic figure, not amusing at all, especially after the tragic incident of Brian’s death with which she is connected. *  *  * All of Mary’s wit, humour, and vivacity have been inherited by her younger daughter, Helen, the most remarkable character of this novel. But she has a sensitivity, an emotional core, which her mother lacks. No deep feelings seem to touch Mary; Helen thrives on such feelings. As such, she is identified as a viscerotonic by Peter Bowering120, her predominant tendencies being emotional. John Woodcock121 regards her as the true innocent, as contrasted with the false innocent, Hugh Ledwidge. Being truly innocent, she is drawn along by every wind of emotion that grips her, and her innocence leads her to believe in the innocence of Hugh at the outset. She is, moreover, one of the few rounded, unpredictable characters in the whole of the Huxleyan canon, which gives her added interest. She is built throughout on one plane – that of emotion, just as Anthony Beavis is built on the plane of the intellect. She lives and acts on that level. People therefore write her off as another of Huxley’s teeming two-dimensional characters, albeit portrayed in a more sympathetic manner – which opinion does require some correction. This, for instance, is what Kishore Gandhi has to say of Helen – Many of Huxley’s characters like Denis and Scogan in Crome Yellow, Gumbril Jr. and Myra Viveash in Antic Hay, Mrs. Aldwinkle in Those Barren Leaves, and Mary and Helen Amberley in Eyeless in Gaza has cast all moorings of ethics and religion, they are all adrift in the dreary sea of sensation and sensuality. These shipwrecked victims are contented in “eddies of eroticism”. They seek unpleasant sensation and show a strong desire for an escape from responsibility, moral obligations of society, family and marriage, and ordinary morality. They exhibit heartlessness, delight in sexual promiscuity, and the pursuit of ephemeral pleasure.122 Similarly, we have Christopher’s opinion – The change in Helen is swift but unstable because it arises from attachment to persons and things; the change in Anthony, though miserably slow, preludes a lasting betterment. Helen’s love for Ekki Geisebrecht, which blossoms so swiftly in the early autumn, is the counterpart of Anthony’s meeting Dr. Miller in the following February; but Ekki’s way is wrong and his execution fills

134  Eyeless in Gaza Helen with hatred for herself and all mankind at about the same time that Anthony is discovering through Miller a superior kind of love. The contrast is between two varieties of love and two varieties of loss of self. Helen’s variety entails exclusiveness and narrowing; joy is experienced through the loss of contradictory impulses. Anthony’s variety – or Miller’s – entails inclusiveness and broadening out…123 Lawrence Brander’s evaluation is more acceptable because it tries to account for the evolution of Helen as a character – Helen, by contrast [with her mother], burgeons with the passage of time. She is impelled towards good as inevitably as her mother is impelled towards squalor and dirt; but she does not feel so. “I am all dirt”, she cries out to Anthony, and her life is a contrasting sequence of natural graceful enjoyment and service to her consorts; and a vivid consciousness of inadequacy and sin.124 Of the characters in Eyeless in Gaza, Helen is the one who is the closest to nature – where “nature” is used in the sense of being natural, obeying the instincts and passions, and behaving as her basic nature induces her to behave. That is why, when she analyses a person, she automatically expresses her feelings, or lack of them first. She tells Anthony – You are sweet, you are touching. God knows why. Because you oughtn’t to be. It’s all a swindle really. A trick for getting people to like you on false pretences.125 She is drawn to Gerry because he makes her feel; she is drawn to Hugh because he shows some feeling for her – “After all, it was comforting to know that there was somebody who cared”.126 Music and dance make her quite heady and take her to a heaven which she obtains by shutting out the real world – Dancing, she lost her life in order to save it; lost her identity and became something greater than herself; lost perplexities and self-­ hatreds in a bright, harmonious certitude; lost her bad character, and was made perfect; lost the regretted past, the apprehended future, and gained a timeless present of consummate happiness.127 After she realizes the tragedy of her fate – “to lose her heart only to men like Gerry, to be loved only by men like Hugh, and Bob and Cecil” – she finally finds the right man for her – a young German Communist refugee, Ekki Geisebrecht. And love brings about a total change in her appearance –

Eyeless in Gaza 135 That face, which he had last seen alternately stony and bright with mockery, then in the rapt agony of pleasure, then dabbled with blood, and pitiably disintegrated by a grief extreme beyond expression, finally hard as it had been at first, harder, more rigidly a stone – that face was now beautifully alive, and tender, illuminated from within by a kind of secure joy.128 And without that love she changes internally, becomes vindictive, bitter, revengeful – I was good when he was with me. Now I’m bad.129 And again – “I was somebody else when I was with him. Or perhaps I was myself – for the first time”.130 Not that Helen is unintelligent, nor does she lack a wish to sharpen her intellect. But whenever she pursues intellectual pleasures, she does it for an emotional reason, and therefore, soon gets tired of it. As a teenager she approaches Hugh Ledwidge to help her become an intellectual. “What’s wrong with me”, she tells him, “is that I’m so hopelessly frivolous”. And to save her from being frivolous, he gives her a long list of very serious books to read, beginning from Burnet’s Early Greek Philosophers, through the Nicomachean Ethics and Ingel’s Plotinus, to Montaigne’s Essays, and the Pensees of Pascal. She is thrilled because she has at last found a way to being sagacious – ….like an elephant, like an old sheep-dog, like Hume, if you preferred it, but at the same time, of course, herself. Sagacious, but young; sagacious, but lively and attractive; sagacious, but impetuous….131 The language itself is a pointer to the idealism, the sheer emotionalism of Helen, where Hume and sheep-dogs can be coupled together, and binary opposites like sagacious, and lively and impetuous may exist side by side. The very idea of such books make her dream, not of reading them, which by nature she is incapable of, but of wearing spectacles and piling up the books high on her writing table, along with writing materials and probably a card index, too. She lives in a dream world of her own, seeing herself in a far nobler and greater role that life has inflicted upon her. That is why she has a genuine desire to be good – I wasn’t born hopeless – I was made it, because of the kind of life I’ve lived. Now I want to be something else….But I refuse to be ashamed of goodness any longer. I absolutely refuse.132

136  Eyeless in Gaza Of course, to be ashamed of goodness is what her mother has always taught her. The problem crops up because she initially chooses Hugh to be good with – another example of her lack of intellectual and logical insight into reality, and the fact that her intellect is at the mercy of her feelings – “I want to be a good wife, Hugh”. With her mother’s laughter loud in her imagination, it had been difficult to pronounce those words. But she had meant them. She did want to be a good wife. Darning socks, making hot milk for him before he went to bed, reading up his subject, being serieuse; in a word, for the first time and profoundly. But Hugh didn’t want her to be a good wife, didn’t want her, so far as she could see, to be anything.133 The same may be said of her Communism – an intellectual philosophy in an emotional mind. She is drawn towards Communism because her heart is with Ekki, and Ekki is a Communist. She remains a Communist even after his death, not because she actually believes in Marxist theory, but because she feels that she has to live up to his memory. And that is why her ideology comes down to one point – liquidation and annihilation – Such a passion for ‘liquidating’ the people who do not agree with them! And such a sincere conviction that liquidation is necessary!134 This, perhaps, is an indirect way of expressing her hatred for the Nazis, because they are the cause of Ekki’s death; and for the world, which now seems to be a place of bitter hatred because her love has died. Helen’s emotional intensity is the main cause of her tremendous obstinacy and impetuosity. If she feels like doing something, she will do it, be it the most bizarre, the most ridiculous thing to do. She will steal from every shop she goes to, merely because her sister, Joyce, has challenged her to do so; and she steals even against her ingrained inhibitions against dirt and slime in the meat shop. Most of the time, however, her indiscretions are the result of hurt and unfulfillment – an indirect way of expressing her protest against circumstances. A typical example is the reading aloud of Anthony’s love letter in public at a party at Hugh’s flat and openly laughing at Anthony’s sentiments. Her recklessness is embarrassing to those more circumspect and “the strange wild smile on her face, the brightness in her eyes” are pointers to her mood that night – the night the dog came down like a thunderbolt on Anthony and herself during their love making on the terrace. In a better mood, this recklessness had seemed to Hugh to make her “a celestial enfant terrible”; now it seems to him to be “almost fiendish”. Her derisive comments on the letter manages to discomfort even hardened cynics like Mark Staithes

Eyeless in Gaza 137 who goes to the extent of admonishing her in public. Even her manic laughter seems like a distorted expression of the tears welling up inside her, and it leads her on to mock at and hurt the two men closest to her at that moment – Hugh and Anthony. Another instance of such distorted expressions of suffering occurs after Ekki’s death, when she is seeing Anthony again sometimes, and not hiding her obvious contempt of him and his new pacifist way of life. While walking down the streets with him one night, she suddenly brightens “to a mood of malevolent high spirits”. She begins commenting loudly on passers-by – “as though we were at the zoo”135, according to Anthony. It is as if she enjoys embarrassing people when she is sad or hurt. Helen may be reckless, outspoken, over-emotional, but she is quite incapable of anything dirty or mean or wicked. A proud girl who realizes her superiority over others in terms of mental power and capacity to feel, her behaviour to most people is like a queen to slave – feudal and haughty. Even while she is stealing, she gives her orders to shop-assistants, haughtily, and without smiling, as though it was her birthright to behave in such a manner. Also, in accordance with her strongly emotional make-up, she intensely loves anything clean and beautiful and has the most violent detestation of “all ugliness and deformity and uncleanliness”. One reason for behaving uncivilly to the shop girl is this – Civil indeed! To this horrible little creature who squinted and didn’t wash enough under the arms?136 The same loathing overcomes her when she sees Holtzmann – the man who is introduced as Ekki’s friend, but who is ultimately responsible for Ekki’s abduction and death. She has an instant dislike of Holtzmann because he giggles, gesticulates, makes grimaces, sweats on the palms, and has pig’s eyes and rolls of fat. Her instincts prove right this time, for though she feels ashamed of detesting a man whom she should be respecting, he does prove finally to be detestable in reality, being the instrument of Ekki’s death, and therefore a traitor. Her loathing of dirtiness and deformity also extend to a mortal horror of blood, which is not only evident in her unwillingness to touch the raw kidney in the butcher’s shop while stealing it, but reaches almost symbolic proportions in her reaction to the blood spattered all over her when the dog falls from the skies. This horrible incident jolts her to the realization of the futility of her situation, where she is the sole giver, Anthony, the sole taker. Reality always has the power of making her immensely bitter, and that what she becomes within a few minutes. Another extension of the hatred of deformity, disease and filth, is her detestation of pain – and this detestation is like a loud protest against “all the Cavells and Nightingales”, who have thrived on alleviating

138  Eyeless in Gaza pain – a sentiment which echoes Rampion in Point Counter Point. “How I hate pain!” she cries out. Yet she herself has to bear excruciating pain when her child by Gerry is aborted; and all the time she suffers, she dreams of the most revolting things in her delirium – of “a man with some awful kind of skin-disease on his face”, of Gerry making love to her in front of hordes of people; and worst of all, of herself in the most revolting condition possible to her mind – The possibility of Helen with enormous breasts, of Helen with thick rolls of fat round her hips, of Helen with creases in her thighs, of Helen with rows and rows of children – howling all the time; and that disgusting smell of curdled milk; and their diapers.137 She cannot accept the genuine concern of Mme. Bonifay, because “the comfort, as usual, smelt of onions”. Helen is a character who is psychologically credible (unlike Mark Staithes or Mrs. Foxe) mainly because her responses make her the person she is. She can emotionally range from one extreme to the other, but being passionate and reckless, such extremes seem perfectly plausible where she is concerned because none of the changes in her character occurs without some cause. Brian too suffers, but then he is in a great part responsible for his sufferings. Helen is not perfect; hardly so; but her suffering is mostly generated from sullied innocence, and of being inadvertently being taken advantage of. She suffers through her mother, through Gerry Watchett, through Hugh, through Anthony, and indirectly through the Nazis – and in none of these cases is she herself the cause, except for the fact that she either is unable to recognize evil when she sees it, as in Gerry or Holtzmann, or decides to put up with what she can get, as in her mother, Anthony, or Hugh. She is the only character in the novel for whom the reader sympathizes thoroughly, with the least criticism. Helen’s role is also thematically and dramatically significant. Her journey of futility in the intellectual world with Hugh’s help has established her short comings in that direction. Thereafter, we either see her leading a life of feeling (Gerry) or trying to make someone else feel (Anthony) – which is another journey in futility because neither is capable of any kind of emotional depth. Helen reaches the watershed of her life in her relationship with Ekki, whose intellectual ideology she accepts with unquestioning emotional intensity, simply because she loves him. This blind attachment to Communism is bound to doom from the very onset, because she accepts it without understanding it. After Ekki’s death, we find Anthony already converted to pacifism by Miller, and seriously trying to parallel the latter’s lifestyle with his ideals – which is the most difficult task he has yet set for himself. He has also realized his genuine love for Helen, and is now doing his best to draw her away from violence

Eyeless in Gaza 139 towards a pacifist doctrine. The “organized hatred” of Communism is the binary opposite of the pacifist doctrine of peace, and this process of convincing someone belonging to the former ideology to abandon it for the latter, is one of the basic themes of Eyeless in Gaza. The blindness of Anthony (exemplified in the title) is slowly converted to spiritual light, and this light is slowly being transferred to another eyeless person – Helen. Helen knows the coward that Anthony is; knows the difficulty of balancing thought and action; and therefore finds no difficulty in scoffing at his new-found philosophy, and at Miller’s insistence on speaking to the public in the face of physical assaults, abuses and jeers without resisting such attacks – “It’s only a trick”, she says. “Anyone can learn it”. Anthony asks – “Wouldn’t it be a good thing if we all tried?” “No, I think it is stupid”, she replies, “because it is unnatural”138. That is why she refuses to meet Miller, yet continues to mix with Anthony – Which showed how little stock she set on my powers to shake her convictions!… But Miller’s action had got between the joints of her armour. He acted his doctrine, didn’t rest content with talking it. Her confidence that I couldn’t get between the joints as he had done, was extremely insulting. The more so as I knew that it was justified.139 Towards the end, we hear that Helen has finally agreed to go to one of Anthony meetings – with a cynical frame of mind, of course; but the very fact that she has agreed shows that she is bending. We never see her totally converted; she is the process of doing so – and this process probably is as important as the end result – I [Anthony] said our ends were the same, the means adopted, different. For her, end justified means; for me, means the end. Perhaps, I said, one day she would see the importance of the means.140 She becomes, therefore, an indispensable part of the never-ending process of social transformation from violence to peace. She becomes the reason behind Anthony’s zest in his new work, for his own transformation from emotional cowardice to emotional courage. That is why, too, Helen becomes one of the few Huxleyan characters who have the elements of change in her, elements which the reader cannot have anticipated – in other words, the elements of rotundity. *  *  * The characters of Eyeless in Gaza have shifted qualitatively from the earlier novels in the fact that they correspond not to moral, but political and social types. That is why the world view presented is not merely that of the depressive, hopeless, amoral life of the Twenties and Thirties;

140  Eyeless in Gaza it also opens a vision of a better world, which can be attained by real human qualities, not by their abandonment. The aim, therefore, is more positive than any of the novels gone before.

Notes 1 Julian Symons, The Thirties – A Dream Resolved (London, Faber & Faber, 1975), pp. 46–47. 2 Peter Bowering, Aldous Huxley – A Study of the Major Novels (University of London, Athlone Press, 1968), p. 117. 3 A.E. Dyson, Aldous Huxley and the Two Nothings (The Critical Quarterly, Winter, 1961), p. 24. 4 Jeremy Meckier, Aldous Huxley – Satire and Structure (London, Chatto & Windus, 1969), p. 99. 5 Aldous Huxley, Eyeless in Gaza (London, Flamingo Modern Classics, 1994), p. 97. 6 Ibid, p. 14. 7 Ibid, p. 13. 8 Ibid, p. 99. 9 Ibid, p. 139. 10 Ibid, p. 286. 11 Ibid, p. 329. 12 Ibid, p. 18. 13 Ibid, p. 206. 14 Ibid, p. 324. 15 Ibid, p. 318. 16 Ibid, p. 319. 17 Ibid, p. 13. 18 Ibid, p. 33. 19 Ibid, p. 150. 20 Ibid, p. 213. 21 Facts compiled, among others, mostly from John Woodcock’s Dawn and the Darkest Hour – A Study of Aldous Huxley (London, Faber & Faber, 1972), Chap VIII. 22 Huxley, Eyeless in Gaza, pp. 329–330. 23 Ibid, p. 363. 24 Ibid, p. 364. 25 Ibid, p. 365. 26 Ibid, p. 367. 27 Ibid, p. 274. 28 Ibid, p. 214. 29 Ibid, p. 373. 30 Ibid, p. 75. 31 Ibid, p. 160. 32 Ibid, p. 93. 33 Ibid, p. 238. 34 Ibid, p. 288. 35 Ibid, p. 8. 36 Ibid, p. 52. 37 Ibid, p. 83. 38 Ibid, p. 83. 39 Ibid, p. 85. 40 Ibid, p. 334.

Eyeless in Gaza 141 41 Aldous Huxley, Point Counter Point (London, Flamingo Modern Classics, 1994), p. 411. 42 Huxley, Eyeless in Gaza, p. 5. 43 Ibid, p. 9. 44 Ibid, p. 79. 45 Ibid, p. 180. 46 Ibid, p. 219. 47 Ibid, p. 18. 48 Ibid, p. 36. 49 Ibid, p. 47. 50 Ibid, p. 99. 51 Ibid, p. 108. 52 Ibid, p. 200. 53 Ibid, p. 210. 54 Ibid, pp. 308–309. 55 Ibid, p. 52. 56 Ibid, p. 250. 57 Ibid, pp. 46–47. 58 Ibid, p. 88. 59 Ibid, p. 81. 60 Ibid, p. 78. 61 Ibid, p. 243. 62 Ibid, p. 172. 63 Ibid, p. 359. 64 Ibid, p. 360. 65 Ibid, p. 360. 66 Extract from a letter from Huxley to his cousin, Gervas Huxley, written in August, 1914. 67 Eyeless in Gaza, p. 63. 68 Ibid, pp. 64–65. 69 Ibid, p. 72. 70 Ibid, p. 47. 7 Ibid, p. 73. 72 Ibid, p. 69. 73 Ibid, p. 66. 74 Ibid, p. 62. 75 Ibid, p. 64. 76 Ibid, p. 63. 77 Ibid, p. 140. 78 Ibid, p. 145. 79 Aldous Huxley, Brave New World, (London, Chatto & Windus, 1952), p. 29. 80 Huxley, Eyeless in Gaza, p, 162. 81 Ibid, p. 173. 82 Ibid, pp. 244–245. 83 Ibid, p. 386. 84 Ibid, p. 387. 85 Ibid, p. 17. 86 Ibid, p. 48. 87 Ibid, pp. 23, 26. 88 Ibid p. 63. 89 Ibid, p. 229. 90 Aldous Huxley, Ends and Means (London, Chatto & Windus, 1957), p.157.

142  Eyeless in Gaza

91 Ibid, p. 62. 92 Ibid, p. 267. 93 Ibid, pp. 229–230. 94 Aldous Huxley, Ends and Means (London, Chatto & Windus, 1957), essay entitled Inequality. 95 Ibid, p. 166. 96 Peter Bowering, Aldous Huxley – A Study of the Major Novels, p. 128. 97 Huxley, Eyeless in Gaza, p. 51. 98 Ibid, p. 50. 99 Ibid, p. 132. 100 Ibid, p. 203. 101 Ibid, p. 152. 102 Ibid, p. 202. 103 Ibid, p. 206. 104 Ibid, pp. 205–206. 105 Ibid, pp. 205–206. 106 Ibid, p. 204. 107 Ibid, p. 343. 108 Ibid, p. 271. 109 Ibid, p. 236. 110 Ibid, p. 350. 111 Ibid, p. 352. 112 Ibid, p. 368. 113 Ibid, p. 378. 114 Ibid, p. 174. 115 Ibid, p. 261. 116 Ibid, p. 262. 117 Ibid, p. 264. 118 Ibid, p. 264. 119 Ibid, p. 114. 120 Peter Bowering, Aldous Huxley – A Study of the Major Novels, p. 128. 121 John Woodcock, Dawn and the Darkest Hour, Chapter VIII, Part 3. 122 Kishore Gandhi, The Search for Perennial Religion (London, Arnold-Heinemann, 1980), p. 46. 123 Christopher S. Ferns, Aldous Huxley – Novelist (London, Athlone Press, 1980), p. 128. 124 Lawrence Brander, Aldous Huxley – A Critical Study (London, Rupert Hart-Davis, 1970), p. 76. 125 Huxley, Eyeless in Gaza, p. 4. 126 Ibid, p. 320. 127 Ibid, p. 159. 128 Ibid, p. 308. 129 Ibid, p. 313. 130 Ibid, p. 314. 131 Ibid, p. 122. 132 Ibid, p. 341. 133 Ibid, pp. 257–258. 134 Ibid, p. 295. 135 Ibid, p. 212. 136 Ibid, p. 29. 137 Ibid, p. 318. 138 Ibid, p. 273. 139 Ibid, p. 274. 140 Ibid, p. 212.

4

The Futuristic Novels “Brave New World”, “Ape and Essence”, “Island”

The “Futuristic Novels” refer to those novels of Huxley, which in one way or the other project his idea of the future – that is, a world of speculation based on the author’s analysis of the present. We have three such novels – two of them dystopic, and the last, an idealistic utopia. Brave New World and Ape and Essence are satirical and portentous, while Island envisages the heights to which man’s qualities can take him if he is able to overcome his drawbacks. All these novels differ from the rest of the fictional works in that, instead of setting up argumentative types reflecting a picture of a certain section of life in the 1920s and 1930s, they set up an imaginative reconstruction of a future world, which is in no case arbitrary, but based on Huxley’s views of the developments in science and society in the first half of the twentieth century. The fact that they are all firmly embedded in reality, even though they carry us into futuristic fantasies, is reiterated by the presence of a visitor to each of these worlds from present-day life, who is in each of the novels, the protagonist. This intruder is chiefly responsible for disturbing the ostensible placidity of the futuristic world and establishes a contrast which works from within to lay the seeds of the destruction of the society which is represented. The destruction of the negative civilization of the first two novels may be a step in the right direction, but when it happens to Pala in Island, it definitely gives food for thought. Taken together, we get the impression that our civilization, being imperfect, has the ability to improve what is stiff, unreal, or positively wicked, and at the same time the ability to destroy what is great, good, and beautiful, drawing everything into the great plain of mediocrity. The futuristic novels of Huxley have a long list of antecedents, beginning with Plato with The Republic down to Wells’s Men Like Gods and A Modern Utopia. Several features of Huxley’s novels may even reiterate what the early Utopians may have imagined. Poets like Helmholtz in Brave New World have as little a place as poets did in Plato’s Republic, and the Savage may claim to be one of the finest representations of Rousseau’s Noble Savage as any before him. Marinetti’s World State in Italy also insisted on destroying everything old – including DOI: 10.4324/9781003276388-4

144  The Futuristic Novels museums – just as the World State in Brave New World attempted. But Huxley’s concepts also differ from his contemporaries. He cannot make himself believe that Wells’s socialism, where all men live equally, and where “every individual is capable of playing the superior part, who will consent”1 — is at all feasible – A society of Alphas couldn’t fail to be unstable and miserable. Imagine a factory staffed by Alphas – that is to say by separate and unrelated individuals of good heredity and conditioned so as to be capable (within limits) of making a free choice and assuming responsibilities. Imagine it! …Well, you can call it an experiment in rebottling if you like. It began in A.F. 473. The controllers had the island of Cyprus cleared of all its existing inhabitants and re-colonized with a specially prepared batch of twenty-two thousand Alphas. All agricultural and industrial equipment was handed over to them and they were left to manage their own affairs. … within six years they were having a first-class civil war2 This kind of social disparity according to mental capacity, and the kind of society which he satirizes in Brave New World, was envisaged by him much earlier, in his first novel itself – Crome Yellow. Mr. Scogan dreams aloud to Denis – In the Rational state, human beings will be separated out into distinct species, not according to the colour of their eyes or the shape of their skulls, but according to the qualities of their mind and temperament. Examining psychologists, trained to what would now seem an almost superhuman clairvoyance, will test each child that is born and assign it to its proper species. Duly labelled and docketed, the child will be given the education suitable to members its species, and will be set, in adult life, to perform those functions which human beings of his variety are capable of performing.3 The fact that such pictures of a Rational State, which recur so often through Huxley’s novels, are actually ironical, is impressed to us through his essays. A novel is a more objective form of literary expression than an essay, and the latter may well be regarded as more expressive of the writer’s own feelings than the former, which, though characteristically monologic, nevertheless attempts to juxtapose various conflicting opinions. The following excerpt from the essay titled The Planned Society serves as an indirect comment on the planned societies envisaged in the novels, culminating in Brave New World – Some kind of deliberate planning is necessary. But which kind and how much? We cannot answer these questions, cannot pass

The Futuristic Novels 145 judgement on any given scheme, except by constantly referring back to our ideal postulates. In considering any plan we must ask whether it will help to transform the society to which it is applied into a just, peaceable, morally, and intellectually progressive community of non-attached men and women. If so, we can say that the plan is a good one. If not, we must pronounce it to be bad.4 If we analyse Huxley’s opinion of ideal states, we find two characteristics common to all of them – non-attachment, and the importance given to means over and above the ends. In Huxley’s world view, the primary position of non-attachment cannot be over-emphasized. All the guru-figures in his novels (with the exception of Rampion) – Scogan, Propter, Miller, and Bruno Rontini – are eminently non-attached, with not even the emotional involvement of a family. In the essay, Goals, Roads, and Contemporary Starting-point, he defines and emphasizes non-­attachment thus – It is difficult to find a single word that will adequately describe the ideal man of the free philosophers, the mystics, the founders of religions. ‘Non-attached’ is perhaps the best. The ideal man is the non-attached man. Non-attached to his bodily sensations and lusts. Non-attached to his craving for power and possessions. Nonattached to the objects of these various desires. Non-attached to his anger and hatred; non-attached to his exclusive loves. Non-attached to wealth, fame, social position. Non-attached even to science, art, speculation, philanthropy. Yes, non-attached even to these.5 In the same essay he reiterates, too, the importance he attaches to means over ends – Good ends … can be achieved only by the employment of appropriate means. The end cannot justify the means, for the simple and obvious reason that the means employed determine the nature of the ends produced.6 When we come to Brave New World, the irony in the use of these opinions strikes us at once. Once of the basic tenets of the New Society is non-attachment, being effected by the absence of family or personal emotions in the midst of decanted humanity. Lenina is pulled up by her friend Fanny for seeing Henry Foster for four months running – “It’s such horribly bad form to go on and on like this with one man. At forty, or thirty-five, it wouldn’t be so bad…And you know how the D.H.C. objects to anything intense or long-drawn”7 The Savage is astonished when he is told that Shakespeare is banned. Mustapha Mond explains –

146  The Futuristic Novels Because our world is not the same as Othello’s world. You can’t make flivvers without steel – and you can’t make tragedies without social instability. The world’s stable now…And if anything should go wrong, there’s soma8 But whereas Miller’s or Propter’s non-attachment is a means to a better service of humanity, in Brave New World it seems more like an excuse for personal indulgence and hedonism. Instability may be consciously driven away, but it nevertheless is also the basis on which the greatness of humanity is built. What results is an inanely happy, stable society, one which becomes a plateau of mediocrity. The irony lies in the manner in which such an age-old philosophical and religious tenet may be used for a completely different purpose. The same may be said of the importance given to means over ends. The end of a stable society had been the primary aim of philosophers from Plato right down to Karl Marx. The difference in the various systems of society envisaged is basically one of means. In the society of Brave New World there is nothing violent or cruel or inhumane. The end is clear; the means to it clean, comfortable, and happy. Yet, the Savage is repelled by it, preferring the physical torments of his own country to the cold stability of the ‘civilized’ world. Again, Huxley’s depiction is ironical, primarily because the word “means” encloses not merely the physical needs of a human being, but his emotional requirements as well. An attempt is made in Island to bring about a balance between the two. That is why in Pala, the people have friends and family and are deeply attached to them, but a certain amount of flexibility is given to the structure. As such, there are M.A.C.-s (Mutual Adoption Clubs) consisting of about twenty families, the children of which belong to all these families and can interchange parents whenever they feel like it. Neither is it incumbent upon lovers to remain faithful for life if they do not feel so. Children are given sex education as soon as they attain puberty, and “sex” implies feelings both physical and emotional. The result is a society which both healthy and happy – but unstable because of influences, not from within, but from the imperfect outside world. An ironic parallel to Huxley’s idea of non-attachment is also to be found in Ape and Essence – the other futuristic, anti-utopian novel. Here the people – or rather, monsters – deformed by nuclear war, swear by Belial, and force celibacy on the people for a year, after which they indulge in wild sex for a single fortnight. Their purpose behind this custom is to prevent begetting more deformed babies than they can handle. As it is, the babies that are born deformed from these few riotous days are killed off mercilessly – pulled away from their screaming mothers and impaled to death on a knife. As such, no kind of long-drawn attachment is encouraged, and Loola’s attachment to the outsider, Dr. Poole, is looked upon with anger by the community, which continues to search

The Futuristic Novels 147 for an opportunity to punish them with “Blood … Blood … Blood … Blood … Blood”. The same may be said of “ends” being pursued by “means” in this community. Their “end” or purpose in life is to merely exist in as physically healthy a manner as it is humanly possible in this era of radio-activity, where even the soil has become unfit to grow crops. And to exist, they must eliminate the deformed and the weak, prevent the spread of further deformity, and be ruthless about it. Thus, Belial becomes their deity; God becomes a big joke. And Darwin’s theories of the survival of the fittest, which Huxley imbibed from his grandfather, are also held up to ironic judgement. The irony in both Brave New World and Ape and Essence lies in the deft manipulation of whatever the author held to be genuine and true. Non-attachment is the basis of the new outlook, and means is always given preference over ends in Huxley’s ideal world order. That is why Ape and Essence begins with Gandhi’s assassination, and Huxley wonders how the world can continue to move as usual after such a momentous happening – It was the day of Gandhi’s assassination; but on Calvary the sightseers were more interested in the contents of their picnic baskets than in the possible significance of the, after all, rather commonplace event they had turned out to witness. In spite of all the astronomers can say, Ptolemy was perfectly right: the center of the universe is here, not there. Gandhi might be dead; but across the desk in his office, across the lunch table in the Studio Commissary, Bob Briggs was concerned to talk only about himself.9 Gandhi becomes the epitome to Huxley of the finest kind of non-attachment – non-attachment to oneself – and thus being very much attached to all human beings. Gandhi’s whole life was based on the importance of means rather than ends. After all, the ends vary very little among the various political doctrines – it is the means which differ. The death of such a man, therefore, is directly connected with the fearsome human spectacle that is opened to us through the subsequent screenplay of William Tallis. The irony, therefore, is primarily responsible for inverting the meaning of Huxley’s ideals. Non-attachment by itself is meaningless; rather, it leads to brutality and inhumanity if pursued for its own sake. It must, therefore, be accompanied by another of Huxley’s virtues – decentralization. Island shows Huxley’s ideal; Brave New World and Ape and Essence are both dystopian. Brave New World shows “progress”, where all human beings may live peacefully and happily, but the stability comes at the cost of humaneness, for man becomes demeaned to the level of a machine. Ape and Essence shows “reaction”, where man becomes demeaned to the brutal level through war and destruction. In both cases, the government is highly centralized. In Brave New World, the whole

148  The Futuristic Novels world is ruled by only ten World Controllers, who make the laws, and can therefore also break them with impunity. The Savage attempts to break into the tight security of these laws, and introduce a certain semblance of humanity in this ultra-modern society, but he fails because centralism and conditioning are more powerful than his passionate exhortations. The result is that he becomes a laughing stock. Even Mustapha Mond, the great controller, who alone of all the civilized people understands him, is scornful – “Liberty! Expecting Deltas to know what liberty is! And now expecting them to understand Othello! My good boy!”9 Likewise, in Ape and Essence the nameless Chief, whip in hand, exudes of inhumanity, and, while pronouncing a sentence of twenty-five lashes on a man who has just stolen a ring from a dead body, he refuses to show any mercy, with the following justification – “This is Democracy”, he says. “We’re all equal before the Law. And the Law says that everything belongs to the Proletariat – in other words, it all goes to the State. And what’s the penalty for robbing the State?” The man looks up at him in speechless misery. “What’s the penalty?” The Chief bellows, raising his whip. “Twenty five lashes”, comes the almost inaudible reply. “Good! Well, that settles that, doesn’t it?”10 Which, of course, does not prevent him from donning the clothes of the corpse in question, and appropriating them for himself. Obviously, he considers himself as the state, and also as the Proletariat. It is only in the land of Pala in Island, that actual de-centralization is envisaged, and through it, non-attachment of the most positive kind. The old Raja’s Notes on What’s What and What it Might be Reasonable to Do about What’s What – which is the basic treatise on the running of the state of Pala – the emphasis is on the individual, and on his upliftment, for it is only by this means that the society may progress. A few tenets from these Notes will illustrate this better – • • • •

If I only knew who in fact I am, I should cease to behave as what I think I am; and if I stopped behaving as what I think I am, I should know who I am. In religion all words are dirty words. Anybody who gets eloquent about Buddha, or God, or Christ, ought to have his mouth washed out with carbolic soap. Good being is in the knowledge of who in fact one is in relation to all experiences. The more one knows about individual objects, the more he knows about God.

