Part 6 (1/2)
Little Journeys to the Homes of Prominent Amateurs
Among the many amateurs I have never met in the flesh and realness of Life, Howard Phillips Lovecraft, poet, critic and student, appeals to me as no other recent ”find” in the circles of amateuria has ever appealed.
And Lovecraft _is_ a distinct ”find.” Just why he holds a firm grip on my heart-strings is something of a mystery to me. Perhaps it is because of his wholesome ideals; perhaps it is because he is a recluse, content to nose among books of ancient lore; perhaps it's because of his physical afflictions; his love of things beautiful in Life; his ardent advocacy of temperance, cleanliness and purity--I don't know. We disagree on many questions; he criticises my literary activities; he smiles at my suffrage theories, and disapproves of my language in _Chain Lightning_. But I like him.
Howard Phillips Lovecraft has an interesting history, and this fact was known to Official Editor Daas when he asked me to take a little journey to the study-home of the Vice-President. ”Don't stint yourself for s.p.a.ce” was noted on the a.s.signment tab, and after glancing over the biographical notes before me--I am sure that Daas has again exemplified his quiet humor during a serious moment.
Lovecraft was born at 454 Angell St., Providence, R. I., on August 20, 1890. His nationality is Anglo-American, and under British law he can claim to be a British subject, since he is a grandson in direct male line of a British subject not naturalized in the United States. His ancestry is purely English. On the paternal side he is a descendant of the Lovecrafts, a Devons.h.i.+re family which has furnished a great many clergymen to the Church of England, and the Allgoods of Northumberland, a history-honored family of which several members have been knighted.
The Allgoods have been a military line, and this may account for Lovecraft's militarism and belief in the justice of war. On the maternal side he is a typical Yankee, coming from East English stock which settled in Rhode Island about 1680. Lovecraft is a student of astronomy--it is a domineering pa.s.sion with him--and this love was apparently inherited from his maternal grandmother, Rhoby Phillips, who studied it thoroughly in her youth at Lapham Seminary, and whose collection of old astronomical books first interested him. Lovecraft came from pure-blood stock, and he is the last male descendant of that family in the United States. With him the name will die in America. He is unmarried.
As he was about to enter college at the age of eighteen, his feeble health gave way, and since then he has been physically incapacitated and rendered almost an invalid. Being thus deprived of his cherished hope to further his education and prepare himself for a life of letters, he has contented himself with his home, which is just three squares from his birthplace, and where he lives with his mother. And his home life is ideal. His personal library--his haven of contentment--contains more than 1500 volumes, many of them yellowed with age, and crude examples of the printer's art. Among these treasured books may be found volumes which have pa.s.sed through the various branches of his family, some dating back to 1681 and 1702, and methinks I can see Lovecraft poring over these time-stained bits o' bookish lore as the monks of old followed the printed lines with quivering fingers in the taper's uncertain, flickering light. For Lovecraft appeals to me as a bookworm--one of those lovable mortals whose very existence seems to hang on the numbered pages of a heavy, clumsy book!
His connection with organized amateur journalism is of recent date. On April 6, 1914, his application for members.h.i.+p in the United Amateur Press a.s.sociation of America was forwarded to the Secretary. Like a great many of the recruits, Lovecraft was completely ignored for several months. In July of last year he became active, and he has proven to be an invaluable a.s.set to the literary life of the a.s.sociation. He is _not_ a politician. However, his literary activities had been prosecuted many years before he had ever heard of the United. At the age of eight and one-half years he published the _Scientific Gazette_, a weekly periodical, written in pencil and issued in editions of four carbon copies. This journal was devoted to the science of chemistry, which was one of his earliest hobbies, and ran from March, 1899, to February, 1904. As in most cases, my knowledge of chemistry was acquired after I had spent four years in high-school, and the fact that any boy should be interested in that study at the age of eight and one-half years appeals to me as something out of the ordinary. But Lovecraft was not an ordinary boy. His second and more ambitious venture was the _Rhode Island Journal of Astronomy_. This was at first published as a weekly, and later changed to a monthly publication. This was carefully printed by hand and then duplicated on the hectograph and issued in lots of twenty-five copies. The _Journal_ was issued from 1903 to 1907, and contained the latest astronomical news, re-written from the original telegraphic reports issued from Harvard University and seen at the Ladd Observatory. It also contained many of his original articles and forecasts of phenomena. He owns a 3-inch telescope of French make, and aside from amateur journalism, his one great hobby is astronomy. At the age of sixteen he commenced writing monthly astronomical articles for the Providence _Tribune_, and later changed to the _Evening News_, to which he still contributes. During the present year he has contributed a complete elementary treatise on astronomy in serial form to the Asheville (N. C.) _Gazette-News_. Besides contributing a great many poems and articles to the amateur press, editing _The Conservative_ and a.s.sisting with the editorial work on _The Badger_, the appearance of Mr.
Lovecraft's work in the professional magazines is of common occurrence.
During the past year he has had charge of the Bureau of Public Criticism in THE UNITED AMATEUR, where he has proven himself a just, impartial and painstaking critic. That he will achieve a great popularity in the world of amateur letters is a foregone conclusion, and I do not think that I am indulging in extravagant praise in predicting a brilliant future for him in the professional field.
I am acquainted with Howard Phillips Lovecraft only through correspondence; I have never felt the flesh of his palm, and yet, I know he is a man--every inch of him--and that amateur journalism will be enriched and promoted to its highest plane through his kindly influence and literary leaders.h.i.+p.
ANDREW FRANCIS LOCKHART
THE UNITED AMATEUR FEBRUARY 1916
The Teuton's Battle-Song
”Omnis erat vulnus unda Terra rubefacta calido Frendebat gladius in loricas Gladius findebat clypeos-- Non retrocedat vir a viro Hoc fuit viri fortis n.o.bilitas diu-- Laetus cerevisiam c.u.m Asis In summa sede bibam Vitae elapsae sunt horae Ridens moriar.”
--REGNER LODBROG
The mighty Woden laughs upon his throne, And once more claims his children for his own.
The voice of Thor resounds again on high, While arm'd Valkyries ride from out the sky: The G.o.ds of Asgard all their pow'rs release To rouse the dullard from his dream of peace.
Awake! ye hypocrites, and deign to scan The actions of your ”brotherhood of Man.”
Could your shrill pipings in the race impair The warlike impulse put by Nature there?
Where now the gentle maxims of the school, The cant of preachers, and the Golden Rule?
What feeble word or doctrine now can stay The tribe whose fathers own'd Valhalla's sway?
Too long restrain'd, the b.l.o.o.d.y tempest breaks, And Midgard 'neath the tread of warriors shakes.
On to thy death, Berserker bold! And try In acts of G.o.dlike bravery to die!
Who cares to find the heaven of the priest, When only warriors can with Woden feast?
The flesh of Sehrimnir, and the cup of mead, Are but for him who falls in martial deed: Yon luckless boor, that pa.s.sive meets his end, May never in Valhalla's court contend.
Slay, brothers, Slay! And bathe in crimson gore; Let Thor, triumphant, view the sport once more!
All other thoughts are fading in the mist, But to attack, or if attack'd, resist.
List, great Alfadur, to the clash of steel; How like a man does each brave swordsman feel!
The cries of pain, the roars of rampant rage, In one vast symphony our ears engage.
Strike! Strike him down! Whoever bars the way; Let each kill many ere he die today!