Out of that dream came rescue—the Vigilant, the vice-admiralty court, the streets of Dunedin, and the long voyage back home to the old house by the Egeberg. He could not tell—they would think him mad. He would write of what he knew before death came, but his wife must not guess. Death would be a boon if only it could blot out the memories.
That was the document I read, and now I have placed it in the tin box beside the bas-relief and the papers of Professor Angell. With it shall go this record of mine—this test of my own sanity, wherein is pieced together that which I hope may never be pieced together again. I have looked upon all that the universe has to hold of horror, and even the skies of spring and the flowers of summer must ever afterward be poison to me. But I do not think my life will be long. As my uncle went, as poor Johansen went, so I shall go. I know too much, and the cult still lives.
Cthulhu still lives, too, I suppose, again in that chasm of stone which has shielded him since the sun was young. His accursed city is sunken once more, for the Vigilant sailed over the spot after the April storm; but his ministers on earth still bellow and prance and slay around idol-capped monoliths in lonely places. He must have been trapped by the sinking whilst within his black abyss, or else the world would by now be screaming with fright and frenzy. Who knows the end? What has risen may sink, and what has sunk may rise. Loathsomeness waits and dreams in the deep, and decay spreads over the tottering cities of men. A time will come—but I must not and cannot[211] think! Let me pray that, if I do not survive this manuscript, my executors may put caution before audacity and see that it meets no other eye.
Notes
Editor’s Note: The surviving T.Ms. is by HPL. It was not followed very accurately by Weird Tales (February 1928), as a number of paragraphing changes and other alterations were made. Regrettably, the Arkham House editions followed Weird Tales. Arkham House would have been better off following the reprint of the story in T. Everett Harré’s Beware After Dark! (1929), as HPL had supplied the editor with a carbon of the T.Ms. The readings from this appearance are recorded here, even though they are not strictly speaking relevant to the textual history of the tale.
Texts: A = T.Ms. (JHL); B = Weird Tales 11, No. 2 (February 1928): 157–78, 287; C = T. Everett Harré, ed., Beware After Dark! (New York: Macauley, 1929), 223–59; D = The Dunwich Horror and Others (Arkham House, 1963), 130–59. Copy-text: A.
1. (Found . . . Boston)] Found . . . Boston. B [as footnote]; (Found . . . Boston.) C [as footnote]; om. D
2. “Of . . . kinds. . . .”] om. C; Of . . . kinds . . . D
3. —Algernon Blackwood.] om. C; —ALGERNON BLACKWOOD D
4. aeons] eons B, D
5. grand-uncle] grand-uncle, B, C; granduncle, D
6. Languages] languages B
7. grand-uncle’s] granduncle’s B, D
8. Archaeological] Archeological B
9. shewing] showing A, B, C, D
10. Then indeed] Then, indeed, B, C, D
11. for] for, B, D
12. to] om. B, D
13. pretence] pretense B, C, D
14. “CTHULHU CULT”] “CTHULHU CULT” B
15. I.”,] I.,” B, C, D
16. La.,] La. A, C
17. Scott-Elliot’s] Scott-Eliott’s A, B, C; Scott-Elliott’s D
18. “Atlantis . . . Lemuria”] Atlantis . . . Lemuria A, B, C, D
19. magazines (. . .),] magazines, (. . .) A
20. “Golden Bough”] Golden Bough A, B, C, D
21. “Witch-Cult . . . Europe”.] Witch-Cult . . . Europe. A, B, C, D
22. illnesses] illness D
23. recognised] recognized B, C, D
24. hypersensitive”,] hypersensitive,” C, D
25. queer”.] queer.” C, D
26. aesthetes] esthetes B, D
27. archaeological] archeological B, D
28. shewed] showed A, B, C, D
29. archaeology.] archeology. B, D
30. titan] Titan A, B, C, D
31. fhtagn”.] fhtagn.” C, D
