Lusia

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"Some years later I completed the portrait I had begun when we first met. It hung in a room where I liked to be alone, play music and write poetry; a room seldom frequented by anyone else." (The Highgate Vampire, p. 184).

I would attempt further portraits in the following century (see below), but these only seemed to manage to reflect the nightmare aspect of our history and very little else. Nothing I subsequently attempted would capture the beauty and truth contained in the brush strokes of my first impression on canvas, painted for the most part while she was still alive.

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower ...

"The leaves rose in a whirlwind of frenzy before falling aimlessly to the floor. Something cold filled the darkness of that room ... It gathered into a vague shape as a vaporous substance condensed before me and two burning eyes met my own. They gleamed like rich emeralds with glints of fire which reflected in them the very flames of perdition. Then I heard a familiar voice in my ears." (The Highgate Vampire,  Gothic Press 1991 edition, page 176).

These are the very last portraits committed to canvas, recounting a metamorphosed nightmare spectre from beyond the confines of the grave.

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Lusia

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This portrait of Lusia appears, complete with its ornate frame, on page 186 of The Highgate Vampire (Gothic Press, 1991). Earlier in the same book, I recall how "I sketched her face from a variety of angles. Seventeen years later I would finish the oil painting from memory." ― The Highgate Vampire (1991), p. 83.
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Lusia has never been identified by her real name and, until now, a photograph at the time of my knowing her has not been published. Sufficient decades have perhaps passed to permit one.
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“Among the many people who contacted me,” I recount in the first complete account of the case published in 1985, “was the sister of a beautiful twenty-two-year-old woman, whom I shall call Lusia.” A photographic model, and, much later, actresses, portrayed Lusia in representations of her in depictions of the mysterious events which came to be known collectively as the case of the Highgate Vampire. This decision was due to the tragic outcome and a very real need to preserve her identity.
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My initial discovery of her was one of sheer delight tinged with a terrible sadness which grew stronger until it finally eclipsed her. It would be within the sombre tones of an apt piece of music that she became enshrouded. I wrote: “Her cascading flaxen tresses caught the dull illumination of the moonlight in their pale reflection. Somewhere, in the background, I could hear the dying pulses of Strauss’ solemn orchestral work, Metamorphosen. It haunts me to this day.” Lusia was touched by what lies beyond earthly confines, and became part of the nightmare of hideous visions and visitations associated with Highgate Cemetery at that time. I glimpsed an indistinct figure toward the end, a figure swathed in a white cerement, her face the colour of marble save for her mouth, which seemed full and wanton. This was not the Lusia I had first known. It was something else. A shade of something that had been sucked dry of life. She nevertheless lives in the hearts of those who knew her and hopefully on the canvas from all those years ago. Her portrait in oils has been immortalised by a history in which she played a significant part. My style altered even during the years I added paint to canvas when creating this portrait and is today significantly removed from the period when I knew Lusia.

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“All these things happen, and the eyes of ordinary men do not see them.”

~ Michael Sendivogius (17th Century)

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All images copyright © +Seán Manchester, 2009

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