A Dance to The Music of Time - Volume 6

The theme of the arrival of war overarches The Kindly Ones. Repeatedly throughout the book, as news of both wars arrives, Nick refers to the Eumenides of Greek mythology, the Furies. Yet it is not the Furies of mythology that truly make the impact of the book and inspire the title, rather it is the few people who throughout Nick’s life who seem to be pursued by the Kindly Ones. The best defined of the victims of the Furies in Nick’s own life seems to be Bracey. While Bracey is not intentionally malicious or harmful, he carries about him an air of malignance that permeates all those he comes into contact with. The Kindly Ones “inflicted the vengeance of the gods by bringing in their train war, pestilence, dissension on earth; torturing too, by the string of conscience” (2). Where Bracey goes, all of these seem to follow.

“Dissension” surrounds Bracey, a point most clearly made by the cake incident. Originally Albert was “lukewarm” on whether Billson should have given the stale cake to the ragged child, but after Bracey voiced his “gravest disapproval” it drove Albert “into more energetic support of Billson” (32). Where there had once been very little conflict, Bracey’s involvement escalated the incident until it became “a matter of bitter controversy in the kitchen” (32).

Bracey’s “funny days” are yet another method through which the Furies seem to enact their wrath upon him. During his funny days, when asked if he would like a plate of soup, Bracey would respond that he would have some “only if it is my right” (13). These “periodic vexation[s] of spirit” (12), while difficult for the rest of the house, take the largest toll on Bracey himself, as he begins to question his most basic rights, namely the right to food. The fact that during his funny days, Bracey speaks “as if reiterating some charm or magical formula” (13) also presents his melancholy in a mystical light, as if it were thrust upon him from some outside source, and only his spell can break the curse. Bracey’s funny days are not intentional; rather they are forced upon him by the ever present Furies.

Bracey certainly is closely associated with war. Not only is he a private in the Army, but he also holds the view that Britain will undoubtedly go to war with Germany (WWI) . He tells Nick of how he does not need a bayonet, except for “when the Germans come” (23). While to Nick and his family a German invasion seems a “humorous possibility,” Bracey is perfectly open about his opinion of war’s inevitability (23). When the war finally does come, Bracey is sent abroad to fight, and not unexpectedly is killed in battle on the “retreat” (74). The idea that Bracey was retreating when killed should not strike us as unusual, for throughout his life Bracey has been in constant retreat from the Furies.

Nick also directly relates the misfortunes of the Kindly Ones as following in Bracey’s wake. Thinking back about Bracey, Nick refers to him as “a man … pursued by the Furies” (158). In concluding his description of the riding mishaps of his father, Nick concludes that “evil influences – possibly the demons of Stonehurst or even the Furies themselves – seemed malignantly at work. However, that was no fault of Bracey’s” (27-28).

The Furies seemed to always have been hot on Bracey’s tail. He was constantly surrounded by War, not only through his participation but also through his profession as a soldier. As a member of the household, he seemed to engender argument and cause immeasurable stress through his “funny days,” especially to Billson through her tortured self-conscience. In the end, Bracey’s fate seems appropriate; he dies retreating from battle, just as he has spent his entire life. The Furies were after him, and they finally got what they wanted.

While attending a dinner party at the home of Sir Magnus Donners, his guests partake in a modern day reenactment of the Seven Deadly Sins. Nick, Moreland, Isobel, Matilda, Templer, Anne and Betty are all assigned sins that `suit’ them, and they are to recreate these misdeeds in photographs that Sir Magnus will take. Sir Magnus is the only one not to appear in the photographs, claiming that “myself as a subject would make me nervous” (TKO, 123); however, it is hard to believe that anything would make Sir Magnus nervous; considering he is such an open person. Why then, does he chose not to participate? The answer to this lies within the sins he commits.
Sir Magnus is a man of great wealth, a man of great luxuries and a man of great indulgences. From his excessive collections in his home to his collection of women, Sir Magnus has it all-and then some. “The exuberance of the armor, tapestries, pictures, china, [and] furniture” (109) is omnipresent is Sir Magnus’ home. His countless mistresses, including Matilda and Baby Wentworth, are also a manifestation of his extravagance. Sir Magnus is the epitome of Gluttony: the act of indulging in something excessively (American Heritage Dictionary).

“Nobody warned me it was made of cardboard,” (106) Isobel comments. The `castle’ was an “absurd unreality against a background of oaks” (106) Nick describes. The house was a façade, an attempt to look more grand than it truly is. Magnus has an “immoderate desire for wealth” (American Heritage Dictionary), which makes him guilty of Avarice.

The number of women that Sir Magnus has had is immeasurable. He never seems to get his fill. His “intense [and] unrestrained sexual craving” (American Heritage Dictionary) is obvious to those around him. Sir Magnus is a victim of what seems an insatiable Lust.

In Sir Magnus’ possessions, his women, his home, he takes a great deal of Pride. He appears to put in a lot of time and effort into his reputation, and he enjoys the fruits of his over-consumption. “`I find it impossible to persuade professionals to take pictures of my collections in the way I want them taken. That was why I decided to do it myself. The results, I say it, are as good, if not better” (117), he brags. Sir Magnus himself also states that “No one could object to Pride” (126). Certainly, he does not object to it; it is an old friend.

Sir Magnus does not take on one particular sin in the pictures because he personifies so many. Lust, Gluttony, Avarice and Pride are all aspects of his personality. Sir Magnus does not want to be in the pictures because he does not want to have his true colors come out through the photos. Sir Magnus is a man of many sins, just as everyone else is; he is just more dynamic than most.

After reading At Lady Molly’s, we notice a change in our opinion of Widmerpool. Although Jenkins was never particularly fond of him, in the first five books Widmerpool has gone from being the school nerd to a respected and admired businessman to a buffoon in the bedroom. In The Kindly Ones our opinions of Widmerpool advance to another level. This time, they start to travel ominously downward. He comes off as arrogant and pompous, even threatening, especially in the second half of the book.

We first run into Widmerpool at the end of the fancy dress at Stourwater. Widmerpool, like a wet blanket, douses the life out of Sir Magnus Donners’ party. “He appeared to be standing at attention, a sinister, threatening figure, calling the world to arms. It was Widmerpool” (133). The Jenkinses, the Morelands, Templer and Anne Stepney are all decked out in their imitations of the Seven Deadly Sins when Widmerpool walks into the room in his military uniform and sobers their spirits with his seriousness. Consequently when Templer asks him if he is going to make them “form fours,” Widmerpool “smile[s] at his pitiful error” (135). Templer has always ridiculed Widmerpool before; it is now Widmerpool’s turn.

Further along in the book, we come to know of Widmerpool’s business problems with Duport. Duport tells Nick about how Widmerpool cancelled his credit without informing him, putting him in “an unenviable position” (174). Later, when Widmerpool himself talks to Jenkins about the Duport deal, he says that Duport “must be in a difficult position financially, owing to his reckless conduct” (225). Widmerpool blames Duport for the mess and is even sorry that he is doing better. This is a bizarre incident, for there has been no reason for Widmerpool to do such a thing. Our respect for him lowers in terms of his business dealings. At first, he was interested in his progress only, but now he doesn’t care if he moves on at the expense of someone else’s job.

The perfect example of Widmerpool’s pompousness shows through when Jenkins calls his office to talk about the Territorials. Widmerpool calls him “my boy,” tells him to “bring his own beer,” and asks him not to expect too much of his time because he was “up to [his] arse in bumph”(219). Jenkins talks about how he is “annoyed” because he doesn’t think Widmerpool has “earned the right to use [such terms]” especially not to him. (219) At the meeting itself Widmerpool shows a great deal of self-importance by “puffing out his cheeks” and generally making little things a big deal. Instead of giving Jenkins advice, he criticizes him for the fact that he did not “look ahead” and join the Territorials before the war. Jenkins’ statement on page 222 – “I almost admired him for making so little effort to conceal his lack of interest … waiting his time to demand something of myself” – reinforces the idea that Widmerpool is only interested in taking time to improve his own situation, and even to feed off of others when necessary. “You come and ask me for advice about getting into the army, Nicholas … you think I have nothing more serious to occupy me than your own trivial problems,” he says, but later Jenkins remarks “Perhaps he also feared that, if he went too far in his reproofs, I might excuse myself from accompanying him to the Jeavonses” (230). Widmerpool has ulterior motives for meeting with Jenkins; he has absolutely no interest in his personal problems.

Widmerpool’s change for being the one with a “slavish expression” on his face after the banana incident at Eton, to being in an enviable business position is a great one. He has had no success with women, and no improvement in his social skills, but financially, he is the most stable of the Eton group. His character is still made fun of, though in a more subtle way, with his problems with the boils, for example, but ironically he is the most successful and powerful of them all.

Throughout life people encounter other people by chance. Sometimes they know those they meet, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they talk and sometimes they merely pass each other with only a moment of visual contact. There are many times in Dance when two characters randomly meet and the story twists due to this coincidental encounter. One crucial example of such a meeting occurs between Nick and Isobel at Erridge’s house in At Lady Molly’s, when they fall in love. In The Kindly Ones there are chance encounters that have a real impact on the story.

Nick takes on the responsibility of dealing with Uncle Giles’s possessions and funeral arrangements, when his father is “in no state” (147) to do so. When Nick arrives at Albert’s hotel in Bellevue he packs Giles few possessions into two bags. Then he attends dinner. As Nick looks around the room he sees Bob Duport. Nick, “had not set eyes on Duport since [he] was an undergraduate,” (163 Nick doesn’t introduce himself to Duport; instead he acts as if he doesn’t see him. However, the other man recognizes him, and they end up spending the evening together. This unexpected encounter enlightens Nick about a few things. He finds out that Jean has been more promiscuous than he thought. He finds out that Widmerpool has become a power-hungry, backstabbing businessman. This image of Widmerpool that Duport gives is very different from the first image that Nick gives us when he was at school in A Question of Upbringing, although we have seen Widmerpool evolving in this direction.

