Delphi Complete Works of H. P. Lovecraft (Illustrated) (271 page)

A Confession of Unfai
th

As a participant in
The Liberal’s
Experience Meeting, wherein amateurs are invited to state their theories of the universe, I must preface all remarks by the qualifying admission that they do not necessarily constitute a permanent view. The seeker of truth for its own sake is chained to no conventional system, but always shapes his philosophical opinions upon what seems to him the best evidence at hand. Changes, therefore, are constantly possible; and occur whenever new or revalued evidence makes them logical.

I am by nature a sceptic and analyst, hence settled early into my present general attitude of cynical materialism, subsequently changing in regard to details and degree rather than to basic ideals. The environment into which I was born was that of the average American Protestant of urban, civilised type — in theory quite orthodox, but in practice very liberal. Morals rather than faith formed the real keynote. I was instructed in the legends of the Bible and of Saint Nicholas at the age of about two, and gave to both a passive acceptance not especially distinguished either for its critical keenness or its enthusiastic comprehension. Within the next few years I added to my supernatural lore the fairy tales of Grimm and the Arabian Nights; and by the time I was five had small choice amongst these speculations so far as truth was concerned, though for attractiveness I favoured the Arabian Nights. At one time I formed a juvenile collection of Oriental pottery and
objets d’art,
announcing myself as a devout Mussulman and assuming the pseudonym of “Abdul Alhazred”. My first positive utterance of a sceptical nature probably occurred before my fifth birthday, when I was told what I really knew before, that “Santa Claus” is a myth. This admission caused me to ask why “God” is not equally a myth. Not long afterwards I was placed in the “infant class” at the Sunday school of the venerable First Baptist Church, an ecclesiastical landmark dating from 1775; and there resigned all vestiges of Christian belief. The absurdity of the myths I was called upon to accept, and the sombre greyness of the whole faith as compared with the Eastern magnificence of Mahometanism, made me definitely an agnostic; and caused me to become so pestiferous a questioner that I was permitted to discontinue attendance. No statement of the kind-hearted and motherly preceptress had seemed to me to answer in any way the doubts I honestly and explicitly expressed, and I was fast becoming a marked “man” through my searching iconoclasm. No doubt I was regarded as a corrupter of the simple faith of the other “infants”.

When I was six my philosophical evolution received its most aesthetically significant impetus — the dawn of Graeco-Roman thought. Always avid for fairy lore, I had chanced on Hawthorne’s
Wonder Book
and
Tanglewood Tales,
and was enraptured by the Hellenic myths even in their Teutonised form. Then a tiny book in the private library of my elder aunt — the story of the Odyssey in “Harper’s Half-Hour Series” — caught my attention. From the opening chapter I was electrified, and by the time I reached the end I was for evermore a Graeco-

Roman. My Bagdad name and affiliations disappeared at once, for the magic of silks and colours faded before that of fragrant templed groves, faun-peopled meadows in the twilight, and the blue, beckoning Mediterranean that billowed mysteriously out from Hellas into the reaches of haunting wounder where dwelt Lotophagi and Laestrygonians, where Aeolus kept his winds and Circe her swine, and where in Thrinacian pastures roamed the oxen of the radiant Helios. As soon as possible I procured an illustrated edition of Bulfinch’s Age
of Fable,
and gave all my time to the reading of the text, in which the true spirit of Hellenism is delightfully preserved, and to the contemplation of the pictures, splendid designs and half-tones of the standard classical statues, and paintings of classical subjects. Before long I was fairly familiar with the principal Grecian myths, and had become a constant visitor at the classical art museums of Providence and Boston. I commenced a collection of small plaster casts of the Greek sculptural masterpieces, and learned the Greek alphabet and the rudiments of the Latin language. I adopted the pseudonym of “Lucius Valerius Messala” — Roman and not Greek, since Rome had a charm all its own for me. My grandfather had travelled observingly through Italy, and delighted me with long first-hand accounts of its beauties and memorials of ancient grandeur. I mention this aesthetic tendency in detail only to lead up to its philosophical result — my last flickering of religious belief. When about seven or eight I was a genuine pagan, so intoxicated with the beauty of Greece that I acquired a half-sincere belief in the old gods and Nature-spirits. I have in literal truth built altars to Pan, Apollo, Diana, and Athena, and have watched for dryads and satyrs in the woods and fields at dusk. Once I firmly thought I beheld some of these sylvan creatures dancing under autumnal oaks; a kind of “religious experience” as true in its way as the subjective ecstasies of any Christian. If a Christian tell me he has
felt
the reality of his Jesus or Jahveh, I can reply that I have
seen
the hoofed Pan and the sisters of the Hesperian Phaëthusa.

