Douglas Darden and Hamlet: Passages from Condemned Building

Hostel from Condemned Building

In Douglas Darden's Condemned Building there are a variety of passages scattered throughout the book—snippets, partial lines from some uncited, unsourced piece of literature. Douglas Darden had once commented in a handwritten note in the project file for Oxygen House that "Literature continues to create an agenda for representation which I deem to be pertinently as large as life. I want architecture to have that same agenda, and literature has thus been my inspiration and, effectively, my sponsor"; this is understandable given that he majored in literature and psychology while in undergraduate school at the University of Colorado at Boulder.

So what are these strange passages? Where do they come from? One would expect (as I did) that they have come from Moby-Dick or anything else from Herman Melville (Darden's favorite book and author), or simply a variety of sources; but interestingly enough they all come from William Shakespeare's Hamlet. All the passages have some relevance to the various designs, their themes and program.

One may think of Condemned Building, not as a collection of projects, but as its own work of design and architecture, and that Hamlet served as the inspirational text for composing the book (the pre-text, con-text, sub-text, and archi-text, as Darden would term it).

Thus, here are the various passages, their places in Condemned Building, and their sources in Hamlet:

Page 10:

blow them
to their trials:
the bubbles are out.
—Act 5, Scene 2, lines 193-194

MUSEUM OF IMPOSTERS
Page 19:

they are actions that a man might play
—Act 1, Scene 2, line 84

Page 25:

I'll have grounds
More relative than this:
the play's the thing
Wherein I'll catch
the conscience of the King.
—Act 2, Scene 2, lines 603-605

TEMPLE FORGETFUL
Page 32:

Yea, from the table of my memory
—Act 1, Scene 5, line 155

Page 39:

'For O, for O, the hobby-horse is forgot.'
—Act 3, Scene 2, line 135

CLINIC FOR SLEEP DISORDERS
Page 44:

some much watch, while some must sleep;
So runs the world away.
—Act 3, Scene 2, lines 273-274

Page 54:

and out of frame,
Colleagues with the dream
—Act 1, Scene 2, lines 220-221 (misquoted: "this dream")

Page 58:

makes the night
joint-labourer with the day
—Act 1, Scene 1, line 78 (misquoted: "make the night")

NIGHT SCHOOL
Page 69:

I am too much i' th' sun.
—Act 1, Scene 2, line 67

MELVILLA
Page 83:

That I essentially am not in madness,
But mad in craft.
—Act 3, Scene 4, lines 187-188

HOSTEL
Page 101:

sit by me.
No, good mother,
here's metal more attractive
—Act 3, Scene 2, lines 115-116

A SALOON FOR JESSE JAMES
Page 114:

a custom
More honour'd in the breach, than
the observance
—Act 1, Scene 4, lines 15-16

Page 120:

So oft it chances in particular man,
That for some vicious mole of nature in them
—Act 1, Scene 4, lines 23-24

SEX SHOP
Page 122:

whilst this machine is to him,
—Act 2, Scene 2, line 124

Page 123:

this hot love on the wing.
—Act 2, Scene 2, line 132

Page 124:

As if increase of appetite had grown
—Act 1, Scene 2, line 144

CONFESSIONAL
Page 127:

May on be pardon'd
and retain th' offence?
—Act 3, Scene 3, line 56

Page 130:

And in the porches
of my ears did pour
—Act 1, Scene 5, line 63

OXYGEN HOUSE
Page 143:

That he might not beteem the winds
—Act 1, Scene 2, line 141

Page 147:

Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath
—Act 1, Scene 2, line 79

Page 151:

Why do you go to recover the wind of me?
—Act 3, Scene 2, line 346 (misquoted: "go about to recover")

Page 154:

Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
Let the birds fly
—Act 3, Scene 4, lines 193-194

APPENDIX
Page 159:

Fall'n on the inventors' heads.
—Act 5, Scene 2, line 385

Further reading:
Darden, Douglas. Condemned Building. Princeton Architectural Press. 1993.

Schneider, Peter. "Douglas Darden's 'Sex Shop': An Immodest Proposal", Journal of Architectural Eduction, Vol. 58, No. 2, November 2004.

Melmoth the Wanderer and The Monk: The Lovers' Tale and Ambrosio and Matilda's Affair

Nun and Monk, by Cornelis van Haarlem (1591)

As already addressed in my previous writing on Maturin's Melmoth the Wanderer, there is a great deal of similarity between what may be called the Lover's Tale in Monçada's story and the affair between Ambrosio and Matilda in Matthew Lewis' The Monk.

Maturin gives a formal nod to Lewis' The Monk fairly early in Melmoth the Wanderer (Vol. I.I) when he references the tale of The Bleeding Nun (The Monk, Vol. II.I), and there are a few other instances in which he is borrowing very lightly from The Monk—such as the ex-Jesuit superior and his entourage of four monks resemble the Saint Clare's Convent's prioress and her entourage of four nuns, and each group abduct one of their votaries for breaking their monastic vows and imprison them in a dungeon under the monastery (Alonzo Monçada in Melmoth, and Anges in The Monk). Another example, though probably inspired by The Monk more than referencing or borrowing is how Melmoth the Traveler may be seen as something like the Wandering Jew, and the Wandering Jew makes a prominent appearance in The Monk (Vol. II.I) But the most notable "borrowing" from The Monk Maturin does could practically be regarded as plagiarism—but, of course, with his own spin.

Let us begin with Lewis' The Monk. In the city of Madrid, at the Monastery of Saint Francis is a very pious and virtuous abbot named Ambrosio (Lewis calls him an abbot, though he is actually, based on the description of him, a friar, even though the book is called The Monk—this complete disregard of accuracy in Catholicism is typical of Lewis), who is regarded as a saint by the citizens of Madrid: he captivates audiences when he gives sermons to the people, and has been chosen to be the confessor who all the nuns of Saint Clare's Convent confess to. While Ambrosio is certainly very pious, he is also a very vain and prideful man, and the monastery has safely guarded him from temptation until now. His origins are mysterious, as he was left abandoned on the steps of the abbey, and so the monks took him in and raised him as one of their own. He becomes very close to a novice, Rosario, who's origins and admittance into the monastery are a mystery. He has a soft voice, a fine and fair face, and never takes off his hood. Rosario eventually confesses to Ambrosio that he is actually a woman, and her real name is Matilda.

Matilda loves Ambrosio, but she loves him for his virtuosity, and tells him that she would no longer love him if she made him a sinner:

"Think not, Ambrosio, that I come to rob your Bride of your affections. No, believe me: Religion alone deserves you; and far is it from Matilda's wish to draw you from the paths of virtue. What I feel for you is love, not licentiousness; I sigh to be possessor of your heart, not lust for the enjoyment of your person."

"No, Father, No! I expect not to inspire you with a love like mine. I only wish for the liberty to be near you, to pass some hours of the day in you society; to obtain your compassion, your friendship and esteem."

"I love you for your virtues: Lose them, and with them you lose my affections. I look upon you as a Saint; Prove to me that you are no more than Man, and I quit you with disgust."
—The Monk, Volume I, Chapter II

Not only is Ambrosio vain, but the temptation of a woman has now shown him that he is lustful, and the temptation displeases him. When he curses her and tries to cast her out, she tears open her habit and places a dagger on her heart, her "beauteous Orb", which sexually excites Ambrosio. He remains strong and permits her to stay and to keep her secret, but desires to remain separate from her. While Ambrosio is picking a flower (as a parting gift) for Matilda a serpent bites him, and his recovery is regarded as a miracle, and Matilda never leaves his side.