A second more significant chance encounter occurs toward the end of The Kindly Ones. Nick, like everyone else in England, wants to help out Great Britain during World War II. Nick was registered with the Territorial Reserve, but he wants to be commissioned into the armed forces. Nick turns to General Conyers for advice on how to get commissioned, but Conyers is powerless at this point in his life. Nick becomes so desperate that he goes to Widmerpool for help. Widmerpool tells him that there is little he can do; however he asks Nick to accompany him to the Jeavons’ flat. Nick reluctantly goes with Widmerpool, hoping that this favor will give him a better chance of getting help from Widmerpool. Jeavons’ brother, Stanley is staying with the Jeavonses when Nick and Widmerpool get there. Stanley’s job is sorting out which Territorial Reservists will be called up for duty. Nick asks Stanley if the process of “finding my name … could be speeded up?” (252). Stanley tells him that it “might take a week or two” (253). This is more than Nick can ever have hoped for. Nick’s life is changed simply, because he happened to go with Widmerpool to the Jeavons’ house. Meeting Stanley is a fluke event in Nick’s life, but a very welcome one. Powell uses the Greek technique of making Stanley a “Deus ex Machina” to try up all of the loose ends in this book.

These and other encounters that Nick has in The Kindly Ones and the other books in Dance cut the path for the story. Nick’s life is much more interesting to read about, because of these sudden twists and turns. For the reader this story is more realistic, because chance encounters do occur in real life. So as Nick runs into old friends or strangers, his lifeline is not straight; it curves like a river.

One of the most memorable scenes occurs in the sixth volume of A Dance to the Music of Time. Nick Jenkins, Isobel, Hugh Moreland, Matilda, Anne Umfraville, Betty Templer, and Peter Templer decide to pose in tableaux and have Sir Magnus Donners photograph them. The chosen themes are the Seven Deadly Sins: Sloth, Pride, Gluttony, Envy, Anger, Avarice, and Lust. Each person, with the exception of Sir Magnus surprisingly, is given one of the Sins to act out and to be photographed. How accurately are the Seven Sins dealt out? How much relevance do they have to each person’s personality? Do all of the Sins apply, in some way or another, to each character?

“To prevent argument,” Sir Magnus takes it upon himself to dole out the Sins; “It will be my privilege as host.” (126) Lust is the first Sin mentioned when Anne states that it is the most obvious and well known. Magnus assigns Lust to Peter Temple. He says, “I don’t think we can offer such a sin to a lady.” (126) It seems fitting that Templer gets to act this sin out because, after all, he is well known for his courtships with women.

Sir Magnus then assigns Anger to Anne Umfraville. This does apply to Anne in some respects; however it slightly contradicts her “improved” personality. Jenkins tells us that she seems “far less truculent.” (120) “She no longer contradicted, as a matter of principle, every word spoken to her; her demeanour was friendly, rather than the reverse.” (120) People who are angry tend to be unpleasant. Jenkins points out that Anne has changedshe is not so unpleasant anymore. But she did, at one point, possess a certain amount of temper which most likely caused her to be unpleasant. So this, too, seems to fit Anne.

Matilda is the next person to receive a sin: Envy. Matilda is displayed as a somewhat envious character. This is interesting because there are many incidents in which Moreland seems to be envious of Matilda’s past life as Sir Magnus’s mistress. However, Matilda also shows traces of envy. In the first years of their marriage, Matilda did not like attending the parties that Moreland did. She was bored by his musical friends, and she wanted his attention. The roles seem to switch and that is evident when she brings up the idea of going to Stourwater. She is now anxious to get out and be in the company of others. Envy seems to work with Matilda, whether it defines her as being envious, or of others being envious of her.

Sir Magnus then asks “Lady Isobel” to present Pride. This fits in some ways and not in others. Isobel should posess a certain amount of pride because she was able to enchant Nick so powerfully at first glance. He expresses a most explicit description of his feelings for her which is something he does not do often. He falls so hard for her that he never thinks of another choice for his wife. The incident that put a damper on her sense of pride was the miscarriage. Although it is not discussed to a great extent, the miscarriage may be very scarring to her. But her portrayal of this Sin seems to impress everyone, as she “looked the personification of Pride.” (128)

Betty Templer is the next person to be dealt a Sin. Magnus tells her that portraying Avarice “is a very easy one, making no demands on your powers as an actress.” (126) As the reader has just recently been introduced to Betty, it is difficult to say how well this Sin applies to her, however the description that is given of her slightly contradicts this Sin. Betty is nearing the end of her tether, for reasons not completely known. Nick speculates that Templer displaced his sadness from Mona’s departure with Betty, who devotes herself to him. She is not “equipped to cope with her husband, to stand up to Templer’s armour-plated egotism as a ‘ladies’ man.'” (121) She is not very greedy for him to change his lifestyle. She accepts Templer as he is, regardless of whether it drives her farther from sanity.

Moreland faces the task of presenting Gluttony. Gluttony is closely correlated with the word “excessive.” Moreland is gluttonous in many respects. Sir Magnus comments that “I have often heard you praise the pleasure of the table above all others.” (126) However, this Sin does not fit him as well as some of the other Sins fit the others.

Nick Jenkins is handed Sloth. This Sin seems to be appropriate for him. His portrayal of this further supports this; very simple, he takes a few cushions and sprawls himself across them. His is the shortest presentation. Jenkins, as we know, is not very expressive. He is, in a sense, almost lazy when it comes to describing his own feelings. Sloth is appropriate to Nick’s persona.

The Sins that everyone is given are, for the most part, appropriate. Some fit better than others, but the one very questionable aspect of the assignments of the Sins is why Magnus did not assign himself one. He, instead, decides to photograph the presentations of these Sins. Magnus, perhaps is serving as a culmination of all the Sins, combined. The reader knows that he is not a very “good” person, and it seems fitting that he is not defined by one Sin in particular, but rather the reader can deduct that he represents all of the Sins.

Tetherless, Uncle Giles wanders through Anthony Powell’s series A Dance to the Music of Time; his visits, unexpected and often importunate, framing many of the books and accompanying Nick’s development. He first appears in the series “through the narrow space released between the door and the wall” of Stringham’s room at Eton (14, AQOU). In this scene he remains “cautious of assuming as a matter of course that his company would be welcome anywhere” (15, AQOU); his arrival precurses the first adventure at Eton that Nick relates, when the housemaster, Le Bas, smells the smoke from Giles’s “turkish” ciggarette. When Le Bas tells Nick that he must write to Giles to affirm that neither Stringham nor Nick smoked, Nick replies, “but I don’t know his address, sir. All I know is that he was on his way to Reading” (28, AQOU). This unexpected and unwelcome arrival, and the subsequent adventure betray Giles’s untethered existence. Nick sumarizes this existence in a simple phrase regarding Giles’s funeral; he says “fire was the element appropriate to his obsequies, the funeral pyre traditional to the nomad” (147, TKO). Nick’s comment epitomizes Giles; it metaphorically characterizes his wandering existence and defines him as an unsettled traveler.

His residences provide the major example of Giles’s undomesticated nature, because they act more as “battered caravenersais,” as he calls them, then as permanent locations (141, TKO). Nick puts Giles in the “the proud, anonymous, secretive race that dwell in residential hotels;” two of these hotels are the Ufford in London, and the Bellevue in Bayswater (149, TKO). He describes both hotels as “battleship-grey… resolutely attempting to set out to sea” (149, TKO). This description demonstrates the transience of Giles’s homes, because they, like him, seem ready to “ship anchor and float… on the sluggish Bayswater tide” (149, TKO).

Giles’s appearances– his unpredictable habit of popping up in random places at odd times– further exemplify his nomadic nature. When he telegrams Nick’s parents asking “Can you house me Sunday night?” is one example of these appearances (46, TKO). He unexplainedly arrived to “talk business” from Aldershot (46, TKO). This indefinite starting point and terminus portray the unattached quality of his nature. Throughout the novel Giles surfaces in random places; these wanderings demonstrate another aspect of his transient existence.

Giles’s last effects, his bag left at the Bellevue, embody the third example of the propriety of Nick’s nomad metaphor. Because, symbolically, all of his possessions can be contained in a Gladstone bag, Giles could travel anywhere unencumbered. He has lived a life on the move, his “residue” contained in suitcases left in residential hotels (154, TKO).

Nick’s comment applies to Giles, because, like a nomad, he lacked a home, was able to travel unencumbered, and constantly wandered. Giles’s life was filled with random acquaintances such as Trelawney and Mrs. Erdleigh, and unexplained locations such as Reading and Aldershot. He rambled in and out of Nick’s life in pursuit of financial success. In the end, cremation really “was the element appropriate to his obsequies,” because he truly was a nomad (147, TKO).

In The Kindly Ones, the military atmosphere under which Jenkins matures as a young boy has shaped his personality and more reserved nature. Jenkins’s character is influenced through his observation of his father, a military officer, his father’s assistant, Private Bracey, and his family’s friend, General Conyers. The Jenkins household, Stonehurst, is ruled by his father, a captain in the army, who, “had an absolute passion for power…. In his own house, only he himself was allowed to criticize.”(38) The military lifestyle at home is a highly structured environment with high standards for behavior and conduct. In the first chapter, young Nicholas Jenkins embraces the military world of the adults around him and acts as if he is a soldier himself. His father “was never greatly at ease with other men,… avoiding friendship, too close personal ties which can handicap freedom of ascent.”(38) This suggests that Jenkins is not exposed to many close adult male relationships as he grows up, but rather those of a more formal military style; and therefore he has little basis to form his own close friendships as he matures.

Jenkins is invited to a football match by Bracey, the soldier-servant of his father. He is very excited to go to the match because he will be able to experience more military life. Bracey has dressed up in his military attire for the excursion and this further intrigues young Jenkins. He says, ” I was greatly interested in football but more on account of the closer contact the jaunt offered with military life.”(23) The Jenkins’s home is secluded from daily military proceedings, because it is on a hill away from where the soldiers are stationed so Jenkins does not get as much exposure to the military world as he craves. When he asks his father if he can attend the football match, he says, ” Permission was asked for the projected excursion. It was accorded by authority.”(23) Jenkins describes the permission from his father with very formal language, as if he is an officer asking permission for a brief leave of service. With this remark he demonstrates that he enthusiastically accepts the military world and seizes all opportunities to exercise the formalities of military life. This interaction between Jenkins and his father also reveals the formal nature of Jenkins relationship with his father, his first male relationship in life.

