A Dance to The Music of Time - Volume 1

In A Question of Upbringing, Powell creates his world and begins, through a series of seemingly unrelated, random events, and the introduction of a group of diverse, interesting characters, to trace through it the lives of four noticeably different young men. Although it is a considerably short novel, and in some ways very narrow in its scope, Question manages to suggest a vast and unpredictable world. This vastness and unpredictability, the epic nature of the overall series, exists primarily because of the novel’s host of eccentric and protean characters. Powell begins the weaving of a web of human relationships and personalities that will no doubt be continuously evolved and expanded throughout the rest of the series, and that form its foundation.

There appear to be three different types of characters in this book – those who have some meaningful relevance to the plot and who will probably resurface in future novels, those who pass into the narrator’s world for a time and then disappear forever, and the four main characters: Jenkins, Stringham, Templer, and Widmerpool. Together, these three types of characters create the sense of enormity that exists in Question, despite the fact that the novel is based almost completely on events that take place among a select group of English elite.

The four “main characters” of the book are not easily identified as “main.” Jenkins, though the narrator and perhaps the central character, is not truly the protagonist. We see little of his personal behavior, understandably, because he is always describing the situation at hand, and the little we do see of his behavior is in a different context from all the other characters. For this reason, while we may have a good sense of what Stringham and Templer and Widmerpool are like, we do not have this sense to such a degree with Jenkins. Overall, this novel does not seem merely to be the story of Jenkins’ life; rather, it is the story of how he sees other people’s lives. Though much of his own life is described in the process, his own experience is not central. As far as the two character categories besides the main one are concerned, it is difficult to say who belongs in which, namely because at this point we have only read the first of twelve books. It seems clear, however, that figures such as Uncle Giles, Jean Templer, and Le Bas will continue to turn up here and there. It is doubtful that someone like Professor Szczepanowski will reappear. Still, the possibility that any character in the book could pop up at any moment, and the fact that some will, makes the world all the more realistic.

Also, the influence of time in Question on the characters should not be neglected. It seems to pass very quickly, and sometimes disproportionately – Powell devotes an equal amount of pages to Jenkins’ entire Eton career as to one summer in France. Consequently, the changes we see in different characters, at least in this first book, take place quickly and surprisingly. We have already seen significant changes in the reclusive yet self-content Widmerpool, and in the very friendship between Jenkins and Stringham and Templer.

The way Powell handles the characters of this book – from their constantly changing personalities and relationships to their fluctuating involvement in the plot – contributes greatly to the realism and vastness of this novel. Jenkins, as narrator, supports these effects by describing a world that is not – unlike those of many narrators – centred around his own life.

In A Question of Upbringing, we repeatedly come across a character known as Widmerpool. He appears to be the stereotypical outcast of school society, being the target of jokes and pranks. However, he reveals traits that we would not expect him to have: resolve and determination.

Throughout the story, there are scenes in which Widmerpool is ridiculed and made fun of. Despite all this, he remains silent and does not complain. His lack of reaction makes us wonder what he is really thinking. We might say that he has something great and devious planned, a sort of “Revenge of the Nerds” idea to show the world what he can do. On the other hand, we could just as well argue that Widmerpool is just trying to get by in life without any trouble.

We find a situation that stimulates the debate over Widmerpool’s curious behavior in the first chapter. The incident, which involves a banana getting squished into Widmerpool’s face, is a fine example of the qualities that many may not see in him. Instead of making a scene, he decides to take off his glasses, wipe his face, his glasses and his clothes. He mutters that it is “quite all right.” And while this may have very well infuriated Widmerpool internally, the ability to suppress anger and embarrassment externally to this degree is astonishing. Is he being calm and cool about the incident because he truly doesn’t mind? Or is he is quietly plotting a nasty revenge?

A scene where Jenkins and the reader actually do get a view of the hidden side of Widmerpool occurs in France, while Jenkins is studying at La Grenedierie. Here Widmerpool solves a dispute between two men, Orn and Lundquist, who have been at odds for as long as one can remember. After hearing of this great show of diplomacy on Widmerpool’s part from Widmerpool himself, Jenkins retorts with a witty remark: “Did you tell them not to be such bloody fools?” While one would probably think that Widmerpool would normally retreat from such a comment, Widmerpool does something surprising: he stands up for himself. Widmerpool goes on to discuss Jenkins’ poor manners in the situation and points out all the things that are seemingly wrong with him. He starts by being very blunt: “Jenkins, do you mind home truths? First, you are a great deal too fond of criticizing people: secondly, when a man’s self-esteem has been injured he is to be commiserated with, not blamed. You will find it a help in life to remember these two points.” Such strong comments show that Widmerpool may indeed be gaining the confidence he needs to perhaps pursue the great goals and ambitions that he has set for himself. Such ambition is seen in Widmerpool for the first time by Jenkins, even if he does not necessarily agree with Widmerpool’s choices of career: business and politics.

Widmerpool is definitely one to be watched very carefully in this novel. His determination and resolve may take him far in life. While he may not be much right now, he could become someone that Jenkins will look upon with great respect.

One important theme throughout A Question of Upbringing, and indeed, throughout the entire Dance to the Music of Time, is movement. The meetings, separations, and changes that take place for each of the characters in A Question of Upbringing embody the motion of the “dance” that Powell has created. However, during Question, one character remains fixed amidst the change; like a rock surrounded by a flowing stream. Widmerpool, the character who has no friends, changes little, and “lives a life of abnegation,” does not take part in the dance, and thereby defines the tempo and direction of those about him. It is against this fixed point that the swirling eddies of Question are expressed; against this constant that the many human variables are defined.

From the beginning, Jenkins describes Widmerpool as radically different, as a creature “[marked] out from the rest of mankind.” People around him seem to find something disturbing in his existence; creating scandals about things as unremarkable as overcoats “insomuch that an element in Widmerpool himself proved indigestible to the community.” Though Widmerpool appears in few of the scenes in Question, Powell undoubtedly chose to make him and his actions vital in our understanding of the other main characters.

The first mention of Peter Templer is in the relation of a story concerning Widmerpool. While telling this story, Stringham discloses how Widmerpool looks to him by presenting the first example of an “exquisitely Templer phrase”: “He’s so wet you could shoot snipe off him.” Before Templer even enters the room, the reader rightly develops a portrait of Peter as bawdy, critical, and aloof.

The reader’s first meeting with Stringham is also centred around Widmerpool narrative-telling. While relaying stories of the “overcoat incident,” “banana incident,” and “the Ackworth incident,” Stringham reveals himself, through his opinionated interjections, as slightly detached, cynical, and aristocratic. Later, his comment that “[Widmerpool] will be the death of me,” obviously foretells Powell’s intention to bring the two together again later down the road.

Jenkins, the narrator, reveals to the reader that “it is not always easy… to judge others by a consistent standard.” This seems evident insomuch as his descriptions and criticisms of Widmerpool, and others as well, often change tone. However, if we also understand Jenkins’ statement: “the changes in Widmerpool… emphasized the metamorphosis that had happened within myself,” we begin to see that Jenkins’ fluctuating descriptions of Widmerpool, and indeed other characters, are not normally evidence of their changes, but rather instabilities in the character of Jenkins himself. Powell makes no effort to create in Jenkins an honest, objective, or trustworthy narrator. Yet, through Widmerpool there emerges a disclaimer that Jenkins is “a great deal too fond of criticizing other people”; this, taken with Jenkins’ admitted inability to “judge others by a consistent standard,” prompts the reader to take his criticisms with a grain of salt.

At times in A Question of Upbringing, Powell provides Widmerpool as a tool with which the reader might dissect the main characters. From the start of the book, Powell chose to place much emphasis on Widmerpool, especially on his extreme deviation from the norm. What we find in Question is a series of relationships between Widmerpool, the deviant, and the other main characters that take part in Powell’s dance. However, by the end of Question there is not yet enough information revealed about Widmerpool for these relations to yield much insight. In later books however, as Widmerpool the character gets fleshed out, these relationships will increasingly bring light to the inner workings of those who surround him.

Despite Uncle Giles’ repeated disappearances throughout the first book, he nevertheless permeates the story. He is regarded by Jenkins as an eccentric abnormality in life, someone out of touch with the world, and clueless as to how society works. Yet, upon closer analysis, Giles seems truly to have a deeper understanding of how the world operates, and the more that Jenkins thinks about his uncle, the more respect he seems to gain for him. By first portraying Giles as an extreme end of the human spectrum, then slowly revealing that he is not so odd after all, Powell demonstrates that opportunities to learn can come from even the strangest of sources. Upon first meeting this interesting character, we are presented with the image of a sad, irresponsible figure. “Even those who [had] known him for years sometimes found difficulty in estimating the lengths to which he could carry his lack of reliability” proclaims Jenkins, still unsure of how to properly classify his uncle (65.) He elaborates that “Uncle Giles had been relegated by most of the people who knew him at all well to that limbo where nothing is expected of a person” (16.) Both of these comments, along with the many other disparaging remarks made by Jenkins, serve to establish the extent to which Giles does not fit into society, in the eyes of the narrator. He is irresponsible; he shows up uninvited, and then disappears without any contact, as if he never existed. Our first encounters with Giles set him apart as a someone completely out of touch with society. The argument that Uncle Giles hardly exists is not hard to make: later in the book, Stringham has no recollection of him, even though his visit is portrayed as a major incident in the mind of Jenkins. Giles’s prolonged disappearances serve as a haze, blocking him from view.

We are also presented with the fact that Jenkins does not know his uncle all that well. There had been a “severance of relations” (22) between his father and uncle, and Jenkins questions whether his uncle has “quite a lot of fun” or if he “lives in perpetual hell” (25), demonstrating a void of information about his uncle. As Jenkins grows older, wiser, and is exposed to Giles more frequently, his uncle seems more and more normal. During the tea at Sillery’s, Jenkins ventures so far as to state that “Uncle Giles untiring contortions before the altar of the Trust, when considered in this light, now began to appear less grotesque than formerly” (173). We also know that Jenkins does not understand his uncle clearly yet, for as he says himself “[he] did not in those days see [Giles] with anything like this clearness of vision” (17). At the time Jenkins does not know his uncle well enough fairly to pass judgment on him.

