August 23, 2021 • 12 mins
"The Statement of Randolph Carter" is a short story by American writer H. P. Lovecraft. Written in December 1919, it was first published in The Vagrant, May 1920. It tells of a traumatic event in the life of Randolph Carter, a student of the occult loosely representing Lovecraft himself.
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(00:00):
The statement of Randolph Carter by H. P. Lovecraft. Again, I
say, I do not know whathas become of Harley worn, though I
think almost hope that he is inpeaceful oblivion, if there be anywhere so
blessed a thing. It is truethat I have for five years been his
closest friend and a partial sharer ofhis terrible researches into the unknown. I
(00:22):
will not deny, though my memoryis uncertain and indistinct, that this witness
of years may have seen us together, as he says, on the Gainesville
Pike, walking toward Big Cypress Swampat half past eleven, on that awful
night, that we bore electric lanterns, spades in a curious coil of wire
with attached instruments. I will evenaffirm for these things all played a part
(00:43):
in the single hideous scene which remainsburied in my shaken recollection. But of
what fouled, and of the reasonI was found alone and days on the
edge of the swamp the next morning, I must insist that I know nothing
save what I was told over andover again. You say to me that
there is nothing in the swamp ornearer at which I could form the setting
of that awful episode. I repliedthat I knew nothing beyond what I saw,
(01:08):
vision or nightmare. It may havebeen vision or nightmare, I fervidently
hope it was. Yet it isall that my mind retains of what took
place in those shocking hours after weleft the sight of men, and why
Harley Warn did not return, Heor his shade, or some nameless thing
I cannot describe alone can tell.As I have said before, the weird
(01:30):
studies of Harley Worn were well knownto me, and to some extent shared
by me. Of his vast collectionof strange, rare books on forbidden subjects.
I have read all that are writtenin the languages of which I am
master, but these are few ascompared with those languages I can understand.
Most, I believe, are inArabic, and the fiend inspired book which
brought on the end, The bookwhich he carried in his pocket out of
(01:53):
this world, was written in characterswhose like I never saw elsewhere. Warren
would never tell me just what wasthe book. As to the natures of
our studies, must I say againthat I no longer retain full comprehension.
It seems to me rather merciful thatI do not, for they were terrible
studies which I pursued more through reluctantfascination than through actual inclination. Warren always
(02:15):
dominated me, and sometimes I fearedhim. I remember how I shuddered at
his facial expressions on the night beforethe awful happenings, when he talked so
incessantly of his theory why certain corpsesnever decay, but rest firm and fat
in their tomb for a thousand years. But I do not fear him now,
for I suspect that he has knownhorrors beyond my ken. Now I
(02:38):
fear for him once more. Isay that I have no clear idea of
our object on that night. Certainlyit had much to do with something in
the book which Warren carried with him, that ancient book in undecipherable characters,
which had come to him from Indiaa month before, But I swear I
do not know what it was.We expected to find you're And it says
(03:00):
he saw us at half past elevenon the Gainesville Pike, headed for Big
Cypress Swamp. This is probably true, but I have no distinct memory of
it. The picture seared into mysoul. As once seen only, and
the hour must have been long aftermidnight, for a waning crescent moon was
high in the vapor's heavens. Theplace was an ancient cemetery, so ancient
(03:22):
that I trembled at the manifold signsof immemorial years. It was in a
deep, damp hollow, overgrown withrank grass, moss, and curious creeping
weeds, and filled with a vaguestench which my idle fancy associated absurdedly with
riding stone. On every hand werethe signs of neglect and decrepitude, and
I seemed haunted by the notion thatWarren and I were the first living creatures
(03:45):
to invade a lethal silence of centuries. Over the valley's rim, A waning
crescent moon peered through the noisome vaporsthat seemed to emanate from unheard of catacombs,
and by its feeble wavering beams,I could distinguish a repellent array of
antique slabs, urns, cenotaphs,and mausoleum facades, all crumbling moss,
(04:06):
