A BRACE AND A HALF OF GAMEKEEPERS
©Helen Croom (1996)
CHAPTER THREE - Lady
Chatterley's Lover
"Only from the middle classes one gets ideas and from the common people - life itself, warmth. You feel their hates and loves."1
This novel, the third and authorised version, by virtue of the fact that Lawrence paid for its private publication, is the definitive book which caused such controversy, both on its initial publication and again, when Penguin published it thirty-two years later. Not recognised as Lawrence's best or most successful novel, it is nevertheless the one for which Lawrence is best known. It doubtless influenced many of the cruel obituaries which appeared on Lawrence's death, two years after the completion of the book, Lawrence's last full-length novel. Although he had, of course, been a controversial figure for most of his literary career and his exhibition of paintings seized by the police in 1929 added to his notoriety.
LCL was not published in an unexpurgated version in this country until 1960, thirty years after the author's death, and then only after an Old Bailey trial and acquittal under the Obscene Publications Act (1959). This trial received great media attention and 3,225,000 copies of the book were sold within eight months. The novel was tried on Lawrence's explicit descriptions of sex, his use of "good old Anglo- Saxon four-letter words"2 and, not least, on Lady Chatterley's morals.
The quote at the beginning of this chapter is from Lawrence's Sons and Lovers, and this assertion forms one of LCL's main messages. Thus, from the bodily crippled Clifford Chatterley come ideas: his literary 'pieces'; his long talks with his cronies; improvements for the profitability of his mines; Connie's conceiving of another (unspecified) man's child in order to give Wragby an heir and Connie something to do. Conversely, from Oliver Mellors, Clifford's gamekeeper, comes life: rejuvenation for Connie; tenderness of feeling; forthrightness. Although of the common people, Mellors is not, strictly speaking, 'a common man'; a grammar school boy, he has also been a lieutenant in the army, a position which has given him a certain self- assurance. He has, however, withdrawn from life. His world's perimeter is the edge of the Wragby forest and he bitterly resents the intrusion of his domain, be it by poachers, Connie (at first) or the sights and sounds of Tevershall village and the pits. Clifford Chatterley is portrayed with a potent mind to counteract the uselessness of his legs but, spiritually, he is impotent. He has no feelings at all, merely words for emotions. Hence he feels in the words of the great philosophers and if, as when he receives Connie's letter telling him she wants a divorce, he has no words to articulate a particular feeling, then he is unable to experience anything but a blank emptiness.
When Clifford suggests that Connie takes a lover in order to provide an heir for Wragby, and to ward off any future breakdown which may be brought on my the denial of her sexual impulses, he dismisses the unknown father's feelings completely, remarking that these "little acts and little connexions... pass like the mating of birds." (49) He believes that he and Connie are married in the sense of their habit of each other and this would be unaffected by a man to whom she went for sexual relief which he says could be arranged as one may "arrange going to the dentist." (50)
When Connie does in fact take a lover, a playwright named Michaelis who strives for nothing but the material trappings of success, she feels herself horrified at the thought of bearing his child. Their sexual encounters are not a success, they use each other for their own physical satisfaction but it doesn't bring them closer together. Lawrence felt strongly about this point, commenting in a letter to Bertrand Russell that:
"when a [modern] man takes a woman, he is merely repeating a known reaction upon himself, not seeking a new reaction, a discovery. And this is like self-abuse or masturbation."3
And this is demonstrated strongly in Mellors' character. After his wife left he had, and wanted, no woman. When he is apart from Connie he finds "it is so good to be chaste" and he wonders that men can "want wearisomely to philander" (342). His sexual relations with Connie have soothed and rested his soul, he does not need sexual relief, as Clifford suggests because for Mellors the sex act is only connected with desire, it is not merely a bodily function. In another letter, to Ottoline Morrell, Lawrence wrote:
"when [sex] is out of place as an activity there still should be the large and quiet space in the consciousness where it lives quiescent."4
In contrast to Clifford's coldly analytical mind Mellors, the gamekeeper, has tried to cut himself off from people and from language. When Connie weeps over the pheasant chick he instinctively uses his body in his attempt to heal her, no words of comfort are spoken and Lawrence uses the words "blind instinctive caress" and "the helplessly desirous hand" (130) to portray the spontaneity of Mellors' action. In fact, the gamekeeper had set his mind against this course of action, he didn't want to be brought back into contact with people.
The so-called 'purple passages', given so much attention at the Old Bailey trial, are indeed explicitly portrayed. However, Lawrence does this in such a way, with such obvious respect for his characters and the sacredness of sex, that it can be argued that if the reader finds the passages offensive then they have perhaps not grasped the intrinsic purpose of the passages. This purpose seems to be to put the sex act on the highest plane of sharing between two people - not one giving the other (or even each other) relief but each becoming a part of the other, as when Connie feels herself "all open to him and helpless... she held nothing." (196) Lawrence skilfully portrays the feelings of awe and reverence which Connie feels as her subconscious is awakened to her lover and her articulated thoughts about her experiences diminish. Mellors too, realises the impotence of words compared with the solace of touch: "so many words because I can't touch you. If I could sleep with my arms around you, the ink could stay in the bottle." (342)
Later in Mellors' and Connie's acquaintance Lawrence introduces the other controversial element of this version; the use of the 'four letter words'. These words are heard much more widely today than in Lawrence's time, but they are generally used in just the way Lawrence said he wished to them not to be used: as expletives, words of anger and contempt. Lawrence wished to purify these words by appropriate use, to enable people to discuss sex simply and without euphemism. (However, Lawrence was not above using the words in anger himself - Rhys Davies records his shock at hearing Lawrence, in a crowded restaurant, "use publicly to his wife the conjugal four- letter word."5) In the context of the novel these words generally seem quite natural as the language between two intimately connected people. They work well when combined with Mellors' use of dialect in his tender moments with Connie. However, it is open to serious question whether they serve Lawrence's purpose of 'purifying'. They do not seem to work at all in Mellors' final, very articulate, letter to Connie. In the letter he uses the words 'fuck' or 'fucking' no less than eight times in the space of three paragraphs and, arguably, the word becomes tedious, a little ridiculous, when it is no longer in the context of passionate speech. In some ways similar to when Connie cannot feel involved in their love-making and so the "butting... of his... haunches" (194) seems ridiculous.
