The Jolly Corner

“He had lived his life with his back so turned to such concerns and his face addressed to those of so different an order that he scarce knew what to make of this lively stir, in a compartment of his mind never yet penetrated, of a capacity for business and a sense for construction.”

Brydon has not had to work because of his generational wealth, nor has he even needed to oversee the management of his property. When he involves himself in the latter, it awakens The Fear of Missed Opportunity in the form of thoughts of whom he might have been had he remained in the US. Notably, Henry James’s metaphor for this change of attitude is spatial; the idea that Brydon is uncovering a new “compartment” within himself links his journey of self-discovery to the house itself, foreshadowing his later explorations.

“Above all, to memories and histories into which he could enter, she was as exquisite for him as some pale pressed flower (a rarity to begin with), and, failing other sweetnesses, she was a sufficient reward of his effort.”

This explains how Brydon perceives Alice Staverton. She is precious to him because she is a pretty memory who has not changed over time. He associates her with the less built-up city of his youth, but he also takes comfort in her apparent steadiness precisely because he is less sure of his own identity; the idea that Alice could only ever have been who she is assuages his anxieties about the course his own life has taken.

“If he had but stayed at home he would have discovered his genius in time really to start some new variety of awful architectural hare and run it till it burrowed in a gold mine.”

Based on his recent experience developing his property, Brydon is convinced that if he had remained in the US, he would have succeeded wildly in business. This marks the beginning of his obsession with his alter ego, but it also hints that he and his shadow self are not so different, as Brydon’s confidence in his talents, based on very little evidence, is egotistical.

“In short you’re to make so good a thing of your sky-scraper that, living in luxury on those ill-gotten gains, you can afford for a while to be sentimental here!”

Alice responds to Brydon’s explanation of why he is not trying to profit from the jolly corner with light sarcasm; where Brydon attributed his preservation of the house to considerations beyond material wealth, Alice suggests that the money he is making on his other property underwrites his “sentimental” attitude toward the jolly corner. The effect is again to underscore the similarities between Brydon and his alter ego.

“There are no reasons here but of dollars. Let us therefore have none whatever—not the ghost of one.”

This highlights Brydon’s view of New York as entirely mercenary. He distinguishes his interest in the jolly corner from the greed that animates the rest of the city, but to do so, he avoids the subject of “reasons” entirely; this suggests that he avoids scrutinizing his motivations too closely for fear of finding that they too are mercenary. His reference to the “ghost” of a reason foreshadows his alter ego and links that alter ego to the monetary concerns that permeate the city’s desires and intentions.

“Only I can’t make out what, and the worry of it, the small rage of curiosity never to be satisfied, brings back what I remember to have felt, once or twice, after judging best, for reasons, to burn some important letter unopened.”

Brydon has an intense curiosity that he will never be able to satisfy, as it relates to what he would have become if he had taken another path in life. The analogy he uses to describe this feeling also foreshadows his rejection of his alter ego as a part of himself; despite his initial obsession with his alter ego, he ultimately chooses to leave that side of himself largely unexamined, just as he here describes burning letters unopened.

“It comes over me that I had then a strange alter ego deep down somewhere within me, as the full-blown flower is in the small tight bud, and that I just took the course, I just transferred him to the climate, that blighted him for once and for ever.”

This further cements the idea that Brydon is forever changed because he chose to go abroad rather than stay in New York, underscoring the effect of environment on character. The simile and diction suggest Brydon regrets the missed opportunity, as he likens Europe’s influence on him to a “blight” on a flower.

“The terms, the comparisons, the very practices of the chase positively came again into play; there were even moments when passages of his occasional experience as a sportsman, stirred memories, from his younger time, of moor and mountain and desert, revived for him—and to the increase of his keenness—by the tremendous force of analogy.”

This quote shows the jovial nature of Brydon’s explorations of the jolly corner; he treats it not as a serious effort to understand himself but rather as the kind of adventure a child would imagine. The “analogy” of hunting his alter ego also pleases him because it recalls his exploits as a young man and thus allows him to avoid acknowledging his advancing age or the ways in which his life’s course is set.

“With habit and repetition he gained to an extraordinary degree the power to penetrate the dusk of distances and the darkness of corners, to resolve back into their innocence the treacheries of uncertain light, the evil-looking forms taken in the gloom by mere shadows, by accidents of the air, by shifting effects of perspective […].”

Brydon imagines that he is “haunting” his alter ego. Likewise, he feels himself able to control his surroundings, dispelling any darkness that might provoke fear as he climbs through the house. His need to exert his will over the situation suggests his unconscious anxiety about both who he is and what he has done with his life.

“If you won’t then—good: I spare you and I give up. You affect me as by the appeal positively for pity: you convince me that for reasons rigid and sublime—what do I know?—we both of us should have suffered.”

Confronted with the shut door—a symbol of his own unwillingness to face himself—Brydon declares that he is content for he and his alter ego to live out separate existences. He frames this as an act of magnanimity, but the story strongly implies it is one of cowardice.

“Such an identity fitted his at no point, made its alternative monstrous. A thousand times yes, as it came upon him nearer now, the face was the face of a stranger.”

Although Brydon is looking at another version of himself, he is so disturbed by the image that he rejects his alter ego. The American side of him is so foreign, he tells himself, it might as well be a stranger. The alter ego’s foreignness also highlights Brydon’s alienation from himself, developing The Discontinuity of Identity.

“‘Yes—I can only have died. You brought me literally to life. Only,’ he wondered, his eyes rising to her, ‘only, in the name of all the benedictions, how?’”

Brydon speaks this line to Alice. He credits her with resurrecting him after his frightening experience, which suggests growing affection for her. However, the image of Brydon as dying and returning to life is ironic. He does not seem to have changed in any substantial way, having firmly rejected the idea that his alter ego is part of him. In this context, his gratitude toward Alice seems rooted in his belief that she has restored him not merely to life but to what he takes to be “himself”—i.e., in her facilitation of his denial.

“‘And haven’t I been unhappy? Am not I—you’ve only to look at me!—ravaged?’

‘Ah I don’t say I like him better,’ she granted after a thought. ‘But he’s grim, he’s worn—and things have happened to him. He doesn’t make shift, for sight, with your charming monocle.’”

When Alice expresses pity for the ghost, Brydon immediately becomes jealous and points out that he has also suffered. Alice placates Brydon by implying she likes him best, but his insistence on his own pain ironically underscores his similarity to his alter ego.