There was between them a middle-aged man who travelled all the way from New Orleans to get special information. He was unable to get it from any local source. His name was John Raymond Legrasse. He was an Inspector of Police and he brought the subject of his visit with him. It was a grotesque, repulsive, and apparently very ancient stone statuette. Its origin was unknown.
Inspector Legrasse was not interested in archaeology at all. He came because of purely professional considerations. The statuette, idol, fetish, or whatever it was, was captured some months before in the wooded swamps south of New Orleans during a raid on a supposed voodoo meeting[26]. The rites connected with it were so singular and hideous, that the police immediately realized that it was a dark cult totally unknown to them, and infinitely more diabolic than even the blackest of the African voodoo circles. Absolutely nothing was discovered of its origin. They discovered only erratic and unbelievable tales from the captured members. Hence the police asked for help from scholars. They wanted to identify the frightful symbol, and through it understand the cult itself.
Inspector Legrasse was not prepared for the sensation which his offering created. One sight of the thing was enough to throw the assembled scientists into a state of tense excitement. They crowded around him to gaze at the diminutive strange figure. The figure was apparently very old and nothing alike. An unknown school of sculpture made this terrible object. Centuries and even thousands of years were recorded in its dim and greenish surface of stone.
They passed slowly this figure from man to man for close and careful study. It was between seven and eight inches in height. It represented a vaguely humanoid monster, with an octopus-like head. Its face was a mass of feelers. It had a scaly rubbery-looking body, prodigious claws on hind and fore feet, and long, narrow wings behind. This thing was an embodiment of a fearsome and unnatural malignancy[27]. It squatted evilly on a rectangular block or pedestal that was covered with undecipherable characters[28]. The tips of the wings touched the back edge of the block. The seat occupied the center. The long, curved claws of the hind legs gripped the front edge and extended toward the bottom of the pedestal. The cephalopod head[29] was bent forward. The ends of the facial feelers brushed the backs of huge fore paws which clasped the elevated knees. The creature looked abnormally life-like and fearful. Its source was totally unknown. Its vast, awesome, and incalculable age was unmistakable. But it was not connected to any known type of art belonging to civilisations youth or indeed to any other time. Even its material was a mystery. The soapy, greenish-black stone with its golden or iridescent flecks and striations was not familiar to geology or mineralogy. The characters along the base were totally unknown. Nobody had the least notion of even their remotest linguistic kinship. They, like the subject and material, belonged to something horribly remote and distinct from mankind as we know it.
The members shook their heads and confessed defeat at the Inspectors problem. Yet there was one man in that gathering who recognized bizarre familiarity in the monstrous shape and writing. This person was the late William Channing Webb[30], Professor of Anthropology in Princeton University, and a famous explorer.
Professor Webb took part, forty-eight years before, in a tour of Greenland and Iceland in search of some Runic inscriptions. On the West Greenland coast he met a singular tribe or cult of degenerate Esquimaux[31]. Their religion was a curious form of devil-worship. It frightened him with its deliberate bloodthirstiness[32] and repulsiveness. It was a faith of which other Esquimaux knew little. They mentioned it only with shudders. They said that it came down from horribly ancient ages before the creation of the world. Besides nameless rites and human sacrifices there were certain queer hereditary rituals. These rituals addressed to a supreme elder devil ortornasuk[33]. Professor Webb took a careful phonetic copy of this from an agedangekok or wizard-priest[34]. It was expressing the sounds in Roman letters as best he knew how. The most important thing was the fetish, around which they danced when the aurora leaped high[35] over the ice cliffs. The professor stated that it was a very crude bas-relief of stone. It was comprising a hideous picture and some cryptic writing. And it was a rough parallel in all essential features of the bestial thing which was now lying before the meeting.
The assembled members received information with suspense and astonishment. It was even more exciting to Inspector Legrasse. He began at once to question his informant. He noted and copied an oral ritual among the swamp cult-worshippers which his men arrested. So he asked the professor to remember the syllables from the diabolist Esquimaux. There then followed an exhaustive comparison of details and a moment of silence. Both detective and scientist agreed on the identity of the phrase common to two hellish rituals. Both the Esquimaux wizards and the Louisiana swamp-priests chanted to their kindred idols strange words. They were something like this:
Phnglui mglwnafh Cthulhu Rlyeh wgahnagl fhtagn.
