"Lawrence, D. H - Lady Chatterley's Lover" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lawrence D. H)

moved in that good sort of society of people in the government who are
not tip-toppers, but who are, or would be, the real intelligent power
in the nation people who know what they're talking about, or talk as
if they did.

Connie did a mild form of war-work, and consorted with the
flannel-trousers Cambridge intransigents, who gently mocked at
everything, so far. Her 'friend' was a Clifford Chatterley, a young man
of twenty-two, who had hurried home from Bonn, where he was studying
the technicalities of coal-mining. He had previously spent two years at
Cambridge. Now he had become a first lieutenant in a smart regiment, so
he could mock at everything more becomingly in uniform.

Clifford Chatterley was more upper-class than Connie. Connie was
well-to-do intelligentsia, but he was aristocracy. Not the big sort,
but still it. His father was a baronet, and his mother had been a
viscount's daughter.

But Clifford, while he was better bred than Connie, and more 'society',
was in his own way more provincial and more timid. He was at his ease
in the narrow 'great world', that is, landed aristocracy society, but
he was shy and nervous of all that other big world which consists of
the vast hordes of the middle and lower classes, and foreigners. If the
truth must be told, he was just a little bit frightened of middle-and
lower-class humanity, and of foreigners not of his own class. He was,
in some paralysing way, conscious of his own defencelessness, though he
had all the defence of privilege. Which is curious, but a phenomenon of
our day.

Therefore the peculiar soft assurance of a girl like Constance Reid
fascinated him. She was so much more mistress of herself in that outer
world of chaos than he was master of himself.

Nevertheless he too was a rebel rebelling even against his class. Or
perhaps rebel is too strong a word; far too strong. He was only caught
in the general, popular recoil of the young against convention and
against any sort of real authority. Fathers were ridiculous his own
obstinate one supremely so. And governments were ridiculous our own
wait-and-see sort especially so. And armies were ridiculous, and old
buffers of generals altogether, the red-faced Kitchener supremely. Even
the war was ridiculous, though it did kill rather a lot of people.

In fact everything was a little ridiculous, or very ridiculous
certainly everything connected with authority, whether it were in the
army or the government or the universities, was ridiculous to a degree.
And as far as the governing class made any pretensions to govern, they
were ridiculous too. Sir Geoffrey, Clifford's father, was intensely
ridiculous, chopping down his trees, and weeding men out of his
colliery to shove them into the war; and himself being so safe and
patriotic; but, also, spending more money on his country than he'd got.