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Blood, Sex and Vampirism: Queer

Desires in Stoker’s Dracula and Le
Fanu’s Carmilla
Lucas Künnecke

Blood, Sex and Vampirism: Queer Desires in Stoker’s Dracula and Le Fanu’s Carmilla

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Lucas Künnecke
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Blood, Sex and Vampirism:

Queer Desires in Stoker’s Dracula and Le Fanu’s Carmilla
 Contents

1. Introduction ............................................................................................................. 1

2. Victorian Historical Contexts .................................................................................. 2

2.1 Ladies and Gentlemen: Sexuality and Heteronormativity .............................. 3

2.2 Social Anxieties: The Fascination with Vampirism in Victorian England..... 7

3. Literary Victorian Vampires: Stoker’s Dracula and Le Fanu’s Carmilla ............... 8

4. Conclusion .............................................................................................................. 14
 Künnecke 1

Lucas Künnecke

Blood, Sex and Vampirism:

Queer Desires in Stoker’s Dracula and Le Fanu’s Carmilla

1. Introduction

Without a doubt, vampires are in vogue: they have been for more than a century and the interest
in vampire fiction in contemporary 21st century society seems to continue and even grow.
Especially in the last decade there has been a striking proliferation in the conceptualizations
of the vampire. Once mainly feared as a foreign threat with the sole desire to drink human
blood, contemporary vampires appear to have arrived – more or less – at the centre of society.
When looking at newer works such as the Twilight series or the TV series True Blood one
easily notices that vampires have literally come a long way since the old days of Polidori’s the
Vampyre (1819), Rymer's Varney the Vampire (1845), Le Fanu’s Carmilla (1872) or Stoker’s
Dracula (1897) which arguably paved the way for more recent concepts of vampirism.
In Sheridan Le Fanu’s Carmilla and Bram Stoker’s Dracula – both published during
the Victorian era and the subject of this paper – sexuality is addressed, sometimes visible but
more often hidden, within the books’ plots. The vampire’s infinite thirst for blood is
elaborately interwoven with contemporary Victorian issues and questions of sexuality in a time
where concepts of the role of women, morality and sexuality in general were subjects of
reassessment. These shifts in society and the dynamics that produced them are directly or
indirectly dealt with in Dracula and Carmilla. On the surface the vampiric ‘monsters’ of the
stories can obviously be classified within the biological and sociological concepts of male
(Dracula) and female (Carmilla), however, it will become obvious that the vampires of the
stories are far more complicated in terms of perceptions of gender and sexuality. Contemporary
queer theoretical concepts shall provide the theoretical framework for an in-depth analysis of
these pieces of Victorian literature.
The following paper will argue that the traditional modern vampire, based on the works
of Bram Stoker and Sheridan Le Fanu, is an intrinsically queer creature that does not strictly
 Künnecke 2

adhere to Victorian ideas and features of gender norms and traditions but transcends and
deconstructs those categories by incarnating both male and female characteristics and bringing
about confusing regarding those rigid theoretical gender concepts and heteronormativity,
which I will argue to be an important queering moment.

2. Victorian Historical Contexts

As many works and forms of art throughout human history they should not be entirely taken
and received out of their historical context in order to fully grasp the covert intentions,
allusions and other subtexts within the plots: Dracula and Carmilla as part of Victorian
literature are no exception to this rule. Both texts are deeply rooted within their time of writing
and mirror the time’s zeitgeist and views. To assess sexuality and gender in these two stories
one should also take a deeper look at the views, traditions, laws and morals that revolved
around issues of sexuality and such.
Generally people of the 21st century often have a specific idea about what the Victorian
era and the Victorians must have been like. Simon Joyce (2007: 3) aptly argues that “we never
really encounter ‘the Victorians’ themselves, but instead a mediated image […]” which shows
that it is a delicate path to talk about the Victorians as much of our society’s superficial
knowledge is based on what we are told by the media or contemporary neo-Victorian
metafiction. Associations that are often connected with Victorian England include the overall
negative notion of child labour, harsh living and working conditions, and, of course, rigidly
suppressed sexuality. Joyce agrees that “[t]here seems to be a prevailing popular consensus
about the defining features of the period – […] imperialism, a rigid separation of public and
private spheres, a repressive sexual morality, and an ascendant hegemony of [white] middle-
class values […]”. Many are perhaps unaware or ignorant of the similarities our modern
western societies share with the Victorian era of the 19th century and the importance this
specific century played for the way we think about sexuality, morals and (work) ethics in our
time.
The following passages up until (3) will assess the prevalent ideas, notions and
understandings of topics such as sexuality and gender constructions through the 21st century
queer looking glass. Before entering the aforementioned queer analysis, the emergence and
ascent of vampires and vampire fiction during the second half of the 19th century shall be dealt
 Künnecke 3