Ambrosio has on the wall of his cell a painting of the Virgin Mary, which he holds a near-lustful admiration for. Matilda confesses to him that she herself was the model for this painting, and that she saw to it that he receive it—she clearly desired him long before she entered the monastery. Ambrosio's lust finally gets the best of him:

"No prying eye, or curious ear was near the Lovers: Nothing was heard but Matilda's melodious accents. Ambrosio was in the full vigour of Manhood. ...He forgot his vows, his sanctity, and his fame: He remebered nothing but the pleasure and opportunity.
"'Ambrosio! Oh! my Ambrosio!' sighed Matilda."
—The Monk, Volume I, Chapter II

Of course, he soon regrets his actions, and curses her, but being a lustful man he soon returns to her for many nights of carnal pleasure. He soon grows tired of her, and desires someone new. This someone new turns out to be a young girl, Antonia. He soon is asked to come to her home to give last rites to her mother; he having already broken his vow of chastity, he now decides to break his vow of never leaving the monastery. He visits Antonia's house a second time, and when he gets the chance to be alone in a room with Antonia, he tries to rape her, but Antonia's mother, having regained some strength catches him. Antonia is much too innocent to understand what the abbot was trying to do to her, and she still remains fond of him, while her mother forbids Ambrosio to ever come near her home or daughter again.

Matilda eventual resigns from Ambrosio: though she still dedicates herself to him, she will no longer have sex with him, as he does not love her, but is only trying to satisfy his appetite. Matilda helps design a scheme for Ambrosio to have Antonia, which she designs with some demonic assistance: she summons the Devil through black arts, sells her soul to the Enemy of Mankind, and he now serves her every command. While Ambrosio refuses to consort with Satan, he does accept Matilda's help via the Devil: "...as He employed her assistance, not that of Dæmons, the crime of Sorcery could not be laid to his charge. He had read much respecting witchcraft: He understood that unless a formal Act was signed renouncing his claim to salvation, Satan would have no power over him" (The Monk, Vol. II.IV). The plan they devise is for Ambrosio to sneak out of the monastery, touch the door of the house with a silver myrtle to unlock the door, and all in the house would be under a spell of deep sleep, and he may be permitted to have his way with his victim. All goes according to plan, but some how Elvira, Antonia's mother awakens and catches Ambrosio trying once again to rape her daughter. She tries to hold him and scream for help, but Ambrosio silences her by choking her to death (Vol. III.I).

Still determined to have his victim, he again gains the help of Matilda, who gathers a liquor from the laboratory in Saint Clare's Convent which causes a state of such deep sleep that the person is perceived to be dead (possibly digitalis); Ambrosio will poison her with it, and Antonia, now an orphan, will be buried in the catacombs under Saint Clare's Convent (which is connected to Saint Francis Monastery; Ambrosio's monastery), and once her body is there Ambrosio may have his way with her forever. The plan is executed and goes through like clockwork. Antonia is laid in a chamber deep in Saint Clare's catacombs, and when she awakens Ambrosio is there to comfort her, and then he overtakes and rapes her. Afterwards he immediately hates her and himself, curses her, and then refuses to ever let her go; though he would never desire her again, he must let her die in this tomb. Antonia tries to escape, but Ambrosio stabs her; the wound is fatal and she, like her mother, perishes (Vol. III.IV).

Ambrosio is caught after this murder and held prisoner by the Inquisition, as is Matilda. He is tortured and questioned. Eventually Matilda comes to his cell unaccompanied and with ease (some Melmoth the Traveler is capable of doing and does so for Monçada when he is held by the inquisition after escaping the convent): she has made a deal with the Devil (something she apparently had already done) and he is taking her away to a paradise until the end of her days, and that he, Ambrosio, too, can come, if only he denounce God and sell his soul to Satan. He eventually does this, but never makes any other terms with the deal other than to escape, so Satan takes him to a dark, mountainous region to torture and kill Ambrosio. The Devil reveals that Matilda is his minion that he sent her to tempt Ambrosio, and that Elvira was Ambrosio's mother, and that Antonia was his sister—he murdered his mother, and then raped and murdered his own sister (Vol. III.V).

"...a moment suffices to make him to-day the detestation of the world, who yesterday was its Idol."
—The Monk, Volume III, Chapter I

The Lovers' Tale—a story embedded in Monçada's Tale in Melmoth the Wanderer—shares a number of similarities with Ambrosio's downfall; and though many things are changed—e.g. who does what to whom has been changed—most of the elements are still there.

While Monçada is waiting in the catacombs with his guide—a man who murdered his own father—for the sun to set so they can escape the monastery through the garden, his guide tells him a tragic story of two lovers whose fate led them to their deaths in a chamber Monçada and his parricidal accomplice (who is never named) are sitting adjacent to.

In their ex-Jesuit monastery was a young monk—a pious and good monk—who was of a distinguished family of Spain, and, like Monçada, had taken up the monastic life because of his parents' marriage (the father had married below his rank). One day a young novice enters the monastery and becomes close friends with this young monk. This novice had peculiar mannerisms, and came under suspicion.

"The friendship of convents is always a treacherous league—we watch, suspect, and torment each other for the love of God."

"One evening as the young monk and his darling novice were in the garden, the former plucked a peach, which he immediately offered to his favourite; the latter accepted it with a movement I thought rather awkward—it seemed like what I imagined would be the reverence of a female. The young monk divided the peach with a knife; in doing so, the knife grazed the finger of the novice, and the monk, in agitation inexpressible, tore his habit to bind up the wound."
—Melmoth the Wanderer, Volume II, Chapter IX

The parricidal monk reports their behavior to the superior of the convent, who gives him permission to spy and report their actions and behavior back to him. One night, while waiting in the dark hallway the parricidal monk heard someone enter the young monk's cell, so he reported this to the superior and his four attendants. They entered the cell and found the novice to be a woman, and the two of them having sex: "The wretched husband and wife were locked in each others arms... to see two human beings of different sexes, who dared to love each other in spite of monastic ties..."

"Angels, as I had thought them, they had all proved themselves mortal..." The superior, wishing to give the lovers the strictest punishment, directed the parricidal monk to help them "escape" the convent through the catacombs under the monastery and out through the garden (the exact same route he was taking Monçada as he told the story). He leads the lovers into a chamber so they may rest, and then closes the door behind them—they figured he was being cautious and protecting them. The superior soon arrived and nailed the door shut, and the lovers cried out in terror: "...they knew their doom."

At first the lovers comforted each other, but after about twelve hours—as hunger sets in and the hard, cold floor begins to discomfort—the man blames and curses the woman. They soon grow to hate each other. On the fourth day: "I heard the shriek of the wretched female,—her lover, in the agony of hunger, had fastened his teeth in her shoulder;—that bosom on which he had so often luxuriated, became a meal to him now." The two lovers perished on the sixth day. All this time the parricidal monk had remained outside the door of the chamber to spy on them as "penance". After the lovers had died of starvation the door was ripped off and they were found on opposite ends of the chamber. When their bodies were removed from the chamber, our monk gets a good look at the woman's face and recognizes her as his own sister (Vol. II.IX).

Some similarities jump out immediate: both lovers (i.e. Ambrosio and Matilda, and the nameless lovers) are initially in state of bliss despite their knowledge of each others' sex, symbolized by their moment in the garden; this bliss is ended with the plucking of a fruit (a flower by Ambrosio and a peach by the young monk) and quickly followed by a bite (by a snake in The Monk and a knife in Melmoth the Wanderer). Both pairs of lovers soon engage in a sexual affair, which opens up the way to their doom.

Character roles are mixed up in Melmoth the Wanderer: for instance, the snake bites Ambrosio, while the knife bites the female novice (Matilda's equivalent).

Ambrosio is presented as a devilish figure—throughout The Monk he is described in a manner that is remarkably similar to Milton's descriptions of Satan in Paradise Lost, and when he was found on the doorstep of the monastery "The common People say, that He fell from heaven" (Vol. II.III; while this could easily be regarded as an endearing statement about his divinity and angelic nature, Lucifer, too, fell from Heaven); additionally, in Volume I.I of The Monk Lorenzo has a dream where he sees Ambrosio as a demon that rapes Antonia and pulls her down to Hell—while the nameless parricidal monk is more of the devilish figure—he is repeatedly called "demonic" by Monçada and generally regarded as evil. With this in mind, Ambrosio as a devil kills his own sister, and the parricidal monk as a devil also kills his sister; though neither knew their victims were their own sisters when they executed them. Thus Ambrosio and the parricidal monk are akin to one another.

