In 1924 Lovecraft wrote…

‘Take a werewolf story, for instance — who ever wrote a story from the point of view of the wolf, and sympathising strongly with the devil to whom he has sold himself?’ — H.P. Lovecraft in the letters columns of Weird Tales, March 1924. Quoted in Darrell Schweitzer, Discovering Classic Fantasy Fiction, p.126.

In this respect it’s interesting that a decadent writer called Robert Buchanan published a long decadent poem as a book, The Devil’s Case (1896). In it Buchanan sympathises with the Devil, portraying him both as a magician and a scientist/skeptic. Regrettably for the modern reader it comes with an offputtingly teduous late-Victorian preamble and it has much ‘poeticky’ language, but there are many very effective and vivid passages. Arkham House reprinted one of his long poems, but sadly not this one.

Here is Buchanan’s Devil in The Devil’s Case, recalling his time as a scientist/architect in Ancient Egypt. This would seem to have obvious relevance to “Nyarlathotep” (1920)…

Given Lovecraft’s dislike of 19th century literature it’s perhaps understandable that Lovecraft does not appear to have even known about some of the Victorian fantasy novelists such as William Morris (or possibly he assumed from summaries that they were more like children’s fairy tales, or just felt them not to be weird or horrific enough for mention in Supernatural Literature). But Lovecraft was apparently fairly informed on the Decadents and poetry. Indeed he went through a Decadent “phase” up until about 1922/23. So it seems strange he appears never to have mentioned Robert Buchanan. Archibald Stodart-Walker’s book Robert Buchanan, the poet of modern revolt: an introduction to his poetry had appeared in 1901. Also Harriet Jay’s Robert Buchanan: some account of his life, his life’s work, and his literary friendships had appeared from Unwin in 1903, and Henry Murray’s Robert Buchanan: a critical appreciation, and other essays in 1901 — so it wasn’t as if the author had been forgotten in the 1910s. Much of Buchanan’s early work was conventional, but his The Book of Orm (1870) and especially its section of poems titled “The Devil’s Mystics” might have been on Lovecraft’s list had he read about it. Certainly Orm was described in Chapter 12 of Lafcadio Hearn’s Appreciations of Poetry (1916)…

Buchanan’s Orm is represented to be an ancient Celt, who has visions and dreams about the mystery of the universe, and who puts these visions and dreams, which are Buchanan’s, into old-fashioned verse.

a very remarkable beauty, a Celtic beauty of weirdness [of “The Ballad of Judas Iscariot”]

But Lafcadio Hearn’s essay appears to resolutely steer matters toward the ponderous ‘Christian meanings’, and he very oddly neglects to even mention that Buchanan ever published The Devil’s Case. If this book chapter was all that Lovecraft ever read about or by Buchanan (Hearn gives a large chunk of Judas Iscariot), then it may well have been enough to strike the name off Lovecraft’s list of works to investigate. Still, there does appear to be at least one very striking point of correspondence between the “The Devil’s Case” and “Nyarlathotep” (see above), and also some rather Lovecraftian language in places such as…

A quick tracking-down of the site of Lovecraft’s famous ice-cream eating contests, which I had pictured as being in urban New York. But seemingly not…

“21, Federal Street [Warren, Rhode Island]. “Bosworth Mansion” or “Maxfields” c.1840: 2 story gable roof Greek Revival house possibly designed by architect Russell Warren for Judge Alfred Bosworth; known for years as “Maxfields” a popular local ice-cream parlor.”

“After digesting Warren’s quiet lanes and doorways we went across the tracks to Aunt Julia’s, where we tanked up on twelve different kinds of ice cream — all they’re serving at this time of year.” — Selected Letters: 1932-1934.

This was owned by Julia A. Maxfield’s whose father was apparently Louis Warren Taft, and was of an old Rhode Island family. It seems from the mention of “Aunt Julia” that she was related to a member of the Lovecraft Circle. It seems, though, that the “Bosworth Mansion” was not the actual site of the parlour. The parlour was apparently in a nearby building, presumably in the grounds and maybe looking more like a wooden Summer House?…

From: Ruth Marris Macaulay, John Chaney. Warren. Arcadia, 1997.

Or possibly it was a veranda-like extension at the back of the house, which Wandrei’s (then nearly 20 years-old) memories seem to imply. Although I think I would rather trust the memories of the local historians and local people that the parlour was actually some distance from the main house.

Possibly Julia A. Maxfield didn’t actually work there either, but employed her relatives to do so, since there is mention of a Charles Redfern Maxfield Snr. being the manager of an ice-cream parlour in Warren in the 1920s.

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Thanks to Chris Perridas for snagging this from an auction-house blurb on the parlour…

From the 1944 Arkham House book Marginalia by H.P. Lovecraft, there is a section titled “The Dweller in Darkness” by Donald Wandrei. In that piece he explains the history and story behind the first 1927 trip to Maxfields:—

We took a bus for Warren, Rhode Island, where they promised a great treat. At Warren we walked to an establishment called Maxfield’s in a rambling old Colonial house. Its specialty was ice-cream, and it developed that our pilgrimage was solely for the purpose of consuming ice-cream.

There were thirty-two varieties on the menu. “Are they all available?” asked Lovecraft.

“No,” said the waiter, “only twenty-eight today, Sir.”

“Ah, the decay of modern commercial institutions,” said Lovecraft dolefully. “Thirty-two varieties are advertised but only twenty-eight are prepared for the famished pilgrims.”

We each ordered a double portion of a different flavor, and by dividing each other’s choice, we enjoyed three flavors with each serving. The trams came on and on — chocolate, vanilla, peach, black raspberry, pistachio, black walnut, coffee, huckleberry, strawberry, orange, plum, mint, burnt almond, and exotic types whose names I do not recall. The ice-cream was superior; there was no doubt of its being of the finest quality. But on the twenty-first variety I was beyond capacity. I watched with awe while the remaining flavors arrived in the same huge portions, and Lovecraft and Morton ate on with undiminshed zest, interspersing the astonishing meal with a wealth of literary allusions on the origins of ice-cream, its preparation in Italy, its appeal to famous men, the distinctions between meringues, ice-creams, and ices. I managed to sip each flavor for the record of twenty-eight, but I was a weak runner-up to the champions. I would estimate that Lovecraft and Morton consumed between two and three quarts of ice-cream apiece on that gastronomic triumph.

The occasion was so memorable that we wrote a short note of appreciation of the twenty-eight varieties and our enjoyment, signed it, and left it at the table. A year later when we visited Warren, we were surprised to find our tribute decorating a wall. Lovecraft was both amused and delighted but all he said was, “What a disapointment that the other four varieties were not available.”