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Lady Chatterley’s husband returns from the War paralysed from the waist down. Frustrated by his attitudes as much as his disability, she begins a love-affair with the gamekeeper, Mellors. She realises that to be fully alive she must live the life of the body as well as the mind, but in doing so she angers the conventions of her day. Banned for over 30 years for the explicit nature of its language and descriptions of sex, Lady Chatterley’s Lover also exposes the dehumanisation of the mechanical age, and underlines the profound power of tenderness.
David Herbert Richards Lawrence: Lady Chatterley's Lover (Abridged)
Ours is essentially a tragic age…
In 1916 Herbert Chatterley was killed…
Connie and Clifford had now been nearly two years at Wragby…
Breakfast was served in the bedrooms…
'I don't think I can stand that young man…'
Clifford was making strides into fame, and even money.
On a frosty morning with a little February sun…
She was watching a brown spaniel that had run out…
Michaelis had seized upon Clifford as the central figure…
On one of her bad days she went out alone to walk in the wood…
It had rained as usual and the paths were too sodden…
When Connie went up to her bedroom…
Clifford was yellow at the gills with anger…
So next day Clifford suggested Mrs. Bolton…
It was a blowy day soon after Hilda had gone…
Connie came to herself with a sudden uneasiness…
Mrs. Bolton was admirable in many ways.
Under Mrs. Bolton's influence…
But this astute and practical man was almost an idiot…
One evening, guests or no guests…
With a queer obedience, she lay down on the blanket.
She went to the wood the next day.
She turned and looked at him.
And again the dread of the night came on him.
He could not rest nor even go to bed.
Connie was sorting out one of the Wragby lumber rooms.
It was a sunny day and Connie was working in the garden.
Connie went to the wood directly after lunch.
She set the two cups on the table…
Now he really looked at her, intense and searching.
She slipped out of the side door, and took her way…
Ah, too lovely, too lovely!
On Sunday Clifford wanted to go into the wood…
She went upstairs as soon as possible…
'I'll tell you,' he said.
He got up, and put her shoes to dry…
Then he woke up and looked at the light.
He heard the distant hooters of Stacks Gate for seven o'clock.
There fell a complete silence.
The curious gulf of silence between them!
Connie arrived home to an ordeal of cross-questioning.
And the day came round for Hilda to arrive.
There was an early cup of tea in the hall…
He unlocked the door and preceded them into the warm…
It was a night of sensual passion…
She and Hilda stayed in a little hotel off Pall Mall…
She had been at Venice a fortnight…
A few days later came a letter from Clifford.
She had to make up her mind what to do.
She found a letter from Mellors.
Connie confided in her father.
'Dear Clifford, I am afraid what you foresaw has happened.'
Ours is essentially a tragic age…