D.H. Lawrence's Short Stories Thread

[Virgil]

Ok, I read the story last night, I can now participate. Though I don't quite understand the ending. I will have to re-read that. But I can jump in. Wow, lots of new participants. Nice to have you all join us. I was off most of the day yesterday, so let me catch up with all the gossipy new posts on lit net and then go back and read everyone's thoughts to date.

[Virgil]

wow, you guys got far, so let me just restrain my comments to that opening section.

There was thin, crisp snow on the ground, the sky was blue, the wind very
cold, the air clear. Farmers were just turning out the cows for an hour
or so in the midday, and the smell of cow-sheds was unendurable as I
entered Tible. I noticed the ash-twigs up in the sky were pale and
luminous, passing into the blue. And then I saw the peacocks. There they
were in the road before me, three of them, and tailless, brown, speckled
birds, with dark-blue necks and ragged crests. They stepped archly over
the filigree snow, and their bodies moved with slow motion, like small,
light, flat-bottomed boats. I admired them, they were curious. Then a
gust of wind caught them, heeled them over as if they were three frail
boats opening their feathers like ragged sails. They hopped and skipped
with discomfort, to get out of the draught of the wind. And then, in the
lee of the walls, they resumed their arch, wintry motion, light and
unballasted now their tails were gone, indifferent. They were indifferent
to my presence. I might have touched them. They turned off to the shelter
of an open shed.

I thought of your first impressions while reading this; note how beautifully poetic, painterly, and rhythmic Lawrence's prose is and how he sets the scene for the story, introducing the wintery peacocks, and comparing them to the color of the sky in winter (blue)....

Absolutely. I have said Lawrence is one of the finest prose writers in English in the 20th century and this is exquisite.

One thing not pointed out (or perhaps I missed it) is that the story is in first person. Lawrence does not write that many stories in first person, so let's keep that in mind.

Let us read with our five senses:

• slow motion, like small, light, flat-bottomed boats (author describes the smooth motions)

• They hopped and skipped with discomfort, to get out of the draught of the wind...(further note concerning the struggle that the peacocks were enduring, I believe is symbolic of the struggle for the recovery that Europe is beginning as the war is coming to a close and people are returning to their normal lives).

Hear it

• a gust of wind (listen to the sound of the wind)

Feel it

• the wind very cold, the air clear

• for an hour or so in the midday (why for such a short time…cold?)

Taste it

• The author gives no explicit reference to taste description

I like how you broke that down Bien. Two things stick out: (1) the harsh cold winter. Is England normally that cold with so much snow? That seems like an anomaly for English weather. Second, the peacocks are not your typical English bird. I think that's pointed out somewhere. So we are in a sort of dislocation to some degree, weird weather and non natural birds.

Please excuse me if I seem a little out of tune with you since I have never seriously participated in literature discussions.

welcome Jin. There's not much to this. I think you've got the hang of it.

Peacocks’ trouble seems to give us the preview of Alfred and Maggie’s skirmish. The gust of wind could be the fight between the couple. The narrator was “curious” to the peacocks as to the Goytes.

Peacocks are definitely symblic for something here. I think you're right they suggest something about the marriage, but perhaps more as well.

My favorite quote is “Her gloomy black eyes softened caressively to me for a moment, with that momentary humility which makes a man lord of the earth.” I should learn those eyes to get what I want.

Man being "lord of the earth" is a very important idea to Lawrence, and we already see the male/female relationship that Lawrence has in many of his works. How this "lord of the earth" concept applies to the Alfred/Maggie relationship is perhaps the key to the story.

I wonder if Alfred was jealous of Joey because he sought his wife's affection despite his infidelity or because the bird symbolizes her nostalgia for her "affectionate" home. What is with those "strapping and virile" men who can't be faithful to their wives? Does a war excuse those behaviors?

I think you hit on a key driver in the story, the war. Everything that happens, the injury to Alfred, his absence, the adultery, the relationship between Maggie and her peacocks are all as a result of the war.

I also believe the peacocks are personally symbolic to Lawrence himself since the winter he wrote this story he had just recovered from a severe bout with pneumonia, which he nearly died of; therefore, I am sure he would feel a great affinity to Joey and even to the other peacocks stuggling along in the snow and against the wind. If you go back and read my introduction and the notes you will see that Lawrence was forced to survive the winter with his wife in this remote part of England; the going back then had to be rough for him, considering his bad health. He longed at this point, to leave England and live in a warmer, sunnier, drier climate. I am not sure if you are aware, that Lawrence suffered all his life with bad lungs and died at the early age of 42 of TB. While he and his wife were living in Cornwall, he was forced also to go before the military medical board for several very humiliating physicals, to see if he was fit to serve. Then when finally driven out of Cornwall, because Lawrence and his German born wife were suspected of spying, he harbored much recentment, to say the least. Of course, the spy accusations were false. His poor health kept him from ever being drafted; but his humiliation and bitterness stayed with him till the end of his days. He wrote about these experiences in his next full length “Kangaroo”, after leaving England and residing for a time in Australia. So although the war in only briefly mentioned in this story I am sure you are right pointing out the subtext and the suggestion of the unrest in Europe at this time; that would have been very much on the author’s mind personally.

