Lawrence's Sons and Lovers: A Psychoanalytic Approach

        "It was like a circle where life turned back on itself, and got no farther. She bore him, loved him, kept him, and his love turned back into her, so that he could not be free to go forward with his own life, really love another woman" (345). This passage from D. H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers suggests the tragic circumstances associated with protagonist Paul Morel's quest for emotional fulfillment. Lawrence uses contrast, symbolism, and irony to make a poignant statement about the elusive nature of love in early twentieth-century British society. Resentful of his father, the hero suffers as a pawn in the Oedipal clutches of his mother, the unthinking passion of Clara Dawes and the overwhelming spiritual dominance of Miriam Leivers. Torn between a woman who can never understand him and another who sacrifices herself for him fills him with guilt and remorse. Morel feels trapped and unable to relinquish his genetic ties to his mother. This metaphysical tension between his instinctual connection with Gertrude and physical-spiritual forces of these three women form a triangle which tragically influences his behavior until the death of his mother compels him to choose them or the freedom to pave his own existential way. As Freud writes in his General Introduction to Psychoanalysis ( Garden City Publishing Company, Inc. 1938), "From the time of puberty onward the human individual must devote himself to the great task of freeing himself from the parents; and only after this detachment is accomplished can he cease to be a child and so become a member of the social community. For a son, the task consists in releasing his libidinal desires from his mother, in order to employ them in the quest of an external love-object in reality; and in reconciling himself with his father if he has remained antagonistic to him, or in freeing himself from his domination if, in the reaction to the infantile revolt, he has lapsed into subservience to him. These tasks are laid down for every man; it is noteworthy how seldom they are solved in a manner psychologically as well as socially satisfactory. In neurotics, however, this detachment from the parents is not accomplished at all; the son remains all his life in subjection to his father, and incapable of transferring his libido to a new sexual object" (Freud 295). In Lawrence's own words, "Being the sons of mothers whose husbands had blundered rather brutally through their feminine sanctities, they were themselves too diffident and shy. They could easier deny themselves than incur any reproach from a woman; for a woman was like their mother, and they were full of the sense of their mother. They preferred themselves to suffer the misery of celibacy, rather than risk the other person" (278). Paul's awareness of his need for this detachment denotes the initial phase of his psychological quest, one which ironically commences with the death of his mother. Even then, however, he realizes that her presence will always live within him as a source of hope and inspiration. In his desperation, Morel thinks to himself, "Everywhere the vastness and terror of the immense night which is roused and stirred for a brief while by the day, but which returns, and will remain at last eternal, holding everything in its silence and its living gloom. There was no Time, only Space. Who could say his mother had lived and did not live? She had been in one place, and was in another; that was all. And his soul could not leave her, wherever she was. Now she was gone abroad into the night, and he was with her still. They were together." In his early years, Paul recognizes his affinity with his mother. According to Lawrence, "He was so conscious of what other people felt, particularly his mother. When she fretted he understood, and could have no peace. His soul seemed always attentive to her" (57).The inseparable nature of this young man's spiritual and emotional union with his mother constitutes the essence of Lawrence's tragedy, that man is bound by a genetic predisposition which renders him a helpless victim. Morel's struggle through separation and transformation leaves him at a crossroads, much like Oedipus, from which he must abandon "the darkness" leading to his mother in favor of the light of "the faintly humming, glowing town." Here, the author uses the "gold phosphorescence" of the city to symbolize his optimism (420).

