Collected Fiction Volume 1 (1905-1925): A Variorum Edition

by H. P. Lovecraft

  Very brightly did the moon shine on the night I answered the call, and I walked out over the waters to the White Ship on a bridge of moonbeams. The man who had beckoned now spoke a welcome to me in a soft language I seemed to know well, and the hours were filled with soft songs of the oarsmen as we glided away into a mysterious South, golden with the glow of that full, mellow moon.

  And when the day dawned, rosy and effulgent, I beheld the green shore of far lands, bright and beautiful, and to me unknown. Up from the sea rose lordly terraces of verdure, tree-studded, and shewing here and there the gleaming white roofs and colonnades of strange temples. As we drew nearer the green shore the bearded man told me of that land, the Land[11] of Zar, where dwell all the dreams and thoughts of beauty that come to men once and then are forgotten. And when I looked upon the terraces again I saw that what he said was true, for among the sights before me were many things I had once seen through the mists beyond the horizon and in the phosphorescent depths of ocean. There too were forms and fantasies more splendid than any[12] I had ever known; the visions of young poets who died in want before the world could learn of what they had seen and dreamed. But we did not set foot upon the sloping meadows of Zar, for it is told that he who treads them may nevermore return to his native place.[13]

  As the White Ship sailed silently away from the templed terraces of Zar, we beheld on the distant horizon ahead the spires of a mighty city; and the bearded man said to me, “This is Thalarion, the City of a Thousand Wonders, wherein reside all those mysteries that man has striven in vain to fathom.” And I looked again, at closer range, and saw that the city was greater than any city I had known or dreamed of before. Into the sky the spires of its temples reached, so that no man might behold their peaks; and far back beyond the horizon stretched the grim, grey[14] walls, over which one might spy only a few roofs, weird and ominous, yet adorned with rich friezes and alluring sculptures. I yearned mightily to enter this fascinating yet repellent city, and besought[15] the bearded man to land me at the stone[16] pier by the huge carven gate Akariel; but he gently denied my wish, saying:[17] “Into Thalarion, the City of a Thousand Wonders, many have passed but none returned. Therein walk only daemons and mad things that are no longer men, and the streets are white with the unburied bones of those who have looked upon the eidolon Lathi, that reigns over the city.” So the White Ship sailed on past the walls of Thalarion, and followed for many days a southward-flying bird, whose glossy plumage matched the sky out of which it had appeared.

  Then came we to a pleasant coast gay with blossoms of every hue, where as far inland as we could see basked lovely groves and radiant arbours[18] beneath a meridian sun. From bowers beyond our view came bursts of song and snatches of lyric harmony, interspersed with faint laughter so delicious that I urged the rowers onward in my eagerness to reach the scene. And the bearded man spoke no word, but watched me as we approached the lily-lined shore. Suddenly a wind blowing from over the flowery meadows and leafy woods brought a scent at which I trembled. The wind grew stronger, and the air was filled with the lethal, charnel odour[19] of plague-stricken towns and uncovered cemeteries. And as we sailed madly away from that damnable coast the bearded man spoke at last, saying:[20] “This is Xura, the Land of Pleasures Unattained.”

  So once more the White Ship followed the bird of heaven, over warm blessed seas fanned by caressing, aromatic breezes. Day after day and night after night did we sail, and when the moon was full we would listen to soft songs of the oarsmen, sweet as on that distant night when we sailed away from my[21] native land. And it was by moonlight that we anchored at last in the harbour[22] of Sona-Nyl, which is guarded by twin headlands of crystal that rise from the sea and meet in a resplendent arch. This is the Land of Fancy, and we walked to the verdant shore upon a golden bridge of moonbeams.

  In the Land of Sona-Nyl there is neither time nor space,[23] neither suffering nor death; and there I dwelt for many aeons. Green are the groves and pastures, bright and fragrant the flowers, blue and musical the streams, clear and cool the fountains, and stately and gorgeous the temples, castles, and cities of Sona-Nyl. Of that land there is no bound, for beyond each vista of beauty rises another more beautiful. Over the countryside and amidst the splendour[24] of cities rove[25] at will the happy folk, of whom all are gifted with unmarred grace and unalloyed happiness. For the aeons that I dwelt there I wandered blissfully through gardens where quaint pagodas peep from pleasing clumps of bushes, and where the white walks are bordered with delicate blossoms. I climbed gentle hills from whose summits I could see entrancing panoramas of loveliness, with steepled towns nestling in verdant valleys, and with the golden domes of gigantic cities glittering on the infinitely distant horizon. And I viewed by moonlight the sparkling sea, the crystal headlands, and the placid harbour[26] wherein lay anchored the White Ship.

