Gradually she began really to sleep. She slept in the confidence of her new reality. She slept breathing with her soul the new air of a new world. The peace was very deep and enrichening. She had her root in new ground, she was gradually absorbed into growth.
When she woke at last it seemed as if a new day had come on the earth. How long, how long had she fought through the dust and obscurity, for this new dawn? How frail and fine and clear she felt, like the most fragile flower that opens in the end of winter. But the pole of night was turned and the dawn was coming in.
Very far off was her old experience—Skrebensky, her parting with him—very far off. Some things were real; those first glamorous weeks. Before, these had seemed like hallucination. Now they seemed like common reality. The rest was unreal. She knew that Skrebensky had never become finally real. In the weeks of passionate ecstasy he had been with her in her desire, she had created him for the time being. But in the end he had failed and broken down.
Strange, what a void separated him and her. She liked him now, as she liked a memory, some bygone self. He was something of the past, finite. He was that which is known. She felt a poignant affection for him, as for that which is past. But, when she looked with her face forward, he was not. Nay, when she looked ahead, into the undiscovered land before her, what was there she could recognise but a fresh glow of light and inscrutable trees going up from the earth like smoke. It was the unknown, the unexplored, the undiscovered upon whose shore she had landed, alone, after crossing the void, the darkness which washed the New World and the Old.
There would be no child: she was glad. If there had been a child, it would have made little difference, however. She would have kept the child and herself, she would not have gone to Skrebensky. Anton belonged to the past.
There came the cablegram from Skrebensky: ‘I am married.’ An old pain and anger and contempt stirred in her. Did he belong so utterly to the cast-off past? She repudiated him. He was as he was. It was good that he was as he was. Who was she to have a man according to her own desire? It was not for her to create, but to recognise a man created by God. The man should come from the Infinite and she should hail him. She was glad she could not create her man. She was glad she had nothing to do with his creation. She was glad that this lay within the scope of that vaster power in which she rested at last. The man would come out of Eternity to which she herself belonged.
As she grew better, she sat to watch a new creation. As she sat at her window, she saw the people go by in the street below, colliers, women, children, walking each in the husk of an old fruition, but visible through the husk, the swelling and the heaving contour of the new germination. In the still, silenced forms of the colliers she saw a sort of suspense, a waiting in pain for the new liberation; she saw the same in the false hard confidence of the women. The confidence of the women was brittle. It would break quickly to reveal the strength and patient effort of the new germination.
In everything she saw she grasped and groped to find the creation of the living God, instead of the old, hard barren form of bygone living. Sometimes great terror possessed her. Sometimes she lost touch, she lost her feeling, she could only know the old horror of the husk which bound in her and all mankind. They were all in prison, they were all going mad.
She saw the stiffened bodies of the colliers, which seemed already enclosed in a coffin, she saw their unchanging eyes, the eyes of those who are buried alive: she saw the hard, cutting edges of the new houses, which seemed to spread over the hillside in their insentient triumph, the triumph of horrible, amorphous angles and straight lines, the expression of corruption triumphant and unopposed, corruption so pure that it is hard and brittle: she saw the dun atmosphere over the blackened hills opposite, the dark blotches of houses, slate roofed and amorphous, the old church-tower standing up in hideous obsoleteness above raw new houses on the crest of the hill, the amorphous, brittle, hard edged new houses advancing from Beldover to meet the corrupt new houses from Lethley, the houses of Lethley advancing to mix with the houses of Hainor, a dry, brittle, terrible corruption spreading over the face of the land, and she was sick with a nausea so deep that she perished as she sat. And then, in the blowing clouds, she saw a band of faint iridescence colouring in faint colours a portion of the hill. And forgetting, startled, she looked for the hovering colour and saw a rainbow forming itself. In one place it gleamed fiercely, and, her heart anguished with hope, she sought the shadow of iris where the bow should be. Steadily the colour gathered, mysteriously, from nowhere, it took presence upon itself, there was a faint, vast rainbow. The arc bended and strengthened itself till it arched indomitable, making great architecture of light and colour and the space of heaven, its pedestals luminous in the corruption of new houses on the low hill, its arch the top of heaven.
And the rainbow stood on the earth.* She knew that the sordid people who crept hard-scaled and separate on the face of the world’s corruption were living still, that the rainbow was arched in their blood and would quiver to life in their spirit, that they would cast off their horny covering of disintegration, that new, clean, naked bodies would issue to a new germination, to a new growth, rising to the light and the wind and the clean rain of heaven. She saw in the rainbow the earth’s new architecture, the old, brittle corruption of houses and factories swept away, the world built up in a living fabric of Truth, fitting to the overarching heaven.
EXPLANATORY NOTES
Any editor of The Rainbow must be extremely grateful for the indispensable work of Mark Kinkead-Weekes in producing his edition of this novel for the Cambridge Edition of the works of D. H. Lawrence. I have acknowledged specific points of indebtedness below.
