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All stories have been written by me. I use characters created by E. M. Forster. I do not own the characters and make no money on the fiction I write. The stories are slash fics. They focus on the relationship between the characters. So if you're looking for porn…you should go somewhere else...or risk being disappointed.

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Stand Alones

The Greenwood, The Trenches, Waiting

The Russet Room



Happy endings

Part 1:
Dug outs
Part 2:
Trench Fever
Part 3:
Part 4:

Part 5:
To strive and win
Part 6:
Love and Sin
Part 7:
The end

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Title: Happy Endings - The end (7/7)
Author: Devo79
Pairing: Maurice/Alec
Rating: G



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Title: The Russet Room
Author: Devo79
Pairing: Maurice/Alec
Rating: PG13-NC17


The sensation of hands and lips on his skin raged through his body. He was not used to this; someone else touching him. And Scudder seemed to be mapping him. Every inch of skin caressed or kissed. 

“I…” was all he could say. “I…” Scudder paused in his exploration. 

“Yes?” he said knowing very well that perhaps he had stepped over the line, that he could still be thrown right back out of the window. 

“I’ve..” Maurice took a deep breath. “I’ve never done this before.” 

Scudder was quiet for a heartbeat or two. “Never?” he asked. Scudder’s brown eyes sought his. Maurice merely shook his head. “Tell me if I do something you don’t want.” he whispered in Maurice’s ear. 

Scudder looked at him. He would not continue, not without Maurice’s consent. His hazel brown eyes held Maurice’s and a thousand thoughts raced through his mind. His mother, Dr. Barry, Mr. Lasker Jones, Clive. Oh God, what would Clive say if he knew? This was going far beyond platonic, in truth it already had gone too far. 

Scudder was giving him a way out. He could say no and the boy would leave. But did he want that? He let his thumb trace Scudder’s jaw line. Maurice’s fingers moved to the boy’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Damn Clive, to hell with the doctors...he wanted this, needed this with every part of his being. 

The kiss started sweet and slow but then Scudder let his tongue trail over Maurice’s lower lip and he had opened his mouth letting him in. Maurice’s body hummed, every sensation, every quiet moan seemed to be amplified in the small room. His clothes had disappeared so had Scudder’s, but Maurice had no recollection of that happening. 

Scudder’s skin was different than Maurice would have imagined. Despite his hard physical work and much time spend in the outdoors it was smooth and soft. Only his hands bore any evidence of hard labour. The boy was trailing kisses down his chest, pausing briefly by his nipples, too briefly, only to continue downwards past his navel. 

Warmth and wetness surrounded him and for a brief moment he was sure he would pass out. He propped himself up on his elbows to look down at Scudder kneeling between his legs. The sight alone nearly made him lose his mind. Would Clive have done this for him if he had insisted back at Cambridge? He doubted it. Clive would never have given him this. Never. Scudder looked up but did not stop, his eyes seemed glazed. 

Then he did stop, letting go of Maurice. His lips were swollen and red and Maurice could do nothing but stare. The boy crawled off the bed and started to look through his clothes. So that was that, Maurice thought. Scudder would leave. He closed his eyes. 

“We don’t ‘ave to go on if you don’t want to…but…” 

“I want…” Maurice answered. He did not know exactly what he wanted. He just wanted more. 

He felt hands on him again, sleek with something slightly cold. He knew what would happen next. He had heard some of the lads at the Mission talking about it when they thought he wasn’t listening. 

“Mr. Hall…” the boy whispered. This was ridicules. They were both naked, breath ragged and he continued to call him Mr. Hall. He wanted to say something. To tell him to call him Maurice. 

But then a tight heat engulfed him and he opened his eyes. Scudder was straddling him slowly moving down, slowly driving Maurice mad. Maurice moved his hands so they lay on the boys hips.


“Had I best be going now, Sir?” Maurice pretended not to hear.

“You mustn’t call me Sir…May I ask your name?”

“I’m Scudder.”

