The protagonist in The Trend by William Arkwright
(1914) is a young man of private means who is a composer. He has written a
cantata on the life of Giordano Bruno, the Renaissance hermeticist. He cannot
find the right singer for this: some are proficient enough, but lack soul and do not appreciate the work. Then
one evening, walking home from his club, he hears a voice singing an old folk
tune and hastens to find its source. It is a ragamuffin of 19 years old or so,
from an obscure background. The youth agrees to be coached as a singer and the
two go off together on a Derbyshire farm holiday.
The novel is in that rather overblown late-Victorian style
where sentiment is never far away. The singer doesn’t quite say ‘Cor blimey guv
you’re a gent and no mistake’, but that is the general effect of his everyday
diction. The author cannot, in short, get away from the popular taste of his
time. His interests and ideas, however, are much more unconventional. The
figure of Bruno has gained in historical recognition ever since Frances Yates’
magisterial work Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition (1964), but
at the time of Arkwright’s novel, some fifty years earlier, he would have been
more remote. The author’s choice of him as a subject suggests a deep interest
in the esoteric. This is also evident in his evocation of the uncanny power of
the music.
Though there are differences in detail, it seems possible the author or his publisher may have had in view the great success of Shaw's Pygmalion (1913) the year before, which has a similar gentleman-and-cockney pairing involved in mentor-and-learner roles. But, unlike the play, the novel is not at all blithe. After various vicissitudes, both in the relationship of the
composer and his protégé, and in the quest to stage the cantata, there is a
highly melodramatic, operatic and tragic ending.
And it would appear the main inspiration for the novel was more personal. There is a foreword to the novel, not part of the fiction:
it seems to be the author in his proper person. In this he tells us that the
story is true. But he clarifies this by explaining that the characters are true,
whereas the setting has been changed. He also tells us he was in love with one
of them, though he will not say which. The implication might be that the
originals were either involved in a different sort of music, or perhaps a different
art, such as painting, poetry, theatre.
William Arkwright (1857-1925) was the author of a book of
essays, Knowledge and Life (1913); a prose fantasy, Utinam:
A Glimmering of Goddesses (1917), notable for its illustrations by Glyn
Philpot; and of His Own Soul (1920), aphorisms in verse and prose. Rather oddly compared to these, he was also the author of a classic work on
the Pointer breed of dogs.
He was the heir of the fortune of Richard Arkwright,
the inventor and cotton industrialist, as a cousin of the last of the direct
line. The family owned a palatial Georgian residence, Sutton Scarsdale Hall, near Chesterfield, Derbyshire, which
he sold in 1919, and for a long time it stood as an empty ruinous roofless
shell, until purchased in 1946, for preservation as it stood, by Osbert Sitwell,
who lived 8 miles away at Renishaw Hall. Sutton Scarsdale is now in public
ownership.
The Trend (not a very good title) is a strange and
stormy book with startling ideas that doesn’t quite outstrip its creaky
vocabulary and clanking plot. But it has a certain volatile power and
Dickensian vigour, and is of particular interest because of the Giordano Bruno
theme and its esoteric dimensions.
(Mark Valentine)
Portrait: William Arkwright, c.1890. Picture: Sutton Scarsdale Hall.
