Monstrous women are found throughout Gothic literature. They represent fears and anxieties around female bodies and women’s role in society. But there is one type of monstrous woman we see over and over again, whose symbolism goes back centuries: the snake lady. Part woman and part snake, the snake lady might physically be half and half—like a land-bound mermaid—or she might transform between the two forms. Either way, she inspires both desire and fear—the paradox at the heart of the Gothic.
Women are associated with snakes in many different cultures across history, but most notable here is their connection in Christianity, going back to the story of the Garden of Eden. In Christian interpretations of this Biblical tale, Eve is seduced and tricked by the serpent (usually understood to be Satan in disguise) into eating the forbidden fruit. Thus, women and snakes are immediately tied up together in Christian notions of temptation, sin, and corruption. In Renaissance artwork, we often see the serpent depicted with the head and even the upper body of a woman. This imagery also entered the Gothic imagination through the description of the embodiment of Sin in John Milton’s Paradise Lost (1667). In Book II of Milton’s epic poem, Satan encounters a monstrous figure at the gates of Hell on his way to the Garden of Eden. This creature “seemed woman to the waist and fair/But ended foul in many a scaly fold” (II.650–1). She is Sin, the daughter of Satan, who leapt from his head when he first thought of rebelling against God. In her, we see the duality of the snake lady: alluring on top, but repulsive, dangerous, and monstrous beneath. Though Paradise Lost was written over a century before the first Gothic novel, the image of the seductive snake lady would prove to be one of its many important contributions to the genre.
One of the most famous snake ladies in Gothic literature is the namesake of John Keats’s narrative poem “Lamia” (1820). In Greek mythology, Lamia was one of Zeus’s lovers who was transformed into a child-eating snake monster by a jealous Hera. In Keats’s poem, Lamia appears as a gorgeously colorful serpent but with a human mouth. She convinces the god Hermes to restore her to her fully human form so that she can court a Corinthian man named Lycius. Lycius is completely smitten by Lamia’s beauty. But on the day of their wedding, the sage Apollonius reveals Lamia’s true identity, and Lycius drops down dead. It’s hard to tell whether Lamia is truly a villain or victim in this story, since it ends quite tragically for her. But there’s no denying that she is a deceitful character, who conceals her true nature from her lover.
In contrast, the protagonist has a markedly different reaction to the revelation of the snake woman in Vernon Lee’s 1895 short story “Prince Alberic and the Snake Lady.” Young Prince Alberic grows up entranced by a tapestry on his wall that depicts a beautiful golden-haired woman. For many years, the lower half of the woman’s body was blocked by a piece of furniture, but when it is finally uncovered, Alberic sees that she has a serpent’s tail. Yet, this new knowledge only makes him more enamored of her. As he grows up, the prince adopts a pet grass snake, whom he eventually realizes is the lady Oriana from the tapestry—an immortal fairy cursed by another fairy to be trapped in snake form until a man can prove himself loyal to her for ten years. Rather than being frightened or repulsed, Alberic dotes on the snake, determined to be the one to finally break her curse. The story ends tragically for them both, however, when a cruel courtier kills the snake. In this story, the snake lady is depicted quite sympathetically, as the victim of undeserved violence and as the object of Alberic’s genuine and undeceived love.
But the role where the snake lady really shines is as the villain of the story. An excellent example of this is the character Lady Arabella March in Bram Stoker’s novel The Lair of the White Worm (1911). One of two central antagonists in the novel, Lady Arabella is a mysterious and alluring figure who lusts for power and repeatedly tries to kill the protagonist’s love interest, Mimi. She appears to be a close confederate of the giant serpentine monster known as the White Worm and is seen murdering a man by dragging him down into a deep pit for the Worm to eat. While the exact relationship between Lady Arabella and the snake monster is left somewhat ambiguous, it is heavily implied that she is somehow a snake creature in human form. Like the White Worm, Lady Arabella has emerald green eyes, and at one point a tame snake-killing mongoose attacks her as though she were his prey. At the end of the novel, Lady Arabella and the White Worm are both killed by a dynamite explosion.
What other examples of the snake lady can you think of from Gothic literature? Do you view the snake lady character as more of a villain or a victim? Let me know what you think in the comments!
Elinor (water monster) in the Blackwater saga by Micheal McDowell. She plays nice to those she loves, but is a human-eating villain at heart–even though sometimes the people she takes down deserve it.