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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fantasy Fan, Volume 2, Number 4, December
+1934, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will
+have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using
+this eBook.
+
+Title: The Fantasy Fan, Volume 2, Number 4, December 1934
+ The Fan's Own Magazine
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Charles D. Hornig
+
+Release Date: Mar 30, 2021 [eBook #64961]
+
+Language: English
+
+Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed
+ Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FANTASY FAN, VOLUME 2,
+NUMBER 4, DECEMBER 1934 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+ Dedicated To Edgar Allan Poe
+
+ THE FANTASY FAN
+
+ THE FANS' OWN MAGAZINE
+
+ Published
+ Monthly
+
+ Editor: Charles D. Hornig
+ (Managing Editor: Wonder Stories)
+
+ 10 cents a copy
+ $1.00 per year
+
+ 137 West Grand Street,
+ Elizabeth, New Jersey
+
+ Volume 2
+ December, 1934
+ Number 4
+ Whole No. 16
+
+ [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any
+ evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+
+
+
+ NOTICE
+
+Due to increased printing costs, we find it no longer possible to
+continue our covers.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+ OUR READERS SAY
+
+We hope that this issue will give you a better appreciation of that
+father of the weird tale, Edgar Allan Poe. H. P. Lovecraft's article
+brings out many points in the ability of this immortal which have never
+been mentioned in his biographies.
+
+"The issues have been consistently pleasing. The September had the
+edge over the October number on account of variety."--Lester Anderson,
+Hayward, Calif.
+
+"I wish you to know that the idea of dedicating each issue is a very
+fine one. I hope you can keep on giving us such fine material that has
+never before seen print."--F. Lee Baldwin, Asotin, Wash.
+
+"Oh--hurray and other such expletives! It just tickled me pink to find
+some more of H. P. Lovecraft's works 'Fungi from Yuggoth,' 'Tis many a
+long year I've been waiting to find more of them."--Gertrude Hemken,
+Chicago, Ill.
+
+"I am extremely glad to see the new TFF, which manages to hold much
+of interest despite the space I use up. As I said before, I surely
+appreciate the courtesy of the dedication. I shall be anxious to see
+the coming Smith and Poe numbers."--H. P. Lovecraft, Providence, R. I.
+
+"Congratulations on the new and greatly improved appearance of TFF. The
+new cover adds its dignity."--Richard Ely Morse, Washington, D. C.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+ WEIRD WHISPERINGS
+
+ by Schwartz and Weisinger
+
+_Horror Stories_, a companion weird magazine to _Terror Tales_, will
+appear in the middle of December.... The Winford Publications' weird
+magazine forecast in this column some months ago made its bow in
+November under the title, _Mystery Novels Magazine, Weird! Strange!!
+Unusual!!!_ To judge from the first issue there will appear a complete
+book-length novel in each number, to be accompanied by three or four
+weird-mystery yarns.... Edmond Hamilton deserts science fiction in
+the February _Weird Tales_ for a crime story, called "Murder in the
+Grave".... Clark Ashton Smith does a lot of drawing for his own
+amusement, mostly heads of supernatural creatures. One very good one
+shows an old man with an elephant's trunk for a nose, ending in the
+head of a snake.
+
+A strange and unusual twist to stories about radio will be given in
+a new story by the author of "Vampires of the Moon," A. W. Bernal,
+titled "The Man who was Two Men".... _Tales of Magic and Mystery_, a
+short lived weird magazine, published a few yarns by Frank Owen, and an
+exceptionally good H. P. Lovecraft story, "Cool Air".... An ingenious
+tale of the distant future, dealing with mechanical companions and
+synthetic love, written by Frank Belknap Long, Jr., and entitled "The
+Body Masters," will be one of the highlights of the February WT.
+
+For the past few years the Philip Allan & Co., Ltd., of London, has
+been publishing a collection of weird tale books under the title, The
+Creeps Series, a Collection of Uneasy Tales. Included in the series
+so far are: "Powers of Darkness," "Panics," "Monsters," "Nightmares,"
+"Mysteries of Asia," (by Achmed Abdullah), "Quakes," "Horrors,"
+"Terrors," "Devil's Drums," "Veils of Fear," "The Strange Papers of Dr.
+Blayre," and now in preparation, "Tales of the Grotesque." The books
+contain about 12 stories, each of a distinctly weird nature by such
+authors as Tod Robbins, Elliott O'Donnell, H. R. Wakefield, Douglas
+Newton, and others. Every year, too, appears a "Not at Night" series,
+edited by Christine Campbell Thomson, containing a collection of the
+best weird stories published during the year, the majority being from
+_Weird Tales_.
+
+Paul Ernst's three part novel, "Rulers of the Future," relating what
+the world will be like millions of years from now, and carrying the
+heroes of the story thru the whole universe with the speed of light,
+will be published starting with the January _Weird Tales_.... "The
+Red Room," by H. G. Wells, is the most often plagiarized weird story,
+according to Farnsworth Wright, and "The Damned Thing," by Bierce is
+another plot often seized upon.... In the February _Weird_ will appear
+the first of Seabury Quinn's new series dealing with Thomas Eldridge
+Carter, investigator for the Grand Central Life Assurance Company,
+called "The Web of Living Death."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+ SUPERNATURAL HORROR IN LITERATURE
+
+ by H. P. Lovecraft
+
+ (copyright 1927 by W. Paul Cook)
+
+ Part Fifteen
+
+ VII. Edgar Allan Poe
+
+In the eighteen-thirties occurred a literary dawn directly affecting
+not only the history of the weird tale, but that of short fiction as
+a whole; and indirectly moulding the trends and fortunes of a great
+European aesthetic school. It is our good fortune as Americans to be
+able to claim that dawn as our own, for it came in the person of our
+illustrious and unfortunate fellow-countryman Edgar Allan Poe. Poe's
+fame has been subject to curious undulations, and it is now a fashion
+amongst the "advanced intelligentsia" to minimise his importance both
+as an artist and as an influence; but it would be hard for any mature
+and reflective critic to deny the tremendous value of his work and the
+pervasive potency of his mind as an opener of artistic vistas. True,
+his type of outlook may have been anticipated; but it was he who first
+realized its possibilities and gave it supreme form and systematic
+expression. True also, that subsequent writers may have produced
+greater single tales than his; but again we must comprehend that it
+was only he who taught them by example and precept the art which they,
+having the way cleared for them and given an explicit guide, were
+perhaps able to carry to greater lengths. Whatever his limitations, Poe
+did that which no one else ever did or could have done; and to him we
+owe the modern-story in its final and perfected state.
+
+Before Poe the bulk of weird writers had worked largely in the dark;
+without an understanding of the psychological basis of the horror
+appeal, and hampered by more or less of conformity to certain empty
+literary conventions such as the happy ending, virtue rewarded, and in
+general a hollow moral didacticism, acceptance of popular standards and
+values, and striving of the author to obtrude his own emotions into the
+story and take sides with the partisans of the majority's artificial
+ideals. Poe, on the other hand, perceived the essential impersonality
+of the real artist; and knew that the function of creative fiction
+is merely to express and interpret events and sensations as they
+are, regardless of how they tend or what they prove--good or evil,
+attractive or repulsive, stimulating or depressing, with the author
+always acting as a vivid and detached chronicler rather than as a
+teacher, sympathiser, or vendor of opinion. He saw clearly that all
+phases of life and thought are equally eligible as subject matter for
+the artist, and being inclined by temperament to strangeness and gloom,
+decided to be the interpreter of those powerful feelings and frequent
+happenings which attend pain rather than pleasure, decay rather than
+growth, terror rather than tranquility, and which are fundamentally
+either adverse or indifferent to the tastes and traditional outward
+sentiments of mankind, and to the health, sanity, and normal expansive
+welfare of the species.
+
+Poe's spectres thus acquired a convincing malignity possessed by none
+of their predecessors, and established a new standard of realism in
+the annals of literary horror. The impersonal and artistic intent,
+moreover, was aided by a scientific attitude not often found before;
+whereby Poe studied the human mind rather than the usages of Gothic
+fiction, and worked with an analytical knowledge of terror's true
+sources which doubled the force of his narratives and emancipated
+him from all the absurdities inherent in merely conventional
+shudder-coining. This example having been set, later authors were
+naturally forced to conform to it in order to compete at all; so that
+in this way a definite change began to affect the main stream of
+macabre writing. Poe, too, set a fashion in consummate craftmanship;
+and although today some of his own work seems slightly melodramatic
+and unsophisticated, we can constantly trace his influence in such
+things as the maintenance of a single mood and achievement of a single
+impression in a tale, and the rigorous paring down of incidents to such
+as have a direct bearing on the plot and will figure prominently in
+the climax. Truly may it be said that Poe invented the short story in
+its present form. His elevation of disease, perversity, and decay to
+the level of artistically expressible themes was likewise infinitely
+far-reaching in effect; for avidly seized, sponsored, and intensified
+by his eminent French admirer Charles Pierre Baudelaire, it became the
+nucleus of the principal aesthetic movements in France, thus making Poe
+in a sense the father of the Decadents and the Symbolists.
+
+Poet and critic by nature and supreme attainment, logician and
+philosopher by taste and mannerism, Poe was by no means immune from
+defects and affectations. His pretence to profound and obscure
+scholarship, his blundering ventures in stilted and laboured
+pseudo-humorous, and his often vitriolic outbursts of critical
+prejudices must all be recognized and forgiven. Beyond and above them,
+dwarfing them to insignificance, was a master's vision of the terror
+that stalks about and within us, and the worm that writhes and slavers
+in the hideously close abyss. Penetrating to every festering horror in
+the gaily painted mockery called existence, that vision had power to
+project itself in marvelous crystallisations and transmutations; till
+there bloomed in the sterile America of the thirties and forties such a
+moon-nourished garden of gorgeous poison fungi as not even the nether
+slope of Saturn had known in the days of the unutterable blasphemies.
+Verses and tales alike sustain the burden of cosmic panic. The raven
+whose noisome beak pierces the heart, the ghouls that toll iron bells
+in pestilential steeples, the vault of Ulalume in the black October
+night, the shocking spires and cones under the sea, the "wild, weird
+clime that lieth, sublime, out of Space--out of Time"--all these
+things and more leer at us amidst maniacal rattlings in the seething
+nightmare of the poetry. And in the prose there yawn open for us the
+very jaws of the pit--inconceivable abnormalities slyly hinted into
+a horrible half-knowledge by words whose innocence we scarcely doubt
+till the cracked tension of the speaker's hollow voice bids us fear
+their nameless implications; demoniac patterns and presences slumbering
+noxiously till waked for one phobic instant into a shrieking revelation
+that cackles itself to sudden madness or explodes in memorable and
+cataclysmic echoes. A Witches' Sabbath of horror flinging off decorous
+robes is flashed before us--a sight the more monstrous because of the
+scientific skill with which every particular is marshalled and brought
+into an easy apparent relation to the known gruesomeness of material
+life.
