Chapter 11 Chapter 7 1918, in Bandar

Almighty Father, Almighty Lord, Gave us, your child heart, lungs, and liver; Since you have endowed me with the wonderful gift of language, Don't listen to my complaints and dissatisfaction with the lungs. ——"Poems Written in Strange Lands" February 1918 In the late summer of 1917, the "Two Tigers" had been dreaming that after the war the two could live quietly in a lovely cottage and become brilliant writers - finally married (the divorce case was coming to an end) and freed of all their past. pressures, to devote myself to literature, that would be Lankton Cottage without all its disappointments, and no one in Bloomsbury but Virginia could step over the threshold and stop calling Catherine's name. into their own gossip to laugh at.They will have a young son - someone else will take care of him - and they will read Wordsworth and Coleridge.With wisps of smoke rising from the burning autumn leaves, they would both write their best work in their separate rooms.Murray first described this prospect in a letter to his high school brother (Arthur, later Richard).Arthur was already in the country at this time, and he worked in Jiaxington according to his brother's arrangement to facilitate his recovery after lymphatic tuberculosis surgery; later, relying on Jack's funding, he will study printing at the Central School of Art and Design. In September 1917, Murray wrote him that after the war the three of them would find "lovely old cottages, with walls six feet thick, orchards, meadows, and many fine farm houses nearby."They could turn the best granary into a bookstore, Richard could tend the garden and make butter, and the three of them (don't give it away) "will be very famous together!"

The dream farm was later called "The Heron" in honor of Catherine's brother.Murray's description is somewhat self-deprecating, deliberately confusing Clive Bell, but the dream is serious. They both believe that the good old days will return after the war. At present, both of them are working hard. Murray was so overworked that he fell ill in November and Clover-Hill warned him again that he might contract tuberculosis (a disease that was killing 1,000 people a week in the UK at the time) and advised him to take sick leave , so Catherine wrote to Lady Morel to inquire if they could live on the farm, "He has a little infection of one lung, but the chief problem is fever, exhaustion--collapse after those dreadful oppressions and exertions. .”

She's feeling fine herself at this point, the only ailment she's had this year has been that damn "rheumatic neck, and there's no sign she knows her lungs are getting eroded, too. What's even more extraordinary is that only a few weeks ago she translated al Fonce Daudet's story "Monsieur Seguin's Goat" was published in Le Neue Zeit. This is a cautionary tale from Provence, intended to make children value their home.The story is epistolary, addressed to a 15th-century French poet who preferred a life of poverty and sickness to comfort and comfort.Well, Daudet said, even M. Seguin's goat longed for freedom; it broke the rope, ran up the hill, met the wolf, and fought all night until dawn.

"At last," said the poor fellow, he waited for the dawn to die, and he lay down on the ground, his white and lovely fur was stained with blood. . ——Annotation ① Alphonse Daudet (1840~1897), a French writer, is famous for his short stories and prose stories describing the scenery of southern France.His most famous works are, and have been compiled into Chinese textbooks for primary and secondary schools in many countries. ——Annotation ②The name of the province in southeastern France. ——Annotation It ate up. In any case, Catherine—she herself will soon be sick and go to France during the war—discovered this Provence story, translated it and published it, and it is not true that she cannot see herself in M. Seguin's sheep. possible.Translation was not her habit, it was the only work she ever published, and it clearly belonged to the category of strange predictions of fate.She's been chasing that destiny since she was a teenager, and she knows the price.Her freedom in the mountains is her art.

Murray went to Jossington on 24th November, and of course lived in the mansion, and they decided never to live apart again, whatever the HMA said.Murray "goes out looking for houses during the day and writes at night", much to Catherine's displeasure. So she went to the country in the cold for the weekend, and on the way to the station in the carriage, she caught a cold and had to go back to Chelsea to stay in bed, and soon fell ill, and the "pleurisy" happened again.A neighbor brought in Dr Inger (also a New Zealander) and he said he had to stay in bed, she told Murray, adding: "I still feel euphoric, in fact I can't sleep at all, I just lay there agitated."

