Horrid Mysteries

by Karl Grosse

This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book.

Genres: Gothic, Classics, Fiction, Horror, Mystery, Speculative Fiction, Gothic Romance

First published January 1, 1791

Reviews

[Jennifer deBie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Okay, okay, The Genius won't be "good" for most people. It's late 18th century schlock, for all intents and purposes, and compared to many of the greats of the day, like Austen and Morgan, it's not terribly readable but! and this is a big BUT, if you study 18th/19th century literature and have even a passing knowledge of modern dark fantasy and erotic thrillers there is an argument to be made that Carl Grosse was laying the foundations.

The story rambles a lot, with frequent, seemingly meaningless, divergences that only serve to estrange our protagonist from another friend when either he tries to sleep with said friend's wife, or the friend tries to sleep with protagonist's wife, but there is also a shadowy Cabal orchestrating events, lots of sexual intrigues, and an argument to be made for some aspects of early magical realism all threaded throughout The Genius. Seeing this early prototype of the kinds of genre fiction I gravitate towards today was fascinating. Plus, you know, researchers be reading and whatnot.

Probably not a casual read for the average book lover by any means, but if you're in this very specific space, there's some interesting kernels buried in there.

[Becci · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is a weird one. It begins with and undeath and ends with a murder and nothing much happens in between. I am not even sure what happened at the end.... was Lewis just in love with whoever Carlos was? Was the servant trying to kill him the whole time? What was Lewis reading at the end? Nothing happened for so long and then just done, the end.

[Julian]

*Important note. Do not buy the ReadRead edition of this book (purple and black cover) if you want any clue of what's going on. It's only the third of four volumes (!) and also is an antique type that's distractingly hard to read. I started over with the Valancourt ebook and found the editing much better and then read Vols 1, 2, and 4.*

I was originally drawn to this because it's one of the "horrid novels" listed by Jane Austen in Northanger Abbey.

Having said all that, this is one of the most bizarre books I've ever read. To call the plot convoluted is not enough, rather, it's nonsensical. There are moments that could come out of Eyes Wide Shut or a Lynch film, and then Volume 3 is filled with odd pranks played on noblemen. The narrator's wife Elmira comes back from the dead.... too many times to count really, and I figured she'd show up on the last page (she didn't, but someone else did!)

Nonetheless, it was an enjoyable romp with some gothic touches-- secret societies and conspiracies rather than ghosts and vampires, and devolving into a picaresque style for some longer stretches. Someone ought to just rewrite it and end up with a better-written, more coherent and still very strange gothic book!

[Rosa · Rating 1 out of 5]

How to talk about this novel? Well, it is one of the titles given in a list of "horrid novels" in Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey, and though it's the last novel listed, it's my third read out of the seven given. And if you're saying, "But Rosa, there's no book titled The Genius on that list," that's true. The novel, originally written for a German audience in 1791, was released in England in 1798 under a different title, and the one used in Northanger Abbey is that name: Horrid Mysteries.

Trying to find a way to read this was, as with The Necromancer: A Tale of the Black Forest, a bit of an adventure (and not really worth all the effort it took, to be quite honest, but what can you do?) I found a copy of the book on Hoopla, and, as with The Necromancer, discovered after I started reading it that it was only an extract of the book. Unlike the previous work, however, this one was the entirety of the third volume (of which there are four volumes in total). When I first started reading it, I just thought the story was starting in media res, which would have been confusing for a bit, but would have been an interesting start for a Gothic novel. But when I read a review here on Goodreads, I saw that the particular edition that was offered by Hoopla was only a portion of the story. (I should have realized this because the version of The Necromancer I originally tried to read was from the same publisher and also the only one Hoopla offered in that case.) So then I had to search online for either a free or, barring that, a cheap copy of the novel. Thankfully, after about an hour I discovered that Google books offered all 4 books (released over two volumes) for free. So volumes I, II, and IV are read via Google books, and Volume III was read using Hoopla (though the ReadRead edition Hoopla offers was not corrected for typos brought over from the different type faces, so what were stylized "s" letters in the original manuscript were printed as "f" letters in that rendition and so if you read that one, just know that if something doesn't make sense, you probably need to make a mental correction on the lettering.

As to the work itself, this book is what you get when a man who believes in the power of his own Big D**k Energy is left to write his own memoirs. Now, some of my distaste for the main character has to do with my distaste for the patriarchal trends of the time (the late 18th century), but some of it just that I didn't like this man at all. I can appreciate the "bros before hoes" mentality cos I definitely am a "chicks before dicks" sort of gal, but this man assumes all women who love a man who isn't her husband is morally wrong, but it's not morally wrong for a man to sequester his wife in a cloister so he can go out to another country for a year and make a mistress of another man's wife. And in that situation, the other man's wife was in the wrong, but it was not wrong for the man to seduce said notably married woman.