+
+Poe's tales, of course, fall into several classes; some of which
+contain a purer essence of spiritual horror than others. The tales of
+logic and ratiocination, forerunners of the modern detective story, are
+not to be included at all in weird literature; whilst certain others,
+probably influenced considerably by Hoffman, possess an extravagance
+which relegates them to the borderline of the grotesque. Still a third
+group deal with abnormal psychology and monomania in such a way as to
+express terror but not weirdness. A substantial residuum, however,
+represents the literature of supernatural horror in the acutest form;
+and give their author a permanent and unassailable place as deity
+and fountain-head of all modern diabolic fiction. Who can forget the
+terrible swollen ship poised on the billow-chasm's edge in "Ms. Found
+in a Bottle"--the dark intimations of her unhallowed age and monstrous
+growth, her sinister crew of unseeing greybeards, and her frightful
+southward rush under full sail thru the ice of the Antarctic night,
+sucked onward by some resistless devil-current toward a vortex of
+eldritch enlightenment which must end in destruction?
+
+Then there is the unutterable "M. Valdemar," kept together by hypnotism
+for seven months after his death, and uttering frantic sounds but a
+moment before the breaking of the spell leaves him "a nearly liquid
+mass of loathsome, of detestable putrescence." In the "Narrative of
+A. Gordon Pym" the voyagers reach first a strange south polar land of
+murderous savages where nothing is white and where vast rocky ravings
+have the form of titanic Egyptian letters spelling terrible primal
+arcana of earth; and thereafter a still more mysterious realm where
+everything is white, and where shrouded giants and snowy-plumed birds
+guard a cryptic cataract of mist which empties from immeasurable
+celestial heights into a torrid milky sea. "Metzengerstein" horrifies
+with its malign hints of a monstrous metempsychosis--the mad nobleman
+who burns the stable of his hereditary foe; the colossal unknown horse
+that issues from the blazing building after the owner has perished
+therein; the vanishing bit of ancient tapestry where was shown the
+giant horse of the victim's ancestor in the Crusade's; the madman's
+wild and constant riding on the great horse, and his fear and hatred
+of the steed; the meaningless prophecies that brood obscurely over the
+warring houses; and finally, the burning of the madman's palace and
+the death therein of the owner, borne helpless into the flames and
+up the vast staircase astride the beast he has ridden so strangely.
+Afterward the rising smoke of the ruins takes the form of a gigantic
+horse. "The Man of the Crowd," telling of one who roams day and night
+to mingle with streams of people as if afraid to be alone, has quieter
+effects, but implies nothing less of cosmic fear. Poe's mind was
+never far from terror and decay, and we see in every tale, poem, and
+philosophical dialogue, a tense eagerness to fathom unplumbed wells of
+night, to pierce the veil of death, and to reign in fancy as lord of
+the frightful mysteries of time and space.
+
+Certain of Poe's tales possess an almost absolute perfection of
+artistic form which makes them veritable beacon-lights in the province
+of the short story. Poe could, when he wished, give to his prose a
+richly poetic cast; employing that archaic and Orientalised style with
+jeweled phrase, quasi-Biblical repetition, and recurrent burthen so
+successfully used by later writers like Oscar Wilde and Lord Dunsany;
+and in the cases where he has done this we have an effect of lyrical
+phantasy almost narcotic in essence--an opium pageant of dream in the
+language of dream, with every unnatural colour and grotesque image
+bodied forth in a symphony of corresponding sound. "The Masque of the
+Red Death," "Silence, a Fable," and "Shadow, a Parable," are assuredly
+poems in every sense of the word save the metrical one and owe as much
+of their power to aural cadence as to visual imagery. But it is in two
+of the less openly poetic tales, "Ligeia," and "The Fall of the House
+of Usher,"--especially the latter--that one finds those very summits
+of artistry whereby Poe takes his place at the head of fictional
+miniaturists. Simple and straight-forward in plot, both of these tales
+owe their supreme magic to the cunning development which appears in the
+selection and collocation of every least incident. "Ligeia" tells of
+a first wife of lofty and mysterious origin, who after death returns
+through a preternatural force of will to take possession of the body of
+a second wife; imposing even her physical appearance on the temporary
+reanimated corpse of her victim at the last moment. Despite a suspicion
+of prolixity and topheaviness, the narrative reaches its terrific
+climax with relentless power. "Usher," whose superiority in detail
+and proportion is very marked, hints shudderingly of obscure life in
+inorganic things, and displays an abnormally linked trinity of entities
+at the end of a long and isolated family history--a brother, his twin
+sister, and their incredibly ancient house all sharing a single soul
+and meeting one common dissolution at the same moment.
+
+These bizarre conceptions, so awkward in unskillful hands, become under
+Poe's spell living and convincing terrors to haunt our nights; and
+all because the author understood so perfectly the very mechanics and
+physiology of fear and strangeness--the essential details to emphasise,
+the precise incongruities and conceits to select as preliminaries or
+concomitants to horror, the exact incidents and allusions to throw
+out innocently in advance as symbols or prefigurings of each major
+step toward the hideous denouement to come, the nice adjustments of
+cumulative force and the unerring accuracy in linkage of parts which
+make for faultless unity throughout and thunderous effectiveness at the
+climactic moment, the delicate nuances of scenic and landscape value to
+select in establishing and sustaining the desired mood and vitalising
+the desired illusion--principles of this kind, and dozens of obscurer
+ones too elusive to be described or even fully comprehended by any
+ordinary commentator. Melodrama and unsophistication there may be--we
+are told of one fastidious Frenchman who could not bear to read Poe
+except in Baudelaire's urbane and Gallically modulated translation--but
+all traces of such things are wholly overshadowed by a potent and
+inborn sense of the spectral, the morbid, and the horrible which gushed
+forth from every cell of the artist's creative mentality and stamped
+his macabre work with the ineffaceable mark of supreme genius. Poe's
+weird tales are _alive_ in a manner that few others can ever hope to be.
+
+Like most fantaisistes, Poe excels in incidents and broad narrative
+effects rather than in character drawing. His typical protagonist is
+generally a dark, handsome, proud, melancholy, intellectual, highly
+sensitive, capricious, introspective, isolated, and sometimes slightly
+mad gentleman of ancient family and opulent circumstances; usually
+deeply learned in strange lore, and darkly ambitious of penetrating to
+forbidden secrets of the universe. Aside from a high-sounding name,
+this character obviously derives little from the early Gothic novel;
+for he is clearly neither the wooden hero nor the diabolical villain
+of Radcliffian or Ludovician romance. Indirectly, however, he does
+possess a sort of genealogical connexion; since his gloomy, ambition
+and anti-social qualities savour strongly of the typical Byronic
+hero, who in turn is definitely an off-spring of the Gothic Manfreds,
+Montonis, and Ambrosios. More particular qualities appear to be derived
+from the psychology of Poe himself, who certainly possessed much of the
+depression, sensitiveness, mad aspiration, loneliness, and extravagant
+freakishness which he attributes to his haughty and solitary victims of
+Fate.
+
+(Part Sixteen next month deals with the eighth section of this article,
+"The Weird Tradition in America," dealing mostly with Nathaniel
+Hawthorne and his comparison with Poe. Don't miss it.)
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+ THE FAVORITE WEIRD STORIES OF CLARK ASHTON SMITH
+
+ (Courtesy of H. Koenig)
+
+ "The Yellow Sign" by Chambers
+ "The House of Sounds" by Shiel
+ "The Willows" by Blackwood
+ "A View from a Hill" by James
+ "The Death of Halpin Frayser" by Bierce
+ "The House of Usher" by Poe
+ "The Masque of Red Death" by Poe
+ "The White Powder" by Machen
+ "The Call of Cthulhu" by Lovecraft
+ "The Colour out of Space"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+ WILLIAM HOPE HODGSON
+
+ by H. Koenig
+
+A few years ago Faber and Faber published an anthology of ghost
+stories chosen by Colin de la Mare under the title "They Walk Again."
+Most of the stories included in this splendid anthology were by
+well-known writers such as Blackwood, Dunsany, and Bierce and many of
+the stories were familiar ones--"The Monkey's Paw," "Green Tea" and
+"The Ghost Ship." However, one new story was included in the book; one
+comparatively new face appeared among all the old familiar ones. The
+story was "The Voice in the Night" a horrifying and yet pathetic tale
+of human beings turned into a fungoid growth; the author is William
+Hope Hodgson.
+
+Except perhaps for a few of the older readers of weird stories, the
+name of Hodgson will mean nothing, and yet twenty-five years ago
+Hodgson wrote a number of books which compare very favorably with any
+of our modern weird stories, books which rank high in the fantasy
+field and which deserve more popularity and publicity than they ever
+received. Five of his books should be read by all weird story lovers:
+"The Boats of the Glen Carrig" 1907, "The House on the Borderland"
+1908, "The Night Land" 1912, and "Carnacki, The Ghost Finder" 1913.
+
+The first three books form (in Hodgson's words) "what perhaps may be
+termed a trilogy; for though very different in scope, each of the
+three books deals with certain conceptions that have an elemental
+kinship." A few chapter headings will give some idea of the treat in
+store for fantasy fans fortunate enough to locate these books--"The
+Thing that Made Search," "The Island in the Weed," "The Noise in the
+Valley," "The Weed Men," "The Thing in the Pit," "The Swing Things,"
+etc.
+
+"The Night Land" is one of the longest fantastic romances ever written,
+running close to six hundred pages. It is a story of the world in the
+future when the sun has died and the "Last Millions" are living in a
+large redoubt, a huge pyramid of gray metal nearly eight miles high
+and five miles around the base. Beyond the pyramid were mighty races
+of terrible creatures, half-beast and half-man, night hounds monstrous
+slugs, and other horrible monsters. As a protection against all these
+evils a great electric circle was put about the pyramid and lit from
+the Earth Current. It bounded the pyramid for a mile on each side and
+none of the monsters were able to cross it due to a subtle vibration
+which affected their brains.
+
+"Carnacki, The Ghost Finder" is a series of six short ghost stories in
+which Carnacki investigates ghostly phenomena in various homes. One or
+two of the tales are somewhat weakened by a natural explanation of the
+ghosts, but each of the stories is well worth reading.
+
+Hodgson's tales may well have served as source books for many of the
+stories now being read in our present day pulp magazines. The whole
+range of weird and fantastic plots appears to have been covered in the
+five books listed previously--pig-men, elementals, human trees, ghosts,
+sea of weeds, thought-transference, intelligent slugs, and in "The
+Night Land" the men are equipped with a hand weapon called a Diskos.
+This consists of a disk of gray metal which spins in the end of a metal
+rod, is charged from earth currents and capable of cutting people in
+two.