Give us this day our daily faith, but deliver us, dear God, from belief.10

The Futuristic Novels 149 Decentralization is evident not only in the wider sphere of the State but also in the narrower sphere of the family. Instead of units of one family, the units are of twenty or so families known as M.A.C.-s or “Mutual Adoption Clubs”, where all the children of these families are the responsibility of the club as a whole. Children, therefore, are not subject to the influence of one set of parents, but of twenty sets, which deletes the disadvantages of an individual, and incorporates the good influences of many. The non-attachment which is taught here is not selfishness. Rather, it is more a non-attachment to oneself – living for others, feeling for others, alleviating the pain of others. Self-education includes S.D. – Self-Determination; D.C. – Destiny Control; Moksha-medicine; and of course, meditation, of the most intense and ritualistic kind. Never is the individual separated from community life; never is the community cut off from individual needs. Dr. Macphail sums up the aims and purposes of this state – We have always chosen to adapt our economy and technology to human beings – not our human beings to somebody else’s economy and technology. We import what we can’t make; but we make and import only what we can afford. And what we can afford is limited not merely by our supply of pounds and marks and dollars, but also and primarily ….by our wish to be happy, our ambition to become fully human.11 So also speaks the Principal of the school in Pala, visited by Will Farnaby – Violent feelings, we tell the children, are like earthquakes. They shake us so hard that cracks appear in the wall that separates our private selves from the shared, universal Buddha nature. …Never give children a chance of imagining that anything exists in isolation. Make it plain from the very first that all living is relationship.12 I will attempt to discuss the characters of the Futuristic novels under three heads – the figure of the Outsider, the people of the Future World, and the figure of the Rebel. The types into which Huxley’s characters invariably fall, however, leaves plenty of space for individualities, which vary according to the mood and content of the novels.

The Outsider The term, “Outsider”, has attained so many layers of postcolonial connotations, that now, at the onset of the twenty-first century, it is very difficult to interpret the word merely as a foreigner to the circle which forms the core of the work in question. In the context of the Futuristic novels of Aldous Huxley, that is exactly my meaning, but in the case of

150  The Futuristic Novels Brave New World, one cannot totally avoid a postcolonial standpoint. As has been mentioned earlier, each of the three novels moves round the visit of an outsider to the society which is being portrayed, and in each case the outsider seems to be of the present-day ethos, even though the society is of the future. This is essential in order to provide the necessary link and continuity with today’s society, and to give the impression of a real development towards the utopia or dystopia, whichever is shown. In Brave New World two societies are juxtaposed – the ultra-stable society of A.F. 632 (time here is counted from Our Ford), and the primitive, tribal society that existed before the Machine Age swept in. Most of the novel is devoted to the former, because that is the Brave New World the author is talking about, but the other is invariably brought in as a point of contrast and comparison, symbolizing the opposite to what the age of Our Ford has developed. The postcolonial standpoint does not extend to the question of colonialism, because there is no attempt by the “modern” world to usurp the rights of the “savage” world; rather, the two worlds are strictly separated by a tall, electrified fence, which can be crossed only by helicopter. Thus, even though there is an intrusion of the modern people into the Savage area, the savages can never enter into the modern world. Moreover, the modern people are so nauseated and shocked by the primitive way of life, that they have no thought of usurping their territory or having much to do with them. What is to be noted, however, is the fact that Huxley chooses the primitive society as a form of instinctive, spiritual life, different from the mechanized, physicalized life of the ultra-modern society. There, Shakespeare becomes the expression of the primitivism which includes love, marriage, religious rites, superstition, and cruelty. Here, art consists of “feelies”, and rhymed quatrains to teach children their lessons. In such a situation, the principle characters in Brave New World, as in all the futuristic novels, can be sorted out into three groups – the Savage, representing the primitive world; all the teeming people of the society in the seventh century after Our Ford, including Mustapha Mond, the Director, and Linda; and the two rebels, Bernard Marx and Helmholtz Watson, along with Lenina, whom we may call a half-rebel. Of course, Mustapha Mond and Lenina are the only two in the World State who know of both worlds, but they are nevertheless still spokesmen for their own society. There are actually two “outsiders” in this novel – the Savage, of course, through whom Huxley comments upon the civilization projected, and who represents present-day reality; and Linda, who accidentally loses herself in the Indian Settlement, and has to live there for a large part of her life. In this case, she is an outsider to the primitive civilization, and looks on it with the same horror and wonder that the Savage feels on looking at Mustapha Mond’s society. Neither of them can adjust to the society in which they are catapulted. However, from the reader’s

The Futuristic Novels 151 angle, the Savage emerges as far greater in character, or in emotional depth than anyone from the land of stability and “progress”. Linda, who has never known anything of the rigours of a life of struggle, always remains shallow, permissive, and lacking in self-respect. Under the cover of cleanliness, sweet perfumes, perpetual youth and beauty, and a mild veneer, a woman from A.F.632 seems lovable and attractive, as Lenina is; but without this covering she becomes a combination of ugliness and shallowness, as happens in Linda’s case. On the other hand, the Savage, however, wild looking and rugged he may be, is always attractive to the pretty Alphas and Betas, often probably from an instinctive adoration of men with a certain amount of individuality, standing out from the common mob. The Savage is the closest approximation to a tragic hero in a society in which mediocrity is the rule, and heroism is quite unheard of. He is a human being, as different from the acutely conditioned, artificially created species to be seen in the era of extreme civilization, as it is possible to be. In the age of total physical fulfilment, he appears as one who finds a certain enjoyment in denying his body, whereby he believes he can give freer play to his spirit. Even before entering the World State, when we see him in his native environment, we find him yearning for physical pain. In the midst of a ritual a young boy of about eighteen is sent to walk slowly round a large heap of snakes, while a man with a leather whip slashes at him after every circle. The blood flows freely, but the boy continues as if unaware, till after seven rounds he staggers and falls forward on his face. Even while Lenina and Bernard Marx, who are there, are almost speechless with shock at this spectacle, the Savage is desperately regretful because he is not allowed to take the place of that young man – I ought to have been there. Why wouldn’t they let me be the sacrifice? I’d have gone round ten times – twelve, fifteen. Palowhtiwa only got as far as seven. They could have got twice as much blood from me. The multitudinous seas incarnadine.13 Lenina is astonished – “Do you mean to say that you wanted to be hit with that whip?” But the Savage continues to blame his white complexion for preventing him from being accepted for the rituals he would have given anything to perform. And later, in the World State, he tortures himself in order to punish himself for being physically attracted to Lenina. Exaggerated though the reactions of the Savage are shown to be, they are nevertheless acceptable because they are juxtaposed against the people of the “civilized” society, and set up as a contrast to them. They represent the flesh; he the spirit. That is why his religion is not the original tribal Indian religion, but a combination of Christianity and Totemism. The ritual which Lenina and Marx have the opportunity to

152  The Futuristic Novels witness takes place before two images – one of an eagle, and the other of “a man, naked, and nailed to a cross”.14 Again, John the Savage yearns to perform the ritual “to please Pookong and Jesus”. From the days of Those Barren Leaves Huxley was becoming convinced that neither Christianity nor Heathenism is by itself sufficient, but in combination can provide the ultimate answer to the search for spirituality. This combination is best seen in the final utopia, Island, which shows the true cult of the spirit, as against the cult of the flesh in the brave new world. This spirituality of John must be potent enough to act as a counteractive force to the physicality of the society which he goes to visit, and that is why what often seems exaggeration, is necessary in view of the thematic content of the novel. John, moreover, apart from punishing the flesh which betrays him, also has a keen aesthetic sense, which is lacking in the “civilized” world; and this, on the one hand, enhances the instinctive, emotional, spiritual life which he upholds, and on the other, provides an effective to the inane rhymes which pass for poetry here. Shakespeare, as earlier mentioned, therefore becomes more a symbol than a great writer, and the astonishing love which the savage exhibits for beauty in thought and language, is seen to be almost totally dependent on Shakespeare. In this respect, ironically, the Savage becomes truly civilized; the civilized people backward and uncultured. It is no small irony that however rigorously the “civilized” people may be conditioned, it is nothing compared to the conditioning the savage undergoes. The people of the World State are perpetually afraid of being deconditioned – and indeed there are certain people who are backward in their conditioning, as are Helmholtz or Bernard. But nothing in society can change the savage one whit. He not only remains the same throughout, but is also able to influence others. He is not Christ, but to him Christ is an ideal, for he aspires to suffer for the refinement of the flesh and the spirit – an aspiration towards greatness, a yearning for something better, which transcends the mundane physicality of existence. That is also why he represents the glorious physicality of man, symbolized by the figure of Christ. In the case of the other “outsider” figure – Linda – however, the primitive society can only bring about further degeneration. Having been conditioned to live only on the level of the physical, she is totally immune to the spirituality of the Indian mode of living. On the other hand, the objective ingredients for maintaining the perfection of this physical existence disappear, and she is left with a void which only soma can cure. The pathos of her position lies in the fact that she fails to realize that whatever recognition she has after this, whatever love she earns, and whatever meaning life holds for her, emanates from her role as a mother – a word which is regarded as the worst kind of abuse in her own society. She, therefore, tends to reject with disgust this particular role, and embrace exactly those habits of promiscuity which had been upheld

The Futuristic Novels 153 as virtues in her own country, and are now rejected as vices in the primitive world. The instincts of motherhood give her pleasure and strength, even as her conditioning rejects these instincts – Just think of it: me, a Beta – having a baby: put yourself in my place …. ….They’re so hateful, the women here…They’re having children all the time – like dogs. It’s too revolting. And to think that I… Oh, Ford, Ford, Ford! And yet John was a great comfort to me. I don’t know what I should have done without him.15 The outsiders of the two dystopic novels are more or less of a type, and they have little variation. Of course, it all depends on whether Brave New World is considered dystopic or not. To my mind, it is mechanized reality taken to its logical limits, being now, in the twenty-first century, even more relevant than when it was first published in 1932, in the face of new inventions in the field of genetics, resulting in testtube babies (decantation), and cloning (Bokanovskification). The picture that emerges is fearsome; just as fearsome as it seemed to the Savage. In the case of Ape and Essence, however, the dystopic horror overcomes human society, and it gives even less consolation to understand that this horror is man-made. In such a context, the Outsider, Dr. Poole, is in the predicament of the Savage, but in a far more intensified manner, and in a society which is not in a garb of a utopia, and does not even have the veneer of cleanliness and respectability which the World State has in Brave New World. Dr. Poole and the Savage are different as characters, but they have several features in common. Both face persecution in their respective futures, though the persecution is of a different kind. The Savage in the World State is displayed in public as some kind of dangerous beast. Everything he had ever held as precious and beautiful is held up to ridicule and criticism, and all his attempts at self-imprecation are regarded as foolish and peculiar. It is torture of the most subtle kind. In the case of Dr. Poole the torment is more direct. Ordered to be buried alive in fun, and rescued only after he had been buried upto his neck; made to work with the diggers under stiff security; forced to celibacy in keeping with the rigorous laws of the land; and compelled to swear by Belial and Hell instead of God and Heaven – the predicament of Dr. Poole is not very enviable. Both the Savage and Dr. Poole have finer sensibilities, symbolized respectively by Shakespeare and Shelley. Both are intensely horrified by the picture of the future emerging before their eyes – only, the Savage can express his disgust publicly, while Dr. Poole can do so only to Loola, primarily because the brave new world has relinquished all methods of torture and physical discomfort. Both live in the future, but represent twentieth-century values and opinions, living in small areas of the world which have remained untouched by subsequent changes. By juxtaposing one man against the entire civilization,

154  The Futuristic Novels Huxley, in both his dystopias, is actually juxtaposing the twentieth century against the future rendering of “progress”. In one way, however, Alfred Poole differs from the Savage. John the Savage is a tragic hero, jeopardizing the placid waters of mediocrity, and therefore must suffer, and finally die for it. He can make no lasting mark in the horrifyingly artificial world, for the conditioning is too strong to break through. But he does make a lasting impression on three people – Helmholtz, Marx, and Lenina – whose lives are entirely changed after his arrival. Helmholtz had always had a dormant poet in him, but could never quite understand what made him different from others, and what made him dislike the shallowness of his world and the silly rhymes he was required to frame for the conditioning of the masses. Now, under the influence of the Savage, he comes to a fuller understanding not only of himself as an artist but also of the fact that without struggle there can be no art. Which is why when Mustapha Mond gives him the choice of an island to which he may be banished, he chooses the Falkland Islands for this reason – I should like a thoroughly bad climate. I believe one would write better if the climate were bad if there were a lot of wind and storms for example …16 Similarly, Marx, the coward rebel, who is mortally terrified of being banished to an island, and who at the end passionately protests of his loyalty to the “civilization” which he had so far been so critical of, is nevertheless still changed; for however loudly he may speak to the contrary, he cannot but realize that he is being deprived of an instinctive and emotional life in the dominant quest for stability. And finally, Lenina. Lenina, the insipid, rather tediously pretty and shallow young woman, as she had seemed at the outset, changes towards the end, for she has for the first time been compelled to become aware of the shattering emotion of love – an emotion which she can hardly understand herself. Under physical threat and mental stress, she still goes to the madman who the Savage has become, and for the first time realizes that there is more to Heaven and Earth than Mustapha Mond would allow her to believe – The young woman pressed both hands to her left side, and on that peach-bright, doll-beautiful face of hers appeared a strangely incongruous expression of yearning distress. Her blue eyes seemed to grow larger, brighter; and suddenly two tears rolled down her cheeks. Inaudibly she spoke again; then, with a quick, impassioned gesture, stretched out her arms towards the Savage, and stepped forward.17 It is rather like the Blessed Damozel weeping in Heaven on looking down at her earthly lover. Tears in the dreamland of soma! It had been quite unheard of till the Savage appeared on the scene!

The Futuristic Novels 155 Dr. Poole, unlike the Savage, is no tragic hero. Mentally, he rebels against the life of unmitigated horror that he sees around him. But more often than not, he bends to the law-makers to save his own skin. Forbidden to mention the Almighty God, he obligingly calls on the Almighty Belial, and “clumsily, inexpertly, makes the sign of the horns”.18 When ordered to dig with the grave-diggers, he digs. When ordered to make crops grow (he is a botanist), he obliges to the best of his ability, at least for the time that he remains in that country. And when forced to witness the Purification Ceremony, in which deformed babies are impaled to death in thousands, he faints. Ostensibly, he does not have the heroism of the Savage inveighing against the bestiality of the post-World-War III society, and often seems so ordinary, as to be almost comic in his behaviour – as in his reactions to being buried alive – We are shown a close-up of the botanist’s agonized face. “Mercy, mercy …” The voice breaks, grotesquely; there is another burst of hilarity. In the middle of the final phrase the two girl grave-diggers enter the shot. Approaching the singer from behind, the plump one gives him a friendly slap on the back. Dr. Poole starts, turns around, and looks suddenly apprehensive. But her smile is reassuring. “I’m Flossie”, she says. “And I hope you’re not cross because I wanted to bury you?” “Oh, no, no, no, not a bit”, Dr. Poole assures her in the tone of one who says he has no objection to the young lady lighting a cigarette. “It’s not that I had anything against you, “Flossie assures him. “Of course not”. “I just wanted a laugh, that’s all”. “Quite, quite”. “People look so screamingly funny when they’re being buried”. “Screamingly”, Dr.Poole agrees, and forces a nervous giggle.19 It is this comic commonness that makes Dr. Poole so very endearing and human. Yet, quite a different side of his personality emerges, when, in love with Loola, he plans to run away with her in search of a more congenial civilization and a better tomorrow, with Shelley’s poems in his hand, and the knowledge of growing crops in the wilderness in his head. He knows that there is a greater chance of being caught and tortured to death than of escaping, but nevertheless he finds the strength to escape. It is as if at the fag end of his career, Huxley is reiterating what he had asserted in Ends and Means more than twelve years ago –

156  The Futuristic Novels Love and understanding are valuable even on the biological level. Hatred, unawareness, stupidity, and all that makes for increase of separateness are the qualities that, as a matter of historical fact, have led either to the extinction of a species, or to its becoming a living fossil, incapable of making further biological progress. 20 The outsider in Island, Will Farnaby, is somewhat different from either the Savage or Dr. Poole, primarily because he is entering an ideal, and, representing imperfection himself, is in no position to pass judgement. In one way, of course, he shares the character of the other two in that he, too, is the voice of the twentieth-century civilization, asking those very questions, and passing those very comments which we would have done ourselves. Yet it is the other way round. In Island we see the influence, not of the outsider on the society, but of the society on the outsider. Will Farnaby at the beginning, is a true son of “the great world of impersonal forces and proliferating numbers of collective paranoias, and organized diabolism”. 21 – but by the end, it is he who looks on the overtaking of Pala by Col. Dipa with horror, and will not obey the Rani’s missive – “Tell your mother I’m very sorry, but I have a prior engagement. With someone who is dying”22 – he tells the persistent Murugan. Will Farnaby’s is the story, not of the degeneration of mankind, but its regeneration. When he first enters Pala, he enters as spy and betrayer, working for Joe Aldehyde, an oil and newspaper magnate, who himself is working for the Rani and her son, Murugan, the traitors of Pala. His nature is seen through easily by the Palans. According to Dr. Macphail, he has – The physique of a Messiah. But too clever to believe in God or be convinced of his own mission. And too sensitive, even if he were convinced, to carry it out. His muscles would like to act and his feelings would like to believe; but his nerve-endings and his cleverness won’t allow it. And then the conversation with his daughter Sushila continues – SUSHILA:  “So I suppose he’s very unhappy”. MACPHAIL:  “So unhappy that he has to laugh

like a hyena”. “Does he know that he laughs like a hyena?” “Knows and is rather proud of it. Even makes epigrams about it”.23

Will Farnaby himself declares – “All I’m interested in is money. Two thousand pounds without doing a hand’s turn of work. A year of freedom just for helping Joe Aldehyde to get his hands on Pala”. 24

The Futuristic Novels 157 Yet the seeds of virtues are in himself, and the system of Pala is to work on this seed till he has banished the vices from his character. Even when he is sending the cable to Aldehyde, with his betrayal of Pala sealed in it, he has a moment of hesitation – What charming young people! And here he was, plotting with Bahu and the forces of history, to subvert their world. He comforted himself with the thought that, if he didn’t do it, somebody else would. 25 It is this which shows that he does have an element of conscience, which later upbraids him for what he has done, and makes him exclaim at the end – “The work of a hundred years destroyed in a single night!”26

The Future Peoples As has been mentioned earlier, the characters of the futuristic novels can be grouped into three classes – the outsiders, the people of the future world, and the rebels. Obviously, the second group is the most populous and is the most representative of the world in question, utopic or dystopic. Of course, we are in this context again reminded of that old allegation of flatness, the futuristic people being very like pale clones of each other. Upto a certain extent this criticism is admissible, inasmuch that the characters are products of their age, and as such are represented in their similarity, and not in their variety. Thus, all the people of the brave new world are beautiful, they believe that emotional attachments must be avoided, they indulge in free sex, they all take soma, and they intensely believe that everything that is past is best forgotten. In Ape and Essence, the return to barbarism is illustrated through the savagery of the people, and they all more or less fit into the cruel, dirty, distorted society that results with the end of the nuclear war. So with Island. Pala may be an ideal, but its people are all more or less bordering on perfection, however much Sushila may try to assert her faults – “Plus an idiot [herself]. Plus a rather worried and not very efficient mother. Plus a bit of the little prig and day-dreamer I was as a child”. 27 This emphasis on the similarity between people, even though it has the danger of creating marionettes rather than human beings is nevertheless necessary, because Huxley is not attempting to portray character – his attention is captured more by the society that will emerge, given the present trends. Even in this set-up, what strikes the eye is not the sameness, but the variety that does emerge even from the overall mediocrity. The rebels are a class apart: they do not enter this particular discussion, and they will be dealt with later. Within the sphere of the ordinary representatives of the society in question, there are some who are individualized and set apart from the rest. In Brave New World, for example, Linda is a true representative of her own society, and even after several years in an Indian settlement, she does

158  The Futuristic Novels not change one whit. Yet, even through the inexorable conditioning, we see now, in a different atmosphere, some glimpses of the woman underneath. The word “mother” is repulsive to her, and she cannot bear her son calling her as such, yet she cannot but be drawn to her child – “They’re so hateful, the women here. Mad, mad and cruel. And of course they don’t know anything about Malthusian drill, or bottles, or decanting, or anything of that sort. So they’re having children all the time – like dogs. It’s too revolting. And to think that I…Oh, Ford, Ford, Ford! And yet John was a great comfort to me. I don’t know what I should have done without him”. 28 And again in that poignant scene in which Linda feels emotions for her son which she had never felt before – He pressed himself against her. He put his arm round her neck. Linda cried out. “Oh, be careful. My shoulder! Oh!” And she pushed him away, hard. His head banged against the wall. “Little idiot!” She shouted; and then, suddenly, she began to slap him. Slap, slap … “Linda”, he cried out. “Oh, mother, don’t!” “I’m not your mother. I won’t be your mother”. “But, Linda ….Oh!” She slapped him on the cheek. “Turned into a savage”, she shouted. “Having young ones like an animal …If it hadn’t been for you, I might have gone to the Inspector, I might have gone away. But not with a baby. That would have been too shameful”. He saw that she was going to hit her again, and lifted his arm to guard his face. “Oh don’t, Linda, please don’t”. “Little beast!” She pulled down his arm; his face was uncovered. “Don’t, Linda”. He shut his eyes, expecting the blow. But she didn’t hit him. After a little time, he opened his eyes again and saw that she was looking at him. He tried to smile at her. Suddenly she put her arms round him and kissed him again and again. 29 Linda is placed by Fate in two worlds so different from one another, that, as Bernard Marx commented – “As though we were living on different planets in different centuries”. Linda, already conditioned in one world, finds it very difficult to adjust to the other, and this ordeal that she has to face is actually made believable, and attains the level of an actual conflict, even though her character is no rounder than any of the others in the society of Our Ford.

The Futuristic Novels 159 Another person who can be mentioned in this context is the Director of Hatcheries and Conditioning (the D.H.C.). A proud man who lords it over his inferiors, he walks and speaks with authority, and upbraids people like Marx, who tend to move away from the ordinary. Even Mustapha Mond, the Controller, is not so obviously steeped in his own importance as the Director. Yet, the director too has a past – a criminal offence in this society, and this adds depth to his character in a subtle manner. He has felt deep emotion – something which is strongly discouraged – witness the hypnopaedic adage: “When the individual feels, the community reels” – and he can never forget that experience. He has been to the savage enclosure with a girl (who later turns out to be Linda) who got lost there. Amid a raging thunderstorm, and with a hurt knee, he had spent hours searching for her, all the time fearful that she had fallen into a gully or been eaten by a mountain lion. He expresses his emotions thus – “… It upset me very much at the time. More than it ought to have done, I dare say. Because, after all, it is the sort of accident that might have happened to anyone; and, of course, the social body persists even though the component cells may change”. But this sleep-taught consolation did not seem to be very effective. Shaking his head, “I actually dream about it sometimes”, the Director went on in a low voice. “Dream of being woken up by the peal of thunder and finding her gone; dream of searching and searching for her under the trees”. He lapsed into the silence of reminiscence.30 This particular incident becomes the fatal flaw in his character – the Hamartia leading to his fall, and to making him a butt of ridicule to all those over whom he had exercised his authority previously. When Linda, bloated, ugly, and evil-smelling, returns to her own country with Bernard Marx, she throws herself into his arms with joy, and publicly announces that he is the father of her son. The vile word “father”, and the fact that it is the Director, the picture of conventionality, who becomes one, makes the people standing around howl with laughter and fun. It is no tragedy – there can be no tragedy in this kind of civilization – but it certainly is comedy of the most biting kind. One character in the place which the Savage calls “Brave new world”, cannot but be mentioned here – Mustapha Mond, one of the ten World Controllers. He is the leader of the people, conditioning them, controlling them, preaching of stability to them, and punishing them when they deviate from strict conventionality – but he certainly is different, and probably the most human person after the Savage. The common band of people have been decanted, conditioned, and made to think along a fixed line – they know no other; and consequently, live under the fixed belief that theirs is the ultimate and the only right way of life. Any other way is savage and contemptible to them. They are not allowed to eat

160  The Futuristic Novels the forbidden fruit of the tree of knowledge, because just as Adam was denied knowledge of evil, so they are denied knowledge of the Old (which here is synonymous with evil), in case they are corrupted by it. The only person who has knowledge of both is Mustapha Mond, and is therefore a more complete person than any of his contemporaries. As he himself tells John and Marx – “But as I make the laws here, I can also break them. With impunity Mr. Marx … Which I’m afraid you can’t do”.31 Mustapha Mond, therefore, has the privilege of a choice, which none of the others do – a choice which he faced from even before he became a Controller. He had been a physicist, whose interests went beyond the strict parameters of scientific exploration laid down by the community, and he had a love for truth which equalled Helmholtz’s love for beauty. As such, he had been very nearly been sent to an island – the conventional form of punishment in this set-up. Only, it is not really punishment, but actually a reward for those “who got too self-consciously individual to fit into community life”, for on an island they “meet the most interesting set of men and women to be found anywhere in the world…all the people who aren’t satisfied with orthodoxy, who’ve got independent ideas of their own. Everyone, in a word, who’s anyone”.32 However, he is given a choice – to be sent to an island, where he could have continued in his pursuit of pure science, or to be taken on into the Controllers’ Council, with the prospect of succeeding in due course to actual Controllership. He chose the latter and emphasizes not once, but several times, that he did it not for his own happiness, but for the happiness of others. And indeed, even though he is the true defender of his system, he is also the person who comes closest to a conflict. He still has regrets about not choosing the other alternative, and often he sighs – “I rather regret the science. Happiness is a rather hard taskmaster – particularly other people’s happiness. A much harder taskmaster, if one isn’t conditioned to accept it unquestionably, than truth”.33 In Ape and Essence, the variety results not from differences in individual characters, but between types of characters, as is usual in the Huxleyan type of fiction. The form of this novel is such that it can automatically accommodate different types of characters. Ape and Essence begins in the twentieth century – in 1948, precisely, on the date of Gandhi’s assassination. The characters are typically of this age – a film director, Bob Briggs, his employee, Lou Lublin, and the author himself – who live their sordid lives of salary raises and adulteries, and are happily unaware of the implications of the killing of Gandhi, and along with him, non-violence. They come upon a rejected film script which has fallen from a load of such rejected scripts, and it is this script which forms the rest of the novel. The script now introduces us to two other societies – a civilization of baboons taming human beings for a change and the society after World War III, which takes up most of the narrative. This, therefore, leads us to two different sets of characters, who are juxtaposed with the actual twentieth-century people presented at the

The Futuristic Novels 161 beginning. The basic idea behind it all is a satirical propaganda against war, but this is presented on different levels through the three tiers of characters presented. The first is reality, which lies at the base, and is the foundation on which the others are built. Given the present set-up the future may occur, and therefore, in however perfunctory a manner, the present must be shown. The second tier, the baboon society, acts as a symbolic background to both the twentieth century and the postWorld War III societies. It is a community of mindless enjoyment in the midst of mushroom clouds, one of which finally manages to kill all the baboons off. Several Einsteins and Michael Faradays are kept as dogs on leashes by policemen, and as they protest against the prospect of the total destruction of civilization by irrational science, they are whipped and kicked and silenced, as the latest popular song continues – Love, Love Love – Love’s the very essence Of everything I think, of everything I do. Give me, Give me, Give me, Give me detumescence That means you.34 This line, “Give me detumescence”, becomes the theme music of everything that is to follow, and it very succinctly sums up the social and cultural ethos which has led mankind to come to such a pass. The baboon society actually gives us the events between the Second World War and the Third World War in symbolic form. Since actual events are beyond the sphere of man’s cognition, the link between the present, shown at the beginning, and the future, shown at the end, can best be shown symbolically. The baboon dancers and baboon policemen thus cannot be regarded as characters in the ordinary sense, for they are not individualized, and only occur as illustrations of a hypothesis. They are not personifications of ideas, as in Point Counter Point or After Many a Summer; indeed, they can hardly be called personifications at all. Rather, we may say that human beings are bestialized. The post-World War III scenario, as presented in Ape and Essence, is also almost totally based on hypothesis, but here the illusion of reality is maintained through, first, the outsider, Dr. Poole, and second, the expected holocaust already fixed in men’s minds by the prospects of a nuclear war. The barbarism and horror of a barren civilization is linked to the first two levels of the book, which prepare us for such a civilization. The characters here are thus unindividualized, as all human beings suffer the same fate, resulting in both degeneration of the mind and of the body. Minor individual traits do occur – as in the figure of the Chief, or of the Arch-Vicar,

162  The Futuristic Novels or of the girl called Flossie. Flossie typicalizes her female peers. Plump and perpetually cheerful, she is extremely excited at the prospect of Dr. Poole being buried alive because “people look so screamingly funny when they are being buried”. Consequently, she is extremely disappointed when he is subsequently let off. She is also one of the first to spot Loola’s weakness for “that foreign hot”, Dr. Poole, and admonish her for it. She also threatens both Loola and her lover with dire consequences if they carry on meeting each other beyond Belial Day. There is nothing extraordinary about her, except the fact that she is singled out from the crowd, and is in every way a product of the society she is born in. Likewise, the Chief. As Loola represents the ordinary citizen of the land of Belial, so the Chief represents the leader, the lawmaker. He is the defendant of the democracy of the land – a democracy in which a digger gets twenty five lashes for surreptitiously putting away a dead man’s ring, a ring which the Chief openly appropriates for himself. His idea of true democracy is amply illustrated by this following conversation with Loola – “You seem to forget”, says the first Familiar, “that this is a Democracy…” “A Democracy”, adds his colleague, “in which every proletarian enjoys perfect freedom”. “True freedom”. “Freely doing the will of the Proletariat”. “And vox proletariatus, vox Diaboli”. “While of course, vox Diaboli, vox Ecclesiae”. “And we here are the Church’s representatives”. “So you see”. “But I’m tired of cemeteries”, the girl insists. “I’d like to dig up live things for a change”. There is a brief silence. Then the Grand Inquisitor’s Special Assistance bends down and, from under his chair, produces a very large consecrated bull’s pizzle, which he lays on the table before him. Then he turns to his subordinates. “Correct me if I’m wrong”, he says. “But my impression is that any vessel rejecting proletarian liberty is liable to twenty five lashes for each and every such offence”. There is another silence. Pale and wide-eyed Loola stares at the instrument of torture, then looks away, makes an effort to speak, finds herself voiceless and, swallowing hard, tries again. I won’t resist”, she manages to bring out. “I really want to be free”.

