Montgomery Lowell

The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.
—H.P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu”

Dr. Montgomery St. John Lowell (Naturalist)

Statistics
Age: 45, Nationality: British, Birthplace: London 1799.

Combat

Skills
Accounting 20%, Anthropology 35%, Appraise 50%, Archeology 35%, Art/Craft (Cello) 50%, Art/Craft (Chess) 55%, Artillery 1%, Charm 15%, Climb 20%, Credit Rating 60%, Cthulhu Mythos 7%, Demolitions 1%, Disguise 5%, Fast Talk 5%, First Aid 65%, History 35%, Hypnosis 1%, Intimidate 15%, Jump 20%, Law 15%, Leadership 5%, Library Use 70%, Listen 65%, Locksmith 1%, Mechanical Repair 10%, Medicine 70%, Natural World 70%, Navigate 40%, Occult 5%, Operate Heavy Machinery 5%, Persuade 20%, Pilot (Boat) 5%, Psychology 15%, Read Lips 1%, Religion (Anglican) 20%, Renown 35%, Ride 60%, Science (Astronomy) 40%, Science (Biology) 75%, Science (Botany) 55%, Science (Chemistry) 50%, Science (Geology) 30%, Science (Meteorology) 20%, Science (Paleontology) 35%, Science (Pharmacy) 35%, Science (Physics) 20%, Seamanship 20%, Sea Lore 20%, Sleight of Hand 10%, Spot Hidden 50%, Stealth 25%, Survival 50%, Swim 20%, Throw 20%, Track 10%, Whalecraft 15%.

Languages: French 70%, Latin 55%, German 45%, Spanish 25%, Greek 20%, Arabic 10%.

Description

Tall and aristocratic, you have a distinguished appearance and a vaguely distracted, aloof manner. Peering from beneath a pair of arching eyebrows, your intense eyes reveal your every emotion, whether flashing with anger or wide with fear. Since your incident in the Galápagos, you have developed a slight tic in your left eye when under stress. A faint scar mars your cheek, a remnant from your academic dueling days in Germany. Your hair is slightly unkempt, and you favor sideburns. Whenever possible, you dress in English formalwear, and carry a slender cane that conceals a sharpened blade. You are passionate about opera, and you play the cello rather well; music is your one form of social recreation.

History
You were born into an old family with three qualities in abundant supply—intelligence, eccentricity, and wealth. Encouraged to follow whatever pursuits enticed your imagination, you found yourself irrevocably drawn to the sea and her denizens. Though you realized this was your true love, you didn’t see any real future in it, so you decided to become a physician. After three years studying medicine at Ingolstadt, you were drawn to the origin of physical structures and the biological similarities between species, and you began following the work of Erasmus Darwin, Jean-Baptiste Lamarck, and Georges Cuvier.

Natural Philosophy
Deciding to quit medicine for the broader field of developmental natural history, you relocated to Paris, and began pursuing your newfound muse with characteristic brilliance and vigor. By the age of 24, you made something of a name for yourself, publishing an iconoclastic book on marine life entitled Towards A Greater Understanding of Marine Development. The first public presentation of your unusual theories of species development, the work followed the “catastrophism” school of belief, but tempered it with Lamarckian views on species evolution. In 1825 you published a series of corrections and clarifications on Lamarck’s invertebrate classifications; and in 1826 you circulated a shrewd treatise on Cuvier’s ideas on species extinction and pre-human “revolutions,” his name for the ancient catastrophes which influenced planetary development. Both works drew heavily on your marine research, and they garnered an interesting mixture of praise and scorn. By the age of 26 you earned your doctorate, and it was not without some controversy that you were awarded a position at Cambridge.

At Cambridge, you became an associate of John Stevens Henslow and Adam Sedgwick. You voraciously devoured the natural sciences, becoming entranced with fossils while working with Sedgewick. You are proud to say you even discovered a new plesiosaur, Thalassiodracon luveli, or Lowell’s Sea Dragon! To your future dismay, you revealed many of your formulating theories to a young student named Charles Darwin, who would later borrow some of your ideas without giving you credit.

In 1829 you realized that to continue your research, you would have to venture deeper into that great ocean laboratory. Using your money and academic clout, you secured a passage on the Atlantis, an English whaling vessel—the perfect place to make observations on the great Leviathan, a beast you were convinced was more mammal than fish, a treasure-chest containing just as much biological wealth as commercial prosperity.