Janine, you are always fabulous with connecting Lawrence's work with his biography.

I have to quite disagree with you on most accounts here. I think that Joey is not in the way but rather that Joey is Maggie's only true and real companion, she needs the love of Joey becasue she has such a lout of a no-good husband. Without Joey, what joy at all could she find in her life?

That is somethig we will definitely have to discuss when we get to that section of the story. What exactly is Maggie's relationship with Joey? There is probably good evidence for both positions, which may be what Lawrence intended. I see your point and actually agree with it mostly.

In my world, there is no forgiveness when your husband has a bastard child with some french floozy. And I suppose you also would think it is preferctly justifiable for the husband to murder Joey? And that if he follows through with that plan his wife ought to just plaicidy forgive him for that?

This struck me too. I was somewhat shocked at how Maggie didn't explode over his infidelity. She does feel hurt, but more understanding than I would expect. My wife would have kicked me right out of the house. I do think her reaction to the events are important to understanding the story. So I think DM's point here is important.

I agree that there might have been some attraction between the narrator and Maggie, and personally I kind of wanted Maggie to hook up with the narrator to get back at her husband.

While perhaps so, I don't think this figures into the story. Unless someone thinks otherwise. We'll have to look for any suggestions on this.

[Dark Muse]

I sympathised very quickly with Maggie, although something stopped me from finding her likeable. Did anyone else feel this? I first felt this sympathy with Lawrence's words 'preposterously short skirt'. I did not feel as if the short skirt suggested any flirtation, more like it was inappropriate and awkward, as if Maggie was not capable of doing anything right. My sympathy was furthered with 'she ducked her head and laughed, with a slightly ugly grimace and rolling of her black eyes'. I felt that Maggie's character is making sure to laugh at herself before he can. DH Lawrence is setting the sympathy of the narrator for Maggie. His decision to soften the love letter is out of pity for Maggie (I disliked this about the narrator's character and yet, because of his indifference, I could also understand why he would do it).

However, I don't think that Maggie's character was questionable regarding her faithfulness to Alfred. If she is dislikeable, it is not due to any unfaithfulness, I think it is because she is awkward and unattractive and cannot 'keep a man', even a bad egg like Alfred. This may sound harsh but I have always liked Lawrence for his self honesty. Another thing against her is that the french floozy was able to bear Alfred a child where the closest thing resembling a child for Maggie's character is Joey. That is what Joey felt like to me - in place of a child for Maggie.

I have to say I rather liked Maggie, I was just hoping she would be stronger willed against her husband. I was really hoping she would really let him have it when he came home.

Perhaps Maggie is not completely innocent in all ways, but than such is irrelevant since the story does not offer any direct evidence against her, and the story rather is about the crime of the husband to the wife, which he had an accomplice to allow him to get away with it.

I still can't see why the narrator's choice to 'soften' the letter should be so irritating. I guess I don't see the benefit in people knowing everything. Journalist these days have this catch phrase that people have the 'right to know'. I ask, 'Do they?' There are many things that people DO need to know, but sometimes 'ignorance is bliss'. I was going to hold back to comment on this to later in the short story, but since it has come up by several others, I ask myself what positive outcome can there be by Maggie knowing of Alfred's unfaithfulness. I believe that she would have the right to divorce him (no doubt there, even in the strictest of religious interpretation), but considering the times and current economic situation of Europe is it prudent for Maggie to leave. No indication is given that she has the option to live in her parents care. A young girl would have many undesirable challenges on her own in the circumstances of this society. Finally, to live with the Goytes as the wife/daughter-in-law knowing that she is in an unfaithful marriage will not improve the relationship and living conditions.

The reason I find his softening the letter disagreeable is because he outright lied to Maggie in order to protect the husband, and thus justify the husband's actions. I felt it was just one guy looking out for the back of another guy at the expense of the victim.

And it was deplorable the way they were laughing at her behind her back in the end, and like patting each other on the back over how clever they were to put one over the woman.

If he did not want to reveal to her what was in the letter for whatever "Nobel" or ennoble reasons he may have felt or had, than he should have been man enough to out and out refuse to read the letter to her. But instead he directly lied to her, and in doing so covered up for what the husband had done. That is unforgivable. If he did not feel it was any of business than he should have stayed completely out of it.

Maggie should not have been liked to directly regardless if you think she had to right to know her husband was a womanizing scum back or not.

[Janine]

Wow, there is so many posts from last night and if I may I would like to comment on some, if not all of them.

