Vampires Through the Ages

by Brian Righi

  Similar to the strigoi vii is an entity of Slavic origin known as the mora, which issued forth from the body of a sleeping girl not properly baptized to cause nightmares, suffocation, and a type of wasting illness that sucked the life force from its victim. If the mora then happened to fall in love with her victim, she drank his blood as well.

  In addition, living vampires were said to have the unique power to take the “essence” from an object, which interfered with its normal ability to function properly. Therefore hens ceased to lay eggs or cows to give milk; they could even steal the “taste” from bread or the milk from a nursing mother’s breast. Living vampires were also blamed for spreading infectious diseases, such as the cholera epidemics that swept through Ukraine in the 1800s, where people were burned to death by their neighbors after being accused of being living vampires responsible for contagion. Another of the usual suspects to mark the list of living vampires were those who suffered from unexplained trances or sleepwalking. In Greece it was believed that those prone to somnambulist wanderings would be seized by an uncontrollable bloodlust and go forth biting and tearing at every man or beast they came across.

  In most cases, the powers or traits of the living vampire were considered hereditary and could be passed from one generation to the next. In certain southern Slavic folklore, this first began with the vampire starting off as an invisible shadow that gained strength as it sucked the lifeblood of the living. It then formed into a jelly-like mass that grew more defined, until at the end of forty days it had shaped itself into a human-like body identical to the one it had while it was alive. These vampires then, usually male, but in some rare stories female as well, traveled to another village where they were unknown to the inhabitants and married, producing offspring. The children in turn became living vampires who not only had the power to see invisible vampires but also to destroy them. Legend states that when these vampires finally died, they returned again to haunt the living as revenants.

  The final category of vampire is a catch-all, really, for some of the most obscure and unusual blood-drinking creatures to grace the early folklore of Europe. One of the more colorful such vampires was a murderous dwarf with a Scottish accent found in the border tales that circulated between Scotland and England. Known by the name redcap, this red-eyed, long-toothed, bloodthirsty fairy inhabited ruined castles and ambushed unsuspecting travelers. After lopping off their heads with heavy iron pikes, the redcaps dyed their hats in the blood of their victims—hence the name they were known by.

  This vile practice was more than a bad fashion statement, however, because if the blood were ever allowed to dry, the redcap would die. Despite wearing iron-shod boots, they were also renowned for their speed, and it was said to be impossible to outrun one. The only defense, therefore, was to recite biblical scripture aloud and make the sign of the cross, which was guaranteed to drive them away. In one popular legend, Lord William de Soulis, a Scottish border noble during the Wars of Scottish Independence, was rumored to have kept such a creature named Robin Redcap as a familiar. Unfortunately for Lord William, this particular redcap could not be contained very long even through the most powerful of dark arts, and it was soon wreaking havoc in the lands surrounding its master’s dwelling at Hermitage Castle. Eventually, Lord William was able to wrap the redcap in lead and boil it to death in an ancient circle of stones known as the Nine Stane Rigg. Historically, though, Lord William fared little better and was imprisoned in Dumbarton Castle for conspiring against Robert the Bruce, dying there under cloudy circumstances in 1321.

  More fantastic than the redcaps of Scotland were the shapeshifting alps of Germany. Said to take the shape of any animal or insect it wished, including butterflies, cats, pigs, birds, or dogs, the alp always wore a magical hat that granted it supernatural powers such as invisibility or the dreaded evil eye. Feared for their ability to cause nightmares, alps were also known to sexually molest both men and women in their sleep and entered their bodies through the mouth in the form of a mist or snake. In some cases, alps also drank the blood of their victims through the nipples and could cause the milk of both nursing mothers and cows to dry up. As frightening as the alp was to the German peasantry, the remedy to combat it was as simple as it was strange: all a person needed to do was to sleep with his or her shoes next to the bed, pointing towards the door.

