Harsh Sentences: H. P. Lovecraft v. Ernest Hemingway

It is just possible that Ernest Hemingway knew the name H. P. Lovecraft. Though they moved in very different literary circles and Hemingway was not known to have ever picked up a copy of Weird Tales. Yet they both earned three-star ratings in Edward J. O’Brien’s The Best Short Stories of 1928, Hemingway for “Hills Like White Elephants,” Lovecraft for “The Color Out of Space.” They both made The Best Short Stories of 1929, too. For Hemingway, that was the likely the beginning and end of their association; there are no mentions of the master of the weird tale in Hemingway’s letters. It was easy, in the 1920s and 30s, to know nothing about Lovecraft.

For H. P. Lovecraft, missing Hemingway would have been much more difficult—nor did he. Though they were very different in their fictional focus, output, and success, Lovecraft and Hemingway were still contemporaries, and there are a number of references to Hemingway and his works in Lovecraft’s letters. These mentions of Ernest Hemingway, who had not yet become “Papa” of later years, reflect more on Lovecraft than on Hemingway himself, but show Lovecraft both coming to grips with a Modern writer of very different style and interests and how Hemingway’s influence spread.

Trends come from deeper sources than what is written on the surface of literature, and the average domestic adjustments of 1980 or 2030 will not depend on the question of whether Ernest Hemingway is suppressed or encouraged in 1930.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Maurice W. Moe, June 1930?, LMM 267

The date on this letter is approximate, but the reference appears to be to the ban of the June 1929 issue of Scribner’s Magazine in Boston, which contained the second installment of Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms. Lovecraft did not normally read Scribner’s, but his aunt did (ES1.141), and he sometimes read it at the library (ES2.670). This was likely where Lovecraft first encountered Hemingway’s prose. Hemingway came up again in Lovecraft’s ongoing correspondence with Moe circa 1931:

It does not take a microscope to perceive that Ernest Hemingway and John V. A. Weaver have a much greater intellectual command of their material than would the kind of people they depict! But they are right in stripping down to vulgate essentials when they wish to say what they have to say. Life could not possibly be interpreted without this intelligent adaptation of medium to subject matter ….. Indeed, the blank record of the nineteenth century in saying anything of real significance or reality is sufficient proof of the validity of the assumption. […] To suppose a man with the aesthetick and philosophic vision of Hemingway could say anything in the French pastry jargon of Thornton Wilder, or that a sensitive perceiver like Marcel Proust (the one real novelist of the last decade or two) could get anything at all over in the stereotyped phrases and attitudes of the “great tradition”, is to miss the whole point of the purpose and mode of functioning of language. What any guy has to say, is what’s in him–and every fresh combination of a guy and wot he’s got on his chest calls for a distinctly individual use of language. […] Honest depiction of life must be based on realism, no matter how much that realism may be suffused with imaginative overtones derived from subjective attitudes toward reality and dream.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Maurice W. Moe, March 1931?, LMM 285-286

John Van Alstyne Weaver, like Hemingway, worked with American vernacular English; Thornton Wilder was the author of the acclaimed novel The Bridge of San Luis Rey (1927), which is set in the 18th century and whose language is full of decorative frills—very different from Hemingway’s usual laconic approach. Hemingway himself would call the book “a well hung together collection of short stories” (LEH 4.152) and elsewhere wrote:

Writing whether you want it or not is competitive—Most of the time you compete against time and dead men—sometimes you get something from a living (contemporary competitor) that is so good it jars you—as the story of Esteban in Thornton’s last book. But as you read them dead or living you unconsciously compete—I would give 6 mos. of life to have written it.
—Ernest Hemingway to Maxwell Perkins, Sep 1928, LEH 3.434

Was Lovecraft in unconscious competition with Hemingway? If so, it never showed in his work. Yet Hemingway was not wrong. Both writers focused on realism as a key aspect of their writing. Hemingway wanted to write about real things; Lovecraft used realism as the basis for his weird tales, and wrote about one of his dead competitors:

Poe’s spectres thus acquired a convincing malignity possessed by none of their predecessors, and established a new standard of realism in the annals of literary horror. The impersonal and artistic intent, moreover, was aided by a scientific attitude not often found before; whereby Poe studied the human mind rather than the usages of Gothic fiction, and worked with an analytical knowledge of terror’s true sources which doubled the force of his narratives and emancipated him from all the absurdities inherent in merely conventional shudder-coining. This example having been set, later authors were naturally forced to conform to it in order to compete at all; so that in this way a definite change began to affect the main stream of macabre writing.
—H. P. Lovecraft, “Supernatural Horror in Literature”

A couple of months after his letter to Moe, Lovecraft would be unknowingly stepping onto Hemingway’s own turf—his southern travels in 1931 carrying him down to Florida, to Miami, and then by motor coach and ferry to Key West itself.

Ernest Hemingway and his second wife Pauline had first come to Key West in 1928. They left and returned again sporadically for the next few years, with an eye toward permanent settlement, and on 29 April 1931 they purchased (with the aid of Pauline’s uncle Augustus Pfeiffer) the large but dilapidated French Colonial-style house on 907 Whitehead Street. They did not, however, move in right away; by May the Hemingway family was on their way to Europe, so that when Lovecraft arrived in Key West on June 10th, the chance of even an accidental meeting was nonexistent. Lovecraft had hoped to make the crossing to Cuba, but he was traveling on a tight budget and could not afford it. What he could afford were expansive letters, describing Key West as he—and perhaps Hemingway—might have seen it:

As utterly isolated from the populous part of the world as Block Island or Nantucket, Key West has retained an unique provincial character differing vastly from that of any other place. It is simple & village-like, & extremely frugal & primitive in all things. Spanish influence is everywhere observable—Cubans being about as thick as French-Canadians in Fall River or Jews in New York. One of the two cinema theatres (both owned by a Spaniard) has its films in the Spanish language. There is, however, no Spanish newspaper. Vegetation is thick, splendid, & tropical—including great trees & surpassing that of any of the other keys. There is, however, no Spanish moss so far as I can see. Under cultivation, the greenery assumes an unbelievable luxuriance in gardens. Coconut palms are frequent.

Unlike Dunedin & Miami, this is an old town with a natural growth; & it is certainly refreshing to be back in such a place. The town was founded under the Spanish regime—though not, I think, till the early 1800’s. The original name is Caya Huesco, (Bone Key) which American usage soon corrupted into the present title of Key West. Early in the American regime it became an army post, & it has always since remained a military & naval station of importance; because of its strategic control of the entrance to the Gulf of Mexico. In the Civil War it pursued the anomalous course of supporting the Federal side despite the secession of Florida as a state. In the Spanish war it was a great naval base & hospital centre. The harbour is of exceptional depth & convenience, & many steamship lines—to Tampa, New Orleans, Havana, &c—converge here. The principal industry—employing most of the Spanish population—is the manufacture of cigars. Next come fishing, sponge-fishing, ship supplies, & fruit growing—the latter accomplished largely on the adjacent keys.

Houses are largely small wooden cottages set in fenced-in gardens, recalling the old America of the 1840’s. Tropic balconies are frequent on both residences & shops, & the latest buildings (though not many new ones are built) have them as well as the old ones. Some shops have folding doors of many sections, which can be so opened as to throw the entire front open to the street—forming a sort of open-air bazaar, as it were. This is especially true of drug stores & soda fountains. In the residences, most front doors have auxiliary doors with shutters like those of blinds—a fashion which also existed in New England during the late Georgian period, & which is well exemplified by fine hillside colonial house at the corner of Angell & Congdon. Some of the houses have window blinds hinged at the top, which open outward like awnings & are propped with sticks. A distinct Latin touch pervades everything. Chimneys are very rare, & roofs tend to come to a central point or ridge like those of most far-southern towns. It is a relief to be in a really old & naturally developed town once again. Miami & all it represents seems in another world—for Key West is one with Charleston & Providence & Salem as a representation of pre-machine-age America. The city has a population (1930) of 12,613; being therefore about the size of Bristol, & somewhat larger than Athol or N. Attleboro. Its size is almost identical with that of my favourite village of Hempstead, Long Island. It is the seat of Monroe County, which includes all the keys. Up to 1911 or 1912 its isolation from the world was even more profound than at present; but at that time the Florida East Coast Railway completed its causeways & opened service from the mainland. Lack of highway access continued to keep it semi-isolated, but in 1928 the present motor route (interrupted by two 2-hour ferry trips) was opened. But for the business depression, these ferries would have been eliminated by this time—but lacking money, the state has not been able to construct the desired causeways. This delay is probably all that saves Key West from tourist invasion, standardisation, & self-conscious showmanship. As things are, the town is absolutely natural & unspoiled; a perfect bit of old-time simplicity which is truly quaint because it does not know that it is quaint. There is only one luxurious winter hotel, & one first-class city hostelry like our Biltmore. I am stopping at the latter—because the poor business season has caused them to quote fine single rooms with hot & cold water at only $1.50. It is the Key West Colonial—owned by the same chain which owns Charleston’s palatial Ft. Sumter Hotel on the Battery. There is a widely advertised roof garden with a magnificent view of the whole city & surrounding keys & ocean, which I intend to investigate tomorrow morning. But my own room has a fine enough view.

The coach drew into Key West at sunset, when the whole tropic scene bore an aspect of ineffable glamour. This approach was along a wide seaside boulevard; & betwixt the observer & the mystical westward gulf there rose a low, picturesque line of old-fashioned roofs & steeples which even the tall skeleton masts of the wireless station could not spoil. On the farther side one could note great ships tied up at the docks—messengers from Caribbean realms of still more enchanting glamour. In reaching the hotel—which is also the bus station—the coach passed through a large part of the town; so that I formed an excellent general impression at the very outset. With the coming of daylight, I shall do further exploration on foot—as well as consulting books in the local library. So far I have studied only the few Chamber of Commerce leaflets procurable at the hotel desk. The local Cubans are very picturesque—& not even nearly as squalid as our Federal Hill Italians. They are addicted to sporty clothes of a flamboyant striped pattern. Most of the younger ones, locally educated, speak fluent English.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Lillian D. Clark, 11-12 Jun 1931, LFF 2.909-910

The Key West Colonial was formerly La Concha; and the locals still called it that, as did Hemingway (LEH 3.510). Hemingway’s own description of the town in his letters was much more laconic; two examples highlight some of the differences between the two men:

Tonight is a big night (Saturday) although not so cheerful because another cigar factory has closed down. This is a splendid place. Population formerly 26,000—now around ten thousand[.] There was a pencilled ins[c]ription derogatory to our fair city in the toilet at the station and somebody had written under it—’if you don’t like this town get out and stay out.’ Somebody else had written under that ‘Everybody has.’
—Ernest Hemingway to Maxwell Perkins, 21 Apr 1928, LEH 3.382-383

That was was where I went best when I was writing it—Swim all winter—Everybody talks Spanish—The old Gulf stream just seven miles out and all the uninhabited keys to sail to. Good Spanish wine from Cuba on every boat—Whiskey $5.00 a quart—Bacardi 4.00—Fundador 4.50—We’ll get a house and two niggers—[…] The fishing is as exciting as war only you can go home nights. Grand people.
—Ernest Hemingway to Archibald MacLeish, c.9-13 Sep 1928, LEH 3.436-437

Lovecraft was a teetotal and not a sportsman; but both men found charm in the small town, though only one of them was destined to ever return and stay there. Some months after his return to Providence, Rhode Island, the subject of Hemingway came up again:

I like Cather and Hemingway . . . . Hemingway is the sort of guy I intensely admire without any great impulse to imitate him. His prosaic objectivity is a very high form of art—which I wish I could parallel—but I can’t get used to the rhythm of his short, harsh sentences.
—H. P. Lovecraft to J. Vernon Shea, 18 Sep 1931, LJS 56

Willa Cather won the Pulitzer Prize in 1923 for her novel One of Ours (1922); a thematic companion to Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms (1929), which still seems to have been the only prose of Hemingway’s that Lovecraft had read. Hemingway’s prose style would be marked by Lovecraft in further discussions:

Of course, one oughtn’t to strike a cloying sing-song like Thrift’s pale-Hubbardesque iambicks in the Lucky Dog, or like some of my own “and”-balanc’d periods of yesteryear; but just the same, there’s no excuse for barking out an Hemingway machine-gun fire when one could weave prose which can be read aloud without sore throat or hiccoughs. […] The best prose is vigorous, direct, unadorn’d, and closely related (as is the best verse) to the language of actual discourse; but it has its natural rhythms and smoothness just as good oral speech has.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Maurice W. Moe, 26 Mar 1932, LMM 322-323

Tim Thrift was an amateur journalist whose publication was The Lucky Dog; A Magazinelet of
Uniqueness
. The reference is likely to the sometimes long, terse dialogues in A Farewell to
Arms
, where an entire conversation could be had in a couple dozen words. Dialogue was not
Lovecraft’s forte, as he himself admitted. As for the content:

As for Mr. Hemingway—opinions may well differ on the exact amount of sanguinary virility best fitted for daily life, but these extremist dicta are well worth recording for correlation with the effeminate pacificism & supineness of other extreme schools of thought.
—H. P. Lovecraft to J. Vernon Shea, 12 Jan 1933, LJS 309

It’s worth pointing out that Lovecraft had been corresponding with Robert E. Howard for some years at this point, and would make a similar statement on the Texas pulpster who specialized in lusty and bloody adventure:

About the Conan tales—I don’t know that they contain any more sex than is necessary in a delineation of the life of a lusty bygone age. Good old Two-Gun didn’t seem to me to overstress eroticism nearly as much as other cash-seeking pulpists—even if he did now & then feel in duty bound to play up to a Brundage cover-design.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Willis Conover, 14 Aug 1936, LRBO 382-383

While they did not share the same experience of war—Lovecraft’s effort to enlist in the Great War came to naught, and he did not seek to drive an ambulance as Hemingway did—they were neither of them pacifists, and each had their own concerns about masculinity and masculine behavior.

Hemingway’s star was on the rise; A Farewell to Arms was adapted to film and released in 1932. Lovecraft saw it, though he wrote almost nothing about what he thought of it; “about as you say” (LJS 122) would be more helpful if we knew what Lovecraft’s correspondent had said about it. In 1933 Esquire began publishing a series of short essays from Hemingway. One of these, “Monologue to the Maestro” (Esquire Oct 1935), between Hemingway (Y.C.) and a young fan (Mice) appears to have been the subject of discussion:

Mice: Well what books are necessary?

Y.C.: He should have read WAR AND PEACE and ANNA KARENINA, by Tolstoi, MIDSHIPMAN EASY, FRANK MILDAMAY AND PETER SIMPLE by Captain Marryat, MADAME BOVARY and LʼEDUCATION SENTIMENTALE by Flaubert, BUDDENBROOKS by Thomas Mann, Joyceʼs DUBLINERS, PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST and ULYSSES, TOM JONES and JOSEPH ANDREWS by Fielding, LE ROUGE ET LE NOIR and LA CHARTREUSE DE PARME by Stendhal, THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV and any two other Dostoevskis, HUCKLEBERRY FINN by Mark Twain, THE OPEN BOAT and THE BLUE HOTEL by Stephen Crane, HAIL AND FAREWELL by George Moore, Yeats AUTOBIOGRAPHIES, all the good De Maupassant, all the good Kipling, all of Turgenev, FAR AWAY AND LONG AGO by W.H. Hudson, Henry Jamesʼ short stories, especially MADAME DE MAUVES and THE TURN OF THE SCREW, THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY, THE AMERICAN—

Mice: I canʼt write them down that fast. How many more are there?

Y.C.: Iʼll give you the rest another day. There are about three times that many.
—Ernest Hemingway, “Monologue to the Maestro”

Hemingway’s list of classics is a curious one—but perhaps typical of a disjointed transitional age.
—H. P. Lovecraft to J. Vernon Shea, 5 Dec 1935, LJS 275

As it happened, Lovecraft himself was creating a list of suggested books for readers as part of the revisions for a textbook titled Well-Bred Speech. They had several titles in common, including Madame Bovary, War and Peace, The Brothers Karamazov, Anna Karenina, and Joyce’s Ulysses. But Lovecraft felt it necessary to add: “Ernest Hemingway (A Farewell to Arms)” (CE 2.190).

While vastly different in style, that both men shared an appreciation for some of the same authors and works, or at least recognized their importance, should not be surprising. They were only nine years apart in age, both white men raised in America, voracious readers who loved literature. One notable fantasy writer that they both appreciated was Lord Dunsany, who was a major influence on Lovecraft:

Often a wonderful moon and the guy’s would have me read Lord Dunsany’s Wonder Tales out loud. He’s great.
—Ernest Hemingway to Grace Quinlan, 8 Aug 1920, LEH 1.237

Fantasy would be the subject of the final comment from Lovecraft on Hemingway, written only a month before HPL’s death:

I am, incidentally, amused by the definition of fantasy which you quote from Hemingway. The trouble with our literary toreador is, of course, that he tries to draw a parallel betwixt two utterly different and irreconcilable types of aesthetic emotion, each with an antipodal set of goals and origins. Fantaisistes and realists resemble each other only in the accidental circumstance that both usually employ paper and ink. Aside from that, they have no aims or wishes in common.
—H. P. Lovecraft to J. Vernon Shea, 5 Feb 1937, LJS 294

The phrase “literary toreador” shows that Lovecraft was at least aware of Death in the Afternoon (1932), Hemingway’s treatise on bull-fighting. It is not exactly clear which statement of Hemingway’s Lovecraft is discussing here, although there is another passage in “Monologue to the Maestro” which may fit:

Your correspondent: Good writing is true writing. If a man is making a story up it will be true in proportion to the amount of knowledge of life that he has and how conscientious he is; so that when he makes something up it is as it would truly be. If he doesnʼt know how many people work in their minds and actions his luck may save him for a while, or he may write fantasy. But if he continues to write about what he does not know about he will find himself faking. After he fakes a few times he cannot write honestly any more.

Mice: Then what about imagination?

Y.C.: Nobody knows a damned thing about it except that it is what we get for nothing. It may be a racial experience. I think that is quite possible. It is the one thing beside honesty that a good writer must have. The more he learns from experience the more truly he can imagine. If he gets so he can imagine truly enough people will think that the things he relates all really happened and that he is just reporting.
—Ernest Hemingway, “Monologue to the Maestro”

There is at once a convergence and divergence here between Hemingway and Lovecraft. Both emphasize the necessity of realism in writing; both differ as to the approach. Hemingway’s laconic “just reporting” works for his style of fiction, but as for Lovecraft:

One cannot, except in immature pulp charlatan-fiction, present an account of impossible, improbable, or inconceivable phenomena as a commonplace narrative of objective acts and conventional emotions. Inconceivable events and conditions have a special handicap to overcome, and this can be accomplished only through the maintenance of a careful realism in every phase of the story except that touching on the one given marvel. The marvel must be treated very impressively and deliberately—with a careful emotional “build-up”—else it will seem flat and unconvincing. Being the principal thing in the story, its mere existence should overshadow the characters and events. But the characters and events must be consistent and natural except where they touch the single marvel. In relation to the central wonder, the characters should shew the same overwhelming emotion which similar characters would shew toward such a wonder in real life. Never have a wonder taken for granted. Even when the characters are supposed to be accustomed to the wonder I try to weave an air of aw and impressiveness corresponding to what the reader should feel. A casual style ruins any serious fantasy.
—H. P. Lovecraft, “Notes on Writing Weird Fiction” (CE 2.177)

Hemingway and Lovecraft, though they never met in person or by letter, were both products of the same era, read some of the same books, wrestled with some of the same issues both in their life and their writing. Both might be seen as modernists; both at least acknowledged the necessity for realism in their fiction, though their approaches to achieving that differed markedly. Each had their harsh sentences in life, and served it ‘til the end.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

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Deeper Cut: The Dutch Mythos

I got hooked on Lovecraft when I was just starting to read English, which I taught myself so I could buy and read horror and SF, which was practically unavailable in my own language (Flemish, which is another version of Dutch typical for Belgium, at last for the Flemish-speaking part, since French is our national second language). […] During January-April 1963 I wrote a novelette, titled “De Poort in het duister” (A Way into Darkness”), which was “published” in 6 copies in a carbon-typed fanzine I was “publishing with a friend.” […] I mentioned “A Way into Darkness” several times to correspondents, and it was noted down in one of the Reader’s Guides to the Cthulhu Mythos.
—Eddy C. Bertin, “Darkness: Your Name Is A Story” 63

I was very ill at the start of 1963, and for three weeks I suffered from a high fever and horrible nightmares. I had just discovered the work of H. P. Lovecraft, and in those nightmares I was constantly involved in a very surrealistic battle between immense inhuman forces, who took the form of geometrical patterns, which were fighting a war in a world outside of our space and time. It was around this time that I wrote “De poort in het duister” aka “The Way into Darkness” […] (Boekestein 2014, 7)

It is difficult to say when Lovecraft first came to the Low Countries. Belgian writer Jean Ray appeared in Weird Tales in the 1930s, under the pseudonym John Flanders. Kalju Kirde talks about running across copies of Weird Tales in Estonia during the late 1930s or early 1940s, possibly copies of the British edition of Weird Tales which appeared in the 1940s (Kirde 121). It is not unfeasible that some American pulps or copies of the British Not at Night series containing Lovecraft’s stories appeared in Belgium or the Netherlands at this time. But for the most part Lovecraft appears to have been a stranger to the Dutch and Flemish readers, at least in their native language.

After the death of H. P. Lovecraft in 1937, Arkham House was founded to publish his work and oversee his literary legacy, and began publishing his work in hardcover editions in 1939. Arkham House exercised de facto control of the Lovecraft copyrights, including foreign translations and a proprietary interest in who published Cthulhu Mythos fiction in the United States. During World War II, translations of Lovecraft’s work to non-English markets were largely unfeasible, but after the war the small publisher began to find some success.

French translation collections of Lovecraft’s work began to appear in the 1950s, beginning with La Couleur tombée du ciel (1954, Editions Donoël), and German in the 1960s with 12 grusel Stories (1965, Wilhelm Heyne Verlag), but it would be years before a Lovecraft collection was translated for the Dutch language market. During the 1950s, science fiction and fantasy fandom in Belgium and the Netherlands was largely disorganized, but groups began to coalesce and fan-publications proliferated in the 1960s. (Boekestein 2000; Dautzenberg 174)

Enterprising fans like Eddy C. Bertin would learn English and import British and American editions, and his story “De Poort in het duister” (“The Gate into Darkness,” also published as “A Way into Darkness”) is the first known Cthulhu Mythos story in Dutch, published in the fanzine Nachtmerrie (vol. 4, no. 4, May 1963)…“published” in an edition of only six copies. As Bertin recalls:

I knew Lovecraft from two stories, “The Rats in the Walls” and “the Thing on the Doorstep” (published in two now very rare Dutch horror anthologies), neither of which I really liked. […] There were however very few books of horror available in Dutch, but the English and American paperbacks found in the supermarkets and bookshops contained a much larger variety of it. So I started teaching myself to read english, with a dictionary at hand. […] one of those books I tackled was Best Supernatural Stories of H. P. Lovecraft in a cheap hardcover from Tower Books. I found his language and style very hard reading (for a beginner) but his ideas and images hooked me for life. I started hunting for his other books, discovering the “collaborations” with August Derleth, Arkham House, and later the works of others who had expanded and changed his Mythos, such as J. Ramsey Campbell, Brian Lumley, and so on. (Bertin, “My European Mythos”3)

The first Dutch translation of Lovecraft I’ve found is “Het Ding op de Drempel” (“The Thing in the Doorstep”) in Voor en na Middernacht: Zijnde Vijfendertig Spook en Griezelverhalen Alsmede Andere Fantastische Vertellingen (1949, Elsevier, trans. A. Verhoef; a different edition was also released in 1954); “Ratten” (“The Rats in the Walls”) was published in Griezelverhalen (1959, Het Spectrum, trans. W. Wielek-Berg), and it may be other single stories were translated and published in anthologies or magazines from 1940 to the 1960s, when the first Dutch language collection of Lovecraft would appear.

Macabere Verhalen (1967, Uitgeverij Contact), translated by Jean A. Schalekamp, and began a small boom in Dutch translations of the American horrorist’s work. This was quickly followed by Het gefluister in de duisternis: Greizelverhalen (1968, A. W. Bruna & Zoon, trans. R. Germeraad), and Heksensabbat: Griezelverhalen (1969, A. W. Bruna, trans. C. A. G. van der Broek). The Dutch translation “Heksensabbat” (“The Dreams in the Witch House”) in the latter volume may have inspired Julien C. Raasveld to write “The House of Keziah Mason,” which first appeared (in English) in his ’zine Parallax #0 (March 1971), and was itself later translated as La Mansion de Keziah Mason (Las Mejoras Historias de Fantasmas, 1973); this is the second known Cthulhu Mythos work by a Flemish author.

The Bruna editions also contained the essay “De ‘verboden’ boeken van H. P. Lovecraft” by Aart C. Prins, one of the earliest Dutch critical works examining Lovecraft’s themes. Prins also edited Het Monster in de Lift an andere griezelverhalen (1967, Bruna) which contained the Hazel Heald/Lovecraft collaboration “The Horror in the Museum”, and De Bewoner van het Meer (1968, A. W. Bruna & Zoon), which contained translations of non-Lovecraft Mythos stories by Clark Ashton Smith, Ramsey Campbell, Robert E. Howard, August Derleth, and Robert Bloch. Also in 1968 was published Wie Kan-ik Zeggen Dat er is? (Bruna, trans. J. J. van Olffen), which included several of Derleth’s “posthumous collaborations” with H. P. Lovecraft.

The 1970s saw more of Lovecraft’s work published in Dutch. A. W. Bruna & Zoon began the Bruna Fantasy en Horror series with De droomwereld van Kadath (1972, trans. Pé Hawinkels), and further volumes included De bergen van de waanzin (1973, trans. Heleen ten Holt), and De zaak Charles Dexter Ward (1974, trans. J. F. Niessen-Hossele); their last Lovecraft volume was Het huis in de nevel (1976, trans. Pon Ruiter). The number of different translators who had worked on bringing Lovecraft into the Dutch language at this point likely added to an uneven quality to the fiction—yet it did capture the public imagination, and avid fans became a part of the worldwide network of Mythos fiction writers.

Miscellaneous Lovecraft stories were also translated in various anthologies. One editor used the pseudonym “E. L. de Marigny” (from a character in Lovecraft’s “Through the Gates of the Silver Key” and “Out of the Aeons”) in publishing Fata Morgana (Maulenhoff, 1980) and Griezel-omnibus: Het verschrikkelijke geheim (1982, Elsevier), both of which contained Lovecraft translations. Other anthologies featuring Lovecraft translations include: Vampier! (1972, De Arbeiderspers), 50 beroemde griezelverhalen (1974, Elsevier), Kleine Griezelomnibus 1 (1976, A. W. Bruna & Sons), Land van de Griezel (1976, D.A.P.Reinaert Uitgaven), Van Edgar Allan Poe tot Roald Dahl, De 50 Beste Griezelverhalen (1980, Borsbeek & Loeb), Van Jules Verne tot Isaac Asimov: De 50 Beste Science Fiction-Verhalen (1981, Publioboek/Bart), De Beste Griezelverhalen (1982, K-Tel), De Beste Science-Fiction Verhalen  (1982, K-Tel), Duistere Machent (1982, Loeb), and In de Geest van Tolkien (2003, Uitgeverij M). Some stories have been translated more than once, which combined with reprints has led to a little confusion at times.

The Dutch fantasy fan scene was also developing at this time; a notable publication was Drab, “eerste nederlandse tijdschrift voor Horror & Fantasy” (“first Dutch magazine for Horror & Fantasy”). Beginning in 1973 and running irregularly through 1980, it published sixteen issues in four volumes. Roeland de Vust provided three original translations for the magazine: the short story “Yule Ritus” (“The Festival”) Drab 1, No. 3 (1975), the R. H. Barlow collaboration “En de zee was niet meer” (“Till A’ the Seas”) Drab 3, No.2 (1976), and the poem “Waar eens Poe wandelde” (“In a Sequester’d Providence Churchyard Where Once Poe Walk’d”) Drab 4, No. 3 (1978); which issue also included Temme Tams’ translation “Van wat daarbuiten is” (“From Beyond”). In addition to this, de Vust provided a review of L. Sprague de Camp’s biography of Lovecraft in Drab 3, No. 2. Regarding the translations, Roeland de Vust wrote:

For me, translating was a challenge, trying to maintain in Dutch the “ancient” literary style of H.P.L.

A sentiment many of Lovecraft’s translators no doubt agree with.

Sometime in the ‘60s or ‘70s Eddy C. Bertin conceived a project for a booklet of five horror stories, to be published in Dutch, two of them involving the Mythos. One would have been “He Who Feeds on Thoughts,” which would be an adaptation of his science fiction story “De Gedachteneter” (“The Thought Eater,” published in De Achtjaarlijkse God, 1971, Bruna), and the second “The Sound of Silver Rain.” However, the project failed to attract subscribers and was scrapped (Bertin 2008a, 4).

Bertin and Julien C. Raasveld’s contributions to the Mythos were both duly recorded by Robert Weinberg and Edward P. Berglund in the Reader’s Guide to the Cthulhu Mythos (1973). It was through these fan-connections that the next phase of Dutch Mythos work was published—in English! With the death of August Derleth in 1971, the Cthulhu Mythos became free of his more restrictive attempts to control the publication of new Mythos material. Berglund noticed while compiling the Reader’s Guide that there were enough stories by professional authors for an anthology, and at Donald Wollheim’s suggestion solicited Bertin for stories with the idea of proposing the anthology to Arkham House. (Berglund x; Bertin 2008a, 4) Bertin sent him “Hingoo” (“All-Eye”) by Bob van Laerhoven “which I just changed slightly to fit better in the Mythos” Bertin 63) and Bertin’s rewrote “Darkness, My Name Is,” Arkham House turned the anthology down, but Berglund later published it as Disciples of Cthulhu (1976, DAW).

These early works of Dutch Mythos fiction were fairly typical of the time; Bertin’s “Darkness, My Name Is,” Raasveld’s “House of Keziah Mason,” and van Laerhoven’s “All-Eye” are pastiches of various degrees of creativity and skill, and went little beyond what Lovecraft and Derleth had written. “Darkness, My Name Is” however saw Bertin take a step beyond and begin to craft his own original Mythos, introducing his own tome (Von denen Verdammten by Edith Brendall—an occasional pseudonym for Bertin), his own Mythos entity Cyäegha, and an isolated geographic setting akin to Lovecraft’s Miskatonic Valley and Campbell’s Severn Valley. As Bertin put it:

It was never really my intention to develop a series of stories and novelettes dealing with Lovecraftian creatures, but set in Europe—it just happened along the way. Just as Lovecraft himself wrote his Mythos stories loosely, without really trying to put them into a rationalised fictional universe, then so did I. […] (Bertin 2008a, 3)

Bertin quoted from Von denen Verdammten as poems, in German, English, and Dutch. Some of these were published in collections of weird verse for younger readers: “De Weg in het Duister” (“The Way into Darkness”), “De Brandende Kat” (“The Burning Cat”), and “Dunwich Droomt, Dunwich Gilt” (“Dunwich Dreams, Dunwich Screams”) in Griezelverzen 1 (1998, Het Griezelgenootschap). Griezelverzen 2 (1999, Het Griezelgenootschap) included “De trap bij Maanlicht” (“The Stairway by Moonlight”) (Bertin 2008a, 5).

Disciples was successful enough to get French (Las adorateurs de Cthulhu, 1978) and German (Cthulhu’s Kinder, 1980) translations. Fandom was not exclusive by language, so in Belgium, for example, you had publications such as H. P. Lovecraft Inedit: Fantastique et Mythologies Modernes (1978) by Jacques van Herp, published in French, closely following the French translations of Lovecraft and his letters, but adds:

Quant à la quatrième génération elle s’annonce avec Brennan, Walter C. de Bill Jr, Bob Van Laerhoven, Eddy C. Bertin, et compte désormais des européens continentaux. […] On peut espérer plus de la voie ouverte par Eddy C. Bertin. Une nouvelle région maléfique apparait, un lieu maudit en Allemagne. Et l’on se dit que l’Europe offre un vaste champ d’implantation avec ses vieilles cités gothiques, et ces villes mortes. Bertin nous apprend que Ludvig Prinn vécut à Gand et à Bruges avant de monter sur le bûcher à Bruxelles. Il presente Liyuhh, une trduction allemande des Textes de Brendal, se nom Von denen Verdammten, eine Verhandlung über die unheimlichen Kulten des Alten. Et l’on retrouve le climat et la mesure de Lovecraft.As for the fourth generation, it is announced with Brennan, Walter C. de Bill Jr, Bob Van Laerhoven, Eddy C. Bertin, and now has continental Europeans. […] One can hope for more from the path opened up by Eddy C. Bertin. A new evil region appears, a cursed place in Germany. And we say that Europe offers a vast field of settlement with its old Gothic cities, and these dead cities. Bertin tells us that Ludvig Prinn lived in Ghent and Bruges before going to the stake in Brussels. He presents Liyuhh, a German translation of the Brendal Texts, called Von denen Verdammten, eine Verhandlung über dieunheimlichen Kulten des Alten. And we find the climate and the measure of Lovecraft.

Bertin then translated the English story into Dutch, where it was published by Robert Zielshot in the semi-prozine Essef No. 4 (Feb 1978); he later re-wrote the Dutch version into a two-part novel and sold it to the Belgian gentleman’s magazine Hoho where it appeared in issues 313 and 315 (Feb & Mar 1978) as “De Vallei der Nachtmerries” (“The Valley of Nightmares”) and “De Berg van de Demon” (“The Mountain of the Demon”), adding sex and gore, changing the setting the Mexico, and publishing it under the pseudonym Juan Fernandez Sonando. Bertin would end up re-writing the novel once again and titling it Cyäegha, My Name Is Darkness in 1983, but this longer version was apparently never published (Bertin 1985, 64; Bertin 2008, 5).

