I hardly know where to start.

The inscription is nonsensical.

The book is one of the most decadent and confusing I’ve ever read.

And the artwork is enough to make chills go down your spine.

How did this volume earn shelf space in my collection? This is a question I can answer: it was a combination of a weak moment blended with a curiosity about things I didn’t understand that drove me to buy it.

Maybe you, dear reader, can help me sort it out.

The Inscription

Let’s start with the inexplicable and work our way around to the just weird. Which means starting with the inscription.

Here’s how I transcribe it:

Richard Herczel
with the author’s high regard—
expressed by
Vincent Starrett
and
Ray Latimer
21 April, 1927
”Honi soit qui mal y pense”

And now, an explication:

Richard Herczel

It’s not certain, but Richard Herczel could be Richard E. Herczel, an investment banker who lived in Chicago. I can’t find any mention of Herczel in Starrett’s records, but that’s not surprising. He inscribed many books to many, many people. Apparently, he also inscribed books by other writers, which brings us to—

with the author’s high regard—

This is odd. Very odd.

Starrett is certainly “an author,” but he is not “the author” of this book. That would be Hanns Heinz Ewers, and we’ll have more to say about him in a bit. So the question is, why is Starrett signing a book he didn’t write, as “the author”?

expressed by
Vincent Starrett
and
Ray Latimer
21 April, 1927

This is most unusual. Starrett and Rachel Latimer were clearly together as a couple at this point, even though he was still married, but living separately from, his first wife, Lillian Hartsig.

FWIW, I think that’s Ray’s signature. The Greek E’s that always indicated a Starrett signature are missing in “Latimer.”

The date would place this at a time when Starrett had left daily newspaper reporting and was writing short stories, poems and other articles to make a living. And that leads us to—

”Honi soit qui mal y pense“

Translated most frequently as “Shamed be (the person) who thinks evil of it,” the phrase pops up often in Europe and is the motto of the Order of the Garter.

According to an article by Camille Chevalier-Karfis, (which I read on the internet, so it must be true) the phrase can be found “on Britain’s royal coat of arms, on the cover of British passports, in British courtrooms and elsewhere of note.”

There are several stories of how Edward III in the 14th century came to create the Order of the Garter and adopt that phrase. My favorite also comes from Ms. Cevalier-Karfis, thus:

King Edward III was dancing with Joan of Kent, his first cousin and daughter-in-law. Her garter slipped down to her ankle, causing people nearby to mock her.

In an act of chivalry, Edward placed the garter around his own leg saying, in Middle French, "Honi soit qui mal y pense. Tel qui s'en rit aujourd'hui, s'honorera de la porter, car ce ruban sera mis en tel honneur que les railleurs le chercheront avec empressement" ("Shame on him who thinks evil of it. Those who laugh at this today will be proud to wear it tomorrow because this band will be worn with such honor that those mocking now will be looking for it with much eagerness"). 

In other words, a little 14th century crossdressing never hurt anyone.

Why did Starrett think the phrase was appropriate here? It’s likely a comment on the book itself.

The Story

In this reworking of the Goethe poem of the same name, the protagonist is Frank Braun, a writer, a philosopher and nihilist. He comes to a small village tucked into the mountains of Italy to write, but soon becomes fascinated by the locals. All of the natives have been taken in thrall by an American preacher and his evangelical style. The natives have given over their Catholic faith to the American.

Braun is both intrigued and repulsed. Incapable of feeling anything like love or sympathy in the human condition, Braun rapes his landlord’s daughter, then begins mesmerizing her. He is called into the home of local woman who is dying and, with just some commonsense advice, soon has the village believing he is a great healer. Even the American preacher is in awe of this captivating man.

The less Braun cares about others around him, the more they become enamored of him and begin to idolize him. In their eyes, Braun can do no wrong, and when he convinces the landlord’s daughter, now his mistress, that she is the center of a religious conversion that can save the souls of her fellow villagers, she willingly makes herself a sacrificial lamb, undergoing a crucifixion like that of Jesus.

Braun watches emotionless as the villagers become willing slaves to his sadistic imaginings, then abandons them to lives of guilt over their actions. Braun, as a superior being, feels no such guilt. He is only intrigued by the weakness of other humans.

