The Incestuous Nature of Classic Horror
Sigmund Freud's "Oedipus Complex" in The Vampyre and Frankenstein.
“Horror is the means to examine sexuality.”
- James B. Twitchell
Monsters are a common element in Gothic literature; however, they are frequently misconstrued in what makes them truly horrifying. In The Vampyre by John William Polidori, Lord Ruthven is—as the title suggests—a vampire, but it is not just his bloodsucking, murderous ways that are meant to inflict fear in the novel’s readers. The same goes for Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in that the creature’s appearance and actions alone are not designed to frighten, but rather what he represents.
For instance, the authors of these stories incorporate a few concepts that originate from Sigmund Freud, specifically his ideas surrounding the Oedipus Complex. In both The Vampyre and Frankenstein, Polidori and Shelley utilize Oedipal relationships to create the sensation of horror.
The Father of Psychoanalysis
Freud believes that the human personality is comprised of three elements—the id, the ego, and the superego. The way that these components develop and interact with one another determines an individual’s personality.
First is the id, which finds its source in the “pleasure principle,” or the incessant demand for instant gratification of all needs, wants, and desires. Following that is the ego, which builds upon the id by operating under the “reality principle”—satisfies the id’s wants in both a realistic and a socially appropriate manner. The superego provides guidelines for an individual’s decision-making, centered on their internalized moral standards and the specific ideals that arise from their parents and their surrounding society. These elements are constantly working together, and based on their “ego strength,” an individual’s personality is formed.
With this concept comes another by Freud, stemming from the dynamics between mother, father, and child. The Oedipus Complex can be best described in this scenario—a young boy first relates to his father by “identifying himself with him” and relates to his mother through object-cathexis, usually by her breast; however, the boy’s “sexual wishes” surrounding his mother begin to take form, causing his father to act as an “obstacle” to the boy’s desires (Freud 27). It soon morphs into the boy’s longing to remove his father from the picture entirely and take his place beside his mother.
“An ambivalent attitude to his father and an object-relation of a solely affectionate kind to his mother make up the content of the simple positive Oedipus complex in a boy” (27).
Quenching Insatiable Desires
In his article, James B. Twitchell discusses the anatomy of horror, and how one of its defining factors falls in line with that of Freud’s principles. In the “vampire saga”—which would subsequently include The Vampyre—there is a connection to Freud’s concept of the id.
As previously mentioned, the id focuses on and is driven by one’s “pleasure principle,” which are the insatiable desires and needs that one requires immediate gratification for. In terms of vampires, it is the bloodlust that causes these characters to revert to their infant selves who demand instant satisfaction, having gone completely blind to their instincts. An adolescent man might feel a connection to Polidori’s story in that he views Ruthven as a sort-of role model to “acting out” on ones hidden yearnings—he is a dominant figure; peculiar yet sought after by others because of this mysterious aura—and the man may relate to such qualities. With this opens the realm of sexual desires, more-so, the Oedipal dilemma.
Tying back to Freud, there remains this metaphorical man who feels drawn to these vampiric tales—not only because of his relation to expressing such suppressed desires, but because of what is buried even deeper. There is a connection between the “virginal” mother conveyed in Freud’s Oedipus Complex to that of the women that these vampires seek out to drain, especially in terms of “conquering” them.
The most potent symbol that alludes to this is the vampire bite itself, thus representing the supplemental sex act. These creatures—like Ruthven—strive to be the only man in their victims’ lives; therefore, once they have finished with them, they are killed, ruining them for any man who may have crossed their paths in the future.
With this, there are also those young women that feel attracted to these tales. They view themselves in the victims who have fallen prey to the vampire’s charm, willingly and vaguely consenting to the “bite”—Miss Aubrey married Ruthven, though not realizing exactly who he was, but nonetheless allowing him access to her neck.
“[Ruthven] woos the young man’s sister... the sister is married and immediately becomes the vampire’s victim” (Switzer 109).
It is this act that inducts these women into the domain of sexuality, all by the hands of the older man—the vampire, or in a Freudian sense, the father. This is where the “horror” comes into play because it is not always the jump scares or gruesome terminology that leave these goosebumps on the reader’s back, but rather the knowledge of what is forbidden.
In the case of these Oedipal fantasies, “it seems that if we want knowledge of tabooed sex, especially incest, what we must experience along the way is horror” (Twitchell 45). The dynamics of these relationships are built on a foundation of frowned-upon ideals, thus horrifying the reader.