  It was against the full moon one night in the immemorial year of Tharp that I saw outlined the beckoning form of the celestial bird, and felt the first stirrings of unrest. Then I spoke with the bearded man, and told him of my new yearning[27] to depart for remote Cathuria, which no man hath seen, but which all believe to lie beyond the basalt pillars of the West. It is the Land of Hope, and in it shine the perfect ideals of all that we know elsewhere; or at least so men relate. But the bearded man said to me:[28] “Beware of those perilous seas wherein men say Cathuria lies. In Sona-Nyl there is no pain nor[29] death, but who can tell what lies beyond the basalt pillars of the West?” Natheless at the next full moon I boarded the White Ship, and with the reluctant bearded man left the happy harbour[30] for untravelled[31] seas.

  And the bird of heaven flew before, and led us toward the basalt pillars of the West, but this time the oarsmen sang no soft songs under the full moon. In my mind I would often picture the unknown Land of Cathuria with its splendid groves and palaces, and would wonder what new delights there awaited me. “Cathuria,” I would say to myself, “is the abode of gods and the land of unnumbered cities of gold. Its forests are of aloe and sandalwood, even as the fragrant groves of Camorin, and among the trees flutter gay birds sweet with song. On the green and flowery mountains of Cathuria stand temples of pink marble[32] rich with carven and painted glories, and having in their courtyards cool fountains of silver, where purl[33] with ravishing music the scented waters that come from the grotto-born river Narg. And the cities of Cathuria are cinctured with golden walls, and their pavements are also[34] of gold. In the gardens of these cities are strange orchids, and perfumed lakes whose beds are of coral and amber. At night the streets and the gardens are lit with gay lanthorns fashioned from the three-coloured[35] shell of the tortoise, and here resound the soft notes of the singer and the lutanist. And the houses of the cities of Cathuria are all palaces, each built over a fragrant canal bearing the waters of the sacred Narg. Of marble and porphyry are the houses, and roofed with glittering gold that reflects the rays of the sun and enhances the splendour[36] of the cities as blissful gods view them from the distant peaks. Fairest of all is the palace of the great monarch Dorieb, whom some say to be a demigod[37] and others a god. High is the palace of Dorieb, and many are the turrets of marble upon its walls. In its wide halls may[38] multitudes assemble, and here hang the trophies of the ages. And the roof is of pure gold, set upon tall pillars of ruby and azure, and having such carven figures of gods and heroes that he who looks up to those heights seems[39] to gaze upon the living Olympus. And the floor[40] is of glass, under which flow the cunningly lighted waters of the Narg, gay with gaudy fish not known beyond the bounds of lovely Cathuria.”

  Thus would I speak to myself of Cathuria, but ever would the bearded man warn me to turn back to the happy shores of Sona-Nyl; for Sona-Nyl is known of men, while none hath ever beheld Cathuria.

  And on the thirty-first day that we followed the bird, we beheld the basalt pillars of the West. Shrouded in mist they were, so that no man might peer beyond them or see their summits—which indeed some say reach even to the heavens. And the bearded man
again implored me to turn back, but I heeded him not; for from the mists beyond the basalt pillars I fancied there came the notes of singer and lutanist;[41] sweeter than the sweetest songs of Sona-Nyl, and sounding mine own praises; the praises of me, who had voyaged far under[42] the full moon and dwelt in the Land of Fancy.[43]

  So to the sound of melody the White Ship sailed into the mist betwixt the basalt pillars of the West. And when the music ceased and the mist lifted, we beheld not the Land of Cathuria, but a swift-rushing resistless sea, over which our helpless barque was borne toward some unknown goal. Soon to our ears came the distant thunder of falling waters, and to our eyes appeared on the far horizon ahead the titanic spray of a monstrous cataract, wherein the oceans of the world drop down to abysmal nothingness. Then did the bearded man say to me[44] with tears on his cheek, “We have rejected the beautiful Land of Sona-Nyl, which we may never behold again. The gods are greater than men, and they have conquered.” And I closed my eyes before the crash that I knew would come, shutting out the sight of the celestial bird which flapped its mocking blue wings over the brink of the torrent.