             Lawrence uses Gertrude Morel as a symbol of the life force which motivates and inspires the hero to achieve. She serves as the muse or creative energy which also acts as a stabilizing force in Paul Morel 's life. In essence, the mother provides the source of growth and fulfillment, what Freud calls the libido. In essence, she forms a fundamental part of his personality, which when denied or repressed, results in confusion, neurosis, and cruelty. This principle accounts for the protagonist's erratic behavior which he himself struggles to understand. Lawrence begins novel by contrasting the father and darkness of the mining environment with the beauty of the flowers associated with Morel home. The author describes "Hell Row" and the "little black places among the corn-fields" as a sinister place "which through growing old had acquired and evil reputation" (1). The houses, however, were fronted with gardens of auriculas, saxifrage, sweet-williams, and pinks (2). Like Eustacia Vye in Hardy's The  Return of the Native, Gertrude Morel is a cultured and refined young woman tragically out of place in the surrounding mining communities. She too quickly becomes dissatisfied with the coarseness of the villagers and crudeness in her husband; and, consequently, transfers her affection to her sons, whom she vows to keep far away from the mines (52). Thus, Lawrence sets the tone for the older Morel sons' resentment of their father. The author contrasts the rise of industrialism with the culture and refinement of the aristocracy, a class to which Gertrude had been accustomed (7). The stress of monetary difficulties, low wages (78), and her husband's drinking habits, and poverty conditions (79) force the mother to make heroic sacrifices for her family which ingratiates her to the children (6). As Lawrence expresses it, "Mrs. Morel was alone, but she was used to it. Her son and her little girl slept upstairs; so, it seemed, her home was there behind her, fixed and stable. But she felt wretched with the coming child. The world seemed a dreary place, where nothing else would happen for her—at least until William grew up. But for herself nothing but this dreary endurance—till the children grew up. And the children! She could not afford to have this third. She did not want it. The father was serving beer in a public house, swilling himself drunk. She despised him, and was tied to him . . . the prospect of her life made her feel as if she were buried alive" (5). Lawrence also contrasts the physical strength and attraction of Morel with his deeply religious, intellectual wife (9). He describes her as a beautiful blue-eyed "puritan" charmed by her husband's "sensuous flame of life, that flowed off his flesh like the flame from a candle" (8). Gertrude struggles to make him religious and "to face things," but her efforts do not succeed, and he "could not endure it" (14). When Morel cuts young William's "beautiful curls" to make him look more like a man, she rebels, and "ceases to fret over his love." The author describes this act as the final "thorn in her side," a biblical allusion suggesting the wife's final emotional break with her husband. When Walter Morel was drinking and arguing with her at home, Lawrence says that "there was a feeling of misery all over the house," and that the "children breathed the air that was poisoned" and "felt dreary," not knowing what to do (41). Psychologically, this union of mind and body fails to produce the ideal complement.

            Gertrude's initial attraction to Morel appears to be guided by fate, just as Paul's subsequent attachment to her. Lawrence even goes so far as to say, "The pity was, she was too much his opposite" (16). Like the cry for "more money" in his short story "The Rocking Horse Winner," the atmosphere in this house also exudes cruelty and deceit. Ironically, Lawrence's young hero in this story is also named Paul, a young boy in a dysfunctional family who gives his life to please a demanding mother. In psychological terms, the resentment toward the father and subsequent competition for the mother is a natural process through which all must pass in order to grow and mature. As Freud suggests, "But since all men and not only neurotic persons have perverse, incestuous, and murderous dreams of this kind, we may infer that those who are normal today have also made the passage through the perversions and the object-investments of the Oedipus complex; and that this is the path of normal development" (Freud 296). For instance, when his father is injured in a mining accident and taken to Keston Station (85), Paul expresses joyfully to his mother, "I'm the man of the house now" (88). This form of competition explains the eagerness of both William and Paul Morel to replace his father as the chief object of his mother's affection. Like the youth on the rocking horse, Paul Morel is also determined to please his mother, even if he has to set aside his dreams and toil in a factory (102-103). Speaking though Paul, the author contrasts the constrained industrial conditions with peaceful nature imagery: "Then he looked wistfully out of the window. Already he was a prisoner of industrialism. Large sunflowers stared over the old red wall of the garden opposite, looking in their jolly way down on the women who were hurrying with something for dinner. The valley was full of corn, brightening in the sun. Two collieries, among the fields, waved their small white plumes of steam. Far off on the hills were the woods of Annesley, dark and fascinating. Already his heart went down. He was being taken into bondage. His freedom in the beloved home valley was going now" (89). Lawrence here uses nature to reinforce his tone of loss on both a personal and national scale.