The continued publication of Lovecraft and other Mythos fiction (Robert E. Howard was also notable for having many stories translated into Dutch in the 1970s) was having an effect: other Dutch writers began to write their own stories, including Mark J. Ruyffelaert, who published “Het boek Tegrath” (2e Land van de Griezel, ed. Albert van Hageland, D.A.P. Reinaert, 1978) and “Il Vit!” (Tussen Tijd en Schaduw, ed. Danny De Laet, Walter Soethoudt, 1978), where they appeared alongside non-Mythos works by Bertin, Raasveld, and others. Ruyffelaert’s “boek Tegrath” (inspired probably by Jean Ray’s “Le Grande Nocturne” (1942)) and would become part of his own personal Mythos, reappearing in stories such as the “Brieven aan Randolph Carter” (“Letters to Randolph Carter”) series; Marcel Orie would use it as well.

While still writing Lovecraftian pastiche, Ruyffelaert’s fiction draws more influence from some of the later writers, notably by the development of Bubastis (a Dreamlands city, not the ghoulish goddess as conceived by Robert Bloch in “The Brood of Bubastis”) in a series of tales: “Nocturne” in Vierde Ragnarok (1998), “De Droomwereld van Mahal” (“The Dreamworld of Mahal,” 2005), “Paradise Regained” (2008), “Sedlec, Bubastis” (2009), “De beul van Molsheim” (“The Executioner of Molsheim,” 2010), “De ondergang van Bubastis” (“The Demise of Bubastis,” 2014), “Een feestmaal voor kraaien” (“A Feast for Crows,” 2016), and “De vierde ruiter – de Dood” (“The Fourth Horseman – Death,” 2018). Ruyffelaert describes his relation with Lovecraft:

Reading Lovecraft was for a long time a great spiritual comfort to me: my belief in reaching the true haven of inner peace I owe to him. As a 14 year “old” I was confronted with the horror behind the horror and it provided me with an additional career. Lovecraft understood how to make enjoyable art out of his own fears, and then opened up his dream-world to many talented visitors. […] My intention: a salute to that fantasy giant who taught me how to dream. (Ruyffelaert)

In the early 1980s, many of the previous translations and some new ones were collected into an omnibus edition and a new collection: Griezelverhalen (Loeb, 1982) and Het gefluister in de duisternis: Griezelverhalen (Loeb, 1984), the former included the essay “Het fenomeen Lovecraft” by editor Erik Lankester, and the latter a translation of Robert Bloch’s essay “Heritage of Horror”—unfortunately, most of Lovecraft’s letters and biographies and critical studies have yet to see translation into Dutch, leaving the audience with relatively less insight into the man and his work in that language, although Michel Houellebecq’s flawed but popular monograph on Lovecraft was included in De koude revolutie: confrontaties en bespiegelingen, translated by Martin de Haan and published by Uitgeverij De Arbeiderspers in 2012.

The 1980s saw a few more efforts from Dutch Mythos authors. First among these was Eddy C. Bertin, who produced two notable Lovecraftian publications. Eyurid: A Lovecraftian Portfolio with Tais Teng (pseudonym of Thijs van Ebbenhorst Tengbergen) was originally published in issues 21-25 of Bertin’s magazine SF-Gids (1976-1978), SF-Gids also published numerous book reviews of Lovecraft and related works published in English and in translation; issues 119 and 120 were devoted to various versions of the Necronomicon. Bertin, following in the footsteps of August Derleth, couldn’t help referencing his own additions to Mythos-lorekeeping in his story “The Piercing of Priscilla Petersen”:

Research in the archives and in Fandata by Jan Meeuwesen and Jos Lexmond, a bibliography of fantastic literature published in Dutch, showed that in the Netherlands alone at least fifteen short story collections by Lovecraft had been issued by various different publishers. Contact, Bruna, Loeb, Bakker, Meulenhoff. Not bad for a writer who’d never even had a single collection published under his name during his own lifetime. Further investigation yielded a rather sloppily produced fanzine, SF-Gods, which was published in Gentbrugge in 1989, nos. 199 and 120 when taken together formed a double issue on the famous Necronomicon. (Bertin 2013, 23)

Eyurid was later published as a standalone loose-leaf portfolio in 1980 by Dunwich House—Bertin’s own small press. (Bertin 2008c, 3) The other was Dunwich Dreams, which ran for eight issues from 1982 to 1984 in the Esoteric Order of Dagon amateur press association, and featured Lovecraftian illustrations by Bertin, editorials, the Mythos story “Concerto for a Satin Vampire” (vol. 1, no. 1), the essays “A Chronological Bibliography of the Fiction of H. P. Lovecraft Translated in Dutch Language, and Published in the Netherlands (Holland) and Belgium from 1949 up to March 1983” (vol. 1, no. 3) and “Addenda to HPL Bibliography in Dutch Language” (vol. 1, no. 4). Bertin also placed Mythos stories in the American ‘zine Crypt of Cthulhu, with “The Waiting Dark” in vol. 4, no. 4 (Candlemas 1984), and “The Gibbering Walls” in vol. 8, no. 6 (St. John’s Eve 1989), which were rewritten versions of stories originally written and published in Dutch in the 1970s (Bertin 2008a, 8-9).

This was a very typical practice of Bertin, who remarked:

I don’t translate into English, I just rewrite it and then compare it with the original to see if I missed anything. Most of the stories in Dutch are not Mythos, the Mythos ones are all the rewritten versions and thus are completely different from the originals. “Darkness, My Name Is”, and “Waiting in the Dark”, were rewritten in Dutch from the English originals, and so are the same. (Bertin 2008b, 18-19)

Bertin’s fiction during this period still tended toward pastiche, expanding on Lovecraft’s creations, but he was also expanding on his own corner of the Mythos—“The Gibbering Walls” tying into his previous stories “A Way into Darkness” and “Darkness, My Name Is,” while remaining a standalone tale. Many of the stories involve similar themes, dealing with internal struggles that become externalized in monstrous fashion. In an interview, Bertin wrote:

A recurring theme is the fact that monsters are not born but created by society, just as the monster of Frankenstein turns into a killer because society doesn’t accept him. […] transformation of man into something else is the main theme of all my shorter Mythos fiction. (Bertin 2008b, 18)

Bertin also dabbled in verse, including the poem “Meeting a strange guy, called Lovecraft, close to the cemetery of Providence” which was published in the Dutch magazine Rakis #1 (Oct 1989). Bertin was also an organizer of the “Dunwich Experience,” a multimedia installation that toured Flanders in the early 1980s (Van de Wiele).

A notable problem that Bertin had as a Belgian writer in getting published was dealing with issues of language and dialect:

Publishers and compilers of anthologies often complained about the many dialect words that Bertin used in his texts. Julien Raasveld once told me that the editors of De schaduw van de raaf [The Shadow of the Raven, Bertin’s 1983 collection] went through the text first and erroneously deleted all of the occurrences of the words ‘gans’ and ‘doorheen’ and only then did they actually begin reading it. Why this act of stubbornness? Because it wasn’t literary enough. Apparently the man who expressed himself at conventions in a broad Ghent accent was no different in this respect to the writer in the attic. (Moragie 4)

Many horror writers face discrimination for using colloquial language to better address their audience, so at least Bertin was in good company, but it is a particularly Dutch problem to deal with issues of linguistic determination because of small dialectal differences between the Netherlands and Belgium.

Another Dutch writer who began pursuing the same general path at this point was Jan Bee Landman, who published “The Flood” in Alpha Adventures (Jan 1985) and “The Canals of Delft” in Etchings & Odysseys #7 (1985). The latter story is one of the first by a Dutch writer to use a Dutch setting (Raasveld’s “The House of Keziah Mason” was set in Antwerp), and the description of that old city is as loving as any that Lovecraft bestowed on New England:

By the close of the 20th century it still retained much of its old glory, despite the sacrilegious presence of motorcars, electric lights and parking meters. To the casual tourist it was just another attractive landmark, but to a more sensitive soul it breathed a different atmosphere. In the dark water of the canals, that lay as still and inscrutable as it had in remote ages, he could still see the cruel grave of 16th century heretics and the home of the great little sailing ships that roamed the oceans pugnaciously ins search of exotic goods and slaves. A small light behind some attic window in the depth of night would recall the times when Dutch alchemists worked their silent evils in secret. No number of swarming cars on the market square, between the dizzying tower of the big church and the stolid medieval town hall, could silence the echoes of howling witches that had once smouldered there at the stake. (Landman 71)

Jan J. B. Kuipers also wrote around this time, their story “Het teken van de Geit” (“The Sign of the Goat”) appeared in Brieven aan Satan: de beste griezelverhalen (1990, Meisner, Stichting Fantastische Vertellingen). Kuipers did not write extensively in the Mythos, though some of his stories take influence from or refer to Lovecraft or the King in Yellow, including “Rondom Hygelac” (“About Hygelac,” 2014), “Offa’s bruid” (“Offa’s Bride,” 2016), “Een man van zijn woord” (“A Man of his Word,” 2018), and “De Jutterstoren” (“The Beachcomber’s Tower,” 2019). Much of Kuiper’s Mythos fiction focuses on historical settings; one recurring aspect is Saint Muirgen, a mermaid (descended from Father Dagon and Mother Hydra) which the early church adopted as a saint.

One of the major hindrances for prospective Dutch Mythos writers appears to have been the lack of a Dutch-language market for new Mythos fiction—as opposed to Mythos fiction in translation, which continued sporadically in anthologies. Peripheral works were also translated into Dutch and filtered slowly into the pop culture of Belgium and the Netherlands. For example, the popular Flemish graphic novel series De Rode Ridder, published book 124 Necronomicon in 1987. The book and amulet in that comic derive from the Simon Necronomicon (first published in English in 1977 by Schlangekraft), although it is otherwise a sword & sorcery tale. Roleplaying games also provided an introduction to the Mythos for many, with the Call of Cthulhu Roleplaying Game from Chaosium being a gateway to Lovecraft’s fiction:

My love for H. P. Lovecraft started with a board game. For evenings on end, my friends and I attempted to save the world from slumbering Evil, while trying to maintain our sanity. Nine times out of ten, we succeeded, by clever planning and by careful division of our resources. This was all well and good, until I actually started reading the stories and I realised that ‘winning’ was in fact the exception. (den Heijer 41)

The influence of roleplaying games can be seen in stories like Johan Klein Haneveld’s “Spelavond” (“Game Night”) in Lovecraft in de polder, which explicitly references Call of Cthulhu.

In 1988, Dagon Press published Het Onnoembare: Fantastische Griezelliteratuur In De Traditie Van Weird Tales, Arkham House En De Cthulhu Mythologie: Inleiding, Catalogus En Bibliografie by Dennis Schouten, a comprehensive overview of the Mythos, Arkham House, and Weird Tales for a Dutch audience.

By the 1980s, individual collections by Dutch and Belgian authors were being published that contained their original Mythos fiction. Notably, Eddy C. Bertin’s collections De Griezeligste Verhalen van Eddy Bertin (1984, Loeb) and Krijsende Muren (1998, Babel), and Mark J. Ruyffelaert’s Nocturne (2007, Verschijinsel) collected some of their Mythos works for the first time and made them available to a wider audience. However, there is a discontinuity in the late 1980s: as Bertin put it “the bottom fell out of the market,” and there was very little Dutch science fiction, fantasy, or horror fiction being published (Boekestein 2014, 4).

Because of this, Bertin transitioned to writing and selling horror fiction for a younger audience in the 1990s, focusing on the horror-obssessed Anton and the teenage witch Valentina. Both series began to incorporate elements of his Mythos fiction. The Von denen Verdammten appears in Overal Vuur (1996, Elzenga), Dorstige Schaduwen (1997, Elzenga), Duivelse Dromen (1999, Elzenga), Kille Dromen (2001, Elzenga), and Valentina’s Schaduwboek (2004, Leopold). The Valentina books were translated and published in both German and Swedish (Bertin 2008a, 6-8).

The Dutch magazine/anthology Waen Sinne premiered in 2002, with stories by Martijn Adelmund (as by Maarten Krohn), Jaap Boekestein, Dirk Bontes, Eddy C. Bertin, and Remco van Straten. Jaap Boekestein was also one of the editors, and his story was “Connectie Den Haag” (“The Hague Connection”), which makes reference to the Necronomicon and Von Denen Verdammten and adds Boekestein’s own contributions: the Liber Buccesteynus and Die Unaussprechliche Kosmologieën, which would be used by later authors. About the story, Boekestein later confessed:

At the time that we decided to do a Mythos Waen Sinne, I’d never actually written a Mythos story. I wasn’t even that well versed on the Mythos itself. […] All I basically knew was that Cthulhu was still sleeping, and that every self respecting Mythos author who’d ever lived had, at one time or another, had a go at inventing his own forbidden book or Mythos entity. I didn’t really feel comfortable about trying to invent a new Old One, but creating some evil tome was definitely doable. (Boekestein 2013b, 18)

Waen Sinne lasted two more issues; the second was devoted to Sword & Sorcery, and included Jan Mara’s “Verzengende Angst” (“Flaming Terror”), which references the Mythos. The third was devoted to classical monsters and contained no Mythos content.

Jaap Boekestein’s next two Mythos stories appeared under the pseudonym Claudia van Arkel, “Schepper van dood en leven” (“Creator of Death and Life”) in Pure Fantasy 8 (June 2007), and quickly followed that up with “Drie laatste nachten” (“Three Last Nights,” published in English as “The Devil-God of Captain Underwood”) in Zwarte zielen 2 (Verschijnsel, October 2007). His next story was under his own name, and in another of his zines, Wonderwaan: “Shhh shhh Cth… Shhh shhh Cth…” (Wonderwaan 6, June 2008). “Warme Rode Zee” (“Warm Red Sea”),  Wonderwaan 23 (September 2012) and an English story, “Under the Keeper of the Key” which appeared in the erotic anthology Lovecraft After Dark (James Ward Kirk Publishing, 2015), both deal with a combination of the Mythos and BDSM. This reflects his approach to the material:

What kind of people, I wondered, wouldn’t have much of a problem with the Mythos Universe? People who were different from the norm, was my conclusion. People who perceived reality differently. “Transformation is the key. Transformation of both the body and the mind.” If you live in a non-mundane world, you don’t feel mundane fears. The monsters might even welcome you in as one of their own. (Boekestein 2013a, 47)

Boekestein collaborated with Tais Teng on the English-language “Dancing for Azathoth” in The Worlds of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Vol. 2, (CreateSpace 2017), then back to Dutch for “Het dorp der Engelen” (“The Village of Angels”) in Wonderwaan 41 (Spring 2017). His Mythos story, “Van de Ouden” (“From the Ancients”) appeared in Lovecraft in de polder (2018); it was translated into English and published as “The Allure of the Old Ones” in Cyäegha 21 (Winter 2019). Hallmarks of Boekestein’s Mythos fiction are the use of the Netherlands and especially the Hague as a setting.

Computercode Cthulhu (2005, ebook 2018) by Paul Harland is an original Dutch-language Mythos novel with illustrations by Tais Teng. “Stoor niet Cthulhu’s slaap!” (“Do not disturb Cthulhu’s sleep!”) became an appropriate tagline for Harland’s novel, as the 2000s inaugurated the most active period of Dutch-language original Mythos fiction—likely buoyed in part by the greater ease and lower cost of desktop publishing and print-on-demand works, but also a reflection of a burgeoning market for weird fiction and Dutch and Flemish writers eager to write and publish their own Mythos fiction.

Frank Roger’s Mythos story “Duisternis, duisternis, verzwelg mij” (“Darkness, Darkness, devour me”) appeared in his collection De Trein naar Nergens en Andere Verhalen (2005, Free Musketeers). This is a story of a writer’s search for isolation, sudden inspiration and slow degradation, calling back to Lovecraft’s Gothic roots. 

Later that year, Eddy C. Bertin’s “Dunwich Dreams, Dunwich Screams” appeared in Tales Out of Dunwich (Hippocampus Press), a successor volume to editor Robert M. Price’s anthology The Dunwich Cycle (1995, Chaosium), and concerns his latest addition to the Mythos library: Von denen Verdammten, a relatively recent (1907) German text which deals with unspeakable cults—a counterpart to such tomes as Ludwig Prinn’s Vermis Mysteriis or von Junzt’s Unausprechlichen Kulten (created by Robert Bloch and Robert E. Howard, respectively). The story would bring Dagon and the Deep Ones to Dunwich, England, which was the probable inspiration for Lovecraft’s Dunwich, Massachusetts. Bertin would write of the story:

This story is based on my own visit to Dunwich, and my research there. It continues my “European” cycle of Mythos stories, began with “Darkness, My Name Is” and others. I always wanted to write a story about the real dunwich, England, incorporating its weird history into the Mythos. […] Well, I did it now, as my tribute to HPL. (Price 302; cf. Bertin 2008a, 10)

Bertin’s next contribution was “De piercing van Priscilla Petersen” in Horrorarium (2006, Suspense Publishing). As with many Bertin stories, this was not originally a Mythos tale, but became so during its many rewrites. While not strictly a Mythos tale, Bertin also considers “Rose Nere” (“Black Roses”) in Phantoms of Venice (2001, Shadow Publishing) to belong to his conception of the Mythos (Bertin 2008a, 10-11).

The Dutch fantasy magazine Wonderwaan premiered in 2007, the publication of the NCSF (Nederlands Contactcentrum voor Science Fiction/Dutch Science Fiction Society). As the editors Jaap Boekestein and Marcel Orie put it:

We both grew up reading about the Lovecraft Circle and “pulps” like Weird Tales and Wonder Stories, always wishing that there were still magazines like these out there, to which we could pitch our own attempts at writing weird fiction. In a way Wonderwaan is a homage to these pulps. Wonderwaan (an invented word which combines the Dutch words for “wonder” and “delusion” aims to collect the best fantastic stories from Holland and Belgium. We select well-known themes and clichés from the pulp era, and challenge our authors to put new and strange spins on them. (Boekestein & Orie 3)

 Since then, a number of issues of Wonderwaan have been dedicated to Mythos fiction, including issues 6 (June 2008, “Cthulhu Fhtagn!”), 8 (December 2008, “Iä Yog-Sothoth!”), 23 (September 2012, “Iä Shub-Niggurath!), 24 (December 2012, “Azathoth!”), 36 (December 2015, dedicated to Ruyffelaert’s Brievan aan Randolph Carter series), and 41 (Spring 2017, “Dromen vanuit R’lyeh”). In addition, individual stories are scattered among regular issues. The contributors included a number of familiar names such as Eddy C. Bertin, Mark J. Ruyffelaert, Jaap Boekestein, Jan J. B. Kuipers, Tais Teng (“Lovecraft, My Love”), and Mike Jansen, one of the editors of Lovecraft in de polder, who contributed to Wonderwaan with “Opdracht in Amlwch” (“Assigned to Amlwch”).

The magazine also introduced several new writers to the Dutch Mythos, most notably Marcel Orie with “Ansichtkaarten uit Carcosa” (“Postcards from Carcosa”) in Wonderwaan 6 (June 2008), followed by “Een handleiding voor later, voor na de apocalypse” (“A Manual for Later, for After the Apocalypse”) in Wonderwaan 24 (December 2012), “Keizer der waanzin” (“The Emperor of Madness”) in Wonderwaan 33 (March 2015), “Dode mannen dromen niet” (“Dead Men Don’t Dream”) in Wonderwaan 37 (Spring 2016), and “Het feestmaal onder de catacomben” (“The Feast Under the Catacombs”) in Wonderwaan 48 (Winter 2018). Marcel Orie’s “De poppen van dr. Edelweiss” (“The Dolls of Dr. Edelweiss”) also appeared in 2015 in both Ganymedes 15 and Cyäegha 14. Orie’s work is characterized by a conscious effort to expand the Mythos, tying into the work of Lovecraft, Ruyffelaert, Thomas Ligotti, and others. Their major invention was the Wurmwater, a kind of limbo or hell populated by the ghosts of pirates and criminals—including the Marshes of Innsmouth.

Other writers whose Mythos and Lovecraftian fiction appeared in Wonderwaan include Cornelis Alderlieste with “Fantoompijn” (“Phantom Pain”), Frank Daman with “Trô d’diâle” (a nonsense title, possibly means “The Devil’s Pit”), Auke Pols with “De ademer van de wateren” (“The Breather of Waters”) and “Overleef jij het maan-beest?” (“Can You Survive the Moon-beast?”), Jos Lexmond with “Weg…wachter” (“Gone…watchman,” translated as “The Watcher of the Way,” reprinted from Spaciale Aanbieding‘s 153-157, June 2009-April 2010), Nieske den Heijer with “Het doek” (“The Canvas”), Chantal Noordeloos with “De hongerende diepten” (“The Starving Depths”), Martijn Adelmund with “Schipperskind” (“Skipper’s Child”), Richard Meijer with “Vakantie Bali” (“Bali Holiday”), Jack Schlimazlnik with “Van oude goden, de dingen die niet voorbij gaan” (“Of Old Gods, The Things That Don’t Pass Away,” a play on the Dutch classic “Van oude menschen, de dingen die voorbijgaan” by Louis Couperus (1906)), and Tom Thys with “De Lijkenkrabber” (“The Corpse Scraper”).

The importance of Wonderwaan in the development of Dutch Mythos fiction has been to both recognize the fanbase for Mythos fiction among readers and to provide a market for new writers. Much as Weird Tales provided a receptive forum for writers and fans of weird fiction, Wonderwaan has served as a locus for the development of the Dutch Mythos, the special issues helping to emphasize the different voices and takes on the Mythos setting.

Outside of Wonderwaan, a few other stories found a home too. Tais Teng’s “De Tempel van Cthulhu” appeared in the ebook Met Gebroken Oog en Botte Klauw (2011, Verschijnsel), and the humorous short-short “Growing up in the Cthulhu Home for Deserving Orphans” was posted to DeviantArt in 2019. Eddy C. Bertin’s “My Fingers are Eating Me” appeared in The Whispering Horror (2013, Shadow Publishing). The latter story has a typically Bertinian convoluted history of rewriting and publishing (Bertin 2008a, 9-10).

Another important ‘zine has been Graeme Phillips’ Cyäegha. From the very first issue in 2008, which includes an Eddy C. Bertin interview and article “My European Mythos,” the zine has worked to bring the Dutch-language Mythos to a wider English-speaking audience, often featuring the first English translations of Dutch Mythos fiction and insights and commentary from the most prolific and important Dutch and Flemish authors of Mythos fiction. This is especially the case in the nine “Dutch/Flemish Special Issues,” which have brought the majority of Dutch Mythos work into English translation. In 2015, Phillips also began publishing the ‘zine Forbidden Knowledge, which includes translations of the introduction to Wonderwaan’s Mythos special issues.

Lovecraft in de Polder (2018, EdgeZero), edited by Laura Scheepers & Mike Jansen, is the first book-anthology of Dutch-language Mythos fiction. The list of authors includes both newcomers and old familiar names: Boukje Balder, Jaap Boekestein, Anaïd Haen, Johan Klein Haneveld, Abram Hertroys, Mike Jansen, Peter Kaptein, Jan J.B. Kuipers, Roderick Leeuwenhart, Django Mathijsen, Mark J. Ruyffelaert, Jack Schlimazlnik, Tais Teng, Dack van de Bij, and Adriaan van Garde. In discussing the impetus for the anthology, editor Mike Jansen noted of Dutch Mythos fiction:

My own experience, from compiling four Ragnarok anthologies for Babel Publications, judging four years of the Millennium Prize and three years of the EdgeZero competition, is that perhaps one story in fifty submitted falls within this category. So from almost 4000 stories (King Kong Award, Millennium Prize, Paul harland Prize, Harland Awards, Fantastels and Trek Sagae) written by nearly 1500 Dutch and Belgian writers, since the King Kong Award first began in 1977, we are talking about maybe eight stories Compared to the English-language production this is a mere drop in the ocean.

However, in general, the production of genre stories has dramatically increased over the past two decades, and a quick count of all of the stories submitted to these competitions shows that more than half of them were written in the last ten years. This means that there have been so many new Lovecraftian stories added in such a relatively short period of time that an anthology of these stories written by the top Dutch writers has become an increasingly enticing prospect. (Jansen 2)

Reception was mixed, however; Tom Thys in reviewing the book noted the speed in which the anthology was assembled:

Unfortunately, this has resulted in a somewhat lopsided collection as some of the stories fail to rise above mere pale imitations of the various rituals and creatures of the Lovecraftian pantheon. I really have to be strict here: the authors should have been given more time and the editors should have taken more time to select and streamline this collection. (Thys 4)

Also in 2018, Eddy C. Bertin died. The Dutch science fiction and horror community mourned the loss of one of their earliest and most prominent voices. Yet he left behind a legacy that continues to grow, as more writers use Cyäegha and Von Denen Verdammten. As he put it:

From the very beginning I’ve always tried to create my own version of the mythos, and in my own modest way, I think I’ve succeeded. (Boekestein 2014, 7)

Those who recall that South Africa featured as the setting of “Winged Death,” ghostwritten by H. P. Lovecraft for Hazel Heald and published in Weird Tales (March 1934) may wonder if any Lovecraftian fiction has been published in Afrikaans. As in the Netherlands, South Africa has a rather small market for science fiction, which was dominated by English-language imports from the United States and the United Kingdom (Byrne 522). Letters from South Africa were published in Weird Tales in the 1930s and 40s, and addresses published in WT show members of the Weird Tales Club in South Africa during Dorothy McIlwraith’s editorship. Unfortunately, I have been unable to verify any information on an Afrikaans translation of Lovecraft, or any Mythos works published in Afrikaans.

Works Cited

Berglund, Edward P., ed. (1996). The Disciples of Cthulhu Second Revised Edition. Oakland, CA: Chaosium.

Bertin, Eddy C. (1985). “Darkness: Your Name Is A Story: On The Writing Of ‘Darkness, My Name Is’” in Etchings & Odysseys #6, 63-64. Madison, WI: The Strange Company.

__________ (2008a). “My European Mythos” in Cyäegha #1 (Spring 2008). UK: Graeme Phillips.

__________ (2008b). “Interview: A Conversation with Eddy C. Bertin” (trans. Graeme Phillips) in Cyäegha #1 (Spring 2008). UK: Graeme Phillips.

__________ (2008c). “The Creation of ‘Eyurid’” in Cyäegha #2 (Winter 2008). UK: Graeme Phillips.

__________ (2013). “The Piercing of Priscilla Petersen” in Cyäegha #8 (Spring 2013). UK: Graeme Phillips.

Boekestein, Japp (2000). “Dutch and Flemish fandom, fifties and sixties”

__________ (2013a). “Afterword” (trans. Graeme Phillips) in Cyäegha #8 (Spring 2013). UK: Graeme Phillips.

__________ (2013b). “Afterword” (trans. Graeme Phillips) in Cyäegha #10 (Winter 2013). UK: Graeme Phillips.

__________ (2014). “Dissecting Eddy C. Bertin in Nine Questions” in Ghosts of a Different Dream. UK: Graeme Phillips.

Boekestein, Japp and Marcel Orie (2012). “Weird Dreams from Wonderwaan” in Cyäegha #6 (Spring 2012). UK: Graeme Phillips.

Byrne, Deirdre C. (2004). “Science Fiction in South Africa” in PMLA, Vol. 119, No. 3, Special Topic: Science Fiction and Literary Studies: The Next Millennium (May, 2004).

Dautzenberg, J. A. (1981). “A Survey of Dutch and Flemish Science Fiction (Panorama des SF néerlandaises)” in Science Fiction Studies, Vol. 8, No. 2 (Jul., 1981).

den Heijer, Nieske (2013). “Afterword” (trans. Graeme Phillips) in Cyäegha #9 (Summer 2013). UK: Graeme Phillips.

Jansen, Mike (2018). “Introduction: Foreward to Lovecraft in de Polder” (trans. Graeme Phillips) in Cyäegha #21 (Summer 2019). UK: Graeme Phillips.

Kirde, Kalju (1989). “Recognition of Lovecraft in Germany” in Books at Brown XXXVIII-XXXIX. Providence, RI: The Friends of the Library of Brown University.

Landman, Jan Bee (1985). “The Canals of Delft” in Etchings & Oddyseys #7, 71-81. Madison, WI: The Strange Company.

Moragie, Max (2019). “The Ghent Night-Writer: ECB” (trans. Graeme Phillips) in Cyäegha #22 (Autumn 2019). UK: Graeme Phillips.

Price, Robert M. (ed.) (2005). Tales Out of Dunwich. New York: Hippocampus Press.

Ruyffelaert, Mark (2013). “Afterword” (trans. Graeme Phillips) in Cyäegha #8 (Spring 2013). UK: Graeme Phillips.

Thys, Tom (2019). “Lovecraft in de polder” in Cyäegha #21 (Summer 2019). UK: Graeme Phillips. First published at hebban.nl

Van de Wiele, Patrick (2018). “Vaarwel Eddy, Mijn Vriend”.

van Herp, Jacques (1978). H. P. Lovecraft Inedit: Fantastique et Mythologies Modernes. Special edition of “Ides… et autres.” Belgium.

Note: With thanks and appreciation for the help of Roel Konijnendijk, Roeland de Vust, Graeme Phillips, and Ben Joosten. Any mistakes in the above are my fault, not theirs.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

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Deeper Cut: C. L. Moore Before The Pulps

Well. . . when I was in my early adolescence, I had a series of fairly serious illnesses and I had to be taken out of school. I spent a great deal o f time in bed, entertaining myself by reading everything 1 could get my hands on. It’s strange, but I don’t know how I ever got my hands on Weird Tales because it was strictly frowned on in my family—it was trash! But somehow, I did and I was thoroughly delighted with them. They were a brand new marvelous world. I’m sure I must have been thinking about those things for some years after I recovered. . . after I had finally gone through school and college. I had to stop college after three semesters and was very fortunate in finding a job. Still, I hadn’t done a lot of writing in this field, although I had written a bit for my own amusement at various times-melodramatic stuff, very adolescent and fun to do.
—C. L. Moore, “Interview: C. L. Moore Talks To Chacal” in Chacal #1 (26)

Catherine Lucille Moore’s first professional publication in pulp magazines was “Shambleau” (1933), in the pages of Weird Tales. The immense acclaim of her initial spate of stories from 1933-1940, when she married Henry Kuttner, has become part of the legendry of pulp fiction. Yet while C. L. Moore seems to have emerged full-grown like Aphrodite upon the waves, what this really means is that a great deal of what she wrote before she began her professional pulp career has sadly been lost—either never published, or published and largely forgotten.

The earliest such work is technically juvenilia, though it extended into adulthood:

Ever since we were about nine a friend and I have been evolving a romantic island kingdom and populating it with a race which, inevitably, is a remnant of Atlanteans. We’ve a very detailed theology and mythology, maps all water-colored and scroll-bordered and everything, a ruling house whose geneology and family tree and so forth has been worked out in tbales and charts from the year minus—oh, just about everything that two imaginative girls could think of over the space of fifteen years. (Heavens, has it been that long?) We have songs and long sagas of heroes, and a literature full of tradition and legends, and we even made and colored a series of paper dolls to illustrate the different types and their costumes, and then there were wars and plans of battle, and we have the maps of all our favorite cities, and we’ve written a good deal of history. And that history is what I take seriously.

We centered on a favorite period, around 1200-1250, and the history gradually became the biography of the outstanding man of that generation, and for the past ten years at least I have been writing, off and on, about this rather picaresque hero and his adventures. If I think of it I’ll send you a sample or two. It mostly comes in short snatches, just as the mood seized me. And of course a lot of it is romantically school-girlish, and a lot full of undergraduate tragics, because it’s grown up with me and has a long way to grow yet.

Odear, now you have me started—I hadn’t thought of this for nearly a year, since my friend moved out of town and I took up the fantasy writing. Gee, it was fun. The hero’s name was Dalmar j’Penyra, and he had red hair and black eyes and was a priate and a duke and a mighty lover and quite invincible in anything he chose to undertake. How we used to thrill over his escapades. He died in 1256, at the age of 35 (that seemed to use the absolute ultimate at which a man might remain even remotely interesting) and we almost wept whenever we thought of it. Bless him, he does seem awfully real. We used to make sad little songs about it—The girls who died for Dalmar, tonight they sleep a chill—the honey lips are dust now, the throbbing throats are still, and peace is on the high hearts that beat for him so warm, and peace is on the black heads that lay on Dalmar’s arm. Their hearts have ceased from sorrowing, their tears no longer fall—the narrow bed, the cold bed, the grave enfolds them all. Oh, girls who died for Dalmar, and lie tonight so low—
—C. L. Moore to R. H. Barlow, 10 Sep 1934, MSS. Brown Digital Repository

In a later interview, Moore specified this friend was her cousin:

What happened was that I had a cousin with whom I was very close, and we used to make up romantic tales of mythical kingdoms. We would take, long, long walks in the neighborhood under the trees—it was a lovely time in the world to be alive—and we each worked out or own fantasy kingdom with dashing young heroes and lots of swashbuckling adventure. Then we began separately to write it out. It was not anything that either of us considered offering for publication; it never occurred to us. I found some of it not too long ago, some writing from back in my early teens. The writing style has not changed very much except for one thing: I never said anything once when I could say it five times. It was intolerably dull to read. The writing is all right, but the repetition is hideous!