“I know - I meant your other name.”

“Only Alec just.”

“I’m called Maurice” he said caressing Alec’s hip, kissing his belly.


“Saw you leaning out of the window…saw you the next night too. I was out on the lawn.”

“Do you mean you were out in all that infernal rain?” Maurice asked worried.

“Yes…watching…oh, that’s nothing, you’ve got to watch…I’ve not much longer in this country, that’s how I keep putting it.” 

Maurice looked at him, touched his lips, his chest. He wanted him more than anything he had ever wanted before and he felt at peace here in this room with this man. All those years of fear and loneliness wiped away by loving hands. 

He wanted to give Alec all of him, every aspect, every part of his body and being. Alec stroked Maurice’s hair and giggled when Maurice reached down below the covers and touched him. Alec moaned and let his head rest against the pillow……… Afterwards they fell asleep.


“Had I best be going now?” Alec repeated.

“No, No.” Maurice whispered.

“Sir, the church has gone four, you’ll have to release me.” Maurice grabbed Alec by the wrists and pinned him down. Maurice was straddling him and used the weight of his body to keep Alec in the bed. Alec looked worried for a second. 

“Maurice, I’m Maurice.” he whispered and Alec smiled…

“Did you ever dream you’d a friend, Alec? Someone to last your whole life and you his?” Alec’s fingers were drawing circles on Maurice’s shoulder and he allowed himself to forget the world for just a few more moments.

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Title: Happy Endings - Love and Sin (6/7)
Author: Devo79
Pairing: Maurice/Alec
Rating: PG13



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devo79fanfic: (A/M Russet room)

E.M. Forster: A life, volume two; Polycrates’ Ring (1914-1970) by P.N. Furbank

Forster showed Maurice to various friends and Forster’s confidence began to grow. He wrote to Dent: “You can scarcely imagine the loneliness of such an effort as this - a year’s work!” (6 March 1915)

In a letter EMF described Clive as being underdeveloped. ( Ha! take that Clive!)

“The main man in my book is, roughly speaking, good, but Society nearly destroys him, he nearly slinks through his life furtive and afraid, and burdened with a sense of sin. You say “ If he had not met another man like him, what then?” What indeed? But blame Society not Maurice, and be thankful even in a novel when a man is left to lead the best life he is capable of leading!……….. Is it even right that such a relationship should include the physical? Yes sometimes. If both people want it and both are old enough to know what they want- yes. I used not to think this, but now do. Maurice and Clive would have been wrong, Maurice and Dicky more so, Maurice and Alec are all right, some people might never be.” ( letter to Forrest Reid 13 March 1915)

Lytton Strachey wrote to EMF 12 march 1915: “A minor point is that I find it very difficult to believe that Maurice would have remained chaste during those 2 years with Clive. He was a strong healthy youth, and you say that unless Clive had restrained him “he would have surfeited passion”. But how the Dickens could Clive restrain him? How could he have failed to have erections?” (well I think he restrained Maurice with love. Bad bad Clive. Let Maurice have his erections! Damn you.)

From same letter: “ I like enormously Alec’s letters. Is it true that the lower classes use “share” in that sense? - I must find out.”

EMF replied: “ I might have been wiser to let that also (The Alec Scudder part of the novel) resolve into dust or mist, but the temptation’s overwhelming to grant one’s creation a happiness actual life does not supply. Why not? I kept thinking. A little rearrangement, rather better luck . But no doubt the rearrangement’s fundamental.”

Siegfried Sassoon showed some of his own unpublishable writings (read: homosexual) to EMF, who in return lent him Maurice.

Forster was shown a draft of an article about his writing and was ruffled by it. Part of the trouble was that he neither wanted to show Maurice to the writer or have his work summed up without it.

It was EMF’s and his friend Isherwood’s favorite occupation to devise endings to Maurice.