with in order to aid the understanding of the constant fascination with vampirism and the
vampire creature in particular based on the canonical vampiric texts that are Carmilla and
Dracula.

2.1 Ladies and Gentlemen: Sexuality and Heteronormativity

When Bram Stoker’s Dracula was published in 1897, twenty-five years after Le Fanu’s
Carmilla, Victorian society was amidst processes of numerous social dynamics and rethinking
that would re-evaluate and review old ways of approaching important issues such as gender
and sexuality.
Despite Queen Victoria’s reign on the throne, society was still undoubtedly patriarchally
structured und organised. As a matter of fact, hegemonic masculinity functioned as a driving
social force to subdue threatening female sexuality which was deemed unacceptable and
merely a means for marital procreation to ensure the continued existence of the British Empire.
The role of women was among the most widely discussed (political) discourses during the
time. Dracula also addresses this topic of the so-called New Woman who intended to reclaim
her own life, potential and education. However, granting women (or other subdued social
groups respectively) more freedom, independence, power and education obviously comes at
the price of loss of power for the ruling hegemonic patriarchy which perceived the ascending
modern, emancipated and empowered woman as a threat to the male-dominated status quo.
Suzanne Dixon (2006: 48) observes that “Stoker’s novel […] addresses the contemporary
concerns of society with the immorality of the New Woman and the gender confusion she
caused, and the associated degeneration and dilution of the race”. While men would provide
for the family and, thus, represent the dominant active part of the family, women would
traditionally be passively confined to the bedroom, the education of the children and the
household. This rigid dichotomy was diluted as more and more women politicised themselves
and strived to claim active positions which were traditionally considered a strictly mail
domain. Before this emerging early phase of first wave feminism, women were expected to
behave according to a strict catalogue of rules on how to become and behave like the ideal
proper English lady who was supposed to be the Angel in the House (a term based on the 1852-
1862 poem of the same name by Coventry Patmore). Deviant behaviour such as expressive
female sexuality was socially condemned and often backed through medical findings such as
 Künnecke 4

reports of hysteria (a medical condition particularly attributed to women). In a time that

perfected the taming of the affects, unbridled female sexuality was obviously a dangerous thing
that bore the potential to disrupt the homosocial male-dominated state of affairs. Both Stoker’s
and Le Fanu’s works feature this fear of active female sexuality – often connoted as vampiric
– and the consequent impending threat to society and the heteronormative sphere.
As coherent with the unequal distribution of rights and power, female sexuality –
addressed and focused on for instance in Le Fanu’s Carmilla – and male sexuality were treated
differently. While women were supposed to refrain from any sexual activity before marriage,
it was acceptable for men to have multiple sexual partners during their lives. Women, on the
other side, had to fear severe and socially detrimental consequences in case of extramarital
sexual activity: the status of the degraded fallen woman can be seen as one instance of these
consequences. Sex workers such as prostitutes – an example of the concept of fallen women –
on the other hand, enjoyed much more personal and economic independence than married
women who literally surrendered bodies, certain rights and assets to their husbands who
represented the family henceforth. Marsh (2005) aptly notes that “as daughters, employees or
servants, young women were subject to male authority; [sic!] as whores they enjoyed economic
and personal independence“. Public campaigns against brothels and prostitution, however,
reinforced and perpetuated the image of sordid depravity of female sex workers (cf. Marsh
2005).
In reference to Stoker – perhaps a closeted homosexual as some scholars have argued (cf.
Brigitte Boudreau 2011: 44) in the light of homoerotic undertones in Dracula and scarce
biographical information regarding Stoker’s private life – it may be argued that issues of
sexuality were generally of heightened interest to him as he undoubtedly witnessed the
excesses of Victorian morality as his life-long acquaintance Oscar Wilde was brought to trial
and eventually convicted during the last decade of the century (1895) for gross indecency.
Especially when looking at neo-Victorian fiction it becomes clear that even to the postmodern
reader of the 21st century (imagined) Victorian sexuality still appears to be of particular interest
(cf. Marie-Luise Kohlke 2008: 53). However, there is often a discrepancy between historically
accurate Victorian sexualities and the ones portrayed in neo-Victorian fiction. Nowadays
commonly perceived as repressive and anti-pleasure when it comes to sexuality, the Victorian
population was allegedly forced to hide any erotic tension or frenzy. This supposed sexual
secretiveness – in contrast to our arguably demystified, more liberated postmodern perception
of sexuality – is often argued to be the reason for the sustained fascination with Victorian
sexuality. For Kohlke (2008: 56) the contrast between them and us, and the insinuation of
 Künnecke 5