Legrasse said that some his mongrel prisoners told him the meaning of these words. This text meant:
In his house at Rlyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming[36].
And now Inspector Legrasse related his experience with the swamp worshippers. This is the story to which my uncle attached profound significance. It was the wildest dream of a myth-maker or a theosophist.
On November 1st, 1907, some frantic summons came to the New Orleans police from the swamp and lagoon country to the south. The people there are mostly primitive but good-natured descendants of Lafittes men[37]. They were in stark terror from an unknown thing which occurred in the night.
It was voodoo, apparently, but voodoo of the most terrible sort. Since the malevolent tom-tom[38] began its incessant beating, some of their women and children disappeared. The sounds came from the black haunted woods where no one walked. There were insane shouts and harrowing screams, soul-chilling chants and dancing devil-flames. The frightened messenger added that it was impossible to stand that.
So twenty police officers in two carriages and an automobile went there. The shivering squatter was their guide. At the end of the road they walked for miles in silence through the terrible cypress woods where day never came. Ugly roots and malignant hanging nooses of Spanish moss beset them. Finally, they saw the squatter settlement, a miserable huddle of huts. Hysterical dwellers ran out to meet them. The policemen heard the beat of tom-toms now. It was far, far ahead; and a curdling shriek came when the wind shifted. The dim red light was visible through the forrest. The squatters refused to go toward the scene of unholy worship. Inspector Legrasse and his nineteen colleagues went into black arcades of horror.
They entered that region of traditionally evil repute. White men normally did not enter it. There were legends of a hidden lake, in which dwelt a huge, formless white polypous animal with luminous eyes. Squatters whispered that bat-winged devils flew up out of caverns in inner earth to worship it at midnight. It was there before the Indians, and before even the beasts and birds of the woods. It was nightmare itself, and to see it was to die. But it was coming to people in dreams, and so they knew enough not to go there. The present voodoo orgy was, indeed, on the fringe of this area. But even that location was bad enough. Perhaps the very place of the worship terrified the squatters more than the shocking sounds and incidents.
Legrasses men went on through the black swamp toward the red glare and muffled tom-toms. There are sounds made by men, and sounds made by beasts and was terrible their dreadful combination. The policemen heard howls of animal fury and orgiastic ecstasy. The voices were like pestilential tempests from the gulfs of hell. From time to time the sounds ceased and a chorus of hoarse voices chanted that hideous phrase or ritual:
Phnglui mglwnafh Cthulhu Rlyeh wgahnagl fhtagn.
Then the men reached a spot where the trees were thinner. Four of them reeled, one fainted, and two cried frantically. Legrasse splashed some water in the face of the fainted man. They stood there, trembling and nearly hypnotized with horror.
In a natural glade of the swamp stood a grassy island. The island was of an acres extent, clear of trees and dry. On this now leaped and twisted indescribable horde of humans. They were totally naked. This hybrid spawn were braying, bellowing, and writhing about a monstrous ring-shaped bonfire. In the centre stood a great granite monolith some eight feet in height. On top of this great granite monolith rested the noxious carven statuette. Ten scaffolds were set up at regular intervals, forming a circle. From them hung, head downward, the marred bodies of the helpless disappeared squatters. Inside this circle the ring of worshippers jumped and roared. They were moving from left to right in endless dance between the ring of bodies and the ring of fire.
It may be only imagination, but one of policemen, a Spanish man, heard antiphonal responses to the ritual from some far and unillumined spot within the wood. I later met and questioned this man, Joseph D. Galvez. He said that he heard beating of great wings. He saw a glimpse of shining eyes and a mountainous white bulk beyond the remotest trees. I suppose he was a little superstitious.
But duty came first. The police relied on their firearms and went determinedly into the nauseous rout. For five minutes the chaos was beyond description. Blows were struck, shots were fired, and escapes were made. In the end Legrasse counted forty-seven sullen prisoners. He ordered to dress them and fall into line between two rows of policemen. Five of the worshippers lay dead, and two were severely wounded. Of course, Legrasse took the statuette from the monolith.
After an exhausting trip, the prisoners were examined. They were men of a very low, mixed-blooded, and mentally aberrant type[39]. Most were seamen, some Negroes and mulattoes, largely West Indians or Portuguese from the Cape Verde Islands[40]. This cult and its members looked like connected to voodooism. But before many questions, it became clear that something far deeper and older than Negro fetishism was involved.