Apparently Maurice was suppose to end when Alec doesn’t go to the Argentine but a friend of EMF asked how Maurice was to find Alec after that and that made EMF add a passage where Maurice ends up in Alec’s arm. (THANK GOD)

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Title: Happy Endings - To strive and win
Author: Devo79
Pairing: Maurice/Alec
Rating: PG13



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Found a song that fits amazingly well to the scene in Maurice 
where Alec leaves Maurice in the hotel room. It's Just for a moment by Aqualung.

Just for a moment
Everything I treasured was gone
Just for a moment
the world was full of pain

Oh how I love you

Just for a moment
I faced my life alone
Just for a moment
My luck had finally run out

Oh how I love you

The same thing that blew us together
Might blow us apart
So keep a piece of me precious
And close to your heart

Just for a moment
All of my nightmares came true
Just for a moment
My heart was broken in two

Oh how I need you
Oh how I'd miss you
Oh how I love you  

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Title: Happy Endings - Home (4/7)
Author: Devo79
Pairing: Maurice/Alec
Rating: PG13



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Title: Interlude  (3/7)
Author: Devo79
Pairing: Maurice/Alec
Rating: PG13



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Sexuality and literature 5: Distant Desire: Homoerotic Codes and the Subversion of the English Novel in E.M.Forster’s Fiction by Parminder Kaur Bakshi


Chapter 7: Desire Attained: Maurice


Forster wrote Maurice during 1913-14 and revised it in 1919, 1932, 1959-60. Maurice was written as a respite from literary conventions. Unlike the other novels, Maurice flowed effortlessly and compulsively out of Forster’s pen. An explicitly homosexual text, Maurice decodes the motifs of Forster’s other novels. Forster did not plan Maurice; the novel emerged from the pressures of homoerotic desire which refused to be stifled any more. He was suffering from an acute sense of sexual and artistic block, and in this state he went to visit Edward Carpenter in September 1913. Here George Merrill touched Forster on the backside and the contact released the author’s pent-up emotions. The experience brought him sexual release and he poured homoerotic desire into narrative. Maurice is distinct in that it does not fall within the genres of mainstream literature. It is less well constructed that Forster’s other novels, because in this case, the text is determined by content rather than structure.


Maurice progresses from his initial horror of homosexual love, from regarding it as pathological, aberrance, to an affirmation of his own nature. His awakening to homosexuality is gradual and the novel depicts the stages by which he attains his identity. It is Forster’s strength that he maintains his protagonist’s sense of bewilderment and incomprehension to the last. He vividly captures Maurice’s struggle as he grapples first with his own, then society’s prejudice against love between men. Thus homosexuality emerges as natural phenomenon, something that happens in spite of social conditioning and taboos. He describes Maurice’s recognition of his homosexuality as positive, an emergence from the confusion and anguish caused by social mores to a harmonious understanding of himself.


As is typical of a romance, Maurice meets the person he will fall in love with by accident. And on seeing Durham Maurice is strangely attracted to him. Like most lovers Maurice and Clive complement one another; Maurice is athletic while Clive is intellectual. Clive is small, reserved and intimidating because of his mental powers; he belongs to the gentry and being older of the two, he has already traversed the sexual path on which Maurice is still blundering. Maurice does not have Clive’s clarity of mind, but exerts physical control over him; he comes from the class of tradesmen, and being younger he is also pliant in Clive’s hands. Thus Maurice is affectionate and impulsive while Clive channels his energies into an enduring relationship. Forster is at pains to emphasize that there is nothing exceptional about Maurice; he is an average sort of person except for his sexual preference.


Maurice’s friendship with Clive is only a phase. The friendship with him loses its aura, and Maurice is unperturbed when Alec blackmails him over Clive, for “even the Clive of Cambridge had lost sanctity.” Maurice outgrows not only Clive but also his archaic ideas of Platonic friendship. Maurice no longer craves for intellectual companionship, but physical solace. His cry of sexual despair, “Come”, fetches Alec to his bed. His relationship with Alec does not have a period of courtship (like the one with Clive) but starts from the physical. Alec helps him to move beyond the accepted paradigms of homosexuality and create a relationship based on personal need. Clive educated his spirit but with Alec the flesh educates the spirit. Maurice achieves a balance with Alec, a relationship that “twists sentimentality and lust together into love”. With Alec he is able to close the gap between his inner desires and external life. For Maurice, his friendship with Alec has the same status as Clive’s marriage has for him.


