Lance McLane: Even Death May Die (1985-1986) by Sydney Jordan

The space opera comic strip Jeff Hawke by British cartoonist Sydney Jordan (with William Patterson 1956-1969) ran from 15 Feb 1955-18 Apr 1974 in the Daily Express. While cut in the mold of Flash Gordon, Jeff Hawke was aimed at an adult audience (including some mild erotic elements in the form of topless women, which also appeared in British newspaper strips like Axa), and found an appreciative audience not just in the United Kingdom but in translation outside of English, particularly in Italy, Spain, and Sweden. Because the Express owned the rights to the strip, there were no English-language reprints until the 1980s, wheren Titan Books obtained the rights, although various European collections appeared.

In 1976, Sydney Jordan launched a “new” strip, Lance McLane (1976-1988), which ran in the Scottish Daily Record newspaper (several strips 1-238 also ran in the London Evening News under the title Earthspace.) This was, more or less, a soft relaunch of Jeff Hawke under a different title; Jordan even made it clear in a connecting storyline that “Lance McLane” was simply Jeff Hawke, several decades into the future, and some European editions continued the series numbering without interruption (which leads to some confusion, especially as some strips were created specifically for European magazines or fanzines that didn’t run in the daily paper).

In 1985, the “Even Death May Die” storyline began which saw Jeff Hawke and the telepathic female android Fortuna up against the Cthulhu Mythos—a run has only been collected once in English, in Jeff Hawke’s Cosmos vol. 10, no. 3, a subscription-only publication of the Jeff Hawke Fan Club. The storyline is more available inthe Italian collection Jeff Hawke/Lance McLane 2 Storie Inedite (2014), which also offers some valuable background material, if you can read Italian.

Io fui uno dei pochi a non esere totalmente sorpreso dall anuova direzione che aveva preso la storia, a circa metà di Vele nel Rosso Tramonto, perché sapevo che Sydney Jordan aveva acquisito i diritti di un racconto di H. P. Lovecraft da utilizzare per una storia chiamata The Dark Tower che non fu mai pubblicata. Le prime citazioni derivano da Il Richiamo di Cthulhu (1928), ristampato da August Derleth nella raccolta L’Orrore di Dunvich e altre storie, 1963, e in una selezione di storie da essa tratte, Il Colore dallo Spazio e altre storie (Lancer, 1964). Marise Morland suggerì la litania “O Gorgo, Mormo, luna dalle mille facce, guarda con benevolenza ai nostri sacrifici”, e altri dettagli, perché Sydney aveva letto solo poche storie, mentre lei le aveva lette tutte.I was one of the few who wasn’t totally surprised by the new direction the story had taken, about halfway through Sails in the Red Sunset, because I knew that Sydney Jordan had acquired the rights to an H. P. Lovecraft story for use in a story called The Dark Tower that was never published. The earliest citations are from “The Call of Cthulhu” (1928), reprinted by August Derleth in the collection The Dunwich Horror and Other Stories, 1963, and in a selection of stories from it, The Colour from Space, and Other Stories (Lancer, 1964). Marise Morland suggested the litany “O Gorgo, Mormo, thousand-faced moon, look kindly upon our sacrifices,” and other details, because Sydney had only read a few stories, while she had read them all.
“Note a ‘..Anche la morte può morire!’” di Duncan Lunan,
Jeff Hawke/Lance McLane 2 Storie Inedite (2014) 96
“Notes on ‘Even Death May Die!'” by Duncan Lunan
Translated into English

Sails in the Red Sunset was the storyline immediately preceding Even Death May Die, and includes the first references to Lovecraft and Cthulhu on the lips of a madman; it is this clue that leads McLane and Fortuna to Earth to investigate the cult of Cthulhu. It isn’t clear which Lovecraft story Jordan might have attempted to license for the never-published “The Dark Tower” story; presumably this would have been a deal with Arkham House, based solely on the title, I wonder if it didn’t involve The Lurker at the Threshold (1945).

Duncan Lunan also shared the above image in his post Space Notes 24 Jeff Hawke Part 4 – Not As We Know It (29 Oct 2023), a montage that combines panels and images from several strips in the storyline under the Earthspace banner.

Many of Jordan’s storylines ran 12-16 weeks (~72-96 strips), but but according to Tony O’Sullivan’s index “Even Death May Die” ran for 145 daily strips (A1508 – 1653), making this one of the longer storylines, and according to O’Sullivan’s notes the storyline wasn’t even syndicated in Europe (hence “Storie Inedite”—”Unpublished Stories”). Italian Wikipedia gives a different numbering, 149 strips (A1503 – A1652), but with the way “Even Death May Die” dovetails with the previous storyline and idiosyncrasies of international publishing it can be tricky to decide where one story starts and ends, exactly.

Given that there are ~10,000 strips, that the Cthulhu material came nearly at the end of this long-running project, wasn’t even published in Europe at the time, and that reprints nearly always focus on the beginning of the run, it may be no surprise that collections are scarce and that Jordan’s take on the Mythos has been largely overlooked. I only stumbled across it because the Daily Record archive is available on newspapers.com, while trying to find the first newspaper comic strips to include Lovecraft and Cthulhu.

The story itself follows what is now fairly familiar territory: Lovecraft was writing more than fiction, the Cthulhu Mythos is real, malevolent, and it’s up to Lance McLane and Fortuna to stop their nefarious plans for the human race. The pace of a daily strip can seem plodding compared to a comic book or graphic novel, and the often muddy tones of newsprint often render Jordan’s artwork very dark in the newspaper scans. Which is a pity, because Jordan’s artwork is strongly realistic, grounding the strip in a way that makes the fantasy elements appear as truly intrusive…even if the darker text boxes are sometimes difficult to read.

The 1980s UK sensibilities allowed a degree of eroticism, which is probably one of the reasons Lance McLane never found syndication in the United States newspapers. This is measured titillation (Jordan couldn’t be explicit even if he wanted to), but not inappropriate to the material: the idea of an orgiastic cult comes straight from “The Call of Cthulhu,” after all, and it’s a bold storyteller that manages to get as much on the screen as Jordan does.

However, this has to be read in the context of works like “The Discovery of the Ghooric Zone” (1977) by Richard Lupoff and Strange Eons (1978) by Robert Bloch: this was one of the first attempts to project the Mythos into the space opera future, and it was doing it in a mainstream newspaper, not in the pages of Metal Hurlant/Heavy Metal or other specialist comic magazine.

It is a pity that “Even Death May Day” hasn’t received a more widespread publication; at the moment, your best bet to read it in English is to get a newspaper.com subscription and manually scroll through the Daily Record day by day. For those that read Italian, Jeff Hawke/Lance McLane 2 Storie Inedite (2014) is a choice option to see the strip compiled and restored, looking better than it ever did on newsprint, being on glossy paper and in color:


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.

Pleasure Planet (1974) by Edward George

Eldritch Fappenings
This review concerns a work of adult literature. Reader discretion is advised.


Around November 1923, H. P. Lovecraft sent a letter to Weird Tales editor Edwin Baird, commenting on the contents of the magazine during its first year of existence. The letter was published in the March 1924 issue of Weird Tales, and included a challenge to writers of weird fiction:

Popular authors do not and apparently cannot appreciate the fact that true art is obtainable only by rejecting normality and conventionality in toto, and approaching a theme purged utterly of any usual or preconceived point of view. Wild and ‘different’ as they may consider their quasi-weird products, it remains a fact that the bizarrerie is on the surface alone; and that basically they reiterate the same old conventional values and motives and perspectives. Good and evil, teleological illusion, sugary sentiment, anthropocentric psychology—the usual superficial stock in trade, and all shot through with the eternal and inescapable commonplace. Take a werewolf story, for instance—who ever wrote a story from the point of view of the wolf, and sympathising strongly with the devil to whom he has sold himself? Who ever wrote a story from the point of view that man is a blemish on the cosmos, who ought to be eradicated?
—H. P. Lovecraft to Edwin Baird, c. Nov 1923

This inspired H. Warner Munn, a weird fiction enthusiast from Athol, Massachusetts, to write a story and submit it to the magazine. “The Werewolf of Ponkert” (WT Jul 1925) and earned the coveted cover spot. It was Munn’s first professional publication, the start of a long career in science fiction and fantasy, and perhaps most importantly the start of a long series of tales. Subsequently in the pages of Weird Tales, Munn published “The Return of the Master” (WT Jul 1927), “The Werewolf’s Daughter” (WT OctNovDec 1928), and a series of Tales of the Werewolf Clan published as “The Master Strikes” (WT Nov 1930), “The Master Fights” (WT Dec 1930), and “The Master Has A Narrow Escape” (WT Jan 1931).

