Author: Rachel Glick

The thing that really stuck with me about Swinburne is his use of violence, gore, and social taboos in association with beauty, desire, and eroticism. I think this is most clear in “The Leper.” The body of a once beautiful woman is lusted over by her faithful scribe. It’s disturbing, but Swinburne does a wonderful job of conveying the emotions this guy is feeling. The scribe even knows that it is wrong, stating “though God always hated me / And hates me now…” (lines 14-15). He’s even glad that the girl is dead, because that is the only way he could ever have her the way he wants. The Penny Dreadful clip we watched in class conveyed this same dichotomy: the conflation of gore and violence with beauty and emotion.

NBC’s Hannibal uses a similar technique in the way they present food. The show is an adaptation of the novel The Red Dragon by Thomas Harris. It’s a prequel to the popular film Silence of the Lambs. Hannibal Lecter is a respected psychiatrist aiding an FBI crime scene investigator, Will Graham, who has an unusual empathy disorder. The show follows the complex relationship between the two, with Hannibal manipulating Will as he tries to solve increasingly disturbing crimes and unknowingly hunts for Lecter himself. The show’s creator, Bryan Fuller, was not shy with violence or gore. It’s a disturbing show in many ways, but not just because of the blood and guts. One of the most disturbing aspects of the show is the beautiful, mouthwatering food design.

The audience knows Hannibal is a cannibal, so it’s disturbing just see the characters unknowingly eating human flesh. But its even more disturbing because it looks so appetizing. Hannibal’s dishes are always exquisite, with rich colors and precise plating, and he presents them as exotic delicacies like foie gras au torchon with figs (see picture) or flambéed lung. A quote from food stylist Janice Poon sums it up perfectly, “My wish is that the food looks so creepy, and so foreboding and so menacing, but appetizing.”

These beautiful meals are reflective of Hannibal himself. He’s almost always dressed in immaculate three-piece suits, always unruffled and emotionless. He sees himself above everyone he interacts with, an all-powerful god playing with people like toys. But as the audience knows, this perfectly composed wardrobe and attitude hide a sinister villain. Hannibal is just like his dishes––creepy and foreboding, but perfectly polished and elegant.

As I mentioned, this is a very bloody and violent show. Hannibal Lecter is not the only villain. Will Graham investigates the most disturbing murders imaginable––from a human totem pole to human cellos to a human fungus garden. It’s not pretty (don’t look up pictures if you’re faint of heart) except that it is. Even if they’re more immediately gross, each crime scene is perfectly laid out just like Hannibal’s meals and suits.

As a viewer you sort of become accustomed to the level of carnage. Each gory shot is set up meticulously. As a result, every other shot becomes suspect. A close up of something perfectly normal, like a cup of coffee or a blooming flower or a fishing lure, becomes disturbing by association. The “deluge of words” that Swinburne uses to overwhelm his readers reminded me of this. The coupling of sensations like disgust and revulsion with fascination and beauty and aesthetic appeal permeates every scene in Hannibal, even when there is no body in sight. Most things are not as they appear––Hannibal’s beautiful meals, his suits, Hannibal himself. So when something really is just a cup of coffee or a flower or a fishing lure, you’re not really sure anymore.

Examples of Hannibal’s meals: http://www.vulture.com/2014/03/see-every-food-porn-shot-from-nbc-hannibal/slideshow/

Examples of the cinematography (Warning: this one contains images of some of the crime scenes): http://www.buzzfeed.com/danieldalton/i-gave-you-a-rare-gift#.tyORWJkv4

Quote from Janice Poon is from this article: http://www.buzzfeed.com/emofly/hannibal-food-secrets-janice-poon#.pdMlxBYZJ

The Island of Doctor Moreau and Dracula are both overtly concerned with anxieties about colonization and reverse invasion. Prendick stumbles upon a colony of “civilized” animals created by Dr. Moreau. Van Helsing and his friends struggle to ward off a foreign enemy infecting good English people with an age-old curse. It is clear in both novels that the foreign, the other, and the damned are a threat to British security.

The Picture of Dorian Gray doesn’t really seem to fit into this theme of invasion and conquering. However, one passage in Chapter XIX stood out to me. Lord Henry says to Dorian, concerning country life, “There are no temptations there. That is the reason why people who live out of town are so absolutely uncivilized. Civilization is not by any means an easy thing to attain to. There are only two ways by which man can reach it. One is by being cultured, the other by being corrupt” (Wilde 215*).

