It is hard to understand why the Vampire has such a hold on our imagination. By repute it is foul smelling, fester popping, halitosis sharing, un-fun loving, party pooping nerd with only the flimsiest, most tenuous grip on life – or if you prefer, Undeath. At least that is the bag of the classic Vampire. Lord George Byron’s creation, Lord Ruthven, named by Dr. Polidori and filched from Lady Caroline Lamb, was more robust than Bram Stokers’ Dracula. He could go out during the day and mix on equal terms with the raffish dilettantes and society hostesses. In comparison, although imbued with superhuman strength, Stoker’s Dracula is a pushover. If he is kept from his coffin he is reduced to nothing more than a heap of dust and a gold ring. In the film version at least. If Dracula is tucked up in his shroud by first cock crow he is even more vulnerable. Anyone with a sharpened hickory stick can nail him through the heart and it is goodbye sucker. Some Vampire Dispatching Instructions also recommend slicing off the head, just to be certain. So what has made the Vampire one of the most popular forms of reading, writing and staking? And what hold does it have over all sorts of people, professional and amateur, who follow the exploits of the Transylvanian Master? I personally know three University professors who are sworn Vampire lovers. One of them, Professor Elizabeth Miller of the Memorial University of New Foundland in Canada, has even been honoured by the Romanians as ‘Baroness of the House of Dracula.’ Her most recent book, Stoker’s Dracula Notes, published about a month ago by Parkstone Press, is a masterpiece. From Mexico University Professor Victoria Amador lectures all over the world on the subject and Dr. Bob Lima, Pennsylvania State University, is an authority on churches and has written several books dealing with the religious side of the Undead. So just when and where did the Vampire, in all its variant forms, first see the light of the moon? Probably the blood sucking temptation has always been there, buried deep in the human psyche. Let’s assume we are talking thousands of years ago. A group of hunters are cut off by the snow and are going nowhere. The group consists of body temperature, fast food packages of nourishment that can save the majority of them. I guess the runt of the pack would go first. Cutting up the reluctant fodder would take too long. Leeching onto various parts of the body and sucking is the only viable alternative. The frozen meat can be kept for later. It wouldn’t be long before the act of exsanguination was enshrined on the cave wall and ritualised. Then the Babylonians managed to edge the plot slightly in the direction of fully endorsed Vampireship by introducing the ‘Ekimmu’. The After-life suddenly opened up to everybody – God and ‘fellah’ alike. Basically all you needed to do was drop down dead and have no well-intentioned friends to cover you with sand. After a suitable time passed the departed would leap up, re-embodied and ready for anything. Especially of a sexual nature. The bonus for being a member of the Ekimmu set was that you entered your new profession massively endowed. If you are sceptical about this, next time you are sauntering through the temple at Karnak on the Nile, take time to visit the forbidden wall round the back of the temple. Life will never be the same again. It is said that the maidens subjected to the advances of the Ekimmu and his sacred weapon were at first terrorised and then overwhelmed by this mighty phallus. Across on the far shore of the Mediterranean, at the centre of the world, the Greeks were not happy that the Egyptians-cum-Babylonians had come up with the ultimate god-headed Undead. They did have a vampire of sorts. A ‘Vrykolalos’. A lycanthrope. A shape changer more closely associated with the Werewolf. Then one of the poets remembered the tale of Queen Lamiai of Lydia. Lamiai’s children were eaten by the minor goddess, Hera. This sent Queen Lamiai on a crazed path of distraction. She roared around the Ancient world feasting on innocent men and children. She wasn’t perfect for induction into the hall of vampires but Stavros the Priest was in no mood to be choosy. He called in a minor hack poet and copy editor and began spreading the news of their newly invested monster – The Lamiai. Before long every little taverna and amphitheatre had its own domestic Lamiai. It was great to give the customers a thrill but soon the Lamiai’s success became Pyrrhic. Customers didn’t fancy meeting the monster on their way home so decided that staying home was the answer. The solution was found in a recommended course of action guaranteed to rid the infested place of any hyperactive Lamiai. Initially the Lamiai, when apprehended, was spread out on the crossroads, chopped into quarters and a bit buried on each road. The Greeks weren’t too keen on the heavy graft of hole digging and a later innovation was that the grisly quarters were burned on a bonfire and the ashes scattered on the wind. The Greeks, now that they had added their two pennorth to the vampire folklore, were well satisfied. The case for the properly qualified Vampire was made. You had to be dead, reanimated to an Undead state, there must be penetration and blood must be sucked. Decapitation, crossroads and burning had been added to the litany and there has to be strong sexual connotations. All the ingredients for a Hammer film when you think about it.
