In this luminous Company I was tolerated more because of my Years than for my Wit or Learning; being no Match at all for the rest. My Friendship for the celebrated Monsieur Voltaire was ever a Cause of Annoyance to the Doctor; who was deeply orthodox, and who us’d to say of the French Philosopher: “Vir est acerrimi Ingenii et paucarum Literarum.”
Mr. Boswell, a little teazing Fellow whom I had known for some Time previously, us’d to make Sport of my aukward Manners and old-fashion’d Wig and Cloaths. Once coming in a little the worse for Wine (to which he was addicted) he endeavour’d to lampoon me by means of an Impromptu in verse, writ on the Surface of the Table; but lacking the Aid he usually had in his Composition, he made a bad grammatical Blunder. I told him, he shou’d not try to pasquinade the Source of his Poesy. At another time Bozzy (as we us’d to call him) complain’d of my Harshness toward new Writers in the Articles I prepar’d for The Monthly Review.[10] He said, I push’d every Aspirant off the Slopes of Parnassus. “Sir,” I reply’d, “you are mistaken. They who lose their Hold do so from their own Want of Strength; but desiring to conceal their Weakness, they attribute the Absence[11] of Success to the first Critick that mentions them.” I am glad to recall that Dr. Johnson upheld me in this Matter.
Dr. Johnson was second to no Man in the Pains he took to revise the bad Verses of others; indeed, ’tis[12] said that in the book of poor blind old Mrs. Williams, there are scarce two lines which are not the Doctor’s. At one Time Johnson recited to me some lines by a Servant to the Duke of Leeds, which had so amus’d him, that he had got them by Heart. They are on the Duke’s Wedding, and so much resemble in Quality the Work of other and more recent poetick Dunces, that I cannot forbear copying them:
“When the Duke of Leeds shall marry’d be
To a fine young Lady of high Quality
How happy will that Gentlewoman be
In his Grace of Leeds’ good Company.”
I ask’d the Doctor, if he had ever try’d making Sense of this Piece; and upon his saying he had not, I amus’d myself with the following Amendment of it:
When Gallant LEEDS auspiciously shall wed
The virtuous Fair, of antient Lineage bred,
How must the Maid rejoice with conscious Pride
To win so great an Husband to her Side!
On shewing this to Dr. Johnson, he said, “Sir, you have straightened out the Feet, but you have put neither Wit nor Poetry into the Lines.”
It wou’d afford me Gratification to tell more of my Experiences with Dr. Johnson and his circle of Wits; but I am an old Man, and easily fatigued. I seem to ramble along without much Logick or Continuity when I endeavour to recall the Past; and fear I light upon but few Incidents which others have not before discuss’d. Shou’d my present Recollections meet with Favour, I might later set down some further Anecdotes of old Times of which I am the only Survivor. I recall many Things of Sam Johnson and his Club, having kept up my Membership in the Latter long after the Doctor’s Death, at which I sincerely mourn’d. I remember how John Burgoyne, Esq., the General, whose Dramatick and Poetical Works were printed after his Death, was blackballed by three Votes; probably because of his unfortunate Defeat in the American War, at Saratoga. Poor John! His Son fared better, I think, and was made a Baronet. But I am very tired. I am old, very old, and[13] it is Time for my Afternoon Nap.
Notes
Editor’s Note: There is only a single text of this story: its first and only appearance, United Amateur (November 1917). HPL has clearly written the story in a generally authentic version of late seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century style, although not consistently so (not all nouns are capitalised). As the story was typeset by W. Paul Cook (Official Publisher of the UAPA for the 1917–18 term), one can assume that the text has been printed accurately. (In that appearance, boldface was used for emphasis; italics have been substituted here.)
Text: A = United Amateur 17, No. 2 (November 1917): 21–24.
1. occurrences] ocurrences A
2. of the 10th] of the 10th A
3. Twelvemonth] Twelve-/month A
4. “London”,] “London,” A
5. deterré.’ ] deterre.’ A
6. Lost’!”] Lost!’” A
7. prose] Prose A
8. The] The A
9. “Reliques”,] “Reliques,” A
10. The Monthly Review.] The Monthly Review. A
11. Absence] absence A
12. ’tis] tis A
13. and] om. A
Polaris
Into the north window[1] of my chamber glows the Pole Star with uncanny light. All through the long hellish hours of blackness it shines there. And in the autumn of the year, when the winds from the north curse and whine, and the red-leaved trees of the swamp mutter things to one another[2] in the small hours of the morning under the horned waning moon, I sit by the casement and watch that star. Down from the heights reels the glittering Cassiopeia as the hours wear on, while Charles’ Wain lumbers up from behind the vapour-soaked swamp trees that sway in the night-wind.[3] Just before dawn Arcturus winks ruddily from above the cemetery on the low hillock, and Coma Berenices shimmers weirdly afar off in the mysterious east; but still the Pole Star leers down from the same place in the black vault, winking hideously like an insane watching eye which strives to convey some strange message, yet recalls nothing save that it once had a message to convey. Sometimes, when it is cloudy, I can sleep.