Jenkins runs out the gate very excitedly to greet the Conyers as they arrive at Stonehurst to visit his family. As they approached he comments on the General’s old fashion goggles and hat, saying that they were ritualistic like the mannerisms of the army. General Conyers questions Jenkins as to whether or not he attends school. Jenkins responds, “Not yet. I have lessons with Miss Orchard”(51) and goes on to name each child Miss Orchard teaches and to inform the General of their father’s position in the army. General Conyers then says to Jenkins, “An exceedingly well informed report. You have given yourself a trouble to go into matters thoroughly, I see. That is one of the secrets of success in life.”(51) This interaction gives Jenkins great pleasure because General Conyers treats him as an adult in their conversation and Jenkins is truly able to fulfill the role of a soldier reporting to a higher officer. Jenkins has followed this rule up to this point in the entire novel, analyzing and observing every situation down to the finest detail before acting.

Through the observations of the military men around Jenkins, as he grows up at Stonehurst and as a result of his desire to imitate them and act like an adult soldier at a young age, he develops into an emotional reserved character who did not have a lot of very close personal friends. Jenkins learns to love the structure of military life from his early childhood. He tries to cling to this structure and way of life as he proceeded through his adult life. Jenkins’s rigid, military style, standards for friendship and behavior that he learns at Stonehurst, affect his ability to interact socially. The upper class society, that Jenkins pursues as a young adult, creates a world of more uncertainty, more unclearly defined in terms of expectations in comparison to his more rigidly defined military background. Jenkins has difficulty freeing himself from the more rigid standards of his military upbringing, finding more emotionally distant relationships safer than the vulnerability that he might experience in a more intimate one.

Yes, Uncle Giles is dead. Nick’s trusty measuring stick for human fallibility has met his Maker, the eternal bane of the Jenkins clan will haunt them no more, and the family Trust is, at long last, safe; Captain Giles Jenkins has, to quote the immortal Bob Duport, “dropped off the hooks.” He was a minor pest, true, but a consistent one; I find myself somewhat shocked at his sudden expiration, and I cannot help but feel that this was kind of a massive oversight on Myra Erdleigh’s part. If she can’t be relied upon to predict such a simple thing as death, then clearly no one is safe.

Uncle Giles, rest in peace. I never liked you much, but I did rather expect Nick to show a little human emotion over your untimely demise. It isn’t your fault you had a lousy horoscope, after all.

In Anthony Powell’s A Dance to the Music of Time, our narrator, Nick Jenkins, seems to be the only one in the world with any kind of-I hesitate to call it affection, but tolerance, at least, for his Uncle Giles (Myra Erdleigh’s devotion seems downright heroic until one learns that she is the sole beneficiary of Giles’ will). We know that Nick is not forthcoming with details about those he loves, so the fact that he is positively chatty about Uncle Giles ought to have tipped us off to his true feelings. Consider the situation: Nick has been sent, as the lone representative of the Jenkins family, to pay his last respects to an uncle who has fascinated him since he was a boy. This man was a nomad, effectively alone in the world, despised by his own kin, and born under an unlucky conjunction of planets-by any standards, a sad story. And yet, as our narrator sorts through the few pathetic items that are the only indication his uncle ever lived and breathed, is he moved to tears? Does he think fondly of the Giles of old? Does he even feel the faintest passing sense of regret? Hardly. Nick Jenkins, our reticent and collected narrator, is practically giggling.

Nick openly mocks the wording of the Officer’s Commission that he finds in Giles’ bag, even going so far as to say “Trusty and wellbeloved were not the terms in which his own kith and kin had thought of Uncle Giles for a long time now … no doubt the Queen had been badly advised in the first instance. She must have been vexed and disappointed.” (157) This is not one of his cold-blooded analyses of a character’s flaws. This is not even his usual brand of subtle humor. Nick is, God help us, joking. At the expense of a family member. The mind boggles.

I never thought that Nick saw Uncle Giles as a soul mate, of course, but I didn’t think he would be quite so callously indifferent to his death, either. For the first few books, new characters were introduced and compared to Uncle Giles in almost the same breath. I always assumed Nick was using Giles as standard of measurement simply because he was convenient, familiar, and relatively uncomplicated, but in light of this new scene, I have to wonder if Nick merely wished to point out that almost anyone was better than his uncle. At the end of A Question of Upbringing, Nick is grateful for the opportunity to have dinner with Giles after being abandoned by Stringham, but even that is more the relief of a young man seeing a familiar adult face in the middle of a confusing new city than real affection.

Towards the end of the passage, I was relieved to read what I thought was the beginning of remorse, “I could not help thinking at the same time that facile irony at my uncle’s expense could go too far,” (159) but alas, Nick only meant to note that his own impending military career was not as laughable as Giles’.

Throughout this passage, Nick jokes at his uncle’s expense the same way one would joke at the expense of a child who does not know any better and cannot defend himself, and in much the same way that General Conyers treats Giles at the beginning of the book. Perhaps this is another example of Nick following Conyers’ lead, but that is another paper. More likely, Nick is just taking advantage of the opportunity to poke fun at a relative he never liked much anyway. And, while I cannot approve on principle, I can’t say that I really blame him either.

Gula, Superbia, Ira, Acedia, Avaritia, Invidia and Luxuria; the Seven Deadly Sins as they appear in Anthony Powell’s The Kindly Ones. It is appropriate that Powell uses the middle book in his novel for an assessment of the characters the reader has met up to this point despite the fact that a number of significant characters are not at the party and thus, not receiving the analysis of Sir Magnus Donners as he assigns roles. The dinner represents the purest moment of comprehension as to how Powell wishes each character to be portrayed up to this point. Powell’s characterization is demonstrated through Sir Magnus and it is accurate for some individuals, but for others, it is difficult to see why Powell assigned that particular sin to him or her. Perhaps the reason will be revealed in subsequent books, but we do have enough evidence to accurately assess the majority of the sins and their assignments.

Sir Magnus divvies up the sins accordingly, asking Moreland to pose first with Gluttony. Moreland exhibits some symptoms that would suggest his Sin being appropriately allocated. While he is not overweight and there is no evidence of him eating excessive amounts of food at any point in the novel, it appears he has a wide encompassing knowledge of the menu at Casanova’s Chinese Restaurant where Nick, “under Morelands’s guidance … embarked upon one of the specialties of the house.”(CCR 31) This understanding of the menu suggests he may well wine and dine there too much, and after allotting the Sin to him, Sir Magnus says he “often hears you (Moreland) praise the pleasures of the table above all others.” (KO 126) Furthermore, after the photograph is taken, Moreland “shall continue to act the Sin for the rest of the evening … pouring out more Kümmel, this time into a tumbler.” (KO 128) While this is only a quick comment and Sir Magnus continues dealing out the sins, it is exactly how Powell has shared insight with regard to other characters so far in the novel.

Isobel is selected next for Pride choosing Anne Umfraville as a partner to help her act the part. We already know that Isobel can be “a bit of a highbrow when she isn’t going out to night clubs” (ALM 19), according to Chips Lovell, even before we meet her, so right away Sir Magnus has chosen well in his assessment of her capabilities of acting with Pride. After they return from dressing themselves, Nick thinks “Isobel looked the personification of Pride.” (KO 128) Isobel and Anne both come from very comfortable backgrounds, something Nick notes by saying they “displayed … the abounding physical vitality of big aristocratic families, their absolute disregard for personal dignity … never released … so completely by any other class.” (KO 128) Powell is able to reveal these characterizations through Nick as Nick believes both Isobel and Anne are perfect to represent Pride.

For Anne Umfraville, or Lady Anne Stepney as she is known earlier in the novel, representing Anger does not appear well founded. We know little to nothing about her character; only that she is the former wife of Dicky Umfraville and the two of them never got along, mainly because she was much younger than he. When Nick and Ted Jeavons meet by chance while Ted is on one of his pub crawls they end up going to Dicky’s club. It is here that Ted says Anne was “Badly brought up. Been taken down a peg or two, I hope. Bad luck on Eddie Bridgnorth to have a girl like that. Done nothing to deserve it.” (ALM 182) There is a possibility that gossip like this has reached her ears and has made her into an angry person, but Nick has no first hand experience that gives any insight as to why she would be considered by Sir Magnus an angry person. Perhaps Powell is foreshadowing an event that will involve Anne and Isobel where she will be performing similar violent actions such as “Anger provoked by Pride” (TKO 129) but up until this point there is no concrete reason behind giving Anne Anger.

Nick’s interpretation of Sloth goes very much unnoticed, which is not surprising as much of what Nick does throughout the novel is not analyzed deeply. This is one of the Sins that Sir Magnus seems to assign by default, as it is the final Sin to be allotted and thus Nick has no say in representing any other. However, there is some validity to this assignment despite the fact that Sir Magnus is sure the sin is “quite inappropriate” (KO 127) and there are “no personal implications” (KO 127) There are some people who feel Nick’s profession as a screenwriter is a rather pathetic excuse for a job.

Another more recent example of Nick’s laziness is his struggle to procure a post in the Army now that World War II is upon England. The conversation he has with Widmerpool is revealing, as we know Widmerpool does not hold back from speaking his mind. “`The fact is, you ought to have joined the Territorials before war broke out.’ `There were difficulties in age.’ `Only after you’d left it too late…Never mind. Think how long I’ve been a Territorial officer. You should have looked ahead.'” (KO 220) Widmerpool is openly critical of Jenkins and his laziness, so while Sir Magnus did not think too much of giving Nick Sloth, Powell was subtly delivering a message revealing his true thoughts about Nick, perhaps giving us insight to a side of Powell’s life he didn’t want many people to see.

Matilda Wilson represents her sin better than any other. She is in a position to envy and be envied. She was once the mistress of Sir Magnus Donners, a position where one can reap hefty benefits both financially and socially. Now that Anne Umfraville fills that role, it is evident that Matilda is envious of her: “She stood absolutely upright, her face contorted. The glance, inasmuch as it was canalized seemed aimed ion the direction of Anne Umfraville.” (KO 130) Her look at Anne can be seen as a direct channeling of her envy: “Matilda was less prepared to accept Anne Umfraville.” (TKO 129) She had also “draped herself in a long green robe…” (KO 129) because she is envious of Anne.

The robe that is draped over her shoulders can also be to attract attention to her; making people envious of her. She is, after all, a professional actress with “a reputation to sustain.” (KO 129) Nick states that the temperature of the room changed, becoming colder, as she was posing for her photograph. She wants everyone to be drawn to her, for after her picture is taken “There was some clapping. There appeared to be no other way of bringing Matilda back to earth.” (KO 130) At the very least Matilda has succeeded in making the members of the party envious of her, but at the same time, she has shown some envy of her own, for the position Anne holds with Sir Magnus.

