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D H Lawrence, 1885–1930 David Herbert Lawrence was born the fourth child of five, of a miner in a coal-mining village some ten miles from Nottingham.

His father had married above himself to a woman who had almost become a schoolteacher.

John Lawrence was instinctively scornful of those ‘stool-arsed jacks’, like his younger son.

‘Bert’ grew up with twin heritages, twin dialects, and radically conflicting ideas as to what life was about. He left school at sixteen and got himself a clerical position with a firm in Nottingham which sold surgical goods.

This was more or less Constance Chatterley's position. She married Clifford Chatterley in 1917, when he was home for a month on leave. Then he went back to Flanders: to be shipped over to England again six months later, more or less in bits, with the lower half of his body, from the hips down, paralysed for ever.

Constance, was then twenty-three years old, and he was twenty-nine. They returned, Clifford and Constance, to his home, Wragby Hall, the family 'seat'. On the contrary, I've had a very nice experience, very nice indeed! 'Well, then, we're quits, because I liked yours.' 'Shall us go i' th' 'ut?

As recorded in , Mrs Lawrence transferred her radio-active affection to her second son. Paul’s last, whispered word in the novel, is the Strindbergian ejaculation, ‘mother! There were, as he left his teenage years behind him, other women in his life – most importantly Jessie Chambers.

A farmer’s daughter, well educated, with a fine sensibility she collaborated with him on his early writing.

Lydia Lawrence was uninterested in her sons until they outgrew childhood and could qualify as ‘lovers’---adults, that is.

His poor health and his mother’s tenacious grip led to his staying close to home as a pupil-teacher in Eastwood for three years.

He performed well enough to go on to Nottingham University and enrol for a teaching certificate.

The Lawrences voyaged and journeyed to and through Italy, Mexico, New Mexico, Australasia, Ceylon, and the US. The dreaded word was no longer avoidable but such was his formidable vitality that he kept death at bay, defying the predictions of his doctors, for five more years.

What shocked genteel English society in Lady Chatterley was not just an aristocratic woman having a relationship with a social inferior, but the indecent exposure of upper-class sexual habits with their preference for dynasty above love, and, worst of all, that in a new, affordable 'Penguin' paperback, the lower orders could read about it. Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. And she put her arms round him under his shirt, but she was afraid, afraid of his thin, smooth, naked body, that seemed so powerful, afraid of the violent muscles.