But in my ninth year, as I was reading the Grecian myths in their standard poetical translations and thus acquiring unconsciously my taste for Queen-Anne English, the real foundations of my scepticism were laid. Impelled by the fascinating pictures of scientific instruments in the back of Webster’s Unabridged, I began to take an interest in natural philosophy and chemistry, and soon had a promising laboratory in my cellar, and a new stock of simple scientific text-books in my budding library. Ere long I was more of a scientific student than pagan dreamer. In 1897 my leading “literary” work was a “poem” entitled “The New Odyssey”; in 1899 it was a compendious treatise on chemistry in several pencil-scribbled “volumes”. But mythology was by no means neglected. In this period I read much in Egyptian, Hindoo, and Teutonic mythology, and tried experiments in pretending to believe each one, to see which might contain the greatest truth. I had, it will be noted, immediately adopted the method and manner of science! Naturally, having an open and unemotional mind, I was soon a complete sceptic and materialist. My scientific studies had enlarged to include geographical, geological, biological, and astronomical rudiments, and I had acquired the habit of relentless analysis in all matters. My pompous “book” called
Poemata Minora,
written when I was eleven, was dedicated “To the Gods, Heroes, and Ideals of the Ancients”, and harped in disillusioned, world-weary tones on the sorrow of the pagan robbed of his antique pantheon. Some of these very juvenile “poemata” were reprinted in
The Tryout
for April, 1919, under new titles and pseudonyms.

Hitherto my philosophy had been distinctly juvenile and empirical. It was a revolt from obvious falsities and ugliness, but involved no particular cosmic or ethical theory. In ethical questions I had no analytical interest because I did not realise that they were questions. I accepted Victorianism, with consciousness of many prevailing hypocrisies aside from Sabbatarian and supernatural matters, without dispute; never having heard of inquiries which reached “beyond good and evil”. Though at times interested in reforms, notably prohibition (I have never tasted alcoholic liquor), I was inclined to be bored by ethical casuistry; since I believed conduct to be a matter of taste and breeding, with virtue, delicacy, and truthfulness as symbols of gentility. Of my word and honour I was inordinately proud, and would permit no reflections to be cast upon them. I thought ethics too obvious and commonplace to be scientifically discussed, and considered philosophy solely in its relation to truth and beauty. I was, and still am, pagan to the core. Regarding man’s place in Nature, and the structure of the universe, I was as yet unawakened. This awakening was to come in the winter of 1902-3, when astronomy asserted its supremacy amongst my studies.

The most poignant sensations of my existence are those of 1896, when I discovered the Hellenic world, and of 1902, when I discovered the myriad suns and worlds of infinite space. Sometimes I think the latter event the greater, for the grandeur of that growing conception of the universe still excites a thrill hardly to be duplicated. I made of astronomy my principal scientific study, obtaining larger and larger telescopes, collecting astronomical books to the number of 61, and writing copiously on the subject in the form of special and monthly articles in the local daily press. By my thirteenth birthday I was thoroughly impressed with man’s impermanence and insignificance, and by my seventeenth, about which time I did some particularly detailed writing on the subject, I had formed in all essential particulars my present pessimistic cosmic views. The futility of all existence began to impress and oppress me; and my references to human progress, formerly hopeful, began to decline in enthusiasm. Always partial to antiquity, I allowed myself to originate a sort of one-man cult of retrospective suspiration. Realistic analysis, favoured by history and by diffusive scientific leanings which now embraced Darwin, Haeckel, Huxley, and various other pioneers, was checked by my aversion for realistic literature. In fiction I was devoted to the phantasy of Poe; in poetry and essays to the elegant formalism and conventionality of the eighteenth century. I was not at all wedded to what illusions I retained. My attitude has always been cosmic, and I looked on man as if from another planet. He was merely an interesting species presented for study and classification. I had strong prejudices and partialities in many fields, but could not help seeing the race in its cosmic futility as well as in its terrestrial importance. By the time I was of age, I had scant faith in the world’s betterment; and felt a decreasing interest in its cherished pomps and prides. When I entered amateurdom in my twenty-fourth year, I was well on the road to my present cynicism; a cynicism tempered with immeasurable pity for man’s eternal tragedy of aspirations beyond the possibility of fulfilment.