It may be of the times, but it's patriarchal bullshit and after 400+ pages, I was more than ready to be done with it.

What I did like to ruminate on was why Jane Austen decided to include it on her list because there's not a lot about it that fits in the gothic romance genre. I will point out that there are *some* elements present: Don Carlos's first love Elmira seemingly dies on their wedding trip only to turn again twice later (though one of those women turns out to be an imposter, though it's never explained how or why she turned up); twice there are mysterious rites performed in order to be inducted into "the organization," which Don Carlos spends half of his time following as a devoted member and the rest of the time feeling victimized by them, depending on what the plot needs him to feel at any given time; three times Don Carlos is wandering through the wilderness and happens upon a cottage for sanctuary at just the right moment and all three times receives a hail mary message that saves his life not long after; there are mentions of people wandering around outside with lanterns doing mysterious deeds (which are never explained); Don Carlos's friends force themselves upon Don Carlos's love interests and then the women are always blamed for it in the end (the only difference being that in most Gothic Romance novels the woman accused is our heroine and therefore a paragon of virtue and innocence and the hero is always proved vindicated in his choice of love and that's not the case here.) In truth, most of the true "Gothic Romance" elements are in Volume I, and after that show up only for about ten pages in each volume of II-IV.

But that takes up maybe 60 pages out of 440. The rest of it consists of random discussions about philosophy (which is not without its merits), Don Carlos falling in love with virtually every pretty woman he meets and being universally adored by every village or landowning friend he comes across. Until that inevitable moment when the inamorata or spouse of one said landowning friend declares her love for Don Carlos instead and then said friendship would be on the rocks until said woman would end up dying of some disease or forced into a cloister for her "melancholic temperament." Gosh, I wanted to castrate this man so many times. If I wasn't a raging feminist before, I would be converted now.

But why did Austen include this? That was the fun thought experiment I had while working my way through these never ending 4 volumes. I had two theories. 1) This list is given by Isabella Thorpe, the world's most famous fake friend. It wouldn't surprise me at all if, in order to ingratiate herself into intimacies with Catherine she merely went around the library in Bath and wrote down the names of certain volumes that she then pretended to have read. After all, aside from the fact that all the men in this novel suck, there's nothing much that's truly "horrid" about this novel. The other option was that Austen listed all seven books with particular trends of each in mind. After all, all 3 of the 7 that I've read so far have been certain "forms" of Gothic Romance. The Necromancer focused on spectres and thieves (like a late 18th century Scooby Doo story) and The Orphan of the Rhine was like a hodgepodge of everything a newbie to the genre would expect to read in a Gothic Romance if all they had heard about was general trends -- women abducted away to distant castles and forced into nunneries and corruption within the Church and long sojourns in secret cottages in the wood for moral instruction, and the innocence of women as a virtue to be prized above all else...and of ghosts that turn out, in the end, to not be ghosts.

This form of Gothic Romance is about a man who goes about crying all the time (a lamentable trend among the heroes of the genre) and occasionally finding himself subject to the whims of a somewhat *mystical and all knowing* organization that meets in grottoes and in the woods.

While this particular story (and possibly this trend of Gothic Romance) wasn't at all to my taste, I do look forward to seeing what trends I come across in my next read of the seven, whatever that turns out to be.

[Arnstein · Rating 1 out of 5]

The Gothic that forgot it was a Gothic; or, the man who loved himself so highly that he made himself a Marquis and told the story of how all the ladies adored him.

(Horrid Mysteries is an unfaithful translation of the German novel Der Genius. When Reverend Peter Will translated it, just a year after it was published, he was of the opinion that it needed some revising before it could be presented to an English reader, and revise it he did. He had previously, under the moniker Peter Teuthold, translated Kahlerth/Flammenberg's Der Geistbanner into The Necromancer; or, the Tale of the Black Forest, and was perhaps even more unfaithful to the original there. In consideration of Will/Teuthold's poor literary reproductive performance, any review of Horrid Mysteries should not be considered entirely representative for the German original.)

(This review is based on an edition by Gale NCCO Print Series. It's a photocopy reprint of the original first edition, which means that the text will ideally appear like it did when it was first published over two hundred years ago. There is a certain charm and a feeling of history to reading a book the way it first appeared. Gale's efforts often succeed in this, but the microfilms they use are sometimes flawed, and never have I encountered as many flaws as in this case. Volumes one and four are particularly prone to a loss of legibility. Valancourt's edition seems to be the only good alternative, hence the reader is best advised to seek it out if they wish to read this. Nevertheless, all quotes refer to the pagination of the edition I read, and consequently also of the original.)