Lord Henry’s theory of civilization could be applied to Dr. Moreau. If “out of town” can refer to anywhere outside of England (the Island), then the British must spread their “culture” to civilize their colonized people (Moreau’s animals). The way the colonists saw it, they were spreading the right religion, the right government, the right customs and ideas to the unfortunate people who were not born British. Moreau creates his civilization by introducing human aspects into animals. He’s civilizing the animals by introducing them to his culture. (I’m using “culture” here to mean a form of societal structure, not to mean the arts, music, etc. that Lord Henry probably meant. The Beast-People form their own governed society, following strict laws and practically worshipping their creator/ruler. It’s a mini-England.) Montgomery also has a hand in their civilization. He blurs the line between Lord Henry’s culture and corruption by introducing the creatures to alcohol. He says to the beast-people, “Drink and be men!…Moreau forgot this; this is the last touch. Drink, I tell you!” (Wells 84). The last step in making the animals men, civilizing them, is corrupting them, offering them temptation.

Count Dracula invades England to establish himself in a new society. He wants to create a new generation of vampires, starting with Lucy. He’s colonizing England and spreading his culture to the greatest city in the world, London. However, he does this exclusively by corrupting his victims, turning them into blood-sucking monsters. Dracula is also linked with various temptations. His appearance is androgynous and though he only ever preys on women, he is a constant threat to the men. Dracula’s threat is not only that he can corrupt people’s souls, but also that he breaks gender and sexual mores. He tempts the already civilized people of England to a new civilization with different rules.

So what does this say about Dorian Gray? He is definitely “cultured,” being a wealthy white man in London society. But he’s also corrupt––his portrait is evidence of that. Wilde makes it clear that Dorian is not the only rich and corrupted man in London. Lord Henry leads Dorian down this path and then Dorian leads many more young men there. What does it say about the civilization that the wealthy, powerful people are all corrupt? And that they seek to spread their corruption to others? For once the anxiety is not about a foreign culture ruining British culture. What if British culture is inherently corrupt already?

*I have a different edition of The Picture of Dorian Gray so the page number may be off. This quote is right at the beginning of chapter 19.

We discussed how the trust placed in Van Helsing is rather unusual given the fact that he is foreign, Catholic, and educated about vampires. He fits the description of a Victorian villain but Stoker’s English characters never seem to doubt him. I think another feature that could be added to that list is his knowledge and use of blood transfusions.

The first transfusions were between animals in the 1650s, usually between dogs, and resulted in the death of the donor dog. Richard Lower, who led many of these experiments, described the painful procedure in detail (Lower). He performed the first successful xenotransfusions in the 1660s. Obviously, there was still a lot unknown about blood at this time. Scientists were curious about what was actually transferred in a blood transfusion. Many thought there would be psychological as well as physical effects. To test this, a mentally ill patient was used as the subject. It was thought that his illness could be cured through transfusion. The blood of a mellow and gentle sheep would be used to “cool” the patient’s temperament (Yale). However, the results were mixed. Public mockery, dissent, and further failures eventually led to the banning of transfusions in England and France for the next 150 years. The practice was still uncommon and mistrusted in the 1800s. Blood types weren’t even discovered until the early 1900s, so transfusions before then were risky for the patient.

Given this historical context, Van Helsing is a little too quick to jump to blood transfusions as a way to save Lucy. I think the success of the four operations is wishful thinking on Stoker’s part. Lucy’s body could have easily rejected the foreign material. Van Helsing’s language also resembles the language of the 17^th century scientists. By the 1890s, they knew about some micromolecules, but Van Helsing still characterizes the blood using abstract terms. He calls Arthur’s blood “bright” (Stoker 132). He emphasizes the need for “brave man’s blood” (Stoker 160). At one point Van Helsing even decides not to follow scientific practice, saying of Arthur, “‘He is so young and strong and of blood so pure that we need not defibrinate it’” (Stoker 133). The transfusion exists in some space between science and magic. Medically, it is helping Lucy–she needs the blood to survive. But it is also strengthening her mentally. The men are giving her their life, their strength, their bravery, their purity.

The descriptions of early pioneers in blood transfusions remind me a little too much of Dr. Moreau, who also made his start in transfusions (Wells 53). Maybe it’s a bit of a stretch, but in this context Van Helsing seems a lot like Dr. Moreau. Of course, he’s not transfusing blood just for fun, but he is pushing the limits of what are acceptable medical practices. Why would he have his own transfusion equipment in a time when transfusions were unusual? Is he even a practicing medical doctor? (Dr. Seward is a little disturbing in this sense as well. He expresses interest in vivisection and laments its poor reputation). Given the anxieties of the period, Van Helsing’s foreignness, religion, and unique knowledge set him up to be a villain. Maybe in another scenario he would be the mad scientist.

Yale, Elizabeth. “First Blood Transfusion: A History.” (2015). http://daily.jstor.org/first-blood-transfusion/

Lower, Richard. “The Method Observed in Transfusing the Bloud Out of One Animal into Another” Philosophical Transactions (1665-1678) 1 (1665):353–358. Web.

