Lovecraft Annual 1

by S. T. Joshi (ed. )

  Octr. 28, 1935

  Dear White:—

  Well—my total incarceration didn’t begin so early as I feared it would, since the autumn has been distinctly above the average in warmth. Possibly I mentioned my visit near Boston Sept. 20–23, when my host & I took many delightful side-trips to places like rocky Nahant, ancient Marblehead, brooding, hilly Wilbraham [the “Dunwich” of my story], & sandy, willow-decked Cape Cod. On Oct. 8 I had a trip to New Haven—a place which I had never thoroughly explored before. Though not as rich in colonial antiquities as Providence, it has a peculiar fascination of its own—& I explored it quite thoroughly, seeing all the old houses, churches, college buildings, &c., & visiting 3 museums & 2 botanic gardens. The most impressive sights of all, perhaps, are the great new quadrangles of Yale University—each an absolutely perfect reproduction of old-time architecture & atmosphere, & forming a self-contained little world in itself. The Gothic courtyards transplant one in fancy to mediaeval Oxford or Cambridge—spires, oriels, pointed arches, mullioned windows, arcades with groined roofs, climbing ivy, sundials, lawns, gardens, vine-clad walls & flagstoned walks—everything to give the young occupants that massed impression of their accumulated cultural heritage which they might obtain in Old England itself. To stroll through these quadrangles in the golden afternoon sunlight; at dusk, when the candles behind the diamond-paned casements flicker up one by one; or in the beams of a mellow Hunter’s Moon;1 is to walk bodily into an enchanted region of dream. It is the past & the ancient mother land brought magically to the present time & place. The choicest of these quadrangles is Calhoun College—named from the illustrious Carolinian2 (whose grave in St. Philips churchyard, Charleston, I visited only 2 months ago), who was a graduate of Yale. Nor are the Georgian quadrangles less glamorous—each being a magical summoning-up of the world of two centuries ago. I wandered for hours through the limitless labyrinth of unexpected elder microcosms, & mourned the lack of further time. Certainly, I must visit New Haven again. But this was not all. On Oct. 16 my friend Samuel Loveman came on from New York, & we proceeded at once to Boston to absorb books, museums, & antiquities. Stayed 3 days, & had a very enjoyable time. It is just possible that I shall have one trip more—a ride over the Mohawk Trail & just into Vermont in a friend’.3 well-heated Chevrolet—but I’m not counting heavily on that.

  Congratulations on your notable record of academic attendance— a record which I hope will not soon be marred! Your studies sound interesting & congenial, & I’d like to see that Gothick tale essay of yours some day. If you have a spare copy, I’ll wager young Barlow would be eager to use it in his amateur paper, The Dragon-Fly.4 Have you, by the way, received a copy of this latter? If not, I’ll try to induce the editor to send you one. A very high-grade venture despite a trifle of mechanical crudity.

  Glad your musical library is growing, & hope the radio will soon be restored to working order. I prefer silence for reading or writing of any kind, but can imagine how some might find a melodic accompaniment agreeable. Glad also that you have had opportunities for choreographic observation. I can’t appreciate the dance, but realise that it has a secure place among the arts. Sorry you were disappointed in the cinematic “Anna Karenina”—a production I have not seen.5 Glad Marvel Tales was of some interest. “Sarnath” is an old story—written in 1919—& differs vastly from any of my recent efforts. It shews the Dunsany influence to a marked extent.6

  Coming to my overcrowded programme, I have read very little this autumn—though a formidable pile of borrowed books still adorns my library table. What I’m going to tackle now—after I wade through Derleth’s new detective novel & tell him what I think of it— is the Wells-Huxley “Science of Life”—a really important contribution to the popular understanding of biology, if critics report aright.7 Your own reading sounds very sensible & solid—& I want to get hold of “The Shape of Things to Come.8 some day. Sorry H G is trying cheap tricks to attract attention—& he doesn’t need to! The place of Wells in pure literature is distinctly problematical. As a thinker he is unsurpassed—but most of his works lack a certain imaginative convincingness. They are too didactic—remaining as abstract intellectual problems instead of coming alive. I read “Anthony Adverse” a year or two ago.9 An excellent panoramic glimpse of the late 18th century, though full of curious drawbacks such as the childish overworking of coincidence, the excessive plastering on of sentimentality & naively obtrusive philosophising, the primitive acceptance of the idea of “fate”, & a general slowing-up & letdown during the final third—after the passage of the Alps & entry into France.

