Lovecraft, H P - The Whisperer In Darkness

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The Whisperer in Darkness

by H. P. Lovecraft

Written 24 Feb-26 Sept 1930

Published August 1931 in Weird Tales, Vol. 18, No. 1, p. 32-73

Bear in mind closely that I did not see any actual visual horror at the end. To say that a

mental shock was the cause of what I inferred - that last straw which sent me racing out

of the lonely Akeley farmhouse and through the wild domed hills of Vermont in a

commandeered motor at night - is to ignore the plainest facts of my final experience.

Notwithstanding the deep things I saw and heard, and the admitted vividness the

impression produced on me by these things, I cannot prove even now whether I was right

or wrong in my hideous inference. For after all Akeley's disappearance establishes

nothing. People found nothing amiss in his house despite the bullet-marks on the outside

and inside. It was just as though he had walked out casually for a ramble in the hills and

failed to return. There was not even a sign that a guest had been there, or that those

horrible cylinders and machines had been stored in the study. That he had mortally feared

the crowded green hills and endless trickle of brooks among which he had been born and

reared, means nothing at all, either; for thousands are subject to just such morbid fears.

Eccentricity, moreover, could easily account for his strange acts and apprehensions

toward the last.

The whole matter began, so far as I am concerned, with the historic and unprecedented

Vermont floods of November 3, 1927. I was then, as now, an instructor of literature at

Miskatonic University in Arkham, Massachusetts, and an enthusiastic amateur student of

New England folklore. Shortly after the flood, amidst the varied reports of hardship,

suffering, and organized relief which filled the press, there appeared certain odd stories of

things found floating in some of the swollen rivers; so that many of my friends embarked

on curious discussions and appealed to me to shed what light I could on the subject. I felt

flattered at having my folklore study taken so seriously, and did what I could to belittle

the wild, vague tales which seemed so clearly an outgrowth of old rustic superstitions. It

amused me to find several persons of education who insisted that some stratum of

obscure, distorted fact might underlie the rumors.

The tales thus brought to my notice came mostly through newspaper cuttings; though one

yarn had an oral source and was repeated to a friend of mine in a letter from his mother in

Hardwick, Vermont. The type of thing described was essentially the same in all cases,

though there seemed to be three separate instances involved - one connected with the

Winooski River near Montpelier, another attached to the West River in Windham County

beyond Newfane, and a third centering in the Passumpsic in Caledonia County above

Lyndonville. Of course many of the stray items mentioned other instances, but on

analysis they all seemed to boil down to these three. In each case country folk reported

The Whisperer in Darkness

seeing one or more very bizarre and disturbing objects in the surging waters that poured

down from the unfrequented hills, and there was a widespread tendency to connect these

sights with a primitive, half-forgotten cycle of whispered legend which old people

resurrected for the occasion.

What people thought they saw were organic shapes not quite like any they had ever seen

before. Naturally, there were many human bodies washed along by the streams in that

tragic period; but those who described these strange shapes felt quite sure that they were

not human, despite some superficial resemblances in size and general outline. Nor, said

the witnesses, could they have been any kind of animal known to Vermont. They were

pinkish things about five feet long; with crustaceous bodies bearing vast pairs of dorsal

fins or membranous wings and several sets of articulated limbs, and with a sort of

convoluted ellipsoid, covered with multitudes of very short antennae, where a head would

ordinarily be. It was really remarkable how closely the reports from different sources

tended to coincide; though the wonder was lessened by the fact that the old legends,

shared at one time throughout the hill country, furnished a morbidly vivid picture which

might well have coloured the imaginations of all the witnesses concerned. It was my

conclusion that such witnesses - in every case naive and simple backwoods folk - had

glimpsed the battered and bloated bodies of human beings or farm animals in the whirling

currents; and had allowed the half-remembered folklore to invest these pitiful objects

with fantastic attributes.