+
+Unfortunately, there is practically no bibliographical data concerning
+Hodgson available. Even his old publishers are unable to supply
+any information except a meager list of some of his books and the
+regrettable fact that he was killed during the war.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+ The Sorcery of Aphlar
+
+ by Duane W. Rimel
+
+The council of twelve seated on the jeweled celestial dais ordered that
+Aphlar be cast from the gates of Bel-haz-en. He sat too much alone,
+they decreed, and brooded when toil should have been his lot. And
+in his obscure and hidden delvings he read all too frequently those
+papyri of Elder æons which reposed in the Gothic shrine and were to be
+consulted only for rare and special purposes.
+
+The twilight city of Bel-haz-en had climbed backward in its knowledge.
+No longer did philosophers sit upon street corners speaking wise words
+to the populace, for stupid ignorance ruled within the crumbling
+and immemorially ancient walls. Where once the wisdom of the stars
+abounded, only feebleness and desolation now lay upon the place;
+spreading like a monstrous blight and sucking foul nurture from the
+stupid dwellers. And out of the waters of the Oll that meandered from
+the mountains of Azlakka to pass by the aged city, there rose often
+great clouds of pestilence that racked the people sorely, leaving them
+pale and near to dying. All this their loss of wisdom brought. And now
+the council had sent their last and greatest wise man from them.
+
+Aphlar wandered to the mountains far above the city and built a cavern
+for protection from the summer heat and winter chill. There he read his
+scrolls in silence and his mighty wisdom to the wind about the crags
+and to the swallows on the wing. All day he sat and watched below or
+drew queer drawings on small bits of stone and chanted to them, for he
+knew that some day men would seek the cave and slay him. The cunning
+of the twelve did not mislead him. Had not the last exiled wiseman's
+screams rent the night two moon-rounds before when people thought him
+safely gone?
+
+Had not his own eyes seen the priest's sword-slashed form floating by
+in the poison waters? He knew no lion had killed old Azik, let the
+council say what they might. Does a lion slash with a sword and leave
+his prey uneaten?
+
+Through many seasons Aphlar sat upon the mountain, gazing at the muddy
+Oll as it wound into the misty distance to the land where none ever
+ventured. He spoke his words of wisdom to the snails that worked in the
+ground by his feet. They seemed to understand, and waved their slimy
+feelers before they sank beneath the sand again. On moonlight nights
+he climbed the hill above his cave and made strange offerings to the
+moon-God Alo; and when the night-birds heard the sound they drew close
+and listened to the whispering. And when queer winged things flapped
+across the darkened sky and loomed up dimly against the moon Aphlar was
+content. Those which he had addressed had heeded his beckoning. His
+thoughts were always far away, and his prayers were offered to the pale
+fancies of dusk.
+
+Then one day past noontide Aphlar rose from his earthen chair and
+strode down the rock mountain-side. His eyes, heeding not the rotten,
+stone-walled city, held steadfastly to the river. When he drew near
+its muddy brink he paused and looked up the bosom of the stream. A
+small object floated near the rushes, and this Aphlar rescued with
+tender and curious care. Then, wrapping the thing in the folds of his
+robe, he climbed up again to his cave in the hills. All day he sat and
+gazed upon the object; rummaging now and then in his musty chronicles,
+and muttering awful syllables as he drew faint figures on a piece of
+parchment.
+
+That night the gibbous moon rose high, but Aphlar did not climb above
+his dwelling. Queer night-birds flew past the cavern's mouth, chirped
+eerily, and fled away into the shadows.
+
+Many days passed before the council sent their messengers of murder;
+but at last the time was thought ripe, and seven dark-browned men
+stole away to the hills. Yet when that grim seven ventured within the
+cave they saw not the wise man Aphlar. Instead, small blades of grass
+were sprouting in his natural chair of earth. All about lay papyri dim
+and musty, with faint figures drawn upon them. The seven shuddered
+and left forthwith when they beheld these things, but as the last man
+tremblingly withdrew he saw a round and unknown thing lying on the
+ground. He picked it up, and his fellows drew close in curiosity; but
+they saw upon it only alien symbols which they could not read, yet
+which made them shrink and quaver without knowing why. Then he who
+had found it cast it quickly over the steep precipice beside him, but
+no sound came from the slope below whereon it should have fallen. And
+the thrower trembled, fearing many things that are not known but only
+whispered about. Then, when he told how the sphere he had held was
+without the weight a thing of stone should have; how it was like to
+have floated on air as the thistledown floats; he and the six with him
+slunk as one from the spot and swore it was a place accursed.
+
+But after they had gone a snail crawled slowly from a sandy crevice and
+slid intently over to where the blades of grass were growing. And when
+it reached the spot, two slimy feelers stretched forth and bent oddly
+downward, as if eager to watch forever the winding river.
+
+ The End
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Subscribe to
+ THE FANTASY FAN
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+
+ PROSE PASTELS
+
+ by Clark Ashton Smith
+
+ _5. The Passing of Aphrodite_
+
+In all the lands of Illarion, from mountain-valleys rimmed with
+unmelting snow, to the great cliffs of sand whose reflex darkens a
+sleepy, tepid sea, were lit as of old the green and amethyst fires
+of summer. Spices were on the wind that mountaineers had met in the
+high glaciers; and the eldest wood of cypress, frowning on a sky-clear
+bay, was illumined by scarlet orchids.... But the heart of the poet
+Phaniol was an urn of black jade overfraught by love with sodden ashes.
+And because he wished to forget for a time the mockery of myrtles,
+Phaniol walked alone in the waste bordering upon Illarion; in a place
+that great fires had blackened long ago, and which knew not the pine
+or the violet, the cypress or the myrtle. There, as the day grew old,
+he came to an unsailed ocean, whose waters were dark and still under
+the falling sun, and bore not the memorial voices of other seas. And
+Phaniol paused, and lingered upon the ashen shore; and dreamt awhile of
+that sea whose name is Oblivion.
+
+Then, from beneath the westering sun, whose bleak light was prone on
+his forehead, a barge appeared and swiftly drew to the land: albeit
+there was no wind, and the oars hung idly on the foamless wave. And
+Phaniol saw that the barge was wrought of ebony fretted with curious
+anaglyphs, and carved with luxurious forms of gods and beasts, of
+satyrs and goddesses and women; and the figurehead was a black Eros
+with full unsmiling mouth and implacable sapphire eyes averted, as if
+intent upon things not lightly to be named or revealed. Upon the deck
+of the barge were two women, one pale as the northern moon, and the
+other swart as equatorial midnight. But both were clad imperially, and
+bore the mien of goddesses or of those who dwell near to the goddesses,
+without word or gesture, they regarded Phaniol; and, marvelling, he
+inquired, "What seek ye?"
+
+Then, with one voice that was like the voice of hesperian airs among
+palms at evening twilight in the Fortunate Isles, they answered, saying:
+
+"We wait the goddess Aphrodite, who departs in weariness and sorrow
+from Illarion, and from all the lands of this world of petty loves and
+pettier mortalities. Thou, because thou art a poet, and hast known the
+great sovereignty of love, shall behold her departure. But they, the
+men of the court, the market-place and the temple, shall receive no
+message nor sign of her going-forth, and will scarcely dream that she
+is gone.... Now, O Phaniol, the time, the goddess and the going-forth
+are at hand."
+
+Even as they ceased, One came across the desert; and her coming was
+a light on the far hills; and where she trod the lengthening shadows
+shrunk, and the grey waste put on the purple asphodels and the deep
+verdure it had worn when those queens were young, that now are a
+darkening legend and a dust of mummia. Even to the shore she came and
+stood before Phaniol, while the sunset greatened, filling sky and
+sea with a flush as of new-blown blossoms, or the inmost rose of that
+coiling shell which was consecrate to her in old time. Without robe or
+circlet or garland, crowned and clad only with the sunset, fair with
+the dreams of man but fairer yet than all dreams: thus she waited,
+smiling tranquilly, who is life or death, despair or rapture, vision or
+flesh, to gods and poets and galaxies unknowable. But, filled with a
+wonder that was also love, or much more than love, the poet could find
+no greeting.
+
+"Farewell, O Phaniol," she said, and her voice was the sighing of
+remote waters, the murmur of waters moon-withdrawn, forsaking not
+without sorrow a proud island tall with palms. "Thou hast known me
+and worshipped all thy days till now, but the hour of my departure is
+come: I go, and when I am gone, thou shalt worship still and shalt
+not know me. For the destinies are thus, and not forever to any man,
+to any world or to any god, is it given to possess me wholly. Autumn
+and spring will return when I am past, the one with yellow leaves, the
+other with yellow violets; birds will haunt the renewing myrtles; and
+many little loves will be thine. Not again to thee or to any man will
+return the perfect vision and the perfect flesh of the goddess."
+
+Ending thus, she stepped from that ashen strand to the dark prow of the
+barge; and even as it had come, without wafture of wind or movement of
+oar, the barge put out on a sea covered with the fallen, fading petals
+of sunset. Quickly it vanished from view, while the desert lost those
+ancient asphodels and the deep verdure it had worn again for a little.
+Darkness, having conquered Illarion, came slow and furtive on the path
+of Aphrodite; shadows mustered innumerably to the grey hills; and the
+heart of the poet Phaniol was an urn of black jade overfraught by love
+with sodden ashes.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+ AN INTERVIEW WITH E. HOFFMANN PRICE
+
+ by Fred Anger & Louis C. Smith
+
+Author, linguist, world-traveller, automobile mechanic and cook--that,
+fantasy fans, is a fairly representative picture of E. Hoffmann Price!
+The Syrian quarters of Chicago and New York and the Old French Quarter
+of New Orleans are no strange places to this prolific author of weird
+stories and detective yarns; he is equally at home in the Philippines
+and in certain little-known sections of France. He is--but wait!--let's
+go about this in an orderly manner.
+
+Contrary to popular belief, E. Hoffmann Price did _not_ have his first
+story published in Weird Tales; his first was sold to "Droll Stories,"
+and brought him the magnificent sum of twenty-four dollars (he chuckles
+over it now). His first story in Weird Tales was "The Rajah's Gift"
+which appeared in January 1925; and from this time on, until his job
+as manager of an acetylene plant petered out, Price wrote exclusively
+for Weird Tales and Oriental Stories. Since the spring of 1932 he has
+devoted all his time to fictioneering.
+
+"The Sultan's Jest" his third story in the "Unique Magazine" was later
+reprinted in "The Sovereign Magazine" published in London.
+
+"The Lord of the Fourth Axis," in Weird Tales last year was revised
+three times before Farnsworth Wright accepted it. The strange, unique
+design for the rug which played so prominent part in this latter tale
+was suggested by a Turkestan prayer rug of unusual shape now hanging in
+the Chicago home of Editor Wright.
+
+The locale of the Pierre d'Artois stories is authentic: there is the
+city of Bayonne, France, and there Price lived for some time, visiting
+the underground chambers, soaking in the atmosphere of the place.