Forster stood by the friendship of Alec and Maurice; “A happy ending was imperative”. He wrote in 1915: “I…do feel that I have created something absolutely new, even to the Greeks.” The figure that inspired Maurice was Carpenter. It is interesting that, of all of Forster’s friends, Carpenter approved of the ending; “I was so afraid you were going to let Scudder go at the last – but you saved him and saved the story, because the end though improbable is not impossible and is the one bit of real romance – which those who understand will love.”


The class differences between Alec and Maurice are denoted by “the crack in the floor”. They sleep together but in the morning “class was calling, the crack in the floor must reopen at sunrise.” Maurice identifies totally with Alec when he tells Mr Ducie that his name is Scudder, but it is merely a symbolical gesture.


For Maurice, as indeed for Forster himself, his homosexuality is a source of his unique insights, and his failure in worldly terms is a measure of his success as an individual. With Maurice, Forster’s literary career comes round full circle, ending as he began, by writing explicitly homosexual narratives. Forster was to revise his opinion about his writings over the years and wrote a postscript to an entry of thirty years before, “adding when I am almost 85 how annoyed I am with Society for wasting my time by making homosexuality criminal. The subterfuges, the self-consciousness that might have been avoided.” In his letter to Forrest Reid of 13 March 1915, Forster stated, “My defence at any Last Judgement would be “I was trying to connect up and use all the fragments I was born with.” Maurice worked to liberate Forster’s sexual and creative energies after which he was ready to complete A Passage to India.
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Thanks to goat_song for this! 

"Epilogue (1914)," Maurice, by E. M. Forster
First published in 1999 by Andre Deutsch Ltd
Copyright 1999 The Provost and Scholars of King's College, Cambridge

NOTE: Forster wrote of this "Epilogue": "…one wants to know more about him and Alec for every reason, and there was an epilogue, featuring them x-years later, but all who read it thought it bad, so did I, so I scrapped it in the final version." –from a letter to Stephen Spender, dated 25 August 1933.

"The axe is laid unto the root of the trees…" This text, so well expressing her own state, rose unbidden into Kitty's mind. It had been induced by a distant sound of wood-cutting but she was unconscious of this. She was bicycling alone through a haggard country. All leaves had been stripped from the branches by an earlier gale, and now the wind boomed in monotonous triumph under a light brown sky. In such weather, the world seems emptied of good; warmth has gone, ice and snow, splendid in their own fashion, have not yet arrived. And Kitty had nothing to do, did not know where she was going, and did not care. She had left the high road because it wearied her, and turned into plantations; the track sloped, but into the wind, so that she still had to pedal, and over a worse surface. After an hour more she would get back to the inn where she was stopping, and eat her solitary tea.

"The axe is laid…therefore every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down…but no one wants to be barren," she thought. "No one asks to be cross and sad, or five years older. Some of us might have brought forth fruit if we'd been nourished properly." And sighing she cycled on, while the sound of the chopping grew more distinct. At twenty seven Kitty was as old as most women at forty; youth had found no resting place either in her body or mind. Since Violet Tonks had married—that rather than her brother's disgrace had been the crisis—she had lost her vigour, no longer attended concerts, lectures on hygiene &c, or cared for the improvement of the world; but looked after her mother or helped the Chapmans wearily. Now and then she "struck," as she termed it; must have a "real holiday alone," as on the present occasion. But she never came home refreshed. She could not strike against her own personality.

"Can I get out this way?" she called to the woodman.

He nodded, and replied in an independent voice "If you see my mate, Miss, will you ask him to bring up a saw he has, please."