The war confirmed all the views I had begun to hold. The cant of idealists sickened me increasingly, and I employed no more than was necessary for literary embellishment. With me democracy was a minor question, my anger being aroused primarily by the audacity of a challenge to Anglo-Saxon supremacy, and by the needless territorial greed and disgusting ruthlessness of the Huns. I was unvexed by the scruples which beset the average liberal. Blunders I expected; a German defeat was all I asked or hoped for. I am, I hardly need add, a warm partisan of Anglo-American reunion; my opinion being that the division of a single culture into two national units is wasteful and often dangerous. In this case my opinion is doubly strong because I believe that the entire existing civilisation depends on Saxon dominance.

About this time my philosophical thought received its greatest and latest stimulus through discussion with several amateurs; notably Maurice Winter Moe, an orthodox but tolerant Christian and inspiring opponent, and Alfred Galpin, Jr., a youth in approximate agreement with me, but with a mind so far in the lead that comparison is impossible without humility on my part. Correspondence with these thinkers led to a recapitulation and codification of my views, revealing many flaws in my elaborated doctrines, and enabling me to secure greater clearness and consistency. The impetus also enlarged my philosophical reading and research, and broke down many hindering prejudices. I ceased my literal adherence to Epicurus and Lucretius, and reluctantly dismissed free-will forever in favour of determinism.

The Peace Conference, Friedrich Nietzsche, Samuel Butler (the modern), H. L. Mencken, and other influences have perfected my cynicism; a quality which grows more intense as the advent of middle life removes the blind prejudice whereby youth clings to the vapid “all’s right with the world” hallucination from sheer force of desire to have it so. As I near thirty-two I have no particular wishes, save to perceive facts as they are. My objectivity, always marked, is now paramount and unopposed, so that there is nothing I am not
willing
to believe. I no longer really desire anything but oblivion, and am thus ready to discard any gilded illusion or accept any unpalatable fact with perfect equanimity. I can at last concede willingly that the wishes, hopes, and values of humanity are matters of total indifference to the blind cosmic mechanism. Happiness I recognise as an ethical phantom whose simulacrum comes fully to none and even partially to but few, and whose position as the goal of all human striving is a grotesque mixture of farce and tragedy.

Selections from “News Notes
”

July 1917

H. P. Lovecraft, the original “Pooh-Bah” of amateurdom, is now serving as Official Editor, Chairman of the Department of Public Criticism, and Chairman of the Year-Book Committee. He deserves to be expelled from the United for his inexcusable delay in issuing the Year-Book, but vows that he will eventually complete the labour or perish in the attempt.

W. Paul Cook, sterling Old-Timer in amateurdom and editor of
The Vagrant,
will attend the Grand Army encampment at Boston next August with the Sons of Veterans; following which he will make a tour of Southern New England, dropping in at the
Conservative
office, where he will receive a hearty welcome.

Maurice W. Moe, Chief of our Department of Private Criticism, is trying a novel experiment this summer for the sake of his health. He has undertaken a labourer’s work on one of the new buildings at Lawrence College, lifting planks, shovelling mud, and wheeling bags of cement like a seasoned workingman. While painful at first, the regimen is proving actually beneficial, and Mr. Moe is proud of the physical prowess he is beginning to exhibit. One of our amateur poetasters recently perpetrated the following four lines on the unusual occurrence of a learned instructor working manually upon a college building:

To
M. W. M.

Behold the labourer, who builds the walls

That soon shall shine as Learning’s sacred halls;

A man so apt at ev’ry art and trade,

He might well govern what his hands have made!

September 1920:

Amateurdom will remember 1920 as the year when three conventions, instead of the usual two, were held. The third was the unofficial gathering at Boston during the week of July 4, which has been perpetuated by the deliciously whimsical magazine
Epgephi.
Besides the local amateurs, there were present W. Paul Cook, Rheinhart Kleiner, George Julian Houtain, and H. P. Lovecraft, all ex-Presi- dents of the United or the National.

January 1921:

The Boston Amateur Conference of February 22, held at the Quincy House, was successful from every point of view, reflecting the greatest credit upon Mrs. Edith Miniter, who led in arranging it. The event was divided into two major sessions — an afternoon symposium under the chairmanship of Nelson G. Morton, and a dinner, with the renowned “old-timer” Willard Otis Wylie as toastmaster; both evoking a representative display of wit and wisdom from the numerous delegates and visitors. A musical programme featuring Mrs. McMullen’s “Bumble Fairy” proved a delightful interlude. Among those present, aside from the local members, were Mrs. Bertha York Grant Avery, George Julian Houtain, Mrs. K. Leyson Brown, Mrs. E. Dorothy McLoughlin, W. Paul Cook, and H. P. Lovecraft.