[…]

I think my cousin with whom I developed the mythical kingdom and I would have gone on in that Vein if she hadn’t had to move away and if I hadn’t had the job. But it was there, and it would have to have come out one way or another.
—”CA Interview,” Contemporary Authors vol. 104 (1982), 326-327

Bits and pieces of these poems about Dalmar j’Penyra are included in some of Moore’s letters to R. H. Barlow and H. P. Lovecraft in the period, and those fragments to Lovecraft in Letters to C. L. Moore and Others are the only ones published. Moore did not publish much poetry during her pulp career, but like many other Weird Talers she had a knack for it. One poem believed to have come from Moore’s typewriter made it into newsprint:

The Spirit of St. Louis with pilot Charles Lindbergh had completed the first nonstop transatlantic flight in 1927; pilots could be heroes in the 1920s, and there is more than a hint of fantasy in this verse.

At age 18, C. L. Moore enrolled at the local Indiana University and took classes for three semesters (Fall 1929, Spring 1930, and Fall 1930). However, Black Tuesday struck in October 1929, signalling the beginning of the Great Depression, and her family’s finances required her to leave school and gain employment, which she did. While associated with the university, however, Moore contributed to its school magazine The Vagabond, publishing three short stories: “Happily Ever After” (The Vagabond Nov 1930), “Semira” (The Vagabond Mar 1931), and “Two Fantasies” (The Vagabond Apr 1931). The University has since made these public domain materials available online.

In 2013, these three stories saw print commercially in the Galaxy’s Edge magazine, issues #2 (May 2013, “Happily Ever After”), #3 (July 2013, “Two Fantasies”), and #6 (January 2014, “Semira”), as well as best-of and omnibus editions.

None of these fragments and short works—the Dalmar stories, “The Spirit of St. Louis” poem, or the three amateur fantasies during her brief university period—have any obvious direct connection with C. L. Moore’s pulp fiction. That is, Northwest Smith does not appear to be Dalmar j’Penyra with a raygun, and if there was a prototype of the flame-haired Jirel of Joiry, she isn’t obvious. (There are certain interesting parallels between Dalmar and Henry Kuttner’s Elak of Atlantis, but Moore is not known to have had a hand in those stories and the parallels might well be coincidental.) Yet what these works make clear is that before C. L. Moore made her pulp debut she had already done years of prep work, reading and writing fantasy and adventure stories, developing her poetic sense, crafting the skills that would serve her well in her pulp career.

Such insight into developing writers is rare; readers today might be a bit spoiled with how much of the early and private work, even the juvenilia, of pulp writers like H. P. Lovecraft, Robert E. Howard, and Clark Ashton Smith is available for the right price. Most pulpsters, however, are blanks before their professional debut. We are fortunate to have these early examples of C. L. Moore’s work, which give us a glimpse at her process and development. For while she would polish her prose and improve her style and speed during her legendary career, it is evident that she was building on a foundation that went right back to childhood fantasy worlds, drawing on her love of fantasy, mythology, and adventure until—at last—she took the chance to submit something for publication.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein uses Amazon Associate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

Deeper Cut: Métal Hurlant/Heavy Metal/Metal Extra Lovecraft Special

France, 1974. Jean Giraud (Mœbius), Philippe Druillet, Jean-Pierre Dionnet, and Bernard Farkas came together to create Les Humanoïdes Associés, a publisher for a new type of comic magazine: Métal Hurlant (“Howling Metal,” 1974-1987). Initially released as a quarterly and focused on science fiction, Métal Hurlant featured some of the best international comic artists of its time, as well as some of the most daring content, not just featuring sex, drugs, and rock & roll—but humor, horror, gory violence, politics, and philosophy.

The magazine was successful enough to inspire spin-offs in other countries, largely based, at least initially, on material translated from Métal Hurlant. So in the United States and Commonwealth countries, Anglophones could read Heavy Metal (1977-2023), with various special issues, spin-offs, graphic novels, and other projects; in Italy, the localized version of Métal Hurlant lasted only 12 issues (1981-1983), with several standalone Metal Extra issues, though the sister magazine Totem lasted longer (1980-1984). In West Germany, Schwermetall (“Heavy Metal,” 1980-1984) lasted a respectable 57 issues under its first publisher, and eventually ran to issue 219/220 (1998). Spain had their own translation of Métal Hurlant in the 1980s, the Netherlands had Zwaar Metaal (“Heavy Metal”), Denmark had Total Metal, Finland had Kylmä metalli (“Cold Metal”), Sweden had Tung Metal (“Heavy Metal”) and Pulserande Metal (“Pulsing Metal”), Turkey had Heavy Metal Türkiye…most of these international runs didn’t last long, but they spread the stories and art far and wide.

The creation of Métal Hurlant coincided with a number of other trends. H. P. Lovecraft, Robert E. Howard, Clark Ashton Smith, and other early contributors to the Cthulhu Mythos became more widely available thanks to paperback reprints, and with the death of August Derleth, Arkham House lost its grip on the Mythos. New anthologies like The Disciples of Cthulhu (1976) proved that anyone could now play with the shared universe that Lovecraft and his friends had created. Argentinian master Alberto Breccia began and completed a series of Lovecraft adaptations for comics from 1973-1979, many of which first appeared in the Italian magazine Il Mago. Underground comix in the United States like Skull Comix (1970-1972) were giving way to semi-prozines like Star * Reach (1974-1979), and publishers also found they could side-step the Comics Code Authority by publishing magazines like Creepy (1964-1983) and Eerie (1966-1983) instead of standard-size comics, all of which featured material inspired by or adapting Lovecraft. H. R. Giger’s Necronomicon art collection was published in 1977, and quickly inspired the aesthetic for the film Alien (1979).

There was, in other words, a small revolution in Lovecraftian art, comics, and fiction in the 1970s. Not all at once, but from many different angles—and Métal Hurlant, the international crossroads where underground American artists like Richard Corben; French masters like Mœbius, Druillet, and Nicollet; Swiss artists like Giger; and Argentinian masters like Breccia could all come together at once.

That is what happened in September 1978, when Les Humanoïdes Associés published a 150-page special issue of Métal Hurlant dedicated to H. P. Lovecraft. The idea was so attractive that the next year, the English-language Heavy Metal magazine released their own Lovecraft special issue to coincide with Halloween, and when Métal Hurlant was translated in Italy, they released a one-off Metal Extra special issue dedicated to Lovecraft.

All three of these magazines share certain common elements, largely because the English- and Italian-language productions included material translated from the French special Lovecraft issue. Yet they were each different as well…and that’s kind of fascinating in itself, how these three magazines represent three different takes on the material, each tailored for their respective audience.

What follows is a survey: what each Lovecraft special issue contains, and by comparison, what they do not contain. To avoid excessive repetition, each issue and its unique contents are discussed separately, and then a single section discusses all the shared features. Because this is a long, image-heavy post, a table with links is provided to aid navigation:


Métal Hurlant Special Lovecraft (Sep 1978)

150 pages, counting covers, the table of contents, ads, etc., Métal Hurlant Special #33 bis (“extra”) was one of several themed issues released by Les Humanoïdes Associés, with the other themes including Fin du monde (“the End of the World”, #36), Rock (#39), Guerre (“War”, #42), and Alien (#43). Not every feature in this issue involves Lovecraft or the Mythos, but a majority do. There are errors in the table of contents as printed, so a full list is given here.

Features involving Lovecraft or his creations are marked in bold; color pages are marked [c].

  • Front Cover: H. R. Giger
  • “La cimetière” (illustration) by Souchu, 2-3
  • Advertisement for Heilman by Voss and A l’Est de Karakulac by Daniel Ceppi, 4
  • Table of Contents, 5
  • Edito triste./Edito gai by Philippe Manœuvre, 6
  • “La Chose” by Alain Voss, 7-12
  • “Lettres de Lovecraft” by François Truchaud, 13
  • “La Retour de Cthulhu” by Alan Charles & Richard Martens, 14-15
  • “La Nuit du Goimard: Un ecrivain nommé Habileté-à-l’amour” by Jacques Goimard, 16-18
  • “Le Monstre Sur le Seuil” by Norberto Buscaglia & Alberto Breccia, 19-29
  • Je m’appelle Howard Phillips Lovecraft” by François Truchaud, 30-32
  • “L’Homme de Black Hole” by Serge Clerc, 33-36
  • “Hommage à HPL…” (uncredited), 37-39
  • “Petite bibliothèque lovecraftienne” by François Truchaud, 40-41
  • “La Trace Ecarlate” by Jean-Jacques Mendez & Daniel Ceppi, 42-43
  • “Excursion Nocturne” by Frank Margein, 44-47
  • “Le langage des chats” by Nicole Claveloux, 48-49
  • Untitled illustration by Richard Martens, 50
  • “L’Indicible Horreur d’Innswich” by Philippe Setbon, 51-52
  • “Amitiés Rencontres” by Vepy & Daniel Ceppi, 53-57
  • “Barzai le Sage” by Marc Caro, 58-65
  • Advertisement for Richard Corben’s Den, 66
  • [c] “Le Chef d’Œuvre de Dewsbury” by Yves Chaland & Luc Cornillon, 67-70
  • [c] “L’énigme du mystérieux puits secret” by Yves Chaland & Luc Cornillon, 71-74
  • “A la Recherche de Kadath” by François Truchaud & M. Perron, 75-78
  • “H. P. Lovecraft 1890-1937” by George Kuchar, 79-81
  • “Les Bêtes” by Dank, 82-84
  • Advertisement for Le Diable by Nicollet and Les Naufragés du Temps by Paul Gillon, 85
  • “Le Necronomicon” by Druillet, 86-96
  • Advertisment for La Boite Oblungue by Edgar Allan Poe and La Rivier du Hibou by Ambrose Bierce, 97
  • Advertismenet for Les Trafiquants d’Armes by Eric Ambler
  • “Les 3 Maisons de Seth” by Dominique Hé, 99-101
  • “Les 2 Vies de Basil Wolverton” by Yves Chaland, 102-103
  • Advertisement for back issues of Métal Hurlant, 104-105
  • Advertisement for Métal Hurlant posters, 106
  • [c] “H.P.L.” by Jean-Michel Nicollet, 107-109
  • [c] “Ktulu” by Mœbius, 110-114
  • “Plat du Jour” by Vepy & Daniel Ceppi, 115-117
  • “Le Pont Au Dessus de l’Eau” by Luc Cornillon, 118-119
  • “Cauchemar” by Alex Niño, 120-129
  • H. P. Lovecraft au cinéma” by Jean-Pierre Bouyxou, 130-131
  • “L’Abomination de Dunwich” by Alberto Breccia, 132-146
  • Back cover by Richard Martens

Unique Content

Front Cover: A plate from H. R. Giger’s Necronomicon (1977).

“Cauchemar” (“Nightmare”) by Alex Niño is a 10-page black-and-white comic that showcases a series of nightmares realized in surrealistic and highly detailed form; Niño pays homage to the styles of other artists, naming Heinrich Kley, Arthur Rackham, Phillip Druillet, and Jean Giraud (Mœbius). Not explicitly Lovecraft-related.

Edito triste./Edito gai (“Sad Editorial/Gay Editorial”); “Edito triste” is written as by “Abdul Fernand Alhazred”, while the “Edito gai” (as in happy, not homosexual) is by Philippe Manœuvre. Both concern how the Métal Hurlant Lovecraft Special came together.

“Je m’appelle Howard Phillips Lovecraft” (“I am called Howard Phillips Lovecraft”) by François Truchaud is a brief biographical sketch of Lovecraft’s life, fairly accurate for the compressed time and space, with illustrations by Richard Martens and Druillet; the Druillet illustration is the same as the cover to the Lovecraft special issue of L’Herne (1969).

“La Nuit du Goimard: Un ecrivain nommé Habileté-à-l’amour” (“The Night of Goimard: A Writer Named Able-to-Love”) by Jacques Goimard is an essay on Lovecraft’s fiction, illustrated by Perry’s silhouette of Lovecraft.

“Le Monstre Sur le Seuil” (“The Monster on the Threshold”) by Norberto Buscaglia & Alberto Breccia is an 11-page black-and-white comic adaptation of Lovecraft’s “The Thing on the Doorstep.” Breccia’s art combines traditional pen-and-ink with collage, which leads a strange, otherworldly aspect to the artwork.

“L’énigme du mystérieux puits secret” (“The Riddle of the Mysterious Secret Well”) by Yves Chaland & Luc Cornillon is a 4-page color comic where an investigative duo investigates a mysterious well and uncovers some counterfeiters; slightly reminiscent in overall style to Hergé’s Tintin. Not explicitly Lovecraft-related.

“Lettres de Lovecraft” (“Lovecraft’s Letters”) by François Truchaud is a review of Lettres 1 (1978), the French-language translation of the first volume of Lovecraft’s Selected Letters. Illustrated by Mœbius’ cover for Lettres d’Arkham (1975).

“L’Indicible Horreur d’Innswich” (“The Unspeakable Horror of Innswich”) by Philippe Setbon is a short fiction that purports to be the last story written by H. P. Lovecraft, complete with a mock reproduction of the original manuscript written on an envelope, based on the famous At the Mountains of Madness envelope.

“Petite bibliothèque lovecraftienne” (“Little Lovecraftian Library”) by François Truchaud is a brief survey of Lovecraft-related material available in French publications, as well as some related publications such as The Occult Lovecraft (1975) and H. P. Lovecraft: A Biography (1975) in English.

Back cover by Richard Martens, based on a photo of Lovecraft.


Heavy Metal H. P. Lovecraft Special Issue (Oct 1979)

This material is taken, for the most part, from a bizarre and eldritch tome written in a strange tongue, the “Homage á Lovecraft” issue of Métal Hurlant. We trust it will add just the right touch to your Hallowe’en festivities.
—Sean Kelly, editorial for Heavy Metal vol. III, no. 6

96 pages, counting the ads, table of contents, etc., which makes for a thinner magazine that can still be side-stapled. Heavy Metal magazine vol. III, no. 6 is part of the normal numbering rather than an extra or one-off issue. While it draws much of its material directly from the Métal Hurlant Lovecraft special, the publishers chose not to reproduce all of the Lovecraft material from the French.

What didn’t they translate? The text pieces, the Georges Kuchar reprint, several of the more humorous and less Lovecraft-related comics, a couple pages of Druillet’s Necronomicon, and oddly the Breccia adaptation of “The Thing at the Doorstep.” What remains isn’t exactly entirely dedicated to Lovecraft, either, so that the “Lovecraft” issue has rather less Lovecraft-related material in it than might be expected.

Maybe there was a crunch with time to put the issue together, or some issues with the right. However, they also added a few things that didn’t appear in the Métal Hurlant issue, notably the J. K. Potter cover and “The Devil’s Alchemist,” a work of fiction. Unlike the Métal Hurlant Lovecraft special, the majority of Heavy Metal pages are in color, including colorizing some works that were in black-and-white in Métal Hurlant.

Lovecraftian items are marked in bold; color pages are marked [c]; items from the Métal Hurlant special are marked with an asterisk (*).

  • Front cover (“Mr. Lovecraft”) by J.K. Potter
  • Advertisement for Strategy & Tactics, 1
  • [c] Table of Contents, 2
  • [c]Advertisement for Job Cigarette Papers, 3
  • “…Thirty-one…” (editorial) by Sean Kelly w/ J. K. Potter, 4
  • [c] Advertisement for The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction, 5
  • [c] “Final Justice” by Chateau, 6-14
  • [c] Advertisement for Heavy Metal posters, 15
  • [c] Advertisement for Heavy Metal subscriptions, 16
  • [*] “The Dunwich Horror” (“L’Abomination de Dunwich”) by Alberto Breccia, 17-25, 74-80
  • [c] [*] “Ktulu” by Mœbius, 25-29
  • [c] “Xeno Meets Dr. Fear and Is Consumed” by Terrance Lindall & Chris Adames, 30-31
  • [*] “The Thing” (“La Chose”) by Alain Voss, 32-37
  • [*] “The Beasts” (“Les Bêtes”) by Dank, 38-40
  • [c] [*] “The Man from Blackhole” (“L’Homme de Black Hole”) by Serge Clerc, 41-44
  • [c] [*] “H.P.L.” by Jean-Michel Nicollet, 45-47
  • [c] “Love’s Craft” by Sean Kelly & Matthew Quayle, 48-49
  • [c] [*] “Dewsbury’s Masterpiece” (Le Chef d’Œuvre de Dewsbury) by Yves Chaland & Luc Cornillon, 50-53
  • [c] Advertisement for back issues of Heavy Metal, 54-55
  • [*] “The Necronomicon” by Druillet, 56-61
  • [*] “The Language of Cats” (“Le langage des chats”) by Nicole Claveloux, 62-63
  • “Chain Mail” (letters page, but comic by Christopher Browne) 64
  • [c] Advertisement for Dragonworld, 65
  • [c] “Pat and Vivian” by Frank Margerin, 66-68
  • [c] “The Alchemist’s Notebook” by David Hurd & William Baetz, w/Walter Simonson, 69-73
  • [“The Dunwich Horror” continued, 74-80]
  • [c] Advertisement for The Grailwar by Richard Monaco, 81
  • [c] “Bad Breath” by Arthur Sudyam, 82-89
  • [c] Advertisement for Heavy Metal books/graphic novels, 90-91
  • [*] “The Agony Column” (“Amitiés Rencontres”) by Vepy & Daniel Ceppi, 92-96
  • Back cover (“Elizabeth”) by George Smith

Unique Content

Front cover: “Mr. Lovecraft” by J.K. Potter. Before digital image manipulation programs existed, Potter was producing strange, disturbing images with a combination of photographs, airbrush, and traditional pen and ink. The effects, with Potter’s imagination, could be quite stunning. In this instance, he uses it to place Lovecraft in a cosmic scene. Potter would lend his talents to several future Lovecraft-related projects, including the cover for Tales of the Cthulhu Mythos (1990).

“The Alchemist’s Notebook” by Byron Craft (as by David Hurd & William Baetz) is an original work of Mythos fiction, with illustrations by Walter Simonson. A note on the first page says that this story is “an excerpt from the novelization of the upcoming movie, The Cry of Cthulhu“—but the film never made it past pre-production (Cthulhu Calling: An Interview with Byron Craft). In 2016, Craft published the full version of the novelization as The Alchemist’s Notebook, which was later changed to The Cry of Cthulhu.

“Bad Breath” by Arthur Sudyam is an 8-page comic that is principally black-and-white with color tints on Selected panels and figures; it follows an amorous young man whose bad breath is impacting his love life, and the solution he attempts has horrific—and amusing—consequences. Not explicitly Lovecraft-related.

“Final Justice” by Chateau is a 9-page color comic where a couple in Europe to write a book on historical crimes watch the re-enactment of a medieval murder at an ancient chateau. Not explicitly Lovecraft-related.

“Love’s Craft” by Sean Kelly is a poem, accompanied by an illustration by Matthew Quayle. Tentatively Lovecraftian based on the title, but with no direct references to Lovecraft or the Mythos.

“Pat and Vivian” by Frank Margerin is a 3-page humorous comic about a woman awoken by a strange entity at the door. Not explicitly Lovecraft-related.

“…Thirty-one…” (editorial) by Sean Kelly, discussing Lovecraft in brief. Accompanied by a photo-manipulated image of Lovecraft by J. K. Potter.

“Xeno Meets Dr. Fear and Is Consumed” by Terrance Lindall & Chris Adames is a two-page color fantasy/horror comic with a distinct textured painting style. Young Xeno, asking a fundamental question about certainty, sets off in dreams to find Dr. Fear—and does. Not explicitly Lovecraft-related.


Metal Extra Speciale Lovecraft (Nov 1982)

Cui, questo numero speciale di Métal Hurlant e un vero e proprio “omaggio” nei limiti è nei termini in cui puo esserlo una realizzazione a fumetti. Essa però dimostra sino a che punto è giunta oggi l’influenza del “solitario di Providence” e del suo mondo di sogni, di miti, di realtà alternative. E’un “ommagio” che ciascun disegnatore o scrittore ha estrinsecato secondo la sua predisposizione, il suo modo di vedere, il suo atteggiaento mentale, culturale, di spirito. E cosi (non ci si meravigli di ciò) vi saranno controbuti (fumetti) “seri” e meno seri o aprtamente ironici, allucinati e satirici. Un autore è amato non soo quando si prende sul serio il suo universo incubico (come ne L’uomo del Buco Nero, Il capolavoro di Dewsbury, ecc.), ma anche quando ci si scherza su, fra il serio e il faceto (Cthulhu), lo si prende aperamente in giro (La traccia scarlatta, Escursione notturna, Il ritorno di Cthulhu e cosi via).Hence, this special issue of Métal Hurlant is a real “homage” to the extent that a comic book production can be. However, it demonstrates how far the influence of the “solitary of Providence” and his world of dreams, myths, and alternative realities has reached today. It is an “homage” that each artist or writer has expressed according to his predisposition, his way of seeing, his mental, cultural, and spiritual attitude. And so (don’t be surprised by this) there will be “serious” and less serious or overtly ironic, hallucinatory and satirical counterparts (comics). An author is loved not only when his nightmare universe is taken seriously (as in The Man from the Black Hole, Dewsbury’s Masterpiece, etc.), but also when he is joked about, half-jokingly (Cthulhu), and openly made fun of (The Scarlet Trail, Night Excursion, The Return of Cthulhu, and so on).
Gianfranco de Turris, Metal Extra Speciale Lovecraft, 5English translation

Instead of trying to publish this as part of their regular series of issues, the editors in Italy essentially excerpted the majority of the Lovecraft comics content from the Métal Hurlant Lovecraft special and squeezed it into a 100-page (counting covers) square-bound Metal Extra issue. They also added some additional materials not in either the Métal Hurlant or Heavy Metal Lovecraft special issues

Lovecraftian items are marked in bold; color pages are marked [c]; items from the Métal Hurlant special are marked with an asterisk [*].

  • [*] Front Cover by Mœbius
  • Table of Contents, 3
  • “Howard Phillips Lovecraft” by Gianfranco de Turris, 4-5
  • [*] “Annunci sul Gironale…” (“Amitiés Rencontres”) by Vepy & Daniel Ceppi, 6-10
  • [*] “Barzai il Saggio” (“Barzai le Sage”) by Marc Caro, 11-18
  • [c] [*] “Ktulu” by Mœbius, 19-25
  • “Il Nome e la Cosa” by Luigi de Pascalis, 24-26
  • [c] [*] “La Traccia Scarlatta” (“La Trace Ecarlate”) by Jean-Jacques Mendez & Daniel Ceppi, 27-28
  • [*] “H. P. Lovecraft al Cinema” (“H. P. Lovecraft au cinéma”) by Jean-Pierre Bouyxou [uncredited], 29-30
  • [c] [*] “Il Capolavoro di Dewsbury” (Le Chef d’Œuvre de Dewsbury) by Yves Chaland & Luc Cornillon, 31-34
  • [*] “Il Ritorno di Cthulhu” (“La Retour de Cthulhu”) by Alan Charles & Richard Martens, 35-36
  • [*] “La Cosa” (“La Chose”) by Alain Voss, 37-42
  • [*] “Alla Ricerca di Kadath” (“A la Recherche de Kadath”) by François Truchaud & M. Perron, 43-46
  • [*] “H. P. Lovecraft 1890-1937” by Georges Kuchar, 47-49
  • [*] “Il Linguaggio dei Gatti” (“Le langage des chats”) by Nicole Claveloux, 50-51
  • [*] “Il Piatto del Girno” (“Plat du Jour”) by Vepy & Daniel Ceppi, 52-54
  • [*] “Escursione Notturna” (“Excursion Nocturne”) by Frank Margerin, 55-58
  • “R. H. B.” by Andreas & François Rivière, 59-66
  • [*] “H. P. L.” by Jean-Michel Nicollet, 67-69
  • “Incubo Londinese” by Riccardo Leveghi, 70-72
  • [c] [*] “Il Ponte dull’acqua” (“Le Pont Au Dessus de l’Eau”) by Luc Cornillon, 73-74
  • [c] “Oltre L’autore Lovecraft” by Onomatopeya, 75-82
  • [*] “Le 3 Case di Seth” (“Les 3 Maisons de Seth”) by Dominique Hé, 83-85
  • [*] “La Bestie” (“Les Bêtes”) by Dank, 86-88
  • [*] “L’Uomo di Black Hole” (“L’Homme de Black Hole”) by Serge Clerc, 89-92
  • [*] “Le 2 Vite di Basil Wolverton” (“Les 2 Vies de Basil Wolverton”) by Yves Chaland, 93-94
  • [*] “Omaggio a H. P. Lovecraft” (“Hommage à HPL…”), 95-97
  • “Piccola Bibioteca Lovecraftiana” by Gianfranco de Turris & Sebastiano Fusco, 98

Unique Content

Front Cover is a colorized version of Mœbius’ depiction of Lovecraft at his desk from Lettres d’Arkham.

“Howard Phillips Lovecraft” by Gianfranco de Turris is a two-page editorial-cum-introduction to the issue and Lovecraft, illustrated with reproductions of photos of Lovecraft.

“Il Nome e la Cosa” (“The Name and the Thing”) by Luigi de Pascalis is a short work of fiction about the Golem of Prague, accompanied by illustrations by Massimo Jacoponi, a photo of Lovecraft, and Perry’s silhouette of Lovecraft. Other than the illustrations, no explicit Lovecraftian content.

“Incubo Londinese” (“London Nightmare”) by Riccardo Leveghi is a short work of fiction. Illustrated by Bradley, Druillet’s cover art from L’Herne, a photo of Lovecraft, and two images from Lovecraft’s letters. Other than the illustrations, no explicit Lovecraftian content.

“Oltre L’autore Lovecraft” (“Beyond the Author Lovecraft”) by Onomatopeya is an 8-page fotonovela-style comic about Lovecraft’s life and literary afterlife, a montage of photos tinted, textured, and collaged together with speech bubbles and text boxes to provide a humorous but largely accurate narrative.

“Piccola Bibioteca Lovecraftiana” (“Little Lovecraftian Library”) by Gianfranco de Turris & Sebastiano Fusco; while sharing essentially the same title as its counterpart in Métal Hurlant, this is a brief listing of the relevant Arkham House volumes and the Italian translations of Lovecraft and related materials, including August Derleth’s “posthumous collaborations.”

“R. H. B.” by Andreas & François Rivière is an 8-page, black-and-white comic about Lovecraft’s friend R. H. Barlow.


Shared Content

Listed below are the shared features, drawn from the original Métal Hurlant issue and also appearing in either or both of Heavy Metal and Metal Extra, along with notes on differences between the versions and necessary context.

“A la Recherche de Kadath” (“Alla Ricerca di Kadath,” “In Search of Kadath”) by François Truchaud & M. Perron is a 4-page black-and-white fantasy pictorial map of Lovecraft’s Dreamlands in a lavish, detailed style. Appears in Métal Hurlant and slightly smaller in Metal Extra.

“Amitiés, Rencontres” (“Annunci sul Gironale…,” “The Agony Column”) by Vepy & Daniel Ceppi is a 5-page black-and-white comic. The French title translates literally as “Friendships, Meetings”, and the Italian as “Announcements in the Daily,” but in context it might better be called Personal Ads. The nameless protagonist is in police/medical custody, and flashes back to when he answered a personal ad in the paper, and received a response. When he goes to meet the woman, he is waylaid: the whole setup has been a trap. Not explicitly Lovecraftian. Appeared in Métal Hurlant, Heavy Metal, and Metal Extra.

“Barzai le Sage” (“Barzai il Saggio,” “Barzai the Sage”) by Marc Caro is an 8-page comic composed of several extremely dark, heavily-exposed photos of a sculpture of a figure in various poses and backgrounds; the text is derived from Lovecraft’s “The Other Gods.” Appears in Métal Hurlant and in Metal Extra, where text boxes replace the original typed text annotations.

“Excursion Nocturne” (“Escursione Notturna,” “Noctural Excursion”) by Frank Margerin is a 4-page black-and-white comic that is wordless until the final panel; the whole is a careful set-up of horror tropes with a comedic flourish. Not explicitly Lovecraftian. Appeared in Métal Hurlant and Metal Extra.

“Hommage à HPL…” (“Omaggio a H. P. Lovecraft,” “Homage to Lovecraft”) by uncredited is nominally a 3-page black-and-white cut-out diorama inspired by Lovecraft; though the content is more descriptive of general witchcraft and I haven’t been able to source any particular Lovecraftian inspiration. Appeared in Métal Hurlant and Metal Extra.

“H. P. L.” by Jean-Michel Nicollet is a 3-page color fantasy painted comic. A pair of fantasy creatures travel through a city to where a suited, winged figure sits on a throne atop a pillar, and asks a sphinx-like riddle. A panel reveals the figure has the face of Lovecraft. While slight in terms of content, and the events play out with a dry humor, the artwork is fantastic. Nicollet would go on to do many painted covers for weird fiction translated into French, including collections of Robert E. Howard, Clark Ashton Smith, etc. The winged, demonic Lovecraft would reappear on the cover of Robert Bloch’s Retour à Arkham (1980). Appeared in Métal Hurlant, Heavy Metal, and Metal Extra.

“H. P. Lovecraft 1890-1937” by Georges Kuchar is a 3-page biographical comic of Lovecraft’s life, which first appeared in the U.S. underground comix Arcade #3 (1975). Kuchar exaggerates certain elements of Lovecraft’s life and personality for comedic effect, but largely follows the available scholarship and characterization of H.P.L. in 1975. Appeared in Métal Hurlant and Metal Extra.

“H. P. Lovecraft au cinéma” (“H. P. Lovecraft al Cinema,” “H. P. Lovecraft at the Cinema”) by Jean-Pierre Bouyxou is an article on cinematic adaptations of Lovecraft up to that point, which was essentially The Haunted Palace (1963), Die, Monster, Die! (1965), The Shuttered Room (1967), Curse of the Crimson Altar (1968), and The Dunwich Horror (1970); although they also mention Necronomicon – Geträumte Sünden (1968) and Equinox (1972). Originally published in Métal Hurlant and translated for Metal Extra. Illustrated with stills from The Haunted Palace.

“KTULU” by Mœbius is a 5-page color comic; a group of politicians, finished with a week’s work, descend to a strange place and ask Lovecraft where to find a Ktulu to hunt. A surreal, sardonic work that owes little to the Mythos but echoes Mœbius’ other work of the period, like Le Garage Hermétique; the image of Lovecraft on a high throne oddly echoes Nicollet’s “H.P.L.” Appeared in Métal Hurlant, Heavy Metal, and Metal Extra.

“L’Abomination de Dunwich” (“The Dunwich Horror”) by Alberto Breccia, a 15-page black-and-white adaptation of Lovecraft’s “The Dunwich Horror”—and a fairly faithful and evocative adaptation, with particular care given to Wilbur Whateley and his unnamed twin. Appeared in Métal Hurlant and Heavy Metal; many of Breccia’s adaptations of Lovecraft stories first appeared in Italian in the magazine Il Mago, which may be why Metal Extra chose not to reprint it.

“La Chose” (“La Cosa,” “The Thing”) by Alain Voss is a 6-page black-and-white adaptation of Lovecraft’s “The Statement of Randolph Carter.” Voss elaborates on Lovecraft’s story a bit, making Harley Warren more sinister and flamboyant, and the grave they break into becomes an elaborate sepulchre, but is otherwise very faithful. Appeared in Métal Hurlant, Heavy Metal, and Metal Extra.

“La Retour de Cthulhu” (“Il Ritorno di Cthulhu,” “The Return of Cthulhu”) by Alan Charles & Richard Martens is a 2 -page black-and-white comic. “Uncle Nyarlathotep” narrates a tongue-in-cheek account of the ritual that results in the reincarnation of H. P. Lovecraft. Appeared in Métal Hurlant and Metal Extra.

“La Trace Ecarlate” (“La Traccia Scarlatta,” “The Scarlet Track”) by Jean-Jacques Mendez & Daniel Ceppi is a two-page, slightly humorless, mostly wordless spectacle. Métal Hurlant printed the comic in black and white, but Metal Extra added a bit of red to actually illustrate the “scarlet trace,” which works much better.

“Le Chef d’Œuvre de Dewsbury” (“Il Capolavoro di Dewsbury,” “Dewsbury’s Masterpiece”) by Yves Chaland & Luc Cornillon is a 4-page color comic that ells an original Lovecraftian story, somewhat in the vein of “Pickman’s Model,” with the mysterious Dewsbury taking the place of Pickman, but truncated and dedicated to not showing the unnamable horror. Appeared in Métal Hurlant, Heavy Metal, and Metal Extra.

“Le langage des chats” (“Il Linguaggio dei Gatti,” “The Language of Cats” ) by Nicole Claveloux is a 2-page black-and-white comic, and adapts an excerpt from “The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath” involving the cats of the Dreamlands. Appeared in Métal Hurlant, Heavy Metal, and Metal Extra.

“Le Pont Au Dessus de l’Eau” (“Il Ponte dull’acqua,” “The Bridge over the Water”) by Luc Cornillon is a 2-page comic where a man attempts to commit suicide by leaping from a bridge, and finds himself embattled by a protoplasmic tentacled entity. Not explicitly Lovecraft-related, though some might call it Lovecraftian. Published in black-and-white in Métal Hurlant, and colorized in Metal Extra.

“Les 2 Vies de Basil Wolverton” (“Le 2 Vite di Basil Wolverton,” “The Two Lives of Basil Wolverton”) by Yves Chaland is a 2-page black-and-white comic. In Lord Whateley’s residence is uncovered the diary of an old servant, Basil Wolverton (after the comic artist), who had long served the family. The diary describes how Wolverton was a mad genius who sought to use the life-forces of others to extend his lifespan and rule the world—but he chose as his experimental subjects Black slaves, and found afterward his he fell into idleness and stupidity. The story is effectively a brief echo of the kind of weird racism typical of 1920s and 30s pulp fiction, although the artwork is excellent. Appeared in Métal Hurlant and Metal Extra.