I will tackle's Emmy's most excellent post first. Welcome back, Emmy, and glad you had a safe trip; also glad you were able to run through reading of the story twice. That is always a good idea. If I might break in and say something first to Virgil; (love your dancing banana!) I have read this story about 4 times now and in some ways the ending miffs me a little, too. However, I thought by discussing it here, we could eventually work through the story and come up with a satisfying thought on that ending; why Lawrence wrote it that way. It think this is why I keep reading the story and wondering about various things, not just the ending. Here is my response to Emmy's post:

Hey all, I'm back from Tasmania now where I had my own DH Lawrence experience. I read the Wintry Peacock once before I left and just reread it again then. I'm sorry to have missed out on the discussion so far and have just finished getting up to date on the thread.

I read your first line, Emmy, and I wondered if you had meet our Lawrence in Tasmania in memory or in ghost-form. He did write two stories and lived briefly in Australia. I am sure his spirit still haunts the place. You didn't miss that much so far. I have only posted the text up to the very beginning of the the conversation between the wife and the narrator of the story; I haven't even posted the part where he begins reading the letter. Some have jumped ahead and are talking about the ending, but in reality we are still discussing the beginning.

I have to say that there isn't a single DH Lawrence short story I dislike, although, like Dark Muse, I don't find any of the characters particularly likeable. I agree with Janine that the narrator sounds like it was based on Lawrence himself (trying to soften up a love letter sounds just like the irritating thing Paul in 'Sons and Lovers' would do!).

Same with me; I like all the stories but some do make me ponder more and some I am not sure I fully understand their intention. Just today I read another one which I found to be amusing. Others may not think so. Again a struggle ensues between husband and wife (a frequent subject for Lawrence, since he came from this sort of environment as a child, with two waring parents). If you go a few pages back you will see the actual introduction and therefore further realise that the narrator must be Lawrence himself. One can easliy pick him out of his books and stories, even if he does not assume the role of the narrator: Syson in "The White Peacock", Paul in "Sons and Lovers"; Birkin in "Women in Love."

I don't agree with the word 'irritating', because I don't see Paul as simply irritating, even though at times he may be. I see Paul, on the whole, as a very confused youth/man, as was Lawrence in that stage of his life.

I was a bit uncertain about the opening paragraph and what kind of symbolism the peacocks suggested. I like what Janine said about how at the end, Maggie and Alfred were as indifferent to the narrator as the peacocks in the beginning. That makes sense to me. I have to admit that I am a bit prejudiced against peacocks (I have a fear of birds).

I knew someone who had that same fear of birds. I was trying to recall who, then now it came to me. She could not even look at a ceramic bird and not quake. Does that fear have a name? Hope you did not see the Hitchcock film "The Birds". You would be freaking out.

Glad you can see the correlation between the birds 'indifference' and the couples 'indifference' later in the story. I feel that the narrator also is quite 'indifferent' at the end; but we should discuss that when we get to that part. Let's not rush too far ahead.

What I do like about DH Lawrence and his short stories is how he gets into the conflict of a situation almost immediately, true to short story form. The conflict here, as everyone is aware, is that the narrator has been confronted with the request to read a personal letter. The conflict arises because the person making the request, Maggie, has come across a personal letter to her husband, from a french speaking girl whom not only did her husband have an affair with but - from the letter - also a child with. The narrator is very quickly thrown into conflict and this is what interested me about the story.

This interests me also. I actually was thrown into a situation a few months back in which I was compelled to read a letter, which was not directed at me (long story, but it was valid to do so at the time). I sort of feel I know what it is like to read a letter with information, that one does not really wish to know of, but is confronted with. At first, the narrator found himself in a situtation perhaps not really wanting to read it, when he discovered it was a man's personal property and private. If you read this paragraph again, you will see what I mean. I will bold up the important lines or words.

I looked at her, and didn't quite realize. She looked too far into me, my wits were gone. She glanced round. Then she looked at me shrewdly. She drew a letter from her pocket, and handed it to me. It was addressed from France to Lance-Corporal Goyte, at Tible. I took out the letter and began to read it, as mere words. 'Mon cher Alfred'--it might have been a bit of a torn newspaper. So I followed the script: the trite phrases of a letter from a French-speaking girl to an English soldier. 'I think of you always, always. Do you think sometimes of me?' And then I vaguely realized that I was reading a man's private correspondence. And yet, how could one consider these trivial, facile French phrases private! Nothing more trite and vulgar in the world, than such a love-letter--no newspaper more obvious.

One sees that Lawrence is drawn into this slowly and then realises what he is reading; firstly, he feels it is "as trite as a newspaper"...I take it that means 'scandal' I can see how the narrator, when he begins to read it, becomes emersed and can't seem to turn back or back out; he told her he would read it; now what? He has walked smack dab into a 'private' situtation and so he does what comes to his mind first; he reads the letter misconstuing the actual facts. He could have been a bad translator, for all Maggie knew. I don't think he read the letter the way he did intentionally to hurt anymore or protect anyone. He did to it to divert Maggie from knowing the bitter truth; he did it to protect the husband's privacy. Afterall, the letter was addressed to the husband and not his wife. The narrator of the story was simply thrust into the middle of a husband'/wife struggle and confrontation.