Murray had come to town and had given up Christmas at Bestington.Dr Inge said that Catherine must avoid wintering in England, and suggested going to the South of France (which would also avoid jeopardizing the divorce proceedings), and decided to accompany Ada to help Catherine settle, since she had a medical certificate.Murray and Ida went to get passports, and the news was told to Mrs. Morel as a joke, but behind the joke was fear, for Dr. Inger soon said that there was a "spot" on Catherine's right lung, The most urgent task is to bask in the sun. At this time, if she pays attention to herself, she may still be saved.

The news also brought help from the family. Catherine's sister Chedi became a widow in India and now works in the War Register in London. She and Aunt Bell came to visit by car and brought a lot of food that was hard to get at the time.Aunt Bell (she herself had tuberculosis) wanted to take Catherine to her country house, comfortably—"in leather clothes, and drive around in a motor car"—but Dr. Inger said no, she had to be quiet stay where you are.So there was no Christmas party, and Catherine told Murray that Aunt Bell's gift was "a huge apple-green silk padded gown .

By New Year's Day Catherine felt better and was able to meet Murray at Justington and rest before the trip.After returning to London, they learned that Ada had not obtained the extended license and could not accompany her to go abroad. Perhaps the whole plan should be abandoned at this time, but they followed the original plan regardless of the threat of war.They made love at Murray's on Sunday afternoon, and on Monday (January 7, 1918 Catherine set off from Waterloo alone, wearing a pair of beautiful new leather muffs. What a joy she was back in April to marry! Murray must remember to send her letters and telegrams to "Mrs. Borden"--that was the name on her damned passport.

When she reached Le Havre, there was a snowstorm, and she described the beauty of the snowstorm.She felt her chest hot, like an "iron".Even though the train to Paris was unheated, and snowflakes came in through a cracked window, she was still preoccupied with describing the scene.Then she rode through Fontainebleau to Midi, which the two ladies in black in the same carriage said was where consumptives died; Bad wounded soldiers, Murray, Mrs. Morel and JD, Ferguson all received interesting descriptions of these soldiers after a few days.Danger or pain is often the burning stimulus for writing.

①The name of the London railway station. —— Annotation ②A seaport city in northern France, located at the mouth of the Seine. ——Annotation ③French place names, south of Paris. ——Annotation Of course travel has its price, and upon arriving in Bandar, Catherine told Murray she felt like "a fly that fell into a milk jug and was fished out, still wet and half-drowned, unable to begin grooming Own." All newcomers lived in the Rivage Hotel. A strange woman greeted her and wiped her mouth with a napkin. No one knew about her reservation.The hotel has no heating, the price is more expensive than in the past, and the familiar shops in the city have changed, and now no one knows her.A destroyer and two submarines were moored in the bay—"black soldiers everywhere."Cigarettes were out of reach, too, until a submarine captain gave her some homemade cigarettes.There is droppings under the palm trees.This was Catherine's first real experience of the consequences of the war on Europe, although this experience came too late, and England only knew a little bit.

