情与欲 》 兒子與情人 Sons and Lovers 》
第一章 新婚歲月-1 CHAPTER I THE EARLY MARRIED LIFE OF THE MORELS Page 1
勞倫斯 David Herbert Lawrence
CHAPTER I THE EARLY MARRIED LIFE OF THE MORELS Page 1
《兒子與情人》是性愛小說之父勞倫斯的第一部長篇小說。小說風靡世界文壇90年，魅力至今不減。1961年美國俄剋拉荷馬發起了禁書運動，在租用的一輛被稱之為“淫穢書籍曝光車”所展示的不宜閱讀的書籍中，《兒子與情人》被列在首當其衝的位置。
《兒子與情人》視角獨特，對人性中隱秘的“戀母情結”有深刻、形象的挖掘。一般認為，小說中的兒子保羅就是勞倫斯的化身，而莫雷爾太太就是勞倫斯的母親莉蒂婭，保羅的女友米麗安就是勞倫斯的初戀情人傑茜。
《兒子與情人》的主綫之一是以勞倫斯和傑茜的私情為藍本，而勞倫斯母親那強烈變態的母愛足以扼殺勞倫斯任何正常的愛情。勞倫斯曾對自己的情人說：“你知道我一直愛我的母親。我像情人一樣愛她，所以我總也無法愛你。”這些折磨人的日子在《兒子與情人》中有很詳盡的描述。
《兒子與情人》-小說背景
小說背景是勞倫斯的出生地——諾丁漢郡礦區。父親莫瑞爾是礦工，由於長年沉重的勞動和煤井事故使他變得脾氣暴躁，母親出身
於中産家庭，有一定教養。結婚後，夫婦不和，母親開始厭棄丈夫，把全部感情和希望傾註在孩子身上，由此産生畸形的母愛。長子威廉為倫敦律師當文書，但為了掙錢勞累致死。母親從此對小兒子保羅寄予厚望。小說前半部着重寫了保羅和其母親之間奧狄甫斯式的感情。後半部則着重寫了保羅和兩位情人剋拉拉和米裏艾姆之間兩種不同的愛。前者情欲愛，後者是柏拉圖式的精神之戀。保羅在母親陰影之下，無法選擇自己的生活道路。直到母親病故後，他纔擺脫了束縛，離別故土和情人，真正成人。
勞倫斯通過現實主義和心理分析的寫作方法，描寫了十九世紀末葉英國工業社會中下層人民的生活和特定環境下母子間和兩性間的復雜、變態的心理。他強調人的原始本能，把理智作為壓抑天性的因素加以摒棄，主張充分發揮人的本能。小說中，勞倫斯還對英國生活中工業化物質文明和商業精神進行了批判。
《兒子與情人》-內容介紹
《兒子與情人》小說主人公保羅的父母莫瑞爾夫婦。他們兩人是在一次舞會上結識的，可以說是一見鐘情，婚後也過了一段甜蜜、幸福的日子。但是，兩人由於出身不同，性格不合，精神追求迥異，在短暫的激情過後，之間便産生了無休止的唇槍舌劍，丈夫甚至動起手來，還把懷有身孕的妻子關在門外。
小說中的夫婦之間衹有肉體的結合，而沒有精神的溝通、靈魂的共鳴。父親是一位渾渾噩噩的煤礦工人，貪杯，粗俗，常常把傢裏的事和孩子們的前程置之度外。母親出身於中産階級，受過教育，對嫁給一個平凡的礦工耿耿於懷，直到對丈夫完全絶望。於是，她把時間、精力和全部精神希冀轉移、傾註到由於肉體結合而降生於人世間的大兒子威廉和二兒子保羅身上。
她竭力阻止兒子步父親的後塵，下井挖煤；她千方百計敦促他們跳出下層人的圈子，出人頭地，實現她在丈夫身上未能實現的精神追求。她的一言一行、一舉一動不但拉大了她和丈夫之間的距離，並最終使之成為不可逾越的鴻溝，而且影響了子女，使他們與母親結成牢固的統一戰綫，去共同對付那雖然肉體依舊光滑、健壯，而精神日漸衰敗、枯竭的父親。
母親和孩子們的統一戰綫給孤立無援的父親帶來了痛苦和災難，也沒有給莫瑞爾傢裏的任何其他一個人帶來好處。發生在父母身上那無休止的衝突，特別是無法和解的靈與肉的撞擊重演在母親和兒子的身上。相比之下，夫妻之間的不和對莫瑞爾太太來說並沒有帶來太大的精神上的折磨，因為她對丈夫失去了信心，而且本來就沒有抱多大的希望。
沒有讓母親揚眉吐氣的大兒子死後，二兒子保羅就逐漸成了母親惟一的精神港灣，也成了母親發泄無名之火和內心痛苦的一個渠道。她愛兒子，恨鐵不成鋼，一個勁兒地鼓勵、督促保羅成名成傢，躋身於上流社會，為母親爭光爭氣；她也想方設法從精神上控製兒子，使他不移情他人，特別是別的女人，以便滿足自己婚姻的缺憾。這種強烈的帶占有性質的愛使兒子感到窒息，迫使他一有機會就設法逃脫。而在短暫的逃離中，他又常常被母親那無形的精神枷鎖牽引着，痛苦得不能自已。
和女友米莉安的交往過程也是年輕的保羅經歷精神痛苦的過程。他們由於興趣相投，接觸日漸頻繁，産生了感情，成了一對應該說是十分相配的戀人。然而可悲的是，米莉安也過分追求精神滿足，非但缺乏激情，而且像保羅的母親一樣，企圖從精神上占有保羅，從靈魂上吞噬保羅。這使她與保羅的母親成了針鋒相對的“情敵”，命裏註定要敗在那占有欲更強，又可依賴血緣關係輕易占上風的老太太手下。
保羅身邊的另一個名叫剋拉拉的女人同樣是一個靈與肉相分離的畸形人。她生活在社會下層，與丈夫分居，一段時間內與保羅打得火熱。保羅從這位“蕩婦”身上得到肉體上的滿足。然而這種“狂歡式”的融合，是一種沒有生命力的、一瞬即逝的結合。由於從米莉安身上找不到安慰，保羅需要從心理上尋求自我平衡，需要從性上證明自己的男性能力。由於從丈夫身上得不到滿足，剋拉拉也需要展示自己的魅力，從肉體上尋求自我平衡。
做為母親，與兒子尤其是與二兒子保羅之間的情結，那種撕肝裂肺的靈魂上的爭鬥則給可憐的母親帶來了無法愈合的創傷，直到她鬱鬱寡歡，無可奈何，離開人世。
《兒子與情人》-人物分析
《兒子與情人》中，保羅母親對丈夫的失望、不滿和怨恨使莫瑞爾太太把自己的感情、愛憐和精神寄托轉嚮了兒子，或者說，莫瑞爾太太把自己經歷過的精神磨難和一心要解决的問題“折射”到了兒子的身上，於是一場靈與肉的衝撞又在母子之間展開。
母親的這種性變態使兒子心酸，惆悵，無所適從。有了母親，保羅就無法去愛別的女人。在母親幾乎是聲嘶力竭地哀嘆“我從來沒有過一個丈夫”、一個“真正”的丈夫時，保羅禁不住深情地撫摸起母親的頭髮，熱吻起母親的喉頸。這種“戀母情結”在很大程度上變成了一種“固戀”，使他失去了感情和理智的和諧，失去了“本我”和 “超自我”之間的平衡。因此，保羅的情感無法發展、升華，他的性心理性格無法完善、成熟，從而導致了他一生的痛苦和悲劇。
幼年時期的“戀母”情結，使保羅成了感情上和精神上的“癡呆兒”。他雖然愛戀着米莉安，但卻不能像一位正常的血肉之軀，理直氣壯地去愛她。這不但使自己陷入了睏境，也給米莉安造成了巨大的精神痛苦。保羅見不到米莉安的時候會感到悶得慌，可是一旦跟她在一起卻要爭爭吵吵，因為米莉安總是顯得“超凡脫俗”或非常地“精神化”，使保羅覺得像跟母親在一起那樣不自在。
