“But what shall he who has a Gateway do but pass through it? Is it not better to leave the Gateway behind —unless he dare go through it?”
The image
of a gateway through which the curious or adventurous can pass into other times
and dimensions is very common in horror, science fiction and fantasy
stories. The origin of the idea is
probably ancient and perhaps connected with religious practice—going through
the gateway is always transformative in some way. The threshold may take the form of an actual
gate, but other possibilities are a doorway, arch, tunnel, picture, pool of
water, or mirror—reflective surfaces especially lend themselves to this purpose.
The Stargate franchise is probably one of
the more familiar contemporary examples of this notion. A classic episode of the original Star Trek written by Harlan Ellison
employs this device, (“The City on the Edge of Forever”, 1967.) The Hellraiser
franchise offers a much darker use of the concept. Readers can probably supply many more
examples of ‘gateways’ from fiction, TV and film.
In A.
Merritt’s Through the Dragon Glass
(1917), the gateway is an oval of polished stone surrounded by an ornate frame
depicting dragons and a strange landscape.
This story was published in the All-Story
Weekly, a Munsey magazine and a predecessor of Weird Tales. It preceded
Merritt’s best known story, The Moon Pool
by a year. There are interesting
similarities between the two tales. As
with H.P. Lovecraft, the author seems to perseverate on certain ideas and
images, to which he returns in various ways across stories. Merritt seems unusually interested in the
moon, the number 7, and the color green.
Well
connected white adventurer James Herndon takes advantage of the Boxer Rebellion
in China to raid the Forbidden City of its treasures. (Between 1899 and 1901, a group of Chinese
nationalists attempted unsuccessfully to drive out western powers, who
subsequently captured the capitol city of Beijing and looted it.) Herndon becomes a millionaire with what he
steals from the Forbidden City. While
there, he and his associates break into a secret room containing various
artifacts and a mural depicting the legend of a mysterious “wonder-worker”. He takes back with him a strange item he
calls ‘the Dragon Glass’.
Not
long after returning to New York, he suddenly vanishes but then reappears, “his
body mauled as though by a tiger.” He
tells his friend Ward of his adventures, which involve the use of ‘the Dragon
Glass’ as a portal to a beautiful but treacherous land, ruled by a god-like
wonder-worker named Rak. There is a
woman there that he has fallen in love with—Santhu—and he must go back and
rescue her.
As in
The People of the Pit, the story is
muddied by overuse of obscure metaphors, which seems to be a stylistic habit of the
author. When Herndon encounters the
wonder-worker, (who created the paradisiacal landscape and the portal to it),
his eyes are described as “yellow
as buttercups, or as the sunstone on the crest of the Feathered Serpent they
worship down in the Hidden Temple of Tuloon.” That is
pretty yellow in my book.
Santhu’s
eyes on the other hand are "as blue as the corn flowers, as blue as the
big sapphire that shines in the forehead of Vishnu, in his temple at Benares.” That’s pretty blue. More importantly, she is “lithe and slender and yielding as the reeds that grow before
the Shrine of Hathor that stands on the edge of the Pool of Djeeba.” That is pretty lithe, and, well…yielding.
Yet to
be fair, a strength of Merritt’s writing is his vivid, detailed description of
important scenes and subjects in his narratives. More so than many other pulp fiction writers,
one can visualize the things he describes.
He provides a more sensory and sensual experience for the reader than is
typical from many of his contemporaries.
Only H.P. Lovecraft can compete with Merritt in the creation of strange
and foreboding settings and atmospheres. Another asset is his enthusiasm for
personifying and wrestling with big philosophical and theological ideas. He can be thought provoking at times—if a
little ‘off the wall’.
Theology
appears to have been an interest of Merritt’s.
As Herndon is telling his friend Ward of his experiences on the other
side of ‘the Dragon Glass’, there is an explanation of an elaborate mythology
and cosmos. It involves the creation of
world illumined by seven moons that ensnares souls from earth in countless
cycles of reincarnation. A dragon guards
this world, and is Herndon’s principle adversary when he tries to escape and later
when he attempts to rescue Santhu.
And
what is it with the number seven?
Moonlight? The color green? These three elements also appeared in various
combinations in the two stories discussed in the previous posts. The Moon
Pool and Through the Dragon Glass
were produced earlier in the author’s career, and relatively close in time,
which may account for the similar imagery.
But The Last Poet and the Robots was published
over a decade later, and still contains a strong echo of this imagery. In all Merritt’s stories discussed so far,
there is also the concept of emanations, vibrations or projections that
simultaneously attract and destroy. Patterns
like this are fascinating to find—even more so when they occur across the work of several contemporaneous
writers. What was in their heads?
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