May 1921:

Among the major bereavements which have afflicted amateurs during recent months are those of H. P. Lovecraft, whose mother, Mrs. S. Lovecraft, died on May 24, and of Mrs. Daisy Crump Whitehead, whose husband, Edward L. Whitehead, died on July 10. Especial sympathy is due Mrs. Whitehead, since this is the second sudden blow to befall her this year; her brother, Mr. Julian J. Crump, having been instantly killed February 20.

On Saturday, July 2, 1921, peace was formally established between the United States and Germany, and between William J. Dowdell and H. P. Lovecraft. The latter treaty was signed at 9 p m. at 20 Webster St., Allston, Mass., and was confirmed by a joint photograph taken at 2 p m., July 5, by George Julian Houtain. Pictorial evidence will be found in a coming
Zenith.

July 1921:

A revival of
The Conservative
is to be expected in the near future, at least two numbers being likely to appear during the official year. The first will contain a notable group of poems likely to win the approval of the discriminating.

September 1921:

One of the most brilliant and important of recent recruits to the United is Mrs. Sonia H. Greene, 259 Parkside Ave., Brooklyn, N.Y. Mrs. Greene is a Russian by birth, and descended from an illustrious line of artists and educators. Coming at an early age to the United States, she acquired a remarkable degree of erudition mainly through her own initiative; being now a master of several languages and deeply read in all the literatures and philosophies of modern Europe. Probably no more thorough student of Continental literature has ever held membership in amateurdom, whilst our many philosophical members will note with interest her position as a former Nietzschean who has at present rejected the theories of the celebrated iconoclast.

An example of amateur devotion and enthusiasm which should be heeded by all members as an inspiration to renewed activity is afforded by our new recruit, Mrs. Sonia H. Greene of Brooklyn, N.Y. Mrs. Greene, immediately upon receipt of a bundle of United papers and before the arrival of her membership certificate, sent the following phenomenal pledge to the Official Organ Fund; a pledge eloquent of a real and self-sacrificing interest which, if shared by the majority of our workers, would bring about at once that amateur renaissance so long desired, yet always so prone to retreat into the future. Mrs. Greene writes:

“So much do I appreciate the efforts of all those who contribute to the sum total of this pleasurable experience, that I, too, wish to do my meagre ‘bit’... I shall consider it a special privilege to be permitted, each month, to contribute with a modest portion of my earnings; so that those who have not the financial means may make use of mine in advancing the noble cause of amateur journalism. I hereby pledge myself to contribute fifty dollars ($50.00) for the season 1921-
22.”

With such new members, the United’s future need give no anxiety to its warmest well-wishers.

Beyond a doubt, the leading amateur publication of the season is Mrs. Sonia H. Greene’s resplendent October
Rainbow.
The editor is anxious to have this magazine reach every member of the United, and hopes that all who have been accidentally overlooked will notify her at 259 Parkside Ave., Brooklyn, N.Y., that the omission may be repaired.

November 1921:

The marriage on August 30 of George Julian Houtain and E. Dorothy McLaughlin is of much interest to United members. Mr. and Mrs. Houtain plan the issuance of a professional monthly magazine of piquant cast, to be entitled
Home Brew,
among whose contributors will be our members Rheinhart Kleiner
and H. P. Lovecraft.

January 1922:

Readers who noted Mr. Galpin’s friendly review of “The Crawling Chaos” will be interested to know that the opinions of the learned often differ. A prominent politician with a distaste for the “wild, weird tales” of H. P. Lovecraft mistakenly credited this whole narrative to him, and during a denunciation of Love- craftian stories remarked: “We can hardly go them. That Crawling Chaos is the limit. His attempts at Poe-esque tales will hand him — Did you know he was on the staff of ‘The Houtain Home Brew’ to furnish six of his worst—” Mr. Lovecraft awaits his landing with keen interest.

March 1922:

Early in April, New York was favoured by a visit from Samuel Loveman, our Prince of Poets, to whom the local amateurs were proud to do homage. He was the guest of Mrs. Sonia H. Greene, brilliant editor of
The Rainbow,
who magnanimously turned over her entire apartment to Mr. Loveman and to H. P. Lovecraft, who made a pilgrimage to meet him; herself stopping with neighbouring friends. On Sunday, April
9, a
gathering was held at the Greene residence in honour of Mr. Loveman; this event marking also the first personal appearance among the local members of Frank Belknap Long, Jr., distinguished young prose-poet and former First Vice-President of the United. Paul Livingston Keil, new recruit and student of Nature lore, likewise lent his presence. During the visit many of the New York amateurs generously guided Messrs. Loveman and Lovecraft to sundry points of interest; and it will be long before either will forget such sights as the skyline from Manhattan Bridge shewn by Mr. Kleiner, or the bust of James F. Morton, Jr., shewn by the well-beloved original model himself.
Home Brew
office was visited, and a well-arranged musicale heard at the home of the former United member, Adeline E. Leiser, and the unique Russian spectacle “Chauve-Souris” witnessed at the 49th Street Theatre under the benignant guidance of Mrs. Greene.

