Chapter 6 world war one

Later, the war broke out.It was a bolt from the blue for both of us.At the time, Lawrence was traveling around the Lakelands with friends and I was in London.I remember, after Lawrence came back, I had lunch with Rupert Brooke and Eddie Marsh.Rupert Brooke's fantastic hair dangled before my eyes.Immediately he blushed again.His beauty is strange and sad.He came to be with us.And then I thought, "He's tired of life." He wasn't happy, he wasn't fulfilled.I remember Eddie Marsh saying, "There may be war, but, just today, the Foreign Office and Lord Gray are avoiding it."

However, we simply cannot believe that ... war ... But, the politician just said, "Start a bloody peace again." Then, war was declared.At first it was just excitement... so excited!In the beginning, no one knew what kind of hell, what lowly demons were unleashed. We saw the departure of the troops at Charing Cross station.The female soldiers in the army looked nervous and livid.They bravely held back their tears to bid farewell to their loved ones.I shed tears for the misery of these unknown women.I don't care whether these young people are British, French, Russian, or what country.Nationality is a mere accident, and there is a sadness in it.Lawrence despised my tears.

He himself is confused and at a loss, which is abstract and spiritual, and he can't feel any more.Because I grew up with the drumbeat of German militarism, I was terrified. Lawrence was no pacifist.He has fought all his life.But he vehemently condemned the "Great War."That inhuman, mechanical, destructive war!Why destroy it! At last Lloyd George's power came to the fore, and he was thoroughly disappointed in the spirit of his country.It is unbelievable that the un-British Lloyd George was able to establish British prestige. War, war again, "Diesirae, Diesilla," a terrible catastrophe, the collapse of the stability of the entire human race!Lawrence felt this.I felt nothing but horror—all ugly instincts freed and all peace lost.

One evening, on our way home from a friend's house, we encountered a large crowd in Hampstead.What is flying in the clouds in the sky cannot be determined, but it may be a Zeppelin airship.I thought, "In that Zeppelin there might be boys or guys I danced with or played with when I was a girl. Now they're here to bring death and destruction to this place. If these evil masses knew I'm German and I'm afraid it will tear me to pieces." We went home with a sad mood.There is terror everywhere and we are very alone.We borrowed a shanty in the Berkshires.Mistrust haunts us all the time.Even when we were looking for blackberries around the hedges, there were patrolmen poking their heads out from behind the bushes to see who we were.Lawrence wrote so bravely and openly, but why do many people hate him?Lawrence had no secrets to keep, didn't they have them?To this day, a woman boasts of deporting us from Cornwall on suspicion of being spies.

Our shanty was not far from Gilbert and Mary Cannan's mill.The Murrays lived about an hour's walk away.We used to go to them on cold winter nights through fields of bare trees and decaying cabbage stalks. Camille came to spend the weekend with us.In London, he looked very handsome with gauze legs and a velvet cap.But this time, he covered his face with an old hat, and held a heavy walking stick under his arm.He's staring at me like an Irish tramp, and he's still worrying about his "Alan." Christmas is here.We spruced up the hovel with hiiragi and mistletoe.We cook, boil, fry, and bake.Camille, Kotriyanski, Murray, and then Gertler and the Kannans came.We spent the night in great spirits.

We dance in the yard.Gilbert sang face up.Catherine made a strange face and sang this mournful song: I am an unfortunate man, fell into the mine. sprained my foot, Three months later coal was stolen. I am an unfortunate man, Even if it rains broth all day long, I don't have a spoon either, Only forks. She also sang: Chicken cake, your syrup is delicious, Your syrup is so delicious, Chicken cake, don't cry, Because this is someone else's home. Because I like this song, Lawrence stopped when he sang.It was a little too early for Lawrence.In the years that followed, I was never truly delighted with this opportunity.

In the spring we went to live with the Menells in Sussex.His children are lovely.The neighbor's name is Monica.We stayed in the room that Violetta lent us.I only remember very vaguely what Alice Meynell looked like.She was led by Wilfred Meynell as Beatrice was led by Dante. While living there, I heard the news of my father's death.I didn't tell anyone about it, I just kept it to myself.When I told Lawrence, all he said was, "I want to be with your father all my life, but I can't." Bertrand Russell invited Lawrence to Cambridge.Lawrence had high hopes for the visit.When he came back, I asked him, "What was going on there? What did everyone say?"