  Good luck with your stories—& hope the novel will eventually surpass your present expectations. I’ve never tried a full-length novel, though some of my stuff reaches “novelette” length. The much-rejected “Mountains of Madness” comes to about 38,000 words.10

  W T is rather lousy of late. In the Sept. issue “Vulthoom” & “Shambler from the Stars” barely save it from being a total loss, while “Cold Grey God” & “Last Guest” perform a similar service for the Oct. number.11 In one of the Sept. stories the author spoke of New Orleans as a full-fledged city—cathedral & all—in 1720, whereas of course the site was scarcely cleared at that early date.12 As for the covers—I never yet saw one that was worth the coloured inks expended on it. Of course the luscious & irrelevant nudes are rabblecatchers & nothing else but—an attempt by Wright to attract two publics instead of one.13 A similar attempt is represented by the ringing-in of cheap detective junk with a thin, pseudo-weird veneer. What will ever become of the magazine I’m hanged if I know! By the way—have you seen The Phantagraph, published by one Wilson Shepherd of Oakman in your own state & edited by Donald A. Wollheim of 801 West End Ave., N.Y.C.? Crudely printed by William Crawford, but not so bad as to contents. It is endeavouring to take the place of the lamented Fantasy Fan.

  Derleth has another detective novel out—“The Sign of Fear”.14 Price is starting out on a motor trip to Mexico—& will visit Robert E. Howard en route. You’ll be sorry to hear that Clark Ashton Smith’s mother died Sept. 9—a not unexpected event, yet no less a blow on that account. W. Paul Cook has gone to St. Louis to engage in a neighbourood newspaper venture.

  I’m enclosing a circular & application blank of the National Amateur Press Association—an organisation which sometimes proves very helpful to the literary experimenter, & in which I’ve been active for 21 years. It is with this society that Barlow’s Dragon-Fly is affiliated. Despite its occasional crude spots, I think you’d find membership very pleasant and encouraging, hence I hope you’ll utilise the blank. I am now a verse critic in the association, & have just prepared my report for the official organ.15

  All good wishes—

  Yrs most cordially & sincerely,

  H. P. Lovecraft

  P.S. Just had word of the acceptance by Astounding Stories of my long novelette “At the Mountains of Madness”, previously rejected by Wright. Don’t know when it will appear.

  Notes

  1. The first full moon following the harvest moon, which is the full moon occurring nearest the autumnal equinox.

  2. John C. Calhoun (1782–1850).

  3. Edward H. Cole.

  4. White’s essay was not published in the Dragon-Fly.

  5. Anna Karenina (MGM, 1935), produced by David O. Selznick, directed by Clarence Brown; starring Greta Garbo and Fredric March.

  6. “The Doom That Came to Sarnath” (1919), Marvel Tales of Science and Fantasy 1, No. 4 (March–April 1935): 157–63; orig. The Scot (June 1920).

  7. H. G. Wells, Julian Huxley, and G. P. Wells, The Science of Life: A Summary of Contemporary Knowledge about Life and Its Possibilities (1929–30; 3 vols.). See letter 6; cf. SL 5.256. The book was lent to HPL by J. Vernon Shea.

  8. H. G. Wells (1866–1946), The Shape of Things to Come (1933).

  9. Hervey Allen (1889–1949), Anthony Adverse (1933). Cf. SL 4.379, 390.

  10. HPL had submitted At the Mountains of Madness (1931) only to WT.
By “much-rejected” he refers to the generally cold reception of the story by his correspondents.

  11. WT, September 1935: Clark Ashton Smith, “Vulthoom”; Robert Bloch, “The Shambler from the Stars”; WT, October 1935; C. L. Moore, “The Cold Gray God”; John Flanders, “The Mystery of the Last Guest.”

  12. Ethel Helene Coen, “One Chance.”

  13. Both covers were by Margaret Brundage (1900–1976). Her artwork was featured on virtually all covers of WT from mid-1933 through mid-1936.

  14. Sign of Fear: A Judge Peck Mystery (New York: Loring & Mussey, 1935; LL 236).

  15. “Some Current Amateur Verse,” National Amateur 58, No. 2 (December 1935): 14–15.

  [6] [ALS]

  66 College St.,

  Providence, R.I.,

  Dec. 20, 1935.

