................................................................................................
................................................................................................
Jocelyn, by John Galsworthy.
................................................................................................
................................................................................................
At the very outset it reminds one of Beware Of Pity, and one wonders if Stefan Zweig was influenced by Galsworthy, or were both acquainted with a couple in real life that moved them to write. But then again, there is an air of similarity with some other works of other authors, too. The very famous D. H. Lawrence work, Lady Chatterley's Lover, for example; or for that matter, Age Of Innocence, too, and there couldn't have been a common acquaintance there in the latter case.
And, a tad later, there's a whiff of similarity with a work by Balzac as well, before it turns to an almost indulgence of pain and guilt. Would that be a Russian influence? For, factually, there was no guilt involved, as such, except perhaps a lack of alacrity bordering on negligence.
This is a very early work of the author, and that shows in the vast difference between this and later works in terms of subtlety. Here one gets the theme almost immediately and then the only suspense is about consequences.
One of the surprises is the vague references to the circumstances of his marriage, which neither seem to admit had any love or attraction involved, and a complete lack of explanation as to how it came about.
................................................................................................
"When he left Oxford, he was in the position of a man with no decided leanings or dislikes in regard to a profession, with more than sufficient means, and with a nature which required the spur of necessity or of some vital interest to force it to exertion. He spent some years in travelling, generally with sport as an object; and then came his marriage. He had never been quite able afterwards to understand how it had come about; it had been a matter of friendship, of sentiment, of compassion; but there it had been for ten years an accomplished fact, bringing with it a life from which all purpose seemed to be barred.
"He had pursuits; for instance, he occasionally went over to Monte Carlo and gambled mildly, he made annual shooting trips to Algeria or Morocco, and he was continually yachting round the coast; but of work, nothing; of love — nothing!
"There had never been anything really in common between him and his wife. Certainly, he was always gentle and courteous to her, but there was in her a vein of spirituelle, expansive espièglerie, which was somehow beyond him; it did not hit with the grey and reserved temper of his mind, with his deeply-rooted indolence.
"A man of refinement, of no vulgar instincts, of certainly the greater logical reasoning power, he had yet always found himself un peu bête in her presence, just a little commonplace — it was irritating.
"He admitted to himself indeed, almost from the first, that his marriage had been a mistake, but he did not cease to have a great admiration for his wife’s personality, for her courage and patience under suffering, for her wide sympathies, and the wit and charm of her manner. He regarded her with the eye of a stranger as a very desirable and delightful woman; he knew her to be the wrong one for himself.
"He saw her side of the question also — it was a habit of his to see the other side — and he pitied her."
................................................................................................
" ... Irma had a free and unenvious admiration for the girl’s supple life and beauty; Jocelyn could not help being attracted by the elder woman’s wit, and she had a sincere compassion for her weary suffering. They had always a sense of pleasure in each other’s company, though, in spite of having lived for two months in the same hotel, they had not seen much of one another. The Legards’ villa was some five miles distant, but Mrs. Legard always wintered in Mentone to be near her doctor.
"Jocelyn bent down over the couch, and laid the saffron-centred roses against the breast of the white dress."
................................................................................................
................................................................................................
................................................
................................................
June 16, 2021 - June 20, 2021.
................................................
................................................
................................................................................................
................................................................................................