  Often classed with these types of vampires was a breed of European eclipse demon known in Serbia as the varcolac, whose demanding appetite was blamed for devouring the sun and moon during an eclipse as well as bringing storms and ruining crops. Recognized by their pale faces and dry skin, they were famous for their capacity to drink boiled milk, wine, and vodka as if it were mere water. Although they could be mistaken for normal humans during daylight hours, at night their spirit left their body while it slept and, taking the form of various animals, hunted the moon and the sun. During an eclipse, nervous villagers often banged pots and pans together or beat loud drums to chase away the varcolac.

  In one popular tale a Serbian peasant lost his fortune after one of these fiends destroyed his vineyards with a terrible storm. Determined to seek his revenge, the man vowed to wait under a pear tree with a shotgun loaded with gold, silver, lead, and steel shot for the varcolac to return. Then one day the sky suddenly grew dark and tumultuous, and a varcolac appeared in the shape of an eagle. The peasant took aim, and with a single blast of his shotgun felled the creature, which died as it hit the ground, causing the sky to immediately clear.

  Far more astonishing than any of these bloodsucking monstrosities was a belief among some groups that even everyday objects such tools or fruit could become vampires. For instance, in the Balkans if a tool were left outside under a full moon, it could become a vampire and cause its owner much mischief. Wooden knots for a yoke or the rods for binding sheaves of wheat could, if left undone for more than three years, conceivably turn into vampires. According to some Gypsy traditions, watermelons and especially pumpkins if kept for more than ten days after Christmas would start to bleed and roll around on the ground, making alarming noises. Vampire fruit seemed cause for little concern though, as even then everyone knew that fruit had no teeth.

  The Art of Becoming a Vampire

  Just as there existed a number of variations on the vampire theme in folklore of the period, there were also many ways by which one could be created. One method of explaining their existence rested more on ill fate and bad genes than anything else, and a belief that some people were naturally born to be vampires. The Slavic people of Hannover, Germany (who were also known as Wends), for example, thought that if a child returned to its mother’s breast after being weaned, it was a Doppelsauger, or “double sucker.” From then on the child was destined to seek nourishment it could never satisfy, even rising from the grave after death to feed on the living. As with many revenants, its consuming hunger was so great it not only drained the vitality of its living relatives but also devoured its own corpse and burial clothes. Also rumored to become vampires were those born under inauspicious circumstances, such as the seventh son of a seventh son or the illegitimate child of illegitimate parents. Even being born on the wrong day was enough to do the trick in some regions. Christmas Day for one was said to be a bad time to be born, as it meant a person would become a vampire after death as divine punishment for the presumptuousness of his mother in daring to give birth on the same day as the holy Virgin Mary.

  Birth defects and other physical oddities that set one apart from the rest of the village also played a part in marking those fated to become such creatures. Early men often viewed physical defects as an expression of some deeper spiritual deficiency or curse. Probably the most common was the presence of the caul at the birth of an infant. The caul is a thin membranous sac that covers the baby’s face and body during birth, and if it remained intact it was thought to be an omen that the child would grow to acquire supernatural powers for good or evil. If, unfortunately, the thin, film
y membrane burst and the infant swallowed part of it, he was doomed to become a vampire.

  Among the Kashubians of Poland, the caul was saved until the child’s seventh birthday, when it was reduced to ashes and fed to the child as an antidote against vampirism. Numerous other traits existed that branded one as a future vampire, including physical deformities such as a hunchback or an unusual birthmark. In Greece, merely having eyebrows that grew too closely together meant you were singled out for the fate.