保羅衹要跟別的女人在一起，靈魂就會被母親那無形的精神枷鎖控製着，感到左右為難，無法獲得自由。在他和米莉安儼然像一對夫婦在親戚傢生活的日子裏，保羅得到了米莉安的肉體，而在精神上，保羅仍然屬於自己的母親。米莉安衹是帶着濃厚的宗教成分，為了心愛的人做出了 “犧牲”。所以，在那段日子裏，他們也並沒有能夠享受青年男女之間本該享受到的愉悅。實際上，肉體間的苟合，衹是加速了他們之間愛情悲劇的進程。
在這一次次靈與肉的衝撞後，小說中的主要人物一個個傷痕纍纍，肉體和精神均遭受了巨大的摧殘。保羅的父親在傢裏、在親人面前永遠成為格格不入的“邊緣人”。保羅的母親在精神上從來沒有過一個“真正的丈夫”，衹能從兒子身上尋找情感的慰藉，而這種努力又常常被其他女人所挫敗，後來心理、生理衰竭，得了不治之癥，早早撒手人寰。米莉安雖然苦苦掙紮，忍辱負重，但並沒有得到保羅的心，保羅直到擺脫母親的精神羈絆，可以與她重歸於好，永結良緣時，最終還是狠下心來，拒絶了她的婚求，孑然一人，繼續做精神上的掙紮。
衹沉迷於肉體欲望的剋拉拉也很快結束了與保羅的風流，回到性格粗俗、暴烈、無所作為的丈夫身邊。可以說，在這些靈與肉的衝撞中，我們看到的是一個個沮喪、可悲的失敗者，找不到一個最終的贏傢。其實，在人們賴以繁衍生息的大自然被破壞，在人性被扭麯，在人類的和諧關係不斷被威脅的社會中，靈與肉的爭鬥本來就是殘酷無情的，到頭來誰也成不了贏傢，成不了一個完整的、有血有肉的人。
《兒子與情人》-作品影響
《兒子與情人》是勞倫斯在一次世界大戰之前最優秀的作品之一。戴維•赫伯特•勞倫斯是一位天才的作傢，他的作品洞察人類生命中最深層的領地—人的心理，生動描述人類諸如掙紮、痛苦、危機、歡娛等種種情感和感受。他致力於開啓人類心深處的“黑匣子”，穿透意識的表面，觸及隱藏的血的關聯“，從而揭示原型的自我。
在這部小說裏，他對女性的心理進行了大膽、透徹的探索，其小說中的女性也因此體現出更為強烈的審美情趣和藝術表現力，細膩準確地反映出勞倫斯的寫作主題。
戴維•赫伯特•勞倫斯用精神分析的方法對《兒子與情人》中的三種女性愛情心理模式進行描述，這三種模式將成為此論文的三部分。第一部分—精神模式,，此模式對本能的欲望進行抵製和輕視。《兒子與情人》中的米莉亞姆就是這個模式的典型代表。第二部分 ——肉欲模式，這種心理會放縱她們自己個人的本能的欲望而又忽視了靈魂的交流。這部小說中的剋拉拉就是一個典型的例子。第三部分——情節模式，這種模式對某個東西或某一種感情顯示出一種極端的態度。莫瑞爾太太就這樣的一個對家庭和兒子們有極端的占有欲的女人。
戴維•赫伯特•勞倫斯通過對《兒子與情人》中的三種女性愛情心理模式的分析，闡述其局限性，揭示健康自然的女性愛情心理，對於成就完整的生命及追求中女性的成功有重要作用。
第一章 新婚歲月-1
過去的“地獄街”被“河川區”取而代之，地獄街原是青山巷旁那條溪邊的一 片墻面凸凹不平的茅草屋，那裏住的是在兩個區以外小礦井裏工作的礦工們。小溪 從赤楊樹下流過，還沒有受到這些小礦井的污染。礦井的煤是使用毛驢吃力地拉着 吊車拉上地面的。鄉村裏到處都是這種礦井，有些礦井在查理二世時期就開始采掘 了。為數不多的幾個礦工和毛驢像螞蟻似的在地下打洞，在小麥地和草地上弄出奇 形怪狀的土堆，地面上塗成一塊塊的黑色。礦工們的茅屋成片成行到處都是，再加 上分佈在教區裏的零星的莊園和織襪工人的住房，這就形成了貝斯伍德村。
大約六十年前，這裏突然發生了變化。小礦井被金融傢的大煤礦所排擠。後來， 在諾丁漢郡和德貝郡都發現了煤礦和鐵礦，便出現了卡斯特——魏特公司。帕爾莫 斯勳爵在一片歡呼中，正式為本公司坐落在深塢森林公園旁邊的第一傢煤礦的開張 剪了彩。
大概就在這個時候，臭名昭著的地獄街被燒了個精光，連大堆的垃圾也化為灰 燼。
卡斯特——魏特公司吉星高照，從賽爾貝到納塔爾河𠔌開採出一個又一個的新 礦，不久這裏就有六個新礦。一條鐵路從納塔爾開始，穿越森林中高高的砂岩，經 過破落了的卡爾特會修道院、羅賓漢泉和斯賓尼公園，到達米恩頓礦，一個座落在 小麥田裏的大礦。鐵路從米恩頓穿過𠔌地到達本剋爾煤山，然後嚮北通往可以俯瞰 剋瑞斯和德貝郡群山的貝加利和賽爾貝。這六個礦就如六枚黑色的釘子鑲嵌在田野 上，由一條彎彎麯麯的細鏈子般的鐵路串成一串。
為了安置大批礦工，卡斯特——魏特公司蓋起了居民區，一個個大大的四合院 在貝斯伍德山腳下出現。後來，又在河川的地獄街上，建起了河川區。
河川區包括六幢礦區住宅，分成兩排，就像六點骨牌似的，每幢有十二間房子。 這兩排住宅坐落在貝斯伍德那陡峭的山坡腳下，從閣樓窗口望去，正對着通往賽貝 爾的那座平緩的山坡。
這些房子構造堅固、相當大方。靠近𠔌底的一排房子的背面種着櫻草和虎耳草， 上面一排房子的陽面種着美洲石竹，窗前的小門廳、閣樓上的天窗收拾得幹幹淨淨， 小水蠟籬笆修剪得整整齊齊。但是，這衹是外表，是礦工的傢眷們收拾幹淨不住人 的客廳的景象，臥室和廚房都在房屋的後面，對着另一排房子的背面能看到的衹是 一片雜亂的後院和垃圾堆。在兩排房屋中間，在兩行垃圾堆中間，有一條小巷是孩 子們玩耍，女人們聊天，男人們抽煙的場所。因此，在河川區，儘管那房子蓋得不 錯，看起來也很漂亮，可實際生活條件卻非常惡劣，因為人們生活不能沒有廚房， 但廚房面對的卻是塞滿垃圾的小巷。
莫瑞爾太太並不急着要搬到河川區，她從貝斯伍德搬到山下這間房子時，這間 房已經蓋了十二年了，而且開始逐漸敗落。然而她不得不搬下來。她住在上面一排 房子的最後一間，因此衹有一傢鄰居，屋子的一邊比鄰居多了一個長條形花園。住 在這頭上的一間，她仿佛比那些住在“中間”房子裏的女人多了一種貴族氣派，因 為她每星期得付五先令六便士房租，而其他卻付五先令。不過，這種超人一等的優 越感對莫瑞爾太太來說，安慰不大。
莫瑞爾太太三十一歲，結婚已經八年了。她身體玲瓏氣質柔弱，但舉止果斷。 然而她和河川區的女人們第一次接觸時，不由得有一點膽怯。她七月從山上搬下來， 大約九月就懷了第三個孩子。
她的丈夫是個礦工。他們搬到新屋纔三個星期就逢着每年一度的假日。她知道， 莫瑞爾肯定會盡情歡度這個假日的。集市開始那天是個星期一，他一大早就出了門。 兩個孩子，威廉，這個七歲的男孩，吃完早飯就立即溜出傢逛集市去了，撇下衹有 五歲的安妮哭鬧了一早晨，她也想跟着去。莫瑞爾太太在幹活，她還和鄰居不太熟， 不知道應該把小姑娘托付給誰，因此，衹好答應安妮吃了午飯帶她去集市。