The Futuristic Novels 163 “Free to go on mining cemeteries?” She nods affirmatively.35 Like Flossie, the Chief has no surprises in his character, and he is used to show the nature of mankind as transformed by war and destruction. The only person who both represents the mass, and is yet an individual, is the Arch-Vicar. Yet, just as the Chief is the Defender of the state, so the Arch-Vicar is of the Church – Church and State, Greed and Hate – Two baboon-persons In one Supreme Gorilla.36 His physique belies his status. He has “the voice of a ten- year-old, but with the long-winded and polysyllabic unctuousness of a veteran ecclesiastic, long accustomed to playing the role of a superior being set apart from and above his fellows”.37 The Arch-Vicar is the only one with an ironical sense of humour and comparatively refined sensibilities. He is well-read and has read many of the important books published after the “Thing” (meaning World War III). As such, he is the only person with any ability to compare Christianity with the cult of Belial. Dr. Poole is shocked at the impaling of deformed babies on Belial Day, and at the continuous refrain – “Blood…Blood…Blood…Blood…Blood”. The Arch-Vicar at once points out – “And yet there’s blood in your religion too… ‘Washed in the blood of the Lamb’. Isn’t that correct?”.38 On the other hand, he can also pat the embarrassed Poole on the back and ask him to go on with his amorous exploits on that day. He is also the only one who can give a consistent historical picture of what happened between the Second and the Third World Wars and also has the ability to analyse and form logical conclusions – as at the lecture he gives at the end in St. Azazel’s Church, on which he asks Dr. Poole to comment. Even Poole is impressed by his interpretation of history. And over and above everything, he somehow forms a liking for the foreigner, and even tells him so – “You know Poole, I’ve got to be very fond of you”. Indeed, his liking goes so far as to even offer him the prospect of priesthood on his own lines. It is no wonder that Poole, if he ever comes close to anyone there apart from Loola, comes somewhat close to the mind of the Arch-Vicar. Island has been criticized as being the most propagandist of Huxley’s novels, and indeed, being a utopia itself, it cannot but be regarded by most people as pure didacticism. Moreover, an ideal is never as interesting as dystopic horror, for Hell is always more interesting than Heaven. Yet, to prove the dystopic reality, the utopia must be created as a point of contrast and reference. The role that Rampion plays in Point Counter Point, or Miller in Eyeless in Gaza, or Propter in After Many a Summer, has no

164  The Futuristic Novels counterpart in the dystopias that Huxley presents, and if only to provide a tenable philosophical background to the technological horror presented in Brave New World or the savage horror shown in Ape and Essence, Island had to be written. To increase the impact of Hell, a corresponding Heaven must be created. A small hint of what Island symbolizes is provided in Ape and Essence by the Arch-Vicar, but from his own point of view – Just think if they’d [the people in the post-World War II era] made the best! … Eastern mysticism making sure that Western science should be properly used; the Eastern art of living refining Western energy; Western individualism tempering Eastern totalitarianism”. He shakes his head in pious horror. “Why, it would have been the kingdom of heaven. Happily the grace of Belial was stronger than the Other One’s grace.39 That is why the people in Island are so perfect that they hardly seem human at all. Even their names show this perfect fusion of the best in Eastern and Western cultures – Tom Krishna, Mary Sarojini, and Sushila Macphail, for example. Such names also symbolize the total lack of illogical prejudices of West against East, and vice versa – thus, an openness of mind and a broadening of outlook. They are supposed to serve as role models for this flawed, wayward generation, showing humanity at its best, and developing those qualities which will refine man’s feelings and sensibilities. Actually, Pala is the culmination of man’s progress – there are no more heights to reach for. Which is why it is static, not dynamic. If there is any conflict there, it is between those who have attained the ideal, and those who act as traitors to the ideal – those people who are so mundane that they are incapable of realizing the value of their way of life, and are more attracted to the reactionary mode of the rest of the world. The conflict, therefore, is within – between those inclinations of man which raise him, and those which pull him down. Again, these two opposing attitudes of the human being are personalized into different individuals, whereby the majority of Palans fall into the first category, and a handful of reactionaries, like the Rani and her son, into the second. It is rather like a Dr. Jekyll-and-Mr. Hyde case, where the opposing attitudes are separated and brought into conflict with each other. Finally, regretfully, the handful wins, because Good is woefully incapable of defending itself against the superior physical strength of the Mundane – and herein lies the flaw in the perfection. Defence – not necessarily physical and violent defence – must also be a component of the perfect. Kubla Khan’s Xanadu could not defend its perfection, and therefore remains a dream which poets may yearn for. So with Pala. Thus, the prospect of a Brave New World and of a world of barrenness after a nuclear holocaust, remains more believable – and terrifying – than the prospect of perfection, as in Pala. The former is the natural outcome of present-day reality; the latter

The Futuristic Novels 165 is the dream of Heaven which mankind has forever sighed after and never yet attained. The former is what will be; the latter what might have been if mankind had been but a little more circumspect.

The Rebels The third category of characters in the futuristic novels is the most animated, the most interesting, and the most remarkable in the land which is being described. They are the exceptions to the rule, and therefore the elements of change. Each of the three novels, in its own way, is brought to life by the rebels working beneath the social structure. In Brave New World and Ape and Essence, they work towards a better future; in Island they do so for the worse. Also, because these rebels, in a dystopia, work for positive forces, and in the utopia for the negative, they are closer to the twentieth century, and therefore more identifiable with our own people than those of the future. That is why they come closer to the outsiders than any of the other characters. In Brave New World, the rebels consist mainly of two people – Helmholtz Watson and Bernard Marx, joined partly by Lenina. Here Helmholtz Watson is most perfectly the complete rebel – the true poet living in a world of strictly harnessed science, a world where neither pure science, nor pure poetry can possibly exist. Helmholtz, therefore, feels a restlessness, the cause of which he cannot identify; he feels in himself the stirring of images he cannot understand; and all this results in a certain vague dissatisfaction with the brainless enjoyment of the life he has to live. These unidentified sensibilities form in him an urge to express himself better and to create beauty in the world – a beauty which transcends the pleasures of his surroundings and can crystallize only in the context of their opposite – suffering. Indeed, since the implications of joy cannot be realized unless it is juxtaposed with suffering, so Helmholtz’s story can be summarized as a search for suffering, to be materialized only at the very end, when he has come to understand his true requirements. Helmholtz is a man who is in every way superior to his peers and indeed, to even Alpha-Plus personalities. His profession is befitting his abilities – or as befitting as this society can provide, which is not very much – a lecturer at the College of Emotional Engineering (Department of Writing). Thus, apart from lecturing, he is also required to write rhymes for hypnopaedic conditioning, to compose feely scenarios, and to formulate slogans for the masses. Obviously, for a man of his superior poetic abilities, this is not merely inadequate, but positively demeaning. His abilities attempt to wear themselves off in different pursuits – he is an Escalator Squash Champion; he is an indefatigable lover, even in the standards of A.F.632 (it was said that he had had six hundred and forty different girls in under four years); he is an admirable committee man, and a popular mixer. But his true inclinations are still unknown to him –

166  The Futuristic Novels [He] had realized quite suddenly that sport, women, communal activities were only, so far as he was concerned, second bests. Really and at bottom, he was interested in something else. But in what? In what?40 He realizes his talents, he loves his raw material – words – yet he has no clue as to how he should use them – I’m thinking of a queer feeling I something get, a feeling that i’ve got something important to say and the power to say it – only I don’t know what it is, and I can’t make use of the power. If there was some different way of writing…I’m pretty good at inventing phrases – you know, the sort of words that make you jump, almost as though you’d sat on a pin, they seem so new and exciting even though they’re about something hypnopaedically obvious. But that doesn’t seem enough. It’s not enough for the phrases to be good; what you make with them ought to be good too.41 He tries to artificially generate unfulfillment by forcing himself to restrain his sexual desires, and is astonished at the result – A physical shortcoming could produce a kind of mental excess. The process, it seemed, was reversible. Mental excess could produce, for its own purposes, the voluntary blindness and deafness of deliberate solitude, the artificial impotence of asceticism.42 When the Savage is throwing away the soma rations of the Bokanovskified Deltas, in an attempt to teach them “manhood and freedom”, Helmholtz actually comes to help him, not because he is committed to giving Deltas their freedom, but because he can get involved in an incident that is out of the ordinary endless pursuit of happiness. Laughing with exultation at the spectacle of the Savage throwing the soma away in all directions with one hand, and punching the indistinguishable faces of the deltas with the other, he begins punching too, ignoring Bernard Marx’s frightened warnings. He thus lands, along with Marx and the Savage, into the chamber of the Controller, Mustapha Mond. There is another reason for his having to be brought into the presence of the great Controller. This is a poem which he had written in a moment of profound self-expression; and as if that was not enough, he had recited it to the Third Year students of the course on Advanced Emotional Engineering. The poem had been about Solitude, not as something to reject, as taught in the hypnopaedic conditioning, but as something to embrace. It had thus been regarded as “heretical”, and dangerous to the society, having the power to decondition the weeks of conditioning it had taken to bring the children up to social standards. Helmholtz, thus,

The Futuristic Novels 167 is not satisfied with creating; he also wants to share his creation. This is the same emotion which leads him to enjoy Shakespeare with the Savage. Added to this is a perverse streak in his character, which likes to shock and shake people into contemplation. When asked why he had read out something so potentially dangerous, he replies – Pure madness, of course; but I couldn’t resist it….I was curious to see what their reactions would be. Besides, I wanted to do a bit of propaganda; I was trying to engineer them into feeling as I’d felt when I wrote the rhymes.43 This streak of madness is the most potent aspect of his truly poetic temperament, and is the trait which potentially gives him the ability to create beauty and lead people on to share it, as Coleridge’s Kubla Khan does – And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honeydew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.44 That is why he is dangerous to the community. The love of beauty, as the love of truth, has the power to destroy what is merely ordinary and stable. That is why Mond had to choose between science (truth) and general happiness; and that is why Helmholtz has to be banished to an island, because he is more committed to beauty (poetry) than to stability. In this I beg to differ from critics like Peter Firchow who attempt to establish that Bernard Marx is more of a threat to the society than Helmholtz, who to their opinion hardly poses any danger at all – ….This is not simply to say that Bernard is more stupid than Helmholtz, which he probably is, but rather that because of his physical inferiority he has developed a compulsive need to assert his superiority. It is this incapacity which, paradoxically, seems to make Bernard the more dangerous threat, for it compels him to rise to a position of power in his society; he wants to be accepted by society, but only on his own terms, terms that are not acceptable in the long run if stability is to be maintained. Helmholtz on the other hand, is a loner, who really wants nothing to do with the society at all, and in this sense he represents much less of a threat.45 Helmholtz has the rare quality of being physically attractive, compellingly convincing, and honourable as a human being, all at once. That is why, being a worshipper of beauty and “X-raying phrases” himself, he

168  The Futuristic Novels has the power to draw people towards his own love – a love of beauty which lies dormant in everybody, and can easily be revived – and that is why he is dangerous to a society of mindless enjoyment, and rigorous, one-way conditioning. Bernard Marx, on the other hand, poses less of a threat for the very reason that he is unacceptable to the people in general, who are contemptuous of his “Gamma-Minus physique”, and the “alcohol in his blood-surrogate”; and who interpret all his unorthodox views and behaviour as due to flawed bottling. The development of Helmholtz Watson to a complete human being owes a lot to the influence of the Savage. It is no accident that they take to one another at once, and so cordially that Bernard becomes jealous. Indeed, Bernard “in all these weeks had never come to so close an intimacy with the Savage as Helmholtz immediately achieved”.46 It is of course true, as I have pointed out earlier, that the influence of the Savage on Helmholtz is far greater than Helmholtz’s influence on the Savage – and under this influence he comes to an understanding of the nature of true poetry, and the suffering necessary to create it. But even recognizing the role of the Savage in this development of Helmholtz, it must also be admitted that the question remains of whether Helmholtz would have been banished to an island if he had not met the Savage. I believe he would. The seeds of the rebel were already there in him, and even before he meets the Savage, we see signs of his sickening of the life that he is forced to live. He is a man who can live life as fully as it is possible to live in this society, yet “this admirable committee man and best mixer had realized quite suddenly that sport, women, and communal activities were only, so far as he was concerned, second bests”. Again, later, even before John introduces him to Shakespeare, he has begun to write “pornographic” poems about solitude – something which is only realized on the imaginative plane, for solitude is unheard of in this society. Actually, the Savage acts as a catalyst on Helmholtz, activating those impulses which had already been budding in him. The case is rather different with Bernard Marx. He is the one who “discovers” the Savage and brings him over to the World State. But he is the one among the “rebels” who is the least influenced by him. Yet, he is the only one among them who has a real conflict working within him. The conflict the Savage undergoes is precipitated by his attraction towards Lenina, and this goes against everything he has learnt about the evils of the flesh. Actually, his conflict stops there. Not so with Bernard Marx. In his case, it is a conflict of outlook, of lifestyle, and of being different from others. That is why there is always a vacillation in his behaviour – sometimes swinging one way, sometimes the other. This is true in Marx but not in Helmholtz because even though both are different from the normal brand of people in their society, Helmholtz is acutely aware of his superiority to the rest, and is intensely restless as a result. On the other hand, Marx is intensely aware of his inferiority, and is perpetually

The Futuristic Novels 169 attempting to hide it under a defiant exterior. In this, Peter Firchow’s opinion, that he is another of Huxley’s anti-heroes, holds good. Marx is small in figure, and in the World State the various castes decrease in stature according to their inferiority in the social scale. The Alphas are the tallest, and Marx, being an Alpha, is an exception, having in their terminology, “a Gamma-Minus physique”. His critics believe that this is the result of an overdose of alcohol in his blood-surrogate while he was being bottled. Secondly, apart from the discomfort this causes him, he is intensely uncomfortable in physical relationships with women – which again, is rather an exception, and singles him out as abnormal. In the Solidarity Service, for instance, his is only a half-hearted participation, and while the others are enraptured with soma and ritual, sex and dancing, he is dissatisfied and bitter – Wasn’t it wonderful?” Said Fifi Bradlaugh. “Wasn’t it simply wonderful?” She looked at Bernard with an expression of rapture… “Yes, I thought it was wonderful”, he lied and looked away; the sight of her transfigured face was at once an ironical reminder of his own separateness. He was as miserably isolated now as he had been when the service began – more isolated by reason of his unreplenished emptiness, his dead satiety.47 And indeed, being alone is positively banned in this State. Helmholtz was reported because he yearned for solitude in a poem. Like Helmholtz, Bernard wants to be alone. Lenina suggests all kinds of ways of spending the time – a swim at the Torquay Country Club, a dinner at the Oxford Union, a round of Electro-Magnetic golf at St. Andrews – but Bernard is not tempted by any of her suggestions. His way of spending the time is to go for long walks in the Lake District, talking – only talking – alone with Lenina. She is duly astonished – “But, Bernard, we shall be alone all night!” He is embarrassed, for he has again been caught making unconventional suggestions – “I meant, alone for talking”. To her, walking and talking was a very odd way of spending an afternoon. And over and above this, he will not take soma until absolutely necessary – “I’d rather be myself. Myself and nasty. Not somebody else, however jolly”.48 Many of Bernard’s ideas are very similar to those of Helmholtz, and this is the reason why they are the best of friends and stick together. He cannot bear Lenina repeating hypnopaedic lines, and in frustration, he even becomes blasphemous – “Even Epsilons are useful! So am I. And I damned well wish I weren’t”. “Bernard! How can you?” Lenina exclaims in shock. And he answers – How can I?….No, the real problem is: How is it that I can’t, or rather – because, after all, I know quite well why I can’t – what would it be like if I could, if I were free – not enslaved by my conditioning….

170  The Futuristic Novels But wouldn’t you like to be free to be happy in some other way, Lenina? In your way, for example, not in everybody else’s way?49 It is the same with sex. “Everyone thinks I’m awfully pneumatic”, Lenina tells him. “Like meat”, he thinks. She continues – “You think I’m alright? In every way?” “Perfect”, he says aloud, but inwardly he thinks – she doesn’t mind being meat. Like Helmholtz he wants to feel something really strongly, and in search of feeling he goes to visit the Indian Settlement and is interested enough in John the Savage to inquire about his thoughts and sentiments. Even when he is contemptuous of the Director for being a father, he is secretly rather envious of him for having been in an excruciating situation in the Indian Enclosure, when he had frantically searched for Linda in the wilderness, and had been unable to find her. Yet he is not the hero that Helmholtz is, and the biggest difference between them is that Marx lacks the courage to carry out his rebelliousness to its logical end, quite unlike Helmhlotz. Helmholtz feels himself to be greater than the ordinary, and thus different; Marx feels himself to be lesser, and so never misses an opportunity to display himself in the public eye. When he fails, and manages to be rudely rejected most of the time, he becomes plaintive and self-pitying, portraying a lack of self-­ respect which Helmholtz cannot digest. This is exactly what happens in this connection with the Savage. His close relationship with the Savage brings him a renown and popular demand which he had never had before, but though instinctively aware of it, he fails to realize that the people are only tolerating him because their real attraction is towards the Savage. The girls who had never come running to him, now come in crowds, but only to make him a stepping-stone to establishing a relationship with the Savage – which, of course, never happens. His rebelliousness is deep down; he cannot accept the superficiality of the life that he is forced to lead. But when it comes to real action – compelling the society to listen to him – he fails. That is why Helmholtz can join the Savage in destroying the soma, but Marx is confused – Hesitant on the fringes of the battle, “They’re done for”, said Bernard and, urged by a sudden impulse, ran forward to help them; then thought better of it and halted; then, ashamed, stepped forward again; then again thought better of it, and was standing in an agony of humiliated indecision – thinking that they might be killed if he didn’t help them, and that he might be killed if he did – when (Ford be praised), goggle-eyed and swine-snouted in their gas masks, in ran the police”.50 Marx’s whole character seems to be a conflict of to be or not to be. And his tragedy lies in the fact that he chooses not to be. At the end, in the

The Futuristic Novels 171 presence of Mustapha Mond, Helmholtz is collected and proud, rather enjoying the interesting prospect of a change in routine. Marx is jittery, nervous, and cringing – ready to do anything to prevent Mond from sending him to an island as punishment. He does not even ask about what the conditions of the island are going to be, and loses control of himself completely – “Send me to an island?” He jumped up, ran across the room, and stood gesticulating in front of the Controller. “You can’t send me. I haven’t done anything. It was the others. I swear it was the others”. He pointed accusingly to Helmholtz and the Savage. “Oh, please don’t send me to Iceland. I’ll promise I’ll do what I ought to do. Give me another chance”. The tears began to flow. “I tell you it’s their fault”, he sobbed. “And not to Iceland. Oh, please, your fordship, please….” And in a paroxysm of abjection he threw himself on his knees before the Controller”.51 Helmholtz is often ashamed of this lack of pride in his friend, and often has to suffer long hours of listening to boastful tirades from him. But to his credit, he remains the best friend that Marx can possess, and Marx does not realize it. The rebel Marx is often buried under the coward Marx, and since this happens most of all at the end, the final impression is one of regretful sympathy for a cause that never quite took off the ground. Lenina is a different kind of rebel. It may seem astonishing that I have considered her to be a rebel at all, for through most of the book she is saddened by Marx’s peculiar ideas, and tries her best to bring him back to “normal”. Her choices and preferences are extremely conventional, and apart from enjoying the activities which everyone else enjoys, she can feel glad when the Director pats her on the bottom in the Fertilizer Room, and when men call her “pneumatic”. In other words, she “likes being meat”, as Marx puts it. She is surprised at Bernard’s wanting to spend time in walking and talking, and scandalized when he speaks of being free to do and think as he likes. The presence of the Savage can only make her express her liking for him in the only way she knows – taking off her clothes and trying to lead him into bed. Yet, the fact that she is in many ways different from the ordinary is evident from the very beginning. She is continually upbraided by her friend Fanny for her tendency of being a one-man woman. When she goes around with Henry Foster, she does so with him only – which is looked on with disapproval by the society. She is the only one who is attracted to Marx and continually moves around with him – at first to show everyone that she is not sticking to Henry Foster, and then simply because she wants to. She rather likes his littleness, considering it “sweet”, and deep down she is quite attracted to his unconventional opinions and behaviour, even though she is outwardly shocked.

172  The Futuristic Novels The break in her placid lifestyle comes when she meets the Savage. At first, she is drawn to him by his beautiful body, but soon falls in love with him, and changes completely. Of course, she does not realize that it is love, but the new emotion is so very unknown to her, and yet so very inspiring, that she herself is astonished at it. Love also brings with it a sadness she has never known in a society given up to pleasure; it inspires in her a totally unaccountable ability to bear pain and suffering – and that is why, rudely rejected, even beaten up sometimes by the Savage, she can still offer herself up to him, and plaintively and silently, plead for his tenderness. That is why she is a rebel. Not in the manner of Helmholtz or Marx, who consciously feel themselves to be different, but unconsciously pitting herself against the conventions of her society. Mouthing her conditioned rhymes – “When the individual feels, the community reels”—she nevertheless finds herself carried away on a wave of feeling which she is powerless to contain, and actually has no urge to contain. This unconscious reluctance to accept the life thrust on her is itself something which couples her with Marx and Helmholtz. Helmholtz knows he is different and encourages this difference. Marx knows he is different and tries his best to fight against this difference. Lenina, however, is quite unaware that she is different, and therefore finds herself giving in to her impulses. This instinctive humanistic difference from the norm is a characteristic quality of the rebel women in both Huxley’s dystopias. In Ape and Essence, there is actually only one rebel – Loola – and she shares many qualities of Lenina. In this world of horror, we hear of certain rebels called “hots” who act against the sex bar, and of how they are persecuted if caught in the act. We also hear of certain people who, if they show signs of becoming hots, are immediately absorbed into the Order of Belial after being shaven and castrated. But we meet only one person who can be termed a rebel, and that is Loola. Like Lenina, she too is unaware of her potentiality of breaking away from the norm; like Lenina, she too tries her best to reiterate the conventional stand and establish it at first. Like Lenina too, she changes under the influence of a foreigner and his love. But unlike Lenina, she shows very few signs at the beginning of being in any way different from the normal set of people around her. Most of what Dr. Poole learns of this country is told to him by Loola, and characteristically, she takes him around those spots, and shows him those conventions which are the most horrifying. When she is pulled up before the Grand Inquisitor for associating “off-season” with Dr. Poole, she is released because her conduct “has been generally satisfactory”. Yet she has scruples – unlike any of the others there. After Belial Day, and unrestrained promiscuity, Loola asks Poole – “It was fun, Alfie, wasn’t it? More fun with you than with any of the others”. Poole is unwilling to talk about it, because his moral discomfort is too great. Loola then says –

The Futuristic Novels 173 You think too much”, she says at last. “You musn’t think. If you think, it stops being fun”. The light suddenly goes out of her face. “If you think”, she goes on in a low voice, “it’s terrible, terrible. It’s a terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living Evil. When I remember what they did to Polly and her baby…. She shudders, her eyes fill with tears, and she turns away.52 Just a few words from her shows her inbuilt hatred of anything pertaining to her land. “I wish your beard didn’t have to grow”, she tells him. “You’ll look like the other fellows then. But you aren’t like them, you’re quite different”.53 This disgust had been lying dormant before Poole came on the scene, but his presence inflamed her to such an extent, that even the threat of being burnt alive if they are caught running away cannot prevent her from embracing its dangers. Dr. Poole shows her an alternative to a life dedicated to Belial – and she decides that she likes it better. Unlike the two dystopias, the rebels in the novel Island work against the mainstream method of positive development, and are as such, reactionary and negative. There is not one, but several rebels, and together they build up a force which is powerful enough to destabilize the society which has achieved so much – indeed, bringing up the nagging thought that the destructive but physically powerful forces are probably more potent in human life than the constructive life of mind and spirit. The rebels work together in a group, and indeed there is very little to differentiate them. Huxley has attempted to bring in a certain element of individuality to their characters, but they all add up to a large body of immature, boastful, foolish, blustering, superficial people who together stand against whatever Pala symbolizes – devotion, meditation, restraint, strength of mind, and love. What is to be noticed here is that the rebels in the utopia are in no way comparable to the handful of rebels in the dystopias in terms of liveliness, courage, personality, and attractiveness. There is, however, honour in rebelling against dehumanization and evil, but hardly any in rebelling against good. In Brave New World and Ape and Essence man’s better instincts rise up against the forces that have de-humanized mankind; in Pala the baser instincts become victorious. That is why there is no glory in their revolt. While the dystopias end in hope and purpose, Island ends in regret and foreboding for the future of mankind. In Pala the rebels consist of Murugan, his mother the Rani, Mr. Bahu, and Col. Dipa. The first thing that strikes us is that all of them are power-loving. Col. Dipa, the one who finally usurps Pala, is the Hitlerfigure – a person “with a purple, distorted face and at the top of a voice that he has trained, after long practice, to sound exactly like Hitler’s. Greater Rendang or Death”.54 And Ranga, Radha’s sweetheart, calls

174  The Futuristic Novels Mr. Bahu “Col. Dipa’s tame jackal” and “the unofficial ambassador of the oil-companies”. The Rani wants her son Murugan to establish himself as the Raja with the help of Col. Dipa, and wishes for the most worldly things like control over the petroleum of Pala and its industries, and exercising her authority with the help of a large army – something which Pala lacks. All the time she explains this covetousness in the most spiritual terms – of karma, of the call of her “little Voice”, and of claims like “God’s will and mine are always identical”. And in Murugan, of course, the love of power is combined with the most unbearable immaturity. He emphatically speaks of the power he will inherit at eighteen, when he will actually rule, not reign – reign constitutionally as the Rajas of Pala had done so far. “I’ll show them who’s the Boss around here”, he tells Will Farnaby; and this is how he proposes to spend his oil royalties – Twenty five per cent of all monies received will go to World Reconstruction… The remainder will go into an intensive programme of industrialization….These old idiots here only want to industrialize in spots and leave all the rest as it was a thousand years ago…. Industrialization for the country’s sake. Industrialization to make Pala strong. To make people respect us. Look at Rendang. Within five years they’ll be manufacturing all the rifles and mortars and ammunition they need….H-bombs aren’t the only absolute weapons…. Chemical and biological weapons – Col. Dipa calls them the poor man’s H-bombs. One of the first things I’ll do is to build a big insecticide plant….If you can make insecticides, you can make nerve-gas…. That’s what my policy is going to be – Continuing Revolution.55 The second feature about these rebels in Island which strikes us is their continual harping on spirituality – and Huxley takes pains to juxtapose their kind of spirituality with the true spirituality of the general Palans. Ranga, Radha’s friend, gives Will Farnaby a very good summary of what religion and metaphysics are to a Palan – “We’re Mahayanists, and our Buddhism is shot through and through with Tantra”.56 He emphasizes three important aspects of his religion – (1) Maithuna, the yoga of love, which is the “real yoga. As good as Raja yoga, or Karma yoga, or Bhakti yoga”. To him Maithuna is dhyana or contemplation. (2) Tat tvam asi – Thou art That – which is the heart of his philosophy; and (3) Buddhatvan, which he translates as “Buddhaness, Buddheity, and the quality of being enlightened”. This he connects with Maithuna, for “Buddhaness is in the yoni” – the emblem of the Eternal Feminine.57 This Oriental interpretation of spirituality is automatically contrasted with the Occidental brand through the Rani, Mr. Bahu, and Murugan – the last of whom is sent by his mother to be educated in Switzerland, because she was so shocked at the phallic education being given to young boys and girls in Pala. That is why Murugan, encouraged by his mother,

