Let's Read: Carmilla!
Let's Read: Carmilla!
Part Four: Chapter Thirteen through Chapter Sixteen.
This is Part Four of Let’s Read: Carmilla. See this post for more information & a reading schedule.
Previously: Part One, Part Two, and Part Three.
Hi, friends,
Happy Sunday, and happy Final Installment of Carmilla Day!
You know how last week I was all excited about seeing how this would wrap up? Yeah, well… long story short, it was Slightly Anticlimactic.
And when I say slightly, I mean extremely.
CHAPTER XIII. The Woodman
In which the General and Laura’s father have a Who’s On First moment about decapitation.
• The General continues his story, and as expected—expected by us, I mean, not so much by the characters, because I’m really starting to think that they don’t understand how stories work—Millarca’s behavior pretty much exactly mirrors Carmilla’s behavior, including her nighttime routine of locking herself in, etc., etc. And, of course, the General’s niece’s health begins to fail right around the same time that she starts complaining of nightmares involving Millarca, of cold breezes, and of the sensation of needles piercing her just below her throat:
You may guess how strangely I felt as I heard my own symptoms so exactly described in those which had been experienced by the poor girl who, but for the catastrophe which followed, would have been at that moment a visitor at my father’s chateau. You may suppose, also, how I felt as I heard him detail habits and mysterious peculiarities which were, in fact, those of our beautiful guest, Carmilla!
• They arrive at the abandoned village and castle ruins, and the General shifts into Dramatic Tour Guide mode:
“And this was once the palatial residence of the Karnsteins!” said the old General at length, as from a great window he looked out across the village, and saw the wide, undulating expanse of forest. “It was a bad family, and here its bloodstained annals were written,” he continued. “It is hard that they should, after death, continue to plague the human race with their atrocious lusts. That is the chapel of the Karnsteins, down there.”
• I don’t know, man, I think that A) rich and powerful people LOVE talking about themselves, and B) that the peasants have better things to do:
These rustics preserve the local traditions of great families, whose stories die out among the rich and titled so soon as the families themselves become extinct.
But then again, what are the stories that we tend to return to again and again? Tragedies involving people with money and power. So maybe he’s a little more right than I want him to be? I dunno.
[Minor digression: I’ve been getting caught up on the You’re Wrong About podcast, and they touch on this a bit in the intro of their first episode of their multi-part dive into the Diana Spencer story.]
[Second minor digression: This reminds me, I’ve been meaning to watch Succession.]
• The General FINALLY gets around to verbalizing his plans, and… he’s pretty hardcore:
“I mean, to decapitate the monster,” he answered, with a fierce flush, and a stamp that echoed mournfully through the hollow ruin, and his clenched hand was at the same moment raised, as if it grasped the handle of an axe, while he shook it ferociously in the air.
“What?” exclaimed my father, more than ever bewildered.
“To strike her head off.”
“Cut her head off!”
At this point, I’d really like to know where Laura’s father thought this was all going? Like. He is SO SHOCKED by all this, but for real. What on earth was his theory, if he had one???
• The General questions a nearby woodman about the death of the village, and said woodman very frankly and matter-of-factly explains that they had a vampire problem:
“How came the village to be deserted?” asked the General.
“It was troubled by revenants, sir; several were tracked to their graves, there detected by the usual tests, and extinguished in the usual way, by decapitation, by the stake, and by burning; but not until many of the villagers were killed.
He follows that up with a story about how the last remaining vampire in the area was dealt with, and you know how in camp horror movies, there’s usually a skinny-dipping scene where the killer steals the clothes and then the naked campers are running around trying to find their clothes WHILE being stalked?
Yeah, so that was basically the vampire hunter’s technique.
The vampire comes out of his grave, sets aside his burial clothes, and goes into town. (Naked?? Sadly, the woodsman doesn’t elaborate.) The vampire hunter swipes the clothes and uses them—once the vampire comes back from his meal, too bad for whatever villager he killed that night, I guess—to lure the vampire to the top of a tower, then just… brains him with his sword and throws his body off the tower and then heads down the stairs and decapitates him.