Munn also became friends and correspondents with Lovecraft, who referred to the whole work in one letter as the “master” cycle—much as he referred to his own mythos as the “Arkham” cycle. Yet for Lovecraft, Munn had missed the mark:

It is my constant complaint that allegedly weird writers fell into commonplaceness though reflecting wholly conventional & ordinary perspectives, sympathies, & value-systems; & in this instance (as in others) I sought to escape from this pitfall as widely as I could. It pleases me that you grasp this matter so spontaneously—for some persons seem unable to understand what I mean when I bring it up. For example—I once said that a werewolf story from the wolf’s point of view ought to be written. H. Warner Munn, taking me up, thereupon produced his “Ponkert” series; in which, however, he made the werewolf an unwilling one, filled with nothing but conventionally human regrets over his condition!
—H. P. Lovecraft to J. Vernon Shea, 19 Jun 1931, LJS 16

The series also suffered from a relative lack of overt weirdness, as Lovecraft put it:

The trouble with Munn’s tale is that it subscribes too much to the conventional tradition of swashbuckling romance—the Stanley J. Weyman cloak & swordism of 1900.
—H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, [17 Oct 1930], DS 245

Yes—Munn does get into arid and sterile regions when he tries to hitch his romantic-adventure mood and technique to the domain of the weird. He is drawing the poor Master out to such lengths that one cannot keep track of the creature’s nature and attributes—indeed, the impression is that he merely retains the supernatural framework as a matter of duty—or concession to Wright—whereas he really wants to write a straight historical romance. But the kid’s young, and we can well afford to give him time. Let him get Ponkertian werewolves out of his system, and see what he can do with a fresh start!
—H. P. Lovecraft to August Derleth, [Dec 1930], ES1.305

“Romance” in this case doesn’t refer to stories about love or lust, but the older sense of romance as a fictional prose narrative of heroic adventure, in the traditional of medieval romances. The sentiments echo some thoughts by Lovecraft with regard to Robert E. Howard, whose weird fiction often contained a strong action-adventure element, sometimes with the monster or magic a bit of an afterthought. Still, Weird Tales editor Farnsworth Wright was impressed enough to consider the publication of Munn’s werewolf tales as a standalone volume:

Munn’s effort—I read the whole tale in MS. a year ago—has romantic facility, but to my mind he seldom achieves real weirdness. He is, though, a very capable writer, & ought to have quite a future ahead of him. Wright tells him that his collected “Ponkert” tales will form the third book of a W.T. series beginning with “The Moon Terror”—my own tales forming the second. Personally I’d wager that much time will elapse before W.T. publishes any more volumes.
—H. P. Lovecraft to August Derleth, [6 Sep 1928], ES1.155-156

Unfortunately, Lovecraft was correct: The Moon Terror failed to sell, and the idea of Weird Tales publishing collections or anthologies was largely abandoned. The Werewolf of Ponkert series would finally be collected in 1958, and when Munn expanded the series with additional tales in the 1970s and 80s was reprinted and recollected again. Of his friend, Lovecraft wrote:

Frank B. Long, Jr., Donald Wandrei, Wilfred B. Talman, H. Warner Munn, August W. Derleth, & Clark Ashton Smith are indeed all friends of mine, but it would hardly be fair to their own talents & initiative to call them my “proteges”. I have tried to encourage the younger ones & help them with their style whenever such help seemed in order, but they all succeed on their own merits. I am proud, though, to have been the first to persuade Long & Talman & Munn to send stuff to W.T.
—H. P. Lovecraft to J. Vernon Shea, 19 Jun 1931, LJS 18

So what does this have to do with Pleasure Planet (1974) as by Edward George (pseudonym for Robert E. Vardeman and George W. Proctor), an erotic science fiction novel? Well…read the back cover copy:

Step aboard the sex-computer equipped Intergalactic Vessel Werewolf along with Captain Chad Ponkert and his very horny co-pilot, Janet. Their mission—to find a planet to be used as a sex playground—a place where creatures from all over the galaxy can come together and get it on!

Chad Ponkert, I. V. Werewolf. Yes, it does appear that Lovecraft’s innocent suggestion in 1924 had, fifty years later, inspired a sleazy erotic novel, by way of one H. Warner Munn (who was probably utterly unaware of the borrowing).

The novel itself is almost a parody, although it might be more accurate to call it a pastiche. The oversexed everyman Chadwick Ponkert the Third is a spaceship pilot with a raging libido and a black belt in karate, who plays a few BDSM games with his co-pilot Janet where she refers to him as ‘Master.’ Their ship crash lands on a planet called Keller, which is like medieval Europe if there were no Christian church, a rather open and eager attitude toward sex, and the occasional alien beast. Which is to say, not much like medieval Europe, but not unlike a thousand sword & planet stories that ran in the pulps. Ponkert and Janet quickly establish themselves as lords and ladies in the oversexed land, happily screwing pretty much anyone and everyone they encounter page after raunchy page.

The girl was a veritable wealth of information about Keller. During their endless hours of bouncing on the backs of their sturdy steeds, he had never tired of her explanations of various sights they passed. She had also provided a history of Keller’s development. From what Ponkert could make of the various legends and myths she told, Keller had grown from the remnants of a derelict colonial rocket from Earth. The lost voyage had long been forgotten by the mother planet, which was to his advantage. If the Earth’s residents had known about Keller, they would have come in the teeming millions.
Pleasure Planet 113

Aside from the names mentioned, Vardeman and Proctor make no overt reference to Munn’s werewolf stories, nor are they parodying them. It is, rather, a rather basic and straightforward sword & planet tale fluffed out with a lot of hardcore sex. The difference between this and a mainstream science fiction novel is a matter of degree rather than kind, although there really isn’t anything to recommend it as science fiction. The story hits most of the weaknesses that Lovecraft noted about interplanetary stories in the 30s, following the Edgar Rice Burroughs model of a strong Earthman arriving at an Earth-like planet, rescuing a very human princess, etc.

As with many erotic novels, Pleasure Planet went through a number of titles and author pseudonyms. While it may be of interest to some folks for its place in the history of erotic science fiction, it also demonstrates the ripple-effect that Lovecraft had on science fiction and fantasy—how inspiration spreads out, from one little letter, to a series of werewolf tales, to an erotic novel—and who knows where it might end?


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.

Ghosts and Monsters (1982) by Mark Falstein & Tony Gleeson

Ghosts and monsters have long been favorite topics for many children, so this Getting Into Literature set has a real built-in motivation factor. The art aids understanding, and the text is set in type (rather than hand-lettered in the traditional comic-book style). These features make GHOSTS AND MONSTERS enjoyable and easy to read.
—Teacher’s Guide: Ghosts and Monsters

Imagine yourself in a public middle school in the United States of America, circa the 1980s or early 1990s. A genuine chalk board, rows of desks, an old-style projector. It’s the fall; leaves are falling from the trees, t-shirts are giving way to long sleeves and jackets. The classroom might be decorated with black and orange chains of paper, a cut-out of a witch, a pumpkin with a crooked smile drawn on in sharpie. The teacher passes out a stack of worksheets—but what is this? Comics? Horror comics?

Ghosts and Monsters was published by Educational Insights in 1982. The kind of boxed set of teaching materials that found there way easily into hundreds or thousands of classrooms across the country. The contents were pretty basic: a book of spirit masters for duplicating worksheets (crosswords, etc.) in an age before photocopying became ubiquitous; a brief teacher’s guide with suggested questions and activities; and a package of comic booklets which adapted a dozen tales of horror and weird fiction to comics:

  1. “Feathertop” (1852) by Nathaniel Hawthorne
  2. “The Flowering of the Strange Orchid” (1894) by H. G. Wells
  3. “The Bottle Imp” (1891) by Robert Louis Stevenson
  4. “Man-Size in Marble” (1887) by Edith Nesbit
  5. “The Legend of Gwendolyn Ranna” (1982?) by Frank Maltesi
  6. “The Ghost-Eater” (1924) by C. M. Eddy
  7. “The King is Dead, Long Live the King” (1928) by Mary Coleridge
  8. “The Secret of the Growing Gold” (1892) by Bram Stoker
  9. “The Gorgon’s Head” (1899) by Gertrude Bacon
  10. “The Outsider” (1926) by H. P. Lovecraft
  11. “The Stranger” (1909) by Ambrose Bierce
  12. “The Crewe Ghost” after Oscar Wilde [based on “The Canterville Ghost” (1887)]

It’s an odd mix. Many of these works were in the public domain, while the others were largely drawn from the pulps or (more likely) horror anthologies. “The Legend of Gwendolyn Ranna” by Frank Maltesi is a bit of an enigma, though the name is associated with several other brief legendary tales that have popped up in other educational materials; this may well be its first (and only) publication.