While Jenkins fails firmly to establish his uncle as “unreliable,” Giles manages to portray himself, now and then, as quite astute. Though he seems to act outside of the spectrum of normal behavior, he nevertheless believes that “rules are made to be obeyed.” (19). If in practice he is abnormal, at least he is able to think clearly. Uncle Giles certainly has a few odd tendencies, yet overall, he seems like he is in complete control of himself, for as Jenkins states “it [had] to be admitted that [he was] unusually well
equipped for looking after himself” (23).

Jenkins leaves us with a few lingering thoughts about Giles at the close of the first book. Jenkins sets up the expectation that he will grow fonder of Giles in the coming texts, especially when he states that he “dismissed Uncle Giles letter from [his] mind, as [he] now thinks, rather inexcusably” (221). We leave the chapter with a final image of Giles, in contrast to our original idea of him, reading Some Things That Matter; quite a contrast from someone who “took not the slightest interest in anyone or anything except himself” (20). While Giles is unquestionably strange, he gets progressively more normal as the plot advances. The development of Giles’ character through the story reveals a depth to him that Jenkins is only slowly coming discovering. Jenkins is starting to learn that knowledge can be acquired even from the most unexpected sources and that no one is truly insignificant. After all, in the words of Le Bas, “it takes all sorts to make a world” (224).

It’s not what you know, but whom you know. Throughout A Question of Upbringing, there are many examples of people getting ahead by knowing the right people. The characters in the book are not oblivious to this maxim. Some characters know that influence is important to becoming or staying wealthy. Hard work means nothing to the majority of the characters in this book.

Sillery believes strongly in this aphorism. To him knowing people at the top of society offers him great power. When Bill Truscott tells him that he is recruiting, Sillery jumps at the opportunity to put one of his students into a position of power so that he’ll be able to extend his influence. He is so intent upon having Stringham get this job that he even goes as far as convincing Stringham’s mother and Buster of the idea’s merits when they come to the university to discuss it. Sillery would rather have Stringham drop out of the university and take on this job than completing his time there. This shows how much value Sillery puts into knowing people at the top.

One case where this is maxim is demonstrated is with Peter Templer. Templer receives a good job in London without even finishing high school. When Templer was at school he wasn’t a star student. He never put the kind of dedication towards his work that Widmerpool did. However, Templer’s family has connections. His father is a rich, successful businessman who knows people at the top. That is the important thing. That is the only prerequisite that Templer needs in order to receive a good job.

Uncle Giles says, “they work hard…Therefore they have my respect,” (19) when referring to the Germans. While Giles says he believes in hard work, he himself does not work hard. He believes, even more, the key thing to life is knowing the right people, not actually doing the respectable thing and working hard; and, unfortunately, Giles does not know the right people. At one point he is talking to Jenkins about how Stringham’s grandfather, “made a huge fortune … knew all the right people, of course” (20). It is tacitly understood that Stringham’s grandfather didn’t earn his money through hard work or his own intelligence. Giles makes the point that Stringham’s grandfather made his money through his connections.

Many characters throughout this book have figured out one of the biggest keys to success. It isn’t hard work; it is knowing the right people. The only necessary prerequisite to getting a good job is that a family has the right connections. Schooling is not of much importance, however. Going to college seems to be more of a social gathering than an actual educational experience. This system of influence and having connections is one that is not only present in this book but also our everyday lives.

“He had a thin face and light blue eyes that gave out a perpetual and quite mechanical sparkle: at first engaging: then irritating: and finally a normal and inevitable aspect of his features that one no longer noticed.” (26) In giving this description of Templer, Jenkins foreshadowed the treatment of many other characters. Many of the qualities that Jenkins suggested were particularly important or noticeable in his initial descriptions of certain characters became less conspicuous and more acceptable by the end of the first section. With the evolution of the main characters in the first chapter, it is apparent that there is something special and significant about each one; however, Jenkins gradually makes an adjustment to each character, causing the particular notability in each to seem commonplace. The characters do change as they mature, but Jenkins’ adapting and evolving perceptions shift much more than the characters themselves.

Jenkins is initially not very confident about Templer’s character; he says “[Templer’s] boast that he had never read a book for pleasure in his life did not predispose me in his favor.” (8) Also, Jenkins is aware of Templer’s narcissism when he hears of the incident with Widmerpool, Akworth, and Peter Templer. Stringham comments that “[Templer’s] conceit is invincible.” (13) These characteristics in a person could clearly hinder a friendship’s course, but Jenkins conforms to them and basically begins to overlook them as nuisances, eventually accepting them as part of Peter Templer. Jenkins continues to spend a great deal of time with Templer and Stringham, going through a great deal together. After the “Braddock alias Thorne incident,” Jenkins comments that “by then, both of them (Stringham and Templer) had become so much a part of my existence at school that it seemed strange to me that I ever had doubts about either as a companion.” (36) Jenkins obviously hesitated to take Templer as a friend at first, but then became accustomed to the eccentricities that made up his personality and accepted him.

Jenkins’s attitude towards Widmerpool fluctuates a great deal. Widmerpool is a very strange character, and Jenkins ridicules him in the first few pages of the book, describing his “sweater once white and cap at least a size too small.” (3) There are many more instances at Eton in which Jenkins makes reference to him being an awkward character. However, when Jenkins goes off to La Grenadiere, and finds Widmerpool there, his opinion of him seems to shift. Although at times he becomes irritated with Widmerpool, Jenkins can be found interested and respectful towards him. When Widmerpool successfully solves the issue between the two Scandinavians, Jenkins shows signs of great admiration.

As Jenkins matures and develops as a person, his opinions of others do as well. Although Templer and Widmerpool may evolve in their own ways, their personalities remain largely the same. It is through the words of Jenkins, and through the eyes of the reader that the change, as opposed to adjustment, is instilled.

In A Question of Upbringing, Jenkins, Stringham and Templer grow from adolescence into early adulthood and as a result the nature of their relationship changes. Initially their relationship is defined through their common goal and common living space. Ultimately as the young men grow up and pursue separate life goals the bond that once held them tightly together at Eaton becomes stretched to a breaking point. As Templer and Stringhman move on into the business world, Jenkins is left behind, pursuing his Oxford degree, and the boy’s friendship is lost. When their living situation and their common goals change, the relationship among all three young men ceases to be a priority. Jenkins says, “The path had suddenly forked.”(229 )

The three young Eton students are initially headed on a scholarly path toward Oxford University. Jenkins pursues a friendship with Stringham and Templer, both of whom are older than he. He quickly learns a lot about the ways of life from Stringham and Templer, both of whom are wealthy. Stringham comes from a family with a great deal of money founded in the old established aristocracy and Templer has grown up in a family whose wealth comes from new money in business. Jenkins, on the other hand, comes from a family with a military background and as a result has come from a very different lifestyle. From the beginning, their relationship is slightly strained in that Stringham and Templer are more sophisticated in their pursuit of young women. Jenkins is often left on the outside of those social interactions in that he is not very successful in his pursuit of women. The group dynamic of Jenkins being on the outside of the friendship is repeated when Templer and Stringham enter the business world, pursuing different goals in life, other than academics.

Templer chooses early on to pursue a business career and bypass the university. Templer leaves Eton early and moves into London to enter the business world. He makes two new associates, Brent and Duport. In an attempt to bring both his past and present world together, he invites Stringham and Jenkins out for an evening in his new Vauxhall, with these two new friends. Peter picked up two girls off the side of the road and invited them out for a ride. The ensuing accident in which the car slid off the road, “had two results, so far as Stringham was concerned: it brought an end to his friendship with Peter, and it strengthened his desire to go down as soon as possible from the university.”(200)

Soon after the incident, Stringham is recruited to work for Sir Magnus Donners. He decides to leave the university and pursue this new career opportunity. Once again an attempt is made to bring together the past and present as Stringham invites Jenkins into the city for dinner. Jenkins, upon arriving in the city, discovers that Stringham no longer intends to dine with him but rather to attend a party with his new friends and merely have a quick drink with Jenkins. Stringham says, “The fact is I am cutting your date. Cutting it in slow motion before your eyes.”(226) Following Stringham’s departure, Jenkins says, “I knew now that this parting was one of those final things that happened, recurrently as time passes until at last they may be recognized fairly easily of a close of a period….with regret I accept the inevitability of the circumstance.”(229) With this remark Jenkins concludes with regret his friendships could not survive in their entirety outside the Eton domain.

The move from adolescence to adulthood puts a strain on the relationship of the three young men, that appears to signal the beginning of the end of their relationship as they once knew it. Upon being rejected by his friends, Jenkins chooses to remain at Oxford on the original path. From the beginning, Jenkins and Templer’s relationship is not strong and the eventual separation is foreshadowed by Jenkin’s very early remark, ” I liked and admired Stringham: Templer I was not yet sure about.”(8) The separation of Jenkins and Stringham comes as a greater surprise because the two seem more closely connected. By the conclusion of Question, the young men have all gone their separate ways and lost the original bond of friendship that they once shared.

“If you’re not careful you will suffer the awful fate of the man who always knows the right clothes to wear and the right shop to buy them at.” (p.30) This is Stringham’s warning to Peter Templer, his schoolmate from Eton. Why is the fate of a man awful if he knows the appropriate dress for every occasion? Shouldn’t that be an asset? A person’s sense of dressing can tell a lot about his personality, however, in other cases, we may judge a person by his clothing and then realize that his personality totally contradicts his outer style.

In Templer’s case, clothes are often the main subject of conversation; a major priority in his life. His sense of dress helps him gain popularity with women. Stringham seems envious of Templer’s charisma and the ease with which he befriends members of the opposite sex. This comment that he makes seems bitter and Templer only laughs it off, himself taking pride in this style that it seems, intrigues girls. However, at the end of the book, Templer comes across as a careless person, even though he in an impeccable dresser. Therefore his style of dressing is clearly not a reflection of his inner self.

Widmerpool on the other hand is notorious for dressing awkwardly. He tries too hard to fit in but still ends up being the subject of amusement for his fellow classmates. Anything abnormal was referred to as a “Widmerpool” regardless of who donned the doomed dress. Widmerpool is the character that everyone is prejudiced against and his attempts at trying to dress the “right” way only result in his suffering even more embarrassing situations.