In the more than 90 letters written after four months of separation, accounting for one-fifth of all Catherine's letters to Murray, her most courageous words, her most ruthless, and most desperate words can be found; Love, not only for Murray (the Caucasian maid, Julia, is also unforgettable), but some bleed cold hatred; rushing from one extreme of hot and cold to the other. Her first reaction to France—while passing through Paris—was to confess her love for it (“because I never felt indifferent”), but in the third week she wrote in her notebook that she hated France, and again Start writing a story that further expresses this feeling.She herself felt the same scene as Laurence, could not control her rage, and began to resent Lady Morel, though a costly cloak she had given her was now protecting her from the cold at night. She didn't want to frustrate Murray's decision to worry about any bad news, because she had no one else to talk to.He started to take action to help as much as he could.They had a friendly acquaintance in Carpentary, Regina Giovno, whose husband was a doctor and now the mayor, and Murray wrote her a letter, and she went unexpectedly. Visited Catherine and stayed with her for one night on January 28th after a tiring journey. Her fanatical love of Keats made her a nuisance guest.Murray also told Ida about Catherine's condition, and she tried again to get a travel passport. While Mrs Giovno was there, Catherine wrote: "My left lung hurts like a horrible burn." But "don't let Leslie come". "I can live with it, and if it's bad, I'll tell Giovno."The next day she admitted that "indeed, I was very ill," and went into town to buy a cane with a rubber tip to support her walking. Far from getting in the way of work, the pain and anxiety had the opposite effect, and she began to write a piece, but it was "tedious and lost".And then, at the end of January, just after a rant about French sexuality, I started writing the story "I Can't Speak French."She began writing this story in a state of frenetic agitation—a state that has since marked her creative phase—in a state in which one hardly expects anything from one's own worst enemy.Halfway through the story, she wrote to Murray: "My work excites me so much that at night I feel almost mad."Not knowing it was a danger sign, she added: "There was a huge black bird hovering over my head and I was terrified it was going to come down - so scared I didn't quite know what it looked like." Nocturnal terrors and insomnia returned, night terrors of long ago, and her only relief was to read Dickens: "If I sit in bed and read him, it diverts my attention." Without writing, however, "war and anxiety drive me mad. The horrors I feel here at night are mixed with hordes of wild dogs scurrying about for food and crying and howling".That may be the howl of the wolf at night described by Daudet. ① French place names. —— Annotation When Catherine was going through all this, in London, Murray, exhausted and exhausted, came home alone after eating out every night, read her letters over and over, and considered the appropriate tone to write her back.His responsibilities grew (soon to be Censor General), but at night his own ambition was to be the most eminent poet in England at the time.It was a turning point in his life when he had read Keats's letters for the first time the previous autumn at Bestington, especially at this particular time when fate seemed to have diverted Keats' disease from his own lungs to the Catherine's body, so he felt deeply.Not long after, he told her that he thought he could write "love poetry like never before", before declaring: No, my dear, you and I are English, and it is only because we are English that we are contemporary with us. People segregated, they held heresies, only you and me, and Wordsworth, Coleridge, Lamb, Keats and Shelley to follow.. You are the perfect flower of England - Shakespeare dreamed - —I know I'm a little wild, but sometimes those weird thoughts are real. Poor Murray, the whimsical choice of ironic words.In fact, it was the "hereism" that was going to change English poetry, and two outsiders, Eliot and Pound, had already set out to prepare for a rebellion. For Murray, a shared escape from the city and a life of corruption was not the path to success, and here he wrote poems drawn from life but in dead language.In their house, at least, it was Catherine who updated English literature in a most un-British way. Then she gets startling news: Ada is coming soon.Ada, not encouraged by Murray, went to the passport office by herself, cried in public, and finally achieved her goal. Catherine began to receive some hysterical letters from her, worse than Mrs. Giovno.Ada was really coming, to live off what Katie needed of her.Catherine has something to say about Edda being a cannibal: "She's a bit of a corpse eater.. whenever I need a massage, she's like an angel because it's her food.. so in the studio I often Felt furious because she ate me right in front of my face and I really felt sick." On February 10, Catherine finished transcribing "I Can't Speak French" and sent the