Other high lights are the visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, participated in by Messrs. Loveman and Lovecraft, and the pilgrimage to Poe’s cottage in Fordham, made by Messrs. Loveman, Morton, Long, Keil, and Lovecraft. In that shrine of America’s greatest literary artist, a brooding atmosphere lingers, and unseen wings seem to brush the cheek of the worshipper. It may be expected that many poetic echoes of the journey will resound on Mr. Loveman’s lyre in the near future.

May 1922:

Dr. David V. Bush, introduced to the United in 1916 by Andrew Francis Lockhart, is rejoining this year and observing the progress lately achieved. Dr. Bush is now a psychological lecturer, speaking in the largest cities of the country and drawing record-breaking crowds wherever he goes. He is the author of several published volumes of verse and prose, the latter mainly psychological in nature, and has been rewarded by phenomenally extensive sales. This year Dr. Bush has established a large psychological magazine,
Mind Power Plus,
which sells for 35 cents a copy and has already attracted a remarkable amount of favourable attention.

Without a doubt the greatest publishing event of the season is the second number of Mrs. Sonia H. Greene’s magnificent
Rainbow.
It is difficult to imagine either mechanical lavishness or excellence of contents carried to a greater extreme, and the United may well be proud of having such an exponent. The editorial tone is a stimulating one, forming an influence in just the proper direction at this trying juncture of amateur history. A special word is due the excellent portraits of eminent amateurs, among which is the first likeness of our poet-laureate, Mrs. S. Lilian McMullen (Lilian Middleton), ever published in Amateur Journalism. Amateurs failing to receive
The Rainbow
are urged to notify the editor at 259 Parkside Ave., Brooklyn, N.Y.

May 1924:

On March 3, 1924, occurred the wedding of Sonia H. Greene, President of the United Amateur Press Association, and H. P. Lovecraft, Official Editor of that society.

The marriage is the culmination of nearly three years of acquaintance, beginning at the Boston convention of the National in 1921, and ripened by a marked community of tastes and parallelism of interests. It may quite justly be added to the long list of amateur journalistic romances which our social chroniclers delight to enumerate and extol.

The ceremony, performed by the Reverend George Benson Cox, took place at historic St. Paul’s Chapel, New York; a noble colonial structure built in 1766 and dignified by the worship of such elder figures as General Washington, Lord Howe, and that Prince of Wales who later became successively the Prince Regent and King George the Fourth.

Following the wedding, the bride and groom departed on a brief tour of the Philadelphia region, whose venerable and historic landmarks accorded well with the scene of the ceremony itself. On Sunday, March 23, after their return to New York, Mr. and Mrs. Lovecraft entertained members of the Blue Pencil Club at their home, 259 Parkside Avenue, Brooklyn, where, needless to say, amateurs will always be welcome.

Mr. and Mrs. Lovecraft plan a continued career of amateur activity, which will begin with a vigorous attempt to resuscitate the United. Already in harmony as to plans and policies, the union will not alter or modify their programme as previously announced; but will add the final touch of cohesiveness to their concerted efforts.

The United receives a striking and auspicious accession in the advent to membership of Clark Ashton Smith, California poet, artist, and fantaisiste. Mr. Smith, who embodies both in poetry and in pictorial art the haunting satanism and grotesquerie of Poe, Baudelaire, John Martin, Doré, Sime, Arthur Machen, and their like, is the author of three volumes of verse, and conducts a column of poetry and epigrams in the
Auburn
(Cal.)
Journal.
The merit of his work is universally hailed by the literati of the west coast, and George Sterling has written two eulogistic prefaces for his published verse. Mr. Smith’s latest book,
Ebony and Crystal,
is dedicated to no less a kindred spirit than our own United product Samuel Loveman.

July 1925:

H. P. Lovecraft, Official Editor, on January 1st moved from Flatbush to the old Brooklyn Heights section, where he may be found at 169 Clinton Street, amidst rows of venerable brick and brownstone. In November he made a somewhat leisurely trip to Philadelphia, staying at the Y.M.C.A., and studying at length the colonial antiquities of the city and its suburbs. In April, accompanied by George Willard Kirk, he paid a hurried visit to Washington and its Virginia environs; where the benevolent and expert guidance of Mrs. Renshaw and Mr. Sechrist enabled him to see much in a sadly abbreviated time.