Uncle Giles is another character whose dressing style does not reflect on his personality. Jenkins describes him as “neat and still slightly military in appearance”. This makes it seem that Uncle Giles is a rigid, straightforward, serious veteran but he is quite the opposite. He is “unreliable” and has not held a commission for about twenty years. No one takes him seriously and he is not very respected by the people who know him well.

Sunny Farebrother is another character that cares a lot for his clothes. His invention of the machine to straighten collars shows his interest in dressing flawlessly. But Sunny is too thrifty to dress really well, and his clothes are worn, often out-of-date. Later on in the chapter, Stripling and most of the other characters are involved in a prank played on him and he is then the object of amusement, instead of the perfect gentleman he would like to be.

So does that mean that people that dress well are only trying to conceal the flaws in their personality? And are people who don’t dress trendily less shallow, more profound, more moral than those who do? This presumption that we make from analyzing the dressing style and personalities of the characters in A Question of Upbringing could very well be one of “the dangers of dressing too well” that Stringham is talking about.

From his unkempt appearance to his coarse and frank manner of conversation, J.G. Quiggin presents himself as an unappealing yet peculiar personality, capable of making an impression on all he encounters. First acquaintances are hesitant in the sense that one never wants to give a bad first impression or strike others as an unlikable human being. When he bursts into the room, rudely banging open the door in an unapologetic manner and taking a seat with a sour look on his face, Quiggin makes it apparent that he does not practice this common exercise of caution among an unfamiliar audience. Jenkins can already tell that Quiggin is special; he comments “For the first time since coming up I felt that I was, at last, getting into touch with the submerged element of the university, which, I had sometimes suspected, might have more to offer that was to be found in conventional undergraduate circles” (179). Indeed, Quiggin defies the conventionality among the standard undergraduates at the university, and perhaps what makes him different fuels his ambitions to rise up from his modest background.

Quiggin is, no doubt, a very opinionated individual and an aggressive inquisitor. When Sillery asks him the simple question “Are you happy?” he “[begins] to enlarge on the matter of his own exasperation. He [says]: `All anyone here seems interested in is in messing about… I thought people came to the university to study, not to booze and gas all the time.'”(181). After that, everyone seems a little taken aback by such an attack on the university. In response, Sillery says, “You find we all fall woefully short of your own exacting standards- formed, no doubt, in a more austere tradition.” (181). While they walk together, Quiggin persistently questions Jenkins “without relaxing [his] harsh exterior” as if probing for valuable information. He also claims to hate anything superficial; he would much rather read Fabian Essays in Socialism compared to the popular novel, The Green Hat, which describes the life of the rich and lost generation. He adds: “I suppose that depicts the kind of world that you friend String will enter…” (203). Jenkins also discovers that Quiggin is keen on meeting people he considers important as if it was an opportunity to judge their worth or build his own connections.

What are the roots of such an attitude of self-assurance? Quiggin’s grating voice with a Northern Country inflexion reveals his modest background, though talk of his hometown is something he wants to avoid. Quiggin makes it well known that he is not rich like his contemporaries, perhaps even exaggerating a bit. His lack of money transcends into a deficiency in class, status, a first-rate primary education, a distinguished family name, etc. On the subject of Bill Truscott and the job opportunity as private secretary to Sir Magnus Donners, Quiggin says, “I knew at once there would be no chance of Truscott thinking of me. Not good enough, I suppose…. Not good enough by a long chalk” (204). His envy and discontent, for Stringham in this case, encourage him to surpass the superficial privileged upper class- the Stringhams who get the jobs because of their connections. This requires a lot of self-discipline on his part. He has done so already by “collect[ing] unto himself sundry scholarships and exhibitions, which is much to his credit” (177).

Ultimately, Quiggin will stay a topic of interest among the circle of undergraduates on matters of his background, appearance, and “something of the angry solitude of spirit that [holds Jenkins’] attention…” (205). Above all, Jenkins must not sympathize for Quiggin, who shows the will, independence, and capacity to take care of himself. As Sillery assures Jenkins, “Quiggin is an able young man… we must not forget that” (212). His display of work ethic and ambition might take him places farther than anyone would like to imagine.

In Anthony Powell’s A Question of Upbringing, characters are introduced through the eyes of the narrator, Jenkins. While most narrated novels introduce characters omnisciently, Powell does this quite differently. Rather than portraying characters immediately as they are going to be during the rest of the novel, Powell shows the characters as they are viewed through Jenkins at the time they are introduced. If a character is introduced as kind and likeable at first, it is not definite they will remain that way. It is all decided by how Jenkins grows to view that particular person. A man could be introduced as a snivelling rat at first, yet, if Jenkins grows to like him, he may become more attractive to the reader as well. Classic examples of this in the novel are the characters of Widmerpool, Stringham, and Uncle Giles.

Widmerpool’s stoic appearance out of the afternoon mist at Eton in the first chapter of the novel symbolizes his mysteriousness throughout the chapter. “…the road was empty; except for Widmerpool, in a sweater once white and cap at least a size too small, hobbling unevenly, though with determination, on the flat heels of spiked running-shoes.” (3) A boy, running alone, covered in mud, and “looming through the dusk” (3) excites Jenkins, which in turn, excites the reader. Not only is he running in the dusk, he is running at a time of the year when “exercise [was] no longer contestable five days a week.” (3) We do immediately find out that he is considered quite odd at school. “His status was not high” (4), and he was in no way a standout in any particular aspect. Nevertheless, this only intrigues us more. From the first moment we meet Widmerpool, we like him and, like Jenkins, we are curious.

Later, Stringham tells a story about Widmerpool being hit in the face with a banana accidentally. When Budd, the responsible party, goes up to apologize, Widmerpool says, “I don’t mind at all, Budd. It doesn’t matter in the least.” (11) Stringham remarks that “It was as if Widmerpool had experienced some secret and awful pleasure.” Widmerpool’s heartiness towards the scene not only avoids an incident but also throws “the most appalling gloom” (11) over the responsible boys. By seeing how Widmerpool handles certain situations, we become more and more curious as to what the boy is actually like.

However, our opinion of Widmerpool changes as the story progresses. In Chapter 3, Jenkins travels to France to stay at La Grenadière, where Widmerpool is also staying. Here, Jenkins actually meets Widmerpool and has numerous conversations with him. Jenkins is finally able to see through the mysterious personae and find out who Widmerpool really is. During one meeting, the two talk about Peter Templer, and Widmerpool says, “`I suppose Templer got sacked in the end?'” and was “no doubt conscious that he might have sounded over-emphatic, and evidently trying to bring some jocularity to his tone.” (131) Here we see Jenkins analyzing Widmerpool’s tone and finding something he does not like. Jenkins has a love for his friends, and never likes it when someone talks badly about one of them or about their personal lives. “Stringham being a friend of mine, I felt that it would be beneath my dignity to discuss his family affairs with someone who, like Widmerpool, knew of them only through hearsay.” (130) Upon hearing the remark about Templer from Widmerpool, Jenkins immediately recognizes Widmerpool’s poor cover-up. The reader can see how Jenkins is starting to lose all interest in knowing Widmerpool, and the reader begins to as well.

Stringham is, along with Templer, one of Jenkins’ best friends. “I liked and admired Stringham” (8). From reading Jenkins initial perception of Stringham, the reader also appreciates Stringham’s qualities. For the first three chapters, Stringham is always closer to Jenkins, while Templer seems much more removed. However, when Stringham and Jenkins both attend Oxford, Stringham begins to separate himself from the trio. When Templer comes to Oxford, he insists that Stringham and Jenkins take a ride in his new car. During the trip, the car goes out of control and crashes but does not seriously injure anyone. However, Stringham was “far the angriest person present.” (197) “The incident with Templer’s car had two results, so far as Stringham was concerned: it brought an end to his friendship with Peter, and it immensely strengthened his desire to go down as soon as possible from the university.” (200) Jenkins does not appreciate the fact that Stringham is willing to drop a friend so quickly simply because of an accident. Not only does Stringham drop Templer as a friend, but he begins to drop Jenkins as well. Stringham cancels plans with Jenkins so he can go to a party, to which Jenkins “could pretend to Stringham that I did not mind: within, I was exceedingly annoyed. This was quite unlike him.” (226) Stringham had changed from a good friend to a social climber. “Lady Bridgnorth, by her invitation that night, had effortlessly snapped one of the links for practical purposes the main one-between Stringham and myself; just as the accident in Templer’s car, in a rather different manner, had removed Templer from Stringham’s course.” (229)

Uncle Giles first appears in the first chapter by interrupting Jenkins and Stringham in Jenkins’ dorm room. He explains his intrusion by saying he was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by. After a number of questions about Jenkins’ friends, Uncle Giles reveals that his true reason for stopping by was because of a problem with the Family Trust. After Uncle Giles leaves, Jenkins tells Stringham that “Uncle Giles was known for being impossible to keep in order, and that he always left trouble in his wake.” (31) Initially, Jenkins views Uncle Giles as an annoying burden and that he would wish nothing more than to get rid of it. Jenkins’ view influences the reader into believing the same thing. However, Jenkins’ perception of Uncle Giles reverses after his “link” between himself and Stringham is snapped. “I was glad to have remembered Uncle Giles. It was, I suppose, justification of the family as a social group that, upon such an occasion, my uncle’s company seemed to offer a restorative in the accidental nature of our relationship and the purely formal regard paid by him to the fact that I was his nephew.” (229-230) Because of their familial bond, Jenkins is able to find an outlet in Uncle Giles. The reader’s view of Uncle Giles immediately changes from one of aversion to one of appreciation. It is not as though Uncle Giles has necessarily changed-they talk about the Trust all night-but more that Jenkins realizes the asylum Uncle Giles can give him.

People do not always change; more often than not, it is our opinion of people that change. Whether or not it’s our ability to grow to tolerate someone or to understanding them better, our perception of that person is constantly changing. Widmerpool is first introduced as a mystery to Jenkins, which intrigues him. However, as he gets to know him, he realizes how much he really does not like him. While Jenkins always though Stringham was his best friend, he quickly discovers how two-faced he can be. Uncle Giles never changes throughout the novel; Jenkins discovers that when he needs help, Uncle Giles is there because of their family bond. The reader trusts Jenkins’ opinions of people and shares them until Jenkins changes his own opinion.