He replied, "Well, in the evening, people are drinking wine, walking around the room, talking about the situation in the Balkans, but these guys don't know anything about it." We met Mrs. Ottoline Morel.She had a great influence on Lawrence's life.Her elegant upbringing, good family, and her social ability all have profound meanings to Lawrence. At the time, I felt, "Maybe I should win Lawrence out of her influence, who's to say they'd do anything for England not to be together? I'm too incompetent..." Many fled to Kensingne during the Great War Dayton, making it a place of refuge.And in a time when there was no freedom, great freedom remained here.Later, we had a little bungalow called "Heath Valley".At this time, it was published, but it was banned.When this happened, I thought: massacre, a new massacre of freedom of speech on this earth has begun again.I thought this book, a welcome aid from mundane material, would be welcome as a way to lead one into new and unknown territories.Lawrence has poured all the effort of his soul into this book.Yet it was persecuted, and no one rose against the persecution, against its severity.People say those guys are sex maniacs.

People still don't really understand: what a man like Lawrence is to the living body; what he did to save the fallen angel of sex.Sex has been driven into the gutter and should be pulled out.I know the passion in him, and what a distress it is to see it quenched by his fellow man.He said sadly, "I don't want to say anything more, because no one understands me." In the next period of time, the fire in his heart was indeed extinguished. Of course he won't be like this for a long time.I recalled with pleasure Freer's words.She said, "Lawrence was ahead of the curve because people looked so small on him." Thinking of his comment, the words of Heraclitus came back to my mind.

"The grown men of the Ephisas should be hanged. The city should be given to the young men with hairless mouths. For when they drove out the best of them, Hamedras, we can do without the best, People like that are the best wherever they go.” This is how the best were treated during the Great War.And I have had bad luck in this miserable period.Naturally, I catered to Lawrence's anguish and restlessness.His gentleness was gone, and for a long time he ignored me and everyone else.Everything displeased him.There was no hope or joy anywhere.We were in "Heath Valley" in Hampstead and he hated "Heath Valley" and the bungalow and me and the others... There was war everywhere... We were overwhelmed by war.