"Yes, if I see him," said Kitty, who felt that a liberty had been taken with her. But speech had interrupted her thoughts, and when the axe recommenced, it was as a human sound.

Half a mile on, she saw the second man. He was piling logs at the side of a clearing. She called to him, and as he approached, she recognized her brother. He seemed a common labourer—not as trim as he who had accosted her. His trousers were frayed, his shirt open at the throat: he began to button it with hard brown fingers as she cried "Maurice." But beneath the exterior a new man throbbed—tougher, more centralised, in as good form as ever, but formed in a fresh mould, where muscles and sunburn proceed from an inward health.

"What, you're never still in England…disgraceful…abominable…" She spoke not what she felt, but what her training ordained, and as if he understood this he did not reply, nor look her in the face. He seemed to be waiting—like the woods—till her sterile reproofs were over. "We none of us miss you," she continued. "We never even mention you. Arthur tells us not to even ask what you did. I shall not tell mother I've seen you for she's had enough to bear. A man further up gave me a message to you about a saw, or I wouldn't have spoken otherwise."

"Which saw?" These were the only words he uttered: his voice was rougher, but still low, and very charming.

"I don't know and I don't care," she said, flying into a rage. Maurice picked up two saws, listened to the noise the axe made, and moved away carrying the smaller. It was her last view of him. The road twisted out of the wind, and before she had recovered her temper she was coasting away far below. The evening grew more dreary, and sky tree hedges acquired a granulated appearance, as though rust were forming on them, and announcing the earth's extinction.

As the tea brought warmth to her mind, Kitty began recalling her brother's disappearance. She had never thrashed it out. "Something too awful" had been hinted by her brother-in-law, who knew most, and had been in secret communication with Clive. Clive would make no pronouncement, and had refused point blank to see Mrs Hall and be questioned by her. The two families drifted apart—the more quickly because old Mrs Durham and Pippa spread a rumour that Maurice had speculated on the Stock Exchange. This annoyed the Halls, for the boy, like his father, had always been most careful, and Kitty was allowed to write one of her sharp letters; she remembered its wording very clearly now, in the solitude of this Yorkshire inn.

But what was the "awful thing"? Why should a sane wealthy unspiritual young man drop overboard like a stone into the sea, and vanish?—drop without preparation or farewell? The night of the wonderful sunset he had not returned—to the vexation of Aunt Ida, now dead, who desired a motor-ride, and on the morrow he was not at the office, nor at a dinner appointment with Clive. Beyond that she knew nothing, for masculinity had intervened. It was a man's business, Arthur had implied: women may weep but must not ask to understand, and he warned them against communicating with the Police. She had wept duly, and comforted poor mother, but emotion had now been dead there—many years, and Oh what was it? She longed to know. What force could have driven her brother into the wilderness?

Then she thought "He's not alone there: he's working under that other man," and with a flash but without the slightest shock the truth was revealed to her. "He must be very fond of his mate, he must have given up us on his account, I should imagine they are practically in love." It seemed a very odd situation to her, once which she had never heard of and had better not mention, but the varieties of development are endless: it did not seem a disgusting situation, nor one that society should have outlawed. Maurice looked happy and proud despite his cheap clothes and the cold. She remembered how his face had changed when she spoke of the saw: it was the only remark that had moved him: abuse, entreaties, sermons, were all powerless against his desire to work properly with his friend. "Which saw?" Nothing else mattered, and he had left her.

Well, and she didn't mind. He could if he liked. She had never cared for him, and didn't now, but she did understand him, and could dwell on him at last without irritation. She saw why he had always repelled her, in spite of surface generosities, why she and her sister, and even her [ }m, and lived in a state of war. What were their thoughts now? And as the evening drew on, and the carpet bulged up in the wind, Kitty's own thoughts grew less sociological. In particular, she began to think of the unknown friend as a human being, and to be interested in him. She felt that though commoner than her brother, he might be nicer to a woman, she liked his strong loose body and the softness of his brave eyes, and wanted to see him again. He was "the sort of person in whom all meet"—so with unconscious felicity she expressed Alec's nature, and she found herself asking the landlady about the men who worked in the woods through which she had bicycled. Her question was vague, as was the landlady's answer: there were so many woods, she implied, and so many men, and some came and others went.