grown in moisture, stained and partlyconcealed by the gross luxuriance of the unhealthy
vegetation. My first vivid impression ofmy own presence in this terrible necropolis concerns
the act of pausing with Warren beforea certain half a blidated sepulcher, and
of throwing down some burdens which weseemed to have been carrying. I now
(04:28):
observed that I had with me anelectric lantern and two spades, whilst my
companion was supplied with a similar lanternand a portiful telephone outfit. No word
was uttered for the spot, andthe tasks seemed known to us, and
without delay we seized our spades.It commenced to clear away the grass weeds
and drifted earth from the flat archaicmortuary. After uncovering the entire scene,
(04:49):
which consisted of three immense granite slabs, we stepped back some distance to survey
the carnal scene, and Warren appearedto make some mental calculation. Then he
returned to the sepulcher, and,using his spade as a lever, sought
to pry up the slab lying nearestto the stony ruin, which may have
been a monumented instay. He didnot succeed in motion to me to come
(05:12):
to his assistance. Finally, ourcombined strength loosened the stone, which we
raised and tipped to one side.The removal of the slab revealed a black
aperture, from which rushed an affluenceof my asthmal gases, so nauseous that
we started back in horror. Afteran interval, however, we approached the
pit again and found the exhalations lessunbearable. Our lanterns disclosed the top of
(05:38):
a flight of stone steps, drippingwith some detestable ichor of the inner earth,
and bordered by moist walls encrusted withniter. And now, for the
first time, my memory records verbaldiscourse Wren addressing me at length in his
mellow tenor voice, a voice singularlyunperturbed by our awesome surroundings. I'm sorry
(05:59):
to have to ask you to sand'ssurface, he said, but to be
a crime to let anyone with yourfrail nerves go down there. You can't
imagine, even from what you've readand what I've told you, that things
I shall have to see and do. It's fiendish work, Carter, and
I doubt if any man with ironcladsensibilities could ever see it through and come
up alive, and saying, Idon't wish to offend you, and Heaven
(06:20):
knows, I'd be glad enough tohave you with me. But the responsibility
is in a certain sense mine,and I couldn't drag a bundle of nerves
like you down to probable death ormadness. I tell you you can't imagine
what the thing is really like,but I promised to keep you informed over
the telephone of every move you see. I have enough wire here to reach
(06:41):
the center of the earth and back. I can still hear in memory those
coolly spoken words, and I canstill remember my remonstrances. I seem desperately
anxious to accompany my friend into thosesupple, curled depths, yet he proved
inflexibly obdurate. At one time hethreatened to abandon the expedition if I remained
insistent, a threat which proved effective, since he alone held the key to
(07:02):
the thing. All this I canremember, though I no longer know what
manner of thing we sought. Afterhe had obtained my reluctant acquiescence in his
design, Warren picked up the reelof wire and adjusted the instruments at his
nod. I took one of theladder and seated myself upon an aged,
discolored gravestone close by the newly uncoveredaperture. Then he shook my hand,
(07:25):
shouldered the coil of wire, anddisappeared within that indescribable ostuary. For a
minute, I kept the sight ofthe glow of his lantern, and heard
the rustle of the wire as helaid it down after him. But the
glow soon disappeared abruptly, as ifa turn in the stone staircase had been
encountered, and the sound died awayalmost as quickly. I was alone,
(07:45):
yet, bound to the unknown depthsby those magic strands, whose insulated surface
lay green beneath the struggling beams ofthat waning crescent moon. I constantly consulted
my watch by the light of myelectric lantern, and listened with feverish anxiety
at the receiver of the telephone.But for more than a quarter of an
hour heard nothing. Then a faintclicking came from the instrument, and I
(08:07):
called down to my friend with atense voice. Apprehensive as I was,
I was nevertheless unprepared for the wordswhich came up from the uncanny vault in
accents, more alarmed and quivering thanany I had heard before. From Harley
Warren, he who was so calmlyleft me a little while previously, now
called from below in a shaky whisper, more portentous than the loudest shriek.