The female novice in the Lovers' Tale is akin to Matilda in The Monk, because she had disguised herself and had sex with a monk; but Matilda is a servant of Satan, and was sent to tempt Ambrosio into perdition; and since the female novice was the murder victim of her own brother, she is also comparable to Antonia in The Monk. Thus, the female novice is both Matilda and Antonia. Likewise, since the parricidal monk also kills the young monk, he is also like Satan, because Satan killed Ambrosio. Thus our kinslaying monk is both Satan and Ambrosio.

While Maturin appears to be stealing almost completely from Lewis, Maturin does do something with Lewis' characters in his Lovers' Tale that makes it exceptional: he combines and mixes actions and personalities to create dualistic, if not contradictory characters. Matilda and Antonia are practically opposites of each other, and Maturin wraps them up in the same body. He reinforces the Satanic character of the Ambrosio character, while simultaneously he divides Ambrosio into two individuals: (i.e. the young monk and the parricidal monk). This dualistic and or contradictory nature of Maturin's characters further adds to his continuous theme of contradiction and dualism throughout Melmoth the Wanderer.

Further reading:
Lewis, Matthew. The Monk.
Maturin, Charles. Melmoth the Wanderer.

Melmoth the Wanderer: Jesuit Rites of Passage and Alonzo Monçada's Tale

The Expulsion of the Jesuits from Spain, by Charles Maucourt

Most of us have met someone who, when they tell you a story, they go on many tangents; they tell you one story and then say, "I told you that story to tell you this story...", or while telling one story they break from it and tell a tangential story, then later come back and finish the initial story; some of us have met someone who will tell one story, break into a tangent, and while on that tangent they break it and go deeper into another tangent—somewhat like the film Inception. Melmoth the Wanderer, by Charles Maturin, is quite similar; it is composed primarily of embedded stories, all of which in some manner feature a strange man named John Melmoth "The Traveler", who is over a 150 years old and sold his soul to the Devil for longevity and variety of powers; but he wants out of his Faustian pact, and travels the world looking for sinners or easily corruptible individuals who are in a deplorable and hopeless situation (i.e. prison, mental asylum, near death) to take his place. Each story has its own theme, most of which are critiques and criticisms on religion, in particular Christianity, and specifically Catholicism (Maturin was an Irish Protestant clergyman); the criticisms generally center around human suffering to monasticism.

The story that is of particular interest here is the tale of Alonzo Monçada, who is forced from a young age to enter into a monastic life, which is greatly protests. The monastery he enters is that of ex-Jesuits (as Monçada's story takes place in Spain in the late 18th Century, presumably after the Spanish Jesuits were suppressed in 1767). While they are ex-Jesuits they still retain a lot of aspects of the Society of Jesus (i.e. Jesuits), such as their various titles, their strict religious observances, et cetera. Unlike Jesuits, these ex-Jesuits do not act like their former counterparts as a secret society with symbolic rites of passage and trails of trust of fraternal bondage. However, in Monçada's tale he does undergo trails that resemble rites of passage in the Society of Jesus.

To briefly summarize the beginning of Monçada's tale: he was the first son of one of Spain's first families, but he was born out of wedlock, and thus he is a child born of sin, which he must be punished for (this is Maturin's critical condemnation of Original Sin), and is forced to enter into monastic life, which he repeatedly detested. He opted to appeal to a council to have his vows nullified and to be freed—against the admonishment of his superiors and family—but this appeal is eventually denied. Reminiscent of Anges' story in Matthew Lewis' The Monk, Monçada is brought before the superior and his four closest monks, who take him into the bowels of the monastery and locked in a damp, dark dungeon as punishment, left with only a rosary, stale bread to "moisten with his tears", a mat to sleep on, and the reptiles the crawl on him. He is eventually freed from the dungeon, but everything has rendered Monçada an outcast in the monastery, and he is shunned amongst the other monks, who call him the Devil. Since he was of a prominent Spanish family, his room was originally well furnished, filled with books and beautiful prints and paintings, and everyday adorn with fresh flowers—none of which brought him any pleasure. The monks beginning to take away the flowers, the books, prints, furniture, et cetera, until he is left with only a bed and a mattress. He has also been denied entry into the church for mass and prayer, as well as denied food and water, save for the scraps that are  mixed with ash and hair that the cook throws at him.

After everything is taken from him, save for a bed to sleep on, Monçada awakes in the middle of the night in his cell to be greeted by demonic images:

"I awoke one night, and saw my cell in flames; I started up in horror, but shrunk back on perceiving myself surrounded by demons, who, clothed in fire, were breathing forth clouds of it around me. Desperate with horror, I rushed against the wall, and found what I touched was cold. My recollection returned, and I comprehended, that these were hideous figures scrawled in phosphorus, to terrify me. I then returned to my bed, and as the day-light approached, observed these figures gradually decline."
—Melmoth the Wanderer, Volume II, Chapter VI

He protests this prank by the monks to superior, who ignores him. The next night he is then greeted by an infernal voice in his cell that speaks blasphemes to him, and tells him to trample upon the crucifix and spit upon the image of the Virgin. (While the origin of the tempting voice is never addressed, it can be concluded to be either Melmoth the Traveler or the monks further torturing him). The voice never lets him sleeps, so he is perpetually tired, hungry, scared, and overall in poor health. At one point the demonic entity comes to Monçada as the blessed Virgin Mary, to which he feels relief until the voice returns and tells him to curse the Virgin, and she disappears.

All of this—the starvation, dehydration, solitary confinement, trails and pranks featuring demonic images and infernal voices—resemble the initiation of a novice into the Society of Jesus. Jesuits have four degrees (i.e. ranks): Coadjutores Temporaries, Scholastici, Coadjutores Spirituales, and Professi.

Initiations into the first degree, Coadjurotes Temporaries, begin with the candidate fasting for a prolonged period of time. Before the trail the candidate is given an intoxicating drink, and then he undergoes a twenty-four hour long trail of infernal scenes of "diabolical apparitions, evocations of the dead, representations of the flames of hell, skeletons, moving skulls, artificial thunder and lightning" (Heckethorn, Secret Societies, Book IX.VIII.335) and other images and dramatizations.

Monçada, after being denied his appeal to be released from his monastic vows, conspires with his brother, Juan Monçada, (who receives all the rites and benefits of a first born son, because he was the first born in wedlock—which is reminiscent of Ishmael and Isaac, Esau and Jacob, Ruben and Joseph) to escape the monastery. Juan finds a man within the monastery who could be bought and help Alonzo Monçada escape; problem is that this man murdered his own father for a small amount of money, and is now under the protection of the ex-Jesuits. This murderer leads Monçada through the catacombs under the monastery, and at one point tells Monçada to go down a narrow passage, which he nearly gets stuck in. Monçada is able to escape the snare and finds himself with his guide waiting for the sun to set again (as they were delayed a whole day by getting lost) and escape through the garden (Melmoth, Vol. II.VIII). While waiting by the exit, the murderer tells Monçada about the chamber they are sitting just outside of: it is a story that is practically stolen from Lewis' The Monk concerning the affair of Ambrosio and Matilda; according to the murderer: a very noble and pious monk becomes close friends with a younger monk, who turns out to be a woman in disguise; they have a love affair for some time until they are caught; their punishment, per the strict religious observances of Jesuits, is death, so our murderer gains their trust and makes them believe he is helping them escape, but instead leads them to this chamber in the catacombs to starve to death; our murderer locks them in the chamber and listens for days as they console each other, then turn on each other, then attacking each other, and finally die (Melmoth, Vol. II.IX).

(The similarities of this story of the monastic lovers is so strikingly similar to Ambrosio and Matilda in The Monk that I plan on discussing it in another post).