No explanation of why all that had to take place at the top of the tower, I guess the vampire hunter just had Dramatic Flair.
• Unfortunately, while he’s got lots of info on that front, the forester has no idea where Mircalla’s tomb was, or whether or not her body is even in it:
The forester shook his head, and smiled.
“Not a soul living could tell you that now,” he said; “besides, they say her body was removed; but no one is sure of that either.”
CHAPTER XIV. The Meeting
In which a medical specialist is a huge baby.
• The General continues his story—no, he’s NOT DONE YET OMG—and talks about how he called in a big-city physician who promptly got into it with the local doctor. I’d say long story short, but as this dude has spread his story out over, like, forty-seven chapters, there is no reasonable way to claim that, but I’ll condense:
He gives the niece one or two days to live, max.
Despite the timeframe, he REFUSES TO VERBALIZE HIS THEORY to the General,
and instead, writes it out and tells him NOT TO READ IT.
He is to call for a clergyman, and only read it once the clergyman has arrived
BUT if a clergyman is not available, he can read the letter solo.
I love this both because it’s totally spineless AND totally understandable? The doctor is like… I KNOW WHAT’S WRONG, BUT I ALSO KNOW HOW YOU’RE GOING TO REACT WHEN I TELL YOU AND EVERYTHING IS UNCOMFORTABLE BYEEEEE.
Kind of like how Michael tells Andy that Angela’s having an affair with Dwight as he is LITERALLY driving away:
• No clergyman is available, so he reads the letter:
It was monstrous enough to have consigned him to a madhouse. He said that the patient was suffering from the visits of a vampire! The punctures which she described as having occurred near the throat, were, he insisted, the insertion of those two long, thin, and sharp teeth which, it is well known, are peculiar to vampires; and there could be no doubt, he added, as to the well-defined presence of the small livid mark which all concurred in describing as that induced by the demon’s lips, and every symptom described by the sufferer was in exact conformity with those recorded in every case of a similar visitation.
• He thinks the whole thing is absurd, but feels that he has no other options, so he follows the instructions included in the letter. This is long, but it’s the Good Stuff, so I’m including it all:
“I concealed myself in the dark dressing room, that opened upon the poor patient’s room, in which a candle was burning, and watched there till she was fast asleep. I stood at the door, peeping through the small crevice, my sword laid on the table beside me, as my directions prescribed, until, a little after one, I saw a large black object, very ill-defined, crawl, as it seemed to me, over the foot of the bed, and swiftly spread itself up to the poor girl’s throat, where it swelled, in a moment, into a great, palpitating mass.
“For a few moments I had stood petrified. I now sprang forward, with my sword in my hand. The black creature suddenly contracted towards the foot of the bed, glided over it, and, standing on the floor about a yard below the foot of the bed, with a glare of skulking ferocity and horror fixed on me, I saw Millarca. Speculating I know not what, I struck at her instantly with my sword; but I saw her standing near the door, unscathed. Horrified, I pursued, and struck again. She was gone; and my sword flew to shivers against the door.
“I can’t describe to you all that passed on that horrible night. The whole house was up and stirring. The specter Millarca was gone. But her victim was sinking fast, and before the morning dawned, she died.”
• Just as he FINALLY finishes his story, Carmilla shows up… and I know this is going to blow your mind, but the General RECOGNIZES HER:
I was just about to rise and speak, and nodded smiling, in answer to her peculiarly engaging smile; when with a cry, the old man by my side caught up the woodman’s hatchet, and started forward. On seeing him a brutalized change came over her features. It was an instantaneous and horrible transformation, as she made a crouching step backwards. Before I could utter a scream, he struck at her with all his force, but she dived under his blow, and unscathed, caught him in her tiny grasp by the wrist. He struggled for a moment to release his arm, but his hand opened, the axe fell to the ground, and the girl was gone.