“imagined perversity” of Victorian sexuality, is the reason for postmodern recipients’

attraction to the topic: “By projecting prohibited and unmentionable desires onto the past, we
conveniently reassert our own supposedly enlightened stance towards sexual liberation and
social progress, indulging in the self-satisfactions of our assumed superiority”.
Especially during the second half of the 20th century, renowned scholars such as Michael
Foucault strived to assess the underlying forces of (Victorian) sexuality. On a related note, his
assessments of sexuality should not be understood as merely confined to England but as part
of the zeitgeist of various western societies. As still today, the topic of sexuality and one’s own
sexual identity was of much importance in Victorian England as gender, sexuality and sexual
activity shifted into focus like rarely before (cf. Martain: 2006) and grew to become a defining
criterion for one’s identity. Foucault (1976: 25) points out that

there emerged a political, economic, and technical incitement to talk about sex. […] This
need to take sex ‘into account’, to pronounce a discourse on sex that would not derive
from morality alone but from rationality as well, was sufficiently new that at first it
wondered at itself and sought apologies for its own existence.

For Foucault (cf. 1976: 5) sexuality is directly and interdependently linked with power
structures such as social hierarchies. During the course of emerging capitalism, sexuality
became steadily more and more socially repressed until it was eventually confined to the
personal sphere throughout the 19th century in bourgeois Victorian England (cf. 1976: 3). Often
people were simply uninformed on the topic of sex due to lack of educational material and the
overall discretion towards sexual topics. Jan Marsh (2005), in reference to Foucault, argues
that “sex was not censored but subject to obsessive discussion as a central discourse of power,
bent on regulation rather than suppression”. Eroticism, sex and sexuality thus gained a status
of something one does not talk about as it was not visible – since it was supposed to stay hidden
under lock and key behind bedroom walls. Foucault clarifies that “sexuality was carefully
confined; it moved into the home. […] On the subject of sex, silence became the rule” (1976:
3). The impression that the Victorians must have surely despised sex often suggests itself to
unacquainted recipients of (neo-) Victorian art and fiction. Marsh (2005), however, argues that

evidence has shown that Victorian sex was not polarised between female distaste […]
and extra-marital male indulgence. Instead many couples seem to have enjoyed mutual
pleasure in what is now seen as a normal, modern manner. The picture is occluded
however by the variety of attitudes that exist at any given time, and by individuals'
undoubted reticence […].
 Künnecke 6