To Else: the dedication is to Frieda Weekley’s elder sister, Else Jaffe (1874–1973) perhaps partly in gratitude for her support to Lawrence and Frieda in their elopement; perhaps a gesture explaining Lawrence’s views about marriage to her; perhaps homage to her success as an independent ‘new woman’. Lawrence was talked out of having this dedication in German and in Gothic script, which would have been somewhat provocative in 1915. See Letters, ii. 349 (31 May 1915) and ii. 354 (6 June 1915).
Ilkeston: Ilkeston is an actual town in Derbyshire, just over from the Nottinghamshire border. It grew rapidly during the nineteenth century, from 4,446 in 1831 to 19,774 by 1881.
Cossethay: based on the village of Cossall, near Ilkeston.
Shelly Hall: probably based on Strelley Hall, c. 2 miles east of Cossall.
Odyssey: Greek epic poem, by Homer. The poem traces the return of the hero Odysseus (Ulysses in Latin) to Ithaca after the sack of Troy: he is distracted en route by the enchantress Circe who turns his men into swine. Back home in Ithaca, his wife Penelope waits for him, putting off the suitors between whom she promises to choose by saying that she will make her choice when she has completed her weaving: each night she unpicks the threads of the fabric that she has woven in that day.
About 1840, a canal was constructed: since 1739, there had been a colliery near Cossall: the coming of the Midland Counties Railway in 1840 opened up enormous possibilities of new markets for this coal, and the number of seams was increased. This led to the construction of new canal branches, which joined up with the Nottingham Canal (opened 1796).
winding engines: the mechanism used to raise the produce of a mine, by means of ropes and cages, and to transport miners to and from the bottom of a shaft.
lace-factory in Nottingham: Nottingham became a centre for factory-made lace from the mid-1840s.
pedgill: to work in a detailed fashion.
Tennyson’s ‘Ulysses’, or Shelley’s ‘Ode to the West Wind’: Alfred Tennyson’s (1809–92) ‘Ulysses’ (1842) and Percy Bysshe Shelley’s (1792–1822) ‘Ode to the West Wind’ (1820) were, according to Jessie Chambers, among Lawrence’s favourite poems: E. T.: D. H. Lawrence: A Personal Record (1935; repr. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980), 95 and 99.
‘You can join… five foot eight’: in October 1914 this heigh
t limit was reduced to 5ft. 5in., and the next month to 5ft. 3in.
David and Jonathan: 1 Samuel 18: 1. Jonathan was the son of Saul, David Saul’s appointed successor as king of Israel: the joining of their names typifies close friendship.
mardy: soft, spoiled.
Prometheus Bound: Prometheus, in Aeschylus’ tragedy Prometheus Bound, stole fire from the chariot of the sun. For this, the god Zeus condemned him to endless torture, chained to a rock and pecked at by the god’s eagle.
my outgoing and my incoming: a common biblical phrase: cf. 2 Samuel 3: 25; 2 Kings 19: 27; Psalm 121: 8; Isaiah 37; Ezekiel 43:11.
light-o’-love: sexually promiscuous woman.
Matlock… Bakewell: fashionable spas and centres for day trips (especially after the opening of the railway to Matlock in 1849), surrounded by picturesque countryside, in the Derbyshire Peak District.
straddle-leg: astride (as opposed to side-saddle, which would have been normal for women at this time).
this road: this way.
bird-lime: a glutinous substance spread on twigs to trap birds.
What the Hanover!: mild form of ‘what the hell’.
britching: from ‘breeching’, the strong leather strap round the hindquarters of a horse in harness, against which the horse leans to take the weight when going downhill.
riddle-skulled: with a brain like a sieve.
menagerie confabulation: conference of animals: i.e. (by inference) nonsense.
summat: something.
fuzz-ball: dandelion head.
axed: asked.
Sluther: hurry.
middlin’: fairly, tolerably.
a large leaf: probably a cabbage or rhubarb leaf, used for wrapping butter.
to put in: put a word in.
not clutterin’ at the nipple: not sucking messily; i.e. Lydia is no child.
ravel: tangle.
Warsaw and in the rebellion afterwards: Poland was partitioned in 1772, 1793, and 1795, with the greater part of the country going to Russia. Following two unsuccessful rebellions in 1831 and 1836, the professionals and the impoverished landed gentry joined forces against Russia by forming a National Central Committee. General unrest broke out into full-scale rebellion in January 1863 over the introduction of conscription; like the earlier rebellions, this was brutally put down.
the dark, savage, mystic ride of dread, of death: perhaps the Ride of the Valkyries, who, in Scandinavian mythology, were Odin’s messengers, charged with killing the heroes selected for death in battle, and conducting them, when dead, to Valhalla.