32. night-clothes,] night-/clothes, A; nightclothes, B, C, D
33. recognising] recognizing B, C, D
34. out-of-place] out of place B, D
35. “R’lyeh”.] “R’lyeh.” C, D
36. 23d,] 23rd, B; 23, D
37. object,] object D
38. his] the B, C, D [his typed over the in A]
39. 2nd] 2 D
40. p.m.] p. m. B, C; P.M. D
41. 22nd.] 22. D
42. scepticism] skepticism B, C, D
43. 23d . . . 2nd] 23d . . . 2d. A; 23rd . . . 2nd. B; 23 . . . 2 D
44. cognisant] cognizant B, C, D
45. aesthetes] esthetes B, D
46. 28th . . . 2nd] 28 . . . 2 D
47. tremendous] tremendous, B, D
48. despatch] dispatch B, D
49. Hayti,] Haiti, B, D
50. rumour] rumor B, D
51. “Dream Landscape”] Dream Landscape B, D
52. asylums,] asylums B, D
53. connexion] connection B, C, D
54. travelled] traveled B, D
55. Inspector of Police.] inspector of police. B, D
56. determine.] determine. ¶ B, D
57. archaeology.] archeology. B, D
58. realise] realize B, C, D
59. recognised] recognized B, C, D
60. octopus-like] octopuslike B, D
61. centre,] center, B, C, D
62. fore-paws] forepaws B; fore-/paws D
63. shew] show A, B, C, D
64. civilisation’s] civilization’s B, C, D
65. time.] time. ¶ B, D
66. Inspector’s] inspector’s B, D
67. Professor of Anthropology] professor of anthropology B, D
68. note.] note. ¶ B, D
69. Esquimaux] Eskimos B, D
70. Esquimaux] Eskimos B, D
71. aeons] eons B, D
72. so] as B, D
73. This data,] These data, B, D
74. cult-worshippers] cult-worshipers B, C, D
75. Esquimaux.] Eskimos. B, D
76. Esquimau] Eskimo B, D
77. Legrasse] ¶ Legrasse B, C, D
78. “In . . . dreaming.”] “In . . . dreaming.” B, D
79. and] om. B, D
80. worshippers;] worshipers; B, C, D
81. savoured] savored B, C, D
82. 1st,] 1, D
83. the] om. B, D
84. fragment] fragments B, D
85. ploughed] plowed B, C, D
86. licence] license B, C, D
87. daemoniac] demoniac B, D
88. organised ululation] organized ululations B, D; organized ululation C
89. sing-song] singsong B, D
90. Then] ¶ Then B, C, D
91. hypnotised] hypnotized B, C, D
92. bellowing,] bellowing A, B, C, D
93. ring-shaped] ring-/shaped B; ringshaped D
94. centre] center B, C, D
95. centre] center B, C, D
96. worshippers] worshipers B, C, D
97. Bacchanale] bacchanale B, D
98. a] om. D
99. worshippers] worshipers B, C, D
100. Portuguese] Portugese A
101. colouring] coloring B, C, D
102. fetichism] fetishism B, D
103. surprising] surprizing B
104. worshipped,] worshiped, B, C, D
105. Those] These D
106. men,] man, B, D
107. Black Winged] Black-winged B, D
108. extract,] extract B, C, D
109. aeons] eons B, D
110. Chinamen] Chinaman A
111. men] man B, D
112. moulding] molding B, C, D
113. fleshly] fleshy D
114. shewed] showed A, B, C, D
115. aeras] eras B, C, D
116. revelling] reveling B, C, D
117. sepulchres,] sepulchers, B, C, D
118. high-priests] high priests A, B, C, D<
br />
119. mouldy] moldy B, D
120. rumours] rumors B, C, D
121. centre] center B, C, D
122. Chinamen] Chinaman A
123. “Necronomicon”] Necronomicon A, C; Necronomicon B, D
124. aeons] eons B, D
125. “That . . . die.”] That . . . die. D
126. publications] publication B, D
127. Esquimau] Eskimo B, D
128. seventeenth-century] Seventeenth Century B, D
129. colonial] Colonial A, B, C, D
130. some time be heard from] be heard from sometime B, D
131. crystallised] crystallized B, C, D
132. phantasies] fantasies B, D
133. out.] out. ¶ B, D
134. sincerity,] sincerity D
135. shewed] showed A, B, C, D
136. fhtagn”, . . . fhtagn”.] fhtagn,” . . . fhtagn.” ¶ B, D; fhtagn,” . . . fhtagn.” C
137. connexions.] connections. B, C, D
138. first-hand,] first hand, B, D
139. materialism,] materialism D
140. almost] a most D
141. thing] thing which B, D
142. think] thing B
143. heaven] Heaven A, C
144. the] om. B, D
145. Cult”,] Cult,” B, C, D
146. in] of B, D
147. Vigilant] Vigilant B, C, D
148. With] with C, D