Betty Templer portrays Greed next but at first it seems there is no real reason for her to represent this Sin. Sir Magnus seems to assign this one by default as well, as to not lay too much of a burden on her, but she really does a good job portraying Greed. She is very soft spoken, and does not require much attention, although it is clear that she wants more from Templer than she gets. She is greedy for his affection and attention, not in a lustful, sexual sense. He spends more time flirting with other women and giving them his attention rather than interacting with her. Her eventual breakdown demonstrates a sort of frustrated Greed.

If there was a person to represent their respective sin as well as Matilda represents Envy, it is Peter Templer and Lust. Nick immediately notes that Templer had “now entirely thrown off the distant, almost formal air he had shown earlier in the day. He was more like himself when I had known him years before.” (KO 131) This being the Templer who returned to his dormitory late after a weekend in London, claiming he has spent an afternoon with a tart, during his teenage years none-the-less, which he later backed up with a story. He is clearly enjoying all the attention because it is making him feel young again, bringing him back to perhaps what he feels as his finer days.

Anthony Powell, while usually using Nick as his main character for sharing his characterizations and messages, instead uses Sir Magnus Donners to bring certain characteristics to light. The Seven Deadly Sins are the ultimate form to reveal each character’s flaws and Powell masterfully uses Sir Magnus to reveal each character’s tendencies to succumb to the wickedness of Sin.

During The Kindly Ones, Nick and Isobel go to a party where they dress up and portray two of the seven deadly sins: Sloth and Pride respectively. Through this book, as well as the others, Nick rarely talks about things and people that are extremely close to him. This reticence extends to talking about his relationship with his wife. Yet, during this one scene, Powell reveals more of Nick and Isobel’s personality.

Nick’s assigned sin is Sloth. As Sir Magnus says: “I fear there is nothing left for you [Nick] but Sloth. There are, of course, no personal implications, I am sure it is quite inappropriate…” (127). Sir Magnus, a good judge of character, thinks that Nick is not lazy. However, being lazy is not quite the same as Sloth. Nick’s own interpretation of Sloth is a little bit clichéd: “My own enactment of Sloth required not histrionic ability beyond lying on the table supported by piles of cushions” (129). Nick is not a naturally slothful person, and thus his impression of Sloth is a clichéd version. Although adequate, this interpretation lacks a certain, deliberate avoidance of exertion that is true Sloth. In fact, Nick is quite an active person, and tends to deal with life as it comes, including dealing with Uncle Giles death later in the book: “I found myself charged with that duty. There was, indeed, no one else to do the job” (147). Nick takes on the duty of overseeing his uncle’s estate with a sort of vigor, similar to how he approaches all of life. This conflict between Nick’s assigned sin and his real attitude towards life creates the humor evident while Sir Magnus is taking pictures of the seven deadly sins.

Isobel’s assigned sin is Pride. She is, after all, from a fairly prominent family, as her father was Lord Warminster. However, she is not the least bit prideful: “Here, before us, in these two [Isobel and Anne], was displayed the nursery and playroom life of generations of ‘great houses’…” (129). Isobel’s interpretation of Pride is a rather childish interpretation, a sort of playacting, because she does not know exactly what Pride is. Powell shows that although Isobel grew up in a “great house” she does not actual exhibit any pride about it. Ironically, it is actually Nick who exhibits pride about Isobel: “that passionate return to childhood, never released so fully in any other country, or, even in this country, so completely by any other class” (129). Nick is both envious of his wife’s upbringing, and proud of his relationship with her. This rare glimpse into Nick’s subconscious shows us just how much he is in love with her.

In revealing some more of Nick and Isobel’s personality, Powell also urges the reader to think about Nick and Isobel’s relationship and how it relates to their sins. Nick and Isobel’s relationship is very strong, as they stay together until the end of the series. The assignment of their sins, as well as their interpretations of these sins reflects a little bit of their relationship. First of all, the sins themselves are, compared to the other ones, fairly harmless. Powell is arguing that these two sins are related to each other, in much the same way that Nick and Isobel are. Therefore, Pride and Sloth share an intimate bond, and it is rare to have one and not the other. Pride can cause Sloth, and Sloth can instill a sort of Pride at the same time. The relationship between these sins show Powell’s own opinion about the sins: that these two sins are linked together forever.

Throughout A Dance to the Music of Time Anthony Powell’s life has been a basic model for the events experienced by Nick Jenkins. When we finally meet Nick’s family after five novels the characters of Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins are an obvious nod to Powell’s own parents. The similar family life and living conditions between Nick and Powell gives us greater insight into both of their characters. Though the information about both families is limited, we are given just enough information to make educated inferences to the experience of an early 20th century only-child of a military officer on the English countryside.

Powell’s father, Philip Lionel Powell, was an army infantry officer who rose to the rank of Colonel and company commander in World War I (Understanding AP 1). After the war he received honors of Commander of the British Empire and Distinguished Service Officer (1). His mother, Maud Wells-Dymoke, came from a family with “no exalted kings or princes in their history, but instead had parsons and squires… though young Powell might qualify by birth as one of the privileged classes, he began life pretty much on the fringes” (2). Growing up in a family of a respected military officer but without any genealogical status, Powell was humbled by his parent’s modest position in society. These small facts are all that is known about the Powell family, even in his memoirs Powell gives little to no detail of the personalities of these important people in his life, not unlike Nick throughout The Dance. We know that in the Victorian period fathers were typically remote and mothers in charge of ordering the help to maintain the house, but these vague generalizations and sparse facts about his mother and father are all of the details we are offered by Powell.

Through Nick Jenkins we are able to get a better sense of the possible home life Powell experienced. We are given the most detail about his father, a military officer who was present at peace talks at the end of WWI. Due to his involvement in the military he was “saddled with the equally serious military- indeed, also civilian -handicap of chronic inability to be obsequious to superiors in rank” (KO 36). This feeling of chronic inferiority may have contributed to his melancholy persona. In turn, he was painfully sensitive to criticism and “had little to no aptitude for sport of any sort and his health was not good… he disliked not only books, but also people- even places -that threatened to [make him think]” (37).. He had an “absolute passion for power” though he was never in a particular position to wield it, “in his own house he was the only one allowed to criticize” (38). Nick’s inability to express critical opinions among his family may be the sole reason his novels are compilation of events and other’s observations, all generally excluding a critique from Nick. This character trait is already expressed in Nick’s childhood as when he recounts the name and family standings of those children he is tutored with. Nick’s mother is seemingly removed from particular influence within the family. Her sole duty is that of the typical Victorian woman within the home. Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins’ relationship was agreeably bound to “a life entirely enclosed by their own domestic interests” (23).

The Jenkins’ marriage is steady and loving like the Powell’s and the details given in The Kindly Ones help paint a better picture of Powell’s experience. The only way Powell was able to write about his father in a true sense was in a fictional character for fear of offending him. In his writing of A Dance to the Music of Time he is still unable to be critical of others and relies on his tendency to “go into matter thoroughly,” as commented by General Conyers (KO 51). Though neither Powell or Nick’s families were able to provide them with exceeding wealth or social standing, their childhood experiences cultivated in them a conspicuous attention to detail with a Victorian reserve that indeed became their “secret of success in life” (KO 51).

Source:
Understanding Anthony Powell. Nicholas Birns . University of South Carolina Press, 2004.

As we have come across many character models in A Dance to the Music of Time, such as Constant Lambert for Hugh Moreland and George Orwell for Lord Warminster, it can only be assumed that Anthony Powell himself is a model for the narrator, Nick Jenkins. This becomes especially clear in The Kindly Ones, as Powell finally reveals Nick’s childhood through flashbacks and details about his parents. Many aspects of Powell’s early life prove to be reflected in some way to Nick’s experiences as a child.

First off, Powell’s parents bear striking resemblances to Nick’s parents in their mannerisms and way of life. Powell’s mother “above all things detested having attention drawn to herself, even in a complimentary manner.” Likewise, Nick’s mother does not enjoy “going out” and has a great distaste for officers’ wives, or `regimental’ ladies.(22) She stays to herself and seems rather reserved from what we know of her in the novel. Mrs. Powell and Mrs. Jenkins also both share a common belief in occultism. Powell’s mother always showed a slight interest in divination as he stated in his memoirs, “my mother possessed none of her sisters and mother in laws fortune telling flair, although in her younger days she had no opposition to the Occult and its byways. She retained a life long interest in Christian science.” Similarly, in The Kindly Ones, Jenkins describes how “my mother- together with her sisters in their unmarried days- had always indulged a taste for investigation of the Unseen World.(5)” Powell’s grandmother was also much devoted to such pursuits as occultism and fortune-telling. All of this exposure to the Occult as a child offers a possible explanation of all the references to divination in A Dance to the Music of Time, particularly in The Acceptance World when the characters play Planchette and Mrs. Erdleigh brings out her fortune-telling cards.

Just as Powell’s mother resembles Nick’s, his father can be related to the character of Nick’s father. For six years during his early childhood, Powell’s father was posted to the Kensington Regiment, a London battalion of the Territorial Army. During this time, their family lived in a flat in Kensington. In 1913 his father rejoined the regiment at Aldershot, and the family moved to Stonehurst. In the novel, Jenkins’ father is also involved in the war and stationed at Aldershot. Inevitably, a job in the military comes with a military lifestyle, which both Powell’s and Jenkins’ parents also successfully survive. Anthony Powell sums this up in his memoirs writing: “my parents’ marriage was a wholehearted success.” In the Dance, before marriage, Nick’s mom was “keen enough on parties and balls, but, my father, having little or no distaste for such amusements, she forgot about them herself, then developed greater dislike than his own.(22)” However, Nick’s father does have a character flaw that “Happy marriage did not cure.(37)” The idea for this flaw probably originated from the elder Mr. Powell’s personality, who is said to possess an untranquil temperament, having rows and showing himself difficult at many times. Nick’s father apparently shares this characteristic as he mentions in the novel, “my father would sometimes rebel against this aggressive, even contagious, depression- to which he himself was no stranger- and then there would be a row. (12)” He feels that “all tragedies are major tragedies…especially if he himself is in any way concerned.(27)” It is clear that Powell used many observations of his own parents to create Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins.

Just as the characters in the dance are modeled on Powell’s actual life, the places are as well. In particular, Stonehurst is not an imaginary place, but rather a large, furnished bungalow where Powell spent many of his childhood years. He also notes memories of the appearances of a cult leader who ran past the gates from time to time with his followers, similar to Dr. Trelawney. Powell even states, “We lived in a large bungalow of Indian type, let furnished, its situation on the top of a lonely hill, surrounded by heather, gorse, pines, sandy hollows skirted with bracken. A fairly close description of the bungalow appears in my novel, in which the house is called Stonehurst.”