威廉十二點半纔回傢，他是個非常好動的男孩，金色的頭髮，滿臉雀斑，帶幾 分丹麥人或挪威人的氣質。
“媽媽，我可以吃飯了嗎？”他戴着帽子衝進屋，喊道：“別人說，一點半集 市就開始了。”
“飯一做好你就可以吃了。”媽媽笑着回答。
“飯還沒好嗎？”他嚷道，一雙藍眼睛氣衝衝地瞪着她，“我就要錯過時間了。”
“誤不了。五分鐘就好，現在纔十二點半。”
“他們就要開始了。”這個孩子半哭半叫着。
“他們開場就要你的命啦，”母親說，“再說，現在纔十二點半，你還有整整 一個小時。”
小男孩急急忙忙擺好桌子，三個人立即坐下。他們正吃着果醬布了，突然這孩 子跳下椅子，愣愣地站在那兒，遠處傳來了旋轉木馬開動聲和喇叭聲，他橫眉冷眼 地瞪着母親。
“我早就告訴你了。”說着他奔嚮碗櫃，一把抓起帽子。
“拿着你的布丁——現在纔一點過五分，你弄錯了——你還沒拿你的兩便士錢 呢。”母親連聲喊着。
男孩極為失望地轉過身來，拿了兩便士錢一聲不吭地走了。
“我要去，我要去。”安妮邊說邊哭了起來。
“好，你去，你這個哭個不停的小傻瓜！”母親說。下午，莫瑞爾太太帶着女 兒，沿着高高的樹籬疲倦地爬上山坡。田裏的幹草都堆了起來，麥茬田裏牧放着牛 群，處處是溫暖平靜的氣氛。
莫瑞爾太太不喜歡趕集市。那裏有兩套木馬：一套靠蒸汽發動，一套由小馬拉 着轉。三架手風琴在演奏，夾雜着槍彈零星的射擊聲，賣椰子的小販刺耳地尖叫聲， 投擲木人遊戲的攤主的高聲吆喝，以及擺西洋鏡小攤的女人的招呼聲。莫瑞爾太太 看到自己的兒子站在西洋鏡攤外面出神地看着，那西洋鏡裏正演着有名的華萊士獅 子的畫面，這衹獅子曾經咬死一個黑人和兩個白人。她沒管他，自己去給安妮買了 一些奶油糖。沒多久，小男孩異常興奮地來到媽媽跟前。
“你從沒說過你要來——這兒是不是有很多好東西？——那衹獅子咬死了三個 人——我已經花光了我的兩便士——看！”
他從口袋裏掏出兩衹蛋形杯子，上面有粉紅色薔蔽圖案。
“我是從那個攤子上贏來的，他們在那兒打彈子遊戲。我打了兩回就得到了這 兩個杯子——半便士玩一回。看，杯子上有薔蔽花，我的這種。”
她知道他是為她選的。
“嘿！”她高興地說，“真漂亮。”
母親來逛集市，威廉喜出望外，他領着她四處遊蕩，東瞧西瞅。在看西洋景時， 她把圖片的內容像講故事一樣講給他聽，他聽得都入了迷，纏着她不肯離去。他滿 懷着一個小男孩對母親的自豪，一直意氣昂揚地跟在她身邊。她戴着小黑帽，披着 鬥篷，嚮她所認識的婦女微笑示意，沒有人比她更像一位貴婦人了。她終於纍了， 對兒子說：
“好了，你是現在就回去呢，還是再呆會兒？”
“你這就要走啊？”他滿臉不高興地說道。
“這就走，現在都四點了。”
“你回去要幹嘛呀？”他抱怨道。
“如果你不想回去，可以留下。”她說。
她帶着她的小女兒慢慢地走了，兒子站在那裏翹首看着她，既捨不得放母親回 去，又不願離開集市。當她穿過星月酒館門前的空地時聽到男人們的叫喊聲，聞到 啤酒味兒，心想她丈夫可能在酒館裏，於是加快腳步走了。
六點半，威廉回來了，疲憊不堪，臉色蒼白，多少還有幾分沮喪情緒。他心裏 感到一絲莫名其妙的痛苦，因為他沒陪母親一起回傢，她走了以後，他在集市上再 沒開心地玩過。
“我爸爸回傢了嗎？”他問。
“沒有。”母親回答。
“他在星月酒館幫忙呢，我從窗子上那個黑鐵皮洞裏看到的，池的袖子捲得高 高的。”
“嗯，”母親簡單的應了聲，“他沒錢，別人或多或少給他些錢，他就滿足了。”
天開始暗下來，莫瑞爾太太沒法做針綫活了，她站起身走到門口，到處彌漫着 歡快的節日氣氛，這種氣氛最終還是感染了她，她情不自禁地走到旁邊的花園裏。 女人們從集市上回來了，孩子們有的抱着一隻緑腿的白羊羔，有的抱着一隻木馬。 偶爾，也有男人走過，手裏拿滿了東西。有時，也有好丈夫和全家人一起悠閑地走 過，但通常是女人和孩子們走在一起。暮色更濃了，那些在傢圍着白圍裙的主婦們， 端着胳膊，站在小巷盡頭聊天。
莫瑞爾太太形單影衹，但她對此已經習慣了。她的兒子女兒都已在樓上睡了。 表面看來她的傢穩固可靠，可是，一想到將要出世的孩子，她便深感不快。這個世 界似乎是一個枯燥的地方，至少在威廉長大以前，她不會有別的期望。但是，對她 自己來說，衹能枯燥的忍耐下去——一直忍到孩子們長大。可是這麽多的孩子！她 養不起第三個孩子。她不想要這個孩子。當父親的在酒館裏眼務，自己醉醺醺的， 她看不起他，可又跟他聯繫在一起。她接受不了這個即將來臨的孩子，要不是為了 威廉和安妮，她早就厭倦了這種貧窮、醜惡的庸俗的生活。
她走到宅前的花園裏，覺得身子沉重得邁不開步，可在屋裏又沒法呆下去。天 氣悶得讓人喘不過氣來。想想未來，展望前程，她覺得自己像是給人活埋了。
宅前的花園是由水蠟樹圍起來的小塊方地。她站在那兒，盡力想把自己溶入花 香和即將逝去的美麗的暮色中。在園門對面，高高的樹籬下面，是上山的臺階。兩 旁是割過草的草坡沉浸在霞光中。天色變化迅速，霞光轉眼就在田野上消失，大地 和樹籬都沉浸在暮靄裏。夜幕降臨了，山頂亮起了一簇燈光，燈光處傳來散集的喧 嚷聲。
樹籬下那條黑暗的小路上，男人們跌跌撞撞地往傢走。有一個小夥子從山頭陡 坡上衝下來，“嘭”跌倒在石階上，莫瑞爾大大打了個寒噤。小夥子駡駡咧咧地爬 起來，樣子可憐兮兮的，好象石階是故意傷害他。
莫瑞爾太太折身回屋，心裏不知道這樣的生活能否有變化。但她現在已經認識 到這是不會改變的，她覺得她似乎離她的少女時代已經很遠很遠了，她簡直不敢相 信如今這個邁着沉重的步伐在河川區後園的女人，就是十年前在希爾尼斯大堤上腳 步輕快的那位少女。
“這兒和我有什麽關係呢？”她自言自語“這兒的一切都和我有何相幹呢？甚 至這個即將來世的孩子和我又有何瓜葛呢？反正，沒人來體貼我。”
有時，生活支配一個人，支配一個人的身軀，完成一個人的歷程，然而這不是 真正的生活，生活是任人自生自滅。
“我等待”莫瑞爾太太喃喃自語——“我等啊等，可我等待的東西永遠不會來。”
她收拾完去了廚房，點着了燈，添上火，找出第二天要洗的衣服先泡上，然後， 她坐下來做針綫活兒，一補就是好幾個小時，她的針在布料上有規律地閃着銀光。 偶爾，她嘆口氣放鬆一下自己，心裏一直盤算着，如何為孩子們節衣縮食。
丈夫回來時，已經十一點半了。他那絡腮鬍子上部紅光滿面，嚮她輕輕地點了 點頭，一副志得意滿的神氣。
“(嘔欠)，(嘔欠)，在等我，寶貝？我去幫安東尼幹活了，你知道他給了我多 少？一點也不多，衹有半剋朗錢……”
“他認為其餘的都算作你的啤酒錢啦。”她簡短地答道。