This passage through the monastery catacombs is similar to the rites of the second degree, Scholastici, of the Jesuits: the candidate undergoes a prolong session of fasting, is hoodwinked, and then led into a cave or catacomb where howling and roaring sounds are produced (presumably by other Jesuit monks), and finally enter a special chamber, called the Cave of Evocation or the Black Chamber. The candidate would pass the time praying, and all the while be watched by priests. If the priests found the candidate's behavior and demeanor acceptable, then two brethren would enter the chamber as angels, strip the neophyte naked and perform various rites (such as drawing crosses on his body in blood), and there will be a procession of "spectres, phantoms, angels and demons" (no, I am not exaggerating any of this), and have the candidate make an oath to his brethren (Heckethorn, Secret Societies, Book IX.VIII.335).

Monçada's tale goes on (and on and on and on... it is a long story), but what happens is irrelevant to this writing.

Now, clearly Maturin does not follow the Jesuit rites of passage point by point—if for no other reason than the fact that at the time the Jesuits were dissolved and could no longer perform their rites, but also because Monçada is the last person they would confer their rites upon—but it is easily recognizable that motifs and elements of Jesuit initiation rituals are present in Monçada's tale. Exactly why they are included in the tale is a bit of mystery to me. If anything, it seems Maturin placed them in his story for the purpose of demonstrating that he knew the rites of the Jesuits (something that became public knowledge after their dissolution). In his defense, Monçada's tale is both dark and condemning of Catholic Church's practices and the various practices they condoned, and these Jesuit rites add to his story and criticisms.

In a way, the ex-Jesuits only wanted Monçada to be a part of their monastery; they contrived "miracles" to make him believe it was God's will that he be a monk; they lie and manipulate his family to make him enter the monastery and remain there. The irony of this portion of Monçada's tale is that in order to escape his monastic life with the ex-Jesuits he had to undergo the rites of two Jesuit degrees. But this sort irony and contradiction is somewhat of a recurring theme in Melmoth the Wanderer: for instance, Melmoth the Traveler is a Faustian character, as he sold his soul to the Devil, but in order to get out of the pact he has to play the part of Mephistopheles and tempt others to take his place in the pact. A much simpler example: the Jesuit brethren curse and spit on and avoid Monçada, and he remarks how unchristian this is: "...how little of the spirit of Jesus was to be found in the house of his nominal brethren." Thus it is not capricious or whimsical for Maturin to have Monçada undergo Jesuit initiation rites, as it carries with his themes of dualism, contradiction, paradox, and irony that pervades every character, place, situation, object, and story.

"In some circumstances, where the whole world is against us, we begin to take its part against ourselves, to avoid the withering sensation of being alone on our own side."
—Melmoth the Wanderer, Volume II, Chapter VI

Further readings:
Maturin, Charles. Melmoth the Wanderer.
Heckethorn, Charles. The Secret Societies of All Ages and Countries.

Magnolia: The Number 82

In my last post on P.T. Anderson's film, Magnolia (1999), I discussed the references to Freemasonry in the film, and how those references became somewhat of theme that seems to have no real meaning, i.e. something that happens. There is another prevailing element in Magnolia that is scattered throughout the film as a sort of Easter egg: the number 82, or simply the number 8 and 2 together. I am fairly certain that 82 occurs in more instances than I am presenting them, but the following examples are the ones I was able to catch in the last two viewings of the film; in fact, it is something I never noticed before watching the film again for the purpose of writing the Freemasonry post. Unlike the Masonic references, the number 82 has a more definite place in the film that is relevant to the plot and the general theme of "something that happens" — one might even say that the number 82 has "meaning" in Magnolia.

Magnolia begins with three stories of strange coincidences, all of which are based in reality, though with many dramatic changes for the film.

Prisoner No. 82 (presumably Daniel Hill)

The first story is "The Account of Hanging Three Men": Joseph Green, Stanley Berry, and Daniel Hill, who murdered Sir Edmund William Godfrey in the town of Greenberry Hill on the 26^th of November 1911. (There was in reality a man named Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey who was mysteriously murdered on Primrose Hill, near Regent's Park, London on the 12^th of October 1678). In the film the strange coincidence is that the last names of the three murderers (i.e. Green, Berry, and Hill) create the name of the town, Greenberry Hill.

The three men were hanged, and the last of whom — presumably Daniel Hill — is inmate No. 82.

Craig Hansen's airtanker, No. 82.

The next story is that of a scuba diver, Delmer Darion, whose body was found up in a tree after a forest fire. Darion was scuba diving in a lake when an airtanker picked him up out of the lake and dropped him along with the lake water onto a nearby forest fire. (This is an urban legend that has circulated since the 1980s, and though there is one instance of a scuba diver being injured by an airtanker collecting water, never has a diver been taken up into the payload, as it is nearly impossible for a human to fit through the small aperture). The pilot of the airtanker, Craig Hansen, had been playing blackjack in a casino the previous day, whose blackjack dealer was Delmer Darion.

The number on Hansen's airtanker is 82.

"All I need is a two."

"That is an eight."

Furthermore concerning Delmer Darion and Craig Hansen is that Hansen attacked Darion because Hansen lost the hand. All he needed was two, but Darion laid an eight: 8 and 2.

 1961 AAFS awards dinner starts at 8:20 P.M.

The third and final opening story is that of a fail suicide that turned into a successful homicide of Sydney Barringer. The account is told by Dr. Donald Harper at the 1961 awards dinner for the American Association of Forensic Science. (In reality the story is a fictitious one about a boy named Ronald Opus, and was given by Donald Harper Mills, president of the American Academy of Forensic Science in 1987). The banquet began at 8:20 P.M.

Sydney Barringer about to jump with the number 82 on the parapet wall to his left.

Barringer apartment, No. 682

The account given is that of a boy, Sydney Barringer, decides to commit suicide because of his parents constant fighting, which always devolves into threats of violence with a gun. Sydney jumps, but would have survived because of a safety net below, but was killed by a shotgun blast from his father's gun that struck him as he passed the window to his family's apartment. The gun is usually unloaded, but Sydney had loaded it six days prior in hopes that one of his parents would finally kill the other, but instead it killed him. Thus Sydney became an accomplice to his own murder.

On the parapet wall that Sydney jumps from is the number 82 laid out in rope. The Barringer's apartment number is 682 — the 82^nd apartment on the sixth floor.

The middle two digits of the phone number for Seduce and Destroy is 82.

The film proper starts off with a television ad of Frank T.J. Mackey selling Seduce and Destroy, a self-help program for men who want to get laid (essentially a how-to guide to getting out of what is now called "the friend zone", and finally laying the girl who only sees the man as a friend): the phone number for ordering a copy of Seduce and Destroy has the number 82 as the middle two digits (on a touch-tone phone these numbers would translate into the letters T and A — tits and ass? — as the phone number spells out "TAME-HER"). This may be stretching and twisting the case, but it is not without merit.

"...if you are this person, please leave me a message at box number 8-2."

In the same opening title sequence as the Seduce and Destroy ad is a clip of Officer Jim Kurring going about his morning routine. At one point he his watching a dating service on television, which is airing his own advertisement for a significant other. His advertisement ends with "...if you are this person, please leave me a message at box number 8-2."

Analog clock at just past eight o'clock; presumably 8:02 A.M.

At the end of the opening title sequence is a scene of Officer Jim Kurring in the morning meeting at the police precinct. The analog clock on the back wall is a little past eight, and is presumably at 8:02 A.M. This is probably stretching it a bit, but, again, it is worth mentioning.

82% chance of rain.

Following the opening title sequence the day's weather forecast is given: "Partly Cloudy, 82% Chance of Rain." It is an absurdly precise probability of precipitation.

All of these occur within the first fifteen minutes of the film, and they are really the last of the 82s in the film until it reappears again later as a Biblical reference.

A man in the audience holds up a sign with "EXODUS 8:2" written on it (left).

A sign on a bus stop has "EXODUS 8:2" printed on it (left).

Billboard with "EXODUS 8:2" printed on it (left).