Well do I remember the night of the great Aurora, when over the swamp played the shocking coruscations[4] of the daemon-light.[5] After the beams[6] came clouds, and then I slept.
And it was under a horned waning moon that I saw the city for the first time. Still and somnolent did it lie, on a strange plateau in a hollow betwixt strange peaks. Of ghastly marble were its walls and its towers, its columns, domes, and pavements. In the marble streets were marble pillars, the upper parts of which were carven into the images of grave bearded men. The air was warm and stirred not. And overhead, scarce ten degrees from the zenith, glowed that watching Pole Star. Long did I gaze on the city, but the day came not. When the red Aldebaran, which blinked low in the sky but never set, had crawled a quarter of the way around the horizon, I saw light and motion in the houses and the streets. Forms strangely robed, but at once noble and familiar, walked abroad,[7] and under the horned waning moon men talked wisdom in a tongue which I understood, though it was unlike any language I had ever known. And when the red Aldebaran had crawled more than half way[8] around the horizon, there were again darkness and silence.
When I awaked, I was not as I had been. Upon my memory was graven the vision of the city, and within my soul had arisen another and vaguer recollection, of whose nature I was not then certain. Thereafter, on the cloudy nights when I could sleep, I saw the city often; sometimes under that horned waning moon,[9] and sometimes[10] under the hot[11] yellow rays of a sun which did not set, but which wheeled low around the horizon. And on the clear nights the Pole Star leered as never before.
Gradually I came to wonder what might be my place in that city on the strange plateau betwixt strange peaks. At first content to view the scene as an all-observant uncorporeal[12] presence, I now desired to define my relation to it, and to speak my mind amongst the grave men who conversed each day in the public squares. I said to myself, “This[13] is no dream, for by what means can I prove the greater reality of that other life in the house of stone and brick south of the sinister swamp and the cemetery on the low hillock, where the Pole Star peers[14] into my north window each night?”
One night as I listened to the discourse in the large square containing many statues, I felt a change; and perceived that I had at last a bodily form. Nor was I[15] a stranger in the streets of Olathoë,[16] which lies on the plateau of Sarkis,[17] betwixt the peaks Noton and Kadiphonek. It was my friend Alos who spoke, and his speech was one that pleased my soul, for it was the speech of a true man and patriot. That night had the news come of Daikos’ fall, and of the advance of
the Inutos;[18] squat, hellish,[19] yellow fiends who five years ago had appeared out of the unknown west to ravage the confines of our kingdom, and finally to besiege[20] our towns. Having taken the fortified places at the foot of the mountains, their way now lay open to the plateau, unless every citizen could resist with the strength of ten men. For the squat creatures were mighty in the arts of war, and knew not the scruples of honour which held back our tall, grey-eyed men of Lomar from ruthless conquest.
Alos, my friend, was commander of all the forces on the plateau, and in him lay the last hope of our country. On this occasion he spoke of the perils to be faced,[21] and exhorted the men of Olathoë,[22] bravest of the Lomarians, to sustain the traditions of their ancestors, who when forced to move southward from Zobna before the advance of the great ice-sheet (even as our descendants must some day flee from the land of Lomar),[23] valiantly and victoriously swept aside the hairy, long-armed, cannibal Gnophkehs that stood in their way. To me Alos denied a warrior’s part, for I was feeble and given to strange faintings when subjected to stress and hardships. But my eyes were the keenest in the city, despite the long hours I gave each day to the study of the Pnakotic[24] manuscripts and the wisdom of the Zobnarian Fathers; so my friend, desiring not to doom me to inaction, rewarded me with that duty which was second to nothing in importance. To the watch-tower [25] of Thapnen he sent me, there to serve as the eyes of our army. Should the Inutos attempt to gain the citadel by the narrow pass behind the peak Noton,[26] and thereby surprise the garrison, I was to give the signal of fire which would warn the waiting soldiers and save the town from immediate disaster.
Alone I mounted the tower, for every man of stout body was needed in the passes below. My brain was sore dazed with excitement and fatigue, for I had not slept in many days; yet was my purpose firm, for I loved my native land of Lomar, and the marble city of Olathoë[27] that lies betwixt the peaks of Noton and Kadiphonek.
But as I stood in the tower’s topmost chamber, I beheld the horned waning moon, red and sinister, quivering through the vapours that hovered over the distant valley of Banof. And through an opening in the roof glittered the pale Pole Star, fluttering as if alive, and leering like a fiend and tempter. Methought its spirit whispered evil counsel, soothing me to traitorous somnolence with a damnable rhythmical promise which it repeated over and over:
“Slumber, watcher, till the spheres[28]
Six and twenty thousand years
Have revolv’d, and I return
To the spot where now I burn.
