As hard as Lawrence tried to create Rananim, it only lasted for short bursts of time. Either he became restless and needed to find new pastures, or some kind of argument would ensue that made living peacefully impossible. For Frieda, two was company and three was most definitely a crowd, and so Dorothy Brett found herself ejected from the latest excursion to Oaxaca and back in New Mexico.
Brett headed back to the DH Lawrence Ranch, as it is now known, a 160-acre (0.65 km2) property located at 8,600 feet (2,600 m) above sea level near Lobo Mountain near San Cristobal in Taos County. Originally named the Lobo Ranch, then the Kiowa Ranch, it was given to Frieda Lawrence as a gift by Mabel Dodge Luhan. Although the Lawrence’s would leave New Mexico in1925, Frieda would return after Lawrence’s death, remarry, and settle in Taos for the rest of her life. Frieda died in Taos on her 77th birthday. Brett, too, would live out her days in Taos, becoming an American citizen in 1938. She died in 1977 at the age of 94.
Lawrence was worried for Brett travelling alone. Although the Mexican Revolution had technically ended after 10 years of civil war (1910-1920), tensions were still high and threatened to break out at any moment. But the severing of ties was necessary if the tension between him and Frieda – brought about by his close friendship with Brett – were to abate. But the parting wasn’t enough for Frieda. Neither did she want Brett on the ranch when she returned. And so Lawrence arranged for her to borrow a cabin from Bill and Rachel Hawk, in the orchard of Del Monte.
Lawrence was very ill in Mexico, and was very close to death. This coincided with an earthquake, the significance of which wasn’t lost on Brett. This led to her having a very strange dream in which Lawrence meets a young man while out walking with Frieda. ‘The young man was yourself as a young man – young, without a beard,’ explains Brett. ‘You had met your youth and fallen in love with it and gone off with it. I do not like this dream. Years later I find out why: I am told it foretells death’.
When Lawrence was feeling slightly better he returned to New Mexico. When Brett got news of this she jumps on her horse, Prince, and gallops over snow and ice to see him. She is greeted by Frieda who informs he’s upstairs, resting. He is frail and ill. Lawrence confides that he was so ill when he reached Mexico City from Oaxaca that Frieda applied rouge to his cheeks to bring some colour to his face.
Brett soon receives a visit from Ida Rauh (March 7, 1877 – February 28, 1970). Rauh was a lawyer, suffragist, actress, sculptor, and poet who moved to Santa Fe in 1922. She would make a bust of Lawrence which now resides in the Lawrence Memorial Library in New Mexico. Lawrence wrote the play David for her, which Brett was currently typing up. He would give Brett six copies of his manuscripts as a thank you for her typing services. Once she had finished typing up David, the two friends ride together to see Lawrence and he performs the entire play for them, with only a pause for tea.
During the one man performance, Frieda is fagging it as usual. Brett reminds the QB of her practical worth and hunts down a rabbit which goes in the pot for tea. A compromise is reached and Brett is allowed to see Lawrence again, but no more than three times a week. ‘I won’t have you up here every day. I won’t have you on the place. You are a mischief maker. I hate you, hate you!’ screams Frieda, but Brett finally stands up to her, telling the QB to go to hell and that she won’t be bossed by her. Shocked at this rare outburst, Frieda slams the door in Brett’s face. When Brett later relays this to Lawrence he is highly amused.
These squabbles soon result in the obligatory writing of fierce letters, though ‘you are always gentle and friendly after your angry letters. How tiresome it all is! You are weary of it; so am I. The only difference between us is that I am hopeful and you are pessimistic.’ A lot of this tension was symptomatic of other issues, namely Frieda’s desire to have her children up on the ranch. Perhaps this was one reason why Frieda resented Lawrence’s bonding with Brett: If she couldn’t be close to her children, why should he be allowed to be close to anyone else but her?
Despite these inevitable strains on their friendship, there were many good times together, such as trips up Raspberry Canyon to watch men take honey from the wild bees in the trees. But most of the time, it was just Brett and Lawrence. When they weren’t doing a bit of DIY together, such as building a shed for the pet cow Susan, one favourite pastime was painting together, or, perhaps more accurately, Brett painting and Lawrence correcting her. On one occasion Brett was working on a painting of the desert and their ranch life, which opened up a debate about the process of painting. ‘You insist that landscape without figures is dull’ writes Brett. ‘We are agreed, though, that most pictures should be painted from memory: the imagination works better that way.’ Lawrence is sceptical of artists who feel the need to sit in front of what they paint, arguing ‘they feel nothing inside them, so they must have it before their eyes. It’s all wrong and stupid: it should all be brought from inside oneself’ and then he spits on the floor, as if to reinforce the point.