“我沒有——我沒有，你相信我吧，今天我衹喝了一點點，就一點兒。”他的 聲音溫和起來“看，我給你帶了一點白蘭地薑餅，還給孩子們帶了一個椰子。”他 把薑餅和一個毛茸茸的椰子放在桌子上，“嘿，這輩子你還從來沒有說過一聲‘謝 謝’呢，是麽？”
仿佛為了表示歉意的回報，她拿起椰子搖了搖，看看它是否有椰子汁。
“是好的，你放心好了，我是從比爾·霍金森那裏要來的。我說‘比爾，你吃 不了三個椰子吧？可以送一個給我的孩子吃？’‘行，沃爾特，’他說：‘你要哪 個就拿哪個吧。’我就拿了一個，還說了聲謝謝。我不想在他面前搖搖椰子看好不 好，不過他說，‘沃爾特，你最好看看這一個是不是好的。’所以，你看，我知道 這是一個好的。他是一個好人，比爾·霍金森真是一個好人。”
“一個人喝醉時，他什麽都捨得給，你們倆都喝醉了。”莫瑞爾太太說。
“嘿，你這個討厭的臭婆娘，我倒要問問誰喝醉了？”莫瑞爾說，他洋洋得意， 因為在星月酒館幫了一天忙，就不停地嗦叨着。
莫瑞爾太太纍極了，也聽煩了他的廢話，趁他封爐的時候，溜上床睡覺去了。
莫瑞爾太太出身於一個古老而體面的市民家庭，祖上曾與哈欽森上校共同作戰， 世世代代一直是公理會虔誠的教徒。有一年，諾丁漢很多花邊商破産的時候，她的 做花邊生意的祖父也破産了。她的父親，喬治·科珀德是個工程師——一個高大、 英俊、傲慢的人，他不但為自己的白皮膚、藍眼睛自豪，更以他的正直為榮。格特 魯德身材像母親一樣小，但她的高傲、倔強的性格卻來自科珀德傢族。
喬治·科珀德為自己的貧窮而發愁。他後來在希爾尼斯修船廠當工程師頭領。 莫瑞爾太太——格特魯德——是他的二女兒。她像母親，也最愛母親，但她繼承了 科珀德傢族的藍眼睛寬額頭。她的眼睛明亮有神。她記得小時候她恨父親對溫柔、 幽默、善良的母親的那種盛氣凌人的態度；她記得自己跑遍希爾尼斯大堤去找船、 她記得自己去修船廠時，男人們都親熱地拍着她誇奬她，因為她雖是一位嬌嫩的女 孩，但她個性鮮明；她還記得那個私立學校的一位年邁女教師，後來還給她當助手。 她現在還保留着約翰·費爾德送給她的《聖經》。十九歲時，她常和約翰·費爾德 一塊兒從教堂回傢。他是一個富有商人的兒子，在倫敦上過大學，當時正準備投身 於商業。
她甚至能回憶起那年九月一個星期天下午他倆坐在她父親住所後院的葡萄藤下 的每一個細節，陽光從葡萄葉的縫隙中射下來，在他倆身上投下美麗的圖案，有如 一條披肩。有些葉子完全黃了，就像一朵朵平展的金花。
“坐着別動，”他喊道，“看你的頭髮，我不知道如何形容，它像黃金和紫鋼 一樣閃閃發光，像燒熔的銅一樣紅，太陽一照有如一根根金絲，他們竟然說你的頭 發是褐色的，你母親還說是灰色的呢。”
她看着他閃光的眼睛，但她那平靜的表情卻沒有流露出內心的激動。
“可是你說你不喜歡做生意。”她纏着他問。
“我不喜歡，我恨做生意！”他激動地喊道。“你可能願意做一個牧師吧。” 她半懇求地說。
“當然，我喜歡做一個牧師，我認為自己能做一個第一流的傳教士。”
“那你為什麽不呢——為什麽不做牧師呢？”她的聲音充滿憤慨，“我要是一 個男子漢，沒有什麽可以阻止我。”她把頭擡得很高，他在她面前總是有些膽怯。
“但是我父親非常固執，他决定讓我去做生意，要知道他是說到做到的。”
“可是，你是一個男子漢嗎？”她叫了起來。
“是個男子漢算什麽。”說完後，他無可奈何地皺着眉。
如今她在河川區操持傢務，多少能體諒一點男子漢是怎麽回事，明白凡事不可 能樣樣順心。
二十歲的時候，他身體不佳，便離開了希爾尼斯。父親已經退休回到了諾丁漢。 約翰·費爾德因為父親已經破産，衹得去諾伍德當了老師。一去兩年，沓無音訊。
她便下决心去打聽一下，纔知道他和房東太太，一個四十多歲富有的寡婦結了 婚。
莫瑞爾太太還保存着約翰·費爾德的那本《聖經》。她現在已經不相信他會— —唉，她相當明白他會是什麽樣的。她為了自己纔保存着他的《聖經》。把對他的 想念藏在心裏，三十五年了，直到她離世的那天，她也沒提起過他。
二十三歲時，她在一次聖誕晚會上遇見了一個來自埃沃斯河𠔌的小夥子。莫瑞 爾當時二十七歲，體格強壯，身材挺拔，儀表堂堂，頭髮自然捲麯，烏黑發亮， 須濃密茂盛而且不加修飾，滿面紅光，嘴唇紅潤，又笑口常開，所以非常引人註目， 他的笑聲渾厚而響亮，與衆不同。格特魯德·科珀德盯着他，不知不覺入了迷。他 生氣勃勃，幽默詼諧，和什麽人都能愉快相處。她的父親也極富幽默感，但是有點 冷嘲熱諷。這個人不同：溫和、不咬文嚼字、熱心，近似嬉戲。
她本人剛好相反。她生性好奇，接受能力強，愛聽別人說話，而且善於引導別 人談話。她喜歡思索，聰明穎悟，尤其喜歡和一些受過教育的人討論有關宗教、哲 學、方面的問題。遺憾的是這樣的機會並不多，因此她總是讓人們談他們自己 的事，她也自得其樂。
她本人相當嬌小、柔弱，但天庭飽滿，褐色的捲發披肩，藍色的眼睛坦率、真 誠，像在探索什麽。她有雙科珀德傢人特有的美麗的手，她的衣服總是很淡雅，藏 青色的綢衣，配上一條奇特的扇貝形銀鏈，再別上一枚蠃旋狀的胸針，再簡潔不過。 她完美無暇，心地坦白，不乏赤子之心。
沃爾特·莫瑞爾在她面前仿佛骨頭都酥了。在這個礦工眼裏，她是神秘的化身， 是奇妙的組合，是一個地道的淑女。她跟他說話時，她那純正的南方口音的英語使 他聽着感到很刺激。她看着他那優美的舞姿，好象是天生的舞星，他跳起來樂此不 疲，他的祖父是個法國難民，娶了一個英國酒吧女郎——如果這也算是婚姻的話。 格特魯德·科珀德看着這個年輕人跳舞，他的動作有點炫耀的感覺，很有魅力。他 那紅光滿面、黑發技散的頭，仿佛是插在身上的一朵花，而且對每一位舞伴都一樣 的嘻笑顔顔。她覺得他太棒了，她還從來沒有碰到誰能比得上他。對她來說，父親 就是所有男人的典範，然而，喬治·科珀德，愛讀神學，衹和聖保羅有共同思想， 他英俊而高傲，對人冷嘲熱諷，熱情，但好支配他人，他漠視所有的感官享受—— 他和那些礦工大相徑庭。格特魯德本人很蔑視跳舞，她對這種娛樂沒有一點興趣， 甚至從沒學過鄉村舞蹈。她是一個清教徒，和她的父親一樣，思想清高而古板。因 此，礦工生命的情欲之火不斷溢出溫柔的情感，就象蠟燭的火焰似的從他體內汩汩 流出，不像她的那股火受她的思想和精神的禁銅，噴發不出來。所以她對他有種新 奇的感覺。
他走過來對她鞠了躬，一股暖流涌入她的身體，仿佛喝了仙酒。
“一定要和我跳一麯。”他親熱地說。她告訴過他，自己不會跳舞。“不很容 易，我很想看你跳舞。”她看着他恭敬的樣子笑了。她笑得很美，這使他不禁心旌 搖曳。
“不行，我不會跳舞。”她輕柔地說。她的聲音清脆得像鈴鐺一樣響亮。