manuscript to Murray: "Take it, it's yours," she wrote, "but with what a strange feeling I write—oh , I seem to be a mature writer—a kind of authority—as I feel about your poem, and I hope you like it when you receive it.” She told him that she had dreamed a whole story at night, even had a title, and it was "Sun and Moon," and the next day she wrote it down, transcribed it, and was about to start some great new work , just worrying that Edda will show up all the time.What is she running here for?Is he sick?If so, she can understand. Ada arrived on February 12th, bringing some squashed fruitcake, "almost hysterical to my condition".In successive letters to Murray, she is referred to with an almost fever-like disgust: "She is a nasty hysterical ghoul who can only be satisfied by eating me." It's a pity you didn't see her stretch her face and say 'I think you're very sick', I felt my blood freeze". "Oh, I'm so sick of her, her old hen energy—and her 'we, we'." "One day, Ada asked: 'Baby Katie, who is Wordsworth Will I like him? Don't frown, I love you, angel, everything about you, including the frown. When will I comb your hair again?'" ①Poet Keats died of lung failure—Annotation But this Leslie's greatest triumph, seven days after her arrival, was Catherine's glimpse of the blood-red tongue of Doud's wolf. February 19th, I woke up early today, opened the blinds, saw the sun had risen, I began to recite Shakespeare's verse: "The gentle lark is tired of rest", and then fell on the bed, I began to cough When I got up - I spit out a mouthful of sputum, which smelled a bit strange - it turned out to be blood, so every time I coughed, I would vomit a little blood.Oh, of course I freaked out, but only for two reasons: I didn't want to get sick when Murray wasn't around, and I mean "sick" and I thought of Murray first; and second, I didn't want to find out that Really suffering from tuberculosis, maybe a big attack-who knows? —I can't finish my work, it's crucial, it's terrible to die like this—only "fragments" are left, without finishing the real thing—Ada sent for the doctor. The doctor was barely British.After seeing her sick, Catherine wrote to Murray, downplaying the incident. "Porgy," she wrote, referring to Murray by the nickname she had once had for her younger brother, "it wasn't serious and didn't keep me in bed. It was absolutely curable, but I vomited a little blood.” In fact she “nearly freaked out” at the sight of blood, which she understood right away.Keats knew it, Laurence knew it, and her own Aunt Bell had known it too. What Catherine calls the "bubble-eyed" doctor is the kind of unknown character she hates to meet in a foreign land—a "dirty savage" who is "madly devoted to disease and passion."She was "sure he came here because he killed some poor girl with a dirty hook."The only thing to do was to bear the look in his eyes, to write to Dr. Inger, and to write for M. Seguin's sheep.Beyond that, of course, she could resort to humor and write something funny, or she could keep working and wrestle all night till dawn. Writing I Can't Speak French was motivated by three factors, one of which was an inexplicable hatred of the French since this arrival in France; the other was her sense of the war and the harm it did to everything she loved Great disappointment (“It’s always on my mind, it messes everything up”); however, she admits that the strongest motivator was her love for Murray, who “feeded on our love” when writing the book , calling it an ode to love, "You know it's the best I can do right now." This is her first short story that does not feature herself as the protagonist, and the way of writing is to completely imitate the cynical narrator in the novel.It was not for nothing that Catherine read Dickens a great deal at the time—"I did not read Dickens casually"—.She has always used analog in the past, and now finds ways to use analog throughout her work.Another, more obvious influence is that of Dostoyevsky: there is much of Notes from Underground in the tone of the novel, in the self-confessions of the sleazy narrator. "I Can't Speak French" is one of the most convincing accounts of her artistic goals in what Catherine called her "cry against corruption" short story, the following passage is often quoted: I had two "kick-offs" in it, one of which was joy - real joy - in which Pauline made me write, the kind of writing I could do only in a state of blissful calm, when something wonderful and lovely It seemed to unfold before my eyes, like a flower that has never been aware of the frosty cold—knowing that all around it is warm, soft, and still waiting.I've been trying to express it. Another "kick-off" is my old one, and if I haven't experienced love, it will be the only one I have: ①One of Dostoyevsky's famous works. — Not a sense of hatred or destruction (both are real motives for adopting an attitude of contempt), but a sense of extreme desperation, the feeling that everything is doomed, like almond blossoms and Christmas candy, to stupid and willful destruction.By the way, when I pulled out a cigarette paper, I just found the right word