  The second method of becoming a vampire was reserved for those who lived what the early Christian church deemed an evil or unholy life. The offense was applied to anyone, from church heretics and priests who took mass in a “state of sin” to murderers and other criminals. In some regions, simple acts such as stealing the ropes used to lower a coffin into the grave or eating the meat of animals killed by wolves was enough to receive this punishment. The worst offenders, of course, were those who sold their soul to the devil or engaged in the practice of witchcraft. This included living vampires, werewolves, or the offspring of evil unions between witches and devils, all of whom continued on as undead revenants after death. In addition to the curse being a sort of divine retribution for living a life of wickedness, it also meant that the person would not be buried in consecrated ground. Instead of internment in a churchyard, such people suffered the ignoble fate of being buried in secret at lonely crossroads or in unmarked gravesites so that their spirits could not find their way back home. In such a state the corpse became more than just food for the worms, but a corrupted vessel that all manner of evil spirits and demons could possess to meet their own bloodthirsty needs.

  The third method revolved around one of early man’s misconceptions of sudden or unexplained death. Although the average life expectancy of the Eastern European peasant was much shorter than ours today, unexpected deaths were still a bit of a shock back then. In the thought process of our ancestors, death was an unnatural event that if transpired before its time could leave a spirit wandering aimlessly throughout the land looking for revenge. Being killed by wild animals in the forest, dying alone, drowning, murder, and suicide were all examples of an untimely death. Even passing away on the wrong day could be an accursed event, as in some Southern Slavic countries, where dying between Christmas and the celebration of the Epiphany meant one might return as a vampire. The Wallachians often equated the sudden occurrence of death to an attack by a vampire and took great precautions when burying those who had died mysteriously.

  Besides unexplained deaths, another obviously effective way was to die at the hands of a vampire. In most of the literature, including modern fiction, vampirism is a contagion spread by contact between the vampire and its prey. In some reports, even those who survived a vampire attack still ran the risk of becoming one after they died. Coming into contact with the blood of a vampire in some folklore worked as an antidote, while in others it spread the condition like a disease. The Serbs and Croats of Herzegovina believed that when piercing the suspected corpse of a vampire with a stake (which we’ll read about in later chapters), it should be done through the dried hide of a young bull to keep the blood from splattering and infecting the vampire killer.

  The final method of becoming a vampire was often associated with digressions from local burial customs that marked a lack of respect for the body of the deceased. For example, in the folklore of the Balkans, if a cat or dog jumped over the body while it awaited burial the corpse could come back from the dead as a revenant. Tradition held in many cases that the body should be guarded by a family member whose job was to ensure nothing went wrong with the complex burial customs of the time. An animal being allowed in the room, much less desecrating the body, was a major breach of protocol. Other prohibitions warned against shaking hands over a corpse, letting the shadow of a person fall upon it, or passing an object such as a candle across it. Each of these admonitions carried with it the threat that if proper respect was not shown for the dead, dire consequences awaited the living. A botched burial, after all, meant a glitch in the process by which the spirit successfully left the body for good. Disrupting this ensured the spirit would return and crave the sustenance of human blood.

  The Case of Peter Plogojowitz

  Although we have examined the nature and habits of the vampiric creatures that stalked Eastern Europe in the years leading up to the 1800s, it’s difficult to grasp the impact of their bloodthirsty activities on local populations without examining actual reports of vampire attacks from the period. By the mid-1700s, a vampire scare was sweeping across the continent from the shores of the Black Sea in the east to the monarchies of Western Europe. Printing presses streamed with pamphlets, and each day newspapers competed with one another over cataloging the grisly details of fresh vampire assaults in the small villages and lonely mountain passes of the far-off Balkans. One of the first well-documented cases of vampirism to still exist was published in a Viennese newspaper, Wienerisches Diarium, and concerned a Serbian peasant named Peter Plogojowitz.

  In 1718, after a bitter and bloody contest, a treaty known as the Peace of Passarowitz was signed between the Habsburg monarchy of Austria and the ailing Ottoman Empire. Under the agreement, Austria and her allies, the Republic of Venice, were handed parts of Serbia and Wallachia, which had long lay under the Turkish yoke. Suddenly, lands normally isolated from the rest of Europe were swarming with imperial soldiers and bureaucrats sending back dispatches about their new subjects to the recently installed monarchy.