We found a little house near Zeno in Cornwall that we called Tregarson.It was built on the edge of a granite pit.The rent is £5 per year.We like it very much.We cleaned its walls, painted it a light peach, and painted the kitchen rack a crisp blue.This is the entrance room, each room is very small, but very square. There was a nice looking stove with two market figures "Gaspar and Brigitte" on it.There is a beautiful embroidery on the wall.It was embroidered by Mrs. Ottoline Morel after Duncan Grant's drawing.There is a tree with big flowers and birds and beasts on it.At the back of the living room there is a black and bumpy boiler.On the second floor there is a large room overlooking the sea, like a large cabin on the top deck of a ship.The cottage was shaken by a strong wind from Cornwall.The strong wind howled against the hut, and the torrential rain poured obliquely on the hut, sometimes blowing the door open, and the rainwater poured directly into the hut. I remember that I came in a carriage with Catherine and Murray.We sat on the high pile of luggage and walked the path to Tregarson.Catherine looked like an immigrant.I love the little jacket she's wearing, especially the bees embroidered with black and gold thread. I feel very comfortable in St. Ives buying well-made furniture with the Murrays.In order to buy new products, fishermen take out very high-end antiques and sell them.The things we bought came in a wagon that was falling apart, and the things were only slightly bundled on the wagon, which bumped and bumped on the uneven road.In my opinion, the best purchase we ever made was a bed.Then, both in the cottage near the Murrays and in our own cottage, the intense work of processing the purchases began: repainting the chairs, polishing the brass, repairing the old clock, Put the utensils on the kitchen rack, and so on.After everything is packed, I like to take a walk with Catherine in the direction of Zeno.She hates strong winds, and when she walks against the wind, her feet drag and rattle.Later, we used to sit under the digitalis and sunbathe, telling stories, as she put it, like two brave Indians.We both would do anything together.Catherine's big round eyes widened even further as Murray painted the chairs jet black.She said, "Ah, the chairs are lined up for the funeral." She told me many things about her personal life.She told me because she trusted me. Catherine and Lawrence and Murray found a good place.This is a very nice place.There, we can all live fully and happily.This is Rananim. Lawrence ponders the new spiritual stuff we live out there.Murray was thinking of the ship and equipment that would take us to Rananim Island.Catherine thought of all the luggage we were taking with us.We talked for hours about Rananim. In Cornwall we got on very well with the Murrays.Once, when Catherine came to my house, she was surprised to see a tall digitalis growing on the little window stool.Later, whenever I saw digitalis, I was sure to think of Catherine. One day, we bathed in the bright sunshine and rowed a boat to the sea, and sang the Canon: row, row, row, your boat slowly drifting down, Joy, joy, joy, Life is but a dream. I don't understand why this canon moved me so emotionally at the time.The language of the singing is incomprehensible and expressive.I sang the song so badly that Lawrence called me out. We really have a lot ahead of us.And these things are excellent.At that time we were extremely poor and had no reputation.But we are full of ideals and optimism.However, Lawrence frequently contradicted all this at the time.His ideals are like worthless vapours.The only truth is war.He felt that the war brought all the base factors to the top, and the war put all things in front of them.His soul is to be strictly understood, but in the end the soul depends only on his beliefs, only on gods which he does not know. I know, he's going to get it.I also know that no matter how miserable I am, no matter how miserable he makes me, there is a man who is tormented by his own delusion. He wants people to be what God made them to be, and wants them not to be offended, to keep their talents and to adapt to the world quietly.He didn't embed me in type.I hate doing that.We were poor, but he didn't ask me to do that.He said, "People should do whatever they want, as long as they like it. That way they can do it well." In the first year of the Great War, the atmosphere of war in Cornwall was not strong.However, the atmosphere of war gradually enveloped everything around us, like an octopus slowly but surely extending its tentacles.Doubt and fear surround us.It's a bit like circling a swamp inhaling the stench. I remember, once, sitting with Lawrence on the rocks on the coast near our cottage in Tregarson.I'm about to be intoxicated by the air and the sun.I couldn't help jumping up and running, and the wind blew up my white skirt.Lawrence cried, "Hey, stop, you fool, don't run away! Don't you understand? People will think you are tipping the enemy." I forgot all about the war at that moment. There was a nasty inspector from St. Ives who came to our cottage several times and went over Lawrence's papers to see if Lawrence was really English and if his parents were really British .This inspector once said to me, "Hey, ma'am, you can tell me straight up, but unfortunately you can't." But when I brought the fava beans, When peas were offered to him, he accepted them.The vegetable patch produced a good crop, and many people ate vegetables from the patch during the war. Katie Bellman is our reliable friend. Her saffron-flavored pastries and roasted whole rabbit are delicacies that we really love. We were poor because Lawrence couldn't take care of himself and his work at a time when profiteers were prosperous and speculation was rife.He had gone to Arnold Bennett and said, "You seem to have a high opinion of me and my talents, would you give me something to do." Arnold Bennett replied, "Yes, I think highly of your talents, but that doesn't mean I should give you a job." The Great War almost drove Lawrence into complete disappointment.He had been summoned in connection with the trial of the publications.Later, he said to me about it, "You probably don't understand how miserable it is for men to wear shirts." He was able to go back to his cabin, to go back to me, he How happy. Lawrence liked the people at nearby Tregarson Farm.Their Celtic appearance attracted him.He could spend hours chatting to the farmer's eldest son, the ruddy and handsome William Henry. At that time, Lawrence ignored me, probably because he thought I had an indelible German smell.In that deserted Cornish moor, in that granite cottage, I tasted solitude.Lawrence often left me at dusk to go to the farm alone.There, he chatted with William Henry and taught French to