I sympathised very quickly with Maggie, although something stopped me from finding her likeable. Did anyone else feel this? I first felt this sympathy with Lawrence's words 'preposterously short skirt'. I did not feel as if the short skirt suggested any flirtation, more like it was inappropriate and awkward, as if Maggie was not capable of doing anything right. My sympathy was furthered with 'she ducked her head and laughed, with a slightly ugly grimace and rolling of her black eyes'. I felt that Maggie's character is making sure to laugh at herself before he can. DH Lawrence is setting the sympathy of the narrator for Maggie. His decision to soften the love letter is out of pity for Maggie (I disliked this about the narrator's character and yet, because of his indifference, I could also understand why he would do it).

I don't feel I sympathised with anyone character in this story. I felt it was just a slice-of-life tale; some that could happen to any one of us in our walk of life and that Lawrence is merely recording it and giving the reader the option of interpreting it in his own way. I didn't have strong feeling for Maggie but perhaps when the husband arrives back home, then I do feel for her and know she is trapped in a bad situation. Later Virgil points out that back then she might have left but hardly would that be an advisable option. Women back then who left were penniless and usually ended up being protitudes in London. "The narrator is very quickly thrown into conflict" - very much so; how true. That is what I like about the story as well. The narrator is not just a narrator but a character now in the story because he has been thrown into the situtation quite by accident.

It is a good point, that Maggie does seem to laugh at herself or at the situtation before the narrator has the chance to. That just seems to be her personality. 'preposterously short skirt' - I think that could either way, the way you suggested it as ridiculous and the way Bien suggested as flirtious. I will have to ponder that word 'preposterously' for awhile.

However, I don't think that Maggie's character was questionable regarding her faithfulness to Alfred. If she is dislikeable, it is not due to any unfaithfulness, I think it is because she is awkward and unattractive and cannot 'keep a man', even a bad egg like Alfred. This may sound harsh but I have always liked Lawrence for his self honesty. Another thing against her is that the french floozy was able to bear Alfred a child where the closest thing resembling a child for Maggie's character is Joey. That is what Joey felt like to me - in place of a child for Maggie.

I bolded up the points you made and they are good ones to consider. I agree that Maggie sees the bird as a sort of child she can control. She can't control the husband. Also, the bird came with her from her childhood home; therefore, it would be linked to her own childhood days. Yes, Maggie is 'witch-like', not that pleasant in body language or looks. Many of the gestures that the narrator points out' are not attractive gestures or alluring; she may think they are' but actually they are rather odd and sly and not truly attractive. Only one mentioned, I think, is the one where she caused him to feel he was 'Lord of the earth'. I am not sure why she can't achieve that with her own husband. Maybe we should wait till we reach that part, and then look at the text more closely. Now I have confused even myself; but basically, I did not think that Maggie came across as attractive.

[Janine]

Welcome back!

I still can't see why the narrator's choice to 'soften' the letter should be so irritating. I guess I don't see the benefit in people knowing everything. Journalist these days have this catch phrase that people have the 'right to know'. I ask, 'Do they?' There are many things that people DO need to know, but sometimes 'ignorance is bliss'. I was going to hold back to comment on this to later in the short story, but since it has come up by several others, I ask myself what positive outcome can there be by Maggie knowing of Alfred's unfaithfulness. I believe that she would have the right to divorce him (no doubt there, even in the strictest of religious interpretation), but considering the times and current economic situation of Europe is it prudent for Maggie to leave. No indication is given that she has the option to live in her parents care. A young girl would have many undesirable challenges on her own in the circumstances of this society. Finally, to live with the Goytes as the wife/daughter-in-law knowing that she is in an unfaithful marriage will not improve the relationship and living conditions.
Just my thoughts...Alfred's still a quite undesirable jerk, but I'll save that for later (I don't want you to think that I sympathize with him, nor do I think that the narrator sympathizes with him...I don't even think his parents sympathize with him.)

Bien, I agree with you on the softening of the letter interpretation; also, what benefit would it have done Maggie in this time period (early 1900's), when she would only feel more trapped by her circumstances? I don't think women, like Maggie, had very many options, if any, to leave their husband and strike out on their own. Not in those days; what would she live on?

"No indication is given that she has the option to live in her parents care."

Right, nothing is stated about her past, except that the peacock came from the farm she was raised on; we don't know if her parents are dead or alive. For that matter what does the narrator know of Maggie or her past - nothing to speak of. She is quite a stranger to the man.

No doubt...the narrator is thrust into this conflict. He makes a quick choice to handle it...in hind sight, Did he do the best thing? I don't know!

I totally agree with this and stated it in my post above to Emmy. I think 'hind sight is wiser than fore sight,' as they say.

I can be very agreeable to this observation.

I still not sure which way to go on the length of the skirt but if I think like Lawrence he no doubt was pointing it out to be indecent. He was indeed a bit of a prude at times.