Most of the interest is on the comics themselves. The Teacher’s Guide credits Mark Falstein (well-known author of fiction for young adults) for selection and adaptation, and freelance artist Tony Gleeson for the illustrations. Each comic booklet is basically one large folded page, which gives four pages to tell and illustrate a complete story—a not-inconsiderable task!

The results tend to less grue and taboo than young horror fans might hope for. These were the last generation of “monster kids” that might pick up Famous Monsters of Filmland (1958-1983) on the stand, but they might still find a Helen Hoke-edited horror anthology in the school library, or pick up something from Scholastic involving vampires, werewolves, or bug-eyed aliens at the school book fair. Yet I have to wonder how many kids sat down one day and read Lovecraft for the first time as part of a school assignment—

And then fill out the worksheet afterwards!

Actually, there were two bits of Lovecraft tucked away in this package. C. M. Eddy, Jr.’s “The Ghost-Eater” (Weird Tales Apr 1924) was one of the stories that Lovecraft had somewhat revised for Eddy, and sold to Weird Tales editor Edwin Baird. As Lovecraft put it:

I have, I may remark, been able to secure Mr. Baird’s acceptance of two tales by my adopted son Eddy, which he had before rejected. Upon my correcting them, he profest himself willing to pint them in early issues; they being intitul’d respectively “Ashes”, and “The Ghost-Eater”.
—H. P. Lovecraft to James F. Morton, 28 Oct 1923, Letters to James F. Morton 57

How much of it Lovecraft actually wrote is a matter for debate; S. T. Joshi in Revisions and Collaborations notes the plot and some of the dialogue seems very typical of Eddy, while much of the prose reads like Lovecraft. In any event, it’s a genuine rarity. While many of Lovecraft’s tales have been adapted to comics, his revisions and collaborations are much less likely to receive the same treatment. This is certainly the first, and possibly the only adaptation of “The Ghost-Eater” to comics.

Given the limitations of space, the monochromatic printing, and the incredibly tight scripts, credit has to be given to Tony Gleeson for doing a very decent job on the art. Stuck with a very boxy framing setup, he nevertheless manages to use perspective shots and shadowed silhouettes to hint and convey something of a horror-mood. While the Teacher’s Guide suggests that the typeset text will make it easier to read, I suspect the real issue was that the budget for this project didn’t extend to hiring a letterer.

When we consider Lovecraft as something more than a cult figure, but as a writer who has entered the canon of world literature—this is a good example of what that looks like. Not necessarily fancy, expensive editions that can only be seen and enjoyed by a few, but stories that penetrate into common educational materials, hitting the masses when they’re young and becoming part of the foundation of reading. Ghosts and Monsters is a core sample of how Lovecraft came to the masses.

It’s a bit of history easily overlooked and easily lost. These were sold for classroom use, not to the public, and not preserved in libraries. How many classes went through Ghosts and Monsters before the comics were too worn for further use, or lost and displaced? Who preserves old worksheets from childhood days? These are deliberately ephemeral products, designed to last a few seasons and then be replaced as educational guidelines shift or a company needs to sell a new product. Edutainment marches on.

(Here are the answer keys to the worksheets if you need them.)


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.

Editor Spotlight: Helen Hoke

HELEN HOKE learned her alphabet by setting type for her father’s newspaper in a small Pennsylvania town. Later she wrote articles for the same paper, and after a period of teaching she moved to New York to launch a distinguished career in editing and writing. She is the author of more than seventy books, for both adults and young people, and has been junior-books editor at five different publishing houses.
—Back cover flap, Sinister, Strange and Supernatural (1981)

She was born Helen Jeanne Lamb (1903-1990), in California, Pa.; her father owned the California Sentinel. Helen was the youngest of four children. Much of her early life isn’t clear, though she clearly had some schooling and no doubt practical education involving her father’s newspaper. She married John L. Hoke on 20 May 1923; their son Jack was born in 1925. She did some work as a journalist, and later as a teacher; the 1930 census lists her as a clerk at a mail order company. Around 1929 or 1930, the family seems to have moved to California.

Miss Hoke entered the book trade in 1929, when she opened the book department in a Pittsburgh department store. Susbsequently she became head of the Children’s Book Department at Bullock’s, in Los Angeles, Calif. She became director of the Ford Foundation in 1934.
New York Company Establishes Children’s Book Department With Helen Hoke As Director, The Daily Herald (Monongahela, Pa), 3 Jan 1945 (3)

The Julia Ellsworth Ford Foundation was established in 1934, and promoted the creation of literature for children. Helen Hoke was very involved with the development of children’s book departments, shaping the literature aimed at the rising market. Her first published children’s book was Mr. Sweeney (1940), the first of dozens. As an editor, she influenced dozens more. Part of her emphasis was on books that appealed to both adults and young readers:

In a 1945 interview, Helen Hoke emphasized:

I look for books that will help young people to understand the time in which they live, the people with whom they have to live, and the world in which they live. Children are people, and should be addressed as people.

A few weeks later, on 31 May 1945, she married Franklin M. Watts, who owned Franklin M. Watts, Inc., publishers, and became vice-president and director of international projects. It was Watts that really launched her career as an anthologist, with books that bore distinctive title patterns like Jokes Jokes Jokes (1954), Puns Puns Puns (1958), Witches Witches Witches (1958), Alaska Alaska Alaska (1960), and Nurses Nurses Nurses (1961). While the titles might not have been super-creative, the repeated emphasis got the point across: these were anthologies that promised and delivered exactly what was in the title—and the contents, while sometimes skewing juvenile, often aimed for both young and adult readers.

Witches Witches Witches (1958) was the first of Hoke’s weird/horror fiction anthologies, of which she edited 29 between 1958 and 1986, not counting reprints. A glance at the contents shows many hallmarks of cheap anthologies: public domain stories, cheap reprints, the occasional bit of folklore. Yet the selection shows taste, and perhaps more surprisingly intermixed are plenty of stories from more contemporary authors, including well-known names like Robert Bloch, Ray Bradbury, Joseph Payne Brennan, Manly Wade Wellman, August Derleth—and H. P. Lovecraft.

Stories and poems from Lovecraft (or posthumous collaborations with August Derleth) appear in almost a third of Hoke’s horror anthologies. Readers both young and old would have thrilled to:

Notably missing are any of Lovecraft’s longer tales; Hoke wasn’t asking anyone from 8 to 80 to sit down and read through At the Mountains of Madness or The Case of Charles Dexter Ward. The focus is on the shorter, punchier, read-in-a-sitting stories that are largely standalone, and utterly unobjectionable in terms of content, aside from a bit of grief and a bit of stereotyping in “Cool Air.”

Like many anthologists aiming at a general market, little of Hoke’s own personality and reasoning for choosing some of these pieces comes through in the brief (sometimes nonexistent) introductions or chapter commentaries, and the occasional back cover or book jacket flap about her, e.g.:

Helen Hoke is well known for her anthologies on children’s humor, but she is also fascinated by the esoteric, the supernatural, and the weird.
Weirdies Weirdies Weirdies (1973) back cover

As Helen Hoke says, “Terror seems the more potent if it is not too detached from reality.” Some element of realism is necessary to make the improbably, plausible.
Terrors Terrors Terrors (1979) inside front cover flap

The use of three of Derleth’s posthumous collaborations is a bit of a surprise, especially since these were all published after his death; it would have been interesting to see the correspondence between Helen Hoke Watts and Derleth’s estate. Helen Hoke definitely toed the Arkham House line when it came to Lovecraft:

The Outsider, by H. P. Lovecraft, is one of the most original monster stories ever written. Lovecraft spent his life writing fantastic stories, which were first published in a magazine called Weird Tales. The unusual nature of his stories led to his receiving many letters from strangers, especially aspiring writers. Many authors have expressed their gratitutde to him for his help and generosity; one of them, August Derleth, rescued Lovecraft’s stories from obscurity and published them in book form. Lovecraft died in 1937, leaving a sure place in the literature of the fantastic.
—”About this Book,” Monsters Monsters Monsters (1975) 9

The one collaboration story in these books, “The Horror in the Museum,” is presented as solely the product of Hazel Heald, without any mention of Lovecraft—which is not unusual for the time. Though Lovecraft fans may well have recognized the Mythos elements that emerge in the story.

The Horror in the Museum will particularly disturb those who sense the terrifying potential of waxworks and masks, quite apart from monstrous mutations. Hazel Heald writes with a disquieting plausibility so that it does seem just possible such exhibits may really be seen in London.
—”About this Book,” Terrors Terrors Terrors (1979) 9

As an editor, Helen Hoke did little to inform the readers about the history of the stories or the author; the bits and pieces of editorial drapery are there to whet the appetite of potential readers, and fulfill their function well—but we don’t really get any insight into the process. Based solely on how often she used Lovecraft, she was attracted to either his work or the recognizability of his name (perhaps both).