to describe it - a cry against corruption - which is indeed a target, not a protest - but a cry.Of course the fall is also in its broadest sense. I am now in this second situation, sailing with all my might into the deep ocean.. The small editions of "I Don't Speak French" printed by a private press when it first came out are rare, uncut and unworn To Rili, it was never reprinted, so little is known of the story in its original form. The story is narrated by a cynical young Persian named Lul Douk, "French like a perfumed fox," who sits in a café brooding while the whole story flows through his thoughts. He wrote for two newspapers, but he liked serious literature, and he also liked things that had an English flavor: wearing English coats and having an English desk in the apartment; he liked the funny song about "a fish ball"; He had a homosexual affection for the young English writer Dick Harmon, whom he had preferred his own mother, whom they had met in Paris. At the coffee shop, Duck picked up a blotter and found someone had written in there "that stupid cliché 'I don't speak French'" and it was this that suddenly reminded him of the story about Dick and the The sad story of a beautiful, lonely English girl who Dick abandons shortly after taking her to Paris. Dick called her "rat" (a hangover from "tiger" no doubt), and she had no other name.They ask Doug to book two rooms at a "decent" hotel, and he picks them up at the station.The mouse is elegant and weak, wearing a long black cloak trimmed with black fur, with his hands hidden in a small leather muff—"the second mouse". "I don't speak French" was the first thing she said to him, she knew no one in Paris. He led them into the room, where they rested for a while, and the mouse begged "bring tea at once!" He soon realized that all was not right between them; and Dick then ran to another room to "write a letter": "It's for my mother".He never came back; and after a long, awkward wait, the mouse went across the room and found the letter left for her: Mouse, my little mouse: It's no use, it's impossible, I can't hold on, oh , I do love you, I do love you, Mouse, but I can't hurt her.. Duke (as he sits in the café remembering this little tragedy, we know he's actually a male prostitute) can't comfort Mouse, she avoids Opened his gentle help, was skeptical of his words "please consider me your friend", but accepted the suggestion to call him tomorrow because "everything is too difficult" - because "I won't It is said that he just left and never went to that place again. The story is apparently in some way a rebuttal to Calco's "Innocence," which Murray had reviewed for the Literary Supplement the previous July, and she now tells him that "the subject matter, that 'speaking French' , of course taken from Calco, Gertler and God knows who, but I hope you understand (of course you do) that I didn't mean to hurt anyone, I really didn't." In fact the original story begins immediately after a paragraph. That passage begins with "But man, man, how I hate the French, they're always in heat, look how they dance, sniff a woman's skirt.." when sending the first half to Murray , Catherine said she had just re-read it and couldn't figure out where on earth she got her story—from real life far less than one might think: the African washerwoman I hated—but only That's all—and Dick Harmon, of course, some of—'. Here she breaks off, and it's not hard to see that Dick Harmon is "somewhat like Murray" and the mouse in the muff is partly Catherine he brought to Paris in 1912 and left London Waterloo six weeks earlier Catherine of the station, and of course certainly the Marguerite he abandoned in Paris in 1911, excuses the mother to be blamed.And Duke, like Scott Fitzgerald's Nick Carraway, is Catherine seeing herself through her own eyes, a role that contains a self-condemnation of her intelligent self. A pair of "Innocence" The self-condemnation of the plagiarized Pooh. Two years later, when Constable was preparing to publish the anthology, including I Can't Speak French, Michael Sadler insisted on cutting out certain passages, all of which had to do with sexual abuse, which itself The intent is to make Duke's self-portrait clearer and more villainous, and it's the biting irony that makes the story's intent clear, and in a way, it's actually Catherine's. In 1920, hearing that Constable had asked for certain cuts, Catherine said she was extremely angry with Michael Sadler and would never agree: "Should I take the eyes off the story for £40? . . . outline It will become blurred, and those clear lines cannot be deleted..." The next day, she conceded, thinking that she was too self-willed, but then changed her mind again, regretting that she should not have deleted a word: "I was wrong. It's -- dead wrong." After the dream experience of "Sun and Moon," Catherine embarked on some "great story"; but it was only "Happiness."Bertha's own description draws on the painful reality of the ever-admired, famous, and in fact ruthless story, in which the women are human beings and the men are mere types, so that their relationship is