THE DEEP ONES: "Let Loose" by Mary Cholmondeley

"Let Loose" by Mary Cholmondeley

Discussion begins April 7, 2021.

First published in the April 1890 issue of Temple Bar.



ONLINE VERSIONS

http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks06/0605331h.html
http://www.lesvampires.org/letloose.html

BIBLIOGRAPHY

http://www.isfdb.org/cgi-bin/title.cgi?84619

SELECTED PRINT VERSIONS

Victorian Ghost Stories by Eminent Women Writers
Meddling with Ghosts: Stories in the Tradition of M. R. James
Women's Weird: Strange Stories by Women, 1890-1940
The Vampire Archives: The Most Complete Volume of Vampire Tales Ever Published

MISCELLANY

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Cholmondeley
https://victorianfictionresearchguides.org/mary-cholmondeley/
https://tinyurl.com/4s62hd9m

Read this in Women's Weird: Strange Stories by Women, 1890-1940 a couple of weeks ago.

Self-amputation, piles of skulls in the family crypt, crushing the dog's head against the iron rail... this must have been pretty heady stuff for 1890. Not too far off from some of the earlier gothic novels like The Monk, maybe, but for the audience of a magazine like Temple Bar it must have been pretty wild. The fate of the faithful dog is pretty hard to read even now.

In Women's Weird: Strange Stories by Women, 1890-1940. editor Melissa Edmundson notes that this story "predates M.R. James's stories of haunted churches and crypts, so that it could legitimately be said that James's tales were in the style of Mary Cholmondeley". I can see that, particularly if you compare this with the likes of "The Treasure of Abbot Thomas".

Didn't the Deep Ones read at least one other disembodied hand story at some point? I'm also reminded of Robert Florey's great 1946 film THE BEAST WITH FIVE FINGERS.

>3 gwendetenebre:

We read Guy de Maupassant's "The Hand" last year, where the titular appendage is similarly disembodiedly murderous (or so it's implied).

Actually, I had a certain sinking feeling when the undead hand turned up, feeling I've seen the conceit one too many times. This might not be entirely fair, though, as I can't list too many other instances, and this story probably predates most (although not de Maupassant's).

Not liking dogs, the cruel fate of the loyal dog didn't much affect me, but I imagine it could be upsetting indeed to dog people.

I liked the old clergyman and his scholarly pretensions. Well, I'd probably find him obnoxious if I ran into him, but I liked reading about him.

This is, BTW, yet another 19C story with nested narrators. One could be forgiven for starting to suspect it's not so much to achieve some specific effect as because it was the done thing in supernatural tales.

I enjoyed this story without having any particularly strong feelings about it. Pondering on it now I wondered if the protagonist was supposed to be sympathetic or not - at first glance he appears to be an unattractively single minded and unemotional figure, but so is his contemporary, Sherlock Holmes. He's responsible for "letting loose" the cause of several deaths in the village and nearly succumbs himself but notably survives but thrives. He doesn't seem literally or metaphorically haunted, just making sure to cover up his scars.

I think @Andreas gives the answer: the protagonist strangles his dog, and all English people (of course!) love dogs (and that must go double for the Victorians!) so he's the villain of the piece.

Without claiming to be any sort of expert on the 19th Century I think I've read enough from the era to suggest that they wouldn't find this particularly strong stuff. They liked their 'orrible murders and reports of terrible doings in the farthest reaches of the Empire, but they liked it served up with plenty of sentimentality. The main character here is a cold fish; but a child, an old man, and a faithful dog died. Just the sort of deaths the Victorians would enjoy weeping over. I wonder, does the fact the the teller of the tale doesn't indulge in such a display mean that this is (maybe only in part) a spoof of such tales; or is it a structural thing - given he has to be a man with a particular character to get the plot moving, he can't then recount his experiences in a fashion that would be out of character. But then, maybe the reader would be expected to bring their finer sensibilities to the story without prompting from the narrator, supplying th sentiment themselves? This is where my limited knowledge falls short: I can ask the questions but I don't know the answers.

Brian the dog is an example of the "faithful hound" folk-tale motif, of course. I was put in mind of the Welsh tale of Gelert (which apparently is quite a late example, and also has no basis in fact).