One last parallel that can be drawn from Powell’s life to the occurrences in the novel is the ghost incident. In his memoirs, Powell tells how his own mother encountered ghosts at Stonehurst. Their family owned many animals, many of which slept on her bed. He explains, “one night, my mother awakened by the thud of a smallish animal jumping on her bed… however, the thing landed near the foot of the bed and slowly worked its way up, until pressing down the bedclothes just below her neck. This visitation took place several times.” When we begin The Kindly Ones, we learn of the ghosts immediately, as they are “a recognized feature of Stonehurst.(4)” Nick narrates, “my mother admitted to a recurrent sense, sometimes even in the day, of an uncomfortable presence in her bedroom …; at night, she had waked once or twice overwhelmed with an inexplicable feeling of doom and horror.(4)” As talk of ghosts was not curtailed in Nick’s childhood, it is not surprising to find these references in The Kindly Ones.

Anthony Powell uses much of his own life as a model for the plot in The Dance To the Music of Time. The details of Powell’s life are, as might be expected, very substantially the same as Nick Jenkins’s. An examination of Powell’s memoirs reveals that much of the narrator’s childhood is in fact drawn from Powell’s life.

Sources:
Brooke Allen. “The Unauthorized Anthony Powell.”
http://newcriterion.com:81/archive/23/sept04/powell.htm

John Potter. “The Novelist and His Narrator: Anthony Powell and Nicholas Jenkins.”

Anthony Powell. To Keep the Ball Rolling: The Memoirs of Anthony Powell.

Anthony Powell’s A Dance to the Music of Time sequence cannot properly be described without mentioning its use of ancient references. Seemingly, every scene in The Dance is peppered with similes and images from the ancient world. Even the name of the series is taken from a classical painting featuring personifications of the Four Seasons, dressed in traditional Roman clothing. However, as rampant as the references are in the first five books, Powell takes it to an extreme in The Kindly Ones. There is, of course, the fact that the book’s title is taken from the Greek gods, the Eumenides, but “The Kindly Ones” takes the ancient theme to a new level: it actually casts its characters into situations from classical literature. One example of this is Dr. Trelawney, who, besides being a very strange person, shows many traits associated with ancient prophets, including a very prophetic conversation he has with Nick and Duport. This characterization of Trelawney as a prophet, along with other ancient allusions, work to accentuate the fact that an epic war is coming very soon.

Classical prophets tended to be very reclusive. For the most part, they lived outside of society, on mountains or in sanctuaries, and were not allowed to come down. An example of this was the oracle at Delphi, who lived in a mountainside sanctuary. Also, there was always a great deal of fear when it came to prophets, because they were powerful enough to converse with the gods. That power bred a lot of anxiety and, at times, even contempt.

Dr. Trelawney certainly fits the description of a recluse. When we first see him, he’s in charge of a religious commune in the same town as Nick’s childhood house. He is regarded in part as a visionary, but also as a fake. “…there remained an unbridgeable margin of doubt as to whether he was a holy man-at least a very simple and virtuous one-whose unconventional behaviour was to be tolerated, even applauded, or a charlatan …” (KO, pg. 29) Trelawney produces the same sort of reaction in others that prophets once did: somewhere between admiration and contempt. Also, when we first meet him, Trelawney lives in a commune, isolated entirely from the outside world, much like prophets were. And even when he leaves the commune, he moves into the Bellevue, an out of the way seaside inn. He chooses to stay on the outskirts of English society, rather than moving to London or somewhere more central.

Trelawney also matches up with classical prophets in the way he delivers prophecies. The Delphic oracle, for example, was basically drugged, and then she would shout things out, and priests would interpret these cries and write them down as prophecies. Most of these prophecies, since they were coming from someone high on drugs, were not very coherent. They were often filled with ancient references and riddles that had to be deciphered and then interpreted. Despite this, according to Romans and Greeks, the prophets were rarely, if ever, wrong.

Trelawney, like the prophets, seems to be reliant on drugs. When he gets stuck in the Bellevue bathroom, he yells to call Mrs. Erdleigh, and for her to bring his pills. “I must have my pills!” he says. (KO, 184) And later, as he’s lying in bed, talking with Nick and Duport, his speech is very prophetic, laced with ancient references to “the sword of Mithras” and “the slayer of Osiris.” When asked the very direct question of whether World War II was avoidable, he responds with a riddle, “…the future is ever the consequence of the past.” (KO,192) Beyond all of these basic similarities, there’s the fact that Trelawney’s predictions come true. Just before World War I, he says “the portents are unfavourable. There is no doubt of that.” (KO, 65) And, in his prophecy to Duport and Nick before World War II, he says “The Angel of Death will ride the storm,” and “The god, Mars, approaches the earth to lay waste.” (KO, 192) In other words, Trelawney is saying there will be war, and, obviously, he is proven right in both instances.

There is one more characteristic Trelawney shares with ancient prophets: like Tiresias in the Oedipus cycle or the Cumaean Sibyl in the Aeneid, he is a larger than life characters who only become important in everyday affairs to signal that something bad is about to happen. He appears twice in the entire series: once right before each world war, and then he disappears from Nick’s life entirely. In that sense, he is tied in very closely to the concept of war.

There are other examples of the ancient tied in with war in The Kindly Ones. On page 199, Nick is haunted by a dream of Trelawney in an army uniform the night Russia and Germany sign a non-aggression pact. This kind of thing happened a lot in Greco-Roman literature. In the Aeneid, for example, Aeneas is haunted by the spirit of Hector minutes before the Greeks invaded Troy. And, more generally, the Kindly Ones, after whom the book is named, are the Greek harbingers of death and war.

By putting these particular references into “The Kindly Ones,” Powell emphasizes World War II as a massive, historic struggle, causing the same sorts of disturbances that the Trojan War did, for example, with Nick’s dream sequence. That emphasis, along with the emphasis all the characters have placed on the coming war, throws the focus of the entire novel onto World War II. The Kindly Ones, then, basically acts like a movie trailer, a preview of coming attractions, so to speak, for the grand and epic struggle to come.

We would like to think that Nick Jenkins is a trustworthy narrator. Throughout A Dance to the Music of Time, his relative detachment from the events he relates seems to indicate that he is unbiased toward the other characters in the story. He even seems to willingly omit information about characters that he cannot tell us about in an unbiased fashion, such as his wife and parents. In The Kindly Ones, however, we notice one character that Nick seems to dislike too unreasonably to provide an unbiased opinion. In the third chapter, Nick meets Bob Duport again for the first time since the first book in the series.

Back when we first met Duport, it was clear that Nick did not like him very much, since he was also after Jean. In most other respects, however, he seems similar to Nick’s friend Peter Templer. Even Nick himself makes note of this similarity. “[Duport] had that indefinable air of being up to no good that characterized Peter himself.” (QU, 191) It seems reasonable therefore, that since Nick is no longer in love with Jean, that his impression of Bob might improve. However, when Nick meets Duport again at the Bellevue, we find that this is not the case. Nick seems to hate him as much as ever.

From the beginning, we have seen the similarities between Duport and Templer. Both are stockbrokers who are interested in material things like “fast sports car[s], loud checks, blonds, [and] golf.” (KO, 99) While Templer complains about the state of Duport’s marital affairs, Templer’s own marriages have not fared much better than Duport’s. Though Templer’s marriage might not have been plagued by affairs, Duport’s marriage lasted much longer than Templer’s before a divorce.

Upon seeing Duport again in the Bellevue, Nick makes a comment that he “[did] not like the way Duport behaved.” (KO, 163-164) This seems odd, since much of his behavior is quite similar to what we have seen from Peter Templer in the past. Both of them show very little interest in Nick’s writing career, or anything else highbrow. They also, unlike Nick, seem to have a rather skeptical view of the spiritual. Templer treats the Planchette board as sort of a joke, and Duport seems to take quite lightly Dr. Trelawney’s talk of “the sword of Mithras…flash[ing] from its scabbard.” (KO, 192) All in all, there seems very little in Duport’s behavior that might offend Nick that is not part of Templer’s behavior as well.

We know that Nick has a history with Duport which is undoubtedly one reason that Nick’s vision is so colored. He even says himself that “although I loved [Jean] no longer, our relationship had secreted this distasteful residue, an unalterable, if hidden, tie with her ex-husband.” (KO, 163) Still, it seems that Duport does not deserve the loathing that he receives from Nick. It is not he that took Jean away from Nick, but in some ways, the other way around. Duport at the very least might be entitled to some sympathy from Nick, especially when the conversation turns to Jean’s many affairs. When Nick finds out about her affair with Jimmy Brent, all he can focus on is his own surprise. “I felt as if someone had suddenly kicked my legs out from under me, so that I had landed on the other side of the room, not exactly hurt, but thoroughly ruffled, with all the breath knocked out of me.” (KO, 178) The only feeling remotely resembling sympathy from Nick is his momentary urge to tell Duport about his own affair, but that is quickly silenced by other thoughts.

There is another possibility for the difference between Nick’s views of Peter and of Bob. Perhaps it is not that Nick dislikes Duport much more than he ought, but that he likes Templer more than he should. Nick and Peter have a shared history, and a friendship (or what remains of one) that has built up over many years. Even when he first knew Templer at Eton, Nick was unsure about whether he liked him, since Templer’s “boast that he had never read a book for pleasure in his life did not predispose me in his favor.” (QU, 8) Nick was with Templer for the Old Boy dinner, and he was the one who introduced Templer to J.G. Quiggin, whom Templer’s first wife, Mona, would leave him for. Nick has watched the ups and downs in Templer’s life, and perhaps his sympathy for him comes from years of acquaintance, which cannot be substituted, in Duport’s case, with several minutes in a bar.

Perhaps it is in Nick’s nature to hold a grudge. It seems just as well that if our narrator’s memories last as long as they do, his grudges, or his sympathies, might last for a long time as well. Just as Nick’s past affair with Jean sours his relationship with Duport, so do his memories with Templer improve Nick’s impression of him. One thing is for certain: though he may seem reliable on many occasions, we see from his opinion of Bob Duport that Nick is not always a perfect narrator, and perhaps in the future, we may need to take some of his opinions with a grain of salt.