I’m interested that she appears to have some sort of super-strength?
So now our whole cast of characters know What’s What, and we’ve only got two chapters to go, so I guess everything’s going to wind up extremely quickly? Assuming this book has an ending that wraps everything up, I mean?
Movie interlude: Two Carmilla adaptations!
I’m slowly realizing that almost all lesbian vampire movies could just be called Doomed Girls in Long Dresses Running at Night.
Carmilla (Emily Harris, 2019): This one is quiet and arty and absolutely beautiful to look at, but as it leaves the vampire part ambiguous—you see Carmilla in a mirror, she handles silver and a cross with no problem, you never see her feed on our heroine—it is ultimately, story-wise, a WICKED DOWNER. Spoiler: There will be no running off into the the moonlight forever for these two.
The characterization of the three central female characters—the third is Lara’s governess, Miss Fontaine—is EXCELLENT, and I loved the very very quiet power struggles between the girls and Miss Fontaine, as well as their subtle moments of rebellion. Carmilla is wonderfully smirky and knowing, and regardless of whether or not she’s an actual vampire—I don’t think she was, but again, it’s ambiguous—it’s completely understandable why Miss Fontaine would find her so threatening.
Carmilla (Gabrielle Beaumont, 1989): Executive produced by Shelley Duvall! Starring Ione Skye, Meg Tilly, and Roddy McDowall! It’s… not good!
Except for the to-be-expected awesomeness of Meg Tilly—which includes a scene where she floats upside-down and feeds from Ione Skye, but her giant dress defies gravity and continues to keep her ankles primly covered—it’s mostly pretty dull. There’s one completely out-of-left-field plot twist, but the movie’s so short that they don’t really do anything with it?
CHAPTER XV. Ordeal and Execution
In which Le Fanu hits fast-forward.
• Out of nowhere shows up an acquaintance of the General’s called, appropriately, the Baron. (Hardly anyone in this book has an actual name?)
The Baron appears to be a vampire hunter, because he has some old paperwork and does some math and almost immediately FINDS CARMILLA’S TOMB, which, like, if he did it that quickly it doesn’t seem like it was all that hidden? We’re talking ten minutes, max.
The General is ready to GET THINGS MOVING:
The old General, though not I fear given to the praying mood, raised his hands and eyes to heaven, in mute thanksgiving for some moments.
“Tomorrow,” I heard him say; “the commissioner will be here, and the Inquisition will be held according to law.”
• They head home—picking up a priest on the way—and when they get back, Laura shows that she’s got a lot more in common with her father than I’d realized. And by that, I mean that she’s a tad dim. THIS IS VERY SIMPLE MATH, LAURA! :
But my satisfaction was changed to dismay, on discovering that there were no tidings of Carmilla. Of the scene that had occurred in the ruined chapel, no explanation was offered to me, and it was clear that it was a secret which my father for the present determined to keep from me.
The sinister absence of Carmilla made the remembrance of the scene more horrible to me. The arrangements for the night were singular. Two servants, and Madame were to sit up in my room that night; and the ecclesiastic with my father kept watch in the adjoining dressing room.
The priest had performed certain solemn rites that night, the purport of which I did not understand any more than I comprehended the reason of this extraordinary precaution taken for my safety during sleep.
• The next day, Mircalla/Carmilla is executed:
The grave of the Countess Mircalla was opened; and the General and my father recognized each his perfidious and beautiful guest, in the face now disclosed to view. The features, though a hundred and fifty years had passed since her funeral, were tinted with the warmth of life. Her eyes were open; no cadaverous smell exhaled from the coffin. The two medical men, one officially present, the other on the part of the promoter of the inquiry, attested the marvelous fact that there was a faint but appreciable respiration, and a corresponding action of the heart. The limbs were perfectly flexible, the flesh elastic; and the leaden coffin floated with blood, in which to a depth of seven inches, the body lay immersed.
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.