Other stars anon shall rise
To the axis of the skies;
Stars that soothe and stars that bless
With a sweet forgetfulness:[29]
Only when my round is o’er
Shall the past disturb thy door.”[30]
Vainly[31] did[32] I struggle with my drowsiness, seeking to connect these strange words with some lore of the skies which I had learnt from the Pnakotic manuscripts. My head, heavy and reeling, drooped to my breast, and when next I looked up it was in a dream;[33] with the Pole Star grinning at me through a window from over the horrible swaying trees of a dream-swamp.[34] And I am still dreaming.
In my shame and despair I sometimes scream frantically, begging the dream-creatures around me to waken me ere the Inutos steal up the pass behind the peak Noton and take the citadel by surprise; but these creatures are daemons,[35] for they laugh at me and tell me I am not dreaming. They mock me whilst I sleep, and whilst the squat yellow foe may be creeping silently upon[36] us. I have failed in my duty and betrayed the marble city of Olathoë;[37] I have proven false to Alos, my friend and commander. But still these shadows of my dream[38] deride me. They say[39] there is no land of Lomar, save in my nocturnal imaginings;[40] that in those[41] realms where the Pole Star[42] shines high[43] and red Aldebaran crawls low around the horizon, there has been naught save ice and snow for thousands of years,[44] and never a man[45] save squat[46] yellow creatures,[47] blighted by the cold, whom they call “Esquimaux”.[48]
And as I writhe in my guilty agony, frantic to save the city whose peril[49] every moment grows, and vainly striving to shake off this unnatural dream of a house of stone and brick south of a sinister swamp and a cemetery on a low hillock;[50] the Pole Star, evil and monstrous, leers down from the black vault, winking hideously like an insane watching eye which strives to convey some strange[51] message, yet recalls nothing save that it once had a message to convey.
Notes
Editor’s Note: The story was first published in the Philosopher (December 1920). HPL apparently made slight revisions in the story for the next appearance, National Amateur (May 1926), although the T.Ms. in which these revisions were made does not survive. It is unclear whether HPL provided a T.Ms. or a clipping of the National Amateur appearance for the next publication, Fantasy Fan (February 1934); I suspect the latter, since HPL was in the habit of discarding his T.Mss. when any published version had appeared. The Fantasy Fan appearance made a number of errors; there is no evidence that this text has been revised from the National Amateur appearance. Arkham House editions follow the Fantasy Fan text.
Texts: A = Philosopher 1, No. 1 (December 1920): 3–5; B = National Amateur 48, No. 5 (May 1926): 48–49; C = Fantasy Fan 1, No. 6 (February 1934): 83–85; D = Dagon and Other Macabre Tales (Arkham House, 1965), 19–22. Copy-text: B.
1. north window] North Window D
2. one another] each other A
3. night-wind.] night wind. A, B, C, D
4. coruscations] corruscations C
5. daemon-light.] demon-light. A; deamon-/light. B; daemon light. C, D
6. beams] beam C, D
7. abroad,] abroad C, D
8. half way] halfway C; half-way D
9. moon,] moon B; om. D [see below]
10. under that horned waning moon, and sometimes] om. D
11. hot] hot, D
12. uncorporeal] uncorpreal B
13. “This] “this A, B
14. peers] peeps C, D
15. I] om. C
16. Olathoë,] Olathoe, A, B, C, D
17. Sarkis,] Sarkia, D
18. Inutos;] Inutos, A, B
19. hellish,] hellish B, C, D
20. kingdom, and finally to besiege] kingdom and finally to beseige C; kingdom, and to besiege many of D
21. faced,] faced C, D
22. Olathoë,] Olathoe, A, B, C, D
23. ice-sheet (. . .),] ice-sheet, (. . .) A, C; ice-sheet (. . .) B; ice sheet (. . .) D
24. Pnakotic] Dnakotic C
25. watch-tower] watch-/tower C; watchtower D
26. Noton,] Noton C, D
27. of Olathoë] of Olathoe A; Olathoe B, C, D
28. spheres] spheres, C, D
29. forgetfulness:] forgetfulness; B
30. Only when . . . door.”] Only when my round is through / Shall the past come back to you.” A
31. ¶ Vainly] Vainly A, C
32. did] dld C
33. dream;] dream, D
34. dream-swamp.] dream swamp. D
35. daemons,] demons, A
36. upon] upou C
37. Olathoë;] Olathoe; A, B, C, D
38. dream] dreams C, D
39. say] _ay C [type failed to print]
Collected Fiction Volume 1 (1905-1925): A Variorum Edition Page 7