The Futuristic Novels 175 and frightened away from women, indulges in a homosexual relationship with the Great Dictator, Col. Dipa. That is why, too, his mother, the Rani, eminently worldly, covetous, greedy for wealth and power, and enamoured of western brands of usurpation, can spout certain aspects of eastern spiritualism, and get nowhere except into deeper pits of hypocrisy. And Ranga sums up Mr. Bahu’s spiritualism in these words – He goes about giving lectures about the need of a spiritual revival. He’s even published a book about it. Complete with preface by someone at the Harvard Divinity School. It’s all part of the campaign against Palanese independence. God is Dipa’s alibi. Why can’t criminals be frank about what they’re up to? All this disgusting idealistic hogwash – it makes one vomit.58 The worst culprit of adulterating Oriental mysticism with Occidental acquisitiveness is, of course, the Rani. “Nothing happens by accident”, she says. “there’s a Great Plan, and within the Great Plan innumerable little Plans. A little Plan for each and every one of us”. And her plan is dictated to her by her Little Voice, which tells her not to walk in the heat, and to go by car; a voice which tells her to bring oil magnates into Pala and sell it to the Capitalists; a voice which tells her that Farnaby’s letter to Joe Aldehyde is going to be important for her. To her, the freedom and happiness are false happiness and the wrong kind of freedom, merely because, in Mr. Bahu’s words, there are two cogent reasons – First because it simply isn’t possible for Pala to go on being different from the rest of the world. And, second, because it isn’t right that it should be different”.59 Another reason is religion. The Rani is shocked because the people of Pala do not believe in God, and only believe in Hypnotism and Pantheism and Free Love instead. Of course, she is ready to make them miserable in the hope that this will restore their faith in God. The third aspect of these people is that they all believe Pala to be morally degenerative, politically undeveloped, and militarily foolish. How far this observation is true of Col. Dipa cannot be ascertained, of course, for we see him only once, and that too from a distance. From what we hear of him from the Rani, Murugan, and Mr. Bahu, it is quite impossible that he will believe anything different from this view. Of the others, it is quite clear that what the Rani thinks, Murugan too thinks, but in a more distorted and intense form. And Mr. Bahu is a fair-weather man who will believe anything if it will serve his ends. The Rani, for instance, characteristically puts her emphasis on the spiritual aspect of Pala. Her disapproval is specially aimed at their method of devotion through Maithuna and the fact that they hold

176  The Futuristic Novels the lingam and the yoni as sacred, as per their Mahayanist-Tantric religion. To the Rani, this is profoundly impure. “There are too many bad influences here”, she says. “Forces working against Purity, against the Family, even against Mother-Love”. Their religion is against Purity; their M.A.C.-s, or Mutual Adoption Clubs, where a group of families collectively bring up the children born into them, are against the family; their method of giving practical sex education to young boys and girls who have attained puberty, is against Mother-Love – “Lessons in immorality from someone old enough to be his mother – the very idea of it had made him [Murugan] sick. No wonder. He had been brought up to reverence the Ideal of Purity”. 60 In other words, everything in Pala goes against the established Western, and hypocritically Theosophist way of thinking – and to the Rani this latter way of living is the ideal. Murugan, on the other hand, harps on the political side of this small land – especially because he has his eyes on it as the next king. When the Rani says – …no sooner was I safely out of the country than those precious guardians, to whom I had entrusted my Baby, my Only Son, set to work systematically – systematically, Mr. Farnaby – to undermine my influence. They tried to destroy the whole edifice of Moral and Spiritual values, which I had so laboriously built up over the years – 61 – she forgets that actually these “precious guardians” were unable to destroy the edifice she is speaking of, for the traditional and wrong upbringing of children that has developed in all societies for hundreds of years, cannot be destroyed in one century in Pala. That is why Murugan is far more attracted to the violent, selfish perversion of the modern world, than to the self-effacing, non-violent, brahmacharya of Pala. And because his mother prefers to give her son up to the loving mercies of Col. Dipa, whose influence she believes, is far more positive, he has grown up to believe that he will never reign in Pala, he will rule. Pala is not modernized; he will make it so. Pala has never used her oil for international profit; he will soon rectify this sorry state of affairs. Pala does not even have bombs and a standing army; the very thought is shocking to him. All the elements of money and power are lacking here, and Murugan is attracted to all of them. Mr. Bahu takes a historical perspective. He agrees that the original idea of turning Pala into “an oasis of freedom and happiness” has succeeded, but he believes that such a society was viable only till 1905, before modernization set in. Now, with the tremendous progress made in the sphere of communication – “movies, cars, aeroplanes, radio” – and also mass-production, mass-slaughter, mass-communication, and, above all, plain mass” – he believes that there is nothing to stop the

The Futuristic Novels 177 outside world from “closing in on this little island of freedom and happiness”.61 Therefore, what was once a viable ideal, is no longer viable, and Pala will have to be changed radically to suit the demands of the rest of the world. What is remarkable about the attitude of these “rebels” towards Pala is that most of the time they actually believe that their world is right and Pala is wrong – “false happiness and wrong kind of freedom”. In this respect, like the rebels of Brave New World and Ape and Essence, they are true representatives of the Present – the twentieth-century world. Only, in the previous two novels, the rebels represent the positive side of humanity, and the picture of the Future that Huxley presents is a warning of what might be if the world moves towards its own destruction as it is bent on doing. The rebels there are the signs of Hope. In Island, however, the rebels represent exactly those features of mankind which will take humanity to its doom – a doom which is inevitable, just as the usurpation of “the oasis of freedom and happiness” is inevitable. Here, therefore, the rebels are pig-headed, wrong-thinking, and greedy; but for all this they become the winners, because they are the majority – not in Pala, but in the world at large, of which Pala is only a miniscule part. There is a lesson to learn from this, but mankind is yet too blind to learn it. This black vision is the one with which Huxley ends his career as a novelist, for after this there can be no other story of mankind. Huxley has said it all.

Notes 1 Joanne Woiak, Designing a Brave New World : Eugenics, Politics, and Fiction (The Public Historian, Vol. 29, No. 3, Summer 2007, University of California Press), p. 105. 2 Aldous Huxley, Brave New World (London, Chatto & Windus, 1952), pp. 182–183. 3 Aldous Huxley, Crome Yellow (London, Chatto & Windus, 1952), p. 164. 4 Aldous Huxley, Ends and Means (London, Chatto & Windus, 1957), pp. 31–32. 5 Ibid, pp. 3–4. 6 Ibid, p. 9. 7 Huxley, Brave New World, p. 32. 8 Ibid, p. 180. 9 Ibid. 10 Aldous Huxley, Island (Suffolk, Triad Panther Books, 1976), pp. 42–43. 11 Ibid, p. 164. 12 Ibid, p. 243. 13 Huxley, Brave New World, pp. 95–96. 14 Ibid. 15 Ibid, pp. 98, 100. 16 Ibid, p. 188. 17 Ibid, p. 211. 18 Aldous Huxley, Ape and Essence (N.Y., Bantam Modern Classics, 1968), p. 60.

178  The Futuristic Novels

19 Ibid, pp. 56, 58. 20 Huxley, Ends and Means, pp. 301–302. 21 Huxley, Island, p. 335. 22 Ibid, p. 294. 23 Ibid, p. 31. 24 Ibid, p. 70. 25 Ibid, p. 98. 26 Ibid, p. 335. 27 Ibid, p. 330. 28 Ibid, p. 100. 29 Ibid, p. 104. 30 Ibid, p. 80. 31 Ibid, p. 179. 32 Ibid, p. 186. 33 Ibid. 34 Huxley, Ape and Essence, pp. 27–28. 35 Ibid, pp. 125–126. 36 Ibid, p. 77. 37 Ibid, p. 78. 38 Ibid, p. 88. 39 Ibid, pp. 137–138. 40 Huxley, Brave New World, p. 56. 41 Ibid, pp. 57–58. 42 Ibid, p. 57. 43 Ibid, pp. 147–148. 44 S.T. Coleridge, Kubla Khan, lines 49–54. 45 Peter Firchow, The End of Utopia – a Study of Aldous Huxley’s ‘Brave New World’ (New York, Associated University Press, 1984), p. 65. 46 Huxley, Brave New World, p. 149. 47 Ibid, pp. 70–71. 48 Ibid, p. 74. 49 Ibid, p. 75. 50 Ibid, p. 175. 51 Ibid, p. 185. 52 Ibid, p. 119. 53 Ibid, p. 119. 54 Huxley, Island, p. 127. 55 Ibid, pp. 51–52. 56 Ibid, p. 86. 57 Ibid, p. 58. 58 Ibid, p. 83. 59 Ibid, p.66. 60 Ibid, p. 63. 61 Ibid, p. 66.

5

Huxley’s World View and His Characters

Huxley’s was a great mind, and behind all the “monsters” that he has created, is a distinct world view which gains in clarity and depth as the novels progress. Behind everything too, there is an unerring purpose – to cleanse the world and improve it – A little ruthless laughter clears the air as nothing else can do; it is good for us, every now and then, to see our ideals laughed at, our conception of nobility caricatured; it is good for solemnity’s nose to be tweaked, it is good for human pomposity to be made to look mean and ridiculous. It should be the great social function – as Marinetti has pointed out – of the music halls, to provide this cruel and unsparing laughter, to make a buffoonery of all the solemnly accepted grandeurs and nobilities. A good dose of this mockery, administered twice a year at the equinoxes, should purge our minds of much waste matter, make nimble our spirits and brighten the eye to look more clearly and truthfully on the world about us.1 That is why he reserves so much praise for Ben Jonson and Chaucer and has serious reservations about the Romantics, who repudiate artistic purpose, and have a one-sided view of things – “Personally I have no great liking for either of the Romanticisms” [the Old humanist kind, and the New dehumanized, mechanical kind]2 This avowed expression of artistic purpose is part and parcel of all Huxley’s novels, and the form which he chooses – the Novel of Ideas – is eminently suited to this aim. The conversation-novel cannot be anti-­ didactic – this is a contradiction in terms. Various points of view are put forward, weighed together, until a final conclusion is reached, and in all cases this final conclusion marks the author’s own opinion. Whatever development or change we find chronologically through the novels is that Huxley’s point of view shifts as he grows older; the arguments in Crome Yellow are very different from those he tries to make in Island. Two decades have made a lot of difference in his opinions and preferences, DOI: 10.4324/9781003276388-5

180  Huxley’s World View and His Characters and every change is decipherable in his novels. One obvious change is, of course, the range of his outlook: it is limited to the shallow meaninglessness of upper-class life in the twenties in the novels up to Point Counter Point; by the time he writes Eyeless in Gaza his themes become more broadened to encompass a whole interpretation of life, and also a comparative study of conflicting interpretations. His last phase shows him becoming more concerned with the future in the light of the present. Being primarily a didactic writer, Huxley has had to face plenty of criticism from the upholders of the “art for art’s sake” dictum. This is criticism we need not pay much heed to, because, as I have already maintained in Chapter I, the value of a writer should be judged by his aims and purposes, and how far he has been able to attain them – not by any personal standards of the critic or reader. What, however, is more relevant here, is Bakhtin’s analysis of “monologic” and “dialogic” novels, and how far this can be used in the case of Huxley, for Huxley’s novels are dialogue-oriented, not action- or incident-oriented. According to this analysis, Huxley’s novels are primarily monologic, and though there is a strong argument in University circles to consider him as carnivalesque, I strongly disagree. In fact, I would also like to maintain that Rolland Barthes’s theories of the Death of the Author should not be attempted to be established where Huxley’s novels are concerned – and after all is said and done, Huxley still remains a great artist and a leading thinker. The great variety that Huxley offers in his characterization may give the impression of a carnivalization, especially in the futuristic novels like Brave New World or Ape and Essence, where logic is stood on its head, and reality is interpreted in a wholly new way altogether. Carnivals have always been symbolic of the disruption and subversion of authority, and an inversion of the hierarchical scale. No doubt that is what Huxley is aiming for. Such inversion, though less conspicuous, is also evident in novels like Eyeless in Gaza or After Many a Summer, where the irony of subverted ideologies and inverted purposes is very potent. In After Many a Summer, especially, the theory of evolution, for one, is tackled with great irony; and prolonged life, instead of taking man further on the path of intellectual progress, is shown, instead, to take him backward towards the apes. Moreover, this immense variety of character types adds to this sense of the carnivalesque. We, however, even in the face of such literary claims, cannot accept Huxley’s novels as carnivalesque for the simple reason that we use the word as Bakhtin used it, and not according to individual interpretations. Bakhtin first uses the word in the book, The Dialogic Imagination 3, as a term defining the effects of carnival on language and literature. In Problems of Dostoevski’s Poetics, he uses the term in reference to the works of Tolstoy and Dostoevski, and extends its meaning to include the concepts of “monologic” and

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 181 “dialogic” or “polyphonic”. The polyphonic novel, in the type of those Dostoevski, is an intricate fabric of what he calls “different voices” – that is, of characters who are given the freedom of expression and action, and who may develop in their own individual directions without authorial intervention. The monologic novel of the type of Tolstoy is also filled with different characters, but there is always the author in the background, expressing a silent comment on their actions and beliefs. There is not a single novel of Huxley in which the author is totally absent. In many he is there in person – in characters like Quarles or Anthony Beavis, or partly, Chelifer. In the others, there is an indirect comment or conclusion drawn from the given situation. For instance, Brave New World shows, theoretically, an ideal situation or society, where there is total stability, total peace, and total satisfaction. It is the background irony directed by the author which helps the reader to interpret the novel for what it really is – a comment on the present, and what this present is likely to lead us to, given the prevalent direction of progress. Likewise, in Antic Hay, an early novel, there is no autobiographical character as such, but this potent irony is the directing force, leading the reader onto the author’s interpretation of life – if not to agree with him, at least to know and understand his scheme of things. There is thus a distancing effect in both the author and the reader, from the incidents the novel is portraying, for they are both in a position not of identifying with the characters, but of judging them. Barthes’s essay, The Death of the Author, therefore, should be read more in connection with dialogic or polyphonic texts, where there is a wide scope for reader interference, than in connection with monologic texts, where an ignoring of the authorial voice is paramount to denying the one premise from which all other interpretations flow. Even Bakhtin does not deny the role of the author as the directing agent in polyphonic novels, and this is particularly true in the case of Huxley. One important point must be kept in mind. The words “monologic” and “dialogic” should not be interpreted as an assessment of artistic value, but of artistic type only. The monologic novels are not inferior to the dialogic merely because the authorial voice is not kept in abeyance. As such, Tolstoy is not inferior to Dostoevski; he is only different. Huxley, likewise, is not inferior to the psychological novelists, and should be judged for what he is, not for what he should be. There is in Huxley, however, an illusion of polyphony which is primarily a result of the innumerable points of view which appear in his novels. Over and above them is a clear artistic purpose which is resolved only when the novel is nearing its end. Huxley’s world view does not change; his point of view shifts, and his characters are the primary means of expressing this view. The characters, therefore, become all-important in the novels.

182  Huxley’s World View and His Characters For our purposes, in our discussion of the world view, we may divide his novels into three periods, which illustrate development of his ideas. The first shows a thorough assessment of the philosophy of meaninglessness, and its effects on modern society. The novels here are primarily conversation-novels devoted to discussing various aspects of modern upper-class life, which add up to that philosophy – Crome Yellow, Those Barren Leaves, Antic Hay, and Point Counter Point. The second period shows a distinct trend from a limited upper-class range towards a philosophy which can embrace the whole of humanity. Of course, this trend is incomplete. Of course, the limits are still there. But these limits are slowly fading. Eyeless in Gaza is the acme here, with After Many a Summer and Time Must Have a Stop in tow. In many ways, this period shows Huxley at his best, for whereas the first portrayed a situation without attempting an alternative, this period shows both the situation and the alternative. The final period places emphasis on the alternative only – good or bad. That is why it again reverts to a limited viewpoint. The best product here is of course, Brave New World, and the others are Ape and Essence and Island. There is also a detectable development of character types in the three phases, which shall be discussed according to the period in question. The development of character is in direct co-ordination with the development of Huxley’s philosophy of life, of which the characters are the sole illustration. Along with the development of character, therefore, the world view of Aldous Huxley will also form an important part of the discussion, because Huxley’s philosophy is deeply entrenched into the texture of his novels, and his characters become the vehicle for its expression. Half the significance of the characters is lost without an analysis of the driving force behind them – his interpretation of life.

The Philosophy of Meaninglessness The philosophy of meaninglessness has already been defined in detail at the beginning of Chapter II, in the course of the discussion on Point Counter Point. Suffice it here to say that the term was used Huxley not as a definition of a prevalent world-view, but as an ironic comment on the futility of the pleasure hunting indulged in by moneyed people as the be-all and end-all of existence. The emphasis here is on the incompleteness of character, of life, and of purpose in this class of people. The characters created at this stage of Huxley’s writing do not amount to a criticism of life as a whole; instead they stick to being a living comment on life in a certain section of society. As such, they correspond more to social types than to illustrations of philosophical and sociological principles, as we increasingly find in the later novels. The novels which use characters like this are Crome Yellow, Those Barren Leaves, and Antic Hay; and Point Counter Point, though placed in this group, may also be

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 183 regarded as the novel of transition, showing many of those traits which appear later in the second group of novels. The broad types that we find here are as follows: – 1 2 3 4

The Complete Man, The Siren Female, The Mephistopheles Figure, The Guru.

There are several other minor types that together add up to a total picture of a superficial society, rich in worldly means of pleasure, yet spiritually and emotionally lacking. But the overall atmosphere is by and large dependent on these four character types. Nor should it be understood that these types do not occur in the later novels: every one of them does, and in almost all the novels, in some way or the other. But these are the characters who are born in the first phase itself and form the base on which Huxley’s later philosophy of life is superstructured. One other point must be made about these recurring type characters – characters which, for ambiguous reasons, are abhorred by most critics and compared relentlessly with the Stephen Dedaluses and the Elizabeth Bennetts, and Eustacia Vyes of the world. Yet it must be remembered that even in a Conrad or a Forster or a Lawrence, a handful of characters stand out as total human beings; the rest are, if I may quote Forster, “as flat as gramophone records”. The entire gamut of literature, in any country or language, is primarily made up of flat or type characters, with a very small percentage of really rounded human beings thrown in for special attention. In the novel of ideas, the characters are necessarily built on certain types to facilitate the illustration of the ideas in question. As soon as characters are rounded – such as Helen in Eyeless in Gaza or Elinor in Point Counter Point – the novel ceases to be the strict novel of ideas type. This is exactly what we find in the later Huxleyan fiction. Crome Yellow is probably the only novel totally based on the classical Peacockian mode. The others are increasingly built according to a quite new and individual Huxleyan type, where the main purpose is to define certain ideas, no doubt, but now in combination with a certain amount of action and a strong philosophy of life. The only other novel which returns to the original conversation-novel type is the last one – Island. The character types which recur in the novels, therefore, are not fixed either. We identify certain broad types like the “Complete Man” and the “Siren Female”, but in each novel and in a different situation, these types vary, thus making a Myra Viveash very different from a Lucy Tantamount, or a Walter Bidlake from a Gumbril Jr. When we bunch a number of characters into a certain category, we are therefore identifying certain general traits which are similar in all of them, and overlooking the individual characteristics which provide the more interesting variations.

184  Huxley’s World View and His Characters The Complete Man This tongue-in-cheek term is actually used in Antic Hay in connection with the protagonist, Gumbril Jr. The Complete Man of one’s dreams, to which Gumbril aspires, is a “great eater, deep drinker, stout fighter, prodigious lover; clear thinker, creator of beauty, seeker of truth and prophet of heroic grandeurs. Fitted out with coat and beard, he could qualify for the next vacancy among the cenobites of Thelema”.4 Gumbril supplies himself with a fan-shaped beard and loose, light, great coat, and becomes such a man – “One last look at the Complete Man, one final and definitive constatation that the Mild and Melancholy one was, for the time at least, no more; and he was ready in all confidence to set out”.5 At every step after setting out, his natural reactions to ordinary situations have to be consciously modified to allow the more confident, dominating reactions of the Complete Man to take their place. For instance, he meets a slender, attractive, and totally unknown woman on the road. Being naturally the Mild and Melancholy Man, his first instinct is to watch her silently, and then walk away – That was what the Mild and Melancholy one would have done. But the sight, as he gazed earnestly into an antiquary’s window, of his own powerful bearded face reflected in a sham Heppelwhite mirror, reminded him that the Mild and Melancholy one was temporarily extinct, and that it was the Complete Man who now dawdled, smoking his long cigar, up the Queen’s road towards the Abbey of Thelema.6 So, when his eyes meet hers in this mirror, he breaks his silence – “If you want to say Beaver, you may”. So the Complete Man makes his acquaintance, overcomes her first reluctance, takes her to a park, and then to her home, finally carrying her over the threshold. He has tea with her, and chocolate cake, and then finds his acquired image running out of steam – There was a long silence. Gumbril finished his chocolate cake, gloomily drank his tea and did not speak. He found, all at once, that he had nothing to say. His jovial confidence seemed, for the moment, to have deserted him. He was only the Mild and Melancholy one foolishly disguised as the Complete Man; a sheep in beaver’s clothing.7 Ashamed of himself, he shakes out of his Mild and Melancholy character, and kisses her before going out, promising to write to her later. The absurdity of the whole exercise is brought out almost immediately. Asking for her address, he discovers that she is the wife of a well-known friend, James Shearwater. His reaction is not at all that of a Complete Man –

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 185 Mrs. James Shear –. Step by step he descended ponderously. “Good Lord”, he said out loud. “Good Lord”. But why had he never seen her? Why did Shearwater never produce her? Now he came to think of it, he hardly ever spoke of her.8 Added to this, he meets the husband himself while coming down the stairs, and his first instinct is to run and hide. But, of course, he realizes that he is unrecognizable in the beard and coat of the Complete Man. He is a Complete Man, and Complete Men do not hide. The ultimate significance of this disguise is made apparent later. Rosie, the woman involved, becomes quite enamoured of and impressed with the Complete Man. But this Man now much rather prefers to be Mild and Melancholy in the company of Emily. So she decides to find him herself, and in her search, she mistakes Coleman, the diabolist, for Gumbril, and is seduced by him in a fit of horrifying and disgusting humour. It is the fanshaped beard which both makes Gumbril the Complete Man and becomes the cause for him to be mistaken for Coleman. The question, therefore, arises whether there is not a subtle link between the character which he dons and that of the horrible, nauseating Coleman. And all said and done, the only woman whom he really feels for – Emily – has no liking for his alter-ego, the Complete Man. She likes him as Mild and Melancholy, which, incidentally, is his natural character. It is certainly very difficult to remain natural in a society ruled by the philosophy of meaninglessness, but it is quite absurd and ridiculous to try to be what one is not. The character of the Complete Man, therefore, is the character of every ordinary, educated, well-placed young man in modern society – a man who still has his scruples, believes in certain traditional values, feels timid in the face of unforeseen circumstances, is more dominated than dominating – and, in a word, an anti-hero who aspires to be a hero. And this hero, the Complete Man, is everything that he is not – domineering rather than merely dominating, tough, smart, getting his own way, witty and entertaining, and reckless in love. It is the gulf between the ordinary but lovable reality, and the extraordinary and awesome dream. More often than not, the dream comes crashing around his ears, as it happens to Gumbril Jr. In the process of fitting into the role of the Complete Man, he loses his one and only love, the only one capable of bringing any meaning into his life. The attempt to become such a dream is one of the ridiculous features of the modern man, and Huxley’s portrayal in Antic Hay brings it out to the full. However, this character is not restricted to the pages of Antic Hay alone; he is there in all the early novels up to Point Counter Point, and with modifications in the later ones. In this respect, the term becomes a symbolic one, not to be limited to the figure of Gumbril Jr. alone. In Crome Yellow, Denis Stone is one such figure, and I personally can find

186  Huxley’s World View and His Characters very few differences between the two. Both are of the Mild and Melancholy type, and therefore lovable in their own way; both are idealistic and romantic-minded; and both are more comfortable while writing than while talking. Yet, both are dissatisfied with being natural and ordinary, and aspire to be what they are not – making themselves ridiculous in the process. Denis, for example, pictures himself as a man of action – “A bicycle, a bicycle!” He said breathlessly to the guard. He felt himself to be a man of action. The guard paid no attention, but continued methodically to hand out, one by one, the packages labelled to Camlet. “A bicycle!” Denis repeated. “A green machine, crossframed, name of Stone. S.T.O.N.E”. “All in good time, sir”, said the guard soothingly….It was in that tone that he must have spoken to his children when they were tiresome. “All in good time, sir”. Denis’s man of action collapsed, punctured.9 Actually, everywhere he goes, his resolution and confidence are punctured, and he ends up being the same charming, “sweet” Denis – a Denis which he himself thoroughly dislikes. Rather, his whole life is devoted to living up to an idea, which he finally realizes, is beyond his actual character – He went on walking up and down. His voice rose, fell, was silent a moment, and then talked on. He moved his hands, sometimes he waved his arms. Anne looked and listened quietly, as though she were at a lecture. He was a nice boy, and today he looked charming – charming! One entered the world, Denis pursued, having ready-made ideas about everything. One had a philosophy and tried to make life fit into it. One should have lived first and then made one’s philosophy to fit life….Life, facts, things were horribly complicated; ideas, even the most difficult of them, deceptively simple. In the world of ideas everything was clear; in life all was obscure, embroiled. Was it surprising that one was miserable, horribly unhappy? Denis came to a halt in front of the bench, and as he asked this last question he stretched out his arms and stood for an instant in an attitude of crucifixion, then let them fall again to his sides. “My poor Denis!” Anne was touched.10 The qualities which the natural Mild and Melancholy Man possesses are actually rare and valuable, especially in the modern aimless, shallow atmosphere. The tragedy is that a Gumbril or a Denis does not realize the value of these qualities; rather, innocence, love of natural beauty, a talent for written expression corresponding to a certain shyness in

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 187 speech, and a purity and naturalness in reaction, are faults which must be remedied immediately. It is the same with Lord Hovenden, one of the lesser characters of Those Barren Leaves, who is shy and diffident, and cannot gather courage enough to propose to Irene, Mrs. Aldwinkle’s niece. His way of becoming the Complete Man is to drive a car – Lord Hovenden detached from his motor car was an entirely different being from the Lord Hovenden who lounged behind the steering wheel of a Vauxhall Velox. Half an hour spent in the roaring wind of his own speed transformed him from a shy and diffident boy into a cool-headed hero, daring not merely in affairs of the road, but in the affairs of life as well. The fierce wind blew away his diffidence; the speed intoxicated him out of his self-consciousness. All his victories had been won while he was in the car.11 The only problem is that, the moment he descends from his Velox, he becomes the sheepish character once again, and cannot imagine how he had brought himself to do such horrifying things. For instance, once, while driving at break-neck speed, he had even promised a friend to make a speech at a meeting – only to regret it heartily when the car stopped. And that is exactly how he makes Irene agree to marry him. What is important here is the fact that just as Gumbril needs a fanshaped beard and a grey coat to make up the Complete Man image, so Hovenden needs a Vauxhall Velox for the same purpose. Of course, there are the anti-heroes in the other two novels who are not quite so lovable as Gumbril or Denis, but share the same feature of attempting to become dominating and confident quite beyond their natural inclinations. Walter Bidlake, for instance, is far less imposing or impressive than his well-known artist father, and actually seems very spineless and lacking in personality. Sometimes we do feel that he could do with some self-confidence and self-respect. His own father is contemptuous of him, and he is not much entertained by the lady whom he pursues – Lucy Tantamount, who treats him more as a pet dog than a devoted lover. However, he is respected by her only when he loses his temper and almost rapes her into submission. This is more in keeping with Gumbril’s idea of a Complete Man. The Complete Man, created in the early novels to illustrate the philosophy of meaninglessness, finds fit descendants in the later novels too, though the characters there are not quite the same. For instance, Anthony Beavis, the protagonist of Eyeless in Gaza, models himself on the Complete Man image, perpetually attempting to portray himself as the hard, tough, confident He-man – and making himself miserable in the process (a detailed discussion is given in Chapter III). Bernard Marx of Brave New World, though a different kind of character, is of a

188  Huxley’s World View and His Characters similar nature, for being born with an inferiority complex and a “Deltaminus physique”, he all the more tries to attract attention and respect. Murugan in Island is the Raja designate, but lacks both the character and the ability to become a true king; so he attempts his strength and power through weapons and powerful accomplices like Col. Dipa. The fact remains that the Complete Man image is one of the basic ideals running through modern society. No matter that it is hollow and shallow – that is the image after which the educated intellectual aspires. It is also a fact that even at the beginning of the twenty-first century, almost sixty years after Huxley’s death, we have been unable to shake off this ideal from our consciousness – witness the popularity of comic-book characters like Phantom and Batman and Spiderman, and childhood ideals like Tarzan and Sherlock Holmes, we may smile at Denis Stone and Gumbril Jr., but it is no consolation to find that, like Prufrock, we are ultimately stewing in the same hell. The Siren Female and Her Counterpart The other frontline character types used to illustrate the philosophy of meaninglessness are the woman characters – primarily the worldly, sophisticated type, whose one and only profession seems to be to ensnare men for their pleasure. In a rich social milieu this kind of woman is easily recognizable, because she is so numerous. The femininity of such women is restricted to their physical attributes, and their power of exciting physical pleasure. Added to this is their intense love of luxury and comfort, along with a dislike of manual labour and intellectual and spiritual exploration. In every way this woman becomes emblematic of the rock and roll life of the idle rich, where femininity becomes synonymous with desire and pleasure, not with dependence and motherhood. The conceptual treatment of such a woman begins in Crome Yellow in the form of Anne, who, however worldly, confident, and lazy she may be, is nevertheless not unlikable, because she does not seem quite so hard and ruthless in her love affairs as some of the later creations of Huxley. Rather, compared to some of the other women in Crome Yellow, like the too-earnest and too-innocent Mary; or the “gay and gadding” Old Priscilla, who is now dallying with New Thought and the Occult; or the mysteriously silent Jenny, who keeps an enigmatic scrap-book in which she sketches very unflattering pictures of the people around her, Anne’s common-sense, down-to-earth worldliness seems quite refreshing. This also brings us to the other side of the question – the alternative to the Siren character – the childish innocence, or the acquired spirituality portrayed in the other women, which seems just as artificial and insincere. Clearly, these qualities cannot flourish in the social condition which forms the background of Huxley’s fiction natural behaviour and natural responses are as alien to the modern urban woman as to the Complete Man

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 189 The character of the Siren Female actually matures in Antic Hay in Myra Viveash. She is beautiful, she is rich, she is desirable, she is bored, she is confident, and she is casual. She is desired by Gumbril, by Lypiatt, by Shearwater, and by Mercaptan – without, of course, her feeling anything serious for any of them. She is perpetually bored, and doing everything in her power to prevent herself from being so – and after all, boredom is literally the rich man’s malady. She cannot bear to be left alone for fear of boredom, and she always goes to bed only when she has reached “that ultimate point of fatigue at which she did at last feel ready for repose”.12 Her whole aim in life seems to be to overcome loneliness, and to her there is nothing in life as important as this. She will simply not listen when Gumbril insists that he has to catch a train at two o’clock to meet someone (Emily) – to her mind, a sordid pick-up, who she cannot imagine, is anywhere as important as she herself is. In the process, it does not matter to her in the least if a true relationship is adversely affected. However, Myra Viveash cannot come anywhere near Lucy Tantamount or Mary Amberley as an epitome of the hard, self-centred, superficial, pleasure-loving, society woman, because of one individual trait of character – her memory of dead love – But today, when it came to the point, she hated her liberty. To come out like this at one o’clock into a vacuum – it was absurd, it was appalling. The prospect of immeasurable boredom opened before her. Steppes after steppes of ennui, horizon beyond horizon, for ever the same. ….She remembered suddenly one shining day like this in the summer of 1917, when she had walked along this same street, slowly like this, on the sunny side with Tony Lamb. All that day, that night, it had been one long goodbye. He was going back the next morning. Less than a week later he was dead. Never again, never again: there had been a time when she could make herself cry, simply by saying those two words once or twice, under her breath. Never again, never again. She repeated them softly now. But she felt no tears behind her eyes. Grief doesn’t kill, love doesn’t kill; but time kills everything, kills desire, kills sorrow, kills in the end the mind that feels them; wrinkles and softens the body while it still lives, rots it like a medlar, kills it too at last. Never again, never again. Instead of crying, she laughed, laughed aloud.13 This brings in an element of causality into Mrs. Viveash’s behaviour; somehow we cannot judge her as we do some of Huxley’s other women. Also, even though her whole existence is meaningless, there is a certain background, a reason behind this meaninglessness. Of course, no one has the right to spread the philosophy of meaninglessness just because one’s own life has met with a tragedy. Yet, Myra Viveash stands out as someone different, not to be coupled with everyone else indiscriminately.