The ancient folklore, while cloudy, evasive, and largely forgotten by the present

generation, was of a highly singular character, and obviously reflected the influence of

still earlier Indian tales. I knew it well, though I had never been in Vermont, through the

exceedingly rare monograph of Eli Davenport, which embraces material orally obtained

prior to 1839 among the oldest people of the state. This material, moreover, closely

coincided with tales which I had personally heard from elderly rustics in the mountains of

New Hampshire. Briefly summarized, it hinted at a hidden race of monstrous beings

which lurked somewhere among the remoter hills - in the deep woods of the highest

peaks, and the dark valleys where streams trickle from unknown sources. These beings

were seldom glimpsed, but evidences of their presence were reported by those who had

ventured farther than usual up the slopes of certain mountains or into certain deep, steep-

sided gorges that even the wolves shunned.

There were queer footprints or claw-prints in the mud of brook-margins and barren

patches, and curious circles of stones, with the grass around them worn away, which did

not seem to have been placed or entirely shaped by Nature. There were, too, certain caves

of problematical depth in the sides of the hills; with mouths closed by boulders in a

manner scarcely accidental, and with more than an average quota of the queer prints

leading both toward and away from them - if indeed the direction of these prints could be

justly estimated. And worst of all, there were the things which adventurous people had

seen very rarely in the twilight of the remotest valleys and the dense perpendicular woods

above the limits of normal hill-climbing.

The Whisperer in Darkness

It would have been less uncomfortable if the stray accounts of these things had not agreed

so well. As it was, nearly all the rumors had several points in common; averring that the

creatures were a sort of huge, light-red crab with many pairs of legs and with two great

batlike wings in the middle of the back. They sometimes walked on all their legs, and

sometimes on the hindmost pair only, using the others to convey large objects of

indeterminate nature. On one occasion they were spied in considerable numbers, a

detachment of them wading along a shallow woodland watercourse three abreast in

evidently disciplined formation. Once a specimen was seen flying - launching itself from

the top of a bald, lonely hill at night and vanishing in the sky after its great flapping

wings had been silhouetted an instant against the full moon

These things seemed content, on the whole, to let mankind alone; though they were at

times held responsible for the disappearance of venturesome individuals - especially

persons who built houses too close to certain valleys or too high up on certain mountains.

Many localities came to be known as inadvisable to settle in, the feeling persisting long

after the cause was forgotten. People would look up at some of the neighbouring

mountain-precipices with a shudder, even when not recalling how many settlers had been

lost, and how many farmhouses burnt to ashes, on the lower slopes of those grim, green

sentinels.

But while according to the earliest legends the creatures would appear to have harmed

only those trespassing on their privacy; there were later accounts of their curiosity

respecting men, and of their attempts to establish secret outposts in the human world.

There were tales of the queer claw-prints seen around farmhouse windows in the

morning, and of occasional disappearances in regions outside the obviously haunted

areas. Tales, besides, of buzzing voices in imitation of human speech which made

surprising offers to lone travelers on roads and cart-paths in the deep woods, and of

children frightened out of their wits by things seen or heard where the primal forest

pressed close upon their door-yards. In the final layer of legends - the layer just preceding

the decline of superstition and the abandonment of close contact with the dreaded places -

there are shocked references to hermits and remote farmers who at some period of life

appeared to have undergone a repellent mental change, and who were shunned and

whispered about as mortals who had sold themselves to the strange beings. In one of the

northeastern counties it seemed to be a fashion about 1800 to accuse eccentric and

unpopular recluses of being allies or representatives of the abhorred things.

As to what the things were - explanations naturally varied. The common name applied to

them was "those ones," or "the old ones," though other terms had a local and transient

use. Perhaps the bulk of the Puritan settlers set them down bluntly as familiars of the

devil, and made them a basis of awed theological speculation. Those with Celtic legendry

in their heritage - mainly the Scotch-Irish element of New Hampshire, and their kindred

who had settled in Vermont on Governor Wentworth's colonial grants - linked them

vaguely with the malign fairies and "little people" of the bogs and raths, and protected

themselves with scraps of incantation handed down through many generations. But the

Indians had the most fantastic theories of all. While different tribal legends differed, there

The Whisperer in Darkness

was a marked consensus of belief in certain vital particulars; it being unanimously agreed

that the creatures were not native to this earth.