“Les 3 Maisons de Seth” (“Le 3 Case di Seth,” “The 3 Houses of Seth”) by Dominique Hé is a 3-page black-and-white comic in the form of a document about an artist’s visit to an ancient temple in Egypt, where he received a vision of the eldritch entity Suthluhlu. The artistic depiction of Egyptian pyramids, temples, statues, hieroglyphs, etc. is exquisite in its precision, though the Lovecraftian content itself is slight. Appeared in Métal Hurlant and Metal Extra.

“Les Bêtes” (“La Bestie,” “The Beast”) by Dank is a 3-page black-and-white comic. The narrative is slight, a soldier or servant informs a man that the Beasts are back, which turn out to be a collection of fanged dinosaurs (and, bizarrely, a rhinocerous of unusual size) that are mowed down with guns; the hunter leaves strange three-toed tracks as he leaves after the slaughter. It’s a surreal bit of fluff, striking for its visuals, but deliberately obtuse. Not explicitly Lovecraftian. Appeared in Métal Hurlant, Heavy Metal, and Metal Extra.

“L’Homme de Black Hole” (“L’Uomo di Black Hole,” “The Man from Blackhole”) by Serge Clerc is a 4-page comic. Howard Phillip Wingate, horror author, recalls a visit to Arkham, where he encounters Nathaniel Jenkins, a retired doctor who lived at Blackhole Cottage, and participates in his experiments. What he sees there causes him to flee, but he hears once more from Jenkins, whose brilliant mind has succumbed… The story is a pure pastiche of Lovecraft, with little visual and written nods scattered throughout. Published in black-and-white in Métal Hurlant and Metal Extra, but in color in Heavy Metal.

“Le Necronomicon” (“The Necronomicon”) by Druillet is 11 pages of black-and-white pseudo-script and illustrations, laid out as pages from an alien manuscript; a photograph of Lovecraft is included on the frontispiece. Druillet’s recension of the Necronomicon was released near-contemporaneously with Al Azif (1973) by L. Sprague de Camp, the Necronomicon (1977) by Simon, and The Necronomicon: The Book of Dead Names (1978) ed. by George Hay. Yet where the others focused primarily on producing some kind of decipherable content or referenced existing cultures and systems, Druillet deliberately made his pages evocative but untranslateable—and as a result, universal across all languages. Published in Métal Hurlant and Heavy Metal, with some slight differences in presentation.

“Plat du Jour” (“Il Piatto del Girno,” “Dish of the Day”) by Vepy & Daniel Ceppi is a 3-page black-and-white comic. A hooded figure buys a spider, takes it home, cooks it up, and serves it to a bed-written individual in a rat costume. The tone is slightly ghastly, but also slice-of-life. Not explicitly Lovecraft-related. Published in Métal Hurlant and Metal Extra.


Cultural Impact

In the decades after the Métal Hurlant Lovecraft Special was published, many of the stories and artwork have been reprinted in various formats and languages. Today, you can find collections of Druillet and Breccia’s Lovecraft comics and art in several languages. What might strike readers, however, is that the bulk of the three issues do not consist of adaptations of Lovecraft’s stories, but also comics, art, fiction, and nonfiction about Lovecraft himself. That issue, and to a degree the English and Italian magazines it inspired, was a nexus of Lovecraftian art and fiction that helped to further the spread of not just Lovecraft’s Mythos, but the myth of Lovecraft and his life, inexplicably entwined with his creations.

For many readers, one of these issues was their first introduction for Lovecraft. For some, it was an example of what Lovecraftian comics and art could be, unfettered by censorship or expectations to conform to commercial standards of what a comic or Lovecraftian work should be like. These works aren’t pornographic or particularly graphic, but they vary from reverent to irreverent, ghoulish to enchanting. Lovecraft and his work are interpreted many different ways by different creators—and that’s okay. There’s room for all those different approaches, and many more.

Métal Hurlant is being published in a new series. Perhaps appropriately, in August 2024 they published a new Lovecraft special—reflecting a new generation of talents to flex their imaginations and showcase their skills. It is a testament to the cultural impact of that first mammoth issue, but also a reflection that these specials are part of an enduring tradition. Creators that are happy not just to read about Lovecraft, his fiction and letters, but to participate in the process and add to the body of art and literature he inspired.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

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Deeper Cut: Lovecraft, the Rabbi, & the Historical Jesus

Charlie Brown: Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?

Linus Van Pelt: Sure, Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about.
A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)

The true season of Christ’s nativity is not definitely known, that event having once been celebrated on the 6th of January in connexion with the feast of Epiphany. The selection of December 25th as Christmas day occurred in the fourth century, and was undoubtedly a result of a desire to make the celebration coincide with the ancient Roman Saturnalia, which was a development of the primitive winter festival called Brumalia. Many of our present Yuletide customs are derived from the winter festivals of the Druids and of our Saxon ancestors.
—H. P. Lovecraft, “The December Sky” (1914), Collected Essays 3.131

It was the Yuletide, that men call Christmas though they know in their hearts it is older than Bethlehem and Babylon, older than Memphis and mankind.
—H. P. Lovecraft, “The Festival” (1923)

As a child, H. P. Lovecraft went to Sunday school at the local Baptist church. These lessons (and mandatory church attendance) appear to have begun around age 5 and ended around age 12. From then on Lovecraft’s religious education happened on his own, in his readings of history and the Bible. Several books in Lovecraft’s library speak to at least a general interest in the history of Christianity, or as reference works including The Evolution of Christianity (1892) by Lyman Abbott, The Life of Christ (1874) by Frederic William Farrar, The Comprehensive Commentary on the Holy Bible (1835-1838) by William Jenks, An Epitome of General Ecclesiastical History, from the Earliest Period to the Present Times (1827) by John Marsh, A Summary of Biblical Antiquities (1849) by John Williamson Nevin, and Martin Luthor (1881) by John H. Treadwell, among others.

While happy to celebrate Christmas as a secular holiday (see Lovecraft’s Last Christmas and Her Letters To Lovecraft: Christmas Greetings), Lovecraft seemed to be weaker on theology. His dismissiveness of anything supernatural and lack of churchgoing apparently extended to being uninterested in the finer points of Christian metaphysics and doctrine. As an ardent materialist, his approach to Christianity was colored by his reading in anthropology and his prejudices against superstition and Jewish culture.

So when it came to the historicity of Jesus Christ—the question as to whether Jesus of Nazareth actually existed, as depicted in the gospels of the New Testament—Lovecraft took a euhemeristic approach:

The word “Christianity” becomes noble when applied to the veneration of a wonderfully good man and moral teacher, but it grows undignified when applied to a system of white magic based on the supernatural. Christ probably believed himself a true Messiah, since the tendencies of the times might well inculcate such a notion in anyone of his qualities. Whether his mind was strictly normal or not is out of the question. Very few minds are strictly normal, and all religious fanatics are marked with abnormalities of various sorts. It is well known that psychologists group religious phenomena with other and less divine disturbances of the brain and nervous system. Whether, as the novel of Mr. Moore implies, Christ was alive after his nominal execution; or whether the whole resurrection legend is a myth, is immaterial. Very little reliable testimony could come from so remote a province as Judaea at that time.
—H. P. Lovecraft to the Gallomo, Oct 1916, Miscellaneous Letters 35

This was in regard to The Brooke Kerith: A Syrian Story (1916) by George Moore, a novel about an historical and non-divine Jesus who did not die on the cross and was subsequently nursed back to health. A decade later, the subject arose again when Georg Brandes’ Sagnet om Jesus was translated and published in English as Jesus: A Myth (1926), which argued against the idea of a historical Jesus.

I assume that the “Jesus Myth” review touches on the late Georg Brandes’ recent book—a thing I mean to read some day. I’m frankly undecided about the possible historicity of any one character corresponding to the crucified saint of tradition. He may be only a cultus-figure like Atys or Adonis, as some contend; but the East is so full of preaching ascetics & mildly touched Gandhis & such messiahs that I almost fancy it’s easier to assume that the Christ tradition was built up around some actual one of the thousand itinerant exhorters of the period. The whole affair was really as insignificant to the civilized world as a local squabble among the Moros in the Philippines would be to use today, & on account of its obscurity—an obscurity overridden by some very amusing post-facto developments—we are never likely to get any conclusive data. Brandes can really prove little or nothing either way—but it will be interesting to see what he says.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Paul J. Campbell, 2 Mar 1927, Letters to Rheinhart Kleiner & Others 357

Lovecraft’s position is based on the relative paucity of contemporary or near-contemporary accounts of Jesus outside of the gospels, principally in the works of Flavius Josephus and Tacitus. The idea of Jesus as the latest embodiment of a common myth-cycle of death and resurrection was current in anthropological circles. Sir James George Frazer included Jesus, Attis, Adonis, Zagreus, Dionysus, and Tammuz in his work of comparative mythology The Golden Bough (1890/1922).

It has always seemed doubtful to me whether any one person answering to the traditional Jesus ever existed in fact. In many respects the forms of Christianity closely followed those of the popular mystery-cults of the period—Dionysiac, Apollonian, Pythagorean, etc.—which joined Oriental and Hellenic concepts in a variety of ways. With this cult-background (wherein the idea of sacrifice and atonement was so marked) to start with, and with the age-old Jewish idea of a messiah superadded, it would be easy to build up a religious and heroic myth around any one of the sporadic evangelists of the East—or around several of them, fusing their personalities into one idealiased hero or demigod. This, it seems to me, is what must have happened. The tissue of miracles and too-neatly-dramatic episodes undoubtedly represents the purely mythos element; but certain touches of verisimilitude now and then suggest a substratum of fact. Incidents in the lives of several rustic preachers may be involved—though possibly one figures more extensively than others. Just who this one was, and to what extent the padded and myth-decked Gospel narratives relates his actual history, it seems to me can never quite be settled except through the discovery of hitherto unknown source-material. Parts of the popular tale—sacrifice, resurrection, etc.—are obviously derived from the nature-myth of Linus, Dionysus or Zagreus. Other parts—trial, etc.—might be tested by certain comparisons with contemporary accounts. But the lack of really reliable sources is almost fatal. That is, so far as general scholarship knows.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Robert Hartley Michael, 20 Sep 1929, Miscellaneous Letters 217-218

Without going into detail, Lovecraft is touching on the contentious nature of Biblical scholarship. While there are Biblical literalists who believe that the 27 canonical books of the New Testament (and maybe some apochryphal gospels) are literal truth and may be taken as accurate historical accounts, discrepancies between Biblical accounts and non-Biblical historical records and archaeology have inspired much scholarship and debate that suggests a more complicated history. This has resulted in competing ideas of Jesus as a historical figure with mythical attributes grafted on posthumously, and of Jesus as purely a myth.

Lovecraft accepted the idea of Christianity as a syncretic religion, based in 1st century C.E. Judaism but incorporating ideas and materials from other Mediterranean cultures and religions as it grew and spread. The idea of Christianity co-opting elements of pagan holidays into Christmas, and therefore the distorted survival of some elements of ancient pre-Christian religion, featured in his tale “The Festival,” which was inspired by reading The Witch-Cult in Western Europe (1921) by Margaret A. Murray.

Regarding Jesus, Lovecraft would continue to hold to the same line a few years later:

This annual course of the sun, with its mark’d effects upon terrestrial life, seems to produce a wholly independent cycle of myth in which the central figure is not the sun-hero himself, but a weak, lovely youth typifying terrestrial fertility—Dionysus—Iacchus—Zagreus—Adonis—Linus—Hylas—Taummuz etc. etc.—who is annually slain but later resurrected from the tomb to a new and glorify’d existence. There is scarce any doubt but that this myth, engrafted upon the Jewish legend of a coming Messiah and the feminine ethical notions of Syria in the age of the earlier Caesars, form’d the basis of the Christ-legend which wove itself about some itinerant Syrian enthusiast or enthusiasts of the time of Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, or Claudius—indeed, many of the earlier forms indicate the beautiful youth is meeting his cruel but temporary death for the sake of mankind; it being assumed that the perishing of autumnal things is needed for the new vivifying of the earth in the spring.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Maurice W. Moe, 18 Sep 1932, Letters to Maurice W. Moe & Others 339

For “Syrian” read “Middle Eastern,” or even more narrowly “Jewish.” “Syria” was historically applied to a wider region than just the contemporary country of the same name, and Lovecraft would use reference to Syria as general reference to the Middle East or to peoples historically associated with the region—including Jews. Muslims and Jews were often categorized as Oriental in origin and/or culture, and Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morality categorized Christianity as sklavenmoral (slave morality), derived from Judaism. Lovecraft, in particular, often categorized Jews, Jewish culture and religion, and by extension Christianity in this context as an “Eastern” religion throughout his life, although there were some small shifts in his viewpoint as he met more Jews and learned a little more about Jewish life and culture, as when he saw The Dybbuk (1925) by S. Ansky.

One of the Jews that Lovecraft met was Adolphe Danziger de Castro, an immigrant originally from Poland who came to the United States in the late 1800s. De Castro had an adventurous and slightly checkered life which saw him as a rabbi, journalist, dentist, lawyer, poet, writer, diplomat, and bigamist. Lovecraft would revise three stories for de Castro, two of which were published in Weird Tales: “The Last Test” and “The Electric Executioner,” though he would turn down the offer to revise Portrait of Ambrose Bierce (1929).

In 1934, de Castro had a new book he wished Lovecraft to revise: The New Way. Part of this dealt with the true paternity of Jesus Christ. Lovecraft brought his familiar views on the subject to bear, as tactfully as he could:

That this & the other books contain live material, as one could well doubt. Naturally much would be controversial—but that is all good advertising! Incidentally, I imagine that your genealogy of Jesus would draw challenges from many diverse sources—since the authenticity of all known ancient references to this shadowy figure is so doubtful. I believe it is fairly established that all allusions to Christ in Josephus & Tacitus are spurious interpolations, so that only the carefully & far from impartially edited gospels of the New Testament remain as even roughly contemporary accounts. And even they probably do not antedate in final form the latter part of the 1st century. It has always seemed doubtful to me whether any one person answering to the traditional Jesus ever existed in fact. In many respects the forms of Christianity closely floor those of the popular mystery-cults of the period—Dionysiac, Appollinian, Pythagorean, etc.—which joined Oriental & Hellenic concepts in a variety of ways. With this cult-background (wherein the idea of sacrifice & atonement was so marked) to start with, & with the age-old Jewish idea of a Messiah super-added, it would be easy to build up a religious & heroic myth around any one of the sporadic evangelists of the East—or around several of them, fusing their various personalities into one idealised hero or demigod. This, it seems to me, is what must have happened. The tissue of miracles & too-neatly-dramatic episodes undoubtedly represents the purely mythic element; but certain touches of verisimilitude now & then suggest a substratum of fact. Incidents in the lives of several rustic preachers may be involved—though possibly one figures more extensively than others. Just who this was, & to what extent the padded & myth-decked gospel narrative relates his actual history, it seems to me can never quite be settled except through the discovery of hitherto unknown source-material. Parts of the popular tale—sacrifice, resurrection, etc.—are obviously derived from the nature-myth of Linus, Dionysus, or Zagreus. Other parts—trial, etc.—might be tested by certain comparisons with contemporary accounts. But the lack of really reliable sources is almost fatal. That is, so far as general scholarship knows. The new sources you mention certainly sound exciting—although of course their authority in representing events which must vastly antedate them would have to be defended. Germanic lore would necessarily be purely oral as far back as the time of Christ—& anthropologists would see many opportunities for interpolation before it reached the written stage. Semitic lore, on the other hand, has been so carefully examined that any new interpretation would doubtless evoke a food of criticism from traditional academic quarters. Jewish allusions, I believe, are scattered, hostile, & fantastic—either reflecting the mythos of the gospels or enlarging upon them with matter equally improbable. Islamic references are all uncertain & derivative—merely echoes from already myth-strewn Christian & Jewish sources… & oral sources, at that. Of Pontius Pilatus singularly little is known from reliable accounts. Even his supposed suicide, I believe, has no better or earlier authority than the late christian writer Eusebius—a contemporary of Constantius. And of course the so-called “Acts, Epistola, Paradosis, & Mors Pilati” are all late concoctions—none of them antedating the 2nd century. Amidst this labyrinth of myth & forgery, the discovery of any really dependable source—a source that could prove its dependability both through internal evidence & through correlation with external evidence—would be a triumph indeed! So, as before mentioned, you certainly have a prize topic on your hands—* one which will bring plenty of debate. Tyrus of Mayence, I must admit, is a new figure to me. In the time of any grandfather of Christ, Mayence could have been no more than a crude wattled village of the Celts, for it was not until B.C. 13 that the Roman camp forming the nucleus of the classical & modern town was established by Drusus Claudius Nero. I know that links between the Celts & the Near East existed in & after the 3d century B.C., but I hardly though any relations with the homeland were maintained by the expatriate Galatians. I knew, though, that they retained their Gallic speech—even far into the Byzantine period. In any case your mention of a Tyrus of or from the Vangionian capital of Magontiacum on the Rhine excites my profoundest curiosity!
—H. P. Lovecraft to Adolphe de Castro, 14 Oct 1934, Letters to Alfred Galpin & Others 358-359

It is not clear exactly what sources de Castro was using. However, there was a tradition that gives Tyrus of Mayence (Mainz, Germany) as the father of Pontius Pilate. The legend is at least several centuries old, Thomas Decker’s early 17th century play Pontius Pilate relates one version of the story. Jesus (1868) by Charles F. Deems includes the passage:

The praenomen of Pilate is lost. Of his early history we have no authentic information. There is a German legend which represents him as the bastard son of Tyrus, king of Mayence. The story further goes that having been guilty of a murder in Rome, whither his father had sent him as a hostage, he was sent into Pontus, where, having subdued certain barbarous tribes, he rose to honor, received the name of Pontius, and was sent as procurator to Judea.

This legend, whatever its original source, was repeated, sometimes almost verbatim, sometimes with expansions, both in learned-sounding books like The Life of Jesus According to Extra-Canonical Sources (1887), A Dictionary of the Bible (1860), as well as numerous periodicals. The Voluminous podcast found a 1924 article “New Light on Pontius Pilate” by Henry W. Fisher, and we might add a 1924 newspaper clipping by Harry Stillwell Edwards and an anonymous newspaper clipping (The South Bend Tribune, 3 Apr 1928) that show a nearly identical legend. So there were numerous print accounts in English that de Castro might have run across at any point before 1934. The multilingual de Castro might even have read it originally in a German text.

So where does Jesus come in?

There are some possible references to Jesus in the Talmud, and the philosopher Celsus recorded a tradition informed by them that Jesus of Nazareth was actually the bastard son of a Roman soldier named Pantera (or Pandera, Pantiri, etc.). If de Castro combined the Tyrus/Pilate narrative with the Pantera/Jesus narrative by equating Pontius Pilate with Pantera, it would form the gist of the narrative of the “true” parentage of Christ.

Despite Lovecraft’s qualms, de Castro appears to have been adamant about the correctness of this narrative:

I judge from your letter that you would choose, as the first piece of revision, the section of your new book which treats of the possible parentage of Christ—plus perhaps the section on Wages; this text to be made self-sufficient & independent enough for separate publication if current opportunities dictate that and the most feasible policy. That choice, I imagine, is eminently sensible—particularly if you know of some publishing house especially receptive toward material of this kind. I sincerely hope that the project—either with the cooperation of some other reviser at the present time, or with my revision later on when I can handle more work. Of the possibilities of profit, I am of course too poor a business-man & judge. It is well, however not to be unduly optimistic; since even in case of publication a lucrative sale can by no means be counted on. Still, that would not form any good reason against the undertaking of the project if it were feasible; since the presentation of a powerful argument is indeed any enrichment of scholarship, is a primary end in itself. So, as indicated above, I’ll surely let you know whenever I can tackle any new task of the sort—unless previously notified that you have secured another collaborator. In any event I hope the ultimate outcome will be favourable.

Regarding the subject-matter of the book—I of course made no pretension to any sort of scholarship in stating what my vague & inconclusive guesses are. All that I have picked up are the odds & ends of common knowledge everywhere easily available. Perforce, I have to rely on the statements of others regarding the authenticity of this or that historical source. It is years since I have given this field any attention; & even in the past my attention was merely that of a superficial reader driven into occasional shallow dealings in order to justify my complete absence of all religious belief. Personally, I have not the slightest interest in any religion or its history; for I approach the whole problem of cosmic organization from a totally opposite angle—that of objective scientific analysis based on the evidence of the visible universe. Nothing seems more certain to me than that nature altogether lacks any indication of conscious governance. On the other hand, psychology & anthropology clearly explain why people in pre-scientific ages feal the so-called religious emotions & invented the various systems of poetic mythology to account for these emotions & to explain the then unknown phenomena of the earth & sea & sky around them. Although as technical disproof of a “cosmic mind” exists there are five almost indisputable reasons for not believing in such: first, the fact that it is the most awkward & least evidentially justified of all possible explanations of things; & second, that it is so obviously a human invention….a product of the animistic attribution of human qualities to the non-human & abstract. Thus to one all traditional considerations of religion seems essentially irrelevant, & even trivial except in connexion with historical & anthropological research. We can see too plainly behind all religions to take any of them seriously, or to prefer any one of them to any other except in terms of social, intellectual, & ethical effects. So far as truth or justification is concerned, they are all alike—hence I can look up their tales & characters…. Zeus, Brahma, Odin, Jesus, Gautama, Yahwe, Mohammad, Ahura-Mazda, Moses, Gitche Manitou, Quetzalcoatl, Mary Baker Eddy, Damballah, the angel Moroni, & all the rest…..only with such objective & analytical detachment as one finds in Frazer’s “Golden Bough.” What interests I have in the well-known religions of the ancient & modern world is purely historical—measured by their effect on the stream…or varied streams…of civilization. Thus Jesus & Yahwe—& all the folklore behind them— mean no more to me than Apollo or Thor or Mavors or Tanit or Huitzilopotchli; & do not command any more of my study & attention than do these fellow-objects of deific regard. Hence my lack of special scholarship in their direction. What interests me is the whole human pageant, & not any especial corner of it—except so far as environment & caprice have given me a particular concern for Anglo-Saxon civilization in the ancient world…a concern not exclusive enough to to destroy the scope & objectivity of any larger general perspective.

It is, then, only as an incident of history that the question of Christ’s personality, origin, existence, or non-existence interests me. I have not explored the subject in detail, & do not pretend to have any but casual, second-hand knowledge. When I have a guess, it was only a rough tentative one—based on what data are commonly floating around. In saying that a new theory would be hard to establish, I meant that there must be scholars who have minutely gone over all the available evidence many times before, & who would therefore challenge any interpretation of that evidence which might differ from their own interpretations…or from the interpretations of earlier scholars. In the case of obscure Jewish records, it is natural to assume that these must have been minutely explored by the vast number of profound Jewish scholars who have lived since the period of Christ. These scholars would have no motive for concealing any facts they might have discovered, or conclusions they might have reached, concerning the existence & parentage of Jesus. Standing outside the religion which seeks to make this figure a demigod or god, they would naturally be perfectly frank in setting down what they know of him—just as they would be in describing any figure whose significance is purely historical to them. Nay, more—they would probably be eager to bring forward any facts about Christ which would overthrow the claims of these who make a god-begotten Heracles or Theseus or Castor or Pollux of him. That the erudite Jewish scholars of nineteen centuries have not done this, despite their access to vast reservoirs of Hebraic traditional & records, would seem to indicate that the evidence on which any estimate of Christ’s parentage could be based is either newly discovered or else subject to controversy regarding interpretation. That is what I meant when I said a book containing a theory of this sort would have to withstand a general fusilade of debate. But of course you realize this yourself, & are doubtless prepared to welcome the discussion. If it turned out that your interpretation of Talmudic & other records could successfully establish itself against the negative interpretations of antecedent scholarship, your position could become one of vast importance indeed! My own opinion, as I have said, is in a state of flux—as all laymen’s opinions must necessarily be. All I can do is to judge at third or fourth hand relying on the extent to which real scholars agree or disagree—of the validity of the sources on which various historians base their arguments. I must endeavor to see a copy of your “Jewish Forerunners of Christianity”—which must be an extremely interesting & historically revealing book all apart from its framing on the present topic. Too bad it is out of print—or perhaps that is not so unfortunate after all, since you say that its method of approach to its theme is not what you would prefer to use today. I’ll see if any of the local libraries have a copy.

Regarding Moses here again is a figure which I have often felt must be at least partly mythical….a typical tribal hero around whom have clustered numberless legends, & to whom are perhaps attributed the deeds of many other heroes of many ages. I believe that some of the anecdotes related of him are clearly from Babylonian sources. But of course all my impressions are fragmentary & unsystematic. I shall be interested in seeing what your views on this shadowy figure are.

Yes—there surely is a curious irony in the series of accidents which have imposed upon the Western world a dominant faith of Semitic origin. Nietzsche, I believe, was the first of the moderns to point this out with emphasis. The general effect of this faith has been in part good—in that it has inculcated certain ethical factors more strongly than another faith might have done—& is part unfortunate, since it has raised certain demands &  expectations impossible of fulfilment by men inheriting the Western culture-streams. Itself springing out of the racial experience of a people vastly different from our own culture forerunners, it naturally fails to embody & express those deeply-grounded feelings & aspirations which are really ours. Embodying other feelings & aspirations which we cannot share except in a superficial & artificial way, it leads to a curious duality between formal ideals on the one hand, & real ideals & actual conduct on the other hands….a duality leading to wholesale & systematic hypocrisy. We pretend to follow a philosophy of justice, meekness, & brotherhood, while actually continuing to base our secret working standards on strength, personal inviolateness & unbrokenness, & the struggle for domination. We go to church on Sunday—yet continue to fight, grab, & exploit in the most approved pagan fashion. And the deep springs of action which really move us are never based on the weak Christian concept of virtue but always on the strength-prideful Teutonic concept of honour. We can laugh good-naturedly when anyone tells us we are unjust, vicious, or impious (i.e. delinquent in our relations to the governing forces of the universe), but are aroused to the fighting point when anyone dares question our honour (i.e., the straightforwardness of a man so strong that he has no need for subterfuge) or independence or courage. The difference in our instinctive emotions when confronted by these five different types of ethical attack is tremendously significant as regards the placement of our real & profound loyalties. Thus in spite of all the centuries of ostensible Christian belief we are not Christians except in name. It would have been more honest & less hypocritical if we had continued to adhere to the polytheistic pantheism which is our culture’s natural heritage, & which therefore more truly embodies & expresses what we really think & feel. A system synthesizing the God of Epicureanism & Stoicism would have served us much better than our accidental importation has done. It is, however, rather late in the day to change back—especially since the part played by any religion in the life of our civilization is rapidly waning. Forces & feelings far removed from the ecclesiastical are the things which really count in the crisis of transition around & ahead of us.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Adolphe de Castro, 22 Oct 1934, Letters to Alfred Galpin & Others 364-367

Jewish Forerunners of Christianity (1903) was one of de Castro’s earlier books, published under the name Adolph Danziger; chapter II discusses evidence of Jesus in the Talmud, but doesn’t dwell overlong on the parentage of Jesus. There are endnote citations for de Castro’s sources but, again, nothing really relevant to this new book.

Lovecraft’s lengthy reply was in keeping with his tendency to humor and encourage writers in his circle, even as he himself had no desire to take on a non-remunerative revision of such length and subject matter. In the later portion of the letter about Christian morals, Lovecraft is careful to tip-toe around actually badmouthing Jews or Judaism, focusing on the perceived hypocrisy of Christianity rather than critizing the Jewish religion that preceded it. In subsequent letters, Lovecraft continued to encourage de Castro in his writing:

I hope you will eventually prepare the life of Christ as once planned—it ought to have a wide appeal, & any points contrary to the orthodox case, thus could excite less opposition than they would have a few decades ago.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Adolphe de Castro, 14 Nov 1934, Letters to Alfred Galpin & Others 372

Because we lack de Castro’s letters for this part of the correspondence, there are many specifics about what specifically he wrote that aren’t entirely clear. Fortunately, Lovecraft was willing to describe it at length with another correspondent, which gives us much more insight into the subject:

About my current revisery work—I assume it is of the de Castro job which you wish to hear, since other odds & ends are of no distinctiveness at all […] Well—to begin with, I think I’ll have to refuse Old Dolph’s assignment—since he can’t pay in advance & since it’s so great a mess as to be virtually hopeless. What I will do—to cheer the old boy up amidst his present misery—is to touch up the phraseology a bit, & point out the more easily recognisable historical & scientific errors, & give some general critical advice. That will make it easier to revise later on if he ever finds anybody to do it. The MS. is a full-length book of miscellaneous social, political, & historical essays rather vaguely entitled “The New Way”, & has very little internal coherence. It appears to endorse the philosophy of Lenin & the bolsheviks, & in certain parts tries to give new & sensational interpretations of accepted history. In this latter field de Castro’s inescapable passion for charlatanry comes to the fore, & leads him into statements, theories, & alleged “discoveries” of every sort.

His climactic essay is a claim of having discovered the real facts concerning that most baffling of historico-mythical figures, Jesus Christ, including his true parentage on both sides. One can realise how important such a discovery would be, if it were true. Actually, we have so little reliable information about Christ that there is much doubt as to whether such a person really existed. Actually, we have so little reliable information about Christ that there is much doubt as to whether such a person really existed. Many of the stories told in the Gospels are old myths which have been told about others before. Probably there was some prophet or leader like Gandhi or Buddha at large in Judaea around the time of Tiberius, about whom a vast body of fabulous & ethical lore clustered, & whose legendary eventually became condensed into what we know as the New Testament. More than that it is unlikely that we shall ever know, since records are next to non-existent.

But old de Castro says he has all the unknown inside facts—which he claims he has discovered in “Germanic & Semitic sources.” According to him, Jesus was the illegitimate son of the imperial procrator Pontius Pilatus (who later tried him) by a Galilean gentlewoman named Mary, who later married the carpenter Joseph. Pilatus himself, continues Old Dolph, was likewise illegitimate—the offspring of a Roman named Tyrus & a German princess of Mainz, on the Rhine. As the story goes, Tyrus was a “king” or governor of Germany sent out by Augustus. At the capital Mainz he met & wooed the princess, but was forbidden to wed her by the Roman rule against the presence of wives abroad with proconsular officials. The result was Pilatus’ unsanctioned birth. Later the youth Pilatus went to Rome, killed a man in a duel, & was given a choice of two penalties by Augustus—to fight in the arena, or join a forlorn-hope expedition against a city called Pontus, where the Etruscans were in revolt. Choosing the latter, he behaved so bravely that Augustus gave him the complimentary name Pontius & appointed him a tax-collector in Syria. There at the age of 20 he met & courted the fair Galilean—who refused to wed him because he was a pagan idolater. Her delicate Judaic scruples did not, however, prevent her from giving rise to the anniversary about to be celebrated for the 1934th (or so) time. Pilatus, recalled to Rome, never knew that there had been a chee-ild until years later when—back in Iudaea as procurator—he condemned Jesus to death & learned only too late that he was his father! Such is de Castro’s dramatic story—offered as a true historic discovery. He isn’t very specific about his “sources”—& overlooks the fact that the German tribes had no written speech in Tiberius’ time, so that “Germanic sources” couldn’t be very first-handed at best. Also—who supposed that the Germans of that age gave a damn about what was happening in Syria? I can’t criticise his “Semitic sources” (the Jewish Talmud &c.) because I don’t know anything about them. But on the other hand, the yarn touches Roman history at several points—& there I have something to say. See how the “true historic discovery” stands up under the following undoubted facts:

  1. Tyrus is not a Roman name.
  2. Maguntiacum (mod. Mainz) was not the capital of any part of Roman Germany till later in the imperial age. It was an originally Celtic village, & was merely the tribal capital of the (probably Germanic) Vangiones in the Augustan period. It became the site of a fortified Roman post in B.C. 12.
  3. Augustus appointed no civil governors of Germany till A.D. 17. The rule against having wives with them did not apply to the military commanders who ruled Germany before it was a civil province—or pair of provinces. Thus Germanicus Caesar was accompanied by his wife, & their daughter Agrippina the younger was born in camp at Oppidum Ubiorum—later named Colonia Agrippinensis (Cologne) after her.
  4. Allowing for certain corrections in chronology, the date of the birth of Christ is traditionally set at what we now call B.C. 4. That would make it necessary for his father, if he begot him at the age of 20, to have been begotten at Mainz in B.C. 26. But there was no Roman occupation of Rhineland Germany till the expedition of Claudius Drusus Nero in B.C. 12. Prior to that date, all the fresh western conquests were below the Danube—Noricum, Rhaetia, & Pannonia (Tyrol, Austria, Hungary). In B.C. 26 the Rhineland was not subject to Roman rule—Caesar’s raids in B.C. 55 & 53 having come to nothing. Therefore Augustus could have appointed no governor there. As a matter of fact, there was never any Roman commander in Germany with any such name as “Tyrus”. The following are the only commanders appointed to Germany prior to the organisation of the civil provinces of Germania Superior & Inferior in A.D. 17:

    B.C. 12— Claudius Drusus Nero stepson of Augustus, brother of Tiberius, & father of the Emperor Claudius. he first brought the Roman power to the Rhine, & formed the string of forts now surviving as the cities of Coblenz, Bonn, Bingen, Mainz, etc.
    B.C. 9— Tiberius Caesar
    A.D. 9— Quintilius Varus massacred with all his army in the Saltus Teutobergiensis by the German leader Arminius or Hermann
    A.D. 14— Germanicus Caesar

    There were no others. “Tyrus” is obviously a myth.
  5. The duel did not exist in classical times.
  6. There is no town or city in Italy or elsewhere called Pontus. Pontus was a nation in Asia Minor or the Black Sea—famed for its Mithridatic kings.
  7. The Etruscans were never in revolt as late as the Augustan age. By that time they were cordially assimilated into the Roman people, so that Romans affected Etruscan fashions & boasted of Etruscan ancestry. G. Cilnius Maecenas was of Etruscan descent.
  8. The honorary surname bestowed for conquering a place called Pontus would never be Pontius. According to Roman usage, it would be PONTICUS. On the other hand, Pontius was a very common gens-name of Samnite origin. (cf. C. Pontius, who sent a Roman army under the yoke in B.C. 321, & Pontius Telesinus, who fell in the wars of Marius & Sulla B.C. 82.) The name Pilatus probably came from the word pileatus (from pileus, a freedman’s cap), signifying a freedman. Probably Pontius Pilatus, though himself an eques, was descended from some Fred slave of a Samnite named Pontius.
  9. There is no record of Pilatus’ ever having been in Syria before his appointment by Tiberius (through the pull of the infamous Aelius Sejanus) as procurator of Judea in A.D. 26. Very little is known of P.—all the accounts of his later life & suicide being definitely apocryphal. There is nothing of this short of thing antedating the biassed Christian writer Eusebius (A.D. 324).

