“The thought that some day—perhaps not ten years hence, perhaps not five—all this world would be taken away from him, before he had exhausted his powers of loving it, seemed to him in the nature of an injustice brooding over his horizon. If anything came after this life, it wouldn’t be what he wanted; not Robin Hill, and flowers and birds and pretty faces—too few, even now, of those about him!”
In 1906, John Galsworthy published Man of Property, the first novel in his acclaimed and oft-adapted The Forsyte Saga. It was met with the best sales and reviews of his career. (My reading of an excerpt from the book can be found here.) Despite its immediate success, Galsworthy was not quick to follow up The Man of Property. It took him 12 years to return to the Forsytes, a period he spent writing unrelated novels, putting on plays, and campaigning for various political causes.
By the time Galsworthy finally revisited his most iconic creations, the world had changed dramatically. The First World War had upended much of the social order that produced families like the Forsytes, and the new generation of writers that emerged in its wake was not kind to his tales of the old aristocracy. The Man of Property would soon be called feeble, bloodless, and fake, though great literature always weathers such criticisms.
Perhaps motivated by his advancing age—he was too old to serve in the army and felt that he was not contributing enough to the war effort—or perhaps by the suspicion that there would soon be little interest in a family like the Forsytes, Galsworthy returned to their story with both a rapid pace of work and a reflective mood.
“Indian Summer of a Forsyte,” the 1918 interlude that preceded two more novels in the saga by 1921, focuses on patriarch Old Jolyon’s recognition of aging and his anticipatory grief over losing the things he holds dear. Looking out over the expanse of his acreage, the old man observes that “the orthodoxy he had worn in the ’sixties, as he had worn side-whiskers out of sheer exuberance, had long dropped off, leaving him reverent before three things alone—beauty, upright conduct, and the sense of property; and the greatest of these now was beauty.” It is shortly after this that Old Jolyon comes across a surprise visitor who is the embodiment of Beauty itself, and the two revel in each other’s company, while we, the reader, become uniquely aware of the shared grievance these two have for the temporary nature of life’s most precious happinesses.
Galsworthy took note of such shifts in his own life, commenting on the departure from one set of priorities to another as an “endless duel fought within a man between the emotional and critical sides of his nature.” Was this Indian Summer interlude an opportunity to work this duel out on the page? Or was it, perhaps, Galsworthy’s attempt to soften the interpretation of his aristocratic position in the public eye by going in-depth on a character both representative and sympathetic?
The Forsytes may be departed from the world, but there is still much to appreciate in Galsworthy’s depiction of this struggle, which plays out in various forms for every successive generation.
Please enjoy…
Headline Image: Sunset at Scheveningen by Hendrik Willem Mesdag, 1894
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