"It must be much too cold up there alone," said Kitty, whose idea of love, though correct, remained withered: for Maurice and Alec were at that moment neither lonely nor cold. Their favourite time for talking had been reached. Couched in a shed near their work—to sleep rough had proved safer—they shared in whispered review the events of the day before falling asleep. Kitty was included, and they decided to leave their present job and find work in a new district, in case she told the Police, or returned. In the glow of manhood "There we shall be safe" they thought. They were never to be that. But they were together for the moment, they had stayed disintegration and combined daily work with love; and who can hope for more?
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Hypnosis was a form of therapy used to cure homosexuals. They would say the same sentence over and over. Example: I am no longer attracted to men.

It would have taken an unusually independent person…to ignore the majority and to delete those elements that stood in the way of his happiness. (Maurice was such a person)

Once the hurdle of self-awareness had been overcome, the next step was to find a like-minded person. This was nearly always a dangerous affair. A man who approached the wrong person might be arrested, blackmailed or disgraced. (Clive says this. Alec takes the risk)

Homosexuals would use literature as a means of communication. (Clive asks Maurice if he has read the symposium. Later he says that he knows Maurice has “read those books in the vac.”)

Slang was used to identify other homosexuals. One could say that he was musical or that he was a nonconformist. (Clive tells Maurice that he is a nonconformist)

In the 1900s, red neckties and handkerchiefs were a clear signal to other homosexuals. Red and green carnations were another sign. (The doctor wears a red carnation AFTER Alec and Maurice have slept together)   

Edward Carpenter, who was ordained in 1869, unfrocked himself five years later, partly to end the crucifixion of his physical needs. Carpenter was a friend of Forster (Clive also sheds his religion)

The Symphonie pathetique:

It was dedicated to Tchaikovsky’s young lover Bobyk. Forster suggested that Tchaikovsky’s sexuality was audible encoded in the bars of the symphony. (I think it’s interesting that Maurice says it’s jolly when he plays it too fast and Clive says that it can’t be played again. He says: You have to hear it all the way to the end.)  

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I've also been reading Siegfried Sassoon's diaries. He was a good friend of E.M.F and liked him very much. I am just going to quote Sass:

March 21 1922: ….he is a disappointing (and disappointed) creature, in spite of his extraordinarily interesting and brilliant qualities…I judge him to be over-sensitive and sexually thwarted. (He once told me that he believes in sexual austerity.) But he gives an impression of being sexually starved. I wish he would get really angry with the world. Or fall passionately in  love with an Idea.
April 28 1922: We spent the whole afternoon together, and it was extremely pleasant. We laughed a lot. E.M.F is certainly one of the nicest men I know. He told me that, at parties, he always feels self-conscious and contemptuous. I wrote earlier that E.M.F makes me feel youthful, impetuous, and intellectually clumsy.
June 14 1923: He (E.M.F) said: The problem of this age is to combine freedom of soul with the necessity to know people intimately.
October 26 1923: He (E.M.F)said: My theory is that one only gets the beneficial results of great passion after it has died. Every time I’ve been in love I have got nothing but good from it in the end. But I don’t want to be in love like that again – not at present, anyhow. He doubted whether it is possible to love intensely more than two or three times…
June 13 1924: I have read A passage to India with interest and admiration, though the characters are all more or less repellent (except Fielding who is mostly Forster himself)September 30 1925: He (E.M.F) said: Making such a lot of money makes me feel heavy. (A passage to India had been selling largely…in England and America.)
October 3 1925: I don’t see E.M.F often enough. No one is more sympathetic, wise and witty about the surface-subtleties of human existence.