The name Horrid Mysteries is indeed a fitting one for an early Gothic novel, especially of the subgenre known as 'explained supernatural' – the general rule here being that if something sounds like a good Scooby-Doo knock-off then it has the right title for it, and that is indeed the case with this book. Most readers (or so this reviewer assumes) approach this book first without any knowledge beyond its name and that it's included amongst the Northanger Horrible Seven. This leaves the reader with two expectations. Something spine-chilling will take place, that much is hinted in the name; and the Northanger Horrible Seven is a list of not entirely brilliant books, so one would assume that this one is no different.

But just as no one expects the Spanish Inquisition, no one expects a book written by (presumably) a member of the Illuminati, which is about how scary the Illuminati are, and about how he's such a charming man that he can roll every lady he wants in the hay. The revelation of what the plot really is about is both horrid and shocking, but not horrid and shocking in the way the reader might have hoped it would be.

This warrants some explanations. First things first: The Illuminati was a secret society in Bavaria that lasted from 1773 to 1787, whose purpose was to oppose monarchs that abused their power. It ended up being short-lived and, ironically, seems to have spent more time knighting its members and giving them curious titles of nobility, than on its purpose. The Marquis von Grosse wasn't a noble by birth and one day just claimed he was one. During his university studies in Göttingen he spent much time with professors who were members of the Illuminati, so it's likely that his title was bestowed upon him by that chapter and that he decided to keep it after the society's demise – or that he was just inspired by them to adopt one for himself.

Making a secret society sound scary would be a curious choice if the author was a part of it, but then he was also a philosopher on the sublime. In this context the sublime is that which is elevated or characterised by a quality of greatness, but it was at the time also theorised that this greatness was in opposition to beauty, just like like darkness is to light. Perhaps the author found that there was some such kind of greatness about this secret society, which consequently also meant that there had to be found an equal amount of darkness in it. This would explain the choice, and also why the self-insert protagonist later decides to join the scary society.

What it doesn't explain is why the story forgets the secret society and instead lets the Marquis of G****** womanise for approximately two-thirds of the novel. He marries and is widowed several times, and in-between he mourns his losses briefly before he tosses his children from the previous marriage to the wayside and starts new romances. Even Adonises can't match his prowess, which he makes sure to point out. The threads of the plot is often forgotten in the manic writing, but the narcissism prevails throughout it. And afterwards, when one of his wives are seduced by a member of the secret society, he concludes thus:

“Thus women are! Thought I. They are flattered by a conquest only as long as it is not entirely accomplished, or threatened by some danger.” (vol. 4, p. 109; errors as in the original text)

Thus it's fair to say that the story is also characterised by a lack of self-insight.

Strangely, the planless storytelling might have been intended. At least there is an excuse for it in the novel. At one point late in the novel, the Marquis of G****** meets G******, who is another self-insert, but now in the role of an author.

[M. of G******]: “Would you not accomplish your purpose better, if you were to polish more, and to dedicate more time to the elaborations of your compositions?”
[G******]: “This would be the case if I did occupy my pen with serious investigations. However, the subjects of which my works are composed, the airy and gay children of a warm and active fancy, to which the language naturally accommodates itself, always appear to greater advantage at the first stroke, than if produced by a slow and anxious elaboration. I observe every thing that is going on around me as much as possible, however, I observe my own imagination with more attention; and the principal fault of which I find myself guilty, rather consists in an irregular exuberance than a sterile dryness.” (vol. 4, pp. 48-49; text in brackets added for clarity)

In other words, the author believed that editing his work would have lessened it's impact on the reader. This reviewer is willing to admit that this is true, but evidently not in the sense that the author had in mind. In relation to this, the quote might also be taken as an answer as to why the protagonist keeps moving from one woman to another, it's simply what kept his fancy 'warm and active.' And the way the quote favours whim to structure explains why the text sometimes seems to change it's mind mid-sentence, e.g:

Our intercourse was, however, not carried any farther on that day, he disappeared into the shrubbery; but a few days after he stopt long enough to give me an opportunity of addressing him. (vol1, p. 120)

Not to mention it might explain some of the stranger writing choices that cannot be explained away by the archaic style, e.g:

Our accuser frequently interrupted their consultation by horrid howls, and was pacified with the greatest difficulty. A pause of profound silence ensued, the monster, who was ready to faint with inward rage, interrupted at length, that dreadful interval of stillness, asking me, with a trembling voice, whether I chose to die, or would take a solemn oath never to reveal what Francisca had disclosed to me, and not to mention a syllable of the affair during a twelve month? (vol 1, pp. 28-29; errors as in the original text)

To return to what impact Horrid Mysteries has made upon this reviewer: Let it be summarised as confusion and frustration, but also mirth. It bears many similarities to the adventure of Baron Munchausen – they are of an ilk, both belonging under the 'Mendace veritas' banner – but with the important distinction that while the fictional Munchausen was the purposefully comical product of someone else's pen, i.e. Raspe's, the Marquis of Grosse is the comical product of his own efforts, and that it turned out this way was in no way by design. One might say that, in a sense, Grosse made himself more Munchausen than the Baron was.