他下意識地坐到了她的身旁，恭敬地欠着身子，他常憑直覺行事。
“但是你不應該放棄這支麯子。”她責怪着說。
“不，我不想跳那支——那不是我想跳的。”
“可剛纔你還請我跳呢。”
他聽了大笑起來。
“我從沒想到你還有這一手，你一下就把我繞的圈子拉直了。”
這自是她輕快地笑了。
“你看起來不像拉直的樣子。”她說。
“我像條豬尾巴，不由自主地蜷縮起來。”他爽朗地笑着。
“你是一個礦工！”她驚愕地喊道。
“對，我十歲就開始下井了。”
她又驚愕地看着他。
“十歲時！那一定很辛苦吧？”她問道。
“很快就習慣了：人像耗子一樣生活着，直到晚上纔溜出來看看動靜。”
“那眼睛也瞎了。”她皺了皺眉。
“像一隻地老鼠！”他笑道：“嗯，有些傢夥的確像地老鼠一樣到處轉。”他 閉上眼睛頭往前伸，模仿老鼠翹起鼻子到處聞，像在打探方向。“他們的確這麽做。” 他天真地堅持說。“你從來沒見過他們下井時的樣子？不過，什麽時候我帶你下去 一趟，讓你親眼看看。”
她看着他，非常吃驚。一種全新的生活展現在她面前。她瞭解到了礦工的生活， 成千成百的礦工在地下辛勤地幹活，直到晚上纔出來。在她眼裏他似乎高尚起來， 他每天的生活都在冒險，他卻依然歡天喜地。她帶着感動和尊敬的神情看着他。
“你不喜歡嗎？”他溫柔地問，“是的，那會弄髒你的。”
她從來沒與方音很重的人談過話。
來年的聖誕節他們結婚了，前三個月她幸福極了，她一直沉浸在這種幸福中有 半年時光。
Sons and Lovers is a 1913 novel by the English writer D. H. Lawrence.
Plot introduction and history
The third published novel of D. H. Lawrence, taken by many to be his earliest masterpiece, tells the story of Paul Morel, a young man and budding artist. Richard Aldington explains the semi-autobiographical nature of this masterpiece:
When you have experienced Sons and Lovers you have lived through the agonies of the young Lawrence striving to win free from his old life. Generally, it is not only considered as an evocative portrayal of working-class life in a mining community, but also an intense study of family, class and early sexual relationships.[citation needed]
The original 1913 edition was heavily edited by Edward Garnett who removed 80 passages, roughly a tenth of the text. The novel is dedicated to Garnett. Garnett, as the literary advisor to the publishing firm Duckworth, was an important figure in leading Lawrence further into the London literary world during the years 1911 and 1912. It was not until the 1992 Cambridge University Press edition was released that the missing text was restored.
Lawrence began working on the novel in the period of his mother's illness, and often expresses this sense of his mother's wasted life through his female protagonist Gertrude Morel. Letters written around the time of its development clearly demonstrate the admiration he felt for his mother - viewing her as a 'clever, ironical, delicately moulded woman' - and her apparently unfortunate marriage to his coal mining father, a man of 'sanguine temperament' and instability. He believed that his mother had married below her class status. Rather interestingly, Lydia Lawrence wasn't born into the middle-class. This personal family conflict experienced by Lawrence provided him with the impetus for the first half of his novel - in which both William, the older brother, and Paul Morel become increasingly contemptuous of their father - and the subsequent exploration of Paul Morel's antagonizing relationships with both his lovers, which are both invariably affected by his allegiance to his mother.
