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- Авторы
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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 166/388
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England
,
my
England
!
But
which
is
my
England
?
The
stately
homes
of
England
make
good
photographs
,
and
create
the
illusion
of
a
connexion
with
the
Elizabethans
.
The
handsome
old
halls
are
there
,
from
the
days
of
Good
Queen
Anne
and
Tom
Jones
.
But
smuts
fall
and
blacken
on
the
drab
stucco
,
that
has
long
ceased
to
be
golden
.
And
one
by
one
,
like
the
stately
homes
,
they
were
abandoned
.
Now
they
are
being
pulled
down
.
As
for
the
cottages
of
England
-
-
there
they
are
-
-
great
plasterings
of
brick
dwellings
on
the
hopeless
countryside
.
’
Now
they
are
pulling
down
the
stately
homes
,
the
Georgian
halls
are
going
.
Fritchley
,
a
perfect
old
Georgian
mansion
,
was
even
now
,
as
Connie
passed
in
the
car
,
being
demolished
.
It
was
in
perfect
repair
:
till
the
war
the
Weatherleys
had
lived
in
style
there
.
But
now
it
was
too
big
,
too
expensive
,
and
the
country
had
become
too
uncongenial
.
The
gentry
were
departing
to
pleasanter
places
,
where
they
could
spend
their
money
without
having
to
see
how
it
was
made
.
’
This
is
history
.
One
England
blots
out
another
.
The
mines
had
made
the
halls
wealthy
.
Now
they
were
blotting
them
out
,
as
they
had
already
blotted
out
the
cottages
.
The
industrial
England
blots
out
the
agricultural
England
.
One
meaning
blots
out
another
.
The
new
England
blots
out
the
old
England
.
And
the
continuity
is
not
Organic
,
but
mechanical
.
Connie
,
belonging
to
the
leisured
classes
,
had
clung
to
the
remnants
of
the
old
England
.
It
had
taken
her
years
to
realize
that
it
was
really
blotted
out
by
this
terrifying
new
and
gruesome
England
,
and
that
the
blotting
out
would
go
on
till
it
was
complete
.
Fritchley
was
gone
,
Eastwood
was
gone
,
Shipley
was
going
:
Squire
Winter
’
s
beloved
Shipley
.
Connie
called
for
a
moment
at
Shipley
.
The
park
gates
,
at
the
back
,
opened
just
near
the
level
crossing
of
the
colliery
railway
;
the
Shipley
colliery
itself
stood
just
beyond
the
trees
.
The
gates
stood
open
,
because
through
the
park
was
a
right
-
of
-
way
that
the
colliers
used
.
They
hung
around
the
park
.
The
car
passed
the
ornamental
ponds
,
in
which
the
colliers
threw
their
newspapers
,
and
took
the
private
drive
to
the
house
.
It
stood
above
,
aside
,
a
very
pleasant
stucco
building
from
the
middle
of
the
eighteenth
century
.
It
had
a
beautiful
alley
of
yew
trees
,
that
had
approached
an
older
house
,
and
the
hall
stood
serenely
spread
out
,
winking
its
Georgian
panes
as
if
cheerfully
.
Behind
,
there
were
really
beautiful
gardens
.
Connie
liked
the
interior
much
better
than
Wragby
.
It
was
much
lighter
,
more
alive
,
shapen
and
elegant
.
The
rooms
were
panelled
with
creamy
painted
panelling
,
the
ceilings
were
touched
with
gilt
,
and
everything
was
kept
in
exquisite
order
,
all
the
appointments
were
perfect
,
regardless
of
expense
.
Even
the
corridors
managed
to
be
ample
and
lovely
,
softly
curved
and
full
of
life
.
But
Leslie
Winter
was
alone
.
He
had
adored
his
house
.
But
his
park
was
bordered
by
three
of
his
own
collieries
.
He
had
been
a
generous
man
in
his
ideas
.
He
had
almost
welcomed
the
colliers
in
his
park
.
Had
the
miners
not
made
him
rich
!
So
,
when
he
saw
the
gangs
of
unshapely
men
lounging
by
his
ornamental
waters
-
-
not
in
the
private
part
of
the
park
,
no
,
he
drew
the
line
there
-
-
he
would
say
:
’
the
miners
are
perhaps
not
so
ornamental
as
deer
,
but
they
are
far
more
profitable
.
’
But
that
was
in
the
golden
-
-
monetarily
-
-
latter
half
of
Queen
Victoria
’
s
reign
.
Miners
were
then
’
good
working
men
’
.