But it was not to be. Ten months into the voyage, a freak squall capsized the Atlantis near Duncan Island in the Galápagos. Shipwrecked, you and your surviving crewmates began exploring the islands, amazed at the abundance of life, taking notes as you waited for rescue.

Your next memory was waking in a convent hospital in Ecuador.

The Lacuna
You were found on Albemarle Island, the only surviving member of the Atlantis. Nine months had passed since the shipwreck; but no matter how hard you tried, you could only recollect the first few weeks. According to the captain of the Nantucket whaler Rachel, they found you “living in a cave like a savage; a bearded madman surrounded by drawings and incomprehensible scribbles.” No other bodies were found. The officers confined you to a bunk and nursed you back to health, putting you ashore at Salinas.

Returning to England, you tried to pick up the pieces of your career, but you felt like a ghost haunting your former life. First of all, everyone had believed you were dead; and you were surprised at how strangely they now looked upon you—the only survivor of a lost ship, with no memories of how you survived. But more importantly, your health and sanity were under tremendous strain. Since regaining consciousness, you began suffering from terrible headaches, always preceded by an aura that expanded until your visual field was raw chaos—and then your head split open with blinding white pain. And after these incidents—once or twice a month!—you would be wracked with nightmares with grand, apocalyptic themes: the fall of Atlantis, continents heaving themselves into the sea, monsters rising from the waves, the world burning with green fire…

Your physician thought you were “suppressing” memories of the shipwreck. Unable to remain hidden, they manifested in your dreams, disguised as nightmare visions. After all, the very name of your capsized ship licensed your imagination to invent all manner of curious fancies. But you knew the truth was far stranger. Something else was behind these visions; something happened to you on that island. Indeed, you discovered that you had somehow learned astronomy during those missing nine months! Of course, it was possible that you’d merely studied the captain’s charts and navigation books; but underlying this—there seems to be no other word than “human”—but underlying this human understanding of the cosmos, a deeper, older system of reckoning seemed to be lurking, something older than Babylonian astrology. Revelations trembled at the edge of your perception, haunting your headaches and dreams; flashes of a secret world, a realm of expanding universes, sub-atomic particles, and grinding tectonic masses…

Your career began to suffer from your illness and its attendant eccentricities; and your renewed level of obsession with unorthodox theories didn’t exactly calm the fears of the Cambridge dons. Inspired by your visions, you started working on a new book, and in 1835 you published On a New Theory of Pelagic Revolution and Terrestrial Development. An extremely radical work, it used your previous theories of species development as a foundation to boldly construct a natural history of the entire planet. Here were speculations on the history of the Earth before the so-called Flood, refutations of the Bible lacking the customary hesitant apologies, and detailed theories on the evolution of prehistoric lizards, whales, fishes, insects, and humanity itself. It was here that you introduced your theory of “discrete influencing fluid,” a form of “organic molecule” that transmitted physical—and perhaps even spiritual—characteristics from one generation to the next.

The book was not well-received. Michael Faraday condemned it as “the faithless work of a philosophical mountebank,” while Philosophical Transactions called it a “prolix farrago of crack-pot ideas and baseless conjectures.” More than a few colleagues wondered if you hadn’t lost your mind during your time as a castaway. But you continued undaunted, and two years later you gave a series of lectures on the possibility of intelligent, non-human life “Before the Flood,” lectures that darkly suggested humanity might be a short-lived and recent phenomenon; perhaps even shepherded through subtle pressures on discrete influence fluids. You were publicly ridiculed, and you resigned from Cambridge amidst overwhelming controversy. But you were not without prospects; Brichester, Candlebrow, and Miskatonic offered you tenable positions. Desiring to escape England but unwilling to relocate to Missouri, you moved to Arkham in 1836.

It was an excellent decision! You have felt completely rejuvenated by the relative open-mindedness of Miskatonic University, and with access to their incredible library, you published several more decidedly esoteric papers. But despite your increased activities, the dreams and headaches have continued—in fact, they’ve recently doubled in intensity, exerting a diabolical magnetism that persistently draws your thoughts to the sea. You are now convinced that the origins of human life are to be found in the ocean; and in some way you cannot fully explain, whales are the biological key to unlocking this mystery. So, you have made a decision. Once again you will plunge into the heart of the sea, and your keen mind will harpoon the secrets of Leviathan himself.