The acting out of deviant sexual behaviour (such as homosexuality) thus moved underground
(to brothels for instance) into nonexistence for the public. Obviously, forms of considered
deviant sexual behaviour were existent (yet often hidden) throughout history. However, at the
fin-de-siècle of the 19th century, a concrete process of mapping took place as every person was
assigned a specific gender within the gender binary (male/female) and sexual orientation
(homo/hetero), which highly influenced and reshaped various discourses and became the basis
of identity. These discourses did not necessarily have to be of sexual nature as can be seen in
the strong influence on fields such as law, medicine or psychology. Kathryn Hughes (2014)
notes that "during the Victorian period men and women’s roles became more sharply defined
than at any time in history".
Among the emerging categorisations of sexual species there arose the (male)
homosexual as a concretely defined class. As mentioned, it has been argued that Stoker
entertained same-sex desire. Possible allusions to this can also be found in Dracula which will
be examined later in this treatise. The xeno-homophobic facets of Victorian double morality
and jurisdiction became publicly evident in the infamous trials of Oscar Wilde which most
likely would not have motivated Stoker to change his attitude towards potential closetedness,
especially as his most famous work Dracula would be published two years later. Eventually
during the last years of his life, Stoker developed a strong and publically voiced aversion to
(male) homosexuality. In contrast to Stoker’s rather reserved private life, Wilde was forced
into the public focus and the scale of his trials were of immense importance for the historical
understanding and classification of the homosexual as it was built around Wilde’s persona and
trials. He became the paragon of the homosexual man in public notion (cf. Alan Sinfield 1994:
124). Historically, male homosexuality (or to use the more Victorian term same-sex desire)
has generally always been the greater subject of condemnation then female homosexuality.
Madiha Didi Khayatt (1992: 12) notes that "it is mostly true that male homosexuals were
regularly singled out for persecution much more than their female counterparts". Homosocial
constellations between women allowed for much more freedom than the male counterpart. In
Carmilla sexuality appears implicitly beneath the surface as the female character of Carmilla
possesses much more scope in terms of socially acceptable affection, thus, masking her
vampiric thirst for (female) blood. Women, socially perceived and raised as being more
emotional than men, were much freer in their display of affection for each other than men.
Dracula and Carmilla display these socially accepted liberties to a certain extent: Both
characters Mina and Lucy feel comfortable in their affectionate behaviour towards each other
 Künnecke 7

as best friends. In Sheridan Le Fanu’s Carmilla the protagonist Laura yearns for a female
companion without any initial erotic undertones. Carmilla – representing the threat of vampiric
female sexuality – walks the line between socially acceptable homosocial behaviour and the
transgression towards implicit explicitness.
Due to the rigid expectations towards sexual identity, behaviour, gender relations and
the distribution of power during the Victorian era, queer breaches with or inversions of these
concepts, issues and practices (as will be assessed in (3) by the example of Dracula and
Carmilla) are able to expose the fragility of male-hegemonic society and gender definitions
and, thus, deconstruct arguments of gender inequality.

2.2 Social Anxieties: The Fascination with Vampirism in Victorian

England

Despite Dracula being one of the most widely cherished pieces of modern vampire fiction, the
myth of the vampire was no new Victorian idea. However, profound works such as Carmilla
and Dracula emerged during a critical time in Victorian society. At the fin-de-siècle Dracula
in particular – being published twenty-five years after Le Fanu’s Carmilla – was able to
capture the issues and fears of the time as old traditions and views were in the process of
fundamental change. The old relations to and views of sexuality and gender – especially in
connection to the role of women - began to crumble and the fear of intrusion and reverse
colonization (cf. Stephen D. Arata 1990) through the other are reflected upon, especially in
Bram Stoker’s work (cf. Dixon 2006: 47). Jane M. Jacobs (1996: 2f) states that “social
constructs of Same and Other [sic!] provided the fundamental building blocks for the
hierarchies of power which produced empires and the uneven relations […]”. Her argument
reflects upon the fact that the perception of the other is strongly related to concepts of the same
which are constructed and interpreted around the exclusion of the other and the difference of
these two concepts (same – other) in contrast to each other. In the light of British colonial
politics and imperialism there seems to arise an arguable necessity to demonize (cf. Jacobs
1996: 3) the suppressed other in order to justify exploitation, racism and national superiority.
Domestic crises, contradictions and anxieties were thus projected onto the other – Count
Dracula for his foreignness; Carmilla for her unbridled female sexuality – in order to legitimize
actions and discriminating concepts without necessarily burdening the collective conscience
 Künnecke 8

(cf. Ulrike Stamm 2010: 40). Arata (1990: 632f) constitutes a striking similarity between
Count Dracula’s endeavours to settle in London and “British imperial activities abroad”. For
him “the British characters see their own ideology reflected back as a form of bad faith, since
the count’s Occidentalism both mimics and reverses the more familiar Orientalism
underwriting Western imperial practices” (1990: 634). The monstrosity of the vampire was
able to capture the zeitgeist and yielded a suiting canvas for the projection of social anxieties.
The emerging and more independent new women is addressed in Dracula in particular. While
Carmilla (1872) is positioned rather at the beginning of the chronological process of this early
feminism, Dracula’s arrival in 1897 arguably hit the shelves at the right time to ensure large
interest by the British population as it combined numerous contemporary fears of Victorian
society. These political and historical conditions should be taken into consideration if one
wishes to fully grasp the authors’ intentions, hints and hidden allusions in Victorian vampire
fiction.