Sassoon mentions an unpublished novel. It was written around the same time as A passage to India (fits with Maurice it took E.M.F a long time to finish A passage...partly because he started writing Maurice). Sassoon writes that other friends of E.M.F mentioned it. But he hadn't read it himself. I couldn't find it again but it's some time around 1924-1925.

Funny fact: James Wilby played S.Sassoon in the movie Regeneration. S.Sassoon was romantically involved with Ivor Novello. Jeremy Northam played Novello in Gosford Park a movie James Wilby was also in.

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Title: Happy Endings - Trench Fever (2/7)
Author: Devo79
Pairing: Maurice/Alec
Rating: PG13


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Title: Happy Endings - Dug outs (1/7)
Author: Devo79
Pairing: Maurice/Alec
Rating: PG13


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The short story Ansell (1903):

The hero is a garden boy whose relationship with the narrator echoes Forster’s own childhood friendship, as described in Marianne Thornton and fictionalized in Maurice, with a garden boy of that name. (Reading this short story I couldn’t help noticing that Ansell has a few things in common with Alec. They are both gamekeepers for instance. Maybe this character was a forerunner for Alec?)


Forster showed one of his short stories with a homosexual content to Goldsworthy Lowes Dickinson. He was disgusted by it and this had shaken E.M.F so severely as to retard work on Maurice. “How dependent on approval!” is E.M.F’s diary comment. But Dickinson approved of the high-minded Maurice. But the experience made E.M.F take great care not to expose himself again to disapproval.


In the 1960’s E.M.F executed “a grand review” of stories he thought not good enough to survive…A number of stories were destroyed. (DAMN)

The novels which meant most to Forster were The longest journey and Maurice.


Different E.M.F quotes from the book: 
I want to love a strong young man of the lower classes and be loved by him and even hurt by him. That is my ticket, and then I have wanted to write respectable novels (1935)

I should have been a more famous writer if I had written or rather published more, but sex has prevented the latter… (Diary 31 December 1964)  

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Casting Hugh Grant for the role of Clive was an instantaneous decision.

Ivory liked Rupert Graves’ natural, unpretentious charm.

It took 54 days to shoot Maurice, Merchant Ivory’s longest schedule ever.
Ivory: But I wonder if he (Julian Sands) would have brought the vulnerability and sensitiveness to the part that James Wilby supplied. I suspect not.
John Malkovich was first supposed to play Lasker-Jones.


James Wilby auditioned for the part of Clive’s brother-in-law. And when Sands backed out Ivory was tossing between James Wilby and Julian Wadham to replace Sands. But because he had already cast the dark-haired Hugh Grant as Clive, he decided on the blond Wilby. 
Wadham played one of Maurice’s stockbroker friends.
Rupert Graves thanked Ivory for giving him the working-class part. Usually, he said, he was doomed to play young upper-class twits.
Hugh Grant had worked in a student film with James Wilby, made at Oxford.

Ivory’s ideas about what happened after the book/film ended:

Clive, a young father now, volunteers when WWI starts in 1914, becomes an officer, gets killed in France. Maurice decides to become a conscientious objector instead. But Alec, full of patriotism, enlists and is sent to the trenches. Maurice then has an about-face and goes into the army, not as an officer but as an enlisted man, in order to share Alec’s trench life. Alec and Maurice survive and return to England.


The films of Merchant Ivory by Robert Emmet Long


Maurice was made on a budget of 2.6 million dollars.

When we see Maurice and Clive riding at Pendersleigh it’s really stunt riders Harvey Kip (as Clive) and Adrian Ffooks (as Maurice)

R.E. Long: The great strokes of casting are James Wilby and Rupert graves. Although conveying vulnerability, Wilby has a masculine presence that works against homosexual stereotyping; everything, in fact, about Maurice’s relationship to Alec (including the nude, unapologetic love scenes) seems authentic and real. Ivory allows the pair to have a basic dignity, to be an understandable part of human experience and desire.