alienated: . . . there was still that bright, radiant place in her heart—that little spark came from there, and it was almost unbearable, and she scarcely dared to breathe lest she fan the flames.Yet she breathed deeply, deeply. —but her husband Harry is a vulgar securities dealer, and stupid Eddie seems to have come from a tennis party portrayed in Clumsy.Arty London drawing-room sarcasm is as clever and superficial as that of Aldous Huxley, himself a prototype for Eddie. TS Eliot, in his Worship of the Other Gods, praises the story's "perfect handling of minute material", but also does justice to its "minimal moral implication". March passed quietly, without writing anything.Now all Catherine wants is to go home to Murray and get rid of Ida - she threatens to take her taxi to Murray's place in Radcliffe Street to unpack Kay, even though Murray is there: "Someone has to take good care of you after a trip".Catherine said, "If you saw how she fixed her eyes on me when she said this, you would understand why I am ① Scott Fitzgerald (1896-1941), American novelist, one of his major works Yes.—The storyteller in Zezhu②.—Yiezhu③The editor in charge of publishing the anthology of Catherine’s novels.—Yiezhu.4 The heroine in "Happiness."—Yiezhu hates her.” However, what followed It was a disaster at the head of this war-defying French tour. The two women left Bandar on March 21, 1918, intending to return directly to London, Catherine's passport was only valid for Paris, so they went to Paris - Paris in the spring - on the day Germany started using the new long-range artillery Bombing the city, and in a panic, no longer able to hope to cross the Channel, they found a hotel near Sorbonne and settled down. The cannon blares eeriely every 18 minutes—or once a day, never with a regular pattern.Sitting on a pile of coal in the basement of a hotel, "listening to the damned Poles and Russians," it all seemed too much like something out of a Dostoyevsky novel.Murray, on the other hand, seems to appreciate symbolic associations more. He wrote to Catherine, "I am in a state of mind that I have now, I see symbols in everything.. These weeks are indescribable.. It seems that my soul, and more precious than my soul Something, a beautiful ideal of soul-to-spirituality, has been yanked out of me into flakes or sparkling bubbles." All her life Ada had been disgusted with this self-absorbed self-absorption of the man her darling loved. Two women worked tense hours a day in a communal canteen—the only documented occupation of Catherine's during the war.Every day she goes to the post office to get the letter, to the military passport office, to the post office.Ada said they had run out of money, and Catherine had to go see "someone she would have given anything to see," and came back with some cash.Ada dared not ask, but suspected that it might be Calco (more likely Beatrice Hastings). Three terrible weeks turned into what Catherine called "another Sodom and Gomorrah."When a cannonball landed nearby with a deafening noise, she ran to see: the entire roof of a house "seemed to have been gnawed off", the road was covered with rubble, and the trees on both sides of the street were just growing new green, Many branches have been blown off, but there are still many shreds of clothes and papers hanging on the stumps - a pajamas, a sleeveless shirt, a tie, all hanging here and there in the sun, and then: two Workers came to clear the ruins and found a woman's silk petticoat under the rubble. He put it on and danced a dance or two, which caused a lot of laughter. Feet, his bared grin, broken branches and blown-up houses. These three weeks of observing human nature were a depravity in itself, "This is not Paris, this is Hell," Catherine wrote, saying that Ada played the role of devil's guard in that place: "Pausing at every shop, Muttering, 'I'd love to see your hands full of dainty rings someday'." Catherine's own dream was to marry Murray as soon as she got back to London--not to be called "Mrs. waste.Then they were off to a Heron, and she even had this womanly hope: "I want to see the doctor and ask if Aunt Martha hasn't been here since that Sunday afternoon. There's no reason to celebrate. Don't hope until I ask, of course." But she was not pregnant, and she was very ill before leaving Bandar, and then wandered around, ①The name of the urban area of ​​​​Paris,——Annotation ① Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed by the legendary God in the Bible sin city. ——Annotation ①Catherine's euphemism for the menstrual cycle. ——The original note made me frightened and haggard (the person in the passport photo looks like a ghost).Finally, on April 10, 1918, he finally escaped from France with Edda and crossed the Channel, already very ill and blind. It was known 4 years ago that "the history of Europe" was coming to an end, and that family life and its support for the arts were under threat, Wordsworth's England, England of writers and wives, lovely old cottages to write in , and smoke rose from the fire of burning autumn leaves--and all these hopes of Catherine and Murray were dashed.