3. Queer Victorian Vampires: Stoker’s Dracula and Le Fanu’s Carmilla

Queer theory emerged in the USA in the 1990s as a critical theory that aims to uncover the
social constructions of sexuality, sexual identities and the conjoining process of
institutionalisation of the gay, lesbian and women’s movements. Queer theory should not be
understood as a theory in the sense of a closed coherent academic philosophy but rather a
theoretically-conceptual and strongly political idea for a reconceptualization of sexuality and
gender by which identity politics – that have become problematic – may eventually be
overcome. Deeply influenced by post-structuralist thinking, queer theory seeks to dismount
the heteronormative state where the binary gender system (men / women) defines and dictates
what is perceived as normal and socially penalises deviations from the norm as perversion.
Both Dracula and Carmilla feature moments of queerness where the traditional
(Victorian) gender binary, male hegemony and heteronormativity is suspended. In relation to
Carmilla, Amy Leal (2007: 38) aptly states that “Carmilla's passion for Laura not only
threatens her life, but also the power structure of Victorian society”. George E. Haggerty
(2000: 1421) remarks that “because blood is a universal element of life, vampiric desire in its
pure state ignores all distinctions of species, person, and sex [sic!]”. In Dracula, the
homosocial group of male vampire hunters – fittingly referred to by Craft (1984: 109) as the
 Künnecke 9

“Crew of Light” – have set it upon themselves to defend the heteronormative sphere and to
eventually restore the former order that is threatened by the invasion of Dracula into Victorian
London.. Eric Kwan-Wai Yu (2010: 146) notes that “Dracula uses anxiety to produce […] a
particular form of professional, male, homosocial combination”. Despite the Crew of Light
consisting of male characters, Mina Harker transcends the typical female gender boundaries
and aids the group by embodying facets of the new women as she industriously records all
known facts about the threat of Dracula.
While Mina embodies traditionally male connoted attributes such as diligence in these
scenes – thus approaching the actively connoted male domain – her fiancé (and later husband)
Jonathan Harker is relieved of some of his traditional male activeness earlier in the story during
his involuntary stay at Castle Dracula. While Harker is being kept prisoner at the castle he is
erotically and sexually approached one night by the count’s three vampiric women. Intending
to marry his fiancée Mina upon his return, Harker’s feelings are initially ambiguous: “There
was something about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some
deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red
lips” (Stoker 1994: 51). On the one hand he realises the strangeness (or queerness) of the
situation – being passively beguiled by active women – but at the same time he welcomes the
dangerous sexual suspense (cf. Yu 2010: 147f). Desire is quickly transformed into monstrosity
(a reappearing motif in the story) as Dracula claims Harker for himself and offers his three
vampiric companions – in front of a passively repulsed Harker – a newborn child to feast upon
as compensation. One of the most overt homoerotic (or bi-erotic) moments of the story takes
place in this scene as the count forcefully and furiously exclaims: “This man belongs to me”
(Stoker 1994: 53). Mere moments before Dracula’s intervention and arrival on the scene, pairs
of (female) vampire teeth hover over an inactive and ecstatically paralyzed Harker as he feels
“the soft, shivering touch of the lips on the supersensitive skin of [his] throat, and the hard
dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there” (Stoker 1994: 52). The phallic
connotation of vampire teeth as they pierce – and deflorate – the skin is common in analyses
of vampire fiction. However, in the combination of active female (vampire) and passive male
(victim), there arises the notion of gender role inversion as women are now in the role of the
penetrator. Christopher Craft (1984: 109) argues that “luring at first with an inviting orifice, a
promise of red softness, but delivering instead a piercing bone, the vampire mouth fuses and
confuses […] the gender-based categories of the penetrating and the receptive”. In addition,
Craft (1984: 111) uncovers another homoerotic momentum when, “[l]ate in the text, the Count
himself announces a deflected homoeroticism when he admonishes the Crew of Light thus:
 Künnecke 10