(08:30):
God, if you could see whatI am seeing. I could not answer,
speechless, I could only wait.Then came the frenzied tones again,
Carter, It's terrible, monstrous,unbelievable. This time my voice did not
unfail me, and I poured intothe transmitter flood of excited questions. Terrified,
I continued to repeat, Warren,what is it? What is it?
Once more came the voice of myfriend, still hoarse with fear and
(08:54):
now apparently tinged with despair. Ican't tell you, Carter, it's too
utterly beyond thought. I dare nottell you. No man could know it
and live. Great God, Inever dreamed of this stillness again, save
for my now incoherent torrent of shudderinginquiry than the voice of Warren, and
a pitch of wilder consternation. Carter, for the love of God, put
back the slab and get out ofthis. If you can quick leave everything
(09:16):
else and make for the outside,it's your only chance. Do as I
say, and don't ask me toexplain. I heard, it was able
only to repeat my frantic questions.Around me were the tombs, and the
darkness, and the shadows below mesome peril beyond the radius of the human
imagination. But my friend was ingreater danger than I, and through my
fear I felt a vague resentment thathe should deem me capable of deserting him
(09:39):
under such circumstances. More clicking,and after a pause of piteous cry from
Warren, beat it, for God'ssakes, put back the slab and beat
it. Carter. Something in theboyish slang of my evidently stricken companion unleashed
my faculties. I formed and shouteda resolution, warn brace yourself on coming
down. But at this offer,the tone of my auditor changed to a
(10:03):
scream of utter despair. Don't youcan't understand it's too late in my own
fault. Put back the slab andrun. There's nothing else, you horny,
when it can do now? Thetone changed again, this time acquiring
a softer quality as of hopeless resignation, Yet it remained tense through anxiety for
me, quick before it's too late. I tried not to heed him.
(10:26):
Tried to break through the prowsis whichheld me and to fulfill my vow to
rush down to his aid. Buthis next whisper found me and still held
inert in the chain of stark horror. Carter, hurry, it's no use.
You must go better one than two. The slab a pause, more
clicking than the faint voice of Warrennearly over. Now, don't make it
(10:50):
harder, Cover up those damn stepsand run for your life. You're losing
time so long, Carter won't seeyou again. Here. Warren's whispers swelled
into a cry, a cry thatgradually rose to a shriek. With all
the horrors of the ages, cursed, these allish things, legions, my
God, beat it, beat it, beat it. After that was silence.
(11:13):
I know not how many interminable eonsI sat, stupefied, whispering,
muttering, calling, screaming into thattelephone over and over again. Through those
eons, I whispered and muttered,called, shouted and screamed Warren, Warren,
answer me, are you there?And then there came to me the
crowning horror of all the unbelievable,unthinkable, almost unmentionable thing I have said
(11:35):
that EANs seemed to elapse after Warrenshrieked forth his last despairing warning, and
that only my own cries now brokethe hideous silence. But after a while
there was a further clicking in thereceiver, and I strained my ears to
listen again. I called down,warn, are you there? And an
answer heard the thing which had broughtthis cloud over my mind. I do
(11:58):
not try, gentlemen, to accountfor that thing, that voice, nor
can I venture to describe it indetail, since the first words took away
my consciousness and created a mental blankwhich reaches to the time of my awakening
in the hospital. Shall I saythat the voice was deep, hollow,
gelatinous, remote, unearthly, inhuman, disembodied. What shall I say?
(12:22):
It was the end of my experienceand is the end of my story?