There are three instance of 82's reappearance later in the film: first, when the television show, What Do Kids Know?, begins and a man in the audience holds up a sign with "EXODUS 8:2" written on, to which a security personnel confiscates it; then later — after the rain clears but before it begins to rain frogs — the same Biblical chapter and verse are seen in an advertisement space on the side of bus stop, and a few minutes later as it begins to rain frogs the same thing is seen printed on a billboard.

Exodus 8:2 reads:

"And if thou refuse to let them go, behold, I will smite all thy borders with frogs."(KJV)

This concerns the portion in Exodus when Moses is pleading with the Pharaoh to let the Jews go free or God will send seven plagues (to which God deliberately "hardens" the Pharaoh's heart so that he will refuse, thus inevitably unleashing the plagues). And so it happens in Magnolia that it rains frogs — one of those strange, naturally occurring phenomena. So who is the "them" that needs to be freed in Magnolia? Given that the first time we see "Exodus 8:2" written is on the kids' show, so the "them" is probably the kids, or at least Stanley, who is poorly treated by his father and presumably forced to play on the show so his father can take the money his son wins. Stan — who is not allowed to use the bathroom and ends up soiling his pants — at one point refuses to play the game and says:

"This isn't funny. This isn't cute. See the way we're looked at? Because I'm not a toy. I'm not a doll. The way we're looked at because you think we're cute? Because, what? I'm made to feel like a freak if I answer questions? Or I'm smart? Or I have to go to the bathroom? What is that, Jimmy? What is that?"

The situation of the father taking his son's money from the game show, What Do Kids Know?, that is currently befalling Stanley Spector is the same fate that befell "Quiz Kid" Donnie Smith, who was later struck by lightning and suffered brain damage. While Donnie is vomiting in the bathroom at the bar he can be heard reciting Exodus 20:5: "...the sins of the father laid upon the children..."

In fact, one general theme of Magnolia is that of sinful — or simply terrible — fathers: Frank Mackey's father, Earl Partridge, left him and his mother while his mother was dying; Claudia's father, Jimmy Gator, sexually abused her as a child; Craig Hansen (the water bomber pilot that picked up the scuba diver) is an "estranged father of four"; Sydney Barringer's parents constantly fought, and their fighting inevitably killed him; et cetera.

Thus it may be surmised that it is the children who need to be freed from the wickedness of their fathers or "the good Lord bring the rain in"... which so happened to be a deluge of frogs. Of course, given the complexity of the film, these elements can be parsed several different ways and yield a variety of interpretations.

But this not to say that the number 82 is related to the "sins of the father", albeit in way it is; rather 82 is related to those strange things — those mysterious matters of chance — that simply happen, and they happen all the time.

Magnolia: Four References to Freemasonry

P.T. Anderson's Magnolia (1999) is not a simple movie — not by a long shot. It is filled with symbolism, allegory, and a complex web of inter-connecting lives and happenings. The film alludes to several Biblical passages and events, e.g. Exodus 8:2 and Exodus 20:5. But one of the more peculiar and stranger references made in the film are those that allude to Freemasonry: there are three distinct instances and one slightly more debatable instance.

Albert Mackey's The History of Freemasonry (top right)

The first notable instance is when Stanley Spector, the boy genius, is studying in the school library; he has an array of books before him, many of which are meteorological, and one is Wild Talents by Charles Fort (yes, the Charles Fort, researcher of strange phenomena and author of The Book of the Damned), but the book that is of interest here is Albert Mackey's The History of Freemasonry (another point that deserved a mention that may or may not have merit is that this book is written by Albert Mackey, who shares his last name with Tom Cruise's character, Frank T.J. Mackey). It is most probable that Stan brought this book from home (in one of those four bags of books he brings to school every day), as this seems to be an unlikely text to find in a middle school library.

Masonic Square and Compasses on Burt's ring.
"We met upon the level, and we're parting on the square."

The next instance has two Masonic references together: television kids show host, Jimmy Gator, is dying of cancer, and before he goes out to host his first show since he found out he has cancer, his friend and the show's executive, Burt Ramsey, places his left hand upon Jimmy's shoulder and says, "We met upon the level, and we're parting on the square." To which Jimmy says, "In my fucking sleep, Burt." On Burt's little finger is a gold ring with the Masonic Square and Compasses on it.

The phrase "we met upon the level, and we're parting on the square" comes from Freemasonry. At the closing of every Blue Lodge — the First, Second, and Third Degrees — the following is said:

Worshipful Master: Brother Senior Warden, how should Masons meet?
Senior Warden: Upon the level.
Worshipful Master: How act, Brother Junior Warden?
Junior Warden: By the plumb.
Worshipful Master: And part upon the square. So, my brethren, may we ever meet, act, and part, in the name of the Lord.

Clearly this is Burt's farewell to Jimmy.

The level, square, and plumb are the three tools of a Fellow Craft (Second Degree). They have their functional purposes for operative stonemasons, but to speculative Masons they have symbolic meanings. These meanings are given to the newly made Fellow Craft as such:

"...the Plumb admonishes us to walk uprightly in our several stations, before God and men, squaring our actions by the Square of virtue, and remembering that we are traveling upon the Level of time to that undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveler returns."

(Yes, that last part is from Hamlet, Act III, which I will not get into in this post). In general, Masons are taught that the plumb symbolizes how Masons should act: upright; the level symbolizes equality, so that two Masons meet on equal terms, and that no Mason is better than another Mason; and the square symbolizes that Masons should "square their actions", or right their actions (i.e. right- or ortho- angle) and act virtuously.

Compasses over a laurel branches (right)

The fourth instance is is more subtle, as well as questionable in my mind, but its worth presenting it anyway: among the icons on the square panels behind the contestants on the show that Jimmy Gator hosts, What Do Kids Know?, is a set of compasses placed over two olive or laurel branches. Other emblems on the panels are (from right to left, top to bottom): the tragedy and comedy masks, the Greek letter π (pi), compass and laurel branches, balancing scales, a globe, a paint brush and pallet, Bohr's atomic structure, the Caduceus, a weather vein with the cardinal directions, a hand holding a quill, a harp, and a book with an oil lamp. Context in this case is of little help (aside from all these Masonic references centering around the television show), as the other emblems do not lend much to the Masonic theme, save maybe the seven liberal arts, which are emphasized in the Fellow Craft Degree; but then again, emblems of the seven liberal arts are appropriate to a trivia television show (i.e. the trivium: grammar, rhetoric, and logic; the first three part of the seven liberal arts). Compasses over a laurel branch is not a Masonic emblem, though it can very easily be interpreted as one: the curve of the two branches resembles in some regards the emblem of a Past Master, which has an arc under the compasses; the laurel or olive branch (both of which are borrowed from the iconography from the ancient Greeks and Roman Empire) denote peace and unity — hence the use of the olive branches on NATO's logo, the olive branch held by the eagle on the back of the one-dollar bill, et cetera — peace and harmony and unity all being virtues exalted by Freemasons.

Emblem of a Past Master

There is perhaps one other reference to Freemasonry in the opening stories, particularly the first story of "The Hanging of Three Men": a gentleman and businessman is murdered by three men who were trying to rob him. This can be argued to be a reference to the Masonic legend of Hiram Abif, Grand Master and architect of King Solomon's Temple (while this legend borrows a little from the Bible, it is strictly a Masonic invention), who is murdered by three Fellow Crafts (known as the Three Ruffians) who wish to extort the secrets of a Master Mason from him. Perhaps this "reference" is coincidental, or perhaps it is actually derived from Hiramic Legend (neither would surprise me).

Exactly why these references to Freemasonry are found in Magnolia is somewhat perplexing, and has no simple answer. Nothing else in the film is even remotely Masonic, save for these four instances. So, then, why are they there in the first place? And what do they mean in the context of the movie?