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Title: The Greenwood, The Trenches, Waiting.
Author: Devo79
Pairing: Maurice/Alec
Rating: PG13
A/N: I use quotes from some of the cases described in E. Carpenter’s The Intermediate Sex and Magnus Hirschfeld’s writings. I have incorporated the actual feelings and experiences of homosexuals that lived around the same time as Maurice.

The Greenwood

   Maurice no longer slept uneasily. He knew that he was loved and that pretence and lies were no longer necessary. And with this knowledge had come peace. Once he had thought that the only reasonable end to his agony and struggle was death. But now his every living hour was illuminated with his love for life.

He often found that whenever he and Alec were separated, his thoughts would keep returning to Alec. Embodying as he did love, Alec could heal all hurts and wounds that were the results of Maurice’s fears and doubts. As nature and social law had been so cruel as to impose a severe celibacy on him for so long, he had fought for freedom and achieved it. But only because Alec had supported him. He trusted to Alec his weakness and secrets. 

Confidence demanded that the last door of his heart should be unclosed and revealed to his friend. Ever since Maurice had come into this world his heart had been an enigma that he himself could not solve. But for every hour spent with Alec he could glimpse more and more of the elusive solution. 

   All of the sudden he felt a little low and lonesome. Alec had not yet come home from his trip to the village. It was not fear for Alec never to return but simply the fact that Maurice found it hard to breathe freely whenever they were separated. 

Maurice had soon realised that the love he felt for Alec was different than his love for Clive. He had been willing to give Clive everything. His past, his future and his whole being. But Clive had not accepted the gift presented to him. Instead he had enslaved Maurice with his neglect. In this was the great difference between Alec and Clive. Alec recognised the splendour of the gift and in return had given freedom and love.

And now every object which other people, and indeed in the past Maurice himself, usually pursued – honour, high position and wealth – seemed vain and unattractive.


The Trenches

   Words of love being so few and inadequate, everything that was said between them was liable to be misunderstood or worse overheard by others. So they dared not speak. Their passion, restrained but never ending, turned into an all consuming hunger. 

There were occasions where they could stand side by side leaning against the walls of the trenches. Behind their backs, unseen by the others, Maurice would let his hand rest on the small of Alec’s back or Alec would interlace his fingers with Maurice’s. 

Those moments of stolen pleasure would often seem more painful than not touching at all because they could not stand the thought of the things they could not do or the memory of passions fulfilled in the past. 

They were, in short, together but separated and miserable.



   Maurice sat in the armchair. Minutes feeling like decades he held Alec’s letter in his hand. All he could do now was wait. So he waited. One moment doubting that Alec would come the next knowing for certain that he would. 

He could not help but wonder if Alec had felt the same way waiting for him in the boathouse for two nights.
'I got no sleep waiting' he remembered Alec saying. A swirl of contradictory thoughts and feelings surged through his body. First passionate longing, then, deep delight and angry frustration and finally, when the storm had passed a kind of gratitude. 

Before Alec Maurice had felt set apart from the rest of mankind until that glorious night in the
Russet Room. He no longer regarded his feelings as unnatural or abnormal, since they had disclosed themselves so perfectly naturally and spontaneously within him. Earlier his every emotion had been cut short and worn out by thousand doubts. He had felt the need for constant secrecy. 

But no more. Ever since he had given free rein to his true nature, he had been happier than ever before. He only mourned one thing. Clive would never truly be happy. He still stumbled around in the dark.

  A knock on the door startled Maurice who had been lost in his own thoughts. Again the knock, this time more insisting. Maurice wanted to speak, to call out, but his mouth was suddenly dry. 

The door opened and for a moment, a horrible fear stricken moment, he did not recognise Alec. The young man from Penge and the boathouse was gone replaced by a man Maurice immediately fell in love with. Alec stood there in the doorway, hair cut short and wearing his uniform. Maurice stood up. 

In three long strides Alec closed the gap between them and embraced him.


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October 2016



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