I heard it and knew no more. Heard it as I sat petrified in
an unknown cemetery, in the hollow, amidst the crumbling stones and the falling
tombs, the rank vegetation that myasthma vapors, heard it well up from
the innermost steps of that damnable openseppal curls. I watched amorphous necrophagous shadows
(12:45):
dance beneath an incursed waiting moon.And this is what it said, you
fool Warren is dead end of thestatement of Randolph Carter
The statement of Randolph Carter by H. P. Lovecraft. Again, I
say, I do not know whathas become of Harley worn, though I
think almost hope that he is inpeaceful oblivion, if there be anywhere so
blessed a thing. It is truethat I have for five years been his
closest friend and a partial sharer ofhis terrible researches into the unknown. I
(00:22):
will not deny, though my memoryis uncertain and indistinct, that this witness
of years may have seen us together, as he says, on the Gainesville
Pike, walking toward Big Cypress Swampat half past eleven, on that awful
night, that we bore electric lanterns, spades in a curious coil of wire
with attached instruments. I will evenaffirm for these things all played a part
(00:43):
in the single hideous scene which remainsburied in my shaken recollection. But of
what fouled, and of the reasonI was found alone and days on the
edge of the swamp the next morning, I must insist that I know nothing
save what I was told over andover again. You say to me that
there is nothing in the swamp ornearer at which I could form the setting
of that awful episode. I repliedthat I knew nothing beyond what I saw,
(01:08):
vision or nightmare. It may havebeen vision or nightmare, I fervidently
hope it was. Yet it isall that my mind retains of what took
place in those shocking hours after weleft the sight of men, and why
Harley Warn did not return, Heor his shade, or some nameless thing
I cannot describe alone can tell.As I have said before, the weird
(01:30):
studies of Harley Worn were well knownto me, and to some extent shared
by me. Of his vast collectionof strange, rare books on forbidden subjects.
I have read all that are writtenin the languages of which I am
master, but these are few ascompared with those languages I can understand.
Most, I believe, are inArabic, and the fiend inspired book which
brought on the end, The bookwhich he carried in his pocket out of
(01:53):
this world, was written in characterswhose like I never saw elsewhere. Warren
would never tell me just what wasthe book. As to the natures of
our studies, must I say againthat I no longer retain full comprehension.
It seems to me rather merciful thatI do not, for they were terrible
studies which I pursued more through reluctantfascination than through actual inclination. Warren always
(02:15):
dominated me, and sometimes I fearedhim. I remember how I shuddered at
his facial expressions on the night beforethe awful happenings, when he talked so
incessantly of his theory why certain corpsesnever decay, but rest firm and fat
in their tomb for a thousand years. But I do not fear him now,
for I suspect that he has knownhorrors beyond my ken. Now I
(02:38):
fear for him once more. Isay that I have no clear idea of
our object on that night. Certainlyit had much to do with something in
the book which Warren carried with him, that ancient book in undecipherable characters,
which had come to him from Indiaa month before, But I swear I
do not know what it was.We expected to find you're And it says
(03:00):
he saw us at half past elevenon the Gainesville Pike, headed for Big
Cypress Swamp. This is probably true, but I have no distinct memory of
it. The picture seared into mysoul. As once seen only, and
the hour must have been long aftermidnight, for a waning crescent moon was
high in the vapor's heavens. Theplace was an ancient cemetery, so ancient
(03:22):
that I trembled at the manifold signsof immemorial years. It was in a
deep, damp hollow, overgrown withrank grass, moss, and curious creeping
weeds, and filled with a vaguestench which my idle fancy associated absurdedly with
riding stone. On every hand werethe signs of neglect and decrepitude, and
I seemed haunted by the notion thatWarren and I were the first living creatures
(03:45):
to invade a lethal silence of centuries. Over the valley's rim, A waning
crescent moon peered through the noisome vaporsthat seemed to emanate from unheard of catacombs,
and by its feeble wavering beams,I could distinguish a repellent array of
antique slabs, urns, cenotaphs,and mausoleum facades, all crumbling moss,
(04:06):
grown in moisture, stained and partlyconcealed by the gross luxuriance of the unhealthy
vegetation. My first vivid impression ofmy own presence in this terrible necropolis concerns
the act of pausing with Warren beforea certain half a blidated sepulcher, and
of throwing down some burdens which weseemed to have been carrying. I now
(04:28):
observed that I had with me anelectric lantern and two spades, whilst my
companion was supplied with a similar lanternand a portiful telephone outfit. No word
was uttered for the spot, andthe tasks seemed known to us, and
without delay we seized our spades.It commenced to clear away the grass weeds
and drifted earth from the flat archaicmortuary. After uncovering the entire scene,
(04:49):
which consisted of three immense granite slabs, we stepped back some distance to survey
the carnal scene, and Warren appearedto make some mental calculation. Then he
returned to the sepulcher, and,using his spade as a lever, sought
to pry up the slab lying nearestto the stony ruin, which may have
been a monumented instay. He didnot succeed in motion to me to come
(05:12):
to his assistance. Finally, ourcombined strength loosened the stone, which we
raised and tipped to one side.The removal of the slab revealed a black
aperture, from which rushed an affluenceof my asthmal gases, so nauseous that
we started back in horror. Afteran interval, however, we approached the
pit again and found the exhalations lessunbearable. Our lanterns disclosed the top of
(05:38):
a flight of stone steps, drippingwith some detestable ichor of the inner earth,
and bordered by moist walls encrusted withniter. And now, for the
first time, my memory records verbaldiscourse Wren addressing me at length in his
mellow tenor voice, a voice singularlyunperturbed by our awesome surroundings. I'm sorry
(05:59):
to have to ask you to sand'ssurface, he said, but to be
a crime to let anyone with yourfrail nerves go down there. You can't
imagine, even from what you've readand what I've told you, that things
I shall have to see and do. It's fiendish work, Carter, and
I doubt if any man with ironcladsensibilities could ever see it through and come
up alive, and saying, Idon't wish to offend you, and Heaven
(06:20):
knows, I'd be glad enough tohave you with me. But the responsibility
is in a certain sense mine,and I couldn't drag a bundle of nerves
like you down to probable death ormadness. I tell you you can't imagine
what the thing is really like,but I promised to keep you informed over
the telephone of every move you see. I have enough wire here to reach
(06:41):
the center of the earth and back. I can still hear in memory those
coolly spoken words, and I canstill remember my remonstrances. I seem desperately
anxious to accompany my friend into thosesupple, curled depths, yet he proved
inflexibly obdurate. At one time hethreatened to abandon the expedition if I remained
insistent, a threat which proved effective, since he alone held the key to
(07:02):
the thing. All this I canremember, though I no longer know what
manner of thing we sought. Afterhe had obtained my reluctant acquiescence in his
design, Warren picked up the reelof wire and adjusted the instruments at his
nod. I took one of theladder and seated myself upon an aged,
discolored gravestone close by the newly uncoveredaperture. Then he shook my hand,
(07:25):
shouldered the coil of wire, anddisappeared within that indescribable ostuary. For a
minute, I kept the sight ofthe glow of his lantern, and heard
the rustle of the wire as helaid it down after him. But the
glow soon disappeared abruptly, as ifa turn in the stone staircase had been
encountered, and the sound died awayalmost as quickly. I was alone,
(07:45):
yet, bound to the unknown depthsby those magic strands, whose insulated surface
lay green beneath the struggling beams ofthat waning crescent moon. I constantly consulted
my watch by the light of myelectric lantern, and listened with feverish anxiety
at the receiver of the telephone.But for more than a quarter of an
hour heard nothing. Then a faintclicking came from the instrument, and I
(08:07):
called down to my friend with atense voice. Apprehensive as I was,
I was nevertheless unprepared for the wordswhich came up from the uncanny vault in
accents, more alarmed and quivering thanany I had heard before. From Harley
Warren, he who was so calmlyleft me a little while previously, now
called from below in a shaky whisper, more portentous than the loudest shriek.
(08:30):
God, if you could see whatI am seeing. I could not answer,
speechless, I could only wait.Then came the frenzied tones again,
Carter, It's terrible, monstrous,unbelievable. This time my voice did not
unfail me, and I poured intothe transmitter flood of excited questions. Terrified,
I continued to repeat, Warren,what is it? What is it?
Once more came the voice of myfriend, still hoarse with fear and
(08:54):
now apparently tinged with despair. Ican't tell you, Carter, it's too
utterly beyond thought. I dare nottell you. No man could know it
and live. Great God, Inever dreamed of this stillness again, save
for my now incoherent torrent of shudderinginquiry than the voice of Warren, and
a pitch of wilder consternation. Carter, for the love of God, put
back the slab and get out ofthis. If you can quick leave everything
(09:16):
else and make for the outside,it's your only chance. Do as I
say, and don't ask me toexplain. I heard, it was able
only to repeat my frantic questions.Around me were the tombs, and the
darkness, and the shadows below mesome peril beyond the radius of the human
imagination. But my friend was ingreater danger than I, and through my
fear I felt a vague resentment thathe should deem me capable of deserting him
(09:39):
under such circumstances. More clicking,and after a pause of piteous cry from
Warren, beat it, for God'ssakes, put back the slab and beat
it. Carter. Something in theboyish slang of my evidently stricken companion unleashed
my faculties. I formed and shouteda resolution, warn brace yourself on coming
down. But at this offer,the tone of my auditor changed to a
(10:03):
scream of utter despair. Don't youcan't understand it's too late in my own
fault. Put back the slab andrun. There's nothing else, you horny,
when it can do now? Thetone changed again, this time acquiring
a softer quality as of hopeless resignation, Yet it remained tense through anxiety for
me, quick before it's too late. I tried not to heed him.
(10:26):
Tried to break through the prowsis whichheld me and to fulfill my vow to
rush down to his aid. Buthis next whisper found me and still held
inert in the chain of stark horror. Carter, hurry, it's no use.
You must go better one than two. The slab a pause, more
clicking than the faint voice of Warrennearly over. Now, don't make it
(10:50):
harder, Cover up those damn stepsand run for your life. You're losing
time so long, Carter won't seeyou again. Here. Warren's whispers swelled
into a cry, a cry thatgradually rose to a shriek. With all
the horrors of the ages, cursed, these allish things, legions, my
God, beat it, beat it, beat it. After that was silence.
(11:13):
I know not how many interminable eonsI sat, stupefied, whispering,
muttering, calling, screaming into thattelephone over and over again. Through those
eons, I whispered and muttered,called, shouted and screamed Warren, Warren,
answer me, are you there?And then there came to me the
crowning horror of all the unbelievable,unthinkable, almost unmentionable thing I have said
(11:35):
that EANs seemed to elapse after Warrenshrieked forth his last despairing warning, and
that only my own cries now brokethe hideous silence. But after a while
there was a further clicking in thereceiver, and I strained my ears to
listen again. I called down,warn, are you there? And an
answer heard the thing which had broughtthis cloud over my mind. I do
(11:58):
not try, gentlemen, to accountfor that thing, that voice, nor
can I venture to describe it indetail, since the first words took away
my consciousness and created a mental blankwhich reaches to the time of my awakening
in the hospital. Shall I saythat the voice was deep, hollow,
gelatinous, remote, unearthly, inhuman, disembodied. What shall I say?
(12:22):
It was the end of my experienceand is the end of my story?
I heard it and knew no more. Heard it as I sat petrified in
an unknown cemetery, in the hollow, amidst the crumbling stones and the falling
tombs, the rank vegetation that myasthma vapors, heard it well up from
the innermost steps of that damnable openseppal curls. I watched amorphous necrophagous shadows
(12:45):
dance beneath an incursed waiting moon.And this is what it said, you
fool Warren is dead end of thestatement of Randolph Carter
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