190  Huxley’s World View and His Characters The same cannot be said of Lucy Tantamount or Mary Amberley, both of whom have been treated in detail in Chapters II and III. They are the representative products of the philosophy which Huxley condemns as underlying upper-class urban society, for their hedonism is inherited, not acquired, as Myra Viveash’s is. There is, however, one major difference between them, and this difference primarily rests on the fact that Mary Amberley belongs to a later phase of Huxley’s work – specifically, the second phase, as has been earlier clarified. Lucy Tantmount is actually the culmination of Huxley’s treatment of woman as the proprietor of the philosophy of meaninglessness, because she is portrayed as the natural outcome of the social parameters defined by the author. She therefore does not face the consequences of her way of life. The novels after Point Counter Point increasingly attempt to portray an alternative philosophy to the all-pervading philosophy of meaninglessness, and that is why an element of judgement comes in. It is because of this that Mary Amberley has to suffer in later life for the irresponsible hedonism that she has indulged in during her youth. That is why, too, Virginia in After Many a Summer cannot be strait-jacketed into the set pattern, even though Veronica (Time Must Have a Stop) can up to a certain extent, be compared to Anne in Crome Yellow. Both are hedonistic, but Virginia has a certain innocence which Veronica lacks. We can rather identify Lucy Tantamount and Mary Amberley as the quintessence of their kind and regard the other women as pale variations. The symbolic peak of the type exemplified by Lucy is, however, attained in the women of the World State in Brave New World – the future incarnations of the Lucy Tantamounts of life. Here the love of pleasure is transformed into a fundamental right; not merely a right, but a law. Anyone not pursuing pleasure is termed a heretic and an anti-social. Pleasure, of course, means the ultimate in physical satisfaction, be it in dress, or living comfort, or sex. The concept of attachment, and of a lasting relationship is eradicated, and the dearest wish of many upperclass ladies and gentlemen of the twentieth century – that of free mixing in the true sense – is fulfilled to the extent of a new partner every hour of the day. Most of all, the one drawback of womanhood – the problem of being a mother – is solved once and for all, since motherhood implies responsibility, attachment, and a certain amount of pain and worry. Women in the World State no longer have to worry about this tremendous disadvantage, because Hatcheries and Incubation centres do all their work, so that they are enabled to continue living their life of endless pleasure and physical satisfaction. So much so, that the word “mother” becomes a term of abuse. This, of course, is nothing to be scandalized about, given the modern twentieth century woman’s aversion to being a mother. *   *   *

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 191 This, indeed, is a picture of the ultimate, the Ideal. When we return to the first phase of Huxley’s writing, we notice that apart from what we term the Siren Female, we also have two other woman character types – both of which are used to illustrate the same philosophy. The first is a variation of the Siren type – the aged woman who cannot come to terms with her age. This type, too, is quite common in the novels, being another very potent means of conveying the impression of decadence and futility in present-day society. In all the cases without exception, the woman is a rich lady, who has built herself a mansion in which she invites young, talented people, especially men, for her entertainment and pleasure. After all, in the dictionary of her life, beauty and pleasure go hand in hand; so a loss of the former automatically implies a loss of the latter. What results is a pathetic attempt to hold on to what she has lost. The best study of such a woman is Mrs. Aldwinkle of Those Barren Leaves, who has built the huge, sprawling, Cybo Malaspina for her pleasure. The once beautiful Lilian Aldwinkle’s face is now “paunchy and crow-footed” with “a couple of horizontal wrinkles across the broad forehead”, and “sagging cheeks”. Yet she still has her ways of attracting men – “For Mrs. Aldwinkle was an impressionist; it was the effect at a distance, the grand theatrical flourish that interested her. She had no patience, even at the dressing table, for niggling pre-Raphaelite detail”.14 In fact, the mansion itself – Cybo Malaspina – is symbolic of Mrs. Aldwinkle herself, for it is shown to be a well-planned amalgamation of the ancient and the modern with expensive artefacts embellishing it, serving the same purpose as its mistress’s numerous jewels. Mrs. Aldwinkle’s great ambition is to see herself “unofficially a princess, surrounded by a court of poets, philosophers and artists”.15 Needless to say, this is also the dearest wish of most of the society ladies of modern times: it is a way of gaining social respect. Love is also a sure sign that age has not really touched her; it underlines her youth. So she makes it a point to fall in love with Calamy, and rescues Chelifer, acting the saviour maiden for a knight in distress. Indeed, apart from the ridiculous aspect of it all, the very real pathos behind it cannot be ignored. This poor woman regards beauty and pleasure as the be-all and end-all of life; so a loss of youth automatically leads her to clutch at it desperately, before she sinks down into a vacuum of nothingness. Indeed, this is exactly what the philosophy of meaninglessness will lead one into. Several other women anticipate or echo Mrs. Aldwinkle in the first of Huxley’s novels. Old Priscilla in the very first novel, Crome Yellow, has come to the end of her “gay and gadding existence” – “Nowadays she spent almost all her time at Crome, cultivating a rather peculiar malady. For consolation she dallied with New Thought and the Occult. Her passion for racing still possessed her, and Henry, who was a kind-hearted fellow at bottom, allowed forty pounds a month betting money”.16 Crome – again a sprawling mansion set on top of a hill, is Old Priscilla’s

192  Huxley’s World View and His Characters Cybo Malaspina, the meeting spot of all kinds of people who believe themselves artists of some kind. In Point Counter Point Lady Tantamount is not quite so much of an extreme as Mrs. Aldwinkle is, and there is nothing in the novel to show her as one who is suffering from the desperation of lost youth. But the very fact that her whole world is contained in the mansion called Tantamount House and that all her pleasure still lies in endless parties and dancing and social mixing, is enough proof of her philosophical outlook and its inevitable consequence. In the later novels, especially in the second phase of Huxley’s work, there are minor variations in the theme of the Siren Female in Old Age. For instance, in After Many a Summer the large castle-on-top-of-thehill is there in Stoyte Castle – the “nightmare”, as Jeremy Pordage terms it. And the owner now is a man, not a woman – Jo Stoyte, who keeps a woman in the castle with him, a woman not so much past her teens; his huge wealth is ear-marked for the research of old age and how to combat it in order to prolong it indefinitely. The consequence of this research is not the subject at present; it will be discussed in the analysis of the second phase of Huxley’s writing. What is relevant here is this inability to come to terms with old age, and the ridiculous attempts to clutch at youth and vitality. The second character-type connected with the Siren Female is the contrast, the foil to this kind of woman and this concept of womanhood – the innocent, faithful type, to whom the word “love” is not meaningless, and who would rather opt for the simple pleasures of natural surroundings and the company of the beloved, rather than the glitz of parties and sophisticated men. These women are rare in the world of Huxley, but they are nevertheless there, their presence becoming important in emphasizing the contrast between make-up and natural beauty, between the transience of youth and the permanence of motherhood, and the sincerity of and the illusion of a purely physical relationship. In a word, the very rarity of such women is a peremptory assertion of the necessity of awareness of the hollowness, the foolishness, and the aimlessness of the life that is led in the most affluent and the most educated circles. It is also significant that such women rarely become happy in Huxley’s world; if they had done, it would have been a romanticized utopia. In the social conditions of the bourgeoisie, true love relationships and real virtue can only fester and disintegrate. That is why Emily in Antic Hay and Rachel Quarles in Point Counter Point have to suffer. They are too virtuous to make good in such a society. The Mephistopheles “Villain” is too melodramatic a term to describe the degeneracy exposed in characters like Coleman or Spandrell, and later too in Dr. Obispo, and Murugan. Mark Staithes is also sometimes coupled with them, but

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 193 that is extending the character type to beyond permissible limits. The character of Spandrell has been discussed in detail in Chapter II, and it has also been shown how he is rather an exception to this concept of the totally degenerate. Yes, he is degenerate; he is a lover of the ugly, the evil, and the base; he is a destroyer of everything good, beautiful, and innocent; and he consciously fights his better instincts in order to allow the uglier side to reign supreme. Yet, like Myra Viveash, he is given a cause for the total destruction of his soul, and the better side of his personality is often brought out to show what he is fighting so intently. Often he is shown as a man with a genuine conflict, and though we are unable to like him, we are certainly sorry for him by the time the novel ends. The bottom line of degeneration is, without doubt, Coleman. He becomes the yardstick by which all the other Huxleyan Mephistophelean figures must be judged. His baseness seems worse because he professes to imitate Christ, and sports a fan-shaped beard in the process – Christlike is my behaviour, Like every good believer, I imitate the saviour, And cultivate a beaver.17 After all, to him, “plain Dog, which, being interpreted kabbalistically backwards, signifies God”.18 Of all man’s physical attributes, he believes that the viscera and the kidneys are of supreme importance. His dearest ambition is to lead all humanity into a ditch – “Ah, if only there were a ditch, a crevasse, a great hole full of stinging centipedes and dung. How gleefully I should lead you all into it!”19 He marries Zoe because they hate each other intensely, and because he can perpetually be at the receiving end of her hatred – literally, be jabbed at by forks, slashed at with knives, and abused every minute of the day. Rosie Shearwater has a taste of the extent of his debasement when she visits him at his house, mistaking him for Gumbril Jr. When she rings the bell, he is alone at home, covered with blood from his fan-shaped beard right down to his toes, because Zoe has driven half-an-inch of penknife into his left arm. Rosie proceeds to tie up his arm, being revolted not only with the amount of blood and the circumstances in which it has occurred but also by a photograph over the mantelpiece, at which she prefers not to look at a second time. She also has to sit and bear his screams of deliberate and appalling laughter, his offers to kiss her with his “bloody beard”, and his lectures on phallic symbols and the joys of hell and putrefied wounds. Drawn to him in a grotesque negation of all her better instincts, she is unable to go. When she does finally get up to

194  Huxley’s World View and His Characters go, she finds the outer door locked. There is a whoop of laughter behind her, and the “Cossack’s” hands are on her, his “blond beard dabbled with blood, prickling against her neck and face”. 20 Coleman’s degeneration is matched by no-one in the whole gamut of Huxley’s writing, even though many of his traits are echoed by people like Spandrell, Obispo, and Staithes. Dr. Obispo, though a hardened opportunist, is more like Burlap of Point Counter Point than like Coleman, and the manner in which he conquers Virginia is very like the manner in which Burlap conquers Beatrice. The only time in which we find a hint of Coleman in him is the obvious pleasure, and the “ferocious metallic laughter” that he displays when he sees the Fifth Earl of Gonister in the cellars. Mark Staithes, on the other hand, is very like Coleman in his love for the ugly, the dirty, and the grotesque. He also has a masochistic liking for great pain, and a superhuman ability to withstand it. But in no circumstance can we regard him as morally degenerate, or a worshipper of hell. So the Mephistopheles character-type, however recurrent it is in Huxley, cannot have Staithes included in it. The degeneracy which marks the Mephitopheles type reaches its symbolic acme in the society portrayed in Ape and Essence – both in the baboon society, and in the conditions after World War III. That is Huxley’s prediction for the world if it continues to live the life it is committed to live at present. The Colemans and Spandrells may be a rarity now, but they are as much a product of modern society as are the Lucy Tantamounts and Mary Amberleys. In the foreseeable future, the world may well be peopled by them. The Guru The “Guru” figure is an important character in all Huxley’s novels, but in the first phase he is very different from such figures appearing in the later novels. “Guru” is an Indian word denoting, according to the Advanced Learner’s Dictionary, “a Hindu spiritual leader”, or “a respected and influential expert or person in authority”. If we can amalgamate both meanings, we can get an idea of the person whom Huxley chooses in each novel to set an example, or to comment on the situation, or simply to give the surrounding people advice on how to live one’s life better. Since Huxley’s philosophy develops with age, the Gurus, who are the direct communicators of this philosophy, also change. Also successively different is Huxley’s purpose in creating these figures. In the first phase the connotation of a spiritual leader is almost totally absent. In the first novel, Crome Yellow, Mr. Scogan is nothing more than a cynic who talks a lot, and gives leading comments on various subjects, from pigs, procreation, and carminatives, to Future Social Hierarchy, and the Value of Eccentricity. In no way can he be called a Guru, even in Huxley’s

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 195 dictionary. He, however, has one virtue – that is, to bring down to earth anything that is consciously romanticized, and to criticize artificiality, insincerity, and shallowness. Antic Hay is an improvement in this regard, through the character of Gumbril Sr. The senior Gumbril is not a Guru in the established sense of the term, but he nevertheless leads an exemplary life in the midst of nature and art. He speaks little, advises rarely, but his lifestyle is a standing comment on the shallowness and degeneration of the life around him. It is significant that birds should choose his small garden and its fourteen plane trees to roost in, ignoring the more attractive gardens surrounding it – On fine evenings he used to sit out on his balcony waiting for the coming of the birds. And just at sunset, when the sky was most golden, there would be a twittering overhead, and the black, innumerable flocks of starlings would come sweeping across on the way from their daily haunts to their roosting places, chosen so capriciously among the tree-planted squares and gardens of the city and so tenaciously retained, year after year, to the exclusion of every other place. Why his fourteen plane trees should have been chosen, Mr. Gumbril could never imagine. There were plenty of larger, more umbrageous gardens all round; but they remained birdless, while every evening, from the larger flocks, a faithful legion detached itself to settle clamorously among his trees. 21 It speaks of the naturally decadent social desert, where one old man stands like an oasis, welcoming nature, and loving it. It is as if nature itself instinctively understands this, and appreciates his sincerity of intention. Gumbril Sr. has also given up his life to art – architecture in particular, and he uses the present-day London architecture to signify chaos – “There are some streets…oh, my God!” And Gumbril Senior threw up his hands in horror. It’s like listening to a symphony of cats to walk along them. Senseless discords and a horrible disorder all the way. And the one street that was really like a symphony by Mozart – how busily and gleefully they are pulling it down now! Another year, and there’ll be nothing left of Regent Street. There’ll only be a jumble of huge, hideous buildings at three-quarters of a million apiece. A concert of Brobdingnagian cats. Order has been turned into a disgusting chaos. We need no barbarians from outside; they’re on the premises all the time”.22 And to combat this chaos, at least in theory, he builds an enormous model of the city of London “as it might have been if they’d allowed

196  Huxley’s World View and His Characters Wren to carry out his plans of rebuilding after the Great Fire”. Wren, therefore, becomes through him, a symbol of proportion, civilization, harmony, and order – Wren offered them open spaces and broad streets; he offered them sunlight and air and cleanliness; he offered them beauty, order, and grandeur. He offered to build for the imagination and the ambitious spirit of man, so that even the most bestial, vaguely and remotely, as they walked those streets, might feel that they were of the same race – or very nearly – as Michelangelo; that they too might feel themselves, in spirit at least, magnificent, strong and free. He offered them all these things; he drew a plan for them, walking in peril among the still smouldering ruins. But they preferred to re-erect the squalor; they preferred the medieval darkness and crookedness and beastly irregular quaintness; they preferred holes and crannies and winding tunnels; they preferred foul smells, sunless, stagnant air, phthisis and rickets; they preferred ugliness and pettiness and dirt; they preferred the wretched human scale the scale of the sickly body, not of the mind”. 23 Antic Hay is Huxley’s celebration of Wren’s bi-centenary, but it does not merely sing Wren’s praises like the rest of London. Wren is placed by Huxley in juxtaposition with “Piranesi’s ruins”, which signifies London before the Great Fire, and therefore opens a whole world of reason and order, for which Gumbril Sr. becomes the minstrel. It is no accident that Gumbril Sr. expounds his plans for the architectural renovation of London to Lypiatt, an artist who represents the baroque style of Piranesi. The Guru figure is not developed perceptibly in Those Barren Leaves, even though we see Calamy renouncing worldly life and losing himself in the mountains in search of spiritual knowledge. Of course this act is significant in itself because it anticipates the rejection of the philosophy of pleasure and meaninglessness, which characterizes the later gurus of Huxley. It is in Point Counter Point that we perceive for the first time a full development of the Huxleyan Guru. Mark Rampion is an overwhelming figure whose greatest power is the ability to be liked and admired by one and all – good and evil alike. This quality enables him to be heard by everyone, and he can thus plunge into long discussions on ethics, morality, sociology, and predictions of the future of mankind with anyone who is present at Sbisa’s at the time. These two characteristics mark all Huxley’s Gurus in the later novels – the ability to draw respect, and the habit of discoursing at length on various subjects of social and artistic interest for didactic purposes. Usually their lives are models in themselves – and this is also the reason why so much space is given to describing the relationship between Mark and Mary Rampion, and the life that they live

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 197 together. Rampion, too, like the typical Huxleyan Guru, expounds for the most part Huxley’s own views and arguments in the novel. That is why none of these people are convincingly contradicted, however many arguments they may participate in. The gurus are not really an objectification of Huxley, for the writer projects himself in other characters in various novels – characters like Philip Quarles in Point Counter Point, or Anthony Beavis in Eyeless in Gaza, and partly Dr. Poole in Ape and Essence. What Rampion, like the later gurus, expounds, is what Huxley believes as the ideal, but an ideal which he himself has yet been unable to attain. Most often these gurus are based on people whom Huxley respected greatly, and tried to emulate. In Rampion’s case, this personality is D.H. Lawrence, and in Miller’s case, Gerald Heard. A detailed study of Rampion has already been undertaken in Chapter II, and his relationship with Lawrence, thoroughly examined. Rampion, however, being Huxley’s first real Guru figure, and also belonging to the first phase of his novels, has major differences from the gurus of the later novels. In the first place, he is not a person who advocates any real change in the social structure, as do Propter, or Mustapha Mond, or Miller in later novels. Rampion speaks of balance, order, and naturalness in the present social system. He criticizes the present-day society, but does not suggest a viable alternative. He concentrates more on the perfection of the individual than on social change. That is why much of his discourse is devoted to discussing the imperfections of the people around him, often directly to their faces. In later novels the gurus speak more generally about social improvement and change, and the role of the individual within this set-up. It is the relationship between the individual and the society which is their concern. Rampion’s life may be a model, but however attractive he may be, he remains a theoretician, whereas later, his counterparts attempt to give a practical demonstration of their views.

Towards a Better Individual The second phase of Huxley’s novels has been titled thus because though the thematic progression of the novels is towards a new and higher kind of social living, Huxley’s idea of progress is actually centred on the individual, through whom development of society occurs. As asserted in Ends and Means – In countries where rulers are chosen by popular vote there is no likelihood that startlingly novel and unacceptable reforms will be initiated by the central authority. In such countries the movement must always start at the periphery and move towards the center. Private individuals, either alone or in groups, must formulate the idea of reform and must popularize it among the masses. 24

198  Huxley’s World View and His Characters Individuals can work either alone or in association with other likeminded individuals. The work of the solitary individual is mainly preliminary to the work of the individuals in association. 25 At almost every period and in almost every country private individuals have associated for the purpose of initiating desirable change and of working out for themselves a way of life superior to that of their contemporaries. In the preservation and development of civilization these groups of devoted individuals have played a very important part and are destined. 26 Thus Huxley reiterates his opinion of the primacy of the individual in social development. This is very different both from the Marxist idea of social evolution, and from the Capitalist theory of the self-pursuing, materialistic individual. Huxley’s ideal is somewhere in between – a complete individual who devotes his energies and faculties to better communal living – an ideal which he partly imbibes from Oriental philosophy, of which he had undertaken in-depth study. That is why the ideal community, according to Huxley, is one which will find adequate solutions to the following problems – To find the best way of combining workers’ self-government with technical efficiency – responsible freedom at the periphery with advanced scientific management at the center. To find the best way of varying the individual’s labours so as to eliminate boredom and multiply educational contacts with other individuals, working in responsible groups. To find the best way of disposing of the wealth created by machine production. (Some form of communal ownership of property and income seems, as we have seen, to be a necessary condition of successful living in an association of devoted individuals.) To find the best way of investing superfluous wealth and to determine the proportion of such wealth that ought to be invested in capital goods. To find the best way of using the gifts of individual workers and the best way of employing persons belonging to the various psychological types [somatotonic, viscerotonic, and cerebrotonic, according to Dr. William Sheldon]. To find the best form of community life and the best way of using leisure. To find the best form of education for children and of self-education for adults.

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 199 To find the best form of communal government and the best way to use gifts of leadership without subjecting the individuals so gifted to the temptation of ambition or arousing in their minds the lust for power.27 Huxley, therefore, attempts to strike a mean between total individualism and total centralism, but to him the best method is to move from the periphery to the center, not the other way round. This search for the ideal social set-up is reflected in the second phase of Huxley’s novels – Eyeless in Gaza, After Many a Summer, Time Must Have a Stop. It is also reflected in the number of characters who search for perfection and get hurt in the process; and it is reflected in the weighing and balancing of the virtues and drawbacks of various social systems and individual attempts at striking the above said mean. Here the broad types that we can identify are – (1) The Protagonist as Learner; (2) The Baboon; (3) The Woman; and (4) The Guru. The Protagonist as Learner There is a perceptible change in the type of protagonists whom we meet in the second phase, from those we have already met in the first. The self-conscious young man with a misguided opinion of the ideal that we find in the first four novels, slowly emerges into the young man in search of truth. There is no quest as such in the earlier writings, nor is the hero shown to change to any perceptible extent there. Denis remains the same at the beginning of Crome Yellow as at the end; Gumbril Jr. remains basically the lovable but flawed gentleman; Chelifer is all through the cynical observer; and Walter Bidlake (though he cannot exactly be called the protagonist in a hero-less novel), has not learnt his lesson even after a fruitless relationship with Lucy. In the first phase the protagonist is projected in relationship with his circumstances, not as a developing character who changes himself as his circumstances change. As such, the novels of the second phase, and their characters, are far more dynamic, both in respect of time – which, incidentally, is a major theme here – and in respect of their development. Both Anthony Beavis of Eyeless in Gaza and Sebastian Barnack of Time Must Have a Stop are anti-heroes, ostensibly descended from Denis or Gumbril. Yet, unlike these earlier characters, they have both committed a severe error of judgement, by which they have brought their closest friends to a terrible fate. Anthony has betrayed the only real friend he has ever had – Brian; and Sebastian’s irresponsibility has led to political incarceration for the innocent Bruno Rontini – his future mentor. This error hangs like a sword over their spiritual lives, and affects much of their lives after it is committed, acting like a turning point to their characters. It also brings in an element of humility in them, which makes them more open to the positive influences of Miller or Rontini.

200  Huxley’s World View and His Characters Anthony himself is a very complex character, and he has been discussed in detail in Chapter III. But the case of Sebastian Barnack is rather different, even though the anagnorisis in his case is similar to Anthony’s. Sebastian does not satisfy us as a character as much as Anthony because, as Christopher Isherwood has pointed out, there is “a huge jump from Sebastian, the precocious, cowardly, inhibited schoolboy to Sebastian the mature, meditative man, already far advanced in the practice of spiritual discrimination”. 28 Actually, it is even debatable whether Sebastian can be regarded as the protagonist of this novel at all. The fact that he develops as a character from immaturity to maturity, from ignorance to knowledge, fulfils a traditional requisite of protagonists of serious literature. However, in this novel, Huxley’s interest lies more in the death-experience of Eustace Barnack than in the intellectual evolution of Sebastian, his nephew. In this respect, Eustace is arguably more important than the latter. Huxley’s obsession with death has been pointed out by Peter Bowering in his treatment of Time Must Have a Stop, 29 and in Island much of the novel is devoted to discussing how important it is to prepare oneself for death, to die in the proper way, and to make death the ultimate fulfilment of life. Eustace Barnack, who has lived a life of unmitigated hedonism, whose excesses are reflected in his very “flabby and soft and unwholesomely blotched” face; who is nothing better than a combination of “senility and babyishness, of the infantile with the epicurean”, is one who is totally unprepared for the sudden arrival of the end. Contrasted with this is the death of Bruno, a man who is well-prepared in advance, and who has devoted much of his life to education and refinement of the spirit. Unlike Eustace Barnack’s self-love and self-pampering, to Bruno “…there is one effectively redemptive sacrifice… the sacrifice of the self-will to make room for the knowledge of God”.30 Eustace Barnack illustrates one fact that Huxley has wanted to assert from Point Counter Point itself – that a man can only know how to die if he has known how to live. The theme of the middle-aged gentleman who cannot come to terms with the reality of death is also used in After Many a Summer in the character of Jo Stoyte. In a way it is a variation of the theme on the middle-aged woman fighting against age, so well treated in the first phase of the novels. The novels of the second phase, therefore, are distinctly different from those of the first – in that the protagonists here are not necessarily of the type of the Complete Man that is so characteristic of Huxley. Time, therefore, in the second phase, becomes more important than in any other phase of the novels. In the final phase the theme of Time slipping out of one’s grasp recurs in a greater sphere – the passing away of a whole age and civilization, not merely of an individual life. After Many a Summer is primarily devoted to exploring the possibility of man’s life being extended indefinitely, and also the unwholesome consequences of such extension. The character of Jo Stoyte is eminently suited

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 201 to this purpose – a little-educated, ageing man, who is more concerned with prolonging the life-span of the body than with refining in order to welcome death. In a way, Jo Stoyte is another of Huxley’s anti-heroes – basically simple-minded, blustering and ambitious, but with rather misplaced priorities in matters of morality and human values. He too learns, as Sebastian or Anthony learn, but this learning comes mostly from hard experience – accidentally killing an innocent boy in a fit of jealousy; having to be on the receiving end of Dr. Obispo’s black-­mailing because of this accident; coming face-to-face with the Fifth Earl of Gonister, whose bestial degeneration shakes him into a knowledge of the actual consequences of endless living; and an understanding of the fate awaiting him if Dr. Obispo’s experiments on him are successful. Yet, though Anthony and Sebastian learn from their respective gurus, Miller and Bruno, Stoyte refuses to learn from Bill Propter, whose way of life he would have done well to follow, but flatly refuses to yield to – Extorted against his will, this admiration bred a corresponding resentment towards its object. Jo Stoyte felt aggrieved that Bill had given him so many reasons for liking him. He would have preferred to like him without a reason, in spite of his shortcomings. But Bill had few shortcomings and many merits, merits which Jo himself did not have and whose presence in Bill he therefore regarded as an affront. Thus it was that all the reasons for liking Bill Propter were also, in Jo’s eyes, equally valid reasons for disliking him.31 In the novel, therefore, Propter remains more a contrast to than a perfection of Jo Stoyte. The Woman The polarity in the types of woman that we find in the first phase, is to a great extent abandoned in the second phase. The point of regret is that Huxley returns to this polarity in the last phase, except perhaps in the character of Lenina. Veronica Thwale of Time Must Have a Stop is a sharp reminder of Anna in Crome Yellow, not only in her common-sense, down-to-earth view of life but also in her condescending encouragement of Sebastian’s infatuation with her. In a way she becomes his tutor of love, just as Bruno later becomes his spiritual guru. She, however, is never as hard as Lucy Tantamount, or as flirtatious as Mary Amberley, and retains her womanliness to the very end. The character of the Siren Female receives its first major twist in Virginia – the Baby of After Many a Summer. In her Huxley somehow manages to combine the Siren with her contrast, the Madonna figure. In the first phase, this contrast had been defined in separate characters. In After Many a Summer no woman other than the Baby is at all

202  Huxley’s World View and His Characters required, for she herself portrays all the conflicting features of the two kinds of women. To Jo Stoyte she is the “daughter-mistress”, the “concubine-child, fanatically desired, cherished to the point of idolatry” – her contradictions evident in these very epithets. On one hand she is his mistress, on the other he is her “Uncle Jo”. On one hand she is weak where the pleasures of the flesh are concerned, on the other she hates herself for this weakness. She is as prone to physical comfort and sexual pleasures as are the Siren figures of Huxley’s novels, but she is the only one who genuinely feels sorry for her lapses. Like a typical adolescent she leads on Dr. Obispo and Pete; like an adolescent she revels in the pleasures that only “Sig” (Obispo) can give her; like a typical upper-class teenager she secretly delves into pornographic literature when she has the chance; and like most unthinking adolescents, her first thought is to save her skin – which is why she uses Pete to cover up her relationship with Dr. Obispo. She also finds plenty of excuses to justify her moral lapses, but the very fact that she needs to excuse herself at all, and also the fact that these excuses are made to herself, are enough to show her to be different. The element of conscience is sadly lacking in the Siren figures of the first phase; it is there in full measure where Virginia is concerned, and it is shown in a far subtler and more mature way in Helen in Eyeless in Gaza. It is as if Virginia is an amalgamation of two conflicting personalities, each of which is painfully aware of the other – “To escape; to forget one’s own old wearisome identity; to become someone else or, better, some other thing – a mere body, strangely numbed or more than ordinarily sentient; or else just a state of impersonal mind, a mode of unindividualized consciousness….But like the other addictions, whether to drugs or books, to power or applause, the addiction to pleasure tends to aggravate the condition it temporarily alleviates. …The addiction alleviates, but in doing so increases the pains demanding alleviation. Lying there, propped up against her pillows, Virginia was suffering her daily resurrection from the valley of the shadow of her nocturnal deaths. From having been epileptically something else, she was becoming her own self again – a self, it was true, still somewhat numbed and bewildered by fatigue, still haunted by the memory of strange scenes and overpowering sensations, but none the less recognizably the old Virginia; the Virginia who admired Uncle Jo for his success and was grateful to him for having given her such a wonderful time, the Virginia who had always laughed and thought life grand and never bothered about things, the Virginia who had made Uncle Jo build the Grotto and had loved Our Lady ever since she was a kid. And now this Virginia was double-crossing her poor old, admired Uncle Jo – not just telling a few little fibs, which