The Pennacook myths, which were the most consistent and picturesque, taught that the

Winged Ones came from the Great Bear in the sky, and had mines in our earthly hills

whence they took a kind of stone they could not get on any other world. They did not live

here, said the myths, but merely maintained outposts and flew back with vast cargoes of

stone to their own stars in the north. They harmed only those earth-people who got too

near them or spied upon them. Animals shunned them through instinctive hatred, not

because of being hunted. They could not eat the things and animals of earth, but brought

their own food from the stars. It was bad to get near them, and sometimes young hunters

who went into their hills never came back. It was not good, either, to listen to what they

whispered at night in the forest with voices like a bee's that tried to be like the voices of

men. They knew the speech of all kinds of men - Pennacooks, Hurons, men of the Five

Nations - but did not seem to have or need any speech of their own. They talked with

their heads, which changed colour in different ways to mean different things.

All the legendry, of course, white and Indian alike, died down during the nineteenth

century, except for occasional atavistical flareups. The ways of the Vermonters became

settled; and once their habitual paths and dwellings were established according to a

certain fixed plan, they remembered less and less what fears and avoidances had

determined that plan, and even that there had been any fears or avoidances. Most people

simply knew that certain hilly regions were considered as highly unhealthy, unprofitable,

and generally unlucky to live in, and that the farther one kept from them the better off one

usually was. In time the ruts of custom and economic interest became so deeply cut in

approved places that there was no longer any reason for going outside them, and the

haunted hills were left deserted by accident rather than by design. Save during infrequent

local scares, only wonder-loving grandmothers and retrospective nonagenarians ever

whispered of beings dwelling in those hills; and even such whispers admitted that there

was not much to fear from those things now that they were used to the presence of houses

and settlements, and now that human beings let their chosen territory severely alone.

All this I had long known from my reading, and from certain folk tales picked up in New

Hampshire; hence when the flood-time rumours began to appear, I could easily guess

what imaginative background had evolved them. I took great pains to explain this to my

friends, and was correspondingly amused when several contentious souls continued to

insist on a possible element of truth in the reports. Such persons tried to point out that the

early legends had a significant persistence and uniformity, and that the virtually

unexplored nature of the Vermont hills made it unwise to be dogmatic about what might

or might not dwell among them; nor could they be silenced by my assurance that all the

myths were of a well-known pattern common to most of mankind and determined by

early phases of imaginative experience which always produced the same type of delusion.

It was of no use to demonstrate to such opponents that the Vermont myths differed but

little in essence from those universal legends of natural personification which filled the

ancient world with fauns and dryads and satyrs, suggested the kallikanzarai of modern

The Whisperer in Darkness

Greece, and gave to wild Wales and Ireland their dark hints of strange, small, and terrible

hidden races of troglodytes and burrowers. No use, either, to point out the even more

startlingly similar belief of the Nepalese hill tribes in the dreaded Mi-Go or "Abominable

Snow-Men" who lurk hideously amidst the ice and rock pinnacles of the Himalayan

summits. When I brought up this evidence, my opponents turned it against me by

claiming that it must imply some actual historicity for the ancient tales; that it must argue

the real existence of some queer elder earth-race, driven to hiding after the advent and

dominance of mankind, which might very conceivably have survived in reduced numbers

to relatively recent times - or even to the present.

The more I laughed at such theories, the more these stubborn friends asseverated them;

adding that even without the heritage of legend the recent reports were too clear,

consistent, detailed, and sanely prosaic in manner of telling, to be completely ignored.

Two or three fanatical extremists went so far as to hint at possible meanings in the

ancient Indian tales which gave the hidden beings a nonterrestrial origin; citing the

extravagant books of Charles Fort with their claims that voyagers from other worlds and

outer space have often visited the earth. Most of my foes, however, were merely

romanticists who insisted on trying to transfer to real life the fantastic lore of lurking

"little people" made popular by the magnificent horror-fiction of Arthur Machen.

As was only natural under the circumstances, this piquant debating finally got into print

in the form of letters to the Arkham Advertiser; some of which were copied in the press

of those Vermont regions whence the flood-stories came. The Rutland Herald gave half a

page of extracts from the letters on both sides, while the Brattleboro Reformer reprinted

one of my long historical and mythological summaries in full, with some accompanying

comments in "The Pendrifter's" thoughtful column which supported and applauded my

skeptical conclusions. By the spring of 1928 I was almost a well-known figure in

Vermont, notwithstanding the fact that I had never set foot in the state. Then came the

challenging letters from Henry Akeley which impressed me so profoundly, and which

took me for the first and last time to that fascinating realm of crowded green precipices

and muttering forest streams.