+Also in France, he visited the city of Lourdes where he obtained from
+several old legends, material for "Tarbis of the Lake."
+
+To "Strange Detective Stories" Price sold one of the Pierre d'Artois
+stories, which he considers the wildest story he has ever written.
+
+Material for "The Prophet's Grand-children" (W. T. October 1925) was
+picked up in the Philippines.
+
+Having sold every story in which a peacock was mentioned, Price quite
+naturally considers this beautiful bird the best of good luck emblems.
+But enough for the writings of E. Hoffmann Price! For the man himself:
+
+His favorite smoke is the _nargileh_ or water pipe; though on
+occasions he does relish a cigar or a cigarette rolled from Bull
+Durham tobacco.
+
+He speaks German, mangles French and Spanish, and gargles a smattering
+of Arabic.
+
+While in Oklahoma this spring, he salvaged sheet metal from an
+abandoned smokestack--welded the pieces together to make an automatic
+feed acetylene generator for a friend who owned a repair shop.
+
+He lived several years in "Le Vieux Carre"--that's creole for "Old
+French Quarter"--of New Orleans, which accounts for his frequent use
+of Crescent City atmosphere. He has been in the Philippines, Japan,
+Hawaii, Mexico, has covered France from end to end, and is at home in
+most parts of the States.
+
+Favorite dishes: Chili con Carne, East Indian Curry, and on state
+occasions, a capon stuffed with pistachios and basted with sherry
+until, when completely roasted, the fowl is coated with a high glaze
+of deep walnut color: the result being called "Varnished Vulture" by
+the crew of fictioneers who make Weird Tales Editorial Rooms their
+headquarters. And a close second to the foregoing is turtle stew,
+prepared according to an old Creole recipe.
+
+And, there, in a fragmentary, woefully incomplete way, you have E.
+Hoffmann Price: swell spinner of tall yarns, linguist, mechanic, cook
+par excellence--and in general a hell of a good fellow.
+
+Selah!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+ The Laughter of a Ghoul
+
+ by Robert Bloch
+
+Have you ever heard the laughter of a ghoul? Shrill and high, it
+rises and ululates with the cadence of a song from the Pit. Hearing
+it brings the soul closer to strange terrors and gives the listener
+vague glimpses into half-opened door-ways thru which no man should peer
+too closely. Once I heard that mocking laughter in the silence of the
+night, and since that evil-fated day the night has held neither silence
+nor surcease from the haunting memory of that mirth or madness. Ever it
+lurks and lingers in the shadows of my brain, till only thru expression
+of my torment can I hope to maintain my sanity in a world made hideous
+by the Nemesis of inescapable memory.
+
+In all the Rood-mass realms of Nightmare, there is nothing equalling in
+foulness that grim and fearful monster known to legend as the Ghoul.
+Accursed is he, and accursed the land burdened by his presence. In such
+a land I dwelt, lord of an ancient, remote line.
+
+Slithering secrets dwelt within the archaic avenues of the vast and
+sombre forest near my manor in the hills--secrets black and hideous,
+haunting and unspeakable, such as demonian presences mumble nightly in
+the aeon-dead abysses beyond the light of stars. Here in this forlorn
+realm of trickling tarns and baleful solitude my newly-wedded and
+beloved bride chanced one day to wander, as in rustic holiday. All
+unbeknowning, I spent the day in town, returning only as even-tide drew
+near. But she, my beloved, did not return, even with the coming of
+darkness.
+
+Then it was that the frightened servants who met me at the gate babbled
+that which sent me racing off, torch in hand, into the depths of the
+dream-wood looming so loathesomely in the unholy luminance of the
+autumn moon. Shrieking and cursing I went on, gibbering threats to the
+skies; but more dreadful still was my silence when at last I reached
+the end of my quest. Do not ask me how or where I found her. She was
+not dead, but she would have been better so after what It had done. She
+never spoke after I found her, and I do not think that she knew me. I
+pray that she did not. I carried her back to the manor and delivered
+her to the care of the servants. Then, with a score of retainers I
+returned again to the forest to do that which must be done, and to
+eradicate certain discoveries whose very existence was an insult to
+sanity. There were bloated trees to cut down, and creepers to be torn
+from the depths of nameless graves. There were curious holes to be
+blocked with massive stones and certain tracks and monstrous footprints
+over which the good curé must pronounce exorcism. There was another
+shrub-hidden cavern in the swamps containing grisly but unmistakable
+evidences of tenancy. One such place I entered alone and performed a
+deed with the long sword my grand-sire had wielded in the Orient. Then
+I collapsed, and was carried home upon a hastily-improvised litter of
+birchen branches, to toss for many weeks thereafter in the delirious
+agony of mocking, cacodemoniacal memory.
+
+After that I spent many days poring unceasingly over disquieting bits
+of ancient legendry concerning the forest and its ghastly presences,
+whilst awaiting the birth of my wife's child--for she, in a condition
+of unsensibility precluding her removal from the manor, was about to
+become a mother. And so slowly passed the dreary months of waiting and
+expectancy, whilst over all hung the shadow of an impinging dread.
+
+At last the day arrived when, as I brooded in my study, poring over the
+chronicle of a woodsman who had heard the pipes of Pan, the mid-wife
+came and gently touched me on the shoulder. In faltering accents she
+whispered that my wife was dead. I sat there dully for five endless
+minutes; then in a voice sepulchrally muted, I asked after my child.
+She led me silently into the room where dead mother and living infant
+lay.
+
+Yes, the child was alive, still is alive, but I will say no more. May
+the Ultimate Powers consign it--and the Fate that produced it--to
+everlasting torment! For it was when I entered that room where the dead
+mother and the living infant lay that I heard for the first time The
+LAUGHTER OF A GHOUL!
+
+The End
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+ LOST EXCERPTS
+
+ by Robert Nelson
+
+ _II. The Feast of the Centaurs_
+
+The enormous chamber was aflare with a myriad lamps. There were long
+tables covered with seemingly endless varieties of meats, wines,
+cheeses, birds, and other viands and edibles. Drunken centaurs carried
+other intoxicated centaurs across the tables trampling everything
+that came their way, causing both wrath and mirth to others. Wine was
+spilled heavily all about; and centaurs fell and grappled with one
+another on the lubricious earth. Two there were who fought for the
+possession of a fried grasshopper; and three belabored each other's
+heads with weighty stools. Some threw great platters of food from the
+tables and demanded more wine. And the exhalation that arose from the
+food and creatures became heavier; and the rejoicing and the swearing
+and debating of tongues increased.
+
+There were huge mirrors of multiplied convexity in the vast room and
+these seemed to enhance and sharpen the ebbing and flowing luminosity
+from the immense wax lights and bright vases. The mirrors caused much
+confusion among the inebriated and over-gorged creatures, for they
+crashed and careened with one another against the mirrors and cut
+themselves, and laughed and cursed at their own grotesque and misshapen
+likenesses.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+ SEABURY QUINN
+
+ A Brief Note
+
+While it is not generally known to his readers, many of whom believe
+him to be a physician, Seabury Quinn, author of the Jules de Grandin
+stories which have been popular with the readers of Weird Tales for
+ten years, holds the degrees of Bachelor and Master of Laws, being
+graduated from the National University Law School, Washington, D. C.,
+in 1910. From 1910 until his entry into the U. S. Army at the outbreak
+of the World War (Second Lieutenant, Infantry attached Intelligence
+Service) he practised law in the National Capital, specializing in
+criminal and personal injury cases, in which he acted principally as
+medico-legal consultant to other attorneys.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+ ADVERTISEMENTS
+ Rates: one cent per word
+ Minimum Charge, 25 cents
+
+Back Numbers of _The Fantasy Fan_: September, 1933, out of print; Oct.,
+Dec., 1933--Jan., Feb., Mar., May, June, Aug., Sept., Oct., 1934, 10
+cents each. Nov., 1933--Apr., July, 1934, 20 cents each.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+CLARK ASHTON SMITH presents THE DOUBLE SHADOW AND OTHER FANTASIES--a
+booklet containing a half-dozen imaginative and atmospheric
+tales--stories of exotic beauty, horror, terror, strangeness, irony and
+satire. Price: 25 cents each (coin or stamps). Also a small remainder
+of EBONY AND CRYSTAL--a book of prose-poems published at $2.00, reduced
+to $1.00 per copy. Everything sent postpaid. Clark Ashton Smith,
+Auburn, California.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+A. MERRITT'S New Fantasyarn, "The Drone," Donald Wandrei's short
+weirdthriller, "The Chuckler," Francis Flagg's glamorous "Moon
+Voyager's Speech," "The Horde of Elo Hava," by L. A. Eshbach. All for
+10 cents! SFDCOff, 87-36--162nd Street, Jamaica, N. Y.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+WANTED: Announcement circulars of _Unusual Stories_; September 1933
+_Fantasy Fan_. 50 Cents each. S-F Syndicate, 509 West 26th St., Austin,
+Texas.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+A CHRISTMAS GIFT! Why not give your fantasy-loving friends something
+for Christmas that they will long remember? Give them a subscription to
+THE FANTASY FAN! They will think of you as they receive their copies
+each month of the year.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FANTASY FAN, VOLUME 2, NUMBER
+4, DECEMBER 1934 ***
+
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+ The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fantasy Fan, by Charles D. Hornig.