  Dear White:—

  Thanks for the congratulations—& you can double ’em if you like, for no sooner had the “Mts. of Madness” incident sunk into my consciousness than I was given a second pleasant surprise . . . . in the form of another cheque from Street & Smith. It seems that Donald Wandrei, to whom I had lent my newest novelette “The Shadow out of Time”, had taken the liberty of submitting the MS. to Astounding without my knowledge—& through some inexplicable coincidence the editor was favourable again! This certainly was a lifesaving windfall, & it is needless to say that I feel tremendously encouraged by the incident. I know that such “winning streaks” don’t keep up—but the impression is pleasant while it lasts. This dual stroke gave me such a psychological boost that I’ve just written a new tale—a short specimen called “The Haunter of the Dark”. From what I hear, the “Mts.” will be a 3-part story in the February, March & April Astounding. I’ve no idea when the “Shadow” will appear.1

  Yes—Derleth certainly is landing big! I must see his Atlantic piece.2 It is very probable that Scribners will henceforward be his publishers, & that he will embark on a series of historical novels dealing with his native Wisconsin background. In preparation for this series he is conducting a course of antiquarian research which puts me to shame. He is going exhaustively over all the old records, newspapers, & diaries he can find in local files, libraries, & attics, & is hiring people to copy headlines & topics from the Milwaukee papers of 50 or 75 years ago. He means to know those times as intimately as if he had lived in them—& the result will be apparent when he comes to write the novels. Of all our group, Derleth is certainly making the greatest progress toward a solid place in literature.

  Congratulations on the further Quill placements—you’ll be giving Derleth a run for his money before long! Don’t be discouraged because your present work fails to satisfy you. Every new effort is invaluable practice, & one by one you will overcome the various problems of composition. From what I have seen of your work, I’d tend to say that you are making an unusually good start—& the extent of your reading is also a favourable element.

  Commiserations on the loss of your one first-rate professor.3 That surely is a blow—but with the start you have I fancy you’ll be able to extract considerable from the course as it is. Meanwhile let me congratulate you upon securing material from Howell Vines. I simply must get hold of something of his—for he seems to be the sort of chap I respect . . . . a man who writes honestly, not “pleasantly”, & who will not make himself trivial with the artificial, jackin-the-box device called plot! I can sympathise with his inability to write when worried—& also with his perpetual brokeness! Poverty & anxiety certainly are—as he would say—the goddamdest sons of bitches!

  You surely were lucky to get that haul of 16 records for 80¢! I can imagine what a boon the phonograph is to a discriminating music lover. In these latter years I fancy the instrument is acquiring a new dignity and status—becoming a fixture among persons who wish to hear particular selections at particular times, rather than an indiscriminative purveyor of jazz to the herd. The radio has largely absorbed the old-time army of casual phonograph-users.

  Glad you have some new bookcases. Don’t worry about the empty spaces—they’ll fill up before you know it, so that a fresh problem of congestion will be on your hands. I keep getting new bookcases, but the volumes pile up & overflow despite all I can do. Nowadays I try to get the sort of cases which take the least space—plain, shallow ones which can be piled atop one another. The effect is that of mere shelving—but of course the cases can be moved, whereas shelving can’t. I also have ancestral bookcases of a more pretentious sort, some of them with glass doors. One of the latter has its upper shelf reserved for curiosities—an Aztec image, an Egyptian ushabti.4 a primitive African idol, & so on—a museum in miniature, as it were. I really need more space for this kind of thing, & wish I had a regular display case. Quaint, ancient, & exotic objects exercise a strong fascination upon me.