The first draft of Lawrence's novel is now lost and was never completed, which seems to be directly due to his mother's illness. He did not return to the novel for three months, at which point it was titled 'Paul Morel'. The penultimate draft of the novel coincided with a remarkable change in Lawrence's life, as his health was thrown into tumult and he resigned his teaching job in order to spend time in Germany. This plan was never followed, however, as he met and married the German minor aristocrat, Frieda Weekley. According to Frieda's account of their first meeting, she and Lawrence talked about Oedipus and the effects of early childhood on later life within twenty minutes of meeting.
The third draft of 'Paul Morel' was sent to the publishing house Heinemann, which was repulsively responded to by William Heinemann himself. His reaction captures the shock and newness of Lawrence's novel, 'the degradation of the mother [as explored in this novel], supposed to be of gentler birth, is almost inconceivable', and encouraged Lawrence to redraft the novel one more time. In addition to altering the title to a more thematic 'Sons and Lovers', Heinemann's response had reinvigorated Lawrence into vehemently defending his novel and its themes as a coherent work of art. In order to justify its form Lawrence explains, in letters to Garnett, that it is a 'great tragedy' and a 'great book', one that mirrors the 'tragedy of thousands of young men in England'.
Explanation of the novel's title
Lawrence rewrote the work four times until he was happy with it. Although before publication the work was usually called Paul Morel, Lawrence finally settled on Sons and Lovers. Just as the new title makes the work less focused on a central character, many of the later additions broadened the scope of the work, thereby making the work less autobiographical. While some of the edits by Garnett were on the grounds of propriety or style, others would once more narrow the emphasis back upon Paul.
Plot summary
Part I:
The refined daughter of a "good old burgher family," Gertrude Coppard meets a rough-hewn miner at a Christmas dance and falls into a whirlwind romance. But soon after her marriage to Walter Morel, she realizes the difficulties of living off his meagre salary in a rented house. The couple fight and drift apart and Walter retreats to the pub after work each day. Gradually, Mrs. Morel's affections shift to her sons beginning with the oldest, William.
As a boy, William is so attached to his mother that he doesn't enjoy the fair without her. As he grows older, he defends her against his father's occasional violence. Eventually, he leaves their Nottinghamshire home for a job in London, where he begins to rise up into the middle class. He is engaged, but he detests the girl's superficiality. He dies and Mrs. Morel is heartbroken, but when Paul catches pneumonia she rediscovers her love for her second son.
Part II:
Both repulsed by and drawn to his mother, Paul is afraid to leave her but wants to go out on his own, and needs to experience love. Gradually, he falls into a relationship with Miriam, a farm girl who attends his church. The two take long walks and have intellectual conversations about books but Paul resists, in part because his mother looks down on her. At work, Paul meets Clara Dawes who has separated from her husband, Baxter.
Paul leaves Miriam behind as he grows more intimate with Clara, but even she cannot hold him and he returns to his mother. When his mother dies soon after, he is alone.
Lawrence summarized the plot in a letter to Edward Garnett on 12 November 1912:
It follows this idea: a woman of character and refinement goes into the lower class, and has no satisfaction in her own life. She has had a passion for her husband, so her children are born of passion, and have heaps of vitality. But as her sons grow up she selects them as lovers — first the eldest, then the second. These sons are urged into life by their reciprocal love of their mother — urged on and on. But when they come to manhood, they can't love, because their mother is the strongest power in their lives, and holds them. It's rather like Goethe and his mother and Frau von Stein and Christiana — As soon as the young men come into contact with women, there's a split. William gives his sex to a fribble, and his mother holds his soul. But the split kills him, because he doesn't know where he is. The next son gets a woman who fights for his soul — fights his mother. The son loves his mother — all the sons hate and are jealous of the father. The battle goes on between the mother and the girl, with the son as object. The mother gradually proves stronger, because of the ties of blood. The son decides to leave his soul in his mother's hands, and, like his elder brother go for passion. He gets passion. Then the split begins to tell again. But, almost unconsciously, the mother realizes what is the matter, and begins to die. The son casts off his mistress, attends to his mother dying. He is left in the end naked of everything, with the drift towards death.
Literary significance & criticism
In 1999, the Modern Library ranked Sons and Lovers ninth on a list of the 100 best novels in English of the 20th century.
It contains a frequently quoted use of the English dialect word "nesh". The speech of several protagonists is represented in Lawrence's written interpretation of the Nottinghamshire dialect, which also features in several of his poems .
Film, TV or theatrical adaptations
Main article: Sons and Lovers (film)
Sons and Lovers has been adapted for the screen several times, including the Academy Award winning 1960 film, a 1981 BBC TV serial and another on ITV1 in 2003. The 2003 serial has been issued on DVD by Acorn Media UK.
Standard editions
* Sons and Lovers (1913), edited by Helen Baron and Carl Baron, Cambridge University Press, 1992, ISBN 0-521-24276-2
* Paul Morel (1911–12), edited by Helen Baron, Cambridge University Press, 2003, ISBN 0-521-56009-8, an early manuscript version of Sons and Lovers
CHAPTER I THE EARLY MARRIED LIFE OF THE MORELS Page 1
"THE BOTTOMS" succeeded to "Hell Row". Hell Row was a block of thatched, bulging cottages that stood by the brookside on Greenhill Lane. There lived the colliers who worked in the little gin-pits two fields away. The brook ran under the alder trees, scarcely soiled by these small mines, whose coal was drawn to the surface by donkeys that plodded wearily in a circle round a gin. And all over the countryside were these same pits, some of which had been worked in the time of Charles II, the few colliers and the donkeys burrowing down like ants into the earth, making queer mounds and little black places among the corn-fields and the meadows. And the cottages of these coal-miners, in blocks and pairs here and there, together with odd farms and homes of the stockingers, straying over the parish, formed the village of Bestwood.
Then, some sixty years ago, a sudden change took place. The gin-pits were elbowed aside by the large mines of the financiers. The coal and iron field of Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire was discovered. Carston, Waite and Co. appeared. Amid tremendous excitement, Lord Palmerston formally opened the company's first mine at Spinney Park, on the edge of Sherwood Forest.
About this time the notorious Hell Row, which through growing old had acquired an evil reputation, was burned down, and much dirt was cleansed away.
Carston, Waite & Co. found they had struck on a good thing, so, down the valleys of the brooks from Selby and Nuttall, new mines were sunk, until soon there were six pits working. From Nuttall, high up on the sandstone among the woods, the railway ran, past the ruined priory of the Carthusians and past Robin Hood's Well, down to Spinney Park, then on to Minton, a large mine among corn-fields; from Minton across the farmlands of the valleyside to Bunker's Hill, branching off there, and running north to Beggarlee and Selby, that looks over at Crich and the hills of Derbyshire: six mines like black studs on the countryside, linked by a loop of fine chain, the railway.
To accommodate the regiments of miners, Carston, Waite and Co. built the Squares, great quadrangles of dwellings on the hillside of Bestwood, and then, in the brook valley, on the site of Hell Row, they erected the Bottoms.