The Longman Anthology briefly discusses the history of England in Southeast Europe and the Middle East. I don’t know if they were ever directly involved in Romania, but they did participate in the Crimean War of 1854. This conflict cost England many soldiers, “but made little change in the European balance of power” (1064). Considering England’s ambiguous success and control here, I think it makes total sense that this area is a source of interest and fear. Harker’s journal entries from the first few days of his travel are filled with comparisons to England––the environment, the ethnic groups, the religion, the superstitions, the clothing, the food. Dracula himself says, “‘We are in Transylvania; and Transylvania is not England. Our ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things.’” (28). It’s strange enough to be fascinating to Harker. However, the problem comes with Dracula’s interest in England.

The second chapter emphasizes the obsession Dracula has with Great Britain. Harker is shocked to find books on every subject, “all relating to England and English life and customs and manners” in the semi-ruined castle of the Transylvanian count (26). He repeats several different iterations of “your great England” or “your mighty London” (27). Dracula embodies the 19^th century fear of “reverse invasion,” much like many of the villains in the Sherlock Holmes stories. The thieves, temptresses, and murders are always foreign or somehow associated with a foreign country. There was a fear that some outsider could disrupt English society and culture, corrupt it and manipulate it. Many Gothic novels from the late 18^th century (like Frankenstein, The Mysteries of Udolpho, The Monk, and Vathek) take place in Italy or France or somewhere else in Europe or Asia. They almost never take place in England, because the crimes were too horrifying, the villains too barbaric, and the people too superstitious. These things could never happen in the polite, civilized society of England. (Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey makes fun of this idea). In The Island of Dr. Moreau, part of what disturbs Prendick after returning to England is that he can no longer distinguish between his fellow Brits and the beasts. The screen that holds England apart from the rest of the world has been torn down. Count Dracula is bringing the horror to England. That’s much scarier than reading about a ghostly figure in some ruined mansion in the French Alps. Jonathan Harker and his employer, Hawkins, personally found a house for Dracula in England. Not only is Dracula invading England, he’s doing it with the help of two Englishmen.

One thing that The Longman Anthology made clear was that the end of the 19^th century was riddled with anxiety about the death of Queen Victoria and the end of the British Empire. The century was colored by colonial wars, religious insecurity, and the belief that Britain had a duty to civilize and improve other races. The Island of Dr. Moreau clearly uses these ideas. In the end, with the death of Dr. Moreau (the ruler), comes the fall of society on the island (the empire).

Dr. Moreau is not the first character to use the language of law in the novel. Davis, the drunk, redheaded captain of the Ipecacuanha states, “I am the law here, I tell you––the law and the prophets” (9). Davis is not only the captain but also the owner of the ship. He is the self-declared “king” and therefore has the power to decide exactly who is allowed on his ship, and who (Prendick) is not (14).

Moreau is a monarch-like figure, as well. This can be seen even before Prendick encounters the Beast-People and their Law. After Davis’ insistence that Prendick leave the ship, he turns to his previous savoir, Montgomery, who, “nodded helplessly at the grey-haired man beside him, to indicate his powerlessness to help me” (14). Back in the presence of Moreau, his monarch, Montgomery has no more autonomy. He yields completely to the silent authority of Moreau. When Moreau eventually saves Prendick from his sinking dingy, he reminds the man several times that he was not invited to the island. He is only there because of Moreau’s pity and kindness, and must follow the rules of the land.

The relationship of Moreau and the Beast-People is similar to the relationship between Great Britain and her colonies in the 19^th century. Moreau creates these human-like creatures, but wants them out of his sight. He instills in them the Law, a quasi-religious list of commandments to make them more human, and leaves them mostly alone in their own village. Unlike colonialism, Moreau is not getting goods, or trade, or land from his people. Rather, the people are his goods. I think this can easily represent the “White Man’s burden” that spurred on British imperialism (The Longman Anthology 1064). They felt a duty to spread their own culture and religion throughout the world, for the benefit of lower races. Moreau is creating his own colony of newly civilized people. His justification for this is almost nonexistent, and basically amounts to, “why not?” Wells represents in Moreau the lack of reason that drove British imperialism, or as J. R. Seeley phrased it “We seem…to have conquered and peopled half the world in a fit of absence of mind” (The Longman Anthology 1064).

Moreau’s demise comes at the hands (paws? claws?) of his own creation, the vivisected puma. Despite Prendick’s desperate attempt to maintain humanity in the Beast-People, they inevitably return to their animal ways. Moreau’s civilization could not survive without him there to enforce the Law. As if that’s not symbolic enough, Wells also (sort of) shows us the fall of Captain Davis. Prendick is saved from the island by a small boat drifting ashore. In it are two bodies, one with “a shock of red hair like the captain of the Ipecacuanha” (101). Whether it’s really Davis or not, is sort of irrelevant. Wells presented two monarch figures in his novel and by the end, they’re both dead and their empires (the island and the ship) are gone. So, will that be the case when Queen Victoria dies? And if the British do fall, isn’t that for the best?