These are some excellent points. It is hard to get a good take on Maggie's attractiveness because the narrator doesn't show interest in her based on his 'prudeness' (made-up word)...but it gives no indication whether she would have been appealing...or UNappealing. I've personally known of women choosing an undesirable man as a mate, thinking that there is no possible way that 'HE would cheat on ME.' The concept of marrying 'beneath' oneself to ensure faithfulness (these are the words of one who has done this whom I know). The concept is a flawed concept, it does not work in most cases. But I'd have to agree with your observations...and they are observations that I had not considered before.

Bien, I think the word is 'prudish' - not sure I spelled that right though. I am an awful speller. Good points you bring out in this paragraph. Maybe Alfred married an unattractive woman for just that reason, feeling she would be a sure bet and she would stay put at home. He seems to want to be incharge, now that he has returned home. He is brutish to me and insolent and very unappealing. He must have show a quite different side to the Belgium girl. I am sure he was quite charming to her but he is churlish to his wife; he very much takes her staying with him for granted. He might feel some threatened if the letter were actually revealed to his wife; but now he is cocky knowing it has not been; not explicitly. To me the ending, which I hate to jump ahead on is not a case of the narrator laughing with the husband, nor siding with him; it is more a case of running from the scene and laughing at the whole affair and both the man and woman as being somewhat ridiculous. That is how I interpretted it on my first reading. I could well imagine the narrator going back home and relating the story to his own wife and the two getting a good laugh at it. I think when he laughs when the husband laughs it's simply a brief reaction. I don't think even then he is laughing with the husband; he is laughing at him.

But that is all I can give for now...I'm off here until later!!

Soon, I will be off here, too; it is 90F here today (85 upstairs inside) with only one window I can open, no AC installed yet; I am ready to keel over. I may have to shut down the computer, since it is causing more heat in the upstairs (attic) rooms. I had better plan on coming back later, to check on things.

[BienvenuJDC]

This struck me too. I was somewhat shocked at how Maggie didn't explode over his infidelity. She does feel hurt, but more understanding than I would expect. My wife would have kicked me right out of the house. I do think her reaction to the events are important to understanding the story.

But that is the very point, Maggie is not in the position to kick anyone out. She has nothing. She would have to leave and be on her own. That's why I don't think that the narrator is protecting Alfred, but if anyone, Maggie. Maggie will have to carry one in this marriage, or be on the streets by herself. I don't know how Maggie knowing the truth will help anyone.

[Virgil]

But that is the very point, Maggie is not in the position to kick anyone out. She has nothing. She would have to leave and be on her own. That's why I don't think that the narrator is protecting Alfred, but if anyone, Maggie. Maggie will have to carry one in this marriage, or be on the streets by herself. I don't know how Maggie knowing the truth will help anyone.

Well, that is true Bien, but she doesn't really get emotional over it. At least blow a fuse while he's not in the room.

[Janine]

But that is the very point, Maggie is not in the position to kick anyone out. She has nothing. She would have to leave and be on her own. That's why I don't think that the narrator is protecting Alfred, but if anyone, Maggie. Maggie will have to carry one in this marriage, or be on the streets by herself. I don't know how Maggie knowing the truth will help anyone.

I agree; and this is typical Lawrence to some extend; he is showing us a bad situation in which a woman is trapped in her economic circumstances and I believe his empathy is for the woman here, not for the man. Let's face it, the man is a cheat and a jerk; this point I agree, with Dark Muse. But, Maggie does not have the option to 'just take off' and 'go on her own'; infeasible that she would run away with the narrator; he is really not interested. I think when she is sitting downtrodden in the kitchen later on, she is showing us how sad and impossible her situtation is; my memory of that scene is a bit foggy, so will be better when we come to that actual part of the text. I don't see any evidence that the narrator is siding with the husband; I just don't read it that way. He is pointing out, as he did in other stories, that the woman is trapped by economical reasons. In "The Horse-Dealer's Daughter" much was the same - a young woman with no real options for her future, unless she were to become married. I've read other stories where the same theme is explored or presented; so to me it is not that unusual.

Should I post more of the text tomorrow; the actual reading of the letter?

[BienvenuJDC]

Well, that is true Bien, but she doesn't really get emotional over it. At least blow a fuse while he's not in the room.

Not that is seen in public...or at least in the presence of Alfred, his parents, and/or the narrator...maybe she's too private concerning her deep down emotions. She might have been crying her eyes out the rest of the time. Even the "strongest" of people are extremely emotional when no one is around...

[Janine]

Not that is seen in public...or at least in the presence of Alfred, his parents, and/or the narrator...maybe she's too private concerning her deep down emotions. She might have been crying her eyes out the rest of the time. Even the "strongest" of people are extremely emotional when no one is around...

Good point! We can hardly see 'all' in a short story' that spans a short amount of time in these characters' lives. Our impressions are limited.

