Because their roots descend into the dark mysterious
underground and draw sustenance from the dead, Lovecraft sees trees as
unwholesome and ensnaring. Not for him
is the more universal view of trees as a symbol of life, wisdom, growth and
resurrection—no “Tree of Life”, nor even “the tree of the knowledge of good and
evil.”
Despite his fascination with pre-Christian religions and
pagan rituals, Lovecraft rarely if ever included trees, as the pagans
frequently did in their ceremonies thousands of years ago. For example, oaks were favored by the Druids
and by Germanic pagans as part of their religious practices. Lovecraft favored megalithic circles of stones and
altars installed in the “high places”—so often condemned by Old Testament
prophets—or else subterranean edifices for secret, nameless rites. But not trees.
However, he departs from his usual perception of trees in
an interesting—and odd—short story
called, appropriately, The Tree,
originally published in 1921. It is
written in a form that resembles a fable by Aesop, except that moral
instruction is not so much in view as human depravity. A Latin phrase opens the tale: ‘Fata viam invenient.’ That is, ‘the Fates will find a way.’ Lovecraft’s enthusiasm for ancient Greek
culture pervades the story, which is set “on a verdant slope of Mount Maenalas,
in Arcadia…”
Two friends, both sculptors, live together in “brotherly
love” despite their widely differing personalities. Musides is the more outgoing of the two, and
enjoys the local night life, while Kalos likes to wander the nearby olive
groves alone, communing with the local spirits.
In other words, Kalos is Lovecraft himself, circa 500-600 B.C. It is interesting that Lovecraft sets this
story in ancient Greece, where such a close relationship between two men would
be less remarkable than it was in his own day.
In the description of the two sculptors, one can perceive an echo of
Randolph Carter’s petulant comment in The
Statement of Randolph Carter: “Warren
always dominated me, and sometimes I feared him.”
The Tyrant of Syracuse commissions both men to compete
against each other in designing a new statue of Tyché for his city. Tyché is the Greek goddess of wealth and
prosperity, associated with luck and good fortune. Both men commence working on their designs,
sharing their ideas with each other but with no one else. Kalos eventually becomes ill and slowly dies,
despite his friend’s care and ministrations.
Before he passes, Kalos asks Musides to plant twigs from certain olive
trees close to his head where he is to be buried, and Musides carries out this
request.
Musides goes on to complete the statue of Tyché, which
takes several years. Meanwhile, one of the
twigs he planted by Kalos’ head has grown into an enormous human shaped tree,
with one large branch ominously hanging over the home and workplace of
Musides. Just as he is about to display
his work to emissaries of the Tyrant, a strange storm brings the gigantic olive
branch down on both the statue and Musides, destroying them both.
The story is odd because
of the disconnection between the characters’ motivations and feelings for each other—at
least their official ones—and the outcome at the end. Were they really all that affectionate toward
each other, or were Musides and Kalos driven by cold competition? Why did Kalos suddenly decline and perish
before the completion of the contest?
Was Musides murdered from beyond the grave by an envious arboreal Kalos? And finally, given that the statue is of the goddess
of wealth, is this an expression of Lovecraft’s failure to achieve prosperity
and fame? The story does not clearly
answer any of these questions, which makes it all the more haunting and
disturbing.
Lovecraft published a short poem of five verses called The Wood later on, in 1929. It is interesting, though not especially
effective. A vague story is told of how
an ancient forest is cleared to make way for a city. The city prospers until a drunken minstrel
inadvertently invokes an ancient curse, which destroys the city and restores
the primal landscape. The moral appears
in the last verse: “Forests may fall,
but not the dusk they shield…” In The
Wood it is not so much the trees that are to be feared but the darkness
they may conceal. It is too bad that
Lovecraft did not develop this interesting idea further.
Probably for Lovecraft, the most disturbing and
problematic woodland species was his own family
tree, in particular, the branch of it that he occupied. Was this that very branch held threateningly
above the sculptor’s doomed celebration of Tyché, goddess of wealth?
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