Book contents
- Frontmatter
- Contents
- Acknowledgements
- List of Abbreviations
- General Editors’ Preface
- General Chronology of James’s Life and Writings
- Introduction
- Textual Introduction
- Chronology of Composition and Production
- Bibliography
- The Jolly Corner and Other Tales 1903–1910
- Glossary of Foreign Words and Phrases
- Notes
- Textual Variants
- Emendations
- Appendices
V
Published online by Cambridge University Press: 11 April 2021
- Frontmatter
- Contents
- Acknowledgements
- List of Abbreviations
- General Editors’ Preface
- General Chronology of James’s Life and Writings
- Introduction
- Textual Introduction
- Chronology of Composition and Production
- Bibliography
- The Jolly Corner and Other Tales 1903–1910
- Glossary of Foreign Words and Phrases
- Notes
- Textual Variants
- Emendations
- Appendices
Summary
He kept it up through the summer, but with the queerest consciousness, at times, of the want of proportion between his secret rage and the spirit of those from whom the friction came. He said to himself—so sore as his sensibility had grown—that They were gregariously ferocious at the very time he was seeing Them as individually mild. He said to himself that They were mild only because he was—he flattered himself that he was divinely so, considering what he might be; and that he should, as his wife had warned him, soon enough have news of it were he to deflect by a hair's breadth from the line traced for him. That was the collective fatuity—that it was capable of turning, on the instant, both to a general and to a particular resentment. Since the least breath of discrimination would get him the sack without mercy, it was absurd, he reflected, to speak of his discomfort as light. He was gagged, he was goaded, as in omnivorous companies he doubtless sometimes showed by a strange silent glare. They would get him the sack for that as well, if he didn't look out; therefore wasn't it in effect ferocity when you mightn't even hold your tongue? They wouldn't let you off with silence—They insisted on your committing yourself. It was the pound of flesh—They would have it; so under his coat he bled. But a wondrous peace, by exception, dropped on him one afternoon at the end of August. The pressure had, as usual, been high, but it had diminished with the fall of day, and the place was empty before the hour for closing. Then it was that, within a few minutes of this hour, there presented themselves a pair of pilgrims to whom in the ordinary course he would have remarked that they were, to his regret, too late. He was to wonder afterwards why the course had, at sight of the visitors—a gentleman and a lady, appealing and fairly young—shown for him as other than ordinary; the consequence sprang doubtless from something rather fine and unnameable, something, for instance, in the tone of the young man, or in the light of his eye, after hearing the statement on the subject of the hour. “Yes, we know it's late; but it's just, I’m afraid, because of that.
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- The Jolly Corner and Other Tales, 1903–1910 , pp. 27 - 34Publisher: Cambridge University PressPrint publication year: 2017