How much did these nine books add to the recognition of Lovecraft in the 70s and 80s (and longer, as such books can linger on school library shelves for decades)? As with Betty M. Owen & Margaret Ronan, it’s impossible to overstate how critical it can be to get a reader young and hook them in. Helen Hoke’s anthologies weren’t paperbacks on the spinner rack at the local drugstore, these were the kind of books that got reviews in Publisher’s Weekly and the School Library Journal; Hoke was selling these books to librarians as much as to the young men and women that would eventually check them out, and that might explain why the stories are a notch or two above the average horror anthology for kids. Aiming for a more literate audience, with stories that could appeal to both kids and adults, may also be why these books are still very passable horror anthologies for adults today, and collectors pay some fair prices for the scarcer titles in good condition.

Helen Hoke was one of the editors and anthologists who knew horror could be for kids—and not just silly, schlocky, comedy-horror, but serious literary terrors. She was the flip side of the coin, the librarian-approved choice for kids that might glut themselves on Famous Monsters of Filmland and see Frankenstein and Dracula without reading the novels they were based on. More than a few impressionable young minds no doubt found their first introduction to Lovecraft in the pages of Weirdies, Weirdies, Weirdies, or felt that connection to the Outsider in Monsters, Monsters, Monsters. Holt’s anthologies were another route by which the tentacles of Lovecraft and the Mythos spread and disseminated.


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.

“The Message of Thuba Mleen” (1911) by Aleister Crowley

“Was it because of the Desert’s curse?” I asked. And he said, “Partly it was the fury of the Desert and partly the advice of the Emperor Thuba Mleen, for that fearful beast is in some way connected with the Desert on his mother’s side.”
—Lord Dunsany, “The Hashish-Man” in A Dreamer’s Tales (1910)

To properly review “The Message of Thuba Mleen” (1911) by Aleister Crowley requires a little background on Crowley’s relationship with the Cthulhu Mythos and Lovecraft’s references to Crowley in his letters. Since this background is a bit long with numerous quotes, some handy links are provided above to help readers navigate to whichever section they want to go to.

Crowley & Cthulhu

Aleister Crowley (1875-1947) never met H. P. Lovecraft (1890-1937) in life. Crowley was an English occultist, writer, poet, and artist who became notorious both for personal life and his mystical philosophy, which coalesced into the development of Thelema in the early 20th century. After his death, his systems of ceremonial magic and philosophy were developed by various successors and fed into the growing interest during the post-WWII spiritual awakening. Notably, his secretary Kenneth Grant worked to expand and integrate Crowley’s system of “magick” with other esoteric practices and even fictional material from writers like H. P. Lovecraft.

Although Lovecraft seems to have been unacquainted with Crowley’s work, it is evident that both were in touch with a source of power, ‘a prater-human intelligence’, capable of inspiring very real apprehension in the minds of those who were, either through past affiliation or present inclination, on the same wavelength. Whether this Intelligence is called Alhazred or Aiwaz (both names, strangely enough, evoking Arab associations) we are surely dealing with a power that is seeking ingress into the present life cycle of the planet.
— Kenneth Grant, “Dreaming Out of Space” in Man, Myth, and Magic (1970), vol. 23, 3215

Grant wasn’t the first to draw associations between weird fiction and magic; Le Matin des magicians (1960) by Louis Pauwels and Jacques Bergier referenced the perceived connection between Arthur Machen’s fiction and his membership in the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn (an occult organization of which Crowley was also a member). However, Grant did more than draw parallels; in his writing, he directly associated his understanding of Lovecraft’s Mythos into his exegesis of Crowley’s magick.

Fiction, as a vehicle, has often been used by occultists. Bulwer Lytton’s Zanoni and A Strange Story have set many a person on the ultimate Quest. Ideas not acceptable to the everyday mind, limited by prejudice and spoiled by a “bread-winning” education, can be made to slip past the censor, and by means of the novel, the poem, the short story be effectually planted in soil that would otherwise reject or destroy them.

Writers such as Arthur Machen, Brodie Innes, Algernon Blackwood and H. P. Lovecraft are in this category. Their novels and stories contain some remarkable affinities with those aspects of Crowley’s Cult deal with in the present chapter, i.e. themes of resurgent atavisms that lure people to destruction. Whether it be the Vision of Pan, as in the case of Machen and Dunsany, or the even more sinister traffic with denizens of forbidden dimensions, as in the tales of Lovecraft, the reader is plunged into a world of barbarous names and incomprehensible signs. Lovecraft was unacquainted both with the name and the work of Crowley, yet some of his fantasies reflect, however, distortedly, the salient themes of Crowley’s Cult. The following comparative table will show how close they are:
— Kenneth Grant, The Magical Revival (1972), 114

Grant then followed with a table of correspondences he perceived between Crowley and Lovecraft. A similar, though distinct, table was also included in the Necronomicon (1977) written by “Simon.” This was the first commercial hoax Necronomicon which was also explicitly a grimoire, something that was intended to mimic other collections of ceremonial magic rites, sigils, lore, etc. intended for use by practicing occultists. The introduction by “Simon” leaned heavily on the supposed correspondences between Lovecraft’s Mythos and Crowley’s magick.

We can profitably compare the essence of most of Lovecraft’s short stories with the basic themes of Crowley’s unique system of ceremonial Magick. While the latter was a sophisticated psychological structure, intended to bring the initiate into contact with his higher Self, via a process of individuation that is active and dynamic (being brought about by the “patient” himself) as opposed to the passive depth analysis of the Jungian adepts. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos was meant for entertainment. Scholars, of course, are able to find higher, ulterior motives in Lovecraft’s writings, as can be done with any manifestation of Art.
— “Simon” (Peter Levenda), Necronomicon (1977) xii

The ceremonial magic presented in the Simon Necronomicon was distinct from that in Grant’s system derived from Crowley; though they shared some common references in Lovecraft and Crowley’s respective mythos & magick. This unexpected complexity invited comparison, and sometimes fusion. From a metafictional perspective, it became the beginning of a parallel body of literature alongside the growing body of Cthulhu Mythos fiction: a Lovecraftian occult scene. One that started to flower when another Necronomicon, edited by George Hay, was published in 1978:

I had also been reading the works of Aleister Crowley—collected by my friend Roger Staples of Michigan University—and found the parallels so striking that I owndered if Lovecraft and Crowley had been acquainted.

Derleth was positive that they had never met—in fact, he doubted whether Lovecraft had ever heard of ‘the Great Beast’. If he had, Derleth seemed to think, he would have dismissed him as a charlatan and a poseur.
— Colin Wilson, “Introduction,” The Necronomicon: The Book of Dead Names (1978), 14

Wilson refers to a meeting with Derleth in 1967; later in the same introduction, he cites Grant’s merging of Lovecraftian Mythos with Crowleyian magick. The introduction was written with all the care of a good hoax; starting from a basis of facts and gradually weaving in fictional elements, to build up to the idea that Lovecraft’s Necronomicon wasn’t just a fictional book, but had been based on a genuine occult document from the Middle East—which is what the Hay Necronomicon was presented as.

So as the 1980s dawned and the Simon Necronomicon became available in an affordable paperback edition to grace New Age shelves forevermore, would-be Lovecraftian occultists had at least three separate sources to draw upon. All of them tried to tie H. P. Lovecraft to Aleister Crowley. The two men, who had never met in life, found elements of their legends entwined posthumously.

With the advent of the internet, it became easier for misinformation to spread. Colin Law’s Necronomicon Anti-FAQ (1995) was, like Wilson’s introduction, just a bit of fun—but it fostered certain misconceptions about Crowley and Lovecraft, despite repeated debunkings:

In 1918 Crowley was in New York. As always, he was trying to establish his literary reputation, and was contributing to The International and Vanity Fair. Sonia Greene was an energetic and ambitious Jewish emigre with literary ambitions, and she had joined a dinner and lecture club called “Walker’s Sunrise Club” (?!); it was there that she first encountered Crowley, who had been invited to give a talk on modern poetry. […]

In 1918 she was thirty-five years old and a divorcee with an adolescent daughter. Crowley did not waste time as far as women were concerned; they met on an irregular basis for some months.

In 1921 Sonia Greene met the novelist H.P. Lovecraft, and in that same year Lovecraft published the first novel where he mentions Abdul Alhazred (“The Nameless City”). In 1922 he first mention the Necronomicon (“The Hound”). On March 3rd. 1924, H.P. Lovecraft and Sonia Greene married.

