Lit My Fire, Blew My Conch
Cartimandua: down; Cunning-Folk: finito. Atwood and du Maurier: read, read, readski. And I'm chomping my way through Jane Eyre like some obscure literary version of the Very Hungry Caterpillar - a constant source of surprise to me, considering that I apparently never got more than five chapters deep in the thing as a kid ('it's supposed to be better than the film!' - yeah whatever, Old Me). I don't know what's got into me.
I scarfed down A Dutch Castaway on Ascension Island in one sitting just this morning, while (vainly, still) trying to sleep. It's only a skinny thing: a modern paperback printing of the diary of an 18th Century merchant seaman, Leendert Hasenbosch, put ashore on Ascension for the rather vague catch-all crime of 'sodomy'. His diary and camp were found a year later, but the man himself was never seen again - not even, contrary to the assertions of the lurid and uber-fictionalised 1730 edition, as a skeleton.
Obviously, my favourite parts are the hallucinations:
'16th June 1725
'To no purpose looked for Ships; and in the Night was surprised by a Noise round my Tent of Cursing and Swearing, and the most blasphemous Conversations that I ever heard. My Concern was so great, that I thought I should have died with the Fright. I did nothing but offer up my Prayers to the Almighty to protect me in this miserable Circumstance; but my fright rendered me in a very Condition of praying, I trembling to that degree, that I could not compose my Thoughts and any body would have believed that the Devil had moved his Quarters, and was coming to keep Hell on Ascension. I was certain that there was no human Creature on the Island but myself, having not seen the Footsteps of any man but my own; and so much libidinous Talk was impossible to be expressed by any body but Devils. And to my greater Surprise I was certain that I was very well acquainted with one of the Voiced, it bearing an affinity of an intimate Acquaintance of mine; and I really thought that I was sometimes touched by an invisible Spirit. I made my application to the Father, Son and Holy Ghost for forgiveness of my Sins, and that they would protect me from these evil Spirits. It was three a Clock in the Morning before they ceased tormenting me, and then being very weary, I fell to sleep. In the Morning I awoke about seven a-clock and returned God Almighty my hearty and sincere Thanks for his last Night's Protection of me, but still heard some Shrieks near my Tent, but could see nothing. I took my Prayer Book, and read the Prayers proper for a Man in my Condition, and at the same time heard a Voice, crying, Bouger*. I can't afford paper enough to set down every particular of this unhappy Day.
'17th June 1725
'I fetched home two Buckets of Water and dreaded Night's coming on, and interceded with God Almighty that I might not be troubled again with those evil Spirits; and I hope God Almighty heard my Prayers, for I was not perplexed with them this Night.
'Before I came upon this miserable island, I was of the Protestant religion, and used to laugh at the Romans when they talked to me of Apparitions; but to my great Sorrow now find smarting Reasons to the contrary, and shall henceforth embrace their Opinions.
'This Day an Apparition appeared to me in the similitude of a Man, whom I perfectly knew; he conversed with me like a Human Creature, and touched me so sensibly of the Sins of my past Life (of which I have a sincere and hearty Repentance) and was such a terrible Shock to me, that I wished it would kill me.'
The rest of it was a bit too real for me. Poor old Leendert. I can only hope that when my time comes, the last entries of my LiveJournal don't read something like:
'8th October 1725
'Drank my own Urine, and ate raw Flesh.
'9th October to 14th October 1725
'All as before.'
* 'The modern spelling for "bouger" is "bugger".'
I scarfed down A Dutch Castaway on Ascension Island in one sitting just this morning, while (vainly, still) trying to sleep. It's only a skinny thing: a modern paperback printing of the diary of an 18th Century merchant seaman, Leendert Hasenbosch, put ashore on Ascension for the rather vague catch-all crime of 'sodomy'. His diary and camp were found a year later, but the man himself was never seen again - not even, contrary to the assertions of the lurid and uber-fictionalised 1730 edition, as a skeleton.
Obviously, my favourite parts are the hallucinations:
'16th June 1725
'To no purpose looked for Ships; and in the Night was surprised by a Noise round my Tent of Cursing and Swearing, and the most blasphemous Conversations that I ever heard. My Concern was so great, that I thought I should have died with the Fright. I did nothing but offer up my Prayers to the Almighty to protect me in this miserable Circumstance; but my fright rendered me in a very Condition of praying, I trembling to that degree, that I could not compose my Thoughts and any body would have believed that the Devil had moved his Quarters, and was coming to keep Hell on Ascension. I was certain that there was no human Creature on the Island but myself, having not seen the Footsteps of any man but my own; and so much libidinous Talk was impossible to be expressed by any body but Devils. And to my greater Surprise I was certain that I was very well acquainted with one of the Voiced, it bearing an affinity of an intimate Acquaintance of mine; and I really thought that I was sometimes touched by an invisible Spirit. I made my application to the Father, Son and Holy Ghost for forgiveness of my Sins, and that they would protect me from these evil Spirits. It was three a Clock in the Morning before they ceased tormenting me, and then being very weary, I fell to sleep. In the Morning I awoke about seven a-clock and returned God Almighty my hearty and sincere Thanks for his last Night's Protection of me, but still heard some Shrieks near my Tent, but could see nothing. I took my Prayer Book, and read the Prayers proper for a Man in my Condition, and at the same time heard a Voice, crying, Bouger*. I can't afford paper enough to set down every particular of this unhappy Day.
'17th June 1725
'I fetched home two Buckets of Water and dreaded Night's coming on, and interceded with God Almighty that I might not be troubled again with those evil Spirits; and I hope God Almighty heard my Prayers, for I was not perplexed with them this Night.
'Before I came upon this miserable island, I was of the Protestant religion, and used to laugh at the Romans when they talked to me of Apparitions; but to my great Sorrow now find smarting Reasons to the contrary, and shall henceforth embrace their Opinions.
'This Day an Apparition appeared to me in the similitude of a Man, whom I perfectly knew; he conversed with me like a Human Creature, and touched me so sensibly of the Sins of my past Life (of which I have a sincere and hearty Repentance) and was such a terrible Shock to me, that I wished it would kill me.'
The rest of it was a bit too real for me. Poor old Leendert. I can only hope that when my time comes, the last entries of my LiveJournal don't read something like:
'8th October 1725
'Drank my own Urine, and ate raw Flesh.
'9th October to 14th October 1725
'All as before.'
* 'The modern spelling for "bouger" is "bugger".'