In Anthony Powell’s A Question of Upbringing, the narrator Jenkins finds himself with two very unique friends from different backgrounds. Charles Stringham, the eldest of the three, is a respected member of Eton and comes from an affluent upper-class family with noble connections. Peter Templer, on the other hand, has the reputation of being somewhat of a troublemaker and rule-bender at Eton. While he comes from a wealthy family, his father is a shrewd businessman who expects Templer to live off his own successes in business. This necessity to support himself seems to be trait lacking in Stringham who has the comfort of knowing he will never have to worry about money. Each character embodies two distinct sections of the upper class; Stringham represents inherited wealth while Templer represents earned wealth. At the end of A Question of Upbringing, Jenkins finds himself alone at Oxford while both his friends have ventured off into the real world; Stringham as a personal secretary to Sir Magnus and Templer a businessman quickly climbing toward economic prosperity. Each character has his own set of qualities which were heavily impacted by their opposite upbringings’. At the end of this volume, Powell has established a race to riches between the two characters, leaving old wealth and its connections to compete against new wealth and its demand to succeed.

From the moment we first meet him, Jenkins tells us that ” [he] liked and admired Stringham”(8). We soon find out that Stringham’s mother is an heiress and that Templer remarked that Stringham’s family had “a good deal of money available”(9). Despite his family’s impressive standing, Stringham only does enough to get by. Jenkins described him as “play[ing] cricket well enough to rub along”(9). When he is not in one of his “fits of melancholy, he talk[s] a lot,”(9) and has a generally amiable personality. He is also a keen judge of emotion and was able to use this skill to “quickly abandon[e] what had apparently been taken as a hostile standpoint”(41) by La Bas after the quote from Oscar Wilde. When Jenkins visits Stringham over the summer we are able to get a sense of the upper-class lifestyle Stringham leads. Upon arriving in London “Stringham explained he wanted to buy some tropical clothes,”(54) a task which took up the majority of the morning. Stringham’s lack of responsibility was only amplified by the absence of any real job in his family. Buster is described as “a polo-playing sailor”(54) who has never set foot on a boat while Mrs. Foxe seems to be vaguely carrying out the duties of an heiress. Instead of jobs, Stringham’s family passes the time by watching the Russian Ballet and trading cars. When Stringham began his undergraduate studies at Oxford “he used to spend hours … reading detective stories, and complaining that he was bored” (171). Luckily for Stringham, he contained enough of what Uncle Giles called “influence,”(66) a trait that “the rich and nobly born automatically enjoy,”(66) to escape the university by means of serving as a private secretary to Sir Magnus. A job attained through Sillery’s connections.

Quite contrary to Stringham, Jenkins’ first description of Peter Templer tells us that Peter was “adept at breaking rules or diverting them to ends not intended by those who framed them”(8). He had a “natural jauntiness”(30) and was constantly in a “continuous series of minor rows”(31) with Le Bas, always testing how much he can get away with. Jenkins states that Templer “could not possibly be looked upon as a credit to the house”(31) and was “fairly lazy at work”(31). In spite of these negative attributes, Templer possesses one motivation that Stringham doesn’t; Templer, who has no inheritance to fall back on, is driven by the knowledge that he will soon be completely reliant on his own economic success. Templer tells Jenkins that he must “see the car we have to use for station work”(72) before Jenkins can “understand what sort of man [Templer’s] father is”(72). This picture of a conservative businessman is strengthened by Templer’s “chief complaint”(72) that “his father, in control of so much more money than himself, showed … so little capacity for putting this favorable situation to a suitable advantage”(72). Templer realizes he must soon provide for himself, and it is this realization that spurs Templer to become a successful businessman in spite of his shortcomings. Luckily for Templer, his home life has prepared him to fulfil this role. We first venture into the Templer household in the midst of a business conversation “specif[ing] the terms and bearings of foreign loan…which [sunny] and Mr. Templer had evidently been discussing”(76). Immediately we can perceive a stark contrast between the Stringham and Templer households. Mr. Templer is very business minded while Stringham’s family seems to scorn the triviality of holding a steady job. It is no surprise then that Peter’s father is persuaded to remove him a term earlier than expected from Eton, holding the notion that “Peter should gain … some smattering of commercial life before going into the City”(75). Peter is “pleased”(71) by his early removal from school and greets his future with eagerness, spending a month studying business methods in Holland before moving to the city. The next time we encounter Peter he is a young and promising businessman who visits Jenkins at Oxford.

At the end of A Question of Upbringing, both Stringham and Templer have branched out into the real world. Stringham, through his influence and association with Sillery, was able to take a position as a secretary of Sir Magnus, while Templer left Eton and entered straight into business under the guidance of his father. Both characters although varying greatly in personality and upbringing have found themselves in relatively important roles. However, the question still remains whether influence and connections are worth more than a demand to succeed.

A Dance to the Music of Time is a story that focuses on characters. Jenkins is constantly encountering and processing new characters, who continually flit in and out of his life. Of these characters, Jenkins expresses more interest in those are on the edge of the social sphere and live reclusively. At Eton it was Widmerpool who fascinated him from afar, but upon reaching university Jenkins finds a new outcast to ponder. Quiggin is a different sort of man than any Jenkins has met thus far.  

Quiggin is ostracized from the rest of the characters before he even makes a physical appearance. Sillery’s warning of how “he comes from a modest home, and is, I think, a little sensitive about it” and his mention of his acquisition of “sundry scholarships and exhibitions,” immediately puts Quiggin on different footing then his assumedly wealthy, upper class peers (177). Yet Quiggin shows no fear in engaging with Sillery’s inner circle, and while there manages to criticize the state of the university and interrogate Sillery’s unexpected guest. In fact, his grating, working class, North Country accent seems to give him more authority when he talks, or at the very least give him a distinct voice. Jenkins later learns that Quiggin is not ashamed of his lack of class at all, but rather tries to trump up his appearance of financial hardship. By doing so, Quiggin makes himself appear like a hard-working student, forging his way on merit alone. But despite this initial impression, Jenkins notices that “Quiggin’s work was something to be discussed rather than tackled, and that what he really enjoyed was drinking cups of coffee at odd times of day” (209).

Similar to Widmerpool, Quiggin is very ambitious. He works hard to come across as studious, and unlike most of Jenkins acquaintances, he is anything but a socialite. His appearance is “squat, already going bald…his neck encircled by a starched and grubby collar, his trousers kept up by a belt which he constantly adjusted,” a stark difference to the vanity of Peter Templer. His looks match his declamations on the state of the student body, “I thought people came to the university to study, not to booze and gas all the time” (181). Jenkins notices that Quiggin is constantly trying to network to his advantage, and is “surprisingly successful in impressing persons- as he seemed to have impressed Truscott” (209)

Members provides a fascinating foil for Quiggin. Sillery takes great joy in pointing out that Members and Quiggin are from the same town. This seems to suggest that they may come from similar backgrounds, if not financially than culturally. Members are very embarrassed by this fact and try to dodge questions about it when having tea with Short. This North Country, industrial background runs against the image Members is trying to create for himself. Members quips of “what very Monet weather it has been lately” show how painfully hard he tries to create his image as a member of the intelligentsia (190). He wishes to be seen as an elegant poet-intellectual who is comfortably located in Sillery’s inner circle. Members put on an extravagant show to act at ease with Sillery, referring to him as Sillers, and stretching out across Sillery’s floor. Quiggin, on the other hand, is described by Jenkins as “[sitting] sourly on the extreme edge of the sofa, glancing around the room like a fierce little animal, trapped by naturalists” (180).

In one manner Members and Quiggin are both very similar: they are both posers. They both wish to create a new persona in hopes that it their perceived identity will advance them closer to their goals. They both are attracted to Sillery because of what he represents. Members desire Sillery’s academic connotations and tries to use his connections with Sillery to get in with England’s elite. Just like Quiggin, he is drawn towards Truscott. Members is drawn to Truscott’s social status, and he attempts to put himself at a similar social standing in Truscott’s mind by joking “pleasure can be so exhausting” (186). Quiggin is more interested in Truscott’s political and business: he grills him on his new job with Sir Magnus Donners. This demonstrates how these two ambitious young men are located in different realms. Quiggin desires to make himself powerful through economic and political means, Members, on the other hand, wishes to rise to the top of the intellectual crowd. Both men come from the same town, but they try to project very different images that they both think will help advance them farther. Quiggin thinks that by playing up his working-class background he appears to show that he has risen by merit, and Members wishes to disassociate himself from his hometown and focus on his successful poetry career while at his posh Public School.

Due to Jenkin’s fascinations with oddball characters such as Quiggin, it is doubtless he will appear later on in the story. It will be interesting to see what path he takes coming out of the university. How will Quiggin and Jenkins cross paths again? Will Members ever reconcile his connection to Quiggin? The most fascinating scenario of all will be if the novels two outcasts, Quiggin and Widmerpool, have an encounter. It would be a brilliant clash of ambitions and awkward social skills.

It seems rash to indicate any kind of preference so early in the series, but while reading A Question of Upbringing I have grown especially attached to Jenkins, and all I can do is attempt to explain my reasons and hope he does not later turn out to be an axe-murderer. Short of his being an ax-murderer, though, I will defend him stubbornly, because, based on one quote — one casual, passing comment in the first few pages — I suspect Jenkins’ entire outlook on life is colored by what I privately refer to as “bookish idealism,” an affliction that has haunted me since the age of four and which gives me the greatest sympathy for his motivations.

The quote I find so revealing is actually about Templer. Jenkins is, in the beginning, not sure he likes his messmate because his “boast that he had never read a book for pleasure in his life did not predispose me in his favour: though he knew far more than I of the things about which books are written.” He clearly feels strongly about books if he is inclined to dislike anyone who dislikes reading, and his lack of worldly knowledge confirms that he has probably spent more time living through his books than through the kind of experiences Peter Templer has had. Lacking such experience, Jenkins is forced to see everything he encounters as he has learned: through books.

“Bookish idealism” being an entirely invented term, I’ll define it as the tendency to see life as one long, complex story, and the perpetual hope that said the story will contain characters as easy to understand as those in fiction. Jenkins certainly sees his life as a story; accustomed to watching events unfold in books, he tends to do the same with his own life, narrating faithfully but rarely involving himself. He watches and analyzes others carefully, but never examines his own actions and motivations in equal depth.

