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Sea and Sardinia   By: (1885-1930)

Sea and Sardinia by D. H. Lawrence

First Page:

SEA AND SARDINIA

BY D. H. LAWRENCE

WITH EIGHT PICTURES IN COLOR BY Jan Juta

[Illustration]

NEW YORK THOMAS SELTZER 1921

COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY THOMAS SELTZER, INC.

All rights reserved

Printed in the United States of America

[Illustration: OROSEI]

CONTENTS

I. AS FAR AS PALERMO 11

II. THE SEA 44

III. CAGLIARI 99

IV. MANDAS 127

V. TO SORGONO 154

VI. TO NUORO 212

VII. TO TERRANOVA AND THE STEAMER 260

VIII. BACK 312

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

OROSEI Frontispiece

MAP BY D. H. LAWRENCE 44

ISILI 100

TONARA 148

SORGONO 180

FONNI 204

GAVOI 236

NUORO 268

TERRANOVA 300

SEA AND SARDINIA

I.

AS FAR AS PALERMO.

Comes over one an absolute necessity to move. And what is more, to move in some particular direction. A double necessity then: to get on the move, and to know whither.

Why can't one sit still? Here in Sicily it is so pleasant: the sunny Ionian sea, the changing jewel of Calabria, like a fire opal moved in the light; Italy and the panorama of Christmas clouds, night with the dog star laying a long, luminous gleam across the sea, as if baying at us, Orion marching above; how the dog star Sirius looks at one, looks at one! he is the hound of heaven, green, glamorous and fierce! and then oh regal evening star, hung westward flaring over the jagged dark precipices of tall Sicily: then Etna, that wicked witch, resting her thick white snow under heaven, and slowly, slowly rolling her orange coloured smoke. They called her the Pillar of Heaven, the Greeks. It seems wrong at first, for she trails up in a long, magical, flexible line from the sea's edge to her blunt cone, and does not seem tall. She seems rather low, under heaven. But as one knows her better, oh awe and wizardy! Remote under heaven, aloof, so near, yet never with us. The painters try to paint her, and the photographers to photograph her, in vain. Because why? Because the near ridges, with their olives and white houses, these are with us. Because the river bed, and Naxos under the lemon groves, Greek Naxos deep under dark leaved, many fruited lemon groves, Etna's skirts and skirt bottoms, these still are our world, our own world. Even the high villages among the oaks, on Etna. But Etna herself, Etna of the snow and secret changing winds, she is beyond a crystal wall. When I look at her, low, white, witch like under heaven, slowly rolling her orange smoke and giving sometimes a breath of rose red flame, then I must look away from earth, into the ether, into the low empyrean. And there, in that remote region, Etna is alone. If you would see her, you must slowly take off your eyes from the world and go a naked seer to the strange chamber of the empyrean. Pedestal of heaven! The Greeks had a sense of the magic truth of things. Thank goodness one still knows enough about them to find one's kinship at last. There are so many photographs, there are so infinitely many water colour drawings and oil paintings which purport to render Etna. But pedestal of heaven! You must cross the invisible border. Between the foreground, which is our own, and Etna, pivot of winds in lower heaven, there is a dividing line. You must change your state of mind. A metempsychosis. It is no use thinking you can see and behold Etna and the foreground both at once. Never... Continue reading book >>




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