Most of what I know of Henry Wentworth Akeley was gathered by correspondence with

his neighbours, and with his only son in California, after my experience in his lonely

farmhouse. He was, I discovered, the last representative on his home soil of a long,

locally distinguished line of jurists, administrators, and gentlemen-agriculturists. In him,

however, the family mentally had veered away from practical affairs to pure scholarship;

so that he had been a notable student of mathematics, astronomy, biology, anthropology,

and folklore at the University of Vermont. I had never previously heard of him, and he

did not give many autobiographical details in his communications; but from the first I

saw he was a man of character, education, and intelligence, albeit a recluse with very

little worldly sophistication.

The Whisperer in Darkness

Despite the incredible nature of what he claimed, I could not help at once taking Akeley

more seriously than I had taken any of the other challengers of my views. For one thing,

he was really close to the actual phenomena - visible and tangible - that he speculated so

grotesquely about; and for another thing, he was amazingly willing to leave his

conclusions in a tenative state like a true man of science. He had no personal preferences

to advance, and was always guided by what he took to be solid evidence. Of course I

began by considering him mistaken, but gave him credit for being intelligently mistaken;

and at no time did I emulate some of his friends in attributing his ideas, and his fear of the

lonely green hills, to insanity. I could see that there was a great deal to the man, and knew

that what he reported must surely come from strange circumstance deserving

investigation, however little it might have to do with the fantastic causes he assigned.

Later on I received from him certain material proofs which placed the matter on a

somewhat different and bewilderingly bizarre basis.

I cannot do better than transcribe in full, so far as is possible, the long letter in which

Akeley introduced himself, and which formed such an important landmark in my own

intellectual history. It is no longer in my possession, but my memory holds almost every

word of its portentous message; and again I affirm my confidence in the sanity of the man

who wrote it. Here is the text - a text which reached me in the cramped, archaic-looking

scrawl of one who had obviously not mingled much with the world during his sedate,

scholarly life.

R.F.D. #2,

Townshend, Windham Co., Vermont.

May 5,1928

Albert N. Wilmarth, Esq.,

118 Saltonstall St.,

Arkham, Mass.

My Dear Sir:

I have read with great interest the Brattleboro Reformer's reprint (Apr. 23, '28) of your

letter on the recent stories of strange bodies seen floating in our flooded streams last fall,

and on the curious folklore they so well agree with. It is easy to see why an outlander

would take the position you take, and even why "Pendrifter" agrees with you. That is the

attitude generally taken by educated persons both in and out of Vermont, and was my

own attitude as a young man (I am now 57) before my studies, both general and in

Davenport's book, led me to do some exploring in parts of the hills hereabouts not usually

visited.

I was directed toward such studies by the queer old tales I used to hear from elderly

farmers of the more ignorant sort, but now I wish I had let the whole matter alone. I

might say, with all proper modesty, that the subject of anthropology and folklore is by no

means strange to me. I took a good deal of it at college, and am familiar with most of the

standard authorities such as Tylor, Lubbock, Frazer, Quatrefages, Murray, Osborn, Keith,

Boule, G. Elliott Smith, and so on. It is no news to me that tales of hidden races are as old

as all mankind. I have seen the reprints of letters from you, and those agreeing with you,

in the Rutland Herald, and guess I know about where your controversy stands at the

present time.

The Whisperer in Darkness

What I desire to say now is, that I am afraid your adversaries are nearer right than

yourself, even though all reason seems to be on your side. They are nearer right than they

realise themselves - for of course they go only by theory, and cannot know what I know.

If I knew as little of the matter as they, I would feel justified in believing as they do. I

would be wholly on your side.

You can see that I am having a hard time getting to the point, probably because I really

dread getting to the point; but the upshot of the matter is that I have certain evidence that

monstrous things do indeed live in the woods on the high hills which nobody visits. I have

not seen any of the things floating in the rivers, as reported, but I have seen things like

them under circumstances I dread to repeat. I have seen footprints, and of late have seen

them nearer my own home (I live in the old Akeley place south of Townshend Village,

on the side of Dark Mountain) than I dare tell you now. And I have overheard voices in

the woods at certain points that I will not even begin to describe on paper.