Male vs. Female Horror
It is not these fantasies alone that evoke this “horror,” though; instead, “horror is the means to examine sexuality” (45). This can be better expressed in Shelley’s Frankenstein, especially in terms of its androgyny—both masculine and feminine horror have been placed on the backburner, creating this hodgepodge of a narrative.
To start, from its male perspective, there is a focus on what the monster does. From its first publication, much like many other Gothic novels, there lacks any explicit talk of sexuality or incestuous acts; however, upon further examination, a few are able to slip between the cracks. For instance, Victor’s relationship with Elizabeth falls in line with that of an Oedipal one because she is a part of the family, though different versions vary in what that prior relationship was. This incestuous nature is literal—in some versions, the term “cousin” is even directly applied—but in true Freudian fashion, there is much more lurking beneath the surface.
Elizabeth is clearly not Victor’s mother; however, the way that his late mother regarded Elizabeth, describing her as a “pretty present” that she had for her son, refers to this reappearing motif. His mother’s own dying wish was that Victor marry this girl; this idyllic woman who is so generously being handed to him. Elizabeth might as well be adorned in wrapping paper with a big bow on top, his mother’s seal of approval. Victor dreads his wedding day—for the monster’s threats; his egotistical belief of his fast-approaching demise—but mainly for the taboo relationship that has been thrust upon him.
There is also the nightmare that Victor falls victim to, where Elizabeth’s body somehow morphs into that of his mother’s—“her features appeared to change, and I thought that I held the corpse of my dead mother in my arms”—thus tying into Freud’s Oedipus Complex (Shelley, ch. 5). There is the assumption that deep-down, Victor was aware of his bride’s impending death; however, he allowed the monster—which is arguably an extension of himself—to extinguish his forbidden desires. The monster is always there, carrying out the acts that Victor himself could only dream of.
To analyze the novel from the female perspective is to briefly dive into Mary Shelley’s life. There seems to be a focus on this “paradox of birth”—she herself was born of an illegitimate marriage that ended with her mother’s death, and she also birthed a sickly and illegitimate daughter that died too. It was around this time that Frankenstein was born, acting as a study into how life is created and the female anxieties that come with it.
To Shelley, horror is not defined by an evil man pursuing an innocent woman, but rather the shared experiences of those within her sex—everything that comes with childbirth. In this scenario, the monster is a child, thus making Victor his father; however, just like Victor and Elizabeth’s relationship, it is not right. This creation of life is wrong:
“Life here is being made without a partner, without copulation, without sex” (Twitchell 59).
With this, it is clear that the “horror” of this novel is a reflection of male impulses and their fear of incest, while also focusing on a female’s impulses and their anxiety surrounding childbirth.
Final Thoughts…
Both The Vampyre and Frankenstein possess examples of Oedipal relations—whether they be more literal, like the incestuous nature between Victor and Elizabeth, or metaphorical, like a vampire to its prey. Either way, these Freudian concepts take hold in these stories, almost altering their meanings into something even more horrifying.
On the surface, these novels reflect the heinous actions of a “monster;” however, it is the underlying themes that are intended to truly scare the reader. Both Polidori and Shelley recognize this, and it is this ability to do so that causes these old novels to continue thriving today, as if they were not born themselves over two-hundred years ago.
Burke, Edmund. “A Philosophical Inquiry Into The Origin Of Our Ideas Of The Sublime And Beautiful.” P.F. Collier & Son Company, 1909-14.
Freud, Sigmund. “The Ego and the Super-Ego (Ego Ideal).” The Ego and the Id, pp. 22-47.
Polidori, John William. The Vampyre. The Project Gutenburg, 2002, http://www.gutenberg.org/files/6087/6087-h/6087-h.htm.
Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein. The Project Gutenburg, 1993, https://www.gutenberg.org/files/84/84-h/84-h.htm.
Switzer, Richard. “Lord Ruthwen and the Vampires.” The French Review, vol. 22, no. 2, 1995, pp. 107-112, http://www.jstor.org/stable/382161.
Twitchell, James B. “‘Frankenstein’ and the Anatomy of Horror.” The Georgia Review, vol. 37, no. 1, 1983, pp. 41-78, http://www.jstor.org/stable/41397330.