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Portrait in Shadow: D. H. Lawrence

JAN JUTA

IREMEi\4BER we were sitting on the terrace in the afterglow
of the sunset. Below us the almond trees in scented profusion
flowed down the slopes of the mountain to the darkening
sea—the blue Mediterranean that washes the shores of Sicily; while
above us, high under Heaven, floated the icy peak of .Mount Etna,
the "parado.x of smoking snow," with her tall plume of smoke
curling a \\ hile tjuestion mark into the ether. I knew the moment
had come to which 1 had made up my mind—the moment I had
rather avoided—when I would broach the subject of painting a
portrait of my host. He had rented the lonely farmhouse where
we were, not only as a safe retreat from the society of a world
which did not usually receive him kindly, but also because he
knew that to fulfill his own way of life he must live apart and out
of the usual pattern. .And there among the Old AA'orld trees and
neglected garden terraces, set on the outskirts of the town of
Taormina, he felt he had found a haven.

I had wanted to paint his portrait ever since we had met. For
not only did his appearance interest me, but his individuality so
intrigued me that I longed to try to capture in paint the enigma of

Reprinted from Edward Nehls's I). H. La'u:njiu-c: a Composite Biography
(Madison, University of Wisconsin I'rcss, 195^*), with permission. The ending
has been adapted by the author.
 

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