Oh it probably means something, but from our uninformed point of view it means nothing; it is a coincidence... one of those things that happens. As Stan says while it is raining frogs: "This is something that happens" (something he would have learned from one of his meteorology books and his book of "Unusual Natural Phenomena"). Why does it rain frogs? Because it is something that happens. From an Existential point of view this is something that just happens, and has no a priori meaning. From an Absurdist point of view this is something strange that happens, has no meaning — at least none that is comprehensible or discoverable to humans — but we have the choice to create our own meaning. (I hesitate to bring up Jung's concept of synchronicity, but, there, I have brought it up, so ponder it if you will).

I am certain others have written on the references to Freemasonry in Magnolia, and they probably have some wild speculations as to why those references are in the film, but I refuse to read them. To be honest, the Masonic references placed in Magnolia without rhyme or reason is — in my opinion — something appropriate to the film: it is something that happens (for Freemasons do exist), and the reasons for these happenings is a conundrum from our uninformed vantage point.

To quote the narrator (voiced by Ricky Jay, who also plays Burt Ramsey) at the beginning of the film:

"...And I would like to think this was only a matter of chance. ... And it is in the humble opinion of this narrator that this is not just something that happened. This cannot be one of those things. This, please, cannot be that. And for what I would like to say, I can't. This was not just a matter of chance. Oh, these strange things happen all the time."

Plato's Honey Head: Darden's Title Image to Condemned Building

Title Image of Condemned Building by Douglas Darden

In my previous post on Douglas Darden's frontispiece to Condemned Building I briefly discussed the title image of the same book. While I discussed the title image's theme of decapitation as a theme in tandem with the frontispiece's theme of overturning, it is, in my opinion, a cursory and all too brief of an analysis of the title image itself. In particular I wish to focus on the passage from Moby-Dick that Darden inscribes on the side of the guillotine:

"How many, think ye, have likewise fallen into Plato's honey head and sweetly perished there?"
—Moby-Dick, Chapter LXXVIII

Before I began digging heavily into Darden and his work I had never read Moby-Dick, which I now regret as I continue to read such a delightful, humorous, insightful, and ponderous tome as is Melville's magnum opus. Rather than actually read Moby-Dick, I instead did cursory search through Plato until I found some references to bees and honey, which of course is not without just reasoning; but the simple fact is that what this passage means can be found in Moby-Dick itself.

Beginning with the latter half of Moby-Dick a sperm whale is captured and killed (Chapter LXI), then it is skinned of most of its blubber (Chapter LXVIII) — or as much blubber as could be gathered after the sharks had their feast — then they behead it (Chapter LXX), let the carcase drift into the sea for the sharks to eat, while they keep the head hooked to the ship for some time. Contrary to established whaling practices, Captain Ahab announces that if a right whale should be spotted, that it should be hunted, cut, beheaded, and attached to the other side of the ship; which is then done (Chapter LXXIII).

With the two different whale heads — a sperm and a right whale — attached to opposite sides of the ships, Melville presents a rather brilliant image of a noble and an 'ignoble' leviathan counterbalanced, which is an image that is loaded with symbolism and allegory, but far too afield for the purpose of this post. The two whale heads are presented as contraries (not necessarily opposites, but only different — as the two chapters describing the two heads are subtitled "Contrasted View"), and Ishmael describes the differences in the anatomy of the two heads. The latter of the two chapters describing the anatomy of the two heads ends with this:

"I think his [the sperm whale's] brow to be full of a prairie-like placidity, born of a speculative indifference as to death. ... Does not this whole head [of the right whale] seem to speak of an enormous practical resolution in facing death? This right whale I take to have been a Stoic; the sperm whale, a Platonian, who might have taken up Spinoza in his latter years."
—Chapter LXXV

Next the head of the sperm whale is described as being both like a great wine vat, namely alluding to the Heidelburgh Tun (which holds over fifty-thousand gallons of wine), and a beehive: "The lower subdivided part [of the forehead], called the junk, is one immense honeycomb of oil, formed by the crossing and recrossing, into ten thousand infiltrated cells, of tough elastic white fibers throughout its whole extent" (Chapter LXXVII). This is the portion of the head in which spermaceti is found: that oil in which whaling became well practiced in the 18th and 19th Centuries, and is extracted in order to produce candles, perfume, lamp fuel, skin creams, and other oil-based substances.

Now we have a great deal of references to work with in understanding that passage Darden admired so greatly. The two leviathans are decapitated, and Ishmael regards the sperm whale as Platonic and the right whale as Stoic — justly we can call these two whales Plato and Zeno respectively. Plato's head is likened to that of a beehive containing that precious substance spermaceti, rather than honey. But like honey, spermaceti is described as being fluid, but will crystallize: "Though in life it remains perfectly fluid, yet, upon exposure to the air, after death, it soon begins to concrete; sending forth beautiful crystalline shoots..." (Chapter LXXVII). And again the leviathan's head is likened to that of a beehive in an earlier chapter: "...the sharks now freshly and more keenly allured by the before pent blood which began to flow from the carcase — the rabid creatures swarmed round it like bees in a beehive" (Chapter LXXII).

Thus, arriving now at Chapter LXXVIII, Cisterns and Buckets, we may comprehend Melville's meaning. The crew have now begun the process of extracting the spermaceti from Plato's head. One of the harpooners, Tashtego, climbs upon the head and cuts a hole into the forehead, and begins to scoop out the oil in buckets. While doing this he slips and falls into the hole and down into the great cavity of the Plato's head. At this very moment some of the hooks that held fast the head to the ship tore out, and the head began to sink into the sea. Suddenly Queequeg jumps into the ocean with a sword, cuts a hole on the underside of the head, and pulls Tashtego out by his head.

The whole scene is allegorical of life and death, birthing and dying. Tashtego falling into the head is like that of a boy who has fallen into a well; he is buried alive, and his grave (the head) sinks into the ocean. Queequeg is likened to that of a midwife and assisting in the birth of Tashtego, who is pulled out of the tomb-womb by the head via caesarean section. In fact, when Queequeg first reaches into the head he grabs a leg, but shoves that back in and grabs Tashtego's head: "...he came forth in the good old way — head foremost." Melville even makes light of the situation by writing: "Midwifery should be taught in the same course with fencing and boxing, riding and rowing"; and as the head was sinking into the ocean when Tashtego was birthed, the birth was called a "running delivery." (Furthermore on the note of humor: Tashtego writhing about in Plato's head is depicted as if the head suddenly had a thought: "...they saw the before lifeless head throbbing and heaving just below the surface of the sea, as if that moment seized with some momentous idea...").

Ishmael then begins to ponder what Tashtego's death would have been like if Queequeg had not save him. He believes it would have been a sweet and precious death:

"Now, had Tashtego perished in that head, it had been a very precious perishing; smothered in the very whitest and daintiest of fragrant spermaceti; coffined, hearsed and tombed in the secret inner chamber and sanctum sanctorum of the whale. Only one sweeter end can readily be recalled — the delicious death of an Ohio honey-hunter, who seeking honey in the crotch of a hollow tree, found such exceeding store of it, that leaning too far over, it sucked him in, so that he died embalmed."

Here are ideas and symbols swarming like bees about a hive: death, birth, Plato, sperm, temples, honeycombs, catacombs, tombs, King Solomon's Temple, the Holiest of Holies, midwifery, decapitation, contemplation, et cetera. No wonder Darden called Moby-Dick "the greatest novel in American history."

Thus we now have a much more informed idea of Darden's particular usage of this passage from Melville, as it presents an image of a decapitated whale's head and it is written on the side of a guillotine. The object mounted on top of the guillotine, which I suspect is a beehive or some contrivance derived therefrom, is further likened to the scene where Queequeg births Tashtego from Plato's honey head through an incision — the incision being depicted as a labia. In the spirit of the theme of overturning: the head was a tomb for Tashtego, but Queequeg overturns that into a womb from which Tashtego is birthed (mind you that the incision Queequeg cuts is on the underside/underbelly of the head). Et cetera and so forth. I am beginning to conjecture too much. In short, Melville's passage inscribed on the side of Darden's guillotine fits in perfectly with Darden's theme of decapitation for the title image, which is but another expression of overturning architecture to study its "underbelly."