  Out of that crash came darkness, and I heard the shrieking of men and of things which were not men. From the East tempestuous winds arose, and chilled me as I crouched on the slab of damp stone which had risen beneath my feet. Then as I heard another crash I opened my eyes and beheld myself upon the platform of that lighthouse from[45] whence I had sailed so many aeons ago. In the darkness below there loomed the vast blurred outlines of a vessel breaking up on the cruel rocks, and as I glanced out over the waste I saw that the light had failed for the first time since my grandfather had assumed its care.

  And in the later watches of the night, when I went within the tower, I saw on the wall a calendar which still remained as when I had left it at the hour I sailed away. With the dawn I descended the tower and looked for wreckage upon the rocks, but what I found was only this: a strange dead bird whose hue was as of the azure sky, and a single shattered spar, of a whiteness greater than that of the wave-tips or of the mountain snow.

  And thereafter the ocean told me its secrets no more; and though many times since has the moon shone full and high in the heavens, the White Ship from the South came never again.

  Notes

  Editor’s Note: The story was first published in the United Amateur (November 1919), typeset by W. Paul Cook; it is virtually identical to the surviving T.Ms., one of the single-spaced T.Mss. sent to Weird Tales in 1923. The Weird Tales (March 1927) appearance derives from the T.Ms., and the Arkham House editions derive from the Weird Tales text. An A.Ms. surfaced in the 1970s. It is a fair copy prepared for Alvin Earl Perry on 5 September 1934. Aside from one or two apparent slips of the pen, it appears to embody deliberate revisions from the T.Ms., and these have been incorporated into the present text.

  Texts: A = T.Ms. (JHL); B = United Amateur 19, No. 2 (November 1919): 30–33; C = Weird Tales 9, No. 3 (March 1927): 386–89; D = A.Ms. (published in facsimile in Whispers 1, No. 4 [July 1974]: [32–40]); E = Dagon and Other Macabre Tales (Arkham House, 1965), 41–46. Copy-text: D.

  1. grey] gray C, E

  2. odours] odors C, E

  3. things,] things C, E

  4. grey,] gray, C, E

  5. white,] white A, B, C, E

  6. grey vapours] gray vapors C, E

  7. the] om. D

  8. sometimes] some times E

  9. distent] distant C, E

  10. fair ] far E

  11. Land] land E

  12. any] om. B

  13. place.] shore. A, B, C, E

  14. grey] gray C, E

  15. besought] beseeched B

  16. stone] shone E

  17. saying:] saying, A, B, C, E

  18. arbours] arbors C, E

  19. odour] odor C, E

  20. saying:] saying, A, B, C, E

  21. my] my far A, B, C, E

  22. harbour] harbor C, E

  23. space,] space; D

  24. splendour] splendor C, E

  25. rove] can move A, B, C, E

  26. harbour] harbor C, E

  27. yearning] yearnings C, E

  28. me:] me, A, B, C, E

  29. nor] or E

  30. harbour] harbor C, E

  31. untravelled] untraveled C, E

  32. marble] marble, A, B, C, E

  33. purl] purr E

  34. are also] also are A, C, E

  35. three-coloured] three-colored C, E

  36. splendour] splendor C, E

  37. demigod] demi-/god C; demi-god E

  38. may] many E

  39. seems] seem B

  40. floor] floor of the palace A, B, C, E

  41. singer and lutanist;] singers and lutanists; E

  42. under] from E

  43. Fancy. ¶] Fancy. E

  44. me] me, C, E

  45. from] om. C, E

  The Street

  There be those who say that things and places have souls, and there be those who say they have not; I dare not say, myself, but I will tell of The[1] Street.

  Men of strength and honour fashioned that Street; good,[2] valiant men of our blood who had come from the Blessed Isles across the sea. At first it was but a path trodden by bearers of water from the woodland spring to the cluster of houses by the beach. Then,[3] as more men came to the growing cluster of houses and looked about for places to dwell, they built cabins along the north side;[4] cabins of stout oaken logs with masonry on the side toward the forest, for many Indians lurked there with fire-arrows. And in a few years more, men built cabins on the south side of The Street.