Another of Jenkins’ more noticeable weaknesses is his habit of leaping to absurdly detailed conclusions about people he has barely met, assigning them all sorts of qualities based on appearance or pure whim. Nowhere is this more clearly illustrated than Jenkins’ preconceived picture of Sunny Farebrother — for, except in novels, people rarely fit neatly into categories, or match whatever images their names might evoke.

Most obviously idealistic of all is his attitude towards love, which is treated so casually by Templer but is extremely important to Jenkins. Jean Templer is neither exceptionally pretty nor especially polite, remaining silent for most of his visit and speaking only to make some commonplace remark-yet Jenkins attributes this to Jean’s “mysterious, even melancholy, presence.” This is far less believable than Stringham’s melancholy; it would be acceptable if he had actually known Jean, but Jenkins wastes no time in comparing her to a sad young saint, a tragic martyr to tennis. Later, in France, his encounter with Suzette makes him aware of “that restless sense of something desired that had become an increasing burden upon both day and night.” He wants to love someone, even needs to be in love; so why not assign his desired qualities to girls too aloof to disturb his carefully crafted ideal? It is probably no coincidence that, straight from several years of living with and admiring Stringham, Jenkins is inclined to label anyone he wants to like as “melancholy.” Upon arriving in France, he falls for Suzette easily, instantly “seeing” in her the same emotional intensity he believes he has seen in Jean, although at that point he knows nothing about Suzette except her liking for writing letters in mauve ink.

Jenkins’ belief that first impressions and speculation can provide an accurate picture of any person is one that could only be practical in fiction; the constant evolution of his acquaintances show that real life doesn’t work that way. He possesses an odd combination of accurate observation and wild imagination; though he has all the qualities of a good narrator, he can’t be regarded as reliable until he can bring the two into balance.

Throughout “A Question of Upbringing,” relationships seem to dissolve as quickly as they form. A common theme recurring in this novel is the loss of touch with old friends as the characters move on in life. As the narrator describes on page 229, “Human relationships flourish and decay, quickly and silently, so that those concerned scarcely know how brittle, or how inflexible, the ties that bind them have become.” Two major examples of decaying friendships in this novel are those between Stringham and Templer, and Stringham and Jenkins.

Jenkins, Stringham and Templer all attend Eton together in their college years and become friends by bonding over everyday occurrences such as complaining about Les Bas, mocking Widmerpool, and talking about girls. They room together, dine together, and satisfy the typical stereotype of college boys in England. By chapter two, however, Jenkins becomes aware of the differences between Stringham and Templer. He “recognizes how much their unlikeness to each other might also be attributed to a dissimilar background.” This foreshadows the decisive moment in which it is clear that Stringham and Templer’s companionship is over.

The final falling out between these two long-time friends happens near the end of “A Question of Upbringing.” Templer shows up to visit Stringham and Jenkins, bringing along his new friends Bob Duport and Jimmy Brent. When the five men go out to dinner, Jenkins and Stringham talk to Peter “rather fragmentarily”(192) while “Duport and Brent grunt to each other from time to time.”(192) Having gone through many different experiences since college, they only manage to make small talk. This happens to every person at least once in their life, as they part ways with their friends and reunite, finding their goals in life are no longer the same. The three old friends know they have each gone there separate ways and just do not share the same camaraderie they did back at Eton. At dinner, Jenkins acknowledges to himself the change between Templer and Stringham. He realizes they no longer have anything in common and have grown out of each other’s “habit of mind” and “manner of talking.”(192) This proves a valid point because as people grow up and move on, their priorities change. Emphasized by their dissimilar backgrounds, it is not a surprise that their relationship did not work out. The accident involving Peter Templer’s car serves as a solid end to his friendship with Stringham. In describing this situation, the narrator says, ” there could be no doubt whatever that metamorphosis had taken place; and sometimes, it was almost as if Stringham were speaking of a friend who had died, or gone beyond the sea to a place from which he would never return.”(201) The two simply set foot on different paths in life.

This car incident does not have as great an impact on Jenkins as Stringham. Jenkins does mention that if Brent and Duport are “typical representatives of his London circle,”(201) then he does not care to spend much time with them. Though not particularly fond of Templer’s new friends, Jenkins does not hold anything against him. Jenkins and Stringham’s relationship, however eventually withers away at the end of the first book. The major turning point occurs when the two plan to dine, but Stringham instead attends “good party” that he is invited to last minute. He invites Jenkins to come and talk with him as he changes for the party after they get a quick drink. Although it is understandable that Stringham goes to the party, as he can see Jenkins anytime, for some reason this incident seems to affect their relationship. As they reminisce about university life, Les Bas and old memories such as Braddock alias Thorne, Jenkins realizes things have changed, just as things changed between Stringham and Templer. Jenkins even admits, “I knew now that this parting was one of those final things that happen, recurrently, as time passes. “(229)

The friendship situations between Stringham, Templer and Jenkins seem inevitable to turn out the way they did. Templer and Stringham come from completely different backgrounds, have different plans for life, and surround themselves with different groups of people. Similarly, Jenkins and Stringham no longer share similar ideals and ambitions. Just as in real life, people tend to associate with those with common goals as themselves. As Jenkins simply put it, “the path had suddenly forked.”

Jenkins of A Question of Upbringing by Anthony Powell is an unusually passive narrator. Instead of asserting himself in the story, it appears that in most cases he is merely a spectator of his life. He writes with over twenty years hindsight which allows his to omit and exaggerate certain memories which he finds most appealing. Though the reader must rely on his narration, it seems odd that his passivity is common place through out the novel. The only way Jenkins asserts his opinion is when commenting on the appearance and actions of others. His first impression of every character is based on his feeling at that moment, which changes with every situation. During lively moments, such as the Braddock Alias Thorne incident, Jenkins chooses to remain uninvolved. The only two times where Jenkins asserts himself are when he asks for his seat on the train from England to France, and when confessing his false-love for Madame Dubission. Beyond these two times, Jenkins does not involve himself in the story of his life. His reserved characteristics lend itself to detailed observations of the world around him, forcing the reader to interpret and analyze his opinions.

During the Braddock alias Thorne incident where it would have been easy for Jenkins to take charge in the action, he chose to sit back and let the event happen around him. Jenkins does not express a single reaction when Stringham breaks the news that he called the police on La Bas. The conversation bounces easily between Stringham and Templer right passed the reserved Jenkins. He passively observes their excited conversation, “[Templer] `Is this a joke,’ [Stringham] `Yes,’ `Where did you tell them to look,’ `In the field beyond the railway line.,’ `Why?,’ `Set your mind to it.,’ `Le Bas,’ `Neat, wasn’t it?” ( Powell 45). Even when there are times for him to interject he allows the moment to pass by. This type of narration gives the reader Jenkin’s personal perspective while in the situation but his actions are more as a third person narrator in the way he is removed from the story.

There are two examples throughout the entire first novel that show Jenkins acting in an assertive manner. First is during his train ride from England to France. It took the sour wine and crowded train to create a “throbbing in [his] head so intense” that he made up his mind to “eject the man with the beard” (Powell 107). He briefly argued with the man and reclaimed his seat. This was the first act of true assertiveness on Jenkin’s part throughout the book. He could have easily let the uncomfortable moment sustain itself but chose to take a stand for what was rightfully his. It was the influence of poor wine and the overstimulation of the train which took him beyond his comfort zone enough to demand his place back.

It is not until later in France under the sway of lustful young love which pushes Jenkins to establish himself once again. Under the impression that he was going to meet Suzette in the summer house, he practised lines in French to confess that she is why his “visit to the Grenadière seem so romantic” (165). Once approaching the woman sitting under what use to be Suzette’s hat, Jenkins soon realized that it was, in fact, Madame Dubuisson. At that point, he realizes that “It was not too late to retreat. I had prepared a few sentences to express my feelings, and I was already half-way through one of them. Having made the mistake, there was nothing for it but to behave as if it were indeed Madame Dubuisson” who the lines were intended for (Powell 164-165). Instead of a swift apology and steady retreat as would be expected from Jenkins, he chooses to follow through despite his mistake. He stands up for himself in a very uncomfortable situation contrasting his typical choices. These two examples show the gradual development of Jenkins character into more than just a passive observer.

It is unusual for a narrator of such a long book to remain so reserved in the recitation of his own life story. The only advantage that this type of narration gives the reader is a detailed description and analysis of each character and their interactions with others. It is in these descriptions where Jenkins is able to pass his judgment on those around him, through his assessment seems to change each time he sees the character. This is most obviously true with Widmerpool. Jenkins first sees Widmerpool coming out of the mist waving his arms and legs awkwardly, Stringham immediately jumps into an imitation of his gawky walk. At this first appearance of Winderpool Jenkins as an unprecedented reaction: “from an unreasoning fear of the embarrassment that would be caused me if Widmerpool should look back and himself observe Stringham’s agitated pantomime, I persuaded him to stop this improvisation” (38). In this instance, Jenkins feels an urge to stand up for a defenceless classmate. This is surprising when Jenkins is barely able to assert is own opinion on things in front of Stringham and Templer. Jenkin’s first reaction to Widmerpool is to protect him, but this attitude changes at their next meeting outside of school.

When Jenkins runs into Widmerpool at his stay in the Grenadière he approaches him with his original impression of a socially inept schoolboy. Jenkins soon finds that Widmerpool is exceedingly opinionated and self-confident. Widmerpool begins by making harsh criticisms about Stringham and Templer as if he knew them. This leads Jenkins to find “Widmerpool’s remarks in this view so tiresome that I was almost inclined to try and shock him;” though Jenkins decides that it would be “beneath my dignity to discuss his family affairs with someone who, like Widmerpool, knew of them only by hearsay. In this instance, his opinion of Widmerpool completely changes. Though Jenkins tends not to react to situations that would normally elicit a response, certain moments such as these, move him to defend those who are not there. If these situations had been in reverse, Jenkins would not have prevented Stringham’s improvisation of Widmerpool. His alliances easily change with a single rude encounter, constantly modifying how Jenkins, and in turn the reader, perceives each character.