Dr. Lowell and the Quiddity
You have convinced the University to fund your latest maritime excursion, and they have arranged to place you onboard a Kingsport whaling ship named the Quiddity. It was not easy—you had to bolster their $750 grant with $750 of your own capital—but you promised the University a “revolutionary” new book, and agreed to a series of public lectures upon your return. Your plan is to remain with the Quiddity until Maui, then return to New England on a Kingsport merchantman. You expect to be home by the end of next year; early spring of 1846 at the latest.

Postscript: The Talbot Letter
On the eve of your departure you received an intriguing letter. Sent by a physician at Kingsport’s Mercy Hospital, the letter relates the story of an injured mariner and raises the possibility of a new form of marine life. Although this Dr. Talbot was a bit too obsequious for your taste, it could be an interesting diversion.

Roleplaying Dr. Lowell

You are brilliant but neurotic, arrogant but terrified of failure, wealthy but disdaining luxury and dissipation. You are unquestionably a genius—if you wouldn’t have been set back in the Galápagos, you’d be as well-regarded as Adam Sedgwick, Baron Cuvier, or that upstart minister, Charles Darwin. You are driven by a quest for the truth, which you’ve only begun to glimpse in your blinding headaches, your dreams, and your nightmares: man is nothing, a mere monkey, the temporary steward of a planet encrusted by an ancient past. You believe there were other races before man, beings which may have impacted our development. The answer must lie in the sea; in the fossil record, in the evolution of her briny creatures, from the most loathsome mollusk to the awe-inspiring whale.

Forming Relationships
A sailing ship is like any other social institution, from a university to a drawing room—it has its customs, hierarchies, and codes. In order to accomplish your work, you must thrive within this system, so it’s important you respect the chain of command and not become an inconvenience. On a superficial level, you treat every man with an equal amount of dignity, whether experienced officer or bumbling greenhorn. While some may ascribe this egalitarian approach to Christian charity or personal humility, nothing could be farther from the truth! In your heart of hearts, you consider everyone your inferior, and see little difference between the captain and his crew. They may be competent in varying degrees; but they’re all just sailors. When push comes to shove, this arrogance is likely to surface, and may cause some friction. But then again, you’re on a mission far loftier than the mere acquisition of oil, and certainly everyone must recognize that!

You are not a man who makes friendships easily, but you enjoy a good conversation. You only require an interlocutor to maintain an open mind. You find it hard to hide your disdain for the ignorant, especially if they are willfully so, a quality you disdain whether exhibited by a common labourer or an Oxford don. You are not looking to make friends on this expedition, but if some of the player characters prove worthy, there’s no harm in discussing natural philosophy, opera, or perhaps indulging in a game of chess.

Public Goals
You are here to observe everything you can about whales, the sea, her creatures, and the people who populate her archipelagoes and islands. You are convinced that a pre-human civilization once flourished in the Pacific, and you feel that a vigorous examination of fossils and living biology may uncover clues about the earth’s distant past. While not quite a “mad scientist,” you will risk life, health, and sanity in your pursuit of your own “white whale.”

Private Goals
You are haunted by the missing nine months you privately refer to as the Lacuna. You are driven—yet terrified—to discover what actually happened to you on the Galápagos. Occasionally, during the very worst headaches, you get…flashes of things, horrible scenes of madness and cannibalism, flooded caverns, and unutterable shapes lurking beneath the waves. You know that one day you’ll have to face this inner void, and like opening Pandora’s Box, you don’t know what horrors might be unleashed. You are intensely curious about the “scribbles” they found in your Albemarle cave. You can’t shake the feeling that during the Lacuna, you understood something now lost to you forever. Or—is it? Many Pacific whalers visit the Galápagos for supplies. Surely you knew that when you signed on, yes—?

Cthulhu Mythos
You have an innate understanding of the cosmic perspectives and geological time-frames common to the Mythos, but little practical knowledge of the deities and legends that populate its milieu. Your tenure at Miskatonic University has given you a scattered acquaintance with all varieties of myths, names, and stories; but this knowledge is generic and unfocused. As such, you may benefit from occasional fragments of knowledge ranging across the whole Mythos, from Azathoth to Zoth-Ommog. Of course, this may change as the Keeper sees fit to grant you more illuminating glimpses into the Lacuna…

Possessions
You begin the scenario with $150 worth of banknotes in a money belt and $450 left in your checking account. You have brought two trunks onto the Quiddity. Your wardrobe trunk contains a well-tailored suit, three sets of “expedition clothes,” a spare pair of boots, oilskin rain gear, a pair of caoutchouc over-shoes, an umbrella, ample writing supplies, and two small cages. One of your hatboxes contains a Sea Service flintlock pistol. Though you aren’t much of a shot, it brings you a certain amount of comfort, and there are times you sleep with it under your pillow for no reason you can articulate.