  On July 31, 1725, an official report was issued by an Imperial Provisor named Frombald, claiming to have witnessed the disinterment and staking of a corpse suspected of being a vampire. Sometime during the year 1725 a man named Peter Plogojowitz died in the Serbian village of Kisolova, which today can be found just east of Belgrade on a small island on the Danube River and has been renamed Kisiljevo. Ten weeks following his burial, villagers began whispering in frightened tones that his corpse was seen walking through the narrow streets at night. Within the space of eight days, nine people died mysteriously, all of whom claimed upon their deathbed that the figure of Plogojowitz had visited them in their sleep and attacked them. As the stories grew louder, Plogojowitz’s former wife spoke out and admitted that he had returned to her one night as well demanding his opanci, or shoes. Terrified by the encounter and the growing death toll, she soon packed her belongings and moved to another village.

  By now panic gripped the tiny hamlet, and the inhabitants turned to the imperial representative of the district, Provisor Frombald, for permission to exhume the body of Peter Plogojowitz and examine it for signs of vampirism. Initially the Provisor tried to stall, claiming that he first needed to inform the Austrian authorities in Belgrade, but the villagers would not be swayed and threatened to abandon the village if their demands were not met. After all, this was not the first time the village had been exterminated by vampires, which they claimed occurred once before while under Ottoman rule and they were not about to let it happen again. Fearing their growing anger, the stubborn Frombald was forced to consent and with the Gradisk parish priest accompanied the growing crowd of villagers to the town cemetery. To their surprise, once the body was brought to the surface and the burial wrappings torn away, the corpse appeared undecayed with new skin and nails growing under the old and with what resembled fresh blood around the mouth. In his report Frombald also mentions what he delicately termed “wild signs,” which out of respect for the reader he refused to elaborate on. Later commentators explained that it alluded to the corpse having an erection, a recurring element that may have later helped associate the vampire with its erotic elements.

  Given these and other curious signs, the people grew greatly distressed and drove a stake through the heart of the corpse—immediately sending a fountain of blood spraying upwards, which welled out of the mouth and ears as well. The body was then dragged from the grave and set on fire with torches. The Provisor finishes his story, as any good b
ureaucrat looking to keep his job would, by stating that although he was opposed to the actions of the villagers, they could not be stopped from the hysteria that swept them and that he should not be blamed.

  The Case of Arnod Paole

  A second account to find its way into the headlines of the day occurred in the year 1727 in yet another small Serbian village, this one named Medvegia. According to the story, a man named Arnod Paole settled in the village after many years of military service fighting the Turks. In 1725 he died from a fall off a hay wagon, breaking his neck, and was buried in the local cemetery in the provincial manner. Thirty days after his burial, residents of the village began to report that they were being haunted by his spirit at night. Soon after four of these witnesses died, the village began to clamor that Arnod Paole had returned from the dead as a vampire. Helping to fuel the growing suspicion, it was widely gossiped that while he was alive, Paole related to his wife that he was once attacked by a vampire while serving in the Turkish controlled town of Gossowa (perhaps Kosova). To avoid becoming one of the creatures himself, he exhumed the corpse of the vampire that attacked him and disposed of it in the accustomed manner for dealing with such things. Following the traditional remedy, he also smeared the blood of the corpse on his body and consumed some the grave dirt.

  As the nightly attacks by Paole continued, the villagers grew more frightened, not knowing who among them would become his next target. Finally, a Hadnack, a type of military administrator, who was well acquainted with the lore of the vampire, suggested to the village elders that the only way to combat the menace threatening their homes was to disinter the body of Arnod Paole and drive a stake through it. Fearing that if they did not act swiftly the entire village would be lost, a group of men nervously raised the body of Paole from the grave. Upon examining the corpse, they were shocked to find it undecayed and that “fresh blood had flowed from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears; that the shirt, the covering, and the coffin were completely bloody; that the old nails on his hands and feet, along with the skin, had fallen off, and that new ones had grown” (Barber 1988, 160).