Frieda had a go at painting once. Lawrence demanded to see what she’d done but she refused. He snatched the painting from her, flung it on the ground and stamped on it. Brett tries to rationalise this irrational behaviour, suggesting it could be the ‘fatigue of his writing’ and that she’d seen the artist Mark Gertler in similar tempestuous moods. Lawrence’s behaviour was violent and vindictive. But the tortured artist, it would appear, could torture other people and get away with it in the 1920s
Lawrence loved to be the teacher, or ‘preacher’ as Knud Merrild observed in his own memoir of their life together. So when Brett takes Lawrence shooting, it is a rare reversal of roles. He is very much the pupil, protesting ‘I have never fired a gun in my life and I hate killing things’. They use the doorknob on the toilet door for fire practice and after a few goes, the lock is blown to smithereens. The toilet door can never be locked properly again. It’s soon after this that Lawrence shoots a porcupine, justifying it on the grounds that they damage the trees. ‘You are immensely proud of yourself in one way, and full of regrets in another’ observes Brett.
We learn from Brett that Lawrence was an avid reader of the pulp magazine Adventure. First published in November 1910, it ran to 881 issues, ending in 1971. Noted explorer and journalist Trumbull White was the first editor (until 1912) and established two editorial principles: An “adventure” story did not have to be set in an exotic location; the story should be as historically, geographically, and socially accurate as possible. Brett said that Lawrence liked reading it more than anything. ‘It has just plain tales of adventure. Simple, unaffected storytelling, sometimes really very good, too’ he said.
One reason that Frieda disliked Brett and Lawrence’s friendship is because they acted like a spinster and a curate. It infuriated her that they didn’t have the guts to get it on. Despite the common perception of Lawrence as a smutty author, he was actually quite prudish in real life. ‘How untouchable you are, I think to myself’ writes Brett. ‘How true, how important to you is your constant cry of ‘Noli me tangere!’ You do not care to be touched, to be pawed. Necking makes you furious. Your sex is not to be played with, not to be belittled by playfulness. It is serious, a danger to be respected as the tiger is respected, hidden in the jungle.’ Brett feels very much the same and this is something else that brings them closer together.
The biggest sin they commit is coming home late from one of their excursions together, which would send Frieda into a rage. ‘One day she stands, arms akimbo, eyes wild, mouth a long tight slit; her close fitting bodice, pleated, full skirts all arrogant and belligerent. The next, she is a big, warm, bounding creature, eyes blue and free, mouth a broad grin, bodice and skirt colourful and glowing: rough, hearty, and undoubtedly handsome.’
When the summer of 1925 is over and plans for winter start to emerge, Brett does not want to return to London. She considers staying out here on the ranch on her own but Lawrence is worried for her safety. Instead he convinces her to visit Capri, a small island off the coast of Napoli. She is issued with a letter to the Brewsters, guaranteeing her somewhere to stay. Their life together in New Mexico is over. Capri will be their last adventure.
In the DH Lawrence Memory Theatre we want to address various aspects of Lawrence’s life through artefacts. Lawrence is a complex individual and we need to capture all aspects of his personality if we are to represent him correctly. How do we address his violent bullying of Frieda? Or his guilt at shooting a porcupine? His friendship with the inspirational Ida Rauh? The compassion and gentleness of Dorothy Brett? In 2019 we will be building our Memory Theatre and retracing Lawrence’s savage pilgrimage both physically and digitally. If you have an idea for an artefact, get involved and submit ideas here.
- Raspberry Mountain, NM Nearby Mountains (nearbymountains.com)
- Adventure Magazine (pulpmags.org)
- Ida Rauh, helped create theatre (nytimes.com)
- Lawrence and Brett 1: A Friendship (thedigitalpilgrimage.wordpress.com)
- Lawrence and Brett 2: Changing rooms (thedigitalpilgrimage.wordpress.com)
- Lawrence and Brett 3: Oaxaca and Phallic radishes (thedigitalpilgrimage.wordpress.com)
- Lawrence and Brett 4: Rosalino the Mozo (thedigitalpilgrimage.wordpress.com)
- Lawrence and Brett 6: You, Me and Capri (thedigitalpilgrimage.wordpress.com)