In view of these things, you can judge for yourself what Old Dolph’s “historical discovery” really amounts to. It is, in truth, so crude that I have had to warn the old geezer that he can’t possibly get away with it. How a scholar of his calibre could be so ignorant of Roman history—or imagines others to be so—is quite beyond me. Whether he made the whole thing up himself, or found some crude German myth to base it on, I really haven’t the slightest idea. Of course, in discussing the matter with him I’ve had to be tactful & imply that his Germanic sources are unreliable. I can’t tell him to his face that he’s an old faker!  But I’ve warned him that the legend has fatal flaws.
—H. P. Lovecraft to F. Lee Baldwin, 23 Dec 1934, Letters to F. Lee Baldwin etc al. 116-119

Lovecraft was inadvertently correct in that it was the original legend de Castro relied on was the source of the errors, rather than de Castro himself. De Castro’s response is unclear, as he had other immediate concerns:

As for poor old de Castro—he couldn’t have seen us if we had called, for I’ve since learned that he was laid up all through January with a nervous breakdown—through worry over his wife’s illness. And to cap the climax, she died Jany. 23 at St. Joseph’s Hospital. We certainly do feel sorry fro the old cuss, for he is really an enormously likeable & generous chap aside from his incurable penchant for charlatanry. Hope he’ll gradually recover from the strain & bereavement. His chapter on the ancestry of Christ surely was grotesque & vulnerable.
—H. P. Lovecraft to F. Lee Baldwin, 16 Feb 1935, Letters to F. Lee Baldwin etc al. 124

Months later, de Castro seems to have recovered sufficiently from his bereavement to return to the topic:

The diverse losses I suffered, the grief that attacked me has not left my mind unscathed. I cannot for the moment lay my hands—or my memory—on the authorities I read (in German, Mommsen, Niebuhr, Ranke and others) not to mention Gibbon and others relative to my assertions. But there is a vast literature in ancient and modern Hebrew (I mean during the 8th century A.D.) that have a variety of suggestions—for you may believe me that I did not concoct this statement just to be “smart,” or sensational. If the suggestion is taken up at all, it will bring forth the originals. These are not from some unknown author, but, as I recall, by the great classical historians, whether in German, French, Spanish or any other of the languages I read for research purposes, I cannot at the moment tell.

[[See how old Dolph tried to bluff out the hilarious historical boners in his “parentage of Jesus” fake!]]

—Adolphe de Castro to H. P. Lovecraft, 24 Sep 1935, Letters to Alfred Galpin & Others 380

Lovecraft shared this letter with one of his correspondents, and the comments in [[brackets]] are Lovecraft’s annotations. The authorities de Castro cites are Theodor Mommsen, Bartold Georg Biebuhr, Leopold von Ranke, and Edward Gibbon, all historians who wrote extensively on the Roman Empire. Still, having received the letter, Lovecraft had to answer it—at length.

Regarding the historical points—I did not mean to imply that the account was concocted for purposes of sensationalism. I simply pointed out that, in present form, it might “go over” best if given the semblance of an historical novel. Just how the material could be given in any other way—lacking correction & verification from original authorities—I really can’t see. As you may readily perceive, this account states & implies dozens of things at direct variance with well-known historic facts—such as the presence of Roman rule in Germany before B.C. 13, the use of “Tyrus” as a Roman name, the location of provincial rule at Magontiacum at too early a date, the identification of Pontus as an Italian city, the idea of Etruscans in revolt after their full absorption into the Roman people, the false derivation of the common Samnite gens-name Pontius, the existence of the duel in pre-medieval times, & other points which could not pass inspection for a moment. No matter what original source supplied the general thesis, these specific points (& others like them) would cause it to be attacked at once—hence is is absolutely necessary to remove these obvious errors (however they may have crept in) before the text can go before the public. With these absolute & unmistakeable errors, the thesis could never be judged on its own merits. It would be dismissed at the outset because it would seem to rest on overt & flagrant contradictions of common fact. It is not fair to the thesis to offer it under such an insurmountable handicap—nor do I think that any publisher would be willing so to offer it. Thus it seems imperative at this stage to get the mistakes cleared up, so that the message will be in deliverable form.

I realise of course the difficulty of reassembling authorities when no notes have been kept—but how else is the original account to be rediscovered? The existing mistakes could not have been in any of the solid sources…so what was it that the solid sources really said? I can assure you that Mommsen, Niebuhr, & Gibbon do not sustain any contentions contrary to accepted history, for I have in my day read them (M. & N. in Eng. translation). In view of the bold & revolutionary nature of the assertions, it ought not to be difficult to narrow down the search for their origin by eliminating many of the standard authorities. In any case, you can see how impossible it is to present revolutionary claims without any visible sources—especially when linked with dozens of palpable errors.

Of course, the most important thing is to eliminate the flagrant errors. If that were done, the lack of accessible authorities would be a less immediate handicap—especially if the quasi-fictional style were adopted. But in the end, of course, the lack of visible originals would weigh heavily.

So it is clear that the one thing which must be done now is to clear up the errors. This might not need a consultation of the original sources—but could perhaps be done at once by yourself with the actual historic facts in mind. Remember that there was no Roman rule along the rhine till the time of Drusus Nero—B.C. 13-12, & that the region did not have a civil governor anyhow till A.D. 17, when the provinces of Germania Superior & Germania Inferior were formed. Remember also that Pontius was a common Samnite nomen—& that Pontus was a Black Sea province pacified long before & joined administratively with Bithynia…nothing to do with Italy or the Etruscans—the latter element being, by the way, fully absorbed by the Roman people. Surely the narrative could be re-cast in harmony with these absolutely certain & widely known historic truths.

I am sure you realise that all these suggestions of mine are made without any hyper-critical intent, & simply to aid the success of the book. It obviously cannot be published until the errors are straightened out—hence the one imperative thing is to get them straightened as soon as possible. And that is something which only you can do, unless your original authorities become accessible to others.

Of course, the entire omission of the historic chapters of the book at this time would be possible. Indeed, much might be said in favour of this—since they will clearly appear under a handicap until the sources are found. The time for publication is, very plainly, after all the knotty points are straightened out.

The necessary thing is to throw the controversy back from yourself to the authorities from whom you derived your narrative. Then you will not be responsible for the weaknesses in the account. It seems to me very probably that these stories originated in mediaeval times, when the sense of history was slight, & critical standards lax. Close examination of the account discloses such a theatrical quality that one can hardly doubt the development after the wide popularisation of the original New Testament narrative—adding a dramatic coherence & climax dependent upon the significance attached to the original tale. The element of coincidence involved in having the son of Pilatus tried before him is typical of the older school of dramatic construction. Now of course this was probably a natural growth over a long period—just like other folk-tales throughout the world. It may well recur in different mediaeval writings both Christian & Jewish—& Mohammedan also for that matter—as for other apocryphal legends. But the genesis of the tale as legend would of course form no guarantee of its genuineness as history. Still—this latter point need not bother you. Your purpose is to show that the legends exist—& once you do that, you can let the critics tackle the original legends as best they may. But you can do that only by rediscovering & citing your sources. Without such backing, you yourself instead of your sources will have to bear the brunt of the attack.

So my earnest advice is that you bend every effort toward the elimination of errors & rediscovery of sources before the account is again offered for publication. I’d recommend an easier & simpler course if I could, but I can’t see any, try as I may. You may get further suggestions from your agent, or from the publisher to whom he has submitted the book. And more—when you re-read the chapters in question more closely, you may recall the primary sources more readily than you could off hand. But remember also that the book would be quite suitable for submission without the debatable chapters. You could, if you wished, remove them for later investigation & verification.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Adolphe de Castro, 26 Sep 1935, Letters to Alfred Galpin & Others 381-383

To say that Lovecraft didn’t want to do the job of revising de Castro’s manuscript is putting it mildly; but his argumentsand critiques are well-meant. Lovecraft could foresee exactly the kind of attacks that would be made on de Castro’s claims, and Lovecraft was not even a specialist in early Christian history. Nevertheless, de Castro was dogged in the defense of his theory, and Lovecraft didn’t back down from the debate:

I am greatly interested in the researches you have made concerning those debate-filled historic chapters. I did not doubt but that the original sources would turn up in the end—after sufficient searching—& I trust that they will be duly cited in the final version of the text.

Vilmar is an authority unknown to me—but as you see, his account (if it is literally the same as that presented in the text) is obviously legendary. The stubborn fact remains, that no Roman occupation of the Rhineland existed until about 8 or 9 years before the traditional date of the birth of Christ…which is 4 B.C., as commonly reckoned. Also—even if certain writers refer to a rebellion in Pontus during the Augustan period, it is obvious that the Etruscans had nothing to do with it—since Pontus lies far off on the Euxine, while the Etruscans had long been assimilated into the Roman fabric. Just how this connexion of Pontus & the Etruscans could have arisen—except through the inaccurately (sic) associative process of mediaeval legend—I can’t imagine…unless perhaps the revolt mentioned involved troops or colonists in whom the Etruscan element was strong. Furthermore—the derivation of the name “Pontius” from Pontus is obviously false. All agree that the name as borne by anyone in the Roman world must have come from membership in the ancient gens Pontia—the Samnite family so frequently encountered in the history of the Republic. An honorary cognomen or “adnomen” bestowed for exploits in Pontus could have but one form—PONTICUS—according to the linguistic laws governing such formations.

I’ll look in Suetonius for the account of that earlier Syrian appointment of Pilatus. Curious that I don’t recall it—though it’s fully 30 years since I’ve read Suetonius—an author whom I unfortunately do not own. I really must pick up a copy when I find one reasonably priced. Regarding Tertullianus (yes—I recall his praise of Pilatus—”iam pro sua conscientia Christianum”) & the Talmud—of course the late dates of these writings causes them to be open to legends arising out of the earlier Judaeo-Christian accounts…legends consciously or unconsciously built dramatically from the first crop of mingled fact & myth, & coloured with religious zeal or prejudice one way or the other. As you know, Pilatus was an especially favoured subject of myth-making-Eastern & Coptic traditions giving him a Christian wife (Claudia Procala or Procia) who is to this day a Greek church saint, while the subjects of the just-now-limelighted Halie Selassie make Pontius himself a saint & Martyr! Then there are of course the apocryphal Acta Pilati, Epistola Pilati, Paradosis Pilati, & Mors Pilati (probably Judaeo-Christian)—full of fantastic tales of pilatus’ sight of the resurrection, of his trial & sentence by Claigula, his penitent conversion to Christianity, his suicide to escape sentence (which contradicts another legend that he was beheaded at Nero’s order), the removal of his body to Vienna (where a structure* called “Pilate’s Tomb” is still exhibited. The chronicler naively traces the name VIENNA to VIAGEHENNAE! This place also figures in legend as the seat of Pilatus’ banishment during his lifetime.) & later to a mountain pool near Lucerne because the Tiber & Rhine both refused to harbour it. (the site of this pool is now called “Mt. Pilatus,” & according to legend the water displays strange agitation if anything is thrown into it. The devil removes the still-preserved body of Pilatus each year—on good Friday—& forces it to go through a curious hand-washing ceremony on a throne.) These apocryphal books probably date from the 2nd century A.D. & afterward. Eusebius (circa 325 A.D.) in his famous [Ecclesiastical History] (& after exposure to all the current Christian legends) is the source of the statement (which may or may not have a basis in fact) that Pilatus was banished to Vienna by Caligula & committed suicide there because of various misfortunes. Regarding Talmudic sources—of which I have no knowledge—one may only point out that later recordings of lost records are often coloured with legendary which did not exist in the original versions. Obviously, only a profoundly erudite student of Jewish antiquities could form a just verdict on the extent to which fragmentary transcripts & recensions of these early Palestinian Evangels (themselves probably derived to some extent from purely oral legends of a century’s growth) can be accepted as historical. All that is beyond me. The remarkable thing is, though, that the indicated origin of Jesus has not been more widely accepted if the documents are generally regarded as dependable. One could understand a wish to suppress these documents in the Christian world—where the myth of a divine paternity was to be sustained at any cost—but I cannot see what reason the Jewish would would have to suppress them. The existence of a fanatical preacher of left-handed origin & wholly human parentage would mean nothing one way or the other to the Jewish religion. He would be grouped with other heretics who lived & founded false sects & died—& there would be no object in concealing any facts pertaining to him. And yet, so far as I know, the version here given is not endorsed by the main stream of Jewish scholarship. Though I have no exact knowledge of the views of Jewish historians, orthodox or otherwise, I seem to recall references here & there which indicate a conflict of opinion—some regarding christ as a local impostor while a few accept the cult idea & disbelieve in his objective existence. At any rate, I believe there is no attempt to take seriously the hostile & widely conflicting Talmudic references (none of which, so far as I know, mentions Pilatic parentage) which influenced Judaism in the late imperial & mediaeval periods. Just what modern Jewish scholarship thinks of christ could make an interesting subject for study—I must look it up some day in the Jewish Encyclopaedia, which is generally accessible in libraries. But I feel very sure that the Pontian theory would be more widely noted & cited if it were accepted by any responsible body of Jewish scholars & historians. In the absence of such general acceptance one is forced to the provisional conclusion that the legends in question are vague & apocryphal. At least, that is the conclusion of one without special information based on new historical discoveries.

The whole matter is certainly highly interesting, & I would indeed be glad to use the notes you have so generously offered to send. I may not be able to follow them up at once, for my programme is desperately crowded but I would be grateful for a copy to have on hand for gradual following-up. Probably most of the sources could be located in Providence libraries. I have Smith’s Bible Dictionary—but unfortunately an old abridged edition which sheds no light on the points in question. Meanwhile I must get a look at Suetonius somewhere—for I can’t recall any reference to the earlier service of Pilatus in Syria. The statement that he served under Archelans is also puzzling—insomuch as that tetrarch did not succeed in Judaean throne till after the birth of Christ according to the received account. Archelans’ father Herod the Great (who may or may not have conducted the “slaughter of the innocents”) was on the throne when Christ is said to have been born…. The Roman governor (legatus pro pratore) then being P. Quinctilius Varus, afterward so tragically overwhelmed by the Germans with his legion in the Saltus Teutoburgiensis (A.D. 8). Archelans became tetrarch during the first year of Christ’s reputed existence—Varus being then replaced as propraetor by the rather low-bown P. Sulpicius Quirinius, an ex-consul who had been proconsul of Africa. Varus was such a close friend of Archelans that Augustus didn’t dare to trust them in the province together—between them they’d have doubtless looted it completely. Later Archelans was banished to Vienna—a circumstance which may or may not have some connexion with the tale that Pilatus also was banished thither. With him ended the tetrarchate—the region of Syria Palestine being then (A.D. 6-7) organised as the imperial province of Judaea under a procurator. When, then, did the young Pilatus first serve in Syria? Before the birth of Christ under Herodes the Great, or after it under Archelans? Or did Archelans have some minor office wherein he was Pilatus’ chief prior to his accession to the tetrarchate? It is odd how every new angle of this legendry brings up some fresh problem. But I must get hold Suetonius & see what I have forgotten or overlooked.

I’m greatly interested to learn that you find grounds for believing the Christ reference in Josephus not interpolated. hitherto the tendency to reflect this—as well as a corresponding reference in Tacitus—has been well-nigh universal. An article on the subject alone, it seems to me, would be well worth writing.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Adolphe de Castro, 5 Oct 1935, Letters to Alfred Galpin & Others 384-386

If anyone ever asked St. Nicholas for a history of Christ-era Judea from the pen of H. P. Lovecraft, then their Christmas wish has been answered at long last. Lovecraft’s confession to a lack of knowledge of Jewish history and scriptures is honest—he had to consult the Jewish Encyclopedia to uncover the mystery of the mezuzah just the previous year (see The House of Rothschild (1934)), and elsewhere admitted to ignorance of basic matters such as what kosher meant. Much of his apparent erudition above probably came from encyclopedia articles and books from his library.

Whether de Castro finally took Lovecraft’s critique to heart or not, the subject appears to have passed out of their letters—though Lovecraft wasn’t above talking about it to others.

The author’s imagination has in these cases gone off on rather a romantic spree! In the climactic chapter on the parentage & ancestry of Jesus there are more historic boners per square inch than in any other historic hoax I have ever encountered! But for all that Old ‘Dolph is a good soul—& now & then an idea or synopsis of his might be well worth developing.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Rheinhart Kleiner, 16 Aug 1936, Letters to Rheinhart Kleiner & Others 234

The subject of the historicity of Jesus Christ does not come up often enough in Lovecraft’s letters to really track a change of opinion—by the time Lovecraft was an adult, he seemed fairly set that Christianity was primarily a superstition, and that a historical Jesus, if he existed, was no more than one of many evangelists in the Middle East during that period, who had by fluke of history inspired the religious movement that would dominate European (and, through colonization, world) history over the coming centuries.

In the strictest sense, Lovecraft did not believe in Christmas. He did not have faith that a messiah had been made manifest in human flesh, did not celebrate the miracle of the virgin birth, the symbol of hope for the redemption of sinful mankind. Yet the spirit of Christmas, the spirit of giving and fellowship, shorn of religious trappings—that Lovecraft believed in, and when he counseled Adolphe de Castro on his manuscript, it was not religious scruple or dogmatic belief that made him reject a heretical notion of Christ as a bastard and the son of a bastard, but because he wished to keep his friend from making mistakes that would open him up to harsher criticism and ridicule.

Late in life, when the subject of Christmas and Christ came up, Lovecraft would write:

The Jesus-myth always left me cold, & even my worship of beauty & mystery in the form of Apollo, Pan, Artemis, Athena, & the fauns & dryads ended when I was 8.
—H. P. Lovecraft to C. L. Moore, [7 Feb 1937], Letters to C. L. Moore & Others 222

Linus in A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965), gave an honest and scripturally accurate answer when asked what Christmas is all about. Lovecraft gave an honest Lovecraftian answer. For him, the holiday was not the celebration of a miraculous event; it was the remembrance of a long tradition that connected back into the hoary ages of things. A link to the ancient and forgotten past—and, as well, a time of thanksgiving to be shared with friends and family. That is what Christmas meant to H. P. Lovecraft.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

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Deeper Cut: H. P. Lovecraft, Three Letters to the Editor, 1909

Historical Racism
Included below are excerpts from period newspapers that contain historical racism and racist language.
As such, please be advised before reading further.


A nervous breakdown and poor attendance prevented H. P. Lovecraft from graduating high school in 1908. A spat in the letter columns of the Argosy led to Lovecraft joining amateur journalism in 1914. The period in between these events are the most mysterious of Lovecraft’s adult life. It is the era when we have the fewest letters to guide us on his daily activities, when he seems to have been the recluse that he later pretended to be.

We know, from Lovecraft’s later letters, that Lovecraft did not find a job or complete his education, although he took some correspondence courses and perhaps night school classes. He lived at home with his mother, read voluminously, and occasionally wrote letters and poems that were published in newspapers and pulp magazines. Yet he seemed to have no close friends during this period, no occupation; it is difficult to form an impression of his mental and physical health. The letters to the editor, and the rare responses such as “Not All Anglo-Saxons” (1911) by Herbert O’Hara Molineux, appear to have been his main social outlet and feedback; at least, those are what we have to go on.

So it is always interesting to run across “new” letters from Lovecraft in this period. The digital archive of the Providence Journal in Rhode Island have revealed three letters from Lovecraft to the paper published in 1909. They provide an insight not only into Lovecraft’s thoughts during his “hermitage,” but provide some continuity with his later conflicts once he joined amateurdom and came into more regular contact with other people. It is easiest to discuss these letters with regard to their subject and context.

H. P. Lovecraft on Robert E. Lee

In January 1909, the outgoing president Theodore Roosevelt wrote a letter to the Robert E. Lee Memorial Association, encouraging them to work on a permanent memorial for the Confederate general. The letter was widely published and reported on in the newspapers, and a succinct notice appeared in the Providence Journal:

Providence Journal, 22 Jan 1909

Memorials to Lee were not entirely lacking; Washington College was renamed Washington and Lee after Lee’s many years of service there, and the University Chapel (formerly the Lee Chapel) contains the remains of Robert E. Lee and many of his immediate family. The announcement stirred emotions, since the Confederates were traitors and fought for the cause of slavery. Charles F. Janes wrote a letter to the editor in response.

This in turn inspired a lengthy response from one H. P. Lovecraft, which reply was printed in the 31 Jan 1909 edition of the Providence Journal:

Robert E. Lee

To the editor of the Providence Sunday Journal:

In the Journal of Jan. 24 I notice a letter of Charles F. Janes relating to Roosevelt’s proposed memorial to Gen. Robert E. Lee, in which several statements somewhat derogatory to the great Confederate leader’s motives are made. Mr. Janes asserts that our President honors Gen. Lee only because he was an able warrior, insinuating that the cause for which he so valiantly labored and bravely suffered was wrong, indirectly accusing him of attempting to “destroy this Government of the people, by the people and for the people,” and calling him a “foe of the country.” This unjust treatment of Gen. Lee can be construed as nothing more than a survival of the rabid, unreasoning spirit which pervaded the North before, during and immediately after the Civil War. When Robert E. Lee became a General in the Confederate Army, he did so not as an enemy, but as a friend of the Republic. He saw that no peace could come to the Union if Southern affairs were to be managed by Northerners who had no definite ideas of the actual conditions in the South, and who derived their information as to slavery from false and exaggerated reports, or from hystical effusions like “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” which portrayed the darkest side of the situation. In other worse, he clearly saw that his State had seceded only because the yoke of the Union bore too heavily upon it, and that its secession was within the limits of constitutional right.

It was not without regret that Gen. Lee entered into battle against the flag under which he had once nobly fought; it was not that he loved the Union less, but Virginia more. Believing in the best of faith that he was benefiting the country by separating the two discordant sections, fighting up to the very last for the cause he knew to be right, yet supported only by a pitifully small band of hungry, sick and ragged heroes, Gen. Robert Edward Lee deserves not one word of censure from the American people, but volumes of praise and veneration. As Senator Hill of Georgia once truly said: “He was Caesar without his ambition. He was Cromwell without his bigotry. he was Napoleon without his selfishness. He was Washington without his reward.

H. P. LOVECRAFT
Providence, Jan. 24

During Lovecraft’s childhood in the 1890s, groups like the United Daughters of the Confederacy and the United Confederate Veterans made concerted efforts to promote the “Lost Cause” mythology of the C.S.A.—painting the Confederate soldiers as heroes fighting against overwhelming odds to preserve Southern white culture. These groups promoted the construction of Confederate military monuments and the censoring of school books that published narratives “unfair to the South.” Lovecraft was at the perfect age to absorb this pro-South, white supremacist message, and he did, characterizing himself and his friends as “Confederate sympathizers” (LRK 70) and composing poems such as “C.S.A. 1861–1865: To the Starry Cross of the SOUTH” around age 12.

In adulthood, Lovecraft continued to view the South through the lens of Lost Cause ideology, and wrote: “The more I learn of the South, the more my Confederate bias is strengthened” (LJM 355)—which attitude is perhaps understandable when most of what Lovecraft absorbed would have likely continued to promote those same slanted views. Lovecraft also showed some admiration for Southern leaders such as Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee. One visitor to his room noted small pictures of Robert E. Lee and Jefferson Davis on the wall by his desk (AAV 100). This 1909 letter to the editor exemplifies Lovecraft’s rose-tinted view of the antebellum South.

In his letters, Lovecraft specifically emphasized Lost Cause viewpoints such as emphasizing the legitimacy of secession, the legality of slaveholding, and the evils of Reconstruction by “the diabolical freed blacks and Northern adventurers” (ML 434), “ignorant adventurers and politically exploited blacks” (MF 1.289), and “carpet-baggers and scalawags” (MF 1.476).

Lovecraft was not alone in his support of Robert E. Lee and the proposed memorial; a Mrs. Bliss also had a letter published in support in the same edition. In the 7 Feb 1909 edition of the Providence Journal, three letters were published that responded to these. While all of them were indirectly addressing Lovecraft’s points, only one, that by Charles F. Janes, named Lovecraft explicitly:

Providence Journal, 7 Feb 1909

Perhaps to give Lovecraft his due, one final letter was published in response, in the 14 Feb 1909 edition:

General Lee and His Lost Cause.

To the editor of the Sunday Journal:

Of the three letters regarding Gen. Robert E. Lee in the Journal of Feb. 7, each seems to present a different amount of condemnation of the great warrior. The article signed “Prescott” appears to be the most unjust, hence demands first attention. In the course of this letter, it is stated that Lee was “lured on by the ambition, not only of becoming victor in the finals, but the Washington of the South.” That Lee was, in intent, and purpose, the “Washington of the South,” cannot be disputed by any intelligent observer, but to aver that the hope of victory and unswerving principle, the object which spurred him on, is most unfair to a man of such a type as Robert E. Lee represents.

The General was not ambitious; he was, instead, of a character unexcelled by that of any other American, save possibly Washington. Had he been less upright, had he possessed less Virginian honor, or had he felt less sincerity of purpose, he would not have remained loyal to his oppressed and troubled State, but would have accepted the tempting offer of Lincoln to command the Union forces in place of Gen. Winfield Scott. His glorious honor is shown by his words to Gen. Hampton in 1869, when he told the noted cavalry leader that he did nothing but his duty in fighting with the Confederacy, and that he would repeat this course if the same conditions existed. His was the truest patriotism, a rigid devotion to the state, which had been forced into battle by its oppressors.

That the United States Government declined to accept the citizenship of Lee after his surrender is a fact which must always throw a shadow on its reputation for justice and fairness, for after the war, the great commander realized his defeat, recognized the union, and said to his men, “Remember that we are one country now. Do not bring up your children in hostility to the Government of the United States. Bring them up to be Americans.” In the face of such a magnanimous sentiment, is it not rather small and petty to suggest, as does the “Prescott” letter, that the erection of a Lee memorial be left ot those on the Virginia side of the Potomac?

The letter of Charles F. Janes makes as its principal point an attempt to prove Gen. Lee a “foe of the country.” Mr. Jane asserts that in telling how the brave military leader “entered into battle against the flag, under which he had once nobly fought.” I admit that he was a “foe of that flag and the country which it represents.” That he was a very reluctant foe of the American flag is a fact, which no one desires to controvert, but that that, or any one cflag, could truly represent the divided country of 1861, is a point which requires thought. A country is, in the last analysis, essentially composed of nothing but its people, and when these become divided into two sections, who shall say which section is actually the true country, even though one retains the old name and flag?

When the war cloud first menaced America, the Southerners desired to retain the Union banner and simply fight for their rights, but as this would have been rebellion, they decided to adopt a more peaceful course, and secede, which they did, without the intention of war. The war was caused by attempts to force the seceded States back, for which there was no constitutional justification. Horace Greeley, himself a Northerner, said: “We hope never to live in a republic whereof one section is pinned to the residue by bayonets.” Southern States were as much as if not more truly American than their Northern neighbors, hence Gen. Lee in fighting with the Confederacy, did not wage war against his country, but fought with one part of it against another part, for a cause which would have benefited both. That his section did not bear the old name, nor carry the old flag was no fault of his, for he and his men were all Americans, seeking their rights from those who would not grant them willingly.

The letter of Bertha G. Higgins contains an inquiry as to where in the United States Constitution will be found an admission of the right of a State to seced from the Union. The answer is, in articles IX. and X. of the amendments. Article IX. reads: “The enumeration in the Cosntitution of certain rights shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained byt he people.[“] The text of article X. is: “The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibtied by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.” As there is nothing prohibitory of secession in the Constitution, these articles may be considered as tacit admissions of the rights of States to withdraw from the federation. They are from the first set of amendments, having been proposed in 1789. Without them , it is doubtful if some of the Southern States would have ratified the Constitution and entered the Union in the first place.

The moral right of secession is a different and more weighty matter than the legal right, but an impartial observer cannot fail to see that it was not without great deliberation, long suffering, and patient waiting that the eleven Confederate States exercised their constitutional prerogative and withdrew from the Union. The provocation was great, far greater than the average Northerner can imagine. It was not one act alone, but a series of persecution that forced the Southern States to a choice between withdrawal and ruin. The excessive tariff whereby the North waxed rich at the expense of the South, coupled with the unfair legislation against slavery, was more than enough to give a moral right to secession, even had no legal right existed.

However, the outcome of the war has proved not only the futility of the Constitution, but the practical permanence of the Union, therefore the people of both sections should now be unanimous in attempting to make the Union one in spirit as well as fact, in attempting to dispel those last drops of bitterness against the Government, which linger in so many Southern minds, and that remaining vestige of Northern prejudice which applaud the Union side of the great civil struggle without more than a superficial glance at its causes, events, and effects. What could accomplish such a unification more than a memorial, erected by a reverent and united people, to Robert Edward Lee, the brave Confederate general, who labored so valiantly to benefit his country by division?

H. P. LOVECRAFT
Providence, Feb. 10.

If that reads like a 19-year-old NEET on social media—that’s pretty much what it is. Lovecraft was not a historian or lawyer, and his spurious arguments are those made by an intelligent but enthusiastic layman who has bought completely into the Lost Cause and has never been seriously challenged on his views. Nor would Lovecraft appear to receive any substantial pushback to his views of the Confederacy, the American Civil War, Reconstruction, or the institution of chattel slavery in the antebellum South during his lifetime.

While the argument over Robert E. Lee seems to have ended there, a third letter to the editor later in 1909 highlights another aspect of a young Lovecraft’s beliefs, one which would have a more lasting impact on his life.

H. P. Lovecraft on The Clansman

The Ku Klux Klan was founded after the American Civil War, as an organization to organize and promote racial violence and opposition to Reconstruction. In response, Congress passed a series of Enforcement Acts, including the Ku Klux Klan Act of 1871, to combat these terror tactics and prosecute the organizers. By the end of Reconstruction, the first incarnation of the KKK was largely suppressed, though other groups like the White League and Red Shirts continued.

This band of terrorists was romanticized by Thomas Dixon, Jr. in his trilogy of novels The Leopard’s Spots: A Romance of the White Man’s Burden—1865–1900 (1902), The Clansman: A Historical Romance of the Ku Klux Klan (1905), and The Traitor: A Story of the Fall of the Invisible Empire (1907). Dixon’s The Clansman became a popular play of the same name (1905), which became a massively successful film titled The Birth of a Nation in 1915—which in turn directly inspired the second incarnation of the Ku Klux Klan.

The Clansman play was not met without controversy; the openly racist nature of the content sparked concerned citizens to protest. In some places, the increased racial tensions contributed to violence, as in the 1906 Atlanta race massacre. In Providence, a petition was raised against the holding of the play.

Providence Journal 8 Sep 1909

The Clansman was performed in Providence, despite the protests of BIPOC citizens. Lovecraft had read the novel, and saw the play (when exactly we don’t know, but quite possibly during Sep 1909). In a letter to the editor of the Providence Journal, Lovecraft wrote about The Clansman. The letter was published in the 26 Sep 1909 edition:

“The Clansman’s Other Side”.

To the Editor of the Sunday Journal:

The action of the Police Commission and the court in permitting the presentation of the Rev. Thomas Dixon, Jr.’s, drama of reconstruction times, “The Clansman,” during the week of Sept. 13, is a hopeful sign, inasmuch as it is indicative of the fact that, despite the protest of the negroes, the truth may be publicly shown and spoken. “Magna est veritas, et praevalebit.” In the North, where only scattered portions of the black race are found, the play no doubt seems exaggerated, and the depths of African racial character portrayed in it seem almost incredible to those accustomed to the relatively superior negroes of the Northern States, but to condemn this drama as some have lately done is unfair.

“The Clansman” teachs us a lesson of which some are sadly in need, namely, tht we must never, under any circumstances, at any time, or in any place, again allow the negro, with his dark ancestry of innumerable centuries of savagery, to become in any way a political power, or to hold any office whatsoever over persons of the superior Aryan race, and that never must the Ethiopian approach the Caucasian on the plane of absolute equality, lest, as is said by “Stoneman” in the play, the noble Anglo-Saxon population of this country degenerate into a puny brood of mulattoes. “Race prejudice” is often condemned, but is it not an essential instinct for the preservation of the purity and distinction of races, an instinct almost as important as that of self-preservation? To “uplift” the blacks in masses to our level is impossible. Ethnology, even more than history, shows us that the African has still far to progress in the upward trend of natural evolution before he can call the Aryan “brother.” To study the negro in his native savage state is enough to disprove the oft-repeated platitude that slavery is the cause of the inferiority of the race in this country.

