Island - Aldous Huxley [119]
“An optimist,” said Mrs. Narayan, “for the simple reason that, if one tackles a problem intelligently and realistically, the results are apt to be fairly good. This island justifies a certain optimism. And now let’s go and have a look at the dancing class.”
They crossed a tree-shaded courtyard and, pushing through a swing door, passed out of silence into the rhythmic beat of a drum and the screech of fifes repeating over and over again a short pentatonic tune that to Will’s ears sounded vaguely Scotch.
“Live music or canned?” he asked.
“Japanese tape,” Mrs. Narayan answered laconically. She opened a second door that gave access to a large gymnasium where two bearded young men and an amazingly agile little old lady in black satin slacks were teaching some twenty or thirty little boys and girls the steps of a lively dance.
“What’s this?” Will asked. “Fun or education?”
“Both,” said the Principal. “And it’s also applied ethics. Like those breathing exercises we were talking about just now—only more effective because so much more violent.”
“So stamp it out,” the children were chanting in unison. And they stamped their small sandaled feet with all their might. “So stamp it out!” A final furious stamp and they were off again, jigging and turning, into another movement of the dance.
“This is called the Rakshasi Hornpipe,” said Mrs. Narayan.
“Rakshasi?” Will questioned. “What’s that?”
“A Rakshasi is a species of demon. Very large, and exceedingly unpleasant. All the ugliest passions personified. The Rakshasi Hornpipe is a device for letting off those dangerous heads of steam raised by anger and frustration.”
“So stamp it out!” The music had come round again to the choral refrain. “So stamp it out!”
“Stamp again,” cried the little old lady setting a furious example. “Harder! Harder!”
“Which did more,” Will speculated, “for morality and rational behavior—the Bacchic orgies or the Republic? the Nicomachean Ethics or corybantic dancing?”
“The Greeks,” said Mrs. Narayan, “were much too sensible to think in terms of either-or. For them, it was always not-only-but-also. Not only Plato and Aristotle, but also the maenads. Without those tension-reducing hornpipes, the moral philosophy would have been impotent, and without the moral philosophy the hornpipers wouldn’t have known where to go next. All we’ve done is to take a leaf out of the old Greek book.”
“Very good!” said Will approvingly. Then remembering (as sooner or later, however keen his pleasure and however genuine his enthusiasm, he always did remember) that he was the man who wouldn’t take yes for an answer, he suddenly broke into laughter. “Not that it makes any difference in the long run,” he said. “Corybantism couldn’t stop the Greeks from cutting one another’s throats. And when Colonel Dipa decides to move, what will your Rakshasi Hornpipes do for you? Help you to reconcile yourselves to your fate, perhaps—that’s all.”
“Yes, that’s all,” said Mrs. Narayan. “But being reconciled to one’s fate—that’s already a great achievement.”
“You seem to take it all very calmly.”
“What would be the point of taking it hysterically? It wouldn’t make our political situation any better; it would merely make our personal situation a good deal worse.”
“So stamp it out,” the children shouted again in unison, and the boards trembled under their pounding feet. “So stamp it out.”
“Don’t imagine,” Mrs. Narayan resumed, “that this is the only kind of dancing we teach. Redirecting the power generated by bad feelings is important. But equally important is directing good feelings and right knowledge into expression. Expressive movements, in this case, expressive gesture. If you had come yesterday, when our visiting master was here, I could have shown you how we teach that kind of dancing. Not today unfortunately. He won’t be here again before Tuesday.”
“What sort of dancing does he teach?”
Mrs. Narayan tried to describe it. No leaps, no high kicks, no running. The feet always firmly on the ground. Just bendings and