Monsters and Aberrations: The Dark Depths of Gaslamp Horror
Victorian horror literature, characterised by its atmospheric and often Gothic settings, delved into the macabre and the unknown, inviting readers into shadowy realms where monsters and aberrations lurked. In this haunting literary landscape, writers of the era crafted tales that went beyond mere creatures of fright, exploring the depths of human fears, societal anxieties, and the mysteries of the supernatural.
One iconic figure that stands at the intersection of science and horror is Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Published in 1818, this seminal work predates the Victorian era but sets the stage for the exploration of monstrous creations and their societal implications. Dr. Victor Frankenstein's ambitious experiment to create life results in the birth of a creature that becomes a symbol of unchecked scientific hubris and the consequences of playing god.
Beyond Frankenstein, Victorian horror embraced a diverse array of monsters and aberrations, each representing societal fears and existential anxieties. These tales often unfolded in decaying mansions, mist-shrouded moors, and dimly lit streets, providing the perfect backdrop for encounters with the unknown.
Algernon Blackwood's The Willows is a prime example of how Victorian horror engaged with the theme of aberrations. The story, set during a canoe trip down the Danube, introduces readers to an unsettling force embodied by ancient willow trees. Blackwood's narrative skilfully blurs the lines between the supernatural and the psychological, creating an atmosphere where the true nature of the aberration remains enigmatic.
As we delve into Gaslamp horror literature, we will explore how these tales transcended conventional monster tropes. Victorian authors used monsters and aberrations as vehicles to examine the human psyche, societal norms, and the boundaries between the known and the unknowable.
The Human Psyche
The Picture of Dorian Gray delves into the concept of moral decay and the monstrous nature that can lie beneath a seemingly flawless exterior. Dorian Gray, the protagonist, starts as a handsome and virtuous young man. However, as he indulges in a hedonistic lifestyle, his portrait bears the brunt of his sins, ageing and decaying while he remains outwardly untouched. This duality exposes the monstrous consequences of unchecked desires and the corrosive impact of a life devoid of moral constraints.
Edgar Allan Poe, known for his tales of the macabre and the psychological, often explored the monstrous aspects of human psychology. In works like The Tell-Tale Heart and The Black Cat, Poe delves into the minds of narrators whose actions reveal their monstrous tendencies. The protagonists' descent into madness and the commission of heinous acts portray a different kind of aberration—one born from the intricacies of the human psyche. Poe's exploration of the darkness within the human soul serves as a reflection on the potential monstrosity that can arise from the complexities of guilt, obsession, and deteriorating mental states.
Both Wilde and Poe challenge traditional notions of monstrous entities by turning the spotlight inward, depicting individuals as the architects of their own monstrosity. Whether through the supernatural consequences of a hedonistic pact in Dorian Gray or the psychological unravelling in Poe's works, these narratives compel readers to confront the idea that monsters and aberrations can be woven into the fabric of human existence, emerging from the shadows of societal expectations and the darker recesses of the human mind.
Unchecked Scientific Ambition
In the candle-lit libraries of Victorian horror literature, monstrous entities lurk, challenging the boundaries of the natural order. One iconic figure that embodies this theme is Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Shelley's masterpiece explores the consequences of scientific ambition as Dr. Victor Frankenstein breathes life into a creature assembled from disparate body parts.
The monster in Frankenstein serves as a poignant metaphor for societal fears surrounding scientific advancements and the potential consequences of playing god. Victor's creation, initially a blank slate, becomes a symbol of societal neglect and the isolation imposed upon those who are different.
Victor Frankenstein himself is arguably the true monster due to the consequences of his ambitious and reckless pursuit of scientific knowledge. While the Creature he creates is physically monstrous and performs terrible acts, the novel explores how Victor's actions and neglect contribute to the creature's descent into violence and despair.
Victor, in his fervour to play the role of a creator, assembles a being from various body parts. However, upon bringing it to life, he is horrified by its appearance and immediately abandons it. This act of abandonment sets the stage for the Creature's isolation and loneliness.
Victor's lack of empathy and unwillingness to care for the Creature mirrors a failed parent-child relationship. His rejection of the Creature reflects societal prejudices and the consequences of neglect, showcasing the monster within Victor's character.
The Creature, seeking companionship, is repeatedly rejected and mistreated by society due to its hideous appearance. Victor's refusal to take responsibility for his creation contributes to the Creature's bitterness and eventual turn to violence.