We do not know what Crowley told Sonia Greene, and we do not know what Sonia told Lovecraft. 

Edwin C. Walker (1849-1931) was a radical liberal who founded the Sunrise Club in 1889; this interracial club held dinner meetings at which speakers were invited to discuss on a wide range of topics. According to L. Sprague de Camp’s H. P. Lovecraft: A Biography (1975), Sonia joined the club c. 1917 (160-161); and there is a reference to Sonia’s membership in one of Lovecraft’s letters (LFF 1.83). I have yet to find any reference to Crowley addressing or attending the club. Given he lived in the United States from 1914-1919 and was often living in New York City at the time, it is possible, if not necessarily plausible that he could have attended some evening.

There is no reference to Crowley in any of Sonia’s surviving letters, essays, or autobiography; no mention of grimoires or the Necronomicon. The idea that Lovecraft got the idea of the Necronomicon from Crowley by way of Sonia is unsupported by any evidence and relies on the idea that the Necronomicon bears some similarity to Crowley’s The Book of the Law—the same supposition pushed by Grant and Simon, among others. It is rather telling that nothing in Crowley’s own writings supports his meeting with Sonia either, and that all references to the idea of their meeting ultimately derive from Low. For more on this and other Necronomicon-related hoaxes and occult history, see The Necronomicon Files by Daniel Harms & John W. Gonce III.

It’s easy to go on, although facts and fiction get furiously muddled. Despite Grant’s assertion that Lovecraft had never heard of Crowley and Derleth’s assertion (as related by Wilson) that Lovecraft may not have heard of Crowley and certainly never met him, fictional meetings between the writer of the weird and the prophet of Thelema have increasingly featured in books and comics, one notable example being The Arcanum (2007) by Thomas Wheeler. Yet my favorite hypothetical meeting is a 1927 chess game between Aleister Crowley and Wilbur Whateley:

If Derleth did tell Colin Wilson that he doubted Lovecraft had ever heard of Crowley and this wasn’t another part of the hoax, then he was badly mistaken and should’ve known better. Lovecraft’s letters give considerable detail on his thoughts regarding Aleister Crowley.

H. P. Lovecraft on Aleister Crowley

The Crowley cutting is interesting. What has the poor devil-worshipper been up to now? When I was in Leominster (near Athol) with Cook & Munn last month, calling on a bookseller, I saw a copy of a book by Crowley—“The Diary of a Drug-Fiend.” The merchant informed me that it has been suppressed by some branch of the powers that be—though he agreed to part with his copy for three thalers. I did not take him up—but I told Belknap about the offer.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Wilfred B. Talman, [8 Jun 1929], LWT 114

In 1929, French authorities deported Crowley, which led to sensationl articles (Why France Finally Kicked Out the High Priest of the Devil Cult), and a similar cutting was no doubt passed to Lovecraft. From this first reference in Lovecraft’s letters, it isn’t clear when exactly the Old Gent from Providence became aware of Aleister Crowley, but the suggestion seems to be that Lovecraft was at least passingly familiar with the magus by the late 1920s, probably from similar newspaper clippings. From Lovecraft’s comments, his friend Frank Belknap Long, Jr. had an interest in Crowley…a greater interest than Lovecraft himself had:

Aleister Crowley still keeps in the news! Don’t take any especial trouble to send the clipping unless you find it lying around, for my interest in the gent is perhaps less intense than Belknap’s.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Wilfred B. Talman, [7 Jul 1929], LWT 116

In 1930, Percy Reginald Stephensen’s The Legend of Aleister Crowley: Being a Study of the Documentary Evidence Relating to a Campaign of Personal Vilification Unparalleled in Literary History was published, ostensibly to ameliorate Crowley’s reputation. Lovecraft apparently caught a few reviews:

And speaking of your precious files—have you seen reviews of the new book about that suave diabolist Aleister Crowley? Belknap sent me a cutting from the Tribune. The biographer—abetted by the reviewer—(Hebert S. Gorman, who claims to have dined with Crowley) tries to depict the reputed ally of Satan as a much-wronged and basically blameless poet—whose eccentricities are merely the harmless foibles of genius!
–H. P. Lovecraft to Wilfred B. Talman, [Sep 1930], LWT 133-134

Years passed. Crowley’s infamy was such that he served as the basis for several fictional magicians, most notably the character of Oliver Haddo in Somerset Maugham’s The Magician (1908); the black magician Oscar Clinton in H. R. Wakefield’s “He Cometh and He Passeth By” (1928) (and later, Apuleius Charlton in “The Black Solitude” (1951)); and, though Lovecraft never lived to see it, Rowley Thorne in the stories fellow Weird Tales writer Manly Wade Wellman, in one such story, “The Letters of Cold Fire” (WT May 1944), Thorne attempts to obtain a copy of the Necronomicon!

Lovecraft had not read Maguham’s novel, but was aware of its association with Crowley:

I’ve never seen the Ramuz & Maugham items. Poor old Crowley figures more than once in fiction—for I believe it is her upon whom the villain in Wakefield’s “He Cometh & He Passeth By” is modelled.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Richard Ely Morse, 22 Mar 1932, LHB 42

“Ramuz” may be a reference to C. F. Ramuz La Regne de l’esprit Malin (1917) tr. by James Whitall as The Reign of the Evil One (1922). The novel seems to draw no direct inspiration from Crowley, being about a stranger (who might be the devil himself) who comes to a small Swiss town and turns it into hell.

Lovecraft did read Wakefield, however, and was appreciative.

Wakefield’s stuff is generally very good, & I’m glad you’ve had an opportunity to read it. Of the tales in the first book my favourites are “He Cometh & He Passeth By” (the villain in which is a sort of caricature of the well-known living mystic & alleged Satanist Aleister Crowley), “The Red Lodge”, “The 17th Hole at Duncaster[“], & “And He Shall Sing”.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Robert Bloch, [22 Jul 1933], LRBO 62

Glad to see the item about Crowley. What a queer duck! He is the original of Clinton in Wakefield’s “They Return at Evening.”
– H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, [14 Dec 1933], DS 507

Wakefield is pretty good—I’ll enclose “They Return at Evening” as a loan in the coming shipment. You’l probably find at least four of the tales especially absorbing—“The Red Lodge”, “He Cometh & He Passeth By” based on Aleister Crowley), “And He Shall Sing”, & “The Seventeenth Hole at Duncaster.”
–H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, [Jan 1934], DS 515

Clark Ashton Smith, when he read the “He Cometh and He Passeth By,” gave his own opinion to Lovecraft:

I read one of the Wakefield stories last night—“He Cometh and he passeth by—” and found it excellent, especially in the suggestion of the diabolic Shadow. Crowley is surely a picturesque character, to have inspired anything like Clinton! I know little about Crowley myself, but wouldn’t be surprised if many of the more baleful elements in his reputation were akin to those in the Baudelaire legend . . .  that is to say, largely self-manufactured or foisted upon him by the credulous bourgeoisie.
– Clark Ashton Smith to H. P. Lovecraft, [Jan 1934], DS 520

Lovecraft’s reply reveals something new—an acquaintances of his had actually met Crowley:

As for Aleister Crowley—I rather thought at first that his evil reputation was exaggerated, but Belknap says that Harré has met him & has found him indescribably loathsome in mind, emotions, & conduct. This from Harré is quite a damning indictment, for Belkanp tells me that T. Everett himself is far from squeamish or fastidious in his language & anecdotes when amidst the sort of company that dissolves inhibitions. But Crowley was too much for him. He didn’t relate particulars—but said that the evil magus made him so nauseated that he left abruptly. I guess Crowley is about as callous, unclean-minded, & degenerate a bounder as one can often find at large—though he undoubtedly has talents & scholarship of a very high order. It seems to me I heard that he is in New York now—London won’t stand him any longer. And this reminds me that I forgot to return that old cutting of yours which mentions him—permit me to repair the omission now.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, [11 Feb 1934], DS 525

In 1933-1934, Crowley appears to have primarily been in London, dealing with a libel suit (which he lost). I have not discovered anything to suggest he went to New York at this time. However, Harré’s papers contain a folder associated with Aleister Crowley, so they may well have met or interacted at some point. It is also known that Harré and Crowley were published together in The International in 1915, so possibly the meeting occurred over a decade and a half earlier, when Crowley was in New York, and Lovecraft misunderstood.

Smith responded:

Judging from Harré’s reactions, it would appear that Aleister Crowley is a pretty hard specimen. I had discounted the legends on general principles, knowing nothing whatever about the mysterious magus.
–Clark Ashton Smith to H. P. Lovecraft, [Mar 1934], DS 536

At this point, Crowley became a reference point for diabolists and occultists of all stripes.