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 203 might happen to anyone, but deliberately and systematically double-crossing him. And not only him, she was also double-crossing poor Pete. A double-crosser – that was all she was. A double-crosser. The knowledge of this worried her, it made her feel unhappy and ashamed; it prevented her from laughing at things the way she used to; it kept her thinking, and feeling bad about what she was doing, and resolving not to do it again, even though she really hated herself for doing it and hated Sig for making her….Felt so bad, indeed, that she had been ashamed to look Our Lady in the face. For more than a week now the white velvet curtains across the front of the sacred doll’s house had remained drawn.32 She can remain the mistress of two people at the same time, and lead on a third, but this is not due to any lack of scruples or moral sense on her part, as it is with Mary Amberley, for instance; but rather due to a weakness of the flesh, which she cannot overcome, however, much she tries. On one hand, she is drawn like a magnet towards Obispo; on the other, she genuinely hates him. On one hand, she is titillated by pornography; on the other, she has built an altar of “Our Lady” – the Virgin Mary – where she pours all her devotion, love, and a very real desire to be good enough to live up to this love. It is as if her alter-ego is there in herself, which is why another contrasting character is quite unnecessary. Helen is the supreme female creation of the second phase, both in terms of maturity, and in terms of moral and spiritual conflict. She has been dealt with in detail in Chapter III, and it has been my aim to show how wrong is the general notion that she is of the same level and type as her mother, Mary Amberley, or Lucy Tantamount of Point Counter Point. According to Kishore Gandhi, people like Mary and Helen Amberley “are adrift in the dreary sea of sensation and sensuality. These ship-wrecked victims are contented in eddies of eroticism. They seek unpleasant sensation and show a strong desire for an escape from responsibility, moral obligations of society, family, marriage, and ordinary morality. They exhibit heartlessness, delight in sexual promiscuity, and the pursuit of ephemeral pleasure”. 33 Contrary to this notion, Helen is the only important woman in Eyeless in Gaza, and indeed, in any of Huxley’s novels of the first and middle phase, who has a genuine search for an emotional and spiritual life beyond the physical sensations. It is in pursuance of such an ideal that she marries Hugh, leaves Anthony, and is contemptuous of her mother after learning of her illicit relationship with Gerry Watchett. She finds her ideal in Ekki, with whom her relationship borders on a perfect union of emotional attachment, ideological purpose, and physical satisfaction. This perfection is doomed in Ekki’s way of life, for he is finally annihilated by the Nazis, throwing Helen into an abyss of loss and desperation. The novel ends with a hint that perhaps in the future the new, reformed Anthony will be able to reach out to the

204  Huxley’s World View and His Characters stone wall that she has turned into, and lead her onto new horizons. The very fact that Helen rejects whatever her mother symbolizes – sexual promiscuity and hedonism, and also whatever Anthony at first symbolized – stringless relationship, irresponsibility in love, and cowardice – shows that she has the capability and strength of character which will transcend her into being someone who is the closest one can get to completeness of personality. The development in the characters of Helen and Anthony is from imperfection towards perfection, and this seems to be more acceptable and heroic than the static perfection of Miller. Never in any of Huxley’s novels do we come across another woman quite like Helen, even though Katy, the “goddess” of The Genius and the Goddess, is complex enough. In a way she symbolizes the continual aspiration of human beings to transcend the limitations of the flesh, and attain the perfection later envisaged in Island. The Baboon The baboon in Huxley is the epitome of whatever is base and animal in mankind; it symbolizes those very features of a human being which prevent him from being a true homo sapiens, and draw him down towards evolutionary baseness. It is the culmination of all the animal images in Huxley’s novels, beginning with Crome Yellow, where Mr. Scogan is compared to a lizard. Point Counter Point shows a surfeit of animal imagery, where, with the exception of the Rampions and the Quarleses, not a single person escapes being compared to animals. Animals are used in experiments in Lord Tantamount’s laboratory and are also presented symbolically in Rampion’s paintings. The manner in which animals are depicted in this novel reminds one strongly of the beast fable, where each animal represents certain anthropomorphic virtues or vices – in Huxley’s case, most often vices. Thus, Lucy Tantamount is compared to a crocodile, because she finds pleasure in devouring men (in her case, sexually), and Spandrell is likened to a gargoyle, because only a gargoyle can illustrate the monstrosity inherent in him. Burlap is a leech – a parasite who calmly sucks other people’s blood; and Walter Bidlake is a dog, licking Lucy’s feet – which he literally does – and fawning after her. Animal baseness, robbing a human being of his very humanity, is first depicted in Antic Hay, where the play within the novel in Chapter XVI, seen by Gumbril and Myra, has for its protagonist a deformed monster. The monster, however, though born deformed, is also to a great extent, artificially created, for his monstrosity develops from the treatment he receives from birth. The sub-humanness of people like Miss Elver of Those Barren Leaves is not physical; it is mental, as though the person has not had the chance to grow up into a fully-fledged human being. Yet, even so, it is something she is born with, something quite involuntary. By the time we come to After Many a Summer and to the subsequent Baboon figures, we

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 205 find that these characters are voluntarily sub-human, choosing the apelife to what civilization regards as human. In this respect, these people are even more degraded than the monster or Miss Elver. In After Many a Summer baboons are brought in from the very beginning, as instrumental in the experiments on longevity carried on by Dr. Obispo and his assistant, Pete. In Part I Chapter VII, Virginia goes to watch the feeding of the baboons. A lot of descriptive space is given to the behaviour of the baboons – the pathetic scene of a baboon mother refusing to leave her dead baby; the possessiveness of a baboon male for a female, and then another male rushing in to claim that female as soon as his back is turned; and the total animality of their love-making, including squeals, cries, and chattering. It is ironical that this account will be echoed faithfully in the final chapter of the novel, in the antics of a human being, the Earl of Gonister. It is also very pointingly ironical, when, after observing these baboons for some time, Virginia, clapping her hands with pleasure, exclaims – “Aren’t they cute? Aren’t they human?” The humanness of the baboons is as evident as the baboonishness of the human beings in this novel. Language used in connection with baboons, for example, is used in connection with old Jeremy Pordage – His elbow on the desk, in an attitude of prayer, he meditatively scratched his head; scratched it with both hands where little spots had formed in the dry scabs at the roots of the hair that still remained to him, scabs which it was an exquisite pleasure to prise up with the fingernails and carefully detach….(There! The scab under the right hand had come loose. He pulled it out through the thick tufted hair above his ears and, as he looked at the tiny dessicated shred of tissue, was suddenly reminded of the baboons. But, after all, why not? The most certain and abiding pleasures are the tiniest, the simplest, the most rudimentarily animal – the pleasure of lying in a hot bath, for example, or under the bedclothes, between waking and sleeping, in the morning; the pleasure of answering the calls of nature, the pleasure of being rubbed by a good masseur, the pleasure finally of being scratched when one itched. Why be ashamed? He dropped the scab into the waste-paper basket and continued to scratch with the left hand.)34 The concept of the baboon reaches its culmination in the figure of the Fifth Earl of Gonister, whom we know indirectly throughout the novel through the diary which he had begun two hundred and one years ago, and which abruptly came to an end with an account of his staged death in the face of justice. The experiments on longevity also end with the discovery of this diary, for the Earl had discovered a unique method of extended human life indefinitely by eating the raw entrails of a particular kind of carp. The novel actually ends with the discovery of this Earl and his housekeeper (whom he had kept alive along with

206  Huxley’s World View and His Characters himself) in an underground sanctuary, and it is this episode which not only constitutes the climax of the novel but also gives the Fifth Earl the fit requisites to be regarded as a character on his own right. The whole episode of longevity and the Earl of Gonister moves on Huxley’s unique assumption that the older a person is, the more backward he moves in the process of evolution. Mr. Propter, openly disapproving of Jo Stoyte’s attempts to prolong his life indefinitely, explains the reason to Pete, Dr. Obispo’s assistant – “…A dog’s a wolf that hasn’t fully developed. It is more like the foetus of a wolf than an adult wolf; isn’t that so?” Pete nodded. “In other words”, Mr. Propter went on, “it’s a mild, tractable animal because it has never grown up into savagery. Isn’t it supposed to be one of the mechanisms of evolutionary development?” Pete nodded again. “There is a kind of glandular equilibrium”, he explained. “Then a mutation comes along and knocks it sideways. You get a new equilibrium that happens to retard the development rate. You grow up; but you do it so slowly that you’re dead before you’ve stopped being like your great-great-grandfather’s foetus”. “Exactly”, said Mr. Propter. “So what happens if you prolong the life of an animal that has evolved that way?” Pete laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see”, he said. “It would be a bit disquieting”, said Mr. Propter, “if your dogs grew back in the process of growing up”.35 Therefore, if a man had the chance of living so long as to allow this backward process to work on him, he would move closer to becoming an ape than to becoming a better human being. The Earl of Gonister, on discovering the secret of longevity, lives a healthy life for over two hundred years, and will probably go on living a healthy life for some more years to come. But in the process, he finally manages to turn into a foetal anthropoid, as Dr. Obispo explains it – Dr. Obispo went on talking. Slowing up of development rates… one of the mechanisms of evolution…the older the anthropoid, the stupider…senility and sterol poisoning…the intestinal flora of the carp…the Fifth Earl had anticipated his own discovery…no sterol poisoning, no senility…no death, perhaps, except through an accident…but meanwhile the foetal anthropoid was able to come to maturity…It was the finest joke he had ever known.36

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 207 This is not a big joke; it is the biggest irony that Huxley could inflict on the concept of the homo sapiens. A long-living man actually turns into an ape – scratching at his scabs, living naked, growing ridges above his eyes, urinating on the floor, and copulating in front of a crowd. It is also a big blow to the Shavian concept of a Superman, which is also an adaptation of the theory of evolution, but entails a conscious development of the mind through correct mating, reflected in successive generations. But this is not the end of the joke. The worst is yet to come: the prospect of a human being consciously and knowingly accepting indefinite longevity even though it will mean swallowing the raw entrails of a carp, and entail the prospect of developing into a foetal anthropoid. So far, sub-humanness in Huxley had been involuntary, something the concerned person could not help, and therefore, in a way, pathetic – as in the case of Miss Elver in Those Barren Leaves, or the Monster of the play in Antic Hay, or the Deltas and Epsilons in Brave New World. But in After Many a Summer, Stoyte, amidst the intolerable stench emanating from the cagelike bars of the room in which the Fifth Earl had incarcerated himself with his housekeeper, sees for himself what longevity has done for a human being, and is offered the same prospect by Obispo – “No need for any further experiment. We know it works. You can start taking the stuff at once. At once”. After weighing the pros and cons, Stoyte chooses longevity – “How long do you figure it would take before a person went like that?” he said in a slow, hesitating voice. “I mean, it wouldn’t happen at once…there’d be a long time while a person…well, you know; while he wouldn’t change any. And once you get over the first shock – well, they look like they were having a pretty good time. I mean in their way, of course. Don’t you think so, Obispo?” he insisted. Dr. Obispo went on looking at him in silence; then threw back his head and started to laugh again.37 This marks the ultimate fall of humanity, which does not imply an acceptance of sin, as Dr. Obispo does; for sin is an integral part of human nature; but an acceptance of animalism, giving it precedence over humanism. Without doubt, this calls for more contempt than Sin has ever earned. The Guru The guru figure changes perceptibly from the first phase to the second phase. In Antic Hay and Point Counter Point, where we have well-defined gurus, these figures are mainly used to provide a yardstick by which all the other characters are to be judged. Point Counter Point, however, is the one novel, which, again, acts as a link between the two

208  Huxley’s World View and His Characters phases, Rampion not only serving as a unit of moral measurement but also acting as an advisor and teacher acceptable to everyone in the novel. In the second phase, every one of the novels is marked by an authentic guru, whose personality is marked by very little variation from novel to novel. Propter in After Many a Summer, Miller in Eyeless in Gaza, and Bruno Rontini in Time Must Have a Stop are in most ways similar, speaking in more or less the same manner, and expounding Huxleyan doctrines. What makes them different from the guru figures in the first phase is that now, instead of merely criticizing and pointing out the mistakes of civilization, they provide an alternative – a society based on community feeling and spiritual consciousness. Among them, Miller becomes the preacher of non-violent resistance to fascist violence, the messenger of peaceful and simple living, and the living illustration of unselfish service of mankind. In the process he manages to change totally the cowardly self-centred person that Anthony Beavis had previously been. Miller also tries to evolve a new society based on unselfish community effort – a society which is not Marxist because it does not advocate violence and the totalitarianism of a single party. In this he expresses in word and action the picture of the ideal society which Huxley had envisaged in Ends and Means, which would be based on non-violence, would work for the common good, and become a conjugation of all the best features of both Eastern and Western civilizations. In this Miller is the one who both looks back to Rampion and anticipates the inhabitants of Pala. Of all the guru figures in this phase, Propter is the one who is the most in the habit of imparting his view of life through long discourses, his listeners throwing in a question or two at times to guide the direction of his lectures. Of course, long discourses on the present state of affairs, and what it ought to have been, is characteristic of all Huxley’s gurus, but Propter must be singled out because he is a class by himself in this regard. Much of Miller’s opinions is communicated to us through Anthony’s diary, which is why the monotony of one person speaking at length is to an extent minimized. In Time Must Have a Stop we hardly see Bruno Rontini at all, and most of his advice to Sebastian is given in the form of small squares of paper with “rare requests, his answers to questions, his comments and advice”.38 In comparison, some of Propter’s speeches read like short essays within the structure of the novel. No doubt this is a flaw which Huxley has sought to correct in the later novels to some extent. There are still long passages of exposition and explanation, but in novels like Brave New World and Ape and Essence, they are integrated into the plot and structure of the novel, while in Time Must Have a Stop, Rontini is made to speak through those tiny bits of paper which are far less tedious than Propter’s essay-like discourses. In one way, however, Propter is an advance from the previous novels – he has an alternative to provide. He does not stop at criticizing

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 209 the present; he tries to counter it practically by building two-roomed cabins for the poor, impoverished migrants, at six or seven hundred dollars apiece on his own ten-acre land, and setting up a small solar energy plant on his premises so that he could be “independent of the city”. According to him – “The more bosses, the less democracy. But unless people can support themselves, they’ve got to have a boss who’ll undertake to do it for them. So the less self-support, the less democracy”.39 In his system, therefore, the less state ownership, the more freedom to an individual, and though we only see his work in process, not as a complete alternative, it nevertheless is a step towards the true Huxleian alternative, which reaches its completion in Island. Bruno Rontini also talks, but of all Huxley’s gurus, he talks the least. It is as if, after Propter, Huxley is trying to create someone who will be less tedious and more acceptable. More notably, his advice to Sebastian comes after he has proved to be a better person than most people, helping Sebastian even after knowing him to be a foolish, wrong-thinking, young man. He may even be something of a martyr, suffering in prison for his ideals, and forgiving the one who had been instrumental in his being put into that prison for ten years. We can agree with Lawrence Brander in his assessment of Rontini – “Some readers may find this a sentimental portrait of a good man, much less firm than the ironic certainty of the strokes that make Veronica. But it is a fine attempt, and nothing in fiction is more difficult than to create a character whose essential virtue is goodness”.40 One way of preventing tedium by too many long monologues is to use another person, usually a faithful disciple, to express his ideas. In Eyeless in Gaza such a character was Anthony; in Time Must Have a Stop it is Carlo Malphighi. It is not Sebastian, for however much he may be shown to be a master of words, his change is shown to occur in act, not speech, culminating in his looking after Bruno in his dying illness. The most significant of these utterances by Malphighi is the one most quoted in this novel, and one which may be seen to be the core of Huxley’s philosophy – ….there’s only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that’s your own self…So you have to begin there, not outside, not on other people. That comes afterwards, when you’ve worked on your own corner. You’ve got to be good before you can do good – or at any rate do good without doing harm at the same time. Helping with one hand and hurting with the other – that’s what the other reformer does.41 The little squares of paper on which Bruno writes his advice to Sebastian are the ones on which the latter forms his “working hypothesis” – a phrase which again suggests action – which is summed up thus –

210  Huxley’s World View and His Characters That there is a Godhead or Ground, which is the unmanifested principle of all manifestations. That the Ground is transcendent and immanent. That it is possible for human beings to love, know, and, from virtually, to become actually identified with the Ground. That to achieve this unitive knowledge, to realize this supreme identity, is the final end and purpose of human existence. That there is a Law and Dharma, which must be obeyed, a Tao or Way, which must be followed, if men are to achieve their final end. That the more there is of I, me, mine, the less there is of the Ground; and consequently the Tao is a Way of humility and compassion, the Dharma a Law of mortification and self-transcending awareness.42 This “minimum working hypothesis” is based on the Vedanta, which acted as a great influence on Huxley’s philosophy. This hypothesis later becomes the spring-board from which Island and its Notes on What’s What, and on What it Might be Reasonable to Do About What’s What will follow.

The Future Brave New World is not a novel that technically belongs to Huxley’s last phase, for it was written much earlier (1932), even before Eyeless in Gaza was published. However, since it is integrally related to the futuristic novels, Ape and Essence and Island, and together with these novels, consolidates Huxley’s vision of the future, it is better discussed with the novels of the last phase, rather than those of the middle phase, to which it chronologically belongs. Nevertheless, in spite of including Brave New World among these novels, I have persisted in labelling this the Third and Final Phase, since Huxley’s outlook ends with a vision of the Future, and not an analysis of the Past, nor a criticism of the Present. The criticism of the Present is always implied in the delineation of the future, and so the last phase actually forms an amalgamation of all the levels of time. Chapter IV of this analysis had dealt with the principal character types that are evident in the Futuristic novels. The thrust of this chapter is somewhat different. Huxley’s vision of the future is integrally related to his philosophy of life, which in turn, is partly influenced by Eastern modes of thought, and partly by the Western. The characters, mainly through the dialogues, communicate these modes of thought to us as is typical in a conversation novel. All together, in the guise of giving visions of the future, Huxley finally gives us the most integrated analysis of his philosophy of life through all his novels, from Crome Yellow to Island.

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 211 As such, this section on Huxley’s philosophic vision and the role of the characters in bringing it to life will be discussed under the heads – the West, the East, and the Union between the two, which is the true representation of his ideal. The West In the Devils of Loudon Huxley underlines the need for an individual to develop his full potential by learning “to live with the cosmos in all its levels, from the material to the spiritual”.43 Before discussing how Huxley envisages the way in which this can be done, it would be better to separate the two planes of Huxley’s thought, and then analyse their union. It is rather remarkable that Huxley identifies certain features of society and thought processes as “Western”, and certain other features as “Eastern” – remarkable, because many of these “Western” features are as much characteristic of Eastern society as Western in the processes of history. For instance, the tendency of mankind towards organized warfare is quite unhesitatingly regarded as Western, even though the Chengis Khans and Tamburlaines of the Eastern world are quite as well known. Likewise, a materialistic outlook towards life is regarded as Western, while spiritualism is identified with the East. The first half of the twentieth century was an era of unprecedented progress in science and medicine, and ironically, the ill-effects of science were becoming more evident than the good. The biggest marks of this were the two World Wars appearing in quick succession, the horrors of the Second far surpassing those of the First. The ability of the Western World of perfecting organized warfare reached its peak during this time, and probably this fact influenced Huxley into setting the barbaric society of the post-World War III era of Ape and Essence in California, and showing the pugnacious Murugan as prone to Western influences in his fascination for weapons and warfare in Island. The two World Wars are at the base of the two truly futuristic novels, Brave New World and Ape and Essence – truly futuristic because they are both built upon the logical development of present-day science, if it is allowed to continue as it is doing now. Brave New World shows a society which men build as a reaction to the horrors of a Third World War. The people, moreover, destroy everything that is old, good or bad, in fear that it will bring back instability, undermining centuries of hard labour, promoting stability. Instability, therefore, is not a characteristic of the Western world; it is the logical fall-out of the senseless use of scientific knowledge towards the selfish ends of a handful few. Huxley’s disgust with weapons and warfare is ingrained in his philosophy and writing. Stephen Spender, a contemporary, had remarked of him thus – “Huxley had the vision of what Conrad describes as the Heart of Darkness, the never-ceasing consciousness of what men

212  Huxley’s World View and His Characters are doing to themselves with their weapons of destruction and their means of scientific improvement, and of the still more terrifying things that they are likely to do in the future. But he always believed that by resolute use of reason and imagination catastrophe could be avoided”.44 In Ends and Means he emphatically asserts that “every road towards a better state of society is blocked, sooner or later by war, by threats of war, by preparations for war”.45 That is why, perhaps, his social ideal, Pala, is shown to be tottering on the brink of destruction, because of the ambition and greed of war-mongers like Murugan and Col. Dipa. Thus, Huxley is a strong advocate of Pacifism, which, if “deeply realized and appropriately worked out, may yet save the world from the recurrent orgies of cannibalism”.46 In the Encyclopaedia of Pacifism Huxley has urged the public to meet warfare with love, and in The Perennial Philosophy he puts forth his arguments thus – The reign of violence will never come to an end until, first, most human beings accept the same, true philosophy of life; until, second, this perennial philosophy is recognized as the highest factor common to all the world religions; until, third, the adherents of every religion renounce the idolatrous time-philosophies, with which, in their own particular faith, the Perennial Philosophy of eternity has been overlaid; until, fourth, there is a world-wide rejection of all the political pseudo-religions, which place man’s supreme good in future time and therefore justify and commend the commission of every sort of present iniquity as a means to that end. If these conditions are not fulfilled, no amount of political planning, no economic blue-prints however ingeniously drawn, can prevent the recrudescence of war and revolution.47 It was from this conviction that he became one of the sponsors of the Peace Pledge Movement, along with Vera Brittain, George Lansbury, Rose Macaulay, Storm Jameson, and Bertrand Russell. In the novels, the character of Miller in Eyeless in Gaza is a direct outcome of this philosophy, as also partly is Calamy of Those Barren Leaves and Rontini of Time Must Have a Stop. Dick, the hero of his first short story, The Farcical History of Richard Greenow, is strongly opposed to violence, and is a Pacifist at heart – But if”, the Military Representative continued, “if your objection is not religion, may I ask what it is? It is based on a belief that all war is wrong, and that the solidarity of the human race can only be achieved in practice by protesting against war, wherever it appears and in whatever form.48

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 213 Certain popular Western concepts, so far held to be inviolable, are also held up to criticism and ridicule. For instance, the concept of Democracy, which allows maximum freedom to the individual, and is upheld as the ideal by Huxley in both Ends and Means and the Devils of Loudon, is made use of in Ape and Essence with harsh irony. Loola, having the temerity to express her desire to work with Alfred Poole beyond the fortnight after Belial Day, is brought before the Grand Inquisitor’s Special Assistant – “But I want to work with Alfie”, she protests. “You seem to forget”, says the first Familiar, “that this is a Democracy…” “A Democracy”, adds his colleague, “in which every proletarian enjoys perfect freedom”. True freedom. Freely doing the will of the proletariat. And vox proletariatus, vox Diaboli.49 In the face of further protests on Loola’s part, the Special Assistant produces a very large consecrated bull’s pizzle, and lays it on the table, saying – “Correct me if I’m wrong”, he says. “But my impression is that any vessel rejecting proletarian liberty is liable to twenty five lashes for each and every such offence”. There is another silence. Pale and wide-eyed, Loola stares at the instrument of torture, then looks away, makes an effort to speak, finds herself voiceless and, swallowing hard, tries again. “I won’t resist”, she manages to bring out. “I really want to be free”. “Free to go on mining cemeteries?” She nods affirmatively.50 In the same way, the concepts of Christianity and Education are torn apart – And what about your duty towards your neighbour? “My duty towards my neighbour”, comes the choral answer, “is to do my best to prevent him from doing unto me what I should like to do unto him; to subject myself to all my governors; to keep my body in absolute chastity, except during the two weeks following Belial’s

214  Huxley’s World View and His Characters Day; and to do my duty in that state of life to which it has pleased Belial to condemn me”. “What is the Church?” “The Church is the body of which Belial is the head and all possessed people are the members”.51 And in Island, Biblical tenets are thus overturned – “Do to your children’s bottoms what was done to yours, what your Heavenly Father has been doing to the collective bottom of humanity ever since the Fall: whip, whip, whip!”52 About Education, the Chief in Ape and Essence is disgusted at the Practitioner continually beating at a little girl’s legs with a willow switch to punish her, making her cry out in pain. His opinion is more orthodox – “All this progressive education!” he says to Dr. Poole. “No proper discipline. I don’t know what we are coming to. Why, when I was a boy, our old Practitioner used to tie them over a bench and go to work with a birch rod. ‘That’ll teach you to be a vessel”, he’d say, and then swish, swish, swish! Belial, how they howled! That’s what I call education”.53 The idea that corporal punishment is essential to education is not new and is not restricted to the West, either. But Huxley takes certain concepts and pin-points them as predominantly Eastern or Western. As such, in Island, the gurukul system of education is identified as Eastern, whereas the classroom system, along with physical punishment, is regarded as Western. Huxley’s Futuristic novels are unerringly based on western scientific developments, including those in the field of medicine and psychology. The concept of the test-tube baby has been carried to its logical extreme in Brave New World, and now, in the age of cloning, the picture seems even more horrifyingly real. The World State represents an age in which technology is the answer for all man’s ailments, even to the extent of preserving life-long youth and health. For the Western world, which swears by Ford – not God nor Belial – emotion and spirituality are quite forgotten in the frenzied attempt to clutch at stability, sensual satisfaction, and physical comfort. Technology can create both a hell and a heaven – o ­ rdinary people like the Savage or us, may well discover it to be the former. Yet, the good effects of Western medicine are not denied by Huxley. It had been formerly evident in Eyeless in Gaza, where Dr. Miller’s work is primarily to alleviate the suffering of the sadly nutrition-deficient and hygiene-deficient people of Mexico. In Brave New World, whatever the deficiencies of the World State, there is absolutely no doubt that the people there have mastered the secrets of health and hygiene, and consequently have considerably lessened physical suffering. When the bloated

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 215 figure of Linda in the Savage Enclosement is compared to the cleanliness and beauty of Lenina, the infinitely superior effects of correct medication is even more evident. Most significantly, in Pala, Dr. MacPhail is a medical practitioner in the western mode, and his hospital and nurses are well-trained in primarily western methods of treatment (along with certain Eastern methods which will be discussed later). The First Raja, the Reformer, had summoned Dr. Andrew MacPhail from England in order to get rid of a devouring tumour in an age which had not yet discovered the boon of anaesthetics. The problem of anaesthetics was solved by the concept of “animal magnetism”, which had been discovered by an Edinburgh-based surgeon, Prof. Elliotson, and the operation was performed according to the Western knowledge of medicine. The Reformer Raja and Dr. Andrew MacPhail together built Pala and initiated the reforms which later developed into, and were recorded in the Old Raja’s Notes on What’s What, and on What it Might be Reasonable to Do About What’s What. Given their background, they would not have been able to carry out their reformative plans if they had not cultivated independent thought and fearless action. This brings us to the twentieth century Western psycho-analytical theories, which had exercised a considerable influence on Huxley’s portrayal of the future – namely, the findings of Freud and Pavlov. Huxley’s opinion of these revolutionary scientists is succinctly given in Island – “By all the rules of the Freudian and Pavlovian games, my great-grandfather ought to have grown up to be a mental cripple. In fact, he grew up to be a mental athlete. Which only shows”, Dr. Robert added parenthetically, “how hopelessly inadequate your two highly touted systems of psychology really are. Freudism and Behaviourism – poles apart but in complete agreement when it comes to the facts of the built-in, congenital differences between individuals. How do your pet psychologists deal with these facts? Very simply. They ignore them. They blandly pretend that the facts aren’t there. Hence their complete inability to cope with the human situation as it really exists, or even to explain it theoretically”.54 As Huxley sees it, if the theories of conditioning are applied at the pace at which they are applied at present, man will be no better than “a mental cripple”. That is exactly what happens when the Pavlovian methods are turned into State policy and become the mainstay of the World State in Brave New World. It results in a clockwork government and a stable society, but any individual thinking and analysing is strongly discouraged, resulting in a country of mental cripples. The point is that a system of conditioning exists in all human societies; in fact, without it, collective life would have been impossible – witness the crude conditioning of the Savage Enclosure, based primarily on ritual and superstition. Pavlovian

216  Huxley’s World View and His Characters conditioning is a scientific system based on a conscious and pre-planned purpose which is imposed on the human mind in a collective manner. This makes it far more effective, and far more organized than any kind of primitive conditioning. It also becomes far more dangerous, because it means that a human being may be conditioned into doing anything – that is, slavery without its torments. However, Huxley is well aware that just as all knowledge can be used for both good and bad purposes, so Pavlovian conditioning can be used well if kept within limits. In Island Vijaya demonstrates how the people get on so well with the local fauna. A suckling child is brought into contact with a parrot, and the words “good, good bird, good parrot” etc. are continually whispered into its ear – Stroke the baby while you’re feeding him; it doubles his pleasure. Then, while he’s sucking and being caressed, introduce him to the animal or person you want him to love. Rub his body against theirs; let there be a warm physical contact between child and love-object. At the same time repeat some word like ‘good’. First he’ll understand only your tone of voice. Later on, when he learns to speak, he’ll get the full meaning. Food plus caress plus contact plus ‘good’ equals love. And love equals pleasure, love equals satisfaction.55 Will Farnaby, the cynic, comments tongue-in-cheek – “Pure Pavlov”. But Vijaya answers at once – But Pavlov purely for a good purpose. Pavlov for friendliness and trust and compassion. Whereas you prefer to use Pavlov for brain-washing. Pavlov for selling cigarettes and vodka and patriotism. Pavlov for the benefit of dictators, generals and tycoons.56 The fault lies not with the theory, but with the practice – this is what Huxley wanted to prove. It is the same with the discovery of “D.F. and A.I”. – “Deep Freeze and Artificial Insemination” – something which is put to such horrific use in Brave New World. The process leads on to its perfection – a place where no babies are born, only decanted, and motherhood is abolished, becoming a term of abuse and ridicule. Along with motherhood also disappears mother love, and child-mother relationship. The process is also used in Pala, but with very different results. Vijaya’s wife, Shanta, is nursing a baby who we later come to know is not Vijaya’s, but a dead man’s, whose sperm had been preserved for future use. Vijaya and Shanta had decided that “it would be fun to have a complete change….to enrich the family with an entirely new physique and temperament” – which means that the variety and conscious creation of individual types is introduced, but without sacrificing human emotions and relationships. Vijaya asserts –