Further reading:
Melville, Herman. Moby-Dick: or, The Whale. 1851.
Darden, Douglas. Condemned Building. Princeton Architectural Press. 1993.

Carcosa, Aldebaran, the Hyades, Hastur, and Other Terms from Chamber's The King In Yellow

Aldebaran (orange star, top left) amongst the Hyades and the Pleiades (blue cluster, right)

The first time I learned of Robert W. Chambers was while reading Lovecraft's essay Supernatural Horror in Literature about three years ago. I then learned that Chambers was one of Lovecraft's inspirations, but I did not really pay Chambers much attention until — like so many others, I imagine — I watched HBO's True Detective Season One, which makes a number of references to Chambers' iconic book, The King in Yellow: e.g. use of terms like Carcosa, the Yellow King, the sign, and saying things like, "Take off your mask."

Now, there is no real need to get into how True Detective uses these terms, names, and phrases in connection with The King in Yellow, as there are plenty of other blogs and forums that have tackled this fairly well. I, however, am concerned and wish to discuss what all those strange, vague, and ambiguous terms and names are in The King in Yellow — e.g. the King in Yellow, the Pallid Mask, the Yellow Sign, Carcosa, Hastur, the Lake of Hali, the Hyades, and Aldebaran — and attempt to define and describe them within the vague usage of those terms in the book. There definitions and meanings are strictly my own, and given with the utmost in-depthness and detail so far as I have been able to determine their meaning.

But firstly, a brief description of the book is in order. The King in Yellow is a series of ten short stories, the first four of which revolve around a fictitious play called The King in Yellow; the fifth story is a romantic supernatural tale (romantic in the sense of an amorous tale, and not in the same sense as Romantic fiction, though Chambers certainly is a preeminent Romantic writer); the sixth chapter is a set of eight whimsical and bizarre short prose writings; the last four stories are not like the standard Romantic horror fiction common of Chamber's early career or like the first four stories of The King in Yellow, but rather amorous Romantic writings that became common in Chamber's later career. But those strange terms that are iconic to The King in Yellow — and would later become a gold mine to other horror writers like H. P. Lovecraft, August Derleth, Stephen King, Donald Wandrei, et cetera who would use those terms — are only featured in the first four stories, with the exception of the name Hastur that is used in the fifth tale. So now to address those bizarre and vague terms and names, their usage, and probable definitions.

The King in Yellow refers to both a fictional play that drives its readers mad when they read it and a terrifying king in the play. The first story (The Repairer of Reputations) of Chamber's book is the one with the most information on the play: when the mad writer, whose name is not given, published the play it "spread like an infectious disease, from city to city, from continent to continent"; numerous governments and countries banned and confiscated copies of it, and was denounced by a number of media presses and "pulpits" (Repairer, I). Later it is rumored that the author killed himself, but at the same time it is said that he is still alive (Repairer, III). It is also regarded as book of great and monstrous truth: "I pray God will curse the writer, as the writer has cursed the world with this beautiful, stupendous creation, terrible in its simplicity, irresistible in its truth..." (Repairer, I); "...words understood by the ignorant and wise alike, words which are more precious than jewels, more soothing than music, more awful than death!" (The Yellow Sign, III). The play, which is composed of two acts, is written is such a way that the first act leaves the reader uneasy and disturbed; once the reader begins the second act he or she cannot put the book down, and is driven insane (Repairer, I; The Mask, III; The Yellow Sign, III). The King in Yellow himself is described as powerful ("He is a king whom emperors have served," Repairer, II), possibly cruel ("...that bitter cry of Cassilda, 'Not upon us, oh King, not upon us!'" Mask, III), wears tattered clothes ("Where flap the tatters of the King" Cassilda's Song, preface poem; "...wrapped in the fantastic colours of his tattered mantle... ...like the scolloped tatters of the King in Yellow." The Mask, III; "...for  I knew that the King in Yellow had opened his tattered mantle and there was only God to cry to now." The Yellow Sign, III), and blasphemous ("...I heard the King in Yellow whispering to my soul: 'It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God!'" In the Court of the Dragon). It is possible that the King in Yellow is not the rightful and lawful king of Carcosa, but we will return this possibility in the section on Hastur.

The Pallid Mask is a sickly, pale-white mask mentioned several times, and is worn by King in Yellow: Hildred Castaigne, the insane protagonist of The Repairer of Reputations, believes he is the successor to the throne — presumably of the throne of the King in Yellow — and claims "The city, the state, the whole land, were ready to rise and tremble before the Pallid Mask" (Repairer, III). Again in The Mask: "...I thought of the King in Yellow and the Pallid Mask" (Mask, III); and again in The Yellow Sign: "...but still we murmured to each other of the King and the Pallid Mask..." (Yellow Sign, III).

The Yellow Sign is the mark of the King in Yellow, and is probably worn on his tattered robes — Mr. Castaigne in The Repairer or Reputations puts on articles of clothing that he believes are royal articles, but in fact are rubbish, one of which is a "white silk robe, embroidered with the Yellow Sign" (Repairer, III). It seems anyone who receives the Yellow Sign is maddened and enslaved to the King in Yellow: "...every man whose name was there [in a ledger] had received the Yellow Sign which no living human being dared disregard (Repairer, III). It also appears to be a mark or symbol that is not of any known language: "... a clasp of black onyx, on which was inlaid a curious symbol or letter in gold. It was neither Arabic nor Chinese, nor, as I found afterwards, did it belong to any human script" (The Yellow Sign, II). It appears to be a symbol that is both valued and greatly feared by all who gaze upon it: in The Repairer of Reputations Castaigne hands a beggar a piece of paper with the Yellow sign on it, and the beggar "folded it with what seemed to me exaggerated care and placed it in his bosom" (Repairer, III), but remember Castaigne is mad; in The Yellow Sign Mr. Scott and Tessie argue over discarding the Yellow Sign on the onyx piece, but Mr. Scott cannot bring himself to do so, and a man that has been terrifying the two — in their dreams and waking life — is coming for the Yellow Sign. But at the same time it seems the Yellow sign is meaningless to some — presumable those who have no read The King in Yellow — such as Castaigne's cousin, Louis, who "flung the paper marked with the Yellow Sign to the ground" (Repairer, III).

Carcosa is a city that is ruled by the King in Yellow, and resides along the shores of a lake called the Lake of Hali. Descriptions of the city are few and vague, but those given paint the city as being surreal and dark: "The twin suns sink behind the lake, / The shadows lengthen / In Carcosa. / Strange is the night where black stars rise, / And strange moons circle through the skies, / But stranger still is / Lost Carcosa. / ... Dim Carcosa" (Cassilda's Song, preface poem); "Carcosa where black stars hang in the heavens; where the shadows of men's thoughts lengthen in the afternoon, when the twin suns sink into the Lake of Hali" (Repairer, I: — essentially a dark city where shadows lengthen in the afternoon, as opposed to shorten); "...the dim streets of Carcosa" (Repairer, III); "...the black stars which hang in the sky over Carcosa..." (Repairer, III); "...I saw the towers of Carcosa behind the moon" (Mask, III — essentially the surreal city has towers that are so tall they are seen behind the moon or moons); "...the towers of Carcosa rose behind the moon" (Court of the Dragon). Chambers actually borrows the name Carcosa from a short story written by Ambrose Bierce entitled The Inhabitant of Carcosa. Bierce probably derived the name Carcosa from a medieval city in southern France called Carcassone (or Carsac by the town's ancient Celtic inhabitants, and later Carcaso in Latin when the Romans turned it into a trading post). There is essentially no connection between Chambers' use of Carcosa and Bierce's, other than that Chambers probably just liked the name.