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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.1em; font-weight:bold; margin-bottom:1em;'>
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fantasy Fan, Volume 2, Number 4, December 1934, by Various
+</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
+at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
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+</div>
+
+<div style='display:table;margin-bottom:1em;margin-top:1em;'>
+ <div style='display:table-row;'>
+ <div style='display:table-cell;padding-right:0.5em;'>Title:</div>
+ <div style='display:table-cell;'>The Fantasy Fan, Volume 2, Number 4, December 1934</div>
+ </div>
+ <div style='display:table-row;'>
+ <div style='display:table-cell;padding-right:0.5em;'></div>
+ <div style='display:table-cell;'>The Fan's Own Magazine</div>
+ </div>
+</div>
+ <div style='display:table-row;'>
+ <div style='display:table-cell;padding-right:0.5em;'>Author: </div>
+ <div style='display:table-cell;'>Various</div>
+ </div>
+<div style='height:10px'></div>
+ <div style='display:table-row;'>
+ <div style='display:table-cell;padding-right:0.5em;'>Editor: </div>
+ <div style='display:table-cell;'>Charles D. Hornig</div>
+ </div>
+
+<div style='height:10px'></div>
+
+<div style='margin-bottom:1em;'>
+Release Date: Mar 30, 2021 [eBook #64961]
+</div>
+
+<div style='margin-bottom:1em;'>
+Language: English
+</div>
+
+<div style='display:table;margin-bottom:1em;'>
+ <div style='display:table-row;'>
+ <div style='display:table-cell;vertical-align:top;'>Produced&nbsp;by:&nbsp;</div>
+ <div style='display:table-cell;'>Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</div>
+ </div>
+</div>
+
+<div style='margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG BOOK OF THE FANTASY FAN, VOLUME 2, NUMBER 4, DECEMBER 1934 ***</div>
+
+
+<div class="x-ebookmaker-drop figcenter">
+ <img src="images/title.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p class="ph1">[Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any<br />
+evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p>
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>NOTICE</h3>
+
+
+<p>Due to increased printing costs, we find it no longer possible to
+continue our covers.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h3>OUR READERS SAY</h3>
+
+<p>We hope that this issue will give you a better appreciation of that
+father of the weird tale, Edgar Allan Poe. H. P. Lovecraft's article
+brings out many points in the ability of this immortal which have never
+been mentioned in his biographies.</p>
+
+<p>"The issues have been consistently pleasing. The September had the
+edge over the October number on account of variety."&mdash;Lester Anderson,
+Hayward, Calif.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you to know that the idea of dedicating each issue is a very
+fine one. I hope you can keep on giving us such fine material that has
+never before seen print."&mdash;F. Lee Baldwin, Asotin, Wash.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;hurray and other such expletives! It just tickled me pink to find
+some more of H. P. Lovecraft's works 'Fungi from Yuggoth,' 'Tis many a
+long year I've been waiting to find more of them."&mdash;Gertrude Hemken,
+Chicago, Ill.</p>
+
+<p>"I am extremely glad to see the new TFF, which manages to hold much
+of interest despite the space I use up. As I said before, I surely
+appreciate the courtesy of the dedication. I shall be anxious to see
+the coming Smith and Poe numbers."&mdash;H. P. Lovecraft, Providence, R. I.</p>
+
+<p>"Congratulations on the new and greatly improved appearance of TFF. The
+new cover adds its dignity."&mdash;Richard Ely Morse, Washington, D. C.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h3>WEIRD WHISPERINGS<br />
+by Schwartz and Weisinger</h3>
+
+
+<p><i>Horror Stories</i>, a companion weird magazine to <i>Terror Tales</i>, will
+appear in the middle of December.... The Winford Publications' weird
+magazine forecast in this column some months ago made its bow in
+November under the title, <i>Mystery Novels Magazine, Weird! Strange!!
+Unusual!!!</i> To judge from the first issue there will appear a complete
+book-length novel in each number, to be accompanied by three or four
+weird-mystery yarns.... Edmond Hamilton deserts science fiction in
+the February <i>Weird Tales</i> for a crime story, called "Murder in the
+Grave".... Clark Ashton Smith does a lot of drawing for his own
+amusement, mostly heads of supernatural creatures. One very good one
+shows an old man with an elephant's trunk for a nose, ending in the
+head of a snake.</p>
+
+<p>A strange and unusual twist to stories about radio will be given in
+a new story by the author of "Vampires of the Moon," A. W. Bernal,
+titled "The Man who was Two Men".... <i>Tales of Magic and Mystery</i>, a
+short lived weird magazine, published a few yarns by Frank Owen, and an
+exceptionally good H. P. Lovecraft story, "Cool Air".... An ingenious
+tale of the distant future, dealing with mechanical companions and
+synthetic love, written by Frank Belknap Long, Jr., and entitled "The
+Body Masters," will be one of the highlights of the February WT.</p>
+
+<p>For the past few years the Philip Allan &amp; Co., Ltd., of London, has
+been publishing a collection of weird tale books under the title, The
+Creeps Series, a Collection of Uneasy Tales. Included in the series
+so far are: "Powers of Darkness," "Panics," "Monsters," "Nightmares,"
+"Mysteries of Asia," (by Achmed Abdullah), "Quakes," "Horrors,"
+"Terrors," "Devil's Drums," "Veils of Fear," "The Strange Papers of Dr.
+Blayre," and now in preparation, "Tales of the Grotesque." The books
+contain about 12 stories, each of a distinctly weird nature by such
+authors as Tod Robbins, Elliott O'Donnell, H. R. Wakefield, Douglas
+Newton, and others. Every year, too, appears a "Not at Night" series,
+edited by Christine Campbell Thomson, containing a collection of the
+best weird stories published during the year, the majority being from
+<i>Weird Tales</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Paul Ernst's three part novel, "Rulers of the Future," relating what
+the world will be like millions of years from now, and carrying the
+heroes of the story thru the whole universe with the speed of light,
+will be published starting with the January <i>Weird Tales</i>.... "The
+Red Room," by H. G. Wells, is the most often plagiarized weird story,
+according to Farnsworth Wright, and "The Damned Thing," by Bierce is
+another plot often seized upon.... In the February <i>Weird</i> will appear
+the first of Seabury Quinn's new series dealing with Thomas Eldridge
+Carter, investigator for the Grand Central Life Assurance Company,
+called "The Web of Living Death."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2>SUPERNATURAL HORROR IN LITERATURE</h2>
+
+<h3>by H. P. Lovecraft</h3>
+
+<p class="ph1">(copyright 1927 by W. Paul Cook)</p>
+
+<p class="ph1">Part Fifteen</p>
+
+<p class="ph1">VII. Edgar Allan Poe</p>
+
+
+<p>In the eighteen-thirties occurred a literary dawn directly affecting
+not only the history of the weird tale, but that of short fiction as
+a whole; and indirectly moulding the trends and fortunes of a great
+European aesthetic school. It is our good fortune as Americans to be
+able to claim that dawn as our own, for it came in the person of our
+illustrious and unfortunate fellow-countryman Edgar Allan Poe. Poe's
+fame has been subject to curious undulations, and it is now a fashion
+amongst the "advanced intelligentsia" to minimise his importance both
+as an artist and as an influence; but it would be hard for any mature
+and reflective critic to deny the tremendous value of his work and the
+pervasive potency of his mind as an opener of artistic vistas. True,
+his type of outlook may have been anticipated; but it was he who first
+realized its possibilities and gave it supreme form and systematic
+expression. True also, that subsequent writers may have produced
+greater single tales than his; but again we must comprehend that it
+was only he who taught them by example and precept the art which they,
+having the way cleared for them and given an explicit guide, were
+perhaps able to carry to greater lengths. Whatever his limitations, Poe
+did that which no one else ever did or could have done; and to him we
+owe the modern-story in its final and perfected state.</p>
+
+<p>Before Poe the bulk of weird writers had worked largely in the dark;
+without an understanding of the psychological basis of the horror
+appeal, and hampered by more or less of conformity to certain empty
+literary conventions such as the happy ending, virtue rewarded, and in
+general a hollow moral didacticism, acceptance of popular standards and
+values, and striving of the author to obtrude his own emotions into the
+story and take sides with the partisans of the majority's artificial
+ideals. Poe, on the other hand, perceived the essential impersonality
+of the real artist; and knew that the function of creative fiction
+is merely to express and interpret events and sensations as they
+are, regardless of how they tend or what they prove&mdash;good or evil,
+attractive or repulsive, stimulating or depressing, with the author
+always acting as a vivid and detached chronicler rather than as a
+teacher, sympathiser, or vendor of opinion. He saw clearly that all
+phases of life and thought are equally eligible as subject matter for
+the artist, and being inclined by temperament to strangeness and gloom,
+decided to be the interpreter of those powerful feelings and frequent
+happenings which attend pain rather than pleasure, decay rather than
+growth, terror rather than tranquility, and which are fundamentally
+either adverse or indifferent to the tastes and traditional outward
+sentiments of mankind, and to the health, sanity, and normal expansive
+welfare of the species.</p>
+
+<p>Poe's spectres thus acquired a convincing malignity possessed by none
+of their predecessors, and established a new standard of realism in
+the annals of literary horror. The impersonal and artistic intent,
+moreover, was aided by a scientific attitude not often found before;
+whereby Poe studied the human mind rather than the usages of Gothic
+fiction, and worked with an analytical knowledge of terror's true
+sources which doubled the force of his narratives and emancipated
+him from all the absurdities inherent in merely conventional
+shudder-coining. This example having been set, later authors were
+naturally forced to conform to it in order to compete at all; so that
+in this way a definite change began to affect the main stream of
+macabre writing. Poe, too, set a fashion in consummate craftmanship;
+and although today some of his own work seems slightly melodramatic
+and unsophisticated, we can constantly trace his influence in such
+things as the maintenance of a single mood and achievement of a single
+impression in a tale, and the rigorous paring down of incidents to such
+as have a direct bearing on the plot and will figure prominently in
+the climax. Truly may it be said that Poe invented the short story in
+its present form. His elevation of disease, perversity, and decay to
+the level of artistically expressible themes was likewise infinitely
+far-reaching in effect; for avidly seized, sponsored, and intensified
+by his eminent French admirer Charles Pierre Baudelaire, it became the
+nucleus of the principal aesthetic movements in France, thus making Poe
+in a sense the father of the Decadents and the Symbolists.</p>
+
+<p>Poet and critic by nature and supreme attainment, logician and
+philosopher by taste and mannerism, Poe was by no means immune from
+defects and affectations. His pretence to profound and obscure
+scholarship, his blundering ventures in stilted and laboured
+pseudo-humorous, and his often vitriolic outbursts of critical
+prejudices must all be recognized and forgiven. Beyond and above them,
+dwarfing them to insignificance, was a master's vision of the terror
+that stalks about and within us, and the worm that writhes and slavers
+in the hideously close abyss. Penetrating to every festering horror in
+the gaily painted mockery called existence, that vision had power to
+project itself in marvelous crystallisations and transmutations; till
+there bloomed in the sterile America of the thirties and forties such a
+moon-nourished garden of gorgeous poison fungi as not even the nether
+slope of Saturn had known in the days of the unutterable blasphemies.