The first chapter of Anthony Powell’s The Kindly Ones is not the continuation of Nick’s narrated adult life, rather a short novella describing his childhood and the people he grew up around. For the most part, Nick lived in an isolated environment. There were seldom other kids at Stonehurst, and guests were not too frequent. This meant that instead of making childhood friends, as most kids do, Nick spent his time acquainting himself with the house staff; three of its more exotic figures in particular. Within the first three pages of the chapter, we learn of Albert, Bracey and Billison, Stonehurst’s cook, soldier-servant and one of the maids respectively. Not long after their introductions we are informed of their most unusual love triangle, or line perhaps. Billison fancies Albert, while at the same time, Bracey fancies Billison. Interestingly enough, if Billison for some reason decided to turn her attentions to Bracey, all three characters would find themselves much happier than in the current situation.

The reason for which Billison fancies Albert still eludes me. He is one of the most disagreeable characters we meet. Lacking enterprise and indolent are two of many negative adjectives used to describe him. He is in fact, such a bizarre person, that not even Nick can place, or figure him out. “The question why he should prefer employment with a family who lived on so unpretentious a scale, when he might have found little or no difficulty in obtaining a situation as chef in much grander circumstances, with more money and greater prestige, is not easily resolved. He was not keen on Stonehurst as place of residence. He often said so.” Albert, for the duration of his stay at Stonehurst, did not even live in the house, he made the stables his place of residence, alluding to his anti-social tendencies and his ability to create conflict with the other residents. Of course, being the easily frightened, anxious man he was, Albert usually was the person to end, as well as start the fight. “A nervous man, he disliked violence, blood, suffragettes, anything of that kind. He was always for keeping the peace in the kitchen, even when his own scathing comments had started the trouble.” Albert and Billison’s relationship was doomed from the start. Between, Albert’s difficult personality and his “fear of being chronically persecuted by women,” and Billison’s distaste for men in general, possibly stemming from Albert’s complete negation of her desire, there is little that those two could ever share together.

Bracey is in many ways Albert’s opposite, a soldier with an unparalleled work ethic, possessing feelings for Billison not harbored by Albert. It would seem that Bracey and Billison would make a fine match. Bracey, while also disliking violence to a certain extent, is not jumpy or easily spooked, is reasonably level-headed, with the exception of his “funny days” and does not create conflict nearly as much as Albert does. Being easily frightened herself, Billison needs a man who will stand up for her, not hide under the bed next to her. Of course, Bracey is not perfect, after all no one is. He is illiterate, and somewhat of an robot. His strict views on right and wrong and position in life, could easily be, and are sometimes points of contempt for Billison, as shown when she gives the boy a slice of cake. “Always inclined to hysteria, she was thoroughly upset by Bracey’s strictures, no doubt all the more severe on account of his own warm feelings for her.” Bracey’s few negative attributes aside, Billison cannot return his feelings for one simple and seemingly petty reason.

“Nice girls don’t walk out with soldiers.” Nick once asked Billison why she didn’t just marry Bracey, seeing the obvious connection between the two. Billison’s response is most likely the cause of Bracey’s “funny days,” some of them at least. The knowledge that Billison can’t and won’t love him because of his position in life must be devastating. It’s not something he can simply go about and change. It’s an integral part of him. His life as a soldier defines who he is, and because of what was then a common prejudice, “A parallel prejudice against military companionship was shared by Edith,” Billison will never be with him. I feel it is too bad for all three characters that the situation played out as it did, none of them getting what they wanted, with the possible exception of Albert, for who knows what he wanted. Should the roles have been slightly reversed, I believe there could have been a happy ending for at least Billison and Bracey, if not Albert as well.

Anthony Powell’s The Kindly Ones takes place just before both the world wars and, as we finally learn, Nick was raised in military family. Therefore several characters are or become military men. Nick as a kid states that he plans on career in the military. Powell, much like Nick, also grew up in a military family. During World War II Powell joined the Territorials, Britain’s reserve force, as a second lieutenant. The wikipedia article on Powell, in reference to his military experience before becoming a Territorial officer, says, “Quite apart from the inadequacy of this preparation, a great deal had changed in weaponry, drill and procedure.” Powell’s depiction of military personnel likely reflects his experience serving during World War II. It seems that most of the officers in The Kindly Ones can also be described as having inadequate preparation for their positions. Powell gives a very bad impression of officers and military men.

The reader is only given a small glimpse of enlisted men in The Kindly Ones, but in that small glimpse Powell gives the impression that they are not fit for any sort of combat. The most prominent enlisted man in the story is Bracey. Nick’s father says of Bracey, “He has his faults, of course, but he does know the meaning of elbow-grease” (KO 14). Bracey has his “funny days”, however, and in terms of his combat effectiveness, that fault must clearly outweigh this small praise. A “funny day” being a day where Bracey would “sit on a kitchen-chair, facing the wall, speaking to no one, motionless as a man fallen into a state of catalepsy” (KO 12). Although Bracey is a soldier-servant, his “funny days” are not restricted to his time at Stonehurst. Nick mentions that a “funny day in barracks,” was less provoking than a “funny day” in Stonehurst. Although Nick’s view that a “funny day” is not very disruptive to Bracey’s comrades in barracks may be reasonable during peace time, Bracey’s behavior does not lend itself to an affective soldier. Indeed Bracey is killed in action during World War I.

Nick describes only one other encounter with enlisted men and they seem no more fit for combat than Bracey. While visiting the barracks to see a football game, Nick sees a soldier under arrest and questions Bracey. “Chopped off his trigger finger” (KO 25). Bracey explains. The soldier cut off his finger rather than be sent to India. Nick fails to describe much else about the soldiers or barracks during his trip with Bracey. This small, negative glimpse into the disreputable aspects of the military does not put Nick off but “on the contrary, they provided an additional touch of uneasy excitement” (TKO 26). However the overall picture Powell leaves with the reader is rather the opposite of the impression left on Nick; Powell gives the reader an impression of soldiering being unpleasant, and soldiers failing to carry out their duty.

Powell’s officer-characters in The Kindly Ones seem no more competent than the enlisted men and, because of their leadership positions, leave an even worse impression on the reader. Nick tells Widmerpool, “the object of joining the Reserve – being accepted for it – was to be dealt with immediately as a potential officer” (KO 220). Nick, however, has nothing that qualifies him to be immediately considered as an officer. Nick’s father, General Conyers, Uncle Giles, and Widmerpool are all officers of varying ranks and yet, like Nick, none of them are ever described as having any qualifications that make them particularly suited to their positions.

Nick, when he collects Uncle Giles belongings, finds Giles’ commission letter and describes just how unfit Giles is to be an officer. In the commission the Queen addresses Giles as “Trusy and well-beloved” while Nick says “Trusty and well-beloved were not the terms in which is own kith and had thought of Giles” (KO 157). Nick also says, “No doubt the Queen had been badly advised,” and later, “she had been pleased to appoint Uncle Giles to a higher rank, instead of quietly – and far more wisely – dispensing with his services at the very first available opportunity.” Nick makes it very clear that he does not believe Uncle Giles was suited to being an officer. Indeed, given the behavior demonstrated by Giles throughout The Dance the reader is very much inclined to agree with Nick.

Widmerpool, possibly the last person both the reader and Nick would ever have expected to become an officer, is also a captain in The Kindly Ones. When he first sees Widmerpool in uniform Nick comments, “The sight of him in uniform struck a chill through my bones… that was not because Widmerpool himself looked innately military. On the contrary” (KO 134). Nick is shocked by the realization that Widmerpool has truly become an officer. As usual, Widmerpool overstates his own importance when Nick visits him; typical of Widmerpool, he tells his secretary to describe him as “embodied”. Somehow, despite the fact that Widmerpool does not posses any qualities that would make him a leader, he has managed to get a commission as a captain. Nick seems to think it shows how inevitable war is if, clearly out of desperation, Widmerpool was taken as an officer. Desperation or not, Powell gives a very bad impression indeed of the Territorials by making Widmerpool one of their officers, their leaders.

The two characters who partially redeem the image of military personnel are Nick’s father and General Conyers, yet even they seem a bit out of place as army officers. General Conyers is actually a Brigadier General, the lowest rank of General, and ended his career early. Such a decision shows, in a way, a lack of commitment. Nick also tells us that Conyers talks of how much fixing the current military needs, and yet he left a position that would have allowed him to take action on that front. While Nick does say Conyers is “universally recognized as a first rate soldier” Uncle Giles says instead the general “may be a good tactician… at least that is what he is always telling everyone” (KO 52). Uncle Giles’ statement gives the sense that Conyers may claim ability, but that he never proved it in action.

Nick’s narration gives no reason to suspect his father as being incompetent, and yet he does say his father has the “military… handicap of chronic inability to be obsequious to his superiors in rank” (KO 36). That handicap is really a virtue in many ways, but Nick’s statement implies that any higher ranking officer posses that unpleasant quality his father lacks. Nick also states, “my father had an absolute passion for power” (KO 38). A passion for power is not necessarily the most desirable trait in an army officer lest that passion lead to corruption or cruelty. Thus, while Nick’s father seems to be a good man overall, even he gives the reader reason to wonder at the quality officers.

The impression a reader gets from The Kindly Ones may be worse for an American since the modern American military has no tradition of gentlemen-officers. Almost all American military officers receive their commission only after graduating from very specific officer training programs. However, any reader must be left with a poor impression of Britain’s army during the World Wars. After all, any army that would accept men such as Widmerpool and Uncle Giles as captains must have gone wrong at somewhere. Powell may be exaggerating the ineptitude of the soldiers in his story, or he may have really observed that “senior officers are a lot of ballerinas” (KO 38). Either way, the window Powell provides into the military in The Kindly Ones is uninspiring and rather embarrassing in many ways.

Anthony Powell’s The Kindly Ones takes place right before the start of World War II. Throughout the novel, characters ask each other whether or not they think there will be a war, and they all have different answers. Today, we understand Hitler’s true intentions, and we can see that early intervention was probably the right response. At the time, however, this was not as clear.

For many years prior to the start of World War II, Adolf Hitler had a fair amount of support from other European countries. The Treaty of Versailles, which officially ended World War I, outlined numerous territorial, military, and legal restrictions on Germany and her allies, and ordered them to accept full responsibility for the war and to pay reparations for damages, which came to approximately $13 billion. However, the land Germany lost in the Treaty included 10% of her industry and 15% of her agriculture, making the reparations extremely difficult to pay. This was recognized by many non-Germans, who therefore had sympathy for the new Nazi government, and felt the terms of the Treaty to be unfair.