It takes Laura a few days to process it all, but she’s no longer ill and no one is biting her in the middle of the night any more, so now she’s a Believer.
I… you guys, this is all just so anticlimactic??
She follows up this description by explaining that her father has a copy of the report of the Imperial Commission, and while I certainly love me some bureaucratic nonsense around paranormal goings-on, this is just Not It.
CHAPTER XVI. Conclusion
In which we get some backstory and some lore… and then the book ends.
• Kind of like the last few minutes of Psycho, when we get that voiceover talking about Norman Bates’ history and mental state just in time for the movie to end, we get a bit of Vampire Lore in the last chapter:
I may mention, in passing, that the deadly pallor attributed to that sort of revenants, is a mere melodramatic fiction. They present, in the grave, and when they show themselves in human society, the appearance of healthy life.
I really did not expect to get so irritated by how Sheridan Le Fanu wound this all up, but here we are. Good grief.
• It doesn’t sound like Le Fanu’s vampires have much interest—or maybe even the ability?—to deliberately turn their victims into vampires:
How they escape from their graves and return to them for certain hours every day, without displacing the clay or leaving any trace of disturbance in the state of the coffin or the cerements, has always been admitted to be utterly inexplicable. The amphibious existence of the vampire is sustained by daily renewed slumber in the grave. Its horrible lust for living blood supplies the vigor of its waking existence. 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.
• Apparently Carmilla HAD to stick to anagrams of her original name, because these are… the rules, at least for her?:
The vampire is, apparently, subject, in certain situations, to special conditions. In the particular instance of which I have given you a relation, Mircalla seemed to be limited to a name which, if not her real one, should at least reproduce, without the omission or addition of a single letter, those, as we say, anagrammatically, which compose it.
Carmilla did this; so did Millarca.
Like, I get that names are Important when it comes to magic and fantasy and so on, but I just… this anagram rule is the dorkiest thing I’ve ever heard.
• This is one of those examples of Vampire Lore that just doesn’t work for me logically, because eventually you’d run out of people to eat. And also now the vampires ARE turning their victims into vampires??? OMG MAKE UP YOUR MIND, SHERIDAN:
Assume, at starting, a territory perfectly free from that pest. How does it begin, and how does it multiply itself? I will tell you. A person, more or less wicked, puts an end to himself. A suicide, under certain circumstances, becomes a vampire. That specter visits living people in their slumbers; they die, and almost invariably, in the grave, develop into vampires.
• Regardless, this is the book’s explanation of how Mircalla became a vampire—I guess we’re throwing her story about the night of the dance out the window—and then her living lover couldn’t bear the idea of her body being subjected to an exhumation and ritual execution, so he destroyed her monument so that the authorities wouldn’t be able to find it. In his old age, he started feeling guilty, so he wrote up a confession and drew a map and that’s how the Baron knew right where to find her.
• One last little bit of Vampire Lore, and I like this one:
“One sign of the vampire is the power of the hand. The slender hand of Mircalla closed like a vice of steel on the General’s wrist when he raised the hatchet to strike. But its power is not confined to its grasp; it leaves a numbness in the limb it seizes, which is slowly, if ever, recovered from.”
• ALSO WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO CARMILLA’S PRETEND MOTHER?? That seems like a pretty major loose end?
• I always complain about the ending of Stephen King’s novels—they almost always feel to me like he’s gotten bored and Over It and wants to finish writing as quickly as possible so he can do something else—and this is TOTALLY giving me the same vibe.
That said, the very last paragraph is great:
The following Spring my father took me a tour through Italy. We remained away for more than a year. It was long before the terror of recent events subsided; and to this hour the image of Carmilla returns to memory with ambiguous alternations—sometimes the 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.
Up next, well… I’ve got something in mind, but want to make sure my ducks are in a row before saying anything about it. In the MEANTIME, if you have recapping suggestions, let me know. Always here for weird old Gothics and horror stories.
Talk to you soon,
Leila