At some point in my life I became fascinated with the Victorian Vampire tale and sought out every extant instance of it that I could find. I haunted my local bookstores and purchased from mail order catalogues specializing in Dark Fantasy and Horror (obviously this was in the days before the Internet) but after a while I began to see the same stories and after reading them, there were only a select few which I ever felt compelled to return to. Such a one is Carmilla, the infamous novella by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu. It is largely known nowadays as the story that spawned the genre of sexually ambiguous vampires, but it is so much more than that and deserves to be acknowledge as one of the greatest Gothic Horror stories ever written.
“…I saw a female figure standing at the foot of the bed, a little at the right side. It was in a dark loose dress, and its hair was down and covered its shoulders. A block of stone could not have been more still.” (David Henry Friston, 1872)
It was originally serialized in the short-lived literary magazine, The Dark Blue, from 1871-1872, with illustrations by Michael Fitzgerald and David Henry Friston (respectively). It is presented as an account written by the protagonist, Laura, 10 years after her encounter with the eponymous vampire. (SPOILERS AHEAD!)
Basically, Carmilla is an aristocratic teenage vampire who plays on social etiquette to wheedle her way into the homes of the gentry where she woos and feeds on the young women of the household. To keep herself fettle during her protracted courtships she creeps out at night and drains the village daughters. It is this emphasis on same sex seduction that has given the tale its notoriety. Hammer studios exploited this in their 1970 film, Vampire Lovers, which alternately boosted and doomed the career of the curvaceous Polish born actress Ingrid Pitt. Although in her 30s at the time, her mesmerizing portrayal of the predatory countess is so iconic that it guaranteed her an esteemed place through posterity in the Horror film annals alongside her male counterparts, like Christopher Lee.
The movie was basically Hammer’s attempt to spice up their brand with a saucy new franchise, which came to be known as the Karnstein Trilogy, named after the family of vampires from which Carmilla was one of the lone survivors. Surprisingly enough, the film follows Le Fanu’s story fairly closely, although they do play up the erotic aspects of the tale and even have Ms. Pitt frolicking naked with co-star Madeline Smith (who plays Emma, the film’s equivalent to Laura) and seducing anyone and everyone (male or female) who has the arguable misfortune to come within her path. She is very charismatic and has a sensual allure that is very like her literary counterpart and, like her, when it comes time to vamp out, she is genuinely terrifying.
The film did well enough to spawn two sequels, however Ms. Pitt declined to renew her role for fear of being typecast, and subsequently the follow-up film, 1971’s Lust for a Vampire, was a weak link in the series. The story had some good plot ideas but was marred by the cardboard acting of Danish model turned actress Yutte Stensgaard and an emphasis on lurid, puerile softcore scenes. The 3rd installment, Twins of Evil (also 1971), had a better script, the delectable Collinson twins, and a grave performance by the recently widowed Peter Cushing, to recommend it.
Magazine promo featuring the ladies from Vampire Lovers. Ingrid Pitt is in the top row, dressed in blue.
Oddly enough, in the featurette on the Blu-ray release of Vampire Lovers, from Shout Factory, the director, Roy Ward Baker, as well as many of the others involved with the movie claimed they never saw the Sapphic subtext in the Le Fanu story. I find that hard to believe; either they’re being coy or they are willfully ignoring the obvious. That said, I don’t think Le Fanu intended for his tale to be salacious, as he never stoops to tawdry titillations in his descriptions of Carmilla’s heated declarations and osculatory embraces. A modern reader must understand that in the Victorian mind, homosexuality was considered an unnatural transgression and a damning affront to God; this can be seen in Laura’s adverse reaction to Carmilla’s advances, which she initially tries to dismiss as “mysterious moods”. They trouble her greatly, but Carmilla’s glamour of preternatural beauty and persuasive powers have a way of softening her aversion.
There is great Gothic atmosphere in the story as well as some genuinely creepy moments that are brilliantly written, like when Laura describes her spectral visitations; the first visit from Carmilla as a young child is particularly vivid and disturbing. I was also blindsided by the implication that Laura is distantly related to the Karnsteins. It made me wonder, is Carmilla trying to bring another family member into the depleted Karnstein family vampire coven? Laura’s mother died young and I believe she may have been taken or at least an attempt was made to take her, although this isn’t fully explored in the tale. Carmilla hints at such a thing, and more, in this telling passage from chapter 4 wherein I believe she hints at her vampiric nature, which she claims even she cannot control, and that, once initiated, Laura will bring others into the fold as well:
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.”
Although not the first literary vampire, Carmilla did help establish many of the tropes we expect nowadays from our vampires, like returning to their place of burial each night, their mesmeric power, pointy teeth, the ability to shapeshift (Carmilla turns into a great shadowy cat), and even the ability to breach locked doors without effort.
Bram Stoker appears to have been familiar with the story, as there are some analogous scenes and details in Dracula (1897). In fact, before he discovered Emily Gerard‘s treasure trove travel essay Transylvania Superstitions (1885), he was going to have the novel take place in Styria, the Austrian state where Le Fanu’s tale takes place. I also suspect that perhaps the Baron Vordenburg, who is the vampire authority in the tale, could have been an inspiration for Stoker’s Abraham Van Helsing.
I wonder as well whether the tomes Le Fanu mentions as coming from his library which, after an unfruitful precursory search, I assume are fictitious, might not also be considered precursors to the imaginary grimoires of the Lovecraft mythos, predating even Robert W Chambers‘ King in Yellow.
Nowadays, any time someone writes an erotic vampire tale, especially if it hints at lesbianism, the character of Carmilla is bound the make an appearance at some point. The Karnstein name has been bandied about in many Horror and exploitation films over the years, and Carmilla has appeared in countless comic books, cartoons, video games, you name it. In fact, despite never having quite become household name, she is probably the most famous literary vampire after Dracula.
Both stories are heavily plundered in the exploitation film Alucarda, by Mexican director Juan López Moctezuma. A few scenes are taken directly from Carmilla, like the scene with the hunchback who tries to sell the girls charms, and the bit where they enter the crypt and find Alucarda’s friend reposing in a coffin overbrimming in blood.
Lastly, I have been smitten with Carmilla for decades. Her story has definitely had an influence on the development of my own vampire women, Thalía & Morbidezza, and I reckon I’ll continue to be in her thrall until the day I stretch out for a dolce far niente in my own narrow house, to dream of bats, blood, and fair fey women amidst the crumbling tombs of the Karnstein family crypt.
