Writers in Sussex: D. H. Lawrence’s Vision at Bognor Regis

One hundred and ten years ago this month, in March 1915, D. H. Lawrence found himself on the windblown coast of Bognor Regis in West Sussex, a place that struck him with its haunting, liminal beauty. The Great War had already cast its long shadow across Europe, and the English coastline, normally a place of leisure and relaxation, had become a threshold, a stage for both the visible and the invisible toll of war. Lawrence, ever sensitive to the currents beneath the surface of things, was captivated by the strangeness of the seascape: a glimmering, ghostly expanse where sea and sky merged into one pale, unsettling whole.

Photograph of Lawrence by Lady Ottoline Morrell, 29 November 1915

From this place of eerie stillness and silent tumult, he wrote a letter to his confidante Lady Ottoline Morrell, a piece that is part travelogue, part vision, part prophecy. What began as a simple day trip became, for Lawrence, a confrontation with something elemental - something spectral and deeply unsettling. In the white, rolling mist of the sea, he saw not only the physical landscape before him, but also a psychic one: full of ghosts, omens, and the slow gathering weight of a revolution not yet born.

Letter from D. H. Lawrence to Lady Ottoline Morrell

Greatham, Pulborough, Sussex

March 1915

Mr Dear Lady Ottoline, -

Bognor Pier would have been a little longer in 1915! There was even a pier at the sea end.

Today we drove to Bognor. It was strange at Bognor – a white, vague, powerful sea, with long waves falling heavily, with a crash of frosty white out of the pearly whiteness of the day, of the wide sea. And the small boats that were out in the distance heaved, and seemed to glisten shadowily. Strange the sea was, so strong. I saw a soldier on the pier, with only one leg. He was young and handsome; and strangely self-conscious and slightly ostentatious: but confused. As yet he does not realise anything, he is still in shock.  And he is strangely roused by the women, who seem to have a craving for him. They look at him with eyes of longing, and they want to talk to him. He was brown and strong and handsome.

Bognor beach at sunset

It seemed to me anything might have come out of that white, silent, opalescent sea; and the great icy shocks of foam were strange. I felt as if legions were marching in the mist. I cannot tell you why, but I am afraid. I am afraid of the ghosts of the dead. They seem to come marching home in legions over the white, silent sea, breaking in on us with a roar and a white iciness. Perhaps this is why I feel so afraid. I don't know. But the land beyond looked warm, with a warm blue sky, very homely: and over the sea legions of white ghosts tramping. I was on the pier.

On the pier to nowhere!

I cannot tell how icy cold my heart is with fear. It is as if we are all going to die. Did I not tell you my revolution would come? It will come, God help us. The ghosts will bring it. The touch of death is very cold and horrible on us all.

D.H. Lawrence

It is the whiteness of the ghost legions that is so awful

Reproduced in Angels in the Sussex Air, edited by Patrick Garland

This is the first in a new series of blog posts exploring the lives, letters, and landscapes of writers in Sussex - those who passed through, lived here, or found something uniquely stirring in its skies, seas, and soil. From windswept coastlines to quiet villages, Sussex has long been a muse.