One more quite profile response and I had better get off this hot computer; this hot discussion thread, too. I am delerious with this JN heat and humidity.

Edit at 10:52 - will post next section of the text tomorrow. Too hot for me here and I need to shut computer down for the night. Hope tomorrow is cooler than this. Too early to be this hot in April.

[jinjang]

Even the "strongest" of people are extremely emotional when no one is around...

You mean calm person in public can be extremely agitated? I can easily believe that.

As an owl, I just got here. How can any one on Sunday be awake or think clearly before noon, I wonder.

My impression is that the narrator is Lawrence, the author (himself), since he lived in this area during this time and Lawrence always wrote in a personal way and about what he knew of. It's possible this incident may have actually happened or a couple like this lived near by

Janine, you definitely know great deal about the author. It is highly likely that the narrator is married because of the paragraph: “In the night, however, we heard him thumping about.”

male wandering eye

he is past his 40s and experience has focused his eye. As the girl approached he was looking at the cattle and not at the girl's form.

I always let my French husband look at any pretty girl. Preoccupied men at any age do not seem to have the "male wondering eye." In France, flirtation is a complement to women and even an etiquette. Experience would not have to avert eyes. I know it is totally unrelated to the story set in England soon after South African War (1899-1902).

He doesn't give any evidence that he has any interest in the girl.

Are you sure? How about this line: "I thought of ... the black witch-like little Mrs. Goyte. And the snow seemed to lay me bare to influences I wanted to escape."

I have learned that what we often hate the most about others is the very thing that we are guilty of ourselves.

I have to disagree because I feel compassionate to those who are shy or eccentric as I am a bit of that. This cyber world may portray me differently.

Jinjang and I were just entertaining ourselves with a bit of a debate and everyone wants to jump on my case.

How true! Do you have different personae in reality and in cyber world? You do not have to answer this.

I will catch up with the others soon...

[Dark Muse]

Haha I am pretty much just as frank, opinionated and argumentative in person

[jinjang]

As far as her jumping to conclusions about the letter, I do not think she is completely unreasonable in the presumption even with him changing the facts. Who wouldn't think it odd that an unknown woman would write a letter to one's husband and seemingly know them so well.

I agree since any one can sense it clearly with a lot of Alfred's from Elise in the letter.

Whenever there is subtle imagery, there is interpretation; often this is personal. That is why all stories are not the same to all people. That is why we all see something different in it.

I have a feeling we will all walk away with different, even opposite, conclusions in the end. That seems to me the most attractive part of this discussion.

It is true, he said she looked 'witch-like'; but the mere fact, that Lawrence has repeated that phrase several times, throughout the story.

Maybe Lawrence could not figure out women, being curious and bewitched. Hence, he left us the reader to our own interpretations.

happy, frisky cattle, a little impudent(I can see cattle being happy, and maybe frisky, but impudent {meaning – lacking modesty})? I think that DHL is really implying this description to be for something/someone else)

I was wondering, too, whether he thought Maggie’s abrupt call impudent.

However, I don't think that Maggie's character was questionable regarding her faithfulness to Alfred. If she is dislikeable, it is not due to any unfaithfulness, I think it is because she is awkward and unattractive and cannot 'keep a man', even a bad egg like Alfred. This may sound harsh but I have always liked Lawrence for his self honesty. Another thing against her is that the french floozy was able to bear Alfred a child where the closest thing resembling a child for Maggie's character is Joey. That is what Joey felt like to me - in place of a child for Maggie.

Your posting was so refreshing like a cool breeze in a hot summer night. I agree with all of your points except the quote above. The war separated Maggie and Alfred. Do you not think that Maggie would have been able to keep her man as “witch-like” as her and, more so when she can make the narrator (likely astute author himself) impossible to figure her out? She sought of Alfred affection more than Joey’s as she could forget Joey as easily as she did the narrator. “Then, she forgot the bird in the cart-shed and turned to business again.”

[Janine]

All the posts were very good, I read all the new ones; good job commenting on all jinjang. I think I agree with everything so no need to add to this. We have gone into a lot of details and we are only into the story a short bit. I have to go to an important oppointment tonight so I will will be out awhile. I hope by the time I get back things have cooled off here. I think cooler weather is in the forcast.

I will now post the next part of the story so feel free to dive into it and discuss it among yourselves. I will read all the posts when I get back later tonight.