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.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith, [18 Nov 1933], DS 479

The subject would next come up when Lovecraft began corresponding with the young fan Emil Petaja in 1935, when the subject turned toward the Black Mass, Satanism, and the occult. Lovecraft was an atheist and materialist, but he had read something of the occult for research purposes over the years, and picked up other tidbits:

In the 1890’s the fashionable decadents liked to pretend that they belonged to all sorts of diabolic Black Mass cults, & possessed all sorts of frightful occult information. The only specimen of this group still active is the rather over-advertised Aleister Crowley . . . . who, by the way, is undoubtedly the original of the villainous character to H. R. Wakefield’s “He Cometh & He Passeth By.”
–H. P. Lovecraft to Emil Petaja, 6 Mar 1935, LWP 414

Petaja apparently pursued the subject with Lovecraft, who responded at greater length, apparently still under the misconception that Crowley was in New York:

Regarding the Black Mass & its devotees—it is really even more repulsive than fascinating. The whole thing is described minutely in Joris-Karl Huysmans’ “Las Bas”—which was posthumously translated into English in 1923 & promptly suppressed. The Black Mass consisted in general of a malevolent & incredibly obscene parody on the Catholic Mass—involving public actions & natural substances almost impossible to describe in print. It originated in the Middle Ages, & has [ev]er since been secretly celebrated by groups of half-crazed, psychologically degenerate sensation-seekers—largely in the great metropolitan centres. Paris, Berlin, London, & New York are probably its greatest centres today. It seems to draw its devotees almost equally from the decadent artist class & from the general run of over-sophisticated psychopathic personalities. Aleister Crowley is a now-elderly Englishman who has dabbled in this sort of thing since his Oxford days. He is really, of course, a sort of maniac or degenerate despite his tremendous mystical scholarship. He has organised secret groups of repulsive Satanic & phallic worship in many places in Europe & Asia, & has been quietly kicked out of a dozen countries. Sooner or later the U.S. (he is now [in] N.Y.) will probably deport him—which will be bad luck for him, since England will probably put him in jail when he is sent home. T. Everett Harré—whom I have met & whom Long knows well—has seen quite a bit of Crowley, & thinks he is about the most loathsome & sinister skunk at large. And when a Rabelaisian soul like Harré (who is never sober!) thinks that of anybody, the person must be a pretty bad egg indeed! Crowley is the compiler of the fairly well-known “Oxford Book of Mystical Verse”, & a standard writer on occult subjects. The story of Wakefield’s which brings him in (under another name, of course) is in the collection “They Return at Evening”, which I’ll lend you if you like.
–H. P. Lovecraft to Emil Petaja, 5 Apr 1935, LWP 420-421

The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse (1918) was compiled by D. H. S. Nicholson and A. H. E. Lee; but the book contains three poems by Crowley. The reference to “phallic worship” suggests that Harré may have confided something to Lovecraft about Crowley’s practice of sex magick, but this is as close as Lovecraft would ever come to mentioning the subject. Lovecraft apparently lent Petaja a cutting about Crowley:

Keep the review of the O’Donnell book—& here’s another from the Times. I’d like to see the Crowley one again—though there’s no hurry.
– H. P. Lovecraft to Emil Petaja, 31 May 1935, LWP 433

Elliott O’Donnell was a well-known collector of ghost and haunted house stories.

As it turned out, Lovecraft wasn’t the only one who knew someone that knew Crowley:

Conversation with one who has known the fabulous Aleister Crowley must surely have been interesting! I’ve seen several articles on this curious & repulsive entity, & am familiar with the portrayal in “He Cometh & He Passeth By”—though I have not read Maugham’s “Magician.” One other side-light comes from the amiable & picturesque source T. Everett Harré—editor of “Beware After Dark.” Harré has met Crowley; & although himself something of a specialist in corpological diction & anecdote, avers that the Hellish Archimage actually sickened him with the tone & subject-matter of his conversation. And anything or anybody capable of sickening the hard-boiled & perpetually pickled T. Everett must be—in the language of Friend Koenig—pretty strong meat! Crowley is evidently a tragic example of diseased & degenerate development in certain lines. Whether such a mass of psychological putrescence ought to be allowed at large is a sociological question too tough for a layman to tackle. The answer would really depend upon just how much social effect he has. But in any case he is obviously one of those “gamey” specimens who are much pleasanter to read & speculate about than to meet! Of his genius—of a sort—there can be no doubt. I believe he is an important contributor to a standard anthology which I’ve never read—“The Oxford Book of Mystical Verse.”
–H. P. Lovecraft to Richard Ely Morse, 25 Apr 1936, LHB 125

This is Lovecraft’s final published letter on Aleister Crowley—and it’s interesting to note that Lovecraft’s information is entirely second- or third-hand. At no point does he give any indication of having read any of Crowley’s prose or poetry, much less any of his magickal writings. To Lovecraft, Crowley was already essentially a living legend. There is no indication that any information passed between them.

Which doesn’t mean there isn’t a connection between Aleister Crowley and the Lovecraft Mythos.

“The Message of Thuba Mleen” (1911)

Many believe that it was a message from Thuba Mleen, the mysterious emperor of those lands, who is never seen by man, advising that Bethmoora should be left desolate.
—Lord Dunsany, “Bethmoora” in A Dreamer’s Tales (1910)

In 1911, Aleister Crowley was in France, writing prolifically as he finished the books of Thelema, a considerable body of poetry, and the occasional review. One work that particularly caught his imagination was A Dreamer’s Tales (1910) by Lord Dunsany. This was the fourth collection of Dunsany’s fantasies, and a strong influence on H. P. Lovecraft. Crowley was inspired by the book to write a review titled “The Big Stick,” published in his own magazine The Equinox in 1911. Appended to the review is Crowley’s poem “The Message of Thuba Mleen.”

The Message of Thuba Mleen

I.

Far beyond Utnar Véhi, far beyond
The Hills of Hap,
Sits the great Emperor crowned with diamond,
Twitching the rosary in his lap—
The rosary whose every bead well-conned
With sleek unblinking bliss
Was once the eyeball of an unborn child of his.

II.

He drank the smell of living blood, that hissed
On flame-white steel.
He tittered while his mother’s limbs were kissed
By the fish-hooks on the Wheel
That shredded soul and shape, more fine than mist
Is torn by the bleak wind
That blows from Kragua and the unknown lands behind

III.

As the last flesh was flicked, he wearied; slaves
From bright Bethmoora
Sprang forward with carved bowls whose crimson craves
Green wine of hashish, black wine of datura,
Like the Yann’s earlier and its latter waves!
These wines soothed well the spleen
Of the Desert‘s bastard brother Thuba Mleen.

IV.

He drank, and eyed the slaves “Mwass, Dagricho, Xu-Xulgulura,
Saddle your mules!” he whispered, “ride full slow
Unto Bethmoora
And bid the people of the city know
That that most ancient snake,
The Crone of Utnar Véhi, is awake.”

V.

Thus twisted he his dagger in the hearts
Of those two slaves
That bore him wine ; for they knew well the arts
Of Utnar Véhi—what the grey Crone craves!—
Knew how their kindred in the vines and marts
Of bright Bethmoora, thus accurst,
Would rush to the mercy of the Desert’s thirst.

VI.

I would that Māna-Yood-Sushāī would lean
And listen, and hear
The tittering, thin-bearded, epicene.
Dwarf, fringed with fear,
Of the Desert’s bastard brother Thuba Mleen!
For He would wake, and scream
Aloud the Word to annihilate the dream

Thuba Mleen appeared in two of the stories in A Dreamer’s Tales: “Bethmoora” and “The Hashish Man.” Lovecraft never used the mysterious emperor directly, but Bethmoora appeared in a long list of names and places:

I found myself faced by names and terms that I had heard elsewhere in the most hideous of connexions—Yuggoth, Great Cthulhu, Tsathoggua, Yog-Sothoth, R’lyeh, Nyarlathotep, Azathoth, Hastur, Yian, Leng, the Lake of Hali, Bethmoora, the Yellow Sign, L’mur-Kathulos, Bran, and the Magnum Innominandum—and was drawn back through nameless aeons and inconceivable dimensions to worlds of elder, outer entity at which the crazed author of the Necronomicon had only guessed in the vaguest way.
—H. P. Lovecraft, “The Whisperer in Darkness” (1931)

So it was that Crowley and Lovecraft shared at least one influence; and in Lord Dunsany they both found inspiration, and they both created new works that tied into his dreamer’s tales—and by extension, because they were both building off Dunsany’s Dreamlands, so did their own dreams touch, or were in communion, all unknowing. “The Message of Thuba Mleen” stand easily with any of the other dream cycle stories and verses inspired by Dunsany and Lovecraft, with their strange names and dark, suggestive hints.