Underworld… shades: in pagan mythology, the shades are disembodied spirits, inhabitants of Hades.
mezereon tree: in fact, a low shrub, Daphne mezereum, found in Europe and Asia, with purplish or rose-coloured flowers, and red berries.
pea-flower: actually pea-flour, made from dried peas, put among flowering plants as extra food for the bees.
his trial… Gethsemane and his Triumphal Entry: the events leading up to Christ’s crucifixion: see Mark 15, 14, 11; Matthew 27, 26, 21.
fichu: a triangular piece of material, worn as a covering for the neck, throat, and shoulders.
filles: lit. girls; here prostitutes.
toiling at the mill with slaves: cf. John Milton, Samson Agonistes (c. 1647), 1. 41.
hustle: hurry up.
thysen: yourself.
Topsy: the small African-American girl in Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1852), an extremely popular novel in Victorian England.
nobbut: not but; only.
pitted: stored in pits.
one flesh: cf. Mark 10: 8 where Christ refers to Genesis 2: 24.
broken rock: Moses brought water from a rock in the desert (Numbers 20: 11), seen as a prefiguration of the life-giving blood and water which spilled from Christ’s side when pierced by a soldier’s spear (John 19: 34).
paisley shawl: manufactured in Paisley, Renfrewshire, and based on patterns from India and the Far East. It was particularly fashionable during the 1830s.
its own swivel: a swivel is a simple fastening or coupling device, made so that the object fastened to it can turn freely upon it.
Old King Cole … the old woman who lived in a shoe: nurseryrhyme characters.
‘When the pie… set before a king?’: from the nursery rhyme ‘Sing a Song of Sixpence’.
Pocketful of posies… Ascha!: lines from a different nursery rhyme (‘Ring-a-ring-a-roses A pocketful of posies’). ‘Ascha!’ is a form of ‘Atishoo!’.
rarely: extremely well.
fawce: bright, quick-witted.
Black Swan: in Goose Gate, Nottingham.
stirks: young bullock or heifer (in Nottinghamshire, usually heifer) between 1 and 2 years old.
met: might.
covered-in market: the new Derby market, built in 1864.
wambling: walking unsteadily.
Herbert Spencer: Herbert Spencer (1820–1903); positivist thinker and pioneering sociologist; committed to evolutionary theory.
Browning: Robert Browning (1812–89): poet, popularly considered ‘difficult’ and progressive.
transfiguration… glorification… admission: cf. Luke 9: 28—36.
the house was finished, and the Lord took up his abode: cf. the creation of the Temple in 2 Chronicles 5: 1 and 1 Kings 8: 13, and the creation by Christ of a more figurative temple in the souls of believers.
the pillar of fire and the pillar of cloud: the two signs given by God to Moses as he led the Israelites out of Egypt, to guide them by day and by night: Exodus 8: 21–2.
dame’s school: a small private elementary school.
in fee: hereditary or feudal obligation: in other words, Anna still felt obliged to her mother and stepfather.
Baron Skrebensky: Skrebensky was the name of one of Frieda Weekley’s ancestors. The Baron of the novel is based on Baron Rodolph von Hube (c.1834–1910), a Polish Nationalist who came to England and was installed as vicar of Greasley in 1866.
Mr Gladstone: William Ewart Gladstone (1809–98), Prime Minister 1868–74, 1880, 1886, and 1892.
knight of Malta: a member of the Order of St John, founded during the crusades and, by the nineteenth century, devoted to charitable works.
a young ladies’ school in Nottingham: p. 155 makes it clear that this was Nottingham High School for Girls, established by the Girls’ Public Day School Trust in 1875, one of their earliest high schools outside London.
bagatelle: trivial, silly. Also a board on which a ball is propelled around or into metal pegs, like an early form of pin-ball: hence Will’s remark.
‘As You Like It’: Shakespeare’s play (c.1599) is also read by Ursula (p. 332).
Alexandra, Princess of Wales: a famous beauty of her time, Princess Alexandra (1844–1925) accompanied her husband, the Prince of Wales, when he opened Nottingham Castle Museum and Gallery in 1878.
Goose Fair: Nottingham’s annual fair, held since the thirteenth century in September or early October. See Lawrence’s early short story, ‘The Goose Fair’ (1909).
Ave Maria and a Pater Noster: the first of these prayers uses the words of the Angel at the Annunciation, from the Latin of the Vulgate. The Latin here translates: ‘Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou among women and blessed is Jesus, the fruit of thy womb. Hail Mary, Holy Mary, pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of our death.’ Lawrence misquotes the Latin: ‘Ave Maria, Sancta Maria’ should read ‘Sancta Maria, Mater Dei’—‘Holy Mary, Mother of God’. ‘Pater Noster’ are the first (Latin) words of the Lord’s Prayer: ‘Our Father…’.