The Bottoms consisted of six blocks of miners' dwellings, two rows of three, like the dots on a blank-six domino, and twelve houses in a block. This double row of dwellings sat at the foot of the rather sharp slope from Bestwood, and looked out, from the attic windows at least, on the slow climb of the valley towards Selby.
The houses themselves were substantial and very decent. One could walk all round, seeing little front gardens with auriculas and saxifrage in the shadow of the bottom block, sweet-williams and pinks in the sunny top block; seeing neat front windows, little porches, little privet hedges, and dormer windows for the attics. But that was outside; that was the view on to the uninhabited parlours of all the colliers' wives. The dwelling-room, the kitchen, was at the back of the house, facing inward between the blocks, looking at a scrubby back garden, and then at the ash-pits. And between the rows, between the long lines of ash-pits, went the alley, where the children played and the women gossiped and the men smoked. So, the actual conditions of living in the Bottoms, that was so well built and that looked so nice, were quite unsavoury because people must live in the kitchen, and the kitchens opened on to that nasty alley of ash-pits.
Mrs. Morel was not anxious to move into the Bottoms, which was already twelve years old and on the downward path, when she descended to it from Bestwood. But it was the best she could do. Moreover, she had an end house in one of the top blocks, and thus had only one neighbour; on the other side an extra strip of garden. And, having an end house, she enjoyed a kind of aristocracy among the other women of the "between" houses, because her rent was five shillings and sixpence instead of five shillings a week. But this superiority in station was not much consolation to Mrs. Morel.
She was thirty-one years old, and had been married eight years. A rather small woman, of delicate mould but resolute bearing, she shrank a little from the first contact with the Bottoms women. She came down in the July, and in the September expected her third baby.
Her husband was a miner. They had only been in their new home three weeks when the wakes, or fair, began. Morel, she knew, was sure to make a holiday of it. He went off early on the Monday morning, the day of the fair. The two children were highly excited. William, a boy of seven, fled off immediately after breakfast, to prowl round the wakes ground, leaving Annie, who was only five, to whine all morning to go also. Mrs. Morel did her work. She scarcely knew her neighbours yet, and knew no one with whom to trust the little girl. So she promised to take her to the wakes after dinner.
William appeared at half-past twelve. He was a very active lad, fair-haired, freckled, with a touch of the Dane or Norwegian about him.
"Can I have my dinner, mother?" he cried, rushing in with his cap on. "'Cause it begins at half-past one, the man says so."
"You can have your dinner as soon as it's done," replied the mother.
"Isn't it done?" he cried, his blue eyes staring at her in indignation. "Then I'm goin' be-out it."
"You'll do nothing of the sort. It will be done in five minutes. It is only half-past twelve."
"They'll be beginnin'," the boy half cried, half shouted.
"You won't die if they do," said the mother. "Besides, it's only half-past twelve, so you've a full hour."
The lad began hastily to lay the table, and directly the three sat down. They were eating batter-pudding and jam, when the boy jumped off his chair and stood perfectly stiff. Some distance away could be heard the first small braying of a merry-go-round, and the tooting of a horn. His face quivered as he looked at his mother.
"I told you!" he said, running to the dresser for his cap.
"Take your pudding in your hand--and it's only five past one, so you were wrong--you haven't got your twopence," cried the mother in a breath.
The boy came back, bitterly disappointed, for his twopence, then went off without a word.
"I want to go, I want to go," said Annie, beginning to cry.
"Well, and you shall go, whining, wizzening little stick!" said the mother. And later in the afternoon she trudged up the hill under the tall hedge with her child. The hay was gathered from the fields, and cattle were turned on to the eddish. It was warm, peaceful.
Mrs. Morel did not like the wakes. There were two sets of horses, one going by steam, one pulled round by a pony; three organs were grinding, and there came odd cracks of pistol-shots, fearful screeching of the cocoanut man's rattle, shouts of the Aunt Sally man, screeches from the peep-show lady. The mother perceived her son gazing enraptured outside the Lion Wallace booth, at the pictures of this famous lion that had killed a negro and maimed for life two white men. She left him alone, and went to get Annie a spin of toffee. Presently the lad stood in front of her, wildly excited.
"You never said you was coming--isn't the' a lot of things?- that lion's killed three men-l've spent my tuppence-an' look here."
He pulled from his pocket two egg-cups, with pink moss-roses on them.
"I got these from that stall where y'ave ter get them marbles in them holes. An' I got these two in two goes-'aepenny a go-they've got moss-roses on, look here. I wanted these."
She knew he wanted them for her.
"H'm!" she said, pleased. "They ARE pretty!"
"Shall you carry 'em, 'cause I'm frightened o' breakin' 'em?"
He was tipful of excitement now she had come, led her about the ground, showed her everything. Then, at the peep-show, she explained the pictures, in a sort of story, to which he listened as if spellbound. He would not leave her. All the time he stuck close to her, bristling with a small boy's pride of her. For no other woman looked such a lady as she did, in her little black bonnet and her cloak. She smiled when she saw women she knew. When she was tired she said to her son:
"Well, are you coming now, or later?"
"Are you goin' a'ready?" he cried, his face full of reproach.
"Already? It is past four, I know."
"What are you goin' a'ready for?" he lamented.
"You needn't come if you don't want," she said.
And she went slowly away with her little girl, whilst her son stood watching her, cut to the heart to let her go, and yet unable to leave the wakes. As she crossed the open ground in front of the Moon and Stars she heard men shouting, and smelled the beer, and hurried a little, thinking her husband was probably in the bar.
At about half-past six her son came home, tired now, rather pale, and somewhat wretched. He was miserable, though he did not know it, because he had let her go alone. Since she had gone, he had not enjoyed his wakes.
"Has my dad been?" he asked.
"No," said the mother.
"He's helping to wait at the Moon and Stars. I seed him through that black tin stuff wi' holes in, on the window, wi' his sleeves rolled up."
"Ha!" exclaimed the mother shortly. "He's got no money. An' he'll be satisfied if he gets his 'lowance, whether they give him more or not."
When the light was fading, and Mrs. Morel could see no more to sew, she rose and went to the door. Everywhere was the sound of excitement, the restlessness of the holiday, that at last infected her. She went out into the side garden. Women were coming home from the wakes, the children hugging a white lamb with green legs, or a wooden horse. Occasionally a man lurched past, almost as full as he could carry. Sometimes a good husband came along with his family, peacefully. But usually the women and children were alone. The stay-at-home mothers stood gossiping at the corners of the alley, as the twilight sank, folding their arms under their white aprons.
Mrs. Morel was alone, but she was used to it. Her son and her little girl slept upstairs; so, it seemed, her home was there behind her, fixed and stable. But she felt wretched with the coming child. The world seemed a dreary place, where nothing else would happen for her--at least until William grew up. But for herself, nothing but this dreary endurance--till the children grew up. And the children! She could not afford to have this third. She did not want it. The father was serving beer in a public house, swilling himself drunk. She despised him, and was tied to him. This coming child was too much for her. If it were not for William and Annie, she was sick of it, the struggle with poverty and ugliness and meanness.
She went into the front garden, feeling too heavy to take herself out, yet unable to stay indoors. The heat suffocated her. And looking ahead, the prospect of her life made her feel as if she were buried alive.