  Your bibliothecal accessions strike me as very sensible on the whole. I seem to have read most of them—though oddly enough, I’ve never read Rabelais! Incidentally, I lost my copy of “Sartor Resartus.5 when moving into #66—don’t know where it slipped to, but it was the only missing item when the great rearrangement was completed. “Peter Schlemiel.6 disappointed me when I read it a decade ago. It had been very strongly recommended, but I found it curiously flat. On the other hand, I’m an enthusiastic “Undine.7 fan. I can understand the fascination exerted upon you by the pictures in historical manuals. They have always charmed me, & I could point to dozens which seem to open gates into a magical world of the past. A couple of years ago I found a marvellous set of 10¢ books at Woolworth’s—all pictures, but covering British history from neolithic times to the present in considerable detail. Everything illustrated—events, persons, architecture, landscape, costume, articles in common use—a veritable pictorial museum. It would be a marvellous aid if one were composing a story with a bygone setting. It is indeed seldom that we can capture from our youthful fairy-tale reading the same thrill that we derived when 4 or 5 years old—although I’ll confess that the Arabian Nights (Andrew Lang’s edition.8 still gives me a kick. What duplicates best the glamour & adventurous expectancy of juvenile reading in my case is Dunsany. “A Dreamer’s Tales”.9 when I discovered them at the age of 29, gave me precisely the same feeling that Lang’s Arabian Nights did when I was 5. Proust is certainly solid & important— the greatest figure, without question, of the early 20th century. I’ve read “Swann’s Way” & “Within a Budding Grove”, & mean to go through the whole series some day.10 It certainly forms a rich & vivid picture of an age—or one angle of an age. You are certainly right in believing that one should know the standard older authors—must have, that is, a sympathetic understanding of the whole literary stream which has moulded our perspective & modes of expression— in order to write intelligently & well. One of the unfortunate things about the present age is its plethora of raw, crude books—things written without background or grace, & with the superficial, fumbling diction of the ignorant & traditionless.

  Glad you had an opportunity to see Cornelia Otis Skinner11—who is now in Providence, & of whose work my late elder aunt was especially fond. Her father was certainly a great old boy—I recall him in such things as “Kismet”. He must be getting toward 80 now, but is still active in many ways. Not long ago I read an article of his—either in Harpers or the Atlantic..12 I never saw a performance of Miss Skinner’s, since I am curiously unappreciative of dramatic readings. I require a full cast and scenery to get my imagination really working. In late years my interest in drama has greatly waned, & I see very few cinemas. Like you, I deplore the inability of cinema performers to sink themselves in their parts. I agree concerning the merits of Charles Laughton, whom I have seen as Nero, Henry VIII, Dr. Moreau, Edward Moulton-Barrett, & Inspector Javert.13 His Henry was surely magnificent, & his Nero scarcely less distinctive in its way. Speaking of Nero & books about him—have you read “The Bloody Poet”, by Desider Kostolanyi.14 which was published 7 or 8 years ago? It got at the frustrated artist side of the poor old scab rather well. Further anent the theatr
e—I heard a pretty good lecture on the recent work of Shaw by the critic Bonamy Dobrée the other night. Also was invited to see the Le Gallienne repertory company last month—in two clever & surprisingly traditional comedies by the brothers Quintero. Smooth but undistinguished. They had “Rosmersholm.15 the next night, which I’d a damn sight rather have seen. Just my luck to get invited to the wrong show!

  Hope the Frentz performance didn’t disappoint you. My aunt went to hear Kreisler the other night, but I didn’t.

  No especial events hereabouts—& winter is obviously at hand. 5-inch snow Nov. 23—earliest in the history of the local weather bureau. I am reading the Wells-Huxley biological outline—“The Science of Life”—& find it a truly monumental piece of popular exposition. ¶ All good wishes—

  Merry Christmas & Happy New Year—Yrs most cordially—

  H P L

  Notes

  1. Astounding paid HPL a total of $630 for the two stories, $350 (less $35 commission to Julius Schwartz) for At the Mountains of Madness and $280 for “The Shadow out of Time” (June 1936).

  2. August Derleth, “The Alphabet Begins with AAA,” Atlantic Monthly 156, No. 6 (December 1935): 734–39.

  3. August H. Mason.

  4. A gift from Samuel Loveman (see SL 4.347).

  5. By Thomas Carlyle. An edition was found in HPL’s library (see LL 154).

  6. Adelbert von Chamisso (1781–1838), Peter Schlemihls wundersame Geschichte (1814); tr. as Peter Schlemihl. The novel was mentioned in the original version of “Supernatural Horror in Literature” (Recluse, 1927), where HPL says of it: “[It] tells of a man who lost his own shadow as the consequence of a misdeed, and of the strange developments that resulted.”

  7. Friedrich Heinrich Karl, freiherr de La Motte-Fouqué (1777–1843), Undine (1811). HPL had an edition with Sintram and His Companions and other works (LL 513).

  8. The Arabian Nights Entertainments, selected by Andrew Lang (New York: Longmans, Green, 1898; LL 38), given to HPL by his mother on Christmas 1898.