Despite recognising the havoc caused by his creation, Victor fails to take responsibility for the suffering inflicted by the Creature. This lack of accountability reinforces the argument that Victor's actions, rather than the Creature's appearance, define the true monstrosity.
The novel challenges the conventional understanding of monsters by portraying Victor Frankenstein as the architect of the tragedy. The true horror lies not in the physical appearance of the Creature but in the moral and ethical failings of its creator, highlighting the idea that the real monster may be the one who unleashes such a being upon the world.
The Unknowable
The Willows by Algernon Blackwood explores the theme of monsters and aberrations in a unique and atmospheric way, presenting a narrative that blurs the lines between supernatural and psychological horror. The story follows two friends on a canoe trip down the Danube who encounter unsettling and otherworldly phenomena in a remote wilderness.
Unlike traditional monster stories, The Willows maintains an ambiguity about the nature of the threat. The protagonists face an eerie and incomprehensible force represented by the ancient willow trees. This ambiguity creates a sense of unease, as the true nature of the aberration is never fully revealed.
The story delves into the psychological impact of the environment on the characters. The vast, desolate landscape and the omnipresent willow trees contribute to a growing sense of dread and disorientation. The perceived aberrations might be manifestations of the characters' deteriorating mental states.
The story suggests the presence of unseen forces or entities residing in the natural world. The inexplicable happenings, such as strange sounds and movements in the willow bushes, evoke a sense of the supernatural. These forces challenge the conventional understanding of monsters by remaining largely hidden and unknown.
Nature itself takes on a malevolent and alien quality. The willow trees become a symbol of an ancient, indifferent force that transcends human understanding. This portrayal challenges the notion of monsters as individual, anthropomorphic entities and instead presents nature as a vast, incomprehensible force.
The Willows is often associated with cosmic horror, a sub-genre that emphasises the insignificance of humanity in the face of vast, unknowable cosmic forces. The story instils a sense of dread derived from the characters' inability to grasp the true nature of the aberrations they encounter.
As the characters navigate the river, a subtle shift in reality occurs. The boundaries between the physical world and a realm of cosmic horror blur. The Willows invites readers to confront the unsettling idea that the true monsters might be forces beyond human comprehension, lurking in the mysterious depths of the natural world.
Blackwood frequently used nature as a conduit for cosmic forces. His stories portrayed nature as an ancient, primal force that eludes human understanding. Lovecraft would adopt a similar approach with his creation of the Great Old Ones, integrating cosmic entities like Cthulhu into the natural world to underscore the idea that the cosmos is indifferent to human concerns. The cosmic entities that exist beyond the understanding of humans emphasise the insignificance of humanity in the grand cosmic scheme.
These literary monsters transcend mere tales of horror; they symbolise the societal fears and moral uncertainties that plagued the Victorian era. Frankenstein's creature embodies the consequences of unchecked scientific progress, while Poe explored the human psyche and Blackwood expertly crafted a story beyond the characters’s understanding.
Victorian horror literature, through its portrayal of monsters and aberrations, invites readers to confront the darker aspects of humanity and society. These iconic works have left an indelible mark on the horror genre, influencing how we perceive monsters in literature and popular culture.
This was a marvelous essay. I agree that “The Willows” is chilling! Further to Dorian Gray and Poe, there is one Poe doppelgänger story that I think you might enjoy if you haven’t read it yet. It’s called “William Wilson”. Very creepy. “Melmoth the Wanderer” by Charles Maturin is a pretty good read and has some funny moments, but is a bit long. But when it comes to “chill factor” I think my favorite horror story writer was M.R. James. If you haven’t read them, check out: “Oh, Whistle and I’ll Come for You, My Lad” or “The Tractate Middoth.” (And that’s just two examples.) I think his stories are just as good if not better than Algernon Blackwood, although “The Willows” and “The Wendigo” are first rate.
It’s interesting because my Latin professor who grew up in Dundee in the ‘30s and ‘40s, told me that Algernon Blackwood had a weekly radio program in which he would read his original ghost stories, and his reading voice was evidently magnificent. It may also explain his output. I have two beefy volume of ghost stories alone by him. I had a hard time getting into the John Silence stories; I think it was all the outdated pseudo-science that destroys the enchantment of those tales for me. When they start talking about psychic residues being left in the wainscoting like tobacco smoke, it’s hard not to laugh.
I just read the Willows and I love the way he writes. I want to read more of his stuff.