‘My revenge is just begun! I spread it over the centuries, and time is on my side. Your girls
that you all love are mine already; and through them you and others shall yet be mine [sic!]’”.
The last passage reflects again upon the repeating historical notion of the danger of female
sexuality which may be the passage through which harm (or the other) can enter the British
Empire. In this context, Dixon (2006: 48) aptly notes that “[…] faced with Dracula’s seductive
power […] women represented a danger to the Empire”. Another phallic imagery can be found
later in the story after Lucy is buried in the tomb and eventually returns in her vampire form
in search for human blood. Professor Van Helsing rationally explains to the other male
members of the Crew of Light that the only way to give her peace in the afterlife and to end
her vampiric curse is to drive a wooden stake through her heart (cf. Stoker 1994: 241). The
phallic allusion in this violent scene is obvious. However, in order to restore the male
hegemonic order, they feel obliged to cut off her head in addition. Van Helsing argues this
severely desecrating and violent act to be a necessity in order to end the vampire curse. Similar
to the scene of the three vampiric women beguiling Harker in the count’s castle, active female
sexuality is again linked to dangerous monstrosity as Dr. Seward notes that “[Lucy’s]
sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous
wantonness” (Stoker 1994: 252f). Interestingly his notion is solely based on his visual
perception of Lucy in the moonlit graveyard. Just as Harker, he too experiences ambiguous
feelings through Lucy’s “diabolically sweet […] tones” (Stoker 1994: 253). In accordance to
traditional monogamous principles, the obligation falls upon Arthur Holmwood – whose
proposal she accepted prior to her vampire transformation – to penetrate her heart with the
wooden stake (cf. Stoker 1994: 258f). The finale of the task, the amputation of her head, is
then taken on by Van Helsing as the symbolically sexual act of penetration is over.
While Dracula focuses mainly on facets of male homosexuality and male hegemony,
Carmilla’s subtext features numerous occasions of allusions to and representation of female
homosexuality. Before going into detail it should be taken into account that the story by the
Irish author Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu is narrated retrospectively eight years after the arrival of
Carmilla by his intradiegetic protagonist Laura whose reliability may be subject of questioning
as her involvement with Carmilla has been deeply intimate. Hayley Cotter (2014: 2) notes that
“if Carmilla is read as strictly a vampire tale, then Laura’s lack of objectivity is troublesome,
but when read as a lesbian love story, the firs-person [sic!] narration is appropriate, even
desirable”. In addition, Cotter (2014: 1) quotes Margaret Carter (1989: 36) who observes that
“two factors, the distortion of memory and Laura’s affection for Carmilla, allow the reader to
question the narrator’s reliability”. Laura also directly alludes to these concerns by proclaiming
 Künnecke 11

“[j]udge whether I say truth” (Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu 2003: 2). Laura’s feelings for Carmilla,
even after her demise later in the story, are ambiguous (cf. Cotter 2014: 6) and frequently
alluded to throughout the story: “[To] this hour the image of Carmilla returns to memory with
ambiguous alterations – sometimes playful, languid, beautiful girl; sometimes the writhing
fiend I saw in the ruined church; and often from a reverie I have started, fancying I heard the
light step of Carmilla at the drawing-room door” (Le Fanu 2003: 102f). In search for an
explanation of Carmilla’s strong display of affection, Laura even ponders the possibility of
Carmilla cross-dressing and actually being a young male suitor in disguise: “I had read in old
storybooks of such things. What if a boyish lover had found his way into the house, and sought
to prosecute his suit in masquerade, with the assistance of a clever old adventuress. But there
were many things against this hypothesis, highly interesting as it was to my vanity” (Le Fanu:
2003: 29f). Laura, living in a traditional, rural and isolated environment, is arguably ignorant
of the possibility of (tabooed) same-sex desire. Her confusion by Carmilla’s behaviour is
coherent with her upbringing as this might be the first time she is confronted by rather explicit
displays of romantic affection:

[…] my strange and beautiful companion would take my hand and hold it with a fond
pressure, renewed again and again; blushing softly, gazing in my face with languid and
burning eyes, and breathing so fast that her dress rose and fell with the tumultuous
respiration. It was like the ardor of a lover; it embarrassed me [emphasis added]; it was
hateful and yet over-powering; and with gloating eyes she drew me to her, and her hot
lips traveled [sic!] along my cheek in kisses; and she would whisper, almost in sobs,
"You are mine, you shall be mine, you and I are one for ever." Then she had thrown
herself back in her chair, with her small hands over her eyes, leaving me trembling. (Le
Fanu 2003: 29)

In contrast to Dracula the setting in Carmilla is Styria, Austria although Laura’s father
originated from England. As English appears to be her first language, she and her father
identify mainly as British. By moving the setting to Austria – away from England where the
majority of his audience was located – Le Fanu was most likely able to enjoy more artistic
freedom with his tale as direct connections to England, thus possible accusations, would be
harder to make. Also in terms of displays of tabooed female sexuality, portraying the sexually
active character Carmilla as a vampire (a monster) gave Le Fanu the freedom to include
undertones of female homosexuality and lesbianism which would have been near impossible
otherwise (and undoubtedly detrimental for sales of the piece during the time). Amy Leal
(2007: 38) argues in relation to Le Fanu’s Carmilla that “Queen Victoria did not believe
lesbianism existed, but the sexually conflicted Le Fanu was well aware of it and used names
 Künnecke 12

and their absence in the text to suggest his subversive subject matter without spelling
everything out”. Due to the separation of male and female spheres, women were often in
(female) company of each other. Le Fanu’s concrete intentions are hard to determine as several
motivations for the display of this specific form of female sexuality may apply: On the one
hand it may be argued that Le Fanu intended to show – in anti-feminist fashion – the danger
of liberated active female sexuality as the consequences of this sexuality are presented through
the vampire threat. On the other hand, if one assumes that Le Fanu veiled his parabola through
the fictional vampire creature then his mocking criticism may be addressed to British society
and its perception of femininity and sexuality as dangerous. Another option might be
references to the socio-political environment and issues in Ireland during the first half of the
19th century and, thus, a subtle political critique addressed to England.
The introduction of the vampire to the scene is essentially different to Dracula’s direct
intrusion into London. Wit and cleverness pave the path for Carmilla, also known as Mircalla
or Millarca, to enter the house of her hosts – in the literal sense of proprietor and also as the
provider of nourishment as in parasitism – as she is politely invited to stay. Based on the
assumption that the act of vampiric consumption is a highly sexual process, most vampire
works, including the later Dracula, feature the vampire/victim relationship mainly in
heterosexual or sometimes bisexual constellations, Carmilla constructs its vampire as
exclusively homosexual and in thirst for young female blood only. Carmilla’s desire for blood
is, however, not her sole driving force as she displays strong emotionality and sexual attraction
towards some of her potential victims such as Laura. These human features are in accordance
with the overall perception of women as highly emotional during the Victorian era. In spite of
Carmilla’s focus on Laura during the story, the reader also learns that Carmilla feasts upon
other young girls in the area, thus, undermining strictly monogamous principles of
relationships: “She is the poor girl who fancied she saw a ghost a fortnight ago, and has been
dying ever since, till yesterday, when she expired” (Le Fanu 2003: 31). In contrast to
Carmilla’s apparent emotional investment in Laura she appears to also entertain relationships
that are more physically focused on the sexually charged act of feeding without strong
emotional investment. In chapter four, Laura and Carmilla witness the funeral procession of a
young girl “who fancied she saw a ghost a fortnight ago” – possibly of vampiric origin – and
Carmilla cold-heartedly explains: “’I don't trouble my head about peasants. I don't know who
she is,’ answered Carmilla, with a flash from her fine eyes’” (Le Fanu 2003: 31). In connection
to this passage in the story, Leal (2007: 43) observes that “Carmilla feeds on peasant girls but
dismisses them haughtily and does not seek to form a lasting bond with them. They are merely
 Künnecke 13