Though Jenkins is generally a passive narrator it is apparent through these examples that is a character is growing. Jenkins is rarely directly assertive but instead takes a passive-aggressive role. Jenkins opinion is only clear through his critical commentaries on characters. When he feels that a character is being misrepresented he will stand up for them, though he is careful not to offend the instigator of criticism. His roundabout way of asserting his opinion entices the reader to trust his judgment of those around him. Though Jenkins is an atypical narrator, his character is evolving to become more assertive. Jenkins passive style is engaging because it makes the reader question his opinions leading to a well-rounded view of each scene and character.

At English universities, a student is not required to attend class but rather is assigned a don, with whom the student masters a particular subject. By associating themselves with students, dons form a very close network amongst their undergraduates. In the novel, A Question of Upbringing by Anthony Powell, Sillery, a respected don at Oxford University, has a very similar association; however, his motives for consorting with the particular students that are within his network are questionable. Although at first, Jenkins’ perception of Sillery is one of good connotations, his opinion changes considerably over the course of the last chapter due to Short’s explanations of Sillery’s character and his own close ties with Stringham.

Every Sunday, Sillery holds tea-parties to converse with his students and occasionally other dons. Prior to Jenkins’ first few appearances at these parties, he already acquires a preconception of Sillery’s personality. Powell writes, “It was natural enough that Sillery should enjoy emphasizing the fact that he numbered among his friends and former pupils a great number of successful people,” (168). From what Short describes, Sillery regularly name-drops and makes the other attendants fully aware of his connections with his affluent former students and prosperous friends. Jenkins considers Short’s depiction and believes this characteristic of Sillery to be acceptable. However, as Jenkins drops in on a few parties, his view of this trait is contorted. At first, he considers Sillery to be, “a glorified schoolmaster,” (169) who has aided prior students to greatness and wishes to further learn about his current students in order, “to know better how to instruct them,” (169). As Jenkins speaks with and observes Sillery, he learns that this is not actually the case, but rather Sillery desires to discover, “undergraduate connections which might be of use to him,” (169). As Short describes him, Sillery “‘never tak[es] his tea without an intrigue,'” (171) which means that he always has a purpose for who he invites to his parties. He portrays this scheming behavior especially when Stringham arrives at Oxford.

Stringham’s family is characterized by wealth and nobility. While his mother is an affluent heiress, who spends her money generously, his father is heavily involved in the gold trade in Africa thus making Stringham a perfect target for Sillery. In the matter of Stringham working with Sir Magnus Donners, it is evident that Sillery would do whatever to get his way, which was for Stringham to leave Oxford early and work with Donners. At this point in the chapter, Sillery appears at his worst and most manipulative; Jenkins even compares him to the blind seer Tiresias. In ancient Greek mythology, Tiresias was transformed into a woman for seven years because he displeased Hera. In this way, Sillery is like Tiresias because he is able to assume, “female character if required. With Truscott, for instance, he would behave like an affectionate aunt,” (208). Sillery alters his personality in order to manipulate and further connect to his students. While talking to Stringham and Miss Weedon, he changes his character to fit the situation. At first, Sillery is aggressive as he tries to control the conversation, but when Miss Weedon brings the dialogue back to her terms Sillery becomes reserved The two struggle in this way until Buster and Mrs. Foxe arrive. At this moment Sillery changes immediately, acting very flirtatiously. Like Tiresias, he becomes very womanly when he confines, “himself to flattery, and perhaps [allows] Buster to hear the names of some of the more impressive specimens in his collection,” (219). Sillery’s devious manipulation of Buster proves to be effective because within minutes they decide that Stringham will leave school and work in the city. Through all of this, Sillery has made another connection, with which he can boast about to other future students at the university.

With the help of Short’s descriptions of Sillery and Jenkins’ friendship with Stringham, Jenkins is able to observe Sillery’s behavior more closely and can make assessments of Sillery’s character. Over the course of the last chapter, Jenkins’ perception of Sillery changes from him being a “glorified schoolmaster,” (169) to one of excessive and deceitful manipulation.

Family trusts and other forms of inherited wealth can breed weird and embarrassing behavior among family members. The purpose of a family trust is to pass the earned wealth of one generation on to the next. However, when divided among multiple individuals, trusts can bring turmoil to a family. In the opening chapter of A Question of Upbringing, the narrator, Jenkins, introduces his Uncle Giles as an abnormal, unreliable character obsessed with the Jenkins family trust. According to Jenkins, “nothing [Uncle Giles] does can ever be accepted as serious” (p.16). Uncle Giles obsession with the trust is revealed by his unannounced arrival in Jenkins’s dorm at Eton. Similarly, my grandparents were also obsessed with the terms of the two family trusts, of which they were members. Like Uncle Giles, my grandparents too were awkward to be around.

The trust money that my grandparents received came from two family trusts – one set up by my grandfather’s family and the other by my grandmother’s. John Clay, my grandfather’s grandfather, was a successful businessman and rancher in Wyoming. After his death, his grandchildren placed what was remaining of his estate and fortune in a trust, in order to protect the money from John Clay Jr., who was a big spender. On my grandmother’s side there was another trust. The Rogers family, a successful landowning family in Chicago during the early 20th century, put the family fortune into a trust, of which my grandmother and her two siblings were members.

For both Uncle Giles and my grandparents, the trust money did not solve any financial problems. When describing the trust, Jenkins says, “Uncle Giles has never been satisfied that he was receiving the full amount to which he was by right entitled: so that when times were hard – which happened about every eighteen months – he used to apply pressure with a view to squeezing out a few pounds more than his agreed position” (p.22). Whereas Jenkins father has made his own living, Uncle Giles is incapable of living within his means and instead relies on the money from the trust routinely to fallback on. Additionally, Uncle Giles’s obsession of the trust damages his relationship with both Jenkins and Jenkins’s father, Uncle Giles’s brother. Uncle Giles’s routine attempts to change the terms of the trust, as Jenkins describes, “had the effect of making my father exceedingly angry; and…they had resulted in an almost complete severance of relations between the two brothers.” As a result, the family trust ironically tears apart the Jenkins family.

Likewise, the trust money inherited by my grandparents disrupted my family more than it helped. Before they even received the money from the two trusts, my grandparents borrowed against it to go on exotic vacations and live a life of luxury. On a side note, my grandparents did not once consider spending money on their children. “Granny,” my dad’s grandmother, paid for my dad’s Andover and MIT education. In the long run, this created a rift between my father and his parents. After paying of their debts following the dispersion of the trust money in the early ’90s, my grandparents had little-to-no money to spend or borrow against. However, just as Uncle Giles fails to live within his means, my grandparents were not able to be self-sufficient and relied on the financial support of their children, including my dad, to fall back on. In the same way Uncle Giles and his brother drift apart because of the trust, the relationship between my father and his parents broke apart as a result of money issues.

The behavior of both Uncle Giles and my grandparents, though different, makes it embarrassing to be around them. Uncle Giles’s unexpected appearance at Eton creates an awkward situation between him, Jenkins, and Stringham. Jenkins describes his uncle’s entrance by saying, “At first…he did not venture to advance farther into the room, meekly conscious that his unexpected arrival might … be regarded by the occupants as creating a pivot for potential embarrassment” (p.15). In fact, the real purpose of Uncle’s Giles’s visit, embarrassingly, is to find the whereabouts of Jenkins’s father, in order to ask for a bigger share of the trust.

In a similar way, my grandparents, especially my grandfather, acted arrogantly, and, like Uncle Giles, were embarrassing to be around. On several occasions, my grandfather would boast about the exotic vacations and first class flights he had taken. Yet he failed to state that he was spending money that he himself did not earn. After my grandparents spent most of the trust money, though, they became increasingly like Uncle Giles, routinely asking for money to pay their bills.

While family trusts are nice free sources of income, they tend to breed strange, embarrassing behavior in family members. In addition, trusts and inherited wealth allow people, like Uncle Giles and my grandparents, to live off the work of others rather than their own merit or entrepreneurship.

Throughout Anthony Powell’s A Question of Upbringing, the reader is introduced to many characters, some of whom are very similar. Widmerpool has an awkward manner, and no matter how hard he works, he never gains recognition. Sillery desires to become involved in higher level politics, but also wants to direct his undergraduates. Even though Widmerpool and Sillery are different, they share many qualities; both of the men desire power and influence and are willing to work extremely hard to achieve it, but want to use it for different ends.

Widmerpool seems like a socially inept school boy, but he has high aspirations and works hard to achieve them. The least of his ambitions is to make the Eton varsity teams. He trains harder then the other boys by going on “a run by himself every afternoon” (3). To him, one of the benefits of earning his colors would be acceptance and some small degree of power that came with it. He would have influence with some of the more popular students and be able to use those connections to better his own place. Widmerpool lives a lonely life because no one knows how to react to him. Jenkins describes him as being “indigestible to the community” (5). He desires to be recognized for his work and for himself, but has been unable to achieve it. When Widmerpool leaves the school, the only real act of influence he has performed was not well received. He turned in Akworth for writing the love note to Templer, and Akworth was expelled. In return, many people were upset with him. Instead of being respected and gaining power, Widmerpool is even more of an outcast.

In France, Widmerpool retains his awkward and defensive manner, but also has new ambitions and successes. He immediately tries to enforce the rule of speaking French, just as he gave Templer a lecture on morals at Eton, to show he has authority. His self-perceived superiority is further demonstrated when he tells Jenkins that he is studying in Touraine because that is where the best French is spoken. In his quest for perfection, Widmerpool locks himself in his room to study French literature. He also works hard in the social aspect of his life, unlike what he did at Eton. If Widmerpool can gain better social skills, then he might be able to gain power by meeting important people. He takes time to talk with Örn and Lunquist, ultimately resolving the conflict, but he never receives the credit or influence he desires. He attempts to become their friend, but they do not even let him join them on walks. The rest of the house does not even know he played a part in the resolution. Widmerpool is focused on his future particularly topics he perceives as important and an improvement to himself. The incident with the Scandinavians is just practice for negotiating real world incidents. Although he is only a solicitor, he keeps aspiring towards business and politics, both fields requiring an influence that he has not yet gained. However, he believes that once he breaks into his new career he will be able to use his power to further improve himself until he reaches the top. Widmerpool desires to have power, just like Sillery wants influence.