Henry's brother Stanley.Use this to pass the time. Sometimes, he comes back in the middle of the night.The door swung open in the dark, as if a local dead spirit or ghost had entered my cabin.Because of my loneliness, I seem to hear young people on the battlefield calling to me, "Help me, save me, I'm dying, I'm dying." A woman like Catherine of Narada would take matters into her own hands, but what woman can stop an oncoming object or avoid it these days? Later, Lawrence came home to argue with me.It was as if he was angry with me, who was as isolated and hopeless and sad as he was. Hope and trust arise only from man's despair and desperation.And the outside world is only getting more sinister. I thought of the time we came home from Zeno with Lawrence's knapsack full of Katie Bellman's bread.The Coast Guard suddenly jumped in front of us from behind the hedge and said, "Let me see your packs, do you have a camera." Laurence was so angry that he almost fainted.I opened the rucksack and held the bread up to their noses.Even if they hanged me at once, I would show them my contempt.I think they're trying to hang me. It's not for nothing that Lawrence is sometimes driven mad by the strange things going on around us.It was his nature to be impartial.I knew he was helpless, and as all he believed in was lost, he took up the spirit of England with his genius.He was entrusted with the task that should give Britain a new direction. As long as the war can end.But the war is still going on, everywhere, and there is no way out.One evening at Cecil Gray's "Bossigran" we heard a knock at the door as we sat down after dinner.Four coast guards stood outside the door."The lights are leaking," they said. Gray was upset, but it was true.He hired a new maid from London.The lights of this maid's bedroom can be seen from the sea. I was shaking with terror as we stood.Because I was previously suspected of feeding the crew of a German submarine.Whatever their suspicions, we were then desperately poor—if we gave the submarine a biscuit a day, we might be able to afford it, but we couldn't afford any more. I was secretly delighted to see the coast guards covered in mud.They fell into a ditch while spying under the window. Fortunately, Gray's uncle was an admiral.This relationship saved him, and it saved us.When Lawrence asked what was going on, he only glanced at the men.They also have to eavesdrop and peep under other people's windows, and their work is busy enough. Three or four days later, I returned to my home from Bossigran.Lawrence went to Penzance and was not with me.I walked into the house alone in the dark sky.Once inside, I instinctively sensed that something was going on, and I panicked.I trembled and walked towards the farm.Sure enough, there I heard that two people had business with us. Lawrence, who came back later, did not understand my panic, and I was disturbed by many premonitions. Early the next morning, an officer came, two detectives, and of course the police.The officer read to us orders that we must leave Cornwall within three days. Lawrence, who was easily upset, was extremely calm at this time. He asked, "Why?" The officer replied, "You know better than I do." Lawrence said, "I don't know." Then the two menacing detectives searched all our belongings: kitchen racks, clothes, beds, etc.At this time, I can only be angry, like a fool. I said, "That's the liberty of you Englishmen. We live here and we don't do anyone any harm, but what's the matter with these fellows coming here to rummage about our private property?" "Be quiet," Lawrence said. He was unusually calm.However, his British blade pierced his soul again.And I know that he suffers deeper and more seriously than I do. The policeman who came was my friend, and he stood behind us sympathetically.How sad I am, I really want to give up on myself.But all to no avail.We left Cornwall like two sinners.Lawrence has always been something of an odd man since we were expelled from Cornwall. We went to London and stayed at H.D.'s bungalow on Mecklenburg Square.There is a very large room there.Richard Aldington was also home at the time.In the evening, we got together very lively. I don't understand how they can be so elated. Lawrence invented brilliant word puzzles.We play a game called "Eden".Lawrence as "God", D.H as tree, Aldington as Adam, and I as snake, this role is not very good. A few days later Cynthia Asquith entertained us in the splendid booth in Corbent Park which Mrs Gunnard had lent her. Lawrence trimmed his beard short.We dress gorgeously and go to listen to Aida. At that time, almost no one wanted to make friends with us.I'm a Hun and people don't like Lawrence either. At that time, just as London was being bombed by air, people were extremely nervous.When the air raid came, I would go to the basement, but Lawrence always refused to go there.He stays in bed.It's depressing to be in a basement with depressed people.So, when the air raid came, I ran up and down trying to persuade Lawrence to get down to the basement.But he just didn't go down. At that time, we met Gertler.He told us anecdotes about what happened to him during the air raids.Especially loves to tell stories about how he ran up and down the stairs of his house in a panic and for no apparent reason when the air raids suddenly appeared.Camille also tells of an air raid adventure: once, he taught terrified teenage girls returning home from a party in Heath, Hampstead, how to dodge an air raid. However, amidst all these joyous emotions, we also felt such tediousness and hardship. "Dancing during the burning of Rome", however, even if Nero is happy that Rome is burning, we are not happy.And, Lawrence is savage at heart because he can't stop the lava flow of death, thereby saving the best of humanity. I am very troubled... Living is very troublesome, and living with him is even more troublesome. I have no one to rely on, but a burden, a hindrance to Lawrence. I am the wife of a Huns living in a foreign land. Later, we went to Hermitage in Berkshire.It is a peaceful countryside with many trees.The simplicity of our life in the cottage worked in his favour. I met my son who went to military school.I was afraid that he would fight with his own relatives, so I said, "I'll hide you in a cave or in the woods. Mother doesn't want you to fight, or die in this stupid war." However, he was only indignant some. We were under constant surveillance by detectives.Detectives even went to my ex-husband to find out if he knew anything against me. When we were in the Hermitage, the war was over.I think that peace is probably coming.Yet there was no peace, and it has not been peace so far.The Great War created deformed children of terrible abhorrence and condemnation, and left them as peaceful people who only wished for death.