             In Sons and Lovers, Lawrence uses nature imagery to suggest the contrast between Gertrude's life and Morel's. The beauty of the glowing of the setting sun, the children playing in the meadow before dusk, the mountain ash berries standing "fierily from the dark leaves, and the corn standing up as if alive momentarily efface the "small worries and give her the peace and strength to see herself. " The corn standing proudly in the field reminds her of Joseph's dream in which the younger brother all fall down and worship him. Lawrence uses this biblical allusion to reveal the mother's aspiration for her newborn son. Ironically, the sorrowful expression on infant Paul's face foreshadows the pain and anguish that he will experience. His sad countenance, instead, fills her with grief and guilt that she and her husband had brought another suffering human being into the world (36). In Thomas Hardy's Jude the Obscure, Jude also has a baby born with a similar expression which he and his wife ironically name Little Time, a title which aptly parallels the brief interval he is destined to remain with them on earth. Bewildered and overwhelmed by his own abandonment and the suffering of his parents, Little Time cannot understand why his mother is bringing another child into the world. To him, it seems better that children die and go directly to God rather than bear the hardship of life on earth (Hardy 302). With Paul Morel, the parallel is obvious. Nonetheless, Lawrence repeatedly uses the golden imagery of the sun to suggest hope and the prospect of rebirth.

            Lawrence uses irony to describe the conflicts in the love affairs of Gertrude's older sons. Though successful in business, William and Lily can only communicate on a physical level. William severely criticizes Lily when she visits the Morel home for a few days. He humiliates her by saying that she is uneducated, irresponsible, extravagant, and "could understand nothing but love-making and chatter" (130). William's cruelty suggests that his mother influence continues to dominate his inner life, and furthermore, reflects his inability to communicate with any woman except Gertrude. In essence, her influence over the eldest son renders him incapable of establishing or maintaining a meaningful relationship with the opposite sex. Ironically, it is William who has chosen Lily to be his wife, and who now feels morally trapped into fulfilling his marital obligation (130-131). The young man turns to his mother for advice, and is told that he "cannot grumble since he chose her" (134). Here again, Gertrude serves as the life force that guides and motivates the family. Tragically, William dies shortly afterward from pneumonia (136). Paul's relationship with Clara Dawes proves very similar. Only the physical attraction appeals to him. Clara realizes ultimately that "she never fully had him. Some part, big and vital in him, she had no hold over; nor did she ever try to get it, or even to realize what it was" (360). Miriam reaches the same conclusion, when he tells her that sacrificing herself is not what he wants, that he wants a mate, not a martyr. Her giving of herself fills him with guilt and humiliation (418). Neither could make the other into something different. At this point, Lawrence tolls a bell which signifies the end of their relationship. In Miriam's words, "He moved about the room with a certain sureness of touch swift and relentless and quiet. She knew she could not cope with him. He would escape like a weasel out of her hands. Yet without him her life would trail on lifeless. . . ." (418-419). Psychologically, Paul needs a balance between the physical and the spiritual; however, both of his options were extreme, with no room for compromise or emotional growth. When he leaves Miriam, Paul realizes that "the last hold on him had gone" and no longer does he have a place here. He is completely on his own. Lost and alone, Paul cries out to his mother because she has been his sole support and inspiration, but she is gone. He must now face life with the inner strength that he had gained from her. In the author's words, "But no, he would not give in. Turning sharply, he walked towards the city's gold phosphorescence. His fists were shut, his mouth set fast. He would not take that direction, to the darkness, to follow her. He walked towards the faintly humming, glowing town, quickly"(420). His choice denotes Lawrence's existential affirmation.