Many occultists looked for a common source between the two, and sought to create a shared origin for the Necronomicon and the Book of the Law; to tie Crowley to Cthulhu, and Magick to Mythos. Yet the shared Mythos was there all along, in a half-forgotten poem. The two were not tied together by any dark secret or occult truth, but by an appreciation for the great fantaisiste, Lord Dunsany.

And always will be, ’til wakes Māna-Yood-Sushāī.


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.

“La Lámpara de Alhazred” (2023) by Manuel Mota & Julio Nieto

Habían pasado siete años desoe la desparaición de su abuelo Whipple cuando Ward Phillips recibió la lámpara.Seven years had passed since the disappearance of his grandfather Whipple when Ward Phillips received the lamp.It was seven years after his Grandfather Whipple’s disappearance that Ward Phillips received the lamp.
“La Lámpara de Alhazred” (2023) by Manuel Mota & Julio Nieto,
Cthulhu #28.5
English translationAugust Derleth, “The Lamp of Alhazred” (1957), The Watchers out of Time 114

Many of August Derleth’s “posthumous collaborations” with H. P. Lovecraft have been derided as pastiches. Yet “The Lamp of Alhazred” is more homage—and more accurately a collaboration than most of Derleth’s stories, since it incorporates a large chunk of text from Lovecraft’s letter to Derleth dated 18 Nov 1936, where Lovecraft described coming across a previously unknown wood west of Neutaconkanut Hill.

On Oct. 28 I penetrated a terrain which took me half a mile from any spot I had ever trod before in the course of a long life. I followed a road which branches north 7 West from the Plainfield Pike, ascending a low rise which skirts Neutaconkanut’s Western foot & which commands an utterly idyllic Vista of rolling Meadows, ancient stone walls, hoary groves, 7 distant cottage roofs to the west & south. Only 2 or 3 miles from the city’s heart—& yet in the primal rural New-England of the first colonists!He penetrated a terrain which took him almost a mile from any spot he had ever before trod in the course of his life, following a road, which branched north and west from the Plainsfield Pike and ascending a lot rise which skirted Nentaconhaunt’s Western foot, and which commanded an utterly idyllic Vista of rolling Meadows, ancient stone walls, hoary groves, and distant cottage roofs to the west and south. he was less than three miles from the heart of the city, and yet basked in the primal rural New England of the first colonists.
H. P. Lovecraft to August Derleth, 18 Nov 1936, Essential Solitude 2.756August Derleth, “The Lamp of Alhazred” (1957), The Watchers out of Time 119

Derleth also took inspiration from an entry in Lovecraft’s commonplace book:

From Arabia Ency. Britt. II.–255. Prehistoric fabulous tribes of Ad in the south, Thamood in the north, and Tasm & Jadis in the centre of the peninsula. “Very gorgeous are the descriptions given of Irem, the City of the Pillars (as the Koran styles it) supposed to have been erected by Shedad, the latest despot of Ad, in the regions of Hudramant, and which yet, after the annihilating of its tenants, remains entire, so Arabs say, invisible to ordinary eyes, but occasionally, and at rare intervals, revealed to some heaven-favored traveler.” Rock excavations in N. W. Hejaz ascribed to Thamood tribe.It had once been the property of a certain half-mad Arab, known as Abdul Alhazred, and was a product of the fabulous trident of ad—one of the four mysterious, little-known tribes of Arabia, which where ad—of the south, Thamood—of the north, Tasm and Jadis—of the center of the peninsula. it had been found long ago in the hidden city called Irem, the city of Pillars, which had been erected by Shedad, last of the despots of Ad, and was known by some as the Nameless City, and said to be in the area of Hadramant, and, by others, to be buried under the ageless, ever-shifting sands of the Arabian deserts, invisible to the ordinary eye, but sometimes encounter by chance by the favorites of the Prophet.
The Notes and Commonplace Book of H. P. Lovecraft 21-22August Derleth, “The Lamp of Alhazred” (1957), The Watchers out of Time 115-116

While nearly every Lovecraft story has been adapted to comics at some point, rather fewer of Derleth’s stories have attracted the same treatment. Yet it makes sense that Manuel Mota (script) and Julio Nieto (artwork) would adapt “The Lamp of Alhazred” for Cthulhu #28, the Lovecraft special issue. Because there are homages which capture as much of the pathos of H. P. Lovecraft as well as this one.

Manuel Mota’s script is a fairly straight translation of Derleth text, albeit truncated for space and with the illustrations serving in place of much of the description, which inadvertently cuts out most of Lovecraft’s text. Yet the presentation and framing of the words and Julio Nieto’s art does much to lend a sense of action to what is a largely contemplative story that draws on both Lovecraft’s life and the sentiment of “The Silver Key.” Readers feel Ward Phillips loss and loneliness, his refuge in his imagination, and the visions of other worlds, other times.

It is escapist in the most literal sense of the word, and one of several stories that reflect that quiet, profound desire to abandon the daily grind of life, with its quiet indignities, defeats, and injuries.

Nieto’s artwork is carefully realistic, the page layout traditionally grid-like; it is a straight-forward presentation that puts the more fantastic sequences, the break-outs where the panel cannot contain a wondrous scene, in context. The weirdness isn’t a part of Ward Phillips world; it is the way out.

Jamás se encontro el cuerpo de Ward Phillips.

La policía aún espera queue sus restos aparezcan en Alguno de los lugares queue solía frecuentar en sus solitarios paseos.

Con el paso de Los años, la vieja casa fue derribada, la biblioteca adquirida por librerías anticuarias y lo queue quedó gue vendido como chatarra incluida una vieja lámpara Árabe a la que nadie encontró utilidad alguna.
The body of Ward Phillips was never found.

Police are still hoping that his remains will turn up in one of the places he used to frequent on his solitary walks.

Over the years, the old house was demolished, the library was acquired by antiquarian bookstores and what remained was sold as scrap, including an old Arabic lamp that no one found any use for.
Though desultory searching parties were organized and sent out to scour the vicinity of Nentaconhaunt and the shores of the Seekonk, there was no trace of Ward Phillips. The police were confident that his remains would some day be found, but nothing was discovered, and in time the unsolved mystery was lost in the police and newspaper files.

The years passed. The old house on Angell Street was torn down, the library was bought up by book shops, and the contents of the house were sold for junk—including an old-fashioned antique Arabian lamp, for which no one in the technological world past Phillips’ time could devise any use.
“La Lámpara de Alhazred” (2023) by Manuel Mota & Julio Nieto,
Cthulhu #28.14
English translationAugust Derleth, “The Lamp of Alhazred” (1957), The Watchers out of Time 123-124

It is a story that almost demands a familiarity with Lovecraft to truly appreciate; those who have read his letters, who knows what Lovecraft struggled with during his life, can recognize more of the man in Derleth’s framing of the Nentaconhaunt narrative. Mota and Nieto do well to capture and depict as much of this atmosphere as they can, and the sensibility of the story is necessarily both sad and romantic in the older sense—this is not a Mythos story, despite the name “Alhazred.” it is a fantasy, a myth, so much more elegant than the reality that saw Lovecraft end his days in pain in a hospital as the cancer consumed him.

“La Lámpara de Alhazred” (2023) by Manuel Mota & Julio Nieto is an excellent overall adaptation of Derleth’s homage to Lovecraft, one that captures the spirit of the original—the echo of Lovecraft, as it were—for a new medium and a new audience.


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, 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.

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

“A Lovecraft Postscript” (9 Jan 1944) by Philomena Hart

Winfield, do you ever think of Philomena Hart? She used to be so interested in H.P.L. and many’s the letters we exchanged…re: him. I always had the greatest of respect for BOTH the Harts … B.K.H. was HPL’s good friend. (By mail, at least. HPL used to adore BKH’s column.)
—Muriel E. Eddy to Winfield Townley Scott, 23 Sep 1947, Brown Digital Repository

Mary Philomena Hart (née Kelly) (1894-1944), journalist and book reviewer, was the wife of Bertrand K. Hart (1892-1941), who for many years was the literary editor of the Providence Journal. Betrand Hart had a long-running article series titled “The Sideshow,” known colloquially in Providence as “bekes” according to H. P. Lovecraft, because he would sign each article “B. K. H.” Sideshow articles tended to be relaxed, positive, and centered on small affairs local to Providence and Massachusetts (where the Harts made their home).

H.P.L. and B.K.H. became friends by mail. In 1929, “The Sideshow” had a discussion about the weirdest tales, and Lovecraft couldn’t resist writing in. Letters went back and forth, and excerpts from some of them ended up in “The Sideshow”; these are all reproduced in Miscellaneous Letters. Following B.K.H.’s death in 1941, his widow Philomena edited a collection of these columns into book form, published as The Sideshow of B. K. Hart (1941).