+Verses and tales alike sustain the burden of cosmic panic. The raven
+whose noisome beak pierces the heart, the ghouls that toll iron bells
+in pestilential steeples, the vault of Ulalume in the black October
+night, the shocking spires and cones under the sea, the "wild, weird
+clime that lieth, sublime, out of Space&mdash;out of Time"&mdash;all these
+things and more leer at us amidst maniacal rattlings in the seething
+nightmare of the poetry. And in the prose there yawn open for us the
+very jaws of the pit&mdash;inconceivable abnormalities slyly hinted into
+a horrible half-knowledge by words whose innocence we scarcely doubt
+till the cracked tension of the speaker's hollow voice bids us fear
+their nameless implications; demoniac patterns and presences slumbering
+noxiously till waked for one phobic instant into a shrieking revelation
+that cackles itself to sudden madness or explodes in memorable and
+cataclysmic echoes. A Witches' Sabbath of horror flinging off decorous
+robes is flashed before us&mdash;a sight the more monstrous because of the
+scientific skill with which every particular is marshalled and brought
+into an easy apparent relation to the known gruesomeness of material
+life.</p>
+
+<p>Poe's tales, of course, fall into several classes; some of which
+contain a purer essence of spiritual horror than others. The tales of
+logic and ratiocination, forerunners of the modern detective story, are
+not to be included at all in weird literature; whilst certain others,
+probably influenced considerably by Hoffman, possess an extravagance
+which relegates them to the borderline of the grotesque. Still a third
+group deal with abnormal psychology and monomania in such a way as to
+express terror but not weirdness. A substantial residuum, however,
+represents the literature of supernatural horror in the acutest form;
+and give their author a permanent and unassailable place as deity
+and fountain-head of all modern diabolic fiction. Who can forget the
+terrible swollen ship poised on the billow-chasm's edge in "Ms. Found
+in a Bottle"&mdash;the dark intimations of her unhallowed age and monstrous
+growth, her sinister crew of unseeing greybeards, and her frightful
+southward rush under full sail thru the ice of the Antarctic night,
+sucked onward by some resistless devil-current toward a vortex of
+eldritch enlightenment which must end in destruction?</p>
+
+<p>Then there is the unutterable "M. Valdemar," kept together by hypnotism
+for seven months after his death, and uttering frantic sounds but a
+moment before the breaking of the spell leaves him "a nearly liquid
+mass of loathsome, of detestable putrescence." In the "Narrative of
+A. Gordon Pym" the voyagers reach first a strange south polar land of
+murderous savages where nothing is white and where vast rocky ravings
+have the form of titanic Egyptian letters spelling terrible primal
+arcana of earth; and thereafter a still more mysterious realm where
+everything is white, and where shrouded giants and snowy-plumed birds
+guard a cryptic cataract of mist which empties from immeasurable
+celestial heights into a torrid milky sea. "Metzengerstein" horrifies
+with its malign hints of a monstrous metempsychosis&mdash;the mad nobleman
+who burns the stable of his hereditary foe; the colossal unknown horse
+that issues from the blazing building after the owner has perished
+therein; the vanishing bit of ancient tapestry where was shown the
+giant horse of the victim's ancestor in the Crusade's; the madman's
+wild and constant riding on the great horse, and his fear and hatred
+of the steed; the meaningless prophecies that brood obscurely over the
+warring houses; and finally, the burning of the madman's palace and
+the death therein of the owner, borne helpless into the flames and
+up the vast staircase astride the beast he has ridden so strangely.
+Afterward the rising smoke of the ruins takes the form of a gigantic
+horse. "The Man of the Crowd," telling of one who roams day and night
+to mingle with streams of people as if afraid to be alone, has quieter
+effects, but implies nothing less of cosmic fear. Poe's mind was
+never far from terror and decay, and we see in every tale, poem, and
+philosophical dialogue, a tense eagerness to fathom unplumbed wells of
+night, to pierce the veil of death, and to reign in fancy as lord of
+the frightful mysteries of time and space.</p>
+
+<p>Certain of Poe's tales possess an almost absolute perfection of
+artistic form which makes them veritable beacon-lights in the province
+of the short story. Poe could, when he wished, give to his prose a
+richly poetic cast; employing that archaic and Orientalised style with
+jeweled phrase, quasi-Biblical repetition, and recurrent burthen so
+successfully used by later writers like Oscar Wilde and Lord Dunsany;
+and in the cases where he has done this we have an effect of lyrical
+phantasy almost narcotic in essence&mdash;an opium pageant of dream in the
+language of dream, with every unnatural colour and grotesque image
+bodied forth in a symphony of corresponding sound. "The Masque of the
+Red Death," "Silence, a Fable," and "Shadow, a Parable," are assuredly
+poems in every sense of the word save the metrical one and owe as much
+of their power to aural cadence as to visual imagery. But it is in two
+of the less openly poetic tales, "Ligeia," and "The Fall of the House
+of Usher,"&mdash;especially the latter&mdash;that one finds those very summits
+of artistry whereby Poe takes his place at the head of fictional
+miniaturists. Simple and straight-forward in plot, both of these tales
+owe their supreme magic to the cunning development which appears in the
+selection and collocation of every least incident. "Ligeia" tells of
+a first wife of lofty and mysterious origin, who after death returns
+through a preternatural force of will to take possession of the body of
+a second wife; imposing even her physical appearance on the temporary
+reanimated corpse of her victim at the last moment. Despite a suspicion
+of prolixity and topheaviness, the narrative reaches its terrific
+climax with relentless power. "Usher," whose superiority in detail
+and proportion is very marked, hints shudderingly of obscure life in
+inorganic things, and displays an abnormally linked trinity of entities
+at the end of a long and isolated family history&mdash;a brother, his twin
+sister, and their incredibly ancient house all sharing a single soul
+and meeting one common dissolution at the same moment.</p>
+
+<p>These bizarre conceptions, so awkward in unskillful hands, become under
+Poe's spell living and convincing terrors to haunt our nights; and
+all because the author understood so perfectly the very mechanics and
+physiology of fear and strangeness&mdash;the essential details to emphasise,
+the precise incongruities and conceits to select as preliminaries or
+concomitants to horror, the exact incidents and allusions to throw
+out innocently in advance as symbols or prefigurings of each major
+step toward the hideous denouement to come, the nice adjustments of
+cumulative force and the unerring accuracy in linkage of parts which
+make for faultless unity throughout and thunderous effectiveness at the
+climactic moment, the delicate nuances of scenic and landscape value to
+select in establishing and sustaining the desired mood and vitalising
+the desired illusion&mdash;principles of this kind, and dozens of obscurer
+ones too elusive to be described or even fully comprehended by any
+ordinary commentator. Melodrama and unsophistication there may be&mdash;we
+are told of one fastidious Frenchman who could not bear to read Poe
+except in Baudelaire's urbane and Gallically modulated translation&mdash;but
+all traces of such things are wholly overshadowed by a potent and
+inborn sense of the spectral, the morbid, and the horrible which gushed
+forth from every cell of the artist's creative mentality and stamped
+his macabre work with the ineffaceable mark of supreme genius. Poe's
+weird tales are <i>alive</i> in a manner that few others can ever hope to be.</p>
+
+<p>Like most fantaisistes, Poe excels in incidents and broad narrative
+effects rather than in character drawing. His typical protagonist is
+generally a dark, handsome, proud, melancholy, intellectual, highly
+sensitive, capricious, introspective, isolated, and sometimes slightly
+mad gentleman of ancient family and opulent circumstances; usually
+deeply learned in strange lore, and darkly ambitious of penetrating to
+forbidden secrets of the universe. Aside from a high-sounding name,
+this character obviously derives little from the early Gothic novel;
+for he is clearly neither the wooden hero nor the diabolical villain
+of Radcliffian or Ludovician romance. Indirectly, however, he does
+possess a sort of genealogical connexion; since his gloomy, ambition
+and anti-social qualities savour strongly of the typical Byronic
+hero, who in turn is definitely an off-spring of the Gothic Manfreds,
+Montonis, and Ambrosios. More particular qualities appear to be derived
+from the psychology of Poe himself, who certainly possessed much of the
+depression, sensitiveness, mad aspiration, loneliness, and extravagant
+freakishness which he attributes to his haughty and solitary victims of
+Fate.</p>
+
+<p>(Part Sixteen next month deals with the eighth section of this article,
+"The Weird Tradition in America," dealing mostly with Nathaniel
+Hawthorne and his comparison with Poe. Don't miss it.)</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>THE FAVORITE WEIRD STORIES OF CLARK ASHTON SMITH<br />
+(Courtesy of H. Koenig)</h3>
+
+<table summary="list of books">
+<tr><td>"The Yellow Sign" by Chambers</td></tr>
+<tr><td>"The House of Sounds" by Shiel</td></tr>
+<tr><td>"The Willows" by Blackwood</td></tr>
+<tr><td>"A View from a Hill" by James</td></tr>
+<tr><td>"The Death of Halpin Frayser" by Bierce</td></tr>
+<tr><td>"The House of Usher" by Poe</td></tr>
+<tr><td>"The Masque of Red Death" by Poe</td></tr>
+<tr><td>"The White Powder" by Machen</td></tr>
+<tr><td>"The Call of Cthulhu" by Lovecraft</td></tr>
+<tr><td>"The Colour out of Space"</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2>WILLIAM HOPE HODGSON</h2>
+
+<h3>by H. Koenig</h3>
+
+
+<p>A few years ago Faber and Faber published an anthology of ghost
+stories chosen by Colin de la Mare under the title "They Walk Again."
+Most of the stories included in this splendid anthology were by
+well-known writers such as Blackwood, Dunsany, and Bierce and many of
+the stories were familiar ones&mdash;"The Monkey's Paw," "Green Tea" and
+"The Ghost Ship." However, one new story was included in the book; one
+comparatively new face appeared among all the old familiar ones. The
+story was "The Voice in the Night" a horrifying and yet pathetic tale
+of human beings turned into a fungoid growth; the author is William
+Hope Hodgson.</p>
+
+<p>Except perhaps for a few of the older readers of weird stories, the
+name of Hodgson will mean nothing, and yet twenty-five years ago
+Hodgson wrote a number of books which compare very favorably with any
+of our modern weird stories, books which rank high in the fantasy
+field and which deserve more popularity and publicity than they ever
+received. Five of his books should be read by all weird story lovers:
+"The Boats of the Glen Carrig" 1907, "The House on the Borderland"
+1908, "The Night Land" 1912, and "Carnacki, The Ghost Finder" 1913.</p>
+
+<p>The first three books form (in Hodgson's words) "what perhaps may be
+termed a trilogy; for though very different in scope, each of the
+three books deals with certain conceptions that have an elemental
+kinship." A few chapter headings will give some idea of the treat in
+store for fantasy fans fortunate enough to locate these books&mdash;"The
+Thing that Made Search," "The Island in the Weed," "The Noise in the
+Valley," "The Weed Men," "The Thing in the Pit," "The Swing Things,"
+etc.</p>
+
+<p>"The Night Land" is one of the longest fantastic romances ever written,
+running close to six hundred pages. It is a story of the world in the
+future when the sun has died and the "Last Millions" are living in a
+large redoubt, a huge pyramid of gray metal nearly eight miles high
+and five miles around the base. Beyond the pyramid were mighty races
+of terrible creatures, half-beast and half-man, night hounds monstrous
+slugs, and other horrible monsters. As a protection against all these
+evils a great electric circle was put about the pyramid and lit from
+the Earth Current. It bounded the pyramid for a mile on each side and
+none of the monsters were able to cross it due to a subtle vibration
+which affected their brains.</p>
+
+<p>"Carnacki, The Ghost Finder" is a series of six short ghost stories in
+which Carnacki investigates ghostly phenomena in various homes. One or
+two of the tales are somewhat weakened by a natural explanation of the
+ghosts, but each of the stories is well worth reading.</p>
+
+<p>Hodgson's tales may well have served as source books for many of the
+stories now being read in our present day pulp magazines. The whole
+range of weird and fantastic plots appears to have been covered in the
+five books listed previously&mdash;pig-men, elementals, human trees, ghosts,
+sea of weeds, thought-transference, intelligent slugs, and in "The
+Night Land" the men are equipped with a hand weapon called a Diskos.
