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⇒ Cover ⇒ Preface ⇒ Introduction ⇒ The visit ⇒ Weymouth map c.1930 ⇒ Portland map c.1930 ⇒ Works quoted ⇒ Postface |
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A visit to Weymouth with John Cowper Powys [ ⇒ continue... ] |
The only escape from that profound melancholy so easily engulfed in sheer insanity, which is the result of submission to "the illusion of dead matter," lies in this tenacious hold upon the concrete identity of the soul. |
A NIGHT OF STORM |
 He hurried along the grey and rain-swept way, going westward and while that "way" was too narrow to be called a road, and too wide to be called a path, its peculiarity was that it was designed for walking alone. No one could ride on it. No one could drive on it, and it was wondrous smooth to the tread. He had to go nearly a couple of miles before he came to the westward slope of the great promontory, and when he did so, though he could see flickering lights, and a great many of them, along the beach, and could clearly catch the white foam of the breakers under these flaring illuminations, he could see nothing of any wreck. "It's all over," he thought. "She's gone; and the life-boat's come in. I doubt if they saved a single life." (...) Not a plank, not a barrel—the fishermen assured him—had been washed ashore. "'Tis like the wreck of the 'Festy'," they explained, "what had five men and a boy a'board. There be under-pulls in these here spring tides, what sucks 'un down and out-along. If 'tis fair weather, come the New Moon, we may see summat! But not a 'oowan who suckled 'em won't know the poor sons of bitches then." |
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