  Up and down The Street walked grave men in conical hats, who most of the time carried muskets or fowling pieces. And there were also their bonneted[5] wives and sober children. In the evening these men with their wives and children would sit about gigantic hearths and read and speak. Very simple were the things of which they read and spoke, yet things which gave[6] them courage and goodness and helped them by day to subdue the forest and till the fields. And the children would listen,[7] and learn of the laws and deeds of old, and of that dear England which they had never seen,[8] or could not remember.

  There was war, and thereafter no more Indians troubled The Street. The men, busy with labour,[9] waxed prosperous and as happy as they knew how to be. And the children grew up comfortably,[10] and more families came from the Mother Land to dwell on The Street. And the children’s children, and the newcomers’[11] children, grew up. The town was now a city, and one by one the cabins gave place to houses;[12] simple, beautiful houses of brick and wood, with stone steps and iron railings and fanlights over the doors. No flimsy creations were these houses, for they were made to serve many a generation. Within there were carven mantels and graceful stairs, and sensible, pleasing furniture, china, and[13] silver, brought from the Mother Land.

  So The Street drank in the dreams of a young people,[14] and rejoiced as its dwellers became more graceful and happy. Where once had been only strength and honour, taste and learning now abode as well. Books[15] and paintings and music came to the houses, and the young men went to the university which rose above the plain to the north. In the place of conical hats and muskets there were three-cornered hats and small-swords, and[16] lace and snowy periwigs. And[17] there were cobblestones[18] over which clattered many a blooded horse and rumbled many a gilded coach; and brick sidewalks with horse blocks and hitching-posts.

  There were in that Street many trees; elms[19] and oaks and maples of dignity; so that in the summer[20] the scene was all soft verdure and twittering bird-song. And behind the houses were walled rose-gardens with hedged paths and sundials, where at evening the moon and stars would shine bewitchingly while fragrant blossoms glistened with dew.

  So The Street dreamed on, past wars, calamities, and changes.[21] Once most of the young men went away, and some never came back. That was when they furled the Old Flag[22] and put up a new Banner of Stripes and Stars.[23] But though men talked of great changes, The Str
eet felt them not;[24] for its folk[25] were still the same, speaking of the old familiar things in the old familiar accents.[26] And the trees still sheltered singing birds, and at evening the moon and stars looked down upon dewy blossoms in the walled rose-gardens.

  In time there were no more swords, three-cornered[27] hats, or periwigs in The Street. How strange seemed the denizens[28] with their walking-sticks, tall beavers, and cropped heads! New sounds came from the distance—first strange puffings and shrieks from the river a mile away,[29] and many years later[30] strange puffings and shrieks and rumblings from other directions. The air was not quite so pure as before, but the spirit of the place had not changed. The blood and soul of the people were as the blood and soul[31] of their ancestors who[32] had fashioned The Street. Nor did the spirit change when they tore open the earth to lay down strange pipes, or when they set up tall posts bearing weird wires. There was so much ancient lore in that Street, that the past could not easily be forgotten.

  Then came days of evil, when many who had known The Street of old knew it no more;[33] and many knew it,[34] who had not known it before. And those who came were never as those who went away;[35] for their accents were coarse and strident, and their mien[36] and faces unpleasing. Their thoughts, too, fought with the wise,[37] just spirit of The Street. So[38] The Street pined silently as its houses fell into decay, and its trees died one by one, and its rose-gardens grew rank with weeds and waste. But it felt a stir of pride one day when again[39] marched forth young men, some of whom never came back. These young men were clad in blue.

  With the years[40] worse fortune came to The Street. Its trees were all gone now, and its rose-gardens were displaced by the backs of cheap,[41] ugly new buildings on parallel streets. Yet the houses remained, despite[42] the ravages of the years and the storms and worms, for they had been made to serve many a generation. New kinds of faces appeared in The Street;[43] swarthy, sinister faces with furtive eyes and odd features, whose owners spoke unfamiliar words and placed signs in known and unknown characters upon most of the musty houses. Push-carts[44] crowded the gutters. A sordid, undefinable stench settled over the place, and the ancient spirit slept.