there for consumption, like peasants in a feudal system, and she sees only those of her own
titled family as equals.” Leal (2007: 39f) argues that Carmilla and Laura may even be related
as the surname of Laura’s mother is (perhaps strategically) never mentioned, thereby
introducing a strong incestuous tone to their relationship. Her argument is highly interesting
in the light of Laura’s mother’s early undetailed death for which Carmilla might or might not
have been responsible.
Carmilla’s active and sometimes polygamous sexuality places her more in the domain
of patriarchal male sexuality than within the traditional frame of female sexual passiveness.
Sheridan Le Fanu’s work provides the reader with an interesting form of homosociality which
has been primarily applied (but not exclusively) to the male/male configuration in queer
theoretical treatises. In Carmilla the focus lies predominantly on the relationship between
women although male characters (Laura’s father, Doctor Spielsberg and General Spielsdorf)
are present in parts of the story. In the beginning of the tale, Laura explains her living situation
and it becomes clear that most of her contacts and acquaintances throughout her life have been
and still are female: either governesses who have always been part of her life or “young lady
friends” (Le Fanu 2003: 4) who visit her occasionally. Her father, “the kindest man on earth,
but growing old” (Le Fanu 2003: 3), is the only constant male figure and influence in her life,
thus, underlining the overall (female) homosocial configuration of her environment. In terms
of biographical connections and references of Le Fanu in Carmilla, Leal (2007: 48) notes
“Carmilla's unholy appetites are cruel indeed, however, and perhaps suggest the author's own
fears of sexuality. Though Le Fanu had four children, several biographers have suggested that
he was himself tormented by same-sex desires”. After his wife’s death in 1858, Le Fanu was
apparently haunted by guilt whether their marriage and love was honest and he ceased to write
fiction for several years until 1861 (cf. Leal 2007: 48).
Eventually both stories, Dracula and Carmilla, provide a clear catharsis at the end where
patriarchal heteronormativity and male hegemony are restored. Through the destruction and
solution of the vampire threat through male supremacy, threatening non-reproductive female
sexuality also ends and regains its repressed shadowy status. Referring to Le Fanu and his
work Carmilla – yet applicable to most works of fiction involving deviations from the
heterosexual norm during the Victorian era – Leal (2007: 48f) aptly argues that “Le Fanu could
not, however, have acceptably ended his story any other way than by suppressing the lesbian
vampire who defiled male authority; to support homosexuality openly in Victorian England
was to risk imprisonment and moral outrage”.
 Künnecke 14

4. Conclusion

In conclusion, both Bram Stoker’s Dracula from 1897 and Sheridan Le Fanu’s Carmilla from
1872 offer interesting possibilities of queer reading despite the fact that concepts of queer
theory in the post-modern 21st century sense were yet to be formed nearly a century later. As
assessed, both works provide moments of suspension where traditional patriarchal
heteronormativity, male hegemony and gender stereotypes are temporarily abrogated in favour
of tabooed deviations from the sexual norm. However, in the end the former status quo is
reinstated and the threat of non-male dominated heterosexuality is resolved. In the light of
Victorian morality and perceptions of sexuality, however, these moments of suspension should
not be undervalued as they allow anticipative insights of what could be considered historical
queer moments. Dracula portrays glimpses of empowering forms of femininity as the
ascending political new women strived to challenge traditional male-hegemony in order to
realise more rights for women in this early form of feminism. In the context of British
imperialism and politics Dracula addresses social anxieties in subtle fashions, yet is able to
retain its appeal to post-modern recipients even a century after its publication. Forms of
suggestive (male and female) homosexuality, as well as gender untypical behaviour (as
sexually passive men and sexually active women) are featured and allow the reader to witness
the confusion these aberrations from traditional heteronormative sexuality and the gender
binary brought about. Due to their distances of time since their publications both works bear
and abundance of research possibilities as much of their meaning can only be inferred from
what lies hidden between the lines. Although views and opinions on gender, gender behaviour,
gender relations and sexuality have arguably changed drastically since the Victorian era, one
thing remains true throughout the centuries: the blood is – and shall remain – the life (cf. Stoker
1994: 171).

6011 words
 Künnecke 15

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