Another point of error in some denunciations of “The Clansman” regards the mortal status of the Ku Klux Klan. The Klan was illegal, no one desires to controvert that point. But the “law” that it defied was but a travesty on justice, but a ruinous series of revengeful attacks on the decent people of the South by ignorant and malicious “carpet-baggers,” “scalawags,” and blacks. The Ku Klux Klan was composed of the noblest of young Southrons that the land could afford, an organization of Honor, Chivalry, Humanity, Mercy and Patriotism, to protect the weak, innocent and oppressed from unjust “law,” and the more hideous and unspeakable terrors of the black peril. To deny that such a black peril existed, and would exist again if the negroes once more came into power, is prejudiced folly. As a slave, the average negro was happy, contented and peaceable; free, the innate demon comes uppermost, especially if aided by unscrupulous whites who have interests of their own in the matter. To say that “The Clansman” arouses “hate” against the negro is untrue. “Hate” for a race as a race is unthinkable. The black at his normal level is a part of the perfect scheme of nature, harmonious and unobtrusive. “Hate” is due only to those of our own race who seek to disturb nature and raise the African above, or depress him beow his natural place. The black, according to everything that is right, should not be in America. Two distinct races can never peaceably inhabit the same continent, a fact that should have occurred to the slave traders when they unwittingly planted the seeds of African barbarism on the soil of our fair land. But that evil having been done, the only true way to escape from the difficulty would seem to be continued slavery, together with gradual emancipation, and colonization of large numbers of the black in Africa, the land from which they unwittingly came, and where they normally belong. Negro slavery was a poor system of labor, it is true, to exist in a civilized nation, but it was the only system by which the blacks could be held to their place among a superior race. While in individual cases negroes have risen high, it cannot be denied that the race is utterly unfit in the mass to hold power. Negro crime was unknown in slavery, but after a premature emancipation had loosed upon the South an enormous pack of dusky savages, with but a thin veneer of civilization to offset a world-old heredity of barbarism, led by crafty, evil-minded and grasping “white trash,” who directed their ever-changing and childish minds into channels even more ruinous than those which they themselves would have followed if allowed to drint on alone, is it a wonder that the men of the South banded together in order to secure for themselves and their families the protection tha the United States Government refused them? As was written on the title page of the revised prescript of the Klan: “Damn[a]nt qu[o]d non intelligunt.” Therefore, the Aryan who denounces the Ku Klux Klan, and, incidentally, the play which truly shows its noble activity, shows himself to be no very staunch friend of his race, nor of his country.

H. P. LOVECRAFT
Providence, Sept. 21.

From a scientific and historical viewpoint, nearly everything Lovecraft wrote in that letter is incorrect. What Lovecraft got right was when he wrote “Magna est veritas, et praevalebit.”—”Truth is great, and will prevail.”

Although Lovecraft would not live to see the lies of Thomas Dixon, Jr. overturned, Lovecraft would be alive at the birth of the second incarnation of the Ku Klux Klan in 1915, to see its meteoric rise and its tremendous fall from grace. In time, the reactionary, pseudohistorical image of the American Civil War which emphasized States’ rights and de-emphasized the horrors of slavery would diminish. The Civil Rights Movement would push to complete the work begun during Reconstruction, and though great progress has been made, it has not been without decades of perseverance, violence, and setbacks. Racism is still deeply entrenched in U.S. culture.

An editor read this long letter from a 19-year-old Lovecraft and chose to publish it. Perhaps they agreed with him, perhaps they merely wished to cater to “both sides” in the debate over The Clansman play and book. That sort of thing sells papers. We don’t know; we can only look at what Lovecraft wrote, and see what he wrote—in his period away from the world, with few friends, few opportunities, little outlet for his thoughts and emotions, and no one to tell him he was wrong.

What Lovecraft’s letters to the editor in 1909 tell us is not that Lovecraft was racist—we knew that—but what the context was in which his prejudices took shape and found such early expression. An editor could have tossed these letters; they chose to publish them, without comment, because they were topical to issues of the day. These were issues of race and prejudice that were living, ongoing concerns, and perhaps the publication of these letters gave Lovecraft a little boost in the recognition that he had been heard. They certainly did not prepare him for what was to come.

When Lovecraft quoted “Damnant quod non intelligunt.”—”They condemn what they do not understand,” he himself did not understand his own errors and shortcomings. Lovecraft condemned those who protested against The Clansman because he thought he had the facts—as many intelligent but inexperienced 19-year-old men who post on social media do. While it is tempting to say that “this was Lovecraft when he was young, before he wrote any of his mature fiction,” that’s an explanation, not an excuse. Many of the attitudes expressed in these letters would remain with him throughout his adult life, expressed here and there, rarely changing in any substantial degree. Yet not entirely without challenge.

When Lovecraft finally joined amateur journalism, he was confronted with people different from himself, with their own views—intelligent people he could not immediately dismiss, and who were willing to argue with and denounce his views. It is perhaps unsurprising that in his first major public denunciation, “Concerning the Conservative” (1915) by Charles D. Isaacson, Lovecraft’s views on The Clansman—and its new film adaptation, The Birth of a Nation—were at the heart of the conflict with his peers.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

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Deeper Cut: Lovecraftian Newspaper Oddities

Historical Racism

This miscellany includes excerpts from period newspapers, one of which (“Iwo Jima & Innsmouth”) contains historical racism and racist language. As such, please be advised before reading further.


Any tool is also a toy. The only question is whether you’re using it for work or for play. When it comes to online newspaper archives, they are a wonderful tool that has made available a vast amount of minute detail of the past that would otherwise be inaccessible to the average researcher. They are also, however, vast fun if you’re in the right mindset—because newspaper writers are inherently creative, highly literate, hungry for content, and often have a wonderful sense of humor. The result is bits and pieces that are often bizarre or brilliant, though sometimes sober and horrific.

Most of them are effectively noise when considered in terms of “serious” research into Lovecraft’s life, but as a reflection of the growing popularity of Lovecraft and the influence of his work, they stand out as tide water marks: examples of the spread of awareness of Lovecraft and his work. They are sometimes incredibly fun, if only because of how weird they are. I’ve culled out a dozen of the best clippings to showcase the wacky and sometimes fascinating Lovecraftian oddities that have appeared in newspapers over the past century.

Quick links for readers who want to jump to a particular clipping:


The Wood Demon (1930)

Bangor Visitor Tells Odd Yarn Of North Woods

“Are strange stories ever enacted in the North woods? repeated an old-time lumberman from the Ashland district, who has been spending a few weeks in Bangor. “Well, I know one—as weird a yarn as ever was told. If you print it, people will say either that I tried to ‘kid’ you or I should be examined by an alienist; and yet, in my own mind, I believe it true.

“I can’t say from personal experience, for it happened at least 75 years ago. but it’s a tradition among some of the old lumbermen, and it’s been handed down from father to son. Personally, I’m not imaginative, and I don’t believe in any kind of ghosts. I never read Edgar Allen [sic] Poe or Ambrose Bearce [sic] or Harold [sic] Lovecraft. Yet here, as I heard it from many lips, was a tale like Bearce’s [sic] ‘Damned Thing’ and Lovecraft’s ‘Dunwich Horror’ rolled into one.

“Seventy-five years ago, then, in the lumber camps of the great woods and on lonely, outlying farms, hroses and cattle were being slaughtered in considerable numbers. Always it was done in the same way—their throats were ripped open, as though from the teeth of some savage dog or wild animal. And yet gradually, through the countryside, there spread a belief that it was not an animal at all. Tracks sometimes were left near the stables or tie-ups—tracks something like those of a man’s bare foot, and yet were not a man’s. Sometimes a shadowy form, ape-like and hairy, was seen gliding through the darkness—or so imaginative persons said. But the cries of the cattle were real and tangible; and the following morning—for few dared venture out in the dark—always disclosed that the ‘wood demon’, as some called him, had been at his deadly work.

“Finally there arose one who loudly announced he didn’t care for man or devil; he was going to get to the bottom of the mystery, if it was the last thing he did in the world. I don’t recall just what led this man to suppose that, on a certain night, he was due for a visit from the strange marauder. But the story goes that he insisted on staying in the tie-up, and so became the one human witness of the horror that followed.

“The hours passed; nature had never been more placid or calm. And the man was about to return to camp, laughing at himself for having believed in old wives’ tales, when—the thing happened.

“It was a clear night, and a ray of moonlight fell through a hole chopped in the roof that the steam rising from the cattle might escape—a crude but popular system of ventilation in those days. And through this hole, filtering through the moonlight and the shadows, came as strange an object as ever found its way from the Inferno. It was like a huge ape, yet the man swore it was not an ape; it was like a man yet it was not a man; it had hairy, strangely contorted limbs, and cruel teeth that gleamed in the darkness—for the man had put a burlap bag over the lantern he carried.

“It sprang upon the cattle, ripped open their throats, drank of their blood, and disappeared through the roof—as an ape might have done. But, as I have told you, it was not an ape. And the man who had said that he feared nothing in the world just stood there in a corner, a high powered rifle in his hand, too paralyzed by fright to so much as stir. He said afterward that, even had the Thing turned and attacked him, he couldn’t have moved a muscle.

“What was the thing? I don’t know! I never heard how the story ended; but I believe the mystery was never solved. if there is any moral, it is simply that it points the truth of what Hamlet said: ‘There are more things in Heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'”

The Bangor (Maine) Commercial, 25 Feb 1930, p16

One seldom thinks of vampiric sasquatch as having anything to do with H. P. Lovecraft. Yet vampirism of animals is a key plot point of “The Dunwich Horror” Weird Tales (Apr 1929); just as an orangutan formed an essential feature of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” (1841), and an unseen menace is the key to Ambrose Bierce’s “The Damned Thing” (1893). One suspects that the errors in the names of Edgar Allan Poe, Ambrose Bierce, and Howard Phillips Lovecraft are probably intentional, to give an air of rusticity to a tale that is probably fabricated out of whole cloth. No name is given for the author of the piece, and it may have been a friend or friend-of-a-friend of Lovecraft. Whoever it was had at least a modest affection for weird fiction.

A Quote from the Necronomicon (1937)

Abdul Alhazred, the mad Arab of Lovecraft fame, once wrote in the “Necro[no]micon”—”Science and fact, as seen by our little minds, are but dew-spangled cobwebs that catch the light of a tiny candle; and the resulting glitter [b]linds us to the horrible expanse of black doom behind the puny light.

“For that cobweb and that candle are instable as a breath. The breeze can make them tremble, a wind will rend them. And afar, even now, I hear the trampling of a mighty storm.”

The Knob Noster Gem was a small local paper; Dan Saults was the publisher, editor, and probably wrote a good chunk of the daily output. Judging by this little space-filler figment, he was also a Lovecraft fan.

Robin Hood, Bran Mak Morn, and Cthulhu (1937)

Friar Haw Foresees The Twentieth Century

As Robin Hood’s Prophet Might Have Outlined The Ills Of Our Day

by L. W. S., Eaton, O.

Sherwood forest was aflame with the torches of autumn, bringing all of its robust life. Robin Hood and his merry men had cast aside every care and fathered again beneath the mighty brown oaks and beeches. The silver tang of life was in the air and lusty merriness was in the hearts of Robin’s men.

Of course they were spilling great quantities of the favorite cool brown ale down their throats and singing its praises until the song rang and echoed far down the dark rows of mossy tree trunks, as jolly Friat Truck continually banged his tankard on the rough oak table, swinging his head from side to side.


And brawny Little John Arose, flinging the rumble of his deep bass into the depths of Sherwood forest:

So, laugh lads, and quaff lads
‘Twill make you stout and hale,
Thro’ all my days I’ll sing the praise
Of brown October ale.

Really Robin Hood had called his men together for the purpose of hearing once again the strange prophecies of Friar Haw, but he always had to allow them their little fling first, as a prelude. The men had arrived at some degree of respect for the words of Friar Haw, and they usually sat engrossed. Even the snorts of Friar Tuck had grown fewer.

Friar Haw, grim and ascetic, had been taking Robin’s men into the dream-world of the 20th century. Today he had sat oblivious of the roistering men, his face like a white autumn sickle moon. The men could see that he wasn’t going to talk today about streamlined chorus girls and elaborate movies.


He arose. “Few people,” he began, “who shall live in the 20th century shall realize fully the abysmal depths to which the world conflict in the early part of that century shall plunge the races with the blood of long centuries in theri veins. yea, dark forces of life, far more ancient than the ancient oaks of Sherwood, as ancient as the ideas of Chthulhu [sic], Yog Sothoth, Gol-goroth and the blood of the Gaelic, Cymric and Teutonic. The king of the Dark Empire of the Stone Age, covered so long by the imposition of a new god called Reason, shall break loose again in the emotional abandon of those dark years of 1914-18, and shall continue long afterwards.

“The surface of the collective civilized mind shall be torn adunder and the long-buried emotional elements of the days of a Bran Mak Morn shall break loose, and the 20th century would shall be puzzled and at a loss to understand what forces are driving men.”

“And,” interposed Little John, who had a common sense kind of mind, “what are you driving at, or trying to say? It sounds crazy to me.”

“Oh, doubtless!” said Friar Haw, his sickle face growing a shade colder. “Yet the original minds of the 20th century shall see that strange things are happening. Now, in the country called Germany, age-old psychic forces break loose again. Wotan, who is half rage and frenzy and half seer who understands ‘the runs and interprets destiny.’ Wotan shall be personified in a man named Hitler, a strange figure whose reasoning shall be guided by very, very ancient emotional forces.

“You are to remember that men taken collectively in a nation are not dominated by reason. A wise man of that century shall say: ‘Where the mass rather than the individual is in motion, human control ceases. And at at that point the archetypes begin to operate.'”

“In Germany the stormy personality of Wotan shall come to life again in the youth movement. The waking will be celebrated with the slaughter of more than one sheep. Aye, men called Nietszsche, Schuler, Stephen George and Klages shall anticipate the waking, as shall one called Richard Wagner put it into his music.

“But I have taken only Germany as one example in the Old World, where the 20th century shall see the troubled awakening on every hand of the most ancient archetypes, the most powerful emotional forces. Frightened men shall shout ‘Peace! Peace!’ where there shall be no peace. men shall come to understand somewhat the things that Wotan whispered through Mimir’s head. mean shall come to appreciate what Valhalla means, and the Valkyries and the Fylgjur.”


Whereupon Robin Hood jumped to his feet and shouted: “Engouh for today! I’d rather go and rob a bishop. This chatter makes me uneasy inside.”

“Yes,” came from the sickle autumn moon face of the prophet, “it is a far cry from your simple Sherwood forest and your October ale drinking. yet it shall be the sap in the roots of your Sherwood conflicted with a conflict of world cultures.”

Dayton (Ohio) Daily News, 14 Nov 1937, p13

This is fanfiction. Yet L.W.S. (Leonard W. Sharkey) of Eaton, Ohio must have been a serious fan indeed, to weave references to Lovecraft (Cthulhu, Yog-Sothoth) and Robert E. Howard (Gol-goroth, Bran Mak Morn) into his narrative of Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest, on the run-up to World War II. A likely inspiration for these references is “The Children of the Night” (Weird Tales Apr-May 1931) by Robert E. Howard—which is probably the only story at the time that mentions Cthulhu, Yog-Sothoth, Gol-goroth, and Bran Mak Morn all in the same tale. Sharkey did at least one more Robin Hood/Friar Haw tale, albeit without Mythos references (The Camp of Robin Takes A Forward Look).

Lovecraft & Whippoorwills (1945)

Whip-poor-wills will remind some readers of the stories of the late H. P. Lovecraft.

You never heard of Lovecraft?

Many persons have not, but they will, in time, and all through the affectionate remembrance of two young men in Wisconsin.

They founded a press to put his stories sold to pulp magazines into book form. Extremely limited editions have made these books collectors’ items.

Lovecraft’s tales are somewhat Poe-like in character. They are laid in New England, and bring in visitors from “the outside,” strange beings always ready to push into our own known world.

Some of the stories incorporate the whip-poor-wills, which set up a constant cry, according to legend, every time one died.

If they missed getting his soul, they screamed unusually loudly, and then died out. In this way it was possible to tell what happened to the departing soul.

Evening Star (Washington, D.C.), 7 Apr 1945, p6

In 1939, August Derleth and Donald Wandrei founded Arkham House in Wisconsin to publish the work of H. P. Lovecraft in book form. It was a beginning to establish Lovecraft’s literary legacy, and awareness of the Providence-born horror writer was slowly trickling out into public awareness, although this was slow going, and involved many misunderstandings.

Whippoorwills are a key example. They only feature in one of Lovecraft’s stories, “The Dunwich Horror”; but the idea seems to have appealed to August Derleth, who incorporated the idea of the whippoorwill as psychopomp in several Cthulhu Mythos stories, notably the novel The Lurker at the Threshold (1945). Derleth’s repetition of the idea—and articles like this one—contributed to the spread of certain basic conceptions (and misconceptions) of what Lovecraft wrote.

Iwo Jima & Innsmouth (1945)

Journalettes
by Charles B. Gordon

Friday, this newspaper used a cut of three Japanese prisoners, taken on Iwo Jima, and their American guards. The three Japs were three of the most repulsive looking human beings whose faces we have ever gazed upon.

. . . — V . . . —

We think he’s dead now, but some years ago, there was a writer named H. P. Lovecraft. This voracious reader made acquaintence with his works through the current 25-cent pocket books, but it is our belief that most of his output was printed first in pulp “horror” magazines. At any rate, he was the greatest master of the “horror[“] story specializing in stories about beings, things, or whatever you might want to call them, which emerged from places under the earth, under the water, or from ages thousands of years past, but were generally possessed of at least a few human qualities, enabling them to “get by” on the earth of the present day.

. . . — V . . . —

The pictures of those Japs taken on Iwo Jima gave us for the first itme a partial realization of what the creatures of such books of Lovecraft’s as “Weird Shadow Over Innsmouth” and “The Dunwich Horror” must have resembled.

McComb (Mississippi) Daily Journal, 19 Mar 1945, p1

War doesn’t just breed prejudice, it encourages its expression. The enemy is described in terms that downplays or denies their humanity. As things instead of people. The bloody battle of Iwo Jima ran 19 February–26 March 1945. Casualties were horrific, especially on the Japanese side; of 20,933 troops, only 216 Japanese were taken prisoner from the main battle, with an additional 867 taken prisoner post-battle. A photo of three such prisoners was made available to the press—men who, like their counterparts in the US military, had served their country, be it right or wrong, and lived through a terrible and terrifying conflict.

The racist depiction of Japanese military and civilians was sadly common—though as far as I have found, this is the first and only instance where they were compared directly to Lovecraft’s Innsmouth folk during the conflict.

Paper shortages during World War II put a severe crimp in the publishing plans of Arkham House, but also opened up other opportunities. Bartholomew House was a small New York publisher that put out two cheap (25 cents) paperback editions of Lovecraft with the permission of Arkham House: The Weird Shadow over Innsmouth (1944) and The Dunwich Horror (1945). Another cheap paperback readily available to the military was the Armed Services Edition of The Dunwich Horror and Others (n.d., 1945?). These books helped spread the word of Lovecraft during the war years—and beyond.

Lovecraft & Hitler (1945)

Two pieces appeared in the Chicago Tribune in April 1945 which tied Lovecraft to the ongoing world war.

Werewolf Hunt

The werewolf myth, which the frenzied and frightened Nazis threaten to revive as a romantic disguise for a post-war assassination cult, has haunted hte lower levels of the human mind since the era of the cavemen. Its roots are in primitive cannibalism. The word means man-wolf; that is, a betwitched creature which has human form by day and lupine hide, teeth, and appetite by night. The superstition is one of the unwholesome ideas that have survived from pre-history among European peasants to provide material for folklorists and themes for authors who have a bent toward the weird, grotesque, and horrible.

* * *

Hitler, whose career has a werewolfish flavor, comes froma stock in which this notion was likely to breed and influence character. We quote from his best and msot objective biographer, Konrad Heiden, who says in “Der Fuehrer” while discussing his pedigree:

“The Waldviertel in lower Austria, from which both the Hitler and Pölzl families came, is a gloomy, remote, impverished section; like many such regions it has no lack of superstitions and ghost stories. The ancestors were mostly poor peasant people; ‘small cottager’ often stands in the church records.”

* * *

The myth is closely related to the vampire bugaboo, and, therefore, in the novel called “Dracula,” a veritable case book of vampirism, you will find werewolves as auxiliary phantoms. The anthologies of terror stories which ahve become quite an article of commerce in the war time book trade contain numerous examples of werewolf tales. We expect to find out in “Best Supernatural Stories of H. P. Lovecraft,” edited by August Derleth and new on the counters.

* * *

To kill a werewolf according to the folklore formula, yo umust use a gun that has been blessed at a shrine of St. Hubert and fire a silver bullet.

Chicago Tribune, 9 Apr 1945, p12

In this, the unnamed newspaper writer would be disappointed. Vampires and werewolves were not Lovecraft’s normal schtick. However, we know that they did read the new collection—and the horrors in those pages probably compared to those that came in over the news wire. U.S. forces liberated the Buchenwald concentration camp on 11 Apr 1945.

Powers of Darkness

The lifting of the curtain on the massive horrors of Germany’s prison and concentration camps recalls the supernatural tales of H. P. Lovecraft, a writer who was relatively unknown until August Derleth undertook his popularization. To conjure up the mood of unearthly terrors, Lovecraft invented the mythology of Cthulhu in which there are many monstrous spirits of evil, forever seeking to take possession of this planet.

* * *

Lovecraft wrote of his work: “All my stories, unconnected as they may be, are based on the fundamental lore or legend that this world was inahbited at one time by another race hwo, in practicing black magic, lost their foothold and were expelled, yet live on outside, ever ready to take possession of this earth again.”

* * *

Perhaps Cthulhu has come back, thru the cracks in Hitler’s mind. Lovecraft, who died in 1937, would be staggered by the revelation.

* * *

During his lifetime, Lovecraft’s work appeared in pulp paer magazines, chiefly in Weird Tales. Arkham House of Sauk City, Wis., a publishing enterprise over which August Derleth presides, has been assembling this scattered material and putting it between covers in limited editions. A collection of 14 tales, regarded as the best of Lovecraft’s 50-odd, was recently issued by the World Publishing company. Derleth, its editor, says in his introduction:

“The weird tradition was particularly his. In the scarcely two decades of his writng life he became a master of the macabre who had neither peer nor equal in America. . . . It has been said of ‘The Outsider’ that if the manuscript had been put forward as an unpublished tale by Edgar Allan Poe, none would have challenged it.”
Chicago Tribune, 27 Apr 1945, p14

Lovecraft never wrote that “black magic” quote. The unnamed author of this little piece is drawing on The Best Supernatural Stories of H. P. Lovecraft (1945). To place Lovecraft’s horrors with those of Nazi Germany is understandable, journalists must have grasped for any straw of comparison. Three days after this was published, Adolf Hitler committed suicide.

Unlike many of these small newspaper pieces, another journalist picked up on this thread and glossed it in another paper:

Powers of Darkness

The lifting of the curtain on the massive horrors of Germany’s prison and concentration camps recalls the supernatural tales of H. P. Lovecraft, a writer who was relatively unknown until August Derleth undertook his popularization, says a Chicago Tribune column. To conjure up the mood of unearthly terrors, Lovecraft invented the mythology of Cthulhu in which there are many monstrous spirits of evil, forever seeking to take possession of this planet.

Lovecraft wrote of his work: “All my stories, unconnected as they may be, are based on teh fundamental lore or legend that this race [sic] was inhabited at one time by another race who, in practicing black magic, lost their foothold and were expelled, yet live on outside, ever ready to take possession of this earth again.”

Perhaps Othulhu [sic] has come back through the cracks in Hitler’s mind. Lovecraft, who died in 1937, would be staggered by the revelation.

The Windsor (Ontario) Star, 2 May 1945, p4

It is like a telephone game, as Derleth’s jumbled quote gets increasingly jumbled with every step. Yet the tying-together of Lovecraft and Hitler in this instance shows how relevant Lovecraft’s fiction could be, how plastic and adaptable his work was to a new syntax—and how new editions helped spread knowledge of Lovecraft and the Mythos to new audiences.

Lovecraft’s Men From Pluto (1955)

Space Travel

Friday Dr. Wernher von Braun, an expert in the field of astrophysical and astronomical lore, spoke at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute. he talked chiefly of efforts being made to study the areas beyond the earth’s atmosphere. he talked of artificial satellites and of space travel, topics which tickle the imagination of young and old alike in these days of scientific discussion.

Dr. von Braun asserted that there was no doubt of the capacity of man to leave earth, point toward the moon, circle it and return to earth again. As one who is an expert in the designing of rocket propellants and in all the developments in this sphere he speaks with authority. He insists that we know enough now to launch a space ship and be reasonably sure of its safe voyage moonward and its return.

To the layman all this is fantasy. How can man survive in the intense heat which must exist beyond the atmosphere? How can direction be assured where there is no air friction against which rudders can press when a craft is to be turned? We have to ahve water to direct a ship, air to direct a plane. What possiblity of management exists in the ether where every object runs free?

And to make such a voyage the start must be swift. Through the great spaces where there is no atmosphere presumably the speed would not generate sufficient heat to decompose the ship. But what about the start and the finish? How can the ship begin its flight without at least a speed of 5,000 miles an hour? And how can it be toned down to reason when it returns to the lst hundred miles of its voyage?

We are still skeptics on the whole matter. Those who say such a trip to the moon is possible are the delight of the small boy and the radical scientist. but to the down-to-earth citizen, accustomed to keep his feet on the ground or rise only moderately above it, the natural comment is a Bronx cheer. If such a voyage is possible today, as Dr. von Braun asserts, let’s get at it and stop expending our energies in talk.

The usual reply from the space scientists to such suggests is that the cost is tremendous and there is no source for the funds. That is a complete answer, the best in the world if discussion is preferable to achievement. We have heard people say you could abolish certain diseases in the world if had ten or fifteen billions to spend on them. We have noted those who think permanent peace could be achieved by the careful expenditure of a few hundred billions. The poist that there isn’t any such money so it is easy to talk about it.

If a space ship would cost a few billions there can be no space ship. it would not be worth the price. The scientists, instead of telling us such a craft is possible today, might better expend their time and energy in seeking ways of bringing their creations down to the possible range of expenditure. Otherwise space travel lies in the same domain as the weird tales of Jules Verne, Lovecraft’s story of the men from Pluto who visited earth or Wells’ novel about the coming of the Martians.

The Troy (New York) Record, 5 Dec 1955, p10

The Luna 3, the first spacecraft to manage a successful circumlunar trajectory, did so in 1959; the first manned trip in lunar orbit, however, was Apollo 8 in 1968. It turned out, probably much to the anonymous author’s chagrin, that there actually were billions of dollars to spend on the space race.

The reference to “Lovecraft’s story of the men from Pluto” is a bit bizarre; as near as I can tell this has to be a reference to “The Whisperer in Darkness” (Weird Tales Aug 1931), which featured the Fungi from Yuggoth. Who were about as far from the stereotypical 1950s humanoid aliens as one might imagine—but this is a good example of a typical misreading or misunderstanding. I wonder how many science fiction fans wondered where they could read about Lovecraft’s men from Pluto?

Apocryphal Alhazred (1960)

Man has a back, and if you beat it he works. (Alhazred Bhati Khan, 11th century despot of Samarkand).

The labor policies of Alhazred Khan are frowned upon in the more enlightened areas of the world today. But if his theories on back-beating have fallen in esteem, his basic goal of increasing production has never been held in higher regard.

The actual title of the piece was “Bosses ‘Whip’ Workers With Musical Gimmicks,” and it was about how employers use new psychological tools to manipulate the workplace and motivate their employees. However, the author Ted Smart apparently thought it needed a hook, and so created Alhazred Bhati Khan—who never existed—presumably by combining Lovecraft’s Alhazred, the Hindu word bhati (भाटी), and the Turkic or Mongolian title khan. Samarkand was a reality, however, and if anybody ever checked to see who was ruling it in the 11th century, they did more work than Ted Smart did. I have to wonder if any Lovecraft fans noticed.

Aside from the appearance in the Chicago Daily Herald, the article also appeared in the Arlington Heights (Illinois) Herald, 21 Jan 1960, p27, and possibly ran in other local papers in Illinois.

A Lovecraftian Cipher (1968)

Cipher puzzles are fairly common amusements in newspapers, and have been for decades. As an exercise, they’re fairly simple substitution ciphers: each letter of the alphabet is replaced by another letter, to render what appears on the surface is gibberish. However, the relationship between the letters remains; and there are only 26 letters in the alphabet. Figure out a word or two, either by frequency analysis or trial and error, and the rest of the cipher alphabet falls in place pretty easily. In this case, the puzzle designer has been a little clever: one word has been encoded as the English word FRIGHT, which gives a hint to the solution of the puzzle.

The answer, on the other hand, is a bit of a cheat:

The answer is a cheat because this isn’t a real Lovecraft quote, but a highly abridged version of a line from Lovecraft’s “Supernatural Horror in Literature”:

Children will always be afraid of the dark, and men with minds sensitive to hereditary impulse will always tremble at the thought of the hidden and fathomless worlds of strange life which may pulsate in the gulfs beyond the stars, or press hideously upon our own globe in unholy dimensions which only the dead and the moonstruck can glimpse.

The reason why the full quote isn’t used is pretty obvious: space. While not intellectually any more challenger than the briefer text to decipher, 59 words is a lot more daunting in terms of sheer volume of words to be deciphered. On the plus side, at least Lovecraft wasn’t reminding the readers of the San Francisco Examiner to drink their Ovaltine.

Necronomicon For Sale (1972)

Tucked in at the end of a column of classifieds ads, just above a threat from the Mafia against a fratboy, this is one of a number of ads for a copy of the Necronomicon for sale that have cropped up here and there. Such hoaxes are classics of fan-activity, and vary from carefully-constructed and believable to error-ridden and silly. This one is fairly restrained and detailed, and the writer probably was familiar with Lovecraft’s “History of the Necronomicon,” which had been most recently republished in The Necronomicon: A Study (1967).

Such ads seem to have become rare after the first widely-available commercial Necronomicons began to hit the market in the 1970s.

Old Ben Lovecraft (1978)

Mulligan’s Stew
by Hugh A. Mulligan
AP Special Correspondent

RIDGEFIELD, Conn. (AP)—My old aunt used to say you never really know who your neighbors are until one day you read about them in the paper being appointed to the White House transportation staff or taken off in the patrol wagon for wife-beating or graduating with high honors from welding school.

And, by George, she was right.

This town, for instance, is chock full of interesting people, what you might call real characters just waiting to be discovered by some sharp-eyed reporter or a playwright in search of a sequel to “Our Town.”

Over on Ludlow Hill there’s a man who never in all his born days has seen a flying saucer. Old Ben Lovecraft has lived in these rocky, rolling hills of Connecticut for nigh onto half a century, since moving up from the Bronx, without catching so much as a glimmer of an outer world touchdown on his two acre zoned spread there behind the town dump.

The other night he thought he saw an eerie light reflecting from an elliptical shaped object in his driveway that wasn’t there when he took in the cat and turned off the carriage lamps. he put on his new Christmas cardigan, grabbed a flash light from the hall closet and made his way stealthily along the hedges bordering the garage. he could hear chattering and the sound of equipment being unloaded.

There in the moonlight, he saw five tiny creatures no bigger than a breadbox with enormous shiny eyes filing out of an aluminum cylinder. They fled in panic the instant his beam hit them.

“You know how racoons scamper after they’ve tipped over a garbage can to get at a turkey carcass,” Ben drawled in his matter of fact way. “I called the Air Force and they didn’t want to hear about it. They already had four people on hold with positive sightings.”

Fascinating fellow, Ben. A real skeptic. He’s seen “Star Wars” twice and “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” three times and doesn’t believe a word of either of them. […]

The Orange (Texas) Leader, 8 Mar 1978, p7

At the time of this writing, there are 91 hits for “Old Ben Lovecraft” on newspapers.com. The Associated Press spread the “Mulligan’s Stew” humor column far and wide. While some of the other bits and pieces mentioned above are diamonds in the rough, this is closer to what constitutes noise in search results. Half the country might have read about “Old Ben Lovecraft” between March and April 1978, when the article ran. Perhaps a few had a chuckle; the flying saucer craze of the 50s had given birth to the impressive big box-office sci fi spectacles of Star Wars (1977) and Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977). No doubt a lot of the country had no idea why some folks got so excited.

Why Lovecraft? I suspect it was simply because Lovecraft was still known as a science fiction writer, and the “Old Ben” part was borrowed from “Old Ben” Kenobi in Star Wars. It’s also possible that the author simply wanted a distinctive name and typed out the first that came to mind; certainly a fan would probably have added a reference to Cthulhu in there at some point.

Lovecraft, C. M. Eddy, Jr., and Dark Swamp (1995)

What happened that night in the swamp?

Editors: I am in my 75th year of life as I write this, and I do not wish to allow a few things to pass unnoticed before I go. My mother, Muriel Eddy, was a gifted author; for several years she was the poet laureate of Rhode Island, the state in which we lived.

My father was also an author—of uncanny horror stories. he had a buddie named H. P. Lovecraft, the famous author of many books about strange things.

Lovecraft was a night person, and back in 1922 and 1923 he and my father would often walk through Providence’s Chinatown at midnight. One night they decided to go into the woods of the “great swamp” of Chepatchet, R.I., because they had heard that “It” (a ghost or monster) had been seen there.

Nobody knows whether or not they encounted the “It” being; they did survive their night in the great swamp, but neither would talk about it. I wonder to this day what they saw.