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 217 We developed the techniques of A.I. about twenty years before you did. But of course, we couldn’t do much with it until we had electric power and reliable refrigerators. We got those in the late twenties. Since when we have been using A.I. in a big way.57 And Shanta chimes in – So you see, my baby might grow up to be a painter – that is, if that kind of talent is inherited. And even if it isn’t, he’ll be a lot more endomorphic and viscerotonic than his brothers or either of his parents. Which is going to be very interesting and educative for everybody concerned.58 The West, of course, has also harboured Marxism and Fascism, both of which Huxley considers to be different types of totalitarianism – something which he repudiates vehemently, as being opposed to his ideal of decentralism and pacifism. In spite of China, Marxism is identified with the West by Huxley, and Chinese Taoism and mysticism are given precedence – which identifies China more with Eastern spiritualism and idealism rather than with Western Marxist materialism. Both Marxism and Fascism are represented in Point Counter Point through Webley and Illidge, of whom the former comes to a violent end in accordance with his beliefs, and the latter is an accomplice in bringing about this violent end. Again, in Eyeless in Gaza, Miller and Anthony have to contend with Fascist threats, while the Marxist, Ekki, though sincere and honest in his ideology, has to meet a hard end. Even when we come to Island, the spiritual heaven on the face of the earth, we are never allowed to forget these two kinds of extremism, as Huxley, the priest of moderation, regards them. Quite significantly, the one who is so encumbered by shallow Western concepts, that he cannot understand the all-encompassing, liberal mysticism taught in Pala – Murugan—is responsible for keeping their memory alive. “Look at all the devotion and self-sacrifice!” he says. “We don’t have anything like that here”.59 The Palanese have different opinions about them. Dr. Robert MacPhail calls Hitler “the eloquent rabble-rouser”, and Vijaya describes as thus – Think of the other great dictator, think of Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin. Hitler’s the supreme example of the delinquent Peter Pan. Stalin’s the supreme example of the delinquent Muscle Man. Predestined by his shape to be an extravert. Not one of your soft, round, spill-the-beans extraverts who pine for indiscriminate togetherness. No – the trampling, driving extravert, the one who always feels impelled to Do Something and is never inhibited by doubts or qualms, by sympathy or sensibility. In his will, Lenin advised his successors to get rid of Stalin: the man was too fond of power, and too apt to use it. But the

218  Huxley’s World View and His Characters advice came too late. Stalin was already so firmly entrenched that he couldn’t be ousted…And in the last phase of the War, compare Stalin’s strategy with Hitler’s. cool calculation pitted against compensatory day-dreams, clear eyed realism against the rhetorical nonsense that Hitler had finally talked himself into believing. Two monsters, equal in delinquency, but profoundly dissimilar in temperament, in unconscious motivation, and finally in efficiency. Peter Pans are wonderfully good at starting wars and revolutions; but it tales Muscle Men to carry them through a successful conclusion.60 In Huxley’s way of thinking, the West is the source of two important facets of human society – Science and Individualism – both of which must be kept in control in order to be put to good use by mankind. The effects are disastrous if they get out of hand. The good effects of Science may be felt in the sphere of medicine, sanitation, overall hygiene, and comfort, and also in its ability to improve the conditions of living for the majority of the human race, if it is not hampered by war, greed, and hunger for power. Individualism is not interpreted by Huxley to mean selfishness; rather it refers to the freedom of the individual to think and act without constraint. “Individualism” means to educate people in such a manner that it will create individuals that are “non-attached, but active and responsible”. These individuals will not join a rat-race for accumulating more and more money and power, as in capitalist countries, but will rather come together to build a society based on co-operation and common progress – as in Pala, or in the miniature society run by Propter in After Many a Summer. The aim of mankind should be to evolve a “non-­ attached and decentralized society’, as is explained in Ends and Means, for the complete development of the individual, for each individual is just as much important as the other. And such a society becomes impossible if war is not abolished first, because “in order to prepare effectively for modern war, political power will have to be more highly centralized, self-governing institutions progressively abolished, opinion more strictly controlled and education militarized”.61 As Huxley sees it, just as organized warfare is an invention of the West, so the concept of individualism, of totalitarianism, is more typical of the East. The two must be brought together so that they may be tempered to form better and more effective societies which will benefit every man, not merely a handful of dictators. That is why Propter tries to be free and self-sufficient, even to the extent of generating his own electricity. That is why, too, Miller moves around alone, using his medical knowledge to alleviate suffering, and preaching his doctrine of pacifism to whoever he meets. All Huxley’s guru figures are modelled on his philosophy of life, which in turn, is modelled on his conviction in individualism and pacifism. Thus, just as we have a set of characters in the futuristic novels who represent war, destruction, and

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 219 totalitarianism, so we also have certain individuals who represent the opposite. Thus, in spite of the engaging story lines, the novels never lose sight of their doctrinal purpose. The East Contrary to the general pursuit of the philosophy of meaninglessness, there was in the first half of the twentieth century, a small minority of elitist intellectuals, who did see the futility of this pursuit, and attempted to counter it by an intensive study not only of the greatest of Western philosophers in order to understand the meaning of existence but also of Eastern thought, which was becoming increasingly popular in the West. Eliot’s and Yeats’s study of Eastern mysticism is well- known, and Huxley was one with them in this regard. To Huxley, the East was not only synonymous with superstition, unhygienic conditions, and totalitarianism but also with non-­attachment and mysticism. In novel after novel we are shown both sides of the picture through different sets of characters. In Antic Hay there are no oriental references as such, but Gumbril Senior is shown to display that spirit of non-attachment which Huxley admired generally in Eastern thought, and more particularly in Gandhian asceticism. The wonderful model of the city of London, with St. Paul’s Cathedral dominating the center, which Gumbril took so much pride in, and which was, indeed, the product of years of planning and creation – is sold by him without a backward glance in order to help a friend, Mr. Pordage. Such non-attachment, though in this novel it is not identified as such, is indeed exemplary. In Point Counter Point, we are directly taken to the East for the first time in the novels. We are shown the last few days of Philip and Elinor Quarles’s stay in India before they return to England. And in the short account given of this stay, both of Huxley’s view of the East are cleverly juxtaposed. Mr. Sita Ram is the blustering, shallow, hypocritical talker, who apes the West, and has very wrong priorities. He speaks of the lack of justice in India – “Dere is one law for de English, and anoder for de Indians, one for de oppressors and anoder for de oppressed”.62 – and at the same time studies Burke, Bacon, Milton, and Macaulay. He is very concerned about universal suffrage and self-government, and quite unconcerned about large families, unscientific childbirth with the help of mid-wives, and unhygienic living conditions. Just another kind of Indian (one whom Philip Quarles has a great reverence for) is Daulat Singh – a man with a noble old face, bright eyes, and a restrained passion in his words. And yet in Point Counter Point Quarles’s interest in India is still only on the surface level, for he is relieved at escaping from “old, appalling India”, and from questions of justice and liberty and progress and the future. “What a comfort it will be to be back in Europe again!” he sighs. “Indian civilization, Indian spirituality, Indian moral superiority”

220  Huxley’s World View and His Characters leave him unmoved, and he calls himself a fool for having once read books about yoga, and done breathing exercises, and tried to persuade himself that he “didn’t really exist”63. Yet though Quarles is appalled by Indian conditions, the fact that Huxley is genuinely interested in Indian philosophy and spirituality has already been evident in Those Barren Leaves, where Calamy, once a pleasure-seeker like anyone else in Cybo Malaspina, renounces worldly life and disappears into the mountains in search of spiritual peace and ultimate knowledge. This renunciation is not the highly organized Christian renunciation, but more of the type of the Indian hermit. In fact, Calamy’s observations on Salvation are hardly Christian at all – Salvation’s not in the next world; it’s in this. One doesn’t behave well here for the sake of a harp and wings after one is dead – or even for the sake of contemplating throughout eternity the good, the true and the beautiful. If one desires salvation, it’s salvation here and now. The kingdom of God is within you – if you’ll excuse the quotation…the conquest of that kingdom, now, in this life – that’s your salvationist’s ambition. There may be a life to come, or there may be not; it’s really quite irrelevant to the main issue. To be upset that the soul may decay with the body is really medieval….etc. etc.64 And he acknowledges his Indian debt here – Seen from the medieval point of view, the prospect is most disquieting. The Indians – and for that matter, the founder of Christianity – supply the corrective with the doctrine of salvation in this life, irrespective of the life to come. Each man can achieve salvation in his own way.65 Which strongly reminds us of the various paths to salvation discussed in the Bhagwad Gita. In Brave New World the Eastern and Western are fixed on two diametrically opposite poles – Westernism is taken to its extreme in a totally scientific, hygienic, superficial existence, where the people are conditioned to fit the work chalked out by the Ten World Controllers; on the other hand, Easternism in its extreme, is shown as primitivism, lacking in even the basic knowledge of hygiene and medicine, but having a surfeit of both superstitious cults and spiritual pursuits. The Savage, brought up in the latter set-up, is therefore bemused and wonder-struck at the beauty and cleanliness of the inhabitants of the World State, but is unable to regard these features as important enough to override purity of soul, to which he attaches the utmost importance. Quite unexpectedly, therefore, he regards the beauty of outward appearances as the Devil’s handiwork, designed to tempt and corrupt, while internal wisdom and knowledge of the Ultimate, though entailing suffering, is nevertheless preferable. The

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 221 extreme to which Westernism is taken becomes a horrifying prospect with the development of the novel, and when Science rules men, rather than vice versa, it rather seems as if the Machine Hell has finally come to reign. On the other hand, to an inhabitant of the World State, to Bernard Marx or Lenina, the Indian Enclosure is Hell. Actually, opinions of Hell and Heaven are dependent on what a man has been conditioned to believe. An Indian gives far more value to the spirit than to the body, and the body becomes all-important to inhabitants of the World State. In neither case is an even mean reached. The World State, however, has imported one thing from the East – soma – which is an intoxicant with all the beneficial properties of alcohol, without the side-effects. The very concept of soma is Indian, but the use the World State makes of it is quite devoid of its associations in Indian mythology. That is why the food of the gods becomes an instrument used by the World Controllers to condition human beings into behaving in a stipulated manner. It is a Westernized version of soma, used for physical enjoyment, and not for the heightening of the spirit and the self-­effacement which were originally associated with it. Some kind of unification between Eastern and Western is effected in Eyeless in Gaza through Miller. But here much of the Eastern thought is not identified as such. However, there are instances where Eastern thought is directly referred to, as in the following – At today’s lesson with Miller found myself suddenly a step forward in my grasp of the theory and practice of the technique. To learn proper use one must first inhibit all improper uses of the self….In Evan Wentz’s last book on Tibet I find among The Precepts of the Gurus the injunction: “Constantly retain alertness of consciousness in walking, in sitting, in eating, in sleeping”. An injunction, like most injunctions, unaccompanied by instructions as to the right way of carrying it out. Here practical instructions accompany injunctions; one is taught how to become aware. And not only that. Also how to perform rightly, instead of wrongly, the activities of which there is awareness. Nor is this all. Awareness and power of control are transferable.66 Apart from being taken from Tibetan philosophy – which is predominantly Buddhist in its roots, this stress on awareness of the self and the correct use of the physical body can also be traced to the Tantric religion of India, and the concept of Maithuna, of which Huxley made so effective a use in Island. Miller highly praises not only this but also the Buddhist life-style as a whole, rejecting other religions in the process – Look at the correlation of religion and diet. Christians eat meat, drink alcohol, smoke tobacco; and Christianity exalts personality, insists on the value of petitionary prayer, teaches that God feels anger and

222  Huxley’s World View and His Characters approves the persecution of heretics. It is the same with the Jews and the Moslems. Khosher and an indignant Jehovah. Mutton and beef – and personal survival among the houris, avenging Allah and holy wars. Now look at the Buddhists. Vegetable and water. And what’s their philosophy? They don’t exalt personality; they try to transcend it. They don’t imagine that God can be angry; when they are enlightened, they think he doesn’t exist, except as an impersonal mind of the universe. Hence they don’t offer petitionary prayer, they meditate – or in other words, try to merge their own minds in the universal mind. Finally, they don’t believe in special provisions for individuals; they believe in a moral order, where every event has a cause and produces its effect – where the card’s forced upon you by the conjurer, but only because your previous actions have forced the conjurer to force it on you. What worlds away from the Jehovah and God the Father and everlasting, individual souls! The fact is, of course, that we think as we eat. I eat like a Buddhist, because I find it keeps me well and happy; and the result is that I think like a Buddhist – and thinking like a Buddhist, I am confirmed in my determination to eat like one.67 Though not as directly as Island, Eyeless in Gaza through Miller, does advocate the meditative and Buddhist way of life. Anthony’s last thoughts before the penultimate Pacifist meeting verges on unity – Frenzy of evil and separation. In peace there is unity. Unity with other lives. Unity with all being. For beneath all being, beneath all the countless identical but separate patterns, beneath the attractions and repulsions, lies peace.68 This unity with the rest of creation is what is essential in all Eastern doctrines – Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism alike. Philip Bowering’s essay on Time Must Have a Stop deals almost entirely with Huxley’s use of the Tibetan Book of the Dead in connection with Eustace Barnack’s after-death experiences – The Bardo Thodol was not as widely read then as it is today and it is difficult to imagine what could be made of Eustace’s after-death experience without, at least, some knowledge of Huxley’s source material. The Bardo Thodol or the Tibetan Book of the Dead (first published in translation in 1927) is a Mahayana Buddhist text describing the intermediate state between death and rebirth. It was originally conceived as a breviary to be recited by the priest on the occasion of death and it is probably the most comprehensive treatise on the art of dying extant today. There are innumerable references to the Bardo throughout Huxley’s works: for Jeremy Pordage in After Many a Summer it was one of the “significant books” next to

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 223 Patanjali and the Pseudo-Dionysius. This was Huxley’s own view and by dramatizing its essential message in Time Must Have a Stop he was attempting to revive interest in what he considered to be another important aspect of the neglected wisdom of the past.69 The Bardo Thodol is a three-part text, comprising of the Chikai Bardo (describing the happenings immediately after death); the Chonyid Bardo (dealing with karmic visions and hallucinations); and the Sidpa Bardo (dealing with the events leading up to reincarnation). Eustace Barnack’s experiences correspond to the observations made in the first book, the Chikai Bardo, which says that the person, immediately after death, is faced with the Dharma Kaya or Clear Light of the Void, which is the embodiment of “the Divine Ground or immanent Godhead of the Christian mystics”.70 Spiritual immaturity or inadequate understanding of this Godhead leads the deceased on to the other stages of the death-experience. The moment in which life ends is the highest point in the birth-and-rebirth cycle, bringing a person nearest to his final goal, which may only be attained if he has earned the necessary spiritual maturity in the life that has just passed away. But this is just what Eustace Barnack cannot attain, because the intense hedonism of the life that he has lived prevents him from developing the spirit to its fullest potential. A glimpse of the Sidpa Bardo, which is his final fate, is given by the séance conducted by Mrs. Gamble, where he thinks with yearning for a corporeal body, and begins to see scenes of copulation – an integral part of the Sidpa Bardo experience – denoting the inevitability of a rebirth for the deceased individual. In Time Must Have a Stop, therefore, Huxley is using Eastern philosophy to reiterate what he has been repeating in every novel – that the increasing pampering of the physical self leads to a corresponding decrease in the awareness of spiritual reality. In Eyeless in Gaza, Mary Amberley’s total physicalization of life later results in her mental and spiritual deterioration, which, again, is reflected on her body, bringing in an ugliness and dirtiness which had not been inherent in it earlier. Similarly, in After Many a Summer, there is the suggestion that the decay and death of the body is an anticipation of the realization of spiritual truths in the after-life. Consequently, if the body is not allowed to decay and die, as in the case of the Fifth Earl of Gonister, spiritual awareness fades away, and the body drifts down in the evolutionary ladder. Ape and Essence takes care to show how the world “has made the worst” of both Eastern and Western qualities – “So the East takes Western nationalism, Western armaments, Western movies, and Western Marxism; the West takes Eastern despotism, Eastern superstitions, and Eastern indifference to individual life. In a word, he saw to it that mankind should make the worst of both worlds”.71 As such, the drawbacks of Eastern civilization – the despotism, illustrated in the rites and rituals of the Belial cult, and the indifference to individual life, as illustrated

224  Huxley’s World View and His Characters in their idea of democracy, which means community living, community love, community destruction of deformed babies, and also community burial squads if the rules are broken – are those which are emphasized. Huxley’s deep admiration for Eastern thought and religion, especially the Buddhist and Tantric faiths, is reflected most in Island, where the characters are living illustrations of the best features of both the West and the East. Pala itself is an Eastern island, “within five degrees of the Equator”.72 There could be a question about why Huxley chose an Eastern location rather than a Western, when he was aiming to show a perfect amalgamation of the two. Perhaps he felt that the East, being less sophisticated and snobbish, would keep its characteristic qualities even while imbibing the best of the Western, whereas the West is far more rigid in its ideas, being less prone to accepting Eastern thought and tradition. The people of Pala, therefore, are born to Eastern tradition, later gradually taking the best of Western scientific developments and town planning through Dr. MacPhail. Eastern tradition in Pala is not bound to a single stream of thought or religion. It is a combination of Chinese, Indian, and Tibetan traditions, with the most emphasis afforded to Buddhism and the Tantric faith. The philosophy of the Upanishads plays an important role in the religious and social life of the Palanese. Brave New World was first published in 1932. In 1946, Huxley adds a foreword to the novel, expressing his dissatisfaction at the manner in which he had written the novel, and declaring that if he had re-written it, he would have provided a sane alternative to the “two horns of the dilemma” – the scientific dystopia, or the life of primitivism – which the novel affords. The true Utopia would be as follows – In this community economics would be decentralist and HenryGeorgian, politics Kropotkinesque and co-operative. Science and technology would be used as though, like the Sabbath, they had been made for man, not (as at present, and still more so in the Brave New World) as though man were to be adapted and enslaved to them. Religion would be the conscious and intelligent pursuit of man’s Final End, the unitive knowledge of the immanent Tao or Logos, the transcendent Godhead or Brahman. And the prevailing philosophy of life would be a kind of Higher Utilitarianism, in which the Greatest Happiness principle would be secondary to the Final End principle – the first question to be asked and answered in every contingency of life being: “How will this thought and action contribute to or interfere with, the achievement, by me and the greatest possible number of other individuals, of man’s Final End?”73 The religion and philosophy of this Utopia, therefore, are based on Eastern traditions, as also in the education system, which transmits this philosophy down the generations.

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 225 The religion of Pala, according to Ranga, is – “We’re Mahayanists, and our Buddhism is shot through and through with Tantra”, and he calls himself “a Tantra agnostic with Mahayana trimmings”. The Palanese, however, do not accept anything blindly, and Tantra, too, is used with caution – Tantra’s an enormous subject and most of it, I guess, is just silliness and superstition – not worth bothering about. But there is a hard core of sense. If you’re a Tantric, you don’t renounce the world or deny its value; you don’t try to escape into a Nirvana apart from life, as the monks of the southern school do. No, you accept the world. And you make use of it, you make use of everything you do, of everything that happens to you, of all the things you see and hear and taste and touch, as so many means to your liberation from the prison of yourself.74 Ranga is speaking for the Palanese and their social system. He defends his philosophy in relation to Western philosophy and asserts that Western metaphysics offers the reader no way of testing the truth of its theories. On the other hand, metaphysics in Pala revolves around actual reality – it says nothing which is not followed up with a list of operations that can be used for testing its validity. The heart of his philosophy is Tat tvam asi – “Know who in fact you are – and believe it or not, Tat tvam asi – Thou art That, and so am I; That is me….and That’s also him”.75 Moreover, Ranga also lists the beneficence of having avoided being colonized by the West – No harbour, no Portuguese. Therefore no Catholic minority, no blasphemous nonsense about it being God’s will that people should breed themselves into subhuman misery, no organized resistance to birth control. And that isn’t our only blessing: after a hundred and twenty years of the Portuguese, Ceylon and Rendang got the Dutch. And after the Dutch came the English. We escaped both these infestations. No Dutch, no English, and therefore no planters, no coolie labour, no cash crops for export, no systematic exhaustion of our soil. Also no whisky, no Calvinism, no syphilis, no foreign administrators. We were left to go on our own way and take responsibility for our own affairs.76 Which again underlines the feeling that the benefits of Western culture should be carefully imbibed by the Eastern, and that colonization does more harm than good. After all, colonization is primarily a Western prerogative. Also strongly contrasted with Western tradition and intensely connected with the philosophy of Tat tvam asi is the concept of Maithuna – the yoga of love – taken directly from the Tantric faith. In Maithuna, there is no basic difference between profane love and sacred love and is based on the concept of Buddhatvan yoshidhyonisansritan – that is,

226  Huxley’s World View and His Characters “Buddhaness is in the yoni” – the female sex symbol. Indeed, as Radha insists, Maithuna is a yoga as good as Raja yoga or Karma yoga or Bhakti yoga (all enumerated in detail in the Bhagwad Gita); in fact, it is a good deal better than they. Maithuna, in fact, is dhyana or contemplation. It is taught to the Palanese from childhood instead of moral restraint. And it is just another way of teaching them the proper use of their bodies. The result is a complete development of body and mind, aimed towards “self-knowing” – “No Alcatrazes here…. No Billy Grahams or Mao Tsetungs or Madonnas of Fatima. No hells on earth and no Christian pie in the sky, no Communist pie in the twenty-second century. Just men and women and their children trying to make the best of the here and now, instead of living somewhere else, as you people mostly do, in some other time, some other home-made imaginary universe”.77 Will Farnaby automatically remembers how he had had no real love for his wife Molly, who had been meaninglessly killed in an accident when she had walked out of the house because Will had been having an affair with Babs, a woman who had “the right kind of body”, but who did not in the least love, or even have a satisfying sexual relationship with him. The world that Will lives in is one of endless ambition and total dissatisfaction. As Will describes it – You know those little pale worms with black heads that one sees on rotten meat. Nothing has changed, of course; people’s faces were the same, their clothes were the same. And yet they were all maggots. Not even real maggots – just the ghost of maggots, just the illusion of maggots. And I was the illusion of the spectator of maggots. I lived in that maggot-world for months. Lived in it, worked in it, went out to lunch and dinner in it – all without the least interest in what I was doing.78 The difference between the maggot-infested civilization from which Will comes, and the Pala society based on Eastern wisdom is made evident in every layer of the novel. For instance, we have the attitude to snakes, as pointed out by Shanta to Will. She first points to a stone Buddha set against a wall, which, Will notices on looking intently, has the figure of a huge, coiled snake shading its enormous hood over the head of the contemplative Buddha. According to the myth, this snake, Muchalinda, had sheltered the Tathagatha from a dreadful storm. “How very different”, Will says, “from our view of snakes!” And he quotes from the Bible – “I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between her seed and thy seed”. Shanta gives her view of this – But wisdom never puts enmity anywhere. All those senseless, pointless cock-fights between Man and Nature, between Nature and God, between the flesh and the spirit! Wisdom doesn’t make those insane separations.79

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 227 Likewise, in the society which Will comes from, boys and girls are “for mass consumption. And the corollaries of mass consumption are mass communications, mass advertising, mass opiates in the form of television, meprobamate, positive thinking, and cigarettes”. In Pala they are – “neither for mass consumption, nor for strengthening the state…They are for…actualisation, for being turned into full-blown human-beings.80 In the novel, therefore, Will becomes the typical representative of the “maggot-infested” civilization outside Pala and represents all its faults, including the terrible avarice which induces him to be instrumental in the downfall of the people he has grown to love, and whose civilization he knows to be far superior than the one he is treacherously replacing it with. Being representative of a faulty civilization, he is made to represent its faults only, and is yet shown to have virtue enough to realise those faults, and also the faults of people like Murugan and his mother, the Rani. He, however, does not have enough virtue to rectify those faults and is content to remain flawed and to despise himself for it. Even while he writes the pernicious letter to Joe Aldehyde, spelling the doom of Pala, he feels a twinge of conscience, but comforts himself at the same time by telling himself that if he did not do it, someone else would. The people of Pala are no doubt, charming young people”, but the greatest fault in their delineation is that there is very little variety among them. There is plenty of difference in appearance, but almost none at all in nature and character. Even the children speak in the same way as Shanta or Ranga or Radha speak. Sometimes we do hear of a child coming home dirty or grubby, or making a mess at the table, or bringing lizards into the house; but on the whole, there is very little of the child in them. For example, Mary Sarojini not only teaches Will at the very beginning the right way to conquer pain but also calmly tells him about boys and girls sleeping together – “it was evident that boys and girls sleeping together was as completely to be taken for granted as going to school or eating three meals a day – or dying”.81 Ranga, Radha, Shanta, Dr. MacPhail, Vijaya, Mr. Menon – all of them take Will round Pala, showing him its various aspects, and pointing out the differences between this society and Will’s own. But their manner of speaking, their calmness and patience, and their restraint, are identical. The meaning of life, the best way to live, and the philosophy of existence, are taught to young children from the time they can speak properly, and knowledge through experience is brought to a minimum. They, therefore, act, speak, and behave like each other from a very young age. This is probably the price that perfection has to pay – the loss of variety. The people of Pala, however, have other means of bringing variety into their lives – rites, rituals, purpose in life, assigned duties, etc. But perfection has only one face, and that face is seen everywhere one looks in Pala. The allegation of flatness in character is therefore nowhere so true as in

228  Huxley’s World View and His Characters Island, even though as a philosophy of life, this novel takes precedence over the others. Oriental philosophy forms the heart of Palanese civilization, and all the best in Taoist, Tantric, and Mahayanist faiths come together in this small island. Yet, as in all his other novels, Huxley does not forget to remind us of the other side of Eastern thought – the dangers of a wrong interpretation, misunderstanding, and a wrong system of spiritualism – all of these being represented in the figure of the Rani. The Rani is “psychic as hell” (in Will’s words), she is always assigning everything to the Divine Master (according to the typical Eastern belief in predestination), and all her mercenary and traitorous plans are the result of the Little Voice within her, which tells her what to do, and what is Right and Wrong. “Does your Little Voice tell you anything about South-East Asia Petroleum?” Will asks her. The irony is lost to her, and after listening intently for the Voice, she nods and says, “Distinctly”. And yet she strongly maintains – “I could no more do without meditation than I could do without Food”.82 And in the typical rhetorical bombast of such “spiritual” people, she tells the story of how her Master, Koot Hoomi, called her one day, telling her that – A great crusade is to be launched….A World-Movement to save Humanity from self-destruction. And you, my child, are the Appointed Instrument.83 She also speaks of how she first came to find the Path through the influence of “Darling Mme. Buloz”, the Theosophist, and how she came to attain the Fourth Initiation. Of course, Theosophy first originated in the West, and the Rani came by it when she was in Switzerland. It is also true that the concept of a Supreme Divine Master guiding our actions is also a part of Western religion. However, this false spiritualism is encoated in Eastern register, and while denouncing the Palanese system of an older woman teaching Special Techniques of sex to younger boys, particularly to her son, Murugan, the Rani speaks of the Ideal of Purity and Brahmacharya. The reality of this Ideal is brought home to us when we realize that she condones a homosexual relationship between her son and Col. Dipa, and repudiates the system which allows a boy’s education to be taken in hand by a woman, because “the woman might supplant her; the Colonel, she knew, would not”.84 Again, when Will banters about “that departed stock-broker, who always knew what the market was going to do next week”, she indulgently says – Sidhis. Just sidhis. What else can you expect? After all, he’s only a Beginner. And in this present life business is his karma. He was predestined to do what he has done, what he’s doing, what he’s going to

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 229 do…what he’s going to do – that’s what my Little Voice is saying – includes some great and wonderful things here in Pala.85 Apart from the gradual development of Huxley’s philosophy towards Eastern modes of thought in the novels, the one philosophy which dominates in all the novels without exception, and gains in strength as the novels move closer towards the Second World War, is the philosophy of non-violence and pacifism, which he strongly asserts as being essentially Eastern. In the essay entitled War, he discusses the nature and causes of war, where most of the causes are assigned to Western influence – such as Nationalism, Capitalism, the religion of the state, and the urge to possess the better climate and fertile territory of another country. Here he compares the Western attitude to war with the Eastern – Compare the Chinese and Indian attitudes towards war with the European. Europeans have always worshipped the military hero and, since the rise of Christianity, the martyr. Not so the Chinese…. Since the time of Confucius and Lao Tsu, Chinese ideals have been essentially pacifist. European poets have glorified war, European theologians have found justifications for religious persecution and nationalist aggression. This has not been so in China. Chinese philosophers and Chinese poets have almost all been anti-militarists… Indian pacifism finds its completest expression in the teaching of Buddha. Buddhism, like Hinduism, teaches ahimsa, or harmlessness towards all living beings. It forbids even laymen to have anything to do with the manufacture and sale of arms, with the making of poisons and intoxicants, with the soldiering or the slaughter of animals. Alone of all the great world religions, Buddhism made its way without persecution, censorship or inquisition. In all these respects its record is enormously superior to that of Christianity, which made its way among people wedded to militarism and which was able to justify the blood-thirsty tendencies of its adherents by an appeal to the savage Bronze-age literature of the Old Testament.86 In the essay Ethics, he reiterates the same view – “I must repeat, for the thousandth time, that the tree is known by its fruits. The fruits of such doctrines as are taught by Eckhart, the author of The Cloud and the oriental mystics whom they so closely resemble, are peace, toleration, and charity”.87 Huxley believed that the Western inclination towards large-scale, organized warfare, and political domination emerges to a large extent from their religion. That is probably why the religion of his Utopia is “Tantric with Mahayana trimmings”, which emphasizes knowledge of the self, oneness with nature, and pacifism (the Palanese make no weapons, and are finally overrun by those infinitely more inferior people who

230  Huxley’s World View and His Characters do make them). However, much before he wrote Island, he had already pinpointed Mahatma Gandhi as the symbol of pacifism and non-violence, and declared his whole-hearted support for his philosophy (in A Note on Gandhi). As mentioned earlier, Gandhi as a symbol is seen at its most effective in Ape and Essence, which begins with Gandhi’s assassination, a symbol of the assassination of everything rational, non-­violent, peaceable, and progressive in mankind. It is the death of Gandhi, and the subsequent indifference of the people to what Huxley feels is an earth-shaking event, which later gives way to the society of Belial which emerges after World War III. It is Gandhi as a symbol which stands between rationality and mindlessness, between progress and reaction, between creation and life and its wild destruction. Huxley does not like Communism; he has a deep aversion to the violence which necessarily accompanies it. That is why Ekki in Eyeless in Gaza, despite being an honest, sincere, likeable person with high ideals, must ultimately die, falling a prey to arch-enemies, the Nazis. Likewise, Huxley dislikes Fascism for its totalitarianism and tendency towards violence. After all, he is contemporary of Mussolini and Hitler and has been a direct witness of both World Wars. Nor does he advocate Capitalism, because of its inexorable materialism, industrialization, and organized bigotry in the name of religion. So what does Huxley advocate? Through what he has told us in Ends and Means, and through the various guru figures in his novels, Huxley believes in a particular type of decentralized society which theoretically is closest to Gandhian socialism, and is based on a unity between Capitalist science and ancient spiritualism; between all faiths and religions; and between East and West, without their drawbacks. He strongly believes that “the political road to a better society….is the road of decentralization and responsible self-government”. But at the same time, such a government is impossible in any present-day civilized nation for the precise reason that “no society which is preparing for war can afford to be anything but highly centralized”.88 In an ideal society, he believes, the individual will be “incorporated in a responsible, self-governing group”89, and to his mind, “individuals can work alone or in association with other likeminded individuals”90 through co-operatives or other such associations based on the same philosophy of life and the same whole-hearted determination to accomplish a particular goal. Such co-operation of likeminded individuals is best illustrated by the Christian and Buddhist monasteries. But the element of Gandhian socialism comes in Huxley’s view that “all over the world and at all times associations of devoted individuals have exhibited one common characteristic: property has been held in common and all members have been vowed to personal poverty”.91 Riches, luxury, and the amassing of private property are incompatible with his Utopia. Rather, what are necessary are noble ends and high ideals. Gandhi’s Sevagram was based on this concept.