Your second trunk contains a medical bag, a case of scientific instruments, and several satchels of books. These are detailed below:

Medical Bag
Along with the usual supplies, your medical bag includes three vials of morphine, a bottle of paregoric, a bottle of chloroform, smelling salts, a copious supply of headache powder, and an experimental new chemical called “ether,” placed in a special glass globe and inhaled by patients to dull their senses and induce a kind of insensate daze. What will they think of next?

Scientific Tools
Your scientific toolcase is made from teakwood and brass. It includes a collection of scalpels, forceps, and dissection needles, a microscope and several magnifying lenses, three thermometers and a barometer, star-charts for both hemispheres, and a rudimentary chemistry kit for detecting various compounds in water.

Books
You’ve packed nearly two dozen books, and you consider them your most important possessions. They include three volumes of Aristotle, Marcus Antonius von Plenciz’s Opera medico-physica (1762), Erasmus Darwin’s Zoonomia, or, The Laws of Organic Life (1796), Jean-Baptiste Lamarck’s Philosophie zoologique (1809) and both volumes of Histoire naturelle des Animaux sans vertèbres (1815, 1822), Georges Cuvier’s Recherches sur les ossemens fossiles des quadrupèdes (1812), Robert Kerr’s translation of Cuvier’s introduction, retitled Discourse on the Revolutionary Upheavals on the Surface of the Earth, and Thomas Hawkins’ charmingly illustrated Memoirs of Ichthyosauri and Plesiosauri (1834) and Book of the Great Sea-Dragons (1840). Seven additional books deal specifically with whales: Robert Sibbald’s Phalainologia Nova; Sine Observationes de Raribus quibuscum Balaenis in Scotia Littus Nuper Ejectis (1692), Captain Colnett’s A Voyage round Cape Horn into the South Seas, for the purpose of extending the Spermaceti Whale Fisheries (1798), Oliver Goldsmith’s Animated Nature (1807), Count de Lacépède’s Histoire Naturelle des Cetacees (1825), William Scoresby’s An Account of the Arctic Regions, Frederick Cuvier’s Natural History of Whales (1836), and Thomas Beale’s recent study, based on his experiences on a whaleship: The Natural History of the Sperm Whale (1839). You’ve also brought your own magnum opus, On a New Theory of Pelagic Revolution and Terrestrial Development, and one of your colleague’s works, William Warren’s Mephitic Miasmas and Microscopic Animalcules.

Notes & Inspirations for Montgomery Lowell

Knowledgeable readers may find Professor Lowells scattered throughout Lovecraftian fiction; but especially inspiring are the scientists from At the Mountains of Madness. Another source of inspiration was the character Edward “Leviathan” Mallory from The Difference Engine. Written by William Gibson and Bruce Sterling, this brilliant novel is considered one of the forerunners of steampunk. Players may want to brush up on the early days of evolutionary thought, vis-à-vis Erasmus Darwin, Lamarck, Cuvier, and Sedgwick. Lowell is essentially a catastrophist, which means he believes that the earth’s history is guided by great upheavals, such as the Biblical Flood and the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs. But he also believes in evolution, though his ideas are guided by Mythos currents. As Lowell is fascinated by whales, a perusal of Moby-Dick Chapters 55 and 56 may be instructive, and is the source for many of the scientific books listed above. The degree of Lowell’s belief in a Christian God is left up to the player.

If White Leviathan were a movie, Dr. Lowell could only be played by Sam Neill, who inspired the character just as much as Lovecraft, from John Trent’s symbol-covered room in In the Mouth of Madness to Alan Grant’s discovery of clever dinosaurs in Jurassic Park. And of course, William Weir from Event Horizon can always be trusted to open the Gate! Other relevant Sam Neil performances include Possession, Omen III: The Final Conflict, and The Piano.

Changing Lowell’s Gender and Ethnicity
Montgomery Lowell is the only player character who may be re-gendered without complete anachronism. Of course, with a few notable exceptions such as the University of Bologna, the mid-nineteenth century did not permit female academics. But because Miskatonic University is fictional, perhaps it’s adopted more progressive policies! More likely, “Meredith Lowell” is a wealthy adventuress, self-taught and gradually—and grudgingly?—accepted into the scientific community. The English paleontologist Mary Anning, Nantucket astronomer Maria Mitchell, Scottish scientist Mary Somerville, French marine biologist Jeanne Villepreux-Power, and the Harvard computer Williamina Fleming offer historical examples. Even so, Meredith’s presence onboard the Quiddity will be unwelcome, as sailors dislike a “hen frigate,” and believe women are bad luck. The player character may expect to be subjected to a good deal of sexism and casual misogyny; though to be fair, she’s probably accustomed to such treatment from her fellow scientists. A female Dr. Lowell will be accommodated on deck with a special cabin constructed just for her use. (Although if Rachel Ward is a player, she may expect a roommate!)