In the years following World War I, the main powers were terrified at the thought of another war in Europe. However, in the 1930’s, the threat of war became frighteningly real. Nazi Germany was becoming restless. In March of 1935, Hitler violated the Treaty of Versailles by introducing compulsory military conscription in Germany and a complete rebuild of the armed forces. While this normally would have been considered an act of war by the rest of Europe, the European nations took no action. Instead, they thought that if they gave Hitler a little of what he wanted, he would not try to get the rest by force. This policy was called German Appeasement.

The biggest proponent of German Appeasement was British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain. Just two months after Hitler began to rebuild the German Armed Forces, Hitler and Chamberlain signed the Anglo-German Naval Agreement, which allowed the German navy to expand in proportion to the British navy. This expansion was also a direct violation of the Treaty of Versailles.

By allying with the Germans, Chamberlain thought he would end the imminent threat from Nazi Germany. However, in 1936, Hitler reoccupied and remilitarized the Rhineland. Hitler was very cautious about this, and ordered his generals to immediately pull out if there was any resistance from the French, who controlled the area at the time. However, there were no repercussions.

In March of 1938, Hitler began the Anschluss, in which he supported the Austrian Nazi Party in overthrowing the Austrofascist government and therefore annexing the country. The world public saw this as a union of two governments rather than as an annexation by one, thus yet again letting Hitler off the hook.

The real turning point in German Appeasement came in 1939. In March of that year, Hitler annexed Sudetenland, the buffer zone between Germany and Czechoslovakia. Hitler demanded the area because of supposed oppression towards the Germans living in there. While Czechoslovakia began mobilizing its troops, the Western Powers begged them to comply with Hitler, hoping to avoid a war. In September, Hitler, Chamberlain, the Italian dictator Benito Mussolini, and the French Prime Minister Édouard Daladier, met in Munich to discuss the situation. Hitler not only demanded control of Sudetenland, but also immediate militarization of the area so Czechoslovakia could not react with force. Czechoslovakia was not present at these talks, and was told later that they could accept the terms of the Munich Agreement or face Germany alone. Realizing the hopelessness of the situation, Czechoslovakia agreed to the terms.

However, Hitler was not finished with Czechoslovakia. In March of 1939, Hitler invaded the rest of the country. This marked the end of German Appeasement in Western Europe. The powers agreed to attack Hitler at the next sign of aggression, which came in September of that year. Hitler invaded Poland and thus began World War II.

German Appeasement never worked because Hitler simply would not be appeased. In A Dance to the Music of Time, there is a character who also will never be appeased, no matter how hard his family tries. This character is Uncle Giles. In nearly every book so far, we see Uncle Giles hounding the Jenkins family for money from the Family Trust. It is revealed to us in The Kindly Ones, when Uncle Giles comes to visit his family at Stonehurst to talk to Nick’s father about the Family Trust, that he has been repeatedly asking for money ever since Nick was a little boy. We never find out for sure whether Uncle Giles actually ever receives any money, but we have to assume he at least occasionally does; otherwise, his constant requests for money would be pointless. His family pays Giles every time, hoping each time will be the last. However, it never is.

This Uncle Giles Appeasement echoes the German Appeasement of the 1930’s. Uncle Giles even mentions that he likes Adolf Hitler in The Kindly Ones: “I like the little man they’ve got in Germany now.” (142) Both appeasements end at approximately the same time. Uncle Giles’ death, which marks the end of the Uncle Giles Appeasement, occurs roughly at the same time as Germany’s occupation of Czechoslovakia, which marks the end of the German Appeasement. As Uncle Giles dies, World War II begins.

The Uncle Giles Appeasement is a direct parallel to the German Appeasement of the 1930’s. Uncle Giles’ comment about his approval of Hitler came at a time when it was unthinkable to say that, and it shows how Anthony Powell is trying to equate Giles to Hitler; not in ideals of course, but in how each takes advantage of his community. Uncle Giles’ death creates a big change in Nick’s life, as will the start of World War II. We shall see how Nick handles the pressures and charges of being in the service.

Bibliography:
“An Appeasement History”.
“Appeasement of Hitler”.
“Munich Agreement”.
“Rhineland”. 
“Sudetenland”.
“Treaty of Versailles”.

Nick Jenkins continues to tell the story of his many acquaintances in The Kindly Ones as they encounter a world on the brink of a treacherous war. These world events, in particular the Munich Agreement, create the foundation for the plot of this installment of the Dance.

In September of 1938, a conflict over the Sudetenland region of Czechoslovakia came to a head. Hitler threatened to invade this region, which was inhabited primarily by ethnic Germans, and then to invade the rest of Czechoslovakia. The Czechs resisted Hitler because this region formed an essential buffer zone between Germany and Czechoslovakia. Furthermore, the Czechs believed that their own army and their allies, the Soviet Union and France, would defend them. This situation worried Neville Chamberlain, the British Prime Minister, because if France supported the Czechs, Britain would be obligated to do the same.

Eager to peacefully settle this situation, Chamberlain and French Premier Edouard Daladier created the Anglo-French Proposals, which called for the “gradual annexation of Czechoslovakian territory into the German Reich.” The Czechs accepted this proposal unhappily. Thinking that Chamberlain had brought peace to Europe, the majority of Britain hailed him as a hero. Unfortunately, a few days later Hitler announced his immediate invasion of the Sudetenland region. On September 28th, Hitler surprised the world by announcing that he was open to the idea of a peaceful resolution. In an effort to satisfy Hitler, Chamberlain organized a four-power conference with Italy, Germany, Britain, and France. Notably missing from the negotiation table were the Czechs and also the Soviets. At this conference, Hitler, Chamberlain, Daladier, and Mussolini signed the Munich Agreement, which allowed the gradual annexation of Czechoslovakia to the German Reich. The next day, Chamberlain asked Hitler to sign a peace treaty between the United Kingdom and Germany. Hitler happily obliged.

Upon returning to Britain, Chamberlain was greeted with a hero’s welcome by the majority of the population. Many supported Chamberlain’s policy: that by appeasing Hitler “peace for [their] time” had been achieved. Despite the apparent, and now known as very temporary, success of the Munich Agreement, skeptics remained including the then unknown Winston Churchill. Winston Churchill addressed Parliament expressing his disgust with the Munich Agreement by saying, “We are in the presence of a disaster of the first magnitude…we have sustained a defeat without a war, the consequences of which will travel far with us along our road…. And do not suppose that this is the end. This is only the beginning of the reckoning.”

In The Kindly Ones, we encounter the characters “not long after `Munich,’ when everyone’s nerves [are] all in a thoroughly disordered state, some relieved, some more apprehensive than ever” (88). Roddy Cutts and Fettiplace-Jones, both members of Parliament, possess opposing views. Fettiplace-Jones is a “supporter of the Government’s policy” (91). His opinion on the issue, however, does not seem to be too strong as he acknowledges that Britain “must continue to prepare for the worst” and is “too wary to cut himself off entirely from dissident members of the party” like Roddy Cutts (91). 

Roddy Cutts is “in some disgrace with [the Conservative Party’s] leaders, having thrown his lot in with Churchill, Eden, and the group who had abstained from voting in the `Munich’ division” (91). Cutts, a member of the Conservative Party, morally opposes this agreement and thus goes against his party. This move demonstrates the strength of Roddy Cutts’ character and moral fiber and causes the reader to gain greater respect for Roddy Cutters, who was previously scene as a relatively weak character.

In a short conversation between Moreland and Nick, we learn both of their views. Moreland asks Nick, “Do you think this sell-out is going to prevent a war? (98)” By calling it a “sell-out,” Moreland clearly feels that Chamberlain’s signing of the Munich Agreement was a betrayal to the Czechs. In the same conversation, Nick states, “The one thing everyone can agree on is that we aren’t ready for it. There’s no point in going to war if we aren’t going to win it. Losing’s not going to help anybody” (98). This is an interesting remark because in reality many European nations overestimated Hitler’s military strength at the time. The strength of the British, French, Czech, and Soviet armies did indeed have ample resources to fight and probably win a war at this point in time.

Sir Magnus Donners never expresses his own opinion on the conflict in Czechoslovakia; other characters’ speculations make it clear that he is against the agreement. Roddy Cutts claims that “[Donners] is alleged to be absolutely out of sympathy with the Chamberlain policy” (114). Fettiplace-Jones says that Donners is “convinced that nothing could be done short of war” (92). Donners’ actions during the dinner at Stourwater indicate that his primary concern is avoiding conflict between his guests. Jenkins notices that Donners is “probably far from anxious to embark, there and then, on the rights and wrongs of Munich” (114). He readily agrees to take photographs after dinner as he saw this as his “escape from dishing up `Munich’ for the thousandth time” (122).

At the end of dinner, Templer suggests that the guests pose as “Hitler and Chamberlain at Godesberg” (123). His proposal, “certainly banal enough, is at once dismissed, not only as introducing too sinister, too depressing a note, but also as a scene devoid of attractive and colorful characters of both sexes” (123). Perhaps this is how the world treated the agreement at the time-a depressing thing to think about for with it brought the very probable possibility of war. The idea of war was surely not attractive or colorful. A mere six months later, Hitler violated the Munich Agreement by invading Czechoslovakia and then Poland. Less than a year after its signing, Britain declared war on Germany.

Sources:

Lilly, David. “British Reaction to the Munich Crisis.” Loyola University in New Orleans. 1994.

Silva, B. “The Weimar Republic” Chico Unified School District. http://www.cusd.chico.k12.ca.us/~bsilva/projects/germany/3rdreich/Weimar%20Republic.ppt#285,30,Reaction to Munich

Simkin, John. “Munich Agreement.” Spartacus Educational. 1997.

“Munich Agreement.” Wikipedia. 2008.

Billson and Albert are both domestics at the house that Nick grew up in. As a child Nick was both more aware and less aware of the feelings and intents of those around him. Even as a child Nick is aware that there is something going on between Billson and Albert, even suggesting the two of them are right for one another. Though Albert and Billson act differently, they think very similarly.