Hopefully the reader of this review would have understood by now why it doesn't include any description of the plot. There is no point in doing so when the book itself sees no need to keep a consistent one. Nor does any description of the plot help the potential reader to understand the feeling of consuming this book. It's the kind of book which leaves one curious as to how it ended up this way in the first place, a curiosity which inevitably leads one to look at the characteristics of the author and the climate he wrote in more than those of the book itself. Of those who have read it, very few say that they found anything to enjoy – this includes plethora of well-known authors, including Austen, Lovecraft, Hodgson, Peacock, and Byron. Most found only frustration. And so this reviewer attempts to prepare the potential reader in a different manner: Not by the allure of a story, but by admitting as early as possible that there isn't really one. Hopefully this will prove a better indication of who should seek this book out and who is better off not to.

[Michael · Rating 3 out of 5]

Barely gothic, though Jane Austen threw it into her famous list in Northanger Abbey. There's a brief prologue suggesting that the protagonist is being plotted against by a secret society, and then the very last paragraph suggests that maybe someone is still plotting against him. But most of the novel is just a series of romantic adventures that strain the protagonist's relationships with his closest male friends. The descriptions of these encounters are not lurid in any way, just dramatically interesting and very readable. I liked the book a lot, but yeah... not really gothic.

[Sotiris Karaiskos · Rating 1 out of 5]

Το μικρότερο από τα επτά Horrid Novels του Northanger Abbey, οπότε το σχόλιο μου για αυτό θα είναι το μικρότερο. Το βιβλίο είναι απλά κακό!

[Tracey Madeley · Rating 4 out of 5]

The significance of this book lies in the fact that it deals with conspiracy theories and secret societies. There are dark caves, hierarchical oversight and an implication that this organisation's influence sreads all over the world. The rituals needed to become a member involve blood letting, which suggests something vaguely satanic.

The role of women in this book both Francesca, Rosalia and Elmira are proactive rather than reactive at a time when women who expressed an opinion were seen as subversive. Yet it is hard to dismiss these women as villains, as they are also victims of the power behind a wider conspiracy.

Like many eighteenth-century novels, it comprises four books piecing together a collection of stories from different perspectives. It does not stand up to twenty-first-century criticism, but its value lies in what it tells us about the eighteenth-century readers and writers.

[Nancy · Rating 2 out of 5]

Actually 1.5 stars. One of the titles listed in Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey, this late 18th century novel is a strange, frustrating, and difficult read. It's meandering, pompous, disconnected, and absurd with an awful lot of classism, violence, sexual intrigue, misogyny, and copious weeping/fainting; it was undoubtably the salacious pulp fiction of it's day (perhaps this was Austen's point in including it?). While I almost gave up on it, I found the last 30 pages to be the best in the book for their clarity, readablity, and a terrific surprise ending (score one for the gals who in disguise save the unfaithful guys several times.) that I never saw coming. Definitely not for the casual (or discerning) reader but I'm glad to finally cross it off my list. Btw, the cover is truly horrid and disgusting on so. many. levels.

[Tiffany · Rating 1 out of 5]

This took me forever to read and it was simply terrible. Basically, some guy whores his way through Europe and is pursued by a secret society that may or may not be bad. Everyone falls in love with him and he falls in love with everyone. I wasn't even clear what was happening half the time. I've read most of the Northanger Abbey "horrid novels" and this was easily the most horrid.

[Helen · Rating 2 out of 5]

When I read the brief synopsis of this book, I expected to be fascinated, to have the same great impression as the one I had when I read The Ghost-Seer by Schiller. But I was disappointed. I found the book boring.

[Clarissa Cresci]

pensavo fosse un libro sulle società segrete e invece era un libro sulle 26272 passioni di Carlos su sua moglie che muore e resuscita 2 volte e poi muore davvero su 3 tentati omicidi e 2 omicidi compiuti io non ho capito niente 3/4 del tempo ma sicuramente nella sua testa aveva senso

[Angela Michelle · Rating 2 out of 5]

What a dump.

[Gilbert · Rating 3 out of 5]

Terribly confusing. Too many titled people, too much fainting and crying. Labyrinthian castles and forests.

[Forrest]

A wonderfully terrible book!

[Lorri · Rating 2 out of 5]

The adventure and great good humor cannot make up for the fragmentation and missing events.