149. Vigilant . . . Follow.] [printed in paragraph form in B, D]; Vigilant . . . One / Survivor . . . Battle / and . . . His / Possession. . . . Follow. C
150. 17'] 17', B, D
151. 2nd] 2 A, C; 2d B, D
152. week.] week. ¶ B, D
153. 20th] 20th, B, D
154. men.] men. ¶ B, D
155. 22nd,] 22d, B, D
156. equipment.] equipment. ¶ B, D
157. shewed] showed A, B, C, D
158. existed.] existed. ¶ B, D
159. story,] story B, D
160. chasm.] chasm. ¶ B, D
161. 2nd.] 2nd. ¶ B; 2d. ¶ D
162. 12th] 12th, B, D
163. exposure.] exposure. ¶ B, D
164. 1st.] 1st. ¶ B, D
165. man.] man. ¶ B, D
166. marvellous] marvelous B, C, D
167. events] event D
168. moulded] molded B, C, D
169. 23d] 23rd B, D
170. Dunedin;] Dunedin: D
171. sea-taverns.] sea taverns. A, B, C, D
172. hills.] hills. ¶ B, D
173. non-committal] noncommittal D
174. reëmbarked] re-embarked B, D
175. Egeberg.] Egeberg. ¶ B, D
176. “Christiania”.] “Christiania.” B, C, D
177. connexion] connection B, C, D
178. boat.] boat. ¶ B, D
179. naive] naïve C, D
180. shew] show A, B, C, D
181. favoured] favored B, C, D
182. shews] shows A, B, C, D
183. 43'] 43', D
184. coast-line] coastline A, B, C, D
185. aeons] eons B, D
186. mountaintop,] mountain-top, A, B, C, D
187. daemons,] demons, B, D
188. on] on the A [the crossed out], B, D
189. Acropolis,] acropolis, D
190. polarising] polarizing B, C, D
191. shewed . . . shewed] showed . . . showed A, B, C, D
192. Portuguese] Portugese A
193. trap-door] trap door A, D
194. phantasmally] fantasmally B, D
195. moulding] molding B, C, D
196. balanced.] balanced. ¶ B, D
197. phantasy] fantasy B, D
198. aeon-long] eon-long B, D
199. membraneous] membranous A, B, C, D
200. odour] odor B, C, D
201. cannot] can not B, D
202. Guerrera,] Guerrera B, D
203. Ångstrom.] Angstrom. B, C, D
204. hesitated] hesitated, D
205. wheel] wheels B, D
206. laughing shrilly as he kept on] laughing shrilly, as he kept on C; om. D
207. daemon] demon B, D
208. relentlessly.] relentlessly. ¶ B, D
209. heaven!] Heaven! A, C
210. flight,] flight; D
211. cannot] can not B, D
Pickman’s Model[1]
You needn’t think I’m crazy, Eliot—plenty of others have queerer prejudices than this. Why don’t you laugh at Oliver’s grandfather, who won’t ride in a motor? If I don’t like that damned subway, it’s my own business; and we got here more quickly anyhow in the taxi. We’d have had to walk up the hill from Park Street if we’d taken the car.
I know I’m more nervous than I was when you saw me last year, but you don’t need to hold a clinic over it. There’s plenty of reason, God knows, and I fancy I’m lucky to be sane at all. Why the third degree? You didn’t use to be so inquisitive.
Well, if you must hear it, I don’t know why you shouldn’t. Maybe you ought to, anyhow, for you kept writing me like a grieved parent when you heard I’d begun to cut the Art Club and keep away from Pickman. Now that he’s disappeared I go around to the club once in a while, but my nerves aren’t what they were.
No, I don’t know what’s become of Pickman, and I don’t like to guess. You might have surmised I had some inside information when I dropped him—and that’s why I don’t want to think where he’s gone. Let the police find what they can—it won’t be much, judging from the fact that they don’t know yet of the old North End place he hired under the name of Peters. I’m not sure that I could find it again myself—not that I’d ever try, even in broad daylight! Yes, I do know, or am afraid I know, why he maintained it. I’m coming to that. And I think you’ll understand before I’m through why I don’t tell the police. They would ask me to guide them, but I couldn’t go back there even if I knew the way. There was something there—and now I can’t use the subway or (and you may as well have your laugh at this, too) go down into cellars any more.