The front garden was a small square with a privet hedge. There she stood, trying to soothe herself with the scent of flowers and the fading, beautiful evening. Opposite her small gate was the stile that led uphill, under the tall hedge between the burning glow of the cut pastures. The sky overhead throbbed and pulsed with light. The glow sank quickly off the field; the earth and the hedges smoked dusk. As it grew dark, a ruddy glare came out on the hilltop, and out of the glare the diminished commotion of the fair.
Sometimes, down the trough of darkness formed by the path under the hedges, men came lurching home. One young man lapsed into a run down the steep bit that ended the hill, and went with a crash into the stile. Mrs. Morel shuddered. He picked himself up, swearing viciously, rather pathetically, as if he thought the stile had wanted to hurt him.
She went indoors, wondering if things were never going to alter. She was beginning by now to realise that they would not. She seemed so far away from her girlhood, she wondered if it were the same person walking heavily up the back garden at the Bottoms as had run so lightly up the breakwater at Sheerness ten years before.
"What have I to do with it?" she said to herself. "What have I to do with all this? Even the child I am going to have! It doesn't seem as if I were taken into account."
Sometimes life takes hold of one, carries the body along, accomplishes one's history, and yet is not real, but leaves oneself as it were slurred over.
"I wait," Mrs. Morel said to herself--"I wait, and what I wait for can never come."
Then she straightened the kitchen, lit the lamp, mended the fire, looked out the washing for the next day, and put it to soak. After which she sat down to her sewing. Through the long hours her needle flashed regularly through the stuff. Occasionally she sighed, moving to relieve herself. And all the time she was thinking how to make the most of what she had, for the children's sakes.
At half-past eleven her husband came. His cheeks were very red and very shiny above his black moustache. His head nodded slightly. He was pleased with himself.
"Oh! Oh! waitin' for me, lass? I've bin 'elpin' Anthony, an' what's think he's gen me? Nowt b'r a lousy hae'f-crown, an' that's ivry penny---"
"He thinks you've made the rest up in beer," she said shortly.
"An' I 'aven't--that I 'aven't. You b'lieve me, I've 'ad very little this day, I have an' all." His voice went tender. "Here, an' I browt thee a bit o' brandysnap, an' a cocoanut for th' children." He laid the gingerbread and the cocoanut, a hairy object, on the table. "Nay, tha niver said thankyer for nowt i' thy life, did ter?"
As a compromise, she picked up the cocoanut and shook it, to see if it had any milk.
"It's a good 'un, you may back yer life o' that. I got it fra' Bill Hodgkisson. 'Bill,' I says, 'tha non wants them three nuts, does ter? Arena ter for gi'ein' me one for my bit of a lad an' wench?' 'I ham, Walter, my lad,' 'e says; 'ta'e which on 'em ter's a mind.' An' so I took one, an' thanked 'im. I didn't like ter shake it afore 'is eyes, but 'e says, 'Tha'd better ma'e sure it's a good un, Walt.' An' so, yer see, I knowed it was. He's a nice chap, is Bill Hodgkisson, e's a nice chap!"
"A man will part with anything so long as he's drunk, and you're drunk along with him," said Mrs. Morel.
"Eh, tha mucky little 'ussy, who's drunk, I sh'd like ter know?" said Morel. He was extraordinarily pleased with himself, because of his day's helping to wait in the Moon and Stars. He chattered on.
Mrs. Morel, very tired, and sick of his babble, went to bed as quickly as possible, while he raked the fire.
Mrs. Morel came of a good old burgher family, famous independents who had fought with Colonel Hutchinson, and who remained stout Congregationalists. Her grandfather had gone bankrupt in the lace-market at a time when so many lace-manufacturers were ruined in Nottingham. Her father, George Coppard, was an engineer--a large, handsome, haughty man, proud of his fair skin and blue eyes, but more proud still of his integrity. Gertrude resembled her mother in her small build. But her temper, proud and unyielding, she had from the Coppards.
George Coppard was bitterly galled by his own poverty. He became foreman of the engineers in the dockyard at Sheerness. Mrs. Morel--Gertrude--was the second daughter. She favoured her mother, loved her mother best of all; but she had the Coppards' clear, defiant blue eyes and their broad brow. She remembered to have hated her father's overbearing manner towards her gentle, humorous, kindly-souled mother. She remembered running over the breakwater at Sheerness and finding the boat. She remembered to have been petted and flattered by all the men when she had gone to the dockyard, for she was a delicate, rather proud child. She remembered the funny old mistress, whose assistant she had become, whom she had loved to help in the private school. And she still had the Bible that John Field had given her. She used to walk home from chapel with John Field when she was nineteen. He was the son of a well-to-do tradesman, had been to college in London, and was to devote himself to business.
She could always recall in detail a September Sunday afternoon, when they had sat under the vine at the back of her father's house. The sun came through the chinks of the vine-leaves and made beautiful patterns, like a lace scarf, falling on her and on him. Some of the leaves were clean yellow, like yellow flat flowers.
"Now sit still," he had cried. "Now your hair, I don't know what it IS like! It's as bright as copper and gold, as red as burnt copper, and it has gold threads where the sun shines on it. Fancy their saying it's brown. Your mother calls it mouse-colour."
She had met his brilliant eyes, but her clear face scarcely showed the elation which rose within her.
"But you say you don't like business," she pursued.
"I don't. I hate it!" he cried hotly.
"And you would like to go into the ministry," she half implored.
"I should. I should love it, if I thought I could make a first-rate preacher."
"Then why don't you--why DON'T you?" Her voice rang with defiance. "If I were a man, nothing would stop me."
She held her head erect. He was rather timid before her.
"But my father's so stiff-necked. He means to put me into the business, and I know he'll do it."
"But if you're a MAN?" she had cried.
"Being a man isn't everything," he replied, frowning with puzzled helplessness.
Now, as she moved about her work at the Bottoms, with some experience of what being a man meant, she knew that it was NOT everything.
At twenty, owing to her health, she had left Sheerness. Her father had retired home to Nottingham. John Field's father had been ruined; the son had gone as a teacher in Norwood. She did not hear of him until, two years later, she made determined inquiry. He had married his landlady, a woman of forty, a widow with property.
And still Mrs. Morel preserved John Field's Bible. She did not now believe him to be--- Well, she understood pretty well what he might or might not have been. So she preserved his Bible, and kept his memory intact in her heart, for her own sake. To her dying day, for thirty-five years, she did not speak of him.
When she was twenty-three years old, she met, at a Christmas party, a young man from the Erewash Valley. Morel was then twenty-seven years old. He was well set-up, erect, and very smart. He had wavy black hair that shone again, and a vigorous black beard that had never been shaved. His cheeks were ruddy, and his red, moist mouth was noticeable because he laughed so often and so heartily. He had that rare thing, a rich, ringing laugh. Gertrude Coppard had watched him, fascinated. He was so full of colour and animation, his voice ran so easily into comic grotesque, he was so ready and so pleasant with everybody. Her own father had a rich fund of humour, but it was satiric. This man's was different: soft, non-intellectual, warm, a kind of gambolling.
She herself was opposite. She had a curious, receptive mind which found much pleasure and amusement in listening to other folk. She was clever in leading folk to talk. She loved ideas, and was considered very intellectual. What she liked most of all was an argument on religion or philosophy or politics with some educated man. This she did not often enjoy. So she always had people tell her about themselves, finding her pleasure so.
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