Sillery desires power, but has been unsuccessful at gaining any significant authority. He has put on his tea parties for years, and knows quite a few prominent people, including former Prime Ministers Asquith and Gladstone. Sillery once had hope of advancing in the Liberal party, but since that plan failed he lives vicariously through his undergraduates. He takes pleasure in finding obscure connections that he might one day use. He seems greedy when it comes to gathering information by “rubbing his hands together, and nodding quickly” (188). When Bill Truscott starts talking about Sir Magnus it is obvious that Sillery wants to be told in private so one else will know his secrets. Although he knows many influential people, he has had little success using his connections outside the university. Sillery pulled a few strings during the General Strike, but exerting his influence had no effect on the outcome. Even if he does not have real power, he has the power of gossip. Being able to pass chosen information on gives him some authority, but nothing of note. Sillery likes to display his knowledge even when he is merely introducing people during his parties. He also makes references to those he knows, such as he does during lunch with Stringham where he mentions eating with Gladstone. The reader gets the impression that Sillery likes to use his connections as bragging rights and for setting up the current students instead of advancing himself.

Both Widmerpool and Sillery desire power and influence, but they want to use it in different ways. Both take delight in knowing facts that others do not. Widmerpool uncharacteristically talks with Stringham after he hears the news of Le Bas’s arrest because he is excited to have the news before the rest of the school. Sillery gives out information about Quiggin’s and Members’s hometown to keep them in line. Both know the importance of knowing influential people; as Widmerpool tells Jenkins, “brains and hard work are of very little avail unless you know the right people” (135). The difference between Sillery and Widmerpool is that everyone knows what Sillery is after, while Widmerpool just seems socially inept. His aspiration and pursuit for influence is subtle, as Jenkins says, even in France he “did not recognize the quest for power” (157). With his strong ambitions, he could one day have authority of his own. Like Widmerpool, some people think Sillery is a little confused and his influence is nothing like he thinks it is.

Both Widmerpool and Sillery desire power. However, Sillery wants influence over his graduate students, while Widmerpool wants authority for himself. People know what Sillery is after, but Widmerpool’s quest for power is more subtle. Since Widmerpool has just started his career, he may advance considerably. Both seem a little eccentric at times, but both have influence.

At the completion of Anthony Powell’s A Question of Upbringing, we have been introduced to a host of characters, and have seen them grow from being adolescent boys into young men. At the core of the story to date, there are four characters we have watched make this growth: Jenkins, Stringham, Templer, and Widmerpool. Throughout the entire story, however, Widmerpool is the character of which we see the least. He remains almost entirely a mystery through the opening chapter. When we see him again in the third chapter, we meet him first hand, and our (and Jenkins’) first impression is that Widmerpool has made a great change. If we study both views of Widmerpool, however, we realize that we do not have two Widmerpools, but merely that we are seeing him through two different points of view.

Widmerpool is the first character we meet through the eyes of our narrator, and we get a very mysterious view of him. As we watch Widmerpool trudge through the snow, “his appearance suddenly [impresses] itself upon the observer, as stiffly, almost majestically, Widmerpool [moves] on his heels out of the mist.” (Powell, 4) There is a sort of mystique about him, which is further advanced by the fact that Jenkins has never really spent much time with Widmerpool. The stories he hears about Widmerpool all paint him out to be very strange, and never quite fitting in. He trains hard for the seasonal games, and works hard in school, but “he [has] no colors, and although far from being a dunce, there [is] nothing notable about his work.” He also walks, speaks, and dresses strangely, and is made fun of by the others, acquiring quite a reputation for his ways. “His voice was pitched high and he articulated poorly, as if tongue were too big for mouth… [and] even five or six years later you might still occasionally hear an obtrusive or inappropriate garment referred to as `a Widmerpool’.” (Powell, 4-5) On the whole, he seems to be a rather disconnected from his peers, despite his many attempts to distinguish himself. He is, unfortunately, unsuccessful at this, as “the only occasion when [Jenkins] heard these exertions of his receive some small amount of public recognition had been about a month before this…transcendental manifestation of himself to [him] in the mist.” (Powell, 6) His interactions with the other boys include the affair where Budd threw a banana at Widmerpool’s face, and his involvement in Akworth’s expulsion from Eaton. Both incidents did not impress the other boys.  

The next time we see Widmerpool, he and Jenkins are in France. Jenkins has come to La Grenadiere and he runs into Widmerpool there. It seems almost that we meet an entirely different Widmerpool from the one we knew at Eaton. Widmerpool has “tidied himself up a bit since leaving school, though there was still a kind of exotic drabness about his appearance.” (Powell, 118) He seems to assert himself much more at La Grenadiere, and talks a great deal with Jenkins, despite the fact that they had virtually no contact at all at Eaton. He makes great efforts to involve himself in the affairs of other. He takes pride in the fact that he has “settled the matter between the Monsieurs Orn and Lundquist,” (Powell, 153) and is extremely critical of Jenkins when he berates the two for their petty argument. He is extremely surprised at the fact that Jenkins does know what he wishes to study when he goes to university, despite Widmerpool’s own departure from education. “He was almost as shocked at hearing that [Jenkins] had no ready-made plans for a career as he had been scandalized a few minutes earlier at the information regarding the precocious dissipation of Templer’s life.” (Powell, 133)

At first, these two impressions of Widmerpool seem quite different. If we examine the core of his behavior, however, regardless of the way others act toward him, Widmerpool has not really changed. There are values and patterns that we see in the first Widmerpool that remain constant when we see him in France. In both points of view, we see that he is tied strongly to a set of beliefs. While he is at Eaton, we get a thorough exposure to them when he gives Templer “a tremendous jaw on morals.” (Powell, 13) We see this adherence to beliefs again, when Widmerpool insists that Jenkins speak in French, so as not to defeat the “purpose” of the visit to France. Widmerpool’s criticism of Templer’s morals mirrors his later criticism of Jenkins’ berating of the Scandinavians. Even though he seems to be somewhat more natural, he has clearly kept his “thick, flat voice” (Powell, 117) and strange manner of walking when he comes to France. His diligence despite his mediocrity manifests itself in a new form: instead of applying himself to training for various games played at Eaton, he applies himself to learning the French language. He also goes to great lengths to make himself significant in either society, with more success at La Grenadiere. His methods may be different, but Widmerpool’s goals and principles inherently remain the same. As we progress through the novel, we may see different faces of Widmerpool, but assuredly, he may remain the same in many ways.

Sillery’s parties are a unique attraction that Powell uses as a vehicle for the introduction of some new characters in A Question of Upbringing who will undoubtedly have an important impact throughout the rest of the story. While these introductions are brief, we are able to gain significant insight into who these people are. We first meet the Finn, Vaalkiipaa and the American Rhodes Scholar, Cheston Honthorst, but neither character is of any consequence in the first novel. We are then introduced to J.G. Quiggin and Mark Members, two students who are of particular interest to Sillery. Upon entering the scene we learn about the relationship between Stringham (more so his family) and Sillery. “Sillers” (182) has different reasons for liking Members and Quiggin. The interest shown is a result of Sillery being a social climber, in the sense that he looks to get in with those who have either already been successful in society, or are well on their way.

“How is your mother?” (175) Sillery asks Stringham upon his arrival. He immediately looks to further a relationship he has with Stringham’s family by acting as if the two are already old friends. The light peppering with questions about Stringham’s parents from Sillery that ensues is an attempt to gain Stringham’s confidence in him. Sillery likes people of high stock, although they must be of British background because the American, while he is “of millionaire stock on both sides of his family” (176), does not garner the same interest from Sillery as Stringham. Sillery makes light of the fact that Stringham has vacationed in Kenya and “his home is the beautiful house, Glimber” (178) when introducing him to Quiggin to suggest his affluence and he turns that wealth into a certain standing in society. 

Members and Quiggin draw the attention of Sillery for reasons that are much the opposite of those he has for liking Stringham. Members had already had some success as an individual, having a poem of his published in “Public School Verse”, a literary magazine. This is seen as quite an accomplishment in the eyes of Sillery, and it is clear he wants to maintain favorable relations with Members in the hopes of capitalizing on any future successes he may have in poetry. When Members drops down onto the floor because he “…always lies on the floor.” (181) Sillery “starts violently” (181) but then is accommodating and does not ask him to move, in the fear of unsettling this harmonious relationship he had with young Members.

“And you, Quiggin, are you happy?’ Sillery asked.” (181) Exhibiting maternal like concern for Quiggin’s well being, Sillery is attracted to him because “he has collected unto himself sundry scholarships and exhibitions” which, Sillery says “is … much to his credit” (177). Through earning these scholarships Quiggin has proved he is a self-promoting individual with talent and the will to succeed.

The arrival of Bill Truscott brings to fruition the reason for the affection that Sillery shows towards the three students. Bill is a combination of the wealth of Stringham and the realized potential of Quiggin and Members. “… he was one of those persons who, from their earliest years, are marked down to do great things.” (183) Furthermore “he was not only successful and ambitious, but he was also quite well off for a bachelor” (183) This is the quintessential young man that Sillery hopes Stringham, Quiggin and Members will all turn into. At the end of A Question of Upbringing we see that Stringham has already realized this potential by taking the position offered by Trucott’s boss, Sir Magnus Donners. He expects they will achieve Trucott’s rank in the near future, and by taking care of his relationships with them at the beginning of their bright careers he will be able to take advantage of their stature in society later.

In Anthony Powell’s A Question of Upbringing, the narrator, Jenkins, shares his views of the character Widmerpool throughout the novel. In the very beginning of the novel, Jenkins thinks of what he calls Widmerpool’s “acknowledged oddness” (pg. 3) as a myth. When Jenkins introduces Widmerpool, however, he sees this quality for the first time, reacting with a combination of fascination and disgust. Jenkins then recounts a few of his other experiences with Widmerpool at Eton, which is almost entirely negative. Later, when Jenkins travels to France, he meets Widmerpool at a manor, La Grenadiere, where they are both staying. Here Jenkins also shows few positive qualities of Widmerpool’s, yet Jenkins’s actions indicate his fascination. Widmerpool seems to have changed since his years as an outcast at Eton, but Jenkins allows his later impressions of Widmerpool to keep him from revealing any goodwill.