She didn’t stop there.

It is the business of the living to keep on living, and so Philomena Hart continued her own column in the Providence Journal. On 9 January 1944, a few months before her own death, she published an article on H. P. L. and B. K. H.:

A Lovecraft Postscript Based on Barnes Street Letters.—The Providence Poe and His Decade of Mail to “The Sideshow”

Of all the fascinating mail which made its way through the years to the desk of “The Sideshow” there was nothing more exciting than the frequent postcards and letters that carried the initials, “H. P. L.” Winfield Scott and I talked at length about them when he was preparing his rewarding paper on Mr. Lovecraft for the Book Page a fortnight ago. They were written in tiny, clear script, their message was always pertinent to something that had appeared in B. K. H.’s column and usually they dealt with the eldritch, the supernatural, the oblique.

Mr. Lovecraft hoped one day to compile an anthology of horror-tales meeting his own exact requirements. “I fight shy,” he wrote in a long letter on the theme, “of tales dependent on a trick ending. Best horror dwells in atmosphere—even in language itself—and not in obviously stage-managed denouments and literary cap-pistol shots.” Once he wrote for B. K. H. a Providence ghost story of such eerie wonder that speaking of it the next morning in the Journal B. K. H. said “Personally I congratulate him up on the dark spirits he has evoked in Thomas Street but I shall not be happy until joining league with wraiths and ghouls I have plumped down at least one large and abiding ghost by way of reprisal upon his own doorstep on Barnes Street. I think I shall teach it to moan in a minor dissonance every morning at three o’clock sharp with a clanking of chains.

* * *

Only a couple of days later came Mr. Lovecraft’s answer to this threat in the form of a sonnet dedicated to B. K. H.

“The Thing, he said, would come that night at three
From the old churchyard on the hill below.
And, crouching by an oak-fire’s wholesome glow
I tried to tell myself it could not be.
Surely, I mused, it was a pleasantry
Devised by one who did not truly know
The Elder Sign bequeathed from long ago
That sets the trailing forms of darkness free.
He had not meant it—no—but still I lit
Another lamp as starry Leo climbed
Out of the Seekonk and a steeple chimed
THREE—and the firelight faded bit by bit—
Then at the door that cautious rattling came
And the mad truth devoured me like a flame.”

* * *

It was an oddly enduring friendship, that of B. K. H. and Lovecraft, for they met only through correspondence. There was never through the years even a telephone conversation though they must have often been at shouting distance from one another. Sometimes there would be post-cards nearly every day, occasionally two long arresting letters in one week coming from Barnes Street, then when matters discussed in “The Sideshow” were out of the range of Mr. Lovecraft’s particular interests there would be a spell of silence. Then suddenly some allusion in the column, some provocative line would start the welcome flood in motion again.

B. K. H. always valued Lovecraft highly, always felt that one day our Providence Poe would meet the recognition he so richly deserved. B. K. H. would have been delighted indeed that the present literary editor of the Journal saw fit to devote an article to the personality and the writings of H. P. Lovecraft.

The correspondence did not last a decade; Lovecraft was only at 10 Barnes Street from 1926-1933, when he moved to 66 College Street, and the last “Sideshow” to mention Lovecraft was published in 1931. The excerpts from Lovecraft’s letters, and the poem “The Messenger,” are all borrowed from B. K. H.’s columns.

Winfield Townley Scott, the literary editor of the Providence Journal, had published “The Case of Howard Phillips Lovecraft of Providence, R. I.” on 26 Dec 1943, an extensive review of the first two volumes of Lovecraft’s fiction from Arkham House, The Outsider and Others (1939) and Beyond the Wall of Sleep (1943). Scott would go on to write the first extensive biographical treatment of H.P.L.: “His Own Most Fantastic Creation: Howard Phillips Lovecraft” (1944).

It is always the unexpected that jars loose old memories, and sometimes sets one to sit down and write it out before they are forgotten again. So it seems to have been with Philomena Hart, who recalled happier days when her husband was still alive, and strange letters and postcards would come in the mail to brighten their life.


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.

“Mrs. Hinckley’s Providence” (4 Jun 1967) by Anita W. Hinckley

While going through the letters from Muriel E. Eddy to August Derleth, one passage caught my eye:

Dear August Derleth,

The moment I saw this article I knew I had to send it to you! Her memories of H. P. L. do not coincide with ours—neighter of us remember that H. P. L. wore a black cloak (shades of Dracula!) or a wide-brimmed hat! Also, that he sat often in the railway station. (Only when he was about to meet one of his literary friends!)

—Muriel E. Eddy to August Derleth, 4 Jun 1967, MSS. Wisconsin Historical Society

The brief description was unfamiliar; I knew of no such published account of Lovecraft. The enclosure did not survive in the file, however Muriel often sent Derleth clippings from local papers. An online search quickly located the article she discussed: “Mrs. Hinckley’s Providence,” which ran in the 4 Jun 1967 issue of the Providence Sunday Journal. Running for six pages (with ads and photographs), this article consists of a slightly rambling memoir of Rhode Island native Anita Wheelwright Hinckley (1884-1972), who wrote a number of memoirs of Rhode Island, including Wickford Memories (1972).

Lovecraft fans will note many familiar street names as Mrs. Hinckley reflects on the changes that the city went through over the course of her life, including Angell St. and Benefit St. She was most definitely familiar with the same geography of where Lovecraft lived and worked, and reference to the Providence Art Club suggests their families probably moved within the same general social circles.

But what did Mrs. Hinckley have to say about Lovecraft?

Before I forget it I want to write about Mr. Lovecraft. He was an unusual person, medium height, always dressed in black, with a cape coat and a wide-brimmed hat winter and summer. He wrote gruesome stories rather like Edgar Allan Poe, and some charming poetry.

Dorothy Walter, a member of our Short Story Club, said Mr. Lovecraft used to call on her when she was young. About 20 years ago a stranger came from Baltimore and asked Miss Walter and me many questions. I only remember that my father knew Mr. Lovecraft and always spoke to him. When we came from Wickford to go to school, Mr. Lovecraft was usually sitting in the Providence railway station, probably because it was nice and warm there.

It isn’t clear when Mrs. Hinckley saw H. P. Lovecraft. The 1910 Federal Census has her living in North Kingston, Rhode Island; but that same year she married Frank Hinckley of Providence, and their first child was born there in 1911. On the face of it, Mrs. Hinckley’s residence in Providence seems to have covered most of Lovecraft’s adult life. Yet the recollection “When we came from Wickford to go to school” recalls one of her other memoirs:

One day a week [George Cranston] would go to Providence to replenish his stock. He went on the early train, the one we children took to go to school spring and fall, and the one my father always took as long as we lived in Wickford. Winters, when the weather was bad, we had governesses and studied at home.
—Anita W. Hinckley, “Wickford Tales” (1965)

This suggests that a school-age Hinckley saw Lovecraft at the train station in Providence sometime in the 1890s or early 1900s (her father died in 1906, and she would have graduated high school in 1902). The problem is that Hinckley is older than Lovecraft; unless she saw him hanging out at the train station when he was 10-12, it seems unlikely.

When comparing Mrs. Hinckley’s account, written thirty years after Lovecraft was in his grave and probably at least 60 years after she saw him, we can confirm very little and might wonder at the accuracy of her memory. Lovecraft wasn’t known to go about in a cape coat and wide-brimmed hat, though a 1905 photograph does show Lovecraft in a dark coat and hat, so it isn’t improbable that he could have been wearing something similar.

Dorothy C. Walter (1889-1967) was the author of “Lovecraft and Benefit Street,” which appeared in The Ghost and Rhode Island on Lovecraft (1945), and “Three Hours with Lovecraft” in The Shuttered Room and Other Pieces (1959). Walter doesn’t mention Hinckley in those pieces, but there’s not necessarily any reason why she would. Nor is there any mention in Lovecraft’s letters of David Sherman Baker (1852-1906), whom Mrs. Hinckley claims knew Lovecraft—but, then again, since Mr. Baker died when HPL was only 16, before we have many letters, that might be understandable. The inquisitive stranger might have been science fiction fan and Lovecraft scholar George T. Wetzel (1921-1983) of Baltimore, although the description is scanty.

Ultimately, there is very little we can confirm from Mrs. Hinckley’s brief memoir. Yet there is no reason to think it is a deliberately false or exaggerated account, as with “The Ten-Cent Ivory Tower” (1946) by John Wilstach. While Mrs. Hinckley may not have had much insight to give on Lovecraft’s life, tidbits like this are an example of the little invisible connections and influences that folks have on each other all the time.


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: 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.

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