Clifford Eddy
Macon

The Macon (Georgia) Telepgraph, 10 Jan 1995, p5

Clifford Myron Eddy (1918-2003) was the only son of Clifford Martin Eddy, Jr. and Muriel Elizabeth Eddy. He was about 3-5 years old when H. P. Lovecraft came to the Eddys’ house, located a few miles away from his own in Providence, R.I. Too young, probably, to have much in the way of direct memories of Lovecraft, though no doubt he heard and read his mother’s and father’s stories, in works like The Gentleman from Angell Street (2001) by Muriel E. Eddy & C. M. Eddy Jr. and “Message in Stone” (1956) by Muriel E. Eddy.

Perhaps that telephone-game is why his facts are slightly garbled. For while Lovecraft and C. M. Eddy, Jr. did certainly survive the Dark Swamp in Chepatchet, they weren’t exactly silent about it. We have first-hand accounts from Lovecraft’s letters, a memoir by C. M. Eddy, Jr., and memoirs from Muriel E. Eddy, who would have had the facts from her husband. Unfortunately, the accounts do not all agree.

Lovecraft’s Version
In four letters written c. Oct-Dec 1923, Lovecraft mentions Eddy and Dark Swamp. These are the only accounts that were published at the time of the trip, and Lovecraft goes into some considerable detail.

I find Eddy rather a delight—I wish I had known him before. Next Sunday we are going on a trip which may bring you echoes in the form of horror-tales from both participants. In the northwestern part of Rhode Island there is a remote village called Chepachet, reached by a single car line with only a few cars a day. Last week Eddy was there for the first time, and at the post office overheard a conversation between two ancient rustic farmers which inspired our coming expedition. They were discussing hunting prospects, and spoke of the migration of all the rabbits and squirrels across the line into Connecticut; when one told the other that there were plenty left in the Dark Swamp. Then ensued a description to which Eddy listened with the utmost avidity, and which brought out the fact that in this, the smallest and most densely populated state of the Union, there exists a tract of 160 acres which has never been fully penetrated by any living man. It lies two miles from Chepachet—in a direction we do not now know, but which we will ascertain Sunday—and is reputed to be the home of very strange animals—strange at least to this part of the world, and including the dreaded “bobcat”, whose half-human cries in the night are often heard by neighbouring farmers. The reason it has never been fully penetrated is that there are many treacherous potholes, and that the archaic trees grow so thickly together that passage is well-nigh impossible. The undergrowth is very thick, and even at midday the darkness is very deep because of the intertwined branches overhead. the description so impressed Eddy that he began writing a story about it—provisionally entitled “Black Noon”—on the trolley ride home. And now we are both to see it . . . we are both to go into that swamp . . . and perhaps come out of it. Probably the thing’ll turn out to be a clump of ill-nourished bushes, a few rain-puddles, and a couple of sparrows—but until our disillusion we are at liberty to think of the place as the immemorial lair of nightmare and unknown evil ruled by that subterraneous horror that sometimes cranes its neck out of the deepest pot-holes . . . It.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Edwin Baird, c. Oct 1923, Letters to Hyman Bradofsky & Others 45

Lovecraft’s letters to Baird was published in Weird Tales (Mar 1924), and forms the first account in print.

My next trip, on which I had as a companion my new adopted son Clifford Martin Eddy, Jr., was on Sunday, Novr. 4; and led thro’ much the same territory as did my trip of Septr. 19 with out amiable confrere Mortonius. It was a quest of the grotesque and the terrible—a search for Dark Swamp, in northwestern Rhode-Island, of which Eddy had heard sinister whispers amongst the rusticks. They whisper that it tis very remote and very strange, and that no one has ever been completely thor’ it because of the treacherous and unfathomable potholes, and the antient trees whose thick boles grow so closelytogether that passage is difficult and darkness omnipresent even at noon, and other things, of which bobcats—whose half-human howls are heard in the night by peasants near the edge—are the very least. It is a peculiar place, and no house was ever built within two miles of it. the rural swains refer to it with much evasiveness, and not one of them can be induc’d to guide a traveller through it’ altho’ a few intrepid hunters and woodcutters have plied their vocations on its fringes. It lies in a natural bowl surrounded by low ranges of beautiful hills; far from any frequented road, and known to scarce a dozen persons outside the immediate country. Even in Chepachet, the nearest village, there are but two men who ever heard of it. Eddy discover’d its rumour at the Chepachet post office one bleak autumn evening when huntsmen gather’d about the fire and told tales and express wonder why all the squirrels and rabbits had left the hills and fled across the plain into Connecticut. One very antient man with a flintlock said that IT had mov’d in Dark Swamp, and had cran’d ITS neck out of the abysmal pothole beneath which IT has ITS immemorial Lair. And he said his grandfather had told him in 1849, when he was a very little boy, that IT had been there when the first settlers came; and that the Indians believed IT had always been there. This antient man with the flintlock was the only one present who had ever heard of Dark Swamp.

So on that Sunday my son and I took the stage for Chapachet, and in due time alighted before the tavern. In the tap-room they had never heard of Dark Swamp, but the landlord told us to ask the Town Clerk, two houses down the road beyond the White Church, who knows everything in the parish Upon knocking at this gentleman’s pillar’d colonial house, we were greeted by the genial owner him self; a prefect rural magnate and Knight of the Shire, than whom Sir Roger himself cou’d not be more oddly humoursome. he told us, that the Dark Swamp had a very queer reputation, and that men had gone in who never came out; but confest he knew little of it, and had never been near it. At his suggestion we went across the road to the cottage of a very intelligent yeoman nam’d Sprague, whom he reported to have guided a party of gentlemen from Brown-University thro parts of the swamp in quest of botanick specimens, some twelve years gone. Sprague dwells in a trim colonial cottage with pleasing doorway and good interior mantels and panelling;a ND tho’ it turn’d out that ’twas not he who guided the gentlemen, he prov’d uncommon genial and drew us a map by which we might reach the house of Fred Barnes, who did guide them […] After a long walk over the same highroad travers’d by Mortonius and me, we came to Goodman Barnes’ place; and found him after waiting Al of thirty-five minutes in his squalid kitchen. When he did arrive, he had not much to say; but told us to find ‘Squire James Reynolds, who dwells at the fork of the back road beyond the great reservoir, south the the turnpike. Again in motion, we stopt not till we came to [Cady’s] Tavern, built in 1683 […] The tavern lyes on the main Putnam Pike; but shortly after quitting it and passing the reservoir we turn’d south into the backwoods, coming in proper season to Squire Reynolds’ estate. We found the gentleman in his yard; a man well on in years, and having a very market rural speech which we had thought extinct save in stage plays. he told us, we had better take the right fork of the road, over the hills to Ernest Law’s farm; declaring, that Mr. Law owns Dark Swamp, and that it was his son who had cut wood at the edge of it. Following the Squire’s directions, we ascended a narrow rutted road betwixt picturesque woods and stone walls; coming at last to a crest […] We found Mr. Law […] He inform’d us, that Dark Swamp lyes in the distant bowl betwixt two of the hills we saw; and that ’tis two miles from his house to the nearest part of it, by a winding road and a cart0path. He said, the peasants have a little exaggerated its fearful singularities, tho’ it is yet a very odd place, and I’ll to visit by night. We thanked him greatly for the civilities he had shewn us, and having complimented him on the fine location of his seat, set out to return to town with the information we shall use upon our next trip.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Frank Belknap Long, Jr., 8 Nov 1923, Selected Letters 1.264-267

[…] setting a time and place of next meeting December 2nd, 6:45 a.m., west facade of the Federal Building—whence leaves the coach for Chepachet and the Dark Swamp.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Maurice W. Moe, 24 Nov 1923, Letters to Maurice W. Moe 137

We were on a still hunt for the grotesque & the terrible—the ghoulish & the macabre—in the form of a hideous locality which Eddy had heard certain rusticks whispering about . . . . . Dark Swamp. The peasants had mutter’d that it is very remote & very strange, & that no one hath ever been completely across it because of the treacherous & fathomless potholes, & the ancient trees whose thick boles grow so closely together that passage is difficult & darkness omnipresent even at noon, & other things, of which bobcats—whose half-human cries are heard in the night by cotters near the edge—are the very least. It is a very peculiar place, & no house was ever built within two miles of it. The rural swains refer to it with much evasiveness, & not one of them can be induc’d to guide a traveller thro’ it. It lies near where we were lost south of the pike—there & westerward—& probably brushes the foot of Old Durf himself. Very few know . . . . or admit they know . . . . of it. Eddy discover’d its rumour at the tavern in Chepachet one bleak autumn evening when huntsmen gather’d about the fire & told tales. One very ancient man said that IT dwells in the swamp . . . . & that IT was alive even before the white man came.

Well, anyway, we took the nine-twenty-five for Chepachet on Nov. 4, & wasted all the noon period getting shunted from one villager to another for directions. One bimbo—a bearded chap named Sprague, who lives in a colonial house—was especially valuable, & gave some extra tips on Durf. […] The last Swain we were directed to was Ernest Law, who owns Dark Swamp, & who was reached by a rutted road that climbs upward betwixt woods & stone walls. […] He told us how to reach Dark Swamp, & inform’d us it is a very odd place, tho’ the peasantry have a little exaggerated its fearful singularities. We thank’d him for the civilities he shew’d us, & having congratulated him on the fine location of his seat, set out to return to town with the information we shall use upon our next trip. […]
—H. P. Lovecraft to James F. Morton, 5 Dec 1923, Letters to James F. Morton 58-59

“Durf” in this case is Durfee Hill, the second-highest point in Rhode Island, located near Chapechet. On 19 September 1923, Lovecraft and James F. Morton had gone to Chapechet to climb the hill, as detailed in a letter to Frank Belknap Long, Jr. (Selected Letters 1.250), which makes no mention of Dark Swamp. According to Lovecraft, C. M. Eddy, Jr. heard about Dark Swamp in Autumn (say, October), they went there on 4 November 1923, but couldn’t find it, though they got directions to find it next time, made plans for such a trip in December—and ultimately never returned to Chepachet.

One unanswered question is what Eddy was doing in the Chepachet post office to overhear these rumors of Dark Swamp. We know Lovecraft was in Chepachet in September, but why would Eddy be there? Stephen Olbrys Gencarella in “Lovecraft and the Folklore of Glocester’s Dark Swamp” (Lovecraft Annual #16) notes several other discrepancies in Lovecraft’s account that suggest that whatever the original story, HPL elaborated the tale with subsequent telling.

Ken Faig, Jr. in “Searching for Dark Swamp” in Lovecraftian Voyages, traced through old maps and records and confirmed much of the geography and named personages that Lovecraft mentions in his letters regarding the search for Dark Swamp, which he believes is currently inundated and forms the northern part of the Ponaganset Reservoir.

C. M. Eddy, Jr.’s Version
In 1966, Eddy’s brief memoir “Walks With Lovecraft” was published in The Dark Brotherhood by Arkham House. Near the end of the memoir, Eddy recalled the trip to Chapachet:

One other jaunt with Lovecraft is retained rather vividly in memory, for all that it was in a way a frustrating one. It was a trip made into the country in August 1923, in search of a blighted area called the “Dark Swamp”—a place of such stygian darkness that the sun reputedly never shone there, never penetrated its fastnesses, even at high noon. Lovecraft had no very clear idea of its setting, but had been told that it was located off the Putnam Pike, about halfway between Chepachet, Rhode Island, and Putnam, Connecticut.

The day we set out was blisteringly hot; though we took the first trolley in the morning to the end of the line in Chepachet, it was already very warm at that hour. In Chepachet, we started out on foot on the road toward Putnam. The heat increased as the day wore on. We had brought sandwiches with us, and from time to time we stopped at farmhouses along the way for water and to inquire about Dark Swamp. But no one seemed to have heard of it, and after four miles, Lovecraft, considerably wilted by the heat, decided reluctantly that we would have to give up the quest. So we found some reasonably comfortable stones at the side of the road and sat there until one of the Putnam-Providence cars stopped for us and put an end to our search. We never afterward took it up again, though, despite the discomfort of the summer day, it was as rewarding as any walk with Lovecraft, in that he found many of the old farm buildings fascinating and conveyed that fascination to me.
—C. M. Eddy, Jr., “Walks With Lovecraft” (1966)
in The Gentleman from Angell Street 49-50

The most immediate discrepancy between the two accounts is that while Lovecraft places the search for Dark Swamp in early November 1923, Eddy places it in August. The comments about the heat make sense if it were a summer hike, but in the autumn?. Lovecraft doesn’t mention the heat in his own accounts, but did allow that he was “monstrous weary, and cou’d scarce stand” at the end of the hike (SL1.267), which would jive with Eddy’s account (though Lovecraft avers that they hiked 17 miles around Chepachet, not 4 miles).

Granted that Eddy was remembering back ~43 years, so some details could be hazy; Lovecraft mentions they were walking about noon, and if it was an All-Saints summer, perhaps that might account for Eddy’s memory of summer heat. More odd is that Eddy makes no mention that he was the originator of the search; by his account, it was Lovecraft that had been told about the swamp, rather than Eddy who told Lovecraft about it. However, we know Lovecraft had been in Chapechet before; perhaps it was Lovecraft who heard of Dark Swamp when he went to Chepachet with Morton, and later asked Eddy to go with him to find it.

Muriel E. Eddy’s Version
There are three versions of the story in Muriel Eddy’s memoirs of Lovecraft, two published before C. M. Eddy’s 1966 memoir and one after. All versions agree largely with each other, and more with C. M. Eddy’s version than with Lovecraft’s—this makes sense given that all of Muriel’s information probably came from her husband or memories of what Lovecraft mentioned about the trip. Though Selected Letters 1, with Lovecraft’s lengthy account of the trip to Long, was published in 1965, the Eddys do not seem to have referred to it.

It was during the hot summer months that Lovecraft expressed the desire to have Mr. Eddy accompany him on a quest to find a so-called “Black Swamp” somewhere, it was said, in the wilds of Chepachet, R.I.—a swamp so overhung with trees that no sunlight ever penetrated it. Always on the lookout for oddities of nature, the idea of seeing such a swamp intrigued Lovecraft to such an extent that he took the whole day off, leaving his writings, as eager as any schoolboy to witness nature’s phenomenon. The whereabouts of that swamp—if such a swamp truly exists—is still a msytery—at least, it was never located, and Mr. Eddy almost had to carry Lovecraft back from the rural excursion, at least a mile, to the trolley line, for, unaccustomed to such vigorous jaunts at that time, the writer of tales macabre soon became so exhausted he could hardly move one foot after the other. It was a great disappointment to Lovecraft that the trip was failure, as far as finding the swamp was concerned; but the rural characteristics of the village delighted him, and found place, I am sure, in many of his later stories.
—Muriel E. Eddy, “Howard Phillips Lovecraft” in Rhode Island on Lovecraft (1945) 18

It was during the summer of 1923 that Lovecraft expressed the desire to have Mr. Eddy accompany him on a quest to find a so-called “Black Swamp” somewhere near the small village of Chepachet, Rhode Island. It was said to be a swamp so overhung by trees that sunshine never penetrated it.

The thought of visiting such a swamp intrigued H.P.L. and he discarded his habit of staying in during the bright hours of the day to join my husband in the long hike. They took a trolley to Chepachet, and from then on they were on their own. It was a long walk to any kind of swamp land from the civic center of the community, and hours later, after viewing several small swamps but not finding any to answer the description of Black Swamp, they were about to turn back when Lovecraft suggested that they stop in and rest at one of the farmhouses dotting the section. besides, he averred, some of the farmers in that region might possibly know where (and if) there was such a swamp in the vicinity.

The wife of one farmer invited them into the kitchen and offered refreshment in the form of a glass of milk and gingerbread. H.P.L. eagerly accepted it, and he listened attentively as their hosts assured them that Black Swamp was virtually unknown to them, and it must have been a pipe dream somebody had, writing up a non-existent place. There were plenty of swamps, but none, they were sure, through which sunlight never filtered. Sometimes their cows got lost in the swampland, but they always found them sooner or later.

Lovecraft, later, jotted down in a little notebook he carried, tidbits of their quaint Yankee talk, saying the trip was not entirely a failure, as he had gleaned quite a bit from hearing the antiquarians converse. It would come in handy when he wrote his next story, he assured my tired-out husband.
—Muriel E. Eddy, “The Gentleman from Angell Street” (1961)
in The Gentleman of Angell Street 11-12

My husband often accompanied Howard on trips to get new ideas. One day they took a trolley car from Providence to the village of Chepachet, Rhode Island, to find a black swamp. it was said to be so overhung by trees that sunshine could not penetrate it.

They hiked for hours, and saw several swamps, but found nothing to answer the description.

But H.P.L. made many notes for future reference. He told Cliff that no trip was ever wasted.

Although Howard never wrote a story about the non-existent swamp, my husband used this as a basis for the last story he wrote during his retirement. Entitled “Black Noon,” it will be published in 1970 by August Derleth of Arkham House, Sauk City, Wis.

—Muriel E. Eddy, H.P.L. “The Man and the Image” (1969) 4
Later revised as “Lovecraft Among the Demons” (1970)
in The Gentleman from Angell Street 54

Muriel E. Eddy’s accounts add certain details lacking in both Lovecraft and her husband’s accounts, such as being served milk and gingerbread by a farmer’s wife (perhaps while waiting in the kitchen of Fred Barnes?) which might be authentic; others might be invented (no notes related to Dark Swamp are in Lovecraft’s Commonplace Book) or the result of the telephone game from husband to wife (neither of them mention any smaller swamps, either).

Both Lovecraft and Muriel Eddy reference “Black Noon,” a story begun by C. M. Eddy, Jr. If the story was begun in 1923, as Lovecraft suggests, it was not completed at that time. C. M. Eddy, Jr. attempted to complete the story in the 1960s, but ill-health made it difficult or impossible for him to write, and the story went unfinished at the time of his death in 1967. In the Arkham Collector Summer 1968, August Derleth announced “Black Noon” would appear in the forthcoming anthology Dark Things, but Derleth died in 1971, before this fragment could be published, and it was not included in Dark Things. “Black Noon” was eventually published in Eddy’s posthumous collection Exit Into Eternity (1973).

“Black Noon” is set in Eddy’s fictional Fenham, with a thinly-disguised Weird Tales (as Uncanny Stories), Lovecraft (as Robert Otis Mather), and Dark Swamp (as Witches’ Swamp). Although little of their adventure features in the fragment, some of the description of the swamp echoes Lovecraft’s:

[…] the trees on either side of this new construction had grown so close together that their trunks touched one another, and so tall that their leafy branches had interlocked to form a well-night impenetrable covering. In addition, hybrid vines, whichh grew rampant in the swamp, had over-grown both oaks and branches to eliminate all light from the canopy thus formed. The only thing that could find a way through this natural barrier was the fog which, during the early Fall, hung over the entire swampy area!

Even at high noon, the portion of the road was black as a moonless midnight! (117-118)

Neither of the Eddys ever mentions Lovecraft’s “IT”; whether this was an invention of Lovecraft’s or a local legend that he picked up on but the Eddys failed to mention is unclear. Thomas D’Agostino in “Dark Swamp’s IT” (2020) leans into local legends; Stephen Olbrys Gencarella in “Lovecraft and the Folklore of Glocester’s Dark Swamp” (Lovecraft Annual #16) goes even deeper, and critically analyzes D’Agostino’s claims. Personally, I’m inclined to agree with Gencarella that Lovecraft may have been pulling his correspondent’s legs a bit—whether or not there was a germ of local lore at the heart of it, Lovecraft let his imagination elaborate with each telling.

However, it is interesting that Clifford Myron Eddy mentioned “IT,” when his parents did not. Did the elder Eddys decide it was more believable to leave out the legendary critter, or did the younger Eddy read Lovecraft’s account in his letters? Alas, we may never know. All we are left with is an intriguing bit of data, and it isn’t clear if it is fool’s gold or the real thing; if it is just a bit of glitter among the dross of clippings, or a valuable addition to Lovecraft studies. All researchers can do is sieve through the data.

Lucky for some of us, it is good fun to pan for digital gold in newspaper archives.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

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Deeper Cut: Lovecraft, Racism, & Humor

Racist Language
The following article deals explicitly with racism in humor, many examples of which use racial pejoratives. Frank discussion of these matters requires the reproduction of at least some samples of racist pejoratives and ideas in quotes, titles, etc.
As such, please be advised before reading further.


Mr. Snow, I believe these to be Negro eggs.
—The Author, Planetary/The Authority: Ruling the World (2000) by Warren Ellis & Phil Jimenez

Few authors have been as personally identified with their work as H. P. Lovecraft. Even during his own lifetime, Lovecraft’s friends began to incorporate fictional versions of them into his stories—as “Howard” in “The Space-Eaters” (1928) by Frank Belknap Long, Jr.; as the unnamed mystic dreamer in “The Shambler from the Stars” (1935) and Luveh-Keraph, Priest of Bast in “The Suicide in the Study” (1935) by Robert Bloch; and as “the man with the long chin” in The Village Green (192?) by Edith Miniter.

In life, Lovecraft was a self-effacing and ready correspondent who made many contacts with his fans and peers in pulp fiction and amateur journalism; he liked to project the image of himself as older and more reclusive than he actually was. After his death, this personal myth-making took on a life of its own, as his legend developed and spread. There was no absence of humor from the early decades as awareness of Lovecraft and his Mythos grew, with both parody and satire present in works like “At the Mountains of Murkiness, or From Lovecraft to Leacock” (1940) by Arthur C. Clarke.

A notable absence in early humor directed at Lovecraft is any mention of his racism. The biographical facts of Lovecraft’s life were generally slow to emerge, and not always readily available to fans. So while comments on Lovecraft’s racism and antisemitism were made public by the first version of his wife’s memoir in the 1940s (see The Private Life of H. P. Lovecraft (1985) by Sonia H. Davis), and August Derleth felt the need to address the issue in print in Some Notes on H. P. Lovecraft (1959), Lovecraft did not develop a widespread reputation as a racist until the publication of L. Sprague de Camp’s Lovecraft: A Biography (1975). De Camp, who had studied Lovecraft’s published and unpublished letters and other materials, emphasized Lovecraft as neurotic, a flawed human being, a possible homosexual, and especially as a racist—and published the entirety of the poem “On the Creation of Niggers” which is attributed to Lovecraft.

De Camp’s biography came at a time when Lovecraft was beginning to spread to a much larger audience, due to reprint of his work in paperback, films like The Dunwich Horror (1970), and growing influence on music, adaptations in comic books, and other media—and as Lovecraft was gaining more critical awareness and acceptance. The same year as de Camp’s book came out, the first World Fantasy Convention was held in Lovecraft’s hometown of Providence, Rhode Island, with the theme “The Lovecraft Circle,” and the first World Fantasy Awards were given out—in the form of a bust of Lovecraft, carved by noted cartoonist Gahan Wilson. So, just at a time when Lovecraft’s popularity blossomed and more information on his life emerged, de Camp released a highly influential book.

Many Lovecraft scholars criticized de Camp’s approach, presentation, and conclusions—though not the underlying facts: while speculation about Lovecraft’s sexuality or mental health were subjective, Lovecraft’s prejudices were clearly expressed in his letters. The critiques, however, didn’t have the reach of the book itself, and many of de Camp’s misconceptions continue to color perceptions of Lovecraft to the present day. This has been very apparent in various fictional depictions of Lovecraft in various media, which often exaggerate Lovecraft’s characteristics and prejudices for humorous effect.

When the little kitten darted from the door and fled into the hall, the apparition in the darkness shouted out loud. It shouted in the high nasal accent native only to that part of New England once known as Rhode Island and the Providence Plantations. And its words were these:

Come back!” it cried. “Come back, my pet! Come back, NIGGER-MAN!
—Gregory Nicoll, “The Man Who Collected Lovecraft,” The Diversifier (May 1977) 68

As a subject of satire and ridicule, Lovecraft might seem to be a particularly strange dead horse to choose to whip. Obviously, Lovecraft is dead and is unaffected by mockery; he can’t regret or reform his reviews, and won’t roll in his grave no matter how hard you make fun of him. Humorous takes on Lovecraft are thus aimed at the living: at fans who are familiar with Lovecraft and his fiction, whether or not they enjoy either. In the case of Lovecraft’s racism in particular, this effectively serves as a kind of damnatio memoriae: unable to condemn a living Lovecraft for his prejudices, they make fun of a dead Lovecraft. These humorous portrayals, with all of their exaggerations, have influenced Lovecraft’s posthumous reputation and image.

Does making fun of a dead man constitutes “punching down?” Certainly, Lovecraft has no ability to defend himself from false accusations or inaccurate claims about his prejudices. On the other hand, he doesn’t really need any such defense. While Lovecraft may have no power to answer now, Lovecraft was racist, and part of the white majority that kept racial and ethnic minorities as second-class citizens during his life. Empathy in cases of historical racism should be on the victims of discrimination, not the perpetrators. Lovecraft may not have been a member of the Ku Klux Klan or participated in any racial violence directly, but he was still part of the majority of U.S. citizens that supported the legalized racism of Jim Crow and the social norms that prevented racial equality.

The occasional depiction of Lovecraft as “Genre’s Racist, Crazy Uncle” has exactly that much truth in it: Lovecraft’s prejudices were largely tolerated during his lifetime, and for some decades beyond that, because they were the same prejudices that millions of other people in the U.S. held. Just because those prejudices were common does not make them universal. Just because other people were racist does not make Lovecraft’s racism okay. The broad cultural background radiation of racism during Lovecraft’s lifetime is an explanation for his views, not an excuse for them.

The fact that Lovecraft is often depicted as much more cartoonishly racist than he was in real life, or than his peers, is in part down to the needs of the writer or artist to make a joke, but also in part due to lack of understanding of what Lovecraft’s prejudices were and how they fit into the historical context. Pretty much no one that mentions “On the Creation of Niggers” in any context wants to read a dissertation on the tradition of racist light verse in English poetry, just as few people who are familiar with the name of Lovecraft’s cat in “The Rats in the Walls” want a lecture on the propensity for naming pets racial epithets around the turn of the 20th century. They care about the current context, when the N-word is a racial epithet of unique power, not a historical context when such usage was more broadly accepted by a more openly racist society.

Many expressions of prejudice that were commonplace in the early 20th century seem egregiously racist now. Plain statements of Lovecraft’s life may seem ludicrously racist by the standards of the present, because many plain statements of racism in the 1930s and 30s are ludicrously racist by today’s metric. It is difficult for today’s readers to get a grasp of what a “normal” amount of racism was in the 20s and 30s when minstrel shows, coon songs, and the African Dodger were still socially acceptable.

In 1897 I was trying for Beethoven—but by 1900 I was whistling the popular coon songs & musical comedies of the day.
—H. P. Lovecraft to J. Vernon Shea, 3 Sep 1931, Letters to J. Vernon Shea et al. 46

As a consequence, when combined with a general ignorance of the actual nature and scope of Lovecraft’s prejudices, the exaggerations of Lovecraft’s bigotry are often much more extreme to get a laugh.

Ah! Look, it’s attempting to communicate. No doubt the savage thing knows language as a house pet knows its reflection in the mirror. The sense is taken in, but the process, the meaning is forever lost.
—H. P. Lovecraft, Atomic Robo and the Shadow From Beyond Time by Brandon Masters

There is a certain irony in that the more that we know of the facts of Lovecraft’s prejudice, the more ridiculous and far from Lovecraft’s actual beliefs that humorous takes on Lovecraft’s racism tend to get. The earliest humor was written by weird fiction fans who were generally aware of who Lovecraft was, his work, and some of the scholarship about his life. Later writers tend to be less familiar with the minutiae of Lovecraftiana and base more of their image of Lovecraft off the memes and stereotypes of Lovecraft and his work, or lean into a particular presentation that relies on such a specific image of Lovecraft as cartoonishly bigoted.

As a case in point:

Original Twitter post. Used with permission. All rights reserved.

In terms of accuracy, there’s a kernel of truth here: Lovecraft did express some prejudice against Italian immigrants, especially those in the Federal Hill area of his native Providence, RI. Lovecraft had even made mention of Italian immigrants in some of his publications, such as his very first widely-published poem, “Providence in 2000 A.D.”:

In 1912 my first bit of published verse appeared in The Evening Bulletin. It is a 62-line satire in the usual heroic couplet, ridiculing a popular movement on the part of the Italians of the Federal Hill slums to change the name of the main street from “Atwells’ Avenue” to “Columbus Avenue”. I pictured Providence in 2000 A.D., with all the English names changed to foreign appellations. This piece received considerable notice of a minor sort, I am told, though I doubt if it had much effect in silencing the Italians’ clamour. The idea was so foolish that it probably died of its own weakness.
—H. P. Lovecraft to the Kleicomolo, 16 Nov 1916, Letters to Rheinhart Kleiner & Others 76

The humor comes from the juxtaposition of the prosaic (and to contemporary eyes, ridiculous) prejudice against the harmless (if stereotypical) Italian immigrant and the eldritch entity breaking its way through the dimensional barriers. The cartoon also draws on and supports the misconception that Lovecraft’s fiction was largely driven by his personal fears and prejudices.

In real life Lovecraft actually liked Italian food, generally had congenial relationships with Italian immigrants he got to know, and rarely included Italian characters in his fiction. But that is a lot more nuance than can be expected in six panels. The joke doesn’t work if Lovecraft is presented as someone who isn’t triggered by the fact an Italian offered him a calzone, whose cosmic horrors aren’t inspired by more prosaic prejudices.

My taste has become so prodigiously Italianised that I never order anything but spaghetti & minestrone except when those are not to be had—& they really contain an almost ideal balance of active nutritive elements, considering the wheaten base of spaghetti, the abundant vitamines in tomato sauce, the assorted vegetables in minestrone, & the profusion of powdered cheese common to both.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Lillian D. Clark, 18 Sep 1925, Letters to Family & Family Friends 1.402

If there is a problem with the humorous expression of Lovecraft’s racism, it isn’t in the fact of making fun of a dead racist, or of painting racism as ridiculous or illogical. The problem is what it is often wrapped around in: the normalization of negative depictions of someone with mental health issues, and the downplaying of the dangers that contemporary racism represents. While a few scholars and pedants may decry the propagation of misinformation about Lovecraft and his fiction, that is ultimately a minor quibble compared to the bigger issues of propagating negative stereotypes like de Camp’s neurotic picture of Lovecraft, or of ignoring the really scary part about Lovecraft’s prejudices:

Many people held them then, and many people still hold them today.

Racist humor always has the caveat that to a certain audience, it isn’t funny because it’s ridiculous or breaking a taboo, but because it appeals to their own prejudices. Dave Chappelle mentioned in a 2006 interview with Oprah about someone laughing at him, rather than with him. The same thing cannot happen in the same way with Lovecraft because Lovecraft is white, and even prejudicial words like “cracker” and “honky” don’t have the same bite or weight as the N-word. Yet at the same time, making fun of Lovecraft’s prejudices has become a popular excuse for continuing to spread that language—the name of his cat, the poem “On the Creation of Niggers”—many writers find it acceptable to repeat that in a humorous context, as the punchline of the joke.

So might their audience.

The use of nigger by black rappers and comedians has given the term a new currency and enhanced cachet such that many young whites yearn to use the term like the blacks whom they see as heroes or trendsetters.
—Randall Kennedy, Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word (2003) 36

The moral problem with the humorous portrayal of Lovecraft’s racism isn’t about making fun of Lovecraft, who is already dead and long past injury. It is that the jokes themselves do little but reiterate and spread prejudice. They don’t teach the audience anything about Lovecraft’s racism, and often only work when predicated on an audience already aware of Lovecraft’s racism in some form.

Is there any hidden moral or germ of insight in these portrayals?

A case in point might be made for the Midnight Pals, which takes as its set-up the idea of famous writers, living and dead, sitting around a campfire and having brief conversations. The nature of the form means that the personalities are exaggerated and deliberately satirical. Lovecraft is often portrayed as neurotic, racist, although often ultimately harmless (as opposed to J. K. Rowling, who also appears.) In most cases, Howard’s portrayal makes him the butt of the joke, and the series is clear in demonstrating that racism is bad and Lovecraft is cringe for his prejudices—though not ostracised. Indeed, despite the differing beliefs presented, the campfire group is specifically accepting, even of members who are wildly far apart in their views on race, sex, etc.

The series doesn’t work without some butt to the jokes. Like Archie Bunker, Lovecraft in the Midnight Pals has become the mostly-lovable racist, whose prejudices are played for laughs rather than evidence of malice.

Humor is only one way of portraying Lovecraft in fiction, and Lovecraft’s racism is often used to make him a figure of ridicule. Yet even to do that, humorists often have to go far beyond Lovecraft’s own recorded words and actions. As racist as Lovecraft was, and with the unusually deep record we have from his letters and essays to give evidence to that racism, many people remain ignorant of what Lovecraft actually wrote and said, and many humorists invent new ways for Lovecraft to be racist—which perpetuates the idea of Lovecraft as racist, but isn’t very useful for refuting his actual beliefs. Lovecraft the racist is more often than not effectively a straw man when it comes to humorous portrayals.

It’s not conclusive, Clark, but it appears this dark-haired woman is your ancestor. Please, take no offense…university rules, you know. I’ll have to ask you to leave the premises.
—Prof. Upsley, Rat God (2015) by Richard Corben

A very rare form of humor when it comes to Lovecraft’s prejudices is irony. In Richard Corben’s Rat God, the very Lovecraftian protagonist discovers that he is less of a WASP than he thought he was—thanks to the late revelation of a long-forgotten Native American great-great-grandmother. The story takes obvious inspiration from Lovecraft’s “Arthur Jermyn” and “The Shadow over Innsmouth,” as well as the prejudices expressed in Lovecraft’s own life and letters. The result is not funny in a ha-ha sense, but a grim irony in that the character who exhibited such terrific prejudice throughout the story has discovered that he himself is now subject to the same prejudice by others.