Montgomery Lowell may also be portrayed as black, whether of Caribbean or African descent. Although some British and European universities permitted black students, particularly if they had powerful white patrons, this was rare, and black professors didn’t emerge until later in the century. Still, there are always exceptions, and wealth opens many doors! A black Montgomery Lowell might be similar to a female Lowell—a brilliant outsider. His rejection by the scientific community would carry obvious racial overtones as well.

Changing Lowell’s nationality is also feasible. With some tweaking, Lowell may be recast as Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Turkish, etc. The player may research reasonable analogues for Lowell’s European experiences, invent a compelling reason for him to speak English, and find relevant translations for “genius,” “Lacuna,” and “Wait, I did what on the Galápagos?!?”

Special Thanks
Special thanks to Rob Stoll, who played Lowell during my own run-through of White Leviathan. Rob is every Keeper’s dream player: never afraid to open the chained door, read the forbidden book, or touch the slimy, pulsing thing in the goo-covered cocoon. An actual scientist, Rob invested Lowell with a great degree of authenticity, not to mention a sublime arrogance that came from actually reading Darwin. Also thanks to Tim Wise, who played Lowell for the first time during a demo game at NecronomiCon, Providence. An actual Brit, Tim was instrumental in defining Lowell’s personality, and the only player to ever say “St. John” the right bloody way.

Opening Moves

Materials
Lowell begins the game with three handouts: “Period & Setting 1844-1846,” “Main Glossary,” and “Letter from Talbot to Lowell.” At the Keeper’s discretion, the player may be provided with additional material about sailing ships, whaling, and nautical customs.

Starting Position
At 9:00 am Sunday Morning, October 27, Lowell boards the coach to Kingsport. The coach is scheduled to arrive at South Hill Station at 10:00 am.

Adventure Hooks
The following scenarios provide engaging ways for Lowell to begin the adventure in Kingsport. Some represent obligations, while others are optional. The player may wish to discuss them with the Keeper before gameplay begins. 

Secure Lodgings at the Kingsport Hotel
You need somewhere to stay in Kingsport. Although you could afford the luxurious Hotel Poseidon, you’d prefer something closer to the docks; just to minimize complications. You have arranged for a room at the Kingsport Hotel, by reputation a modest and clean boarding house on the respectable end of Harborside.

Call On Dr. Talbot
You are certain the good surgeon—sorry, physician—has misunderstood your theories; but nevertheless, the case he describes sounds fascinating. You should call on Dr. Talbot at Mercy Hospital and examine this “foreign object.” Perhaps it is indeed a new species? In any case, Mercy Hospital is funded by Miskatonic University’s new College of Medicine, and is operated by your colleague Dr. William Warren. The man has sound ideas on animalcules, and has publicly supported your theory of discrete influencing fluids. Even though Warren is currently attending a conference in Philadelphia, you should pay your professional respects at the hospital. Maybe you can even donate one of your books to their medical library?

Interview with Sleet, Baker & Blood
You have an appointment scheduled at 2:00 pm on October 28 with one Captain Gideon Sleet, an agent for Sleet, Baker & Blood. The firm that owns the Quiddity, their office is located at 106 Hawthorne Street. The meeting should be merely a formality. You will present the University’s $1500 cheque to the agent, and he will confirm the agreed-upon arrangements. You will serve the Quiddity as physician when required, but are exempt from all other duties. In return, you are guaranteed reasonable accommodations and will “mess” with the officers. You’ve also been promised use of the captain’s cabin for a minimum of two hours each day—at the captain’s discretion, of course!

Examine the Quiddity
You should look over this Quiddity—after all, it’s your home for the next year or so. You’ll have to stow your gear, meet the officers, and likely attend some sort of tedious dinner making small-talk with Quakers.

White Leviathan > Player Character Profiles
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Author: A. Buell Ruch
Last Modified: 22 July 2023
Email: quail (at) shipwrecklibrary (dot) com
White Leviathan PDF: [TBD]