            Throughout the novel, Lawrence uses the theme of victimization to enhance the tragic dimensions of the story. Paul suffers from the instinctual impulses which dictate his behavior, forces which he neither understands nor controls. In this sense, his choices deceive his logic into rationalizing his emotional needs. Born a product of his mother's disposition, he naturally resents his father and is drawn toward the spiritual Miriam. Like Gertrude, the young lady possesses a comparable artistic sensibility and a need for acceptance. Their attraction appears inevitable because of the hero's affinity for women, particularly cultured ones like his mother. Miriam's desire to reform Paul spiritually fails because of her delusion that she can suffer for him in the same way that Christ suffered for others. In this sense, Miriam, Hebrew for Mary, serves as a kind of Archetypal Spiritual Guide, as the biblical allusion might suggest. Ironically, she can no more envision the possibility of a moral compromise than Paul can accept her idea of love in the place of his mother's. Miriam suffers from the illusion that she can rescue Paul like a damsel in distress. She mistakes gratitude for love and condescension for partnership. This is her picture of Christ and the ideal life. Thus, the problem exists in the characters' personalities, not in their choices. The tragic paradox also exists in the protagonist's knowledge that he can never completely leave her because she inspires him, yet living with her would prove self-destructive because of her refusal to accept him as he is. Her sacrifice fills him with guilt and humiliation rather than pride and devotion. In essence, man serves as a pawn driven by the dark forces of his inner nature. Miriam despairs when she realizes that her inability to hold Paul condemns her to a life and anguish, and he similarly recognizes that something in his disposition renders him incapable of loving anyone except his mother. The life of Clara Dawes proves equally unfortunate because of her unsuccessful marriage and loneliness. An unfaithful husband, vindictive mother, and impoverished lifestyle create in her a severe inferiority complex and a deep-seated hatred of men. Ironically, her physical beauty, coupled with intense loneliness, attracts Paul at a time in which he too is crying out for physical rather than spiritual gratification. Sadly, the relationship proves short-lived because Clara can no more understand Paul's intellectual dilemma than Morel can devote himself totally to her. As a result, she returns to Dawes who, despite his ineptitude, gives her his heart completely. Lawrence's irony of situation produces unique existential heroes who choose to adapt rather than comply, in a world of confusion and contradiction. Miriam determines to wait in anguish for Paul's return, and Clara decides to nurture and support a far "better man." Although Gertrude no longer advises Paul concerning earthly matters, her spiritual presence continues to guide and inspire him toward the light of a new life, in "the city's gold phosphorescence."

             Lawrence uses the ash tree as one of his most prominent symbols to represent the feelings of the characters at various stages of their development. For instance, when Paul's brother William returns home for Christmas, the Morels were anxious and concerned that he might be late. Lawrence personifies the ash by saying that it "moaned outside in the cold, raw wind." His use of nature imagery in this case corresponds with the mother's suffering and apprehension over her son's being late (81). In another instance, when Paul leaves home to start his first job as a clerk, his reluctance at beginning a new phase of his life parallels Lawrence's description of the ash. According to the author, "it was a perfect morning. From the ash tree the slender green fruits that the children call 'pigeons' were twinkling gaily down on the little breeze, into the front gardens of the houses. The valley was full of a lustrous dark haze, through which the ripe corn shimmered, and in which the stream from Minton pit melted swiftly. Puffs of wind came. Paul looked over the high woods of Aldersley, where the country gleamed, and home had never pulled at him so powerfully" (101). Upon returning home from work, Paul proudly sees his mother and places eight shillings of his salary on the table for her to use. Here Lawrence describes the ash as a friend" welcoming him home after a long nightly walk. In essence, the author personifies the tree to feel the same as Paul and his mother (113). When William dies from pneumonia, Lawrence uses the ash to symbolize the sadness and grief that the Morel family undergoes. According to the author, "Paul went to the bay window and looked out. The ash-tree stood monstrous and black in front of the wide darkness (138). Just as Tennyson's uses the yew to reflect the loss of his friend Arthur Hallam in his epic poem In Memoriam, so does Lawrence utilize the imagery of the