At one place I heard them so much that I took a phonograph therewith a dictaphone

attachment and wax blank - and I shall try to arrange to have you hear the record I got. I

have run it on the machine for some of the old people up here, and one of the voices had

nearly scared them paralysed by reason of its likeness to a certain voice (that buzzing

voice in the woods which Davenport mentions) that their grandmothers have told about

and mimicked for them. I know what most people think of a man who tells about

"hearing voices" - but before you draw conclusions just listen to this record and ask some

of the older backwoods people what they think of it. If you can account for it normally,

very well; but there must be something behind it. Ex nihilo nihil fit, you know.

Now my object in writing you is not to start an argument but to give you information

which I think a man of your tastes will find deeply interesting. This is private. Publicly I

am on your side, for certain things show me that it does not do for people to know too

much about these matters. My own studies are now wholly private, and I would not think

of saying anything to attract people's attention and cause them to visit the places I have

explored. It is true - terribly true - that there are non-human creatures watching us all the

time; with spies among us gathering information. It is from a wretched man who, if he

was sane (as I think he was) was one of those spies, that I got a large part of my clues to

the matter. He later killed himself, but I have reason to think there are others now.

The things come from another planet, being able to live in interstellar space and fly

through it on clumsy, powerful wings which have a way of resisting the aether but which

are too poor at steering to be of much use in helping them about on earth. I will tell you

about this later if you do not dismiss me at once as a madman. They come here to get

metals from mines that go deep under the hills, and I think I know where they come from.

They will not hurt us if we let them alone, but no one can say what will happen if we get

too curious about them. Of course a good army of men could wipe out their mining

colony. That is what they are afraid of. But if that happened, more would come from

outside - any number of them. They could easily conquer the earth, but have not tried so

far because they have not needed to. They would rather leave things as they are to save

bother.

I think they mean to get rid of me because of what I have discovered. There is a great

black stone with unknown hieroglyphics half worn away which I found in the woods on

Round Hill, east of here; and after I took it home everything became different. If they

think I suspect too much they will either kill me or take me off the earth to where they

come from. They like to take away men of learning once in a while, to keep informed on

the state of things in the human world.

The Whisperer in Darkness

This leads me to my secondary purpose in addressing you - namely, to urge you to hush

up the present debate rather than give it more publicity. People must be kept away from

these hills, and in order to effect this, their curiosity ought not to be aroused any further.

Heaven knows there is peril enough anyway, with promoters and real estate men flooding

Vermont with herds of summer people to overrun the wild places and cover the hills with

cheap bungalows.

I shall welcome further communication with you, and shall try to send you that

phonograph record and black stone (which is so worn that photographs don't show much)

by express if you are willing. I say "try" because I think those creatures have a way of

tampering with things around here. There is a sullen furtive fellow named Brown, on a

farm near the village, who I think is their spy. Little by little they are trying to cut me off

from our world because I know too much about their world.

They have the most amazing way of finding out what I do. You may not even get this

letter. I think I shall have to leave this part of the country and go live with my son in San

Diego, Cal., if things get any worse, but it is not easy to give up the place you were born

in, and where your family has lived for six generations. Also, I would hardly dare sell this

house to anybody now that the creatures have taken notice of it. They seem to be trying to

get the black stone back and destroy the phonograph record, but I shall not let them if I

can help it. My great police dogs always hold them back, for there are very few here as

yet, and they are clumsy in getting about. As I have said, their wings are not much use for

short flights on earth. I am on the very brink of deciphering that stone - in a very terrible

way - and with your knowledge of folklore you may be able to supply the missing links

enough to help me. I suppose you know all about the fearful myths antedating the coming

of man to the earth - the Yog-Sothoth and Cthulhu cycles - which are hinted at in the

Necronomicon. I had access to a copy of that once, and hear that you have one in your

college library under lock and key.