The Next Section of Text:

Therefore I read with a callous heart the effusions of the Belgian damsel. But then I gathered my attention. For the letter went on, 'Notre cher petit bébé--our dear little baby was born a week ago. Almost I died, knowing you were far away, and perhaps forgetting the fruit of our perfect love. But the child comforted me. He has the smiling eyes and virile air of his English father. I pray to the Mother of Jesus to send me the dear father of my child, that I may see him with my child in his arms, and that we may be united in holy family love. Ah, my Alfred, can I tell you how I miss you, how I weep for you. My thoughts are with you always, I think of nothing but you, I live for nothing but you and our dear baby. If you do not come back to me soon, I shall die, and our child will die. But no, you cannot come back to me. But I can come to you, come to England with our child. If you do not wish to present me to your good mother and father, you can meet me in some town, some city, for I shall be so frightened to be alone in England with my child, and no one to take care of us. Yet I must come to you, I must bring my child, my little Alfred to his father, the big, beautiful Alfred that I love so much. Oh, write and tell me where I shall come. I have some money, I am not a penniless creature. I have money for myself and my dear baby--'

I read to the end. It was signed: 'Your very happy and still more unhappy Élise.' I suppose I must have been smiling.
'I can see it makes you laugh,' said Mrs. Goyte, sardonically. I looked up at her.

'It's a love-letter, I know that,' she said. 'There's too many "Alfreds" in it.'

'One too many,' I said.

'Oh, yes--And what does she say--Eliza? We know her name's Eliza, that's another thing.' She grimaced a little, looking up at me with a mocking laugh.

'Where did you get this letter?' I said.

'Postman gave it me last week.'

'And is your husband at home?'

'I expect him home tonight. He's been wounded, you know, and we've been applying for him home. He was home about six weeks ago--he's been in Scotland since then. Oh, he was wounded in the leg. Yes, he's all right, a great strapping fellow. But he's lame, he limps a bit. He expects he'll get his discharge--but I don't think he will. We married? We've been married six years--and he joined up the first day of the war. Oh, he thought he'd like the life. He'd been through the South African War. No, he was sick of it, fed up. I'm living with his father and mother--I've no home of my own now. My people had a big farm--over a thousand acres--in Oxfordshire. Not like here--no. Oh, they're very good to me, his father and mother. Oh, yes, they couldn't be better. They think more of me than of their own daughters. But it's not like being in a place of your own, is it? You can't really do as you like. No, there's only me and his father and mother at home. Before the war? Oh, he was anything. He's had a good education--but he liked the farming better. Then he was a chauffeur. That's how he knew French. He was driving a gentleman in France for a long time--'

At this point the peacocks came round the corner on a puff of wind.

'Hello, Joey!' she called, and one of the birds came forward, on delicate legs. Its grey speckled back was very elegant, it rolled its full, dark-blue neck as it moved to her. She crouched down. 'Joey, dear,' she said, in an odd, saturnine caressive voice, 'you're bound to find me, aren't you?' She put her face forward, and the bird rolled his neck, almost touching her face with his beak, as if kissing her.

'He loves you,' I said. She twisted her face up at me with a laugh.

'Yes,' she said, 'he loves me, Joey does,'--then, to the bird--'and I love Joey, don't I. I do love Joey.' And she smoothed his feathers for a moment. Then she rose, saying: 'He's an affectionate bird.' I smiled at the roll of her 'bir-rrd'. 'Oh, yes, he is,' she protested. 'He came with me from my home seven years ago. Those others are his descendants--but they're not like Joey--are they, dee-urr?' Her voice rose at the end with a witch-like cry.

Then he reads her the letter outloud in his own 'altered' words:

Then she forgot the birds in the cart-shed and turned to business again.

'Won't you read that letter?' she said. 'Read it, so that I know what it says.'

'It's rather behind his back,' I said.

'Oh, never mind him,' she cried. 'He's been behind my back long enough--all these four years. If he never did no worse things behind my back than I do behind his, he wouldn't have cause to grumble. You read me what it says.'

Now I felt a distinct reluctance to do as she bid, and yet I began--'My dear Alfred.' 'I guessed that much,' she said. 'Eliza's dear Alfred.' She laughed. 'How do you say it in French? Eliza?'

I told her, and she repeated the name with great contempt--Élise.

'Go on,' she said. 'You're not reading.'

So I began--'I have been thinking of you sometimes--have you been thinking of me?'-- 'Of several others as well, beside her, I'll wager,' said Mrs. Goyte.

'Probably not,' said I, and continued. 'A dear little baby was born here a week ago. Ah, can I tell you my feelings when I take my darling little brother into my arms--'

'I'll bet it's his,' cried Mrs. Goyte. 'No,' I said. 'It's her mother's.' 'Don't you believe it,' she cried. 'It's a blind. You mark, it's her own right enough--and his.'

'No,' I said, 'it's her mother's.'

'He has sweet smiling eyes, but not like your beautiful English eyes--'

She suddenly struck her hand on her skirt with a wild motion, and bent down, doubled with laughter. Then she rose and covered her face with her hand.

'I'm forced to laugh at the beautiful English eyes,' she said.

'Aren't his eyes beautiful?' I asked.

'Oh, yes--very! Go on!--Joey, dear, dee-urr, Joey!'--this to the peacock.

--'Er--We miss you very much. We all miss you. We wish you were here to see the darling baby. Ah, Alfred, how happy we were when you stayed with us. We all loved you so much. My mother will call the baby Alfred so that we shall never forget you--'

'Of course it's his right enough,' cried Mrs. Goyte.