Jenkins mentions when he sees Widmerpool running that he had heard many stories about him, but they, “had not made him live” (pg. 4). Obviously Jenkins is not referring to Widmerpool’s existence, he acknowledges having “seen him before…even spoken with him” (pg. 3), but it seems that until this point Jenkins was unable to reconcile the stories he was told by his friends with his personal impression of Widmerpool. While Jenkins is watching Widmerpool run he notices, “something comfortless and inelegant in his appearance” (pg. 4). This prompts a list of complaints about Widmerpool, largely about his “unscintillating career at school” (pg. 6), notable only for an obtrusive overcoat and his low social status. Why exactly Jenkins is fascinated with Widmerpool at Eton is not clear, and although in public Jenkins reveals sentiments very similar to those of his friends, who are decidedly unfriendly towards Widmerpool, he does not present any actions of his own to support these denunciations.

After leaving Eton, Jenkins spends some time at La Grenadiere in France, which is owned by an interpreter named Commandant Leroy, who knew Jenkins’s father, and his wife, Madame Leroy. Widmerpool, who is there as well, seems to have become more socially competent, although Jenkins does not alter his expressed views. Widmerpool is only a little upset when Jenkins talks to him in English, but offers to make an exception to the rules of the house, which allow only French to be spoken, and give Jenkins a tour in English. Later, Widmerpool is able to stop Messers Örn and Lundquist from arguing with each other through extensive diplomacy. Jenkins does his best to appear unimpressed, asking whether Widmerpool told them, “not to be such bloody fools” (pg. 153). Widmerpool tells Jenkins that in order to be effective he had to sympathize with them. Jenkins then relates that he was, in fact, “more than a little impressed” (pg. 156) with Widmerpool. Indeed, the reconciliation of two furious grown men after a significant amount of work seems impressive. Then, clearly looking back from far in the future, Jenkins claims that “even then I did not recognize the quest for power” (pg. 157).

Especially given Jenkins’s earlier experiences with Widmerpool at Eton, where he was certainly not assertive, this jump to conclusions about Widmerpool’s predetermined “quest for power” (pg. 157) reveals a lot about the future. In light of that statement, Jenkins’s previous mention that “there was on no occasion the slightest question of Widmerpool being bullied,” (pg. 6) seems to seek excuses. Widmerpool may have been a bit of an outcast at Eton, but in Jenkins’s eyes, there is no reason to be bitter. It seems to contradict Jenkins’s claim that Widmerpool’s later embarkation on a “quest for power” (pg. 157) should have been obvious at the time. The fascination seeks the answer to where it all went wrong, to the maladies of Widmerpool’s character, and to distance Jenkins from any blame. This backwards perspective of Jenkins’s leads him to conclusions based upon later events, biasing his narrating of Widmerpool’s statements and actions in the novel.

Sillery is a modestly popular, slightly odd character, with great influences. Every Sunday he hosts tea-parties for the undergraduates in order to meet them or get to know better those he knows already. Sillery seems to be a friendly and welcoming person, but in fact he is using the students and other people he meets to extend his web of influence and acting as he does in order to attain or keep those contacts.

Sillery keeps his guests comfortable and open. His tea-parties are held in his college, in a room with homey furniture and a relaxed atmosphere; relaxed enough for Mark Members to address him as “Sillers” and lie on the floor. He is very good at connecting with people: upon meeting Stringham, Sillery puts forth a stream of questions and comments, showing his knowledge and acquaintance with Stringham’s family. He tries to make sure no one feels uncomfortable, asking of the room before Quiggin’s arrival that they be “specially understanding with him (177).” When Mrs. Foxe and Buster arrive for their meal with Sillery concerning Stringham’s employment, Sillery engages Mrs. Fox in “conversation that took up the threads of their acquaintanceship years before.(218)” He is able to impress and relate to almost everyone with his knowledge of people and charisma.

It appears that Sillery is always charming and welcoming his acquaintances, but his intent is actually solely to gain contacts and extend his influence. He invites students to have tea with him, but not without reason. Jenkins’ father has important connections in France. Stringham knows Sunny Farebrother and his mother has contacts of interest to him. Quiggin has collected “sundry scholarships” and exhibitions, in Sillery’s eyes making him likely to be a future important contact. The others at tea include a millionaire American Rhodes Scholar and a published poet. After introductions, two students remain without Sillery’s acknowledging anything of particular importance in their families or other associations: Vaalkiipaa and Paul. When he invites students to have tea with him, it would seem that it would be a time to socialize, but the conversation in the room is rare aside from a conversation Sillery is having with one or two students. Sillery gives students time to converse with him proportionally to how valuable they are in terms of potential to reach influential positions and prominent contacts, speaking little with Vaalkiipaa and Paul, and spending large amount of time with Members. If this is not a time for socialization and discussion between the students and they are mostly hand picked by Sillery to be there, it seems to be a fabrication of Sillery’s in order to extract important contacts from the undergraduates and keep their respect and trust so that he will always be able to use them. Indeed, when Truscott, a person in a very influential position with contacts, walks in and mentions an important matter that they should talk about in private, Sillery shortly announces that he is “going to drive you all out into the wind and rain in order that Bill and I can have a chat about matters (189).” In spite of protests from Quiggin and Members, he is determined to have them leave him alone with Truscott, whom he deems much more important.

In Stringham’s lunch with Sillery concerning his career, his reactions to meeting different family members shows how concentrated he is on the use of people. When Miss Weedon arrives in place of Mrs. Foxe, “there could be no doubt that he was deeply disappointed at Mrs. Foxe’s defection; and that he did not feel Miss Weedon be, in any way, an adequate substitution for Stringham’s mother (213).” She does not seem to have enough influence over either the present issue or the greater world to satisfy him and be worth much of his effort in trying to impress her, so he drops his charming and impressive façade. Despite his doubts, he still begins with “exploring her own possibilities for exploitation (213).” This leads to an absurd assumption of personas on both Sillery’s and Miss Weedon’s parts, and it is a great relief when Mrs. Foxe and Buster arrive. In this more important company, Sillery becomes lively and friendly again. He takes Buster aside, immediately noting that he is the mind that needs to be changed, and soon convinces him of his point of view. Jenkins believes this may have been affected by Sillery making an offer or “it is probable that […] the two of them were aware […] of mutual sympathy: Sillery confining himself to flattery and perhaps allowing Buster to hear the names of some of the more impressive specimens in his collection (219).” His task completed, Sillery acts accordingly to be on the good side of Mrs. Foxe and Buster for the short while until they leave. He has put Stringham into a position such that he “could not only supply news of that large concern but could also keep an eye on Sillery’s other man (206)” and would not “fall under influences other than – an alien to – Sillery’s (206)” at the university.
  
Sillery is quick to charm and gains the trust of many people, but he is exploiting them such that he can have a flexible and powerful influence. His collection of “specimens” is one of his most valued possessions and he manipulates people to add to it.

Due to a selection of various factors; time, class, location, culture, social status, it is difficult to connect to the character Widmerpool, of Anthony Powell’s A Question of Upbringing. It’s challenging to always understand where he is coming from, why he does certain things, and what we are supposed to make of them. I wasn’t going to a boarding school in London during the 1920’s; I don’t know what it was like. Therefore I’m hesitant to judge Widmerpool on his actions without proper context, using reactions from the Narrator as my sole basis. Instead, what can be done is compare Widmerpool to himself, examine his character and how it develops with respect to small changes in time and location.   

We all know what it’s like to be grouped into a certain category, associated as a stereotype, or be treated a particular way simply because everyone else does. This can be decided or derived from how many friends one has, what athletics one does, what one looks like, how smart one is, etc… We are always being classified, whether it’s for the better or for the worse. Widmerpool is no exception. His character in chapter one is for the most part timid, unknown, unpopular, and awkward, the type of person who exercises alone, does not connect with others, and has strong beliefs yet is too hesitant to say them. He knows it, and his peers know it. We can tell that Widmerpool wishes to change these traits from the few scenes in which he tries. When is he the innocent victim of a food fight, instead of becoming angry he attempts to play it off as nothing more than a small inconvenience, hoping to gain acceptance from the other boys. “I don’t mind, I don’t mind at all Budd. It doesn’t matter in the least” Sadly all that is achieved is to make the situation unbearably awkward. It is clear where he stands in terms of rules, obeying and enforcing them. While not the most outspoken, his hand in getting Akworth kicked out and obvious disapproval of practical jokes signifies his stance. Yet due to his lack of self-confidence, formed from the opinions of his classmates, he is inept at actually portraying these views. “Widmerpool also stopped singing for a second and he too glanced across reprovingly.” Here is an exception to his usually stoic characteristics, revealing his true self is when he “got hold of Peter and gave him a tremendous jaw on morals.” This is perhaps the only time in chapter one, where we see what he really would act like if it weren’t for his surroundings.

Given his relationship to the other boys of the boarding school, it is difficult for Widmerpool to act as he normally would or as he would like to. Seemingly regardless of what he does, he will always be the same to them. This is the cause of his drastic character change in the third chapter. France gives Widmerpool a new beginning, a fresh start. With the exception of Jenkins, there is no one who will treat him unfairly due to prior feelings. It gives him the opportunity to truly express who he is, not who he is believed to be. Because of this, we, through Jenkins, see a completely different Widmerpool. “In this circle he had made himself an accepted, if not specially popular figure. There was no question here of his being looked upon by the rest of the community as the oddity he had been regarded at school.” He is confident and assertive; especially in terms of rules “you know we are supposed to talk French here, Jenkins.” Instead of letting others guess what he feels, he makes it openly known. At the same time he allows Jenkins/us to see a deeper side of him that was hidden during school. He shows real passion for what he is doing, and tries to share it with others. He expresses specifically his likes and dislikes. Including how severely disappointed he is in Jenkins for going along with the “Le Bas Incident.” Even Jenkins admits that he never thought of Widmerpool actually having emotions during school, and now realizes that there is much more to him. “I still only saw him in the crude and inadequate terms with which I had accepted him at school. It never occurred to me that he might feel equally attracted towards Berthe or Suzette.”

For the first time in the book Widmerpool takes a definite stance on matters concerning life and how one should live, and even goes as far as to share these opinions with Jenkins. “First, you are a great deal too fond of criticizing other people: secondly, when a man’s self-esteem has been injured he is too be commiserated with-not blamed.” We will have to wait and read the following books to see whether Widmerpool actually follows through with his own new spoken beliefs.