And that’s just the highlights.

Thinking Evil

This is a very hard book to get through. I’m not sure what it’s like in the original German, but this translation leaves an uneven story behind. Of course, all this skepticism on my part might just be me. I am far from the “superior” man Ewers believed himself, and Braun, to be.

Hans Heinz Ewers was a fan of the German philosopher Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche. Braun is Ewers’ evocation of Nietzsche’s Übermensch or Overman, an extraordinary being whose cruelty or heartlessness can be excused because of his superior nature. It’s easy to see why the concept was so enticing to Adolph Hitler.

Frankly, I found the book’s plot horrifying, and at the same time lacking in skill or story-telling art. Here’s an example:

“Long he remained so and spoke no word and did not move. But the flame burned in his eyes, and it seemed as though it burned deep into his breast. His cheeks grew pale and thin and the girl fancied that she could see the hard bones through the skin. But the rose dropped from his teeth and fell down like a great drop of blood. Fearfully she looked away and hid her head upon his knees.”

I had to flip back and figure out where that rose came from.

The dialogue is equally bewildering. Here’s the landlord’s daughter talking to her Catholic priest confessor about something Frank Braun (Ewers never just calls him Braun) has said.

“He said softly, ‘You may torture. But not needlessly. To torture is well. It is an art—perhaps the greatest of all. But men are like beasts of the field: they torture without knowing it.’ Thus he spoke.”

A real fun guy that Frank Braun.

Events happen, sometimes without any clear reason or buildup, and whole sections seem to be tacked in.

Take Braun’s endless recounting of the only creature he could ever love, his childhood dog, whom he loved because the pet recognized his Master’s superiority early on and loved Braun unconditionally. This is blended, in Braun’s brain, with the rejection of his first love. His conclusion is that people are always betraying him, while wild animals are his friends. Therefore, whatever he does to humans is okay, so long as he treats animals with care.

As I said, it’s possible the translation from German to English does the narrative no favors. I have also read that this translation is expurgated, and for all its lurid details, left out many other elements Ewers felt necessary to the story. I shudder to think what was left out.

And while I might not like it, Ewers clearly had a following, bringing Braun back for two more novels that involved a Frankenstein-like soulless woman in one, and his own conversion to vampirism in another.

Going back to Starrett’s use of ”Honi soit qui mal y pense,” I guess I should be ashamed for thinking that this book celebrates evil, but there you are.

From the biography published in this edition, I see that Ewers wrote an essay on Poe that has been translated into English and published in the country. It might be interesting to hunt it down and see what he has to say about the American writer.

Then again, I think I’ll stick with sorting through this mystery.

The Artist

I want to say a few words about the incredible work of Mahlon Blaine, whose striking illustrations are faithful to the spirit of the story.

Take a moment to look at the incredible detail in the illustration presented here, which serves as the book’s frontispiece. It’s a passionate evocation of one of the book’s climaxes and is every bit the equal of the narrative. (If you click on the image you should get a larger version.)

Blaine’s illustrations showed up just about everywhere 100 years ago, from erotica to children’s books. He even created simple line drawings to go with Dunninger's Magic Tricks, a book devoted to slight of hand of Joseph Dunninger, one of America’s great magicians of the mid-20th century.

Almost every image he includes for The Sorcerer’s Apprentice is a grotesque, with the men, women and devils all sporting elongated arms and legs, disproportionate noses, ears and eyes, and torsos often twisted in a kind of agony. No one looks healthy except for Braun.

Blaine has even drawn a league of lounging devils for the end of each chapter, and an illustrated letter to start the next, each letter sporting a leering demon.

He was clearly a talented artist, whose skills matched well with the perverse nature of Ewer’s vision.

Just don’t spend too many hours looking at his work before heading to bed. Blaine will haunt you.

Which leads me back to the beginning, still trying to puzzle out why Starrett and Ray Latimer inscribed a book neither had anything to do with. My best guess, and I admit it is only a guess, is that it was a kind of joke, with Starrett claiming to be “the author” and challenging Herczel to read the book and appreciate the challenging vision Ewers offers, without thinking “evil of it” or perhaps them.

The fact is, we’ll probably never know. Some mysteries can’t be solved.