Billson came to Stonehurst from a good family, having worked at many nice houses in London. She is there because “a ‘disappointment’ made her ‘nervy’ (KO, 16).” She is frightened of being close to men; she would never mount a ladder with a man in the room, explaining the her modesty kept her from “exposing even a minute area of the female leg (KO, 17).” Despite her fear, while at Stonehurst, Billson was after Albert, showing her affection for him without getting too close. Bracey’s pessimism pushes Billson closer to Albert; she looks to Albert for reassurance after she gives a child a stale piece of seed cake and Bracey tells her she shouldn’t have. Billson’s nearly obsessive fear of men manifests itself in the form of a tall white ghost that appears beside her bed. After hearing the news of Albert’s marriage and departure, she again sees the ghost, which leads to her having a mental breakdown and leaving. Despite how quiet a person she is, she makes a show of this.

Albert had started as a hall-boy for Nick’s mother’s family. After leaving her family, he drifted between homes, never entirely comfortable. Already disinterested in love, he “felt himself chronically persecuted by women, especially by the most determined of his tormentors, ‘the girl from Bristol’ (KO, 6).” Like Billson, he is preoccupied with a fear of the opposite gender. Unlike Billson, however, he fancies no one and doesn’t hope for any relationship. Though Albert is not as ‘nervy’ and Billson, he is just as easily frightened: Billson’s spotting a constable approaching the house gives them both a fright. Albert’s reaction of having to leave to marry ‘the girl from Bristol’ is very different from Billson’s. Though not happy about having to leave the family, he quietly accepts it and stays on friendly terms with Nick’s mother after leaving.

Though Albert and Billson act differently in many situations, they way that they think is very similar. They are both afraid of relations with the opposite gender and are both easily intimidated by situations. Billson’s reactions to these things are frantic; Alfred’s are generally a resignation to things that are beyond his control.

Billson is a proper young woman working as a maid in the Jenkins home. So proper, in fact, that she is scared to even show a little ankle when stepping on a step ladder if a man is in the room. Because of her lifestyle, Billson often denounces and represses any normal feelings. It is expected, in psychology, that suppressed feelings resurface as mutated corruptions into the real world. This repression inevitably leads to her breakdown, where she appears naked in front of guests at the Jenkins home. While outside stresses such as ghost-sightings and Albert’s impending marriage are important factors leading up to her episode, Billson lashes out towards the Jenkins because of societal pressures. Outside pressures, including Albert’s impending marriage and ghosts over her bed, lead to Billson’s breakdown and her biggest influence are the societal pressures, and that is exactly who she lashes out at.

When Billson is first introduced as a character, she comes across as very decent and quiet. These characteristics are self-imposed as she never allows herself many pleasures. She takes societal norms to an extreme, making sure that nothing could possibly jeopardize her integrity. It is not without reason to assume that she could be suppressing her real feelings to feel more accepted by her community. She constantly has to put others before her in her job as a maid and not consider herself. Albert’s marriage is something out of her control, as are the ghost sightings. Those people closest to her put the most pressure on her, something she cannot readily control and therefore avoid a breakdown.

Right before Billson’s breakdown, Albert tells Mrs. Jenkins that he will be leaving their family to get married to a “girl from Bristol.” While Albert asks Mrs. Jenkins to keep the news hushed, he, himself, cannot. Billson quickly finds out. She has never done anything about her unrequited love for Albert because of her prudence. Nick classifies the situation as, “Billson’s passion for him had never been accepted very seriously – as, indeed, few passions are by those not personally suffering from them,” (KO</U, 58). She is forced to keep all of her emotions bottled up inside as a way of dealing with rejection. Because she is so proper, she would never allow herself to show disappointment or be upset by the fact that Albert does not love her back.

Billson, before breaking down, sees a ghost standing over her bed at Stonehurst. Fragile as she is, seeing these ghosts especially in a phallic way, is another contributing factor to her mental collapse. Nick describes the ghosts themselves as, “a white shape of immense height standing beside (Billson’s) bed,” (KO</U, 4). It is not only interesting, but significant to think about the phallic symbolism of the ghost, especially in accordance with Billson’s prudence as well as her outburst of nakedness. At first, Billson tries to forget about the experience of seeing the ghosts, calling it a “wholly imaginary experience,” (KO</U, 4) which would make sense in society, because ghosts do not exist. However, she soon confesses that she has seen the ghost before. Her restlessness about the ghosts is cause for concern in the house because the Jenkins are afraid that staff will not come to work there. Never is there concern for Billson’s well-being, despite the fact that Mrs. Jenkins has felt the ghosts before.

Luckily for Billson, General Conyers knows exactly what to do in the situation. Nick describes the opportunity as, “a place for action, a display of will,” (KO</U, 61). Despite quite an unexpected and disturbing event while he is out to dinner, he is calm and collected as he shelters poor Billson from the others who are so stunned they cannot move. It is interesting to relate that General Conyers is the almost exact opposite of Billson. While she is concerned with avoiding men and inappropriate situations, General Conyers, in his younger days, is considered to be a Peter Templar of sorts. He knows how to talk to women, how to work them over, and most importantly take care of them. Billson and General Conyers, historically sexual opposites, stray from their usual characterizations. He acts with a gentlemanly air and saves the lunch from an awkward situation.

Nick would expect her lash out in a less obvious way stating, “However, even if the extent of Billson’s distress at Albert’s decision to marry had been adequately gauged – added, as it were morally speaking, to the probably effect of seeing a ghost that morning – no one could have foreseen so complete, so deplorable, a breakdown,” (KO</U, 59). However, her anxieties tend to focus more on society. When giving her notice to Mrs. Jenkins, “stark” naked as Mr. Jenkins says, Billson explains, “I don’t want to stay if Albert is leaving your service, and besides, m’m, I can’t stand the ghosts no longer,” (KO</U, 60). Her unreciprocated love for Albert and her quarters, neither of which she controls, are her two worst problems. Society is exactly who she should be lashing out at and in her case the Jenkins and the Conyers at lunch are the opportunity ripe for taking. As Nick so elegantly puts it, “In human life, the individual ultimately dominates every situation, however disordered, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. On this occasion, as usual, all was not lost,” (KO, 61).

In A Dance to the Music of Time by Anthony Powell, an eccentric character runs in and out of the sixth installment, The Kindly Ones. During Nick’s childhood the reader is introduced to Dr. Trelawny. The reader is then influenced by Nick’s own uncomfortable feelings toward him, such as the fact that the “casual mention of his name in conversation would even cause me [Nick] an uneasy thrill” (29, KO). His troublesome feelings lead to the conclusion that Trelawny is in fact a “crackpot,” (29, KO) essentially like his real-world model Aleister Crowley.

Aleister Crowley was born in October of 1875 to a wealthy family, all of whom followed a very strict sect of Christianity, the Plymouth Brethren. It can be said that from his austere upbringing, his questioning of the religion arose and “provoked his skepticism.”[1] In wasn’t until his studies at Cambridge that he truly began researching mysticism and occultism. Shortly after Cambridge, he joined the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, which was a mystic order that practiced in the late 19th and early 20th century. In a complicated series of events, however, The Golden Dawn was eventually split and Crowley was expelled from the Order. Rather than not pursuing his own mystic enlightenment, in 1904 he traveled to Mexico and then Egypt, where he eventually founded his own religious philosophy, known as Thelema.[2] From here on he practiced with his own following in Great Britain. At this point or soon after, at the tender age of seven or eight, Nick is introduced to Dr. Trelawny just as Powell must have been aware of Crowley. Crowley’s extreme interest in the occult directly translates into Dr. Trelawny’s character. In Nick’s narration he describes that, “Dr Trelawny conducted a centre for his own peculiar religious, philosophical-some said magical-tenets, and cult of which he was high priest, if not actually messiah” (28, KO). In addition, Mr. Deacon speaks of Trelawny’s practices: “too much abracadabra about Trelawny … gradually involved himself with all sorts of mystical nonsense, transcendental magic, goodness knows what rubbish” (31, KO). Not only is Trelawny studying mysticism, but he is also doing so with his own private following in Britain.

Nick sees Trelawny running throughout the grounds of Stonehurst. The reader is left to speculate as to why Trelawny is found doing this because Nick provides mesger insight, saying, “when out with his disciples, running through the heathe…” (29, KO). Possibly he is cleansing his spirit or this exercise is part of his advanced diet program. With further investigation into Aleister Crowley’s life, however, Trelawny’s behavior is justified. Crowley’s obsession with mountaineering, which he used to deal with his chronic asthma, provides an explanation for Trelawny’s group runs. In 1902, prior to returning to England, Crowley led expeditions to K2 and Kangchenjunga, the third largest mountain in the world.[3] It only makes sense that upon his return he would be doing some sort of physical activity, and this was most likely what Powell himself saw.

Keeping fit and healthy, by exercising like this, Crowley lived to be 72. Old age did not take him, but rather an excessive use of drugs did. “Crowley was a habitual drug user and also maintained a meticulous record of his drug-induced experiences with laudanum, opium, cocaine, hashish, alcohol, ether, mescaline and heroin.”[4] He died alone and addicted to heroin, which his doctor prescribed for his asthma and bronchitis, in 1947. Although we do not witness Trelawny’s death in the novel, we do get a glimpse that he will suffer the same fate as Crowley. At the Belleview hotel, while Trelawny has locked himself in the bathroom and is having an asthma attack, he demands to the gentlemen attempting to rescue him that he must talk to Mrs. Erdleigh in order that he have his “pills.” As soon as Mrs. Erdleigh arrives, Trelawny becomes very anxious for his medicine, saying while twitching dreadfully, “We think we should have our … pills, ha-ha. We do not wish to cut short so pleasurable an evening” (197, KO). As Mrs. Erdleigh ushers the gentlemen out of the room, Nick catches a glimpse of, “a small instrument” (198, KO). Most likely this instrument is a syringe, used to inject heroin into Trelawny’s body. Like Crowley, Trelawny is being treated for his asthma with heroin, which will eventually cause his now frail body to cease function.

Powell modeled Dr. Trelawny after Aleister Crowley in both the mental and physical aspects of his life. Following in Crowley’s footsteps, Trewlawny delves in the occult, exercises thoroughly, and is reliant on drugs. Although Trelawny does not appear in later novels, he remains a vital character in the next books, as Mr. Gould tells us. His prophetic visions and “crackpot” views on life add another dimension to the novels, which Powell must certainly use later to help explain certain events.

Notes:

[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleister_Crowley: “Aleister Crowley.”
[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleister_Crowley: “Aleister Crowley.”
[3] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleister_Crowley: “Aleister Crowley.”
[4] http://www.popsubculture.com/pop/bio_project/aleister_crowley.html: Dease, “Aleister Crowley: The Great Beast.”