Fangs for the memory

The myth of the vampire has been around since ancient times in one form or another, but it didn't become a popular entertainment trope until the 19th century. Dracula (1897) by Bram Stoker gives us the vampire we all remember, but he was preceded by others. First came Sir Francis Varney, the blood-sucking villain in a long-running serialized adventure that appeared in so-called "penny dreadfuls" – pulp magazines that sold for a penny. 

Wikipedia informs me that when Varney the Vampire, or The Feast of Blood, co-authored by James Malcolm Rymer and Thomas Preskett Prest, "was published in book form in 1847, it was of epic length: the original edition ran to 876 double-columned pages and 232 chapters. Altogether it totals nearly 667,000 words." (Longer than War and Peace, though doubtless the comparisons end there.) That's a lot of verbiage to wade through, all of it reading like this:

God! how the hail dashes on the old bay window! Like an occasional discharge of mimic musketry, it comes clashing, beating, and cracking upon the small panes; but they resist it—their small size saves them; the wind, the hail, the rain, expend their fury in vain.

The bed in that old chamber is occupied. A creature formed in all fashions of loveliness lies in a half sleep upon that ancient couch—a girl young and beautiful as a spring morning. Her long hair has escaped from its confinement and streams over the blackened coverings of the bedstead; she has been restless in her sleep, for the clothing of the bed is in much confusion. One arm is over her head, the other hangs nearly off the side of the bed near to which she lies. A neck and bosom that would have formed a study for the rarest sculptor that ever Providence gave genius to, were half disclosed. She moaned slightly in her sleep, and once or twice the lips moved as if in prayer—at least one might judge so, for the name of Him who suffered for all came once faintly from them. ...

Was that lightning? Yes—an awful, vivid, terrifying flash—then a roaring peal of thunder, as if a thousand mountains were rolling one over the other in the blue vault of Heaven! Who sleeps now in that ancient city? Not one living soul. The dread trumpet of eternity could not more effectually have awakened any one.

 

 

Though Varney is the very first modern vampire story, I haven't read it. I'm not quite that interested in either vampires or Victoriana. But I have read the second such story, Carmilla, written by J. Sheridan Le Fanu (like Bram Stoker, an Irishman) and published in 1872. Carmilla is a female vampire, eternally frozen in the form of a young teenage girl of alluring beauty. Here she is described by the narrator, Laura:

She was slender, and wonderfully graceful. Except that her movements were languid--very languid--indeed, there was nothing in her appearance to indicate an invalid. Her complexion was rich and brilliant; her features were small and beautifully formed; her eyes large, dark, and lustrous; her hair was quite wonderful, I never saw hair so magnificently thick and long when it was down about her shoulders; I have often placed my hands under it, and laughed with wonder at its weight. It was exquisitely fine and soft, and in color a rich very dark brown, with something of gold. I loved to let it down, tumbling with its own weight, as, in her room, she lay back in her chair talking in her sweet low voice, I used to fold and braid it, and spread it out and play with it. Heavens! If I had but known all!

Unlike later vampires, Carmilla can tolerate sunlight and seems to have no problem with mirrors. But she must take her repose in her coffin and, of course, must feed on blood. Her preferred victims are young girls like herself, whom she nuzzles toothily in the bosom. Perhaps the story's most interesting aspect is that Carmilla seems, at times, to have real affection for her intended victim, not to mention a decided sexual attraction:

She used to place her pretty arms about my neck, draw me to her, and laying her cheek to mine, murmur with her lips near my ear, "Dearest, your little heart is wounded; think me not cruel because I obey the irresistible law of my strength and weakness; if your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours. In the rapture of my enormous humiliation I live in your warm life, and you shall die--die, sweetly die--into mine. I cannot help it; as I draw near to you, you, in your turn, will draw near to others, and learn the rapture of that cruelty, which yet is love; so, for a while, seek to know no more of me and mine, but trust me with all your loving spirit."

And when she had spoken such a rhapsody, she would press me more closely in her trembling embrace, and her lips in soft kisses gently glow upon my cheek.

 

 illustration from an early edition of Carmilla

 

But does she really care? Carmilla's true feelings remain ambiguous. Near the end, the now-enlightened narrator tells us:

The vampire is prone to be fascinated with an engrossing vehemence, resembling the passion of love, by particular persons. In pursuit of these it will exercise inexhaustible patience and stratagem, for access to a particular object may be obstructed in a hundred ways. It will never desist until it has satiated its passion, and drained the very life of its coveted victim. But it will, in these cases, husband and protract its murderous enjoyment with the refinement of an epicure, and heighten it by the gradual approaches of an artful courtship. In these cases it seems to yearn for something like sympathy and consent. In ordinary ones it goes direct to its object, overpowers with violence, and strangles and exhausts often at a single feast.

In the course of the novella, Carmilla sets her sights on the young and innocent Laura, and brings her to the brink of death (and undeath) before she is dispatched by quick-thinking vampire hunters in a rather rushed finale.

The story is well-written, though a bit slow-paced, and offers a lot of cinematic possibilities which over the years have been explored in three different feature films and several television dramatizations. The only one of these I've seen is the 1970 exploitation film The Vampire Lovers, starring Ingrid Pitt as Carmilla. It's a pretty faithful adaptation, with both the strengths and weaknesses of the original material. Pitt is perhaps a bit too old to play Carmilla and her range of facial expressions is not wide, but she carries it off well enough. Aficionados consider The Vampire Lovers to be the last first-rate Hammer horror film before the studio's descent into pure schlock. The movie's relatively high quality is belied by its poster, which is not exactly a model of subtlety and refinement:

 

 

Thankfully, few of the lurid elements in the poster appear in the movie itself, which is surprisingly restrained save for occasional moments of gore and considerable (sometimes gratuitous) nudity. 