I should think you’d have known I didn’t drop Pickman for the same silly reasons that fussy old women like Dr. Reid or Joe Minot or Bosworth[2] did. Morbid art doesn’t shock me, and when a man has the genius Pickman had I feel it an honour[3] to know him, no matter what direction his work takes. Boston never had a greater painter than Richard Upton Pickman. I said it at first and I say it still, and I never swerved an inch, either, when he shewed[4] that “Ghoul Feeding”.[5] That, you remember, was when Minot cut him.
You know, it takes profound art and profound insight into Nature[6] to turn out stuff like Pickman’s. Any magazine-cover hack can splash paint around wildly and call it a nightmare or a Witches’ Sabbath[7] or a portrait of the devil, but only a great painter can make such a thing really scare or ring true. That’s because only a real artist knows the actual anatomy of the terrible or the physiology of fear—the exact sort of lines and proportions that connect up with latent instincts or hereditary memories of fright, and the proper colour [8] contrasts and lighting effects to stir the dormant sense of strangeness. I don’t have to tell you why a Fuseli really brings a shiver while a cheap ghost-story frontispiece merely makes us laugh. There’s something those fellows catch—beyond life—that they’re able to make us catch for a second. Doré had it. Sime has it. Angarola of Chicago has it. And Pickman had it as no man ever had it before or—I hope to heaven[9]—ever will again.
Don’t ask me what it is they see. You know, in ordinary art, there’s all the difference in the world between the vital, breathing things drawn from Nature[10] or models and the artificial truck that commercial small fry reel off in a bare studio by rule. Well, I should say that the really weird artist has a kind of vision which makes models, or summons up what amounts to actual scenes from the spectral world he lives in. Anyhow, he manages to turn out results that differ from the pretender’s mince-pie dreams in just about the same way that the life painter’s results differ from the concoctions of
a correspondence-school cartoonist. If I had ever seen what Pickman saw—but no! Here, let’s have a drink before we get any deeper. Gad, I wouldn’t be alive if I’d ever seen what that man—if he was a man—saw!
You recall that Pickman’s forte was faces. I don’t believe anybody since Goya could put so much of sheer hell into a set of features or a twist of expression. And before Goya you have to go back to the mediaeval[11] chaps who did the gargoyles and chimaeras[12] on Notre Dame and Mont Saint-Michel. They believed all sorts of things—and maybe they saw all sorts of things, too, for the Middle Ages had some curious phases. I remember your asking Pickman yourself once, the year before you went away, wherever in thunder he got such ideas and visions. Wasn’t that a nasty laugh he gave you? It was partly because of that laugh that Reid dropped him. Reid, you know, had just taken up comparative pathology, and was full of pompous “inside stuff” about the biological or evolutionary significance of this or that mental or physical symptom. He said Pickman repelled him more and more every day, and almost frightened him toward the last—that the fellow’s features and expression were slowly developing in a way he didn’t like; in a way that wasn’t human. He had a lot of talk about diet, and said Pickman must be abnormal and eccentric to the last degree. I suppose you told Reid, if you and he had any correspondence over it, that he’d let Pickman’s paintings get on his nerves or harrow up his imagination. I know I told him that myself—then.
But keep in mind that I didn’t drop Pickman for anything like this. On the contrary, my admiration for him kept growing; for that “Ghoul Feeding”[13] was a tremendous achievement. As you know, the club wouldn’t exhibit it, and the Museum of Fine Arts wouldn’t accept it as a gift; and I can add that nobody would buy it, so Pickman had it right in his house till he went. Now his father has it in Salem—you know Pickman comes of old Salem stock, and had a witch ancestor hanged in 1692.
I got into the habit of calling on Pickman quite often, especially after I began making notes for a monograph on weird art. Probably it was his work which put the idea into my head, and anyhow, I found him a mine of data and suggestions when I came to develop it. He shewed[14] me all the paintings and drawings he had about;[15] including some pen-and-ink sketches that would, I verily believe, have got him kicked out of the club if many of the members had seen them. Before long I was pretty nearly a devotee, and would listen for hours like a schoolboy to art theories and philosophic speculations wild enough to qualify him for the Danvers asylum. My hero-worship, coupled with the fact that people generally were commencing to have less and less to do with him, made him get very confidential with me; and one evening he hinted that if I were fairly close-mouthed and none too squeamish, he might shew[16] me something rather unusual—something a bit stronger than anything he had in the house.
Collected Fiction Volume 2 (1926-1930): A Variorum Edition Page 6