Corben’s ironic unmasking of Lovecraftian prejudice does something that a lot of riffs on Lovecraft’s prejudices don’t: it moves the plot forward. It has something to say beyond “look at how racist Lovecraft is! Isn’t that funny?” It is a bit more subtle, but it also has a point, and illustrates that prejudice is a doctrine which is, ironically, color-blind to its targets. Who knows who every ancestor of theirs is, after all? Who do you think you are?

It has to be recognized that the depiction—accurate or exaggerated—of Lovecraft’s racism goes far beyond humorous jokes and portrayals. There are quite serious fictional depictions of or references to Lovecraft as a racist, as in Richard Lupoff’s Lovecraft’s Book (1985, later re-released as Marblehead), Alan Moore and Jacen Burrow’s graphic novel Providence, Lovecraft Country (2016) by Matt Ruff, The Ballad of Black Tom (2016) by Victor LaValle, Ring Shout (2020) by P. Djèlí Clark, and The City We Became (2020) by N. K. Jemisin. Accuracy is always a challenge for any historical character incorporated into a fictional work, and each author’s usage of Lovecraft is determined by their own research (or lack thereof) and their understanding—and perhaps especially, by the point they want to make.

In several of the latter novels, the point is specifically to bring attention to Lovecraft’s racism, as part of the point of their narrative is the acknowledgment and refutation of Lovecraft’s prejudices. Where a humorous depiction of Lovecraft’s racism shows prejudice as laughable, the serious depiction shows racism as no laughing matter. Either approach is workable depending on what point or mood the creator is trying to get across, one is not superior to the other, and many of the same observations about humorous depictions of Lovecraft’s racism also applies to non-humorous depictions.

Both humorous and non-humorous depictions of Lovecraft tend to be strongly driven by the myth of Lovecraft, rather than historical reality. The neurotic, cartoonishly racist caricature of a horror writer is often an easier character to work with than the more complex and nuanced historical human being, just as bumbling or villainous Nazis are easier to depict than stalwart German troopers with wives and kids who enlisted in a rush of patriotic spirit or economic need and ended up participating in a genocide. Lovecraft is not alone in being depicted first and foremost as a racist; many characters based on historical persons are essentially caricatures.

Lovecraft stands out in this respect only in that he is a pulp author from the period that humorists and their readers are still familiar with. Would the same jokes work if the subject was Ernest Hemingway or Catherine Lucille Moore? Probably not. Not because such jokes wouldn’t be as accurate (or inaccurate) as applied to Lovecraft, but because readers are less familiar with those writers and their prejudices. Lovecraft’s continued relevance, name recognition, and a vague awareness of his life are the main drivers for his continued humorous portrayals—racist warts and all. These depictions have been shaped by previous characterizations of Lovecraft, and in turn continue to shape his myth.

Real historical people are messy and complicated. Myths are easier to deal with. Yet the more the myth is repeated—the more extremes the depiction of a fantasy Lovecraft’s racism become—the harder it is to see the real historical individual. Many people, if they have the image of an individual as racist, take any correction of that image as an attempt to downplay or deny that racism. It can be very difficult to correct such a reputation once it takes hold.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

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Deeper Cut: “The Loved Dead” & The Indiana Magazine War of 1924

One of his stories in Weird Tales was so frightening that it caused removal of the magazine from the newsstands in at least one city.
—Howard Wolf, “Variety” column, The Akron Beacon Journal 12 Dec 1927, p10

In his 1927 article on H. P. Lovecraft, Howard Wolf relates the above brief anecdote, which probably came from Lovecraft himself, or one of his close associates. In writing to his aunt Lillian D. Clark about the article, Lovecraft explained:

He is wrong in saying that it was a tale of mine which caused an issue of Weird Tales to be barred from the stands in Indiana. The story in question was Eddy’s “The Loved Dead”—which, however, had much of my work in it.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Lilian D. Clark, 10 May 1928, LFF2.652-653

Lovecraft had mentioned a brush with censorship and “The Loved Dead” in his letters since late 1925, although details were vague. One of the key points seemed to be that it involved Indiana and, strangely enough, the Parent-Teacher Associations.

“In the Vault” he rejected because he feared its gruesomeness would get him into trouble with the censors—O Gawd! O Montreal!
—H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, 4 Nov 1925, DS 86

Glad you like “In the Vault”. Wright’s rejection of that was sheer nonsense—I don’t believe any censor would have objected to it, but ever since the Indiana senate took action about poor Eddy’s “Loved Dead”, he has been in a continual panic about censorship.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Lilian D. Clark, 13 Dec 1925, LFF1.507

About poor Eddy’s tale—it certainly did achieve fame of a sort! His name must have rung in tones of fiery denunciation all through the corridors & beneath the classic rotunda (if it has a rotunda) of the Indiana State Capitol!
—H. P. Lovecraft to Lillian D. Clark, 22-23 Dec 1925, LFF1.520

This worthy editor has been amusingly timid about very bizarre tales ever since he had had some trouble with state censors and parent-teacher associations over a story he printed three years ago—a story, as coincidence would have it, by an acquaintance of mine in Providence.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Bernard Austin Dwyer, [June 1927], LMM 455

C. M. Eddy, Jr. and his wife Muriel E. Eddy were pulp writers that lived a few miles from Lovecraft in Providence, Rhode Island. In the early 20s, Lovecraft and the Eddys were fairly close, and Lovecraft would have a hand in several of C. M. Eddy’s weird stories “Ashes” (Weird Tales Mar 1924), “The Ghost-Eater” (Weird Tales Apr 1924), “The Loved Dead” (Weird Tales May-Jun-July 1924), and “Deaf, Dumb and Blind” (Weird Tales Apr 1925), as well as work on The Cancer of Superstition for Harry Houdini. The degree of Lovecraft’s involvement in the stories is difficult to trace; the Eddys and Lovecraft gave different accounts of his work in “The Loved Dead,” though all agree the initial idea was Eddy’s, and it appeared under his byline when it was published in Weird Tales‘ large anniversary number in 1924, which was an oversize issue on the stands for several months.

The reason for the oversize issue is that Weird Tales itself was going through a critical re-organization. Initially, Weird Tales was published by the Rural Publishing Co. with Edwin Baird as editor, and Farnsworth Wright as first reader for the magazine; the offices were in Chicago. Mounting debts forced a change: Baird departed, and Weird Tales was now published by Popular Fiction Publishing of Indianapolis, Ind., with Wright as editor. The oversize 1924 May-Jun-Jul issueof Weird Tales marks the transition from Baird’s editorship to Wright’s, and the move from Illinois to Indiana.

This, then, at the beginning of Wright’s career as editor of Weird Tales, is when something happened—at least, according to Lovecraft, who would continue to refer to the event in his letters for the rest of his life:

Of course,  you would have to use vast care & subtlety in suiting the tale to Wright’s idea of its reception by the Indiana Parent-Teacher Association—& even so, his timidity might bring about rejection in the end. Poor chap—he’ll never forget the row that Eddy’s “Loved Dead” stirred up some seven years ago!
—H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, [8 Nov 1931], DS 301

Quinn’s new offering would surely seem to be strong stuff—hope it doesn’t produce another situation like that aroused by Eddy’s “Loved Dead”.
—H. P. Lovecraft to R. H. Barlow, [3?-6 Aug 1934], OFF 157

Poor Farny! That censorship of ‘24 absolutely broke his nerve, so that he has ever since been timid about publishing anything with a corpse over 10 hours old! As you may know, he once rejected my “In the Vault” as “too horrible”—although he did take it later on. It may interest you to know that I revised the now-notorious “Loved Dead” myself—practically re-writing the latter half. Eddy is a Providence man, & I was in fairly close touch with him in ‘23. I did not, though, devise the necrophilic portion which so ruffled the tranquility of parents & pedagogues on the banks of the Wabash.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Robert Bloch, [mid-Mar 1935], LRBO 132

Did I tell you that he rejected a splendid corpse story by Kid Bloch because it was ‘too horrible’? He brought up the spectre of C. M. Eddy’s “Loved Dead” again after 10 years. Poor chap—he’ll never forget the Indiana Parent-Teacher’s Association!
—H. P. Lovecraft to R. H. Barlow, [24 Mar 1935], OFF 230

A recent experience of little Bobby Bloch does not form an encouraging omen—for Pharnabozus turned down a yarn of his (about a chap who found that his bedfellow in an hotel was a badly decomposed cadaver) on the ground of excessive horror, bringing up the now-classic case of 1924 . . . . .  C. M. Eddy’s “Loved Dead” (the latter half of which re-wrote!) & the Indiana Parent-Teacher’s Association. Poor Farny—he’s like a dog that has received a nerve-breaking scare, & cringes every time anything reminds him of it!
—H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, [26 Mar 1935], DS 594

Poor Farny has been timid ever since 1925, when he had a run-in with the Indiana bourgeoisie over a yarn by C. M. Eddy Jr. of Prov., which I revised!
—H. P. Lovecraft to Robert Bloch, [mid-May 1936], LRBO 170

As with Edith Miniter and the Dracula revision, Lovecraft’s accounts are generally consistent throughout the years, and many scholars and critics have taken him at his word that perhaps the May-Jun-Jul 1924 issue of Weird Tales was banned in Indiana, or at least Indianapolis, and that the Parent-Teacher’s Association had something to do with it. The problem is, no specific evidence of such a ban has ever been uncovered. Unfortunately, the Lovecraft-Farnsworth Wright correspondence has a gap in that timeframe when it would have occurred, and the surviving letters do not mention it; the same goes for Lovecraft’s letters to C. M. Eddy, Jr. and his wife Muriel. A private collector has contacted me and shown a letter from Weird Tales editor Farnsworth Wright that mentions the episode of censorship:

“The Loved Dead”, however, did not draw the number of complaints that Miller’s story drew; but it was “The Loved Dead” that caused the Parent-Teachers’ Association to take action that is keeping us off of many stands in Indiana.
—Farnsworth Wright to C. M. Eddy, Jr., 4 Nov 1924

Lovecraft’s data for the anecdote must have come from Wright or Eddy—there would hardly seem to be anybody else in a position to know—but we are left with speculation as to what really happened. John Locke in The Thing’s Incredible! The Secret Origins of Weird Tales (2018) offered one possible explanation:

The editorial offices for Weird Tales at this time were at 854 North Clark Street, Chicago; thier business address was 325 North Capitol Avenue, Indianapolis, the address of a brick building constructed and owned by the Cornelious Printing Company, a well-known, family-owned Indianapolis company of solid standing, who happened to be the printer of Detective and weird Tales, and the largest creditor of Rural Publishing. Their building sat a mere block-and-a-half from the capitol. We suspect that Lovecraft’s initial comment—”His name must have run . . .”—was based on infortmation he misunderstood and which he tuned into a delectable joke. What fun to imagine that Eddy’s devilish little story threw a puritanical state goverment into a tizzy! In fact, what probably happened was that the PTA, a member, or even a state senator, visited the Cornelius office to complain about “The Loved Dead,” and the unwholesome influence it might have on the youth of America, etc. etc., and that the company, which had financial leverage, asked Henneberger to exercise more caution in the future. Then when “In the Vault” was rejected, Lovecraft converted his initial faulty suppostion into a fact. (173)

New evidence, however, suggests there was at least a germ of truth in Lovecraft’s account.

The Indiana Magazine War of 1924

In the Spring of 1924, a grassroots campaign of concerned parents, educators, and other busybodies had enough of salacious pulps on the newsstands. With a cry of “think of the children!” (or a foreshadowing of the later campaign against comic books by Frederic Wertham), the Parent-Teacher Associations of Indiana came together to petition Governor Warren T. McCray to do something about the pulp menace.

McCray dropped the issue in the lap of Indiana State Attorney-General U. S. Lesh. The focus of the petition was not on all pulp magazines, but seemed to be centered on confession pulps and the slightly risque (for the time) spicy pulps, confessionals, and the men’s humor magazines such as Hot Dog, which might have a few pin-ups that bared a shoulder, an ankle, and a filmy veil through which a reader might catch a glimpse of a nipple. Indiana, like most states, already had legislation on the books to deal with obscene publications (Sale of Obscene Magazines To Be Halted In State part 1, part 2), which had occasionally resulted in successful prosecutions (Johnson County Bars Magazines).

Lesh decided now was the time to enforce these laws, and sent out letters to state prosecutors naming 22 pulp titles that the PTA had put forward as wanting off the stands.

Weird Tales was not on the list; it was neither a confession pulp or a spicy pulp, and the covers during that period were often done by Andrew Brosnatch, and fairly unsalacious. However, based on Wright’s letter to Eddy, WT may have been in the PTA’s crosshairs, if not the state attorney’s.

The news spread quickly in Indiana’s newspapers. Immeditately, there was question of enforcement, cries of censorship, and pushback from newsstands, distributors, and pulp magazine publishers. Several state prosecutors such as Frank T. Strayer, Henry T. Hardin, John Summa, Mark I. Thompson, William H. Remy, and P. H. Hurd garnered notices and grabbed headlines (1924 was, after all, an election year) as they moved forward with enforcement, which initially meant seeing what was actually being sold at the local newsstands and bookstores and making the owners aware of possible legal consequences. As the focus was on the point of sale, several news agents removed the magazines from their stock rather than face arrest, fines, and possible imprisonment:

On Monday, 24 Mar 1924, raids were made at newsstands throughout Indiana. Police and prosecutors confiscated thousands of magazines. Macfadden Publishing, who had three confession pulps on the ban list (True Romances, True Stories, and Dream World) organized a meeting of news agents in Chicago (Publishers To Fight Seizure of Magazines). It was the opening salvo in what several Indiana newspapers would dub the “Magazine War.”

However, there was little that pulp publishers could do except circle the legal wagons. One of the first layers of censorship in the United States in that era was the U. S. Post Office, which had the authority to prevent the sending of obscene matter through the mail. Pulp magazines were classified as second-class mail, and subject to inspection; lawyers for the pulp publishers argued that if the post office accepted it, the content must have passed the postal censor (Ignore Attorney-General). This argument, however, did not hold water with the state attorneys. (Publishers Protest, Briefs Are Sent To Prosecutors).

Soon, rumors started of a “test case”—someone to actually be charged with a crime, tried in court, to see if the law would hold against legal reasoning (A “Test Suit”, Seen and Heard About Richmond). Lesh knew that this would be the litmus test of the campaign, and urged prosecutors to proceed cautiously (Lesh Changes Magazine Rule). Such a case soon became reality. State prosecutor B. H. Hurd had set a deadline of 1 April for local dealers to stop selling the banned pulps; one dealer resisted (One Dealer Selling Tabooed Magazines).

The affadavit charged the appellant on April 4, 1924, at Huntington county, in the State of Indiana, did unlawfully sell to one Sophronia Wannas an obscene, lewd, lascivious and licentious publication in the form of a pamphlet, to wit, a pamphlet bearing the name and title of, “Hot Dog, The Regular Fellows Monthly, price two bits,” being then and there of the issue of the month of April 1924, Vol. 3, which printed matter of said pamphlet being then and there too lewd, lscivious and licentious to set out herein and to incumber the records of the court therewith.
—Sunderman v. State of Indiana, Reports of Cases Decided in the Supreme Court of the State of Indiana, vol. 197, p705

William F. Sunderman was the manager of the South Side News Agency in Huntington, Ind. (The American News Trade Journal, vol. VII, no. 8, p4); Sophronia Wannas was Huntington’s first policewoman (Huntington Mayor-Elect Completes Apopintments). Charges were filed both for the circuit court and the local justice of the peace, Willis A. Jones (News-Agent Is Arrested For Sale of “Peppy” Magazines). The latter trial was speedy; Sunderman was charged on 4 April 1924 and by 12 April the jury had rendered a guilty verdict, with the guilt man fined $10 (the minimum)and costs, with no jail time (Jury in “Snappy” Magazine Test Case Finds Sunderman Guilty part 1, part 2; State Wins First Test on Lurid Magazine Sale). Sunderman vowed to appeal the decision. The PTA was pleased at the result (P. T. A. Members Here Pleased by Victory in Magazine Case).

At the same time as the PTA celebrated, however, Lesh was modifying his order. Macfadden’s pressure had succeeded in getting their publications off of the banned list, and there were outstanding questions about mail subscriptions (News-Agent Is Arrested For Sale of “Peppy” Magazines). At the same time, it appears that the PTA was attempt to add titles to the blacklist (Magazine Blacklist Order Is Forthcoming). Some publishers sent copies of their publications directly to state prosecutors, in an attempt to prove they weren’t obscene (Waltz Will Put A Ban on Severl Publications), and others held conferences with them in an attempt to change their mind (Persuasive Talk Fails To “Take”). Some dealers openly threatened to enjoin prosecutors from enforcing the ban (Evansville Magazine Dealers May Go To Court, Evansville Men Defy “Obscene” Ban); in reply, prosecutor Henry T. Hardin threatened to posecute anyone in possession of a banned magazine (Obscene Literature War in Vanderburg County, Death Knell for 22 Barred Magazines Will Be Sounded Here at Midnight Tonight).

Enforcement of the pulp ban was uneven. While Attorney-General Lesh could send letters to direct and guide state prosecutors, local authorities had considerably leeway into how hard they pursued the matter. When the new governor, Emmett Forrest Branch took office in May 1924, he pushed Lesh to send another letter to aid enforcement , but not every county took up the ban (No Objection to Magazines Heard, Obscene Magazine Fight Gets Impetus, The Indiana Anti-Pulp Crusade). On the other hand, other prosecutors appear to have been more keen: William H. Remy presented evidence before a grand journey to see if he could prosecute (Grand Jury May Get Bad Magazine Cases). Others set a deadline of August 1st to remove offending magazines from their county.

Pulp publishers such as Macfadden and distributors such as the Hoosier News Agency continued to resist however they could. Macfadden managed to convince several Indiana ministers to come out in favor of the moral stories in their confession pulps (Pastors Aid Magazines Banned Here), and Lesh apparently agreed to allow Macfadden’s pulps to be sold until a test case could be resolved (Magazines Under Ban Are Being Sold Thru “Truce”), but the individual district attorneys were the ones who decided which magazines to ban…which may explain why, in September 1924, Macfadden took out a large advertisement against the Richmond District Attorney.

As autumn turned to winter, the magazine war slowed. Lesh consulted with postal inspectors, presumably to stop the offending periodicals from coming into the state (In Postal Campaign). Some pulp publishers were accused of having changed tactics, producing pulp magazines with new titles that didn’t appear on the ban list (New Magazines Are Suspected), but this seems unlikely—or at least, the turnover of old pulps folding and new ones forming doesn’t seem to fit with Lesh’s list or the publishers of the pulps on that list. In practice, the pulp field was so fecund, with new magazines published and ceasing publication every year, that any static blacklist could not possibly keep up.

1925 brought a change: U. S. Lesh was no longer Attorney-General of Indiana. Lesh and the PTA had shifted their attention from enforcing existing laws to pushing new legislation. Their reasoning behind this was clear:

In a report submitted by the state committee it showed that among the 92 counties in the state, only eight had prohibited the sale of this literature. It was also found tha tmost of the books were being bought by high school students.
“Women Behind Bill Against Obscene Books,” The Evansville Journal, 29 Jan 1925, p10

Lesh prepared the bill, which provided for magazine sellers to be licensed by the state. The bill died in the Indiana house of representatives (Magazine Bill Goes Down in the House).

William Sunderman filed an appeal for the case he lost on 7 Jan 1925 (First Appeal Is Filed); the second case, which apparently never went to trial, was dismissed in July 1925 (Session Closes Cir. Court Term). The Indiana Supreme Court finally heard Sunderman’s appeal in May 1926; the court was not convinced by arguments that the issue of Hot Dog was not obscene, and conviction was affirmed (Higher Courts’ Record; Supereme Court Abstracts of Opinions on May 21, 1926; Magazine Fine Upheld; Court Rules Magazine Lascivions [sic]). Huntington city directories suggest Sunderman continued to work as a newsdealer.

Weird Tales entered into the picture near the end of the drama. While Lesh was out, individual prosecutors could and did continue to enforce magazine bans. Henry T. Hardin was a particularly tenacious and truclent. In June 1925, he published a list of 46 pulp titles banned in Evansville, Indiana—based on the initial list of 21 titles provided to Lesh by the PTA, it also included Weird Tales. Hardin’s reasons for including the weird fiction pulp among the spicies, romance pulps, and girlie magazines is not stated. Perhaps someone remembered an upset about Weird Tales and “The Loved Dead.”

In addition, Jim Dyer, the grandson of C. M. Eddy, Jr., wrote in the introduction to The Loved Dead and Other Tales:

Farnsworth Wright, who took over as editor of Weird Tales from Edwin Baird, wrote in a September 1924 letter, “The Richmond (Indiana) Parent Teachers’ Association tried to get an injunction out against the further publication of Weird Tales because of ‘The Loved Dead.'” (vi)

Without access to that letter, this quote cannot be confirmed, and no news notice in support of this has yet been located. Yet if accurate, that would be another instance of Weird Tales being targeted, and would correspond with Wright’s letter to Eddy of 6 Nov 1924 and Lovecraft’s statement sin his letters.

While the stated intent of the campaign was to save the children, the magazines targeted had an audience largely comprised of older teens and adults, many of them women (“Bootlegging” of Magazines is Predicted). Confession pulps like True Romance and True Confessions more often than not contained morality tales where women expressed their regret for terrible decisions or circumstances that left them wiser and dealing with the consequences; yet to hear state prosecutor William H. Remy tell it:

They make a heroine of the unfaithful wife and a martyr of the renegade husband. The divorce evil is already serious enough in Marion county, and so is the matter of crime, and magazines which tend to encourage either or to condone offenses against the laws of the land ought to be blacklisted by public opinion as well as by law.
“To Prosecure Sellers of Obscene Magazines” part 1, The Indianapolis News, 3 May 1924, p1

Even the spicy pulps like Breezy Stories and Saucy Stories sold the sizzle, not the steak—no pulp publisher was going to print an explicit account of sex. Yet to the stolid men of the state attorneys offices, these were considered obscene.

Conservative groups largely supported Lesh and the state attorneys on their anti-pulp crusade. They received endorsements from the Indianapolis Local Council of Women (Women Indorse Lesh Drive on Obscene Books), the North Indiana Methodist Episcopal conference (Election of Laymen to M. E. Conference Center of Interest), the Indianapolis Ministerial Associtation (Ministers Back Lesh In Fight on Magazines), the Duaghters of the Union (Magazine Blacklist Order Is Forthcoming), and other groups. Meanwhile, Lesh and the PTA reached out for support from the local Chambers of Commerce, Rotary Clubs, and Kiwanis Clubs (Civic Clubs to Be Asked to Aid in Magazine War), PTAs in other states (To Indorse Magazine War, Start Crusade on Obsene [sic] Magazines), and the powerful Anti-Saloon League of America (Lesh Asks Drys To Fight Lurid Literature Sale).

Yet despite all the hullaballoo, it is clear this was not a popular crusade. At a time when the state prosecutors and law enforcement were wrestling with the Volstead Act, Indiana’s Magazine War went unsupported in a majority of its counties, seems to have resulted in few prosecutions or fines, and did not apparently change or diminish the content of any of the pulp magazines involved—unless Lovecraft was correct, and Farnsworth Wright, wet behind the ears as editor of Weird Tales, was scared because his magazine was numbered, however briefly, among the obscene materials that might be banned from the newsstands.

The players in this little drama are little more than footnotes in Indiana state history, but the outlines of the conflict are an old, ugly tale, one which has played out again and again—censorship by an outspoken minority, and the rule by fear.

Loose Ends

As with any old puzzle, there are a few pieces that don’t quite fit, and those deserve to be briefly addressed. In one letter recounting various experiences he has and has not had, Lovecraft wrote:

I have several times been in a police station—usually to inquire about stolen property, & once to see the Chief of Police about the banning of a client’s magazine from the stands—but never in the part devoted to cells.
—H. P. Lovecraft to J. Vernon Shea, 29 May 1933, LJS 131

Lovecraft does not give a date or place for his incident, and some have suggested that this might be a reference to the banning of Weird Tales‘ May-Jun-Jul 1924 issue. However, on the balance this seems unlikely—Lovecraft was never in Indiana, and there doesn’t seem to be anything the Chief of Police in any city he did visit could have done. It is possible that this is a forgotten incident with another magazine—one can imagine the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice getting a hold of a copy of Home Brew and squinting at the phallic shapes of Clark Ashton Smith’s vegetation—but lacking any hint of that in Lovecraft’s letters, it must remain a mystery.

In a memoir of Lovecraft, his friend and literary executor R. H. Barlow wrote:

He tells me he ghostwrote “The Curse of Yig,” “The Last Test,” “The Electric Executioner”; some Houdini stuff in WT—“The Loved Dead”; that the latter was nearly suppressed in Milwaukee because of the necrophilic theme.
—R. H. Barlow, “Memories of Lovecraft (1934)”, OFF 402

Milwaukee is in Wisconsin. In this case, I believe Barlow simply misremembered what Lovecraft had said.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein uses Amazon Associate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

Deeper Cut: Lovecraft and the Boer Witch

Thanks extremely for the interesting cuttings, which I herewith return. I also have kept a file of these things for years—would you care to see some of the choicest items? I’d be glad to lend any number of envelopes full. That fog in Washington surely was a curious ‘colour out of space’ . . . . . I wonder if the preparations to reprint my story in that state had anything to do with it? The case of the Boer lady—Mevrouw van de Riet—certainly offers dark food for the imagination. She seems to be a sort of female Aleister Crowley—or a striga, lamia, empusa, or something of the sort. An odd—& potentially evil—face. Actually, she probably has the same degenerate psychology found in the old maleficae whom Sprenger & Kramer & Boguet & the other Renaissance prosecutors encountered—no doubt seeking to start cults or groups of loathsome practices wherever she settles. For fictional purposes you could use the South African birth—hinting at a childhood visit to the ruins of Zimbabwe by moonlight, & at whispers overheard there . . . . . . for is that not one of the points visited by the Fishers from Outside?
—H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, postmarked 18 Nov 1933, Dawnward Spire, Lonely Hill 479

I’m glad the newspaper clippings were of interest. Thanks for your suggestion about the Boer witch-woman: she might well have gone to Zimbabwe and imbibed certain vaporous or shadowy outside influences from those unholy ruins. I may yet use her in a story; she certainly looks the part assigned to her.
—Clark Ashton Smith to H. P. Lovecraft, postmarked 4 Dec 1933, Dawnward Spire, Lonely Hill 491

Today, friends widely separated geographically can easily send each other news articles and images from different parts of the world through social media and the internet. In Lovecraft’s day, they would stick clippings from newspapers and magazines to each other alongside their letters. As the clippings themselves often do not survive, researchers are left to figure out what Lovecraft and friends were talking about via the references left in their letters—which, for Mevrouw (“Madam” or “Mrs.” in Dutch/Afrikaans) van de Riet, little has come to light.

Fortunately, the ongoing scanning and uploading of newspaper archives has at last put forward a promising candidate:

Crash Is Laid To Woman

Witchcraft, darkly sinister, fraught with all the mystery that has coursed uncertainly through the ages, found its way into the port of San Francisco yesterday.

A tale of black magic was told by men of the sea who shuddered fearfully as they whispered of the strange curse that has pursued the Silver Palm, British freighter, which collided with the cruiser Chicago in an “unnatural” fog off Point Sur.

Woman in Mystery
As this saga of sorcery was recounted, it was almost as if a a marrow chilling wind from a long forgotten civilization swept through the city, desstrying every concept belonging to this generation.

The story concerns a woman. The only passenger aboard the Silver Palm at the time of the fatal crash, whose very presence on the freighter caused high seas to run and desne fogs to fall. Whose familiarity with gods of the underworld brought disaster upon the shop, and whose artful malevolence resulted in a near collision with the Tattosh lighthouse and the unforseen accident with the Chicago.

This is what members of the Silver Palm’s crew are whispering about Mrs. Maude A. C. Van der Riet, former resident of Marin county, who is now being detained at Angel Island at the request of the British Government, pending the arrival of another ship to take her to South Africa.

Fear Seals Lips
So convinced are they that she is a “witch woman,” and that she along was responsidble for the ship’s misfortunre, that two Hindu sailors refused to testify under oath at the inquiry board session at Mare Island for fear she would put a curse on them.

And yet, as Mrs. Van de Riet basked in the bright sun yesterday at Angel Island, watching her three kittens scamper about, she seemed anything but a “jinx woman.” She exuded no mysterious force, and spoke in simple terms of her weariness and her desire for beauty.

She boarded the Sil[v]er Palm at Vancouver at the request of the British Government who tactfully insisted upon her immediate return to South Africa, the land of her brith.
—S. F. Chronicle

As this article doesn’t include a photograph of Mrs. van der Riet, this wasn’t exactly the clipping that Smith sent Lovecraft—probably it was the original version from the San Francisco Chronicle, whose 1933 issues are not yet available. Still, it seems to be the only article that attributes witchy attributes to van der Riet, whose story is a bit more prosaic.

The 1930 Federal census lists Maude van der Riet as a resident alien from South Africa, a widow living on her own in Marin, California. A card from a 1925 crossing to Mexico gives her full name as Maude Anna Catherine Vander Riet. She was about 46 in 1930, and is listed as having entered the U.S. in 1926. A 1925 passenger departing/arriving list for Hawaii lists her occupation as “Nurse,” as does her entry in the 1928 San Francisco city directory. A 1925 newspaper article says that she was a Red Cross nurse, and that when denied to go to shore in the port of Los Angeles, she jumped off a ship, the Rakuyo Maru (same as the 1925 passenger list above), and swam ashore before walking back to the ship (Defies Law By Swim To Reach Land).

In 1933, Van der Riet was in Vancouver, Canada when she was apparently requested by the British government to return to South Africa. She boarded the M.S. Silver Palm as the only passenger when it left Vancouver on 20 October. On 24 October, the Silver Palm collided with the U. S. S. Chicago off Point Sur during a heavy fog. The collision left three U.S. seamen dead (Paymaster John W. Troy, Lt. H.A. McFarlane, Lt. F. S. Chappelle,), and one injured (machinist J. A. Oehlers) (Warship in Crash, Two Killed In Crash In Fog Off Point Sur). Later newspaper accounts reveal gruesome details: Oehlers had a “fractured arm and mashed hand” which required amputation of the army just below the elbow; Troy was crushed to death in his stateroom; the head and face of Chapelle was found as the wreckage was torn away, and McFarlane was initially believed missing, but the crushed and mangled body was found after hours of work with torch and saw—his stateroom had been directly hit (Mystery Ship in Crash).

Newspaper accounts list the Silver Palm arriving in San Francisco regularly; the Chicago was on the way to San Francisco for Navy Day celebrations. The Point Sur lighthouse could not see clearly what happened. As details emerged in the paper, Capt. Herbert E. Kays of the Chicago claimed that he was attempting to avoid a collision with a third, unknown ship (later described as a “rusty tramp freighter”) in the fog when the Silver Palm emerged from the fog to starboard. The third made of the Silver Palm, George Ellis Stanley, confirmed Capt. Kays’ report of a third ship (Quiz Pressed In Ship Crash).

Oakland Tribune, 24 Oct 1933, p3
The Oakland Post Enquirer 25 Oct 1933, p3
Ventura Capital Star, 26 Oct 1933, p1
Progress-Bulletin, 26 Oct 1933, p2

The first articles were focused on the crash itself, and the dead and missing officers of the Chicago. An official inquiry would be made and interviews taken (Naval Inquiry Board Starts Probe of Ship-Cruiser Crash), yet there was one witness that got into print the day after the accident: Maude van der Riet.

Petaluma Argus-Courier, 25 Oct 1933, p3

The news of the collision was widely reported; the aftermath a little less so. Reporters followed the inquiry, and the testimony given by crew and officers. Libel suits by the freighter company and the U.S. Navy were filed, and the tragic accident took on the narrative of a legal drama. Mrs. van der Riet is not mentioned in the lists of witnesses called—nor, perhaps, was she expected to be, as she was only a passenger. The sensational claim that Maude van der Riet was a witch appears to be only a bit of yellow journalism. They couldn’t even get the number of kittens she had correctly.

What happened to Maude van der Riet? Presumably, she was put on another ship to go back to South Africa; the why and wherefore of that trip and her earlier and later life aren’t recorded in sources I have access to, though possibly someone with better sources in South Africa, Canada, Australia, or the U.K. might have better luck.

Lovecraft and Smith probably had little more to go by than the one article declaring van der Riet a witch, and that is what tickled Lovecraft’s imagination. He would set a story partially in South Africa, “Winged Death” (1934) by Hazel Heald & H. P. Lovecraft, which was published a few months later, and the reference to Great Zimbabwe and the “Fishers from Outside” is a reference to “The Outpost” (1930) and his conception of an African Mythos. The idea of a woman who had learned witchcraft in the ruins of Great Zimbabwe was also a minor plot point in “Medusa’s Coil” (1939) by Zealia Bishop & H. P. Lovecraft, written c. 1930. The reference to Aleister Crowley is simply a reflection of the Great Beast’s reputation, which Lovecraft commented on elsewhere in his letters.

In the end, Clark Ashton Smith doesn’t seem to have used Maude van der Riet in any of his stories, and this potential plot idea was dropped by both men. Yet it is a good example of the kind of oddness that could crop up in newspapers during their lifetime, how this information (or disinformation) could be spread, and could inspire stories in pulp authors. It shows too how easily Lovecraft could adopt new material into his existing framework as the Mythos slowly grew.


Bobby Derie is the author of Weird Talers: Essays on Robert E. Howard and Others and Sex and the Cthulhu Mythos.

Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein uses Amazon Associate links. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.