'No,' I said. 'It's the mother's.' Er--'My mother is very well. My father came home yesterday--on leave. He is delighted with his son, my little brother, and wishes to have him named after you, because you were so good to us all in that terrible time, which I shall never forget. I must weep now when I think of it. Well, you are far away in England, and perhaps I shall never see you again. How did you find your dear mother and father? I am so happy that your wound is better, and that you can nearly walk--'

'How did he find his dear wife!' cried Mrs. Goyte. 'He never told her he had one. Think of taking the poor girl in like that!'

'We are so pleased when you write to us. Yet now you are in England you will forget the family you served so well--' 'A bit too well--eh, Joey!' cried the wife. 'If it had not been for you we should not be alive now, to grieve and to rejoice in this life, that is so hard for us. But we have recovered some of our losses, and no longer feel the burden of poverty. The little Alfred is a great comfort to me. I hold him to my breast and think of the big, good Alfred, and I weep to think that those times of suffering were perhaps the times of a great happiness that is gone for ever.'

'Oh, but isn't it a shame, to take a poor girl in like that!' cried Mrs. Goyte. 'Never to let on that he was married, and raise her hopes--I call it beastly, I do.'

'You don't know,' I said. 'You know how anxious women are to fall in love, wife or no wife. How could he help it, if she was determined to fall in love with him?'

'He could have helped it if he'd wanted.'

'Well,' I said, 'we aren't all heroes.'

'Oh, but that's different! The big, good Alfred!--did ever you hear such tommy-rot in your life! Go on--what does she say at the end?'

'Er--We shall be pleased to hear of your life in England. We all send many kind regards to your good parents. I wish you all happiness for your future days. Your very affectionate and ever-grateful Élise.'

There was silence for a moment, during which Mrs. Goyte remained with her head dropped, sinister and abstracted. Suddenly she lifted her face, and her eyes flashed.

'Oh, but I call it beastly, I call it mean, to take a girl in like that.'

'Nay,' I said. 'Probably he hasn't taken her in at all. Do you think those French girls are such poor innocent things? I guess she's a great deal more downy than he.'

'Oh, he's one of the biggest fools that ever walked,' she cried.

'There you are!' said I.

'But it's his child right enough,' she said.

'I don't think so,' said I. 'I'm sure of it.'

'Oh, well,' I said, 'if you prefer to think that way.'

'What other reason has she for writing like that--' I went out into the road and looked at the cattle. 'Who is this driving the cows?' I said. She too came out. 'It's the boy from the next farm,' she said.

'Oh, well,' said I, 'those Belgian girls! You never know where their letters will end. And, after all, it's his affair--you needn't bother.'

'Oh--!' she cried, with rough scorn--'it's not me that bothers. But it's the nasty meanness of it--me writing him such loving letters'--she put her hand before her face and laughed malevolently--'and sending him parcels all the time. You bet he fed that gurrl on my parcels--I know he did. It's just like him. I'll bet they laughed together over my letters. I bet anything they did--'

'Nay,' said I. 'He'd burn your letters for fear they'd give him away.'

There was a black look on her yellow face. Suddenly a voice was heard calling. She poked her head out of the shed, and answered coolly:

'All right!' Then turning to me: 'That's his mother looking after me.' She laughed into my face, witch-like, and we turned down the road.

Much of this part, we may have already discussed; but you might find some additional details or references to pick up on and discuss in particular, within these two sections. When I get back home I will try to post more text, if you all think we are ready to move on.

This part strikes me:

'How did he find his dear wife!' cried Mrs. Goyte. 'He never told her he had one. Think of taking the poor girl in like that!'

It seems Mrs. Goyte is actually feeling empathy for the poor girl left behind with the child, not knowing what she got into to begin with with a married wife back home. She apparently believes the girl never knew of her existence. If this is true than I think by pointing this part out, Lawrence is giving us an example of many cases during the war when this sort of thing did occur and how it was quite a travesty, this biproduct of war. Within this one young woman character is embodied the decent of thousand, most likely. This very thing is what 'Madame Butterfly' was based on, so the story is quite universal.

[Dark Muse]

It seems Mrs. Goyte is actually feeling empathy for the poor girl left behind with the child, not knowing what she got into to begin with with a married wife back home. She apparently believes the girl never knew of her existence. If this is true than I think by pointing this part out, Lawrence is giving us an example of many cases during the war when this sort of thing did occur and how it was quite a travesty, this biproduct of war. Within this one young woman character is embodied the decent of thousand, most likely. This very thing is what 'Madame Butterfly' was based on, so the story is quite universal.

I think her emapthy for the other woman is also further statement upon the character of Alfred. The fact that she feels sorry for the woman seems to suggest that Maggies knows the kind of man Alfred is, and suggests this is not his first offence. When she first speaks of her marraige to him with the narrator she calls herself a fool. It seems she has a good deal of reason to suspect Alfred and that he might perhaps have something of a history as a womanizer.