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 231 Huxley’s Utopia is essentially socialist – “Individual members should possess nothing and everything – nothing as individuals, everything as joint owners of communally-held property and communally-produced income”.92 But it is not a socialism which discounts the individual, or admits to centralization of rule. In the novels this kind of socialist concept is expounded first by Propter in After Many a Summer, who builds up a society which is far as possible self-dependent. He even builds his own power plant so that he does not have to depend on the government for the little electricity he consumes. His resources are not great, and certainly far below those of his rival, the Capitalist Jo Stoyte; but his sense of self-respect and dedication to the community that he has developed is so great, that lack of riches does not actually pose too great a problem. Moreover, since he produces most of his immediate necessities, he does not really need too much money. And of course, Island shows the culmination of the concept that “Individual members should possess nothing and everything – nothing as individuals, everything as joint owners of communally-held property and communally-produced income”. The people of Pala are therefore divided into two types – those who believe in and work for Huxley’s concept of the ideal, and those who do not being an insular society, those who belong to it are mostly of the first type, realizing the essential advantage and superiority of such a society as compared to the world outside. The second type is composed of the Rani, her son, and their associates, who are more influenced by the imperfect outside world, and instrumental in forcing it on the perfection in Pala, and finally annihilating it. Non-violence, therefore, must find a way of protecting itself, or there is little possibility of its being able to stand up against the terrible power of the gun. The Union It is a matter of great regret that Huxley is a writer who, by the beginning of the twenty-first century, has been relegated to universities and research scholars. Over-intellectualism is certainly one of the reasons, but it must also be remembered that he is intellectual in an intellectual age. He is a writer who is one of the strongest preachers of spiritualism in an age which is slowly moving towards the World-State of Brave New World – a physical world, totally lacking in emotions and spirit. In the Indian context, especially, Huxley should be encouraged, and his message be allowed to spread, for in forwarding the notion of East-West brotherhood, there is no equal. It is not the brotherhood shown by Forster or Kipling, or the cynical brotherhood envisaged by Will Farnaby in Island – So East is East and West is West – for the moment. But the twain may meet in one of two ways. West may get so frightened of East

232  Huxley’s World View and His Characters that it will give up thinking that boys and girls are for mass consumption and decide instead that they are for cannon-fodder and strengthening the state. Alternatively East may find itself under such pressure from the appliance-hungry masses who long to go Western, that it will have to change its mind and say that boys and girls are really for mass consumption.93 Huxley’s brotherhood is that of ideas, of thoughts, of the best in both cultures. He does not declare that “East is East and West is West”; rather, he tries to show that East and West may come together to produce a culture far superior to anything we have so far witnessed. Huxley is not a blind admirer of the East, as has already been pointed out; rather, he takes pains to express his contempt for the superstition, dirtiness, and disease prevalent in Eastern culture. Likewise, he has a horror of organized violence (with which the modern world is regretfully too familiar), of subservience to the machine, of the physicalization of life, that are characteristic of the West. But all said and done, Huxley’s “gurus” show how the best may be brought out in mankind, if only they relinquish warfare, and accept each other with an open mind. Huxley’s characters may be one-sided, propagandist, and intellectualised, but they are the best expressions of his philosophy of life, his message on mankind, of his visions of the future, both good and bad. Huxley is a writer with a vision and a message, which he cannot but express. Rather than regarding his work as merely didactic, and his characters as mere puppets carrying out a debate, it is better to regard them as so many ways of painting a picture of the teeming variety of life, and his own opinion of how it can be improved. Mankind to Huxley is precious, forever pledged to attain greater and greater heights of evolution. And mankind is one. Not broken up by petty boundaries or artificial divisions, or what he calls “Neolithic religions”. His characters show the ways in which man slips back or goes forward in this long climb to perfection.

Notes 1 Aldous Huxley, On the Margin (London, Chatto & Windus, 1956), pp. 201–202. 2 Aldous Huxley, Music at Night (London, Chatto & Windus, 1949), p. 219. 3 Mikail Bakhtin, The Dialogic Imagination, chapter entitled, From the Pre-History of Novelistic Discourse (1940). 4 Aldous Huxley, Antic Hay (Middlesex, Penguin Books, 1955), p. 94. 5 Ibid, p. 95. 6 Ibid, p. 99. 7 Ibid, p. 106. 8 Ibid, p. 110. 9 Aldous Huxley, Crome Yellow (London, Chatto & Windus, 1952), p. 2. 10 Ibid, pp. 24–25.

Huxley’s World View and His Characters 233 11 Aldous Huxley, Those Barren Leaves (Middlesex, Penguin Books, 1955), p. 233. 12 Huxley, Antic Hay, p. 189. 13 Ibid, pp. 157–158. 14 Huxley, Those Barren Leaves, p. 20. 15 Ibid, pg. 25. 16 Huxley, Those Barren Leaves, pp. 8–9. 17 Huxley, Antic Hay, p. 49. 18 Ibid, p. 58. 19 Ibid, p. 56. 20 Ibid, p. 224. 21 Ibid, p. 18. 22 Ibid, p. 133. 23 Ibid, p. 135. 24 Aldous Huxley, Ends and Means (London, Chatto & Windus, 1957), p. 127. 25 Ibid, p. 128. 26 Ibid, p. 129. 27 Ibid, pp. 159–160. 28 Christopher Isherwood, The Problem of the Religious Novel in Vedanta for the Modern Man (London, Allen & Unwin, 1952), p. 248. 29 Peter Bowering, Aldous Huxley – A Study of the Major Novels (London, The University, 1970), p. 160. 30 Aldous Huxley, Time Must Have a Stop (London, Chatto & Windus, 1957), Chap. XXX. 31 Aldous Huxley, After Many a Summer (Middlesex, Penguin Books, 1955), p. 105. 32 Ibid, pp. 162–163. 33 Kishore Gandhi, Aldous Huxley – The Search for a Perennial Religion (London, Arnold Heinemann, 1980), p. 46. 34 Huxley, After Many a Summer, pp. 156–157. 35 Ibid, p. 85. 36 Ibid, p. 250. 37 Ibid, pp. 250–251. 38 Aldous Huxley, Time Must Have a Stop, Chap. XXX. 39 Aldous Huxley, After Many a Summer, p. 109. 40 Lawrence Brander, Aldous Huxley – A Critical Study (London, Rupert Hart-Davis, 1970), p. 106. 41 Aldous Huxley, Time Must Have a Stop, Chap. VII. 42 Ibid, Chap. XXX. 43 Aldous Huxley, The Devils of Loudon (London, Chatto & Windus, 1952), p. 349. 44 Julian Huxley (ed.), Aldous Huxley – A Memorial Volume (London, Chatto & Windus, 1965), p. 20. 45 Huxley, Ends and Means, p. 65. 46 Ibid. 47 Aldous Huxley, The Perennial Philosophy (London, Chatto & Windus, 1957), p. 229. 48 Aldous Huxley, Limbo (London, Chatto & Windus, 1950), p. 86. 49 Aldous Huxley, Ape and Essence (N.Y., Bantam Modern Classics, 1968), pp. 125–126. 50 Aldous Huxley, Ape and Essence (N.Y., Bantam Modern Classics, 1968), pp. 125–126.

234  Huxley’s World View and His Characters

51 Ibid, p. 70. 52 Aldous Huxley, Island (Suffolk, Panther Books, 1976), p. 136. 53 Huxley, Ape and Essence, p. 73. 54 Huxley, Island, pp. 138–139. 55 Ibid, p. 222. 56 Ibid, p. 222. 57 Ibid, p. 219. 58 Ibid, p. 219. 59 Ibid, p. 172. 60 Ibid, p. 179. 61 Huxley, Ends and Means, pp. 50–51. 62 Aldous Huxley, Point Counter Point (London, Flamingo Modern Classics, 1994), p. 69. 63 Ibid, p. 71. 64 Huxley, Those Barren Leaves, p. 309. 65 Ibid. 66 Aldous Huxley, Eyeless in Gaza (London, Flamingo Modern Classics, 1994), pp. 212–213. 67 Ibid, pp. 366–367. 68 Ibid, p. 408. 69 Peter Bowering, Aldous Huxley – A Study of the Major Novels, p. 160. 70 Ibid. 71 Huxley, Ape and Essence, p. 137. 72 Huxley, Island, p. 20. 73 Huxley, Brave New World, Foreword, p. ix. 74 Huxley, Island, pp. 86–87. 75 Ibid, p. 89. 76 Ibid, pp. 94–95. 77 Ibid, p. 111. 78 Ibid, p. 115. 79 Ibid, p. 226. 80 Ibid, pp. 236–237. 81 Ibid, p. 284. 82 Ibid, p. 60. 83 Ibid, p. 60. 84 Ibid, p. 64. 85 Ibid, p. 68. 86 Huxley, Ends and Means, pp. 92–93. 87 Ibid, pp. 328–329. 88 Ibid, p. 63. 89 Ibid, p. 81. 90 Ibid, p. 128. 91 Ibid, p. 130. 92. Ibid, p. 131. 93 Huxley, Island, p. 237.

Bibliography

Background Reading Alan Pryce-Jones, Prose Literature – 1945-1950 (Published for the British Council by London, Longmans, Green & Co., 1951). Arnold Kettle, An Introduction to the English Novel (London, Hutchinson, 1953). C.S. Butler, Early Modernism – Literature, Music, and Painting in Europe (Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1994). C.W. Watson, Multiculturalism (Buckingham, Viva Books, 2002). D.J. Enright, & Ernst de Chickera (ed), English Critical Texts (New Delhi, Oxford University Press, 1962). David Lodge, The Language of Fiction (London, Routledge, 1966)). David Lyon, Postmodernity (Buckingham, Viva Books, 2002). E.M. Forster, Aspects of the Novel (London, Pelican Books, 1974). F.R. Leavis, The Great Tradition (London, Penguin, 1962). Georg Lukacs, The Historical Novel (London, Merlin Press, 1962). Georg Lukacs, The Theory of the Novel (London, Merlin Press, 1971). J.A. Cuddon (ed), Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory (New York, Penguin Books, 1991). James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (London, Penguin, 1992) Jeremy Hawthorn, Studying the Novel – An Introduction (New Delhi, Universal Book Stall, 1985). Julian Symons, The Thirties – A Dream Resolved (London, Faber & Faber, 1975). M.H. Abrams, A Glossary of Literary Terms (Bangalore, Prism Books, 1981). M.M. Bakhtin, Problems of Dostoevski’s Poetics (London & Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 1984). M.M. Bakhtin, The Dialogic Imagination (New York, University of Texas Press, 1981). Malcolm Bradbury ed., The Novel Today (Glasgow, Fontana, 1977). Margaret Drabble (ed.), The Oxford Companion to English Literature (London, Oxford University Press, 1998). Matthew Arnold, Culture and Anarchy (London, Penguin, 1980). Milan Kundera, The Art of the Novel (New Delhi, Rupa & Co., 1992). N. Krishnaswamy, John Vargese, & Sunita Mishra, Contemporary Literary Theory – A Student’s Companion (New Delhi, Macmillan, 2001). Paul Cobley, Narrative (New York, Routledge, 2001).

236  Bibliography Percy Lubbock, The Craft of Fiction (London, Jonathan Cape, 1926). Raymond Williams, The Politics of Modernism (London, Verso, 1989). Robert Liddell, A Treatise on the Novel (London, Jonathan Cape, 1965). Rolland Barthes, S/Z (Oxford, Basil Blackwell, 1973). T.S Eliot, The Sacred Wood (London, Methuen, 1964). Terry Eagleton, Literary Theory (New Delhi, Maya Publishers, 1996). Wayne Booth, The Rhetoric of Fiction (Chicago, Penguin Books, 1983). Wolfgang Iser, The Implied Reader (London, John Hopkins, 1974).

On Aldous Huxley Akhilesh Kumar Tripathy, The Art of Aldous Huxley (Varanasi, Rasmani Tripathy, 1980). Alexander Henderson, Aldous Huxley (New York, Russel & Russel, 1964). Bansi Lal Chakoo, Aldous Huxley and Eastern Wisdom (Delhi, Atma Ram, 1981). Berthold Thiel, Aldous Huxley’s ‘Brave New World’ (Amsterdam, Verlag B.R. Gruner, 1980). Bharati Krishnan, Aspects of Structure, Technique and Quest in Aldous Huxley’s Major Novels (Stockholm, Almqvist & Wiksell International, 1977). Cecil Day-Lewis, We’re Not Going to do Nothing (A Reply to Mr. Aldous Huxley’s Pamphlet – ‘What are You Going to do About It?’) (Norwood, Norwood Editions, 1978). Christopher Ferns, Aldous Huxley – Novelist (London, Athlone Press, 1980). D.V. Jog, Aldous Huxley – The Novelist (Bombay, Book Centre, 1966). David S. Savage, Mysticism and Aldous Huxley; An Examination of HeardHuxley Theories (Folcroft, Folcroft Library, 1977). Donald Watt, (ed.), Aldous Huxley – the Critical Heritage (London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1975). Firchow, Peter – Aldous Huxley – Satirist and Novelist (University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, 1972). G.V.L.N. Sharma, Aldous Huxley (with a foreword by A Norman Jeffares) (Allahabad, Kitab Mahal, 1966). Harold Holliday Watts, Aldous Huxley (Boston, Twayne, 1969). Jenni Calder, Huxley and Orwell: ‘Brave New World’ and ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’ (London, Edward Arnold, 1976). Jerome Meckier, (ed.), Critical Essays on Aldous Huxley (New York, G.K. Hall, 1996). Jerome Meckier, Aldous Huxley; Satire and Structure (London, Chatto & Windus, 1969). Jocelyn Brooke, Aldous Huxley (for the British Council and National Book League, London, Longmans, 1954). John Alfred Atkins, Aldous Huxley – A Literary Study (London, John Calder Publishers, 1957). John Woodcock, Dawn and the Darkest Hour – A Study of Aldous Huxley (London, Faber & Faber, 1972). K. Bhaskara Ramamurti, Aldous Huxley – A Study of his Novels (Bombay, Asia, 1974). Keith M. May, Aldous Huxley (London, Elek, 1972). Kishore Gandhi, Aldous Huxley – The Search for a Perennial Religion (New Delhi, Arnold Heinemann, 1980).

Bibliography 237 Krishnarao Shivarao Shelvankar, Ends and Means; A Critique of Social Values (London, Lindsay Drummond Ltd., 1938). Laura Archera Huxley, This Timeless Moment (London, Chatto & Windus, 1969). Lawrence Brander, Aldous Huxley – A Critical Study (London, Rupert HartDavis, 1970). Peter Bowering, Aldous Huxley – A Study of the Major Novels (London, The Universty, 1970). Peter Edgerley Firchow, The End of Utopia; A Study of Aldous Huxley’s ‘Brave New World’ (Lewisburg, Bucknell University Press, 1984). Philip Thody, Aldous Huxley – A Biographical Introduction (London, Studio Vista, 1973). Ramji Lall, Aldous Huxley: ‘Music at Night’ – A Critical Study (New Delhi, Rama Brothers, 1978). Robert Earl Kuehn, (ed.), Aldous Huxley – A Collection of Critical Essays (New Jersey, Prentice-Hall, 1974). Robert S. Baker, The Dark Historic Page; Social Satire and Historicism in the Novels of Aldous Huxley, 1921-1939 (Madison, Wisconsin, The University of Wisconsin Press, 1982). Samarendranath Bardhan, Aldous Huxley, the Philosopher – Novelist (Calcutta, Sujan Publishers, 1981). Sanjukta Dasgupta, The Novels of Huxley and Hemmingway (New Delhi, Prestige Books, 1998). Sir Julian Sorell Huxley, (ed.), Aldous Huxley (1894-1963); A Memorial Volume (London, Chatto & Windus, 1965). Sir Julian Sorell Huxley, Memories (London, George Allen & Unwin, 1970). Sisir Chatterjee, Aldous Huxley; A Study (Calcutta, Uttarayan, 1955). Sumita Roy, Consciousness and Creativity – A Study of Sri Aurobindo, T.S. Eliot, and Aldous Huxley (New Delhi, Sterling, 1991). Sybille Bedford, Aldous Huxley – A Biography (London, Chatto & Windus, 1973).

Novels, Essays, Short Stories, and Verse by Aldous Huxley referred to: Verse – The Burning Wheel (London, Chatto & Windus, 1916). The Defeat of Youth (London, Chatto & Windus, 1918). Selected Poems (London, Chatto & Windus, 1925). Short Story Collections – Limbo (London, Chatto & Windus, 1920). Mortal Coils (London, Chatto & Windus, 1922). Little Mexican (London, Chatto & Windus, 1924). Two or Three Graces (London, Chatto & Windus, 1926). Brief Candles (London, Chatto & Windus, 1930).

238  Bibliography Novels – Crome Yellow (London, Chatto & Windus, 1921). Antic Hay (Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1923). Those Barren Leaves (Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1925). Point Counter Point (London, Flamingo Modern Classics, 1994). Brave New World (London, Chatto & Windus, 1932). Eyeless in Gaza (London, Flamingo modern Classics, 1994). After Many a Summer (Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1939). Time Must Have a Stop (Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1945). Ape and Essence (New York, Bantam Modern Classics, 1968). Island (Suffolk, Triad/Panther, 1962). Essays and Other Writings – On the Margin (London, Chatto & Windus, 1923). Along the Road (London, Chatto & Windus, 1925). Jesting Pilate (Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1926). Proper Studies (Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1927). Do What You Will (London, Chatto & Windus, 1929). Music at Night (London, Chatto & Windus, 1931). Texts and Pretexts (, London, Chatto & Windus, 1932). Beyond the Mexique Bay (London, Chatto & Windus, 1934). The Olive Tree and Other Essays (London, Chatto & Windus, 1936). Ends and Means (London, Chatto & Windus, 1937). Grey Eminence (Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1941). The Art of Seeing (Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1943). The Perennial Philosophy (Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1946). Science, Liberty and Peace (Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1947). The Gioconda Smile (Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1948). The Devils of Loudon (Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1952). The Doors of Perception (Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1954).

Index

Abrams, M.H. 1 actions 1, 15–16 After Many a Summer (Huxley) 6, 12, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 22, 50, 60, 161, 163, 180, 182, 190, 192, 200–202, 204–205 anagnorisis 200 analogies, in classical mythologies 14 Anatomy of Criticism (Frye) 8 animal imagery 6 Antic Hay (Huxley) 5, 10, 13, 16–17, 18, 60, 84, 133, 181, 182, 184, 185, 189, 195–196, 219; meaninglessness in 26 Ape and Essence (Huxley) 6, 11, 12, 143, 146–147, 148, 160–162, 164, 182, 194, 210, 211, 213, 214, 223–224 art 9; as illusion of meaning 28 attachment 100, 146, 157, 190 auditory images, in Eyeless in Gaza 89 Austen, Jane 9 authorial objectivity 23 authorial voice 22, 23 baboon 204–207 Bacon, Francis 2 Bakhtin, Mikhail 22, 23, 180 Bardo Thodol 222–223 Barthes, Rolland 180 Beach, Joseph Warren 21 beast fable 10–12 Bell, Julian 83 Bennetts, Elizabeth 183 bestiality 18 Bidlake, John 18–19 Booth, Wayne 22, 24, 32

Bowering, Peter 86, 122, 133, 200, 222 Brave New World (Huxley) 11, 143, 144–146, 147–148, 150, 153, 164, 181, 182, 187–188, 210, 211, 214–215, 220–221, 224–225; principle characters in 150; rebels in 165; societies in 150 Breton, Nicholas 2 Briggs, Bob 6, 160 Brothers Karamazov (Dostoevsky) 7 Buddha 6 capitalism 30 carnivalesque 180 Casaubon 2 the Character (genre) 2, 5 characterology 2 characters: analysis of 18; beast fable 10–12; Complete Man 184–188; defined 1; flat See flat characters; in futuristic novels 149–177; grotesqueness in 10–11; Guru 194–197; humours 12–13; in literature 10; Mephistopheles 192–194; one-sidedness of 8–9; positive 38–39, 49–53; round 1, 2, 9; Siren Female 188–192; two-dimensional 10; type See type characters Characters (Overbury) 2 Chikai Bardo 223 Chonyid Bardo 223 Christianity 28, 31, 94–95, 151, 220 class structure 4–5 comedy 13 Communism 83, 136 Complete Man 184–188 Conrad, Joseph 10

240  Index conversation novel 14, 179, 182 County Councils Act of 1884 4 The Craft of Fiction (Lubbock) 21 critics 9–10, 15 Crome Yellow (Huxley) 13, 14, 26, 87, 129, 133, 144, 179, 182, 185–186, 188, 191–192, 194–195, 199, 201, 204 Daiches, David 22 Darwin 4, 147 Death of the Author (Barthes) 180, 181 debauchery 56 decentralization 147, 148–149 Dedaluses, Stephen 183 democracy 213 Devils of Loudon (Huxley) 211, 213 dialogic 23, 180, 181 The Dialogic Imagination (Bakhtin) 180 dialogues 1, 16, 41 Dickens 3, 8, 13 discourse 2, 23, 30, 32, 33, 35, 45–46, 68, 85, 90–92, 96, 131, 208 discussion novel 5, 21 Dostoevsky 7–8, 60, 180, 181 Earle, John 2 Early Greek Philosophers (Burnet) 135 East, Huxley’s philosophic vision on 219–231 emotional- intellectual pattern 36–38 Encyclopaedia of Pacifism (Huxley) 212 Ends and Means (Huxley) 27–28, 155, 197–198, 212, 213 epiphany 19–20 expressionism 33–34 Extraordinary Bodies: Figuring Physical Disability in American Culture and Literature (GarlandThomson) 131 Eyeless in Gaza (Huxley) 9, 10, 13, 15, 20, 39, 50, 60, 82–140, 163, 180, 182, 183, 187, 199, 202, 203, 210, 212, 217, 221, 222; auditory images in 89; discourses in 90–92; olfactory images in 89; physical structure of 85–86; tactical images in 89–90; visual images in 87–89

farce 26 The Farcical History of Richard Greenow (Huxley) 212 Fascism 83, 217 Feminist Philosophers (Grimshaw) 132 Firchow, Peter 60 flat characters 2, 3, 13; advantages of 1; defined 1 Forster, E.M. 1, 2, 3 Frye, Northrop 8 future peoples 157–165 Futuristic Novels 143–177, 210–232 See also Ape and Essence; Brave New World; Island; future peoples 157–165; outsiders 149–157; rebels 165–177 Gandhi 6, 147 Garland-Thomson, Rosmarie 131 Gonister, Earl of 6, 15, 194, 201, 205, 206 Great War 3, 4 Grimshaw, Jean 132 grotesqueness, in characters 10–11 The Guardian (newspaper) 10 Guru figure 194–197, 207–210 Heart of Darkness (Conard) 93 Hoffmann, Frederick 15 homo sapiens 204, 207 Human Vomedy 8 humours 12–13 Huxley, Aldous 2–3, 4–5, 6; admiration for Jonson 12–13; antiromantic tendencies 8; author’s influences on 7–8; criticism faced by 180; critic of 9–10; epiphany, usage of 19–20; irony, usage of 20–21; letter by Lawrence to 61; motifs 18, 19; opinion of ideal states 145; philosophic vision See philosophic vision; and realistic method of narration 17; satire, usage of 8–9; and two-dimensional characters 10 Huxley, T.H. 3, 4 ideal states, opinion of 145 indirect satire 8 individualism 218–219 industrial progress 30 inhumanity 18

Index 241 intellectual fallacy 22 irony 20–21, 146, 147 Island (Huxley) 11, 14, 146, 147, 148, 163, 164, 165, 179, 182, 188, 200, 210, 214, 215, 216, 222; outsider in 156–157; rebels in 173–174 James, Henry 4, 9 Jonson, Ben 12–13, 179 Joyce, James 10, 16, 17, 19, 96 karma, theory of 29 Lawrence, D.H. 7, 17, 49, 119; letter to Huxley 61 literature, characters in 10 Lord Jim (Conrad) 21 Love (painting) 34 Lubbock, Percy 21, 32 Lublin, Lou 160 M.A.C.-s (Mutual Adoption Clubs) 146, 149 Mann, Thomas 2 marital relationships, analysis of  42–43 Marx, Karl 146 Marxism 4, 82, 217 The Mayor of Casterbridge (Hardy) 21 meaningfulness 28 meaninglessness, philosophy of See philosophy of meaninglessness Melincourt (Peacock) 6 Menippean satire 8 Men Like Gods (Wells) 143 Mephistopheles 192–194 Microcosmographie (Earle) 2 minimum working hypothesis 210 A Modern Utopia (Wells) 143 Mond, Alfred 35 Mond, Mustapha 115, 145–146, 148, 150 monologic 23, 32, 90, 144, 180, 181 monomania 5–6 monstrosity 11–12, 28, 31 Morality play 14, 93 motifs 18, 19 The New Statesman (magazine) 83 Nightmare Abbey (Peacock) 6 Nihilist/Nihilism 10, 15, 27 non-attachment 6, 145–147, 149

non-violence teaching 6 novel of ideas 2–3, 14, 21, 22, 179, 183; action in 15; characters in 3; defect of 9–10 Odysseus 14 olfactory images, in Eyeless in Gaza 89 omniscient narrator 39, 41, 48 one-sidedness, of characters 8–9 opinion of ideal states 145 ordinary type character 2 Outlines of History (painting) 34 Outsider 149–165 Overbury, Thomas 2 Peacock, Thomas Love 2, 5–6 The Perennial Philosophy (Huxley) 212 Perennial Religion 5 personality 23 philosophic vision: Eastern 219–231; union 231–232; Western 211–219 philosophy of meaninglessness 3, 26–28, 53–73, 182–197; character of Complete Man 184–188; explicit rejection of 31–32; woman characters 188–192 physical love 34 Plato 143, 146 Plautus 13 pleasure, feeling of 32 poetry 23, 38 Point Counter Point (Huxley) 5, 9, 10, 11, 13, 15, 17, 20, 22, 26–79, 84, 85, 86–87, 92–93, 100–101, 129, 138, 161, 163, 180, 182, 183, 185, 190, 192, 196–197, 203, 204, 217, 219–220 polyphony 23, 181 A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (Joyce) 16, 17, 21, 22–23, 96 positive characters 38–39, 49–53 The Possessed (Dostoevsky) 60 primacy, of individual in social development 197–210 Pritchett, V.S. 21 Problems of Dostoevski’s Poetics (Bakhtin) 180–181 Prospero 3 protagonist, as learner 199–201 Pryce-Jones, Allan 21

242  Index The Rainbow (Lawrence) 49 Raleigh, Walter 2 rational commentary 22 realistic method of narration 17 rebels 165–177 religion 28, 31, 94–95, 174–176 Rennaissance 2 The Republic (Plato) 143 Rockfeller, John D. 35 round characters 1, 2, 9 satire 8–9, 13 satirical comedy 13 science, as illusion of meaning 28 self-education 149 sentimental fallacy 22 Shakespeare 150, 152 Shaw, Bernard 35 Sidpa Bardo 223 Siren Female 188–192, 201 social classes 4–5 social development, primacy of individual in 197–210 social disparity 144 socialism 144 social type character 2 soma, concept of 221 Sons and Lovers (Lawrence) 49 spirituality 51, 151–152, 174–176 “split” personalities 5 Stephen Hero (Joyce) 19 stock situations 13 stream-of-consciousness technique 96, 97 Symons, Julian 83 tactical images, in Eyeless in Gaza 89–90 Tallis, William 147 teachings 6 Telemachus 14 The Tempest (Prospero) 3 Terence 13

Theophrastus 2 Third Reform Act of 1884 4 Those Barren Leaves (Huxley) 5, 6, 10, 13, 20, 26, 50, 133, 152, 182, 187, 191, 204, 212, 220 Tibetan Book of the Dead 222 Time Must Have a Stop (Huxley) 50, 129, 182, 190, 199, 200, 201, 212, 222, 223 Tolstoy, Leo 10, 23, 180 Totemism 151 Tradition and the Individual Talent (Eliot) 23 two-dimensional characters 10 type characters 1, 2, 183; categories of 2; and stock situations 13 union, Huxley’s philosophic vision on 231–232 Victorian era 4 Villanelle of the Temptress (Joyce) 19 The Virgin and the Gypsy (Lawrence) 119 visual images, in Eyeless in Gaza 87–89 visualization 33–34 Volpone (Jonson) 12–13 Vyes, Eustacia 183 Watson, Helmholtz 143 Watts, Harold H. 14, 15 Watts, Harold J. 60 Wells, H.G. 24, 34, 143, 144 West, Huxley’s philosophic vision on 211–219 women 201–204; characters 188–192; depiction of 18–19; detesting 56 Woodcock, George 11 Woodcock, John 17 Woolf, Virginia 9, 17