To conclude, Mr. Wilmarth, I think that with our respective studies we can be very useful

to each other. I don't wish to put you in any peril, and suppose I ought to warn you that

possession of the stone and the record won't be very safe; but I think you will find any

risks worth running for the sake of knowledge. I will drive down to Newfane or

Brattleboro to send whatever you authorize me to send, for the express offices there are

more to be trusted. I might say that I live quite alone now, since I can't keep hired help

any more. They won't stay because of the things that try to get near the house at night,

and that keep the dogs barking continually. I am glad I didn't get as deep as this into the

business while my wife was alive, for it would have driven her mad.

Hoping that I am not bothering you unduly, and that you will decide to get in touch with

me rather than throw this letter into the waste basket as a madman's raving, I am

Yrs. very truly,

Henry W. Akeley

P.S. I am making some extra prints of certain photographs taken by me, which I think

will help to prove a number of the points I have touched on. The old people think they are

monstrously true. I shall send you these very soon if you are interested.

H. W. A.

It would be difficult to describe my sentiments upon reading this strange document for

the first time. By all ordinary rules, I ought to have laughed more loudly at these

extravagances than at the far milder theories which had previously moved me to mirth;

The Whisperer in Darkness

yet something in the tone of the letter made me take it with paradoxical seriousness. Not

that I believed for a moment in the hidden race from the stars which my correspondent

spoke of; but that, after some grave preliminary doubts, I grew to feel oddly sure of his

sanity and sincerity, and of his confrontation by some genuine though singular and

abnormal phenomenon which he could not explain except in this imaginative way. It

could not be as he thought it, I reflected, yet on the other hand, it could not be otherwise

than worthy of investigation. The man seemed unduly excited and alarmed about

something, but it was hard to think that all cause was lacking. He was so specific and

logical in certain ways - and after all, his yarn did fit in so perplexingly well with some of

the old myths - even the wildest Indian legends.

That he had really overheard disturbing voices in the hills, and had really found the black

stone he spoke about, was wholly possible despite the crazy inferences he had made -

inferences probably suggested by the man who had claimed to be a spy of the outer

beings and had later killed himself. It was easy to deduce that this man must have been

wholly insane, but that he probably had a streak of perverse outward logic which made

the naive Akeley - already prepared for such things by his folklore studies - believe his

tale. As for the latest developments - it appeared from his inability to keep hired help that

Akeley's humbler rustic neighbours were as convinced as he that his house was besieged

by uncanny things at night. The dogs really barked, too.

And then the matter of that phonograph record, which I could not but believe he had

obtained in the way he said. It must mean something; whether animal noises deceptively

like human speech, or the speech of some hidden, night-haunting human being decayed

to a state not much above that of lower animals. From this my thoughts went back to the

black hieroglyphed stone, and to speculations upon what it might mean. Then, too, what

of the photographs which Akeley said he was about to send, and which the old people

had found so convincingly terrible?

As I re-read the cramped handwriting I felt as never before that my credulous opponents

might have more on their side than I had conceded. After all, there might be some queer

and perhaps hereditarily misshapen outcasts in those shunned hills, even though no such

race of star-born monsters as folklore claimed. And if there were, then the presence of

strange bodies in the flooded streams would not be wholly beyond belief. Was it too

presumptuous to suppose that both the old legends and the recent reports had this much

of reality behind them? But even as I harboured these doubts I felt ashamed that so

fantastic a piece of bizarrerie as Henry Akeley's wild letter had brought them up.

In the end I answered Akeley's letter, adopting a tone of friendly interest and soliciting

further particulars. His reply came almost by return mail; and contained, true to promise,

a number of Kodak views of scenes and objects illustrating what he had to tell. Glancing

at these pictures as I took them from the envelope, I felt a curious sense of fright and

nearness to forbidden things; for in spite of the vagueness of most of them, they had a

damnably suggestive power which was intensified by the fact of their being genuine

photographs - actual optical links with what they portrayed, and the product of an

impersonal transmitting process without prejudice, fallibility, or mendacity.

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TheWhispererinDarknessTheWhispererinDarknessbyH.P.LovecraftWritten24Feb-26Sept1930PublishedAugust1931inWeirdTales,Vol.18,No.1,p.32-73IBearinmindcloselythatIdidnotseeanyactualvisualhorrorattheend.TosaythatamentalshockwasthecauseofwhatIinferred-thatlaststrawwhichsentmeracingoutofthelonelyAkeleyfarmhou...

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Lovecraft, H P - The Whisperer In Darkness

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