Except
for a few remarkable exceptions, most of the stories H.P. Lovecraft produced in
collaboration with others were of low quality and have not endured. Nevertheless they are interesting pieces
because they often contain elements that prefigure or echo the content of his
better known work. One can see in these
joint efforts the gradual development and application of several of Lovecraft’s
ideas. It is fascinating, to compare
some of these collaborative projects with stories that were entirely Lovecraft’s
own. For example, there are interesting
similarities between Lovecraft’s The Music
of Erich Zann (1922) and the “secondary revision” he did with C.M. Eddy’s Deaf, Dumb and Blind (1925). The latter story also appears to have a
connection with a much later work by Lovecraft, his well known The Haunter of the Dark (1936).
C. M. Eddy,
Jr. published several stories in Weird
Tales in the mid-1920s. Some of the
other work that Eddy completed with Lovecraft’s help included Ashes, The Ghost Eater and a personal favorite, The Loved Dead, all published in 1924. (See also Lovecraft’s
Brush with Necrophilia.) S.T. Joshi
considers all four stories to be revisions and not collaborations—Lovecraft worked
with an already produced draft—but acknowledges the difficulty of separating Lovecraft’s
editing from his wholesale rewriting of the piece. The biographer reports that Lovecraft, being
a friend of Eddy and his wife, did not charge for his revision work and instead
had them both type some of his manuscripts as compensation. Eddy apparently typed Lovecraft’s The Hound (1924) in exchange for
Lovecraft’s revision work on The Ghost
Eater.
Deaf, Dumb and Blind is a pre-Mythos story. At this point in his career Lovecraft was
just beginning to develop concepts that would eventually coalesce into what
some would later call his Cthulhu Mythos.
There is no mention of the Great Old Ones or unholy scriptures like the Necronomicon. But Lovecraft enthusiasts will observe a
number of other familiar Lovecraftian motifs.
The
story opens with the discovery of a dead man in an isolated cottage sitting at
the edge of swamp. Horror readers know
intuitively that the psycho-geography of such a location—on a border where
solid land dissolves into a mysterious aquatic realm—indicates that something is going to cross over that
thin, transitional space and upset the familiar routine. The cottage is “the old Tanner home”, occupied
long ago by Simeon Tanner, whose secretive habits frightened his neighbors for
many years. Tanner’s body had to be burned back in 1819 because of some
disturbing physical abnormalities. These
are dismissed by Dr. Morehouse, one of the investigators:
…for
trifling bony protuberances on the fore part of the skull are of no
significance, and often observable in bald-headed men.
Especially
if they are inhabited by demons. Some helpful
backstory is provided: the Tanner family
had an ancestor who was hanged as a witch in Salem back in 1692. It is also disclosed that a grandfather of
Dr. Morehouse participated in the incineration of Simeon Tanner’s remains about
a century earlier. The attention to family
interactions across history recalls similar elements in such Lovecraft tales as
The Lurking Fear (1923), The Rats in the Walls (1924), and Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and
His Family (1921), among others.
Lovecraft powerfully returns to this theme of doomed families in his
late career masterpiece The Case of
Charles Dexter Ward, published about four years after his death.
Several
of these stories, including the Eddy revision, were published at a very
difficult time in Lovecraft’s life, though likely were written earlier. The period saw his brief and unhappy marriage
to Sonia Greene, his disastrous move to New York City, and his humiliating
return to Providence to live again with his aunts. Was this fictional preoccupation with the
terrors of family history an expression of Lovecraft’s own anxiety about his
troubled past and uncertain future?
Richard
Blake, the current occupant the old Tanner home is discovered to be dead and in
a dreadful physical condition. Blake was
a scholar and veteran of World War I, whose battle injuries left him “deaf, dumb
and blind”, but perhaps with a heightened sensitivity to other phenomena. The shocking state of his body, the
disquieting report of the servant who fled the house in panic, and the contents
of the last few pages of a manuscript Blake had been working on are so horrifying
that Dr. Morehead suffers a nervous breakdown.
He later attempts to obliterate all trace of the incident and its awful
implications. The second half of the story
is the presentation of Blake’s manuscript, which hints at but does not explain
what finally happened to him.
Lovecraft
readers may suspect that the Richard
Blake of Deaf, Dumb and Blind is
related somehow to Robert Blake, who
perished in a similar fashion in The Haunter
of the Dark (1936). Both men died while
writing, their last words a series of staggered phrases of “perfervid free
association”, as S.T. Joshi terms it.
Eddy’s story is marred by conventional hellfire and satanic imagery at the
very end, which is also how an earlier collaboration between Lovecraft and Eddy,
The Loved Dead (1924),
concludes. Eddy seems enthusiastic about
having the protagonist of his stories dragged to hell at the end, like an
occult Don Giovanni. This is most
certainly not a contribution from
Lovecraft, who throughout his writings remained unimpressed with traditional
notions of justice, good and evil in horror. That
said, it is still not clear in Deaf, Dumb
and Blind why the noble and innocent Blake should suffer his particular
fate.
Another
Lovecraft character who died in the midst of plying his trade is of course the
doomed musician in The Music of Erich
Zann (1922). Blake keeps typing, and
Zann keeps playing his viola for several more measures, even though he is
already dead of fright. There are some
interesting similarities between the two stories. Both Mr. Zann and Mr. Blake are unable to
speak, which adds a poignancy to their demise.
Each experiences a terror that they cannot easily communicate to others. Mr. Blake is also blind and deaf, which would
seem to render him oblivious of any approaching horror. But the author has in mind a spiritual,
nonmaterial evil that Blake becomes intensely and unavoidably aware of.
Which terror
is nebulous and undefined, as was the case with Lovecraft’s tormented musician. In the case of The Music of Erich Zann, Joshi suspects that Lovecraft “did not
have a fully conceived understanding of what the central weird phenomenon of the
story is actually meant to be.” This
seems also to be the case in Deaf, Dumb
and Blind. It may be that both men
were still developing and crystalizing what it was they intended to frighten
their readers with.
Eddy
makes unfortunate overuse of alliteration to dramatize a diffuse approaching
horror—my favorite line in Deaf, Dumb and
Blind has to do with the “lecherous buzzing of bestial blowflies…Satanic
humming of libidinous bees…sibilant hissing of obscene reptiles…” Eddy also makes ample use of the
afore-mentioned “perfervid free association” and Lovecraft’s trademark italicization for dramatic emphasis.
There
is some pathos in the helplessness and terror of the disabled protagonist, and the
setting and back story make parts of Eddy’s story intriguing and
compelling. It appears as if there
should have been more—the piece seems fragmentary, and might have made an
interesting beginning or an episode in a longer work, perhaps even a novel. It might have been interesting to see the
character of Dr. Morehouse developed further as another “psychic detective”, a
popular character type in the pulp fiction of the time.
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