+This consists of a disk of gray metal which spins in the end of a metal
+rod, is charged from earth currents and capable of cutting people in
+two.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, there is practically no bibliographical data concerning
+Hodgson available. Even his old publishers are unable to supply
+any information except a meager list of some of his books and the
+regrettable fact that he was killed during the war.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2>The Sorcery of Aphlar</h2>
+
+<h3>by Duane W. Rimel</h3>
+
+
+<p>The council of twelve seated on the jeweled celestial dais ordered that
+Aphlar be cast from the gates of Bel-haz-en. He sat too much alone,
+they decreed, and brooded when toil should have been his lot. And
+in his obscure and hidden delvings he read all too frequently those
+papyri of Elder æons which reposed in the Gothic shrine and were to be
+consulted only for rare and special purposes.</p>
+
+<p>The twilight city of Bel-haz-en had climbed backward in its knowledge.
+No longer did philosophers sit upon street corners speaking wise words
+to the populace, for stupid ignorance ruled within the crumbling
+and immemorially ancient walls. Where once the wisdom of the stars
+abounded, only feebleness and desolation now lay upon the place;
+spreading like a monstrous blight and sucking foul nurture from the
+stupid dwellers. And out of the waters of the Oll that meandered from
+the mountains of Azlakka to pass by the aged city, there rose often
+great clouds of pestilence that racked the people sorely, leaving them
+pale and near to dying. All this their loss of wisdom brought. And now
+the council had sent their last and greatest wise man from them.</p>
+
+<p>Aphlar wandered to the mountains far above the city and built a cavern
+for protection from the summer heat and winter chill. There he read his
+scrolls in silence and his mighty wisdom to the wind about the crags
+and to the swallows on the wing. All day he sat and watched below or
+drew queer drawings on small bits of stone and chanted to them, for he
+knew that some day men would seek the cave and slay him. The cunning
+of the twelve did not mislead him. Had not the last exiled wiseman's
+screams rent the night two moon-rounds before when people thought him
+safely gone?</p>
+
+<p>Had not his own eyes seen the priest's sword-slashed form floating by
+in the poison waters? He knew no lion had killed old Azik, let the
+council say what they might. Does a lion slash with a sword and leave
+his prey uneaten?</p>
+
+<p>Through many seasons Aphlar sat upon the mountain, gazing at the muddy
+Oll as it wound into the misty distance to the land where none ever
+ventured. He spoke his words of wisdom to the snails that worked in the
+ground by his feet. They seemed to understand, and waved their slimy
+feelers before they sank beneath the sand again. On moonlight nights
+he climbed the hill above his cave and made strange offerings to the
+moon-God Alo; and when the night-birds heard the sound they drew close
+and listened to the whispering. And when queer winged things flapped
+across the darkened sky and loomed up dimly against the moon Aphlar was
+content. Those which he had addressed had heeded his beckoning. His
+thoughts were always far away, and his prayers were offered to the pale
+fancies of dusk.</p>
+
+<p>Then one day past noontide Aphlar rose from his earthen chair and
+strode down the rock mountain-side. His eyes, heeding not the rotten,
+stone-walled city, held steadfastly to the river. When he drew near
+its muddy brink he paused and looked up the bosom of the stream. A
+small object floated near the rushes, and this Aphlar rescued with
+tender and curious care. Then, wrapping the thing in the folds of his
+robe, he climbed up again to his cave in the hills. All day he sat and
+gazed upon the object; rummaging now and then in his musty chronicles,
+and muttering awful syllables as he drew faint figures on a piece of
+parchment.</p>
+
+<p>That night the gibbous moon rose high, but Aphlar did not climb above
+his dwelling. Queer night-birds flew past the cavern's mouth, chirped
+eerily, and fled away into the shadows.</p>
+
+<p>Many days passed before the council sent their messengers of murder;
+but at last the time was thought ripe, and seven dark-browned men
+stole away to the hills. Yet when that grim seven ventured within the
+cave they saw not the wise man Aphlar. Instead, small blades of grass
+were sprouting in his natural chair of earth. All about lay papyri dim
+and musty, with faint figures drawn upon them. The seven shuddered
+and left forthwith when they beheld these things, but as the last man
+tremblingly withdrew he saw a round and unknown thing lying on the
+ground. He picked it up, and his fellows drew close in curiosity; but
+they saw upon it only alien symbols which they could not read, yet
+which made them shrink and quaver without knowing why. Then he who
+had found it cast it quickly over the steep precipice beside him, but
+no sound came from the slope below whereon it should have fallen. And
+the thrower trembled, fearing many things that are not known but only
+whispered about. Then, when he told how the sphere he had held was
+without the weight a thing of stone should have; how it was like to
+have floated on air as the thistledown floats; he and the six with him
+slunk as one from the spot and swore it was a place accursed.</p>
+
+<p>But after they had gone a snail crawled slowly from a sandy crevice and
+slid intently over to where the blades of grass were growing. And when
+it reached the spot, two slimy feelers stretched forth and bent oddly
+downward, as if eager to watch forever the winding river.</p>
+
+<p class="ph1">The End</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p class="ph1">Subscribe to</p>
+
+<p class="ph1">THE FANTASY FAN</p>
+
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+
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2>PROSE PASTELS</h2>
+
+<h3>by Clark Ashton Smith</h3>
+
+<p class="ph1"><i>5. The Passing of Aphrodite</i></p>
+
+
+<p>In all the lands of Illarion, from mountain-valleys rimmed with
+unmelting snow, to the great cliffs of sand whose reflex darkens a
+sleepy, tepid sea, were lit as of old the green and amethyst fires
+of summer. Spices were on the wind that mountaineers had met in the
+high glaciers; and the eldest wood of cypress, frowning on a sky-clear
+bay, was illumined by scarlet orchids.... But the heart of the poet
+Phaniol was an urn of black jade overfraught by love with sodden ashes.
+And because he wished to forget for a time the mockery of myrtles,
+Phaniol walked alone in the waste bordering upon Illarion; in a place
+that great fires had blackened long ago, and which knew not the pine
+or the violet, the cypress or the myrtle. There, as the day grew old,
+he came to an unsailed ocean, whose waters were dark and still under
+the falling sun, and bore not the memorial voices of other seas. And
+Phaniol paused, and lingered upon the ashen shore; and dreamt awhile of
+that sea whose name is Oblivion.</p>
+
+<p>Then, from beneath the westering sun, whose bleak light was prone on
+his forehead, a barge appeared and swiftly drew to the land: albeit
+there was no wind, and the oars hung idly on the foamless wave. And
+Phaniol saw that the barge was wrought of ebony fretted with curious
+anaglyphs, and carved with luxurious forms of gods and beasts, of
+satyrs and goddesses and women; and the figurehead was a black Eros
+with full unsmiling mouth and implacable sapphire eyes averted, as if
+intent upon things not lightly to be named or revealed. Upon the deck
+of the barge were two women, one pale as the northern moon, and the
+other swart as equatorial midnight. But both were clad imperially, and
+bore the mien of goddesses or of those who dwell near to the goddesses,
+without word or gesture, they regarded Phaniol; and, marvelling, he
+inquired, "What seek ye?"</p>
+
+<p>Then, with one voice that was like the voice of hesperian airs among
+palms at evening twilight in the Fortunate Isles, they answered, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"We wait the goddess Aphrodite, who departs in weariness and sorrow
+from Illarion, and from all the lands of this world of petty loves and
+pettier mortalities. Thou, because thou art a poet, and hast known the
+great sovereignty of love, shall behold her departure. But they, the
+men of the court, the market-place and the temple, shall receive no
+message nor sign of her going-forth, and will scarcely dream that she
+is gone.... Now, O Phaniol, the time, the goddess and the going-forth
+are at hand."</p>
+
+<p>Even as they ceased, One came across the desert; and her coming was
+a light on the far hills; and where she trod the lengthening shadows
+shrunk, and the grey waste put on the purple asphodels and the deep
+verdure it had worn when those queens were young, that now are a
+darkening legend and a dust of mummia. Even to the shore she came and
+stood before Phaniol, while the sunset greatened, filling sky and
+sea with a flush as of new-blown blossoms, or the inmost rose of that
+coiling shell which was consecrate to her in old time. Without robe or
+circlet or garland, crowned and clad only with the sunset, fair with
+the dreams of man but fairer yet than all dreams: thus she waited,
+smiling tranquilly, who is life or death, despair or rapture, vision or
+flesh, to gods and poets and galaxies unknowable. But, filled with a
+wonder that was also love, or much more than love, the poet could find
+no greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"Farewell, O Phaniol," she said, and her voice was the sighing of
+remote waters, the murmur of waters moon-withdrawn, forsaking not
+without sorrow a proud island tall with palms. "Thou hast known me
+and worshipped all thy days till now, but the hour of my departure is
+come: I go, and when I am gone, thou shalt worship still and shalt
+not know me. For the destinies are thus, and not forever to any man,
+to any world or to any god, is it given to possess me wholly. Autumn
+and spring will return when I am past, the one with yellow leaves, the
+other with yellow violets; birds will haunt the renewing myrtles; and
+many little loves will be thine. Not again to thee or to any man will
+return the perfect vision and the perfect flesh of the goddess."</p>
+
+<p>Ending thus, she stepped from that ashen strand to the dark prow of the
+barge; and even as it had come, without wafture of wind or movement of
+oar, the barge put out on a sea covered with the fallen, fading petals
+of sunset. Quickly it vanished from view, while the desert lost those
+ancient asphodels and the deep verdure it had worn again for a little.
+Darkness, having conquered Illarion, came slow and furtive on the path
+of Aphrodite; shadows mustered innumerably to the grey hills; and the
+heart of the poet Phaniol was an urn of black jade overfraught by love
+with sodden ashes.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2>AN INTERVIEW WITH E. HOFFMANN PRICE</h2>
+
+<h3>by Fred Anger &amp; Louis C. Smith</h3>
+
+
+<p>Author, linguist, world-traveller, automobile mechanic and cook&mdash;that,
+fantasy fans, is a fairly representative picture of E. Hoffmann Price!