Carmilla has attracted its share of scholarly interest, some of which is reflected in the Wikipedia article about it. Unfortunately, the analysis presented there is marred by a rather absurd political correctness that interprets the dated narrative in postmodern feminist terms:

In the novella, le Fanu abolishes the Victorian view of women as merely useful possessions of men, relying on them and needing their constant guardianship. The male characters of the story, such as Laura’s father and General Spielsdorf, are exposed as being the opposite of the putative Victorian males – helpless and unproductive. The nameless father reaches an agreement with Carmilla’s mother, whereas Spieldorf cannot control the faith of his daughter, Bertha. Both of these scenes portray women as equal, if not superior to men. This female empowerment is even more threatening to men if we consider Carmilla’s vampiric predecessors and their relationship with their prey. Carmilla is the opposite of those male vampires – she is actually involved with her victims both emotionally and sexually. Moreover, she is able to exceed even more limitations by dominating death. In the end, that her immortality is suggested to be sustained by the river where her ashes had been scattered.

What is true is that Carmilla exercises considerable power and control over others, as one would expect of any self-respecting vampire, and that Laura's father is clueless throughout much of the story. However, both Laura and an earlier victim, Bertha, are in fact seen as "relying on [men] and needing their constant guardianship." Laura is saved from death only by the intervention of male rescuers, who track down Carmilla's grave and destroy her in the nick of time while Laura languishes in bed. One of these rescuers is General Spielsdorf (played by Peter Cushing in the movie), who is the opposite of "helpless and unproductive." Though unable to save his ward (his daughter in the film), he rises to the challenge of dispatching the vampiress once he understands the situation.

As for the idea that Carmilla's immortality is "sustained by the river where her ashes had been scattered" – well, let's take a look at how she's done in:

Here then, were all the admitted signs and proofs of vampirism. The body, therefore, in accordance with the ancient practice, was raised, and a sharp stake driven through the heart of the vampire, who uttered a piercing shriek at the moment, in all respects such as might escape from a living person in the last agony. Then the head was struck off, and a torrent of blood flowed from the severed neck. The body and head was next placed on a pile of wood, and reduced to ashes, which were thrown upon the river and borne away, and that territory has never since been plagued by the visits of a vampire.

Staked, decapitated, and incinerated! River or no river, that is one dead vampire. She is not just pining for the fjords.

Though these early efforts helped establish the vampire in the public mind, it was left to Bram Stoker t0 delineate fiction's most memorable creature of the night. Stoker served for a long time as the personal assistant to famed actor and stage impresario Henry Irving, a man who was larger than life, elegant, and cruel. Not surprisingly, Irving is thought by many to have served as the model for Dracula. If so, the actor's simulacrum continues to haunt our movie screens and paperbacks, having acquired a kind of shadowy immortality — not unlike a vampire.

I wonder if the thought would please him.  

 

Henry Irving — the "real" Dracula? 

Comments

[Saj Patel]

IMO one of the greatest vampire stories is I Am Legend by Richard Matheson.

Carmilla to me seems akin to the "hungry ghosts", though not Joe Fisher's which IMO seems like an obvious case of Super Psi. Rather the devouring undead who want to ape human concern while really just being driven by hunger.

To that point Colin Wilson actually went around looking for reports of blood drinking ghosts, IIRC the closest thing we have to anything resembling the courtly vampires of stories.

The historical record has some interesting reports of corpses that were undecayed, the spirits seemingly preying on the local populace.

Pair Colin's work - which includes looking into elementals and werewolves - with Vallee's Passport to Magonia and you get an interesting picture. I sometimes wonder if the world runs from Mythic to Magical to Modern...and then back again?

[Saj Patel]

Ah forgot to add - As I recall Stoker admired Irving, but was also hurt by Irving's rejection of Irish independence?

Stoker - again if memory serves - also seemed to have a feeling of repulsion and sympathy for Vlad the Impaler, with the character Dracula rising from a dream after some research on tale...which was begun after Wilde's arrest...

[Michael Prescott]

I don’t recall the details, but Stoker had a love-hate relationship with Irving. He was quite hurt that Irving would not play the role of Dracula on stage after the book became a sensational success. The fact that he so dearly wanted to see Irving in the part is one reason that many critics and biographers believe he modeled Dracula after Irving.

[Saj Patel]

Ah I actually wasn't aware Stoker was hurt Irving refused to play the role. Thanks for that tidbit!

I definitely agree Irving was part of the inspiration (Dracula's strength/cruelty), along with Stoker's Irish background (Dracula as immigrant), his friendship with Wilde (Dracula as male Carmilla), etc.

Dracula is actually an interesting book from which to "read" about Stoker's potential mentality.

[Headsu]

There's a nutcase impersonating your RationalWiki article talk named Michael Coombs
https://rationalwiki.org/wiki/Talk:Michael_Prescott

https://trollpedia.miraheze.org/wiki/Michael_Coombs/RationalWiki

[Michael Prescott]

Yeah, I haven’t posted any comments on RW. The comment in question, ascribed to "Michael Prescott," reads:

//Looks like this was another RationalWiki hit-piece written by an Antifa

Shame on RationalWiki for its lies.//

Not my style. I wouldn’t refer to "an Antifa." And I wouldn’t say "shame on" somebody or other. Well, maybe, "Fool me once, shame on you ..."

RW doesn’t bother me. I think most intelligent people can see that it’s a tendentious and unreliable source — not unlike its more famous cousin, Wikipedia, at least where controversial topics are concerned.