They worshipped, so they said, the Great Old Ones[41] who lived ages before there were any men. The Great Old Ones came to the young world out of the sky. Those Old Ones were gone now, inside the earth and under the sea. Their dead bodies told their secrets in dreams to the first men, who formed a cult which never died. This was that cult. It always existed and will always exist. It is hidden in distant and dark places all over the world. The time will come when the great priest Cthulhu, from his dark house in the mighty city of Rlyeh under the waters will rise and rule the earth. Some day, when the stars are ready, he will call. The secret cult will always wait to liberate him.
They refused to tell more. There was a secret and it was impossible to extract it. Mankind was not absolutely alone among the conscious things of earth. Some shapes came out of the dark to visit the faithful few[42]. But these were not the Great Old Ones. No man saw the Old Ones. The carven idol was great Cthulhu, but nobody can say how the others look like. No one was able to read the old writing now. The things were told by word of mouth. The chanted ritual was not the secret. The chant meant only this:
In his house at Rlyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.[43]
Only two of the prisoners were found sane enough to hang them. The rest were taken to various hospitals. All denied ritual murders, and said that the killing was done by Black Winged Ones[44] which came to them from their immemorial meeting-place in the haunted wood. But nobody wanted to talk about these mysterious allies. What the police learned, came mainly from the very old mestizo named Castro[45]. Castro sailed to different ports and talked with undying leaders of the cult in the mountains of China.
Old Castro remembered bits of hideous legend that made man and the world seem recent and transient indeed. There were ages when other Creatures ruled on the earth and They had great cities. The deathless Chinamen told him that remains of Them can still be found as Cyclopean stones on islands in the Pacific[46]. They all died long ago before men came. But it is possible to revive Them when the stars came round again to the right positions in the cycle of eternity. They came themselves from the stars, and brought Their images with Them.
These Great Old Ones, Castro continued, were not composed altogether of flesh and blood. They had shape but that shape was not made of matter. When the stars were right[47], They could travel from world to world through the sky. When the stars were wrong, They did not live.
But although They no longer lived, They never really died.
They all lie in stone houses in Their great city of Rlyeh, preserved by the spells of mighty Cthulhu for a glorious resurrection when the stars and the earth once again are ready for Them. But at that time some force from outside must serve to liberate Their bodies. The spells prevent Them from an initial move. They can only lie awake in the dark and think while millions of years pass by. They know all that is occurring in the universe. Their mode of speech is transmitted thought. Even now They talked in Their tombs. When, after infinities of chaos, the first men came, the Great Old Ones spoke to the sensitive among them forming their dreams. Only thus could Their language reach the fleshly minds.
Then, whispered Castro, those first men formed the cult around tall idols which the Great Ones showed them. Idols were brought in dim eras from dark stars. That cult will never die till the stars come right again. The secret priests will take great Cthulhu from His tomb to revive His servants and resume His rule of earth. It will be easy to know this time has come. Mankind will become as the Great Old Ones; free and wild and beyond good and evil. The people will throw aside laws and morals. And all men will shout and kill and revel in joy. Then the liberated Old Ones will teach them new ways to shout and kill and revel and enjoy themselves. All the earth will flame with a great fire of ecstasy and freedom. Meanwhile the cult, by appropriate rites, must keep alive the memory of those ancient ways and tell about their return.
In the elder time chosen men talked with the entombed Old Ones in dreams. Then something happened. The great stone city Rlyeh, with its monoliths and sepulchres, sank beneath the waves. The deep waters, full of the primal mystery, cut off the communication. No thought can pass through them. But memory never died. The high-priests say that the city will rise again when the stars are right. Then the black spirits of earth will come out of the earth, mouldy and shadowy, and full of dim rumours. But old Castro dared not speak much of them.
He became silent hurriedly and said nothing more. He curiously declined to mention the size of the Old Ones, too. Of the cult, he said that he thought the centre lay amid the pathless desert of Arabia, where Irem, the City of Pillars[48], dreams hidden and untouched. It was not connected to the European witch-cult, and was virtually unknown beyond its members. No book ever mentioned it. Only in the Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, as the deathless Chinamen said were double meanings, which the initiated can read, especially the this couplet: