Sunday, August 31, 2025

Correcting the “Facts” about A. Merritt’s Autobiographical Writings

A. Merritt (1877-1943)
For anyone interested in the life and works of A. Merritt, the book A. Merritt: Reflections in the Moon Pool (1985), edited by Sam Moskowitz, is an extremely frustrating resource.* It is a hodge-podge of stray writings by Merritt (poems, stories, interviews, fragments) or about Merritt (poems in praise of Merritt, and fanzine articles on him), with interspersed and often confusing (if not contradictory) commentary by Moskowitz, all as an addenda to Moskowitz’s knuckle-dragging essay “The Life, Works and Times of A. Merritt,” which makes up roughly 160 pages of the nearly 400 page volume. Moskowitz also notes that he has added explanatory notes and comments, when he felt them necessary, but in some instances throughout the volume Moskowitz’s alterations are not clearly designated.

The biggest problem is one common to most of Moskowitz’s publications. The book is based on what materials Moskowitz could access at the time. Whatever statements he found by his subject he took at face value, often without any corroboration or critical distance. To such information Moskowitz would supply dates, and thereby he would construct a life-story. But as presented it is often simply wrong. One error, such as an incorrect birth year, and the whole structure fails.

Much of what is known, biographically, about the writer A. Merritt, comes from a small number of autobiographical statements and an interview. Some of what Merritt said about himself is patently false, and some of it is puffery, and some of it is misleading. Here I attempt to correct the record, based on genealogical and other historical evidence.

I use as the main blueprint Merritt’s 1943 publicity statement, as published in the 11 August 1943 issue of the fanzine Fantasy Fiction Field. A short introduction by Walter Dunkelberger (signed “W.D.”) noted that “this article was sent to me June 16, 1943 by Abe’s agents Brandt and Brandt who said that it had been compiled by A. Merritt himself.” Merritt himself died in Florida on 21 August 1943.

Titled “The Autobiography of Abraham Merritt” the essay comprises some 41 paragraphs, though some paragraphs are merely a single sentence in length. I have numbered the paragraphs to distinguish them from my own comments, given directly below the paragraph being commented upon.

The essay is reprinted, and confusingly augmented, in Moskowtiz’s A. Merritt: Reflections in the Moon Pool. Where it is “edited by Walter Wentz.” A brief introductory note (it is unclear whether it is by Moskowitz or Wentz) states: “I am interspersing throughout this article portions of a fragmentary, informal autobiography, three pages of which were found in Merritt’s papers by his widow. To the best of my knowledge, this has never been published anywhere before.” The original 1943 text was about 2250 words; the 1985 text contains an additional 2000 words found in around nine additional passages. I have used parts of these additional passages in some of my notes, and cited the appropriate page number from Moskowitz’s volume. .

For several years I have worked, off and on, on various essays on Merritt and those associated with him (e.g., Hannes Bok, Paul Dennis O’Connor, etc.). This is the first to be published, though it has had to be condensed for reasons of length. My thanks to Kevin Cook for reading and commenting on a draft of this essay.

The Autobiography of Abraham Merritt 1943

¶1 Abraham Merritt was born January 20, 1884 at Beverly, N.J. Beverly was then a good old-fashioned wholly American village, on the Delaware River about 25 miles north of Philadelphia. The population was about a thousand who maintained themselves by fishing in the river, farming in the rich country round about, and commerce as then exemplified by two side-wheeler riverboats that picked up the truck twice a day and by what was known locally as The Ropewalk. Beverly runs of shad were famous—and the hauls, sold in Philadelphia, when good meant three or four months’ pros­perity for the whole village.

Merritt first gave out “1884” as his birth year in an “Interview of A. Merritt” by Julius Schwartz in Science Fiction Digest, January 1933 (reprinted in the 1985 Moskowitz volume). Merritt’s father had died in 1926, and his mother in 1929, so by the 1930s his parents were not alive to contradict any misstatement about his birth year. On his 1919 passport application (dated April 10th), he gave his birth year as 1879. In the 1900 U.S. Census, Merritt is listed as born in January 1878. The New Jersey Birth Records database for 1870-1980 lists the birth of a unnamed son to William H. Merritt and Ida Merritt in Beverly in January 1877. Both the 1900 and 1910 U.S. Censuses asked mothers two questions: how many children did you have, and how many are living. In both Censuses, Ida Merritt said, one child born, one child living. So 1877 is clearly the correct year of A. Merritt’s birth.

Oddly, though, on his September 1918 Draft Registration Merritt gave his birth year as 1876, making him appear a year older than he was—42 instead of 41, both of which seem too old to be called for military service.

The question also arises about whether or not Merritt had a middle name. No source in Merritt’s lifetime gives him one, from his birth record to his death record. An odd addition to Merritt’s autobiography in Moskowitz’s 1985 volume quotes Merritt as writing that he was: “Christened Abraham Grace Merritt, but dropped the Grace early in life because of damages incurred by fighting companions who kidded about it” (330).  (Grace was the maiden name of his grandfather Abraham’s wife.) After this statement was published, various reference books rechristened Merritt as “Abraham Grace Merritt.” Yet it was clearly a form of his name that he never used, and there is no legal basis for it.

¶2 Mr. Merritt’s grandfather had been a Quaker, but when his wife, Emily Grace of Maryland, refused to become a Quaker either “by conviction or adoption,” he was dropped from the Burlington, N.J., Friends Meeting House rolls. He was an architect and builder and designed and erected most of the new churches and statelier edifices of Beverly as the village grew in size and prosperity. He had a careless habit of for­getting bills, however, so that when he died his estate con­sisted mostly of uncollectable accounts, and the Merritt hacienda ultimately became a public park.

¶3 The historic Burlington Friends Meeting House, some twenty miles north of Beverly, has a lot of Merritts in it, the oldest of their tombstones dating back to 1621. There are many Abrahams among them, also Jobs, Hezekiahs, Nehe­miahs, Joshuas, and other fine old Biblical names. Mr. Merritt, the sub­ject of this sketch, was christened Abraham after this grand­father and has always been thankful that the other names, for example Job, were by-passed by the naming committee.

A. Merritt’s grandfather Abraham Merritt (1824-1890), like Merritt’s father a builder and carpenter, was the son of Abraham Merritt, Jr. (1792-1842), who was in turn the son of Abraham Merritt (1749-1822)

¶4 In Mr. Merritt’s family tree there hang quite a number of obits of quite distinguished Americans, but he is really proud only of four. One is General Wesley Merritt, whose father and old Abraham’s father were brothers. Fenimore Cooper who roosts there by virtue of Mr. Merritt’s maternal grandmother Hannah Fenimore, a Quakeress also read out of the Meeting House because of her stubborn husband, and Colonel Grace who licked Tarleton’s men in the historic battle of Cowpens. And a pre-Revolutionary character who was a highwayman pursuing his business along the Boston Post Road; a most interesting scoundrel whose headquarters were at Mamaroneck and whose assassins, instead of being hanged for the crime, were presented with medals by a grateful countryside.

Major General Wesley A. Merritt (1836-1910) was the son of John Willis Merritt (1806-1878). If John Willis Merritt was related in any way to Abraham Merritt, Jr., it was not closely. There were certainly not brothers.

Merritt was indeed related, but distantly, to the famous writer James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851) by his maternal grandmother, Hannah Ann Fenimore (married name Buck) (1839-1914). She was one of five children of Alexander Washington Fenimore (1800-1864), who was a son of Joshua Fenimore (1777-1863), who was a son of Pearson Fenimore (1757-1812), who was a son of Joshua Fenimore (1722-1771), whose brother was Joseph Fenimore Jr. (1712-1756), who was the grandfather of James Fenimore Cooper by his daughter Elizabeth Fenimore Cooper (1752-1817) via her marriage to William Cooper (1754-1809). In an addition to his autobiography as published in 1985, Merritt called Cooper his “great-great grand uncle” but Cooper was never an uncle to Merritt, and only a much more distant relation.

The Battle of Cowpens was fought near Cowpens, South Carolina, on the 17th of January 1781. Colonel Grace was apparently a minor participant.

The identity of the pre-Revolutionary War highwayman has not been determined.

¶5 When Mr. Merritt was about ten years old, his parents moved to Philadelphia, taking him with them. His father’s name was William Henry Merritt, and he was also an architect and a builder. His mother’s name was Ida Priscilla Buck, the daughter of Hannah Fenimore Buck, whose husband had been Philip Buck, the son of Old Cap’n Buck of Cape May, N.J., one of the first skippers of the Yankee Clippers plying the China and Far East trade. Philip died of wounds received during the Civil War. He was on the Union side, as were a number of the Merritts, and Fenimores, Coopers and Stevensons—also grouped in the family tree and most of them what were known as Fighting Quakers.

Elsewhere, in his autobiographical notes, Merritt says “moved to Philadelphia when eight” (332). But if the Merritts moved to Philadelphia when Abraham was about ten, that would have been in about 1886-87. The family is still listed in Beverly, New Jersey, in the New Jersey State Census of 1885. Merritt’s father, William Henry Merritt (1849-1926), was, according to multiple Censuses, a house carpenter. To call him “an architect and builder” seems aggrandizing. Merritt’s mother was Ida Priscilla Buck (1856-1929), whose parents were Philip P. Buck (1830-1866) and Hannah Ann Fenimore (1839-1914), who were married in Burlington, New Jersey, on 9 March 1853. Ida’s younger sister, Phoebe Shropshire (1866-1946) lived with Merritt’s parents in the early decades of the twentieth century after her widowhood.

¶6 On the other hand, most of the Graces were killed, wounded or survived fighting on the Confederate side—which did not make for family peace in the Beverly households.

¶7 When he was thirteen, Mr. Merritt was graduated into the Philadelphia High School with high honors. After studying there for a year, he decided that his future lay in the law and that completing the four years of high school would be a waste of time. He began “to read,” as it was then called, in the office of Andrew J. Maloney, one of the outstanding estate lawyers in Philadelphia, also attending lectures at the University of Pennsylvania.

The only Philadelphia Central High School yearbook that I have been able to consult is for 1893. It includes Merritt as a Freshman, aged 16. He should have graduated in the class of 1896.

Andrew Jackson Maloney (1846-1921) was a Philadelphia lawyer.

Merritt’s activities between 1893 and the early 1900s are not well-documented. In most of Merritt’s Whos’s Who entries, he gives his educational history as “Philadelphia High School” and nothing else. In the “Interview of A. Merritt” by Julius Schwartz, published in January 1933, it is claimed that “he went through Philadelphia High School and matriculated at the University of Pennsylvania Law School, Just then the family went broke” (356). But in the entry for Who’s Who in Literature in the mid-1930s, he lists both “Philadelphia H.S., University of Pennsylvania.” In Jack Champman Miske’s collaborative article with Merritt, “A. Merritt—His Life and Times,” in the October and December 1939 issues of Scienti-Snaps (reprinted in the 1985 Moskowitz volume), it states: “Merritt was matriculated from the University of Pennsylvania law school after his graduation from Philadelphia High. With an amazing display of timing, his family went broke almost immediately thereafter, He left college and entered the newspaper game” (344). Perhaps Merritt attended some lectures at the university informally. In any case, his time associated with the university was apparently at best very brief.

¶8 The first year of this, he read Blackstone through twice from cover to cover, Simon Greenleaf’s Trea­tise on the Law of Evidence, and a few other legal classics. Also, at the advice of Mr. Maloney, who considered the Bible as useful in law as Blackstone, he took up the Book—no stranger since it had been enforced upon him both in Beverly and Philadelphia, and he can even now quote whole chapters by memory. To the Bible and Blackstone he largely owes, he thinks, whatever proficiency in English and Latin he may possess.

¶9 About this time, he met two great men who influenced potently his thinking. One was the famous Dr. S. Weir Mitchell, at that time carrying on his classic experiments in the medical properties of rattlesnake venom, the author of The Red City, Hugh Wynn and other books. Dr. Mitchell, for some reason, took a fancy to Merritt, and turned his mind toward folk-lore and its modern survivals, and other phenomena then wholly speculative and unorthodox, but many of which have since become scientific fact. And also toward some little explored paths of literature.

Silas Weir Mitchell (1829-1914) was a Philadelphia physician, novelist and poet. His historical novels were popular. Of the two novels Merritt cites, Hugh Wynn (1897) might have been contemporaneous with Merritt’s acquaintance with the author; The Red City (1909) evidently came out later. He was physician to author and feminist Charlotte Perkins Gilman (1860-1935), and prescribed for her the “rest cure” which causes insanity in the patient in Gilman’s most famous short story, “The Yellow Wallpaper” (1892).

¶10 The other was Dr. Charles Eucharist de Medicis Sajous, whose studies and theories about the ductless glands and their effects upon personality paved the way to most of the modern discoveries about them—but were then considered also by the conservative wing of the medical party as somewhat too unorthodox. He turned Merritt’s mind toward another side of science and literature. Both men gave it a permanent bent.

Charles Eucharist de Medicis Sajous (1852-1929) was an endocrinologist who lived in Philadelphia.

¶11 Merritt had the faculty of rapid reading, an unusually reten­tive memory, an omnivorous curiosity about everything. So the next year and a half represented at least a four-year college course, but, of course, a highly specialized one. Later, he was to repay some of his debt to Dr. S. Weir Mitchell by certain personal observations of witchcraft practices, survivals of blood sacrifices, and so on, in the Pennsylvania Dutch region.

¶12 At this time when he was nearly 19, but looking several years older, he decided that probably his proper field was the newspaper business. One of his very good friends was a star political reporter. It seemed a good idea to serve a sort of apprenticeship with this genius before applying for a job on a newspaper. Merritt thought that maybe if he learned enough in advance he could get on the staff of The Sun in New York—an ambitious project born of ignorance, of course.

¶13 But in serving this apprenticeship, he unfortunately was a witness of a singularly unhappy political incident in which he had no part beyond that of an innocent bystander. Neverthe­less, he qualified as an essential witness. The political opposi­tion was anxious to force him into this, while the side the political expert was on was just as anxious that he shouldn’t be an essential witness.

Merritt claimed to have entered the employ of The Philadelphia Inquirer in 1902 as a reporter. According to the 1900 U.S. Census, he was already a reporter as of the enumeration date (June 1st), but with which newspaper is unknown.

¶14 The consequence was a speedy trip to Mexico and other points south where writs of extradition did not run.

In the additions to his autobiographical remarks published in 1985, Merritt prefaces further comments with the phrase “when twenty” (336)—presumably meaning when he was twenty, which relates to his comment in ¶12 above about being “nearly 19.” Yet when Merritt was actually twenty would have been in early 1897, or was he counting from the later projected birthdate?

Merrit’s story of being sent away to Mexico has many earmarks of a tall tale. First, it was not told publicly before the 1930s, after Merritt’s parents had both died. Second, there are no records to support the account, and third, the information Merritt provided on his later passport application also does not support the account. From this and other passenger lists it is documented that Merritt’s travelling outside the United States consisted of returning from Jamaica in December 1909, and also (with his wife) in December 1910. In December 1911 he returned from Santa Maria, Columbia. His April 1919 passport application, complete while intending to go to Cuba for magazine business, corroborates the destinations if not the dates. Merritt’s handwritten notes in the application list his residences outside the United States as The West Indies, from October 1912 tho November 1912 (the final numeral “2” is overwritten and could read as a “0” or as a “2”).; and as the United States of Columbia from October 1913 to November 1913. If Merritt wrote these from memory, that could explain the discrepancy with the passenger lists. I do not account here for Merritt’s post-1919 travels.

¶15 It was here that he first conceived a strong interest in matters archaeological, although he admits that he spent most of his time studying the habits and customs of the natives with special emphasis on fiestas and bibiendo, or drinking, as they call it in the United States.

¶16 Once, he likes to relate, he won $600 on a Panama lottery which he had bought from an old Indian woman in Miraflores, spent a couple of hundred of it, then, filled with gratitude, sought for the old woman who had sold him the ticket and presented her with most of the balance. This so overcame the seller, who was quite an important person in her tribe, that a few days later, Merritt says, he found himself a member of it by full blood rites.

¶17 He was down in that country for more than a year, a good part of the time in Tehuantepec and Chiapas. He went treasure hunting over in Yucatan with a rather reckless scout for one of the big Eastern University Museums, was one of the first white men to enter the ancient Mayan city of Tuluum since Catherwood nearly a hundred years before. Here he almost lost his life by falling into an ambush of hostile Indians who were on the warpath.

Frederick Catherwood (1799-1854) was an English artist and explorer. With John Lloyd Stephens he explored the Mayan ruins in the late 1830s and 1840s. They reached Tulum in March 1841. Merritt, in claiming it was “nearly a hundred years ago,” seems to suggest that he was counting the years from the time he was writing his autobiographical notes.

¶18 He turned up later in Chichen Itza and fished for awhile in the cenote, or “sacred well,” from which was later taken golden objects to the bullion value of $5,000,000.

¶19 From there he went to Costa Rica where he spent some time wooing the senoritas up at the San Juan de Potosi. While there the cloud was lifted from him and he was recalled to Philadelphia. He didn’t want to leave, but if he stayed he wouldn’t get any more money, so he had to come back.

¶20 Shortly thereafter he got a job as reporter on the old Philadelphia Inquirer in the days of the Elversons.

Just when Merritt started work at the Inquirer is uncertain. His entry in Who’s Who in America for 1936-1937 states: “Began as reporter Phila. Inquirer, 1902, night city editor.” A similar entry in Who’s Who in Literature in the mid-1930s notes: “City Ed. Philadelphia Inquirer ’08.” In the 1900 U.S. Census, Merritt is listed as a reporter, still living with his parents.

¶21 Merritt’s talent was for what is called “feature writing.” He rose rapidly on the Inquirer, covering murders, suicides, hangings, mysteries, romances and political stories, and one personally conducted lynching party in Delaware that still keeps him awake some nights.

The bulk of Merritt’s contributions to the Inquirer are apparently not bylined. A few parodic poems signed “Abraham Merritt” appeared in July and September 1905.

¶22 In six years he had marched up to the night city editorship on the Inquirer, becoming on the way special Philadelphia correspondent for Morrill Goddard, the great feature editor who left Joseph Pulitzer to take over The American Weekly for William Randolph Hearst. This was then called simply “the Sunday Supplement” of the Hearst Sunday newspapers. Later it was forged into The American Weekly by Mr. Hearst and Mr. Goddard. The magazine has always been one of his publica­tions closest to Mr. Hearst’s heart.

¶23 Goddard, in 1912, approving of Merritt’s work for him, offered “to take a chance on him for a year, if Merritt felt like taking the same chance on him.” Merritt took the chance and became Goddard’s assistant.

Merritt’s beginning at The American Weekly also has an uncertain date. In his entry in Who’s Who in Literature in the mid-1930s, he gives his position as “Asst. Ed. American Weekly ’10.” In the 1910 U.S. Census, Merritt is found living with his wife in Brooklyn (540 8th Street), his employment given as “newspaper clerk.”

¶24 In 1937 Goddard died suddenly, and Merritt moved into his place as editor of The American Weekly, a post he has held ever since.

Morrill Goddard (1866-1937) died of heart disease, after an illness of only two days, on 1 July 1937. In a memoir of Goddard in the Dartmouth Alumni Magazine for October 1937, it is noted that “Goddard recently wrote that he [Merritt] was the only man he’d ever found who ‘saw eye to eye with me in the magazine feature field,’ adding that sometimes when he picked up ‘an issue that Merritt had gotten out I have had to look it over twice to be sure it wasn’t my own’.”

¶25 Since that time The American Weekly has grown from a circulation of around 5,000,000 to approximately 8,000,000. It is carried now not only by the Hearst Sunday newspapers, but eight influential non-Hearst papers, perhaps the most important being the Cleveland Plain Dealer.

¶26 Before Merritt took the post of full editor, he had written seven novels, several short stories and a number of papers upon ethnological and archaeological subjects. Most of which were either privately printed or are held in manuscript form for those interested.

Merritt actually wrote eight novels previous to taking the post of full editor. No papers on ethnological or archaeological subjects are know to have been published. His friend and colleague at the American Weekly John U. Sturdevant (1913-1984) noted: “They no longer exist, if indeed they ever did. These were a collection of research papers, bulletins, studies and so forth, the work of scholars, which Merritt probably ordered or purchased as background for various articles in The American Weekly. I suspect that after they were used he simply kept them, hoping some day to develop them into longer pieces for himself” (quoted, p. 339). Sturdevant became heir to the Merritt literary estate after Merritt’s second wife died in 1977.

¶27 His books are Moon Pool, The Ship of Ishtar, Seven Footprints to Satan, The Metal Monster, The Face in the Abyss, Burn, Witch, Burn, and Creep Shadow. A novelette, “The Woman of the Wood,” has been reprinted many times here and abroad. Two of the books have been made into motion pictures. Burn, Witch, Burn! was printed in America, in England, Holland, Spain, France and Russia.

The list of Merritt’s book omits one: Dwellers in the Mirage.

Seven Footprints to Satan was filmed as a silent picture in 1929. In an interview with Julius Schwartz in Science Fiction Digest, January 1933, Merritt noted: “I sat through the picture and wept. The only similarity between the book and the picture was the title. The picture likewise killed the book sale of Seven Footprints, for people who saw the picture felt no impulse thereafter to read the book.” Burn, With, Burn was filmed more successfully in 1936 as The Devil Doll, directed by Tod Browning and starring Lionel Barrymore.

Burn, Witch, Burn was published in England by Methuen in 1934. The only known translation prior to this article appearing in 1943 is one into Spanish, as Arde, bruja, arde! (Barcelona: Molino, 1935), translated by Alfonso Nadal. In the “Interview of A. Merritt” by Julius Schwartz, published in January 1933, it is claimed that Merritt’s novel The Metal Monster (or the version retitled The Metal Emperor) had been printed in Russia under the title The Lighting Witch, and that The Ship of Ishtar had also been pirated in Russian, but neither such publication has been traced.

¶28 In all his stories Merritt weaves much of what he has seen, heard and read of strange rites, of superstitions, of science, of religion. They are fantastic, but they are accurate and they are very unusual.

¶29 Last fall, Merritt wrote a book upon the philo­sophy and mechanism of feature making, as he sees it. It was not for sale, but was printed privately by The American Weekly and sent out as a Christmas present to a great number of prominent gentlemen in the scientific, adver­tising and business worlds. The book was called The Story Behind the Story, and showed, often in lively fashion, how the formulas worked out in actual practice.

The Story Behind the Story (New York: Published Privately, 1942), as by Abraham Merritt, was published on 18 December 1942. It contains a one-page foreword signed M.B., and eighteen chapters, comprising some 188 pages. Merritt’s writing of the chapters was clearly not confined to “last fall.” A short notice in the January 1943 (volume 36 no. 1, p. 54) issue of Advertising & Selling, comments: “For several years, Abraham Merritt, editor of American Weekly, has written monthly letters to business men and advertising executives explaining why certain articles are chosen for the Weekly, describing what is involved in preparing them for publication. Too good to file and forget, last month they were condensed and revised, published in an 18-chapter volume, ‘The Story Behind the Story,’ sent to executives of leading advertiser’s advertising agencies.” If Merritt wrote these articles over an eighteen-month period, the origin would go back to late 1940 or early 1941.

¶30 It was so well received that the edition of 10,000 was soon almost exhausted. It was very popular with the schools of journalism at various universities and colleges, which are rapidly absorbing the few copies that are left.

¶31 Merritt has many interests. Outside of his editorship he is most interested in horticulture, especially sub-tropical. This is no fad, no passing hobby. He is definitely and seriously interested and is an expert.

Merritt was profiled in an interesting article “Horror Tale Writer Tends Long Island Poison Garden” in the 5 September 1935 issue of the New York World-Telegram. Here are some of the many interesting points.

“I plant and tend vervain and datura because their history fascinates me. Vervain is an insignificant plant, but it was the first sacred herb of the human race; its origin is hidden in the midst of antiquity.”

“It was while I was experimenting with and musing on the mandrake that I conceived Madame Mandelip, the witch of ‘Burn, Witch, Burn.’ The mandrake is the oldest known poison drug. It was used by the Babylonians 3,000 years ago. This is the first year I’ve had any luck with them. Legend says if you pull a mandrake up by the roots it shrieks and you die. I’ve never heard a mandrake cry, but I’ve always hoped to hear one. Nor have I suffered any ill effects from digging them out—so far as I know.”

Mr. Merritt’s interest in poison plants dates from a youthful expedition to Central America. There he saw the peyote which the Indian priests use to get in communication with their gods and make prophecies. “I was young and reckless enough to try some of the concoction made from the peyote buttons. The influence results in a color reaction. I remember sitting on the grass and watching it change into a variety of colors. Out of that came geometric patterns. I had a consciousness throughout of music that blended with the colors.”

This year Mr. Merritt is raising a rare species of datura alba, from India. The datura contains stramonium, widely used for asthma. . . . Other poison plants in the garden are nightbane, white snake root, deadly nightshade, from which come belladonna, the drug, and atropine, the alkaloid; laburnum, which contains aconite; tansy and parsley, yielding apiol, which produces abortions; bride wort, used by the ancients to make birth easier; primroses, poisonous to the touch, and sometimes from their pollen and fragrance.

“There’s this interesting thing, however. Poisonous plants tend to become less poisonous as they are cultivated. There’s a reason for everything. Some plants are poisonous in order to survive. Care for them, and their poison lessens. Same with humans. A well-fed, well-cared for man is less likely to be a menace to society than one who is starving.”

¶32 He has one experimental farm near Clearwater where he has planted the first olive groves in Florida. On this place he also has some 200 varieties of trees and plants, food bearers, largely from South and Central America, but others from Africa, Asia and Australia.

¶33 Here also he is experimenting with some 50 Feijoa plants from Brazil, which bear a delicious fruit and whose flowers are the only edible flowers known. Here, too, he is growing the Cherimoya, another delicious but little known fruit.

¶34 In Bradenton, Florida, on Tampa Bay, he has another experimental farm of some 75 acres where he is specializing in avocados, mangos and litchi, so popular with the Chinese.

¶35 Merritt is also much interested in the possibilities of some 750 acres he owns near Santo Domingo, about a hundred miles south of Quito in Ecuador. This is the richest land and with J. M. Sheppard, President of the Pan-American Tropical Research Society, who owns about 2,000 adjacent acres, he is planning another experimental farm, largely to handle medi­cinal plants and trees, vanilla beans and quinine. The hacienda is at present pretty much virgin forest and Colorados Indios. Merritt is a Director of the Society.

The Pan-American Tropical Research Society published a journal called Exploration & Scientific Research, which ran from 1938 through 1947, but Merritt does not seem to have contributed to it. The President of the Society was J[ack]. Mortimer Sheppard (1901-1973), who became a world traveller and in the 1950s published a historical novel, Harvest of the Wind (1956) and a autobiographical account of his family’s experiences in northern Africa, Sahara Adventure (1957). If Sheppard had much of an association with Merritt, it is undocumented.

¶36 He is also an expert apiarist, or bee man.

Jack Chapman Miske, in his 1939 article in collaboration with Merritt, notes:  “He also keeps bees. He dislikes violent exercise and always rides if possible, which probably explains why he is rather plump. He is an atheist (345)”

¶37 He has married twice, first to Eleanor May Radcliffe, by whom he has one daughter, Eleanore.

Merritt's daughter in 1940
Merritt married Eleanor May Ratcliffe [not Radcliffe, as Moskowitz also gives it] (born in England in 1879) in Manhattan on 15 August 1904. She died in Queens on 27 October 1933. They adopted a daughter around 1920-21. The girl was one of two daughters of the eccentric poet and publisher Donald Evans (1884-1921), who, like Merritt, came to New York from Philadelphia. Evans had two short-lived marriages, the second to Esther Porter (b. 1898) in January 1918, produced two daughters, Anne, born about March 1919, and a second daughter, name unknown, who was born in 1920. Later that year, Evans secured custody of the two children from his philandering wife, from whom he was separated. Evans died on 21 May 1921; it was commonly believed that he committed suicide. Moskowitz gives a different story: he claims that in 1918, Evans and his baby daughter were given refuge by the Merritts, and Evans, terminally ill with tuberculosis, left the child with the Merritts and died in hospital (pp 42-43). None of this is substantiated elsewhere, so it is difficult to reconcile it with known facts. Other accounts suggest that Evans’s mother, after his death, put the two children up for adoption, and one of them ended up with Merritt and his wife. They raised their daughter as Ida Eleanore Merritt, though she went by Eleanore. She went to Stoneleigh College, and she later worked for McCall’s Magazine and the Woman’s Home Companion as a magazine editor and contributor. She had a brief marriage to Kenneth Edward Budgen of New York on 10 June 1944, but it was quickly annulled. A second marriage to Robert A. Wolf [not Daniel Wolf as Moskowitz gives, 151] on 1 March 1948 ended in divorce. A brief obituary in The Chicago Tribune for 21 September 1963 gives her name as Eleanore Merritt Wolff [sic]. Moskowitz says that Eleanore never knew she had been adopted (152), but he gives no source for this claim.

¶38 After his first wife’s death, he married Eleanor Humphrey Johnson, who shares in most of his tastes, and is an expert in floriculture as he is in horticulture generally.

Merritt's widow in 1949
Merritt married Eleanor Humphrey [not Humphreys, as Moskowitz gives it] Johnson (1894-1977), who ran an antique store in Greenwich Village and who was an occasional writer, in Manhattan on 18 July 1934, about nine months after the death of Merritt’s first wife. (The yet unmarried couple took a sailing trip together to Bermuda in May 1934.) According to Moskowitz, Merritt’s daughter and his second wife did not get along well (125, 151). Around 1950-51, Merritt’s widow married Harry Schoonmaker (1895-1979), who had been Merritt’s “full-time chauffeur and handyman” according to Moskowitz (127).

¶39 His only club is the Lotos.

The Lotos Club in New York City was founded in 1870 and still continues today, making it “one of the oldest literary and arts clubs in the United States” (as it states at its website).

In Who’s Who in America for 1936-37, Merritt listed his club as The Players in New York, founded in 1888 with a membership of theatrical notables. In other sources Merritt lists both clubs.

¶40 Private residence: 87-25 Clover Hill Road, Hollis, L.I., and Indian Rocks Key, Pinellas County, Florida.

¶41 Business address: The American Weekly, 235 East 45th Street, New York.

 

*Gary K. Wolfe wrote a witheringly accurate review of A. Merritt: Reflections in the Moon Pool, with an assessment on Moskowitz’s failings as a scholar, in Science-Fiction Studies, vol. 13 pt. 2 (July 1986): 219-220. Wolfe notes: “Moskowitz’s biographical essay, which ought to be the most valuable part of the book, is plagued by the maddening obtuseness and obsessive trivia-hunting that have unfortunately become his trademarks. . . . he industriously gathers information that no one else has, assembles it without the slightest sense of priorities, and then babbles to us, often on the verge of incoherence, about the magnificence of his achievement and the immortality of his subject. The man is a syntactical terrorist . . . He is relentlessly naïve . . . He is willing to go to absurd lengths to work himself into the narrative . . . pointless details abound.”

 

 

 

 

 

Monday, August 11, 2025

Tolkien Society Award and Oxonmoot 2025

My dragon award from the Tolkien Society, announced here (with other winners) at the end of April,  arrived a few weeks ago. It looks splendid. Thanks to all involved in the selection and administration, and congratulations to all the other winners.

Subsequently I was asked to give a talk at Oxonmoot (September 4th-7th), and I agreed to do so. It will be via Zoom, and my topic is "Humphrey Carpenter on Tolkien: Then and Now (Fifty Years Later)." It has recently become fashionable (among certain people) to bash Carpenter for questionable reasons. I will put a wider perspective on this, having worked extensively with  Carpenter on several things, including the original publication of The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien (1981). My presentation is scheduled for 4 pm UK time on Friday September 5th. 

The program for Oxonmoot doesn't seem to have been published yet, but here is the currently available information

UPDATE 8/20/25: The schedule is now online here.  

 


 

Saturday, March 8, 2025

Tolkien on de Camp's "Swords & Sorcery" Anthology

In July 1964, L. Sprague de Camp sent J.R.R. Tolkien a copy of his anthology, Swords & Sorcery, which had been published in December 1963. It is a collection of eight stories, with an introduction by de Camp, and colored cover art and eight interior black and white illustrations by Virgil Finlay.
 

Tolkien already knew the art of Virgil Finlay because his American publisher, Houghton Mifflin, had in early 1963 solicited a sample illustration by Finlay for a proposed (but unrealised) illustrated edition of The Hobbit. Tolkien commented on Finlay’s sample in a letter from 11 October 1963, noting that  Though it gives prospects of a general treatment rather heavier and more violent and airless than I should like, I thought it was good, and actually I thought Bilbo's rather rotund and babyish (but anxious) face was in keeping with his character up to that point. After the horrors of the ‘illustrations’ to the translations [of The Hobbit] Mr. Finlay is a welcome relief. As long (as seems likely) he will leave humour to the text and pay reasonable attention to what the text says, I expect I shall be quite happy.”

Finlay sample for The Hobbit

Unfortunately, Finlay’s cover and interior illustrations to the anthology are rather undistinguised, and do not showcase Finlay’s talent, perhaps owing to the medium of reproduction in a mass market paperback on cheap paper.

With his copy of the Swords & Sorcery book, Tolkien left some jotted notes, difficult to read (see illustration at bottom). Some bits of these notes are quoted below. His main criticisms of the book he made in a 30 August 1964 letter to de Camp, which has only partially been published. In it, Tolkien noted that he was interested in practically everything save literary criticism, and he said of contemporary fantasy that “I will not pretend that it gave me much pleasure.” In particular about de Camp’s book he noted:  “Though I might say, I suppose, as a purely personal aside, that all the items seem poor in the subsidiary (but to me not unimportant) matters of nomenclature. Best when inventive, least good when literary or archaic. (For instance Thangobrind and Alaric, both singularly inapt for their purpose) . . . Also I do wonder why you chose that particular tale of Dunsany’s. It seems to me to illustrate all his faults. And the ghastly final paragraph!”

In his notes, Tolkien had written: “Found [the anthology] interesting but did not much like the stories in it.” Also: “Most of these things are overheated & exaggerated ([?...] bigger or [?would be] bigger, [?’...’] is [?...] than the purposes warrant) Also obviously over or ill-written.”

Of the eight stories, Tolkien commented upon four specifically, with a later conversational comment about a fifth as reported by de Camp. Tolkien did not comment on deCamp’s introduction, nor on the stories by Kuttner, Leiber and Lovecraft.  His comments on the four are here considered sequentially, in the order they appear in the book.

“The Valor of Cappen Varra” by Poul Anderson.  “Cappen Varra. Nomenclature v. bad. Let us have genuine Scandinavian/Norse ‘barbarians’ or something invented.”

“Distressing Tale of Thangobrind the Jeweller” by Lord Dunsany. “Dunsany at his worst. Trying so hard for the shudder. But not for a moment making the tale ‘credible’ enough to make a background for a strong [?]. And the ending lamentable — in that [?setting]. In a world in which a Thangobrind could even begin to be (let alone Hlo-hlo or [?all the rest]) early 19th century Riviera [?milleau] is surely utterly impossible — or vice versa. And what is meant by selling his daughter’s soul.” And “Dunsany’s is one of his worst. That final ghastly paragraph!”

De Camp suggested that: “I suppose Tolkien meant by ‘ghastly’ Dunsany’s leaving his ‘secondary world’ to drag in a dig at a type of contemporary person he disliked.”  

In the first paragraph of the story, Dunsany wrote: “Now there was a Merchant Prince who had come to Thangobrind and had offered his daughter’s soul for the diamond that is larger than the human head and was to be found on the lap of the spider-idol, Hlo-Hlo, in his temple of Moung-ga-ling; for he had heard that Thangobrind was a thief to be trusted.”  The final paragraph of the short tale reads:

And the only daughter of the Merchant Prince felt so little gratitude for this great deliverance that she took to respectability of a militant kind, and became aggressively dull, and called her home the English Riviera, and had platitudes worked in worsted upon her tea-cosy, and in the end never died, but passed away at her residence.

“Hellsgarde” by C. L. Moore. “Jirel of Joiry. Does create an atmosphere and [?the] sinister ‘corrupt’ household of Alaric was eerie and credible. But I never [sic] find phantasmal struggles such as that of Jirel with ‘Undead’ Andred quite unconvincing — especially when the victims escape!” And: “Jirel of Joiry [pp.] 140 – 146 is good but needs a deft story (and explanation) to make it valid.”

“The Testament of Athammaus” by Clark Ashton Smith. “The Athammaus monster wholly unbelievable [?…] disgusting [?... ... …]. There are lots of ways of being [?...] nastily, without all this tooraloo of nonsense.”

De Camp met Tolkien in Oxford in February 1967, and de Camp later reported that Tolkien had said he “rather liked” the Conan stories of Robert E. Howard.  It is an odd comment, considering that Tolkien had earlier claimed that he did not much like the stories in the book, and there is no evidence to support the idea that he had read any other Conan story.  De Camp elaborated this view in a letter to John D. Rateliff on 14 January 1983:  “During our conversation, I said something casual to Tolkien about my involvement with Howard’s Conan stories, and he said he ‘rather liked them.’ That was all; we went on to other subjects. I know he had read Swords & Sorcery because I had sent him a copy. I don’t know if he had read any other Conan besides “Shadows in the Moonlight,” but I rather doubt it.”

 



Saturday, January 4, 2025

Borges on Tolkien

So far as I know, Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986), Argentinian author of such magisterial fantasy stories as "The Aleph" and "Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius," mentioned Tolkien only twice--and not favorably. I wondered why, for it would have seemed, knowing Borges's other interests (from Anglo-Saxon to Lewis Carroll--Borges was especially well-read in British literature), that he might have been a fan. Borges, who went completely blind around 1954, was "discovered" in translation by English readers in the 1960s, and for the last two decades of his life, he was just a trans-continental flight away from Buenos Aires to being feted in Europe, America, and elsewhere. The two quotes about Tolkien come from such celebrations.

The first was at the University of Michigan. On Tuesday, the 2nd of March 1976, he spoke first to a relatively small gathering of students and faculty, and later in the afternoon to a capacity crowd in the Modern Languages Building, where various questions were put to him, some by Professor Donald Yates of the Department of Romance Languages, who wrote up the event as "A Colloquy with Jorge Luis Borges" for The Gyspy Scholar (1976), published by Michigan State University.  The colloquy is most easily found in Jorge Luis Borges: Conversations (1998), edited by Richard Burgin. The relevant Tolkien section is as follows.

Question: I’d like him to comment on how that relates to the creative aspects of the reader, that he brings to his reading of Borges. I feel sometimes as though…

Borges: Well, how is the case of Borges different from the case of any other writer? When you are reading a book, if you don’t find your way inside it, then everything is useless. The problem with The Lord of the Rings is you’re left outside the book, no? That has happened to most of us. In that case, that book is not meant for us
. . . 

Yates: In Chicago, last night and here before and every place else, people come to Borges eager to find out his opinion on Tolkien.

Borges: Well I could never. . . I wish somebody would explain it to me or somehow convey what the book’s good for. Those people say if I like Lewis Carroll, I should like Tolkien. I am very fond of Lewis Carroll, but I am disconcerted by Tolkien.

Yates: Last night you mentioned the difference between Tolkien and Lewis Carroll. You said Lewis Carroll is authentic fantasy and Tolkien is just going on and on and on.

Borges: Maybe I’m being unjust to Tolkien but, yes, I think of him as rambling on and on.

The second instance was in a filmed program, the popular "Firing Line" hosted by William F. Buckley, Jr. It was taped in Buenos Aires on 1 February 1977, and originally broadcast on PBS in the U.S. on 18 February 1977.  The full segment, "Borges: South America's Titan," can be viewed here (the Tolkien comments are at timestamp 32.30 and following). Here is a transcription of the segment, slightly edited.

Buckley: Would you go so far as to say that a writer who seeks fame ought not to read books that children can enjoyably read?

Borges: No, no.

Buckley: What about Tolkien, for instance?

Borges: Well, Tolkien--I have found him--I have only found in him utter boredom. I have never got inside his books.

Buckley: When who got inside his books?

Borges: I have never got inside his books. I have always been an outsider. I attempted that "Brotherhood--" Is it "The Brotherhood of the Rings?"

Buckley: Yes. "The Lordship of the Rings," isn't it?

Borges: "The Lordship of the Ring." I don't know. But in any case no rings were awarded me, no. I tried to enjoy him: I did my best. I was in Scotland at the time, doing American theater. Read him, laughed very loudly, but at the same time I felt I got nothing out of the reading. To compare him to Lewis Carroll is blasphemy. I'm so fond of Lewis Carroll.

Here at least Borges admits that he "attempted" The Lord of the Rings. We don't know how far he got. He says he was in Scotland at the time, and it seems Borges was there three times, in the spring of 1963, the late summer of 1964, and the spring of 1971 (after this time in Scotland, Borges went to Oxford where he was awarded an honorary doctorate on 29th April--one wonders if Tolkien attended, or if Tolkien ever read Borges). It could have been on any of these three visits to Scotland that Borges attempted the read Tolkien, for none seem to have any specific association with American theater. And who read Tolkien to him?  His sister accompanied him on the first trip; a friend María Esther Vasquez on the second. But it remains unknown who might have read Tolkien to him. And more significantly, how much of The Fellowship of the Ring was read to him? I would think not much. Certainly the Prologue and the first few chapters might lead Borges to say he laughed very loudly, but soon after that the tone of the book changes, becoming darker, so it seems that Borges read very little of the book in order to arrive at its humor and his own boredom, such that he (and William F. Buckley, Jr.) could not even recall the book's name correctly. Alas.