Hastur appears to be either a person or a city in the vague context of the play The King in Yellow, though the name Hastur is used as the name of a person in another one of the short stories, The Demoiselle D'Ys (part I), in book The King in Yellow that is actually completely irrelevant to the first four stories that center around that insane play. My opinion is divided as to whether Hastur is a person or a place, as the references to Hastur are extraordinarily vague. Chambers borrows the name Hastur from another short story by Bierce, Haita the Shepherd; Hastur being a benevolent deity of shepherds. In The Yellow Sign Hastur is mentioned with another person: "We spoke of Hastur and of Cassilda..." (Yellow Sign, III). In The Mask Hastur is simply mentioned among a list of places and objects: "Aldebaran, the Hyades, Alar [unknown what exactly Alar is], Hastur..." (Mask, III). It is in The Repairer of Reputations that much can be gathered to speculate on what Hastur is. It is my opinion that Hastur is some sort of rival to the King in Yellow, who may not be the rightful king of Carcosa. Hildred Castaigne, the insane protagonist, identifies with Hastur in his madness: "...I thought of Hastur and of my own rightful ambition..." (Repairer, III). Mr. Castaigne often parades in private wearing a crown he believes is made of gold and inlaid with jewels, but his cousin, Louis, tells him it is only made of brass, along with a silken robe embroidered with the Yellow Sign (Repaier, III). He also comes to believe his cousin to be a king — presumably the King in Yellow — and demands Louis renounce the crown to him (Repairer, III). Castaigne also has an unhealthy obsession with a book called The Imperial Dynasty of America, written by an equally insane friend of his, Mr. Wilde, who is the repairer of reputations (Repairer, II). If Hastur is some sort of rival to the King in Yellow, and if the King in Yellow does not rightfully rule Carcosa, then Hastur might also be a descendant of one of Carcosa's ancient dynasties or imperial families: "He mentioned the establishment of the Dynasty in Carcosa... the King in Yellow must hide Yhtill forever... the Imperial family, to Uoht and Thale, from Naotalba and Phantom of Truth, to Aldones, and then... he began the wonderful story of the Last King" (Repairer, III). He will later refer to himself as "the son of Hastur" and then call himself "Hildred-Rex (Repairer, III). When he reaches the pinnacle of his madness, Mr. Castaigne says: "At last I was King, King by my right in Hastur, King because I knew the mystery of the Hyades" (Repairer, III). It is this last example in which Hastur might be viewed as a city (given the use of the preposition in), possibly a rival city that opposes the King in Yellow. Though doubtful, I have speculated to myself that Hastur could be the name of the planet that Carcosa resides upon: "...the lakes which connected Hastur, Aldebaran and the mystery of the Hyades" (Repairer, III) — Aldebaran being a star, the Hyades being a star cluster, and the "lakes" being the space between those stars, perhaps Hastur is a planet orbiting two of these stars (remember there are "twin suns" which sink into the Lake of Hali). Hastur could also very easily be the name of a person, a city, and planet simultaneous (I'm certain there is at least one person named Charles lives in Charleston; or the fact there exists simultaneously the goddess Athena, Athens in Greece, and Athens in Georgia). All of this is my own conjecture and interpretation; certainly Hastur is one of the more vague names given in The King in Yellow.

The Lake of Hali is simply a lake which Carcosa resides next to. There is not much more to it than that. It appears from previous descriptions cited in the portion on Carcosa that the twin suns that set over the Lake of Hali are seen from the shores next to Carcosa. I imagine the Lake of Hali experiences typical whether patterns we experience on Earth, as it is mentioned as being still and calm in part III of The Mask ("...I saw the Lake of Hali, thin and blank, without a ripple or wind to stir it..."), and as windy in The Court of the Dragon ("...the wet winds from the Lake of Hali chilled my face."), and a bit more dramatic in part III of The Yellow Sign ("...the cloud waves roll and break on the shores of Hali." — similar to the preface poem). It's pretty straight forward. The name Hali is another name borrowed from Bierce's An Inhabitant of Carcosa; Hali being a fictitious author, an excerpt of whose work is given in the preface, and whom the protagonist comes to contemplate.

The Hyades are cluster of stars in the constellation of Taurus. They are the nearest cluster of stars to Earth, as are they one of the most easiest cluster of stars to view with the naked eye. There is another nearby cluster of stars called the Pleiades, which are mythologically related to the Hyades. In Greek mythology the Hyades are sisters whose number varies; they are rain nymphs, and are the children of Atlas and Pleione (or Aethra). Atlas had seven daughters (also nymphs) with Pleione; they are represented as the other nearby star cluster, the Pleiades. Chambers makes several mentions of the Hyades in The Repairer of Reputations, The Mask, and The Yellow Sign. It seems that the planet Carcosa resides upon orbits a set of binary suns either in the Hyades or in close proximity to them. It is possible that the Hyades are the "dark stars" regularly mentioned hanging over Carcosa. There are two mentions of what is called the mystery of the Hyades in part III of The Repairer of Reputations and part III of The Yellow Sign; exactly what is the mystery of the Hyades is rather vague and mysterious in its own right. Exactly why Chambers uses the Hyades in The King in Yellow is a bit of mystery: perhaps he liked the star cluster as I like the Pleiades (they are my favorite constellation); perhaps he liked the name. There could be an astrological significance — when the sun rises in the constellation of Taurus (April) it is spring time, a time of renewal and birth, but this esoteric association would be irrelevant to one lives on a planet that resides amongst the Hyades themselves — but this too is extraordinarily speculative.

Aldebaran is a red giant star in the constellation of Taurus, and appears to be amongst the Hyades, but is actually not apart of that star cluster. The name Aldebaran comes from the Arabic, Al-Dabarān, meaning "the follower" (i.e. follower of the Pleiades — perhaps because it appears to follow the Pleiades across the night sky as the Earth revolves). Chambers makes several mentions of Aldebaran in The Repairer of Reputations, The Mask, and The Yellow Sign. It is possible the planet Carcosa resides upon orbits Aldebaran, but this is doubtful given that the planet has twin suns, and Aldebaran does not have another star in its orbit. Exactly why Chambers uses Aldebaran is as mysterious as his use of the Hyades; if the planet is in the Hyades, then Aldebaran would not hold a prominent position in the sky, as it would be significantly dimmer than it is to us on Earth (Aldebaran is about 65 light years from earth and about 90 light years from the Hyades; and as to whether or not Chambers knew this, or even cared for that matter, is unknown). It is possible that, like the Hyades, he might have just liked that star and its name.

There are, of course, other names and terms Chambers uses in The King in Yellow that are vague and mysterious; so much so that it is difficult to know what to make of them. There are two female characters in the play The King in Yellow, Cassilda and Camilla, but very little is known about them: Cassilda has a song, which is given in the preface poem; Camilla screams in the streets of Carcosa (Repairer, III); Cassilda pleads with the King in Yellow (Mask, III)... that's about it for those two. Part III of The Repairer of Reputations gives a number of names that appear to be imperial families (e.g. Uoht, Thale, Naotalba, Aldones), as well as a few others that are too vague to comment in any depth: Demhe, which appears to be some sort abyss or lake ("...sounded the cloudy depths of Demhe..." — compare to "...sounded the depths of the Lake of Hali."); Yhtill, which is possibly a place of exile or banishment ("...the King in Yellow must hide Yhtill forever..."; the Phantom of Truth, which is mentioned with the imperial families, but who or what it is is too vague. Then there is Alar, which is mentioned in part III of The Mask with Aldebaran, the Hyades, and Hastur, but as to what is Alar is indecipherable.

In short, the King in Yellow, who wears the Pallid Mask and bears the Yellow Sign, rules in a city called Carcosa, which is on the shores of the Lake of Hali. The King in Yellow has an enemy named Hastur, who is either a person or a city or both. Carcosa and and the Lake of Hali reside on a planet that orbits a binary star system in the star cluster in the Hyades, or possibly, though less likely, the red giant Aldebaran.

That about sums up the mysterious names and terms in The King in Yellow.

Further Reading:

Bierce, Ambrose. Can Such Things Be? 1886.

Chambers, Robert W. The King in Yellow. 1895.