At the east end of the Island of Crete on the 19th March, 1912, as he rounded the shoulder of the last mountain on his path from Khandrà to Palaíkastro, the […] twentieth-century Western student of History suddenly sighted the ruins of a baroque villa – built, by the look of it, for one of the last of the Venetian governors of Candia – which, had it been erected on English and not on Cretan soil, would probably then still have been inhabited by the descendants of its original occupant, but which in Crete in A.D. 1912 was already a relic of “Ancient History” on a par with the ruins of the Minoan imperial palace at Cnossos which the twentieth-century English wayfarer had been visiting a week since. As he stood staring at this Jacobean country house, where the Modern Western Civilization in which he himself lived and moved and had his being had suffered the pangs of death on Cretan soil a quarter of a millennium ago, the spectator had an experience which was the counterpart, on the psychic plane, of an aeroplane’s sudden deep drop when it falls into an air-pocket. On that spot on which Time had stood still since the eviction of the Venetians by the ʿOsmanlis in the War of Candia (gerebatur A.D. 1645-69), the spectator was suddenly carried down in a “Time-pocket” from a day in the year A.D. 1912 to a day in the fifth decade of the seventeenth century on which History, in that house, had come abruptly to an end in an evacuation without any sequel except solitude and decay.
Another Time-pocket: Ephesus.
A Study of History, Vol X, OUP, 1954