However, despite his comments that he wished people to be able to discuss sex cleanly, Lawrence demonstrates that sex is beyond words. When Connie goes to the hut with Mellors after he has accused her of only wanting him to father her a child, she feels herself detached from the sex act; she holds herself back and sees it as a "ridiculous performance." (194) But afterwards she feels that she has denied something and yields herself to him and this is when they share each other and suddenly she experiences in terms of the senses rather than in articulated thought: he is beautiful; the feel of his flesh; the warmth of him; "the strange weight of the balls between his legs." (197) Finally, when they make love for the third time it is pure feeling which words cannot describe:
"she could not know what it was. She could not remember what it had been... she was utterly still... and he was still with her... and of this they would never speak." (198)
Thus, Lawrence has, in a matter of seven pages encapsulated his feelings about sex. The fact that to articulate the sex act, to analyse it, debases it and makes it dirty, whereas when two people share the sensual aspects of sex, words and thought become unnecessary - they are at peace. Connie takes a long time to realise this, she questions Mellors about his love for her, even though she feels her words are driving them apart, because the reliance on words is so deeply ingrained in her. And, likewise, Lawrence produces a long novel to demonstrate the impossibility of writing about sex.
Mellors has strong feelings about the materialism of the mechanized world. He believes that all human feeling is being killed off in the desperate rush for money. If people would be satisfied with the least amount they could possibly live on, be happy with each other, they would have time to live.
Clifford is the antithesis of this idea. At the beginning of the trip into the forest Clifford is proud that he rides "upon the achievements of the mind of man", and belongs to the "bossing classes". But on their way back to Wragby, when the engine is not powerful enough, he has to rely on the limited strength of man, Oliver Mellors who he has treated with contempt. His determination to boss the engine, leaves the spring flowers mutilated, the engine ruined and his pride shaken; though he refuses to show it. Conversely, Mellors, of "the servant class" comes out of the episode with dignity.
Mellors' sarcasm is sometimes amusing; his comment, "Surely you might ma'e a scandal out o' me an' my bitch Flossie. You've missed summat there," (304) when Clifford questions him about the Tevershall gossip is typical of the way in which he shows his inner disdain for people he has no time for. The conversation with Hilda at his cottage also runs in this vein.
Lawrence has been caustically criticised by certain feminists for his portrayal of women. Kate Millett in her essay, Sexual Politics, pours scorn on Lawrence's disdain for sexually dominant women. He is so obviously recommending mutual sex (in the sense of the quotation from the letter above about self-abuse) that it may be argued that he is requiring corresponding commitment from both parties. Has Connie had to "relinquish... self, ego, will, individuality"4 to Mellors by the end of the book? Mrs Bolton makes plain that in her marriage to the individual Ted, he was no Lord and Master; she tells Connie that theirs was a partnership involving give and take, sometimes he would give in to her when she was set on something and sometimes she gave in to him "else you break something." (266) Both Connie and Mellors are able to contemplate living alone by the end of the book. At the beginning, both are somnambulant; they only awake after their physical contact with each other. Not only do they wake, but they become whole: capable of individual existence. That Constance has made this possible for Mellors is shown clearly in his final letter to her. Connie sees herself as much more attractive since she has glimpsed her body through her lover's eyes and it is not true that LCL glorifies the man's body at the expense of the woman's.
Ms Millett goes on to say that: "Although the male is displayed and admired so often, there is, apart from the word cunt, no reference to or description of the female genitals."6 and the editor of the book, Peter Widdowson has added a footnote asserting the truth of this. However, during the thunder storm, Mellors says "'Look at Jane, in all her blossoms!...Pretty little Lady Jane'... and kissed her maidenhair." (258) Again, "he kissed her belly and her mound of Venus." (315) He tells her she has "'the nicest, nicest woman's arse as is.'" (251) "He laid his hand close and firm over her secret places, in a kind of close greeting." (252) Lawrence may not glorify the woman's body to the extent of the man's but it is possible to refute Mr Widdowson's remark that "Lawrence's silence as regards to female genitals is most remarkable, and evidence, I believe, of considerable inhibition and very probably of strongly negative feeling."7
Lawrence did not believe in equality of the sexes. He believed very strongly that the male must be the dominant partner in a relationship for the simple reason that women are intrinsically stronger than men; if they are allowed to dominate, the male goes under. This philosophy, however, does not debase the importance of being a woman: Mellors was not living before he came into contact with Connie any more than she was - they each live from their contact with the other.
The final point which must be raised is: was this book a commercial exercise?
Lawrence published it privately, at his own expense, when he knew he had but little time left to him; the money it brought in kept his widow, Frieda, quite comfortably until her death in 1956. The 'purple passages' undoubtedly sold the book - and are still doing so - so that it is tempting to conclude that was the reason for including them. It was also, in part, a reaction against James Joyce's Ulysses. However, Lawrence's outlook on life, his opinions on sex, his own background, must all be taken into account when looking at this question. If Lawrence wrote the story to make money (which of course was his primary reason for writing anything - he had no other income), he also wrote sincerely about something which he felt strongly about. Rhys Davies says 'But Lady Chatterley was really his beloved, and his bible, banner and trumpet.'