+The Syrian quarters of Chicago and New York and the Old French Quarter
+of New Orleans are no strange places to this prolific author of weird
+stories and detective yarns; he is equally at home in the Philippines
+and in certain little-known sections of France. He is&mdash;but wait!&mdash;let's
+go about this in an orderly manner.</p>
+
+<p>Contrary to popular belief, E. Hoffmann Price did <i>not</i> have his first
+story published in Weird Tales; his first was sold to "Droll Stories,"
+and brought him the magnificent sum of twenty-four dollars (he chuckles
+over it now). His first story in Weird Tales was "The Rajah's Gift"
+which appeared in January 1925; and from this time on, until his job
+as manager of an acetylene plant petered out, Price wrote exclusively
+for Weird Tales and Oriental Stories. Since the spring of 1932 he has
+devoted all his time to fictioneering.</p>
+
+<p>"The Sultan's Jest" his third story in the "Unique Magazine" was later
+reprinted in "The Sovereign Magazine" published in London.</p>
+
+<p>"The Lord of the Fourth Axis," in Weird Tales last year was revised
+three times before Farnsworth Wright accepted it. The strange, unique
+design for the rug which played so prominent part in this latter tale
+was suggested by a Turkestan prayer rug of unusual shape now hanging in
+the Chicago home of Editor Wright.</p>
+
+<p>The locale of the Pierre d'Artois stories is authentic: there is the
+city of Bayonne, France, and there Price lived for some time, visiting
+the underground chambers, soaking in the atmosphere of the place.
+Also in France, he visited the city of Lourdes where he obtained from
+several old legends, material for "Tarbis of the Lake."</p>
+
+<p>To "Strange Detective Stories" Price sold one of the Pierre d'Artois
+stories, which he considers the wildest story he has ever written.</p>
+
+<p>Material for "The Prophet's Grand-children" (W. T. October 1925) was
+picked up in the Philippines.</p>
+
+<p>Having sold every story in which a peacock was mentioned, Price quite
+naturally considers this beautiful bird the best of good luck emblems.
+But enough for the writings of E. Hoffmann Price! For the man himself:</p>
+
+<p>His favorite smoke is the <i>nargileh</i> or water pipe; though on
+occasions he does relish a cigar or a cigarette rolled from Bull
+Durham tobacco.</p>
+
+<p>He speaks German, mangles French and Spanish, and gargles a smattering
+of Arabic.</p>
+
+<p>While in Oklahoma this spring, he salvaged sheet metal from an
+abandoned smokestack&mdash;welded the pieces together to make an automatic
+feed acetylene generator for a friend who owned a repair shop.</p>
+
+<p>He lived several years in "Le Vieux Carre"&mdash;that's creole for "Old
+French Quarter"&mdash;of New Orleans, which accounts for his frequent use
+of Crescent City atmosphere. He has been in the Philippines, Japan,
+Hawaii, Mexico, has covered France from end to end, and is at home in
+most parts of the States.</p>
+
+<p>Favorite dishes: Chili con Carne, East Indian Curry, and on state
+occasions, a capon stuffed with pistachios and basted with sherry
+until, when completely roasted, the fowl is coated with a high glaze
+of deep walnut color: the result being called "Varnished Vulture" by
+the crew of fictioneers who make Weird Tales Editorial Rooms their
+headquarters. And a close second to the foregoing is turtle stew,
+prepared according to an old Creole recipe.</p>
+
+<p>And, there, in a fragmentary, woefully incomplete way, you have E.
+Hoffmann Price: swell spinner of tall yarns, linguist, mechanic, cook
+par excellence&mdash;and in general a hell of a good fellow.</p>
+
+<p>Selah!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2>The Laughter of a Ghoul</h2>
+
+<h3>by Robert Bloch</h3>
+
+
+<p>Have you ever heard the laughter of a ghoul? Shrill and high, it
+rises and ululates with the cadence of a song from the Pit. Hearing
+it brings the soul closer to strange terrors and gives the listener
+vague glimpses into half-opened door-ways thru which no man should peer
+too closely. Once I heard that mocking laughter in the silence of the
+night, and since that evil-fated day the night has held neither silence
+nor surcease from the haunting memory of that mirth or madness. Ever it
+lurks and lingers in the shadows of my brain, till only thru expression
+of my torment can I hope to maintain my sanity in a world made hideous
+by the Nemesis of inescapable memory.</p>
+
+<p>In all the Rood-mass realms of Nightmare, there is nothing equalling in
+foulness that grim and fearful monster known to legend as the Ghoul.
+Accursed is he, and accursed the land burdened by his presence. In such
+a land I dwelt, lord of an ancient, remote line.</p>
+
+<p>Slithering secrets dwelt within the archaic avenues of the vast and
+sombre forest near my manor in the hills&mdash;secrets black and hideous,
+haunting and unspeakable, such as demonian presences mumble nightly in
+the aeon-dead abysses beyond the light of stars. Here in this forlorn
+realm of trickling tarns and baleful solitude my newly-wedded and
+beloved bride chanced one day to wander, as in rustic holiday. All
+unbeknowning, I spent the day in town, returning only as even-tide drew
+near. But she, my beloved, did not return, even with the coming of
+darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Then it was that the frightened servants who met me at the gate babbled
+that which sent me racing off, torch in hand, into the depths of the
+dream-wood looming so loathesomely in the unholy luminance of the
+autumn moon. Shrieking and cursing I went on, gibbering threats to the
+skies; but more dreadful still was my silence when at last I reached
+the end of my quest. Do not ask me how or where I found her. She was
+not dead, but she would have been better so after what It had done. She
+never spoke after I found her, and I do not think that she knew me. I
+pray that she did not. I carried her back to the manor and delivered
+her to the care of the servants. Then, with a score of retainers I
+returned again to the forest to do that which must be done, and to
+eradicate certain discoveries whose very existence was an insult to
+sanity. There were bloated trees to cut down, and creepers to be torn
+from the depths of nameless graves. There were curious holes to be
+blocked with massive stones and certain tracks and monstrous footprints
+over which the good curé must pronounce exorcism. There was another
+shrub-hidden cavern in the swamps containing grisly but unmistakable
+evidences of tenancy. One such place I entered alone and performed a
+deed with the long sword my grand-sire had wielded in the Orient. Then
+I collapsed, and was carried home upon a hastily-improvised litter of
+birchen branches, to toss for many weeks thereafter in the delirious
+agony of mocking, cacodemoniacal memory.</p>
+
+<p>After that I spent many days poring unceasingly over disquieting bits
+of ancient legendry concerning the forest and its ghastly presences,
+whilst awaiting the birth of my wife's child&mdash;for she, in a condition
+of unsensibility precluding her removal from the manor, was about to
+become a mother. And so slowly passed the dreary months of waiting and
+expectancy, whilst over all hung the shadow of an impinging dread.</p>
+
+<p>At last the day arrived when, as I brooded in my study, poring over the
+chronicle of a woodsman who had heard the pipes of Pan, the mid-wife
+came and gently touched me on the shoulder. In faltering accents she
+whispered that my wife was dead. I sat there dully for five endless
+minutes; then in a voice sepulchrally muted, I asked after my child.
+She led me silently into the room where dead mother and living infant
+lay.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, the child was alive, still is alive, but I will say no more. May
+the Ultimate Powers consign it&mdash;and the Fate that produced it&mdash;to
+everlasting torment! For it was when I entered that room where the dead
+mother and the living infant lay that I heard for the first time The
+LAUGHTER OF A GHOUL!</p>
+
+<p class="ph1">The End</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2>LOST EXCERPTS</h2>
+
+<h3>by Robert Nelson</h3>
+
+<p class="ph1"><i>II. The Feast of the Centaurs</i></p>
+
+
+<p>The enormous chamber was aflare with a myriad lamps. There were long
+tables covered with seemingly endless varieties of meats, wines,
+cheeses, birds, and other viands and edibles. Drunken centaurs carried
+other intoxicated centaurs across the tables trampling everything
+that came their way, causing both wrath and mirth to others. Wine was
+spilled heavily all about; and centaurs fell and grappled with one
+another on the lubricious earth. Two there were who fought for the
+possession of a fried grasshopper; and three belabored each other's
+heads with weighty stools. Some threw great platters of food from the
+tables and demanded more wine. And the exhalation that arose from the
+food and creatures became heavier; and the rejoicing and the swearing
+and debating of tongues increased.</p>
+
+<p>There were huge mirrors of multiplied convexity in the vast room and
+these seemed to enhance and sharpen the ebbing and flowing luminosity
+from the immense wax lights and bright vases. The mirrors caused much
+confusion among the inebriated and over-gorged creatures, for they
+crashed and careened with one another against the mirrors and cut
+themselves, and laughed and cursed at their own grotesque and misshapen
+likenesses.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h3>SEABURY QUINN<br />
+A Brief Note</h3>
+
+
+<p>While it is not generally known to his readers, many of whom believe
+him to be a physician, Seabury Quinn, author of the Jules de Grandin
+stories which have been popular with the readers of Weird Tales for
+ten years, holds the degrees of Bachelor and Master of Laws, being
+graduated from the National University Law School, Washington, D. C.,
+in 1910. From 1910 until his entry into the U. S. Army at the outbreak
+of the World War (Second Lieutenant, Infantry attached Intelligence
+Service) he practised law in the National Capital, specializing in
+criminal and personal injury cases, in which he acted principally as
+medico-legal consultant to other attorneys.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>ADVERTISEMENTS<br />
+Rates: one cent per word<br />
+Minimum Charge, 25 cents</h3>
+
+<p>Back Numbers of <i>The Fantasy Fan</i>: September, 1933, out of print; Oct.,
+Dec., 1933&mdash;Jan., Feb., Mar., May, June, Aug., Sept., Oct., 1934, 10
+cents each. Nov., 1933&mdash;Apr., July, 1934, 20 cents each.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>CLARK ASHTON SMITH presents THE DOUBLE SHADOW AND OTHER FANTASIES&mdash;a
+booklet containing a half-dozen imaginative and atmospheric
+tales&mdash;stories of exotic beauty, horror, terror, strangeness, irony and
+satire. Price: 25 cents each (coin or stamps). Also a small remainder
+of EBONY AND CRYSTAL&mdash;a book of prose-poems published at $2.00, reduced
+to $1.00 per copy. Everything sent postpaid. Clark Ashton Smith,
+Auburn, California.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>A. MERRITT'S New Fantasyarn, "The Drone," Donald Wandrei's short
+weirdthriller, "The Chuckler," Francis Flagg's glamorous "Moon
+Voyager's Speech," "The Horde of Elo Hava," by L. A. Eshbach. All for
+10 cents! SFDCOff, 87-36&mdash;162nd Street, Jamaica, N. Y.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>WANTED: Announcement circulars of <i>Unusual Stories</i>; September 1933
+<i>Fantasy Fan</i>. 50 Cents each. S-F Syndicate, 509 West 26th St., Austin,
+Texas.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>A CHRISTMAS GIFT! Why not give your fantasy-loving friends something
+for Christmas that they will long remember? Give them a subscription to
+THE FANTASY FAN! They will think of you as they receive their copies
+each month of the year.</p>
+
+<div style='margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG BOOK OF THE FANTASY FAN, VOLUME 2, NUMBER 4, DECEMBER 1934 ***</div>
+
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