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Acolyte, v. 3, issue 4, whole no. 12, Fall 1945
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craft and many other noted authors of weird fiction, and there is much to be said for the assertion that skepticism is an advantage for a weirdist in that it enables him to write convincingly and impressively of the supernatural as a monstrous overthrow of the normal laws of the universe. Certain it is that most "occult" and mystical writers who believe in their spiritual creations treat of them in a boringly casual manner, and that even Algernon Blackwood, a believer in the supernatural, sometimes writes of it so vaguely that one is not quite sure whether or not it is intended to be present. In James there is never any doubt; a determined materialist might be able to find "rational" loopholes out of the ghostly dilemmas in some of the stories, but only by the next exercise of great powers of self-persuasion. Despite (or perhaps because of) the extraordinary and supramundane character of his horrors, James was a realist in all other aspects of his writing, and in that fact lies much of his modern appeal, for we live in an age of realism. Both his settings and his characters reflect the scenes of everyday life with which he was most familiar. As a scholar and antiquary he naturally wrote about the places where he had carried on his researches--the university (in "The Mezzotint" and "'Oh Middoth", based on the Cambridge University library, where James of course spent much time), the British Museum (in "Casting the Runes"), and the old cathedral (in "The Stalls of Barchester Cathedral" and "An Episode of Cathedral History"--whose edifices were compounds of the cathedrals of Canterbury, Salisbury, and Hereford--and in "Canon Alberic's Scrapbook", "The Treasure of Abbot Thomas", and the chapel in "The Uncommon Prayer-Book"). James was the first to exploit these academic settings for purposes of weird fiction, and he did an extremely effective job of it, partly from his intimate knowledge of the recondite activities and appurtenances of such places (as the library) and partly from the awesome atmosphere of hoary antiquity inevitably clinging to them (as in the cathedrals). The romantic gloom of age is always a valuable adjunct to any ghost story, and as an antiquarian and student of architecture, James (again like Lovecraft) was in an especially good position to make full use of the theme. His tours of the continent found expression in his stories of France, Denmark, Sweden, and Germany ("Canon Alberic's Scrap-Book", "Number 13", Count Magnus", and "The Treasure of Abbot Thomas", respectively), and the idea for "Number 13" was in fact suggested by his friend Will Stone who accompanied him on his first trip to Denmark, though he did not write the story until three years later. Eight stories take place in and around the seventeenth and eighteenth century English manor houses that he loved so well, both from memories of Livermere Hall in his childhood and the prevalence of them in Le Fanu's stories. They run to a common Georgian type, like the one in "Lost Hearts"--"a tall, square, red-brick house, built in the reign of Anne; a stone-pillored porch had been added in the purer classical style of 1790; the windows of the house were many, tall and narrow, with small panes and thick white woodwork". And so on, with more architectural detail, equaled only by that in the cathedral stories--with the result that James gave these gracious, confortable homes a romantic, nostalgic atmosphere that has played a large part in their predominance in English weird fiction of this century. They may be said to have taken the place of the Gothic castles as the most effective settings for ghost stories of a reflective and historically atmospheric nature. Most of the remaining stories occur in villages or rural or seacoast areas in England, several being based on places James had visited, such as Felixstowe, Sampford Courtenay, Herefordshire, and Aldeburgh. He admitted that places were more suggestive to him than any other -- 12 --
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craft and many other noted authors of weird fiction, and there is much to be said for the assertion that skepticism is an advantage for a weirdist in that it enables him to write convincingly and impressively of the supernatural as a monstrous overthrow of the normal laws of the universe. Certain it is that most "occult" and mystical writers who believe in their spiritual creations treat of them in a boringly casual manner, and that even Algernon Blackwood, a believer in the supernatural, sometimes writes of it so vaguely that one is not quite sure whether or not it is intended to be present. In James there is never any doubt; a determined materialist might be able to find "rational" loopholes out of the ghostly dilemmas in some of the stories, but only by the next exercise of great powers of self-persuasion. Despite (or perhaps because of) the extraordinary and supramundane character of his horrors, James was a realist in all other aspects of his writing, and in that fact lies much of his modern appeal, for we live in an age of realism. Both his settings and his characters reflect the scenes of everyday life with which he was most familiar. As a scholar and antiquary he naturally wrote about the places where he had carried on his researches--the university (in "The Mezzotint" and "'Oh Middoth", based on the Cambridge University library, where James of course spent much time), the British Museum (in "Casting the Runes"), and the old cathedral (in "The Stalls of Barchester Cathedral" and "An Episode of Cathedral History"--whose edifices were compounds of the cathedrals of Canterbury, Salisbury, and Hereford--and in "Canon Alberic's Scrapbook", "The Treasure of Abbot Thomas", and the chapel in "The Uncommon Prayer-Book"). James was the first to exploit these academic settings for purposes of weird fiction, and he did an extremely effective job of it, partly from his intimate knowledge of the recondite activities and appurtenances of such places (as the library) and partly from the awesome atmosphere of hoary antiquity inevitably clinging to them (as in the cathedrals). The romantic gloom of age is always a valuable adjunct to any ghost story, and as an antiquarian and student of architecture, James (again like Lovecraft) was in an especially good position to make full use of the theme. His tours of the continent found expression in his stories of France, Denmark, Sweden, and Germany ("Canon Alberic's Scrap-Book", "Number 13", Count Magnus", and "The Treasure of Abbot Thomas", respectively), and the idea for "Number 13" was in fact suggested by his friend Will Stone who accompanied him on his first trip to Denmark, though he did not write the story until three years later. Eight stories take place in and around the seventeenth and eighteenth century English manor houses that he loved so well, both from memories of Livermere Hall in his childhood and the prevalence of them in Le Fanu's stories. They run to a common Georgian type, like the one in "Lost Hearts"--"a tall, square, red-brick house, built in the reign of Anne; a stone-pillored porch had been added in the purer classical style of 1790; the windows of the house were many, tall and narrow, with small panes and thick white woodwork". And so on, with more architectural detail, equaled only by that in the cathedral stories--with the result that James gave these gracious, confortable homes a romantic, nostalgic atmosphere that has played a large part in their predominance in English weird fiction of this century. They may be said to have taken the place of the Gothic castles as the most effective settings for ghost stories of a reflective and historically atmospheric nature. Most of the remaining stories occur in villages or rural or seacoast areas in England, several being based on places James had visited, such as Felixstowe, Sampford Courtenay, Herefordshire, and Aldeburgh. He admitted that places were more suggestive to him than any other -- 12 --
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