>4 AndreasJ:

Maupassant. Of course- thanks!

I'm strictly a cat person myself.

Having Brian the friendly hound's skull brutally and rather vividly bashed in against the iron rail was a good n gruesome surprise shock for me.

>5 housefulofpaper:

You may well be right about general Victorian reading habits, although Wikipedia notes that the founder of Temple Bar magazine claimed it would be "full of solid yet entertaining matter, that shall be interesting to Englishmen and Englishwomen…and that Filia-familias may read with as much gratification as Pater or Mater-familias", appealing to a solid, literate middle-class". I always gathered that the more lurid and ultra-violent penny dreadfuls were designed to appeal (and sell) to the lower classes. Maybe Temple Bar wasn't afraid to take a walk on the wild side with its fiction now and then. Not that I'm claiming this story falls into the penny dreadful category, although parts of it would fit right in.

>7 gwendetenebre:

I've got bound copies of The Strand Magazine from January to June 1893. It's thoroughly middle class and has such exciting features as an interview with The Lord Bishop of Ripon(!) but the stories sort of bear out my suggestion. They include the Sherlock Holmes story The Adventure of the Cardboard Box (that's the one with the severed ears, you may remember) and episodes of Charles J. Mansford's Shafts From an Eastern Quiver which are connected Oriental adventure stories. One of them apparently features a giant man-eating spider. Sad to say, I don't have that story, but I can confirm there's a high body count in the ones I do have.

I liked this story, but mostly for the false trails. The horror isn't really some ancient thing. Despard died only about 30 years ago. It's not a curse from centuries ago but living memory. I also liked the diversions with the clergyman who lives up to the stereotype of many an English clergyman being a frustrated scholar with a sinecure. His whole bit about the unreformed nearby village and the ancientness of the area ultimately have nothing to do with the story.

And, of course, there's a bit on the place of women in contemporary Victorian society. After all, even the architect's wife doesn't like him, but she married him, a man who seems to have no "romantic" sensibilities whatsoever, anyway.

And there's also the whole theme about the devotion an artistic life requires and whether, ultimately, it's worth it.

Just read the wiki article on Cholmondeley. I see Stella Benson was her niece. I can definitely recommend Stella Benson's Living Alone as a unique fantasy touching on Benson's experiences in WWI.

>3 gwendetenebre: Didn't the Deep Ones read at least one other disembodied hand story at some point?
>4 AndreasJ: I can't list too many other instances, and this story probably predates most (although not de Maupassant's).

I also thought it a trope but couldn't come up with any other specifics than The Hands of Orlac, which is later and differs in important details.

>5 housefulofpaper: He doesn't seem literally or metaphorically haunted, just making sure to cover up his scars.

Ah ... I'd inferred that partly the collars were there to provide some protection, though I wondered at how effective this would be. Would these fancy collars be rigid in some way, to help prevent strangulation? Seems doubtful, but I understood the curse should have been broken only when blood was let, and it seems the hand hadn't yet done that.

Two points I wondered about but haven't been able to make anything of specifically. Still, I mention them because they struck me as significant at the time, and stuck with me through to the end of the story, despite coming to nothing.

1- The curious detail that the two doors to the crypt were opened with specific keys: the outer, wooden door with a steel key; and the inner, iron door with an iron key.

2- Despard is the lord of the manor which includes both Wet Waste (Anglican) and Dyke Fens (Catholic), and he is equally abusive of each creed.

Finally, no-one's remarked the humour in the story, which I found great fun without in any way undermining the tone.

" ... the way to the clergyman's house, which I found was close at hand. At Wet Waste everything was close at hand."

"He (the dog) seemed restless, and even the sight of so many bones appeared to exercise no soothing effect upon him."

"All was silent as the grave. This was the grave."

" ... though I trust I am not so effeminate as to be rendered nervous by hearing a noise for which I cannot instantly account; still, on occasions of this kind, I must honestly say I should prefer that they did not occur."

" ... the uncontrolled wailing of the poor mother took my appetite away."

I enjoyed this quite a bit, despite really not having any questions about what was going on. Another example of the pleasure that can be got from a story when told well.